Nerulf had waded out to where the reeds grew thick and soft. Dhrun signaled to Glyneth. She ran to join him and Dhrun gave her quick instructions.

Nerulf looked up and saw the two standing together. He called out to Dhrun: "What are you doing here? I told you to leave and never return! You disobeyed me and I now sentence you to death."

Glyneth saw something rise from the marsh behind Nerulf. She shrieked and pointed her finger.

Nerulf uttered a scornful laugh. "Do you think you can fool me with that old trick? I am somewhat more-" He felt a soft touch on his arm and looking down saw a long-fingered gray hand with k.n.o.bby knuckles and a clammy skin. Nerulf stood rigid; then, as if forced against his will, he looked around, to discover himself face to face with a heceptor. He uttered a strangled yell and staggering backward flourished the sword Da.s.senach, with which he had been cutting reeds.

Dhrun and Glyneth fled away from the lakesh.o.r.e to the road, where they halted and looked back.

Out on the marsh Nerulf backed slowly away from the advancing heceptor who menaced him with arms on high, hands and fingers angled downwards. Nerulf tried to make play with the sword and pierced the heceptor's shoulder, to elicit a hiss of sad reproach.

The time had come. Dhrun called: "Da.s.senach! To me!"

The sword jerked from Nerulf's fingers and flew across the marsh to Dhrun's hand. Somberly he tucked it into its scabbard. The heceptor lurched forward, enfolded Nerulf and bore him screaming down into the muck.

With darkness upon them and the stars appearing in profusion, Dhrun and Glyneth climbed to the top of a gra.s.sy knoll a few yards from the road. They gathered armfuls of gra.s.s, made a pleasant bed and stretched out their weary bodies. For half an hour they watched the stars, big and softly white. Presently they became drowsy and, huddled together, slept soundly until morning.

After two comparatively uneventful days of travel, Dhrun and Glyneth arrived at a broad river, which Glyneth felt must surely be the Murmeil itself. A ma.s.sive stone bridge spanned the river and here the ancient brick road came to an end.

Before setting foot on the bridge Dhrun called out three times for the toll-taker, but none showed himself and they crossed the bridge unchallenged.

Now there were three roads from which to choose. One led east along the river bank; another proceeded upstream beside the river; a third wandered away to the north, as if it had no particular destination in mind.

Dhrun and Glyneth set off to the east, and for two days followed the river through landscapes and riverscapes of wonderful beauty. Glyneth rejoiced at the fine weather. "Think, Dhrun! If you were truly cursed with bad luck, the rain would drench our skins and there would be snow to freeze our bones!"

"I wish I could believe so."

"There's no doubt at all. And look yonder at the beautiful berries! Just in time for our lunch! Isn't that good luck?"

Dhrun was willing to be convinced. "It would seem so."

"Of course! We'll talk no more of curses." Glyneth ran to the thicket which bordered a small stream near where it tumbled down a declivity into the Murmeil.

"Wait!" cried Dhrun, "or we'll know bad luck for sure!"

He called out: "Does anyone forbid us these berries?"

There was no response and they ate their fill of ripe blackberries.

For a s.p.a.ce they lay resting in the shade. "Now that we're almost out of the forest, it's time to make plans," said Glyneth. "Have you thought of what we should do?"

"Yes indeed. We will travel here and there and try to discover my father and mother. If I am truly a prince, then we will live in a castle and I shall insist that you be made a princess as well. You shall have fine clothes, a carriage and also another cat like Pettis."

Glyneth, laughing, kissed Dhrun's cheek. "I'd like to live in a castle. We're sure to find your father and mother, since there are not all that many princes and princesses!"

Glyneth became drowsy. Her eyelids drooped and she dozed. Dhrun, becoming restless, went to explore a path which bordered the stream. He walked a hundred feet and looked back. Glyneth still lay asleep. He walked another hundred feet, and another. The forest seemed very still; the trees rose majestically high, taller than any Dhrun had seen before, to create a luminous green canopy far overhead.

The path crossed a rocky little hummock. Dhrun, climbing up to the top, found himself overlooking a tarn shaded beneath the great trees. Five nude dryads waded in the shallows of the tarn: slender creatures with rose-pink mouths and long brown hair, small b.r.e.a.s.t.s, slim thighs and unutterably lovely faces. Like fairies they showed no pubic hair; like fairies they seemed made of stuff less gross than blood and meat and bone.

For a minute Dhrun stared entranced; then he took sudden fright and slowly backed away.

He was seen. Tinkling little outcries of dismay reached his ears. Carelessly strewn along the bank, almost at Dhrun's feet, were the fillets which bound their brown hair; a mortal seizing such a fillet held the dryad in power, to serve his caprice forever, but Dhrun knew nothing of this.

One of the dryads splashed water toward Dhrun. He saw the drops rise into the air and sparkle in the sunlight, whereupon they became small golden bees, which darted into Dhrun's eyes and buzzed in circles, blotting out his sight.

Dhrun screamed in shock and fell to his knees. "Fairies, you have blinded me! I only chanced on you by mistake! Do you hear me?"

