IX. THE KING'S COAT OF ARMS
The Red King could not disguise his pleasure in the tale of the Wonder-Garden, though he grumbled when he found there was to be no fighting in it. When Harold had finished reading the story, Red Rex patted him on the head and said gruffly, -
"Good, my boy! You do, indeed, read a tale as well as one would wish. But tell me, now; in what part of Kisington is the place where this Gerda had her Wonder-Garden? Is it far from here?"
"Nay, not far from here," said Harold. "About a mile from our library, by the sea, stands the villa where Gerda and the Lord Mayor's son lived happily ever after. I could show Your Majesty the place, if you were not unfortunately at war with our city."
"I would fain see that place," said Red Rex thoughtfully. "I have a fancy that Gerda, indeed, came from my land. I have heard a legend that one of my great-great-grandfather's own sisters was stolen by the gypsies, and carried away to a far country. It might well be that she ran away from those gypsies, and escaped to this Kingdom, and that it was she whom the Lord Mayor found living lonely by the sea."
"It might well be so!" said Harold. "Oh, Your Majesty! How exciting! Then the Lady Anyse, who lives now at that villa, may be your own far-off cousin."
"She may be, indeed," mused the Red King. "What like is she, Harold?"
"She is tall, and handsome, and has red hair like Your Majesty," said Harold. "I have seen her often when I went to visit the Garden."
"The Garden?" exclaimed Red Rex. "Does the Wonder-Garden, then, still exist?"
"Not quite the same as in the day of Gerda and Cedric," answered Harold, "but yet a wonder-garden. It is called 'The Aquarium' now, and is one of the public gardens of Kisington, given to the town by the will of Cedric and Gerda. The Lady Anyse has it under her care."
"Verily, I should like to visit it and see both its wonders and my long-lost cousin," muttered the Red King.
"What a pity that you are making war upon our city!" exclaimed Harold. "There are so many fine things that cannot be while there is war."
"Yet war must be," answered Red Rex. "And I must be at it straightway." He rose and flourished his sword with a determined air.
"But at least you will spare the east of Kisington, where the Wonder-Garden lay, and not fire gums or arrows in that direction?" suggested Harold, pointing eastward. The Red King followed the direction of his finger.
"Yes, that I will promise," said Red Rex, after a moment's hesitation. "I promise that; lest otherwise I might injure my own blood royal. Because I am King I must not forget that!" He swelled his chest proudly.
"Noblesse oblige!" murmured Harold. "It was the motto of the Lion Passant."
"I know that motto well; and what of a lion passant?" inquired Red Rex. "A lion passant is one of the emblems in my own royal coat of arms!"
"Then, Your Majesty has not heard the tale of the Lion Passant?" asked Harold, feigning surprise. "It is one of the best known in our land. You will find your royal lion in the arms of our city of Derrydown; and there is a tale to account for that."
Harold began to smile as if the memory of the tale pleased him.
Red Rex frowned. "It is too late to hear that tale to-night," he murmured.
"Yes, Your Majesty," agreed Harold. "Besides, I cannot tell it by heart. I should have to get the book from our generous library. I can read it better; there is so much in the manner of the writing. It is a pity Your Majesty is in such a hurry to fight, or I might bring that book hither to-morrow and read you the pleasant tale."
The Red King fidgeted. "I am losing time at a terrible rate!" he growled. "Think of what harm I might be doing! When have I wasted hours like this, you wheedling boy?"
"I do not think these hours are wasted. It is war that wastes," said Harold.
"Fudge!" retorted Red Rex; "we must have war. Was that lion a red lion, Harold?"
"A red lion, Your Majesty," nodded Harold.
The Red King grew excited. "I must, then, hear about him!" he cried. "It is my duty. – What ho, there!" he shouted to his men who were making ready to continue the siege. "I have changed my mind. We will not fight for another day. Take this boy back to the city, and proclaim continued truce until he returns to us."
"Your Majesty is wise," said Harold with shining eyes. "I think you will not be sorry to hear the tale of the Lion Passant."
So the crisis was delayed for another day; and Kisington blessed Harold. They made a feast at the poor widow's cottage from presents sent by the Leading Citizens. Richard and Robert sat at the head of the table, one on each side of Harold, and all his other boy and girl friends sat down the sides of the table, and he told them all about his adventure with the besieging King. One and all begged him to let them go with him on the following day. But this, of course, Harold could not promise. He was the only one who could read well enough to charm the War-Lord. They all wished that they had learned to read as well as Harold.
