Rewards and Fairies
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Rudyard Kipling >> Rewards and Fairies
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'Just boy's Magic as we say. I'll show you some, some time. It
pleased him for the while, and it didn't hurt any one in particular
except a few men coming home late from the taverns. But I knew
what it was a sign of, and I followed him like a weasel follows a
rabbit. As good a boy as ever lived! I've seen him with Sir Huon
and the Lady Esclairmonde stepping just as they stepped to avoid
the track of Cold Iron in a furrow, or walking wide of some old
ash-tot because a man had left his swop-hook or spade there; and
all his heart aching to go straightforward among folk in housen all
the time. Oh, a good boy! They always intended a fine fortune for
him - but they could never find it in their heart to let him begin.
I've heard that many warned them, but they wouldn't be warned.
So it happened as it happened.
'One hot night I saw the Boy roving about here wrapped in his
flaming discontents. There was flash on flash against the clouds,
and rush on rush of shadows down the valley till the shaws were
full of his hounds giving tongue, and the woodways were packed
with his knights in armour riding down into the water-mists - all
his own Magic, of course. Behind them you could see great
castles lifting slow and splendid on arches of moonshine, with
maidens waving their hands at the windows, which all turned
into roaring rivers; and then would come the darkness of his own
young heart wiping out the whole slateful. But boy's Magic
doesn't trouble me - or Merlin's either for that matter. I followed
the Boy by the flashes and the whirling wildfire of his discontent,
and oh, but I grieved for him! Oh, but I grieved for him! He
pounded back and forth like a bullock in a strange pasture -
sometimes alone - sometimes waist-deep among his shadow-
hounds - sometimes leading his shadow-knights on a hawk-
winged horse to rescue his shadow-girls. I never guessed he had
such Magic at his command; but it's often that way with boys.
'Just when the owl comes home for the second time, I saw Sir
Huon and the Lady ride down my Hill, where there's not much
Magic allowed except mine. They were very pleased at the Boy's
Magic - the valley flared with it - and I heard them settling his
splendid fortune when they should find it in their hearts to let him
go to act and influence among folk in housen. Sir Huon was for
making him a great King somewhere or other, and the Lady was
for making him a marvellous wise man whom all should praise
for his skill and kindness. She was very kind-hearted.
'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.
Old Middenboro, the lawn-mower pony, stumped across the
paddock and hung his sorrowful head over the fence.
'A pleasant Kingdom,' said the lady, looking round. 'Well
enclosed. And how does your Majesty govern it? Who is your Minister?'
Una did not quite understand. 'We don't play that,' she said.
'Play?' The lady threw up her hands and laughed.
'We have it for our own, together,' Dan explained.
'And d'you never quarrel, young Burleigh?'
'Sometimes, but then we don't tell.'
The lady nodded. 'I've no brats of my own, but I understand
keeping a secret between Queens and their Ministers. Ay de mi!
But with no disrespect to present majesty, methinks your realm'
small, and therefore likely to be coveted by man and beast. For Is
example' - she pointed to Middenboro -'yonder old horse, with
the face of a Spanish friar - does he never break in?'
'He can't. Old Hobden stops all our gaps for us,' said Una, 'and
we let Hobden catch rabbits in the Shaw.'
The lady laughed like a man. 'I see! Hobden catches conies -
rabbits - for himself, and guards your defences for you. Does he
make a profit out of his coney-catching?'
'We never ask,' said Una. 'Hobden's a particular friend of
ours.'
'Hoity-toity!' the lady began angrily. Then she laughed. 'But I
forget. It is your Kingdom. I knew a maid once that had a larger
one than this to defend, and so long as her men kept the fences
stopped, she asked 'em no questions either.'
'Was she trying to grow flowers?'said Una.
'No, trees - perdurable trees. Her flowers all withered.' The
lady leaned her head on her hand.
'They do if you don't look after them. We've got a few. Would
you like to see? I'll fetch you some.' Una ran off to the rank grass
in the shade behind the wigwam, and came back with a handful of
red flowers. 'Aren't they pretty?' she said. 'They're Virginia stock.'
'Virginia?' said the lady, and lifted them to the fringe of
her mask.
'Yes. They come from Virginia. Did your maid ever plant any?'
