Awhile Ariel followed. When he returned, Caliban had not moved on the beach. “What, art thou petrified?” the flyer asked. His japery trembled.
“She kissed me,” the monster whispered.
“Aye. Her sweetness breathes across the whole horizon.”
“Thou dost not understand. She kissed me. Me.” Caliban shook mane and shoulders. “She did. She does.
She will. It cannot die until I do. What need I more than this? How wonderful the world is, Ariel.”
“Ah, well, I’m glad for thee.” The sprite clapped him on the back. “Come to thy rest. I’ll sing thee lullabies of Jennifer.”
Ariel flitting, Caliban trudging, they went on into the woods.
It scudded before a breeze which was part of the enchantment. Nonetheless a hush dwelt in heaven, only deepened by a low thrum in the lines. This far aloft, air was so keen that breath smoked white as the few drifting clouds. Earth rolled vast and vague beneath. Forward, aft, overhead, and right, a purple-black ocean was crowded with stars; to left went the westering moon. Radiance ran down the sail until it lapped the gunwales.
Jennifer had the helm. Rupert stood at a rail, peering over. Will sat in the middle of the mid-most thwart, holding on. The prince pointed to a thread which twisted and gleamed below. “There’s the Dordogne,” he said. His voice was nearly lost in immensity. “We’ll raise our goal ere dawn.”
“How canst thou tell?” the other man inquired.
“I’ve pored o’er many maps. How strange to see the lands themselves like that. They have no borders…”
“Me, I’ll buss tha swile, although it be a barn-yard where we zettle.” Will flickered an uneasy glance. “No disrespect to any Powers, o’ coua’se. But zea or sky, this messin’ around in boats just ben’t for me. Oh, nothin’ liake it, true! Tha which I thank God’s goodness for, amen.”
“When we are down—unarmored, since the spell can scarcely lift more iron than our blades—maybe thou’lt think thou didst enjoy this ride.” Rupert gave a sardonic chuckle. “We chatter thus, while miracles go on.
Perhaps the saints can pass eternity enrapt in solemn bliss; but we are mortal.”
He stepped astern and lowered himself beside Jennifer. “Shall I take o’er thy watch?” he asked. “How dost thou fare?”
“Most marvelously, since it is with thee.” She gave him a smile which, in the strong subtlety of bone and flesh, under huge eyes and moon-frosted hair, was elven as Ariel’s. Gesturing out: “And many of mine oldest friends are here. The Wains are homeward bound the same as us; to ringing of the Lyre, the Swan takes wing across a river clangorous with light; near Pegasus, the Princess waits her hero; and from the sunrise quadrant comes Orion, who will bestride the heavens—art thou he?”
Rupert was still before he answered harshly: “Nay, I’m the Scorpion. Thou canst not see where I am on my peril-poisoned path. How could I bring thee… even for my King?”
“I’m frankly tired of hearing I’m too fine!” she flared. At once she grinned. “Though true it is, thou’st ground me down between the millstones of thy duty and thy conscience. When we are wed—Oh, grant me this last flight, for afterward the blueness of new seas for me will only lie in children’s eyes, and melodies from Faerie in their mirth, and high adventure in their growing tall—When we are wed, the foremost task for me will be to tease thy moodiness from thee.”
He hugged her to him. His voice trembled. “Thou’rt far too good for me. But so’s the sun. God gives with spendthrift hand. His will be done.”
The boat flew on through moonlight.
Grass was almost as dark as trees, under clouds blown off a rapidly nearing storm-wall. Wind droned, the first-flung raindrops stung, like cold hornets. Stars had been swallowed, but a last few lunar beams touched the boat. It staggered down from the sky, thumped, and lay. The sail flapped wild.
Rupert’s call tore across that noise: “Art thou hurt, Jennifer?”
“Nay, save… save for rattled teeth,” she answered shakily.
“I had to land fast.” He groped to help her out; the gloom thickened each second. “Else we’d been trapped above the overcast, and the moon that bears us is going down.”
“Where be we?” came Will’s voice.
“South of Glastonbury,” Rupert told him. “I can’t say closer.”
“Who can, in this weather? Blacker’n tha Devil’s gut—there went tha moon—heare comes tha rain.
Welcome hoame to England.”
“Can we find shelter?” asked the girl as sluices opened above her.
“Not by stumbling blind,” Rupert replied through a wet roar. They could barely see the shadow-form of him point. “Yonder’s north, our direction. We’ll walk cross-country till we strike a road bound the same way.
There ought to be houses near it, though we’d better take care who’s inside.”
“Friends to us, if I know my Somerset folk,” Will assured him.
“Aye, but have the victors begun quartering troops on them? Come, march.”
“Thou’rt riaght, as always. Damnable bad habit o’ thiane, Rupert, bein’ riaght. For how I wish I could zee tha farmer hereawa, when’a fiands a zailboat in his pasture!”
The storm had ended soon after sunrise. Wind kept on, sharp and shrill from the north, driving a smoke of scud beneath a low iron-hued heaven. Rupert, Jennifer, and Will leaned into it, heads down, hands mottled blue, as they tramped along the mud. Water from their garments fell into ruffled puddles. On either side of them ran a hedge, and fields beyond it flat, brown or gray with autumn, the occasional trees begun to go sere and let leaves be whipped off their boughs. A flight of rooks went by, grating forth lamentations.
“A bitter, early zeason,” Will said at last. His nose was the sole spot of brightness in the landscape, save for the drip from it. “I doan’t recall no worse.”
“Was ever year more weird than this?” Jennifer replied. She attempted a smile. “See, here’s Prospero’s wand my walking staff.”
“An’ his book weights down tha bottom o’ my scrip, underneath food from his island.” Will touched a bag slung around his shoulder. “Anybody caere for a bite? Nay? Well, I too’ud swap theeazam pears an’ pomp-granites for a zingle bowl o’ hot oatmeal topped wi’ cream an’ honey; an’ this zaber o miane’ud liefer carve a Cheddar cheese than a trail to glory.”
“Or the freedom and safety of thy household?” Rupert rapped.
Will’s lips drew thin. “Pray doan’t bespeak thic, zir. It be hard enough for me aloane to keep myzelf from frettin’ thus.’Fear not,’ I tell me, though it doan’t do no good for long; fear not for wife an’ kids,’ I zays,’only for thine own hiade, an’ for whatever Roundhead regiment might anger Nell.’ She’s a big woman, zir; when she milks, the whoale cow shaekes; an’ as for temper, why, if instead o’ his wretched powder kegs, Guy Fawkes had had my Nell—”
“Hold!” Rupert lifted a hand. “Around yon bend ahead of us—horsemen—Enemy!” His sword flew from its sheath.
They were five who came. One was a fat, middle-aged peasant in long brown coat, baggy trousers, mucky shoes, greasy hat, mounted on an ambling cob. The rest were unmistakable Ironsides. When they saw Rupert’s party, their yells blew down the wind: “Stray Cavaliers—a Puritan boy their captive—Save him! At them!”
“Get backs against this hedge,” Rupert ordered. “Stand fast. Behind me, Jennifer.”