The White Horse of Zennor (5 page)

‘The leg will be fine now, right as rain, good as new,' said the Knocker.

His pale face was deeply lined with age and there was a kindness and a wisdom in his face that both the children trusted instinctively.

‘Thank you,' he said as the children helped him to his feet.

He shook them each solemnly by the hand.

‘Thank you both very kindly. I don't think I should have survived a frosty autumn night out here on the moor. I'm old you see and even Knockers die when they get old you know. It's so nice to find people who'll talk to
us. So many people just run away and it's such a pity, because there's nothing to be frightened of.'

He hobbled unaided around the ruined count-house testing his leg before returning to the children.

‘No broken bones I think. All's well that ends well, as they say.'

‘Will you be all right now?' Arthur asked. ‘We ought to be getting back home now. Father said we should be off the moor by dark.'

‘Quite right. Wise man, your father,' the little Knocker said, brushing off his moleskin jacket and pulling it down straight. ‘After all, you never know who you might bump into up here. The place is full of spriggans and pixies and nasty wee little folk and even,' he whispered low, ‘even the odd Knocker or two.' And the three laughed together as old friends might do over a confidential joke. ‘But before you go, children, I have to thank you properly. One good turn deserves another, tit for tat, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours, and so on. I want each of you to close your eyes and tell me your one dearest wish. You have to say what you'd most like in all the world. Ask and you shall have it. Annie, you're first. Come on now.'

Annie did not have to think for long.

‘A horse,' she said, her eyes squeezed tight shut. ‘We had to sell our horse you see, because father needed the money for the farm. I've always wanted a great white horse.'

‘Keep your eyes closed,' said the Knocker. ‘Keep them closed both of you and don't open them until I tell you. Now you Arthur. What is it that you'd most want in all the world?'

‘I want to stay here on the farm,' said Arthur slowly. ‘I want my father to be happy again and to go singing on his tractor. I want the animals back and the farm working again like it used to.'

‘That's a lot of wants,' said the Knocker. ‘Let's see what we can do now.'

He chuckled aloud, and his voice seemed more animated now.

‘You know, children, I haven't had the chance to do this for donkey's years. I'm so excited, I feel like a little Knocker all over again. You wished for the horse, Annie; and you wished for the farm back as it was, Arthur. How you do it is up to you, but you'll find enough seed corn in
the barn when you get back home and you can use the horse as you wish. But after a year and a day you must bring the horse back here to me and leave twelve sacks of good seed corn back in your barn to repay me. Do you understand? Remember, be back here by dusk a year and a day from now.'

‘We'll be here,' said Arthur.

‘Promise?' said the Knocker.

‘We promise,' they said solemnly.

‘You should be able to manage everything by that time with luck, and I'll see you have enough of that. All right children, open your eyes now.'

In place of the little Knocker stood a giant of a horse, towering above them, a brilliant white from mane to tail. He looked down at the children almost causally, swished his tail, shook his head with impatience and then sprang out over the ruined wall and onto the open moor beyond where he stood waiting in the bracken for the scrambling children to catch him up.

Arthur had never been fond of horses. They seemed to him to be unpredictable creatures and he had always steered clear of them. Anyway, as a budding
farmer he had no use for any animal that was not productive. But Annie had enough confidence and experience for both of them and she caught him gently by the mane and stroked his nose, speaking softly to him all the while. Within a few minutes they were both mounted on the great white horse and were trotting down the hillside and into the farmyard where the chickens scattered in panic at their approach. The noise brought Farmer Veluna and Molly running out of the back door where they were faced with the terrifying spectacle of their two children perched precariously up on a massive white stallion of at least seventeen hands, that snorted in excitement, tossing its head and pawing the yard, sending sparks flying along the cobbles into the dark.

