Flying to Nowhere: A Tale Read Online Free PDF

built, before the brothers came, before there was a farm...’
    ‘Was I here, Gweno?’
    ‘No, indeed you were not. There was nobody here at all. And the Saint came to the island from the sea and he set foot on the rocks and he walked on the shore and it was hot then like it is now. The Saint was tired and thirsty because he had come a long way across the sea. Then he found a little bird in its nest which was as dry and weak as he was for lack of water. As dry as he was. Dry as dry... as dry as dry as dry...’
    ‘Go on, Gweno.’
    ‘And the Saint stamped on the rock with his foot and broke the rock open and a spring came out, all fresh clean water. And he took the bird from its nest for it was too weak to fly and put it by the spring and he let it drink as much as it could before he touched the water himself and when the bird had drunk from the spring it was quite better again and flew away happily. And the Saint stayed on the island and built the well over the place of the spring which became famous to all mankind.’
    Gweno’s voice trailed off sleepily, and by now most of the girls were sound asleep. But Tetty’s hands moved over her body as the waters against the island, wave upon wave, and they found the little bird in its nest and they too made it fly.
    Beneath their window was a fruit tree with a ladder sticking up through it into the moonlight, and the orchard stretched away down a gentle slope to a fence which kept out sheep. Beyond the fence was a path that led from the abbey to the harbour.
    While the girls were talking, Vane’s boy met the Manciple on the path. He was startled by the sudden appearance out of the darkness of this squat figure whose flat skull sat so low in his thrown-back cowl that he seemed almost headless. He was carrying something in a bag, too, which he twirled as he walked so that the weight of it spun at the end of his fingers. It might almost have been his own small head that he was carrying.
    ‘Where are you going to, boy?’ he asked. ‘Can’t hear you.
    What did you say? Come out with it. What’s your name?’
    ‘Geoffrey, sir.’
    ‘Well, Geoffrey?’
    ‘I was going for a walk, sir.’
    The Manciple grunted.
    ‘Licking pies, rather,’ he said mysteriously.
    ‘I beg your pardon, sir?’
    ‘ You’ll need a bag to catch coneys, boy,’ said the Manciple, swinging his own bag against Geoffrey’s breeches. The soft weight of it was unpleasant and made him twist aside.
    ‘How’s your bag, Geoffrey?’ said the Manciple. He seemed to be amused by this conversation and went on his way, swinging his bag and laughing like the sound of two rubbed branches grating in a wind.
    Geoffrey continued on his way to the harbour, looking down from the cliffs at the rocks below as he had done several times since they had first landed. He did not dare to go nearer. The horse could hardly be seen at first, but there was just enough moonlight reflected from the rocks to enable him eventually to make out its shape. He stared for a long time, until he was certain that the horse was now no longer moving its head.
    ‘Oh, Saviour!’ whispered Geoffrey. He was careful to prevent himself from weeping.

8
    Early on the following morning Mrs Ffedderbompau fell out of a tree while supervising the picking of fruit. One of the girls had not been able to suppress a laugh as her mistress, missing her footing, had let out a great shriek and for one brief moment appeared to be reclining at sudden ease on her back in the middle of the tree. But a second branch snapped, and Mrs Ffedderbompau fell into the grass with a nasty thud.
    The girls were shocked, but one or two soon ran up to help her. She was carried into the farmhouse, moaning in pain, and put into her bed. Tetty was immediately sent to tell the Abbot what had happened. But though she pulled at his bell for six or seven minutes, he didn’t appear. She knew that the novices were not allowed to speak to her, and she was afraid to speak to them,