Part 10

“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 them up. When she had finished with them the effect was startling. Sylvia had on a dress of white silk adorned with flowers and bees worked in gold, and little red shoes with pom-poms on them. Her hair was all fluffed out beneath a snow-white cap like a sugar loaf leaning backwards. Joe had a bright crimson doublet and hose and a cap with a white feather on it. His shoes wanted some getting used to for the toes were so pointed and long that they had to be fastened to his knees with tiny gold chains. In his belt he had a little dagger in an embroidered sheath, and this he liked more than anything. He told Sylvia that he had told her all along that things would come out all right and that she needn’t worry.

“What do you think of Sir Giles?” asked the Lady Ermyntrude when the children’s toilet was complete and they were sitting opposite to her on two footstools.

“He’s not bad,” replied Joe. (After all, Sir Giles had looked after them pretty well and given them breakfast.)

“He’s bossy,” said the lady (not the word she used of course, but the nearest I can get to it).

“Is he, Miss?” Sylvia asked.

“Yes, with most people. But not with me.” Here she laughed scornfully.

“You’re going to marry him, aren’t you, Miss--I mean, my Lady?” asked Sylvia timidly.

“In August.”

“Oh, so soon?” Sylvia got greatly interested. “Bridesmaids?”

“Six. Would you like to see my wedding-dress--as far as it’s gone?”

“I should _love_ it!”

So Joe had to wander about the room for half an hour while these two thoroughly feminine females went into close details.

ANOTHER MEAL WITH ROYALTY

The evening meal was a matter of some ceremony and observance of old customs. The public was admitted in moderate numbers on payment of a small fee (which went to the poor) and it was quite the thing for people who wanted to give country friends a treat to take them to the palace in order to see from behind a railed-off space the royal party feeding. Those who came on this particular evening had no reason to complain that they had not had their money’s worth.

The jovial character of the King made him sometimes impatient of ceremony, and once the trumpets had sounded to announce that he had removed his outer robe and taken his seat, he would adopt a free and easy manner calculated to put nervous guests at their ease. I do not mean that Joe and Sylvia were nervous. They had been guests of honour at the table of King Merse II and knew something of the ways of courts--though this of course was on a much more magnificent scale--and, in addition, they were upheld by the consciousness that they were fitly attired. Those who know--as I confess I do--the great gain in ease and self-respect due to a new suit of clothes will readily understand this.

While the meal proceeded the King expressed sympathy with them for their mislaying of Gorbo and comforted them by saying that he would undoubtedly turn up safe and sound. He said he would have inquiries made at once.

“It is indeed a gratification,” he said, “to hear that the Snergs are nice and harmless and not at all fierce. I must try and arrange some way of meeting their king, who I have no doubt is a very worthy man in his way. It would be to clear up the misunderstandings of ages. And I should especially like to see your faithful friend Gorbo. I trust I shall shortly. In the meantime,” he went on with hospitable smiles, “have another of these, Sylvia” (handing her a plate of confections rather like muffins with fruit inside). “Little girls should build up their systems with plenty of food, and these are full of vitamines.”

“Thank you, sire,” said Sylvia, taking one.

“But these are cold,” went on the King as he bit into another. “Let me give you a hot one.” Then, for as I have said he despised ceremony in small things, he rose and reached for a huge silver dish (with a hot water arrangement beneath it) where the muffins were heaped.

I ask you to note that, the dish being at some distance from him, he leant forward until he was almost prone on the table, the muffin he had bitten to test its temperature being still between his teeth.

A STINGER

At that instant fearful shouts were heard, and to the bewildering surprise and joy of Sylvia and Joe, they saw Gorbo bounding up the hall. He wore instead of his close-fitting Snerg cap, a strange one of filthy appearance. In his left hand he bore a pair of ragged shoes, and in his right he held aloft a long whippy sapling.

He did not see them; even if he had he would not have recognized in these splendidly-dressed children his travel-stained young friends; he had eyes only for the alleged tyrant whose gold crown revealed his identity and whose attitude as he leaned across the table was excellent for the user of a magic sword. He leapt forward--remember all this occupied but one or two seconds--and brought the sapling down on the King’s person with a juicy smack that rang through the hall.

