Tycho pulled the door to and went cautiously to the window. Outside we could hear the snorting and neighing of many huntsmen’s horses.
‘Think you can escape? Think again,’ crowed the raven above the now deafening noise of the barking dogs.
We sat hunched against the wall of the hut, Tycho still holding the stick.
‘Come out or we will set the dogs on you,’ screeched Cronus.
Tycho looked at me, his eyes wild with anger. I held tight to him, fearful that he might do something foolhardy. Standing in the doorway stood two huge huntsmen. There was no escape. Tycho got up and rushed at them, trying to protect me. They hit out at him and threw him hard across the room.
I ran to where he fell and touched his face. Once again, I saw the light dart from me to him. He pulled himself to his feet.
‘What are you doing here?’ he shouted, throwing himself in front of me.
‘We have no interest in you,’ said one of the huntsmen coldly. ‘It is the girl we want. Now move away before I kill you.’
‘Please, Tycho,’ I cried, ‘do as they say.’
The huntsman pushed him away but still Tycho would not give up, not until the huntsman had him tight in his grasp. The other one picked me up as if I were no more than a rag doll.
‘What shall we do with him?’ said the huntsman, giving Tycho a blow in the side.
‘Bring him,’ said my captor. ‘When he has changed back to a fox we can have more sport.’
29
The Light of Shadows
It must have been around midday when we finally arrived at the tower. It was dark and forbidding, a place where the sun would be shy of shining, and I recognised it from my mother’s painting. A feeling of cold terror settled on me.
The tower was tall, very tall, built from black stone with no windows. The land around it was bare. Even the trees kept their distance, for nothing grew in this frozen place.
The huntsmen and their dogs surrounded the tower. They dragged Tycho to one side and tethered him to a stake. I was led roughly to the door of the tower.
‘No,’ shouted Tycho, fighting like a wild animal to pull himself free. ‘Leave her be. Take me, not her. Leave her!’
The huntsman cracked his whip. ‘Quiet, fox,’ he shouted, pushing me inside and closing the door behind me.
The silence in this dark, damp place was overwhelming, and I felt as if the stone walls were sucking all warmth from me. An unnatural green light hung in the air, illuminating the stairs that looked worn down by many feet. I was sure that whoever had climbed up here had done so, like me, with a heavy heart and an even heavier tread.
At the top there was an oak door that creaked open as if it had been waiting for me. I found myself in a room that was triangular in shape, the ceiling going up to a sharp point. It was made entirely of small panes of green glass. I felt as though I were deep underwater.
Rosmore was seated in an ornate chair, the sides of which were carved like huge wooden wings. She looked like some strange flightless bird, dressed in a dark purple gown with a shawl of ravens’ feathers. In her hand she held her mirror and at her side sat the raven on his perch, watching me.
I stood still, trying to catch my breath. I was shivering with cold and fright and so weak with hunger that my eyes began to play tricks, for it seemed to me as though there were endless Rosmores, one behind the other, going on into infinity.
‘I have waited too long for this day,’ she said, stroking the raven’s head. ‘Have I not, my beauty?’
‘Too long,’ echoed Cronus.
‘What have I to do with all this?’ I said, my legs shaking.
Rosmore laughed, her face, sharp as a knife, coming into focus as she leant towards me.
‘What indeed? Did your mother never tell you? Shall I tell you?’
‘Oh do,’ cawed the raven harshly.
‘It was like this, Coriander. Many years ago, long before you were born, I heard that your grandfather King Nablus had had a daughter, born with a shadow made of everlasting light. Oh Cronus, Coriander is baffled! Do you know how rare such a shadow is? It is the most precious gift a fairy can ever be given, and I knew that it was meant for me, not some wretched, snivelling child who would never understand the meaning of it.’
‘I still do not understand,’ I said.
‘That surprises me not,’ said Rosmore. ‘You are your mother’s child, I see. The shadow holds beauty. It holds life itself. It holds power, untold power. With it, I will rule this world.’
