The Accidental Highwayman (12 page)

“Magda has one of those,” I cried. “Dreadful thing in her eye socket.”

“She didn't tell me this. I haven't seen her in many years,” the princess said. “She was my nursemaid when I was a child. It's been two score years at least; we have sent many a bee back and forth, but never met since her exile. If Magda has a scrying stone, she's been to the Realm Beyond, and knew what she was about when she told your master of these things.”

“But then surely she knew my master must die,” I said, horrified.

“Manlings die like mayflies, scarce knowing the sun,” said the princess. “A quote from the
Book of Songs
.”

I began to understand something: These people didn't adhere to the human schedule. If, as she had remarked earlier, it had been fifty years since she was an infant, and she looked about ten-and-seven now, then she was all but immortal, as far as I was concerned. There was something chilly and ruthless about her way of saying these things; I wondered if that was the true measure of her after all.

“That's comforting,” I mumbled. “Anyhow, back to the map: the next sketch shows—” And then I realized I didn't know what the next sketch was. “What is that?”

The others leaned close. The princess was so near I could smell her: It was a strange scent, like the air after a rain, or snow melting on a warm day. Pleasant, but not altogether human. I observed the tips of her ears came to distinct points that swept back away from her face.

“'Tis the gobling crest,” she said.

Gruntle made frightened noises, and Willum explained, “The King has three legions, called ‘Above, Upon, and Below.' That's their relationship to the earth, you understand. Our cousins the pixies patrol the air, the goblings guard the surface, and the trolls are underground. In great emergencies the goblings take all three.”

“So you can't tunnel your way out of the country,” I said, hoping to amuse them.

“We tried that,” Gruntle said. “My nuncle got et by a mole.”

 

Chapter 12

A PARTING OF WAYS

M
IDNIGHT HADN'T
been properly groomed since the beginning of our adventures, so I spent a while rubbing him down with straw, cleaning his hooves, and attending to his tack. Then I transferred the contents of my master's pockets to my own, including the heavy stock of gold, and buried his criminal costume beneath the straw. I kept only the hat and boots, for the hat was of a common type, and the boots were too good to give up. Later I would discover they were too good to keep.

While I worked, Princess Morgana occupied herself at the far end of the barn, whispering through a crack in the wall; it seemed there was someone on the other side, or else she was speaking to a person within, concealed from my sight. An uncommon number of bees flew in and out of the place; I thought there must be a hive in the eaves. I heard small voices, but only in fragments, as one might hear choirboys trying valiantly to be quiet before a hymn.

My mind was all in a kippage.
*
We each had pressing problems, but literally worlds apart: I was in danger of apprehension by a vindictive officer who saw enemies in every face and suspicion in my boots. The princess was in danger of apprehension by magical henchmen and marriage to the prince regent. Her so-called rebel forces had rescued me from destruction more than once; I had rescued her almost as often. Had I taken the magical purse, we would never have met again. Because I had refused it, we were still thrown together. But there wasn't any mutual business left between us. I resolved to do the decent thing and wish her farewell, then be on my way. Wherever that was.

Midnight, much refreshed, attempted to eat the ribbon in my hair, and I thought it well to get him out-of-doors for some exercise, as he was prone to mischief when bored. So I inquired politely if Princess Morgana was prepared to take to the road.

“Go when thou wilt,” said she.

“Allow me to escort you away from this turbulent town,” I suggested. “There is a crossing a short march to the west, and there we may part. As friends, I hope.”

“France lies in the other direction,” she said. “Thou needst not turn away from your path on my account, for I will disguise myself in some manner as thou hast seen, and thus travel anonymously. My feyín companions will remain invisible.”

“Pray forgive me for questioning your readiness for such a journey, ma'am. My concern is that a royal person of your high station might not be accustomed to traveling alone. If we walk but a league or two together, I might acquaint you with the essentials.”

“I have oft traveled in the manling world,” said she, haughty as a bishop.

“In a fine coach, with those uncanny servants at your side?”

“As befits my station,” she spake, and the air seemed to grow cooler inside the barn. I am certain that it did. Although I could have gazed upon her for the rest of my days, I had no desire to suffer her scorn for another minute. She made me feel common.

“Then,” said I, “I shall press the matter no further. I'm sure you know well enough of inns and wayhouses, of coach-hires and vagabonds and rank-riders, of sore feet and broken shoes and many a league between breakfast and dinner. Best of luck.”

I thought that concluded our business, but the princess seemed as if she might burst. There was a species of fury rising up in her features that distorted them by degrees until it appeared she was transforming herself by magic. I pretended not to notice, but cinched up Midnight's saddle and set the bridle upon his head, then turned his nose toward the door.

“Do not
dare
to call me sheltered from the storms of life,” said the princess.

I shrugged. “The rain falls on everyone, but it's paupers get wettest, they say. If you cannot fly across the country, you must ride; if you cannot ride, you must walk; and if you walk, you walk among men. If you are confident you'll require no guide, I'm confident Midnight will carry me far away, and there's an end to it.”

She stared at me a long while, her eyes flickering. I could not say if she was defiant, dismissive, determined, or disappointed. All of these emotions seemed to take a turn playing upon her features, and none gained the upper hand. At last she composed herself and nodded once.

“Fare thee well, 'prentice to a highwayman,” said the princess.

