Songs of Love & Death (7 page)

Mad, Martha thought, tears gathering in her eyes. Tragically, the man was mad.

“See.” He straightened, showing her a small golden earring as if it were a wonder of the orient. “Is it not wonderful?”

“You must return it to its owner,” Martha said gently.

“Of course, but it’s proof, you see.”

“Proof of what?”

“That you’re my marrying maid. How soon can we be wed?”

“Mr. Loxsleigh, I am not going to marry you.”

He shook his head, as if she were a moonling.

Martha reached for the only weapon she had. “I’m promised to another.”

That did cloud his sun. “Do you love him?”

Martha couldn’t quite lie. “We are very well suited,” she said and set off along the path toward the street, toward people. Sane people.

He passed her and spoke walking backward. “You
don’t
love him. Of course you don’t. A marrying maid wants no other. I wonder why I didn’t find you years ago.”

“Perhaps,” she said tightly, “because we belong in different spheres and still do.”

“Ah! Your father was a canon. Did you live close to the Minster?”

The safety of the street lay ahead, but he blocked her way. “Yes.”

“And in the long years of caring for your father, did you mostly stay at home?”

“Of course.”

“That explains it, then. Faery powers can’t work in powerful Christian spaces.”

Fairies.
He was a worse case than she’d feared.

He turned and opened the gate for her. “If I try to explain, you’ll never believe me.”

“Quite likely I won’t,” she said, safe at last on the street.

“Martha, my dear, just say yes.”

She looked him in the eye. “No.”

“Come to Five Oaks.”

“No.”

“What harm can it do?”

“Said the spider to the fly.” She marched on. Aunt Clarissa’s house was in
view. Martha had never been so glad to see it.

“Come to Five Oaks,” he persisted. “It will change your mind. But if it doesn’t, I’ll bother you no more. And that is a painful promise for me to make.”

Martha was struck by his sincerity and slowed her steps. “Why?”

He didn’t immediately answer and seemed to be calculating her reaction. “If you don’t marry me,” he said at last, “I will die.”

“Die of love? We hardly know each other!”

“Simply die. And not just me. Many others.”

Mad, mad, but she was suddenly unable to abandon him. If she went to his home, she would be with her mother. Aunt Clarissa would know where they went. Perhaps his father didn’t realize how sad a case he was. There might be some way to help him.

“Very well,” Martha said at last. “I will visit Five Oaks.”

He beamed, all that bright light shining, but the song came from elsewhere, as did the burst of ethereal laughter. Martha looked around even as she knew neither was anything to do with the here and now.

Was insanity infectious?

B
Y MORNING
M
ARTHA
had second, third, twentieth doubts about the wisdom of her decision, especially in light of her dreams. That one kiss had unleashed wickedness beyond comprehension, and even more vivid images of impossible things.

Mr. Loxsleigh arrived, and though he was striving to appear normal, his eyes revealed that madness still rode him. Not dangerous madness, she assured herself. What was more, he’d brought a luxurious traveling carriage drawn by six horses, which meant three postilions who would hardly allow evil.

She guessed he intended rash speed, however, and said, “We will travel only as fast as is reasonable, sir.”

He handed her into the carriage. “We must reach Five Oaks today.”

Martha paused in the doorway. “Why?”

She caught him staring into nowhere, but then he was with her again, smiling. “My impatience to see you there, Miss Darby. But my word on it, we’ll travel no faster than is safe.”

With yet more misgivings, Martha took her seat at her mother’s side, facing the horses. It was difficult to be a well-bred lady who never behaved improperly, and did not upset arrangements.

“How lovely to travel post,” her mother said. “So kind of you, Mr. Loxsleigh.”

He took the opposite seat. “It is you who are kind, ma’am, agreeing to come to Five Oaks.”

As the carriage moved off, Martha gripped her hands together. She forced them to relax. She was safe. Any other impression was a lingering effect of her dream.

Or proximity to a man. The seating put her far too close to Loxsleigh. Their knees almost touched. Unless she chose to look outside all the way, she must look at him, be aware of how he looked at her with eyes that now seemed to gleam emerald bright.

She turned away as if fascinated by the sight of the castle over nearby houses.

