Once on a Time Part 9

"Thank you, your Royal Highness. And now perhaps I had better go and see about it at once."

She curtsied deeply, and then, remembering her position, saluted and marched off.

Now Roger Scurvilegs would see her go without a pang; he would then turn over to his next chapter, beginning "Meanwhile the King----," and leave you under the impression that the Countess Belvane was a common thief. I am no such chronicler as that. At all costs I will be fair to my characters.

Belvane, then, had a weakness. She had several of which I have already told you, but this is another one. She had a pa.s.sion for the distribution of largesse.

I know an old gentleman who plays bowls every evening. He trundles his skip (or whatever he calls it) to one end of the green, toddles after it, and trundles it back again. Think of him for a moment, and then think of Belvane on her cream-white palfrey tossing a bag of gold to right of her and flinging a bag of gold to left of her, as she rides through the cheering crowds; upon my word I think hers is the more admirable exercise.

And, I a.s.sure you, no less exacting. When once one has got into this habit of "flinging" or "tossing" money, to give it in any ordinary way, to slide it gently into the palm, is unbearable. Which of us who has, in an heroic moment, flung half a crown to a cabman can ever be content afterwards to hold out a handful of three-penny bits and coppers to him? One must always be flinging. . . .

So it was with Belvane. The largesse habit had got hold of her. It is an expensive habit, but her way of doing it was less expensive than most. The people were taxed to pay for the Amazon Army; the pay of the Amazon Army was flung back at them; could anything be fairer?

True, it brought her admiration and applause. But what woman does not like admiration? Is that an offence? If it is, it is something very different from the common theft of which Roger Scurvilegs would accuse her. Let us be fair.

CHAPTER VI

THERE ARE NO WIZARDS IN BARODIA

Meanwhile "the King of Euralia was prosecuting the war with utmost vigour."

So says Roger in that famous chapter of his, and certainly Merriwig was very busy.

On the declaration of war the Euralian forces, in accordance with custom, had marched into Barodia. However hot ran the pa.s.sion between them, the two Kings always preserved the elementary courtesies of war.

The last battle had taken place in Euralian territory; this time, therefore, Barodia was the scene of the conflict. To Barodia, then, King Merriwig had led his army. Suitable pasture land had been allotted them as a camping ground, and amid the cheers of the Barodian populace the Euralians made their simple preparations for the night.

The two armies had now been sitting opposite to each other for some weeks, but neither side had been idle. On the very first morning Merriwig had put on his Cloak of Darkness and gone to the enemy's camp to explore the situation. Unfortunately the same idea had occurred at the same moment to the King of Barodia. He also had his Cloak of Darkness.

Half way across, to the utmost astonishment of both, the two Kings had come violently into contact. Realising that they had met some unprecedented enchantment, they had hurried home after the recoil to consult their respective Chancellors. The Chancellors could make nothing of it. They could only advise their Majesties to venture another attempt on the following morning.

"But by a different route," said the Chancellors, "whereby the Magic Pillar shall be avoided."

So by the more southerly path the two Kings ventured out next morning.

Half way across there was another violent collision, and both Kings sat down suddenly to think it out.

"Wonder of wonders," said Merriwig. "There is a magic wall stretching between the two armies."

"He stood up and holding up his hand said impressively:

"_Bo, boll, bill, bole._ _Wo, woll----_"

"Mystery of mysteries!" cried the King of Barodia. "It can----"

He stopped suddenly. Both Kings coughed. They were remembering with some shame their fright of yesterday.

"Who are you?" said the King of Barodia.

Merriwig saw that there was need to dissemble.

"His Majesty's swineherd," he said, in what he imagined might be a swineherd's voice.

"Er--so am I," said the King of Barodia, rather feebly.

There was obviously nothing for it but for them to discuss swine.

Merriwig was comfortably ignorant of the subject. The King of Barodia knew rather less than that.

"Er--how many have you?" asked the latter.

"Seven thousand," said Merriwig at random.

"Er--so have I," said the King of Barodia, still more feebly.

"Couples," explained Merriwig.

"Mine are ones," said the King of Barodia, determined to be independent at last.

Each King was surprised to find how easy it was to talk to an expert on his own subject. The King of Barodia, indeed, began to feel reckless.

"Well," he said, "I must be getting back. It's--er--milking time."

"So must I," said Merriwig. "By the way," he added, "what do you feed yours on?"

The King of Barodia was not quite sure if it was apple sauce or not.

He decided that perhaps it wasn't.

"That's a secret," he said darkly. "Been handed down from generation to generation."

Merriwig could think of nothing better to say to this than "Ah!" He said it very impressively, and with a word of farewell returned to his camp.

He was in brilliant form over the wa.s.sail bowl that night as he drew a picture of his triumphant dissimulation. It is only fair to say that the King of Barodia was in brilliant form too. . . .

For several weeks after this the battle raged. Sometimes the whole Euralian army would line up outside its camp and call upon the Barodians to fight; at other times the Barodian army would form fours in full view of the Euralians in the hope of provoking a conflict. At intervals the two Chancellors would look up old spells, scour the country for wizards, or send each other insulting messages. At the end of a month it was difficult to say which side had obtained the advantage.

A little hill surmounted by a single tree lay half way between the two camps. Thither one fine morning came the two Kings and the two Chancellors on b.l.o.o.d.y business bent. (The phrase is Roger's.) Their object was nothing less than to arrange that personal fight between the two monarchs which was always a feature of Barodo-Euralian warfare. The two Kings having shaken hands, their Chancellors proceeded to settle the details.

"I suppose," said the Chancellor of Barodia, "that your Majesties will wish to fight with swords?"

"Certainly," said the King of Barodia promptly; so promptly that Merriwig felt certain that he had a Magic Sword too.

"Cloaks of Darkness are not allowed, of course," said the Chancellor of Euralia.

"Why, have _you_ got one?" said each King quickly to the other.

Merriwig was the first to recover himself.

"I have one--naturally," he said. "It's a curious thing that the only one of my subjects who has one is my--er--swineherd."