The men making bricks wished them luck as George and Melitta set off around the lake for the construction site. Melitta was unusually quiet, her eyes darting around as though searching for something. Perhaps she expected the unicorn to pop out of the trees to surprise her.
Did she know something about unicorns that he did not?
Probably. She seemed to know a lot about a lot of things, which constantly surprised him. He'd thought that court ladies spent all of their time drinking, talking, and perhaps sewing. Certainly nothing particularly useful. Maybe Melitta was different, or maybe he'd just been wrong. Yet if she had fit in so well in court, what was she doing out here with him? Unless the goddess of war was lying about running away from a marriage that her parents had arranged for her, she was here because she wanted to be.
Because she wanted to be with him, a tiny voice inside his head taunted him..
Impossible. Georgie knew the score. It was a unicorn she wanted, not him. After all, she was by his side, not sparing him a glance, whilst she strained her eyes searching for the elusive beast.
The abbey was almost exactly as the priest had described it. A brick cellar carved into the cleared hillside, with the hill itself crowned by a circlet of stone that George took to be the well fed by a miraculous spring, or whatever it was. Magical, miraculous, blessed by a saint…the priest hadn't been too clear about that. All he had said was that the well had the power to heal the sick.
Now, George believed in miracles as much as the next man, but most miraculous wells that he had heard of worked their magic through the cleanliness of the water. No more magic required. In a city, clean water might be in short supply. Yet here, with such a large lake on their doorstep, why one would go to the trouble of digging a well for water…perhaps there was something to the stories, after all.
Not that George had any intention of needing the healing waters from the well. Together, he and Melitta would trap the unicorn, then return to camp and claim the reward when the priest arrived.
When Melitta reached the crown of the hill, she stopped. Turning around to look back the way that she'd come, a smile lit her face as she took in the view. "It's so beautiful," she breathed. "The view across the lake and over the forest… Though I would never join a religious community, I could live here."
"Why not? Are you not pious enough?" George teased.
Melitta closed her eyes and shook her head. "I grew up in a convent, remember? I know what life in the cloister is like. Reporting to the chapter house every morning for your chores, and then again every evening to report that they were done. It is all work and prayer and drudgery. Some found joy in it, but not I. Being closed within walls like that, even if you could see out… It was like being in a prison, or a tomb. I wish to live in the world, not separate from it."
"So this is what the unicorn is fighting to protect? The freedom of this hill in the forest? A domain without walls?" George asked.
Melitta shrugged. "I do not know. If the unicorn were here, perhaps I could read its mind. But as it is not, its motivation shall remain a mystery."
No unicorn? Now it was George's turn to scan their surroundings. Of course, she was right. There was no sign of the beast. Merely the grassy rise, and the big brick pit.
"Can you do that? Read the minds of animals, I mean?" George asked.
"Sometimes. When they use natural instinct, often there are no thoughts to read. A hunting beast usually only knows hunger, and a hunted beast only knows fear. They do not wonder, 'What if?'" Melitta managed a small smile. "Perhaps they all subscribe to the philosophy you described last night. They do not worry, and so they sleep better for it."
George peered into the cellar. It certainly looked big enough for their needs. But it was deeper than he'd thought. The fall from the top might kill a man, or a beast…
"Do you think our plan will work?" George asked abruptly. A sudden thought struck him, and he glanced around again, worried. "Perhaps we'd best not talk of it. After all, a unicorn is a kind of horse and horses understand what we say. So if the beast heard us, and knew our plan, it might also be smart enough to avoid it."
"The beast is not close enough to hear us," Melitta stated with all the confidence of a woman who knew she was talking about. "Perhaps there is something we must do to summon it. What did the priest do? Drink the water from the well?" She moved toward the well, her head darting around like a bird's at every step.
George's heart rose into his throat. He would not place her in danger. Not again. "No, I should do that," he said. "I did not mean that bit about you being virgin bait. I know you're a better marksman than me, so if anyone should be the bait, it is myself." He managed a sickly smile. "If you save me from the beast, I will make shoes for you for the rest of your life."
Melitta tilted her head to the side, as if considering his offer. "Very well," she said slowly. "You draw some water. I shall stand back, and we shall see whether there is any truth to this nonsense about unicorns preferring virgins."
Her eyes glinted with mischief, and for the first time George doubted. He'd believed her to be a virtuous lady, but he'd heard talk of something called courtly love. He'd dismissed it as mere wind – sonnets and other words and such, expressing ideas and ideals that had little to do with the reality of marriage.
Another thought struck him. What if that was what Melitta had run away from? A man at court who had forced her against her will, dishonoured her, and that was why she had been so adamant that the giants must die. Anger burned in his breast. When he escorted her home, he would ask the name of the vile wretch. George might not be a knight, but he had honour, and her honour would not be satisfied until the man had breathed his last.
Melitta was laughing softly. "I meant you, you fool. No man would dare touch one of the ladies of Queen Margareta's court without the lady's permission. The queen would castrate him, before subjecting him to a slow and painful death that he justly deserved. I am as chaste as I choose to be. If the beast does not attack you, then we shall know that unicorns have a fondness for virgins. For you are one, are you not?"
Oh, by all that was holy… George's cheeks grew hot as he blushed like a maiden. Though he longed to tell her she was correct, he refused to lie to her. "I am not," he said shortly. "So the beast will react to me as savagely as he did to the priest. May your purity keep you safe."
He unhooked the bucket from the side of the well, check to make sure it was firmly tied to the coiled rope, then flung the pail into the depths. A splash sounded deep below, and George grasped the rope to haul it up once more.
Melitta's voice was scarcely more than a whisper. "George."
He continued hauling up the bucket, but his eyes were no longer on the dark depths. It seemed just a shimmer between the trees, but it rippled, moving faster than anything he'd seen. Then the horse stepped out of the trees, and George could only stare. The rope fell from his fingers, as he took in the legendary steed.
He had never seen a finer piece of horse flesh. This beast belonged in a king's stable, at the very least. Or an emperor's, perhaps. Yet when the animal raised his head, and with it the wickedly sharp horn that was easily the length of George's forearm, George knew this beast belonged in no stable in heaven or on earth.
The unicorn tossed its head in apparent agreement, before it pawed the ground.
George tensed. Now he would live, or he would die. He prayed that the plan would work. Or that Melitta would succeed when he…
The beast started forward and George bolted. He darted this way, and then that, knowing that to run in a straight line would be to court death. Death by impalement. He circled the well. Once. Twice. On the third time, he broke and ran, heading downhill in the way they'd decided.
The unicorn's hooves thundered behind him. So close. But if George turned to see how close, he would die.
Five more steps. Four. Three. George uttered a prayer. A wordless cry that this would work. Two. One.
George closed his eyes and leaped into nothingness.