Tolly tried to remember the Latin, but he knew it was hopeless. He would only make silly noises and the fish would know it was wrong. Just then something fell in the water. He couldn’t see what it was because it sank and wobbled as it went down, but the old carp rose slowly to meet it and opened his mouth to suck it in. Then he sank again out of sight. What can that have been, thought Toseland. Perhaps a greedy blackbird took more breakfast than it could eat and threw its last crust away. And yet I don’t believe that. It couldn’t have tut-tutted and called so much if its mouth was full.
He began to retrace his steps, and now in the wood path he was sure there were others beside himself. Of course, he thought suddenly. It’s hide-and-seek! ‘Cooee!’ he called. ‘The Green Deer is den!’ He ran as fast as he could till he stopped, out of breath, with his arms round the Green Deer’s neck. Then he heard unmistakable breathless laughter quite close to him and felt something on his head. He put his hand up and found a twig. It was not something that could have fallen off any of the trees round him. It was cut out of a reddish bush and made a perfect T.
When he got back to the house he turned for another look at the stone man. Mrs Oldknow was there with some garden scissors cutting branches off the shrubs, which he now noticed with a little disappointment were covered with the peculiar flowers he had first seen in the entrance hall.
‘When I first came,’ he said, ‘I thought those were magic flowers in the hall.’
‘So you were afraid I was a witch?’
‘Yes, before I saw you.’
‘Well, this flower is called Witchhazel. And this is Winter Sweet, and that is Daphne. She was turned into a bush, you know.’ Mrs Oldknow, who saw everything, was looking at the twig T in his hand. ‘You found the Green Deer? And somebody’s been teasing you, I see. When I was little I used to find a twig L in my lap. You see, my Christian name is Linnet.’
‘Did they play hide-and-seek with you?’
‘Yes.’
Toseland was looking at the stone man. ‘Who is he?’
‘He is our own St Christopher, and these ruins are where his chapel stood until some stupid wretch pulled it down. There is always a St Christopher by an old ford, and the ford across this river was at the end of the garden. You know the story? He carried the infant Jesus across in a storm, thinking it would be easy, but halfway across he began to feel the child as heavy as the sorrow of the whole world. Linnet loved St Christopher quite specially. She always liked to play here. I planted what you thought were magic flowers for winter incense. This is my favourite part of the garden too. Now, tell me where you’ve been this morning?’
‘I’ve seen the Green Deer and all the other green things.’
‘All? Which have you seen?’
‘The deer and the squirrel and the peacock and the hare and the cock and the hen.’
Mrs Oldknow seemed relieved. ‘And what else?’
‘And I found Toby’s steps by the water. And I saw the fish again. And they played hide-and-seek.’
Tolly was glad that Mrs Oldknow seemed not at all surprised by the hide-and-seek. He was not quite sure whether she thought that he and she were playing a game together pretending that there were other children, or whether she thought, as he did, that the children were really there.
In the afternoon he went back to the stables to look in Feste’s manger. The sugar had gone! Toseland put another lump in its place and slipped away again so that it might be eaten quickly in private. Boggis had gone out on a message for Mrs Oldknow, and she herself was writing letters, so Tolly was alone again, but he had almost forgotten that it was sometimes dull. He went back to the Green Deer full of expectation, but all the birds seemed asleep and there was not a sound anywhere. The Green Deer did not seem magic now. It was not listening, its eyelessness was just stupid, not an added sense. The squirrel also was only a bush cut to shape. Tolly had come with an excited imagination. He collected beech nuts and put them before the squirrel, and handfuls of dry hay for the deer, but it turned out only a dull make-believe. Nothing moved, nothing happened. All his interest faded away. He could think of nothing to do alone and as the afternoon wore on he felt lonely and neglected. He went back to the stables, but they were only empty buildings. There was no echo, there was nothing, there was nobody. When it began to get dark he went indoors. Mrs Oldknow was getting the tea ready.
‘Can I come in now?’ he asked. She looked at him quickly and saw at once what was the matter.
