 CHAPTER 4 8000 YEARS AGO This morning Antia got old nurse to allow her to take up the poor learned gentleman's breakfast. He did not recognise her at first, but when he did he was vaguely pleased to see her. You see I am wearing the charm round my neck, she said. I am taking care of it, like you told us to. That's right, said he. Did you have a good game last night? You will eat your breakfast before it's cold, won't you? said Antia. Yes, we had a splendid time. The charm made it all dark, and then greeny light, and then it spoke. Oh, I wish you could have heard it. It was such a darling voice. And it told us the other half of it was lost in the past. So of course we shall have to look for it there. The learned gentleman rubbed his hair with both hands, and looked anxiously at Antia. I suppose it's natural. Beautiful imagination, so forth, he said. Yet someone must have. Who told you that some part of the charm was missing? I can't tell you, she said. I know it seems most awfully rude, especially after being so kind about telling us the name of power, and all that. But really I'm not allowed to tell anybody anything about the—the—the person who told me. You won't forget your breakfast, will you? The learned gentleman smiled feebly, and then frowned. Not a cross-frown, but a puzzle-frown. Thank you, he said. I shall always be pleased if you'll look in. Any time you're passing, you know—at least—I will, she said. Goodbye. I'll always tell you anything I may tell. He had not had many adventures with children in them, and he wondered whether all children were like these. He spent quite five minutes in wondering, before he settled down to the fifty-second chapter of his great book on The Secret Rights of the Priests of Arm and Raw. It is no use to pretend that the children did not feel a good deal of agitation at the thought of going through the charm into the past—that idea that perhaps they might stay in the past and never get back again was anything but pleasing. Yet no one would have dared to suggest that the charm should not be used, and though each was in its heart very frightened indeed. They would all have joined in jeering at the cowardice of any one of them who should have uttered the timid but natural suggestion—don't let's! It seemed necessary to make arrangements for being out all day, for there was no reason to suppose that the sound of the dinner-bell would be able to reach back into the past. And it seemed unwise to excite old nurse's curiosity when nothing they could say, not even the truth, could in any way satisfy it. And they were all very proud to think how well they had understood what the charm and the Sammy had had said about time and space and things like that, and they were perfectly certain that it would be quite impossible to make old nurse understand a single word of it. So they merely asked her to let them take their dinner out into Regent's Park. And this, with the implied cold mutton and tomatoes, was readily granted. You can get yourself some buns or sponge cakes, or whatever you fancy like, said old nurse, giving Cyril a shilling. Don't go getting jam-tarts now! So messy are the best-of-times, and without forks and plates, ruin nation to your clothes! Besides, you're not being able to wash your hands and faces afterwards! So Cyril took the shilling, and they all started off. They went round by the Tottenham Court Road to buy a piece of waterproof sheeting to put over the Sammyad in case it should be raining in the past when they got there, for it is almost certain death to a Sammyad to get wet. The sun was shining very brightly, and even London looked pretty. Women were selling roses from big baskets full, and Andrea bought four roses, one each, for herself and the others. They were red roses, and smelled of summer, the kind of roses you always want so desperately to buy Christmas time when you can only get mistletoe, which is pale right through to its very scent, and holly, which pricks your nose if you try to smell it. So now everyone had a rose in its buttonhole, and soon everyone was sitting on the grass in Regent's Park under trees whose leaves would have been clean, clear green in the country, but here were dusty and yellowish, and brown at the edges. We've got to go on with it, said Andrea, and as the eldest has to go first, you will have to be last, Jane. You quite understand about holding on to the charm as you go through, don't you, pussy? I wish I hadn't got to be last, said Jane. You shall carry the Sammyad, if you like, said Andrea. That is, she added, remembering the beast's queer temper, if it'll let you. The Sammyad, however, was unexpectedly amiable. I don't mind, it says, who carries me, so long as it doesn't drop me. I can bear being dropped. Jane with trembling hands took the Sammyad and its fishbasket under one arm. The charm's long string was hung round her neck. Then they all stood up. Jane held out the charm at arm's length, and Cyril solemnly pronounced the word of power. As he spoke it, the charm grew tall and broad, and he saw that Jane was just holding onto the edge of a