transcriber's note: this text was based on the plain ascii text created by jo churcher, scarborough, ontario (jchurche@io.org), then proofread against a reprint of a edition (macmillan & co. ltd., london). the illustrations by h.r. millar have been omitted from this text-only version. --------------------------------------------------------------------- puck of pook's hill by rudyard kipling contents weland's sword young men at the manor the knights of the joyous venture old men at pevensey a centurion of the thirtieth on the great wall the winged hats hal o' the draft 'dymchurch flit' the treasure and the law weland's sword puck's song see you the dimpled track that runs, all hollow through the wheat? o that was where they hauled the guns that smote king philip's fleet! see you our little mill that clacks, so busy by the brook? she has ground her corn and paid her tax ever since domesday book. see you our stilly woods of oak, and the dread ditch beside? o that was where the saxons broke, on the day that harold died! see you the windy levels spread about the gates of rye? o that was where the northmen fled, when alfred's ships came by! see you our pastures wide and lone, where the red oxen browse? o there was a city thronged and known, ere london boasted a house! and see you, after rain, the trace of mound and ditch and wall? o that was a legion's camping-place, when cæsar sailed from gaul! and see you marks that show and fade, like shadows on the downs? o they are the lines the flint men made, to guard their wondrous towns! trackway and camp and city lost, salt marsh where now is corn; old wars, old peace, old arts that cease, and so was england born! she is not any common earth, water or wood or air, but merlin's isle of gramarye, where you and i will fare. the children were at the theatre, acting to three cows as much as they could remember of _midsummer night's dream_. their father had made them a small play out of the big shakespeare one, and they had rehearsed it with him and with their mother till they could say it by heart. they began when nick bottom the weaver comes out of the bushes with a donkey's head on his shoulders, and finds titania, queen of the fairies, asleep. then they skipped to the part where bottom asks three little fairies to scratch his head and bring him honey, and they ended where he falls asleep in titania's arms. dan was puck and nick bottom, as well as all three fairies. he wore a pointy-eared cloth cap for puck, and a paper donkey's head out of a christmas cracker--but it tore if you were not careful--for bottom. una was titania, with a wreath of columbines and a foxglove wand. the theatre lay in a meadow called the long slip. a little mill-stream, carrying water to a mill two or three fields away, bent round one corner of it, and in the middle of the bend lay a large old fairy ring of darkened grass, which was the stage. the millstream banks, overgrown with willow, hazel, and guelder-rose, made convenient places to wait in till your turn came; and a grown-up who had seen it said that shakespeare himself could not have imagined a more suitable setting for his play. they were not, of course, allowed to act on midsummer night itself, but they went down after tea on midsummer eve, when the shadows were growing, and they took their supper--hard-boiled eggs, bath oliver biscuits, and salt in an envelope--with them. three cows had been milked and were grazing steadily with a tearing noise that one could hear all down the meadow; and the noise of the mill at work sounded like bare feet running on hard ground. a cuckoo sat on a gate-post singing his broken june tune, 'cuckoo-cuk', while a busy kingfisher crossed from the mill-stream, to the brook which ran on the other side of the meadow. everything else was a sort of thick, sleepy stillness smelling of meadow-sweet and dry grass. their play went beautifully. dan remembered all his parts--puck, bottom, and the three fairies--and una never forgot a word of titania--not even the difficult piece where she tells the fairies how to feed bottom with 'apricocks, green figs, and dewberries', and all the lines end in 'ies'. they were both so pleased that they acted it three times over from beginning to end before they sat down in the unthistly centre of the ring to eat eggs and bath olivers. this was when they heard a whistle among the alders on the bank, and they jumped. the bushes parted. in the very spot where dan had stood as puck they saw a small, brown, broad-shouldered, pointy-eared person with a snub nose, slanting blue eyes, and a grin that ran right across his freckled face. he shaded his forehead as though he were watching quince, snout, bottom, and the others rehearsing _pyramus and thisbe_, and, in a voice as deep as three cows asking to be milked, he began: 'what hempen homespuns have we swaggering here, so near the cradle of our fairy queen?' he stopped, hollowed one hand round his ear, and, with a wicked twinkle in his eye, went on: 'what, a play toward? i'll be auditor; an actor, too, perhaps, if i see cause.' the children looked and gasped. the small thing--he was no taller than dan's shoulder--stepped quietly into the ring. 'i'm rather out of practice,' said he; 'but that's the way my part ought to be played.' still the children stared at him--from his dark-blue cap, like a big columbine flower, to his bare, hairy feet. at last he laughed. 'please don't look like that. it isn't my fault. what else could you expect?' he said. 'we didn't expect any one,' dan answered, slowly. 'this is our field.' 'is it?' said their visitor, sitting down. 'then what on human earth made you act _midsummer night's dream_ three times over, _on_ midsummer eve, _in_ the middle of a ring, and under--right _under_ one of my oldest hills in old england? pook's hill--puck's hill--puck's hill--pook's hill! it's as plain as the nose on my face.' he pointed to the bare, fern-covered slope of pook's hill that runs up from the far side of the mill-stream to a dark wood. beyond that wood the ground rises and rises for five hundred feet, till at last you climb out on the bare top of beacon hill, to look over the pevensey levels and the channel and half the naked south downs. 'by oak, ash, and thorn!' he cried, still laughing. 'if this had happened a few hundred years ago you'd have had all the people of the hills out like bees in june!' 'we didn't know it was wrong,' said dan. 'wrong!' the little fellow shook with laughter. 'indeed, it isn't wrong. you've done something that kings and knights and scholars in old days would have given their crowns and spurs and books to find out. if merlin himself had helped you, you couldn't have managed better! you've broken the hills--you've broken the hills! it hasn't happened in a thousand years.' 'we--we didn't mean to,' said una. 'of course you didn't! that's just why you did it. unluckily the hills are empty now, and all the people of the hills are gone. i'm the only one left. i'm puck, the oldest old thing in england, very much at your service if--if you care to have anything to do with me. if you don't, of course you've only to say so, and i'll go.' he looked at the children, and the children looked at him for quite half a minute. his eyes did not twinkle any more. they were very kind, and there was the beginning of a good smile on his lips. una put out her hand. 'don't go,' she said. 'we like you.' 'have a bath oliver,' said dan, and he passed over the squashy envelope with the eggs. 'by oak, ash and thorn,' cried puck, taking off his blue cap, 'i like you too. sprinkle a plenty salt on the biscuit, dan, and i'll eat it with you. that'll show you the sort of person i am. some of us'--he went on, with his mouth full--'couldn't abide salt, or horse-shoes over a door, or mountain-ash berries, or running water, or cold iron, or the sound of church bells. but i'm puck!' he brushed the crumbs carefully from his doublet and shook hands. 'we always said, dan and i,' una stammered, 'that if it ever happened we'd know ex-actly what to do; but--but now it seems all different somehow.' 'she means meeting a fairy,' said dan. 'i never believed in 'em--not after i was six, anyhow.' 'i did,' said una. 'at least, i sort of half believed till we learned "farewell rewards". do you know "farewell rewards and fairies"?' 'do you mean this?' said puck. he threw his big head back and began at the second line: 'good housewives now may say, for now foul sluts in dairies do fare as well as they; and though they sweep their hearths no less ('join in, una!') than maids were wont to do, yet who of late for cleanliness finds sixpence in her shoe?' the echoes flapped all along the flat meadow. 'of course i know it,' he said. 'and then there's the verse about the rings,' said dan. 'when i was little it always made me feel unhappy in my inside.' '"witness those rings and roundelays", do you mean?' boomed puck, with a voice like a great church organ. 'of theirs which yet remain, were footed in queen mary's days on many a grassy plain, but since of late elizabeth, and, later, james came in, are never seen on any heath as when the time hath been.' 'it's some time since i heard that sung, but there's no good beating about the bush: it's true. the people of the hills have all left. i saw them come into old england and i saw them go. giants, trolls, kelpies, brownies, goblins, imps; wood, tree, mound, and water spirits; heath-people, hill-watchers, treasure-guards, good people, little people, pishogues, leprechauns, night-riders, pixies, nixies, gnomes, and the rest--gone, all gone! i came into england with oak, ash and thorn, and when oak, ash and thorn are gone i shall go too.' dan looked round the meadow--at una's oak by the lower gate; at the line of ash trees that overhang otter pool where the mill-stream spills over when the mill does not need it, and at the gnarled old white-thorn where three cows scratched their necks. 'it's all right,' he said; and added, 'i'm planting a lot of acorns this autumn too.' 'then aren't you most awfully old?' said una. 'not old--fairly long-lived, as folk say hereabouts. let me see--my friends used to set my dish of cream for me o' nights when stonehenge was new. yes, before the flint men made the dewpond under chanctonbury ring.' una clasped her hands, cried 'oh!' and nodded her head. 'she's thought a plan,' dan explained. 'she always does like that when she thinks a plan.' 'i was thinking--suppose we saved some of our porridge and put it in the attic for you? they'd notice if we left it in the nursery.' 'schoolroom,' said dan quickly, and una flushed, because they had made a solemn treaty that summer not to call the schoolroom the nursery any more. 'bless your heart o' gold!' said puck. 'you'll make a fine considering wench some market-day. i really don't want you to put out a bowl for me; but if ever i need a bite, be sure i'll tell you.' he stretched himself at length on the dry grass, and the children stretched out beside him, their bare legs waving happily in the air. they felt they could not be afraid of him any more than of their particular friend old hobden the hedger. he did not bother them with grown-up questions, or laugh at the donkey's head, but lay and smiled to himself in the most sensible way. 'have you a knife on you?' he said at last. dan handed over his big one-bladed outdoor knife, and puck began to carve out a piece of turf from the centre of the ring. 'what's that for--magic?' said una, as he pressed up the square of chocolate loam that cut like so much cheese. 'one of my little magics,' he answered, and cut another. 'you see, i can't let you into the hills because the people of the hills have gone; but if you care to take seizin from me, i may be able to show you something out of the common here on human earth. you certainly deserve it.' 'what's taking seizin?' said dan, cautiously. 'it's an old custom the people had when they bought and sold land. they used to cut out a clod and hand it over to the buyer, and you weren't lawfully seized of your land--it didn't really belong to you--till the other fellow had actually given you a piece of it--like this.' he held out the turves. 'but it's our own meadow,' said dan, drawing back. 'are you going to magic it away?' puck laughed. 'i know it's your meadow, but there's a great deal more in it than you or your father ever guessed. try!' he turned his eyes on una. 'i'll do it,' she said. dan followed her example at once. 'now are you two lawfully seized and possessed of all old england,' began puck, in a sing-song voice. 'by right of oak, ash, and thorn are you free to come and go and look and know where i shall show or best you please. you shall see what you shall see and you shall hear what you shall hear, though it shall have happened three thousand year; and you shall know neither doubt nor fear. fast! hold fast all i give you.' the children shut their eyes, but nothing happened. 'well?' said una, disappointedly opening them. 'i thought there would be dragons.' '"though it shall have happened three thousand year,"' said puck, and counted on his fingers. 'no; i'm afraid there were no dragons three thousand years ago.' 'but there hasn't happened anything at all,' said dan. 'wait awhile,' said puck. 'you don't grow an oak in a year--and old england's older than twenty oaks. let's sit down again and think. _i_ can do that for a century at a time.' 'ah, but you're a fairy,' said dan. 'have you ever heard me say that word yet?' said puck quickly. 'no. you talk about "the people of the hills", but you never say "fairies",' said una. 'i was wondering at that. don't you like it?' 'how would you like to be called "mortal" or "human being" all the time?' said puck; 'or "son of adam" or "daughter of eve"?' 'i shouldn't like it at all,' said dan. 'that's how the djinns and afrits talk in the _arabian nights_.' 'and that's how _i_ feel about saying--that word that i don't say. besides, what you call them are made-up things the people of the hills have never heard of--little buzzflies with butterfly wings and gauze petticoats, and shiny stars in their hair, and a wand like a schoolteacher's cane for punishing bad boys and rewarding good ones. _i_ know 'em!' 'we don't mean that sort,' said dan. 'we hate 'em too.' 'exactly,' said puck. 'can you wonder that the people of the hills don't care to be confused with that painty-winged, wand-waving, sugar-and-shake-your-head set of impostors? butterfly wings, indeed! i've seen sir huon and a troop of his people setting off from tintagel castle for hy-brasil in the teeth of a sou'-westerly gale, with the spray flying all over the castle, and the horses of the hills wild with fright. out they'd go in a lull, screaming like gulls, and back they'd be driven five good miles inland before they could come head to wind again. butterfly-wings! it was magic--magic as black as merlin could make it, and the whole sea was green fire and white foam with singing mermaids in it. and the horses of the hills picked their way from one wave to another by the lightning flashes! _that_ was how it was in the old days!' 'splendid,' said dan, but una shuddered. 'i'm glad they're gone, then; but what made the people of the hills go away?' una asked. 'different things. i'll tell you one of them some day--the thing that made the biggest flit of any,' said puck. 'but they didn't all flit at once. they dropped off, one by one, through the centuries. most of them were foreigners who couldn't stand our climate. _they_ flitted early.' 'how early?' said dan. 'a couple of thousand years or more. the fact is they began as gods. the phoenicians brought some over when they came to buy tin; and the gauls, and the jutes, and the danes, and the frisians, and the angles brought more when they landed. they were always landing in those days, or being driven back to their ships, and they always brought their gods with them. england is a bad country for gods. now, _i_ began as i mean to go on. a bowl of porridge, a dish of milk, and a little quiet fun with the country folk in the lanes was enough for me then, as it is now. i belong here, you see, and i have been mixed up with people all my days. but most of the others insisted on being gods, and having temples, and altars, and priests, and sacrifices of their own.' 'people burned in wicker baskets?' said dan. 'like miss blake tells us about?' 'all sorts of sacrifices,' said puck. 'if it wasn't men, it was horses, or cattle, or pigs, or metheglin--that's a sticky, sweet sort of beer. _i_ never liked it. they were a stiff-necked, extravagant set of idols, the old things. but what was the result? men don't like being sacrificed at the best of times; they don't even like sacrificing their farm-horses. after a while, men simply left the old things alone, and the roofs of their temples fell in, and the old things had to scuttle out and pick up a living as they could. some of them took to hanging about trees, and hiding in graves and groaning o' nights. if they groaned loud enough and long enough they might frighten a poor countryman into sacrificing a hen, or leaving a pound of butter for them. i remember one goddess called belisama. she became a common wet water-spirit somewhere in lancashire. and there were hundreds of other friends of mine. first they were gods. then they were people of the hills, and then they flitted to other places because they couldn't get on with the english for one reason or another. there was only one old thing, i remember, who honestly worked for his living after he came down in the world. he was called weland, and he was a smith to some gods. i've forgotten their names, but he used to make them swords and spears. i think he claimed kin with thor of the scandinavians.' '_heroes of asgard_ thor?' said una. she had been reading the book. 'perhaps,' answered puck. 'none the less, when bad times came, he didn't beg or steal. he worked; and i was lucky enough to be able to do him a good turn.' 'tell us about it,' said dan. 'i think i like hearing of old things.' they rearranged themselves comfortably, each chewing a grass stem. puck propped himself on one strong arm and went on: 'let's think! i met weland first on a november afternoon in a sleet storm, on pevensey level----' 'pevensey? over the hill, you mean?' dan pointed south. 'yes; but it was all marsh in those days, right up to horsebridge and hydeneye. i was on beacon hill--they called it brunanburgh then--when i saw the pale flame that burning thatch makes, and i went down to look. some pirates--i think they must have been peofn's men--were burning a village on the levels, and weland's image--a big, black wooden thing with amber beads round his neck--lay in the bows of a black thirty-two-oar galley that they had just beached. bitter cold it was! there were icicles hanging from her deck and the oars were glazed over with ice, and there was ice on weland's lips. when he saw me he began a long chant in his own tongue, telling me how he was going to rule england, and how i should smell the smoke of his altars from lincolnshire to the isle of wight. i didn't care! i'd seen too many gods charging into old england to be upset about it. i let him sing himself out while his men were burning the village, and then i said (i don't know what put it into my head), "smith of the gods," i said, "the time comes when i shall meet you plying your trade for hire by the wayside."' 'what did weland say?' said una. 'was he angry?' 'he called me names and rolled his eyes, and i went away to wake up the people inland. but the pirates conquered the country, and for centuries weland was a most important god. he had temples everywhere--from lincolnshire to the isle of wight, as he said--and his sacrifices were simply scandalous. to do him justice, he preferred horses to men; but men or horses, i knew that presently he'd have to come down in the world--like the other old things. i gave him lots of time--i gave him about a thousand years--and at the end of 'em i went into one of his temples near andover to see how he prospered. there was his altar, and there was his image, and there were his priests, and there were the congregation, and everybody seemed quite happy, except weland and the priests. in the old days the congregation were unhappy until the priests had chosen their sacrifices; and so would you have been. when the service began a priest rushed out, dragged a man up to the altar, pretended to hit him on the head with a little gilt axe, and the man fell down and pretended to die. then everybody shouted: "a sacrifice to weland! a sacrifice to weland!"' 'and the man wasn't really dead?' said una. 'not a bit. all as much pretence as a dolls' tea-party. then they brought out a splendid white horse, and the priest cut some hair from its mane and tail and burned it on the altar, shouting, "a sacrifice!" that counted the same as if a man and a horse had been killed. i saw poor weland's face through the smoke, and i couldn't help laughing. he looked so disgusted and so hungry, and all he had to satisfy himself was a horrid smell of burning hair. just a dolls' tea-party! 'i judged it better not to say anything then ('twouldn't have been fair), and the next time i came to andover, a few hundred years later, weland and his temple were gone, and there was a christian bishop in a church there. none of the people of the hills could tell me anything about him, and i supposed that he had left england.' puck turned; lay on the other elbow, and thought for a long time. 'let's see,' he said at last. 'it must have been some few years later--a year or two before the conquest, i think--that i came back to pook's hill here, and one evening i heard old hobden talking about weland's ford.' 'if you mean old hobden the hedger, he's only seventy-two. he told me so himself,' said dan. 'he's a intimate friend of ours.' 'you're quite right,' puck replied. 'i meant old hobden's ninth great-grandfather. he was a free man and burned charcoal hereabouts. i've known the family, father and son, so long that i get confused sometimes. hob of the dene was my hobden's name, and he lived at the forge cottage. of course, i pricked up my ears when i heard weland mentioned, and i scuttled through the woods to the ford just beyond bog wood yonder.' he jerked his head westward, where the valley narrows between wooded hills and steep hop-fields. 'why, that's willingford bridge,' said una. 'we go there for walks often. there's a kingfisher there.' 'it was weland's ford then, dear. a road led down to it from the beacon on the top of the hill--a shocking bad road it was--and all the hillside was thick, thick oak-forest, with deer in it. there was no trace of weland, but presently i saw a fat old farmer riding down from the beacon under the greenwood tree. his horse had cast a shoe in the clay, and when he came to the ford he dismounted, took a penny out of his purse, laid it on a stone, tied the old horse to an oak, and called out: "smith, smith, here is work for you!" then he sat down and went to sleep. you can imagine how _i_ felt when i saw a white-bearded, bent old blacksmith in a leather apron creep out from behind the oak and begin to shoe the horse. it was weland himself. i was so astonished that i jumped out and said: "what on human earth are you doing here, weland?"' 'poor weland!' sighed una. 'he pushed the long hair back from his forehead (he didn't recognize me at first). then he said: "_you_ ought to know. you foretold it, old thing. i'm shoeing horses for hire. i'm not even weland now," he said. "they call me wayland-smith."' 'poor chap!' said dan. 'what did you say?' 'what could i say? he looked up, with the horse's foot on his lap, and he said, smiling, "i remember the time when i wouldn't have accepted this old bag of bones as a sacrifice, and now i'm glad enough to shoe him for a penny." '"isn't there any way for you to get back to valhalla, or wherever you come from?" i said. '"i'm afraid not," he said, rasping away at the hoof. he had a wonderful touch with horses. the old beast was whinnying on his shoulder. "you may remember that i was not a gentle god in my day and my time and my power. i shall never be released till some human being truly wishes me well." '"surely," said i, "the farmer can't do less than that. you're shoeing the horse all round for him." '"yes," said he, "and my nails will hold a shoe from one full moon to the next. but farmers and weald clay," said he, "are both uncommon cold and sour." 'would you believe it, that when that farmer woke and found his horse shod he rode away without one word of thanks? i was so angry that i wheeled his horse right round and walked him back three miles to the beacon, just to teach the old sinner politeness.' 'were you invisible?' said una. puck nodded, gravely. 'the beacon was always laid in those days ready to light, in case the french landed at pevensey; and i walked the horse about and about it that lee-long summer night. the farmer thought he was bewitched--well, he _was_, of course--and began to pray and shout. _i_ didn't care! i was as good a christian as he any fair-day in the county, and about four o'clock in the morning a young novice came along from the monastery that used to stand on the top of beacon hill.' 'what's a novice?' said dan. 'it really means a man who is beginning to be a monk, but in those days people sent their sons to a monastery just the same as a school. this young fellow had been to a monastery in france for a few months every year, and he was finishing his studies in the monastery close to his home here. hugh was his name, and he had got up to go fishing hereabouts. his people owned all this valley. hugh heard the farmer shouting, and asked him what in the world he meant. the old man spun him a wonderful tale about fairies and goblins and witches; and i _know_ he hadn't seen a thing except rabbits and red deer all that night. (the people of the hills are like otters--they don't show except when they choose.) but the novice wasn't a fool. he looked down at the horse's feet, and saw the new shoes fastened as only weland knew how to fasten 'em. (weland had a way of turning down the nails that folks called the smith's clinch.) '"h'm!" said the novice. "where did you get your horse shod?" 'the farmer wouldn't tell him at first, because the priests never liked their people to have any dealings with the old things. at last he confessed that the smith had done it. "what did you pay him?" said the novice. "penny," said the farmer, very sulkily. "that's less than a christian would have charged," said the novice. "i hope you threw a 'thank you' into the bargain." "no," said the farmer; "wayland-smith's a heathen." "heathen or no heathen," said the novice, "you took his help, and where you get help there you must give thanks." "what?" said the farmer--he was in a furious temper because i was walking the old horse in circles all this time--"what, you young jackanapes?" said he. "then by your reasoning i ought to say 'thank you' to satan if he helped me?" "don't roll about up there splitting reasons with me," said the novice. "come back to the ford and thank the smith, or you'll be sorry." 'back the farmer had to go. i led the horse, though no one saw me, and the novice walked beside us, his gown swishing through the shiny dew and his fishing-rod across his shoulders, spear-wise. when we reached the ford again--it was five o'clock and misty still under the oaks--the farmer simply wouldn't say "thank you." he said he'd tell the abbot that the novice wanted him to worship heathen gods. then hugh the novice lost his temper. he just cried, "out!" put his arm under the farmer's fat leg, and heaved him from his saddle on to the turf, and before he could rise he caught him by the back of the neck and shook him like a rat till the farmer growled, "thank you, wayland-smith."' 'did weland see all this?' said dan. 'oh yes, and he shouted his old war-cry when the farmer thudded on to the ground. he was delighted. then the novice turned to the oak tree and said, "ho, smith of the gods! i am ashamed of this rude farmer; but for all you have done in kindness and charity to him and to others of our people, i thank you and wish you well." then he picked up his fishing-rod--it looked more like a tall spear than ever--and tramped off down your valley.' 'and what did poor weland do?' said una. 'he laughed and he cried with joy, because he had been released at last, and could go away. but he was an honest old thing. he had worked for his living and he paid his debts before he left. "i shall give that novice a gift," said weland. "a gift that shall do him good the wide world over and old england after him. blow up my fire, old thing, while i get the iron for my last task." then he made a sword--a dark-grey, wavy-lined sword--and i blew the fire while he hammered. by oak, ash and thorn, i tell you, weland was a smith of the gods! he cooled that sword in running water twice, and the third time he cooled it in the evening dew, and he laid it out in the moonlight and said runes (that's charms) over it, and he carved runes of prophecy on the blade. "old thing," he said to me, wiping his forehead, "this is the best blade that weland ever made. even the user will never know how good it is. come to the monastery." 'we went to the dormitory where the monks slept, we saw the novice fast asleep in his cot, and weland put the sword into his hand, and i remember the young fellow gripped it in his sleep. then weland strode as far as he dared into the chapel and threw down all his shoeing-tools--his hammers and pincers and rasps--to show that he had done with them for ever. it sounded like suits of armour falling, and the sleepy monks ran in, for they thought the monastery had been attacked by the french. the novice came first of all, waving his new sword and shouting saxon battle-cries. when they saw the shoeing-tools they were very bewildered, till the novice asked leave to speak, and told what he had done to the farmer, and what he had said to wayland-smith, and how, though the dormitory light was burning, he had found the wonderful rune-carved sword in his cot. 'the abbot shook his head at first, and then he laughed and said to the novice: "son hugh, it needed no sign from a heathen god to show me that you will never be a monk. take your sword, and keep your sword, and go with your sword, and be as gentle as you are strong and courteous. we will hang up the smith's tools before the altar," he said, "because, whatever the smith of the gods may have been, in the old days, we know that he worked honestly for his living and made gifts to mother church." then they went to bed again, all except the novice, and he sat up in the garth playing with his sword. then weland said to me by the stables: "farewell, old thing; you had the right of it. you saw me come to england, and you see me go. farewell!" 'with that he strode down the hill to the corner of the great woods--woods corner, you call it now--to the very place where he had first landed--and i heard him moving through the thickets towards horsebridge for a little, and then he was gone. that was how it happened. i saw it.' both children drew a long breath. 'but what happened to hugh the novice?' said una. 'and the sword?' said dan. puck looked down the meadow that lay all quiet and cool in the shadow of pook's hill. a corncrake jarred in a hay-field near by, and the small trouts of the brook began to jump. a big white moth flew unsteadily from the alders and flapped round the children's heads, and the least little haze of water-mist rose from the brook. 'do you really want to know?' puck said. 'we do,' cried the children. 'awfully!' 'very good. i promised you that you shall see what you shall see, and you shall hear what you shall hear, though it shall have happened three thousand year; but just now it seems to me that, unless you go back to the house, people will be looking for you. i'll walk with you as far as the gate.' 'will you be here when we come again?' they asked. 'surely, sure-ly,' said puck. 'i've been here some time already. one minute first, please.' he gave them each three leaves--one of oak, one of ash and one of thorn. 'bite these,' said he. 'otherwise you might be talking at home of what you've seen and heard, and--if i know human beings--they'd send for the doctor. bite!' they bit hard, and found themselves walking side by side to the lower gate. their father was leaning over it. 'and how did your play go?' he asked. 'oh, splendidly,' said dan. 'only afterwards, i think, we went to sleep. it was very hot and quiet. don't you remember, una?' una shook her head and said nothing. 'i see,' said her father. 'late--late in the evening kilmeny came home, for kilmeny had been she could not tell where, and kilmeny had seen what she could not declare. but why are you chewing leaves at your time of life, daughter? for fun?' 'no. it was for something, but i can't azactly remember,' said una. and neither of them could till---- a tree song of all the trees that grow so fair, old england to adorn, greater are none beneath the sun, than oak, and ash, and thorn. sing oak, and ash, and thorn, good sirs (all of a midsummer morn)! surely we sing no little thing, in oak, and ash, and thorn! oak of the clay lived many a day, or ever Æneas began; ash of the loam was a lady at home, when brut was an outlaw man; thorn of the down saw new troy town (from which was london born); witness hereby the ancientry of oak, and ash, and thorn! yew that is old in churchyard mould, he breedeth a mighty bow; alder for shoes do wise men choose, and beech for cups also. but when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled, and your shoes are clean outworn, back ye must speed for all that ye need, to oak and ash and thorn! ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth till every gust be laid, to drop a limb on the head of him that anyway trusts her shade: but whether a lad be sober or sad, or mellow with ale from the horn, he will take no wrong when he lieth along 'neath oak, and ash, and thorn! oh, do not tell the priest our plight, or he would call it a sin; but--we have been out in the woods all night, a-conjuring summer in! and we bring you news by word of mouth-- good news for cattle and corn-- now is the sun come up from the south, with oak, and ash, and thorn! sing oak, and ash, and thorn, good sirs (all of a midsummer morn)! england shall bide till judgement tide, by oak and ash and thorn! young men at the manor they were fishing, a few days later, in the bed of the brook that for centuries had cut deep into the soft valley soil. the trees closing overhead made long tunnels through which the sunshine worked in blobs and patches. down in the tunnels were bars of sand and gravel, old roots and trunks covered with moss or painted red by the irony water; foxgloves growing lean and pale towards the light; clumps of fern and thirsty shy flowers who could not live away from moisture and shade. in the pools you could see the wave thrown up by the trouts as they charged hither and yon, and the pools were joined to each other--except in flood time, when all was one brown rush--by sheets of thin broken water that poured themselves chuckling round the darkness of the next bend. this was one of the children's most secret hunting-grounds, and their particular friend, old hobden the hedger, had shown them how to use it. except for the click of a rod hitting a low willow, or a switch and tussle among the young ash-leaves as a line hung up for the minute, nobody in the hot pasture could have guessed what game was going on among the trouts below the banks. 'we've got half-a-dozen,' said dan, after a warm, wet hour. 'i vote we go up to stone bay and try long pool.' una nodded--most of her talk was by nods--and they crept from the gloom of the tunnels towards the tiny weir that turns the brook into the mill-stream. here the banks are low and bare, and the glare of the afternoon sun on the long pool below the weir makes your eyes ache. when they were in the open they nearly fell down with astonishment. a huge grey horse, whose tail-hairs crinkled the glassy water, was drinking in the pool, and the ripples about his muzzle flashed like melted gold. on his back sat an old, white-haired man dressed in a loose glimmery gown of chain-mail. he was bare-headed, and a nut-shaped iron helmet hung at his saddle-bow. his reins were of red leather five or six inches deep, scalloped at the edges, and his high padded saddle with its red girths was held fore and aft by a red leather breastband and crupper. 'look!' said una, as though dan were not staring his very eyes out. 'it's like the picture in your room--"sir isumbras at the ford".' the rider turned towards them, and his thin, long face was just as sweet and gentle as that of the knight who carries the children in that picture. 'they should be here now, sir richard,' said puck's deep voice among the willow-herb. 'they are here,' the knight said, and he smiled at dan with the string of trouts in his hand. 'there seems no great change in boys since mine fished this water.' 'if your horse has drunk, we shall be more at ease in the ring,' said puck; and he nodded to the children as though he had never magicked away their memories a week before. the great horse turned and hoisted himself into the pasture with a kick and a scramble that tore the clods down rattling. 'your pardon!' said sir richard to dan. 'when these lands were mine, i never loved that mounted men should cross the brook except by the paved ford. but my swallow here was thirsty, and i wished to meet you.' 'we're very glad you've come, sir,' said dan. 'it doesn't matter in the least about the banks.' he trotted across the pasture on the sword side of the mighty horse, and it was a mighty iron-handled sword that swung from sir richard's belt. una walked behind with puck. she remembered everything now. 'i'm sorry about the leaves,' he said, 'but it would never have done if you had gone home and told, would it?' 'i s'pose not,' una answered. 'but you said that all the fair--people of the hills had left england.' 'so they have; but i told you that you should come and go and look and know, didn't i? the knight isn't a fairy. he's sir richard dalyngridge, a very old friend of mine. he came over with william the conqueror, and he wants to see you particularly.' 'what for?' said una. 'on account of your great wisdom and learning,' puck replied, without a twinkle. 'us?' said una. 'why, i don't know my nine times--not to say it dodging, and dan makes the most _awful_ mess of fractions. he can't mean _us_!' 'una!' dan called back. 'sir richard says he is going to tell what happened to weland's sword. he's got it. isn't it splendid?' 'nay--nay,' said sir richard, dismounting as they reached the ring, in the bend of the mill-stream bank. 'it is you that must tell me, for i hear the youngest child in our england today is as wise as our wisest clerk.' he slipped the bit out of swallow's mouth, dropped the ruby-red reins over his head, and the wise horse moved off to graze. sir richard (they noticed he limped a little) unslung his great sword. 'that's it,' dan whispered to una. 'this is the sword that brother hugh had from wayland-smith,' sir richard said. 'once he gave it me, but i would not take it; but at the last it became mine after such a fight as never christened man fought. see!' he half drew it from its sheath and turned it before them. on either side just below the handle, where the runic letters shivered as though they were alive, were two deep gouges in the dull, deadly steel. 'now, what thing made those?' said he. 'i know not, but you, perhaps, can say.' 'tell them all the tale, sir richard,' said puck. 'it concerns their land somewhat.' 'yes, from the very beginning,' una pleaded, for the knight's good face and the smile on it more than ever reminded her of 'sir isumbras at the ford'. they settled down to listen, sir richard bare-headed to the sunshine, dandling the sword in both hands, while the grey horse cropped outside the ring, and the helmet on the saddle-bow clinged softly each time he jerked his head. 'from the beginning, then,' sir richard said, 'since it concerns your land, i will tell the tale. when our duke came out of normandy to take his england, great knights (have ye heard?) came and strove hard to serve the duke, because he promised them lands here, and small knights followed the great ones. my folk in normandy were poor; but a great knight, engerrard of the eagle--engenulf de aquila--who was kin to my father, followed the earl of mortain, who followed william the duke, and i followed de aquila. yes, with thirty men-at-arms out of my father's house and a new sword, i set out to conquer england three days after i was made knight. i did not then know that england would conquer me. we went up to santlache with the rest--a very great host of us.' 'does that mean the battle of hastings--ten sixty-six?' una whispered, and puck nodded, so as not to interrupt. 'at santlache, over the hill yonder'--he pointed south-eastward towards fairlight--'we found harold's men. we fought. at the day's end they ran. my men went with de aquila's to chase and plunder, and in that chase engerrard of the eagle was slain, and his son gilbert took his banner and his men forward. this i did not know till after, for swallow here was cut in the flank, so i stayed to wash the wound at a brook by a thorn. there a single saxon cried out to me in french, and we fought together. i should have known his voice, but we fought together. for a long time neither had any advantage, till by pure ill-fortune his foot slipped and his sword flew from his hand. now i had but newly been made knight, and wished, above all, to be courteous and fameworthy, so i forbore to strike and bade him get his sword again. "a plague on my sword," said he. "it has lost me my first fight. you have spared my life. take my sword." he held it out to me, but as i stretched my hand the sword groaned like a stricken man, and i leaped back crying, "sorcery!"' [the children looked at the sword as though it might speak again.] 'suddenly a clump of saxons ran out upon me and, seeing a norman alone, would have killed me, but my saxon cried out that i was his prisoner, and beat them off. thus, see you, he saved my life. he put me on my horse and led me through the woods ten long miles to this valley.' 'to here, d'you mean?' said una. 'to this very valley. we came in by the lower ford under the king's hill yonder'--he pointed eastward where the valley widens. 'and was that saxon hugh the novice?' dan asked. 'yes, and more than that. he had been for three years at the monastery at bec by rouen, where'--sir richard chuckled--'the abbot herluin would not suffer me to remain.' 'why wouldn't he?' said dan. 'because i rode my horse into the refectory, when the scholars were at meat, to show the saxon boys we normans were not afraid of an abbot. it was that very saxon hugh tempted me to do it, and we had not met since that day. i thought i knew his voice even inside my helmet, and, for all that our lords fought, we each rejoiced we had not slain the other. he walked by my side, and he told me how a heathen god, as he believed, had given him his sword, but he said he had never heard it sing before. i remember i warned him to beware of sorcery and quick enchantments.' sir richard smiled to himself. 'i was very young--very young! 'when we came to his house here we had almost forgotten that we had been at blows. it was near midnight, and the great hall was full of men and women waiting news. there i first saw his sister, the lady Ælueva, of whom he had spoken to us in france. she cried out fiercely at me, and would have had me hanged in that hour, but her brother said that i had spared his life--he said not how he saved mine from the saxons--and that our duke had won the day; and even while they wrangled over my poor body, of a sudden he fell down in a swoon from his wounds. '"this is _thy_ fault," said the lady Ælueva to me, and she kneeled above him and called for wine and cloths. '"if i had known," i answered, "he should have ridden and i walked. but he set me on my horse; he made no complaint; he walked beside me and spoke merrily throughout. i pray i have done him no harm." '"thou hast need to pray," she said, catching up her underlip. "if he dies, thou shalt hang." 'they bore off hugh to his chamber; but three tall men of the house bound me and set me under the beam of the great hall with a rope round my neck. the end of the rope they flung over the beam, and they sat them down by the fire to wait word whether hugh lived or died. they cracked nuts with their knife-hilts the while.' 'and how did you feel?' said dan. 'very weary; but i did heartily pray for my schoolmate hugh his health. about noon i heard horses in the valley, and the three men loosed my ropes and fled out, and de aquila's men rode up. gilbert de aquila came with them, for it was his boast that, like his father, he forgot no man that served him. he was little, like his father, but terrible, with a nose like an eagle's nose and yellow eyes like an eagle. he rode tall warhorses--roans, which he bred himself--and he could never abide to be helped into the saddle. he saw the rope hanging from the beam and laughed, and his men laughed, for i was too stiff to rise. '"this is poor entertainment for a norman knight," he said, "but, such as it is, let us be grateful. show me, boy, to whom thou owest most, and we will pay them out of hand."' 'what did he mean? to kill 'em?' said dan. 'assuredly. but i looked at the lady Ælueva where she stood among her maids, and her brother beside her. de aquila's men had driven them all into the great hall.' 'was she pretty?' said una. 'in all my long life i have never seen woman fit to strew rushes before my lady Ælueva,' the knight replied, quite simply and quietly. 'as i looked at her i thought i might save her and her house by a jest. '"seeing that i came somewhat hastily and without warning," said i to de aquila, "i have no fault to find with the courtesy that these saxons have shown me." but my voice shook. it is--it was not good to jest with that little man. 'all were silent awhile, till de aquila laughed. "look, men--a miracle," said he. "the fight is scarce sped, my father is not yet buried, and here we find our youngest knight already set down in his manor, while his saxons--ye can see it in their fat faces--have paid him homage and service! by the saints," he said, rubbing his nose, "i never thought england would be so easy won! surely i can do no less than give the lad what he has taken. this manor shall be thine, boy," he said, "till i come again, or till thou art slain. now, mount, men, and ride. we follow our duke into kent to make him king of england." 'he drew me with him to the door while they brought his horse--a lean roan, taller than my swallow here, but not so well girthed. '"hark to me," he said, fretting with his great war-gloves. "i have given thee this manor, which is a saxon hornets' nest, and i think thou wilt be slain in a month--as my father was slain. yet if thou canst keep the roof on the hall, the thatch on the barn, and the plough in the furrow till i come back, thou shalt hold the manor from me; for the duke has promised our earl mortain all the lands by pevensey, and mortain will give me of them what he would have given my father. god knows if thou or i shall live till england is won; but remember, boy, that here and now fighting is foolishness and"--he reached for the reins--"craft and cunning is all." '"alas, i have no cunning," said i. '"not yet," said he, hopping abroad, foot in stirrup, and poking his horse in the belly with his toe. "not yet, but i think thou hast a good teacher. farewell! hold the manor and live. lose the manor and hang," he said, and spurred out, his shield-straps squeaking behind him. 'so, children, here was i, little more than a boy, and santlache fight not two days old, left alone with my thirty men-at-arms, in a land i knew not, among a people whose tongue i could not speak, to hold down the land which i had taken from them.' 'and that was here at home?' said una. 'yes, here. see! from the upper ford, weland's ford, to the lower ford, by the belle allée, west and east it ran half a league. from the beacon of brunanburgh behind us here, south and north it ran a full league--and all the woods were full of broken men from santlache, saxon thieves, norman plunderers, robbers, and deer-stealers. a hornets' nest indeed! 'when de aquila had gone, hugh would have thanked me for saving their lives; but the lady Ælueva said that i had done it only for the sake of receiving the manor. '"how could i know that de aquila would give it me?" i said. "if i had told him i had spent my night in your halter he would have burned the place twice over by now." '"if any man had put _my_ neck in a rope," she said, "i would have seen his house burned thrice over before _i_ would have made terms." '"but it was a woman," i said; and i laughed, and she wept and said that i mocked her in her captivity. '"lady," said i, "there is no captive in this valley except one, and he is not a saxon." 'at this she cried that i was a norman thief, who came with false, sweet words, having intended from the first to turn her out in the fields to beg her bread. into the fields! she had never seen the face of war! 'i was angry, and answered, "this much at least i can disprove, for i swear"--and on my sword-hilt i swore it in that place--"i swear i will never set foot in the great hall till the lady Ælueva herself shall summon me there." 'she went away, saying nothing, and i walked out, and hugh limped after me, whistling dolorously (that is a custom of the english), and we came upon the three saxons that had bound me. they were now bound by my men-at-arms, and behind them stood some fifty stark and sullen churls of the house and the manor, waiting to see what should fall. we heard de aquila's trumpets blow thin through the woods kentward. '"shall we hang these?" said my men. '"then my churls will fight," said hugh, beneath his breath; but i bade him ask the three what mercy they hoped for. '"none," said they all. "she bade us hang thee if our master died. and we would have hanged thee. there is no more to it." 'as i stood doubting, a woman ran down from the oak wood above the king's hill yonder, and cried out that some normans were driving off the swine there. '"norman or saxon," said i, "we must beat them back, or they will rob us every day. out at them with any arms ye have!" so i loosed those three carles and we ran together, my men-at-arms and the saxons with bills and axes which they had hidden in the thatch of their huts, and hugh led them. half-way up the king's hill we found a false fellow from picardy--a sutler that sold wine in the duke's camp--with a dead knight's shield on his arm, a stolen horse under him, and some ten or twelve wastrels at his tail, all cutting and slashing at the pigs. we beat them off, and saved our pork. one hundred and seventy pigs we saved in that great battle.' sir richard laughed. 'that, then, was our first work together, and i bade hugh tell his folk that so would i deal with any man, knight or churl, norman or saxon, who stole as much as one egg from our valley. said he to me, riding home: "thou hast gone far to conquer england this evening." i answered: "england must be thine and mine, then. help me, hugh, to deal aright with these people. make them to know that if they slay me de aquila will surely send to slay them, and he will put a worse man in my place." "that may well be true," said he, and gave me his hand. "better the devil we know than the devil we know not, till we can pack you normans home." and so, too, said his saxons; and they laughed as we drove the pigs downhill. but i think some of them, even then, began not to hate me.' 'i like brother hugh,' said una, softly. 'beyond question he was the most perfect, courteous, valiant, tender, and wise knight that ever drew breath,' said sir richard, caressing the sword. 'he hung up his sword--this sword--on the wall of the great hall, because he said it was fairly mine, and never he took it down till de aquila returned, as i shall presently show. for three months his men and mine guarded the valley, till all robbers and nightwalkers learned there was nothing to get from us save hard tack and a hanging. side by side we fought against all who came--thrice a week sometimes we fought--against thieves and landless knights looking for good manors. then we were in some peace, and i made shift by hugh's help to govern the valley--for all this valley of yours was my manor--as a knight should. i kept the roof on the hall and the thatch on the barn, but ... the english are a bold people. his saxons would laugh and jest with hugh, and hugh with them, and--this was marvellous to me--if even the meanest of them said that such and such a thing was the custom of the manor, then straightway would hugh and such old men of the manor as might be near forsake everything else to debate the matter--i have seen them stop the mill with the corn half ground--and if the custom or usage were proven to be as it was said, why, that was the end of it, even though it were flat against hugh, his wish and command. wonderful!' 'aye,' said puck, breaking in for the first time. 'the custom of old england was here before your norman knights came, and it outlasted them, though they fought against it cruel.' 'not i,' said sir richard. 'i let the saxons go their stubborn way, but when my own men-at-arms, normans not six months in england, stood up and told me what was the custom of the country, then i was angry. ah, good days! ah, wonderful people! and i loved them all.' the knight lifted his arms as though he would hug the whole dear valley, and swallow, hearing the chink of his chain-mail, looked up and whinnied softly. 'at last,' he went on, 'after a year of striving and contriving and some little driving, de aquila came to the valley, alone and without warning. i saw him first at the lower ford, with a swineherd's brat on his saddle-bow. '"there is no need for thee to give any account of thy stewardship," said he. "i have it all from the child here." and he told me how the young thing had stopped his tall horse at the ford, by waving of a branch, and crying that the way was barred. "and if one bold, bare babe be enough to guard the ford in these days, thou hast done well," said he, and puffed and wiped his head. 'he pinched the child's cheek, and looked at our cattle in the flat by the river. '"both fat," said he, rubbing his nose. "this is craft and cunning such as i love. what did i tell thee when i rode away, boy?" '"hold the manor or hang," said i. i had never forgotten it. '"true. and thou hast held." he clambered from his saddle and with his sword's point cut out a turf from the bank and gave it me where i kneeled.' dan looked at una, and una looked at dan. 'that's seizin,' said puck, in a whisper. '"now thou art lawfully seized of the manor, sir richard," said he--'twas the first time he ever called me that--"thou and thy heirs for ever. this must serve till the king's clerks write out thy title on a parchment. england is all ours--if we can hold it." '"what service shall i pay?" i asked, and i remember i was proud beyond words. '"knight's fee, boy, knight's fee!" said he, hopping round his horse on one foot. (have i said he was little, and could not endure to be helped to his saddle?) "six mounted men or twelve archers thou shalt send me whenever i call for them, and--where got you that corn?" said he, for it was near harvest, and our corn stood well. "i have never seen such bright straw. send me three bags of the same seed yearly, and furthermore, in memory of our last meeting--with the rope round thy neck--entertain me and my men for two days of each year in the great hall of thy manor." '"alas!" said i, "then my manor is already forfeit. i am under vow not to enter the great hall." and i told him what i had sworn to the lady Ælueva.' 'and hadn't you ever been into the house since?' said una. 'never,' sir richard answered, smiling. 'i had made me a little hut of wood up the hill, and there i did justice and slept ... de aquila wheeled aside, and his shield shook on his back. "no matter, boy," said he. "i will remit the homage for a year."' 'he meant sir richard needn't give him dinner there the first year,' puck explained. 'de aquila stayed with me in the hut, and hugh, who could read and write and cast accounts, showed him the roll of the manor, in which were written all the names of our fields and men, and he asked a thousand questions touching the land, the timber, the grazing, the mill, and the fish-ponds, and the worth of every man in the valley. but never he named the lady Ælueva's name, nor went he near the great hall. by night he drank with us in the hut. yes, he sat on the straw like an eagle ruffled in her feathers, his yellow eyes rolling above the cup, and he pounced in his talk like an eagle, swooping from one thing to another, but always binding fast. yes; he would lie still awhile, and then rustle in the straw, and speak sometimes as though he were king william himself, and anon he would speak in parables and tales, and if at once we saw not his meaning he would yerk us in the ribs with his scabbarded sword. '"look you, boys," said he, "i am born out of my due time. five hundred years ago i would have made all england such an england as neither dane, saxon, nor norman should have conquered. five hundred years hence i should have been such a counsellor to kings as the world hath never dreamed of. 'tis all here," said he, tapping his big head, "but it hath no play in this black age. now hugh here is a better man than thou art, richard." he had made his voice harsh and croaking, like a raven's. '"truth," said i. "but for hugh, his help and patience and long-suffering, i could never have kept the manor." '"nor thy life either," said de aquila. "hugh has saved thee not once, but a hundred times. be still, hugh!" he said. "dost thou know, richard, why hugh slept, and why he still sleeps, among thy norman men-at-arms?" '"to be near me," said i, for i thought this was truth. '"fool!" said de aquila. "it is because his saxons have begged him to rise against thee, and to sweep every norman out of the valley. no matter how i know. it is truth. therefore hugh hath made himself an hostage for thy life, well knowing that if any harm befell thee from his saxons thy normans would slay him without remedy. and this his saxons know. is it true, hugh?" '"in some sort," said hugh shamefacedly; "at least, it was true half a year ago. my saxons would not harm richard now. i think they know him--but i judged it best to make sure." 'look, children, what that man had done--and i had never guessed it! night after night had he lain down among my men-at-arms, knowing that if one saxon had lifted knife against me, his life would have answered for mine. '"yes," said de aquila. "and he is a swordless man." he pointed to hugh's belt, for hugh had put away his sword--did i tell you?--the day after it flew from his hand at santlache. he carried only the short knife and the long-bow. "swordless and landless art thou, hugh; and they call thee kin to earl godwin." (hugh was indeed of godwin's blood.) "the manor that was thine is given to this boy and to his children for ever. sit up and beg, for he can turn thee out like a dog, hugh." 'hugh said nothing, but i heard his teeth grind, and i bade de aquila, my own overlord, hold his peace, or i would stuff his words down his throat. then de aquila laughed till the tears ran down his face. '"i warned the king," said he, "what would come of giving england to us norman thieves. here art thou, richard, less than two days confirmed in thy manor, and already thou hast risen against thy overlord. what shall we do to him, _sir_ hugh?" '"i am a swordless man," said hugh. "do not jest with me," and he laid his head on his knees and groaned. '"the greater fool thou," said de aquila, and all his voice changed; "for i have given thee the manor of dallington up the hill this half-hour since," and he yerked at hugh with his scabbard across the straw. '"to me?" said hugh. "i am a saxon, and, except that i love richard here, i have not sworn fealty to any norman." '"in god's good time, which because of my sins i shall not live to see, there will be neither saxon nor norman in england," said de aquila. "if i know men, thou art more faithful unsworn than a score of normans i could name. take dallington, and join sir richard to fight me tomorrow, if it please thee!" '"nay," said hugh. "i am no child. where i take a gift, there i render service"; and he put his hands between de aquila's, and swore to be faithful, and, as i remember, i kissed him, and de aquila kissed us both. 'we sat afterwards outside the hut while the sun rose, and de aquila marked our churls going to their work in the fields, and talked of holy things, and how we should govern our manors in time to come, and of hunting and of horse-breeding, and of the king's wisdom and unwisdom; for he spoke to us as though we were in all sorts now his brothers. anon a churl stole up to me--he was one of the three i had not hanged a year ago--and he bellowed--which is the saxon for whispering--that the lady Ælueva would speak to me at the great house. she walked abroad daily in the manor, and it was her custom to send me word whither she went, that i might set an archer or two behind and in front to guard her. very often i myself lay up in the woods and watched on her also. 'i went swiftly, and as i passed the great door it opened from within, and there stood my lady Ælueva, and she said to me: "sir richard, will it please you enter your great hall?" then she wept, but we were alone.' the knight was silent for a long time, his face turned across the valley, smiling. 'oh, well done!' said una, and clapped her hands very softly. 'she was sorry, and she said so.' 'aye, she was sorry, and she said so,' said sir richard, coming back with a little start. 'very soon--but _he_ said it was two full hours later--de aquila rode to the door, with his shield new scoured (hugh had cleansed it), and demanded entertainment, and called me a false knight, that would starve his overlord to death. then hugh cried out that no man should work in the valley that day, and our saxons blew horns, and set about feasting and drinking, and running of races, and dancing and singing; and de aquila climbed upon a horse-block and spoke to them in what he swore was good saxon, but no man understood it. at night we feasted in the great hall, and when the harpers and the singers were gone we four sat late at the high table. as i remember, it was a warm night with a full moon, and de aquila bade hugh take down his sword from the wall again, for the honour of the manor of dallington, and hugh took it gladly enough. dust lay on the hilt, for i saw him blow it off. 'she and i sat talking a little apart, and at first we thought the harpers had come back, for the great hall was filled with a rushing noise of music. de aquila leaped up; but there was only the moonlight fretty on the floor. '"hearken!" said hugh. "it is my sword," and as he belted it on the music ceased. '"over gods, forbid that i should ever belt blade like that," said de aquila. "what does it foretell?" '"the gods that made it may know. last time it spoke was at hastings, when i lost all my lands. belike it sings now that i have new lands and am a man again," said hugh. 'he loosed the blade a little and drove it back happily into the sheath, and the sword answered him low and crooningly, as--as a woman would speak to a man, her head on his shoulder. 'now that was the second time in all my life i heard this sword sing.'... 'look!' said una. 'there's mother coming down the long slip. what will she say to sir richard? she can't help seeing him.' 'and puck can't magic us this time,' said dan. 'are you sure?' said puck; and he leaned forward and whispered to sir richard, who, smiling, bowed his head. 'but what befell the sword and my brother hugh i will tell on another time,' said he, rising. 'ohé, swallow!' the great horse cantered up from the far end of the meadow, close to mother. they heard mother say: 'children, gleason's old horse has broken into the meadow again. where did he get through?' 'just below stone bay,' said dan. 'he tore down simple flobs of the bank! we noticed it just now. and we've caught no end of fish. we've been at it all the afternoon.' and they honestly believed that they had. they never noticed the oak, ash and thorn leaves that puck had slyly thrown into their laps. sir richard's song i followed my duke ere i was a lover, to take from england fief and fee; but now this game is the other way over-- but now england hath taken me! i had my horse, my shield and banner, and a boy's heart, so whole and free; but now i sing in another manner-- but now england hath taken me! as for my father in his tower, asking news of my ship at sea; he will remember his own hour-- tell him england hath taken me! as for my mother in her bower, that rules my father so cunningly; she will remember a maiden's power-- tell her england hath taken me! as for my brother in rouen city, a nimble and naughty page is he; but he will come to suffer and pity-- tell him england hath taken me! as for my little sister waiting in the pleasant orchards of normandie; tell her youth is the time of mating-- tell her england hath taken me! as for my comrades in camp and highway, that lift their eyebrows scornfully; tell them their way is not my way-- tell them england hath taken me! kings and princes and barons famed, knights and captains in your degree; hear me a little before i am blamed-- seeing england hath taken me! howso great man's strength be reckoned, there are two things he cannot flee; love is the first, and death is the second-- and love, in england, hath taken me! the knights of the joyous venture harp song of the dane women what is a woman that you forsake her, and the hearth-fire and the home-acre, to go with the old grey widow-maker? she has no house to lay a guest in-- but one chill bed for all to rest in, that the pale suns and the stray bergs nest in. she has no strong white arms to fold you, but the ten-times-fingering weed to hold you bound on the rocks where the tide has rolled you. yet, when the signs of summer thicken, and the ice breaks, and the birch-buds quicken, yearly you turn from our side, and sicken-- sicken again for the shouts and the slaughters,-- you steal away to the lapping waters, and look at your ship in her winter quarters. you forget our mirth, and talk at the tables, the kine in the shed and the horse in the stables-- to pitch her sides and go over her cables! then you drive out where the storm-clouds swallow: and the sound of your oar-blades falling hollow is all we have left through the months to follow. ah, what is a woman that you forsake her, and the hearth-fire and the home-acre, to go with the old grey widow-maker? it was too hot to run about in the open, so dan asked their friend, old hobden, to take their own dinghy from the pond and put her on the brook at the bottom of the garden. her painted name was the _daisy_, but for exploring expeditions she was the _golden hind_ or the _long serpent_, or some such suitable name. dan hiked and howked with a boat-hook (the brook was too narrow for sculls), and una punted with a piece of hop-pole. when they came to a very shallow place (the _golden hind_ drew quite three inches of water) they disembarked and scuffled her over the gravel by her tow-rope, and when they reached the overgrown banks beyond the garden they pulled themselves up stream by the low branches. that day they intended to discover the north cape like 'othere, the old sea-captain', in the book of verses which una had brought with her; but on account of the heat they changed it to a voyage up the amazon and the sources of the nile. even on the shaded water the air was hot and heavy with drowsy scents, while outside, through breaks in the trees, the sunshine burned the pasture like fire. the kingfisher was asleep on his watching-branch, and the blackbirds scarcely took the trouble to dive into the next bush. dragonflies wheeling and clashing were the only things at work, except the moorhens and a big red admiral, who flapped down out of the sunshine for a drink. when they reached otter pool the _golden hind_ grounded comfortably on a shallow, and they lay beneath a roof of close green, watching the water trickle over the flood-gates down the mossy brick chute from the mill-stream to the brook. a big trout--the children knew him well--rolled head and shoulders at some fly that sailed round the bend, while, once in just so often, the brook rose a fraction of an inch against all the wet pebbles, and they watched the slow draw and shiver of a breath of air through the tree-tops. then the little voices of the slipping water began again. 'it's like the shadows talking, isn't it?' said una. she had given up trying to read. dan lay over the bows, trailing his hands in the current. they heard feet on the gravel-bar that runs half across the pool and saw sir richard dalyngridge standing over them. 'was yours a dangerous voyage?' he asked, smiling. 'she bumped a lot, sir,' said dan. 'there's hardly any water this summer.' 'ah, the brook was deeper and wider when my children played at danish pirates. are you pirate-folk?' 'oh no. we gave up being pirates years ago,' explained una. 'we're nearly always explorers now. sailing round the world, you know.' 'round?' said sir richard. he sat him in the comfortable crotch of an old ash-root on the bank. 'how can it be round?' 'wasn't it in your books?' dan suggested. he had been doing geography at his last lesson. 'i can neither write nor read,' he replied. 'canst _thou_ read, child?' 'yes,' said dan, 'barring the very long words.' 'wonderful! read to me, that i may hear for myself.' dan flushed, but opened the book and began--gabbling a little--at 'the discoverer of the north cape.' 'othere, the old sea-captain, who dwelt in helgoland, to king alfred, the lover of truth, brought a snow-white walrus tooth, that he held in his brown right hand.' 'but--but--this i know! this is an old song! this i have heard sung! this is a miracle,' sir richard interrupted. 'nay, do not stop!' he leaned forward, and the shadows of the leaves slipped and slid upon his chain-mail. '"i ploughed the land with horses, but my heart was ill at ease, for the old sea-faring men came to me now and then with their sagas of the seas."' his hand fell on the hilt of the great sword. 'this is truth,' he cried, 'for so did it happen to me,' and he beat time delightedly to the tramp of verse after verse. '"and now the land," said othere, "bent southward suddenly, and i followed the curving shore, and ever southward bore into a nameless sea."' 'a nameless sea!' he repeated. 'so did i--so did hugh and i.' 'where did you go? tell us,' said una. 'wait. let me hear all first.' so dan read to the poem's very end. 'good,' said the knight. 'that is othere's tale--even as i have heard the men in the dane ships sing it. not in those same valiant words, but something like to them.' 'have you ever explored north?' dan shut the book. 'nay. my venture was south. farther south than any man has fared, hugh and i went down with witta and his heathen.' he jerked the tall sword forward, and leaned on it with both hands; but his eyes looked long past them. 'i thought you always lived here,' said una, timidly. 'yes; while my lady Ælueva lived. but she died. she died. then, my eldest son being a man, i asked de aquila's leave that he should hold the manor while i went on some journey or pilgrimage--to forget. de aquila, whom the second william had made warden of pevensey in earl mortain's place, was very old then, but still he rode his tall, roan horses, and in the saddle he looked like a little white falcon. when hugh, at dallington, over yonder, heard what i did, he sent for my second son, whom being unmarried he had ever looked upon as his own child, and, by de aquila's leave, gave him the manor of dallington to hold till he should return. then hugh came with me.' 'when did this happen?' said dan. 'that i can answer to the very day, for as we rode with de aquila by pevensey--have i said that he was lord of pevensey and of the honour of the eagle?--to the bordeaux ship that fetched him his wines yearly out of france, a marsh man ran to us crying that he had seen a great black goat which bore on his back the body of the king, and that the goat had spoken to him. on that same day red william our king, the conqueror's son, died of a secret arrow while he hunted in a forest. "this is a cross matter," said de aquila, "to meet on the threshold of a journey. if red william be dead i may have to fight for my lands. wait a little." 'my lady being dead, i cared nothing for signs and omens, nor hugh either. we took that wine-ship to go to bordeaux; but the wind failed while we were yet in sight of pevensey, a thick mist hid us, and we drifted with the tide along the cliffs to the west. our company was, for the most part, merchants returning to france, and we were laden with wool and there were three couple of tall hunting-dogs chained to the rail. their master was a knight of artois. his name i never learned, but his shield bore gold pieces on a red ground, and he limped, much as i do, from a wound which he had got in his youth at mantes siege. he served the duke of burgundy against the moors in spain, and was returning to that war with his dogs. he sang us strange moorish songs that first night, and half persuaded us to go with him. i was on pilgrimage to forget--which is what no pilgrimage brings. i think i would have gone, but ... 'look you how the life and fortune of man changes! towards morning a dane ship, rowing silently, struck against us in the mist, and while we rolled hither and yon hugh, leaning over the rail, fell outboard. i leaped after him, and we two tumbled aboard the dane, and were caught and bound ere we could rise. our own ship was swallowed up in the mist. i judge the knight of the gold pieces muzzled his dogs with his cloak, lest they should give tongue and betray the merchants, for i heard their baying suddenly stop. 'we lay bound among the benches till morning, when the danes dragged us to the high deck by the steering-place, and their captain--witta, he was called--turned us over with his foot. bracelets of gold from elbow to armpit he wore, and his red hair was long as a woman's, and came down in plaited locks on his shoulder. he was stout, with bowed legs and long arms. he spoiled us of all we had, but when he laid hand on hugh's sword and saw the runes on the blade hastily he thrust it back. yet his covetousness overcame him and he tried again and again, and the third time the sword sang loud and angrily, so that the rowers leaned on their oars to listen. here they all spoke together, screaming like gulls, and a yellow man, such as i have never seen, came to the high deck and cut our bonds. he was yellow--not from sickness, but by nature--yellow as honey, and his eyes stood endwise in his head.' 'how do you mean?' said una, her chin on her hand. 'thus,' said sir richard. he put a finger to the corner of each eye, and pushed it up till his eyes narrowed to slits. 'why, you look just like a chinaman!' cried dan. 'was the man a chinaman?' 'i know not what that may be. witta had found him half dead among ice on the shores of muscovy. _we_ thought he was a devil. he crawled before us and brought food in a silver dish which these sea-wolves had robbed from some rich abbey, and witta with his own hands gave us wine. he spoke a little in french, a little in south saxon, and much in the northman's tongue. we asked him to set us ashore, promising to pay him better ransom than he would get price if he sold us to the moors--as once befell a knight of my acquaintance sailing from flushing. '"not by my father guthrum's head," said he. "the gods sent ye into my ship for a luck-offering." 'at this i quaked, for i knew it was still the danes' custom to sacrifice captives to their gods for fair weather. '"a plague on thy four long bones!" said hugh. "what profit canst thou make of poor old pilgrims that can neither work nor fight?" '"gods forbid i should fight against thee, poor pilgrim with the singing sword," said he. "come with us and be poor no more. thy teeth are far apart, which is a sure sign thou wilt travel and grow rich." '"what if we will not come?" said hugh. '"swim to england or france," said witta. "we are midway between the two. unless ye choose to drown yourselves no hair of your head will be harmed here aboard. we think ye bring us luck, and i myself know the runes on that sword are good." he turned and bade them hoist sail. 'hereafter all made way for us as we walked about the ship, and the ship was full of wonders.' 'what was she like?' said dan. 'long, low, and narrow, bearing one mast with a red sail, and rowed by fifteen oars a-side,' the knight answered. 'at her bows was a deck under which men might lie, and at her stern another shut off by a painted door from the rowers' benches. here hugh and i slept, with witta and the yellow man, upon tapestries as soft as wool. i remember'--he laughed to himself--'when first we entered there a loud voice cried, "out swords! out swords! kill, kill!" seeing us start witta laughed, and showed us it was but a great-beaked grey bird with a red tail. he sat her on his shoulder, and she called for bread and wine hoarsely, and prayed him to kiss her. yet she was no more than a silly bird. but--ye knew this?' he looked at their smiling faces. 'we weren't laughing at you,' said una. 'that must have been a parrot. it's just what pollies do.' 'so we learned later. but here is another marvel. the yellow man, whose name was kitai, had with him a brown box. in the box was a blue bowl with red marks upon the rim, and within the bowl, hanging from a fine thread, was a piece of iron no thicker than that grass stem, and as long, maybe, as my spur, but straight. in this iron, said witta, abode an evil spirit which kitai, the yellow man, had brought by art magic out of his own country that lay three years' journey southward. the evil spirit strove day and night to return to his country, and therefore, look you, the iron needle pointed continually to the south.' 'south?' said dan suddenly, and put his hand into his pocket. 'with my own eyes i saw it. every day and all day long, though the ship rolled, though the sun and the moon and the stars were hid, this blind spirit in the iron knew whither it would go, and strained to the south. witta called it the wise iron, because it showed him his way across the unknowable seas.' again sir richard looked keenly at the children. 'how think ye? was it sorcery?' 'was it anything like this?' dan fished out his old brass pocket-compass, that generally lived with his knife and key-ring. 'the glass has got cracked, but the needle waggles all right, sir.' the knight drew a long breath of wonder. 'yes, yes! the wise iron shook and swung in just this fashion. now it is still. now it points to the south.' 'north,' said dan. 'nay, south! there is the south,' said sir richard. then they both laughed, for naturally when one end of a straight compass-needle points to the north, the other must point to the south. 'té,' said sir richard, clicking his tongue. 'there can be no sorcery if a child carries it. wherefore does it point south--or north?' 'father says that nobody knows,' said una. sir richard looked relieved. 'then it may still be magic. it was magic to _us_. and so we voyaged. when the wind served we hoisted sail, and lay all up along the windward rail, our shields on our backs to break the spray. when it failed, they rowed with long oars; the yellow man sat by the wise iron, and witta steered. at first i feared the great white-flowering waves, but as i saw how wisely witta led his ship among them i grew bolder. hugh liked it well from the first. my skill is not upon the water; and rocks and whirlpools such as we saw by the west isles of france, where an oar caught on a rock and broke, are much against my stomach. we sailed south across a stormy sea, where by moonlight, between clouds, we saw a flanders ship roll clean over and sink. again, though hugh laboured with witta all night, i lay under the deck with the talking bird, and cared not whether i lived or died. there is a sickness of the sea which for three days is pure death! when we next saw land witta said it was spain, and we stood out to sea. that coast was full of ships busy in the duke's war against the moors, and we feared to be hanged by the duke's men or sold into slavery by the moors. so we put into a small harbour which witta knew. at night men came down with loaded mules, and witta exchanged amber out of the north against little wedges of iron and packets of beads in earthen pots. the pots he put under the decks, and the wedges of iron he laid on the bottom of the ship after he had cast out the stones and shingle which till then had been our ballast. wine, too, he bought for lumps of sweet-smelling grey amber--a little morsel no bigger than a thumbnail purchased a cask of wine. but i speak like a merchant.' 'no, no! tell us what you had to eat,' cried dan. 'meat dried in the sun, and dried fish and ground beans, witta took in; and corded frails of a certain sweet, soft fruit, which the moors use, which is like paste of figs, but with thin, long stones. aha! dates is the name. '"now," said witta, when the ship was loaded, "i counsel you strangers to pray to your gods, for from here on, our road is no man's road." he and his men killed a black goat for sacrifice on the bows; and the yellow man brought out a small, smiling image of dull-green stone and burned incense before it. hugh and i commended ourselves to god, and saint barnabas, and our lady of the assumption, who was specially dear to my lady. we were not young, but i think no shame to say whenas we drove out of that secret harbour at sunrise over a still sea, we two rejoiced and sang as did the knights of old when they followed our great duke to england. yet was our leader an heathen pirate; all our proud fleet but one galley perilously overloaded; for guidance we leaned on a pagan sorcerer; and our port was beyond the world's end. witta told us that his father guthrum had once in his life rowed along the shores of africa to a land where naked men sold gold for iron and beads. there had he bought much gold, and no few elephants' teeth, and thither by help of the wise iron would witta go. witta feared nothing--except to be poor. '"my father told me," said witta, "that a great shoal runs three days' sail out from that land, and south of the shoal lies a forest which grows in the sea. south and east of the forest my father came to a place where the men hid gold in their hair; but all that country, he said, was full of devils who lived in trees, and tore folk limb from limb. how think ye?" '"gold or no gold," said hugh, fingering his sword, "it is a joyous venture. have at these devils of thine, witta!" '"venture!" said witta sourly. "i am only a poor sea-thief. i do not set my life adrift on a plank for joy, or the venture. once i beach ship again at stavanger, and feel the wife's arms round my neck, i'll seek no more ventures. a ship is heavier care than a wife or cattle." 'he leaped down among the rowers, chiding them for their little strength and their great stomachs. yet witta was a wolf in fight, and a very fox in cunning. 'we were driven south by a storm, and for three days and three nights he took the stern-oar, and threddled the longship through the sea. when it rose beyond measure he brake a pot of whale's oil upon the water, which wonderfully smoothed it, and in that anointed patch he turned her head to the wind and threw out oars at the end of a rope, to make, he said, an anchor at which we lay rolling sorely, but dry. this craft his father guthrum had shown him. he knew, too, all the leech-book of bald, who was a wise doctor, and he knew the ship-book of hlaf the woman, who robbed egypt. he knew all the care of a ship. 'after the storm we saw a mountain whose top was covered with snow and pierced the clouds. the grasses under this mountain, boiled and eaten, are a good cure for soreness of the gums and swelled ankles. we lay there eight days, till men in skins threw stones at us. when the heat increased witta spread a cloth on bent sticks above the rowers, for the wind failed between the island of the mountain and the shore of africa, which is east of it. that shore is sandy, and we rowed along it within three bowshots. here we saw whales, and fish in the shape of shields, but longer than our ship. some slept, some opened their mouths at us, and some danced on the hot waters. the water was hot to the hand, and the sky was hidden by hot, grey mists, out of which blew a fine dust that whitened our hair and beards of a morning. here, too, were fish that flew in the air like birds. they would fall on the laps of the rowers, and when we went ashore we would roast and eat them.' the knight paused to see if the children doubted him, but they only nodded and said, 'go on.' 'the yellow land lay on our left, the grey sea on our right. knight though i was, i pulled my oar amongst the rowers. i caught seaweed and dried it, and stuffed it between the pots of beads lest they should break. knighthood is for the land. at sea, look you, a man is but a spurless rider on a bridleless horse. i learned to make strong knots in ropes--yes, and to join two ropes end to end, so that even witta could scarcely see where they had been married. but hugh had tenfold more sea-cunning than i. witta gave him charge of the rowers of the left side. thorkild of borkum, a man with a broken nose, that wore a norman steel cap, had the rowers of the right, and each side rowed and sang against the other. they saw that no man was idle. truly, as hugh said, and witta would laugh at him, a ship is all more care than a manor. 'how? thus. there was water to fetch from the shore when we could find it, as well as wild fruit and grasses, and sand for scrubbing of the decks and benches to keep them sweet. also we hauled the ship out on low islands and emptied all her gear, even to the iron wedges, and burned off the weed, that had grown on her, with torches of rush, and smoked below the decks with rushes dampened in salt water, as hlaf the woman orders in her ship-book. once when we were thus stripped, and the ship lay propped on her keel, the bird cried, "out swords!" as though she saw an enemy. witta vowed he would wring her neck.' 'poor polly! did he?' said una. 'nay. she was the ship's bird. she could call all the rowers by name.... those were good days--for a wifeless man--with witta and his heathen--beyond the world's end. ... after many weeks we came on the great shoal which stretched, as witta's father had said, far out to sea. we skirted it till we were giddy with the sight and dizzy with the sound of bars and breakers, and when we reached land again we found a naked black people dwelling among woods, who for one wedge of iron loaded us with fruits and grasses and eggs. witta scratched his head at them in sign he would buy gold. they had no gold, but they understood the sign (all the gold-traders hide their gold in their thick hair), for they pointed along the coast. they beat, too, on their chests with their clenched hands, and that, if we had known it, was an evil sign.' 'what did it mean?' said dan. 'patience. ye shall hear. we followed the coast eastward sixteen days (counting time by sword-cuts on the helm-rail) till we came to the forest in the sea. trees grew there out of mud, arched upon lean and high roots, and many muddy waterways ran all whither into darkness, under the trees. here we lost the sun. we followed the winding channels between the trees, and where we could not row we laid hold of the crusted roots and hauled ourselves along. the water was foul, and great glittering flies tormented us. morning and evening a blue mist covered the mud, which bred fevers. four of our rowers sickened, and were bound to their benches, lest they should leap overboard and be eaten by the monsters of the mud. the yellow man lay sick beside the wise iron, rolling his head and talking in his own tongue. only the bird throve. she sat on witta's shoulder and screamed in that noisome, silent darkness. yes; i think it was the silence we most feared.' he paused to listen to the comfortable home noises of the brook. 'when we had lost count of time among those black gullies and swashes we heard, as it were, a drum beat far off, and following it we broke into a broad, brown river by a hut in a clearing among fields of pumpkins. we thanked god to see the sun again. the people of the village gave the good welcome, and witta scratched his head at them (for gold), and showed them our iron and beads. they ran to the bank--we were still in the ship--and pointed to our swords and bows, for always when near shore we lay armed. soon they fetched store of gold in bars and in dust from their huts, and some great blackened elephants' teeth. these they piled on the bank, as though to tempt us, and made signs of dealing blows in battle, and pointed up to the tree-tops, and to the forest behind. their captain or chief sorcerer then beat on his chest with his fists, and gnashed his teeth. 'said thorkild of borkum: "do they mean we must fight for all this gear?" and he half drew sword. '"nay," said hugh. "i think they ask us to league against some enemy." '"i like this not," said witta, of a sudden. "back into mid-stream." 'so we did, and sat still all, watching the black folk and the gold they piled on the bank. again we heard drums beat in the forest, and the people fled to their huts, leaving the gold unguarded. 'then hugh, at the bows, pointed without speech, and we saw a great devil come out of the forest. he shaded his brows with his hand, and moistened his pink tongue between his lips--thus.' 'a devil!' said dan, delightfully horrified. 'yea. taller than a man; covered with reddish hair. when he had well regarded our ship, he beat on his chest with his fists till it sounded like rolling drums, and came to the bank swinging all his body between his long arms, and gnashed his teeth at us. hugh loosed arrow, and pierced him through the throat. he fell roaring, and three other devils ran out of the forest and hauled him into a tall tree out of sight. anon they cast down the blood-stained arrow, and lamented together among the leaves. witta saw the gold on the bank; he was loath to leave it. "sirs," said he (no man had spoken till then), "yonder is what we have come so far and so painfully to find, laid out to our very hand. let us row in while these devils bewail themselves, and at least bear off what we may." 'bold as a wolf, cunning as a fox was witta! he set four archers on the foredeck to shoot the devils if they should leap from the tree, which was close to the bank. he manned ten oars a-side, and bade them watch his hand to row in or back out, and so coaxed he them toward the bank. but none would set foot ashore, though the gold was within ten paces. no man is hasty to his hanging! they whimpered at their oars like beaten hounds, and witta bit his fingers for rage. 'said hugh of a sudden, "hark!" at first we thought it was the buzzing of the glittering flies on the water; but it grew loud and fierce, so that all men heard.' 'what?' said dan and una. 'it was the sword.' sir richard patted the smooth hilt. 'it sang as a dane sings before battle. "i go," said hugh, and he leaped from the bows and fell among the gold. i was afraid to my four bones' marrow, but for shame's sake i followed, and thorkild of borkum leaped after me. none other came. "blame me not," cried witta behind us, "i must abide by my ship." we three had no time to blame or praise. we stooped to the gold and threw it back over our shoulders, one hand on our swords and one eye on the tree, which nigh overhung us. 'i know not how the devils leaped down, or how the fight began. i heard hugh cry: "out! out!" as though he were at santlache again; i saw thorkild's steel cap smitten off his head by a great hairy hand, and i felt an arrow from the ship whistle past my ear. they say that till witta took his sword to the rowers he could not bring his ship inshore; and each one of the four archers said afterwards that he alone had pierced the devil that fought me. i do not know. i went to it in my mail-shirt, which saved my skin. with long-sword and belt-dagger i fought for the life against a devil whose very feet were hands, and who whirled me back and forth like a dead branch. he had me by the waist, my arms to my side, when an arrow from the ship pierced him between the shoulders, and he loosened grip. i passed my sword twice through him, and he crutched himself away between his long arms, coughing and moaning. next, as i remember, i saw thorkild of borkum, bare-headed and smiling, leaping up and down before a devil that leaped and gnashed his teeth. then hugh passed, his sword shifted to his left hand, and i wondered why i had not known that hugh was a left-handed man; and thereafter i remembered nothing till i felt spray on my face, and we were in sunshine on the open sea. that was twenty days after.' 'what had happened? did hugh die?'the children asked. 'never was such a fight fought by christened man,' said sir richard. 'an arrow from the ship had saved me from my devil, and thorkild of borkum had given back before his devil, till the bowmen on the ship could shoot it all full of arrows from near by; but hugh's devil was cunning, and had kept behind trees, where no arrow could reach. body to body there, by stark strength of sword and hand, had hugh slain him, and, dying, the thing had clenched his teeth on the sword. judge what teeth they were!' sir richard turned the sword again that the children might see the two great chiselled gouges on either side of the blade. 'those same teeth met in hugh's right arm and side,' sir richard went on. 'i? oh, i had no more than a broken foot and a fever. thorkild's ear was bitten, but hugh's arm and side clean withered away. i saw him where he lay along, sucking a fruit in his left hand. his flesh was wasted off his bones, his hair was patched with white, and his hand was blue-veined like a woman's. he put his left arm round my neck and whispered, "take my sword. it has been thine since hastings, o my brother, but i can never hold hilt again." we lay there on the high deck talking of santlache, and, i think, of every day since santlache, and it came so that we both wept. i was weak, and he little more than a shadow. '"nay--nay," said witta, at the helm-rail. "gold is a good right arm to any man. look--look at the gold!" he bade thorkild show us the gold and the elephants' teeth, as though we had been children. he had brought away all the gold on the bank, and twice as much more, that the people of the village gave him for slaying the devils. they worshipped us as gods, thorkild told me: it was one of their old women healed up hugh's poor arm.' 'how much gold did you get?'asked dan. 'how can i say? where we came out with wedges of iron under the rowers' feet we returned with wedges of gold hidden beneath planks. there was dust of gold in packages where we slept and along the side, and crosswise under the benches we lashed the blackened elephants' teeth. '"i had sooner have my right arm," said hugh, when he had seen all. '"ahai! that was my fault," said witta. "i should have taken ransom and landed you in france when first you came aboard, ten months ago." '"it is over-late now," said hugh, laughing. 'witta plucked at his long shoulder-lock. "but think!" said he. "if i had let ye go--which i swear i would never have done, for i love ye more than brothers--if i had let ye go, by now ye might have been horribly slain by some mere moor in the duke of burgundy's war, or ye might have been murdered by land-thieves, or ye might have died of the plague at an inn. think of this and do not blame me overmuch, hugh. see! i will only take a half of the gold." '"i blame thee not at all, witta," said hugh. "it was a joyous venture, and we thirty-five here have done what never men have done. if i live till england, i will build me a stout keep over dallington out of my share." '"i will buy cattle and amber and warm red cloth for the wife," said witta, "and i will hold all the land at the head of stavanger fiord. many will fight for me now. but first we must turn north, and with this honest treasure aboard i pray we meet no pirate ships." 'we did not laugh. we were careful. we were afraid lest we should lose one grain of our gold, for which we had fought devils. '"where is the sorcerer?" said i, for witta was looking at the wise iron in the box, and i could not see the yellow man. '"he has gone to his own country," said he. "he rose up in the night while we were beating out of that forest in the mud, and said that he could see it behind the trees. he leaped out on the mud, and did not answer when we called; so we called no more. he left the wise iron, which is all that i care for--and see, the spirit still points to the south." 'we were troubled for fear that the wise iron should fail us now that its yellow man had gone, and when we saw the spirit still served us we grew afraid of too strong winds, and of shoals, and of careless leaping fish, and of all the people on all the shores where we landed.' 'why?' said dan. 'because of the gold--because of our gold. gold changes men altogether. thorkild of borkum did not change. he laughed at witta for his fears, and at us for our counselling witta to furl sail when the ship pitched at all. '"better be drowned out of hand," said thorkild of borkum, "than go tied to a deck-load of yellow dust." 'he was a landless man, and had been slave to some king in the east. he would have beaten out the gold into deep bands to put round the oars, and round the prow. 'yet, though he vexed himself for the gold, witta waited upon hugh like a woman, lending him his shoulder when the ship rolled, and tying of ropes from side to side that hugh might hold by them. but for hugh, he said--and so did all his men--they would never have won the gold. i remember witta made a little, thin gold ring for our bird to swing in. 'three months we rowed and sailed and went ashore for fruits or to clean the ship. when we saw wild horsemen, riding among sand-dunes, flourishing spears, we knew we were on the moors' coast, and stood over north to spain; and a strong south-west wind bore us in ten days to a coast of high red rocks, where we heard a hunting-horn blow among the yellow gorse and knew it was england. '"now find ye pevensey yourselves," said witta. "i love not these narrow ship-filled seas." 'he set the dried, salted head of the devil, which hugh had killed, high on our prow, and all boats fled from us. yet, for our gold's sake, we were more afraid than they. we crept along the coast by night till we came to the chalk cliffs, and so east to pevensey. witta would not come ashore with us, though hugh promised him wine at dallington enough to swim in. he was on fire to see his wife, and ran into the marsh after sunset, and there he left us and our share of gold, and backed out on the same tide. he made no promise; he swore no oath; he looked for no thanks; but to hugh, an armless man, and to me, an old cripple whom he could have flung into the sea, he passed over wedge upon wedge, packet upon packet of gold and dust of gold, and only ceased when we would take no more. as he stooped from the rail to bid us farewell he stripped off his right-arm bracelets and put them all on hugh's left, and he kissed hugh on the cheek. i think when thorkild of borkum bade the rowers give way we were near weeping. it is true that witta was an heathen and a pirate; true it is he held us by force many months in his ship, but i loved that bow-legged, blue-eyed man for his great boldness, his cunning, his skill, and, beyond all, for his simplicity.' 'did he get home all right?' said dan. 'i never knew. we saw him hoist sail under the moon-track and stand away. i have prayed that he found his wife and the children.' 'and what did you do?' 'we waited on the marsh till the day. then i sat by the gold, all tied in an old sail, while hugh went to pevensey, and de aquila sent us horses.' sir richard crossed hands on his sword-hilt, and stared down stream through the soft warm shadows. 'a whole shipload of gold!' said una, looking at the little _golden hind_. 'but i'm glad i didn't see the devils.' 'i don't believe they were devils,'dan whispered back. 'eh?' said sir richard. 'witta's father warned him they were unquestionable devils. one must believe one's father, and not one's children. what were my devils, then?' dan flushed all over. 'i--i only thought,' he stammered; 'i've got a book called _the gorilla hunters_--it's a continuation of _coral island_, sir--and it says there that the gorillas (they're big monkeys, you know) were always chewing iron up.' 'not always,' said una. 'only twice.' they had been reading _the gorilla hunters_ in the orchard. 'well, anyhow, they always drummed on their chests, like sir richard's did, before they went for people. and they built houses in trees, too.' 'ha!' sir richard opened his eyes. 'houses like flat nests did our devils make, where their imps lay and looked at us. i did not see them (i was sick after the fight), but witta told me, and, lo, ye know it also? wonderful! were our devils only nest-building apes? is there no sorcery left in the world?' 'i don't know,' answered dan, uncomfortably. 'i've seen a man take rabbits out of a hat, and he told us we could see how he did it, if we watched hard. and we did.' 'but we didn't,' said una, sighing. 'oh! there's puck!' the little fellow, brown and smiling, peered between two stems of an ash, nodded, and slid down the bank into the cool beside them. 'no sorcery, sir richard?' he laughed, and blew on a full dandelion head he had picked. 'they tell me that witta's wise iron was a toy. the boy carries such an iron with him. they tell me our devils were apes, called gorillas!' said sir richard, indignantly. 'that is the sorcery of books,' said puck. 'i warned thee they were wise children. all people can be wise by reading of books.' 'but are the books true?' sir richard frowned. 'i like not all this reading and writing.' 'ye-es,' said puck, holding the naked dandelion head at arm's length. 'but if we hang all fellows who write falsely, why did de aquila not begin with gilbert the clerk? _he_ was false enough.' 'poor false gilbert. yet, in his fashion, he was bold,' said sir richard. 'what did he do?' said dan. 'he wrote,' said sir richard. 'is the tale meet for children, think you?' he looked at puck; but 'tell us! tell us!' cried dan and una together. thorkild's song there's no wind along these seas, out oars for stavanger! forward all for stavanger! so we must wake the white-ash breeze, let fall for stavanger! a long pull for stavanger! oh, hear the benches creak and strain! (a long pull for stavanger!) she thinks she smells the northland rain! (a long pull for stavanger!) she thinks she smells the northland snow, and she's as glad as we to go. she thinks she smells the northland rime, and the dear dark nights of winter-time. her very bolts are sick for shore, and we--we want it ten times more! so all you gods that love brave men, send us a three-reef gale again! send us a gale, and watch us come, with close-cropped canvas slashing home! but--there's no wind in all these seas. a long pull for stavanger! so we must wake the white-ash breeze, a long pull for stavanger! old men at pevensey 'it has naught to do with apes or devils,'sir richard went on, in an undertone. 'it concerns de aquila, than whom there was never bolder nor craftier, nor more hardy knight born. and remember he was an old, old man at that time.' 'when?' said dan. 'when we came back from sailing with witta.' 'what did you do with your gold?' said dan. 'have patience. link by link is chain-mail made. i will tell all in its place. we bore the gold to pevensey on horseback--three loads of it--and then up to the north chamber, above the great hall of pevensey castle, where de aquila lay in winter. he sat on his bed like a little white falcon, turning his head swiftly from one to the other as we told our tale. jehan the crab, an old sour man-at-arms, guarded the stairway, but de aquila bade him wait at the stair-foot, and let down both leather curtains over the door. it was jehan whom de aquila had sent to us with the horses, and only jehan had loaded the gold. when our story was told, de aquila gave us the news of england, for we were as men waked from a year-long sleep. the red king was dead--slain (ye remember?) the day we set sail--and henry, his younger brother, had made himself king of england over the head of robert of normandy. this was the very thing that the red king had done to robert when our great william died. then robert of normandy, mad, as de aquila said, at twice missing of this kingdom, had sent an army against england, which army had been well beaten back to their ships at portsmouth. a little earlier, and witta's ship would have rowed through them. '"and now," said de aquila, "half the great barons of the north and west are out against the king between salisbury and shrewsbury, and half the other half wait to see which way the game shall go. they say henry is overly english for their stomachs, because he hath married an english wife and she hath coaxed him to give back their old laws to our saxons. (better ride a horse on the bit he knows, _i_ say!) but that is only a cloak to their falsehood." he cracked his finger on the table, where the wine was spilt, and thus he spoke:-- '"william crammed us norman barons full of good english acres after santlache. _i_ had my share too," he said, and clapped hugh on the shoulder; "but i warned him--i warned him before odo rebelled--that he should have bidden the barons give up their lands and lordships in normandy if they would be english lords. now they are all but princes both in england and normandy--trencher-fed hounds, with a foot in one trough and both eyes on the other! robert of normandy has sent them word that if they do not fight for him in england he will sack and harry out their lands in normandy. therefore clare has risen, fitzosborne has risen, montgomery has risen--whom our first william made an english earl. even d'arcy is out with his men, whose father i remember a little hedge-sparrow knight nearby caen. if henry wins, the barons can still flee to normandy, where robert will welcome them. if henry loses, robert, he says, will give them more lands in england. oh, a pest--a pest on normandy, for she will be our england's curse this many a long year!" '"amen," said hugh. "but will the war come our ways, think you?" '"not from the north," said de aquila. "but the sea is always open. if the barons gain the upper hand robert will send another army into england for sure, and this time i think he will land here--where his father, the conqueror, landed. ye have brought your pigs to a pretty market! half england alight, and gold enough on the ground"--he stamped on the bars beneath the table--"to set every sword in christendom fighting." '"what is to do?" said hugh. "i have no keep at dallington; and if we buried it, whom could we trust?" '"me," said de aquila. "pevensey walls are strong. no man but jehan, who is my dog, knows what is between them." he drew a curtain by the shot-window and showed us the shaft of a well in the thickness of the wall. '"i made it for a drinking-well," he said, "but we found salt water, and it rises and falls with the tide. hark!" we heard the water whistle and blow at the bottom. "will it serve?" said he. '"needs must," said hugh. "our lives are in thy hands." so we lowered all the gold down except one small chest of it by de aquila's bed, which we kept as much for his delight in its weight and colour as for any of our needs. 'in the morning, ere we rode to our manors, he said: "i do not say farewell; because ye will return and bide here. not for love nor for sorrow, but to be with the gold. have a care," he said, laughing, "lest i use it to make myself pope. trust me not, but return!"' sir richard paused and smiled sadly. 'in seven days, then, we returned from our manors--from the manors which had been ours.' 'and were the children quite well?' said una. 'my sons were young. land and governance belong by right to young men.' sir richard was talking to himself. 'it would have broken their hearts if we had taken back our manors. they made us great welcome, but we could see--hugh and i could see--that our day was done. i was a cripple and he a one-armed man. no!' he shook his head. 'and therefore'--he raised his voice--'we rode back to pevensey.' 'i'm sorry,' said una, for the knight seemed very sorrowful. 'little maid, it all passed long ago. they were young; we were old. we let them rule the manors. "aha!" cried de aquila from his shot-window, when we dismounted. "back again to earth, old foxes?" but when we were in his chamber above the hall he puts his arms about us and says, "welcome, ghosts! welcome, poor ghosts!" ... thus it fell out that we were rich beyond belief, and lonely. and lonely!' 'what did you do?' said dan. 'we watched for robert of normandy,' said the knight. 'de aquila was like witta. he suffered no idleness. in fair weather we would ride along between bexlei on the one side, to cuckmere on the other--sometimes with hawk, sometimes with hound (there are stout hares both on the marsh and the downland), but always with an eye to the sea, for fear of fleets from normandy. in foul weather he would walk on the top of his tower, frowning against the rain--peering here and pointing there. it always vexed him to think how witta's ship had come and gone without his knowledge. when the wind ceased and ships anchored, to the wharf's edge he would go and, leaning on his sword among the stinking fish, would call to the mariners for their news from france. his other eye he kept landward for word of henry's war against the barons. 'many brought him news--jongleurs, harpers, pedlars, sutlers, priests and the like; and, though he was secret enough in small things, yet, if their news misliked him, then, regarding neither time nor place nor people, he would curse our king henry for a fool or a babe. i have heard him cry aloud by the fishing boats: "if i were king of england i would do thus and thus"; and when i rode out to see that the warning-beacons were laid and dry, he hath often called to me from the shot-window: "look to it, richard! do not copy our blind king, but see with thine own eyes and feel with thine own hands." i do not think he knew any sort of fear. and so we lived at pevensey, in the little chamber above the hall. 'one foul night came word that a messenger of the king waited below. we were chilled after a long riding in the fog towards bexlei, which is an easy place for ships to land. de aquila sent word the man might either eat with us or wait till we had fed. anon jehan, at the stair-head, cried that he had called for horse, and was gone. "pest on him!" said de aquila. "i have more to do than to shiver in the great hall for every gadling the king sends. left he no word?" '"none," said jehan, "except"--he had been with de aquila at santlache--"except he said that if an old dog could not learn new tricks it was time to sweep out the kennel." '"oho!" said de aquila, rubbing his nose, "to whom did he say that?" '"to his beard, chiefly, but some to his horse's flank as he was girthing up. i followed him out," said jehan the crab. '"what was his shield-mark?" '"gold horseshoes on black," said the crab. '"that is one of fulke's men," said de aquila.' puck broke in very gently, 'gold horseshoes on black is _not_ the fulkes' shield. the fulkes' arms are----' the knight waved one hand statelily. 'thou knowest that evil man's true name,' he replied, 'but i have chosen to call him fulke because i promised him i would not tell the story of his wickedness so that any man might guess it. i have changed _all_ the names in my tale. his children's children may be still alive.' 'true--true,' said puck, smiling softly. 'it is knightly to keep faith--even after a thousand years.' sir richard bowed a little and went on:-- '"gold horseshoes on black?" said de aquila. "i had heard fulke had joined the barons, but if this is true our king must be of the upper hand. no matter, all fulkes are faithless. still, i would not have sent the man away empty." '"he fed," said jehan. "gilbert the clerk fetched him meat and wine from the kitchens. he ate at gilbert's table." 'this gilbert was a clerk from battle abbey, who kept the accounts of the manor of pevensey. he was tall and pale-coloured, and carried those new-fashioned beads for counting of prayers. they were large brown nuts or seeds, and hanging from his girdle with his pen and inkhorn they clashed when he walked. his place was in the great fireplace. there was his table of accounts, and there he lay o' nights. he feared the hounds in the hall that came nosing after bones or to sleep on the warm ashes, and would slash at them with his beads--like a woman. when de aquila sat in hall to do justice, take fines, or grant lands, gilbert would so write it in the manor-roll. but it was none of his work to feed our guests, or to let them depart without his lord's knowledge. 'said de aquila, after jehan was gone down the stair: "hugh, hast thou ever told my gilbert thou canst read latin hand-of-write?" '"no," said hugh. "he is no friend to me, or to odo my hound either." '"no matter," said de aquila. "let him never know thou canst tell one letter from its fellow, and"--here he jerked us in the ribs with his scabbard--"watch him, both of ye. there be devils in africa, as i have heard, but by the saints, there be greater devils in pevensey!" and that was all he would say. 'it chanced, some small while afterwards, a norman man-at-arms would wed a saxon wench of the manor, and gilbert (we had watched him well since de aquila spoke) doubted whether her folk were free or slave. since de aquila would give them a field of good land, if she were free, the matter came up at the justice in great hall before de aquila. first the wench's father spoke; then her mother; then all together, till the hall rang and the hounds bayed. de aquila held up his hands. "write her free," he called to gilbert by the fireplace. "a' god's name write her free, before she deafens me! yes, yes," he said to the wench that was on her knees at him; "thou art cerdic's sister, and own cousin to the lady of mercia, if thou wilt be silent. in fifty years there will be neither norman nor saxon, but all english," said he, "and _these_ are the men that do our work!" he clapped the man-at-arms that was jehan's nephew on the shoulder, and kissed the wench, and fretted with his feet among the rushes to show it was finished. (the great hall is always bitter cold.) i stood at his side; hugh was behind gilbert in the fireplace making to play with wise rough odo. he signed to de aquila, who bade gilbert measure the new field for the new couple. out then runs our gilbert between man and maid, his beads clashing at his waist, and the hall being empty, we three sit by the fire. 'said hugh, leaning down to the hearthstones, "i saw this stone move under gilbert's foot when odo snuffed at it. look!" de aquila digged in the ashes with his sword; the stone tilted; beneath it lay a parchment folden, and the writing atop was: "words spoken against the king by our lord of pevensey--the second part." 'here was set out (hugh read it us whispering) every jest de aquila had made to us touching the king; every time he had called out to me from the shot-window, and every time he had said what he would do if he were king of england. yes, day by day had his daily speech, which he never stinted, been set down by gilbert, tricked out and twisted from its true meaning, yet withal so cunningly that none could deny who knew him that de aquila had in some sort spoken those words. ye see?' dan and una nodded. 'yes,' said una gravely. 'it isn't what you say so much. it's what you mean when you say it. like calling dan a beast in fun. only grown-ups don't always understand.' '"he hath done this day by day before our very face?" said de aquila. '"nay, hour by hour," said hugh. "when de aquila spoke even now, in the hall, of saxons and normans, i saw gilbert write on a parchment, which he kept beside the manor-roll, that de aquila said soon there would be no normans left in england if his men-at-arms did their work aright." '"bones of the saints!" said de aquila. "what avail is honour or a sword against a pen? where did gilbert hide that writing? he shall eat it." '"in his breast when he ran out," said hugh. "which made me look to see where he kept his finished stuff. when odo scratched at this stone here, i saw his face change. so i was sure." '"he is bold," said de aquila. "do him justice. in his own fashion, my gilbert is bold." '"overbold," said hugh. "hearken here," and he read: "upon the feast of st agatha, our lord of pevensey, lying in his upper chamber, being clothed in his second fur gown reversed with rabbit----" '"pest on him! he is not my tire-woman!" said de aquila, and hugh and i laughed. '"reversed with rabbit, seeing a fog over the marshes, did wake sir richard dalyngridge, his drunken cup-mate" (here they laughed at me) "and said, 'peer out, old fox, for god is on the duke of normandy's side."' '"so did i. it was a black fog. robert could have landed ten thousand men, and we none the wiser. does he tell how we were out all day riding the marsh, and how i near perished in a quicksand, and coughed like a sick ewe for ten days after?" cried de aquila. '"no," said hugh. "but here is the prayer of gilbert himself to his master fulke." '"ah," said de aquila. "well i knew it was fulke. what is the price of my blood?" '"gilbert prayeth that when our lord of pevensey is stripped of his lands on this evidence which gilbert hath, with fear and pains, collected----" '"fear and pains is a true word," said de aquila, and sucked in his cheeks. "but how excellent a weapon is a pen! i must learn it." '"he prays that fulke will advance him from his present service to that honour in the church which fulke promised him. and lest fulke should forget, he has written below, 'to be sacristan of battle'." 'at this de aquila whistled. "a man who can plot against one lord can plot against another. when i am stripped of my lands fulke will whip off my gilbert's foolish head. none the less battle needs a new sacristan. they tell me the abbot henry keeps no sort of rule there." '"let the abbot wait," said hugh. "it is our heads and our lands that are in danger. this parchment is the second part of the tale. the first has gone to fulke, and so to the king, who will hold us traitors." "assuredly," said de aquila. "fulke's man took the first part that evening when gilbert fed him, and our king is so beset by his brother and his barons (small blame, too!) that he is mad with mistrust. fulke has his ear, and pours poison into it. presently the king gives him my land and yours. this is old," and he leaned back and yawned. '"and thou wilt surrender pevensey without word or blow?" said hugh. "we saxons will fight your king then. i will go warn my nephew at dallington. give me a horse!" '"give thee a toy and a rattle," said de aquila. "put back the parchment, and rake over the ashes. if fulke is given my pevensey, which is england's gate, what will he do with it? he is norman at heart, and his heart is in normandy, where he can kill peasants at his pleasure. he will open england's gate to our sleepy robert, as odo and mortain tried to do, and then there will be another landing and another santlache. therefore i cannot give up pevensey." '"good," said we two. '"ah, but wait! if my king be made, on gilbert's evidence, to mistrust me, he will send his men against me here, and while we fight, england's gate is left unguarded. who will be the first to come through thereby? even robert of normandy. therefore i cannot fight my king." he nursed his sword--thus. '"this is saying and unsaying like a norman," said hugh. "what of our manors?" '"i do not think for myself," said de aquila, "nor for our king, nor for your lands. i think for england, for whom neither king nor baron thinks. i am not norman, sir richard, nor saxon, sir hugh. english am i." '"saxon, norman or english," said hugh, "our lives are thine, however the game goes. when do we hang gilbert?" '"never," said de aquila. "who knows, he may yet be sacristan of battle, for, to do him justice, he is a good writer. dead men make dumb witnesses. wait." '"but the king may give pevensey to fulke. and our manors go with it," said i. "shall we tell our sons?" '"no. the king will not wake up a hornets' nest in the south till he has smoked out the bees in the north. he may hold me a traitor; but at least he sees i am not fighting against him; and every day that i lie still is so much gain to him while he fights the barons. if he were wise he would wait till that war were over before he made new enemies. but i think fulke will play upon him to send for me, and if i do not obey the summons, that will, to henry's mind, be proof of my treason. but mere talk, such as gilbert sends, is no proof nowadays. we barons follow the church, and, like anselm, we speak what we please. let us go about our day's dealings, and say naught to gilbert." '"then we do nothing?" said hugh. '"we wait," said de aquila. "i am old, but still i find that the most grievous work i know." 'and so we found it, but in the end de aquila was right. 'a little later in the year, armed men rode over the hill, the golden horseshoes flying behind the king's banner. said de aquila, at the window of our chamber: "how did i tell you? here comes fulke himself to spy out his new lands which our king hath promised him if he can bring proof of my treason." '"how dost thou know?" said hugh. '"because that is what i would do if i were fulke, but _i_ should have brought more men. my roan horse to your old shoes," said he, "fulke brings me the king's summons to leave pevensey and join the war." he sucked in his cheeks and drummed on the edge of the shaft, where the water sounded all hollow. '"shall we go?" said i. '"go! at this time of year? stark madness," said he. "take _me_ from pevensey to fisk and flyte through fern and forest, and in three days robert's keels would be lying on pevensey mud with ten thousand men! who would stop them--fulke?" 'the horns blew without, and anon fulke cried the king's summons at the great door, that de aquila with all men and horse should join the king's camp at salisbury. '"how did i tell you?" said de aquila. "there are twenty barons 'twixt here and salisbury could give king henry good land service, but he has been worked upon by fulke to send south and call me--_me_!--off the gate of england, when his enemies stand about to batter it in. see that fulke's men lie in the big south barn," said he. "give them drink, and when fulke has eaten we will drink in my chamber. the great hall is too cold for old bones." 'as soon as he was off-horse fulke went to the chapel with gilbert to give thanks for his safe coming, and when he had eaten--he was a fat man, and rolled his eyes greedily at our good roast sussex wheatears--we led him to the little upper chamber, whither gilbert had already gone with the manor-roll. i remember when fulke heard the tide blow and whistle in the shaft he leaped back, and his long down-turned stirrup-shoes caught in the rushes and he stumbled, so that jehan behind him found it easy to knock his head against the wall.' 'did you know it was going to happen?' said dan. 'assuredly,' said sir richard, with a sweet smile. 'i put my foot on his sword and plucked away his dagger, but he knew not whether it was day or night for awhile. he lay rolling his eyes and bubbling with his mouth, and jehan roped him like a calf. he was cased all in that newfangled armour which we call lizard-mail. not rings like my hauberk here'--sir richard tapped his chest--but little pieces of dagger-proof steel overlapping on stout leather. we stripped it off (no need to spoil good harness by wetting it), and in the neck-piece de aquila found the same folden piece of parchment which we had put back under the hearthstone. 