Magnus looked down at Gregory, then grinned and hoisted the little boy to ride before him. Gregory squealed with delight and thumped his heels against Fess's sides. The great black beast seemed to sigh.
Cordelia followed all of them on her unicorn, singing softly, "A-hunting we will go, a-hunting we will go…"
Chapter 7
As they traveled along the forest path, Geoffrey glowered behind at Cordelia, swaying gently on the unicorn's back and singing happily as she plaited a wreath of flowers. The two fairies rode with her, chatting. But Magnus kept an eye on his younger brother, and was well aware that his scowl was deepening and his mood darkening. After a little while, he turned to Puck. "It hath been some few hours that we've been afoot, Robin. I do grow a-hungered."
Geoffrey looked up sharply. "Aye! Food, good Puck! I shall find it, and gladly! Let us rest and dine!"
Fess glanced up at the leafy canopy and calculated the time from the light. "The sun will rise soon. Stop and rest—and find whatever is about that may be edible."
Geoffrey whooped and disappeared into the leaves. They rustled for a second or two; then none but the songbirds knew he existed—and even they might not have been sure.
Cordelia slid down from the unicorn's back. "Eh! What berries may I find nearby, good Summer?"
"Raspberries, mayhap. Come, and I shall show thee!"
Gregory sat down, leaned back against a tree. In three breaths, his eyes closed and his head nodded forward.
Puck smiled. "I had thought as much. 'Twas little sleep thou hadst this night past."
"Naetheless, Geoffrey will not wish to nap," Magnus warned.
Puck shrugged impatiently. "He never doth; he fears some part of life will pass him by, the whiles he sleeps. Even so, he hath need of slumber."
"Aye—he doth grow sullen. I think that he doth aim this secret anger at Cordelia's unicorn."
Fess agreed. "Yes. Because it allows her to ride, but will not let him near."
"That could breed trouble," Magnus mused.
Puck shot him a keen glance. "Thou wilt be a wise captain some day, youngling. 'Tis even as thou sayest—thou must needs find some way to quench his envy, or he'll wreak havoc."
"'Tis as I've thought," Magnus admitted, "yet I can see no way to it. The unicorn will not abide him near. What can I do?"
"Thou hast not seen it, then?" Puck grinned. "Seek within the terms of the situation, lad. The unicorn will not allow him near—yet doth it bear him ill?"
"Nay," Magnus said slowly, "not while he doth keep his distance."
Puck nodded, waiting.
"So," Magnus mused, "I must find some way for the beast to pay him heed, though he cometh not nigh."
Puck broke into a broad grin. "Thou hast the right of it. Now thou hast but to find the way."
Magnus found it as they finished breakfast.
As they ate, he sat there, looking about him, trying to find something to pull Geoffrey out of his black jealousy. The younger boy was a bit better, now that Cordelia had climbed down off her high horse long enough to gather a quart of berries and join them for roast partridge; but Magnus knew it would be just as bad, just as quickly, when she mounted again, and Geoffrey had to watch her riding. He could fly, of course, or ride Fess, but that was boring now. Riding a unicorn was something new.
Magnus eyed the unicorn, standing thirty-feet away, nibbling at some leaves. Then, as he turned back to his brothers and sister, his gaze fell on the wreaths Cordelia had plaited, resting on her head and on those of the fairies. The idea hit, and Magnus slowly grinned. "Cordelia—wilt thou lend me thy wreath?"
The girl looked up warily. "What wouldst thou do with it?"
"Naught but to play a game."
Cordelia eyed him, not trusting the simplicity of his claim —but she couldn't see anything wrong with it, so she held out the stack of wreaths with a glare.
Magnus caught them up and, with a gleeful whoop, flipped one sailing toward the unicorn.
She looked up, startled, poised to flee—and saw the wreath skimming through the air toward her. She whinnied,
ducked to aim her horn, and caught the flower loop with a toss of her head.
"Nay!" Cordelia cried, leaping to her feet. " 'Tis not fair!"
But Magnus was flipping wreaths to Geoffrey and Gregory, and the unicorn was swinging her head around in a circle, making the wreath spin around her horn, then suddenly ducked, and the flower ring sped back toward Magnus. He caught it with a yelp of delight. "I had not thought she could toss back to me!"
"Play with me, too!" Gregory cried, and spun his wreath through the air toward the unicorn.
"Nay, 'tis my turn!" Geoffrey insisted, and his wreath went flying, too.
Gregory's ring flew wide; he was a little short on motor development, but the unicorn dashed to the left and caught it anyway. Then, with a leap, she was back where she had been, to catch Geoffrey's wreath and rear up, pawing the air with a triumphant whinny.
"No! Nay, now! Give back my wreaths!" Cordelia shouted.
"Peace, lass," Puck counseled. "They do but play, and will give thee back thy wreaths when they are done."
"But they will have torn them to shreds!"
"And if they do, what of it? Thou mayest weave more quite easily."
"Oh, thou dost not comprehend, Robin! Ooh! They make me so angered!"
"Aye, certes," Puck said softly. "Why, 'tis thy unicorn, is't not?"
"Aye! How dare they play with her!"
"Why dost thou not join also?" Puck asked. "If she can play with three, she can most certainly play with four."
"But they have no right to play with her at all! She is mine!"
"Nay, now. There, I say nay." Puck shook his head. "She is a wild and free thing, child, and though she may befriend thee, that doth not give thee ownership over her. Never think it, for if she doth feel constrained, she will flee from thee."
Cordelia was silent, glaring at her brothers, growing angrier and angrier at their whoops of glee.
"She doth prance to catch each ring," Summer piped up, "and her eyes sparkle. She whinnies with delight. Nay, if I mistake me not, this unicorn doth rejoice to play at ring-toss
thus—so long as thy brothers keep their distance."
Cordelia's glower lessened a bit.
"You," Fess pointed out, "are the only one who can go close to the beast. Why not, therefore, let your brothers have what little pleasure she'll permit them?"
"'Twould be most generous of thee to allow it," Summer agreed.
Cordelia's glower was almost gone now.
"Show them thou dost grudge them not their sport," Fall urged.
"Why, how may I do that?"
"Play," the fairy answered.
Cordelia stood, wavering.
"What!" Kelly cried. "Will ye have them gaming with yer unicorn, while ye yerself do not?"
Cordelia's lips firmed with decision. She caught up a handful of flowers.
"I have one plaited for thee." Summer thrust a wreath into her hand.
"I thank thee, good Summer!" Cordelia dashed forward, tossing her ring backhanded toward the unicorn. The silver animal saw, and caught it with a neigh of delight, then sent it spinning back.
Summer heaved a sigh of relief.
"Aye," Puck agreed. "'Twas a near thing, that—but we have them all a-play together."
"And the lass will not turn away from the unicorn in angered jealousy." Fall beamed.
"A steaming kettle of nonsense," Kelly muttered. "Wherefore must these mortals be so obstinate?" Nonetheless, he, like the other three, gazed at the playing children with a smile of satisfaction. In fact, they were so taken with the sight that they didn't notice the four brawny men slipping from tree trunk to tree trunk all around the clearing, coming closer and closer to the children.
They drifted up as silently as the wind in the brush, till they stood just behind the first rank of trees—burly men in livery, with steel caps and ring-mail jerkins, watching the children, poised to spring.