Arcadia

28

The light worked for Jenkins, but not for Rosalind. When she walked through the patch of light she felt an uncomfortable sensation, rather like something hard and metallic being dragged through her entire body. It was so unpleasant that she lost her concentration, staggered and stubbed her foot on an old root sticking out from the ground. With a cry of distress and confusion she pitched forward, through the light and onto the earth. She lay on the ground, breathing in the sweet soft smell of decaying leaves. She was still in Anterwold. The light no longer worked. She was stuck.

But Jenkins had vanished and she noticed that the light was now much dimmer, flickering like a light bulb that was about to blow. Through it she could just see a faint outline of someone. She let out a cry of alarm and got up, desperate to try again, but before she could get anywhere near, the light flickered out completely.

It was gone. No light. No Jenkins. Now she was really in trouble.

She sank to the ground. Once she had taken the decision to go home, she realised she desperately wanted to see her mum and dad and even her brother. She even wanted to go back to school.

So now what was she going to do?

A strange sound brought her back to reality; if that was what it really was. A little like a howl, or a roar, or a screech. Certainly a person, but it sounded more like rage and fury than pain or distress, coming from behind a small group of trees. Rosalind considered, then decided she must find out. Whoever it was might know something about the light. Or at least how to get back to the party. Anything was better than being stuck alone in the middle of this forest.

She tiptoed as quietly as she could towards the sound and came to a small clearing. There was not much to see except for the sort of glimmer you get from a candle, coming from the general direction of the noise. In the background she thought she could just make out a hut, but she wasn’t sure.

‘Hello?’ she called out. ‘Is anyone there?’

The sobbing and howling stopped instantly; there was a pause and then a rustle of clothes as a hunched figure on the ground rose up in the gloom and approached. A lantern was thrust close to her face. Then there was a loud sniff.

It was Aliena. Rosalind recognised the voice immediately, but she was no longer the confident, self-possessed star of the concert. She was now just an upset girl, even if less upset than Rosalind, who instantly felt sympathetic.

‘What’s the matter?’

Another strangled noise. ‘Rambert. My teacher. I think he’s dead.’

‘Goodness. What happened?’

‘He was furious at me. About my singing.’

‘Why? It was lovely.’

‘It was. Yes, indeed it was. I was expecting congratulations.’ She snorted bitterly. ‘But he didn’t like my intonation at the end of one passage, thought my variation in another wasn’t proper. He never said “well done”, or “that was really good”. Straight into the criticisms. How I’d never be good enough...’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘So I hit him. He hasn’t moved since. I think he may be dead.’

‘Don’t you think you should find out?’

‘I’m too frightened.’

‘What did you hit him with?’

‘A frying pan.’

Rosalind began to laugh nervously. Aliena looked at her, then laughed herself. ‘He went down like an old bottle. You should have seen the look on his face.’

‘Still, if you’ve killed him... I mean, that’s serious.’

‘Will you go and have a look? I really don’t want to go back in there.’

Rosalind wasn’t overjoyed at the prospect of seeing a dead body either, but she nodded. Aliena led the way, occasionally telling her to be careful, pointing out the steps and the thin wooden door.

‘Do you live here?’ Rosalind asked, trying to disguise her surprise at how bare and primitive it was.

‘Yes,’ Aliena replied. ‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ She handed over the lamp and pointed. ‘Go on.’

Rosalind cautiously stepped over the threshold and held the lamp high above her head. There, slumped on the ground, was a body, weedy and small, looking very dead indeed. Rosalind glanced back at Aliena, then gingerly approached, kneeling down beside the corpse, which let out a loud belch, exuding a miasma of alcohol fumes into her face. ‘Oh, goodness!’ Rosalind said, leaning backwards so quickly she almost toppled over. ‘You didn’t kill him. He’s blind drunk. He reminds me of Uncle Charlie.’

An emboldened diva walked over, disguising her relief. ‘What a pity. Shall I have another go?’

‘No. It’s not a pity. You know it’s not. You’ve given him a nasty bruise, though.’

‘That’s something for him to remember me by, then. I’ve had enough. I’m leaving.’

‘Where will you go?’

Aliena evidently hadn’t thought of that. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said eventually. ‘What about you? What are you doing here?’

‘I’m looking for someone.’ No point making explanations complicated, she thought.

‘Who?’

‘I don’t know, really. I danced with him. He’s very — well, he’s very nice.’