'at this gilbert would have run out. i laid my hand on his shoulder. it sufficed. he fell to trembling and praying on his beads. '"gilbert," said de aquila, "here be more notable sayings and doings of our lord of pevensey for thee to write down. take pen and ink-horn, gilbert. we cannot all be sacristans of battle." 'said fulke from the floor, "ye have bound a king's messenger. pevensey shall burn for this." '"maybe. i have seen it besieged once," said de aquila, "but heart up, fulke. i promise thee that thou shalt be hanged in the middle of the flames at the end of that siege, if i have to share my last loaf with thee; and that is more than odo would have done when we starved out him and mortain." 'then fulke sat up and looked long and cunningly at de aquila. '"by the saints," said he, "why didst thou not say thou wast on the duke robert's side at the first?" '"am i?" said de aquila. 'fulke laughed and said, "no man who serves king henry dare do this much to his messenger. when didst thou come over to the duke? let me up and we can smooth it out together." and he smiled and becked and winked. '"yes, we will smooth it out," said de aquila. he nodded to me, and jehan and i heaved up fulke--he was a heavy man--and lowered him into the shaft by a rope, not so as to stand on our gold, but dangling by his shoulders a little above. it was turn of ebb, and the water came to his knees. he said nothing, but shivered somewhat. 'then jehan of a sudden beat down gilbert's wrist with his sheathed dagger. "stop!" he said. "he swallows his beads." '"poison, belike," said de aquila. "it is good for men who know too much. i have carried it these thirty years. give me!" 'then gilbert wept and howled. de aquila ran the beads through his fingers. the last one--i have said they were large nuts--opened in two halves on a pin, and there was a small folded parchment within. on it was written: "_the old dog goes to salisbury to be beaten. i have his kennel. come quickly_." '"this is worse than poison," said de aquila, very softly, and sucked in his cheeks. then gilbert grovelled in the rushes, and told us all he knew. the letter, as we guessed, was from fulke to the duke (and not the first that had passed between them); fulke had given it to gilbert in the chapel, and gilbert thought to have taken it by morning to a certain fishing boat at the wharf, which trafficked between pevensey and the french shore. gilbert was a false fellow, but he found time between his quakings and shakings to swear that the master of the boat knew nothing of the matter. '"he hath called me shaved head," said gilbert, "and he hath thrown haddock-guts at me; but for all that, he is no traitor." '"i will have no clerk of mine mishandled or miscalled," said de aquila. "that seaman shall be whipped at his own mast. write me first a letter, and thou shalt bear it, with the order for the whipping, to-morrow to the boat." 'at this gilbert would have kissed de aquila's hand--he had not hoped to live until the morning--and when he trembled less he wrote a letter as from fulke to the duke, saying that the kennel, which signified pevensey, was shut, and that the old dog (which was de aquila) sat outside it, and, moreover, that all had been betrayed. '"write to any man that all is betrayed," said de aquila, "and even the pope himself would sleep uneasily. eh, jehan? if one told thee all was betrayed, what wouldst thou do?" '"i would run away," said jehan. "it might be true." '"well said," quoth de aquila. "write, gilbert, that montgomery, the great earl, hath made his peace with the king, and that little d'arcy, whom i hate, hath been hanged by the heels. we will give robert full measure to chew upon. write also that fulke himself is sick to death of a dropsy." '"nay!" cried fulke, hanging in the well-shaft. "drown me out of hand, but do not make a jest of me." '"jest? i?" said de aquila. "i am but fighting for life and lands with a pen, as thou hast shown me, fulke." 'then fulke groaned, for he was cold, and, "let me confess," said he. '"now, this is right neighbourly," said de aquila, leaning over the shaft. "thou hast read my sayings and doings--or at least the first part of them--and thou art minded to repay me with thy own doings and sayings. take pen and inkhorn, gilbert. here is work that will not irk thee." '"let my men go without hurt, and i will confess my treason against the king," said fulke. '"now, why has he grown so tender of his men of a sudden?" said hugh to me; for fulke had no name for mercy to his men. plunder he gave them, but pity, none. '"té! té!" said de aquila. "thy treason was all confessed long ago by gilbert. it would be enough to hang montgomery himself." '"nay; but spare my men," said fulke; and we heard him splash like a fish in a pond, for the tide was rising. '"all in good time," said de aquila. "the night is young; the wine is old; and we need only the merry tale. begin the story of thy life since when thou wast a lad at tours. tell it nimbly!" '"ye shame me to my soul," said fulke. '"then i have done what neither king nor duke could do," said de aquila. "but begin, and forget nothing." '"send thy man away," said fulke. '"that much can i do," said de aquila. "but, remember, i am like the danes' king; i cannot turn the tide." '"how long will it rise?" said fulke, and splashed anew. '"for three hours," said de aquila. "time to tell all thy good deeds. begin, and gilbert,--i have heard thou art somewhat careless--do not twist his words from his true meaning." 'so--fear of death in the dark being upon him--fulke began, and gilbert, not knowing what his fate might be, wrote it word by word. i have heard many tales, but never heard i aught to match the tale of fulke his black life, as fulke told it hollowly, hanging in the shaft.' 'was it bad?' said dan, awestruck. 'beyond belief,' sir richard answered. 'none the less, there was that in it which forced even gilbert to laugh. we three laughed till we ached. at one place his teeth so chattered that we could not well hear, and we reached him down a cup of wine. then he warmed to it, and smoothly set out all his shifts, malices, and treacheries, his extreme boldnesses (he was desperate bold); his retreats, shufflings, and counterfeitings (he was also inconceivably a coward); his lack of gear and honour; his despair at their loss; his remedies, and well-coloured contrivances. yes, he waved the filthy rags of his life before us, as though they had been some proud banner. when he ceased, we saw by torches that the tide stood at the corners of his mouth, and he breathed strongly through his nose. 'we had him out, and rubbed him; we wrapped him in a cloak, and gave him wine, and we leaned and looked upon him, the while he drank. he was shivering, but shameless. 'of a sudden we heard jehan at the stairway wake, but a boy pushed past him, and stood before us, the hall rushes in his hair, all slubbered with sleep. "my father! my father! i dreamed of treachery," he cried, and babbled thickly. '"there is no treachery here," said fulke. "go!" and the boy turned, even then not fully awake, and jehan led him by the hand to the great hall. '"thy only son!" said de aquila. "why didst thou bring the child here?" '"he is my heir. i dared not trust him to my brother," said fulke, and now he was ashamed. de aquila said nothing, but sat weighing a wine cup in his two hands--thus. anon, fulke touched him on the knee. '"let the boy escape to normandy," said he, "and do with me at thy pleasure. yea, hang me tomorrow, with my letter to robert round my neck, but let the boy go." '"be still," said de aquila. "i think for england." 'so we waited what our lord of pevensey should devise; and the sweat ran down fulke's forehead. 'at last said de aquila: "i am too old to judge, or to trust any man. i do not covet thy lands, as thou hast coveted mine; and whether thou art any better or any worse than any other black angevin thief, it is for thy king to find out. therefore, go back to thy king, fulke." '"and thou wilt say nothing of what has passed?" said fulke. '"why should i? thy son will stay with me. if the king calls me again to leave pevensey, which i must guard against england's enemies; if the king sends his men against me for a traitor; or if i hear that the king in his bed thinks any evil of me or my two knights, thy son will be hanged from out this window, fulke."' 'but it hadn't anything to do with his son,' cried una, startled. 'how could we have hanged fulke?' said sir richard. 'we needed him to make our peace with the king. he would have betrayed half england for the boy's sake. of that we were sure.' 'i don't understand,' said una. 'but i think it was simply awful.' 'so did not fulke. he was well pleased.' 'what? because his son was going to be killed?' 'nay. because de aquila had shown him how he might save the boy's life and his own lands and honours. "i will do it," he said. "i swear i will do it. i will tell the king thou art no traitor, but the most excellent, valiant, and perfect of us all. yes, i will save thee." 'de aquila looked still into the bottom of the cup, rolling the wine-dregs to and fro. '"ay," he said. "if i had a son, i would, i think, save him. but do not by any means tell me how thou wilt go about it." '"nay, nay," said fulke, nodding his bald head wisely. "that is my secret. but rest at ease, de aquila, no hair of thy head nor rood of thy land shall be forfeited," and he smiled like one planning great good deeds. '"and henceforward," said de aquila, "i counsel thee to serve one master--not two." '"what?" said fulke. "can i work no more honest trading between the two sides these troublous times?" '"serve robert or the king--england or normandy," said de aquila. "i care not which it is, but make thy choice here and now." '"the king, then," said fulke, "for i see he is better served than robert. shall i swear it?" '"no need," said de aquila, and he laid his hand on the parchments which gilbert had written. "it shall be some part of my gilbert's penance to copy out the savoury tale of thy life, till we have made ten, twenty, an hundred, maybe, copies. how many cattle, think you, would the bishop of tours give for that tale? or thy brother? or the monks of blois? minstrels will turn it into songs which thy own saxon serfs shall sing behind their plough-stilts, and men-at-arms riding through thy norman towns. from here to rome, fulke, men will make very merry over that tale, and how fulke told it, hanging in a well, like a drowned puppy. this shall be thy punishment, if ever i find thee double-dealing with thy king any more. meantime, the parchments stay here with thy son. him i will return to thee when thou hast made my peace with the king. the parchments never." 'fulke hid his face and groaned. '"bones of the saints!" said de aquila, laughing. "the pen cuts deep. i could never have fetched that grunt out of thee with any sword." '"but so long as i do not anger thee, my tale will be secret?" said fulke. '"just so long. does that comfort thee, fulke?" said de aquila. '"what other comfort have ye left me?" he said, and of a sudden he wept hopelessly like a child, dropping his face on his knees.' 'poor fulke,' said una. 'i pitied him also,' said sir richard. '"after the spur, corn," said de aquila, and he threw fulke three wedges of gold that he had taken from our little chest by the bedplace. '"if i had known this," said fulke, catching his breath, "i would never have lifted hand against pevensey. only lack of this yellow stuff has made me so unlucky in my dealings." 'it was dawn then, and they stirred in the great hall below. we sent down fulke's mail to be scoured, and when he rode away at noon under his own and the king's banner, very splendid and stately did he show. he smoothed his long beard, and called his son to his stirrup and kissed him. de aquila rode with him as far as the new mill landward. we thought the night had been all a dream.' 'but did he make it right with the king?' dan asked. 'about your not being traitors, i mean.' sir richard smiled. 'the king sent no second summons to pevensey, nor did he ask why de aquila had not obeyed the first. yes, that was fulke's work. i know not how he did it, but it was well and swiftly done.' 'then you didn't do anything to his son?' said una. 'the boy? oh, he was an imp! he turned the keep doors out of dortoirs while we had him. he sang foul songs, learned in the barons' camps--poor fool; he set the hounds fighting in hall; he lit the rushes to drive out, as he said, the fleas; he drew his dagger on jehan, who threw him down the stairway for it; and he rode his horse through crops and among sheep. but when we had beaten him, and showed him wolf and deer, he followed us old men like a young, eager hound, and called us "uncle". his father came the summer's end to take him away, but the boy had no lust to go, because of the otter-hunting, and he stayed on till the fox-hunting. i gave him a bittern's claw to bring him good luck at shooting. an imp, if ever there was!' 'and what happened to gilbert?' said dan. 'not even a whipping. de aquila said he would sooner a clerk, however false, that knew the manor-roll than a fool, however true, that must be taught his work afresh. moreover, after that night i think gilbert loved as much as he feared de aquila. at least he would not leave us--not even when vivian, the king's clerk, would have made him sacristan of battle abbey. a false fellow, but, in his fashion, bold.' 'did robert ever land in pevensey after all?' dan went on. 'we guarded the coast too well while henry was fighting his barons; and three or four years later, when england had peace, henry crossed to normandy and showed his brother some work at tenchebrai that cured robert of fighting. many of henry's men sailed from pevensey to that war. fulke came, i remember, and we all four lay in the little chamber once again, and drank together. de aquila was right. one should not judge men. fulke was merry. yes, always merry--with a catch in his breath.' 'and what did you do afterwards?' said una. 'we talked together of times past. that is all men can do when they grow old, little maid.' the bell for tea rang faintly across the meadows. dan lay in the bows of the _golden hind_; una in the stern, the book of verses open in her lap, was reading from 'the slave's dream': 'again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, he saw his native land.' 'i don't know when you began that,' said dan, sleepily. on the middle thwart of the boat, beside una's sun-bonnet, lay an oak leaf, an ash leaf, and a thorn leaf, that must have dropped down from the trees above; and the brook giggled as though it had just seen some joke. the runes on weland's sword a smith makes me to betray my man in my first fight. to gather gold at the world's end i am sent. the gold i gather comes into england out of deep water. like a shining fish then it descends into deep water. it is not given for goods or gear, but for the thing. the gold i gather a king covets for an ill use. the gold i gather is drawn up out of deep water. like a shining fish then it descends into deep water. it is not given for goods or gear, but for the thing. a centurion of the thirtieth cities and thrones and powers stand in time's eye, almost as long as flowers, which daily die. but, as new buds put forth to glad new men, out of the spent and unconsidered earth, the cities rise again. this season's daffodil, she never hears, what change, what chance, what chill, cut down last year's: but with bold countenance, and knowledge small, esteems her seven days' continuance to be perpetual. so time that is o'er-kind, to all that be, ordains us e'en as blind, as bold as she: that in our very death, and burial sure, shadow to shadow, well persuaded, saith, 'see how our works endure!' a centurion of the thirtieth dan had come to grief over his latin, and was kept in; so una went alone to far wood. dan's big catapult and the lead bullets that hobden had made for him were hidden in an old hollow beech-stub on the west of the wood. they had named the place out of the verse in _lays of ancient rome_: from lordly volaterrae, where scowls the far-famed hold piled by the hands of giants for godlike kings of old. they were the 'godlike kings', and when old hobden piled some comfortable brushwood between the big wooden knees of volaterrae, they called him 'hands of giants'. una slipped through their private gap in the fence, and sat still awhile, scowling as scowlily and lordlily as she knew how; for volaterrae is an important watch-tower that juts out of far wood just as far wood juts out of the hillside. pook's hill lay below her and all the turns of the brook as it wanders out of the willingford woods, between hop-gardens, to old hobden's cottage at the forge. the sou'-west wind (there is always a wind by volaterrae) blew from the bare ridge where cherry clack windmill stands. now wind prowling through woods sounds like exciting things going to happen, and that is why on blowy days you stand up in volaterrae and shout bits of the _lays_ to suit its noises. una took dan's catapult from its secret place, and made ready to meet lars porsena's army stealing through the wind-whitened aspens by the brook. a gust boomed up the valley, and una chanted sorrowfully: 'verbenna down to ostia hath wasted all the plain: astur hath stormed janiculum, and the stout guards are slain.' but the wind, not charging fair to the wood, started aside and shook a single oak in gleason's pasture. here it made itself all small and crouched among the grasses, waving the tips of them as a cat waves the tip of her tail before she springs. 'now welcome--welcome, sextus,' sang una, loading the catapult-- 'now welcome to thy home! why dost thou stay, and turn away? here lies the road to rome.' she fired into the face of the lull, to wake up the cowardly wind, and heard a grunt from behind a thorn in the pasture. 'oh, my winkie!' she said aloud, and that was something she had picked up from dan. 'i b'lieve i've tickled up a gleason cow.' 'you little painted beast!' a voice cried. 'i'll teach you to sling your masters!' she looked down most cautiously, and saw a young man covered with hoopy bronze armour all glowing among the late broom. but what una admired beyond all was his great bronze helmet with a red horse-tail that flicked in the wind. she could hear the long hairs rasp on his shimmery shoulder-plates. 'what does the faun mean,' he said, half aloud to himself, 'by telling me that the painted people have changed?' he caught sight of una's yellow head. 'have you seen a painted lead-slinger?' he called. 'no-o,' said una. 'but if you've seen a bullet----' 'seen?' cried the man. 'it passed within a hair's breadth of my ear.' 'well, that was me. i'm most awfully sorry.' 'didn't the faun tell you i was coming?' he smiled. 'not if you mean puck. i thought you were a gleason cow. i--i didn't know you were a--a----what are you?' he laughed outright, showing a set of splendid teeth. his face and eyes were dark, and his eyebrows met above his big nose in one bushy black bar. 'they call me parnesius. i have been a centurion of the seventh cohort of the thirtieth legion--the ulpia victrix. did you sling that bullet?' 'i did. i was using dan's catapult,' said una. 'catapults!' said he. 'i ought to know something about them. show me!' he leaped the rough fence with a rattle of spear, shield, and armour, and hoisted himself into volaterrae as quickly as a shadow. 'a sling on a forked stick. i understand!' he cried, and pulled at the elastic. 'but what wonderful beast yields this stretching leather?' 'it's laccy--elastic. you put the bullet into that loop, and then you pull hard.' the man pulled, and hit himself square on his thumb-nail. 'each to his own weapon,' he said gravely, handing it back. 'i am better with the bigger machine, little maiden. but it's a pretty toy. a wolf would laugh at it. aren't you afraid of wolves?' 'there aren't any,' said una. 'never believe it! a wolf's like a winged hat. he comes when he isn't expected. don't they hunt wolves here?' 'we don't hunt,' said una, remembering what she had heard from grown-ups. 'we preserve--pheasants. do you know them?' 'i ought to,' said the young man, smiling again, and he imitated the cry of the cock-pheasant so perfectly that a bird answered out of the wood. 'what a big painted clucking fool is a pheasant!' he said. 'just like some romans.' 'but you're a roman yourself, aren't you?' said una. 'ye-es and no. i'm one of a good few thousands who have never seen rome except in a picture. my people have lived at vectis for generations. vectis--that island west yonder that you can see from so far in clear weather.' 'do you mean the isle of wight? it lifts up just before rain, and you see it from the downs.' 'very likely. our villa's on the south edge of the island, by the broken cliffs. most of it is three hundred years old, but the cow-stables, where our first ancestor lived, must be a hundred years older. oh, quite that, because the founder of our family had his land given him by agricola at the settlement. it's not a bad little place for its size. in spring-time violets grow down to the very beach. i've gathered sea-weeds for myself and violets for my mother many a time with our old nurse.' 'was your nurse a--a romaness too?' 'no, a numidian. gods be good to her! a dear, fat, brown thing with a tongue like a cowbell. she was a free woman. by the way, are you free, maiden?' 'oh, quite,' said una. 'at least, till tea-time; and in summer our governess doesn't say much if we're late.' the young man laughed again--a proper understanding laugh. 'i see,' said he. 'that accounts for your being in the wood. _we_ hid among the cliffs.' 'did you have a governess, then?' 'did we not? a greek, too. she had a way of clutching her dress when she hunted us among the gorse-bushes that made us laugh. then she'd say she'd get us whipped. she never did, though, bless her! aglaia was a thorough sportswoman, for all her learning.' 'but what lessons did you do--when--when you were little?' 'ancient history, the classics, arithmetic and so on,' he answered. 'my sister and i were thick-heads, but my two brothers (i'm the middle one) liked those things, and, of course, mother was clever enough for any six. she was nearly as tall as i am, and she looked like the new statue on the western road--the demeter of the baskets, you know. and funny! roma dea! how mother could make us laugh!' 'what at?' 'little jokes and sayings that every family has. don't you know?' 'i know we have, but i didn't know other people had them too,' said una. 'tell me about all your family, please.' 'good families are very much alike. mother would sit spinning of evenings while aglaia read in her corner, and father did accounts, and we four romped about the passages. when our noise grew too loud the pater would say, "less tumult! less tumult! have you never heard of a father's right over his children? he can slay them, my loves--slay them dead, and the gods highly approve of the action!" then mother would prim up her dear mouth over the wheel and answer: "h'm! i'm afraid there can't be much of the roman father about you!" then the pater would roll up his accounts, and say, "i'll show you!" and then--then, he'd be worse than any of us!' 'fathers can--if they like,' said una, her eyes dancing. 'didn't i say all good families are very much the same?' 'what did you do in summer?' said una. 'play about, like us?' 'yes, and we visited our friends. there are no wolves in vectis. we had many friends, and as many ponies as we wished.' 'it must have been lovely,' said una. 'i hope it lasted for ever.' 'not quite, little maid. when i was about sixteen or seventeen, the father felt gouty, and we all went to the waters.' 'what waters?' 'at aquae solis. every one goes there. you ought to get your father to take you some day.' 'but where? i don't know,' said una. the young man looked astonished for a moment. 'aquae solis,' he repeated. 'the best baths in britain. just as good, i'm told, as rome. all the old gluttons sit in hot water, and talk scandal and politics. and the generals come through the streets with their guards behind them; and the magistrates come in their chairs with their stiff guards behind them; and you meet fortune-tellers, and goldsmiths, and merchants, and philosophers, and feather-sellers, and ultra-roman britons, and ultra-british romans, and tame tribesmen pretending to be civilised, and jew lecturers, and--oh, everybody interesting. we young people, of course, took no interest in politics. we had not the gout: there were many of our age like us. we did not find life sad. 'but while we were enjoying ourselves without thinking, my sister met the son of a magistrate in the west--and a year afterwards she was married to him. my young brother, who was always interested in plants and roots, met the first doctor of a legion from the city of the legions, and he decided that he would be an army doctor. i do not think it is a profession for a well-born man, but then--i'm not my brother. he went to rome to study medicine, and now he's first doctor of a legion in egypt--at antinoe, i think, but i have not heard from him for some time. 'my eldest brother came across a greek philosopher, and told my father that he intended to settle down on the estate as a farmer and a philosopher. you see,'--the young man's eyes twinkled--'his philosopher was a long-haired one!' 'i thought philosophers were bald,' said una. 'not all. she was very pretty. i don't blame him. nothing could have suited me better than my eldest brother's doing this, for i was only too keen to join the army. i had always feared i should have to stay at home and look after the estate while my brother took _this_.' he rapped on his great glistening shield that never seemed to be in his way. 'so we were well contented--we young people--and we rode back to clausentum along the wood road very quietly. but when we reached home, aglaia, our governess, saw what had come to us. i remember her at the door, the torch over her head, watching us climb the cliff-path from the boat. "aie! aie!" she said. "children you went away. men and a woman you return!" then she kissed mother, and mother wept. thus our visit to the waters settled our fates for each of us, maiden.' he rose to his feet and listened, leaning on the shield-rim. 'i think that's dan--my brother,' said una. 'yes; and the faun is with him,' he replied, as dan with puck stumbled through the copse. 'we should have come sooner,' puck called, 'but the beauties of your native tongue, o parnesius, have enthralled this young citizen.' parnesius looked bewildered, even when una explained. 'dan said the plural of "dominus" was "dominoes", and when miss blake said it wasn't he said he supposed it was "backgammon", and so he had to write it out twice--for cheek, you know.' dan had climbed into volaterrae, hot and panting. 'i've run nearly all the way,' he gasped, 'and then puck met me. how do you do, sir?' 'i am in good health,' parnesius answered. 'see! i have tried to bend the bow of ulysses, but----' he held up his thumb. 'i'm sorry. you must have pulled off too soon,' said dan. 'but puck said you were telling una a story.' 'continue, o parnesius,' said puck, who had perched himself on a dead branch above them. 'i will be chorus. has he puzzled you much, una?' 'not a bit, except--i didn't know where ak--ak something was,' she answered. 'oh, aquae solis. that's bath, where the buns come from. let the hero tell his own tale.' parnesius pretended to thrust his spear at puck's legs, but puck reached down, caught at the horse-tail plume, and pulled off the tall helmet. 'thanks, jester,' said parnesius, shaking his curly dark head. 'that is cooler. now hang it up for me.... 'i was telling your sister how i joined the army,' he said to dan. 'did you have to pass an exam?' dan asked eagerly. 'no. i went to my father, and said i should like to enter the dacian horse (i had seen some at aquae solis); but he said i had better begin service in a regular legion from rome. now, like many of our youngsters, i was not too fond of anything roman. the roman-born officers and magistrates looked down on us british-born as though we were barbarians. i told my father so. '"i know they do," he said; "but remember, after all, we are the people of the old stock, and our duty is to the empire." '"to which empire?" i asked. "we split the eagle before i was born." '"what thieves' talk is that?" said my father. he hated slang. '"well, sir," i said, "we've one emperor in rome, and i don't know how many emperors the outlying provinces have set up from time to time. which am i to follow?" '"gratian," said he. "at least he's a sportsman." '"he's all that," i said. "hasn't he turned himself into a raw-beef-eating scythian?" '"where did you hear of it?" said the pater. '"at aquae solis," i said. it was perfectly true. this precious emperor gratian of ours had a bodyguard of fur-cloaked scythians, and he was so crazy about them that he dressed like them. in rome of all places in the world! it was as bad as if my own father had painted himself blue! '"no matter for the clothes," said the pater. "they are only the fringe of the trouble. it began before your time or mine. rome has forsaken her gods, and must be punished. the great war with the painted people broke out in the very year the temples of our gods were destroyed. we beat the painted people in the very year our temples were rebuilt. go back further still."... he went back to the time of diocletian; and to listen to him you would have thought eternal rome herself was on the edge of destruction, just because a few people had become a little large-minded. '_i_ knew nothing about it. aglaia never taught us the history of our own country. she was so full of her ancient greeks. '"there is no hope for rome," said the pater, at last. "she has forsaken her gods, but if the gods forgive _us_ here, we may save britain. to do that, we must keep the painted people back. therefore, i tell you, parnesius, as a father, that if your heart is set on service, your place is among men on the wall--and not with women among the cities."' 'what wall?' asked dan and una at once. 'father meant the one we call hadrian's wall. i'll tell you about it later. it was built long ago, across north britain, to keep out the painted people--picts, you call them. father had fought in the great pict war that lasted more than twenty years, and he knew what fighting meant. theodosius, one of our great generals, had chased the little beasts back far into the north before i was born. down at vectis, of course, we never troubled our heads about them. but when my father spoke as he did, i kissed his hand, and waited for orders. we british-born romans know what is due to our parents.' 'if i kissed my father's hand, he'd laugh,' said dan. 'customs change; but if you do not obey your father, the gods remember it. you may be quite sure of _that_. 'after our talk, seeing i was in earnest, the pater sent me over to clausentum to learn my foot-drill in a barrack full of foreign auxiliaries--as unwashed and unshaved a mob of mixed barbarians as ever scrubbed a breastplate. it was your stick in their stomachs and your shield in their faces to push them into any sort of formation. when i had learned my work the instructor gave me a handful--and they were a handful!--of gauls and iberians to polish up till they were sent to their stations up-country. i did my best, and one night a villa in the suburbs caught fire, and i had my handful out and at work before any of the other troops. i noticed a quiet-looking man on the lawn, leaning on a stick. he watched us passing buckets from the pond, and at last he said to me: "who are you?" '"a probationer, waiting for a command," i answered. _i_ didn't know who he was from deucalion! '"born in britain?" he said. '"yes, if you were born in spain," i said, for he neighed his words like an iberian mule. '"and what might you call yourself when you are at home?" he said, laughing. '"that depends," i answered; "sometimes one thing and sometimes another. but now i'm busy." 'he said no more till we had saved the family gods (they were respectable householders), and then he grunted across the laurels: "listen, young sometimes-one-thing-and-sometimes-another. in future call yourself centurion of the seventh cohort of the thirtieth, the ulpia victrix. that will help me to remember you. your father and a few other people call me maximus." 'he tossed me the polished stick he was leaning on, and went away. you might have knocked me down with it!' 'who was he?' said dan. 'maximus himself, our great general! _the_ general of britain who had been theodosius's right hand in the pict war! not only had he given me my centurion's stick direct, but three steps in a good legion as well! a new man generally begins in the tenth cohort of his legion, and works up.' 'and were you pleased?' said una. 'very. i thought maximus had chosen me for my good looks and fine style in marching, but, when i went home, the pater told me he had served under maximus in the great pict war, and had asked him to befriend me.' 'a child you were!' said puck, from above. 'i was,' said parnesius. 'don't begrudge it me, faun. afterwards--the gods know i put aside the games!' and puck nodded, brown chin on brown hand, his big eyes still. 'the night before i left we sacrificed to our ancestors--the usual little home sacrifice--but i never prayed so earnestly to all the good shades, and then i went with my father by boat to regnum, and across the chalk eastwards to anderida yonder.' 'regnum? anderida?' the children turned their faces to puck. 'regnum's chichester,' he said, pointing towards cherry clack, 'and'--he threw his arm south behind him--'anderida's pevensey.' 'pevensey again!' said dan. 'where weland landed?' 'weland and a few others,' said puck. 'pevensey isn't young--even compared to me!' 'the headquarters of the thirtieth lay at anderida in summer, but my own cohort, the seventh, was on the wall up north. maximus was inspecting auxiliaries--the abulci, i think--at anderida, and we stayed with him, for he and my father were very old friends. i was only there ten days when i was ordered to go up with thirty men to my cohort.' he laughed merrily. 'a man never forgets his first march. i was happier than any emperor when i led my handful through the north gate of the camp, and we saluted the guard and the altar of victory there.' 'how? how?' said dan and una. parnesius smiled, and stood up, flashing in his armour. 'so!' said he; and he moved slowly through the beautiful movements of the roman salute, that ends with a hollow clang of the shield coming into its place between the shoulders. 'hai!' said puck. 'that sets one thinking!' 'we went out fully armed,' said parnesius, sitting down; 'but as soon as the road entered the great forest, my men expected the pack-horses to hang their shields on. "no!" i said; "you can dress like women in anderida, but while you're with me you will carry your own weapons and armour." '"but it's hot," said one of them, "and we haven't a doctor. suppose we get sunstroke, or a fever?" '"then die," i said, "and a good riddance to rome! up shield--up spears, and tighten your foot-wear!" '"don't think yourself emperor of britain already," a fellow shouted. i knocked him over with the butt of my spear, and explained to these roman-born romans that, if there were any further trouble, we should go on with one man short. and, by the light of the sun, i meant it too! my raw gauls at clausentum had never treated me so. 'then, quietly as a cloud, maximus rode out of the fern (my father behind him), and reined up across the road. he wore the purple, as though he were already emperor; his leggings were of white buckskin laced with gold. 'my men dropped like--like partridges. 'he said nothing for some time, only looked, with his eyes puckered. then he crooked his forefinger, and my men walked--crawled, i mean--to one side. '"stand in the sun, children," he said, and they formed up on the hard road. '"what would you have done," he said to me, "if i had not been here?" '"i should have killed that man," i answered. '"kill him now," he said. "he will not move a limb." '"no," i said. "you've taken my men out of my command. i should only be your butcher if i killed him now." do you see what i meant?' parnesius turned to dan. 'yes,' said dan. 'it wouldn't have been fair, somehow.' 'that was what i thought,' said parnesius. 'but maximus frowned. "you'll never be an emperor," he said. "not even a general will you be." 'i was silent, but my father seemed pleased. '"i came here to see the last of you," he said. '"you have seen it," said maximus. "i shall never need your son any more. he will live and he will die an officer of a legion--and he might have been prefect of one of my provinces. now eat and drink with us," he said. "your men will wait till you have finished." 'my miserable thirty stood like wine-skins glistening in the hot sun, and maximus led us to where his people had set a meal. himself he mixed the wine. '"a year from now," he said, "you will remember that you have sat with the emperor of britain--and gaul." '"yes," said the pater, "you can drive two mules--gaul and britain." '"five years hence you will remember that you have drunk"--he passed me the cup and there was blue borage in it--"with the emperor of rome!" '"no; you can't drive three mules. they will tear you in pieces," said my father. '"and you on the wall, among the heather, will weep because your notion of justice was more to you than the favour of the emperor of rome." 'i sat quite still. one does not answer a general who wears the purple. '"i am not angry with you," he went on; "i owe too much to your father----" '"you owe me nothing but advice that you never took," said the pater. '"----to be unjust to any of your family. indeed, i say you may make a good tribune, but, so far as i am concerned, on the wall you will live, and on the wall you will die," said maximus. '"very like," said my father. "but we shall have the picts _and_ their friends breaking through before long. you cannot move all troops out of britain to make you emperor, and expect the north to sit quiet." '"i follow my destiny," said maximus. '"follow it, then," said my father, pulling up a fern root; "and die as theodosius died." '"ah!" said maximus. "my old general was killed because he served the empire too well. _i_ may be killed, but not for that reason," and he smiled a little pale grey smile that made my blood run cold. '"then i had better follow my destiny," i said, "and take my men to the wall." 'he looked at me a long time, and bowed his head slanting like a spaniard. "follow it, boy," he said. that was all. i was only too glad to get away, though i had many messages for home. i found my men standing as they had been put--they had not even shifted their feet in the dust, and off i marched, still feeling that terrific smile like an east wind up my back. i never halted them till sunset, and'--he turned about and looked at pook's hill below him--'then i halted yonder.' he pointed to the broken, bracken-covered shoulder of the forge hill behind old hobden's cottage. 'there? why, that's only the old forge--where they made iron once,' said dan. 'very good stuff it was too,' said parnesius calmly. 'we mended three shoulder-straps here and had a spear-head riveted. the forge was rented from the government by a one-eyed smith from carthage. i remember we called him cyclops. he sold me a beaver-skin rug for my sister's room.' 'but it couldn't have been here,' dan insisted. 'but it was! from the altar of victory at anderida to the first forge in the forest here is twelve miles seven hundred paces. it is all in the road book. a man doesn't forget his first march. i think i could tell you every station between this and----' he leaned forward, but his eye was caught by the setting sun. it had come down to the top of cherry clack hill, and the light poured in between the tree trunks so that you could see red and gold and black deep into the heart of far wood; and parnesius in his armour shone as though he had been afire. 'wait!' he said, lifting a hand, and the sunlight jinked on his glass bracelet. 'wait! i pray to mithras!' he rose and stretched his arms westward, with deep, splendid-sounding words. then puck began to sing too, in a voice like bells tolling, and as he sang he slipped from volaterrae to the ground, and beckoned the children to follow. they obeyed; it seemed as though the voices were pushing them along; and through the goldy-brown light on the beech leaves they walked, while puck between them chanted something like this: 'cur mundus militat sub vana gloria cujus prosperitas est transitoria? tam cito labitur ejus potentia quam vasa figuli quæ sunt fragilia.' they found themselves at the little locked gates of the wood. 'quo cæsar abiit celsus imperio? vel dives splendidus totus in prandio? dic ubi tullius----' still singing, he took dan's hand and wheeled him round to face una as she came out of the gate. it shut behind her, at the same time as puck threw the memory-magicking oak, ash and thorn leaves over their heads. 'well, you _are_ jolly late,' said una. 'couldn't you get away before?' 'i did,' said dan. 'i got away in lots of time, but--but i didn't know it was so late. where've you been?' 'in volaterrae--waiting for you.' 'sorry,' said dan. 'it was all that beastly latin.' a british-roman song (a.d. ) my father's father saw it not, and i, belike, shall never come, to look on that so-holy spot-- the very rome-- crowned by all time, all art, all might, the equal work of gods and man, city beneath whose oldest height-- the race began! soon to send forth again a brood, unshakeable, we pray, that clings, to rome's thrice-hammered hardihood-- in arduous things. strong heart with triple armour bound, beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs, age after age, the empire round-- in us thy sons, who, distant from the seven hills, loving and serving much, require thee,--thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills the imperial fire! on the great wall 'when i left rome for lalage's sake by the legions' road to rimini, she vowed her heart was mine to take with me and my shield to rimini-- (till the eagles flew from rimini!) and i've tramped britain, and i've tramped gaul, and the pontic shore where the snow-flakes fall as white as the neck of lalage-- (as cold as the heart of lalage!) and i've lost britain, and i've lost gaul,' (the voice seemed very cheerful about it), 'and i've lost rome, and, worst of all, i've lost lalage!' they were standing by the gate to far wood when they heard this song. without a word they hurried to their private gap and wriggled through the hedge almost atop of a jay that was feeding from puck's hand. 'gently!' said puck. 'what are you looking for?' 'parnesius, of course,' dan answered. 'we've only just remembered yesterday. it isn't fair.' puck chuckled as he rose. 'i'm sorry, but children who spend the afternoon with me and a roman centurion need a little settling dose of magic before they go to tea with their governess. ohé, parnesius!' he called. 'here, faun!' came the answer from volaterrae. they could see the shimmer of bronze armour in the beech crotch, and the friendly flash of the great shield uplifted. 'i have driven out the britons.' parnesius laughed like a boy. 'i occupy their high forts. but rome is merciful! you may come up.' and up they three all scrambled. 'what was the song you were singing just now?' said una, as soon as she had settled herself. 'that? oh, _rimini_. it's one of the tunes that are always being born somewhere in the empire. they run like a pestilence for six months or a year, till another one pleases the legions, and then they march to _that_.' 'tell them about the marching, parnesius. few people nowadays walk from end to end of this country,' said puck. 'the greater their loss. i know nothing better than the long march when your feet are hardened. you begin after the mists have risen, and you end, perhaps, an hour after sundown.' 'and what do you have to eat?' dan asked promptly. 'fat bacon, beans, and bread, and whatever wine happens to be in the rest-houses. but soldiers are born grumblers. their very first day out, my men complained of our water-ground british corn. they said it wasn't so filling as the rough stuff that is ground in the roman ox-mills. however, they had to fetch and eat it.' 'fetch it? where from?' said una. 'from that newly invented water-mill below the forge.' 'that's forge mill--_our_ mill!' una looked at puck. 'yes; yours,' puck put in. 'how old did you think it was?' 'i don't know. didn't sir richard dalyngridge talk about it?' 'he did, and it was old in his day,' puck answered. 'hundreds of years old.' 'it was new in mine,' said parnesius. 'my men looked at the flour in their helmets as though it had been a nest of adders. they did it to try my patience. but i--addressed them, and we became friends. to tell the truth, they taught me the roman step. you see, i'd only served with quick-marching auxiliaries. a legion's pace is altogether different. it is a long, slow stride, that never varies from sunrise to sunset. "rome's race--rome's pace," as the proverb says. twenty-four miles in eight hours, neither more nor less. head and spear up, shield on your back, cuirass-collar open one hand's breadth--and that's how you take the eagles through britain.' 'and did you meet any adventures?' said dan. 'there are no adventures south the wall,' said parnesius. 'the worst thing that happened me was having to appear before a magistrate up north, where a wandering philosopher had jeered at the eagles. i was able to show that the old man had deliberately blocked our road; and the magistrate told him, out of his own book, i believe, that, whatever his gods might be, he should pay proper respect to cæsar.' 'what did you do?' said dan. 'went on. why should _i_ care for such things, my business being to reach my station? it took me twenty days. 'of course, the farther north you go the emptier are the roads. at last you fetch clear of the forests and climb bare hills, where wolves howl in the ruins of our cities that have been. no more pretty girls; no more jolly magistrates who knew your father when he was young, and invite you to stay with them; no news at the temples and way-stations except bad news of wild beasts. there's where you meet hunters, and trappers for the circuses, prodding along chained bears and muzzled wolves. your pony shies at them, and your men laugh. 'the houses change from gardened villas to shut forts with watch-towers of grey stone, and great stone-walled sheepfolds, guarded by armed britons of the north shore. in the naked hills beyond the naked houses, where the shadows of the clouds play like cavalry charging, you see puffs of black smoke from the mines. the hard road goes on and on--and the wind sings through your helmet-plume--past altars to legions and generals forgotten, and broken statues of gods and heroes, and thousands of graves where the mountain foxes and hares peep at you. red-hot in summer, freezing in winter, is that big, purple heather country of broken stone. 'just when you think you are at the world's end, you see a smoke from east to west as far as the eye can turn, and then, under it, also as far as the eye can stretch, houses and temples, shops and theatres, barracks and granaries, trickling along like dice behind--always behind--one long, low, rising and falling, and hiding and showing line of towers. and that is the wall!' 'ah!' said the children, taking breath. 'you may well,' said parnesius. 'old men who have followed the eagles since boyhood say nothing in the empire is more wonderful than first sight of the wall!' 'is it just a wall? like the one round the kitchen-garden?' said dan. 'no, no! it is _the_ wall. along the top are towers with guard-houses, small towers, between. even on the narrowest part of it three men with shields can walk abreast, from guard-house to guard-house. a little curtain wall, no higher than a man's neck, runs along the top of the thick wall, so that from a distance you see the helmets of the sentries sliding back and forth like beads. thirty feet high is the wall, and on the picts' side, the north, is a ditch, strewn with blades of old swords and spear-heads set in wood, and tyres of wheels joined by chains. the little people come there to steal iron for their arrow-heads. 'but the wall itself is not more wonderful than the town behind it. long ago there were great ramparts and ditches on the south side, and no one was allowed to build there. now the ramparts are partly pulled down and built over, from end to end of the wall; making a thin town eighty miles long. think of it! one roaring, rioting, cock-fighting, wolf-baiting, horse-racing town, from ituna on the west to segedunum on the cold eastern beach! on one side heather, woods and ruins where picts hide, and on the other, a vast town--long like a snake, and wicked like a snake. yes, a snake basking beside a warm wall! 'my cohort, i was told, lay at hunno, where the great north road runs through the wall into the province of valentia.' parnesius laughed scornfully. 'the province of valentia! we followed the road, therefore, into hunno town, and stood astonished. the place was a fair--a fair of peoples from every corner of the empire. some were racing horses: some sat in wine-shops: some watched dogs baiting bears, and many gathered in a ditch to see cocks fight. a boy not much older than myself, but i could see he was an officer, reined up before me and asked what i wanted. '"my station," i said, and showed him my shield.' parnesius held up his broad shield with its three x's like letters on a beer-cask. '"lucky omen!" said he. "your cohort's the next tower to us, but they're all at the cock-fight. this is a happy place. come and wet the eagles." he meant to offer me a drink. '"when i've handed over my men," i said. i felt angry and ashamed. '"oh, you'll soon outgrow that sort of nonsense," he answered. "but don't let me interfere with your hopes. go on to the statue of roma dea. you can't miss it. the main road into valentia!" and he laughed and rode off. i could see the statue not a quarter of a mile away, and there i went. at some time or other the great north road ran under it into valentia; but the far end had been blocked up because of the picts, and on the plaster a man had scratched, "finish!" it was like marching into a cave. we grounded spears together, my little thirty, and it echoed in the barrel of the arch, but none came. there was a door at one side painted with our number. we prowled in, and i found a cook asleep, and ordered him to give us food. then i climbed to the top of the wall, and looked out over the pict country, and i--thought,' said parnesius. 'the bricked-up arch with "finish!" on the plaster was what shook me, for i was not much more than a boy.' 'what a shame!' said una. 'but did you feel happy after you'd had a good----' dan stopped her with a nudge. 'happy?' said parnesius. 'when the men of the cohort i was to command came back unhelmeted from the cock-fight, their birds under their arms, and asked me who i was? no, i was not happy; but i made my new cohort unhappy too ... i wrote my mother i was happy, but, oh, my friends'--he stretched arms over bare knees--'i would not wish my worst enemy to suffer as i suffered through my first months on the wall. remember this: among the officers was scarcely one, except myself (and i thought i had lost the favour of maximus, my general), scarcely one who had not done something of wrong or folly. either he had killed a man, or taken money, or insulted the magistrates, or blasphemed the gods, and so had been sent to the wall as a hiding-place from shame or fear. and the men were as the officers. remember, also, that the wall was manned by every breed and race in the empire. no two towers spoke the same tongue, or worshipped the same gods. in one thing only we were all equal. no matter what arms we had used before we came to the wall, _on_ the wall we were all archers, like the scythians. the pict cannot run away from the arrow, or crawl under it. he is a bowman himself. _he_ knows!' 'i suppose you were fighting picts all the time,' said dan. 'picts seldom fight. i never saw a fighting pict for half a year. the tame picts told us they had all gone north.' 'what is a tame pict?' said dan. 'a pict--there were many such--who speaks a few words of our tongue, and slips across the wall to sell ponies and wolf-hounds. without a horse and a dog, _and_ a friend, man would perish. the gods gave me all three, and there is no gift like friendship. remember this'--parnesius turned to dan--'when you become a young man. for your fate will turn on the first true friend you make.' 'he means,' said puck, grinning, 'that if you try to make yourself a decent chap when you're young, you'll make rather decent friends when you grow up. if you're a beast, you'll have beastly friends. listen to the pious parnesius on friendship!' 'i am not pious,' parnesius answered, 'but i know what goodness means; and my friend, though he was without hope, was ten thousand times better than i. stop laughing, faun!' 'oh, youth eternal and all-believing,' cried puck, as he rocked on the branch above. 'tell them about your pertinax.' 'he was that friend the gods sent me--the boy who spoke to me when i first came. little older than myself, commanding the augusta victoria cohort on the tower next to us and the numidians. in virtue he was far my superior.' 'then why was he on the wall?' una asked, quickly. 'they'd all done something bad. you said so yourself.' 'he was the nephew, his father had died, of a great rich man in gaul who was not always kind to his mother. when pertinax grew up, he discovered this, and so his uncle shipped him off, by trickery and force, to the wall. we came to know each other at a ceremony in our temple--in the dark. it was the bull-killing,' parnesius explained to puck. '_i_ see, said puck, and turned to the children. 'that's something you wouldn't quite understand. parnesius means he met pertinax in church.' 'yes--in the cave we first met, and we were both raised to the degree of gryphons together.' parnesius lifted his hand towards his neck for an instant. 'he had been on the wall two years, and knew the picts well. he taught me first how to take heather.' 'what's that?' said dan. 'going out hunting in the pict country with a tame pict. you are quite safe so long as you are his guest, and wear a sprig of heather where it can be seen. if you went alone you would surely be killed, if you were not smothered first in the bogs. only the picts know their way about those black and hidden bogs. old allo, the one-eyed, withered little pict from whom we bought our ponies, was our special friend. at first we went only to escape from the terrible town, and to talk together about our homes. then he showed us how to hunt wolves and those great red deer with horns like jewish candlesticks. the roman-born officers rather looked down on us for doing this, but we preferred the heather to their amusements. believe me,' parnesius turned again to dan, 'a boy is safe from all things that really harm when he is astride a pony or after a deer. do you remember, o faun,'--he turned to puck--'the little altar i built to the sylvan pan by the pine-forest beyond the brook?' 'which? the stone one with the line from xenophon?' said puck, in quite a new voice. 'no! what do _i_ know of xenophon? that was pertinax--after he had shot his first mountain-hare with an arrow--by chance! mine i made of round pebbles, in memory of my first bear. it took me one happy day to build.' parnesius faced the children quickly. 'and that was how we lived on the wall for two years--a little scuffling with the picts, and a great deal of hunting with old allo in the pict country. he called us his children sometimes, and we were fond of him and his barbarians, though we never let them paint us pict fashion. the marks endure till you die.' 'how's it done?' said dan. 'anything like tattooing?' 'they prick the skin till the blood runs, and rub in coloured juices. allo was painted blue, green, and red from his forehead to his ankles. he said it was part of his religion. he told us about his religion (pertinax was always interested in such things), and as we came to know him well, he told us what was happening in britain behind the wall. many things took place behind us in those days. and by the light of the sun,' said parnesius, earnestly, 'there was not much that those little people did not know! he told me when maximus crossed over to gaul, after he had made himself emperor of britain, and what troops and emigrants he had taken with him. we did not get the news on the wall till fifteen days later. he told me what troops maximus was taking out of britain every month to help him to conquer gaul; and i always found the numbers were as he said. wonderful! and i tell another strange thing!' he joined his hands across his knees, and leaned his head on the curve of the shield behind him. 'late in the summer, when the first frosts begin and the picts kill their bees, we three rode out after wolf with some new hounds. rutilianus, our general, had given us ten days' leave, and we had pushed beyond the second wall--beyond the province of valentia--into the higher hills, where there are not even any of old rome's ruins. we killed a she-wolf before noon, and while allo was skinning her he looked up and said to me, "when you are captain of the wall, my child, you won't be able to do this any more!" 'i might as well have been made prefect of lower gaul, so i laughed and said, "wait till i am captain." '"no, don't wait," said allo. "take my advice and go home--both of you." '"we have no homes," said pertinax. "you know that as well as we do. we're finished men--thumbs down against both of us. only men without hope would risk their necks on your ponies." the old man laughed one of those short pict laughs--like a fox barking on a frosty night. "i'm fond of you two," he said. "besides, i've taught you what little you know about hunting. take my advice and go home." '"we can't," i said. "i'm out of favour with my general, for one thing; and for another, pertinax has an uncle." '"i don't know about his uncle," said allo, "but the trouble with you, parnesius, is that your general thinks well of you." '"roma dea!" said pertinax, sitting up. "what can you guess what maximus thinks, you old horse-coper?" 'just then (you know how near the brutes creep when one is eating?) a great dog-wolf jumped out behind us, and away our rested hounds tore after him, with us at their tails. he ran us far out of any country we'd ever heard of, straight as an arrow till sunset, towards the sunset. we came at last to long capes stretching into winding waters, and on a grey beach below us we saw ships drawn up. forty-seven we counted--not roman galleys but the raven-winged ships from the north where rome does not rule. men moved in the ships, and the sun flashed on their helmets--winged helmets of the red-haired men from the north where rome does not rule. we watched, and we counted, and we wondered, for though we had heard rumours concerning these winged hats, as the picts called them, never before had we looked upon them. '"come away! come away!" said allo. "my heather won't protect you here. we shall all be killed!" his legs trembled like his voice. back we went--back across the heather under the moon, till it was nearly morning, and our poor beasts stumbled on some ruins. 'when we woke, very stiff and cold, allo was mixing the meal and water. one does not light fires in the pict country except near a village. the little men are always signalling to each other with smokes, and a strange smoke brings them out buzzing like bees. they can sting, too! '"what we saw last night was a trading-station," said allo. "nothing but a trading-station." '"i do not like lies on an empty stomach," said pertinax. "i suppose" (he had eyes like an eagle's)--"i suppose _that_ is a trading-station also?" he pointed to a smoke far off on a hill-top, ascending in what we call the picts' call:--puff--double-puff: double-puff--puff! they make it by raising and dropping a wet hide on a fire. '"no," said allo, pushing the platter back into the bag. "that is for you and me. your fate is fixed. come." 'we came. when one takes heather, one must obey one's pict--but that wretched smoke was twenty miles distant, well over on the east coast, and the day was as hot as a bath. '"whatever happens," said allo, while our ponies grunted along, "i want you to remember me." '"i shall not forget," said pertinax. "you have cheated me out of my breakfast." "what is a handful of crushed oats to a roman?" he said. then he laughed his laugh that was not a laugh. "what would _you_ do if _you_ were a handful of oats being crushed between the upper and lower stones of a mill?" '"i'm pertinax, not a riddle-guesser," said pertinax. '"you're a fool," said allo. "your gods and my gods are threatened by strange gods, and all you can do is to laugh." '"threatened men live long," i said. '"i pray the gods that may be true," he said. "but i ask you again not to forget me." 'we climbed the last hot hill and looked out on the eastern sea, three or four miles off. there was a small sailing-galley of the north gaul pattern at anchor, her landing-plank down and her sail half up; and below us, alone in a hollow, holding his pony, sat maximus, emperor of britain! he was dressed like a hunter, and he leaned on his little stick; but i knew that back as far as i could see it, and i told pertinax. '"you're madder than allo!" he said. "it must be the sun!" 'maximus never stirred till we stood before him. then he looked me up and down, and said: "hungry again? it seems to be my destiny to feed you whenever we meet. i have food here. allo shall cook it." '"no," said allo. "a prince in his own land does not wait on wandering emperors. i feed my two children without asking your leave." he began to blow up the ashes. '"i was wrong," said pertinax. "we are all mad. speak up, o madman called emperor!" 'maximus smiled his terrible tight-lipped smile, but two years on the wall do not make a man afraid of mere looks. so i was not afraid. '"i meant you, parnesius, to live and die a centurion of the wall," said maximus. "but it seems from these,"--he fumbled in his breast--"you can think as well as draw." he pulled out a roll of letters i had written to my people, full of drawings of picts, and bears, and men i had met on the wall. mother and my sister always liked my pictures. 'he handed me one that i had called "maximus's soldiers". it showed a row of fat wine-skins, and our old doctor of the hunno hospital snuffing at them. each time that maximus had taken troops out of britain to help him to conquer gaul, he used to send the garrisons more wine--to keep them quiet, i suppose. on the wall, we always called a wine-skin a "maximus". oh, yes; and i had drawn them in imperial helmets. '"not long since," he went on, "men's names were sent up to cæsar for smaller jokes than this." '"true, cæsar," said pertinax; "but you forget that was before i, your friend's friend, became such a good spear-thrower." 'he did not actually point his hunting-spear at maximus, but balanced it on his palm--so! '"i was speaking of time past," said maximus, never fluttering an eyelid. "nowadays one is only too pleased to find boys who can think for themselves, _and_ their friends." he nodded at pertinax. "your father lent me the letters, parnesius, so you run no risk from me." '"none whatever," said pertinax, and rubbed the spear-point on his sleeve. '"i have been forced to reduce the garrisons in britain, because i need troops in gaul. now i come to take troops from the wall itself," said he. '"i wish you joy of us," said pertinax. "we're the last sweepings of the empire--the men without hope. myself, i'd sooner trust condemned criminals." '"you think so?" he said, quite seriously. "but it will only be till i win gaul. one must always risk one's life, or one's soul, or one's peace--or some little thing." 'allo passed round the fire with the sizzling deer's meat. he served us two first. '"ah!" said maximus, waiting his turn. "i perceive you are in your own country. well, you deserve it. they tell me you have quite a following among the picts, parnesius." '"i have hunted with them," i said. "maybe i have a few friends among the heather." '"he is the only armoured man of you all who understands us," said allo, and he began a long speech about our virtues, and how we had saved one of his grandchildren from a wolf the year before.' 'had you?' said una. 'yes; but that was neither here nor there. the little green man orated like a--like cicero. he made us out to be magnificent fellows. maximus never took his eyes off our faces. '"enough," he said. "i have heard allo on you. i wish to hear you on the picts." 'i told him as much as i knew, and pertinax helped me out. there is never harm in a pict if you but take the trouble to find out what he wants. their real grievance against us came from our burning their heather. the whole garrison of the wall moved out twice a year, and solemnly burned the heather for ten miles north. rutilianus, our general, called it clearing the country. the picts, of course, scampered away, and all we did was to destroy their bee-bloom in the summer, and ruin their sheep-food in the spring. '"true, quite true," said allo. "how can we make our holy heather-wine, if you burn our bee-pasture?" 'we talked long, maximus asking keen questions that showed he knew much and had thought more about the picts. he said presently to me: "if i gave you the old province of valentia to govern, could you keep the picts contented till i won gaul? stand away, so that you do not see allo's face; and speak your own thoughts." '"no," i said. "you cannot remake that province. the picts have been free too long." '"leave them their village councils, and let them furnish their own soldiers," he said. "you, i am sure, would hold the reins very lightly." "even then, no," i said. "at least not now. they have been too oppressed by us to trust anything with a roman name for years and years." 'i heard old allo behind me mutter: "good child!" '"then what do you recommend," said maximus, "to keep the north quiet till i win gaul?" '"leave the picts alone," i said. "stop the heather-burning at once, and--they are improvident little animals--send them a shipload or two of corn now and then." '"their own men must distribute it--not some cheating greek accountant," said pertinax. '"yes, and allow them to come to our hospitals when they are sick," i said. '"surely they would die first," said maximus. '"not if parnesius brought them in," said allo. "i could show you twenty wolf-bitten, bear-clawed picts within twenty miles of here. but parnesius must stay with them in hospital, else they would go mad with fear." '"i see," said maximus. "like everything else in the world, it is one man's work. you, i think, are that one man." '"pertinax and i are one," i said. '"as you please, so long as you work. now, allo, you know that i mean your people no harm. leave us to talk together," said maximus. '"no need!" said allo. "i am the corn between the upper and lower millstones. i must know what the lower millstone means to do. these boys have spoken the truth as far as they know it. i, a prince, will tell you the rest. i am troubled about the men of the north." he squatted like a hare in the heather, and looked over his shoulder. '"i also," said maximus, "or i should not be here." '"listen," said allo. "long and long ago the winged hats"--he meant the northmen--"came to our beaches and said, 'rome falls! push her down!' we fought you. you sent men. we were beaten. after that we said to the winged hats, 'you are liars! make our men alive that rome killed, and we will believe you.' they went away ashamed. now they come back bold, and they tell the old tale, which we begin to believe--that rome falls!" '"give me three years' peace on the wall," cried maximus, "and i will show you and all the ravens how they lie!" '"ah, i wish it too! i wish to save what is left of the corn from the millstones. but you shoot us picts when we come to borrow a little iron from the iron ditch; you burn our heather, which is all our crop; you trouble us with your great catapults. then you hide behind the wall, and scorch us with greek fire. how can i keep my young men from listening to the winged hats--in winter especially, when we are hungry? my young men will say, 'rome can neither fight nor rule. she is taking her men out of britain. the winged hats will help us to push down the wall. let us show them the secret roads across the bogs.' do _i_ want that? no!" he spat like an adder. "i would keep the secrets of my people though i were burned alive. my two children here have spoken truth. leave us picts alone. comfort us, and cherish us, and feed us from far off--with the hand behind the back. parnesius understands us. let _him_ have rule on the wall, and i will hold my young men quiet for"--he ticked it off on his fingers--"one year easily: the next year not so easily: the third year, perhaps! see, i give you three years. if then you do not show us that rome is strong in men and terrible in arms, the winged hats, i tell you, will sweep down the wall from either sea till they meet in the middle, and you will go. _i_ shall not grieve over that, but well i know tribe never helps tribe except for one price. we picts will go too. the winged hats will grind us to this!" he tossed a handful of dust in the air. '"oh, roma dea!" said maximus, half aloud. "it is always one man's work--always and everywhere!" "and one man's life," said allo. "you are emperor, but not a god. you may die." '"i have thought of that too," said he. "very good. if this wind holds, i shall be at the east end of the wall by morning. to-morrow, then, i shall see you two when i inspect, and i will make you captains of the wall for this work." '"one instant, cæsar," said pertinax. "all men have their price. i am not bought yet." '"do _you_ also begin to bargain so early?" said maximus. "well?" '"give me justice against my uncle icenus, the duumvir of divio in gaul," he said. '"only a life? i thought it would be money or an office. certainly you shall have him. write his name on these tablets--on the red side; the other is for the living!" and maximus held out his tablets. '"he is of no use to me dead," said pertinax. "my mother is a widow. i am far off. i am not sure he pays her all her dowry." '"no matter. my arm is reasonably long. we will look through your uncle's accounts in due time. now, farewell till to-morrow, o captains of the wall!" 'we saw him grow small across the heather as he walked to the galley. there were picts, scores, each side of him, hidden behind stones. he never looked left or right. he sailed away southerly, full spread before the evening breeze, and when we had watched him out to sea, we were silent. we understood that earth bred few men like to this man. 'presently allo brought the ponies and held them for us to mount--a thing he had never done before. '"wait awhile," said pertinax, and he made a little altar of cut turf, and strewed heather-bloom atop, and laid upon it a letter from a girl in gaul. '"what do you do, o my friend?" i said. '"i sacrifice to my dead youth," he answered, and, when the flames had consumed the letter, he ground them out with his heel. then we rode back to that wall of which we were to be captains.' parnesius stopped. the children sat still, not even asking if that were all the tale. puck beckoned, and pointed the way out of the wood. 'sorry,' he whispered, 'but you must go now.' 'we haven't made him angry, have we?' said una. 'he looks so far off, and--and--thinky.' 'bless your heart, no. wait till tomorrow. it won't be long. remember, you've been playing _lays of ancient rome_.' and as soon as they had scrambled through their gap where oak, ash, and thorn grew, that was all they remembered. a song to mithras mithras, god of the morning, our trumpets waken the wall! 'rome is above the nations, but thou art over all!' now as the names are answered, and the guards are marched away, mithras, also a soldier, give us strength for the day! mithras, god of the noontide, the heather swims in the heat, our helmets scorch our foreheads, our sandals burn our feet. now in the ungirt hour; now ere we blink and drowse, mithras, also a soldier, keep us true to our vows! mithras, god of the sunset, low on the western main, thou descending immortal, immortal to rise again! now when the watch is ended, now when the wine is drawn, mithras, also a soldier, keep us pure till the dawn! mithras, god of the midnight, here where the great bull dies, look on thy children in darkness. oh, take our sacrifice! many roads thou hast fashioned: all of them lead to the light! mithras, also a soldier, teach us to die aright! the winged hats the next day happened to be what they called a wild afternoon. father and mother went out to pay calls; miss blake went for a ride on her bicycle, and they were left all alone till eight o'clock. when they had seen their dear parents and their dear preceptress politely off the premises they got a cabbage-leaf full of raspberries from the gardener, and a wild tea from ellen. they ate the raspberries to prevent their squashing, and they meant to divide the cabbage-leaf with three cows down at the theatre, but they came across a dead hedgehog which they simply _had_ to bury, and the leaf was too useful to waste. then they went on to the forge and found old hobden the hedger at home with his son, the bee boy, who is not quite right in his head, but who can pick up swarms of bees in his naked hands; and the bee boy told them the rhyme about the slow-worm:-- 'if i had eyes _as_ i could see, no mortal man would trouble me.' they all had tea together by the hives, and hobden said the loaf-cake which ellen had given them was almost as good as what his wife used to make, and he showed them how to set a wire at the right height for hares. they knew about rabbits already. then they climbed up long ditch into the lower end of far wood. this is sadder and darker than the volaterrae end because of an old marlpit full of black water, where weepy, hairy moss hangs round the stumps of the willows and alders. but the birds come to perch on the dead branches, and hobden says that the bitter willow-water is a sort of medicine for sick animals. they sat down on a felled oak-trunk in the shadows of the beech undergrowth, and were looping the wires hobden had given them, when they saw parnesius. 'how quietly you came!' said una, moving up to make room. 'where's puck?' 'the faun and i have disputed whether it is better that i should tell you all my tale, or leave it untold,' he replied. 'i only said that if he told it as it happened you wouldn't understand it,' said puck, jumping up like a squirrel from behind the log. 'i don't understand all of it,' said una, 'but i like hearing about the little picts.' 'what i can't understand,' said dan, 'is how maximus knew all about the picts when he was over in gaul.' 'he who makes himself emperor anywhere must know everything, everywhere,' said parnesius. 'we had this much from maximus's mouth after the games.' 'games? what games?' said dan. parnesius stretched his arm out stiffly, thumb pointed to the ground. 'gladiators! _that_ sort of game,' he said. 'there were two days' games in his honour when he landed all unexpected at segedunum on the east end of the wall. yes, the day after we had met him we held two days' games; but i think the greatest risk was run, not by the poor wretches on the sand, but by maximus. in the old days the legions kept silence before their emperor. so did not we! you could hear the solid roar run west along the wall as his chair was carried rocking through the crowds. the garrison beat round him--clamouring, clowning, asking for pay, for change of quarters, for anything that came into their wild heads. that chair was like a little boat among waves, dipping and falling, but always rising again after one had shut the eyes.' parnesius shivered. 'were they angry with him?' said dan. 'no more angry than wolves in a cage when their trainer walks among them. if he had turned his back an instant, or for an instant had ceased to hold their eyes, there would have been another emperor made on the wall that hour. was it not so, faun?' 'so it was. so it always will be,' said puck. 'late in the evening his messenger came for us, and we followed to the temple of victory, where he lodged with rutilianus, the general of the wall. i had hardly seen the general before, but he always gave me leave when i wished to take heather. he was a great glutton, and kept five asian cooks, and he came of a family that believed in oracles. we could smell his good dinner when we entered, but the tables were empty. he lay snorting on a couch. maximus sat apart among long rolls of accounts. then the doors were shut. '"these are your men," said maximus to the general, who propped his eye-corners open with his gouty fingers, and stared at us like a fish. '"i shall know them again, cæsar," said rutilianus. "very good," said maximus. "now hear! you are not to move man or shield on the wall except as these boys shall tell you. you will do nothing, except eat, without their permission. they are the head and arms. you are the belly!" '"as cæsar pleases," the old man grunted. "if my pay and profits are not cut, you may make my ancestors' oracle my master. rome has been! rome has been!" then he turned on his side to sleep. '"he has it," said maximus. "we will get to what _i_ need." 'he unrolled full copies of the number of men and supplies on the wall--down to the sick that very day in hunno hospital. oh, but i groaned when his pen marked off detachment after detachment of our best--of our least worthless men! he took two towers of our scythians, two of our north british auxiliaries, two numidian cohorts, the dacians all, and half the belgians. it was like an eagle pecking a carcass. '"and now, how many catapults have you?" he turned up a new list, but pertinax laid his open hand there. '"no, cæsar," said he. "do not tempt the gods too far. take men, or engines, but not both; else we refuse."' 'engines?' said una. 'the catapults of the wall--huge things forty feet high to the head--firing nets of raw stone or forged bolts. nothing can stand against them. he left us our catapults at last, but he took a cæsar's half of our men without pity. we were a shell when he rolled up the lists! '"hail, cæsar! we, about to die, salute you!" said pertinax, laughing. "if any enemy even leans against the wall now, it will tumble." '"give me the three years allo spoke of," he answered, "and you shall have twenty thousand men of your own choosing up here. but now it is a gamble--a game played against the gods, and the stakes are britain, gaul, and perhaps rome. you play on my side?" '"we will play, cæsar," i said, for i had never met a man like this man. '"good. tomorrow," said he, "i proclaim you captains of the wall before the troops." 'so we went into the moonlight, where they were cleaning the ground after the games. we saw great roma dea atop of the wall, the frost on her helmet, and her spear pointed towards the north star. we saw the twinkle of night-fires all along the guard towers, and the line of the black catapults growing smaller and smaller in the distance. all these things we knew till we were weary; but that night they seemed very strange to us, because the next day we knew we were to be their masters. 'the men took the news well; but when maximus went away with half our strength, and we had to spread ourselves into the emptied towers, and the townspeople complained that trade would be ruined, and the autumn gales blew--it was dark days for us two. here pertinax was more than my right hand. being born and bred among the great country-houses in gaul, he knew the proper words to address to all--from roman-born centurions to those dogs of the third--the libyans. and he spoke to each as though that man were as high-minded as himself. now _i_ saw so strongly what things were needed to be done, that i forgot things are only accomplished by means of men. that was a mistake. 'i feared nothing from the picts, at least for that year, but allo warned me that the winged hats would soon come in from the sea at each end of the wall to prove to the picts how weak we were. so i made ready in haste, and none too soon. i shifted our best men to the ends of the wall, and set up screened catapults by the beach. the winged hats would drive in before the snow-squalls--ten or twenty boats at a time--on segedunum or ituna, according as the wind blew. 'now a ship coming in to land men must furl her sail. if you wait till you see her men gather up the sail's foot, your catapults can jerk a net of loose stones (bolts only cut through the cloth) into the bag of it. then she turns over, and the sea makes everything clean again. a few men may come ashore, but very few. ... it was not hard work, except the waiting on the beach in blowing sand and snow. and that was how we dealt with the winged hats that winter. 'early in the spring, when the east winds blow like skinning-knives, they gathered again off segedunum with many ships. allo told me they would never rest till they had taken a tower in open fight. certainly they fought in the open. we dealt with them thoroughly through a long day: and when all was finished, one man dived clear of the wreckage of his ship, and swam towards shore. i waited, and a wave tumbled him at my feet. 'as i stooped, i saw he wore such a medal as i wear.' parnesius raised his hand to his neck. 'therefore, when he could speak, i addressed him a certain question which can only be answered in a certain manner. he answered with the necessary word--the word that belongs to the degree of gryphons in the science of mithras my god. i put my shield over him till he could stand up. you see i am not short, but he was a head taller than i. he said: "what now?" i said: "at your pleasure, my brother, to stay or go." 'he looked out across the surf. there remained one ship unhurt, beyond range of our catapults. i checked the catapults and he waved her in. she came as a hound comes to a master. when she was yet a hundred paces from the beach, he flung back his hair, and swam out. they hauled him in, and went away. i knew that those who worship mithras are many and of all races, so i did not think much more upon the matter. 'a month later i saw allo with his horses--by the temple of pan, o faun--and he gave me a great necklace of gold studded with coral. 'at first i thought it was a bribe from some tradesman in the town--meant for old rutilianus. "nay," said allo. "this is a gift from amal, that winged hat whom you saved on the beach. he says you are a man." '"he is a man, too. tell him i can wear his gift," i answered. '"oh, amal is a young fool; but, speaking as sensible men, your emperor is doing such great things in gaul that the winged hats are anxious to be his friends, or, better still, the friends of his servants. they think you and pertinax could lead them to victories." allo looked at me like a one-eyed raven. '"allo," i said, "you are the corn between the two millstones. be content if they grind evenly, and don't thrust your hand between them." '"i?" said allo. "i hate rome and the winged hats equally; but if the winged hats thought that some day you and pertinax might join them against maximus, they would leave you in peace while you considered. time is what we need--you and i and maximus. let me carry a pleasant message back to the winged hats--something for them to make a council over. we barbarians are all alike. we sit up half the night to discuss anything a roman says. eh?" '"we have no men. we must fight with words," said pertinax. "leave it to allo and me." 'so allo carried word back to the winged hats that we would not fight them if they did not fight us; and they (i think they were a little tired of losing men in the sea) agreed to a sort of truce. i believe allo, who being a horse-dealer loved lies, also told them we might some day rise against maximus as maximus had risen against rome. 'indeed, they permitted the corn-ships which i sent to the picts to pass north that season without harm. therefore the picts were well fed that winter, and since they were in some sort my children, i was glad of it. we had only two thousand men on the wall, and i wrote many times to maximus and begged--prayed--him to send me only one cohort of my old north british troops. he could not spare them. he needed them to win more victories in gaul. 'then came news that he had defeated and slain the emperor gratian, and thinking he must now be secure, i wrote again for men. he answered: "you will learn that i have at last settled accounts with the pup gratian. there was no need that he should have died, but he became confused and lost his head, which is a bad thing to befall any emperor. tell your father i am content to drive two mules only; for unless my old general's son thinks himself destined to destroy me, i shall rest emperor of gaul and britain, and then you, my two children, will presently get all the men you need. just now i can spare none."' 'what did he mean by his general's son?' said dan. 'he meant theodosius emperor of rome, who was the son of theodosius the general under whom maximus had fought in the old pict war. the two men never loved each other, and when gratian made the younger theodosius emperor of the east (at least, so i've heard), maximus carried on the war to the second generation. it was his fate, and it was his fall. but theodosius the emperor is a good man. as i know.' parnesius was silent for a moment and then continued. 'i wrote back to maximus that, though we had peace on the wall, i should be happier with a few more men and some new catapults. he answered: "you must live a little longer under the shadow of my victories, till i can see what young theodosius intends. he may welcome me as a brother-emperor, or he may be preparing an army. in either case i cannot spare men just now." 'but he was always saying that,' cried una. 'it was true. he did not make excuses; but thanks, as he said, to the news of his victories, we had no trouble on the wall for a long, long time. the picts grew fat as their own sheep among the heather, and as many of my men as lived were well exercised in their weapons. yes, the wall looked strong. for myself, i knew how weak we were. i knew that if even a false rumour of any defeat to maximus broke loose among the winged hats, they might come down in earnest, and then--the wall must go! for the picts i never cared, but in those years i learned something of the strength of the winged hats. they increased their strength every day, but i could not increase my men. maximus had emptied britain behind us, and i felt myself to be a man with a rotten stick standing before a broken fence to turn bulls. 'thus, my friends, we lived on the wall, waiting--waiting--waiting for the men that maximus never sent. 'presently he wrote that he was preparing an army against theodosius. he wrote--and pertinax read it over my shoulder in our quarters: "_tell your father that my destiny orders me to drive three mules or be torn in pieces by them. i hope within a year to finish with theodosius, son of theodosius, once and for all. then you shall have britain to rule, and pertinax, if he chooses, gaul. to-day i wish strongly you were with me to beat my auxiliaries into shape. do not, i pray you, believe any rumour of my sickness. i have a little evil in my old body which i shall cure by riding swiftly into rome._" 'said pertinax: "it is finished with maximus. he writes as a man without hope. i, a man without hope, can see this. what does he add at the bottom of the roll? '_tell pertinax i have met his late uncle, the duumvir of divio, and that he accounted to me quite truthfully for all his mother's monies. i have sent her with a fitting escort, for she is the mother of a hero, to nicaea, where the climate is warm_.' '"that is proof," said pertinax. "nicaea is not far by sea from rome. a woman there could take ship and fly to rome in time of war. yes, maximus foresees his death, and is fulfilling his promises one by one. but i am glad my uncle met him."' '"you think blackly to-day?" i asked. '"i think truth. the gods weary of the play we have played against them. theodosius will destroy maximus. it is finished!" '"will you write him that?" i said. '"see what i shall write," he answered, and he took pen and wrote a letter cheerful as the light of day, tender as a woman's and full of jests. even i, reading over his shoulder, took comfort from it till--i saw his face! '"and now," he said, sealing it, "we be two dead men, my brother. let us go to the temple." 'we prayed awhile to mithras, where we had many times prayed before. after that, we lived day by day among evil rumours till winter came again. 'it happened one morning that we rode to the east shore, and found on the beach a fair-haired man, half frozen, bound to some broken planks. turning him over, we saw by his belt-buckle that he was a goth of an eastern legion. suddenly he opened his eyes and cried loudly, "he is dead! the letters were with me, but the winged hats sank the ship." so saying, he died between our hands. 'we asked not who was dead. we knew! we raced before the driving snow to hunno, thinking perhaps allo might be there. we found him already at our stables, and he saw by our faces what we had heard. '"it was in a tent by the sea," he stammered. "he was beheaded by theodosius. he sent a letter to you, written while he waited to be slain. the winged hats met the ship and took it. the news is running through the heather like fire. blame me not! i cannot hold back my young men any more." '"i would we could say as much for our men," said pertinax, laughing. "but, gods be praised, they cannot run away." '"what do you do?" said allo. "i bring an order--a message--from the winged hats that you join them with your men, and march south to plunder britain." '"it grieves me," said pertinax, "but we are stationed here to stop that thing." '"if i carry back such an answer they will kill me," said allo. "i always promised the winged hats that you would rise when maximus fell. i--i did not think he could fall." '"alas! my poor barbarian," said pertinax, still laughing. "well, you have sold us too many good ponies to be thrown back to your friends. we will make you a prisoner, although you are an ambassador." '"yes, that will be best," said allo, holding out a halter. we bound him lightly, for he was an old man. '"presently the winged hats may come to look for you, and that will give us more time. see how the habit of playing for time sticks to a man!" said pertinax, as he tied the rope. '"no," i said. "time may help. if maximus wrote us a letter while he was a prisoner, theodosius must have sent the ship that brought it. if he can send ships, he can send men." '"how will that profit us?" said pertinax. "we serve maximus, not theodosius. even if by some miracle of the gods theodosius down south sent and saved the wall, we could not expect more than the death maximus died." '"it concerns us to defend the wall, no matter what emperor dies, or makes die," i said. '"that is worthy of your brother the philosopher," said pertinax. "myself i am without hope, so i do not say solemn and stupid things! rouse the wall!" 'we armed the wall from end to end; we told the officers that there was a rumour of maximus's death which might bring down the winged hats, but we were sure, even if it were true, that theodosius, for the sake of britain, would send us help. therefore, we must stand fast. ... my friends, it is above all things strange to see how men bear ill news! often the strongest till then become the weakest, while the weakest, as it were, reach up and steal strength from the gods. so it was with us. yet my pertinax by his jests and his courtesy and his labours had put heart and training into our poor numbers during the past years--more than i should have thought possible. even our libyan cohort--the third--stood up in their padded cuirasses and did not whimper. 'in three days came seven chiefs and elders of the winged hats. among them was that tall young man, amal, whom i had met on the beach, and he smiled when he saw my necklace. we made them welcome, for they were ambassadors. we showed them allo, alive but bound. they thought we had killed him, and i saw it would not have vexed them if we had. allo saw it too, and it vexed him. then in our quarters at hunno we came to council. 'they said that rome was falling, and that we must join them. they offered me all south britain to govern after they had taken a tribute out of it. 'i answered, "patience. this wall is not weighed off like plunder. give me proof that my general is dead." '"nay," said one elder, "prove to us that he lives"; and another said cunningly, "what will you give us if we read you his last words?" '"we are not merchants to bargain," cried amal. "moreover, i owe this man my life. he shall have his proof." he threw across to me a letter (well i knew the seal) from maximus. '"we took this out of the ship we sank," he cried. "i cannot read, but i know one sign, at least, which makes me believe." he showed me a dark stain on the outer roll that my heavy heart perceived was the valiant blood of maximus. '"read!" said amal. "read, and then let us hear whose servants you are!" 'said pertinax, very softly, after he had looked through it: "i will read it all. listen, barbarians!" he read that which i have carried next my heart ever since.' parnesius drew from his neck a folded and spotted piece of parchment, and began in a hushed voice:-- '"_to parnesius and pertinax, the not unworthy captains of the wall, from maximus, once emperor of gaul and britain, now prisoner waiting death by the sea in the camp of theodosius--greeting and good-bye!_" '"enough," said young amal; "there is your proof! you must join us now!" 'pertinax looked long and silently at him, till that fair man blushed like a girl. then read pertinax:-- '"_i have joyfully done much evil in my life to those who have wished me evil, but if ever i did any evil to you two i repent, and i ask your forgiveness. the three mules which i strove to drive have torn me in pieces as your father prophesied. the naked swords wait at the tent door to give me the death i gave to gratian. therefore i, your general and your emperor, send you free and honourable dismissal from my service, which you entered, not for money or office, but, as it makes me warm to believe, because you loved me!_" '"by the light of the sun," amal broke in. "this was in some sort a man! we may have been mistaken in his servants!" 'and pertinax read on: "_you gave me the time for which i asked. if i have failed to use it, do not lament. we have gambled very splendidly against the gods, but they hold weighted dice, and i must pay the forfeit. remember, i have been; but rome is; and rome will be. tell pertinax his mother is in safety at nicaea, and her monies are in charge of the prefect at antipolis. make my remembrances to your father and to your mother, whose friendship was great gain to me. give also to my little picts and to the winged hats such messages as their thick heads can understand. i would have sent you three legions this very day if all had gone aright. do not forget me. we have worked together. farewell! farewell! farewell!_" 'now, that was my emperor's last letter.' (the children heard the parchment crackle as parnesius returned it to its place.) '"i was mistaken," said amal. "the servants of such a man will sell nothing except over the sword. i am glad of it." he held out his hand to me. '"but maximus has given you your dismissal," said an elder. "you are certainly free to serve--or to rule--whom you please. join--do not follow--join us!" '"we thank you," said pertinax. "but maximus tells us to give you such messages as--pardon me, but i use his words--your thick heads can understand." he pointed through the door to the foot of a catapult wound up. '"we understand," said an elder. "the wall must be won at a price?" '"it grieves me," said pertinax, laughing, "but so it must be won," and he gave them of our best southern wine. 'they drank, and wiped their yellow beards in silence till they rose to go. 'said amal, stretching himself (for they were barbarians): "we be a goodly company; i wonder what the ravens and the dogfish will make of some of us before this snow melts." '"think rather what theodosius may send," i answered; and though they laughed, i saw that my chance shot troubled them. 'only old allo lingered behind a little. '"you see," he said, winking and blinking, "i am no more than their dog. when i have shown their men the secret short ways across our bogs, they will kick me like one." '"then i should not be in haste to show them those ways," said pertinax, "till i was sure that rome could not save the wall." '"you think so? woe is me!" said the old man. "i only wanted peace for my people," and he went out stumbling through the snow behind the tall winged hats. 'in this fashion then, slowly, a day at a time, which is very bad for doubting troops, the war came upon us. at first the winged hats swept in from the sea as they had done before, and there we met them as before--with the catapults; and they sickened of it. yet for a long time they would not trust their duck-legs on land, and i think, when it came to revealing the secrets of the tribe, the little picts were afraid or ashamed to show them all the roads across the heather. i had this from a pict prisoner. they were as much our spies as our enemies, for the winged hats oppressed them, and took their winter stores. ah, foolish little people! 'then the winged hats began to roll us up from each end of the wall. i sent runners southward to see what the news might be in britain, but the wolves were very bold that winter, among the deserted stations where the troops had once been, and none came back. we had trouble, too, with the forage for the ponies along the wall. i kept ten, and so did pertinax. we lived and slept in the saddle, riding east or west, and we ate our worn-out ponies. the people of the town also made us some trouble till i gathered them all in one quarter behind hunno. we broke down the wall on either side of it to make as it were a citadel. our men fought better in close order. 'by the end of the second month we were deep in the war as a man is deep in a snowdrift, or in a dream. i think we fought in our sleep. at least i know i have gone on the wall and come off again, remembering nothing between, though my throat was harsh with giving orders, and my sword, i could see, had been used. 'the winged hats fought like wolves--all in a pack. where they had suffered most, there they charged in most hotly. this was hard for the defenders, but it held them from sweeping on into britain. 'in those days pertinax and i wrote on the plaster of the bricked archway into valentia the names of the towers, and the days on which they fell one by one. we wished for some record. 'and the fighting? the fight was always hottest to left and right of the great statue of roma dea, near to rutilianus's house. by the light of the sun, that old fat man, whom we had not considered at all, grew young again among the trumpets! i remember he said his sword was an oracle! "let us consult the oracle," he would say, and put the handle against his ear, and shake his head wisely. "and _this_ day is allowed rutilianus to live," he would say, and, tucking up his cloak, he would puff and pant and fight well. oh, there were jests in plenty on the wall to take the place of food! 'we endured for two months and seventeen days--always being pressed from three sides into a smaller space. several times allo sent in word that help was at hand. we did not believe it, but it cheered our men. 'the end came not with shoutings of joy, but, like the rest, as in a dream. the winged hats suddenly left us in peace for one night and the next day; which is too long for spent men. we slept at first lightly, expecting to be roused, and then like logs, each where he lay. may you never need such sleep! when i waked our towers were full of strange, armed men, who watched us snoring. i roused pertinax, and we leaped up together. '"what?" said a young man in clean armour. "do you fight against theodosius? look!" 'north we looked over the red snow. no winged hats were there. south we looked over the white snow, and behold there were the eagles of two strong legions encamped. east and west we saw flame and fighting, but by hunno all was still. '"trouble no more," said the young man. "rome's arm is long. where are the captains of the wall?" 'we said we were those men. '"but you are old and grey-haired," he cried. "maximus said that they were boys." '"yes, that was true some years ago," said pertinax. "what is our fate to be, you fine and well-fed child?" '"i am called ambrosius, a secretary of the emperor," he answered. "show me a certain letter which maximus wrote from a tent at aquileia, and perhaps i will believe." 'i took it from my breast, and when he had read it he saluted us, saying: "your fate is in your own hands. if you choose to serve theodosius, he will give you a legion. if it suits you to go to your homes, we will give you a triumph." '"i would like better a bath, wine, food, razors, soaps, oils, and scents," said pertinax, laughing. '"oh, i see you are a boy," said ambrosius. "and you?" turning to me. '"we bear no ill-will against theodosius, but in war----" i began. '"in war it is as it is in love," said pertinax. "whether she be good or bad, one gives one's best once, to one only. that given, there remains no second worth giving or taking." '"that is true," said ambrosius. "i was with maximus before he died. he warned theodosius that you would never serve him, and frankly i say i am sorry for my emperor." '"he has rome to console him," said pertinax. "i ask you of your kindness to let us go to our homes and get this smell out of our nostrils." 'none the less they gave us a triumph!' 'it was well earned,' said puck, throwing some leaves into the still water of the marlpit. the black, oily circles spread dizzily as the children watched them. 'i want to know, oh, ever so many things,' said dan. 'what happened to old allo? did the winged hats ever come back? and what did amal do?' 'and what happened to the fat old general with the five cooks?' said una. 'and what did your mother say when you came home? ...' 'she'd say you're settin' too long over this old pit, so late as 'tis already,' said old hobden's voice behind them. 'hst!' he whispered. he stood still, for not twenty paces away a magnificent dog-fox sat on his haunches and looked at the children as though he were an old friend of theirs. 'oh, mus' reynolds, mus' reynolds!' said hobden, under his breath. 'if i knowed all was inside your head, i'd know something wuth knowin'. mus' dan an' miss una, come along o' me while i lock up my liddle hen-house.' a pict song rome never looks where she treads, always her heavy hooves fall on our stomachs, our hearts or our heads; and rome never heeds when we bawl. her sentries pass on--that is all, and we gather behind them in hordes, and plot to reconquer the wall, with only our tongues for our swords. we are the little folk--we! too little to love or to hate. leave us alone and you'll see how we can drag down the great! we are the worm in the wood! we are the rot at the root! we are the germ in the blood! we are the thorn in the foot! mistletoe killing an oak-- rats gnawing cables in two-- moths making holes in a cloak-- how they must love what they do! yes--and we little folk too, we are as busy as they-- working our works out of view-- watch, and you'll see it some day! no indeed! we are not strong, but we know peoples that are. yes, and we'll guide them along, to smash and destroy you in war! we shall be slaves just the same? yes, we have always been slaves, but you--you will die of the shame, and then we shall dance on your graves! we are the little folk, we, etc. hal o' the draft prophets have honour all over the earth, except in the village where they were born, where such as knew them boys from birth nature-ally hold 'em in scorn. when prophets are naughty and young and vain, they make a won'erful grievance of it; (you can see by their writings how they complain), but oh, 'tis won'erful good for the prophet! there's nothing nineveh town can give (nor being swallowed by whales between), makes up for the place where a man's folk live, that don't care nothing what he has been. he might ha' been that, or he might ha' been this, but they love and they hate him for what he is. a rainy afternoon drove dan and una over to play pirates in the little mill. if you don't mind rats on the rafters and oats in your shoes, the mill-attic, with its trap-doors and inscriptions on beams about floods and sweethearts, is a splendid place. it is lighted by a foot-square window, called duck window, that looks across to little lindens farm, and the spot where jack cade was killed. when they had climbed the attic ladder (they called it 'the mainmast tree', out of the ballad of sir andrew barton, and dan 'swarved it with might and main', as the ballad says) they saw a man sitting on duck window-sill. he was dressed in a plum-coloured doublet and tight plum-coloured hose, and he drew busily in a red-edged book. 'sit ye! sit ye!' puck cried from a rafter overhead. 'see what it is to be beautiful! sir harry dawe--pardon, hal--says i am the very image of a head for a gargoyle.' the man laughed and raised his dark velvet cap to the children, and his grizzled hair bristled out in a stormy fringe. he was old--forty at least--but his eyes were young, with funny little wrinkles all round them. a satchel of embroidered leather hung from his broad belt, which looked interesting. 'may we see?' said una, coming forward. 'surely--sure-ly!' he said, moving up on the window-seat, and returned to his work with a silver-pointed pencil. puck sat as though the grin were fixed for ever on his broad face, while they watched the quick, certain fingers that copied it. presently the man took a reed pen from his satchel, and trimmed it with a little ivory knife, carved in the semblance of a fish. 'oh, what a beauty!' cried dan. ''ware fingers! that blade is perilous sharp. i made it myself of the best low country cross-bow steel. and so, too, this fish. when his back-fin travels to his tail--so--he swallows up the blade, even as the whale swallowed gaffer jonah ... yes, and that's my ink-horn. i made the four silver saints round it. press barnabas's head. it opens, and then----' he dipped the trimmed pen, and with careful boldness began to put in the essential lines of puck's rugged face, that had been but faintly revealed by the silver-point. the children gasped, for it fairly leaped from the page. as he worked, and the rain fell on the tiles, he talked--now clearly, now muttering, now breaking off to frown or smile at his work. he told them he was born at little lindens farm, and his father used to beat him for drawing things instead of doing things, till an old priest called father roger, who drew illuminated letters in rich people's books, coaxed the parents to let him take the boy as a sort of painter's apprentice. then he went with father roger to oxford, where he cleaned plates and carried cloaks and shoes for the scholars of a college called merton. 'didn't you hate that?' said dan after a great many other questions. 'i never thought on't. half oxford was building new colleges or beautifying the old, and she had called to her aid the master-craftsmen of all christendie--kings in their trade and honoured of kings. i knew them. i worked for them: that was enough. no wonder----' he stopped and laughed. 'you became a great man, hal,' said puck. 'they said so, robin. even bramante said so.' 'why? what did you do?' dan asked. the artist looked at him queerly. 'things in stone and such, up and down england. you would not have heard of 'em. to come nearer home, i rebuilded this little st barnabas' church of ours. it cost me more trouble and sorrow than aught i've touched in my life. but 'twas a sound lesson.' 'um,' said dan. 'we've had lessons this morning.' 'i'll not afflict ye, lad,' said hal, while puck roared. 'only 'tis strange to think how that little church was rebuilt, re-roofed, and made glorious, thanks to some few godly sussex iron-masters, a bristow sailor lad, a proud ass called hal o' the draft because, d'you see, he was always drawing and drafting; and'--he dragged the words slowly--'_and_ a scotch pirate.' 'pirate?' said dan. he wriggled like a hooked fish. 'even that andrew barton you were singing of on the stair just now.' he dipped again in the ink-well, and held his breath over a sweeping line, as though he had forgotten everything else. 'pirates don't build churches, do they?' said dan. 'or _do_ they?' 'they help mightily,' hal laughed. 'but you were at your lessons this morn, jack scholar.' 'oh, pirates aren't lessons. it was only bruce and his silly old spider,' said una. 'why did sir andrew barton help you?' 'i question if he ever knew it,' said hal, twinkling. 'robin, how a' mischief's name am i to tell these innocents what comes of sinful pride?' 'oh, we know all about _that_,' said una pertly. 'if you get too beany--that's cheeky--you get sat upon, of course.' hal considered a moment, pen in air, and puck said some long words. 'aha! that was my case too,' he cried. 'beany--you say--but certainly i did not conduct myself well. i was proud of--of such things as porches--a galilee porch at lincoln for choice--proud of one torrigiano's arm on my shoulder, proud of my knighthood when i made the gilt scroll-work for the _sovereign_--our king's ship. but father roger sitting in merton library, he did not forget me. at the top of my pride, when i and no other should have builded the porch at lincoln, he laid it on me with a terrible forefinger to go back to my sussex clays and rebuild, at my own charges, my own church, where us dawes have been buried for six generations. "out! son of my art!" said he. "fight the devil at home ere you call yourself a man and a craftsman." and i quaked, and i went ... how's yon, robin?' he flourished the finished sketch before puck. 'me! me past peradventure,' said puck, smirking like a man at a mirror. 'ah, see! the rain has took off! i hate housen in daylight.' 'whoop! holiday!' cried hal, leaping up. 'who's for my little lindens? we can talk there.' they tumbled downstairs, and turned past the dripping willows by the sunny mill-dam. 'body o' me,' said hal, staring at the hop-garden, where the hops were just ready to blossom. 'what are these? vines? no, not vines, and they twine the wrong way to beans.' he began to draw in his ready book. 'hops. new since your day,' said puck. 'they're an herb of mars, and their flowers dried flavour ale. we say-- 'turkeys, heresy, hops, and beer came into england all in one year.' 'heresy i know. i've seen hops--god be praised for their beauty! what is your turkis?' the children laughed. they knew the lindens turkeys, and as soon as they reached lindens orchard on the hill the full flock charged at them. out came hal's book at once. 'hoity-toity!' he cried. 'here's pride in purple feathers! here's wrathy contempt and the pomps of the flesh! how d'you call _them_?' 'turkeys! turkeys!' the children shouted, as the old gobbler raved and flamed against hal's plum-coloured hose. ''save your magnificence!' he said. 'i've drafted two good new things today.' and he doffed his cap to the bubbling bird. then they walked through the grass to the knoll where little lindens stands. the old farmhouse, weather-tiled to the ground, took almost the colour of a blood-ruby in the afternoon light. the pigeons pecked at the mortar in the chimney-stacks; the bees that had lived under the tiles since it was built filled the hot august air with their booming; and the smell of the box-tree by the dairy-window mixed with the smell of earth after rain, bread after baking, and a tickle of wood-smoke. the farmer's wife came to the door, baby on arm, shaded her brows against the sun, stooped to pluck a sprig of rosemary, and turned down the orchard. the old spaniel in his barrel barked once or twice to show he was in charge of the empty house. puck clicked back the garden-gate. 'd'you marvel that i love it?' said hal, in a whisper. 'what can town folk know of the nature of housen--or land?' they perched themselves arow on the old hacked oak bench in lindens garden, looking across the valley of the brook at the fern-covered dimples and hollows of the forge behind hobden's cottage. the old man was cutting a faggot in his garden by the hives. it was quite a second after his chopper fell that the chump of the blow reached their lazy ears. 'eh--yeh!' said hal. 'i mind when where that old gaffer stands was nether forge--master john collins's foundry. many a night has his big trip-hammer shook me in my bed here. _boom-bitty! boom-bitty!_ if the wind was east, i could hear master tom collins's forge at stockens answering his brother, _boom-oop! boom-oop!_ and midway between, sir john pelham's sledge-hammers at brightling would strike in like a pack o' scholars, and "_hic-haec-hoc_" they'd say, "_hic-haec-hoc_," till i fell asleep. yes. the valley was as full o' forges and fineries as a may shaw o' cuckoos. all gone to grass now!' 'what did they make?' said dan. 'guns for the king's ships--and for others. serpentines and cannon mostly. when the guns were cast, down would come the king's officers, and take our plough-oxen to haul them to the coast. look! here's one of the first and finest craftsmen of the sea!' he fluttered back a page of his book, and showed them a young man's head. underneath was written: 'sebastianus.' 'he came down with a king's order on master john collins for twenty serpentines (wicked little cannon they be!) to furnish a venture of ships. i drafted him thus sitting by our fire telling mother of the new lands he'd find the far side the world. and he found them, too! there's a nose to cleave through unknown seas! cabot was his name--a bristol lad--half a foreigner. i set a heap by him. he helped me to my church-building.' 'i thought that was sir andrew barton,' said dan. 'ay, but foundations before roofs,' hal answered. 'sebastian first put me in the way of it. i had come down here, not to serve god as a craftsman should, but to show my people how great a craftsman i was. they cared not, and it served me right, one split straw for my craft or my greatness. what a murrain call had i, they said, to mell with old st barnabas'? ruinous the church had been since the black death, and ruinous she would remain; and i could hang myself in my new scaffold-ropes! gentle and simple, high and low--the hayes, the fowles, the fenners, the collinses--they were all in a tale against me. only sir john pelham up yonder at brightling bade me heart-up and go on. yet how could i? did i ask master collins for his timber-tug to haul beams? the oxen had gone to lewes after lime. did he promise me a set of iron cramps or ties for the roof? they never came to hand, or else they were spaulty or cracked. so with everything. nothing said, but naught done except i stood by them, and then done amiss. i thought the countryside was fair bewitched.' 'it was, sure-ly,' said puck, knees under chin. 'did you never suspect ary one?' 'not till sebastian came for his guns, and john collins played him the same dog's tricks as he'd played me with my ironwork. week in, week out, two of three serpentines would be flawed in the casting, and only fit, they said, to be re-melted. then john collins would shake his head, and vow he could pass no cannon for the king's service that were not perfect. saints! how sebastian stormed! _i_ know, for we sat on this bench sharing our sorrows inter-common. 'when sebastian had fumed away six weeks at lindens and gotten just six serpentines, dirk brenzett, master of the _cygnet_ hoy, sends me word that the block of stone he was fetching me from france for our new font he'd hove overboard to lighten his ship, chased by andrew barton up to rye port.' 'ah! the pirate!' said dan. 'yes. and while i am tearing my hair over this, ticehurst will, my best mason, comes to me shaking, and vowing that the devil, horned, tailed, and chained, has run out on him from the church-tower, and the men would work there no more. so i took 'em off the foundations, which we were strengthening, and went into the bell tavern for a cup of ale. says master john collins: "have it your own way, lad; but if i was you, i'd take the sinnification o' the sign, and leave old barnabas' church alone!" and they all wagged their sinful heads, and agreed. less afraid of the devil than of me--as i saw later. 'when i brought my sweet news to lindens, sebastian was limewashing the kitchen-beams for mother. he loved her like a son. '"cheer up, lad," he says. "god's where he was. only you and i chance to be pure pute asses. we've been tricked, hal, and more shame to me, a sailor, that i did not guess it before! you must leave your belfry alone, forsooth, because the devil is adrift there; and i cannot get my serpentines because john collins cannot cast them aright. meantime andrew barton hawks off the port of rye. and why? to take those very serpentines which poor cabot must whistle for; the said serpentines, i'll wager my share of new continents, being now hid away in st barnabas' church-tower. clear as the irish coast at noonday!" "they'd sure never dare to do it," i said; "and, for another thing, selling cannon to the king's enemies is black treason--hanging and fine." '"it is sure, large profit. men'll dare any gallows for that. i have been a trader myself," says he. "we must be upsides with 'em for the honour of bristol." 'then he hatched a plot, sitting on the limewash bucket. we gave out to ride o' tuesday to london and made a show of taking farewells of our friends--especially of master john collins. but at wadhurst woods we turned; rode home to the watermeadows; hid our horses in a willow-tot at the foot of the glebe, and, come night, stole a-tiptoe up hill to barnabas' church again. a thick mist, and a moon striking through. 'i had no sooner locked the tower-door behind us than over goes sebastian full length in the dark. '"pest!" he says. "step high and feel low, hal. i've stumbled over guns before." 'i groped, and one by one--the tower was pitchy dark--i counted the lither barrels of twenty serpentines laid out on pease straw. no conceal at all! '"there's two demi-cannon my end," says sebastian, slapping metal. "they'll be for andrew barton's lower deck. honest--honest john collins! so this is his warehouse, his arsenal, his armoury! now see you why your pokings and pryings have raised the devil in sussex? you've hindered john's lawful trade for months," and he laughed where he lay. 'a clay-cold tower is no fireside at midnight, so we climbed the belfry stairs, and there sebastian trips over a cow-hide with its horns and tail. '"aha! your devil has left his doublet! does it become me, hal?" he draws it on and capers in the shafts of window-moonlight--won'erful devilish-like. then he sits on the stairs, rapping with his tail on a board, and his back-aspect was dreader than his front, and a howlet lit in, and screeched at the horns of him. '"if you'd keep out the devil, shut the door," he whispered. "and that's another false proverb, hal, for i can hear your tower-door opening." '"i locked it. who a-plague has another key, then?" i said. '"all the congregation, to judge by their feet," he says, and peers into the blackness. "still! still, hal! hear 'em grunt! that's more o' my serpentines, i'll be bound. one--two--three--four they bear in! faith, andrew equips himself like an admiral! twenty-four serpentines in all!" 'as if it had been an echo, we heard john collins's voice come up all hollow: "twenty-four serpentines and two demi-cannon. that's the full tally for sir andrew barton." '"courtesy costs naught," whispers sebastian. "shall i drop my dagger on his head?" '"they go over to rye o' thursday in the wool-wains, hid under the wool-packs. dirk brenzett meets them at udimore, as before," says john. '"lord! what a worn, handsmooth trade it is!" says sebastian. "i lay we are the sole two babes in the village that have not our lawful share in the venture." 'there was a full score folk below, talking like all robertsbridge market. we counted them by voice. 'master john collins pipes: "the guns for the french carrack must lie here next month. will, when does your young fool" (me, so please you!) "come back from lunnon?" '"no odds," i heard ticehurst will answer. "lay 'em just where you've a mind, mus' collins. we're all too afraid o' the devil to mell with the tower now." and the long knave laughed. '"ah! 'tis easy enow for you to raise the devil, will," says another--ralph hobden of the forge. '"aaa-men!" roars sebastian, and ere i could hold him, he leaps down the stairs--won'erful devilish-like howling no bounds. he had scarce time to lay out for the nearest than they ran. saints, how they ran! we heard them pound on the door of the bell tavern, and then we ran too. '"what's next?" says sebastian, looping up his cow-tail as he leaped the briars. "i've broke honest john's face." '"ride to sir john pelham's," i said. "he is the only one that ever stood by me." 'we rode to brightling, and past sir john's lodges, where the keepers would have shot at us for deer-stealers, and we had sir john down into his justice's chair, and when we had told him our tale and showed him the cow-hide which sebastian wore still girt about him, he laughed till the tears ran. '"wel-a-well!" he says. "i'll see justice done before daylight. what's your complaint? master collins is my old friend." '"he's none of mine," i cried. "when i think how he and his likes have baulked and dozened and cozened me at every turn over the church"----and i choked at the thought. '"ah, but ye see now they needed it for another use," says he smoothly. '"so they did my serpentines," sebastian cries. "i should be half across the western ocean by now if my guns had been ready. but they're sold to a scotch pirate by your old friend--" '"where's your proof?" says sir john, stroking his beard. '"i broke my shins over them not an hour since, and i heard john give order where they were to be taken," says sebastian. '"words! words only," says sir john. "master collins is somewhat of a liar at best." 'he carried it so gravely that, for the moment, i thought he was dipped in this secret traffick too, and that there was not an honest ironmaster in sussex. '"name o' reason!" says sebastian, and raps with his cow-tail on the table, "whose guns are they, then?" '"yours, manifestly," says sir john. "you come with the king's order for 'em, and master collins casts them in his foundry. if he chooses to bring them up from nether forge and lay 'em out in the church-tower, why, they are e'en so much the nearer to the main road and you are saved a day's hauling. what a coil to make of a mere act of neighbourly kindness, lad!" '"i fear i have requited him very scurvily," says sebastian, looking at his knuckles. "but what of the demi-cannon? i could do with 'em well, but they are not in the king's order." '"kindness--loving-kindness," says sir john. "questionless, in his zeal for the king and his love for you, john adds those two cannon as a gift. 'tis plain as this coming daylight, ye stockfish!" '"so it is," says sebastian. "oh, sir john, sir john, why did you never use the sea? you are lost ashore." and he looked on him with great love. '"i do my best in my station." sir john strokes his beard again and rolls forth his deep drumming justice's voice thus: "but--suffer me!--you two lads, on some midnight frolic into which i probe not, roystering around the taverns, surprise master collins at his"--he thinks a moment--"at his good deeds done by stealth. ye surprise him, i say, cruelly." '"truth, sir john. if you had seen him run!" says sebastian. '"on this you ride breakneck to me with a tale of pirates, and wool-wains, and cow-hides, which, though it hath moved my mirth as a man, offendeth my reason as a magistrate. so i will e'en accompany you back to the tower with, perhaps, some few of my own people, and three-four wagons, and i'll be your warrant that master john collins will freely give you your guns and your demi-cannon, master sebastian." he breaks into his proper voice--"i warned the old tod and his neighbours long ago that they'd come to trouble with their side-sellings and bye-dealings; but we cannot have half sussex hanged for a little gun-running. are ye content, lads?" '"i'd commit any treason for two demi-cannon," said sebastian, and rubs his hands. '"ye have just compounded with rank treason-felony for the same bribe," says sir john. "wherefore to horse, and get the guns."' 