“Good for you!” said Lady Agnes fiercely. Her pale face flushed. “As for Rollo — shame on him! You should tell my father.”
“I can’t do that!” Wolf exclaimed. “He meant well.”
They were alone together in the solar. A book lay open on a stand in front of them. If anyone came in, Lady Agnes and Wolfstan the Clerk were studying Lives of the Saints — though neither of them had turned a single page.
Wolf thought the solar was the grandest room he had ever been in. It was lofty and cold, open to the rafters. A great curtained bed stood in the centre of the floor. A small door led through into Lord Hugo’s private chamber.
The plaster walls had been whitewashed and then painted — but not with magical signs, as Rollo had thought. On the south wall was a picture of the universe, with Christ in Glory presiding over it, one hand lifted in blessing. On the north wall, someone had painted a map of the world, the green lands rimmed with a great blue circle of ocean. Afternoon sunlight ruled a stripe up the map, gleaming on the gilded names of Britain at the bottom, Jerusalem at the centre, and the Earthly Paradise at the top.
“Meant well?” Lady Agnes exploded. “He was going to murder her!”
“I know,” said Wolf, “but he was doing it for Hugo. He thinks Elfgift — well, he thinks she’s a danger to your father. And I suppose he could be right.”
The girl sprang to her feet. “Very well! Perhaps he is right. Perhaps they’re all right! My father’s dreams are true. My mother didn’t really die. She was carried away by the elves or the Fair Family or whatever you want to call them…” She broke off. “I don’t believe it! This was where it happened. This room, that bed. I was only six; they’d promised me a baby brother or sister. I wasn’t allowed in. So I sat on the stairs for hours, till Angharad came out and cuddled me up — she was crying. She said, ‘Nest, my poor cariad, your Mam’s gone away to Heaven and you’ll never see her again.’ Just like that! And you know what I did? I hit her! I hit her with my fists and I screamed, ‘It’s not true!’”
She crossed the room with quick strides. “But it was true. They made me believe it. My mother was dead.” She lifted her face and glared at him. “And now they’re changing their minds?”
Wolf looked down at the book in front of him, searching for something to say. From its bold, black script, little tendrils and dragons escaped up the margins. He muttered, “I don’t know what to think.”
“I’ll tell you. Come here. Come!” Imperiously she waved him over to the painting on the south wall. “See this picture, how beautiful it is? A map of the whole of Creation! Mam painted it herself. I used to sit on a stool eating nuts and watching her.”
She pointed. “Look, here’s the Earth in the middle, like a little ball. All around it is the air. Above that, the Moon.” She traced a line up the wall. “Next, Mercury and Venus.” Her finger landed on a fiery little sun with a human face, crackling with life. “Here’s the Sun. Then Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, spinning around and around the Earth, all of them set in crystal spheres, each one bigger than the last! Then, this dark blue circle with the stars painted in it — that’s the Fixed Stars, all turning around together. And then the sphere that makes them all move, and beyond that—” Her finger burst through the last ring, like a chicken pecking through an eggshell. “Heaven.”
She drew a deep breath.” That’s where my Mam is! Outside the universe. Safe in Heaven. Safe with God!”
Wolf believed her. She sounded so sure.
“You know what Mam used to tell me?” Nest went on. “‘Compared to Heaven, Nest, the whole world is no bigger than a nutshell.’ And it’s hollow. Deep in the centre of the Earth is the underworld. The pit of Hell, crowded with devils.” She clenched her fists and her eyes flashed. “How can my own father believe Mam might be in Hell?”
Wolf thought of Hugo breaking his spear on the flagstones. “He’s afraid for her. He’s had all those dreams, remember? He thinks she’s in Elfland. But Elfland isn’t Hell. Not if it’s the cave where Elfgift was. I was there. And it was just wet and dark and stony. There weren’t any fires or demons.”
“Maybe the fires and the demons are further down.”
Wolf couldn’t deny it. There was a moment’s grim silence. Nest added more calmly, “Then it’s not true, what the servants are saying — that you found a cavern glowing with light, filled with green hills and castles and rivers?”
“It was completely dark down there,” said Wolf. “I did see something. I hit my head, and it’s true for a moment I thought the walls opened, and I saw —” he screwed his eyes shut, trying to remember “— maybe I saw hills and a river. But I couldn’t swear to it. And the next minute it was gone, and I was back in the dark.”
Nest nodded. “Because the elves can make things look any way they like. By fairy glamour, magic illusions.” She sat down, leaned her elbows on the bookstand, and stared at him. “I’ve been reading. This book says the elves are nearly as bad as demons. Is Elfgift really an elf, Wolf?”
“She’s not a demon,” said Wolf at once.
“You’re sure?”
“At the abbey they warned us about demons and devils till we were frightened of our own shadows. So I thought she was a demon the first time I saw her, but I was wrong. Elfgift couldn’t harm anyone,” said Wolf hotly. “Only someone like Brother Thomas would think that.”