great red arch of very curious shape. The opening of the arch was small, but Cyril saw that he could go through it. All round and beyond the arch were the faded trees and trampled grass of Regent's Park, where the little ragged children were playing ring of roses. But through the opening of it shone a blaze of blue and yellow and red. Cyril drew a long breath, and stiffened his legs, so that the others should not see that his knees were trembling and almost knocking together. Here goes! he said, and, stepping up through the arch, disappeared. Then followed Anthea. Robert, coming next, held fast at Anthea's suggestion to the sleeve of Jane. He was thus dragged safely through the arch, and as soon as they were on the other side of the arch there was no more arch at all, and no more Regent's Park either. They were now in a light so bright that they winked and blinked and rubbed their eyes. During this dazzling interval, Anthea felt for the charm and pushed it inside Jane's frock so that it might be quite safe. When their eyes got used to the new, wonderful light, the children looked around them. The sky was very, very blue, and it sparkled and glittered in their eyes. It sparkled and glittered and dazzled like the sea at home and the sun shines on it. They were standing on a little clearing in a thick, low forest. There were trees and shrubs and a close, thorny, tangly undergrowth. In front of them stretched a bank of strange black mud. Then came the browny-yellowy shining ribbon of a river. Then more dry, caked mud and more greeny-browny jungle. The only things that told that human people had been there were the clearing, a path that led to it, and an odd arrangement of cush reeds in the river. They looked at each other. "'Well,' said Robert, "'this is a change of air!' It was. The air was hotter than they could have imagined, even in London and August. "'I wish I knew where we were,' said Cyril. "'Here's a river now. I wonder whether it's the Amazon or the Tiber or what?' "'It's the Nile,' said the Samyad, looking at the fish-bag. "'Then this is Egypt,' said Robert, who had once taken a geography prize. "'I don't see any crocodiles,' said Cyril, objecting. His prize had been for natural history. The Samyad reached out a hairy arm from its basket and pointed a heap of mud at the edge of the water. "'What do you call that?' it said, and as it spoke, the heap of mud slid into the river, just as a slab of damp, mixed mortar will slip from a bricklayer's trowel. "'Oh,' said everybody, there was a crashing among the reeds on the other side of the water. "'And there's a river-horse!' said the Samyad, as a great beast like an enormous slaty blue slug showed itself against the black bank on the far side of the stream. "'It's a hippopotamus,' said Cyril. "'It seems much more real somehow than the one at the zoo, doesn't it?' "'I'm glad it's being real on the other side of the river,' said Jane. And now there was a crackling of reeds and twigs behind them. This was horrible. Of course it might be another hippopotamus, or a crocodile, or a lion, or in fact almost anything. "'Keep your hand on the charm, Jane,' said Robert hastily. "'We ought to have a means of escape handy.' "'I'm dead certain this is a sort of place for simply anything might happen to us.' "'I believe a hippopotamus is going to happen to us,' said Jane. "'A very, very big one!' they had all turned to face the danger. "'Don't be silly, little duffers,' said the Samyad in its friendly informal way. "'It's not a river-horse. "'It's a human!' it was. It was a girl of about Anthea's age. Her hair was short and fair, and though her skin was tanned by the sun, you could see that it would have been fair, too, if it had had a chance. She had every chance of being tanned, for she had no clothes to speak of, and the four English children carefully dressed in frocks, hats, shoes, stockings, coats, collars, and all the rest of it, envied her more than any words of theirs or of mine could possibly say. There was no doubt that here was the right costume for that climate. She carried a pot on her head of red and black earthenware. She did not see the children, who shrank back against the edge of the jungle, and she went forward to the brink of the river to fill her picture. As she went, she made a strange sort of droning, humming, melancholy noise, all on two notes. Anthea could not help thinking that perhaps the girl thought this noise was singing. The girl filled the picture and set it down by the river bank. Then she waded into the water and stooped over the circle of cut reeds. She pulled half a dozen fine fish out of the water within the reeds, killing each as she took it out, and threading it on the long osier that she carried. Then she knotted the osier, hung it on her arm, picked up the picture, and turned to come back. And as she turned, she saw the four children. The white dresses of Jane and Anthea stood out like snow against the dark forest background. She screamed, and the picture fell, and the water was spilled out over the hard mud surface and over the fish, which had fallen