The Twilight of Magic

by Lofting Hugh

This story or explanation was the only one the poor King could think of. Giles did not say whether he believed it or did not believe it. Anyhow, if it were true it made secrecy doubly important. The only consolation he could offer to the King was that there were no signs of violence or a struggle left behind. This was at all events some comfort. Sometimes no news meant good news, he said.

After he had assured himself that no tracks were to be found beneath the windows of the Countess’s room, he made certain that she could not be hidden anywhere in the castle—also that no horses were missing from the stables. Then he came to the King and his mother to bid them farewell.

So great was his faith in his own gift for finding—in his never-failing luck—that he told them he hoped to bring or send back news of the missing girl in two or three days at most. Meanwhile he begged them to take the greatest care that no word of Barbara’s disappearance should leak out. Anne was to guard the Countess’s room, so that none should know that she was not still within the castle walls. He asked that Luke be taken into the secret and set to help his sister with her task. His search would be made easier so. There was no need, he said, that the wedding guests should be sent away for the present; but word ought to be given out that the marriage had had to be put off for a few days—to await the arrival of an important personage whose presence at the ceremony was necessary. Then when the King had wished him good fortune, and the Queen Mother had given him her blessing, he had ridden forth alone.

He had appeared sure and confident enough when he was still with them, hoping to cheer their sad hearts. But after he was well away from the castle he was bound to admit that he had very little to build his hopes on. And the more he thought of his task the harder it seemed. In all the difficult searches he had made so far he had begun by carefully thinking out a plan of action. Yet here for the first time, with the whole world for a hunting ground, he could scarcely think of any worthy of the name.

The best he could do, he decided, was to work over the country in circles, keeping the castle as a centre. It was barely twelve hours since Barbara had left. She could not therefore at most be farther off than a fast horse could carry her in that time. So it was his hope that in crossing all the roads that led away from the palace he might hear word, or by some other good turn of fortune find which one it was she had travelled by.

But even if he was somewhat downcast about the success of his search, he had also a curious feeling of gladness as he rose in his stirrups to Midnight’s fast and steady, forward-swinging trot. He was glad that Barbara had not been made Queen this morning. He was glad that she was still unmarried. Then instantly remembering the King’s grief, he was ashamed of such thoughts. Nevertheless, that odd spark of happy thrill would come tingling back through his blood once in a while, till at length he gritted his teeth as he urged his horse into a better speed. He told himself that now, if ever, he must be on guard against his own feelings. And if he could not entirely rid his heart of such disloyal ideas, he must force them to help him towards a higher unselfishness in the service of his King and friend.

He had intended not to break the first stage of his journey till he had gained a point some twenty miles at least from the capital. Then he would begin his circling search. At that distance fewer people would know him by sight. In and around the castle it would be already noted that Sir Giles Waggonwright had set out upon a journey. But so long as he was careful, no one need learn for the present what errand it was that took him forth.

By nightfall he had reached a village. Here he made his first halt. It was at the crossing of several roads, one of them quite an important highway for traffic, such as it was in those times. This place, Giles felt, would be a good one from which to start his work. In questioning the country folk he could not of course speak of the Countess Barbara by name, nor even ask directly if they had seen a young woman of her description. He had to get information in a roundabout sort of way by chatting with the villagers on all sorts of general country gossip, hoping that some word would be let fall that would start him on the right track.

Remembering that the girl, on their trips into the country with the King and Luke, had always been kind to the poor and unfortunate, he kept an eye open for any beggars whom he could engage in conversation. Also her liking for horses and dogs led him to visit all the stables he passed. Asking after good horses to hire gave him an excuse to speak with grooms and ostlers who might have seen her. He took Midnight into every blacksmith’s shop he saw to have her hoofs looked at, or to get her bit and trappings shined up. At some places he didn’t do any talking at all himself, but just stood around listening to the exchange of gossip among the common people. In those times most news was carried by word of mouth. And now and then, knowing that the appearance of a knight might make the yokels too respectful and untalkative, he would pretend to fall asleep from weariness in taverns or on public benches. He hoped he might more easily so catch something helpful to his search.

But his stay in the first village brought him nothing, and the following morning, early, he moved on to the westward.