Part 7 (2/2)

'Humph,' muttered the captain again. 'Should think all that eddication 'ud fit you to be something more than a steward. Did you never go back to Hy Brasil?'

'Many times I wished to,' said Mr Holystone simply. 'I wished to see my kind old foster-father and my cousins.'

'Cousins? Thought you said you were a foundling?'

'Foster-cousins,' Mr Holystone amended. 'King Mabon, the ruler of Lyonesse, was a cousin of Huayna Ccapac. His children, Artegall, Martegall and Elen, were my playmates and companions when I was small. But no I never went back. At the death of Huayna Ccapac, twelve years ago, his son Huascar Ccaedmon ascended the throne. He is no friend to me; never has been. My tutor wrote to warn me that if I ever tried to return, Ccaedmon would have me put to death.'

'Bloodthirsty lot these Incas, whatdoyoucallems,' commented the captain. 'What about the ones in Lyonesse, King Mabon and his brood?'

'I have heard, at infrequent intervals, from my foster-uncle, King Mabon. There is little love lost between him and Ccaedmon, who is a harsh ruler and a touchy neighbour. At present a doubtful peace obtains between Lyonesse and Hy Brasil; twice, however, Ccaedmon has broken the peace and seized strips of land on the Lyonesse boundary. But Mabon's relations with New c.u.mbria are even more delicate, and so he hesitates to retaliate.'

'Aha!' exclaimed Captain Hughes, who, in spite of himself, was becoming interested. 'Has Ccaedmon also committed acts of aggression against New c.u.mbria? Is that what Queen What'shername's complaint is about, think you? Devil take it, man, why could you not let me have all this information while we were still aboard the Thrush? It is worth twice what that dolt Brandywinde had to tell me.'

'My position is so awkward,' said Mr Holystone sadly. 'King Mabon sent me a message three years ago, suggesting that I lead a revolt against Ccaedmon. But, who am I, after all? My parentage is unknown. In spite of Mabon's friends.h.i.+p I told him that I had no right to lead a rising against the ruler of Hy Brasil.'

'What about the queen of New c.u.mbria?'

'c.u.mbria is a closed country,' said Mr Holystone, shaking his head. 'It is a secret land. The port of Tenby is its only entrance. n.o.body goes in or out. The queen holds no communication with her neighbours. Citizens of Lyonesse or Hy Brasil may not cross her frontiers. It has always been so.'

'We got in.'

'That is because the queen has sent for you.'

'Well,' said Captain Hughes, 'all this is deucedly interesting (though why you were not prepared to divulge it two weeks ago, bless me if I can see) but what has it to do with your not wis.h.i.+ng to accompany us to Bath? That's what has me in a puzzle.'

Holystone looked at him hopelessly, as if he had come to the end of his strength. The captain reflected, and said, 'No, I believe I do understand. It is because you might be considered a pretender to the throne of Hy Brasil -is that it, hey? You think it might put me in an awkward spot if you were recognised so near the country you came from?'

'Just so, sir.'

'Does you credit, I daresay. Should have thought of it sooner, though. Suppose you were tempted by the chance to revisit these parts, hmn? But then it ain't all that likely you will be recognised, is it? If you haven't been back since you were fourteen?'

Maybe he's ashamed, thought Dido. After all, he was a kind of prince, then only fancy, our Mr Holystone! Well, I alius reckoned there were more to him than met the eye and he wouldn't want his old chums to see him now he's only a steward.

Mr Holystone looked very unhappy, but made no direct answer to the captain. 'Pray give consideration to my request, sir,' was all that he said.

'Well I will think about it, and let you know my decision in the morning. Meanwhile, kindly see that child goes to bed and that a watch is kept over her during the night.'

'Yes, sir.'

Dido's bedroom was even smaller than the captain's a tiny slip of a room. On the bed was curled something that Dido, for one nervous moment, took, in the dim candlelight, for a large spider. She was still unsettled by the events of the river-trip. But then, with much relief, she saw that the sleeping creature was a small cat, curled up in a tight ball.

'Hey, puss!' Dido said softly. 'Come to keep me company, have you?'

She stroked the cat and found, as on the one at Tenby, a collar with a disc, bearing this time the name Tim Toldrum; and a packet consisting of a small sc.r.a.p of folded paper.

'Hilloo, Mr Holy!' she called in a whisper. He had made himself up a pallet outside the door, and came directly.

'Look what's here, Mr Holy! Another of 'em.'

They both studied the words on the small printed page, which said, 'Chirurgeon. One that cures ailments, not by internal medicines, but outward applications. It is now generally p.r.o.nounced, and by many written, surgeon.'

Under this was written, in small desperate dark-brown letters could they be blood? 'Help! I am a prisoner in a cave on Arrabe. I do not have air for many more days.'

