The Song of Seven

  Count Grisenstein could have easily sent his coach to fetch me, thought Frans. After all, that was the agreement! So it seems he’s not too happy with Manus’s skills as a coachman…

  As he approached the metal gate at the rear of the estate, he saw two men standing there. Manus was inside the fence and Jan Tooreloor was outside; they were looking at each other through the bars and seemed to be having a difference of opinion.

  “Just clear off, will you!” Manus snapped.

  “I’m on the public high-way,” said Jan Tooreloor loudly and solemnly. “This is a free country and I can stand here if I want to, even if I want to stay here all day.”

  Frans got off his bike, but neither of the men paid any attention to him.

  “You’re just lurking around and peeking through the gate,” growled Manus.

  “I’m standing and looking,” the sacked coachman corrected him. “No one can order me to close my eyes.”

  “And no one can order me to open the gate,” said Manus angrily. Then he saw Frans and forced his face into a friendlier expression – which didn’t make him look any better.

  “Ah, but you’ll have to open the gate for him!” said Jan Tooreloor with a smirk. He gave Frans a slap on the shoulder and added, “Cheer up, Manus, you’ve no need to worry about me sneaking in. I’m not setting foot on that cursed land; I just want to keep an eye on it. Strange things happen there, you know!”

  Manus pursed his lips. Slowly and hesitantly, he opened the gate.

  “You see! You let him in!” Jan Tooreloor cried cheerfully. “But he’s more dangerous than I am! He goes around with loaded pistols. There, now that’s taken you by surprise, hasn’t it?”

  Manus gave Frans a rather alarmed and suspicious look. He didn’t say anything though, but just let Frans through.

  Jan Tooreloor walked away, striding through the puddles with large steps.

  The count’s soon going to start getting suspicious, thought Frans. And he wondered what kind of reception he would have at the House of Stairs.

  Berend, dressed as a butler, opened the door, took Frans’s wet coat and accompanied him to the library. Geert-Jan was sitting obediently at the table; it seemed that this afternoon would pass very normally. Frans said hello and was about to launch straight into his lessons, but Geert-Jan looked eagerly at him and asked if there was any news.

  “The children in my class send their best wishes,” said Frans. He didn’t tell him yet that he’d brought along a thick envelope full of letters; he was concerned that he wouldn’t be able to get his student to start work at all if he did. It was already difficult enough. The boy seized every opportunity to stray from the subject he was supposed to be concentrating on.

  “Geert-Jan,” said Frans after a while, “I don’t think you’re being very fair! On Wednesday I helped you to look for the treasure, and today I’m here to teach you something. There’s a time for everything, and you must aim to do everything equally well.”

  Geert-Jan nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, “you’re right. I haven’t behaved nobly.”

  “Noblesse oblige,” said Frans.

  “What’s that mean?” asked Geert-Jan.

  “It’s an expression. It’s from France,” replied his tutor.

  “Frans the Red?” asked Geert-Jan.

  “No. And we’re studying grammar now, not French,” said Frans. “Analyse this sentence again.”

  Geert-Jan did as he was told. For an hour, they worked very hard, and the mood was pleasant.

  Then Count Grisenstein entered through the hidden door. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?” he said with a smile. “I’ll just go and sit over there in the corner and keep quiet.”

  Geert-Jan frowned, so Frans gave his student a stern look. Then they went on with their work, but the pleasant atmosphere was gone.

  Geert-Jan kept peeking at his uncle, who was silently leafing through a book. He did his best to be cheeky and unpleasant again, although he seemed to find it more difficult now. He clearly didn’t want the count to realize he’d made friends with his tutor. Frans could understand that, and he was torn between sympathy and irritation. This was a situation that called for tact and wisdom!

  The count hardly seemed to be paying any attention to them, and his face was an inscrutable mask. Yet Frans felt as if he really were a secret agent now, right in the middle of the enemy camp.

  An hour later, Manus came in with the tea tray. He didn’t say a word, but there was a gleam of triumph on his face.

  “I believe,” said the count, “that it’s time for a little refreshment for body and mind.”

