Dragon's Keep (9 page)

shouted
, Cook cried. Mother had fallen from her horse riding
home from the fair. She'd lain alone for hours bleeding and unable to move. At
last she'd gathered strength enough to ride back to the castle and now lay
recovering in her chamber.

Hearing the news, Father flung his cloak
aside. "Why did no one come for me!" he shouted.

Sir Magnus bowed. "The queen only just
arrived herself. We'd thought her all this time to be with you at the
fair."

Father rushed to her solar. I paced the floor
with Kit and Marn and waited as Sir Magnus went in and out with herbs and
bandages. At last Mother called me to her bed. I
greatly feared the
sight of her, hearing from Cook that she was gashed
and bloody.
"A rotting branch broke and
fell right acrost her path," said Cook,
her fat cheeks trembling.
"It was a fairy spelled the branch, for didn't it startle her horse so bad
he reared and threw the queen to the ground? She tumbled through a thorn bush,
struck her head on a stone, and all was black. There she lay torn and bleeding
for
hours, poor thing. And here we were
having our supper the whole
time, not
thinking a thing was wrong. Ah," she cried. "She should
never have ridden home alone on Midsummer's Eve,
for that's the night of the fairies' high feast.
Mind.
You'd never catch me out of
doors on Midsummer's Eve.
Fair
or no."

When Father bid me go, Kit kissed my cheek
for courage. I tried to put on a smile before stepping into Mother's chamber.
I'd hoped to make her laugh with stories of the fair. But I lost my purpose as
I slipped through the door. Propped in her bed with
scratched cheeks, a swollen eye, and head and arm all bandaged,
Mother
looked for
all the
world like Lord Broderick on the
day

he'd
skirmished with a boar. Her torn gown and
bloodstained gloves lay on the corner chair. Sir Magnus's herbs soured the
room.

"Come by me," she whispered. I sat
on her bed, clinging to t
he wooden post and
looking at the fire to keep my eyes from her
swollen face.

The logs popped and I could see a roll of
charred vellum burning in the fire. The edges of the vellum had already turned
to ash.

"There's nothing to fear now,
Rosie," said Mother. She told me of her fall. The horse had awakened her
with a nudge, and finding herself scratched and bruised, she climbed back into
the saddle. "I was foolish to ride alone, but the evening was so fair and
I long to be alone at times."

"Not with so many footpads about. You've
told me yourself never to go without an escort!"

"Rosalind, don't talk to me as if I am
your child." Her eyes were hard as wet stones.

I remembered Cook's words and told Mother,
hoping to soften her eyes again. "Cook said a fairy spell spilled you from
your mare."

Mother tried to smile, her swollen cheek
puffing out with effort. "Well, that's Cook," she said, her voice a
little lighter than before. "It wasn't a fairy. A raven startled my
horse."

I frowned. "Sir Magnus said you told him
earlier a branch fell across your path."

"I what?"
Mother looked startled. "Oh, don't believe Magnus,"
she snapped. "He wasn't there. I was!"

Again the hard tone.
"What's wrong?" I asked, confused.

"I'm tired and sore, that's all."
Her voice was low again but
heavy. She
leaned forward and touched my hair. "You look so fair
tonight, my
little rose."

Tears rolled down my
cheeks.

"Don't cry now. All will be well with
your Prince Henry across the sea."

"I cry for you. Why do you always have
to bring up Henry?"

"Because he's our
hope, Rosalind!
Do you think I
want my girl to rule an island plagued by dragons and footpads?"

Why shout at me? I
toyed with her coverlet, thinking I would be glad to rule here. Wilde Island was my home. But Mother was
hot and cold
by turns. Whatever happened when she fell had changed her. I hoped the change
would pass away when her wounds were healed.

"It's late," said Mother. "You
should be abed. But call my maid before you go and tell her to burn the bloody
gloves and gown. They're torn beyond repair."

I called Lady Beech and
left Mothers solar, the smells of ser
pent's
tongue and blood mingling in my nostrils.

Witch's Hollow

By
the next day
we'd
learned more of the strange events fol
lowing the Midsummer Fair. Sheriff William came early to
tell us
Kent the coppersmith had been
attacked and eaten by the dragon on the way home from the fair. And also Tess
was missing. The sheriff suspected witchcraft here, though he would not
say in front of me the reasons he suspected this.
Father closed the
door. Pressing my ear to the crack, I tried to listen
in, but their voices were too low.

After the sheriff left, my head was in
turmoil over Tess. I could not attend to my lessons on the dragon wars. Sister
Anne was schooling me about the treaty signed in France, a treaty broken soon
after by the dragons, when I paused to ask, "Is it true dragons cannot
cry?"

"What year was the treaty signed,
Rosalind?" she asked.

"Tell me, is it true?"

Sister Anne sighed. "I am told this is
so." She put down her book. "Tears put out their inner fire. Once
this fire goes out a dragon dies."

"So they cannot repent," I said.

"You should ask Father Hugh that."

"I'm asking you."

Sister Anne crossed
herself. "It's better not to ask such things,
Princess."

"Why not?
A dragon ate the coppersmith and mayhap Tess as well.
Even now they look for her. A murderer can repent before he's hanged, but can
a dragon?"

"You cannot hang a dragon!" said
Sister Anne with alarm. "I think you've had enough study for one
day." And she left with the haste of one who has need of the privy.

With the dragon on the hunt I was forbidden
to leave the castle without Mother's or Father's consent, but late in the day I
tugged Kit down the stairs. Sneaking out the servants' door, we crept over the
drawbridge. On the grassy hill we climbed the maple tree for a better view of
town and woods beyond.

Up the lane in the graveyard, I heard the
clanging of the stonemason's chisel carving Kent's name in the dragonstone. My
spine panged with each pound of the hammer.

