I Am David (17 page)

David sat up in the dark. He must get away from here. There must be some way, and he would have to find it. He remembered the address of the house; he could write a letter and buy a stamp. If he let himself remain a prisoner, Carlo would never get to know that David had discovered he was not perhaps really evil at all, but only stupid.

The door was impossible and the window was too small …

But if spring were not in too great a hurry to come up the mountainside, then he might be able to take advantage of the snow! He could cut a hole in the stable wall, in the end farthest from the house so that no one would hear him at work, and then dig a tunnel through the snow which lay piled up to the roof, and so get out that way, some distance from the house!

During the days that followed David was so sleepy in the daytime that he made a mess of everything. He had to stay awake all night in order to get on with his plan. Fortunately the stable was a wooden building. His knife grew blunter and blunter, but at last he managed to hack out a big square hole large enough to get through.

He replaced the loose boards every morning and put a bucket in front of them so that the farmer should not discover the hole. Then he began digging out the snow. The bucket came in useful and he emptied the snow he dug out into the beasts’ feeding trough. It was a good thing the farmer was so stupid or he would certainly have wondered why the animals were no longer thirsty! However, it was a bigger job than David had imagined, and he had to get a little sleep every night. He was very much afraid the spring would come too early and the snow begin to thaw, perhaps even collapse on top of him in the tunnel. He was also afraid that in the end the farmer would begin to ask himself why David was so sleepy in the daytime instead of just grumbling at him.

He still kept his hands off David. One day he would have struck him if the dog had not placed himself in front of David and stood there growling. David was puzzled, but when he realized the dog was ready to protect him against the farmer, he went into the stable and cried. He was overcome by the thought that a creature wanted to protect him although he had done nothing to deserve it.

But that very evening David overheard the farmer tell his wife that the youngster would have to be handed over to the police right away because he had got a hold of the dog.

What silly nonsense, David thought angrily. He had never, never had a hold over anybody, or wanted to have. And if he ever got such a hold, without being able to help it, he would not make use of it. A hold over others, brute force, violence, that was all they ever thought of.

He would have to get away that night.

The tunnel was twice his own length. He did not know if it were long enough, but it would have to do — he had no more time. When it was dark and the farmer and his family were at supper, David slipped out and thrust a long broomstick through the snow behind the stable just where he reckoned the tunnel ended. Half the broomstick stuck up out of the snow!

That meant he would be able to get through that night. But it also meant that if the farmer spotted the stick he would undoubtedly guess what David was up to …

David waited with beating heart for the farmer’s footsteps when he came to bar the door. Would he take a walk round now that it was no longer snowing?

But the farmer went straight in again — it was still very cold out.

David fought down his feeling of nausea — he always felt sick when he was most frightened. But that night he had no time to stop. He wouldn’t be sick. But he was in spite of that …

The dog was uneasy that evening. First it lay watching him as he worked at the tunnel, its eyes shining in the dark, and then it tried to help him with the digging, trotting backwards and forwards and scrabbling in the snow just where David was going to put the bucket. After a while it got the idea of placing both its forepaws on the bucket and pushing so that it bit into the snow more easily. The dog whined a little now and then and followed David with its eyes while he was looking for his bundle and packing his things together. Fortunately there had been nothing in it the farmer could find a use for! He had gone through it thoroughly and thrown it back to David.

David tidied himself up as well as he could in the darkness, and carefully disentangled Maria’s cross which he had tied firmly inside the belt of his trousers so that he should not lose it. As he fastened the chain round his neck he said softly to the dog, “I must go now. Thank you for keeping me so warm at night, King, but most of all for wanting to protect me against them. I’ve never known what it was like before to have someone who wanted to protect me. Goodbye.”

He took a firm hold of the dog’s thick warm neck and laid his head against it, and King licked him enthusiastically round the chin.

Then David crawled into the tunnel until he came to the hole he made by wriggling the broomstick round. The dog followed him, but David said, “No, King. You must stay here where you get food every day. Goodbye.”

And so he was out in the open. It was still very, very cold, but by listening to the conversation of the farmer and his wife he had found out how to get down to the road that wound on through the mountains, and perhaps it would not be quite so cold farther down now spring was on its way. It was already April.

David hurried along as fast as he dared. the night was still, and clear enough for him to see where he was going. An hour passed in half-scrambling, half-walking down to where the road should be — and then he saw it.

Men had begun to clear it to make a way through the snow, but it would be some time yet before a car would be able to drive along it. David could see where the road lay, however, and he was able to walk without too much difficulty. And the going would soon be easier, for he knew he was high up in the neighbourhood of a pass called the St Gotthard, and farther down spring would be more advanced.

He looked back over his shoulder at the white mountain. The winter had come to an end at last, then — and he had his freedom once more. He was glad he had discovered the meaning of the barred door. Everything had gone smoothly since then. Yes, he had made a good choice after all when he had chosen the God of the green pastures and still waters! He was very powerful, and the fact that He expected you to think for yourself and do something in return for His help did not matter, as long as you could work things out.

David did not know how long he had been aware of the dark dot up on the mountainside. It was moving towards him.

He was not yet free! He turned and ran. the moon was shining now. If he could reach the turn of the road where it swept round a spur of rock, he might be able to dig himself into the snow before the farmer arrived on the scene.

David never knew how he managed to do it. Everything went black in front of his eyes as he lay in the snow.

Then a warm wet feeling on his face woke him up.

It was not the farmer after all! It was the dog who wanted to go with him!

It trotted along by his side, sometimes running on ahead but always returning to keep him company, and every time he spoke to it, it would wag its tail.