too. Then the water slowly trickled away into the deep cracks. Don't be frightened! Anthea cried. We won't hurt you. Who are you? said the girl. Now, once for all, I am not going to be bothered to tell you how it was that the girl could understand, Anthea, and Anthea could understand the girl. You at any rate would not understand me if I tried to explain it any more than you could understand about time and space being only forms of thought. You may think what you like. Perhaps the children had found out the universal language which everyone could understand, and which wise men so far have not found. You will have noticed long ago that they were singularly lucky children, and they may have had this piece of luck as well as others. For it may have been that, but why pursue the question further? The fact remains that in all their adventures the muddle-headed inventions which we call foreign languages never bothered them in the least. They could always understand and be understood. If you can explain this, please do. I daresay I could understand your explanation, though you could never understand mine. Some in the girl said, Who are you? Everyone understood at once, and Anthea replied, We are children, just like you. Don't be frightened. Won't you show us where you live? Jane put her face right into the Samyad's basket, and burried her mouth into its fur to whisper. Is it safe? Won't they eat us? Are they cannibals? The Samyad shrugged its fur. Don't make your voice buzz like that. It tickles my ears. It said rather crassly, You can always get back to Regent's Park in time if you keep fast hold of the charm. Anthea said, The strange girl was trembling with fright. Anthea had a bangle on her arm. It was a sevenpenny-hape and a trumpery thing that pretended to be silver, and had a glass heart of turquoise blue hanging from it, and it was the gift of the maid of all work at the Fitzroy Street House. Here, said Anthea, This is for you. That is to show we will not hurt you. But if you take it, I shall know that you won't hurt us. The girl held at her hand, Anthea slid the bangle over it, and the girl's face lighted up with a joy of possession. Come, she said, looking lovingly at the bangle, it is peace between your house and mine. She picked up her fish and pitcher, and led the way up the narrow path by which she had come, and the others followed. This is something like, said Ziru, trying to be brave. Yes, said Robert. Also assuming of boldness he was far from feeling. This really and truly is an adventure. It being in the past makes it quite different from the phoenix and carpet happenings. The belt of thick growing acacia trees and shrubs, mostly prickly and unpleasant looking, seemed about half a mile across. The path was narrow and the wood dark. At last, ahead, daylight shone through the boughs and leaves. The whole party suddenly came out of the woods shadow into the glare of the sunlight that shone on a great stretch of yellow sand dotted with heaps of grey rocks, where spiky cactus plants showed gaudy crimson and pink flowers among their shabby sand-peppered leaves. A way to the right was something that looked like a grey-brown hedge, and from beyond just blue smoke went up into the bluer sky, and overall the sun shone till you could hardly bear your clothes. That is where I live," said the girl, pointing. I won't go, whispered Jane into the basket, unless you say it's all right. The Sammy had ought to have been touched by this proof of confidence. Perhaps, however, it looked upon us as a proof of doubt, for it merely snarled, if you don't go now, I'll never help you again. Oh! whispered Antje, Dear Jane, don't! Think of father and mother and all of us getting our heart's desire, and we can go back any minute. Come on! Besides, said Cyril, in a low voice, the Sammy had must know there's no danger, or it wouldn't go. It's not so open above brave itself. Come on! This Jane at last consented to do. As they got nearer to the brownie fence, they saw that it was a great hedge about eight feet high, made of piled-up thorn-bushes. What's that for, asked Cyril, to keep out foes and wild beasts, said the girl. I should think it ought to, too, said he. Why, some of the thorns are as long as my foot! There was an opening in the hedge, and they followed the girl through it. A little way further on was another hedge, not so high, also of dry thorn-bushes, very prickly and spiteful-looking, and within this was a sort of village of huts. There were no gardens, and no roads, just huts, built of wood and twigs and clay, and roofed with great palm-leaves, dumped down anywhere. The doors of these houses were very low, like the doors of dog-kennels. The ground between them was not paths or streets, but just yellow sand trampled very hard and smooth. In the middle of the village there was a hedge that enclosed what seemed to be a piece of ground about as big as their own garden in Camden Town. No sooner were the children well within the inner thorn-hedge, than dozens of men and women and children came crowding round from behind and inside the huts. The girl