The House of Arden by E. Nesbit (first ebook reader .txt) 📕

“About the castle,” said Edred, “Can we get in and look at it?”

“I’ve got the keys,” said the old man, and put his hand in at his door and reached them from a nail.

“I s’pose no one lives there?” said Elfrida.

“Not now,” said the old man, coming back along the garden path. “Lord Arden, he died a fortnight ago come Tuesday, and the place is shut up till the new lord’s found.”

“I wish I was the new lord,” said Edred, as they followed the old man along the lane.

“An’ how old might you be?” the old man asked.

“I’m ten nearly. It’s my birthday tomorrow,” said Edred. “How old are you?”

“Getting on for eighty. I’ve seen a deal in my time. If you was the young lord you’d have a chance none of the rest of them ever had⁠—you being the age you are.”

“What sort of chance?”

“Why,” said the old man, “don’t you know the saying? I thought everyone knowed it hereabouts.”

“What saying?”

“I ain’t got the wind for saying and walking too,” said the old man, and stopped; “leastways, not potery.” He drew a deep breath and said⁠—

“When Arden’s lord still lacketh ten
And may not see his nine again,
Let Arden stand as Arden may
On Arden Knoll at death of day.
If he have skill to say the spell
He shall find the treasure, and all be well!”

“I say!” said both the children. “And where’s Arden Knoll?” Edred asked.

“Up yonder.” He pointed to the mound where they had had lunch.

Elfrida inquired, “What treasure?”

But that question was not answered⁠—then.

“If I’m to talk I must set me down,” said the old man. “Shall we set down here, or set down inside of the castle?”

Two curiosities struggled, and the stronger won. “In the castle,” said the children.

So it was in the castle, on a pillar fallen from one of the chapel arches, that the old man sat down and waited. When the children had run up and down the grassy enclosure, peeped into the ruined chambers, picked their way along the ruined colonnade, and climbed the steps of the only tower that they could find with steps to climb, then they came and sat beside the old man on the grass that was white with daisies, and said, “Now, then!”

“Well, then,” said the old man, “you see the Ardens was always great gentry. I’ve heard say there’s always been Ardens here since before William the Conker, whoever he was.”

“Ten-sixty-six,” said Edred to himself.

“An’ they had their ups and downs like other folks, great and small. And once, when there was a war or trouble of some sort abroad, there was a lot of money, and jewlery, and silver plate hidden away. That’s what it means by treasure. And the men who hid it got killed⁠—ah, them was unsafe times to be alive in, I tell you⁠—and nobody never knew where the treasure was hid.”

“Did they ever find it?”

“Ain’t I telling you? An’ a wise woman that lived in them old ancient times, they went to her to ask her what to do to find the treasure, and she had a fit directly, what you’d call a historical fit nowadays. She never said nothing worth hearing without she was in a fit, and she made up the saying all in potery whilst she was in her fit, and that was all they could get out of her. And she never would say what the spell was. Only when she was a-dying, Lady Arden, that was then, was very took up with nursing of her, and before she breathed her lastest she told Lady Arden the spell.” He stopped for lack of breath.

“And what is the spell?” said the children, much more breathless than he.

“Nobody knows,” said he.

“But where is it?”

“Nobody knows. But I’ve ’eard say it’s in a book in the libery in the house yonder. But it ain’t no good, because there’s never been a Lord Arden come to his title without he’s left his ten years far behind him.”

Edred had a queerer feeling in his head than you can imagine; his hands got hot and dry, and then cold and damp.

“I suppose,” he said, “you’ve got to be Lord Arden? It wouldn’t do if you were just plain John or James or Edred Arden? Because my name’s Arden, and I would like to have a try?”

The old man stooped, caught Edred by the arm, pulled him up, and stood him between his knees.

“Let’s have a look at you, sonny,” he said; and had a look. “Aye,” he said, “you’re an Arden, for sure. To think of me not seeing that. I might have seen your long nose and your chin that sticks out like a spur. I ought to have known it anywhere. But my eyes ain’t what they was. If you was Lord Arden⁠—What’s your father’s name⁠—his chrissened name, I mean?”

“Edred, the same as mine. But father’s dead,” said Edred gravely.

“And your grandf’er’s name? It wasn’t George, was it⁠—George William?”

“Yes, it was,” said Edred. “How did you know?”

The old man let go Edred’s arms and stood up. Then he touched his forehead and said⁠—

“I’ve worked on the land ’ere man and boy, and I’m proud I’ve lived to see another Lord Arden take the place of him as is gone. Lauk-alive, boy, don’t garp like that,” he added sharply. “You’re Lord Arden right enough.”

“I⁠—I can’t be,” gasped Edred.

“Auntie said Lord Arden was a relation of ours⁠—a sort of great-uncle⁠—cousin.”

“That’s it, missy,” the old man nodded. “Lord Arden⁠—chrissen name James⁠—’e was first cousin to Mr. George as was your grandf’er. His son was Mr. Edred, as is your father. The late lord not ’avin’ any sons⁠—nor daughters neither for the matter of that⁠—the title comes to your branch of the family. I’ve heard Snigsworthy, the lawyer’s apprentice from Lewis, tell it over fifty times this last three weeks. You’re Lord Arden, I tell you.”

“If I am,” said Edred, “I shall say the spell and find the treasure.”

“You’ll have to be quick about it,” said