The marvellous land of Snergs
“Yes, wasn’t it? But as I say, these are very dear little things,
especially the little girl. Do you know,” he went on chattily, “it used
to be a saying amongst us in the bad old days that the lighter the hair
the tenderer the meat--however, I don’t suppose that interests you.”
“Not a bit.”
“Of course not. But I have taken quite a strong liking to these little
ones. The little girl is very pretty, and they are both well formed.
Not fat exactly. I should describe them as well filled out. Chubby, if
you understand my meaning.”
Gorbo slipped down from the window and went down the ladder in a
leisurely way. “Tidy up the place properly,” he ordered as he went.
Golithos obediently went on messing about, crooning a little song about
a rose that loved a butterfly and faded away.
GORBO’S DOUBTS
It will probably occur to the thoughtful reader at this point that a
change had come over the character of Gorbo. A sense of responsibility,
mingled with self-reproach, had brought forth qualities hitherto
unsuspected, and though he was to some extent losing his natural desire
to please all whom he met by conciliatory speech and helpful ways,
he was gaining in ability to make quick decisions, as also in verbal
fluency and a capacity for what is known among our famed comedians as
back-chat.
He found the children in the cabbage patch trying to amuse themselves
with Tiger, but not succeeding very well because they were getting
very tired of this dismal place. Their surroundings were horrible--all
nettles and cheap-looking vegetables and rank grass and stones, and
a high wall (on which were lots of snails) shutting out everything
but the sky. Sylvia took the puppy to show to the cow, which was the
only nice thing in the place and which lived in a rotten old shed in a
corner, and Gorbo then had a chance to talk to Joe.
“Joe,” he said, “I don’t want to frighten Sylvia, but you’re a man like
me. It seems to me that this is not a healthy place to stay in very
long. In the first place we’ll get bored to screaming fits, and in the
second place I’m having doubts of old Golithos.”
“Oo-er!” said Joe, now thoroughly startled.
“Yes, I’m beginning to think he’s not so reformed as he thinks he is.
Of course it may be only my fancy, but I’m not going to take any risks,
and you and Sylvia must keep close by me always. We’ll have to stay
here a little while because, though it’s plain that he won’t be able
to tell us how to get those little doors open, that old witch may come
along at any time, and then I can get it out of her. I’ll give her my
drinking-horn to tell us how; it’s the only thing I’ve got that’s worth
anything, but it’s got silver on it and perhaps it’ll do. But if it’s
not enough I’m afraid Sylvia will have to give over her little coral
necklace. I don’t know what witchs’ charges are, but I should say the
two together would be plenty.”
“But won’t it be awfully risky staying here?” asked Joe. This was
becoming rather more of an adventure than he had bargained for.
“Not so much, because you won’t go out of my sight and I’ve always
got my bow tucked under my arm. Of course I could make it quite safe
by sending an arrow through his hairy old throat, but somehow I don’t
quite like to do it until I’m dead certain sure. But don’t you worry,
Joe. And don’t let Sylvia know.”
The day wore on. They had a light supper of cold sliced turnips and
some of the milk that was left over from the midday feast. They gave
a third part of the milk to Tiger in order to moisten some very hard
crusts that Golithos found for him. Tiger did not worry, it was
quantity he wanted, not quality, and his little abdomen began to take
on bold curves again.
GOLITHOS IS TEMPTED
The night passed without trouble. The children slept soundly on their
straw; Gorbo had made his bed on top of the trap-door so they felt safe
enough. But in the morning there was more than a hint that some good
old-fashioned trouble was coming.
Said Golithos to Gorbo (taking him quietly aside by the arm), “Would
you oblige me by keeping these dear little children always close by
you?”
Said Gorbo to Golithos (removing his arm), “I’m going to. But not
particularly to oblige you. What’s the little game?”
“It is no little game; it is something more serious. You see I have a
horrid fear that I may go back to my old disgraceful ways. The sight of
these dear little plump things is a very, very great temptation to me,
and I want you to help me to fight against it. I don’t want you to go
away, because if I don’t have the temptation there will be no credit in
conquering it--and I really hope and believe that I will be able to. Do
you know that last night I wanted to have a look at them asleep, but I
couldn’t open the trap-door. There seemed to be something heavy on it.”
“There was,” said Gorbo.
“I thought so. And then, do you know, I came down and sat thinking
about them, and after a time I found myself sharpening a big knife in
an absent-minded way. It gave me quite a shock. Now promise me that you
will help me to overcome this temptation.”
“Oh, I’ll help you,” replied Gorbo.
He called to Sylvia and Joe to come down and to bring Tiger, and then
he went with them down the steps to the door in the outer wall.
“Come and open this door, Golithos,” he called.
“Oh, you’re surely not thinking of leaving me!” exclaimed Golithos,
clumping down after them. “I shall be greatly upset if you run away
like that.”
Gorbo jerked out an arrow and laid it on his bow.
“You’ll be more upset in a moment perhaps,” he said, “if that door
isn’t opened before I count ten there’ll be three of these sticking out
of your silly fat head.”
Golithos jumped for the door and had it open just as Gorbo had counted
up to six. As the children passed out, shrinking away from him, he bent
down and held out his hand to them.
“Good-bye, little dears,” he said. “Won’t you shake hands with an old
reformed person? Oh, this _is_ unkind!”
