From Across the Ancient Waters- Wales

by Michael Phillips

  Trembling to have been discovered, Gwyneth did not move.

  “I demand that you come down.”

  Still Gwyneth did not flinch.

  He realized that she was calling his bluff. Unless he was prepared to climb up the tree after her, he would come off looking impotent. So Courtenay changed his tactic. “This is my property,” he said. “You are on the Westbrooke Manor estate. You are not allowed here. Perhaps you wandered here by mistake, so I will let it go this time. But if I find you trespassing again, I will not be so lenient. I hope I have made myself understood.”

  “Watch yourself, Courtenay,” said Florilyn. “You don’t want to get any more bouquets.”

  Rhawn’s ears perked up at the mention of the mystery of the flowers.

  “It’s all right. Let’s go,” said Courtenay, still a little ruffled. “The sooner we get away from here the better.”

  The others continued on their way.

  Percy rode toward the tree, stopped, and glanced up. “Hello, Gwyneth,” he said. “What are you doing so far from home? You’re not lost?”

  The merry laugh that met his ears rang out louder than he had imagined her voice capable of.

  “Come down and join us. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  Gwyneth scampered down through the branches as if she were a tree lizard. In less than a minute, she was standing beside Percy’s mount.

  He reached down with his hand and again pulled her up and behind him on Grey Tide’s rump as if she were weightless.

  The other three watched with mixed reactions to see their foursome suddenly turned into a fivesome, and an unwelcome one at that. For the rest of the way back, they kept their distance.

  The remainder of the ride was subdued. Had he dared, Courtenay would have given Percy a tongue lashing for interfering. The two girls kept their own counsel as well, but for very different reasons.

  Gradually Percy’s horse, with Gwyneth hanging on behind him, moved farther ahead. Their companions could hear Gwyneth and Percy laughing and talking. The very sound of it irritated two of them almost to distraction.

  Courtenay’s brief thaw toward Percy had thoroughly frozen over. He was profoundly annoyed to have his rebuke of Gwyneth so completely ignored.

  The incident had also seriously tarnished the luster in which Percy stood in Rhawn Lorimer’s eyes. She had done everything but kiss him, and he had as good as laughed at her. Yet now he was falling all over himself to give the little witch a ride home. She was more jealous of Gwyneth than she had ever been of Florilyn.

  How could she be jealous of a mere child? The whole thing made her furious. She was more than a little afraid of Gwyneth, too. She knew the rumors as well as everyone else. But there was nothing she could do.

  As they rode, however, Florilyn found herself filled with odd and unexpected reactions that were strangely sympathetic toward Percy. She didn’t dare say anything to the other two. But as she listened to Courtenay and Rhawn grumbling angrily, she found herself wondering just what was so despicable about his being nice to one of the village children.

  Not so very long ago she had been intentionally cruel to him, trying to bait him and make him angry. Yet he had been stubbornly insistent on being nice to her, too. She didn’t deserve it, but he had persistently paid back her meanness with kindness. How could she fault him for being nice to someone else?

  Percy treated everyone the same, whether rich or poor, boy or girl, young or old. After a summer in his presence, she had begun to realize what an unusual, and perhaps even wonderful, quality that was.

  42

  Lake Creature of Gwynedd

  The first days of his summer had been so tedious and slow. Suddenly Percy realized that his summer in Wales was flying by so rapidly that it would soon be at an end. What had begun as an incarceration had turned into the experience of a lifetime. It was with a poignant sense of melancholy that he realized he would soon be saying good-bye to all this.

  Late in the morning of a brilliant warm day of early August, Percy set out on horseback for the hilly region northeast of Westbrooke Manor. After his ride with the other three, it had come into his mind to venture even farther into the mountainous inland region, where Stuart Wykeham, the gardener, told him several small, high, cold crystal lakes lay tucked between the peaks and offered a spectacular sight of the sort one never forgets.

