"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 rigamarole 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 stair and emerged under the frosty October stars. Before us lay the towering, overgrown hedge, and now I learned 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, 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 behind me.
"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 breast 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.
" 'I call to Sam'hain, Lord of the Dead, I, Tuathal, the Seventieth and One hundred, of the line of Miled, of the race of Goedel Glas, last true Ardr'i of ancient Erin, Supreme Vate of the Cor-cou Firbolgi. Oh, Lord from Beyond, who has preserved my ancient people and nourished them in plenty, the bonefires greet the night, your sacrifice awaits you!' He fell silent and Betty stepped forward. In her left hand she now held a small golden sickle, and very gently she pricked my forehead three times, in three places. Then she stepped back and called out in her clear voice.
" 'I, Morrigu, Priestess and Bride of the Dead, have prepared the sacrifice. Let the Horses of the Night attend!'
"D'ye know, all I could think of was some homework I'd done on your American Constitution, in which Washington advocated separation of church and state? The human mind is a wonderful thing! Quite apart from the reek of the burning bones, though, I knew a stench of a spiritual sort. I was seeing something old here, old beyond knowledge, old and evil. I felt that somehow not only my body was in danger.
"Now I heard the stamp of hooves. From one side, snorting and rearing, a great black horse was led into the firelight by a half-naked boy, who had trouble with the beast, but still held him. The horse was saddled and bridled and I knew him at once. It was Bran, the hunter I'd been lent all week. Behind him, I could hear other horses moving.
" 'Mount him,' shouted Canler, or Tuathal, as he now called himself. With that, I was lifted into the saddle, where I swayed, looking as doped and helpless as I could. Before I could move, my hands were caught and lashed together at the wrists with leather cords, then in turn tied loosely to the headstall, giving them a play of some inches but no more. The reins were looped up and knotted. Then my host stepped up to my knee and glared up at me.
" 'The Wild Hunt rides, Slave and Outlander! You are the quarry, and two choices lie before you, both being death. For if we find you, death by these ... and he waved a curious spear, short and broad in the blade.
" 'But others hunt on this night, and maybe when those Who Hunt Without Riders come upon your track, you will wish for these points instead. Save for children's toys, the outside world has long forgotten their Christian Feast of All Hallows. How long then have they forgot that which inspired it, ten thousand and more years before the Nazarene was slain? Now—ride and show good sport to the Wild Hunt!'
"With that someone gave Bran a frightful cut over the croup, and he bounded off into the dark, almost unseating me in the process. I had no idea where we were going, except that it was not back down the avenue of trees and the blazing fires. But I soon saw that at least two riders were herding me away at an angle down the hill, cutting at Bran's flanks with whips when he veered from the course they had set. Twice the whips caught my legs, but the boots saved me from the worst of it.
"Eventually, we burst out into a glade near the southern spur of the mountain and I saw another, smaller gate had been opened in the great hedge. Through this my poor brute was flogged, but once through it I was alone. The big house was invisible around a curve of the hill, and no lights marked its presence.
" 'Ride hard, Englishman,' called one of my herdsmen. 'Two deaths follow on your track.' With that, they turned back and I heard the gate slam. At the same time, I heard something else. Far off in the night I heard the shrill whinnying of a horse. Mingled with it and nearer was the sound of a horn, golden and clear. The horse cry was like that of no horse I have ever heard, a savage screaming noise which cut into my ear drums and raised the hackles even further on my back. At the same time I made a new discovery.
"Some sharp thing had been poking into my left thigh ever since I was placed on the horse. Even in the starlight I now could see the reason. The haft of a heavy knife projected under my leg, apparently taped to the saddle! By stretching and bending my body, I could just free it and once free I cut the lead which tethered my wrists to the head stall. As I did so, I urged Bran with my knees downhill and to the right, keeping close to the trees which grew unclipt at the base
of the mountain spur. I knew there was little time to waste, for the sound of galloping horses was coming through the night, far off, but drawing nearer by the instant! It might be the twentieth century outside the valley, but I knew it would be the last of me if that pack of green-clad maniacs ever caught up with me. The Wild Hunt was not a joke at this point!
