Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor
looked as if he lived on horseback. To a boy like me he seemed very old,
being over twenty, and well-found in beard; but he was not more than
four-and-twenty, fresh and ruddy looking, with a short nose and keen
blue eyes, and a merry waggish jerk about him, as if the world were not
in earnest. Yet he had a sharp, stern way, like the crack of a pistol,
if anything misliked him; and we knew (for children see such things)
that it was safer to tickle than tackle him.
“Well, young uns, what be gaping at?” He gave pretty Annie a chuck on
the chin, and took me all in without winking.
“Your mare,” said I, standing stoutly up, being a tall boy now; “I never
saw such a beauty, sir. Will you let me have a ride of her?”
“Think thou couldst ride her, lad? She will have no burden but mine.
Thou couldst never ride her. Tut! I would be loath to kill thee.”
“Ride her!” I cried with the bravest scorn, for she looked so kind and
gentle; “there never was horse upon Exmoor foaled, but I could tackle in
half an hour. Only I never ride upon saddle. Take them leathers off of
her.”
He looked at me with a dry little whistle, and thrust his hands into his
breeches-pockets, and so grinned that I could not stand it. And Annie
laid hold of me in such a way that I was almost mad with her. And he
laughed, and approved her for doing so. And the worst of all was--he
said nothing.
“Get away, Annie, will you? Do you think I'm a fool, good sir! Only
trust me with her, and I will not override her.”
“For that I will go bail, my son. She is liker to override thee. But the
ground is soft to fall upon, after all this rain. Now come out into the
yard, young man, for the sake of your mother's cabbages. And the mellow
straw-bed will be softer for thee, since pride must have its fall. I
am thy mother's cousin, boy, and am going up to house. Tom Faggus is my
name, as everybody knows; and this is my young mare, Winnie.”
What a fool I must have been not to know it at once! Tom Faggus, the
great highwayman, and his young blood-mare, the strawberry! Already her
fame was noised abroad, nearly as much as her master's; and my longing
to ride her grew tenfold, but fear came at the back of it. Not that I
had the smallest fear of what the mare could do to me, by fair play and
horse-trickery, but that the glory of sitting upon her seemed to be too
great for me; especially as there were rumours abroad that she was not a
mare after all, but a witch. However, she looked like a filly all over,
and wonderfully beautiful, with her supple stride, and soft slope of
shoulder, and glossy coat beaded with water, and prominent eyes full of
docile fire. Whether this came from her Eastern blood of the Arabs newly
imported, and whether the cream-colour, mixed with our bay, led to
that bright strawberry tint, is certainly more than I can decide, being
chiefly acquaint with farm-horses. And these come of any colour and
form; you never can count what they will be, and are lucky to get four
legs to them.
Mr. Faggus gave his mare a wink, and she walked demurely after him, a
bright young thing, flowing over with life, yet dropping her soul to a
higher one, and led by love to anything; as the manner is of females,
when they know what is the best for them. Then Winnie trod lightly upon
the straw, because it had soft muck under it, and her delicate feet came
back again.
“Up for it still, boy, be ye?” Tom Faggus stopped, and the mare stopped
there; and they looked at me provokingly.
“Is she able to leap, sir? There is good take-off on this side of the
brook.”
Mr. Faggus laughed very quietly, turning round to Winnie so that she
might enter into it. And she, for her part, seemed to know exactly where
the fun lay.
“Good tumble-off, you mean, my boy. Well, there can be small harm to
thee. I am akin to thy family, and know the substance of their skulls.”
“Let me get up,” said I, waxing wroth, for reasons I cannot tell you,
because they are too manifold; “take off your saddle-bag things. I will
try not to squeeze her ribs in, unless she plays nonsense with me.”
Then Mr. Faggus was up on his mettle, at this proud speech of mine; and
John Fry was running up all the while, and Bill Dadds, and half a dozen.
Tom Faggus gave one glance around, and then dropped all regard for me.
The high repute of his mare was at stake, and what was my life compared
to it? Through my defiance, and stupid ways, here was I in a duello,
and my legs not come to their strength yet, and my arms as limp as a
herring.
Something of this occurred to him even in his wrath with me, for he
spoke very softly to the filly, who now could scarce subdue herself;
but she drew in her nostrils, and breathed to his breath and did all she
could to answer him.
“Not too hard, my dear,” he said: “let him gently down on the mixen.
That will be quite enough.” Then he turned the saddle off, and I was
up in a moment. She began at first so easily, and pricked her ears so
lovingly, and minced about as if pleased to find so light a weight upon
her, that I thought she knew I could ride a little, and feared to show
any capers. “Gee wug, Polly!” cried I, for all the men were now looking
on, being then at the leaving-off time: “Gee wug, Polly, and show what
thou be'est made of.” With that I plugged my heels into her, and Billy
Dadds flung his hat up.
Nevertheless, she outraged not, though her eyes were frightening Annie,
and John Fry took a pick to keep him safe; but she curbed to and fro
with her strong forearms rising like springs ingathered, waiting and
quivering grievously, and beginning to sweat about it. Then her master
gave a shrill clear whistle, when her ears were bent towards him, and I
felt her form beneath me gathering up like whalebone, and her hind-legs
coming under her, and I knew that I was in for it.
