Everychild Part 27

CHAPTER XXVII

HOW EVIL DAYS CAME UPON THE CASTLE

As they left the temple behind them, on their return journey, Everychild could not help thinking that it was a very good thing to have found that the giant's mother was not in the temple. To his way of looking at it, this argued that she had escaped from the terrible creatures who surrounded the temple. And if so, why should they not hope to find her elsewhere?

But when at length he suggested this to his companion, the giant only replied, scarcely above a whisper, "I fear she has been slain."

And so Everychild walked by the giant's side, glancing at him anxiously from time to time, and seeing despair written so plainly on his countenance that he did not venture to utter another word.

When they approached the great entrance to the castle there was hurried running to and fro on the ramparts, about the doors and windows, and in the halls. Eager eyes looked down from the watch-tower. But soon all eagerness changed to alarm. They could all see that the giant had been smitten dreadfully: that the proud yet kindly head had been brought low.

Silence reigned in the great reception hall when the giant entered.

His friends all waited for him to speak, to relate the tale of his adventure. Many eyes rested upon him curiously, yet pityingly. And when Everychild, following the giant into the hall, placed a warning finger on his lip, the wonder grew and deepened to consternation.

For an instant the giant stood among them, his trembling hands clasping his head. He saw none of his friends. Then he suddenly tottered. He would have fallen had not certain of the king's courtiers sprang to his aid. They helped him to a chair; and there he sat with lowered eyes like one who would never lift his head again.

The physician was sent for in haste. He came and looked down upon the giant. He questioned him, but received no reply.

Then he looked upon those who surrounded him and touched his own forehead significantly. "The malady is here," he said. "This is no case for herbs and cordials."

They put the giant to bed and sent for the greatest physicians in the kingdom, including those who were skilled in ministering to the afflictions of the mind. There were muttered conferences and all the pomp which even the most cunning doctors knew how to exercise. Later there were bickerings and words of scorn and hatred among the healers.

But it seemed they could not agree upon a remedy. One suggested this, the other urged that; but the giant remained indifferent to it all--unconscious of it all. And his condition was not bettered in the least. On the contrary, he sank deeper and deeper into the despondent mood which held him.

The others discussed his strange affliction. It seemed that many of them had known of the giant's great longing to find his mother again.

For days and days he had been quitting the castle early in the morning and going upon far and dangerous journeys in the hope of finding her.

He had seemed quite confident of finding her. No wonder that he should be smitten hard, now that he had been obliged to abandon his search.

At last a new, alarming report spread through the castle: the giant was no longer remaining silent, but was addressing all who came within hearing of him. But he was speaking only evil and false words. He was depicting the whole world as a place of shame and cruelties. He was painting everything black.

Everychild listened to him speaking in this strain on one occasion, and the effect upon him was unbelievable. Everything seemed different to him. The golden furniture in the finest room in the castle no longer seemed to be of gold. It was merely painted yellow, he thought. Even the Sleeping Beauty seemed changed in his eyes. Her face did not seem so perfect, after all! There were moments when she seemed even commonplace, not to say dreadfully old-fashioned. He fought against this state of mind, but all in vain.

Seeing how things were going, the physicians urged that the giant's friends be prevented from seeing him any more. They were even for removing him to the castle dungeons and confining him. But so great was the outcry against this extreme measure that if was not carried out.

Nevertheless, as one day after another pa.s.sed, it was plain that something must be done. The giant's voice could be heard far and near, uttering evil words and pretending that things were quite unlike what they really were. And all this had an effect upon all his former companions.

Cinderella was heard to say with a fearful sigh: "I am sure the prince of the crystal slipper will never find me. It is absurd to suppose so!"

Hansel was heard to say, "Oh, yes, I get enough to eat now: but who knows how soon I shall be required to go without eating?"

Grettel said, "It's all very well, but no one can tell me we'll come to any good in this place surrounded by a forest in which there may be all kinds of monsters!"

Tom Hubbard maintained that his little black dog had never had so many fleas since the day he was born, and that it was all the fault of the old castle.