'but master collins meant the guns for sir andrew barton all along, didn't he?' said dan. 'questionless, that he did,' said hal. 'but he lost them. we poured into the village on the red edge of dawn, sir john horsed, in half-armour, his pennon flying; behind him thirty stout brightling knaves, five abreast; behind them four wool-wains, and behind them four trumpets to triumph over the jest, blowing: _our king went forth to normandie_. when we halted and rolled the ringing guns out of the tower, 'twas for all the world like friar roger's picture of the french siege in the queen's missal-book.' 'and what did we--i mean, what did our village do?' said dan. 'oh! bore it nobly--nobly,' cried hal. 'though they had tricked me, i was proud of them. they came out of their housen, looked at that little army as though it had been a post, and went their shut-mouthed way. never a sign! never a word! they'd ha' perished sooner than let brightling overcrow us. even that villain, ticehurst will, coming out of the bell for his morning ale, he all but runs under sir john's horse. '"'ware, sirrah devil!" cries sir john, reining back. '"oh!" says will. "market-day, is it? and all the bullocks from brightling here?" 'i spared him his belting for that--the brazen knave! 'but john collins was our masterpiece! he happened along-street (his jaw tied up where sebastian had clouted him) when we were trundling the first demi-cannon through the lych-gate. '"i reckon you'll find her middlin' heavy," he says. "if you've a mind to pay, i'll loan ye my timber-tug. she won't lie easy on ary wool-wain." 'that was the one time i ever saw sebastian taken flat aback. he opened and shut his mouth, fishy-like. '"no offence," says master john. "you've got her reasonable good cheap. i thought ye might not grudge me a groat if i helped move her." ah, he was a masterpiece! they say that morning's work cost our john two hundred pounds, and he never winked an eyelid, not even when he saw the guns all carted off to lewes.' 'neither then nor later?' said puck. 'once. 'twas after he gave st barnabas' the new chime of bells. (oh, there was nothing the collinses, or the hayes, or the fowles, or the fenners would not do for the church then! "ask and have" was their song.) we had rung 'em in, and he was in the tower with black nick fowle, that gave us our rood-screen. the old man pinches the bell-rope one hand and scratches his neck with t'other. "sooner she was pulling yon clapper than my neck, he says. that was all! that was sussex--seely sussex for everlastin'!' 'and what happened after?' said una. 'i went back into england,' said hal, slowly. 'i'd had my lesson against pride. but they tell me i left st barnabas' a jewel--justabout a jewel! wel-a-well! 'twas done for and among my own people, and--father roger was right--i never knew such trouble or such triumph since. that's the nature o' things. a dear--dear land.' he dropped his chin on his chest. 'there's your father at the forge. what's he talking to old hobden about?' said puck, opening his hand with three leaves in it. dan looked towards the cottage. 'oh, i know. it's that old oak lying across the brook. pater always wants it grubbed.' in the still valley they could hear old hobden's deep tones. 'have it _as_ you've a mind to,' he was saying. 'but the vivers of her roots they hold the bank together. if you grub her out, the bank she'll all come tearin' down, an' next floods the brook'll swarve up. but have it as you've a mind. the mistuss she sets a heap by the ferns on her trunk. 'oh! i'll think it over,' said the pater. una laughed a little bubbling chuckle. 'what devil's in _that_ belfry?' said hal, with a lazy laugh. 'that should be a hobden by his voice.' 'why, the oak is the regular bridge for all the rabbits between the three acre and our meadow. the best place for wires on the farm, hobden says. he's got two there now,' una answered. '_he_ won't ever let it be grubbed!' 'ah, sussex! sillly sussex for everlastin',' murmured hal; and the next moment their father's voice calling across to little lindens broke the spell as little st barnabas' clock struck five. a smugglers' song if you wake at midnight, and hear a horse's feet, don't go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street, them that asks no questions isn't told a lie. watch the wall, my darling, while the gentlemen go by! five-and-twenty ponies, trotting through the dark-- brandy for the parson, 'baccy for the clerk; laces for a lady; letters for a spy, and watch the wall, my darling, while the gentlemen go by! running round the woodlump if you chance to find little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine; don't you shout to come and look, nor take 'em for your play; put the brishwood back again,--and they'll be gone next day! if you see the stable-door setting open wide; if you see a tired horse lying down inside; if your mother mends a coat cut about and tore; if the lining's wet and warm--don't you ask no more! if you meet king george's men, dressed in blue and red, you be careful what you say, and mindful what is said. if they call you 'pretty maid,' and chuck you 'neath the chin, don't you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one's been! knocks and footsteps round the house--whistles after dark-- you've no call for running out till the house-dogs bark. trusty's here, and pincher's here, and see how dumb they lie-- they don't fret to follow when the gentlemen go by! if you do as you've been told, 'likely there's a chance, you'll be give a dainty doll, all the way from france, with a cap of valenciennes, and a velvet hood-- a present from the gentlemen, along o' being good! five-and-twenty ponies, trotting through the dark-- brandy for the parson, 'baccy for the clerk. them that asks no questions isn't told a lie-- watch the wall, my darling, while the gentlemen go by! 'dymchurch flit' the bee boy's song bees! bees! hark to your bees! 'hide from your neighbours as much as you please, but all that has happened, to _us_ you must tell, or else we will give you no honey to sell!' a maiden in her glory, upon her wedding-day, must tell her bees the story, or else they'll fly away. fly away--die away-- dwindle down and leave you! but if you don't deceive your bees, your bees will not deceive you. marriage, birth or buryin', news across the seas, all you're sad or merry in, you must tell the bees. tell 'em coming in an' out, where the fanners fan, 'cause the bees are justabout as curious as a man! don't you wait where trees are, when the lightnings play; nor don't you hate where bees are, or else they'll pine away. pine away--dwine away-- anything to leave you! but if you never grieve your bees, your bees'll never grieve you! just at dusk, a soft september rain began to fall on the hop-pickers. the mothers wheeled the bouncing perambulators out of the gardens; bins were put away, and tally-books made up. the young couples strolled home, two to each umbrella, and the single men walked behind them laughing. dan and una, who had been picking after their lessons, marched off to roast potatoes at the oast-house, where old hobden, with blue-eyed bess, his lurcher dog, lived all the month through, drying the hops. they settled themselves, as usual, on the sack-strewn cot in front of the fires, and, when hobden drew up the shutter, stared, as usual, at the flameless bed of coals spouting its heat up the dark well of the old-fashioned roundel. slowly he cracked off a few fresh pieces of coal, packed them, with fingers that never flinched, exactly where they would do most good; slowly he reached behind him till dan tilted the potatoes into his iron scoop of a hand; carefully he arranged them round the fire, and then stood for a moment, black against the glare. as he closed the shutter, the oast-house seemed dark before the day's end, and he lit the candle in the lanthorn. the children liked all these things because they knew them so well. the bee boy, hobden's son, who is not quite right in his head, though he can do anything with bees, slipped in like a shadow. they only guessed it when bess's stump-tail wagged against them. a big voice began singing outside in the drizzle: 'old mother laidinwool had nigh twelve months been dead, she heard the hops were doin' well, and then popped up her head.' 'there can't be two people made to holler like that!' cried old hobden, wheeling round. 'for,' says she, 'the boys i've picked with when i was young and fair, they're bound to be at hoppin', and i'm----' a man showed at the doorway. 'well, well! they do say hoppin' 'll draw the very deadest, and now i belieft 'em. you, tom? tom shoesmith?' hobden lowered his lanthorn. 'you're a hem of a time makin' your mind to it, ralph!' the stranger strode in--three full inches taller than hobden, a grey-whiskered, brown-faced giant with clear blue eyes. they shook hands, and the children could hear the hard palms rasp together. 'you ain't lost none o' your grip,' said hobden. 'was it thirty or forty year back you broke my head at peasmarsh fair?' 'only thirty, an' no odds 'tween us regardin' heads, neither. you had it back at me with a hop-pole. how did we get home that night? swimmin'?' 'same way the pheasant come into gubbs's pocket--by a little luck an' a deal o' conjurin'.' old hobden laughed in his deep chest. 'i see you've not forgot your way about the woods. d'ye do any o' _this_ still?' the stranger pretended to look along a gun. hobden answered with a quick movement of the hand as though he were pegging down a rabbit-wire. 'no. _that's_ all that's left me now. age she must as age she can. an' what's your news since all these years?' 'oh, i've bin to plymouth, i've bin to dover-- i've bin ramblin', boys, the wide world over,' the man answered cheerily. 'i reckon i know as much of old england as most.' he turned towards the children and winked boldly. 'i lay they told you a sight o' lies, then. i've been into england fur as wiltsheer once. i was cheated proper over a pair of hedgin'-gloves,' said hobden. 'there's fancy-talkin' everywhere. _you've_ cleaved to your own parts pretty middlin' close, ralph.' 'can't shift an old tree 'thout it dyin',' hobden chuckled. 'an' i be no more anxious to die than you look to be to help me with my hops tonight.' the great man leaned against the brickwork of the roundel, and swung his arms abroad. 'hire me!' was all he said, and they stumped upstairs laughing. the children heard their shovels rasp on the cloth where the yellow hops lie drying above the fires, and all the oast-house filled with the sweet, sleepy smell as they were turned. 'who is it?' una whispered to the bee boy. 'dunno, no more'n you--if _you_ dunno,' said he, and smiled. the voices on the drying-floor talked and chuckled together, and the heavy footsteps moved back and forth. presently a hop-pocket dropped through the press-hole overhead, and stiffened and fattened as they shovelled it full. 'clank!' went the press, and rammed the loose stuff into tight cake. 'gently!' they heard hobden cry. 'you'll bust her crop if you lay on so. you be as careless as gleason's bull, tom. come an' sit by the fires. she'll do now.' they came down, and as hobden opened the shutter to see if the potatoes were done tom shoesmith said to the children, 'put a plenty salt on 'em. that'll show you the sort o' man _i_ be.' again he winked, and again the bee boy laughed and una stared at dan. '_i_ know what sort o' man you be,' old hobden grunted, groping for the potatoes round the fire. 'do ye?' tom went on behind his back. 'some of us can't abide horseshoes, or church bells, or running water; an', talkin' o' runnin' water'--he turned to hobden, who was backing out of the roundel--'d'you mind the great floods at robertsbridge, when the miller's man was drowned in the street?' 'middlin' well.' old hobden let himself down on the coals by the fire-door. 'i was courtin' my woman on the marsh that year. carter to mus' plum i was, gettin' ten shillin's week. mine was a marsh woman.' 'won'erful odd-gates place----romney marsh,' said tom shoesmith. 'i've heard say the world's divided like into europe, ashy, afriky, ameriky, australy, an' romney marsh.' 'the marsh folk think so,' said hobden. 'i had a hem o' trouble to get my woman to leave it.' 'where did she come out of? i've forgot, ralph.' 'dymchurch under the wall,' hobden answered, a potato in his hand. 'then she'd be a pett--or a whitgift, would she?' 'whitgift.' hobden broke open the potato and ate it with the curious neatness of men who make most of their meals in the blowy open. 'she growed to be quite reasonable-like after livin' in the weald awhile, but our first twenty year or two she was odd-fashioned, no bounds. and she was a won'erful hand with bees.' he cut away a little piece of potato and threw it out to the door. 'ah! i've heard say the whitgifts could see further through a millstone than most,' said shoesmith. 'did she, now?' 'she was honest-innocent of any nigromancin',' said hobden. 'only she'd read signs and sinnifications out o' birds flyin', stars fallin', bees hivin', and such. an, she'd lie awake--listenin' for calls, she said.' 'that don't prove naught,' said tom. 'all marsh folk has been smugglers since time everlastin'. 'twould be in her blood to listen out o' nights.' 'nature-ally,' old hobden replied, smiling. 'i mind when there was smugglin' a sight nearer us than what the marsh be. but that wasn't my woman's trouble. 'twas a passel o' no-sense talk'--he dropped his voice--'about pharisees.' 'yes. i've heard marsh men belieft in 'em.' tom looked straight at the wide-eyed children beside bess. 'pharisees,' cried una. 'fairies? oh, i see!' 'people o' the hills,' said the bee boy, throwing half of his potato towards the door. 'there you be!' said hobden, pointing at him. my boy--he has her eyes and her out-gate sense. that's what _she_ called 'em!' 'and what did you think of it all?' 'um--um,' hobden rumbled. 'a man that uses fields an' shaws after dark as much as i've done, he don't go out of his road excep' for keepers.' 'but settin' that aside?' said tom, coaxingly. 'i saw ye throw the good piece out-at-doors just now. do ye believe or--_do_ ye?' 'there was a great black eye to that tater,' said hobden indignantly. 'my liddle eye didn't see un, then. it looked as if you meant it for--for any one that might need it. but settin' that aside, d'ye believe or--_do_ ye?' 'i ain't sayin' nothin', because i've heard naught, an' i've see naught. but if you was to say there was more things after dark in the shaws than men, or fur, or feather, or fin, i dunno as i'd go far about to call you a liar. now turnagain, tom. what's your say?' 'i'm like you. i say nothin'. but i'll tell you a tale, an' you can fit it _as_ how you please.' 'passel o' no-sense stuff,' growled hobden, but he filled his pipe. 'the marsh men they call it dymchurch flit,' tom went on slowly. 'hap you have heard it?' 'my woman she've told it me scores o' times. dunno as i didn't end by belieftin' it--sometimes.' hobden crossed over as he spoke, and sucked with his pipe at the yellow lanthorn flame. tom rested one great elbow on one great knee, where he sat among the coal. 'have you ever bin in the marsh?' he said to dan. 'only as far as rye, once,' dan answered. 'ah, that's but the edge. back behind of her there's steeples settin' beside churches, an' wise women settin' beside their doors, an' the sea settin' above the land, an' ducks herdin' wild in the diks' (he meant ditches). 'the marsh is justabout riddled with diks an' sluices, an' tide-gates an' water-lets. you can hear 'em bubblin' an' grummelin' when the tide works in 'em, an' then you hear the sea rangin' left and right-handed all up along the wall. you've seen how flat she is--the marsh? you'd think nothin' easier than to walk eend-on acrost her? ah, but the diks an' the water-lets, they twists the roads about as ravelly as witch-yarn on the spindles. so ye get all turned round in broad daylight.' 'that's because they've dreened the waters into the diks,' said hobden. 'when i courted my woman the rushes was green--eh me! the rushes was green--an' the bailiff o' the marshes he rode up and down as free as the fog.' 'who was he?' said dan. 'why, the marsh fever an' ague. he've clapped me on the shoulder once or twice till i shook proper. but now the dreenin' off of the waters have done away with the fevers; so they make a joke, like, that the bailiff o' the marshes broke his neck in a dik. a won'erful place for bees an' ducks 'tis too.' 'an' old,' tom went on. 'flesh an' blood have been there since time everlastin' beyond. well, now, speakin' among themselves, the marsh men say that from time everlastin' beyond, the pharisees favoured the marsh above the rest of old england. i lay the marsh men ought to know. they've been out after dark, father an' son, smugglin' some one thing or t'other, since ever wool grew to sheep's backs. they say there was always a middlin' few pharisees to be seen on the marsh. impident as rabbits, they was. they'd dance on the nakid roads in the nakid daytime; they'd flash their liddle green lights along the diks, comin' an' goin', like honest smugglers. yes, an' times they'd lock the church doors against parson an' clerk of sundays.' 'that 'ud be smugglers layin' in the lace or the brandy till they could run it out o' the marsh. i've told my woman so,' said hobden. 'i'll lay she didn't belieft it, then--not if she was a whitgift. a won'erful choice place for pharisees, the marsh, by all accounts, till queen bess's father he come in with his reformatories.' 'would that be a act of parliament like?' hobden asked. 'sure-ly. can't do nothing in old england without act, warrant an' summons. he got his act allowed him, an', they say, queen bess's father he used the parish churches something shameful. justabout tore the gizzards out of i dunnamany. some folk in england they held with 'en; but some they saw it different, an' it eended in 'em takin' sides an' burnin' each other no bounds, accordin' which side was top, time bein'. that tarrified the pharisees: for goodwill among flesh an' blood is meat an' drink to 'em, an' ill-will is poison.' 'same as bees,' said the bee boy. 'bees won't stay by a house where there's hating.' 'true,' said tom. 'this reformatories tarrified the pharisees same as the reaper goin' round a last stand o' wheat tarrifies rabbits. they packed into the marsh from all parts, and they says, "fair or foul, we must flit out o' this, for merry england's done with, an' we're reckoned among the images."' 'did they _all_ see it that way?' said hobden. 'all but one that was called robin--if you've heard of him. what are you laughin' at?' tom turned to dan. 'the pharisees's trouble didn't tech robin, because he'd cleaved middlin' close to people, like. no more he never meant to go out of old england--not he; so he was sent messagin' for help among flesh an' blood. but flesh an' blood must always think of their own concerns, an' robin couldn't get _through_ at 'em, ye see. they thought it was tide-echoes off the marsh.' 'what did you--what did the fai--pharisees want?' una asked. 'a boat, to be sure. their liddle wings could no more cross channel than so many tired butterflies. a boat an' a crew they desired to sail 'em over to france, where yet awhile folks hadn't tore down the images. they couldn't abide cruel canterbury bells ringin' to bulverhithe for more pore men an' women to be burnded, nor the king's proud messenger ridin' through the land givin' orders to tear down the images. they couldn't abide it no shape. nor yet they couldn't get their boat an' crew to flit by without leave an' good-will from flesh an' blood; an' flesh an' blood came an' went about its own business the while the marsh was swarvin' up, an' swarvin' up with pharisees from all england over, strivin' all means to get through at flesh an' blood to tell 'em their sore need ... i don't know as you've ever heard say pharisees are like chickens?' 'my woman used to say that too,' said hobden, folding his brown arms. 'they be. you run too many chickens together, an' the ground sickens, like, an' you get a squat, an' your chickens die. same way, you crowd pharisees all in one place--_they_ don't die, but flesh an' blood walkin' among 'em is apt to sick up an' pine off. _they_ don't mean it, an' flesh an' blood don't know it, but that's the truth--as i've heard. the pharisees through bein' all stenched up an' frighted, an' trying' to come _through_ with their supplications, they nature-ally changed the thin airs an' humours in flesh an' blood. it lay on the marsh like thunder. men saw their churches ablaze with the wildfire in the windows after dark; they saw their cattle scatterin' an' no man scarin'; their sheep flockin' an' no man drivin'; their horses latherin' an' no man leadin'; they saw the liddle low green lights more than ever in the dik-sides; they heard the liddle feet patterin' more than ever round the houses; an' night an' day, day an' night, 'twas all as though they were bein' creeped up on, an' hinted at by some one or other that couldn't rightly shape their trouble. oh, i lay they sweated! man an' maid, woman an' child, their nature done 'em no service all the weeks while the marsh was swarvin' up with pharisees. but they was flesh an' blood, an' marsh men before all. they reckoned the signs sinnified trouble for the marsh. or that the sea 'ud rear up against dymchurch wall an' they'd be drownded like old winchelsea; or that the plague was comin'. so they looked for the meanin' in the sea or in the clouds--far an' high up. they never thought to look near an' knee-high, where they could see naught. 'now there was a poor widow at dymchurch under the wall, which, lacking man or property, she had the more time for feeling; and she come to feel there was a trouble outside her doorstep bigger an' heavier than aught she'd ever carried over it. she had two sons--one born blind, an' t'other struck dumb through fallin' off the wall when he was liddle. they was men grown, but not wage-earnin', an' she worked for 'em, keepin' bees and answerin' questions.' 'what sort of questions?' said dan. 'like where lost things might be found, an' what to put about a crooked baby's neck, an' how to join parted sweethearts. she felt the trouble on the marsh same as eels feel thunder. she was a wise woman.' 'my woman was won'erful weather-tender, too,' said hobden. 'i've seen her brish sparks like off an anvil out of her hair in thunderstorms. but she never laid out to answer questions.' 'this woman was a seeker, like, an' seekers they sometimes find. one night, while she lay abed, hot an' achin', there come a dream an' tapped at her window, an' "widow whitgift," it said, "widow whitgift!" 'first, by the wings an' the whistlin', she thought it was peewits, but last she arose an' dressed herself, an' opened her door to the marsh, an' she felt the trouble an' the groanin' all about her, strong as fever an' ague, an' she calls: "what is it? oh, what is it?" 'then 'twas all like the frogs in the diks peepin'; then 'twas all like the reeds in the diks clip-clappin'; an' then the great tide-wave rummelled along the wall, an' she couldn't hear proper. 'three times she called, an' three times the tide-wave did her down. but she catched the quiet between, an' she cries out, "what is the trouble on the marsh that's been lying down with my heart an' arising with my body this month gone?" she felt a liddle hand lay hold on her gown-hem, an' she stooped to the pull o' that liddle hand.' tom shoesmith spread his huge fist before the fire and smiled at it. '"will the sea drown the marsh?" she says. she was a marsh woman first an' foremost. '"no," says the liddle voice. "sleep sound for all o' that." '"is the plague comin' to the marsh?" she says. them was all the ills she knowed. '"no. sleep sound for all o' that," says robin. 'she turned about, half mindful to go in, but the liddle voices grieved that shrill an' sorrowful she turns back, an' she cries: "if it is not a trouble of flesh an' blood, what can i do?" 'the pharisees cried out upon her from all round to fetch them a boat to sail to france, an' come back no more. '"there's a boat on the wall," she says, "but i can't push it down to the sea, nor sail it when 'tis there." '"lend us your sons," says all the pharisees. "give 'em leave an' good-will to sail it for us, mother--o mother!" '"one's dumb, an' t'other's blind," she says. "but all the dearer me for that; and you'll lose them in the big sea." the voices justabout pierced through her; an' there was children's voices too. she stood out all she could, but she couldn't rightly stand against _that_. so she says: "if you can draw my sons for your job, i'll not hinder 'em. you can't ask no more of a mother." 'she saw them liddle green lights dance an' cross till she was dizzy; she heard them liddle feet patterin' by the thousand; she heard cruel canterbury bells ringing to bulverhithe, an' she heard the great tide-wave ranging along the wall. that was while the pharisees was workin' a dream to wake her two sons asleep: an' while she bit on her fingers she saw them two she'd bore come out an' pass her with never a word. she followed 'em, cryin' pitiful, to the old boat on the wall, an' that they took an' runned down to the sea. 'when they'd stepped mast an' sail the blind son speaks: "mother, we're waitin' your leave an' good-will to take them over."' tom shoesmith threw back his head and half shut his eyes. 'eh, me!' he said. 'she was a fine, valiant woman, the widow whitgift. she stood twistin' the eends of her long hair over her fingers, an' she shook like a poplar, makin' up her mind. the pharisees all about they hushed their children from cryin' an' they waited dumb-still. she was all their dependence. 'thout her leave an' good-will they could not pass; for she was the mother. so she shook like a aps-tree makin' up her mind. 'last she drives the word past her teeth, an' "go!" she says. "go with my leave an' goodwill." 'then i saw--then, they say, she had to brace back same as if she was wadin' in tide-water; for the pharisees just about flowed past her--down the beach to the boat, i dunnamany of 'em--with their wives an' childern an' valooables, all escapin' out of cruel old england. silver you could hear chinkin', an' liddle bundles hove down dunt on the bottom-boards, an' passels o' liddle swords an' shields raklin', an' liddle fingers an' toes scratchin' on the boatside to board her when the two sons pushed her off. that boat she sunk lower an' lower, but all the widow could see in it was her boys movin' hampered-like to get at the tackle. up sail they did, an' away they went, deep as a rye barge, away into the off-shore mists, an' the widow whitgift she sat down an' eased her grief till mornin' light.' 'i never heard she was _all_ alone,' said hobden. 'i remember now. the one called robin, he stayed with her, they tell. she was all too grievious to listen to his promises.' 'ah! she should ha' made her bargain beforehand. i allus told my woman so!' hobden cried. 'no. she loaned her sons for a pure love-loan, bein' as she sensed the trouble on the marshes, an' was simple good-willin' to ease it.' tom laughed softly. 'she done that. yes, she done that! from hithe to bulverhithe, fretty man an' maid, ailin' woman an' wailin' child, they took the advantage of the change in the thin airs just about _as_ soon as the pharisees flitted. folks come out fresh an' shinin' all over the marsh like snails after wet. an' that while the widow whitgift sat grievin' on the wall. she might have belieft us--she might have trusted her sons would be sent back! she fussed, no bounds, when their boat come in after three days.' 'and, of course, the sons were both quite cured?' said una. 'no-o. that would have been out o' nature. she got 'em back as she sent 'em. the blind man he hadn't seen naught of anythin', an' the dumb man nature-ally he couldn't say aught of what he'd seen. i reckon that was why the pharisees pitched on 'em for the ferryin' job.' 'but what did you--what did robin promise the widow?' said dan. 'what _did_ he promise, now?' tom pretended to think. 'wasn't your woman a whitgift, ralph? didn't she ever say?' 'she told me a passel o' no-sense stuff when he was born.' hobden pointed at his son. 'there was always to be one of 'em that could see further into a millstone than most.' 'me! that's me!' said the bee boy so suddenly that they all laughed. 'i've got it now!' cried tom, slapping his knee. 'so long as whitgift blood lasted, robin promised there would allers be one o' her stock that--that no trouble 'ud lie on, no maid 'ud sigh on, no night could frighten, no fright could harm, no harm could make sin, an' no woman could make a fool of.' 'well, ain't that just me?' said the bee boy, where he sat in the silver square of the great september moon that was staring into the oast-house door. 'they was the exact words she told me when we first found he wasn't like others. but it beats me how you known 'em,' said hobden. 'aha! there's more under my hat besides hair?' tom laughed and stretched himself. 'when i've seen these two young folk home, we'll make a night of old days, ralph, with passin' old tales--eh? an' where might you live?' he said, gravely, to dan. 'an' do you think your pa 'ud give me a drink for takin' you there, missy?' they giggled so at this that they had to run out. tom picked them both up, set one on each broad shoulder, and tramped across the ferny pasture where the cows puffed milky puffs at them in the moonlight. 'oh, puck! puck! i guessed you right from when you talked about the salt. how could you ever do it?' una cried, swinging along delighted. 'do what?' he said, and climbed the stile by the pollard oak. 'pretend to be tom shoesmith,' said dan, and they ducked to avoid the two little ashes that grow by the bridge over the brook. tom was almost running. 'yes. that's my name, mus' dan,' he said, hurrying over the silent shining lawn, where a rabbit sat by the big white-thorn near the croquet ground. 'here you be.' he strode into the old kitchen yard, and slid them down as ellen came to ask questions. 'i'm helping in mus' spray's oast-house,' he said to her. 'no, i'm no foreigner. i knowed this country 'fore your mother was born; an'--yes, it's dry work oastin', miss. thank you.' ellen went to get a jug, and the children went in--magicked once more by oak, ash, and thorn! a three-part song i'm just in love with all these three, the weald an' the marsh an' the down countrie; nor i don't know which i love the most, the weald or the marsh or the white chalk coast! i've buried my heart in a ferny hill, twix' a liddle low shaw an' a great high gill. oh, hop-bine yaller an' woodsmoke blue, i reckon you'll keep her middling true! i've loosed my mind for to out an' run on a marsh that was old when kings begun: oh, romney level an' brenzett reeds, i reckon you know what my mind needs! i've given my soul to the southdown grass, an' sheep-bells tinkled where you pass. oh, firle an' ditchling an' sails at sea, i reckon you keep my soul for me! the treasure and the law song of the fifth river when first by eden tree the four great rivers ran, to each was appointed a man her prince and ruler to be. but after this was ordained, (the ancient legends tell), there came dark israel, for whom no river remained. then he that is wholly just said to him: 'fling on the ground a handful of yellow dust, and a fifth great river shall run, mightier than these four, in secret the earth around; and her secret evermore shall be shown to thee and thy race. so it was said and done. and, deep in the veins of earth, and, fed by a thousand springs that comfort the market-place, or sap the power of kings, the fifth great river had birth, even as it was foretold-- the secret river of gold! and israel laid down his sceptre and his crown, to brood on that river bank, where the waters flashed and sank, and burrowed in earth and fell, and bided a season below; for reason that none might know, save only israel. he is lord of the last-- the fifth, most wonderful, flood. he hears her thunder past and her song is in his blood. he can foresay: 'she will fall,' for he knows which fountain dries behind which desert-belt a thousand leagues to the south. he can foresay: 'she will rise.' he knows what far snows melt; along what mountain-wall a thousand leagues to the north. he snuffs the coming drought as he snuffs the coming rain, he knows what each will bring forth, and turns it to his gain. a prince without a sword, a ruler without a throne; israel follows his quest. in every land a guest, of many lands a lord, in no land king is he. but the fifth great river keeps the secret of her deeps for israel alone, as it was ordered to be. the treasure and the law now it was the third week in november, and the woods rang with the noise of pheasant-shooting. no one hunted that steep, cramped country except the village beagles, who, as often as not, escaped from their kennels and made a day of their own. dan and una found a couple of them towling round the kitchen-garden after the laundry cat. the little brutes were only too pleased to go rabbiting, so the children ran them all along the brook pastures and into little lindens farm-yard, where the old sow vanquished them--and up to the quarry-hole, where they started a fox. he headed for far wood, and there they frightened out all the pheasants, who were sheltering from a big beat across the valley. then the cruel guns began again, and they grabbed the beagles lest they should stray and get hurt. 'i wouldn't be a pheasant--in november--for a lot,' dan panted, as he caught _folly_ by the neck. 'why did you laugh that horrid way?' 'i didn't,' said una, sitting on _flora_, the fat lady-dog. 'oh, look! the silly birds are going back to their own woods instead of ours, where they would be safe.' 'safe till it pleased you to kill them.' an old man, so tall he was almost a giant, stepped from behind the clump of hollies by volaterrae. the children jumped, and the dogs dropped like setters. he wore a sweeping gown of dark thick stuff, lined and edged with yellowish fur, and he bowed a bent-down bow that made them feel both proud and ashamed. then he looked at them steadily, and they stared back without doubt or fear. 'you are not afraid?' he said, running his hands through his splendid grey beard. 'not afraid that those men yonder'--he jerked his head towards the incessant pop-pop of the guns from the lower woods--'will do you hurt?' 'we-ell'--dan liked to be accurate, especially when he was shy--'old hobd--a friend of mine told me that one of the beaters got peppered last week--hit in the leg, i mean. you see, mr meyer _will_ fire at rabbits. but he gave waxy garnett a quid--sovereign, i mean--and waxy told hobden he'd have stood both barrels for half the money.' 'he doesn't understand,' una cried, watching the pale, troubled face. 'oh, i wish----' she had scarcely said it when puck rustled out of the hollies and spoke to the man quickly in foreign words. puck wore a long cloak too--the afternoon was just frosting down--and it changed his appearance altogether. 'nay, nay!' he said at last. 'you did not understand the boy. a freeman was a little hurt, by pure mischance, at the hunting.' 'i know that mischance! what did his lord do? laugh and ride over him?' the old man sneered. 'it was one of your own people did the hurt, kadmiel.' puck's eyes twinkled maliciously. 'so he gave the freeman a piece of gold, and no more was said.' 'a jew drew blood from a christian and no more was said?' kadmiel cried. 'never! when did they torture him?' 'no man may be bound, or fined, or slain till he has been judged by his peers,' puck insisted. 'there is but one law in old england for jew or christian--the law that was signed at runnymede.' 'why, that's magna charta!' dan whispered. it was one of the few history dates that he could remember. kadmiel turned on him with a sweep and a whirr of his spicy-scented gown. 'dost _thou_ know of that, babe?' he cried, and lifted his hands in wonder. 'yes,' said dan firmly. 'magna charta was signed by john, that henry the third put his heel upon. and old hobden says that if it hadn't been for _her_ (he calls everything "her", you know), the keepers would have him clapped in lewes gaol all the year round.' again puck translated to kadmiel in the strange, solemn-sounding language, and at last kadmiel laughed. 'out of the mouths of babes do we learn,' said he. 'but tell me now, and i will not call you a babe but a rabbi, _why_ did the king sign the roll of the new law at runnymede? for he was a king.' dan looked sideways at his sister. it was her turn. 'because he jolly well had to,' said una softly. 'the barons made him.' 'nay,' kadmiel answered, shaking his head. 'you christians always forget that gold does more than the sword. our good king signed because he could not borrow more money from us bad jews.' he curved his shoulders as he spoke. 'a king without gold is a snake with a broken back, and'--his nose sneered up and his eyebrows frowned down--'it is a good deed to break a snake's back. that was my work,' he cried, triumphantly, to puck. 'spirit of earth, bear witness that that was _my_ work!' he shot up to his full towering height, and his words rang like a trumpet. he had a voice that changed its tone almost as an opal changes colour--sometimes deep and thundery, sometimes thin and waily, but always it made you listen. 'many people can bear witness to that,' puck answered. 'tell these babes how it was done. remember, master, they do not know doubt or fear.' 'so i saw in their faces when we met,' said kadmiel. 'yet surely, surely they are taught to spit upon jews?' 'are they?' said dan, much interested. 'where at?' puck fell back a pace, laughing. 'kadmiel is thinking of king john's reign,' he explained. 'his people were badly treated then.' 'oh, we know _that_.' they answered, and (it was very rude of them, but they could not help it) they stared straight at kadmiel's mouth to see if his teeth were all there. it stuck in their lesson-memory that king john used to pull out jews' teeth to make them lend him money. kadmiel understood the look and smiled bitterly. 'no. your king never drew my teeth: i think, perhaps, i drew his. listen! i was not born among christians, but among moors--in spain--in a little white town under the mountains. yes, the moors are cruel, but at least their learned men dare to think. it was prophesied of me at my birth that i should be a lawgiver to a people of a strange speech and a hard language. we jews are always looking for the prince and the lawgiver to come. why not? my people in the town (we were very few) set me apart as a child of the prophecy--the chosen of the chosen. we jews dream so many dreams. you would never guess it to see us slink about the rubbish-heaps in our quarter; but at the day's end--doors shut, candles lit--aha! _then_ we became the chosen again.' he paced back and forth through the wood as he talked. the rattle of the shot-guns never ceased, and the dogs whimpered a little and lay flat on the leaves. 'i was a prince. yes! think of a little prince who had never known rough words in his own house handed over to shouting, bearded rabbis, who pulled his ears and filliped his nose, all that he might learn--learn--learn to be king when his time came. hé! such a little prince it was! one eye he kept on the stone-throwing moorish boys, and the other it roved about the streets looking for his kingdom. yes, and he learned to cry softly when he was hunted up and down those streets. he learned to do all things without noise. he played beneath his father's table when the great candle was lit, and he listened as children listen to the talk of his father's friends above the table. they came across the mountains, from out of all the world, for my prince's father was their counsellor. they came from behind the armies of sala-ud-din: from rome: from venice: from england. they stole down our alley, they tapped secretly at our door, they took off their rags, they arrayed themselves, and they talked to my father at the wine. all over the world the heathen fought each other. they brought news of these wars, and while he played beneath the table, my prince heard these meanly dressed ones decide between themselves how, and when, and for how long king should draw sword against king, and people rise up against people. why not? there can be no war without gold, and we jews know how the earth's gold moves with the seasons, and the crops, and the winds; circling and looping and rising and sinking away like a river--a wonderful underground river. how should the foolish kings know _that_ while they fight and steal and kill?' the children's faces showed that they knew nothing at all as, with open eyes, they trotted and turned beside the long-striding old man. he twitched his gown over his shoulders, and a square plate of gold, studded with jewels, gleamed for an instant through the fur, like a star through flying snow. 'no matter,' he said. 'but, credit me, my prince saw peace or war decided not once, but many times, by the fall of a coin spun between a jew from bury and a jewess from alexandria, in his father's house, when the great candle was lit. such power had we jews among the gentiles. ah, my little prince! do you wonder that he learned quickly? why not?' he muttered to himself and went on:-- 'my trade was that of a physician. when i had learned it in spain i went to the east to find my kingdom. why not? a jew is as free as a sparrow--or a dog. he goes where he is hunted. in the east i found libraries where men dared to think--schools of medicine where they dared to learn. i was diligent in my business. therefore i stood before kings. i have been a brother to princes and a companion to beggars, and i have walked between the living and the dead. there was no profit in it. i did not find my kingdom. so, in the tenth year of my travels, when i had reached the uttermost eastern sea, i returned to my father's house. god had wonderfully preserved my people. none had been slain, none even wounded, and only a few scourged. i became once more a son in my father's house. again the great candle was lit; again the meanly apparelled ones tapped on our door after dusk; and again i heard them weigh out peace and war, as they weighed out the gold on the table. but i was not rich--not very rich. therefore, when those that had power and knowledge and wealth talked together, i sat in the shadow. why not? 'yet all my wanderings had shown me one sure thing, which is, that a king without money is like a spear without a head. he cannot do much harm. i said, therefore, to elias of bury, a great one among our people: "why do our people lend any more to the kings that oppress us?" "because," said elias, "if we refuse they stir up their people against us, and the people are tenfold more cruel than kings. if thou doubtest, come with me to bury in england and live as i live." 'i saw my mother's face across the candle flame, and i said, "i will come with thee to bury. maybe my kingdom shall be there." 'so i sailed with elias to the darkness and the cruelty of bury in england, where there are no learned men. how can a man be wise if he hate? at bury i kept his accounts for elias, and i saw men kill jews there by the tower. no--none laid hands on elias. he lent money to the king, and the king's favour was about him. a king will not take the life so long as there is any gold. this king--yes, john--oppressed his people bitterly because they would not give him money. yet his land was a good land. if he had only given it rest he might have cropped it as a christian crops his beard. but even _that_ little he did not know, for god had deprived him of all understanding, and had multiplied pestilence, and famine, and despair upon the people. therefore his people turned against us jews, who are all people's dogs. why not? lastly the barons and the people rose together against the king because of his cruelties. nay--nay--the barons did not love the people, but they saw that if the king cut up and destroyed the common people, he would presently destroy the barons. they joined then, as cats and pigs will join to slay a snake. i kept the accounts, and i watched all these things, for i remembered the prophecy. 'a great gathering of barons (to most of whom we had lent money) came to bury, and there, after much talk and a thousand runnings-about, they made a roll of the new laws that they would force on the king. if he swore to keep those laws, they would allow him a little money. that was the king's god--money--to waste. they showed us the roll of the new laws. why not? we had lent them money. we knew all their counsels--we jews shivering behind our doors in bury.' he threw out his hands suddenly. 'we did not seek to be paid _all_ in money. we sought power--power--power! that is _our_ god in our captivity. power to use! 'i said to elias: "these new laws are good. lend no more money to the king: so long as he has money he will lie and slay the people." '"nay," said elias. "i know this people. they are madly cruel. better one king than a thousand butchers. i have lent a little money to the barons, or they would torture us, but my most i will lend to the king. he hath promised me a place near him at court, where my wife and i shall be safe." '"but if the king be made to keep these new laws," i said, "the land will have peace, and our trade will grow. if we lend he will fight again." '"who made thee a lawgiver in england?" said elias. "i know this people. let the dogs tear one another! i will lend the king ten thousand pieces of gold, and he can fight the barons at his pleasure." '"there are not two thousand pieces of gold in all england this summer," i said, for i kept the accounts, and i knew how the earth's gold moved--that wonderful underground river. elias barred home the windows, and, his hands about his mouth, he told me how, when he was trading with small wares in a french ship, he had come to the castle of pevensey.' 'oh!' said dan. 'pevensey again!' and looked at una, who nodded and skipped. 'there, after they had scattered his pack up and down the great hall, some young knights carried him to an upper room, and dropped him into a well in a wall, that rose and fell with the tide. they called him joseph, and threw torches at his wet head. why not?' 'why, of course!' cried dan. 'didn't you know it was----' puck held up his hand to stop him, and kadmiel, who never noticed, went on. 'when the tide dropped he thought he stood on old armour, but feeling with his toes, he raked up bar on bar of soft gold. some wicked treasure of the old days put away, and the secret cut off by the sword. i have heard the like before.' 'so have we,' una whispered. 'but it wasn't wicked a bit.' 'elias took a little of the stuff with him, and thrice yearly he would return to pevensey as a chapman, selling at no price or profit, till they suffered him to sleep in the empty room, where he would plumb and grope, and steal away a few bars. the great store of it still remained, and by long brooding he had come to look on it as his own. yet when we thought how we should lift and convey it, we saw no way. this was before the word of the lord had come to me. a walled fortress possessed by normans; in the midst a forty-foot tide-well out of which to remove secretly many horse-loads of gold! hopeless! so elias wept. adah, his wife, wept too. she had hoped to stand beside the queen's christian tiring-maids at court when the king should give them that place at court which he had promised. why not? she was born in england--an odious woman. 'the present evil to us was that elias, out of his strong folly, had, as it were, promised the king that he would arm him with more gold. wherefore the king in his camp stopped his ears against the barons and the people. wherefore men died daily. adah so desired her place at court, she besought elias to tell the king where the treasure lay, that the king might take it by force, and--they would trust in his gratitude. why not? this elias refused to do, for he looked on the gold as his own. they quarrelled, and they wept at the evening meal, and late in the night came one langton--a priest, almost learned--to borrow more money for the barons. elias and adah went to their chamber.' kadmiel laughed scornfully in his beard. the shots across the valley stopped as the shooting party changed their ground for the last beat. 'so it was i, not elias,' he went on quietly, 'that made terms with langton touching the fortieth of the new laws.' 'what terms?' said puck quickly. 'the fortieth of the great charter says: "to none will we sell, refuse, or delay right or justice."' 'true, but the barons had written first: _to no free man_. it cost me two hundred broad pieces of gold to change those narrow words. langton, the priest, understood. "jew though thou art," said he, "the change is just, and if ever christian and jew came to be equal in england thy people may thank thee." then he went out stealthily, as men do who deal with israel by night. i think he spent my gift upon his altar. why not? i have spoken with langton. he was such a man as i might have been if--if we jews had been a people. but yet, in many things, a child. 'i heard elias and adah abovestairs quarrel, and, knowing the woman was the stronger, i saw that elias would tell the king of the gold and that the king would continue in his stubbornness. therefore i saw that the gold must be put away from the reach of any man. of a sudden, the word of the lord came to me saying, "the morning is come, o thou that dwellest in the land."' kadmiel halted, all black against the pale green sky beyond the wood--a huge robed figure, like the moses in the picture-bible. 'i rose. i went out, and as i shut the door on that house of foolishness, the woman looked from the window and whispered, "i have prevailed on my husband to tell the king!" i answered: "there is no need. the lord is with me." 'in that hour the lord gave me full understanding of all that i must do; and his hand covered me in my ways. first i went to london, to a physician of our people, who sold me certain drugs that i needed. you shall see why. thence i went swiftly to pevensey. men fought all around me, for there were neither rulers nor judges in the abominable land. yet when i walked by them they cried out that i was one ahasuerus, a jew, condemned, as they believe, to live for ever, and they fled from me everyways. thus the lord saved me for my work, and at pevensey i bought me a little boat and moored it on the mud beneath the marsh-gate of the castle. that also god showed me.' he was as calm as though he were speaking of some stranger, and his voice filled the little bare wood with rolling music. 'i cast'--his hand went to his breast, and again the strange jewel gleamed--'i cast the drugs which i had prepared into the common well of the castle. nay, i did no harm. the more we physicians know, the less do we do. only the fool says: "i dare." i caused a blotched and itching rash to break out upon their skins, but i knew it would fade in fifteen days. i did not stretch out my hand against their life. they in the castle thought it was the plague, and they ran out, taking with them their very dogs. 'a christian physician, seeing that i was a jew and a stranger, vowed that i had brought the sickness from london. this is the one time i have ever heard a christian leech speak truth of any disease. thereupon the people beat me, but a merciful woman said: "do not kill him now. push him into our castle with his plague, and if, as he says, it will abate on the fifteenth day, we can kill him then." why not? they drove me across the drawbridge of the castle, and fled back to their booths. thus i came to be alone with the treasure.' 'but did you know this was all going to happen just right?' said una. 'my prophecy was that i should be a lawgiver to a people of a strange land and a hard speech. i knew i should not die. i washed my cuts. i found the tide-well in the wall, and from sabbath to sabbath i dove and dug there in that empty, christian-smelling fortress. hé! i spoiled the egyptians! hé! if they had only known! i drew up many good loads of gold, which i loaded by night into my boat. there had been gold-dust too, but that had been washed out by the tides.' 'didn't you ever wonder who had put it there?' said dan, stealing a glance at puck's calm, dark face under the hood of his gown. puck shook his head and pursed his lips. 'often; for the gold was new to me,' kadmiel replied. 'i know the golds. i can judge them in the dark; but this was heavier and redder than any we deal in. perhaps it was the very gold of parvaim. eh, why not? it went to my heart to heave it on to the mud, but i saw well that if the evil thing remained, or if even the hope of finding it remained, the king would not sign the new laws, and the land would perish.' 'oh, marvel!' said puck, beneath his breath, rustling in the dead leaves. 'when the boat was loaded i washed my hands seven times, and pared beneath my nails, for i would not keep one grain. i went out by the little gate where the castle's refuse is thrown. i dared not hoist sail lest men should see me; but the lord commanded the tide to bear me carefully, and i was far from land before the morning.' 'weren't you afraid?' said una. 'why? there were no christians in the boat. at sunrise i made my prayer, and cast the gold--all--all that gold--into the deep sea! a king's ransom--no, the ransom of a people! when i had loosed hold of the last bar, the lord commanded the tide to return me to a haven at the mouth of a river, and thence i walked across a wilderness to lewes, where i have brethren. they opened the door to me, and they say--i had not eaten for two days--they say that i fell across the threshold, crying: "i have sunk an army with horsemen in the sea!"' 'but you hadn't,' said una. 'oh, yes! i see! you meant that king john might have spent it on that?' 'even so,' said kadmiel. the firing broke out again close behind them. the pheasants poured over the top of a belt of tall firs. they could see young mr meyer, in his new yellow gaiters, very busy and excited at the end of the line, and they could hear the thud of the falling birds. 'but what did elias of bury do?' puck demanded. 'he had promised money to the king.' kadmiel smiled grimly. 'i sent him word from london that the lord was on my side. when he heard that the plague had broken out in pevensey, and that a jew had been thrust into the castle to cure it, he understood my word was true. he and adah hurried to lewes and asked me for an accounting. he still looked on the gold as his own. i told them where i had laid it, and i gave them full leave to pick it up ... eh, well! the curses of a fool and the dust of a journey are two things no wise man can escape ... but i pitied elias! the king was wroth with him because he could not lend; the barons were wroth too because they heard that he would have lent to the king; and adah was wroth with him because she was an odious woman. they took ship from lewes to spain. that was wise!' 'and you? did you see the signing of the law at runnymede?' said puck, as kadmiel laughed noiselessly. 'nay. who am i to meddle with things too high for me? i returned to bury, and lent money on the autumn crops. why not?' there was a crackle overhead. a cock-pheasant that had sheered aside after being hit spattered down almost on top of them, driving up the dry leaves like a shell. _flora_ and _folly_ threw themselves at it; the children rushed forward, and when they had beaten them off and smoothed down the plumage kadmiel had disappeared. 'well,' said puck calmly, 'what did you think of it? weland gave the sword! the sword gave the treasure, and the treasure gave the law. it's as natural as an oak growing.' 'i don't understand. didn't he know it was sir richard's old treasure?' said dan. 'and why did sir richard and brother hugh leave it lying about? and--and----' 'never mind,' said una politely. 'he'll let us come and go and look and know another time. won't you, puck?' 'another time maybe,' puck answered. 'brr! it's cold--and late. i'll race you towards home!' they hurried down into the sheltered valley. the sun had almost sunk behind cherry clack, the trodden ground by the cattle-gates was freezing at the edges, and the new-waked north wind blew the night on them from over the hills. they picked up their feet and flew across the browned pastures, and when they halted, panting in the steam of their own breath, the dead leaves whirled up behind them. there was oak and ash and thorn enough in that year-end shower to magic away a thousand memories. so they trotted to the brook at the bottom of the lawn, wondering why _flora_ and _folly_ had missed the quarry-hole fox. old hobden was just finishing some hedge-work. they saw his white smock glimmer in the twilight where he faggoted the rubbish. 'winter, he's come, i reckon, mus' dan,' he called. 'hard times now till heffle cuckoo fair. yes, we'll all be glad to see the old woman let the cuckoo out o' the basket for to start lawful spring in england.' they heard a crash, and a stamp and a splash of water as though a heavy old cow were crossing almost under their noses. hobden ran forward angrily to the ford. 'gleason's bull again, playin' robin all over the farm! oh, look, mus' dan--his great footmark as big as a trencher. no bounds to his impidence! he might count himself to be a man or--or somebody----' a voice the other side of the brook boomed: 'i wonder who his cloak would turn when puck had led him round, or where those walking fires would burn----' then the children went in singing 'farewell rewards and fairies' at the tops of their voices. they had forgotten that they had not even said good-night to puck. the children's song land of our birth, we pledge to thee our love and toil in the years to be; when we are grown and take our place, as men and women with our race. father in heaven who lovest all, oh, help thy children when they call; that they may build from age to age, an undefiled heritage. teach us to bear the yoke in youth, with steadfastness and careful truth; that, in our time, thy grace may give the truth whereby the nations live. teach us to rule ourselves alway, controlled and cleanly night and day; that we may bring, if need arise, no maimed or worthless sacrifice. teach us to look in all our ends, on thee for judge, and not our friends; that we, with thee, may walk uncowed by fear or favour of the crowd. teach us the strength that cannot seek, by deed or thought, to hurt the weak; that, under thee, we may possess man's strength to comfort man's distress. teach us delight in simple things, and mirth that has no bitter springs; forgiveness free of evil done, and love to all men 'neath the sun! land of our birth, our faith, our pride, for whose dear sake our fathers died; o motherland, we pledge to thee head, heart and hand through the years to be! ---------------------------------------------------------------- [transcriber's note: typographic errors have been corrected. this etext was produced from amazing stories march, april and may . extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] * * * * * the galaxy primes by e. e. smith they were four of the greatest minds in the universe: two men, two women, lost in an experimental spaceship billions of parsecs from home. and as they mentally charted the cosmos to find their way back to earth, their own loves and hates were as startling as the worlds they encountered. here is e. e. smith's great new novel.... [illustration: the guardian struggled to immobilize the beast's gigantic talons as the frightened girl leaped to the safety of garlock's arms.] chapter her hair was a brilliant green. so was her spectacularly filled halter. so were her tight short-shorts, her lipstick, and the lacquer on her finger-and toe-nails. as she strolled into the main of the starship, followed hesitantly by the other girl, she drove a mental probe at the black-haired, powerfully-built man seated at the instrument-banked console. blocked. then at the other, slenderer man who was rising to his feet from the pilot's bucket seat. his guard was partially down; he was telepathing a pleasant, if somewhat reserved greeting to both newcomers. she turned to her companion and spoke aloud. "so _these_ are the system's best." the emphasis was somewhere between condescension and sneer. "not much to choose between, i'd say ... 'port me a tenth-piece, clee? heads, i take the tow-head." she flipped the coin dexterously. "heads it is, lola, so i get jim--james james james the ninth himself. you have the honor of pairing with clee--or should i say his learnedness right the honorable director doctor cleander simmsworth garlock, doctor of philosophy, doctor of science, prime operator, president and first fellow of the galaxian society, first fellow of the gunther society, fellow of the institute of paraphysics, of the institute of nuclear physics, of the college of mathematics, of the congress of psionicists, and of all the other top-bracket brain-gangs you ever heard of? also, for your information, his men have given him a couple of informal degrees--p.d.q. and s.o.b." * * * the big psionicist's expression of saturnine, almost contemptuous amusement had not changed; his voice came flat and cold. "the less you say, doctor bellamy, the better. obstinate, swell-headed women give me an acute rectal pain. pitching your curves over all the vizzies in space got you aboard, but it won't get you a thing from here on. and for your information, doctor bellamy, one more crack like that and i take you over my knee and blister your fanny." "try it, you big, clumsy, muscle-bound gorilla!" she jeered. "_that_ i want to see! any time you want to get both arms broken at the elbows, just try it!" "now's as good a time as any. i like your spirit, babe, but i can't say a thing for your judgment." he got up and started purposefully toward her, but both non-combatants came between. "jet back, clee!" james protested, both hands against the heavier man's chest. "what the hell kind of show is _that_ to put on?" and, simultaneously: "belle! shame on you! picking a fight already, and with nobody knows how many million people looking on! you know as well as i do that we may have to spend the rest of our lives together, so act like civilized beings--please--both of you! and don't...." "nobody's watching this but us," garlock interrupted. "when pussy there started using her claws i cut the gun." "that's what _you_ think," james said sharply, "but fatso and his number one girl friend are coming in on the tight beam." "oh?" garlock whirled toward the hitherto dark and silent three-dimensional communications instrument. the face of a bossy-looking woman was already bright. "garlock! how _dare_ you try to cut chancellor ferber off?" she demanded. her voice was deep-pitched, blatant with authority. "here you are, sir." the woman's face shifted to one side and a man's appeared--a face to justify in full the nickname "fatso." "'fatso', eh?" chancellor ferber snarled. pale eyes glared from the fat face. "that costs you exactly one thousand credits, james." "how much will this cost me, fatso?" garlock asked. "five thousand--and, since nobody can call me that deliberately, demotion three grades and probation for three years. make a note, miss foster." "noted, sir." "still sure we aren't going anywhere," garlock said. "_what_ a brain!" "sure i'm sure!" ferber gloated. "in a couple of hours i'm going to buy your precious starship in as junk. in the meantime, whether you like it or not, i'm going to watch your expression while you push all those pretty buttons and nothing happens." "the trouble with you, fatso," garlock said dispassionately, as he opened a drawer and took out a pair of cutting pliers, "is that all your strength is in your glands and none in your alleged brain. there are a lot of things--including a lot of tests--you know nothing about. how much will you see after i've cut one wire?" "you wouldn't dare!" the fat man shouted. "i'd fire you--blacklist you all over the sys...." voice and images died away and garlock turned to the two women in the main. he began to smile, but his mental shield did not weaken. "you've got a point there, lola," he said, going on as though ferber's interruption had not occurred. "not that i blame either belle or myself. if anything was ever calculated to drive a man nuts, this farce was. as the only female prime in the system, belle should have been in automatically--she had no competition. and to anybody with three brain cells working the other place lay between you, lola, and the other three female ops in the age group. "but no. ferber and the rest of the board--stupidity _uber alles_!--think all us ops and primes are psycho and that the ship will never even lift. so they made a grand circus of it. but they succeeded in one thing--with such abysmal stupidity so rampant i'm getting more and more reconciled to the idea of our not getting back--at least, for a long, long time." "why, they said we had a very good chance...." lola began. "yeah, and they said a lot of even bigger damn lies than that one. have you read any of my papers?" "i'm sorry. i'm not a mathematician." "our motion will be purely at random. if it isn't, i'll eat this whole ship. we won't get back until jim and i work out something to steer us with. but they must be wondering no end, outside, what the score is, so i'm willing to call it a draw--temporarily--and let 'em in again. how about it, belle?" "a draw it is--temporarily." neither, however, even offered to shake hands. "smile pretty, everybody," garlock said, and pressed a stud. "... the matter? what's the matter? oh...." the worried voice of the system's ace newscaster came in. "power failure _already_?" "no," garlock replied. "i figured we had a couple of minutes of privacy coming, if you can understand the meaning of the word. now all four of us tell everybody who is watching or listening _au revoir_ or good-bye, whichever it may turn out to be." he reached for the switch. "wait a minute!" the newscaster demanded. "leave it on until the last poss...." his voice broke off sharply. "turn it back on!" belle ordered. "nix." "scared?" she sneered. "you chirped it, bird-brain. i'm scared purple. so would you be, if you had three brain cells working in that glory-hound's head of yours. get set, everybody, and we'll take off." "stop it, both of you!" lola exclaimed. "where do you want us to sit, and do we strap down?" "you sit here; belle at that plate beside jim. yes, strap down. there probably won't be any shock, and we should land right side up, but there's no sense in taking chances. sure your stuff's all aboard?" "yes, it's in our rooms." the four secured themselves; the two men checked, for the dozenth time, their instruments. the pilot donned his scanner. the ship lifted effortlessly, noiselessly. through the atmosphere; through and far beyond the stratosphere. it stopped. "ready, clee?" james licked his lips. "as ready as i ever will be, i guess. shoot!" the pilot's right hand, forefinger outstretched, moved unenthusiastically toward a red button on his panel ... slowed ... stopped. he stared into his scanner at the earth so far below. "hit it, jim!" garlock snapped. "_hit_ it, for goodness sake, before we _all_ lose our nerve!" james stabbed convulsively at the button, and in the very instant of contact--instantaneously; without a fractional microsecond of time-lapse--their familiar surroundings disappeared. or, rather, and without any sensation of motion, of displacement, or of the passage of any time whatsoever, the planet beneath them was no longer their familiar earth. the plates showed no familiar stars nor patterns of heavenly bodies. the brightly-shining sun was very evidently not their familiar sol. "well--we went _somewhere_ ... but not to alpha centauri, not much to our surprise." james gulped twice; then went on, speaking almost jauntily now that the attempt had been made and had failed. "so now it's up to you, clee, as director of project gunther and captain of the good ship _pleiades_, to boss the more-or-less simple--more, i hope--job of getting us back to tellus." * * * science, both physical and paraphysical, had done its best. gunther's theorems, which define the electromagnetic and electrogravitic parameters pertaining to the annihilation of distance, had been studied, tested, and applied to the full. so had the psionic corollaries; which, while not having the status of paraphysical laws, do allow computation of the qualities and magnitudes of the stresses required for any given application of the gunther effect. the planning of the starship _pleiades_ had been difficult in the extreme; its construction almost impossible. while it was practically a foregone conclusion that any man of the requisite caliber would already be a member of the galaxian society, the three planets and eight satellites were screened, psionicist by psionicist, to select the two strongest and most versatile of their breed. these two, garlock and james, were heads of departments of, and under iron-clad contract to, vast solar system enterprises, inc., the only concern able and willing to attempt the building of the first starship. alonzo p. ferber, chancellor of sse, however, would not risk a tenth-piece of the company's money on such a bird-brained scheme. himself a gunther first, he believed implicitly that firsts were in fact tops in gunther ability; that these few self-styled "operators" and "prime operators" were either charlatans or self-deluded crackpots. since he could not feel that so-called "operator field," no such thing did or could exist. no gunther starship could ever, possibly, work. he did loan garlock and james to the galaxians, but that was as far as he would go. for salaries and for labor, for research and material, for trials and for errors; the society paid and paid and paid. thus the starship _pleiades_ had cost the galaxian society almost a thousand million credits. garlock and james had worked on the ship since its inception. they were to be of the crew; for over a year it had been taken for granted that would be its only crew. * * * as the _pleiades_ neared completion, however, it became clearer and clearer that the displacement-control presented an unsolved, and quite possibly an insoluble, problem. it was mathematically certain that, when the gunther field went on, the ship would be displaced instantaneously to some location in space having precisely the gunther coordinates required by that particular field. one impeccably rigorous analysis showed that the ship would shift into the nearest solar system possessing an earth-type planet; which was believed to be alpha centauri and which was close enough to sol so that orientation would be automatic and the return to earth a simple matter. since the gunther effect did in fact annihilate distance, however, another group of mathematicians, led by garlock and james, proved with equal rigor that the point of destination was no more likely to be any one given gunther point than any other one of the myriads of billions of equiguntherial points undoubtedly existent throughout the length, breadth, and thickness of our entire normal space-time continuum. the two men would go anyway, of course. carefully-calculated pressures would make them go. it was neither necessary nor desirable, however, for them to go alone. wherefore the planets and satellites were combed again; this time to select two women--the two most highly-gifted psionicists in the eighteen-to-twenty-five age group. thus, if the _pleiades_ returned successfully to earth, well and good. if she did not, the four selectees would found, upon some far-off world, a race much abler than the humanity of earth; since eighty-three percent of earth's dwellers had psionic grades lower than four. this search, with its attendant fanfare and studiedly blatant publicity, was so planned and engineered that two selected women did not arrive at the spaceport until a bare fifteen minutes before the scheduled time of take-off. thus it made no difference whether the women liked the men or not, or vice versa; or whether or not any of them really wanted to make the trip. pressures were such that each of them had to go, whether he or she wanted to or not. * * * "cut the rope, jim, and let the old bucket drop," garlock said. "not too close. before we make any kind of contact we'll have to do some organizing. these instruments," he waved at his console, "show that ours is the only operator field in this whole region of space. hence, there are no operators and no primes. that means that from now until we get back to tellus...." "_if_ we get back to tellus," belle corrected, sweetly. "_until_ we get back to tellus there will be no gunthering aboard this ship...." "_what?_" belle broke in again. "have you lost your mind?" "there will be little if any lepping, and nothing else at all. at the table, if we want sugar, we will reach for it or have it passed. we will pick up things, such as cigarettes, with our fingers. we will carry lighters and use them. when we go from place to place, we will walk. is that clear?" "you seem to be talking english," belle sneered, "but the words don't make sense." "i didn't think you were that stupid." eyes locked and held. then garlock grinned savagely. "okay. you tell her, lola, in words of as few syllables as possible." "why, to get used to it, of course," lola explained, while belle glared at garlock in frustrated anger. "so as not to reveal anything we don't have to." "thank you, miss montandon, you may go to the head of the class. all monosyllables except two. that should make it clear, even to miss bellamy." "you ... you _beast_!" belle drove a tight-beamed thought. "i was never so insulted in my life!" "you asked for it. keep on asking for it and you'll keep on getting it." then, aloud, to all three, "in emergencies, of course, anything goes. we will now proceed with business." he paused, then went on, bitingly, "if possible." "one minute, please!" belle snapped. "just why, captain garlock, are you insisting on oral communication, when lepping is so much faster and better? it's stupid--reactionary. don't you ever lep?" "with jim, on business, yes; with women, no more than i have to. what i think is nobody's business but mine." "what a way to run a ship! or a project!" "running this project is my business, not yours; and if there's any one thing in the entire universe it does _not_ need, it's a female exhibitionist. besides your obvious qualifications to be one of the eves in case of ultimate contingency...." he broke off and stared at her, his contemptuous gaze traveling slowly, dissectingly, from her toes to the topmost wave of her hair-do. "forty-two, twenty, forty?" he sneered. "you flatter me." her glare was an almost tangible force; her voice was controlled fury. "thirty-nine, twenty-two, thirty-five. five seven. one thirty-five. if any of it's any of your business, which it isn't. you should be discussing brains and ability, not vital statistics." "brains? you? no, i'll take that back. as a prime, you _have_ got a brain--one that really works. what do _you_ think you're good for on this project? what can you do?" "i can do anything any man ever born can do, and do it better!" "okay. compute a gunther field that will put us two hundred thousand feet directly above the peak of that mountain." "that isn't fair--not that i expected fairness from you--and you know it. that doesn't take either brains or ability...." "oh, no?" "no. merely highly specialized training that you know i haven't had. give me a five-tape course on it and i'll come closer than either you or james; for a hundred credits a shot." "i'll do just that. something you _are_ supposed to know, then. how would you go about making first contact?" * * * "well, i wouldn't do it the way _you_ would--by knocking down the first native i saw, putting my foot on his face, and yelling 'bow down, you stupid, ignorant beasts, and worship me, the supreme god of the macrocosmic universe'!" "try again, belle, that one missed me by...." "hold it, both of you!" james broke in. "what the hell are you trying to prove? how about cutting out this cat-and-dog act and getting some work done?" "you've got a point there," garlock admitted, holding his temper by a visible effort. "sorry, jim. belle, what were you briefed for?" "to understudy you." she, too, fought her temper down. "to learn everything about project gunther. i have a whole box of tapes in my room, including advanced gunther math and first-contact techniques. i'm to study them during all my on-watch time unless you assign other duties." "no matter what your duties may be, you'll have to have time to study. if you don't find what you want in your own tapes--and you probably won't, since ferber and his miss foster ran the selections--use our library. it's good--designed to carry on our civilization. miss montandon? no, that's silly, the way we're fixed. lola?" "i'm to learn how to be doctor james'...." "jim, please, lola," james said. "and call him clee." "i'd like that." she smiled winningly. "and my friends call me 'brownie'." "i see why they would. it fits like a coat of lacquer." * * * it did. her hair was a dark, lustrous brown, as were her eyebrows. her eyes were brown. her skin, too--her dark red playsuit left little to the imagination--was a rich and even brown. originally fairly dark, it had been tanned to a more-than-fashionable depth of color by naked sun-bathing and by practically-naked outdoor sports. a couple of inches shorter than the green-haired girl, she too had a figure to make any sculptor drool. "i'm to be dr. jim's assistant. i have a thousand tapes, more or less, to study, too. it'll be quite a while, i'm afraid, before i can be of much use, but i'll do the best i can." "if we had hit alpha centauri that arrangement would have been good, but as we are, it isn't." garlock frowned in thought, his heavy black eyebrows almost meeting above his finely-chiseled aquiline nose. "since neither jim nor i need an assistant any more than we need tails, it was designed to give you girls something to do. but out here, lost, there's work for a dozen trained specialists and there are only four of us. so we shouldn't duplicate effort. right? you first, belle." "are you asking me or telling me?" she asked. "and that's a fair question. don't read anything into it that isn't there. with your attitude, i want information." "i am asking you," he replied, carefully. "for your information, when i know what should be done, i give orders. when i don't know, as now, i ask advice. if i like it, i follow it. fair enough?" "fair enough. we're apt to need any number of specialists." "lola?" "of course we shouldn't duplicate. what shall i study?" "that's what we must figure out. we can't do it exactly, of course; all we can do now is to set up a rough scheme. jim's job is the only one that's definite. he'll have to work full time on nebular configurations. if we hit inhabited planets he'll have to add their star-charts to his own. that leaves three of us to do all the other work of a survey. ideally, we would cover all the factors that would be of use in getting us back to tellus, but since we don't know what those factors are.... found out anything yet, jim?" "a little. tellus-type planet, apparently strictly so. oceans and continents. lots of inhabitants--farms, villages, all sizes of cities. not close enough to say definitely, but inhabitants seem to be humanoid, if not human." "hold her here. besides astronomy, which is all yours, what do we need most?" "we should have enough to classify planets and inhabitants, so as to chart a space-trend if there is any. i'd say the most important ones would be geology, stratigraphy, paleontology, oceanography, xenology, anthropology, ethnology, vertebrate biology, botany, and at least some ecology." "that's about the list i was afraid of. but there are only three of us. the fields you mention number much more." "each of you will have to be a lot of specialists in one, then. i'd say the best split would be planetology, xenology, and anthropology--each, of course, stretched all out of shape to cover dozens of related and non-related specialties." "good enough. xenology, of course, is mine. contacts, liaison, politics, correlation, and so on, as well as studying the non-human life forms--including as many lower animals and plants as possible. i'll make a stab at it. now, belle, since you're a prime and lola's an operator, you get the next toughest job. planetography." "why not?" belle smiled and began to act as one of the party. "all i know about it is a hazy idea of what the word means, but i'll start studying as soon as we get squared away." "thanks. that leaves anthropology to you, lola. besides, that's your line, isn't it?" "yes. sociological anthropology. i have my m.s. in it, and am--was, i mean--working for my ph.d. but as jim said, it isn't only the one specialty. you want me, i take it, to cover humanoid races, too?" "check. you and jim both, then, will know what you're doing, while belle and i are trying to play ours by ear." "where do we draw the line between humanoid and non-human?" "in case of doubt we'll confer. that covers it as much as we can, i think. take us down, jim--and be on your toes to take evasive action fast." * * * the ship dropped rapidly toward an airport just outside a fairly large city. fifty thousand--forty thousand--thirty thousand feet. "calling strange spaceship--you must be a spaceship, in spite of your tremendous, hitherto-considered-impossible mass--" a thought impinged on all four tellurian minds, "do you read me?" "i read you clearly. this is the tellurian spaceship _pleiades_, captain garlock commanding, asking permission to land and information as to landing conventions." he did not have to tell james to stop the ship; james had already done so. "i was about to ask you to hold position; i thank you for having done so. hold for inspection and type-test, please. we will not blast unless you fire first. a few minutes, please." * * * a group of twelve jet fighters took off practically vertically upward and climbed with fantastic speed. they leveled off a thousand feet below the _pleiades_ and made a flying circle. up and into the ring thus formed there lumbered a large, clumsy-looking helicopter. "we have no record of any planet named 'tellus'; nor of any such ship as yours. of such incredible mass and with no visible or detectable means of support or of propulsion. not from this part of the galaxy, certainly ... could it be that intergalactic travel is actually possible? but excuse me, captain garlock, none of that is any of my business; which is to determine whether or not you four tellurian human beings are compatible with, and thus acceptable to, our humanity of hodell ... but you do not seem to have a standard televideo testing-box aboard." "no, sir; only our own tri-di and teevee." "you must be examined by means of a standard box. i will rise to your level and teleport one across to you. it is self-powered and fully automatic." "you needn't rise, sir. just toss the box out of your 'copter into the air. we'll take it from there." then, to james, "take it, jim." "oh? you can lift large masses against much gravity?" the alien was all attention. "i have not known that such power existed. i will observe with keen interest." "i have it," james said. "here it is." "thank you, sir," garlock said to the alien. then, to lola: "you've been reading these--these hodellians?" "the officer in the helicopter and those in the fighters, yes. most of them are gunther firsts." "good girl. the set's coming to life--watch it." the likeness of the alien being became clear upon the alien screen; visible from the waist up. while humanoid, the creature was very far indeed from being human. he--at least, it had masculine rudimentary nipples--had double shoulders and four arms. his skin was a vividly intense cobalt blue. his ears were black, long, and highly dirigible. his eyes, a flaming red in color, were large and vertically-slitted, like a cat's. he had no hair at all. his nose was large and roman; his jaw was square, almost jutting; his bright-yellow teeth were clean and sharp. after a minute of study the alien said: "although your vessel is so entirely alien that nothing even remotely like it is on record, you four are completely human and, if of compatible type, acceptable. are there any other living beings aboard with you?" "excepting micro-organisms, none." "such life is of no importance. approach, please, one of you, and grasp with a hand the projecting metal knob." with a little trepidation, garlock did so. he felt no unusual sensation at the contact. "all four of you are compatible and we accept you. this finding is surprising in the extreme, as you are the first human beings of record who grade higher than what you call gunther two ... or gunther second?" "either one; the terms are interchangeable." "you have minds of tremendous development and power; definitely superior even to my own. however, there is no doubt that physically you are perfectly compatible with our humanity. your blood will be of great benefit to it. you may land. goodbye." "wait, please. how about landing conventions? and visiting restrictions and so on? and may we keep this box? we will be glad to trade you something for it, if we have anything you would like to have?" "ah, i should have realized that your customs would be widely different from ours. since you have been examined and accepted, there are no restrictions. you will not act against humanity's good. land where you please, go where you please, do what you please as long as you please. take up permanent residence or leave as soon as you please. marry if you like, or simply breed--your unions with this planet's humanity will be fertile. keep the box without payment. as guardians of humanity we arpalones do whatever small favors we can. have i made myself clear?" "abundantly so. thank you, sir." "now i really must go. goodbye." garlock glanced into his plate. the jets had disappeared, the helicopter was falling rapidly away. he wiped his brow. "well, i'll be damned," he said. * * * when his amazement subsided he turned to the business at hand. "lola, do you check me that this planet is named hodell, that it is populated by creatures exactly like us? arpalones?" "exactly, except they aren't 'creatures'. they are humanoids, and very fine people." "you'd think so, of course ... correction accepted. well, let's take advantage of their extraordinarily hospitable invitation and go down. cut the rope, jim." * * * the airport was very large, and was divided into several sections, each of which was equipped with runways and/or other landing facilities to suit one class of craft--propellor jobs, jets, or helicopters. there were even a few structures that looked like rocket pits. "where are you going to sit down, jim? with the 'copters or over by the blast-pits?" "with the 'copters, i think. since i can place her to within a couple of inches. i'll put her squarely into that far corner, where she'll be out of everybody's way." "no concrete out there," garlock said. "but the ground seems good and solid." "we'd better not land on concrete," james grinned. "unless it's terrific stuff we'd smash it. on bare ground, the worst we can do is sink in a foot or so, and that won't hurt anything." "check. a few tons to the square foot, is all. shall we strap down and hang onto our teeth?" "who do you think you're kidding, boss? even though i've got to do this on manual, i won't tip over a half-piece standing on edge." james stopped talking, pulled out his scanner, stuck his face into it. the immense starship settled downward toward the selected corner. there was no noise, no blast, no flame, no slightest visible or detectable sign of whatever force it was that was braking the thousands of tons of the vessel's mass in its miles-long, almost-vertical plunge to ground. when the _pleiades_ struck ground the impact was scarcely to be felt. when she came to rest, after settling into the ground her allotted "foot or so," there was no jar at all. "atmosphere, temperature, and so on, approximately earth-normal," garlock said. "just as our friend said it would be." james scanned the city and the field. "our visit is kicking up a lot of excitement. shall we go out?" "not yet!" belle exclaimed. "i want to see how the women are dressed, first." "so do i," lola added, "and some other things besides." both women--lola through her operator's scanner; belle by manipulating the ship's tremendous operator field by the sheer power of her prime operator's mind--stared eagerly at the crowd of people now beginning to stream across the field. "as an anthropologist," lola announced, "i'm not only surprised. i am shocked, annoyed, and disgruntled. why, they're _exactly_ like white tellurian human beings!" "but _look_ at their _clothes_!" belle insisted. "they're wearing anything and everything, from bikinis to coveralls!" "yes, but notice." this was the anthropological scientist speaking now. "breasts and loins, covered. faces, uncovered. heads and feet and hands, either bare or covered. ditto for legs up to there, backs, arms, necks and shoulders down to here, and torsos clear down to there. we'll not violate any conventions by going out as we are. not even you, belle. you first, chief. yours the high honor of setting first foot--the biggest foot we've got, too--on alien soil." "to hell with that. we'll go out together." "wait a minute," lola went on. "there's a funny-looking automobile just coming through the gate. the press. three men and two women. two cameras, one walkie-talkie, and two microphones. the photog in the purple shirt is really a sharpie at lepping. class three, at least--possibly a two." "how about screens down enough to lep, boss?" belle suggested. "faster. we may need it." "check. i'm too busy to record, anyway--i'll log this stuff up tonight," and thoughts flew. "check me, jim," garlock flashed. "telepathy, very good. on gunther, the guy was right--no signs at all of any first activity, and very few seconds." "check," james agreed. "and lola, those 'guardians' out there. i thought they were the same as the arpalone we talked to. they aren't. not even telepathic. same color scheme, is all." "right. much more brutish. much flatter cranium. long, tearing canine teeth. carnivorous. i'll call them just 'guardians' until we find out what they really are." * * * the press car arrived and the tellurians disembarked--and, accidentally or not, it was belle's green slipper that first touched ground. there was a terrific babel of thought, worse, even, than voices in similar case, in being so much faster. the reporters, all of them, wanted to know everything at once. how, what, where, when, and why. also who. and all about tellus and the tellurian solar system. how did the visitors like hodell? and all about belle's green hair. and the photographers were prodigal of film, shooting everything from all possible angles. "hold it!" garlock loosed a blast of thought that "silenced" almost the whole field. "we will have order, please. lola montandon, our anthropologist, will take charge. keep it orderly, lola, if you have to throw half of them off the field. i'm going over to administration and check in. one of you reporters can come with me, if you like." the man in the purple shirt got his bid in first. as the two men walked away together, garlock noted that the man was in fact a second--his flow of lucid, cogent thought did not interfere at all with the steady stream of speech going into his portable recorder. garlock also noticed that in any group of more than a dozen people there was always at least one guardian. they paid no attention whatever to the people, who in turn ignored them completely. garlock wondered briefly. guardians? the arpalones, out in space, yes. but these creatures, naked and unarmed on the ground? the arpalones were non-human people. these things were--what? at the door of the field office the reporter, after turning garlock over to a startlingly beautiful, leggy, breasty, blonde receptionist-usherette, hurried away. * * * he flecked a feeler at her mind and stiffened. how could a two--a high two, at that--be working as an usher? and with her guard down clear to the floor? he probed--and saw. "lola!" he flashed a tight-beamed thought. "you aren't putting out anything about our sexual customs, family life, and so on." "of course not. we must know their mores first." "good girl. keep your shield up." "oh, we're so glad to see you, captain garlock, sir!" the blonde, who was dressed little more heavily than the cigarette girls in venusberg's cartier room, seized his left hand in both of hers and held it considerably longer than was necessary. her dazzling smile, her laughing eyes, her flashing white teeth, the many exposed inches of her skin, and her completely unshielded mind; all waved banners of welcome. "captain garlock, sir, governor atterlin has been most anxious to see you ever since you were first detected. this way, please, sir." she turned, brushing her bare hip against his leg in the process, and led him by the hand along a hallway. her thoughts flowed. "i have been, too, sir, and i'm simply delighted to see you close up, and i hope to see a lot more of you. you're a wonderfully pleasant surprise, sir; i've never seen a man like you before. i don't think hodell ever saw a man like you before, sir. with such a really terrific mind and yet so big and strong and well-built and handsome and clean-looking and blackish. you're wonderful, captain garlock, sir. you'll be here a long time, i hope? here we are, sir." she opened a door, walked across the room, sat down in an overstuffed chair, and crossed her legs meticulously. then, still smiling happily, she followed with eager eyes and mind garlock's every move. garlock had been reading governor atterlin; knew why it was the governor who was in that office instead of the port manager. he knew that atterlin had been reading him--as much as he had allowed. they had already discussed many things, and were still discussing. the room was much more like a library than an office. the governor, a middle-aged, red-headed man a trifle inclined to portliness, had been seated in a huge reclining chair facing a teevee screen, but got up to shake hands. "welcome, friend captain garlock. now, to continue. as to exchange. many ships visiting us have nothing we need or can use. for such, all services are free--or rather, are paid by the city. our currency is based upon platinum, but gold, silver, and copper are valuable. certain jewels, also...." "that's far enough. we will pay our way--we have plenty of metal. what are your ratios of value for the four metals here on hodell?" "today's quotations are...." he glanced at a screen, and his fingers flashed over the keys of a computer beside his chair. "one weight of platinum is equal in value to seven point three four six...." "decimals are not necessary, sir." "seven plus, then, weights of gold. one of gold to eleven of silver. one of silver to four of copper." "thank you. we'll use platinum. i'll bring some bullion tomorrow morning and exchange it for your currency. shall i bring it here, or to a bank in the city?" "either. or we can have an armored truck visit your ship." "that would be better yet. have them bring about five thousand tanes. thank you very much, governor atterlin, and good afternoon to you, sir." "and good afternoon to you, sir. until tomorrow, then." garlock turned to leave. "oh, may i go with you to your ship, sir, to take just a little look at it?" the girl asked, winningly. "of course, grand lady neldine, i'd like to have your company." she seized his elbow and hugged it quickly against her breast. then, taking his hand, she walked--almost skipped--along beside him. "and i want to see pilot james close up, too, sir--he's not nearly as wonderful as you are, sir--and i wonder why planetographer bellamy's hair is green? very striking, of course, sir, but i don't think i'd care for it much on me--unless you'd think i should, sir?" * * * belle knew, of course, that they were coming; and garlock knew that belle's hackles were very much on the rise. she could not read him, except very superficially, but she was reading the strange girl like a book and was not liking anything she read. wherefore, when garlock and his joyous companion reached the great spaceship-- "how come you picked up _that_ little man-eating shark?" she sent, venomously, on a tight band. "it wasn't a case of picking her up." garlock grinned. "i haven't been able to find any urbane way of scraping her off. first contact, you know." "she wants altogether too much contact for a first--i'll scrape her off, even if she is one of the nobler class on this world...." belle changed her tactics even before garlock began his reprimand. "i shouldn't have said that, clee, of course." she laughed lightly. "it was just the shock; there wasn't anything in any of my first contact tapes covering what to do about beautiful and enticing girls who try to seduce our men. she doesn't know, though, of course, that she's supposed to be a bug-eyed monster and not human at all. won't xenology be in for a rough ride when we check in? wow!" "you can play _that_ in spades, sister." and for the rest of the day belle played flawlessly the role of perfect hostess. it was full dark before the hodellians could be persuaded to leave the _pleiades_ and the locks were closed. * * * "i have refused one hundred seventy-eight invitations," lola reported then. "all of us, individually and collectively, have been invited to eat everything, everywhere in town. to see shows in a dozen different theaters and eighteen night spots. to dance all night in twenty-one different places, ranging from dives to strictly soup-and-fish. i was nice about it, of course--just begged off because we were dead from our belts both ways from our long, hard trip. my thought, of course, is that we'd better eat our own food and take it slowly at first. check, clee?" "on the beam, dead center. and you weren't lying much, either. i feel as though i'd done a day's work. after supper there's a thing i've got to discuss with all three of you." supper was soon over. then: "we've got to make a mighty important decision," garlock began, abruptly. "grand lady neldine--that title isn't exact, but close--wondered why i didn't respond at all, either way. however, she didn't make a point of it, and i let her wonder; but we'll have to decide by tomorrow morning what to do, and it'll have to be airtight. these hodellians expect jim and me to impregnate as many as possible of their highest-rated women before we leave. by their code it's mandatory, since we can't hide the fact that we rate much higher than they do--their highest rating is only grade two by our standards--and all the planets hereabouts up-grade themselves with the highest-grade new blood they can find. ordinarily, they'd expect you two girls to become pregnant by your choices of the top men of the planet; but they know you wouldn't breed down and don't expect you to. but how in all hell can jim and i refuse to breed them up without dealing out the deadliest insult they know?" there was a minute of silence. "we can't," james said then. a grin began to spread over his face. "it might not be too bad an idea, at that, come to think of it. that ball of fire they picked out for you would be a blue-ribbon dish in anybody's cook-book. and grand lady lemphi--" he kissed the tips of two fingers and waved them in the air. "strictly big league material; in capital letters." "is that nice, you back-alley tomcat?" belle asked, plaintively; then paused in thought and went on slowly, "i won't pretend to like it, but i won't do any public screaming about it." "any anthropologist would say you'll have to," lola declared without hesitation. "i don't like it, either. i think it's horrible; but it's excellent genetics and we cannot and must not violate systems-wide mores." "you're all missing the point!" garlock snapped. he got up, jammed his hands into his pockets, and began to pace the floor. "i didn't think any one of you was _that_ stupid! if _that_ was all there were to it we'd do it as a matter of course. but _think_, damn it! there's nothing higher than gunther two in the humanity of this planet. telepathy is the only esp they have. high gunther uses hitherto unused portions of the brain. it's transmitted through genes, which are dominant, cumulative, and self-multiplying by interaction. jim and i carry more, stronger, and higher gunther genes than any other two men known to live. can we--_dare_ we--plant such genes where none have ever been known before?" two full minutes of silence. "that one has _really_ got a bone in it," james said, unhelpfully. * * * three minutes more of silence. "it's up to you, lola," garlock said then. "it's your field." "i was afraid of that. there's a way. personally, i like it less even than the other, but it's the only one i've been able to think up. first, are you absolutely sure that our refusal--belle's and mine, i mean--to breed down will be valid with them?" "positive." "then the whole society from which we come will have to be strictly monogamous, in the narrowest, most literal sense of the term. no exceptions whatever. adultery, anything illicit, has always been not only unimaginable, but in fact impossible. we pair--or marry, or whatever they do here--once only. for life. desire and potency can exist only within the pair; never outside it. like eagles. if a man's wife dies, even, he loses all desire and all potency. that would make it physically impossible for you two to follow the hodellian code. you'd both be completely impotent with any women whatever except your mates--belle and me." "that will work," belle said. "_how_ it will work!" she paused. then, suddenly, she whistled; the loud, full-bodied, ear-piercing, tongue-and-teeth whistle which so few women ever master. her eyes sparkled and she began to laugh with unrestrained glee. "but do you know what you've done, lola?" "nothing, except to suggest a solution. what's so funny about that?" "you're wonderful, lola--simply priceless! you've created something brand-new to science--an impotent tomcat! and the more i think about it...." belle was rocking back and forth with laughter. she could not possibly talk, but her thought flowed on, "i just love you all to pieces! an _impotent tomcat_, and he'll _have_ to stay true to me--oh, this is simply _killing_ me--i'll _never_ live through it!" "it _does_ put us on the spot--especially jim," came garlock's thought. * * * he, too, began to laugh; and lola, as soon as she stopped thinking about the thing only as a problem in anthropology, joined in. james, however, did not think it was very funny. "and that's less than half of it!" belle went on, still unable to talk. "think of clee, lola. six two--over two hundred--hard as nails--a perfect hunk of hard red meat--telling this whole damn cockeyed region of space that he's impotent, too! and with a perfectly straight face! and it ties in so _beautifully_ with his making no response, yes or no, when she propositioned him. the poor, innocent, impotent lamb just simply didn't have even the faintest inkling of what she meant! oh, my...." "listen--_listen_--_listen_!" james managed finally to break in. "not that i want to be promiscuous, but...." "there, there, my precious little impotent tomcat," belle soothed him aloud, between giggles and snorts. "us earth-girls will take care of our lover-boys, see if we don't. you won't need any nasty little...." belle could not hold the pose, but went off again into whoops of laughter. "_what_ a brain you've got, lola! i thought i could imagine _anything_, but to make these two guys of ours--the two absolute tops of the whole solar system--it's a stroke of genius...." "shut up, will you, you human hyena, and _listen_!" james roared aloud. "there ought to be _some_ better way than that." "better? than sheer perfection?" belle was still laughing but could now talk coherently. "if you can think of another way, jim, the meeting is still open." garlock was wiping his eyes. "but it'll have to be a dilly. i'm not exactly enamored of lola's idea, either, but as the answer it's one hundred percent to as many decimal places as you want to take time to write zeroes." there was more talk, but no improvement could be made upon lola's idea. "well, we've got until morning," garlock said, finally. "if anybody comes up with anything by then, let me know. if not, it goes into effect the minute we open the locks. the meeting is adjourned." * * * belle and james left the room; and, a few minutes later, garlock went out. lola followed him into his room and closed the door behind her. she sat down on the edge of a chair, lighted a cigarette, and began to smoke in short, nervous puffs. she opened her mouth to say something, but shut it without making a sound. "you're afraid of me, lola?" he asked, quietly. "oh, i don't.... well, that is...." she wouldn't lie, and she wouldn't admit the truth. "you see, i've never ... i mean, i haven't had very much experience." "you needn't be afraid of me at all. i'm not going to pair with you." "you're not?" her mouth dropped open and the cigarette fell out of it. she took a few seconds to recover it. "why not? don't you think i could do a good enough job?" she stood up and stretched, to show her splendid figure to its best advantage. garlock laughed. "nothing like that, lola; you have plenty of sex appeal. it's just that i don't like the conditions. i never have paired. i never have had much to do with women, and that little has been urbane, logical, and strictly _en passant_; on the level of mutual physical desire. thus, i have never taken a virgin. pairing with one is very definitely not my idea of urbanity and there's altogether too much obligation to suit me. for all of which good reasons i am not going to pair with you, now or ever." "how do you know whether i'm a virgin or not? you've never read me that deep. nobody can. not even you, unless i let you." "reading isn't necessary--you flaunt it like a banner." "i don't know what you mean.... i certainly don't do it intentionally. but i ought to pair with you, clee!" lola had lost all of her nervousness, most of her fear. "it's part of the job i was chosen for. if i'd known, i'd've gone out and got some experience. really i would have." "i believe that. i think you would have been silly enough to have done just that. and you have a very high regard for your virginity, too, don't you?" "well, i ... i used to. but we'd better go ahead with it. i've _got_ to." "no such thing. permissible, but not obligatory." "but it was assumed. as a matter of course. anyway ... well, when that girl started making passes at you, i thought you could have just as much fun, or even more--she's charming; a real darling, isn't she?--without pairing with me, and then i had to open my big mouth and be the one to keep you from playing games with _anyone except_ me, and i certainly am not going to let you suffer...." "bunk!" garlock snorted. "sheer flapdoodle! pure psychological prop-wash, started and maintained by men who are either too weak to direct and control their drives or who haven't any real work to occupy their minds. it applies to many men, of course, possibly to most. it does not, however, apply to all, and, it lacks one whole hell of a lot of applying to me. does that make you feel better?" "oh, it does ... it does. thanks, clee. you know, i like you, a lot." "do you? kiss me." she did so. "see?" "you _tricked_ me!" * * * "i did not. i want you to see the truth and face it. your idealism is admirable, permanent, and shatter-proof; but your starry-eyed schoolgirl's mawkishness is none of the three. you'll have to grow up, some day. in my opinion, forcing yourself to give up one of your hardest-held ideals--virginity--merely because of the utter bilge that those idiot head-shrinkers stuffed you with, is sheer, plain idiocy. i suppose that makes you like me even less, but i'm laying it right on the line." "no ... more. i'll argue with you, when we have time, about some of your points, but the last one--if it's valid--has tremendous force. i didn't know men felt that way. but no matter what my feeling for you really is, i'm really grateful to you for the reprieve ... and you know, clee, i'm pretty sure you're going to get us back home. if anyone can, you can." "i'm going to try to. even if i can't, it will be belle, not you, that i'll take for the long pull. and not because you'd rather have jim--which you would, of course...." "to be honest, i think i would." "certainly. he's your type. you're not mine; belle is. well, that buttons it up, brownie, except for one thing. to jim and belle and everyone else, we're paired." "of course. urbanity, as well as to present a united front to any and all worlds." "check. so watch your shield." "i always do. that stuff is 'way, 'way down. i'm awfully glad you called me 'brownie,' clee. i didn't think you ever would." "i didn't expect to--but i never talked to a woman this way before, either. maybe it had a mellowing effect." "you don't _need_ mellowing--i do like you a lot, just exactly as you are." "if true, i'm very glad of it. but don't strain yourself; and i mean that literally, not as sarcasm." "i know. i'm not straining a bit, and this'll prove it." she kissed him again, and this time it was a production. "that was an eminently convincing demonstration, brownie, but don't do it too often." "i won't." she laughed, gayly and happily. "if there's any next time, you'll have to kiss me first." she paused and sobered. "but remember. if you should change your mind, any time you really want to ... to kiss me, come right in. i won't be as silly and nervous and afraid as i was just now. that's a promise. good night, clee." "good night, brownie." chapter next morning, garlock was the last one, by a fraction of a minute, into the main. "good morning, all," he said, with a slight smile. "huh? how come?" james demanded, as all four started toward the dining nook. garlock's smile widened. "lola. she brought me a pot of coffee and wouldn't let me out until i drank it." "_brought?_" "yeah. they haven't read their room-tapes yet, so they don't know that room-service is practically unlimited." "why didn't i think of that coffee business a couple of years ago?" "well, why didn't i think of it myself, ten years ago?" belle's eyes had been going from one, man to the other. "just _what_ are you two talking about? if it's anybody's business except your own?" "he is an early-morning grouch," james explained, as they sat down at the table. "not fit to associate with man or beast--not even his own dog, if he had one--when he first gets up. how come you were smart enough to get the answer so quick, brownie?" "oh, the pattern isn't too rare." she shrugged daintily, sweeping the compliment aside. "especially among men on big jobs who work under tremendous pressure." "then how about jim?" belle asked. "clee's the big brain, not me," james said. "you're a lot bigger brain than any of the men lola's talking about," belle insisted. "that's true," lola agreed, "but jim probably is--must be--an icebox raider. eats in the middle of the night. clee probably doesn't. it's a good bet that he doesn't nibble between meals at all. check, clee?" "check. but what has an empty stomach got to do with the case?" "everything. nobody knows how. lots of theories--enzymes, blood sugar, endocrine balance, what have you--but no proof. it isn't always true. however, six or seven hours of empty stomach, in a man who takes his job to bed with him, is very apt to uglify his pre-breakfast disposition." breakfast over and out in the main: "but when a man's disposition is ugly all the time, how can you tell the difference?" belle asked, innocently. "i'll let that pass," garlock's smile disappeared, "because we've got work to do. have any of you thought of any improvement on lola's monogamous society?" no one had. in fact-- "there may be a loop-hole in it," lola said, thoughtfully. "did any of you happen to notice whether they know anything about artificial insemination?" "d'you think i'd stand for _that_?" belle blazed, before garlock could begin to search his mind. "i'd scratch anybody's eyes out--if you'd thought of that idea as a woman instead of as a near-ph.d. in anthropology you'd've thrown it into the converter before it even hatched!" "invasion of privacy? that covers it, of course, but i didn't think it would bother you a bit." lola paused, studying the other girl intently. "you're quite a problem yourself. callous--utterly savage humor--yet very sensitive in some ways--fastidious...." "i'm not on the table for dissection!" belle snapped. "study me all you please, but keep the notes in your notebook. i'd suggest you study clee." "oh, i have been. he baffles me, too. i'm not very good yet, you...." "that's the unders...." "_cut_ it!" garlock ordered, sharply. "i said we had work to do. jim, you're hunting up the nearest observatory." "how about transportation? no teleportation?" "out. rent a car or hire a plane, or both. fill your wallet--better have too much money than not enough. if you're too far away tonight to make it feasible to come back here, send me a flash. brownie, you'll work this town first. belle and i will have to work in the library for a while. we'll all want to compare notes tonight...." "yeah," james said into the pause, "i could tune in remote, but i don't know where i'll be, so it might not be so good." "check. you can 'port, but be _damn_ sure nobody sees or senses you doing it. that buttons it up, i guess." * * * james and lola left the ship; garlock and belle went into the library. "if i didn't know you were impotent, clee," belle shivered affectedly and began to laugh, "i'd be scared to death to be alone with you in this great big spaceship. lola hasn't realized yet what she really hatched out--the screamingest screamer ever pulled on anybody!" "it isn't _that_ funny. you have got a savage sense of humor." "perhaps." she shrugged her shoulders. "but you were on the receiving end, which makes a big difference. she's a peculiar sort of duck. brainy, but impersonal--academic. she knows all the words and all their meanings, all the questions and all the answers, but she doesn't apply any of them to herself. she's always the observer, never the participant. pure egg-head ... pure? _that's_ it. she looks, acts, talks, and thinks like a _virgin_.... well, if that's all, she isn't any--or is she? even though you've started calling her 'brownie,' like my now-tamed tomcat, you might not...." she stared at him. "go ahead. probe." "why waste energy trying to crack a prime's shield? but just out of curiosity, are you two pairing, or not?" "tut-tut; don't be inurbane. let's talk about jim instead. i thought he'd be gibbering." "no, i'm working under double wraps--full dampers. i don't want him in love with me. you want to know why?" "i think i know why." "because having him mooning around underfoot would weaken the team and i want to get back to tellus." "i was wrong, then. i thought you were out after bigger game." belle's face went stiff and still. "what do you mean by that?" "plain enough, i would think. wherever you are, you've got to be the boss. you've never been in any kind of a party for fifteen minutes without taking it over. when you snap the whip everybody jumps--or else--and you swing a wicked knife. for your information i don't jump, i am familiar with knives, and you will never run this project or any part of it." * * * belle's face set; her eyes hardened. "while we're putting out information, take note that i'm just as good with actual knives as with figurative ones. if you're still thinking of blistering my fanny, don't try it. you'll find a rawhide haft sticking up out of one of those muscles you're so proud of--clear enough mr. garlock." "why don't you talk sense, instead of such yak-yak?" "huh?" "i know you're a prime, too, but don't let it go to your head. i've got more stuff than you have, so you can't gunther me. you weigh one thirty-five to my two seventeen. i'm harder, stronger, and faster than you are. you're probably a bit limberer--not too much--but i've forgotten more judo than you ever will know. so what's the answer?" belle was breathing hard. "then why don't you do it right now?" "several reasons. i couldn't brag much about licking anybody i outweigh by eighty-two pounds. i can't figure out your logic--if any--but i'm pretty sure now it wouldn't do either of us any good. just the opposite." "from your standpoint, would that be bad?" "what a _hell_ of a logic! you have got the finest brain of any woman living. you're stronger than jim is by a lot more than the prime-to-operator ratio--you've got more initiative, more drive, more guts. you know as well as i do what your brain may mean before we get back. why in all hell don't you start _using_ it?" "_you_ are complimenting _me_?" "no. it's the truth, isn't it?" "what difference does that make? clee garlock, i simply can't understand you at all." "that makes it mutual. i can't understand a geometry in which the crookedest line between any two given points is the best line. let's get to work, shall we?" "uh-huh, let's. one more bit of information, though, first. any such idea as taking the project away from you simply _never_ entered my mind!" she gave him a warm and friendly smile as she walked over to the file-cabinets. for hours, then, they worked; each scanning tape after tape. at mid-day they ate a light lunch. shortly thereafter, garlock put away his reader and all his loose tapes. "are you getting anywhere, belle? i'm not making any progress." "yes, but of course planets are probably pretty much the same everywhere--tellus-type ones, i mean, of course. is all the xenology as cockeyed as i'm afraid it must be?" "check. the one basic assumption was that there are no human beings other than tellurians. from that they derive the secondary assumption that humanoid types will be scarce. from there they scatter out in all directions. so i'll have to roll my own. i've got to see atterlin, anyway. i'll be back for supper. so long." * * * at the port office, grand lady neldine met him even more enthusiastically than before; taking both his hands and pressing them against her firm, almost-bare breasts. she tried to hold back as garlock led her along the corridor. "i have an explanation, and in a sense an apology, for you, grand lady neldine, and for you, governor atterlin," he thought carefully. "i would have explained yesterday, but i had no understanding of the situation here until our anthropologist, lola montandon, elucidated it very laboriously to me. she herself, a scientist highly trained in that specialty, could grasp it only by referring back to somewhat similar situations which may have existed in the remote past--so remote a past that the concept is known only to specialists and is more than half mythical, even to them." he went on to give in detail the sexual customs, obligations, and limitations of lola's purely imaginary civilization. "then it isn't that you don't want to, but you _can't_?" the lady asked, incredulously. "mentally, i can have no desire. physically, the act is impossible," he assured her. "what a shame!" her thought was a peculiar mixture of disappointment and relief: disappointment in that she was not to bear this man's super-child; relief in that, after all, she had not personally failed--if she couldn't have this perfectly wonderful man herself, no other woman except his wife could ever have him, either. but what a shame to waste such a man as that on _any_ one woman! it was really too bad. "i see ... i see--wonderful!" atterlin's thought was not at all incredulous, but vastly awed. "it is of course logical that as the power of mind increases, physical matters become less and less important. but you will have much to give us; we may perhaps have some small things to give you. if we could visit your tellus, perhaps...?" "that also is impossible. we four in the _pleiades_ are lost in space. this is the first planet we have visited on our first trial of a new method--new to us, at least--of interstellar travel. we missed our objective, probably by many millions of parsecs, and it is quite possible that we four will never be able to find our way back. we are trying now, by charting the galaxies throughout billions of cubic parsecs of space, to find merely the direction in which our own galaxy lies." "what a concept! what stupendous minds! but such immense distances, sir ... what can you possibly be using for a space-drive?" "none, as you understand the term. we travel by instantaneous translation, by means of something we call 'gunther'.... i am not at all sure that i can explain it to you satisfactorily, but i will try to do so, if you wish." "please do so, sir, by all means." * * * garlock opened the highest gunther cells of his mind. there was nothing as elementary as telepathy, teleportation, telekinesis, or the like; it was the pure, raw gunther of the gunther drive, which even he himself made no pretense of understanding fully. he opened those cells and pushed that knowledge at the two hodellian minds. the result was just as instantaneous and just as catastrophic as garlock had expected. both blocks went up almost instantly. "oh, no!" atterlin exclaimed, his face turning white. the girl shrieked once, covered her face with her hands, and collapsed on the floor. "oh, i'm _so_ sorry ... excuse my ignorance, please!" garlock implored, as he picked the girl up, carried her across the room to a sofa, and assured himself that she had not been really hurt. she recovered quickly. "i'm very sorry, grand lady neldine and governor atterlin, but i didn't know ... that is, i didn't realize...." "you are trying to break it gently." atterlin was both shocked and despondent. "this being the first planet you have visited, you simply did not realize how feeble our minds really are." "oh, not at all, really, sir and lady." garlock began deftly to repair the morale he had shattered. "merely younger. with your system of genetics, so much more logical and efficient than our strict monogamy, your race will undoubtedly make more progress in a few centuries than we made in many millennia. and in a few centuries more you will pass us--will master this only partially-known gunther drive. "esthetically, lady neldine, i would like very much to father you a child." he allowed his coldly unmoved gaze to survey her charms. "i am sorry indeed that it cannot be. i trust that you, governor atterlin, will be kind enough to spread word of our physical shortcomings, and so spare us further embarrassment?" "not shortcomings, sir, and, i truly hope, no embarrassment," atterlin protested. "we are immensely glad to have seen you, since your very existence gives us so much hope for the future. i will spread word, and every hodellian will do whatever he can to help you in your quest." "thank you, sir and lady," and garlock took his leave. "what an act, my male-looking but impotent darling!" came belle's clear, incisive thought, bubbling with unrestrained merriment. "for our doctor garlock, the prime exponent and first disciple of truth, _what_ an act! _esthetically_, he'd like to father her a child, it says here in fine print--boy, if she only knew! one tiny grain of truth and she'd chase you from here to andromeda! clee, i _swear_ this thing is going to kill me yet!" "anything that would do that i'm very much in favor of!" garlock growled the thought and snapped up his shield. this one was, quite definitely, belle's round. * * * garlock took the hodellian equivalent of a bus to the center of the city, then set out aimlessly to walk. the buildings and their arrangement, he noted--not much to his surprise now--were not too different from those of the cities of earth. with his guard down to about the sixth level, highly receptive but not at all selective, he strolled up one street and down another. he was not attentive to detail yet; he was trying to get the broad aspects, the "feel" of this hitherto unknown civilization. the ether was practically saturated with thought. apparently this was the afternoon rush hour, as the sidewalks were crowded with people and the streets were full of cars. it did not seem as though anyone, whether in the buildings, on the sidewalks, or in the cars, was doing any blocking at all. if there were any such things as secrets on hodell, they were scarce. each person, man, woman, or child, went about his own business, radiating full blast. no one paid any attention to the thoughts of anyone else except in the case of couples or groups, the units of which were engaged in conversation. it reminded garlock of a big tellurian party when the punch-bowls were running low--everybody talking at the top of his voice and nobody listening. this whole gale of thought was blowing over garlock's receptors like a great plains wind over miles-wide fields of corn. he did not address anyone directly; no one addressed him. at first, quite a few young women, at sight of his unusual physique, had sent out tentative feelers of thought; and some men had wondered, in the same tentative and indirect fashion, who he was and where he came from. however, when the information he had given atterlin spread throughout the city--and it did not take long--no one paid any more attention to him than they did to each other. probing into and through various buildings, he learned that groups of people were quitting work at intervals of about fifteen minutes. there were thoughts of tidying up desks; of letting the rest of this junk go until tomorrow; of putting away and/or covering up office machines of various sorts. there were thoughts of powdering noses and of repairing make-up. he pulled in his receptors and scanned the crowded ways for guardians--he'd have to call them that until either he or lola found out their real name. same as at the airport--the more people, the more guardians. what were they? how? and why? * * * he probed; carefully but thoroughly. when he had talked to the arpalone he had read him easily enough, but here there was nothing whatever to read. the creature simply was not thinking at all. but that didn't make sense! garlock tuned, first down, then up; and finally, at the very top of his range, he found something, but he did not at first know what it was. it seemed to be a mass-detector ... no, two of them, paired and balanced. oh, that was it! one tuned to humanity, one to the other guardians--balanced across a sort of bridge--_that_ was how they kept the ratio so constant! but why? there seemed to be some wide-range receptors there, too, but nothing seemed to be coming in.... while he was still studying and still baffled, some kind of stimulus, which was so high and so faint and so alien that he could neither identify nor interpret it, touched the arpalone's far-flung receptors. instantly the creature jumped, his powerful, widely-bowed legs sending him high above the heads of the crowd and, it seemed to garlock, directly toward him. simultaneously there was an insistent, low-pitched, whistling scream, somewhat like the noise made by an airplane in a no-power dive; and garlock saw, out of the corner of one eye, a yellowish something flashing downward through the air. at the same moment the woman immediately in front of garlock stifled a scream and jumped backward, bumping into him and almost knocking him down. he staggered, caught his balance, and automatically put his arm around his assailant, to keep her from falling to the sidewalk. * * * in the meantime the guardian, having landed very close to the spot the woman had occupied a moment before, leaped again; this time vertically upward. the thing, whatever it was, was now braking frantically with wings, tail, and body; trying madly to get away. too late. there was a bone-crushing impact as the two bodies came together in mid-air; a jarring thud as the two creatures, inextricably intertwined, struck the pavement as one. the thing varied in color, garlock now saw, shading from bright orange at the head to pale yellow at the tail. it had a savagely-tearing curved beak; tremendously powerful wings; its short, thick legs ended in hawk-like talons. the guardian's bowed legs had already immobilized the yellow wings by clamping them solidly against the yellow body. his two lower arms were holding the frightful talons out of action. his third hand gripped the orange throat, his fourth was exerting tremendous force against the jointure of neck and body. the neck, originally short, was beginning to stretch. for several seconds garlock had been half-conscious that his accidental companion was trying, with more and more energy, to disengage his encircling left arm from her waist. he wrenched his attention away from the spectacular fight--to which no one else, not even the near-victim, had paid the slightest attention--and now saw that he had his arm around the bare waist of a statuesque matron whose entire costume would have made perhaps half of a tellurian sun-suit. he dropped his arm with a quick and abject apology. "i should apologize to you instead, captain garlock," she thought, with a wide and friendly smile, "for knocking you down, and i thank you for catching me before i fell. i should not have been startled, of course. i would not have been, except that this is the first time that i, personally, have been attacked." "but what _are_ they?" garlock blurted. "i don't know." the woman turned her head and glanced, in complete disinterest, at the two furiously-battling creatures. garlock knew now that this was the first time, except for that instantly-dismissed thrill of surprise at being the actual target of an attack, that she had thought of either of them. "orange-yellow? it could be a ... a fumapty, perhaps, but i've no idea, really. you see, such things are none of our business." she thought at him, a half-shrug, half-grimace of mild distaste--not at the personal contact with the man nor at the savage duel; but at even thinking of either the guardian or the yellow monster--and walked away into the crowd. garlock's attention flashed back to the fighters. the yellow thing's neck had been stretched to twice its natural length and the guardian had _eaten_ almost through it. there was a terrific crunch, a couple of smacking, gobbling swallows, and head parted from body. the orange beak still clashed open and shut, however, and the body still thrashed violently. shifting his grips, the guardian proceeded to tear a hole into his victim's body, just below its breast-bone. thrusting two arms into the opening, he yanked out two organs--one of which, garlock thought, could have been the heart--and ate them both; if not with extreme gusto, at least in a workmanlike and thoroughly competent fashion. he then picked up the head in one hand, grabbed the tip of a wing with another, and marched up the street for half a block, dragging the body behind him. he lifted a manhole cover with his two unoccupied hands, dropped the remains down the hole thus exposed, and let the cover slam back into place. he then squatted down, licked himself meticulously clean with a long, black, extremely agile tongue, and went on about his enigmatic business quite as though nothing had happened. garlock strolled around a few minutes longer, but could not recapture any interest in the doings of the human beings around him. he had filed away every detail of what had just happened, and it had so many bizarre aspects that he could not think of anything else. wherefore he flagged down a "taxi" and was taken out to the _pleiades_. belle and lola were in the main. * * * "i saw the _damndest_ thing, clee!" lola exclaimed. "i've been gnawing my fingernails off up to the knuckles, waiting for you!" lola's experience had been very similar to garlock's own, except in that her monster was an intense green in color and looked something like a bat about four feet long, with six-inch canine teeth and several stingers.... "did you find out the name of the thing?" garlock asked. "no. i asked half-a-dozen people, but nobody would even listen to me except one half-grown boy, and the best he could do was that it might be something he had heard another boy say somebody had told him might be a 'lemart.' and as to those lower-case arpalones, the best i could dig out of anybody was just 'guardians.' did you do any better?" "no, i didn't do as well," and he told the girls about his own experience. "but i didn't find any detectors or receptors, clee," lola frowned. "where were they?" "'way up--up here," he showed her. "i'll make a full tape tonight on everything i found out about the guardians and the arpalones--besides my regular report, i mean--since they're yours, and you can make me one about your friend the green bat...." * * * "hey, i _like_ that!" belle broke in. "that _could_ be taken amiss, you know, by such a sensitive soul as i!" "check." garlock chuckled. "i'll have to file that one, in case i want to use it sometime. how're you coming, belle?" "nice!" belle's voracious mind had been so busy absorbing new knowledge that she had temporarily forgotten about her fight with her captain. "i'm just about done here. i'll be ready tomorrow, i think, to visit their library and tape up some planetological and planetographical--notice how insouciantly i toss off those two-credit words?