The Kingdom - Clare B Dunkle - Hollow Kingdom 01 - The Hollow Kingdom
“Then came the night the old folks had been waiting on. Miss Elizabeth came running into the house, screaming and crying, and Miss Adele was nowhere to be seen. It seems Miss Adele had been marching up a wooded path with a stick in her hand, whacking at the tree trunks and calling on the goblins, when all of a sudden a whole crowd of creatures leapt from the shadows around her. Then a tall man in a black cloak and hood stepped to her side. He lifted her up in his arms, and the whole crowd melted into the shadows and was gone, with only the sounds of Miss Adele’s screams left behind them to show where they had been.
“Old Roberts stood up looking pale as death, and he called for his master of hounds. The two of them went off with lanterns and the pack on a leash. And when they returned without her in the wee hours of the night, old Roberts called the staff together, and he bade them all good-bye. ‘My daughter is dead,’ he told them, ‘and don’t think you’ll see her again.’ Then he took Miss Elizabeth into the carriage with him, and two good strong lads for protection, and they rolled off into the night. And that was the last Hallow Hill ever saw of the old master or his daughter.”
“Then it’s true!” cried Kate in horror. “Adele did become the King’s Wife!” The entire group turned toward her, stunned. “The goblin King’s Wife,” she hurriedly explained. “Adele had to marry the goblin King, and that creature is her son. He wasn’t lying to us after all, Em.”
Her dinnertime companions couldn’t have looked more astounded. Even Emily gave her sister a baffled look. Hugh Roberts took off his spectacles and polished them with his napkin.
“What on earth are you talking about, Miss Winslow?” he demanded.
“I’m talking about terrible danger,” insisted Kate urgently. “Please, you have to send me away from here! They got Adele,” she said with a shudder, “and who knows how long she survived down there, but they’re not going to get me.”
“You think goblins are trying to get you?” asked her guardian in surprise.
“I know he is,” answered Kate firmly. “He told me so.” Hugh Roberts put his spectacles back on and stared at her over them. Then he turned to her sister.
“Miss Emily, you went on that adventure, too. Do you know anything about this?” His younger charge shrugged and shook her head.
“Of course she doesn’t,” said Kate. “He told me last night. He said his first wife died childless, and I’m ideal. But they can’t see in the daytime,” she added, planning rapidly. “If I leave now, maybe I can travel beyond their reach by nightfall.” She began calculating how long it would take to pack and what she would need to bring. The others at the table exchanged apprehensive glances, their meal quite forgotten.
“Prim? Celia? Nighttime callers?” demanded Hugh. They looked at him and sorrowfully shook their heads. “Miss Emily?”
“She had a nightmare,” whispered Emily. “She was talking in her sleep. I heard her.”
“No one else saw him,” declared Kate impatiently. Really, they were wasting her time.
“How convenient,” murmured her guardian dryly.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” exclaimed Kate. “I know it seems impossible, but you just have to believe me. Adele’s your own relation, after all. Haven’t you learned anything from her story?”
“Miss Winslow,” remarked Hugh Roberts distantly, “we don’t concern ourselves with old gossip. We live in the nineteenth century now. Not even Mrs. Bigelow really believes her goblin tales.”
Kate glanced, surprised, at the housekeeper, who was watching her anxiously. The pleasant woman gave an embarrassed shrug and looked away. Kate paused, deeply frustrated, and looked around the table at the others. They all looked as if they wished they were somewhere else. She took a deep breath and tried again.
“I understand your doubts,” she said reasonably. “I can see why you thought we invented our walk home the other night. There are parallels to Adele’s story, of course. It would be easy to think that we had heard it and decided to make up our own, but I promise you that we didn’t. I would be happy to show you proof if only I had it. But please believe me,” she insisted as calmly as she could. “I’m in terrible danger. I’m not lying to you.”
Her guardian rose and began to pace the room slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned to look at her several times. Kate looked back as sincerely as she knew how.
“I do believe you,” he remarked finally. “I can see that you’re not lying.”
Kate let her breath out in relief. “Then you know I’m in danger,” she concluded. “You’ll send me away.”
“No, Miss Winslow,” countered Hugh Roberts. “I do not know that you’re in danger, but I do know that you’re sincere in your delusions. It’s obvious that your nerves have given way and left you in a frantic state. You’ve made some sort of break with reality.”
Kate rose to her feet, astounded. “Are you saying that I’ve gone mad?” she demanded.
