She tore a strip from her petticoat and washed the scratch with water from a little spring. "We'll just let that dry, then I'll wrap it nicely in a bandage and you'll be as frisky as ever."
"Glyneth, find my talisman, please! It's something which must not be put off. Suppose a mouse drags it away?"
"It would become the bravest of mice! The cats and owls would turn tail and flee." She patted Dhrun's cheek. "But I'll find it now...
It must have gone in this direction." She dropped to her hands and knees, and looked here and there. Almost at once she saw the amulet. As luck would have it, the cabochon had fallen hard; against a stone and had shattered into a dozen pieces.
"Do you see it?" asked Dhrun anxiously.
"I think it's in this clump of grass." Glyneth found a small smooth pebble and pressed it into the setting. With the edge of a larger stone, she pushed down the flange, so as to secure the pebble in place. "Here it is in the grass! Let me fix the chain."
She bent the twisted link back into alignment and hung the amulet around Dhrun's neck, to his great relief. "There you are, as good as new."
The two breakfasted on plums and continued along beside the river.
The forest straggled out to become a parkland of copses separated by meadows of long grasses waving in the wind. They came upon a deserted hut, shelter for those herdsmen who dared forage their flocks so close to the wolves, griswolds and bears of the forest.
Another mile, and another, and they came to a pleasant two-story stone cottage, with flower boxes under the upper windows. A stone fence surrounded a garden of forget-me-not wallflower, pansies and angel's pincushion. A pair of chimneys at either gable supported chimney pots high above the fresh clean thatch. Further along the road could be seen a village of gray stone cottages huddled in a swale. A crone in black gown and white apron weeded the garden.
She paused to watch Dhrun and Glyneth approach, then gave her head a shake and returned to work.
As Glyneth and Dhrun neared the gate a plump and pretty woman of mature years stepped out upon the little porch. "Well then, children, what are you doing so far from home?"
Glyneth answered: "I'm afraid, mistress, that we're vagabonds. We have neither home nor family."
In surprise the woman looked back up the way the two had come.
"But this road leads nowhere!"
"We've just come through the Forest of Tantrevalles."
"Then you bear charmed lives! What are your names? You may call me Dame Melissa."
"I am Glyneth and this is Dhrun. The fairies sent bees into his eyes and now he can't see."
"Ah! A pity! They are often cruel! Come here, Dhrun, let me see your eyes."
Dhrun stepped forward and Dame Melissa studied the concentric rings of gold and amber. "I know one or two trifles of magic, but not so much as a true witch, and I can do nothing for you."
"Perhaps you would sell us a bite of bread and cheese," Glyneth suggested. "We've eaten only plums today and yesterday."
"Of course, and you need not think of payment. Didas? Where are you? We have a pair of hungry children here! Bring milk and butter and cheese from the dairy. Come in, dears. Go back to the kitchen and I think we can find something nice."
When Dhrun and Glyneth had seated themselves at the scrubbed wooden table, Dame Melissa served them first bread and a rich soup of mutton and barley, then a tasty dish of chicken cooked with saffron and walnuts, and finally cheese and juicy green grapes.
Dame Melissa sat to the side sipping a tea brewed from the leaves of lemon verbena and smiled to watch them eat. "I see that you are both healthy young persons," she said. "Are you brother and sister?"
"It amounts to that," said Glyneth. "But in truth we're not related. We've both suffered troubles and we think ourselves lucky to be together, since neither of us has anyone else."
Dame Melissa said soothingly: "You're now in Far Dahaut, out of the dreadful forest, and I'm sure things will go better for you."
"I hope so. We can't thank you enough for the wonderful dinner, but we mustn't intrude upon you. If you'll excuse us, we'll be on our way."
"Whyever so soon? It's afternoon. I'm sure you're tired. There's a nice room for Glyneth just above, and a good bed in the garret for Dhrun. You shall have a supper of bread and milk and a sweet-cake or two, then you may eat apples before the fire and tell me your adventures. Then tomorrow, when you're well rested, you'll be on your way."
Glyneth hesitated and looked at Dhrun.
"Do stay," pleaded Dame Melissa. "Sometimes it's lonely here with no one but crotchety old Didas."
"I don't mind," said Dhrun. "Perhaps you can tell us where to find a powerful magician, to draw the bees from my eyes."
"I'll give the matter thought, and I'll ask Didas as well; she knows a bit of everything."
Glyneth sighed. "I'm afraid you'll spoil us. Vagabonds are not supposed to trouble over good food and soft beds."
"Just one night, then a good breakfast, and you can be on your way."
"Then we thank you again for your kindness."
"Not at all. It gives me pleasure to see such pretty children enjoying my house. I ask only that you do not molest Dame Didas.
She is very old, and a trifle crabbed—even, I am sorry to say, a bit eery. But if you leave her be, she will not trouble you."
"Naturally, we will treat her with all politeness."
"Thank you, my dear. Now, why do you not go outside and enjoy the flower garden until supper time?"
"Thank you, Dame Melissa."
The two went out into the garden, where Glyneth led Dhrun from flower to flower, that he might find pleasure in the fragrance.
After an hour of going from plant to plant, sniffing and smelling, Dhrun became bored and stretched out on a patch of lawn, to doze in the sunshine, while Glyneth went to puzzle out the mystery of a sun dial.
Someone gestured from the side of the cottage; looking around, Glyneth saw Dame Didas, who instantly signaled her first to caution and silence, then beckoned her to come.
Glyneth slowly approached Dame Didas, in a fever of impatience, signaled her to haste. Glyneth moved forward more quickly.
Dame Didas asked, "What did Dame Melissa tell you about me?"
Glyneth hesitated, then spoke out bravely. "She said not to bother you; that you were very old and often irritable, or even a little, well, unpredictable."
Dame Didas gave a dry chuckle. "As for that, you'll have a chance to judge for yourself. In the meanwhile—now heed me, girl, heed me!—drink no milk with your supper. I will call to Dame Melissa; while she is distracted pour the milk into the sink, then pretend to have finished. After supper say that you are very tired and would like to go to bed. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Dame Didas."
"Disregard me to your peril! Tonight, when the house is quiet, and Dame Melissa has gone to her workroom, I'll explain. Will you heed me?"
"Yes, Dame Didas. If I may say so, you seem neither crabbed nor eery."
"That's a good girl. Until tonight then. Now I must hurry back to the weeds; they grow as fast as I'm able to pull them."
The afternoon passed. At sunset Dame Melissa called them in to supper. On the kitchen table she placed a fresh crusty loaf, butter and a dish of pickled mushrooms. She had already poured mugs of milk for both Glyneth and Dhrun; there was also a milk jug if they wanted more.
"Sit down, children," said Dame Melissa. "Are your hands clean?
Good. Eat as much as you wish; and drink your milk. It is fresh and good."
"Thank you, Dame Melissa."
From the drawing room came the voice of Dame Didas. "Melissa, come at once! I want a word with you!"
"Later, Didas, later!" But Melissa rose to her feet and walked to the doorway; instantly Glyneth poured out the milk from both mugs.
She whispered to Dhrun: "Pretend to drink from the empty mug."
When Dame Melissa returned, both Glyneth and Dhrun were apparently in the act of draining the milk in their mugs.
Dame Melissa said nothing, but turned away and paid no more heed to them.