From Across the Ancient Waters

by Michael Phillips

  “Then I need to talk to Mr. Heygate. Someone has to know something.”

  “I tried,” said Florilyn. “I finally gave up. I asked everyone in the village, every one of Grannie’s neighbors. I rode up to the Muirs. Even they didn’t know. Stevie and his mother were as surprised as I was. They didn’t say good-bye to them either. I have done my best for eight months to find out something. Gwyneth and I had become very close. But they seem to have wanted no one to know where they had gone.”

  Percy listened in stunned disbelief. “Then maybe I need to hear it for myself,” he said. Percy left Florilyn with her late breakfast and went upstairs.

  He found Lord Snowdon in his study. Even more than on the previous evening, he noticed what Mistress Chattan had warned him of—that his uncle appeared to have aged more than a mere two years would account for. He was shocked at how gray he had become.

  “Ah, Percy, my boy!” said his uncle. “Out for a ride so early on your first morning back with us, I see.”

  “No, sir,” replied Percy. “I walked to town and then to visit my friends Codnor Barrie and his daughter.”

  “I, uh … am not familiar with the name,” rejoined the viscount, who stood when Percy entered. In fact he knew the name better than that of any of his tenants, former or present.

  “The girl worked here as a servant in the manor, Uncle Roderick. I don’t see how you could not have known her.”

  “Well, er … of course, that is, you can hardly expect me to be on intimate terms with all my wife’s maids,” said his uncle as he sat down again. As he did, he winced visibly. “Blasted knee!” he muttered. “Don’t ever get old, Percy, my boy. It plays havoc with your knees. I just hope I die before I get so decrepit I can’t walk. But where were we? Ah, yes, some girl you mentioned that you say worked here. Perhaps … that is to say, perhaps I might recognize her face if I were to see her.”

  “Unfortunately, that is impossible.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because their cottage is now occupied by someone else,” Percy answered. “The Barries have moved, up and gone without a trace. Florilyn tells me your factor was the one who spoke with Mr. Barrie. I would like to know what you know, Uncle Roderick. It is a matter of great personal urgency to me. Whatever it takes, I have to find them.”

  “What are these people to you, Percy, my boy … if you don’t mind my asking?” said his uncle.

  “They are close and dear friends. The girl, Gwyneth is her name, helped me more than anyone other than my own father, to see God’s handiwork about me, as well as inside me. She is one of the most remarkable individuals I have ever met. She was also very close to Florilyn. I have to find her … for both our sakes.”

  “She, uh … sounds like an extraordinary young girl, you say. Yes, quite—and a peasant, the daughter of a miner, you say. Most extraordinary. How would, uh … such a one come to possess this vast knowledge about the church?”

  “You mistake me, Uncle Roderick. It would not surprise me if the girl had never set foot inside a church in her life. What I said was that she had helped me to see God in His creation and within myself. Unless a man like my father is in the pulpit, judging by its success rate, church seems to me singularly ill equipped for the transmission of that revelation into human hearts.”

  “Ah, yes … I see … of course, of course. So then, er … Barrie is the name, you say. Hmm, yes, I seem to recall something about it. Yes, a very sudden departure it was, I believe.”

  “What exactly did your factor tell you?”

  “Just that … if I recall, let me think … that the man told him he was leaving Llanfryniog and the slate mine.”

  “There was nothing else?”

  “Not that I, uh … not that I recall.”

  Percy turned to go. “Do you know where I might find your factor?” he said.

  “I could not say with certainty, though you might try his office. I believe he had business in Penrhyndeudraeth later. If I am not mistaken, he planned to spend the night there and take the train up to Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.”

  “To where?” exclaimed Percy.

  His uncle chuckled. “It’s a village in Anglesey,” he said. “Translated it means, ‘St. Mary’s Church in the hollow of white hazel near the rushing whirlpool and Tysilio of the Red Cave’s Church.’ I thought I might get you with that one, Percy, my boy.”

