The House of Arden, E. Nesbit [best historical fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

Elfrida turned. There stood the grandfather, Lord Arden, very straight and tall and grey, leaning on his gold-headed cane, and beside him Edred, looking very small and found-out.

The old witch did not seem to see them; her eyes, that rolled and blinked, saw nothing. But she must have heard, for⁠—

“Loss to Arden,” she said; “loss and woe to Arden. The hangings of your house shall be given to the spider, and the mice shall eat your carved furnishings. Your gold shall be less and less, and your house go down and down till there is not a field that is yours about your house.”

Lord Arden shrugged his shoulders.

“Likely tales,” he said, “to frighten babes with. Tell me rather, if you would have me believe, what shall hap tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” said the wise woman, “the French shall land in Lymchurch Bay.”

Lord Arden laughed.

“And I give you a sign⁠—three signs,” said the woman faintly; for it is tiring work seeing into the future, even when you are enlightened with a kiss from someone who has been there. “You shall see the white Mouldiwarp, that is the badge of Arden, on your threshold as you enter.”

“That shall be one sign,” said the old man mockingly.

“And the second,” she said, “shall be again the badge of your house, in your own chair in your own parlour.”

“That seems likely,” said Lord Arden, sneering.

“And the third,” said she, “shall be the badge of your house in the arms of this child.”

She turned her back, and picked the hen out of the ashes.

Lord Arden led Edred and Elfrida away, one in each hand, and as he went he was very severe on disobedient children who went straying after wicked witches, and they could not defend themselves without blaming the cook, which, of course, they would not do.

“Bread and water for dinner,” he said, “to teach you better ways.”

“Oh, grandfather,” said Elfrida, catching at his hand, “don’t be so unkind! Just think about when you were little. I’m sure you liked looking at witches, didn’t you, now?”

Lord Arden stared angrily at her, and then he chuckled. “It’s a bold girl, so it is,” he said. “I own I remember well seeing a witch ducked no further off than Newchurch, and playing truant from my tutor to see it, too.”

“There now, you see,” said Elfrida coaxingly, “we don’t mean to be naughty; we’re just like what you were. You won’t make it bread and water, will you? Especially if bread’s so dear.”

Lord Arden chuckled again.

“Why, the little white mouse has found a tongue, and never was I spoken to so bold since the days I wore petticoats myself,” he said. “Well, well; we’ll say no more about it this time.”

And Edred, who had privately considered that Elfrida was behaving like an utter idiot, thought better of it.

So they turned across the summer fields to Arden Castle. There seemed to be more of the castle than when the children had first seen it, and it was tidier, much. And on the doorstep sat a white mole.

“There now!” said Elfrida. The mole vanished like a streak of white paint that is rubbed out.

“Pooh!” said Lord Arden. “There’s plenty white moles in the world.”

But when he saw the white mole sitting up in his own carved armchair in the parlour, he owned that it was very unusual.

Elfrida stooped and held out her arms. She was extremely glad to see the mole. Because ever since she and her brother had come into this strange time she had felt that it would be the greatest possible comfort to have the mole at hand⁠—the mole, who understood everything, to keep and advise; and, above all, to get them safely back into the century they belonged to.

And the Mouldiwarp made a little run and a little jump, and Elfrida caught it and held it against her waist with both her hands.

“Stay with me,” whispered Elfrida to the mole.

“By George!” said Lord Arden to the universe.

“So now you see,” said Edred to Lord Arden.

IV The Landing of the French

Then they had dinner. The children had to sit very straight and eat very slowly, and their glasses were filled with beer instead of water; and when they asked for water Lady Arden asked how many more times they would have to be told that water was unwholesome. Lord Arden was very quiet. At quite the beginning of dinner he had told his wife all about the wise woman, and the landing of the French, and the three signs, and she had said, “Law, save us, my lord; you don’t say so?” and gone on placidly cutting up her meat. But when the cloth had been drawn, and decanters of wine placed among the dishes of dried plums and preserved pears, Lord Arden brought down his fist on the table and said⁠—

“Not more than three glasses for me today, my lady. I am not superstitious, as well you know; but facts are facts. What did you do with that white Mouldiwarp?”

Elfrida had put it in the bottom drawer of the tallboys in her room (cook had told her which room that was), and said so rather timidly.

“It’s my belief,” said Lady Arden, who seemed to see what was her husband’s belief and to make it her own-a very winning quality⁠—“it’s my belief that it’s a direct warning; in return, perhaps, for the tea and sugar.”

“Ah!” said Lord Arden. “Well, whether or no, every man in this village shall be armed and paraded this day, or I’ll know the reason why. I’m not going to have the French stepping ashore as cool as cucumbers, without ‘With your leave,’ or ‘By your leave,’ and anyone to say afterwards, ‘Well, Arden, you had fair warning, only you would know best.’ ”

“No,” said Lady Arden, “that would be unpleasant.”

Lord Arden’s decision was made stronger by the arrival of a man on a very hot horse.

“The French are coming,” he said, quite out of breath. But he could not say