“If you say that again,” said Herrick, “I shall tear the map into fragments and strew them about the road. I may even masticate them. D’you usually turn to the left when you’re trying to get to the right?”
“Not as a rule,” said I. “But from what I’ve seen of this country—”
“And there you’re right,” said Herrick. “The land’s bewitched. Eighteen inns to date – and I’d swap the lot for a supper of bread and milk and a truss of hay.”
“To be frank,” said I, “I’m not very much surprised. But you said you knew the place. And you swore that the inns were out of the golden world.”
“So they were,” raged Herrick, “ten years ago. It isn’t my fault they’ve changed. Ten years ago I stayed at an inn by Villach some twenty-five miles from a train. I paid five shillings a day, and they served my food on silver and gave me clean sheets every night, and wept when I left.”
“Well, we’ve two hours yet,” said I. “Let’s give the map a rest and go as we please.”
“Every time,” said Herrick, and closed his eyes. “Don’t wake me when we come to a village. Just go and look at the inn and then get back in the car. The rite must be observed – as a matter of form. But I don’t want to know about it. I’ve had enough shocks today. Oh, and where’s that roll I stepped on?”
Winter spoke from the back of the car.
“You gave it to the pig, sir, at Goschen.”
“So I did,” said Herrick. “So I did. You know, it’s almost biblical. I picked at my omelet this morning – a succulent, mushroom omelet fit for the gullet of a king. And tonight I would fain fill my belly with the crusts that the swine did eat. Learn of me, Winter – and never let me do that again.
“Very good, sir,” said Winter, obediently.
I let in the clutch…
For more than a mile to come we threaded a dark green forest of close-set firs, and then we passed over some ridge and began to go down between meadows of very fine grass. No signs of habitation were to be seen, but that meant little enough, for the country was very blind and more than once that day we had taken a bend to find before us a village which we had supposed to be yet a long way off. And then, on a sudden, there appeared a fork in the road.
As I set a foot on the brake, I threw a glance at Herrick, to see him asleep, and after a moment’s reflection I switched to the left. I confess that the way to the right was the better road, but that climbed up once more, while that to the left led on down, and, to tell the truth, I was more for the comfort of country that man administered than the proud domain which was ruled by Nature alone. Facilis descensus… Before half a mile had gone by, I had an uneasy feeling that we were making the most of some private road, but since I could not turn round there was nothing to do but go on. Another two furlongs proved my suspicion just, and I rounded a bend to see our way swallowed up by the shade of two mighty chestnuts which were standing, like Gog and Magog, before a substantial farm.
Now I could not turn the Rolls round without driving past the chestnuts and so right up to the house, and since, if we were observed, we could scarcely withdraw without excusing ourselves, it seemed to me that we might as well ask where we were and then endeavour to find the farm on the map. But when I put this to Herrick, he only bade me proceed and let him be, and when I said that we could no longer go on, he said he was glad to hear it and settled himself for a further and better sleep.
I decided to force his hand, and drove up to the house.
The doors and windows were open, but no one was to be seen, and I saw at once that here was more than a farm, for the house was more important than any of those we had passed.
As Winter opened my door, a pleasant-looking woman appeared at the head of the steps…
I had no hat to take off, but I bowed and smiled. Then I pointed to the map in my hand, and, speaking, for some absurd reason, in what I believed to be French, announced that we were lost and requested the name of the house.
The woman smiled.
“I think you are English,” she said.
I could hardly believe my ears, and I think my look of amazement made her laugh. Be that as it may, the two of us laughed together as though at some excellent jest, till a bright-eyed girl came running, to see what the matter might be.
Her mother addressed her in German, still shaking with mirth, and the two of them laughed together before returning to me.
“My mother,” said the girl, “can only speak two or three words, but I am better, sir, if you will say what you want.”
“She’s better than I am,” said I. “And you are extremely good. Have you ever been in England?”
“Oh, no. But every summer an English family stays here. They come in August to fish. And they have been good to teach me as much as I know.”
“Do you mean that they stay here?” said I. “That they lodge with you?”
“Always,” said Brenda, proudly – for I later learned that that was her name. “They have made us a beautiful bathroom two years ago.”
Listen,” said I. “From nine o’clock this morning my friend and I have been scouring time countryside to try and find an inn at which we could possibly stay. We could not even find one at which we could break our fast.”
Brenda nodded sympathetically.
“The inns are no good,” she said.
“Will you receive us?” I said. “We shan’t be any trouble, and my servant here will do all he can to help.”
The girl consulted her mother. I watched them with my heart in my mouth.
Then —
“We shall be pleased,” she said simply, “until the end of July.”
I could have flung my arms around her neck. Instead, I shook hands with them both and then ran round to rouse Herrick and tell him my wonderful news.
He heard me out in silence.
Then —
“Young man,” he said, “from now on I shall take a back seat. I’m very much wiser than you – to turn to the left like that was the act of a fool – but you’re one of Fortune’s darlings, and that’s worth all the wisdom in all the world. And now let’s consider the flesh. I think we might prove that bathroom – as soon as we’ve had some beer.”
