The Wind on the Moon (32 page)

He ordered the soldiers to search his new prisoners, and from Mr. Corvo they took his swordstick, his fountain-pen dagger, the Lord Chamberlain's keys, and all the money he had. But neither Dinah nor Dorinda had anything which they considered worth removing.

Then Count Hulagu felt them all, to see how fat they were, and laughed again, and said, ‘Esi zeers chum chum rithenn tavan glon, nemi sornireps!'

Putting the last of the peppermint creams into his mouth he left them abruptly, the soldiers followed him, and the door was locked.

‘Now,' said Mr. Corvo, ‘we are prisoners indeed, and I have lost my swordstick and my fountain-pen dagger. I never had a chance to use them.'

‘Father,' said Dorinda, ‘are there any mice in your dungeon?'

‘None,' he answered sadly.

‘That's a pity, because I brought a piece of cheese to tame them, and I've still got it.'

‘Where is the Puma?' asked Dinah.

The Puma, with eyes quicker than theirs, had seen the door beginning to open before they were aware of movement, and with a swift and silent leap had dropped through the hole in the floor into the lower dungeon.

Dinah found her lying on the outermost edge, where the wall had broken and the rock fell sheer. She was staring into the distant sky.

‘Are we prisoners again?' she asked without turning her head.

‘I'm afraid so.'

‘Have you a handkerchief? If so, come here and wave it.'

‘Why?' asked Dinah.

‘Do you see that mote in the sky? I think it is the Falcon. He cannot see me here, because we are in shadow, but he would see something white and moving.'

Dinah leaned out as far as she dared and waved her handkerchief. ‘I'm afraid it isn't very clean,' she said.

A few minutes later the Falcon, on his strong and easy wings, flew past the opening, then circled and came in. He listened gravely to their news, and asked, ‘What can I do to help?'

Dinah thought for a minute or two and said, ‘We haven't any money. Father has none, and they've taken away Mr. Corvo's pocket-book. So our only way of getting back to England, if we do escape, will be to go in one of the empty furniture vans. Mr. Corvo said they would be sent back to the firm that owns them.'

‘They are still in the outer courtyard,' said the Falcon. ‘Not all of them have been unloaded yet.'

‘They'll be taken back to the station and perhaps put on a siding somewhere,' said Dinah. ‘Could you keep watch on them, and let us know where they are?'

‘Very easily,' said the Falcon. ‘What else can I do?'

‘Come and share our company from time to time,' said the Puma. ‘It is a dull life to live in prison.'

‘I am sorry indeed for you,' said the Falcon, ‘but keep a good heart. To-morrow will bring new counsel and new hope.'

‘I wonder!' said Dinah, and suddenly she felt more wretched and despondent than ever before. How dismally all their scheming had failed! Their excitement, their confident expectation of rescuing their father, had been pricked like a balloon and now lay shapeless about them. Now they were all prisoners together, and what hope had they of escaping from this monstrous Castle, from the Tyrant Count Hulagu, and all his well-armed obedient soldiers? She felt her eyes grow hot and moist, her lips quiver, and total unhappiness possessed her. ‘But no!' she murmured. ‘No, I won't cry! I may be a prisoner for the rest of my life, but I
won't cry
! Because if Count Hulagu heard that I had been crying he would be very pleased, and I'm certainly not going to do anything to give him pleasure!'

She went back to the upper dungeon and sat down beside her father on the pile of sacking. Nobody spoke very much, and when darkness came they made themselves as comfortable as they could and tried to sleep. With only a blanket between them and the stone floor, Dinah and Dorinda spent a poor night, though the Puma made a good pillow for them. Fortunately the weather was still fairly warm, but from time to time the wind blew through the hole in the floor and made a noise like a banshee howling in the distance.

In the morning a soldier brought them a jug of pea-soup, a loaf of black bread, and a bucket of water.

‘What a horrible breakfast!' said Dinah.

‘It isn't breakfast only,' said Major Palfrey. ‘These are our rations for the whole day.'

‘Do you mean to say that we shan't get anything else till to-morrow?' asked Dorinda.

‘Nothing else.'

‘But I want a lot more, I'm hungry!' And suddenly running towards the soldier, Dorinda kicked him hard on the shin.

He was a big man with a fat red face, and being kicked on the shin did not anger him because he had a wooden leg. He spoke to Mr. Corvo in a thick country accent, explaining that he himself had a daughter very like Dorinda to look at. He had, indeed, seven daughters altogether, and five sons.

‘And would they,' asked Mr. Corvo, speaking in Bombast, ‘be satisfied with a little pea-soup for their breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper?'

‘No, of course not,' said the soldier, ‘they have enormous appetites.'

‘So have these,' said Mr. Corvo. ‘What else can you bring?'

The soldier went away, and presently returned with two currant buns.

‘Thank you very much,' said Mr. Corvo. ‘And now will you bring us some more blankets? We were cold last night.'

The soldier took off his helmet to scratch his head, and after a moment or two said, ‘Well, I'll see what I can do.'

‘We Bombards,' said Mr. Corvo when he had gone, ‘are not a cruel people. It is only that infamous Count Hulagu who makes my people behave so badly.'

Later in the day the soldier brought them three old horse-rugs. They were very dirty, but warm and thick.

