bhchapterIV

“Ouf!”
   “What’s that supposed to mean?” James asked.
   “She’s nice enough, I suppose. And respectable…but a little too[overwhelming.”
   “Overwhelming is just the word. Now, I’m supposing you want to see the dressmaker she talked about?”
   “You suppose correctly. Besides, that boy outside is theoretically still looking after our horses.”
   “Good Lord, so he is!” James vaulted to his feet. “I’ll be back in a second!” He was gone instantly, and Lily laughed as she locked the door behind her, following James.
   The boy was still standing outside, but he was tapping his foot impatiently and reaching his hand out for the bracelet Lily had left attached to the saddlehorn. He snatched his hand away quickly when the two stepped outside, and with a sinister glare, James handed him another penny and waved him away.
   “You shouldn’t have left that bracelet there,” he remonstrated as soon as Lily had swung herself upon her horse’s back. “It was bound to have been stolen.”
   “No,” Lily shot back. “It’s one of those lovely Muggle objects that have been bewitched. He’d have put his hand through it every time he touched it.”
   “Say, isn’t that illegal?” James asked, frowning, as they turned their horses towards the town square. “I mean, you can’t bewitch Muggle things, can you?”
   “Yes, you can,” Lily laughed. “This is the twelfth century; that law hasn’t been made yet.”
   James rolled his eyes. “You’ll be burned at the stake, though.”
   “Yes,” Lily nodded. “I always wanted to know what the Flame Freezing Charm felt like, and I might have a chance at finding out.”
   “Mental,” James mumbled, but aloud he said “Are we going up to London today or not?”
   “Ye-es—no. No. We’ll have more time tomorrow. I’ll just buy a girdle or something today—something to make these robes look—er—well, more twelfth-century than they do.”
   “Good idea,” James nodded.
   The clothing store was very simple; it specialized in linen clothing, and there were very few things in there besides cream and brown overdresses. However, there were a few large sashes and girdles, and Lily bought a brown sash and woven belt to wrap around the golden robes she was wearing; James was outfitted with a leather belt that also held his sword. Neither of them bothered with shoes; not may people did pay attention to shoes, and those they could buy in London.
   There was not much to see in the square, besides a rabble of children washing their hands in a well and several ladies gossiping at market stands dotted everywhere. People were packing up their things, though, and there wasn’t much of the noisy clamor that usually prevailed at marketplaces.
   They picked up a few loaves of bread, three potatoes, some spices, a clove of garlic, and several pieces of meat, and, turning around, they headed for what was temporarily ‘home’.
   It was the easiest thing in the world to say that they weren’t feeling up to eating anything after their journey to their hostess, and after she and her page-boy nephew had bustled away, Lily locked the door, pulled out her wand, and conjured up a cauldron, a bucked of clear, clean, cold water, and a portable fire which she placed underneath the cauldron, first making sure the table on which she placed the fire and cauldron was in no danger of burning.
   Splashing most of the water into the cauldron, she pinched several spices from their wrappings and threw them on the surface and waited till they dispersed. Nodding, she pointed her wand at the potatoes, which cut themselves up and dumped themselves into the cauldron along with some salt and pepper from her wand. Slicing up the beef thinly, she spread the slices so that they floated thickly on top of the water and potatoes; squeezing the garlic clove was done in a matter of minutes, and she scraped the garlic into the makeshift pot.
   James grinned. “That does smell good.”
   “Thank you,” she accepted. “It should be. Conjure up a barrier in front of the door for me, will you? I don’t want that lady asking questions.”
   He nodded and waved his wand, muttering a few words; a bubble-like glutinous matter burst from his wand and shaped itself around the door, moulding itself into the frame itself and disappearing.
   “There. Good enough?”
   “I trust your magic.”
   “Lily,” he groaned, “for heaven’s sake, don’t say that word so loudly! This isn’t the twentieth century!”
   “Okay, okay. Just so you’ll stop nagging. And I won’t use it in London, unless we’re in deep cow manure. Satisfied?”
   “I will be satisfied,” James grinned, “when you let me taste what’s in that cauldron. I’m simply drooling over here.”
   Lily laughed. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
   With a quick motion, he was standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist. “I love you, Lil,” he said in a singsong way of talking.
   She smiled and leaned her head against his chest. “I’m awfully happy that you do.”
