Here There Be Dragons

Somehow, Siegfried and I had gotten leave at the same time. I was still in training with the RAF and had a scheduled leave, while Siegfried was sent back to recuperate after a severe bout of bronchitis. It would be good to see him again, and of course I was most anxious to see Helen.

She was waiting on the platform, all tears and smiles. I gave her a long, heartfelt hug, collected my bags, and put them in the car. Normally, there were only two or three people detraining at the small country station, but today, there was a ragtag bunch of children milling about. A small man with glasses and a woman with a clipboard were trying to round them up, to no avail. A few local families began to arrive, and the chaos was complete.

“What's going on?” I asked Helen.

“Oh, James, it's so sad. They're some of the children that've been evacuated from London because of the bombing. They've sent them to stay with families in the countryside, here, Cornwall, everywhere they can think of. Just imagine, having to send your child away to keep from being killed!” I could see she was deeply affected by the scene, as was I. The war was taking it's toll in so very many ways.

Gradually, the children had been shepherded away with their new host families, except for one little boy sitting on a bench. At his feet was a large paper bag, presumably with whatever possessions he had brought. It couldn't be much.

“Well, it's getting dark, and I'm ravenous. Can we start back?” I said, putting my arm around Helen. I felt her slight resistance. “Now what's wrong?”

The woman with the clipboard was in hot debate with the small man, gesturing wildly. The man kept shaking his head, and finally walked away. The little boy had been watching them, drawing his legs up and wrapping his arms around them, as though to make himself even smaller.

“James, can't you find out what's wrong?” Helen looked up at me.

“I'm sure everything's fine,” I replied, feeling a bit selfish, but wanting to get back to Skeldale.

“Well, I'm sure everything is not fine.” I knew that tone of voice, and sighed inwardly.

I walked over to the man. “Excuse me. My wife noticed there seemed to be no one to pick up the young man over there. I live locally. Can I help? Perhaps they've forgotten, or been waylaid. We could drop him off somewhere.”

The man looked at the clipboard the woman had left him with. “He's to go with the Peterson's.”

Helen was standing behind me, and I heard her gasp.”Oh, no. Ed Peterson was taken to hospital last evening. He's been in a bad motor car accident.”

The man clucked his tongue. “A nice kettle of fish. I suppose we'll have to take him to the police station, perhaps they can figure out what to do with him. I certainly can't take him. Tomorrow we'll see about reassigning him somewhere else.”

“You can't do that! He's just a boy! He's already suffered enough, being sent away from his family, traveling alone to a strange part of the country, and now you want to shift him around like an unclaimed parcel!”

Helen was on the verge of tears, and my heart went out to the boy as well.

“Perhaps he could come home with us for the night, at least. Get a good hot meal and night's sleep. I imagine it would be awfully frightening for him to be turned over to the constables.” I wondered if I was making the right decision, but another look at the boy's exhausted, hollow-eyed face confirmed my decision.

“Well, it's highly irregular,” said the man doubtfully, although somewhat relieved. “You say you live hereabouts?”

“Yes, I'm home on leave, but I'll be staying at Skeldale House. I'm one of the local vets that practices there.”

“Hmmm...well, these are unsettled times, and the poor blighter could use a meal and some kindness. Alright, I'll come around tomorrow after I've seen to arrangements.” I shook his hand and thanked him. Helen had already gone over to the boy and was sitting next to him. She looked up as I came over. “James, this is Andrew. Andrew, this is my husband, Mr. Herriot. He's a vet, he takes of sick animals when he's home. You're to stay with us tonight, because the family you came to live with has had some troubles. Alright?”

The boy stood up silently, picked up his bag, and waited.

“Come on, then,” I said, as cheerfully as I could. We walked over to the car.

“Are you a soldier?” he asked, not looking at me.

“Not exactly,” I laughed, “they're trying to make a pilot out of me.”

“Do you have kids?” he asked.

“No, I'm afraid not. Unless you count Tristan,” I added, as an aside to Helen.

We drove back to Skeldale.