Dorinda kicked him hard on the shin

‘Do you think,' asked Dinah, ‘that he would bring us some soap?'

But the soldier laughed at that. Soap, he said, was only for rich people, not for prisoners.

Two days later Count Hulagu came to see them again. He stayed for half an hour, eating peppermint creams all the time out of a bag that his aide-de-camp carried—his aide-de-camp was a tall young man with red hair and a squint—and felt them all to see if they had got any thinner. He made the same speech as he had made before, and then went away laughing loudly.

‘What did he say?' asked Dinah.

‘Just the same things,' said Mr. Corvo. ‘That he doesn't know who we are, and doesn't care. We are his prisoners, and that is enough for him. He likes to have prisoners, he collects prisoners, and the more he has the better he is pleased. That is all. He is a strange man, Count Hulagu.'

Day followed day, and every day was dull and miserable, every night cold and uncomfortable. They tormented themselves by trying to think of plans for escape, but nobody could invent any likely way of getting out of the dungeon, to say nothing of getting out of the Castle. Major Palfrey, though he enjoyed having company after living all alone, was more worried about his daughters' welfare than he had ever been about his own, and Dinah and Dorinda thought with bitter longing of home. Even Miss Serendip's dullest lessons now seemed, in comparison with the dungeon, to have given them hours of pure happiness. Mr. Corvo had lost all his high spirits when his swordstick was taken from him, and sat for most of the time with his head in his hands.

Every third day the red-faced soldier was on duty, and brought them a few currant buns, but on other days they had nothing but cold pea-soup and black bread and water. They were always hungry, and from day to day they grew visibly dirtier.

The Puma, for most of the time, lay on the outer edge of the lower cell looking at the great distances beyond and the deep view beneath. The Falcon came regularly to see her, and they sat and talked together in the way to which they had grown accustomed when both were captives in Sir Lankester Lemon's zoo. The Falcon, though he had the whole freedom of the sky, considered himself, because he was bound to them by friendship, almost as much a prisoner as the others, and grew sadder every day. He brought the news that the furniture vans, now unloaded, had been taken to the railway station and then to a lonely siding about five miles from Gliedermannheim, where they waited to be attached to a train that would take them back to England. But still nobody could think of any means to cross the long distance between their dungeon and the railway, so they listened to the Falcon's news without much interest.

Mr. Corvo tried to make friends with the soldiers who brought their rations, but none of the soldiers dared to help them.

Every second day or so Count Hulagu came to look at them, to feel their arms and their ribs to see how thin they were, and to laugh at them. Once he brought a photographer to take their photographs. He spent a lot of time arranging in big albums the photographs of all his prisoners and of the various people whom he ordered to be shot.

The nights began to grow colder, and rain fell nearly every day.

One day, when the Puma as usual was lying on the outermost edge of the lower dungeon, Dinah was about to go down the ladder to sit beside her when she saw her rise slightly and turn her head inwards. The hair on her neck rose bristling, and her lips parted to show her teeth in a half-snarl.

Dinah, from the upper dungeon, looked towards the corner at which the Puma was staring, and saw to her amazement a flagstone moving slightly in the lower floor. One side of it rose, perhaps, half an inch, and fell again. At the same moment she heard what might be—though she could not be sure—the faint and muffled sound of strange voices. Then, while she was wondering what to do, the flagstone rose again, and now its movement was easily visible. It rose on one side an inch or more, and fell back with a little thud. Now the Puma was on her feet and softly snarling.

‘Puma, Puma!' called Dinah in a fierce whisper. ‘Come here, come quickly!'

The Puma, with a backward glance, came swiftly up the ladder and lay flat beside Dinah, peering into the lower dungeon.

‘Father! Mr. Corvo! Dorinda!' whispered Dinah. ‘Be quiet and come here. Don't make a sound!'

They lay on the pavement, every one of them feeling their heart beating against the stone in wild excitement, and looked down through the hole in the floor. The flagstone rose again, six inches this time, and they heard a voice saying. ‘There she goes! Way-hay, and up she rises!'

‘He's speaking English!' muttered Major Palfrey. ‘Who can it be?'

Then the flagstone in the lower floor rose clear, and they could see two pairs of arms—lean, ancient, skinny arms—pushing it up. It balanced for a moment on one edge, and then fell backwards with a crash.

They heard a voice from the depths below—an aged, shrill, and crackly voice—say cheerfully, ‘And that's another obstacle overcome, Mr. Stevens! Another sap driven, another way made clear. God save the Queen, Mr. Stevens!'

‘God save the Queen, Notchy,' said another voice that was equally old, but deep and gruff. ‘
Ubique
is truly our motto, Notchy. We go everywhere!'

Then they heard the two aged voices laughing, and one of them began to sing a song in which the other joined. These were the words of it:

‘Good heavens!' said Major Palfrey. ‘It can't be true!'

‘Hush!' whispered Dinah. ‘Here they come!'

Out of the hole appeared two little old men. Both were perfectly bald except for a fringe of white hair above their ears, and both had long, white, rather dirty moustaches. Their faces were shrivelled and deeply wrinkled, but their eyes, blue as a summer sea, shone brightly still. They wore patched and faded blue trousers, grey shirts, and broad red braces.