stood protectingly in front of the four children, and said, They are wonder-children from beyond the desert! They bring marvellous gifts, and I have said that it is peace between us and them. The children from London, where nothing now surprises anyone, had never before seen so many people look so astonished! They crowded round the children, touching their clothes, their shoes, the buttons on the boy's jackets, and the coral of the girl's necklaces. To say something, whispered Antia, We come, said Ziru, with some dim remembrance of a dreadful day when he had to wait in an outer office while his father interviewed a solicitor, and there had been nothing to read but the Daily Telegraph. We come from the world where the sun never sets, and peace with honour is what we want. We are the great Anglo-Saxon or conquering race, and not that we want to conquer you, yet it hastily. We only want to look at your houses and your… well, as all you've got here, and then we shall return to our own place, and tell of all that we have seen, so that your name may be famed. Ziru's speech didn't keep the crowd from pressing round and looking as eagerly as ever at the clothing of the children. Antia had an idea that these people had never seen woven stuff before, and she saw how wonderful and strange it must seem to people who had never had any clothes but the skins of beasts. The sewing, too, of modern clothes seemed to astonish them very much. They must have been able to sew themselves, by the way, for men who seemed to be the chiefs wore knicker-bockers of goat-skin or deer-skin fastened round the waist with twisted strips of hide, and the women wore long, skimpy skirts of animal-skins. The people were not very tall, their hair was fair, and men and women both had it short. Their eyes were blue, and that seemed odd in Egypt. Most of them were tattooed like sailors, only more roughly. What is this? What is this? They kept asking, touching the children's clothes curiously. Antia hastily took off Jane's frilly lace collar and handed it to the woman who seemed most friendly. Take this, she said, and look at it, and leave us alone. We want to talk among ourselves! She spoke in the tone of authority which she'd always found successful when she had not time to coax her baby brother to do as he was told. The tone was just as successful now. The children were left together, and the crowd retreated. It paused a dozen yards away to look at the lace collar and to go on talking as hard as it could. The children will never know what those people said. They knew well enough that they, the four strangers, were the subject of the talk. They tried to comfort themselves by remembering the girl's promise of friendliness, but of course the thought of the charm was more comfortable than anything else. They sat down on the sand in the shadow of the hedge-dran place in the middle of the village, and now for the first time they were able to look about them and to see something more than a crowd of eager, curious faces. They here noticed that the women wore necklaces made of beads of different-coloured stone, and from these hung pendants of odd, strange shapes, and some of them had bracelets of ivory and flint. I say, said Robert, what a lot we could teach them if we stayed here! I expect they could teach us something, too, said Cyril. Did you notice that flint bracelet the woman had that Anthea gave the collar to? That must have taken some making. Look here, and they'll get suspicious if we talk among ourselves, and I do want to know about how they do things. Let's get the girl to show us round, and we can be thinking about how to get the amulet at the same time. Only mind, we must keep together. Anthea beckoned the girl, who was standing a little way off looking wistfully at them, and she came gladly. Tell us how you made the bracelets, the stone ones, said Cyril, with other stones, said the girl. The men make them. We have men of special skill in such work. Haven't you any iron tools? Iron, said the girl. I don't know what you mean. It was the first word she had not understood. Are all your tools of flint, asked Cyril? Of course! said the girl, opening her eyes wide. I wish I had time to tell you of that talk. The English children wanted to hear all about this new place, but they also wanted to tell of their own country. It was like when you come back from your holidays, and you want to hear and to tell everything at the same time. As the talk went on, there were more and more words that the girl could not understand, and the children soon gave up the attempt to explain to her what their own country was like. When they began to see how very few of the things they had always thought they could not do without, were really not at all necessary to life. The girls showed them how the huts were made. Indeed, as one was being made that very day, she took them to look at it. The way of building was very different from ours. The men stuck long pieces of wood into a piece of ground the size of the hut they wanted to make. These were about eight inches apart. Then they put in another