03.5 Visitors for the Chalet School (23 page)

Mademoiselle then went on to announce that, since today they had “
so schönes Wetter
“, there would be no lessons until the afternoon. Instead everyone would go on a long walk up the Tiern valley; and they must now hasten with their bedmaking and tidying in order to be ready to leave at half-past nine.

She deliberately made no mention of the King’s illness, for the staff had agreed that everything should be kept as casual as possible. “We don’t want any fuss, for Elisaveta’s sake,” Miss Maynard had said when the matter was being discussed before breakfast. “She might enjoy the excitement of a big farewell scene at the time. But she’ll have a long day ahead of her. And I gather it’s a tiring journey to Belsornia at the best of times. It does seem a bit of a shame, though, that the girls have to miss all the fun of the sleigh’s arrival.”

“I shouldn’t worry about that,” Miss Wilson said cheerfully. “You just give thanks that it doesn’t look like snow today!”

Punctually at nine-thirty the girls departed. And by the time Joey and Elisaveta arrived downstairs, to wait with Miss Maynard in the front classroom, the chalet was unwontedly silent.

“I can’t think when I’ve ever – ever – had to wear so many clothes,” Joey complained, as she watched impatiently at the window for the sleigh’s arrival. “I feel like all the
plumeaus
in Austria rolled into one giant sausage.”

“And then tied round with shawls. Me too!” Elisaveta agreed. She looked noticeably pale this morning, but appeared to be in good spirits.

“At least,” Joey went on, “nobody can possibly make us put on one single thing more. We would simply¾”

But at that moment the door opened and Matron marched in, a large silk scarf in her hand. “Now Elisaveta

– you are to wear this over your nose and mouth throughout the journey,” she announced to the startled Princess. “No argument, please. We have strict orders from Dr Russell. No – you need not put it on yet. But

– if you, Miss Maynard, would be good enough – I will show you how it is to be fastened. I can’t stay to do it myself, too much to get through this morning!”

“But, Matron,” Elisaveta protested feebly. “With that thing tied round my mouth, I shall not be able to speak at all. It will be like a gag!”

“And that, my dear young lady, is part of the idea.” Matron looked grimly amused, as she demonstrated how the scarf was to be held in place. “All that cold air could set your bronchitis off again. And talking would increase the amount of air going into your throat and chest. So please be a sensible girl and remain as silent as possible on the journey.”

“Never mind, Elisaveta, I’m sure Joey can manage to make up for your silence,” Miss Maynard said with a twinkle.

But Joey affected not to hear. “Tell you what, Veta, we can still talk to you, and you can always nod or shake your head. Oh, I do wish they’d hurry up. I’m dying to see the sleigh.”

They did not have long to wait. A few minutes later the tinkling of bells drew everyone to the window, to watch the sleigh as it skimmed across the snow towards the front door, with Fritzel proudly ensconced on the driver’s seat.

“What a lovely pony!” Joey exclaimed.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Elisaveta agreed. “But actually, Jo, he is not a pony. That is a Haflinger, and I think they are really horses. He’ll make nothing of pulling the four of us.”

“Well, whatever he is, he’s got the most glorious chestnut coat. And do all Haffle – Haflingers, did you say? – have those pale blond manes and tails? Oh, sorry, Miss Maynard. Yes, I’m ready.”

“There you are then, Elisaveta.” Miss Maynard had been rapidly pinning the silk scarf in place. “Now, if
you
will wait here for Fritzel, Joey and I will go and get ourselves installed.”

Meanwhile, Rosa (now in charge of the Chalet School kitchen, since Marie Pfeifen’s departure to the Sonnalpe) and her assistant, Luise, were busy carrying out a large supply of hot bricks, to be placed in the bottom of the sleigh to keep the passengers’ feet warm. Next, they brought a vast pile of rugs and blankets, and a flask of the milky coffee the girls all loved.

Mademoiselle emerged briefly from her study and stationed herself at the window, ready to wave goodbye.

In no time at all, Miss Maynard and Joey had seated themselves opposite one another in the back of the sleigh; while Fritzel, having first carried Elisaveta carefully down the snow-covered path, helped her to squeeze into the space between them.

“No one’s going to let us die of cold, that’s plain,” Joey gasped as the rugs were piled on top of them.

“I think we shall be glad of it,” Miss Maynard said. “There’s quite a strong wind today. Now, have you enough room, Elisaveta? Goodbye then, Rosa.
Wiedersehn,
Luise.”

