Snow White and Rose Red (17 page)
Read Snow White and Rose Red Online
Authors: Patricia Wrede
By mid-January it was obvious that the Widow’s book contained no useful counterspell. Rosamund’s exasperation was boundless, and she began dropping dark hints about invading Dee’s house itself in search of a remedy. This seriously alarmed the Widow, but before matters went too far Blanche made a suggestion that put an end, for the time being, to Rosamund’s imprudent proposals.
“An there’s no spell in Mother’s book, we must make one ourselves,” Blanche said in a calm voice. “It cannot be an impossible task, or how were the ones we’ve read created?”
“Make one?” the Widow repeated blankly.
“Of course!” Rosamund cried, clapping her hands. “We’ll take a bit from this spell, and another from that, and make a new one that will do what we wish!”
“ ‘Tis not so easy, Rose,” the Widow said, furrowing her brow. “And there are far more pitfalls in this course. An untried spell’s a chancy thing.”
“We must attempt it, Mother,” Blanche said.
The Widow saw the quiet resolution on her daughter’s face. Her gaze slid to the black mound of the bear, lying in front of the fire and looking at her with his uncanny, human eyes. The Widow sighed, foreseeing a time-consuming period of dangerous activity ahead, and nodded. “I suppose we must,” she said reluctantly. “But keep in mind, girls, that what you’ve proposed will be neither quick nor easy. ”
The accuracy of this prediction soon became apparent. Promising bits of one spell proved incompatible with those from another, or worse yet, contradicted them completely. Incomprehensible ingredients were called for, and comprehensible ones were far more expensive than the Widow’s meager means could afford. Nearly everything had to be memorized; the girls made occasional notes on horn slates, but they were careful to wipe them clean after each session. The Widow’s single spellbook and her jars of Faerie herbs would be damaging evidence enough at a witchcraft trial without adding proof of more recent activities.
Progress was therefore slow, and the winter dragged on without a sign that success was near. This left the Widow in a private quandary. On the one hand, the longer they waited to make their attempt to disenchant the bear, the greater grew the likelihood that someone would notice his visits to the cottage or see some sign of the questionable research in which the Widow and her daughters were engaged. On the other hand, the Widow was well aware of the dangers inherent in casting an improperly constructed or too-hasty spell; too, the thought of crossing Dee and Kelly continued to make her nervous. The only solution to the dilemma was to abandon the bear to his unpleasant fate, and this her conscience would not allow. As January gave way to February, and February to March, the Widow’s anxiety increased, though she drew no nearer to a decision than the work appeared to be to a conclusion.
The arrival of Mistress Townsend at the Widow’s cottage in the first week of March finally put an end to this state of affairs. Mistress Townsend appeared in mid-afternoon, wearing a look of determination and a bulging hamper strapped to her back. Blanche let her into the cottage, and the Widow took one look and burst into greetings before her visitor could open her mouth.
“Why, Mistress Townsend, ‘tis good to see you,” the Widow said mendaciously. “But I wish you had told me at church last Sunday if you needed cough remedies and fleabane for your charity basket! I might have brought them into town tomorrow, and saved you walking all this way with such a heavy load. Help Mistress Townsend with her hamper, Blanche; Rosamund, fetch her some camomile tea, while I search out those crocks we sealed up yesterday. ”
The girls did as they were bid, suppressing smiles. By the time they finished fussing over Mistress Townsend, she had accepted the fact that she had been outmaneuvered once again, and the Widow Arden would not accept the charity she had brought. Not only had her walk from the village been in vain, but she would have to carry the full load back with her. The thought did not improve her temper. “Thank you for all your bounty,” she said sourly.
“ ‘Tis the least we can do,” the Widow answered, setting another crock on the table.
Mistress Townsend watched the line of jars grow, and the lines at the corners of her mouth deepened. “I haven’t room for so many,” she said. “I’ll take one or two, no more, and then be off.”
“You’ll not stay and eat with us?” the Widow said solicitously.
The lines around Mistress Townsend’s mouth deepened further. “Nay, I must be home by dark.”
“Why’s that?” Rosamund asked politely as she poured camomile tea into a handleless mug.
“I think it unsafe to wander so close to the woods after nightfall,” Mistress Townsend answered. She sniffed, and added, “And so you all should think as well, had you more sense.”
Rosamund stiffened with indignation and opened her mouth. The Widow glanced at her and said hastily, “We’ve become accustomed to the forest and its ways.”
“ ‘Tis not its ways that are a danger to you, but its beasts,” Mistress Townsend snapped. She saw their blank expressions and said less sharply, “You cannot mean you’ve not heard about the bear!”
Blanche paled. Rosamund jerked and nearly burned her hand on the kettle she was still holding. “Bear?” said the Widow in a strained voice. “What bear?”
