It would be well here to point out to my readers (and especially the younger ones) that rumour is more often contradicted than confirmed by experience, and to enlarge on the moral conveyed. The reason against my doing so at length is the fear that I may become a little tedious, so I will merely state that, to the great surprise and relief of the children, there were no signs of ruthlessness about the King.
He was of great girth and he had a flowing grey beard, and in these particulars he bore out Baldry’s description of him. But his expression was one of benevolence and good humour and he smiled on the children with what, if it had not been blent with a touch of native majesty, might have been described as a sort of fatuous fatherliness.
He was richly though tastefully arrayed. His doublet was of three (or four) piled velvet, green and embroidered with gold, and his hose were shrimp pink, a colour he much affected. From his shoulders hung a sky-blue robe lined with ermine, and the crown on his partially bald head was decorated with fine repoussé work. Never had the children conceived such magnificence in a man’s dress, and they stared in wonder and admiration.
“Welcome, Sir Giles,” he said, ignoring Baldry, who went down on his knees beside the children. “Tell me who are these little ones and how came you to bring them together with this rudesby.”
“‘Rudesby’ is rather good,” observed Baldry in an interested tone.
“I found them travelling with the knave, sire,” replied Sir Giles. “And as I could not leave them alone in the forest I brought them also. But I can make nothing of their tale, sire. It appears to me such as might be told by a minstrel who had been too long at the wine-pot. A tale of a certain Countess Watkyns in that terror-haunted land beyond the deep river, and of many millions of other children, and of Snergs who are friendly with them. I leave it to your Majesty to judge, for I can make nothing of it.”
“Ah, you’re slow, that’s what’s the matter,” remarked Baldry.
“Silence, thou villain!” roared the King.
Baldry clapped both hands over his mouth with a look of extreme terror.
“Snergs, did you say?” went on the King. “Could it be possible that these little innocents know aught of that fierce and cruel race?”
“Please, sir,” said Joe, who felt that he must defend his friends, holding up one hand according to the custom of Watkyns Bay in class time. “Please, sir, we’re all very fond of the Snergs. They’re not fierce at all.”
“Not fierce, say you, little man! Nay, that passes understanding. There must be more in this than meets the eye.”
“You mean the ear, of course,” said Baldry.
“Remove me this pestilent ass!” cried the King. “We will judge his case at a fitter time.”
Four men-at-arms surrounded the jester and, at a word of command from Sir Giles, marched out with him. His really incredible folly caused him to drop on all fours and go out creeping swiftly between them; doubtless he gathered some encouragement from the smothered laughter of the more thoughtless courtiers.
Put to some extent at his ease by the King’s kind manner, Joe told the tale of their wanderings and adventures. He explained as well as he could and with Sylvia’s assistance, the way of living at Watkyns Bay, the general nature of the country beyond the deep river, and the amiable character of the Snergs, with whom the Society lived on such satisfactory terms. The King listened in deep wonder.
“Can it be,” he said, turning to the court, “that we have been in ignorance of the true nature of things beyond the river?--that we have accepted without question the traditions handed down to us, and are now to be corrected by these babes? Can it be----” He went on moralising in most approved fashion, and the courtiers made acquiescing murmurs, as was expected of them.
“But one thing is clear,” he went on. “We must pay instant attention to this Golithos, who appears to give indications of becoming a menace, and also to Mother Meldrum. She has had a good deal of rope in the past, and perchance it is the time to give her a bit more, though in a different sense of the word. They must be brought here for judgment at once. That shall be your next job, Sir Giles.”
“Oh, very well, sire,” replied Sir Giles, but not very heartily.
“And that reminds me,” said the King. “Your betrothed, the Lady Ermyntrude, can look after these little ones, for the hour is late, and we would have them to sit at our evening meal. So fair damsel,” he continued to a young lady standing nearby, “take charge of this little golden-haired maid and this sturdy male infant and see that they be given a change of raiment and also (for they are a bit grubby) the refreshment of the bath.”
The young lady, who was richly dressed, and extremely pretty (her one defect was a touch of indefinable sauciness) came forward and curtseyed. She then gave a hand to each of the children and led them forth.