‘Yes, come in, darling. You’ve been alone quite long enough, and so have I. It’s been one of those afternoons when nothing will come alive. I know them. Sit down there opposite your friends, and after tea we’ll see what we can do together. Did you see your chaffinch today?’
‘Oh!’ said Toseland, very much ashamed, ‘I forgot to put anything for him. Suppose he’s been tapping and tapping at the window and nobody came. Will he come again, do you think?’
‘Try shortbread crumbs and see if that pleases him tomorrow morning. He might have spent all afternoon with you if you hadn’t forgotten him.’
Tolly felt in a better temper already. ‘Who made all the green animals?’ he asked.
‘Boggis’s grandfather. They were there when I was a child, and when I asked him about them he said the children wanted them for the Ark. There weren’t any children living here then; my cousins were all much older than me. But at the time I thought I knew what he meant. He was very like our Boggis, but his face was redder and his eyes were bluer, and he dearly loved the bottle.’
‘Did they have a tame squirrel?’
‘They tamed everything. They seemed to understand animals. The hare used to come into the house, lolloping up and down stairs after Toby, or standing up to look out of the windows to see where he had gone. It was called Watt.’
When they had finished their tea Mrs Oldknow said: ‘Make up a great blaze, Tolly, and then let’s put the lights out and sit here, and I will tell you a story.’ Tolly made a crackling fire, using the big leather bellows. There was a tear in one side, so that when they sucked in, the fire grew crimson and tried to follow the draught up the nozzle; when they blew out, the flames turned primrose and blue and sparks flew up as if from a catherine-wheel. Then he blew out all the candles and came and settled himself at her feet.
‘What shall it be about?’
‘Tell me a story about Feste, please.’
TOBY’S STORY
Once upon a time, when the floods were out and most of the country was under water, Linnet fell ill. Her mother would have liked to call in the doctor, but he lived many miles away on the other side of the river. There was no telephone in those days, so somebody would have to be sent to tell him.
‘What shall I do?’ said Linnet’s mother. ‘Boggis has broken his leg and he can’t ride. The stable-boy is a young fool. I would never trust a horse to him alone on flooded roads.’
‘Let me go,’ said Toby. ‘Feste and I would be quite trustworthy.’
‘No, no,’ said his mother. ‘I should be more anxious about you than I am about Linnet. We will see if Grandmother’s remedies will cure her.’
Their grandmother was very skilled in nursing, and kept a cupboard full of herbal medicines which she made herself, for every childish illness. Though she had done everything she could throughout the day, towards evening Linnet’s fever was higher than ever. She lay with scarlet cheeks tossing in bed and talking as if she did not know what she said, so that the tears ran down her mother’s face as she heard it.
‘Mother, let me go for the doctor,’ said Toby again.
‘Dear boy,’ said his mother, ‘if I had let you go at first all might have been well. But now it is growing dark and who knows how the water is rising?’
‘Feste can see in the dark, Mother. The dark does not frighten me, but it frightens me to see Linnet so ill.’
‘He is right,’ said the grandmother. ‘Let him go. Feste will look after him.’
‘You may ride to our neighbour the f
armer, and tell him, I beg him to ride for the doctor at Potto Fen,’ said his mother.
‘The farmer may be away, or unable, or unwilling, and that would be so much time wasted, Mother. I will go quickly, and the doctor can be here this evening.’
Just then Linnet began to moan. She sat up in bed as if greatly distressed, and fell back on her pillow with her eyes open but seeing nothing. Her mother was distracted.
‘Yes, Toby, go. Go quickly. But take care. Go the shortest way over the wooden bridge and up the hill. Tell him it is very urgent.’
Toby pulled on his long, loose-topped boots and took his thick cloak and ran down to the stables. He saddled Feste, and as he put on the bridle he talked to him, saying, ‘Feste, we must get the doctor for Linnet.’