When on the morrow Harold returned to the Red King, this is the story which he read from one of the peaceful books of Kisington-the story of The Lion Passant.
X. THE LION PASSANT
A long time ago, in one of the narrowest side-streets of Kisington, stood an old curiosity shop, full of strange things. It was a dark little den inside, so dark that the outer sunshine made the old shopman blink as he stood in the doorway talking with the stranger. The stranger was a Medicine Man, and he had just sold a bottle of his famous Elixir of Life to the old shopkeeper.
"Yes, sir," said the Medicine Man, as he turned to go, "you will find my Magic Elixir all that I claim it to be. It will bring back youth and beauty to the aged. It will give sight to eyes that see not, hearing to deaf ears, speech to the tongue-tied and motion to limbs that have never moved before. It will also cure whooping-cough."
"I hope so," said the old man in an eager voice. He had heard only one word in six of the stranger's talk. "I hope so, for I need it very much. Shall I take it all at once, or-" But already the Medicine Man was halfway down the road, with the gold coin which the old man had given him safe in his deepest pocket. The old man returned into his shop, blinking more than ever, and stumbling over the piled-up rubbish as he went. It was an abominably crowded little room. Each corner, each shelf, each hook in wall or ceiling was occupied. Everything was piled high or filled up with something else.
In the midst of all kinds of curiosities, the Lion Passant stood waiting. He had been waiting there so many years that the Old Curiosity Shop man had quite given up hope that any one would ever come for him. The Lion was very old; older than the shop, older than the old man who kept it, older than anything else in the shop-and that was saying much.
The Lion was cobwebby and scarred; but, notwithstanding, he was a fine figure of a beast. He had been finely carved out of oak and colored a warm gules, though now somewhat faded. He was carved in the attitude of marching along a parti-colored pole of gules and silver. His dexter paw was raised in the air, his red tongue hung out and his tail was curved gracefully over his back. There was something which I cannot exactly describe of grand and dignified about the Lion Passant, – what the books call a "decayed gentility."
The old man stumbled and blinked his way toward the door at the rear of the shop. He was eager to try the Elixir of Life and become young again, and he hurried faster than was wise in the shadowy labyrinth. Just as he was opposite the Lion Passant, he caught his foot in a sprawling chair and stumbled forward, with both arms stretched out to save himself. Away flew the bottle of Elixir, smash! against the head of the Lion Passant. The glass shivered into a thousand pieces, and the precious golden drops went trickling down over the carved beast, over the table, onto the floor, where it made a dusty pool about the feet of a cracked china cat.
"Oh, me! Oh, me!" groaned the old man. "All my precious youth wasted, and no money left to buy more! Oh, me! What an unlucky day it is!" And he stumbled out to tell his wife all about it. Now, as soon as he had left the shop, strange things began to happen there.
"Marry, come up!" exclaimed the Lion, licking his red tongue. "I am a-weary of this. My leg is asleep." And he set down the dexter paw, which he had been holding in that position for four hundred years or more.
"Wow!" cried the China Cat from the floor. "My cracks are growing together again! I believe I am as good as new!" And she arched her back and yawned.
The Lion lashed his tail once, to be sure that he could really do it, and looked about the shop in disgust. "I must away!" he said.
"Oh!" cried the Cat, lazily, beginning to lick her paw, as if she had always been doing so since the discovery of China. "You are so restless! Where are you going?"
The Lion stepped gingerly down from his striped pole to the table, and from there to the floor. As he did so, he seemed to increase in size, so that by the time he had reached the shop door he was as large as an ordinary lion. "I am going to seek Them," said the Lion, with dignity. "I am, as you see, a Lion Passant, the crest of a noble house. Many years I have been separated from my people. I have waited for Them to come for me. Every time the shop-bell tinkled it has waked an echo of hope in my heart. But They do not come; I must, then, go to Them." He sighed deeply.
"How will you know where to find them?" asked the Cat, respectfully.
"I shall seek Them in the halls of the mighty," said the Lion proudly. "They were of the noblest in the land, I remember."
"By what name shall you know them?" asked the Cat again, who was inquisitive.
The Lion became thoughtful. "The name?" he repeated. "The name? I have forgot the name. But I was the crest that They bore in battle, the figure on their shields, the carving above their hearths."
"Yes, but times have changed, folk say," objected the Cat. "How shall you know your people among the New Ones?"