   The next morning, they woke up early; for once, Lily wasn’t the one pushing James out of bed. He threw his clothes on at the same time she did, and by the time they were leaving the house and getting their horses out of the small stables belonging to the hostel’s owner, the lady was just cleaning up downstairs with a mop and a broom. She looked at them oddly as they went out, and Lily was aware of a hard stare piercing her back.
   “Oh, well.” She shrugged it off. “She can’t hurt us very well, can she? After all, we’re wizards, and she’s a common Muggle.”
   They dashed off to London, arriving there just as the shops were opening. By asking around, they found a clothing-store usually patronized by the nobility, and they headed towards it.
   The fashion then was, for women, a bliaut, a dress fitted to the torso and loose from the waist down; the sleeves were long, usually down to the wearer’s knees or farther, and there usually was a girdle fastened around the waist. Men wore almost the same thing; though it was shorter, reaching only to the knees, and the sleeves weren’t as long. Both sexes wore cloaks, and many had hoods as well.
   Lily pushed James over to the part of the store carrying men’s clothing, and soon they had picked out an elegant dark red bliaut with golden embroidered trimmings, a pair of leather shoes, and a cream-coloured cloak with the same golden embroidery on the edges.
   He insisted on picking out Lily’s apparel. He’d let her pick out her shoes, since they all were the same style—leather with a pointed toe—but the gown she chose was going to be his affair for once.
   James riffled through many of the pieces of clothing the owner carried, but finally he saw one he knew she’d look absolutely lovely in. Dark green crushed velvet with the same golden embroidery as on his own, it had a golden belt and trim around the collar. When she tried it on and modeled it in front of him, it fit her like a lady’s glove, and he nodded.
   “Don’t even bother taking it off. You’re wearing that no matter what, and see if all the men in that square don’t turn and look at you.”
   Lily blushed. “James—“
   “What—Ja-ames? You are beautiful, and I’m going to make it my mission in life to make you believe that,” he said emphatically, slapping his money down on the counter for the shopkeeper to greedily stuff inside his clothing.
   He led her out of the store proudly, completely aware of the admiring looks she was receiving from both men and women alike, and also disappointedly conscious of the fact that Lily wasn’t noticing the stares. He wished she would; it was almost ridiculous, the way she didn’t realize anything extraordinary, exotic, or breath-taking about herself. As he held out a hand for her to faux lean on as she mounted her horse, he heard something from his right that couldn’t but be mistaken as a sniff. Turning, he found himself faced with about five horses and their riders.
   Lily, smiling at her husband, had allowed him to help her onto her horse, and just as James had swung himself onto his own, she had arranged herself to sit side-saddle, so that her train barely missed sweeping the ground. As she looked up, though, a splash of color caught her eye, and she turned her head in the same direction James was looking.
   Closing her eyes lazily, she tilted her head to one side, weighing the nobles—for such they must be—before her.
   The lord and lady at the head of the spangled parade were the gaudiest of them all, and as a result the most important. The lord was encompassed in an outfit of blue linen, with glass ornaments hanging from a golden belt. He wore a sword, decked out with a sheath festooned in paste jewels, and a large chain that hung around his neck was bedecked with a large cross almost the size of his horse. His hair, black and shining, was swept backwards and hung down his spine.
   The lady—most probably his wife—wore a scarlet dress, belted loosely around her waist with gold leaves, and her fingers were covered with rings. A thin chain wore a cross about half the size of her husband’s, and golden brown hair was covered with a white veil, fastened with a chain from which dangled obviously glass gems. The only thing about her that Lily admired were her almost golden eyes, her hair, though not its ridiculously curly arrangement, and her hands, long and fine from laziness. The lord held no attraction for her whatsoever; he was inclined to be fat, had no sense of what color clashed with which, and didn’t look as if he had ever needed to handle his sword in his life.
   Nevertheless, as they inclined their heads towards the couple, Lily did the same, and James followed suit. Immediately afterwards, the female of the pair burst into torrents of speech.
   “I remember you—you were at Lady Tennent’s gala last month. Oh! I’ve got so much to tell you—you can’t believe how much happened since then. Lord Bassen performed suicide!” she said in a whisper, leaning towards Lily. “His wife’s almost crazy with grief—just think, the church refused to bury him! They say it’s silly that they should bury someone that took his own life. And we had a magician in here last week—just think, he said we were all doomed and that our palace would blow away into the winds as soon as we were dead! We can’t get a decent servant now, think of that!—“
   The man interrupted her. “I think,” he said, glancing up and down Lily’s figure, “that you two should join us at our manor for dinner. I am sure I would not but enjoy your company.”
