“Tell me,” said Sir Percival at length, coming to business, “to whom does this castle belong?”
It belongs to my master,” replied the jester.” One Gunthorn, a fierce and rather unscrupulous baron who is something of a scourge to the countryside. I am his privy jester—Baldry is my name—and I ought to know. Many knights have come here, striving to joust with him—but they have all gone, alas! “
“Oh! Where did they go to?”
“Not far, sir knight. There is it graveyard some furlong or so beyond these walls, and there they lie at peace, to each his little headstone. Will you pass your plate for another morsel of ham and some extra egg? “
“No, thank you,” answered Sir Percival.” I seem to have lost my appetite. And where is the baron Gunthorn at this moment?”
“Why, sir knight, he may be many, many long leagues from here, and—”
“If I can change my mind,” interrupted Sir Percival cheerfully, “I think I could eat another rasher.”
“And on the other hand,” continued Baldry, passing up the plate, “he may come home at any moment. He went off this morning to look for a wandering knight he had heard about, taking with him his men-at-arms and his cook and household varlets, as is his quaint custom. He left me in charge of his stronghold, knowing that no man dare set foot within these walls, so famed is he for ruthlessness. He has another quaint custom of sneaking in by the postern gate, so that he may observe if all is kept well in his household when he is away. But you do not eat, sir knight.”
Sir Percival pushed away his plate and thought deeply.” And what will he do if he finds you entertaining guests during his absence? “
“Good sir, ”said Baldry earnestly, “I prithee talk of cheerful things while we may. Were he to—but pardon me a moment, did I hear sounds? “
A Terrible Moment
He sprang to his feet and stood an instant anxiously listening. Then he bounded over to a door in the corner of the kitchen, flung it open, and disappeared up a spiral stone staircase. A moment later they heard the distant clanking of mail and a harsh roaring voice raised in anger. The sounds came nearer and nearer and they heard mighty feet descending the stone stairs. Gorbo snatched up his bow and pushed the children towards the door.. Sir Percival was struggling to get his helmet on, and making heavy weather of it.
“Good, lily lord,” they heard the voice of Baldry saying, “if you will but listen to reason—”
“Reason me no reason,” Interrupted the roaring voice.” If I find unbidden guests in my kitchen I’ll first flay them and afterwards slay them—”
The door was flung open and Baldry appeared alone, sweetly smiling and smiting together two pot-lids to imitate the tread of mailed feet.
“Be seated, I pray you,” he said with a ringing laugh.” Now was not this a pretty jest?”
“Ay, a right joyous jape,” said Sir Percival, pulling his helmet off with violence and displaying a pale and angry face.” Thou art altogether a choice merry varlet. Though how you manage to go on day by day without getting slain passes my understanding.”
More Trouble
“Look! “exclaimed Baldry, suddenly pointing through the open doorway. They could see across the courtyard to the door in the outer wall, and this having been left open showed a perspective of white road leading through the woods. And not so very far along the road horsemen could be seen coming up.
“Now this is no jest at all,” continued Baldry, “for here comes the ruthless baron. Let us all go far away and quickly.”
“I’m on,” said Gorbo, grabbing Sylvia’s hand.” But what do you want to go for if you belong to the place?”
“Alas! I never saw or heard of the place before this morning,” said Baldry sadly.” I was a-tramping the high road, when by ill-chance I saw that door open and nobody about, and I had just gone in and helped myself to a snack when up comes this valiant knight, thundering at the door and blowing the horn—But all is well! “he cried joyfully, leaping into the air.” He will protect us! Come along, little ones, and let’s find a nice spot to see from. Now for the shock of steeds! Now for splintering of lances! Oh, this is heavenly! “
“Well, I don’t know so much about that,” said Sir Percival disagreeably. He had now managed to get his helmet fixed on and was leading his horse through the door in the outer wall.” You see I don’t want to take an unfair advantage of this Gunthorn. He is tired from his journey, belike, and there is no honour in conquering a man who is not fresh and lively. Nay, ‘that were a ‘coward’s deed!” He blundered about, trying to mount his horse.
“But, sir knight,” pleaded Baldry piteously, throwing himself in front of him, “why spoil the fun? Here is my dear friend Gorbo, who would love to see a jousting. And these little ones, too, see their eager faces! Come, sir, here hangs the horn. One blast and Gunthorn will come spurring up to give you your heart’s desire l “
“I know my job better than you,” said Sir Percival coldly.” Stand aside, fellow, you will not induce me to take advantage of a weary man—And now you’ve done it!” he wailed, for Baldry had jumped for the horn and let out a blast that made the echoes ring.
A moment later they saw a man detach himself from the little group of approaching horsemen and speed towards them, handling the longest kind of lance in: a manner that bespoke both strength and dexterity. Sir Percival muttered something that sounded like an oath (though I hope it was not) and by a desperate effort managed to get into the saddle. He went in a bumping and jangling gallop in one direction under the trees, and Gorbo and Baldry and Sylvia and Joe and the puppy went swiftly in the opposite direction.