'Why's she so skint on air?' demanded Dido. 'That's one thing n.o.body bothers to sell, acos no one 'ud buy it there's always plenty.'

'Not in the mountains,' said Mr Holystone hoa.r.s.ely. He had gone deathly pale; his high forehead gleamed with sweat. He muttered, 'Up on the slopes of Catelonde one must carry enough air to breathe. There are flowers night-blooming lilies shepherds always carry them -'

'Oh, Mr Holy! What can we do for this poor girl?'

But Mr Holystone was past replying. He had slid to the floor in deep unconsciousness.

5.

The rack-railway train that was to carry the party from Bewdley up to a height of twelve thousand feet above sea-level was such a strange-looking little conveyance that, when they first set eyes on it, Dido exclaimed, 'Love a duck! That thing couldn't pull p.u.s.s.y across the parlour!'

Captain Hughes, equally glum and dubious, observed that it resembled a row of dominoes in process of falling down. The rolling-stock of the little train did indeed have a curiously tilted appearance, since most of its journey would be spent going up the side of a slope like a church steeple; consequently while on flat ground the whole thing leaned forward as if engaged in studying its own toenails. The tiny wood-burning engine carried a top heavy smokestack with a fuelbox and watertank behind. There were three wagons: a baggage-and-mail car, loaded with straw-bales, goats, poultry, salt, and dried fish; a box-car crammed to its thatched roof with standing pa.s.sengers all wrapped snugly in the local garb of ponchoes and serapes, long cloaks which they called ruanas; and a first-cla.s.s car which, for the benefit of the foreigners, was supplied with a few narrow wooden benches.

The train ran on three rails, the centre one having large cog-teeth, which engaged with similar teeth on a set of wheels under the cars, so that, however steep the slope, the train could never slip backwards. Gay red roses and green leaves had been painted along the sides of the wagons a long time ago. The paint, like everything else about the train, was old, dirty and worn.

After considerable delay the engine started with a great snorting and straining and blowing of steam and a shriek so prolonged that it seemed to be protesting against its task.

Almost as soon as it had clanked away from Bewdley the track stopped being level and began to climb; they rounded a corner of the Severn gorge, crept up a steep hillside, and were immediately presented with a view so magnificent that it made Dido gasp. A mile west of Bewdley the valley of the Severn was barred by a great semi-circle of cliffs over which the river came racing in a huge horse-shoe of boiling white water, full three-quarters of a mile from side to side; white vapour rose from it like smoke, and the roar was loud enough to drown even the screeching and chugging of their engine.

'That's what I kept a-hearing last night. I thought it was lions roaring and tigers caterwauling,' Dido said to Mr Holystone, who whispered that the cascade was known as the Falls of Hypha, and formed the lowest in a series of seven, all equally majestic. 'The others are Stheino, Euryte, Medusa, Minerva, Nemetone and Rhiannon the seven witches who guard the secret land of Upper c.u.mbria.'

'Ain't there no way to Upper c.u.mbria but by this railway?' asked Dido.

'Not from the sea . . . Before the rail-track was cut, men thought the precipices too high to scale.'

'Then,' said Dido sceptically, 'how did the first lot ever get there? The ones who came over after the Battle of Dyrham?'

'They had landed farther down the coast and travelled north through the mountains and the valley of Lake Arianrod.'

'Come in by the back way, I see.'

'That way, too, leads in through a very narrow pa.s.s; it wants but one great rock to fall, which hangs poised on the lip of Mount Catelonde, and the way would be blocked, and Upper c.u.mbria would be sealed off.'

'Only if the railway stopped running,' Dido pointed out. 'What a lot you know about it all, Mr Holy!'

'I have always always been interested in ancient history . . .' His weak voice died away in a great yawn, and his head nodded forward. He roused up again, however, to say to Captain Hughes, 'Sir do not forget that when we reach Bath Regis which is thirteen thousand feet above sea-level all the party must be careful to avoid undue exertion at first the air is so thin that the least effort causes palpitations of the heart. You will ache all over headaches and nosebleeds are not uncommon . ..'

He toppled over on his side; he had been sitting on the wagon floor, propped against the wall. Dido, kneeling by him worriedly saw that he was in a kind of half-sleep, half-swoon. His fainting-fit last night had occasioned a great deal of concern. He had recovered only after a great many restoratives had been administered, and Captain Hughes had said firmly there could be no question of his returning to the coast by himself, or of his remaining in the small and primitive inn at Bewdley. He must accompany the party to Bath, where there were sure to be doctors and he could be properly cared for. Poor Mr Holystone had been too weak to protest, although he seemed wretched in his spirits, as if the whole atmosphere of c.u.mbria oppressed him and made him ill. In the morning he had to be carried on board the train.

'Best leave him to sleep,' said Captain Hughes. 'Poor devil, maybe it is merely the alt.i.tude that is affecting him, and he will recover in due course.'

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