As I opened the front door, I was engulfed in the usual tidal wave of dogs, all frantically leaping and barking. Siegfried waded into them, and finally shouted “shut up, you lot” which magically reduced them to a silent, skulking presence. Andrew was standing outside, pressed up against the fence.

“It's alright, Andrew, they won't bother you. Just walk right by and ignore them. They're really a bunch of cowards at heart.” Helen went out and put an arm around him. “Come on, let's get you inside and cleaned up. Dinner smells marvelous.”

Siegfried raised an eyebrow at me as we stood in the entryway. “That's an odd sort of stray you've brought with you, James. Don't tell me he followed you home.”

I explained what had happened.

Siegfried rubbed his face. “This war's a nasty business, James. Turning the country inside out in many ways. You made it clear that you're only here a few days?”

“Of course. We just couldn't stand to see him shuffled about anymore today.”

Siegfried sighed. “I see Helen's hand in this. Yes, alright, we'll make do. He can sleep in your old room tonight . But he's to be your responsibility, James. Entirely.” He stopped and turned. “Don't get emotionally involved, James. You know that's one of your weak points.”

“Who's weak points?” said Tristan, coming down the stairs.

“We're certainly not discussing yours, there aren't enough hours in the day,” said Siegfried dryly.

“Hello, Tris!” I said, glad to see him as always. His sunny disposition never failed to cheer me up. “I see the place is still standing! You must be managing quite well on your own.”

“That's thanks to Mrs. Hall,” Siegfried sang out from the end of the passageway.

“I'd like to see Mrs. Hall tackling some of the patients I get,” said Tristan sourly. He caught sight of Andrew and Helen. “I say, Helen, was there a two for one special at the station?

I left Helen explaining things, and went to ask Mrs. Hall to set another place for dinner.

Dinner was just as I'd remembered it. Lamb chops, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, food I'd dreamed about while eating at the aerodrome. Andrew, who looked to be around ten, ate enough for a grown man. Helen watched him, smiling.

“Would you like some more milk?” she asked.

“I've had mine for the day”, he said, looking down.

“Rationing isn't quite so bad here, Andrew, thanks to all of the local farmers. There's more if you'd like,” Siegfried said gently.

“Yes, please,” said Andrew. He thought for a minute. “I wish Mum and Dad could be here and share,” he said quietly.

An uncomfortable silence settled on the table. Siegfried cleared his throat. “Tell you what, Andrew, why don't you come with me and I'll show you something.”

Tristan and I exchanged a glance. Helen nudged me. “You know Siegfried loves children. You needn't look so surprised.” She got up. “Tris, I was hoping that James and I could spend a little time together. Do you think....”

“You want me to keep an eye on him. It just so happens that I haven't any plans for the evening. I'm sure I can occupy a ten year old for the evening. I will, however, require a bit of assistance with morning surgery tomorrow.”

“Done,” I said, firmly shoving my qualms aside. I suspected Tristan of setting me up with some odious job in the morning, Clancy the Airedale cross, or Magnus, the dachshund with the long memory for meddling vets. Oh well, it was worth it for a few precious hours with Helen.

As Helen and I headed for the stairs, a puff of purple smoke emanated from the surgery, accompanied by a childish whoop. Siegfried was demonstrating his favorite trick, mixing two common chemicals together to produce a roiling cloud of purplish vapors.

“You men are all boys are heart,” said Helen, smiling.

Helen and I had decided to go to the local picture show. When we returned, the house was quiet. There was a note by the phone, from Siegfried, saying that he'd be out for a few hours. We made our way to the sitting room.

The room was a shambles. The sofa and chair cushions were all over the floor, and a sheet draped over several kitchen chairs in the middle of the room. The dogs were busily polishing off something on the floor. “Good Lord,” I said .

“James, look,” said Helen, peeking under the sheet. Tristan was flat on his back, snoring peacefully, pie meringue rimming his mouth. Andrew was curled up next to him. “How sweet!”

“Best wake him up and get things in order before Siegfried gets home.” Helen shook him awake, while I put the furniture back and cleaned up the pie remnants. “They've had a jolly good time, by the looks of things,” I said.