To say merely that things moved briskly after this is to confess--as I must--inability to cope in words with so strange a situation. I will, however, do my best to give a general impression of subsequent happenings.

The King bounced upright--nay, more than upright--and with eyes goggling and utterance impeded by the muffin in his mouth, glared maniacally at his assailant. And all present were so paralysed with amazement that for an instant there was utter silence. O moments big as years!

The thoughts of Gorbo in that bitter speck of time might be expressed as follows:--

“I have been cozened. This cap is not a cap of invisibility, because everybody is looking at me. This sapling is not a sword of sharpness, because just look at what’s happened! Therefore, for the love of Mike, let these be shoes of swiftness, for I need them!”

He flung away the sapling, sprang into the shoes, and ran.

He ran into the arms of about twenty soldiers, each of whom grabbed a bit of him somewhere.

“It’s Gorbo!” cried Sylvia in agony. “Oh, poor old Gorbo!”

“Gorbo, is it?” roared the King, sweeping away with his arms those who rushed to tend him, and literally gnashing his teeth. “So _that’s_ your Gorbo? Harmless, eh? Not fierce at all! Oh----!”

Here I must cease writing down his words.

THE MORNING AFTER

When the children woke next day the events of the evening came to them with a shock. They had not been thrown into a dungeon, as they had not unreasonably feared would be the case, but had been rather hurriedly bundled out of the way by the Lady Ermyntrude and put to bed in a fairly comfortable back room with two beds and told to go to sleep at once, which they felt was rather a difficult thing to do under the circumstances. They felt that they were losing their popularity, and besides, they were greatly worried about their friend. Speculation as to why he had behaved as he had and what would be his probable fate kept them whispering for hours.

But when they were dressed by a maid (who brought them an early cup of milk) and had gone downstairs, they found the situation easier. The King had passed a good night. He had no temperature and was able to eat a hearty breakfast. He did not express a wish to see the children, and they were glad of this because they felt it would have been so awkward. The Lady Ermyntrude gave them their breakfast and then took them out for a walk in the garden, and Tiger had a run with some puppies that belonged to her.

The King attended a council at which were discussed various suggestions made by the nobles as to the ceremonies to be observed in the cutting off of Gorbo’s head. It was finally decided that it should be done in the market-place at 11.30, and, this being settled, the King proposed (for the basis of his method of government was strict justice) that the villain should receive a fair trial.

Gorbo was brought in, loaded with an almost unnecessary length of chain, and stood before the Lord Chancellor, who was to conduct the case.

“Your name, prisoner?” asked the Lord Chancellor.

“Gorbo, so please you, sir,” replied the unhappy Snerg.

“Your age, Gorbo?”

“Two hundred and seventy-three, sir.”

“Your occupation, Gorbo?”

“Potter, sir.”

“And why, Gorbo, did you leave the harmless calling of potting to come to this land and give a fleshy cut to the King’s Grace?”

“Because----” He could say no more.

“The reason is inadequate, Gorbo. Think, for your time on earth is short if you give no better bid for life.”

“Mother Meldrum told me to,” said Gorbo, his wits roused by the extremity.

“Aha, now we get near it! But even then, Gorbo, the reason seems no full one. Is it the foul custom of the Snergs to smite all, however exalted, at the chance word of a witch?”

“She--she said that the King was a grievous tyrant--and that he needed killing badly. But the chief reason was she said that if I didn’t kill him, he’d kill Sylvia and Joe.”

The Lord Chancellor turned to the King. “In truth, sire, we seem to have secured, at the cost of a stinger to your Majesty’s person, the biggest numskull the world has ever known.”

“It would seem so,” agreed the King, with a half pitying look at Gorbo. “I suggest, my lords, that he be allowed to tell his tale in his own fashion and we will then see if it agrees in substance with the tale of those little ones.”

“A noble idea and worthy of your Majesty’s brain capacity,” said the Lord Chancellor. “Come, fellow, your tale, plainly told.”

