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Authors: Diane Stanley

Tags: #Childrens, #Fantasy, #Young Adult

The Cup and the Crown (26 page)

BOOK: The Cup and the Crown
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“What am I supposed to do? We were meant to do this together.”

“And so we will,” he said, pulling his knife from its scabbard and setting it down before her. “We’ll start right now, in fact—because there’s a third ingredient that’s not in the usual formula.”

She cocked her head.

“Blood, Molly—remember? And apparently it has to be yours. That’s why you saw gold inside the cup when I saw silver. The enchantment comes with the gilding.”

She nodded, then studied her hand, back and front. At last she took up the dagger and made a neat slice, not too deep, right over a web of tiny veins near the spot where her thumb met the wrist. Holding her hand over the bowl, she watched the scarlet drops fall onto powdered gold. When she judged it was enough, she looked up at Jakob, who was ready with a strip of gauze to bind her wound.

“Excuse me,” said the goldsmith, rising to his feet. “Why did you do that?”

“Ah,” said Jakob. “We temper the metal with blood. An old trick from Austlind.”

“Wouldn’t chicken blood do just as well?”

“No doubt. I didn’t think you’d have any on hand.”

“But the lady—”

“The lady is fine,” Molly said.

He sat down again.

Jakob set the two bowls into the forge with tongs, then pumped air onto the coals with a bellows. When enough time had passed, he removed them again and set them on the table. Then he poured the molten gold into the bowl of mercury, raising up a cloud of smoke.

“Now stir it with this,” he said, handing her an iron rod. “Faster. Mix it really well.”

While she stirred, Jakob opened the box that held the cup. He made rather a ceremony of removing the silk wrappings, for the entertainment of the goldsmith, who was leaning forward now, curious.

“Where did you get that, young man?” he asked.

“I made it,” Jakob said, smiling at the man’s astonishment. “Now, I’ll need some aqua fortis, if you please, to prepare the cup for the gold. And a strip of chamois too.”

When the inside of the cup was ready, cleaned of oils and dirt, the surface bitten by the acid in the aqua fortis so the gilding would stick, Jakob squeezed the mercury out through the chamois, leaving mostly gold behind. It was thicker now, the consistency of butter, and yellower than before; but it didn’t really look like gold.

“Don’t worry,” he told Molly. “There’s still a lot of mercury in with the gold. We’ll burn it off in a minute. But for now we have a nice soft paste you can easily paint onto the cup.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I’ll show you.”

Molly worked with careful, patient strokes, smoothing out ridges, filling in any spots she’d missed. But it wasn’t perfect, and it didn’t look gold.

“Well done,” Jakob said, making a few minor touch-ups.

Once again the goldsmith interrupted. “Excuse me, young man, but I’m a bit concerned about your enamels. Might I suggest—?”

“It’s all right. I have a solution. See what you think.”

“What’s the matter with your enamels?” Molly asked.

“We have to heat the cup to drive off the mercury. It’ll turn to smoke and fly off into the air, leaving just the gold behind. Normally we’d put the cup right into the furnace, but we can’t do that because I’ve already done the enamels; and since they’re made of glass, they’ll melt. But we can work around it. It’ll take a lot longer, and we’ll sweat like a pair of lost souls in hell; but it’s more poetic, I think. You shall hold the fire, and I shall hold the cup.”

Jakob took a clean linen cloth and folded it, as though to make a bandage or a blindfold, and tied it around Molly’s mouth and nose to protect her from the fumes. Then he made a mask for himself. Finally he wrapped the base of the cup in many layers of wet rags to keep it cool and to protect the enamels.

“All right, cousin,” he said, “I want you to take those tongs and find yourself a nice, hot coal. Good. Now hold it inside the cup, but try not to touch the surface of the gold. It’s not easy, I know. I’ll take a turn when you get tired.”

It
wasn’t
easy, and it took hours. Their arms ached, the fumes stung their eyes, and the heat was almost unbearable. At one point the goldsmith offered to help, but Molly sent him away. And slowly, coal by coal, the mercury was driven off into the air, leaving gleaming gold behind.

“What do you think?” Jakob said as he wiped the cup clean. “How does it look?”

