Messer Marco Polo | Page 5

will remember. I fought at the
Wilderness."
I forbore asking him what change he had found. I saw his quivering
nostrils.
In a few days he would proceed south, when he had orientated himself
after the days of shipboard.

That night it seemed every one chose to come in and cluster around the
fire. Randall, the poet; and the two blond Danish girls, with their hair
like flax; Fraser, the golfer, just over from Prestwick; and a young
writer, with his spurs yet to win; and this one. . .and that one.
They all kept silence as old Malach spoke, sportsmen, artists, men and
women of the world; a hush came on them and their eyes showed they
were not before the crackling fire in the long rooms but amazed in the
Antrim glens.
Yes, old Malachi said, things were changed over there, and a greater
change was liable. . .People whispered that in the Valley of the Black
Pig the Boar without Bristles had been seen at the close of the day, and
in Templemore there was a bleeding image, and these were ominous
portents. . .Some folks believed and some didn't. . . And the great Irish
hunter that had won the Grand National, the greatest horse in the
world. . .But our Man of War, Malachi?. . Oh, sure, all he could do was
run, and a hare or a greyhound could beat him at that; but Shawn
Spadah, a great jumper him, as well as a runner; in fine, a horse. . .And
did I know that Red Simon McEwer of Cushundall had gone around
Portrush in eighteen consecutive fours? . . .A Rathlin Islander had tried
the swim across to Scotland, but didn't make it, and there was great
arguing as to whether it was because of the currents or of lack of
strength. . .There were rumblings in the Giants' Causeway. . .very
strange. . .A woman in Oran had the second sight, the most powerful
gift of second sight in generations. . .There was a new piper in Islay,
and it was said he was a second McCrimmon. . .And a new poet had
arisen in Uist, and all over the Highlands they were reciting his songs
and his "Lament for the Bruce". . .Was I still as keen for, did I still
remember the poems, and the great stories?. . .
"'Behold, the night is of great length,'" I quoted, "'Unbearable. Tell us,
therefore, of those wondrous deeds.'"
"If you've remembered your Gaidhlig as you've remembered your
Greek!"
"It's a long time since you've had a story of me, twelve long years, and

it's a long time before you'll have another, and I going away tomorrow.
Old Sergeant Death has his warrant out for me this many a day, and it's
only the wisdom of an old dog fox that eludes him; but he'll lay me by
the heels one of these days. . .then there'll be an end to the grand
stories. . .So after this, if you're wanting a story, you must be writing it
yourself. . .
"But before I die, I'll leave you the story of Marco Polo. There's been a
power of books written about Marco Polo. The scholars have pushed up
their spectacles and brushed the cobwebs from their ears, and they've
said, 'There's all there is about Marco Polo.'
"But the scholars are a queer and blind people, Brian Oge. I've heard
tell there's a doctor in Spain can weigh the earth. But he can't plow a
furrow that is needful, for planting corn. The scholars can tell how
many are the feathers in a bird's wing, but it takes me to inform the
doctors why the call comes to them, and they fly over oceans without
compass or sextant or sight of land.
"Did you ever see a scholar standing in front of a slip of a girl? In all
his learning he can find nothing to say to her. And every penny poet in
the country knows.
"Let you be listening now, Brian Oge, and let also the scholars be
listening. But whether the scholars do or not, I'm not caring. A pope
once listened to me with great respect, and a marshal of France and
poets without number. But the scholars do be turning up their noses.
And, mind you, I've got as much scholarship as the next man, as you'll
see from my story.
"Barring myself, is there no one in this house that takes snuff? No! Ah,
well, times do be changing."
CHAPTER I
Now it's nearing night on the first day of spring, and you could see how
loath day was to be going for even the short time until the rising of the
sun again. And though there was a