  Percy made his way through the east gate of the estate in high spirits, continued in the same direction through an ascending valley between two flanking ridges, then cut northward into the high hills. No trail marked his way underfoot, but he had been given rough directions by Wykeham and Hollin Radnor. He was confident enough in his sense of direction by this time that he almost wanted to get lost for the sheer pleasure of finding his way back out of the mountains.

  A tremendous downpour had drenched the whole of Gwynedd the night before. Today’s sun made the earth shine as though it had been sprinkled with diamonds. From its grasses and shrubs and trees gently rose a fragrance sweeter than the most costly perfume. The melody of Wales infected Percy as he rode happily along. He found himself occasionally breaking into some song or other he had heard in town, though he didn’t even know the meaning of half the words he tried to sing.

  The climb steepened steadily the farther inland he progressed. In two hours, Grey Tide was breathing heavily. As they descended into valley or dell, losing sight temporarily of mountains ahead, a quiet sense of isolation stole over him. Percy felt that he was entering a fairytale world disconnected from Wales and England altogether. Scarce breeze could be felt, no sound heard other than the occasional call of a hawk high overhead.

  Rising out of these fairy hollows as he pursued his trek upward, the eastern mountains rose again into view. Once more Percy felt the gentle winds on his face. Pausing at the highest of each successive summit, he turned to behold the coastline spread out in the distance behind him, the deep blue of the sea stretched as to the very horizon. Then again he descended down the eastern slope, and all sense of being near the sea again vanished.

  Midway through the afternoon, growing tired but with the weary pride of accomplishment, Percy approached what he hoped, if he had followed the landmarks indicated by the manor’s two men correctly, would be the first of several lakes. He was leading Grey Tide through a wooded region of pine and fir. On his left rose a steep, rocky hillside, almost cliff-like and impassible, the opposite slope of which was supposed to overlook the tiny body of blue.

  Making certain of his bearings, he worked his mount around the base of this small mountain as he continued to move gradually upward. At length he came to a jagged opening to his left where the shoulder of a projecting ridge opened between this hill and the next, extending down almost to Percy’s level. Turning into this pass, Grey Tide scrambled with some difficulty up the rocky surface. Around several large boulders, Percy arrived at the overlook he sought.

  Cresting the summit of the narrow opening between the higher hills, Percy saw below him, surrounded on all sides by jagged rocky hills and peaks, a tiny lake of the most gorgeous blue imaginable. Not a ripple disturbed its surface. In size it could not have been more than three or four hundred feet across. The blue of its surface shimmered with the richest shade he had ever seen, growing almost black at the center, indicating great depth. Around the edges, the hues lightened to pale shades of turquoise, so still and pure as to make what could be seen of the bottom near the shoreline absolutely sparkling in clarity.

  Percy dismounted and stood as one transfixed. Trees surrounded most of the lake’s circumference, broken on one side by cliffs and boulders rising straight up from the glistening surface in the direction of the overlooking peaks. Directly across from this cliff face, among the trees, a grassy meadow stretched away from the water’s edge perhaps a hundred and fifty feet before giving way to the slopes of granite. Near the water’s edge stood a dozen or more deer gently drinking from the lake and nibbling at the grass.

  As he gazed, a sound began
to invade Percy’s ears. Faint at first, it gradually increased. He realized he was listening to some faint, strange, far-off kind of music. It did not sound human. But he had never heard bird or other animal make such a call. The crooning tone was melancholy, like the lamenting howl of wild dog or wolf. A faint hint of melody could be detected in the repetition of its ethereal notes, hovering ever and about some unknown minor key, never quite resolving itself, yet mysteriously satisfying and peaceful.

  Suddenly Percy remembered the rumored lake creature of the mountains.

  The strange, otherworldly, melodic crooning grew. Was this how the beast lured its victims into its lair, with sweet spells that wove a seductive enchantment over the senses, bewitching the unsuspecting to their eventual death? Was it perhaps a great bird of prey? The sound almost resembled the lonely cry of a hawk—peaceful, mesmerizing, terrifying. He knew great mountain birds existed, capable of killing animals many times their own size. Was it trying to lure him closer with the hypnotic beguilement of its music?

