Nicanor - Teller of Tales | Page 4

or to tears, as suited him; to sway them as the
marsh winds swayed the reeds. At times, when this sense of power
shook him, he took a savage delight in seeing them turn, one to another,
great bearded men, sobbing, gasping for breath, striving for
self-control,--simple-hearted children of moor and forest, whose
emotions he could mould as a potter moulds his clay. He could have
laughed aloud, he could have sung for sheer joy and triumph, to watch
this thing. Again, he would make them shiver at his tales of the world
of darkness--shiver and glance from side to side into the outer
blackness, with eyes gleaming white in the firelight. For it was a
superstitious age, in which every field, every hearth-stone, had its
presiding genius for good or ill; and there were many things of which
men spoke with bated breath and two fingers out.
Nicanor ended his chant:
"So this man died, being unpunished, and went away into a great
country which was a field of flowers. And in the midst of the field was
a city wherein the man would enter. But even as he walked through this
field of flowers, he saw that out of the flowers ran blood, and the
flowers spoke and cried out upon him because of that thing which he
had done when he was upon the earth. And the man was sorely
frightened."
There was a mutter and a stir among the crowd. A black bulk heaved
itself up between Nicanor and the firelight, and a swollen voice cried
out:
"Now by Christ His cross, how comes it that this snipe of a stripling
may speak from his mouth of what lieth beyond the grave? For this is
death, and death is a matter concerning Holy Church alone. By what
right doth he tell us of what she says no mortal may know?"
Cries from his mates interrupted.
"Nay, Rag; shut thy gaping mouth and leave the lad in peace! And

so--and so--what then befell this wicked man, son?"
But Rag was not minded to be put aside so lightly.
"I say 'tis wrong!" he bawled. "No man, without warrant, may thus blab
of what goeth on beyond the grave!"
A voice seconded him from the outer ring, but dubiously.
"I think the Saxon right! How may we know if this lad speaks true of
that which comes to pass hereafter? Boy, what earnest canst give that
this thing happened so?"
But another shouted:
"In the name of the gods, Rag, get thee to sleep once more, thou
stupidest lout in Britain! It is a scurvy trick to waken thus at the wrong
time and trumpet thy nonsense in such fashion. Good youth canst not
skip that bit for peace's sake, and get on to the next part?"
Rag's voice blared into this one's speech.
"Nay, now I am awake, I'll not sleep again until I know if a lie hath
waked me. For if it be not the truth, it is a lie, and a lie shall have short
shrift with me!"
The men, stirred by the tale, took sides. A gale of conversation sprang
up. Some wished the story to go on; others would know by what means
this lanky youth could tell of what was to come to pass hereafter. They
knew not the word imagination. Consequently fierce arguments arose.
The burly cause of the uproar curled up and went quietly to sleep once
more, leaving his fellows to settle for themselves the questions he had
propounded. It is the way of his kind. High words fanned the spark of
their excitement. Two met with blows; one stumbled into the hot
embers. He cursed, and the light flashed on a drawn blade. Instantly the
noise redoubled. Mingled with it was the bleating of frightened sheep,
the oaths of drovers who strove to check incipient stampedes. Nicanor
hugged himself with joy. If but his father could be there to see!

Melchior, that wonderful great-sire of his, could not have so stirred
men that they were ready even for blood and violence. He, Nicanor,
could; wherefore he was greater than Melchior. His blood leaped at the
thought; he wished to proclaim his exultation to the world.
But things soon took a different turn.
In the confusion, Rag, lying almost beneath his comrades' feet, got
himself kicked. He leaped to his feet, dazed, roaring like a bull, and,
stupid lout that he was, took unreasoning vengeance upon the first
object which caught his eye. This chanced to be Nicanor.
"See what thou hast brought us to, son of perdition!" he cried. "But for
thee and thy fool's tales we should be lying asleep like good men and
true. This is thy work, with thy talk on heaven and hell and flowers