With much faltering and stammering (for he feared he had proved the truth of the prophecy that he was the biggest fool) Gorbo began his account of all that had happened since he left Watkyns Bay. He warmed up as he proceeded and got more at his ease, for he saw that all listened with deep interest. He diplomatically stopped at the point where he arrived at the palace gates on the previous evening.

“All agrees well with the tale of the children,” said the King. “I think, my lords, we must let this oaf keep his head for the present.”

“Yes, sire,” said the Lord Chancellor, “and in my opinion----”

But his opinion was lost to the world, for at that instant there was heard a clamour without and a sounding knock at the door.

THE INVASION

The door opened smartly and the Captain of the City Guard appeared framed in the doorway, a stoutly-built man in a full suit of mail, with a beard like a pound of coarse-cut tobacco and a rough but not unkindly face.

“My liege,” he said, making a leg, “pray pardon my pushing in, but a strange armed force has appeared suddenly, demanding the surrender of the two foreign children and the Snerg.”

“An armed force, fellow!” cried the King with justifiable anger. “Demanding of _me_--I mean us! You are surely talking through your morion.”

“Nay, sire, it is but too true. Some two score of large men in quaint boots and some ten score or more of small dwarfish men who may be Snergs. They say that if the three they demand be given to them uninjured they will go in peace.”

The King rose to the occasion with true dignity. “Admit them to the City,” he said. “We will talk with their leader.”

“Well, sire,” said the Captain of the Guard, with a not unnatural embarrassment, “the fact is, they have admitted themselves. You see, it happened that I was athirst, and----”

“We will look into that later,” interrupted the King with a stern look. “In the meantime, invite this force into our hall as soon as I have taken my seat on the throne.”

AN HISTORIC MEETING

The force was drawn up in an orderly way in the hall; Snergs on the right flank, four deep, and the Dutchmen on the left flank. Vanderdecken knew something of the art of war--so useful to seamen of his day--and he had trained his crew to do some simple military exercises, including musketry drill. On the whole the Expeditionary Force, with Snergs in half armour and the sailors carrying their muskets at the slope, looked hard and efficient.

King Kul left his throne and advanced six steps. King Merse came forward, looking every inch a king, though small.

“Welcome, our cousin of Snerg.”

Their hands met. King Kul took the arm of the other and led him to a seat by the throne. There was a murmur of satisfaction from the assembled courtiers, while the two exchanged the friendly, but not necessarily very deep, remarks which characterize the conversation of princes or presidents who meet for the first time.

It is of course not very probable that any of my readers will visit this land, but if by chance they should do so I recommend them to take special note of the fresco which was painted to commemorate this historic scene, for it well repays inspection. It is in the vaulted corridor on the left of the hall, next to the cloak-room.

NECESSARY EXPLANATIONS

Formalities were soon over, and King Kul ordered that the two children be brought to greet their friends. In the meantime, he stood, his hands lightly clasped behind him, talking to Vanderdecken, who had been presented to him with due ceremony and whose sterling qualities he could both discern and appreciate. Though but a merchant adventurer Vanderdecken was of good family; he had as we know some knowledge of the classics, he spoke easily and well, there was no hesitation or _mauvaise honte_ about the man; though his dress was rough and perhaps ill-fitted to the brilliant scene, he bore himself with proper pride. As the late Lord Buscoe said to one who expostulated with him for coming to dinner in plus-fours, you cannot disguise a gentleman.

Sylvia and Joe, in their fine and fancy garb, were brought into the hall by the Lady Ermyntrude and affectionately greeted and kissed by King Merse. They instantly told him that he must demand the release of Gorbo, for he had been put in a dungeon.

“By the way, your Majesty,” said King Merse, turning to his brother monarch, “what about my subject, Gorbo? I hear he is in trouble.”

“You shall see him,” replied the other with a touch of sternness (with two kings conversing the reader will have sometimes to judge their identity by the matter of their speech). “Ho there! bring hither that fellow!”

Metallic sounds caused all to look towards the council chamber where Gorbo had been left with his guards. He came forward, carrying his chain with difficulty and occasionally stumbling over it. He looked at his liege lord with a sheepish smile.