by W. W. Tarn
CHAPTER VI
THE KING OF THE WOODCOCK
That night Fiona told her father that she believed she had found theway to go. They also discussed the question of catching a woodcock;with the result that Fiona was up at dawn and off to the kennelsbehind the big house, where the Urchin's father kept his dogs. Sheunderstood that she must take advantage both of the night frost andthe habits of the keeper, who was apt to lie in bed awhile when no onewas about.
The two setters stood on their hind legs to greet her, and pawed atthe bars, whining and dancing with joy. Artemis was white and brownand Apollo was white and black. Fiona threw open the door, and theywere out in a moment, tumbling over each other as they made wildrings round the grass, and dashing back in between to lick her hand.She had to sit down and wait till the first exuberance was over, andthey came and lay down at her feet with their tongues out.
"It is good to be out so early," said Apollo.
"It's so slow in the kennel," said Artemis. "And we can't even talk toeach other, because Apollo was broken in English and doesn't know anyGaelic, and I was broken by another man in Gaelic and don't know anyEnglish."
"You'll interpret, won't you?" said Apollo. "Of course we've theinternational code, but it doesn't take one much further than thepasswords."
So for the rest of the morning Fiona had not only to interpret but tomake every remark twice over, once in each language. But it will do ifthe reader takes this for granted.
"What are we going to do?" asked Apollo.
So Fiona explained to them that she wanted to catch a woodcock and askhim a question, and she hoped they would help her.
"Of course we will," said Artemis. "We know all about woodcock. Whenwe go out with himself, we find them for him and stand still, and thenhe makes a noise and they fall down dead."
"Sometimes," said Apollo.
"Generally," corrected Artemis, loyally. "Will you make them fall downdead?"
Fiona explained that she only wanted to catch one and talk to it.
"We never saw that done," said Apollo. "But we will find one, and thenyou can catch it."
"It's very early for woodcock," said Artemis. "There won't be any inthe heather on the second of October. But there may be an early pairin the ferns."
"The first ones always pitch in the ferns on Glenollisdal," saidApollo.
So to Glenollisdal they went, down the shore road and across thelittle bridge and then by the shepherd's track along the top of theblack cliffs, over grass and stones all rough and white with thefrost. The cold morning air was like new wine, and Fiona had to shadeher eyes from the low sun. Then the track left the cliffs and began toclimb up a sunless valley, across little burns beautiful with fadingferns, till between two great moorland crags it reached the pass, morea watercourse now than a track; and then came the cairn at the summitof the pass, with its glorious view of sea and mountain, and down atone's very feet the deep narrow valley that was Glenollisdal, seamedfrom crest to foot by its deep burn, which ran half its length throughfaded brown heather and then out to sea through a huge bed of dyingbracken, the whole bathed in the bright morning sun.
"We always come here the first day," said Apollo. "Oh, we are going tohave fun."
The three followed the track down to where it passed the top of thefern bed. There was a good deal of grass there, dotted with sheep, andin one place, looking well out to sea, a curious little hard circlein the grass, where no sheep ever came.
"That is the fairy ring," said Artemis. "Where they dance, you know."
"They dance on All Hallows E'en," said Apollo. "But no one ever seesthem."
"Because everyone's afraid to go and look," said Artemis.
"Please, may we start?" said Apollo.
"All you have to do is to wait till we point," said Artemis, "and thencome to us."
And the two dogs dashed off into the great fern bed, crossing eachother backwards and forwards like a pair of scissors as they quarteredit.
They were not long about it. Apollo's gallop became a sort of run, ayard or two of stealthy crawl, and he stopped dead, tail stiff andthroat distended, like a dog of marble, and looked round for Fiona.Artemis was just crossing him; she whipped round in her stride as ifshot and became a second marble image where she stood.
Fiona walked down to Apollo. But the ferns rustled a good deal as shemade her way through, and as she reached the dog's side the cock rose,five yards away, with a lazy careless flap as if it felt only thebother of being disturbed. For a moment she had a vivid impression ofthe white patches at the end of its fan of tail feathers, and then itgradually gathered speed and swept away over the side of the valley;for an instant it showed black as it crossed the sky line, and then itwas gone.
Apollo turned to Fiona with unhappy eyes and licked her hand. ButArtemis never moved a muscle.
"Come to me," she said in a low whisper.
Very quietly Fiona reached her side.
"The other bird is here," whispered Artemis, "just under my nose.Stoop down."
Fiona bent down between the stalks of the bracken. The woodcock wassitting with its back to her, a little brown bunch of feathers. Verygently she put her hand out, and even as she did so she became awareof a wise black eye looking at her, though the bird faced the otherway. Her hand closed on the empty air, and the woodcock, with awonderful spring, was well on its way to seek its mate.
"I believe I could have put a foot on it," said Artemis regretfully."But of course we are not allowed to."
"I don't know how I came to be so foolish," said Fiona. "I ought tohave spoken to it instead of trying to catch it. But I forgot."
"Better luck next time," said Apollo; "we must try again."
But though the dogs worked the whole of the ferns carefully, there wasno other bird there.
