The fact that you passed through our gates unharmed,” continued Huon, “means that you were not sent or summoned by them.” With a quick movement, he raised his hand and made a sign that the children did not understand.
them? Sarah asked before biting into her sandwich. This talk about the gate gave them confidence, because now they could return the way they had come.
Enemies, - responded Huon, - those forces of darkness which are at war against all good, fair and correct. Black sorcerers, witches, sorcerers, werewolves, vampires, cannibals - the enemy has as many names as Avalon itself - many guises and ways to hide, some pleasant to look at, but mostly disgusting. They are the shadows of darkness, they have long sought to capture Avalon, and then to defeat other worlds, and over your part of these enemies and the Dark Forces.
We are in danger here because by spells and treachery they have taken three talismans from us: Excalibur, Merlin's ring, and the horn - all within three days. And if we go to battle without them… ah, ah…,” Huon shook his head, “we will be like warriors chained hand and foot in heavy chains.
Then he suddenly asked:
Do you have the privilege of cold iron?
They looked at him in bewilderment as he pointed to one of the knives in the basket.
What metal is it forged from?
Stainless steel,” Greg replied. “But what does that have to do with…?”
Stainless steel,” Huon interrupted. “But you don’t have iron—cold iron smelted by mortals in the mortal world?” Or do you also need silver?
We do have some silver, Sarah entered. From the breast pocket of her shirt she pulled out a folded handkerchief, which contained the rest of her allowance for the week, ten and twenty-five cents.
What's with the iron and silver? Eric wanted to know.
This, - Juan took out a knife from its scabbard. In the shade of the willow, the blade shone as brightly as if it had been held straight. sunshine. And when he turned it, the metal sparkled with sparks of fire, as if sparks flew from burning wood.
This silver was forged by the dwarves - this is not cold iron. Because those who come from Avalon cannot hold an iron blade in their hands, otherwise it will burn to the ground.
Greg lifted up the spoon he was using to pick the dirt.
Steel is iron, but I don't burn.
Ah, Huon smiled. “But you are not from Avalon. So did I, and so did Arthur. Once I fought with an iron sword and went to battle in iron mail. But here in Avalon, I have hidden all of this equipment so as not to harm those who come after me. That's why I wear a silver blade and silver armor, just like Arthur. For the kind of elves, iron breaks good spells, it is a poison that gives deep, unhealed wounds. In all of Avalon, there used to be only two items made of real iron. And now they've been taken from us, perhaps to our destruction. He twisted the gleaming knife between his fingers so that the sparks splattered blindingly.
And what are those two iron objects that you lost? Sarah asked.
Have you heard of the Excalibur sword?
Arthur's sword is the one he pulled out of the rock, Greg reported and noticed Huon chuckling softly at him.
But Arthur is just a legend, isn't that what you said? Although it seems to me that you know the story quite well.
Of course, Greg said impatiently, everyone knows about King Arthur and his sword. Uh, I read about this when I was just a little kid. But that doesn't make it true," he finished a little belligerently.
And Excalibur was one of the things you lost,” Sara insisted.
Not lost. I already said that it was stolen from us with one spell, and hidden with another, which Merlin cannot undo. Excalibur disappeared, and Merlin's ring, which was also made of iron and had great power, because whoever wears it can command animals and birds, trees and earth. Sword, ring and horn...
Was he made of iron too?
No. But it was a magical item, it was given to me by the king of the elves Oberon, who was once the supreme ruler of this country. It can help or it can destroy. Once he almost killed me, and many times he came to my aid. But now I don't have the Horn and most of my power is gone, and that's bad, very bad for Avalon!
Who stole them? Eric asked.
Enemies, who else? Now they are gathering all their strength to fall on us, and with their sorcery to smash all our valuables to pieces. In the Beginning of All, Avalon was destined to stand as a wall between darkness and your mortal world. When we push the darkness back and keep it under control, peace reigns in your world. But if the darkness breaks through, gaining victories, then you in turn experience deprivation, war, evil.
Avalon and your world are mirror images of each other, but in such a way that even Merlin Ambrosius cannot understand it, and he knows the heart of Avalon, and he is the greatest of all those born of a mortal woman and the king of the elves. What happens to us will happen to you. And now evil is raising its head. At first it inaudibly penetrated in an almost imperceptible stream, and now it has the audacity to challenge us to open battle. And our talisman is gone, and what kind of people or even sorcerers will be able to foresee what will happen to Avalon and its sister world?
And why did you want to know if we can handle iron? Greg asked.
Huon hesitated for a moment, his eyes wandering over the boys and Sarah. Then he took a deep breath, as if about to dive into a pool.
When someone passes through the gate, it means that he was called, and here his fate awaits. Only the greatest magic can open his way back from Avalon. And cold iron is your magic, just as we have other magic.
Eric jumped to his feet.
I do not believe in this! It's all made up, and we immediately return to where we came from. Let's go. Greg! Sarah, let's go!
Greg stood up slowly. Sarah didn't move at all. Eric tugged at his brother's hand.
You made the notches on the way to the gate, right? he shouted. - Show me where. Let's go, Sarah!
She was packing a basket.
Good. Walk straight.
Eric turned and ran. Sarah looked directly into Huon's brown eyes.
The gate is actually closed, right? she asked. - We can't leave until your magic releases us, right? - Sarah did not know how she guessed about it, but she was sure that she was telling the truth.
Greg moved closer.
Which choice? You mean we'll have to stay here until we do something. What? Can I bring back Excalibur, or is it a ring, or a horn?
Huon shrugged.
It's not for me to talk about it. We can only know the truth in Caer Siddi, or the Castle of the Four Corners.
Is it far from here? Sarah asked.
If you walk, maybe. And for the Mountain Horse, this is not a distance at all.
Huon stepped out of the shade of the willow onto the sunlit bank of the stream. He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled piercingly.
He was answered from the sky above his head. Sarah stared with bulging eyes, and Greg screamed. There was a splash as the water churned around the hooves, and the flapping of huge wings. Two black horses stood in a shallow stream, cold water washing their feet. But what horses! webbed wings like bats were folded on mighty shoulders, and they shook their heads and greeted the person who called them. They did not have saddles or bridles, but it was clear that they appeared to serve Huon.
One of them bent her head to drink, snorting into the water, and again raising her muzzle from which the drops flew. The other trotted out onto the beach, and stuck her head in Greg's direction, examining the boy with a certain amount of interest.
This is Kem, and this is Sitta, - as soon as Huon said their names, both horses bowed and neighed softly. “They are as familiar with airways as they are with earthly roads. And they'll get us to Caer Siddi before the sun goes down.
Greg! Sarah! - Eric shouted, running out of the thicket. - The gates are gone, I went back through the notches - there are no gates, only densely standing trees!
Didn't I say it wasn't time for the return yet? Huon nodded. - For this you need to find the correct key.
Sarah tightly gripped the basket. She believed in it from the very beginning. But when Eric said it, it had a sobering effect.
Good, - Greg turned to face the winged horses. - Then let's go. I want to know about the key, and about when we get home again.
Eric moved in step beside Sarah, patting the basket with his hand.
Why are you hanging around with her? Leave her here.
Huon came to her aid.
The girl is right, Eric. Because there is another kind of enchantment in Avalon: those who eat its food and drink its wine and water cannot easily leave Avalon unless they change in the most serious way. Take care of the rest of your food and drink, and add it to ours when you take breakfast.
Greg and Eric scrambled onto Sitta, Eric tightly wrapped around his brother's waist, Greg's hands clutching at the horse's mane. Huon seated Sara in front of him on Kem. The horses galloped, then broke into a gallop and their wings opened. Then they began to gain height over the sun-drenched water and the green lace of trees.
Kem made a circle and headed southwest, Sitta walking side by side, wing to wing. A flock of large black birds rose from the field and flew with them for some time, calling in cracked, harsh voices, until the horses overtook them.
At first Sarah was afraid to look down at the ground. In fact, she closed her eyes tightly, glad that Huon's arm was tightly hugging her, and the stone wall of his body could be felt from behind. Her head began to spin as she thought about what lay below, and then… She heard Huon laugh.
Well, Lady Sarah, it's not bad at all to travel like this. People have long envied birds because of their wings, and this is how mortal man is closest to their flight, of course, if they are not enchanted, and no longer people. I would never let you jump like a colt from heavenly pastures. But who is a reliable horse, and will not joke with us. Is that so, father of the Swift Runners?
The horse neighed and Sarah dared to open her eyes. In fact, it was not so scary to watch the green plain float by below. Then there was a flash of light ahead, much like the sparks from Huon's knife, only much, much larger. This sun reflected off the roofs of four high towers, enclosed in a rectangle by walls of grey-green stone.
This is Caer Siddi, the Castle of the Four Corners, which became the western fortification of Avalon, just as Camelot was to the east. Hey, Kem, land more carefully, there is a general gathering outside the walls!
They circled far beyond the four outer towers, and Sarah looked down. People moved below. On the highest tower a banner fluttered, a green banner the same color as Huon's waistcoat, with a dragon embroidered in gold upon it.
High walls rose up around them, and Sarah quickly closed her eyes again. Then Huon's arm tensed, and Kem was already galloping, not flying. They were on the ground.
People crowded around, so many people that Sarah at first noticed only their unusual attire. She stood on the paving stones and was glad when Greg and Eric joined her.
Blimey! Well, we are going! Eric couldn't resist.
We bet that even a jet plane will not overtake them!
Greg was more interested in what was around them now.
Archers! No, look at their bows!
Sarah looked in the direction her brother was pointing. The archers were dressed alike, very similar to Huon. But they were also wearing shirts of many silver rings connected together, and over them - gray robes with green and gold dragons on the chest. Their silver helmets were set so deep that it was hard to make out their features. Each carried a bow as tall as himself, and a quiver filled with arrows hung over his shoulder.
Behind the line of archers was a crowd of people. They also wore ring shirts and dragon-embroidered robes. But they had long hoods tied around their necks, and instead of bows, swords hung from their belts, and each had a small decoration of feathers on his helmet.
Behind the sword-wielding men stood the ladies. Sarah felt terribly embarrassed about her jeans and shirt, which had been clean in the morning but was now dirty and torn. No wonder Huon took her for a boy if the women in Avalon dressed like that! Most of them had long braids with sparkling threads woven into them. Long flowery dresses were intercepted by a belt at the waist, and long sleeves hung down, sometimes to the ground.
One of the ladies, with dark curly hair framing her face, wearing a blue-green dress that rustled as she moved, approached them. On her head was a golden diadem with a pearl, and others made way for her as a queen.
The ruler of Avalon, - Huon came closer to her. “These three entered through the Fox Gate, freely and unhindered. This is Lady Sarah and her brothers Greg and Eric. And this is Lady Claramond, my wife, and therefore the Sovereign of Avalon.
For some reason, just saying "hello" seemed uncomfortable. Sarah smiled hesitantly, and the lady returned her smile. Then the lady put her hands on Sarah's shoulder, and because she was short, she only had to bend down a little to kiss the girl on the forehead.
Welcome, thrice welcome." Lady Claramond smiled again and turned to Eric, who was terribly embarrassed when she greeted him with the same kiss, and then turned to Greg. - Wish you have a nice rest within these walls. May peace be with you.
Thank you, Eric choked out. But to Sarah's surprise, Greg gave a real bow, and seemed quite pleased with himself.
Then another figure greeted them. A crowd of knights and archers opened the way for him, just as the ladies parted before Claramond. Only this time it was not a warrior who came out to them, but A tall man in a simple gray attire, on which red lines intertwined and twisted in a strange pattern. His hair was gray, the color of his clothes, and lay on his shoulders in thick strands that tangled on his chest with a wide beard. Sarah had never seen such clear eyes - those eyes made you believe that he looked right into you, and saw everything there, both bad and good.
Instead of a belt, he had a ribbon of the same crimson color as the pattern on his robe. And if you look at her carefully, it seemed that she was moving, as if she were living her own life.
So you finally came.” He surveyed Lowry with a slightly stern look.
At first, Sarah felt uncomfortable, but when those dark eyes looked directly at her, the fear was gone, only awe remained. She had never seen anyone like this man, but she was sure that he was not plotting evil against her. In fact, quite the contrary, something emanated from him and gave her confidence, removing the almost imperceptible feeling of discomfort that she had felt since she had passed through the gate.
Yes, Merlin, they've come. And not in vain, let's hope not in vain.