“It glows like the sun.”

“Pick it up.”

“I don’t need to. I already know the answer.”

“Pick it up anyway. I want to do this properly.”

“All right.” She stood and held the cup exactly as she’d seen him holding it in her visions, at about chest height, like an offering. “This chalice,” she said softly so only he could hear, “is not merely a beautiful work by a great artist; it is a true Loving Cup. It has the power to bind two souls together for life, to bless their children and their children’s children down through the generations. Thank you, Jakob.”

While Molly was wrapping the cup in its silken swaddling clothes, the goldsmith came over to Jakob. “Are you a licensed journeyman, lad? I believe you must be, though you look quite young.”

“I’ve served out my apprenticeship, but I left Austlind before I was able to prove my competence.”

“Would you like to work for me? I’ll see you through the approval process with the guild. It should be easy. You have only to show them that cup, and they’ll grant you journeyman status right away.”

“The cup is not available,” Molly said. “It’s a gift for the king.”

“For the king! Well, I imagine he’ll be very glad to own such a beautiful piece.”

“He will,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Then you’ll just have to make something new. I’ll pay you full journeyman’s wages, right from the beginning, even before you receive your papers. Watching you just now, I was most impressed.”

“He isn’t interested,” Molly said, setting the lid on the box.

“I don’t mean to offend, lady, but shouldn’t the young gentleman speak for himself?”

“I suppose. But I rather think he’ll be setting up his own shop. He’ll be coming into a lot of money soon. The king is famous for his gratitude.”

“A partnership, perhaps. We might consider—”

“Thank you, Master Goldsmith, for your generous offer. And thank you, Cousin, as well. But I’d rather wait a while before deciding what to do. I just might be going home.”

42
Once Again in the Garden

THE GARDEN WAS FADING
now. The roses and the lilies were over, and some of the beds were bare, the withered plants cut back to the ground. But the trees were bursting into autumn color. Red and yellow leaves covered the ground. As they walked the paths arm in arm again, Molly could feel the change. The world was shifting toward winter.

Nothing in nature ever stayed the same. Not even Alaric. Not even Molly.

“Stephen says you returned three days ago,” said the king. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I was up north hunting, if you can believe it, entertaining a pompous duke and a brace of arrogant lords.”

“Did you kill anything?”

“I did, much to the astonishment of my guests, who think me a pup and a weakling—though one could hardly grow up at King Reynard’s court, as I did, without learning how to use a bow.”

“It was a success, then?”

“No one pulled a dagger on me.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“No. I exaggerate. A little.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, thinking.

“Molly, I had a private interview with Lord Mayhew this morning. At his request.”

“I see.”

“Yes, I imagine you do—better than I, most likely. I should have been more forthright with you, about why I chose him to guide you into Austlind.”

“That’s all right. I figured it out.”

“You did?”

“It wasn’t that hard. How did the interview go?”

“I won’t reveal everything he said, though I doubt any of it would surprise you. He confessed things to me that he needn’t have, practically laid his head out on the chopping block and invited me to have the thing off. Pride, I suppose. He’s a man of honor, determined to take his licks when he feels they’re deserved.”

“And?”

“I forgave him, and he was grateful. He knelt, and kissed my hand, and swore his undying fealty. I rather think you had something to do with all that.”

“In a roundabout sort of way.”

“Then, once again I am in your debt. I don’t know how I would have managed if he’d gone on working against me like that, stirring up ill feeling. I might have had an insurrection on my hands—on top of my cousin Reynard nipping at my heels. Now I have a very useful ally where I once had an enemy. All thanks to you, Molly. I sometimes wonder if there’s anything you cannot do.”

“A bargain, Your Highness?”

“A bargain?”

“I’ll stop blaming my upbringing, such as it was, for my every rude remark if you’ll stop saying that I can work miracles.”

“But I truly believe you can.”

“And I truly believe that I was ill raised.”

“A bargain, then.” Alaric smiled as he said this, but the smile slipped quickly away.

He’d grown solemn since becoming king, but he was more solemn now than before. The weight of responsibility, which had come to him so tragically and while he was yet so young, was with him every hour of the day. It had snuffed out the bright joy that once had been a part of his nature. For never was there a more ardent king, determined to rule with wisdom and courage, no matter what it cost him. He looked older now, and exhausted.