row about eight inches away from the first, and then a third row, still further out. Then all the space between was filled up at small branches and twigs, and then dubbed over with black mud, worked with the feet till it was soft and sticky like putty. The girl told them how the men went hunting with flint spears and arrows, and how they made boats with reeds and clay. Then she explained the reed thing in the river that she had taken the fish out of. It was a fish trap. Just a ring of reeds set up in the water, with only one little opening in it, and in this opening, just below the water, were stuck reeds slanting the way of the river's flow, so that the fish, when they had swum slyly in, slyly couldn't get out again. She showed them the clay pots and jars and platters, some of them ornamented with black and red patterns, and the most wonderful things made of flint and different sorts of stone, beads and ornaments, and tools and weapons of all sorts and kinds. It is really wonderful, said Sirle patronizingly, when you consider that it's all eight thousand years ago. I don't understand you, said the girl. It isn't eight thousand years ago, whispered Jane. It's now, and that's just what I don't like about it. I say, do let's get home again before anything more happens. You can see for yourselves, the charm isn't here. What's in that place in the middle? Asked Antia, struck by a sudden thought, and pointing to the fence. That's the secret, sacred place, said the girl and a whisper. No one knows what is there. There are many walls, and inside the incidest one, it is. But no one knows what it is, except the head's men. I believe you know, said Sirle, looking at her very hard. I'll give you this, if you'll tell me. Said Antia, taking off a bead-ring, which had already been much admired. Yes, said the girl, catching equally at the ring. My father is one of the heads, and I know a water-charm to make him talk in his sleep. And he has spoken. I will tell you, but if they know I have told you, they will kill me. In the incidest inside there is a stone-box, and in it there is the amulet. No one knows whence it came. It came from very far away. Have you seen it? asked Antia. The girl nodded. Is it anything like this? asked Jane, rashly producing the charm. The girl's face turned a sickly greenish-white. Hide it! Hide it! she whispered. You must put it back! If they see it, they will kill us all. You for taking it, and me for knowing that there was such a thing. Oh, woe! Woe! Why did you ever come here? Don't be frightened, said Cyril. They shan't know. Jane, don't you be such a little jack-ape again. That's all. You see what will happen if you do. Now tell me, he turned to the girl, but before a time to speak the question, there was a loud shout, and a man bounded into the opening in the thorn-hedge. Many foes are upon us, he cried, make ready the defences. His breath only served for that, and he lay panting on the ground. Oh, do let's go home! said Jane. Look here! I don't care! I will! She held up the charm. Fortunately, all the strange, fair people were too busy to notice her. She held up the charm, and nothing happened. You haven't said the word of power, said Antia. Jane hastily said it, and still nothing happened. Hold it up to the east, you silly! said Robert. Which is the east? Did Jane dance about in her agony of terror? Nobody knew, so they opened the fish-bag to ask the Samyad, and the bag had only a water-proof sheet in it. The Samyad was gone. Hide the sacred thing, hide it, hide it! whispered the girl. The girl shrugged his shoulders, and tried to look as brave as he knew he ought to feel. Hide it up, pussie! he said. We are in it for now, we've just got to stay and see it out. End of Chapter 4. Recording by Porick. Chapter 5 of the Story of the Amulet. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Porick. Chapter 5. The Fight in the Village. Here was a horrible position for English children whose proper date was AD 1905 and whose proper address was London, set down in Egypt, in the year 6000 B.C., with no means whatever, of getting back into their own time and place. They could not find the East, and the sun was of no use at the moment, because some officious person had once explained to Cyril that the sun did not really set in the west at all, nor rise in the east either, for the matter of that. The Samyad had crept out of the bath-bag when they were not looking and had basely deserted them. An enemy was approaching. There would be a fight. People get killed in fights, and the idea of taking part in a fight was one that did not appeal to the children. The man who had brought the news of the enemy still lay panting on the sand. His tongue was hanging out, long and red, like a dog's. The people of the village were hurriedly filling the gaps in the fence with torn bushes from the heap that seemed to have been piled there, ready for just such a need. They lifted the cluster-thorns with long poles. Such as men at home, nowadays, lift hay with a fork. Jane bit her lip, and tried to decide not to cry. Robert felt in his pocket