Read Snow White and Rose Red Online
Authors: Patricia Wrede
Snow White and Rose Red (15 page)
ROSAMUND GASPED AS THE DOOR WAS WRENCHED from her hands, then let the extra breath out in a scream when she saw the broad, furry bear’s head with its pointed yellow teeth. She sprang backward, and Hugh took another step inside. Blanche’s eyes grew huge. She rolled off the pallet she had been sitting on and crouched in its inadequate shelter. The lamb scrambled to its feet and bleated a complaint at the uncomfortable cold that was entering along with the unexpected visitor.
The Widow rose and reached for the eating knife she carried at her belt, though it was far too small to be of much use against so large an animal. Rosamund took two more hasty steps backward and snatched up the long, heavy branch they had been using to poke up the logs in the fire. Pale and frightened, she stood brandishing her makeshift weapon like a club, while the bear shed snow onto the rush mats and peered shortsightedly around the room.
The Widow cleared her throat, and the bear’s head swung in her direction. She froze, while the bear squinted intently at her. Then it began to growl, its upper lip curling back to show sharp teeth. Rosamund clenched her hands around the branch until her knuckles showed white. She was about to force herself to step forward, when the bear sat back on its haunches, raised its muzzle to the ceiling, and gave a long howl of agony and despair.
Until that moment, Hugh had not realized that he would be unable to communicate with people once he found them. He had seen the light shining from the windows of the Widow’s cottage and gone toward it, half out of instinct, half from a reasoned desire for warmth and shelter. He had not stopped to consider how the inhabitants might react to the appearance of a large black bear at their door.
The fear on the faces of the three women confronting him, and the complete failure of his attempt to speak to them, brought home to Hugh the full extent of the trap he was in. He howled his despair in the only way he had left to express it, then shook himself and began backing out of the cottage. He would not terrify these people further to no purpose.
The Widow Arden had not moved since the first wave of her astonishment and fear had driven her to her feet. She stared at the bear, remembering the vision she had had while scrying for Rosamund and Blanche, but one bear is very like another and the light near the door was poor. Only when the bear began to back away in such an unbearlike fashion did the Widow summon her courage to say tentatively, “Bear?”
Hugh paused and swung his head to look at the Widow, and she was shocked at the tortured bewilderment in his eyes. Rosamund raised her branch threateningly, and the Widow caught her arm. “Peace, Rosamund. This creature’s done no harm.”
“But it’s a
bear!”
Rosamund said, bewildered by her mother’s strange response.
bear!”
Rosamund said, bewildered by her mother’s strange response.
“Belike,” the Widow said. “And belike not. Canst thou understand me, bear?”
Hugh swung his great head up and down in an exaggerated nod. Rosamund stepped backward involuntarily, and her eyes widened. Blanche stared from behind her meager cover. Even the Widow was momentarily startled into silence. Hugh looked at her with an air of patient expectation, and she hastily collected her thoughts.
“Then in the name of Jesus I adjure thee, bear, to answer truly: mean‘st thou aught that’s ill for any of us here?” said the Widow.
Hugh shook his head with even more energy than he had nodded earlier. Blanche jerked back behind the straw-stuffed pallet, and Rosamund shifted her grip on the branch she held.
“Art thou in need, then?” the Widow went on. The bear nodded, and shook himself. Great, slushy drops of half-melted snow flew in all directions, and the smell of wet fur rose to fill the cottage. The Widow flinched, then almost smiled. “Is’t the cold that’s thy first difficulty? Dost thou seek shelter from this most untimely storm?”
Hugh nodded again. The Widow hesitated, then said, “Rosamund, lay down thy club and shut the door, ere the cold doth freeze us all.”
“Thou‘lt never let this creature stay!” Rosamund said, astonished.
“How not?” the Widow said. “The bear hath promised to do no ill. Wouldst thou take the promise and turn him out to freeze? Do as I bid thee!”
