I Am David

by Anne Holm

  “I’m afraid of you,” he said softly in as steady a voice as he could muster. “You’re sure to notice I come from the camp, and then you’ll bite me. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” David could see the dog as it went on sniffing round him like a big black shadow against the darkness. Then it lay down by his side, pushing and turning until they were lying back to back. It yawned very loudly, then it gave a sigh and fell asleep.

  It did not bite him, and David was not nearly so cold in the night, for the dog was big and kept him warm. It was called King.

  It often growled at the farmer’s children, and David knew it was not very fond of the farmer, either, though he rarely struck it, no doubt because it was a good sheepdog, and in the summer when the animals were out to graze he could not do without it.

  But whenever the dog saw David, it would wag its tail, and it went to sleep with him every night.

  David gradually began to grow fond of it. One evening as he lay awake wondering if the winter would ever come to an end, he held his hand out to the dog when it came to lie down beside him. He did it without thinking. Perhaps he had missed it and wanted it to come and share its warmth with him. He found himself touching its head, feeling the roundness of its skull under his hand and liking the firm warm feel of it. The dog did not move, and David let his hand glide slowly over the dog’s thick coat, just once.

  Then he took his hand away and lay still again.

  The dog lifted its head and turned towards him, and David felt its warm wet tongue carefully licking his hand.

  And so David and the dog became friends.

  But David was beginning to grow impatient. It seemed as if that winter would go on for ever, and he wanted to be up and on his way, on and on until he came to Denmark where he would try to find the woman who had changed everything. Then he would no longer be just a boy wandering aimlessly and always appearing strange to other people, but one who knew where he was going to.

  He tried to avoid taking it for granted that she would be glad he was still alive, for he obviously could not be sure she would. Having always assumed that he was dead, she might find it difficult to get used to the idea that he was David.

  But he found it difficult not to let his thoughts run away with him! Now and then he would find himself in a wonderful, happy day-dream where she would see at once that he was David and would want to love him just as the children’s father and mother loved them. then he would have a place where he belonged and could ask about all the things he did not know. She would say “my son” when she spoke of him, and he need never be afraid again.

  And as his thoughts ran on, he would tell himself that she was surrounded with fine things, understood music and loved and appreciated beauty. He thought of all the things he could tell her. He would not want to say anything about the most dreadful things he had seen, but he would talk about Johannes and all that he had seen and learnt since his escape. And about Maria. It would be like staying with Signora Bang, only much, much better, for now he would belong.

  There was a king in Denmark, too — it was a free country. If it all turned out like that, there was nothing he could think of good enough to do in return for the God of the green pastures and still waters.

  It could not be quite like that, not quite so wonderful, but it would be good. David longed for the winter to pass so that he could be on his way again.

  Then one morning the sun crept into the stable through a tiny little window high up under the roof, a window that had been covered thick with frost all the time he had been with the farmer.

  David’s heart began to beat faster. As he lay there perfectly still he had the impression that if he moved, that weak little ray of sunshine might disappear. He had not seen the sun for such a long time that he had almost forgotten its existence.

  If he got up and stretched as high as he could, he might just be able to touch the pale little beam of light with his hand. Suddenly it was the most important thing in the world to reach up to the sunlight, but however hard he stretched the sun would not reach farther than the tips of his fingers.

  That evening as he lay awake, he heard the farmer push the great bar into place across the stable door!

  Then David knew that spring was on the way. It would come first to the valley below. The farmer took good care now that David should have no opportunity of looking down there, so that he should not see the signs of spring. Later it would come to the mountain pastures. David worked hard every day, and so the farmer would keep him imprisoned in the stable as long as he could. And when he could no longer hide the fact that spring had come and there was no more snow to help him to guard David, he would call in the police. That would be the end. They would come and take him back to the camp.

  David stared into the darkness. He would never get away, never. The bar was as thick as a tree-trunk, and it would take him many, many nights to hack through it with his knife. And the farmer would see where he had worked at it the very first morning.

  “God of the green pastures and still waters, why have you done it?” asked David. “What have I done wrong? I rescued Maria from the fire and saved her life so that I could thank you … And all through this long winter I haven’t complained, and I haven’t asked you to make it better, though I’ve got two lots of help left over from that time with Maria … You must know the farmer and his family are evil people and I hate them. And I thought perhaps it was you who got Signora Bang to paint me so that I could find the picture of the woman who was my mother. I chose you, and I can’t alter that now, but I want you to know that I think you’re cruel, just like the farmer here, and Carlo, and all that belong to them. And I suppose you’ll never help me again, even if I do have some help to come, because you’re tired of me. I’m sorry I didn’t choose a better God. I’m David. Amen.”