for a toy pistol, and loaded it with a pink paper cap. It was his only weapon. Cyril tightened his belt to holes, and Anthea absently took the drooping red roses from the button-holes of the others, bit the ends of the stalks, and set them in a pot of water that stood in the shadow by a hut door. She was always rather silly about flowers. Look here, she said. I think perhaps the Samoyed is really arranging something for us. I don't believe it would go away and leave us all alone in the past. I'm certain it wouldn't. Anne succeeded in deciding not to cry at any rate yet. But what can we do, Robert asked? Nothing, Cyril answered promptly, except keep her eyes and ears open. Look! That runner chaps getting his wind. Let's go and hear what he's got to say. The runner had risen to his knees and was sitting back in his heels. Now he stood up and spoke. He began by some respectful remarks addressed to the heads of the village. His speech got more interesting when he said, I went out in my raft to snare ibises, and I had gone up the stream and hour's journey. Then I set my snares and waited, and I heard the sound of many wings, and looking up saw many herons circling in the air, and I saw that they were afraid. So I took thought. A beast may scare one heron, coming upon it suddenly, but no beast will scare a whole flock of herons. And still they flew and circled and would not light. So then I knew that what scared the herons must be men, and men who knew not our ways of going softly so as to take the birds and beasts unawares. By this I knew they were not of our race, or of our place. So leaving my raft I crept along the river bank, and at last came upon the strangers. They are as many as the sands of the desert, and their spearheads shine red like the sun. They are a terrible people, and their march is towards us. Having seen this, I ran, and did not stay till I was before you. These are your folk, said the headman, turning suddenly and angrily on Cyril. You came as spies for them. We did not, said Cyril indignantly. We wouldn't be spies for anything. I'm certain these people aren't a bit like us. Are they now? he asked the runner. No, was the answer. These men's faces were darkened, and their hair black as night. Yet these strange children, maybe, are their gods, who have come before to make ready the way for them. A murmur ran through the crowd. No, no, said Cyril again, we are on your side. We will help you to guard your sacred things. The headman seemed impressed by the fact that Cyril knew that there were sacred things to be guarded. He stood a moment gazing at the children. Then he said, it is well, and now let all make offering that we may be strong in battle. The crowd dispersed, and nine men, wearing antelope skins, grouped themselves in front of the opening in the hedge in the middle of the village. And presently, one by one, the men brought all sorts of things. Hippopotamus flesh, ostrich feathers, the fruit of the date palms, red chalk, green chalk, fish from the river, and ibex from the mountains. And the headman received these gifts. There was another hedge inside the first, a better yard from it, so that there was a lane inside between the hedges. And every now and then one of the headmen would disappear along this lane, with full hands, and come back with hands empty. They are making offerings to their amulets. Serantia, we'd better give something, too. The pockets of the party, hastily explored, yielded a piece of pink tape, a bit of ceiling wax, and part of the water-breed watch that Robert had not been able to help take into pieces at Christmas, and had never had time to rearrange. Most boys have a watch in this condition. They presented their offerings, and Antia added the red roses. The headmen who took the things looked at them with awe, especially at the red roses and the water-breed watch fragment. This is a day of very wondrous happenings. I have no more room in me to be astonished. Our maiden said there was peace between you and us. And but for this coming of a foe we should have made sure. The children shuddered. Now speak! Are you on our side? Yes! Don't I keep telling you we are? Robert said. Look here! I will give you a sign. You see this? He held out the toy-pistol. I shall speak to it, and if it answers me, he will know that I and the others have come to guard your sacred thing, that we've just made the offerings to. Will that God whose image you hold in your hand speak to you alone, or shall I also hear it? Asked the man cautiously. He'll be surprised when you do hear it, said Robert. Now then, he looked at the pistol and said, If we are to guard the sacred treasure within, he pointed to the hedged-in space, Speak with thy loud voice, and we shall obey. He pulled the trigger, and the cap went off. The noise was loud, for it was a two-shilling pistol, and the caps were excellent. Every man, woman, and child in the village fell on its face in the sand. The head-man, who had accepted the test, rose first. The voice has spoken, he said. Lead them into the anti-room of the sacred thing. So now the four