When Dan and Una agreed to go for a walk before breakfast, it never occurred to them that today was Midsummer morning. They only wanted to see the otter, which, according to Hobden, hunted in the stream, and it was possible to watch for it only at dawn. When they tiptoed out of the house, it was still surprisingly quiet, and only the clock on the church tower struck five times. Dan took a few steps across the dew-strewn lawn and, looking at his feet, said resolutely:
“I think the boots are worth keeping. They, poor things, will get soaked through here!
This summer, the children were no longer allowed to walk barefoot, as they had been last year, but their shoes interfered with them, so, taking them off and hanging them by their tied laces around their necks, they merrily splashed on the wet grass, on which, so unusually, not in the evening, stretched long shadows. The sun had risen and was warm enough, but the last shreds of night fog still hung over the creek. Having attacked a chain of otter tracks, they followed them along the coast between thickets of weeds and a swampy meadow. Soon the trail turned to the side and became indistinct - like a log being dragged across the grass. He led them to Three Cow Lawn, across the mill dam to the Forge, then past the Hobden Gardens, and finally lost himself in the ferns and mosses at the foot of Enchanted Hill. In a thicket nearby, the cries of pheasants were heard.
- Nothing will come of it! Dan exclaimed, poking back and forth like a bewildered greyhound. “The dew is already drying up, and Hobden says otters can easily travel miles.
"We've covered many miles too," Una said, fanning herself with her hat. - How quiet! Today is going to be a real mess! She looked around the valley, where no chimney had yet begun to smoke.
“And Hobden is already up!” - Dan pointed to the open door of the house at the Forge. What do you think he has for breakfast today?
One of these, probably. - Una nodded towards a large pheasant, proudly marching towards the stream. He says they taste good at any time of the year.
A few steps away from them, a fox jumped out of nowhere, barked in fright, and took off running.
- Oh, Mr. Reynolds, Mr. Reynolds, See the story "Crossing the Elphants". ( Note. R. Kipling.) Dan said, obviously imitating Hobden. - If I only knew what lies in your cunning head, what a wise man I would be!
“You know,” Una whispered, “there is such a strange feeling, as if all this has already happened to you. When you said "Mr. Reynolds", I suddenly felt...
- Don't explain! I felt the same. They looked at each other and fell silent…
- Wait a minute! Dan started again. I seem to be starting to think. It has to do with the fox... What happened last summer... No, I can't remember!
- Wait a minute! Una exclaimed, dancing with excitement. “That was before we met the fox last year… Hills!” Magic Hills - the play we played - come on, come on! ..
- I remembered! Dan shouted. - Clear as day! It was Puck - Puck from the Fairy Hills!
- Well, of course! – joyfully picked up Una. And today is Midsummer's Day again!
A young fern on a hillock stirred, and Puck came out - himself, with a green reed in his hand.
Good morning, magical morning! What a pleasant meeting! They shook hands, and questions began immediately.
"You've had a good winter," Puck finally summed up, looking the boys up and down. “It doesn’t look like anything bad happened to you.
“They make us wear boots,” Dan complained. “Look, my legs are not tanned at all. And how it presses the fingers, you know?
“Hmmm… without shoes, of course, is another matter. Pak twisted his tanned, crooked, hairy leg and deftly plucked a dandelion, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.
“I also did that last summer,” Dan said and tried to repeat, but he didn’t succeed. “And it’s absolutely impossible to climb trees in boots,” he added with annoyance.
“There must be some use for them, since people wear them,” Puck remarked thoughtfully. - Shall we go that way?
They moved slowly to the field gate at the other end of the rolling meadow. There they paused, exactly like cows, warming their backs in the sun and listening to the buzz of mosquitoes in the forest.
“The Limes are already awake,” Una said, pulling herself up and clinging her chin to the top rail of the goal. - See, the stove is lit?
Today is Thursday, isn't it? Puck turned and looked at the smoke billowing from the roof of the old farmhouse. Mrs. Vincey bakes bread on Thursdays. In such weather, the rolls should turn out lush. He yawned, so contagiously that the guys yawned too.
The bushes near them rustled, quivered and twitched, as if small flocks of unknown creatures were making their way through the thickets.
– Who is it there? Doesn't it look like... People from the Hills? Una asked cautiously.
“These are just small birds and animals hurrying to get deeper into the forest from uninvited guests,” Pak answered confidently, like an experienced forester.
- Oh sure. I just wanted to say, by the sound you would think...
“As far as I remember, there was a lot more noise from the People from the Hills. They settled down for daytime rest just like small birds settle down for the night. But, my gods! how arrogant and proud they were in those days! In what cases and events I took part! - you will not believe.
- I'm sure it's terribly interesting! Dan exclaimed. “Especially after what you told us last summer!”
“But he made me forget everything, as soon as we parted,” Una added.
Park laughed and shook his head.
“And this year you will hear something. It was not for nothing that I gave you Old England as your possession and delivered you from Fear and Doubt. Only in the intervals between stories, I myself will guard your memories, how old Billy Trot guarded his fishing rods at night: if anything, he will reel it up and hide it. Do you agree? And he winked wickedly.
- And what is left for us? Una laughed. “We don’t know how to do magic!” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the gate. “Really, could you bewitch me?” For example, turn into an otter?
“Now I couldn’t. The shoes that are around your neck interfere.
- I'll take them off! The lace-up boots flew into the grass. Dan threw his own there. - And now?
“Now I can’t even. You trusted me. When they truly believe, magic is useless. Puck smiled widely.
"But what's with the shoes?" Una asked, settling herself on the top rail of the goal.
“They have Cold Iron in them,” Puck explained as he sat down next to her. - Nails in soles. In fact of the matter.
- So what?
"Don't you feel it yourself?" You don't feel like running barefoot all day again like you did last summer, do you? To be honest?
- Sometimes you want ... But, of course, not all day. I’m already big,” Una sighed.
“Do you remember,” Dan intervened, “you told us a year ago—well, then, after the show on the Long Slope—that you weren’t afraid of Cold Iron?”
- I'm not afraid. But Roof Sleepers, as the People of the Hills call people, are subject to the Cold Iron. It surrounds them from birth: after all, there is iron in every home. Every day they hold it in their hands, and their fate in one way or another depends on the Cold Iron. It has been like this since time immemorial, and there's nothing you can do about it.
- Like this? I didn’t quite understand something,” Dan admitted.
- It's a long story.
There's still plenty of time before breakfast! - Dan assured him and pulled out a huge slice of bread from his pocket. - When we left, we rummaged around in the closet just in case.
Una also took out a crust, and they both shared it with Puck.
- From "Limes"? he asked, sinking his strong teeth into the fried crust. “I recognize Aunt Vincey’s pastries.
He ate exactly like old Hobden: biting off with his side teeth, chewing slowly and not dropping a crumb. The sun flared in the panes of the old farmhouse, and the cloudless sky over the valley slowly filled with heat.
“As for Cold Iron…” Puck finally turned to the children, who were squirming with impatience, “Sleepers Under the Roof are sometimes so careless!” They will nail, for example, a horseshoe over the porch, and forget it over the back door. And the People from the Hills are right there. They will sneak into the house, find the baby in a shaky place - and ...
- I know I know! Una screamed. “They’ll steal it and leave a little werewolf instead.”
- Nonsense! Pak said sternly. “All these werewolf tales are made up by people to justify their mistreatment of children. Don't trust them! If it were my will, I would tie these negligent people to the rim of the cart and drive them with whips through three villages!
“But they don’t do that anymore,” Una said.
- What don't they do? Do not whip or leave children unattended? Some people and some fields don't change at all. But the People from the Hills never changed children. It happened that they would come in on tiptoe, whisper, twist around the cradle, by the stove - they would conjure a little or tambourine a magic rhyme, typing - sort of like a kettle sings on the stove, but when the child begins to grow up, his mind is turned completely different from that of his peers and comrades. There is little good in this. For example, I did not allow such things to be done in these places. So he told Sir Guyon.
Who is Sir Guyon? Dan asked. Puck looked at him in dumb astonishment.
- Don't you know? Sir Guyon of Bordeaux, heir of King Oberon. Once a brave and glorious knight, he got lost and disappeared on the way to Babylon. That was a long time ago. Have you heard the song "Miles to Babylon"?
“Of course,” Dan replied, embarrassed.
“Well, Sir Guyon was young when this song was just being sung. But back to the antics with babies in cradles. I said to Sir Guyon in this very clearing: "If you want to mess with Those Who Are Of Flesh And Blood - and I see that this is your innermost desire - then why don't you get a human baby honestly, openly, and not raise him near you, away from the Cold Iron? Then by bringing him back to the world, you could secure a bright future for him."
“Too much trouble,” Sir Guyon answered me. - It's almost impossible. Firstly, the baby must be taken in such a way as not to cause harm to himself, neither to his mother, nor to his father. Secondly, he must be born away from Cold Iron - in a house where Iron has never been found, and thirdly, all the days until he grows up, he must be protected from Cold Iron. This is a difficult matter, ”and Sir Guyon drove away from me in deep thought.
It so happened that in the same week, on the day of Odin (as Wednesday was called in the old days), I was at the market in Lewes, where they sold slaves - that's how pigs are now sold in the market at Robertsbridge. Only pigs have rings in their noses, and slaves have rings around their necks.
- Rings? Dan asked.
- Well, yes, iron, four fingers wide and a finger thick, like those that are thrown at a target at fairs, only with a special lock. Such collars for slaves were once made in the local forge, and then stacked in boxes of oak sawdust and sent for sale to all parts of Old England. The demand for them was great! Yes, and so, at that market, one local farmer bought himself a young slave with a baby in her arms and started a squabble with the seller because of the child: why, they say, such a burden? You see, he wanted a new worker to help him drive the cattle home.
- He's a beast! Una exclaimed, angrily thumping her bare heel on the fence.
“And here,” Puck continued, “the girl says: “This is not my baby, his mother walked with us, but she died yesterday on Thunder Hill.”
“Well, let the church take care of him,” said the farmer. “Let’s give him to the holy fathers, let them raise a glorious monk out of him, and we, with God’s help, will go home.”
It was getting on in the evening. And so he takes the baby in his arms, takes it to the church of St. Pancras and puts it at the entrance - right on the cold steps. Here I quietly approached from behind and, when he bent down, breathed into the back of this fellow's head. They say that from that day on he was cold and could not get warm even at the hot hearth. Of course! .. In short, I picked up the baby and rushed home faster than bat to the bell tower.
Early in the morning on Thursday, on the day of Thor - just the same morning as today - I came straight here on the first dew and lowered the baby on the grass in front of the Hill. People, of course, poured out to meet me.
"So did you get it?" Sir Guyon asks me, staring at the baby just like a mere mortal.
“Yes,” I say, “and now is the time to get him something to eat.”
The baby was really screaming at the top of his lungs, demanding breakfast. When the women had carried him off to be fed, Sir Guyon turned to me and asked again:
"Where is he from?"
"I have no idea. Perhaps the heavenly month and the morning star know about it. As far as I could make out by moonlight, it has no mark or birthmark. But I guarantee that he was born far from Cold Iron, because he was born on Thunder Hill. And I took him without causing any harm to anyone, for he is the son of a slave and his mother died.
So much the better, Robin, so much the better! exclaimed Sir Guyon. “The longer he won’t want to leave us.” Oh, we will give him a bright future - and through him we will influence the Sleepers Under the Roof, as we always wanted.
But then the wife of Sir Guyon came up and took him inside the hill: to see what an amazing child they got.
- And who was his wife? Dan asked.
— Lady Esclermonde. She, too, was once a woman of flesh and blood, until she followed Sir Guyon "over the ravine" - as we say. Well, you don't surprise me with babies, so I stayed outside. And now, I hear, in the Forge, over there - Puck pointed to Hobden's house - the hammer thundered. It was still too early for the workers, but I suddenly thought: today is Thursday, the day of Thor. Then a wind blew from the northeast, the ancient oaks rustled, agitated, as once, and I crept closer to see what was there.
- And what did you see?
“The blacksmith who forged Cold Iron. He stood with his back to me. When he had finished, he weighed the finished item in his palm, swung it, and hurled it far across the valley. I saw how it flashed in the sun, but did not have time to notice where it fell. Not important! I knew that sooner or later they would find her.
– How did you know? Dan was surprised.
“I recognized the blacksmith,” Puck said, lowering his voice.
Was it Wieland? See the story "The Sword of Wieland". ( Note. R. Kipling.) Una asked.
- That's the thing, it's not. Wieland and I would have found something to talk about. But it wasn't him, no…” Puck's finger traced a strange sign in the air, like a crescent moon. Hiding in the grass, I watched the blades of grass sway before my nose, until the wind died down and the blacksmith disappeared, taking his hammer.
