Complete Novels of E Nesbit

by Edith Nesbit

  ‘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 every 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.’

  ‘Silence, trespasser,’ said Mr. Noah, with cold dignity.

  ‘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.
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br />   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.

  ‘Rise 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.

  ‘I expect it doesn’t like the fireworks,’ said Philip. And he was quite right.

  And now the dragon saw the Princess who had been placed at a convenient spot about half-way between the ruins and Philip’s tower.

  It threw up its snout and uttered a devastating howl, and Philip felt with a thrill of horror that, clockwork or no clockwork, the brute was alive, and desperately dangerous.

  And now it had perceived that it was bound. With great heavings and throes, with snortings and bellowings, with scratchings and tearings of its great claws and lashings of its terrible tail, it writhed and fought to be free, and the light of thousands of fireworks illuminated the gigantic struggle.

  Then what Philip had known would happen, did happen. The great wall held fast, the rope held fast, the dragon held fast. It was the key that gave way. With an echoing grinding rusty sound like a goods train shunting on a siding, the key was drawn from the keyhole in the dragon’s side and left still fast to its rope like an anchor to a cable.

  Left. For now that happened which Philip had not foreseen. He had forgotten that before it fell asleep the dragon had partly wound itself up. And its struggles had not used up all the winding. There was go in the dragon yet. And with a yell of fury it set off across the plain, wriggling its green rattling length towards — the Princess.

  And now there was no time to think whether one was afraid or not. Philip went down those tower stairs more quickly than he had ever gone down stairs in his life, and he was not bad at stairs even at ordinary times.

  He put his sword over his shoulder as you do a gun, and ran. Like the dragon he made straight for the Princess. And now it was a race between him and the dragon. Philip ran and ran. His heart thumped, his feet had that leaden feeling that comes in nightmares. He felt as if he were dying.

  Keep on, keep on, faster, faster, you mustn’t stop. Ah! that’s better. He has got his second wind. He is going faster. And the dragon, or is it fancy? is going not quite so fast.

  How he did it Philip never knew. But with a last spurt he reached the pillar where the Princess stood bound. And the dragon was twenty yards away, coming on and on and on.

  Philip stood quite still, recovering his breath. And more and more slowly, but with no sign of stopping, the dragon came on. Behind him, where the pillar was, Philip heard some one crying softly.

  Then the dragon was quite near. Philip took three steps forward, took aim with his sword, shut his eyes and hit as hard as he could. Then something hard and heavy knocked him over, and for a time he knew no more.

  When he came to himself again, Mr. Noah was giving him something nasty to drink out of a medicine glass, Mr. Perrin was patting him on the back, all the people were shouting like mad, and more fireworks than ever were being let off. Beside him lay the dragon, lifeless and
still.

  Then something hard and heavy knocked him over.

  ‘Oh!’ said Philip, ‘did I really do it?’

  ‘You did indeed,’ said Mr. Noah; ‘however you may succeed with the other deeds, you are the hero of this one. And now, if you feel well enough, prepare to receive the reward of Valour and Chivalry.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Philip, brightening, ‘I didn’t know there was to be a reward.’

  ‘Only the usual one,’ said Mr Noah. ‘The Princess, you know.’

  Philip became aware that a figure in a white veil was standing quite near him; round its feet lay lengths of cut rope.

  ‘The Princess is yours,’ said Mr. Noah, with generous affability.

  ‘But I don’t want her,’ said Philip, adding by an afterthought, ‘thank you.’

  ‘You should have thought of that before,’ said Mr. Noah. ‘You can’t go doing deeds of valour, you know, and then shirking the reward. Take her. She is yours.’

  ‘Any one who likes may have her,’ said Philip desperately. ‘If she’s mine, I can give her away, can’t I? You must see yourself I can’t be bothered with princesses if I’ve got all those other deeds to do.’

  ‘That’s not my affair,’ said Mr. Noah. ‘Perhaps you might arrange to board her out while you’re doing your deeds. But at present she is waiting for you to take her by the hand and raise her veil.’

  ‘Must I?’ said Philip miserably. ‘Well, here goes.’

  He took a small cold hand in one of his and with the other lifted, very gingerly, a corner of the veil. The other hand of the Princess drew back the veil, and the Dragon-Slayer and the Princess were face to face.

  ‘Why!’ cried Philip, between relief and disgust, ‘it’s only Lucy!’

  CHAPTER V. ON THE CARPET

  The Princess was just Lucy.

  ‘It’s too bad,’ said Philip. ‘I do think.’ Then he stopped short and just looked cross.