Martin Pippin in the Apple Orchard by Eleanor Farjeon (top 10 novels to read .TXT) 📗

is nearly as simple. You have but to observe four rules. First, to tell no living soul of your resolve during the month of initiation. Second, to keep your vigil always between the two great beeches in the middle of the Ring. Third, to issue forth at midnight and immerse your head in the Dewpond which lies on the hilltop to the west, and having done so to return to your watch between the trees. And fourth, to make no utterance on any account whatever from sunset to sunrise."

"Suppose I should sneeze?" inquired the King anxiously.

"There's no supposing about it," said the Ringdove. "Sneezing, seeing that your head will be extremely wet, is practically inevitable. But the rule applies only to such utterance as lies within human control. When the fourth vigil has been successfully accomplished, return to us for a blessing and the gray robe of our Order."

"But how," asked the King, "during my vigils shall I know when midnight is due?"

"In the third quarter after eleven a bird sings. At the beginning of its song go forth from the Ring, and at the ending plunge your head into the Pond. For on these nights the bird sings ceaselessly for fifteen minutes, but stops at the very moment of midnight."

"And is this really all?"

"This is all."

"How easy it is to become good," said William cheerfully. "I will begin at once."

So impatient was he to become a Brother Dove--

(But here Martin Pippin broke off abruptly, and catching the rope of the swing in his left hand he gave it a great lurch.

Joan: Oh! Oh! Oh!

Martin: I perceive, Mistress Joan, that you lose interest in my story. Your mouth droops.

Joan: Oh, no! Oh, no! It is only--it is a very nice story--but--

Martin: What cannot be said aloud can frequently be whispered.

He leaned his ear close to her mouth, and very shyly she whispered into it.

Joan (whispering very shyly): Why must the young King join a Brotherhood? I thought...this was to be a...love story.

Martin smiled and chose an apple from her lap.

"Keep this for me," said he, "until I ask for it; and if you are not then satisfied, neither will I be")

So impatient (resumed Martin) was the King to enter the Brotherhood, that he abandoned his idea of visiting the Huddle Stone and the Wapping Thorp (which would have taken him out of his course), and, without even waiting to break his fast, leaped on to Pepper's back and turned her head southwest towards the hills. And in his eagerness he failed to remark how Pepper stumbled at every second step. Before he had gone a mile he came to the Guess Gate.

Of the Guess Gate, as you may know, all men ask a question in passing through, and in the back-swing of the Gate it creaks an answer. So nothing more natural than that the King, having flung the Gate open, should cry aloud once more:

"Gate, Gate! What should a King do in a Barn?"

"Now at last," thought he, "I shall be told whether to dance or to pray in it." And he stood listening eagerly as the Gate hung an instant on its outward journey and then began to creak home.

"He--should--rule--in--it--he--should--rule--in--it--he--should--" squeaked the Guess Gate, and then latch clicked and it was silent.

This disconcerted William.

"Now I am worse off than ever," he sighed. "Pray, Pepper, can this advice be bettered?"

As usual when he questioned her, the nag pricked up her ears and whinnied so violently that he nearly fell off her back. Nevertheless, he kept Pepper's head in a beeline for Chanctonbury, never noticing how very ill she was going, and presently crossed the great High Road beyond which lay the Bush Hovel. The Wise Woman was at home; from afar the King saw her sitting outside the Hovel mending her broom with a withe from the Bush.

"Here if anywhere," rejoiced William, "I shall learn the truth."

He dismounted and approached the old woman, cap in hand.

"Wise Woman," he said respectfully, "you know most things, but do you know this--whether a King should dance or pray or rule in his Barn?"

"He should do all three, young man," said the Wise Woman.

"But--!" exclaimed William.

"I'm busy," snapped the Wise Woman. "You men will always be chattering, as though pots need never be stewed nor cobwebs swept." So saying, she went into the Hovel and slammed the door.

"Pepper," said the poor King, "I am at my wits' ends. Go where yours lead you."

At this Pepper whinnied in a perfect frenzy of delight, and the King had to clasp both arms round her neck to avoid tumbling off.

Now the little nag preferred roads to beelines over copses and ditches, and she turned back and ambled along the highway so very lamely that it became impossible even for her preoccupied rider not to perceive that she had cast all her four shoes.

"Poor beast!" he cried dismayed, "how has this happened, and where? Oh, Pepper, how could you be so careless? I have not a penny in my purse to buy you new shoes, my poor Pepper. Do you not remember where you lost them?"

The little nag licked her master's hand (for he had dismounted to examine her trouble), and looked at him with great eyes full of affection, and then she flung up her head and whinnied louder than ever. The sound of it was like nothing so much as laughter. Then she went on, hobbling as best she could, and the King walked by her side with his hand on her neck. In this way they came to a small village, and here the nag turned up a by-road and halted outside the blacksmith's forge. The smith's Lad stood within, clinking at the anvil, the smuttiest Lad smith ever had.

"Lad!" cried the King.

The Lad looked up from his work and came at once to the door, wiping his hands upon his leather apron.

"Where am I?" asked the King.

"In the village of Washington," said the Lad.

"What! Under the Ring?" cried the King.

"Yes, sir," said the