Storm Music (1934)

by Dornford Yates

  We crossed the moat by a drawbridge that could no longer be moved, and a gravel road brought us up to the castle gateway, which must have been twenty feet high. This was now shut by vast curtains of silver-grey, and to my surprise my lady rode straight between them, the horse's head and shoulders parting them as she went. We followed her under an archway and into a small courtyard.

  THE light was dim, for an awning like the curtains was slung some forty feet up, and the place had the cool of a grotto, for a fountain was playing in a basin and the walls and the flags were wet. Doors and windows were open on every side, and I afterwards learned that when the weather was hot, cool air was drawn from the courtyard to freshen the principal rooms.

  In the hall my lady left us, to go and change, and, when we had washed our hands, a servant led us to the terrace, where a table was laid.

  The view from here was astounding, for we looked clean over the forest, which seemed spread out like a fan, on to the foothills and mountains which

  stood in their ancient order, the nearest some seven miles off. The air being clear, we could see all the lovely detail of every tier, the woods that were hanging upon them and the lawns that lay like hammercloths over their heights, and .even the white of more than one great cascade, a sturdy cord that did not seem to be moving because it was so far off. Yet that was not all, for right in the midst of this background, peering from between two shoulders, was a bevy of tiny gables and miniature spires, grey against green in the sunshine, as soft as a tapestry town.

  "My weather-glass," said a voice, and there was the girl beside us, wearing a black and white dress, which I fear that I cannot describe beyond saying that though it seemed simple, it looked very smart. "I can tell from the look of Lass what the weather will be. Now, of course, it's only our nearest town, but Lass used to look to Yorick in years gone by. If the townspeople were in trouble they used to light a beacon which we could see— the cage is still there at the foot of one of those spires; and, when the watchman saw it, the riders of Yorick turned out and went down to their aid."

  "Oh, call back Time," said Geoffrey. "If the riders of Yorick were here ... I think you'll have to revive them raise a troop of horse. John can lead it and I'll work out the patrols."

  "And I could be the hospital nurse. I can't help feeling my hands would be very full."

  Here an Austrian lady joined us, a Madame Olave, who plainly lived at the castle for Lady Helena's sake. But though in this way convention was doubtless observed, as I have shown, my lady went unattended wherever she chose. Indeed, the idea of a duenna never entered my head, for she did not need the protection that any such woman could give, and I can think of no protest that would not have died unspoken before the look in her eyes.

  When luncheon was done, my cousin went off with this lady to see the gallery of pictures, while the sun was still in the south, but Lady Helena walked with me round the ramparts, showing me certain landmarks and telling me the lie of the land.

  After a little—

  "And now where's Plumage?" she said.

  "That way," said I, pointing. "You take that ride over there and bear to the left when you come to the stricken oak."

  "And Annabel?"

  "More to the right. Straight on till you come to the stream; then follow the water down."

  "And Villach?"

  For a moment I searched the distance, shading my eyes. Then

  "I think, beyond that mountain with the tuft of trees on its head."

  Lady Helena nodded.

  "Full marks," she said. "I won't trouble you any more. Was that grey all right this morning?"

  "Yes," said I. "He gave me a lovely ride."

  "I thought he would. You shall have him to take you back. I shall keep three horses at Plumage as long as you're there, with a groom, of course. You may have news any moment which I should hear. But please don't think they can only be ridden this way. They're for you and your cousin to use whenever you please."

  "I shall ride to Yorick," said I, "to see how you are."

  "But not too early," says she. "Yorick wakes up at six, but its eyes aren't properly open till eight o'clock. So don't ride before then, if you please, either in this direction or anywhere else. Or are you damned if you're going to be treated as though you were seven years old?"

  "No," said I, laughing. "I've too much to thank you for."

  Lady Helena smiled.

  But when at length she turned, her face was grave.

  "John, I'm going to ask you to do a difficult thing. It concerns old Florin. You see, it's so awful for him. He knows I can take no action, and what can he do? He's got to sit down helpless under this shattering blow, while the men that dealt it go free— and smoke and drink and sleep as they always have, as if they had stamped on some cockroach, instead of taking the life of his only son. And so I want you to see him and tell him what you told me— that you are out to get them and to see that justice is done."

  "With all my heart," said I. "Let me see him at once."

  Without a word she led me across the terrace and into a library. Then she summoned a servant and bade him ask the warden to come to her there.

  Two minutes later a man of some sixty summers was ushered into the room.

  He was dressed as his son had been dressed and must have stood six feet four; his head was high and his hair was thick and grey, and his eyes were set very wide in his rugged face; if his look was tired, he gave no sign of emotion of any kind, but only bowed to his mistress and then stood waiting like a hound with his eyes on her face.

  Helena spoke in German.

  "John, this is my warden. Florin, this is the gentleman of whom I spoke."

  The warden bowed to me when she had finished speaking, and I went forward directly and took his hand.

  "I can't bring back your son, Florin, but one day I'll show you his grave. Ifs a pretty place, far better than any churchyard, fit for a king. But before I take you there, I've some work to do. I'm going to find the fellows that took his life. And they're going to pay for it, Florin. I'll never rest till they're taken, alive or dead."

