The Pool of St. Branok (12 page)

“They are always against Albert,” said Frances.

“Yes, but they now think he and the Queen are considering their Russian relations rather than the country. The people want Palmerston and his gun-boat policy. You have to admit that it is not without its merits.”

I could see Matthew wavering. He would conform with Uncle Peter’s wishes. He always had. That was how he had got on. He had been made by Uncle Peter.

“The point is,” said my father, “is there going to be war?”

“I think it is almost certain. We shall have to go to Turkey’s aid. We shall have the French with us and we shall settle this matter very quickly and show the world that we are masters of it.”

“Aberdeen is against it,” said Matthew.

“Aberdeen is too weak. The people are clamoring for Palmerston. Mark my words, Palmerston will be back. We shall go to war. It is what the people want. Palmerston is the hero of the day.” He looked at Matthew sternly. “It is necessary to be on the winning side.”

So the conversation went on. Then we talked of Cornwall; and my father and Uncle Peter were in deep conversation about the estate. Aunt Amaryllis told us of the London scene, that she had recently been to the opera and that she hoped we would all go very soon.

But the talk did keep coming back to the possibility of war and that was really what was in everybody’s mind.

I lay in bed that night and thought about the evening. London always made an impact on me. It was not only the streets, which always seemed so alive in contrast to our country lanes. Perhaps it was the feeling that life here could never be dull. Something important was just about to happen, I always felt. That was probably the impression I had in this house and it was largely due to the impact of Uncle Peter’s personality.

Already I was aware of the impending disaster of war and I had seen opposite reactions to it; and what had impressed me was Uncle Peter’s control of Matthew, and as Matthew was one of those people who make our laws, I thought of Uncle Peter as a puppet master jerking his protégé in the way he must go. Matthew’s instincts were against war; but he was going to support it because Uncle Peter was jerking him.

It was so interesting that St Branok’s Pool seemed a long way away.

The days began to fly past. There was the visit to the opera which Aunt Amaryllis had promised us; we went riding in the Row; Jonnie was a constant companion. He had not yet completed his education but as he had decided to take up archaeology as a profession he would interrupt it to go to Greece for a period of practical study; and was at the moment preparing for it.

He usually spent his mornings in private study but in the afternoons he would be free and that was the time that he was in our company. I say our because Grace Gilmore seemed always to be with us.

In the mornings we often went shopping with my mother, Grace with us. Being in London, said my mother, gave us an opportunity to replenish our wardrobes. She and Grace liked to study the fashions in the shops and consult together. Grace was very knowledgeable about materials and styles.

Sometimes in the afternoon we rode in Rotten Row. It was not, of course, like riding at home. It was more like a parade; Jonnie, and occasionally Aunt Amaryllis, were with us and when they were they were constantly being greeted by people. Riding there was more like a social event.

I enjoyed very much walking in the Park which we did frequently. Jonnie or Geoffrey would accompany us. Sometimes we took Jack, who was wide-eyed with wonder at everything he saw and asked interminable questions.

The best times of all were with Jonnie and Grace. She and Jonnie had taken quite a liking to each other. She was so interested in everything and she asked all sorts of intelligent questions about archaeology; he had lent her books on the subject.

I used to love to sit by the Serpentine in blissful forgetfulness of that terrible day which during the visit to London seemed so far from what I thought of as the scene of the crime. It had faded into the past and was of far less significance than it had been in Cornwall.

There was one day, I remember, when we talked of Ben, that brought it back a little, for I had not seen Ben since it happened. I had been aware of him at my bedside, I supposed, but that was all.

“You remember Benedict, Angelet,” said Jonnie one day.

“Oh yes, I remember him.”

“Of course you do. Do you know, Miss Gilmore, I was quite jealous of Benedict at one time. Angelet used to be my particular friend and when he came along she completely forgot me.”

“Who is he exactly?” asked Grace. “I know he was at Cador for a while but I was never quite sure.”