“Stephen’s not really your valet, is he?” she said.

He stopped on the pathway, threw back his head, and laughed. “No, Molly, he is not. When my parents sent me to Austlind as a boy, they sent Stephen, too—as my ‘minder,’ to make sure I didn’t disgrace myself at Reynard’s court. In time he became more like a father. Now he is my close adviser and trusted friend. Acting as my valet gives him good cover. People discount him and speak freely when he’s around—just a servant, you know. It’s very convenient.”

“I can see that. I like him very much.”

“I thought you would. So—that box you’re carrying. I assume it holds the cup?”

“Yes. Why don’t we go over to that bench by the pond. It’ll be easier for you to open it if you’re sitting down.”

“All right. But tell me, is it the real thing? Made by your grandfather?”

“Yes and no. It’s the real thing, but my cousin Jakob made it. And don’t look so disappointed. It was made especially for you.”

They turned a corner and walked through the boxwood arch. Straight ahead was the pond, the stone fish still standing on its tail, still spouting water. They sat on the bench, and Molly handed Alaric the box.

“Jakob wishes me to tell you that he’s sorry the case is so plain. There wasn’t time to order a proper one.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll have a cabinetmaker build me a presentation case, with the arms of Cortova on it and Elizabetta’s initials.”

He took off the lid and started unwrapping the layers of silk.

“It’s very powerful, Alaric. The bond it forms can never be broken.”

He looked up at her. “What are you saying?”

“Just use it carefully, that’s all. Use it wisely.”

“That has always been my intention.”

“Good. Because once the princess sets her lips to the cup, there’s no turning back.”

“I will take that under advisement.”

The last layer of silk came off, and now the cup was revealed. He held it up to the sunlight, turning it in his hands. “Your cousin made this?”

“Yes. And he refused any payment. I believe a handsome reward might be appropriate.”

“Without question. This is astonishing work. I am overcome.”

“And while you’re at it—being generous, I mean—you might do something for Richard.”

“The ratcatcher who followed you home? Why?”

“Because you’re in my debt, and that’s how I wish to be paid.”

“Are you
serious
?”

“Yes.”

“All right, then. What does the fellow want?”

“Nothing at all. This is entirely my idea, and he doesn’t know I’m asking. Alaric, Richard is an amazing man, very generous and kind. A good storyteller, too. He entertained us wonderfully on the road during our return. But he told me one story in private that wasn’t comical at all—quite sad, in fact—about his childhood. And, well, it set me to thinking.”

“What?”

“I believe Richard would find it . . . very amusing, and deeply satisfying, if you were to make him a lord.”

The king laughed at that quite merrily. “Sir Richard, Lord Rattington?”

“Perhaps something a little more conventional would be better. Alaric, I
did
think twice before asking this of you. I know you’re in a delicate position just now, and you took a risk when you raised Tobias and me to high estate. But perhaps you could do it quietly, not call undue attention to it. And you needn’t give him lands or a house. He’ll be staying on with Tobias at his estate.”

“All right, then. Consider it done.”

She grinned. “You will make a good man very happy.”

“Then I’m glad it’s in my power to do so. Now listen, Molly. I’d like you to remain at court this time and not go back to Barcliffe Manor. I trust you will not mind.”

“Not in the least.”

“The others may go home, of course—Winifred and Tobias. And I have
nothing
against the boy, Molly. I just don’t need him.”

“I understand you, Alaric.”

He studied her for a moment, his head cocked at an angle. “What have they done with Molly, and who is this person they’ve put in her place?”

She laughed.

“Truly. You’ve grown up in—what has it been? Five, six weeks?”

“Horse flop! I’m just not my usual annoying self today. And I brought you the thing you wanted.”

“Oh, Molly—
please
don’t play a part with me.”

“I’m sorry. I did it out of habit. It’s . . . my armor.”

He was looking at her now straight on, with something on his face she’d never seen before. It was the most intimate moment they’d ever shared. Molly felt as if she’d taken in a deep breath and couldn’t let it out.

BOOK: The Cup and the Crown
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