He said, “Our road is good according to those coming south.”

In other words, he claimed speed was safe. To prove it, as soon as they left the town the horses picked up their pace. It did not jolt over ruts, however, so Martha couldn’t reasonably complain.

Extravagantly, they halted for new horses in an hour, and then again. They would have continued that way till dark if Martha hadn’t prompted him to stop
to dine at gone two o’clock. He agreed, but though he smiled and conversed, he hurried them through their meal and out again to the carriage. Even Martha’s mother commented on it.

“Is there urgency, Mr. Loxsleigh? Do you have bad news from home?”

“No, ma’am. I’m merely anxious that we arrive before dark.”

“If it becomes dark,” Martha said, “we must stop.”

He looked at her with something like rage and she shrank back, wishing there was some way to escape with propriety. He instantly smiled, so that she might have believed she’d imagined the reaction, but she didn’t.

He turned to her mother. “There’s a family legend that might interest you, ma’am, as it concerns the oldest part of Five Oaks. May I relate it to pass the time?”

“By all means, Mr. Loxsleigh.”

“Long, long ago,” he began, “an ancestor, also called Robert Loxsleigh, traveled the land, seeking to do his knightly duty and defend the weak. One night, he became lost in dense woodland despite the fact that it was a full moon. When he came into a clearing he saw a beautiful woman being assaulted by a man. He leaped from his horse, drew his sword, and rushed between them. The lady fell on his chest in gratitude, but the man was furious. He declared Sir Robert was his prisoner for entering a Faery circle under the full moon. You see the warring couple were Titania and Oberon, Queen and King of Faery.”

“As in Shakespeare!” Anne Darby exclaimed. “‘Ill met by moonlight.’ How interesting.”

“Ill met, indeed,” Loxsleigh agreed, but when he turned to Martha, that fire of intensity burned. Worse, she felt it in herself now, as if she had urgent need to race to his home, but it fought with a desperate need to turn away from the course.

“Sir Robert sought to escape, but his horse had disappeared, as had his squire and all the woodland except for the five gnarled oaks that circled him. He knew of faery ways, and knew that a mortal who invaded a faery circle at full moon was their prisoner. He believed himself lost to our world, but Titania took him under her protection and declared that he should go free, and would even receive a reward. One wish.”

“What did he wish for?” Anne Darby asked.

“Remember, ma’am, he was a truly noble knight. He asked for some talent that would enable him to help the poor and helpless even more than before.”

“Ah, the good man.”

“What talent?” Martha asked, hearing her tension make it harsh.

Loxsleigh looked at her. “The ability to find lost gold.”

“Lost?”

“Coins, salvers, jewelry.”

“Such as an earring?”

Their eyes were locked. “Quite possibly.” But then he turned to her mother. “Anything already mined and formed by man. Gold is a mystical metal, valued everywhere. Some believe it also has mystic and healing powers. It serves us well and shouldn’t be lost. According to this story, faery has the task of ensuring that lost gold is found and returned to use. Have you ever heard the story of the gold at the end of a rainbow?”

Martha clung to silence, unable to understand why she felt such threat. Her mother seemed unaffected and asked to know more.

“That legend appears in many places. It says that if a person can find the place where a rainbow touches the ground, they will find gold. Thus it is a way for faery to put some of their trove back into human hands. Or, sometimes buried gold is brought to the surface to be exposed by the plough, or coins hidden in a wall are revealed when someone is inspired to break it down.”

“I have heard of such cases,” Anne Darby declared, wide-eyed.

“It’s only a legend, Mother.”

That caused Loxsleigh to look at her again. “You doubt, Miss Darby, and therein lies the problem. Once, the fey folk lived close to humans, dwelling in the dense woodlands that surrounded every village and manor, interacting with people according to their whim. But much of that woodland has been cut down and the land put to agriculture, and modern thought has made skeptics of us all. Nowadays faery lives among us only in their mystic havens. To continue the work, Titania made Sir Robert her deputy, enabling him to find lost gold and put it to use to benefit the poor.”

“Then why,” Martha asked, “are his descendants so rich?”

“Martha!” her mother protested.

