On the great night, the Oldknow family coach joined the procession of other more elegant coaches driving to the magnificent house where the King was being entertained. The drive in itself was an extraordinary excitement, for they saw the arrival of all the nobility of the district; and among them the court beauties and their escorts. More amusing to Toby was the running hither and thither of liveried servants with lights; the haughty grooms with handsome horses drawing their empty coaches out of the way and shouting at their rivals when wheels became interlocked or ill-guided horses sidled into theirs.
Seats had been found for Alexander’s family in the musicians’ gallery, from which they had an excellent view of the King’s party and the masque. The story that was to be acted and sung was this: Cupid and Death had put up at the same inn, and while they were sleeping, the arrows in their quivers were changed over, so that afterwards whoever was shot by Death, instead of dying, fell in love, while whoever was shot by Cupid, instead of falling in love, died. This was all very amusing, because Death shot the old people, who as lovers were ridiculous; and laughing Cupid was vexed and perplexed when all his young lovers died. On the whole Death had the most fun, but he took it gloomily.
If Alexander was nervous of appearing before such a grand audience he did not show it. He was a wonderfully mischievous Cupid and sang with confidence. His voice was the success of the evening, though Linnet shared his popularity when she hung over the balcony at the close of the play and shouted ‘Bravo, Cupid!’ in the silence when everyone was waiting for the King to rise.
The King turned to look, and smiled to see Linnet blushing, with her hand clapped over her mouth. He talked awhile with the ladies who were with him, the younger of whom seemed gently to urge him to send one of the gentlemen in waiting on an errand. This gentleman found Alexander in the actors’ room and told him that His Majesty did him the honour of sending for him. Alexander followed him through the jostling, staring crowd, feeling very naked, as indeed he was, having nothing on but a wreath of flowers, a white Grecian kilt and his wings and sandals. In front of the royal dais he dropped on to one knee. The King, who had a long sarcastic face and melancholy eyes, looked at him mockingly but with pleasure.
‘Take his bow from him,’ he said to a gentleman standing near. ‘I cannot risk any more trouble. My hands are quite full already. Master Cupid, these ladies desire to know you better. Your arrows may be sham, but your voice, it would seem, strikes home. You have given us and our companions pleasure and we should wish to give you some token of it. In your present nakedness it is impossible to guess what you might lack. Have you any boy’s wish that your King might supply?’
‘Your Majesty,’ said Alexander simply, ‘I would like a flute.’
‘You shall have it. Addio, Master Cupid. It was well sung.’
So that was how Alexander got his flute.
*
MRS OLDKNOW’S FEARS were justified. It did freeze that night. The air sang with frost as Toseland lay in bed, and the birds roosted in his hospitable branches. The owls hooted outside. Their sound seemed to echo from a glassy, frost-hard sky. Tolly could literally hear how wide the meadows were.
He was dropping off to sleep and already his waking thoughts were mixed with dreams of an echoing palace inhabited by a man with eyes like a parrot, when a direful shriek startled him and he huddled in bed, wide awake. An owl had come close to the window, perching on the gutter with his ogre claws. His voice sounded almost in the room. The birds twittered with fright, the mouse squeaked and so – if truth must be told – did Tolly, pulling the bedclothes up to cover his ears. It was with an effort of courage that he dared to look towards the window to see if the owl could possibly get in. His night-light had guttered out in the draught and he had to strain his eyes for the movement of shadowy forms against the dim window.
There was something outlined against the panes. It was the back of a curly head, and two little fists hammering on the glass inside scared the owl away.
He heard a scamper of bare feet, and Linnet’s voice saying, ‘Ugh! My feet are cold. It’s a punishment because I said my prayers in bed tonight. I hope the owl doesn’t come back.’
‘I’ll go next time,’ said Tolly.
‘Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, Bless the bed that I lie on,’ said Linnet.
‘You’re saying them in bed again,’ said Alexander.
‘I know, but he’s going to be punished for me next time. He said he would.’
Tolly and Alexander laughed and there was peace and company in the dark room. If the owl came back, they were all asleep.