The horse, who had lowered his head to receive the bridle, nuzzled Toby’s cheek and understood very well that he was troubled. He gave a little neigh, and as soon as Toby’s leg was over the saddle he whisked round and started off. It was not dark yet, the sky was dim green like water, and shallow water was over the roads. As they cantered off the mud flew up like a dirty fountain round them. The lane took them for four miles and ended at the wooden bridge. The river looked very nasty in the half light. The current heaved and pushed and the middle of the river seemed higher than the sides, as if it had been squashed up. The bridge was still well above the water.
Toby pulled his horse to a walking pace lest the wood should be slippery, and expected that Feste would cross it as he had done hundreds of times before. But no; Feste, the obedient, would not cross it. He sidled and waltzed but he would not go on. Toby talked to him, coaxed him, scolded him, pulling his head round to face the bridge again and again, but all in vain. At last, for the first time in his life he lifted his switch and lashed him. Feste reared up and struck at the air with outstretched fore-feet so that it was all Toby could do to hang on in the saddle. When in this way Feste had exhibited his height and his strength and his angry pride, he came down from his prancing and without warning leapt the high hedge at the side of the lane. He slithered down the bank with his fore-feet stuck out before him, and after sidling some distance along the river bank he trumpeted a challenging neigh and, plunging into the cold ugly river, began to swim.
Toby could feel the powerful water buffeting and shoving his leg on the upstream side, dragging and snatching at it on the other. It was as though the river were determined to separate him from Feste. Now and then a branch would hit him as a broken tree went past. Once they were tangled up in some floating straw from a rick. It nearly carried Toby out of the saddle, but he just managed to push it away. As they swam, they were swept gradually downstream towards the bridge. Toby, crouched over Feste’s labouring shoulders, could feel that he was striking out for his life. His ears were straining forward and his eyes too, so that Toby could see the whites, and he snorted and grunted with his muzzle just above the water.
They reached the farther bank only a few yards upstream from the bridge, and scrambled up on the other side, Feste digging in with his toes while he gathered his hocks for the last great effort. At the top of the bank he stood with heaving sides and trembling shoulders shaking his heavy wet mane and hanging his head.
‘Feste, you mad, crazy horse! Whatever possessed you to do that?’ gasped Toby, twisting in the saddle to pull off his loose boots one by one to empty the water out of them. He was soaked to the neck and bitterly cold. His teeth chattered and his hands were blue. ‘Stand, Feste, stand, you madman! The devil’s in you!’
Feste was backing away from the bridge and flinging his head up and down so that Toby had to give up trying to wring water out of his cloak.
Suddenly there came a hair-raising scream, the scream of rending wood, sounding almost like an animal in panic. The wooden bridge twisted and cockled under his eyes and, with cracks like cannon fire, collapsed and was swept in a tangled mass downstream. Feste screamed too, and they were off together at full gallop up the hill in the fading light.
Feste chose his own way, jumping fences, jumping hedges, sloshing and slithering in the mud, but Toby did not interfere with him again. He gave him his head and was only concerned to stay with him. At last he recognized the outskirts of the village where the doctor lived. They rattled down the cobbled streets and it seemed to Toby that Feste stopped at the house of his own accord.
When the old doctor came to the door and saw the two of them standing dripping there, with their long hair plastered over their white faces, their coats covered with mud, he did not at first recognize them.
‘What in Heaven’s name!’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re no bearer of good news. Martha! Bring the lantern. Why, here’s young Master Oldknow in a fine state.’
The housekeeper came running with the lantern. ‘Lord sakes, Master Toby, what brings you here like this?’
‘Oh, sir, Linnet is ill of a high fever and cannot breathe. My mother begs you to make haste.’
‘I can believe she’s ill if your mother sends you through the floods for me. Martha, call the groom. Tell him to saddle the mare at once.’
‘You must go round by Penny Soaky, sir,’ said Toby, getting his breath again. ‘The wooden bridge is down. Feste would not cross it, he chose to swim instead, and it crumpled up and went downstream just as we got to the other side. Feste knew. And the bridge screamed like demons.’
