The Forest Lord (56 page)
The Land of the Young was a thousand times more
beautiful than Hartley remembered it. He stood at the inner gate with Donal mercifully asleep in his arms and gazed down upon the endless emerald hills, the wildflowers of every hue, the brilliant azure sky. Here it never rained, except for the amusement of its people. Birds more exotic than peacocks fluttered among immense, gold-leaved trees.
In the distance winged Fane performed a complex aerial dance, and then broke apart, laughing. Others feasted at a broad table carved of the rich red heartwood that grew only in Tir-na-nog, heaped with every imaginable delicacy.
It was such a place that mortals called heaven.
It was the home Hartley had been denied for centuries. Now he had earned his way back, and the price of his passage lay quiet against his heart.
But he had surrendered that heart forever.
The bejeweled gate that rose before him was untended, for few Fane had the patience to play guardian. Mortals no longer found their way to the threshold of the Faerie kingdom.
Hartley placed his hand on the diamond-studded silver bars. The intricate metalwork rang with his touch, but the vast doors did not open.
Winged Fane and riders mounted on enchanted white horses began to converge upon the gate, drawn by the novelty of a visitor. Hartley recognized many faces, but he felt no joy. The one he wished to see was not among them and could never be.
He ignored them all and raised his head.
"Mother.
Father.
I have fulfilled your requirements. The child you demanded is here."
An iridescent globe appeared over the gate and hovered there. Even to Fane eyes it was blinding: She had always been proud and imperious, the queen of the Fane, known on earth by a hundred names, first lady of the Sidhe and of the Tuatha de Danaan, rulers of Tir-na-nog.
"My son," a voice spoke from the globe. Human music could not begin to approach such glorious sound. "You have returned."
"Titania." He bent his head in brief homage, and she resolved into a woman of flawless line and form. Her face was unmarred by any hint of emotion.
"This is the child?" she asked.
"My son."
He lifted Donal for her inspection, sickened as if he were still subject to the ills of a mortal body. "Donal."
Her long fingered hand descended to touch Donal's face. "He resembles you. Has he the power?"
"He has."
"Then he is suitable to our purposes. Children come less and less often to us. We have need of fresh blood to strengthen our lines." She reached out with both arms. "Give him to me."
Hartley turned his shoulder to her. "You will not have the raising of him, Titania. He remains with me."
One perfect silver brow lifted. "You were my youngest, and always most rebellious. You have changed in the mortal realm. How many of their years have passed since you last entered our land?"
"A
thousand,
and more."
She shuddered delicately. "It is fortunate you have come, else you would be doomed."
Doomed to remain among mortals, gradually to lose his powers and any hope of return to the Land of the Young.
Doomed to "suffer" the love of Lady Eden Winstowe.
Titania made a dismissive gesture. "I grow weary of this. Pass through the gate, and I shall seal it behind you."
The gate swung open. Hartley cradled Donal and bent his head to the boy's brown, sweet-smelling hair.
This was what he had sought for a thousand years.
An end to exile.
An end to sorrow, and pain, and loneliness.
No more unwanted responsibility to the men and beasts of earth.
No more love.
He set one foot over the threshold, and stopped.
The watching Fane burst into a flurry of agitated motion.
Titania's silver hair lashed about her head.
"What is this?" she demanded. "You cannot enter. You carry a burden that must be abandoned here, else you may not pass."
At first he thought she meant Donal, and he drew back. "My son—"
"Not the child." Titania stared at him in something like horror. "It is what lies in your heart."
Then he understood. It came upon him like sunlight—not this perfect, silvery radiance that filled the Land of the Young, but the warm yellow glow of a very ordinary English afternoon. He looked within himself and saw what Titania feared.
It was love.
Love that filled his heart so completely that it could not fit through the Fane gate.
Love that was not the game at which the Fane played, but which came from the deepest reaches of a mortal soul.
Love for his son and for
He could love. He
did
.
And he was not afraid. Not for himself, not for
He grinned at Titania. "I cannot pass?"
"No." She drew herself up, merciless queen once more. "We have freed ourselves of mortal savagery and will have no more of it here. Submit yourself to me, and I will cleanse you of this taint, and all memory of the cursed realm of men."
Hartley took a step back. "Thank you, Mother, but that is a gift I do not wish."
A gaping Fane was a remarkable sight. "Have the mortals driven you mad? Come to me at once."
"No." He took another step back, and all the Fane rose up in a whir of wings and amazement.
"Do you know what you do?" Titania demanded. "If you do not submit to me, you will never enter the Blessed Land again. You will be confined forever to the mortal realm, to lose your powers and count your handful of days as the Iron wielders do. You will live among savages who kill each other and everything around them, and tolerate none who wields magic." Her voice boomed like thunder. "Is this what you wish?"
He cast a final look about Tir-na-nog, and the curious, perfect faces filled with astonishment. A few Fane called out to him, urging him to stay. The only sadness he felt was that of leaving behind a once cherished memory.
"You are right, Mother," he said. "I have been tainted by the mortal realm. Its humblest corner is more real and more wonderful than all the Land of the Young. The 'savages' value life because they can so easily lose it. And love"—he kissed Donal's forehead—"love is worth dying for."