  Manus put down the tray and disappeared silently. Geert-Jan stuck out his tongue behind the servant’s back.

  “And are you making progress, Geert-Jan?” asked the count, when they were drinking tea. “Do you have any lines to write this time?”

  “I don’t know yet, Uncle Gradus,” replied the boy. “The afternoon’s not over yet.”

  “Well, I think Mr Van der Steg will be leaving soon,” said the count. “He may well have a social engagement on a Saturday evening.”

  “Aren’t you staying tonight?” asked Geert-Jan, turning to Frans.

  “Mr Van der Steg can’t devote all his time to you,” said the count before Frans could reply.

  “He stayed last week,” said Geert-Jan, trying to hide his disappointment.

  “My dear boy, you don’t want to work on Sunday, do you?” said the count. He looked at his nephew with a smile, but his eyes were cold as ice.

  “I thought it might be nice for me to have some company,” said Geert-Jan smoothly.

  “I’ve had an idea,” said Frans. “Maybe you and I could go out together tomorrow morning to… to look for fungi.”

  “Fungi?” repeated the count, raising his eyebrows. “Out? In this weather?”

  “As long as it’s dry, of course,” said Frans quickly. “At this time of year, there are always lots of mushrooms and toadstools after a rainy day like today. One of the subjects I’m teaching your nephew is natural history.”

  “It’s very kind of you to give up your free time,” said the count. “But there’s really no need for you to come in on Sunday.”

  “I’d be happy to,” said Frans amiably. “You have to take the opportunity while it’s there. If we want to study mushrooms, we’ll need to do it tomorrow.”

  “That’s fine by me,” said the count. Frans was certain though that the count didn’t think it was fine at all, particularly when he added, “But only if the weather’s good.”

  Geert-Jan took a worried look out of the window and Frans said, “Just as long as it doesn’t rain. Your nephew can wrap up warm.”

  “My nephew needs to think of his health,” said the count with a sickly sweet smile. “And if his tutor doesn’t pay attention to his wellbeing, then I shall have to.” He rose from his chair and concluded, “We’ll see you tomorrow, then, Mr Van der Steg, wind and weather permitting.”

  Both Frans and Geert-Jan breathed a sigh of relief when he’d left the library.

  “What if it rains?” whispered the boy.

  “I’ll come anyway,” said Frans firmly. “Even if it’s raining, it could always dry up later, eh?”

  “We have to be very careful, sir,” said Geert-Jan. “The Fiendish Foe probably already suspects that you’re my ally. He didn’t even ask you to stay for dinner! But you’ll have to sleep over again next week. I’ll invite you.”

  “You’re not in charge here, Geert-Jan,” said Frans quietly.

  “But I’m still inviting you,” said the boy. “And it’s my birthday a week tomorrow, so Uncle Gradus won’t be able to say no.” Thoughtfully, he continued, “When I’m eleven, I’ll only have another seven years to search for the treasure…”

  “Oh, that’s long enough!” said Frans. Then he remembered that not one single child in the past few centuries had ever been able to find the treasure, and he thought anxiously, What will happen if that wretched ebony chest c
an’t be found? Imagine if the boy remains locked up in the House of Stairs for another seven years…

  “It’d be nice if I could find it within the next year,” said Geert-Jan. And then he asked, “What do you do when it’s someone’s birthday in your class?”

  “I draw a flag on the blackboard,” replied Frans, “and we all sing a birthday song.”

  “Hmm. So it’s all a bit childish, then,” said Geert-Jan. “And what do you do if someone’s birthday falls on a Sunday?”

  “Then we celebrate it on the Monday,” said Frans.

  “I’d like to celebrate my birthday too,” said Geert-Jan. “With a real party, I mean. But I’m sure Uncle Gradus wouldn’t approve…”

  “Well, I’ll come round to wish you happy birthday anyway,” promised Frans. “But now I have a little something for you…” As he glanced over at the hidden door, he tutted at himself, as he realized that he’d begun to fear spies everywhere too. Then he took the large yellow envelope from his bag and said, “There are some letters in here for you – from all the children in my class.”

