Lord of the Far Island, Victoria Holt [world of reading TXT] 📗

other. I found Daveth, as Gwennol had suggested, somewhat sprightly, but I was able to manage her. Jago glanced sideways at me on one or two occasions and I was delighted out of all proportion because I was a tolerably good horsewoman and, I believed, had his approval.

We paused at the top of the hill. What a sight lay before us! I had a wonderful view of the castle with its gray stone walls and battlemented towers. What an impressive edifice it was! It seemed impregnable, almost as though it were truculently inviting an enemy to come and try to take it and see what the result would be. In the past it would have been a perfect fortification against marauders. I could see the Blue Rock Island rising out of the sea.

Jago followed my gaze. "Blue Rock," he said. "It's a pity we allowed that to pass out of our hands. It belonged to the Kellaways at one time."

"What happened then?"

"Your grandfather sold it. He was in financial difficulties. To tell the truth, he was a bit of a gambler. I think the family have regretted the sale ever since."

"Is that a house on it?"

"Yes. It's Blue Rock House. The one built by that Gwennol I told you about."

"Does anyone live there now?"

"An artist. He inherited it from the man your grandfather sold it to. I think he's a nephew... or great-nephew or something."

"Does he live there alone?"

"Quite alone. He's not there all the time though. He travels around a bit, I believe."

"Is he a well-known artist?"

"I don't know enough about such matters to tell you. His name is James Manton. Have you ever heard it?"

"I can't say I have, although I don't know very much about painters either. My mother was an artist. I remember how she always had a sketchbook with her and she used to draw pictures to amuse me. Perhaps I shall meet this James Manton."

"He doesn't visit the Island. He and your father didn't like each other. Look. You can see the mainland. Can you make it out?"

I could. "It's a comforting sight," I commented.

"Comforting." A faint frown appeared between his eyes.

"One doesn't feel so cut off from the rest of the world," I explained.

"Does it bother you then ... to feel cut off?"

"Not really, but I suppose one would always be aware of being on an island and therefore it's nice to know that the mainland is not far away."

"One is, you know, when the weather is bad ... as you've discovered. There are some seas it would be folly to put out in."

"Yes, but there is always the knowledge that it will change and that the bad weather won't last forever."

He nodded.

"I will show you our community. It's complete in itself. We are a little kingdom, you might say. There is much of long-ago times left on the Island and I intend to keep it that way."

We cantered across a green stretch and had come to the shore.

He showed me a stake stuck in the sand. "At high tide," he said, "that will be covered with water. It's been there five hundred years. At that time the lord of the Island—it must have been a Kellaway—would order that a criminal should be tied to it at low tide. He would be given two barley loaves and a pitcher of water and left there. When the tide rose he would be drowned."

"How cruel."

"It was the justice of the day."

"You don't follow that practice now, I hope," I said jocularly.

"No, but I keep good order here, as I told you. Look! There is the old ducking stool. It is used even now. . . . Sometimes a man's friend will duck his nagging wife, or there will be someone suspected of being a witch."

"And that still goes on?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Old customs remain and in a place like this more so than on the mainland. Come along, I want you to meet some of the people. I want them to know that you are my honored guest."

We had come to a group of houses surrounded by fields. A man driving a cart was coming towards us. He touched his forelock and called out: "Good day to 'ee, Mr. Jago."

"Good day," responded Jago. "This is my ward, Miss Ellen Kellaway."

"Good day to 'ee, Miss," said the man.

"And a fine one, Jim, eh?"

"Aye, Master, 'tis indeed a fine one."

He passed on.

"All these people," said Jago, "are our tenants. Every bit of the land is Kellaway land owned by the family for the last six hundred years."

In the center of the houses was a shop, the window of which was crammed full of goods. It seemed to be a linen draper, hosier, tallow chandler, hardware man, grocer and baker all combined. I made up my mind that I would take an opportunity of visiting that shop as soon as possible.

From one house in the street came the cheerful sound of much merrymaking.

"I can guess what's happening here," said Jago, "because I know there's a new baby in the house. It's a christening party. They wouldn't like it if I passed by and didn't well-wish the baby. We'll dismount and join them for a moment." He shouted: "Boy! Come and hold the horses." And as if by magic a boy appeared.

"Take mine and the lady's," said Jago; and we dismounted and went into the house.

"Why 'tis the master," said a woman, dropping a curtsy.

We were in a small cottage in which several people were gathered, and there was hardly room for Jago and me—particularly Jago. It seemed like a doll's room when he stood in it.

" 'Tis honored we be," said the man who seemed likely to be the woman's husband.

"Where's the baby?" asked Jago.

"She be in her cradle, Mr. Jago. 'Twould be an honor if you'd bless the child like and take a piece of the cheeld's fuggan."

He would, he said, and I should too.

"And a glass of sloe gin, Master, to wash it down."

"I'll have