For the sake of her curiosity, Jacqueline sought the wondrous garden of Edana’s tale. She could not bear to think of that story having no foundation in truth.
She was delighted when she found it at the rear of the keep, though ’twas secured behind its own high walls. There was one gate in those walls, one wrought of fancifully turned iron bars and locked against intruders. Jacqueline hung on to the bars and peered inside as best she could.
It looked as most gardens did in the spring, half of the plants appearing dead and the rest clearly uncertain whether they desired to live. Someone had tended it recently, for ’twas not unkempt, but there was naught in bloom.
She craned her neck and peered through the bars, then squeaked in surprise when a man cleared his throat behind her.
’Twas ano
