Kitabı oku: «The Flute of the Gods», sayfa 8
The rush of the swift water was always near as he went on and on in the darkness. It had a lulling effect. The whispers of the pines also spoke of rest. This was the fourth day of the fasting. He, Tahn-té, had been strong as few men are strong, but suddenly in the night, earth and sky seemed to meet, and putting out his hands he groped through a thicket of the young pines, and fell there quite close to the dancing water–and all the life of earth drifted far. He, Tahn-té, the devotee of the Trues–the weaver of spells, and dancer of the Ancient Dance to the God of the Stone, lay at last in the stupor beyond dreams, helpless in the path of an enemy if any should trail him for battle.
His sleep was dreamless, and the length of it until the dawn seemed but a hand’s breadth on the path of the stars across the sky.
But with the dawn a vision came, and he knew it again as the actual form of that which had been so often the vague dream-maid of charméd moments.
There was the flash of water in the pool–a something distinct from the steady murmur of its ripples–that was the sign by which he was wakened quite suddenly, without movement or even a breath that was loud. Under the little pines at the very edge of the stream he was veiled in still green shadows, and there before him was The Maid of Dreams. Those Above had let her come to him that for once his eyes should see and his heart keep her in the medicine visions of this fasting time of prayer.
Not once did she turn her eyes towards him as she stood, dripping with the water of the bath. Her slender figure was in shadow, and her movements were shy and alert and quick.
To the dry sand she stepped, and lifted thence a white deerskin robe. Two bluebird wings were in the white banda about her loosened hair, very blue was the color of the wings as the light touched them, and he thought of the wonderful Navahu Goddess Estsan-atlehi who was created from an earth jewel–the turquoise, and who is the belovéd of the Sun. If a maid could be moulded from any jewel of earth, Tahn-té thought she would look like this spirit of the forest stream. Even while held by the wonder and the beauty of the vision, he thought of this, and recalled the bluebird feathers in the prayer plumes of Tusayan:–next to the eagle they were sacred feathers:–the gods were sending him strong thoughts for magic!
Suddenly the maid stood tense and erect as though listening–or was it only the nearness of a mortal by which she was thrilled to movement?–for she clasped the trailing white skin to her breast, and stepped into the deeper shadow where grew the fragrant thickets of the young pine under the arms of the great pine mothers.
Without sound she moved. His eyes watched in strained eagerness for the one turn of the head, or one look of the eyes towards him, but that was not to be. To mortal all the joys cannot be given at one time–else all would be as gods!
He stared at the shadows into which she had blended herself, and he stared at the pool from which she had arisen. It was again a mirror reflecting only the coming day. Yet his heart leaped as he saw a sign left there for him!
Drifting idly there in a circle was a bit of blue too vivid for the echo of the sky of dawn–it was the wing of a bluebird, and even as he looked, it was caught in an eddy more swift, and moved on the surface of the water straight to the edge of the bank nearest his place of rest.
Staggering to his feet, he went to meet it. It was not an empty vision as the maid had been, and it did not fade as he grasped it. The visions of the night had been strong visions, but with the dawn had come to Tahn-té the added medicine of the second gift of the Spirits of the Air. Above the clouds must his thoughts be in their height. The medicine of the eagle had made that plain to him, and the feathers of prayer lay in his hand as a sign such as had come to no other man!
The Brothers of the Air were plainly to be his kindred!
This was the dawning of the fifth day on the prayer trail. A little way he walked, and the world reeled about him,–to escape from the cloud of weakness he ran the way of the brook towards the far river–and then as a brook falls into the shadows of a cavern place, Tahn-té fell and lay where he fell. In the darkness closing over him he heard the rustle of wings–though another might have heard only the whisper of the pines.
When the sun stood straight above, and the bush of the sage brooded over its own shadow, it was then Po-tzah and the brothers of Po-tzah found him. They wondered at the wing of the bluebird in his hand, but carried him on a robe of the buffalo until they brought him to his own home. Then the people of his order brought to him the foods and the drinks allowed after the fasting time to the men who make many prayers.
When the strength had come back he spoke in secret council of the vision of the eagle and the vision of the maid born from the waters of the sacred mountain of prayer.
