“What picture?” asked Robert.
“The one of the men riding up through the wood in Lady Alicia’s room.”
“Oh yes,” said Robert vaguely and Timothy wondered if he had even noticed the picture, for they didn’t often notice the same things, Robert noticing useful things like saws and hammers and food and Timothy noticing pictures and birds flying and the patterns the clouds made in the sky. Then Robert brightened and said, “Weren’t there horses in the picture?”
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“Yes,” said Timothy, “and men with birds on their wrists, birds like the one in the churchyard you said was a falcon. They were riding up through a wood to a sort of city in the sky.” He stopped suddenly. “Look! There it is!”
Even Robert stood still and gazed in wonderment while Absolom once more seized the opportunity to sit down. Far up above them at the end of the invisible track there was a break in the dark trees. They could see where the wood ended and above it towered the shining silver sky. The city was built in the sky and that too leapt up and up, one steep gray roof climbing above another, with almost invisible silver towers rising at the summit and losing themselves in the silver of the sky. And then it seemed to fade and dissolve and then to reappear and it was the same and yet different.
“It’s only the rocks on top of Lion Tor,” said Robert.
“So it is,” said Timothy, but again he was not disappointed, because nothing could have been more beautiful than what they were seeing, the wonderful mass of gray rock with towers of white cloud behind it, all built up against the silver sky. The sun was coming out, and over clouds and rocks and sky was a veiled sparkle of light that made them seem very far away. And below was the darkness of the silent woods. Without a word, and with their eyes on the beckoning city above them, they began to climb quickly up the invisible road.
Suddenly Robert gave a shout. “Look out!” he yelled. But he was just too late. Timothy, who was ahead of
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him, had crashed into a hidden ditch and instantly Robert, who was wonderfully good at doing the practical thing on the instant, flung himself on his face, pushed his arm down through the brambles and ferns that hid the ditch and grabbed Timothy by the back of his jersey. Then he thrust the other arm down and got both hands under Timothy’s armpits and heaved mightily. Absolom was no help for he had dashed away into the wood growling and barking, but Timothy kept his head and in a moment or two Robert had dragged him up. They rolled over together, their jerseys torn and their faces scratched and bleeding.
They lay panting for a moment and then sat up and had a good look at the booby trap, for that was what it was. The ditch was only the bed of some stream that had now dried up but it was deep and there were some uncomfortably sharp stones down at the bottom. It was damp at the bottom too, and there seemed slimy things down there, worms and toads. The nasty thing about it was that it had been hidden by a mass of loose bramble and fern spread across it on light branches broken from the trees. Some man or men had deliberately hidden the ditch. And only a short while ago, because the ferns and the leaves on the branches were green and fresh.
“Where’s Absolom?” asked Robert.
“I don’t know,” said Timothy. “But I heard him growling and barking.”
They called and presently Absolom came back, still
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very angry and with his hackles up, and he too was bleeding and torn. But not by brambles. It looked as though his ears and his face had been scratched by sharp claws. It was all very odd but one thing was clear.
“Someone doesn’t want us to climb up to the top of the tor,” said Timothy.
“Then we’re going,” said Robert. “I suppose they thought we’d be frightened by falling into the booby trap. We’ll show them we’re not.”
“But how do we get over it?” asked Timothy.
“We jump,” said Robert.
Timothy’s heart missed a beat because though Robert might be able to jump that far he very much doubted if he could. But he would rather fall into the booby trap again than let Robert think he was afraid. “Come on,” he said.
“It’s the castle moat,” said Robert, who had suddenly become an invading Norman knight before the besieged castle. “Who’s for the drawbridge?”
“Swords,” said Timothy, suddenly remembering what Nan had said about the rowan branches. “We need swords!”
He ran back into the wood where he had seen a rowan tree and broke off two flowering branches, and he picked a twig of rowan and twisted it into Absolom’s collar. “Now!” he said. They went back a bit, brandished their swords, ran and jumped, and just at the most terrifying moment of the leap, when Timothy was quite
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sure he would never do it, he saw three bees revolving in a patch of silver light on the other side. He leapt toward them, aware of Absolom leaping beside him with ears streaming out like banners and Robert shouting, and then they were all three lying in a heap together on the far side.
They picked themselves up and went on triumphantly and gradually they climbed right up above the tops of the trees, and as they came out of the wood the sun broke through and they were dazzled by its light. Then they began to run over the short springy turf, and jump over the tufts of heather, and sing and shout, for only so could they express their joy in this high cool place full of wind and space and light. Then they dropped breathless on the heather.
All about them were the rolling spaces of the high moor, the rough grass full of the small flowers that grow on the heights, patched here and there with fern, heather and gorse. It was like the sea and the shadows of the clouds passed over it as they do over the sea, and islands of rock came up out of the green waves. Sheep were cropping the turf and larks were singing overhead. When presently they stood up again they could see for miles. Quite close to them the ground sloped up to the great mass of rock that was the summit of Lion Tor, and at a little distance it fell away to a lower pile of rocks among stunted trees that seemed growing on the edge of a precipice.