To a renewed obligato from the bells that hung round the horse’s collar, they were off!

“Oh, isn’t this too absolutely marvellous!” Joey gazed entranced at the fairytale landscape: the pine woods darkly mysterious, the mountains regal in their snowy raiment, and the lake a glistening diamond in the morning sunshine. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything in the world!” She sat back, reveling in the swift, almost noiseless glide of the sleigh along the frozen lake path. For a while the only sounds to be heard, apart from the gaily chiming bells, were the hiss of the sleigh’s iron-clad runners, the curiously muted thud of the hooves as the horse trotted gallantly along and, occasionally, a tiny clang as an icicle fell from one of the trees.

“You’d think there’d be more noise from the horse’s hooves, wouldn’t you?” Joey said, after there had been a long contented silence. “I’d always thought they’d ring out on the slow. I’m sure they did when we were sleigh-riding in Innsbruck. What is it, Veta?” for the Princess was shaking her head.

“I rather think,” Miss Maynard said, “that Elisaveta means this horse probably isn’t shod.” She exchanged glances with the Princess, who nodded. “Round here, I believe they often leave horses unshod at this time of year. They probably manage better in the snow without shoes.”

Once again Elisaveta was nodding.

“How ever do you know so much about horses, Miss Maynard?” Joey asked admiringly. Elisaveta’s knowledge she took for granted, having seen the extent of the Belsornian royal stables.

“Oh, I used to take quite an interest in horses in my youth,” Miss Maynard informed her. “And people who live in the New Forest see quite a lot of ponies of all kinds, as I’m sure you’ll remember from your visits to Pretty Maids. Goodness me, here we are at Seespitz already!”

“But which way are we going?” Joey looked round, puzzled. “This isn’t the path to Spärtz, is it?”

They were now well past the Seespitz
Gasthof
and were swinging round to the right, roughly in the direction of Eben. “The sleigh won’t go by the footpath, Joey. It would be too narrow, and there are corkscrew bends in places,” Miss Maynard pointed out. “We must be going by the road the motor-cars use.”

“On the few occasions there are any,” Joey said, laughing. “But I suppose the farm carts use it too.” She looked up at the sky, which was showing in a pale blue patchwork through the trees above them, for the sleigh had now entered the woods that lie between Torteswald and Eben. “I say, the wind’s getting up a bit, isn’t it?” – Jo drew her hands from under the enveloping rugs and, whipping off one glove, held up a finger.

“Yes – it’s coming from the north like anything.”

“Joey!” Miss Maynard said sharply. “Put your glove on again this minute. You really must try to remember you are fifteen now, not five. Do you want to get your fingers frozen?”

The mistress looked round anxiously, for the wind did indeed seem to have risen considerably. Fritzel had appeared so sure there would be no more snow that morning, but it was a worrying possibility.

For a few moments no one spoke; even Joey being subdued by Miss Maynard’s unusually cutting rebuke.

The progress of horse and sleigh was still almost noiseless. But a moment later the intense silence of the woods was disturbed by a new sound – a low and somehow sinister moaning of the wind, gusting through the pine trees.

For some reason she could not have explained, Joey felt suddenly frightened. Elisaveta clearly was affected too, for her hand clutched Joey’s under the rugs, and she gazed round, her eyes wide with apprehension. And then, without the smallest warning, the sleigh shuddered to a halt. Fritzel was all but thrown off the driver’s seat. And, had the three passengers not been so tightly wedged together, they would have suffered the same fate.

Fritzel quickly leapt down to inspect the road in front of them. But, after searching carefully for some yards ahead, he returned, thoroughly puzzled, to say he could find nothing untoward. He hurriedly resumed his seat, and signalled to the horse to move on. To everyone’s astonishment, and Fritzel’s extreme annoyance, the animal refused to budge. Its ears were laid back, its nostrils flaring, and it began obstinately digging in its hooves. Nothing, it seemed, could induce the Haflinger to take one single step forward. Fritzel tried talking gently to it. He produced a carrot from his pocket and tried to cajole the animal into moving. He shouted at it – and shook the reins violently. He attempted with all his considerable strength to drag it forward. At last, completely exasperated and swearing under his breath in, fortunately, incomprehensible patois, he rushed to one of the nearest trees, ripped a branch from it, and advanced on the horse, plainly about to belabour it around the hindquarters. At this, Elisaveta wrenched herself to her feet; and, tearing the scarf from her mouth, she all but yelled, “No, Fritzel, no! You must not! Please, please, Miss Maynard, do not let him beat the horse. It is like Balaam’s ass in the Bible – I am sure it knows.”