As may be believed, we did no more that evening than minister to our needs and stroll in content about our heritage. The house, which had been a bailiff’s, was full of fine rooms: our apartments were all that two men could ever desire: and the Rolls was lodged in a coach-house which would have accepted three cars. All this was well enough, but the honest goodwill that was shown to us was such as a man remembers as long as he lives. With it all, no questions were asked and we were left to ourselves.
After breakfast the following day, we returned to the map. We found our bearings at once, for the farm was marked. The name of it was Raven: and Brief lay eleven miles off. Such a distance was very convenient, for while we could have gone to the castle in twenty minutes or less, we were out of the range of such gossip as comes to a servants’ hall.
The estate was large, but the castle stood to one side: and that, of course, was something, for if it had stood in the middle, unless we were ready to trespass, we could have seen nothing at all. About the estate stood mountains – so much was clear. But whether, by climbing one, we should have a fair view of the castle was more than we could divine. Still, we carefully pencilled the roads which, so to speak, by-passed Brief on the southern side, for that was the side upon which the castle was built. And then we set out to prove them. Unless the map was lying, if Brief could be commanded from any point, that point could only be reached from one of our pencilled roads.
At half-past ten that morning the three of us entered the Rolls, and I drove leisurely westward, while Herrick and Winter regarded the countryside. It seemed as well to get our surroundings by heart.
At every side road, I stopped, and we studied the map, so that, though our progress was slow, we all of us knew continually where we were. And then I turned north and on to our pencille
d roads.
It was half-past twelve and we were among the mountains, when the way which we were using began to rise very steeply, after the way of a pass. This was so much to the good, but hereabouts the map and the country agreed together so ill that we could not determine the heights which we were beginning to climb. As though to confuse us still more, the road bent to and fro and doubled upon itself, while the woods through which we were moving were very thick and the trees upon either hand met over our heads. Though we were not lost, we were as good as blindfolded, and after five minutes had passed we knew not which way we were going nor whence we had come. For all that, our surroundings were lovely – a twisting, irregular tunnel of lively green, and since we could do nothing until this came to an end, we gave ourselves up to enjoying a bewildering passage which, if they had known of its beauty, a great many people, I think, would have travelled a long way to make. The air was most sweet and cool and, because of a thousand springs, the earth gave off a fragrance which put to shame the bouquet of any wine: the glare of the sun was tempered to a delicate brilliance which lighted the tenderest detail without besetting the eye: and the heavy curtains of foliage, hanging on either side, were quick with the pipe and the flutter of countless birds.
We must have threaded this natural gallery for nearly two miles, when we heard, at first very faint, the roar of falling water some distance ahead.
“And very nice, too,” said Herrick, cocking an ear. “This means a break in the trees. Stop when we get there, my boy, and, as the dog to his vomit, so I will return to the map. I need hardly say that it shows no sign of water. In fact, I’m inclined to think that they guessed this bit. The temptation, no doubt, was great. Nobody seems to come here: so who on earth was ever to say they were wrong?”
Whilst he was speaking we had been rounding a bend, and, though we could not yet see it, the song of some great cascade was growing more impressive with every yard. Then we floated over a crest, and there was a bridge before us, some forty yards off.
I am sure that neither Winter nor I will ever forget the moment when we walked on to that bridge. We had never before encountered so tremendous a head of water falling from such a height; and what with the terrible might of the sheaves and tresses of foam, the everlasting roar and the definite quaking of the ground upon which we stood, we felt both dazed and abashed and looked the one to the other, as men in the presence of something they cannot conceive.
I do not know how long I stood staring, but I suddenly found that Herrick had hold of my arm. Because of the tumult I could not hear what he said, but I let him turn me about and bring me up to the parapet of the bridge.
I now had my back to the fall and at once I leaned over and down to see if the splendour below us compared with the grandeur above, but Herrick would not allow me to do as I wished, jerking my arm and shouting, until in some impatience I lifted my head.
And then I saw he was pointing – not at the raging water, but out of the gap in the trees.
A crow’s mile away stood a castle, built on the spur of a foothill against the green of the woods. With the naked eye I could see four staircase-turrets, and towards the left of the pile was rising one great, round tower.
Ten minutes later, perhaps, I made Winter a little speech.
Herrick and I had strolled on, out of sound of the fall, and Winter had taken the Rolls and had caught us up.
“I want you to know,” said I, “why we three are here and what we are out to do. In that castle you saw I believe there to live three people. One is the present owner, the Count of Brief: the second, his only child: and the third, a nephew of his – a Mr Percy Virgil, by name.”
“The same, sir?” said Winter, shortly.
“The same,” said I.
“Thank you, sir,” said Winter, between his teeth.
“Now though Mr Virgil lives there, he is not the son of the house, and the castle is not his home. It is his cousin’s home – and yet he lives there…
“I have reason to think that the Count of Brief prefers Mr Virgil, his nephew, before his only child: and since the Count is about as big a sweep as Mr Virgil himself, I think it more than likely that, between the two, his cousin has a very thin time. And his cousin is a girl – the Lady Elizabeth Virgil, just twenty-four years old.
