It stretched on for some time.
“Ma,” said Mr. Eiger.
“Hmm?”
“Mr. Ash wants to know if you heard any legends about Fenwick from your old granny.”
“Yes, yes. I was thinking. Don’t rush me.”
The three younger folk exchanged unspoken glances. The silence returned.
Then, as if stirring from a dream, the old woman began to weave a tale.
“My granny said there were fae here once. A long time ago, before the river sank beneath the earth. When Fenwick was no more than a small seed sown in the vastness of the Suffolk coast.
“The fairy folk would dance at the full moon, their music drifting upon the night air, but few among the humans had eyes that would see or ears that would hear.
“There was one, a traveler, a scribe by trade.” Magda paused. “I forget his name.”
“Alwin,” said Barnaby automatically.
Magda nodded. “Yes, Alwin. And his fae bride, Lyra.” She drifted off for a moment.
“They married?” Excitement bubbled up inside Barnaby. This was new. Perhaps it had been mentioned in the missing pages.
“The maiden Lyra,” continued Old Magda, ignoring his interruption, “departed her ethereal realm for the sake of true love, a magic far stronger than that of her people. So moved was she by the wonder of it, that she blessed the site where they had first met. At least, that’s how I remember it. It has been many years.”
“Do you know where this place is?” asked Barnaby, unable to keep the eagerness from his voice. “What sort of blessing was it?” he wanted to know. “Could a visitor feel its effects? Would it feel like an itch at first?”
Miss Tully touched his sleeve. Barnaby turned to see her shaking her head slowly. He was rushing poor Magda. He had promised to be patient and kind. His desire for answers had run away with him. Barnaby turned to apologize to Magda.
He knew at once it was too late.
Magda stared at Miss Tully blankly. Then relief washed across her features. “Why, Janet, it’s been a while.”
Barnaby turned to Miss Tully in confusion. Who was Janet?
She mouthed the silent answer. My mother.
“But who is this?” Magda tilted her head at Barnaby. “Where is Tully? You haven’t thrown him over, have you?” Magda looked Barnaby up and down appraisingly. “Fine lad, though. A bit pale. Not local, I gather.” Her wrinkles made room for a knowing smile. She elbowed Miss Tully. “I see the way he looks at you. Oh, he blushes! Such a deep pink! A learned man, is he? They are usually awkward around women. Don’t be discouraged, dear. This one will follow you to the ends of the earth.”
His soul laid bare by the old woman’s words, Barnaby felt a rush of heat surge up through his chest and onto the canvas of his throat and cheeks.
Magda turned to stir the stew once more. Round and round, her thoughts her own.
“Ma,” Mr. Eiger said gently. “We have visitors.”
Magda turned and scowled. “Don’t want no visitors. Leave me alone. What do you bring strangers into my house for, Bren? Can’t an old woman have time to herself?”
Barnaby, who had been looking for an excuse to flee the cottage under the bloom of embarrassment, stood at once. “So sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for your time.” He almost knocked over his chair in his haste to be out the door, where he waited, appalled and agitated, for Miss Tully to say her goodbyes.
Chapter Six
“Well, that was very interesting,” said Miss Tully, as they began the long walk home, her hand noticeably absent from his arm.
Barnaby had no words.
“Tis a pity Magda did not tell us more about the blessing. If Alwin and Lyra really met near where the Queen’s Barque stands today, Mr. Brewster would be delighted.”
