The Secret of Killimooin tss-4

by Enid Blyton

  He sat up when the children dismounted. The children saw that his strange dark eyes were blind. There was no light in them. They could see nothing. But it was a happy face they looked on, and the goatherd spoke to them in a deep, musical voice.

  “You are come!” he said. “I heard you down the mountain two hours since. I have been waiting for you.”

  “How did you know we were coming to see you?” asked Paul in astonishment.

  Beowald smiled. It was a strange smile, for although his mouth curved upwards, his eyes remained empty and dark.

  “I knew,” said Beowald. “I know all that goes on in my mountains. I know the eagles that soar above my head. I know the wolves that howl in the night. I know the small flowers that grow beneath my feet, and the big trees that give me shade. I know Killimooin as no one else does.”

  “Well, Beowald, do you know anything about the Secret Forest then?” asked Paul, eagerly. The other children could now understand what was said in the Baronian language, though they were not able to speak it very well as yet. They listened eagerly for Beowald’s answer.

  Beowald shook his head. “I could take you where you can see it,” he said. “But there is no way to it. My feet have followed my goats everywhere in these mountains, even to the summits — but never have they leapt down the other side. Not even for goats is there any path.”

  The children were disappointed. “Are there robbers here?” asked Jack, trying to speak in Baronian. Beowald understood him.

  “Sometimes I hear strange men at night,” he said. “They creep down the mountain path, and they call to one another as the owls do. Then I am afraid and I hide in my cave, for these robbers are fierce and wild. They are like the wolves that roam in the winter, and they seek men to rob and slay.”

  “Where do the robbers live?” asked Paul, puzzled.

  Beowald shook his head, gazing at the little prince with his dark blind eyes. “That is a thing I have never known,” he said. “They are men without a home. Men without a dwelling-place. That is why I fear them. They cannot be human, these men, for all men have a dwelling-place.”

  “That’s silly,” said Jack, in English. “All men have to live somewhere, even robbers! Paul, ask Beowald if they could live somewhere in a mountain cave, as he does.”

  Paul asked the goatherd, but he shook his head. “I know every cave in the mountains,” he said. “They are my caves, for only I set foot in them. I live up here all the summer, and only in the cold winter do I go down to the valley to be with my mother. In the good weather I am happy here, with my goats and my music.”

  “Play to us again,” begged Peggy. The goatherd put his wooden flute to his lips and began to play a strange little tune. The goats around lifted their heads and listened. The little kids came quite near. A great old goat, with enormous curling horns, stepped proudly up to Beowald and put his face close to the goatherd’s.

  Beowald changed the tune. Now it was no longer like the spring that ran down the mountain-side, bubbling to itself. It was like the gusty wind that blew down the hills and swept up the valleys, that danced and capered and shouted over the pine trees and the graceful birches.

  The children wanted to dance and caper too. The goats felt the change in the music and began to leap about madly. It was an odd sight to see. Jack looked at the blind youth’s face. It was completely happy. Goats, mountains — and music. Beowald wanted nothing more in his quiet, lonely life!

  A Day in the Mountains

  “Can’t we have lunch here with Beowald?” asked Paul, suddenly. “I feel very hungry, Ranni. It would be lovely to sit here in the wind and the sun and eat our food, listening to Beowald.”

  “I expect the goatherd would rather eat with you than play whilst you gobble up all the food!” said Ranni with a laugh. “Ask him if he will eat with you.”

  The goatherd smiled when he heard what Ranni said. He nodded his head, gave an order that scattered his goats, and sat quite still, gazing out over the valleys below as if he could see everything there.

  “Where do you sleep at night?” asked Paul. “Where is your cave?”

  “Not far from here,” answered Beowald. “But often I sleep in the daytime and walk at night.”

  “But how can you find your way then?” said Peggy, thinking of the darkness of the mountain-side and its dangerous ledges and precipices.