--data on this here planet hodell." "good going. you've been listening to this stuff lola and i were chewing on--does any of it make sense to you?" "it does not. i never heard anything to compare with it." "excuse me for changing the subject," lola put in, plaintively, "but when, if ever, do we eat? do we _have_ to wait until that confounded james boy gets back from wherever it was he went?" "if you're hungry, we'll eat now." "_hungry?_ look!" lola turned herself sidewise, placed one hand in the small of her back, and pressed hard with the other her flat, taut belly. "see? only a couple of inches from belt-buckle to backbone--dangerously close to the point of utter collapse." "you poor, abused little thing!" garlock laughed and all three crossed the room to the dining alcove. while they were still ordering, james appeared beside them. "find out anything?" garlock asked. "yes and no. yes, in that they have an excellent observatory, with a hundred-eighty-inch reflector, on a mountain only seventy-five miles from here. no, in that i didn't find any duplication of nebulary configurations with the stuff i had with me. however, it was relatively coarse. tomorrow i'll take a lot of fine stuff along. it'll take some time--a full day, at least." "i expected that. good going, jim!" all four ate heartily, and, after eating, they taped up the day's reports. then, tired from their first real day's work in weeks, all went to their rooms. * * * a few minutes later, garlock tapped lightly at lola's door. "come in." she stiffened involuntarily, then relaxed and smiled. "oh, yes, clee: of course. you're...." "no, i'm not. i've been doing a lot of thinking about you since last night, and i may have come up with an answer or two. also, belle knows we aren't pairing, and if we don't hide behind a screen at least once in a while, she'll know we aren't going to." "screen?" "screen. didn't you know these four private rooms are solid? haven't you read your house-tape yet?" "no. but do you think belle would actually peek?" "do you think she wouldn't?" "well, i don't like her very much, but i wouldn't think she would do anything like that, clee. it isn't urbane." "she isn't urbane, either, whenever she thinks it might be advantageous not to be." "what a _terrible_ thing to say!" "take it from me, if belle bellamy doesn't know everything that goes on it isn't from lack of trying. you wouldn't know about room service, either, then--better scan that tape before you go to sleep tonight--what'll you have in the line of a drink to while away enough time so she will know we've been playing games?" "ginger ale, please." "i'll have ginger beer. you do it like so." he slid a panel aside, his fingers played briefly on a typewriter-like keyboard. drinks and ice appeared. "anything you want--details of the tape." he lighted two cigarettes, handed her one, stirred his drink. "now, fair lady--or should i say beauteous dark lady?--we will follow the precept of that immortal chinese philosopher, chin on." "you _are_ a prime operator, aren't you?" she laughed, but sobered quickly. "i'm worried. you said i flaunted virginity like a banner, and now belle.... what am i doing wrong?" "there's a lot wrong. not so much what you're doing as what you aren't doing. you're too aloof--detached--egg-headish. you know the score, words and music, but you don't sing. all you do is listen. belle thinks you're not only a physical virgin, but a psychic-blocked prude. i know better. you're so full of conflict between what you want to do--what you know is right--and what those three-cell-brained nincompoops made you think you ought to do that you have got no more degrees of freedom than a piston-rod. you haven't been yourself for a minute since you came aboard. check?" "you _have_ been thinking, haven't you? you may be right; except that it's been longer than that ... ever since the first preliminaries, i think. but what can i _do_ about it, clee?" "contact. three-quarters full, say; enough for me to give you what i think is the truth." "but you said you _never_ went screens down with a woman?" "there's a first time for everything. come in." * * * she did so, held contact for almost a minute, then pulled herself loose. "ug-gh-gh." she shivered. "i'm glad i haven't got a mind like that." "and the same from me to you. of course the real truth may lie somewhere in between. i may be as far off the beam on one side as you are on the other." "i hope so. but it cleared things up no end--it untied a million knots. even that other thing--brotherly love? it's a very nice concept--you see, i never had any brothers." "that's probably one thing that was the matter with you. nothing warmer than that, certainly, and never will be." "and i suppose you got the thought--it must have jumped up and smacked you--" lola's hot blush was visible even through her heavy tan, "how many times i've felt like running my fingers up and down your ribs and grabbing a handful of those terrific muscles of yours, just to see if they're as hard as they look?" "i'm glad you brought that up; i don't know whether i would have dared to or not. you've got to stop acting like a third instead of an operator; and you've got to stop acting as though you had never been within ten feet of me. now's as good a time as any." he took off his shirt and struck a strong-man's pose. "come ahead." "by golly, i'm _going_ to!" then, a moment later, "why, they're even _harder_! how do you, a scientist, psionicist, and scholar, keep in such hard shape as that?" "an hour a day in the gym, three hundred sixty-five days a year. many are better--but a hell of a lot are worse." "i'll say." she finished her ginger ale, sat down in her chair, leaned back and put her legs up on the bed. "that was a relief of tension if there ever was one. i haven't felt so good since they picked me as home-town candidate--and that was a mighty small town and eight months ago. bring on your dragons, clee, and i'll slay 'em far and wide. but i can't actually _be_ like she is...." "thank god for that. deliver me from _two_ such pretzel-benders aboard one ship." "... but i could have been a pretty good actress, i think." "correction, please. 'outstanding' is the word." "thank you, kind sir. and women--men, too, of course--do bring up certain memories, to ... to...." "to roll 'em around on their tongues and give their taste-buds a treat." "exactly. so where i don't have any appropriate actual memories to bring up, i'll make like an actress. check?" "good girl! now you're rolling--we're in like flynn. well, we've been in screen long enough, i guess. fare thee well, little sister brownie, until we meet again." he tossed the remains of their refreshments, trays and all, into the chute, picked up his shirt, and started out. "put it _on_, clee!" she whispered, intensely. "why?" he grinned cheerfully. "it'd look still better if i peeled down to the altogether." "you're incorrigible," she said, but her answering grin was wide and perfectly natural. "you know, if i had had a brother something like you it would have saved me a lot of wear and tear. i'll see you in the morning before breakfast." * * * and she did. they strolled together to breakfast; not holding hands, but with hip almost touching hip. relaxed, friendly, on very cordial and satisfactory terms. lola punched breakfast orders for them both. belle drove a probe, which bounced--lola's screen was tight, although her brown eyes were innocent and bland. but during the meal, in response to a double-edged, wickedly-barbed remark of belle's, a memory flashed into being above lola's shield. it was the veriest flash, instantly suppressed. her eyes held clear and steady; if she blushed at all it did not show. belle caught it, of course, and winked triumphantly at garlock. she knew, now, what she had wanted to know. and, prime operator though he was, it was all he could do to make no sign; for that fleetingly-revealed memory was a perfect job. he would not have--_could_ not have--questioned it himself, except for one highly startling fact. it was of an event that had not happened and never would! and after breakfast, at some distance from the others, "that is my girl, brownie! you're firing on all forty barrels. you're an operator, all right; and it takes a damn good one to lie like that with her mind!" "thanks to you, clee. and thanks a million, really. i'm me again--i think." then, since belle was looking, she took him by both ears, pulled his head down, and kissed him lightly on the lips. the spontaneity and tenderness were perfect at that moment. clee's appreciation was obvious. "i know i said you'd have to kiss me next time," lola said, very low, "but this act needs just this much of an extra touch. anyway, such little, tiny, sisterly ones as this, and out in public, don't count." chapter lola and garlock went to town in the same taxi. as they were about to separate, garlock said: "i don't like those hell-divers, yellow, green, or any other color; and you, brownie, are very definitely not expendable. are you any good at mind-bombing?" "why, i never heard of such a thing." "you isolate a little energy in the op field, remembering of course, that you're handling a hundred thousand gunts. transpose it into platinum or uranium--anything good and heavy. for one of these monsters you'd need two or three micrograms. for a battleship, up to maybe a gram or so. 'port it to the exact place you want it to detonate. reconvert and release instantaneously. one-hundred-percent-conversion atomic bomb, tailored exactly to fit the job. very effective." "it would be. my god, clee, can _you_ do _that_?" "sure--so can you. any operator can." "well, i _won't_. i _never_ will. besides, i'd probably kill too many people, besides the monster. no, i'll 'port back to the main if anything attacks me. i'm chain lightning at that." "do that, then. and if anything very unusual happens give me a flash." "i'll do that. 'bye, clee." she turned to the left. he walked straight on, toward the business center, to resume his study at the point where he had left off the evening before. for over an hour he wandered aimlessly about the city; receiving, classifying, and filing away information. he saw several duels between guardians and yellow and green-bat monsters, to none of which he paid any more attention than did the people around him. then a third kind of enemy appeared--two of them at once, flying wing-and-wing--and garlock stopped and watched. vivid, clear-cut stripes of red and black, even on the tremendously long, strong wings. distinctly feline as to heads, teeth, and claws. while they did not at all closely resemble flying saber-toothed tigers, that was the first impression that leaped into garlock's mind. two bow-legged guardians came leaping as usual, but one of them was a fraction of a second too late. that fraction was enough. while the first guardian was still high in air, grappling with one tiger, the other swung on a dime--the blast of air from his right wing blowing people in the crowd below thither and yon and knocking four of them flat--and took the guardian's head off his body with one savage swipe of a frightfully-armed paw. disregarding the carcass both attackers whirled sharply at the second guardian, meeting him in such fashion that he could not come to firm grips with either of them, and that battle was very brief indeed. more and more guardians were leaping in from all directions, however, and the two tigers were forced to the ground and slaughtered. since six guardians had been killed, eight guardians marched up the street, dragging grisly loads. eight bodies, friend and foe alike, were dumped into a manhole; eight creatures squatted down and cleaned themselves meticulously before resuming their various patrols. * * * ten or fifteen minutes later, garlock felt lola's half-excited, half-frightened thought. "clee, do you read me?" "loud and clear." "there's something coming that's certainly none of my business--maybe not even yours." "coming," and with the thought he was there. "where?" she pointed a thought, he followed it. far away yet, but coming fast, was an immense flock of flying tigers! lola licked her lips. "i'm going home, if you don't mind." "beat it." she disappeared. "jim!" garlock thought. "where are you?" "observatory. need me?" "yes. bombing. two point four microgram loads. focus spot on my right--teleport in." "coming in on your right." "and i on your left!" belle's thought drove in as he had never before felt it driven. being a prime, she did not need a focus spot and appeared the veriest instant later than did james. "can you bomb?" garlock snapped. "what do _you_ think?" she snapped back. a moment of flashing thought and the three tellurians disappeared, materializing five hundred feet in air, two hundred feet ahead of the van of that horrible flight of monsters, drifting before it. belle got in the first shot. not only did the victim disappear--a couple of dozen around it were torn to fragments and the force of the blast staggered all three tellurians. "damn it, belle, cut down or get to hell out!" garlock yelped. "i said two point four _micrograms_, not milligrams. just kill 'em, don't scatter 'em all over hell's half acre--less mess to clean up and i _don't_ want you to kill people down below. especially i don't want you to kill us--not even yourself." "'scuse, please, i guess i was a bit enthusiastic in my weighing." there began a series of muffled explosions along the front; each followed by the plunge of a tiger-striped body to the ground. faster and faster the explosions came as the operator and the primes learned the routine and the rhythm of the job. nor were they long alone. the roaring, screaming howl of jets came up from behind them; four arpalones appeared at their left, strung out along the front. each held an extraordinarily heavy-duty blaster in each of his four hands; sixteen terrific weapons were hurling death into the flying horde. "slide over, terrestrials," came a calm thought. "you three take their left front, we'll take their right and center." as they obeyed the instructions, "_they_ don't give a damn where the pieces fly!" belle protested. "why should we be fussy about their street-cleaning department? _i'm_ starting to use fives." "okay. we'll have to hit 'em harder, anyway, to keep up. five or maybe six--just be damn sure not to knock us or the arpalones out of the air." carnage went on. the battle-front, while inside the city limits, was now almost stationary. "ha! help--i hear footsteps approaching on jet-back," garlock announced. "give 'em hell, boys--shovel on the coal!" * * * a flight of fighter-planes, eight abreast and wing-tips almost touching, howled close overhead and along the line of invasion. they could not fire, of course, until they reached the city limits. there they opened up as one, and the air below became literally filled with falling monsters. some had only broken wings; some were dead, but more or less whole; many were blown to unrecognizable bits and scraps of flesh. another flight screamed into place immediately behind the first; then another and another and another until six flights had passed. then came four helicopters, darting and hovering, whose gunners picked off individually whatever survivors had managed to escape all six waves of fighters. "that's better," came a thought from the arpalone nearest garlock. "situation under control, thanks to you tellurians. supposed to be two squads of us gunners, but the other squad was busy on another job. without you, this could have developed into a fairly nasty little infection. i don't know what you're doing or how you're doing it--we were told that you weren't like any other humans, and how true _that_ is--but i'm in favor of it. i thought there were four of you?" "one of us is not a fighter." "oh. you can knock off now, if you like. we'll polish off. thanks much." "but don't the boys on the ground need some help?" "the arpales? those idiots you have been thinking of as 'guardians'? which they are, of course. uh-uh. besides, we're air-fighters. ground work is none of our business. also, these guns would raise altogether too much hell down there. bound to hit some humans." "check. those arpales aren't very intelligent, you arpalones are extremely so. any connection?" "'way back, they say. common ancestry, and doing two parts of the same job. killing these fumapties and lemarts and sencors and what-have-you. i don't know what humanity's job is and don't give a damn. probably fairly important, some way or other, though, since it's our job to see that the silly, gutless things keep on living. we have nothing to do with 'em, ever. the only reason i'm talking to you is you're not really human at all. you're a fighter, too, and a damn good one." "i know what you mean," and the three tellurians turned their attention downward to the scene on the ground. * * * the heaviest fighting had been over a large park at the city's edge, which was now literally a shambles. very few people were to be seen, and those few more moving unconcernedly away from the center of violence. all over the park thousands of arpales were fighting furiously and hundreds of them were dying. for hundreds of the sencors had suffered only wing injuries, the long fall to ground had not harmed them further, and their tremendous fighting ability had been lessened very little if at all. "but i'd think, just for efficiency if nothing else," garlock argued, "you'd support the arpales _some_ way. lighter guns or something. why, thousands of them must have been killed, just in this last hour or so." "yeah, but that's their business. they breed fast and die fast. everything has to balance, you know." "perhaps so." garlock was silenced, if not convinced. "well, it's about over. what happens to the bodies they're dumping down manholes? they can't go down a sewer that way?" "oh, you didn't know? food." "food? for what?" "the arpales and us, of course." "what? you don't mean--you _can't_ mean that they--and by your thought, you arpalones, too--are cannibals!" "cannibals? explain, please? oh, eaters-of-our-own-species. of course--certainly. why not?" "why, self-respect ... common decency ... respect for one's fellow-man ... family ties...." garlock was floundering; to be called upon to explain his ingrained antipathy to such a custom was new to his experience. "you are silly. worse, squeamish. worst, supremely illogical." the arpalone paused, then went on as though trying to educate a hopelessly illogical inferior, "while we do not kill arpales purposely--except when they over-breed--why waste good meat as fertilizer? if a diet is wholesome, nutritious, well-balanced, and tasty, what shred of difference can it _possibly_ make what its ingredients once were?" "well, i'll be damned." garlock quit. belle agreed. "this whole deal makes me sick at the stomach and i think my face is turning green too. but i'm devilishly and gleefully glad, clee, that i was here to hear _somebody_ give you cards, spaces, and big casino and still beat the lights and liver out of you at your own game of cold-blooded logic!" "we gunners must go now. would you like to come along with us and see the end of this particular breeding-hole of sencors?" at high speed the seven flew back along the line of advance of the flying-tiger horde; across a barren valley, toward and to the side of a mountain. * * * an area almost a mile square of that mountain's side was a burned, blasted, churned, pocked, cratered and flaming waste; and the four helicopters were still working on it. high-energy beams blasted, fairly volatilizing the ground as they struck in as deep as they could be driven. high-explosive shells bored deep and detonated, hurling shattered rock and soil and yellow smoke far and wide; establishing new craters by destroying the ones existing a moment before. while it seemed incredible that any living thing larger than a microbe could emerge under its own power from such a hell of energy, many flying tigers did; apparently being blown aloft along with the hitherto undisturbed volume of soil in which the creatures had been. most of them were not fully grown; some were so immature as to be unrecognizable to an untrained eye; but from all four helicopters hand-guns snapped and cracked. nothing--but _nothing_--was leaving that field of carnage alive. "what are you gunners supposed to be doing here?" garlock asked. "oh, the 'copters will be leaving pretty soon--they've got other places to go. but they won't get them all--some of the hatches are too deep--so us four gunners will stick around for two-three days to kill the late-hatchers as they come out." "i see," and garlock probed. "there are four cells they won't reach. shall i bomb 'em out?" "i'll ask." the slitted red eyes widened and he sent a call. "commander knahr, can you hop over here a minute? i want you to meet these things we've been hearing about. they look human, but they really aren't. they're killers, with more stuff and more brains than any of us ever heard of." another arpalone appeared, indistinguishable to tellurian eyes from any one of the others. "but why do you want to mix into something that's none of your business?" knahr was neither officious nor condemnatory. he simply could not understand. "since you have no concept of our quality of curiosity, just call it education. the question is, do or do you not want those four deeply-buried cells blasted out of existence?" "of course i do." "okay. you've got all of 'em you're going to get. tell your 'copters to give us about five miles clearance, and we'll all fall back, too." they drew back, and there were four closely-spaced explosions of such violence that one raggedly mushroom-shaped cloud went into the stratosphere and one huge, ragged crater yawned where once churned ground had been. "but that's _atomic_!" knahr gasped the thought. "fall-out!" "no fall-out. complete conversion. have you got a counter?" they had. they tested. there was nothing except the usual background count. "there's no life left underground, so you needn't keep this squad of gunners tied up here," garlock told the commander. "before we go, i want to ask a question. you have visitors once in a while from other solar systems, so you must have a faster-than-light drive. can you tell me anything about it?" "no. nothing like that would be any of my business." knahr and the four gunners disappeared; the helicopters began to lumber away. "well, _that_ helps--i don't think," garlock thought, glumly. "_what_ a world! back to the main?" * * * in the main, after a long and fruitless discussion, garlock called governor atterlin, who did not know anything about a faster-than-light drive, either. there was one, of course, since it took only a few days or a few weeks to go from one system to another; but hodell didn't have any such ships. no ordinary planet did. they were owned and operated by people who called themselves "engineers." he had no idea where the engineers came from; they didn't say. garlock then tried to get in touch with the arpalone inspector who had checked the _pleiades_ in, and could not find out even who it had been. the inspector then on duty neither knew or cared anything about either faster-than-light drives or engineers. such things were none of his business. "what difference would it make, anyway?" james asked. "no drive that takes 'a few weeks' for an intra-galaxy hop is ever going to get us back to tellus." "true enough; but if there is such a thing i want to know how it works. how are you coming with your calculations?" "i'll finish up tomorrow easily enough." tomorrow came, and james finished up, but he did not find any familiar pattern of galactic arrangement. the other three watched james set up for another try for earth. "you don't think we'll ever get back, do you, clee?" belle asked. "right away, no. some day, yes. i've got the germ of an idea. maybe three or four more hops will give me something to work on." "i hope so," james said, "because here goes nothing," and he snapped the red switch. * * * it was not nothing. number two was another guardian inspector and another planet very much like hodell. it proved to be so far from both earth and hodell, however, that no useful similarities were found in any two of the three sets of charts. number three was equally unproductive of helpful results. james did, however, improve his technique of making galactic charts; and he and garlock designed and built a high-speed comparator. thus the time required per stop was reduced from days to hours. number four produced a surprise. when garlock touched the knob of the testing-box he yanked his hand away before it had really made contact. it was like touching a high-voltage wire. "you are incompatible with our humanity and must not land," the inspector ruled. "suppose we blast you and your jets out of the air and land anyway?" garlock asked. "that is perhaps possible," the inspector agreed, equably enough. "we are not invincible. however, it would do you no good. if any one of you four leaves that so-heavily-insulated vessel in the atmosphere of this planet you will die. not quickly, but slowly and with difficulty." "but you haven't tested _me_!" belle said. "do you mean they'll attack us on sight?" "there is no need to test more than one. anyone who could live near any of you could not live on this planet. nor will they attack you. don't you know what the thought 'incompatible' means?" "with us it does not mean death." "here it does, since it refers to life forces. the types are mutually, irreconcilably antagonistic. your life forces are very strong. thus, no matter how peaceable your intentions may be, many of our human beings would die before you would, but you will not live to get back to your ship if you land it and leave its protective insulation." "why? what is it? how does it work?" belle demanded. "it is not my business to know; only to tell. i have told. you will go away now." garlock's eyes narrowed in concentration. "belle, can you blast? i mean, could you if you wanted to?" "certainly ... why, i don't _want_ to, clee!" "i don't, either--and i'll file that one away to chew on when i'm hungry some night, too. take her up, jim, and try another shot." * * * numbers five to nine, inclusive, were neither productive nor eventful. all were, like the others, hodell all over again, in everything fundamental. one was so far advanced that almost all of its humanity were seconds; one so backward--or so much younger--that its strongest telepaths were only fours. the tellurians became acquainted with, and upon occasion fought with, various types of man-sized monsters in addition to the three varieties they had seen on hodell. every planet they visited had arpalones and arpales. not by those names, of course. local names for planets, guardians, nations, cities, and persons went into the starship's tapes, but that welter of names need not be given here; this is not a catalogue. every planet they visited was peopled by _homo sapiens_; capable of inter-breeding with the tellurians and eager to do so--especially with the tellurian men. their strict monogamy was really tested more than once; but it held. each had been visited repeatedly by starships; but all garlock could find out about them was that they probably came from a world somewhere that was inhabited by compatible human beings of grade two. he could learn nothing about the faster-than-light drive. number ten was another queer--the tellurians were found incompatible. "let's go down anyway." belle suggested. "overcome this unwillingness of ours and find out. what do you think they've got down there, clee garlock, that could possibly handle you and me both?" "i don't think it's a case of 'handling' at all. i don't know what it is, but i believe it's fatal. we won't go down." "but it doesn't make sense!" belle protested. "not yet, no; but it's a datum. enough data and we'll be able to formulate a theory." * * * "you and your theories! i wish we could get some _facts_!" "you can call that a fact. but i want you and jim to do some math. we know that we're making mighty long jumps. assuming that they're at perfect random, and of approximately the same length, the probability is greater than one-half that we're getting farther and farther away from tellus. is there a jump number, n, at which the probability is one-half that we land nearer tellus instead of farther away? my jump-at-conclusions guess is that there isn't. that the first jump set up a bias." "ouch. _that_ isn't in any of the books," james said. "in other words, do we or do we not attain a maximum? you're making some bum assumptions; among others that space isn't curved and that the dimensions of the universe are very large compared to the length of our jumps. i'll see if i can put it into shape to feed to compy. you've always held that these generators work at random--the rest of those assumptions are based on your theory?" "check. i'm not getting anywhere studying my alleged xenology, so i'm going to work full time on designing a generator that will steer." "you tried to before. so did everybody else." "i know it, but i've got a lot more data now. and i'm not promising, just trying. okay? worth a try?" "sure--i'm in favor of anything that has any chance at all of working." jumping went on; and garlock, instead of going abroad on the planets, stayed in the _pleiades_ and worked. * * * at number forty-three, their reception was of a new kind. they were compatible with the people of this world, but the inspector advised them against landing. "i do not forbid you," he explained, carefully. "our humans are about to destroy themselves with fission and fusion bombs. they send missiles, without warning, against visitors. thus, the last starship to visit us here disregarded my warning and sent down a sensing device as usual--engineers do not land on non-telepathic worlds, you know--and it was destroyed." "you're a guardian of humanity," garlock said. "can't you straighten people out?" "of course not!" the arpalone was outraged. "we guard humanity against incompatibles and non-humans; but it is not our business to interfere with humanity if it wishes to destroy itself. that is its privilege and its own business!" garlock probed down. "no telepathy, even--not even a seven. this planet _is_ backward--back to year one. and nothing but firecrackers--we're going down, aren't we?" "i'll say we are!" belle said. "this will break the monotony, at least," and the others agreed. "you won't object, i take it," garlock said to the inspector, "if we try to straighten them out. we can postpone the blow-up a few years, at least." "no objections, of course. in fact, i can say that we guardians of humanity would approve such action." down the _pleiades_ went, into the air of the nation known as the "allied republican democracies of the world," and an atomic-warheaded rocket came flaming up. "hm ... m ... m. ingenious little gadget, at that," james reported, after studying it thoroughly. "filthy thing for fall-out, though, if it goes off. where'll i flip it, clee? one of their moons?" "check. third one out--no chance of any contamination from there." the missile vanished; and had any astronomer been looking at that world's third and outermost moon at the moment, he might have seen a tremendous flash of light, a cloud of dust, and the formation of a new and different crater among the hundreds already there. "no use waiting for 'em, jim. all three of you toss everything they've got out onto that same moon, being sure not to hurt anybody--yet. i'll start asking questions." the captain who had fired the first missile appeared in the main. he reached for his pistol, to find that he did not have one. he tensed his muscles to leap at garlock, to find that he could not move. garlock drove his probe. "who is your superior officer?" and before the man could formulate a denial, that superior stood helpless beside him. * * * then three--and four. at the fifth: "oh, you are the man i want. prime minister--euphemism for dictator--sovig. missile launching stations and missile storage? you don't know? who does?" another man appeared, and for twenty minutes the _pleiades_ darted about the continent. "now submarines, atomic and otherwise, and all surface vessels capable of launching missiles." another man appeared. this job took a little longer, since the crew of each vessel had to be teleported back to their bases. an immense scrap-pile, probably visible with a telescope of even moderate power, built up rapidly on the third moon. "now a complete list of your uranium-refining plants, your military reactors, heavy-water and heavy-hydrogen plants, and so on." another man appeared, but the starship did not move. "here is a list of plants," and garlock named them, coldly. "you will remember them. i will return you to your office, and you may--or may not, as you please--order them evacuated. look at your watch. we start destroying them in exactly seventy-two of your hours from this moment. any and all persons on the properties will be killed; any within a radius of ten of your miles may be killed. our explosives are extremely powerful, but there is no radioactivity and no danger from the fall-out. the danger is from flash-blindness, flash-burn, sheer heat, shock-wave, concussion, and flying debris of all kinds." the officer vanished and garlock turned back to the prime minister. "you have an ally, a nation known as the 'brotherhood of people's republics.' where is its capital? slide us over there, jim. now, prime minister sovig, you and your ally, the second and first most populous nations of your world, are combining to destroy--a pincers movement, let us say?--the third largest nation, or rather, group of nations--the nations of the north.... oh, i see. third only in population, but first in productive capacity and technology. they should be destroyed because their ideology does not agree with yours. they are too idealistic to strike first, so you will. after you strike, they will not be able to. whereupon you, personally, will rule the world. i will add to that something you are not thinking, but should: you will rule it until one of your friends puts his pistol to the back of your neck and blows your brains out." * * * they were now over the ally's capitol; which launched five missiles instead of one. garlock collected four more men and studied them. "just as bad--if possible, worse. who, lingonor, is the leader of your opposition, if any?" another man, very evidently of the same race, appeared. "idealistic, in a way, but spineless and corrupt," garlock announced to all. "his administration was one of the most corrupt ever known on this world. we'll disarm them, too." they did. the operation did not take very long; as this nation--or group, it was not very clear exactly what it was--while very high in manpower, was very low in technology. the starship moved to a station high above the capitol building of the nations of the north and moved slowly downward until it hung poised one scant mile over the building. missiles, jets, and heavy guns were set and ready, but no attack was made. therefore garlock introduced himself to various personages and invited them aboard instead of snatching them; nor did he immobilize them after they had been teleported aboard. "the president, the chief of staff, the chief justice, the most eminent scientist, the head of a church, the leaders of the legislative body and four political bosses, the biggest business man, biggest labor leader, and biggest gangster. fourteen men." as garlock studied them his face hardened. "i thought to leave your nations armed, to entrust this world's future to you, but no. only two of you are really concerned about the welfare of your peoples, and one of those two is very weak. most of you are of no higher motivation than are the two dictators and your gangster clyden. you are much better than those we have already disarmed, but you are not good enough." garlock's hard eyes swept over the group for two minutes before he went on: "i am opening all of your minds, friend and foe alike, to each other, so that you may all see for yourselves what depths of rottenness exist there and just how unfit your world is to associate with the decent worlds of this or any other galaxy. it would take god himself to do anything with such material, and i am not god. therefore, when we have rid this world of atomics we will leave and you will start all over again. if you really try, you can not only kill all animal life on your planet, but make it absolutely uninhabitable for...." "stop it, clee!" lola jumped up, her eyes flashing. garlock dropped the tuned group, but belle took it over. everyone there understood every thought. "don't you _see_, you've done enough? that now you're going too far? that these twenty-odd men, having had their minds opened and having been given insight into what is possible, will go forward instead of backward?" "forward? with such people as the prime ministers, the labor and business leaders, the bosses and the gangsters to cope with? do you think they've got spines stiff enough for the job?" "i'm sure of it. our world did it with no better. millions and millions of other worlds did it. why can't this one do it? of course it can." "may i ask a couple of questions?" this thought came from the tall, trim, soldierly chief of staff. "of course, general cordeen." "we have all been taking it for granted that you four belong to some super-human race; some kind or other of _homo superior_. do i understand correctly your thought that your race is _homo sapiens_, the same as ours?" "why, of course it is," lola answered in surprise. "the only difference is that we are a few thousand years older than you are." "you said also that there were 'millions and millions' of worlds that have solved the problems facing us. were all these worlds also peopled by _homo sapiens_? it seems incredible." "true, nevertheless. on any and every world of this type humanity is identical physically; and the mental differences are due only to their being in different stages of development. in fact, every planet we have visited except this one makes a regular custom of breeding its best blood with the best blood of other solar systems. and as to the 'millions and millions,' i meant only a very large but indefinite number. as far as i know, not even a rough estimate has ever been made--has there, clee?" "no, but it will probably turn out to be millions _of_ millions, instead of millions _and_ millions; and squared and then cubed at that. my guess is that it'll take another ten thousand years of preliminary surveying such as we're doing, by all the crews the various galaxian societies can put out, before even the roughest kind of an estimate can be made as to how many planets are inhabited by mutually fertile human peoples." * * * for a moment the group was stunned. then: "do you mean to say," asked the merchant prince, "that you galaxians are not the only ones who have interstellar travel?" "far from it. in fact, yours is the only world we have seen that does not have it, in one form or another." "oh? more than one way? that makes it still worse. would you be willing to sell us plans, or lease us ships...?" "so that you could exploit other planets? we will not. you would get nowhere, even if you had an interstellar drive right now. you, personally, are a perfect example of what is wrong with this planet. rapacious, insatiable; you violate every concept of ethics, common decency, and social responsibility. your world's technology is so far ahead of its sociology that you not only should be, but actually are being, held in quarantine." "_what?_" "exactly. one race i know of has been inspecting you regularly for several hundreds of your years. they will not make contact with you, or allow you to leave your own world, until you grow up to something beyond the irresponsible-baby stage. thus, about two and one-half of your years ago, a starship of that race sent down a sensing element--unmanned, of course--to check your state of development. brother sovig volatilized it with an atomic missile." "we did not do it," the dictator declared. "it was the war-mongering capitalists." "you brainless, mindless, contemptible idiot," garlock sneered. "are even you actually stupid enough to try to lie with your mind? to minds linked to your own and to mine?" "we did do it, then, but it was only a flying saucer." "just as this ship was, to you, only a flying saucer, i suppose. so here's something else for you to think about, brother sovig, with whatever power your alleged brain is able to generate. when you shot down that sensor, the starship did not retaliate, but went on without taking any notice of you. when you tried to shoot _us_ down, we took some slight action, but did not kill anyone and are now discussing the situation. listen carefully now, and remember--it is very possible that the next craft you attack in such utterly idiotic fashion will, without any more warning than you gave, blow this whole planet into a ball of incandescent gas." "can that actually be done?" the scientist asked. for the first time, he became really interested in the proceedings. "very easily, doctor cheswick," garlock replied. "we could do it ourselves with scarcely any effort and at very small cost. you are familiar, i suppose, with the phenomenon of ball lightning?" "somewhat. its mechanism has never been elucidated in any very satisfactory mathematics." "well, we have at our disposal a field some...." "hold it, clee," james warned. "do you want to put out that kind of stuff around here?" "um ... m ... m. what do you think?" * * * james studied cheswick's mind. "better than i thought," he decided. "he has made two really worthwhile intuitions--a genius type. he's been working on what amounts almost to the coupler theory for ten years. he's almost got it, but you know intuitions of that caliber can't be scheduled. he might get it tomorrow--or never. i'd say push him over the hump." "okay with me. we'll take a vote--one blackball kills it. brownie? just the link, of course. a few hints, perhaps, at application, but no technological data." "i say give it to him. he's earned it. besides, he isn't young and may die before he gets it, and that would lose them two or three hundred years." "belle?" "in favor. shall i drop the linkage? no," she answered her own question. "no other minds here will have any idea of what it means, and it may do some of them a bit of good to see one of their own minds firing on more than one barrel." "thank you, galaxians." the scientist's mind had been quivering with eagerness. "i am inexpressibly glad that you have found me worthy of so much help." * * * garlock entered cheswick's mind. first he impressed, indelibly, six symbols and their meanings. second, a long and intricate equation; which the scientist studied avidly. during the ensuing pause, garlock cut the president and chief of staff out of the linkage. "we have just given cheswick a basic formula. in a couple of hundred years it will give you full telepathy, and then you will begin really to go up. there's nothing secret about it--in fact, i'd advise full publication--but even so it might be a smart idea to give him both protection and good working conditions. brains like his are apt to be centuries apart on any world." "but this is ... it could be ... it _must_ be!" cheswick exclaimed. "i _never_ would have formulated _that_! it isn't quite implicit, of course, but from this there derives the existence of, and the necessity for, electrogravitics! an entirely new field of reality and experiment in science!" "there does indeed," garlock admitted, "and it is far indeed from being implicit. you leaped a tremendous gap. and yes, the resultant is more humanistic than technological." belle's ear-splitting whistle resounded throughout the main. "how do you like _them_ tid-bits, clee?" she asked. "two hundred years in seventy-eight seconds? you folks will have telepathy by the time your present crop of babies grows up. clee, aren't you sorry you got mad and blew your top and wanted to pick up your marbles and go home? _three_ such intuitions in one man's lifetime beats par, even for the genius course." "it sure does," garlock admitted, ruefully. "i should have studied these minds--particularly his--before jumping at conclusions." "may i say a few words?" the president asked. "you may indeed, sir. i was hoping you would." "we have been discouraged; faced with an insoluble problem. sovig and lingonor, knowing that their own lives were forfeit anyway, were perfectly willing to destroy all the life on this world to make us yield. now, however, with the insight and the encouragement you galaxians have given us, the situation has changed. reduced to ordinary high explosives, they cannot conquer us...." "especially without an airforce," lola put in. "i, personally, will see to it that every bomber and fighter plane they now have goes to the third moon. it will be your responsibility to see to it that they do not rebuild." "thank you, miss montandon. we will see to it. as for our internal difficulties--i think, under certain conditions, they can be handled. our lawless element," he glanced at the gangster, "can be made impotent. the corrupt practices of both capital and labor can be stopped. we have laws," here he looked at the members of congress and the judge, "which can be enforced. the conditions i mentioned would be difficult at the moment, since so few of us are here and it is manifest that few if any of our people will believe that such people as you galaxians really exist. would it be possible for you, miss montandon, to spend a few days--or whatever time you can spare--in showing our congress, and as many other groups as possible, what humanity may hope to become?" "of course, sir. i was planning on it." "i'm afraid that is impossible," the chief of staff said. "why, general cardeen?" lola asked. "because you'd be shot," cardeen said, bluntly. "we have a very good secret service, it is true, and we would give you every protection possible; but such an all-out effort as would be made to assassinate you would almost certainly succeed." "shot?" garlock asked in surprise. "what with? you haven't anything that could even begin to crack an operator's shield." "with this, sir." cardeen held out his automatic pistol for inspection. "oh, i hadn't studied it ... a pellet-projector...." "_pellet!_ do you call a four-seventy-five slug a pellet?" "not much of that, really ... it shoots eight times--shoot all eight of them at her. none of them will touch her." "_what?_ i _will_ not! one of those slugs will go through three women like her, front to back in line." "i will, then." the pistol leaped into garlock's hand. "hold up one hand, brownie, and catch 'em. don't let 'em splash--no deformation, so he can recognize his own pellets." holding the unfamiliar weapon in a clumsy, highly unorthodox grip--something like a schoolgirl's first attempt--garlock glanced once at lola's upraised palm and eight shots roared out as fast as the gases of explosion could operate the mechanism. the pistol's barrel remained rigidly motionless under all the stress of ultra-rapid fire. lola's slim, deeply-tanned arm did not even quiver under the impact of that storm of heavy bullets against her apparently unsupported hand. no one saw those bullets strike that gently-curved right palm, but everyone saw them drop into her cupped left hand, like drops of water dripping rapidly from the end of an icicle into a bowl. "here are your pellets, general cardeen." lola handed them to him with a smile. "holy--jumping--snakes!" the general said, and: "wotta torpedo!" came the gangster's envious thought. "you see, i am perfectly safe from being 'shot,' as you call it," lola said. "so i'll come down and work with you. you might have your news services put out a bulletin, though. i never have killed anyone, and am not going to here, but anyone who tries to shoot me or bomb me or anything will lose both hands at the wrists just before he fires. that would keep them from killing anyone standing near me, don't you think?" "i should _think_ it would," general cordeen thought, and a pall of awe covered the linked minds. the implications of the naively frank remark just uttered by this apparently inoffensive and defenseless young woman were simply too overwhelming to be discussed. "anything else on the agenda, clee?" lola asked. there was not, and the starship's guests were returned, each to his own home place. and not one of them, it may be said, was exactly the same as he had been. [illustration: the deepest gunther block was at last penetrated and belle became conscious of a heretofore unknown mental alignment with the ship.] chapter "i think i'll come along with you and bodyguard you, lola," belle said, the following morning after breakfast. "clee's going to be seven thousand miles deep in mathematics and jim's doing his stuff at the observatory, and i can't help either of 'em at the moment. you'd do a better job, wouldn't you, if you could concentrate on it?" "of course. thanks, belle. but remember, it's already been announced--no death. just hands. i can't really believe that i'll be attacked, but they seem pretty sure of it." "i'd like to separate anyone like that from his head instead of his hands, but as it is published so it will be performed." "how about wearing some kind of half-way-comfortable shoes instead of those slippers?" garlock asked. "that could turn out to be a long, tough brawl, and your dogs'll be begging for mercy before you get back here." "uh-uh. very comfortable and a perfect fit. besides, if i have to suffer just a little bit for good appearance's sake in a matter of intergalactic amity...." "a matter of showing off, you mean." "why, clee!" belle widened her eyes at him. "how you talk! but they're ready, lola--let's go." the two girls disappeared from the main, to appear on the speakers' stand in front of the capitol building. president benton was there, with his cabinet and certain other personages. general cordeen and his staff. and many others. "oh, miss bellamy, too? i'm _very_ glad you are here," benton said, as he shook hands cordially with both. "thank you. i came along as bodyguard. may i meet your secret service chief, please?" "why, of course. miss bellamy, may i present mr. avengord?" "you have the hospital room ready?... where is it, please?" "back of us, in the wing...." "just think of it, please, and i will follow your thought.... ah, yes, there it is. i hope it will not be used. you agree with general cordeen that there will be one or more attempts at assassination?" "i'm very much afraid so. this town is literally riddled with enemy agents, and of course we don't know all of them--especially the best ones. they know that if these meetings go through, they're sunk; so they're desperate. we've got this whole area covered like dew--we've arrested sixteen suspects already this morning--but all the advantage is theirs," avengord finished glumly. "not all of it, sir," belle smiled at him cheerfully. "you have me, and i am a prime operator. that is, a wielder of power of no small ability. oh, you are right. there is an attempt now being prepared." * * * while belle had been greeting and conversing, she had also been scanning. her range, her sensitivity, and her power were immensely greater than lola's; were probably equal to garlock's own. she scanned by miles against the scant yards covered by the secret service. "where?" "give me your thought." the secret service man did not know what she meant--telepathy was of course new to him--so she seized his attention and directed it to a certain window in a building a couple of miles away on a hill. "but they couldn't, from there!" "but they can. they have a quite efficient engine of destruction--a 'rifle' is their thought. large, and long, with a very good telescope on it--with crosshairs. if i scan their minds more precisely you may know the weapon.... ah, they think of it as a 'buford mark forty anti-aircraft rifle'." "a buford! my god, they can hit any button on her clothes--get her away, quick!" he tried to jump, but could not move. "as you were," she directed. "there was another buford there, and another over there." she guided his thought. "two men to each buford. there are now six handless men in your hospital room. if you will send men to those three places you will find the bufords and the hands. your surgeon will have no difficulty in matching the hands to the men. if any seek to remove either bufords or hands before your men get there, i will de-hand them, also." * * * to say that the secret service man was flabbergasted is to put it very mildly indeed. cordeen had told him, with much pounding on his desk and in searing, air-blueing language, what to expect-or, rather, to expect _anything_, no matter what and with no limits whatever--but he hadn't believed it then and simply could not believe it now. goddamn it, such things _couldn't_ happen. and this beautiful, beautifully-stacked, half-naked woman--girl, rather, she couldn't be a day over twenty-five--even if it had been their black-browed, toplofty leader, captain garlock himself.... "i am twenty-three of your years old, not twenty-five," she informed him, coldly, "and i will permit no distinction of sex. in your primitive culture the women may still be allowing you men to believe in the fallacy of the superiority of the male, but know right now that i can do anything any man ever born can do and do it better." "oh, i'm ... i'm sure ... certainly...." avengord's thought was incoherent. "if you want me to work with you you had better start believing right now that there are a lot of things you don't know," belle went on relentlessly. "stop believing that just because a thing has not already happened on this primitive, backward, mudball planet of yours, it can't happen anywhere or anywhen. you do believe, however, whether you want to or not, things you see with your own eyes?" "yes. i can _not_ be hypnotized." "i'm very glad you believe that much." avengord did not notice that she neither confirmed nor denied the truth of his statement. "to that end you will go now into the hospital room and see the bandaging going on. you will see and hear the news broadcast going out as i prepared it." he went, and came back a badly shaken man. "but they're sending it out exactly as it happened!" he protested. "they'll all scatter out so fast and so far we'll _never_ catch them!" "by no means. you see, the amputees didn't believe that they would lose their hands. their superiors didn't believe it, either; they assured each other and their underlings that it was just capitalistic bluff and nonsense. and since they are all even more materialistic and hidebound and unbelieving than you are, they all are now highly confused--at a complete loss." "you can say _that_ again. if i, working with you and having you pounding it into my head, couldn't more than half believe it...." "so they are now very frightened, as well as confused, and the director of their whole spy system is now violating rule and precedent by sending out messengers to summon certain high agents to confer with him in his secret place." "if you'll tell me where, i'll get over to my office...." "no. we'll both be in your office in plenty of time. we'll watch lola get started. it will be highly instructive for you to watch a really capable operator at work." * * * president benton had been introduced; had in turn finished introducing lola. the crowd, many thousands strong, was cheering. lola was stepping into the carefully marked speaker's place. "you may disconnect these," she waved a hand at the battery of microphones, "since i do not use speech. not only do i not know any of your various languages, but no one language would suffice. my thought will go to every person on this, your world." "world?" the president asked in surprise. "surely not behind the curtains? they will jam you, i'm afraid." "my thought, as i shall drive it, will not be stopped," lola assured him. "since this world has no telepathy, it has no mind-blocks and i can cover the planet as easily as one mind. nor does it matter whether it be day or night, or whether anyone is awake or asleep. all will receive my message. since you wish a record, the cameras may run, although they are neither necessary nor desirable for me. everyone will see me in his mind, much better than on the surface of any teevee tube." "and i was going to have her address _congress_!" the president whispered, aside, to general cordeen. then lola put her whole fine personality into a smile, directed apparently not only at each separate individual within sight, but also individually at every person on the globe; and when brownie montandon set out to make a production of a smile, it had the impact of a pile-driver. then came her smooth, gently-flowing, friendly thought: "my name, friends of this world ormolan, is lola montandon. those of you who are now looking at teevee screens can see my imaged likeness. all of you can see me very much better within your own minds. "i am not here as an invader in any sense, but only as a citizen of the first galaxy of this, our common universe. i have attuned my mind to each of yours in order to give you a message from the united galaxian societies. "there are four of us galaxians in this exploration team. as galaxians it is our purpose here and our duty here to open your minds to certain basic truths, to be of help to you in clearing your minds of fallacies, of lies, and of undefensible prejudices; to the end that you will more rapidly become galaxians yourselves...." "okay. this will go on and on. that's enough to give you an idea of what a trained and polished performer can do. what do you think of _them_ comfits, chief?" belle deliberately knocked the secret service man out of his lola-induced mood. "huh? oh, yes." avengord was still groggy. "she's phenomenal--good--i don't mean goody-goody, but sincere and really...." "yeah, but don't fall in love with her. everybody does and it doesn't do any of them a bit of good. that's her specialty and she's _very_ good at it. i told you she's a smooth, smooth worker." "you can say _that_ again." avengord did not know that he was repeating himself. "but it isn't an act. she means it and it's true." "of course she means it and of course it's true. otherwise even she, with all her training, couldn't sell such a big bill of goods." then, in answer to the man's unspoken question, "yes, we're all different. she's the contactor, the spreader of the good old oil, the shining example of purity and sweetness and light--in short, the greaser of the ways. i'm a fighter, myself. do you think she could actually have de-handed those men? uh-uh. at the last minute she would have weakened and brought them in whole. my job in this operation is to knock hell out of the ones lola can't convince, such as those spies you and i are going to interview pretty quick." "even they ought to be convinced. i don't see how anybody could help but be." "uh-uh. it'll bounce off like hailstones off of a tin roof. the only thing to do to that kind of scum is kill them. if you'll give me a thought as to where your office is we'll hop over and...." * * * belle and avengord disappeared from the stand; and, such was lola's hold, no one on the platform or in the throng even noticed that they were gone. they materialized in avengord's private office; he sitting as usual at his desk, she reclining in legs-crossed ease in a big leather chair. "... get to work." belle's thought had not been interrupted by any passage of time whatever. "what do you want to do first?" "but i thought you were covering miss montandon?" "i am. like a blanket. just as well here as anywhere. i will be, until she gets back to the _pleiades_. what first?" "oh. well, since i don't know what your limits are--if you have any--you might as well do whatever you think best and i'll watch you do it." "that's the way to talk. you're going to get a shock when you see who the head man is. george t. basil." "_basil_! i'll say it's a shock!" avengord steadied, frowned in concentration. "could be, though. _he_ would _never_ be suspected--but they're very good at that." "yeah. his name used to be baslovkowitz. he was trained for years, then planted. none of this can be proved, as his record is perfect. born citizen, highest standing in business and social circles. unlimited entry and top security clearance. right?" "right ... and getting enough evidence, in such cases as that, is pure, unadulterated hell." "i suppose i could kill him, after we've recorded everything he knows," belle suggested. "no!" he snapped. "too many people think of us as a strong-arm squad now. anyway, i'd rather kill him myself than wish the job off onto--you don't _like_ killing, do you?" "that's the understatement of the century. no civilized person does. in a hot fight, yes; but killing anyone who is helpless to fight back--in cold blood--ugh! it makes me sick in my stomach even to think of it." "with the way you can read minds, we can get evidence enough to send them all to jail, and that we'll have to do." "how about this?" belle grinned as another solution came to mind. "from those first eight top men, we'll find out a lot of others lower down, and so on, until we have 'em all locked up here. we'll announce that exactly so many spies and agents--giving names, addresses, and facts, of course--got panicky after lola's address. they fired up their hidden planes and flew back behind the curtain. then, when we've scanned their minds and recorded everything you want, i'll pack them all, very snugly and carefully, into sovig's private office. with the world situation what it then will be, he won't dare kill them--he simply won't know what to do when faced with it." * * * avengord agreed happily. he reached out and flipped the switch of his intercom. "miss kimling, come in, please." the door burst open. "why, it _is_ you! but you were on the rostrum just a minute.... oh!" she saw belle, and backed, eyes wide, toward the door she had just entered. "_she_ was there, too, and it's fifteen _miles_...." "steady, fram. i'd like to present you to prime operator belle bellamy, who is cleaning out the entire curtain organization for us." "but how did you...." "never mind that. teleportation. it took her half an hour to pound it into me, and we can't take time to explain anything now. i'll tell everybody everything i know as soon as i can. in the meantime, don't be surprised at anything that happens, and by that i mean _anything_. such as solid people appearing on this carpet--on that spot right there--instantaneously. i want you to pay close attention to everything your mind receives, put your phenomenal memory into high gear, listen to everything i record, stop me any time i'm wrong, and be _sure_ i get everything we need." "i don't know exactly what you're talking about, sir, but i'll try." "frankly, i don't, either--we'll just have to roll it as we go along. we're ready for george t. basil now, miss bellamy--i hope. don't jump, fram." * * * basil appeared and fram jumped. she did not scream, however, and did not run out of the office. the master spy was a big, self-assured, affluent type. he had not the slightest idea of how he had been spirited out of his ultra-secret sub-basement and into this room; but he knew where he was and, after one glance at belle, he knew why. he decided instantly what to do about it. "this is an outrage!" he bellowed, hammering with his fist on avengord's desk. "a stupid, high-handed violation of the rights...." belle silenced him and straightened him up. "high-handed? yes," she admitted quite seriously. "however, from the galaxian standpoint, you have no rights at all and you are going to be extremely surprised at just how high-handed i am going to be. i am going to read your mind to its very bottom--layer by layer, like peeling an onion--and everything you know and everything you think is going down in mr. avengord's big black book." belle linked all four minds together and directed the search, making sure that no item, however small, was missed. avengord recorded every pertinent item. fram kimling memorized and correlated and double-checked. soon it was done, and basil, shouting even louder about this last and worst violation of his rights--those of his own private mind--was led away by two men and "put away where he would keep." "but this _is_ a flagrant violation of law...." miss kimling began. "you can say _that_ again!" her boss gloated. "and if you only knew how tickled i am to do it, after the way they've been kicking _me_ around! "but i wonder ... are you sure we can get away with it?" "certainly," belle put in. "we galaxians are doing it, not your government or your secret service. we'll start you clean--but it'll be up to you to keep it clean, and that will be no easy job." "no, it won't; but we'll do it. come around again, say in five or six years, and see." "you know, i might take you up on that? maybe not this same team, but i've got a notion to tape a recommendation for a re-visit, just to see how you get along. it'd be interesting." "i wish you would. it might help, too, if everybody thought you'd come back to check. suppose you could?" "i've no idea, really. i'd like to, though, and i'll see what i can do. but let's get on with the job. they're all in what you call the 'tank' now. which one do you want next?" the work went on. that evening there was of course a reception; and then a ball. and belle's feet did hurt when she got back to the _pleiades_, but of course she would not admit the fact--most especially not to garlock. exactly at the expiration of the stipulated seventy-two hours, the galaxians began to destroy military atomic plants; and, shortly thereafter, the starship's crew was again ready to go. and james rammed home the red button that would send them--all four wondered--_where_? it turned out to be another hodell-type world; and, even with the high-speed comparator, it took longer to check the charts than it did to make them. * * * the next planet was similar. so was the next, and the next. the time required for checking grew longer and longer. "how about cutting out this checking entirely, clee?" james asked then. "what good does it do? even if we find a similarity, what could we do about it? we've got enough stuff now to keep a crew of astronomers busy for five years making a tank of it." "okay. we probably are so far away now, anyway, that the chance of finding a similarity is vanishingly small. keep on taking the shots, though; they'll prove, i think, that the universe is one whole hell of a lot bigger than anybody has ever thought it was. that reminds me--are you getting anywhere on that n-problem? i'm not." "i'm getting nowhere, fast. you should have been a math prof in a grad school, clee. you could flunk every advanced student you had with that one. belle and i together can't feed it to compy in such shape as to get a definite answer. we think, though, that your guess was right--if we ever stabilize anywhere it will probably be relative to hodell, not to tellus. but the cold fact of how far away we must be by this time just scares the pants off of me." "you and me both, my ripe and old. we're a _long_ ways from home." * * * jumping went on; and, two or three planets later, they encountered an arpalone inspector who did not test them for compatibility with the humanity of his world. "do not land," the creature said, mournfully. "this world is dying, and if you leave the protection of your ship, you too will die." "but _worlds_ don't die, surely?" garlock protested. "people, yes--but worlds?" "worlds die. it is the dilipic. the humans die, too, of course, but it is the world itself that is attacked, not the people. some of them, in fact, will live through it." garlock drove his attention downward and scanned. "you arpalones are doing what looks like a mighty good job of fighting. can't you win?" "no, it is too late. it was already too late when they first appeared, two days ago. when the dilipics strike in such small force that none of their--agents?--devices?--whatever they are?--can land against our beaming, a world can be saved; but such cases are very few." "but this thought, 'dilipic'?" garlock asked, impatiently. "it is merely a symbol--it doesn't _mean_ anything--to me, at least. what are they? where do they come from?" "no one knows anything about them," came the surprising answer. "not even their physical shape--if they have any. nor where they come from, or how they do what they do." "they can't be very common," garlock pondered. "we have never heard of them before." "fortunately, they are not," the inspector agreed. "scarcely one world in five hundred is ever attacked by them--this is the first dilipic invasion i have seen." "oh, you arpalones don't die with your worlds, then?" lola asked. she was badly shaken. "but i suppose the arpales do, of course." "practically all of the arpales will die, of course. most of us arpalones will also die, in the battles now going on. those of us who survive, however, will stay aloft until the rehabilitation fleet arrives, then we will continue our regular work." "rehab?" belle exclaimed. "you mean you can _restore_ planets so badly ruined that all the people die?" "oh, yes. it is a long and difficult work, but the planet is always re-peopled." "let's go down," garlock said. "i want to get all of this on tape." they went down, over what had been one of that world's largest cities. the air, the stratosphere, and all nearby space were full of battling vessels of all shapes and sizes; ranging from the tremendous globular spaceships of the invaders down to the tiny, one-man jet-fighters of the arpalones. * * * the dilipics were using projectile weapons only--ranging in size, with the size of the vessels, from heavy machine guns up to seventy-five-millimeter quick-firing rifles. they were also launching thousands of guided missiles of fantastic speed and of tremendous explosive power. the arpalones were not using anything solid at all. each defending vessel, depending upon its type and class, carried from four up to a hundred or so burnished-metal reflectors some four feet in diameter; each with a small black device at its optical center and each pouring out a tight beam of highly effective energy. it was at these reflectors, and particularly at these tiny devices, that the small-arms fire was directed, and the marksmanship of the dilipics was very good indeed. however, each projector was oscillating irregularly and each fighter-plane was taking evasive action; and, since a few bullet-holes in any reflector did not reduce its efficiency very much, and since the central mechanisms were so small and were moving so erratically, a good three-quarters of the arpalonian beams were still in action. * * * there was no doubt at all that those beams were highly effective. invisible for the most part, whenever one struck a dilipic ship or plane everything in its path flared almost instantly into vapor and the beam glared incandescently, blindingly white or violet or high blue--never anything lower than blue. almost everything material, that is; for guns, ammunition, and missiles were not affected. they did not even explode. when whatever fabric it was that supported them was blasted away, all such things simply dropped; simply fell through thousands or hundreds of thousands of feet of air to crash unheeded upon whatever happened to be below. the invading task force was arranged in a whirling, swirling, almost cylindrical cone, more or less like an earthly tornado. the largest vessels were high above the stratosphere; the smallest fighters were hedge-hoppingly close to ground. each dilipic unit seemed madly, suicidally determined that nothing would get through that furious wall to interfere with whatever it was that was coming down from space to the ground through--along?--the relatively quiet "eye" of the pseudo-hurricane. on the other hand, the arpalones were madly, suicidally determined to break through that vortex wall, to get into the "eye," to wreak all possible damage there. group after group after group of five jet-fighters each came driving in; and, occasionally, the combined blasts of all five made enough of opening in the wall so that the center fighter could get through. once inside, each pilot stood his little, stubby-winged craft squarely on her tail, opened his projectors to absolute maximum of power and of spread, and climbed straight up the spout until he was shot down. and the arpalones were winning the battle. larger and larger gaps were being opened in the vortex wall; gaps which it became increasingly difficult for the dilipics to fill. more and more arpalone fighters were getting inside. they were lasting longer and doing more damage all the time. the tube was growing narrower and narrower. all four galaxians perceived all this in seconds. garlock weighed out and detonated a terrific matter-conversion bomb in the exact center of one of the largest vessels of the attacking fleet. it had no effect. then a larger one. then another, still heavier. finally, at over a hundred megatons equivalent, he did get results--of a sort. the invaders' guns, ammunition, and missiles were blown out of the ship and scattered outward for miles in all directions; but the structure of the dilipic ship itself was not harmed. belle had been studying, analyzing, probing the things that were coming down through that hellish tube. "clee!" she drove a thought. "cut out the monkey-business with those damn firecrackers of yours and look here--pure, solid force, like ball lightning or our op field, but entirely different--see if you can analyze the stuff!" "alive?" garlock asked, as he drove a probe into one of the things--they were furiously-radiating spheres some seven feet in diameter--and began to tune to it. "i don't know--don't think so--if they are, they're a form of life that no sane human being could even imagine!" "let's see what they actually do," garlock suggested, still trying to tune in with the thing, whatever it was, and still following it down. this particular force-ball happened to hit the top of a six-story building. it was not going very fast--fifteen or twenty miles an hour--but when it struck the roof it did not even slow down. without any effort at all, apparently, it continued downward through the concrete and steel and glass of the building; and everything in its path became monstrously, sickeningly, revoltingly changed. "i simply can't stand any more of this," lola gasped. "if you don't mind, i'm going to my room, set all the gunther blocks it has, and bury my head under a pillow." "go ahead, brownie," james said. "this is too tough for _anybody_ to watch. i'd do the same, except i've got to run these cameras." lola disappeared. * * * garlock and belle kept on studying. neither had paid any attention at all to either lola or james. instead of the structural material it had once been, the bore that the thing had traversed was now full of a sparkling, bubbling, writhing, partly-fluid-partly-viscous, obscenely repulsive mass of something unknown and unknowable on earth; a something which, garlock now recalled, had been thought of by the arpalone inspector as "golop." as that unstoppable globe descended through office after office, it neither sought out people nor avoided them. walls, doors, windows, ceilings, floors and rugs, office furniture and office personnel; all alike were absorbed into and made a part of that indescribably horrid brew. nor did the track of that hellishly wanton globe remain a bore. instead, it spread. that devil's brew ate into and dissolved everything it touched like a stream of boiling water being poured into a loosely-heaped pile of granulated sugar. by the time the ravening sphere had reached the second floor, the entire roof of the building was gone and the writhing, racing flood of corruption had flowed down the outer walls and across the street, engulfing and transforming sidewalks, people, pavement, poles, wires, automobiles, people-anything and everything it touched. * * * the globe went on down, through basement and sub-basement, until it reached solid, natural ground. then, with its top a few inches below the level of natural ground, it came to a full stop and--apparently--did nothing at all. by this time, the ravening flood outside had eaten far into the lower floors of the buildings across the street, as well as along all four sides of the block, and tremendous masses of masonry and steel, their supporting structures devoured, were subsiding, crumbling, and crashing down into the noisome flood of golop--and were being transformed almost as fast as they could fall. one tremendous mass, weighing hundreds or perhaps thousands of tons, toppled almost as a whole; splashing the stuff in all directions for hundreds of yards. wherever each splash struck, however, a new center of attack came into being, and the peculiarly disgusting, abhorrent liquidation went on. "can you do anything with it, clee?" belle demanded. "not too much--it's a mess," garlock replied. "besides, it wouldn't get us far, i don't think. it'll be more productive to analyze the beams the arpalones are using to break them up, don't you think?" then, for twenty solid minutes, the two prime operators worked on those enigmatic beams. "we can't assemble _that_ kind of stuff with our minds," belle decided then. "i'll say we can't," garlock agreed. "ten megacycles, and cycling only twenty per second." he whistled raucously through his teeth. "my guess is it'd take four months to design and build a generator to put out that kind of stuff. it's worse than our op field." "i'm not sure i could _ever_ design one," belle said, thoughtfully, "but of course i'm not the engineer you are...." then, she could not help adding, "... yet." "no, and you never will be," he said, flatly. "no? that's what _you_ think!" even in such circumstances as those, belle bellamy was eager to carry on her warfare with her project chief. "that's _exactly_ what i think--and i'm so close to knowing it for a fact that the difference is indetectible." belle almost--but not quite--blew up. "well, what _are_ you going to do?" "unless and until i can figure out something effective to do, i'm not going to try to do anything. if you, with your vaunted and flaunted belief in the inherent superiority of the female over the male, can dope out something useful before i do, i'll eat crow and help you do it. as for arguing with you, i'm all done for the moment." belle gritted her teeth, flounced away, and plumped herself down into a chair. she shut her eyes and put every iota of her mind to work on the problem of finding something--_anything_--that could be done to help this doomed world and to show that big, overbearing jerk of a garlock that she was a better man than he was. which of the two objectives loomed more important, she herself could not have told, to save her life. and garlock looked around. the air and the sky over the now-vanished city were both clear of dilipic craft. the surviving arpalone fighters and other small craft were making no attempt to land, anywhere on the world's surface. instead, they were flying upward toward, and were being drawn one by one into the bowels of, huge arpalonian space-freighters. when each such vessel was filled to capacity, it flew upward and set itself into a more-or-less-circular orbit around the planet. around and around and around the ruined world the _pleiades_ went; recording, observing, charting. fifty-eight of those atrocious dilipic vortices had been driven to ground. every large land-mass surrounded by large bodies of water had been struck once, and only once; from the tremendous area of the largest continent down to the relatively tiny expanses of the largest islands. one land-mass, one vortex. one only. "what d'you suppose _that_ means?" james asked. "afraid of water?" "damfino. could be. let's check ... mountains, too. skip us back to where we started--oceans and mountains both fairly close there." the city had disappeared long since; for hundreds of almost-level square miles there extended a sparkling, seething, writhing expanse of--of what? the edge of that devouring flood had almost reached the foot-hills, and over that gnawing, dissolving edge the _pleiades_ paused. * * * small lakes and ordinary rivers bothered the golop very little if at all. there was perhaps a slightly increased sparkling, a slight stiffening, a little darkening, some freezing and breaking off of solid blocks; but the thing's forward motion was not noticeably slowed down. it drank a fairly large river and a lake one mile wide by ten miles long while the two men watched. the golop made no attempt to climb either foot-hills or mountains. it leveled them. it ate into their bases at its own level; the undermined masses, small and large, collapsed into the foul, corrosive semi-liquid and were consumed. nor was there much raising of the golop's level, even when the highest mountains were reached and miles-high masses of solid rock broke off and toppled. there was some raising, of course; but the stuff was fluid enough so that its slope was not apparent to the eye. * * * then the _pleiades_ went back, over the place where the city had been and on to what had once been an ocean beach. the original wave of degradation had reached that shore long since, had attacked its sands out into deep water, and there it had been stopped. the corrupt flood was now being reinforced, however, by an ever-rising tide of material that had once been mountains. and the slope, which had not been even noticeable at the mountains or over the plain, was here very evident. as the rapidly-flowing golop struck water, the water shivered, came to a weirdly unforgettable cold boil, and exploded into drops and streamers and jagged-edged chunks of something that was neither water nor land; or rock or soil or sand or satan's unholy brew. nevertheless, the water won. there was _so_ much of it! each barrel of water that was destroyed was replaced instantly and enthusiastically; with no lowering of level or of pressure. and when water struck the golop, the golop also shivered violently, then sparkled even more violently, then stopped sparkling and turned dark, then froze solid. the frozen surface, however, was neither thick enough nor strong enough to form an effective wall. again and again the wave of golop built up high enough to crack and to shatter that feeble wall; again and again golop and water met in ultimately furious, if insensate, battle. inch by inch the ocean's shoreline was driven backward toward ocean's depths; but every inch the ocean lost was to its tactical advantage, since the advancing front was by now practically filled with hard, solid, dead blocks of its own substance which it could neither assimilate nor remove from the scene of conflict. hence the wall grew ever thicker and solider; the advance became slower and slower. then, finally, ocean waves of ever-increasing height and violence rolled in against the new-formed shore. what caused those tremendous waves--earthquakes, perhaps, due to the shifting of the mountains' masses?--no tellurian ever surely knew. whatever the cause, however, those waves operated to pin the golop down. whenever and wherever one of those monstrous waves whitecapped in, hurling hundreds of thousands of tons of water inland for hundreds of yards, the battle-front stabilized then and there. all over that world the story was the same. wherever there was water enough, the water won. and the total quantity of water in that world's oceans remained practically unchanged. "good. a lot of people escaped," james said, expelling a long-held breath. "everybody who lives on or could be flown to all the islands smaller than the biggest ones ... if they can find enough to eat and if the air isn't poisoned." "air's okay--so's the water--and they'll get food," garlock said. "the arpalones will handle things, including distribution. what i'm thinking about is how they're going to rehabilitate it. that, as an engineering project, is a feat to end all feats." "_brother!_ you can play _that_ in spades!" james agreed. "except that it'll take too many months before they can even start the job, i'd like to stick around and see how they go about it. how does this kind of stuff fit into that theory you're not admitting is a theory?" "not worth a damn. however, it's a datum--and, as i've said before and may say again, if we can get _enough_ data we can build a theory out of it." then it began to rain. for many minutes the clouds had been piling up--black, far-flung, thick and high. immense bolts of lightning flashed and snapped and crackled; thunder crashed and rolled and rumbled; rain fell, and continued to fall, like a cloud-burst in colorado. and shortly thereafter--first by square feet and then by acres and then by square miles--the surface of the golop began to die. to die, that is, if it had ever been even partially alive. at least it stopped sparkling, darkened, and froze into thick skins; which broke up into blocks; which in turn sank--thus exposing an ever-renewed surface to the driving, pelting, relentlessly cascading rain. "well, i don't know that there's anything to hold us here any longer," garlock said, finally. "shall we go?" they went; but it was several days before any of the wanderers really felt like smiling; and lola did not recover from her depression for over a week. chapter supper was over, but the four were still at the table, sipping coffee and smoking. during a pause in the casual conversation, james suddenly straightened up. "i want an official decision, clee," he said, abruptly. "while we're out of touch with united worlds you, as captain of the ship and director of the project, are boss, with a capital b. the lord of justice, high and low. the works. check?" "on paper, yes; with my decisions subject to appeal and/or review when we get back to base. in practice, i didn't expect to have to make any very gravid rulings." "i never thought you'd have to, either, but belle fed me one with a bone in it, so...." "just a minute. how official do you want it? full formal, screens down and recorded?" "not unless we have to. let's explore it first. as of right now, are we under the code or not?" "of course we are." "not necessarily," belle put in, sharply. "not slavishly to the letter. we're so far away and our chance of getting back is so slight that it should be interpreted in the light of common sense." * * * garlock stared at belle and she stared back, her eyes as clear and innocent as a baby's. "the code is neither long enough nor complicated enough to require interpretation," garlock stated, finally. "it either applies in full and exactly or not at all. my ruling is that the code applies, strictly, until i declare the state of ultimate contingency. are you ready, belle, to abandon the project, find an uninhabited tellurian world, and begin to populate it?" "well, not quite, perhaps." "yes or no, please." "no." "we are under the code, then. go ahead, jim." "i broke pairing with belle and she refused to confirm." "certainly i refused. he had no reason to break with me." "i had plenty of reason!" james snapped. "i'm fed up to here--" he drew his right forefinger across his forehead, "--with making so-called love to a woman who can never think of anything except cutting another man's throat. she's a heartless conniver." "you both know that reasons are unnecessary and are not discussed in public," garlock said, flatly. "now as to confirmation of a break. in simple pairing there is no marriage, no registration, no declaration of intent or of permanence. thus, legally or logically, there is no obligation. morally, however, there is always some obligation. hence, as a matter of urbanity, in cases where no injury exists except as concerns chastity, the code calls for agreement without rancor. if either party persists in refusal to confirm, and cannot show injury, that party's behavior is declared inurbane. confirmation is declared and the offending party is ignored." "just how would you go about ignoring prime operator belle bellamy?" "you've got a point there, jim. however, she hasn't persisted very long in her refusal. as a matter of information, belle, why did you take jim in the first place?" "i didn't." she shrugged her shoulders. "it was pure chance. you saw me flip the tenth-piece." "am i to ignore the fact that you are one of the best telekineticists living?" "i don't _have_ to control things unless i want to!" she stamped her foot. "can't you conceive of me flipping a coin honestly?" "no. however, since this is not a screens-down inquiry, i'll give you--orally, at least--the benefit of the doubt. the next step, i presume, is for lola to break with me. lola?" "well ... i hate to say this, clee.... i thought that mutual consent would be better, but...." lola paused, flushing in embarrassment. "she feels," james said, steadily, "as i do, that there should be much more to the sexual relation than merely releasing the biological tensions of two pieces of human machinery. that's hardly civilized." "i confirm, lola, of course," garlock said; then went on, partly thinking aloud, partly addressing the group at large. "ha. reasons again, and very well put--not off the cuff. evasions. flat lies. something very unfunny here--as queer as a nine-credit bill. in sum, indefensible actions based upon unwarranted conclusions drawn from erroneous assumptions. the pattern is not clear ... but i won't order screens down until i have to ... if the reason had come from belle...." "_me_?" belle flared. "why from me?" "... instead of jim...." ignoring belle's interruption, garlock frowned in thought. after a minute or so his face cleared. "jim," he said, sharply, "have you been consciously aware of belle's manipulation?" "why, no, of course not. she _couldn't_!" "that's _really_ a brainstorm, clee," belle sneered. "you'd better turn yourself in for an overhaul." "nice scheme, belle," garlock said. "i underestimated--at least, didn't consider carefully enough--your power; and overestimated your ethics and urbanity." "what are you talking about, chief?" james asked. "you lost me ten parsecs back." "just this. belle is behind this whole operation; working under a perfectly beautiful smokescreen." "i'm afraid the boss is cracking up, kids," belle said. "listen to him, if you like, but use your own judgment." "but nobody could make jim and me really love each other," lola argued, "and we really do. it's real love." "admitted," garlock said. "but she could have helped it along; and she's all set to take every possible advantage of the situation thus created." "i still don't see it," james objected. "why, she wouldn't even confirm our break. she hasn't yet." "she would have, at the exactly correct psychological moment; after holding out long enough to put you both under obligation to her. there would have, also, been certain strings attached. her plan was, after switching the pairings...." "i wouldn't pair with you," belle broke in viciously, "if you were the only man left in the macrocosmic universe!" "part of the smokescreen," garlock explained. "the re-pairings would give her two lines of attack on me, to be used simultaneously. first, to work on me in bed...." "see?" belle interrupted. "he doesn't think i've got any heart at all." "oh, you may have one, but it's no softer than your head, and that could scratch a diamond. second, to work on you two, with no holds barred, to form a three-unit team against me. her charges that i am losing my grip made a very smart opening lead." "do you think i'd _let_ her work on me?" james demanded. "she's a prime--you wouldn't know anything about it. however, nothing will happen. nor am i going to let her confuse the real issue. belle, you are either inside the code or a free agent outside it. which?" "i have made my position clear." "to me, yes. to jim and lola, decidedly unclear." "unclear, then. you can _not_ coerce me!" "if you follow the code, no. if you don't, i can and will. if you make any kind of a pass at jim james from now on, i'll lock you into your room with a gunther block." "_you wouldn't dare_!" she breathed. "besides, you couldn't, not to another prime." "don't bet on it," he advised. after a full minute of silence garlock's attitude changed suddenly to his usual one of casual friendliness. "why not let this one drop right here, belle? i can marry them, with all the official trimmings. why not let 'em really enjoy their honeymoon?" "why not?" belle's manner changed to match garlock's and she smiled warmly. "i confirm, jim. you two are really serious, aren't you? marriage, declarations, registration, and everything? i wish--i sincerely and really wish you--every happiness possible." "we really _are_ serious," james said, putting his arm around lola's waist. "and you won't ... won't interfere?" "not a bit. i couldn't, now, even if i wanted to." belle grinned wryly. "you see, you kids missed the main feature of the show, since you can't know exactly what a prime operator is. especially you can't know what cleander simmsworth garlock really is--he's an out-and-out tiger on wheels. the three of us could have smacked him bow-legged, but of course all chance of that blew up just now. so if you two want to take the big jump you can do it with my blessing as well as clee's. i'll clear the table." * * * that small chore taken care of--a quick folding-up of everything into the tablecloth and a heave into the chute did it--belle set up the recorder. "are you both fully certain that you want the full treatment?" garlock asked. both were certain, and garlock read the brief but solemn marriage lines. as the newlyweds left the room, belle turned to garlock with a quizzical smile. "are you going to ask me to pair with you, clee?" "i certainly am." he grinned back at her. "i owe you that much revenge, at least. but seriously, i'd like it immensely and we fit like grace and poise. look at that mirror. did you ever see a better-matched couple? will you give me a try, belle?" "i will not," she said, emphatically. i'll take back what i said a while ago--if you were really the only man left, i would--but as it is, the answer is a definite, resounding, and final '_no_'." "'definite' and 'resounding,' yes. 'final,' i won't accept. i'll wait." "you'll wait a long time, buster. my door will be locked from now on. good night, doctor garlock, i'm going to bed." "so am i." he walked with her along the corridor to their rooms, the doors of which were opposite each other. "in view of the code, locking your door is a meaningless gesture. mine will remain unlocked. i invite you to come in whenever you like, and assure you formally that no such entry will be regarded as an invasion of privacy." without a word she went into her room and closed the door with a firmness just short of violence. her lock clicked sharply. * * * the next morning, after breakfast, james followed garlock into his room and shut the door. "clee, i want to tell you.... i don't want to get sloppy but...." "want to lep it?" "hell, no!" "it's about brownie, then." "uh-huh. i've always liked you immensely. admired you. hero, sort of...." "yeah. i quote. 'harder than pharaoh's heart.' 'colder than frozen helium,' and all the rest. but this thing about brownie...." he reached out; two hard hands met in a crushing grip. "how could you possibly lay off? just the strain, if nothing else." "a little strain doesn't hurt a man unless he lets it. i've done without for months at a stretch, with it running around loose on all sides of me." "but she's so ... she's got _everything_!" "there speaketh the ensorcelled bridegroom. for my taste, she hasn't. she told you, i suppose, when explaining a certain fact, that i told her she wasn't my type?" "yes, but...." "she still isn't. she's a very fine person, with a very fine personality. she is one of the two most nearly perfect young women of her race. her face is beautiful. her body is an artist's dream. her mind is one of the very best. besides all that, she's a very good egg and a mighty tasty dish. but put yourself in my place. * * * "here's this paragon we have just described. she has extremely high ideals and she's a virgin; never really aroused. also, she's so full of this sickening crap they've been pouring into us--propaganda, rocket-oil, prop-wash, and psychological gobbledygook--that it's running out of her ears. she's so stuffed with it that she's going to pair with you, ideals and virginity be damned, even if it kills her; even though she's shaking, clear down to her shoes--scared yellow. also, she is and always will be scared half to death of you--she thinks you're some kind of robot. she's a starry-eyed, soft-headed sissy. a sapadilla. a sucker for a smooth line of balloon-juice and flapdoodle. no spine; no bottom. a gutless doll-baby. strictly a pet--you could no more love her, ever, than you could a half-grown kitten...." "that's a _hell_ of a picture!" james broke in savagely. "even with your cold-blooded reputation." "people in love can't be objective, is all. if i saw her through the same set of filters you do, i'd be in love with her, too. so let's see if you can use your brain instead of your outraged sensibilities to answer a hypothetical question. if the foregoing were true, what would _you_ do, junior?" "i'd pass, i guess. i'd have to, if i wanted to look at myself in the mirror next morning. but that's such an _ungodly_ cockeyed picture, clee.... but if that's actually your picture of brownie--and you're no part of a liar--just what kind of a woman could you love? if any?" "belle." "_belle_! belle _bellamy_? hell's flaming furies! that iceberg? that egomaniac? that jezebel? she's the hardest-boiled babe that ever went unhung." "right, on all counts. also she's crooked and treacherous. she's a ground-and-lofty liar by instinct and training. i could add a lot more. but she's got brains, ability, and guts--guts enough to supply the women's army corps. she's got the spine and the bottom and the drive. so just imagine her thawed out and really shoveling on the coal--blasting wide open on all forty torches. back to back with you when you're surrounded; she wouldn't cave and she wouldn't give. or wing and wing--holding the beam come hell or space-warps. roll that one around on your tongue, jim, and give your taste-buds a treat." "well, maybe ... if i've got that much imagination ... that's a tough blueprint to read. i can't quite visualize the finished article. however, you're as hard as she is--even harder. you've got more of what it takes. maybe _you_ can make a christian out of her. if so, you might have something; but i'm damned if i can see exactly what. whatever it turned out to be, i wouldn't care for any part of it. you could have it all." "exactly; and you can have your brownie." "i'm beginning to see. i didn't think you had anything like that in your chilled-steel carcass. and i want to apolo...." "don't do it, boy. if the time ever comes when _you_ go so soft on me as to quit laying it on the line and start sifting out your language...." garlock paused. for one of the very few times in his life, he was at a loss for words. he thrust his hands into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. "hell, i don't want to get maudlin, either ... so ... well, how many men, do you think, could have gone the route with me on this hellish job without killing me or me killing them?" "oh, that's not...." "lay it on the line, jim. i know what i am. just one. you. one man in six thousand million. okay; how many women could live with me for a year without going crazy?" "lots of 'em; but, being masochists, they'd probably drive _you_ nuts. and you can't stand 'stupidity'; which, by definition, lets _everybody_ out. nope, it's a tough order to fill." "check. she'd have to be strong enough and hard enough not to be afraid of me, by any trace. able and eager to stand up to me and slug it out. to pin my ears back flat against my skull whenever she thinks i'm off the beam. do it with skill and precision and nicety, with power and control; yet without doing herself any damage and without changing her basic feeling for me. in short, a female jim james nine." "huh? hell's blowtorches! you think _i'm_ like belle bellamy?" "not by nine thousand megacycles. like belle bellamy could be and should be. like i hope she will be. i'd have to give, too, of course--maybe we can make christians out of each other. it's quite a dream, i admit, but it'll be belle or nobody. but i'm not used to slopping over this way--let's go." "i'm glad you did, big fellow--once in a lifetime is good for the soul. i'd say you were in love with her right now--except that if you were, you couldn't possibly dissect her like a specimen on the table, the way you've just been doing. are you or aren't you?" "i'll be damned if i know. you and brownie believe that the poets' concept of love is valid. in fact, you make a case for its validity. i never have, and don't now ... but under certain conditions ... i simply don't know. ask me again sometime; say in about a month?" "that's the surest thing you know. oh, _brother! this_ is a thing i'm going to watch with my eyes out on stalks!" * * * for the next week, belle locked her door every night. for another few nights, she did not lock it. then, one night, she left it ajar. the following evening, the two again walked together to their doors. "i left my door open last night." "i know you did." "well?" "and have you scream to high heaven that i opened it? and put me on a tape for willful inurbanity? for deliberate intersexual invasion of privacy?" * * * "blast and damn! you know perfectly well, clee garlock, i wouldn't pull such a dirty, lousy trick as that." "maybe i should apologize, then, but as a matter of fact i have no idea whatever as to what you wouldn't do." he stared at her, his face hard in thought. "as you probably know, i have had very little to do with women. that little has always been on a logical level. you are such a completely new experience that i can't figure out what makes you tick." "so you're afraid of me," she sneered. "is that it?" "close enough." "and i suppose it's you that cartoonist what's-his-name is using as a model for 'timorous timmy'?" "since you've guessed it, yes." "you ... you _weasel_!" she took three quick steps up the corridor, then back. "you say my logic is cockeyed. what system are you using now?" "i'm trying to develop one to match yours." "oh ... i invited that one, i guess, since i know you aren't afraid of god, man, woman, or devil ... and you're big enough so you don't have to be proving it all the time." she laughed suddenly, her face softening markedly. "listen, you big lug. why don't you ever knock me into an outside loop? if i were you and you were me, i'd've busted me loose from my front teeth long ago." "i'm not sure whether i know better or am afraid to. anyway, i'm not rocking any boat so far from shore." "says you. you're wonderful, clee--simply priceless. do you know you're the only man i ever met that i couldn't make fall for me like a rock falling down a cliff? and that the falling is altogether too apt to be the other way?" "the first, i have suspected. the second is chemically-pure rocket-oil." "i _hope_ it is.... i wish i could be as certain of it as you are.... you see, clee, i really expected you to come in, last night, and there really _wasn't_ any bone in it. surely, you don't think i'm going to _invite_ you into my room, do you?" "i can't see why not. however, since no valid system of logic seems to apply, i accept your decision as a fact. by the same reasoning--however invalid--if i ask you again you will again refuse. so all that's left, i guess, is for me to drag you into my room by force." he put his left arm around her and applied a tiny pressure against her side; under which she began to move slowly toward his door. "you admit that you're using force?" she asked. her face was unreadable; her mental block was at its fullest force. "that i'm being coerced? definitely?" "definitely," he agreed. "at least ten dynes of sheer brute force. not enough to affect a tape, but enough, i hope, to affect you. if it isn't, i'll use more." "oh, ten dynes is enough. just so it's force." she raised her face toward his and threw both arms around his neck. his right arm went into action with his left, and cleander garlock forgot all about dynes and tapes. after a time she disengaged one arm; reached out; opened his door. he gathered her up and, lips still locked to lips, carried her over the threshold. * * * a few jumps later they met their first really old arpalone. this inspector was so old that his skin, instead of the usual bright, clear cobalt blue, was dull and tending toward gray. the old fellow was strangely garrulous, for a guardian; he wanted them to pause a while and gossip. "yes, i am lonesome," he admitted. "it has been a long time since i exchanged thoughts with anyone. you see, nobody has visited this planet--groobe, its name is--since almost all our humanity was killed, a few periods ago...." "killed? how?" garlock asked sharply. "not dilipic?" "oh, you have seen them? i never have, myself. no, nothing nearly that bad. merely the ozobes. the world itself was scarcely harmed at all. rehabilitation will be a simple matter, so there's no real reason why some of those engineers...." "the beast!" lola shot a tight-beam thought at her husband. "who cares anything about the rock and dirt of a _planet_? it's the people that count and his are dead and he's perfectly _complaisant_ about it--just _lonesome_!" "don't let it throw you, pet," james soothed. "he's an arpalone, you know; not a sociological anthropologist." "... shouldn't come out here and spend a few hours once in a while, but they don't. too busy with their own business, they say. but while you are physically human, mentally you are not. you're all too ... too ... i can't put my thought exactly on it, but ... more as though you were human fighters, if such a thing could be possible." "we are fighters. where we come from, most human beings are fighters." "oh? i never heard of such a thing. where can you be from?" this took much explanation, since the arpalone had never heard of inter-galactic travel. "you are willing, then, to fight side by side with us arpalones against the enemies of humanity? you have actually done so, at times, and won?" "we certainly have." "i am glad. i am expecting a call for help any time now. will you please give me enough of your mental pattern, doctor garlock, so that i can call you in case of need? thank you." "what makes you think you're going to get an s.o.s. so soon? where from?" "because these ozobe invasions come in cycles, years apart, but there are always several planets attacked at very nearly the same time. we were the first, this time; so there will be one or two others very shortly." "do they always ... kill all the people?" lola asked. "oh, no. scarcely half of the time. depends on how many fighters the planet has, and how much outside help can get there soon enough." "your call could come from any of the other solar systems in this neighborhood, then?" garlock asked. "yes. there are fifteen inhabited planets within about six light-years of us, and we form a close-knit group." "what are these ozobes?" "animals. warm-blooded, but egg-layers, not mammals. like this," and the inspector spread in their minds a picture of a creature somewhat like the flying tigers of hodell, except that the color was black, shading off to iridescent green at the extremities. also, it was armed with a short and heavy, but very sharp, sting. "they say that they come from space, but i don't believe it," the old fellow went on. "what would a warm-blood be doing out in space? besides, they couldn't find anybody to lay their eggs in out there. no, sir, i think they live right here on groobe somewhere, maybe holed up in caves or something for ten or thirteen years ... but that wouldn't make sense, either, would it? i just don't know...." * * * garlock finally broke away from the lonesome inspector and the _pleiades_ started down. "that's the most utterly _horrible_ thing i ever heard of in my life!" lola burst out. "like wasps--only worse--_people_ aren't bugs! why don't all the planets get together and develop something to kill every ozobe in every system of the group?" "that one has got too many bones in it for me to answer," james said. "i'm going to get hold of that engineer as soon as we land," lola said, darkly, "and stick a pin into him." they found the engineering office easily enough, in a snug camp well outside a large city. they grounded the starship and went out on foot; enjoying contact with solid ground. the head engineer was an arpalone, too--engineers were not a separate race, but dwellers on a planet of extremely high technology--but he did know anything about space-drives. his specialty was rehabilitation; he was top boss of a rehab crew.... * * * then lola pushed garlock aside. yes, the ozobes came from space. he was sure of it. yes, they laid eggs in human bodies. yes, they probably stayed alive quite a while--or might, except for the rehab crew. no, he didn't _know_ what would hatch out--he'd never let one live that long, but what the hell else _could_ hatch except ozobes? no, not one. not one single damn one. if just one ever did, on any world where he bossed the job, he'd lose his job as boss and go to the mines for half a year.... "ridiculous!" lola snapped. "if ozobes hatched, they couldn't possibly have come from space. if they _did_ come from space, the adult form would have to be something able to get back into space, some way or other. _that_ is simple elementary biology. don't you see that?" he didn't see it. he didn't give a damn, either. it was none of his business; he was a rehab man. lola ran back to the ship in disgust. "something else is even more ridiculous, and _is_ your business," james told the head engineer. "garlock and i are both engineers--top ones. we know definitely that a one-hundred-percent clean-up on such a job as this--millions--simply can't be done. ever. under any conditions. are you lying in your teeth or are you dumb enough to believe it yourself?" "neither one," the engineer insisted, stubbornly. "i've wondered, myself, at how i could get 'em all, but i always do--every time so far. that's why they give me the big job. i'm good at it." "oh--lola's right, jim," garlock said. "it's the adult form that hatches; something so different they don't even recognize it. something able to get into space. enough survivors to produce the next generation." "sure. i'll tell brownie--she'll be tickled." "she'll be more than tickled--she'll want to hunt up somebody around here with three brain cells working and give 'em an earful." then, to the engineer, "do you know how they rehab a planet that's been leveled flat by the golop?" "you've _seen_ one? i never have, but of course i've studied it. slow, but not too difficult. after killing, the stuff weathers down in a few years--wonderful soil it makes--what makes it slow is that you have to wait fifty or a hundred years for the mountains to get built up again and for the earthquakes to quit...." "excuse me, please--i've got a call--we have to leave, right now." the call was from the inspector. the nearest planet, clamer, was being invaded by the ozobes and needed all the help they could get. * * * in seconds the _pleiades_ was at the port of entry. "where is this clamer?" garlock asked. the inspector pointed a thought; all four followed it. "let's go, jim. maybe...." "just a minute!" lola snapped. she was breathing hard, her eyes were almost shooting sparks as she turned to the old arpalone and drove a thought so forcibly that he winced. "do you so-called 'guardians of humanity' care at all about the humanity you're supposed to be protecting?" she demanded viciously, the thought boring in and twisting, "or are you just loafing on the job and doing as little as you possibly can without getting fired?" belle and garlock looked at each other and grinned. james was surprised and shocked. this woman blowing her top was no brownie montandon any of them knew. "we do everything we possibly can," the inspector was not only shocked, but injured and abused. "if there's any one possible thing we haven't done, even the tiniest...." "there's plenty!" she snapped. "plain, dumb stupidity, then, it must be. there must be _somebody_ around here who has been at least exposed to elementary biology! you should have exterminated these ozobe vermin ages ago. all you have to do is find out what its life cycle is. how many stages and what they are. how the adults get into space and where they go," and she went on, in flashing thoughts, to explain in full detail. "are you smart enough to understand that?" "oh, yes. your thought may be the truth, at that." "and are you interested enough to find out whose business it would be, and follow through on it?" "yes, of course. if it works, i'll be quite famous for suggesting it. i'll give you part of the credit...." "keep the credit--just see to it that it gets _done_!" she whirled on james. "this loss of human life is so _appallingly_ unnecessary! this time we're going to clamer, and nowhere else. push the button, jim." "all i can do is set up for it, pet. whether we...." "we'll get there!" she blazed. "it's high time we got a break. _punch_ it! _this_ time the ship's going to _clamer_, if we have to all get out and _push_ it there! now punch that button!" james pushed the button, glanced into his scanner, and froze; eyes staring. he did not even whistle. belle, however, did; with ear-shattering volume. garlock's mouth fell open in the biggest surprise of his life. they were in the same galaxy! all three had studied charts of nebular configurations so long and so intensely that recognition of a full-sphere identity was automatic and instantaneous. lola, head buried in scanner, had already checked in with the port inspector. "it _is_ clamer!" she shrieked aloud. "i _told_ you it was time for our luck to change, if we pulled hard enough! they are being invaded by ozobes and they did call for help and they didn't think we could possibly get here this fast and we don't need to be inspected because we're compatible or we couldn't have landed on groobe!" for five long minutes garlock held the starship motionless while he studied the entire situation. then he drove a probe through the mental shield of the general in charge of the whole defense operation. "battle-cruiser _pleiades_, captain garlock commanding, reporting for duty in response to your s.o.s. received on groobe." the general, furiously busy as he was, dropped all other business. "but you're _human_! you can't fight!" "watch us. you don't know, apparently, that the ozobe bases are on the far side of your moon. they're bringing their fighters in most of the way in transports." "why, they can't be! they're coming in from all directions from deep space!" "that's what they want you to think. they're built to stand many hours of zero pressure and almost absolute zero cold. question: if we destroy all their transport, say in three hours, can you handle all the fighters who will be in the