"As I saw it I had three secret assets. One, the knife, a sturdy piece of work with an eight-inch blade, which I now held in my teeth and tried to use to saw my wrists apart. The other was the fact that I have a good eye for ground and I had ridden the length and breadth of the valley for a week. While not as familiar with the area as those who now hunted me over it like a rabbit, I was, nevertheless, not a stranger and I fancied I could find my way even at night. My third ace was Betty. What she could do, I had no idea, but I felt sure she would do something.
"The damned leather cords simply could not be cut while Bran moved, even at a walk, and I was forced to stop. It only took a second's sawing, for the knife was sharp, and I was free. I was in deep shadows, and I listened intently, while I unknotted the reins.
"The sound of many horses galloping was still audible through the quiet night but it was no nearer, indeed the reverse. It now came from off to my left and somewhat lower down the valley. I was baffled by this, but only for a moment. Canler and his jolly group wanted a good hunt. Drugged as I was supposed to be, it would never do to follow directly on my track. Instead, they were heading to cut me off from the mouth of the valley, after which they could return at leisure and hunt me down. All of this and much more passed through my mind in seconds, you know.
"My next thought was the hills. In most places, the encircling wall of mountain was far too steep for a horse. But I could leave Bran behind and most of the ground ought to be possible for an active chap on foot. By dawn I could be well out of reach of this murderous gang. As the thought crossed my mind, I urged Bran toward the nearest wall of rock. We crossed a little glade and approached the black mass of the slope, shrouded in more trees at the base, and I kept my eye peeled for trouble. But it was my mount who found it.
"He suddenly snorted and checked, stamping his feet, refusing to go a foot forward. I drew the knife from my belt, also alerted—and by a sudden awakening of a sense far older than anything merely physical. Ahead of us lay a menace of a different sort than the hunters of Waldrondale. I remembered my quondam host threatening me that something else was hunting that night, and also that the men who had driven me through the hedge called after me that two deaths were on my track.
"Before me, as I sat, frozen in the saddle, something moved in the shadows. It was large, but its exact shape was not easy to make out. I was conscious of a sudden feeling of intense cold, something I've experienced once or twice. I now know this to mean that one of what I'll call an Enemy from Outside, a foe of the spirit, is about. On my breast there was a feeling of heat as if I'd been burnt by a match. It was where I wore Betty's gift. The cross too was warning me. Then, two dim spots of yellow phosphorescence glowed at a height even with mine. A hard sound like a hoof striking a stone echoed once.
"This was enough for Bran! With a squeal of fright which sounded more like a hare than a blood horse, he turned and bolted. If I had not freed my hands I would have been thrown off in an instant, and as it was I had the very devil of a time staying on. He was not merely galloping, but bounding, gathering his quarters under him with each stride as if to take a jump. Only sheer terror can make a trained horse so forget himself.
"I did my best to guide him, for through the night I heard the golden questing note of a horn. The Wild Hunt was drawing the coverts. They seemed to be quite far down the valley and fortunately Bran was running away across its upper part, in the same direction as the big house.
"I caught a glimpse of its high, lightless gables, black against the stars as we raced over some open ground a quarter mile below it, then we were in the trees again, and I finally began to master the horse, at length bringing him to a halt. Once again, as he stood, sweated and shivered, I used my ears. At first there was nothing, then, well down the vale to my right front came the sound of the questing horn. I was still undiscovered.
"You may wonder, as I did at first, why I had heard no hounds. Surely it would have been easy for this crew to keep some bloodhounds, or perhaps smear my clothes or horse with anise and use their own thoroughbred fox hounds. I can only say I don't know. At a guess, and mind you, it's only a guess, there were other powers or elements loose that night which might have come into conflict with a normal hunting pack. But that's only a guess. Still, there were none, and though I was not yet sure of it, I was fairly certain, for even the clumsiest hound should have been in full cry on my track by now. The Wild Hunt then, seemed to hunt at sight. Again the clear horn note sounded. They were working up the slope in my direction.