   Lily cast a quick look over to James, who shrugged—he knew the lady had obviously mistaken them for someone else. She made up her mind instantly.
   “We would be delighted to accept your hospitality,” Lily said imperiously, and the lady flashed a bright smile at them and turned her horse and parade around a street corner; Lily and James rode with them at the front, Lily grinding her teeth at the sound of bagpipes floating from a member of the parade that obviously hadn’t studied the art of making non-eardrum-piercing music come out of the bagpipes.
   The manor (or “palace”, termed by the lady) was large enough, once they had been leisurely riding for one hour to get to it; it had large, wooden doors with a newfangled latch, and there were mismatched tapestries on the walls. Long curtains hung at the tall windows, and carved wooden chairs were set around a large table in the dining hall. Servants dressed in combinations of orange, pink, and purple flutterings dashed forward and relieved James of his cloak and the lord and lady of their veil and mantle, and Lily smiled to herself to realize that this was what was termed as ‘comfortable living’.
   The dinner was well enough, interrupted frequently by chatterings from the lady and several of her other guests. Her name turned out to be Elinore of Sunnamen, and her husband’s name was Sir Richard.
   A roasted pig sat in the middle of the table, with tureens of gravy set all around it. Pieces of white bread were placed at intervals around the table for dipping in the gravy, and fruit was jumbled together in glass bowls. There were no napkins, but in compensation there was a long tablecloth. It was apparently the custom to drink large amounts of wine and fall over one another telling long and drawn-out stories that only made sense if you were as drunk as the relater, and Lily found herself wishing she hadn’t come. James was constantly on the watch, tense, for a man beside her had already tried to grope at her shoulder, mumbling something about a lovely princess. He had had to threaten that man with his fist, and her neighbor had immediately fallen off of his chair.
   Lily leaned over to James. “This is enough to put me off of wine forever.”
   “It is,” he agreed. “Now aren’t you glad I’m not a heavy drinker?”
   “Definitely,” Lily frowned. “If you entertained people like this, you’d be without a wife.”
   She pushed her chair back, looking around the room for an opportune temporary exit, for she felt she’d be sick to her stomach if she had to keep on breathing the reeking fumes at the table. She found a narrow hallway with a window, and, gasping in air, leaned relievedly on the sill.
   Lily heard steps behind her, and she sighed.
   “Are you ready to go, too?”
   “Quite definitely,” a voice behind her said.
   She whirled. If that was James’ voice, he had undergone surprisingly quick surgery of his vocal cords. Besides, James didn’t spit when he had finished a sentence.
   No, Lily agreed with herself, nothing could be more unlike James. James, at least, knew how to dress. James had taste. This mass of rolled, clashing cloth and glass trinkets, however, did not have taste. He’d obviously also had too much to drink, and while that might be madly attractive to bald older ladies with lap dogs, it didn’t appeal to her.
   “On second thought,” Lily commented, “I’ll stay here.”
   “May I accompany thee in thy musings?” he lurched faintly.
   “You may not,” she snapped. She had no time for this. In the mood she was in, she wanted to go on a honeymoon with her husband to enjoy herself, not to be constantly warding off drunks. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
   “But my lady isn’t safe by her lone self. She’d better have some protection.”
   Protection, Lily thought. From whom, I wonder.
   She turned towards the hallway that led to the dining hall, meaning to walk towards it, but the man—if it could be called a man—blocked her way.
   “Where to, my lady?”
   Sirius could have advised that man against that. James could have advised that man against that. Lora, Eva, Vanessa, Amanda, and Serena all could have advised that man against that. Lily’s fist started to itch.
   “If my lady wishes to stay the night, this manor has a wing dedicated to guests,” he leered. “I could show them to the lady.” He snatched at her arm.
   Inside the dining hall, James was getting rather worried. Well—not worried, but puzzled. She’d said she’d return right away, and now she’d been gone a good ten minutes. Of course, he couldn’t blame her for staying away from the table—for their taste, the people had absolutely no manners, and they were quite content to listen to the men talk and have the women sit on, admiring. When Lily had spoken up, saying that the idea of nobles and a tyrannical king was idiotic, they had eyed her with suspicion, and James wasn’t sure, but he thought that his neighbor had called them ‘foreign sorcerers’.
   Several minutes ago, an elderly man that had decidedly had too much to drink had stood up from the table, but James hadn’t noticed where he’d gone. Theories abounding, he pushed his own chair back and followed the hallway Lily had entered. He knew, above anyone else, that Lily was capable of taking care of herself, but he had an idea she wouldn’t forgive him easily if he didn’t come to her rescue, even if he wasn’t needed.