air or in nearby space at that time?" "very easily. they've hardly started yet. i appoint you admiral-pro-tem garlock, in command of space operations, and will refer to you any other space-fighters who may come. i thank you, sir. good luck." the general returned his attention to his boiling office. his mind was seething with questions as to what these not-human beings were, how or if they knew so much, and so on; but he forced them out of his mind and went, fast and efficient, back to work. james shot the _pleiades_ up to within a thousand miles or so of the moon. "how long does it take to learn this bombing business, jim?" lola asked. "about fifteen seconds. all you have to do is _want_ to. do you, really?" "i really do. if i don't do something to help these people," it did not occur to her that she had already done a tremendous job, "i'll never forgive myself." james showed her; and, much to her surprise, she found it very easy to do. * * * the vessels transporting the invading forces were huge, spherical shells equipped with short-range drives--and with nothing else. no accommodations, no facilities, no food, no water, not even any air. each transport, when filled to the bursting-point with as-yet-docile cargo, darted away; swinging around to approach clamer from some previously-assigned direction. it did not, however, approach the planet's surface. at about two thousand miles out, great ports opened and the load was dumped out into space, to fall the rest of the way by gravity. then the empty shell, with only its one pilot aboard, rushed back for another load. "how heavy shots, clee?" james asked. he and lola were getting into their scanners. "wouldn't take as much as a kiloton equivalent, would it?" "half a kilo is plenty, but no use being too fussy about precision out here." * * * garlock and belle were already bombing; james and lola began. slow and awkward at first, lola soon picked up the technique and was firing blast for blast with the others. no more loaded transport vessels left the moon. no empty one, returning toward the moon, reached there. in much less than the three hours garlock had mentioned, every ozobian transport craft had been destroyed. "and now the real job begins," garlock said, as james dropped the starship down to within a few miles of the moon's surface. that surface was cratered and jagged, exactly like that of the half always facing clamer. no sign of activity could be seen by eye, nor anything unusual. even the immense trap-doors, all closed now, matched exactly their surroundings. underground, however, activity was violently intense; and, now, confused in the extreme. "why, there isn't a single adult anywhere!" lola exclaimed. "i thought the whole place would be full of 'em!" "so did i," belle said. "however, by hindsight, it's plain enough. their job done, they were killed and eaten. last meal, perhaps." "i'm afraid so. whatever they were, they had hands and brains. just _look_ at those shops and machines!" "what do we do, boss?" james asked. "run a search pattern first?" "we'll have to, i guess, before we can lay the job out." it was run and garlock frowned in thought. "almost half the moon covered--honeycombed. we'll have to fine-tooth it. around the periphery first, then spiral into the center. this moon isn't very big, but even so this is going to be a hell of a long job. any suggestions, anybody? jim?" "the only way, i guess. you can't do it hit-or-miss. i'm _damn_ glad we've got plenty of stuff in our op field and plenty of hydride for the engines. the horses will all know they've been at work before they get the field filled up again." "so will you, junior, believe me.... ready, all? start blasting." then, for three hours, the _pleiades_ moved slowly--for her--along a plotted and automatically-controlled course. it was very easy to tell where she had been; the sharply-cut, evenly-spaced, symmetrical pits left by the galaxian's full-conversion blasts were entirely different from the irregularly-cratered, ages-old original surface. "knock off, brownie," garlock said then. "go eat all you can hold and get some sleep. come back in three hours. jim, cut our speed to seventy-five percent." lola shed her scanner, heaved a tremendous sigh of relief, and disappeared. three silent hours later--all three were too intensely busy to think of anything except the work in hand--lola came back. "take belle's swath, brownie. okay, belle, you can lay off. three hours." "i'll stay," belle declared. "go yourself; or send jim." "don't be any more of a damn fool than you have to. i said beat it." "and i said i wouldn't. i'm just as good...." "chop it off!" garlock snapped. "it isn't a case of being just as good as. it's a matter of physical reserves. jim and i have more to draw on for the long shifts than you have. so get the hell out of here or i'll stop the ship and slap you even sillier than you are now." belle threw up her head, tossing her shoulder-length green mop in her characteristic gesture of defiance; but after holding garlock's hard stare for a moment she relaxed and smiled. "okay, clee--and thanks for the kind words." she disappeared and the work went on. and finally, when all four were so groggy that they could scarcely think, the job was done and checked. clamer's moon was as devoid of life as any moon had ever been. * * * lola pitched her scanner at its rack and threw herself face-down on a davenport, sobbing uncontrollably. james sat down beside her and soothed her until she quieted down. "you'd better eat something, sweetheart, and then for a good, long sleep." "eat? why, i couldn't, jim, not possibly." "let her sleep first, i think, jim," belle said, and followed with her eyes as jim picked his wife up and carried her into the corridor. "we'd better eat _something_, i suppose," belle said, thoughtfully. "i don't feel like eating, either, but i never realized until this minute just how much this has taken out of me and i'd better start putting it back in.... she did a wonderful job, clee, even if she couldn't take it full shift toward the last." "i'll say she did. i hated like the devil to let her work that way, but ... you knew i was scared witless every second until we topped off." exhausted and haggard as she was, belle laughed. "i know damn-blasted well you weren't; but i know what you mean. fighting something you don't know anything about, and can't guess what may happen next, is tough. seconds count." side by side, they strolled toward the alcove. "i simply didn't think she had it in her," belle marveled. "she didn't. she hasn't. it'll take her a week to get back into shape." "right. she was going on pure nerve at the last--nothing else ... but she did a job, and she's so sweet and fine.... i wonder, clee, if ... if i've been missing the boat...." "you have not." garlock sent the thought so solidly that belle jumped. "if you'd just let yourself be, you'd be worth a million of her, just as you stand." "yes? you lie in your teeth, cleander, but i love it.... oh, i don't know what i want to eat--if anything." "i'll think up yours, too, along with mine." "please. something light, and just a little." "yeah. sit down. just a light snack--a two-pound steak, rare; a bowl of mushrooms fried in butter; french fries, french dips, salad, and a quart of coffee. the same for me, except more of each. here we are." "why, clee, i couldn't _possibly_ eat half of that...." then, after a quarter of it was gone, "i _am_ hungry, at that--simply ravenous. i could eat a horse and saddle, and chase the rider." "that's what i thought. i knew i could, and figured you accordingly." * * * they ate those tremendous meals slowly, enjoying every bite and sip; in an atmosphere of friendliness and good fellowship; chatting on a wide variety of subjects as they ate. neither was aware of the fact that this was the first time they had ever been on _really_ friendly terms. and finally every dish and container was empty, almost polished clean. "one hundred percent capacity--can chew but can't swallow," garlock said then, lighting two cigarettes and giving belle one. "how's that for a masterly job of calibration?" "me, too. it'll pass." belle sighed in repletion. "your ability to estimate the exact capacity of containers is exceeded only by your good looks and by the size of your feet. and now to hit the good old sack for an indefinite but very long period of time." "you chirped it, birdie." still eminently friendly, the two walked together to their doors. belle put up a solid block and paused, irresolute, twisting the toe of one slipper into the carpet. "clee, i ... i wonder ... if...." her voice died away. "i know what you mean." he put his arms around her gently, tenderly, and looked deep into her eyes. "i want to tell you something, belle. you're a woman, not in seven thousand million women, but in that many planets full of women. what it takes, you very definitely and very abundantly have got. and you aren't the only one that's pooped. i don't need company tonight, either. i'm going to sleep until i wake up, if it takes all day. or say, if you wake up first, why not punch me and we'll have breakfast together?" "that's a thought. do the same for me. good night, clee." "good night, ace." he kissed her, as gently as he had been holding her, opened her door, closed it after her, and stepped across the corridor into his own room. "_what_ a man!" belle breathed to herself, behind the solid screens of her room. "he thought i was too tired, not just scared to death too. what a _man_! belle bellamy, you ought to be kicked from here to tellus...." then she threw back her head, drove a hard little fist into a pillow, and spoke aloud through clenched teeth. "no, damn and blast it, i _won't_ give in. i _won't_ love him. i'll take the project away from him if it's the last thing i ever do in this life!" * * * she woke up the next morning--not morning, either, since it was well after noon--a little before garlock did, but not much. when she went into his room he was shaved and fully dressed except for one shoe, which he was putting on. "hi, boss! better we eat, huh? not only am i starving by inches, but if we don't eat pretty quick we'll get only one meal today instead of three. did you eat your candy bar?" "i sure did, ace." "oh, i'm still 'ace'? you can kiss me, then," and she raised her face toward his. he kissed her, still tenderly, and they strolled to and through the main and into the alcove. james and lola, the latter looking terribly strained and worn, had already eaten, but joined them in their after-breakfast coffee and cigarettes. "you've checked, of course," garlock said. "everything on the beam?" "dead center. even to lola and her biologists. everybody's full of joy and gratitude and stuff--as well as information. and we managed to pry ourselves loose without waking you two trumpet-of-doom sleepers up. so we're ready to jump again. i wonder where in _hell_ we'll wind up _this_ time." "i'm glad you said that, jim." garlock said. "it gives me the nerve to spring a thing on you that i've been mulling around in my mind ever since we landed here." "nerve? you?" james asked, incredulously. "pass the coffee-pot around again, brownie. if that character there said what i heard him say, this'll make your hair stand straight up on end." "on our jumps we've had altogether too much power and no control whatever...." garlock paused in thought. "like a rookie pitcher," belle suggested. "uh-uh," lola objected. "it _couldn't_ be that wild. he'd have to stand with his back to the plate and pitch the ball over the center-field stands and seven blocks down-town." "cut the persiflage, you two," garlock ordered. "consider three things. first, as you all know, i've been trying to figure out a generator that would give us intrinsic control, but i haven't got any farther with it than we did back on tellus. second, consider all the jumps we've made except this last one. every time we've taken off, none of us has had his shield really up. you, jim, were concentrating on the drive, and so were wide open to it. the rest of us were at least thinking about it, and so were more or less open to it. not one of us has ever ordered it to take us to any definite place; in fact, i don't believe that anyone of us has ever even suggested a destination. each one of us has been thinking, at the instant of energization of the fields, exactly what you just said, and with exactly the same emphasis. "third, consider this last jump all by itself. it's the first time we've ever stayed in the same galaxy. it's the first time we've ever gone where we wanted to. and it's the first time--here's the crux, as i see it--that any of us has been concentrating on any destination at the moment of firing the charge. brownie was willing the _pleiades_ to this planet so hard that we all could taste it. the rest of us, if not really pushing to get here, were at least not opposed to the idea. check?" "check." "that's right." "yes, i was pushing with all my might," came from the three listeners, and james went on: "are you saying the damn thing's _alive_?" "no. i'm saying i don't believe in miracles. i don't believe in coincidence--that concept is as meaningless as that of paradox. i certainly do _not_ believe that we hit this planet by chance against odds of almost infinity to one. so i've been looking for a reason. i found one. it goes against my grain--against everything i've ever believed--but, since it's the only possible explanation, it must be true. the only possible director of the gunther drive _must_ be the mind." "hell's blowtorches--now you're _insisting_ that the damn thing's alive." "far from it. it's brownie who's alive. it was brownie who got us here. nothing else--repeat, _nothing_ else--makes sense." james pondered for a full minute. "i wouldn't buy it except for one thing. if you, the hardest-boiled skeptic that ever went unhung, can feed yourself the whole bowl of such a mess as that, i can at least take a taste of it. shoot." "okay. you know that we don't know anything really fundamental about either teleportation or the drive. i'm sure now that the drive is simply mechanical teleportation. if you tried to 'port yourself without any idea of where you wanted to go, where do you think you'd land?" "you might scatter yourself all over space--no, you wouldn't. you wouldn't move, because it wouldn't be teleportation at all. destination is an integral part of the concept." "exactly so--but only because you've been conditioned to it all your life. this thing hasn't been conditioned to anything." "like a new-born baby," lola suggested. "life again," james said. "i can't see it--too many bones in it. pure luck, even at those odds, makes a lot more sense." "and to make matters worse," garlock went on as though neither of them had spoken. "just suppose that a man had four minds instead of one and they weren't working together. then where would he go?" this time, james simply whistled; the girls stared, speechless. "i think we've proved that my school of mathematics was right--the thing was built to operate purely at random. fotheringham was wrong. however, i missed the point that if control is possible, the controller must be a mind. such a possibility never occurred to me or anyone working with me. or to fotheringham or to anybody else." "i can't say i'm sold, but it's easy to test and the results can't be any worse. let's go." "how would you test it?" "same way you would. only way. first, each one of us alone. then pairs and threes. then all four together. fifteen tests in all. no. three destinations for each set-up; near, medium, and far. except tellus, of course; we'd better save that shot until we learn all we can find out. everybody not in the set should screen up as solidly as they can set their blocks--eyes shut, even, and concentrating on something else. check?" james did not express the thought that tellus must by now be so far away that no possible effort could reach it; but he could not repress the implication. "check. i'll concentrate on a series of transfinite numbers. belle, you work on the possible number of shades of the color green. lola, on how many different perfumes you can identify by smell. jim, hit the button." chapter since the tests took much time, and were strictly routine in nature, there is no need to go into them in detail. at their conclusion, garlock said: "first: either jim alone, or lola alone, or jim and lola together, can hit any destination within any galaxy, but can't go from one galaxy to another. "second: either belle or i, or any combination containing either of us without the other, has no control at all. "third: belle and i together, or any combination containing both of us, can go intergalactic under control. "in spite of confession being supposed to be good for the soul, i don't like to admit that we've put gravel in the gear-box--do you, belle?" garlock's smile was both rueful and forced. "you can play _that_ in spades." belle licked her lips; for the first time since boarding the starship she was acutely embarrassed. "we'll have to, of course. it was all my fault--it makes me look like a damned stupid juvenile delinquent." "not by nineteen thousand kilocycles, since neither of us had any idea. i'll be glad to settle for half the blame." * * * "will you please stop talking sanskrit?" james asked. "or lep it, so we two innocent bystanders can understand it?" "will do," and garlock went on in thought. "remember what i said about this drive not being conditioned to anything? i was wrong. belle and i have conditioned it, but badly. we've been fighting so much that something or other in that mess down there has become conditioned to her; something else to me. my part will play along with anyone except belle; hers with anybody except me. anti-conditioning, you might call it. anyway, they lay back their ears and balk." "oh, hell!" james snorted. "talk about gobbledygook! you are still saying that that conglomeration of copper and silver and steel and insulation that we built ourselves has got intelligence, and i still won't buy it." "by no means. remember, jim, that this concept of mechanical teleportation, and that the mind is the only possible controller, are absolutely new. we've got to throw out all previous ideas and start new from scratch. i postulate, as a working hypothesis drawn from original data as modified by these tests, that that particular conglomeration of materials generates at least two fields about the properties of which we know nothing at all. that one of those properties is the tendency to become preferentially resonant with one mind and preferentially non-resonant with another. clear so far?" "as mud. it's a mighty tough blueprint to read." james scowled in thought. "however, it's no harder to swallow than sanderson's theory of teleportation. or, for that matter, the actual basic coupling between mind and ordinary muscular action. does that mean we'll have to rebuild half a million credits' worth of ... no, you and belle can work it, together." "i don't know." garlock paced the floor. "i simply can't see any _possible_. mechanism of coupling." "subconscious, perhaps," belle suggested. "for my money that whole concept is invalid," garlock said. "it merely changes 'i don't know' to 'i can't know' and i don't want any part of that. however, 'unconscious' could be the answer ... if so, we may have a lever.... belle, are you willing to bury your hatchet for about five minutes--work with me like a partner ought to?" "i certainly am, clee. honestly. screens down flat, if you say so." "half-way's enough, i think--you'll know when we get down there." her mind joined his and he went on, "ignore the machines themselves completely. consider only the fields. feel around with me--keep tuned!--see if there's anything at all here that we can grab hold of and manipulate, like an op field except probably very much finer. i'll be completely damned if i can see how this type of gunther generator can put out a manipulable field, but it must. that's the only--o-w-r-c-h-h!" this last was a yell of pure mental agony. both hands flew to his head, his face turned white, sweat poured, and he slumped down unconscious. he came to, however, as the other three were stretching him out on a davenport. belle was mopping his face with a handkerchief. "what happened, clee?" all three were exclaiming at once. "i found my manipulable field, but a bomb went off in my brain when i straightened it out." he searched his mind anxiously, then smiled. "but no damage done--just the opposite. it opened up a gunther cell i didn't know i had. didn't it sock you, too, belle?" "uh-uh," she said, more than half bitterly. "i must not have one. that makes you a super-prime, if i may name a new classification." "nonsense! of course you've got it. unconscious, of course, like me, but without it you couldn't have conditioned the field. but why.... oh, what bit me was the one conditioned to me." "oh, nice!" belle exclaimed. "come on, clee--let's go get mine!" "do you want a bit of knowledge _that_ badly, belle?" lola asked. "besides, wait, he isn't strong enough yet." "of course he's strong enough. a little knock like that? _want_ it! i'd give my right leg and ... and almost _anything_ for it. it didn't kill him, so it won't kill me." "there may be an easier way," garlock said. "i wouldn't wish a jolt like that onto my worst enemy. but that had two hundred kilovolts and four hundred kilogunts behind it. since i know now where and what the cell is, i think i can open it up for you without being quite so rough." "oh, lovely. come in, quick! i'm ready now." * * * garlock went in; and wrought. it took longer--half an hour, in fact--but it was very much easier to take. "what did it feel like, belle?" lola asked, eagerly. "you winced like he was drilling teeth and struck a couple of nerves." "uh-uh. more like being stretched all out of shape. like having a child, maybe, in a small way. let's go, clee!" they joined up and went. "ha, _there_ you are, you cantankerous little fabrication of nothings!" belle said aloud, in a low, throaty, gloating voice. "take _that_--and _that_! and now behave yourself. if you don't, mama spank--but _good_!" then, breaking connection, "thanks a million, clee; you're tall, solid gold. do you want to run some more tests, to see which of us is the intergalactic transporter?" "not unless you do." "who, me? i'll be tickled to death not to; just like i'd swallowed an ostrich feather. back to tellus, then?" "tellus, here we come," garlock said. "jim, what are the tellurian figures for exactly five hundred miles up?" "i'll punch 'em--got 'em in my head." james did so. "shall brownie and i set our blocks?" "no," belle said. "nothing can interfere with us now." "ready." garlock sat down in the pilot's seat. "cluster 'round, chum." * * * belle leaned against the back of the chair and put both arms around garlock's neck. "i'm clustered." "the spot we're shooting at is exactly over the exact center of the middle blast-pit at port gunther. in sync?" "to a skillionth of a whillionth of a microphase. i'm _exactly_ on and locked. shoot." "now, you sheet-iron bucket of nuts and bolts, _jump_!" and garlock snapped the red switch. earth lay beneath them. so did port gunther. "hu-u-u-uh!" garlock's huge sigh held much more of relief than of triumph. "they did it! we're home!" lola shrieked; and, breaking into unashamed and unrestrained tears, went into her husband's extended arms. "cry ahead, sweet. i'd bawl myself if garlock wasn't looking. maybe i will, anyway," james said. then, extending his right arm to garlock and to belle, "i was scared to death you couldn't make it except by back tracking. good going, you two primes," but his thoughts said vastly more than his words. belle's eyes, too, were wet; garlock's own were not quite dry. "you weren't as sure as you looked, then, that we could do it the hard way," belle said. "all inside, i was one quivering mass of jelly." "afterward, you mean. you were solid as gibraltar when i fired the charge. you're the kind of woman a man wants with him when the going's tough. slide around here a little, so i can get hold of you." garlock released belle--finally--and turned to the pilot, who was just pulling a data-sheet from compy the computer. "how far did we miss target, jim?" * * * james held up his right hand, thumb and forefinger forming a circle. "you're one point eight seven inches high, and off center point five three inches to the north northeast by east. i hereby award each of you the bronze medal of marksman first. shall i take her down now or do you want to check in from here first?" "neither ... i think. what do you think, belle?" "right. not until you-know-what." "check. until we decide whether or not to let them know just yet that we can handle the ship. if we do, how many of our taped reports we turn in and how many we toss down the chute." "i get it!" james exclaimed, with a spreading grin. "_that_, my dear people, is something i never expected to live long enough to see--our straight-laced doctor garlock applying the bugger factor to a research problem!" "i prefer the term 'monk's coefficient,' myself," garlock said, "from the standpoint of mathematical rigor." "at polytech we called it 'finagle's formula'," belle commented. "the most widely applicable operator known." "have you three lost your minds?" lola demanded. "that's nothing to joke about--you wouldn't destroy official reports! all that astronomy and anthropology that nobody ever even dreamed of before? you _couldn't_! not _possibly_!" "each of us knows just as well as you do how much data we have, exactly how new and startling it is; but we've thought ahead farther than you have. none of us likes the idea of destroying it a bit better than you do. we won't, either, without your full, unreserved, wholehearted consent, nor without your fixed, iron-clad, unshakable determination never to reveal any least bit of it." "that language is far too strong for me. i'd like to be able to go along with you, but on those terms, i simply can't." "i think you can, when you've thought it through. you've met alonzo p. ferber, haven't you? read him?" "one glimpse; that was all i could stand. he pawed me mentally and wanted to paw me physically, the first time i ever saw him." "check. so i'm going to ask you two questions, which you may answer as an anthropologist, as lola montandon, as mrs. james james james the ninth, as a member of our team, or as any other character you choose to assume. remembering that ferber's a gunther first--and pretends to be an operator whenever he can get away with it--should he, or anyone like him, _ever_ be allowed to visit hodell? second question: if there is any possible way for him to get there, can he be made to stay away?" "oh ... grand lady neldine and that perfectly stunning grand lady lemphi they picked out for jim ... they're such _nice_ people ... and the gunther genes...." as lola thought on, her expressive face showed a variety of conflicting emotions before it hardened into decision. "the answer to both questions--the only possible answer--is no. i subscribe; on the exact terms you stipulated. and you don't believe, clee, that my thesis had anything to do with my holding out at first?" "certainly i don't. besides...." "what thesis?" belle asked. * * * "for my ph.d. in anthropology. i thought i had it made, but it just went down the chute. and i don't know if any of you realize just how nearly impossible it is to make a really worthwhile original contribution to science in that field." "as i started to tell you, brownie," garlock said, "i don't think you've lost a thing. there's a bigger and better one coming up." "_what_?" "sh-h-h-h," belle stage-whispered. "he's got a theory--such a weirdie that he won't talk about it to anybody." "it isn't a theory yet--at least, not ripe enough to pick--but it's something more than a hunch," garlock said. "but what could _possibly_ make as good a thesis as those extra-galactic tapes?" lola wailed. "they would have made my thesis a summer breeze." "more like a hurricane--the hottest thing since doctorate disputations first started," garlock said. "however, as i started to say twice before, it still will be. intra-galactic tapes will be just as good. in this case, better." "w-e-l-l ... possibly. but we haven't any." "that is what this conference is about. we can't destroy the stuff we have unless we can replace it with something better. my idea is that we should visit a few--say fifty--tellus-type planets in this galaxy; the ones closest to tellus. i'm pretty sure they'll be inhabited by _homo sapiens_. there's a chance, of course, that they'll be like hodell and the others we've seen; in which case i don't see how we can keep gunther genes confined to earth. however, i'm pretty sure in my own mind that we'll find them all very much like tellus, gunther and all. what would you think of _that_ for a thesis, lola?" "oh, wonderful!" "okay. now to get back to whether we want to check in or not. i don't like to duck out without letting them know we can handle this heap--after a fashion, that is; they don't need to know we can really handle it--but we've got nothing we can report and fatso will blow his stack--oh-oh! should've remembered tellus isn't hodell; the tri-di's setting up! belle, you take it. she'd give me fatso, because he wants to chew me out, but she won't put him on for you. cut her throat, but good! brownie, hide somewhere! jim, set up for beta centauri--not alpha, but beta--and fast! give her hell, belle!" garlock sent this last thought from behind a davenport, from which hiding-place he could see the tri-di screen and both belle and james; but anyone on the screen could not see him. * * * miss foster's likeness appeared upon the screen. chancellor ferber's secretary was a big woman, but not fat; middle-aged, gray-haired, wearing consciously the aura and the domineering, overbearing expression of a woman who has great power and an even greater drive to exert her authority. "why haven't you reported in?" miss foster snapped, with a glare that was pure frost. "you arrived thirteen minutes ago. such delay is inexcusable. get garlock." "captain garlock is off-watch; asleep. i, commander bellamy, am in command." standing stiffly at attention, belle paused to exchange glares with the woman across the big desk. if miss foster's was frost, commander bellamy's was helium ice. "ready to go, jim?" belle flashed the thought. "half a minute yet." "any time after i sign off. pick your own spot." then aloud into the screen: "i will report to chancellor ferber. i will not report to chancellor ferber's secretary." "doctor james!" miss foster's voice was neither as cold nor as steady as it had been. "bring that ship down at once!" james made no sign that he had heard the order. belle stood changelessly stiff. she had not for an instant taken her coldly competent eyes from those of the woman on the ground. her emotionless, ultra-refrigerated voice went, as ever, directly into the screen. "i trust that this conversation is being recorded?" "it certainly is!" "good. i want it on record that we, the personnel of the starship _pleiades_, are not subject to the verbal orders of the chancellor's secretary. you will now connect me with chancellor ferber, please." "the chancellor is in conference and is not to be disturbed. i _have_ authority to act for him. you will report to me, and do it right now." foster's voice rose almost to a scream. "that ground has been covered. since you have taken it upon yourself to exceed your authority to such an extent as to refuse to connect the officer in command of the _pleiades_ with the chancellor, i cannot report to him either the reasons why we are not landing at this time or when we expect to return to tellus. you are advised that we may leave at any instant, just like that!" belle snapped her finger under the imaged nose. "you may inform the chancellor, or not inform him if you prefer, that our control of the starship _pleiades_ is something less than perfect. i do not know exactly how many seconds longer we will be here. commander bellamy signing off. over and out." "_commander_ bellamy, indeed! commander my left foot!" miss foster was screaming now, in thwarted fury. "you're no more a commander than my lowest office-girl is! just wait 'till you get down here, you green-haired hussy, you shameless notor...." the set went instantaneously from full volume to zero sound as james drove the red button home. "belle, you honey!" garlock scrambled out from behind the davenport, seized her around the waist, and swung her, feet high in air, through four full circles before he let her down and kissed her vigorously. "you little _sweetheart_! you're the first living human being ever to really pull foster's cork!" "_what_ a goat-getting!" james applauded. "that will go down in history as the star-spangled act of the century." * * * belle was, however, unusually diffident. "i stuck my neck out a mile--worse, clee's. i'm sorry, clee. i had to have some weight to throw around, and i had only a second to think, and that was the first thing i thought of, and after half a minute she made me so _damn_ mad that i went entirely too far." "uh-uh. just far enough. that was a _perfect_ job." "but she'll never forget that, and she'll crucify you, as well as me, when we land. she knows i'm not a commander." "she just thinks you ain't. the official log will show, though, that after only one day out i discovered that we should all be officers--one captain and three commanders--with pay and perquisites of rank. i'll think up good and sufficient reasons for it between now and when i make up the log." "but you can't! or can you, really?" "well, nobody told me i couldn't, so i assumed the right. besides, you didn't tell her commander of what, so i'll make it stick, too--see if i don't. or else i'll tear two or three offices apart finding out why i can't. you can be sure of that." "all that may not be necessary," lola said. "that tape will never be heard. i'll bet she's erased it already." "perhaps; but ours isn't going to be erased--it will be heard exactly where it will do the most good." "i'm awfully glad you don't think we're on the hook. all that's left, then, is that second-in-command business. both of you know, of course, that that was just window-dressing." "you were telling the truth and didn't know it," james said, cheerfully. "you have actually been second-in-command ever since the drive tests." "i haven't, and i won't. surely you don't think i'm enough of a heel, jim, to step on your toes like that?" "nothing like that involved. you tell her, clee." "gunther ability is what counts. you're a prime, jim's an operator; so, now that we can handle the heap, you'll have to be second-in-command whether you like it or not. any time you can out-gunther me we'll trade places. and you won't have to take the job away from me--i'll give it to you." "but ... no hard feelings, jim? no reservations? screens down?" "none whatever. in fact, i'm relieved. i'm gunthered for this board here--for that one i'm not. come in and look; and shake on it." * * * belle looked; and while they were shaking hands, she flashed a thought at lola. "do you know that we've got two of the finest men that ever lived?" "i've known that for a long time," lola flashed back, "but you've hardly started to realize what they _really_ are." "well, shall we start earning our pay and perquisites by getting to work on this planet, that we haven't even looked--wait a minute! we're just about to open up the galaxy, aren't we?" they were. "then there'll have to be some kind of a unifying and correlating authority--a galactic council or something--and the quicker it's set up the better; the less confusion and turmoil and jockeying-for-position there will be. question: should this authority be political?" "it should _not_!" james declared. "it takes united worlds seven solid days of debate to decide whether or not to buy one lead pencil." "military--or naval, i suppose it'd be--that's what clee's driving at," belle said. "you're wonderful, clee--simply priceless! we're officers of the brand-new galactic navy. subject to civilian control, of course, but the civilians will be the united galaxian societies of the galaxy, and nobody else. _beautiful_, clee! there are ten operators, jim. right?" * * * "check. brownie and i are here; the other eight are running the galaxian society under clee. and the whole society eats out of his hand." "i don't know about that, but belle and i together could swing it, i think." "i'll say we could," belle breathed. "and i simply can't wait to see you kick fatso's teeth in with _this_ one!" "i don't like the word 'navy'," garlock said. "it's tied definitely to warfare. how about calling it the 'galactic service'? applicable to either war or peace. brass hats will think of us in terms of war, even though we will actually work for peace. any objections?" there were no objections. "about the uniforms," lola said, eagerly. "space-black and star-white, with chromium comets and things on the shoulders...." "to hell with uniforms," garlock broke in. "why do women have to go off the deep end on clothes?" "she's right--you're wrong, clee," james said. "without a uniform you won't get off the ground, not even with the society. and you'll be talking to top planetary brass. also, they're gunthered plenty--you can feel their op field clear out here." "could be," garlock conceded. "okay, you girls dope it out to suit yourselves. but think you can stand it, belle, to wear more than twelve square inches of clothes?" "wait 'til you see it, chum. i've been designing a uniform for myself for positively _years_." "i can't wait. and you're a captain, of course." "huh? you can't have two cap.... oh, i see. primes. i appreciate that, clee. thanks." "hold on, both of you," james said. "you haven't thought this through far enough. suppose we meet forces already organized? better start high than low. you've got to be top admiral, clee." "rocket-oil! suppose we don't find anything at all?" "you're right, jim," belle said. "clee, you talk like a man with a paper nose. it's _you_ who's been yowling for two solid years about being ready for _anything_. we've got to do just that." "correction accepted. brief me." "ranks should be different from those of united worlds. they should be descriptive, but impressive. tops could be galactic admiral. that's you. vice galactic admiral; me...." "galactic vice admiral would be better," lola said. "accepted. those two we'll make stick come hell or space-warps. right?" garlock did not reply immediately. "up to either one of two points," he agreed, finally. "what points?" "war, or being out-gunthered. top gunther takes top place; man, woman, bird, beast, fish, or bug-eyed monster." "oh." belle was staggered for a moment. "no war, of course. as to the other ... i hadn't thought of that." "there are a lot of things none of us has thought of, but as amended i'll buy it." "then several regional admirals, each with his regional vice admiral. then system admirals and vices, and world or planetary--naming the planet, you know--admirals and vices. let the various galaxian societies take over from there down. how do you like _them_ potatoes, buster?" "nice. and formal address, intra-ship, will be mister and miss. jim and brownie?" they liked it. "where do we fit in?" james asked. "pick your own spots," garlock said. "if we stick to the solar system we aren't so apt to get bumped by primes. so make me solar system admiral and brownie my vice." "okay. how long will it take you, belle, to materialize those uniforms?" "fifteen seconds longer than it takes the converter to scan us. lola's color scheme is right, and i've got everything else down to the last curlicue of chrome. let's go." * * * they went: and came back into the main in uniform. belle had really done a job. that of the men, while something on the spectacular side, was more or less conventional, with stiff-visored, screened, heavily-chromed caps; but the women's! slippers, overseas caps, shorts and jackets--but what jackets! "well...." garlock said, after examining the two girls speechlessly for a good half minute. "it doesn't look _exactly_ like a spray-on job; but if you ever take a deep breath it'll split from here to there. fly off--leave you naked as a jay-bird." "oh, no. the fabric stretches a little. see? nothing like a sweater, but a similar effect--perhaps a bit more so." "quite a bit more so, i'd say. however, since operators and primes are automatically stacked like tennick towers, i don't suppose your recruits will be unduly perturbed at, or will squawk too much about, overexposure. are we finally ready to go down and get to work?" "i am," james said. "how do you want to handle it?" "run a search pattern. belle and i will center their op field and check on ops and primes. you two probe at will." around and around the planet, in brief bursts of completely incomprehensible speed, the huge ship darted; the biggest, solidest, yet most elusive and fantastic "flying saucer" ever to visit that world. the tremendous oceans and six great continents were traversed; the ice-caps; the frigid, the temperate, and the torrid zones. wherever she went, powerful and efficient radar scanned and tracked her; wherever she went, excitement seethed. "beta centauri five," garlock reported, after a few minutes. "margonia, they call it. biggest continent and nation named nargoda. capital city margon; margon base on coast nearby. lots of gunther firsts. all the real gunther, though, is clear across the continent. they're building a starship. fourteen ops and two primes--man and woman. deggi delcamp's a big bruiser, with a god-awful lot of stuff. ugly as hell, though. he's a bossy type." "i'm amazed," james played it straight. "i thought all male primes would be just like you. timorous timmies." "huh? oh...." garlock was taken slightly aback, but went on quickly, "what do you think of your opposite number, belle?" he whistled a wolf-call and made hour-glass motions with his hands. "i'd thought of trading you in on a new model, but fao talaho is no bargain, either--and _nobody's_ push-over." "_trade_! you _tomcat_!" belle's nostrils flared. "you know what that bleached-blonde tried to do? high-hat _me!_" "i noticed. when we four get down to business, face to face, there should be some interesting by-products." "you chirped it, boss. primes seem to be such _nice_ people." james rolled his eyes upward and steepled his hands. "if you've got all the dope, no use finishing this search pattern." "go ahead. window dressing. the brass hasn't any idea of what's going on, any more than ours did." the search went on until, "this is it," james reported. "where? over margon base?" "check. kick us over there, ten or twelve hundred miles up." "on the way, boss. looks like your theory is about ready to pick." "it isn't much of a theory yet; just that cultural and evolutionary patterns should be more or less homogeneous within galaxies. until it can explain why so many out-galaxies are just alike it doesn't amount to much. by the way, i'm glad you people insisted on organization and rank and uniforms. the brass is going to take a certain amount of convincing. take over, brownie--this is your dish." "i was afraid of that." the others watched lola drive her probe--a diamond-clear, razor-sharp bolt of thought that no gunther first could possibly either wield or stop--down into the innermost private office of that immense and far-flung base. through lola's inner eyes they saw a tall, trim, handsome, fiftyish man in a resplendent uniform of purple and gold; they watched her brush aside that officer's hard-held mental block. * * * "i greet you, supreme grand marshal entlore, highest commander of the armed forces of nargoda. this is the starship _pleiades_, of system sol, planet tellus. i am sol-system vice-admiral lola montandon. i have with me as guests three of my superior officers of the galactic service, including the galactic admiral himself. we are making a good-will tour of the tellus-type planets of this region of space. i request permission to land and information as to your landing conventions. the landing pad--bottom--of the _pleiades_ is flat; sixty feet wide by one hundred twenty feet long. area loading is approximately eight tons per square foot. solid, dry ground is perfectly satisfactory. while we land vertically, with little or no shock impact, i prefer not to risk damaging your pavement." they all felt the marshal's thoughts race. "starship! tellus--sol, that insignificant type g dwarf! interstellar travel a commonplace! a ship _that_ size and weight--an organized, uniformed, functioning galaxy-wide navy and they don't want to _damage_ my _pavement_! my god!" "good going, brownie! kiss her for me, jim." garlock flashed the thought. entlore, realizing that his every thought was being read, pulled himself together. "i admit that i was shocked, admiral montandon. but landing--really, i have nothing to do with landings. they are handled by...." "i realize that, sir; but you realize that no underling could possibly authorize my landing. that is why i always start at the top. besides, i do not like to waste time on officers of much lower rank than my own, and," lola allowed a strong tinge of good humor to creep into her thought, "the bigger they are, the less apt they are to pass the well-known buck." "you have had experience, i see," the marshal laughed. he _did_ have a sense of humor. "while landing here is forbidden--top secret, you know--would my refusal mean much to you?" "having made satisfactory contact, i introduce you to galactic admiral garlock. take over, sir, please." * * * entlore winced, for the probe garlock used then compared to lola's very much as a diamond drill compares to a piece of soft brass pipe. "it would mean everything to us," garlock assured him. "our mission is a perfectly friendly one. we will have a friendly visit or none. if you do not care for our friendship, another nation will." "that wouldn't do, either, of course." entlore paused in thought. "it boils down to this: i must either welcome you or destroy you." "you may try." garlock grinned in frankly self-satisfied amusement. "however, the best you can do is lithium-hydride fusion missiles in the hundreds-of-megatons range. firecrackers. every once in a while a planet has to try a few such things on us before it will believe that we are powerful as well as friendly. would you like to test our defenses? if so, i will neither take offense nor retaliate." supreme grand marshal entlore was floored. "why ... er ... not at all. i read in your mind...." he broke off, to quell an invasion into his own private office. "damn it, keep _still_!" all four "heard" him yell. "i know they ran a search pattern. i know _that_, too. i know _everything_ about it, i tell you! i'm in full rapport with their supreme grand admiral. there's only the one ship, they're friendly, and i'm inviting them to land here on margon base. give that to the press. say also that entrance restrictions to margon base will not be relaxed at present. grand marshal holson and comoff flurnoy, stay here and tune in. the rest of you get out and _stay_ out! throw all reports about any alien vessel or flying saucer or what-have-you into the waste-basket!" "resume command, please, miss montandon," garlock directed; and withdrew his probe from entlore's mind. "i thank you, supreme grand marshal entlore, for your welcome," lola sent. "i'm sorry that our visits cause so much disturbance, but i suppose it can't be helped. our gunther blocks are down. would you and your two assistants like to teleport out here to us, and con us down yourselves?" lola knew instantly that they could not, and covered deftly for them. "but of course you can't, without knowing a focus spot here in the main. shall i teleport you aboard?" * * * comoff flurnoy's face--she was an attractive, nicely-built red-head wearing throat-mike, earphone, and recorder--turned so pale that a faint line of freckles stood out across the bridge of her nose. she very evidently wanted to scream a protest, but would not. both men, strangely enough, were eager to go. instantly all three were standing in line on the deep-piled rug of the main, facing the four tellurians. seven bodies came rigidly to attention, seven right hands snapped into two varieties of formal salute. standing thus, each party studied the other for a couple of seconds. there was no doubt at all as to which two of the visitors the two nargodian men were studying; but neither of them could quite make up his mind as to which of the black-and-white-clad women to study first or most. the red-head's glance, too, flickered between belle and garlock--incredulous envy and equally incredulous admiration lit her eyes. "at rest, please, fellow-officers," garlock said, and lola performed the necessary introductions, adding, "we do not, however, use titles aboard ship. mister and miss are customary and sufficient." behind each row of officers a long davenport appeared; between them a table loaded with sandwiches, olives, pickles, relishes, fruits, nuts, soft drinks, cigars, and cigarettes. "help yourselves," garlock invited. "we serve neither intoxicants nor drugs, but you should find something there to your taste." "indeed we shall, and thank you," entlore said. "is there any objection, mr. garlock, to miss flurnoy transmitting information of this meeting and of this ship to our base?" "none whatever. send as you please, miss flurnoy, or as mr. entlore directs." "i'm glad i didn't quite scare myself out of coming up here," the communications officer said. "this is the biggest and nicest thrill i ever had. such a thrill that i don't know just where to begin." she cocked an eyebrow at her commanding officer. "as usual. whatever you think should be sent." entlore sent her a steadying thought. then, as the girl settled back with a sandwich in one hand and a tall glass of ginger-ale in the other, he went on, to garlock, "she is a very fine and very strong telepath--by our standards, at least." "by galactic standards also." garlock had of course been checking. "accurate, sharp, wide-range, clear-thinking, and fast. not one of us four could do it any better." "i thank you, mr. garlock," the girl said, with a blush of pleasure--and with scarcely a perceptible pause in her work. * * * a tour of the ship followed; and as it progressed, the more confused and dismayed the two nargodian commanders became. "but no crew at _all_?" holson demanded incredulously. "how can a thing like this _possibly_ work?" "it's fully gunthered," lola explained. "it works itself. that is, almost all the time. whenever we land on any planet for the first time, one of us has to control it. or for any other special job not in its memory banks. when you're ready for us to land i'll show you--it's my turn to work." "miss flurnoy, have they cleared the air over pylon six?" "yes, sir. clearance came through five minutes ago. they are holding it clear for us." "thank you. miss montandon, you may land at your convenience." "thank you, sir." lola took the pilot's chair. "this is the scanner. i pull it over my face and head, so. since i am always in tune with the field...." "what does _that_ mean?" entlore asked, dark foreboding in his mind. "i was afraid of that. you can't feel an operator field. i'm sorry, sir, but that means you can't handle these forces and never will be able to. certain gunther areas of your brain are inoperative. on our scale you are a gunther first...." "on ours, i'm an esper ten, the highest rating in the world--except for a few theoretical crackpots who.... excuse me, please, i shouldn't have said that, in view of what i see happening here." "no offense taken, sir. those who developed the gunther drive were crackpots until they got the first starship out into space. but with this scanner on, i think of where i want to look and i can see it. i then think the ship a few miles sidewise--so--and we are now directly over your pylon six. i'm starting down, but i won't go into free fall." apparent weight grew less and less, until: "this is about enough for you, miss flurnoy?" "just," the comoff agreed, with a gulp. "one pound less and i'm afraid i'll upchuck that lovely lunch i just ate." "we're going fast enough now. everyone sitting down? brace yourselves, please. you'll be about fifty percent overweight for a while." * * * as bodies settled deeper into cushions entlore sent garlock a thought. "we three weigh about five hundred pounds. you lifted us--instantaneously or nearly so, but i'll pass the question of acceleration for the moment--eleven hundred miles straight up. how did you repeal the law of conservation?" "we didn't. we have fusion engines of twenty million horsepower. our operator field, which has a radius of fifteen thousand miles and is charged to an electrogravitic potential of one hundred thousand gunts, stores energy. its action is not exactly like that of an electrical condenser or of a storage battery, but is more or less analogous to both. thus, the energy required to lift you three came from the field, but the amount was so small that it did not lower the potential of the field by any measurable amount. setting this ship down--call it sixty thousand tons for a thousand miles at one gravity--will increase the field's potential by approximately one-tenth of one gunt. have you studied paraphysics?" "no." "it wasn't practical, eh?" garlock smiled. "then i can't make even a stab at explaining instantaneous translation to you. i'll just say that there is no acceleration involved, no time lapse. there is no violation of the law of conservation since departure and arrival points are equi-guntherial. but what i am really interested in is that small group of high espers you mentioned." "yes, i inferred that from miss montandon's comments." entlore fell silent and garlock watched his somber thoughts picture margon base and his nation's capital being attacked and destroyed by a fleet of invincible and invulnerable starships like this _pleiades_. "you are wrong, sir," garlock put in, quietly. "the galactic service has not had, does not and will not have, anything to do with intra-planetary affairs. we have no connection with, and no responsibility to, any world or any group of worlds. we are an arm of the united galaxian societies of the galaxy. our function is to control space. to forbid, to prevent, to rectify any interplanetary or interstellar aggression. above all, to prevent, by means of procedures up to and including total destruction of planets if necessary, any attempt whatever to form any multi-world empire." the three nargodians gasped as one, as much at the scope of the thing as at the calmly cold certainty of ability carried by the thought. "you are transmitting this precisely, miss flurnoy?" entlore asked. "precisely, sir; including background, fringes, connotations, and implications; just as he is giving it to us." "let us assume that your nargodian government decides to conquer all the other nations of your planet margonia. assume farther that it succeeds. we will not object; in fact, we will, as a usual thing, not even be informed of it. if then, however, your government decides that one world is not enough for it to rule and prepares to conquer, or take aggressive action against, any other world, we will be informed and we will step in. first, warning will be given. second, any and all vessels dispatched on such a mission will be annihilated. third, if the offense is continued or repeated, trial will be held before the galactic council and any sentence imposed will be carried out." in spite of garlock's manner and message, both marshals were highly relieved. "you're in plenty of time, with us, sir," entlore said. "we have just sent our first rocket to our nearer moon ... that is, unless that group of--of espers gets their ship off the ground." "how far along are they?" "the ship itself is built, but they are having trouble with their drive. the hull is spherical, and much smaller than this one. it has atomic engines, but no blasts or ion-plates ... but neither has this one!" "exactly; they may be pretty well along. i'd like to get in touch with them as soon as possible. may i borrow a 'talker' like miss flurnoy for a few days? you have others, i suppose?" "yes, but i'll let you have her; it is of the essence that you have the best one available. miss flurnoy?" "yes, sir?" besides reporting, she had been conversing busily with james and belle. "would you like to be assigned to mr. garlock for the duration of his stay on margonia?" "oh, _yes_, sir!" she replied, excitedly. "you are so assigned. take orders from him or from any designate as though i myself were issuing them." "thank you, sir ... but what limits? and do i transmit to and/or record for you, sir?" "no limit. these four galaxians are hereby granted nation-wide top clearance. transmit as usual whatever is permitted." "full reporting is not only permitted, but urged," garlock said. "there is nothing secret about our mission." * * * as the _pleiades_ landed: "if you will give us your focus spot, mr. entlore, we can all 'port to your office and save calling staff cars." "and cause a revolution?" entlore laughed. "apparently you haven't been checking outside." "afraid i haven't. i've been thinking." "take a look. i got orders from the cabinet to put guards wherever people absolutely must not go, and open everything else to the public. i _hope_ there are enough guards to keep a lane open for us, but i wouldn't bet on it." garlock was very glad that the military men's stiff formality had disappeared. "you galaxians took this whole planet by storm while you were still above the stratosphere." * * * there is no need to go into detail concerning the reception and celebration. on earth, one inauguration of a president and one coronation of a monarch were each almost as well covered by broadcasters, if not as turbulently and enthusiastically prolonged. from the _pleiades_ they went to the administration building, where an informal reception was held. thence to the capitol, where the reception was very formal indeed. thence to the grand ballroom of the city's largest hotel, where a tremendous--and long-winded--banquet was served. at garlock's request, all sixteen members of the "crackpot" group--the most active members of the deep space club--had been invited to the banquet. and, even though garlock was a very busy man, his talker tuned in to each one of the sixteen, tuned them all to the galactic admiral, and in odd moments a great deal of business was done. after being told most of the story--in tight-beamed thoughts that comoff flurnoy could not receive--the whole group was wildly enthusiastic. they would change the name of their club forthwith to the galaxian society of margonia. they laid plans for a world-wide organization which would have tremendous prestige and tremendous income. they already had a field--garlock knew about their ship--they wanted the _pleiades_ to move over to it as soon as possible--yes, garlock thought he could do it the following day--if not, as soon as he could.... * * * the _pleiades_ had landed at ten o'clock in the forenoon, local time; the banquet did not come to an end until long after midnight. throughout all this time the four galaxians carried on, without a slip, the act that all this was, to them, old stuff. it was just a little before daylight when they returned, exhausted, to the ship. comoff flurnoy went with them. she was still agog at the wonder of it all as belle and brownie showed her to her quarters. chapter since everyone, including the ebullient comoff, slept late the following morning, they all had brunch instead of breakfast and lunch. all during the meal garlock was preoccupied and stern. "hold everything for a while, jim," he said, when everyone had eaten. "before we move, belle and i have got to have a conference." "not a fatso ferber nine-o'clock type, i hope." james frowned in mock reproach and comoff flurnoy cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "monkey-business on company time is only for big shots like him; not for small fry such as you." "well, it won't be exclusively monkey-business, anyway. while we're gone you might clear with the control tower and take us up into take-off position. come on, belle." he took her by one elbow and led her away. "why, _doctor garlock_." mincing along beside him, pretending high reluctance, she looked up at him wide-eyed. "i'm _surprised_, i really am. i'm _shocked_, too. i'm _not_ that kind of a _girl_, and if i wasn't _afraid_ of losing my _job_ i would _scream_. i _never_ even _suspected_ that _you_ would use your _position_ as my _boss_ to _force_ your _unwelcome attentions_ on a _poor_ and _young_ and _innocent_ and _suffering_...." [illustration: in an unparalleled blast of gunther power the primes of many worlds head toward the meeting on tellus.] inside his room garlock, who had been grinning, sobered down and checked every gunther block--a most unusual proceeding. * * * belle stopped joking in the middle of the sentence. "yeah, _how_ you suffer," he said. "i was just checking to be sure we're prime-proof. i'm not ready for deggi delcamp yet. that guy, belle, as you probably noticed, has got one god-awful load of stuff." "not as much as you have, clee. nor as much push behind what he has got. and his shield wouldn't make patches for yours." "huh? how sure are you of that?" "i'm positive. i'm the one who is going to get bumped, i'm afraid. that fao talaho is a hard-hitting, hard-boiled hellcat on wheels." "i'll be damned. you're wrong. i checked her from stem to gudgeon and you lay over her like a circus tent. what's the answer?" "oh? do i? i'm mighty glad ... funny, both of us being wrong ... it must be, clee, that it's sex-based differences. we're used to each other, but neither of us has ever felt a prime of the same sex before, and there must be more difference between ops and primes than we realized. suppose?" "could be--i hope. but that doesn't change the fact that we aren't ready. we haven't got enough data. if we start out with this grandiose galactic service thing and find only two or three planets gunthered, we make jackasses of ourselves. on the other hand, if we start out with a small organization or none, and find a lot of planets, it'll be one continuous cat-fight. on the third hand...." "three hands, clee? what are you, an octopussy or an arpalone?" "keep your beautiful trap shut a minute. on the third hand, we've _got_ to start somewhere. any ideas?" "i never thought of it that way.... hm-m-m-m ... i see." she thought for a minute, then went on, "we'll have to start without starting, then ... quite a trick.... but how about this? suppose we take a fast tour, with you and i taking quick peeks, without the peekees ever knowing we've been peeking?" "that's using the brain, belle. let's go." then, out in the main, "jim, we want to hit a few high spots, as far out as you can reach without losing orientation. beta centauri here is pretty bright, rigel and canopus are real lanterns. with those three as a grid, you could reach fifteen hundred or two thousand light-years, couldn't you?" "more than that. that many parsecs, at least." "good. belle and i want to make a fast, random-sampling check of primes and ops around here. we'll need five minutes at each planet--quite a ways out. so set up as big a globe as you can and still be dead sure of your locations; then sample it." "not enough data. how many samples do you want?" "as many as we can get in the rest of today. six or seven hours, say--eight hours max." "call it seven.... brownie on the guns, me on compy.... five minutes for you.... i should be able to lock down the next shot in five ... one minute extra, say, for safety factor ... that'd be ten an hour. seventy planets enough?" "that'll be fine." "okay. we're practically at number one now," and james and lola donned their scanners, ready for the job. * * * "miss flurnoy," garlock said, "you might tell mr. entlore that we're...." "oh, i already have, sir." "you don't have to come along, of course, if you'd rather stay here." "stay here, sir? why, he'd _kill_ me! i'm off the air for a minute," this last thought was a conspiratorial whisper. "besides, do you think i'd miss a chance to be the first person--and just a girl, too--of a whole world to see other planets of other suns? unless, of course, you invite mr. entlore and mr. holson along. they're both simply dying to go, i know, but of course won't admit it." "you'd be just as well pleased if i didn't?" "what do you think, sir?" "we'll be working at top speed and they'd be very much in the way, so they'll get theirs later--after you've licked the cream off the top of the...." "ready to roll, clee," james announced. "roll." "why, i lost contact!" miss flurnoy exclaimed. "naturally," garlock said. "did you expect to cover a distance it takes light thousands of years to cross? you can record anything you see in the plates. you can talk to jim or lola any time they'll let you. don't bother miss bellamy or me from now on." garlock and belle went to work. all four galaxians worked all day, with half an hour off for lunch. they visited seventy planets and got back to margonia in time for a very late dinner. comoff flurnoy had less than a quarter of one roll of recorder-tape left unused, and the primes had enough information to start the project they had in mind. and shortly after dinner, all five retired. "in one way, clee, i'm relieved," belle pondered, "but i can't figure out why all the primes--the grown-up ones, i mean--on all the worlds are just about the same cantankerous, you-be-damned, out-and-out stinkers as you and i are. how does _that_ fit into your theory?" "it doesn't. too fine a detail. my guess is--at least it seems to me to make sense--it's because we haven't had any competition strong enough to smack us down and make christians out of us. i don't know what a psychologist would say...." "and i know _exactly_ what you'd think of whatever he did say, so you don't need to tell me." belle laughed and presented her lips to be kissed. "good night, clee." "good night, ace." * * * and the next morning, early, garlock and belle teleported themselves--by arrangement and appointment, of course--across almost the full width of a nation and into the private office in which deggi delcamp and fao talaho awaited them. for a time which would not have been considered polite in tellurian social circles the four primes stood still, each couple facing the other with blocks set tight, studying each other with their eyes. delcamp was, as garlock had said, a big bruiser. he was shorter and heavier than the tellurian. heavily muscled, splendidly proportioned, he was a man of tremendous physical as well as mental strength. his hair, clipped close all over his head, was blonde; his eyes were a clear, keen, cold dark blue. fao talaho was a couple of inches shorter than belle; and a good fifteen pounds heavier. she was in no sense fat, however, or even plump--actually, she was almost lean. she was wider and thicker than was the earthwoman; with heavier bones forming a wider and deeper frame. she, too, was beautifully--yes, spectacularly--built. her hair, fully as thick as belle's own and worn in a free-falling bob three or four inches longer than belle's, was bleached almost white. her eyes were not really speckled, nor really mottled, but were regularly _patterned_ in lighter and darker shades of hazel. she was, garlock decided, a really remarkable hunk of woman. both nargodians wore sandals without either socks or stockings. both were dressed--insofar as they were dressed at all--in yellow. fao's single garment was of a thin, closely-knitted fabric, elastic and sleek. above the waist it was neckless, backless, and almost frontless; below, it was a very short, very tight and clinging skirt. delcamp wore a sleeveless jersey and a pair of almost legless shorts. garlock lowered his shield enough to send and to receive a thin layer of superficial thought; delcamp did the same. "so far, i like what i see," garlock said then. "we are well ahead of you, hence i can help you a lot if you want me to and if you want to be friendly about it. if you don't, on either count, we leave now. fair enough?" "fair enough. i, too, like what i have seen so far. we need help, and i appreciate your offer. thanks, immensely. i can promise full cooperation and friendship for myself and for most of our group; and i assure you that i can and will handle any non-cooperation that may come up." "nicely put, deggi." garlock smiled broadly and let his guard down to a comfortable lepping level. "i was going to bring that up--the faster it's cleared the better. belle and i are paired. some day--unless we kill each other first--we may marry. however, i'm no bargain and she's one-third wildcat, one-third vixen, and one-third cobra. how do you two stand?" "you took the thought right out of my own mind. your custom of pairing is not what you call 'urbane' on this world. nevertheless, fao and i are paired. we had to. no one else has ever interested either of us; no one else ever will. we should not fight, but we do, furiously. but no matter how vigorously we fly apart, we inevitably fly together again just as fast. no one understands it, but you two are pretty much the same." "check. just one more condition, then, and we can pull those women of ours apart." belle and fao were still staring at each other, both still sealed tight. "the first time fao talaho starts throwing her weight at me, i'm not going to wait for you to take care of her--i'm going to give her the surprise of her life." "it'd tickle me silly if it could be done," delcamp smiled and was perfectly frank, "but the man doesn't live that can do it. how would you go about trying it?" "set your block solid." delcamp did so, and through that block--the supposedly impenetrable shield of a prime operator--garlock insinuated a probe. he did not crack the screen or break it down by force; he neutralized and counter-phased, painlessly and almost imperceptibly, its every component and layer. * * * "like this," garlock said, in the depths of the margonian's mind. "my god! you can do _that_?" "if i tell her, this deep, to play ball or else, do you think she'd need two treatments?" "she certainly oughtn't to. this makes you galactic admiral, no question. i'd thought, of course, of trying you out for top gunther, but this settles that. we will support you, sir, wholeheartedly--and my heartfelt thanks for coming here." "i have your permission, then, to give fao a little discipline when she starts rocking the boat?" "i wish you would, sir. i'm not too easy to get along with, i admit, but i've tried to meet her a lot more than half-way. she's just too damned cocky for _anybody's_ good." "check. i wish somebody would come along who could knock hell out of belle." then, aloud, "belle, delcamp and i have the thing going. do you want in on it?" delcamp spoke to fao, and the two women slowly, reluctantly, lowered their shields to match those of the men. "your galaxian shaking of the hands--handshake, i mean--is very good," delcamp said, and he and garlock shook vigorously. then the crossed pairs, and lastly the two girls--although neither put much effort into the gesture. "snap out of it, belle!" garlock sent a tight-beamed thought. "she isn't going to bite you!" "she's been trying to, damn her, and i'm going to bite her right back--see if i don't." * * * garlock called the meeting to order and all four sat down. the tellurians lighted cigarettes and the others--who, to the earthlings' surprise, also smoked--assembled and lit two peculiar-looking things half-way between pipe and cigarette. and both pairs of smokers, after a few tentative tests, agreed in not liking at all the other's taste in tobacco. "you know, of course, of the trip we took yesterday?" garlock asked. "yes," delcamp admitted. "we read comoff flurnoy. we know of the seventy planets, but nothing of what you found." "okay. of the seventy planets, all have op fields and all have two or more operators; one planet has forty-four of them. only sixty-one of the planets, however, have primes old enough for us to detect. each of these worlds has two, and only two, primes--one male and one female--and on each world the two primes are of approximately the same age. on fifteen of these worlds the primes are not yet adult. on the forty-six remaining worlds, the primes are young adults, from pretty much like us four down to considerably younger. none of these couples is married-for-family. none of the girls has as yet had a child or is now pregnant. "now as to the information circulating all over this planet about us. part of it is false. part of it is misleading--to impress the military mind. thus, the fact is that the _pleiades_, as far as we know, is the only starship in the whole galaxy. also, the information is very incomplete, especially as to the all-important fact that we were lost in space for some time before we discovered that the only possible controller of the gunther drive is the human mind...." "_what!!!!_" and argument raged until garlock stopped it by declaring that he would prove it in the margonians' own ship. then garlock and belle together went on to explain and to describe--not even hinting, of course, that they had ever been outside the galaxy or had even thought of trying to do so--their concept of what the galaxian societies of the galaxy would and should do; or what the galaxian service could, should, and _would_ become--the service to which they both intended to devote their lives. it wasn't even in existence yet, of course. fao and deggi were the only other primes they had ever talked to in their lives. that was why they were so eager to help the margonians get their ship built. the more starships there were at work, the faster the service would grow into a really tremendous.... "_fao's getting ready to blow her top_," delcamp flashed garlock a tight-beamed thought. "_if i were doing it i'd have to start right now._" * * * "_i'll let her work up a full head of steam, then smack her bow-legged._" "_cheers, brother! i hope you can handle her!_" ... organization. then, when enough ships were working and enough galaxian societies were rolling, there would be the regional organizations and the galactic council.... "so, on a one-planet basis and right out of your own little fat head," fao sneered, "you have set yourself up as grand high chief mogul, and all the rest of us are to crawl up to you on our bellies and kiss your feet?" "if that's the way you want to express it, yes. however, i don't know how long i personally will be in the pilot's bucket. as i told you, i will enforce the basic tenet that top gunther is top boss--man, woman, snake, fish, or monster." "top gunther be damned!" fao blazed. "i don't and won't take orders from _any_ man--in hell or in heaven or on this earth or on any planet of any...." "fao!" delcamp exclaimed, "please keep still--_please_!" "let her rave," garlock said, coldly. "this is just a three-year-old baby's tantrum. if she keeps it up, i'll give her the damnedest jolt she ever got in all her spoiled life." belle whistled sharply to call fao's attention, then tight-beamed a thought. "if you've got any part of a brain, slick chick, you'd better start using it. the boy friend not only plays rough, but he doesn't bluff." "to hell with all that!" fao rushed on. "we don't have anything to do with your organization--go on back home or anywhere else you want to. we'll finish our own ship and build our own organization and run it to suit ourselves. we'll...." "that's enough of that." garlock penetrated her shield as easily as he had the man's, and held her in lock. "you are _not_ going to wreck this project. you will start behaving yourself right now or i'll spread your mind wide open for belle and deggi to look at and see exactly what kind of a half-baked jerk you are. if that doesn't work, i'll put you into a gunther-blocked cell aboard the _pleiades_ and keep you there until the ship is finished and we leave margonia. how do you want it?" fao was shocked as she had never been shocked before. at first she tried viciously to fight; but, finding that useless against the appalling power of the mind holding hers, she stopped struggling and began really to think. "that's better. you've got what it takes to think with. go ahead and do it." and fao talaho did have it. plenty of it. she learned. "i'll be good," she said, finally. "honestly. i'm ashamed, really, but after i got started i couldn't stop. but i can now, i'm sure." "i'm sure you can, too. i know exactly how it is. all us primes have to get hell knocked out of us before we amount to a whoop in hades. deggi got his one way, i got mine another, you got yours this way. no, neither of the others knows anything about this conversation and they won't. this is strictly between you and me." "i'm awfully glad of that. and i think i ... yes, damn you, thanks!" garlock released her and, after a few sobs, a couple of gulps, and a dabbing at her eyes with an inadequate handkerchief, she said: "i'm sorry, deggi, and you, too, belle. i'll try not to act like such a fool any more." delcamp and belle both stared at garlock; belle licked her lips. "no comment," he thought at the man; and, to belle, "she just took a beating. will you sheathe your claws and take a lot of pains to be extra nice to her the rest of the day?" "why, surely. i'm _always_ nice to anybody who is nice to me." "says you," garlock replied, skeptically, and all four went to work as though nothing had happened. * * * they went through the shops and the almost-finished ship. they studied blueprints. they met all the operators and discussed generators and fields of force and mathematics and paraphysics and guntherics. they argued so hotly about mental control that garlock had james bring the _pleiades_ over to new-christened galaxian field so that he could prove his point then and there. entlore and holson came along this time, as well as the comoff; and all three were nonplussed and surprised to see each member of the "crackpot" group hurl the huge starship from one solar system to any other one desired, apparently merely by thinking about it. and the "crackpots" were extremely surprised to find themselves hopelessly lost in uncharted galactic wildernesses every time they did not think, definitely and positively, of one specific destination. then garlock took a chance. he had to take it sometime; he might just as well do it now. "see if you can hit andromeda, deggi," he suggested. while belle, james, and lola held their breaths, delcamp tried. the starship went toward the huge nebula, but stopped at the last suitable planet on the galaxy's rim. "can _you_ hit andromeda?" delcamp asked, more than half jealously, and belle tensed her muscles. "never tried it," garlock said, easily. "i suppose, though, since you couldn't kick the old girl out of our good old home galaxy, she'll just sit right here for me, too." he went through the motions and the _pleiades_ did sit right there--which was exactly what he had told her to do. and everybody--even the "crackpots"--breathed more easily. * * * and belle was "nice" to fao; she didn't use her claws, even once, all day. and, just before quitting time-- "does he ... i mean, did he ever ... well, sort of knock you around?" fao asked. "i'll say he hasn't!" belle's nostrils flared slightly at the mere thought. "i'd stick a knife into him, the big jerk." "oh, i didn't mean physically...." "through my blocks? a _prime's_ blocks? don't be ridiculous, fao!" "what do you mean, 'ridiculous'?" fao snapped. "you tried _my_ blocks. what did they feel like to you--mosquito netting? what i thought was.... oh, all he really said was that all primes had to have hell knocked out of them before they could be any good. that he had had it one way, deggi another, and me a third. i see--you haven't had yours yet." "i certainly haven't. and if he ever tries it, i'll...." "oh, he won't. he couldn't, very well, because after you're married, it would...." "did the big lug tell you i was going to marry him?" "of course not. no fringes, even. but who else are you going to marry? if the whole universe was clear full of the finest men imaginable--pure dreamboats, no less--can you even conceive of you marrying any one of them except him?" "i'm not going to marry anybody. ever." "no? you, with your prime's mind and your prime's body, not have any children? and you tell _me_ not to be ridiculous?" that stopped belle cold, but she wouldn't admit it. instead--"i don't get it. what did he _do_ to you, anyway?" fao's block set itself so tight that it took her a full minute to soften it down enough for even the thinnest thought to get through. "that's something nobody will ever know. but anyway, unless ... unless you find another prime as strong as clee is--and i don't really think there are any, do you?" "of course there aren't. there's only one of his class, anywhere. he's it," belle said, with profound conviction. "that makes it tough for you. you'll have the toughest job imaginable. the _very_ toughest. i know." "huh? what job?" "since clee won't do it for you, and since nobody else can, you'll have to just simply knock hell out of yourself." and in garlock's room that night, getting ready for bed, belle asked suddenly, "clee, what in hell did you do to fao talaho?" "nothing much. she's a mighty good egg, really." "could you do it, whatever it was, to me?" "i don't know; i never tried it." "_would_ you, then, if i asked you to?" "no." "why not?" "answer that yourself." "and it was 'nothing much,' it says here in fine print. but i think i know just about what it was. don't i?" "i wouldn't be surprised." "you knocked hell out of yourself, didn't you?" "i lied to her about that. i'm still trying to." "so i've got to do it to myself. and i haven't started yet?" "check. but you're several years younger than i am, you know." * * * belle thought it over for a minute, then stubbed out her cigarette and shrugged her shoulders. "no sale. put it back on the shelf. i like me better the way i am. that is, i _think_ i do.... in a way, though, i'm sorry, clee darling." "darling? something new has been added. i wish you really meant that, ace." "i'm still 'ace' after what i just said? i'm glad, clee. 'ace' is ever so much nicer than 'chum.'" "ace. the top of the deck. you are, and always will be." "as for meaning it, i wish i didn't." ready for bed, belle was much more completely and much less revealingly dressed than during her working hours. she slid into bed beside him, pulled the covers up to her chin, and turned off the light by glancing at the switch. "if i thought anything could ever come of it, though, i'd do it if i had to pound myself unconscious with a club. but i wouldn't be here, then, either--i'd scoot into my own room so fast my head would spin." "you wouldn't have to. you wouldn't be here." "i wouldn't, at that. that's one of the things i like so much about you. but honestly, clee--seriously, screens-down honestly--can you see any possible future in it?" "no. neither of us would give that much. neither of us can. and there's nothing one-sided about it; i'm no more fit to be a husband than you are to be a wife. and god help our children--they'd certainly need it." "we'd never have any. i can't picture us living in marriage for nine months without committing at least mayhem. why, in just the little time we've been paired, how many times have you thrown me out of this very room, with the fervent hope that i'd drown in deep space before you ever saw me again?" "at a guess, about the same number of times as you have stormed out under your own power, slamming the door so hard it sprung half the seams of the ship and swearing you'd slice me up into sandwich meat if i ever so much as looked at you again." "that's what i mean. but how come we got off on _this_ subject, i wonder? because when we aren't fighting, like now, it's purely wonderful. so i'll say it again. good night, clee, darling." "good night, ace." in the dark his lips sought hers and found them. the fervor of her kiss was not only much more intense than any he had ever felt before. it was much, very much more intense than belle bellamy had either wanted it or intended it to be. * * * next morning, at the workman's hour of eight o'clock, the four tellurians appeared in the office of margonia's galaxian field. "the first thing to do, deggi, is to go over in detail your blueprints for the generators and the drive," garlock said. "i suppose so. the funny pictures, eh?" delcamp had learned much, the previous day; his own performance with the _pleiades_ had humbled him markedly. "by no means, my friend," garlock said, cheerfully. "while your stuff isn't exactly like ours--it couldn't be, hardly; the field is so big and so new--that alone is no reason for it not to work. james can tell you. he's the solar system's top engineer. what do you think, jim?" "what i saw in the ship yesterday will work. what few of the prints i saw yesterday will fabricate, and the fabrications will work. the main trouble with this project, it seems to me, is that nobody's building the ship." "what do you mean by _that_ crack?" fao blazed. "just that. you're a bunch of prima donnas; each doing exactly as he pleases. so some of the stuff is getting done three or four times, in three or four different ways, while a lot of it isn't getting done at all." "such as?" delcamp demanded, and-- "well, if you don't like the way we are doing things you can...." fao began. "just a minute, everybody." lola came in, with a disarming grin. "how much of that is hindsight, jim? you've built one, you know--and from all accounts, progress wasn't nearly as smooth as your story can be taken to indicate." "you've got a point there, lola," garlock agreed. "we slid back two steps for every three we took forward." "well ... maybe," james admitted. "so why don't you, fao and deggi, put jim in charge of construction?" fao threw back her silvery head and glared, but delcamp jumped at the chance. "would you, jim?" "sure--unless miss talaho objects." "she won't." delcamp's eyes locked with fao's, and fao kept still. "thanks immensely, jim. and i know what you mean." he went over to a cabinet of wide, flat drawers and brought back a sheaf of drawings. not blueprints, but original drawings in pencil. "such as this. i haven't even got it designed yet, to say nothing of building it." * * * james began to leaf through the stack of drawings. they were full of erasures, re-drawings, and such notations as "see sheets -b, -a, and -f." halfway through the pile he paused, turned backward three sheets, and studied for minutes. then, holding that one sheet by a corner, he went rapidly through the rest of the stack. "this is it," he said then, pulling the one sheet out and spreading it flat. "what we call unit eight--the heart of the drive." then, tight-beamed to garlock: "this is the thing that you designed _in toto_ and that i never could understand any part of. all i did was build it. it must generate those prime fields." "probably," garlock flashed back. "i didn't understand it any too well myself. how does it look?" "he isn't even close. he's got only half of the constants down, and half of the ones he has got down are wrong. look at this mess here...." "i'll take your word for it. i haven't your affinity for blueprints, you know, or your eidetic memory for them." "do you want me to give him the whole works?" "we'll have to, i think. or the ship might not work at all." "could be--but how about intergalactic hops?" "he couldn't do it with the _pleiades_, so he won't be able to with this. besides, if we change it in any particular he _might_. you see, i don't know very much more about unit eight than you do." "_that_ could be, too." then, as though just emerging from his concentration on the drawings, james thought at delcamp and fao, but on the open, general band. "a good many errors and a lot of blanks, but in general you're on the right track. i can finish up this drawing in a couple of hours, and we can build the unit in a couple of days. with that in place, the rest of the ship will go fast. "_if_ miss talaho wants me to," he concluded, pointedly. "oh, i do, jim--really i do!" at long last, stiff-backed fao softened and bent. she seized both his hands. "if you can, it'd be too wonderful for words!" "okay. one question. why are you building your ship so small?" "why, it's plenty big enough for two," delcamp said. "for four, in a pinch. why did you make yours so big? your main is big enough almost for a convention hall." "that's what we figured it might have to be, at times," garlock said. "but that's a very minor point. with yours so nearly ready to flit, no change in size is indicated now. but belle and i have got to have another conference with the legal eagle. so if you and brownie, jim, will 'port whatever you need out of the _pleiades_, we'll be on our way. "so long--see you in a few days," he added, and the _pleiades_ vanished; to appear instantaneously high above the stratosphere over what was to become the galaxian field of earth. * * * "got a minute, gene?" he sent a thought. "for you two primes, as many as you like. we haven't started building or fencing yet, as you suggested, but we have bought all the real estate. so land the ship anywhere out there and i'll send a jeep out after you." "thanks, but no jeep. nobody but you knows that we've really got control of the _pleiades_, and i want everybody else to keep on thinking it's strictly for the birds. we'll 'port in to your office whenever you say." "i say now." in no time at all the two primes were seated in the private office of eugene evans, head of the legal department of the newly re-incorporated galaxian society of sol, inc. evans was a tall man, slightly thin, slightly stooped, whose thick tri-focals did nothing whatever to hide the keenness of his steel-gray eyes. "the first thing, gene," garlock said, "is this employment contract thing. have you figured out a way to break it?" "it can't be broken." the lawyer shook his head. "huh? i thought you top-bracket legal eagles could break anything, if you really tried." "a good many things, yes, especially if they're long and complicated. the standard employment contract, however, is short, explicit, and iron-clad. the employer can discharge the employee for any one of a number of offenses, including insubordination; which, as a matter of fact, the employer himself is allowed to define. on the other hand, the employee cannot quit except for some such fantastic reason as the non-tendering--not non-payment, mind you, but non-_tendering_--of salary." "i didn't expect that--it kicks us in the teeth before we get started." garlock got up, lighted a cigarette, and prowled about the big room. "okay. jim and i will have to get ourselves fired, then." "fired!" belle snorted. "clee, you talk like a man with a paper nose! who else could run the project? that is," her whole manner changed; "he doesn't know i can run it as well as you can--or better--but i could tell him--and maybe you think i wouldn't!" "you won't have to. gene, you can start spreading the news that belle bellamy is a real, honest-to-god prime operator in every respect. that she knows more about project gunther than i do and could run it better. ferber undoubtedly knows that belle and i have been at loggerheads ever since we first met--spread it thick that we're fighting worse than ever. which, by the way, is the truth." "fighting? why, you seemed friendly enough...." "yeah, we can be friendly for about fifteen minutes if we try real hard, as now. the cold fact is, though, that she's just as much three-quarters hellcat and one-quarter potassium cyanide as she...." "i like _that!_" belle stormed. she leaped to her feet, her eyes shooting sparks. "all _my_ fault! why, you self-centered, egotistical, domineering jerk, i could write a book...." "that's enough--let it go--_please!_" evans pleaded. he jumped up, took each of the combatants by a shoulder, sat them down into the chairs they had vacated, and resumed his own seat. "the demonstration was eminently successful. i will spread the word, through several channels. chancellor ferber will get it all, rest assured." "and _i'll_ get the job!" belle snapped. "and maybe you think i won't take it!" "yeah?" came garlock's searing thought. "you'd do anything to get it and to keep it. yeah. i _do_ think." "oh?" belle's body stiffened, her face hardened. "i've heard stories, of course, but i couldn't quite ... but surely, he can't be _that_ stupid--to think he can buy me like so many pounds of calf-liver?" "he surely is. he does. and it works. that is, if he's ever missed, nobody ever heard of it." "but how could a man in such a big job _possibly_ get away with such foul stuff as that?" "because all the sse is interested in is money, and alonzo p. ferber is a tremendously able top executive. in the big black-and-red money books he's always 'way, 'way up in the black, and nobody cares about his conduct." * * * belle, even though she was already convinced, glanced questioningly at evans. "that's it, miss bellamy. that's it, in a precise, if somewhat crude, nutshell." "that's that, then. but just how, clee--if he's as smart as you say he is--do you think you can make him fire you?" "i don't know--haven't thought about it yet. but i could be pretty insubordinate if i really tried." "that's the understatement of the century." "i'll devote the imponderable force of the intellect to the problem and check with you later. now, gene, about the proposed galactic service, the council, and so on. what is the reaction? yours, personally, and others?" "my personal reaction is immensely favorable; i think it the greatest advance that humanity has ever made. i have been very cautious, of course, in discussing, or even mentioning the matter, but the reaction of everyone i have sounded--good men; big men in their respective fields--has been as enthusiastic as my own." "good. it won't surprise you, probably, to be told that you are to be this system's councillor and--if we can swing it and i think we can--the first president of the galactic council?" evans was so surprised that it was almost a minute before he could reply coherently. then: "i _am_ surprised--very much so. i thought, of course, that you yourself would...." "far from it!" garlock said, positively. "i'm not the type. you are. you're better than anyone else of the galaxians--which means than anyone else period. with the possible exception of lola, and she fits better on our exploration team. check, belle?" "check. for once, i agree with you without reservation. _that's_ a job we can work at all the rest of our lives, and scarcely start it." "true--indubitably true. i appreciate your confidence in me, and if the vote so falls i will do whatever i can." "we know you will, and thank _you_. how long will it take to organize? a couple of weeks? and is there anything else we have to cover now?" "a couple of _weeks!_" evans was shocked. "you are naive indeed, young man, to think anything of this magnitude can even be started in such a short time as that. and yes, there are dozens of matters--hundreds--that should be discussed before i can even start to work intelligently." hence discussions went on and on and on. it was three days before garlock and belle 'ported themselves up into the _pleiades_ and the starship displaced itself instantaneously to margonia. * * * meanwhile, on margonia, james james james the ninth went directly to the heart of his job by leading lola and fao into delcamp's office and setting up its gunther blocks. "you said you want me to build your starship. okay, but i want you both--fao especially--to realize exactly what that means. i know what to do and how to do it. i can handle your operators and get the job done. however, i can't handle either of you, since you both out-gunther me, and i'm not going to try to. but there can't be two bosses on any one job, to say nothing of three or seventeen. so either i run the job or i don't. if either of you steps in, i step out and don't come back in. and remember that you're not doing us any favors--it's strictly vice versa." "jim!" lola protested. fao's hackles were very evidently on the rise; delcamp's face was hardening. "don't be so rough, jim, _please_. that's no way to...." "if you can pretty this up, pet, i'll be glad to have you say it for me. here's what you have to work on. if i do the job they'll have their starship in a few weeks. the way they've been going, they won't have it in twenty-five years. and the only way to get that bunch out there to really work is to tell each one of them to cooperate or else--and enforce the 'or else.'" "but they'd quit!" delcamp protested. "they'll _all_ quit!" "with suspension or expulsion from the society the consequences? hardly." james said. "but you wouldn't do that--you couldn't." "i wouldn't?" "of course he wouldn't," lola put in, soothingly, "except as a very last resort. and, even at worst, jim could build it almost as easily with common labor. you primes don't really _have_ to have any operators at all, you know; but all your operators together would be perfectly helpless without at least one prime." "how come?" and "in what way?" delcamp and fao demanded together. "oh, didn't you know? after the ship is built and the fields are charged and so on, everything has to be activated--the hundred and one things that make it so nearly alive--and that is strictly a prime's job. even jim can't do it." "i see ... or, rather, i don't see at all," fao said, thoughtfully. she was no longer either excited or angry. "a few weeks against twenty-five years ... what do you think of his time estimate, deg my dear?" "i hadn't thought it would take nearly that long; but this 'activation' thing scares me. nothing in my theory even hints at any such thing. so--if there's so much i don't know yet, even in theory, it would take a long time. maybe i'd never get it." "well, anyway, i want our _celestial queen_ done in weeks, not years," fao said, extending her hand to james and shaking his vigorously. "so i promise not to interfere a bit. if i feel any such urge coming on, i'll dash home and lock myself up in a closet until it dies. fair enough?" since fao really meant it, that was fair enough. * * * for a whole day james did nothing except study blueprints; going over in detail and practically memorizing every drawing that had been made. he then went over the ship, studying minutely every part, plate, member, machine and instrument that had been installed. he noted what each man and woman was doing and what they intended to do. he went over material on hand and material on order, paying particular attention to times of delivery. he then sent a few--surprisingly few--telegrams. finally he called all fourteen operators together. he told them exactly what the revised situation was and exactly what he was going to do about it. he invited comments. there was of course a riot of protest; but--in view of what james had said anent suspensions and expulsions from the galaxian society--not one of them actually did quit. four of them, however, did appeal to delcamp, considerably to his surprise, to oust the interloper and to put things back where they had been; but they did not get much satisfaction. "james says that he can finish building this starship in a few weeks," delcamp told them, flatly. "specifically, three weeks, if we can get the special stuff made fast enough. fao and i believe him. therefore, we have put him in full charge. he will remain in charge unless and until he fails in performance. you are all good friends of fao's and mine, and we hope that all of you will stay with the project. if, however, we must choose now between you--any one of you or all of you--and james, there is no need to tell you what the choice will be." wherefore all fourteen went back to work; grudgingly at first and dragging their feet. in a very few hours, however, it became evident to all that james did in fact know what he was doing and that the work was going faster and smoother than ever before; whereupon all opposition and all malingering disappeared. they were operators, and they were all intensely interested in their ship. morale was at a high. thus, when the _pleiades_ landed beside the now seething _celestial queen_, garlock found james with feet on desk, hands in pockets, and scanner on head; doing--apparently--nothing at all. nevertheless, he was a very busy man. "hey, jim!" a soprano shriek of thought emanated from a gorgeous seventeen-year-old blonde. "i can't read this funny-picture, it's been folded too many times. where does this lead go to?" "data insufficient. careful, vingie; i'd hate to have to send you back to school." "'scuse, please, junior. unit six, sub-assembly tee dash ni-yun. terminal fo-wer. from said terminal, there's a lead--bee sub something-or-other--goes somewhere. where?" "b sub four. it goes to unit seven, sub-assembly q dash three, terminal two. and watch your insulation--that's a mighty hot lead." "uh-huh, i got that. double sink mill mill; class albert dog kittens. thanks, boss!" * * * "hi, jim," garlock said. then, to delcamp. "i see you're rolling." "_he's_ rolling, you mean." delcamp had not yet recovered fully from a state of near-shock. "so _that's_ what an eidetic memory is? he knows every nut, bolt, lead, and coil in the ship!" "more than that. he's checking every move everybody makes. when they're done, you won't have to just hope everything was put together right--you'll _know_ it was." jim was their man. * * * and fao sidled over toward belle. there was something new about the silver-haired girl, belle decided instantly. the difference was slight--belle couldn't put her finger on it at first. she seemed--quieter? softer? more subdued? no, definitely. more feminine? no; that would be impossible. more ... more adult? belle hated to admit it, even to herself, but that was what it was. "deg and i got married day before yesterday," fao confided, via tight beam. "oh--so you're _pregnant!_" "of course. i saw to that the first thing. i knew you'd want to be the first one to know. oh, isn't it _wonderful_?" she seized belle's arm and hugged it ecstatically against her side. "just too perfectly marvelous for _anything_?" "oh, i'm sure it is; and i'm so happy for you, fao!" and it would have taken the mind of a garlock to perceive anything either false or forced in thought or bearing. nevertheless, when belle went into garlock's room that night, storm signals were flying high in her almost-topaz eyes. "fao talaho-delcamp is _pregnant_!" she stormed, "and it's all _your_ fault!" "uh-huh," he demurred, trying to snap her out of her obviously savage mood. "not me, ace. not a chance in the world. it was deggi." "you ... you _weasel_! you know very well, clee garlock, what i meant. if you hadn't given her that treatment she'd have kept on fighting with him and they wouldn't have been married and had any children for positively _years_. so now she'll have the first double-prime baby and it ought to be _mine_. i'm older than she is--our group is 'way ahead of theirs--we have the first and _only_ starship--and then you do _that_. and you wouldn't give _me_ that treatment. oh, no--just to _her_, that bleached-blonde! i'd like to strangle you to death with my own bare hands!" "what a hell of a logic!" garlock had been trying to keep his own temper in leash, but the leash was slipping. "assume i tried to work on you--assume i succeeded--what would you be? what would i have? what age do you think this is--that of the vikings? when sop in getting a wife was to beat her unconscious with a club and drag her into the longboat by her hair? hardly! i do not want and will not have a conquered woman. nor a spoiled-rotten, mentally-retarded brat...." "you unbearable, conceited, overbearing jerk! why, i'd rather...." "get out! and _this_ time, _stay_ out!" belle got out--and if door and frame had not been built of super-steel, both would have been wrecked by the blast of energy she loosed in closing the door behind her. in her own room, with gunther blocks full on, she threw herself face down on the bed and cried as she had not cried since she was a child. and finally, without even taking off her clothes, she cried herself to sleep. chapter next morning, early, belle tapped lightly on garlock's door. "come in." she did so. "have you had your coffee?" "yes." "so have i." neither belle nor garlock had recovered; both faces showed strain and drain. "i think we'd better break this up," belle said, quietly. "check. we'll have to, if we expect to get any work done." belle could not conceal her surprise. "oh, not for the reason you think," garlock went on, quickly. "your record as a man-killer is still one hundred point zero zero zero percent. i've been in love with you ever since we paired. before that, even." "flapdoodle!" she snorted, inelegantly. "why, i...." "keep still a minute. and i'm not going to fight with you again. ever. i'm not going to touch you again until i can control myself a lot better than i could last night." "oh? that was mostly my fault, of course. but in love? uh-uh, i've seen men in love. you aren't. i couldn't make you be, not with the best i could do. not even in bed. you aren't, clee--if you are, i'm an australian bushman." "perhaps i'm an atypical case. i'm not raving about your perfect body--you know what that is like already. nor about your mind, which is the only one i know of as good as my own. maybe i'm in love with what i think you ought to be ... or what i hope you will be. anyway, i'm in love with _something_ connected with you--and with no other woman alive. shall we go eat?" "uh-huh--let's." they joined lola and james at the table; and if lola noticed anything out of the ordinary, she made no sign. and after breakfast, in the main-- "about three weeks, jim, you think?" garlock asked. "give or take a couple of days, yes." "and belle and i would just be in the way--at least until time to show deggi about the activation ... and all those primes to organize ... we'd better leave you here, don't you think, and get going?" "i'll buy that. we'll finish as soon as possible." lola and james moved a few personal belongings planetside; garlock and belle shot the _pleiades_ across a vast gulf of space to one of the planets they had scanned so fleetingly on their preliminary survey. its name was, both remembered, lizoria; its two primes were named rezdo semolo and mirea mitala--male and female, respectively. after sending down a very brief and perfunctory request for audience--which was in effect a declaration of intent and nothing else--garlock and belle teleported themselves down into semolo's office, where both lizorian primes were. both got up out of peculiar-looking chairs to face their visitors. both were tall; both were peculiarly thin. not the thinness of emaciation, but that of bodily structure. "on them it looks good," belle tight-beamed a thought to garlock. both moved fast and with exquisite control; both were extraordinarily graceful. "snaky" was belle's thought of the woman; "sinuous" was garlock's of the man. both were completely hairless, of body and of head--not by nature, but via electric-shaver clipping. both wore sandals. the man wore shorts and a shirt-like garment of nylon or its like; the woman wore just enough ribbons and bands to hold a hundred thousand credits' worth of jewels in place. she appeared to be about twenty years--tellurian equivalent--old; he was probably twenty-three or twenty-four. "we did not invite you in and we do not want you here," semolo said, coldly. "so get out, both of you. if you don't, when i count three i'll throw you out, and i won't be too careful about how many of your bones i break. one.... two...." "pipe down, rezdo!" the girl exclaimed. "they have something we haven't, or they wouldn't be here. whatever it is, we want it." "oh, let him try, miss mitala," garlock said, through her hard-held block, in the depth of her mind. "he won't hurt us a bit and it may do him some good. while he's wasting effort i'll compare notes with my partner here, galactic vice-admiral belle bellamy. i'm glad to see that one of you has at least a part of a brain." "... three!" semolo did his best, with everything he had, without even attracting garlock's attention. he then tried to leap at the intruder physically, despite the latter's tremendous advantage in weight and muscle, but found that he could not move. then, through belle's solidly-set blocks, "how are you doing, ace? getting anywhere?" "my god!" came belle's mental shriek. "what--how can--but no, you _didn't_ give _that_ to fao, surely!" "i'll say i didn't--nor to delcamp. but you're going to need it, i'm thinking." "but _can_ you? even if you _would_--and i'm just beginning to realize how big a man you really are--can that kind of stuff be taught? i probably haven't got the brain-cells it takes to handle it." "i'm not sure, but i've reworked our prime fields into one and made a couple of other changes. theoretically, it ought to work. shall i come in and try it?" "don't be an idiot, darling. _of course!_" * * * as impersonally as a surgeon exploring an organ, garlock went into belle's mind. "tune to the field ... that's it--fine! then--i'll do it real slow, and watch me close--you do like so ... get it?" "uh-huh!" belle breathed, excitedly. "got it!" "then this ... and this ... and there you are. you can try it on me, if you like." "uh-uh. no sale. i don't need practice and i'd like to preserve the beautiful illusion that maybe i _could_ crack your shield if i wanted to. i'll work on miss snake-hips here, the serpentine charmer--but say, i'll bet there's a bone in it. _you_ can block it, can't you?" "yes. it goes like this." he showed her. "it takes full mastery of the prime field, but you've got that." "oh, wonderful! thanks, clee darling. but do you mean to actually say i can now completely block you or any other prime out?" "you're going too far, ace. me, yes--but don't forget that there very well may be people--or things--as far ahead of us as we are ahead of pointer pups." "huh! balloon-juice and prop-wash! i just _know_, clee, that you're the absolute tops of the whole, entire, macrocosmic universe." "well, we can dream, of course." garlock withdrew his mind from belle's and turned his attention to the now quiet semolo. "well, my over-confident and contumacious young squirt; are you done horsing around or do you want to keep it up until you addle completely what few brains you have?" the lizorian made no reply; but merely glared. "the trouble with you half-baked, juvenile--i almost added 'delinquent' to that, and perhaps i should have--primes is that you know too damned much that isn't true. as an old tellurian saying hath it, 'you're altogether too big for your britches.' "thus, simply because you have lived a few years on one single planet and haven't encountered anyone able to stand up to you, you've sold yourself on the idea that there's nobody, anywhere, who can. you're wrong--you couldn't be more so if you had an army to help you. "what, actually, have you done? what, actually, have you got? practically nothing. you haven't even started a starship; you've scarcely started making plans. you realize dimly that the theory is not in any of the books, that you'll have to slug it out for yourself, but that is _work_. so you're still just posing and throwing your weight around. "as a matter of fact, you're merely a drop in a lake. there are thousands of millions of planets, and thousands of millions of prime operators. most of them are probably a lot stronger than you are; many of them may be stronger than my partner and i are. i am not at all certain that you will pass even the first screening; but since you are without question a prime operator, i will deliver the message we came to deliver. miss mitala, do you want to listen or shall we drive it into you, too?" "i want to listen to anyone or anything who has a working starship and who can do what you have just done." "very well," and garlock told the general-distribution version of the story of the galactic service. "quite interesting," semolo said loftily, at its end. "whether or not i would be interested depends, of course, on whether there's a position high enough for...." "i doubt very much if there's one low enough," garlock cut in sharply. "however, since it's part of my job, i'll get in touch with you later. okay, belle." and in the main--"what a jerk!" belle exclaimed. "what a half-cooked, half-digested _pill_! i simply marvel at your forbearance, clee. you should have turned him inside out and hung him up to dry--especially behind the ears!" then, suddenly, she giggled. "but do you know what i did?" "i can guess. a couple of shots in the arm?" "uh-huh. next time he pitches into her she'll slap his ears right off. oh, _brother_!" "check and double-check. but let's hop to number two.... here it is." * * * "oh, yes," came a smooth, clear, diamond-sharp thought in reply to garlock's introductory call. "this world, as you have perceived, is falne. i am indeed baver wd , my companion prime is indeed glarre wd . you are, we perceive, bearers of the truth; of great skill and of high advancement. your visit here will, i am sure, be of immense benefit to us and possibly, i hope, of some small benefit to you. we will both be delighted to have you both 'port yourselves to us at once." the tellurians did so--and in the very instant of appearance garlock was met by a blast of force the like of which he had never even imagined. the two falnian primes, capable operators both, had built up their highest possible potentials and had launched both terrific bolts without any hint of warning. belle's mind, however, was already fused with garlock's. their combined blocks were instantaneous in action; their counter-thrust was nearly so. both falnians staggered backward until they were stopped by the room's wall. "ah, yes," garlock said, then. "you are indeed, in a small and feeble way, seekers after the truth; of which we are indeed bearers. lesser bearers, perhaps, but still bearers. you will indeed profit greatly from our visit. you err, however, in thinking that we may in any respect profit from you. you have nothing whatever that we have not had for long. now let us, if you please, take a few seconds of time to get acquainted, each with the other." "that, indeed, is the logical and seemly thing to do." both falnians straightened up and stepped forward; neither arrogantly nor apologetically, but simply as though nothing at all out of the ordinary had taken place. each pair studied the other. physically, the two pairs were surprisingly alike. baver was almost as big as garlock; almost as heavily muscled. glarre could have been cast in belle's own mold. * * * with that, however, all resemblance ceased. both falnians were naked. the man wore only a belt and pouch in lieu of pockets; the woman only a leather carryall slung from one shoulder--big enough, garlock thought, to hold a week's supplies for an explorer scout. his hair was thick, bushy, unkempt; sun-bleached to a nondescript blend of pale colors. hers--long, heavy, meticulously middle-parted and dressed--was a startling two-tone job. to the right of the part it was a searingly brilliant red; to the left, an equally brilliant royal blue. his skin was deeply tanned. the color of hers was completely masked by a bizarrely spectacular overlay of designs done in semi-indelible, multi-colored dyes. "ah, you are worthy indeed of receiving an increment of truth. hear, then, the message we bring," and again garlock told the story. "we thank you, sir and madam, from our hearts. we will accept with joy your help in finishing our ship; we will do all that in us lies to further the cause of the galactic service. until a day, then?" "until a day." then, to belle, "okay, ace. ready? go!" and up in the main--"sweet sin!" belle exclaimed. "what a pair _they_ turned out to be! clee, that simply scared me witless." "you can play that in spades." garlock jammed his hands into his pockets and prowled about the room, his face a black scowl of concentration. until, finally, he pulled himself out of the brown study and said: "i've been trying to think if there's any other thing, however slight, that i have and you haven't. there isn't. you've got it all. you're just as fast as i am, just as sharp and as accurate--and, since we now draw on the same field, just as strong." "why clee! you're worrying about _me_? you've done altogether too much for me, already." "anything i can do, i've got to do ... well, shall we go?" "we shall." * * * they visited four more planets that day. and after supper that night, standing in the corridor between their doors, belle began to soften her shield, as though to send a thought. almost instantly, however, she changed her mind and snapped it back to full on. "good night, clee," she said. "good night, belle," and each went into his own room. the next day they worked nine planets, and the day after that they worked ten. they ate supper in friendly fashion; then strolled together across the main, to a davenport. "it's funny," belle said thoughtfully, "having this tremendous ship all to ourselves. to have a private conference right out here in the main ... or is it?" he triggered the shields, she watched him do it. "it is now," he assured her. "prime-proof? not ordinary gunther blocks?" "uh-huh. two hundred kilovolts and four hundred kilogunts. backed by all the force of the prime and op fields and the full power of the engines. i told you i'd made some changes in the set-up." "private enough, i guess ... what a mess those primes are! and we'll have to make the rounds twice more--when we alert 'em and when we pick 'em up." "not necessarily. this new set-up ought to give us a galaxy-wide reach. let's try semolo, on lizoria, shall we?" "uh-huh--let's." "tune in, then ace." "_ace_, darling?" "ace, _darling_?" "darling. you said you weren't going to fight with me any more. okay--i'm not going to try any more to lick you until after i've licked myself. i'm tuned--you may fire when ready, gridley." they fired--and hit the mark dead center. top-lofty and arrogant and belligerent as ever, the lizorian prime took the call. "i thought all the time you wanted something. well, i neither want nor need...." "cut it, you unlicked cub, until you can begin to use that half-liter of golop you call a brain," garlock said, harshly. "we're just trying out a new ultra-communicator. thanks for your help." on the fourth day they worked eleven planets; the fifth day saw the forty-sixth planet done and the immediate job finished. all during supper, it was very evident that belle had something on her mind. after eating, she went out into the main and slumped down on a davenport. garlock followed her. a cigarette leaped out of a closed box and into place between her lips. it came alight. she smoked it slowly, without relish; almost as though she did not know that she was smoking. "might as well get it out of your system, belle," garlock said aloud. "what are you thinking about at the moment?" belle exhaled; the half-smoked butt vanished. "at the moment i was thinking about gunther blocks. specifically, their total inability to cope with that new prime probe of yours." she stared at him, narrow-eyed. "it goes through them just like nothing at all." she paused; eyed him questioningly. "no comment." "and yet you gave it to me. freely, of your own accord. even before i needed it. why?" "still no comment." "you'd better comment, buster, before i blow my top." "there is such a thing as urbanity." "i've heard of it, yes; even though you never did believe i ever had any. you _talk_ a good game of urbanity, but your brand of it would never carry you _that_ far...." she paused. he remained silent. she went on. "of course, it does put a lot of pressure on me to develop myself." "i'm glad you used the word 'develop' instead of 'treat.'" "oh, sometimes--at rare intervals--i'm not exactly dumb. but you knew--you _must_ have known--what a horrible risk you took in making me as tremendously powerful as you are." * * * "some, perhaps, but very definitely less risky than not doing it." "getting information out of you is harder than pulling teeth. clee garlock, i want you to tell me _why!_" "very well." garlock's jaw set. "you've had it in mind all along that this is some kind of a lark; that you and i are gunther tops of the universe. or did that belief weaken a bit when we met baver wd ?" "well, perhaps--a little. however, the probability is becoming greater with every planet we visit. after all, _some_ race has to be tops. why _shouldn't_ it be us?" "_what_ a logic--excuse me, skip it...." "oh, you really _meant_ it when you said you weren't going to fight with me any more?" "i'm going to try not to. now, remembering that i don't consider your premise valid, just suppose that when we visit some planet some day, you get your mind burned out and i don't--solely because i had something i could have given you and wouldn't. what then?" "oh. i thought that was what you ... but suppose i can't...." "we won't suppose anything of the kind. but that wasn't all that was on your mind. nor most." "how true. those primes. the women. honestly, clee, i never saw--never imagined--such a bunch of exhibitionistic, obstreperous, obnoxious, swell-headed, hussies in my whole life. and every day it was borne in on me more and more that i was--am--exactly like the rest of them." garlock was wise enough to say nothing, and belle went on: "i've been talking a good game of licking myself, but this time i'm going to _do_ it." she jumped up and doubled her fists. "if you can do it, i can," she declared. "like the ancient ballad--'anything you can do i can do better.'" she tried to be jaunty, but the jauntiness did not ring quite true. "that's an unfortunate quotation, i'm afraid. the trouble is, i haven't." "huh? don't be an idiot, clee. you certainly have--what else do _you_ suppose put me so far down into the dumps?" "in that case, you _certainly_ will. so come on up out of the dumps." "wilco--and i certainly will. but for a woman who has been talking so big, i feel low in my mind. a good-night kiss, clee, darling? just one--and just a little one, at that?" "sweetheart!" there were more than one, and none of them was little. eventually, however, the two stood, arms still around each other, in the corridor between their doors. "but kissing's as far as it goes, isn't it," belle said. the remark was not a question; nor was it quite a statement. "that's right." "so good night, darling." "good night, ace." * * * and when they next saw each other, at the breakfast table, belle was apparently her usual dauntless self. "hi, darling--sit down," she said, gaily. "your breakfast is on the table. bacon, eggs, toast, strawberry jam, and a liter of coffee." "nice! thanks, ace." they ate in silence for a few minutes; then her hand crept tentatively across the table. he pressed it warmly. "you look a million, belle. out of the dumps?" "pretty much--in most ways. one way, though, i'm in deeper than ever. you see, i know exactly what you did to fao talaho; and why neither you or anybody else could do it to me. or if they could, what would happen if they did." "i was hoping you would. i couldn't very well tell you, before, but...." "of course not. i see that." "... the fact is that fao, and all the others we've met, are young enough, unformed enough--plastic enough--yes, damn it, _weak_ enough--to bend. but you are tremendously strong, and twelve rockwell numbers harder than a diamond. you wouldn't bend. if enough stress could be applied--and that's decidedly questionable--you wouldn't bend. you'd break, and i can't figure it. you're a little older, of course, but not enough to...." "how about the fact that i've been banging myself for eight years against cleander garlock, the top prime of the universe and the hardest? that might have something to do with it, don't you think?" garlock said, "indefensible conclusions drawn from insufficient data. that's just what i've been talking about. no matter how we got the way we are, though, the fact is that you and i have got to fight our own battles and bury our own dead." "check. like having a baby, but worse. there's nothing anybody else can do--even you--except maybe hold my hand, like now." "that's about it. but speaking of holding hands, would it help if we paired again?" belle studied the question for two full minutes; her fine eyes clouded. "no," she said, finally. "i would enjoy it too much, and you'd ... well, you wouldn't...." "huh?" he demanded. "oh, physically, of course; but that isn't enough, or good enough, now. you see, i know what your personal code is. it's unbelievable, almost--i never heard of one like it, except maybe a priest or two--but i admire you tremendously for it. you would never, willingly, pair with a woman you really loved. that was why you were so glad to break ours off. you can't deny it." "i won't try to deny it. but you can't bluff me, belle, so please quit trying. basically, your code is the same as mine. why else did you initiate our break?" belle's block went solid, and garlock said hastily, aloud, "excuse it, please. cancel. i've just said, and know as an empirical fact, that you've got to do the job alone--but i can't seem to help putting my big, flat foot in it by blundering in anyway. let's get to work, shall we?" "what at? interview the primes, i'd say--tell them to hold themselves in readiness to attend...." "on very short notice...." "yes. to attend the big meeting on tellus. we'll have to make a schedule. it shouldn't be held until after fao and deggi get their ship built--it _can't_ be held, of course, until after you and jim are out of sse. have you got _that_ figured out yet?" "pretty much." he told her his plan. belle giggled, then burst into laughter. "so _i'm_ in it, too? _wonderful!