by E. Nesbit
“Oh, they just live here. And they buy and sell and plant gardens and work and play like everybody does in other cities. And when they go to sleep they go slap through their dreams and into the other world, and work and play there, see? That’s how it goes on. There’s a lot more, but that’s enough for one time. You get on with your gooseberries.”
“But they aren’t all real people, are they? There’s Mr. Noah?”
“Ah, those is aristocracy, the ones you put in when you built the cities. They’re our old families. Very much respected. They’re all very high up in the world. Came over with the Conker, as the saying is. There’s the Noah family. They’re the oldest of all, of course. And the dolls you’ve put in different times and the tin soldiers, and of course all the Noah’s ark animals is alive except when you used them for building, and then they’re statues.”
“But I don’t see,” said Philip, “I really don’t see how all these cities that I built at different times can still be here, all together and all going on at once, when I know they’ve all been pulled down.”
“Well, I’m no scholar. But I did hear Mr. Noah say once in a lecture—he’s a speaker, if you like—I heard him say it was like when you take a person’s photo. The person is so many inches thick through and so many feet high and he’s round and he’s solid. But in the photo he’s flat. Because everything’s flat in photos. But all the same it’s him right enough. You get him into the photo. Then all you’ve got to do is to get ’im out again into where everything’s thick and tall and round and solid. And it’s quite easy, I believe, once you know the trick.”
“Stop,” said Philip suddenly. “I think my head’s going to burst.”
“Ah!” said the carpenter kindly. “I felt like that at first. Lie down and try to sleep it off a bit. Eddication does go to your head something crool. I’ve often noticed it.”
And indeed Philip was quite glad to lie down among the long grass and be covered up with the carpenter’s coat. He fell asleep at once.
An hour later he woke again, looked at the wrinkled-apple face of Mr. Perrin and began to remember.
“I’m glad you’re here anyhow,” he said to the carpenter; “it was horribly lonely. You don’t know.”
“That’s why I was sent to meet you,” said Mr. Perrin simply.
“But how did you know?”
“Mr. Noah sent for me early this morning. Bless you, he knows all about everything. Says he, ‘You go and meet ’im and tell ’im all you can. If he wants to be a Deliverer, let ’im,’ says Mr. Noah.”
“But how do you begin being a Deliverer?” Philip asked, sitting up and feeling suddenly very grand and manly, and very glad that Lucy was not there to interfere.
“There’s lots of different ways,” said Mr. Perrin. “Your particular way’s simple. You just got to kill the dragon.”
“A live dragon?”
“Live!” said Mr. Perrin. “Why he’s all over the place and as green as grass he is. Lively as a kitten. He’s got a broken spear sticking out of his side, so some one must have had a try at baggin’ him, some time or another.”
“Don’t you think,” said Philip, a little overcome by this vivid picture, “that perhaps I’d better look for Lucy first, and be a Deliverer afterwards?”
“If you’re afraid,” said Mr. Perrin.
“I’m not,” said Philip doubtfully.
“You see,” said the carpenter, “what you’ve got to consider is: are you going to be the hero of this ’ere adventure or ain’t you? You can’t ’ave it both ways. An’ if you are, you may’s well make up your mind, cause killing a dragon ain’t the end of it, not by no means.”
“Do you mean there are more dragons?”
“Not dragons,” said the carpenter soothingly; “not dragons exactly. But there. I don’t want to lower your heart. If you kills the dragon, then afterwards there’s six more hard things you’ve got to do. And then they make you king. Take it or leave it. Only, if you take it we’d best be starting. And anyhow we may as well get a move on us, because at sundown the dragon comes out to drink and exercise of himself. You can hear him rattling all night among these ’ere ruins; miles off you can ’ear ’im of a still night.”
“Suppose I don’t want to be a Deliverer,” said Philip slowly.
“Then you’ll be a Destroyer,” said the carpenter; “there’s only these two situations vacant here at present. Come, Master Philip, sir, don’t talk as if you wasn’t going to be a man and do your duty for England, Home and Beauty, like it says in the song. Let’s be starting, shall us?”
“You think I ought to be the Deliverer?”
“Ought stands for nothing,” said Mr. Perrin. “I think you’re a going to be the Deliverer; that’s what I think. Come on!”
As they rose to go, Philip had a brief fleeting vision of a very smart lady in a motor veil, disappearing round the corner of a pillar.
“Are there many motors about here?” he asked, not wishing to talk any more about dragons just then.
“Not a single one,” said Mr. Perrin unexpectedly. “Nor yet phonographs, nor railways, nor factory chimneys, nor none of them loud ugly things. Nor yet advertisements, nor newspapers, nor barbed wire.”
After that the two walked silently away from the ruin. Philip was trying to feel as brave and confident as a Deliverer should. He reminded himself of St. George. And he remembered that the hero never fails to kill the dragon. But he still felt a little uneasy. It takes some time to accustom yourself to being a hero. But he could not help looking over his shoulder every now and then to see if the dragon was coming. So far it wasn’t.
“Well,” said Mr. Perrin as they drew near a square tower with a long flight of steps leading up to it, “what do you say?”
