Ellen Datlow: Black Heart, Ivory Bones

He was with me in an instant, bowing low.

“I have a message from your master,” I said, “whom I met just now in the woods with his new bride. But, like most Englishwomen, the lady is of a somewhat nervous disposition and she has taken it into her head that End-Of-All-Hope House is a dreadful place full of horrors. So your master and I have put our heads together and concluded that the quickest way to soothe her fears is to fetch this woman”—I indicated Dido—“whom she knows well, to meet her. A familiar face is sure to put her at her ease.”

I stopped and gazed, as though in expectation of something, at Dando’s dark, twisted face. And he gazed back at me, perplexed.

“Well?” I cried. “What are you waiting for, blockhead? Do as I bid you! Loose the nurse’s bonds so that I may quickly convey her to your master!” And then, in a fine counterfeit of one of John Hollyshoes’s own fits of temper, I threatened him with everything I could think of: beatings, incarcerations, and enchantments! I swore to tell his master of his surliness. I promised that he should be put to work to untangle all the twigs in the woods and comb smooth all the grass in the meadows for insulting me and setting my authority at naught.

Dando is a clever sprite, but I am a cleverer. My story was so convincing that he soon went and fetched the key to unlock Dido’s fetters, but not before he had quite worn me out with apologies and explanations and pleas for forgiveness.

When the other servants heard the news that their master’s English cousin was taking the English nurse away, it seemed to stir something in their strange clouded minds and they all came out of their hiding places to crowd around us. For the first time I saw them more clearly. This was most unpleasant for me, but for Dido it was far worse. She told me afterwards that through her right eye she had seen a company of ladies and gentlemen who bent upon her looks of such kindness that it made her wretched to think she was deceiving them, while through the other eye she had seen the goblin forms and faces of John Hollyshoes’s servants.

There were horned heads, antlered heads, heads carapaced like insects’ heads, heads as puckered and soft as a mouldy orange; there were mouths pulled wide by tusks, mouths stretched out into trumpets, mouths that grinned, mouths that gaped, mouths that dribbled; there were bats’ ears, cats’ ears, rats’ whiskers; there were ancient eyes in young faces, large, dewy eyes in old worn faces, there were eyes that winked and blinked in parts of anatomy where I had never before expected to see any eyes at all. The goblins were lodged in every part of the house: there was scarcely a crack in the wainscotting which did not harbour a staring eye, scarcely a gap in the banisters without a nose or snout poking through it. They prodded us with their horny fingers, they pulled our hair and they pinched us black and blue. Dido and I ran out of End-Of-All-Hope House, jumped up upon Quaker’s back and rode away into the winter woods.

Snow fell thick and fast from a sea-green sky. The only sounds were Quaker’s hooves and the jingle of Quaker’s harness as he shook himself.

At first we made good progress, but then a thin mist came up and the path through the woods no longer led where it was supposed to. We rode so long and so far that — unless the woods had grown to be the size of Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire together — we must have come to the end of them, but we never did. And whichever path I chose, we were forever riding past a white gate with a smooth, dry lane beyond it — a remarkably dry lane considering the amount of snow which had fallen — and Dido asked me several times why we did not go down it. But I did not care for it. It was the most commonplace lane in the world, but a wind blew along it — a hot wind like the breath of an oven, and there was a smell as of burning flesh mixed with sulphur.

When it became clear that riding did no more than wear out ourselves and our horse, I told Dido that we must tie Quaker to a tree — which we did. Then we climbed up into the branches to await the arrival of John Hollyshoes.

Dido told me how she had always heard from her mother that red berries, such as rowan-berries, are excellent protection against fairy magic.

“There are some over there in that thicket,” she said.

But she must have been looking with her enchanted eye for I saw, not red berries at all but the chestnut-coloured flanks of Pandemonium, John Hollyshoes’s horse.

Then the two fairies on their fairy-horses were standing before us with the white snow tumbling across them.

“Ah, cousin!” cried John Hollyshoes. “How do you do? I would shake hands with you, but you are a little out of reach up there.” He looked highly delighted and as full of malice as a pudding is of plums. “I have had a very exasperating morning. It seems that the young gentlewomen have all contracted themselves to someone else — yet none will say to whom. Is that not a most extraordinary thing?”

“Most,” said I.

“And now the nurse has run away.” He eyed Dido sourly. “I never was so thwarted, and were I to discover the author of all my misfortunes — well, cousin, what do you suppose that I would do?”

“I have not the least idea,” said I.

“I would kill him,” said he. “No matter how dearly I loved him.”

The ivy that grew about our tree began to shake itself and to ripple like water. At first I thought that something was trying to escape from beneath it, but then I saw that the ivy itself was moving. Strands of ivy like questing snakes rose up and wrapped themselves around my ancles and legs.

“Oh!” cried Dido in a fright, and tried to pull them off me.

The ivy did not only move; it grew. Soon my legs were lashed to the tree by fresh, young strands; they coiled around my chest and wound around the upper part of my right arm. They threatened to engulf my journal but I was careful to keep that out of harm’s way. They did not stop until they caressed my neck, leaving me uncertain as to whether John Hollyshoes intended to strangle me or merely to pin me to the tree until I froze to death.

John Hollyshoes turned to Dando. “Are you deaf, iron-brains? Did you never hear me say that he is as accomplished a liar as you and I?” He paused to box Dando’s ear. “Are you blind? Look at him! Can you not perceive the fierce fairy heart that might commit murder with indifference? Come here, unseelie elf! Let me poke some new holes in your face! Perhaps you will see better out of those!”

I waited patiently until my cousin had stopped jabbing at his servant’s face with the blunt end of his whip and until Dando had ceased howling. “I am not sure,” I said, “whether I could commit murder with indifference, but I am perfectly willing to try.” With my free arm I turned to the page in my journal where I have described my arrival in Allhope. I leant out of the tree as far as I could (this was very easily accomplished as the ivy held me snug against the trunk) and above John Hollyshoes’s head I made the curious gesture that I had seen him make over the old man’s head.

We were all as still as the frozen trees, as silent as the birds in the thickets and the beasts in their holes. Suddenly John Hollyshoes burst out, “Cousin …!”

It was the last word he ever spoke. Pandemonium, who appeared to know very well what was about to happen, reared up and shook his master from his back, as though terrified that he too might be caught up in my spell. There was a horrible rending sound; trees shook; birds sprang, cawing, into the air. Anyone would have supposed that it was the whole world, and not merely some worthless fairy, that was being torn apart. I looked down and John Hollyshoes lay in two neat halves upon the snow.