Linnets and Valerians - Elizabeth Goudge

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an old rug full of holes and a bag of apples and under the other a basket of groceries; biscuits and cheese, slices of cold ham, a jar of pickles, lump sugar, a pot of marmalade, eight tins of sardines and a bar of Sunlight soap. ‘Stop!’ yelled Timothy and they stopped by a gorse bush and had a gorgeous meal. They did not forget the pony and Absolom. Rob-Roy crunched up four apples and a quarter of a pound of lump sugar in his strong white teeth, and Absolom had eight biscuits and a quarter of a pound of cheese. When they had finished eating there was nothing left except half a pot of marmalade, the soap and sardines, and they all felt completely different.

      From then on it was a wonderful drive, and when the road was so steep that Rob-Roy could only go at a walking pace they looked about them in wonder, for they seemed to be climbing to the top of the world. Great hills shouldered up into that strange green sky, and below they fell steeply away into deep valleys filled with mist. The shadows on the hills were the colour of grapes. Then gradually the colour drained away. The sky changed from green to deep blue, the stars grew brighter, and a hidden moon shone behind a hill that had an outcrop of rock like a castle or a city on its crest, and another rock like a lion’s head beneath it. It grew steadily colder, even with the rug, and they began to shiver. They were a bit scared too, for it was strange and lonely, and they didn’t seem to be coming to wherever it was they were going. But no one cried or complained, for though insubordinate they were courageous. Nan did say just once, ‘Robert, are you quite sure Rob-Roy knows where we’re going?’ but after Robert had answered very snappily, ‘Can’t you see he knows?’ she did not say anything more. But she could tell by his snappishness that Robert was a bit worried too.

      And then the moon sailed up from behind the hill and the whole world was washed in silver. They could see more now; low stone walls, clumps of thin trees blown all one way by the prevailing wind, and ahead of them a cluster of cottages on a small hill with lights showing in their windows and a tall church tower rising behind them. Rob-Roy quickened his pace. He rattled them down a slope and over an old stone bridge that crossed a little river, and then uphill again towards the village. Just at the foot of the village street he turned left through an open gate in a stone wall, jolted them over the cobbles of a yard and stopped dead in front of a stable door. They had arrived.

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      THEY JUMPED EAGERLY OUT of the trap and looked about them. The yard was enclosed by the stable and three high stone walls and had a pump in the middle of it. One wall was built against the hillside and a flight of stone steps led up beside it to a door at the top. Beyond the door there seemed to be a garden on the slope of the hill and above it a house. They could not see any lighted windows, but there was a glimmer through the trees that made them think there must be a light in one of the downstairs rooms.

      ‘But we must stable Rob-Roy first,’ said Robert. None of them had unharnessed a pony before, but by dint of unfastening every buckle they could find they got Rob-Roy free and led him into the stable. In the moonlight flooding through the open door they could see a rough towel hanging from a nail on the wall and with this Robert rubbed him down and they put the rug from the trap over him. There was hay in the manger and water in the bucket and he immediately made himself at home. They kissed him and patted him and said, ‘Good night, Rob-Roy,’ and they felt he liked them.

      They came out and shut the stable door and climbed up the stone steps against the wall. It seemed to be an old wall, built of rough grey stone, with small ferns and plants growing in the crannies. The door at the top of the steps had a stone arch over it, and seemed old too, but the latch lifted easily and they went through into the garden. It was queer and creepy in the garden because there were so many tall bushes and odd steps here and there. Then the bushes vanished and they came out on a sloping lawn and there was the house up above them, its granite walls covered with creepers and a terrace running along in front of the french windows of the ground floor.

      It was the centre one that was lighted up, and framed in the shadows of the creepers it was like a picture hung on a dark wall. There was a table in the window and in front of it an elderly gentleman dressed in black sat writing with a large quill pen, an oil lamp beside him on the table and piles of books all round him on the floor. He had a big domed forehead, with white hair sprouting up on either side of it, and white whiskers, but the rest of his face was clean-shaven. His eyes beneath bushy white eyebrows were looking down at the paper, but Nan was quite sure they were bright and fierce. He was writing with great concentration, his pen spluttering and his grim mouth working. He was a most alarming figure altogether, for his broad strong shoulders suggested he would be at least six feet tall when he stood up. The children and Absolom drew nearer, both terrified and attracted, for behind him they could see in the glimmer of firelight a great globe of the world shining like a second moon, and perched on the high carved back of the chair was a little owl. As the children watched it spread its wings and flapped them twice and hooted. They had now come so close that they were standing at the bottom of a flight of four narrow steps that led up from the lawn to the terrace exactly in front of the window. The owl hooted again in warning and the elderly gentleman looked up.

      It was no good running away, for caught in the beam of the lamplight he could see them as clearly as though it were broad daylight. Nor could they have run if they had tried for his terrible gaze transfixed them. At first he was as still as they were, his face a mask of incredulous anger, and then he slowly rose to his feet, so slowly that it seemed his great height would never cease rising towards the ceiling. His big strong chin was propped up on a folded white stock that seemed to make him stiffer and taller than ever. He unfastened the French window, flung it wide and came out on to the terrace.

      ‘What on earth?’ he enquired in a terrible deep voice, gazing down at them huddled together at the foot of the steps.

      Robert was usually the family spokesman, but his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth and it was Nan who replied, ‘Please, sir, four children and a dog.’

      ‘I have my eyesight,’ said the elderly gentleman, ‘and have already observed that there are four children and a dog, but may I be permitted to enquire what four children and a dog are doing on my lawn at this time of night?’

      ‘It’s where we’ve come to,’ said Nan.

      ‘That also I observe. But how did you come?’

      Robert’s tongue came unstuck and he said, ‘Rob-Roy brought us, sir. Rob-Roy, my pony. He brought us in the trap.’

      ‘And where have you left this pony and trap?’

      ‘Rob-Roy is in the stable,’ said Robert, ‘and the trap in the yard.’

      ‘I also possess a pony and trap,’ said the elderly gentleman. ‘My gardener drove to the town this afternoon to fetch my groceries and I am momentarily expecting his return. What do you suppose my own pony, Jason by name, will make of an intruder in his stable?’

      Nan suddenly went very white and then all by herself she mounted the steps and came to the elderly gentleman. They were all brave children, but she was the bravest. She looked up at him where he stood, with his hands behind his back and legs wide apart, glaring down at her, and she said, ‘Rob-Roy isn’t really Robert’s pony. He only calls him that because he loves him so. Rob’s Roy. We’d walked a long way uphill and we were dreadfully tired, especially Betsy because she’s only six, and we saw the pony and trap outside an inn with a wheatsheaf painted on the board, and we got in and Rob-Roy, I mean Jason, brought us here.’ Then she went as red as she had been white, swallowed hard and whispered, ‘I’m afraid we’ve eaten all the groceries except half a pot of marmalade, the soap and eight tins of sardines.’

      Her voice died away and she began to tremble, and to her horror she could feel a few hot tears trickling over her cheekbones and down in front of her ears, but she did not take her eyes from the elderly gentleman’s face or flinch when he shot out a large brown wrinkled hand, gripped her shoulder and swung her round so that the lamplight fell on her face. It fell on his face too and she ceased to be afraid. He was not exactly smiling, but there was a slight twitching at the corners of his grim mouth and the

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