"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.
Cordelia decided to assert her position as resident unicorn-friend, and skipped up toward her, holding up her ring of flowers. "Here, O Silver One! I shall not hurl this, but give it thee!"
The nearest man leaped out, sprinting toward her.
Just then, Geoffrey tossed a wreath a little too far to the side. The ungenerous might have thought he intended to hit Cordelia with it.
But the unicorn didn't. It spun and leaped, tossing its head to catch the ring on its horn.
The soldier gave a shout of triumph as he pounced on Cordelia.
The unicorn's horn slashed through his jerkin. Blood welled out of his arm. The man shrank back with a bleat of terror, pale and trembling at such a close brush with death.
"Footpad!" Geoffrey howled in anger. "A vile villain come to seize our sister! Brothers, rend him!"
But the trees and bushes all around them erupted, armed men boiling out of them with blood-curdling battle cries, leaping toward the children and catching them up with yells of triumph. Gregory squalled, and Cordelia shrieked with rage. But Geoffrey clamped his jaw shut, narrowed his eyes for better aim, and sent his wreath sailing right into the face of Cordelia's captor.
The soldier was startled; his hold loosened, and Cordelia twisted free.
Magnus's wreath skimmed into the face of Gregory's cap-tor. It was a rose wreath, with thorns. The man bellowed in pain, and dropped Gregory, who shot up like a rocket and disappeared into the leaves above. Geoffrey's captor saw and blanched, just before Cordelia's wreath struck him on the brow. Geoffrey shot away from him to land beside Cordelia. "Thou hadst no need to aid! I would have had him kneeling in an instant!"
"Ever the mannerly gentleman, thou," she scoffed.
The last soldier tightened his hold on Magnus. "Thy wreaths shall avail thee naught—I shall not loose my hold!"
Magnus glanced down at the man's feet. A creeper nearby unwound itself from the base of a sapling and writhed over to the soldier, winding up around his mailed leg, then yanking hard. He shouted a startled oath, lurching back, then caught his balance—but for a moment, his hands loosened, and Magnus sprang free.
The first soldier shouted in anger and leaped at Cordelia again.
The unicorn sprang forward, head down, horn stabbing. The man leaped aside with a shout of fear, and the silver horn
scored a trail of blood across his cheek. He dodged back, drawing his sword; but the unicorn danced before him, parrying his lunges and thrusting at him, driving him back.
"Wouldst thou hurt her then?" Cordelia cried. "Vile wretch! Have at thee!" His sword wrenched itself out of his hand and flipped about to dance in front of his face. He paled and backed away, until he bumped into a tree trunk and could go no further. Nearby, three more soldiers fell under the hooves of the great black horse.
Another soldier bellowed and lunged at Geoffrey. The lad disappeared with a bang and reappeared a second later behind the soldier, jamming a knee against the back of his neck and an arm across his throat. The soldier turned purple, gargling and clawing at Geoffrey's arm, then yanked and bowed, sending the boy tumbling through the air. He didn't land, of course—he only soared up higher, yanking a rotten fruit from a tree and hurling it down at the soldier as he cried, "Cordelia! Mount and ride! We may not retreat whiles thou dost remain!"
"Wherefore retreat?" she retorted. "Let us stay and knock them senseless!"
"For once, he hath the right of it." Puck stood by her knee. "Thou mayest prevail—or they may take thee unawares, one by one, and capture thee all. Flee, damsel! Or dost thou wait to see one hurl a spear through thy unicorn?"
Cordelia gasped in horror and whirled to leap onto the unicorn's back. "Quickly, my sweet! Leave these swinish men far behind!"
The unicorn reared, whinnying, then leaped out and sprang into a gallop, dodging away between the trees so lithely that she seemed to dart through their trunks.
"One hath escaped, Auncient!" a soldier cried.
"We shall follow and find!" the biggest soldier answered. "Seize these!"
" 'Tis not likely," Geoffrey retorted, and more rotten fruit came plunging off the tree. The soldiers leaped aside, but the fruits veered to follow them, and landed in their faces with a gooey sound.
"Be off, while they're blinded!" Puck cried. "Retreat, lads! Avoid!"