Read Online A Midsummer Tempest by Poul Anderson - Free Book Online

lovely in a ring to music zeemed like played upon my heart. I never zinnedwith ’em … own I’d liaked it, but I’m too hoamely for a Faerie lass. … Have I done ill in this, my loard?”
    “Say on,” Rupert told him quietly.
    “Well, skulkin’ hereawa in meager hoape o’ doin’ aught to help you or tha King, an’ yet not willin’ just to quit, go hoame, be shut for aye inzide tha dismal stall o’ Roundhead ways—an’ Christ, be preached at, too!—I came to theeazam woods in zearch o’ hares. There zome-one found me, an’ we spoake an’ spoake until tha daybreak flogged tha stars away; an’ afterward again by night—Your Highness, that’s how I got tha courage to strive on; that’s how I learned our Mis’ess Jennifer might have a mind to help in your escape.” (She covered her face.) “An’, short to zay, we hammered out a plan.”
    Will rose. “Well, loard, I gave my handshake in return, to promise you would come an’ hear them out. Tha’ will not foa’ce you—nay, tha’ couldn’t that—but honestly, I zee no other way than takin’ what small help tha’ve got to give. Pray, will you hark to them who’d fain be friends?”
    Rupert stood too. Jennifer scrambled up, clinging to his arm. The prince’s countenance was impassive, his tone steady: “I will.”
    “Oh, nay!” the girl pleaded in tears. “’Tis peril of our souls.”
    Rupert took both her shoulders, looked into her eyes, and said gently: “Not so. The Puritans have lied to thee. I’ve read, if thou’st not, the Historian. Not only dwellers in antiquity had good, and little ill, at Faerie hands, but wise and Christian men in modern times. Aye, even magic arts of certain kinds are lawful if they’re used with right intent. Recall the neighbors that thou knew’st in Cornwall. Like Will’s, did they not follow olden ways?” (She nodded dumbly.) “And dost thou think them damned on that account?” (Slowly, she shook her head.) “Then do not now.” (She fought forth a smile for him.) “Good lass! What heart thou hast!”
    He released her and turned to the other man. It exploded from him: “Go summon, as thou wilt, thy miracle.”
    “Thy free consent has served to call us here.”
    That singing tone made Rupert whirl about. Two stood before the stone. Tall they were, uncannily beautiful of form and ivory features. Their eyes shone as if by inner moonlight. The outer radiance sparkled on high crowns of curious shape, on the glitter of the male tunic, the sheen of the female gown. Above them, behind them, flickering around their pale hair, danced and glowed small winged shapes.
    At their feet squatted one more solid, broad and thick-muscled—though standing upright he would scarcely have reached Rupert’s belt buckle. His head was round, snub-nosed, pointy-eared, shaggy; eyes glinted over a raffish grin. He wore leather and leaves.
    Will louted low and stepped back. Jennifer joined him within the shadows. Her hands were folded, her lips moved silently. Rupert trod forward. He bent his neck the least bit, for the least moment, then met the unhuman gazes and said into the hush: “I think I do address King Oberon.”
    “Thou dost,” the male answered.
    The man bowed to the female. “Then likewise Queen Titania,” he said.
    “Be welcome to our Half-World kingdom, Prince,” went the melody of her voice.
    “I thank your Majesties.” Rupert hesitated. “The rightful title? You know that presently I serve King Charles, and save that he unbind me from mine oath, I’ll hold me free of others—under God.”
    The royal pair neither fled nor flinched at the Name. Jennifer began to ease. Will saw, and smiled at her. They looked back to the glade, where only Rupert and the horses seemed quite real.
    “Thou seest we pass the test,” boomed the dwarfish one. “Wouldst try us more? Why, then I’ll list for thee the saints and angels. Their catalogue rolls trippingly—Walburga, Knut, Swithin, Cuthbert, Cunegonde,