Horses!

by Gardner Dozois

  "The golden, wonderful days passed as October drew to a close. We were always up before dawn and hunted the great vale of Waldrondale sometimes until noon. Large patches of dense wood had been left deliberately uncleared here and there and made superb coverts. I never had such a good going, not even in Leicestershire at its best. And I was with Betty, who seemed happy, too. But although we drew almost the entire valley at one time or another, there was one exception, and it puzzled me to the point of asking Can about it one morning.

  "Directly behind the Big House (it had no other name) the ground rose very sharply in the direction of the high blue hills beyond. But a giant hedge, all tangled and overgrown, barred access to whatever lay up the slope. The higher hills angled down, as it were, as if to enclose the house and grounds, two arms of high, rocky ground almost reaching the level of the house on either side. Yet it was evident that an area of some considerable extent, a smallish plateau in fact, lay directly behind the house, between it and the sheer slopes of the mountain, itself some jagged outlier of the great Appalachian chain. And the huge hedge could only have existed for the purpose of barring access to this particular piece of land.

  " It's a sanctuary,' Canler said when I asked him. `The family has a burial plot there, and we always go there on—on certain days. It's been there since we settled the area, has some first growth timber among other things, and we like to keep it as it is. But I'll show it to you before you leave if you're really interested.' His voice was incurious and flat, but again I had the feeling, almost a sixth sense, if you like, that I had somehow managed to both annoy and, odder, amuse him. I changed the subject and we spoke of the coming day's sport.

  "One more peculiar thing occurred on that day in the late afternoon. Betty and I had got a bit separated from the rest of the hunt, a thing I didn't mind one bit, and we also were some distance out from the narrow mouth of the valley proper, for the fox had run very far indeed. As we rode toward home under the warm sun, I noticed that we were passing a small, white, country church, wooden, you know, and rather shabby. As I looked, the minister, parson, or what have you, appeared on the porch, and seeing us, stood still, staring. We were not more than thirty feet apart for the dusty path, hardly a road at all, ran right next to the church. The minister was a tired-looking soul of about fifty, dressed in an ordinary suit but with a Roman collar, just like the C. of E. curate at home.

  `But the man's expression! He never looked at me, but he stared at Betty, never moving or speaking, and the venom in his eyes was unmistakable. Hatred and contempt mingled with loathing.

  "Our horses had stopped and in the silence they fidgeted and stamped. I looked at Betty and saw a look of pain on her face, but she never spoke or moved either. I decided to break the silence myself.

  " `Good day, padre,' I said breezily. `Nice little church you have here. A jolly spot, lovely trees and all.' I expect I sounded half-witted.

  "He turned his gaze on me and it changed utterly. The hatred vanished and instead I saw the face of a decent, kindly man, yes, and a deeply troubled one. He raised one hand and I thought for a startled moment he actually was going to bless me, don't you know, but he evidently thought better of it. Instead, he spoke, plainly addressing me alone.

  " `For the next forty-eight hours this church will remain open. And I will be here.'

  "With that, he turned on his heel and re-entered the church, shutting the door firmly behind him.

  " `Peculiar chap, that,' I said to Betty. `Seems to have a bit of a down on you, too, if his nasty look was any indication. Is he out of his head, or what? Perhaps I ought to speak to Can, eh?'

  " `No,' she said quickly, putting her hand on my arm. `You mustn't; promise me you won't say anything to him about this, not a word!'

  " `Of course I won't, Betty, but what on earth is wrong with the man? All that mumbo jumbo about his confounded church being open?'

  " `He—well, he doesn't like any of our family, Donald. Perhaps he has reason. Lots of people outside the valley aren't too fond of the Waldrons. And the Depression hasn't helped matters. Can won't cut down on high living and of course hungry people who see us are furious. Don't let's talk any more about it. Mr. Andrews is a very decent man and I don't want Canler to hear about this. He might be angry and do something unpleasant. No more talk now. Come on, the horses are rested, I'll race you to the main road.'