"I shall recognize Them," said the Lion confidently. "I shall know Them, the proudest, the mightiest, the bravest, and most fair. Besides, is there not the family tradition? Once, in the far ages before even I was carved, the first knight of our line had an adventure with a lion; hence my figure upon Their crest. I know not the tale complete; but this I know-that from that time on, no one of Them has been able to see a lion, to speak or hear the name, without sneezing thrice. So it was in that day, so it has been ever since."
"That, indeed, is something definite," yawned the Cat, as the Lion stalked out into the sunshine. "Well, I'm glad I have no tradition but one of comfort." And she curled herself up on a piece of ancient gold brocade.
So the Lion went forth to seek his people. He had not gone far before he overtook the Medicine Man, who had sold no Elixir since leaving the Curiosity Shop. The Lion padded up behind him so silently that the man did not hear him until he was quite close; then the Lion gave a gentle roar.
"Abracadabra!" cried the man, turning pale and shaking till his teeth rattled. He was so ignorant that he did not know a Heraldic Device when he saw one. But he had seen pictures in books and knew that this brilliant red beast was no ordinary lion.
"Kind youth," said the Lion grandly, lifting his paw and curving his tail in the old way, "I owe you much. Your Magic Elixir has given me life and motion. If there is aught I can do for you, I shall be glad."
The man's face was full of wonder. "You owe much to the Elixir?" he cried. "Oh, pray explain!"
So the Lion explained. When he had finished the simple story, the Medicine Man's face was illumined with a great idea. "It is magnificent!" he cried. "It is beyond my wildest dreams. For, to tell you the truth-but why tell the truth? This justifies me, certainly. Now, if you would but go with me as a Living Testimonial?"
The Lion bowed. He did not like the idea, for it threatened notoriety; but he felt a sense of duty. "Noblesse oblige," he murmured. "It is Our motto. Nothing can hurt my pride, if it has a foundation upon truth. I will go with you until I feel that my debt is paid."
"It is well!" said the man. And they journeyed together. Naturally, the appearance of a warm crimson lion caused considerable excitement in the streets of Kisington. Folk crowded around him and the Medicine Man, and when they heard his story, they bought eagerly of the Elixir. "He is the crest of a noble house come to life!" they whispered among themselves. "What noble house?" The Lion listened eagerly for the answer; but heads were shaken in reply. No one recognized the device.
There was one thing which annoyed the Lion. This was the tendency of the Medicine Man to exaggerate the powers of his Elixir. As time went on, he began to add the oddest stories to the one he told about the Lion. Was that not wonderful enough? The Lion was astonished, shocked, outraged. He protested, but in vain. The habit of exaggeration, once contracted, becomes a terrible master. The Medicine Man seemed unable longer to speak the truth.
One morning when he was telling his wicked lies to a company of trusting women and children, the Lion rose from the center of the eager circle and stalked away from the Medicine Man. "Noblesse oblige," he said. And they never saw each other again. I dare say the seller of the Elixir and his descendants have been doing business in the same way ever since.
Now, the Lion journeyed for many months through the Kingdom without finding a trace of his family. He scanned carefully the entrance to every great palace and castle. He caused some confusion in traffic by dashing out to examine the crests emblazoned upon the panels of the chariots which passed him on the road. He even halted foot-passengers to inquire, courteously, if he might look more closely at certain devices upon chain or brooch or bangle which had caught his eye. Especially, he surprised with his attentions several persons who had sneezed violently in his presence. But in vain. He failed to find the clue he sought.
Folk would fain have helped him in his search; for his manners were gentle and gracious, and his bearing unmistakably noble. Folk liked him. Many would have been glad to prove themselves, through him, scions of that great family which he undoubtedly represented. But all their efforts to sneeze at the right time were fruitless. They went away crestfallen before his reproachful gaze. Sometimes, the Lion would spy a lovely face, or a manly figure, which appealed strangely to him. "Surely," he would say to himself, "surely, this noble-looking person is one of Them. Something seems to tell me so!" And he would assume his heraldic pose, with dexter paw lifted and eloquent tail curved high, waiting wistfully for the sneeze of recognition to follow. Sometimes, alas! came, instead, a laugh of scorn, or an unkind word. He learned that noble figures and lovely faces do not always adorn like natures.