“He took a bit of explaining,” said Jonnie. “He’s my grandfather’s grandson. I suppose that makes him a cousin. What complicated relationships we have in our family.”

“Perhaps that’s why you are rather complicated people,” said Grace.

“That must be the answer. Do you know, I never thought of that.”

“I wonder if he has found gold and become rich,” I said.

Jonnie said to Grace: “That was what he went to Australia to find. Gold! Do you remember some time ago there was a great deal of comment about the goldfields of Australia. A place called Ballarat, I believe. Well, Benedict just thought he would like a share of it and he went in search of his fortune.”

“I expect if he had found gold he would have been delighted to let us know,” I said.

“Yes, I’m sure of that, too,” agreed Jonnie. “Benedict was not one to hide his light under a bushel.”

I wished they wouldn’t talk of him. They were bringing it all back to me again.

“Perhaps he is having a hard time,” I suggested.

“Well, I should think it is not a very easy life … until one strikes gold.”

“He sounds a very interesting young man,” said Grace. “I remember him only slightly.”

“He is rather overpowering, wouldn’t you say, Angelet,” said Jonnie. “In fact he is very much like my grandfather.”

“I see what you mean,” said Grace. “Tell me, when are you planning to go to Greece?”

“Next spring, I think.”

“How very exciting! I think it must be one of the most thrilling things one can do … to discover the past, for that is what it is.”

“Exactly,” agreed Jonnie. “Then I hope to get to Pompeii. I feel there is a good deal to discover there. People have explored a little. I have been there once … two years ago. They have worked on it … spasmodically. There is no system, though. I believe work on it would be very rewarding.”

“How fascinating,” cried Grace rapturously. “It was the volcano which erupted, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but there was a series of earthquakes before that. It was the shocks which set Vesuvius erupting and sending out those ashes and hot stones pelting down on the cities and utterly destroying them.”

Grace shivered. “It makes you realize how uncertain life is.”

“It does indeed. Well, I intend to get out there and work. I shall do everything I can to make that possible. There is so much to do, I am sure we can uncover a whole city.”

“How did they know there was a city there?” I asked.

“The walls of the amphitheater marked the spot, but it was just a lot of hardened mud with sparse grass on it … enough though to show that there had been a city there. As far back as the sixteenth century they came upon ancient buildings. There have been excavations but they have never been carried out in a scientific way. It’s time they were. Then Heaven knows what treasures we shall uncover.”

“I think it must be a wonderful profession,” said Grace enthusiastically. “I’d love to be concerned in it.”

“It’s hard work … digging and all that.”

“I’m strong.”

“I tell you what; I’ll lend you some more books.”

“Oh will you?”

“Of course.”

He did and soon they were involved in intelligent discussions and I felt rather left out. It was the first time I had been made aware that I was still a child and Jonnie and Grace were adults. She must have been four or possibly five years older than he was. I liked Grace very much but I did wish that she was not always present when we went on our rides and walks. I also wished that she were not quite so clever; she seemed to have acquired quite an understanding of archaeology which she had certainly not had when she came to London.

I remember one day when we were walking back to the house we encountered a band of men walking along carrying banners. We stood watching them. They were singing something. It was hard to decipher but Jonnie translated for me. It was:

You jolly old Turk, now go to work

And show the Bear your power.

It is rumored over Britain’s Isle

That A is in the Tower

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“Well,” said Jonnie, “the people are all for war. People always are if the war is taking place elsewhere. They like to hear of the glory but they would certainly not want to suffer the discomforts. This war is far away. Therefore they are all for it. Palmerston is all for making England the greatest power in the world. If anyone utters the mildest word against us he sends out the gunboats to parade along their coasts, to show them our power. The people like it. They love Old Pam as they call him. He’s colorful. Of course he’s very old now, but in his youth he was a rake. I believe he may still be. Funnily enough the people like that. They don’t want a good man; they want a colorful one. Poor old Aberdeen, with his pacific policies, is dull. The fact is the people are blaming the Queen and Prince Albert for our reluctance to go to war. It is quite unfair. They say the Russians are the Queen’s relations and she cares more for them than for England. But they prefer to blame Albert, so they are calling him Traitor.”

