Robin hastily tied his horse's reins to a tree and stormed on foot to the door of the witch's cave. The door would not budge, even when he shoved his shoulder against it.
Raising his fist, he pounded on the door, shouting, "Let me in, you hag from Hell!"
The witch Gwyan had been expecting him. She hid the girl child's poppet from sight, as well as the horse's tail, for she had need of them to cast her spells. She had already eaten six bites of the horse's heart when it was fresh and bloody, but the rest of it was boiling now in a brew of rowan berries and birch bark. All she needed was a single hair from Robin of Locksley's head, and she would have the potion she required to make him fall in love with her.
In another pot, the horse's testicles were brewing, for Gwyan believed she could make the lord of Locksley sterile by cooking the testicles of his horse. She wanted to engage in sex with him, but she did not want to bear his child. Nor did she want Marian to conceive ever again.
With the utmost calm, she opened her door. Robin strode past her, into the cave, looking about him for telltale signs of the crimes he believed she had committed.
He was sure she had poured something into the ground to make Marian's garden die, and he believed she had slit Arion's throat and taken his heart, balls, and tail. If for one moment he thought the witch was behind Grace's case of scarlet fever, he would lay his hands on her throat and force her to make his daughter well, or squeeze every last breath from her putrid lungs.
He had left his sick child in the expert care of both Djaq and Matilda, with Marian watching over her, promising to return with all speed after he sorted out who had killed his horse. In truth, he was so distraught over Grace's condition, he needed to take some kind of action, and his anger against the witch had driven him here.
"You have come for a spell?" the witch asked.
"You were at Locksley last night," he accused. "You killed my horse, and destroyed my wife's garden. I have reason to believe you also took my child's doll, though for what sick, evil purpose, I cannot tell."
"You are mistaken," the witch lied. "You forbid me to go to your village. I have no wish to burn, Robin of Locksley. I was not there."
The enormous toad blinked his yellow eyes at Robin. The foul smelling brews from the twin cauldrons masked the tangy stink of the witch's filthy body. The thick smoke and odors were making Robin feel sick. His head was beginning to feel foggy, and he couldn't think straight.
He needed to find proof of her crimes. He wouldn't hand her over to the sheriff to be burned, unless he was certain of her guilt. He refused to shed any more innocent blood.
"Why did you do it?" he asked angrily, taking large strides through the cavern, looking everywhere for Grace's Lucy, the missing parts of his horse, a blood soaked knife...anything! "What did I ever do to you to make you hate me?"
She wanted to accuse him again of killing her children, the twig people he had ruthlessly destroyed, but had enough shrewdness to know better than to give herself away. Instead, she approached him and put her arms around his neck, making certain to entwine her fingers through his hair. He froze.
She was holding him the way his wife so often did, sending unpleasant chills up and down his spine. He took a quick step backwards, freeing himself from her grasp. He felt her tug at his hair, but he didn't care.
What was he doing here? He couldn't find anything to implicate her. He needed to get home and see how his baby girl was faring.
Without a word, he left the cave, untied his horse's reins, and left the forest. Back in his village, he made a quick stop at Old Elspeth's cottage, and picked out a gray kitten with blue eyes from her cat's recent litter to give to Gracie.