  "The horses were not rested and we both knew it, but I could never refuse her anything. By the time we rejoined the main body of the hunt, the poor beasts were blown, and we suffered a lot of chaff, mostly directed at me, for not treating our mounts decently.

  "The next day was the thirty-first of October. My stay had only two more days to run and I could hardly bear to think of leaving. But I felt glorious too. The previous night, as I had thrown the bedclothes back, preparatory to climbing in, a small packet had been revealed. Opening it, I had found a worn, tiny cross on a chain, both silver and obviously very old. I recognized the cross as being of the ancient Irish or Gaelic design, rounded and with a circle in the center where the arms joined. There was a note in a delicate hand that I knew well, since I'd saved every scrap of paper I'd ever received from her.

  "Wear this for me always and say nothing to anyone.

  "Can you imagine how marvelous life seemed? The next hunt morning was so fine it could hardly have been exceeded. But even if it had been terrible and I'd broken a leg, I don't think I'd have noticed. I was wearing Betty's family token, sent to me, secretly under my shirt, and I came very close to singing aloud. She said nothing to me, save for polite banalities, and she looked tired, as if she'd not slept too well.

  "As we rode past a lovely field of gathered shocks of maize, your `corn,' you know, I noticed all the jolly pumpkins still left lying about in the fields and asked my nearest neighbor, one of the younger cousins, if the local kids didn't use them for Hallowe'en as I'd been told in the papers.

  " `Today?' he said, and then gobbled the same words used by the old huntsman, `Sam Haines,' or perhaps `Rayne.'

  " `We don't call it that,' he added stiffly and before I could ask why or anything else, spurred his horse and rode ahead. I was beginning to wonder, in a vague sort of way, if all this isolation really could be good for people. Canler and Betty seemed increasingly moody and indeed the whole crowd appeared subject to odd moods.

  "Perhaps a bit inbred, I thought. I must try and get Betty out of here. Now apparently I'd offended someone by mentioning Hallowe'en, which, it occurred to me in passing, was that very evening. `Sam Haines' indeed!

  "Well, I promptly forgot all that when we found, located a fox, you know, and the chase started. It was a splendid one and long, and we had a very late lunch. I got a good afternoon rest, since Canler had told me we were having a banquet that evening. `A farewell party for you, Donald,' he said, `and a special one. We don't dress up much, but tonight we'll have a sort of hunt ball, eh?'

  "I'd seen no preparations for music, but the Big House was so really big that the London Symphony could have been hidden somewhere about.

  "I heard the dinner gong as I finished dressing, and when I came down to the main living room, all were assembled, the full hunt, with all the men in their soft-emerald green dress coats, to which my blue made a mild contrast. To my surprise, a number of children, although not small ones, were there also, all in party dress, eyes gleaming with excitement. Betty looked lovely in an emerald evening dress, but also very wrought up, and her eyes did not meet mine. Once again, a tremendous desire to protect her and get her out of this interesting but rather curious clan came over me.

  "But Can was pushing his way through the throng and he took me by the elbow. `Come and be toasted, Donald, as the only outsider,' he said, smiling. `Here's the family punch and the family punch bowl too, something few others have ever seen.'

  "At a long table in a side alcove, stood an extraordinary bowl, a huge stone thing, with things like runes scratched around the rim. Behind it, in his `greens,' but bareheaded, st
ood the little withered huntsman, McColl. It was he who filled a squat goblet, but as he did so and handed it to me, his eyes narrowed, and he hissed something inaudible over the noise behind me. It looked like `watch!' I was alerted, and when he handed me the curious stone cup, I knew why. There was a folded slip of paper under the cup's base, which I took as I accepted the cup itself. Can, who stood just behind me, could have seen nothing.

  "I'm rather good at conjuring tricks, and it was only a moment before I was able to pass my hand over my forehead and read the note at the same instant. The message was simple, the reverse of Alice's on the bottle.

  " `Drink nothing.' That was all, but it was enough to send a thrill through my veins. I was sure of two things. McColl had never acted this way on his own hook. Betty, to whom the man was obviously devoted, was behind this. And something else too.