_" "you have to be. if we make him mad enough, he'll fire you, too." "without hiring me first? he couldn't." "he could, very easily. he doesn't know one-tenth of one percent of his people. if we work it right he'll assume that you're one of us wage-slaves, too. lola, too, for that matter." "careful, clee. you and i think this is funny, but lola wouldn't. she'd be shocked to her sweet little core, and she'd louse up the whole deal. so be very sure she doesn't get in on it." "i guess you're right ... well, shall we go out and insult our touchy young friend semolo? ready.... go!" * * * "oh, it's _you_ again. i tell you...." the lizorian began. "you will tell me nothing. you will listen. link your mind to mitala's," and the linked tellurian minds enforced the order. "in about two weeks the primes of many worlds will meet in person on tellus. arrange your affairs so that on ten minutes' notice you both can leave lizoria for tellus aboard our starship, the _pleiades_. that is all." "he'll come, too," belle chortled. "he'll writhe and scream, but he'll come." "you couldn't keep him away," garlock agreed. on the next planet, falne, the procedure was a little different. the information was the same, but--"one word of warning," garlock added. "it is to be a meeting of minds; not a contest to set up a pecking-order. if you try any such business you will be disciplined; sharply and in public." "suppose that, under such conditions, we refuse to attend the meeting?" "that is your right. there is no coercion whatever. whether or not you come will depend upon whether or not you two are in reality seekers after truth. until a day." and so it went. planet after planet. on not one of those worlds had any prime changed his thinking. not one was really interested in the galactic service as an instrument for the good of all mankind. there were almost as many attitudes as there were primes; but all were essentially self-centered and selfish. "that tears it, belle--busts it wide open. i can--i mean we together can do either job. that is, either be top boss and run the thing or put in full time beating some sense into those hard skulls. we can't do both." "on paper, we should," belle said, thoughtfully. "you're galactic admiral; i'm your vice. one job apiece. but we're _not_ going to be separated. besides...." "two (minds) (brains) are much better than one," both said, except for one word, in unison. belle laughed. "that settles that. the garlock-bellamy fusion is galactic admiral--so we need a good vice. who? deggi and fao? they're cooperative and idealistic enough, but.... oh, i don't know exactly what it is they lack. do you?" "no; i can't put it into words or thoughts. probably the concept is too new for pigeon-holing. it isn't exactly strength or hardness or toughness or resilience or brisance--maybe a combination of all five. what we need is a pair like us but better." "there _aren't_ any." "don't be too sure." belle glanced at him in surprise and he went on: "not that we've seen, no. but each of those worlds centers a volume of space containing thousands of planets. including the tellurian and the margonian, we now have forty-eight regions defined. let's run a very fast search-pattern of region forty-nine and see what we come up with." "all right ... but suppose we do find somebody who out-gunthers us?" "i'd a lot rather have it that way than the way it is now. i'll do the hopping, you the checking. here's the first one--what do you read?" "n. g." "and this one?" "the same." "and this?" "ditto." until, finally: "clee, just how long are you going to keep this up?" "until we find something or run out of time for the meeting. belle, i really _want_ to find somebody who amounts to something." "so do i, really, so go ahead." * * * but they did not run out of time. at planet number four-hundred-something, belle suddenly emitted a shriek--vocally as well as mentally. "clee! hold it! here's something, i think!" "i'm sure there is, and i'm gladder to see you two people than can possibly be expressed." belle whirled; so did garlock. a man stood in the middle of the main; a man shaped very much like garlock, but with long, badly-tousled hair and a bushy wilderness of fiery-red whiskers. "please excuse this intrusion, admiral--or should it be plural? improper address, i'm sure, but your joint tenure is a concept so new and so vast that i am not yet able to grasp it fully--but you are working at such high speed that i had to do something drastic. you will, i trust, remain here long enough to discuss certain matters with my wife and me?" "we'll be very glad to." "thank you. i will return, then, more decorously, and bring her. one moment." he disappeared. "_wife!_" belle exclaimed, more than half in dismay. "they must be, then...." "yeah." the thought of a wife did not bother garlock at all. "talk about _power!_ and _speed!_ to get all that stuff and 'port up here in the millisecond or so we had the screens open? baby doll, there's a guy who is what a prime operator _ought_ to be!" in less than a minute the man reappeared, accompanied by a woman who was very obviously pregnant--eight months or so. like the man, she was dressed in tight-fitting coveralls. her hair, however--it was a natural red, too--was cut to a uniform length of eight inches, and each hair individually stood out, perfectly straight and perfectly perpendicular to the element of the scalp from which it sprang. "friends belle and clee of tellus, i present therea, my wife; and alsyne, myself; of this planet thaker. we have numbers, too, but they are never used among friends." acknowledgments were made and a few minutes of conversation ensued, during which the two couples studied each other. "this looks mighty good to me," garlock said then. "shall we go screens half-down, alsyne, and cry in each other's beer?" * * * in thirty seconds of flashing communication each became thoroughly informed. those minds could send, and could receive, an incredibly vast amount of information in an incredibly brief space of time. "your ship should work and doesn't," garlock said. "show me; in detail." alsyne showed him. "oh, i see. you didn't work out quite all the theory. it has to be activated. like this...." garlock showed alsyne. "i see. thanks." alsyne disappeared and was gone for some ten minutes. he reappeared, grinning hugely behind his flaming wilderness of beard. "it works perfectly; for which our heartfelt thanks. and now that my mind is at complete peace with the universe, we will consider the utterly fascinating subject of your proposed galactic service. you two tellurians, immature although you are, have made two tremendous contributions to the advancement of the scheme of things--three, if you count the starship, which is comparatively unimportant--each of such import that no human mind can foresee any fraction of its consequences. first, your prime field, the probe and its screen...." "clee!" belle drove the thought. "you _didn't_ give him _that_, surely!" "tut-tut, my child," therea soothed her. "you are alarming yourself about nothing." "the only trouble with you two youngsters is that you aren't quite--very nearly, of course, but very definitely not quite--grown up." alsyne smiled again; not only with mouth and eyes, but with his whole hairy face. "to the mature mind there is no such thing as status. each knows what he can do best and does it as a matter of course. rank is not necessary. "second, the unimaginably important contribution of the ability to combine two dissimilar but intimately compatible minds into one tremendously effective fusion. while therea and i have had only a few moments to play with it, we realize some of its possibilities. thus, since she is a doctor of humanities...." "oh," belle interrupted. "_that's_ why you knew what i was thinking about, even though i tight-beamed the thought and my screens were tight?" "exactly so. but to continue. with her sympathy and empathy, and my driving force and so on, the job of licking these young primes into shape is, as your idiom has it, 'strictly our dish.' it is a truly delicious thought. "you two, on the other hand, have much that we lack. breadth and depth and scope of imagination and of vision; yet almost incredible will-power and stamina and resolve...." "_that's the word i was trying to think of--will-power_," belle flashed a thought at garlock. "... qualities virtually always mutually exclusive; but the combination of which makes your fusion uniquely qualified to lead and direct this new and magnificent movement. but therea and i have been idle and frustrated far too long. we can be of most use, at the moment, on margonia; working with the fao-deggi unit. therefore, with renewed deep thanks, we go." * * * man and wife disappeared; and, ten seconds later, the thakern starship vanished from its world. "well, _what_ do you think of _that_?" belle gasped. "i was actually afraid to think, even behind a prime screen. i don't know _yet_ whether i want to kiss 'em or kill 'em." "i do. that guy is really a prime, belle. he's older, bigger, and a lot better than i am." "uh-uh," she demurred, positively. "older, yes. more mature--you _baby_, you!" she snickered gleefully. "if he hadn't included you in that crack i'd've stabbed him, so help me, even though it wasn't true. he said himself it's _you_ who has got what it takes to lead and direct, not him." "us. we, i mean," he corrected, absently. "uh-huh; us-we. one, now and forever. hot dog! anyway, he wants us to and we want to so everything's lovely and so let's get to work on fatso and his foster. i think we ought to have some fun for a change and that'll be a lot. when do we want to hit him?" "any day monday through friday. nine-fifteen a.m. eastern daylight time. plus or minus one minute." "nice! catch him _in flagrante delicto_. lovely--shovel on the coal, my intrepid engineer!" on a wednesday morning, then, at twelve minutes past nine edt, the _pleiades_ hung poised, high over the chancellery of solar system enterprises, incorporated. "remember, belle!" garlock was pacing the main. "to keep 'em staggering we'll have to land slugging and beat 'em to every punch. you did a wonderful job on her last time, and it's been eating on her ever since. she's probably been rehearsing in front of a mirror just how she's going to tear you apart next time and just how she's going to spit out the pieces. last time, you were cold, stiff, rigidly formal, and polite. so this time it'll be me, and i'll be hot and bothered, dirty, low, coarse, lewd, and very, very rough." belle threw back her head and laughed. "rough? yes. vicious, contemptuous, or ugly; yes. a master of fluent, biting, and pyrotechnic profanity; yes. but low or dirty or coarse or lewd, clee? or any one of the four, to say nothing of them all? uh-uh. ferber's a filthy beast, of course; but even he knows you're one of the cleanest men that ever lived. they'd _know_ it was an act." "not unless i give 'em time to think--or unless you do, before he fires jim--in which case we'll lose the game anyway. but how about you? if i can knock 'em too groggy to think, will you carry on and keep 'em that way?" "watch my blasts!" belle giggled gleefully. "i never tried anything like that--any more than you have--but i'll guarantee to be just as low, dirty, coarse, lewd, and crude as you are. probably more so, because in this particular case it'll be fun. you see, you're a man--you can't possibly despise and detest that slimy stinker either in the same way or as much as i do." "this ought to be good. cut the rope, jim." even before the starship came to rest, garlock drove a probe into the _sanctum sanctorum_ of the chancellery--an utterly unheard-of act of insolence. "foster! this is the _pleiades_ coming in. garlock calling. hot up the tri-di and the recorder, toots. put fatso on, and snap into it.... i said shake a leg!" "why, i.... you...." "stop stuttering and come to life, you half-witted bag! gimme ferber and hurry it up--this ship's tricky." "why, you ... i never...." ferber's outraged first secretary could scarcely talk. "he ... he is...." "i know, babe, i know--i could set that to music and sing it, with gestures. 'chancellor ferber is in conference and cannot be disturbed,'" he mimicked, savagely. "put him on now--but _quick_!" * * * the tri-di tank brightened up; chancellor ferber's image appeared. he was disheveled, surprised and angry, but garlock gave him no chance to speak. "well, fatso--at last! where the _hell_ have you been all morning? i want some stuff, just as fast as god will let you get it together," and he began to read off, as fast as he could talk, a long list of highly technical items. ferber tried for many seconds to break in, and garlock finally allowed him to do so. "are you crazy, garlock?" he shouted. "what in hell's name are you bothering _me_ with _that_ stuff for? you know better than that--make out your requisitions and send them through channels!" "channels, hell!" garlock shouted back. "hasn't it got through your four-inch-thick skull into your idiot's brain yet that i'm in a hurry? i don't want this stuff today; i want it day before yesterday--this damned junk-heap is apt to fall apart any minute. so quit goggling and slobbering at me, you wall-eyed, slimy, fat toad. get that three hundred weight of suet into action. _hump_ yourself!" "you ... you ... why, i was never so insulted...." "insulted? you?" garlock out-roared him. "listen, fatso. if i ever set out to really insult you, you'll know it--it'll blister all the paint off the walls. all i'm trying to do now is get you off that fat butt of yours and get some action." ferber became purple and pounded his desk in consuming anger. garlock yelled louder and pounded harder. "start rounding up this stuff--but _fast_--or i'll come down there and take your job away from you and do it myself--and for your own greasy hide's sake you'd better believe i'm not just chomping my choppers, either." "you'll _what?_" ferber screamed. "_you're fired!_" "_you_ fire _me_?" garlock mimicked the scream. "and make it stick? you'd better write that one up for the funnies. why, you lard-brain, you couldn't fire a cap-pistol." "foster!" ferber yelled. "terminate garlock as of now. insubordination, and misconduct, abuse of position, incompetence, malfeasance--everything else you can think of. blacklist him all over the system!" at the word "fired" belle, had leaped to her feet and had stopped laughing. "miss bellamy!" ferber snapped. "yes, sir?" she answered, sweetly. "you are hereby promoted to be head of the...." "oh, yeah?" belle sneered, her voice cutting like a knife. "you unprincipled, lascivious, lecherous _hitler!_ have you got the unmitigated gall to take _me_ for a floozie? to think you can add _me_ to your collection of bootlicking, round-heeled tramps?" "you're fired and blacklisted too!" "how nice! you know, i don't know of _anything_ i'd rather have happen to me?" * * * "get james on there--you, james...." "you don't need to fire me, you fat-headed old goat," james said, contemptuously. "i've already quit--the exact second you fired clee." "no you didn't!" ferber screamed. "resignation not accepted. you're _fired_! dishonorably discharged--blacklisted everywhere--you'll _never_ get another job--_anywhere_! and here's your slip, too!" miss foster was very fast on the machines. james 'ported his slip up into the _pleiades_, just as garlock and belle had done with theirs, and disappeared with it as they had; reappearing almost instantly. "montandon!" "chancellor ferber, are you completely out of your mind? you can't discharge either miss bellamy or me." "i can't?" he gloated. "why not?" "because neither of us is employed. by anybody." "that's right, fatso," belle said. "we just came along. just to keep the boys company. it's lonesome, you know, 'way out in deep space." miss foster ripped a half-filled-out termination form out of her machine and hurled it into a waste-basket. ferber's jaw dropped and his eyes stared glassily, but he rallied quickly. "i can blacklist her, though, and maybe you think i won't. belle bellamy will never get another job in this whole solar system as long as she lives, except through me! maybe i'll hire her some day, for something, and maybe i won't. are you listening, bellamy?" "not only listening, i'm reveling in every word." belle laughed derisively. "i hate to shatter such wonderful dreams--or do i? you see, the _pleiades_ really works, and the galaxians own her; lock, stock, and barrel. you wouldn't have any part of her, remember? insisted on payment for every nut, wire, and service? now, they want to hire us four for a big operation with this starship. since you only loaned garlock and james to them, you might have made some legal trouble on that score, but now that you've fired them both--and in such _conclusive_ language!--we're all set. so when you blacklist us with the society, _please_ let me know--i want to take a tri-di in technicolor of you doing it. how do you like _them_ parsnips, your royal fatness?" "i'll see about that!" ferber stormed. "we'll have an injunction out in an hour!" "go ahead," garlock said, with a wide grin. "have fun--the galaxians have legal eagles too, you know. one thing belle forgot. just in case you recover consciousness some time and want to steal our termination papers back--especially belle's; what a howler _that_ was!--don't try it. they're in a gunther-blocked safe." then, as comprehension began to dawn on ferber's face: "s-u-c-k-e-r," garlock drawled. the _pleiades_ disappeared. chapter the _pleiades_ landed on margonia's galaxian field, where the tellurians found the project running smoothly, a little ahead of schedule. delcamp and fao were working at their fast and efficient pace, but the hairy pair from thaker seemed to be, literally, everywhere at once. "hi, belle." fao 'ported up and shook hands warmly. "i thought i was going to have the first double-prime baby, until _she_ appeared on the scene." "didn't it make you mad? i'd've been furious." "maybe a little at first, but not after i'd talked with her for half a minute. she'd never even thought of that angle. besides, she thinks the whole galaxy is fairly crawling with double-primes." "that's funny--so does clee. but there are other things--strictly not angles--that she hasn't thought of, too. if those coveralls were half an inch tighter they'd choke her to death. you'd think she'd...." "huh?" fao interrupted. "_you_ should scream--oh, that ridiculous tellurian prud...." "it _isn't_ ridiculous!" belle snapped. "and it isn't prudishness, either--not with me, anyway. it's just that," she ran an indicative glance over fao's lean, trim flanks and hard, flat abdomen, "it spoils your figure. it's only temporary, of course, but...." "_spoils_ it! why, how _utterly_ idiotic! why, it's magnificent! just as soon as it starts to show on me, belle, i'm going to start wearing only half as many clothes as i've got on now." "you couldn't." belle eyed the other girl's bathing-suit-like garment. except for being blue instead of yellow, it was the same as the one she had worn before. "not without the league for public decency sending the wagon out after you." "oh, miss experience? well, three-quarters, maybe...." "hey, you two!" came delcamp's hail. "how about cutting the gab and getting some work done?" "coming, boss! 'scuse it, please!" and two fast and skillful women went efficiently to work. * * * with six prime operators on the job the work went on very rapidly, yet without error. the _celestial queen_ was finished, tested, and found perfect, one full day ahead of james' most optimistic estimate for construction alone. the six primes conferred. "do you want us to help you pick up the other primes?" delcamp asked. "your main, big as it is, will be crowded, and we have three ships here now instead of one." "i don't think so ... no," garlock decided. "we told 'em we'd do it, and in the _pleiades_, so we'd better. unless, alsyne, you don't agree?" "i agree. the point, while of course minor, is very well taken. we and our operators--we brought six along; experts in their various fields--can serve best by working on tellus with its galaxian society in getting ready for the meeting." "oh, of course," fao said. "probably deg and i should do the same thing?" "that would be our thought." the two thakerns were thinking--and lepping--in fusion. "however," they went on carefully, "it must not be and is not our intent to sway you in any action or decision. while not all of you four, perhaps, are as yet fully mature, not one of you should be subjected to any additional exterior stresses." "i hope you don't think that way about _all_ primes," garlock said, grimly. "i'm going to smack some of those kids down so hard that their shirt-tails will roll up their backs like window shades." "if you find such action either necessary or desirable, we will join you quite happily in it. we go." the four remaining primes looked at each other in puzzled surprise. "_what_ do you think about _that_?" garlock asked finally, of no one in particular. "i don't understand them," fao said, "but they're mighty nice people." "do you suppose, clee," belle nibbled at her lower lip, "that we're getting off on the wrong foot with uniforms and admirals and things? that with really adult primes running things the galactic service would run itself? no bosses or anything?" "umnngk." garlock grunted as though belle had slugged him. "i hope not. or do i? anyway, not enough data yet to make speculation profitable. but i wonder, miss bellamy, if it would be considered an unjustifiable attempt to sway you in any action or decision if i were to suggest--oh, ever so diffidently!--that if we're going to saddle up our bronks and ride out on roundup tomorrow morning we ought to be logging some sack-time right now?" "considering the source, as well as and/or in connection with the admittedly extreme provocation," belle straightened up into a regal pose, "you may say, mister garlock, without fear of successful contradiction, that in this instance no umbrage will be taken, at least for the moment." she broke the pose and giggled infectiously. "'night, you two lovely people!" * * * belle was still sunny and gay when the _pleiades_ reached lizoria; garlock was inwardly happy and outwardly content. semolo, however, was his usual intransigent self. in fact, if it had not been for mirea mitala, and the fact that she--metaphorically--did pin semolo's ears back, garlock would not have taken him aboard at all. thus, after loading on only one pair of primes, that auspiciously-beginning day had lost some of its luster; and as the day wore on it got no better fast. baver of falne had not learned anything, either--only garlock's intervention saved the cocky and obstreperous semolo from a mental blast that would have knocked him out cold. then there were onthave and lerthe of crenna; korl and kirl of gleer; parleof and ginseona of pasquerone; atnim and sotara of flandoon, and eighty others. very few of them were as bad as semolo; some of them, particularly the pasqueronians and the gleerans, were almost as good as delcamp and fao. this was the first time that any pair of them had ever come physically close to any other prime. many of them had not really believed that any primes abler than themselves existed. the _pleiades_ was crowded, and garlock and belle were not giving to any of them the deference and consideration and submissive respect which each considered his unique due. wherefore the undertaking was neither easy nor pleasant; and both tellurians were tremendously relieved when, the last pair picked up, they flashed the starship back to tellus and delcamp, fao, and the thakerns 'ported themselves aboard. "give me your attention, please," garlock said, crisply. then, after a moment, "any and all who are not tuned to me in five seconds will be returned immediately to their home planets and will lose all contact with this group.... "that's better. for some of you this has been a very long day. for all of you it has been a very trying day. you were all informed previously as to what we had in mind. however, since you are young and callow, and were thoroughly convinced of your own omniscience and omnipotence, it is natural enough that you derived little or no benefit from that information. you are now facing reality, not your own fantasies. "each pair of you has been assigned a suite of rooms in galaxian hall. each suite is furnished appropriately; each is fully gunthered for self-service. "this meeting has not been announced to the public and, at least for the present, will not be. therefore none of you will attempt to communicate with anyone outside galaxian hall. anyone making any such attempt will be surprised. "the meeting will open at eight o'clock tomorrow morning in the auditorium. the thakerns and the margonians will now inform you as to your quarters." there was a moment of flashing thought. "dismissed." * * * at one second before eight o'clock the auditorium was empty. at eight o'clock, ninety-eight human beings appeared in it; six on the stage, the rest occupying the first few rows of seats. "good morning, everybody," garlock said, pleasantly. "everyone being rested, fed, and having had some time in which to consider the changed reality faced by us all, i hope and am inclined to believe that we can attain friendship and accord. we will spend the next hour in becoming acquainted with each other. we will walk around, not teleport. we will meet each other physically, as well as mentally. we will learn each other's forms of greeting and we will use them. this meeting is adjourned until nine o'clock--or, rather, the meeting will begin then." for several minutes no one moved. all blocks were locked at maximum. each prime used only his eyes. physically, it was a scene of almost overpowering perfection. the men were, without exception, handsome, strong, and magnificently male. the women, from heroically-framed fao talaho up--or down?--to surprisingly slender mirea mitala, all were arrestingly beautiful; breathtakingly proportioned; spectacularly female. clothing varied from complete absence to almost complete coverage, with a bewildering variety of intermediate conditions. color was rampant. * * * hair--or lack of it--was also an individual and highly variant matter. some of the women, like belle and fao, were content with one solid but unnatural shade. one shaven head--mirea mitala's--was deeply tanned, but unadorned, even though the rest of her body was almost covered by precious stones. another was decorated with geometrical and esoteric designs in eye-searing colors. a third supported a structure--it could not possibly be called a hat--of spun metal and gems. among the medium-and long-hairs there were two-, three-, and multi-toned jobs galore. some of the color-combinations were harmonious; some were sharply contrasting, such as black and white; some looked as though their wearers had used the most violently-clashing colors they could find. the prize-winner, however, was therea of thaker's enormous, inexplicable mop; and it was that phenomenon that first broke the ice. the girl with the decorated scalp had been glancing questioningly at neighbor after neighbor, only to be met by uncompromising stares. finally, however, her gaze met another, as interested as her own. this second girl, whose coiffure was a high-piled confection of black, white, yellow, red, blue, and green, half-masted her screen and said: "oh, thanks, jethay of lodie-yann. i'm glad everybody isn't going to stay locked up all day. i'm ginseona of pasquerone. they call me 'jin' whenever they want to call me anything printable. and _this_," she dug a knuckle into her companion's short ribs, whereupon he jumped, whirled around, lowered his screen, and grinned, "is my ... the boy friend, parleof. also of pasquerone, of course. par, both jethay and i...." "call me 'jet'--everybody does," jethay said: almost shyly, for a prime. "both jet and i have been wondering about that woman's hair--over there. how could you _possibly_ give a head of hair a static charge of fifty or a hundred kilovolts and not have it leak off?" "you couldn't, unless it was a perfectly-insulated wig ... but it looks as though she did, at that...." and parleof paused in thought. "maybe byuk would have an idea or two," and jet uttered aloud a dozen or so crackling syllables that sounded as though they could have been ladylike profanity. whatever they were, byuk jumped, too, and tuned in with the other three. "oh, it's quite easy, really," therea said then. "look." her mass of hair cascaded gracefully down around her neck and shoulders. "look again." each hair stood fiercely out all by itself, exactly as before. "all you young people will learn much more difficult and much more important things before this meeting is over. i cannot tell you how glad i am that so many of you are here." * * * and so it went, all over the auditorium. once cracked, the ice broke up fast. fao and delcamp worked hard; so did belle and garlock. alsyne was a potent force indeed--his abounding vitality and his tremendous smile broke down barriers that logic could not affect. and therea worked near-miracles; did more than the other five combined. her sympathy, her empathy, her understanding and feeling, were as great as lola's own; her operative ability was as much greater than lola's as lola's was greater than that of a bobby-soxed babysitter. thus, when half of the hour was gone, garlock heaved a profound sigh of relief. he wouldn't have half the trouble he had expected--it was not going to be a riot. and when he called the meeting to order he was pleasanter and friendlier than belle had ever before seen him. "while i am calling this meeting to order, it is only in the widest possible sense that i am its presiding officer, for we have as yet no organization by the delegated authority of which any man or any woman has any right to preside. yesterday i ruled by force; simply because i am stronger than any one of you or any pair of you. today, in the light of the developments of the last hour, that rule is done; except, perhaps, for one or two isolated and non-representative cases which may develop today. by this time tomorrow, i hope that we will be forever done with the law of claw and fang. for, as a much abler man has said--'to the really mature mind, the concept of status is completely invalid.'" "_he's putting that as a direct quote, alsyne, and it isn't._" belle lanced the thought. "_he thinks it is_," alsyne flashed back. "_that is the way his mathematician's mind recorded it._" "this meeting is informal, preliminary and exploratory. a meeting of minds from which, we hope, a useful and workable organization can be developed. since you all know what we think it basically should be, there is no need to repeat it. "i must now say something that a few of you will construe as a threat. you are all prime operators. each pair of you is the highest development of a planet, perhaps of a solar system. you can learn if you will. you can cooperate if you will. any couple here who refuses to learn, and hence to cooperate, will be returned to its native planet and will have no further contact with this group. "i now turn this meeting over to our first moderators, alsyne and therea of thaker; the oldest and ablest prime operators of us all." "thank you, garlock of tellus. one correction, however, if you please. i who speak am neither this man nor this woman standing here, but both. i am the prime unit of thaker. for brevity, and for the purposes of this meeting only, i could be called simply 'thaker.' before calling for general discussion i wish to call particular attention to two points, neither of which has been sufficiently emphasized. "first, the purpose of a prime operator is to serve, not to rule. thus, no prime should be or will be 'boss' of anything, except possibly of his own starship. "second, since we have no data we do not know what form the proposed galactic service will assume. one thing, however, is sure. whatever power of enforcement or of punishment it may have will derive, not from its primes, but from the fact that it will be an arm of the galactic council, which will be composed of operators only. no prime will be eligible for membership." * * * thaker went on to explain how each pair could obtain instruction and assistance in many projects, including starships. how each pair would, when they were mature enough, be coached in the use of certain abilities they did not as yet have. he suggested procedures and techniques to be employed in the opening up of each pair's volume of space. he then asked for questions and comments. semolo was the first. "if i'm a good little boy," he sneered, "and do exactly as i'm told, and take over the region you tell me to and not the one i want to, what assurance have i that some other prime, just because he's a year older than i am, won't come along and take it away from me?" "your question is meaningless," thaker replied. "since you will not 'take over,' or 'have,' or 'own,' any region, it cannot be 'taken away from you.'" "then i will...." semolo began. "you will keep still!" came a clear, incisive thought, just as garlock was getting ready to intervene. miss mitala then switched from thought, which everyone there could understand, and launched a ten-second blast of furious speech. semolo wilted and the girl went on in thought: "he'll be good--or else." a girl demanded recognition and got it. "semolo's right. what's the use of being primes if we can't get any good out of it? we're the strongest people of our respective worlds. i say we're bosses and should keep on being bosses." garlock got ready to shut her up, then paused; holding his fire. "ah, yes, friend garlock, you are maturing fast," came thaker's thought and, in answer to garlock's surprise, it went on, "this situation will, i think, be self-adjusting; just as will be those in the as yet unexplored regions of space." the girl kept on. "i, at least, am going to keep on bossing my own planet, milking it just as i...." her companion had been trying to crack her shield. failing in that, he stepped in close and tapped her--solidly, but with carefully-measured force--behind the ear. before she could fall, he 'ported her back up into their quarters. "this happens all the time," he explained to the group at large. "carry on." discussion went on, with less and less acrimony, all the rest of the day. and the next day, and the next. then, argument having reached the point of diminishing returns, the three starships took the forty-six couples home. * * * the six primes went into evans' office, where the lawyer was deeply engaged with gerald banks, the galaxians' public relations chief. banks was holding his head in both hands. "garlock, maybe _you_ can tell me," banks demanded. "how much of this stuff, if any, can i publish? and if so, _how_?" "nothing," garlock said, flatly. "what do you think, thaker?" belle asked. "you're smarter than we are." "what thaker thinks has no bearing," garlock said. belle, fao, and delcamp all began to protest at once, but they were silenced by thaker himself. "garlock is right. my people are not your people; i know not at all how your people think or what they will or will not believe. i go." "that lets deg and me out too; then, double-plus," fao said with a grin, "so we'll leave that baby on your laps. we go, too." "well, little miss weisenheimer," garlock smiled quizzically at belle, "you grabbed the ball--what are you going to do with it?" "nothing, i guess...." belle thought for a minute. "we couldn't stuff any part of that down the throat of a simple-minded six-year-old. we haven't really _got_ anything, anyway. time enough, i think, when we have six or seven hundred planets in each region, instead of only one planet. maybe we'll know something by then. does that make sense?" "it does to me," garlock said, and the others agreed. "that thakern 'we go' business sounds rough at first, but it's contagious. fao and deggi caught it, and i feel like i'm coming down with it myself. how about you, clee?" "we go," belle and garlock said in unison, and vanished. * * * aboard the _pleiades_, the next few days passed quietly enough. james set up, in the starship's memory banks, a sequence to mass-produce instruction tapes and blueprints. garlock and belle began systematically to explore the tellurian region. now, however, their technique was different. if either prime of any world was not enthusiastic about the project-- "very well. think it over," they would say. "we will get in touch with you again in about a year," and the starship would go on to the next planet. on earth, however, things became less and less tranquil with every day that passed. for, in deciding not to publish anything, garlock had not considered at all the basic function and the tremendous ability, power, and scope of _the press_. and galaxian hall had never before been closed to the public; not for any hour of any day of any year of its existence. a non-profit organization, dependent upon the public for its tremendous income, the galaxian society had always courted that public in every possible ethical way. thus, in the first hour of closure, a bored reporter came out, read the smoothly-phrased notice, and lepped it in to the desk. it might be worth, he thought, half an inch. later in the day, however, the world's most sensitive news-nose began to itch. did, or did not, this quiet, unannounced closing smell ever-so-slightly of cheese? wherefore, benjamin bundy, the newscaster who had covered the starship's maiden flight, went out himself to look the thing over. he found the whole field closed. not only closed, but gunther-blocked impenetrably tight. he studied the announcement, his sixth sense--the born newsman's sense for news--probing every word. "regret ... research ... of such extreme delicacy ... vibration ... temperature control ... one one-hundredth of one degree centigrade...." he sought out his long-time acquaintance banks; finding him in a temporary office half a block away from the hall. "what's the story, jerry?" he asked. "the _real_ story, i mean?" "you know, as much about it as i do, ben. garlock and james don't waste time trying to detail me on that kind of business, you know." this should have satisfied any newshawk, but bundy's nose still itched. he mulled things over for a minute, then probed, finding that he could read nothing except banks' outermost, most superficial thoughts. "well ... maybe ... but...." then bundy plunged. "all you have to do, jerry, is tell me screens-half-down that your damn story is true." "and that's the one thing i can't do," banks admitted; and bundy could not detect that any part of his sheepishness was feigned. "you're just too damned smart, ben." "oh--one of _those_ things? so that's it?" "yup. i told evans it might not work." that should have satisfied the reporter, but it didn't. "now it doesn't smell just a trifle cheesy; it stinks like rotten fish. you won't go screens down on that one, either." "no comment." "oh, joy!" bundy exulted. "so big that gerald banks, the top press-agent of all time, actually doesn't _want_ publicity! the starship works--this lack-of-control stuff is the bunk--from here to another star in nothing flat--garlock's back, and he's brought--what _have_ you got in there, jerry?" "the only way i can tell you is in confidence, for evans' release. i'd like to, ben, believe me, but i can't." "confidence, hell! do you think we won't get it?" "in that case, no comment." the interview ended and the siege began. * * * newshounds and detectives questioned and peered and probed. they dug into morgues, tabulating and classifying. they recalled and taped and sifted all the gossip they had heard. they got a picture of sorts, but it was maddeningly confusing and incomplete. and, since it was certain that inter-systemic matters were involved, they could not extrapolate--any guess was far too apt to be wrong. thus nothing went on the air or appeared in print; and, although the surface remained calm, all newsdom seethed to its depths. wherefore haggard banks and harried evans greeted garlock with shouts of joy when the four wanderers came back to spend the week end on earth. "i'll talk to 'em," garlock decided, after the long story had been told. "have somebody get hold of bundy and ask him to come out." "get _hold_ of him!" banks snorted. "he's here. twenty-four hours a day. eating sandwiches and cat-napping on chairs in the lobby. all you have to do is unseal that door." garlock flung the door wide. bundy rushed in, followed by a more-or-less steady stream of some fifty other top-bracket newspeople, both men and women. "well, garlock, perhaps _you_ will give us some screens-down facts?" bundy asked, angrily. "i'll give you _all_ the screens-down...." "clee!" "you're crazy!" "you can't!" "don't!" belle and all the operators protested at once. * * * ignoring the objections, garlock cut his shield to half and gave the whole group a true account of everything that had happened in the galaxy. then, while they were all too stunned to speak, a grin of saturnine amusement spread over his dark, five-o'clock-shadowed face. "you pestiferous gnats insisted on grabbing the ball," he sneered. "now let's see you run with it." bundy came out of his trance. "_what_ a story!" he yelled. "we'll plaster it...." "yeah," garlock said, dryly. "_what_ a story. exactly." "oh." bundy deflated suddenly. "you'll have to prove it--demonstrate it--of course." "of course? you tickle me. not only do i not have to prove it, i won't. i won't even confirm it." bundy glared at garlock, then whirled on banks. "if you don't give me this in shape to use, you'll never get another line or mention anywhere!" "oh, no?" for the first time in his professional life banks gloated, openly and avidly. "from now on, my friend, who is in the saddle? who is going to come to whom? oh, _brother_!" when the fuming newsmen had gone, garlock said, "it'll leak, of course." "of course," banks agreed. "'it is rumored ...' 'from a usually reliable source ...' and so on. nothing definite, but each one of them will want to put out the first and biggest." "that's what i figured. it'll have to break sometime and i thought easing it out would be best ... but wait a minute...." he thought for two solid minutes. "but we're going to need a lot of money, and we're just about broke, aren't we?" this thought was addressed to frank macey, the galaxians' treasurer. "worse than broke--much worse." "i could loan you a couple of credits, frank," belle said, brightly. "but go ahead, clee." "people like to be sidewalk superintendents. suppose they could watch the construction of an outpost so far away that nobody ever dreamed of ever getting there. could you do anything with that, jerry?" "_could i! just!_" and banks, went into a rhapsody. "that's the first good idea any one of you crackpots has had for five years," macey said, suddenly. "but wouldn't transportation of material and so on present problems?" "no; just buying it," garlock said, soberly. "oh, rather, paying for it." "no trouble there...." "what?" belle exclaimed. "'no trouble,' it says here in fine print? how the old skinflint has changed--instead of screaming his head off about spending money he's actually _offering_ to. frank, i'll loan you _three_ credits!" "hush, honey-chile, the men-folks are talking man-business. look, clee. we'll use the _pleiades_ at first, while we're building a regular transport. a hundred passengers per trip, one thousand credits one way...." "wow!" belle put in. "our ex-skinflint is now a bare-faced, legally-protected robber." "by no means, belle," evans said. "how much would that be per mile?" "say ten round trips per day. that would be twenty million a day gross for a small ship not intended for passenger service. when we get ships built ... and the extras...." the money-man went into a financial revel of his own. "lots of extras," banks agreed. "and oh, _brother_, what a public-relations dream of heaven!" "maybe i'm dumb," garlock broke in, "but just what are you going to use for money to get started?" "the minute we confirm any part of the story, the credit of the galaxian society will jump from x-o to aa-a ." "oh. so belle and i will have to lose our _pleiades_ for a while. i don't like that, but we do need the money ... but we can have her for this coming week?" "of course." "so maybe we'd better break the story now, instead of letting it leak." "can you, after what you just told them?" "sure i can." he set his mind and searched. "bundy, this is garlock...." "so what am i supposed to do--burst into tears of joy?" "save it. i changed my mind. you can break it as fast and as hard as you like. i'll play along." * * * "yeah? why the switch? what's the angle?" "strictly commercial. get it from banks." "and you'll--personally--go on my hour with it?" "yes. also, we'll demonstrate--take you to any star-system in the galaxy. you and all the rest of the newshawks who were here and any fifty vip's you want to invite. tomorrow morning all right with you?" "you, personally, in the _pleiades_?" bundy insisted. "better than that. the other two starships, too. you've got them--particularly those four primes--clearly in mind?" "not exactly, there was so much of it. spread it on me now, huh?" garlock did so. "thanks, pal, for the scoop. i'll crash it right now, and follow up with banks. 'bye!" "think you can deliver on that, clee?" banks asked. "sure. both deggi and alsyne will need a lot of extra money, fast. they'll play along." they did; and that three-starship tour--which visited twenty solar systems instead of one--was the most sensational thing old earth had ever spawned. belle and garlock did not spend that week end on earth. "we go," they said, as soon as the _pleiades_ was empty of pressmen, and they took james and lola along. "if we _never_ see another such brawl as this is going to be," belle told banks, who was basking in glory and entreating them to stay on for the show, "it will be exactly twenty minutes too soon." thus it came about that earth's first four deep-spacemen were completely out of reach when unexpected developments began. * * * alonzo p. ferber was one of the vip's on bundy's personally-conducted tour of the stars. as has been said, he was a very able executive. he had an extremely keen profit-sense. this new thing smelled--simply reeked--of money. sse would _have_ to get in on it. ferber was not thin-skinned; where money was concerned it would never even occur to him to cherish grudges or to retain animosities. wherefore sse's purchasing department suggested to the galaxian society that negotiations be opened concerning licenses, franchises, royalties, and so on. these suggestions were politely but firmly brushed off. then emissaries were sent, of ever-increasing caliber and weight. next, ferber himself tried the tri-di; and finally, he came in person. rebuffed, he made such legally-sound threats that evans and macey agreed to a meeting; stating flatly, however, that no commitments could possibly be made without the knowledge and approval of the society's president, cleander garlock. thus, at the meeting, the galaxians made only two statements that were even approximately definite. one was that garlock would probably return to earth during the afternoon or evening of the following friday; the other that they would take the matter up with garlock as soon as they could. after that meeting macey was unperturbed, but evans was a deeply worried man. "you see," he explained, "the real crux was not even mentioned." "no? what is it, then?" "operators, primes, and the practically non-existent laws pertaining to their ... what? labor? skill? genius? for instance, could garlock be forced to do whatever it is that he does? on the other hand, if ferber offered belle bellamy five million credits a year to 'work' for sse, is there anything we could do about it?" "oh. i thought all there was to it was that you'd delay 'em for a year or so and that'd be it." "far from it. to date i have listed fifty-eight points for which, as far as we can learn, there are no precedents," and the lawyer called a meeting of his staff. for belle and garlock, the week went fast. on friday afternoon, high above earth's galaxian field, garlock said, more than half regretfully, "no more fun. back to the desk. back to the salt-mines." "i weep for you," belle snickered. "sob, sob. shed him a tear, lola." "one tear coming up. oh, woe; oh, woe...." "oh, whoa!" james snorted. "why the sob-and-moan routine, clee, from a guy who's going to be monarch of all he surveys?" "his conscience aches him," belle explained. "this monarching business is tough if you haven't thought about how to monarch, and he hasn't. have you, clee?" "not a lick." garlock smiled slightly. "i been busy." "you better start to," she advised, darkly. "you aren't busy now and we have an hour. we better confer--i'll make like a slave-driver." they 'ported into his room and he set the blocks. his attitude changed instantly. "nice act, belle. what was it all about?" "that theory of yours. your predictions are too uncannily accurate to be guesswork, and the more times you dead-center the bullseye the worse scared i get. i really want to know, clee." "okay. it isn't complete--i need a lot more data--but i'll show you what i have. it's fairly strong medicine and it comes in big chunks." "it would have to--it covers the whole macrocosmic universe, doesn't it?" "yes. i'll start with the striking fact that, on every out-galaxy planet we visited, the human beings were _homo sapiens_ to n decimal places. fertile with each other and, according to expert testimony, with us. all planets had humanoid 'guardians,' the arpalones and arpales. some, but not all, had one or more non-human, more-or-less-intelligent races, such as the fumapties, the lemarts, the sencors, and so on. these other races never seemed to fight each other, but both races of guardians fought any and all of them, on sight and to the death. what do those facts mean to you?" * * * "nothing beyond face value. i've thought about them but i haven't been able to come up with anything." "i have." he unrolled a sheet of drafting paper covered with diagrams, symbols, and equations. "but before i go into this stuff, consider the human body. how many red cells are there in your blood stream?" "billions, i suppose." "and there are billions of human beings on billions of planets; each having red blood cells identical, as far as we know, with yours and mine. also white cells. also, sometimes, various kinds of pathogenic micro-organisms, such as staphs, streps, viruses, spiros, and so on. "okay. my thought is that the lemarts, ozobes, and the like are analogous to disease-producing organisms. we saw the full range of effects--from none at all up to death itself." "but they--the ozobes and so on--died, too." * * * "how long do disease germs live in a human body after they've killed it?" "but that horrible dilipic--the golop. they don't seem to fit." "try that on for size as cancer. also, the arpalones typed us before they'd let us land on any planet. why didn't we blast them out of the way and land anyway?" "why, we didn't want to. it wasn't worth while." "we couldn't. psychic block. and if we had, we would have died. different blood-types don't mix." "so you and i are merely two red cells in the bloodstream of a super-dooper-galactic super-monster? phooie!" she jeered. "that chestnut was propounded a thousand years ago. are you trying to take me for a ride on _that_ old sawhorse?" "that's the attitude i had at first. so now we're ready for the chart." he pointed to a group of symbols. "we start with symbolic logic; manipulating like so to get this." there was a long mathematical dissertation; a mind-to-mind, rigorous, point-by-point proof. "q. e. d." garlock concluded. "i see your math, and if i believed half of it i'd be scared witless. those few pieces fit, but they're scattered around in vast areas of blankness and you're jumping around like the swiss miss leaping from alp to alp. and how about our own galaxy, the most important piece of all? it's different, and we're different, mentally. that wrecks your whole theory." "no. i told you i need a lot more data. also, beyond a certain point the analogy appears to get looser." "_appears_ to! it's as loose as a goose!" "think a minute. is it actually loose, or are we getting up into concepts that no human mind can grasp? that might be the case, you know." "oh.... you're quite a salesman, clee, but i'm still not buying." "our galaxy is a bit of specialized tissue--part of a ganglion, maybe. over here, see? i'll have to leave it dangling until we find some more like it." "i see. but anyway, you haven't a tenth's worth of real material on that whole sheet. feed everything you have there into a computer and it'd just laugh at you." "sure it would. the great advantage of the human brain is its ability to arrive at valid conclusions from incomplete data. for instance, what would your computer do with the figures you shot at me the day we started out? 'thirty-nine, twenty-two, thirty-nine. five seven. one thirty-five.' yet they're completely informative." "to anyone interested in that kind of figures, yes." "which includes practically all adults. then take the figure three point one four one five nine. compy would still be baffled; but, unlike the first set, most people would be, too." "yes. perhaps two out of ten would get your message." "now take something really new, like the original work on gravitation or relativity. no possible computer would be of any use. that takes a _brain_!" "the brain of a newton or an einstein, yes." belle thought for a minute, then grinned at him impishly. "now watch the brain of a bellamy perform. get into high gear, brain.... i wish i knew something about biochemical embryology; but i read somewhere that ova are sterile, so our galaxy is an ovum. therefore our super-galooper is a gal--which incontrovertible fact accounts for and explains rigorously the long-known truth that women always have been, are now, and always will be vastly superior to men in every quality, aspect, and...." "hold it!" garlock snapped. his face hardened into intense concentration. then: "do you think you're kidding, belle?" "why, of _course_ i'm kidding, you big...." "look here, then." he picked up a pencil and filled in blank after blank after blank. "i'm making one unjustifiable assumption--that the _pleiades_ is the first intergalactic starship. the super-being is a female, and she is just becoming pregnant...." "flapdoodle! there are no blood cells in a sperm, and i don't think there are any in an ovum." "i didn't mention either sperm or ovum. the analogy is so loose here that it holds only in the broadest, most general terms. the actual process of reproduction is unknowable. but wherever we went, we changed things. not only by what we actually did, but also as a catalyst--no...." "no, not a catalyst. a hormone." "exactly. each of these changes would cause others, and so on. an infinite series. calling the first three terms alpha, beta, and gamma, we operate like this...." garlock's pencil was flying now. "following me?" "on your tail." belle was breathing hard; as the blank spaces became fewer and fewer her face began to turn white. "from this we get that ... and _that_ makes the whole bracket tie into the same conclusion i had before. so, except for that one assumption, it's solid." * * * "my lord, clee!" belle studied the chart. "i mentioned newton and einstein ... add to that 'the brain of a garlock, better than either.'" then, seeing his reaction, "you're blushing. i didn't think...." "cut the comedy. you know i couldn't carry either of their hats to a dog-fight." "and i would _never_ have believed that you are basically modest." "i said cut out the kidding, belle." "i'm deadly serious. a brain that could do _that_," she waved at the chart, "... well, even i am not enough of a heel to belittle one of the most tremendous intuitions ever achieved by man. not that i like it. it's horrible. it denies mankind everything that made him come up from the slime--everything that made him man." * * * "not at all. nothing is changed, in man's own frame of reference. it merely takes our thinking one step farther. that step, of course, isn't easy." "_that_ is the understatement of all time. what it will _do_, though, is set up an inferiority complex that would wipe out the whole human race." "there might be some slight tendency. also, since my basic assumption can't be justified, the whole thing may be fallacious. so i'm not going to publish it." he glanced at the chart and it vanished. "clee!" belle stared, almost goggle-eyed. "with your name? the tremendous splash ... i see. you're really grown up." "not all the way, probably; but pretty nearly--i hope." "but some of the ... not exactly corollaries, but...." belle's face, which had regained some of its color, began again to pale. "which one of the many?" "the most shattering one, to me, concerns intelligence. if it is true that our vaunted mentality is only that of one blood cell compared to that of a whole brain ... and that intelligence is banked, level upon level ... well, it's simply mind-wrecking. i've been trying madly not to think of that concept, at all, but i can't put it off much longer." "now's as good a time as any. i'll hold your hand." "you'd better hold more of me than that, i think." "i'll do even that, in a good cause." he put his arms around her; held her close. "go ahead. face it. all the way down and all the way up. you've got what it takes. you'll come back sane and it'll never bother you again." she closed her eyes, put her head on his shoulder. her every muscle went tense. neither of them ever knew how long they stood there, close-clasped and motionless in silence; but finally her muscles loosened. she lifted her head; raised her brimming eyes. "all the way down?" he asked. "to almost a geometrical point." "and all the way up?" "i touched the fringe of infinity." "intelligence all the way?" "all the way. i couldn't understand any of them, of course, but i looked each one squarely in the eye." "good girl. and you're still sane." "as much so as ever ... more so, maybe." she disengaged herself, sat down on the bed, lighted a cigarette, and smoked half of it. then she stood up. "clee, if anything in the whole universe ever knocked hell out of anything, that did out of me. i'm going to do something that will take about ten minutes. will you wait right here?" "of course. take all the time you want." * * * when she came back garlock leaped to his feet and stared speechlessly. he could not even whistle. belle's hair was now its natural deep, rich chestnut, her lipstick was red, her nails were bare, and she wore a white shirt and an almost-knee-length crimson skirt. "here's what i'm going to do," she said, quietly. "i'm going to be a plain, ordinary brownette. i'm going to marry you as soon as we land; registered permanent family. i'm going to have six kids and spoil them rotten. in short, i have grown up--partly up, at least--too." "plain?" he managed, finally. "ordinary? you? yes--like a super-nova going off under a man's feet!" with a visible effort, garlock pulled himself together. "i don't need to tell you what a surprise this is, and can't tell you what it means to me. but you never have said you love me. hadn't you better?" "i'm afraid to. our next kiss will be different. i'd spoil all this nice new make-up." she tried to grin in her old-time fashion, but failed. she sobered, then, and went on with a completely new intensity. "listen, clee. i'm all done--forever--lying and pretending to you. i love you so much that ... well, there simply aren't any thoughts. and when i think of how i acted, it hurts--lord, how it hurts! i don't see how you can love me at all. it'd take a miracle." "miracles happen, then." he put both arms around her, very gently. "for the first time in my life i'm cutting my screens to zero. come in." "what?" for a moment she was unable to believe the thought. then, cutting her own shield, she went fully into his mind. "oh, i didn't dare hope you could _possibly_ feel.... oh, this is wonderful, clee--simply _wonderful_!" as the two fully-opened minds met and joined she threw both arms around him and their embrace tightened as though their bodies were trying to become as nearly one as were their minds. finally she pulled herself away and put up a solid block. "what a mess!" she said, shakily. "lipstick all _over_ you." "why words, sweetheart? that was perfect." "oh, it was ... but wide open, with such a mind as yours...." she paused, then came back to normal almost with a snap. "... but say; i'll bet that's what therea and alsyne were doing. that 'fusion' thing. we'll practise it tonight." he pondered briefly. "sure it was." "but he said they learned it from us. how could he have, when we.... oh, we did, of course, in moments of high stress ... but we didn't actually _know_ it...." she paused. "we wouldn't admit it, you mean, even to ourselves." "maybe; and of course it never occurred to us--callow youngsters we were then, weren't we?--that it could be done for more than a microsecond at a time. or that two people could ever, possibly, _live_ that way." "or what a life it would be. so let's chop this and get back to you and me." "uh-huh, let's," she agreed, but in a severely practical tone. "you've got lipstick even on your shirt. so change it and i'll go put on a new face and bring over some stuff and clean you up." while she cleaned, she talked. "i told you our next kiss would be different, but i had no idea ... wow! _that_ will be as much different, too, i'm sure.... hm-h-h-nh?" again she pressed herself against him; this time in a somewhat different fashion. "stop that, you little devil, or i'll...." his arms came up of themselves, but he forced them back down. "... no, i won't. we'll save that for tonight, too." "i'll behave myself!" she laughed, pure joy in voice, eyes, and smile. "i bet myself you wouldn't and i won! you're tall, solid gold, clee darling--the absolute top." "thanks, sweetheart. i wish that were true," he said, soberly. "but i can't help wondering if two such hellions as you and i are can make a go of marriage--no, cancel that. we'll do it--all we have to figure out is how." "i know what you mean. not at first--it'll be purely wonderful then. after five years, say, when the glamor has worn off and i've had three of our six children and two of them are in bed with the epizootic and i'm all frazzled out and you're strung up tight as a bowstring with overwork and...." "hold it! uh-uh. no. if we can live together six months--or even six weeks--without killing each other, we'll have it made. it's at first that it'll be rugged. no matter how rugged it gets, though, we'll know one thing for certain sure. we _couldn't_ live apart. that'll give us enough leverage. check?" "and double check." she giggled sunnily. "i'll take care of any and all situations, whatever they are, that arise in the first six months. you'll be responsible for the next sixty years. that's a perfectly fair and equitable division of responsibility. now kiss me and we'll go." * * * when garlock cut the gunther blocks, however, james' thought came instantly in. "been trying to get you for twenty minutes," and in a couple of seconds he brought garlock and belle up to date. "so fatso's been waiting in evans' office. he's throwing fits all over the place and evans and macey are going quietly mad." "he'll have to wait," garlock decided instantly. "no matter how many fits he has, no such decision is going to be made until there's enough of a galactic council to make it." "well, you'll have to tell him that yourself. in person." "i'll do just that, and tell him so he'll stay told." "okay, but shake a...." belle and garlock 'ported out into the main, arms around each other like a couple of college freshmen. "... leg-g--ug--gug...." james gurgled. "_belle!_" lola shrieked. "_why--belle--bellamy!_" "_what_ goes _on_ here?" james demanded. "nothing much," garlock replied, although he blushed almost as deeply as belle did. "we just decided to quit fighting, is all. cut the rope, junior, and let the old bucket drop." the end none puck of pook's hill by rudyard kipling contents weland's sword puck's song a tree song young men at the manor sir richard's song the knights of the joyous venture harp song of the dane women thorkild's song old men at pevensey the runes on weland's sword a centurion of the thirtieth 'cities and thrones and powers' a british-roman song on the great wall a song to mithras the winged hats a pict song hal o' the draft 'prophets have honour all over the earth' a smugglers' song 'dymchurch flit' the bee boy's song a three-part song the treasure and the law song of the fifth river the children's song weland's sword puck's song see you the dimpled track that runs, all hollow through the wheat? o that was where they hauled the guns that smote king philip's fleet! see you our little mill that clacks, so busy by the brook? she has ground her corn and paid her tax ever since domesday book. see you our stilly woods of oak, and the dread ditch beside? o that was where the saxons broke, on the day that harold died! see you the windy levels spread about the gates of rye? o that was where the northmen fled, when alfred's ships came by! see you our pastures wide and lone, where the red oxen browse? o there was a city thronged and known, ere london boasted a house! and see you, after rain, the trace of mound and ditch and wall? o that was a legion's camping-place, when caesar sailed from gaul! and see you marks that show and fade, like shadows on the downs? o they are the lines the flint men made, to guard their wondrous towns! trackway and camp and city lost, salt marsh where now is corn; old wars, old peace, old arts that cease, and so was england born! she is not any common earth, water or wood or air, but merlin's isle of gramarye, where you and i will fare. the children were at the theatre, acting to three cows as much as they could remember of midsummer night's dream. their father had made them a small play out of the big shakespeare one, and they had rehearsed it with him and with their mother till they could say it by heart. they began when nick bottom the weaver comes out of the bushes with a donkey's head on his shoulders, and finds titania, queen of the fairies, asleep. then they skipped to the part where bottom asks three little fairies to scratch his head and bring him honey, and they ended where he falls asleep in titania's arms. dan was puck and nick bottom, as well as all three fairies. he wore a pointy-cloth cap for puck, and a paper donkey's head out of a christmas cracker--but it tore if you were not careful--for bottom. una was titania, with a wreath of columbines and a foxglove wand. the theatre lay in a meadow called the long slip. a little mill-stream, carrying water to a mill two or three fields away, bent round one corner of it, and in the middle of the bend lay a large old fairy ring of darkened grass, which was the stage. the millstream banks, overgrown with willow, hazel, and guelder-rose, made convenient places to wait in till your turn came; and a grown-up who had seen it said that shakespeare himself could not have imagined a more suitable setting for his play. they were not, of course, allowed to act on midsummer night itself, but they went down after tea on midsummer eve, when the shadows were growing, and they took their supper--hard-boiled eggs, bath oliver biscuits, and salt in an envelope--with them. three cows had been milked and were grazing steadily with a tearing noise that one could hear all down the meadow; and the noise of the mill at work sounded like bare feet running on hard ground. a cuckoo sat on a gate-post singing his broken june tune, 'cuckoo-cuck', while a busy kingfisher crossed from the mill-stream, to the brook which ran on the other side of the meadow. everything else was a sort of thick, sleepy stillness smelling of meadow-sweet and dry grass. their play went beautifully. dan remembered all his parts--puck, bottom, and the three fairies--and una never forgot a word of titania--not even the difficult piece where she tells the fairies how to feed bottom with 'apricocks, green figs, and dewberries', and all the lines end in 'ies'. they were both so pleased that they acted it three times over from beginning to end before they sat down in the unthistly centre of the ring to eat eggs and bath olivers. this was when they heard a whistle among the alders on the bank, and they jumped. the bushes parted. in the very spot where dan had stood as puck they saw a small, brown, broad-shouldered, pointy-eared person with a snub nose, slanting blue eyes, and a grin that ran right across his freckled face. he shaded his forehead as though he were watching quince, snout, bottom, and the others rehearsing pyramus and thisbe, and, in a voice as deep as three cows asking to be milked, he began: 'what hempen homespuns have we swaggering here, so near the cradle of the fairy queen?' he stopped, hollowed one hand round his ear, and, with a wicked twinkle in his eye, went on: 'what, a play toward? i'll be an auditor; an actor, too, perhaps, if i see cause.' the children looked and gasped. the small thing--he was no taller than dan's shoulder--stepped quietly into the ring. 'i'm rather out of practice,' said he; 'but that's the way my part ought to be played.' still the children stared at him--from his dark-blue cap, like a big columbine flower, to his bare, hairy feet. at last he laughed. 'please don't look like that. it isn't my fault. what else could you expect?' he said. 'we didn't expect any one,' dan answered slowly. 'this is our field.' 'is it?' said their visitor, sitting down. 'then what on human earth made you act midsummer night's dream three times over, on midsummer eve, in the middle of a ring, and under--right under one of my oldest hills in old england? pook's hill--puck's hill--puck's hill--pook's hill! it's as plain as the nose on my face.' he pointed to the bare, fern-covered slope of pook's hill that runs up from the far side of the mill-stream to a dark wood. beyond that wood the ground rises and rises for five hundred feet, till at last you climb out on the bare top of beacon hill, to look over the pevensey levels and the channel and half the naked south downs. 'by oak, ash, and thorn!' he cried, still laughing. 'if this had happened a few hundred years ago you'd have had all the people of the hills out like bees in june!' 'we didn't know it was wrong,' said dan. 'wrong!' the little fellow shook with laughter. 'indeed, it isn't wrong. you've done something that kings and knights and scholars in old days would have given their crowns and spurs and books to find out. if merlin himself had helped you, you couldn't have managed better! you've broken the hills--you've broken the hills! it hasn't happened in a thousand years.' 'we--we didn't mean to,' said una. 'of course you didn't! that's just why you did it. unluckily the hills are empty now, and all the people of the hills are gone. i'm the only one left. i'm puck, the oldest old thing in england, very much at your service if--if you care to have anything to do with me. if you don't, of course you've only to say so, and i'll go.' he looked at the children, and the children looked at him for quite half a minute. his eyes did not twinkle any more. they were very kind, and there was the beginning of a good smile on his lips. una put out her hand. 'don't go,' she said. 'we like you.' 'have a bath oliver,' said dan, and he passed over the squashy envelope with the eggs. 'by oak, ash and thorn,' cried puck, taking off his blue cap, 'i like you too. sprinkle a plenty salt on the biscuit, dan, and i'll eat it with you. that'll show you the sort of person i am. some of us'--he went on, with his mouth full--'couldn't abide salt, or horse-shoes over a door, or mountain-ash berries, or running water, or cold iron, or the sound of church bells. but i'm puck!' he brushed the crumbs carefully from his doublet and shook hands. 'we always said, dan and i,' una stammered, 'that if it ever happened we'd know ex-actly what to do; but--but now it seems all different somehow.' 'she means meeting a fairy,'said dan. 'i never believed in 'em--not after i was six, anyhow.' 'i did,' said una. 'at least, i sort of half believed till we learned "farewell, rewards". do you know "farewell, rewards and fairies"?' 'do you mean this?' said puck. he threw his big head back and began at the second line: 'good housewives now may say, for now foul sluts in dairies do fare as well as they; and though they sweep their hearths no less ('join in, una!') than maids were wont to do, yet who of late for cleanliness finds sixpence in her shoe?' the echoes flapped all along the flat meadow. 'of course i know it,' he said. 'and then there's the verse about the rings,' said dan. 'when i was little it always made me feel unhappy in my inside.' "'witness those rings and roundelays", do you mean?' boomed puck, with a voice like a great church organ. 'of theirs which yet remain, were footed in queen mary's days on many a grassy plain, but since of late elizabeth, and, later, james came in, are never seen on any heath as when the time hath been. 'it's some time since i heard that sung, but there's no good beating about the bush: it's true. the people of the hills have all left. i saw them come into old england and i saw them go. giants, trolls, kelpies, brownies, goblins, imps; wood, tree, mound, and water spirits; heath-people, hill-watchers, treasure-guards, good people, little people, pishogues, leprechauns, night-riders, pixies, nixies, gnomes, and the rest--gone, all gone! i came into england with oak, ash and thorn, and when oak, ash and thorn are gone i shall go too.' dan looked round the meadow--at una's oak by the lower gate; at the line of ash trees that overhang otter pool where the millstream spills over when the mill does not need it, and at the gnarled old white-thorn where three cows scratched their necks. 'it's all right,' he said; and added, 'i'm planting a lot of acorns this autumn too.' 'then aren't you most awfully old?' said una. 'not old--fairly long-lived, as folk say hereabouts. let me see--my friends used to set my dish of cream for me o' nights when stonehenge was new. yes, before the flint men made the dewpond under chanctonbury ring.' una clasped her hands, cried 'oh!' and nodded her head. 'she's thought a plan,' dan explained. 'she always does like that when she thinks a plan.' 'i was thinking--suppose we saved some of our porridge and put it in the attic for you? they'd notice if we left it in the nursery.' 'schoolroom,' said dan quickly, and una flushed, because they had made a solemn treaty that summer not to call the schoolroom the nursery any more. 'bless your heart o' gold!' said puck. 'you'll make a fine considering wench some market-day. i really don't want you to put out a bowl for me; but if ever i need a bite, be sure i'll tell you.' he stretched himself at length on the dry grass, and the children stretched out beside him, their bare legs waving happily in the air. they felt they could not be afraid of him any more than of their particular friend old hobden the hedger. he did not bother them with grown-up questions, or laugh at the donkey's head, but lay and smiled to himself in the most sensible way. 'have you a knife on you?' he said at last. dan handed over his big one-bladed outdoor knife, and puck began to carve out a piece of turf from the centre of the ring. 'what's that for--magic?' said una, as he pressed up the square of chocolate loam that cut like so much cheese. 'one of my little magics,' he answered, and cut another. 'you see, i can't let you into the hills because the people of the hills have gone; but if you care to take seisin from me, i may be able to show you something out of the common here on human earth. you certainly deserve it.' 'what's taking seisin?' said dan, cautiously. 'it's an old custom the people had when they bought and sold land. they used to cut out a clod and hand it over to the buyer, and you weren't lawfully seised of your land--it didn't really belong to you--till the other fellow had actually given you a piece of it--'like this.' he held out the turves. 'but it's our own meadow,' said dan, drawing back. 'are you going to magic it away?' puck laughed. 'i know it's your meadow, but there's a great deal more in it than you or your father ever guessed. try!' he turned his eyes on una. 'i'll do it,' she said. dan followed her example at once. 'now are you two lawfully seised and possessed of all old england,' began puck, in a sing-song voice. 'by right of oak, ash, and thorn are you free to come and go and look and know where i shall show or best you please. you shall see what you shall see and you shall hear what you shall hear, though it shall have happened three thousand year; and you shall know neither doubt nor fear. fast! hold fast all i give you.' the children shut their eyes, but nothing happened. 'well?' said una, disappointedly opening them. 'i thought there would be dragons.' "'though it shall have happened three thousand year,"' said puck, and counted on his fingers. 'no; i'm afraid there were no dragons three thousand years ago.' 'but there hasn't happened anything at all,' said dan. 'wait awhile,' said puck. 'you don't grow an oak in a year--and old england's older than twenty oaks. let's sit down again and think. i can do that for a century at a time.' 'ah, but you're a fairy,' said dan. 'have you ever heard me say that word yet?' said puck quickly. 'no. you talk about "the people of the hills", but you never say "fairies",' said una. 'i was wondering at that. don't you like it?' 'how would you like to be called "mortal" or "human being" all the time?' said puck; 'or "son of adam" or "daughter of eve"?' 'i shouldn't like it at all,' said dan. 'that's how the djinns and afrits talk in the arabian nights.' 'and that's how i feel about saying--that word that i don't say. besides, what you call them are made-up things the people of the hills have never heard of--little buzzflies with butterfly wings and gauze petticoats, and shiny stars in their hair, and a wand like a schoolteacher's cane for punishing bad boys and rewarding good ones. i know 'em!' 'we don't mean that sort,'said dan. 'we hate 'em too.' 'exactly,' said puck. 'can you wonder that the people of the hills don't care to be confused with that painty-winged, wand-waving, sugar-and-shake-your-head set of impostors? butterfly wings, indeed! i've seen sir huon and a troop of his people setting off from tintagel castle for hy-brasil in the teeth of a sou'-westerly gale, with the spray flying all over the castle, and the horses of the hills wild with fright. out they'd go in a lull, screaming like gulls, and back they'd be driven five good miles inland before they could come head to wind again. butterfly-wings! it was magic--magic as black as merlin could make it, and the whole sea was green fire and white foam with singing mermaids in it. and the horses of the hills picked their way from one wave to another by the lightning flashes! that was how it was in the old days!' 'splendid,' said dan, but una shuddered. 'i'm glad they're gone, then; but what made the people of the hills go away?' una asked. 'different things. i'll tell you one of them some day--the thing that made the biggest flit of any,' said puck. 'but they didn't all flit at once. they dropped off, one by one, through the centuries. most of them were foreigners who couldn't stand our climate. they flitted early.' 'how early?' said dan. 'a couple of thousand years or more. the fact is they began as gods. the phoenicians brought some over when they came to buy tin; and the gauls, and the jutes, and the danes, and the frisians, and the angles brought more when they landed. they were always landing in those days, or being driven back to their ships, and they always brought their gods with them. england is a bad country for gods. now, i began as i mean to go on. a bowl of porridge, a dish of milk, and a little quiet fun with the country folk in the lanes was enough for me then, as it is now. i belong here, you see, and i have been mixed up with people all my days. but most of the others insisted on being gods, and having temples, and altars, and priests, and sacrifices of their own.' 'people burned in wicker baskets?' said dan. 'like miss blake tells us about?' 'all sorts of sacrifices,' said puck. 'if it wasn't men, it was horses, or cattle, or pigs, or metheglin--that's a sticky, sweet sort of beer. i never liked it. they were a stiff-necked, extravagant set of idols, the old things. but what was the result? men don't like being sacrificed at the best of times; they don't even like sacrificing their farm-horses. after a while, men simply left the old things alone, and the roofs of their temples fell in, and the old things had to scuttle out and pick up a living as they could. some of them took to hanging about trees, and hiding in graves and groaning o' nights. if they groaned loud enough and long enough they might frighten a poor countryman into sacrificing a hen, or leaving a pound of butter for them. i remember one goddess called belisama. she became a common wet water-spirit somewhere in lancashire. and there were hundreds of other friends of mine. first they were gods. then they were people of the hills, and then they flitted to other places because they couldn't get on with the english for one reason or another. there was only one old thing, i remember, who honestly worked for his living after he came down in the world. he was called weland, and he was a smith to some gods. i've forgotten their names, but he used to make them swords and spears. i think he claimed kin with thor of the scandinavians.' 'heroes of asgard thor?' said una. she had been reading the book. 'perhaps,' answered puck. 'none the less, when bad times came, he didn't beg or steal. he worked; and i was lucky enough to be able to do him a good turn.' 'tell us about it,' said dan. 'i think i like hearing of old things.' they rearranged themselves comfortably, each chewing a grass stem. puck propped himself on one strong arm and went on: 'let's think! i met weland first on a november afternoon in a sleet storm, on pevensey level.' 'pevensey? over the hill, you mean?' dan pointed south. 'yes; but it was all marsh in those days, right up to horsebridge and hydeneye. i was on beacon hill--they called it brunanburgh then--when i saw the pale flame that burning thatch makes, and i went down to look. some pirates--i think they must have been peor's men--were burning a village on the levels, and weland's image--a big, black wooden thing with amber beads round his neck--lay in the bows of a black thirty-two-oar galley that they had just beached. bitter cold it was! there were icicles hanging from her deck and the oars were glazed over with ice, and there was ice on weland's lips. when he saw me he began a long chant in his own tongue, telling me how he was going to rule england, and how i should smell the smoke of his altars from lincolnshire to the isle of wight. i didn't care! i'd seen too many gods charging into old england to be upset about it. i let him sing himself out while his men were burning the village, and then i said (i don't know what put it into my head), "smith of the gods," i said, "the time comes when i shall meet you plying your trade for hire by the wayside."' 'what did weland say?' said una. 'was he angry?' 'he called me names and rolled his eyes, and i went away to wake up the people inland. but the pirates conquered the country, and for centuries weland was a most important god. he had temples everywhere--from lincolnshire to the isle of wight, as he said--and his sacrifices were simply scandalous. to do him justice, he preferred horses to men; but men or horses, i knew that presently he'd have to come down in the world--like the other old things. i gave him lots of time--i gave him about a thousand years--and at the end of 'em i went into one of his temples near andover to see how he prospered. there was his altar, and there was his image, and there were his priests, and there were the congregation, and everybody seemed quite happy, except weland and the priests. in the old days the congregation were unhappy until the priests had chosen their sacrifices; and so would you have been. when the service began a priest rushed out, dragged a man up to the altar, pretended to hit him on the head with a little gilt axe, and the man fell down and pretended to die. then everybody shouted: "a sacrifice to weland! a sacrifice to weland!"' 'and the man wasn't really dead?' said una. 'not a bit. all as much pretence as a dolls' tea-party. then they brought out a splendid white horse, and the priest cut some hair from its mane and tail and burned it on the altar, shouting, "a sacrifice!" that counted the same as if a man and a horse had been killed. i saw poor weland's face through the smoke, and i couldn't help laughing. he looked so disgusted and so hungry, and all he had to satisfy himself was a horrid smell of burning hair. just a dolls' tea-party! 'i judged it better not to say anything then ('twouldn't have been fair), and the next time i came to andover, a few hundred years later, weland and his temple were gone, and there was a christian bishop in a church there. none of the people of the hills could tell me anything about him, and i supposed that he had left england.' puck turned, lay on his other elbow, and thought for a long time. 'let's see,' he said at last. 'it must have been some few years later--a year or two before the conquest, i think--that i came back to pook's hill here, and one evening i heard old hobden talking about weland's ford.' 'if you mean old hobden the hedger, he's only seventy-two. he told me so himself,' said dan. 'he's a intimate friend of ours.' 'you're quite right,' puck replied. 'i meant old hobden's ninth great-grandfather. he was a free man and burned charcoal hereabouts. i've known the family, father and son, so long that i get confused sometimes. hob of the dene was my hobden's name, and he lived at the forge cottage. of course, i pricked up my ears when i heard weland mentioned, and i scuttled through the woods to the ford just beyond bog wood yonder.' he jerked his head westward, where the valley narrows between wooded hills and steep hop-fields. 'why, that's willingford bridge,' said una. 'we go there for walks often. there's a kingfisher there.' 'it was weland's ford then, dearie. a road led down to it from the beacon on the top of the hill--a shocking bad road it was--and all the hillside was thick, thick oak-forest, with deer in it. there was no trace of weland, but presently i saw a fat old farmer riding down from the beacon under the greenwood tree. his horse had cast a shoe in the clay, and when he came to the ford he dismounted, took a penny out of his purse, laid it on a stone, tied the old horse to an oak, and called out: "smith, smith, here is work for you!" then he sat down and went to sleep. you can imagine how i felt when i saw a white-bearded, bent old blacksmith in a leather apron creep out from behind the oak and begin to shoe the horse. it was weland himself. i was so astonished that i jumped out and said: "what on human earth are you doing here, weland?"' 'poor weland!' sighed una. 'he pushed the long hair back from his forehead (he didn't recognize me at first). then he said: "you ought to know. you foretold it, old thing. i'm shoeing horses for hire. i'm not even weland now," he said. "they call me wayland-smith."' 'poor chap!' said dan. 'what did you say?' 'what could i say? he looked up, with the horse's foot on his lap, and he said, smiling, "i remember the time when i wouldn't have accepted this old bag of bones as a sacrifice, and now i'm glad enough to shoe him for a penny." "'isn't there any way for you to get back to valhalla, or wherever you come from?" i said. "'i'm afraid not," he said, rasping away at the hoof. he had a wonderful touch with horses. the old beast was whinnying on his shoulder. "you may remember that i was not a gentle god in my day and my time and my power. i shall never be released till some human being truly wishes me well." "'surely," said i, "the farmer can't do less than that. you're shoeing the horse all round for him." "'yes," said he, "and my nails will hold a shoe from one full moon to the next. but farmers and weald clay," said he, "are both uncommon cold and sour." 'would you believe it, that when that farmer woke and found his horse shod he rode away without one word of thanks? i was so angry that i wheeled his horse right round and walked him back three miles to the beacon, just to teach the old sinner politeness.' 'were you invisible?' said una. puck nodded, gravely. 'the beacon was always laid in those days ready to light, in case the french landed at pevensey; and i walked the horse about and about it that lee-long summer night. the farmer thought he was bewitched--well, he was, of course--and began to pray and shout. i didn't care! i was as good a christian as he any fair-day in the county, and about four o'clock in the morning a young novice came along from the monastery that used to stand on the top of beacon hill.' 'what's a novice?' said dan. 'it really means a man who is beginning to be a monk, but in those days people sent their sons to a monastery just the same as a school. this young fellow had been to a monastery in france for a few months every year, and he was finishing his studies in the monastery close to his home here. hugh was his name, and he had got up to go fishing hereabouts. his people owned all this valley. hugh heard the farmer shouting, and asked him what in the world he meant. the old man spun him a wonderful tale about fairies and goblins and witches; and i know he hadn't seen a thing except rabbits and red deer all that night. (the people of the hills are like otters--they don't show except when they choose.) but the novice wasn't a fool. he looked down at the horse's feet, and saw the new shoes fastened as only weland knew how to fasten 'em. (weland had a way of turning down the nails that folks called the smith's clinch.) "'h'm!" said the novice. "where did you get your horse shod?" 'the farmer wouldn't tell him at first, because the priests never liked their people to have any dealings with the old things. at last he confessed that the smith had done it. "what did you pay him?" said the novice. "penny," said the farmer, very sulkily. "that's less than a christian would have charged," said the novice. "i hope you threw a 'thank you' into the bargain." "no," said the farmer; "wayland-smith's a heathen." "heathen or no heathen," said the novice, "you took his help, and where you get help there you must give thanks." "what?" said the farmer--he was in a furious temper because i was walking the old horse in circles all this time--"what, you young jackanapes?" said he. "then by your reasoning i ought to say 'thank you' to satan if he helped me?" "don't roll about up there splitting reasons with me," said the novice. "come back to the ford and thank the smith, or you'll be sorry." 'back the farmer had to go. i led the horse, though no one saw me, and the novice walked beside us, his gown swishing through the shiny dew and his fishing-rod across his shoulders, spear-wise. when we reached the ford again--it was five o'clock and misty still under the oaks--the farmer simply wouldn't say "thank you." he said he'd tell the abbot that the novice wanted him to worship heathen gods. then hugh the novice lost his temper. he just cried, "out!" put his arm under the farmer's fat leg, and heaved him from his saddle on to the turf, and before he could rise he caught him by the back of the neck and shook him like a rat till the farmer growled, "thank you, wayland-smith."' 'did weland see all this?' said dan. 'oh yes, and he shouted his old war-cry when the farmer thudded on to the ground. he was delighted. then the novice turned to the oak tree and said, "ho, smith of the gods! i am ashamed of this rude farmer; but for all you have done in kindness and charity to him and to others of our people, i thank you and wish you well." then he picked up his fishing-rod--it looked more like a tall spear than ever--and tramped off down your valley.' 'and what did poor weland do?' said una. 'he laughed and he cried with joy, because he had been released at last, and could go away. but he was an honest old thing. he had worked for his living and he paid his debts before he left. "i shall give that novice a gift," said weland. "a gift that shall do him good the wide world over and old england after him. blow up my fire, old thing, while i get the iron for my last task." then he made a sword--a dark-grey, wavy-lined sword--and i blew the fire while he hammered. by oak, ash and thorn, i tell you, weland was a smith of the gods! he cooled that sword in running water twice, and the third time he cooled it in the evening dew, and he laid it out in the moonlight and said runes (that's charms) over it, and he carved runes of prophecy on the blade. "old thing," he said to me, wiping his forehead, "this is the best blade that weland ever made. even the user will never know how good it is. come to the monastery." 'we went to the dormitory where the monks slept, we saw the novice fast asleep in his cot, and weland put the sword into his hand, and i remember the young fellow gripped it in his sleep. then weland strode as far as he dared into the chapel and threw down all his shoeing-tools--his hammers and pincers and rasps--to show that he had done with them for ever. it sounded like suits of armour falling, and the sleepy monks ran in, for they thought the monastery had been attacked by the french. the novice came first of all, waving his new sword and shouting saxon battle-cries. when they saw the shoeing-tools they were very bewildered, till the novice asked leave to speak, and told what he had done to the farmer, and what he had said to wayland-smith, and how, though the dormitory light was burning, he had found the wonderful rune-carved sword in his cot. 'the abbot shook his head at first, and then he laughed and said to the novice: "son hugh, it needed no sign from a heathen god to show me that you will never be a monk. take your sword, and keep your sword, and go with your sword, and be as gentle as you are strong and courteous. we will hang up the smith's tools before the altar," he said, "because, whatever the smith of the gods may have been, in the old days, we know that he worked honestly for his living and made gifts to mother church." then they went to bed again, all except the novice, and he sat up in the garth playing with his sword. then weland said to me by the stables: "farewell, old thing; you had the right of it. you saw me come to england, and you see me go. farewell!" 'with that he strode down the hill to the corner of the great woods--woods corner, you call it now--to the very place where he had first landed--and i heard him moving through the thickets towards horsebridge for a little, and then he was gone. that was how it happened. i saw it.' both children drew a long breath. 'but what happened to hugh the novice?' said una. 'and the sword?' said dan. puck looked down the meadow that lay all quiet and cool in the shadow of pook's hill. a corncrake jarred in a hay-field near by, and the small trouts of the brook began to jump. a big white moth flew unsteadily from the alders and flapped round the children's heads, and the least little haze of water-mist rose from the brook. 'do you really want to know?' puck said. 'we do,' cried the children. 'awfully!' 'very good. i promised you that you shall see what you shall see, and you shall hear what you shall hear, though it shall have happened three thousand year; but just now it seems to me that, unless you go back to the house, people will be looking for you. i'll walk with you as far as the gate.' 'will you be here when we come again?' they asked. 'surely, sure-ly,' said puck. 'i've been here some time already. one minute first, please.' he gave them each three leaves--one of oak, one of ash and one of thorn. 'bite these,' said he. 'otherwise you might be talking at home of what you've seen and heard, and--if i know human beings--they'd send for the doctor. bite!' they bit hard, and found themselves walking side by side to the lower gate. their father was leaning over it. 'and how did your play go?' he asked. 'oh, splendidly,' said dan. 'only afterwards, i think, we went to sleep. it was very hot and quiet. don't you remember, una?' una shook her head and said nothing. 'i see,' said her father. 'late--late in the evening kilmeny came home, for kilmeny had been she could not tell where, and kilmeny had seen what she could not declare. but why are you chewing leaves at your time of life, daughter? for fun?' 'no. it was for something, but i can't exactly remember,' said una. and neither of them could till-- a tree song of all the trees that grow so fair, old england to adorn, greater are none beneath the sun, than oak and ash and thorn. sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs (all of a midsummer morn)! surely we sing no little thing, in oak and ash and thorn! oak of the clay lived many a day, or ever aeneas began; ash of the loam was a lady at home, when brut was an outlaw man; thorn of the down saw new troy town (from which was london born); witness hereby the ancientry of oak and ash and thorn! yew that is old in churchyard mould, he breedeth a mighty bow; alder for shoes do wise men choose, and beech for cups also. but when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled, and your shoes are clean outworn, back ye must speed for all that ye need, to oak and ash and thorn! ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth till every gust be laid, to drop a limb on the head of him that anyway trusts her shade: but whether a lad be sober or sad, or mellow with ale from the horn, he will take no wrong when he lieth along 'neath oak and ash and thorn! oh, do not tell the priest our plight, or he would call it a sin; but--we have been out in the woods all night, a-conjuring summer in! and we bring you news by word of mouth-- good news for cattle and corn-- now is the sun come up from the south, with oak and ash and thorn! sing oak and ash and thorn, good sirs (all of a midsummer morn)! england shall bide till judgement tide, by oak and ash and thorn! young men at the manor they were fishing, a few days later, in the bed of the brook that for centuries had cut deep into the soft valley soil. the trees closing overhead made long tunnels through which the sunshine worked in blobs and patches. down in the tunnels were bars of sand and gravel, old roots and trunks covered with moss or painted red by the irony water; foxgloves growing lean and pale towards the light; clumps of fern and thirsty shy flowers who could not live away from moisture and shade. in the pools you could see the wave thrown up by the trouts as they charged hither and yon, and the pools were joined to each other--except in flood-time, when all was one brown rush--by sheets of thin broken water that poured themselves chuckling round the darkness of the next bend. this was one of the children's most secret hunting-grounds, and their particular friend, old hobden the hedger, had shown them how to use it. except for the click of a rod hitting a low willow, or a switch and tussle among the young ash leaves as a line hung up for the minute, nobody in the hot pasture could have guessed what game was going on among the trouts below the banks. 'we've got half a dozen,' said dan, after a warm, wet hour. 'i vote we go up to stone bay and try long pool.' una nodded--most of her talk was by nods--and they crept from the gloom of the tunnels towards the tiny weir that turns the brook into the mill-stream. here the banks are low and bare, and the glare of the afternoon sun on the long pool below the weir makes your eyes ache. when they were in the open they nearly fell down with astonishment. a huge grey horse, whose tail-hairs crinkled the glassy water, was drinking in the pool, and the ripples about his muzzle flashed like melted gold. on his back sat an old, white-haired man dressed in a loose glimmery gown of chain-mail. he was bare-headed, and a nut-shaped iron helmet hung at his saddle-bow. his reins were of red leather five or six inches deep, scalloped at the edges, and his high padded saddle with its red girths was held fore and aft by a red leather breastband and crupper. 'look!' said una, as though dan were not staring his very eyes out. 'it's like the picture in your room--"sir isumbras at the ford".' the rider turned towards them, and his thin, long face was just as sweet and gentle as that of the knight who carries the children in that picture. 'they should be here now, sir richard,' said puck's deep voice among the willow-herb. 'they are here,' the knight said, and he smiled at dan with the string of trouts in his hand. 'there seems no great change in boys since mine fished this water.' 'if your horse has drunk, we shall be more at ease in the ring,' said puck; and he nodded to the children as though he had never magicked away their memories a week before. the great horse turned and hoisted himself into the pasture with a kick and a scramble that tore the clods down rattling. 'your pardon!' said sir richard to dan. 'when these lands were mine, i never loved that mounted men should cross the brook except by the paved ford. but my swallow here was thirsty, and i wished to meet you.' 'we're very glad you've come, sir,'said dan.'it doesn't matter in the least about the banks.' he trotted across the pasture on the sword side of the mighty horse, and it was a mighty iron-handled sword that swung from sir richard's belt. una walked behind with puck. she remembered everything now. 'i'm sorry about the leaves,' he said, 'but it would never have done if you had gone home and told, would it?' 'i s'pose not,' una answered. 'but you said that all the fair--people of the hills had left england.' 'so they have; but i told you that you should come and go and look and know, didn't i? the knight isn't a fairy. he's sir richard dalyngridge, a very old friend of mine. he came over with william the conqueror, and he wants to see you particularly.' 'what for?' said una. 'on account of your great wisdom and learning,' puck replied, without a twinkle. 'us?' said una. 'why, i don't know my nine times--not to say it dodging, and dan makes the most awful mess of fractions. he can't mean us!' 'una!' dan called back. 'sir richard says he is going to tell what happened to weland's sword. he's got it. isn't it splendid?' 'nay--nay,' said sir richard, dismounting as they reached the ring, in the bend of the mill-stream bank. 'it is you that must tell me, for i hear the youngest child in our england today is as wise as our wisest clerk.' he slipped the bit out of swallow's mouth, dropped the ruby-red reins over his head, and the wise horse moved off to graze. sir richard (they noticed he limped a little) unslung his great sword. 'that's it,' dan whispered to una. 'this is the sword that brother hugh had from wayland-smith,' sir richard said. 'once he gave it me, but i would not take it; but at the last it became mine after such a fight as never christened man fought. see!' he half drew it from its sheath and turned it before them. on either side just below the handle, where the runic letters shivered as though they were alive, were two deep gouges in the dull, deadly steel. 'now, what thing made those?' said he. 'i know not, but you, perhaps, can say.' 'tell them all the tale, sir richard,' said puck. 'it concerns their land somewhat.' 'yes, from the very beginning,' una pleaded, for the knight's good face and the smile on it more than ever reminded her of 'sir isumbras at the ford'. they settled down to listen, sir richard bare-headed to the sunshine, dandling the sword in both hands, while the grey horse cropped outside the ring, and the helmet on the saddle-bow clinged softly each time he jerked his head. 'from the beginning, then,' sir richard said, 'since it concerns your land, i will tell the tale. when our duke came out of normandy to take his england, great knights (have ye heard?) came and strove hard to serve the duke, because he promised them lands here, and small knights followed the great ones. my folk in normandy were poor; but a great knight, engerrard of the eagle--engenulf de aquila--who was kin to my father, followed the earl of mortain, who followed william the duke, and i followed de aquila. yes, with thirty men-at-arms out of my father's house and a new sword, i set out to conquer england three days after i was made knight. i did not then know that england would conquer me. we went up to santlache with the rest--a very great host of us.' 'does that mean the battle of hastings--ten sixty-six?' una whispered, and puck nodded, so as not to interrupt. 'at santlache, over the hill yonder'--he pointed south-eastward towards fairlight--'we found harold's men. we fought. at the day's end they ran. my men went with de aquila's to chase and plunder, and in that chase engerrard of the eagle was slain, and his son gilbert took his banner and his men forward. this i did not know till after, for swallow here was cut in the flank, so i stayed to wash the wound at a brook by a thorn. there a single saxon cried out to me in french, and we fought together. i should have known his voice, but we fought together. for a long time neither had any advantage, till by pure ill-fortune his foot slipped and his sword flew from his hand. now i had but newly been made knight, and wished, above all, to be courteous and fameworthy, so i forbore to strike and bade him get his sword again. "a plague on my sword," said he. "it has lost me my first fight. you have spared my life. take my sword." he held it out to me, but as i stretched my hand the sword groaned like a stricken man, and i leaped back crying, "sorcery!"' (the children looked at the sword as though it might speak again.) 'suddenly a clump of saxons ran out upon me and, seeing a norman alone, would have killed me, but my saxon cried out that i was his prisoner, and beat them off. thus, see you, he saved my life. he put me on my horse and led me through the woods ten long miles to this valley.' 'to here, d'you mean?' said una. 'to this very valley. we came in by the lower ford under the king's hill yonder'--he pointed eastward where the valley widens. 'and was that saxon hugh the novice?' dan asked. 'yes, and more than that. he had been for three years at the monastery at bec by rouen, where'--sir richard chuckled--'the abbot herluin would not suffer me to remain.' 'why wouldn't he?' said dan. 'because i rode my horse into the refectory, when the scholars were at meat, to show the saxon boys we normans were not afraid of an abbot. it was that very saxon hugh tempted me to do it, and we had not met since that day. i thought i knew his voice even inside my helmet, and, for all that our lords fought, we each rejoiced we had not slain the other. he walked by my side, and he told me how a heathen god, as he believed, had given him his sword, but he said he had never heard it sing before. i remember i warned him to beware of sorcery and quick enchantments.' sir richard smiled to himself. 'i was very young--very young! 'when we came to his house here we had almost forgotten that we had been at blows. it was near midnight, and the great hall was full of men and women waiting news. there i first saw his sister, the lady aelueva, of whom he had spoken to us in france. she cried out fiercely at me, and would have had me hanged in that hour, but her brother said that i had spared his life--he said not how he saved mine from the saxons--and that our duke had won the day; and even while they wrangled over my poor body, of a sudden he fell down in a swoon from his wounds. "'this is thy fault," said the lady aelueva to me, and she kneeled above him and called for wine and cloths. "'if i had known," i answered, "he should have ridden and i walked. but he set me on my horse; he made no complaint; he walked beside me and spoke merrily throughout. i pray i have done him no harm." "'thou hast need to pray," she said, catching up her underlip. "if he dies, thou shalt hang." 'they bore off hugh to his chamber; but three tall men of the house bound me and set me under the beam of the great hall with a rope round my neck. the end of the rope they flung over the beam, and they sat them down by the fire to wait word whether hugh lived or died. they cracked nuts with their knife-hilts the while.' 'and how did you feel?' said dan. 'very weary; but i did heartily pray for my schoolmate hugh his health. about noon i heard horses in the valley, and the three men loosed my ropes and fled out, and de aquila's men rode up. gilbert de aquila came with them, for it was his boast that, like his father, he forgot no man that served him. he was little, like his father, but terrible, with a nose like an eagle's nose and yellow eyes like an eagle. he rode tall warhorses--roans, which he bred himself--and he could never abide to be helped into the saddle. he saw the rope hanging from the beam and laughed, and his men laughed, for i was too stiff to rise. "'this is poor entertainment for a norman knight," he said, "but, such as it is, let us be grateful. show me, boy, to whom thou owest most, and we will pay them out of hand."' 'what did he mean? to kill 'em?' said dan. 'assuredly. but i looked at the lady aelueva where she stood among her maids, and her brother beside her. de aquila's men had driven them all into the great hall.' 'was she pretty?' said una. 'in all my long life i have never seen woman fit to strew rushes before my lady aelueva,' the knight replied, quite simply and quietly. 'as i looked at her i thought i might save her and her house by a jest. "'seeing that i came somewhat hastily and without warning," said i to de aquila, "i have no fault to find with the courtesy that these saxons have shown me." but my voice shook. it is--it was not good to jest with that little man. 'all were silent awhile, till de aquila laughed. "look, men--a miracle," said he. "the fight is scarce sped, my father is not yet buried, and here we find our youngest knight already set down in his manor, while his saxons--ye can see it in their fat faces--have paid him homage and service! by the saints," he said, rubbing his nose, "i never thought england would be so easy won! surely i can do no less than give the lad what he has taken. this manor shall be thine, boy," he said, "till i come again, or till thou art slain. now, mount, men, and ride. we follow our duke into kent to make him king of england." 'he drew me with him to the door while they brought his horse--a lean roan, taller than my swallow here, but not so well girthed. "'hark to me," he said, fretting with his great war-gloves. "i have given thee this manor, which is a saxon hornets' nest, and i think thou wilt be slain in a month--as my father was slain. yet if thou canst keep the roof on the hall, the thatch on the barn, and the plough in the furrow till i come back, thou shalt hold the manor from me; for the duke has promised our earl mortain all the lands by pevensey, and mortain will give me of them what he would have given my father. god knows if thou or i shall live till england is won; but remember, boy, that here and now fighting is foolishness and"--he reached for the reins--"craft and cunning is all." "'alas, i have no cunning," said i. "'not yet," said he, hopping abroad, foot in stirrup, and poking his horse in the belly with his toe. "not yet, but i think thou hast a good teacher. farewell! hold the manor and live. lose the manor and hang," he said, and spurred out, his shield-straps squeaking behind him. 'so, children, here was i, little more than a boy, and santlache fight not two days old, left alone with my thirty men-at-arms, in a land i knew not, among a people whose tongue i could not speak, to hold down the land which i had taken from them.' 'and that was here at home?' said una. 'yes, here. see! from the upper ford, weland's ford, to the lower ford, by the belle allee, west and east it ran half a league. from the beacon of brunanburgh behind us here, south and north it ran a full league--and all the woods were full of broken men from santlache, saxon thieves, norman plunderers, robbers, and deer-stealers. a hornets' nest indeed! 'when de aquila had gone, hugh would have thanked me for saving their lives; but the lady aelueva said that i had done it only for the sake of receiving the manor. "'how could i know that de aquila would give it me?" i said. "if i had told him i had spent my night in your halter he would have burned the place twice over by now." "'if any man had put my neck in a rope," she said, "i would have seen his house burned thrice over before i would have made terms." "'but it was a woman," i said; and i laughed, and she wept and said that i mocked her in her captivity. "'lady," said i, "there is no captive in this valley except one, and he is not a saxon." 'at this she cried that i was a norman thief, who came with false, sweet words, having intended from the first to turn her out in the fields to beg her bread. into the fields! she had never seen the face of war! 'i was angry, and answered, "this much at least i can disprove, for i swear"--and on my sword-hilt i swore it in that place--"i swear i will never set foot in the great hall till the lady aelueva herself shall summon me there." 'she went away, saying nothing, and i walked out, and hugh limped after me, whistling dolorously (that is a custom of the english), and we came upon the three saxons that had bound me. they were now bound by my men-at-arms, and behind them stood some fifty stark and sullen churls of the house and the manor, waiting to see what should fall. we heard de aquila's trumpets blow thin through the woods kentward. "'shall we hang these?" said my men. "'then my churls will fight," said hugh, beneath his breath; but i bade him ask the three what mercy they hoped for. "'none," said they all. "she bade us hang thee if our master died. and we would have hanged thee. there is no more to it." 'as i stood doubting, a woman ran down from the oak wood above the king's hill yonder, and cried out that some normans were driving off the swine there. "'norman or saxon," said i, "we must beat them back, or they will rob us every day. out at them with any arms ye have!" so i loosed those three carles and we ran together, my men-at-arms and the saxons with bills and axes which they had hidden in the thatch of their huts, and hugh led them. half-way up the king's hill we found a false fellow from picardy--a sutler that sold wine in the duke's camp--with a dead knight's shield on his arm, a stolen horse under him, and some ten or twelve wastrels at his tail, all cutting and slashing at the pigs. we beat them off, and saved our pork. one hundred and seventy pigs we saved in that great battle.' sir richard laughed. 'that, then, was our first work together, and i bade hugh tell his folk that so would i deal with any man, knight or churl, norman or saxon, who stole as much as one egg from our valley. said he to me, riding home: "thou hast gone far to conquer england this evening." i answered: "england must be thine and mine, then. help me, hugh, to deal aright with these people. make them to know that if they slay me de aquila will surely send to slay them, and he will put a worse man in my place." "that may well be true," said he, and gave me his hand. "better the devil we know than the devil we know not, till we can pack you normans home." and so, too, said his saxons; and they laughed as we drove the pigs downhill. but i think some of them, even then, began not to hate me.' 'i like brother hugh,' said una, softly. 'beyond question he was the most perfect, courteous, valiant, tender, and wise knight that ever drew breath,' said sir richard, caressing the sword. 'he hung up his sword--this sword--on the wall of the great hall, because he said it was fairly mine, and never he took it down till de aquila returned, as i shall presently show. for three months his men and mine guarded the valley, till all robbers and nightwalkers learned there was nothing to get from us save hard tack and a hanging. side by side we fought against all who came--thrice a week sometimes we fought--against thieves and landless knights looking for good manors. then we were in some peace, and i made shift by hugh's help to govern the valley--for all this valley of yours was my manor--as a knight should. i kept the roof on the hall and the thatch on the barn, but ... the english are a bold people. his saxons would laugh and jest with hugh, and hugh with them, and--this was marvellous to me--if even the meanest of them said that such and such a thing was the custom of the manor, then straightway would hugh and such old men of the manor as might be near forsake everything else to debate the matter--i have seen them stop the mill with the corn half ground--and if the custom or usage were proven to be as it was said, why, that was the end of it, even though it were flat against hugh, his wish and command. wonderful!' 'aye,' said puck, breaking in for the first time. 'the custom of old england was here before your norman knights came, and it outlasted them, though they fought against it cruel.' 'not i,' said sir richard. 'i let the saxons go their stubborn way, but when my own men-at-arms, normans not six months in england, stood up and told me what was the custom of the country, then i was angry. ah, good days! ah, wonderful people! and i loved them all.' the knight lifted his arms as though he would hug the whole dear valley, and swallow, hearing the chink of his chain-mail, looked up and whinnied softly. 'at last,' he went on, 'after a year of striving and contriving and some little driving, de aquila came to the valley, alone and without warning. i saw him first at the lower ford, with a swineherd's brat on his saddle-bow. "'there is no need for thee to give any account of thy stewardship," said he. "i have it all from the child here." and he told me how the young thing had stopped his tall horse at the ford, by waving of a branch, and crying that the way was barred. "and if one bold, bare babe be enough to guard the ford in these days, thou hast done well," said he, and puffed and wiped his head. 'he pinched the child's cheek, and looked at our cattle in the flat by the river. "'both fat," said he, rubbing his nose. "this is craft and cunning such as i love. what did i tell thee when i rode away, boy?" "'hold the manor or hang," said i. i had never forgotten it. "'true. and thou hast held." he clambered from his saddle and with his sword's point cut out a turf from the bank and gave it me where i kneeled.' dan looked at una, and una looked at dan. 'that's seisin,' said puck, in a whisper. "'now thou art lawfully seised of the manor, sir richard," said he--'twas the first time he ever called me that--"thou and thy heirs for ever. this must serve till the king's clerks write out thy title on a parchment. england is all ours--if we can hold it." "'what service shall i pay?" i asked, and i remember i was proud beyond words. "'knight's fee, boy, knight's fee!" said he, hopping round his horse on one foot. (have i said he was little, and could not endure to be helped to his saddle?) "six mounted men or twelve archers thou shalt send me whenever i call for them, and--where got you that corn?" said he, for it was near harvest, and our corn stood well. "i have never seen such bright straw. send me three bags of the same seed yearly, and furthermore, in memory of our last meeting--with the rope round thy neck--entertain me and my men for two days of each year in the great hall of thy manor." "'alas!" said i, "then my manor is already forfeit. i am under vow not to enter the great hall." and i told him what i had sworn to the lady aelueva.' 'and hadn't you ever been into the house since?' said una. 'never,' sir richard answered, smiling. 'i had made me a little hut of wood up the hill, and there i did justice and slept ... de aquila wheeled aside, and his shield shook on his back. "no matter, boy," said he. "i will remit the homage for a year."' 'he meant sir richard needn't give him dinner there the first year,' puck explained. 'de aquila stayed with me in the hut, and hugh, who could read and write and cast accounts, showed him the roll of the manor, in which were written all the names of our fields and men, and he asked a thousand questions touching the land, the timber, the grazing, the mill, and the fish-ponds, and the worth of every man in the valley. but never he named the lady aelueva's name, nor went he near the great hall. by night he drank with us in the hut. yes, he sat on the straw like an eagle ruffled in her feathers, his yellow eyes rolling above the cup, and he pounced in his talk like an eagle, swooping from one thing to another, but always binding fast. yes; he would lie still awhile, and then rustle in the straw, and speak sometimes as though he were king william himself, and anon he would speak in parables and tales, and if at once we saw not his meaning he would yerk us in the ribs with his scabbarded sword. "'look you, boys," said he, "i am born out of my due time. five hundred years ago i would have made all england such an england as neither dane, saxon, nor norman should have conquered. five hundred years hence i should have been such a counsellor to kings as the world hath never dreamed of. 'tis all here," said he, tapping his big head, "but it hath no play in this black age. now hugh here is a better man than thou art, richard." he had made his voice harsh and croaking, like a raven's. "'truth," said i. "but for hugh, his help and patience and long-suffering, i could never have kept the manor." "'nor thy life either," said de aquila. "hugh has saved thee not once, but a hundred times. be still, hugh!" he said. "dost thou know, richard, why hugh slept, and why he still sleeps, among thy norman men-at-arms?" "'to be near me," said i, for i thought this was truth. "'fool!" said de aquila. "it is because his saxons have begged him to rise against thee, and to sweep every norman out of the valley. no matter how i know. it is truth. therefore hugh hath made himself an hostage for thy life, well knowing that if any harm befell thee from his saxons thy normans would slay him without remedy. and this his saxons know. is it true, hugh?" "'in some sort," said hugh shamefacedly; "at least, it was true half a year ago. my saxons would not harm richard now. i think they know him--but i judged it best to make sure." 'look, children, what that man had done--and i had never guessed it! night after night had he lain down among my men-at-arms, knowing that if one saxon had lifted knife against me, his life would have answered for mine. "'yes," said de aquila. "and he is a swordless man." he pointed to hugh's belt, for hugh had put away his sword--did i tell you?