“Well, we are here to find out if my suspicion is just. No more than that for the moment – I may be entirely wrong.”
“I’ll lay you’re not, sir,” said Winter. “He’d cut his own mother’s throat, if she stood in his way. Cold iron, he is – cold iron: an’ as truly wicked a blackguard as ever I met.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” said I. “But we’ve got to make sure. And that’s not going to be at all easy, because we must not be seen. But I think the first thing to do is to keep some observation upon the castle itself. And what we are able to see may give us a line to work on…
“Mr Herrick knows the castle – he stayed there before the War. But that is as much as he knows, and we know nothing at all. So we’ve all got to use our wits. We’re up against a blank wall, on the other side of which is the picture we want to see. Well, we’ve got to climb it somehow, and if it’s not to be climbed – well, damn it, we’ll have to go round.”
If that was as much as I said, it was more than enough to fan to a flame the embers of Winter’s zeal, and from that time on he was heart and soul in the business, as I shall show.
The astonishing chance which led us straight to the viewpoint to which we had hoped to come was the only stroke of good fortune we met that day. To be sure, it was handsome enough: but the fact remains that, so far as we could discover, the bridge from which we had sighted the Castle of Brief was the one and only point on the roads we had marked from which that remarkable pile could be fairly surveyed. And this was provoking, for, while the prospect it offered was all that we could have desired, as a post of observation the bridge was untenable. Apart from drowning the voice, after a very few minutes the uproar and the concussion the water made distracted the wits; the bruised and battered senses began to demand relief; and I think that no man that had stayed could have usefully given his mind to anything else.
However, we now had our bearings, and, the map proving faithful once more, we never lost them again. This to Herrick’s credit, for I never saw country so blind. Unless we were high, we could see no distance at all, and when we began to rise, the forests clothing the mountains directly obscured our view. If clearings there were, we never came across them, and the very few ‘windows’ we found were made by other cascades and did not happen to face the way we wished. The estate of Brief itself seemed to resemble the country in which it stood, and foothills hid the castle from all of the lower roads.
By four o’clock that day we had compassed the property twice and had never seen so much as the top of the tower, but, for what it was worth, we knew the lie of the land and had marked the two entrance drives and three or four tracks which would have accepted a car. To a great extent we had the ways to ourselves, and, except in one village, called Gola, I do not think our passage excited remark. But we ran through that twice, which was foolish, and the second time, looking back, I saw a smith and his helper run out of the forge and stand staring after the Rolls, with their tools in their hands.
When I told Herrick, he sighed.
“Can’t be helped,” he said. “But a blacksmith’s forge is as bad as a barber’s shop. Gossip. And that’s the worst of using a notable car. We’d better give Gola a miss for as long as we can.”
It was after that that we climbed again to the bridge, and, berthing the Rolls beyond it, turned to the arduous business of proving the woods through which the cascade fell down. Except by entering these, we could not possibly tell whether or no they were hiding some coign which commanded Brief, for we could only survey them by looking up from below – an angle which showed us no more than a billowing quilt of leaves.
For three full hours we fought with that mountainside, and for all the good we did
we might never have left the car. We could not even reach the head of the fall, for after perhaps two hundred and fifty feet I came to a hidden cornice of blue-grey rock, and though, in view of the tales which men of the mountains tell, I hardly like to say that this could not have been climbed, I should like to see the man that could have climbed it and, better still, the manner in which he went to work. As for finding a point of view, but for the roar of the water, we should not have known where we were, and, until I came back to the road, I never found so much as a rest for the sole of my foot.
Going down, I met Winter past speaking, clinging to the roots of a beech, but of Herrick I saw no sign till I came to a brake of brambles not more than sixty feet up. Here his hat was hanging, caught up on a venomous sucker that sprang from a monstrous bush, and, since he was not to be seen, I supposed that I had passed him by in my descent – for had he been coming down, he would not have left his hat. I, therefore, shouted his name with all my might, to be answered from the midst of the brambles by which I stood.
“I trust,” he said gravely, “that you have enjoyed your stroll. I’m not going to ask if you’ve viewed the promised land – first, because I know the answer, and, secondly, because I am not interested in posts of observation to which only an anthropoid ape can conveniently repair. And now, if Winter’s alive, you might procure my release. I’ll direct the operation – I’ve had nothing to do for ten minutes but work it out.”
“You’re not hurt?”
“No. Merely disabled. If I don’t breathe, I hardly suffer at all. But to move means laceration. You see, I’m embedded in something which simply must not be touched. Transgress this law, and you’re savaged beyond belief.” I heard him sigh. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it. I know I have certain failings, but I always thought this sort of thing was reserved for the mute of malice and people like that. Still, of course, the saints went through it… I think that’s Winter coming. You might tell him to incline to the right. If he were to drop upon me, you wouldn’t hear the fall for my screams. And I should go mad and kill him before I died.”
She Painted Her Face Page 3
