Chapter 3. Blunt Talk

Eglantine roused, not sure of where she was. Actually, she was fairly convinced that she had not wakened, but was still gripped in nightmare. She was gripped, anyhow, on all sides by something clammy and cold as the clay; her breath was stifled, and panic stirred her to scream, useless as it might be.

Instead of the silent scream of the nightmare that had haunted her after her husband’s burial, a thin keening assaulted her ears before it turned to a cough of amazed disgust, for in opening her mouth, she tasted dirt! She forced herself to breathe through her nose, even as she unsuccessfully tried to spit out the encroaching dirt. The nightmare had come true: she was buried alive!

She struggled, then, and her hand thrust through a thin layer into what felt like clear air... she pulled herself upright, dirt trickling from her head and shoulders in a filthy cascade. She was completely caked with mud, and frustrating it was to try to clear her vision when the hands she lifted to her mud-covered face had their own coating. At least she was able to disgorge the dirt from her mouth. Ah, for a drink of water to clear away the taste! The water bottle was attached to her saddle-pad, as she recalled, and her pony...

 ‘Tolly!’ she cried. ‘Tolibold!’ If he was nearby he could be of assistance, but seeing as how he’d been behind her, more directly in the path of the falling hillside, she suspected he was rather more in need of assistance than in a position to give it.

Fumbling with the fastenings of her cloak, she was able to get the mud-caked garment open. She wiped her face on the relatively clean inside surface. Much better! Now she could look around, to see a jumble of mud and rock and fallen trees. Below the valley was filling with water, for the slide had neatly dammed the stream. Someone ought to warn the farmers! ...but that someone was not going to be Eglantine, more’s the pity. Her own plate was rather full at present.

 ‘Tolly!’ she cried again. The dusk was beginning to descend, or else the lowering clouds made it seem so. Rain would be welcome, to wash away the mud, but only after she was off this treacherous slope and on solid ground once more.

She saw some carrion birds winging nearby, flying in circles above a fallen tree, and her heart constricted. ‘Tolly!’ she screamed, but there was no answer. Perhaps one of the ponies...

She scuttled carefully across the slope, not wanting to set off any more slides. When she was nearly there she saw a movement amongst the birds that had landed and now hopped ever closer to their quarry; several flapped back, even as there was a weak cry. That was no pony! ‘Tolibold!’ she shouted, moving as quickly as she dared. She flapped her hands at the crows, and the creatures hissed at her unpleasantly as they took to the air, robbed of their sport.

 ‘Get away,’ the escort was half-sobbing when she reached him. ‘Get away!’ There was a note of hysteria in his voice; Eglantine could see why. The tree bole split into two heavy parts that lay across Tolly’s legs and torso; his arms were trapped and he was helpless to wave away the hungering birds.

 ‘Tolly,’ Eglantine said softly, reaching out her muddy hand to touch the bleeding cheek. ‘They’re gone.’ She pulled a nearly-clean handkerchief from her pocket and gently dabbed at the wound. The escort jerked his head away and she made a soothing sound. ‘Steady now, lad. It looks as if one tried to take a bite of your cheek.’

 ‘Tried to take my eye, more like,’ Tolly gasped, turning his muddied head again to look at her. ‘Is it really you, Mistress?’

 ‘Who else would it be?’ Eglantine said crisply.

 ‘Cannot... cannot move,’ Tolly said, swallowing hard.

 ‘But you’re breathing, so that great tree hasn’t crushed you,’ Eglantine said. Not yet, anyhow.

 ‘Don’t leave me,’ Tolly said, his eyes leaving her to follow the carrion birds circling above them. ‘Please, wait until I’m sleeping...’

 ‘I haven’t the slightest intention of leaving you, asleep or no, lad,’ Eglantine said. She emphasised the word asleep as sleep, and not death as Tolly had meant it. ‘Help will just have to find us here, and don’t you worry! Why, if I’m not at Pimpernel’s birthday breakfast she’ll turn out the Tooks to find us!’

 ‘Aye,’ Tolly whispered, his eyes closing again.

 ‘Stay with me, Tolly,’ Eglantine ordered. ‘Perhaps I can dig your hands free...’

 ‘Cold,’ Tolly muttered, his eyes still closed. ‘But not as cold as the water would be.’

Eglantine was carefully scraping away the dirt under the branch on Tolly’s downhill side. It wasn’t long before she felt the fabric of his cloak, and grasping this firmly, pushing hard until she felt the solid arm beneath, she got a good hold of cloak and coat-sleeve and pulled. Tolly’s arm came into the open, and she grasped his muddy hand in her dirty ones. ‘There,’ she said, ‘That’s better.’

 ‘Sleepy,’ Tolly murmured.

 ‘Don’t you go leaving me, now, Tolly,’ Eglantine said. ‘You’ve got to promise to wait with me until our rescue comes. You’re my escort, you know, and I’ve not released you from your duties!’

 ‘Mistress,’ Tolly said, so quietly she could hardly hear him.

 ‘Tolly!’ she snapped, but he gave no sign of heeding.

She bent close, and in desperation said, ‘You cannot be letting yourself slip away so, you son of a Took!’

Even this epithet did not rouse the escort, but Eglantine added, remembering suddenly, ‘You cannot leave your little babe, and your missus, with a new one due in the greening of the year, or shortly thereafter!’

Tolly opened his eyes at that, the whites gleaming palely against the mud that masked his face. ‘New one?’ he said faintly.

 ‘Aye!’ Eglantine said. ‘The new one!’

Tolly shook his head. ‘She never told me...’ he said. ‘Sweetie never... How would you know?’ His eyes grew more aware as he fought away the encompassing mist.

 ‘She has the look about her,’ Eglantine said with a sniff, chin high in the air. ‘Woodruff and I were just gossiping over our teacups last week, as a matter of fact, and speculating when Meadowsweet would “catch on” to the fact that she was likely expecting again. She never had the all-day-long illness that so many suffer, with her first... and what with her nursing she might not notice aught...’

Tolly’s eyes were wide at such blunt talk about mums’ matters, but at least she was keeping him awake!