---the day after it flew from his hand at santlache. he carried only the short knife and the long-bow. "swordless and landless art thou, hugh; and they call thee kin to earl godwin." (hugh was indeed of godwin's blood.) "the manor that was thine is given to this boy and to his children for ever. sit up and beg, for he can turn thee out like a dog, hugh." 'hugh said nothing, but i heard his teeth grind, and i bade de aquila, my own overlord, hold his peace, or i would stuff his words down his throat. then de aquila laughed till the tears ran down his face. "'i warned the king," said he, "what would come of giving england to us norman thieves. here art thou, richard, less than two days confirmed in thy manor, and already thou hast risen against thy overlord. what shall we do to him, sir hugh?" "'i am a swordless man," said hugh. "do not jest with me," and he laid his head on his knees and groaned. "'the greater fool thou," said de aquila, and all his voice changed; "for i have given thee the manor of dallington up the hill this half-hour since," and he yerked at hugh with his scabbard across the straw. "'to me?" said hugh. "i am a saxon, and, except that i love richard here, i have not sworn fealty to any norman." "'in god's good time, which because of my sins i shall not live to see, there will be neither saxon nor norman in england," said de aquila. "if i know men, thou art more faithful unsworn than a score of normans i could name. take dallington, and join sir richard to fight me tomorrow, if it please thee!" "'nay," said hugh. "i am no child. where i take a gift, there i render service"; and he put his hands between de aquila's, and swore to be faithful, and, as i remember, i kissed him, and de aquila kissed us both. 'we sat afterwards outside the hut while the sun rose, and de aquila marked our churls going to their work in the fields, and talked of holy things, and how we should govern our manors in time to come, and of hunting and of horse-breeding, and of the king's wisdom and unwisdom; for he spoke to us as though we were in all sorts now his brothers. anon a churl stole up to me--he was one of the three i had not hanged a year ago--and he bellowed--which is the saxon for whispering--that the lady aelueva would speak to me at the great house. she walked abroad daily in the manor, and it was her custom to send me word whither she went, that i might set an archer or two behind and in front to guard her. very often i myself lay up in the woods and watched on her also. 'i went swiftly, and as i passed the great door it opened from within, and there stood my lady aelueva, and she said to me: "sir richard, will it please you enter your great hall?" then she wept, but we were alone.' the knight was silent for a long time, his face turned across the valley, smiling. 'oh, well done!' said una, and clapped her hands very softly. 'she was sorry, and she said so.' 'aye, she was sorry, and she said so,' said sir richard, coming back with a little start. 'very soon--but he said it was two full hours later--de aquila rode to the door, with his shield new scoured (hugh had cleansed it), and demanded entertainment, and called me a false knight, that would starve his overlord to death. then hugh cried out that no man should work in the valley that day, and our saxons blew horns, and set about feasting and drinking, and running of races, and dancing and singing; and de aquila climbed upon a horse-block and spoke to them in what he swore was good saxon, but no man understood it. at night we feasted in the great hall, and when the harpers and the singers were gone we four sat late at the high table. as i remember, it was a warm night with a full moon, and de aquila bade hugh take down his sword from the wall again, for the honour of the manor of dallington, and hugh took it gladly enough. dust lay on the hilt, for i saw him blow it off. 'she and i sat talking a little apart, and at first we thought the harpers had come back, for the great hall was filled with a rushing noise of music. de aquila leaped up; but there was only the moonlight fretty on the floor. "'hearken!" said hugh. "it is my sword," and as he belted it on the music ceased. "'over gods, forbid that i should ever belt blade like that," said de aquila. "what does it foretell?" "'the gods that made it may know. last time it spoke was at hastings, when i lost all my lands. belike it sings now that i have new lands and am a man again," said hugh. 'he loosed the blade a little and drove it back happily into the sheath, and the sword answered him low and crooningly, as--as a woman would speak to a man, her head on his shoulder. 'now that was the second time in all my life i heard this sword sing.' ... 'look!' said una. 'there's mother coming down the long slip. what will she say to sir richard? she can't help seeing him.' 'and puck can't magic us this time,' said dan. 'are you sure?' said puck; and he leaned forward and whispered to sir richard, who, smiling, bowed his head. 'but what befell the sword and my brother hugh i will tell on another time,' said he, rising. 'ohe, swallow!' the great horse cantered up from the far end of the meadow, close to mother. they heard mother say: 'children, gleason's old horse has broken into the meadow again. where did he get through?' 'just below stone bay,' said dan. 'he tore down simple flobs of the bank! we noticed it just now. and we've caught no end of fish. we've been at it all the afternoon.' and they honestly believed that they had. they never noticed the oak, ash and thorn leaves that puck had slyly thrown into their laps. sir richard's song i followed my duke ere i was a lover, to take from england fief and fee; but now this game is the other way over-- but now england hath taken me! i had my horse, my shield and banner, and a boy's heart, so whole and free; but now i sing in another manner-- but now england hath taken me! as for my father in his tower, asking news of my ship at sea; he will remember his own hour-- tell him england hath taken me! as for my mother in her bower, that rules my father so cunningly; she will remember a maiden's power-- tell her england hath taken me! as for my brother in rouen city, a nimble and naughty page is he; but he will come to suffer and pity-- tell him england hath taken me! as for my little sister waiting in the pleasant orchards of normandie; tell her youth is the time of mating-- tell her england hath taken me! as for my comrades in camp and highway, that lift their eyebrows scornfully; tell them their way is not my way-- tell them england hath taken me! kings and princes and barons famed, knights and captains in your degree; hear me a little before i am blamed-- seeing england hath taken me! howso great man's strength be reckoned, there are two things he cannot flee; love is the first, and death is the second-- and love, in england, hath taken me! the knights of the joyous venture harp song of the dane women what is a woman that you forsake her, and the hearth-fire and the home-acre, to go with the old grey widow-maker? she has no house to lay a guest in-- but one chill bed for all to rest in, that the pale suns and the stray bergs nest in. she has no strong white arms to fold you, but the ten-times-fingering weed to hold you bound on the rocks where the tide has rolled you. yet, when the signs of summer thicken, and the ice breaks, and the birch-buds quicken, yearly you turn from our side, and sicken-- sicken again for the shouts and the slaughters,-- and steal away to the lapping waters, and look at your ship in her winter quarters. you forget our mirth, and talk at the tables, the kine in the shed and the horse in the stables-- to pitch her sides and go over her cables! then you drive out where the storm-clouds swallow: and the sound of your oar-blades falling hollow is all we have left through the months to follow. ah, what is a woman that you forsake her, and the hearth-fire and the home-acre, to go with the old grey widow-maker? it was too hot to run about in the open, so dan asked their friend, old hobden, to take their own dinghy from the pond and put her on the brook at the bottom of the garden. her painted name was the daisy, but for exploring expeditions she was the golden hind or the long serpent, or some such suitable name. dan hiked and howked with a boat-hook (the brook was too narrow for sculls), and una punted with a piece of hop-pole. when they came to a very shallow place (the golden hind drew quite three inches of water) they disembarked and scuffled her over the gravel by her tow-rope, and when they reached the overgrown banks beyond the garden they pulled themselves upstream by the low branches. that day they intended to discover the north cape like 'othere, the old sea-captain', in the book of verses which una had brought with her; but on account of the heat they changed it to a voyage up the amazon and the sources of the nile. even on the shaded water the air was hot and heavy with drowsy scents, while outside, through breaks in the trees, the sunshine burned the pasture like fire. the kingfisher was asleep on his watching-branch, and the blackbirds scarcely took the trouble to dive into the next bush. dragonflies wheeling and clashing were the only things at work, except the moorhens and a big red admiral, who flapped down out of the sunshine for a drink. when they reached otter pool the golden hind grounded comfortably on a shallow, and they lay beneath a roof of close green, watching the water trickle over the flood-gates down the mossy brick chute from the mill-stream to the brook. a big trout--the children knew him well--rolled head and shoulders at some fly that sailed round the bend, while, once in just so often, the brook rose a fraction of an inch against all the wet pebbles, and they watched the slow draw and shiver of a breath of air through the tree-tops. then the little voices of the slipping water began again. 'it's like the shadows talking, isn't it?' said una. she had given up trying to read. dan lay over the bows, trailing his hands in the current. they heard feet on the gravel-bar that runs half across the pool and saw sir richard dalyngridge standing over them. 'was yours a dangerous voyage?' he asked, smiling. 'she bumped a lot, sir,' said dan. 'there's hardly any water this summer.' 'ah, the brook was deeper and wider when my children played at danish pirates. are you pirate-folk?' 'oh no. we gave up being pirates years ago,'explained una. 'we're nearly always explorers now. sailing round the world, you know.' 'round?' said sir richard. he sat him in the comfortable crotch of an old ash-root on the bank. 'how can it be round?' 'wasn't it in your books?' dan suggested. he had been doing geography at his last lesson. 'i can neither write nor read,' he replied. 'canst thou read, child?' 'yes,' said dan, 'barring the very long words.' 'wonderful! read to me, that i may hear for myself.' dan flushed, but opened the book and began--gabbling a little--at 'the discoverer of the north cape.' 'othere, the old sea-captain, who dwelt in helgoland, to king alfred, the lover of truth, brought a snow-white walrus-tooth, which he held in his brown right hand.' 'but--but--this i know! this is an old song! this i have heard sung! this is a miracle,' sir richard interrupted. 'nay, do not stop!' he leaned forward, and the shadows of the leaves slipped and slid upon his chain-mail. "'i ploughed the land with horses, but my heart was ill at ease, for the old seafaring men came to me now and then with their sagas of the seas."' his hand fell on the hilt of the great sword. 'this is truth,' he cried, 'for so did it happen to me,' and he beat time delightedly to the tramp of verse after verse. "'and now the land," said othere, "bent southward suddenly, and i followed the curving shore, and ever southward bore into a nameless sea."' 'a nameless sea!' he repeated. 'so did i--so did hugh and i.' 'where did you go? tell us,' said una. 'wait. let me hear all first.' so dan read to the poem's very end. 'good,' said the knight. 'that is othere's tale--even so i have heard the men in the dane ships sing it. not those same valiant words, but something like to them.' 'have you ever explored north?' dan shut the book. 'nay. my venture was south. farther south than any man has fared, hugh and i went down with witta and his heathen.' he jerked the tall sword forward, and leaned on it with both hands; but his eyes looked long past them. 'i thought you always lived here,' said una, timidly. 'yes; while my lady aelueva lived. but she died. she died. then, my eldest son being a man, i asked de aquila's leave that he should hold the manor while i went on some journey or pilgrimage--to forget. de aquila, whom the second william had made warden of pevensey in earl mortain's place, was very old then, but still he rode his tall, roan horses, and in the saddle he looked like a little white falcon. when hugh, at dallington, over yonder, heard what i did, he sent for my second son, whom being unmarried he had ever looked upon as his own child, and, by de aquila's leave, gave him the manor of dallington to hold till he should return. then hugh came with me.' 'when did this happen?' said dan. 'that i can answer to the very day, for as we rode with de aquila by pevensey--have i said that he was lord of pevensey and of the honour of the eagle?---to the bordeaux ship that fetched him his wines yearly out of france, a marsh man ran to us crying that he had seen a great black goat which bore on his back the body of the king, and that the goat had spoken to him. on that same day red william our king, the conqueror's son, died of a secret arrow while he hunted in a forest. "this is a cross matter," said de aquila, "to meet on the threshold of a journey. if red william be dead i may have to fight for my lands. wait a little." 'my lady being dead, i cared nothing for signs and omens, nor hugh either. we took that wine-ship to go to bordeaux; but the wind failed while we were yet in sight of pevensey, a thick mist hid us, and we drifted with the tide along the cliffs to the west. our company was, for the most part, merchants returning to france, and we were laden with wool and there were three couple of tall hunting-dogs chained to the rail. their master was a knight of artois. his name i never learned, but his shield bore gold pieces on a red ground, and he limped, much as i do, from a wound which he had got in his youth at mantes siege. he served the duke of burgundy against the moors in spain, and was returning to that war with his dogs. he sang us strange moorish songs that first night, and half persuaded us to go with him. i was on pilgrimage to forget--which is what no pilgrimage brings. i think i would have gone, but... 'look you how the life and fortune of man changes! towards morning a dane ship, rowing silently, struck against us in the mist, and while we rolled hither and yon hugh, leaning over the rail, fell outboard. i leaped after him, and we two tumbled aboard the dane, and were caught and bound ere we could rise. our own ship was swallowed up in the mist. i judge the knight of the gold pieces muzzled his dogs with his cloak, lest they should give tongue and betray the merchants, for i heard their baying suddenly stop. 'we lay bound among the benches till morning, when the danes dragged us to the high deck by the steering-place, and their captain--witta, he was called--turned us over with his foot. bracelets of gold from elbow to armpit he wore, and his red hair was long as a woman's, and came down in plaited locks on his shoulder. he was stout, with bowed legs and long arms. he spoiled us of all we had, but when he laid hand on hugh's sword and saw the runes on the blade hastily he thrust it back. yet his covetousness overcame him and he tried again and again, and the third time the sword sang loud and angrily, so that the rowers leaned on their oars to listen. here they all spoke together, screaming like gulls, and a yellow man, such as i have never seen, came to the high deck and cut our bonds. he was yellow--not from sickness, but by nature--yellow as honey, and his eyes stood endwise in his head.' 'how do you mean?' said una, her chin on her hand. 'thus,' said sir richard. he put a finger to the corner of each eye, and pushed it up till his eyes narrowed to slits. 'why, you look just like a chinaman!' cried dan. 'was the man a chinaman?' 'i know not what that may be. witta had found him half dead among ice on the shores of muscovy. we thought he was a devil. he crawled before us and brought food in a silver dish which these sea-wolves had robbed from some rich abbey, and witta with his own hands gave us wine. he spoke a little in french, a little in south saxon, and much in the northman's tongue. we asked him to set us ashore, promising to pay him better ransom than he would get price if he sold us to the moors--as once befell a knight of my acquaintance sailing from flushing. "'not by my father guthrum's head," said he. "the gods sent ye into my ship for a luck-offering." 'at this i quaked, for i knew it was still the danes' custom to sacrifice captives to their gods for fair weather. "'a plague on thy four long bones!" said hugh. "what profit canst thou make of poor old pilgrims that can neither work nor fight?" "'gods forbid i should fight against thee, poor pilgrim with the singing sword," said he. "come with us and be poor no more. thy teeth are far apart, which is a sure sign thou wilt travel and grow rich." "'what if we will not come?" said hugh. "'swim to england or france," said witta. "we are midway between the two. unless ye choose to drown yourselves no hair of your head will be harmed here aboard. we think ye bring us luck, and i myself know the runes on that sword are good." he turned and bade them hoist sail. 'hereafter all made way for us as we walked about the ship, and the ship was full of wonders.' 'what was she like?' said dan. 'long, low, and narrow, bearing one mast with a red sail, and rowed by fifteen oars a side,' the knight answered. 'at her bows was a deck under which men might lie, and at her stern another shut off by a painted door from the rowers' benches. here hugh and i slept, with witta and the yellow man, upon tapestries as soft as wool. i remember'--he laughed to himself--'when first we entered there a loud voice cried, "out swords! out swords! kill, kill!" seeing us start witta laughed, and showed us it was but a great-beaked grey bird with a red tail. he sat her on his shoulder, and she called for bread and wine hoarsely, and prayed him to kiss her. yet she was no more than a silly bird. but--ye knew this?' he looked at their smiling faces. 'we weren't laughing at you,' said una. 'that must have been a parrot. it's just what pollies do.' 'so we learned later. but here is another marvel. the yellow man, whose name was kitai, had with him a brown box. in the box was a blue bowl with red marks upon the rim, and within the bowl, hanging from a fine thread, was a piece of iron no thicker than that grass stem, and as long, maybe, as my spur, but straight. in this iron, said witta, abode an evil spirit which kitai, the yellow man, had brought by art magic out of his own country that lay three years' journey southward. the evil spirit strove day and night to return to his country, and therefore, look you, the iron needle pointed continually to the south.' 'south?' said dan suddenly, and put his hand into his pocket. 'with my own eyes i saw it. every day and all day long, though the ship rolled, though the sun and the moon and the stars were hid, this blind spirit in the iron knew whither it would go, and strained to the south. witta called it the wise iron, because it showed him his way across the unknowable seas.' again sir richard looked keenly at the children. 'how think ye? was it sorcery?' 'was it anything like this?' dan fished out his old brass pocket-compass, that generally lived with his knife and key-ring. 'the glass has got cracked, but the needle waggles all right, sir.' the knight drew a long breath of wonder. 'yes, yes! the wise iron shook and swung in just this fashion. now it is still. now it points to the south.' 'north,' said dan. 'nay, south! there is the south,'said sir richard. then they both laughed, for naturally when one end of a straight compass-needle points to the north, the other must point to the south. 'te,' said sir richard, clicking his tongue. 'there can be no sorcery if a child carries it. wherefore does it point south--or north?' 'father says that nobody knows,' said una. sir richard looked relieved. 'then it may still be magic. it was magic to us. and so we voyaged. when the wind served we hoisted sail, and lay all up along the windward rail, our shields on our backs to break the spray. when it failed, they rowed with long oars; the yellow man sat by the wise iron, and witta steered. at first i feared the great white-flowering waves, but as i saw how wisely witta led his ship among them i grew bolder. hugh liked it well from the first. my skill is not upon the water; and rocks and whirlpools such as we saw by the west isles of france, where an oar caught on a rock and broke, are much against my stomach. we sailed south across a stormy sea, where by moonlight, between clouds, we saw a flanders ship roll clean over and sink. again, though hugh laboured with witta all night, i lay under the deck with the talking bird, and cared not whether i lived or died. there is a sickness of the sea which for three days is pure death! when we next saw land witta said it was spain, and we stood out to sea. that coast was full of ships busy in the duke's war against the moors, and we feared to be hanged by the duke's men or sold into slavery by the moors. so we put into a small harbour which witta knew. at night men came down with loaded mules, and witta exchanged amber out of the north against little wedges of iron and packets of beads in earthen pots. the pots he put under the decks, and the wedges of iron he laid on the bottom of the ship after he had cast out the stones and shingle which till then had been our ballast. wine, too, he bought for lumps of sweet-smelling grey amber--a little morsel no bigger than a thumb-nail purchased a cask of wine. but i speak like a merchant.' 'no, no! tell us what you had to eat,' cried dan. 'meat dried in the sun, and dried fish and ground beans, witta took in; and corded frails of a certain sweet, soft fruit, which the moors use, which is like paste of figs, but with thin, long stones. aha! dates is the name. "'now," said witta, when the ship was loaded, "i counsel you strangers to pray to your gods, for, from here on, our road is no man's road." he and his men killed a black goat for sacrifice on the bows; and the yellow man brought out a small, smiling image of dull-green stone and burned incense before it. hugh and i commended ourselves to god, and saint barnabas, and our lady of the assumption, who was specially dear to my lady. we were not young, but i think no shame to say whenas we drove out of that secret harbour at sunrise over a still sea, we two rejoiced and sang as did the knights of old when they followed our great duke to england. yet was our leader an heathen pirate; all our proud fleet but one galley perilously overloaded; for guidance we leaned on a pagan sorcerer; and our port was beyond the world's end. witta told us that his father guthrum had once in his life rowed along the shores of africa to a land where naked men sold gold for iron and beads. there had he bought much gold, and no few elephants' teeth, and thither by help of the wise iron would witta go. witta feared nothing--except to be poor. "'my father told me," said witta, "that a great shoal runs three days' sail out from that land, and south of the shoal lies a forest which grows in the sea. south and east of the forest my father came to a place where the men hid gold in their hair; but all that country, he said, was full of devils who lived in trees, and tore folk limb from limb. how think ye?" "'gold or no gold," said hugh, fingering his sword, "it is a joyous venture. have at these devils of thine, witta!" "'venture!" said witta sourly. "i am only a poor sea-thief. i do not set my life adrift on a plank for joy, or the venture. once i beach ship again at stavanger, and feel the wife's arms round my neck, i'll seek no more ventures. a ship is heavier care than a wife or cattle." 'he leaped down among the rowers, chiding them for their little strength and their great stomachs. yet witta was a wolf in fight, and a very fox in cunning. 'we were driven south by a storm, and for three days and three nights he took the stern-oar, and threddled the longship through the sea. when it rose beyond measure he brake a pot of whale's oil upon the water, which wonderfully smoothed it, and in that anointed patch he turned her head to the wind and threw out oars at the end of a rope, to make, he said, an anchor at which we lay rolling sorely, but dry. this craft his father guthrum had shown him. he knew, too, all the leech-book of bald, who was a wise doctor, and he knew the ship-book of hlaf the woman, who robbed egypt. he knew all the care of a ship. 'after the storm we saw a mountain whose top was covered with snow and pierced the clouds. the grasses under this mountain, boiled and eaten, are a good cure for soreness of the gums and swelled ankles. we lay there eight days, till men in skins threw stones at us. when the heat increased witta spread a cloth on bent sticks above the rowers, for the wind failed between the island of the mountain and the shore of africa, which is east of it. that shore is sandy, and we rowed along it within three bowshots. here we saw whales, and fish in the shape of shields, but longer than our ship. some slept, some opened their mouths at us, and some danced on the hot waters. the water was hot to the hand, and the sky was hidden by hot, grey mists, out of which blew a fine dust that whitened our hair and beards of a morning. here, too, were fish that flew in the air like birds. they would fall on the laps of the rowers, and when we went ashore we would roast and eat them.' the knight paused to see if the children doubted him, but they only nodded and said, 'go on.' 'the yellow land lay on our left, the grey sea on our right. knight though i was, i pulled my oar amongst the rowers. i caught seaweed and dried it, and stuffed it between the pots of beads lest they should break. knighthood is for the land. at sea, look you, a man is but a spurless rider on a bridleless horse. i learned to make strong knots in ropes--yes, and to join two ropes end to end, so that even witta could scarcely see where they had been married. but hugh had tenfold more sea-cunning than i. witta gave him charge of the rowers of the left side. thorkild of borkum, a man with a broken nose, that wore a norman steel cap, had the rowers of the right, and each side rowed and sang against the other. they saw that no man was idle. truly, as hugh said, and witta would laugh at him, a ship is all more care than a manor. 'how? thus. there was water to fetch from the shore when we could find it, as well as wild fruit and grasses, and sand for scrubbing of the decks and benches to keep them sweet. also we hauled the ship out on low islands and emptied all her gear, even to the iron wedges, and burned off the weed, that had grown on her, with torches of rush, and smoked below the decks with rushes dampened in salt water, as hlaf the woman orders in her ship-book. once when we were thus stripped, and the ship lay propped on her keel, the bird cried, "out swords!" as though she saw an enemy. witta vowed he would wring her neck.' 'poor polly! did he?' said una. 'nay. she was the ship's bird. she could call all the rowers by name... those were good days--for a wifeless man--with witta and his heathen--beyond the world's end... after many weeks we came on the great shoal which stretched, as witta's father had said, far out to sea. we skirted it till we were giddy with the sight and dizzy with the sound of bars and breakers, and when we reached land again we found a naked black people dwelling among woods, who for one wedge of iron loaded us with fruits and grasses and eggs. witta scratched his head at them in sign he would buy gold. they had no gold, but they understood the sign (all the gold-traders hide their gold in their thick hair), for they pointed along the coast. they beat, too, on their chests with their clenched hands, and that, if we had known it, was an evil sign.' 'what did it mean?' said dan. 'patience. ye shall hear. we followed the coast eastward sixteen days (counting time by sword-cuts on the helm-rail) till we came to the forest in the sea. trees grew there out of mud, arched upon lean and high roots, and many muddy waterways ran allwhither into darkness, under the trees. here we lost the sun. we followed the winding channels between the trees, and where we could not row we laid hold of the crusted roots and hauled ourselves along. the water was foul, and great glittering flies tormented us. morning and evening a blue mist covered the mud, which bred fevers. four of our rowers sickened, and were bound to their benches, lest they should leap overboard and be eaten by the monsters of the mud. the yellow man lay sick beside the wise iron, rolling his head and talking in his own tongue. only the bird throve. she sat on witta's shoulder and screamed in that noisome, silent darkness. yes; i think it was the silence we most feared.' he paused to listen to the comfortable home noises of the brook. 'when we had lost count of time among those black gullies and swashes we heard, as it were, a drum beat far off, and following it we broke into a broad, brown river by a hut in a clearing among fields of pumpkins. we thanked god to see the sun again. the people of the village gave the good welcome, and witta scratched his head at them (for gold), and showed them our iron and beads. they ran to the bank--we were still in the ship--and pointed to our swords and bows, for always when near shore we lay armed. soon they fetched store of gold in bars and in dust from their huts, and some great blackened elephants' teeth. these they piled on the bank, as though to tempt us, and made signs of dealing blows in battle, and pointed up to the tree-tops, and to the forest behind. their captain or chief sorcerer then beat on his chest with his fists, and gnashed his teeth. 'said thorkild of borkum: "do they mean we must fight for all this gear?" and he half drew sword. "'nay," said hugh. "i think they ask us to league against some enemy." "'i like this not," said witta, of a sudden. "back into mid-stream." 'so we did, and sat still all, watching the black folk and the gold they piled on the bank. again we heard drums beat in the forest, and the people fled to their huts, leaving the gold unguarded. 'then hugh, at the bows, pointed without speech, and we saw a great devil come out of the forest. he shaded his brows with his hand, and moistened his pink tongue between his lips--thus.' 'a devil!' said dan, delightfully horrified. 'yea. taller than a man; covered with reddish hair. when he had well regarded our ship, he beat on his chest with his fists till it sounded like rolling drums, and came to the bank swinging all his body between his long arms, and gnashed his teeth at us. hugh loosed arrow, and pierced him through the throat. he fell roaring, and three other devils ran out of the forest and hauled him into a tall tree out of sight. anon they cast down the blood-stained arrow, and lamented together among the leaves. witta saw the gold on the bank; he was loath to leave it. "sirs," said he (no man had spoken till then), "yonder is what we have come so far and so painfully to find, laid out to our very hand. let us row in while these devils bewail themselves, and at least bear off what we may." 'bold as a wolf, cunning as a fox was witta! he set four archers on the fore-deck to shoot the devils if they should leap from the tree, which was close to the bank. he manned ten oars a side, and bade them watch his hand to row in or back out, and so coaxed he them toward the bank. but none would set foot ashore, though the gold was within ten paces. no man is hasty to his hanging! they whimpered at their oars like beaten hounds, and witta bit his fingers for rage. 'said hugh of a sudden, "hark!" at first we thought it was the buzzing of the glittering flies on the water; but it grew loud and fierce, so that all men heard.' 'what?' said dan and una. 'it was the sword.' sir richard patted the smooth hilt. 'it sang as a dane sings before battle. "i go," said hugh, and he leaped from the bows and fell among the gold. i was afraid to my four bones' marrow, but for shame's sake i followed, and thorkild of borkum leaped after me. none other came. "blame me not," cried witta behind us, "i must abide by my ship." we three had no time to blame or praise. we stooped to the gold and threw it back over our shoulders, one hand on our swords and one eye on the tree, which nigh overhung us. 'i know not how the devils leaped down, or how the fight began. i heard hugh cry: "out! out!" as though he were at santlache again; i saw thorkild's steel cap smitten off his head by a great hairy hand, and i felt an arrow from the ship whistle past my ear. they say that till witta took his sword to the rowers he could not bring his ship inshore; and each one of the four archers said afterwards that he alone had pierced the devil that fought me. i do not know. i went to it in my mail-shirt, which saved my skin. with long-sword and belt-dagger i fought for the life against a devil whose very feet were hands, and who whirled me back and forth like a dead branch. he had me by the waist, my arms to my side, when an arrow from the ship pierced him between the shoulders, and he loosened grip. i passed my sword twice through him, and he crutched himself away between his long arms, coughing and moaning. next, as i remember, i saw thorkild of borkum, bare-headed and smiling, leaping up and down before a devil that leaped and gnashed his teeth. then hugh passed, his sword shifted to his left hand, and i wondered why i had not known that hugh was a left-handed man; and thereafter i remembered nothing till i felt spray on my face, and we were in sunshine on the open sea. that was twenty days after.' 'what had happened? did hugh die?'the children asked. 'never was such a fight fought by christened man,' said sir richard. 'an arrow from the ship had saved me from my devil, and thorkild of borkum had given back before his devil, till the bowmen on the ship could shoot it all full of arrows from near by; but hugh's devil was cunning, and had kept behind trees, where no arrow could reach. body to body there, by stark strength of sword and hand, had hugh slain him, and, dying, the thing had clenched his teeth on the sword. judge what teeth they were!' sir richard turned the sword again that the children might see the two great chiselled gouges on either side of the blade. 'those same teeth met in hugh's right arm and side,' sir richard went on. 'i? oh, i had no more than a broken foot and a fever. thorkild's ear was bitten, but hugh's arm and side clean withered away. i saw him where he lay along, sucking a fruit in his left hand. his flesh was wasted off his bones, his hair was patched with white, and his hand was blue-veined like a woman's. he put his left arm round my neck and whispered, "take my sword. it has been thine since hastings, o my brother, but i can never hold hilt again." we lay there on the high deck talking of santlache, and, i think, of every day since santlache, and it came so that we both wept. i was weak, and he little more than a shadow. "'nay--nay," said witta, at the helm-rail. "gold is a good right arm to any man. look--look at the gold!" he bade thorkild show us the gold and the elephants' teeth, as though we had been children. he had brought away all the gold on the bank, and twice as much more, that the people of the village gave him for slaying the devils. they worshipped us as gods, thorkild told me: it was one of their old women healed up hugh's poor arm.' 'how much gold did you get?'asked dan. 'how can i say? where we came out with wedges of iron under the rowers' feet we returned with wedges of gold hidden beneath planks. there was dust of gold in packages where we slept and along the side, and cross-wise under the benches we lashed the blackened elephants' teeth. "'i had sooner have my right arm," said hugh, when he had seen all. "'ahai! that was my fault," said witta. "i should have taken ransom and landed you in france when first you came aboard, ten months ago." "'it is over-late now," said hugh, laughing. 'witta plucked at his long shoulder-lock. "but think!" said he. "if i had let ye go--which i swear i would never have done, for i love ye more than brothers--if i had let ye go, by now ye might have been horribly slain by some mere moor in the duke of burgundy's war, or ye might have been murdered by land-thieves, or ye might have died of the plague at an inn. think of this and do not blame me overmuch, hugh. see! i will only take a half of the gold." "'i blame thee not at all, witta," said hugh. "it was a joyous venture, and we thirty-five here have done what never men have done. if i live till england, i will build me a stout keep over dallington out of my share." "'i will buy cattle and amber and warm red cloth for the wife," said witta, "and i will hold all the land at the head of stavanger fiord. many will fight for me now. but first we must turn north, and with this honest treasure aboard i pray we meet no pirate ships." 'we did not laugh. we were careful. we were afraid lest we should lose one grain of our gold, for which we had fought devils. "'where is the sorcerer?" said i, for witta was looking at the wise iron in the box, and i could not see the yellow man. "'he has gone to his own country," said he. "he rose up in the night while we were beating out of that forest in the mud, and said that he could see it behind the trees. he leaped out on the mud, and did not answer when we called; so we called no more. he left the wise iron, which is all that i care for--and see, the spirit still points to the south." 'we were troubled for fear that the wise iron should fail us now that its yellow man had gone, and when we saw the spirit still served us we grew afraid of too strong winds, and of shoals, and of careless leaping fish, and of all the people on all the shores where we landed.' 'why?' said dan. 'because of the gold--because of our gold. gold changes men altogether. thorkild of borkum did not change. he laughed at witta for his fears, and at us for our counselling witta to furl sail when the ship pitched at all. "'better be drowned out of hand," said thorkild of borkum, "than go tied to a deck-load of yellow dust." 'he was a landless man, and had been slave to some king in the east. he would have beaten out the gold into deep bands to put round the oars, and round the prow. 'yet, though he vexed himself for the gold, witta waited upon hugh like a woman, lending him his shoulder when the ship rolled, and tying of ropes from side to side that hugh might hold by them. but for hugh, he said--and so did all his men--they would never have won the gold. i remember witta made a little, thin gold ring for our bird to swing in. 'three months we rowed and sailed and went ashore for fruits or to clean the ship. when we saw wild horsemen, riding among sand-dunes, flourishing spears, we knew we were on the moors' coast, and stood over north to spain; and a strong south-west wind bore us in ten days to a coast of high red rocks, where we heard a hunting-horn blow among the yellow gorse and knew it was england. "'now find ye pevensey yourselves," said witta. "i love not these narrow ship-filled seas." 'he set the dried, salted head of the devil, which hugh had killed, high on our prow, and all boats fled from us. yet, for our gold's sake, we were more afraid than they. we crept along the coast by night till we came to the chalk cliffs, and so east to pevensey. witta would not come ashore with us, though hugh promised him wine at dallington enough to swim in. he was on fire to see his wife, and ran into the marsh after sunset, and there he left us and our share of gold, and backed out on the same tide. he made no promise; he swore no oath; he looked for no thanks; but to hugh, an armless man, and to me, an old cripple whom he could have flung into the sea, he passed over wedge upon wedge, packet upon packet of gold and dust of gold, and only ceased when we would take no more. as he stooped from the rail to bid us farewell he stripped off his right-arm bracelets and put them all on hugh's left, and he kissed hugh on the cheek. i think when thorkild of borkum bade the rowers give way we were near weeping. it is true that witta was an heathen and a pirate; true it is he held us by force many months in his ship, but i loved that bow-legged, blue-eyed man for his great boldness, his cunning, his skill, and, beyond all, for his simplicity.' 'did he get home all right?' said dan. 'i never knew. we saw him hoist sail under the moon-track and stand away. i have prayed that he found his wife and the children.' 'and what did you do?' 'we waited on the marsh till the day. then i sat by the gold, all tied in an old sail, while hugh went to pevensey, and de aquila sent us horses.' sir richard crossed hands on his sword-hilt, and stared down stream through the soft warm shadows. 'a whole shipload of gold!' said una, looking at the little golden hind. 'but i'm glad i didn't see the devils.' 'i don't believe they were devils,'dan whispered back. 'eh?' said sir richard. 'witta's father warned him they were unquestionable devils. one must believe one's father, and not one's children. what were my devils, then?' dan flushed all over. 'i--i only thought,' he stammered; 'i've got a book called the gorilla hunters--it's a continuation of coral island, sir--and it says there that the gorillas (they're big monkeys, you know) were always chewing iron up.' 'not always,' said una. 'only twice.' they had been reading the gorilla hunters in the orchard. 'well, anyhow, they always drummed on their chests, like sir richard's did, before they went for people. and they built houses in trees, too.' 'ha!' sir richard opened his eyes. 'houses like flat nests did our devils make, where their imps lay and looked at us. i did not see them (i was sick after the fight), but witta told me, and, lo, ye know it also? wonderful! were our devils only nest-building apes? is there no sorcery left in the world?' 'i don't know,' answered dan, uncomfortably. 'i've seen a man take rabbits out of a hat, and he told us we could see how he did it, if we watched hard. and we did.' 'but we didn't,' said una, sighing. 'oh! there's puck!' the little fellow, brown and smiling, peered between two stems of an ash, nodded, and slid down the bank into the cool beside them. 'no sorcery, sir richard?' he laughed, and blew on a full dandelion head he had picked. 'they tell me that witta's wise iron was a toy. the boy carries such an iron with him. they tell me our devils were apes, called gorillas!' said sir richard, indignantly. 'that is the sorcery of books,' said puck. 'i warned thee they were wise children. all people can be wise by reading of books.' 'but are the books true?' sir richard frowned. 'i like not all this reading and writing.' 'ye-es,' said puck, holding the naked dandelion head at arm's length. 'but if we hang all fellows who write falsely, why did de aquila not begin with gilbert the clerk? he was false enough.' 'poor false gilbert. yet, in his fashion, he was bold,' said sir richard. 'what did he do?' said dan. 'he wrote,' said sir richard. 'is the tale meet for children, think you?' he looked at puck; but 'tell us! tell us!' cried dan and una together. thorkild's song there's no wind along these seas, out oars for stavanger! forward all for stavanger! so we must wake the white-ash breeze, let fall for stavanger! a long pull for stavanger! oh, hear the benches creak and strain! (a long pull for stavanger!) she thinks she smells the northland rain! (a long pull for stavanger!) she thinks she smells the northland snow, and she's as glad as we to go. she thinks she smells the northland rime, and the dear dark nights of winter-time. her very bolts are sick for shore, and we--we want it ten times more! so all you gods that love brave men, send us a three-reef gale again! send us a gale, and watch us come, with close-cropped canvas slashing home! but--there's no wind in all these seas. a long pull for stavanger! so we must wake the white-ash breeze, a long pull for stavanger! old men at pevensey 'it has naught to do with apes or devils,'sir richard went on, in an undertone. 'it concerns de aquila, than whom there was never bolder nor craftier, nor more hardy knight born. and remember he was an old, old man at that time.' 'when?' said dan. 'when we came back from sailing with witta.' 'what did you do with your gold?' said dan. 'have patience. link by link is chain-mail made. i will tell all in its place. we bore the gold to pevensey on horseback--three loads of it--and then up to the north chamber, above the great hall of pevensey castle, where de aquila lay in winter. he sat on his bed like a little white falcon, turning his head swiftly from one to the other as we told our tale. jehan the crab, an old sour man-at-arms, guarded the stairway, but de aquila bade him wait at the stair-foot, and let down both leather curtains over the door. it was jehan whom de aquila had sent to us with the horses, and only jehan had loaded the gold. when our story was told, de aquila gave us the news of england, for we were as men waked from a year-long sleep. the red king was dead--slain (ye remember?) the day we set sail--and henry, his younger brother, had made himself king of england over the head of robert of normandy. this was the very thing that the red king had done to robert when our great william died. then robert of normandy, mad, as de aquila said, at twice missing of this kingdom, had sent an army against england, which army had been well beaten back to their ships at portsmouth. a little earlier, and witta's ship would have rowed through them. "'and now," said de aquila, "half the great barons of the north and west are out against the king between salisbury and shrewsbury, and half the other half wait to see which way the game shall go. they say henry is overly english for their stomachs, because he hath married an english wife and she hath coaxed him to give back their old laws to our saxons. (better ride a horse on the bit he knows, i say!) but that is only a cloak to their falsehood." he cracked his finger on the table, where the wine was spilt, and thus he spoke: "'william crammed us norman barons full of good english acres after santlache. i had my share too," he said, and clapped hugh on the shoulder; "but i warned him--i warned him before odo rebelled--that he should have bidden the barons give up their lands and lordships in normandy if they would be english lords. now they are all but princes both in england and normandy--trencher-fed hounds, with a foot in one trough and both eyes on the other! robert of normandy has sent them word that if they do not fight for him in england he will sack and harry out their lands in normandy. therefore clare has risen, fitzosborne has risen, montgomery has risen--whom our first william made an english earl. even d'arcy is out with his men, whose father i remember--a little hedge-sparrow knight near by caen. if henry wins, the barons can still flee to normandy, where robert will welcome them. if henry loses, robert, he says, will give them more lands in england. oh, a pest--a pest on normandy, for she will be our england's curse this many a long year!" "'amen," said hugh. "but will the war come our ways, think you?" "'not from the north," said de aquila. "but the sea is always open. if the barons gain the upper hand robert will send another army into england for sure, and this time i think he will land here--where his father, the conqueror, landed. ye have brought your pigs to a pretty market! half england alight, and gold enough on the ground"--he stamped on the bars beneath the table--"to set every sword in christendom fighting." "'what is to do?" said hugh. "i have no keep at dallington; and if we buried it, whom could we trust?" "'me," said de aquila. "pevensey walls are strong. no man but jehan, who is my dog, knows what is between them." he drew a curtain by the shot-window and showed us the shaft of a well in the thickness of the wall. "'i made it for a drinking-well," he said, "but we found salt water, and it rises and falls with the tide. hark!" we heard the water whistle and blow at the bottom. "will it serve?" said he. "'needs must," said hugh. "our lives are in thy hands." so we lowered all the gold down except one small chest of it by de aquila's bed, which we kept as much for his delight in its weight and colour as for any of our needs. 'in the morning, ere we rode to our manors, he said: "i do not say farewell; because ye will return and bide here. not for love nor for sorrow, but to be with the gold. have a care," he said, laughing, "lest i use it to make myself pope. trust me not, but return!"' sir richard paused and smiled sadly. 'in seven days, then, we returned from our manors--from the manors which had been ours.' 'and were the children quite well?' said una. 'my sons were young. land and governance belong by right to young men.' sir richard was talking to himself. 'it would have broken their hearts if we had taken back our manors. they made us great welcome, but we could see--hugh and i could see--that our day was done. i was a cripple and he a one-armed man. no!' he shook his head. 'and therefore'--he raised his voice--'we rode back to pevensey.' 'i'm sorry,' said una, for the knight seemed very sorrowful. 'little maid, it all passed long ago. they were young; we were old. we let them rule the manors. "aha!" cried de aquila from his shot-window, when we dismounted. "back again to earth, old foxes?" but when we were in his chamber above the hall he puts his arms about us and says, "welcome, ghosts! welcome, poor ghosts!" thus it fell out that we were rich beyond belief, and lonely. and lonely!' 'what did you do?' said dan. 'we watched for robert of normandy,' said the knight. 'de aquila was like witta. he suffered no idleness. in fair weather we would ride along between bexlei on the one side, to cuckmere on the other--sometimes with hawk, sometimes with hound (there are stout hares both on the marsh and the downland), but always with an eye to the sea, for fear of fleets from normandy. in foul weather he would walk on the top of his tower, frowning against the rain--peering here and pointing there. it always vexed him to think how witta's ship had come and gone without his knowledge. when the wind ceased and ships anchored, to the wharf's edge he would go and, leaning on his sword among the stinking fish, would call to the mariners for their news from france. his other eye he kept landward for word of henry's war against the barons. 'many brought him news--jongleurs, harpers, pedlars, sutlers, priests and the like; and, though he was secret enough in small things, yet, if their news misliked him, then, regarding neither time nor place nor people, he would curse our king henry for a fool or a babe. i have heard him cry aloud by the fishing boats: "if i were king of england i would do thus and thus"; and when i rode out to see that the warning-beacons were laid and dry, he hath often called to me from the shot-window: "look to it, richard! do not copy our blind king, but see with thine own eyes and feel with thine own hands." i do not think he knew any sort of fear. and so we lived at pevensey, in the little chamber above the hall. 'one foul night came word that a messenger of the king waited below. we were chilled after a long riding in the fog towards bexlei, which is an easy place for ships to land. de aquila sent word the man might either eat with us or wait till we had fed. anon jehan, at the stair-head, cried that he had called for horse, and was gone. "pest on him!" said de aquila. "i have more to do than to shiver in the great hall for every gadling the king sends. left he no word?" "'none," said jehan, "except"--he had been with de aquila at santlache--"except he said that if an old dog could not learn new tricks it was time to sweep out the kennel." "'oho!" said de aquila, rubbing his nose, "to whom did he say that?" "'to his beard, chiefly, but some to his horse's flank as he was girthing up. i followed him out," said jehan the crab. "'what was his shield-mark?" "'gold horseshoes on black," said the crab. "'that is one of fulke's men," said de aquila.' puck broke in very gently, 'gold horseshoes on black is not the fulkes' shield. the fulkes' arms are--' the knight waved one hand statelily. 'thou knowest that evil man's true name,' he replied, 'but i have chosen to call him fulke because i promised him i would not tell the story of his wickedness so that any man might guess it. i have changed all the names in my tale. his children's children may be still alive.' 'true--true,' said puck, smiling softly. 'it is knightly to keep faith--even after a thousand years.' sir richard bowed a little and went on: "'gold horseshoes on black?" said de aquila. "i had heard fulke had joined the barons, but if this is true our king must be of the upper hand. no matter, all fulkes are faithless. still, i would not have sent the man away empty." "'he fed," said jehan. "gilbert the clerk fetched him meat and wine from the kitchens. he ate at gilbert's table." 'this gilbert was a clerk from battle abbey, who kept the accounts of the manor of pevensey. he was tall and pale-coloured, and carried those new-fashioned beads for counting of prayers. they were large brown nuts or seeds, and hanging from his girdle with his pen and ink-horn they clashed when he walked. his place was in the great fireplace. there was his table of accounts, and there he lay o' nights. he feared the hounds in the hall that came nosing after bones or to sleep on the warm ashes, and would slash at them with his beads--like a woman. when de aquila sat in hall to do justice, take fines, or grant lands, gilbert would so write it in the manor-roll. but it was none of his work to feed our guests, or to let them depart without his lord's knowledge. 'said de aquila, after jehan was gone down the stair: "hugh, hast thou ever told my gilbert thou canst read latin hand-of-write?" "'no," said hugh. "he is no friend to me, or to odo my hound either." "'no matter," said de aquila. "let him never know thou canst tell one letter from its fellow, and"--there he yerked us in the ribs with his scabbard--"watch him, both of ye. there be devils in africa, as i have heard, but by the saints, there be greater devils in pevensey!" and that was all he would say. 'it chanced, some small while afterwards, a norman man-at-arms would wed a saxon wench of the manor, and gilbert (we had watched him well since de aquila spoke) doubted whether her folk were free or slave. since de aquila would give them a field of good land, if she were free, the matter came up at the justice in great hall before de aquila. first the wench's father spoke; then her mother; then all together, till the hall rang and the hounds bayed. de aquila held up his hands. "write her free," he called to gilbert by the fireplace. "a' god's name write her free, before she deafens me! yes, yes," he said to the wench that was on her knees at him; "thou art cerdic's sister, and own cousin to the lady of mercia, if thou wilt be silent. in fifty years there will be neither norman nor saxon, but all english," said he, "and these are the men that do our work!" he clapped the man-at-arms that was jehan's nephew on the shoulder, and kissed the wench, and fretted with his feet among the rushes to show it was finished. (the great hall is always bitter cold.) i stood at his side; hugh was behind gilbert in the fireplace making to play with wise rough odo. he signed to de aquila, who bade gilbert measure the new field for the new couple. out then runs our gilbert between man and maid, his beads clashing at his waist, and the hall being empty, we three sit by the fire. 'said hugh, leaning down to the hearthstones, "i saw this stone move under gilbert's foot when odo snuffed at it. look!" de aquila digged in the ashes with his sword; the stone tilted; beneath it lay a parchment folden, and the writing atop was: "words spoken against the king by our lord of pevensey--the second part." 'here was set out (hugh read it us whispering) every jest de aquila had made to us touching the king; every time he had called out to me from the shot-window, and every time he had said what he would do if he were king of england. yes, day by day had his daily speech, which he never stinted, been set down by gilbert, tricked out and twisted from its true meaning, yet withal so cunningly that none could deny who knew him that de aquila had in some sort spoken those words. ye see?' dan and una nodded. 'yes,' said una gravely. 'it isn't what you say so much. it's what you mean when you say it. like calling dan a beast in fun. only grown-ups don't always understand.' "'he hath done this day by day before our very face?" said de aquila. "'nay, hour by hour," said hugh. "when de aquila spoke even now, in the hall, of saxons and normans, i saw gilbert write on a parchment, which he kept beside the manor-roll, that de aquila said soon there would be no normans left in england if his men-at-arms did their work aright." "'bones of the saints!" said de aquila. "what avail is honour or a sword against a pen? where did gilbert hide that writing? he shall eat it." "'in his breast when he ran out," said hugh. "which made me look to see where he kept his finished stuff. when odo scratched at this stone here, i saw his face change. so i was sure." "'he is bold," said de aquila. "do him justice. in his own fashion, my gilbert is bold." "'overbold," said hugh. "hearken here," and he read: "upon the feast of st agatha, our lord of pevensey, lying in his upper chamber, being clothed in his second fur gown reversed with rabbit--" "'pest on him! he is not my tire-woman!" said de aquila, and hugh and i laughed. "'reversed with rabbit, seeing a fog over the marshes, did wake sir richard dalyngridge, his drunken cup-mate" (here they laughed at me) "and said, 'peer out, old fox, for god is on the duke of normandy's side."' "'so did i. it was a black fog. robert could have landed ten thousand men, and we none the wiser. does he tell how we were out all day riding the marsh, and how i near perished in a quicksand, and coughed like a sick ewe for ten days after?" cried de aquila. "'no," said hugh. "but here is the prayer of gilbert himself to his master fulke." "'ah," said de aquila. "well i knew it was fulke. what is the price of my blood?" "'gilbert prayeth that when our lord of pevensey is stripped of his lands on this evidence which gilbert hath, with fear and pains, collected--" "'fear and pains is a true word," said de aquila, and sucked in his cheeks. "but how excellent a weapon is a pen! i must learn it." "'he prays that fulke will advance him from his present service to that honour in the church which fulke promised him. and lest fulke should forget, he has written below, 'to be sacristan of battle'." 'at this de aquila whistled. "a man who can plot against one lord can plot against another. when i am stripped of my lands fulke will whip off my gilbert's foolish head. none the less battle needs a new sacristan. they tell me the abbot henry keeps no sort of rule there." "'let the abbot wait," said hugh. "it is our heads and our lands that are in danger. this parchment is the second part of the tale. the first has gone to fulke, and so to the king, who will hold us traitors." "assuredly," said de aquila. "fulke's man took the first part that evening when gilbert fed him, and our king is so beset by his brother and his barons (small blame, too!) that he is mad with mistrust. fulke has his ear, and pours poison into it. presently the king gives him my land and yours. this is old," and he leaned back and yawned. "'and thou wilt surrender pevensey without word or blow?" said hugh. "we saxons will fight your king then. i will go warn my nephew at dallington. give me a horse!" "'give thee a toy and a rattle," said de aquila. "put back the parchment, and rake over the ashes. if fulke is given my pevensey, which is england's gate, what will he do with it? he is norman at heart, and his heart is in normandy, where he can kill peasants at his pleasure. he will open england's gate to our sleepy robert, as odo and mortain tried to do, and then there will be another landing and another santlache. therefore i cannot give up pevensey." "'good," said we two. "'ah, but wait! if my king be made, on gilbert's evidence, to mistrust me, he will send his men against me here, and while we fight, england's gate is left unguarded. who will be the first to come through thereby? even robert of normandy. therefore i cannot fight my king." he nursed his sword--thus. "'this is saying and unsaying like a norman," said hugh. "what of our manors?" "'i do not think for myself," said de aquila, "nor for our king, nor for your lands. i think for england, for whom neither king nor baron thinks. i am not norman, sir richard, nor saxon, sir hugh. english am i." "'saxon, norman or english," said hugh, "our lives are thine, however the game goes. when do we hang gilbert?" "'never," said de aquila. "who knows, he may yet be sacristan of battle, for, to do him justice, he is a good writer. dead men make dumb witnesses. wait." "'but the king may give pevensey to fulke. and our manors go with it," said i. "shall we tell our sons?" "'no. the king will not wake up a hornets' nest in the south till he has smoked out the bees in the north. he may hold me a traitor; but at least he sees i am not fighting against him; and every day that i lie still is so much gain to him while he fights the barons. if he were wise he would wait till that war were over before he made new enemies. but i think fulke will play upon him to send for me, and if i do not obey the summons, that will, to henry's mind, be proof of my treason. but mere talk, such as gilbert sends, is no proof nowadays. we barons follow the church, and, like anselm, we speak what we please. let us go about our day's dealings, and say naught to gilbert." "'then we do nothing?" said hugh. "'we wait," said de aquila. "i am old, but still i find that the most grievous work i know." 'and so we found it, but in the end de aquila was right. 'a little later in the year, armed men rode over the hill, the golden horseshoes flying behind the king's banner. said de aquila, at the window of our chamber: "how did i tell you? here comes fulke himself to spy out his new lands which our king hath promised him if he can bring proof of my treason." "'how dost thou know?" said hugh. "'because that is what i would do if i were fulke, but i should have brought more men. my roan horse to your old shoes," said he, "fulke brings me the king's summons to leave pevensey and join the war." he sucked in his cheeks and drummed on the edge of the well-shaft, where the water sounded all hollow. "'shall we go?" said i. "'go! at this time of year? stark madness," said he. "take me from pevensey to fisk and flyte through fern and forest, and in three days robert's keels would be lying on pevensey mud with ten thousand men! who would stop them--fulke?" 'the horns blew without, and anon fulke cried the king's summons at the great door, that de aquila with all men and horse should join the king's camp at salisbury. "'how did i tell you?" said de aquila. "there are twenty barons 'twixt here and salisbury could give king henry good land service, but he has been worked upon by fulke to send south and call me--me!---off the gate of england, when his enemies stand about to batter it in. see that fulke's men lie in the big south barn," said he. "give them drink, and when fulke has eaten we will drink in my chamber. the great hall is too cold for old bones." 'as soon as he was off-horse fulke went to the chapel with gilbert to give thanks for his safe coming, and when he had eaten--he was a fat man, and rolled his eyes greedily at our good roast sussex wheat-ears--we led him to the little upper chamber, whither gilbert had already gone with the manor-roll. i remember when fulke heard the tide blow and whistle in the shaft he leaped back, and his long down-turned stirrup-shoes caught in the rushes and he stumbled, so that jehan behind him found it easy to knock his head against the wall.' 'did you know it was going to happen?' said dan. 'assuredly,' said sir richard, with a sweet smile. 'i put my foot on his sword and plucked away his dagger, but he knew not whether it was day or night for awhile. he lay rolling his eyes and bubbling with his mouth, and jehan roped him like a calf. he was cased all in that newfangled armour which we call lizard-mail. not rings like my hauberk here'--sir richard tapped his chest--but little pieces of dagger-proof steel overlapping on stout leather. we stripped it off (no need to spoil good harness by wetting it), and in the neck-piece de aquila found the same folden piece of parchment which we had put back under the hearth-stone. 'at this gilbert would have run out. i laid my hand on his shoulder. it sufficed. he fell to trembling and praying on his beads. "'gilbert," said de aquila, "here be more notable sayings and doings of our lord of pevensey for thee to write down. take pen and ink-horn, gilbert. we cannot all be sacristans of battle." 'said fulke from the floor, "ye have bound a king's messenger. pevensey shall burn for this." "'maybe. i have seen it besieged once," said de aquila, "but heart up, fulke. i promise thee that thou shalt be hanged in the middle of the flames at the end of that siege, if i have to share my last loaf with thee; and that is more than odo would have done when we starved out him and mortain." 'then fulke sat up and looked long and cunningly at de aquila. "'by the saints," said he, "why didst thou not say thou wast on the duke robert's side at the first?" "'am i?" said de aquila. 'fulke laughed and said, "no man who serves king henry dare do this much to his messenger. when didst thou come over to the duke? let me up and we can smooth it out together." and he smiled and becked and winked. "'yes, we will smooth it out," said de aquila. he nodded to me, and jehan and i heaved up fulke--he was a heavy man--and lowered him into the shaft by a rope, not so as to stand on our gold, but dangling by his shoulders a little above. it was turn of ebb, and the water came to his knees. he said nothing, but shivered somewhat. 'then jehan of a sudden beat down gilbert's wrist with his sheathed dagger. "stop!" he said. "he swallows his beads." "'poison, belike," said de aquila. "it is good for men who know too much. i have carried it these thirty years. give me!" 'then gilbert wept and howled. de aquila ran the beads through his fingers. the last one--i have said they were large nuts--opened in two halves on a pin, and there was a small folded parchment within. on it was written: "the old dog goes to salisbury to be beaten. i have his kennel. come quickly. "'this is worse than poison," said de aquila very softly, and sucked in his cheeks. then gilbert grovelled in the rushes, and told us all he knew. the letter, as we guessed, was from fulke to the duke (and not the first that had passed between them); fulke had given it to gilbert in the chapel, and gilbert thought to have taken it by morning to a certain fishing boat at the wharf, which trafficked between pevensey and the french shore. gilbert was a false fellow, but he found time between his quakings and shakings to swear that the master of the boat knew nothing of the matter. "'he hath called me shaved-head," said gilbert, "and he hath thrown haddock-guts at me; but for all that, he is no traitor." "'i will have no clerk of mine mishandled or miscalled," said de aquila. "that seaman shall be whipped at his own mast. write me first a letter, and thou shalt bear it, with the order for the whipping, tomorrow to the boat." 'at this gilbert would have kissed de aquila's hand--he had not hoped to live until the morning--and when he trembled less he wrote a letter as from fulke to the duke, saying that the kennel, which signified pevensey, was shut, and that the old dog (which was de aquila) sat outside it, and, moreover, that all had been betrayed. "'write to any man that all is betrayed," said de aquila, "and even the pope himself would sleep uneasily. eh, jehan? if one told thee all was betrayed, what wouldst thou do?" "'i would run away," said jehan. "it might be true." "'well said," quoth de aquila. "write, gilbert, that montgomery, the great earl, hath made his peace with the king, and that little d'arcy, whom i hate, hath been hanged by the heels. we will give robert full measure to chew upon. write also that fulke himself is sick to death of a dropsy." "'nay!" cried fulke, hanging in the well-shaft. "drown me out of hand, but do not make a jest of me." "'jest? i?" said de aquila. "i am but fighting for life and lands with a pen, as thou hast shown me, fulke." 'then fulke groaned, for he was cold, and, "let me confess," said he. "'now, this is right neighbourly," said de aquila, leaning over the shaft. "thou hast read my sayings and doings--or at least the first part of them--and thou art minded to repay me with thy own doings and sayings. take pen and inkhorn, gilbert. here is work that will not irk thee." "'let my men go without hurt, and i will confess my treason against the king," said fulke. "'now, why has he grown so tender of his men of a sudden?" said hugh to me; for fulke had no name for mercy to his men. plunder he gave them, but pity, none. "'te! te!" said de aquila. "thy treason was all confessed long ago by gilbert. it would be enough to hang montgomery himself." "'nay; but spare my men," said fulke; and we heard him splash like a fish in a pond, for the tide was rising. "'all in good time," said de aquila. "the night is young; the wine is old; and we need only the merry tale. begin the story of thy life since when thou wast a lad at tours. tell it nimbly!" "'ye shame me to my soul," said fulke. "'then i have done what neither king nor duke could do," said de aquila. "but begin, and forget nothing." "'send thy man away," said fulke. "'that much can i do," said de aquila. 'but, remember, i am like the danes' king. i cannot turn the tide.' "'how long will it rise?" said fulke, and splashed anew. "'for three hours," said de aquila. "time to tell all thy good deeds. begin, and, gilbert,--i have heard thou art somewhat careless--do not twist his words from his true meaning." 'so--fear of death in the dark being upon him--fulke began, and gilbert, not knowing what his fate might be, wrote it word by word. i have heard many tales, but never heard i aught to match the tale of fulke his black life, as fulke told it hollowly, hanging in the shaft.' 'was it bad?' said dan, awestruck. 'beyond belief,' sir richard answered. 'none the less, there was that in it which forced even gilbert to laugh. we three laughed till we ached. at one place his teeth so chattered that we could not well hear, and we reached him down a cup of wine. then he warmed to it, and smoothly set out all his shifts, malices, and treacheries, his extreme boldnesses (he was desperate bold); his retreats, shufflings, and counterfeitings (he was also inconceivably a coward); his lack of gear and honour; his despair at their loss; his remedies, and well-coloured contrivances. yes, he waved the filthy rags of his life before us, as though they had been some proud banner. when he ceased, we saw by torches that the tide stood at the corners of his mouth, and he breathed strongly through his nose. 'we had him out, and rubbed him; we wrapped him in a cloak, and gave him wine, and we leaned and looked upon him, the while he drank. he was shivering, but shameless. 'of a sudden we heard jehan at the stairway wake, but a boy pushed past him, and stood before us, the hall-rushes in his hair, all slubbered with sleep. "my father! my father! i dreamed of treachery," he cried, and babbled thickly. "'there is no treachery here," said fulke. "go!" and the boy turned, even then not fully awake, and jehan led him by the hand to the great hall. "'thy only son!" said de aquila. "why didst thou bring the child here?" "'he is my heir. i dared not trust him to my brother," said fulke, and now he was ashamed. de aquila said nothing, but sat weighing a wine-cup in his two hands--thus. anon, fulke touched him on the knee. "'let the boy escape to normandy," said he, "and do with me at thy pleasure. yea, hang me tomorrow, with my letter to robert round my neck, but let the boy go." "'be still," said de aquila. "i think for england." 'so we waited what our lord of pevensey should devise; and the sweat ran down fulke's forehead. 'at last said de aquila: "i am too old to judge, or to trust any man. i do not covet thy lands, as thou hast coveted mine; and whether thou art any better or any worse than any other black angevin thief, it is for thy king to find out. therefore, go back to thy king, fulke." "'and thou wilt say nothing of what has passed?" said fulke. "'why should i? thy son will stay with me. if the king calls me again to leave pevensey, which i must guard against england's enemies; if the king sends his men against me for a traitor; or if i hear that the king in his bed thinks any evil of me or my two knights, thy son will be hanged from out this window, fulke."' 'but it hadn't anything to do with his son,' cried una, startled. 'how could we have hanged fulke?' said sir richard. 'we needed him to make our peace with the king. he would have betrayed half england for the boy's sake. of that we were sure.' 'i don't understand,' said una. 'but i think it was simply awful.' 'so did not fulke. he was well pleased.' 'what? because his son was going to be killed?' 'nay. because de aquila had shown him how he might save the boy's life and his own lands and honours. "i will do it," he said. "i swear i will do it. i will tell the king thou art no traitor, but the most excellent, valiant, and perfect of us all. yes, i will save thee." 'de aquila looked still into the bottom of the cup, rolling the wine-dregs to and fro. "'ay," he said. "if i had a son, i would, i think, save him. but do not by any means tell me how thou wilt go about it." "'nay, nay," said fulke, nodding his bald head wisely. "that is my secret. but rest at ease, de aquila, no hair of thy head nor rood of thy land shall be forfeited," and he smiled like one planning great good deeds. "'and henceforward," said de aquila, "i counsel thee to serve one master--not two." "'what?" said fulke. "can i work no more honest trading between the two sides these troublous times?" "'serve robert or the king--england or normandy," said de aquila. "i care not which it is, but make thy choice here and now." "'the king, then," said fulke, "for i see he is better served than robert. shall i swear it?" "'no need," said de aquila, and he laid his hand on the parchments which gilbert had written. "it shall be some part of my gilbert's penance to copy out the savoury tale of thy life, till we have made ten, twenty, an hundred, maybe, copies. how many cattle, think you, would the bishop of tours give for that tale? or thy brother? or the monks of blois? minstrels will turn it into songs which thy own saxon serfs shall sing behind their plough-stilts, and men-at-arms riding through thy norman towns. from here to rome, fulke, men will make very merry over that tale, and how fulke told it, hanging in a well, like a drowned puppy. this shall be thy punishment, if ever i find thee double-dealing with thy king any more. meantime, the parchments stay here with thy son. him i will return to thee when thou hast made my peace with the king. the parchments never." 'fulke hid his face and groaned. "'bones of the saints!" said de aquila, laughing. "the pen cuts deep. i could never have fetched that grunt out of thee with any sword." "'but so long as i do not anger thee, my tale will be secret?" said fulke. "'just so long. does that comfort thee, fulke?" said de aquila. "'what other comfort have ye left me?" he said, and of a sudden he wept hopelessly like a child, dropping his face on his knees.' 'poor fulke,' said una. 'i pitied him also,' said sir richard. "'after the spur, corn," said de aquila, and he threw fulke three wedges of gold that he had taken from our little chest by the bedplace. "'if i had known this," said fulke, catching his breath, "i would never have lifted hand against pevensey. only lack of this yellow stuff has made me so unlucky in my dealings." 'it was dawn then, and they stirred in the great hall below. we sent down fulke's mail to be scoured, and when he rode away at noon under his own and the king's banner, very splendid and stately did he show. he smoothed his long beard, and called his son to his stirrup and kissed him. de aquila rode with him as far as the new mill landward. we thought the night had been all a dream.' 'but did he make it right with the king?' dan asked. 'about your not being traitors, i mean.' sir richard smiled. 'the king sent no second summons to pevensey, nor did he ask why de aquila had not obeyed the first. yes, that was fulke's work. i know not how he did it, but it was well and swiftly done.' 'then you didn't do anything to his son?' said una. 'the boy? oh, he was an imp! he turned the keep doors out of dortoirs while we had him. he sang foul songs, learned in the barons' camps--poor fool; he set the hounds fighting in hall; he lit the rushes to drive out, as he said, the fleas; he drew his dagger on jehan, who threw him down the stairway for it; and he rode his horse through crops and among sheep. but when we had beaten him, and showed him wolf and deer, he followed us old men like a young, eager hound, and called us "uncle". his father came the summer's end to take him away, but the boy had no lust to go, because of the otter-hunting, and he stayed on till the fox-hunting. i gave him a bittern's claw to bring him good luck at shooting. an imp, if ever there was!' 'and what happened to gilbert?' said dan. 'not even a whipping. de aquila said he would sooner a clerk, however false, that knew the manor-roll than a fool, however true, that must be taught his work afresh. moreover, after that night i think gilbert loved as much as he feared de aquila. at least he would not leave us--not even when vivian, the king's clerk, would have made him sacristan of battle abbey. a false fellow, but, in his fashion, bold.' 'did robert ever land in pevensey after all?' dan went on. 'we guarded the coast too well while henry was fighting his barons; and three or four years later, when england had peace, henry crossed to normandy and showed his brother some work at tenchebrai that cured robert of fighting. many of henry's men sailed from pevensey to that war. fulke came, i remember, and we all four lay in the little chamber once again, and drank together. de aquila was right. one should not judge men. fulke was merry. yes, always merry--with a catch in his breath.' 'and what did you do afterwards?' said una. 'we talked together of times past. that is all men can do when they grow old, little maid.' the bell for tea rang faintly across the meadows. dan lay in the bows of the golden hind; una in the stern, the book of verses open in her lap, was reading from 'the slave's dream': 'again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, he saw his native land.' 'i don't know when you began that,' said dan, sleepily. on the middle thwart of the boat, beside una's sun-bonnet, lay an oak leaf, an ash leaf, and a thorn leaf, that must have dropped down from the trees above; and the brook giggled as though it had just seen some joke. the runes on weland's sword a smith makes me to betray my man in my first fight. to gather gold at the world's end i am sent. the gold i gather comes into england out of deep water. like a shining fish then it descends into deep water. it is not given for goods or gear, but for the thing. the gold i gather a king covets for an ill use. the gold i gather is drawn up out of deep water. like a shining fish then it descends into deep water. it is not given for goods or gear, but for the thing. a centurion of the thirtieth cities and thrones and powers stand in time's eye, almost as long as flowers, which daily die. but, as new buds put forth to glad new men, out of the spent and unconsidered earth the cities rise again. this season's daffodil, she never hears what change, what chance, what chill, cut down last year's: but with bold countenance, and knowledge small, esteems her seven days' continuance to be perpetual. so time that is o'er-kind to all that be, ordains us e'en as blind, as bold as she: that in our very death, and burial sure, shadow to shadow, well persuaded, saith, 'see how our works endure!' dan had come to grief over his latin, and was kept in; so una went alone to far wood. dan's big catapult and the lead bullets that hobden had made for him were hidden in an old hollow beech-stub on the west of the wood. they had named the place out of the verse in lays of ancient rome: from lordly volaterrae, where scowls the far-famed hold piled by the hands of giants for godlike kings of old. they were the 'godlike kings', and when old hobden piled some comfortable brushwood between the big wooden knees of volaterrae, they called him 'hands of giants'. una slipped through their private gap in the fence, and sat still awhile, scowling as scowlily and lordlily as she knew how; for volaterrae is an important watch-tower that juts out of far wood just as far wood juts out of the hillside. pook's hill lay below her and all the turns of the brook as it wanders out of the willingford woods, between hop-gardens, to old hobden's cottage at the forge. the sou'-west wind (there is always a wind by volaterrae) blew from the bare ridge where cherry clack windmill stands. now wind prowling through woods sounds like exciting things going to happen, and that is why on blowy days you stand up in volaterrae and shout bits of the lays to suit its noises. una took dan's catapult from its secret place, and made ready to meet lars porsena's army stealing through the wind-whitened aspens by the brook. a gust boomed up the valley, and una chanted sorrowfully: 'verbenna down to ostia hath wasted all the plain: astur hath stormed janiculum, and the stout guards are slain.' but the wind, not charging fair to the wood, started aside and shook a single oak in gleason's pasture. here it made itself all small and crouched among the grasses, waving the tips of them as a cat waves the tip of her tail before she springs. 'now welcome--welcome, sextus,' sang una, loading the catapult-- 'now welcome to thy home! why dost thou stay, and turn away? here lies the road to rome.' she fired into the face of the lull, to wake up the cowardly wind, and heard a grunt from behind a thorn in the pasture. 'oh, my winkie!' she said aloud, and that was something she had picked up from dan. 'i b'lieve i've tickled up a gleason cow.' 'you little painted beast!' a voice cried. 'i'll teach you to sling your masters!' she looked down most cautiously, and saw a young man covered with hoopy bronze armour all glowing among the late broom. but what una admired beyond all was his great bronze helmet with a red horse-tail that flicked in the wind. she could hear the long hairs rasp on his shimmery shoulder-plates. 'what does the faun mean,' he said, half aloud to himself, 'by telling me that the painted people have changed?' he caught sight of una's yellow head. 'have you seen a painted lead-slinger?' he called. 'no-o,' said una. 'but if you've seen a bullet--' 'seen?' cried the man. 'it passed within a hair's--breadth of my ear.' 'well, that was me. i'm most awfully sorry.' 'didn't the faun tell you i was coming?' he smiled. 'not if you mean puck. i thought you were a gleason cow. i--i didn't know you were a--a--what are you?' he laughed outright, showing a set of splendid teeth. his face and eyes were dark, and his eyebrows met above his big nose in one bushy black bar. 'they call me parnesius. i have been a centurion of the seventh cohort of the thirtieth legion--the ulpia victrix. did you sling that bullet?' 'i did. i was using dan's catapult,' said una. 'catapults!' said he. 'i ought to know something about them. show me!' he leaped the rough fence with a rattle of spear, shield, and armour, and hoisted himself into volaterrae as quickly as a shadow. 'a sling on a forked stick. i understand!' he cried, and pulled at the elastic. 'but what wonderful beast yields this stretching leather?' 'it's laccy--elastic. you put the bullet into that loop, and then you pull hard.' the man pulled, and hit himself square on his thumbnail. 'each to his own weapon,' he said gravely, handing it back. 'i am better with the bigger machine, little maiden. but it's a pretty toy. a wolf would laugh at it. aren't you afraid of wolves?' 'there aren't any,' said una. 'never believe it! a wolf's like a winged hat. he comes when he isn't expected. don't they hunt wolves here?' 'we don't hunt,'said una, remembering what she had heard from grown-ups. 'we preserve--pheasants. do you know them?' 'i ought to,' said the young man, smiling again, and he imitated the cry of the cock-pheasant so perfectly that a bird answered out of the wood. 'what a big painted clucking fool is a pheasant!' he said. 'just like some romans.' 'but you're a roman yourself, aren't you?' said una. 'ye-es and no. i'm one of a good few thousands who have never seen rome except in a picture. my people have lived at vectis for generations. vectis--that island west yonder that you can see from so far in clear weather.' 'do you mean the isle of wight? it lifts up just before rain, and you see it from the downs.' 'very likely. our villa's on the south edge of the island, by the broken cliffs. most of it is three hundred years old, but the cow-stables, where our first ancestor lived, must be a hundred years older. oh, quite that, because the founder of our family had his land given him by agricola at the settlement. it's not a bad little place for its size. in springtime violets grow down to the very beach. i've gathered sea-weeds for myself and violets for my mother many a time with our old nurse.' 'was your nurse a--a romaness too?' 'no, a numidian. gods be good to her! a dear, fat, brown thing with a tongue like a cowbell. she was a free woman. by the way, are you free, maiden?' 'oh, quite,' said una. 'at least, till tea-time; and in summer our governess doesn't say much if we're late.' the young man laughed again--a proper understanding laugh. 'i see,' said he. 'that accounts for your being in the wood. we hid among the cliffs.' 'did you have a governess, then?' 'did we not? a greek, too. she had a way of clutching her dress when she hunted us among the gorse-bushes that made us laugh. then she'd say she'd get us whipped. she never did, though, bless her! aglaia was a thorough sportswoman, for all her learning.' 'but what lessons did you do--when--when you were little?' 'ancient history, the classics, arithmetic and so on,'he answered. 'my sister and i were thickheads, but my two brothers (i'm the middle one) liked those things, and, of course, mother was clever enough for any six. she was nearly as tall as i am, and she looked like the new statue on the western road--the demeter of the baskets, you know. and funny! roma dea! how mother could make us laugh!' 'what at?' 'little jokes and sayings that every family has. don't you know?' 'i know we have, but i didn't know other people had them too,' said una. 'tell me about all your family, please.' 'good families are very much alike. mother would sit spinning of evenings while aglaia read in her corner, and father did accounts, and we four romped about the passages. when our noise grew too loud the pater would say, "less tumult! less tumult! have you never heard of a father's right over his children? he can slay them, my loves--slay them dead, and the gods highly approve of the action!" then mother would prim up her dear mouth over the wheel and answer: "h'm! i'm afraid there can't be much of the roman father about you!" then the pater would roll up his accounts, and say, "i'll show you!" and then--then, he'd be worse than any of us!' 'fathers can--if they like,' said una, her eyes dancing. 'didn't i say all good families are very much the same?' 'what did you do in summer?' said una. 'play about, like us?' 'yes, and we visited our friends. there are no wolves in vectis. we had many friends, and as many ponies as we wished.' 'it must have been lovely,' said una. 'i hope it lasted for ever.' 'not quite, little maid. when i was about sixteen or seventeen, the father felt gouty, and we all went to the waters.' 'what waters?' 'at aquae sulis. every one goes there. you ought to get your father to take you some day.' 'but where? i don't know,' said una. the young man looked astonished for a moment. 'aquae sulis,' he repeated. 'the best baths in britain. just as good, i'm told, as rome. all the old gluttons sit in hot water, and talk scandal and politics. and the generals come through the streets with their guards behind them; and the magistrates come in their chairs with their stiff guards behind them; and you meet fortune-tellers, and goldsmiths, and merchants, and philosophers, and feather-sellers, and ultra-roman britons, and ultra-british romans, and tame tribesmen pretending to be civilised, and jew lecturers, and--oh, everybody interesting. we young people, of course, took no interest in politics. we had not the gout. there were many of our age like us. we did not find life sad. 'but while we were enjoying ourselves without thinking, my sister met the son of a magistrate in the west--and a year afterwards she was married to him. my young brother, who was always interested in plants and roots, met the first doctor of a legion from the city of the legions, and he decided that he would be an army doctor. i do not think it is a profession for a well-born man, but then--i'm not my brother. he went to rome to study medicine, and now he's first doctor of a legion in egypt--at antinoe, i think, but i have not heard from him for some time. 'my eldest brother came across a greek philosopher, and told my father that he intended to settle down on the estate as a farmer and a philosopher. you see,'--the young man's eyes twinkled--'his philosopher was a long-haired one!' 'i thought philosophers were bald,' said una. 'not all. she was very pretty. i don't blame him. nothing could have suited me better than my eldest brother's doing this, for i was only too keen to join the army. i had always feared i should have to stay at home and look after the estate while my brother took this.' he rapped on his great glistening shield that never seemed to be in his way. 'so we were well contented--we young people--and we rode back to clausentum along the wood road very quietly. but when we reached home, aglaia, our governess, saw what had come to us. i remember her at the door, the torch over her head, watching us climb the cliff-path from the boat. "aie! aie!" she said. "children you went away. men and a woman you return!" then she kissed mother, and mother wept. thus our visit to the waters settled our fates for each of us, maiden.' he rose to his feet and listened, leaning on the shield-rim. 'i think that's dan--my brother,' said una. 'yes; and the faun is with him,'he replied, as dan with puck stumbled through the copse. 'we should have come sooner,' puck called, 'but the beauties of your native tongue, o parnesius, have enthralled this young citizen.' parnesius looked bewildered, even when una explained. 'dan said the plural of "dominus" was "dominoes", and when miss blake said it wasn't he said he supposed it was "backgammon", and so he had to write it out twice--for cheek, you know.' dan had climbed into volaterrae, hot and panting. 'i've run nearly all the way,'he gasped, 'and then puck met me. how do you do, sir?' 'i am in good health,' parnesius answered. 'see! i have tried to bend the bow of ulysses, but--' he held up his thumb. 'i'm sorry. you must have pulled off too soon,' said dan. 'but puck said you were telling una a story.' 'continue, o parnesius,' said puck, who had perched himself on a dead branch above them. 'i will be chorus. has he puzzled you much, una?' 'not a bit, except--i didn't know where ak--ak something was,' she answered. 'oh, aquae sulis. that's bath, where the buns come from. let the hero tell his own tale.' parnesius pretended to thrust his spear at puck's legs, but puck reached down, caught at the horse-tail plume, and pulled off the tall helmet. 'thanks, jester,' said parnesius, shaking his curly dark head. 'that is cooler. now hang it up for me. 'i was telling your sister how i joined the army,' he said to dan. 'did you have to pass an exam?' dan asked eagerly. 'no. i went to my father, and said i should like to enter the dacian horse (i had seen some at aquae sulis); but he said i had better begin service in a regular legion from rome. now, like many of our youngsters, i was not too fond of anything roman. the roman-born officers and magistrates looked down on us british-born as though we were barbarians. i told my father so. "'i know they do," he said; "but remember, after all, we are the people of the old stock, and our duty is to the empire." "'to which empire?" i asked. "we split the eagle before i was born." "'what thieves' talk is that?" said my father. he hated slang. "'well, sir," i said, "we've one emperor in rome, and i don't know how many emperors the outlying provinces have set up from time to time. which am i to follow?" "'gratian," said he. "at least he's a sportsman." "'he's all that," i said. "hasn't he turned himself into a raw-beef-eating scythian?" "'where did you hear of it?" said the pater. "'at aquae sulis," i said. it was perfectly true. this precious emperor gratian of ours had a bodyguard of fur-cloaked scythians, and he was so crazy about them that he dressed like them. in rome of all places in the world! it was as bad as if my own father had painted himself blue! "'no matter for the clothes," said the pater. "they are only the fringe of the trouble. it began before your time or mine. rome has forsaken her gods, and must be punished. the great war with the painted people broke out in the very year the temples of our gods were destroyed. we beat the painted people in the very year our temples were rebuilt. go back further still." he went back to the time of diocletian; and to listen to him you would have thought eternal rome herself was on the edge of destruction, just because a few people had become a little large-minded. 'i knew nothing about it. aglaia never taught us the history of our own country. she was so full of her ancient greeks. "'there is no hope for rome," said the pater, at last. "she has forsaken her gods, but if the gods forgive us here, we may save britain. to do that, we must keep the painted people back. therefore, i tell you, parnesius, as a father, that if your heart is set on service, your place is among men on the wall--and not with women among the cities."' 'what wall?' asked dan and una at once. 'father meant the one we call hadrian's wall. i'll tell you about it later. it was built long ago, across north britain, to keep out the painted people--picts, you call them. father had fought in the great pict war that lasted more than twenty years, and he knew what fighting meant. theodosius, one of our great generals, had chased the little beasts back far into the north before i was born. down at vectis, of course, we never troubled our heads about them. but when my father spoke as he did, i kissed his hand, and waited for orders. we british-born romans know what is due to our parents.' 'if i kissed my father's hand, he'd laugh,' said dan. 'customs change; but if you do not obey your father, the gods remember it. you may be quite sure of that. 'after our talk, seeing i was in earnest, the pater sent me over to clausentum to learn my foot-drill in a barrack full of foreign auxiliaries--as unwashed and unshaved a mob of mixed barbarians as ever scrubbed a breastplate. it was your stick in their stomachs and your shield in their faces to push them into any sort of formation. when i had learned my work the instructor gave me a handful--and they were a handful!---of gauls and iberians to polish up till they were sent to their stations up-country. i did my best, and one night a villa in the suburbs caught fire, and i had my handful out and at work before any of the other troops. i noticed a quiet-looking man on the lawn, leaning on a stick. he watched us passing buckets from the pond, and at last he said to me: "who are you?" "'a probationer, waiting for a command," i answered. i didn't know who he was from deucalion! "'born in britain?" he said. "'yes, if you were born in spain," i said, for he neighed his words like an iberian mule. "'and what might you call yourself when you are at home?" he said, laughing. "'that depends," i answered; "sometimes one thing and sometimes another. but now i'm busy." 'he said no more till we had saved the family gods (they were respectable householders), and then he grunted across the laurels: "listen, young sometimes-one-thing-and-sometimes-another. in future call yourself centurion of the seventh cohort of the thirtieth, the ulpia victrix. that will help me to remember you. your father and a few other people call me maximus." 'he tossed me the polished stick he was leaning on, and went away. you might have knocked me down with it!' 'who was he?' said dan. 'maximus himself, our great general! the general of britain who had been theodosius's right hand in the pict war! not only had he given me my centurion's stick direct, but three steps in a good legion as well! a new man generally begins in the tenth cohort of his legion, and works up.' 'and were you pleased?' said una. 'very. i thought maximus had chosen me for my good looks and fine style in marching, but, when i went home, the pater told me he had served under maximus in the great pict war, and had asked him to befriend me.' 'a child you were!' said puck, from above. 'i was,' said parnesius. 'don't begrudge it me, faun. afterwards--the gods know i put aside the games!' and puck nodded, brown chin on brown hand, his big eyes still. 'the night before i left we sacrificed to our ancestors--the usual little home sacrifice--but i never prayed so earnestly to all the good shades, and then i went with my father by boat to regnum, and across the chalk eastwards to anderida yonder.' 'regnum? anderida?' the children turned their faces to puck. 'regnum's chichester,' he said, pointing towards cherry clack, 'and'--he threw his arm south behind him--'anderida's pevensey.' 'pevensey again!' said dan. 'where weland landed?' 'weland and a few others,' said puck. 'pevensey isn't young--even compared to me!' 'the headquarters of the thirtieth lay at anderida in summer, but my own cohort, the seventh, was on the wall up north. maximus was inspecting auxiliaries--the abulci, i think--at anderida, and we stayed with him, for he and my father were very old friends. i was only there ten days when i was ordered to go up with thirty men to my cohort.' he laughed merrily. 'a man never forgets his first march. i was happier than any emperor when i led my handful through the north gate of the camp, and we saluted the guard and the altar of victory there.' 'how? how?' said dan and una. parnesius smiled, and stood up, flashing in his armour. 'so!' said he; and he moved slowly through the beautiful movements of the roman salute, that ends with a hollow clang of the shield coming into its place between the shoulders. 'hai!' said puck. 'that sets one thinking!' 'we went out fully armed,' said parnesius, sitting down; 'but as soon as the road entered the great forest, my men expected the pack-horses to hang their shields on. "no!" i said; "you can dress like women in anderida, but while you're with me you will carry your own weapons and armour." "'but it's hot," said one of them, "and we haven't a doctor. suppose we get sunstroke, or a fever?" "'then die," i said, "and a good riddance to rome! up shield--up spears, and tighten your foot-wear!" "'don't think yourself emperor of britain already," a fellow shouted. i knocked him over with the butt of my spear, and explained to these roman-born romans that, if there were any further trouble, we should go on with one man short. and, by the light of the sun, i meant it too! my raw gauls at clausentum had never treated me so. 'then, quietly as a cloud, maximus rode out of the fern (my father behind him), and reined up across the road. he wore the purple, as though he were already emperor; his leggings were of white buckskin laced with gold. 'my men dropped like--like partridges. 'he said nothing for some time, only looked, with his eyes puckered. then he crooked his forefinger, and my men walked--crawled, i mean--to one side. "'stand in the sun, children," he said, and they formed up on the hard road. "'what would you have done," he said to me, "if i had not been here?" "'i should have killed that man," i answered. "'kill him now," he said. "he will not move a limb." "'no," i said. "you've taken my men out of my command. i should only be your butcher if i killed him now." do you see what i meant?' parnesius turned to dan. 'yes,'said dan. 'it wouldn't have been fair, somehow.' 'that was what i thought,' said parnesius. 'but maximus frowned. "you'll never be an emperor," he said. "not even a general will you be." 'i was silent, but my father seemed pleased. "'i came here to see the last of you," he said. "'you have seen it," said maximus. "i shall never need your son any more. he will live and he will die an officer of a legion--and he might have been prefect of one of my provinces. now eat and drink with us," he said. "your men will wait till you have finished." 'my miserable thirty stood like wine-skins glistening in the hot sun, and maximus led us to where his people had set a meal. himself he mixed the wine. "'a year from now," he said, "you will remember that you have sat with the emperor of britain--and gaul." "'yes," said the pater, "you can drive two mules--gaul and britain." "'five years hence you will remember that you have drunk"--he passed me the cup and there was blue borage in it--"with the emperor of rome!" "'no; you can't drive three mules. they will tear you in pieces," said my father. "'and you on the wall, among the heather, will weep because your notion of justice was more to you than the favour of the emperor of rome." 'i sat quite still. one does not answer a general who wears the purple. "'i am not angry with you," he went on; "i owe too much to your father--" "'you owe me nothing but advice that you never took," said the pater. "'--to be unjust to any of your family. indeed, i say you may make a good tribune, but, so far as i am concerned, on the wall you will live, and on the wall you will die," said maximus. "'very like," said my father. "but we shall have the picts and their friends breaking through before long. you cannot move all troops out of britain to make you emperor, and expect the north to sit quiet." "'i follow my destiny," said maximus. "'follow it, then," said my father, pulling up a fern root; "and die as theodosius died." "'ah!" said maximus. "my old general was killed because he served the empire too well. i may be killed, but not for that reason," and he smiled a little pale grey smile that made my blood run cold. "'then i had better follow my destiny," i said, "and take my men to the wall." 'he looked at me a long time, and bowed his head slanting like a spaniard. "follow it, boy," he said. that was all. i was only too glad to get away, though i had many messages for home. i found my men standing as they had been put--they had not even shifted their feet in the dust, and off i marched, still feeling that terrific smile like an east wind up my back. i never halted them till sunset, and'--he turned about and looked at pook's hill below him--'then i halted yonder.' he pointed to the broken, bracken-covered shoulder of the forge hill behind old hobden's cottage. 'there? why, that's only the old forge--where they made iron once,' said dan. 'very good stuff it was too,' said parnesius calmly. 'we mended three shoulder-straps here and had a spear-head riveted. the forge was rented from the government by a one-eyed smith from carthage. i remember we called him cyclops. he sold me a beaver-skin rug for my sister's room.' 'but it couldn't have been here,' dan insisted. 'but it was! from the altar of victory at anderida to the first forge in the forest here is twelve miles seven hundred paces. it is all in the road book. a man doesn't forget his first march. i think i could tell you every station between this and--! he leaned forward, but his eye was caught by the setting sun. it had come down to the top of cherry clack hill, and the light poured in between the tree trunks so that you could see red and gold and black deep into the heart of far wood; and parnesius in his armour shone as though he had been afire. 'wait!' he said, lifting a hand, and the sunlight jinked on his glass bracelet. 'wait! i pray to mithras!' he rose and stretched his arms westward, with deep, splendid-sounding words. then puck began to sing too, in a voice like bells tolling, and as he sang he slipped from volaterrae to the ground, and beckoned the children to follow. they obeyed; it seemed as though the voices were pushing them along; and through the goldy-brown light on the beech leaves they walked, while puck between them chanted something like this: 'cur mundus militat sub vana gloria cujus prosperitas est transitoria? tam cito labitur ejus potentia quam vasa figuli quae sunt fragilia.' they found themselves at the little locked gates of the wood. 'quo caesar abiit celsus imperio? vel dives splendidus totus in prandio? dic ubi tullius--' still singing, he took dan's hand and wheeled him round to face una as she came out of the gate. it shut behind her, at the same time as puck threw the memory-magicking oak, ash and thorn leaves over their heads. 'well, you are jolly late,' said una. 'couldn't you get away before?' 'i did,' said dan. 'i got away in lots of time, but--but i didn't know it was so late. where've you been?' 'in volaterrae--waiting for you.' 'sorry,' said dan. 'it was all that beastly latin.' a british-roman song (a.d. ) my father's father saw it not, and i, belike, shall never come to look on that so-holy spot-- the very rome-- crowned by all time, all art, all might, the equal work of gods and man, city beneath whose oldest height-- the race began! soon to send forth again a brood, unshakeable, we pray, that clings to rome's thrice-hammered hardihood-- in arduous things. strong heart with triple armour bound, beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs, age after age, the empire round-- in us thy sons, who, distant from the seven hills, loving and serving much, require thee--thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills the imperial fire! on the great wall 'when i left rome for lalage's sake by the legions' road to rimini, she vowed her heart was mine to take with me and my shield to rimini-- (till the eagles flew from rimini!) and i've tramped britain, and i've tramped gaul, and the pontic shore where the snow-flakes fall as white as the neck of lalage-- (as cold as the heart of lalage!) and i've lost britain, and i've lost gaul,' (the voice seemed very cheerful about it), 'and i've lost rome, and, worst of all, i've lost lalage!' they were standing by the gate to far wood when they heard this song. without a word they hurried to their private gap and wriggled through the hedge almost atop of a jay that was feeding from puck's hand. 'gently!' said puck. 'what are you looking for?' 'parnesius, of course,' dan answered. 'we've only just remembered yesterday. it isn't fair.' puck chuckled as he rose. 'i'm sorry, but children who spend the afternoon with me and a roman centurion need a little settling dose of magic before they go to tea with their governess. ohe, parnesius!' he called. 'here, faun!' came the answer from volaterrae. they could see the shimmer of bronze armour in the beech-crotch, and the friendly flash of the great shield uplifted. 'i have driven out the britons.' parnesius laughed like a boy. 'i occupy their high forts. but rome is merciful! you may come up.'and up they three all scrambled. 'what was the song you were singing just now?' said una, as soon as she had settled herself. 'that? oh, rimini. it's one of the tunes that are always being born somewhere in the empire. they run like a pestilence for six months or a year, till another one pleases the legions, and then they march to that.' 'tell them about the marching, parnesius. few people nowadays walk from end to end of this country,' said puck. 'the greater their loss. i know nothing better than the long march when your feet are hardened. you begin after the mists have risen, and you end, perhaps, an hour after sundown.' 'and what do you have to eat?' dan asked promptly. 'fat bacon, beans, and bread, and whatever wine happens to be in the rest-houses. but soldiers are born grumblers. their very first day out, my men complained of our water-ground british corn. they said it wasn't so filling as the rough stuff that is ground in the roman ox-mills. however, they had to fetch and eat it.' 'fetch it? where from?' said una. 'from that newly invented water-mill below the forge.' 'that's forge mill--our mill!' una looked at puck. 'yes; yours,' puck put in. 'how old did you think it was?' 'i don't know. didn't sir richard dalyngridge talk about it?' 'he did, and it was old in his day,' puck answered. 'hundreds of years old.' 'it was new in mine,' said parnesius. 'my men looked at the flour in their helmets as though it had been a nest of adders. they did it to try my patience. but i--addressed them, and we became friends. to tell the truth, they taught me the roman step. you see, i'd only served with quick-marching auxiliaries. a legion's pace is altogether different. it is a long, slow stride, that never varies from sunrise to sunset. "rome's race--rome's pace," as the proverb says. twenty-four miles in eight hours, neither more nor less. head and spear up, shield on your back, cuirass-collar open one handsbreadth--and that's how you take the eagles through britain.' 'and did you meet any adventures?' said dan. 'there are no adventures south the wall,' said parnesius. 'the worst thing that happened me was having to appear before a magistrate up north, where a wandering philosopher had jeered at the eagles. i was able to show that the old man had deliberately blocked our road; and the magistrate told him, out of his own book, i believe, that, whatever his gods might be, he should pay proper respect to caesar.' 'what did you do?' said dan. 'went on. why should i care for such things, my business being to reach my station? it took me twenty days. 'of course, the farther north you go the emptier are the roads. at last you fetch clear of the forests and climb bare hills, where wolves howl in the ruins of our cities that have been. no more pretty girls; no more jolly magistrates who knew your father when he was young, and invite you to stay with them; no news at the temples and way-stations except bad news of wild beasts. there's where you meet hunters, and trappers for the circuses, prodding along chained bears and muzzled wolves. your pony shies at them, and your men laugh. 'the houses change from gardened villas to shut forts with watch-towers of grey stone, and great stone-walled sheepfolds, guarded by armed britons of the north shore. in the naked hills beyond the naked houses, where the shadows of the clouds play like cavalry charging, you see puffs of black smoke from the mines. the hard road goes on and on--and the wind sings through your helmet-plume--past altars to legions and generals forgotten, and broken statues of gods and heroes, and thousands of graves where the mountain foxes and hares peep at you. red-hot in summer, freezing in winter, is that big, purple heather country of broken stone. 'just when you think you are at the world's end, you see a smoke from east to west as far as the eye can turn, and then, under it, also as far as the eye can stretch, houses and temples, shops and theatres, barracks and granaries, trickling along like dice behind--always behind--one long, low, rising and falling, and hiding and showing line of towers. and that is the wall!' 'ah!' said the children, taking breath. 'you may well,' said parnesius. 'old men who have followed the eagles since boyhood say nothing in the empire is more wonderful than first sight of the wall!' 'is it just a wall? like the one round the kitchen-garden?' said dan. 'no, no! it is the wall. along the top are towers with guard-houses, small towers, between. even on the narrowest part of it three men with shields can walk abreast, from guard-house to guard-house. a little curtain wall, no higher than a man's neck, runs along the top of the thick wall, so that from a distance you see the helmets of the sentries sliding back and forth like beads. thirty feet high is the wall, and on the picts' side, the north, is a ditch, strewn with blades of old swords and spear-heads set in wood, and tyres of wheels joined by chains. the little people come there to steal iron for their arrow-heads. 'but the wall itself is not more wonderful than the town behind it. long ago there were great ramparts and ditches on the south side, and no one was allowed to build there. now the ramparts are partly pulled down and built over, from end to end of the wall; making a thin town eighty miles long. think of it! one roaring, rioting, cock-fighting, wolf-baiting, horse-racing town, from ituna on the west to segedunum on the cold eastern beach! on one side heather, woods and ruins where picts hide, and on the other, a vast town--long like a snake, and wicked like a snake. yes, a snake basking beside a warm wall! 'my cohort, i was told, lay at hunno, where the great north road runs through the wall into the province of valentia.'parnesius laughed scornfully. 'the province of valentia! we followed the road, therefore, into hunno town, and stood astonished. the place was a fair--a fair of peoples from every corner of the empire. some were racing horses: some sat in wine-shops: some watched dogs baiting bears, and many gathered in a ditch to see cocks fight. a boy not much older than myself, but i could see he was an officer, reined up before me and asked what i wanted. "'my station," i said, and showed him my shield.' parnesius held up his broad shield with its three x's like letters on a beer-cask. "'lucky omen!" said he. "your cohort's the next tower to us, but they're all at the cock-fight. this is a happy place. come and wet the eagles." he meant to offer me a drink. "'when i've handed over my men," i said. i felt angry and ashamed. "'oh, you'll soon outgrow that sort of nonsense," he answered. "but don't let me interfere with your hopes. go on to the statue of roma dea. you can't miss it. the main road into valentia!" and he laughed and rode off. i could see the statue not a quarter of a mile away, and there i went. at some time or other the great north road ran under it into valentia; but the far end had been blocked up because of the picts, and on the plaster a man had scratched, "finish!" it was like marching into a cave. we grounded spears together, my little thirty, and it echoed in the barrel of the arch, but none came. there was a door at one side painted with our number. we prowled in, and i found a cook asleep, and ordered him to give us food. then i climbed to the top of the wall, and looked out over the pict country, and i--thought,' said parnesius. 'the bricked-up arch with "finish!" on the plaster was what shook me, for i was not much more than a boy.' 'what a shame!'said una. 'but did you feel happy after you'd had a good--'dan stopped her with a nudge. 'happy?' said parnesius. 'when the men of the cohort i was to command came back unhelmeted from the cock-fight, their birds under their arms, and asked me who i was? no, i was not happy; but i made my new cohort unhappy too... i wrote my mother i was happy, but, oh, my friends'--he stretched arms over bare knees--'i would not wish my worst enemy to suffer as i suffered through my first months on the wall. remember this: among the officers was scarcely one, except myself (and i thought i had lost the favour of maximus, my general), scarcely one who had not done something of wrong or folly. either he had killed a man, or taken money, or insulted the magistrates, or blasphemed the gods, and so had been sent to the wall as a hiding-place from shame or fear. and the men were as the officers. remember, also, that the wall was manned by every breed and race in the empire. no two towers spoke the same tongue, or worshipped the same gods. in one thing only we were all equal. no matter what arms we had used before we came to the wall, on the wall we were all archers, like the scythians. the pict cannot run away from the arrow, or crawl under it. he is a bowman himself. he knows!' 'i suppose you were fighting picts all the time,' said dan. 'picts seldom fight. i never saw a fighting pict for half a year. the tame picts told us they had all gone north.' 'what is a tame pict?' said dan. 'a pict--there were many such--who speaks a few words of our tongue, and slips across the wall to sell ponies and wolf-hounds. without a horse and a dog, and a friend, man would perish. the gods gave me all three, and there is no gift like friendship. remember this'--parnesius turned to dan--'when you become a young man. for your fate will turn on the first true friend you make.' 'he means,' said puck, grinning, 'that if you try to make yourself a decent chap when you're young, you'll make rather decent friends when you grow up. if you're a beast, you'll have beastly friends. listen to the pious parnesius on friendship!' 'i am not pious,'parnesius answered, 'but i know what goodness means; and my friend, though he was without hope, was ten thousand times better than i. stop laughing, faun!' 'oh, youth eternal and all-believing,' cried puck, as he rocked on the branch above. 'tell them about your pertinax.' 'he was that friend the gods sent me--the boy who spoke to me when i first came. little older than myself, commanding the augusta victoria cohort on the tower next to us and the numidians. in virtue he was far my superior.' 'then why was he on the wall?' una asked, quickly. 'they'd all done something bad. you said so yourself.' 'he was the nephew, his father had died, of a great rich man in gaul who was not always kind to his mother. when pertinax grew up, he discovered this, and so his uncle shipped him off, by trickery and force, to the wall. we came to know each other at a ceremony in our temple in the dark. it was the bull-killing,'parnesius explained to puck. 'i see, said puck, and turned to the children. 'that's something you wouldn't quite understand. parnesius means he met pertinax in church.' 'yes--in the cave we first met, and we were both raised to the degree of gryphons together.' parnesius lifted his hand towards his neck for an instant. 'he had been on the wall two years, and knew the picts well. he taught me first how to take heather.' 'what's that?' said dan. 'going out hunting in the pict country with a tame pict. you are quite safe so long as you are his guest, and wear a sprig of heather where it can be seen. if you went alone you would surely be killed, if you were not smothered first in the bogs. only the picts know their way about those black and hidden bogs. old allo, the one-eyed, withered little pict from whom we bought our ponies, was our special friend. at first we went only to escape from the terrible town, and to talk together about our homes. then he showed us how to hunt wolves and those great red deer with horns like jewish candlesticks. the roman-born officers rather looked down on us for doing this, but we preferred the heather to their amusements. believe me,' parnesius turned again to dan, 'a boy is safe from all things that really harm when he is astride a pony or after a deer. do you remember, o faun,'--he turned to puck--'the little altar i built to the sylvan pan by the pine-forest beyond the brook?' 'which? the stone one with the line from xenophon?' said puck, in quite a new voice. 'no! what do i know of xenophon? that was pertinax--after he had shot his first mountain-hare with an arrow--by chance! mine i made of round pebbles, in memory of my first bear. it took me one happy day to build.' parnesius faced the children quickly. 'and that was how we lived on the wall for two years--a little scuffling with the picts, and a great deal of hunting with old allo in the pict country. he called us his children sometimes, and we were fond of him and his barbarians, though we never let them paint us pict-fashion. the marks endure till you die.' 'how's it done?' said dan. 'anything like tattooing?' 'they prick the skin till the blood runs, and rub in coloured juices. allo was painted blue, green, and red from his forehead to his ankles. he said it was part of his religion. he told us about his religion (pertinax was always interested in such things), and as we came to know him well, he told us what was happening in britain behind the wall. many things took place behind us in those days. and by the light of the sun,' said parnesius, earnestly, 'there was not much that those little people did not know! he told me when maximus crossed over to gaul, after he had made himself emperor of britain, and what troops and emigrants he had taken with him. we did not get the news on the wall till fifteen days later. he told me what troops maximus was taking out of britain every month to help him to conquer gaul; and i always found the numbers were as he said. wonderful! and i tell another strange thing!' he joined his hands across his knees, and leaned his head on the curve of the shield behind him. 'late in the summer, when the first frosts begin and the picts kill their bees, we three rode out after wolf with some new hounds. rutilianus, our general, had given us ten days' leave, and we had pushed beyond the second wall--beyond the province of valentia--into the higher hills, where there are not even any of old rome's ruins. we killed a she-wolf before noon, and while allo was skinning her he looked up and said to me, "when you are captain of the wall, my child, you won't be able to do this any more!" 'i might as well have been made prefect of lower gaul, so i laughed and said, "wait till i am captain." "'no, don't wait," said allo. "take my advice and go home--both of you." "'we have no homes," said pertinax. "you know that as well as we do. we're finished men--thumbs down against both of us. only men without hope would risk their necks on your ponies." the old man laughed one of those short pict laughs--like a fox barking on a frosty night. "i'm fond of you two," he said. "besides, i've taught you what little you know about hunting. take my advice and go home." "'we can't," i said. "i'm out of favour with my general, for one thing; and for another, pertinax has an uncle." "'i don't know about his uncle," said allo, "but the trouble with you, parnesius, is that your general thinks well of you." "'roma dea!" said pertinax, sitting up. "what can you guess what maximus thinks, you old horse-coper?" 'just then (you know how near the brutes creep when one is eating?) a great dog-wolf jumped out behind us, and away our rested hounds tore after him, with us at their tails. he ran us far out of any country we'd ever heard of, straight as an arrow till sunset, towards the sunset. we came at last to long capes stretching into winding waters, and on a grey beach below us we saw ships drawn up. forty-seven we counted--not roman galleys but the raven-winged ships from the north where rome does not rule. men moved in the ships, and the sun flashed on their helmets--winged helmets of the red-haired men from the north where rome does not rule. we watched, and we counted, and we wondered, for though we had heard rumours concerning these winged hats, as the picts called them, never before had we looked upon them. "'come away! come away!" said allo. "my heather won't protect you here. we shall all be killed!" his legs trembled like his voice. back we went--back across the heather under the moon, till it was nearly morning, and our poor beasts stumbled on some ruins. 