'But this present disorder seems to be aimed at us within the house and not some intruders. Thank you, Jennie. Emmy, do you think you can carry that lamp? It is a small one and it gives us better light than a candle.
'No, Jennie, I must do this. We shall not have our home troubled in this fashion. There was an old woman who looked after the hens in my father's time-' Great-Aunt had taken the shawl Jennie handed her as she finished tying the sash of her warm quilted robe and pulled it about her shoulders. 'Now just give me my cane and let me steady myself against your shoulder, girl. Emmy, you can go ahead and light our way. And-' she looked over to where Thragun waited by the door, 'you may just have a part in this, I think, for they say that cats can sometimes see much more than we do, and I believe that you are such a one. Now-let us go.'
'What about the hen woman, Great-Aunt,' asked Emmy. She held the lamp in a tight grip and tried to concentrate on what Great-Aunt had started to say rather than think of what might be waiting outside in the hall, or at the bottom of the stairs, or in the dark ways into the kitchen quarters.
'She was what the villagers call a wisewoman, Emmy. Like a cat, she might have seen further than the rest of us. Mrs. Jordan, who was cook in that day, had a respect for some of her ways and called her in after the footman was hurt. There were strange noises to be heard then but none of this wanton destruction, at least. The woman brought some sprigs of rowan and put them around. After that, things were quiet again. Rowan is supposed to keep off all dark influences and to close doors against their entrance. From that time on, it was customary to keep some rowan to hand-fresh if possible, dried if there was no other way.'
Their descent was slow. Great-Aunt held on to the stair rail with one hand and to Jennie, who kept step with her, with the other, while she pushed her cane through her sash to keep it ready. Thragun flowed down into the dark, once or twice looking back so his eyes were red balls in the reflected light.
Lady Ashley said no more, perhaps saving her breath for her exertions. However, there was noise enough in the house. Emmy heard her father calling for water and smelled what might be singed carpet. Two of the portraits on the walls of the lower hallway had fallen facedown on the floor, spraying fragments of glass from under them.
The clock boomed as they turned toward the kitchen wing and Emmy counted the tolls to five. The night was going. It was already time for the servants to be about. Yet this morning no one had time to think of regular duties.
Even the fire in the big range had not been built up and there were no kettles waiting for early morning tea. Spread across the floor was a clutter of utensils, as well as a welter of knives, forks, ladles, and large stirring spoons. There had been a clear sweep made of the many shelves and storage places.
'Be careful, milady.' Jennie kicked, sending some of the debris out of their path. 'Now you sit here and tell me what you want.'
Great-Aunt was moving more and more slowly and breathing heavily. She let Jennie steer her to Mrs. Cobb's own chair and sat down, resting her head against its tall back. Her eyes closed for a moment and then opened.
'Keys-'
Her voice sounded very weak, hardly above a whisper.
'Yes, milady-' Jennie picked up a crock which was the only thing left on a shelf near the stove and felt behind it, to bring out a set of large old keys. 'Luckily Cook leaves the spare ones here of a night when she plans to start early in the morning.'
'Still room-rowan-'
Jennie nodded. She had busied herself lighting one of the lanterns waiting to be used for anyone needing to venture out into the stableyard after nightfall.
For a moment she stood looking at one of the doors which led from the other side of the kitchen. Then she stooped and caught up a toasting fork, its handle long enough to make it a formidable weapon. With this in one hand, the keys and the lantern in the other, she advanced toward the door, Thragun already ahead of her.
The key turned in the lock and they were able to look into a room whose walls were composed of shelves, each of those loaded with jars and bottles. There was a scent of spice, of herbs, a large stock of the small bottled jams and jellies.
Jennie paid no attention to any of those and luckily Hob-Khon had not yet carried his program of breakage this far. The maid hunted out a bunch of leafed stems which had been hanging from the ceiling on a cord and swiftly made her way back to the kitchen, taking time only to lock the door behind her.
She laid her trophy on the well-scrubbed table and Thragun did what he had never dared do here before, jumped up beside it, sniffing inquisitively. He sneezed and raised his head. There was indeed a strong strange odor, but it had nothing of the dark about it.
'Probably not, Jennie. But what do they say tempts Hob's famous appetite? Cream, is it not? And surely something quite out of the ordinary to be added on this occasion. Hmmm-'
She looked about as if waiting for a suggestion.
Jennie had gone to fetch the cream. The only other object on the table was a covered bowl. Thragun sniffed it-Great-Aunt Amelie took the cover off.
'Why, it is a Christmas pudding! I thought that Mrs. Cobb had not yet begun to make such! And this one has een steamed ready for the table, though it is cold.' Lady Ashley pulled the bowl closer.
'Oh, milady.' Jennie was back with another bowl, the contents of which made Thragun's whiskers twitch a fraction. Certainly its contents were more to be desired than this Christmas pudding. 'That was sent up from th' village just this evenin'. Thomas brought it in on th' cart from Windall. Cook, she an' Mis' Davis over at th' Jolly Boy 'as been for years now a-talkin' 'bout which Christmas pudding be the best-them with brandy or them with rum. So this year Mis' Davis up an' sent one of her'n over for to give us a taste like.'
'Bring a plate, Jennie.' Great Aunt sat up straighter. 'And then turn the pudding out. We'll just see if Hob has a taste for a seasonal dainty.'
So the table was set, the bowl of cream, the pudding on a plate. Under Lady Ashley's direction, the bits of rowan were placed around three sides of the offering allowing only the fourth to be open.
'Now we shall have to leave it to Hob. He has no desire to be seen, or so I was always told. Come-'
With Emmy before her with the lamp and Jennie still holding the toasting fork at ready to help her, Lady Ashley went slowly out. They had left Jennie's lantern sitting on the ledge of the cupboard shelf and Thragun remained where he was, on the table well away from the rowan.
With slitted eyes he looked to the fireplace. There had been more noise from the forepart of the house, not muffled by the length of passages and rooms in between. He thought that Hob was still busy at his destruction and that he was doing more than ever to cause all the damage he could as he went.
But after the others had left there was silence. What new mischief was the Khon about?
Out of the fireplace sped a shadow and Thragun subdued the hiss he had almost voiced. He did not know how the preparations Lady Ashley had made would act. But he sat up on his haunches and with his forepaws made signs in the air, following as best he could his memories of what was done to discourage a Khon in his old home.
It was Hob in form who squatted on the table top, grabbed the bowl of cream in both hands and held it high, drinking its contents in a single slurping gulp. Then he swung about to look at the pudding.
There was a crinkling of Hob's wrinkled face as if he were in pain and his two claw hands at the end of spider thin arms patted his protruding belly which looked as if he had already swallowed the bowl along with what it held.
Thragun did not hesitate:
'You are Hob, the thewada of this house-'
Hob's head was cocked to one side as if he did hear and understand, but his eyes were all for the pudding.
'Hob's Hole-Hob's own
From the roasting to the bone.
Them as sees, shall not look,
Them as blind, they shall be shook.
Sweep it up and stamp it down-
Hob shall clear it all around.
So Mote this be!'
Hob's one hand went out to the pudding, though his other still rubbed his middle as if to subdue some pain there.