So it was Thor? Una whispered.
– Who else? It was Thor's day. Puck drew the same sign in the air again. “I did not tell Sir Guyon and his mistress anything. If you have called trouble, you should not share it with a neighbor. Besides, I could be wrong. Maybe he took up the hammer out of boredom, though it doesn't sound like him. Maybe he just threw away an unnecessary piece of iron. How to know! In general, I kept quiet, rejoicing with everyone at our baby. He was a wonderful child, and the People from the Hills loved him so much! They wouldn't believe me anyway.
The baby bonded with me right away. As soon as he learned to walk, we went all over this Hill with him. It was good for him to hobble along the thick grass and fall gently. He always knew when it was daytime upstairs, and immediately began to fuss and knock under the Hill, like a hardened rabbit in a hole, repeating: “Back off! whoops!" until someone who knew the spell let it out. And then he started looking for me in all the nooks and crannies, all that was heard was: “Robin! Where are you?"
- Here's a sweetie! Una laughed. How I would love to see him!
- The boy was at least where! And when the time came for him to learn magic - spells and so on - I remember how he sat in the evenings on a hillside, repeating the necessary rhyme word by word and sometimes trying its power on some passerby. And when the birds descended beside him or the tree bowed its branches before him, he used to cry: “Robin! Look - it's out!" - and again, topsy-turvy, murmured the words of the spell, and I did not have the courage to explain to him that it was not the spell that worked, but only the love for him and the birds, and the trees, and all the inhabitants of the Hill. When he became more confident in his speech and learned to cast spells without hesitation, as we do, he became more and more drawn to the world. He was especially interested in people, because he himself was made of flesh and blood.
Seeing that he could easily sneak between people living under the roof, near the Cold Iron, I began to take him with me on night trips so that he could study people better, but at the same time I made sure that he did not inadvertently touch anything iron. It was not as difficult as it seems, because in the houses, besides the Cold Iron, there are many other things that are attractive to the boy. The guy was badass! I will not forget how I took him with me to Lipki - for the first time he happened to be under the roof of the house. Warm rain was falling outside. The smell of rustic candles and smoked hams hanging under the rafters - and they were stuffing feather beds that evening - made his head dim. Before I could stop him - we were hiding in the bakery - when he blazed with such a playful fire, with flashes and buzzing, that people, squealing, jumped out into the garden, and one girl knocked over the hive in the dark, and the bees - he didn’t think at all, what are they capable of - they bit the poor fellow so that he returned home with his face swollen like a potato.
Sir Guyon and Lady Esclermonde were horrified. Oh, how they scolded poor Robin - they say, I can no longer trust the child and all that. Only the Boy paid no more attention to these words than to the bee stings. Our forays continued. Every night, as soon as it got dark, I would whistle it in the ferns, and we would romp between the Sleepers Under the Roof until dawn. He asked me a lot of questions, and I answered the best I could. Until we got into trouble again! - Pak fidgeted a little on the gate, which caused the crossbar to sway and creak.
In Brightling we came across a scoundrel who was beating his wife in the yard. I was just about to nose-dive him over the deck when my Boy jumped off the hedge and ran to the defence. The wife, of course, immediately took the side of her husband, and while he was beating the Boy, she used her nails. I had to do a fire dance in the cabbage patch, blazing like a Brightling beacon, to get them scared and running into the house. The Boy's green and gold suit was torn to shreds, he got at least twenty bruises from a stick, and in addition, his whole face was scratched into blood. In general, he looked like a reveler from Robertsbridge on a Monday morning.
“Robin,” he told me as I tried to brush the dirt off him with a tuft of grass, “I don’t understand Roof Sleepers. I wanted to protect this woman, and here's what I got for it, Robin!"
“What else could you expect? I objected. “There was just a chance to use one of your spells instead of throwing yourself at a person three times your weight.”
“I didn’t think,” he confessed. “But once I hit him hard on the head—better than any spell.” Saw?"
“Your nose drops. Don’t wipe the blood with your sleeve, for God’s sake, take the plantain.” I well imagined what Lady Esclermonde would say.
But he didn't care. He was as happy as a gypsy who stole a horse. The chest of his golden jacket, stained with blood and adhering to blades of grass, looked like an ancient altar after a sacrifice.
Of course, the Hill Folk blamed me for everything. The boy, in their opinion, could not be guilty of anything.
“You yourself wanted him to live among people and influence them when the time comes,” I justified myself. “And so, when he makes his first attempts, you immediately begin to scold me. What am I doing here? It is his own nature that pushes him towards people."
“We do not want his first steps to be of this kind,” said Lady Esclermonde. “We were preparing a bright future for him – not these night tricks, jumping over the fence and other gypsy things.”
“For sixteen years I kept it from the Cold Iron,” I replied. “You know as well as I do that the first time he touches the Cold Iron, he will find his destiny forever, whatever future you have for him. My worries are worth something."
Sir Guyon, being a man, was ready to admit that I was right, but Lady Esclermonde, with truly maternal fervour, managed to convince him.
“We are very grateful to you,” said Sir Guyon, “but lately it seems to us that you have been walking with him too much on and around the Hill.”
“What is said is said,” I replied. “Still, I hope you change your mind.”
I am not accustomed to answering to anyone on my own Hill and would never have put up with it if not for the love of our Boy.
"It's out of the question! exclaimed Lady Esclermonde. As long as he's here with me, he's safe. And you will bring him to trouble!”
“Ah, that's how! I was outraged. - So listen! I swear by Ash, Oak, and Thorn, and Thor's hammer to boot (here Puck drew a mysterious double arc in the air again) that until the Boy finds his destiny, whatever it may be, you can not count on me.
He said - and rushed away from them faster than smoke flies away from a flaming candle wick. No matter how much they called me, it was all in vain. Although I did not give them the word to completely forget about the Boy - and I looked after him carefully, very carefully!
When he was convinced that I was gone (not of my own free will!), he had to listen more to what the guardians were saying. Their kisses and tears eventually broke through him, convinced him that he had been unfair and ungrateful before. And there began new holidays, games and all sorts of magic - just to divert his thoughts from the Sleepers Under the Roof. My poor friend! How often he called me, and I could neither answer nor even give a sign that I was near!
Couldn't answer at all? Una was shocked. “The boy must have been very lonely…
“Of course I couldn’t,” Dan confirmed, deep in thought about something. "Didn't you swear it by the hammer of Thor himself?"
- Thor's hammer! - Puck answered loudly and drawlingly, and immediately continued in an ordinary voice: - Of course, not seeing me, the Boy felt very lonely. He began to study the sciences and wisdom (he had good teachers), but I saw how often he looked up from his books to peer into the world of Sleepers Under the Roof. He learned to compose songs (and here he had good teachers), but he sang these songs with his back to the Hill, facing the people. I already know. I sat and mourned with him - very close, at the distance of a rabbit's jump. Then it was time for him to study High, Middle and Low magic. He had promised Lady Esclermonde that he would not approach the Sleepers Under the Roof, so he had to amuse himself with shadows and pictures.
- What pictures? Dan asked.
“It’s a very light magic—more prank than magic. I'll show you somehow. The main thing is that it is completely harmless - unless it scares some bastards returning from the tavern. But I felt that this was not the end of the matter, and I followed it relentlessly. He was a wonderful guy - you won't find another like him! I remember how he walked with Sir Guyon and Lady Esclermonde, who had to go around the furrow where the Cold Iron left a mark, then the heap of slag with the shovel or shovel forgotten in it, and he so wanted to go straight to the Living Under the Roof - he was there like pulled like a magnet ... Nice guy! A brilliant future was prepared for him, but they did not dare to let him go alone into the world. More than once I heard them warn him of the dangers, but the trouble is that they themselves did not want to listen to the warnings. And what had to happen happened.
One sultry night I saw the Boy descend from the Hill, shrouded in some unsettling glow. Lightning flashed in the sky, and shadows trembled as they ran across the valley. The nearby copses and bushes resounded with the barking of greyhounds, and the clearings in the woods filled with knights riding through the milky mists—all of this, of course, was created by his own magic. And over the valley, ghostly castles clung and piled up in the moonlight, and the girls waved their hands from the windows, but the castles suddenly turned into roaring waterfalls, and the whole picture was eclipsed by the darkness of his longing young heart. Of course, these childhood fantasies did not bother me - Merlin's magic would not have frightened me either. But I grieved along with my Boy - I followed him through tornadoes and flashes of ghostly lights and languished in his longing ... He rushed back and forth, like a bull in an unfamiliar meadow, now completely alone, now surrounded ghost dogs, otherwise, at the head of a detachment of knights, he rushed on a winged horse to help the captive ghostly maidens! I did not think that he could do such magic, but that is what happens to boys when they grow up unnoticed.
At the hour when the owl returns for the second time with prey to the nest, I saw Sir Guyon and his mistress descending on horseback from Enchanted Hill. They were pleased with the Boy's progress - the whole valley sparkled from his witchcraft - and discussed what a bright future awaits him when they finally let him live with people. Sir Guyon represented him as a great king, and his wife as a wonderful sage, famous for his knowledge and kindness.
And suddenly we saw how the flashes of his anxiety, running through the clouds, suddenly faded, as if resting against some kind of barrier, and the barking of his ghostly dogs suddenly stopped.
"This Sorcery fights other Sorceries," exclaimed Lady Esclermonde, pulling on the reins. “Who is there to oppose him?”
I kept silent, for I thought that it was not my business to announce the comings and goings of Asa Tor.
“But how did you know? Una asked.
- A wind blew from the northwest, piercing and chilly, and, like last time, the branches of the oak trembled. The phantom fire shot up, in a single curved petal of flame, and vanished without a trace, as if a candle had been blown out. Hail, as if from a bucket, fell from the sky. We heard the Boy plodding along the Long Slope where I first met you.
"Here, here!" cried Lady Esclermonde, stretching out her arms into the darkness.
He slowly walked up - and suddenly stumbled over something there, on the path. Of course, he was just an ordinary mortal.
"What it is?" he wondered.
"Wait, don't touch, baby! Watch out for Cold Iron! exclaimed Sir Guyon, and both of them galloped headlong down, shouting as they went.
I kept up with them, and yet we were late. The boy must have touched the Cold Iron, because the magical horses suddenly stopped abruptly and reared up with a snort.
And then I judged that the time had come to appear before them in my own guise.
“Whatever it was, he picked it up. Our business now is to find out what it is, for in this thing lies its fate.
"Here, Robin! the boy called, barely hearing my voice. “I don’t understand what it is that I found.”
“Look better,” I replied. “Maybe it’s hard and cold, with precious stones on top?” Then it is the royal scepter."
“It doesn't look like it at all,” he said, hunched over and feeling the iron object. I could hear something clang in the darkness.
“Maybe it has a handle and two sharp edges? I asked. "Then it's a knight's sword."
“Nothing like that,” he replied. “It’s not a knife or a horseshoe, it’s not a plow or a hook, and I haven’t seen anything like it in people.” He squatted down, fiddling with his find.
“Whatever it is, you can guess who lost it, Robin,” Sir Guyon told me. Otherwise you wouldn't be asking these questions. Tell us if you know."
"Can we thwart the will of the Blacksmith who forged this thing and left it where it was?" I whispered, and quietly told Sir Guyon what I had witnessed at the Forge on the day of Thor, the same day that I brought the baby to the Enchanted Hill.
“Alas, farewell, dreams! said Sir Guyon. “It's not a scepter, it's not a sword, it's not a plow. But perhaps this is a wise book in a heavy binding with iron clasps? Maybe she has a bright future for our Boy?
But we knew that we were only consoling ourselves. And Lady Esclermonde felt this best of all with her feminine heart.
"Tour aye! In the name of Thor! the Boy exclaimed. “It’s round, without ends—it’s Cold Iron, four fingers wide and a finger thick, and something is written on it.”
“Read it if you can make it out,” I called out. By that time the clouds had dispersed and the owl flew out of the forest again to hunt its prey.
The response was not slow. These were runes written on iron, and they sounded like this:
Fate will be fulfilled
Known to few
When the child meets
Cold Iron.
He now stood erect in the moonlight, our Boy, and around his neck was the heavy iron collar of a slave.
"That's how it is!" I whispered. However, he has not clicked the lock yet.
“What fate does this mean? asked Sir Guyon. “You deal with people and walk under Cold Iron. Explain to us, teach us how to be."
“I can interpret, but not teach,” I answered. “The meaning of this Ring is that the one who wears it from now on and forever must live among the Sleepers Under the Roof, obey them and do as they are ordered. He will never become a master even over himself, not to mention other people. He will give twice as much as he receives, and receive half as much as he gives, until his last breath; and when before death he lays down his burden, it will turn out that all his labors are in vain.
