Part 11 of 18
A line of hares has formed between him and the dogs.
The dogs have halted and are staring at the hares that stare back. Absolute fearlessness radiates off both groups of animals. The drove of hard-muscled lapines takes a step forward. The dogs take a step back then rally and begin to advance. The hares bristle up and Richard can see there is going to be blood-shed. He glances around, sees a stout branch and picks it up. He steps forward to join forces in facing the enemy.
There is a sudden silence that feels too deep to be an actual absence of sound… almost like something is re-evaluating the situation and thinking things over.
The deep quiet thickens.
He sees the dog's eyes raising to him now. No, not to him, to something behind him. A tiny snap of a twig causes Richard to jerk in atavistic fear. He spins, club raised, and freezes. Right behind him, seemingly materialized out of thin air, is a stag. Richard shakes his head and lowers his weapon. Not merely a stag, no, never that. This is a hoary immense animal with an incredible rack of antlers ivory with age and honed to razor-sharp points. The creature radiates power. It is also looking right at him.
Richard looks deep into eyes that haven't been seen in centuries. He senses the impossibility of this creature actually being here but he flicks a glance over his shoulder at the dogs. The dogs see this thing. They certainly do. They have lowered their heads and are lying down.
The hares don't move.
The stag passes Richard so close that their shoulders brush. The deep green eye (green?) of the stag rolls to give Richard one last amused look then it is past and picking its way delicately over the hares and up to the dogs. It drops its muzzle and licks each dog on the head. Tails stubs are wagging slowly.
One of the hares breaks formation and turns to look at Richard with an 'Are you still gumming up the works, mate?' expression that needs no interpretation.
Richard drops the branch and swarms up the nearest tree and onto the wall and over he goes. As he drops onto the cool grass, his memory catches up with him. Green. The hare's eyes had been green. What's with all the green? His meditation is interrupted moments late by another rustle as Angus drops onto the grass beside him.
Richard starts to ask but Angus beats him to it, "Why are there rabbits lolloping about and why aren't the dogs chasing them?"
"Um, is that what you saw? Rabbits? Did you… did you see anything else?"
"No, why? Was there something else to see?"
"Probably not, not if you want to sleep peacefully tonight. How did you get past the dogs?"
"They were staring at the rabbits and…"
"…and?"
"Sir, Rich, oh… I swear the dogs were laughing. I know that sounds peculiar but…"
Richard shakes his head, takes Angus by the shoulder and leads him into a neighbouring grove of silent oaks, "No more peculiar than what I just witnessed." At Angus' raised eyebrow Richard glances furtively about and mutters as if worried about being overheard, "Maybe later I'll tell you." He then moves off a few paces and lowers his voice even lower, looking up at the motionless leaves, and whispers, "Thank you from the bottom of my heart." He watches and listens but there is no answer. After a moment he scoffs softly to himself. Of course there's no answer. That's not how it works. He turns back to Angus and rubs his hands together, "Let's get to the car and follow Johnny. I'm sure he's leaving a trail of mayhem all the way back to London."
Neither man notices the tiny rill of air that follows them in the oak canopy as they slip through the grove and out the other side into bright sunshine. Once empty, the grove seems to exude a sigh of relief and settle back into a pastoral somnolence that feels centuries old.
They find the driving instructor standing by the side of the road, pull over, and get the full story from him. Richard hands him a handkerchief and is half-way through his apology when the man glances up and says, "Are you him?"
Richard and Angus share a look. Richard prevaricates, "Um, him… who?"
"You are, aren't you? Oh my god, my wife will never believe me! Wait until I call the newspaper! Here, can I get a selfie?"
As the man fumbles for his cell phone, Richard and Angus jump back into their car and roar off. Next day, a very blurry picture of perhaps a red car is featured in the local paper. A thrilling account by a local widow-lady adds to the intrigue. The whole area basks in reflected glory for many a day.
The Polite Man! Here! With another Polite Man! How many of them are there? Is there a coven of Polite Men roving about protecting the weak and defenseless? Speculation begins to run wild and the story gains steam.
END – part 11