Arthur told their story breathlessly. With the evidence of the horse before their eyes and the obvious sincerity in Arthur's voice, it was difficult for his father or mother to harbour any doubt but that the story was indeed true. Certainly they knew Arthur had a wild and fertile imagination and was impetuous enough at times but with Annie sitting astride the horse in front of him,
laughing aloud with delight and adding her own details from time to time, both Farmer and Molly were very soon completely convinced.

‘Look in the barn, Father,' Arthur proclaimed with absolute confidence. ‘The little man said there'd be enough seed corn in there to make a start. We can save the farm, Father, I know we can. The seed will be there, I'm sure of it. Have a look, Father.'

Farmer Veluna crossed the yard on his own and opened wide the great barn doors. They saw the light go on, bathing the yard in a yellow glow, and they heard a whoop of joy before Farmer Veluna came running out again. He was laughing as he used to laugh.

‘Well I'll eat my hat,' he said, and stuffed the peak of his flat cap into his mouth. Annie and Arthur knew then they had found their father again. ‘We have a horse and we have the seed,' Farmer Veluna said. ‘There's all my father's old horsedrawn equipment in the old cart shed, and I think I know where I can find his old set of harness. It's up in the attic, isn't it Molly?' But he did not wait for a reply. ‘It may be a bit small for this giant of a horse, but it'll stretch. It'll fit – it's got to fit. 'Course,
I've never worked a horse, but father did and I watched him years ago and followed him often enough in the fields. I'll pick it up; it shouldn't be too difficult. We've a chance,' he said. ‘We've a chance, children, a sporting chance.'

And from that moment on there was no more talk of selling up.

Ploughing started the following morning just after dawn. The ground was just dry enough, the earth turning cleanly from the shares. The horse proved tireless in the fields. They had sold every bale of hay so he had to pick enough sustenance from the cold wet autumn grass; but that seemed to be enough for him, for the horse ploughed on that day well into the evening, and came back for more the next day and the next and the next.

It was clear at the outset that the horse had an uncanny instinct for the land. He knew how tight to turn, what speed to go without ever having to be told. When his father tired, Arthur could walk behind the plough and simply follow the horse down the furrows and around the headlands until the job was done. If he
stumbled and fell in the furrows, as he often did, the horse would wait for him to regain his feet before leaning again into his harness, taking the strain and plodding off down the field.

Within three weeks all the corn fields along the valley were ploughed, harrowed and drilled with barley. Word spread quickly around the parish that Farmer Veluna was laughing again and they came visiting once more to stand at the gate with him and admire his miraculous workhorse.

‘No diesel, nothing to go wrong; he'll plough the steepest land on the farm,' Farmer would say with expansive pride. ‘Built like a tank but gentle as a lamb. See for yourself. Arthur can manage him on his own and he's only nine you know. Have you ever seen anything like it?'

‘Where the devil did you get him from?' they would ask because they had heard all kinds of rumours.

And he would tell them the story of the little Knocker man on the moor who had come to their rescue, but no one believed him. The farmers amongst them laughed knowingly at the story and told Farmer
Veluna to pull the other one; but they did not press him for they knew well enough that a farmer will never disclose the source of his good fortune. But at home their wives knew better and the story of the amazing white horse of Zennor spread along the coast like thistledown in the wind. But in spite of their scepticism all their friends were delighted to see Farmer Veluna his old self again, and they determined to help him succeed. So one winter's night in the Tinners' Arms they got together and worked out how they might help the Farmer back on his feet whether he wanted their help or not. They knew he was proud, as they were, so that any help had to be both anonymous and unreturnable.

So it was that on Christmas morning when Farmer Veluna and his family returned home after church, they found their yard filled with milling animals, three sows and a boar, half a dozen geese, five cows with suckling calves and at least twenty-five ewes. Puzzled and not a little suspicious, Farmer Veluna phoned all around the parish to find out who owned the wandering animals that had converged on his yard, but no one seemed to know anything about them and no one claimed them.
He was about to contact the police in Penzance when Arthur and Annie came running into the kitchen, their voices shrill with excitement.

