Tales of Wonder | Page 8

the novelty was delightful, and
then one day in a queer old inn up Uthering way, beyond Lingwold, I heard for the first
time the rumour of the city said to be on Mallington Moor. They spoke of it quite
casually over their glasses of beer, two farmers at the inn. "They say the queer folk be at
Mallington with their city," one farmer said. "Travelling they seem to be," said the other.
And more came in then and the rumour spread. And then, such are the contradictions of
our little likes and dislikes and all the whims that drive us, that I, who had come so far to
avoid cities, had a great longing all of a sudden for throngs again and the great hives of
Man, and then and there determined on that bright Sunday morning to come to
Mallington and there search for the city that rumour spoke of so strangely.
Mallington Moor, from all that they said of it, was hardly a likely place to find a thing by
searching. It was a huge high moor, very bleak and desolate and altogether trackless. It
seemed a lonely place from what they said. The Normans when they came had called it
Mal Lieu and afterwards Mallintown and so it changed to Mallington. Though what a
town can ever have had to do with a place so utterly desolate I do not know. And before
that some say that the Saxons called it Baplas, which I believe to be a corruption of Bad
Place.
And beyond the mere rumour of a beautiful city all of white marble and with a foreign
look up on Mallington Moor, beyond this I could not get. None of them had seen it
himself, "only heard of it like," and my questions, rather than stimulating conversation,
would always stop it abruptly. I was no more fortunate on the road to Mallington until the
Tuesday, when I was quite near it; I had been walking two days from the inn where I had
heard the rumour and could see the great hill steep as a headland on which Mallington lay,

standing up on the skyline: the hill was covered with grass, where anything grew at all,
but Mallington Moor is all heather; it is just marked Moor on the map; nobody goes there
and they do not trouble to name it. It was there where the gaunt hill first came into sight,
by the roadside as I enquired for the marble city of some labourers by the way, that I was
directed, partly I think in derision, to the old shepherd of Lingwold. It appeared that he,
following sometimes sheep that had strayed, and wandering far from Lingwold, came
sometimes up to the edge of Mallington Moor, and that he would come back from these
excursions and shout through the villages, raving of a city of white marble and
gold-tipped minarets. And hearing me asking questions of this city they had laughed and
directed me to the shepherd of Lingwold. One well-meant warning they gave me as I
went--the old man was not reliable.
And late that evening I saw the thatches of Lingwold sheltering under the edge of that
huge hill that Atlas-like held up those miles of moor to the great winds and heaven.
They knew less of the city in Lingwold than elsewhere but they knew the whereabouts of
the man I wanted, though they seemed a little ashamed of him. There was an inn in
Lingwold that gave me shelter, whence in the morning, equipped with purchases, I set out
to find their shepherd. And there he was on the edge of Mallington Moor standing
motionless, gazing stupidly at his sheep; his hands trembled continually and his eyes had
a blear look, but he was quite sober, wherein all Lingwold had wronged him.
And then and there I asked him of the city and he said he had never heard tell of any such
place. And I said, "Come, come, you must pull yourself together." And he looked angrily
at me; but when he saw me draw from amongst my purchases a full bottle of whiskey and
a big glass he became more friendly. As I poured out the whiskey I asked him again
about the marble city on Mallington Moor but he seemed quite honestly to know nothing
about it. The amount of whiskey he drank was quite incredible, but I seldom express
surprise and once more I asked him the way to the wonderful city. His hand was steadier
now and his eyes more intelligent and he said that he had heard something of some such
city, but his memory was evidently blurred and he was still unable to give me useful
directions. I consequently gave him another tumbler,