'Not herself - but her men adventured all over the earth to
pluck or to plant flowers for her crown. They judged her worthy
of them.'
'And was she?' said Dan cheerfully.
'Quien sabe? [who knows?] But at least, while her men toiled
abroad she toiled in England, that they might find a safe home to
come back to.'
'And what was she called?'
'Gloriana - Belphoebe - Elizabeth of England.' Her voice
changed at each word.
'You mean Queen Bess?'
The lady bowed her head a little towards Dan. 'You name her
lightly enough, young Burleigh. What might you know of her?'
said she.
, Well, I - I've seen the little green shoes she left at Brickwall
House - down the road, you know. They're in a glass case -
awfully tiny things.'
'Oh, Burleigh, Burleigh!' she laughed. 'You are a courtier
too soon.'
'But they are,' Dan insisted. 'As little as dolls' shoes. Did you
really know her well?'
'Well. She was a - woman. I've been at her Court all my life.
Yes, I remember when she danced after the banquet at Brickwall.
They say she danced Philip of Spain out of a brand-new kingdom
that day. Worth the price of a pair of old shoes - hey?'
She thrust out one foot, and stooped forward to look at its
broad flashing buckle.
'You've heard of Philip of Spain - long-suffering Philip,' she
said, her eyes still on the shining stones. 'Faith, what some men
will endure at some women's hands passes belief! If I had been a
man, and a woman had played with me as Elizabeth played with
Philip, I would have -' She nipped off one of the Virginia stocks
and held it up between finger and thumb. 'But for all that' - she
began to strip the leaves one by one - 'they say - and I am
persuaded - that Philip loved her.' She tossed her head sideways.
'I don't quite understand,' said Una.
'The high heavens forbid that you should, wench!' She swept
the flowers from her lap and stood up in the rush of shadows that
the wind chased through the wood.
'I should like to know about the shoes,' said Dan.
'So ye shall, Burleigh. So ye shall, if ye watch me. 'Twill be as
good as a play.'
'We've never been to a play,' said Una.
The lady looked at her and laughed. 'I'll make one for you.
Watch! You are to imagine that she - Gloriana, Belphoebe, Elizabeth - has
gone on a progress to Rye to comfort her sad heart
(maids are often melancholic), and while she halts at Brickwall
House, the village - what was its name?' She pushed Puck with
her foot.
'Norgem,' he croaked, and squatted by the wigwam.
'Norgem village loyally entertains her with a masque or play,
and a Latin oration spoken by the parson, for whose false quantities,
if I'd made 'em in my girlhood, I should have been
whipped.'
'You whipped?' said Dan.
'Soundly, sirrah, soundly! She stomachs the affront to her
scholarship, makes her grateful, gracious thanks from the teeth
outwards, thus'- (the lady yawned) -'Oh, a Queen may love her
subjects in her heart, and yet be dog-wearied of 'em 'in body and
mind - and so sits down'- her skirts foamed about her as she sat -
'to a banquet beneath Brickwall Oak. Here for her sins she is
waited upon by - What were the young cockerels' names that
served Gloriana at table?'
'Frewens, Courthopes, Fullers, Husseys,' Puck began.
She held up her long jewelled hand. 'Spare the rest! They were
the best blood of Sussex, and by so much the more clumsy in
handling the dishes and plates. Wherefore' - she looked funnily
over her shoulder - 'you are to think of Gloriana in a green and
gold-laced habit, dreadfully expecting that the jostling youths
behind her would, of pure jealousy or devotion, spatter it with
sauces and wines. The gown was Philip's gift, too! At this happy
juncture a Queen's messenger, mounted and mired, spurs up the
Rye road and delivers her a letter' - she giggled -'a letter from a
good, simple, frantic Spanish gentleman called - Don Philip.'
'That wasn't Philip, King of Spain?'Dan asked.
'Truly, it was. 'Twixt you and me and the bedpost, young
Burleigh, these kings and queens are very like men and women,
and I've heard they write each other fond, foolish letters that none
of their ministers should open.'
'Did her ministers ever open Queen Elizabeth's letters?' said Una.
'Faith, yes! But she'd have done as much for theirs, any day.