But Loxsleigh smiled. As if she’d opened a door.

“Queen Titania wished Sir Robert to found a line that would continue this work, so she bound him with rules. He must keep a seventh of the value of any trove and use it for his own health and prosperity. He must marry and sire children, so that an eldest son would carry on the work, and so must his heirs for all time. Those with the talent must do the work. If he or his descendants broke these rules there was a penalty—they would die within the year. Not just the trouvedor, for thus the gold finders are called, but all Robert’s descendants to that day.”

“Over five hundred years?” Anne Darby exclaimed. “That could be a vast number!”

“Faery is not benign, ma’am. We are as moths to them, dead in a moment.”

And that rang deadly true. Martha desperately tried to make sense of this, but she remembered him saying that if she did not marry him, he would die. He could
not
be claiming that this story was true, that he possessed a fairy gift!

“Those are easy enough conditions, Mr. Loxsleigh,” Martha said with deliberate flippancy. “To live a comfortable life and marry.”

“Martha,” her mother said again, becoming distressed.

Loxsleigh still smiled, but Martha was more and more aware of dark tension all around him. “As you say, Miss Darby. Except that Oberon does his best to thwart his queen.”

The coach lurched into an inn then for a change of horses, breaking the moment. Almost breaking a spell.

Was that it? Was she under a spell? Was that why she’d agreed to this mad journey?

But that would mean it was all true. Fairies. Gold finders.

He climbed down to inspect the new horses and pay the fees. She watched him, remembering the earring. His bright burning exultation. Him sweeping her up in that mad whirl. A predictor of this mad whirl. But she’d been alive then. Alive as never before.

No, she would have none of this. She was a rational Christian woman. The man was mad, and she could only pray he wasn’t dangerously so.

He climbed back in and the coach moved on.

Martha’s mother said, “You mentioned Oberon, sir. Do tell us more.”

Martha saw that he wanted to tell her, intended to tell her, and could do nothing to prevent it.

“You will remember that Oberon had reason to hate Robert Loxsleigh, but by faery law he could not deny his lady’s gifts. Titania had already imposed rules and a dreadful consequence, however, so he set out to make obedience difficult. He decreed that Robert Loxsleigh and his heirs would not achieve their talent until they married, and that they must marry a woman that he would choose, and before their twenty-fifth birthday.

“Titania insisted that the woman must be healthy, and of a suitable age and station, but she and her husband enjoy their battles, so she made no more attempt than that. Thus—if we are to believe my family lore—there will always be a destined bride for the Loxsleigh heir, but Oberon will make her hard to find.” He turned to Martha. “When found, however, there will be no doubt. On either side. We call the bride his marrying maid.”

Martha inhaled, clenching her fists.

How old are you?

She would not ask, she would not. She turned away, looking outside, and noticed gathering clouds. Rain often turned the roads to mud and she prayed for it. She didn’t want to reach his house, and with delay perhaps she could escape.

“What a charming story,” Anne Darby said.

Martha turned to her mother.
“Charming?”

“Fairies, noble knights, and brides.”

“And threat of death for many, if there was any truth in it.”

“But there isn’t, is there, dear?”

Martha forced a smile. “No, of course not. I was swept away by it for a moment. The weather looks ominous, sir. We should stop at the next stage.”

“We can reach Five Oaks today, I promise,” Loxsleigh said.

Martha didn’t argue. If she was any judge, the clouds would do her work for her.

Her mother asked, “Does the name Five Oaks come from that legend? From the oak trees in the glade?”

“It does, ma’am. In fact, the legend says that the old part of the house was built in that very glade, as you will see for yourself within hours.” He looked out at the gathering clouds, however, and frowned.

“Do you have any other stories, Mr. Loxsleigh?” her mother asked.

Martha closed her eyes briefly, wondering what more there could be.

“I do have one more, ma’am, which is very whimsical. We left Sir Robert with his faery gift, and once he married his marrying maid, he used his talent but kept the seventh, thus obeying the rules. However, he began to find it harder to distribute the gold to the poor. His generous charities were beginning to cause comment. He tried leaving gold for people to find, as faery had done, but it offended him when it was found by rascals or the rich.