  David felt a little better now. It was good to get it off his chest. Then he began to feel frightened. Suppose God grew terribly angry when he was criticized! Suppose he kept hostages just as they did … then some harm might befall Maria. He couldn’t do very much to David but let him die. Oh, yes, worse than that: he could let him be taken back to the camp and make him live there. But it would be worse still if he did anything to Maria.

  But it was true that he was cruel. David had waited patiently all the winter and put up with things without complaining and whimpering. And then God let the farmer bar the door, and it was only at night-time that David could get away.

  David wasted two precious nights before he realized where the trouble lay.

  And he might have known right away, for Johannes had once told him. They had heard one of the guards put the blame for some neglect of duty on to another who had retorted that it was the fault of a third man, and Johannes had said to David, “Let me never hear you say it’s someone else’s fault. It often is, but you must never shirk your own responsibility. There’s always some way in which you’re at fault, too, and you must discover that fault and learn to recognize it and take the consequences … not only because it’s the only honourable thing to do, but also because it’s the easier way. You can’t change others, but you can do something about a fault in yourself.”

  He had told God plainly what the fault was! He had said God was cruel like Carlo and the farmer and all bad people, when perhaps God just wanted to teach him where his own fault lay! He had been cruel himself. He was not the only one who had waited patiently without complaining. Carlo had, too … and David had taken no notice. Carlo had said he was sorry, several times, and David had refused to forgive him. But suppose Carlo was not really evil, suppose he were only rather stupid … He had never tried to get his own back when David would not talk to him. On the contrary, the children’s mother had told their father that Carlo had done his utmost to be good friends with David and had been very upset when David would not respond.

  David sat up in the dark. He must get away from here. There must be some way, and he would have to find it. He remembered the address of the house; he could write a
letter and buy a stamp. If he let himself remain a prisoner, Carlo would never get to know that David had discovered he was not perhaps really evil at all, but only stupid.

  The door was impossible and the window was too small …

  But if spring were not in too great a hurry to come up the mountainside, then he might be able to take advantage of the snow! He could cut a hole in the stable wall, in the end farthest from the house so that no one would hear him at work, and then dig a tunnel through the snow which lay piled up to the roof, and so get out that way, some distance from the house!

  During the days that followed David was so sleepy in the daytime that he made a mess of everything. He had to stay awake all night in order to get on with his plan. Fortunately the stable was a wooden building. His knife grew blunter and blunter, but at last he managed to hack out a big square hole large enough to get through.

  He replaced the loose boards every morning and put a bucket in front of them so that the farmer should not discover the hole. Then he began digging out the snow. The bucket came in useful and he emptied the snow he dug out into the beasts’ feeding trough. It was a good thing the farmer was so stupid or he would certainly have wondered why the animals were no longer thirsty! However, it was a bigger job than David had imagined, and he had to get a little sleep every night. He was very much afraid the spring would come too early and the snow begin to thaw, perhaps even collapse on top of him in the tunnel. He was also afraid that in the end the farmer would begin to ask himself why David was so sleepy in the daytime instead of just grumbling at him.

  He still kept his hands off David. One day he would have struck him if the dog had not placed himself in front of David and stood there growling. David was puzzled, but when he realized the dog was ready to protect him against the farmer, he went into the stable and cried. He was overcome by the thought that a creature wanted to protect him although he had done nothing to deserve it.

  But that very evening David overheard the farmer tell his wife that the youngster would have to be handed over to the police right away because he had got a hold of the dog.

  What silly nonsense, David thought angrily. He had never, never had a hold over anybody, or wanted to have. And if he ever got such a hold, without being able to help it, he would not make use of it. A hold over others, brute force, violence, that was all they ever thought of.

  He would have to get away that night.

  The tunnel was twice his own length. He did not know if it were long enough, but it would have to do — he had no more time. When it was dark and the farmer and his family were at supper, David slipped out and thrust a long broomstick through the snow behind the stable just where he reckoned the tunnel ended. Half the broomstick stuck up out of the snow!

  That meant he would be able to get through that night. But it also meant that if the farmer spotted the stick he would undoubtedly guess what David was up to …

  David waited with beating heart for the farmer’s footsteps when he came to bar the door. Would he take a walk round now that it was no longer snowing?

  But the farmer went straight in again — it was still very cold out.

  David fought down his feeling of nausea — he always felt sick when he was most frightened. But that night he had no time to stop. He wouldn’t be sick. But he was in spite of that …

  The dog was uneasy that evening. First it lay watching him as he worked at the tunnel, its eyes shining in the dark, and then it tried to help him with the digging, trotting backwards and forwards and scrabbling in the snow just where David was going to put the bucket. After a while it got the idea of placing both its forepaws on the bucket and pushing so that it bit into the snow more easily. The dog whined a little now and then and followed David with its eyes while he was looking for his bundle and packing his things together. Fortunately there had been nothing in it the farmer could find a use for! He had gone through it thoroughly and thrown it back to David.