Next morning there was a fringe of icicles all round the roof, as if the house needed its hair cutting. The trees twinkled with needles of ice. The garden was an ice switchback. At breakfast Mrs Oldknow said: ‘I must really get ready for Christmas. There are only a few days left.’
‘Can we give them a present?’ said Tolly.
‘What would you suggest?’
‘The first day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
A partridge in a pear tree.’
Tolly was thinking aloud.
‘I think that would be perfect, but a little difficult. Not absolutely impossible. It would be difficult to get a live partridge and harder to make it stay in the tree. It ought really to be a tame one.’
‘It could be in a cage, and we could tame it afterwards.’
‘I’m sure they never had a partridge. Linnet would love it, with all its brood running after it like tortoiseshell thimbles with legs. Let’s try, Tolly. It’s a perfect idea. We’ll advertise: ‘Wanted, live hen partridge, preferably tame.’ And I’ll write to a gamekeeper I know in Scotland. Bring me my writing paper, I’ll do it at once.’
Tolly and she enjoyed themselves writing what seemed ridiculous letters. They also chose out of a catalogue a pear tree described as having ‘juicy melting flesh, delicious flavour’.
While they were writing, Boggis brought in some magazines and a note from a neighbour, who offered to drive Mrs Oldknow in to Greatchurch if she had anything to do there, and also to take her to a concert.
‘That means I can’t take you, Tolly. What a shame. But we will go together another time. Boggis will have to look after you. Please thank her, Boggis, and say I will be ready at eleven. What are those papers?’
‘Something about the house, m’m, that she thought might interest you.’
Mrs Oldknow with her baskets for the Christmas shopping went off in her friend’s car. Tolly went out into the garden. The snow, first melted and then frozen over, looked messy, lifeless and uninviting. There was thin ice on the moat, not strong enough to bear his weight. He went to the fish platform and broke the ice there, clearing a pool and throwing bread in. Neptune’s ugly snout with whiskers made of flesh like sea-anemones came and sucked it in. But Tolly could not love Neptune. Mrs Oldknow said that when he was young he was almost as pretty as a goldfish. Tolly fed him for Toby’s sake, but thought he was horrid.
Turning away from the pool he looked around for the tree that during the snow had been like a snowman, the tree called Green Noah. He was startled to find himself so near it. In the tangle of briars, saplings and brushwood which the wood path, that he had so often followed, skirted at a careful distance, stood a tall yew column, roughly shaped like Noah with his usual square shoulders and fantastic flat bowler hat. It was not surprising that Tolly had not noticed it before, because it was so long since it had been trimmed that it had grown wild and hairy, its outline almost lost. Most shocking of all, two long, undisciplined arms had grown out from shoulder height with open fingers and hanging sleeves. Tolly was seized with panic and ran as fast as he could over the icy slopes to find Boggis.
Boggis was whitewashing the little saddle-room where he kept his blue tea-pot and mug and his primus stove. Today he had a little fire in the grate. His face looked redder and his eyes bluer than ever, and the whitewash had a comforting, homely smell.
‘Can’t do nothing outside today,�
�� he said. ‘I made a fire so we could have our dinner cosy-like, seeing that you’re alone.’
At each side of the grate old horse-shoes were hanging, arranged in overlapping rows to make a sort of frame for it. They were all different, as if one had been kept from each horse that had lived there. Boggis had whitewashed the wall and had hung them all back on their nails. Tolly studied them with interest. How they varied! Some were obviously cart-horses’ and some ponies’, but in between were the carriage horses’ and the hunters’, the thoroughbreds’. One perhaps was Feste’s. Is there among horse-shoes one that stands out for its delicate curve, suggesting the perfect hoof, the sure and dancing step? Tolly thought so. He chose out one shoe for his love, and when Boggis was not looking he wrote in the clean circle of wall behind it, ‘Feste’.
‘Boggis,’ he asked presently, ‘have you got a grandson?’
‘I had, but he was killed in the last war.’
‘Well, have you got a son?’