“O evil, hard-hearted Thor! exclaimed Lady Esclermonde. “But look! take a look! The clasp is not yet fastened! He can still take off the ring. He can still come back to us. Do you hear, my boy? She approached him as close as she dared, but it was impossible for her to touch the Cold Iron. The boy could still take off his collar. He raised his hands to his throat, as if feeling for the ring, and then the lock clicked and snapped into place.
“So it happened,” he smiled guiltily.
“It couldn’t have happened otherwise,” I said. “But the morning is near, and if you want to say goodbye, say goodbye without delay, for after sunrise Cold Iron will be its master.”
They sat side by side - all three of them - and so, bursting into tears, said goodbye to each other until sunrise. He was a nice boy - you won't find another like him.
When morning came, Cold Iron became the master of his fate, and he went to work for the Roof Sleepers. Soon he met a girl after his own heart, they got married and gave birth, as they say, to a bunch of children. Maybe this summer you will meet one of their offspring.”
"God! Una sighed. “And what did poor Lady Esclermonde do?”
“What can be done if Astor himself put Cold Iron on the path of a young man? He and Sir Guyon consoled themselves with the thought that they had taught their Boy a lot and that he would still be able to influence the Sleepers Under the Roof. He really was a nice boy! But isn't it time for breakfast? Perhaps I'll walk with you for a bit."
They reached a dry, sun-warmed lawn overgrown with ferns, when Dan suddenly pushed Una in the side, and she, stopping, quickly pulled one shoe over her foot.
- Hey Pak! she said defiantly. “There is no Oak, no Ash, no Tern around here, and in addition,” she stood on one leg, “look! I stand on Cold Iron. What will you do if we don't leave here? - Dan also got into one shoe, grabbing his sister's hand to stand on one leg more firmly.
- I'm sorry, what? Here it is, human impudence! Puck walked around them, looking at the guys with obvious pleasure. “Do you really think that I can’t do without a handful of dry leaves?” This is what it means to get rid of Fear and Doubt! Well, now I'll show you!
…………………………………………………………………
A minute later they flew like mad into Hobden's house, shouting that they had come across a nest of wild wasps in the ferns, and demanding that the watchman go with them and smoke out these dangerous wasps.
Hobden, who was just eating a cold roast pheasant (his invariably modest breakfast), only waved his hand:
- Nonsense! It's not time for wasp nests yet. And I will not dig on Magic Hill for any money. Eh, you put your foot up, Miss Una! Sit down and put on the second shoe. You are already big, it is not good for you to roam barefoot on an empty stomach. Eat my chicken.
Silver for maids, gold for ladies,
Copper and bronze - for the work of good craftsmen.
“That's right,” said the Baron, putting on his armor, “
But cold iron will overcome all."
And he rose up with an army against the King:
Besieged a high castle, ordered to surrender it.
But the gunner on the tower said: “Well, no!
Deadly iron - that's our answer to you.
Cannonballs flew from impregnable walls,
Many were killed here, many were taken prisoner.
The Baron himself is in prison, without his people:
So the cold iron overcame them.
“Against you,” said the King, “I hold no malice:
I will return your sword to you and set you free.”
"Oh, don't laugh at me! replied the baron. -
I am iron, not you, now defeated.
For a fool and a coward - tears and pleas,
And for the recalcitrant - strong pillars.
You have deprived me of everything - so take life!
Only cold iron has power over people.”
“Forget,” said the King, “the present mutiny.
Here is wine and bread for you: drink with me and eat.
Drink in the name of the Virgin and understand forever
How iron became a force among men.
And he broke bread with his hand,
He himself blessed the drink and the food.
“Do you see the nail ulcers on my hands?
This is how it turned out that iron is the strongest in the world.
Suffering suffering, steadfastness to the sages,
And a balm for wounds - all tormented hearts.
I have forgiven your guilt, atoned for your sin:
After all, cold iron is indeed the strongest of all.
The strong - the crown, the daring - the throne,
Power is given to those who are born to rule.
The Baron fell to his knees and exclaimed: “Oh yes!
But cold iron will always prevail.
Iron hammered into the cross will always prevail.
"...And if you wanted to turn me into someone, like an otter, would you be able to?
- No, as long as you have sandals hanging on your shoulder - no.
- I'll take them off. Yuna threw her sandals on the ground. Dan immediately followed suit. - And now?
You seem to trust me less now than before. Anyone who truly believes in magic will not ask for a miracle.
A smile slowly crept across Pak's face.
But what about sandals? Yuna asked as she sat on the gate.
“Even though they have Cold Iron in them,” Puck said, perching there. - I mean the nails in the soles. It changes things."
Rudyard Kipling "Tales of Puck"
Dictionary of Symbols, Jack Tresidder, ed. "Grand" Moscow 2001.
Nail
Protection symbol. For example, according to Chinese tradition, many extra nails are often driven into a building to protect it from evil spirits; in ancient Rome in the temple of Jupiter there was an annual ceremony of hammering a nail.
Attaching or connecting, the function of the nails, which is believed to have directly influenced their significance in some African magical rites, is to keep the summoned spirits near until they have completed the tasks for which the shaman summons them. In works of art, three nails symbolize the crucifixion of Christ. Nails can also be attributes of personalities associated with Christ, for example, St. Helena, the mother of Emperor Constantine the Great, about whom they said that she owns the very cross and nails that were used during the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, which, however, was disputed by other "owners" of these relics.
"Encyclopedia of signs and superstitions" Christina Hole, Moscow "Kron-press"
Nails
Like almost everything made of iron, nails used to be used in the most different types divination - both protective and healing. It is said that the Romans hammered them into the walls of their houses as an antidote to the plague.
Pliny claims that epileptics can be cured by driving a nail into the ground on which he lay in a fit. He also reports that a nail pulled out of the tomb and placed on the threshold of the bedroom protects the sleeper from nightmares, visions and ghosts. In this latter, of course, the power of the dead is involved, but it is also undoubted that it was strengthened precisely with the help of iron.
In the UK, it is considered lucky to find a nail on the road, especially a rusty one. It must be picked up immediately and taken home. If the nails are carried in a pocket or hidden in the house, they protect against witchcraft and the evil eye. At one time, it was believed that if someone was suspected of witchcraft, this suspicion could be tested by quietly driving a tenpenny nail into his (or her) trail. If this is really a sorcerer, some force will make him return and pull out the nail, and if he is innocent, then he will go his own way, unaware of the experiment carried out on him.
In Suffolk, the cure for malaria was to go out at midnight to a crossroads, turn around three times, and drive a tenpenny nail into the ground up to the head. This had to be done while the clock was striking, and it was necessary to return home backwards until the last note died down. If everything is done correctly, then the disease will remain there, at the crossroads, and it will be picked up by the first person who stepped on the nail.
Aubrey in "Miscellanies" says that a toothache can be overcome by bleeding the gum with a new nail, which must then be hammered into oak. “It cured the son of William Neal,” he writes, “a most courageous gentleman, when he almost went mad with pain and was about to shoot himself.” On Islay in the last century, nails were driven into a large boulder called "Xach Deed" to prevent toothache in the future. Another method, practiced there, is to drive a nail into the top lintel of the kitchen door. As long as it remains there, the person for whom it was hammered in will not suffer from a toothache. In Berner at about the same time, the first nail that had just been driven into the coffin was pulled out to rub the aching tooth with it - this was considered the surest remedy.
In Cheshire, when several men wanted to bind themselves and each other with an oath to do something or not to do something, they all went together into the forest at some distance from the house and there they drove a nail into a tree, taking an oath that they would keep the promise, as long as the nail stays in place. It was impossible to pull him out without universal consent, but if this happened, everyone was released from the oath. Although this custom no longer exists, the Cheshire vernacular retains the expression "to pull a nail", which means to break an oath or promise.
Nails
He who is ill with a fever, let him go alone at midnight to a crossroads, and when the clock begins to strike midnight, turn around three times in one place and drive a nail into the ground for tenpence. Then he must walk backwards from this place before the clock strikes twelve. The fever will leave him. (Suffolk).
Here we are dealing with "nailing evil" - one of the most widespread superstitions all over the world. There is hardly a country, civilized or uncivilized, where such rites are not practiced in one form or another.
Evil (in this case, disease) could be nailed to the ground, to a tree, to a door, and to any other place where a nail could be driven in and thus save the patient from the misfortune, who then left this place.
In Blida (Algeria), women drive nails into a sacred tree to get rid of their illnesses. The Persians scratched the gum under the diseased tooth until it bled and drove a bloody nail into the tree - along with a toothache. If someone inadvertently pulled out a nail, he took away his toothache.
The same was done by the inhabitants of Port Charlotte, Brunswick, North Africa, Mogador, Tunisia and Egypt. In Cairo, in recent times, it was customary to drive nails into the wooden doors of the South Gate to get rid of a headache.
Here is another case where similar customs exist among peoples between whom there has never been any connection.
If a pig or swine is commemorated in the sea, the fisherman must touch the nails of his boat and say "cauld airn", otherwise he will not escape misfortune.
"Encyclopedia of symbols, signs, emblems" ed. "Lokid" 1999, "Myth" 1999
Nail
The nail is the affirmation of the symbol of the cosmic axis on a small segment that plays this vertical.
In the Christian tradition, these are the nails of the cross. The emblems of Saints Sebastian, Ursula, Christina, Edmund represent torment and suffering.
Fresco - Nails of the Holy Cross
Diderot, the French encyclopedist, compared deep thoughts to iron nails that are driven into the mind so that nothing can pull them out later.
At the archetypal level, the nail is usually not a symbol of guilt. If you accidentally stepped on a nail, then this is a sign of your inattention, which is confirmed by the Russian proverb "Innocent is the nail that climbs into the wall - they beat it with a butt."
On a psychoanalytic level, the nail undoubtedly carries a phallic connotation. In Erich Maria Remarque's famous novel The Black Obelisk, a certain Frau Pitker pulls out a nail with her anal sphincter.
they say that at Stalin's dacha there was a huge nail driven into a beam. In mythical terms, he performed a magical-symbolic function, helping the power of the dictator. One of the proletarian poets used the metaphor of iron men who can be used to make nails, which is undoubtedly an element of social magic.
Nails participate in the sign of limbs. To drive a nail into a coffin is to end someone or a situation. Athletes-footballers have the expression "hang up the boots on a nail", which means the end sports career. VK.
"Cold Iron subjugates people. From birth, they are surrounded by iron and cannot live without it. It is in their every home and is able to elevate or destroy any of them. Such is the fate of all mortals, as the people of the Hills are called, and you cannot change it.
...People treat iron lightly. They hang a horseshoe on the door and forget to turn it back to front. Then, maybe a day later, maybe a year later, the Hill Dwellers slip into the house, find a nursing baby sleeping in a cradle, and..."
"Encyclopedia of superstitions" "Lokid" - "Myth" Moscow 1995
HORSESHOE
A horseshoe nailed over the door of a house brings good luck to everyone who lives in it. (everywhere).
If the horseshoe above the door is taken from under the hind leg of a gray mare, luck will be greatest.
A horseshoe nailed to the mast of a fishing boat protects it from storms. (Superstition of Scottish fishermen).
If you find a horseshoe on the road, pick it up, spit on it and throw it over your left shoulder, making a wish. Your wish must be fulfilled. (North).
Finding a horseshoe on the road is fortunate. (everywhere).
If a rider puts a coin on one of the stones of Wayland's Forge (Berkshire) and then retires, Wayland will miraculously shoe his horse. (Wayland is Völund, the god of the ancient Scandinavians. As for Wayland's Forge, this is a group of ancient stones in the Berkshire area of Whitehorse).
Belief in the happy qualities of a horseshoe is one of the most common modern superstitions. Even those who are outraged when they are called superstitious, having found a horseshoe, still try to nail it over the door.
But superstition requires (we found this out on the example of many nailed horseshoes) that it hangs in a strictly defined way, namely, with the ends up.
The source of this belief is that the devil (from whom the horseshoe is supposed to protect) always walks in circles and, reaching each end of the horseshoe, is forced to turn around and go back.
In Devonshire and Cornwall, lands inhabited by fairies and pixies, the horseshoe superstition is still popular today.
To ward off the devil, a horseshoe was buried in the portal of Steiningfield Church in Suffolk. Obviously, the community did not trust the holy water, which is usually used for these needs.
Many great people also had a weakness for horseshoes. For example, on the Victoria, Admiral Nelson's flagship, a horseshoe was nailed to the mast.