‘Quite,’ said Cronus, ‘and we devised a plan. You took a present to King Nablus’s wife. Alas, within a week she was dead.’
Rosmore put her hands to her heart. ‘Such a pity!’ she said.
I backed away from her. I had a sudden memory of the day my mother was taken ill, the way she fell, the pearls dancing on the floor, the raven’s wings shattering the glass. Cronus! I gasped as if I had been punched. Rosmore was responsible not only for the death of my grandmother but of my mother as well.
‘Your poor grandfather, left alone with his newborn child, was heartbroken. It was not hard to persuade the grieving King to marry me, to let me take his daughter Eleanor under my wing.’ She laughed. ‘How sweet and sensitive she was. Oh, how I enjoyed making her life a misery! I made sure the King was spellbound and saw nothing amiss.’
Rosmore held up the mirror and turned it towards me. As she did so, I fell to my knees, clutching at my stomach.
‘How could you be so cruel!’ I said.
It felt as if an invisible hand was pulling at my insides, and to my horror I saw coming from me a wisp of the silver shadow, attracted by the dark glass of the mirror. It hung in the air, suspended between us. Rosmore held her mirror closer.
‘Stupid girl! I bided my time, had this mirror made to catch the shadow in, waited until Eleanor was your age. She thought she had tricked me and got away, but this time the shadow will be mine. You will not be able to hold on. You are a fool even to try.’ And she drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. ‘But if you want to suffer, no matter. I have waited so long for this that a little longer makes no difference.’
‘What are you doing?’ I gasped. I was in such agony, feeling the shadow dragged from me.
‘Taking back what is rightfully mine.’
I thought to keep her talking, for I found the pain was less as long as she spoke.
‘A child’s shadow is a fickle thing. The shadow needed to be full grown to have its power. I arranged that your mother should marry and I planned to steal it on her wedding night.’
I felt myself getting weaker, but I managed to say, ‘What kept you?’
Rosmore stopped drumming her nails and leant forward, her face twisted with anger.
‘Eleanor, Eleanor. I grew sick of hearing her name. She thought to outwit me. Married a mortal, went to London, grew a garden, healed the sick!’ she sneered. ‘And much good it did her. She was seen as a witch, a cunning woman. She met the end she deserved.’
‘You killed her!’ I yelled.
‘What if I did? Your mother thought that she could keep the shadow from me. She hid it in a lead-lined casket so that I could not find it. Clever, for we cannot see through lead.’
‘Let me go,’ I cried.
‘No. You shall die, just like your mother, but first the shadow will be mine. Do you want to know how I found you?’
‘No!’ I screamed.
‘Medlar,’ continued Rosmore. ‘Medlar told the King he had a granddaughter. Cronus heard him, didn’t you, my beauty?’
‘I did,’ said the raven.
‘The King ordered a pair of silver shoes to be made for his little princess.’
‘What?’ I cried. ‘It was the King?’
‘Your grandfather. You know who you are. Do you think I would be bothered with a mere mortal? I put a curse on them. I came to visit you on London Bridge. I was curious to know what Eleanor’s daughter would be like. You took after your mother. A weakling, a butterfly to be
broken, a mouse to be played with.’
All the time she was speaking I was doing my best to hold the shadow in me. I dreaded her pulling any harder, for I was sure that I would die.
‘Let go,’ she ordered. ‘Let go. It will be better for you if you do.’
I was lying curled up in torment when I heard the voice of my mother saying, gently and calmly, like cool water after great thirst, ‘Coriander, you still have the shadow. Hold fast. She cannot take it from you unless you let her.’
I lifted my head and looked at Rosmore. I saw her mouth like an open wound, but I could hear no sound. I knew not what she was, but I hated her for killing my mother, for ruining our happiness, for her miserable greed.
The more I thought like this the more the pain lifted, and I found that I was able to stand up. As I did so, the silver light began to be absorbed into my skin again.
