The marvellous land of Snergs
sniffed, “you’re the flabbiest thing in ogres I’ve ever met, and I’ve
met a few in my time. Do you mean to say that if I’d shown them to you
this morning you’d have done the King in?”
“Yes,” he replied eagerly, “that’s it. Just a glimpse of those
nice little well-filled-out children--which you promised me so
faithfully--would have made me quite anxious to do it. But I never even
got a peep at them,” he went on pathetically. “You must own it’s hard
on me.”
“I’ll get even with the funny man,” growled Mother Meldrum. “Well,
suppose I bring them both back? Will you go straight off at once as
soon as you’ve had a look at them and do what I want?”
“Oh, yes! I’ll just have one good look at them and I’ll go at once.
Of course if I could have a piece of one first, just to encourage me
properly, so to speak----”
“Well, you won’t. You’ll see them when I’ve got them safely here and
then you’ll be off, or you’ll see what I’m like when really annoyed.
Did you bring your axe with you?”
“Yes, I’ve got it here.” He went to a corner of the kitchen and
produced a mighty battle-axe and balanced it in his hand. “Many’s the
stout man-at-arms I’ve laid out with this in the old days.”
“The days when you had some pluck, you mean.”
“Yes, that’s it. But my pluck’s coming back. And if you give me a nice
roast pig for dinner, it’ll come back more. And when I see those dear
little children waiting for me, it’ll fix it for keeps.” His eyes
were rolling and his teeth were showing fiercely now, and he handled
the axe, which any other man could scarcely lift, as if it were a
medium-sized chopper.
“Yes,” said Mother Meldrum, after watching him for a moment, “I think
that’s the way it will have to be. I see you need some practical
encouragement, being the worm you are, so wait here until I come back
with them. Keep your courage up by thinking about them. It’s taken a
long time to work you up to this, Golithos,” she went on with a fierce
laugh, “but I think I’ve done it at last. You’ll get what you want, and
I’ll get what _I_ want--_Revenge_!”
She sprang up and did a hideous dance of joy round the kitchen,
footing it with an agility that seemed marvellous considering her
years. Golithos, whose long dormant savagery was awakening fast,
laughed long and boisterously. Truly a terrible scene. Let us not
linger over it.
CAPTIVES ON THE ROAD
It is fortunate for children (and for grown-ups too if they can
manage it) when they do not concern themselves greatly about the
future possibilities of a calamity. Sylvia and Joe were of this
kind--especially Joe--and what chiefly troubled them as they rode along
in front of their guards was the separation from their friend Gorbo,
who if he could not have actually saved them from this happening, would
at least have been comfort to them on the road; the fact that they were
being carried captives to a monarch of whom they had heard distressing
accounts seemed less of an evil, for its troubles were connected with
the future, and the future is always some distance ahead.
They were not treated badly, and they were allowed to talk with the
men-at-arms with whom they rode, but in a low voice because otherwise
it would have been bad for discipline. Baldry rode at some distance
from them so they got no chance to speak to him. The leader had allowed
him to go unmuzzled after a time on the condition that he did not talk,
and Baldry passed the time singing quietly to himself songs about cruel
fate and other melancholy subjects. He had evidently resigned himself
to whatever might befall.
The leader--whose name they learned was Sir Giles--asked the children
some questions as to how they came to be with the King’s jester, but
though they answered him truthfully and told him all about Watkyns Bay
(which he had never heard of) and the Snergs (of whom he had heard very
little and that little not good) and their strange adventures, he could
make nothing of it; and he finally said that it defeated him entirely
and that abler heads than his must solve the mystery.
As they went on the country became rather more populated; there were
farms and windmills and so forth, and here and there a small castle or
moated grange. They halted for about half an hour at an inn to rest the
horses and have breakfast; Sir Giles told the host to send the bill in
to the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Sylvia and Joe had each a plate of
little hot fish, rather like sardines, and a bowl of milk, and this
cheered them up greatly. Baldry interrupted his sad crooning to eat two
chops and drink a pot of ale. Then he went on with a new song about his
being Fortune’s toy. Baldry wanted some understanding.
It was well on in the afternoon when they came round the corner of a
thick wood and saw the town close at hand. It reminded the children of
a picture of a mediæval town on a coloured calendar that Miss Scadging
had brought from London last year. The houses had heavy crossed timbers
and high pitched roofs, and the streets were paved with huge cobble
stones like grey footballs. They passed through a gate with big towers
and by quaint little shops and taverns where people sat outside on
benches and drank out of large pots, or else leaned against posts.
There seemed to be a good deal of spare time in the town, and people
came clustering round to stare at the children; but when Baldry was
recognized (he had for some reason seated himself facing the horse’s
tail as soon as they reached the town) there was great excitement, and
they called other people to come and see. But Sir Giles ordered them
to stand back like good fellows and make way for the King’s men, and
the procession went clattering down the street until it halted in the
courtyard of the royal palace.
It was indeed an anxious moment for Joe and Sylvia as they were lifted
down and led through into a lofty hall. At first they had only a
confused impression of brilliant costumes and high pointed head-dresses
of ladies and the crimson legs of small pages and general gorgeousness.