Mr. Carey Hazlitt recalls how one day he was driving with his famous friend in London in a cab when the horse lost its shoe. His friend immediately jumped out of the cab and grabbed a horseshoe to nail it over the door of his house.
When Dr. James, then a poor chemist, invented the antipyretic, he was introduced to Newbury, to whom he could sell his remedy.
On the way to the Newbury house, the chemist saw a horseshoe on the road and hid it in his bag. And all the success that was subsequently achieved with the sale of the antipyretic, Dr. James attributed to the fact that he nailed the found horseshoe under the roof of his carriage.
The cult of the horseshoe may also have arisen from the legend of St. Dunstan and the devil. The saint was a famous blacksmith, and (according to legend) one day the devil himself appeared to him and asked him to shoe his hoof. The saint agreed and, chaining the visitor to the wall, grabbed him so tightly that the devil asked for mercy. Before freeing him, the saint made him swear that he would never enter where a horseshoe would be visible.
However, most likely, the idea that a horseshoe can protect against evil forces was brought to our islands by the Roman conquerors. After all, the Romans were sure that evil could be nailed to something, and driving nails into the doors and walls of buildings was a common means of curing diseases and warding off damage.
How strongly people believed in the sipu of a horseshoe is evidenced by one of the good wishes widespread at the beginning of the last century. "May your threshold never lose its horseshoe!"
In addition to Christians, Jews, Turks, heretics and atheists all over the world believe in the happy properties of a horseshoe.
Belief in a horseshoe is also widespread in Russia: "To find old iron, especially a horseshoe, brings happiness. A found horseshoe, nailed to the threshold of a trading establishment, brings good luck in trade."
In Russian villages, horseshoes were usually nailed either in front of the threshold or above the door, it's true; unlike the English tradition, it was customary to place the horseshoe with the ends down.
HORSESHOE
For centuries, the horseshoe has been considered an amulet that brings happiness and protection in all countries where horses are forged. This is partly because it is made of iron and forged by a blacksmith, and partly because its shape resembles, and therefore symbolizes, a young month.
Finding a horseshoe on the road is very good omen, and especially if it flew off the back leg of a gray mare closest to the passerby. Needless to say, it is impossible to leave such a rare and happy find without attention in any case. In some regions, it is said that, as with a nail or coal, the correct sequence of actions upon finding is this: pick up the object, spit on it, make a wish, throw it over your left shoulder and go on your way without looking back. However, a more common practice is to take a horseshoe with you and nail it over the front door or on the threshold.
The belief that the presence of a horseshoe in these places averts evil forces and brings happiness is very old and by no means obsolete to this day, if one can take as evidence of this the many real or toy horseshoes hanging in town and country houses around the world. Aubrey remarks in "Remaines" that "it must be a horseshoe found on the high road by chance; it is used as a defense against evil machinations or from the power of witches; and this is the old way, proceeding from the astrological principle that Mars is the enemy of Saturn, under which are the witches; and nowhere is it so widely used (and still is) as in the west of London, and especially in new buildings. Farmers nailed one, three or seven horseshoes over stalls and stables to protect their animals from witchcraft and, in the case of horses, from being tormented by fairies and demons at night. Sailors also nailed horseshoes to masts to ward off storms and shipwrecks. It is said that Admiral Nelson also had a horseshoe hanging from the mainmast of the Victoria.
Opinions on how to properly hang a horseshoe vary somewhat. Some people think that it should be hung upside down. Others, and perhaps most of them, believe that in this case luck will pour out, and in order to keep it inside, you need to hang the horseshoe with the horns up. Both theories have their passionate adherents, but the second seems to be more popular, at least in England. F. T. Elworthy, in Horns of Honor, tells of a Somerset farmer who, believing that his diseased cattle had been jinxed, hung a horseshoe upside down. The animals did not get well, and the neighbor told him that it was because the horseshoe was hanging "upside down". If the horseshoe does not hang upside down, nothing good can be expected. The farmer took his friend's advice, hung the horseshoe, and, according to Elworthy's information, no longer had problems with sick cattle.
R. M. Hinley (97) notes two interesting Lincolnshire ways of divination using horseshoes. The first was aimed at preventing delirium tremens, and consisted of nailing three horseshoes at the head of the bed. The one who did this could drink as much as he liked, without fear that he would start talking or see devils.
Another way is more sophisticated and clearly of pagan origin. Hinley relates that in 1858 or 1859 a fever broke out where he lived, and he once brought quinine to a sick child. The patient's grandmother rejected the gift, saying that she had something better than "that nasty bitterness." She led Mr. Hinley into the room where the sick man lay, and showed him three horseshoes nailed to the foot of the bed with a hammer across them. This, she said, would drive away the fever attacks. She attached them in accordance with the appropriate ritual: she nailed each horseshoe with a hammer, holding it in her left hand and saying:
Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit, Beat the devil on the bough. My holy hook strikes three times, Three times the hammer strikes from a swoop, Once for God, and once for Water, and once for Lok.
In this spell, along with the Holy Trinity, the Scandinavian deities Wotan (Odin) and Loki are invoked, and the "Holy Hook" represents Thor's hammer. But at the same time, it is extremely unlikely that the grandmother of a sick child would be aware of all this. The only thing she knew was that this verse was a powerful spell, and that, together with horseshoes and a hammer, it would provide a faster and more complete recovery than any chemical substance.
Encyclopedic Dictionary "Slavonic World I-XVI centuries" V. D. Gladky, Moscow Tsentropoligraf 2001
HORSESHOE - used in ancient times to protect the hooves of working animals, stockings or shoes woven from reeds, bast, straw, rope, later - iron plates with hooks; these devices were tied to the lower leg of the animal with straps or ropes. Modern nailed caps were invented by the Romans (judging by the numerous finds in late Roman military camps) no later than the 3rd century BC. Since then, P. almost did not change.
Items are summer and winter. In winter and when traveling on slippery road for greater stability of animals on bottom surface P. spikes (protrusions) are made. P. also differ for riding, draft horses, etc. Round hooves, half-horseshoes, etc. are used for vicious and diseased hooves.
Dictionary of Symbols, Jack Tresidder, ed. "Grand" Moscow 2001.
HORSESHOE
An ancient talisman against the evil eye, but only if the curvature of the horseshoe is directed upwards - this confirms the theory that the supposed magic of the horseshoe is based on the protective symbolism of the month (iron forms a crescent shape).
V. I. Dal " Dictionary living Great Russian language"
KNOCK (hoe), shoe a horse, forge, sew a horseshoe under the hooves with nails. Bite, but don't bite. The horse's legs are tucked in, zap. savvy. Shoe a goat: it's easier for horses! You can’t forge your tongue (so as not to stumble). Shoe boots, knock out iron brackets, horseshoes. Shoe the sled, knock out the undercuts. || — whom, to deceive, to inflate. || Shod in the yard, impersonal, froze, froze. - They're suffering. or return according to the meaning of speech. Horseshoeing, horseshoeing, horseshoeing, horseshoeing, action. by vb. || Horseshoe, - vochka, diminish. horseshoe, an iron bracket forged on a horse's hoof, usually with spikes at the back, at the ends, and with one in front, with a groove longitudinal from below and eight holes in it, for nails. Vologda residents ate a foal with horseshoes instead of a calf. || Horseshoe, Nov. ice-hole, on Ilmen, where fishermen launch relays, poles, runs. A horseshoe nail or ukhnal (Hufnagel) looks like a crutch. A horseshoe camp in which a horse is pulled up on girths for forging. Horseshoe, plant. Hippocrepis, translated. Horseshoe-shaped, horseshoe, similar in shape to a horseshoe. Horseshoe, horseshoe, horseshoe, shoeing someone or something; || horseshoe, master or seller of horseshoes.
Encyclopedia of Brockhaus and Efron
Horseshoe
- In ancient times, shoeing did not exist in the present sense of the word; there was only shodding the horse's feet in a special kind of straw sandals, just as it is still done in Japan. Shoeing was first practiced by the Gauls, and shoes were made of iron or bronze. In the VI century. according to R. Chr. shoeing was occasionally carried out by the Germans, Slavs and Wends. In the ninth century there is the first mention ("Tactica", V, 4, Leo VI) of the existence of shoeing among the Greeks, probably brought to Constantinople by the Germans. Forging horses entered into general use in Europe only in the 13th century. according to R.H.
"The crown is for the hero, the power is for the one who dared,
Throne and power - for the strong, who managed to keep them"
"No, the baron knelt in his castle. -
Cold iron is the ruler of all time.
Iron from Golgotha - the ruler of all time!"
Rudyard Kipling "Tales of Puck"
(...umm...about the iron from Golgotha - I don't agree, of course, since Pak walked around the fields and hills of good old England long before the Crucifixion, and iron was already in price then. And over time, I suppose , and Golgotha will be forgotten, like the temples of Jupiter or Horus, but the iron will still remain even longer ... Unless the Chinese fill up the whole world with plastic and silicone ..))) - D.W.)
(a fanatic from the Philippines who nailed himself to a cross... No, at least it didn't hurt to worship Jupiter..))) - D.W.)
"Encyclopedia of signs and superstitions" Christina Hole, Moscow "Kron-press"
PINS
Pins used to be used for divination of various kinds, with good and evil purposes, and divination. Being sharp on the one hand, and made of metal on the other, they could be both dangerous and protective, depending on the circumstances and methods of use. A pin driven into the door prevented witches and sorcerers from entering the house, but they could also use the same pins for their witchcraft, especially in the magic of images. People loved to throw bent and twisted pins into healing and wish-fulfilling wells and springs, and, it seems, they still do, because at their bottom you can often see completely new, rust-free pins.
It is generally considered good luck to find a pin on the ground, but only if it is picked up immediately. In some regions, this is only good if the point is directed away from you. If it is directed towards you, you must leave the pin in place, for raising it means "taking grief for yourself." In Sussex, an unmarried woman must not pick up a bent, cloudy or rusty pin from the ground, otherwise she will die unmarried.
The presence of a sharp tip makes the pin not a good gift between friends, unless something will be given in return. In some places it's not good to even borrow them. However, it is quite safe if the giver or loaner does not pass the pin from hand to hand, but invites you to “help yourself”. Many sailors don't like having them on board because they can cause hull leaks or break fishing nets.
The dressmaker, as a rule, avoids using black pins during the fitting. If at the same time she accidentally pins a new dress to the client's old clothes, then the number of pins used in this case will indicate the number of years before her wedding.
When it was the duty of the bridesmaids to undress her before the first wedding night, the girl who took out the first pin was considered lucky - she will be the first of the whole company to marry. She didn't have to keep the pin, though—they all had to be thrown away. Misson de Walbourg, in his Memoirs & Observations of M. Misson in his Travels over England, 1719, trans. J. Ozell, says, that after the wedding feast “the bridesmaids lead the bride into the bedroom, where they undress her and lay her on the bed. They must unfasten and discard all pins. Woe to the bride, if at least one remains near her; nothing will go well for her. Woe to the girlfriend if she leaves even one pin for herself, for then she will not marry until Trinity itself.
A Victorian pin with a horseshoe is, of course, not iron, but I could not resist ..))) - D.W.
In some areas of the UK, it is believed that if any unmarried, not necessarily bridesmaid, can remove a pin for herself from the bride's dress during her return from church, she will be married within a year; but again, she should not keep it, because then either the sign will not work, or the newly married couple will not know prosperity.
Likewise, pins with which a shroud, or anything else, has been pierced on a dead person should no longer be used by the living. After they have been taken out of their burial clothes, they should be carefully placed in a coffin and buried with the deceased.
Victorian hat pins.
One of the magical ways to bring back an unfaithful or departed lover is to throw twelve new pins into the fire at midnight and say:
I don't want to burn pins
And the heart ... I will turn.
Don't eat, don't sleep, don't drink,
Until he comes back.
Another way is to stick two pins into a burning candle so that they pierce the wick, and cast the same spell. Eddy says that in the north of the middle English counties it was believed that a woman could torment her husband or lover simply by wearing nine pins in the folds of her dress.
Pins were once very widely used to ward off witches and break spells. Charlotte Latham relates how, during the renovation of a house in Palborough in the second half of the nineteenth century, a bottle containing more than two hundred pins was found under the hearth slab in one of the rooms. The workers said they often found such bottles in old houses and that they were meant to ward off witches and sorcerers.