  The warden lifted his head and looked me full in the eyes. Then he turned his head to his mistress and looked at her. Though he never spoke, he seemed to ask her some question, for after a moment she nodded and looked away.

  With his hand still in mine, the warden went down on one knee. .

  "Your servant, sir," he said quietly. And then, "I am very grateful, sir. I cannot say more. But I beg that you will be careful. My son will not rest in his grave if you come to hurt."

  Then he rose and turned to his mistress, and when she had smiled and nodded, he bowed to her and to me and left the room.

  As the door closed behind tum:

  "He shouldn't have knelt," said I. Helena shrugged her shoulders.

  "That's his affair. But please tell no one he did so. You and he and I know, and that's enough."

  Upon a sudden impulse I put out my hand for hers. She gave it me gravely enough. Then I went down on one knee and put the cool, slight fingers up to my lips.

  As she caught her breath:

  "Your servant." I said quietly, "and you may tell whom you please."

  Chapter 7

  EIGHT hours had gone by, and I was sitting at Villach, in the driver's seat of the Rolls. My cousin was on the platform, but the car was berthed in the shadows, perhaps a hundred yards from the station's door.

  The train from Salzburg steamed out. As its rumble faded I saw a flash from a lamp, and thirty seconds later I drew up beside the pavement where Geoffrey and Barley stood.

  Without a word being spoken our baggage was lifted aboard, and as Barley climbed in my cousin sat down by my side.

  "Let her go, John."

  Two minutes later the Rolls stole out of town.

  Ten miles on we pulled up by the side of the road.

  The night was perfect and all the winds were still. The heaven was one great hatchment flaunting in all its splendour that lovely
mystery of bearings we call the stars. The countryside was sleeping, and. but for a sentinel owl, we might have had the world to ourselves.

  I felt my cousin nudge me. Then he lifted his voice.

  "Anything to report, Barley?"

  The answer came pat. Geoffrey had previously told Barley to say that he had seen Pharaoh at Salzburg so that we should go to Salzburg and thereby avoid meeting the gang.

  "No, sir. Nothing at all."

  My cousin sat very still. Then he slewed himself round in his seat.

  "That's strange," he said. "I’d half an idea that you might perhaps have seen someone— someone you thought you knew."

  "No sir," said Barley firmly. "No one "

  "Look here," said Geoffrey, "before you left—"

  A desperate voice cut him short.

  "Could I see you alone, sir, a moment?"

  "You can speak the truth here and now. Mr. Spencer isn't going. We're all three going to stay."

  "Very good, sir. Then I seen Pharaoh. And Dewdrop beside. I’ll swear it was them. In Salzburg this afternoon. Come out of the station, they did as I walked in."

  If Barley's news had given us something to go on. it pointed the wisdom of acting without delay. This for two very good reasons. In the first place, Salzburg for Pharaoh was dangerous ground, for anyone moving in Salzburg must plainly be under the hand of the Salzburg police: if, therefore, we could find him and then arouse suspicion sufficient to have him detained, although he might put up a fight, his race was as good as run. Secondly, it seemed pretty certain that Pharaoh had split his force and that Rush and Bugle were yet in the countryside; and that meant that if we could find them, we should only have two men to deal with, and those very ordinary thieves.

  I will not set out our discussion of these very obvious points, for fully three hours had gone by before with many misgivings our plans were laid. This may seem something foolish, but it must be remembered that we had a great deal at stake, and the fear of abusing a chance which might not return continually haunted our efforts to make up our minds. In the end, however, we came to certain decisions and since we stuck to these. I will say what they were.

  Early the following morning Geoffrey and Barley and I were to visit "The Reaping Hook": that Bugle and Rush would be gone we had no doubt, but we had some hope of tracing the damaged car. If this should lead us up to the men we sought we should at once give battle and do our best to lay the two by the heels; but unless by midday we had picked up some definite clue, then Geoffrey and Barley would leave for Salzburg by train, while I remained at Plumage, lying low during the daytime and patrolling the roads about Yorick from dusk to dawn.

  "And I give you my word," said Geoffrey, "if only you'll mind your step I think you're more likely to get there than Barley and I. We've got to search a city, and we don't know where to begin, for until we've placed our men it would be asking for trouble to go to the police. But your field is much more narrow. In the first place, Yorick's a loadstone, and Bugle and Rush will naturally turn that way; then, again, to get to Yorick they'll have to make use of a car, but they won't drive any nearer than the edge of the Yorick estate; thirdly, you've got a car, too that's a great deal more swift and more silent than anything they can produce But you simply must watch your step. You're out to get information, not to attack If you find them you must not strike; lie low and see them home, and then drive all out for Salzburg and Barley and me Will you give me your word to do that? And always to be back at Plumage before it's light?"