David breathed deeply, hardly noticing the cold bite in the air. He was David. He was free and strong. He was on the move again, but this time he knew where he was making for. There might be many difficulties ahead before he reached his goal, but difficulties could be overcome. He still had one more promise of help left over from God, and he had the dog who was going with him of its own free will. The long winter had passed, and he was going down to meet the spring.

The spring was beautiful. It was still cold the first night he had to spend out, but he found a stable and he and the dog slept close together. The next day spring had really arrived.

He had some difficulty with his money. He still had money with him from Italy, for he had earned quite a lot in Milan and he had not spent it all before winter overtook him and he found himself a prisoner at the farm. But when he went into a shop, he was told that his money was no good in Switzerland and he would have to change it in a bank. He had been afraid to go, in case the farmer had put the police on to him. But he had gone nevertheless, for he had to have bread and King was not used to being so hungry.

But he had also managed to earn some money which he could use in Switzerland. He had been lucky, for he did not find it easy to get work among the Swiss — they all looked so dour, as if they never laughed.

Their country was very beautiful. The sun shone upon the white snow-caps of the great mountain peaks and turned them to a glowing pink. In the valleys the grass was a startling green, and the houses were surrounded by trees covered in white and pink blossom. The first time David saw it, he found himself smiling.

The fine delicate blossom brought Maria to mind. A tree in full bloom was among the most beautiful of things, and David’s smile came unbidden. Yes, it was good to be alive.

When he had provided himself with money he could use, he bought a stamp and an envelope. The letter was not very neat, for he had written it sitting on the grass with the pad on his knee. But he could not feel easy in his mind until it was done — he did not want God to think he had forgotten the lesson of the barred door!

So David wrote:

“To Carlo.

“Carlo, I want you to know I’m no longer so sure you’re bad. Perhaps you’re only stupid. And so I’ll stop hating you, because I only hate those that are evil. But if you ever use force again and I get to know about it, then I shall hate you again. Will you thank your parents for writing the letter in the paper. I saw it. And will you say I’ve written to you. Tell your parents and Andrea and the two little ones and Maria. Tell Maria first, and tell her I’ve seen a tree full of bloom that’s made me think of her.

“David”

He wrote “Carlo” on the envelope, and then the children’s father’s full name and the name of the town near where the house lay and last of all “Italy”. It took him some time to find out what a letter-box looked like in Switzerland, but he finally succeeded.

Everything went splendidly. For a whole day David walked along the side of a lake that lay greener than the greenest tree among the high mountains. David enjoyed the walk so much he did not bother with a lift. But perhaps there was another reason, too, for he did not feel quite at ease with the Swiss — they did not look as friendly as the Italians. And all the tourist traffic was going in the opposite direction.

Railway stations, he had found, had a further advantage: there was often a map there which he could look at. He knew he had to keep to the north, but apart from that he had only a rough idea of the route he must follow.

He managed to earn some money on the station at Lucerne. He had to spend more now that he had to feed the dog. He hoped there would soon be tourists travelling northwards. He had come to a city called Basle. It was somewhat out of his way, but he had noticed in Lucerne that Basle lay partly in France: the France Johannes had come from — a place called Alsace. And although he wanted to get on as fast as possible, he thought he must stop to look at it.

But he found he would have to cross a great river to get to France, and the frontier ran along it through the town. There was a road-barrier and soldiers and passports to be inspected — and so David did not go into Alsace.

Instead he accepted a lift from a Swiss, after all. He had left Basle along the road that was signposted to Germany. The great lofty snow-capped peaks had been left behind now, and the mountains had become round and green and much less high. But the countryside was still beautiful, and David liked the look of the houses. They were quite different from those in Italy: they were not as pretty but they were very, very clean, and they looked very gay with their window-boxes full of flowers.

Then he found himself at another frontier-post. there were police about, but there were only a couple of them and they were busily occupied examining a man’s papers — a tall man from Switzerland driving a big car. So David turned off the narrow road, and when he was out of sight, he ran up the hillside and back to the road on the other side of the barrier, into Germany.

But he had not been walking above a minute or two when a car pulled up in front of him — the one he had just seen at the frontier-post! David was frightened. He had not looked at the man closely. Perhaps he was one of them … Why else should he have stopped?

King seemed to sense his fear: the dog placed itself in front of him and growled at the man.

“Well, my little vagabond, you slipped across that frontier pretty nimbly, eh?”

King stopped growling, and David looked up quickly into the man’s face. You could hardly say he looked as if he were in the habit of laughing: on the contrary, he looked worried and depressed, but kind and friendly, too. Perhaps it was because his face was lined in a peculiar way that he looked so sad.

“Yes,” said David. What else could he say?

“Hm. Where are you going to, then?”

“Brunswick.”

“Well, I’m not going as far as that, but I can give you a lift to Frankfurt if your dog can behave himself.”

David thanked him, and said he thought King would sit still but he did not know for sure, and the Swiss smiled and said he was honest, at any rate.

David felt uncomfortable. That was the worst part of it: he wanted to be honest, but he was always driven to telling lies. People questioned him, and then he had to fall back upon the story he had invented. The only point he was quite frank about was his name, for he was David, and that was something he would always stand by. The Swiss was called Graf, and David hated telling him all about the circus and being taken ill in Naples. It went against the grain to lie to someone who seemed so kind and gentle.

David thought the food the man gave him quite delicious. King got something to eat, too, and when they reached Frankfurt (it would have taken David a good many days to do the journey on foot) the man gave David some money — five of the coins they used in Germany: marks they were called.

“I’m not sure you aren’t a little rascal,” the man said. “But you’ve a clear look in your eye and your dog loves you, so you must be a good boy whatever you are. You haven’t run away from your parents, have you? The truth, David!”