IX

But Van Tiefel was no longer in Cadiz! On the outbreak of the treaty,

the Spanish authorities had given the Dutch merchant four-and-twenty

hours to leave the country, and had seized his property, making him

understand that it was only by a signal mercy that his life was spared.

Amyntas rushed down to the harbour in dismay. The good ship _Calderon_

had already sailed. Amyntas cursed his luck, he cursed himself; above

all, he cursed the lovely Spanish lady whose charms had caused him to

delay his search for Van Tiefel till the ship had gone on its eastward

journey.

After looking long and wistfully at the sea, he turned back into the

town and rambled melancholy through the streets, wondering what would

become of him. Soon the pangs of hunger assailed him, and he knew the

discomfort of a healthy English appetite. He hadn't a single farthing,

and even Scotch poets, when they come to London to set the Thames on

fire, are wont to put a half-crown piece in their pockets. Amyntas

meditated upon the folly of extravagance, the indiscretion of youth and

the wickedness of woman.... He tightened his belt and walked on. At

last, feeling weary and faint with hunger, he lay down on the steps of a

church and there spent the night. When he awoke next morning, he soon

remembered that he had slept supperless; he was ravenous. Suddenly his

eye, looking across the square, caught sight of a book shop, and it

occurred to him that he might turn to account the books which his father

and the parson had given him. He blessed their foresight. The Bible

fetched nothing, but the Aristotle brought him enough to keep him from

starvation for a week. Having satisfied his hunger, he set about trying

to find work. He went to booksellers and told them his accomplishments,

but no one could see any use in a knowledge of Greek, Latin and the

Hebrew Bible. He applied at shops. Growing bolder with necessity, he

went into merchants' offices, and to great men's porters, but all with

great civility sent him about his business, and poor Amyntas was no more

able to get work than nowadays a professional tramp or the secretary of

a trade's union.

Four days he went on, trying here and trying there, eating figs and

melons and bread, drinking water, sleeping beneath archways or on the

steps of churches, and he dreamed of the home of roast beef and ale

which he had left behind him. Every day he became more disheartened. But

at last he rose up against Fate; he cursed it Byronically. Every man's

hand was against him; his hand should be against every man. He would be

a brigand! He shook off his feet the dust of Cadiz, and boldly went into

the country to find a band of free companions. He stopped herdsmen and

pedlars and asked them where brigands were. They pointed to the

mountains, and to the mountains he turned his face. He would join the

band, provoke a quarrel with the chief, kill him and be made chief in

his stead. Then he would scour the country in a velvet mask and a peaked

hat with a feather in it, carrying fire and desolation everywhere. A

price would be set on his head, but he would snap his fingers in the

face of the Prime Minister. He would rule his followers with an iron

hand. But now he was in the midst of the mountains, and there were not

the smallest signs of lawless folk, not even a gibbet with a skeleton

hanging in chains to show where lawless folk had been. He sought high

and low, but he never saw a living soul besides a few shepherds clothed

in skins. It was most disheartening! Once he saw two men crouching

behind a rock, and approached them; but as soon as they saw him they ran

away, and although he followed them, shouting that they were not to be

afraid since he wanted to be a brigand too, they paid no attention, but

only ran the faster, and at last he had to give up the chase for want of

breath. One can't be a robber chief all by oneself, nor is it given to

everyone in this world to be a brigand. Amyntas found that even heroes

have their limitations.

X

One day, making his way along a rocky path, he found a swineherd

guarding his flock.

'Good-morrow!' said the man, and asked Amyntas whither he was bound.

'God knows!' answered Amyntas. 'I am wandering at chance, and know not

where I go.'

'Well, youth, stay the night with me, and to-morrow you can set out

again. In return for your company I will give you food and shelter.'

Amyntas accepted gratefully, for he had been feeding on herbs for a

week, and the prospect of goat's milk, cheese and black bread was like

the feast of Trimalchion. When Amyntas had said his story, the herdsman

told him that there was a rich man in the neighbouring village who

wanted a swineherd, and in the morning showed him the way to the rich

man's house.

'I will come a little way with you lest you take the wrong path.' ...

They walked along the rocky track, and presently the way divided.

'This path to the right leads to the village,' said the man.

'And this one to the left, swineherd?'

The swineherd crossed himself.

'Ah! that is the path of evil fortune. It leads to the accursed cavern.'

A cold wind blew across their faces.

'Come away,' said the herdsman, shuddering. 'Do you not feel on your

face the cold breath of it?'

'Tell me what it is,' said Amyntas. He stood looking at the opening

between the low trees.

'It is a lake of death--a lake beneath the mountain--and the roof of it

is held up by marble columns, which were never wrought by the hand of

man. Come away! do you not feel on your face the cold breath of it?'

He dragged Amyntas away along the path that led to the village, and when

the way was clear before him, turned back, returning to his swine. But

Amyntas ran after him.

'Tell me what they say of the accursed cavern.'

'They say many things. Some say it is a treasure-house of the Moors,

where they have left their wealth. Some say it is an entrance to the

enchanted land; some say it is an entrance to hell itself.... Venturous

men have gone in to discover the terrible secret, but none has returned

to tell it.'

Amyntas wandered slowly towards the village. Were his dreams to end in

the herding of swine? What was this cavern of which the herdsman spoke?

He felt a strange impulse to go back and look at the dark opening

between the little trees from which blew the cold wind.... But perhaps

the rich man had a beauteous daughter; history is full of the social

successes of swine herds. Amyntas felt a strange thrill as the dark lake

came before his mind; he almost heard the lapping of the water....

Kings' daughters had often looked upon lowly swineherds and raised them

to golden thrones. But he could not help going to look again at the dark

opening between the little trees. He walked back and again the cold

breath blew against his face; he felt in it the icy coldness of the

water. It drew him in; he separated the little trees on either side. He

walked on as if a hidden power urged him. And now the path became less

clear; trees and bushes grew in the way and hindered him, brambles and

long creeping plants twisted about his legs and pulled him back. But the

wind with its coldness of the black water drew him on.... The birds of

the air were hushed, and not one of the thousand insects of the wood

uttered a note. Great trees above him hid the light. The silence was

ghastly; he felt as if he were the only person in the world.

Suddenly he gave a cry; he had come to the end of the forest, and before

him he saw the opening of the cavern. He looked in; he saw black,

stagnant water, motionless and heavy, and, as far as the eye could

reach, sombre pillars, covered with green, moist slime; they stood half

out of the water, supporting the roof, and from the roof oozed moisture

which fell in heavy drops, in heavy drops continually. At the entrance

was a little skiff with a paddle in it.

Amyntas stood at the edge. Dared he venture? What could there be behind

that darkness? The darkness was blacker than the blackest night. He

stepped into the boat. Should he go? With beating heart he untied the

rope; he hardly dared to breathe. He pushed away.