At an urgent word from Miss Maynard, Fritzel desisted, and stood looking a picture of bewilderment and frustration; while Elisaveta sank down on the bench. Her brown eyes still flashed with the intensity of her feelings, but the colour that had flooded her cheeks was already fading.

“Elisaveta, my dear child, what can you mean?” Miss Maynard looked nearly as bewildered as Fritzel. “He is only trying to get…”

But Joey cut in swiftly: “Miss Maynard – doesn’t Veta mean the horse could know something we¾” In mid-sentence, Joey was stopped by an ominous creaking sound, which grew rapidly in volume. And before their eyes a giant pine tree began, with what seemed incredibly slowness, to fall straight across the road, barely twenty yards in front of them. A dull thud echoed through the wood as the tree finally subsided on the ground, its branches shuddering into stillness through a haze of snowflakes.

For fully half a minute no one spoke. Fritzel stood, now gently patting the horse, which was still shivering violently. The tree passengers in the sleigh sat motionless.

Joey, characteristically, was the first to recover. “I vote we all buy that horse the biggest bag of sugar-cubes he’s ever seen,” she said, a little shakily.

“We’d have been in a nasty mess now without him. That pine must have been rotten all through.” Joey gazed with a shudder at the monster tree lying in their path. “It couldn’t have been just the wind.”

“Don’t let’s bother with the reasons, Jo.” Miss Maynard, making an effort to sound calmer than she felt, got to her feet. “Now, I must have a word with Fritzel. No, you stay here. And, Joey, please will you tie Elisaveta’s scarf on again.” She quickly got down from the sleigh, and began in her fluent German to discuss their predicament with Fritzel. Things, he told her, could have been worse; they were not far from Eben and could be back there in a few minutes. Then the young ladies could rest at the little
Wirtshaus
opposite St Nothburga’s church, while he went off and found a couple of sturdy friends to help him pull the tree off the road.

“But surely,” Joey said, as the sleigh skimmed rapidly back to Eben, with the horse now trotting happily once more, “the
Wirtshaus
won’t be open at this time of year?”

“No, I don’t suppose it will, Jo,” Miss Maynard agreed. “But Fritzel is sure they’ll let us come inside and wait there for the road to be cleared. They may be able to give us some coffee. But even if they can’t, don’t forget that we have a flask with us.”

“Of course – three cheers for Matron! And, Elisaveta,” Joey gave the Princess a mammoth nudge, “you’ll be able to get that scarf off for a bit. How jolly!”

In the end the clearing of the road was accomplished with remarkable speed – Fritzel luckily having had to go no further than the
Wirtshaus
to find two strong volunteers to assist him with moving the tree. And, to Miss Maynard’s vast relief, the party was able to set off again in less than an hour. By this time Elisaveta was beginning to look thoroughly weary. And during most of the remaining journey to Spärtz she dozed quietly in the sleigh.

It was also a great relief to find, when at last they reached the Alte Toleranz, the Captain Trevillion and Alette had not yet arrived, although they had sent a message to say they expected to be in Spärtz by about one o’clock. Miss Maynard promptly arranged for a bedroom to be prepared; and she then insisted that both Elisaveta and Joey should lie down and rest until the Princess’s escorts arrived. “We can all have
Mittagessen
together then,” she said, as she took the girls up the quaint old staircase to their room. “And there will be ample time afterwards for Joey and me to get back to Briesau before dark.”

“To my mind, the last part was just a bit of an anti-climax,” Joey confided to her friends that evening, when, safely back at school, she was regaling them with a colourful account of the day’s adventures.

“Was Elisaveta all right?” Frieda asked anxiously. “She must have been dreadfully frightened when the tree fell down.”

“Believe you me, we all were,” Joey shook her head reminiscently. “I don’t mind telling you I was shaking all over, and I could feel that Veta was, too. It was such a horribly near thing.”

“I am sure that St Nothburga must have been looking after you all,” Marie von Eschenau said in a low voice. “She is known to protect travelers round Eben.”

Jo looked at her curiously, a strange expression in her dark eyes. “Do you know, Marie, that’s exactly what Elisaveta said afterwards. I was saying how the horse had saved us all – and of course he did. But Veta said we must also say a special thank-you to St Nothburga, for holding the horse and sleigh back – like keeping her sickle in the air. And she made us all – Elisaveta, I mean – go over to the little church and light a candle at St Nothburga’s shrine. Well, I wonder…”