Muttering under her breath, Rosamund set her branch down beside the fire and edged around the bear to the door. The noise of the storm lessened as the door swung shut. Rosamund glanced at her mother, then dropped the latch into place. The musky odor of bear intensified. Rosamund turned, shivering, and stared at their visitor.
There was a long silence. Hugh could smell the fear permeating the room, and he stood still as a post, afraid to move lest he make matters even worse. The Widow bit her lip, already regretting her impulsive generosity and wishing the bear had not had the haunted eyes of the young man she had seen in her vision three weeks before. Blanche crept slowly out of her hiding place, hoping the bear would continue to overlook her presence, and Rosamund leaned against the door and looked longingly at the branch her mother had made her leave beside the hearth.
The impasse might have gone on much longer if the lamb had not chosen that moment to investigate the new arrival. It tottered forward, its hooves making soft crunching noises against the rush mats that covered the floor. Blanche gasped. Forgetting her own fear, she ran to the lamb’s side and pulled it back toward the hearth, away from the bear.
“Thou foolish creature!” Blanche scolded the lamb. “Stay where thou‘rt meant to. Or dost thou desire to be eaten?”
Blanche settled the lamb in its place and turned, to find the bear’s eyes fixed reproachfully on her. She caught her breath, then said as steadily as she could, “I apologize if my words offended thee, bear. Yet I pray thee, remember that not all thy kind have thy restraint. I’d not have this lamb grow too familiar with thee, lest it come to grief with some other of thy fellows.”
The bear nodded awkwardly and looked away, and Blanche thought it seemed ashamed. Much of her fear vanished in concern. Impulsively, she reached out and laid a hand on the bear’s shoulder, where the fur was matted and still damp from the snow.
Rosamund’s gasp of horror mingled with the Widow’s dismayed cry of “Blanche!” The bear flinched, and Blanche pulled back as if she had been stung. Blanche and the bear stared at each other. Then, slowly, Blanche put out her hand once more.
“Blanche, do not!” the Widow said sharply.
“Nay, Mother, thou hast said there’s no harm here,” Blanche replied, but she drew away. “And I think he was as startled as I. Wast not, bear?”
Hugh gave a careful nod. Blanche smiled at her mother. “Seest thou? ‘Tis no common bear, Mother; thou hast said as much thyself. ”
“Of a certainty, ‘tis most uncommon large,” Rosamund said tartly. She was surprised by, and a little jealous of, Blanche’s unaccustomed bravery, and so she spoke more sharply than she intended.
“Rosamund.” The Widow gave Rosamund a warning look, and Rosamund flushed. Satisfied that Rosamund would say nothing else that might irritate their alarming guest, the Widow turned back to the bear. It was, as Rosamund had pointed out, very large; it was also very black and bearish. If only its eyes were not so strange and human ... “Bear,” said the Widow, “art thou of Faerie?”
Hugh hesitated, knowing that he could no longer truthfully make such a claim yet unsure whether the Widow cared for such nice distinctions. He shook his head, then nodded and looked up at the Widow, hoping for understanding.
The Widow stared in complete incomprehension. Blanche looked at her mother, then back to Hugh and said gently, “Wast thou once of Faerie, but art no more?”
Gratefully, Hugh nodded. Blanche looked at her mother again, and the Widow nodded encouragingly. “Hast thou abandoned thy former home, then?” Blanche asked. Hugh shook his head in the negative. “Wast thou cast out?”
Again, Hugh nodded. Blanche hesitated. “Was it thine own faults which brought this banishment upon thee?”
Hugh shook his head emphatically. There was a moment’s silence. Then the Widow said, “Bear, is this thy true form?”
Hugh shut his eyes, wishing that bears could weep as men did, and shook his head again.
“Mother!” said Rosamund. “Meanest thou he is enchanted?”
“ ‘Tis likely,” the Widow replied, while the bear nodded again.
Blanche reached out to touch Hugh’s shoulder briefly. “Poor bear,” she murmured.
Rosamund studied the bear with considerably less fear and more interest. “What wast thou, ere thou wast made a bear?” she asked. “Wast thou some strange creature of Faerie, or wast thou human-shaped?”