Silence. Only the sound of leaves stirring in the afternoon airs.

"Fairies!" cried Dhrun, tears running down his cheeks. "Would you blind me for so small an offense?"

Silence, definite and final.

Dhrun groped back along the trail, guided by the sound of the little stream. Halfway along the trail he met Glyneth, who, awakening and seeing no Dhrun, had come to find him. Instantly she recognized his distress and ran forward. "Dhrun! What is the trouble?"

Dhrun took a deep breath, and tried to speak in a courageous voice, which despite his efforts quavered and cracked. "I went along the trail; I saw five dryads bathing in a pool; they splashed bees into my eyes and now I can't see!" In spite of his talisman, Dhrun could barely restrain his grief.

"Oh Dhrun!" Glyneth came close. "Open your eyes wide; let me look."

Dhrun stared toward her face. "What do you see?"

Glyneth said haltingly: "Very strange! 1 see circles of golden light, one around the other, with brown in between."

"It's the bees! They've filled my eyes with buzzing and dark honey!"

"Dhrun, dearest Dhrun!" Glyneth hugged him and kissed him, and used every endearment she knew. "How could they be so wicked!"

"I know why," he said bleakly. "Seven years bad luck. I wonder what will happen next. You had better go away and leave me-"

"Dhrun! How can you say such a thing?"

"-so that if I fall in a hole, you need not fail in too."

"Never would I leave you!"

"That is foolishness. This is a terrible world, so I am discovering. It is all you can do to care for yourself, let alone me."

"But you are the one I love most in all the world! Somehow we'll survive! When the seven years is over there'll be nothing left but good luck forever!"

"But I'll be blind!" cried Dhrun, again with a quaver in his voice.

"Well, that's not sure either. Magic blinded you; magic will cure you. What do you think of that?"

"I hope that you're right." Dhrun clutched his talisman. "How grateful I am for my bravery, even though I can't be proud of it. I suspect that I am a fearful coward at heart."

"Amulet or none, you are the brave Dhrun, and one way or another, we shall get on in the world."

Dhrun reflected a moment, then brought out his magic purse. "Best that you carry this; with my luck a crow will swoop down and carry it away."

Glyneth looked into the purse and cried out in amazement. "Nerulf emptied it; now I see gold and silver and copper!"

"It is a magic purse, and we never need fear poverty, so long as the purse is safe."

Glyneth tucked the purse into her bodice. "I'll be as careful as careful can be." She looked up the trail. "Perhaps I should go to the pool and tell the dryads what a terrible mistake they made..."

"You'd never find them. They are as heartless as fairies, or worse. They might even do mischief on you. Let's leave this place."

Late in the afternoon they came upon the ruins of a Christian chapel, constructed by a missionary now long forgotten. To the side grew a plum tree and a quince tree, both heavy with fruit. The plums were ripe; the quince, though of a fine color, tasted acrid and bitter. Glyneth picked a gallon of plums, upon which they made a somewhat meager supper. Glyneth piled up gra.s.s for a soft bed among the toppled stones, while Dhrun sat staring out across the river.

"I think the forest is thinning," Glyneth told Dhrun. "It won't be long before we're safe among civilized folk. Then we'll have bread and meat to eat, milk to drink, and beds to sleep in."

Sunset flared over the Forest of Tantrevalles, then faded to dusk. Dhrun and Glyneth went to their bed; they became drowsy and slept.

Somewhat before midnight the half-moon rose, cast a reflection on the river, and shone in Glyneth's face, awakening her. She lay warm and drowsy, listening to the crickets and frogs... A far drumming sound caught her ear. It grew louder, and with it the jingle of chain and the squeak of saddle-leather. Glyneth raised up on her elbow, to see a dozen hors.e.m.e.n come pounding along the river road. They crouched low in their saddles with cloaks flapping behind; moonlight illuminated their antique gear and black leather helmets with flaring ear-pieces. One of the riders, head almost into his horse's mane, turned to look toward Glyneth. Moonlight shone into his pallid face; then the ghostly cavalcade was away. The drumming died into the distance and was gone.

Glyneth sank back into the gra.s.s and at last slept.

At dawn Glyneth roused herself quietly and tried to strike a hot spark from a piece of flint she had found, and so to blow up a fire, but met no success.

Dhrun awoke. He gave a startled cry, which he quickly stifled. Then after a moment he said: "It's not a dream after all."

Glyneth looked in Dhrun's eyes. "I still see the golden circles." She kissed Dhrun. "But don't brood, we'll find some way to cure you. Remember what I said yesterday? Magic gives, magic takes."

"I'm sure that you are right." Dhrun's voice was hollow. "In any case, there's no help for it." He rose to his feet and almost immediately tripped on a root and fell. Throwing out his arms, he caught the chain where hung his amulet and sent both chain and amulet flying.

Glyneth came on the run. "Are you hurt? Oh, your poor knee, it's all bleeding from the sharp stone!"

"Never mind the knee," croaked Dhrun. "I've lost my talisman; I broke the chain and now it's gone!"

"It won't run away," said Glyneth in a practical voice. "First I'll bandage your knee and then I'll find your talisman."