  The sight below him was truly lovely. Was that part of the bedevilment itself? Yet the sound floating over mountains and forest was not one he could fear.

  The strange crooning kept him riveted where he stood. It now seemed to be coming from the lake itself. He felt his feet moving forward, down the incline before him … toward the sound.

  Suddenly from behind the trees beyond the meadow, a figure appeared, a white-clad child-figure from whom the haunting melody came.

  Percy stopped and stood motionless.

  Here was no mountain bird, nor lake creature nor kelpie. It was Gwyneth singing to the animals!

  Even from this distance, under the crown that appeared reddish gold in the sunlight, he could almost see the two eyes of heaven’s blue, behind which dwelt something whose light and life came from another world altogether, and from Him who made heaven and earth together.

  A great joy rose in his heart as a smile rushed to Percy’s lips. His first instinct was to call out and rush down to her. Yet some power restrained both feet and tongue.

  Gwyneth held out her hand. Several deer slowly approached to nibble something from it. Around her feet scurried squirrels and chipmunks and rabbits and what looked to be a family of quail. Overhead swooped sparrows and robins. The melancholy crooning continued. Percy knew it was not meant for him.

  By and by the melody ceased.

  Gwyneth turned and retreated into the wood beyond the meadow. The rest of the small herd of deer lifted their heads from water and grass and followed her. So, too, did the smaller creatures.

  Knowing that he had been chosen to witness something holy, with careful step Percy returned up to the overlook. He took Grey Tide’s reins and led her on foot for five or ten minutes, then remounted and quietly retreated the way he had come.

  He had been to Gwyneth’s most special place of all. But it was one he could never tell her he had seen. This secluded corner of heaven had to remain hers alone.

  43

  Cousins and Friends

  It was early August. In two weeks, Percy would return to Glasgow. He had been revolving many things in his mind, especially about his future, about his father and what he would say to him when he saw him again. He knew there was much he needed to make right.

  Before that time came, however, he had one thing he had to take care of here.

  After several more days of intense riding, he judged himself as ready as he would ever be. He found an opportunity when Florilyn was alone outside. “Hey,” he called, running to catch her.

  She turned. “Hi, Percy,” she said, greeting him with a pleasant smile.

  “I’ll be returning to Glasgow before much longer,” he said, falling into stride beside her.

  “Is it that soon already?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “It won’t be the same here without you.”

  “Glad to get rid of me at last, eh!” Percy laughed good-naturedly.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know. Just teasing. You have to admit that your brother will be happy to see me go.”

  “Maybe so—but Courtenay can be an old poop. He didn’t learn to—” Florilyn hesitated. “I’ve … I have enjoyed having you here,” she said after a moment, glancing toward him with an awkward smile. “I know I wasn’t very nice at first—”

  “Aw, forget it,” said Percy. “No harm done. You know what Bill Shakespeare says.”

  “I remember,” she smiled. “‘All’s well that ends well.’ Do you really know your Shakespeare that well?”

  “Are you kidding?” Percy laughed. “I was a terrible student in school. I’m sure you know more Shakespeare than I do.”

  “I doubt that. I wasn’t the shiniest apple in the barrel either.”

  Percy laughed again. “That’s a good one! No—I just throw around a quote or two once in a while to pretend I know what I’m talking about.”

  Florilyn laughed. “You are too funny, Percy! You’ve always got a comeback. Is there anything in life you take seriously?”

  “Probing the Drummond psyche, are you now?”

  Florilyn smiled. “I suppose I’m interested in what makes you tick.”

  “That’s a switch.”

  “You’ve got to give a girl a chance to change, to see things more clearly. That’s only fair, don’t you think?”