children were led in through the opening of the hedge, and round the lane till they came to an opening in the inner hedge, and they went through an opening in that, and so passed into another lane. The thing was built something like this, and all the hedges were of brushwood and thorns. Drawing of maize omitted. It's like the maize at Hampton Court! whispered Antia. The lanes were all open to the sky, but the little hut in the middle of the maize was round-roofed, and a curtain of skins hung over the doorway. Here you may wait, said their guide, but do not dare to pass the curtain. He himself passed it, and disappeared. But look here, whispered Cyril. Some of us ought to be outside, in case the Samyad turns up. Don't let's get separated from each other, whatever we do! So, Antia, it's quite bad enough to be separated from the Samyad. We can't do anything while that man is in there. Let's all go out into the village again. We can come back later, now we know the way in. That man'll have to fight like the rest, most likely, if it comes to fighting. If we find the Samyad, we'll go straight home. It must be getting late, and I don't much like this maizey place. They went out and told the headman that they would protect the treasure when the fighting began, and now they looked about them and were able to see exactly how a first-class worker in Flint flakes and notches an arrow-head, or the edge of an axe, an advantage which no other person now alive has ever enjoyed. The boys found the weapons most interesting. The arrow-heads were not on arrows such as you shoot from a bow, but on javelins, for throwing from the hand. The chief weapon was a stone fastened to a rather short stick, something like the things gentlemen used to carry about and call life-preservers in the days of the garotters. Then there were long things like spears or lances, with flint-knives, horribly sharp, and flint-battle-axes. Everyone in the village was so busy that the place was like an anteep when you've walked into it by accident. The women were busy, and even the children. Right suddenly all the air seemed to glow and grow red. It was like the sudden opening of a furnace-door, such as you may see at Woolwich Arsenal, if you ever have the look to be taken there, and then almost suddenly it was though the furnace-doors had been shut, for the sun had set, and it was night. The sun had that abrupt way of setting in Egypt eight thousand years ago, and I believe it has never been able to break itself of the habit, and sets in exactly the same manner to the present day. The girl brought the skins of wild deer, and led the children to a heap of dry sedge. My father says they will not attack yet. Sleep! she said, and it really seemed a good idea. You may think that in the midst of all these dangers the children would not have been able to sleep, but somehow, though they were rather frightened now and then, the feeling was growing in them, deep down and almost hidden away, but still growing, that the same it was to be trusted, and that they were really and truly safe. This did not prevent their being quite as much frightened as they could bear to be without being perfectly miserable. I suppose we'd better go to sleep, said Robert. I don't know what an earth-poor old nurse will do with us out all night. Said the police in our tracks, I expect. I only wish they could find us. A dozen policemen would be rather welcome just now, but it's no use getting into a stew over it, yet soothingly. Good night! And they all fell asleep. They were awakened by long, loud, terrible sounds, that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Horrible threatening shouts and shrieks and howls that sounded, as Cyril said later, like the voices of men thirsting for their enemy's blood. It is the voice of the strange men, said the girl, coming to them trembling through the dark, and they have attacked the walls, and the thorns have driven them back. My father says they will not try again till daylight, but they are shouting to frighten us, as though we were savages, dwellers in the swamps. We cried indignantly. All night the terrible noise went on, but when the sun rose, as abruptly as he had set, the sound suddenly ceased. The children had hardly time to be glad of this, before a shower of javelins came hurtling over the great thorn-hedge, and everyone sheltered behind the huts. But next moment another shower of weapons came from the opposite side, and the crowd rushed to other shelter. Cyril pulled out a javelin that had stuck in the roof of the hut beside him. Its head was a brightly burnished copper. Then the sound of shouting arose again, and the crackle of dried thorns. The enemy was breaking down the hedge. All the villagers swarmed to the point whence the crackling and shouting came. They hurled stones over the hedges, and shot arrows with flint heads. The children had never before seen men with a fighting light in their eyes. It was very strange and terrible, and gave you a queer, thick feeling in your throat. It was quite different from the pictures of fights in the illustrative papers