_A Historical Fact_
Amongst the weary hounds refreshed with fury and triumph, Orion stepped
with his whip and drove them away from the monstrous dead body, and sent
the lash quivering round in a wide circle, while in his other hand he
took his sword and cut off the unicorn's head. He also took the skin of
the long white neck and brought it away dangling empty from the head.
All the while the hounds bayed and made eager rushes one by one at that
magical carcase whenever one saw a chance of eluding the whip; so that
it was long before Orion got his trophy, for he had to work as hard with
his whip as with his sword. But at last he had it slung by a leather
thong over his shoulders, the great horn pointing upwards past the right
side of his head, and the smeared skin hanging down along his back. And
while he arranged it thus he allowed his hounds to worry the body again
and taste that wonderful blood. Then he called to them and blew a note
on his horn and turned slowly home towards Erl, and they all followed
behind him. And the two foxes stole up to taste the curious blood, for
they had sat and waited for this.
While the unicorn was climbing his last hill Orion felt such fatigue
that he could have gone little further, but now that the heavy head hung
from his shoulders all his fatigue was gone and he trod with a lightness
such as he had in the mornings, for it was his first unicorn. And his
hounds seemed refreshed as though the blood they had lapped had some
strange power in it, and they came home riotously, gambolling and
rushing ahead as when newly loosed from their kennels.
Thus Orion came home over the downs in the night, till he saw the valley
before him full of the smoke of Erl, where one late light was burning in
a window of one of his towers. And, coming down the slopes by familiar
ways, he brought his hounds to their kennels; and just before dawn had
touched the heights of the downs he blew his horn before his postern
door. And the aged guardian of the door when he opened it to Orion saw
the great horn of the unicorn bobbing over his head.
This was the horn that was sent in later years as a gift from the Pope
to King Francis. Benvenuto Cellini tells of it in his memoirs. He tells
how Pope Clement sent for him and a certain Tobbia, and ordered them to
make designs for the setting of a unicorn's horn, the finest ever seen.
Judge then of Orion's delight when the horn of the first unicorn he ever
took was such as to be esteemed generations later the finest ever seen,
and in no less a city than Rome, with all her opportunities to acquire
and compare such things. For a number of these curious horns must have
been available for the Pope to have selected for the gift the finest
ever seen; but in the simpler days of my story the rarity of the horn
was so great that unicorns were still considered fabulous. The year of
the gift to King Francis would be about 1530, the horn being mounted in
gold; and the contract went to Tobbia and not to Benvenuto Cellini. I
mention the date because there are those who care little for a tale if
it be not here and there supported by history, and who even in history
care more for fact than philosophy. If any such reader have followed the
fortunes of Orion so far he will be hungry by now for a date or a
historical fact. As for the date, I give him 1530. While for the
historical fact I select that generous gift recorded by Benvenuto
Cellini, because it may well be that just where he came to unicorns such
a reader may have felt furthest away from history and have felt
loneliest just at this point for want of historical things. How the
unicorn's horn found its way from the Castle of Erl, and in what hands
it wandered, and how it came at last to the City of Rome, would of
course make another book.
But all that I need say now about that horn is that Orion took the whole
head to Threl, who took off the skin and washed it and boiled the skull
for hours, and replaced the skin and stuffed the neck with straw; and
Orion set it in the midmost place among all the heads that hung in the
high hall. And the rumour went all through Erl, as swift as unicorns
gallop, telling of this fine horn that Orion had won. So that the
parliament of Erl met again in the forge of Narl. They sat at the table
there debating the rumour; and others besides Threl had seen the head.
And at first, for the sake of old divisions, some held to their opinion
that there had been no unicorn. They drank Narl's goodly mead and argued
against the monster. But after a while, whether Threl's argument
convinced them, or whether as is more likely, they yielded from
generosity, which arose like a beautiful flower out of the mellow mead,
whatever it was the debate of those that opposed the unicorn
languished, and when the vote was put it was declared that Orion had
killed a unicorn, which he had hunted hither from beyond the fields we
know.