  Geert-Jan blushed. “Thank you,” he said, taking the envelope. “I’ll read them tonight, when I’m alone in bed.”

  “But don’t go to sleep too late,” Frans advised him. “You need to watch your health, don’t forget.”

  The next day it was raining, but Frans kept his promise and went anyway, armed with an old box for collecting botanical specimens, which he’d found in Aunt Wilhelmina’s attic. And he was in luck, because just as Berend, now wearing his game-keeper’s uniform, opened the gate, it stopped raining, and as

  Frans reached the House of Stairs, a watery sun emerged. Frans was about to head up the stairs to the front door, but a shrill voice stopped him in his tracks. Manus appeared around the corner of the building, waving his arms and shouting breathlessly, “Sir, Mr Tutor, sir! H-help me, please!”

  Frans walked over to him. “Whatever’s wrong?” he asked.

  “It’s that wretched boy!” said Manus. He looked a little green about the gills. “He won’t come down. It’s not my fault if he falls to his death.”

  Frans gasped. “Where is he?” he asked in a sharp tone, and he followed Manus at a run.

  At the side of the house, by the foot of a metal fire escape, they stopped and looked up. Geert-Jan had climbed the ladder, and had then shinned further up a drainpipe; he sat dangling his legs on a ledge, a good thirty feet above the ground. When he saw Frans, he leant forward and called out cheerfully, “Hello, sir! Why don’t you come up and join me?”

  “I’ve got a better idea! Why don’t you come down?” Frans called back. “You won’t find any mushrooms growing up on the roof.”

  “I already have, sir!” Geert-Jan called down, as he got to his feet. “There are mushrooms on this wall, some very fine ones!”

  Frans was terribly afraid that he was about to see the boy come tumbling down. “Please! Sit down!” he ordered, as calmly as possible.

  “I’ll go and tell the count,” said Manus beside him. “The boy’s risking his life.”

  “Just wait a moment,” said Frans angrily. “I’m sure he’ll come down soon.”

  But Geert-Jan didn’t seem at all interested in coming back down. He was still standing up there on the ledge and examining the wall above.

  “Geert-Jan!” Frans shouted furiously. “Come down here. This instant!”

  He dropped his specimen box on the ground and climbed up the fire escape after Geert-Jan. Soon he was up at the top, but Geert-Jan was still some way higher, and Frans knew he didn’t dare to climb the drainpipe.

  The boy turned to look at him now. “You don’t need to climb up the drainpipe,” he said, apparently reading his mind. “You’re much taller than me. If you stand on the railing there, you can easily pull yourself up onto the ledge, and reach me that way.”

  “Not a chance,” said Frans angrily. “Come down. I’ll catch you.”

  “But I’m not scared of heights,” said Geert-Jan, leaning perilously far forward to him. “Come on, sir,” he went on quickly, so that Manus couldn’t hear him. “There are all these loose bricks in the wall here, and there’s a little alcove too…”

  I wish, thought Frans, that I’d never come here… It wasn’t just because he was scared of heights; he really was concerned about Geert-Jan’s safety.

  “Is he too scared to come back down?” Manus called from below.

  Geert-Jan’s face lit up. That was a good idea!

  “Oh nooo!” he cried out, pretending to be frightened. “I’m so scared. I’m too scared to climb back down. Help me!” As he spoke, he looked at Frans with an amused glint in his eyes.

  “Can you manage, Mr Tutor?” called Manus. It didn’t look as if he was planning to venture up there to join them. “Or should I go for help?” he added.

  “No,” replied Frans. “You’d better stay there and catch us if we fall.”

  “Help!” wailed Geert-Jan.

  Frans gritted his teeth, climbed up onto the railing, and took hold of the ledge. He closed his eyes and pulled himself up…

  A few endless moments later, he was sitting next to Geert-Jan; the boy took hold of his arm and whispered, “Well done, sir!”

  Frans carefully found a more comfortable position, wondering how long the ledge would take the weight of the two of them.

  “We’ll have to examine the wall quickly,” whispered Geert-Jan. “There really are mushrooms growing on it, sir. And there could easily be a secret hiding place up here. You have to help me. You promised!”