The old men debated wisely as to the visions and the meaning of the visions. The dance was a great dance and plainly had the favor of Sinde-hési since Tahn-té had come out of it alive;–the Summer People would hold a long feast to mark the time, and the boys who were taught by the old men, would be told in the kivas of the ways in which a man might grow strong in body and strong in spirit to face the god who lives on high in the hills.
Of the visions of the eagles they were glad–for in his dream Tahn-té had been carried by the eagle to the shrine of power, and that was very great medicine. It was well he had kept strength to follow the trail and meet the eagle there.
Of the maid-vision there was long talk. To dream of a maid was the natural dream thought of a young man, and the wing of the bird could be only the symbol for thoughts that fly very high.
The clan of his mother–the Arrow Stone People, thought the vision by the pool meant that the time to choose a wife had come to Tahn-té. He had proven himself for magic. It was now time that he think of strong sons.
The elders agreed that it was so, and talked of likely maids, and that was when the name of Yahn the Beautiful was spoken. But Tahn-té heard part of the talk, and stopped it. He had read the books of the white god, and out of them all he had found one strong thought. The white god, and the prophets of that god, were strong for magic because they did not take wives of the tribes about them. Because of that they had been strong to conquer their world. He, Tahn-té, meant to work for the red gods as the priests of the dark robe worked for the white gods. He would work alone unless other men worked with him. It was not magic in which a woman could help. But alone he fastened four feathers of a bluebird to the Prayer Flute of the far desert, and in the dusks under Venus and the young moon he breathed through it softly to bring back the vision of the Maid of Dreams.
Not all this talk was spoken of outside the kiva:–only the name of Yahn had been said–and that Tahn-té would have no wife even when urged by the old men. But Koh-pé, the wife of Ka-yemo did hear of it–also some other wives, and Yahn Tsyn-deh heard their laughter, and carried a bitter heart in the days to follow. She had no love for Tahn-té, yet–to wed with the Highest–would be victory over a false lover!
For the feast made for Tahn-té the Po-Ahtun-ho, she would gather no flowers and bake no bread, and when the dance in honor of Tahn-té was danced, she put on her dress of a savage, brown deer skin fringed and trimmed with tails of the ermine of the north. About her brows she fastened a band on which were white shells and many beads in the pattern of the lightening path–and on it was also the white of the ermine–and the warrior feathers of the eagle which she wore not often–but this day she wore them!
Also she took from an earthen jar the strands of beads of the Navahu. With head held high she walked through the village and knew well that she looked finer than all the dancers. Thus proudly she walked to the sands by the river’s edge, and held the beads against her brow and bosom–and twisted them about her round arms as she gazed at her reflection in the water. But the pride and the defiance died out of her face when there were no jealous eyes to watch, and a tear fell on the still water, breaking the picture.
For a space she stood–a lonely figure despite her trophies–and the music of the dance came to her on the wind, and filled her with sullen rage. A canoe was on the shore above; she pushed it into the water and stepped in lifting the paddle of split ash wood and sending the craft darting downwards–anywhere to be away from the voices of people.
And Koh-pé, of the red beads, laughed at a safe distance, and told her comrades of the terraces that the Apache had gone fishing without a net–she would come home empty!
CHAPTER XII
COMING OF THE CASTILIANS
Because a runner from Kat-yi-ti had been killed on the trail by a mountain lion, and because the village of Povi-whah had forgotten the strangers from the south in the excitement of Tahn-té’s return (for many there were who thought never to see him again!)–because of these things it was that the men of iron rode unseen by the river, and the alarm was called from sentry to sentry on the mesa where the workers in flint shaped the arrow-points, and were guards as well for the village below.
There was no mistaking the glint of sunlight on steel and helmet, and the beasts with strange strappings. The men of the beards were indeed at the very edge of their planted fields!
And they saw more than that, for they saw a girl who ran from the shore to meet them. So fleet was her running that her hair swept like a dusk cloud behind her, and the soldier Gonzalvo stared at her with open mouth.
“By the true cross, that looks better to me than the thimble full of gold!” he announced, and Don Ruy laughed and put his horse on the other side of Don Diego as though to protect him from temptation.
“You, and his reverence the padre, have the records and the prayers to your share,” he suggested,–“but eyes bright as those–and lips as tempting–”
“The heathen wench does look like the seven deadly sins for enticement,” agreed Don Diego and made the sign of the cross.