Her guardian looked dismayed. “There’s no need to use so harsh a term,” he protested. “But we felt even before this strange outburst that your nerves were showing severe strain. You must admit, Miss Winslow, that you’ve given us cause for concern.”
Kate stared at each of them one by one. Mrs. Bigelow, fiddling anxiously with her fork and knife. Aunt Celia, face hidden behind her handkerchief. Aunt Prim, staring at the pattern on the platter with the most intense concentration. Emily, pushing a few stray peas around and around with her fork. Kate looked back up to meet her guardian’s pale-eyed stare.
“You’ve certainly given me cause for concern, too,” she remarked bitterly. She turned on her heel and walked out of the room.
After a half hour of frantic searching, Emily caught up with Kate. Her sister was lying in the middle of the tree circle, staring at the white clouds overhead. She sat up as Emily approached and began gathering the small lilies that grew within her reach.
“Oh, Kate, I’m so sorry,” Emily wailed miserably. “I do believe you! I do! You’re not really mad, are you?” she quavered. “I mean, I understand if you want to be …”
“Don’t be a complete goose, Em,” said Kate disgustedly. “The rest of them are bad enough.” She told her sister about the events of the previous night. Emily hugged her knees and listened carefully, not saying a single word.
“Oh, Kate,” she breathed when her sister was finished. “Your very first proposal.” Kate stared unbelievingly at the round, solemn eyes and flopped onto her back, laughing loudly. When she recovered, she attacked her little sister and tickled her unmercifully.
“How dare you,” she choked, “call that travesty a proposal! I simply can’t believe it! What an idiotic thing to say!”
“Well,” her sister sheepishly amended, brushing grass off her dress, “it was sort of like a proposal, anyway. Do you think he loves you?” she added, wide-eyed again.
“Please,” groaned Kate, lying back to look up at the clouds. “He’s not even human! He’s a grotesque monster! Weren’t you paying attention?”
“But he’s royalty! And he can do magic,” her sister pointed out excitedly. “Think how handy if you can’t light your candle in the dark.”
“And that’s exactly where I would be—in the dark.” They both sobered up, thinking about Mrs. Bigelow’s tale of the dank caves under the Hill. Kate shivered. “Imagine!” she said. “Poor Adele, shut up in a hole like that. I’d never survive it, Em. I’d die, I just know I would.” Emily took her hand and squeezed it affectionately.
“I’m sorry,” she said sympathetically. “It does sound terrible. But I’ll help. What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Kate replied gloomily. “I’ve been trying to think of a plan. I know good and well that they won’t let me near the horses, and if I try to take the dogcart, they really will think I’m crazy. We’ll just have to find some way to convince Mr. Roberts and the aunts that the goblin is real.”
“I don’t know why they don’t believe you,” commented Emily. “It makes perfect sense to me.”
“We live in the nineteenth century now,” Kate mimicked her guardian in a lofty tone. Then she giggled.
“If he knows that, why’s he still wearing a wig?” demanded Emily. “I wonder if he’s completely bald without it.”
“Don’t you dare ask him,” warned her sister, standing up. “We’d better go home now and face the whispering aunts. We’ll stay together in your room tonight, and maybe I can find some way to convince them tomorrow.”
But even this simple plan proved impossible.
“You want us to do what?” Kate gasped to Prim. That dour woman held a letter out to her.
“I want you and Emily to take this message up to the Hall for me,” Prim replied defensively. “You’ll stay with Mrs. Bigelow tonight.”
“But Aunt Prim,” spluttered Kate, “you can’t possibly mean it! It’s already dark out there!”
“I certainly do mean it,” her aunt said forcefully. “Kate, I know you’re afraid of—of the dark—but Hugh suggested this, and I think it will help. You need to face your fears.”
“What?” gasped Kate. “You actually expect me to walk out this door—and face them?”
“Kate, get hold of yourself!” the old woman said firmly. “We simply can’t have another day like today.”
“Oh, you won’t!” cried Kate, snatching the letter from her. “You won’t have any more days like today ever again!” The two girls stumbled out into the night.
“This is just splendid!” snapped Kate, clutching Emily’s hand tightly. “This is simply perfect!” She stopped short at the gravel path. “Now what on earth are we going to do?”
“Run?” suggested Emily uncertainly.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Em! They have horses.”