'when we woke, very stiff and cold, allo was mixing the meal and water. one does not light fires in the pict country except near a village. the little men are always signalling to each other with smokes, and a strange smoke brings them out buzzing like bees. they can sting, too! "'what we saw last night was a trading-station," said allo. "nothing but a trading-station." "'i do not like lies on an empty stomach," said pertinax. "i suppose" (he had eyes like an eagle's)--"i suppose that is a trading-station also?" he pointed to a smoke far off on a hill-top, ascending in what we call the picts' call:---puff--double-puff: double-puff--puff! they make it by raising and dropping a wet hide on a fire. "'no," said allo, pushing the platter back into the bag. "that is for you and me. your fate is fixed. come." 'we came. when one takes heather, one must obey one's pict--but that wretched smoke was twenty miles distant, well over on the east coast, and the day was as hot as a bath. "'whatever happens," said allo, while our ponies grunted along, "i want you to remember me." "'i shall not forget," said pertinax. "you have cheated me out of my breakfast." "what is a handful of crushed oats to a roman?" he said. then he laughed his laugh that was not a laugh. "what would you do if you were a handful of oats being crushed between the upper and lower stones of a mill?" "'i'm pertinax, not a riddle-guesser," said pertinax. "'you're a fool," said allo. "your gods and my gods are threatened by strange gods, and all you can do is to laugh." "'threatened men live long," i said. "'i pray the gods that may be true," he said. "but i ask you again not to forget me." 'we climbed the last hot hill and looked out on the eastern sea, three or four miles off. there was a small sailing-galley of the north gaul pattern at anchor, her landing-plank down and her sail half up; and below us, alone in a hollow, holding his pony, sat maximus, emperor of britain! he was dressed like a hunter, and he leaned on his little stick; but i knew that back as far as i could see it, and i told pertinax. "'you're madder than allo!" he said. "it must be the sun!" 'maximus never stirred till we stood before him. then he looked me up and down, and said: "hungry again? it seems to be my destiny to feed you whenever we meet. i have food here. allo shall cook it." "'no," said allo. "a prince in his own land does not wait on wandering emperors. i feed my two children without asking your leave." he began to blow up the ashes. "'i was wrong," said pertinax. "we are all mad. speak up, o madman called emperor!" 'maximus smiled his terrible tight-lipped smile, but two years on the wall do not make a man afraid of mere looks. so i was not afraid. "'i meant you, parnesius, to live and die a centurion of the wall," said maximus. "but it seems from these,"--he fumbled in his breast--"you can think as well as draw." he pulled out a roll of letters i had written to my people, full of drawings of picts, and bears, and men i had met on the wall. mother and my sister always liked my pictures. 'he handed me one that i had called "maximus's soldiers". it showed a row of fat wine-skins, and our old doctor of the hunno hospital snuffing at them. each time that maximus had taken troops out of britain to help him to conquer gaul, he used to send the garrisons more wine--to keep them quiet, i suppose. on the wall, we always called a wine-skin a "maximus". oh, yes; and i had drawn them in imperial helmets. "'not long since," he went on, "men's names were sent up to caesar for smaller jokes than this." "'true, caesar," said pertinax; "but you forget that was before i, your friend's friend, became such a good spear-thrower." 'he did not actually point his hunting-spear at maximus, but balanced it on his palm--so! "'i was speaking of time past," said maximus, never fluttering an eyelid. "nowadays one is only too pleased to find boys who can think for themselves, and their friends." he nodded at pertinax. "your father lent me the letters, parnesius, so you run no risk from me." "'none whatever," said pertinax, and rubbed the spear-point on his sleeve. "'i have been forced to reduce the garrisons in britain, because i need troops in gaul. now i come to take troops from the wall itself," said he. "'i wish you joy of us," said pertinax. "we're the last sweepings of the empire--the men without hope. myself, i'd sooner trust condemned criminals." "'you think so?" he said, quite seriously. "but it will only be till i win gaul. one must always risk one's life, or one's soul, or one's peace--or some little thing." 'allo passed round the fire with the sizzling deer's meat. he served us two first. "'ah!" said maximus, waiting his turn. "i perceive you are in your own country. well, you deserve it. they tell me you have quite a following among the picts, parnesius." "'i have hunted with them," i said. "maybe i have a few friends among the heather." "'he is the only armoured man of you all who understands us," said allo, and he began a long speech about our virtues, and how we had saved one of his grandchildren from a wolf the year before.' 'had you?' said una. 'yes; but that was neither here nor there. the little green man orated like a--like cicero. he made us out to be magnificent fellows. maximus never took his eyes off our faces. "'enough," he said. "i have heard allo on you. i wish to hear you on the picts." 'i told him as much as i knew, and pertinax helped me out. there is never harm in a pict if you but take the trouble to find out what he wants. their real grievance against us came from our burning their heather. the whole garrison of the wall moved out twice a year, and solemnly burned the heather for ten miles north. rutilianus, our general, called it clearing the country. the picts, of course, scampered away, and all we did was to destroy their bee-bloom in the summer, and ruin their sheep-food in the spring. "'true, quite true," said allo. "how can we make our holy heather-wine, if you burn our bee-pasture?" 'we talked long, maximus asking keen questions that showed he knew much and had thought more about the picts. he said presently to me: "if i gave you the old province of valentia to govern, could you keep the picts contented till i won gaul? stand away, so that you do not see allo's face; and speak your own thoughts." "'no," i said. "you cannot remake that province. the picts have been free too long." "'leave them their village councils, and let them furnish their own soldiers," he said. "you, i am sure, would hold the reins very lightly." "even then, no," i said. "at least not now. they have been too oppressed by us to trust anything with a roman name for years and years." 'i heard old allo behind me mutter: "good child!" "'then what do you recommend," said maximus, "to keep the north quiet till i win gaul?" "'leave the picts alone," i said. "stop the heather-burning at once, and--they are improvident little animals--send them a shipload or two of corn now and then." "'their own men must distribute it--not some cheating greek accountant," said pertinax. "'yes, and allow them to come to our hospitals when they are sick," i said. "'surely they would die first," said maximus. "'not if parnesius brought them in," said allo. "i could show you twenty wolf-bitten, bear-clawed picts within twenty miles of here. but parnesius must stay with them in hospital, else they would go mad with fear." "'i see," said maximus. "like everything else in the world, it is one man's work. you, i think, are that one man." "'pertinax and i are one," i said. "'as you please, so long as you work. now, allo, you know that i mean your people no harm. leave us to talk together," said maximus. "'no need!" said allo. "i am the corn between the upper and lower millstones. i must know what the lower millstone means to do. these boys have spoken the truth as far as they know it. i, a prince, will tell you the rest. i am troubled about the men of the north." he squatted like a hare in the heather, and looked over his shoulder. "'i also," said maximus, "or i should not be here." "'listen," said allo. "long and long ago the winged hats"--he meant the northmen--"came to our beaches and said, 'rome falls! push her down!' we fought you. you sent men. we were beaten. after that we said to the winged hats, 'you are liars! make our men alive that rome killed, and we will believe you.' they went away ashamed. now they come back bold, and they tell the old tale, which we begin to believe--that rome falls!" "'give me three years' peace on the wall," cried maximus, "and i will show you and all the ravens how they lie!" "'ah, i wish it too! i wish to save what is left of the corn from the millstones. but you shoot us picts when we come to borrow a little iron from the iron ditch; you burn our heather, which is all our crop; you trouble us with your great catapults. then you hide behind the wall, and scorch us with greek fire. how can i keep my young men from listening to the winged hats--in winter especially, when we are hungry? my young men will say, 'rome can neither fight nor rule. she is taking her men out of britain. the winged hats will help us to push down the wall. let us show them the secret roads across the bogs.' do i want that? no!" he spat like an adder. "i would keep the secrets of my people though i were burned alive. my two children here have spoken truth. leave us picts alone. comfort us, and cherish us, and feed us from far off--with the hand behind the back. parnesius understands us. let him have rule on the wall, and i will hold my young men quiet for"--he ticked it off on his fingers--"one year easily: the next year not so easily: the third year, perhaps! see, i give you three years. if then you do not show us that rome is strong in men and terrible in arms, the winged hats, i tell you, will sweep down the wall from either sea till they meet in the middle, and you will go. i shall not grieve over that, but well i know tribe never helps tribe except for one price. we picts will go too. the winged hats will grind us to this!" he tossed a handful of dust in the air. "'oh, roma dea!" said maximus, half aloud. "it is always one man's work--always and everywhere!" "and one man's life," said allo. "you are emperor, but not a god. you may die." "'i have thought of that too," said he. "very good. if this wind holds, i shall be at the east end of the wall by morning. tomorrow, then, i shall see you two when i inspect, and i will make you captains of the wall for this work." "'one instant, caesar," said pertinax. "all men have their price. i am not bought yet." "'do you also begin to bargain so early?" said maximus. "well?" "'give me justice against my uncle icenus, the duumvir of divio in gaul," he said. "'only a life? i thought it would be money or an office. certainly you shall have him. write his name on these tablets--on the red side; the other is for the living!" and maximus held out his tablets. "'he is of no use to me dead," said pertinax. "my mother is a widow. i am far off. i am not sure he pays her all her dowry." "'no matter. my arm is reasonably long. we will look through your uncle's accounts in due time. now, farewell till tomorrow, o captains of the wall!" 'we saw him grow small across the heather as he walked to the galley. there were picts, scores, each side of him, hidden behind stones. he never looked left or right. he sailed away southerly, full spread before the evening breeze, and when we had watched him out to sea, we were silent. we understood that earth bred few men like to this man. 'presently allo brought the ponies and held them for us to mount--a thing he had never done before. "'wait awhile," said pertinax, and he made a little altar of cut turf, and strewed heather-bloom atop, and laid upon it a letter from a girl in gaul. "'what do you do, o my friend?" i said. "'i sacrifice to my dead youth," he answered, and, when the flames had consumed the letter, he ground them out with his heel. then we rode back to that wall of which we were to be captains.' parnesius stopped. the children sat still, not even asking if that were all the tale. puck beckoned, and pointed the way out of the wood. 'sorry,' he whispered, 'but you must go now.' 'we haven't made him angry, have we?' said una. 'he looks so far off, and--and--thinky.' 'bless your heart, no. wait till tomorrow. it won't be long. remember, you've been playing lays of ancient rome.' and as soon as they had scrambled through their gap where oak, ash and thorn grew, that was all they remembered. a song to mithras mithras, god of the morning, our trumpets waken the wall! 'rome is above the nations, but thou art over all!' now as the names are answered, and the guards are marched away, mithras, also a soldier, give us strength for the day! mithras, god of the noontide, the heather swims in the heat, our helmets scorch our foreheads, our sandals burn our feet. now in the ungirt hour, now ere we blink and drowse, mithras, also a soldier, keep us true to our vows! mithras, god of the sunset, low on the western main, thou descending immortal, immortal to rise again! now when the watch is ended, now when the wine is drawn, mithras, also a soldier, keep us pure till the dawn! mithras, god of the midnight, here where the great bull dies, look on thy children in darkness. oh, take our sacrifice! many roads thou hast fashioned: all of them lead to the light! mithras, also a soldier, teach us to die aright! the winged hats the next day happened to be what they called a wild afternoon. father and mother went out to pay calls; miss blake went for a ride on her bicycle, and they were left all alone till eight o'clock. when they had seen their dear parents and their dear preceptress politely off the premises they got a cabbage-leaf full of raspberries from the gardener, and a wild tea from ellen. they ate the raspberries to prevent their squashing, and they meant to divide the cabbage-leaf with three cows down at the theatre, but they came across a dead hedgehog which they simply had to bury, and the leaf was too useful to waste. then they went on to the forge and found old hobden the hedger at home with his son, the bee boy, who is not quite right in his head, but who can pick up swarms of bees in his naked hands; and the bee boy told them the rhyme about the slow-worm: 'if i had eyes as i could see, no mortal man would trouble me.' they all had tea together by the hives, and hobden said the loaf-cake which ellen had given them was almost as good as what his wife used to make, and he showed them how to set a wire at the right height for hares. they knew about rabbits already. then they climbed up long ditch into the lower end of far wood. this is sadder and darker than the volaterrae end because of an old marl-pit full of black water, where weepy, hairy moss hangs round the stumps of the willows and alders. but the birds come to perch on the dead branches, and hobden says that the bitter willow-water is a sort of medicine for sick animals. they sat down on a felled oak-trunk in the shadows of the beech undergrowth, and were looping the wires hobden had given them, when they saw parnesius. 'how quietly you came!'said una, moving up to make room. 'where's puck?' 'the faun and i have disputed whether it is better that i should tell you all my tale, or leave it untold,' he replied. 'i only said that if he told it as it happened you wouldn't understand it,' said puck, jumping up like a squirrel from behind the log. 'i don't understand all of it,' said una, 'but i like hearing about the little picts.' 'what i can't understand,' said dan, 'is how maximus knew all about the picts when he was over in gaul.' 'he who makes himself emperor anywhere must know everything, everywhere,' said parnesius. 'we had this much from maximus's mouth after the games.' 'games? what games?' said dan. parnesius stretched his arm out stiffly, thumb pointed to the ground. 'gladiators! that sort of game,' he said. 'there were two days' games in his honour when he landed all unexpected at segedunum on the east end of the wall. yes, the day after we had met him we held two days' games; but i think the greatest risk was run, not by the poor wretches on the sand, but by maximus. in the old days the legions kept silence before their emperor. so did not we! you could hear the solid roar run west along the wall as his chair was carried rocking through the crowds. the garrison beat round him--clamouring, clowning, asking for pay, for change of quarters, for anything that came into their wild heads. that chair was like a little boat among waves, dipping and falling, but always rising again after one had shut the eyes.' parnesius shivered. 'were they angry with him?' said dan. 'no more angry than wolves in a cage when their trainer walks among them. if he had turned his back an instant, or for an instant had ceased to hold their eyes, there would have been another emperor made on the wall that hour. was it not so, faun?' 'so it was. so it always will be,' said puck. 'late in the evening his messenger came for us, and we followed to the temple of victory, where he lodged with rutilianus, the general of the wall. i had hardly seen the general before, but he always gave me leave when i wished to take heather. he was a great glutton, and kept five asian cooks, and he came of a family that believed in oracles. we could smell his good dinner when we entered, but the tables were empty. he lay snorting on a couch. maximus sat apart among long rolls of accounts. then the doors were shut. "'these are your men," said maximus to the general, who propped his eye-corners open with his gouty fingers, and stared at us like a fish. "'i shall know them again, caesar," said rutilianus. "very good," said maximus. "now hear! you are not to move man or shield on the wall except as these boys shall tell you. you will do nothing, except eat, without their permission. they are the head and arms. you are the belly!" "'as caesar pleases," the old man grunted. "if my pay and profits are not cut, you may make my ancestors' oracle my master. rome has been! rome has been!" then he turned on his side to sleep. "'he has it," said maximus. "we will get to what i need." 'he unrolled full copies of the number of men and supplies on the wall--down to the sick that very day in hunno hospital. oh, but i groaned when his pen marked off detachment after detachment of our best--of our least worthless men! he took two towers of our scythians, two of our north british auxiliaries, two numidian cohorts, the dacians all, and half the belgians. it was like an eagle pecking a carcass. "'and now, how many catapults have you?" he turned up a new list, but pertinax laid his open hand there. "'no, caesar," said he. "do not tempt the gods too far. take men, or engines, but not both; else we refuse."' 'engines?' said una. 'the catapults of the wall--huge things forty feet high to the head--firing nets of raw stone or forged bolts. nothing can stand against them. he left us our catapults at last, but he took a caesar's half of our men without pity. we were a shell when he rolled up the lists! "'hail, caesar! we, about to die, salute you!" said pertinax, laughing. "if any enemy even leans against the wall now, it will tumble." "'give me the three years allo spoke of," he answered, "and you shall have twenty thousand men of your own choosing up here. but now it is a gamble--a game played against the gods, and the stakes are britain, gaul, and perhaps rome. you play on my side?" "'we will play, caesar," i said, for i had never met a man like this man. "good. tomorrow," said he, "i proclaim you captains of the wall before the troops." 'so we went into the moonlight, where they were cleaning the ground after the games. we saw great roma dea atop of the wall, the frost on her helmet, and her spear pointed towards the north star. we saw the twinkle of night-fires all along the guard-towers, and the line of the black catapults growing smaller and smaller in the distance. all these things we knew till we were weary; but that night they seemed very strange to us, because the next day we knew we were to be their masters. 'the men took the news well; but when maximus went away with half our strength, and we had to spread ourselves into the emptied towers, and the townspeople complained that trade would be ruined, and the autumn gales blew--it was dark days for us two. here pertinax was more than my right hand. being born and bred among the great country houses in gaul, he knew the proper words to address to all--from roman-born centurions to those dogs of the third--the libyans. and he spoke to each as though that man were as high-minded as himself. now i saw so strongly what things were needed to be done, that i forgot things are only accomplished by means of men. that was a mistake. 'i feared nothing from the picts, at least for that year, but allo warned me that the winged hats would soon come in from the sea at each end of the wall to prove to the picts how weak we were. so i made ready in haste, and none too soon. i shifted our best men to the ends of the wall, and set up screened catapults by the beach. the winged hats would drive in before the snow-squalls--ten or twenty boats at a time--on segedunum or ituna, according as the wind blew. 'now a ship coming in to land men must furl her sail. if you wait till you see her men gather up the sail's foot, your catapults can jerk a net of loose stones (bolts only cut through the cloth) into the bag of it. then she turns over, and the sea makes everything clean again. a few men may come ashore, but very few... it was not hard work, except the waiting on the beach in blowing sand and snow. and that was how we dealt with the winged hats that winter. 'early in the spring, when the east winds blow like skinning-knives, they gathered again off segedunum with many ships. allo told me they would never rest till they had taken a tower in open fight. certainly they fought in the open. we dealt with them thoroughly through a long day: and when all was finished, one man dived clear of the wreckage of his ship, and swam towards shore. i waited, and a wave tumbled him at my feet. 'as i stooped, i saw he wore such a medal as i wear.' parnesius raised his hand to his neck. 'therefore, when he could speak, i addressed him a certain question which can only be answered in a certain manner. he answered with the necessary word--the word that belongs to the degree of gryphons in the science of mithras my god. i put my shield over him till he could stand up. you see i am not short, but he was a head taller than i. he said: "what now?" i said: "at your pleasure, my brother, to stay or go." 'he looked out across the surf. there remained one ship unhurt, beyond range of our catapults. i checked the catapults and he waved her in. she came as a hound comes to a master. when she was yet a hundred paces from the beach, he flung back his hair, and swam out. they hauled him in, and went away. i knew that those who worship mithras are many and of all races, so i did not think much more upon the matter. 'a month later i saw allo with his horses--by the temple of pan, o faun--and he gave me a great necklace of gold studded with coral. 'at first i thought it was a bribe from some tradesman in the town--meant for old rutilianus. "nay," said allo. "this is a gift from amal, that winged hat whom you saved on the beach. he says you are a man." "'he is a man, too. tell him i can wear his gift," i answered. "'oh, amal is a young fool; but 'speaking as sensible men, your emperor is doing such great things in gaul that the winged hats are anxious to be his friends, or, better still, the friends of his servants. they think you and pertinax could lead them to victories." allo looked at me like a one-eyed raven. "'allo," i said, "you are the corn between the two millstones. be content if they grind evenly, and don't thrust your hand between them." "'i?" said allo. "i hate rome and the winged hats equally; but if the winged hats thought that some day you and pertinax might join them against maximus, they would leave you in peace while you considered. time is what we need--you and i and maximus. let me carry a pleasant message back to the winged hats--something for them to make a council over. we barbarians are all alike. we sit up half the night to discuss anything a roman says. eh?" "'we have no men. we must fight with words," said pertinax. "leave it to allo and me." 'so allo carried word back to the winged hats that we would not fight them if they did not fight us; and they (i think they were a little tired of losing men in the sea) agreed to a sort of truce. i believe allo, who being a horse-dealer loved lies, also told them we might some day rise against maximus as maximus had risen against rome. 'indeed, they permitted the corn-ships which i sent to the picts to pass north that season without harm. therefore the picts were well fed that winter, and since they were in some sort my children, i was glad of it. we had only two thousand men on the wall, and i wrote many times to maximus and begged--prayed--him to send me only one cohort of my old north british troops. he could not spare them. he needed them to win more victories in gaul. 'then came news that he had defeated and slain the emperor gratian, and thinking he must now be secure, i wrote again for men. he answered: "you will learn that i have at last settled accounts with the pup gratian. there was no need that he should have died, but he became confused and lost his head, which is a bad thing to befall any emperor. tell your father i am content to drive two mules only; for unless my old general's son thinks himself destined to destroy me, i shall rest emperor of gaul and britain, and then you, my two children, will presently get all the men you need. just now i can spare none."' 'what did he mean by his general's son?' said dan. 'he meant theodosius emperor of rome, who was the son of theodosius the general under whom maximus had fought in the old pict war. the two men never loved each other, and when gratian made the younger theodosius emperor of the east (at least, so i've heard), maximus carried on the war to the second generation. it was his fate, and it was his fall. but theodosius the emperor is a good man. as i know.' parnesius was silent for a moment and then continued. 'i wrote back to maximus that, though we had peace on the wall, i should be happier with a few more men and some new catapults. he answered: "you must live a little longer under the shadow of my victories, till i can see what young theodosius intends. he may welcome me as a brother-emperor, or he may be preparing an army. in either case i cannot spare men just now." 'but he was always saying that,' cried una. 'it was true. he did not make excuses; but thanks, as he said, to the news of his victories, we had no trouble on the wall for a long, long time. the picts grew fat as their own sheep among the heather, and as many of my men as lived were well exercised in their weapons. yes, the wall looked strong. for myself, i knew how weak we were. i knew that if even a false rumour of any defeat to maximus broke loose among the winged hats, they might come down in earnest, and then--the wall must go! for the picts i never cared, but in those years i learned something of the strength of the winged hats. they increased their strength every day, but i could not increase my men. maximus had emptied britain behind us, and i felt myself to be a man with a rotten stick standing before a broken fence to turn bulls. 'thus, my friends, we lived on the wall, waiting--waiting--waiting for the men that maximus never sent. 'presently he wrote that he was preparing an army against theodosius. he wrote--and pertinax read it over my shoulder in our quarters: "tell your father that my destiny orders me to drive three mules or be torn in pieces by them. i hope within a year to finish with theodosius, son of theodosius, once and for all. then you shall have britain to rule, and pertinax, if he chooses, gaul. today i wish strongly you were with me to beat my auxiliaries into shape. do not, i pray you, believe any rumour of my sickness. i have a little evil in my old body which i shall cure by riding swiftly into rome." 'said pertinax: "it is finished with maximus. he writes as a man without hope. i, a man without hope, can see this. what does he add at the bottom of the roll? 'tell pertinax i have met his late uncle, the duumvir of divio, and that he accounted to me quite truthfully for all his mother's monies. i have sent her with a fitting escort, for she is the mother of a hero, to nicaea, where the climate is warm.' "'that is proof," said pertinax. "nicaea is not far by sea from rome. a woman there could take ship and fly to rome in time of war. yes, maximus foresees his death, and is fulfilling his promises one by one. but i am glad my uncle met him."' "'you think blackly today?" i asked. "'i think truth. the gods weary of the play we have played against them. theodosius will destroy maximus. it is finished!" "'will you write him that?" i said. "'see what i shall write," he answered, and he took pen and wrote a letter cheerful as the light of day, tender as a woman's and full of jests. even i, reading over his shoulder, took comfort from it till--i saw his face! "'and now," he said, sealing it, "we be two dead men, my brother. let us go to the temple." 'we prayed awhile to mithras, where we had many times prayed before. after that, we lived day by day among evil rumours till winter came again. 'it happened one morning that we rode to the east shore, and found on the beach a fair-haired man, half frozen, bound to some broken planks. turning him over, we saw by his belt-buckle that he was a goth of an eastern legion. suddenly he opened his eyes and cried loudly, "he is dead! the letters were with me, but the winged hats sank the ship." so saying, he died between our hands. 'we asked not who was dead. we knew! we raced before the driving snow to hunno, thinking perhaps allo might be there. we found him already at our stables, and he saw by our faces what we had heard. "'it was in a tent by the sea," he stammered. "he was beheaded by theodosius. he sent a letter to you, written while he waited to be slain. the winged hats met the ship and took it. the news is running through the heather like fire. blame me not! i cannot hold back my young men any more." "'i would we could say as much for our men," said pertinax, laughing. "but, gods be praised, they cannot run away." "'what do you do?" said allo. "i bring an order--a message--from the winged hats that you join them with your men, and march south to plunder britain." "'it grieves me," said pertinax, "but we are stationed here to stop that thing." "'if i carry back such an answer they will kill me," said allo. "i always promised the winged hats that you would rise when maximus fell. i--i did not think he could fall." "'alas! my poor barbarian," said pertinax, still laughing. "well, you have sold us too many good ponies to be thrown back to your friends. we will make you a prisoner, although you are an ambassador." "'yes, that will be best," said allo, holding out a halter. we bound him lightly, for he was an old man. "'presently the winged hats may come to look for you, and that will give us more time. see how the habit of playing for time sticks to a man!" said pertinax, as he tied the rope. "'no," i said. "time may help. if maximus wrote us a letter while he was a prisoner, theodosius must have sent the ship that brought it. if he can send ships, he can send men." "'how will that profit us?" said pertinax. "we serve maximus, not theodosius. even if by some miracle of the gods theodosius down south sent and saved the wall, we could not expect more than the death maximus died." "'it concerns us to defend the wall, no matter what emperor dies, or makes die," i said. "'that is worthy of your brother the philosopher," said pertinax. "myself i am without hope, so i do not say solemn and stupid things! rouse the wall!" 'we armed the wall from end to end; we told the officers that there was a rumour of maximus's death which might bring down the winged hats, but we were sure, even if it were true, that theodosius, for the sake of britain, would send us help. therefore, we must stand fast... my friends, it is above all things strange to see how men bear ill news! often the strongest till then become the weakest, while the weakest, as it were, reach up and steal strength from the gods. so it was with us. yet my pertinax by his jests and his courtesy and his labours had put heart and training into our poor numbers during the past years--more than i should have thought possible. even our libyan cohort--the third--stood up in their padded cuirasses and did not whimper. 'in three days came seven chiefs and elders of the winged hats. among them was that tall young man, amal, whom i had met on the beach, and he smiled when he saw my necklace. we made them welcome, for they were ambassadors. we showed them allo, alive but bound. they thought we had killed him, and i saw it would not have vexed them if we had. allo saw it too, and it vexed him. then in our quarters at hunno we came to council. 'they said that rome was falling, and that we must join them. they offered me all south britain to govern after they had taken a tribute out of it. 'i answered, "patience. this wall is not weighed off like plunder. give me proof that my general is dead." "'nay," said one elder, "prove to us that he lives"; and another said cunningly, "what will you give us if we read you his last words?" "'we are not merchants to bargain," cried amal. "moreover, i owe this man my life. he shall have his proof." he threw across to me a letter (well i knew the seal) from maximus. "'we took this out of the ship we sank," he cried. "i cannot read, but i know one sign, at least, which makes me believe." he showed me a dark stain on the outer roll that my heavy heart perceived was the valiant blood of maximus. "'read!" said amal. "read, and then let us hear whose servants you are!" 'said pertinax, very softly, after he had looked through it: "i will read it all. listen, barbarians!" he read that which i have carried next my heart ever since.' parnesius drew from his neck a folded and spotted piece of parchment, and began in a hushed voice: "'to parnesius and pertinax, the not unworthy captains of the wall, from maximus, once emperor of gaul and britain, now prisoner waiting death by the sea in the camp of theodosius--greeting and goodbye!" "'enough," said young amal; "there is your proof! you must join us now!" 'pertinax looked long and silently at him, till that fair man blushed like a girl. then read pertinax: "'i have joyfully done much evil in my life to those who have wished me evil, but if ever i did any evil to you two i repent, and i ask your forgiveness. the three mules which i strove to drive have torn me in pieces as your father prophesied. the naked swords wait at the tent door to give me the death i gave to gratian. therefore i, your general and your emperor, send you free and honourable dismissal from my service, which you entered, not for money or office, but, as it makes me warm to believe, because you loved me!" "'by the light of the sun," amal broke in. "this was in some sort a man! we may have been mistaken in his servants!" 'and pertinax read on: "you gave me the time for which i asked. if i have failed to use it, do not lament. we have gambled very splendidly against the gods, but they hold weighted dice, and i must pay the forfeit. remember, i have been; but rome is; and rome will be. tell pertinax his mother is in safety at nicaea, and her monies are in charge of the prefect at antipolis. make my remembrances to your father and to your mother, whose friendship was great gain to me. give also to my little picts and to the winged hats such messages as their thick heads can understand. i would have sent you three legions this very day if all had gone aright. do not forget me. we have worked together. farewell! farewell! farewell!" 'now, that was my emperor's last letter.' (the children heard the parchment crackle as parnesius returned it to its place.) "'i was mistaken," said amal. "the servants of such a man will sell nothing except over the sword. i am glad of it." he held out his hand to me. "'but maximus has given you your dismissal," said an elder. "you are certainly free to serve--or to rule--whom you please. join--do not follow--join us!" "'we thank you," said pertinax. "but maximus tells us to give you such messages as--pardon me, but i use his words--your thick heads can understand." he pointed through the door to the foot of a catapult wound up. "'we understand," said an elder. "the wall must be won at a price?" "'it grieves me," said pertinax, laughing, "but so it must be won," and he gave them of our best southern wine. 'they drank, and wiped their yellow beards in silence till they rose to go. 'said amal, stretching himself (for they were barbarians): "we be a goodly company; i wonder what the ravens and the dogfish will make of some of us before this snow melts." "'think rather what theodosius may send," i answered; and though they laughed, i saw that my chance shot troubled them. 'only old allo lingered behind a little. "'you see," he said, winking and blinking, "i am no more than their dog. when i have shown their men the secret short ways across our bogs, they will kick me like one." "'then i should not be in haste to show them those ways," said pertinax, "till i was sure that rome could not save the wall." "'you think so? woe is me!" said the old man. "i only wanted peace for my people," and he went out stumbling through the snow behind the tall winged hats. 'in this fashion then, slowly, a day at a time, which is very bad for doubting troops, the war came upon us. at first the winged hats swept in from the sea as they had done before, and there we met them as before--with the catapults; and they sickened of it. yet for a long time they would not trust their duck-legs on land, and i think, when it came to revealing the secrets of the tribe, the little picts were afraid or ashamed to show them all the roads across the heather. i had this from a pict prisoner. they were as much our spies as our enemies, for the winged hats oppressed them, and took their winter stores. ah, foolish little people! 'then the winged hats began to roll us up from each end of the wall. i sent runners southward to see what the news might be in britain, but the wolves were very bold that winter, among the deserted stations where the troops had once been, and none came back. we had trouble, too, with the forage for the ponies along the wall. i kept ten, and so did pertinax. we lived and slept in the saddle, riding east or west, and we ate our worn-out ponies. the people of the town also made us some trouble till i gathered them all in one quarter behind hunno. we broke down the wall on either side of it to make as it were a citadel. our men fought better in close order. 'by the end of the second month we were deep in the war as a man is deep in a snowdrift, or in a dream. i think we fought in our sleep. at least i know i have gone on the wall and come off again, remembering nothing between, though my throat was harsh with giving orders, and my sword, i could see, had been used. 'the winged hats fought like wolves--all in a pack. where they had suffered most, there they charged in most hotly. this was hard for the defenders, but it held them from sweeping on into britain. 'in those days pertinax and i wrote on the plaster of the bricked archway into valentia the names of the towers, and the days on which they fell one by one. we wished for some record. 'and the fighting? the fight was always hottest to left and right of the great statue of roma dea, near to rutilianus's house. by the light of the sun, that old fat man, whom we had not considered at all, grew young again among the trumpets! i remember he said his sword was an oracle! "let us consult the oracle," he would say, and put the handle against his ear, and shake his head wisely. "and this day is allowed rutilianus to live," he would say, and, tucking up his cloak, he would puff and pant and fight well. oh, there were jests in plenty on the wall to take the place of food! 'we endured for two months and seventeen days--always being pressed from three sides into a smaller space. several times allo sent in word that help was at hand. we did not believe it, but it cheered our men. 'the end came not with shootings of joy, but, like the rest, as in a dream. the winged hats suddenly left us in peace for one night and the next day; which is too long for spent men. we slept at first lightly, expecting to be roused, and then like logs, each where he lay. may you never need such sleep! when i waked our towers were full of strange, armed men, who watched us snoring. i roused pertinax, and we leaped up together. "'what?" said a young man in clean armour. "do you fight against theodosius? look!" 'north we looked over the red snow. no winged hats were there. south we looked over the white snow, and behold there were the eagles of two strong legions encamped. east and west we saw flame and fighting, but by hunno all was still. "'trouble no more," said the young man. "rome's arm is long. where are the captains of the wall?" 'we said we were those men. "'but you are old and grey-haired," he cried. "maximus said that they were boys." "'yes, that was true some years ago," said pertinax. "what is our fate to be, you fine and well-fed child?" "'i am called ambrosius, a secretary of the emperor," he answered. "show me a certain letter which maximus wrote from a tent at aquileia, and perhaps i will believe." 'i took it from my breast, and when he had read it he saluted us, saying: "your fate is in your own hands. if you choose to serve theodosius, he will give you a legion. if it suits you to go to your homes, we will give you a triumph." "'i would like better a bath, wine, food, razors, soaps, oils, and scents," said pertinax, laughing. "'oh, i see you are a boy," said ambrosius. "and you?" turning to me. "'we bear no ill-will against theodosius, but in war-" i began. "'in war it is as it is in love," said pertinax. "whether she be good or bad, one gives one's best once, to one only. that given, there remains no second worth giving or taking." "'that is true," said ambrosius. "i was with maximus before he died. he warned theodosius that you would never serve him, and frankly i say i am sorry for my emperor." "'he has rome to console him," said pertinax. "i ask you of your kindness to let us go to our homes and get this smell out of our nostrils." 'none the less they gave us a triumph!' 'it was well earned,' said puck, throwing some leaves into the still water of the marlpit. the black, oily circles spread dizzily as the children watched them. 'i want to know, oh, ever so many things,' said dan. 'what happened to old allo? did the winged hats ever come back? and what did amal do?' 'and what happened to the fat old general with the five cooks?' said una. 'and what did your mother say when you came home? ...' 'she'd say you're settin' too long over this old pit, so late as 'tis already,' said old hobden's voice behind them. 'hst!' he whispered. he stood still, for not twenty paces away a magnificent dog-fox sat on his haunches and looked at the children as though he were an old friend of theirs. 'oh, mus' reynolds, mus' reynolds!' said hobden, under his breath. 'if i knowed all was inside your head, i'd know something wuth knowin'. mus' dan an' miss una, come along o' me while i lock up my liddle henhouse.' a pict song rome never looks where she treads, always her heavy hooves fall on our stomachs, our hearts or our heads; and rome never heeds when we bawl. her sentries pass on--that is all, and we gather behind them in hordes, and plot to reconquer the wall, with only our tongues for our swords. we are the little folk--we! too little to love or to hate. leave us alone and you'll see how we can drag down the great! we are the worm in the wood! we are the rot in the root! we are the germ in the blood! we are the thorn in the foot! mistletoe killing an oak-- rats gnawing cables in two-- moths making holes in a cloak-- how they must love what they do! yes--and we little folk too, we are as busy as they-- working our works out of view-- watch, and you'll see it some day! no indeed! we are not strong, but we know peoples that are. yes, and we'll guide them along, to smash and destroy you in war! we shall be slaves just the same? yes, we have always been slaves, but you--you will die of the shame, and then we shall dance on your graves! we are the little folk, we, etc. hal o' the draft prophets have honour all over the earth, except in the village where they were born, where such as knew them boys from birth nature-ally hold 'em in scorn. when prophets are naughty and young and vain, they make a won'erful grievance of it; (you can see by their writings how they complain), but oh, 'tis won'erful good for the prophet! there's nothing nineveh town can give (nor being swallowed by whales between), makes up for the place where a man's folk live, that don't care nothing what he has been. he might ha' been that, or he might ha' been this, but they love and they hate him for what he is. a rainy afternoon drove dan and una over to play pirates in the little mill. if you don't mind rats on the rafters and oats in your shoes, the mill-attic, with its trap-doors and inscriptions on beams about floods and sweethearts, is a splendid place. it is lighted by a foot-square window, called duck window, that looks across to little lindens farm, and the spot where jack cade was killed. when they had climbed the attic ladder (they called it 'the mainmast tree', out of the ballad of sir andrew barton, and dan 'swarved it with might and main', as the ballad says) they saw a man sitting on duck window-sill. he was dressed in a plum-coloured doublet and tight plum-coloured hose, and he drew busily in a red-edged book. 'sit ye! sit ye!' puck cried from a rafter overhead. 'see what it is to be beautiful! sir harry dawe--pardon, hal--says i am the very image of a head for a gargoyle.' the man laughed and raised his dark velvet cap to the children, and his grizzled hair bristled out in a stormy fringe. he was old--forty at least--but his eyes were young, with funny little wrinkles all round them. a satchel of embroidered leather hung from his broad belt, which looked interesting. 'may we see?' said una, coming forward. 'surely--sure-ly!' he said, moving up on the window-seat, and returned to his work with a silver-pointed pencil. puck sat as though the grin were fixed for ever on his broad face, while they watched the quick, certain fingers that copied it. presently the man took a reed pen from his satchel, and trimmed it with a little ivory knife, carved in the semblance of a fish. 'oh, what a beauty!' cried dan. ''ware fingers! that blade is perilous sharp. i made it myself of the best low country cross-bow steel. and so, too, this fish. when his back-fin travels to his tail--so--he swallows up the blade, even as the whale swallowed gaffer jonah ... yes, and that's my inkhorn. i made the four silver saints round it. press barnabas's head. it opens, and then--'he dipped the trimmed pen, and with careful boldness began to put in the essential lines of puck's rugged face, that had been but faintly revealed by the silver-point. the children gasped, for it fairly leaped from the page. as he worked, and the rain fell on the tiles, he talked--now clearly, now muttering, now breaking off to frown or smile at his work. he told them he was born at little lindens farm, and his father used to beat him for drawing things instead of doing things, till an old priest called father roger, who drew illuminated letters in rich people's books, coaxed the parents to let him take the boy as a sort of painter's apprentice. then he went with father roger to oxford, where he cleaned plates and carried cloaks and shoes for the scholars of a college called merton. 'didn't you hate that?' said dan after a great many other questions. 'i never thought on't. half oxford was building new colleges or beautifying the old, and she had called to her aid the master-craftsmen of all christendie--kings in their trade and honoured of kings. i knew them. i worked for them: that was enough. no wonder--' he stopped and laughed. 'you became a great man, hal,' said puck. 'they said so, robin. even bramante said so.' 'why? what did you do?' dan asked. the artist looked at him queerly. 'things in stone and such, up and down england. you would not have heard of 'em. to come nearer home, i rebuilded this little st barnabas' church of ours. it cost me more trouble and sorrow than aught i've touched in my life. but 'twas a sound lesson.' 'um,' said dan. 'we've had lessons this morning.' 'i'll not afflict ye, lad,' said hal, while puck roared. 'only 'tis strange to think how that little church was rebuilt, re-roofed, and made glorious, thanks to some few godly sussex ironmasters, a bristow sailor lad, a proud ass called hal o' the draft because, d'you see, he was always drawing and drafting; and'--he dragged the words slowly--'and a scotch pirate.' 'pirate?' said dan. he wriggled like a hooked fish. 'even that andrew barton you were singing of on the stair just now.' he dipped again in the inkwell, and held his breath over a sweeping line, as though he had forgotten everything else. 'pirates don't build churches, do they?' said dan. 'or do they?' 'they help mightily,' hal laughed. 'but you were at your lessons this morn, jack scholar.' 'oh, pirates aren't lessons. it was only bruce and his silly old spider,' said una. 'why did sir andrew barton help you?' 'i question if he ever knew it,' said hal, twinkling. 'robin, how a' mischief's name am i to tell these innocents what comes of sinful pride?' 'oh, we know all about that,' said una pertly. 'if you get too beany--that's cheeky--you get sat upon, of course.' hal considered a moment, pen in air, and puck said some long words. 'aha! that was my case too,' he cried. 'beany--you say--but certainly i did not conduct myself well. i was proud of--of such things as porches--a galilee porch at lincoln for choice--proud of one torrigiano's arm on my shoulder, proud of my knighthood when i made the gilt scroll-work for the sovereign--our king's ship. but father roger sitting in merton college library, he did not forget me. at the top of my pride, when i and no other should have builded the porch at lincoln, he laid it on me with a terrible forefinger to go back to my sussex clays and rebuild, at my own charges, my own church, where us dawes have been buried for six generations. "out! son of my art!" said he. "fight the devil at home ere you call yourself a man and a craftsman." and i quaked, and i went... how's yon, robin?' he flourished the finished sketch before puck. 'me! me past peradventure,' said puck, smirking like a man at a mirror. 'ah, see! the rain has took off! i hate housen in daylight.' 'whoop! holiday!' cried hal, leaping up. 'who's for my little lindens? we can talk there.' they tumbled downstairs, and turned past the dripping willows by the sunny mill-dam. 'body o' me,' said hal, staring at the hop-garden, where the hops were just ready to blossom. 'what are these? vines? no, not vines, and they twine the wrong way to beans.' he began to draw in his ready book. 'hops. new since your day,' said puck. 'they're an herb of mars, and their flowers dried flavour ale. we say-- 'turkeys, heresy, hops, and beer came into england all in one year.' 'heresy i know. i've seen hops--god be praised for their beauty! what is your turkis?' the children laughed. they knew the lindens turkeys, and as soon as they reached lindens orchard on the hill the full flock charged at them. out came hal's book at once. 'hoity-toity!' he cried. 'here's pride in purple feathers! here's wrathy contempt and the pomps of the flesh! how d'you call them?' 'turkeys! turkeys!' the children shouted, as the old gobbler raved and flamed against hal's plum-coloured hose. 'save your magnificence!' he said. 'i've drafted two good new things today.' and he doffed his cap to the bubbling bird. then they walked through the grass to the knoll where little lindens stands. the old farmhouse, weather-tiled to the ground, took almost the colour of a blood-ruby in the afternoon light. the pigeons pecked at the mortar in the chimney-stacks; the bees that had lived under the tiles since it was built filled the hot august air with their booming; and the smell of the box-tree by the dairy-window mixed with the smell of earth after rain, bread after baking, and a tickle of wood-smoke. the farmer's wife came to the door, baby on arm, shaded her brows against the sun, stooped to pluck a sprig of rosemary, and turned down the orchard. the old spaniel in his barrel barked once or twice to show he was in charge of the empty house. puck clicked back the garden-gate. 'd'you marvel that i love it?' said hal, in a whisper. 'what can town folk know of the nature of housen--or land?' they perched themselves arow on the old hacked oak bench in lindens garden, looking across the valley of the brook at the fern-covered dimples and hollows of the forge behind hobden's cottage. the old man was cutting a faggot in his garden by the hives. it was quite a second after his chopper fell that the chump of the blow reached their lazy ears. 'eh--yeh!' said hal. 'i mind when where that old gaffer stands was nether forge--master john collins's foundry. many a night has his big trip-hammer shook me in my bed here. boom-bitty! boom-bitty! if the wind was east, i could hear master tom collins's forge at stockens answering his brother, boom-oop! boom-oop! and midway between, sir john pelham's sledgehammers at brightling would strike in like a pack o' scholars, and "hic-haec-hoc" they'd say, "hic-haec-hoc," till i fell asleep. yes. the valley was as full o' forges and fineries as a may shaw o' cuckoos. all gone to grass now!' 'what did they make?' said dan. 'guns for the king's ships--and for others. serpentines and cannon mostly. when the guns were cast, down would come the king's officers, and take our plough-oxen to haul them to the coast. look! here's one of the first and finest craftsmen of the sea!' he fluttered back a page of his book, and showed them a young man's head. underneath was written: 'sebastianus.' 'he came down with a king's order on master john collins for twenty serpentines (wicked little cannon they be!) to furnish a venture of ships. i drafted him thus sitting by our fire telling mother of the new lands he'd find the far side the world. and he found them, too! there's a nose to cleave through unknown seas! cabot was his name--a bristol lad--half a foreigner. i set a heap by him. he helped me to my church-building.' 'i thought that was sir andrew barton,' said dan. 'ay, but foundations before roofs,' hal answered. 'sebastian first put me in the way of it. i had come down here, not to serve god as a craftsman should, but to show my people how great a craftsman i was. they cared not, and it served me right, one split straw for my craft or my greatness. what a murrain call had i, they said, to mell with old st barnabas'? ruinous the church had been since the black death, and ruinous she would remain; and i could hang myself in my new scaffold-ropes! gentle and simple, high and low--the hayes, the fowles, the fenners, the collinses--they were all in a tale against me. only sir john pelham up yonder at brightling bade me heart-up and go on. yet how could i? did i ask master collins for his timber-tug to haul beams? the oxen had gone to lewes after lime. did he promise me a set of iron cramps or ties for the roof? they never came to hand, or else they were spaulty or cracked. so with everything. nothing said, but naught done except i stood by them, and then done amiss. i thought the countryside was fair bewitched.' 'it was, sure-ly,' said puck, knees under chin. 'did you never suspect ary one?' 'not till sebastian came for his guns, and john collins played him the same dog's tricks as he'd played me with my ironwork. week in, week out, two of three serpentines would be flawed in the casting, and only fit, they said, to be re-melted. then john collins would shake his head, and vow he could pass no cannon for the king's service that were not perfect. saints! how sebastian stormed! i know, for we sat on this bench sharing our sorrows inter-common. 'when sebastian had fumed away six weeks at lindens and gotten just six serpentines, dirk brenzett, master of the cygnet hoy, sends me word that the block of stone he was fetching me from france for our new font he'd hove overboard to lighten his ship, chased by andrew barton up to rye port.' 'ah! the pirate!' said dan. 'yes. and while i am tearing my hair over this, ticehurst will, my best mason, comes to me shaking, and vowing that the devil, horned, tailed, and chained, has run out on him from the church-tower, and the men would work there no more. so i took 'em off the foundations, which we were strengthening, and went into the bell tavern for a cup of ale. says master john collins: "have it your own way, lad; but if i was you, i'd take the sinnification o' the sign, and leave old barnabas' church alone!" and they all wagged their sinful heads, and agreed. less afraid of the devil than of me--as i saw later. 'when i brought my sweet news to lindens, sebastian was limewashing the kitchen-beams for mother. he loved her like a son. "'cheer up, lad," he says. "god's where he was. only you and i chance to be pure pute asses. we've been tricked, hal, and more shame to me, a sailor, that i did not guess it before! you must leave your belfry alone, forsooth, because the devil is adrift there; and i cannot get my serpentines because john collins cannot cast them aright. meantime andrew barton hawks off the port of rye. and why? to take those very serpentines which poor cabot must whistle for; the said serpentines, i'll wager my share of new continents, being now hid away in st barnabas' church-tower. clear as the irish coast at noonday!" "they'd sure never dare to do it," i said; "and, for another thing, selling cannon to the king's enemies is black treason--hanging and fine." "'it is sure, large profit. men'll dare any gallows for that. i have been a trader myself," says he. "we must be upsides with 'em for the honour of bristol." 'then he hatched a plot, sitting on the limewash bucket. we gave out to ride o' tuesday to london and made a show of taking farewells of our friends--especially of master john collins. but at wadhurst woods we turned; rode home to the water-meadows; hid our horses in a willow-tot at the foot of the glebe, and, come night, stole a-tiptoe uphill to barnabas' church again. a thick mist, and a moon striking through. 'i had no sooner locked the tower-door behind us than over goes sebastian full length in the dark. "'pest!" he says. "step high and feel low, hal. i've stumbled over guns before." 'i groped, and one by one--the tower was pitchy dark--i counted the lither barrels of twenty serpentines laid out on pease straw. no conceal at all! "'there's two demi-cannon my end," says sebastian, slapping metal. "they'll be for andrew barton's lower deck. honest--honest john collins! so this is his ware-house, his arsenal, his armoury! now see you why your pokings and pryings have raised the devil in sussex? you've hindered john's lawful trade for months," and he laughed where he lay. 'a clay-cold tower is no fireside at midnight, so we climbed the belfry stairs, and there sebastian trips over a cow-hide with its horns and tail. "'aha! your devil has left his doublet! does it become me, hal?" he draws it on and capers in the shafts of window-moonlight--won'erful devilish-like. then he sits on the stairs, rapping with his tail on a board, and his back-aspect was dreader than his front, and a howlet lit in, and screeched at the horns of him. "'if you'd keep out the devil, shut the door," he whispered. "and that's another false proverb, hal, for i can hear your tower-door opening." "'i locked it. who a-plague has another key, then?" i said. "'all the congregation, to judge by their feet," he says, and peers into the blackness. "still! still, hal! hear 'em grunt! that's more o' my serpentines, i'll be bound. one--two--three--four they bear in! faith, andrew equips himself like an admiral! twenty-four serpentines in all!" 'as if it had been an echo, we heard john collins's voice come up all hollow: "twenty-four serpentines and two demi-cannon. that's the full tally for sir andrew barton." "'courtesy costs naught," whispers sebastian. "shall i drop my dagger on his head?" "'they go over to rye o' thursday in the wool-wains, hid under the wool-packs. dirk brenzett meets them at udimore, as before," says john. "'lord! what a worn, handsmooth trade it is!" says sebastian. "i lay we are the sole two babes in the village that have not our lawful share in the venture." 'there was a full score folk below, talking like all robertsbridge market. we counted them by voice. 'master john collins pipes: "the guns for the french carrack must lie here next month. will, when does your young fool" (me, so please you!) "come back from lunnon?" "'no odds," i heard ticehurst will answer. "lay 'em just where you've a mind, mus' collins. we're all too afraid o' the devil to mell with the tower now." and the long knave laughed. "'ah! 'tis easy enow for you to raise the devil, will," says another--ralph hobden of the forge. "'aaa-men!" roars sebastian, and ere i could hold him, he leaps down the stairs--won'erful devilish-like howling no bounds. he had scarce time to lay out for the nearest than they ran. saints, how they ran! we heard them pound on the door of the bell tavern, and then we ran too. "'what's next?" says sebastian, looping up his cow-tail as he leaped the briars. "i've broke honest john's face." "'ride to sir john pelham's," i said. "he is the only one that ever stood by me." 'we rode to brightling, and past sir john's lodges, where the keepers would have shot at us for deer-stealers, and we had sir john down into his justice's chair, and when we had told him our tale and showed him the cow-hide which sebastian wore still girt about him, he laughed till the tears ran. "'wel-a-well!" he says. "i'll see justice done before daylight. what's your complaint? master collins is my old friend." "'he's none of mine," i cried. "when i think how he and his likes have baulked and dozened and cozened me at every turn over the church"--and i choked at the thought. "'ah, but ye see now they needed it for another use," says he smoothly. "also they did my serpentines," sebastian cries. "i should be half across the western ocean by now if my guns had been ready. but they're sold to a scotch pirate by your old friend--" "'where's your proof?" says sir john, stroking his beard. "'i broke my shins over them not an hour since, and i heard john give order where they were to be taken," says sebastian. "'words! words only," says sir john. "master collins is somewhat of a liar at best." 'he carried it so gravely that, for the moment, i thought he was dipped in this secret traffick too, and that there was not an honest ironmaster in sussex. "'name o' reason!" says sebastian, and raps with his cow-tail on the table, "whose guns are they, then?" "'yours, manifestly," says sir john. "you come with the king's order for 'em, and master collins casts them in his foundry. if he chooses to bring them up from nether forge and lay 'em out in the church-tower, why, they are e'en so much the nearer to the main road and you are saved a day's hauling. what a coil to make of a mere act of neighbourly kindness, lad!" "'i fear i have requited him very scurvily," says sebastian, looking at his knuckles. "but what of the demi-cannon? i could do with 'em well, but they are not in the king's order." "'kindness--loving-kindness," says sir john. "questionless, in his zeal for the king and his love for you, john adds those two cannon as a gift. 'tis plain as this coming daylight, ye stockfish!" "'so it is," says sebastian. "oh, sir john, sir john, why did you never use the sea? you are lost ashore." and he looked on him with great love. "'i do my best in my station." sir john strokes his beard again and rolls forth his deep drumming justice's voice thus: "but--suffer me!---you two lads, on some midnight frolic into which i probe not, roystering around the taverns, surprise master collins at his"--he thinks a moment--"at his good deeds done by stealth. ye surprise him, i say, cruelly." "'truth, sir john. if you had seen him run!" says sebastian. "'on this you ride breakneck to me with a tale of pirates, and wool-wains, and cow-hides, which, though it hath moved my mirth as a man, offendeth my reason as a magistrate. so i will e'en accompany you back to the tower with, perhaps, some few of my own people, and three-four wagons, and i'll be your warrant that master john collins will freely give you your guns and your demi-cannon, master sebastian." he breaks into his proper voice--"i warned the old tod and his neighbours long ago that they'd come to trouble with their side-sellings and bye-dealings; but we cannot have half sussex hanged for a little gun-running. are ye content, lads?" "'i'd commit any treason for two demi-cannon,' said sebastian, and rubs his hands. "ye have just compounded with rank treason-felony for the same bribe," says sir john. "wherefore to horse, and get the guns."' 'but master collins meant the guns for sir andrew barton all along, didn't he?' said dan. 'questionless, that he did,' said hal. 'but he lost them. we poured into the village on the red edge of dawn, sir john horsed, in half-armour, his pennon flying; behind him thirty stout brightling knaves, five abreast; behind them four wool-wains, and behind them four trumpets to triumph over the jest, blowing: our king went forth to normandie. when we halted and rolled the ringing guns out of the tower, 'twas for all the world like friar roger's picture of the french siege in the queen's missal-book.' 'and what did we--i mean, what did our village do?' said dan. 'oh! bore it nobly--nobly,' cried hal. 'though they had tricked me, i was proud of them. they came out of their housen, looked at that little army as though it had been a post, and went their shut-mouthed way. never a sign! never a word! they'd ha' perished sooner than let brightling overcrow us. even that villain, ticehurst will, coming out of the bell for his morning ale, he all but runs under sir john's horse. "''ware, sirrah devil!" cries sir john, reining back. "'oh!" says will. "market-day, is it? and all the bullocks from brightling here?" 'i spared him his belting for that--the brazen knave! 'but john collins was our masterpiece! he happened along-street (his jaw tied up where sebastian had clouted him) when we were trundling the first demi-cannon through the lych-gate. "'i reckon you'll find her middlin' heavy," he says. "if you've a mind to pay, i'll loan ye my timber-tug. she won't lie easy on ary wool-wain." 'that was the one time i ever saw sebastian taken flat aback. he opened and shut his mouth, fishy-like. "'no offence," says master john. "you've got her reasonable good cheap. i thought ye might not grudge me a groat if i helped move her." ah, he was a masterpiece! they say that morning's work cost our john two hundred pounds, and he never winked an eyelid, not even when he saw the guns all carted off to lewes.' 'neither then nor later?' said puck. 'once. 'twas after he gave st barnabas' the new chime of bells. (oh, there was nothing the collinses, or the hayes, or the fowles, or the fenners would not do for the church then! "ask and have" was their song.) we had rung 'em in, and he was in the tower with black nick fowle, that gave us our rood-screen. the old man pinches the bell-rope one hand and scratches his neck with t'other. "sooner she was pulling yon clapper than my neck, he says. that was all! that was sussex seely sussex for everlasting.' 'and what happened after?' said una. 'i went back into england,' said hal, slowly. 'i'd had my lesson against pride. but they tell me i left st barnabas' a jewel--just about a jewel! wel-a-well! 'twas done for and among my own people, and--father roger was right--i never knew such trouble or such triumph since. that's the nature o' things. a dear--dear land.' he dropped his chin on his chest. 'there's your father at the forge. what's he talking to old hobden about?' said puck, opening his hand with three leaves in it. dan looked towards the cottage. 'oh, i know. it's that old oak lying across the brook. pater always wants it grubbed.' in the still valley they could hear old hobden's deep tones. 'have it as you've a mind to,' he was saying. 'but the vivers of her roots they hold the bank together. if you grub her out, the bank she'll all come tearin' down, an' next floods the brook'll swarve up. but have it as you've a mind. the mistuss she sets a heap by the ferns on her trunk. 'oh! i'll think it over,' said the pater. una laughed a little bubbling chuckle. 'what devil's in that belfry?' said hal, with a lazy laugh. 'that should be a hobden by his voice.' 'why, the oak is the regular bridge for all the rabbits between the three acre and our meadow. the best place for wires on the farm, hobden says. he's got two there now,' una answered. 'he won't ever let it be grubbed!' 'ah, sussex! seely sussex for everlastin',' murmured hal; and the next moment their father's voice calling across to little lindens broke the spell as little st barnabas' clock struck five. a smugglers' song if you wake at midnight, and hear a horse's feet, don't go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street, them that asks no questions isn't told a lie. watch the wall, my darling, while the gentlemen go by! five-and-twenty ponies, trotting through the dark-- brandy for the parson, 'baccy for the clerk; laces for a lady; letters for a spy, and watch the wall, my darling, while the gentlemen go by! running round the woodlump if you chance to find little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine; don't you shout to come and look, nor take 'em for your play; put the brushwood back again,--and they'll be gone next day! if you see the stable-door setting open wide; if you see a tired horse lying down inside; if your mother mends a coat cut about and tore; if the lining's wet and warm--don't you ask no more! if you meet king george's men, dressed in blue and red, you be careful what you say, and mindful what is said. if they call you 'pretty maid,' and chuck you 'neath the chin, don't you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one's been! knocks and footsteps round the house--whistles after dark-- you've no call for running out till the house-dogs bark. trusty's here, and pincher's here, and see how dumb they lie-- they don't fret to follow when the gentlemen go by! if you do as you've been told, likely there's a chance you'll be give a dainty doll, all the way from france, with a cap of valenciennes, and a velvet hood-- a present from the gentlemen, along o' being good! five-and-twenty ponies, trotting through the dark-- brandy for the parson, 'baccy for the clerk. them that asks no questions isn't told a lie-- watch the wall, my darling, while the gentlemen go by! 'dymchurch flit' the bee boy's song bees! bees! hark to your bees! 'hide from your neighbours as much as you please, but all that has happened, to us you must tell, or else we will give you no honey to sell!' a maiden in her glory, upon her wedding-day, must tell her bees the story, or else they'll fly away. fly away--die away-- dwindle down and leave you! but if you don't deceive your bees, your bees will not deceive you. marriage, birth or buryin', news across the seas, all you're sad or merry in, you must tell the bees. tell 'em coming in an' out, where the fanners fan, 'cause the bees are justabout as curious as a man! don't you wait where trees are, when the lightnings play; nor don't you hate where bees are, or else they'll pine away. pine away--dwine away-- anything to leave you! but if you never grieve your bees, your bees'll never grieve you! just at dusk, a soft september rain began to fall on the hop-pickers. the mothers wheeled the bouncing perambulators out of the gardens; bins were put away, and tally-books made up. the young couples strolled home, two to each umbrella, and the single men walked behind them laughing. dan and una, who had been picking after their lessons, marched off to roast potatoes at the oast-house, where old hobden, with blue-eyed bess, his lurcher dog, lived all the month through, drying the hops. they settled themselves, as usual, on the sack-strewn cot in front of the fires, and, when hobden drew up the shutter, stared, as usual, at the flameless bed of coals spouting its heat up the dark well of the old-fashioned roundel. slowly he cracked off a few fresh pieces of coal, packed them, with fingers that never flinched, exactly where they would do most good; slowly he reached behind him till dan tilted the potatoes into his iron scoop of a hand; carefully he arranged them round the fire, and then stood for a moment, black against the glare. as he closed the shutter, the oast-house seemed dark before the day's end, and he lit the candle in the lanthorn. the children liked all these things because they knew them so well. the bee boy, hobden's son, who is not quite right in his head, though he can do anything with bees, slipped in like a shadow. they only guessed it when bess's stump-tail wagged against them. a big voice began singing outside in the drizzle: 'old mother laidinwool had nigh twelve months been dead, she heard the hops were doin' well, and then popped up her head.' 'there can't be two people made to holler like that!' cried old hobden, wheeling round. 'for, says she, "the boys i've picked with when i was young and fair, they're bound to be at hoppin', and i'm--' a man showed at the doorway. 'well, well! they do say hoppin' 'll draw the very deadest, and now i belieft 'em. you, tom? tom shoesmith?' hobden lowered his lanthorn. 'you're a hem of a time makin' your mind to it, ralph!' the stranger strode in--three full inches taller than hobden, a grey-whiskered, brown-faced giant with clear blue eyes. they shook hands, and the children could hear the hard palms rasp together. 'you ain't lost none o' your grip,' said hobden. 'was it thirty or forty year back you broke my head at peasmarsh fair?' 'only thirty, an' no odds 'tween us regardin' heads, neither. you had it back at me with a hop-pole. how did we get home that night? swimmin'?' 'same way the pheasant come into gubbs's pocket--by a little luck an' a deal o' conjurin'.' old hobden laughed in his deep chest. see you've not forgot your way about the woods. d'ye do any o' this still?' the stranger pretended to look along a gun. hobden answered with a quick movement of the hand as though he were pegging down a rabbit-wire. 'no. that's all that's left me now. age she must as age she can. an' what's your news since all these years?' 'oh, i've bin to plymouth, i've bin to dover-- i've bin ramblin', boys, the wide world over,' the man answered cheerily. 'i reckon i know as much of old england as most.' he turned towards the children and winked boldly. 'i lay they told you a sight o' lies, then. i've been into england fur as wiltsheer once. i was cheated proper over a pair of hedgin'-gloves,' said hobden. 'there's fancy-talkin' everywhere. you've cleaved to your own parts pretty middlin' close, ralph.' 'can't shift an old tree 'thout it dyin',' hobden chuckled. 'an' i be no more anxious to die than you look to be to help me with my hops tonight.' the great man leaned against the brickwork of the roundel, and swung his arms abroad. 'hire me!' was all he said, and they stumped upstairs laughing. the children heard their shovels rasp on the cloth where the yellow hops lie drying above the fires, and all the oast-house filled with the sweet, sleepy smell as they were turned. 'who is it?' una whispered to the bee boy. 'dunno, no more'n you--if you dunno,' said he, and smiled. the voices on the drying-floor talked and chuckled together, and the heavy footsteps moved back and forth. presently a hop-pocket dropped through the press-hole overhead, and stiffened and fattened as they shovelled it full. 'clank!' went the press, and rammed the loose stuff into tight cake. 'gentle!' they heard hobden cry. 'you'll bust her crop if you lay on so. you be as careless as gleason's bull, tom. come an' sit by the fires. she'll do now.' they came down, and as hobden opened the shutter to see if the potatoes were done tom shoesmith said to the children, 'put a plenty salt on 'em. that'll show you the sort o' man i be.'again he winked, and again the bee boy laughed and una stared at dan. 'i know what sort o' man you be,'old hobden grunted, groping for the potatoes round the fire. 'do ye?' tom went on behind his back. 'some of us can't abide horseshoes, or church bells, or running water; an', talkin' o' runnin' water'--he turned to hobden, who was backing out of the roundel--'d'you mind the great floods at robertsbridge, when the miller's man was drowned in the street?' 'middlin' well.' old hobden let himself down on the coals by the fire-door. 'i was courtin' my woman on the marsh that year. carter to mus' plum i was, gettin' ten shillin's week. mine was a marsh woman.' 'won'erful odd-gates place--romney marsh,' said tom shoesmith. 'i've heard say the world's divided like into europe, ashy, afriky, ameriky, australy, an' romney marsh.' 'the marsh folk think so,' said hobden. 'i had a hem o' trouble to get my woman to leave it.' 'where did she come out of? i've forgot, ralph.' 'dymchurch under the wall,' hobden answered, a potato in his hand. 'then she'd be a pett--or a whitgift, would she?' 'whitgift.' hobden broke open the potato and ate it with the curious neatness of men who make most of their meals in the blowy open. 'she growed to be quite reasonable-like after livin' in the weald awhile, but our first twenty year or two she was odd-fashioned, no bounds. and she was a won'erful hand with bees.' he cut away a little piece of potato and threw it out to the door. 'ah! i've heard say the whitgifts could see further through a millstone than most,' said shoesmith. 'did she, now?' 'she was honest-innocent of any nigromancin',' said hobden. 'only she'd read signs and sinnifications out o' birds flyin', stars fallin', bees hivin', and such. an, she'd lie awake--listenin' for calls, she said.' 'that don't prove naught,' said tom. 'all marsh folk has been smugglers since time everlastin'. 'twould be in her blood to listen out o' nights.' 'nature-ally,' old hobden replied, smiling. 'i mind when there was smugglin' a sight nearer us than what the marsh be. but that wasn't my woman's trouble. 'twas a passel o' no-sense talk'--he dropped his voice--'about pharisees.' 'yes. i've heard marsh men belieft in 'em.'tom looked straight at the wide-eyed children beside bess. 'pharisees,' cried una. 'fairies? oh, i see!' 'people o' the hills,' said the bee boy, throwing half of his potato towards the door. 'there you be!' said hobden, pointing at him. my boy--he has her eyes and her out-gate sense. that's what she called 'em!' 'and what did you think of it all?' 'um--um,' hobden rumbled. 'a man that uses fields an' shaws after dark as much as i've done, he don't go out of his road excep' for keepers.' 'but settin' that aside?' said tom, coaxingly. 'i saw ye throw the good piece out-at-doors just now. do ye believe or--do ye?' 'there was a great black eye to that tater,' said hobden indignantly. 'my liddle eye didn't see un, then. it looked as if you meant it for--for any one that might need it. but settin' that aside, d'ye believe or--do ye?' 'i ain't sayin' nothin', because i've heard naught, an' i've see naught. but if you was to say there was more things after dark in the shaws than men, or fur, or feather, or fin, i dunno as i'd go far about to call you a liar. now turn again, tom. what's your say?' 'i'm like you. i say nothin'. but i'll tell you a tale, an' you can fit it as how you please.' 'passel o' no-sense stuff,' growled hobden, but he filled his pipe. 'the marsh men they call it dymchurch flit,'tom went on slowly. 'hap you have heard it?' 'my woman she've told it me scores o' times. dunno as i didn't end by belieftin' it--sometimes. hobden crossed over as he spoke, and sucked with his pipe at the yellow lanthorn flame. tom rested one great elbow on one great knee, where he sat among the coal. 'have you ever bin in the marsh?' he said to dan. 'only as far as rye, once,' dan answered. 'ah, that's but the edge. back behind of her there's steeples settin' beside churches, an' wise women settin' beside their doors, an' the sea settin' above the land, an' ducks herdin' wild in the diks' (he meant ditches). 'the marsh is just about riddled with diks an' sluices, an' tide-gates an' water-lets. you can hear 'em bubblin' an' grummelin' when the tide works in 'em, an' then you hear the sea rangin' left and right-handed all up along the wall. you've seen how flat she is--the marsh? you'd think nothin' easier than to walk eend-on acrost her? ah, but the diks an' the water-lets, they twists the roads about as ravelly as witch-yarn on the spindles. so ye get all turned round in broad daylight.' 'that's because they've dreened the waters into the diks,' said hobden. 'when i courted my woman the rushes was green--eh me! the rushes was green--an' the bailiff o' the marshes he rode up and down as free as the fog.' 'who was he?' said dan. 'why, the marsh fever an' ague. he've clapped me on the shoulder once or twice till i shook proper. but now the dreenin' off of the waters have done away with the fevers; so they make a joke, like, that the bailiff o' the marshes broke his neck in a dik. a won'erful place for bees an' ducks 'tis too.' 'an' old,' tom went on. 'flesh an' blood have been there since time everlastin' beyond. well, now, speakin' among themselves, the marsh men say that from time everlastin' beyond, the pharisees favoured the marsh above the rest of old england. i lay the marsh men ought to know. they've been out after dark, father an' son, smugglin' some one thing or t'other, since ever wool grew to sheep's backs. they say there was always a middlin' few pharisees to be seen on the marsh. impident as rabbits, they was. they'd dance on the nakid roads in the nakid daytime; they'd flash their liddle green lights along the diks, comin' an' goin', like honest smugglers. yes, an' times they'd lock the church doors against parson an' clerk of sundays.' 'that 'ud be smugglers layin' in the lace or the brandy till they could run it out o' the marsh. i've told my woman so,' said hobden. 'i'll lay she didn't belieft it, then--not if she was a whitgift. a won'erful choice place for pharisees, the marsh, by all accounts, till queen bess's father he come in with his reformatories.' 'would that be a act of parliament like?' hobden asked. 'sure-ly. can't do nothing in old england without act, warrant an' summons. he got his act allowed him, an', they say, queen bess's father he used the parish churches something shameful. just about tore the gizzards out of i dunnamany. some folk in england they held with 'en; but some they saw it different, an' it eended in 'em takin' sides an' burnin' each other no bounds, accordin' which side was top, time bein'. that tarrified the pharisees: for goodwill among flesh an' blood is meat an' drink to 'em, an' ill-will is poison.' 'same as bees,' said the bee boy. 'bees won't stay by a house where there's hating.' 'true,' said tom. 'this reformatories tarrified the pharisees same as the reaper goin' round a last stand o' wheat tarrifies rabbits. they packed into the marsh from all parts, and they says, "fair or foul, we must flit out o' this, for merry england's done with, an' we're reckoned among the images."' 'did they all see it that way?' said hobden. 'all but one that was called robin--if you've heard of him. what are you laughin' at?'tom turned to dan. 'the pharisees's trouble didn't tech robin, because he'd cleaved middlin' close to people, like. no more he never meant to go out of old england--not he; so he was sent messagin' for help among flesh an' blood. but flesh an' blood must always think of their own concerns, an' robin couldn't get through at 'em, ye see. they thought it was tide-echoes off the marsh.' 'what did you--what did the fai--pharisees want?' una asked. 'a boat, to be sure. their liddle wings could no more cross channel than so many tired butterflies. a boat an' a crew they desired to sail 'em over to france, where yet awhile folks hadn't tore down the images. they couldn't abide cruel canterbury bells ringin' to bulverhithe for more pore men an' women to be burnded, nor the king's proud messenger ridin' through the land givin' orders to tear down the images. they couldn't abide it no shape. nor yet they couldn't get their boat an' crew to flit by without leave an' good-will from flesh an' blood; an' flesh an' blood came an' went about its own business the while the marsh was swarvin' up, an' swarvin' up with pharisees from all england over, strivin' all means to get through at flesh an' blood to tell 'em their sore need... i don't know as you've ever heard say pharisees are like chickens?' 'my woman used to say that too,'said hobden, folding his brown arms. 'they be. you run too many chickens together, an' the ground sickens, like, an' you get a squat, an' your chickens die. same way, you crowd pharisees all in one place--they don't die, but flesh an' blood walkin' among 'em is apt to sick up an' pine off. they don't mean it, an' flesh an' blood don't know it, but that's the truth--as i've heard. the pharisees through bein' all stenched up an' frighted, an' trying' to come through with their supplications, they nature-ally changed the thin airs an' humours in flesh an' blood. it lay on the marsh like thunder. men saw their churches ablaze with the wildfire in the windows after dark; they saw their cattle scatterin' an' no man scarin'; their sheep flockin' an' no man drivin'; their horses latherin' an' no man leadin'; they saw the liddle low green lights more than ever in the dik-sides; they heard the liddle feet patterin' more than ever round the houses; an' night an' day, day an' night, 'twas all as though they were bein' creeped up on, an' hinted at by some one or other that couldn't rightly shape their trouble. oh, i lay they sweated! man an' maid, woman an' child, their nature done 'em no service all the weeks while the marsh was swarvin' up with pharisees. but they was flesh an' blood, an' marsh men before all. they reckoned the signs sinnified trouble for the marsh. or that the sea 'ud rear up against dymchurch wall an' they'd be drownded like old winchelsea; or that the plague was comin'. so they looked for the meanin' in the sea or in the clouds--far an' high up. they never thought to look near an' knee-high, where they could see naught. 'now there was a poor widow at dymchurch under the wall, which, lacking man or property, she had the more time for feeling; and she come to feel there was a trouble outside her doorstep bigger an' heavier than aught she'd ever carried over it. she had two sons--one born blind, an' t'other struck dumb through fallin' off the wall when he was liddle. they was men grown, but not wage-earnin', an' she worked for 'em, keepin' bees and answerin' questions.' 'what sort of questions?' said dan. 'like where lost things might be found, an' what to put about a crooked baby's neck, an' how to join parted sweethearts. she felt the trouble on the marsh same as eels feel thunder. she was a wise woman.' 'my woman was won'erful weather-tender, too,' said hobden. 'i've seen her brish sparks like off an anvil out of her hair in thunderstorms. but she never laid out to answer questions.' 'this woman was a seeker, like, an' seekers they sometimes find. one night, while she lay abed, hot an' achin', there come a dream an' tapped at her window, an' "widow whitgift," it said, "widow whitgift!" 'first, by the wings an' the whistlin', she thought it was peewits, but last she arose an' dressed herself, an' opened her door to the marsh, an' she felt the trouble an' the groanin' all about her, strong as fever an' ague, an' she calls: "what is it? oh, what is it?" 'then 'twas all like the frogs in the diks peepin'; then 'twas all like the reeds in the diks clip-clappin'; an' then the great tide-wave rummelled along the wall, an' she couldn't hear proper. 'three times she called, an' three times the tide-wave did her down. but she catched the quiet between, an' she cries out, "what is the trouble on the marsh that's been lying down with my heart an' arising with my body this month gone?" she felt a liddle hand lay hold on her gown-hem, an' she stooped to the pull o' that liddle hand.' tom shoesmith spread his huge fist before the fire and smiled at it as he went on. "'will the sea drown the marsh?" she says. she was a marsh woman first an' foremost. "'no," says the liddle voice. "sleep sound for all o' that." "'is the plague comin' to the marsh?" she says. them was all the ills she knowed. "'no. sleep sound for all o' that," says robin. 'she turned about, half mindful to go in, but the liddle voices grieved that shrill an' sorrowful she turns back, an' she cries: "if it is not a trouble of flesh an' blood, what can i do?" 'the pharisees cried out upon her from all round to fetch them a boat to sail to france, an' come back no more. "'there's a boat on the wall," she says, "but i can't push it down to the sea, nor sail it when 'tis there." "'lend us your sons," says all the pharisees. "give 'em leave an' good-will to sail it for us, mother--o mother!" "'one's dumb, an' t'other's blind," she says. "but all the dearer me for that; and you'll lose them in the big sea." the voices just about pierced through her; an' there was children's voices too. she stood out all she could, but she couldn't rightly stand against that. so she says: "if you can draw my sons for your job, i'd not hinder 'em. you can't ask no more of a mother." 'she saw them liddle green lights dance an' cross till she was dizzy; she heard them liddle feet patterin' by the thousand; she heard cruel canterbury bells ringing to bulverhithe, an' she heard the great tide-wave ranging along the wall. that was while the pharisees was workin' a dream to wake her two sons asleep: an' while she bit on her fingers she saw them two she'd bore come out an' pass her with never a word. she followed 'em, cryin' pitiful, to the old boat on the wall, an' that they took an' runned down to the sea. 'when they'd stepped mast an' sail the blind son speaks: "mother, we're waitin' your leave an' good-will to take them over."' tom shoesmith threw back his head and half shut his eyes. 'eh, me!' he said. 'she was a fine, valiant woman, the widow whitgift. she stood twistin' the eends of her long hair over her fingers, an' she shook like a poplar, makin' up her mind. the pharisees all about they hushed their children from cryin' an' they waited dumb-still. she was all their dependence. 'thout her leave an' good-will they could not pass; for she was the mother. so she shook like a aps-tree makin' up her mind. 'last she drives the word past her teeth, an' "go!" she says. "go with my leave an' goodwill." 'then i saw--then, they say, she had to brace back same as if she was wadin' in tide-water; for the pharisees just about flowed past her--down the beach to the boat, i dunnamany of 'em--with their wives an' childern an' valooables, all escapin' out of cruel old england. silver you could hear chinkin', an' liddle bundles hove down dunt on the bottom-boards, an' passels o' liddle swords an' shields raklin', an' liddle fingers an' toes scratchin' on the boatside to board her when the two sons pushed her off. that boat she sunk lower an' lower, but all the widow could see in it was her boys movin' hampered-like to get at the tackle. up sail they did, an' away they went, deep as a rye barge, away into the off-shore mists, an' the widow whitgift she sat down an' eased her grief till mornin' light.' 'i never heard she was all alone,' said hobden. 'i remember now. the one called robin, he stayed with her, they tell. she was all too grieevious to listen to his promises.' 'ah! she should ha' made her bargain beforehand. i allus told my woman so!'hobden cried. 'no. she loaned her sons for a pure love-loan, bein' as she sensed the trouble on the marshes, an' was simple good-willin' to ease it.' tom laughed softly. 'she done that. yes, she done that! from hithe to bulverhithe, fretty man an' maid, ailin' woman an' wailin' child, they took the advantage of the change in the thin airs just about as soon as the pharisees flitted. folks come out fresh an' shinin' all over the marsh like snails after wet. an' that while the widow whitgift sat grievin' on the wall. she might have belieft us--she might have trusted her sons would be sent back! she fussed, no bounds, when their boat come in after three days.' 'and, of course, the sons were both quite cured?' said una. 'no-o. that would have been out o' nature. she got 'em back as she sent 'em. the blind man he hadn't seen naught of anythin', an' the dumb man nature-ally he couldn't say aught of what he'd seen. i reckon that was why the pharisees pitched on 'em for the ferryin' job.' 'but what did you--what did robin promise the widow?' said dan. 'what did he promise, now?' tom pretended to think. 'wasn't your woman a whitgift, ralph? didn't she ever say?' 'she told me a passel o' no-sense stuff when he was born.' hobden pointed at his son. 'there was always to be one of 'em that could see further into a millstone than most.' 'me! that's me!'said the bee boy so suddenly that they all laughed. 'i've got it now!' cried tom, slapping his knee. 'so long as whitgift blood lasted, robin promised there would allers be one o' her stock that--that no trouble 'ud lie on, no maid 'ud sigh on, no night could frighten, no fright could harm, no harm could make sin, an' no woman could make a fool of.' 'well, ain't that just me?' said the bee boy, where he sat in the silver square of the great september moon that was staring into the oast-house door. 'they was the exact words she told me when we first found he wasn't like others. but it beats me how you known 'em,' said hobden. 'aha! there's more under my hat besides hair?' tom laughed and stretched himself. 'when i've seen these two young folk home, we'll make a night of old days, ralph, with passin' old tales--eh? an' where might you live?' he said, gravely, to dan. 'an' do you think your pa 'ud give me a drink for takin' you there, missy?' they giggled so at this that they had to run out. tom picked them both up, set one on each broad shoulder, and tramped across the ferny pasture where the cows puffed milky puffs at them in the moonlight. 'oh, puck! puck! i guessed you right from when you talked about the salt. how could you ever do it?' una cried, swinging along delighted. 'do what?'he said, and climbed the stile by the pollard oak. 'pretend to be tom shoesmith,' said dan, and they ducked to avoid the two little ashes that grow by the bridge over the brook. tom was almost running. 'yes. that's my name, mus' dan,' he said, hurrying over the silent shining lawn, where a rabbit sat by the big white-thorn near the croquet ground. 'here you be.' he strode into the old kitchen yard, and slid them down as ellen came to ask questions. 'i'm helping in mus' spray's oast-house,' he said to her. 'no, i'm no foreigner. i knowed this country 'fore your mother was born; an'--yes, it's dry work oastin', miss. thank you.' ellen went to get a jug, and the children went in--magicked once more by oak, ash, and thorn! a three-part song i'm just in love with all these three, the weald an' the marsh an' the down countrie; nor i don't know which i love the most, the weald or the marsh or the white chalk coast! i've buried my heart in a ferny hill, twix' a liddle low shaw an' a great high gill. oh, hop-bine yaller an' wood-smoke blue, i reckon you'll keep her middling true! i've loosed my mind for to out an' run on a marsh that was old when kings begun: oh, romney level an' brenzett reeds, i reckon you know what my mind needs! i've given my soul to the southdown grass, an' sheep-bells tinkled where you pass. oh, firle an' ditchling an' sails at sea, i reckon you keep my soul for me! the treasure and the law song of the fifth river when first by eden tree the four great rivers ran, to each was appointed a man her prince and ruler to be. but after this was ordained, (the ancient legends tell), there came dark israel, for whom no river remained. then he that is wholly just said to him: 'fling on the ground a handful of yellow dust, and a fifth great river shall run, mightier than these four, in secret the earth around; and her secret evermore shall be shown to thee and thy race. so it was said and done. and, deep in the veins of earth, and, fed by a thousand springs that comfort the market-place, or sap the power of kings, the fifth great river had birth, even as it was foretold-- the secret river of gold! and israel laid down his sceptre and his crown, to brood on that river bank, where the waters flashed and sank, and burrowed in earth and fell, and bided a season below; for reason that none might know, save only israel. he is lord of the last-- the fifth, most wonderful, flood. he hears her thunder past and her song is in his blood. he can foresay: 'she will fall,' for he knows which fountain dries behind which desert-belt a thousand leagues to the south. he can foresay: 'she will rise.' he knows what far snows melt along what mountain-wall a thousand leagues to the north. he snuffs the coming drouth as he snuffs the coming rain, he knows what each will bring forth, and turns it to his gain. a prince without a sword, a ruler without a throne; israel follows his quest. in every land a guest, of many lands a lord, in no land king is he. but the fifth great river keeps the secret of her deeps for israel alone, as it was ordered to be. now it was the third week in november, and the woods rang with the noise of pheasant-shooting. no one hunted that steep, cramped country except the village beagles, who, as often as not, escaped from their kennels and made a day of their own. dan and una found a couple of them towling round the kitchen-garden after the laundry cat. the little brutes were only too pleased to go rabbiting, so the children ran them all along the brook pastures and into little lindens farm-yard, where the old sow vanquished them--and up to the quarry-hole, where they started a fox. he headed for far wood, and there they frightened out all the pheasants, who were sheltering from a big beat across the valley. then the cruel guns began again, and they grabbed the beagles lest they should stray and get hurt. 'i wouldn't be a pheasant--in november--for a lot,' dan panted, as he caught folly by the neck. 'why did you laugh that horrid way?' 'i didn't,' said una, sitting on flora, the fat lady-dog. 'oh, look! the silly birds are going back to their own woods instead of ours, where they would be safe.' 'safe till it pleased you to kill them.' an old man, so tall he was almost a giant, stepped from behind the clump of hollies by volaterrae. the children jumped, and the dogs dropped like setters. he wore a sweeping gown of dark thick stuff, lined and edged with yellowish fur, and he bowed a bent-down bow that made them feel both proud and ashamed. then he looked at them steadily, and they stared back without doubt or fear. 'you are not afraid?' he said, running his hands through his splendid grey beard. 'not afraid that those men yonder'--he jerked his head towards the incessant pop-pop of the guns from the lower woods--'will do you hurt?' 'we-ell'--dan liked to be accurate, especially when he was shy--'old hobd--a friend of mine told me that one of the beaters got peppered last week--hit in the leg, i mean. you see, mr meyer will fire at rabbits. but he gave waxy garnett a quid--sovereign, i mean--and waxy told hobden he'd have stood both barrels for half the money.' 'he doesn't understand,'una cried, watching the pale, troubled face. 'oh, i wish--' she had scarcely said it when puck rustled out of the hollies and spoke to the man quickly in foreign words. puck wore a long cloak too--the afternoon was just frosting down--and it changed his appearance altogether. 'nay, nay!'he said at last. 'you did not understand the boy. a freeman was a little hurt, by pure mischance, at the hunting.' 'i know that mischance! what did his lord do? laugh and ride over him?' the old man sneered. 'it was one of your own people did the hurt, kadmiel.' puck's eyes twinkled maliciously. 'so he gave the freeman a piece of gold, and no more was said.' 'a jew drew blood from a christian and no more was said?' kadmiel cried. 'never! when did they torture him?' 'no man may be bound, or fined, or slain till he has been judged by his peers,' puck insisted. 'there is but one law in old england for jew or christian--the law that was signed at runnymede.' 'why, that's magna charta!' dan whispered. it was one of the few history dates that he could remember. kadmiel turned on him with a sweep and a whirr of his spicy-scented gown. 'dost thou know of that, babe?' he cried, and lifted his hands in wonder. 'yes,' said dan firmly. 'magna charta was signed by john, that henry the third put his heel upon. and old hobden says that if it hadn't been for her (he calls everything "her", you know), the keepers would have him clapped in lewes jail all the year round.' again puck translated to kadmiel in the strange, solemn-sounding language, and at last kadmiel laughed. 'out of the mouths of babes do we learn,' said he. 'but tell me now, and i will not call you a babe but a rabbi, why did the king sign the roll of the new law at runnymede? for he was a king.' dan looked sideways at his sister. it was her turn. 'because he jolly well had to,' said una softly. 'the barons made him.' 'nay,' kadmiel answered, shaking his head. 'you christians always forget that gold does more than the sword. our good king signed because he could not borrow more money from us bad jews.' he curved his shoulders as he spoke. 'a king without gold is a snake with a broken back, and'--his nose sneered up and his eyebrows frowned down--'it is a good deed to break a snake's back. that was my work,' he cried, triumphantly, to puck. 'spirit of earth, bear witness that that was my work!' he shot up to his full towering height, and his words rang like a trumpet. he had a voice that changed its tone almost as an opal changes colour--sometimes deep and thundery, sometimes thin and waily, but always it made you listen. 'many people can bear witness to that,' puck answered. 'tell these babes how it was done. remember, master, they do not know doubt or fear.' 'so i saw in their faces when we met,' said kadmiel. 'yet surely, surely they are taught to spit upon jews?' 'are they?' said dan, much interested. 'where at?' puck fell back a pace, laughing. 'kadmiel is thinking of king john's reign,' he explained. 'his people were badly treated then.' 'oh, we know that.' they answered, and (it was very rude of them, but they could not help it) they stared straight at kadmiel's mouth to see if his teeth were all there. it stuck in their lesson-memory that king john used to pull out jews' teeth to make them lend him money. kadmiel understood the look and smiled bitterly. 'no. your king never drew my teeth: i think, perhaps, i drew his. listen! i was not born among christians, but among moors--in spain--in a little white town under the mountains. yes, the moors are cruel, but at least their learned men dare to think. it was prophesied of me at my birth that i should be a lawgiver to a people of a strange speech and a hard language. we jews are always looking for the prince and the lawgiver to come. why not? my people in the town (we were very few) set me apart as a child of the prophecy--the chosen of the chosen. we jews dream so many dreams. you would never guess it to see us slink about the rubbish-heaps in our quarter; but at the day's end--doors shut, candles lit--aha! then we became the chosen again.' he paced back and forth through the wood as he talked. the rattle of the shot-guns never ceased, and the dogs whimpered a little and lay flat on the leaves. 'i was a prince. yes! think of a little prince who had never known rough words in his own house handed over to shouting, bearded rabbis, who pulled his ears and filliped his nose, all that he might learn--learn--learn to be king when his time came. he! such a little prince it was! one eye he kept on the stone-throwing moorish boys, and the other it roved about the streets looking for his kingdom. yes, and he learned to cry softly when he was hunted up and down those streets. he learned to do all things without noise. he played beneath his father's table when the great candle was lit, and he listened as children listen to the talk of his father's friends above the table. they came across the mountains, from out of all the world, for my prince's father was their counsellor. they came from behind the armies of sala-ud-din: from rome: from venice: from england. they stole down our alley, they tapped secretly at our door, they took off their rags, they arrayed themselves, and they talked to my father at the wine. all over the world the heathen fought each other. they brought news of these wars, and while he played beneath the table, my prince heard these meanly dressed ones decide between themselves how, and when, and for how long king should draw sword against king, and people rise up against people. why not? there can be no war without gold, and we jews know how the earth's gold moves with the seasons, and the crops, and the winds; circling and looping and rising and sinking away like a river--a wonderful underground river. how should the foolish kings know that while they fight and steal and kill?' the children's faces showed that they knew nothing at all as, with open eyes, they trotted and turned beside the long-striding old man. he twitched his gown over his shoulders, and a square plate of gold, studded with jewels, gleamed for an instant through the fur, like a star through flying snow. 'no matter,' he said. 'but, credit me, my prince saw peace or war decided not once, but many times, by the fall of a coin spun between a jew from bury and a jewess from alexandria, in his father's house, when the great candle was lit. such power had we jews among the gentiles. ah, my little prince! do you wonder that he learned quickly? why not?' he muttered to himself and went on: 'my trade was that of a physician. when i had learned it in spain i went to the east to find my kingdom. why not? a jew is as free as a sparrow--or a dog. he goes where he is hunted. in the east i found libraries where men dared to think--schools of medicine where they dared to learn. i was diligent in my business. therefore i stood before kings. i have been a brother to princes and a companion to beggars, and i have walked between the living and the dead. there was no profit in it. i did not find my kingdom. so, in the tenth year of my travels, when i had reached the uttermost eastern sea, i returned to my father's house. god had wonderfully preserved my people. none had been slain, none even wounded, and only a few scourged. i became once more a son in my father's house. again the great candle was lit; again the meanly apparelled ones tapped on our door after dusk; and again i heard them weigh out peace and war, as they weighed out the gold on the table. but i was not rich--not very rich. therefore, when those that had power and knowledge and wealth talked together, i sat in the shadow. why not? 'yet all my wanderings had shown me one sure thing, which is, that a king without money is like a spear without a head. he cannot do much harm. i said, therefore, to elias of bury, a great one among our people: "why do our people lend any more to the kings that oppress us?" "because," said elias, "if we refuse they stir up their people against us, and the people are tenfold more cruel than kings. if thou doubtest, come with me to bury in england and live as i live." 'i saw my mother's face across the candle flame, and i said, "i will come with thee to bury. maybe my kingdom shall be there." 'so i sailed with elias to the darkness and the cruelty of bury in england, where there are no learned men. how can a man be wise if he hate? at bury i kept his accounts for elias, and i saw men kill jews there by the tower. no--none laid hands on elias. he lent money to the king, and the king's favour was about him. a king will not take the life so long as there is any gold. this king--yes, john--oppressed his people bitterly because they would not give him money. yet his land was a good land. if he had only given it rest he might have cropped it as a christian crops his beard. but even that little he did not know, for god had deprived him of all understanding, and had multiplied pestilence, and famine, and despair upon the people. therefore his people turned against us jews, who are all people's dogs. why not? lastly the barons and the people rose together against the king because of his cruelties. nay--nay--the barons did not love the people, but they saw that if the king cut up and destroyed the common people, he would presently destroy the barons. they joined then, as cats and pigs will join to slay a snake. i kept the accounts, and i watched all these things, for i remembered the prophecy. 'a great gathering of barons (to most of whom we had lent money) came to bury, and there, after much talk and a thousand runnings-about, they made a roll of the new laws that they would force on the king. if he swore to keep those laws, they would allow him a little money. that was the king's god--money--to waste. they showed us the roll of the new laws. why not? we had lent them money. we knew all their counsels--we jews shivering behind our doors in bury.' he threw out his hands suddenly. 'we did not seek to be paid all in money. we sought power--power--power! that is our god in our captivity. power to use! 'i said to elias: "these new laws are good. lend no more money to the king: so long as he has money he will lie and slay the people." "'nay," said elias. "i know this people. they are madly cruel. better one king than a thousand butchers. i have lent a little money to the barons, or they would torture us, but my most i will lend to the king. he hath promised me a place near him at court, where my wife and i shall be safe." "'but if the king be made to keep these new laws," i said, "the land will have peace, and our trade will grow. if we lend he will fight again." "'who made thee a lawgiver in england?" said elias. "i know this people. let the dogs tear one another! i will lend the king ten thousand pieces of gold, and he can fight the barons at his pleasure." "'there are not two thousand pieces of gold in all england this summer," i said, for i kept the accounts, and i knew how the earth's gold moved--that wonderful underground river. elias barred home the windows, and, his hands about his mouth, he told me how, when he was trading with small wares in a french ship, he had come to the castle of pevensey.' 'oh!' said dan. 'pevensey again!' and looked at una, who nodded and skipped. 'there, after they had scattered his pack up and down the great hall, some young knights carried him to an upper room, and dropped him into a well in a wall, that rose and fell with the tide. they called him joseph, and threw torches at his wet head. why not?' 'why, of course!'cried dan. 'didn't you know it was--' puck held up his hand to stop him, and kadmiel, who never noticed, went on. 'when the tide dropped he thought he stood on old armour, but feeling with his toes, he raked up bar on bar of soft gold. some wicked treasure of the old days put away, and the secret cut off by the sword. i have heard the like before.' 'so have we,' una whispered. 'but it wasn't wicked a bit.' 'elias took a little of the stuff with him, and thrice yearly he would return to pevensey as a chapman, selling at no price or profit, till they suffered him to sleep in the empty room, where he would plumb and grope, and steal away a few bars. the great store of it still remained, and by long brooding he had come to look on it as his own. yet when we thought how we should lift and convey it, we saw no way. this was before the word of the lord had come to me. a walled fortress possessed by normans; in the midst a forty-foot tide-well out of which to remove secretly many horse-loads of gold! hopeless! so elias wept. adah, his wife, wept too. she had hoped to stand beside the queen's christian tiring-maids at court when the king should give them that place at court which he had promised. why not? she was born in england--an odious woman. 'the present evil to us was that elias, out of his strong folly, had, as it were, promised the king that he would arm him with more gold. wherefore the king in his camp stopped his ears against the barons and the people. wherefore men died daily. adah so desired her place at court, she besought elias to tell the king where the treasure lay, that the king might take it by force, and--they would trust in his gratitude. why not? this elias refused to do, for he looked on the gold as his own. they quarrelled, and they wept at the evening meal, and late in the night came one langton--a priest, almost learned--to borrow more money for the barons. elias and adah went to their chamber.' kadmiel laughed scornfully in his beard. the shots across the valley stopped as the shooting party changed their ground for the last beat. 'so it was i, not elias,' he went on quietly, 'that made terms with langton touching the fortieth of the new laws.' 'what terms?' said puck quickly. 'the fortieth of the great charter says: "to none will we sell, refuse, or delay right or justice."' 'true, but the barons had written first: to no free man. it cost me two hundred broad pieces of gold to change those narrow words. langton, the priest, understood. "jew though thou art," said he, "the change is just, and if ever christian and jew came to be equal in england thy people may thank thee." then he went out stealthily, as men do who deal with israel by night. i think he spent my gift upon his altar. why not? i have spoken with langton. he was such a man as i might have been if--if we jews had been a people. but yet, in many things, a child. 'i heard elias and adah abovestairs quarrel, and, knowing the woman was the stronger, i saw that elias would tell the king of the gold and that the king would continue in his stubbornness. therefore i saw that the gold must be put away from the reach of any man. of a sudden, the word of the lord came to me saying, "the morning is come, o thou that dwellest in the land."' kadmiel halted, all black against the pale green sky beyond the wood--a huge robed figure, like the moses in the picture-bible. 'i rose. i went out, and as i shut the door on that house of foolishness, the woman looked from the window and whispered, "i have prevailed on my husband to tell the king!" i answered: "there is no need. the lord is with me." 'in that hour the lord gave me full understanding of all that i must do; and his hand covered me in my ways. first i went to london, to a physician of our people, who sold me certain drugs that i needed. you shall see why. thence i went swiftly to pevensey. men fought all around me, for there were neither rulers nor judges in the abominable land. yet when i walked by them they cried out that i was one ahasuerus, a jew, condemned, as they believe, to live for ever, and they fled from me every-ways. thus the lord saved me for my work, and at pevensey i bought me a little boat and moored it on the mud beneath the marsh-gate of the castle. that also god showed me.' he was as calm as though he were speaking of some stranger, and his voice filled the little bare wood with rolling music. 'i cast'--his hand went to his breast, and again the strange jewel gleamed--'i cast the drugs which i had prepared into the common well of the castle. nay, i did no harm. the more we physicians know, the less do we do. only the fool says: "i dare." i caused a blotched and itching rash to break out upon their skins, but i knew it would fade in fifteen days. i did not stretch out my hand against their life. they in the castle thought it was the plague, and they ran out, taking with them their very dogs. 'a christian physician, seeing that i was a jew and a stranger, vowed that i had brought the sickness from london. this is the one time i have ever heard a christian leech speak truth of any disease. thereupon the people beat me, but a merciful woman said: "do not kill him now. push him into our castle with his plague, and if, as he says, it will abate on the fifteenth day, we can kill him then." why not? they drove me across the drawbridge of the castle, and fled back to their booths. thus i came to be alone with the treasure.' 'but did you know this was all going to happen just right?' said una. 'my prophecy was that i should be a lawgiver to a people of a strange land and a hard speech. i knew i should not die. i washed my cuts. i found the tide-well in the wall, and from sabbath to sabbath i dove and dug there in that empty, christian-smelling fortress. he! i spoiled the egyptians! he! if they had only known! i drew up many good loads of gold, which i loaded by night into my boat. there had been gold dust too, but that had been washed out by the tides.' 'didn't you ever wonder who had put it there?' said dan, stealing a glance at puck's calm, dark face under the hood of his gown. puck shook his head and pursed his lips. 'often; for the gold was new to me,' kadmiel replied. 'i know the golds. i can judge them in the dark; but this was heavier and redder than any we deal in. perhaps it was the very gold of parvaim. eh, why not? it went to my heart to heave it on to the mud, but i saw well that if the evil thing remained, or if even the hope of finding it remained, the king would not sign the new laws, and the land would perish.' 'oh, marvel!' said puck, beneath his breath, rustling in the dead leaves. 'when the boat was loaded i washed my hands seven times, and pared beneath my nails, for i would not keep one grain. i went out by the little gate where the castle's refuse is thrown. i dared not hoist sail lest men should see me; but the lord commanded the tide to bear me carefully, and i was far from land before the morning.' 'weren't you afraid?' said una. 'why? there were no christians in the boat. at sunrise i made my prayer, and cast the gold--all--all that gold--into the deep sea! a king's ransom--no, the ransom of a people! when i had loosed hold of the last bar, the lord commanded the tide to return me to a haven at the mouth of a river, and thence i walked across a wilderness to lewes, where i have brethren. they opened the door to me, and they say--i had not eaten for two days--they say that i fell across the threshold, crying: "i have sunk an army with horsemen in the sea!"' 'but you hadn't,' said una. 'oh, yes! i see! you meant that king john might have spent it on that?' 'even so,' said kadmiel. the firing broke out again close behind them. the pheasants poured over the top of a belt of tall firs. they could see young mr meyer, in his new yellow gaiters, very busy and excited at the end of the line, and they could hear the thud of the falling birds. 'but what did elias of bury do?' puck demanded. 'he had promised money to the king.' kadmiel smiled grimly. 'i sent him word from london that the lord was on my side. when he heard that the plague had broken out in pevensey, and that a jew had been thrust into the castle to cure it, he understood my word was true. he and adah hurried to lewes and asked me for an accounting. he still looked on the gold as his own. i told them where i had laid it, and i gave them full leave to pick it up... eh, well! the curses of a fool and the dust of a journey are two things no wise man can escape... but i pitied elias! the king was wroth with him because he could not lend; the barons were wroth too because they heard that he would have lent to the king; and adah was wroth with him because she was an odious woman. they took ship from lewes to spain. that was wise!' 'and you? did you see the signing of the law at runnymede?' said puck, as kadmiel laughed noiselessly. 'nay. who am i to meddle with things too high for me? i returned to bury, and lent money on the autumn crops. why not?' there was a crackle overhead. a cock-pheasant that had sheered aside after being hit spattered down almost on top of them, driving up the dry leaves like a shell. flora and folly threw themselves at it; the children rushed forward, and when they had beaten them off and smoothed down the plumage kadmiel had disappeared. 'well,' said puck calmly, 'what did you think of it? weland gave the sword! the sword gave the treasure, and the treasure gave the law. it's as natural as an oak growing.' 'i don't understand. didn't he know it was sir richard's old treasure?' said dan. 'and why did sir richard and brother hugh leave it lying about? and--and--' 'never mind,' said una politely. 'he'll let us come and go and look and know another time. won't you, puck?' 'another time maybe,' puck answered. 'brr! it's cold--and late. i'll race you towards home!' they hurried down into the sheltered valley. the sun had almost sunk behind cherry clack, the trodden ground by the cattle-gates was freezing at the edges, and the new-waked north wind blew the night on them from over the hills. they picked up their feet and flew across the browned pastures, and when they halted, panting in the steam of their own breath, the dead leaves whirled up behind them. there was oak and ash and thorn enough in that year-end shower to magic away a thousand memories. so they trotted to the brook at the bottom of the lawn, wondering why flora and folly had missed the quarry-hole fox. old hobden was just finishing some hedge-work. they saw his white smock glimmer in the twilight where he faggoted the rubbish. 'winter, he's come, i reckon, mus' dan,' he called. 'hard times now till heffle cuckoo fair. yes, we'll all be glad to see the old woman let the cuckoo out o' the basket for to start lawful spring in england.' they heard a crash, and a stamp and a splash of water as though a heavy old cow were crossing almost under their noses. hobden ran forward angrily to the ford. 'gleason's bull again, playin' robin all over the farm! oh, look, mus' dan--his great footmark as big as a trencher. no bounds to his impidence! he might count himself to be a man or--or somebody--' a voice the other side of the brook boomed: 'i wonder who his cloak would turn when puck had led him round, or where those walking fires would burn--' then the children went in singing 'farewell, rewards and fairies' at the tops of their voices. they had forgotten that they had not even said good-night to puck. the children's song land of our birth, we pledge to thee our love and toil in the years to be; when we are grown and take our place as men and women with our race. father in heaven who lovest all, oh, help thy children when they call; that they may build from age to age an undefiled heritage. teach us to bear the yoke in youth, with steadfastness and careful truth; that, in our time, thy grace may give the truth whereby the nations live. teach us to rule ourselves alway, controlled and cleanly night and day; that we may bring, if need arise, no maimed or worthless sacrifice. teach us to look in all our ends, on thee for judge, and not our friends; that we, with thee, may walk uncowed by fear or favour of the crowd. teach us the strength that cannot seek, by deed or thought, to hurt the weak; that, under thee, we may possess man's strength to comfort man's distress. teach us delight in simple things, and mirth that has no bitter springs; forgiveness free of evil done, and love to all men 'neath the sun! land of our birth, our faith, our pride, for whose dear sake our fathers died; o motherland, we pledge to thee head, heart and hand through the years to be!