Chapter VI.
O’er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.
-Wordsworth
O’er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.
-Wordsworth
SOPHIA SAT DOWN upon the sunny bank outside the wall to catch her breath. All around her were noises of birds and insects and smells of fresh grass and warm earth and everything was bright and clear. There was no gloominess of stone walls around her, nor the strange dark feeling of the castle. She was as free as a bird.
She was not going to run away from the castle altogether, for it was her home and she had nowhere else to go, but she thought if she kept the hidden door a great secret, she might go out and in whenever she pleased and she did not have to be a prisoner any longer. She caught hold of some vines that had grown to the outside of the stone door and pulled until it came back into place. For some reason—perhaps it was the mechanism inside the wall on which it turned—the door closed much easier than it opened.
Sophia dusted her hands together and looked about her. She was on the north side of the castle, and all around her were the beautiful scenes she had seen from her window, only now they were much closer and far more real looking. Before her was the meadow, looking much wider than it had seemed when she had seen it from inside the castle. To her left was the white road down which she had come in the cart the first night, although of course she had not seen it then because she had been asleep. On the right was the river, but it was hidden by a steep, rocky bank and all Sophia saw was an empty place just beyond the castle. Across the meadow straight ahead of her was the forest.
She skipped down the bank and then with a little leap, began to run through the grass towards the trees. A breeze came briskly up from the river and shook the grass around her and whipped her petticoat about her legs. It was a wonderful, exciting feeling to be running with the warm, free wind and she ran even faster, as if at any moment she might leave the ground and soar up into the air.
She did not stop until she came to the borders of the forest. The air grew cooler as she came into the shade of the trees. It was early summer and the leaves were already so thick at the tops of the trees that only a little sunlight came through. In the bright patches where the sunshine managed to reach the ground, the grass grew rich and green, quite unlike it grows anywhere else but in the shade of the forest. Here and there were sunken hollows filled with ferns like pools full of green water. Everywhere else the ground was covered with a rich black mould out of which sprung moss and toadstools.
It was the most beautiful forest Sophia had ever seen, full of birds and little forest creatures. Sometimes she saw deer grazing in the grassy parts that looked up when they heard her coming and then went bounding off with their splendid heads held high. Once a flock of large, green-winged birds started up from a clump of bushes and flew off with a great beating of wings.
Almost at once Sophia came across a path which the woodcutters had made. It was very old, for people had cut wood in that forest for years and years and the path had been there as long as the woodcutters had. It was a queer little path, always twisting and winding about and never going directly anywhere. Sophia followed it as it led deeper into the forest.
She passed many signs of the woodcutters. Quite often she found places where trees had been cut down or where an old fallen log had been sawed to pieces, the sawdust still lying thickly on the ground. But for all this, not a single person did she see. The forest was quiet and deserted.
The track ran on and on, twisting around great trees and boulders and never looking as if it were going to lead back out of the wood. The trees grew thickly all along the path—mostly summer-green ones, but a few firs as well. They seemed to look at Sophia and whisper about her and shake their heads. The forest was full of warm day-time sounds of leaves rustling and birds calling. Gently and rhythmically the wind swished through the tops of the trees like waves washing the shore.
Presently Sophia heard ahead of her the sound of rushing water and soon afterwards she came upon the brook which she had seen from her tower window coming out between the two hills. It was a large brook, and in places the water would have been up to Sophia’s waist, but in others it was quite shallow and full of stepping stones. The path ran along its bank until it crossed over it on a wide fallen log.
The top of the log bridge was worn smooth and flat from many crossings, and it made a very good bridge, except that it had no handrail. It crossed the stream at a narrow place where the water was deep and flowed like a mill-race. Sophia stepped lightly onto the log and stopped for a moment in the middle to drop a pebble into the rushing white water below.