  “Fine,” said Frans in an icily calm voice. “I’m up here now anyway, and I’ll look at your wall. But I’ll promise you one more thing: when we get down I’m going to give you such a hiding that you won’t be able to sit down for three days.”

  When Frans said it, he really meant it. But when he was back down at ground level with Geert-Jan twenty minutes later, he’d changed his mind. He was just happy that they’d both survived in one piece, and he was more interested in stopping to catch his breath than giving anyone a hiding.

  Geert-Jan didn’t know that, of course; he could just see that his tutor still looked angry. “I knew I’d have to take risks,” he said a little uncertainly. “But it’s a shame to get it for nothing.”

  “To get what?” asked Frans.

  “The hiding you’re going to give me,” said Geert-Jan, taking a step back. “I wouldn’t have minded the punishment if we’d actually found the treasure, but…” He looked back over his shoulder. “Where’s Manus?”

  “He’s gone to tell your uncle,” said Frans sternly. “I’m sure he’ll be angry too.”

  “No, he won’t,” said Geert-Jan. “Uncle Gradus wants me to find the treasure, so he lets me climb wherever I want. He wouldn’t even care if I fell, as long as he already had his hands on the treasure.”

  “That’s enough!” said Frans, furiously interrupting him. “Your behaviour today has been disgraceful and you deserve to be punished.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Geert-Jan. “But please beat me now, before Manus gets back here with Uncle Gradus.”

  “Oh, it’s too late now,” Frans said with a sigh.

  “So you’re not going to do it?” whispered Geert-Jan. “Or do you mean you’re putting it off until later?”

  “I’m not going to do it,” said Frans. “Even though you deserve it.”

  “Better never than late,” said Geert-Jan with a sigh of relief.

  Now Frans was furious again. He put his hands on his hips and started yelling at his student. He did such a good job of it that he’d have silenced an entire class of troublemakers. Geert-Jan just gaped at his tutor.

  Suddenly Frans stopped, right in the middle of a sentence. “That’s enough,” he said, completely calm now. “I wish you hadn’t had Count Gregorius as an ancestor – he’s to blame for all this misery. Come on, let’s go.”

  “Really?” said Geert-Jan, his voice trembling a little. “Oh, look out!” he adde
d. “Here they come.”

  Count Grisenstein strode towards them, with Manus following at a distance.

  “Is there some problem?” asked the count. “I understand my nephew wanted to inspect the wall up there.”

  “Yes,” said Frans. “But he’s safely down again now, as you can see.”

  “Obviously,” said the count coldly. “All Grisensteins are excellent climbers.” Then, in a suspicious voice, he added, “The question is, though: what exactly was he looking for up there?”

  “Oh, you know, fancies and fabrications,” replied Frans in the same tone.

  “Mr Van der Steg was really angry with me!” Geert-Jan chimed in. “He gave me such a hiding that I won’t be able to sit down for three days.”

  “Surely not!” exclaimed the count. Frans couldn’t quite tell if he was shocked, sceptical or pleased.

  Geert-Jan picked up the specimen box and said, “So are we still going to look for mushrooms, sir?”

  “Yes,” said the count, “you have to take the opportunity while it’s there, don’t you, Mr Van der Steg? Have your natural history lesson while the weather’s still dry. Please don’t stray outside the fence though, will you? And, Geert-Jan, mind you don’t get your feet wet.”

  He looks for mushrooms and finds them, but Ivan finds something else

  THIS IS THREE

  The sun was shining brightly now, although more rain-clouds were piling up in the distance. The woods around the House of Stairs were bronze green and golden brown. Some branches, though, were completely bare, with crows cawing away on them. Geert-Jan and his tutor walked slowly along the paths, searching for mushrooms and toadstools. They found plenty, in the shade, among the roots of the trees, and on the damp moss.

  Frans talked about spores and mycelium as if he were a professor of botany. Geert-Jan listened closely, even though he’d probably imagined this outing would be very different. He didn’t ask any questions that weren’t about mushrooms and he hunted eagerly for good specimens.