They came back and lay down beside Fiona, tongues out and panting.
"It's no use trying the heather yet, I know," said Artemis. "Birds arenever in it at this time of year."
"There are some more ferns two miles on," said Apollo doubtfully. "Isaw a bird there once, three years ago."
"I wish I knew what to do," said Fiona.
"We can leave it for a day or two and come back," said Artemis. "Thosetwo birds will be back again to look for each other."
"But they won't be so confiding again," added Apollo.
They were all so preoccupied that they never noticed the shepherd tillhe was quite close to them. He was striding down the track, a big,raw-boned man with red hair; a plaid was thrown loosely across hisshoulder; at his heels followed a jet black collie.
The dogs saw him first. It would seem that they did not like him.Every hair on their necks bristled; they shrank close to Fiona, makinglittle moaning noises in their throats, and flattening themselves asif they were trying to burrow into the ground. Their eyes were full ofterror.
"Why, Artemis, Apollo, what's the matter?" said Fiona. Then she lookedup and saw the shepherd. "Why, it's only the new shepherd and hiscollie. There's nothing to be afraid of."
"Collie!" said Apollo. "That thing's not a collie. Can't you see?"
"Shepherd!" echoed Artemis. "That thing's not a shepherd. Oh, can'tyou see?"
The shepherd came up to Fiona, and said that Miss Fiona was out earlyand was there anything he could be doing for her. He spoke in the softcorrect English of the Gael.
"I came out to catch a woodcock to talk to it," said Fiona, "and wecan't catch one."
It occurred to her, even as she spoke, that the statement sounded alittle out of the ordinary. But the rough shepherd never let the leastsign of this show on his face. He answered in the most matter-of-factway, with the gentle courtesy of the west coast, that there would notbe many woodcock in yet, and would he try to catch one for Miss Fiona?
"Oh, do you think you could?" said Fiona eagerly. "I should be sograteful."
Then the shepherd saw the trouble of the dogs. He said something tothem in a language that was neither English nor Gaelic, and waved hisown dog to go. The
collie went straight off up the moor, and sat downon the top of the nearest rock ledge, an odd little blot of black onthe brown and yellow moorland. Apollo and Artemis got up and shookthemselves violently.
"It was the international password," said Apollo. "Goodness knowswhere he got it from. But we have to recognize it."
"I'm not happy," said Artemis. "I was well brought up. I neverassociated with this sort of thing before."
Fiona, who knew that a new shepherd had been coming, could makenothing of their trouble, and did her best to smooth them down. Theshepherd led the way up the hill, and on to a little rough plateaubroken with rocks and bits of heather, lying under the main rise ofthe hill where it rounds away toward the Glenollisdal burn. "I amthinking that there should be a woodcock about here," he said.
"This is one of the earliest places in all the heather," whisperedArtemis to Fiona. "He must know this moor very well."
"It's too early yet, all the same, even for here," said Apollo.
It looked as if Apollo were right. For when at the shepherd's requestFiona threw the dogs off, they quartered the whole plateau and foundnothing.
But the shepherd stuck to his guns.
"I am thinking that there should be a bird here," he said. "Will MissFiona give me leave to try my own dog?"
Fiona nodded and called the setters to heel; the shepherd waved hishand, and the black collie came racing to him. Some collies will worka ground like a spaniel, and some will even do a little pointing, butthe black collie troubled himself neither with one nor the other. Whenthe shepherd spoke to him, he just cantered straight forward to asmall patch of heather on the sunless side of a rock, where the froststill lingered, and there sat down quite unconcerned, as though thematter in hand were altogether beneath the scope of his talents.
"I think he has a bird," said the shepherd.
"I tried that place," said Apollo. "There's nothing there."
But the shepherd had gone up to his dog and was peering carefully intothe heather. Then he beckoned Fiona.
"Does Miss Fiona see the bird?" he asked, pointing.
Fiona looked long before she saw. The woodcock had squeezed himselfright into the roots of a frost-covered clump of heather, and evenwhen the heather was parted nothing showed but his little orange tail,with its white and black points.
"Shall I catch him for Miss Fiona?" asked the shepherd; and Fionasaid, "Oh yes, please, if you will."
The shepherd knelt down and brought his two great hands slowly toeither side of the tuft of heather; then he closed them with a snap,and drew out the largest woodcock Fiona had ever seen. It struggledand thrashed at his wrists with its powerful wings.
"Will Miss Fiona take the bird now?" he said. "Just behind the wings,with her thumbs on its back."
So Fiona took her bird, and as she did so its back-seeing eye caughtthe glint of her copper bangle. It stopped thrashing with its wingsand lay quite still in her hands.
"Oh, I say," he said, "why didn't you say before, instead of employingthese people and frightening an honest bird out of his senses?"
"My dogs couldn't find you," said Fiona. "And I think it was so goodof the shepherd to find you for me."
"Shepherd!" said the woodcock. "That wasn't a shepherd. And it wasn'ta collie either."
Fiona suddenly recollected that she had not yet thanked the shepherd,and turned to do so. But the shepherd and collie were gone. They musthave walked very quickly to have turned the corner of the hillalready.
