The Hollow Kingdom (2 page)
"I don't suppose someone of your age and gender is going to sit through a linguistic analysis," he remarked. Kate saw her little sister's face darken and spoke quickly to prevent a catastrophe.
"We'd love to hear about Hallow Hill's name," she protested with a bright smile. "Place-name etymology is so fascinating. The words come out of Old English, don't they, so the name can't date back to the Roman times, but it could certainly predate the Norman Conquest."
Hugh Roberts fixed Kate with a critical stare. She noticed an ink stain on his nose and hoped her sister wouldn't mention it.
"So we've read a book or two," he commented dryly. "Yes, the word
hallow
is Old English, but we don't know that
hallow
, or
holy
, is what was intended at all. Perhaps
hollow
is what was meant. Some early documents call the bald peak behind this house Hollow Hill, and there certainly are caves throughout the area. And 'Hollow Lake' may just be a short way of saying the 'lake by Hollow Hill.'
"However, we aren't even positive that is the original Hallow Hill. Near the Lodge house is a smaller hill with a flat, circular crown, and around this crown is a double circle of ancient oak trees. The site was obviously an important druidic center. There are those who say that is the real Hallow Hill, but probably to the early inhabitants this whole region was sacred. It has never been mined, the forests haven't been logged, and the locals retain to this day a tremendous superstitious lore about the area. Calling something
hallow
for hundreds of years has a way of making people treat it as holy whether it really is or not." He picked up his book again. "It's a fascinating human phenomenon, the tenacious preservation of ignorance," he remarked caustically and ignored the conversation around him for the remainder of the meal.
In another half hour, Emily and Kate found themselves back out in the sunshine, facing another carriage ride. Their guardian lived in this large estate house, the Hall, but the girls were not to live here with him. They were to go on to the smaller house, the Lodge, where their great-aunts lived.
The Hall faced a large, open green that was not in the least interesting. It contained rigidly geometric pebbled walks, square garden beds, and bench seats set primly by the straight, tree-lined borders. But the ground to the sides and back of the house began rising at once into small, tumbled hills, and through the windows of the dining room the girls had seen tantalizing views of a shady terrace, moss-covered rock walls, and paths disappearing into the dim forest that reached down and enclosed the Hall on three sides. Kate and
Emily were wild with delight at the thought of those secret paths winding through primeval woodland. They could hardly bear to climb into the carriage for the sedate jog over to the Lodge.
The ride proved more satisfying than they had expected. The gravel track passed the front of the Hall and rapidly left the depressing tidiness of the green behind. It skirted the very edge of the forest and rose and fell with the unevenness of the landscape, providing a view on the one side of windblown meadows full of wildflowers and on the other of those gloomy, green-dappled forest depths that they already longed to explore. The track passed through a grassy orchard as it climbed a steady slope, and the Lodge house stood before them, shaded by large, well-trimmed trees.
Kate and Emily stared up at the big white house. Emily was surprised by its size; hearing that she was to live in the "small Lodge house," she had expected to see a two-room hut. The Lodge had three stories, the top one peeking out through small dormer windows tucked under a steep gray roof. The front door was exactly in the middle, and all the tall windows up and down were perfectly matched and symmetrical. Over their heads and over the house swung the thick boughs of the great shade trees, casting an ever-changing net of shadow and sun on the ground below. Kate listened to the gentle rush of the wind whispering through leaves and branches. She felt it settle into her soul and fill some lonely place there.
The Lodge was a very ordinary square house designed to provide four spacious rooms on each floor with a hallway down the middle. The front door faced the straight hall and staircase, which began about ten feet inside it. Kate, standing on the rug, could see right through to the back door, which stood open to let in the breeze. On her left was a parlor, on her right, a dining room, open to each other by the full width of the entry. Their walls began only at the staircase.
Houses take on the character of their inhabitants. Kate's initial impression was of tranquility and tidiness. Gauzy white curtains
fluttered at the large glass windows, and soft, plump chairs and sofas gathered in the rooms. Tones of green, white, and blue predominated in the upholstery, and the walls were a soft gray-green. The cushioned chairs and quiet hues spoke of peace. The crystal-clear windows and perfect spotlessness spoke of industry.
Kate and Emily trailed through the house after their great-aunts and saw everything there was to see, from the kitchen by the back door to the upstairs bedrooms. Prim and Celia had the two bedrooms on the left side of the upstairs hall, and the girls were given ones on the right.
Kate's room faced the front. "We did think this would be pretty for a young lady like you," said Aunt Celia. "It has Grandmother's furniture, and Prim and I could just imagine you combing your lovely hair before the glass at her dressing table."
Emily had the back bedroom. "You'll never believe how many storms we have here, dear," cautioned Aunt Prim. "Such wild country! If you wake in the night, my room is right across the hall. No need to dodge around the stairs when you're in a fright."
It took the girls a week to find the druids' circle that their cousin had spoken of. They discovered it after supper one evening, quite close behind the Lodge. The forest path they were following began
climbing a steep slope. As they looked upward, they saw an evenly planted row of ancient oaks set in thick green turf. In the gaps between they could see a further row of trees, but so massive were the specimens in this double ring that they could not see past the two rows together. The enormous trunks, wider than the girls could span with their arms, formed a perfect barrier, protecting whatever lay beyond from careless eyes.
Hand in hand, the girls approached this awesome barricade and slipped between the giant sentinels. The tops of these hoary trees, so close together for so many ages, had grown into one dense, continuous ring. No sunlight pierced it to fall on the intruders beneath, and yet the green turf continued underfoot, right up to the great trunks.