You are to think of Gloriana, then (they say she had a pretty
hand), excusing herself thus to the company - for the Queen's
time is never her own - and, while the music strikes up, reading
Philip's letter, as I do.' She drew a real letter from her pocket, and
held it out almost at arm's length, like the old post-mistress in the
village when she reads telegrams.
'Hm! Hm! Hm! Philip writes as ever most lovingly. He says his
Gloriana is cold, for which reason he burns for her through a fair
written page.' She turned it with a snap. 'What's here? Philip
complains that certain of her gentlemen have fought against his
generals in the Low Countries. He prays her to hang 'em when
they re-enter her realms. (Hm, that's as may be.) Here's a list of
burnt shipping slipped between two vows of burning adoration.
Oh, poor Philip! His admirals at sea - no less than three of 'em -
have been boarded, sacked, and scuttled on their lawful voyages
by certain English mariners (gentlemen, he will not call them),
who are now at large and working more piracies in his American
ocean, which the Pope gave him. (He and the Pope should guard
it, then!) Philip hears, but his devout ears will not credit it, that
Gloriana in some fashion countenances these villains' misdeeds,
shares in their booty, and - oh, shame! - has even lent them ships
royal for their sinful thefts. Therefore he requires (which is a
word Gloriana loves not), requires that she shall hang 'em when
they return to England, and afterwards shall account to him for all
the goods and gold they have plundered. A most loving request!
If Gloriana will not be Philip's bride, she shall be his broker and
his butcher! Should she still be stiff-necked, he writes - see where
the pen digged the innocent paper! - that he hath both the means
and the intention to be revenged on her. Aha! Now we come to
the Spaniard in his shirt!' (She waved the letter merrily.) 'Listen
here! Philip will prepare for Gloriana a destruction from the West
- a destruction from the West - far exceeding that which Pedro de
Avila wrought upon the Huguenots. And he rests and remains,
kissing her feet and her hands, her slave, her enemy, or her
conqueror, as he shall find that she uses him.'
She thrust back the letter under her cloak, and went on acting,
but in a softer voice. 'All this while - hark to it - the wind blows
through Brickwall Oak, the music plays, and, with the
company's eyes upon her, the Queen of England must think what
this means. She cannot remember the name of Pedro de Avila,
nor what he did to the Huguenots, nor when, nor where. She can
only see darkly some dark motion moving in Philip's dark mind,
for he hath never written before in this fashion. She must smile
above the letter as though it were good news from her ministers -
the smile that tires the mouth and the poor heart. What shall she
do?' Again her voice changed.
'You are to fancy that the music of a sudden wavers away.
Chris Hatton, Captain of her bodyguard, quits the table all red
and ruffled, and Gloriana's virgin ear catches the clash of swords
at work behind a wall. The mothers of Sussex look round to
count their chicks - I mean those young gamecocks that waited on
her. Two dainty youths have stepped aside into Brickwall garden
with rapier and dagger on a private point of honour. They are
haled out through the gate, disarmed and glaring - the lively
image of a brace of young Cupids transformed into pale, panting
Cains. Ahem! Gloriana beckons awfully - thus! They come up for
judgement. Their lives and estates lie at her mercy whom they
have doubly offended, both as Queen and woman. But la! what
will not foolish young men do for a beautiful maid?'
'Why? What did she do? What had they done?' said Una.
'Hsh! You mar the play! Gloriana had guessed the cause of the
trouble. They were handsome lads. So she frowns a while and
tells 'em not to be bigger fools than their mothers had made 'em,
and warns 'em, if they do not kiss and be friends on the instant,
she'll have Chris Hatton horse and birch 'em in the style of the
new school at Harrow. (Chris looks sour at that.) Lastly, because
she needed time to think on Philip's letter burning in her pocket,
she signifies her pleasure to dance with 'em and teach 'em better
manners. Whereat the revived company call down Heaven's blessing
on her gracious head; Chris and the others prepare Brickwall
House for a dance; and she walks in the clipped garden between
those two lovely young sinners who are both ready to sink for
shame. They confess their fault. It appears that midway in the
banquet the elder - they were cousins - conceived that the Queen
looked upon him with special favour. The younger, taking the
look to himself, after some words gives the elder the lie. Hence, as
she guessed, the duel.'
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