Rosmore came closer.
‘Do not dare,’ she said, holding the dark glass before her.
‘The mirror, Coriander,’ said my mother’s voice, ‘the mirror.’
Feeling braver, I put out my hands to take it. Silver light shot from my fingertips and then, in one swift movement, I snatched the mirror from Rosmore and the shadow sank once again back into my skin.
Now I had the power I needed and without question I knew what I must do. I turned the mirror towards Rosmore. She started but quickly collected herself.
‘Do you think you can outwit me? I will show you. Snuff out the day,’ she commanded. ‘Let the prince become a fox again.’ She raised her hand and immediately the sky darkened and became as black as night.
The raven took off from his perch, circling higher and higher up to the point of the glass roof. Then he swooped down on me. I put my hands up to push him away and at once I saw the shadow spin from me and catch the raven, bringing him down hard on the stone floor.
‘Cronus my beauty,’ cried Rosmore. She turned back to me. ‘You cursed girl. I’ll kill you for that.’
Time seemed to slow down. I could hear Rosmore screeching. I could see the raven, one wing spread, hobbling along the floor. I knew what to do. I allowed myself to feel all the anger, all the misery, and all the grief for everything that had happened to me. It was like a tight knotted ball and it came to the surface, passed through to the mirror and like an arrow shot from a bow went straight for Rosmore.
She cried out as it struck her, throwing her hard against the green glass walls as they cracked open to let in gusts of frozen air.
‘No!’ she raged, pushing her hands out before her, trying with all her might to resist the ball of silver light. I stood my ground. I believed in my strength. I flicked my fingers and again light burst from me.
She gave a piercing scream as she fell through the broken glass, searching desperately for wings that were not there. I ran to the shattered wall to see her plummet to the ground and explode like a giant firework, sending out sparks of light that whirled and whizzed before fading away.
The horses reared up in terror as Rosmore’s spell was finally broken, and before my eyes the huntsmen and their dogs were transformed into ravens that flew up towards the sky to chase the inky tail of night. I let the mirror drop and saw its liquid spill out on to the floor.
As I ran for the stairs, Cronus flapped his wings, uncertain of flight, and then with a lopsided gait took off and flew out and away through the broken glass.
30
Bittersweet
I heard Tycho call my name. I ran down the stairs two at a time, so thrilled was I to see him. It almost took my breath away to see how handsome he was.
‘Coriander, the spell is truly broken,’ he said jubilantly. ‘I am myself again. Everything now will be restored to the way it was. Rosmore is dead. Look, spring is no longer waiting in the wings, longing for its entrance. It is centre stage. This is only the beginning. This is the restoration.’ He lifted me up in the air and we spun round.
The white horse came and nuzzled Tycho’s neck. He laughed, and stroking the horse’s mane said, ‘We both think you brave.’
‘There is still much I do not understand,’ I said. ‘Why did my mother not know the power of the shadow? It could have saved her.’
Tycho sighed. ‘Medlar told me that she had been so crushed by Rosmore that she saw it only as a terrible burden. She did not want it, and neither did she want Rosmore to have it, knowing too well her nature. Your mother wanted to be free of the shadow altogether.’
‘It has sunk into my skin,’ I said.
Tycho put his arms round me. ‘It was meant for you, I am sure of that.’
I rested my head against him. ‘Now what?’ I said.
‘Come home with me. Let me show you my city. It has a river that runs as green as opal through it.’
‘And,’ I whispered, ‘it has mermaids and mermen that push boats from one side to the other. There is a bridge across the river, with houses on it, painted in different colours.’
‘How do you know all that?’
‘My father had his portrait painted, and behind him is such a city,’ I said.