‘The barn,' Annie shouted. ‘It's full, full of hay and straw.'

‘And there's feed,' Arthur said. ‘Sacks and sacks of it, enough to last us through the winter.'

‘It's that Knocker again,' Farmer Veluna said, and the children believed him; but Molly, with a woman's intuition, knew better but said nothing.

The winter was long and hard that year, but with the sounds of the farm all around them again and the winter corn shooting up green in the fields, Farmer and his family were more than content. The white horse wintered out in a sheltered field behind the old granary. He grew a long white shaggy coat so that he seemed even more vast than ever. Whenever he was not needed hauling the dung cart or carrying hay bales out to the cattle on the farm, Annie would ride him out over the moor and down through the fields to the cliffs. He was of course far too big for her to control, but she had no fear of horses and found that no control was needed
anyway. A gentle word in his ear, a pat of encouragement on his great arching neck and he would instantly do what she wanted. It was not obedience and Annie recognised that; it was simply that the horse wished to please her. He would go like the wind, jump any ditch or fence he was asked to and seemed as sure-footed on the hills as a goat. But it was on one of these rides that Annie first discovered that he had an inclination to make his way towards the cliffs, and once there he would stand looking out to the open sea, ears pricked to the cry of the wheeling gulls and the thunder of the surf against the cliffs. He was always reluctant to turn away for home, calling out at the last over his shoulder and turning back his ears as if expecting some kind of reply.

After just such a ride Annie finally decided upon a name for the horse. No name seemed to have suited until now. ‘He'll be called Pegasus,' she declared, and no-one argued for she had become vehemently possessive, scolding both Arthur and her father if they worked him too hard on the farm or did not look after him as well as she thought they should have done. She groomed him regularly every morning and picked out
his feet. She it was who towelled him down after work and rubbed in the soothing salted water so that the harness would not make him sore. She was passionately proud of him and would ride tall through the village when she rode out with the hunt, soaking in the admiration and envy of both riders and spectators alike. There was not a horse in the parish to touch him and even other horses seemed to sense it, moving nervously away whenever he approached. There were some who doubted that any horse could jump just as well as he could plough, but when they witnessed his performance in the chase any doubts vanished at once. Where others pulled aside to find a lower hedge or a narrower ditch, Pegasus sailed over with apparent ease. He out-paced every horse in the field and Annie used no whip and no spur, for none were needed. He was, she said glowingly when she got back home, as strong as any tractor, as bold as a hunter, and as fast as a racehorse. Pegasus had become a local celebrity and Annie basked in his reflected glory.

With the spring drying out the land Pegasus turned carthorse once more and was hitched up for the spring
ploughing. Farmer Veluna had enough seed for two small fields of oats and Pegasus went to it with a will; but both Arthur and his father now noticed that the horse would pause, ears pricked, at the end of the furrow nearest to the sea; and it was quite apparent that the furrows going down the hill towards the cliffs in the distance were sometimes ploughed more quickly and therefore less deeply than the furrows leading back to the farmhouse.

‘Most horses speed up on the way back home; that's what I thought,' said Farmer Veluna. ‘Can't understand it, doesn't make sense.'

‘But you can't expect him to behave like an ordinary horse, father,' said Arthur, ‘'cos he isn't an ordinary horse. Just look at him father, he'd plough this field all on his own if you let him. Go on Father, try it, let him do it.'

Farmer Veluna let go of the plough more to please his son than anything else and allowed the horse to move on alone. As they watched in amazement the plough remained straight as an arrow, and inch perfect in depth. Pegasus turned slowly and came back towards
them, his line immaculate and parallel. Arthur and his father picked the stones out of the furrows as evening fell while Pegasus ploughed up and down the field until the last furrow was complete. Then they ran over the field towards him to guide him round the headlands, but Pegasus had already turned and was making the first circuit of the field. At that moment both Arthur and his father finally understood what Annie already knew, that this was a miraculous creature that needed no help from them or from anyone.