The Duke's hand clenched suddenly, tightly, on Mardian's amulet. He turned to the guards. There was no sign now of fatigue or sickness.
His voice was crisp and hard. "Call the captain on duty, and wake my gentlemen. The servants, too, to carry my chair.
We will go down now to this room in the cellarage, and see if we may learn the truth of this strange tale." He turned to Denis. "And you, see that the wine in the golden jug, and all the mixings for the posset, are kept for my physicians to examine. Now, does anyone know where my Lord Mardian is? The man–as this boy would say–whom we know as my Lord Mardian?"
No one did. The cold eyes came back to John.
"You have told me a strange tale, of sorcery and violence and treachery. Because of this amulet, which is the sign of trust and faithfulness, I have listened to you, and I am prepared to believe that what you tell me may be true. But I cannot proceed against my Lord Mardian, whom you call Almeric, without proof. If the great wolf of Wolfenwald is indeed a werewolf, condemned by sorcery, then he must yield himself to our mercy until this tale be proved true, or else shown to be lies."
"Oh, he will, he will!" cried John. "Just wait till daylight, and don't let them kill him, and then you'll see! Please, Lord Duke, let's all go straight down to the cellar, now!"
In a moment all was noise and hurrying. The door was thrown open, and one of the guards went shouting for the Duke's captain and his soldiers. Denis ran to stand guard over the table with the wine and spices. Someone came running with his master's sword, and knelt to gird it on. Servants hurried in with poles, which they threaded through sockets at the sides of the Duke's chair. Torches were brought, there were shouted commands, and the orderly tramp of feet.
Suddenly, through all the noise, could be heard a shrill cry, and a boy came running. It was Justin, the bruises showing black on his pale face.
"My lord, my lord! There's a great wolf in the cellarage, and my Lord Mardian is there with it! I was in the privy chamber, and I heard him go by. Then I heard voices, and went to look through the cellar door, and saw Lord Mardian, with a young girl, and a knife in his hand, protecting her with his life against a wolf! My lord, it was the great wolf himself!"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Down in the secret room the dreadful moment seemed to last for ever. Wolf crouched just inside the window, rigid as a statue, the snarl frozen on his jaws. Margaret could not move at all; Almeric's hand gripped her so tightly against him that she could hardly breathe. In his other hand the knife gleamed.
The enchanter seemed quite calm. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her. He spoke to Wolf.
"Keep your distance! Yes, that's it. Stay exactly there. If you make any move towards me, or if you try to escape through that window, I think you know what will happen to this child. Yes?"
Wolf snarled, and stayed just where he was.
Almeric laughed. "What a good beast it is! And you, child–did you say your name was Gretta? If I take my hand from your mouth, you will make no sound. Is that understood?"
Margaret managed to nod. The hard hand moved, but his grip on her remained. She made no attempt to cry out again, and the enchanter nodded his approval. "Good, good. How very sensible."
"They wouldn't hear me anyway," said Margaret. Her voice sounded hoarse and sullen. She rubbed at her sore lips.
"No. And even if they did, and came here to look for you, they would listen to me, rather than to you, and they would certainly do my bidding, and kill your friend the werewolf. How right you are, my pretty dear! And I was right, too, about you, was I not? You belong to the wolf, and he sent you here. Well, we shall go presently, you and I, where you can talk to me and tell me all I want to know. But first to cage this wild beast up fast, to wait for our sport with him."
Margaret did cry out at that. Wolf did not stir. She could see that she was indeed a hostage; while the enchanter held her in his grip, the werewolf would do exactly as he was bidden, even if it meant his death.
There was no point any longer in pretending. Margaret spoke breathlessly, straight to him.
"Wolf, dear, run away now! It's all right! He can't really hurt me, you know! It's just a dream, or a spell! You know it is!! All I have to do now is wake up, so go now, quickly! Please, Wolf!"