‘My family live in a palace on the river,’ said Tycho. ‘Oh, Coriander, there is so much more to this world than the little fragment you have seen of it. Now that Rosmore is gone, it will be restored to the golden land it always was. I want to show you the brightly coloured houses and the merchants who trade in cloths no human eye has seen. I want to take you to the goblin market, to sail downriver in a boat pulled by mermen, so that you can listen to the songs and stories of the mermaids. I promise you with all my heart that I will love and take care of you always. Do not go. Please stay. You belong here.’
I wanted to go with him. I wanted that more than anything else, and for one moment, one wild moment, I thought I could. Then I remembered all those I had left behind. Was it not strange? Here I was. I had hoped to see Tycho again. Now my hopes tasted like bitter fruit in my mouth, and I said, ‘Alas, I cannot come. I have to go back and see what has happened to my father.’
‘I wish it were not so,’ said Tycho. And he lifted my face towards his and kissed me. I stood there as if in a dream, unable to move.
‘Then come back with me. Let me show you my city,’ I said, ‘and our house by the river.’
I felt happiness rush in upon me once more, only for it to recede like the tide when he said, ‘I wish it could be. Like you, I have much to find out.’
I looked into his dark eyes and in them saw the planets and the stars.
‘Time is the only thing that is against us,’ he said, ‘for our worlds are run by different clocks. Maybe I will have a long beard like Medlar when next we meet, and you will be a married woman. What then?’ He kissed me again. ‘Come home,’ he said. ‘Come back with me now.’
I felt that I stood at a crossroads between two worlds. I must choose between this land of dreams and promises, or my life, my real life in London. The decision was made all the harder by the sweetness of Tycho’s touch and the longing in my heart to be with him. I was sure that whichever path I took I would never get back to this moment again, and that I would have to live with regret. I felt the silver shoes press into me, and I heard my mother’s sweet voice calling, and knew then that I must return and find my father. I must for her sake put away all childish thoughts. I must for her become a young woman and accept my lot in life.
‘Do you think it is enough that we met and fell in love?’
‘No,’ said Tycho. ‘I know that with you I am complete. Without you the boy in me is for ever lost.’
‘I have to return,’ I said.
‘I know that,’ he said, and he kissed me and climbed back on to the great white horse and rode away towards the forest.
It was unbearable to see him leave and I forced myself not to look. I busied myself by taking out the silver shoes from my doublet, and carefully unwrapping them. Tears, blasted tears, blurred my vision. Only when I had the first shoe on did I allow myself to look back, to see that Tycho had stopped at the edge
of the forest and was watching me. I wanted to run to him, and I felt as if my heart would break when once more he turned away and slowly rode out of sight. A part of me went with him, and as I put my foot into the other shoe I wondered if I would ever feel whole again.
And so the sixth part of my tale is told, and with it a candle goes out.
PART SEVEN
31
Homecoming
So the wheel had come full circle and I found myself back in my father’s study. Mysteriously, the furniture had been restored to its rightful place. The stuffed alligator was once again king of the ebony cabinet and my mother’s chest was placed under the latticed window. How strange to see it so! I wondered if Rosmore’s death had had anything to do with this transformation.
I looked around the room, feeling as if I stood outside time, uncertain as to whether the hands on the clock had gone backwards or forwards. A fire was burning, and I thought the year must still be young if there was need of kindling and coal.
I heard footsteps outside the study door and quickly hid beside the ebony cabinet, wondering who would turn the handle. To my utter amazement, there was my father. He was dressed for the day’s business and carrying a pile of letters, one of which he was reading. He looked older than I remembered, his hair grey and his face weather-worn.
‘Father!’ I whispered and he spun round, as shocked to see me as I was to see him. His papers shot from his hands and went flying up into the air. We stood like strangers, staring at one another. I heard the clock in the hall strike the hour and in that moment I knew I had rejoined this world.
He said softly, as one might to a ghost, ‘Coriander?’ Puzzled, he looked at me as if still unsure whether he could trust what he was seeing. ‘Am I dreaming or is it truly you, dressed so strangely?’
‘It is truly I,’ I replied. ‘I have come back.’