“Who’s he?”
“My old master at the abbey.” Wolf’s face darkened. “All the boys hated him. I don’t think even the abbot liked him. I’ve decided, anything Brother Thomas told me, I’m going to believe the opposite. Don’t worry about it, Nest. Elfgift’s not dangerous.”
“You’re right,” Nest decided. She blew a breath of relief and looked at him, half-smiling. “When did you start calling me Nest?”
Wolf was startled. “Did I? Is that what your mother called you? I’m sorry. I must have picked it up without thinking.”
“It’s only the Welsh for ‘Agnes’.”
“I like it. It suits you better than ‘Agnes’.”
She was silent. He added, “I won’t do it again. My lady.”
“Oh, don’t,” she burst out. “I’d far rather be Nest. I hate being Agnes. You can call me Nest — at least until I get married…”
Wolf flushed, and bowed. There was a moment when neither of them knew quite what to say. Then they both spoke at once.
“But what about—”
“But Elfgift—”
It was a relief to laugh. Wolf said, “Yes, Elfgift?”
“We’ll tame her with kindness,” Nest said. “That’s what Mother Aethelflaed would do. The first thing is to teach her to know her own name. Try calling her, and give her a titbit if she comes. If we keep talking to her, she’ll learn by listening.”
It didn’t sound like much of a plan, but Wolf couldn’t think of anything better. He remembered how Lord Hugo had said the elves paid their fee to Hell at New Year; it was only the beginning of October now. “We’ve got three months,” he said optimistically. “Surely that’s long enough?”
The door latch clicked. Angharad came in, pushing aside the embroidered woollen curtain that kept out the draughts. Breathless from the stairs, she puffed, “Long enough for what?”
“Teaching Elfgift to talk,” said Nest. “My father has asked Wolf to do it.”
Angharad shook her head. “It can talk if it wants to; it’s pretending, isn’t it? It’s a goblin; a crimbil! I know how to set about it. Though your father ought to get rid of it, that’s my opinion. I nearly dropped dead of fright when I saw it on the doorstep last night. Elves bring disease.”
“Oh, Angharad…”
“They do! There’s the elf-hiccup, and elf-stroke, and water-elf disease — my own mother’s sister suffered dreadfully from the water-elf disease. She couldn’t stop sneezing. Besides, what if the elf-lord comes looking for it? None of us will be safe in our beds. I hardly slept last night. I was woken by something screaming just outside the window, screaming like a lost soul!”
“Only the wind,” said Nest.
But Wolf said awkwardly, “I think it might have been Howell’s pig. You know the one — Morwenna? I tripped over her last night on my way to the chapel, and she squealed awfully.”
Angharad bridled, flushing. “It wasn’t the wind, my lady. And it was not a pig, either, Master Clerk. Like a lost soul, I said, and like a lost soul is what I meant. It was the Wild Host of Annwn, whirling round and about the castle, shrieking!”
Wolf caught Nest’s eye. “Still the pig,” he mouthed. She bit her lip on a smile. Angharad’s eyes darted suspiciously between their faces.
“Angharad, cariad, what’s your advice?” Nest soothed. “You said you know a way to make the elf-girl talk?”
Angharad sank on to the edge of the bed, easing the weight from her feet. “You have to catch it off guard. What you do is this: you get hold of some porridge and an empty eggshell. And then, with the elf in the room, you do something completely strange. You boil up the porridge in the eggshell, and the elf is so astonished, it gives itself away by crying out, ‘I have lived far a thousand years, but I never saw anyone cooking porridge in an eggshell before!’ What’s the matter?”
Nest doubled over, covering her face.
“What’s wrong?” Angharad threw up her hands.
Nest emerged, wet-cheeked and choking with laughter. “I was imagining Wolf — pouring porridge into an eggshell. It would c-collapse and go all over his f-fingers…”
Wolf walked swiftly to the window and stared out, fighting down giggles. A chilly draught blew in, and the sky was full of bright, cold clouds. He could see across the yard to the gate where the guards stood with their crossbows, watching the cart-track that led out across Lord Hugo’s fields.
A group of horsemen with hounds at their heels came trotting past the kennels. Hugo led the way on his black horse, white Argos frisking at his side. Rollo rode just behind on a thick-legged bay. The guards straightened, presenting their crossbows and crying, “Lord Hugo goes hunting!” A horn brayed, harsh and valiant. Wolf felt a stab of longing. He’d give anything to be going with them.
One day I will. When I’m a squire. When Elfgift can talk…
“What do you think, Wolf?” said Nest from behind him. Her voice brimmed with laughter. “The eggshell idea. Shall we give it a try?”
“He isn’t listening,” Angharad said crossly.
It was true. Wolf crammed himself into the window, forcing half his body through the narrow aperture, craning his neck to follow a fleeting movement below.
He pulled back in, bumping his head on the frame. The room looked dark after the brightness outdoors.
“Quick! Elfgift’s got out!”