Soon after this the path became wider and so did the brook and the trees began to grow smaller and further apart and all at once Sophia came out on the banks of the great river. The ground was very level here—so level that it flooded every spring when the river rose. Meadow flowers grew thickly in the high grass and Sophia gathered an armful and plaited a crown for her hair, as she had done in the meadows in England when she had played at being the fairy queen. This place was very different from England, Sophia thought. There were no hedges or stone fences and no sheep or cows grazing, although it was good land for grazing. It all belonged to the Count of Ratavaria and he didn’t keep sheep or cows.
The path went on and Sophia followed it until it ran out onto a wide, flat rock which jutted out into the river’s current. She went all the way to the end of the great rock and stood looking at the river all around her. She had never been so close to it before, and its soft water-music sounded strange and beautiful. Up and down, as far as she could see, the water stretched like a wide, smooth lake.
Far off on the other bank she could see the pine woods. They looked much deeper and blacker than the shady forest she had just come out of and they didn’t look like a very pleasant place at all. Sophia wondered what was hidden in their shadows. A stiff wind came down the river and ruffled the smooth water and whipped Sophia’s hair about her face, and from a willow nearby a little bird with a red throat sang out.
There was not a house to be seen, except off to the south, far away and looking very small, Ratavaria Castle. Sophia had not seen the castle from any distance before and she found that it looked very pretty—like the castle from her storybook in the picture of St. George. It did not seem so frightening the way she saw it now from outside its walls.
She went back at last along the woodcutter’s track into the forest again. She had come such a long way that it was now very late in the afternoon and the sunlight was beginning to turn to the red-gold of early evening. The birds were starting to sing their evening songs and to think about bed and Sophia remembered that she had not had any dinner and found that the fresh air had made her very hungry. She hurried, hoping that no one had missed her at the castle.
She was nearly to the place where she had first entered the wood when suddenly she stopped and looked down. She had stopped in the middle of a wide patch of grass, and round the edge of it was a fairy ring of red-capped mushrooms. They were all different sizes and all were in a neat line running in a complete circle round the place where Sophia was standing.
It was the roundest fairy ring she had ever seen and it seemed as if each mushroom had been planted there on purpose, which was impossible, of course, because one doesn’t plant a mushroom as one would a cabbage or a turnip. The place was dim and shady and for a moment Sophia almost felt as if she had somehow gotten back into England, this place was like so many of the places around her old home. She got down upon her hands and knees to see if the fairies had left prints where they had danced, but she saw nothing but the marks her own shoes had made.
The wind whispered in the tops of the trees and the grass around Sophia shivered. She knelt there in the middle of the fairy ring, wondering if the fairies in that country were the same sort as the ones in England and if they had a king and queen as well. Her father would have known, she was sure. He had always known everything. Perhaps if he were there now, he could have told her the secret of Ratavaria Castle and why it was she was kept there.
How she wished he were there! How she wished she were back in the countryside in England, walking with him through the fields of corn or climbing the low green hills. She wanted a large strong hand to put hers into and strong arms to carry her when she grew tired. She didn’t want to be alone anymore.
‘Papa is in heaven,’ she said to herself, ‘so why must I keep missing him so? I shall not see him for ever so long.’
The forest around her was silent—so silent! All afternoon she had wandered by herself and had seen not a living soul, except for the wild animals. The world was so great and wide and empty.
‘There is no one,’ said Sophia aloud, and her voice sounded small and lost in the loneliness.
‘Papa!’ she cried with a little gasp, ‘oh, Papa!’
And she began to cry.
She lay face downwards in the grass and cried with the hot tears running into the cool black mould. Crying does no good but it feels as if it might sometimes. Sophia did not cry often and she had not cried once since coming from England, but she couldn’t help it now and there was no one to see her.
How long she lay there she didn’t know. All at once she heard a noise louder than the breeze blowing through the grass and the birch leaves and coming closer. She dried her eyes on her sleeve and getting upon her knees she looked toward the sound.
It was a man on horseback riding, not on the road, but through the woods. He was coming straight towards the place where Sophia was lying and she quickly got to her feet and took shelter behind a tangle of wild roses. She watched him as he rode into the little clearing, dismounted, and tied his horse to a branch. Then he stepped to the edge of the forest, which was only a few yards off, and, putting a pair of field glasses to his eyes, surveyed the castle.