“I wasn’t saying anything,” said Philip.
“I mean are you going to be the Deliverer?”
Then something in Philip’s heart seemed to swell, and a choking feeling came into his throat, and he felt more frightened than he had ever felt before, as he said, looking as brave as he could:
“Yes. I am.”
Perrin clapped his hands.
And instantly from the doors of the tower and from behind it came dozens of people, and down the long steps, alone, came Mr. Noah, moving with careful dignity and carrying his yellow mat neatly rolled under his arm. All the people clapped their hands, till Mr. Noah, standing on the third step, raised his hands to command silence.
“Friends,” he said, “and fellow-citizens of Polistopolis, you see before you one who says that he is the Deliverer. He was yesterday arrested and tried as a trespasser, and condemned to imprisonment. He escaped and you all assumed that he was the Destroyer in disguise. But now he has returned and of his own free will he chooses to attempt the accomplishment of the seven great deeds. And the first of these is the killing of the great green dragon.”
The people, who were a mixed crowd of all nations, cheered loudly.
“So now,” said Mr. Noah, “we will make him our knight.”
“Kneel,” said Mr. Noah, “in token of fealty to the Kingdom of Cities.”
Philip knelt.
“You shall now speak after me,” said Mr. Noah solemnly. “Say what I say,” he whispered, and Philip said it.
This was it. “I, Philip, claim to be the Deliverer of this great nation, and I pledge myself to carry out the seven great deeds that shall prove my claim to the Deliverership and the throne. I pledge my honour to be the champion of this city, and the enemy of its Destroyer.”
When Philip had said this, Mr. Noah drew forth a bright silver-hilted sword and held it over him.
“You must be knighted,” he said; “those among my audience who have read any history will be aware that no mere commoner can expect to conquer a dragon. We must give our would-be Deliverer e
very chance. So I will make him a knight.” He tapped Philip lightly on the shoulder and said, “Rise up, Sir Philip!”
This was really grand, and Philip felt new courage as Mr. Noah handed him the silver sword, and all the people cheered.
But as the cheers died down, a thin and disagreeable voice suddenly said:
“But I claim to be the Deliverer too.”
It was like a thunderbolt. Every one stopped cheering and stood with mouth open and head turned towards the person who had spoken. And the person who had spoken was the smartly dressed lady in the motor veil, whom Philip had seen among the ruins.
“A trespasser! a trespasser!” cried the crowd; “to prison with it!” and angry, threatening voices began to arise.
“I’m no more a trespasser than he is,” said the voice, “and if I say I am the Deliverer, you can’t stop me. I can kill dragons or do anything he can do.”
“Silence, trespasser,” said Mr. Noah, with cold dignity. “You should have spoken earlier. At present Sir Philip occupies the position of candidate to the post of King-Deliverer. There is no other position open to you except that of Destroyer.”
“But suppose the boy doesn’t do it?” said the voice behind the veil.
“True,” said Mr. Noah. “You may if you choose, occupy for the present the position of Pretender-in-Chief to the Claimancy of the Deliverership, an office now and here created expressly for you. The position of Claimant to the Destroyership is also,” he added reflectively, “open to you.”
“Then if he doesn’t do it,” said the veiled lady, “I can be the Deliverer.”
“You can try,” said Mr. Noah. “There are a special set of tasks to be performed if the claimant to the Deliverership be a woman.”
“What are they?” said the veiled lady.
“If Sir Philip fails you will be duly instructed in the deeds required of a Deliverer who is a woman. And now, my friends, let us retire and leave Sir Philip to deal with the dragon. We shall watch anxiously from yonder ramparts,” he added encouragingly.
“But isn’t any one to help me?” said Philip, deeply uneasy.
“It is not usual,” said Mr. Noah, “for champions to require assistance with dragons.”
“I should think not indeed,” said the veiled lady; “but you’re not going the usual way about it at all. Where’s the princess, I should like to know?”
“There isn’t any princess,” said Mr. Noah.
“Then it won’t be a proper dragon-killing,” she said, with an angry shaking of skirts; “that’s all I can say.”
“I wish it was all,” said Mr. Noah to himself.
“If there isn’t a princess it isn’t fair,” said the veiled one; “and I shall consider it’s my turn to be Deliverer.”
“Be silent, woman,” said Mr. Noah.
“Woman, indeed,” said the lady. “I ought to have a proper title.”
“Your title is the Pretender to the—”
“I know,” she interrupted; “but you forget you’re speaking to a lady. You can call me the Pretenderette.”
Mr. Noah turned coldly from her and pressed two Roman candles and a box of matches into Philip’s hand.
“When you have arranged your plans and are quite sure that you will be able to kill the dragon, light one of these. We will then have a princess in readiness, and on observing your signal will tie her to a tree, or, since this is a district where trees are rare and buildings frequent, to a pillar. She will be perfectly safe if you make your plans correctly. And in any case you must not attempt to deal with the dragon without first lighting the Roman candle.”
“And the dragon will see it and go away.”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Noah. “Or perhaps he will see it and not go away. Time alone will show. The task that is without difficulties can never really appeal to a hero. You will find weapons, cords, nets, shields and various first aids to the young dragon-catcher in the vaults below this tower. Good evening, Sir Philip,” he ended warmly. “We wish you every success.”