  “It is always dark for me,” said Beowald. “My ears see for me, and my feet see for me. I can wander in these mountains for hours and yet know exactly where I am. The pebbles beneath my feet, the rocks, the grass, the flowers, they all tell me where I am. The smell of the pine trees, the scent of the wild thyme that grows nearby, the feel of the wind, they tell me too. I can go more safely over this steep mountain with my blind eyes than you could go, seeing all there is to be seen!”

  The children listened to the blind goatherd, as Ranni and Pilescu set out the lunch. There were sandwiches for everyone, and hard, sweet little biscuits to eat with cheese made from goats’ milk. Beowald ate with them, his face happy and contented. This was a great day in his life!

  “Beowald, take us up to where we can see the Secret Forest,” begged Paul. “Is it very far?”

  “It will be two hours before we get there,” said the goatherd. He pointed with his hand, and it seemed to the children as if he must surely see, if he knew where to point. “The way lies up there. It is steep and dangerous. But your ponies will take you safely.”

  The children felt thrilled at the idea of seeing the Secret Forest from the summit of the mountain. They were very high up now, though the summit still seemed miles away. The air was cold and clear, and when the wind blew, the children wrapped their fur-lined cloaks around them. They could not imagine how Beowald could wear nothing but trousers.

  When they had eaten all they could, they stood up. Ranni fetched the little ponies, who had been nibbling at the short grass growing where the mountain-side was least rocky. The children sprang into the saddles and the ponies jerked their heads joyfully. Now, they thought, they were going back home!

  But they were mistaken. Beowald led the way up a steep, rocky track that even goats might find difficult to tread.

  “I can’t think how Beowald knows the way,” called Peggy to Nora. “There isn’t a sign of any path, so far as I can see.”

  “It’s probably one that only the goats know,” said Ranni. “See, that old goat with the great curling horns is before us. It almost looks as if he is leading the way!”

  “Ah, my old one knows when I need him,” said the goatherd, and he put his flute to his mouth. He played a few merry little notes and the big goat came leaping lightly down to him. “Stay by me, old one,” said Beowald.

  The goat understood. He trotted in front of Beowald, and waited for him when he leapt up on to a rock.

  Beowald was as nimble as a goat himself, and it was amazing to the children to think that a blind youth should be so sure-footed. But then Beowald knew every inch of the mountain-side.

  Up they went and up. Sometimes the way was so steep that the ponies almost fell as they scrambled along, and sent crowds of stones rumbling down the mountain-side. Ranni and Pilescu began to be doubtful about going farther. Ranni reined in his fat little pony.

  “Beowald! Is the way much steeper?” he asked. “This is dangerous for the children.”

  “Ranni! It isn’t!” cried Paul indignantly. “I won’t go back without seeing over the top. I won’t!”

  “We shall soon be there,” said Beowald, turning his dark eyes to Ranni. “I can smell the forest already!”

  The children all sniffed the air eagerly, but they could smell nothing. They wished they had ears and nose like Beowald’s. He could not see, but he could sense many things that they could not.

  They came to a narrow ledge and one by one the ponies went round it, pressing their bodies close against the rocky side of the mountain, for a steep precipice, with a fall of many hundreds of feet, was the other side! Nora and Peggy would no
t look, but the boys did not mind. It was exciting to be so high.

  The old goat rounded the ledge first, and Beowald followed. “We are here!” he called.

  The ledge widened out round the bend — and the children saw that they were on the other side of Killimooin Mountains! They were not right at the top of the mountain they were on, but had rounded a bend on the shoulder, and were now looking down on the thing they wanted so much to see — the Secret Forest!

  “The Secret Forest!” cried Paul, and Jack echoed his words.

  “The Secret Forest! How big it is! How thick and dark! How high we are above it!”

  All eight of them stared down into the valley that lay hidden and lost between the big ring of mountains. Only Beowald could not see the miles upon miles of dark green forest below, but his eyes seemed to rest on the valley below, just as the others’ did.