In the same account of Sussex beliefs, Mrs. Paxton of Westdeen, visiting a country house, found a flask full of pins on the hearth. She was told not to touch it, because the flask is very hot, and also because then divination will not work. The hostess further explained that her daughter had epilepsy. Since the doctors could not do anything, the woman went to the sorceress, and she determined that the attacks were caused by witchcraft, and advised her to fill the flask with pins and put them by the fire so that they were red-hot. Then they will pierce the heart of the witch who cast the spell and force her to remove it. She did as she was told, and now she expects her daughter to get better soon.
Turkish pins.
"Encyclopedia of superstitions" "Lokid" - "Myth" Moscow 1995
PIN
If you see a pin, pick it up and you will be lucky all year long.
Spot a pin and leave it lying, and luck will turn its back on you for the whole day.
If the bridesmaid removes the pins from her wedding dress, she gains good luck.
If, going to the altar, the bride loses a pin, she will not see good luck.
Never borrow a pin. (North).
Climbing aboard the ship, do not take pins with you. (Yorkshire).
Of all these superstitions, only one seems to have survived to this day: the taboo against borrowing pins. It is still carefully observed in the North, where, allowing you to take a pin, you will be told: "Take it, but I did not give it to you." What is the failure that they avoid, we could not find out.
Pin with a pendant in the form of a lock - a double amulet.
The sign with the found pin has a certain condition. If you see a pin lying, then, before picking it up, take a closer look at how it lies. If it lies with the tip towards you, you should not pick it up, because this will bring bad luck. However, nothing will stop you from picking it up on your way back, when it is pointing away from you!
It is difficult to understand the bad omen associated with the loss of a pin. But Misson ("Travels") writes: "Woe to the bride who has lost the pin! She will not see luck in anything. Woe to the bridesmaid who picks up the pin, for she will not marry until Trinity Day."
Obviously, this is why the bridesmaids used to throw out the pins from her wedding dress for good luck.
An amusing mention of pins is associated with the wedding of Queen Mary of Scotland and the Earl of Darnley. Randolph ("Letters") reports that after the wedding, the queen, who retired to her bedchamber to change her clothes, "allowed all present to approach to take a memory pin."
On Oxney Island (Romnia Marshes), after the funeral, each participant in the funeral procession stuck a pin into the cemetery gates through which the deceased was carried. It was believed that this would protect the deceased from evil spirits that could attack him.
The huntsman did the same if someone died from an unsuccessful shot while hunting. He stuck needles into every fence and into every post where the body was carried. This superstition obviously has something to do with "nailing down evil."
In the Russian tradition, borrowing a pin is also considered a bad omen: “You shouldn’t give a pin, so as not to become friends; and if you can’t do it, then first prick the one in the hand to whom you have to give.”
In contrast to the English belief, in Russia there is a widespread belief that picking up a found pin (as in general any piercing or cutting object) is inviting trouble for yourself.
Turkish amulet pin from the evil eye.
In almost all mythological systems, there is an idea that evil spirits are afraid of piercing and cutting iron objects (knives, axes, needles, etc.). This can explain the prohibition to pick up a pin with its tip towards the walking person (see English belief), since in this case a person finds himself "in a position" of evil spirits. It is also understandable why the loss of the pin by the bride is considered a bad omen - the bride loses the amulet, her magical protection. By the way, in the Russian wedding ceremony of many local traditions, the bride was stuck with crosswise pins in the hem or in the bosom from the evil eye. pin served magical amulet and in the English funeral rite (perhaps even from the deceased himself).
M. Vasmer "Etymological Dictionary of the Russian Language"
Mace, pin
Ukr. mace "mace, wand", Polish. buawa "mace, hetman's baton". Derivative on -ava (-avъ) from slav. *bula "bump, knob", Slovenian. bála "bump, nodule", Czech. boule "bump", Pol. bua "com", bula "bubble", Serbohorv. beљiti, izbeљiti "bulk eyes, goggle". || Kindred Goth. ufbauljan "inflate, make haughty", cf.v.n. biule, nov.-v.-n. Beule "bump", irl. bolach w.< *bhulak (Стокс, KZ 30, 557 и сл.); см. Бернекер 1, 100; Брюкнер 48; Ильинский, РФВ 61, 240; Корш, AfslPh 9, 493. Предположение о заимств. булава из тюрк. (Mi. TEl. 1, 268; EW 417; Горяев, ЭС 33) не имеет оснований (см. Корш, там же); точно так же следует отвергнуть попытки видеть в нем зап. заимств. (напр., Корш, там же; Mi. TEl., Доп. 1, 18). [Славский (1, 50) предполагает заимств. из неизвестного источника. — Т.]
Deciding to go for a walk before breakfast, Dan and Yuna did not think at all that Ivan's day had come. All they wanted to do was look at the otter, which old man Hobden said had long since taken up residence in their stream, and early morning was the the best time to take the beast by surprise. As the children tiptoed out of the house, the clock struck five times. Surprising peace reigned all around. After taking a few steps across the dew-strewn lawn, Dan stopped and looked at the dark prints of footprints trailing behind him.
“Perhaps we should take pity on our poor sandals,” said the boy. “They get terribly wet.
This summer, for the first time, children began to wear shoes - sandals and could not stand them. Therefore, they took them off, threw them over their shoulders and walked merrily along the wet grass.
The sun was high and already warm, but the last flakes of the night fog were still swirling over the stream.
A string of otter footprints stretched along the stream along the viscous earth, and the children followed them. They made their way through the weeds, along the cut grass: disturbed birds accompanied them with a cry. Soon the footprints turned into one thick line, as if a log was being dragged here.
The children passed the meadow of three cows, the mill lock, passed the smithy, rounded the Hobden garden, moved up the slope and found themselves on the fern-covered hill of Puka. Pheasants screamed in the trees.
"It's useless," Dan sighed. The boy looked like a bewildered hound. “The dew is already drying up, and old Hobden says that an otter can walk for many, many miles.
“I'm sure we've walked many, many miles already. Yuna fanned herself with her hat. — How quiet! Probably, it will not be a day, but a real steam room! She looked down into the valley, where no house had ever smoked.
“And Hobden is already up!” Dan pointed to the open door of the blacksmith's house. What do you think the old man has for breakfast?
“One of these.” Yuna nodded at the stately pheasants coming down to the stream to drink. Hobden says they make good dish in any season.
Suddenly, just a few steps away, almost from under their bare feet, a fox jumped out. She yelped and ran away.
- Ah, Red-headed Gossip! If I knew everything you know, that would be something! Dan remembered Hobden's words.
“Listen,” Yuna almost whispered, “do you know this strange feeling that something like this has happened to you before?” I felt it when you said "Red Gossip".
“I felt it too,” Dan said. - But what?
The children looked at each other, trembling with excitement.
- Wait wait! Dan exclaimed. I'll try to remember now. There was something to do with the fox last year. Oh, I almost caught her then!
- Do not be distracted! Yuna said, jumping up and down with excitement. “Remember, something happened before we met the fox. Hills! Open Hills! A play in the theater - "You will see what you will see" ...
- I remembered everything! Dan exclaimed. - It's as clear as two times two. Puk Hills - Pak Hills - Pak!
“Now I remember,” Yuna said. And today is Midsummer's Day again!
Then a young fern on the hill swayed, and Puck came out of it, chewing a green blade of grass.
- Good morning to you. Here's a nice meeting! he began.
Everyone shook hands and began to exchange news.
“And you had a good winter,” Puck said after a while and threw a cursory glance at the children. “Looks like nothing too bad happened to you.
“We were put on sandals,” Yuna said. - Look at my feet - they are completely pale, and my toes are so clenched - horror.
Yes, wearing shoes is a nuisance. Puck stretched out his brown, furry leg and, holding a dandelion between his fingers, plucked it.
“A year ago, I could do that,” Dan said gloomily, unsuccessfully trying to do the same. “And besides, it’s simply impossible to climb mountains in sandals.
“Still, they must be comfortable in some way,” Puck said. Otherwise people wouldn't wear them. Let's go there.
One by one they moved forward and reached the gate on the far side of the hill.
Here they stopped and, huddled together like a herd of sheep, exposing their backs to the sun, began to listen to the buzzing of forest insects.
“The little Lindens are already awake,” Yuna said, hanging on the net so that her chin touched the crossbar. Do you see the smoke from the chimney?
"It's Thursday, isn't it?" Puck turned around and looked at the old pink house at the other end of the little valley. Mrs Vinsay bakes bread on Thursdays. In such weather, the dough should rise well.
Then he yawned, and the children yawned after him, too.
And all around rustled, rustled and swayed in all directions ferns. They felt like someone was scurrying past them all the time.
"Very similar to Hill Dwellers, isn't it?" Yuna asked.
“These are the birds and wild beasts running back into the woods before the people wake up,” Puck said in a tone that sounded like he was a forester.
— Yes, we know that. I just said, "Looks like it."
“As far as I remember, the Hill People used to make more noise. They were looking for a place to settle down for the day, like birds looking for a place to settle down for the night. This was back in the days when the Hill Dwellers walked with their heads held high. Oh my God! You won't believe the things I've been involved in!
— Ho! I like! Dan exclaimed. “And this is after everything you told us last year?”
“Just before leaving, you made us forget everything,” Yuna chided him.
Puck laughed and nodded.
“I will do the same this year. I gave you Old England as your possession and took away your fear and doubt, and with your memory and memories I will do this: I will hide them, as they hide, for example, fishing rods, casting them at night so that they are not visible to others, but so that you yourself can was to get them at any moment. Well, do you agree? And he winked at them fervently.
“Yes, I have to agree,” Yuna laughed. We can't fight your sorcery. She folded her arms and leaned against the gate. “And if you wanted to turn me into someone, like an otter, would you be able to?”
“No, as long as you have sandals dangling on your shoulder, no.
- I'll take them off. Yuna dropped her sandals to the ground. Dan immediately followed suit. - And now?
You seem to trust me less now than before. True belief in miracles never requires proof.
A smile slowly crept across Pak's face.
But what's with the sandals? Yuna asked as she sat on the gate.
“Even though they have Cold Iron in them,” said Puck, perching there. — I mean the nails in the soles. This changes things.
- Why?
"Don't you feel it yourself?" Wouldn't you like to constantly run barefoot now, like last year? You wouldn't want to, would you?
“No, no, we probably wouldn’t want to all the time. You see, I’m becoming an adult,” Yuna said.
“Listen,” said Dan, “you yourself told us last year—remember, in the theatre? — that you are not afraid of Cold Iron.
- I'm not afraid. But people are another matter. They obey Cold Iron. After all, they live next to iron from birth, because it is in every house, isn't it? They come into contact with iron every day, and it can either elevate a person or destroy him. Such is the fate of all mortals: nothing can be done about it.
"I don't quite understand you," Dan said. - What do you mean?
I could explain, but it will take a long time.
“Well, it’s still a long way before breakfast,” Dan said. - And besides, before leaving, we looked into the pantry ...
He took one large slice of bread out of his pocket, Yuna another, and they shared it with Pak.
“This bread was baked in the house of the little Lindens,” Puck said, sinking his white teeth into it. “I recognize Mrs. Vinsay's hand. He ate, chewing each bite leisurely, just like old Hobden, and like him, he didn't drop a single crumb.
The sun shone through the windows of the Linden house, and under the cloudless sky the valley was filled with peace and warmth.
“Hmm… Cold Iron,” Puck began. Dan and Yuna were looking forward to the story. “Mortals, as the Hill Dwellers call people, take iron lightly. They hang a horseshoe on the door and forget to turn it back to front. Then, sooner or later, one of the Hillmen slips into the house, finds a nursing baby and ...
- O! I know! Yuna exclaimed. “He steals it and puts another one in its place.
- Never! Pak retorted firmly. “Parents themselves take bad care of their child, and then they put the blame on someone else. This is where the talk about kidnapped and abandoned children comes from. Don't trust them. If it were my will, I would put such parents on a cart and drive them well over the potholes.
“But they don’t do that now,” Yuna said.
- What don't they do? Do not drive or treat the child badly? Well, you know. Some people don't change at all, just like the earth. The people of the Hills never do such things with the toss. They enter the house on tiptoe and in a whisper, as if it were a hissing kettle, they sing to a child sleeping in a niche in the fireplace, now a spell, now a conspiracy. And later, when the child's mind matures and opens like a kidney, he will behave differently from all people. But the person himself will not be better off from this. I would generally ban touching babies. So I once said to Sir Huon [*55].
“And who is Sir Huon?” Dan asked, and Puck turned to the boy with mute surprise.
— Sir Huon of Bordeaux became king of the fairies after Oberon. He was once a brave knight, but disappeared on his way to Babylon. That was a long time ago. Have you heard the joke rhyme "How many miles to Babylon?" [*56]
- Still would! Dan exclaimed.