   He was entirely correct in his suppositions as to where the man had gone, and also correct as applied to what he was doing. Practically bald, with spilled articles of food and drink all over his gaudy clothing, he was attempting to seduce a rather tempestuous redhead, trying to pin her arm behind her back or something of that sort. He should have known better, James thought, shaking his head, and he stepped forward.
   “Lily, need help there?”
   Lily looked up, flashing him a smile of relief. “I was wondering if you would follow me.” She grinned. “I think I’ve got it pretty well under control. Just a moment—“
   She pulled her arm forward, yanked it backward, and elbowed him in the stomach, causing the man to grunt and loosen his hold. He hadn’t expected that, and a bit of rage caused him to tighten his hold on Lily’s wrists.
   She wouldn’t have let on for the world, but James could tell it hurt her; small lines of pain were forming around her eyes, and her knuckles were somewhat white. He snapped. As long as the guy wasn’t hurting his wife, it was somewhat tolerable, but this was less than tolerable. At the last moment, he remembered the rule about no magic in the Muggle world, and pulled his own fist back, catching the man at the base of the skull.
   It was a very satisfying thud, James reflected, and it was even more satisfying that the man had fallen, dazed, onto the floor. He hadn’t had to threaten him at all to let go of Lily; as soon as James caught her before she fell, her wrists were released.
   “You all right?” James asked, though, truth to tell, he’d be more concerned about the man than Lily if he’d had any reason to be concerned for him.
   “Of course I am. I’d have done something about it by myself, you know. You really didn’t have to come and help. It makes me feel so much like a damsel in distress.”
   “Well, you were.”
   “I was not,” she snapped, but on seeing his face, she sighed.
   “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I don’t know if I could have handled him. He was stronger than he looked.”
   He picked her up, deftly moving her train out from underneath the fallen bulk that falsely liked to call itself human, in his opinion, and walked down the hallway, out a back way, and around to the stables. James lifted his wife onto her horse. “You sure you can ride?”
   “Positive,” she smiled. “I won’t be thrown.”
   He grinned back at her as he mounted his own. “Let’s get back to the boarding-house, shall we?”
   “You know where to go, I suspect?” she inquired.”
   “More or less. We’d better go, if we want to get there before dark.”
   They left the manor unnoticed by all except several youths picking fruit from trees in an orchard, and they rode quickly through the fields and the forests, splashing rapidly through small streams. Lily laughed when she looked up, close to the boarding-house, and saw storm-clouds gathering. By the time they had put their horses away and stepped inside, rain was pelting madly.
   Both of them laughing now, they started to mount the stairs, but they were met by their landlady, who coughed loudly and retreated into another room. James frowned; he didn’t like this, but he wasn’t about to alarm Lily. She, however, had noticed, and she was just as on her guard as James was, so when they pushed the door to their room open and found three knights there, with drawn swords, they were hardly surprised.
   One of the knights, obviously the leader, stepped forward, holding a piece of paper.
   “I am hereby commanded to confiscate the rights and liberty of the accused persons abiding in this place of residence and direct them immediately to a place of security,” he said pompously, patting his sword.
   James raised his eyebrows. “You’re taking us to jail, in other words?”
   “Er—“ The man was discomposed, at least for the moment. “Sir, we have received good and fast evidence that thee and thy lady have performed the crime of witchcraft against the people of England, and we are to take thee for thy trial.”
   “Trial,” James snorted. “More likely death sentence.” He turned to Lily. “Go with them peacefully or not?”
   She wrinkled her nose. “I suppose we’d have more of a thrill if we fought them, but then they’ve got quite long swords and we’ve only got my dagger.”
   “Go with them?”
   Lily nodded, laughing. “Lead on. We’re ready.”
   This was a rather startling experience for the knights—they were used to the accused putting up huge whining tantrums and screaming their innocence—and these two were finding it amusing!
   “I am entitled to warn you that your punishment, if you are convicted, is death by the stake.”
   “Hold it,” Lily interrupted. “What ‘good and fast’ evidence do you claim to have?”
   James almost laughed. He hadn’t thought of that himself.
   Folding his hands over his stomach haughtily , the leader signaled to one of the other guards. “Bring forth the items.”
   As arrogantly as he, the two others stepped forward, carrying the cauldron Lily had made last night’s meal in and the other carried her purse. James frowned.