Well, many months passed by. Footsore and weary, the Lion still traveled upon his quest. He felt very old and lonesome, homesick for his marble halls, hopeless of finding them. He came, one noon, to an inn on the outskirts of Derrydown Village. Over the door of the inn a signboard creaked and flapped in the wind. The Lion looked up. He beheld upon the sign the picture of a red lion! The traveler was greatly moved. "Surely," he thought, "this must be the arms of some great family in the neighborhood-perhaps my ancestral castle is hereabout!" But when he explained things to the Landlord, that worthy dashed his hopes once more. No family with such a device was known in those parts.
"However," said the Landlord, eyeing the Lion appraisingly, "I have an idea! If you will remain with me for some hours, I will show you something. The Prince and his train are to pass here on their way to the Ancient Wood, where they will hunt. In the company will be all the grandest nobles of the Kingdom. Surely, some of your family will be among them. Here is a splendid viewpoint! Do you remain beside my door in your grand attitude. You will see and be seen. If your folks are there, you will be sneezed at; which is what you want. It will be, beside, a grand advertisement for me-a real red lion guarding the Red Lion Inn!"
The Lion agreed. That night, when the Prince's cavalcade passed through Derrydown, huge and red, with lifted paw and curved tail, the beast stood at the door of the Red Lion Inn. Many stared in wonder. Many paused to inquire. Many entered and partook of the dainties which Mine Host had prepared against this very happening. The Prince himself paused, pointed, and asked a question. The Lion's heart leaped wildly! There was a curious expression on the Prince's face; it seemed drawn and twisted-was he about to sneeze? Alas! No. With a harsh laugh, the Prince gave the Lion a cut with his whip and bounded past; after him, the last of his followers. The Lion's skin smarted and his heart writhed. He kept his temper with difficulty; but-it was the Prince. Noblesse oblige.
When they were out of sight, his head drooped. There was no one in all that gallant company who belonged to him. But the Landlord had reaped a rich harvest from the Lion's presence. When once more the village was empty of nobility, he came to the Lion, rubbing his hands, contentedly. "Old fellow," he said, "I have had profit from you. Now, I will give you supper and a bed in my stable for the night. And why should we not make this arrangement permanent? You see, your folks are gone. The family has run out and no one any longer bears or recognizes the crest. You are an orphan; but you can still be of use to me. Why not become the supporter of my inn?"
"Gramercy!" quoth the Lion, with dignity. "I will accept the supper, for I am very hungry. But as for sleeping in the stable, that I cannot do! I prefer a bed on one of the fragrant haycocks in your meadow."
"To that you are welcome, if you please," said the Landlord graciously. "And, to-morrow, we will talk again of the other matter."
So the Lion had his supper, and then went wearily to sleep on a haycock in the thymy meadow. He was sad and disillusioned, and the Landlord's words had taken away his last hope. He began to wish that he had never come alive. "To-morrow," he said, "I will go back to the Old Curiosity Shop, and see if the old man can un-medicine me. For a crest without a family is even a more forlorn thing than a family without a crest!"
The Lion wakened with a start. "Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!" sounded in his ear. He sprang to his feet and looked around. Opposite him stood a little girl in a ragged gown, with a basket on her arm, staring at him with big, round eyes. She did not seem in the least afraid. The Lion was annoyed. He had been dreaming of his noble family, and it was very disappointing to be wakened by this beggar with her mocking "Ker-chew!"
"Away with you, child!" he said. "I am weary and peevish. Do you not know better than to awaken a sleeping lion?"
"Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!" The child sneezed again so violently that she nearly fell into the haycock.
The Lion was agitated. "What can this mean?" he thought. "It must be an accident which has caused her to sneeze at the word. I will try again." He began firmly, "When a lion-" But again he was interrupted by the violent sneezing of the little maid as soon as the word had passed his teeth.
The Lion shivered. Could this really be? Was it possible that this vagrant was an offshoot of the noble family which he had been seeking? If so, he must be in no hurry to claim relationship! The child put her hand into her basket, smiling.
"Good Lion," she said, "Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew! I like you. Will you have a bit of bread?" And she held out to him a fragment of her luncheon.
The Lion was touched. He did not like bread, but he could not refuse a child, and he ate it painfully. "What is your name?" he asked at length.
"Claribel," she answered.
"Your other name?" he persisted.
"Claribel," she repeated. "Just Claribel-that is all."
"Where do you live?" asked the Lion.
The child pointed over her shoulder. "Near the Ancient Wood, yonder," she said. "I came to Derrydown to the market. I have sold my dolls; now I am going home with the money."
