remain of his small furry beast, but there was hunger in him and little
reason as he searched among the ashes. What he found there amazed him
beyond measure; there was no meat, there was not even his row of
reddish-brown stones, but something longer than a man's leg and narrower
than his hand, was lying there like a great flattened snake. When Loz
looked at its thin edges and saw that it ran to a point, he picked up
stones to chip it and make it sharp. It was the instinct of Loz to sharpen
things. When he found that it could not be chipped his wonderment
increased. It was many hours before he discovered that he could sharpen
the edges by rubbing them with a stone; but at last the point was sharp,
and all one side of it except near the end, where Loz held it in his hand.
And Loz lifted it and brandished it, and the Stone Age was over. That
afternoon in the little encampment, just as the tribe moved on, the Stone
Age passed away, which, for perhaps thirty or forty thousand years, had
slowly lifted Man from among the beasts and left him with his supremacy
beyond all hope of reconquest.
It was not for many days that any other man tried to make for himself an
iron sword by cooking the same kind of small furry beast that Loz had
tried to cook. It was not for many years that any thought to lay the meat
along stones as Loz had done; and when they did, being no longer on the
plains of Thold, they used flints or chalk. It was not for many
generations that another piece of iron ore was melted and the secret
slowly guessed. Nevertheless one of Earth's many veils was torn aside by
Loz to give us ultimately the steel sword and the plough, machinery and
factories; let us not blame Loz if we think that he did wrong, for he did
all in ignorance. The tribe moved on until it came to water, and there it
settled down under a hill, and they built their huts there. Very soon they
had to fight with another tribe, a tribe that was stronger than they; but
the sword of Loz was terrible and his tribe slew their foes. You might
make one blow at Loz, but then would come one thrust from that iron sword,
and there was no way of surviving it. No one could fight with Loz. And he
became ruler of the tribe in the place of Iz, who hitherto had ruled it
with his sharp axe, as his father had before him.
Now Loz begat Lo, and in his old age gave his sword to him, and Lo ruled
the tribe with it. And Lo called the name of the sword Death, because it
was so swift and terrible.
And Iz begat Ird, who was of no account. And Ird hated Lo because he was
of no account by reason of the iron sword of Lo.
One night Ird stole down to the hut of Lo, carrying his sharp axe, and he
went very softly, but Lo's dog, Warner, heard him coming, and he growled
softly by his master's door. When Ird came to the hut he heard Lo talking
gently to his sword. And Lo was saying, "Lie still, Death. Rest, rest, old
sword," and then, "What, again, Death? Be still. Be still."
And then again: "What, art thou hungry, Death? Or thirsty, poor old sword?
Soon, Death, soon. Be still only a little."
But Ird fled, for he did not like the gentle tone of Lo as he spoke to his
sword.
And Lo begat Lod. And when Lo died Lod took the iron sword and ruled the
tribe.
And Ird begat Ith, who was of no account, like his father.
Now when Lod had smitten a man or killed a terrible beast, Ith would go
away for a while into the forest rather than hear the praises that would
be given to Lod.
And once, as Ith sat in the forest waiting for the day to pass, he
suddenly thought he saw a tree trunk looking at him as with a face. And
Ith was afraid, for trees should not look at men. But soon Ith saw that it
was only a tree and not a man, though it was like a man. Ith used to speak
to this tree, and tell it about Lod, for he dared not speak to any one
else about him. And Ith found comfort in speaking about Lod.
One day Ith went with his stone axe into the forest, and stayed there many
days.
He came back by night, and the next morning when the tribe awoke they saw
something that was like a man and yet was not a man. And it sat on the
hill with its elbows pointing outwards and was quite still. And Ith was
crouching before it, and hurriedly placing before it fruits and flesh, and
then leaping away from it and looking frightened. Presently all the tribe
came out to see, but dared not come quite close because of the fear that
they saw on the face of Ith. And Ith went to his hut, and came back again
with a hunting spear-head and valuable small stone knives, and reached out
and laid them before the thing that was like a man, and then sprang away
from it.
And some of the tribe questioned Ith about the still thing that was like a
man, and Ith said, "This is Ged." Then they asked, "Who is Ged?" and Ith
said, "Ged sends the crops and the rain; and the sun and the moon are
Ged's."
