CHAPTER II--_The Last Battle_
The day was cloudy when Wayne went down to die with all his army inKensington Gardens; it was cloudy again when that army had beenswallowed up by the vast armies of a new world. There had been analmost uncanny interval of sunshine, in which the Provost of NottingHill, with all the placidity of an onlooker, had gazed across to thehostile armies on the great spaces of verdure opposite; the longstrips of green and blue and gold lay across the park in squares andoblongs like a proposition in Euclid wrought in a rich embroidery. Butthe sunlight was a weak and, as it were, a wet sunlight, and was soonswallowed up. Wayne spoke to the King, with a queer sort of coldnessand languor, as to the military operations. It was as he had said thenight before--that being deprived of his sense of an impracticablerectitude, he was, in effect, being deprived of everything. He was outof date, and at sea in a mere world of compromise and competition, ofEmpire against Empire, of the tolerably right and the tolerably wrong.When his eye fell on the King, however, who was marching very gravelywith a top hat and a halberd, it brightened slightly.
"Well, your Majesty," he said, "you at least ought to be proud to-day.If your children are fighting each other, at least those who win areyour children. Other kings have distributed justice, you havedistributed life. Other kings have ruled a nation, you have creatednations. Others have made kingdoms, you have begotten them. Look atyour children, father!" and he stretched his hand out towards theenemy.
Auberon did not raise his eyes.
"See how splendidly," cried Wayne, "the new cities come on--the newcities from across the river. See where Battersea advances overthere--under the flag of the Lost Dog; and Putney--don't you see theMan on the White Boar shining on their standard as the sun catches it?It is the coming of a new age, your Majesty. Notting Hill is not acommon empire; it is a thing like Athens, the mother of a mode oflife, of a manner of living, which shall renew the youth of theworld--a thing like Nazareth. When I was young I remember, in the olddreary days, wiseacres used to write books about how trains would getfaster, and all the world be one empire, and tram-cars go to the moon.And even as a child I used to say to myself, 'Far more likely that weshall go on the crusades again, or worship the gods of the city.' Andso it has been. And I am glad, though this is my last battle."
Even as he spoke there came a crash of steel from the left, and heturned his head.
"Wilson!" he cried, with a kind of joy. "Red Wilson has charged ourleft. No one can hold him in; he eats swords. He is as keen a soldieras Turnbull, but less patient--less really great. Ha! and Barker ismoving. How Barker has improved; how handsome he looks! It is not allhaving plumes; it is also having a soul in one's daily life. Ha!"
And another crash of steel on the right showed that Barker had closedwith Notting Hill on the other side.
"Turnbull is there!" cried Wayne. "See him hurl them back! Barker ischecked! Turnbull charges--wins! But our left is broken. Wilson hassmashed Bowles and Mead, and may turn our flank. Forward, theProvost's Guard!"
And the whole centre moved forward, Wayne's face and hair and swordflaming in the van.
The King ran suddenly forward.
The next instant a great jar that went through it told that it had metthe enemy. And right over against them through the wood of their ownweapons Auberon saw the Purple Eagle of Buck of North Kensington.
On the left Red Wilson was storming the broken ranks, his little greenfigure conspicuous even in the tangle of men and weapons, with theflaming red moustaches and the crown of laurel. Bowles slashed at hishead and tore away some of the wreath, leaving the rest bloody, and,with a roar like a bull's, Wilson sprang at him, and, after a rattleof fencing, plunged his point into the chemist, who fell, crying,"Notting Hill!" Then the Notting Hillers wavered, and Bayswater sweptthem back in confusion. Wilson had carried everything before him.
On the right, however, Turnbull had carried the Red Lion banner with arush against Barker's men, and the banner of the Golden Birds bore upwith difficulty against it. Barker's men fell fast. In the centreWayne and Buck were engaged, stubborn and confused. So far as thefighting went, it was precisely equal. But the fighting was a farce.For behind the three small armies with which Wayne's small army wasengaged lay the great sea of the allied armies, which looked on as yetas scornful spectators, but could have broken all four armies bymoving a finger.
Suddenly they did move. Some of the front contingents, the pastoralchiefs from Shepherd's Bush, with their spears and fleeces, were seenadvancing, and the rude clans from Paddington Green. They wereadvancing for a very good reason. Buck, of North Kensington, wassignalling wildly; he was surrounded, and totally cut off. Hisregiments were a struggling mass of people, islanded in a red sea ofNotting Hill.
The allies had been too careless and confident. They had allowedBarker's force to be broken to pieces by Turnbull, and the moment thatwas done, the astute old leader of Notting Hill swung his men roundand attacked Buck behind and on both sides. At the same moment Waynecried, "Charge!" and struck him in front like a thunderbolt.
Two-thirds of Buck's men were cut to pieces before their allies couldreach them. Then the sea of cities came on with their banners likebreakers, and swallowed Notting Hill for ever. The battle was notover, for not one of Wayne's men would surrender, and it lasted tillsundown, and long after. But it was decided; the story of Notting Hillwas ended.
When Turnbull saw it, he ceased a moment from fighting, and lookedround him. The evening sunlight struck his face; it looked like achild's.
"I have had my youth," he said. Then, snatching an axe from a man, hedashed into the thick of the spears of Shepherd's Bush, and diedsomewhere far in the depths of their reeling ranks. Then the battleroared on; every man of Notting Hill was slain before night.
Wayne was standing by a tree alone after the battle. Several menapproached him with axes. One struck at him. His foot seemed partly toslip; but he flung his hand out, and steadied himself against thetree.