Gorbo put his arrow back in the quiver and stood for a moment looking
up at him. “You stick to watercress,” he said tauntingly. “Watercress
and cold water. A slice of mangel-wurzel for Christmas. That’s about
your form.”
“You have hurt me,” said Golithos, drawing himself to his full height
(seven feet, one inch). His tone was not without a certain dignity.
“Get inside!” shouted Gorbo, slipping out an arrow again. “I’m not so
sure I shan’t----”
But Golithos had scuttled in and banged the door and locked it. They
walked along a narrow stony track that led towards some rising ground.
Looking back, they saw the head of Golithos peeping over the top of his
wall. So far as they could judge at that distance it had a wistful look.
BEYOND THE TOWER
When they had got to the other side of the rising ground and the tower
was hidden from view, Gorbo paused in order to take off his cap and
tear his hair a little. Then he embraced both children remorsefully,
and they gave him such words of comfort as occurred to them.
“The next question,” he said, rousing himself, “is the question of
what we are to do next. If I knew where Mother Meldrum lived, we’d go
straight there at once. But I don’t know, and it’d be hopeless my going
back to ask Golithos. I’ve scared what little wits he had clean out of
him.”
“Perhaps we’ll meet somebody if we go on walking,” suggested Sylvia.
“Then we can ask where she lives.”
“Yes, let’s,” said Joe. “I’d like to meet a witch. We’ve just had one
nice adventure and perhaps we’ll have another. Think of it, Sylvia!
We are the only two kids in the world who have ever been in an ogre’s
castle--I mean the only two who have ever got out of it afterwards.
Won’t the others be jealous!”
“Yes, Joe, but I wish we could go back to them. It’s getting too
beastly like one of those tales Norah told me.”
They walked on and on and on, over a plain which was dotted here and
there with clumps of trees but which showed nothing else of interest,
until they came to what looked like a road, and this they followed for
a couple of hours. Then, suddenly, they saw coming across the plain
a man on a horse. The strange thing was that both man and horse were
shining all over in the bright morning sun, and they stopped and looked
in wonder.
“It’s a knight!” Joe exclaimed. “Look, Sylvia! Look at his shining
armour and his long lance! I’ll bet it’s swift and keen.” (Miss Watkyns
used to sing “I fear no foe” at the Saturday evening concerts.)
“I hope his heart is pure,” said Sylvia, rather anxiously. (Miss
Ffolijambe used to recite “Sir Galahad”.)
Gorbo said nothing, but he tried his bowstring to see if it was all
right.
THE KNIGHT-ERRANT
The man in armour pulled up his horse when he reached the road a
little way ahead and waited for them. Both children found him rather a
disappointment when they came near for he did not seem quite up to the
standard of knights in books. It is true that he had shining armour and
the lance as long as a barge pole and so forth, but it seemed that his
mail suit had not been made to measure. The breastplate was tied on to
the back part with what looked like bootlaces, and they did not join
well; bits of cloth showed at the sides. The armour on his legs was on
the large size and rattled whenever he moved. His helmet also was much
too big and it wobbled. The plume, though not a bad plume, should have
been smaller to give a good effect. The horse was big and white and
hairy, and had a thing like a spiked saucepan lid on its brow.
As they came near he raised the visor of his helmet and stared
haughtily at them. From what they could see of his face he had peepy
eyes, a long nose and rather puddingy cheeks.
“Who are ye?” he asked in an important way, “and wherefore come ye----”
here his voice was cut off suddenly, for the visor had slipped down
like a trap and he had to struggle with it.
He got it up at last: “As I was saying, wherefore come ye thus
unattended on the King’s ways, two children and a dwarf?”
“Who are you calling a dwarf?” said Gorbo disagreeably. “Dwarf
yourself!”
The knight gave him a long contemptuous stare in reply, a stare that
might have lasted a long time if the visor had not come down again and
put an end to it.
“Temper!” said the knight sharply when he had got his visor open.
“But we will let it pass. Tell me, have you any wrongs to redress?
Sir Percival am I, sworn to succour damsels, to slay giants, wasters,
caitiffs and perishers, to rescue----”
“As I was saying,” he went on lifting his visor again and propping it
up with one hand, “I am sworn to rescue the oppressed, to right wrongs,
and to--well, to generally make things happy all round.”
“That’s very nice of you,” said Gorbo. “Then perhaps you’ll kindly tell
us the way to the witch----”
“Which witch?” interrupted Sir Percival.
“Mother Meldrum. If you’ll kindly----”
“Ay, she is known as a parlous witch. She lives in the dark woods where
fly the large black bats, all alone with her large black cats, and she
gathers herbs o’ moonlight nights and brews foul potions to harm honest
folk. Which means that I am not going there with you.”
“Who asked you to?” said Gorbo. “I only want to know the way there.”
“Then in that case you had better travel with me, for I am going within
a mile or so of the dark woods. And if anybody should try to oppress
you on the way, why, I shall be there to defend you.”
“That will be jolly,” said Gorbo. “Many thanks. But what about these
little ones? Can’t you give them a lift--one in front and one behind?”
“H’m!” The knight thought over this for a time. “I’d like to oblige, of
course--especially as I am sworn to do good deeds--but wouldn’t that
make me look rather ridiculous?”