"Where did he go?" she asked Artemis. Artemis shivered.
"To his own place, I hope," said Artemis severely. "Well brought updogs should not be asked to associate with things like that."
"But it was only the new shepherd," said Fiona.
"There's the new shepherd," said Artemis, nodding toward a distantslope, where a figure with a brown collie could be seen gatheringsheep.
"What were they, then?" asked Fiona.
"Two of the Little People, of course," said Apollo. "Oh dear, oh dear,I'm afraid you'll have trouble."
"One generally dies," said Artemis, with cheerful consolation.
"But they were very nice to me indeed," said Fiona.
"Of course they were," said the woodcock. "You're privileged, youknow. _We_ all know it. And don't you mind the dogs, my dear. Theyare good creatures, but they and their forbears have lived so longwith humans that they have forgotten most of the things we know. Theyare nearly as blind as humans now, saving your presence, my dear. Andnow what is it you want with me?"
"I want to find the King of the Woodcock," said Fiona.
"Bless your heart," said the bird, "and who do you suppose We are? Younever saw a woodcock Our size before, did you?" And indeed Fiona neverhad; for he was as big as a young grouse.
"Eighteen and a half ounces, if I'm a pennyweight," said the woodcock."I am the heaviest king that we have ever had. Will you please put medown if you want to talk to me? It is hardly consonant with my royaldignity to be held. I shan't fly away; _noblesse oblige_, you know."
So Fiona put him down, and he arranged himself like a bunch offeathers on the ground, his head well back between his shoulders andhis beady black eyes looking all round him at once.
"Why didn't Apollo find you?" asked Fiona.
"No scent," said the woodcock, proudly. "I am not like a common bird.No dog can find a king woodcock; and no dog ever has. We can be beatenout of a wood, of course; my great-great-grandfather was shot likethat when the family lived in Norfolk, many years ago. So we came uphere to the open heather, and have been quite safe ever since. And nowwhat do you want, my dear?"
"I was told you could let me into Fairyland," said Fiona.
"I can let you in by the back door," the bird said. "But are youreally going to Fairyland? You'll need some courage, you know, if youare going the back way."
"Is there another way?" asked Fiona.
"There's the front door, of course," said the bird. "But no one can gothat way without an invitation. Have you an invitation?"
"No," said Fiona.
"A pity," said the woodcock. "There is no danger that way. But withoutan invitation you could not even find the door. As it is, you'll haveto go in by the back way and take your risks."
"I have to go, whatever they are," said Fiona.
"_Noblesse oblige_," said the woodcock. "Quite so, quite so. Have youbeen told about the wish?"
"Yes," said Fiona. "I know about that."
"The other thing," continued the bird, "is that you must stick to themain path. Remember that. You must not turn out of it for any reasonof any kind. You'll see lots of side paths, and you'll see otherthings too; but if you once leave the main path by so much as one stepyou'll never get home again. There are no short cuts to Fairyland."
"Thank you so much," said Fiona. "But how shall I know the main path?"
With his long bill the woodcock tweaked the point feather out of oneof his wings and gave it to her.
"This will take you through," he said. "It will point the right wayfor you; that's why it is called the point feather. Just follow it. Ifyou are frightened and want to leave your search and come home, tap onthe ground with it and you will be back in Glenollisdal. But somehow Idon't think you will. And whatever you do, don't lose it. When youreach the fairy grove, show it to the guardian, and he will let youin; and mind you don't go in unless he shows you its fellow. Oh, I'mall right, thank you; I'll have grown others long before they areneeded. There is no great rush to Fairyland on the part of people whohaven't _got_ to go, my dear."
"It all sounds so much more difficult than I thought," said poorFiona.
"Nothing worth while is ever easy," said the woodcock. "And now I'llshow you where to start. By the bye, you can't take the dogs withyou."
"This dog wouldn't go," said Artemis, shivering. "That black collie'sthere somewhere."
"Don't bother about us," said Apollo. "We'll be home long before thekeeper is out of bed."
So Fiona took a warm farewell of the two dogs, wh
o lamented her sadfate and wished her luck all in one breath, and then set off homewardwith their long swinging gallop.
"And now, if you want to be in time for the great gathering, which youhumans call Hallow E'en, you'll have to hurry," said the woodcock.
"But it's nearly a month to Hallow E'en," said Fiona.
"You'll want every minute of it," said the bird. "Come on."
And they started off for the fairy ring, the woodcock pattering alongon his little feet at a pace which would have surprised anyone who hadnever seen a woodcock do it.
"How come you to be doorkeeper?" asked Fiona, as they went.
"Hereditary," said the bird. "We used to go to all the lost lands, youknow, like Lyonesse and Lemuria and Bresil and Atlantis. We stillcross Ireland once a year and pass on into the Atlantic to salute thesite of Plato's island, before we settle in Britain. And Fairyland isonly another of the lost lands. Here we are."
They had come to the fairy ring.
"There's nothing more I can do now," said the woodcock. "A straightstep and a stout heart, my dear."
Fiona took the feather in her hand and stood in the fairy ring.