‘I had, two. But they were killed in the first war.’
Tolly was upset by this news. How would anything go on if there wasn’t a Boggis? Then he remembered that he was only there himself as if it were sideways, through his mother.
‘Well, haven’t you a grand-daughter, then?’
‘Yes, I have. And she’s got a son.’
‘But he won’t be called Boggis.’
‘Yes, he will that.’
‘Oh, then that’s all right.’
‘No, it isn’t all right. It’s all wrong, because she isn’t married.’
‘But there must be a Boggis, mustn’t there?’
‘Well, Master Toseland, I shouldn’t say so, least of all to you, but I do like to think he’ll have the name. The child just missed being called Liquorice, and what sort of a name is that!’ Boggis guffawed, rocking on his heels. ‘Percy Liquorice! That’s what he’d have been. And his mother’s a good girl barring accidents.’
Boggis spread newspapers on the table for a cloth and sent Tolly to fill the kettle and to fetch the sandwiches that Mrs Oldknow had put ready for him. They sat down one each side of the blue teapot. Boggis hung his cap on the point of a horseshoe. His bald scalp was as white as a hard-boiled egg above his scarlet face. He made the tea, taking the tea-leaves from his waistcoat pocket. The sugar was in the pocket on the other side. He slipped the spoon straight into it. So it was unlikely he had taken the lump sugar put out for Feste.
Tolly thought his own sandwiches were so much nicer that it was embarrassing. His were ham, and then cheese and lettuce, and afterwards banana. Boggis had slabs of bread and mustard-coloured pickle. He refused any exchange with scorn.
‘I like something you can taste,’ he said. ‘These pickled onions eat lovely.’
‘Did you know my grandfather?’ said Tolly as they munched.
‘That I did. He was a limb of mischief, he and his brothers. There were six of them. I remember one day they were all in that field at the back here, looking for mushrooms. The bull had been put out with the cows and the boys hadn’t noticed, till all of a sudden he was well-nigh snorting in their pants. I seed them all run for the river and pop in one after the other, swimming with all their clothes on like so many frogs. I couldn’t help but laugh. My son was batman to your grandfather in the first war. They were killed together. In the second war it was my grandson as was the sergeant and your father was his corporal. He carried my grandson across an open bridge when his legs were shot off. That’s how he came here and met your mother, Miss Linnet. He came to see me and bring my grandson’s things and tell us about him.’
‘Tell me about my mother.’
‘She was a proper caution too. Many a time she made me laugh, she did say such things. I remember once when she was only a little thing she said to me, “Boggis,” she said, “are you as red all over as your face is?” She did! Are you as red all over as your face! “No, Miss Linnet,” I said, “I’m as white all over as my head is,” and I pulled my cap off to show her. How I did laugh!’
Boggis’s tales were not nearly as good as Mrs Oldknow’s. The queer thing was, that the nearer to the present time they were, the more remote they seemed. Tolly was far more interested in Toby than he was in his father as the corporal.
After lunch he wandered back to the house. It seemed very empty without Mrs Oldknow, as though not only she had gone, but all the possibilities of the house had gone with her. Even the picture looked different, and Tolly was almost surprised to see that the children’s grandmother was still there.
On the table lay the two magazines that had been brought in by Boggis. Tolly looked at them. One was called Here and There. There was a red pencil mark under the title ‘Homes the Crusaders Left Behind Them’. It was a long article, too full of historic references for Tolly to read, but it was illustrated with photographs of such houses as still existed from which crusaders were known to have gone. Green Knowe was one of them, and there was a photograph of St Christopher and an imaginary drawing of the Chapel.
The other magazine was called Adam’s Seed. It was all about gardening, and the sender had marked with red pencil ‘Some Unusual Topiary’. There were photographs of different things that had been cut out of yew and holly – yew eagles, a yew ship, yew chessmen, crowns, armchairs, a holly horse, a yew lady in a bath in a willow summerhouse plaited like a basket out of living wands. Turning the page he came upon the green deer, the squirrel, the hare, the cock and hen – and Green Noah, a photograph taken a long time ago, because it showed Noah smaller and closely trimmed. Tolly began to read in earnest.
