_The Unicorn Comes in the Starlight_
And winter came, and whitened the roofs of Erl, and all the forest and
uplands. And when Orion took his hounds afield in the morning the world
lay like a book that was newly written by Life; for all the story of the
night before lay in long lines in the snow. Here the fox had gone and
there the badger, and here the red deer had gone out of the wood; the
tracks led over the downs and disappeared from sight, as the deeds of
statesmen, soldiers, courtiers and politicians appear and disappear on
the pages of history. Even the birds had their record on those white
downs, where the eye could follow each step of their treble claws, till
suddenly on each side of the track would appear three little scars where
the tips of their longest feathers had flicked the snow, and there the
track faded utterly. They were like some popular cry, some vehement
fancy, that comes down on a page of history for a day, and passes,
leaving no other record at all except those lines on one page.
And amongst all these records left of the story of night Orion would
choose the track of some great stag not too long gone, and would follow
it with his hounds away over the downs until even the sound of his horn
could be heard no longer in Erl. And over a ridge with his hounds, he
and they all black against red remnants of sunset, the folk of Erl would
see him coming home; and often it was not until all the stars were
glowing through the frost. Often the skin of a red deer hung over his
shoulders and the huge horns bobbed and nodded above his head.
And at this time there met one day in the forge of Narl, all unknown to
Orion, the men of the parliament of Erl. They met after sunset when all
were home from their work. And gravely Narl handed to each the mead that
was brewed from the clover honey; and when all were come they sat
silent. And then Narl broke the silence, saying that Alveric ruled over
Erl no more and his son was Lord of Erl, and telling again how once they
had hoped for a magic lord to rule over the valley and to make it
famous, and saying that this should be he. "And where now," he said, "is
the magic for which we hoped? For he hunts the deer as all his
forefathers hunted, and nothing of magic has touched him from over
there; and there is no new thing."
And Oth stood up to defend him. "He is as fleet as his hounds," he said,
"and hunts from dawn to sunset, and crosses the furthest downs and comes
home untired."
"It is but youth," said Guhic. And so said all but Threl.
And Threl stood up and said: "He has a knowledge of the ways of the
woods, and the lore of the beasts, beyond the learning of man."
"You taught him," said Guhic. "There is no magic here."
"Nothing of this," said Narl, "is from over there."
Thus they argued awhile lamenting the loss of the magic for which they
had hoped: for never a valley but history touches it once, never a
village but once its name is awhile on the lips of men; only the village
of Erl was utterly unrecorded; never a century knew it beyond the round
of its downs. And now all their plans seemed lost which they made so
long ago, and they saw no hope except in the mead that was brewed from
the clover honey. To this they turned in silence. Now it was a goodly
brew.
And in a while new plans flashed clear in their minds, new schemes, new
devices; and debates in the parliament of Erl flowed proudly on. And
they would have made a plan and a policy; but Oth arose from his seat.
There was in a flint-built house in the village of Erl an ancient
Chronicle, a volume bound in leather, and in it at certain seasons folk
wrote all manner of things, the wisdom of farmers concerning the time to
sow, the wisdom of hunters concerning the tracking of stags, and the
wisdom of prophets that told of the way of Earth. From this Oth quoted
now, two lines that he remembered on one of the aged pages; and all the
rest of that page told of hoeing; these lines he said to the parliament
of Erl as they sat with the mead before them at their table:
"Hooded, and veiled with their night-like tresses,
The Fates shall bring what no prophet guesses."
And then they planned no more, for either their minds were calmed by a
certain awe that they seemed to find in the lines, or it may be the mead
was stronger than anything written in books. However it be they sat
silent over their mead. And in early starlight while the West still
glowed they passed away from Narl's house back to their own homes
grumbling as they went that they had no magic lord to rule over Erl, and
yearning for magic, to save from oblivion the village and valley they
loved. They parted one by one as they came to their houses. And three or
four that dwelt near the end of the village on the side that was under
the downs were not yet come to their doors, when, white and clear in the
starlight and what remained of the gloaming, they saw hard-pressed and
wearied a hunted unicorn coming across the downs. They stopped and gazed
and shaded their eyes and stroked their beards and wondered. And still
it was a white unicorn galloping wearily. And then they heard drawing
nearer the cry of Orion's hounds.