Delphi Works of Ford Madox Ford (Illustrated) (35 page)

“The Regent told me that a country couldn’t possibly exist without a King or Queen,” she said.

“Who is the Regent?” the ploughman said. He too kept his face to the fire that he could not see.

“Oh, well, he’s just the Regent of my kingdom. But I forgot you didn’t know. I am Eldrida, Queen of the Narrowlands and all the Isles.”

The little old woman looked at her interestedly.

And the ploughman said, “After all, you’re not so
very
far from your home; because one can see the coast of it quite plainly on a clear day from” Why, then you must have quite a number of people from there?” the Queen said.

But the ploughman answered, “No, hardly ever any one, because the seas run so swiftly through the straights that no boat can live in them — so people would have to come a long way round by land. Besides, they’ve got everything that we’ve got, so what could they want here?” the ploughman said, and added slily, “all except one thing, that is.”

“Why, what is that?” the Queen asked.

And the ploughman answered, “Why, the Queen, of course; because we have got her.”

But the little old woman held her hand to shield her eyes from the fire’s blaze, and looked across at the Queen.

“I shouldn’t think it was a very nice country to live in,” she said.

The Queen asked, “Why?”

“Well, one evening when we were down by the sea, we saw the whole sky lit up over there, and, later, we heard from a traveller, that the people had set fire to the town when they were fighting about who was to be Regent.”

“Yes, I’m afraid they are rather fond of doing that; but I didn’t know anything about it.”

“How was that?” the ploughman said.

And in reply, the Queen told them her story, to which they listened very attentively, and hardly interrupted at all to ask questions.

And so, it being finished, the little old woman took the Queen up to bed in a little room under the eaves, and, bidding her a kind good night, left her.

The Queen’s window looked out down the valley, and she could, as she undressed, see the moon shining placidly along it, gleaming on the dew mist, and glancing here and there on the waters of the little stream where its zigzag course caught the light. There was never a sound save the tinkle of the brook or the dull noise of a horse that moved its feet in the stable.

So the Queen fell asleep, and did not awaken till the Sun was high in the sky.

She rubbed her eyes and could not quite make out where she was at first She missed the noise of the geese, to which she had been used to awaken. But gradually it all came back to her, and for a while she lay and watched the roses that were peeping in at the window and nodding in the morning breeze.

“Come, this will never do!” the Queen said to herself “Whatever will they think of me?” So she arose from between the warm, clean sheets, and, having dressed herself, went downstairs. There she found the little old woman busy in the kitchen.

“Good morning, my dear,” she said.

And the Queen answered, “Good morning, mother.”

And the little old woman’s eyes smiled her pleasure. “I didn’t wish to wake you,” she said, “2you seemed so tired last night My son has gone off to his ploughing; but you will see him as you pass the hill, and he will guide you a little on your way, if you have to go further.” The little old woman’s eyes looked quite wistful. “We wish you would stay a little while with us; we should like it so much.”

“Why, of course I will,” the Queen said;
“
that is, if I can be of any use to you.”

“Oh yes, you can be of use,” the little old woman said. “But it is such a pleasure for us to have guests, for we like to talk with them, and we like to please them as much as may be. But here is your breakfast; you must be quite hungry. And afterwards — after to-day, that is — my son will show you all about the farm. Only to-day he wants to finish his ploughing, and I am too old to go very far up the hills.”

“It is wonderful how your son manages to work as he does,” the Queen said.

And the little old woman’s eyes looked proud and happy.

“He has lived all his life here, you see. When he was quite a baby a flash of lightning blinded him; but now he knows his way everywhere about, and he can do almost all the farm-work. Sometimes he has a boy to help him; but just now, they’re harvesting at our neighbour’s, and the boy has gone down to help. But it makes my son rather slow in his ploughing, for he has to guide himself by feeling with his feet the last furrow he has made.”

“Oh, I could lead the horses for him,” the Queen said.

And the mother answered, “Yes, do, my dear; and you can take your dinner out with you. His dog always fetches his for him.”

So the Queen finished her breakfast, and then set out along the valley towards the ploughing place.

By daylight she could see better how pleasant a place the valley was, very green in the bottom, with here and there a pollard willow by the stream, and here and there linen laid out to bleach on the grass. But the steep hills that shut it in were purple with heather, and brown with bracken, and, now and then, a lonely thorn tree. Behind her was the little white cottage, with a cluster of trees drawn down around it, and with the ducks and turkeys and chickens crowding the valley in front of it. Indeed, every now and then along the valley a lily-white duck would pop its golden-billed head out of the reeds and meadow-sweet of the stream to look at her as she passed along.

So she came to the hill where the valley made a sharp turn, and on the top of which she could see the ploughman. Up it she climbed through the heather, and speedily reached him.

“I’ve come to lead the horses for you,” she said.

And he looked towards her and smiled.