‘Eh! Eh! What’s this? You swam the river?’ The jolly old doctor looked quite grey at the thought. Then he began to twinkle. ‘So Feste chose to swim, did he? Do you let your horses choose, young man? I thought you knew more horsemanship than that.’
‘He’s never disobeyed me before, sir. And the worst of it is, I slashed him for it.’
‘You go in, young man, and Martha will give you a hot grog and put you to bed while she dries your clothes. And as soon as I’ve gone, the groom shall see to Feste.’
‘I’d like to see to Feste myself, sir. Nobody grooms him but me, and tonight especially I must, please.’
‘Very well. But you can’t stay in those clothes. You’ll have to wear some of mine – or Martha’s, which ever you please.’
Toby laughed, for both of them were as fat as barrels. ‘I’ll wear yours, thank you, sir.’
‘As you please, young man. And then you go to bed and I’ll tell your mother you’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll want to look at you myself before you go.’
The groom came round with the doctor’s sedate mare, and Martha with hot grog for Toby.
‘See that this young gentleman has everything he wants for his horse. And Martha, rig him up in anything of mine that he can stand up in. Good-bye, Toby, I’ll see to your sister for you.’
It was no good trying to put the doctor’s thick, voluminous clothes on Toby’s slim body. He was so encumbered by the folds that it would have been impossible for him to do anything but trip over them. In the end he took a sleeveless jerkin that came down below his knees. He belted in its fantastic width like a kilt, and calling out: ‘Way for Jamie Stuart, King of Scotland!’ he ran barefooted out to Feste, who was tied up in a strange stable, whinnying for him again and again.
First he washed the four white feet in a bucket of warm water. Then he rubbed him hard with clean straw to get the mud off his coat and warm him by friction. Then he rubbed him with a cloth till he was dry all over, behind the ears, between his forelegs and round his fetlocks. He covered him with warm blankets and belted a coat round him.
All the while he talked to him, saying, ‘Oh, my wonderful Feste, my golden eagle, my powerful otter, my wise horse.’ As he combed the long mane, he sang as he had learned to do in church: ‘Behold, thou art fair, my love, behold thou art fair. Thine eyes are as dove’s eyes within thy locks. Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.’
When Feste was dry, shining and beautiful again, he was given a hot bran mash. Toby could not bear to leave him, but sat against the wall watching with great satisfaction how F
este sucked up from the bucket and how the level in the bucket went down and down. When it was all gone, Feste gave the bucket a push with his nose and a knock with his hoof, and lifted up his dripping muzzle towards Toby.
‘Feste, you’re a messy eater,’ he said, carefully wiping the horse’s chin with one of the doctor’s handkerchiefs. Feste gave a great sigh and began to bend his knees and his hocks to lie down. Down he went in his straw bed and curled himself up like a dog with his nose tucked into his legs.
Toby sat on, meaning just to watch him go to sleep. But he fell asleep himself. When the groom came in to see if everything was in order for the night, he found the young gentleman asleep with his head against the horse’s neck. He approached to wake him up, to take him into the house, but Feste opened a rolling eye and put his ears back with a dangerous look, making it quite plain that no one was to disturb either of them.
The groom hesitated, then he went out and brought back two more blankets that he spread over Toby. Feste opened an eye, but did not move. When the groom had gone he sighed and shut it again. So there they slept together. The next thing that Toby knew was that Feste was blowing down his neck as if to say: ‘That supper was splendid, but how about breakfast?’
*
TOLLY WOKE EARLY NEXT morning, still excited with the knowledge that the world into which he was born had once produced a Feste. He lay for a moment with his eyes shut, listening for any sound there might be in the room. The slow tick-tock came out of the silence, and then a soft whirring followed by the little tap of a bird perching, and lastly, sounding very loud because it was near his ear, a scratching of bird-claws on his sheet and the tiny bump of a bird’s hop on his chest. When he opened his eyes he looked straight into the round black eye of the chaffinch.
The Children of Green Knowe Collection Page 4