“Well, Sir Huon was young when he first appeared. But back to the babies who are allegedly being replaced. I once said to Sir Huon (the morning was as wonderful then as it is today): “If you really want to influence and influence people, and as far as I know that is your desire, why don’t you make a fair deal, not to take in some suckling infant and bring him up here among us, away from the Cold Iron, as King Oberon did in former times. Then you could prepare a wonderful fate for the child and then send it back to the world of people.
“What is past is past,” Sir Huon answered me. “I just don't think we can do it. Firstly, the infant must be taken in such a way as not to cause harm to himself, neither to his father, nor to his mother. Secondly, the baby must be born away from iron, that is, in a house where there is not and never has been a single piece of iron. And finally, thirdly, he will have to be kept away from iron until we allow him to find his destiny. No, it's not all that easy." Sir Huon lost himself in thought and rode away. He used to be human.
One day, on the eve of the day of the great god Odin [*57], I found myself in the market of Lewes, where they sold slaves, much as pigs are now sold in Robertsbridge market. The only difference was that the pigs had a nose ring, while the slaves wore it around their necks.
What other ring? Dan asked.
“A ring of Cold Iron, four fingers wide and one thick, similar to a throwing ring, but with a lock that snaps around the neck. In our forge, the owners made a good income from the sale of such rings, they packed them in oak sawdust and sent them all over Old England. And then one farmer bought a slave with a baby in this market. For the farmer, the child was only an extra burden that prevented his slave from doing her job: driving cattle.
"He was a beast himself!" - Yuna exclaimed and hit the goal with her bare heel.
The farmer began to scold the merchant. But then the woman interrupted him: “This is not my child at all. I took a baby from one of the slaves from our party, the poor thing died yesterday.”
"Then I'll take it to the church," said the farmer. “Let the holy church make a monk out of him, and we will calmly go home.”
It was dusk. The farmer stole into the church and laid the child right on the cold floor. And when he left, pulling his head into his shoulders, I breathed a cold breath on his back, and since then, I heard, he could not get warm at any hearth. Still would! This is not surprising! Then I stirred up the child and ran as fast as I could with him here, to the Hills.
It was early morning and the dew had not yet dried. The day of Thor was coming, just like today. I laid the child on the ground, and all the Hill People crowded around and began to look at him with curiosity.
“You did bring the child after all,” said Sir Huon, looking at the child with purely human interest.
"Yes," I replied, "and his stomach is empty."
The child went straight from screaming, demanding food for himself.
"Whose is he?" Sir Huon asked as our women took the baby away to feed.
"You'd better ask about it full moon or Morning Star. Maybe they know. I - no. In the moonlight, I could see only one thing - this is a virgin baby, and there is no brand on it. I vouch that he was born away from Cold Iron, for he was born in a thatched hut. Taking him, I did no harm to either the father, or the mother, or the child, because his mother, a slave, died.
"Well, it's all for the best, Robin," said Sir Huon. “The less he will want to get away from us. We will prepare a wonderful fate for him, and he will influence and influence people, which is what we have always striven for.”
Then Sir Huon's wife appeared and took him away to enjoy the wonderful tricks of the little one.
- And who was his wife? Dan asked.
— Lady Esclermonde.
She used to be a simple woman
until she followed her husband and became a fairy. And I was not very interested in small children - in my lifetime I managed to see enough of them so much - so I did not go with my spouses and stayed on the hill. Soon I heard heavy hammer blows. They were distributed from there - from the forge. Puck pointed in the direction of Hobden's house. It was still too early for the workers. And then the thought flashed through me again that the coming day was the day of Thor. I remember well how it blew not strong northeast wind, moving and shaking the tops of oaks. I decided to go see what was going on there.
- And what did you see?
- I saw a forger, he made some object from iron. Having finished the work, I weighed it in the palm of my hand - all this time he had his back to me - and threw his product, like throwing a throwing ring, far into the valley. I saw how the iron flashed in the sun, but I did not see where it fell. Yes, that didn't interest me. I knew that sooner or later someone would find him.
— How did you know? Dan asked again.
“Because I recognized the forger,” Puck replied calmly.
“It must have been Weyland?” Yuna asked.
- Not. With Weyland, of course, I would have chatted for an hour or two. But it wasn't him. Therefore,” Puck described a strange arc in the air, “I lay down and counted the blades of grass under my nose until the wind died down and the forger departed—he and his Hammer [*58]
— So it was Top! Yuna whispered, holding her breath.
— Who else! After all, it was the day of Thor. Puck again made the same sign with his hand. “I did not tell Sir Huon and his wife what I saw. Keep your suspicions to yourself, if you are so suspicious, and do not bother others with them. And besides, I could be wrong about the item that the blacksmith forged.
Maybe he worked just for his own pleasure, although it was not like him, and threw away only an old piece of unnecessary iron. Nothing can be certain. So I kept my mouth shut and rejoiced at the child… He was a wonderful baby, and besides, the Hill Dwellers counted on him so much that they simply wouldn’t believe me if I told them everything that I saw then. And the boy is very accustomed to me. As soon as he started walking, we slowly climbed all the local hills. It doesn't hurt to fall into a fern!
He felt when the day was beginning up above, on the ground, and he would start pounding, banging, banging, like a rabbit on a drum, with his hands and feet, and shouting: “Otkoy! Otkoy! ”until someone who knew the spell released it from the hills outside, and then he called me:“ Lobin! Lobin!” until I arrived.
- He's just adorable! How I would like to see him! Yuna said.
Yes, he was a good boy. When it came to memorizing witchcraft spells and the like, he used to sit on a hill somewhere in the shade and let's mumble the lines he remembered, trying his hand on some passerby. If a bird flew up to him or a tree leaned over (they did it out of pure love, because everyone, absolutely everyone on the hills loved him), he always shouted: “Robin! Look, look! Look, look, Robin! - and immediately began to mutter one or another spell, which he had just been taught. He confused them all the time and spoke topsy-turvy, until I plucked up the courage and explained to him that he was talking nonsense and that even the smallest miracle could not be done with it. When he learned the spells in the correct order and was able, as we say, to juggle them unerringly, he began to pay more and more attention to people and to the events taking place on earth. People have always attracted him especially strongly, because he himself was a mere mortal.
When he grew up, he was able to calmly walk on the earth among people, both where there was Cold Iron and where it was not. So I started taking him on night walks where he could look at people calmly and I could make sure he didn't touch Cold Iron. It was not at all difficult, because there were so many interesting and attractive things on earth for the boy, besides this iron. And yet he was a real punishment!
I will never forget the first time I took him to the little Lindens. It was generally his first night spent under any roof. The smell of fragrant candles, mixed with the smell of hanging pork hams, a featherbed that was just being stuffed with feathers, a warm night with drizzling rain - all these impressions fell upon him at once, and he completely lost his head. Before I could stop him - and we were hiding in a bakery - he threw lightning, lightning and thunder all over the sky, from which people poured out into the street with screeching and screaming, and one girl turned the hive over so that the bees ate the boy (he- I didn’t even suspect that such an attack could threaten him), and when we returned home, his face resembled a steamed potato.
Can you imagine how angry Sir Huon and Lady Esclermonde were with me, poor Robin! They said that in no case should I trust the boy any more, that they should no longer let him walk with me at night, but the boy paid as little attention to their orders as to bee stings. Night after night, as soon as it got dark, I went to his whistle, found him among the dew-covered ferns, and we set off until morning to roam the earth, among people. He asked questions and I answered them as best I could. Soon we got into another story. Puck laughed so hard that the gate cracked. “Once in Brightling we saw a man beating his wife with a stick in the garden. I was just about to throw him over his own club, when our urchin suddenly jumped over the fence and rushed at the fighter. The woman naturally took her husband's side, and while he was beating the boy, she scratched my poor fellow's face. And only when I, blazing with fire, like a coastal beacon, danced through their cabbage beds, they abandoned their victim and ran into the house. The boy was scary to look at. His green jacket, embroidered with gold, was torn to shreds; the man gave him a good beating, and the woman scratched her face in blood. He looked like a real tramp.
“Listen, Robin,” the boy said as I tried to clean him with a bunch of dry grass, “I don’t quite understand these people. I ran to help the poor old woman, and she herself attacked me!
“What did you expect? I replied. “This, by the way, was the case when you could use your ability to conjure, instead of rushing at a person three times your size.”
“I didn't guess,” he said. “But once I hit him on the head so that it was no worse than any witchcraft.”
“Better look at your nose,” I advised, “and wipe the blood off it—but not with your sleeve! - have pity on what survived. Here, take a sorrel leaf.”
I knew what Lady Esclermonde would say. And he didn't care! He was as happy as a gypsy who stole a horse, although his suit, embroidered with gold, covered with blood and green stains, looked like the suit of an ancient man who had just been sacrificed.
The inhabitants of the Hills, of course, blamed me for everything.
According to them, the boy himself could not do anything bad.
“You yourself educate him so that in the future, when you let him go, he can influence people,” I answered. “He already started doing it. Why are you embarrassing me? I have nothing to be ashamed of. He is a man and by nature is drawn to his own kind.
“But we don't want him to start like that,” said Lady Esclermonde. “We expect him to do great things in the future, and not hang around at night and jump over fences like gypsies.”
"I don't blame you, Robin," Sir Huon said, "but I really think you could have looked after the little one more closely."
“I've been making sure the boy doesn't touch the Cold Iron for sixteen years,” I protested. “You know as well as I do that as soon as he touches the iron, he will find his fate once and for all, no matter what other fate you may prepare for him. You owe me something for this service."
Sir Huon was a man in the past, and therefore was ready to agree with me, but Lady Esclermonde, the patroness of mothers, persuaded him.
“We are very grateful to you,” Sir Huon said, “but we think that you and the boy are spending too much time on your hills now.”
“Although you reproached me,” I replied, “I give you one last chance to change your mind.” After all, I could not stand it when they demanded an account from me for what I do on my own hills. If I didn't love the boy so much, I wouldn't even listen to their reproaches.
"No no! said Lady Esclermonde. - When he happens to me, for some reason nothing like this happens to him. It's entirely your fault."
“Since you have decided so,” I exclaimed, “listen to me!”
Pak cut the air twice with his palm and continued: “By the Oak, Ash and Blackthorn, and also by the hammer of the ace Thor, I swear before all of you on my hills that from this moment until the boy finds his destiny, whatever it may be was, you can cross me out of all your plans and calculations.
After that, I disappeared,” Puck snapped his fingers, “like the flame of a candle disappears when you blow on it, and although they shouted and called for me, I did not appear again. But, however, I did not promise to leave the boy unattended. I followed him carefully, very carefully! When the boy found out what they forced me to do, he told them everything he thought about it, but they began to kiss and fuss around him so much that in the end (I don’t blame him, because he was still small), he became look at everything through their eyes, calling himself evil and ungrateful towards them. Then they began to show him new ideas, to demonstrate miracles, if only he would stop thinking about the earth and people. Poor human heart! How he used to shout and call me, and I could neither answer nor even let him know that I was there!
— Never, never? Yuna asked. Even if he was very lonely?
“He couldn’t,” Dan answered, thinking. "You swore by Thor's hammer that you wouldn't interfere, didn't you, Puck?"
Yes, with Thor's hammer! Puck replied in a low, unexpectedly loud voice, but immediately switched back to the soft one he always spoke. - And the boy really felt sad from loneliness when he stopped seeing me. He tried to learn everything - he had good teachers - but from time to time I saw him take his eyes off the big black books and direct them down into the valley towards the people. He began to learn how to compose songs - and here he had a good teacher - but he also sang songs with his back to the Hills, and his face down, to the people. I saw it! I sat and mourned so close that the rabbit jumped up to me with one jump. He then studied elementary, intermediate, and advanced magic. He promised Lady Esclermonde that he would not come close to people, so he had to be content with performances with images he created in order to give vent to his feelings.
What other performances? Yuna asked.
“Yes, childish sorcery, as we say. I'll show you somehow. It occupied him for some time and did no particular harm to anyone, except perhaps for a few drunkards who had sat up in the tavern and were returning home late at night. But I knew what all this meant, and I followed him relentlessly, like an ermine after a rabbit. No, there were no such good boys in the world! I have seen him follow Sir Huon and Lady Esclermonde without stepping aside so as not to fall into a furrow made by Cold Iron; or a shovel, and at that very time his heart yearned with all its might for people. O glorious boy! Those two always predicted a great future for him, but they did not have the courage in their hearts to let him try his fate. I was told that many had already warned them against possible consequences, but they did not want to hear anything. That's why what happened happened.