So many strange things had happened already that all this scarcely surprised Sophia—she was only curious. Who was the man and why did he want to spy on the castle? He looked like a perfectly ordinary man, middle-aged with brown hair and a full brown moustache. He wore riding boots and a riding jacket and carried a sabre and pistol on his belt.
He stood gazing for several minutes through his field glasses until suddenly from the castle a white handkerchief fluttered in one window for an instant and then disappeared.
The man seemed satisfied, for he put away his field glasses, mounted his horse, and rode away through the forest again. Sophia watched him, wondering, until he disappeared between the trees.
Of a sudden the sunlight grew dim and the wind rose and began to blow leaves and seed-pods from the poplars about. Sophia looked up at the sky and saw great, dark clouds coming from the east over the pine woods. It looked like a very bad storm and the wind was already twisting the trees about with a great rushing and creaking. Sophia had grown used to rain in England, but she had never been in a place where it stormed quite so often as here. She got to her feet and hurried towards the castle.
She ran as fast as she could, but when she was still on the other side of the meadow the storm began in earnest and great flashes of lightning followed frenzied bursts of rain. She was getting wet, but that did not trouble her so much as the thought that she might be missed inside the castle. The grass was wet and so slippery that it was hard to run on, and everything grew darker and harder to see except when there was lightning. Twice Sophia thought she heard hoof-beats somewhere behind her but, looking back, she saw nothing but the grey rain-sheets blowing across the meadow.
She reached the tower and leaned hard against the wall, but she was so out-of-breath that she could not make the hidden door move. Again and again she tried but it would not budge and she began to grow desperate. What if she could not get it open? They would find her outside the castle—they would discover the secret door—they would lock it up and she would never be able to get out again!
The rain poured down yet more furiously and the thunder-flashes came nearer and nearer. Desperately Sophia put her hands on the wall and pushed with all her might.
Suddenly, two arms appeared on either side of her, two hands appeared above her own, and someone behind Sophia pushed with all his might—
And the door swung open.
She was not going to run away from the castle altogether, for it was her home and she had nowhere else to go, but she thought if she kept the hidden door a great secret, she might go out and in whenever she pleased and she did not have to be a prisoner any longer. She caught hold of some vines that had grown to the outside of the stone door and pulled until it came back into place. For some reason—perhaps it was the mechanism inside the wall on which it turned—the door closed much easier than it opened.
Sophia dusted her hands together and looked about her. She was on the north side of the castle, and all around her were the beautiful scenes she had seen from her window, only now they were much closer and far more real looking. Before her was the meadow, looking much wider than it had seemed when she had seen it from inside the castle. To her left was the white road down which she had come in the cart the first night, although of course she had not seen it then because she had been asleep. On the right was the river, but it was hidden by a steep, rocky bank and all Sophia saw was an empty place just beyond the castle. Across the meadow straight ahead of her was the forest.
She skipped down the bank and then with a little leap, began to run through the grass towards the trees. A breeze came briskly up from the river and shook the grass around her and whipped her petticoat about her legs. It was a wonderful, exciting feeling to be running with the warm, free wind and she ran even faster, as if at any moment she might leave the ground and soar up into the air.
She did not stop until she came to the borders of the forest. The air grew cooler as she came into the shade of the trees. It was early summer and the leaves were already so thick at the tops of the trees that only a little sunlight came through. In the bright patches where the sunshine managed to reach the ground, the grass grew rich and green, quite unlike it grows anywhere else but in the shade of the forest. Here and there were sunken hollows filled with ferns like pools full of green water. Everywhere else the ground was covered with a rich black mould out of which sprung moss and toadstools.
It was the most beautiful forest Sophia had ever seen, full of birds and little forest creatures. Sometimes she saw deer grazing in the grassy parts that looked up when they heard her coming and then went bounding off with their splendid heads held high. Once a flock of large, green-winged birds started up from a clump of bushes and flew off with a great beating of wings.