Since this question was obviously too complex for a simple yes-or-no response, Hugh did not answer. Realizing her mistake, Rosamund restated it more plainly, and soon determined that the bear’s true shape was manlike.
“Mother, thinkest thou that we may find some way to remedy this spell?” Rosamund asked.
“Perhaps,” the Widow answered cautiously. “But thou wilt recall that thou and thy sister did promise just this evening to forego the working of spells if I would tell you more of them.”
“Mother!” Blanche said. “How canst thou compare that to the breaking of such a horrible enchantment as is this? And how can we refuse to do all in our power to correct this evil?”
The Widow hesitated, but she knew her daughter was right. “We cannot refuse,” she replied with a smothered sigh. “But ‘twill be neither easy nor safe even to try, and success is most uncertain. My small store of knowledge may not be enough for this task.”
“Doubt not that thou‘lt do it, Mother,” Rosamund assured her with the buoyant confidence of youth. “And we’ll take whatever measures thou thinkst necessary for our safety, and observe them to the smallest detail.”
“‘Tis not enough,” the Widow said. Rosamund and Blanche looked at her in surprise, and she smiled through her apprehension. “Nay, look not so grim; I cannot deny you parts in this whate’er my wishes, for I’ll need your help. But ‘twill not be sufficient for you two to follow all my strictures. You must both be wary of yourselves, and careful beyond what I tell you. This matter is of Faerie, and will require all your caution and good sense.”
Rosamund looked sober, and Blanche solemn. “We understand, Mother,” Blanche said.
Rosamund nodded agreement. “What must we do?” she asked.
The Widow smiled. “Little enough, for tonight. Settle thyself beside the fire, sir bear, where thou‘lt be warmer and less a hindrance to my daughters and me. Rosamund, Blanche, go back to your places, and we’ll question this bear further while we work. We must know more of this spell ere we attempt to counter it.”
Rosamund and Blanche were a little disappointed by this prosaic answer, but they did as they were told. In contrast, Hugh, settling himself carefully on the hearth, felt a faint stirring of hope. He quashed it firmly. He had no doubt that his mother had used every power at her disposal to counteract the spell that bound him, and where the Queen of Faerie herself had failed, what could a mere mortal accomplish?
Questioning the bear became a game for Rosamund and Blanche, and the evening passed quickly. When the time came to put out the rushlight and go to sleep, they had established that the bear did not know who had enchanted him or why, that he had no friends in Faerie on whom to call, and that the spell had struck him on the afternoon of All Hallows’ Eve. This last information made Blanche and Rosamund exchange speculative glances, but a warning look from their mother made them keep silent about the two sorcerers they had seen at the edge of Faerie that day.
Early next morning, the bear left the cottage with stern instructions from the Widow to return in the evening, and not before. As soon as he was gone, Rosamund and Blanche began a lively discussion about their strange guest and the likelihood of successfully disenchanting him. The Widow listened with familiar feelings of misgiving. She had no reason to mistrust the bear, but neither did she have reason to accept his story without question, and creatures out of Faerie were notoriously chancy to deal with.
She let Rosamund and Blanche talk until breakfast was over, then sent them to begin their daily chores.
In the lodging house in Mortlak, John, too, rose early. Impatient and eager to begin his search for Hugh, he dressed swiftly and swallowed his breakfast in almost a single gulp. Then he bundled his cloak around him and went out into the streets of the town.
Other books
Wyoming Wildfire (Harlequin Historical) by Lane, Elizabeth
Year of the Griffin by Diana Wynne Jones
B006K5TA1E EBOK by Collins, Yvonne, Rideout, Sandy
High-heeled Wonder (A Killer Style Novel) (Entangled Ignite) by Flynn, Avery
Dark Heart Rising by Lee Monroe
Touched By Angels by Debbie Macomber
Lost Cause by J.R. Ayers
Artemis Invaded by Jane Lindskold
Wings by Terry Pratchett
BZRK Reloaded by Michael Grant