‘Perhaps the most unusual and romantic of these examples is that of the Green Noah which now gives its name to the estate on which it stands, though the original name was Green Knowe. The story about it is widespread. It has been told me in much the same form in different “locals” all over the county, and also still further afield, by old men who remembered hearing it in their childhood. It seems that an old gardener called Boggis first shaped the various animals and later added a figure of Noah. He was much addicted to drink and suffered from delusions, but no one can deny his skill, and his employer appears to have allowed him a free hand. When Noah was a few years old and growing nicely, it happened that a famous horse-thief was caught red-handed in the stables of Green Knowe, as it was still called. He came up before the owner, Judge Oldknow, for trial. He was condemned, and after lying in Newgate prison for some years, he was deported to Botany Bay. His mother, Old Petronella, a gypsy and a notorious witch, is said to have revenged herself by breaking into the gardens during an eclipse of the moon and there with horrible dancing and laughter that was heard in the house (though no one knew what it was that so chilled their blood) she laid a curse on the Green Noah. The traditional version is:
Snippet snappet
Shapen yew
Devil’s image
Take on you.
Evil grow,
Evil be,
Green Noah
Demon Tree.
‘As the tree grew, a series of unexplained accidents overtook the men of the family, in every case due to shying or bolting horses. According to the villagers, the horses panicked because of a blind figure that prowled by night. Some say that Old Petronella herself was caught by him in the end. Before long the name Green Knowe was forgotten, the people insisting on calling it Green Noah. The photograph that is reproduced here is at least thirty years old, as for a long time nobody has been willing to trim the Old Gentleman. It is to be hoped that in the end he will lose all resemblance and the curse will lapse.’
As Tolly finished reading the story, he suddenly realized that not only was Mrs Oldknow still away, but Boggis had finished his work and gone home. It was nearly dark, and he was alone. For some reason he felt convinced that until his great-grandmother returned, not so much as a marble would move in the house. He felt no such assurance about the garden. He lit all the candles, made up the fire, laid out the tea, and sat down to wait in the inglenook where once Toby had sat. He
played sad little tunes on his flute with many wrong notes, and he wished with all his heart that she would come back.
When at last he heard a car he hurried to meet her.
‘I thought you were never coming!’ he said.
Mrs Oldknow had masses of parcels and was laughing with pleasure. ‘Tolly, my dear, I’ve had a lovely day. I’ve brought back the Christmas tree – Boggis has taken it into the stables. And I’ve done some lucky shopping. Let’s have tea at once and I’ll tell you all about it. Oh, darling, you’ve put everything ready!’
She seemed as pleased to be with him again as he was to be with her. They laughed as they ate: they found everything funny. They made silly remarks for the sake of laughing at them. She told him about an old friend whom she had met for lunch who had grown a little queer in the head. ‘She wore two hats and two wristwatches, neither of which would go: but she knows a lot of sporting people. And I believe I’ve got a partridge. I must ring up an address she gave me tonight. If it’s all right we’ll go together and choose a pear tree at the nursery gardens. The old nurseryman who has sold me garden things all his life will think I have gone mad at last, when I say I want a four-year-old pear tree and it must have branches strong enough to bear a partridge cage and partridge. You say it, Toby. It won’t matter so much if you seem mad.’
‘You called me Toby,’ said Tolly, putting his arms round her neck from behind.
‘Well, how can I tell which of you it is when you are behind me?’
‘Well, it’s Tolly, unless Toby’s in the same place as me, like Alexander said.’
‘Well, if it’s Tolly, you can tell me what you did all day.’
‘I had a picnic with Boggis. He keeps his tea in one waistcoat pocket and his sugar in the other. He just puts the spoon straight in.’
‘Very convenient. My Boggis had an old tail-coat with pockets in the tails. He had a bottle of beer in each and he kept his sandwiches in his hat.’
The Children of Green Knowe Collection Page 9