  “Isn’t it mysterious?” said Jack. “It seems so still and quiet here. Even the wind makes no sound. I wish I could see that spire of smoke I thought I saw when we flew down low over the forest in the aeroplane.”

  But there was no smoke to be seen, and no sound to he heard. The forest might have been dead for a thousand years, it was so still and lifeless.

  “It’s funny to stand here and look at the Secret Forest, and know you can’t ever get to it,” said Mike. He looked down from the ledge he was standing on. There was a sheer drop down to the valley below, or so it seemed to the boy. It was quite plain that not even a goat could leap down.

  “Now you can see why it is impossible to cross these mountains,” said Ranni. “There is no way down the other side at all. All of them are steep and dangerous like this one. No man would dare to try his luck down that precipice, not even with ropes!”

  The girls did not like looking down such a strange, steep precipice. They had climbed mountains in Africa but none had been so steep as this one.

  “I want to go back now,” said Nora. “I’m feeling quite giddy.”

  “It is time we all went,” said Ranni, looking at his watch. “We must hurry too, or we shall be very late.”

  “I can take you another way back,” said Beowald. “It will be shorter for you to go to the castle. Follow me.”

  With his goats around him, the blind youth began to leap down the mountain-side. He was as sure-footed as the goats, and it was extraordinary to watch him. The ponies followed, slipping a little in the steep places. They were tired now, and were glad to be going home.

  Down they all went and down. Nora gave a sudden shout that made the others jump. “I can see Killimooin Castle. Hurrah! Another hour and we’ll be home!”

  They rounded a bend and then suddenly saw a strange place built into the rocky mountain-side. They stopped and stared at it.

  “What’s that?” asked Paul. Ranni shook his head. He did not know and neither did Pilescu.

  “It looks like some sort of temple,” said Nora, who remembered seeing pictures of stone temples in her history book. But this one was unusual, because it seemed to be built into the rock. There was a great half-broken archway, with roughly-carved pillars each side.

  “Beowald! Do you know what this place is?” asked Jack. The goatherd came back and stood beside Jack’s pony.

  “It is old, very old,” he said. “It is a bad place. I think bad men once lived there, and were turned into stone for their wickedness. They are still there, for I have felt them with my hands.”

  “What in the world does he mean?” said Peggy, quite frightened. “Stone men! He’s making it up!”

  “Let’s go and see,” said Jack, who was very seldom afraid of anything.

  “No, thank you!” said the girls at once. But the boys badly wanted to see inside the queer, ruined old place. Beowald would not go with them. He stayed with the two girls.

  “Come on. Let’s see what these wicked stone men are!” said Jack, with a grin. He dismounted from his pony, and passed through the great broken archway. It was dark inside the queer temple. “Have you got a torch, Mike?” called Jack. Mike usually had a torch, a knife, string, and everything anyone could possibly want, somewhere about his person. Mike felt about and produced a torch.

  He flashed it on — and the boys jumped in fright. Even Ranni and Pilescu jumped. For there, at the back of the temple-like cave, was a big stone man, seated on a low, flat rock!

  “Oooh!” said Paul, and found Ranni’s hand at once.

  “It’s an old statue!” said Jack, laughing at himself, and feeling ashamed of his sudden fright. “Look — there are more, very broken and old. Aren’t they odd? However did they get here?”

  “Long, long ago the Baronians believed in strange gods,” said Ranni. “These are probably stone images of them. This must be an ancient temple, forgotten and lost, known only to Beowald.”

  “That sitting statue is the only one not broken,” said Jack. “It’s got a great crack down the middle of its body though — look. I guess one day it will fall in half. What a horrid face the stone man has got — sort of sneering.”

  “They are very rough statues,” said Pilescu, running his hand over them. “I have seen the same kind in other places in Baronia. Always they were in mountain-side temples like this.”

  “Let’s go home!” called Nora, who was beginning to be very tired. “What sort of stone men have you found? Come and tell us.”

  “Only statues, cowardy custard,” said Jack, coming out of the ruined temple. “You might just as well have seen them. Gee-up, there! Off we go!”