  I gave him my solemn word, but I knew in my heart that he would never have left me if he had thought it likely that I should find Bugle and Rush, and that, though he disliked the idea of my working alone, he was doing his best to choose the lesser evil and to keep me away from Pharaoh at any price. And there you have Geoffrey Bohun He was a famous painter and I was an unknown boy; but the unknown boy was his ward and because of that he must cover me with his body and. if occasion arose, must offer his life for mine. He had done it at Annabel; and now he was going to Salzburg to do it again. Still, to argue would have been useless; besides, it was perfectly clear that someone must stay at Plumage for Helena's sake; and since Geoffrey was far better fitted to deal with the police of Salzburg— to say nothing of "combing" a city with which he was familiar, which I hardly knew— and since, to be honest, to be out of touch with Helena would have worried me out of my life, I accepted the plan without a murmur and silently made up my mind by hook or by crook to run my two men to earth; for then, as I saw it, we had only to pick our position and sit down and wait, because, sooner or later, Pharaoh would come to join them, and the lour would be at our mercy for what that was worth.

  Thanks to my lady's foresight, we could now send word to Yorick without any waste of time, and before we left the next morning our groom was on his way to the castle. bearing a note from my cousin in which he had set out our plan As the fellow swung into the greenwood. I drove the Rolls off the apron and turned to go down to the bridge

  It was barely eight o'clock when we ran into Annabel.

  By Geoffrey's direction I stopped the car at cross roads cut of sight of "The Reaping Hook"; then he and Barley descended and walked as far as the forge which was walling one side of the forecourt that graced the inn; and there Geoffrey stood by the corner while Barley walked up to the house

  As luck would have it, a servant was washing the steps and a word from Barley brought him to Geoffrey's side.

  Then my cousin turned and waved, and I brought up the Rolls, for, as we had fully expected the birds were flown. One minute later we were speaking to the host and his wife.

  Now we had had no doubt that the moment we mentioned their late undesirable guests the two would be only too ready to talk themselves hoarse; but we were not prepared for the spate of incoherence which our casual inquiry unloosed. The two were simply bursting to vent such a volume of grievance as I can only compare to the burden of Christian's sins: and we, so to speak, had opened the safety-valve. Interrupt them we could not, for they had no ears to hear; but they raved and shrilled and wept, like a couple of lunatics, now contradicting each other, now bearing each other out, now calling each other to witness and now disputing fiercely some wholly irrelevant fact, but generally outbidding each other in their efforts to record the failings which Pharaoh and his brethren had betrayed. Since we were there to listen, there was clearly nothing to do but let the storm blow itself out, and when we had heard them in silence for what seemed a quarter of an hour and had inspected the spots at which violence had been committed or damage done, we ventured to put the questions which we had come to ask.

  The strangers were gone. What was the order of their going, and what had become of their car?

  Our words might have been a spell.

  I have never seen human beings so suddenly change their tune. As though we had turned some tap, the fountain of talk stopped dead; all their excitement died an immediate death, and the two became as crafty and sullen as though we had come to trap them and do them some evil turn.

  They had seen nothing at all. One minute the strangers were there, and the next they were gone. They had not seen them go; they knew nothing of any car; when we spoke of its being disabled, they glanced at one another and shook their heads.

  "Scared stiff." said Geoffrey shortly, and went off to probe the servants— to no avail.

  And here for the first time, I think. I felt an admiration for Pharaoh against my will. I do not know how he had spoken or what were the threats he used; but, though he was gone, he had left a fear behind him which nothing we could do could resolve. Though they would, I believe, have abused him until the sun went down, not one word would these people breathe which might help us in our quest. We had used them well, and Pharaoh had used them ill. But not all our kindness could open the mouths which Pharaoh had shut.

  In silence we returned to the Rolls.

  As we took our seats:

  "One to Pharaoh," said Geoffrey. "I admit they're a shade Boe
otian, but I'm damned if I could have muzzled them half so tight. And now for Plumage and Villach. At least, this means we can catch an earlier train."

  Four hours later I bade my cousin farewell.

  "I trust you," he said, "to play the part of Odysseus, and not the part of a fool. Carry that pistol by night and never put down the catch unless and until you've made up your mind to fire. And the torch in your other pocket. Don't use the torch without thinking: its light may be convenient, but it's apt to give you away. Wire me each morning from Yorick, and don't try and do without sleep— this air's too strong. And If you should light on our friends, for the love of heaven don't rush it. A waiting game isn't easy, but the fellow that plays it best will always win. And now you get back to Plumage. If on the way you should see a car you suspect, show them the way to shift, but on no account go straight home. I needn't stress the importance of keeping our quarters hid."

  I made my way back to the car, where Barley was playing watchman till I should come. As I took my seat:

  "Goodbye and good luck, Barley."

  "The same to you, sir, I'm sure."

  "Don't let Mr. Bohun get hurt. He talks about me. but he doesn't know what fear is. If you'd seen him at Annabel... "

  Barley sucked in his breath.

  "I wish I 'ad," he said grimly. "There'd 'ave been one less of them thieves."

  HELENA glanced at her wrist and folded the map.

  We were sitting by the water at Plumage, and had been for half an hour, for when I got back from saying goodbye to Geoffrey, a note from my lady was waiting to say that I might expect her at five o'clock.

  "Do you think you can find your way?"

  "I think so," said I.

  "By night, without lights, upon roads that you've never seen?"