Then the tribe went back to their huts, but later in the day some came
again, and they said to Ith, "Ged is only as we are, having hands and
feet." And Ith pointed to the right hand of Ged, which was not as his
left, but was shaped like the paw of a beast, and Ith said, "By this ye
may know that he is not as any man."
Then they said, "He is indeed Ged." But Lod said, "He speaketh not, nor
doth he eat," and Ith answered, "The thunder is his voice and the famine
is his eating."
After this the tribe copied Ith, and brought little gifts of meat to Ged;
and Ith cooked them before him that Ged might smell the cooking.
One day a great thunderstorm came trampling up from the distance and raged
among the hills, and the tribe all hid away from it in their huts. And Ith
appeared among the huts looking unafraid. And Ith said little, but the
tribe thought that he had expected the terrible storm because the meat
that they had laid before Ged had been tough meat, and not the best parts
of the beasts they slew.
And Ged grew to have more honour among the tribe than Lod. And Lod was
vexed.
One night Lod arose when all were asleep, and quieted his dog, and took
his iron sword and went away to the hill. And he came on Ged in the
starlight, sitting still, with his elbows pointing outwards, and his
beast's paw, and the mark of the fire on the ground where his food had
been cooked.
And Lod stood there for a while in great fear, trying to keep to his
purpose. Suddenly he stepped up close to Ged and lifted his iron sword,
and Ged neither hit nor shrank. Then the thought came into Lod's mind,
"Ged does not hit. What will Ged do instead?"
And Lod lowered his sword and struck not, and his imagination began to
work on that "What will Ged do instead?"
And the more Lod thought, the worse was his fear of Ged.
And Lod ran away and left him.
Lod still ruled the tribe in battle or in the hunt, but the chiefest
spoils of battle were given to Ged, and the beasts that they slew were
Ged's; and all questions that concerned war or peace, and questions of law
and disputes, were always brought to him, and Ith gave the answers after
speaking to Ged by night.
At last Ith said, the day after an eclipse, that the gifts which they
brought to Ged were not enough, that some far greater sacrifice was
needed, that Ged was very angry even now, and not to be appeased by any
ordinary sacrifice.
And Ith said that to save the tribe from the anger of Ged he would speak
to Ged that night, and ask him what new sacrifice he needed.
Deep in his heart Lod shuddered, for his instinct told him that Ged wanted
Lod's only son, who should hold the iron sword when Lod was gone.
No one would dare touch Lod because of the iron sword, but his instinct
said in his slow mind again and again, "Ged loves Ith. Ith has said so.
Ith hates the sword-holders."
"Ith hates the sword-holders. Ged loves Ith."
Evening fell and the night came when Ith should speak with Ged, and Lod
became ever surer of the doom of his race.
He lay down but could not sleep.
Midnight had barely come when Lod arose and went with his iron sword again
to the hill.
And there sat Ged. Had Ith been to him yet? Ith whom Ged loved, who hated
the sword-holders.
And Lod looked long at the old sword of iron that had come to his
grandfather on the plains of Thold.
Good-bye, old sword! And Lod laid it on the knees of Ged, then went away.
And when Ith came, a little before dawn, the sacrifice was found
acceptable unto Ged.
THE IDLE CITY
There was once a city which was an idle city, wherein men told vain tales.
And it was that city's custom to tax all men that would enter in, with the
toll of some idle story in the gate.
So all men paid to the watchers in the gate the toll of an idle story, and
passed into the city unhindered and unhurt. And in a certain hour of the
night when the king of that city arose and went pacing swiftly up and down
the chamber of his sleeping, and called upon the name of the dead queen,
then would the watchers fasten up the gate and go into that chamber to the
king, and, sitting on the floor, would tell him all the tales that they
had gathered. And listening to them some calmer mood would come upon the
king, and listening still he would lie down again and at last fall asleep,
and all the watchers silently would arise and steal away from the chamber.
A while ago wandering, I came to the gate of that city. And even as I came
a man stood up to pay his toll to the watchers. They were seated
cross-legged on the ground between him and the gate, and each one held a
spear. Near him two other travellers sat on the warm sand waiting. And the
man said:
"Now the city of Nombros forsook the worship of the gods and turned
towards God. So the gods threw their cloaks over their faces and strode
away from the city, and going into the haze among the hills passed through
the trunks of the olive groves into the sunset. But when they had already
left the Earth, they turned and looked through the gleaming folds of the
twilight for the last time at their city; and they looked half in anger
and half in regret, then turned and went away for ever. But they sent back
a Death, who bore a scythe, saying to it: 'Slay half in the city that
forsook us, but half of them spare alive that they may yet remember their
old forsaken gods.'
