Mistress Gurney's Box (standard:fantasy, 1709 words)
Author: moya	Added: May 20 2002	Views/Reads: 3201/2161	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A mysterious box with 'Do Not Open' on the lid - well, what would you do? 4th in the 'Dragontails' series.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

even wait to finish their beer. 

“All I want to do is take her box back.” 

The landlord raised his head cautiously above the bar. 

“You've not opened it?” 

“Of course not! It's private, obviously.” 

“Yes. Right. Well, you want to bear left at the haunted house, then it's
t'other side of Bogles Wood, just past the gibbet. You can't miss it.” 

“Thanks.” Sir Eustace lifted the box. “Bloody hell, it's heavy. What's
she got in here?” 

The landlord shuddered. “Don't ask!” 

*  *  * 

“Is this it?” asked the dragon, who had joined Sir Eustace again. ‘It'
was a small thatched cottage with roses round the door and hollyhocks 
in the garden. 

“If we've followed the directions right. Why?” 

“It all looks to good to be true. And there's definitely something funny
about that box. Can't we just leave it on the doorstep?” 

“Well, personally I'd like to meet the lady,” said Sir Eustace. “After
all the trouble we've been to, the least she can do is offer us a cup 
of tea and a bun.” 

Clutching the box under his arm, he marched down the path and rapped
smartly on the brass door knocker. The door opened at once. 

“Why, it's the Black Knight, bringing my box back! So kind.” a husky
voice murmured. “Do come in.” 

*  *  * 

Sir Eustace sat on the sofa, balancing a delicate china cup and saucer
on his knee. Mistress Gurney sat next to him, a little closer, he 
thought, than was strictly necessary. She was a well endowed lady of a 
certain age, wearing a gown of red velvet which clung in unexpected 
places. She was obviously a witch, you could tell from the crystal 
balls on the table and the framed certificate from Miss Emerod's 
Academy for Young Witches hanging on the wall. 

“I'm so grateful to you and the dear dragon,” she said. “I wish I could
have asked him in as well, but he'd never have fitted in my little 
cottage.” 

This was true. Not that the room was particularly small, but it was so
crowded with overstuffed chairs and occasional tables covered in 
knicknacks there was scarcely room to move. So Snowdrop was enjoying 
his tea and ginger cake by the back door. 

“How did you come to lose the box?” 

“It was stolen!” She sighed dramatically. “Such wickedness there is in
the world, to make off with a poor widow woman's only treasure!” 

“Hmm. Wonder why they dropped it in the road?” mused Sir Eustace. 

“Attack of conscience, perhaps. Another fairy cake? I baked them
specially.” 

“You knew we were coming?” 

“Of course. I saw it in my balls. My knight in shining armour!” 

Eustace coughed. “Could do with a bit of a polish, actually.” 

“And you never even tried to look inside. Weren't you tempted? Just the
teensiest little peek?” 

“None of my business what you keep in your boxes.” 

“Such honour, such integrity.” 

Sir Eustace blushed. “Just doing my knightly duty.” He placed his cup
back on a low table. “Now we really should be going, it's getting 
late.” 

Mistress Gurney clasped her hands in dismay. “Going? Surely you wouldn't
leave a frail, defenceless woman all alone? What if the robbers come 
back? And you won't reach the next inn before nightfall. After all your 
help, the least I can do is offer you a bed.” 

Sir Eustace was tempted. Funds were getting low, and sleeping in the
open did his rheumatism no good at all. Mistress Gurney gazed at him, 
her ample bosom heaving with emotion. 

“Oh, all right,” he said. 

Mistress Gurney made up a bed in what she called her ‘annexe' - a
disused byre build on to the cottage. 

“I have my reputation to consider,” she explained. Sir Eustace assured
her that he would be very comfortable. 

She smiled. “I'll leave the door on the latch, in case you need anything
during the night. Sleep well.” 

“You want to watch your step with her,” said Snowdrop. 

“Don't be silly,” said Eustace. “Very pleasant woman, for a witch. Go to
sleep.” 

The dragon awoke suddenly in the night, and peered round. He was alone.
A line of light showed round the door leading into the cottage. 
Snowdrop sighed. He was sorely tempted to leave Eustace to his fate, 
but in the end he crawled to the door and put his eye to the keyhole. A 
black candle burned on the table, and the witch was stirring something 
over in a pot over the fire, singing in a low crooning voice that sent 
shivers up Snowdrop's spine. Eustace sat in his nightshirt, staring 
straight in front of him. In the middle of the floor was the mysterious 
box.  Mistress Gurney finished her stirring, and came over to Sir 
Eustace. She stroked his bald head gently, but her never moved. 

“Such a fine specimen,” she purred. “A real gentleman, not like these
rude peasants round here. I like a mature man, who knows how to treat a 
lady. Do you want to open my box?” 

Sir Eustace said nothing. 

“Go on, you know you want to. You've been curious ever since you found
it. I don't mind.” 

Sir Eustace rose, stepped forward, and even as Snowdrop drew breath to
shout “Look out!” he bent and lifted the lid.  There was a blinding 
flash of light, a startled squawk, then the lid of the box snapped 
shut. Snowdrop blinked. Eustace has disappeared. 

Snowdrop burst through the door, breathing fire. Though he stuck halfway
through, he could still reach Mistress Gurney. She tried a quick spell, 
but she was not quick enough. The dragon had her in his claws. 

“You can't attack a lady!” she shrieked. 

“Wanna bet?” snarled the dragon. “Sir Eustace is the chivalrous one, I'm
the dragon. I eat ladies. Now get him back, or you're toast.!” 

“All right, all right, put me down.” Mistress Gurney straightened her
dress then called out in a trembling voice, “Slaves of the Box, come 
forth!” 

The lid opened, and out of the box climbed: an old man with a long white
beard, a travelling salesman, two local yokels - 

“Where's Sir Eustace?” growled the dragon. 

“Sir Eustace, please come out,” cried Mistress Gurney. “I didn't mean
it!” 

There was a pause, then out came Sir Kevin Dandiprat, closely followed
by Eustace. 

“Sorry,” he said. “We got chatting.” 

Mistress Gurney threw herself at his feet, sobbing. “I didn't mean any
harm. I only did it for the company, and a bit of help round the house. 
Don't let the dragon eat me! ” 

Sir Eustace looked at the others. “What do you reckon?” he asked. 

“I think she should be reported to the Witches Council,” said the
salesman, “they'll know how to deal with her.” 

Mistress Gurney dived for the door, taking them all by surprise. She
might well have got away, except that she tripped over the open box. 
There was another flash of light, and the lid dropped. 

“Oh well, that's sorted,” said Sir Eustace. 

They set out again soon after. It was nearly dawn by then anyway. The
two yokels took the box back to the village lockup. 

“We'll probably let her out in a year or two,” they said, “if she
promises to behave. She was a useful witch before she started getting 
ideas.” 

Sir Kevin asked if he could tag along with Eustace for a bit, as he had
nothing better to do. 

“You're welcome,” said Sir Eustace. He sighed. “You know, I really
thought she fancied me.” 

“She fancied all of us,” said Sir Kevin with a shudder.


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