“A shameless wench, indeed,” agreed Padre Vicente–“with her bosom bare, and little but her hair as a cloak!–What is it she calls?–Holy God!–did you hear?”
All had halted now. Pretty women and girls had been hidden in the villages of their trail. Even if they chanced to glimpse one it was by chance–and among the wall-housed barbarians no dames bold as this one had been seen:–neither had one been seen so alluring.
Again her voice reached them and this time the tones were clear and the words certain.
“Greetings to you–Lords–Castilians!”
A shout went up from the men. At last a land had been reached where an interpreter was not needed for the woman. It put a different complexion on the day. Tired men straightened in their saddles and Ruy Sandoval laughed at the amaze on the face of Gonzalvo–that hardy soldier of many lands stared as if by a witch enthralled.
“How call you yourself, mistress?” inquired the priest coldly, “and is it the custom of the men of the P[=o] – s[=o]n-gé to send their wives to greet men who travel?”
“Yahn Tsyn-deh I am,”–she said–“and not wife.”
“Humph!” the grunt of Maestro Diego was not polite. Even the desert might not be a safe place to bring youth if damsels of this like grew in the sage clumps. “It is said to be a good luck sign when a man comes first over the threshold on a New Year’s day and on a Monday,–it starts the year and the week aright–and how read you this of a female crossing first for us the line of welcome in the new land of treasure?–read you good fortune here in all that would be ill fortune at home?”
“Save your croaking since she is beautiful to a marvel!” said Don Ruy lightly. “If they tell us truly that the world is round, who knows that we may not be nicely balanced on an opposite to Seville, and all things of life and portent to be reversed? There’s a thought for your ‘Relaciones!’–treasure it, señor!–treasure it!
“I am not yet of a mind that the unsanctified globe theory is to be accepted by true believers!” announced Don Diego with decision–“that you well know!–and also you know that my scriptural evidence–”
“Is as good as that of any man!” agreed his charge who was more his master and tormentor. “But if we halt here while you make the maps of Cosmo in the sand, we will miss the rest of the maids, for all my looking shows me no others on the run to us.”
Yahn was, meanwhile, with great unconcern, making braids of her hair, and breathing with more ease, and using her eyes well the while. The piercing look of the padre was the only one she faltered under, and that of Gonzalvo she met in elusive coquetry.
“I am alone,” she said to Don Ruy. “The others feast this day. I know your words. I come alone; maybe you want that I talk for you.”
“It is true that we all want much talk from you–and perhaps some smiles–eh? But give not another to Juan Gonzalvo–he looks like a mooing calf from the last one he got,–and I warn you that such special happiness–”
“Peace!” said the padre with impatient authority. “The girl has understanding, and it is best to move warily when the ground is new. Are you the only one who speaks Castilian?”
“No–two more. Ka-yemo the chief of war–He is of my clan. He learn it with Capitan Coronado.”
The men closed around listening–this was the man they had heard of at Ah-ko and at Kat-yi-ti.
“He is the shaman who learned with Fray Luis,” said the padre. “We have heard of him, and of his unsanctified devotion to the false gods. We have come to save such souls for the true faith. And he is now Capitan–eh?”
“Ka-yemo is Capitan–not shaman. He speaks your words–”
“And the other one?”
“Other one!”–The face of Yahn darkened, her lips grew straight in a hard line–her bosom heaved. Tahn-té had seen and known her abasement–also her name had been among those put aside–always she would hate Tahn-té,–“The other one is the man of the feast. He has danced where other men fall dead in the dance. He does not fall dead–not anything makes him dead! He holds snakes like other men hold rabbits.” (She was watching warily the faces of her listeners and saw them shrink in distaste)–her own face grew keen and bright with cunning. “It is true–like this he takes the snake”–she held a wand of willow about her neck, and then held it in both hands above her head–“like this–and calls it ‘brother of the sands.’ He calls eagles down from the clouds to him–other birds, too”–and her eyes took on a look of fear–“and in dark nights–no–I can not say more words! It is bad medicine to say words of witches while witches are yet alive.”
“He was taught by the padres to be Christian:–yet turns back to the false gods, and–is a sorcerer?” demanded Maestro Diego. “You have your work plainly cut out for you, Eminence!” and he turned to Padre Vicente–“A leader who has been granted the light, yet seeks darkness, is but a burning brand for the pit!”
