The marvellous land of Snergs
last to carry Sylvia pick-a-back, while Joe had to carry the puppy, who
was getting his pads sore with so much travel. But just when it seemed
to them that there would never be any end to the journey, to their
great joy they saw from a slight eminence a cluster of high-peaked red
roofs, which Gorbo told them (rather unnecessarily I think) was the
town.
THE TOWN
As none of the children had ever been seen in the town before, the
arrival of Joe and Sylvia was the signal for a good deal of fuss and
feathers. Snergs rushed out of their houses into the street and swarmed
on the roofs and climbed about, and babies were held on high so that
they might see. Some clever ones rushed to the town belfry and rang a
peal, others got busy with strips of coloured cloth and had them rigged
across the street in no time. The four brightest got out the town drums
and went to meet them.
The crowd became dense, and considerate persons shouted “Stand back!
Give them air!” Joe and Sylvia felt rather shy and uncomfortable at
all the display, but Gorbo stepped out proudly for he was beginning to
think this was a far, far better thing than he had ever done. And so,
amid the shouts of the populace, with music before them, they went up
the street.
Gorbo was full of hope that the King would see great merit in this his
doing and that he would get a decoration for it. Nearly everybody had
one of some sort or another, and though he did not go so far as to
expect one of the best he hoped he would at least get the Order of
the Brazen Nutmeg. He was soon undeceived. The Master of the Household
came up to him with a stern look and bade him follow him to the King’s
presence and explain what was his little game. Then he gave a hand to
each of the children and led them to the Royal House.
THE ROYAL HOUSE
The Royal House is the only building in the town that stands without
being propped up by another building, and naturally this gives it an
imposing appearance. Picture to yourself columns of quaintly carved
oak surrounding an audience chamber on the ground floor and supporting
the spreading-out part of the stories above. On the first floor are
the private apartments, the dining-hall (with a sufficient minstrel’s
gallery giving elbow room for four minstrels to perform the most
energetic pieces) and the room where the regalia is kept in a padded
box. On the floor above live the Court officials, three of them, and
on the third or attic floor, are rooms for the domestic staff and
one large room containing odd matters that are bound to collect in
any large household, such as chairs wanting a leg, damaged pieces of
armour, swords with loose hilts, old pairs of bellows, and the like.
The kitchen is in another building, connected to the dining-hall by an
overhead passage which is covered in so that the victuals will not get
chilled on the way. Altogether a neat and commodious dwelling for a
king in a small way of business.
THE KING OF THE SNERGS
The King, Merse II, was quite an agreeable looking man, with the
typical chubby face of the Snergs framed in a fringe of black whiskers
that resembled chinchilla. He was fully four feet in height, broad and
inclined to stoutness. He bade the children be seated on either side of
him and spoke to them kindly, hoping that they were not too tired with
the journey and inquiring politely after the health of Miss Watkyns and
the other ladies. Joe and Sylvia were rather shy but very pleased;
it now seemed to them that they had acted quite wisely in making this
absurd expedition.
Then the King turned to Gorbo, who stood cap in hand, still holding on
to his bundle and other matters. I will endeavour to give as literal a
translation of the talk as possible.
“Hail, Gorbo, cleverest and brightest of the Snergs we don’t think,”
said the King.
“Hail, King. May your shadow be ever a wide one.” (This is the formal
reply to a Royal salutation.)
“And what doest thou here with these young ones, O Ornament to the race
the other way round?”
“I met them in the woodland, O King,” replied Gorbo, now getting very
nervous.
“Yes. And in what part of that wide address didst thou find them, thou
first-class brain perhaps not?”
“Er--just this side of Toadstool Hollow, O King.”
“Ha! And had’st thou, thou nimble lout, any hand in inducing them to
wander further from their home?”
Gorbo went down upon his knees, as a good safe position. “No, O King,
not at all. They said they were coming here, so I--I showed them the
way.”
“Excellent! And it did not occur to thee, thou farthing rascal, to lead
them back to their little home by the sea?”
“N--no, O King, I--I didn’t think.”
“That we believe, thou worse than worm.”
The King crossed his legs and meditated, with his chin resting on
his hand. “And what,” he asked at length, turning to Joe, “will Miss
Watkyns (on whom be peace) think of these thy wanderings?”
“I don’t know, O King,” replied Joe, hoping he was saying it
correctly. “We just scooted. For fun,” he added to make it sound more
reasonable.
“For fun, sayest thou, small man! And had’st thou wandered with this
golden-haired babe into parts where the trees are locked like twisted
serpents and there is no light, wouldst thou then have found thy fun?”
Joe wriggled and felt horribly uncomfortable. The King then turned to
the Master of the Household, who was standing by the kneeling Gorbo,
contemptuously snipping at his ears.
“And what thinkest thou of this strange matter?” he asked.
“I think,” replied the officer, “that it were a good excuse for a
feast.”
“Excellently said!” exclaimed the King. “So be it. We will first
dispatch fleet messengers to Miss Watkyns to calm her fears, and then
celebrate the visit of these tiny ones” (they were nearly as tall as he
was) “by a banquet of the best. But,” he added, pointing the finger of
scorn at Gorbo, “give to this all but black-beetle a courteous loving
invitation to stay away from it.”
