Wood Magic: A Fable
superfluous. However, next day, instead of going to sleep as usual, he
did keep his eyes open, and by-and-by saw a notch on the edge of the
sun, which notch grew bigger, until the shadow of the eclipse came over
the ground.
At this he leaped up, recognising in a moment the dead day of the
underground saying. He knew where Bevis's hare had her form, and
immediately he raced across to her, though not clearly knowing what he
was going to do; but as he crossed the fields he saw the sportsman,
without any dogs and with an empty gun, leaning over the gate and gazing
at the eclipse. With a snarl the fox drove Ulu from her form, and so
worried her that she was obliged to run (to escape his teeth) right
under the sportsman's legs, and thus to fulfil the saying: "The hare
hunted the hunter".
Even yet the fox did not know what was going to happen, or why he was
doing this, for such is commonly the case during the progress of great
events. The actors do not recognise the importance of the part they are
playing. The age does not know what it is doing; posterity alone can
appreciate it. But after a while, as the fox drove the hare out of the
hedges, and met and faced her, and bewildered the poor creature, he
observed that her zig-zag course, entirely unpremeditated, was leading
them closer and closer to the orchard where Kapchack (whom he wished to
overthrow) had his palace.
Then beginning to see whither fate was carrying them, suddenly he darted
out and drove the hare into the drain, and for safety followed her
himself. He knew the drain very well, and that there was an outlet on
the other side, having frequently visited the spot in secret in order to
listen to what Kapchack was talking about. Ulu, quite beside herself
with terror, rushed through the drain, leaving pieces of her fur against
the projections of the stones, and escaped into the lane on the other
side, and so into the fields there. The fox remained in the drain to
hear what would happen.
The sportsman ran round, entered the gate, and saw the old farmer
trimming the prop, the ladder just placed against the tree, and caught
sight of the palace of King Kapchack. As he approached a missel-thrush
flew off--it was Eric; the farmer looked up at this, and saw the
stranger, and was at first inclined to be very angry, for he had never
been intruded upon before, but as the young gentleman at once began to
apologise for the liberty, he overlooked it, and listened with interest
to the story the sportsman told him of the vagaries of the hare. While
they were talking the sportsman looked up several times at the nest
above him, and felt an increasing curiosity to examine it. At last he
expressed his wish; the farmer demurred, but the young gentleman pressed
him so hard, and promised so faithfully not to touch anything, that at
last the farmer let him go up the ladder, which he had only just put
there, and which he had not himself as yet ascended.
The young gentleman accordingly went up the ladder, being the first who
had been in that tree for years, and having examined and admired the
nest, he was just going to descend, when he stayed a moment to look at
the fractured bough. The great bough had not broken right off, but as
the prop gave way beneath it had split at the part where it joined the
trunk, leaving an open space, and revealing a hollow in the tree. In
this hollow something caught his eye; he put in his hand and drew forth
a locket, to which an old and faded letter was attached by a mouldy
ribbon twisted round it. He cast this down to the aged farmer, who
caught it in his hand, and instantly knew the locket which had
disappeared so long ago.
The gold was tarnished, but the diamonds were as bright as ever, and
glittered in the light as the sun just then began to emerge from the
eclipse. He opened the letter, scarce knowing what he did; the ink was
faded and pale, but perfectly legible, for it had been in a dry place.
The letter said that having tried in vain to get speech with him, and
having faced all the vile slander and bitter remarks of the village for
his sake, she had at last resolved to write and tell him that she was
really and truly his own. In a moment of folly she had, indeed, accepted
the locket, but that was all, and since the discovery she had twice sent
it back, and it had twice been put on her dressing-table, so that she
found it there in the morning (doubtless by the old woman, her aunt,
bribed for the purpose).
Then she thought that perhaps it would be better to give it to him (the
farmer), else he might doubt that she had returned it; so she said, as
he would not speak to her, she should leave it in the arbour, twisting
the ribbon round her letter, and she begged him to throw the locket in
the brook, and to believe her once again, or she should be miserable for
life. But, if after this he still refused to speak to her, she would
still stay a while and endeavour to obtain access to him; and if even
then he remained so cruel, there was nothing left for her but to quit
the village, and go to some distant relations in France. She would wait,
she added, till the new moon shone in the sky, and then she must go, for
she could no longer endure the insinuations which were circulated about
her. Lest there should be any mistake she enclosed a copy of a note she
had sent to the other gentleman, telling him that she should never
speak to him again. Finally, she put the address of the village in
France to which she was going, and begged and prayed him to write to
her.
When the poor old man had read these words, and saw that after all the
playful magpie must have taken the glittering locket and placed it, not
in his nest, but a chink of the tree; when he learned that all these
years and years the girl he had so dearly loved must have been waiting
with aching heart for a letter of forgiveness from him, the orchard swam
round, as it were, before his eyes, he heard a rushing sound like a
waterfall in his ears, the returning light of the sun went out again,
and he fainted. Had it not been for the young gentleman, who caught him,
he would have fallen to the ground, and it was just at this moment that
Bevis and his papa arrived at the spot.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE GREAT BATTLE.
