Jennifer shrank from him, closer against Rupert. The prince had gone impassive. “That’s heathendom!” she said, aghast. “They’d lure thy soul to hell.”
“Zome would, no doubt; but than, zome humans would. What harm can be in common usages what maybe zailed with Noah in tha Ark, when men an’ beasts an’ weather war as one? If’tis allowed to zet a bowl o’ milk for your graymalkin sine’a catches mice, what’s wrong with showin’ kindness to a harmless hobgoblin what will work or ward a bit? As for those ones what dwell apart from men—”
Rupert stirred. “Thou’st met them thine own self?”
“Well, zeldom, loard. But zome few times I have, beneath tha stars, when I war… questin’; for my family has ever shown their kind its due respect. We never cut a tree nor kill a beast without first barin’ head an’ drawin’ cross—”
Jennifer was doubly shocked. Will gave her an apologetic smile. “—thic zort o’ thing, to them what share tha land,” he finished. To Rupert: “I’d maybe chat awhile, or swap a cup—their wild an’ spicy mead for plain brown yale—or watch’em dancin’ lovely in a ring to music zeemed like played upon my heart. I never zinned with’em… own I’d liaked it, but I’m too hoamely for a Faerie lass.… Have I done ill in this, my loard?”
“Say on,” Rupert told him quietly. “Well, skulkin’ hereawa in meager hoape o’ doin’ aught to help you or tha King, an’ yet not willin’ just to quit, go hoame, be shut for aye inzide tha dismal stall o’ Roundhead ways—an’ Christ, be preached at, too!—I came to theeazam woods in zearch o’ hares. There zomeone found me, an’ we spoake an’ spoake until tha daybreak flogged tha stars away; an’ afterward again by night—Your Highness, that’s how I got tha courage to strive on; that’s how I learned our Mis’ess Jennifer might have a mind to help in your escape.” (She covered her face.) “An’, short to zay, we hammered out a plan.”
Will rose. “Well, loard, I gave my handshake in return, to promise you would come an’ hear them out. Tha’ will not foa’ce you—nay, tha’ couldn’t that—but honestly, I zee no other way than takin’ what small help tha’ve got to give. Pray, will you hark to them who’d fain be friends?”
Rupert stood too. Jennifer scrambled up, clinging to his arm. The prince’s countenance was impassive, his tone steady: “I will.”
“Oh, nay!” the girl pleaded in tears. “ ’Tis peril of our souls.”
Rupert took both her shoulders, looked into her eyes, and said gently: “Not so. The Puritans have lied to thee. I’ve read, if thou’st not, the Historian. Not only dwellers in antiquity had good, and little ill, at Faerie hands, but wise and Christian men in modern times. Aye, even magic arts of certain kinds are lawful if they’re used with right intent. Recall the neighbors that thou knew’st in Cornwall. Like Will’s, did they not follow olden ways?” (She nodded dumbly.) “And dost thou think them damned on that account?” (Slowly, she shook her head.) “Then do not now.” (She fought forth a smile for him.) “Good lass! What heart thou hast!”
He released her and turned to the other man. It exploded from him: “Go summon, as thou wilt, thy miracle.”
“Thy free consent has served to call us here.” That singing tone made Rupert whirl about. Two stood before the stone. Tall they were, uncannily beautiful of form and ivory features. Their eyes shone as if by inner moonlight. The outer radiance sparkled on high crowns of curious shape, on the glitter of the male tunic, the sheen of the female gown. Above them, behind them, flickering around their pale hair, danced and glowed small winged shapes.
At their feet squatted one more solid, broad and thick-muscled—though standing upright he would scarcely have reached Rupert’s belt buckle. His head was round, snub-nosed, pointy-eared, shaggy; eyes glinted over a raffish grin. He wore leather and leaves.
Will louted low and stepped back. Jennifer joined him within the shadows. Her hands were folded, her lips moved silently. Rupert trod forward. He bent his neck the least bit, for the least moment, then met the unhuman gazes and said into the hush: “I think I do address King Oberon.”
“Thou dost,” the male answered.
The man bowed to the female. “Then likewise Queen Titania,” he said.
“Be welcome to our Half-World kingdom, Prince,” went the melody of her voice.
“I thank your Majesties.” Rupert hesitated. “The rightful title? You know that presently I serve King Charles, and save that he unbind me from mine oath, I’ll hold me free of others—under God.”
The royal pair neither fled nor flinched at the Name. Jennifer began to ease. Will saw, and smiled at her.
They looked back to the glade, where only Rupert and the horses seemed quite real.
“Thou seest we pass the test,” boomed the dwarfish one. “Wouldst try us more? Why, then I’ll list for thee the saints and angels. Their catalogue rolls trippingly—Walburga, Knut, Swithin, Cuthbbert, Cunegonde, Matilda, Hieronymus, Methodius, Claude, Gall—”
“Be silent, Puck,” Oberon commanded. “Show more solemnity.” To Rupert: “Forgive him, Prince. Unaging Faerie folk too oft blow rootless on the winds of time, and ripen not to wisdom like you mortals.”
“You flatter men too much, your Majesty,” Rupert said.
Titania’s hand fluttered white. “Enough!” she begged. “The cruel dawn comes on apace, when we’ll be powerless and thou pursued. Make haste!”
Oberon nodded; the plumes swayed and shimmered on his crown. “Indeed. But first I’d best explain to thee, Prince Rupert, why we lend our aid in this thy mortal quarrel. It is ours. We elves are spirits of the living world, the haunters of its virgin loneliness, the guardians, helpers, healers of all things in nature, whence we draw our nourishment.”
“You’re sometimes tricksy, sometimes terrible,” the man said.
“Why, so are earth and sea and sky and fire. Were there no wolves and foxes in the woods, the deer and conies soon would gnaw them bare.” Oberon paused before adding bleakly: “Unless man use his poisons, guns, and snares. That can bring order of a graveyard sort, until unpastured rankness chokes and burns.
Best he show reverence for Mother Earth. The Old Ways help to keep him true in it, wherefore they win the blessing of the elves.”
“As long as this leads not to heathendom—”
“It need not. We’ve seen peoples and their faiths past counting come and come and go and go. From reindeer hunters in an age of stone to warriors in brazen chariots, we were familiars of the seed of Adam.
When iron came, it was more difficult, for that’s a greedy fang against the wilds, and bears a cold and sullen force within which sears our kind if we do merely touch. But after restless years came balancing. The yeomen wanted luck upon their fields, and love and sons and grandsons in their homes, and warding off of demon, ghost, or witch—and in exchange for this gave us our due.” Titania observed softly: “If fewer forests, we know richer fields; and in a maiden’s love or baby’s laugh, the wonder wells as from a secret spring.”
“The Christian faith, whatever else it changed, made small discord within that harmony,” Oberon went on. “As long as no one worshipped us as gods—a star-cold honor we have never sought—the priests did not deny our right to be, and let the people dwell at peace with us and with the land. Meanwhile, their bells rang sweet.”