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“That’s the Lion’s head,” said Robert. “We’re looking at it from behind.”
“There’s breath coming out of it,” said Timothy. “You can see the Lion’s breath!” The faint curl of whiteness rose in the air as human breath does on a frosty day. Robert could not see it at first and when he did he had a practical explanation. “It’s only smoke,” he said. “There are people having a picnic there and they’ve lit a fire to boil the kettle. And perhaps they’re cooking potatoes in the embers.” He paused. “I feel awfully hungry,” he added.
Timothy, who had sensitive feelings, was quick to interrupt Robert’s train of thought. “You can’t barge in on picnic people you don’t know and ask for food,” he said. “What about the besieged city? There may still be some food inside. There is a king inside the city, I know there is, and he will give us food. Come on!”
Robert caught fire again and brandishing their swords and shouting, Absolom racing after them, they stormed up the green slope toward the city. As they ran they could see clearly the battlements and the archers at their stations and hear their answering yells of defiance. Soon they were scaling the walls, climbing up and up, panting and excited. Then Robert dropped his rowan branch and was too thrilled to notice what he had done. “Pick up your sword!” cried Timothy below him. Robert stopped and picked it up and was aware again that they were climbing not walls but rocks, with
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here and there ledges of turf like miniature flower gardens sweet with thyme and thrift and yellow bed- straw.
“There’s a cave up there/’ said Robert. “Perhaps that’s where the king is.” It was above them, a little to the right. Most of the entrance was hidden behind an outcrop of rock, but they could see the upper
part of it and like all half-hidden things it was exciting. It was also frightening.
“We’ll have to go around the rock to get to the cave,” said Timothy. “And we can’t see what’s behind it. Stop, Robert!”
But Robert was already halfway to the cave and Timothy scrambled after him and Absolom after Timothy. They were under the rock, and with a few steps more Robert would have been around it, when Absolom growled.
And then suddenly it all happened. A vast and horrible black shape leapt to the top of the rock from the other side and around the corner bounded a big redfaced giant brandishing a knobbly stick over his head, his teeth flashing in his big black beard, and at his heels ran a bulldog the size of a calf, growling and snarling. There was no time to be terrified, no time to think what to do, and Robert, Timothy and Absolom acted by instinct only. Robert struck his branch of rowan straight in the man’s face and Timothy hit out with his at the black shape, while Absolom, in the most superb action of his life, leapt for the bulldog’s throat
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and held on. Then he abruptly let go again, bounding in the wake of Robert and Timothy as they turned and fled.
“The picnickers!” gasped Robert and Timothy nodded.
The picnickers would help them. Down and down they ran, somehow keeping their feet on the rocks and slippery turf, and behind them the noise of the pursuit, the shouts and growls and yowls, sounded very near. Then they were down below the tor and running like the wind for the wisp of smoke rising from the rocks and stunted trees below them. They ran and ran but the pursuit, they knew, was gaining on them. “Rowan trees!” gasped Timothy. “Rowan trees among the rocks!” They could see the white blossoms below them and they could also see something rising from the trees and coming toward them. A sort of cloud. A cloud of bees. The cloud sailed over their heads and away behind them and they were nearly there.
They were there. They leapt in among the rowan trees and fell behind a great rock, the three of them together in a heap, far too breathless to run any more but aware of safety. And also of howls of distress dying away in the distance.
As soon as they had got their breath they crept out and looked back through the sheltering branches. A man, a bulldog, both of normal size but still very large, and a poor little black cat were running for their
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lives in the midst of the swarm of bees, and to judge from their cries being stung as they ran.
“Poor things!” said Timothy.
“They’re not poor things,” said Robert. “They may go in and out like concertinas but whatever size they are they’re wicked and deserve to be stung. Let’s find the picnickers.”
They found the smoke but it wasn’t coming from a fire, it was coming from down in the earth, eddying up through a circle of piled stones.
“Look out!” said Robert. “It’s a volcano!”
“It can’t be active,” said Timothy, “because of all the green ferns and the rowan trees. It’s just smoldering.” He looked at the stones and considered them. “That’s a chimney. So this must be a roof. It’s the top of the Lion’s head and it’s a roof. Let’s see if there are any more chimneys.”
They looked among the trees and rocks and ferns and presently Robert gave a shout and Timothy and Absolom joined him. Well hidden in a clump of rowans there was another hole, not a chimney this time but a slanting rocky tunnel like a ladder down into the dark.
“Let’s go down,” said Timothy.
“We don’t know what’s waiting for us at the bottom,” said Robert. “Remember what happened when we tried to get into that other cave.”
“Whatever is down at the bottom it won’t be bad,” said Timothy.
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“Why not?” asked Robert.
“Because the bees came from here and because of all these rowan trees.” He looked at Robert. “Do you want to go back the way we came?” he asked. “They will be waiting for us in the wood by that ditch that we had to jump over.”
“They’ll go home to have their stings attended to,” said Robert.