She did half believe, half hope, that this was true, but it was still very brave of her to say it, with the enchanter's grip on her feeling very real indeed, and the enchanter's laughter in her ear. And when Wolf made no move at all, she could not help the swift relief that swept through her.
Almeric had stiffened as she spoke. Now he nodded with satisfaction. "Yes. I thought you would see it my way, Mardian the werewolf! So now, since this chamber holds secrets that I would like to keep secret, you, wolf, will go ahead of us out into the big cellar... Slowly, now, slowly, if you wish the little maid to stay unhurt... Now, wait where I can see you, at the end of the cellar, away from the stairs. Yes, there. Now stay! Stay! Lie down!"
All the time he was talking he himself was moving after Wolf, out of the secret room. He edged carefully between the wine vats, reaching out swiftly to pull the door shut behind them.
Margaret heard the latch drop. Now, whatever happened, Wolf could not escape without someone to lift the latch for him. He was caged, like a beast. And what made it all extra horrible was that Almeric, when he spoke to him, used the kind of voice that people sometimes use to dogs. Margaret, scared as she was, still felt herself flushing with shame and rage. She had a sharp impulse to hack Almeric on the shins, but managed to stop herself when she saw how Wolf, even as he obeyed the harsh commands, showed a kind of dignity. He moved quietly to the cellar's end and lay down, head on paws, like a waiting lion. Though his eyes still had a watchful glare, and his ears were Hat to his skull, he looked calm, and his calmness helped her.
Almeric, too, was watchful. It was obvious that he dared not make even the smallest mistake. Slowly, still holding Margaret, he began to back the length of the cellar towards the stone stairway.
As he went, he talked. "Now, as you see, my dear Gretta, your friend the werewolf cannot escape... not, that is, until he resumes his man's shape, and has a hand to unfasten the latch. And well before that time I shall have called my friends hither, and we shall do the dukedom a service in ridding it of the plague of Wolfenwald... Quietly, now! If you kick me, be sure I shall hurt you. And be sure, my pretty maid, that if this is a dream, you are caged in it as fast as your Wolf is in his cellar!"
"Where are you taking me?" She wanted to sound brave again, but her voice was thin and a bit squeaky with fright.
"To my own chamber, where I shall have leisure to question you, without having to keep watch on the wolf all the while."
"I shan't tell you anything! There's nothing to tell!"
"Two statements, neither of which is true," he said calmly. "Have you stopped being sensible? The werewolf must have told you his story, and you know who I am. You also found out, in the secret room yonder, that I have the power to make you tell me anything I want to know. And since you spied on my work there, you will also know that I have, in this pouch here on my breast, a magic powder with which to work–or to renew–the wolf-spell. Mardian needs it no longer; he will be dead before dawn; but how would you, little Gretta, like to take his place?"
"No."
From his smile she thought–hoped–that he was only trying to frighten her still more. She was trying desperately to think. There was no point in hanging back, or talking to delay him; there were hours yet to go to daybreak, when Wolf could become a man again; and long before that Almeric would make sure that he was killed. But–and it was a big "but"–the enchanter obviously did not know or suspect anything about John. If only he could be got out of the way before John came down to the cellar, then John would be able to let Wolf out, and the two of them could come to her rescue through the sleeping castle. And then at last Wolf would have the chance to tackle his enemy, and perhaps break the spell.
"All
right," she said sullenly. "What do you want me to tell you?"
"About the charm."
"What charm?" They were halfway along the cellar now. Still Wolf had not moved, except that his head was up, and the glare had gone from his eyes. His ears, which had been laid flat back, were erect, as if he was listening to something outside the cellar.
Behind her, at the head of the stairway, she thought she heard a faint sound, as if the great door had opened. Her heart lurched with fright.
John! She risked a swift glance over her shoulder. Nothing. The door was shut.
"What charm?" she asked again, rather wildly.