"As quietly as possible, I urged Bran, who now seemed less nervous, along the edge of the little wood we were in and down the slope. We had galloped from the hill spur on the right, as one faced away from the house, perhaps two thirds of the way across the valley, which at this point was some two miles wide. Having tried one slope and met—well, whatever I had met, I would not try the other.
"My first check came at a wooden fence. I didn't dare jump such a thing at night, as much for the noise as for the danger of landing badly. But I knew there were gates. I dismounted and led Bran along until I found one, and then shut it carefully behind me. I had not heard the mellow horn note for some time and the click of the gate latch sounded loud in the frosty night. Through the large field beyond I rode at a walk. There was another gate at the far side, and beyond that another dark clump of wood. It was on the edge of this that I suddenly drew rein.
"Ahead of me, something was moving down in the wood. I heard some bulky creature shoulder into a tree trunk and the sound of heavy steps. It might have been another horse from the sound. But at the same moment, up the slope behind me, not too far away, came the thud of hooves on the ground, many hooves. The horn note blew, not more than two fields away, by the sound.
I had no choice and urged Bran forward into the trees. He did not seem too nervous, and went willingly enough. The sound ahead of me ceased and then, as I came to a tiny glade in the heart of the little wood, a dim shape moved ahead of me. I checked my horse and watched, knife ready.
" 'Donald?' came a soft voice. Into the little clearing rode Betty, mounted on a horse as dark as mine, her great black mare. I urged Bran forward to meet her.
" 'I've been looking for you for over an hour,' she whispered, her breath warm on my cheek. I was holding her as tightly as I could, our mounts standing side by side, amiably sniffing one another. 'Let me go, Donald, or we'll both be dead. There's a chance, a thin one if we go the way I've thought out.' She freed herself and sat looking gravely at me. My night vision was good and I could see she had changed into a simple tunic of what looked like doeskin and soft, supple knee boots. Socketed in a sling was one of the short, heavy spears and I reached over and took it. The very heft of it made me feel better. The glimmering blade seemed red even in the dim tree light and I suddenly realized the point was bronze. These extraordinary people went in for authenticity in their madness.
" 'Come on, quickly,' she said and wheeled her horse back the way she had come. I followed obediently and we soon came to the edge of the forest. Before us lay another gentle slope, but immediately beneath us was a sunken dirt road, which meandered away to the left and downhill between high banks, their tops planted with hedge. We slid down a sandy slope and our horses began to walk along the road, raising hardly any dust. Betty rode a little ahead, her white face visible as she turned to look back at intervals. Far away a cock crowed, but I looked at my watch and it was no more than 3 a.m. I could hear nothing uphill and the horn was silent. We rode through a little brook, our path crossing it at a pebbly ford only inches deep. Then, as we had just passed out of hearing the gurgle of the stream, a new sound broke the quiet night.
&n
bsp; "It was somewhere between a whinny and a screech and I remembered the noise I had heard as the two riders had driven me through the hedge. If one could imagine some unthinkable horse-creature screaming at the scent of blood—eagerly, hungrily seeking its prey, well, that's the best I can do to describe it.
" 'Come on, we have to ride for our lives!' Betty hissed. 'They have let the Dead Horse loose upon us. No one can stand against that.'
"With that, she urged her mount into a gallop and I followed suit. We tore along the narrow track between the banks, taking each twist at a dead run, always angling somehow downhill and toward the valley mouth.
"Then, the road suddenly went up and I could see both ahead and behind. Betty reined up and we surveyed our position. At the same time the horn blew again, but short, sharp notes this time and a wild screaming broke out. Three fields back up the long gentle slope the Wild Hunt had seen our black outlines on the little swell where we paused. I could see what looked like a dozen horsemen coming full tilt and the faint glitter of the spears. But Betty was looking back down along our recent track.
"From out of the dark hollows came a vast grunting noise, like that of a colossal pig sighting the swill pail. It was very close.
The Peculiar Exploits of Brigadier Ffellowes Page 8