“And he is the A who is rumored to be in the Tower?” said Grace.

“That’s so. But it is all nonsense. Albert is by no means a prisoner. But I daresay war will be declared on Russia sooner or later.”

The next day an article appeared in
The Morning Post
written by Mr. Gladstone setting out the Prince’s virtues and commenting on the folly of blaming him. John Russell and Benjamin Disraeli made speeches about him in the Houses of Parliament—the latter’s was brilliant; and this with Mr. Gladstone’s article made a deep impression on the people.

And still the threat of war hung in the air.

An ultimatum was sent to Russia to the effect that if they did not return the Danube principalities which they had annexed we should declare war.

When no answer was received, there was only one action the government could take.

We were at war with Russia.

It was amazing how quickly people’s views could change. Matthew was now in full agreement with the declaration. This was probably due to Uncle Peter’s influence. But Jonnie, too, had changed his mind. He was now for teaching the Russians a lesson, and saving little Turkey from the bully.

War fever swept over the country. It would all be over in a few weeks, they said. The Russians would soon see what happened to those who thought they could bully their neighbors.

They would find they had to face the wrath of powerful Britain.

That was April and in May we returned to Cornwall. Life settled down to normality. There was little talk down there about the tension between Turkey and Russia. It was all a matter of whether there would be a good harvest this year and whether the rain would keep off until Midsummer’s Eve.

The rain did keep off for that important occasion and as if to make up for it it began to pour; and as often in Cornwall, as Mrs. Penlock said, once it started it did not know how to stop.

There was speculation as to whether the Tamar would overflow its banks; and the possibility of high tides was considered with some apprehension. Some of the fields were flooded and there was consternation among the farmers.

Then one day I heard disquietening news.

The Pencarrons were coming to dinner and my mother had asked me to go down to remind Mrs. Penlock that Mr. Pencarron could not take any dish with pilchards in it. Mrs. Penlock was very fond of starting a meal with a special dish of which she was very proud and even when my mother had not suggested it, she had a habit of slipping it in. The fish was served with oil and lemon and some ingredient which Mrs. Penlock would not divulge. “Fair Maids” was what she called it which, I had discovered, was her version of
Fumadoe—
which meant “Fit for a Spanish Don,” and reminded us that there was a certain Spanish element in the Duchy after the defeat of the Spanish Armada when the galleons had been wrecked along our coast and many Spaniards found refuge here.

When I arrived in the kitchen a great deal of excited talk was going on.

Mrs. Penlock was saying: “Stands to reason. People don’t invent such things. They’m handed down … generation to generation. I reckon ’tis true then and some ’as heard them bells.”

I felt that twinge of fear which I always had when people referred to the pool.

“Truth in what?” I demanded.

“ ’Tis all this rain we’m ’aving. That there pool … St Branok’s you know. ’Tas overflowed. Well, stands to reason … all this rain. ’Tas washed away the soil and they do say ’tis true. There be the remains of an old monastery … bits of rock and things sticking out of the ground. They’m saying you can see it … clear as daylight … and it’s a wall … an old stone wall.”

“You mean … right there by the pool?”

“That’s where I do mean. It be all this rain … loosens the soil, it do. And there be this bit of a wall, they do say. ’Tis unmistakable.”

I told her about the pilchards.

“There’s some as don’t know what’s good for ’em,” she grumbled. “I do reckon them Fair Maids be a real and proper way to start a meal. Gives you appetite, they do say, and they’m right. No bones about it.”

“Well, not for Mr. Pencarron.”

I wanted to ask her more about the pool but I was afraid to; and as soon as I could I rode out there.

The ground was very wet and soggy. I saw two people standing close to the water and recognized one as John Gurney, the other was his son. They farmed on the Cador estate.

I rode up to them.

“I have heard that a wall has been exposed,” I said.