One warm night, I saw the boy wandering through the hills, engulfed in the flames of discontent. Lightning after lightning flared up among the clouds, some shadows rushed into the valley, until at last all the groves below were filled with screeching and barking hunting dogs, and all the forest paths, shrouded in a light fog, were clogged with knights in fully armed. All this, of course, was only a performance, which he caused by his own sorcery. Behind the knights, grandiose castles could be seen, rising calmly and majestically on arches of moonlight, and in their windows the girls waved their hands in greeting. Then suddenly everything turned into boiling rivers, and then everything was enveloped in a complete haze that absorbed the colors, a haze that reflected the darkness that reigned in the young heart. But those games didn't bother me. Looking at the flickering lightning with lightning, I read discontent in his soul and felt unbearable pity for him. Oh, how I pitied him! He roamed slowly back and forth, like a bull in an unfamiliar pasture, sometimes completely alone, sometimes surrounded by a dense pack of dogs he had created, sometimes at the head of created knights riding horses with hawk wings, he rushed to save the created girls. I had no idea that he had reached such perfection in witchcraft and that he had such a rich imagination, but with boys this happens often.
At the hour when the owl returned home for the second time, I saw Sir Huon and his wife riding down my Hill, where, as you know, only I could conjure. The sky above the valley continued to glow,
and the couple were very pleased that the boy had reached such perfection in magic. I have heard them go through one wonderful fate after another, choosing the one that will be his life when they decide in their hearts to finally let him go to people to influence them. Sir Huon would like to see him king of this or that kingdom, Lady Esclermonde - the wisest of sages, whom all people would praise for his intelligence and kindness. She was a very kind woman.
Suddenly we noticed that the lightning bolts of his discontent receded into the clouds, and the created dogs fell silent at once.
“There, someone else is fighting his witchcraft! cried Lady Esclermonde, pulling on the reins. Who is against him?
I could have answered her, but I thought that there was no need for me to tell about the deeds and deeds of Asa Thor.
"How did you know it was him?" Yuna asked.
“I remember how a light northeast wind blew through the oaks and shook their tops. Lightning flashed for the last time, engulfing the entire sky, and instantly went out, like a candle goes out, and prickly hail fell on our heads. We heard the boy walking along the bend in the river where I first saw you.
“Hurry! Come here quickly!" called Lady Esclermonde, holding out her hands into the darkness.
The boy slowly approached, stumbling all the time - he was a man and could not see in the dark.
"Oh, what is it?" he asked, turning to himself.
We all three heard his words.
"Hold on, dear, hold on! Watch out for Cold Iron! shouted Sir Huon, and he and Lady Esclermonde rushed down like woodcocks, screaming.
I also ran near their stirrup, but it was too late. We felt that somewhere in the darkness a boy had touched Cold Iron, for the Horses of the Hills were frightened of something and twirled around, snoring and snorting.
Then I decided that it was already possible for me to show myself into the world, and so I did.
“Whatever this item is, it is Cold Iron and the boy has already grabbed onto it. We just have to find out what exactly he took up, because this will determine the fate of the boy.
“Come here, Robin,” the boy called to me, barely hearing my voice. “I grabbed onto something, I don’t know what…”
"But it's in your hands! I shouted back. Tell us, is the object solid? Cold? And does it have diamonds on top? Then it is the royal scepter."
“No, it doesn’t look like it,” the boy answered, took a breath and again, in complete darkness, began to pull something out of the ground. We heard him puffing.
“Does it have a handle and two sharp edges? I asked. “Then this is a knight’s sword.”
"No, it's not a sword," was the answer. “This is not a plow share, not a hook, not a hook, not a crooked knife, and in general none of those tools that I have seen in people.”
He began to rake the ground with his hands, trying to extract an unfamiliar object from there.
“Whatever it is,” Sir Huon said to me, “you, Robin, cannot but know who put it there, because otherwise you would not have asked all these questions. And you should have told me about it a long time ago, as soon as you found out yourself.
“Neither you nor I could do anything against the will of the blacksmith who forged and laid this object, so that the boy would find it in his own time,” I answered in a whisper and told Sir Huon about what I saw in the forge on the day of Thor when the baby was first brought to the Hills.
“Well, farewell, dreams! exclaimed Sir Huon. “It's not a scepter, it's not a sword, it's not a plow. But maybe it's a scholarly book with gold clasps? She, too, could mean a good fate.
But we knew that these words were simply comforting ourselves, and Lady Esclermonde, since she had once been a woman, told us so directly.
"Praise be to Thor! Praise Thor! the boy shouted. “It’s round, it doesn’t have an end, it’s made of Cold Iron, four fingers wide and one finger thick, and there are some words scrawled on it.”
"Read them if you can!" I shouted back. The darkness has already dissipated, and the owl once again flew out of the nest.
The boy read the runes inscribed on the iron aloud:
Few could
Anticipate what will happen
When the child finds
Cold Iron.
Now we saw him, our boy: he stood proudly, illuminated by the light of the stars, and on his neck sparkled a new, massive ring of the god Thor.
"Is that how they wear it?" - he asked.
Lady Esclermonde began to cry.
“Yes, that’s right,” I replied. The lock on the ring, however, was not yet latched.
“What fate does this ring signify? Sir Huon asked me as the boy fingered the ring. “You who are not afraid of Cold Iron, you must tell us and teach us.”
“I can tell, but I can’t teach,” I replied. - This ring of Thor today means only one thing - from now on he will have to live among people, work for them, do what they need, even if they themselves do not even suspect that they will need it. He will never be his own master, but there will be no other master over him. He will receive half of what he gives with his art, and give twice as much as he receives, and so on until the end of his days, and if he does not bear his burden of labor until his very last breath, then the work of his whole life will be wasted wasted."
“O evil, cruel Top! exclaimed Lady Esclermonde. But look, look! The castle is still open! He hasn't had time to snap it yet. He can still take off the ring. He can still come back to us. Come back! Come back!" She came as close as she dared, but she couldn't touch the Cold Iron. The boy could take off the ring. Yes, I could. We stood and waited to see if he would do it, but he resolutely raised his hand and snapped the lock shut forever.
"How could I have done otherwise?" - he said.
“No, probably not,” I replied. "Morning is coming soon, and if you three want to say goodbye, then say goodbye now, because at sunrise you will have to submit to the Cold Iron that will separate you."
The boy, Sir Huon, and Lady Esclermonde sat huddled together, tears streaming down their cheeks, and until dawn they talked to each other last words farewell.
Yes, there has never been such a noble boy in the world.
"And what happened to him?" Yuna asked.
As soon as dawn broke, he and his fate were subject to Cold Iron. The boy went to live and work for people. One day he met a girl close to him in spirit, and they got married, and they had children, just like “a lot is small,” as the saying goes. Maybe this year you will meet one of his descendants again.
- It is good to! Yuna said. “But what did the poor lady do?”
- And what can be done when the as Thor himself chose such a fate for the boy? Sir Huon and Lady Esclermonde consoled themselves only by the fact that they taught the boy how to help people and influence them. And he really was a boy with a beautiful soul! By the way, isn't it time for you to go to breakfast already? Come on, I'll walk you a little.
Soon, Dan, Yuna and Pak reached the place where there was a fern dry as a stick. Here Dan gently nudged Yuna with his elbow, and she immediately stopped and in the blink of an eye put on one sandal.
"Now," she said, balancing on one leg with difficulty, "what will you do if we don't go any further?" Leaves of Oak, Ash and Blackthorn can't be plucked here, and besides, I'm standing on Cold Iron!
Dan, meanwhile, also put on the second sandal, grabbing his sister's hand to keep from falling.
- I'm sorry, what? Pak was surprised. "That's human shamelessness!" He walked around them, shaking with pleasure. “Do you really think that, besides a handful of dead leaves, I have no other magical power?” That's what happens when you get rid of fear and doubt! Well, I'll show you!
That kingdoms, thrones, capitals
Do you have time in your eyes?
Their flourishing lasts no longer,
Than the life of a flower in the fields.
But new buds will swell
Caress the eyes of new people,
But on old tired ground
Cities are rising again.
The narcissist is short-term and young,
He is unaware
That winter blizzards and cold
They will come in due time.
Unknowingly falls into carelessness,
Proud of your beauty
Enthusiastically counts for eternity
Your seven days.
And time, living in the name
Good to everything
Makes us blind
Like him.
On the verge of death
Shadows whisper to shadows
Convinced and bold: "Believe,
Our work is eternal!
A minute later the children were already at old Hobden's and began to eat his simple breakfast - a cold pheasant. They vied with each other about how they almost stepped on a hornet's nest in the fern, and asked the old man to smoke out the wasps.
“It’s too early for wasp nests, and I won’t go there to dig for any money,” the old man answered calmly. “Miss Yuna, you have a thorn stuck in your leg. Sit down and put on the second sandal. You're old enough to run barefoot without even having breakfast. Reinforce yourself with a pheasant.
Notes:
55. Sir Huon is the hero of the old French poem of the same name. Oberon, king of the fairies, helped the young knight Sir Huon win the heart of the beautiful Lady Esclermonde. After his death, Sir Huon succeeded Oberon and became king of the fairies himself.
56. Babylon - an ancient city in Mesopotamia, the capital of Babylonia.
57. Odin - in Scandinavian mythology, the supreme god, from the kind of Ases. Sage, god of war, master of Valhalla.
58. Hammer. - The god Thor had a weapon - the war hammer Mjollnir (the same root as the Russian word for "lightning"), which hit the enemy and returned to the owner like a boomerang.
Silver for the maids, gold for the Lady,
Warriors-servants will have enough copper ...
- I, - the Baron exclaimed, - is destined to rule
Impartial iron. It is the strongest of all!
He marched with an army against the King.
The castle was under siege, betraying the oath.
- You're lying! grumbled the guard with a cannon on the wall,
Our Iron is stronger than yours!
The cores mow down the knights. Suzerain is strong!
The rebellion is quickly put down and the Baron is captured.
Chained in shackles. Alive, so what!?
Iron is indifferent, and - stronger than it!
The King was polite with him (a true gentleman!):
- What if I let you go? Do not wait for change again?
The baron answered clearly: “Don't laugh, you hypocrite!
Iron is impartial. It is stronger than people!
Goodbye slaves and cowards, but what about me,
If the crown does not fit, then a noose awaits the neck.
I can only hope for a miracle.
Iron is indifferent, and it is the strongest of all!”
The King has an answer ready (there was that other King!):
“Take my wine and bread and dine with me!
In the name of the Blessed Virgin, I will prove to you -
Iron as another is stronger than all people!”
Blessing Wine and Bread, the King moved a chair
And he held out his hands to the light of the Baron:
“Look, traces of through nails are still bleeding, -
so they tried to prove to me that Steel is the strongest!
Just as indifferent is the substance of the Nail,
But - it changes the soul, passing through the palm ...
I will forgive betrayal, forgive your sin
In the name of Iron, which is stronger than all!
The scepter and the crown are not enough - take away!
This burden must be adequately retained ... "
... And he knelt in obedience to the Baron:
- The mind was clouded by Impartial Iron,
Crucifixion Iron again sees it!
R. Kipling COLD IRON
"Gold is for the mistress - silver for the maid -
Copper for the craftsman cunning of his trade."
"Good!" said the Baron, sitting in his hall,
"But Iron - Cold Iron - is the master of them all."
So he made rebellion "gainst the King his liege,
Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.
"Nay!" said the cannoneer on the castle wall,
"But Iron - Cold Iron - shall be the master of you all!"
Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,
When the cruel cannon-balls laid "em all along;
He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,
"And Iron - Cold Iron - was the master of it all!"
Yet his King spake friendly (ah, how kind a Lord!)
"What if I release thee now and give you back your sword?"
"Nay!" said the Baron, "mock not at my fall,
For Iron - Cold Iron - is master of men all!"
"Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown -
Helters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown."
As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,
Yet his King made answer (few such King there be!)
"Hereis Bread and here is Wine - sit and sup with me.
Eat and drink in Mary's Name, the wiles I do recall
How Iron - Cold Iron - can be master of men all!"
He took the Wine and blessed it. He blessed and break the Bread.
With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:
"See! These Hands they pierced with nails, outside my city wall,
Show Iron - Cold Iron - to be master of men all."
"Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong.
Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.
I forgive your treason - I redeem your fall -
For Iron - Cold Iron - must be master of men all!"
"Crowns are for the valiant - scepters for the bold!
Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold!"
"Nay!" said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,
"But Iron - Cold Iron - is master of men all!
Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!"
