The Red Axe

  CHAPTER XX

  THE EARTH-DWELLERS OF NO MAN'S LAND

  Then presently we came to a strange place, the like of which I have neverseen, save here on the borders of the Mark and the northern Wendishlands. An amalgam of lime, or binding stuff of some sort, had glued theclay of the ravines together, and set it stiff and fast like driedplaster. So, as we went up the narrow, perilous path, our horses had totread very warily lest, going too near the edge, they should chip offenough of the foothold to send themselves and their riders whirlingneck-over-toes to the bottom.

  All at once the Little Playmate, who was riding immediately before me,screamed out sharp and shrill, and I hastened up to her, thinking she hadfallen upon a misfortune. I found her palfrey with ears pricked anddistended nostril, gazing at a head in a red nightcap which was set outof a hole in the red clay.

  "The country of gnomes! Of a surety, yes! And hitherto I had thought ithad been but the nonsense of folk-tales!" said I to myself.

  Which is what we shall say one day of more things thanred-nightcapped heads.

  But the Little Playmate uttered scream after scream, for the headcontinued coolly to stare at her, as if fixed alive over the gateway bythe craft of some cave-dwelling imp of the Red Axe.

  I noticed, however, that the head chewed a straw and spat, which Ideemed a gnome would not do--though wherefore straws and spitting arenot free to gnomes I do not know and could not have told. Yet, at allevents, such was my belief. And a serviceable one enough it was, sinceit took the fear out of me and gave me back my speech. And when a mancan speak he can fight. Contrariwise, it is when a woman will not fightthat she can talk best, as one may see in any congress of two angryvixens. So long as they rail there is but threatening and saferecriminations, but when one waxes silent, then 'ware nails and teeth!And I am _not_ in my dotage to use such illustrations--as notunnaturally sayeth the first to read my history.

  "Good man," cried I, to Sir Red Cap in the wall, "I know not why youstick your ugly head out of the mud, but retract it, I pray you! For doyou not see that it alarms the lady and affrights her beast?"

  The man nodded intelligently, but went on coolly chewing his straw.

  Then I went up to him, and, as civilly as I could, took him by the chinand thrust his head back into the hole. And as I did so I saw for thefirst time that the wall of the clay cliff, tough and gritty with itsalloy of lime, had been cut and hewn into houses and huts having doors ofwood of exactly the same color, and in some cases even windows withbars--very marvellous to see, and such as I have never witnessedelsewhere. Presently, at the trampling of the feet of so many horses,people began to throng to their doors, and children peered out at windowsand cried to each other shrilly: "See the Christians!"

  For so, being but lately pagans themselves, if not partly so to thisday, these outlandish men of the border No Man's Land denominated us ofthe south.

  Presently we came to an open space sloping away from the sheer cliff,where was a wall and a door greater than the others.

  Jorian rode directly up to the gate, which was of the same dullbrick-red as the rest of the curious town. He took the butt of his lanceand thumped and banged lustily upon it. For a time there was no reply,but the number of heads thrust out at neighboring windows and the swarmsof townsfolk on the pathways before and behind us enormously increased.

  Jorian thundered again, kicking with his foot and swearing explosively inmingled Wendish and German. Then he took the point of his spear, and,setting it to a hole in the wall above his head, he hooked out an entirewooden window-frame, as one is taught to pull out a shrimp with a pin onthe shore of the Baltic Sea.

  Whereupon a sudden outcry arose within the house, and a head poppedangrily out of the aperture so suddenly created. But as instantly itreturned within. For Jorian tossed the lattice to the ground by the doorand thrust his spear-head into the cravat of red which the man had abouthis throat, shouting to him all the while in the name of the Prince, ofthe Duke, of the Emperor, of the Archbishop, of all potentates, lay andsecular, to come down and open the gates. The man in the red cravat wasthreatened with the strappado, with the water-torture, with thebrodequins, and finally with the devil's cannon--which, according to ourman-at-arms, was to be planted on the opposite bank of the ravine, andwhich would infallibly bring the whole of their wretched town tumblingdown into the gulf like swallows' nests from under the eaves.

  And this last threat seemed to have more weight than all the rest,probably because the Prince of Plassenburg had already done something ofthe kind to some other similar town, and the earth-burrowers of Erdborghad good reason to fear the thunder of his artillery.

  At all events, the great door opened, and a man of the same brick-red asall the other inhabitants of the town appeared at the portal. He bowedprofoundly, and Jorian addressed him in some outlandishly compoundedspeech, of which I could only understand certain oft-recurring words, as"lodging," "victualling," and "order of the Prince."

  So, presently, after a long, and on the side of our escort a stormy,conference, we were permitted to enter. Our horses were secured at thegreat mangers, which extended all along one side; while, opposite to thehorses, but similar to their accommodation in every respect, were stallswherein various families seemed to be encamped for the night.

  With all the air of a special favor conferred, we were informed that wemust take up our quarters in the middle of the room and make the best ofthe hardened floor there. This information, conveyed with a polite waveof the hand and a shrug of the shoulders by our landlord, seemed notunnaturally to put Jorian and Boris into a furious passion, for they drewtheir swords, and with a unanimous sweep of the hand cleared the capes oftheir leathern jacks for fighting. So, not to be outdone, I drew myweapon also, and stood by to protect Helene and the Lady Ysolinde.

  These two stood close together behind us, but continued to talkindifferently, chiefly of dress and jewels--which surprised me, both inthe strange circumstances, and because I knew that Helene had seen nomore of them than the valueless trinkets that had belonged to my mother,and which abode in a green-lined box in the Red Tower. Yet to speak ofsuch things seems to come naturally to all women.

  As if they had mutually arranged it "from all eternity," as the clerkssay, Jorian and Boris took, without hesitation, each a door on theopposite wall, and, setting their shoulders to them, they pushed themopen, and went within sword in hand, leaving me alone to protect theladies and to provide for the safety of the horses.

  Presently out from the doors by which our conductors had entered therecame tumbling a crowd of men and women, some carrying straw bolsters andwisps of hay, others bearing cooking utensils, and all in various_dishabille._ Then ensued a great buzzing and stirring, much angrygrowling on the part of the disturbed men, and shrill calling of womenfor their errant children.

  Our little Helene looked sufficiently pitiful and disturbed as thesepreparations were being made. But the Lady Ysolinde scarcely noticedthem, taking apparently all the riot and delay as so much testimony tothe important quality of such great ones of the earth as could afford totravel under the escort of two valiant men-at-arms.

  Presently came Jorian and Boris out at a third door, having met somewherein the back parts of the warren.

  They came up to the Lady Ysolinde and bowed humbly.

  "Will your ladyship deign to choose her chamber? They are all empty.Thereafter we shall see that proper furniture, such as the place affords,is provided for your Highness."

  I could not but wonder at so much dignity expended upon the daughter ofMaster Gerard, the lawyer of Thorn. But Ysolinde took their reverence asa matter of course. She did not even speak, but only lifted her righthand with a little casual flirt of the fingers, which said, "Lead on!"

  Then Jorian marshalled us within, Boris standing at the door to let uspass, and bringing his sword-blade with a little click of salute to theperpendicular as each of us passed. But I chanced to meet his eye as Iwent within, whereat the rogue deliberately winked, and I could pla
inlysee his shoulders heave. I knew that he was still chewing the cud of hisstale and ancient jest: "The Prince hath a Princess, and she--"

  I could have disembowelled the villain. But, after all, he wascertainly doing us some service, though in a most provocative andhigh-handed manner.