"Dolls?" queried the Lion, interested in spite of himself. "You make dolls?"
Claribel nodded. "Rag dolls," she said. "My mother made dresses for the villagers. Now I make dolls out of the pieces in the old rag-bag. It buys me bread."
The Lion's heart was softened. "You are so little, Claribel!" he exclaimed. "Have you no one to take care of you?"
The child shook her head. "My mother is dead. I am alone in the world," she said.
"But have you no relatives-no one of noble kin in some palace, some castle?" the Lion cried eagerly.
The child laughed. "I know of no castles," she said; "no kindred at all. I never had any, I think."
The Lion gave a groan. "I will go back to the Curiosity Shop!" he said whimsically. "Good-bye, child!" He started away. But, turning for a last look, he saw Claribel, with her eyes full of tears.
"Do not go!" cried the child. "I like you so much, dear Lion-Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!"
The Lion's heart melted. "You are so little!" he said, "too little to be going on these roads alone. I will see you home." So they took the long road together, the child skipping happily beside the Lion, with her hand in his red mane. And the farther they walked together, the more the Lion liked Claribel, who sneezed whenever she spoke his name, but looked at him with kindly eyes.
They came at last to the hut where Claribel lived alone. It was a tiny cottage on the edge of the wood. The Lion looked at it long and hard. It was so different from the castle he had hoped to find! The child pulled him by the mane, and he went in. The hut was very poor, but spotlessly neat and clean.
Claribel led the Lion to the fireplace and began to blow meager sparks with the bellows. "I will keep you warm and give you bread to eat. You shall stay and live with me and be my dear big watch-dog!" she said.
The Lion sighed. But he could say nothing; he was so tender-hearted. "I will run away in the night," he promised himself. And then, on the mantel-stone above the tire, he spied a roughly-scratched shield. On the shield was the small figure of a lion passant, with dexter paw raised and curved tail. Below it was scrawled the motto, "Noblesse oblige."
Claribel saw him staring at it with big eyes, and began to laugh and sneeze. "Yes, my mother loved it," she said, "and I love it, though it always makes me sneeze just as you do. That was why I liked you from the beginning. Some day I shall learn what the words mean; then I shall be rich and happy."
The Lion did not run away that night. He slept with his nose on his paws beside the fire and dreamed grand dreams of castles and fair ladies; of gold-broidered banners on which he was emblazoned in crimson glory, and of the battle-cry, "Noblesse oblige!" echoing all about him.
But in the morning he was awakened, for the second time, by the sound of three soft little sneezes. "Excuse me!" said Claribel's dear little voice; "I tried not to, but I could not help it. I was so afraid you would not be here when I woke up. It might all have been a dream. But as soon as I saw you, I had to sneeze; – it is very odd!" She laughed and laughed, and the Lion roared in sympathy.
"I shall not go away," he said. "I want to be a real Supporter, not a heraldic one. I shall stay and try to help you learn the meaning of the motto over the fireplace."
"Oh, I am so happy!" cried Claribel, clapping her hands. "Already, I have thought of a way you can help me very much. I have always wanted to make a lion doll-Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew! But I never before had any lion-Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!-to copy, except that flat one over the fireplace. Now I can shape them after you and sell them in the market, and we shall grow rich, oh, so rich!"
And so it befell in the days that came thereafter. For Claribel's clever fingers snipped and pieced and seamed together the bits of cloth, until she had a lion so like her new friend that she almost sneezed her head off when he was finished. And, lo! She had invented a new kind of toy, which was speedily the rage over the whole kingdom.
In time, the making of lion-dolls became the great industry of Derrydown, whereof the people had much profit, especially Claribel, whose idea it was. And the folk of the town loved her dearly, because she had brought prosperity to them all. And they were devoted to the Lion, who went to and fro among them with gracious dignity, serving Claribel and serving them, so busy that he had no time to worry about escutcheons.
No family so poor but it had its little lion of carefully pieced rags, which it fondly prized; not merely because it was a quaint toy and indestructible, but because it was to them a token of their noble, friendly beast and of the motto which he had taught them. (But they had taught him many things, also.) And in latter days a crimson lion became the seal of the Guild of Toy-Makers in that shire. And a new tradition began to grow about the Lion Passant, concerned entirely with his service to the people.
So, in seeking Them, the Lion found himself. And he lived happy ever after.