I laid the metal on the table, and from that moment I knew that I had made an impression.
"Good God," said Sir Ralph; he used oaths of which, I reflected, Dorcas, Alison, and the Reverend James would not have approved, "where did you find this?"
I told him that it was in Josiah Polgrey's grave.
His bushy eyebrows were lifted. "What were you doing there?"
"Helping to dig it."
He had two kinds of laughter—one a wild sort of roar and the other inward when his chin shook and I think that was when he was most amused. He was amused in that way now and pleased. He spoke jerkily always as though he were in too much of a hurry to complete his sentences.
"H'm," he said. "Graveyard, eh?"
"Yes. It's important, isn't it?"
"Bronze," he said. "Looks prehistoric to me."
"That's very interesting I believe."
"Good girl!" he said. "If you find anything more, bring it to me."
He nodded in a way which I realized meant dismissal, but I had no intention of being dismissed like that.
I said: "You want me to leave you my er . . . bronze?"
He narrowed his eyes and his jaw wagged slightly. "Yours!" he bellowed. "It's not yours."
"I found it."
"Findings—keepings, eh? No, not with this sort of thing, my girl. This belongs to the nation."
"That's very strange."
"Number of things you'll find strange before you're much older."
"Is it of interest to archaeologists?"
"What do you know of archaeologists?"
"I know they dig and find things. They find all sorts of wonderful things. Roman baths and lovely tiles and things like that."
"You don't fancy yourself as an archaeologist because you found this, do you?"
"It's doing the same as they do."
"And that's what you'd like to do, is it?"
"Yes, I would. I know I'd be good at it. I'd find wonderful things that people didn't know were there in the earth."
He laughed then—the wild roar. "You fancy archaeologists are constantly finding jewels and Roman villas. You've got a lot to learn. Greater part of the time is spent digging looking for tilings of little value—things like this—the sort of things that have been found times out of number. That's what the majority of them do."
"I wouldn't," I said confidently. "I'd find beautiful things, significant things."
He laid a hand on my shoulder and led me to the door.
"You'd like to know what this is you've found, wouldn't
"Yes. After all I found it."
"I'll let you know when I get the verdict on it. And meanwhile, if you find anything else, you'll know what to do with it, won't you?"
"Bring it to you, Sir Ralph."
He nodded and shut the door on me. I went slowly down through the hall and out into the courtyard. I had lost my piece of bronze but it was pleasant to remind myself that I had contributed to the knowledge of the world.
Although my find was identified as part of a shield, possibly of the Bronze Age, and it appeared that many of its kind had been found before, it brought about several changes which were important.
In the first place it sent up my prestige in the schoolroom. When I arrived for lessons both Hadrian and Theodosia were far more respectful than they had been before. I had always thought Theodosia rather a silly little thing— although she was about a year older than I—and Hadrian was slightly older still. They were both fair, Theodosia rather fragile looking with innocent blue eyes and a chin that receded a little. I was taller than she and, in reality, almost as tall as Hadrian. I never felt the difference in our ages, and in spite of the fact that they lived in this mansion and I came from the rectory I was a kind of leader and was constantly telling them what they ought to do.
They had been informed by their father that I had found something of some importance and had had the good sense to bring it along to him. He would like to see them show as much interest as I had.
I spent the morning on and off explaining how I had dug Josiah Polgrey's grave and how I had found the object, and I drove poor Miss Graham to despair. I drew the object for them. It had become enormous in my mind; it shone like gold. It had belonged to some king, who had buried it in the earth so that I should find it.
I whispered to them that we should all get spades and dig in Carter's Meadow because that was where they thought there was a lot of treasure. That afternoon we found spades in the gardeners' sheds and set to work. We were discovered and reprimanded; but the result was that Sir Ralph decided that we might learn something about archaeology and ordered the long-suffering Miss Graham to give us lessons. Poor Miss Graham was obliged to read up on the subject and she did her best in a difficult situation. I was fascinated—far more than the others. Sir Ralph discovered this and his interest in me, which began when I discovered the bronze shield, seemed to grow.
Then Sir Edward Travers and his family came to the old Dower House. The Traverses were already friends of the Bodreans; they had visited Keverall Court many times and Sir Edward was behind the plans for Carter's Meadow. My find had increased that interest and was probably the reason why, since he was looking for a country house, Sir Edward decided on the Dower House.
Sir Edward was connected with Oxford University in some way but was constantly engaged on expeditions. His name was often in the papers and he was very well known in academic circles, but Sir Edward needed a country residence where he could be quiet to compile his finds and set it all out in book form after he returned from one of his trips, usually in far-off places.
There was a great deal of excitement when we heard they were coming. Hadrian told me that his uncle was delighted and that now nothing could stop them digging up Carter's Meadow—parson or no parson.
I was sure he was right for the poor Reverend James was not the man to go into battle. His objections were entirely due to the prodding of his more forceful parishioners. All he wanted was to be able to lead a quiet life and the chief duty of Dorcas and Alison was to keep from him anything that might disturb him. I believe he was delighted by the coming of Sir Edward, for even the most militant of his flock would not dare raise issue with such an important gentleman.
