The Snow Spider Trilogy. Jenny Nimmo

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СКАЧАТЬ he reached his grandmother’s cottage the rain suddenly stopped and, beneath the clouds, an eerie yellow light crept across the horizon. The dripping trees stood black against the sky and the only sounds came from innumerable streams gushing down the mountainside.

      There was no light in Nain’s cottage. Gwyn knocked but there was no reply. He opened the door and looked in. His grandmother’s room was cold and dark. There was something dreadfully wrong about the place, an oppressive stillness that frightened him. He turned on the light and saw what it was.

      Beneath a grey veil of ashes, Nain’s treasures lay in ruins. Pictures hung at crazy angles round the room, and once-bright scarves dropped in colourless shreds. The canary lay motionless at the bottom of its cage, and all about the floor were fragments of glass, books ripped and spoiled, shattered beads and dying plants.

      Some terrible element had crushed and abused everything in the room that was a part of his grandmother. Every object that she had chosen, nurtured and loved, had been destroyed.

      Beside the dead fire from where the flying ashes had scattered, Nain sat huddled in a chair. She seemed older, smaller than before. There were ashes in her black hair and her face was grey.

      Gwyn stepped slowly over the broken possessions until he stood beside his grandmother. ‘What has happened, Nain?’ he asked. ‘What has been here?’

      Nain looked up at him and her black eyes narrowed. ‘You know very well, Gwydion Gwyn,’ she said. ‘You know and I know what you have done. You mad, bad magician!’

      ‘What have I done, Nain?’ Even as he asked the question, Gwyn knew what the answer would be.

      ‘You let it go! My great-great-grandmother trusted me, and I trusted you. You have failed us, Gwydion Gwyn!’

      ‘You mean the broken horse, don’t you?’ Gwyn cried defiantly. ‘Well, say so then! Speak its name! It was all I had. Arianwen has gone, drowned perhaps, and I had to get her back. Eirlys said I must!’

      ‘But why the horse? Why the horse?’ Nain rose out of her chair and her voice rose with her. ‘Didn’t I tell you to keep it safe? Never to let it go? The spider would have returned to you. A creature like that could never die. She belongs to you and you can get her when you want to, if you really try.’

      ‘I didn’t know,’ said Gwyn. ‘And I didn’t mean to let the horse go. The wind took it. What is it, anyway, that I have released? And how can I stop it?’

      ‘Only you can find that out, Gwydion Gwyn,’ his grandmother replied. ‘And I am afraid for you. It is a strong and dreadful thing that you must capture!’

      ‘But didn’t you see it? It was here. Why did it do this to your room?’

      ‘Ah!’ Nain sank back into her chair. ‘I tried to stop it, see. When I heard that noise in the air, and all the birds stopped singing; when the hail began to batter the land and the trees trembled, then I knew what you had done. So I went to my great-great-grandmother’s books and I tried to find out how to stop it.’ Her voice sank to a whisper. ‘I burnt leaves in a bowl, and some bones and berries, and I began to sing. But it knew, didn’t it? It knew what I was doing and it came in through the door and knocked me down. It smashed my bowl and blew out the fire. So angry it was. It roared round the room and broke everything in its way, and then it went!’

      ‘And didn’t you see anything?’

      ‘Nothing! It was in the wind, wasn’t it?’

      Gwyn was silent. He was terrified of the thing that he had to face, but determined to make reparation. ‘I’ll help you clean up, Nain,’ he said.

      ‘Leave it to me!’ she snapped. ‘They’ll be needing you at home.’

      But Gwyn refused to go until he had helped his grandmother to sweep the debris from the floor. They gathered the dying plants and put them in water, dusted the furniture and straightened the pictures. Gwyn picked up the torn pages and replaced them in the books, before his grandmother tenderly arranged them into piles again. He sifted out the broken china and she put it in order, ready for glueing. After a while the room began to come to life again. But the canary still lay quiet at the bottom of its cage, its neck bent and its eyes closed.

      ‘It could do this?’ Gwyn asked, staring at the broken bird.

      ‘It could do worse,’ Nain replied. ‘Go on now! And take this.’ From beneath the cushion on which she had been sitting, she withdrew the black book. ‘I kept one thing safe, you see,’ she said. ‘I knew you would need it.’

      It was dark when he left the cottage. The water was not so deep and the thunder had rolled away, but there was a strange turbulence in the air that disturbed him.

      He was relieved to see that the lights had come on again in the farmhouse. It looked safe and welcoming. His father met him at the door, ‘Did you see the girl?’ he asked.

      Before Gwyn could reply his mother said, ‘Why were you so long? What happened?’

      ‘I had to help Nain,’ he explained, and would have said more if his father had not interrupted again.

      ‘Did you see the girl?’ he demanded anxiously.

      ‘The girl? Eirlys? No, I didn’t see her,’ Gwyn said.

      ‘Where is she then?’ His father sprang past him and strode across the lawn to where the Land Rover waited in its shed.

      ‘The Herberts rang,’ he shouted. ‘They said she left two hours ago. Slipped out of the house into the storm. Came to see if you were well, they thought, because you weren’t at school!’

      He disappeared into the shed and the Land Rover burst into life. It crashed down on to the track and rocked and roared its way through the mud.

      Two hours? Gwyn thought. And in the storm. Can she have fallen somewhere and I didn’t see?

      In the kitchen his mother had laid four soup bowls on the table. ‘Your dad’ll find her,’ she said, when she saw Gwyn’s worried frown.

      Gwyn was not so sure. There was that thing in the air. That awful something that had destroyed Nain’s room.

      They heard the Land Rover returning only minutes later and Gwyn ran to open the front door. His father was already beside the vehicle. The door was swinging wide and he was gathering something into his arms; something grey that was streaked with mud.

      Mr Griffiths walked through the gate and up the garden path, and as he came within the arc of light thrown out by the porch lantern, they saw the grey bundle. The girl’s pale hair was black with mud, her white face covered with smudges of brown, and she had lost her shoes.

      Gwyn held his breath. He realised that he had known the girl for a long, long time. What a dull magician he was, indeed, not to have understood, just because her hair was pale and her face white.

      ‘I found her in the lane,’ said Mr Griffiths, ‘just beside the Lloyds’ wall. I can’t think how they didn’t see her. She’s unconscious, the cold probably, but I can’t see any broken bones.’

      ‘I’ll ring Doctor Vaughan.’ Mrs Griffiths ran to the telephone in СКАЧАТЬ