“But”–suggested the lad Chico–who spoke but rarely in the face of the company, “is there not white magic as well as the magic of the darkness? Did not the saints of the church deal openly in the white magic of their god? This pretty woman plainly has only hate–or fear–of the sorcerer. Does the dame strike any of you as being so saintly as to be above guile?”
The men laughed at that, and Don Ruy clapped him on the shoulder.
“Well reasoned, Chico–and frankly said! We will see the sorcerer at his work before we pass judgement. But the lady will love you little!”
“The less ill luck to me for that!”–retorted the lad. “Her eyes are all for Juan Gonzalvo–and for your Excellency!”
“I am sworn for my soul’s sake to the troth of a silken scarf and a mad woman somewhere in Mexico,” decided Don Ruy whimsically. “If I am to live a celibate,–as our good padre imposes, it is well to cheat myself with a lady love across the border,–even though she gave me no favors beyond a poet’s verse and a battered head.”
“A lady–beat you?” queried Chico in amazement looking at the strong figure of Don Ruy–“and though mad, you give to her–faithfulness?”
“A faithfulness enforced, lad!” and his patron chuckled at the amaze in the eyes of the youth. “Since this crusade allows us no dames for company it is an ill one among us cannot cheat himself into the thought that a gracious doña awaits his return! It is the only protection against such sirens as this one of the loosened braids. To be sure, my goddess of Mexico–(so says the padre)–was only a mad woman–and her servants gave me a scratched skull. Yet, as I am weak and need protection, I carry the scarf of the wench, and call her a goddess and my ‘Doña Bradamante’–in my dreams–that does no harm to any one, and enables me to leave the ladies of the road to Gonzalvo–and the others! Oh–a dream woman is a great rest to the mind, lad,–especially is she so when she affects a wondrous perfume for her silks!”
He drew the scarf from his pocket and sniffed at it, content to make the lad laugh at the idle fancy, and while he jested thus, Padre Vicente and Gonzalvo gathered much information from Yahn Tsyn-deh. There was a feast, she told them, and all the village was merry, and the time of the visit was a good time.
From the terraces of Kah-po and Povi-whah many eyes watched the coming of the men of iron. But the women who watched were few,–all the maids and even the young wives, had started at once for the sanctuary of the ancient dwellings of the place of Old Fields. There the Woman of the Twilight was awaiting them–much corn and dried meat and beans had been stored there in the hills in waiting for this time. If fighting was to be done, it should not be a quarrel for wives–as had happened with Coronado’s soldiers in Tiguex.
But the white adventurers gave every evidence of the desire to be modest in their demands. They did not even enter the village–nor seek to do so until the place of the camp had been decided upon. Even José was not allowed to precede the others in search of kindred. He and his wife Ysobel watched the terraces, and the courage of the latter grew weak unto tears at the trials possibly behind the silent walls.
The boy Chico reassured her with jestings and occasional whisperings until the woman smiled, though her eyes were wet.
“I shall risk my own precious soul and body beside you,” he stated,–“since my master Don Diego makes me a proxy while we learn if it is safe enough inside those walls for his own sacred bones. He will say the prayers for us until our faces are shown to him again!”
Then he threw himself on the green sward and laughed, and told Ysobel what a fine thing it was to be carefree of a spouse and able to kick up one’s heels:–“If it had not been for love and a wedding day you would be happily planting beans in the garden of the nuns instead of following a foreign husband to his own people!”
Don Ruy sauntered near enough to hear the fillip and see the woman dry her eyes.
“Why is it, Dame Ysobel, that you allow this lad to make sport of serious things?” he asked austerely. “He is woefully light minded for so portentous an expedition.”
Ysobel stammered, and glanced at the lad, and dug her toe in the soil, and was dumb.
“You overwhelm her with your high and mighty notice, Excellency,” said the lad coming to her aid. “I will tell you truly–Ysobel has had patience with me since I had the height of your knee–and it is now a custom with her. She lived once in the house of my–relatives. We were both younger–and she had no dreams of wedding a wild Indian–nor I of seeking adventure among savages. She is afraid now that her husband may be blamed–or sacrificed for bringing strangers here–the story of the padre at the well of Ah-ko is not forgotten by her.”
Whereupon Don Ruy told her there should be no harm to José–if he was treated without welcome by the Te-huas he should go back in safety to Mexico to follow his own will in freedom.
