Spiderweb for Two - A Melendy Maze by Elizabeth Enright

lay in the east; the morning star, fresh as a raindrop, sparkled in the sky, and the first breeze of the day moved in the trees and shook the papery tatters of the corn shocks. The world was brushed with a spiderweb of frost.
    Tipped on a hillside, closed in its low crumbled wall, lay the forgotten churchyard. It was half overgrown; some of the headstones had fallen flat and been lashed to the earth with brambles and bindweed; others slanted sideways or leaned together, their tops just clear of the gone-to-seed goldenrod tassels and pods of Queen Anne’s lace curled up like nests for hummingbirds. An apple tree had taken root there, long ago. It leaned above the wall and dropped its leaves and apples on the earth.
    In the growing light Oliver and Randy were at work; parting the vines and brambles, reading the forgotten, ancient names.
    â€œHenrietta Ponsonby, Nathaniel Ponsonby. Lucretia Vane, Jared Vane, Octavius Elisha Vane. Darius Todworthy … Poor Darius, he’s all alone, there’s not another Todworthy in sight.”
    The east was brightening, was topaz-colored, and a little school of clouds swam in the sky above, bright as goldfishes.
    â€œThe time is going, we must hurry,” whispered Randy. The hour, the place, both caused her to whisper, and when Oliver came upon the stone that stood alone beneath the apple tree, it was in a whisper that he called his sister.
    â€œHere it is. I’ve found it.”
    Randy came and stood beside him.
    â€œâ€˜Garnet Swann,’” she read aloud. “‘Beloved wife of Jared Swann.’ Yes, Oliver, you’ve found the place at last, and look, she’s been asleep three quarters of a century.”
    Now the sun edged upward, red as a rose, benevolent, allowing mortal eyes to view it. Later it would blind them. The valley was bathed in a pink light, the hills were clear and dark. Frost turned to dew and sparkled on the grass.
    â€œWe must walk toward it. Now,” said Randy.
    With ritual steps they marched slowly through the wet tall weeds and briars, looking up and down. They came to the wall; they found nothing.
    â€œIf we just knew what to look for,” said Oliver in a worried voice. “Do you think it means for us to go over the wall? We don’t know how far east.”
    â€œI don’t think so, let’s go back and start again,” said Randy, so they went back to the stone marked Garnet Swann and walked again toward the sunrise. This time, when they came to the wall, they examined it carefully. It was very old, and grey-green lichens were stuck flat against the stones. One lichen, larger than the rest and growing just inside the wall, under a jutting stone, looked rather strange. No wonder, either, since closer inspection showed that it was held in place, most unnaturally, by strips of Scotch tape.
    â€œAha!” said Randy quietly, detaching it.
    â€œWhat will they think of next!” exclaimed Oliver, sounding so exactly like Cuffy that Randy burst out laughing.
    Underneath it, of course, was the folded clue; somewhat lichen-stained and dented by irregularities in the stone against which it had been pressed—how long?—but still quite legible.
    â€œIt’s in poetry again, of course,” said Randy. “This is what it says:
    â€œWell done! Now leave the sleeping acre to its peace.
    Â Â Â Â  The sun is risen; let it light the road.
    Â Â Â Â  Named for an emperor, in my abode,
    The fourth imprisoned clue awaits release:
    Â Â Â Â  Beneath, the hours tell their names and go.
    Â Â Â Â  Above, a voice was silenced long ago.”
    â€œThey get tougher,” said Oliver at last. “I don’t know what they’re talking about now.”
    â€œWe’ll work it out though,” said Randy, success having gone to her head. “I’m not going to be a dancer when I grow up, or an artist either. I’m going to be a counter-espionage agent.