Part 66 (1/2)

”They took the road to Evreux, according to a peasant we met, but we went a good five miles down and no sign of them. Another fellow coming back from the town reported a wagon going the other way, but we saw no sign of it.”

”Fresh instructions: Sir Robert found a door or something leading up to the walk-away, and has reason to believe the girl may be wise to the pursuit. Go back the way you came, search along the way for more clues. We are taking the western road. Orders are the same: lose 'em, permanently!”

”Jewels still missing?”

”So the lady says.”

”How's the boy taking it?”

”State of shock. Can't believe it. I fancy he was sweet on her. Can't say as I blame him: know which one I'd've preferred.”

And they rode off in the direction of the fork in the road, leaving me in a state of disbelief. So that was Sir Robert's excuse: I was supposed to have stolen some jewels! I realized that it would have made no difference what I had written; valuables would still have disappeared, and I should have been to blame. So now there was a price on my head, and death the reward. No turning back, however much I might have wanted to.

I wondered when the jewels would conveniently turn up again-or would Gill's father believe it worth the game to leave them buried or whatever, and buy Rosamund some more?

Once we reached the demesne, the Wimperling led us along deer tracks through the forest, at a convenient distance from the manor house. We described a great loop around the demesne, going short of food because I couldn't light fires, though the Wimperling and Growch were quite happy with raw sausages. On the third day the Wimperling declared us free of the de Faucon estate, and we found a road of sorts.

At the first village we came to, two days later, I threw caution to the winds, and spent far more than I intended on bought food, luxuriating on pies and roasted meat. In the next village and the next I recouped some of the results of my spendthrift ways with a performance, but villagers have little enough to spend at the best of times, and now the winter was fast approaching.

Which led to the question of where we were headed.

All I had thought about up to now had been escaping Sir Robert, but now was the time to consider our future. I knew Growch had said he wanted a warm fire, a family and plenty to eat, and I had set off on this whole enterprise with the thought of finding a complaisant and wealthy husband, but as far as I could see, neither of us were nearer our goal, once I had refused Matthew's offer. And what of the Wimperling? He had never asked for a destination, had seemed content to follow wherever we went. But we couldn't just go on wandering like this: if nothing else we had to find winter quarters, and soon.

The question of which way to go came up naturally enough. One morning we stood at a crossroads; all roads looked more or less the same, and I had no particular feeling about any of them, except that south would be warmer, and it might be easier to over-winter in or near some town.

”Which way?” I asked the others, not really expecting an answer, for Growch was a follower rather than a leader, and the Wimperling had never expressed a preference. Now, however, he did have something to say.

”Er . . . I'd rather like to discuss that,” he said diffidently. ”Perhaps we could sit down?”

”Lunchtime anyhow,” said Growch, looking up at the weak sun. ”Got any more o' that pie left?”

”We finished that yesterday. Cheese, apples, bean loaf, cold bacon-”

”Yes.”

The Wimperling chose the apples and I munched on the cheese.

”Right, Wimperling, what did you have in mind?”

He still seemed reluctant to ask. ”When-when you so kindly rescued me,” he began, ”I said I would like to tag along because there was nowhere special I wanted to go. . . .”

I nodded encouragingly. ”And now there is?”

”There wasn't then, but there is now. Yes.” He sat back on his haunches, looking relieved. ”Let me explain. When I was little I was brought up as a pig and believed I was one-in spite of the wings and the other bits that didn't quite fit.” He held up one foot, and looked at the claws, much bigger now.

”See what I mean? Well, ever since then as I have been growing I have felt more and more that I wasn't a pig. What I was, I didn't quite know, though I had my suspicions. Then, that night when we crossed the border, I thought I knew. And the feeling has been growing stronger ever since.”

”Can you tell us?”

He shuffled about a bit. ”I'd rather not, just yet. In case I'm terribly wrong . . .

But I should like you to come with me, to find out. You might find it quite interesting, I think.”

I looked at Growch, who was practically standing on his head trying to get a piece of rind out of his back teeth. No help there.

”Of course we will come. Where do you want to go? How far away is it?”

”One hundred and twelve miles and a quarter west-southwest,” he said precisely. ”Give or take a yard or so.”

I flung my arms about his neck, laughing, then planted a kiss on his snout.

”How on earth can you be so-”

But before I had finished my sentence an extraordinary explosion took place.

The Wimperling literally zoomed some twenty feet into the air vertically, then whizzed first right and then left and then in circles, almost faster than the eye could see. As he was now considerably larger than I was, I was tumbled head- over-heels and Growch disappeared into a bush, rind and all.

The whole thing can only have lasted some fifteen seconds or so, but it seemed forever. I curled up in a ball for protection, my fingers in my ears, my eyes tight shut, until an almighty thump on the ground in front of me announced the Wimperling's return to earth.

I opened my eyes, my ears and finally my mouth. ”You nearly scared the skin off me! What in the world do you think you're doing?” I asked furiously.

Then: ”You're-you're different!”

He looked as if someone had just taken him apart and then rea.s.sembled him rather badly. Everything was in the right place, more or less, but the pieces looked as if they might have been borrowed from half a dozen other animals.

His ears were smaller, his tail longer, his back scalier, his snout bigger, his chest deeper, his stomach flatter, his claws more curved, and the lumps on his side where he hid his wings looked like badly folded sacks. He looked less like a pig than ever, while still being one, and his expression was pure misery.

My anger and fright evaporated like morning mist. ”Oh, Wimperling! I'm so sorry! You look dreadful-was it something I said? Or did?”

His voice had gone unexpectedly deep and gruff, as if his insides had been shaken up as well. ”You kissed me. I told you once before never to do that again. . . . Remember?”

I did, now. ”Sorry, sorry, sorry! It's just that-just that when one feels grateful or happy or loving it seems the right thing to do. For me, anyway.” I thought.

”It didn't have the same effect on Gill. And, come to that, I've never kissed Growch. . . .”

”Who wants kisses, anyway?” demanded the latter, who had crept out from his bush, minus rind, I was glad to see. ”Kissin's soppy; kissin's for pups and babies an' all that rubbis.h.!.+” Something told me that in spite of the words he was jealous, so I picked him up and planted three kisses on his nose.

”There! Now you're one ahead. . . .”

He rubbed his nose on his paws and then sneezed violently. ”Gerroff! s.h.i.+t: now you'll have me sneezin' all night. . . . Poof!” He nodded towards the Wimperling. ”An' if that's what a kiss can do, then I don' wan' no more, never!”

I turned back to the Wimperling. ”Better now?”

He nodded. ”Think so . . .” His voice was still deep, and if I hoped he would regain his old shape gradually, I was to be disappointed. ”As I was saying, before all-this-happened-” He looked down at his altered shape. ”I should like to go to the place where it all started. The place where I was hatched, born, whatever . . . The Place of Stones.”

This sounded interesting. ”And is this the place that you said was a hundred miles or so to the west-something?”

He nodded.