Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated) (603 page)

‘Of a sudden we saw the flashes of his discontents turned back on the clouds, and his shadow-hounds stopped baying.

‘“There’s Magic fighting Magic over yonder,” the Lady Esclairmonde cried, reigning up. “Who is against him?”

‘I could have told her, but I did not count it any of my business to speak of Asa Thor’s comings and goings.

‘How did you know?’said Una.

‘A slow North-East wind blew up, sawing and fretting through the oaks in a way I remembered. The wildfire roared up, one last time in one sheet, and snuffed out like a rushlight, and a bucketful of stinging hail fell. We heard the Boy walking in the Long Slip — where I first met you.

‘“Here, oh, come here!” said the Lady Esclairmonde, and stretched out her arms in the dark.

‘He was coming slowly, but he stumbled in the footpath, being, of course, mortal man.

‘“Why, what’s this?” he said to himself. We three heard him.

‘“Hold, lad, hold! ‘Ware Cold Iron!” said Sir Huon, and they two swept down like nightjars, crying as they rode.

‘I ran at their stirrups, but it was too late. We felt that the Boy had touched Cold Iron somewhere in the dark, for the Horses of the Hill shied off, and whipped round, snorting.

‘Then I judged it was time for me to show myself in my own shape; so I did.

‘“Whatever it is,” I said, “he has taken hold of it. Now we must find out whatever it is that he has taken hold of, for that will be his fortune.”

‘“Come here, Robin,” the Boy shouted, as soon as he heard my voice. “I don’t know what I’ve hold of.”

‘“It is in your hands,” I called back. “Tell us if it is hard and cold, with jewels atop. For that will be a King’s Sceptre.”

‘“Not by a furrow-long,” he said, and stooped and tugged in the dark. We heard him. ‘“Has it a handle and two cutting edges?” I called. “For that’ll be a Knight’s Sword.”

‘“No, it hasn’t,” he says. “It’s neither ploughshare, whittle, hook, nor crook, nor aught I’ve yet seen men handle.” By this time he was scratting in the dirt to prise it up.

‘“Whatever it is, you know who put it there, Robin,” said Sir Huon to me, “or you would not ask those questions. You should have told me as soon as you knew.”

‘“What could you or I have done against the Smith that made it and laid it for him to find?” I said, and I whispered Sir Huon what I had seen at the Forge on Thor’s Day, when the babe was first brought to the Hill.

‘“Oh, good-bye, our dreams!” said Sir Huon. “It’s neither sceptre, sword, nor plough! Maybe yet it’s a bookful of learning, bound with iron clasps. There’s a chance for a splendid fortune in that sometimes.”

‘But we knew we were only speaking to comfort ourselves, and the Lady Esclairmonde, having been a woman, said so.

‘“Thur aie! Thor help us!” the Boy called. “It is round, without end, Cold Iron, four fingers wide and a thumb thick, and there is writing on the breadth of it.”

‘“Read the writing if you have the learning,” I called. The darkness had lifted by then, and the owl was out over the fern again.

‘He called back, reading the runes on the iron:

  “Few can see

  Further forth

  Than when the child

  Meets the Cold Iron.”

And there he stood, in clear starlight, with a new, heavy, shining slave-ring round his proud neck.

‘“Is this how it goes?” he asked, while the Lady Esclairmonde cried.

‘“That is how it goes,” I said. He hadn’t snapped the catch home yet, though.

‘“What fortune does it mean for him?” said Sir Huon, while the Boy fingered the ring. “You who walk under Cold Iron, you must tell us and teach us.”

‘“Tell I can, but teach I cannot,” I said. “The virtue of the Ring is only that he must go among folk in housen henceforward, doing what they want done, or what he knows they need, all Old England over. Never will he be his own master, nor yet ever any man’s. He will get half he gives, and give twice what he gets, till his life’s last breath; and if he lays aside his load before he draws that last breath, all his work will go for naught.”

‘“Oh, cruel, wicked Thor!” cried the Lady Esclairmonde. “Ah, look see, all of you! The catch is still open! He hasn’t locked it. He can still take it off. He can still come back. Come back!” She went as near as she dared, but she could not lay hands on Cold Iron. The Boy could have taken it off, yes. We waited to see if he would, but he put up his hand, and the snap locked home.

‘“What else could I have done?” said he.

‘“Surely, then, you will do,” I said. “Morning’s coming, and if you three have any farewells to make, make them now, for, after sunrise, Cold Iron must be your master.” ‘So the three sat down, cheek by wet cheek, telling over their farewells till morning light. As good a boy as ever lived, he was.’

‘And what happened to him?’ asked Dan.

‘When morning came, Cold Iron was master of him and his fortune, and he went to work among folk in housen. Presently he came across a maid like-minded with himself, and they were wedded, and had bushels of children, as the saying is. Perhaps you’ll meet some of his breed, this year.’

‘Thank you,’ said Una. ‘But what did the poor Lady Esclairmonde do?’

‘What can you do when Asa Thor lays the Cold Iron in a lad’s path? She and Sir Huon were comforted to think they had given the Boy good store of learning to act and influence on folk in housen. For he was a good boy! Isn’t it getting on for breakfast-time? I’ll walk with you a piece.’