  David tidied himself up as well as he could in the darkness, and carefully disentangled Maria’s cross which he had tied firmly inside the belt of his trousers so that he should not lose it. As he fastened the chain round his neck he said softly to the dog, “I must go now. Thank you for keeping me so warm at night, King, but most of all for wanting to protect me against them. I’ve never known what it was like before to have someone who wanted to protect me. Goodbye.”

  He took a firm hold of the dog’s thick warm neck and laid his head against it, and King licked him enthusiastically round the chin.

  Then David crawled into the tunnel until he came to the hole he made by wriggling the broomstick round. The dog followed him, but David said, “No, King. You must stay here where you get food every day. Goodbye.”

  And so he was out in the open. It was still very, very cold, but by listening to the conversation of the farmer and his wife he had found out how to get down to the road that wound on through the mountains, and perhaps it would not be quite so cold farther down now spring was on its way. It was already April.

  David hurried along as fast as he dared. the night was still, and clear enough for him to see where he was going. An hour passed in half-scrambling, half-walking down to where the road should be — and then he saw it.

  Men had begun to clear it to make a way through the snow, but it would be some time yet before a car would be able to drive along it. David could see where the road lay, however, and he was able to walk without too much difficulty. And the going would soon be easier, for he knew he was high up in the neighbourhood of a pass called the St Gotthard, and farther down spring would be more advanced.

  He looked back over his shoulder at the white mountain. The winter had come to an end at last, then — and he had his freedom once more. He was glad he had discovered the meaning of the barred door. Everything had gone smoothly since then. Yes, he had made a good choice after all when he had chosen the God of the green pastures and still waters! He was very powerful, and the fact that He expected you to think for yourself and do something in return for His help did not matter, as long as you could work things out.

  David did not know how long he had been aware of the dark dot up on the mountainside. It was moving towards him.

  He was not yet free! He turned and ran. the moon was shining now. If he could reach the turn of the road where it swept round a spur of rock, he might be able to dig himself into the snow before the farmer arrived on the scene.

  David never knew how he managed to do it. Everything went black in front of his eyes as he lay in the snow.

  Then a warm wet feeling on his face woke him up.

  It was not the farmer after all! It was the dog who wanted to go with him!

  It trotted along by his side, sometimes running on ahead but always returning to keep him company, and every time he spoke to it, it would wag its tail.

  David breathed deeply, hardly noticing the cold bite in the air. He was David. He was free and strong. He was on the move again, but this time he knew where he was making for. There might be many difficulties ahead before he reached his goal, but difficulties could be overcome. He still had one more promise of help left over from God, and he had the dog who was going with him of its own free will. The long winter had passed, and he was going down to meet the spring.

  8

  The spring was beautiful. It was still cold the first night he had to spend out, but he found a stable and he and the dog slept close together. The next day spring had really arrived.

  He had some difficulty with his money. He still had money with him from Italy, for he had earned quite a lot in Milan and he had not spent it all before winter overtook him and he found himself a prisoner at the farm. But when he went into a shop, he was told that his money was no good in Switzerland and he would have to change it in a bank. He had been afraid to go, in case the farmer had put the police on to him. But he had gone nevertheless, for he had to have bread and King was not used to being so hungry.

  But he had also managed to earn some money which
he could use in Switzerland. He had been lucky, for he did not find it easy to get work among the Swiss — they all looked so dour, as if they never laughed.

  Their country was very beautiful. The sun shone upon the white snow-caps of the great mountain peaks and turned them to a glowing pink. In the valleys the grass was a startling green, and the houses were surrounded by trees covered in white and pink blossom. The first time David saw it, he found himself smiling.

  The fine delicate blossom brought Maria to mind. A tree in full bloom was among the most beautiful of things, and David’s smile came unbidden. Yes, it was good to be alive.

  When he had provided himself with money he could use, he bought a stamp and an envelope. The letter was not very neat, for he had written it sitting on the grass with the pad on his knee. But he could not feel easy in his mind until it was done — he did not want God to think he had forgotten the lesson of the barred door!

  So David wrote:

  “To Carlo.

  “Carlo, I want you to know I’m no longer so sure you’re bad. Perhaps you’re only stupid. And so I’ll stop hating you, because I only hate those that are evil. But if you ever use force again and I get to know about it, then I shall hate you again. Will you thank your parents for writing the letter in the paper. I saw it. And will you say I’ve written to you. Tell your parents and Andrea and the two little ones and Maria. Tell Maria first, and tell her I’ve seen a tree full of bloom that’s made me think of her.

  “David”

  He wrote “Carlo” on the envelope, and then the children’s father’s full name and the name of the town near where the house lay and last of all “Italy”. It took him some time to find out what a letter-box looked like in Switzerland, but he finally succeeded.