Snow White and Rose Red Read Free Page A

floor of the Queen’s Great Hall as she turned.
    “Say, rather, that she will not, and if you would be wise you’ll say it softly,” the man’s companion replied in a low voice. “The Queen’s sons are one-half mortal, and the younger’s much at court. ”
    “I take your point, and likewise will take care to watch my tongue,” the man in grey said thoughtfully. “If ‘tis the Queen’s will, there’s no more to be said.”
    Nearby, the black-haired woman curled her lip and turned away, her curiosity at an apparent end. She had taken barely two steps when an overly ingenuous voice said, “What is’t that ails thee, lady? Belike an inflammation of the liver, or else a colic, or a rheum? For surely ‘tis not temper that doth make thee look so black.”
    The woman stiffened and turned to face the wiry youth who had spoken. Her expression became still more disdainful. “Be wary, Robin, lest ‘tis thyself thy tongue dost cut.”
    The youth lowered his chin and peered at her through a fringe of unruly black hair. “Did I say aught amiss?”
    “Go to,” the woman said contemptuously. “Thou‘rt near as worthless as a mortal man. Find someone else on whom to whet thy wits; an thou dost provoke me again, thou’lt rue it.” She turned and swept away.
    The youth stood motionless, looking after her with narrowed eyes, and the corners of his mouth turned very slightly upward. “Will I so?” he murmured. “Will I, indeed?”

     
    On the opposite side of the Widow’s cottage, in the village of Mortlak, lived Master John Dee, commonly called Doctor Dee. He and his family occupied a three-story, half-timbered house on the river Thames. Though Dee was welcomed in the homes of the educated and well-to-do (he was, after all, Queen Elizabeth’s astrologer), ordinary folk disliked and feared him. Fishmongers, joiners, and even the men who pulled the dustcarts wore hawthorn twigs in their caps whenever they had to pass Dee’s house, or carried crosses tucked inside their jerkins. For John Dee was widely known to be a sorcerer, and all his connections at the court could not make him acceptable to his neighbors.
    Dee was well aware of the town’s hostility. He had faced accusations of witchcraft and sorcery at least twice, though the charges had come to nothing. For a long time thereafter he had kept quiet about his interest in things magical, but in recent years he had begun to experiment once more. He was aided in these activities by a like-minded friend, one Edward Kelly. For over a year, the two men had worked in the high-ceilinged study on the second floor of Dee’s house, and now Kelly had proposed a new and ambitious enterprise. He was taken aback, and somewhat disgruntled, to discover that Dee was less than enthusiastic.
    “There is great profit in‘t, can we but discover a means to secure the power to our requirements,” Kelly said persuasively. He was a short, bearded man in his late twenties. A fringe of brown hair showed around the edges of the close-fitting black skullcap he always wore. His smooth voice had the accent of a well-educated man, and he wore the black robes of a scholar.
    “I cannot like it, Ned,” Dee replied, frowning. He was nearly twice his companion’s age and his long beard was quite grey, but his face was handsome and well bred. He, too, wore a scholar’s robes, but they seemed more appropriate to his dignity than to the younger man’s restless energy.
    “Why say you so?” Master Kelly demanded. “We may have within our grasp the secret of the philosopher’s stone or the Elixir itself, and yet you hesitate!”
    “The angel of the stone hath not confirmed our purpose,” John Dee replied, waving at a square table in the center of the room. The top of the table was covered with symbols, and in the center rested a sphere of polished quartz.
    “Nor hath the angel condemned it,” Kelly shot back. “And how should he? Think, John! The hosts of Heaven have naught to do with