So the Traverses arrived and the Dower House became Giza House.
"Named after the Pyramids, I believe," said Dorcas, and we confirmed this by looking it up in the encyclopedia.
The dark old Dower House with the overgrown garden which had stood empty for so long was now inhabited. I could no longer so easily scare Theodosia with stories that it was haunted and dare her and Hadrian to run up the path and look through the windows. It lost none of its strangeness though. "Once a house is haunted," I told the nervous Theodosia, "it's haunted forever."
And sure enough it was not long before we began to hear strange rumors of the house which was full of treasures from all over the world. Some of them were very odd indeed, so that the servants didn't feel at home with them; and because of these strange things the place was "creepy." If it had not been for the fact that Sir Edward was such an important man whose name was often in the papers, they would not have stayed there.
So there was digging in Carter's Meadow and important tenants at Giza House. We learned that although Sir Edward was a widower he had two children—a son, Tybalt, who was grown up and at the university—and a daughter, Sabina, who was about the same age as Theodosia and myself and was therefore to share our lessons.
It was some time before I saw Tybalt but I decided to dislike him before I set eyes on him, largely because Sabina spoke of him with awe and reverence. She did not so much love as adore him. He was omniscient and omnipotent according to her. He was handsome, in fact godlike.
"I don't believe anyone is as good as that," I said scornfully, glaring at Hadrian, forcing him to agree with me. Theodosia could think what she liked; her opinion was unimportant.
Hadrian looked from me to Sabina and came down on my side. "No," he
declared, "nobody is."
"Nobody but Tybalt," insisted Sabina.
Sabina talked constantly and never minded whether anyone was listening or not. I told Hadrian this was because she lived in that strange house with her absent-minded father and those servants, two of whom were very strange indeed, for they were Egyptians named Mustapha and Absalam and wore long white robes and sandals. I had heard from our rectory cook that they gave the other servants the "creeps" and with all the peculiar things that were in that house and those two gliding about so that you never knew whether they were spying on you and you not seeing them —it was a queer household.
Sabina was pretty; she had fair curls, and big grey eyes with long golden lashes and a little heart-shaped face. Theodosia, who was quite plain, very soon adored her. I quickly saw that their friendship strengthened the alliance between Hadrian and myself. Sometimes I used to think it had been better before the Traverses came because then the three of us made a pleasant little trio. I admit that I bullied them a little. Dorcas was always telling me that I must stop trying to organize everyone and believing that what I wanted for them was the best from every point of view. It was a fact that although Hadrian and Theodosia were the children of the big house and I came from the impecunious rectory and had been allowed to have lessons in their schoolroom as a favor, I did behave rather as though I were the daughter of Keverall Court and the others were the outsiders. I had explained to Dorcas that it was just because Hadrian could never make up his mind and Theodosia was too silly to have any ideas about anything.
Then there was Sabina, good-natured, her lovely hair always falling into place in a manner most becoming, while my thick straight dark locks were always escaping in disorder from anything with which I tried to bind them. Her grey eyes would sparkle with gaiety when she spoke of frivolous things or shine with fervor when she talked of Tybalt. She was a charming girl, whose presence had changed the entire atmosphere of our schoolroom.
Through her we learned of life in Giza House. How her father was shut in his room for days and silent-footed Mustapha or Absalam took his meals to him on trays. Sabina had luncheon in a small dining room just off the schoolroom at Keverall as I did each day except Saturdays and Sundays, but in Giza House when her father was working she often had meals alone or with her companion-housekeeper, Tabitha Grey, who gave her lessons at the piano. She always referred to her as Tabby and I christened her the Grey Tabby which amused them all. I pictured her as a middle-aged woman, with greying dusty-looking hair, grey skirts, and dull muddy-colored blouses. I was very surprised eventually to meet a striking-looking youngish woman.
I told Sabina that she was no good at describing anything. She had made Grey Tabby sound like a dowdy old woman and I was sure that that wonder hero Tybalt would turn out to be a pale-faced youth with eyes ruined by looking at too much crabbed writing on ancient manuscripts—which he must have done, mustn't he, since he was so clever—round-shouldered and knowing absolutely nothing about anything but long dead people and what weapons they had used in battle.
"One day you may be able to see for yourself," said Sabina laughing.
We could hardly wait. She had so played on our imaginations—particularly mine which Alison had once said worked overtime—that this miraculous brother of hers was never far from my thoughts. I was longing to see him. I had so built up this picture of the stooping bespectacled scholar that I believed it to be true and had forced Hadrian to do the same. Theodosia took Sabina's version. "After all," she said, "Sabina's seen him. You haven't."
"People get bemused," I said. "She sees him through rose-colored spectacles."
We could hardly wait when the time came for him to come down from Oxford. Sabina was exalted. "Now you will see for yourselves." One morning she came in in tears because Tybalt was not coming, after all. He was going up to Northumberland on a dig and he would no doubt spend the entire vacation up there. Sir Edward was going to join him.