Compared to the palace of King Merse II this was as a house in Park
Lane, W. is to a maisonnette in Poplar, E., and they felt very small
and untidy and of no importance at all as they went with Sir Giles
(Sylvia carrying the puppy) through these high-class surroundings and
halted before a throne on which was seated one who wore a kingly crown.
At last they were in the presence of the dreaded monarch.
KING KUL I
It would be well here to point out to my readers (and especially the
younger ones) that rumour is more often contradicted than confirmed by
experience, and to enlarge on the moral conveyed. The reason against
my doing so at length is the fear that I may become a little tedious,
so I will merely state that, to the great surprise and relief of the
children, there were no signs of ruthlessness about the King.
He was of great girth and he had a flowing grey beard, and in these
particulars he bore out Baldry’s description of him. But his expression
was one of benevolence and good humour and he smiled on the children
with what, if it had not been blent with a touch of native majesty,
might have been described as a sort of fatuous fatherliness.
He was richly though tastefully arrayed. His doublet was of three (or
four) piled velvet, green and embroidered with gold, and his hose were
shrimp pink, a colour he much affected. From his shoulders hung a
sky-blue robe lined with ermine, and the crown on his partially bald
head was decorated with fine repoussé work. Never had the children
conceived such magnificence in a man’s dress, and they stared in wonder
and admiration.
“Welcome, Sir Giles,” he said, ignoring Baldry, who went down on his
knees beside the children. “Tell me who are these little ones and how
came you to bring them together with this rudesby.”
“‘Rudesby’ is rather good,” observed Baldry in an interested tone.
“I found them travelling with the knave, sire,” replied Sir Giles. “And
as I could not leave them alone in the forest I brought them also. But
I can make nothing of their tale, sire. It appears to me such as might
be told by a minstrel who had been too long at the wine-pot. A tale of
a certain Countess Watkyns in that terror-haunted land beyond the deep
river, and of many millions of other children, and of Snergs who are
friendly with them. I leave it to your Majesty to judge, for I can make
nothing of it.”
“Ah, you’re slow, that’s what’s the matter,” remarked Baldry.
“Silence, thou villain!” roared the King.
Baldry clapped both hands over his mouth with a look of extreme terror.
“Snergs, did you say?” went on the King. “Could it be possible that
these little innocents know aught of that fierce and cruel race?”
“Please, sir,” said Joe, who felt that he must defend his friends,
holding up one hand according to the custom of Watkyns Bay in class
time. “Please, sir, we’re all very fond of the Snergs. They’re not
fierce at all.”
“Not fierce, say you, little man! Nay, that passes understanding. There
must be more in this than meets the eye.”
“You mean the ear, of course,” said Baldry.
“Remove me this pestilent ass!” cried the King. “We will judge his case
at a fitter time.”
Four men-at-arms surrounded the jester and, at a word of command from
Sir Giles, marched out with him. His really incredible folly caused
him to drop on all fours and go out creeping swiftly between them;
doubtless he gathered some encouragement from the smothered laughter of
the more thoughtless courtiers.
Put to some extent at his ease by the King’s kind manner, Joe told
the tale of their wanderings and adventures. He explained as well as
he could and with Sylvia’s assistance, the way of living at Watkyns
Bay, the general nature of the country beyond the deep river, and the
amiable character of the Snergs, with whom the Society lived on such
satisfactory terms. The King listened in deep wonder.
“Can it be,” he said, turning to the court, “that we have been in
ignorance of the true nature of things beyond the river?--that we have
accepted without question the traditions handed down to us, and are now
to be corrected by these babes? Can it be----” He went on moralising in
most approved fashion, and the courtiers made acquiescing murmurs, as
was expected of them.
“But one thing is clear,” he went on. “We must pay instant attention to
this Golithos, who appears to give indications of becoming a menace,
and also to Mother Meldrum. She has had a good deal of rope in the
past, and perchance it is the time to give her a bit more, though in a
different sense of the word. They must be brought here for judgment at
once. That shall be your next job, Sir Giles.”
“Oh, very well, sire,” replied Sir Giles, but not very heartily.
“And that reminds me,” said the King. “Your betrothed, the Lady
Ermyntrude, can look after these little ones, for the hour is late,
and we would have them to sit at our evening meal. So fair damsel,” he
continued to a young lady standing nearby, “take charge of this little
golden-haired maid and this sturdy male infant and see that they be
given a change of raiment and also (for they _are_ a bit grubby) the
refreshment of the bath.”
The young lady, who was richly dressed, and extremely pretty (her
one defect was a touch of indefinable sauciness) came forward and
curtseyed. She then gave a hand to each of the children and led them
forth.
A CHANGE OF CLOTHES AT LAST
With the assistance of a couple of maids, Sylvia and Joe were soon
tubbed and scrubbed and then seated, each wrapped in a sheet, awaiting
the decision of the Lady Ermyntrude, who took clothes seriously. In
time she selected what she considered suitable from the royal wardrobe
(things that the royal children had grown out of) and began to dress