She tore a strip from her petticoat and washed the scratch with water from a little spring. "We'll just let that dry, then I'll wrap it nicely in a bandage and you'll be as frisky as ever."

"Glyneth, find my talisman, please! It's something which must not be put off. Suppose a mouse drags it away?"

"It would become the bravest of mice! The cats and owls would turn tail and flee." She patted Dhrun's cheek. "But I'll find it now... It must have gone in this direction." She dropped to her hands and knees, and looked here and there. Almost at once she saw the amulet. As luck would have it, the cabochon had fallen hard; against a stone and had shattered into a dozen pieces.

"Do you see it?" asked Dhrun anxiously.

"I think it's in this clump of gra.s.s." Glyneth found a small smooth pebble and pressed it into the setting. With the edge of a larger stone, she pushed down the f.l.a.n.g.e, so as to secure the pebble in place. "Here it is in the gra.s.s! Let me fix the chain." She bent the twisted link back into alignment and hung the amulet around Dhrun's neck, to his great relief. "There you are, as good as new."

The two breakfasted on plums and continued along beside the river. The forest straggled out to become a parkland of copses separated by meadows of long gra.s.ses waving in the wind. They came upon a deserted hut, shelter for those herdsmen who dared forage their flocks so close to the wolves, griswolds and bears of the forest.

Another mile, and another, and they came to a pleasant two-story stone cottage, with flower boxes under the upper windows. A stone fence surrounded a garden of forget-me-not wallflower, pansies and angel's pincushion. A pair of chimneys at either gable supported chimney pots high above the fresh clean thatch. Further along the road could be seen a village of gray stone cottages huddled in a swale. A crone in black gown and white ap.r.o.n weeded the garden. She paused to watch Dhrun and Glyneth approach, then gave her head a shake and returned to work.

As Glyneth and Dhrun neared the gate a plump and pretty woman of mature years stepped out upon the little porch. "Well then, children, what are you doing so far from home?"

Glyneth answered: "I'm afraid, mistress, that we're vagabonds. We have neither home nor family."

In surprise the woman looked back up the way the two had come. "But this road leads nowhere!"

"We've just come through the Forest of Tantrevalles."

"Then you bear charmed lives! What are your names? You may call me Dame Melissa."

"I am Glyneth and this is Dhrun. The fairies sent bees into his eyes and now he can't see."

"Ah! A pity! They are often cruel! Come here, Dhrun, let me see your eyes."

Dhrun stepped forward and Dame Melissa studied the concentric rings of gold and amber. "I know one or two trifles of magic, but not so much as a true witch, and I can do nothing for you."

"Perhaps you would sell us a bite of bread and cheese," Glyneth suggested. "We've eaten only plums today and yesterday."

"Of course, and you need not think of payment. Didas? Where are you? We have a pair of hungry children here! Bring milk and b.u.t.ter and cheese from the dairy. Come in, dears. Go back to the kitchen and I think we can find something nice."

When Dhrun and Glyneth had seated themselves at the scrubbed wooden table, Dame Melissa served them first bread and a rich soup of mutton and barley, then a tasty dish of chicken cooked with saffron and walnuts, and finally cheese and juicy green grapes.

Dame Melissa sat to the side sipping a tea brewed from the leaves of lemon verbena and smiled to watch them eat. "I see that you are both healthy young persons," she said. "Are you brother and sister?"

"It amounts to that," said Glyneth. "But in truth we're not related. We've both suffered troubles and we think ourselves lucky to be together, since neither of us has anyone else."

Dame Melissa said soothingly: "You're now in Far Dahaut, out of the dreadful forest, and I'm sure things will go better for you."

"I hope so. We can't thank you enough for the wonderful dinner, but we mustn't intrude upon you. If you'll excuse us, we'll be on our way."

"Whyever so soon? It's afternoon. I'm sure you're tired. There's a nice room for Glyneth just above, and a good bed in the garret for Dhrun. You shall have a supper of bread and milk and a sweet-cake or two, then you may eat apples before the fire and tell me your adventures. Then tomorrow, when you're well rested, you'll be on your way."

Glyneth hesitated and looked at Dhrun.

"Do stay," pleaded Dame Melissa. "Sometimes it's lonely here with no one but crotchety old Didas."

"I don't mind," said Dhrun. "Perhaps you can tell us where to find a powerful magician, to draw the bees from my eyes."

"I'll give the matter thought, and I'll ask Didas as well; she knows a bit of everything."

Glyneth sighed. "I'm afraid you'll spoil us. Vagabonds are not supposed to trouble over good food and soft beds."

"Just one night, then a good breakfast, and you can be on your way."

"Then we thank you again for your kindness."

"Not at all. It gives me pleasure to see such pretty children enjoying my house. I ask only that you do not molest Dame Didas. She is very old, and a trifle crabbed-even, I am sorry to say, a bit eery. But if you leave her be, she will not trouble you."

"Naturally, we will treat her with all politeness."

"Thank you, my dear. Now, why do you not go outside and enjoy the flower garden until supper time?"

"Thank you, Dame Melissa."