Gratified by these reactions, Mistress Townsend unbent a little. “I thought surely that you would have heard. There is a bear about the forest, and near to Mortlak; Master Milling saw its tracks i‘the snow on Thursday last, as he was coming back from Richmond. An the beast stay nigh, you should have a care where your wanderings take you.” She looked pointedly at Rosamund as she spoke.
“My girls have no need to wander in the woods at this time of year,” The Widow said with a touch of sharpness. “ ‘Tis not the season for gathering herbs. ”
“That’s as may be,” Mistress Townsend said. “But all the same, I tell you, have a care. There’s no fence about the forest, to keep creatures in or out.” She saw how white Blanche’s face had become, and said in a kinder tone, “There, child, I did not mean to fret thee. Belike you’ll not have need to watch your steps for long. Master Kirton speaks of a hunting party, and if that fails, no doubt a bear-catcher will come down from London.”
Blanche grew, if possible, paler than before. “ ‘Tis kind of you to tell us, Mistress Townsend,” the Widow said quickly. “Now we may take precautions, until the hunt is done.”
“ ‘Twould certainly be wise,” Mistress Townsend said, pleased that for once her warnings seemed to be accepted. She made several more suggestions, then departed with a warm glow of self-satisfaction.
The moment the door closed behind Mistress Townsend, Blanche and Rosamund both began trying to talk at once, and the Widow had some trouble making herself heard above the din.
“One at a time,” she said. “Else I can make no sense of what you tell me. Blanche, thou‘rt eldest; begin.”
“Mother, what can we do?” Blanche cried. “They’ll kill the poor bear, or use him for a bear-baiting!”
“Belike, and belike not,” the Widow said. “ ‘Tis no ordinary bear they go a-hunting. An he be warned, they’ll likely find no trace of him.”
“And that’s the sum of thy council?” Rosamund said indignantly. “To warn the bear, and do no more?”
“What more can we do?” Blanche said in despairing tones. “Master Kirton will not set aside his hunting for our asking, and our spell to free the bear is not yet ready.”
“Thou‘rt right, Blanche,” the Widow said with a sigh. “Yet I think we must make our attempt to break this spell soon. It may be our only chance to try.”
“Thinkest thou we may succeed, then?” Blanche asked eagerly.
“I’ve small hope of it,” the Widow admitted. “But small hope is better than none, and we’ve no other choice. Bar the door, Rose, and both of you come sit with me. We’ve much to plan.”
The three women spent the remainder of the day bent over the table, arguing over each detail and scribbling the agreed-upon results on the girls’ horn slates. Gradually, the design of the spell took shape. They were still hard at work when Hugh arrived that evening. Blanche’s face lit with relief when she saw the bear, and she set her slate aside at once.
“Come in, bear,” she urged. “Quickly, before thou‘rt seen. We’ve much to tell thee.”
Hugh’s surprise at this unusual greeting changed quickly to alarm as Blanche recounted, in considerable detail, Mistress Townsend’s unexpected visit that afternoon. Something in the way she sat and the tone of her voice made Hugh think, for the first time, of what the consequences might be if he were found at the Widow’s home. Muddled as his mind was, it had never occurred to him that his visits might bring trouble to the Widow and her daughters, but it was clear, now that he thought of it, that this was the case. That consideration loomed far larger than his own danger; as soon as he understood, he got to his feet and lumbered toward the door, his paws knocking the rush mats askew as he shuffled across them.
Rosamund jumped up and ran in front of him. “Thou‘lt not leave before we’ve even told thee of our plans,” she declared firmly.
Hugh studied her for an instant, then growled, deep in his throat.
“Bear!” Blanche said in a horror-stricken tone. “Thou dost not mean it!”
Hugh winced inwardly, but he growled again, and this time he showed his teeth. He had had all winter to become familiar with Rosamund’s stubborn streak, and without a voice he had no other way to make her move aside.
“Stop that, thou ungracious lump!” Rosamund said, unimpressed. She set her back firmly against the door and went on, “We’ve spent this day devising a way to break thy bonds, and Mother thinks it may succeed. An it does, the hunters are no danger to thee, and thou‘lt have no reason for this hasty flight.”
Hugh looked at her, then turned his black, beady eyes toward the Widow, and his ears twitched.
“Rosamund speaks true,” the Widow told him. “Wilt thou listen?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Hugh nodded. The Widow gave a relieved sigh and began outlining the proposed spell they hoped would disenchant him. “There’s no certainty ‘twill work,” she cautioned when she finished, “nor even that ’twill do thee no more harm. ‘Tis thy part to agree to this attempt, or not. Dost thou understand me, bear?”
Hugh nodded again. He sat on his haunches and cocked his head to one side, considering. The spell described by the Widow was like none he had ever heard of before, but he knew little of mortal magic. He looked at the Widow again and whined, deep in his throat.
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