Early the same morning when Kapchack awoke, he was so much refreshed by
the sound slumber he had enjoyed, that much of his depression--the sharp
edge of his pain as it were--had passed away. The natural vivacity of
his disposition asserted itself, and seemed to respond to the glory of
the sunshine. Hungry from his long fast, away he flew to well-known
places reserved for his own especial feeding-ground, and having
satisfied his appetite went up into a hawthorn, trimmed his feathers,
and began to think things over.
He at once decided that something of an exceptional character must be
attempted in order to regain his authority. Half measures, delays, and
intrigues were now in vain; some grand blow must be struck, such as
would fill all hearts with admiration or dismay. Another treaty with
Choo Hoo was out of the question, for the overbearing rebel would throw
in his face the assassination of the envoy, and even could it be thought
of, who could he entrust with the mission? His throne was completely
surrounded with traitors. He ground his beak as he thought of them, and
resolved that terrible indeed should be the vengeance he would take if
once he got them again into his power. The hope of revenge was the
keenest spur of all to him to adventure something bold and unexpected;
the hope of revenge, and the determination that the house of Kapchack
should not fall without an effort worthy of a monarch.
He resolved to at once attack the mighty horde Choo Hoo commanded with
the only troops he could get quickly together in this emergency. These
were the rooks, the praetorian guard of his state, the faithful,
courageous, and warlike tenth legion of his empire. No sooner did he
thus finally resolve than his whole appearance seemed to change. His
outward form in some degree reflected the spirit within. His feathers
ruffled up, and their black and white shone with new colour. The glossy
green of his tail gleamed in the sunshine. One eye indeed was gone, but
the other sparkled with the fire of war; he scented the battle, and
sharpened his bill against the bough.
He only regretted that he had not taken this course before, instead of
idling in the palace, and leaving his kingdom to the wiles of traitorous
courtiers and delegates. If he had only bestirred himself like the
ancient Kapchack of former days this extremity would not have arisen.
Even yet it was not too late; war was a desperate and uncertain game,
and it was not always the greatest army, in point of numbers, that
rejoiced in the victory. He would trust in his fortune, and swoop down
upon the enemy. Calling to his body-guard, he flew at once straight
towards the plain, where, at that time in the morning, he knew the main
body of the rooks would be foraging. Full of these resolutions he did
not observe the maimed beetle lying helpless in the grass, but looking
neither to the right nor the left, taking counsel of no one--for to whom
could he apply for honest advice?--he winged his way swiftly onward.
In about half-an-hour he reached the plain, and saw the rooks scattered
over the ground; he rested here upon the lower branch of an elm, and
sent forward a messenger, one of the eight magpies who attended him, to
tell the commander-in-chief to wait upon him. Upon receiving the
message, the general, hoping that at last the king had decided upon
action, since so abrupt a summons to his side was somewhat unusual, flew
hastily to the elm and saluted the monarch. Kapchack, without any
preamble, announced his intention of forming the rooks into column, and
falling at once upon the horde of barbarians. In the rooks, he said, and
their loyal commander, lay the last hope of the state--he placed himself
in their midst and relied upon them solely and alone.
Ah Kurroo Khan, the commander-in-chief, could scarcely refrain from
shouting with delight. He was not only wild with the joy of coming
combat, but this straightforward speech and conduct went to his heart,
and never in all his long, long reign had Kapchack so complete and
autocratic an empire as at that moment over the rooks.
Ah Kurroo, when he had in some degree expressed his pleasure at these
commands, and the readiness with which he placed himself and his army
at Kapchack's orders, proceeded first to pass the word to the legions to
fall into their ranks, and next to inform the monarch of the position
held by the enemy.
They were, he said, dispersed in all directions foraging, and discipline
was much relaxed, insomuch that several bands of them had even fallen to
blows amongst themselves. To attack these scattered positions, which
could individually be easily overwhelmed, would be a mistake, for these
reasons. The advantage of destroying one or two such bands of marauders
would be practically nothing, and while it was being accomplished the
rest would carry the information to Choo Hoo, and he would assemble his
enormous horde. Thus the chance of surprising and annihilating his army
would be lost.
But it appeared that Choo Hoo's son, Tu Kiu, who was also the second in
command of the barbarians, finding that already the country was becoming
denuded of supplies close to the camp, had during the previous day, at
his father's orders, marched a large division--in itself an immense
army--into a plain at a few miles' distance, which was surrounded with
the hills, and out of sight from the camp. The best strategy therefore
open to Kapchack, was either to assail Choo Hoo's camp, or else to fall
upon the divisions of Tu Kiu.