  "I was in danger. I knew it. All the vague uneasiness I had suppressed during my stay, the peculiar stares, the cryptic remarks, the attitude of the local minister we had seen, all coalesced into something ominous, inchoate but menacing. These cold, good-looking people were not my friends, if indeed they were anyone's. I looked casually about while pretending to sip from my cup. Between me and each of the three exits, a group of men were standing, chatting and laughing, accepting drinks from trays passed by servants, but never moving. As my brain began to race overtime, I actually forgot my warning and sipped from my drink. It was like nothing I have had before or since, being pungent, sweet and at the same time almost perfumed, but not in an unpleasant way. I managed to avoid swallowing all but a tiny bit, but even that was wildly exhilarating, making my face flush and the blood roar through my veins. It must have showed, I expect, for I saw my host half smile and others too, as they raised their cups to me. The sudden wave of anger I felt did not show, but now I really commenced to think.

  "I turned and presented my almost full goblet to McColl again as if asking for more. Without batting an eye, he emptied it behind the cover of the great bowl, as if cleaning out some dregs, and refilled it. The little chap had brains. As again I raised the cup to my lips, I saw the smile appear on Can's face once more. My back was to McColl, blocking him off from the rest of the room, and this time his rasping, penetrating whisper was easy to hear.

  " `After dinner, be paralyzed, stiff, frozen in your seat. You can't move, understand?'

  "I made a circle with my fingers behind my back to show I understood, and then walked out into the room to meet Canler who was coming toward me.

  " `Don't stand at the punch all evening, Donald,' he said, laughing. `You have a long night ahead, you know.' But now his laughter was mocking, and his lean, handsome face was suddenly a mask of cruelty and malign purpose. As we moved about together, the faces and manners of the others, both men and women, even the children and servants, were the same, and I wondered that I had ever thought of any of them as friendly. Under their laughter and banter, I felt contempt, yes, and hatred and triumph too, mixed with a streak of pure nastiness. I was the stalled ox, flattered, fattened and fed, and the butchers were amused. They knew my fate, but I would not know until the door of the abattoir closed behind me. But the ox was not quite helpless yet, nor was the door quite slammed shut. I noticed Betty had gone, and when I made some comment or other, Can laughed and told me she was checking dinner preparations, as indeed any hostess might. I played my part as well as I could, and apparently well enough. McColl gave me bogus refills when we were alone, and I tried to seem excited, full of joie de vivre, you know. Whatever other effect was expected was seemingly reserved for after dinner.

  "Eventually, about nine I should think, we went in to dinner, myself carefully shepherded between several male cousins. These folk were not leaving much to chance, whatever their purpose.

  "The great dining room was a blaze of candles and gleaming silver and crystal. I was seated next to Betty at one end of the long table, and Canler took the other. Servants began to pour wine and the dinner commenced. At first, the conversation and laughter were, to outward appearances, quite normal. The shrill laughter of the young rose above the deeper tones of their elders. Indeed the sly, feral glances of the children as they watched me surreptitiously were not the least of my unpleasant impressions. Once again and far more strongly, the feeling of being in a den of some savage and predatory brutes returned to me, nor, this time, did it leave.

  "At my side, Betty was the exception. Her face never looked lovelier, ivory white in the candle glow, and calm, as if whatever had troubled her earlier had gone. She did not speak much, but her eyes met mine frankly, and I felt stronger, knowing that in the woman I loved, whatever came, I had at least one ally.

  "I have said that as the meal progressed, so too did the quiet. I had eaten a fairish amount, but barely tasted any of the wines from the battery of glasses at my place. As dessert was cleared off, amid almost total silence, I became aware that I had better start playing my other role, for every eye was now trained at my end of the table.

  "Turning to the girl, an unmarried cousin, on my other side, my right, I spoke slowly and carefully, as one intoxicated.

  " `My goodness, that punch must have been strong! I can scarcely move my hand, d'you know. Good thing we don't have to ride tonight, eh?'