"But God sent a destroying angel to show that He was God, saying unto him:
'Go into that city and slay half of the dwellers therein, yet spare a half
of them that they may know that I am God.'
"And at once the destroying angel put his hand to his sword, and the sword
came out of the scabbard with a deep breath, like to the breath that a
broad woodman takes before his first blow at some giant oak. Thereat the
angel pointed his arms downwards, and bending his head between them, fell
forward from Heaven's edge, and the spring of his ankles shot him
downwards with his wings furled behind him. So he went slanting earthward
through the evening with his sword stretched out before him, and he was
like a javelin that some hunter hath hurled that returneth again to the
earth: but just before he touched it he lifted his head and spread his
wings with the under feathers forward, and alighted by the bank of the
broad Flavro that divides the city of Nombros. And down the bank of the
Flavro he fluttered low, like to a hawk over a new-cut cornfield when the
little creatures of the corn are shelterless, and at the same time down
the other bank the Death from the gods went mowing.
"At once they saw each other, and the angel glared at the Death, and the
Death leered back at him, and the flames in the eyes of the angel
illumined with a red glare the mist that lay in the hollows of the sockets
of the Death. Suddenly they fell on one another, sword to scythe. And the
angel captured the temples of the gods, and set up over them the sign of
God, and the Death captured the temples of God, and led into them the
ceremonies and sacrifices of the gods; and all the while the centuries
slipped quietly by, going down the Flavro seawards.
"And now some worship God in the temple of the gods, and others worship the
gods in the temple of God, and still the angel hath not returned again to
the rejoicing choirs, and still the Death hath not gone back to die with
the dead gods; but all through Nombros they fight up and down, and still
on each side of the Flavro the city lives."
And the watchers in the gate said, "Enter in."
Then another traveler rose up, and said:
"Solemnly between Huhenwazy and Nitcrana the huge grey clouds came
floating. And those great mountains, heavenly Huhenwazi and Nitcrana, the
king of peaks, greeted them, calling them brothers. And the clouds were
glad of their greeting, for they meet with companions seldom in the lonely
heights of the sky.
"But the vapours of evening said unto the earth-mist, 'What are those
shapes that dare to move above us and to go where Nitcrana is and
Huhenwazi?'
"And the earth-mist said in answer unto the vapours of evening, 'It is
only an earth-mist that has become mad and has left the warm and
comfortable earth, and has in his madness thought that his place is with
Huhenwazi and Nitcrana.'
"'Once,' said the vapours of evening, 'there were clouds, but this was
many and many a day ago, as our forefathers have said. Perhaps the mad one
thinks he is the clouds.'
"Then spake the earth-worms from the warm deeps of the mud, saying 'O
earth-mist, thou art indeed the clouds, and there are no clouds but thou.
And as for Huhenwazi and Nitcrana, I cannot see them, and therefore they
are not high, and there are no mountains in the world but those that I
cast up every morning out of the deeps of the mud.'
"And the earth-mist and the vapours of evening were glad at the voice of
the earth-worms, and looking earthward believed what they had said.
"And indeed it is better to be as the earth-mist, and to keep close to the
warm mud at night, and to hear the earth-worm's comfortable speech, and
not to be a wanderer in the cheerless heights, but to leave the mountains
alone with their desolate snow, to draw what comfort they can from their
vast aspect over all the cities of men, and from the whispers that they
hear at evening of unknown distant gods."
And the watchers in the gate said, "Enter in."
Then a man stood up who came out of the west, and told a western tale. He
said:
"There is a road in Rome that runs through an ancient temple that once the
gods had loved; it runs along the top of a great wall, and the floor of
the temple lies far down beneath it, of marble, pink and white.
"Upon the temple floor I counted to the number of thirteen hungry cats.
"'Sometimes,' they said among themselves, 'it was the gods that lived
here, sometimes it was men, and now it's cats. So let us enjoy the sun on
the hot marble before another people comes.'
"For it was at that hour of a warm afternoon when my fancy is able to hear
silent voices.