Instead of Tybalt we had Evan Callum, who was a friend of Tybalt. Wishing to earn a little money, he was going to spend the period before he went back to the university grounding us in the rudiments of archaeology, a subject in which he was quite proficient.
I forgot my disappointment about Tybalt and threw myself with fervor into my new studies. I was much more interested in the subject than the others. Sometimes in the afternoons I would go down to Carter's Meadow with Evan Callum and he would show me something of the practical work which had to be done.
Once I saw Sir Ralph there. He came over to speak to me.
"Interested, eh?" he said.
I replied that I was.
"Found any more bronze shields?"
"No. I haven't found anything."
He gave me a little push. "Finds don't come often. You started off with yours." His jaw wagged in the amused way, and I had a notion that he was rather pleased to see me there.
One of the workers who had come down with the party showed me how to piece a broken pot together. "First aid," he called it, until it could be treated properly and perhaps find its way into a museum. He showed me how to pack a piece of pottery which had been put together in this "first-aid" manner and which was to be sent away to the experts who would restore it and place it in its period where it might or might not betray some little detail of how life was lived four thousand years before.
I had dreamed of finding something in Carter's Meadow; golden ornaments, things that I had heard had been found in tombs. This was very different. I was disappointed for a while and then I began to develop a burning enthusiasm for the task itself. I could think of little else than the wonder of uncovering the record of the rocks.
Our lessons with Evan Callum were taken in the afternoons, because the mornings were spent with Miss Graham or Oliver Shrimpton learning what were called the three Rs. Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic. In addition, Theodosia, Sabina, and I had to do needlework with Miss Graham and three mornings a week we worked for an hour on our samplers. The alphabet had to be worked, a proverb, our names, and the date. Naturally we chose the shortest proverb we could find but even so the task was laborious. Horrible little cross stitches on a piece of cotton and if one stitch was too large or too small it had to be unpicked and put right. I was in revolt against such time wasting and I was so frustrated that my sampler suffered through it. There was music and we strummed on the piano under
Miss Graham's supervision, but now we had Grey Tabby it was decided that she should give the music lessons. So with our periodic lessons in archaeology our education was running on quite unconventional lines. We had our teachers from three sources—Miss Graham from Keverall Court, Grey Tabby and Evan Callum through Giza House, and from the rectory Oliver Shrimpton. Dorcas was delighted. It was an excellent way, she said, of three families pooling their educational resources and providing an excellent education for the young people involved. She doubted that anywhere in the country a girl was getting such a well-grounded training. She hoped, she added, that I was making full use of it.
What did intrigue me were the sessions with Evan Callum. I told him that when I was grown up I should go with expeditions to the far places of the world. He replied that he thought that as a female I might find this difficult unless I married an archaeologist; but all the same he encouraged me. It was gratifying to have such an apt pupil. We were all interested but my natural enthusiasm was perhaps more intense and more obvious.
I became particularly fascinated by the Egyptian scene. There was so much to be discovered there. I loved hearing about that old civilization; the gods that were worshiped, the dynasties, the temples that had been discovered; I caught my enthusiasm from Evan. "There's a treasure store in the hills of the desert, Judith," he used to say.
Of course I pictured myself there, making fantastic discoveries, receiving the congratulations of people like Sir Edward Travers.
I had imagined myself having long conversations with him but he, I must say, was a disappointment. He never seemed to see any of us.
He had a strange far-away look in his eyes as though he were looking far back into the past.
"I expect that awful old Tybalt is just like him," I said to Hadrian.
Tybalt had become a new word which I had introduced into our vocabulary. It meant "mean, despicable." Hadrian and I used to tease Sabina with it.
"I don't care," she said, "nothing you say can change Tybalt."
I was fascinated by Giza House though and although I was a hopeless musician I used to look forward to going there. As soon as I entered the house I would become excited. There was something peculiar about it. "Sinister," I told Hadrian who agreed as he usually did with me.
In the first place it was dark. The bushes which surrounded the house might have been responsible for that, but in the house there were so many" rich velvet curtains— not only at windows but over doors and alcoves in which were often strange images. It was so thickly carpeted that you rarely heard people come and go and I always had the sensation in that house that I was being watched.
There was a strange old woman who lived at the top of this house in what appeared to be an apartment of her own. Sabina referred to her as Old Nanny Tester.
"Who is she?" I demanded.
"She was my mother's Nanny and Tybalt's and mine."
"What's she doing up there?"
"She just lives up there."
"But you don't want a nanny now surely."
"We don't turn old servants out when they have served us many years," said Sabina haughtily.
"I believe she's a witch."
"Believe what you like, Judith Osmond. She's old Nanny Tester."
"She spies on us. She's always peering out of the window and dodging back when we look up."
"Oh don't take any notice of her," said Sabina.
Every time I went to the place I looked up to the top window for Nanny Tester. I had convinced myself that it was a strange house in which anything could happen.
Curse of the Kings Page 3