High in the boughs Kit and I watched the sun
running off with the last of the day.

"Look," I said, pointing to a
meadow in the woods outside of town. "See the horsemen riding round in
Witch's Hollow?"

Kit tipped her head to spy the sheriff's men,
her blond hair spilling from her cap. I shivered, looking on. Was the sheriff
searching for Tess in that cursed place?

"There sits a princess on her
perch!" shouted Bram the pig-boy, giving us a whistle as he came up the
hill.

"Hush, clodpole."

"Call me clodpole and I'll keep my news
to myself."

I snorted. What sort of
news could a pigboy have? "Have you
stolen
more honey? Where are your stings?"

"No honey, Princess," he said,
rocking back on his heels,
bo
away.

Kit covered her nose. Bram's stink reached us
both even in i he branches.

"Aye, you won't hear of the murder,
then." He swung his arms as he started down the hill.

"Wait!" We scrambled down the tree.
"Tell me who was killed," I said, my mouth going dry as salt beef.

The pigboy crossed his arms. "Tell your
maid to kiss me and I'll say."

"Say now by order of the queen!"

"I see no queen here," said Bram,
looking round the stand of maples.

"You see the future queen. Now
speak!"

Bram leaned against the tree. "Six bread
rolls from Cook's larder and a half a pound of cheese," he bargained. The
boy was always hungry.

"Three rolls and a
quarter pound."

Bram gave a nod and pointed to his right at
the forest beyond Dentsmore. "They found Tess the chandler's wife there
in Witch's Hollow."

My skin pricked. Id
last seen Tess running through the blow
ing
bailey saying she had someone to meet.

"Was it the dragon killed her?" I
asked.

"There were dragon signs there. Aye, the
beast had come to Witch's Hollow, but this killing was not his. He ate the
coppersmith instead or haven't you heard?"

"I knew it," I said.

Bram picked up a stone and flung it toward
the castle.

"How do I know you speak the truth about
Tess?"

"Ah." He nodded. "I saw the
corpse myself not half an hour
ago as I was
coming through the woods to town. Sheriff William's
men tugged me away
but not before I saw the pool of blood on the grass. Stabbed three times, she
was. The last time in the heart," he said, licking his lips. "
Aye,
and it was gruesome sure. More blood than I ever saw at
a pig killing.
Much more."

Bram rubbed his hands together. "She
must have put up a fight. I was close enough to see the scratches on her face
and arms, and there was dried blood under her fingernails. But the
witch knife did the trick, and she was left to
bleed to death whilst
Demetra flew back to her cottage."

"How do you know it was Demetra did
it?"

Bram clicked his
tongue. "Ah, well," he said, his brown teeth
showing too much as he smiled.

"Tell me!"

"The hag has come to town once too
often. Didn't you see the cat at the fair?"

"Aye, Kit and I both saw it."

"'Twas Demetra's
kith-beast creeping hither and thither," he said, wiggling his filthy
fingers, "frightening the wee ones, and spelling the dogs till they
frothed at the mouth."

Kit grabbed my arm and I felt her cold hand
through my sleeve.

"Ah, that wasn't
the cat." I laughed, showing my ease to dis
pel Kit's fears. "The dogs frothed from lapping up spilled
beer."

"Spilled beer, was it?" Bram gave a
guilty look, for he'd lapped it up himself. "Never
you
think
so."

"A stray cat proves
nothing of Demetra's part in this murder."

"No? All signs
point to Demetra. Didn't she fly back to Tess's
cottage?"

Bram's logic had begun
to vex me. "How do you know this?
Did
you see her?"

"Myself?" said
Bram, offended. "I do my best to stay clear of
witches. I have pigs to look after. But I'm told she
left the mark
of the witch along the
chandler's walls. Written in blood, it was."

Kit and I crossed ourselves three times.

"Too, she stole some coins, and magic
stones, and a scroll."

"Scroll?"
I said through a strangled throat.

"Aye, something she'd given Tess to
guard. Her husband knew where Tess hid those things, and he told the sheriff it
was missing."

"How do you know this, pigboy?"

"Didn't I follow the sheriff back to the
chandler's cottage so I could hear him break the bad news to the chandler? Oh,
and I could hear both men well enough through the window."

The sky was growing a deeper purple, and
there was the smell of roses and lavender in the air. But my skin was cold. I
wrapped my arms about my chest and leaned against the tree.

Could this be Demetra's
scroll on which my secret curse was
writ?
If this were true, why would Demetra kill Tess and steal it
back? There was a roll of vellum burning in
Mothers hearth. Fear
rose up my throat but I swallowed it back down. It
couldn't have been the same scroll. Mother fell from her horse on her way home.
She had the bruises and scratches to prove it.

"The villagers will be after Demetra
now," said Bram, chewing on a blade of grass. "Death by
hanging," he mused.
"Or by cleansing fire, if
they've a mind to."

"No," I said to calm Kit,
"they'll let the sheriff chain up Demetra and bring her into town for
trial."

The pigboy rolled back his head and laughed.
"Oh, aye, they'll stand aside like docile lambs whilst the sheriff sees
justice is done."

"Get away from me, pigbrat," I
shouted. He left, but not in
the direction
of the castle. Bram was running fast to meet the vil
lagers gathering on
the road.

I stepped away from the tree and took Kit's
hand. We watched the crowd marching up the road leading to the mountain path.

Kit's grip tightened and her
eyes
sparked. Her mother was in Demetra's cave, and who was to say Ali wouldn't be
seen as just another witch to hang or burn as the people liked?

Down the hill we flew through the foreyard to
the castle stable. I tossed a coin to silence the stable boy, and we led the