They entered the forest. The moon, almost full, climbed a nearly cloudless sky, and Kate gathered courage from its pale rays. Bright moonlight dappled the path before them with silver spots, but under the trees, the shadows were black and ominous. After only a couple of minutes, they heard just what they had been afraid to hear: the creaking of saddles and the ringing of hooves on stone. Voices behind them began to laugh and howl.
“Come on!” Kate cried, and they did their best to run. They stumbled over roots and caught their clothes on branches. Kate lost a shoe and ran on in her stocking. The horses were almost upon them. She dragged Emily off the path into the deep shadows beside it. The horses trotted by.
“Quick!” gasped Kate. “They missed us!” She jumped to her feet with her sister in tow and ran across the path into the woods beyond. About ten feet off the path, a clearing opened up. A little woman worked in the moonlight, filling her basket with herbs and humming melodiously.
“Help!” panted the girls, dashing up. Old Agatha’s broad face and snapping black eyes turned toward them.
“Oh, look!” she cried, clapping her hands and dropping her herb-filled basket. “It’s my two pretty ladies! Now, help from what, my dears?”
Kate stopped short in horror, but Emily burst out, “Agatha, save us! The goblins are coming!” This was a rather silly speech to make, but the little woman took their trembling hands kindly enough.
“Not yet, dears,” she soothed. “Who’s been chasing my ladies?” As if in reply, they heard hooves on the path again. Kate pointed mutely toward the sound.
“Oh, that!” Agatha chuckled. “They’re no goblins! Just a couple of clodhopping humans out for a moonlight ride.”
“But they’re after us!” cried Emily. Kate nodded vigorously. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it stuck fast.
“Not for long,” declared the little woman. “Just stand still now.” She reached into one of her capacious pockets and pulled out some sort of powder, carefully patting it down into the hollow of her hand. The horses were almost upon them. Agatha took a deep breath and blew the powder toward them. The air was filled with the sound of terrified neighing and plunging, riders’ confused shouts, and snapping branches. The two horses tore off down the path to the house as if demons were after them, their riders clinging to them more by accident than skill.
Old Agatha watched them go, chuckling with satisfaction. Then she bent and retrieved her basket and went on with her work. The girls stared after the horses in amazement. The exhaustion of the sudden fright and quick run caught up with them, and they stood speechless for a moment, drawing in shaky breaths.
“We’re so excited about the wedding, dear,” Agatha assured the petrified Kate, her nimble fingers working in the weeds at their feet. “And a prize you are, to be sure, after the King’s last wife. What a dull, drab thing she was, poor mite! He certainly didn’t deserve that. And a fine King he is, too, my dear, though I should say it, who was his old nurse, you know. He’s the best magician we’ve had in many a generation, though there do be some who say he’s too elf-pretty to be a proper king.”
“Mm,” said Kate stupidly, too horrified to reply, but Emily was quite interested in the little woman’s speech. She had no difficulty, as usual, in thinking of things she wanted to know.
“What do you mean, elf-pretty?” she asked the busy Agatha. “And why doesn’t the King just marry another goblin? Doesn’t anyone at home want to marry him?”
“Oh, they couldn’t, dear, you know,” old Agatha replied. “Goblin women don’t bear well. Many goblins marry outside for to bring in fresh blood, you see. And the King, always. It’s the ancient way of our race. Elves and humans for the King, though there’s been the occasional dwarf,” she added proudly. “And that’s the way it’s always been for us. The high families marries the elves and dwarves or a pretty human girl, and the beast folk marries whatever of the animal folk they fancies. The cat tribe, the dog tribe, eagles or bears, anyone who’ll be a good mother to goblin young. That’s why goblins look like everything on earth.”
The two girls pondered this extremely peculiar statement. Emily was not to be thwarted, however.
“What do you mean, elf-pretty?” she asked again. Agatha stopped her work and stretched.
“The Kings tended to marry elves, back when the elves still lived. They’re all gone now, the elves. I saw the last when I was a child. She was this King’s grandmother, and he’s like her in ways. He’s hardly got a single animal trait about him, and that’s odd in a King. No wings or claws, no feathers or fangs, and that makes folks call him elf-pretty. Oh, they were our cousins, you know, the elves, though there was no love lost between us. They were pretty to look at, but we were the stronger race. We captured their women whenever we pleased, and the goblins learned their magic. This King, now”—she nodded to Kate—“he knows all about elf magic. It’s a powerful good to the goblin folk to have a strong King.”
A strong King. That was just the problem. “Yes, well,” Kate said, managing to find her voice at last, “Emily and I had better be going now. Thank you for your help.”