   “You mean to say that her purse proves us both to be magical?”
   ”It does, sire, and that evidence is final. Reach inside, man,” he commanded.
   James supposed that that meant him, and he pulled out Lily’s bracelet, the one—He groaned. It was the one she had bewitched so that Muggles couldn’t pick it up.
   Pandemonium broke out. The landlady, who had taken up her position at the door, squealed, flung her apron up over her head, and fled down the stairs. The leader shrunk backwards, crashing into a table and sending it flying, while his two sidekicks lowered their spears, pointing them at the necks of the couple, growling.
   Lily frowned. “I’m guessing we’ll have to go with them. Where’d you put our wands?”
   The leader let out a fresh gasp, and James was starting to enjoy this. “They’re in the drawer of the table, right underneath the fat guy,” he gestured.
   The fallen knight leapt up, staring wide-eyed at the table, and he gave a curt order. “March them to the judge!”
   James was worrying only a tiny bit. Both of them were in possession of their wands; they were in pockets in their bliauts, but he didn’t know what they’d do if they got taken away from them. He didn’t mention that to Lily, though, because she was obviously enjoying herself.
   They were roughly yanked into a courtroom, where an elderly man, all in black, stood behind a desk, presiding. The guards and the woman gave their evidence, and then James and Lily were called upon to give their arguments. James almost laughed when he saw Lily’s expression.
   “Thou art to plea innocent of the charge and give thy evidence, or thou shalt plead guilty and suffer thy punishments. Make your choice wisely and truthfully.”
   Lily shook her hair back. “How do you know I’m a witch?”
   “By the evidence that has been put before us,” the judge frowned. “Get on with they plea.”
   “So just because I’ve got an interesting cooking pot and a bracelet that your guards were too clumsy to pick up, I’m immediately a witch?”
   “Keep a civil tongue in thy head!” the judge thundered. “Plea thy case!”
   “I am. I’m asking you what the evidence is against me, and I’m picking holes in the evidence. You’re condemning me to death because I don’t have the same cooking-pot that my landlady does?”
   “It is a cauldron!” the leader of the guards burst out. “And they spoke of wands!”
   “My companion told you the wands were in the drawer underneath you. Was there a drawer?”
   “There was not,” he admitted. “You bewitched it!”
   “So, there wasn’t a drawer, which means there also were no wands. One fact established. We don’t own wands.”
   The leader started to splutter, but she drove on cleanly.
   “If I am not mistaken, then the fact that one is capable of witchcraft is established by seeing a person perform magic. I haven’t done so, and you can’t prove that I have. Two: I have not allegedly harmed anyone by…”
   She went on in that strain for at least twenty minutes, and it was only when she made a purposeful insult towards the guards, pointing out stupidity and clumsiness, that the judge lost his already strained temper.
   “Enough! The stake for them both! Not only witchcraft, but insults have they flung at our society! To the stake with them!”
   Lily was laughing merrily, each note she sounded seemed to freeze the marrow of each guard’s bones. James was used to it, and he found himself grinning along with her as they were led outside, to three already prepared stakes.
   They were bound to one of them, back to back, with the stake in between them. Fagots were piled quickly around their feet as a curious peasantry crowd poured in. By the time the fagots were being lighted, however, James had managed to loosen Lily’s hands enough so that she could reach her wand unobtrusively, and he felt a cold, tingling sensation as she murmered a Freezing Charm, directing it at him.
   He didn’t hear her repeat the same one, and he whirled towards her. She was regarding the flames with interest, and he almost yelped.
   “Lily, are you nuts?!” he hissed. “You’re not immune to fire!”
   She smiled at him and at streaming lines of smoke. His forehead started to produce beads of sweat.
   “Lily! For God’s sake, don’t kill yourself!”
   Shaking her curls in front of her face, she pouted. “I wanted to see how much it would hurt!”
   “It hurts,” he said with finality. “Come on! If you don’t, at least take mine off of me.”
   She sighed, and a few seconds later, seconds before her dress was threatening to catch on fire, he heard her murmur the charm again. Relieved, he slumped against the stake.
   But then, immediately, he was wrenched out of his relieved state by an agonized screaming. Screams he knew the origin of, and he could feel Lily straining at the ropes that bound her to the stake.
   His subconscious forgot to breathe for a few seconds, and for a moment, he struggled for air.
