There was a good deal of ringing of bells at Banrive when the joyous band of Snergs and Dutchmen arrived with the children safe and sound, and it was known that Golithos and Mother Meldrum had passed away.
The ass had been found trying to rub its load off against a tree, and the Snergs had untied the bundles and selected whatever there was of value in them and thrown the rest away. Then they put Joe and Sylvia on the ass and started back, singing sea chanties which the Dutchmen had taught them. Sylvia soon got over the worst of her shock, and though she was a good deal worried about the crumpled and dirty state of her pretty new dress, she was able in time to join modestly in the chorus. Joe did not have so much shock to get over because he was the sort that does not trouble about troubles that are past and he sang lustily.
Gorbo was given the place of honour in front and he came along with a light step although he was carrying Golithos’ enormous axe, which was his according to the rules of war. He was the subject of a good deal of jovial badinage on account of the cat Gubbins, which had not gone to join its brother cats (now doubtless great hunters in the land of barren rocks) but had attached itself to him. It may have been that it liked Gorbo’s cast of countenance or it may have been that it considered a man with a bag of fish something to stay by, but I leave this for naturalists to decide; all I know is that it went ahead of him, with its tail well up, stepping rather in the manner of goats belonging to certain British regiments.
King Kul embraced the children, almost with tears, and with his own hands gave Sylvia the puppy, which had been wandering disconsolately about looking for them. He made a speech thanking the Snergs and the seamen for their great service in his dominions. When King Merse told him that Gorbo had slain Golithos single-handed he merely said, “Indeed? And very creditable of him—considering.” He could never quite overcome his dislike of Gorbo.
But nobler feelings prevailed. He went to his privy-chambers and rummaged in a little chest of drawers. Returning to the hall he bade Gorbo approach and kneel.
“By this,” he said, placing round his neck a cherry-coloured ribbon with a medallion, “I make you a Companion of the Order of Errant Tinkers. See that you wear it worthily.”
Amid a murmur of applause the blushing Gorbo rose and thanked him gratefully and retired backwards. He was filled with a pride and joy that left him dizzy. At last it was officially recognized that he had escaped from the reproach of being the biggest fool of the race of Snergs. Sylvia and Joe ran to him and demanded to see. The medallion was a tasteful thing, representing a man in full armour mending a saucepan (Sir Bors, a tinker knighted on the field of battle). The order was an ancient one and Gorbo had full reason to be proud. It carried with it the freedom of the City and the right to remove his boots (if they hurt him) in the presence of the King.
The Lady Ermyntrude took charge of the children and told them to change into their Watkyns Bay uniforms (which had been washed and ironed) while their new clothes were sent to the dry cleaners. These were expeditious people and they promised to have them restored to their original beauty by noon on the following day; to the great joy of Sylvia, who loved her dress with the golden bees.
It was a happy time for all. Sir Giles returned in a very peevish frame of mind at the ill-success of his journey, but when he heard that the children had been brought safely back he came clashing in and embraced them with ardour. He said that perchance now they would let him look forward to a good night’s rest. He changed from his travel-stained armour into a suit of murrey-coloured velvet in which he looked rather well, and he sat with the Lady Ermyntrude behind some curtains and held her hand, in spite of her warnings that people would see. Baldry (who I fear will never learn) tried to promote the gaiety of courts by creeping behind him and smiting him on the head with his bladder stick; but he had to flee from the palace and hide for the rest of the day, since the King refused to grant him protection, saying: “Now perhaps you’ll think before acting.”