“I agree,” said Siegfried, who'd entered noiselessly at some point. I waited to see which way the wind was blowing. He looked at the remains of the pie pan; bending down, he scooped up a blob of pie filling, crept over to Tristan, and delicately applied it to his face. Then he softly called to the dogs.

Three dogs joyfully answered the summons, licking Tristan enthusiastically as he sat up sputtering.

“Get off! Mangy pack of mutts! Go on, get out!” He wiped his face on his sleeve.

“Introducing our young friend to the joys of overindulgence, I see,” said Siegfried, shaking his head. “You know where the bismuth mixture's kept, should you need it.” He looked at his brother quizzically. “What were you up to?”

“He was just sitting there, not saying anything. It was sort of spooky. He must feel terribly cut off from everything. I thought I'd take his mind off things.”

“James and I will take him upstairs and put him to bed. Thank you, Tris. You're very sweet.”

“No truer word was spoken,” said Siegfried, wiping a bit of fruit from Tristan's ear.

The next morning, I slept in until 7:00AM, the first time in months. By the time I got downstairs, it looked like everyone else had eaten breakfast.

“There's more for you in the kitchen, sleepyhead,” said Helen, ruffling my hair.

“Where's everybody?” I asked, wondering at the quiet.

“Tris is out on an early morning visit, something about a ram who's damaged a horn, and Siegfried's in the surgery.”

“And Andrew?”

“Oh, he's with Siegfried. Someone's brought in a rabbit that a hawk tried to pick up.” I took the cup of coffee she offered and made my way to the surgery.

The boy was holding the rabbit as Siegfried worked on it.

“That's it, hold him tightly. Just like that. Good lad.” He put in another suture. “Just one more. There. Good as new.” He dropped the needle in a pan and went to wash his hands. The boy was stroking the rabbit. Siegfried picked it up and deposited in a basket, then handed it to a waiting lady. “There you go. Bring him back next week and young Mr. Farnon will take those stitches out.” He turned to Andrew. “How'd you like to pay a visit with me?”

“Shouldn't he stay here, in case...,” I interjected.

“Nonsense. The local circumlocution office hasn't even opened yet.”

I thought rapidly. “Oh, of course, Dickens!” I responded, always glad when I could pick up on one of Siegfried's many literary references. “Not out on a call, are you? You're supposed to be recuperating.”

“There's nothing like the recuperative powers of good, clean, country air.”

When they returned, Andrew's face was glowing. “I'm going to be a vet,” he announced proudly. “I helped with a horse as big as a truck. Well almost. And Mr. Siegfried let me drive the car!”

Tristan looked a bit miffed. “You make such a fuss when I want to drive your car. I see where I stand in the scheme of things.”

“With your driving record, you should be standing in the bus queue.” He sat down on the sofa next to Andrew, and Christi, the whippet, promptly hopped up beside him. Tristan wandered off to see about lunch, and I went in search of Helen. I heard her on the phone, and stood by, waiting to see if it was a vet call, or a call about Andrew. I couldn't read her expression.

“Yes, I see. Alright. Thank you for ringing, I'll let them know.” She turned to me. “I think it's good news, at least it should be, but...oh James, things really are terrible, aren't they?” She started to cry. “His parents want him to come back home. They think that it will be better, if they're together, if...”

She couldn't get the rest out, but she didn't have to. Better for them to suffer or die together in the bombing raids, then to be separated and alone, if something happened. We all tried to keep it from our thoughts, but it seeped in, like muddy water through the cracks. I knew it was worse for Helen, being home and having time to think. The RAF left us very little time on our own, and frowned on thinking entirely.

“Come on, go and wash your face and we'll try and at least have a nice lunch together. He will be much happier with his family, you know, come what may.” I headed back toward the sitting room.

“I'm much too old to be reading about knights and dragons,” came Andrew's voice through the door.

“Rubbish,” I heard Siegfried reply. “This is St. George, patron saint of England. Look at his white charger! That big shire we treated today is descended from horses like this, bred big and strong , to carry the weight of the knight and his armor.”

“Do you believe that?” asked Andrew.

“It's history, my dear boy. You'll learn about them in school. The knights were bound to fight for, and defend, king and country. To protect their women, their children, and their land.”

“Is that what you and Mr. James are doing?”