I walked Midnight from the barn and threw myself into the saddle, then made some show of adjusting a stirrup leather, to give the princess time to reconsider. But no word of compromise issued from within, so I got Midnight reared up into a pesade with his forelegs waving prettily, tipped my hat, and off we went. I thought I detected the whispering of small voices in the shrubbery thereabouts as we made our way back to the high road.

One might question my valor that I left such a rare creature as the princess to the whims of fortune, but I'd heard such resolve in her voice when we argued the point—and felt the very fluid of the air grow cold—that I knew any further argument was fruitless. There was more to her than obstinacy, however. She had great hidden strengths. And she had
magic
. I only fancied I might be of service to her because I'd spent my life underestimating the female sex, as was the fashion of that time. So instead, I rode on.

I confess I was profoundly disappointed, although it was an absurd thing to feel: I'd no place in this mysterious princess's life, nor she in mine. It was a mad coincidence that brought us together at all. Yet—yet. Still I seethed with disappointment. It was the first time in my life I ever regretted what had
not
come to pass, disaster though it might have been.

I reached the road and looked left and right, deliberating which way to go. To the east was the Channel, where I could find a boat to take Midnight and I abroad. To the west was Ireland, across the sea. Went I the one way, and I could leave my human pursuers behind. Went I the other, and I would be safe from goblings and the like. I had neglected to ask if there were goblings in France.

Whichever route I chose, there was a deal of ground to cover. Last I had seen him, Captain Sterne was riding west, so I resolved to go east, and turned Midnight toward the town. Once we were through it, he could run for many a mile before we came to another settled place. My disguise was proved with every passerby: None spared me a second glance, though Midnight drew the admiring eye of any who knew good horseflesh.

What happened next would not have transpired, had I not been so preoccupied with the events of the last two days. My head was crowded with strange things: goblings, trolls, ancient witches, exquisite princesses, and tiny winged men with lanterns in their trousers. I thought of royal weddings. I considered the implications of enlightened science working hand in glove with magical powers, and a war among invisible people waged across England, of which hardly a soul would know—or perhaps they would. Perhaps this magical rebellion would split the island of Albion right up the middle and sink it into the sea. I knew nothing, and I wasn't likely to learn anything more.

So engrossed was I that I rode through the town without much caution. There weren't any soldiers afoot, and none but them would have any reason to suspect me. If my horse was of better quality than I, it meant nothing; the lowest stable boy may ride the finest champion. I reached the far end of the town without altogether knowing what we passed on the way. Then I was popped out of my study the way a cork pops out of a bottle, for I heard a familiar voice.

“I've decided, lads,” I heard Captain Sterne remark. “You on this side, take the prisoners in their cage to London. The rest of you, I'll commandeer horses and we shall ride out until we find him.”

The voice came through the gates of a courtyard to my right. It was a large inn, the yard surrounded by a tall brick wall, and Sterne and his men were on the other side of the wall. I could see the back of Sterne's head over the top, but only the plumes on the soldiers' hats. So the captain was sitting on his horse, and the men were standing to attention. Although none of them could see me, I ducked down low in the saddle.

“To this countryside, Whistling Jack has been a nightmare,” Sterne went on. “Now I am his nightmare.”

Had I not heard his voice, I would have ridden straight past the gate, and he would have seen me. Would not Captain Sterne find it peculiar that I had been first dressed as a peasant, next clad in a brown suit, and on the third occasion astride a magnificent horse, always in the same boots? Then his men would further identify me as the chap that fell off the bridge. And
then
the captain would discover the turndowns tucked into my boots. Between those, the pistol, and the gold, I'd surely hang.

Just before we reached the gate, I reined Midnight around, still bent low in the saddle, and clucked in his ear to urge him back the way we came.

“First, we shall ride toward—” Sterne's words ran out abruptly. I urged Midnight to stand still.

“Did you hear that?” Captain Sterne said. I could tell by his voice that he was now facing the wall between us. “Those footfalls and the creak of the leathers? It's the very beast we seek. I never forget a horse, lads. Not sight nor sound of it.”

I heard the clip-clop of hooves approaching the gateway. If only I had paid attention as I rode through town! Before me was a maze of streets bisected by the crowded main thoroughfare, lined with little cottages. I could gallop straight up that and hope we didn't collide with anyone, or pelt off among the lanes and hope we didn't circle around back into Sterne's embrace. There must be some other way. I looked at the houses, the gardens. I hadn't any idea what to do.

“You there!” came the voice of Captain Sterne behind me. “On the black. Come here.”

I pretended not to hear him, or rather I didn't listen, but rode on, moving away from him at a dreadfully slow walk. On either side were dwellings of thatch, all roof and hardly any walls.

“On the black horse,” Sterne cried. “Halt!”

I heard the song of his sword rising from its sheath, and knocked my heels against Midnight's sides. The horse had been waiting eagerly for my command, and sprang forward. But I didn't guide him up the thoroughfare. Instead I drove him straight at the nearest cottage. Sterne's mount clattered after us in a trice, and I heard the hobnailed boots of the soldiers coming up behind. But I didn't look back, because Sterne himself might not remember my face. He might only remember my horse. I urged Midnight to jump an instant before he would have collided with the stone wall of the cottage.

He might not have followed my command, except the thatch of the roof looked as much like a steep hill as anything else, I suppose. He must have thought we could climb up it. So he sprang with all his strength. We soared up over the wall, crashed into the roof, and the thatch—being little more than reeds laid on a frame of staves—collapsed entirely. We went straight through it like a cannonball through a sail.