Almeric gave her a sharp little shake. "Try not to be stupid! The amulet, Gretta, the amulet! The amulet that no doubt Mardian has entrusted to you to bring into the hands of Duke Otho. The silly boyhood gift with its silly motto, that alone could make Otho listen to a tale as wild as any child's bedtime story, of werewolves and magic and moonshine! Why else are you here? Why else would Duke Otho ever lend an ear to you, a child? You have the amulet, Gretta, or you know where it is. So tell me.
Where?"
"Oh, that thing! I didn't know it was a charm. I haven't got it."
"Are you still trying to pretend to me?" he said angrily.
"No, oh, no! What would be the use? I only meant I haven't got it on me. I hid it."
They had almost reached the foot of the stairway. She went thankfully. Perhaps after all they would be out of the way when John came.
But first she must let Wolf know where to find her.
She turned his way, to see with some alarm that he was on his feet now, standing with ears erect and head cocked slightly to one side. She knew that look. It was the way Tray stood when he could hear (or smell or see) something not perceptible to humans. She raised her voice, talking quickly and loudly so that Wolf could hear her clearly, and John, if he was approaching the door, would be warned that something was wrong.
"Lord Almeric, you've guessed that the wolf brought me here, and bade me give the amulet into the Duke's hands. That was last night. But I couldn't come near the Duke, only to the women's rooms, and so. Lord Almeric–"
"Stop shouting!" snapped the enchanter. "And so?"
"After dinner," gabbled Margaret, without lowering her voice at all, '"when we were in the garden–that's the upper garden where the girls play–I hid it below a bush. I buried it. Lord Almeric!"
They had reached the stairs now. Carefully, watching Wolf all the time, Almeric began to back up them.
"Which bush?"
"The third, I think, or was it the fourth? Not far along from the little urn. I–"
"Which urn?"
"Is there more than one? I don't remember. But I could find it if we went there now. Lord Almeric–"
Then she heard what Wolf had heard seconds before. A sound in the corridor beyond the great door. Someone coming, with no secrecy at all.
John had not heard her. Here he came, with the precious amulet still in the pouch at his belt, ready for Almeric to take, and destroy them all!
She drew a sharp breath of terror, and screamed as loudly as she could:
"No, no, no! He's here, Almeric's here! Almeric's here!"
The hand clamped across her mouth again, cutting off the scream. In the same moment, she realized that it was not just one person approaching, but a whole crowd of people. They were not jostling and talking like an ordinary crowd, but coming swiftly and in order, like a troop of soldiers.
And that, when the door opened and she strained round to look, was exactly what she saw.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
To the Duke's soldiers and gentlemen, Margaret's cry seemed to echo what Justin had just told them. There, on the steps of the cellarage, stood the man they knew as Mardian, with a girl clasped to him, facing the menacing crouch of the great wolf. He was armed only with a knife, and the girl had been screaming with terror–something about Almeric. Some of those present thought, like Crispin, that the wolf might indeed be the missing Almeric.
Almeric himself, though taken by surprise at the sudden clamour at the door, recovered himself quickly. Keeping his hand tightly across Margaret's mouth, he backed a step higher, calling breathlessly: "A rescue! A rescue! The beast broke in from the moat, and would have killed this child!"
To the newcomers, pressing in through the doorway in the wake of the Duke's chair, it looked as if he were protecting her with his own body.
"It's the great wolf himself!" cried Almeric. "Kill him now, and rid the land of this most accursed plague!"
There was the whine of steel as swords whipped out.
John shouted desperately: "No!" and at the same moment the Duke's voice rang out, clear and commanding: "Stop! Put up your swords!"
At the sound of the Duke's voice three things happened. Almeric, starting violently, whirled round to face his master. He relaxed his hold of Margaret, who broke free. Wolf, in swift and deadly silence, bunched his great muscles to launch himself at last towards his enemy.
What might have happened then it was hard to guess. If Wolf had actually sprung on Almeric, one of the swords would surely have caught and cut him down. But Margaret, shrieking: "No, Wolf, no!" ran, not away from the dreadful beast, but straight to him, and flung herself on her knees beside him, with both arms clasped tightly round his neck.