"And the awful leanness of all those thirteen cats moved me to go into a
neighbouring fish shop, and there to buy a quantity of fishes. Then I
returned and threw them all over the railing at the top of the great wall,
and they fell for thirty feet, and hit the sacred marble with a smack.
"Now, in any other town but Rome, or in the minds of any other cats, the
sight of fishes falling out of heaven had surely excited wonder. They rose
slowly, and all stretched themselves, then they came leisurely towards the
fishes. 'It is only a miracle,' they said in their hearts."
And the watchers in the gate said, "Enter in."
Proudly and slowly, as they spoke, drew up to them a camel, whose rider
sought entrance to the city. His face shone with the sunset by which for
long he had steered for the city's gate. Of him they demanded toll.
Whereat he spoke to his camel, and the camel roared and kneeled, and the
man descended from him. And the man unwrapped from many silks a box of
divers metals wrought by the Japanese, and on the lid of it were figures
of men who gazed from some shore at an isle of the Inland Sea. This he
showed to the watchers, and when they had seen it, said, "It has seemed to
me that these speak to each other thus:
"'Behold now Oojni, the dear one of the sea, the little mother sea that
hath no storms. She goeth out from Oojni singing a song, and she returneth
singing over her sands. Little is Oojni in the lap of the sea, and scarce
to be perceived by wondering ships. White sails have never wafted her
legends afar, they are told not by bearded wanderers of the sea. Her
fireside tales are known not to the North, the dragons of China have not
heard of them, nor those that ride on elephants through Ind.
"'Men tell the tales and the smoke ariseth upwards; the smoke departeth
and the tales are told.
"'Oojni is not a name among the nations, she is not know of where the
merchants meet, she is not spoken of by alien lips.
"'Indeed, but Oojni is a little among the isles, yet is she loved by those
that know her coasts and her inland places hidden from the sea.
"Without glory, without fame, and without wealth, Oojni is greatly loved
by a little people, and by a few; yet not by few, for all her dead still
love her, and oft by night come whispering through her woods. Who could
forget Oojni even among the dead?
"For here in Oojni, wot you, are homes of men, and gardens, and golden
temples of the gods, and sacred places inshore from the sea, and many
murmurous woods. And there is a path that winds over the hills to go into
mysterious holy lands where dance by night the spirits of the woods, or
sing unseen in the sunlight; and no one goes into these holy lands, for
who that love Oojni could rob her of her mysteries, and the curious aliens
come not. Indeed, but we love Oojni though she is so little; she is the
little mother of our race, and the kindly nurse of all seafaring birds.
"And behold, even now caressing her, the gentle fingers of the mother sea,
whose dreams are far with that old wanderer Ocean.
"And yet let us forget not Fuzi-Yama, for he stands manifest over clouds
and sea, misty below, and vague and indistinct, but clear above for all
the isles to watch. The ships make all their journeys in his sight, the
nights and the days go by him like a wind, the summers and winters under
him flicker and fade, the lives of men pass quietly here and hence, and
Fuzi-Yama watches there--and knows."
And the watchers in the gate said, "Enter in."
And I, too, would have told them a tale, very wonderful and very true; one
that I had told in many cities, which as yet had no believers. But now the
sun had set, and the brief twilight gone, and ghostly silences were rising
from far and darkening hills. A stillness hung over that city's gate. And
the great silence of the solemn night was more acceptable to the watchers
in the gate than any sound of man. Therefore they beckoned to us, and
motioned with their hands that we should pass untaxed into the city. And
softly we went up over the sand, and between the high rock pillars of the
gate, and a deep stillness settled among the watchers, and the stars over
them twinkled undisturbed.
For how short a while man speaks, and withal how vainly. And for how long
he is silent. Only the other day I met a king in Thebes, who had been
silent already for four thousand years.
THE HASHISH MAN
I was at a dinner in London the other day. The ladies had gone upstairs,
and no one sat on my right; on my left there was a man I did not know, but
he knew my name somehow apparently, for he turned to me after a while, and
said, "I read a story of yours about Bethmoora in a review."
Of course I remembered the tale. It was about a beautiful Oriental city
that was suddenly deserted in a day--nobody quite knew why. I said, "Oh,
yes," and slowly searched in my mind for some more fitting acknowledgment
of the compliment that his memory had paid me.
I was greatly astonished when he said, "You were wrong about the gnousar
sickness; it was not that at all."