  “You’re right. I suppose we’ve both done some changing this summer. Why are you interested in what makes me tick?”

  “I don’t know. Isn’t it natural for people to be interested in one another?”

  “Maybe so. But I don’t think anyone’s ever said something like that to me before. I’m not sure I know what makes me tick myself!” Percy laughed.

  “There you go making a joke again!”

  “It wasn’t really a joke. It’s the truth,” rejoined Percy, then grew quiet. “Yes—there are things I take seriously. Knowing that I will see my father in a couple weeks is enough to make me somber in a hurry.”

  “Why?”

  “My father and I haven’t exactly been on the best of terms for the last several years.”

  “You’re not eager to see him?”

  “That’s not it exactly. It’s more … “Percy paused and drew in a thoughtful breath. He remained quiet for several long seconds. “I’m not sure I want it to continue the way it’s been,” he went on at length. “You say you’ve changed. I’m changing, too. I am beginning to realize that my father is a good man, an honorable man, a man of character and principle. Maybe it’s time I owned up to that fact. I want to own up to it. I want to know him man to man, not as a pouty, spoiled, self-centered boy.”

  Florilyn took in Percy’s words without reply. They struck a chord in her heart as well.

  “But I didn’t come out here to talk about all that,” Percy added with a smile.

  “What then?”

  “You and I have some unfinished business.”

  Florilyn returned his look with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

  “Our rematch,” said Percy, eyes gleaming in fun. “I want another chance to race you.”

  “Ah!” exclaimed Florilyn, her eyes now also lighting up. “A glutton for punishment, are you?”

  “You are assuming the outcome before we saddle the horses,” chided Percy playfully.

  “It’s your pride on the line,” rejoined Florilyn with equal humor.

  “I will risk it. My pride is equal to the task.”

  “Then you’re on, cousin!” Floriyn laughed. “Just name the time and place.”

  “You are going to let me pick the place?”

  “Why not? I’m so much faster than you, I ought to give you some advantage.”

  Percy roared with delight. “You wouldn’t care to place a small wager on the outcome?” he asked.

  Now it was Florilyn’s turn to break out in a peal of laughter. Her merriment could be heard throughout the manor grounds. “If you are so anxious to lose your money,” she
said.

  “I wasn’t thinking of money.”

  “What then?”

  “I don’t know—what about the loser waits on the winner for a day. She obeys his every command and wish with good humor and without complaint.”

  Florilyn could not stop laughing at the delicious prospect. “Don’t you mean—he obeys her every command?”

  “My dear cousin Florilyn, I fear you seriously underestimate your opponent.”

  “You are on!” giggled Florilyn again.

  “Then I propose as our appointed venue,” said Percy, “the harbor beach at low tide.”

  “Why there?” said Florilyn.

  “That would make it a race of pure speed,” replied Percy. “It is flat, straight, no streams or logs or obstacles for you to trick me with.”

  Florilyn smiled. Her mood grew subdued. “That was mean of me, wasn’t it? I won’t do that again. All right then, the beach it is.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Agreed.”

  “And horses?”

  “Obviously, as you are the serious underdog, it is only right of me to let you select your mount.”

  “Then I will ride Grey Tide. And you?”

  “I will have to think about it. But probably Red Rhud.”

  “I will check with one of my fisherman friends this afternoon,” said Percy. “I will let you know the exact time of low tide.”

  44

  The Race

  At two o’clock on the following afternoon, just south of the Llanfryniog harbor, a strange scene had begun to unfold. A small gathering had formed on the wide glistening sand comprised of what might be considered an odd assortment of individuals. That Lord Snowdon’s son and daughter and nephew appeared at the center of the commotion might seem to indicate some kind of aristocratic sport in progress. But that the shepherd from the inland hills, Stevie Muir, stood talking to Percy Drummond, while his tiny cousin, Gwyneth Barrie, held the reins of one of the prized horses from the manor’s stables, spoke of wider involvement than merely the region’s blue bloods.