Almost at once Sophia came across a path which the woodcutters had made. It was very old, for people had cut wood in that forest for years and years and the path had been there as long as the woodcutters had. It was a queer little path, always twisting and winding about and never going directly anywhere. Sophia followed it as it led deeper into the forest.
She passed many signs of the woodcutters. Quite often she found places where trees had been cut down or where an old fallen log had been sawed to pieces, the sawdust still lying thickly on the ground. But for all this, not a single person did she see. The forest was quiet and deserted.
The track ran on and on, twisting around great trees and boulders and never looking as if it were going to lead back out of the wood. The trees grew thickly all along the path—mostly summer-green ones, but a few firs as well. They seemed to look at Sophia and whisper about her and shake their heads. The forest was full of warm day-time sounds of leaves rustling and birds calling. Gently and rhythmically the wind swished through the tops of the trees like waves washing the shore.
Presently Sophia heard ahead of her the sound of rushing water and soon afterwards she came upon the brook which she had seen from her tower window coming out between the two hills. It was a large brook, and in places the water would have been up to Sophia’s waist, but in others it was quite shallow and full of stepping stones. The path ran along its bank until it crossed over it on a wide fallen log.
The top of the log bridge was worn smooth and flat from many crossings, and it made a very good bridge, except that it had no handrail. It crossed the stream at a narrow place where the water was deep and flowed like a mill-race. Sophia stepped lightly onto the log and stopped for a moment in the middle to drop a pebble into the rushing white water below.
Soon after this the path became wider and so did the brook and the trees began to grow smaller and further apart and all at once Sophia came out on the banks of the great river. The ground was very level here—so level that it flooded every spring when the river rose. Meadow flowers grew thickly in the high grass and Sophia gathered an armful and plaited a crown for her hair, as she had done in the meadows in England when she had played at being the fairy queen. This place was very different from England, Sophia thought. There were no hedges or stone fences and no sheep or cows grazing, although it was good land for grazing. It all belonged to the Count of Ratavaria and he didn’t keep sheep or cows.
The path went on and Sophia followed it until it ran out onto a wide, flat rock which jutted out into the river’s current. She went all the way to the end of the great rock and stood looking at the river all around her. She had never been so close to it before, and its soft water-music sounded strange and beautiful. Up and down, as far as she could see, the water stretched like a wide, smooth lake.
Far off on the other bank she could see the pine woods. They looked much deeper and blacker than the shady forest she had just come out of and they didn’t look like a very pleasant place at all. Sophia wondered what was hidden in their shadows. A stiff wind came down the river and ruffled the smooth water and whipped Sophia’s hair about her face, and from a willow nearby a little bird with a red throat sang out.
There was not a house to be seen, except off to the south, far away and looking very small, Ratavaria Castle. Sophia had not seen the castle from any distance before and she found that it looked very pretty—like the castle from her storybook in the picture of St. George. It did not seem so frightening the way she saw it now from outside its walls.
She went back at last along the woodcutter’s track into the forest again. She had come such a long way that it was now very late in the afternoon and the sunlight was beginning to turn to the red-gold of early evening. The birds were starting to sing their evening songs and to think about bed and Sophia remembered that she had not had any dinner and found that the fresh air had made her very hungry. She hurried, hoping that no one had missed her at the castle.
She was nearly to the place where she had first entered the wood when suddenly she stopped and looked down. She had stopped in the middle of a wide patch of grass, and round the edge of it was a fairy ring of red-capped mushrooms. They were all different sizes and all were in a neat line running in a complete circle round the place where Sophia was standing.
It was the roundest fairy ring she had ever seen and it seemed as if each mushroom had been planted there on purpose, which was impossible, of course, because one doesn’t plant a mushroom as one would a cabbage or a turnip. The place was dim and shady and for a moment Sophia almost felt as if she had somehow gotten back into England, this place was like so many of the places around her old home. She got down upon her hands and knees to see if the fairies had left prints where they had danced, but she saw nothing but the marks her own shoes had made.