The woman murmured thanks and was content, and his excellency surveyed the secretary in silence a bit, until warm color crept into the face of the boy to his own confusion.
“So!–Your independence was because you had a friend at court?”–he observed. “It is fool luck that you, with your girl’s mouth, and velvet cheeks, should get nearest the only woman in camp–and have a secret with her! It is high time you went to confession!”
Upon which he walked away, and left the two together, and Chico lay on the grass and laughed until called to make records of all that might occur between visiting Castilian and the Children of the Sun in their terraced village.
Then, while the men set about the preparations for a resting place, and supper Padre Vicente, with Don Ruy, Chico, Gonzalvo and the two Indians walked quietly to the gate in the great wall.
Many eyes were watching them as they were well aware, and ere they reached the gate, it opened, and the old governor Phen-tza, the war capitan and several of the older men stood there with courteous greeting of hand clasps and invitation.
For the first time since his marriage, Ka-yemo came face to face with Yahn Tsyn-deh, and quick anger flamed in his eyes as he saw her walk close to the side of Juan Gonzalvo who whispered to her–and her answer was a smile from provocative, half closed eyes.
“Yahn!”–the voice of Ka-yemo was not loud, but hard and full of angry meaning. “The other women of your clan have gone to the hills!”
“Let them go,” said the girl insolently–“I do not go! For these strangers I make the talks to the old men, I am the one woman needful in the valley of P[=o] – s[=o]n-gé!”
It was the hour of her triumph, and Padre Vicente looked at the two keenly. Here was a clash of two savage minds–potent for good or ill.
“To the council I will talk–I am of the people of your father–I am the nearest man–I tell you I forbid you!”
His words fell over each other in anger, and his uncle, the governor, looked at him in reproach–this was not a moment for private quarrel.
“Are you so!–the nearest?” and Yahn showed her teeth. “I do not see it so. I stand near two other men, and am well content!”
She stood between Gonzalvo and Chico, and smiled on the latter, who frankly smiled a response–at that moment Yahn was happy in her defiance. Ka-yemo need not think her forsaken! She had caught fish without a net! To the governor José was speaking; at once there were signs of delight among the listeners. One of the old men was of his clan–other of his people were alive–and all had thought never to look on him again, it was a good day at Povi-whah!
José showed them his wife, who was greeted with joy, and all proceeded to the court of the village, where, at the house of the governor, they were given cooked corn of the feast, then rolls of bread, and stew of deer meat.
José told of his days as a slave until he was traded into the land of Padre Vicente, and of the great desire of Padre Vicente to bring him back in some lucky year to his people, and also to see with his own eyes the fine land of the Te-huas. He added also that the padre had been very kind, and that he was near to the white god of the men of iron, and strong in medicine of the spirit world.
“We already know that the medicine of the men of iron is strong medicine–and that their gods listen,” said the governor.
“Also Tahn-té the Po-Ahtun-ho makes it seen that the mountain god of this land, and the young god of the Castilian land, were maybe brothers,”–said Po-tzah watching closely the faces of the strangers. “Only your god made talking leaves–and our god gave us only the sunshine to see things for ourselves.”
“Where is this man who tells you that books are made and that false gods are brothers to the true?” inquired Padre Vicente.
“It is the Po-Ahtun-ho,” said José before Yahn could speak. “In Castilian he would be called Cacique. The word in Maya for that ruler is the same word as in Te-hua. It is a very old word. It is the head of the highest order of the Spirit Things. It is what you call maybe Pope. There are many priests, and many medicine men in each village. There is only one Cacique at one time.”
“Which of these men may it be?” inquired Padre Vicente. Yahn it was who answered.
“The Cacique of Povi-whah is not seen by every stranger who walks by the river,” she said, and smiled scornfully. “He has come out of the mountain from the dance to the greatest of gods, and after that dance it is not easy to talk to earth people!”
“But–when people come from the far lands of a strange king–”
“That is the business of the governor and of the war capitan,” stated Yahn. “He who is named Cacique in this land has not to do with strangers in the valley. His mind is with the Spirit Things. These are the heads of the village of Povi-whah–here also is the governor of Kah-po. They will listen, and learn from your words, and answer you.”
“I know words,” stated Ka-yemo looking at Don Ruy and the priest. “I can say words–I teach it her,”–and he motioned to Yahn, who had dwarfed them all with quick wit and glib speech. “Woman not need in council. I–captain of war can make talk.”