And with that the whole crowd began to go away.
“I know who you ought to have for princess,” the Pretenderette said as they went. And Mr. Noah said:
“Silence in court.”
“This isn’t a court,” said the Pretenderette aggravatingly.
“Wherever justice is, is a court,” said Mr. Noah, “and I accuse you of contempt of it. Guards, arrest this person and take her to prison at once.”
There was a scuffling and a shrieking and then the voices withdrew gradually, the angry voice of even the Pretenderette growing fainter and fainter till it died away altogether.
Philip was left alone.
His first act was to go up to the top of the tower and look out to see if he could see the dragon. He looked east and north and south and west, and he saw the ramparts of the fort where Mr. Noah and the others were now safely bestowed. He saw also other towers and cities in the distance, and he saw the ruins where he had met Mr. Perrin.
And among those ruins something was moving. Something long and jointed and green. It could be nothing but the dragon.
“Oh, Crikey!” said Philip to himself; “whatever shall I do? Perhaps I’d better see what weapons there are.”
So he ran down the stairs and down and down till he came to the vaults of the castle, and there he found everything a dragon-killer could possibly need, even to a little red book called the Young Dragon-Catcher’s Vade Mecum, or a Complete Guide to the Good Sport of Dragon-Slaying; and a pair of excellent field-glasses.
The top of the tower seemed the safest place. It was there that he tried to read the book. The words were very long and most difficultly spelt. But he did manage to make out that all dragons sleep for one hour after sunset. Then he heard a loud rattling sound from the ruin, and he knew it was the dragon who was making that sound, so he looked through the field-glasses, frowning with anxiety to see what the dragon was doing.
And as he looked he started and almost dropped the glasses, and the frown cleared away from his forehead and he gave a sigh that was almost a sob and almost a laugh, and then he said—
“That old thing!”
Then he looked again, and this is what he saw. An enormous green dragon, very long and fierce-looking, that rattled as it moved, going in and out among the ruins, rubbing itself against the fallen pillars. And the reason Philip laughed and sighed was that he knew that dragon very well indeed. He had known it long ago. It was the clockwork lizard that had been given him the Christmas before last. And he remembered that he had put it into one of the cities he and Helen had built together. Only now, of course, it had grown big and had come alive like all the other images of live things he had put in his cities. But he saw that it was still a clockwork creature. And its key was sticking out of its side. And it was rubbing itself against the pillars so as to turn the key and wind itself up. But this was a slow business and the winding was not half done when the sun set. The dragon instantly lay down and went to sleep.
“Well,” said Philip, “now I’ve got to think.”
He did think, harder than he had ever done before. And when he had finished thinking he went down into the vault and got a long rope. Then he stood still a moment, wondering if he really were brave enough. And then he remembered “Rise up, Sir Philip,” and he knew that a knight simply mustn’t be afraid.
So he went out in the dusk towards the dragon.
He knew it would sleep for an hour. But all the same— And the twilight was growing deeper and deeper. Still there was plenty of light to find the ruin, and also to find the dragon. There it lay—about ten or twelve yards of solid dark dragon-flesh. Its metal claws gleamed in the last of the daylight. Its great mouth was open, and its breathing, as it slept, was like the sound of the sea on a rough night.
“R
ise up, Sir Philip,” he said to himself, and walked along close to the dragon till he came to the middle part where the key was sticking out—which Mr. Perrin had thought was a piece of an old spear with which some one had once tried to kill the monster.
Philip fastened one end of his rope very securely to the key—how thankful he was that Helen had taught him to tie knots that were not granny-knots. The dragon lay quite still, and went on breathing like a stormy sea. Then the dragon-slayer fastened the other end of the rope to the main wall of the ruin which was very strong and firm, and then he went back to his tower as fast as he could and struck a match and lighted his Roman candle.
You see the idea? It was really rather a clever one. When the dragon woke it would find that it was held prisoner by the ropes. It would be furious and try to get free. And in its struggles it would be certain to get free, but this it could only do by detaching itself from its key. When once the key was out the dragon would be unable to wind itself up any more, and would be as good as dead. Of course Sir Philip could cut off its head with the silver-hilted sword if Mr. Noah really wished it.
It was, as you see, an excellent plan, as far as it went. Philip sat on the top of his tower quite free from anxiety, and ate a few hairy red gooseberries that happened to be loose in his pocket. Within three minutes of his lighting his Roman candle a shower of golden rain went up in the south, some immense Catherine-wheels appeared in the east, and in the north a long line of rockets presented almost the appearance of an aurora borealis. Red fire, green fire, then rockets again. The whole of the plain was lit by more fireworks than Philip had ever seen, even at the Crystal Palace. By their light he saw a procession come out of the fort, cross to a pillar that stood solitary on the plain, and tie to it a white figure.
“The Princess, I suppose,” said Philip; “well, she’s all right anyway.”
Then the procession went back to the fort, and then the dragon awoke. Philip could see the great creature stretching itself and shaking its vast head as a dog does when it comes out of the water.