The Sorrows of Baldry
They heard distant shouts, as of annoyed people, which naturally encouraged them to keep up a good speed. Gorbo and Baldry helped the children along with great leaps and bounds, and they were soon deep in the silent woods, far from risk of pursuit. There they rested on a mossy bank and took things easily for a time.
“That was a jolly breakfast, you know,” said Baldry, to start the talk well.
“Yes, it was,” agreed Gorbo.” But what will this Gunthorn person say when he finds out about your making so free with the place? “
“I don’t know. And another strange thing about it is I don’t care. And his name’s not Gunthorn—at least I don’t suppose it is. You see I just made it up suddenly.”
“It’s quite a good name for a pretence baron,” said Sylvia;
“Yes, isn’t it?” Baldry was highly pleased at this remark.” It sounds so ruthless. I’m rather good at making up things.”
“I’m glad of that,”Gorbo said, “because perhaps you can make up some way of getting out of this mess. Do you know the way to get across the river?”
“No, I don’t. And I don’t know anybody who knows. And I don’t know anybody who knows anybody who knows. I wish I did, because I’d like to go with you and see Life. It’s very dull in these parts; the people have no sense of humour. And that makes it so difficult for me,” he added sadly.” I’m always misunderstood.”
“Never mind, poor thing,” said Sylvia, who had taken a great liking to him.
“The hollow world,” continued Baldry, with a suspicion of tears in his eyes, “believes a jester’s job to be all jollity; but little do they think that there may be an aching heart beneath what I must term superficial gaiety.” Sylvia stroked his hand soothingly.
“But on the other hand,” he went on in a brighter tone, “there may not be. There isn’t in my case at any rate; though I have had a peck of trouble lately. You see, only yesterday I was the King’s High Jester, and now I am wandering the earth with only three friends to love me. Four to be exact, because I include this little dog.”
“Did you get turned out? “asked Joe.
“No, not exactly; I ran too fast for that. And yet,” he went on, with a return to melancholy m
using, “it was a quaint conceit, one that might have pleased. Who would have thought that the King was so obtuse. But that is the worst of tyrants, you never, know how they’ll take things.”
“Tell us about it,” said Gorbo, “then you’ll feel better.”
“Well, it was merely a little idea of mine to brighten up Court life, which has a tendency to become dull and stuffy sometimes. You see it is the King’s custom to walk alone through the streets on the day before his birthday so as to show himself to his subjects, and to show that he is willing to unbend from State ceremonial, and so forth. It also serves to brisken their memories with regard to presents.”
“What does he do? “asked Sylvia.
“He just walks along, wearing a crown and in his best robes. And he speaks to people here and there—in a dignified way, of course—and he pats children on the head and asks their mothers how old they are, and if they had mumps—and all that sort of thing.”
“He seems quite a nice king,” Sylvia observed.
“You wait,” said Baldry, with dark meaning.” It’s only once a year that he bothers about mumps. Well, to go on with my unhappy story, I thought out a scheme for making the whole affair brighter. Though I am young and thin and have no hair to my chin, and though the King is middle-aged and fat and has a flowing beard, I so padded myself up with straw and so painted and behorsehaired myself that when I appeared in the public ways, clad in furred and tinseled robes and wearing a brass crown, there were none that did not take the jester for the king.”
“I say, this sounds rather good! “Gorbo exclaimed.
“Oh, it was very good. But listen. in lieu of the customary stately strut of His Majesty, I proceeded in a lively dance, which I have invented myself and which I have named ‘The Fawn at Play.’ There is in it a great deal of fanciful gesture and nimble leg work. In my right hand I bore a six-hooped pot; my left hand held my robe on high to give free play for my gambols. And thus, with shrill whoops of joy, I pranced among the amazed citizens.”
“Did they laugh? “asked Joe.
“Some few of the keener spirits did; but the general expression was of stolid wonder. I redoubled my efforts. Suddenly, on the completion of a series of backward somersaults, I found myself face to face with the King himself. There was that in his countenance that caused me to turn and flee, but I tripped over my robe and fell. In another instant I was seized by the guards and hurried to a dungeon.”
“What beasts! “exclaimed Sylvia.
“Yes, Sylvia, that’s what they were. And when my gossip, the jailer, told me that the King was frothing at the mouth and had sent for his High Executioner, it seemed to me a choice moment to leave his service if it could be done. My prison was in a tower which had, by great good luck, a drainpipe outside the window, so I washed off all traces of my kingly colour and slipped down. I reached the ground without other mishap than a rasping of my knees and knuckles and fled afar. Better to roam the cold world than to await the vengeance of a tyrant. So here I am, alone with you dear things in the greenwood. And very nice too.”