  “What do people in a hurry call it?” asked Percy.

  “Llanfair Pwllgwyngell, or just Llanfair. Tilman plans to visit his son’s family on the peninsula for a day or two. Whether he has left yet I do not know.”

  “Then I had better try to catch him before he leaves.”

  Percy hastened downstairs and to the south wing. His knock at the factor’s door was answered by a summons to enter.

  “Ah, young Drummond!” said Tilman Heygate, rising to meet him and shaking his hand warmly.

  “Hello, Mr. Heygate.”

  “I heard you were back. You’re looking very well—healthy and with another inch or two to your credit.”

  “I’ve just come from the viscount,” said Percy. “I hope you might be able to shed some light on the sudden disappearance of Codnor Barrie and his daughter.”

  “Barrie—he was the slate miner?” replied the factor, resuming his seat behind his desk.

  “Yes, sir,” said Percy, taking the chair opposite him.

  “Rented a cottage from us out on the moor, about a mile east of the village, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Yes, I recall it now. I found it very strange,” nodded Heygate thoughtfully.

  “What exactly did Mr. Barrie say?” asked Percy.

  “A note came here to the manor from him asking to see me,” replied Heygate.

  “Did you think that strange?”

  “Not at all. I handle matters for all the viscount’s tenants. They pay their rents to me. They bring their complaints to me.”

  “He didn’t say what it was about?”

  “Just that he wanted to see me. I knew he worked in the slates, so I rode down there the next evening. His daughter was with him and greeted me pleasantly. A nice girl, she struck me … worked at the manor as well, I believe.”

  “That’s right.” Percy nodded.

  “The man said he needed to talk to me in private. The girl left the cottage. She kept a number of animals in pens and a fenced area behind the house. When we were alone, Barrie told me that a change had come to his situation. He and his daughter would be leaving Llanfryniog and quitting their tenancy. He said that they would be moving soon, adding that the viscount had been very kind to him. He asked me to thank him. Then he handed me three one pound notes for the rent that was due. He asked me to say nothing to anyone but the viscount. His daughter did not know of his plans yet, he said, nor another soul.”

  “Did you ask him why he was leaving?”

  “I did. He merely said that an opportunity had arisen that would prove of great benefit to his daughter, that he hoped thereby perhaps even to secure for her an education beyond what was available here and give her opportunities she would never otherwise have. It was not an opportunity he could afford to pass up.”

  “Was it a more lucrative job somewhere?”

  “I don’t know, Percy,” replied Heygate. “I had the idea that he might have come into money. Not wealth, mind you, but enough to make the move he was talking about and live comfortably. He said nothing specifically. It was simply the sense I had. He was vague. I asked when they were leaving. He said they would be gone the following day. I asked where they were going. He said he could not say. Again he adjured me to secrecy. But it was hardly necessary. I knew nothing anyway.”

  “And that was it?”

  “I’m afraid so. We shook hands. I took the three pounds and returned to the manor and told the viscount what had transpired. He received the information without comment or overmuch curiosity. And that was it. A month later I rented the cot
tage to a man new to the mines. To my knowledge, no one has heard from the Barrie fellow or the girl since.”

  SEVENTY-THREE

  Cousins Facing the Future

  For the rest of the day, Percy kept mostly to himself. Florilyn knew he needed time to adjust to the sudden shock of finding Gwyneth gone. They did not ride that afternoon.

  There exist few better antidotes to the mental and emotional doldrums, however, than demanding physical exertion. After an afternoon watching him wander aimlessly about the manor, inspecting the stables he had helped build two years before, rekindling his friendships with Grey Tide and Red Rhud and several other horses, and chatting with Hollin Radnor and Stuart Wyckham, Florilyn determined that she would get her cousin away from the house the next morning.

  Percy spent the evening with a George MacDonald title he had not seen, Ranald Bannerman’s Boyhood. His aunt had handed it to him after dinner, telling him it had just come out that year, and that she had only recently finished it. However, he had a difficult time concentrating on the words on the page.