First she reared upright in the air, and struck me full on the nose with
her comb, till I bled worse than Robin Snell made me; and then down
with her fore-feet deep in the straw, and her hind-feet going to heaven.
Finding me stick to her still like wax, for my mettle was up as hers
was, away she flew with me swifter than ever I went before, or since, I
trow. She drove full-head at the cobwall--“Oh, Jack, slip off,” screamed
Annie--then she turned like light, when I thought to crush her, and
ground my left knee against it. “Mux me,” I cried, for my breeches were
broken, and short words went the furthest--“if you kill me, you shall
die with me.” Then she took the court-yard gate at a leap, knocking my
words between my teeth, and then right over a quick set hedge, as if the
sky were a breath to her; and away for the water-meadows, while I lay
on her neck like a child at the breast and wished I had never been
born. Straight away, all in the front of the wind, and scattering clouds
around her, all I knew of the speed we made was the frightful flash of
her shoulders, and her mane like trees in a tempest. I felt the earth
under us rushing away, and the air left far behind us, and my breath
came and went, and I prayed to God, and was sorry to be so late of it.
All the long swift while, without power of thought, I clung to her crest
and shoulders, and dug my nails into her creases, and my toes into her
flank-part, and was proud of holding on so long, though sure of being
beaten. Then in her fury at feeling me still, she rushed at another
device for it, and leaped the wide water-trough sideways across, to and
fro, till no breath was left in me. The hazel-boughs took me too hard
in the face, and the tall dog-briers got hold of me, and the ache of
my back was like crimping a fish; till I longed to give up, thoroughly
beaten, and lie there and die in the cresses. But there came a shrill
whistle from up the home-hill, where the people had hurried to watch us;
and the mare stopped as if with a bullet, then set off for home with
the speed of a swallow, and going as smoothly and silently. I never had
dreamed of such delicate motion, fluent, and graceful, and ambient,
soft as the breeze flitting over the flowers, but swift as the summer
lightning. I sat up again, but my strength was all spent, and no time
left to recover it, and though she rose at our gate like a bird, I
tumbled off into the mixen.
CHAPTER XI
TOM DESERVES HIS SUPPER
“Well done, lad,” Mr. Faggus said good naturedly; for all were now
gathered round me, as I rose from the ground, somewhat tottering, and
miry, and crest-fallen, but otherwise none the worse (having fallen
upon my head, which is of uncommon substance); nevertheless John Fry was
laughing, so that I longed to clout his ears for him; “Not at all bad
work, my boy; we may teach you to ride by-and-by, I see; I thought not
to see you stick on so long--”
“I should have stuck on much longer, sir, if her sides had not been wet.
She was so slippery--”
“Boy, thou art right. She hath given many the slip. Ha, ha! Vex not,
Jack, that I laugh at thee. She is like a sweetheart to me, and better,
than any of them be. It would have gone to my heart if thou hadst
conquered. None but I can ride my Winnie mare.”
“Foul shame to thee then, Tom Faggus,” cried mother, coming up suddenly,
and speaking so that all were amazed, having never seen her wrathful;
“to put my boy, my boy, across her, as if his life were no more than
thine! The only son of his father, an honest man, and a quiet man, not
a roystering drunken robber! A man would have taken thy mad horse and
thee, and flung them both into horse-pond--ay, and what's more, I'll
have it done now, if a hair of his head is injured. Oh, my boy, my boy!
What could I do without thee? Put up the other arm, Johnny.” All the
time mother was scolding so, she was feeling me, and wiping me; while
Faggus tried to look greatly ashamed, having sense of the ways of women.
“Only look at his jacket, mother!” cried Annie; “and a shillingsworth
gone from his small-clothes!”
“What care I for his clothes, thou goose? Take that, and heed thine own
a bit.” And mother gave Annie a slap which sent her swinging up against
Mr. Faggus, and he caught her, and kissed and protected her, and she
looked at him very nicely, with great tears in her soft blue eyes. “Oh,
fie upon thee, fie upon thee!” cried mother (being yet more vexed with
him, because she had beaten Annie); “after all we have done for thee,
and saved thy worthless neck--and to try to kill my son for me! Never
more shall horse of thine enter stable here, since these be thy returns
to me. Small thanks to you, John Fry, I say, and you Bill Dadds, and you
Jem Slocomb, and all the rest of your coward lot; much you care for your
master's son! Afraid of that ugly beast yourselves, and you put a boy
just breeched upon him!”
“Wull, missus, what could us do?” began John; “Jan wudd goo, now wudd't
her, Jem? And how was us--”
“Jan indeed! Master John, if you please, to a lad of his years and
stature. And now, Tom Faggus, be off, if you please, and think yourself
lucky to go so; and if ever that horse comes into our yard, I'll
hamstring him myself if none of my cowards dare do it.”
Everybody looked at mother, to hear her talk like that, knowing how
quiet she was day by day and how pleasant to be cheated. And the men
began to shoulder their shovels, both so as to be away from her, and
to go and tell their wives of it. Winnie too was looking at her, being
pointed at so much, and wondering if she had done amiss. And then she
came to me, and trembled, and stooped her head, and asked my pardon, if
she had been too proud with me.
“Winnie shall stop here to-night,” said I, for Tom Faggus still said