   “Lily!” he gasped as soon as he could. Her shrieks were cutting into his veins—he’d no idea what had gone wrong. And he couldn’t help—for the life of him, he couldn’t reach her wand. Frantically, he strained at the binding ropes, hoping they’d be old and frayed. They weren’t.
   The flames were tickling his feet now, and he cast a glance over to Lily. The fire was licking its way up her calves, but her dress wasn’t burning. James frowned, and then he slumped.
   “I’m going to kill her,” he mumbled. Then, rolling his eyes, he took a deep breath and expelled it in a loud, overdone groan. After all, it would be rather odd if the victims of burning didn’t scream their heads off, wouldn’t it?
   James had to admit that Lily was better at this than he was. If he hadn’t known about the Freezing Charm, he’d have sworn that she was in that much pain. Sharply piercing, her screams would penetrate the masses, till she slumped in exhaustion, only to strain at the ropes again, screaming, shrieking—practically laughing, James knew, for the flames were tickling him madly, too.
   Just before the flames engulfed the area around their faces, her head dropped to the side, and she made a very convincing faint. When their audience could no longer see them, she poked him in the side.
   “What say we Apparate now?”
   He screamed one more time, then shut up. “If we have to. I’d say so, though.”
   “All right, then,” she giggled softly. “That was fun, even if I’m a bit hoarse. There’s a forest over there’ that’s a good Apparating point—or what do you think?” Her nimble fingers had by now undone one of the knots in the rope that was binding them, and James flexed his wrists as the rope fell to the ground.
   “No, let’s get the horses. They’ll confiscate them—and they might kill them, only because they’re ours. The boarding-house.”
   Lily nodded. “All right. One—two—three—“
   James vanished, but Lily stayed behind for a few seconds, pulling her wand out.
   “Favilla!” she murmered, and grinned to see a large pile of ashes heap themselves around the stake. Then she, too, dissolved, leaving an audience to gape at a large bonfire feeding on magic.
   She landed in the stable, just a few yards away from James, who was already leading the horses towards her. He tossed the reins of the black one to her, and she mounted it quickly, both of them galloping out of the stable. They had nothing to take from their lodgings that mattered, and a few minutes saw them careering across turnip fields, towards a main road.
   “Where’re we going?” James asked.
   “I always wanted to see Sherwood Forest,” she said with an innocent grin. James knew better.
   “Lily!”
   “What?” she asked. “I’m not intending to do anything! Just ride our horses along a forest path…” She linked her arm around his. “A beautiful, shade forest path, with wildflowers blossoming, and small creeks babbling brightly—and a beautiful, shady, green light over everything…”
   “Sounds romantic,” James said dryly. “Only I’m not as stupid as you think.”
   She wrinkled her nose. “Sometimes I don’t like being married to someone smart. Can’t we, please?”
   “Absolutely,” James said. “I’d like to meet Marian.”
   “Spoiler!” Lily laughed. “So you don’t mind?”
   “I don’t mind,” he agreed. “As long as he doesn’t get you killed.”
   “Robin Hood,” Lily said sternly, eyeing him, “would not [i]dare[/i] hurt me.”
   James laughed. “I don’t mean in the way that drunk idiot did at that supposedly grand manor. I mean what if you go on a raid and you get shot?”
   “James,” she said testily, “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and it’s not foretold that I’ll even be going on raids. All I want to do is meet him.”
   “Your wish is my command. After all, if we don’t want to go home, that’s the only place we can go to, isn’t it? We’re practically outlaws now…even though it’s not official. I mean, we can’t show our faces near that boardinghouse or in London, can we?”
   “You’re right,” she smiled. “You’re not so old-fashioned as to forbid me from dressing in pants and a tunic once we get there, are you?”
   “Nope. But we really should get rid of quite a bit of our money. Bury it, or Apparate back to our ship and stow it there.”
   Lily shook her head fiercely. “No. We’re going to see him just as we are, and I want to see the dinners he treats his guests to before he takes their money. This’ll be interesting.”
   “As you wish,” James smiled. “Just one thing—are we going there as brother and sister, or husband and wife, or an engaged couple, or friends?”
   “Husband and wife,” Lily laughed, “or would you find anything else more amusing?”
   “I’d say an engaged couple; then I’ll get to fight whoever tries to take you away.”
   “You could do that better if you were an unknown lover posing as a friend,” she mused. “Which would you prefer?”
   “Lily,” he said hesitantly, reining in both their horses with a grasp of both reins, “I’d prefer if we were at least engaged…that way I don’t think you regretted marrying me…not if I see your having loads of fun with someone else…please?”