When they were well in the centre of the bone-dry fern, Dan nudged Una, who stopped and put on a boot as quickly as she could. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘you can’t get any Oak, Ash, and Thorn leaves from here, and’ — she balanced wildly on one leg — ’I’m standing on Cold Iron. What’ll you do if we don’t go away?’

‘E-eh? Of all mortal impudence!’said Puck, as Dan, also in one boot, grabbed his sister’s hand to steady himself. He walked round them, shaking with delight. ‘You think I can only work with a handful of dead leaves? This comes of taking away your Doubt and Fear! I’ll show you!’

A minute later they charged into old Hobden at his simple breakfast of cold roast pheasant, shouting that there was a wasps’ nest in the fern which they had nearly stepped on, and asking him to come and smoke it out. ‘It’s too early for wops-nests, an’ I don’t go diggin’ in the Hill, not for shillin’s,’ said the old man placidly. ‘You’ve a thorn in your foot, Miss Una. Sit down, and put on your t’other boot. You’re too old to be caperin’ barefoot on an empty stomach. Stay it with this chicken o’ mine.’

Cold Iron

     ‘Gold is for the mistress — silver for the maid!

     Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.’

     ‘Good!’ said the Baron, sitting in his hall,

     ‘But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of them all!’

     So he made rebellion ‘gainst the King his liege,

     Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege —

     ‘Nay!’ said the cannoneer on the castle wall,

     ‘But Iron — Cold Iron — shall be master of you all!’

     Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,

     When the cruel cannon-balls laid ‘em all along!

     He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,

     And Iron — Cold Iron — was master of it all!

     Yet his King spake kindly (Oh, how kind a Lord!)

     ‘What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?’

     ‘Nay!’ said the Baron, ‘mock not at my fall,

     For Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all.’

     ‘Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown —

     Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.’

     ‘As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,

     For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!’

     Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!)

     ‘Here is Bread and here is Wine — sit and sup with me.

     Eat and drink in Mary’s Name, the whiles I do recall

     How Iron — Cold Iron — can be master of men all!’

     He took the Wine and blessed It; He blessed and brake the Bread.

     With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:

     ‘Look!  These Hands they pierced with nails outside my city wall

     Show Iron — Cold Iron — to be master of men all!

     ‘Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong,

     Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.

     I forgive thy treason — I redeem thy fall —

     For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!’

     ‘Crowns are for the valiant — sceptres for the bold!

     Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.’

     ‘Nay!’ said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,

     ‘But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all!

     Iron, out of Calvary, is master of men all!’

GLORIANA

The Two Cousins

     Valour and Innocence

     Have latterly gone hence

     To certain death by certain shame attended.

     Envy — ah!  even to tears! —

     The fortune of their years

     Which, though so few, yet so divinely ended.

     Scarce had they lifted up

     Life’s full and fiery cup,

     Than they had set it down untouched before them.

     Before their day arose

     They beckoned it to close —

     Close in destruction and confusion o’er them.

     They did not stay to ask

     What prize should crown their task,

     Well sure that prize was such as no man strives for;

     But passed into eclipse,

     Her kiss upon their lips —

     Even Belphoebe’s, whom they gave their lives for!

Gloriana

Willow Shaw, the little fenced wood where the hop-poles are stacked like Indian wigwams, had been given to Dan and Una for their very own kingdom when they were quite small. As they grew older, they contrived to keep it most particularly private. Even Phillips, the gardener, told them every time that he came in to take a hop-pole for his beans, and old Hobden would no more have thought of setting his rabbit-wires there without leave, given fresh each spring, than he would have torn down the calico and marking ink notice on the big willow which said: ‘Grown-ups not allowed in the Kingdom unless brought.’

Now you can understand their indignation when, one blowy July afternoon, as they were going up for a potato-roast, they saw somebody moving among the trees. They hurled themselves over the gate, dropping half the potatoes, and while they were picking them up Puck came out of a wigwam.

‘Oh, it’s you, is it?’ said Una. ‘We thought it was people.’ ‘I saw you were angry — from your legs,’ he answered with a grin.

‘Well, it’s our own Kingdom — not counting you, of course.’

‘That’s rather why I came. A lady here wants to see you.’

‘What about?’ said Dan cautiously. ‘Oh, just Kingdoms and things. She knows about Kingdoms.’

There was a lady near the fence dressed in a long dark cloak that hid everything except her high red-heeled shoes. Her face was half covered by a black silk fringed mask, without goggles. And yet she did not look in the least as if she motored.

Puck led them up to her and bowed solemnly. Una made the best dancing-lesson curtsy she could remember. The lady answered with a long, deep, slow, billowy one.

‘Since it seems that you are a Queen of this Kingdom,’she said, ‘I can do no less than acknowledge your sovereignty.’ She turned sharply on staring Dan. ‘What’s in your head, lad? Manners?’

‘I was thinking how wonderfully you did that curtsy,’ he answered.

She laughed a rather shrill laugh. ‘You’re a courtier already. Do you know anything of dances, wench — or Queen, must I say?’

‘I’ve had some lessons, but I can’t really dance a bit,’ said Una.

‘You should learn, then.’ The lady moved forward as though she would teach her at once. ‘It gives a woman alone among men or her enemies time to think how she shall win or — lose. A woman can only work in man’s play-time. Heigho!’She sat down on the bank.