Little Bo-Peep and Little Boy Blue were seen to weep together and to confide in each other the fear that they would some day have to return to the folds to find that the wolves had become much larger and more ferocious than they had even been before.

Even the gentle Prince Arthur became moody and remarked to Everychild on one occasion, "There's always a good deal of visiting among kings, and we may expect some one to see me here sooner or later and carry word to King John. And then there will be no further liberty for me."

For the time being everybody forgot all about the Masked Lady, who sat alone much of the time, and regarded this person or that with steadfast eyes through her mask.

To speak quite plainly, the Masked Lady had been putting off to the last possible moment a step from which she could not help but shrink.

The time had come for Everychild to take that dread journey to the Mountain of Reality. She had given him as many days of grace as she could possibly permit. And at last she said solemnly:

"It shall be to-morrow."

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE MOUNTAIN OF REALITY

The next day the giant, standing out on the rampart where every one could see and hear him, was shouting--"The world is full of evil! The world is full of evil!" And his friends thought sadly of that day, now only a little while ago, when it had been his wont to say that the world was full of good--that, indeed, everything was good if you looked at it in the right way. But suddenly he stopped shouting and lifted his head.

It was the first time he had been seen to lift his head in a number of days, and it seemed very good to see him do this. He seemed to be listening intently, and also with a certain faint, dawning hope.

At the very same time Everychild lifted his head also and listened, but as he did so he clasped his hands with dread.

And also Prince Arthur and Cinderella and Hansel and Grettel and the other children lifted their heads and listened.

They had all heard some one playing on a pipe; and the sound, though distant, was very mysterious. It drifted up from the forest road. The notes continued to be heard, one by one, in the same strange, fascinating way.

It was the giant who first began to move in the direction of the sound of the pipe. He did this at first as though reluctantly; but as he continued on his way he began to walk more alertly, and presently he seemed very eager.

And then Everychild found it impossible to withstand that sound and he too moved away in the direction from which the notes of the pipe came.

And the Sleeping Beauty, with a dreamy smile on her lips, walked with him; and Cinderella followed a few steps behind. And then the others, one by one, fell into line: Hansel and Grettel, the sons and daughters of the Old Woman who lived in the shoe, Prince Arthur, Little Bo-Peep, Little Boy Blue, and last of all, Tom Hubbard and the little black dog.

They all marched down the mountain road, away from the castle; and presently they began to catch glimpses of a figure in the distance, moving on before them elusively, and leaving behind a trail of enchanting notes.

They turned into the Road of Troubled Children, and far away they marched. Far away they marched, but the figure on ahead still eluded them--save that they heard the notes of the pipe clearer and more sweet and strange.

But at last the figure that led the way could be seen more clearly, and Everychild murmured to himself; "It is the Pied Piper!" And when this thought had occurred to him he could scarcely repress his excitement.

The figure in the road before them had now halted, though the dulcet notes went on and on. It was a truly fascinating person, to say the least--with a quaint costume, including a funny cap. But presently Everychild, coming closer to the piper, drew in his breath shortly.

The player on the pipes was the Masked Lady! She might have been thought to be dreaming as she lifted and lowered her beautiful fingers where the openings in the pipe were and went on playing. Occasionally she glanced back to make sure that the children were all there.

And then something very strange occurred. The ranks of children were augmented by other children. Along the road they came dreamily and took their places in the procession. They were Little Red Riding-Hood and the Babes in the Wood (the latter brushing withered leaves from their garments) and other children whose stories are known to be sad ones. And there was Aladdin again!--carrying his lamp, and smiling a little mischievously.

Then the Masked Lady, in the guise of the Pied Piper, resumed her march, facing straight ahead, and moving with grace and majesty. And the entire procession began to move.

The children scarcely gave a thought to where they were going. Nor did they give a thought to going back. They were moved by a power which they did not understand to keep step with the music of the pipe.

On and on they marched--on and on. They pa.s.sed through silent forests and across beautiful plains, up gentle hills and through sheltered fells. And the melody of the piper became so strongly accented that they could not help keeping step, even if they had wished not to do so.