There was a pause. “I suppose. It seems there are always dragons of some sort around, even if they don't look like the ones in this book.”

I chose that point to enter, forcing a cheerful smile to my face. “Good news, Andrew, you'll be going home tonight. Your parents miss you very much, and they'll be glad to see you again.” Andrew beamed, and I felt a pang in my heart. Siegfried glanced at me, reading my thoughts as he always seemed to do.

He sighed.

“James, what about a game of chess until lunch? I'll play you and Andrew. That'll give you a sporting chance at least.” He gave Andrew a wink.

We all struggled through the meal, trying to keep things on a light note. The easy banter between Tristan and Siegfried provided it's usual dose of comic relief. Finally the meal was over, and we prepared to take Andrew back to the train station.

“Helen, don't you think it's best if you stay here?” I said, somewhat anxiously. Fortunately, she knew what I was driving at. It wouldn't do to have her break down on the platform.

Tristan jumped in on cue. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Yes, Helen, stay here with me. I don't get to see nearly enough of you.” She laughed “Oh, Tris, I see you all the time. Someone has to help Mrs. Hall look after you while the others are gone.” I thought I saw a shadow flit across Tristan's face, but I chalked it up to my imagination.

“Right, we're off,” called Siegfried. “C'mon dogs,” he whistled. A hairy cavalcade filled the hall, and streamed out the door. I grabbed Andrew's hand, and we piled into the Rover, jockeying for position among the lolling, panting hounds. Anyone seeing the car go by would swear it was being driven by a large golden retriever, ears flapping happily in the breeze.

Fortunately, we were running late, as usual. There was just enough time to get Andrew to the station, get his ticket, and see him board the train. He shook hands with me manfully.

“Thank you, Mr. James, for taking me home with you.” His eyes were bright and eager, and I felt a tug at my heart again.

“I expect to see you back here when you're in vet school,” I said.

“Won't you be old by then?” he asked, perfectly serious. I heard Siegfried snort with laughter.

“Well, then, you can help roll me around the surgery in my wheelchair,” I replied, equally serious.

“BOARRD” called the stationmaster.

Siegfried stepped forward, thrusting a package into the boy's hand. “A little something to read on the train,” he said gruffly. It was the little history book they'd been looking at earlier. I happened to know that it was Siegfried's own, a treasure from his childhood. He cleared his throat. “Oh, I forgot, some of these,” he added, pulling some of the candy from his pocket, which he always carried.

“Now, off with you,” he said, swinging him up the steps of the train.

We never saw, or heard from him again, but we hoped that his family had come through unscathed. It was a lot to hope for.

We arrived back at Skeldale just as it was beginning to rain. “Typical English weather, bless it. Nothing better than a fresh rain to bring out the scent of the countryside.”

I sniffed. “Sorry, Siegfried, all I smell is wet pavement.” We went inside.

“You lack imagination, James. Still, I do rather rely on your sensible nature.” He hung up his hat and smoothed his hair. “Time's flown, James. I'm due to leave tomorrow, and it seems like I just got here. What do you say to a stiff drink?”

“I won't say no,” I said, looking forward to a nice malt and a quiet chat by the fire. We went into the sitting room, and Siegfried poured out two generous drinks. “Cheers,” I said, raising my glass. “Cheers,” he replied, taking a long swallow. Tristan came in, as if on cue.

“Any left for me?” he asked, knowing full well that there was a ready supply.

“Join us, Tristan,” said Siegfried. I was surprised that he hadn't thrown one of his usual barbs at his brother. They seldom missed an opportunity to antagonize each other.

Tristan poured a large one and draped himself over a chair. “So you're off tomorrow. I was hoping to talk to you before you left.”

“I was under the impression that we were doing so now,” said Siegfried. His expression belied his laconic words. He was alert, scanning Tristan's face.

Tristan squirmed under the scrutiny.

“I was thinking about joining up,” he blurted out.

I felt the blood drain from my face, as Siegfried's turned an alarming shade of red.

“We've had this discussion. You're in a reserved occupation. I need you here to run the practice and keep Skeldale going. It's out of the question.” He tossed back his drink and got up for another.