“If they do,” said Timothy, “William Lawson and his dog and Frederick aren’t the only ones. There’s still Emma Cobley and Tom Biddle and Eliza Lawson. And we don’t know how many others are in the wood and coming here after us. ”
“We’ll go down,” said Robert, adding with courage, “I’ll go first.” He took Absolom under one arm and they went down carefully, feeling with their feet for each new foothold. Robert was not as sure as Timothy that this was a good place and at any moment he expected to feel his ankles gripped by a horrible hairy hand. But they were not and presently he said to Timothy, “I’ve got my feet on the rungs of a real ladder.” After that it was easy going. They were soon at the bottom and lifting the curtain of hide, they stepped out into Daft Davie’s cave.
He was not there. They looked around with beating hearts and then went outside and ran down the steps and found the workbench, and went a little way
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down the valley, and looked back and saw the Lion’s splendid head and his extended paws, and they knew that the whole place was very good.
“We were in the Lion’s mouth,” said Timothy excitedly. “Right inside!”
“Let’s go back,” said Robert, and they raced back up the steps and explored the cave afresh. They found the bed of bracken this time, the pots and pans beside the fire and the bowls of apples and nuts. They walked around the walls pointing out the birds and beasts to each other and then they found the picture of the horsemen in the wood and looked at it for a long time.
“It’s Lady Alicia’s picture,” said Timothy.
“Is it?” said Robert.
“Yes,” insisted Timothy. “Not exactly but like it.”
“I wonder who lives here,” said Robert, suddenly losing interest in the picture. “Do you think he’d mind if we ate his apples?”
“No, he wouldn’t mind,” said Timothy. “Whoever he is, he’s good.”
They ate the apples and they were so hungry that they did not notice how hard and dry they were. And they found a pitcher of water and had a drink and they poured some water into a bowl and Absolom had a drink too, and then Timothy said, “I’m awfully tired.”
Robert remembered that Timothy was supposed not to be strong. “Lie down on the bed,” he suggested.
So Timothy curled up on the springy bracken and
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he looked so comfortable that presently Robert began to yawn and lay down beside him. And then Absolom jumped up on top of them and curled himself around in the comfortable V shape behind Robert’s bent knee, and in five minutes they were all three deeply asleep.
Robert woke up first and saw that the moon was shining through the cave’s mouth and making a pool of silver on the floor. He gazed at it stupidly for a few minutes and then he sat up and shook Timothy and Absolom awake. “Wake up!” he said. “It’s night.” Timothy sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “So it is,” he said with awe. “Is it midnight?”
“It might be,” said Robert.
“They’ll be anxious at home,” said Timothy.
“We must get home quick,” said Robert.
Timothy looked piteous and Robert knew that he was thinking not so much of enemies as of the long walk over the tor and down through the wood in the dark. “We’ll go down that little valley,” he said. “There must be a way out at the bottom and perhaps it will be a quick way home.”
They ran down the steps and down the valley. It was almost as bright as day, for all the clouds had cleared away now and in the month of June, daylight lingers long enough to make love to the moonlight. When they reached the precipice they paused, wondering which of the Lion’s paws they should climb over. The one to the right looked brambly and difficult and
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the one to the left easy as a flight of steps. “That’s the way,” said Robert and they climbed over and found themselves on the path up which Nan had climbed. They went down a little way and then Absolom growled and Timothy, who was in front, stopped and said, “Look!”
Down below them a terrifying figure was climbing slowly up the path. He looked very big but he wasn’t the black-bearded giant who had pursued them on the hill above. He looked all white like a ghost and he seemed hunchbacked. He raised his head and they saw his terrible white face with great pits for eyes. He saw them and leapt upward, making extraordinary noises. How could they know that it was much earlier in the evening than they thought it was, and this was only Daft Davie coming home, his head and beard blanched by the moonlight and his clothes whitened by the sack of flour he carried on his shoulders? They had never heard of Daft Davie and they fled back in terror over the Lion’s paw, jumped across the stream and ran across the little valley and up over the other paw, fighting their way through the thick brambles. Then they plunged down into the wood on the other side, where they struggled on and on through the undergrowth until at last they all three dropped down out of breath in a ferny dell. They listened but there was no sound.
“But a ghost wouldn’t make a sound,” said Timothy.
“Where are the rowan branches?” asked Robert.
“We left them behind in the cave,” said Timothy.
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“Then we’ve lost our swords,” said Robert. “And we don’t know where we are or which way to turn to get home.”
“Listen!” said Timothy.
“I can’t hear anything,” said Robert.
“I can,” said Timothy, and he listened intently. He could only just hear it, unearthly and far away, music like a bird, but not a bird. Absolom listened too, his head on one side, his ears cocked, the tip of his feathery tail trembling. Though the music was so faint it was irresistible and Timothy and Absolom did not try to resist it. They ran after it, Absolom going first but Timothy not far behind him. Robert could hear nothing and he thought they must have gone crazy but he followed them, and though the way may have been long it did not seem so. They felt no fatigue while they followed and they trod lightly; even Robert, who did not hear what Timothy and Absolom heard. But it was Robert who realized first that they had come back to familiar ground.