I said, "Why! Have you been there?"
And he said, "Yes; I do it with hashish. I know Bethmoora well." And he
took out of his pocket a small box full of some black stuff that looked
like tar, but had a stranger smell. He warned me not to touch it with my
finger, as the stain remained for days. "I got it from a gipsy," he said.
"He had a lot of it, as it had killed his father." But I interrupted him,
for I wanted to know for certain what it was that had made desolate that
beautiful city, Bethmoora, and why they fled from it swiftly in a day.
"Was it because of the Desert's curse?" I asked. And he said, "Partly it
was the fury of the Desert and partly the advice of the Emperor Thuba
Mleen, for that fearful beast is in some way connected with the Desert on
his mother's side." And he told me this strange story: "You remember the
sailor with the black scar, who was there on the day that you described
when the messengers came on mules to the gate of Bethmoora, and all the
people fled. I met this man in a tavern, drinking rum, and he told me all
about the flight from Bethmoora, but knew no more than you did what the
message was, or who had sent it. However, he said he would see Bethmoora
once more whenever he touched again at an eastern port, even if he had to
face the Devil. He often said that he would face the Devil to find out the
mystery of that message that emptied Bethmoora in a day. And in the end he
had to face Thuba Mleen, whose weak ferocity he had not imagined. For one
day the sailor told me he had found a ship, and I met him no more after
that in the tavern drinking rum. It was about that time that I got the
hashish from the gipsy, who had a quantity that he did not want. It takes
one literally out of oneself. It is like wings. You swoop over distant
countries and into other worlds. Once I found out the secret of the
universe. I have forgotten what it was, but I know that the Creator does
not take Creation seriously, for I remember that He sat in Space with all
His work in front of Him and laughed. I have seen incredible things in
fearful worlds. As it is your imagination that takes you there, so it is
only by your imagination that you can get back. Once out in aether I met a
battered, prowling spirit, that had belonged to a man whom drugs had
killed a hundred years ago; and he led me to regions that I had never
imagined; and we parted in anger beyond the Pleiades, and I could not
imagine my way back. And I met a huge grey shape that was the Spirit of
some great people, perhaps of a whole star, and I besought It to show me
my way home, and It halted beside me like a sudden wind and pointed, and,
speaking quite softly, asked me if I discerned a certain tiny light, and I
saw a far star faintly, and then It said to me, 'That is the Solar
System,' and strode tremendously on. And somehow I imagined my way back,
and only just in time, for my body was already stiffening in a chair in my
room; and the fire had gone out and everything was cold, and I had to move
each finger one by one, and there were pins and needles in them, and
dreadful pains in the nails, which began to thaw; and at last I could move
one arm, and reached a bell, and for a long time no one came, because
every one was in bed. But at last a man appeared, and they got a doctor;
and HE said that it was hashish poisoning, but it would have been all
right if I hadn't met that battered, prowling spirit.
"I could tell you astounding things that I have seen, but you want to know
who sent that message to Bethmoora. Well, it was Thuba Mleen. And this is
how I know. I often went to the city after that day you wrote of (I used
to take hashish of an evening in my flat), and I always found it
uninhabited. Sand had poured into it from the desert, and the streets were
yellow and smooth, and through open, swinging doors the sand had drifted.
"One evening I had put the guard in front of the fire, and settled into a
chair and eaten my hashish, and the first thing that I saw when I came to
Bethmoora was the sailor with the black scar, strolling down the street,
and making footprints in the yellow sand. And now I knew that I should see
what secret power it was that kept Bethmoora uninhabited.
"I saw that there was anger in the Desert, for there were storm clouds
heaving along the skyline, and I heard a muttering amongst the sand.
"The sailor strolled on down the street, looking into the empty houses as
he went; sometimes he shouted and sometimes he sang, and sometimes he
wrote his name on a marble wall. Then he sat down on a step and ate his
dinner. After a while he grew tired of the city, and came back up the
street. As he reached the gate of green copper three men on camels
appeared.
"I could do nothing. I was only a consciousness, invisible, wandering: my
body was in Europe. The sailor fought well with his fists, but he was
over-powered and bound with ropes, and led away through the Desert.
"I followed for as long as I could stay, and found that they were going by
the way of the Desert round the Hills of Hap towards Utnar Véhi, and then
I knew that the camel men belonged to Thuba Mleen.