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

boy appeared to be crying bitterly, and no wonder, the nurse explained, seeing his dear father and sister thus.

“I will convey him to our coach, good masters,” she said to the guard, “and return for my other charge, young Master Richard Arden.”

And on that she got Elfrida in her boy’s clothes out at the gate and into the waiting carriage. The coachman, by previous arrangement with the old nurse, was asleep on the box, and the footman, also by previous arrangement, was refreshing himself at a tavern near by.

“Under the seat,” said the old nurse, and thrusting Elfrida in, shut the coach door and left her. And there was Elfrida, dressed like a boy, huddled up among the straw at the bottom of the coach.

So far, so good. But the most dangerous part of the adventure still remained. The nurse got in again easily enough; she was let in by the guard who had seen her come out. And as she went slowly across the snowy courtyard she heard ring under the gateway the stamping feet of the men who had come to relieve guard, and to be themselves the new guard. So far, again, so good. The danger lay with the guard at the door of Lord Arden’s rooms, and in the chance that some of the old guard might be lingering about the gateway when she came out, not with one little boy as they would expect, but with two. But this had to be risked. The nurse waited as long as she dared so as to lessen the chance of meeting any of the old guard as she went out with her charges. She waited quietly in a corner while Lord Arden talked with the boys. And when at last she said, “The time is done, my Lord,” she already knew that the guard at the room door had been changed.

“So now for it,” said Edred, as he and Richard followed the nurse down the narrow steps and across the snowy courtyard.

The new guard saw the woman and two boys, and the captain of the guard read the Queen’s paper, which the old nurse had taken care to get back from the lieutenant. And as plainly Master Edred Arden and Master Richard Arden, with their attendant, had passed in, so now they were permitted to pass out, and two minutes later a great coach was lumbering along the snowy streets, and inside it four people were embracing in rapture at the success of their stratagem.

“But it was Edred thought of it,” said Richard, as in honour bound, “and he arranged everything and carried it out.”

“How splendid of him!” said Elfrida warmly; and I think it was rather splendid of her not to spoil his pride and pleasure in this, the first adventure he had ever planned and executed entirely on his own account. She could very easily have spoiled it, you know, by pointing out to him that the whole thing was quite unnecessary, and that they could have got away much more easily by going into a corner in the Tower and saying poetry to the Mouldiwarp.

So they came to Arden House.

The coachman was apparently asleep again, and the footman went round and did something to the harness after he had got the front door opened, and it was quite easy for the nurse to send the footman who opened the door to order a meal to be served at once for Mr. Arden and Mr. Richard. So that no one saw that instead of the two little boys who had left Arden House in the afternoon three came back to it in the evening.

Then the nurse took them into the parlour and shut the door.

“Now,” she said, “Master Richard will go take off his fine suit, and Miss Arden will go into the little room and change her raiment. And for you, Master Edred, you wait here with me.”

When the others had obediently gone, the nurse stood looking at Edred with eyes that grew larger and different, and he stood looking at her with eyes that grew rounder and rounder.

“Why,” he said at last, “you’re the witch⁠—the witch we took the tea and things to.”

“And if I am?” said she. “Do you think you’re the only people who can come back into other times? You’re not all the world yet, Master Arden of Arden. But you’ve got the makings of a fine boy and a fine man, and I think you’ve learned something in these old ancient times.”

He had, there is no doubt of it. Whether it was being thought important enough to be imprisoned in the Tower, or whether it was the long talks he had with Sir Walter Raleigh, that fine genius and great gentleman, or whether it was Mr. Parados’s knuckle-rappings and scowlings, I do not know. But it is certain that this adventure was the beginning of the change in Edred which ended in his being “brave and kind and wise” as the old rhyme had told him to be.

“And now,” said the nurse, as Elfrida appeared in her girl’s clothes, “there is not a moment to lose. Already at the Tower they have found out our trick. You must go back to your own times.”

“She’s the witch,” Edred briefly answered the open amazement in Elfrida’s eyes.

“There is no time to lose,” the nurse repeated.

“I must be even with old Parados first,” said Edred; and so he was, and it took exactly twenty minutes, and I will tell you all about it afterwards.

When he was even with old Parados the old nurse sent Richard to bed; and then Elfrida made haste to say, “I did make some poetry to call the Mouldiwarp, but it’s all about the Tower, and we’re not there now. It’s no use saying⁠—

“ ‘Oh, Mouldiwarp, you have the power
To get us out of this beastly Tower,’

when we’re not in the Tower, and I can’t think of anything else, and.⁠ ⁠…”

But the nurse interrupted her.

“Never mind about poetry,” she said; “poetry’s