Tristan stood up. “I've already given it some thought.”

“I see.” Siegfried hadn't turned around, but I heard an unusually low and dangerous tone to his voice. Tristan appeared oblivious.

“Helen is staying at her father's but she could just as well live here and take care of things. Granville would take the small animal work, and Angus Grier and Ewan McGregor and John Broomfield could divide up the livestock work. They wouldn't poach our customers, they're all ethical men, and too old to fight anyway.”

“So you've got it all worked out, have you?” said Siegfried calmly. “Now you listen to me. I forbid it. You will stay here and run things, just as you've been doing. Is that crystal clear?” His voice rose on the last bit, and I noticed the telltale signs of his legendary temper; eyes blazing, jaw thrust out, hands clenched.

Tristan had also recognized the signs, but was too far gone to care.

“You forbid it! I'd like to see you stop me! Why must you persist in treating me like I'm someone in your employ, or a naughty schoolboy? I am fully grown, fully qualified, and fully five inches taller than you!” He was more worked up than I'd ever seen him.

“How DARE you defy me?” Siegfried spit out. “Permit me to remind you that I am senior partner in this firm, and you are therefore an employee. You are also my younger brother, and you owe it to me to respect my wishes!” He slammed his glass down on the table, shattering it. I was sure it was going to come to blows, or worse.

“Siegfried, calm down,” I said. He turned on me.

“Please don't sicken me with your usual platitudes and soft soap routine, James. This is between us.”

Tristan drew his breath in between his teeth. Siegfried visibly collected himself and took a deep breath himself.

“My apologies, James.”

“Look, Siegfried, I know this is a terribly painful and troublesome decision. But there's something else to consider. If he joins up, he can choose the branch he wants. He won't have that opportunity if he's called up. That could mean he'd be thrown into the front lines with a bunch of raw recruits.”

I shuddered at my own words. I seldom worried about myself, and Siegfried, who wore his bombast like personal armor, seemed indestructible. But Tristan...kind, gentle, funny Tristan, as brave and intelligent as anyone, but somehow seeming so vulnerable at times...it didn't bear thinking of.

“You know your history, Siegfried," I continued, "you remember the last great war. There are reserved occupations now, but over the years, if we lose enough men,” I trailed off.

Siegfried was silent, running a finger through the puddle of whiskey on the table. “I'd best see about getting this cleaned up,” he said finally, and slowly walked out the door.

Tristan was still steamed. “He's got some nerve! I'm fed up with his endless harangues. He's the most villainous tempered, irascible man in the county, bar none. I don't see why I should put up with it. Well, he's done it this time. We're going to sort things out, once and for all!”

“I don't think...” I began.

“Hang it all, James, you have to admit he's jolly unfair. He didn't give you such a beating when you joined up.”

“I'm not his brother.” I swallowed the rest of my drink. “He's angry because he's frightened, Tris. If anything happened to you, he would never forgive himself. Never. He'd be absolutely shattered.” I got up and went over to him. “Do what you have to do Tris. He'll back you in the end. But at least understand what he's going through.”

The evening meal was a dismal affair. Helen had been out doing the shopping during the afternoon blow-up, but I had apprised her of the situation. Of course, she didn't want to see Tristan go either.

Or any of us, for that matter. There was nothing for it, but to go on. For the first time in my life, I felt really black and hopeless inside.

We decided to call it an early night. Siegfried, as always, would be leaving in the early morning hours.

Helen gave him a long hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Take care of yourself, Siegfried. Please fly a little more carefully than you drive.” She struggled to smile, turned away, and went upstairs. I fought down a lump in my throat.

He clapped me on the shoulder. “I know I've been a bit edgy, James. I'm sorry. Just getting over that blasted bronchitis, you know.” He cleared his throat. “Good luck with training. Maybe I'll see you in a few months or so.”

Tristan had been standing back to one side.

“Little Brother,” he said. They looked at each other. “Let me know when you decide.” He hesitated. “' We can't possibly plan for the unknown, so I guess I shouldn't try. We're in uncharted territory now.”

“And here there be dragons,” said Tristan.

“Quite,” said Siegfried.