   She looked down at him, and she melted.
   “I’m being silly. There’s no need to lie about this. I’ll be your wife, if you want me to.”
   James hugged her. “Thanks…that’s really all I wanted.” He kissed her cheek. “We can be engaged, if it’s all the same to you.”
   Lily laughed. “Thanks. I do love you, you know.”
   Before he could reply, her horse was galloping on ahead of him, and, grinning, he flicked the reins on his own steed’s back, both of them racing over the country.
   At nightfall, they were riding towards an inn, and within a few moments, the couple had alighted and tethered their horses at a post. It was unlikely that news of in insolent, scarlet-haired witch and her husband had traveled this far so fast, and people believed they were dead, so their only real danger lay in London and in the town where they had slept that one night.
   When they entered the tavern, James pulled Lily to a table, ordering a mug of beer for himself and cider for Lily, who had tasted beer once and found it to be the nastiest thing ever created, besides James’ and Sirius’ Hogwarts days’ Fishy Delight. Half a roast chicken ended up on a plate in front of them, as well as an apple pie, and James couldn’t repress a smile at Lily when a piece of apple got stuck to her nose.
   As the evening wore on, two men in cloaks struck up a ballad over a maiden that drowned herself, and, drowsy in spite of the music and clapping of the other visitors, Lily let her head fall onto James’ shoulder; she didn’t even notice him carrying her upstairs into one of the inn’s rooms.
   When she woke up, she sat up in bed quickly; she couldn’t remember this place, no matter how hard she tried. The next thing she noticed was what she was wearing; James had wrapped a linen sheet around her and knotted it; there being a lack of anything else for them to wear. He’d slept in his clothes, but she smiled to see her dress hanging up neatly over a chair, without any wrinkles whatsoever. The whole room, in a contrast to the dusty boardinghouse, was sunny, bright, and cheery, and Lily could smell the forest through an open window. She laughed. It was at least eleven o’clock by the sunlight.
   Lily poked James in the shoulder. “Wake up!” she whispered. “Morning!”
   He rolled over. “Hullo.” Turning back onto his stomach, he promptly closed his eyes and started to snore. Lily rolled her eyes. Swinging her feet out of bed, she pulled on her own dress, shoes, and girdle; there was a bristle brush next to a pail of water for her to wash her face in. She doused her face in the clear fluid, then, grinning evilly, took the bucket over to the bed and coolly dumped the remainder on her lightly snoring husband.
   He made a very beautiful jump out of bed, and he was still dazed when he stared at the wet spot where his head was been. Confused, he ran a hand through his sopping wet hair, and Lily burst out laughing.
   "That’s what you get for sleeping in late!”
   He grumbled a bit, but admitted he’d never oversleep again, not when there was the faintest possibility of water being nearby.
   They paid quickly for breakfast, a loaf of bread and some cold chicken that they took with them, dinner, and their stay at the in, and then they were riding briskly towards the cool, shadowy, pleasant green forest of which they could see the tree-tops.
   In a half-hour, their horse’s hooves were cracking twigs on the forest floor, and Lily had pointed out a fairy ring of mushrooms. It was almost too peaceful to believe that a band of robbers lived there, James thought, and he rather suspected that Robin Hood didn’t exist.
   On the other hand, Lily, with the advanced hearing her ears were pierced with, had caught rustles of leaves along their path, and as soon as they turned into a road running by a river, a band of at least twenty men appeared from what seemed to be nowhere.
   “Good day, gentlefolk,” the obvious leader of the band bowed. Lily ran an eye over him unobtrusively. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders; his hands were callused. Dark brown hair hung to his jawline, and he, like all his men, were clothed in forest-green, the colour of her eyes and of the leaves around them. A longbow hung around one shoulder, while a quiver of arrows draped around another. He was carrying a staff in one hand, and his men were armed likewise.
   Lily bowed her head. “Good day.”
   “I have been asked by my master to provide guests to his table. If you will come with me—“ He made a move as if to take her reins, but her horse shied away.
   “Thy master?” she said imperiously. “I must obey the whims of thy master?”
   “It would be a pleasure for him,” the man bowed again, keeping his eyes fastened on hers. “We welcome such as thee, my lady.”
   Lily laughed, letting the trees resound with echoes. “Where to, sir?”
   “Only among the trees a while, my lady. Not far.”
   “Lead on, then,” she smiled, keeping hold of her reins. “We follow thee.”
