regions are going to be very happy, now that we've found Adamo and got rid of the Razan
plague!"
Ben agreed mentally. "Aye, Ned, the mission is completed now. It makes me sad to think we'll
have to move on, but we could not afford to be seen here years from now, with everyone
growing older and us forever the same age."
Dominic looked at his friend's clouded blue eyes. "What's the matter, Ben? You look sad all
of a sudden."
Ben had no chance to answer. Ned knocked him flat in the snow. Sprawling on the boy's
chest, the black Labrador licked Ben's face furiously as he berated him mentally. "Haha, O
mournful moping master, the clever Ned banishes all miseries. I'll soon lick a smile back on
your face!"
Arnela and Dominic burst out laughing at the sight of Ben trying to wrestle Ned off and
pleading with him. "Yurgh! Gerroff, y'great sloppy hound! Look, I'm smiling, I'm happy! Let
me up, please!"
Arnela lifted the dog from her friend. "What's all this about?"
Ben struggled upright, dusting the snow from himself. "Dominic started it, marm. Ned was
just trying to put a smile on my face. Back, Ned, back! See, I'm happy again!"
The big woman tucked Ned under her arm as though he were a goat, and she set off back to
the cave. "Come on, you two. Let's see how our Adamo is looking now."
Karay was sitting outside the cave, enjoying the morning sun with Adamo. She waved as they
came scrunching through the snow. "Just take a peep at this handsome fellow!"
The young man's cheeks coloured slightly. He gave a shy smile. Karay had given Adamo a
wash, shave and haircut.
Arnela gasped. "Surely this isn't the scraggy old bear we rescued from the Razan? He's got
skin like a peach, and look at the length of those eyelashes. Any maiden would give a bag of
gold to have eyelashes like that. Karay, I think you'd better hide Adamo from the ladies of
Veron when he gets back!"
The girl took Adamo's wide, powerful hand in hers. "I'll fight them if they even glance his
way! But he's not quite ready for public appearances yet. We haven't any decent clothing to fit
him! He's a big fellow, almost taller than you, Arnela, and broader across the shoulders.
Underneath that cloak of yours, which I borrowed for him, Adamo still has on the bearskin.
So he's still half man, half bear, eh, friend?"
Ben had only seen Adamo bent and shuffling in his role as a bear. He was taken aback when
the young man stood up straight. Karay was right: Adamo was a big fellow. He stayed solemn
for a moment, his soft brown eyes looking from one of them to the other. Then he gave an
enormous grin and spread both arms wide. The cloak parted, revealing him clad in the bear
hide from foot to neck. He danced comically to and fro, kicking up the wide, floppy pads that
encased his feet and waving his fur-coated arms round and round. Ned's delighted barks
mingled with the helpless laughter of the onlookers. Adamo performed an awkward bow and
said a single word, though he had difficulty in getting it out. "F ... frrr ... free!"
28
COMTE VINCENTE BREGON OF VERON SAT IN his gazebo at the centre of his beautiful
walled garden. Though it was mid-afternoon, he was still clad in his nightshirt and dressing
gown. He looked old and haggard. A small garden beetle trundled slowly over his sandalled
foot, a magpie was strutting boldly about on the open windowsill. They were ignored by the
old man, who stared unhappily at the fading blooms bordering the gravel path. His mind was
elsewhere. The magpie spotted the beetle. It was about to descend on the insect and snatch i
when it was disturbed by footsteps. The bird flew off, giving the beetle an unknowing
extension to its short life.
Mathilde, the equally old but energetic cook, bustled into the gazebo, sniffing irately as she
placed a tray of food and drink on an ornamental table beside her master. "Still sitting here
like a scarecrow, eh?"
Wiping the sleeve of his gown across both eyes, the comte replied wearily, "Go away and
leave me alone, woman."
However, Mathilde was not about to go away. She persisted, "Can ye hear the market fair
outside? I can. Why don't you put on some decent clothing and get out there? 'Twill do you
good. Summer's almost gone, and you sit out here from dawn to dusk, day after day, like
some old cracked statue."
He sighed, staring down at the beetle, which was laboriously crawling from his big toenail to
the floor. "Give your tongue a rest, Mathilde. 'Tis my own business how I conduct my life.
Go back to your kitchens."
Mathilde stubbornly tapped the tray and continued her tirade. "You'll become an old skeleton,
eat something! You never touched the nice breakfast I served you this morning, so I've
brought you chicken broth with barley and leeks. Look, fresh bread, cream cheese and a glass
of milk laced with brandy. Taste it, that's all I ask, just take a little bit."
The comte turned his lined face from her stern gaze. "Take it away, I'm not hungry. Please,
give it to one of the servants. I have no appetite for food or drink."
The faithful Mathilde knelt by his side, her voice softening. "What is it, Vincente, what ails
you?"
Again he wiped the sleeve across his eyes. "I'm an old fool—worse, an unthinking old fool.
On a silly impulse I sent three young people and a dog to their deaths!"
Mathilde stood up brusquely, her attitude hardening. "Oh, 'tis that again, is it? Well, let me tell
you, sir, 'twas not your doing—they volunteered themselves to go. Hmph! Gypsies and
vagabonds, little wonder they never came back. If you ask me, they've probably joined up with
the Razan. They're creatures of a kind, all of them!"
The comte's eyes flared briefly, his voice sharpening as he pointed a finger toward the big
house. "Go, you bad-mouthed old fishwife. Go!"
She bustled off in a huff, muttering aloud, "Well, I've done my duty to the Bregons. Soon
we'll have a dead comte on our hands, one who starved himself into his grave. What'll become
of Veron then, eh? Those Razan'll march straight in and take over the entire place. Mark my
words!"
The comte spoke, not so much to answer her, merely ruminating to himself. "Why does God
choose fools to rule? I was deluding myself that Adamo would be still alive after all these
years. That pretty young girl, those good young boys and their dog, their lives are lost now, all
because of a stupid old man's desires. Oh Lord, forgive me for what I've done!"
Garath, the comte's blacksmith and stable master, trudged up the three steps into the gazebo.
Placing a strong arm under the older man's elbow, he gently eased him into a standing
position. "Time for you to go inside now, sir. Shall I send someone out to bring your food in
also? That soup still looks hot, you may fancy it later."
Shaking his head, the comte allowed himself to be led off. "Do what you wish with the food.
Take me to my bedchamber, Garath, I feel tired."
It was the last day of the market fair, and a few people were leaving early owing to the long
journey home they would have to take. Seated in a two-wheeled cart drawn by a lumbering
ox, a farmer, together with his wife and teenage daughter, made their way to the gate in
Veron's walls. The cart was held up at the gateway. It could not proceed because of an
argument that was going on between two fresh-faced, newly appointed guards and five other