Inside the ring, the broad crown of the hill was almost flat. They could not see beyond the trees either to the distant hills or to the woods outside. They were in a huge room walled by living plants. Above them, past the tangled branches of the oaks, stretched a perfect circle of darkening twilight sky about seventy feet across. The lush turf formed a dense, soft carpet underneath, and small white field lilies sprang above it on long, thin stalks, like tiny stars scattered across a dark green sky.
Speechless, Kate and Emily stood and looked around. This was a silent place. No birds sang in the branches of the great trees, and Emily found no bugs crawling in the grass beneath. Slowly they wandered to the very middle of the twilit circle and dropped down onto the inviting turf.
"Do you think the druids built this place?" asked Emily.
"No." Kate knew that this was no ruined monument to a dead religion. The circle was alive and aware. It exerted a magical force that welcomed and comforted her, as if good people had arranged a place for her security and care.
"But if the druids didn't make it, who did?"
"I don't know, Em," Kate said thoughtfully. "Perhaps our ancestors did. I feel so much more at home here than I do up at the Hall. And just imagine how the stars must look from here! Let's stay a little while longer and watch them come out."
As night fell on the tree circle, the stars shone in the round ceiling of sky over their heads. Kate gazed, enchanted, at the brilliant lights hanging above her. She had always had a deep love of the stars. She sometimes felt that if it hadn't been for them, she never could have stood the loss of her parents. As long as she had the stars, she would never be alone. Even when she wasn't looking at them, she could feel their gentle radiance in her mind. They had never seemed as beautiful as they did tonight. One by one they emerged until the ebony sky was full, and the glittering net shimmered over their heads.
"We'd better go back," warned Emily, thinking about what her worried aunts would say. They crossed to the enormous trees, now black in their own deep shadows, and slipped between them to find the forest path again. It took some time before they hit upon it in the meager, dappled starlight. As they walked slowly homeward in the darkness, Kate tried to remember the beauty of the stars, but a vague presence intruded on her thoughts. She began to peer into the shadows. She couldn't hear or see anyone, but she was sure someone was there. Kate rambled in the late twilight as often as she was allowed, and she had never been afraid before, but now she held her sister's hand tightly.
"What's wrong with you?" demanded Emily. "You're pinching me. We're not lost, you know. I can find the way home."
Kate stared desperately back into the forest. "Em, something's watching us!" she whispered.
"Oh?" asked Emily, very interested. "What? Where?" She turned around and peered unsuccessfully into the deep gloom.
"I don't know," murmured her sister. "It followed us down the path. I can't see it, but it can see us. Can't you feel it?"
"No," replied Emily with a shrug. "It's probably just a fox. Come on, Kate, we'll get in trouble." And she towed her preoccupied sister across the Lodge lawn. At the door, Kate stopped and looked back. The heavy shadows under every tree seemed full of menace. Once she was in the house, the feeling left her, but it came back a little later as they talked in the parlor. The great-aunts never drew the heavy curtains. Kate stared suspiciously at one gauze-covered window after another. She even rose and looked out into the dark night, but there was nothing there that her eyes could see. After a few minutes of this restlessness, her great-aunts began to watch her in some surprise. Embarrassed, she excused herself and went up to bed.
Nighttime became an ordeal for Kate after this. Sometimes she would be free of the feeling until bedtime, when she would begin to pace and fret under the conviction that something was watching her. She, who had always loved the stars, began to avoid looking out the windows after dark. Even in her bedroom on the second floor, she would wake in the night, uneasy. She would lie as still as she could under the covers, peering around the room at the darkness, and she began to have exhausting nightmares. When Kate tried to explain her feeling to her great-aunts, they laughed at first and then looked puzzled. Hallow Hill was so remote that no one ever came or went across its grounds. The aunts never even locked the doors.
Prim watched Kate with concern and decided that both girls needed more to do. They had been through a great deal, and they had too much time to dwell on it. She had already talked to the girls about the sorts of lessons they had learned and had found Kate to be shockingly overeducated. Kate's father, seeing in his daughter a real intellectual enthusiasm, had taught most of her lessons himself. Both father and daughter were fired with a love of literature, and they had spent hours reading and discussing books together. Aunt Prim was appalled.
"I think it's sweet that she spent so much time with her father," said Celia.
"Well, that's where her case of nerves has come from," declared Prim. "All that book reading, all that flowery poetry. It's enough to make any girl flighty and high-strung. Why, she's old enough to have a family of her own by now, and she's never been out in society. If you ask me, Celia, these girls have been neglected. No man knows how to raise proper ladies."
Prim began teaching the girls practical skills, such as how to plan meals, keep household accounts, and manage servants. Over time, she and Celia observed with satisfaction that Kate was settling down. It is true that Kate slept more soundly at night because she was busier during the day, but she continued to be haunted by the powerful feeling that something was watching her. She couldn't avoid it or ignore it, so she just kept her worry a secret from her aunts. She could tell that it did nothing but upset them.
Hugh Roberts didn't take the call at all well. He had no patience with fashions and parties. He didn't see any good reason why the important pursuits of the mature should be set aside to allow the young a chance to make fools of themselves. He paced up and down the room as he and Prim argued. At one point he turned angrily on Kate herself.
"Are you tired of country life already?" he demanded. "You can't wait to go off skipping and gossiping with a whole bevy of brainless belles?" Kate wasn't in the least tired of country life, though she did find the thought of society parties a bit thrilling. She didn't say this to her angry guardian, but maybe he saw it in her face. If so, it did nothing to improve his temper.
After the unpleasant interview, Aunt Prim hurried off to speak to Mrs. Bigelow, the housekeeper, leaving Kate to wander the Hall alone. This activity never failed to fill Kate with uneasiness. The Hall might belong to her, but it never seemed to want her. She was nothing but an intruder here.