Nicanor - Teller of Tales | Page 3

I would, so that they ring. Teach it me,
then!"
Susanna laughed, and stroked her boy's hot head.
"Words I have, little son," she said softly, "but I have no tune to sing

them to. A woman hath but one tune, and that is ever in the same key.
One song, and one only, in her life she hath, and when that is ended,
she is dumb. But please the good God! thou'lt have what lies behind the
words and alone makes them of value; the thought which is the
foundation-stone to build upon. And then the words will come also.
What visions hast thou seen, sonling?"
"Mother, I cannot tell, for my mouth is empty though my head rings.
Always it begins as though a curtain of mist were swept rolling back
from the face of the world, and I see below me vague mountains and
broad lonely wastes, and gray cities sleeping in dead moonlight, for it is
ever night. I see clouds that reach away to the rim of the earth, and it is
all as in a dream, and--and so deep within me that I lose it before I
know it.--Oh, I cannot tell!"
He stirred restlessly and nestled his head deeper into her breast, and she
stroked his hair in silence. When he spoke again there was a new note
in his boy's voice.
"Mother, I too will be a teller of tales, even as was that sire of my
father's sire whose name was Melchior. For in that there is to me all joy,
and no pain nor sorrow at all. And I shall be great, greater than he and
greater than those who shall come after me."
Susanna laid her hand across his mouth.
"Hush thee, for the love of dear Heaven, hush! That is boasting, and
good never came of that! Oh, little son of mine, listen to me, thy
mother,--it may be for the last time,--and keep my words always in a
corner of thy heart. They shall be as a charm to keep all danger from
thee. Pray to God nightly, the dear God of Whom I have tried to teach
thee; keep thy hands from blood, thy body from wanton sin, and thy
tongue from guile. So shalt thou be pure and thy tales prosper; for
untainted fruit never blossomed from a dunghill. Remember that the
Lord loveth all his creatures even the same as he loveth thee. As thou
hast good and evil both within thee, so have others; wherefore judge
them in mercy as thou wouldst thyself. And judge thyself in sternness
as thou wouldst them; so shalt thou keep the balance true. Now thou art

sleeping through my preaching--well, never mind! Kiss thy mother,
dear one, and I will go."
She descended the ladder; and Nicanor's voice came sleepily muffled
through the straw.
"All the same I shall be great--greater than that old man who was
before me--greater than kings--greater than any who shall come after--"
He slept, and the moonlight streamed upon him in a flood of silver.
And below, at Rathumus' side, lay Susanna, the mother, and stared
wide-eyed and wakeful through the darkness.
II
Nicanor sat beside the fire, his hands clasping his knees, his eyes
glowing in the ruddy leaping of the flames. Around him on the moor
squatted a band of belated roving shepherds, who from all the country
round were bringing their flocks to fold for the Winter. About the fire,
at discreet intervals, the sheep were herded, each flock by itself.
Around every huddle a black figure circled, staff in hand, hushing
wakeful disturbers into peace. The shepherds ringing the fire sprawled
carelessly; uncouth rough men with shaggy beards and keen eyes, their
features thrown into sharp relief against the light. Farther off, small
groups, close-sitting, cast dice upon a sheepskin with muttered growls
of laughter. The musky smell of the animals tinged the first chill of
Autumn which hung in the air. Around them the moor stretched away,
vast and silent, broken into ridges filled with impenetrable shadows
until it melted into the mystery of the night. Over the world's darkness a
slender moon, sharp-horned, wandered through rifting clouds.
Nicanor's voice rose and fell with the crackling flames. His eyes
gleamed, his face quivered; the men within hearing hung upon his
words. Gradually the dicers' laughter died; one by one they left their
clusters and joined the circle at the fire. Nicanor saw, and his heart
swelled high. This was what he loved,--to fare forth at night and come
upon such a crowd of drovers, or it might be wood-cutters or charcoal

burners; to begin his chant abruptly, in the midst of conversation; to see
his listeners draw close and closer, gazing wide-eyed, half in awe; to
move them to laughter