“Is the King very ruthless? “asked Sylvia anxiously.
“Ruthless! Oh, my! However, I’m not going to go into details because that would only frighten you and serve no useful purpose.”
“We’ve heard that things are pretty bad on this side,” said Gorbo.” And Golithos said the same.”
“Oh, yes, dear old Golithos. You told me you’d stayed a night with him. I’ve never seen him myself, but I thought of paying him a visit.”
“Don’t you do it,” said Gorbo.” He’ll bore you stiff—and there’s nothing to eat at his place but the stuff rabbits eat.”
“Then that settles that,” said Baldry.” Well, where shall we go? “
“We’d better try to find Mother Meldrum somehow. She’ll be able to tell us how to get back home.”
“Dear old Mother Meldrum! “exclaimed Baldry.” Yes, let’s go and find her; she lives somewhere in the dark woods, which are somewhere about here. I’ve always wanted to meet that dear old lady, and now I shall!”
“Is she nice then? “asked Sylvia, rather relieved at his enthusiasm.
“Well, I wouldn’t go as far as that. She’s a witch, and she’s rather noted for blighting crops and injuring folks generally and she makes a fairly good living by selling curses and nobody of any sense will go near her. But she may have her good points. Let’s go at once! “
“Look here, my dear friend,” said Gorbo, “this is all very well for you and me, but what about Sylvia and Joe? You stay here and look after them and I’ll go and see her. There’s no need for all of us to come.”
“No, Gorbo,”cried Sylvia, “we’re going where you go.”
“Of course we are,” said Joe.” Besides, it’d be rather fun to meet a real witch.”
“That’s my way of looking’ at it,” said Baldry.” Fun is the correct word. Come along, Joe, let’s look for the dark woods. I’ll race you to the top of that tree.”
He ran to an enormous tree a little distance away and Joe ran after him. In another minute the two disappeared among the leaves. Then cries of joy were heard from aloft.
“It’s lovely up here,” called Joe.” Swinging about like Billy O! “
“And the dark woods! “called Baldry.” Miles and miles and miles and miles of dark woods. Oh, this makes life really worth living!”(Certainly he seemed the kind that is easily pleased.) “Come down, Joe, we’ll show them the way.”
The two came scrambling down, and they all went on and on until the trees came to an end at a wide stretch of turf that sloped gently ,away before them. And about half a mile or so away there were other woods, stretching as far as they could see on either hand. Undoubtedly the dark woods, for nothing in the shape of woods could be darker or more dismal looking.
The Dark Woods
They went on and soon reached the edge of the sombre trees on the opposite side, and then the question was, of course, which way were they to go. Gorbo was of opinion that they had better go as straight as they could and keep their eyes open for anything like a witch’s house, but Baldry suggested that they should sit down comfortably and shout for Mother Meldrum at intervals and see if she would turn up. And considering the vast extent of the dark woods both proposals seem to me ridiculous.
The question was settled for them by the sudden appearance of a man who came walking out from the wood. He was dressed in a woolen jerkin and hose and instead of a hat he had a hood with a cape to it, as in the pictures of the cheaper sorts of medieval people, and he carried in his hand a little packet done up in leaves. From the expression of his face they judged he was not a nice man. He stared at them for an instant and then spoke angrily:
“Oh, yes, a man can’t buy a little curse without a lot of busybodies following him about! I’m not going to use it on you, am I? “
“We hope better things of you, sweet chuck,” replied Baldry.” All ‘we want is the way to Mother Meldrum’s place.”
“Oh, then all you have to do is to follow this little path.” The man appeared to be greatly relieved.” But she’s out of curses; I got the last one. You see there’s been rather a run on them lately.”
“We’ve only come for a couple of blessings,” said Baldry, as he took Sylvia’s hand and ran along the little path, followed by the others. They heard the man shouting that in that case they were going to the wrong shop, but they did not stop to argue the matter, and in a few minutes they found themselves deep in the shadow of tall mournful trees that shut out all but little chance glimpses of the sky. On either hand they could see patches of black swampy water, but the track was fairly plain (giving a hint that Mother Meldrum did a brisk business) and they went along at a good rate. There were no birds or cheerful little animals in this horrid place, but there were—as they soon became aware—bats.
Compared to
these the bats of the twisted trees were little pets. These measured six feet or more across the wings and they had beaks of. enormous size, from which issued hoarse bubbling sounds. Sylvia, who liked bats as much as she liked black-beetles, pulled her napkin cap over her eyes (she still wore this little stolen head-dress) and shuddered; but it was too late to think of turning back now however much she would have liked to. She kept close under Gorbo’s arm, and in time she began to be more used to them; after all they only flopped about and bubbled, and did not bite, which is the main thing,
The Marvellous Land of Snergs Page 9