“That’s right,” he said. “Then you’re not going away just yet. It’s better here than being shut up in a palace garden, with no one but a bat to talk to.”

“It is,” the Queen said simply.

So, through the autumn day, she led the horses up and down the furrows, whilst he drove the share deep into the ground.

And through the blue sky, up the wind and down the wind, came the crows and starlings to feed on the worms that the plough turned up. So, late in the afternoon, they had come as far as he meant to go.

“Further down the hill,” he said, “the wheat would catch the north wind. So that’s enough for to-day, Queen Eldrida.”

“Don’t call me
Queen
Eldrida, because, if I am a queen, I’m not your queen. Just call me Eldrida.”

“One name’s as good as another,” he said, as he slipped on his coat “Now let’s go home, and I’ll show you a little of the valley behind the house.”

So the Queen stayed for a while with them, and did as they did. And the blind man led her up the hills, and on the hilltops called the sheep, and from all sides they came to his call.

And the Queen halved his work for him, and did those things which his want of sight prevented his doing.

Sometimes she stayed to help the little mother indoors, but, on the whole, she preferred being out in the open air with the blind man.

Then came the beginning of winter, and she went with him up the hillsides, and in among the storms to fold the sheep, and drive the cattle home to the byres.

And then midwinter, when, in the morning, they had to set to work by lanthorn light that cast a luminous yellow circle round them upon the snow, and made their great shadows dance strangely.

Then the snows swept down into the valley and covered everything up beneath the soft white waves, so that, when they wanted to go out, they had to get through one of the roof-windows, for the door was all covered up. Then indeed it was very cold work getting about, and the Queen had always to guide the blind man, because the snow had covered all his familiar landmarks. The snow made it very hard walking, too, and put the Queen quite out of breath, but he sang quite lustily a song —

“‘Cold hands, warm heart,’

Then let the wind blow cold

On oar clasped hands who fare across the wold.

“‘Hard lot, hot lore,’

Then let oar pathway go

Through lone, grey lands; knee-deep amid the snow.”

But the Queen was generally too out of breath to be able to sing at all At last, however, the snow came right over the roof-tree, and they could not go out of the house at all. So they sat quietly around a great fire, and the little old woman span, and the Queen worked at the loom, and the blind man wove baskets out of osiers. And they told tales.

Said the little old woman, “I will tell you a tale that I had from my grandmother, and she had it from hers, and so on, a great way back.

“Once upon a time, upon the earth there were no people at all, no men and women, but only little goblin things that covered the whole earth and made it a beautiful green colour. But the sun was a bright flame colour, and the moon very, very white. So the Sun and the Earth took to quarrelling as to which was the more beautiful of the two.

“Said the Earth,
 
‘I am the more beautiful; such a lovely green as mine was surely never seen.’

“Said the Sun, ‘But just look at my mantle of flame.’

“So, as they could not possibly agree, they submitted the matter to the Moon. Now, the Moon was horribly jealous of the Sun, because he so terribly outshone her; so she gave her verdict for the Earth.

“Then, indeed, the Earth was proud, and gave itself such airs and graces that not only the Sun, but the Moon and all the Stars declared war against it” So early one morning the Sun peeped up over the edge of the sea, and sent a great trail of golden warriors over it to attack the Earth- spirits.

“They, for their part, were armed and ready, and all day long they fought and fought, and at last the Sun’s warriors had to depart in a long trail over the sea to the Sun again. Then the Earth was more triumphant than ever. But, just as they were lying down to rest, slowly, slowly, the Moon came up and sent a great trail of its warriors over the sea, and the Stars poured down showers of little, little warriors, and the poor Earth-spirits had to begin and fight all through the night And, although they killed hundreds and hundreds and beat the rest off; no sooner was it done than they had to begin all over again against the Sun.

“This went on — day in, day out; night in, night out — for a long, long time, until the poor Earth- spirits grew wearier and wearier, and their lovely green colour changed into a sickly yellow hue.

“Then in despair they prayed to the spirits of the air and of the great waters to assist them. And the waters arose and covered in the Earth, and the winds of the air brought a mantle of clouds, so that the Earth was shielded from the fury of the Sun and the constellations; but, alas! when the waters receded and the skies grew clear again, it was found that all the poor Earth-spirits were drowned — all save a very few who had taken refuge on the tops of the mountains.

“So these few, having such a lot to eat, gradually grew and grew till they became men. And the dead bodies of the green Earth-spirits grew out of the Earth, too, and became the fruits of the Earth; but the dead bodies of the Sun and Moon warriors became gold and silver, and men dig them out of the Earth.

“But still the quarrel goes on; for gold and silver are man’s greatest curse, and the fruits of the Earth his one blessing.”

And so with tales and work they beguiled the time of the waiting for the snow’s melting, and at last it came. The valley was filled with the roaring of the brook, grown large with the melting of the snows, and the robin sang from the copses.