Barker sprang after him, sword in hand, and shaking with excitement.
"How large now, my lord," he cried, "is the Empire of Notting Hill?"
Wayne smiled in the gathering dark.
"Always as large as this," he said, and swept his sword round in asemicircle of silver.
Barker dropped, wounded in the neck; and Wilson sprang over his bodylike a tiger-cat, rushing at Wayne. At the same moment there camebehind the Lord of the Red Lion a cry and a flare of yellow, and amass of the West Kensington halberdiers ploughed up the slope,knee-deep in grass, bearing the yellow banner of the city before them,and shouting aloud.
At the same second Wilson went down under Wayne's sword, seeminglysmashed like a fly. The great sword rose again like a bird, but Wilsonseemed to rise with it, and, his sword being broken, sprang at Wayne'sthroat like a dog. The foremost of the yellow halberdiers had reachedthe tree and swung his axe above the struggling Wayne. With a cursethe King whirled up his own halberd, and dashed the blade in the man'sface. He reeled and rolled down the slope, just as the furious Wilsonwas flung on his back again. And again he was on his feet, and againat Wayne's throat. Then he was flung again, but this time laughingtriumphantly. Grasped in his hand was the red and yellow favour thatWayne wore as Provost of Notting Hill. He had torn it from the placewhere it had been carried for twenty-five years.
With a shout the West Kensington men closed round Wayne, the greatyellow banner flapping over his head.
"Where is your favour now, Provost?" cried the West Kensington leader.
And a laugh went up.
Adam struck at the standard-bearer and brought him reeling forward. Asthe banner stooped, he grasped the yellow folds and tore off a shred.A halberdier struck him on the shoulder, wounding bloodily.
"Here is one colour!" he cried, pushing the yellow into his belt; "andhere!" he cried, pointing to his own blood--"here is the other."
At the same instant the shock of a sudden and heavy halberd laid theKing stunned or dead. In the wild visions of vanishing
consciousness,he saw again something that belonged to an utterly forgotten time,something that he had seen somewhere long ago in a restaurant. He saw,with his swimming eyes, red and yellow, the colours of Nicaragua.
Quin did not see the end. Wilson, wild with joy, sprang again at AdamWayne, and the great sword of Notting Hill was whirled above oncemore. Then men ducked instinctively at the rushing noise of the swordcoming down out of the sky, and Wilson of Bayswater was smashed andwiped down upon the floor like a fly. Nothing was left of him but awreck; but the blade that had broken him was broken. In dying he hadsnapped the great sword and the spell of it; the sword of Wayne wasbroken at the hilt. One rush of the enemy carried Wayne by forceagainst the tree. They were too close to use halberd or even sword;they were breast to breast, even nostrils to nostrils. But Buck gothis dagger free.
"Kill him!" he cried, in a strange stifled voice. "Kill him! Good orbad, he is none of us! Do not be blinded by the face!... God! have wenot been blinded all along!" and he drew his arm back for a stab, andseemed to close his eyes.
Wayne did not drop the hand that hung on to the tree-branch. But amighty heave went over his breast and his whole huge figure, like anearthquake over great hills. And with that convulsion of effort herent the branch out of the tree, with tongues of torn wood; and,swaying it once only, he let the splintered club fall on Buck,breaking his neck. The planner of the Great Road fell face foremostdead, with his dagger in a grip of steel.
"For you and me, and for all brave men, my brother," said Wayne, inhis strange chant, "there is good wine poured in the inn at the end ofthe world."
The packed men made another lurch or heave towards him; it was almosttoo dark to fight clearly. He caught hold of the oak again, this timegetting his hand into a wide crevice and grasping, as it were, thebowels of the tree. The whole crowd, numbering some thirty men, made arush to tear him away from it; they hung on with all their weight andnumbers, and nothing stirred. A solitude could not have been stillerthan that group of straining men. Then there was a faint sound.
"His hand is slipping," cried two men in exultation.
"You don't know much of him," said another, grimly (a man of the oldwar). "More likely his bone cracks."
"It is neither--by God, it is neither!" said one of the first two.
"What is it, then?" asked the second.
"The tree is falling," he replied.
"As the tree falleth, so shall it lie," said Wayne's voice out of thedarkness, and it had the same sweet and yet horrible air that it hadhad throughout, of coming from a great distance, from before or afterthe event. Even when he was struggling like an eel or battering like amadman, he spoke like a spectator. "As the tree falleth, so shall itlie," he said. "Men have called that a gloomy text. It is the essenceof all exultation. I am doing now what I have done all my life, whatis the only happiness, what is the only universality. I am clinging tosomething. Let it fall, and there let it lie. Fools, you go about andsee the kingdoms of the earth, and are liberal and wise andcosmopolitan, which is all that the devil can give you--all that hecould offer to Christ, only to be spurned away. I am doing what thetruly wise do. When a child goes out into the garden and takes hold ofa tree, saying, 'Let this tree be all I have,' that moment its rootstake hold on hell and its branches on the stars. The joy I have iswhat the lover knows when a woman is everything. It is what a savageknows when his idol is everything. It is what I know when Notting Hillis everything. I have a city. Let it stand or fall."
As he spoke, the turf lifted itself like a living thing, and out of itrose slowly, like crested serpents, the roots of the oak. Then thegreat head of the tree, that seemed a green cloud among grey ones,swept the sky suddenly like a broom, and the whole tree heeled overlike a ship, smashing every one in its fall.