"Christopher, John - The White Mountains" - читать интересную книгу автора (Christopher John)

The Road to the Sea



Two things made me wait longer than a week before I set out. The first was that the moon was new, no more than a sliver of light, and I was reckoning to travel by night. I needed a half moon at least for that. The other was something I had not expected: Henry's mother died.
She and my mother were sisters. She had been ill for a long time, but her actual death was sudden. My mother took charge of things, and the first thing she did was to bring Henry over to our house and put up a bed for him in my room. This was not welcome, from any point of view, but naturally I could not object to it. My sympathy was coldly offered, and coldly received, and after that we kept to ourselves, as far as was possible for two boys sharing a not very large room.
It was a nuisance, I decided, but not really important. The nights were not yet light enough for me to travel, and I presumed that he would be going back home after the funeral. But when, on the morning of the funeral, I said something of this to my mother, I found to my horror that I was wrong.
She said, "Henry's staying with us."
"For how long?"
"For good. Until you have both been Capped, anyway. Your Uncle Ralph has too much to do on the farm to be able to look after a boy, and he doesn't want to leave him in the care of servants all day."
I did not say anything, but my expression must have been revealing. She said, with unusual sternness, "And I will not have you sulking about it! He has lost his mother, and you should have the decency to show some compassion."
I said, "Can't I have my own room at least? There's the apple room spare."
"I would have given you your room back but for the way you've behaved. In less than a year you will be a man. You must learn to act like a man, not a sullen child."
"But..."
"I will not discuss it with you," she said angrily. "If you say another word, I shall speak to your father."
With which she left the room, her skirt sweeping imperiously around the door. Thinking about it, I decided that it made small difference. If I hid my clothes in the mill room, I could sneak out after he was asleep and change there. I was determined to leave, as planned, on the half moon.
There was heavy rain during the next two days, but after that it cleared, and a blazing hot afternoon dried up most of the mud. Everything went well. Before going to bed, I had hidden my clothes and pack and a couple of big loaves with them. After that it was only a matter of staying awake, and keyed up as I was, it did not prove difficult. Eventually Henry's breathing, on the far side of the room, became deep and even in sleep. I lay and thought about the journey: the sea, the strange lands beyond, the Great Lake, and the mountains on which snow lay all summer through. Even without what I had learned of the Tripods and the Caps, the idea was exciting.
The moon rose above the level of my window, and I slipped out of bed. Carefully I opened the bedroom door, and carefully closed it after me. The house was very quiet. The stairs creaked a little under my feet, but no one would pay attention even if they heard it. It was an old wooden house, and creakings at night were not unusual. I went through the big door to the mill room, found my clothes, and dressed quickly. Then out through the door by the river. The wheel was motionless and the water gurgled and splashed, black streaked with silver, all around it.
Once across the bridge, I felt much safer. In a few minutes I would be clear of the village. A cat tiptoed delicately across the cobbles, and another, on a doorstep, licked its moon-bright fur. A dog barked, hearing me, perhaps, and suspicious, but not near enough to be alarming. With the Widow Ingold's cottage behind me, I broke into a run. I arrived at the den panting and out of breath, but pleased with myself for having got away undetected.
With flint and steel and an oil-soaked rag, I lit a candle, and set about filling my pack. I had overestimated the amount of space at my disposal; after several reshufflings I still could not get one loaf in. Well, I could carry it for now, and I proposed to stop and eat at dawn; there would be room after that. I had a last look around the den, making sure I had left nothing I would need, doused the candle and slipped it in my pocket, and went out.
It was a good night to be going. The sky bright with stars-all suns, like our own?-and the half moon rising, the air gentle. I picked up my pack to put it on. As I did, a voice spoke from the shadows, a few feet away. Henry's voice.
He said, "I heard you go out, and I followed you."
I could not see his face, but I thought there was a mocking tone in his voice. I may have been wrong-it may have been no more than nervousness-but just then I thought he was crowing [SIC] over having tracked me down. I felt blind anger at this and, dropping my pack, rushed at him. I had been the victor in two of our last three encounters, and I was confident that I could beat him again.
Overconfident, as it proved, and blind anger was no help. He knocked me down, and I got up, and he knocked me down again. In a short time I was on the ground, and he was sitting on me, pinioning my wrists with his hands. I struggled and sweated and heaved, but it was no good. He had me quite firmly.