  Off they went again, on the downward path towards Killimooin Castle, which could be seen very plainly now in the distance. In a short while Beowald said goodbye and disappeared into the bushes that grew just there. His goats followed him. The children could hear him playing on his flute, a strange melody that went on and on like a brook bubbling down a hill.

  “I like Beowald,” said Nora. “I’d like him for a friend. I wish he wasn’t blind. I think it’s marvellous the way he finds the path and never falls.”

  The ponies trotted on and on, and at last came to the path that led straight down and round to the castle steps. Ranni took them to stable them, and Pilescu took the five tired children up the steps and into the castle.

  They ate an enormous late tea, and then yawned so long and loud that Pilescu ordered them to bed.

  “What, without supper!” said Paul.

  “Your tea must be your supper,” said Pilescu. “You are all nearly asleep. This strong mountain air is enough to send a grown man to sleep. Go to bed now, and wake refreshed in the morning.”

  The children went up to bed. “I’m glad we managed to see the Secret Forest,” said Jack. “And that funny temple with those old stone statues. I’d like to see them again.”

  He did — and had a surprise that was most unexpected!

  Robbers!

  A few days went by, days of wandering in the lower slopes of the mountain, looking for wild raspberries and watching the swift shy little animals that lived on the mountain. Yamen and Tooku told the children more tales, and nodded their heads when Jack told them of the ruined temple and the queer statues.

  “Ah yes — it is very old. People do not go near it now because it is said that the statues come alive and walk at night.”

  The children screamed with laughter at this. They thought some of the old superstitions were very funny. It seemed as if Yamen really believed in fairies and brownies, for always when she made butter, she put down a saucer of yellow cream by the kitchen door.

  “It is for the brownie who lives in my kitchen!” she would say.

  “But, Yamen, your big black cat drinks the cream, not the brownie,” Nora would say. But Yamen would shake her grey head and refuse to believe it.

  Yamen used to go to buy what was needed at the village near the foot of the mountain each week. She had a donkey of her own, and Tooku had two of these sturdy little creatures. Tooku used sometimes to go with Yamen, and the third donkey would trot along behind them, with big baskets
slung each side of his plump body, to bring back the many things Yamen bought for the household.

  One day Yamen and Tooku started out with the third donkey behind them as usual. They set off down the track, and the children shouted goodbye.

  “We shall be back in time to give you a good tea!” called Yamen. “You shall have new-baked rusks with honey.”

  But when tea-time came there was no Yamen, no Tooku. Ranni and Pilescu looked out of the great doorway of the castle, puzzled. The two should be in sight, at least. It was possible to see down the track for a good way.

  “I hope they haven’t had an accident,” said Nora.

  An hour went by, and another. The children had had their tea, and were wandering round the castle, throwing stones down a steep place, watching them bounce and jump.

  “Look!” said Ranni, suddenly. Everyone looked down the track. One lone donkey was coming slowly along, with someone on his back, and another person stumbling beside him. Ranni ran to get a pony and was soon galloping along the track to find out what had happened.

  The children waited anxiously. They were fond of Tooku and Yamen. As soon as the three climbed the steps of the castle, the children surrounded them.

  “What’s the matter, Yamen? Where are the other donkeys, Tooku? What have you done to your arm?”

  “Aie, aie!” wept Yamen. “The robbers came and took our goods and our donkeys! Tooku tried to stop them but they broke his arm for him. Aie-aie, what bad luck we have had this day! All the goods gone, and the two fine little donkeys!”

  “They took all three,” said Tooku, “But this one, my own good creature, must have escaped, for we heard him trotting after us as we hastened back home on foot.”

  “What were the robbers like?” asked Jack.

  “Strange enough,” answered Yamen. “Small and wiry, with strips of wolf-skin round their middles. Each had a wolf’s tail, dyed red, hanging behind him. Aie-aie, they were strange enough and fierce enough!”