  Florilyn appeared surprisingly early in the breakfast room the next morning. She was upbeat and cheerful, ready to do her best to bring life back to Percy’s spirit. “It’s a beautiful day, Percy,” she said as they ate. “I am going for a ride. I hope you will join me.”

  “Sure,” said Percy, though without his customary enthusiasm. “I guess I haven’t been very good company. Sorry … but life goes on, as they say.”

  “That’s the way I felt for weeks after Gwyneth disappeared,” said Florilyn.

  They agreed to meet at the stables at ten. Percy was already there when Florilyn arrived in her riding habit.

  “Hollin has just been telling me about this beautiful black stallion,” said Percy. He was standing at the stall of a jet-black powerful horse he had never seen before.

  “A nasty brute,” said Florilyn. “His name is Demon, and for good reason. He’s a four-year-old. I’m surprised he hasn’t snapped at you standing there. My father bought him hoping to race him. After getting him here, it became obvious why my father got him at the price he did. He’s altogether unmanageable. What did Hollin tell you?”

  “Exactly the same,” replied Percy, “that he counseled your father against the purchase, but that Uncle Roderick had his heart set on a thoroughbred, and here was one to be had at a price he could afford.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  “Have you ridden him?” asked Percy.

  Florilyn laughed, though the sound erupting from her mouth more resembled a snort. “I wouldn’t be caught dead on that horse’s back!”

  “Does anyone ride him?”

  “Courtenay can. Papa thinks he can. But it makes me nervous whenever he takes him out. We all pray he will come back alive! Mother has begged Papa to cut his losses and give the horse to Padrig Gwlwlwyd. My father is a good horseman. But he isn’t as strong as he once was. He’s not steady enough in the saddle for a dangerous horse like that. But he is a proud man. He doesn’t want to admit that the horse is too much for him.”

  “Then I shall certainly keep my distance,” said Percy. “Are Grey Tide and Red Rhud still the best choices for me?”

  “That depends on what kind of mount you want.”

  “You know me—I’m a beginner, remember.”

  “Hardly!” rejoined Florilyn. “You can claim to be faster than me.”

  Even as she said the words, a flash of pain crossed Florilyn’s face. “To answer your question, they are probably more reliable than ever. They are nine years old and not as fast as they once were but still the best two mounts in our stables. I think I will take out Crimson Sun.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Red Rhud’s foal. He’s only a year and a half. We’re still training him. But he is a gentle young stallion. I’ll take him today, and he can get to know your voice and smell. Perhaps you can try him later.”

  “Sound’s good. I’ll stick with Grey Tide then.”

  Half an hour later, they left the grounds.

  “Have you seen Harlech Castle?” asked Florilyn.

  “No. North of here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, about three or four miles. It’s worth the ride.”

  They set out down the hill. Florilyn led along the main road, bypassing the village. They came in sight of what had for so long been the Barrie cottage, though neither mentioned it.

  “How long will you be staying?” asked Florilyn as they clomped slowly along side by side. “Will you be here all summer?”

  “You have no objection?” said Percy, a hint of fun returning to his tone.

  “Goodness, no! I hope you do.”

  “Well that’s good, because I still have a score to settle with you from five years ago.”

  “With me? What are you talking about?” Florilyn laughed.

  “Our bet … on the race … that day on the beach. You owe me! The loser has to wait on the winner for a day.”

  “Hmm … I’d hoped you had forgotten that!” She smiled.

  “I am simply biding my time, waiting for just the right moment to claim my winnings,” rejoined Percy. “But to answer your question, I have no timetable. I have a good apprenticeship with a solicitor’s firm in Aberdeen. Mr. Snyder, the man who’s taken me under his wing, didn’t want me to come south at all. I am supposed to be working for him right now. But I told him I had to take time to come to Wales again.”

  “He is expecting you back?”