And the great wolf of Wolfenwald stopped short in his tracks. The bristling hair flattened along his back. The red glare died from his eyes. His head went down.
As the servants set the Duke's chair at the foot of the steps, Wolf sank to the floor in front of it, and laid his head at his master's feet.
Into the awed silence, Almeric said hoarsely: "Sorcery! This is evil sorcery! The girl is a witch! I found her at the table in that room yonder–our room, Otho! You may see the potions and spells she was concocting! You need look no further for the cause of your ailments!"
"Sorcery indeed," said the Duke, "and certainly evil. Well, we shall soon prove the truth of it." He spoke to Margaret kindly. "Come here to me, child."
Margaret stood up. Her legs were shaking.
She went and stood by John, near the Duke's chair. John murmured under his breath: "He has it. He'll believe us. It'll be all right, you'll see."
The children stood rather close together, holding hands. All at once their adventure–whether dream or spell or reality–had changed, like moving into different air, and had become something solemn and splendid and terrible.
There sat the Duke in his gilded chair, wrapped in his cloak of royal scarlet. He had looked nowhere except at the great wolf lying at his feet. His face was very pale, but composed and stern.
When he spoke, he did not raise his voice, but his words fell into such a silence that you would have thought every man there was holding his breath.
He spoke at last, with courtesy to Almeric.
"My lord, you also have been accused of sorcery. No, be silent now. You will, with this beast, and with these children, stand trial of it soon." Then he spoke straight to Wolf, at his feet. "And you, if you are truly what these children would have me believe, you need fear nothing. But my people fear you, so, until the truth is known, you will let them bind you, while we wait for morning. Bring the chains and bind them both."
At this, the false enchanter began to protest, but already the soldiers were holding him. They bound his wrists together with chains–gently, for to them this was still the Lord Mardian, friend of Duke Otho. Those who approached the wolf did so nervously, but he never stirred, and presently they had him shackled with heavy chains. Because they were afraid of him, and perhaps because they were still afraid of Almeric, they used him roughly. The children watched, distressed, until they saw how the Duke watched, too, with something in his face that had not been there before. And all the time, hidden in his hand, he held the amulet.
When the chains were fast, he spoke again.
"Now we will go up to the terrace garden, to wait for daybreak. The children will stay with m
e."
It was still dark outside. They all trooped up to the terrace where Margaret had first seen Almeric with the prince. The servants carrying the torches ranged themselves back against the wall of the upper garden. The smoke from the torches drifted upwards through the overhanging myrtle bushes. A pair of sleepy peacocks, roosting there, stirred, protesting, then fled squawking at the sight of Wolf. There were little orange trees, in tubs, set along beside the low outer battlement. They smelled rich and sweet.
There was no wind, and the grass was heavy with dew.
The servants set the Duke's chair down facing the battlement. In front of him, beside the orange trees, Almeric and the wolf stood face to face in their chains. No one spoke. Time passed.
Almeric did turn, once, towards the Duke, as if to speak, but Otho said quietly: "Friend, of your courtesy, be silent now until the test is made. In a trial of faith, what has the true Mardian to fear? Afterwards, if you are indeed my friend, we shall speak together, and I promise you that your recompense shall be great."
The enchanter could do nothing but fall silent. But his fettered hands were clenched against his breast, and his lips moved, as if trying, even here, for a spell.
Somewhere, down in the distant village, a cock crowed.
Wolf lifted his head. His chains clanked. Almeric made a sharp movement, as if of sudden fear.
The children looked at one another. They were both remembering, in the same moment, the change that had taken place in the cottage.
They thought of Wolf's shame then, and his talk of "suffering." The change from wolf to man might not be so dreadful and humiliating as the one they had overheard, but they remembered something else about it.
"Go on," whispered Margaret. "Tell him."