  "Whatever possessed me to say that, I can't think, but my partner stared at me and then broke into a peal of cold laughter. As she did so, choking with her own amusement, the man on her far side, who had heard me also, repeated it to his neighbors. In an instant the whole table was a-ripple with sinister delight, and I could see Can at the far end, his white teeth gleaming as he caught the joke. I revolved my head slowly and solemnly in apparent puzzlement, and the laughter grew. I could see two of the waiters laughing in a far corner. And then it ceased.

  "A great bell or chime tolled somewhere, not too far off, and there was complete silence as if by magic. Suddenly I was aware of Canler, who had risen at his place and had raised his hands, as if in an invocation.

  " `The hour returns,' he cried. `The Blessed Feast is upon us, the Feast of Sam'hain. My people, hence to your duties, to your robes, to the sacred park of the Sheade! Go, for the hour comes and passes!'

  "It was an effort to sit still while this rigmarole went on, but I remembered the earlier warnings and froze in my seat, blinking stupidly. It was as well, for four of the men servants, all large, now stood behind and beside my chair. In an instant the room was empty, save for these four, myself and my host, who now strode the length of the table to stare down at me, his eyes filled with anger and contempt. Before I could even move, he had struck me over the face with his open hand.

  " `You, you English boor, would raise your eyes to the last princess of the Firbolgs, whose stock used yours as the meat and beasts of burden they are before Rome was even a village! Last year we had another one like you, and his polo-playing friends at Hicksville are still wondering where he went!' He laughed savagely and struck me again. I can tell you chaps, I learned real self-control in that moment! I never moved, but gazed up at him, my eyes blank, registering vacuous idiocy.

  " `The mead of the Dagda keeps its power,' he said. `Bring him along, you four, the Great Hour passes!'

  "Keeping limp, I allowed myself to be lifted and carried from the room. Through the great dark house, following that false friend, its master, we went, until at last we climbed a broad stairway and emerged under the frosty October stars. Before us lay the towering, overgrown hedge, and now I learnt the secret of it. A great gate, overgrown with vines so as to be invisible when shut, had been opened, and before me lay the hidden place of the House of Waldron. This is what I saw:

  "An avenue of giant oaks marched a quarter mile to a circular space where towered black tumuli of stone rose against the night sky. As I was borne toward these monoliths, the light of great fires was kindled on either side as I passed, and from them came an acrid, evil reek which caught at the throat. Around and over them leapt my fellow dinner guests and the servants, wearing scanty, green tunics,
young and old together, their voices rising in a wild screaming chant, unintelligible, but regular and rhythmic. Canler had vanished momentarily, but now I heard his voice ahead of us. He must have been gone longer than I thought, for when those carrying me reached the circle of standing stones, he was standing outlined against the largest fire of all, which blazed, newly kindled, behind him. I saw the cause of the horrid stench, for instead of logs, there were burning white, dry bones, a great mountain of them. Next to him stood Betty and both of them had their arms raised and were singing the same wild chant as the crowd.

  "I was slammed to the ground by my guards but held erect and immovable so that I had a good chance to examine the two heirs of the finest families in the modern United States.

  "Both were barefoot and wore thigh-length green tunics, his apparently wool, but hers silk or something like it, with her ivory body gleaming through it almost as if she were nude. Upon her breasts and belly were marks of gold, like some strange, uncouth writing, clearly visible through the gauzy fabric. Her black hair was unbound and poured in waves over her shoulders. Canler wore upon his neck a massive circular torque, also of gold, and on his head a coronal wreath, apparently of autumn leaves. In Betty's right hand was held a golden sceptre, looking like a crude attempt to form a giant stalk of wheat. She waved this in rhythm as they sang.

  "Behind me the harsh chorus rose in volume, and I knew the rest of the pack, for that's how I thought of them, were closing in. The noise rose to a crescendo, then ceased. Only the crackling of the great, reeking fire before me broke the night's silence. Then Canler raised his hands again in invocation and began a solitary chant in the strange harsh tongue they had used before. It was brief, and when it came to an end, he spoke again, but in English this time.