"Listen." he said, "I want to tell you something. I know you're running away. You must be, with that pack. What I'm saying is, I want to come with you."
For answer I made a quick jerk and twist, but his body rolled with mine and kept me fastened. He said, panting a little, "I want to come with you. There's nothing for me here, now."
His mother, my Aunt Ada, had been a quici^ [SIC] lively, warm-hearted woman, even during the long months of illness. My Uncle Ralph, on the other hand, was a gloomy and taciturn man, who had been willing-perhaps relieved-to let his son go to another's home. I saw what Henry meant.
There was something else, too, of more practical importance. If I had beaten him in the fight-what then? Leave him here, with the risk of his raising the alarm? There was nothing else I could have done. Whereas if he were to come with me ... I could give him the slip before we reached the port and Captain Curtis. I had no intention of taking him there with me. I still disliked him, and even if I had not, I would have been reluctant to share the secrets I had had from Ozymandias.
I had stopped struggling. I said, "Let me up."
"Can I come with you?"
"Yes."
He allowed me to get up. I dusted myself, and we stared at each other in the moonlight. I said, "You haven't brought any food, of course. Well have to share what I've got."
A couple of days would see us within reach of the port, and I had enough for two for that time.
"Come on," I said. "We'd better get started."
We made good progress through bright moonlight and, when dawn came, were well clear of familiar country. I called a brief halt, and we rested, and ate half of one of the loaves with cheese and drank water from a stream. Then we continued, more and more tired as the day wore on and the sun scorched its way up through a dry blue sky.
It was about midday and we were hot and sweating, when, reaching the crest of a rise, we looked down into a saucer-shaped valley. The land was well cultivated. There was a village, and other dwellings dotted about, with the ant-like figures of men working in the fields. The road ran through the valley and the village. Henry clutched my arm, pointing.
"Look!"
Four men on horseback were making for the village. It could have been any errand. On the other hand, it could have been a search party looking for us.
I came to a decision. We had been skirting a wood. I said, "We'll stay in the wood till evening. We can get some sleep and be fresh for the night."
"Do you think traveling by night is the best way?" Henry asked. "I know we're less likely to be seen, but we can't see as well ourselves. We could work around the top of the ridge-there's no one up here."
I said, "You do as you like. I'm lying up."
He shrugged. "We'll stay here if you say so."
His ready acquiescence did not soothe me. I had the uneasy feeling that what he had said was not unreasonable. I made my way in silence into the wood, and Henry followed. We found a place, deep in the brush, where we were not likely to be noticed even by someone passing quite close, and stretched out. I must have fallen asleep almost at once.
When I awoke, it was nearly dark. I saw Henry asleep beside me. If I were to get up quietly, I might be able to sneak away without waking him. The idea was tempting. It seemed unfair, though, to leave him here, in a wood, with night coming on. I put my hand out to shake him and noticed something as I did so: he had looped the strap of my pack round his arm, so that I could not have taken it without disturbing him. The possibility had occurred to him, too!
He woke at my touch. We had the rest of the loaf and a shank of ham before moving off. The trees were dense, and we did not see much of the sky until we came out. I realized then that the gloom was not simply due to the near approach of night; it had clouded over while we slept, and I felt an occasional heavy drop of rain on my bare arms and face. The half moon was not going to be much help behind that cover.
In fading light we made our way down into the valley and up the slope beyond. Lamps were lit in the windows of houses, enabling us to give them a wide berth. There was a flurry of rain, but the evening was warm and it dried on us as we walked. At the top we looked down at the clustering lights of the village and then went on to southeast. Darkness fell rapidly after that. We were on rolling upland, mainly of close-cropped grass. At one point we came across a ramshackle hut, plainly deserted, and Henry suggested staying there till the light improved, but I would not have it, and he plodded on behind me.
It was some time before either of us spoke. Then Henry said, "Listen."
In some annoyance, I said, "What is it now?"
"I think someone's coming after us."
I heard it myself: the sound of feet on the grass behind us. And more than one pair of feet. We could have been seen by people in the village, warned to watch out for us by the four horsemen. And they could have come up the hill after us, and could now be quietly closing in.