   The company was perceptibly a bit astounded—people around here knew who they were, and they were frightened, if not of them, at least of highwaymen, nobles above all, and these two were visibly nobles. Still, theirs not to reason why, and there was no reason of complaint, so half of the company fell behind the two horses and some went on ahead.
   A small while later, they had to dismount from their horses as they were led through a rather deep thicket—but beyond—
   Lily couldn’t, in her wildest imagination, have pictured this. Wild grass grew, carpeted with leaves and moss, untamed among the wildflowers.   Trees, old ones, and ancient and stately, towered overhead, spreading the clearing with a green, glowing light. A large, long table was set near the edge of the clearing, and it looked as if nearly two hundred men and then some could fit around it. The table and chairs weren’t fine masterpieces of art; they only looked so elegant because of the green cloth draped over the seats. One grand, old oak stood against the middle of the table, and a chair grander than any of the others, with armrests and gold threads through the green cloth flung over it, sat with its back resting against the oak.
   The rest of the clearing hadn’t been cared for by a gardener, but it had a wild charm of its own, with overgrown ivy and moss and wildflowers. Lily hardly paid any attention to that, though, for a graceful young man had stepped in front of her, bowing low. When he rose, Lily surveyed him, interested.
   He was only about twenty-two; his eyes were the same green as hers; he had no beard; only a small blond moustache. His blond hair was neat and yet not; it hung to his chin, and he kept it out of his face with a hat, which he lifted on bowing to her. He was exquisitely dressed in the same Lincoln green of his men, and he had let his longbow and quiver of arrows fall to the ground a moment earlier. Extending his hand to her, he let her dismount, and she swept him a curtsy, caught up in the forest wind and coming across a legend.
   “Robin Hood, at your service,” he smiled. Smiled rather too enchantingly, James thought. He dismounted himself and took his stand behind Lily.
   Lily was amazed by him, and also by the legends she had heard about this young man, and now he was, here, unafraid, adventurous, and gallant to the tip of his shoes. No wonder Marian had capitulated to the outlaw, she thought.
   As the men of the band looked over at one of the many guests, they were not a little surprised. She was much more striking than the usual limp older noblemen’s wives, and she was infinitely more attractive; even the gown she was wearing struck their eyes strangely, as if it had been made out of the greenwood and fitted onto a wood sprite, a nymph in human form.
   The outlaws’ leader found in her an attentive listener to several of his tales, and he soon found it one of his goals to make her laugh, to hear the reverberating tones fill the clearing. Within a few minutes he knew she was anything but submissive and stupid; far from being a fairy of the woods—she resembled more an elf sprung from the heart of a fire. But her eyes—those were of the greenwood, dark and deep, with a mysterious silver mist swirling inside them—a mist that reappeared and vanished at intervals…
   James had at first taken up the position of her bodyguard, but later was drawn into a group of men that were shooting at a bare piece of tree trunk, where the bark had been stripped off, for sport, and they were teaching him. James wasn’t half bad, after all, he and Sirius had to have something to do during summers and things, and they had had James’ entire mansion at their disposal. He was quite rusty, though, and nothing really compared to a bow he could hardly pull back.
   Robin wasn’t the least bit stuck-up, either, and Lily found herself admiring him more than she thought she would. He was relating to her an adventure he had had in Nottingham one day.
   “I had sold the butcher’s ware cheap, but relieved myself of all of it, and the men had invited me to dine with them at an inn in the town. The innkeeper told us to keep silent, for the Sheriff himself had dined there that day, and he was resting in an upper room. I asked the good man to relate to the Sheriff my good wishes—and behold, the next day brought an invitation to dine with him for me. Thus we talked of this matter and that—but he had heard I wast a spendthrift, and he looked to buy land from me—taking advantage of my youth, it was supposed, and also to capture Robin Hood, for I had told him I was a friend of the outlaw.”
   He stopped to hear her contemptuous laugh; encouraged, he dove into his tale again.
   James heard her laugh, and he turned towards her, an unmistakable look of jealousy on his face. One of the men next to him caught it.
   “Resentful of the master, are thee? You’ll sure be more than that,” he nodded. James snapped towards the man, but he had said all he wished to say, and was pulling an arrow out of a quiver. James sighed. He turned towards Lily again; correct, elegant, and beautiful, she was listening to that neat-haired bossy pompous brat’s stories. Why he’d ever given in in the first place he didn’t know.

Beyond Hogwarts: Chapter IV

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