The great bejeweled gate slammed shut. Titania blazed to the brilliance of an exploding star.
"You have chosen," she pronounced. "You are forbidden to return to the Blessed Land. Let no Fane open this gate until the end of time!" She pointed at Hartley. "Begone, mortal!"
A great clap of thunder deafened him. He bent himself over Donal and felt the blast strike.
He found himself lying on a bed of
leaves,
Donal sprawled across his chest, and Grandfather Oak stretching high above. The forest—his forest—was still with that particular silence that comes just before dawn. He breathed air sweet with growth and decay and change, listening to the beat of his very human heart.
lay
asleep among Grandfather Oak's twisting roots, an enchanted princess awaiting a kiss.
Hartley set Donal aside and ran his hands over his body, searching for the changes that must inevitably come. Eventually his hair would gray, his bones become fragile,
his
powers fade. He would be able to touch iron without pain and walk freely among men. Eventually, he would lie beside
But not yet.
Not nearly yet.
Donal stirred and yawned, rubbing at his eyes.
"Da?
Are we home?"
Hartley kissed Donal's cheek. "Yes."
"We aren't going to live in that other place?"
"No."
Donal grinned. A whole chorus of birds erupted into song all at once, filling the wood with triumphant music.
"Can I wake Mother?" Donal asked.
"Let us wake her together."
Donal crept on hands and knees to
She opened her eyes. A shaft of new sunlight broke through the trees to illuminate her face.
Her beloved, astonished, exultant face.
"My love," Hartley whispered. "We are home."
"Home!"
A voice Hartley had never expected to hear again sounded next to his left ear. Tod buzzed between him and Eden, landing with a thump on Donal's head.
Donal gave a whoop of joy and bounded upright. "I'm going to find Mrs. Byrne and tell her what I saw!" He paused with a guilty glance at
"Claudia will not hurt him now," Hartley said. "Let him go. You will never lose him, dearest one."
"I know." She nodded to Donal. "Tell Mrs. Byrne that we will be coming soon." She smiled at Hartley, while Donal set off at a run toward Hartsmere, Tod clinging to his hair like a tiny jockey.
"Our son," Hartley said tenderly, stroking her cheek. "He'll learn to live in this world without fear. We'll see to that, you and I."
She rested her forehead in the hollow of his shoulder. "Why do we lose the resilience and faith of children? Where does the magic go, Hartley?"
He enfolded her hand and guided it to her breast. "It is still here,
She gazed into his eyes. "You have come back?
To stay?"
"Forever.
With you."
Hartley kissed her again. "Will you marry me, Eden?"
"Who asks?" she inquired with a sly smile.
"Cornelius Fleming, Hartley Shaw, or the
"I will be whatever you desire, love of my life. Whom do you choose?"
"You," she said.
"Only you, my dearest husband."
They kissed, and a thousand flowers bloomed in the snow.
Mrs. Byrne packed the last apron into her portmanteau
and closed the lid with a sigh. The first of the
new year
must seem a strange time to leave Hartsmere, and perhaps she would have delayed had she not found so suitable a replacement housekeeper in Mrs. Singleton.
But it was time for her to go. The need that had summoned her here had been fulfilled. She sniffed a little, knowing she would miss these folk more than most.
Best to move on while happiness reigns
.
And she knew it would reign at Hartsmere for many a year to come.
First there had been the December wedding… that of Lady Eden Winstowe and her recently returned cousin, Mr. Cornelius Fleming. Hartley Shaw had mysteriously vanished, and the servants and tenants of Hartsmere insisted that they had no idea where he had gone. Mr. Fleming, they said among themselves, had done the proper thing in marrying the woman he had once abandoned. The dalesmen had never been as ignorant as they at first appeared.
In attendance at the nuptials was their son, Master Donal Fleming. The bride and her husband had decided that they would begin their life together without the pall of any deception. And so it would become known that Donal was what was crudely named a bastard—possibly the most cherished child ever to be born on the wrong side of the blanket. His sixth birthday celebration had followed hard on the heels of the wedding.
A fine solstice child
, Mrs. Byrne thought with satisfaction.
He is blessed indeed
.
Donal had gained not only loving parents but a new grandfather in Lord Michael Raines. After Raines's recovery from his transformation, he had spent several weeks in seclusion, cared for by his deeply repentant wife.
Lady Claudia had been quite unable to look Eden, her brother, or Hartley in the eye. She had taken a cottage in another dale and devoted herself exclusively to her husband. But Mrs. Byrne knew she was a changed woman; love had the power to redeem even such as
she
. And Claudia Raines knew the time was coming when she would have much atoning to do.
Fortunately for her, Lady Eden forgave. Lord Bradwell had remained at Hartsmere to celebrate a joyous Christmas, and then had set about restoring something of the life he had abandoned.
He and Cornelius—still Hartley to those who loved him—were well on their way to making a lasting peace.
Even Nancy, who had been forced by Lady Claudia into drugging
had blossomed in more ways than one, for she was with child again. She continued to share her generous heart with the people of the dale, and everything she touched prospered. Laughter filled Hartsmere. The winter was the mildest the dalesmen could remember, and the snow fell gently upon giggling children and sober farmers alike.