“Is not the damsel enlisted as official interpreter for one of us?” queried Don Ruy. “I hold it best that the bond be understood lest the beauty be sent beyond reach–and some of our best men squander time on her trail! Since you, good father, have José,–I will lay claim to this Cleopatra who calls herself by another name,–a fire brand should be kept within vision. Your pardon, Eminence–and you to the head of the council in all else!”
The padre directed his conversation to Ka-yemo, while the secretary set down the claiming of Yahn as the first official act in council of His Excellency Don Ruy de Sandoval.
At the scratching of the quill, his excellency looked over the shoulder of the lad, and read the words, and smiled with his eyes, while his lips muttered dire threats–even to discharging him from office if the records were kept in a manner detrimental.
“Detrimental to whom, my lord?” asked the lad, who saw well the restrained smile. “Your ‘Doña Bradamante’ of the scarf is not to set eyes on these serious pages,–and the Don Diego will certainly exact that I keep record of how near our company falls in the wake of the Capitan Coronado’s–their troubles began about a wife–thus it is well to keep count of fair favorites–and this one who tells you plainly she is no wife, looks promising. Helena of Trois might have had no more charms to her discredit!”
Don Ruy said no more, for he saw that Yahn was straining her ears to catch at their meaning, and they were all losing the words of council. It appeared plain that all the chief men were quite willing that the Po-Ahtun-ho should meet the men of iron as was the padre’s wish–but that no one could command it.
“Through what power is one man more supreme than others?–Yet you say you have no king!”
“No–no king. The Governor is made so each year by the men in council–only one year–then another man–the Governor gets no corn in trade for his time,–and no other thing, but honor, if he is good! Tahn-té has talked to us in council of kings,–thus we know what a king does. We have no king.”
“But while a man is the governor does he not rule all the people?”
“No–it is not so. He works for the people. He has a right hand man, and a left hand man to talk with of all things. But when it is a big thing of trouble or of need, at that time the council is called, and each man speaks, and in the end each man put a black bean or a white bean in a jar to say for him ‘yes’ or to say for him ‘no.’ That is how the law is made in all the villages of the P[=o] – s[=o]n-gé valley. There is no king!”
“We are of a surety in a new world if rulers work only for honor–and get not any of that unless they are good!” decided Don Ruy. “Make record of that novelty, Chico–our worthy Maestro Diego will find no equal of that rule in all Europe!”
“It is well for civilization that it is so!” decided Juan Gonzalvo. “Who is to advance the arts and knightly orders except there be Courts of Pontiff and of Royalty?”
“And the royalty would be a weak stomached lot if they gained not even extra corn for all their sceptre waving, and royal nods;–eh? But what of this Po-Ahtun-ho–this man who is not king–yet who is supreme?”
This query was interpreted by José, and after talk and deliberation one of the oldest men made answer.
“The Po-Ahtun is an order very ancient. When the earth was yet soft, and the rocks wet, and the first people were taught words by the mocking bird,–in that time of our Ancient Fathers, gods spoke to men–and in that time the order of Po-Ahtun was made. It was made that men could work together on earth for spirit good. When the Mountain God, Po-se-yemo, lived as a man on the earth,–he was the chief priest of the Po-Ahtun order. Po-Ahtun means ‘The Ruler of Things from the Beginning.’ Many men belong to the Po-Ahtun, and learn the prayers, and the songs of the prayers. When the Po-Ahtun-ho walks no more on the earth–and his spirit goes on the twilight trail to Those Above, at that time the brothers of the order name the man who is to be Ruler–and he rules also until he dies.
“Then it seems your Cacique is really a king. You but call him by a different name.”
“No–it is not so. Tahn-té has told the men of Povi-whah what a king is. We have no king. A king fights with knife, and with spear, and he, in his own village, punishes the one who does evil, and orders what men work on the water canal for the fields:–and what men make new a broken wall, or what men clean the court which is the property of all. The king and his men say how all these things then must be done. With the people of Povi-whah the governor does these works and orders them done, and has the man whipped if the work he does is bad work. The chief of war does work as do other men, until the Navahu and the Yutahs have to be driven away;–then it is his work to fight them–he is a warrior, but he does king work in war. These are the men who do king work. But we have no king.”