“Please, O King,” began Sylvia timidly. Then she stopped suddenly, for
everybody had turned to look at her.
“Speak on, pretty one,” said the King, encouragingly, laying his hand
upon her curls. “What hair!”
“Please, it wasn’t Gorbo’s fault,” went on Sylvia. “You see--er--O King,
Joe and I ran away--for fun--and Gorbo found us when we were hungry and
he gave us lots to eat. And he got some milk from a deer for us, and
found us a bear to ride part of the way.”
“Gorbo’s a jolly good sort, O King,” added Joe.
“Oh, then that alters the case,” said the King briskly. (He was rather
impulsive). “Rise, Gorbo. We cancel the invitation and command you to
feast with us this day--but not too near us. The safe arrival of these
little ones across the forest,” he added in a general way to everybody,
“together with the discovery of a gleam of sense in that varlet, make
this indeed a day of strange happenings.”
Sylvia and Joe were then taken charge of by the Queen, a fat, smiling
person who came into the audience chamber at this point. They had
first a good wash, and then a toothsome little snack of bean fritters
mixed with honey, and a cup of milk, to carry on with until the time
of the feast, and Tiger had a large plate of bread sop with meat in
it, after which he went to sleep for hours. While they were eating the
Queen came with a comb and fluffed out Sylvia’s hair and put some fancy
extra curls in it. Then, after a little rest, they went to watch the
preparations outside.
It was an interesting sight. The people had not had a feast for more
than a week and it came as a welcome change. Men were staggering about
with tables and joining them end on in the proper way, and placing
stools and benches in position. There were 38 tables altogether and
each one was about 12 feet long--38 × 12 = 456 feet--so you will see
that a noble spread it was going to be; it reached from the Royal House
to as far as beyond the market-place. From every kitchen came the smell
of savoury baked meats. At the open windows little stout women could
be seen rolling out pastry. Grave, responsible Snergs measured the
mead into jars and placed them at the proper intervals on the tables.
Harpers put new strings to their harps. The Court jester went to his
attic and got out a little secret volume from beneath the mattress and
mugged up some merry jests.
THE FEAST
At the appointed hour horns sounded and all sat down to table in the
calm evening light. At the head were the King and Queen, side by side.
To the right and left sat Sylvia and Joe, and after them came the best
people, then the ordinary Snergs in order of importance. At the extreme
end of the table, somewhere in the suburbs, sat Gorbo. That’s what they
thought of _him_.
I am happy to report that the Queen kept a careful watch on what the
two children ate or else there might have been serious trouble for them
later, the food being of a very grown-up sort. They were given each a
very tiny mug of mead and she told them to go slow with it. (The Snerg
youngsters, by the way, can put away an imperial pint and still behave.
Use is everything). It was all very jolly for them to find themselves
treated with so much pomp and circumstance, and they felt that they
had some glorious things to tell the other kids when they arrived
home. There occurred one unfortunate incident, however, which helped
to reduce any tendency towards swelled heads. They had heard before
that the Snergs considered it shocking bad form to feed dogs when at
table--every race has its own peculiar ideas on behaviour--but when
two nice friendly dogs, rather like retrievers, came one on each side
of Sylvia and watched every mouthful that she took, she was greatly
tempted to give them a bit, especially as their mouths watered so much
that she could actually hear the drips. It was when one of them began
a gentle moaning sound that she could stand it no longer, so just when
she thought the King and Queen were looking the other way she slipped
a piece of meat into his mouth. He snapped it up and lashed the floor
with his tail; the other dog instantly sprang up and put two paws on
her lap and gazed into her eyes. In an instant all the talk had stopped
and everybody stared at her.
It was a horrible moment, and she became crimson. But the King came
to her aid with true politeness. He cut a piece of knuckle end of
lamb and flung it to his favourite hound, and the situation was
saved. (The Prince of Wales, I believe, once took a good swig out of
his finger-bowl to put an unpolished guest at his ease.) But it was
necessary to have all dogs removed after this, as they came crowding
up, full of hope.
There was some good music from harps, and the jester asked some clever
riddles, one of which was new. A young Snerg who had a really fine
tenor voice sang, “Give me thy gold, I ask no more,” very movingly. But
perhaps the most delightful (though slightly embarrassing) moment was
when, at a given signal, the whole push stood up and drained a cup of
mead to “Our Guests.”
The declining sun shone round a corner of the street; the scene was
now in mellow light and shade. Snergs began to loll against each other
and reach lazily for the nut-crackers. From the end of the table, 486
feet away, came shouts of unseemly mirth: Gorbo, that ass, had made a
bet that he would stand on his head on a pyramid of mead pots, and the
crash was terrific. The King sent a stern word that there was to be
not so much of it. The sudden discovery that Joe and Sylvia were both
sound asleep in their little arm-chairs caused no particular break in
the proceedings. They were carried to the Royal House by motherly old
Snergs and tucked up in bed, and the feasting and joviality went on.
A MORNING WALK