And at this they all rejoiced; for they saw at last the magic for which
they had longed, and for which they had planned so many years ago, when
all were younger and had had more hope in their plans. And as soon as
the vote was taken Narl brought out more mead, and they drank again to
mark the happy occasion: for magic at last, said they, had come on
Orion, and a glorious future surely awaited Erl. And the long room and
the candles and the friendly men and the deep comfort of mead made it
easy to look a little way forward into time and to see a year or so that
had not yet come, and to see coming glories glowing a little way off.
And they told again of the days, but nearer now, when the distant lands
should hear of the vale they loved: they told again of the fame of the
fields of Erl going from city to city. One praised its castle, another
its huge high downs, another the vale itself all hidden from every land,
another the dear quaint houses built by an olden folk, another the deep
of the woods that lay over the sky-line; and all spoke of the time when
the wide world should hear of it all, because of the magic that there
was in Orion; for they knew that the world has a quick ear for magic,
and always turns toward the wonderful even though it be nearly asleep.
Their voices were high, praising magic, telling again of the unicorn,
glorying in the future of Erl, when suddenly in the doorway stood the
Freer. He was there in his long white robe with its trimming of mauve,
in the door with the night behind him. As they looked, in the light of
their candles, they could see he was wearing an emblem, on a chain of
gold round his neck. Narl bade him welcome, some moved a chair to the
table; but he had heard them speak of the unicorn. He lifted his voice
from where he stood, and addressed them. "Cursed be unicorns," he said,
"and all their ways, and all things that be magic."
In the awe that suddenly changed the mellow room one cried: "Master!
Curse not us!"
"Good Freer," said Narl, "we hunted no unicorn."
But the Freer raised up his hand against unicorns and cursed them yet.
"Curst be their horn," he cried, "and the place where they dwell, and
the lilies whereon they feed, curst be all songs that tell of them.
Curst be they utterly with everything that dwelleth beyond salvation."
He paused to allow them to renounce the unicorns, standing still in the
doorway, looking sternly into the room.
And they thought of the sleekness of the unicorn's hide, his swiftness,
the grace of his neck, and his dim beauty cantering by when he came past
Erl in the evening. They thought of his stalwart and redoubtable horn;
they remembered old songs that told of him. They sat in uneasy silence
and would not renounce the unicorn.
And the Freer knew what they thought and he raised his hand again, clear
in the candle-light with the night behind him. "Curst be their speed,"
he said, "and their sleek white hide; curst be their beauty and all that
they have of magic, and everything that walks by enchanted streams."
And still he saw in their eyes a lingering love for those things that he
forbade, and therefore he ceased not yet. He lifted his voice yet louder
and continued, with his eye sternly upon those troubled faces: "And
curst be trolls, elves, goblins and fairies upon the Earth, and
hypogriffs and Pegasus in the air, and all the tribes of the mer-folk
under the sea. Our holy rites forbid them. And curst be all doubts, all
singular dreams, all fancies. And from magic may all true folk be turned
away. Amen."
He turned round suddenly and was into the night. A wind loitered about
the door, then flapped it to. And the large room in the forge of Narl
was as it had been but a few moments before, yet the mellow mood of it
seemed dulled and dim. And then Narl spoke, rising up at the table's end
and breaking the gloom of the silence. "Did we plan our plans," he said,
"so long ago, and put our faith in magic, that we should now renounce
magical things and curse our neighbours, the harmless folk beyond the
fields we know, and the beautiful things of the air, and dead mariners'
lovers dwelling beneath the sea?"
"No, no," said some. And they quaffed their mead again.
And then one rose with his horn of mead held high, then another and then
another, till all were standing upright all round the light of the
candles. "Magic!" one cried. And the rest with one accord took up his
cry till all were shouting "Magic."
The Freer on his homeward way heard that cry of Magic, he gathered his
sacred robe more closely around him and clutched his holy things, and
said a spell that kept him from sudden demons and the doubtful things of
the mist.