  Percy nodded. “But I gave no promises when that would be. There are things I wanted to settle before I return north.”

  “Things? About … what?”

  “Just … things, you know. The future and all that. Sometimes you need to get away from your normal routine to put your life in perspective. I will graduate in a year. Then I plan to enter law school. There is much to consider.”

  “And after that?” probed Florilyn.

  “I don’t know—the practice of law, I suppose. I probably don’t sound very enthusiastic. But I love law. It’s fascinating to wrap your mind around all sides of a dilemma. But there are so many types of law. I haven’t settled on an area of specialization yet. There are times I think nothing would be as rewarding as being a country solicitor in some small, out-of-the-way village where you would know everyone and be part of the community. You would have the chance to help people and be involved in their lives.”

  “Someplace like … Llanfryniog?” queried Florilyn.

  “I suppose. Though I doubt the need for a solicitor’s services is felt often enough in a village this small to make a poor lawyer much of a living.” Percy chuckled. “But then I waver to the opposite extreme and think about the opportunities in a large city like Aberdeen or Edinburgh or Glasgow.”

  “I cannot imagine you as the big-city type.” Florilyn smiled.

  “I’ve been a city boy all my life except for my brief times here.”

  “Which is the real you?”

  “Hmm … a good question. I’m not sure I know yet. Maybe that’s one of those things I need to resolve. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “What are your plans?”

  “You asked me that once before. I told you that women don’t have plans. I am a country girl—I don’t think there’s any doubt about that. I once thought I would love the big city. London is exciting and vibrant and all that, but it’s not for me. I could never live anywhere I couldn’t ride for an hour without seeing another human being.”

  “I never took you for a loner.”

  Florilyn smiled. “I’m not sure that’s the word I would use. I just like being out in the country, with nature all about me and with no sounds of bustle and activity.”

  They rode on in silence. In former years they would have been galloping and laughing and bantering and racing. On this day, however, their hearts were full of the thoughts that young men and young women often have who are not sure what the future holds. Theirs was an uncertain time in life. Adul
thood beckoned, but the perplexities of youth remained. Those perplexities hung heavy on the hearts of the two cousins as they contemplated what lay ahead for them.

  “I think a lot of you, Florilyn,” said Percy at length. “I hope you know that.”

  “I think I do,” replied Florilyn. “The feeling is mutual.”

  Again it was quiet. Both were thinking. Yet neither could divulge the full nature of their thoughts. The rest of the ride passed uneventfully. Percy’s mind was busier than he let on.

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  The Familiar Hills

  Percy’s ride with Florilyn helped clarify his thoughts. It also added new complexities to his speculations.

  There was much to think about, much to pray about. If ever he needed his father, that time was now. Unfortunately his father was three hundred miles away. Something also told him that the decision before him was one he needed to resolve on his own. If he was not sure enough to make up his own mind, then he was not sure enough. He had to be sure within himself.

  He did not ride with Florilyn again for the rest of the week. He saw little of her. But he was watching. More and more, she filled his thoughts and prayers.

  Roderick, Katherine, and Florilyn went to church on Sunday. Courtenay never accompanied them now. His aunt and uncle assumed Percy would go with them. But after comments he had heard in the village, Percy knew that sufficient speculation existed about his intentions toward his cousin without fueling it further by allowing half the town to see them together.

  From his manner on their ride, Florilyn understood that it was time for her to wait. She accompanied her parents with a quiet, hopeful, patient heart.

  Once they were on their way, Percy went to the stables, saddled Grey Tide, and set out northeastward into the Snowdonian hills. The moment he left the manor, he knew his destination.

  Percy arrived at the overlook high above the translucent mountain lake an hour and a half later. At this place he had heard Gwyneth’s wonderfully strange crooning voice beckoning to the animals that they could come to her without fear. He now knew the way down to the meadow as well. But he would never take that path again. The sights to which it led could be shared with only one person in the world.