The wind whispered in the tops of the trees and the grass around Sophia shivered. She knelt there in the middle of the fairy ring, wondering if the fairies in that country were the same sort as the ones in England and if they had a king and queen as well. Her father would have known, she was sure. He had always known everything. Perhaps if he were there now, he could have told her the secret of Ratavaria Castle and why it was she was kept there.
How she wished he were there! How she wished she were back in the countryside in England, walking with him through the fields of corn or climbing the low green hills. She wanted a large strong hand to put hers into and strong arms to carry her when she grew tired. She didn’t want to be alone anymore.
‘Papa is in heaven,’ she said to herself, ‘so why must I keep missing him so? I shall not see him for ever so long.’
The forest around her was silent—so silent! All afternoon she had wandered by herself and had seen not a living soul, except for the wild animals. The world was so great and wide and empty.
‘There is no one,’ said Sophia aloud, and her voice sounded small and lost in the loneliness.
‘Papa!’ she cried with a little gasp, ‘oh, Papa!’
And she began to cry.
She lay face downwards in the grass and cried with the hot tears running into the cool black mould. Crying does no good but it feels as if it might sometimes. Sophia did not cry often and she had not cried once since coming from England, but she couldn’t help it now and there was no one to see her.
How long she lay there she didn’t know. All at once she heard a noise louder than the breeze blowing through the grass and the birch leaves and coming closer. She dried her eyes on her sleeve and getting upon her knees she looked toward the sound.
It was a man on horseback riding, not on the road, but through the woods. He was coming straight towards the place where Sophia was lying and she quickly got to her feet and took shelter behind a tangle of wild roses. She watched him as he rode into the little clearing, dismounted, and tied his horse to a branch. Then he stepped to the edge of the forest, which was only a few yards off, and, putting a pair of field glasses to his eyes, surveyed the castle.
So many strange things had happened already that all this scarcely surprised Sophia—she was only curious. Who was the man and why did he want to spy on the castle? He looked like a perfectly ordinary man, middle-aged with brown hair and a full brown moustache. He wore riding boots and a riding jacket and carried a sabre and pistol on his belt.
He stood gazing for several minutes through his field glasses until suddenly from the castle a white handkerchief fluttered in one window for an instant and then disappeared.
The man seemed satisfied, for he put away his field glasses, mounted his horse, and rode away through the forest again. Sophia watched him, wondering, until he disappeared between the trees.
Of a sudden the sunlight grew dim and the wind rose and began to blow leaves and seed-pods from the poplars about. Sophia looked up at the sky and saw great, dark clouds coming from the east over the pine woods. It looked like a very bad storm and the wind was already twisting the trees about with a great rushing and creaking. Sophia had grown used to rain in England, but she had never been in a place where it stormed quite so often as here. She got to her feet and hurried towards the castle.
She ran as fast as she could, but when she was still on the other side of the meadow the storm began in earnest and great flashes of lightning followed frenzied bursts of rain. She was getting wet, but that did not trouble her so much as the thought that she might be missed inside the castle. The grass was wet and so slippery that it was hard to run on, and everything grew darker and harder to see except when there was lightning. Twice Sophia thought she heard hoof-beats somewhere behind her but, looking back, she saw nothing but the grey rain-sheets blowing across the meadow.
She reached the tower and leaned hard against the wall, but she was so out-of-breath that she could not make the hidden door move. Again and again she tried but it would not budge and she began to grow desperate. What if she could not get it open? They would find her outside the castle—they would discover the secret door—they would lock it up and she would never be able to get out again!
The rain poured down yet more furiously and the thunder-flashes came nearer and nearer. Desperately Sophia put her hands on the wall and pushed with all her might.
Suddenly, two arms appeared on either side of her, two hands appeared above her own, and someone behind Sophia pushed with all his might—
And the door swung open.
* * *
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