‘Very nice?’ Aliena said, mimicking her voice a bit too well. ‘So very nice you chase him into the forest at night wearing your finest clothes? That sort of very nice?’

Rosalind blushed.

‘Ah-ha!’

‘I liked him.’

‘Did he like you?’

Rosalind’s face fell.

‘Where does he come from?’

It fell further. ‘He said he lived over there,’ she gestured vaguely, ‘in the forest.’

‘Nobody lives in the forest. That’s why it’s called the forest. Otherwise it would be a wood. Do you even know his name?’

‘Pamarchon.’

Aliena stopped dead. ‘Pamarchon? You have fallen in love with Pamarchon?’

‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘You don’t know who he is?’

‘Of course I don’t.’

‘Then let me tell you. Pamarchon, son of Isenwar, is the most dangerous and wanted criminal in the whole land. He murdered his uncle to steal Willdon, then became a fugitive and now leads a band of cutthroats and murderers.’

‘Surely not!’ Rosalind said. ‘He has such a nice smile. Most of the time. He’s very...’

‘Nice, I know. You said. Don’t start making up romantic ideas about him. If he is really Pamarchon, then he’s dangerous.’

‘He has such kind eyes, and gentle manners.’

‘A man of great contradictions, then. But what if you find him and discover he is really just a short, dumpy little fellow with bad breath and a liking for slitting people’s throats? That all this romance was made by the light and the music and the Festivity? When did you meet him?’

‘The moment I arrived this afternoon, and again at the Festivity. I was terribly rude to him, it seems. Then after you had sung...’

‘Ah!’ exclaimed Aliena smugly. ‘It is my doing, then. My singing does indeed make the old seem young, the ugly beautiful and the mean charming. It is a special ability I have,’ she confided.

‘Along with modesty?’

Aliena glared, but not seriously. She was in a remarkably good mood now that she knew she was not a murderer. ‘Along with that, yes. Do you really want to find him?’

Rosalind thought. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do. I can’t possibly have been that wrong. There must be some mistake. Besides, if people mistake him for some murderer, he might be in danger. He needs to be warned and saved...’

Aliena rolled her eyes. ‘Heaven save me!’ she said. ‘This isn’t going to end well. Still, if that’s what you want, we can go together.’

‘Where?’

‘To the forest, dearest Rosalind. You wish to find the man of your dreams, I wish to escape the man of my nightmares.’

‘Just a moment,’ Rosalind said. ‘I don’t know that I should. I mean, it would be rude just to leave without saying goodbye. Besides, I have to get home.’

‘I thought you wanted to find this man?’

‘I do.’

‘Then go and find him. You can come back easily enough when you discover you don’t like him after all. Or he doesn’t like you.’

‘Well...’ Rosalind was astonished by herself. Why was she even listening to this girl?

‘We both need to leave this place, and I was a little worried about being on my own,’ Aliena said. ‘But with my dearest, oldest friend with me, what harm could possibly come to either of us?’

‘You said the forest was full of criminals and outlaws.’

‘Oh, no. Hardly any. Please come with me. We can sleep under the stars, pick fruit from the trees and mushrooms from the ground. “For the land cares for the virtuous, and ever will.”’

‘Is that another one of your quotations?’

‘Of course.’

‘And you’ll really help me?’

‘Naturally.’

Rosalind glanced back into the trees to the place where she had seen the light; there was nothing there and, she realised, it hadn’t been in the place where she had arrived anyway. What was the point of staying here? If she really wanted to find her way home, she was as likely to find it in the forest as she was here. In fact, it was better to assume that she wouldn’t find it. That she was, barring a miracle of some sort, stuck. If that was the case, she was, for the first time in her life, not only free to do whatever she wanted, but obliged to look after herself. She wasn’t certain if that was frightening or wonderful, but it was surely different. On the other hand...

‘I’d love to,’ she said, gesturing at her dress. ‘But I can hardly go wandering through the forest like this.’

‘Of course you can’t! Besides, if you’re wrong about him, then you might not get a friendly welcome. It’s said they kidnap people and hold them to ransom. You don’t want that. Take off the wig and the mask and I will find you something.’

‘You’re a bit short.’

Aliena thought, then smiled and pointed at the now snoring form on the floor. ‘That is true. But Rambert is pretty much the same size as you, I think. His clean clothes are in the corner. I know; I have to wash them. You won’t look elegant, but you’ll be comfortable and by the time I’m done, no one will know who you are, and that’s the important thing.’