at home. It seemed that the shower of stones had driven back the besiegers. The besieged drew breath, but at that moment the shouting and the crackling arose on the opposite side of the village, and the crowd hastened to defend that point. And so the fights swayed to and fro across the village, for the besieged did not the sense to divide their forces as their enemies had done. Cyril noticed that every now and then certain of the fighting men would enter the maze and come out with brighter faces, a braver aspect, and a more upright carriage. I believe they go and touch the amulet, he said. You know the Samyed said it could make people brave. They crept through the maze, and watching they saw that Cyril was right. A headman was standing in front of the skin-curtain, and as the warriors came for him he murmured a word they could not hear, and touched their foreheads with something that they could not see, and this something he held in his hands. And through his fingers they saw the gleam of a red stone that they knew. The fight raged across the torn hedge outside. Suddenly there was a loud and bitter cry. They're in! They're in! The hedge is down! The headman disappeared behind the deerskin-curtain. He's gone to hide it, sedantia. Oh, Samyed dear, how could you leave us? Suddenly there was a shriek from inside the hut, and the headman staggered out white with fear and fled out through the maze. The children were as white as he. Oh, what is it? What is it? moaned Antia. Oh, Samyed, how could you? How could you? And the sound of the fight sank breathlessly, and swelled fiercely all around. It was like the rising and falling of the waves of the sea. Antia shuddered and said again, Oh, Samyed, Samyed! Well, said a brisk voice, and the curtain of skins was lifted at one corner by a furry hand, and outpeaped the bat's ears and snail's eyes of the Samyed. Antia caught it in her arms, and a sigh of desperate relief was breathed by each of the four. Oh, which is the east? Antia said, and she spoke hurriedly, for the noise of wild fighting drew nearer and nearer. Don't choke me, said the Samyed. Come inside! The inside of the hut was pitch dark. I've got a match, said Cyril, and struck it. The floor of the hut was of soft, loose sand. I've been asleep here, said the Samyed. Most comfortable it's been. The best sand I've had for a month. It's all right. Everything's all right. I knew your only chance would be while the fight was going on. That man won't come back. I bit him, and he thinks I'm an evil spirit. I've only got to take the thing and go. The hut was hung with skins, heaped in the middle where the offerings that had been given the night before, Antia's roses fading on the top of the heap. At one side of the hut stood a large square stone block, and on it an oblong box of earthenware, with strange figures of men and beasts on it. Is the thing in there? asked Cyril, as the Samyed pointed a skinny finger at it. You must be the judge of the hut, said the Samyed. The man was just going to bury the box and the sand, when I jumped out at him, and bit him. Light another match, Robert, said Antia. Now then, quick, which is the east? Why, where the sun rises, of course. But someone told us. Oh, they'll tell you anything, said the Samyed impatiently, getting into its bath-bag and wrapping itself in its waterproof sheet. But we can't see the sun in here, and it isn't rising anyhow, said Jane. How you do waste time, the Samyed said. Why, the east, where the shrine is, of course, there! It pointed to the great stone, and still the shouting and the clash of stone and metal sounded nearer and nearer. The children could hear that the headmen had surrounded the hut to protect their treasure as long as might be from the enemy. But none dared to come in after the Samyed's sudden fierce biting of the headman. Now, Jane, said Cyril, very quickly, I'll take the amulet, you stand ready to hold up the charm, and be sure you don't let it go as you come through. You made a step forward, but at that instant a great crackling overhead ended in a blaze of sunlight. The roof had been broken in at one side, and great slabs of it were being lifted off by two spears. As the children trembled and winked in the new light, large dark hands tore down the wall, and a dark face, with a blobby fat nose, looked over the gap. Even at that awful moment, Anthea had time to think that it was very likely the face of Mr. Jacob Absalom, who had sold them the charm and the shop near Charing Cross. Here is their amulet! cried a harsh, strange voice. It is this that makes them strong to fight, and brave to die. And what else have we here, gods or demons? He glared fiercely at the children, and the whites of his eyes were very white indeed. He had a wet, red copper knife in his teeth. There was not a moment to lose. Jane! Jane! Quick! Quick! cried everyone passionately. Jane with trembling hands held up the charm towards the east, and Cyril spoke the word of power. The amulet grew to a great arch. Out beyond it was the glaring Egyptian sky, the broken wall, the cruel, dark, big-nosed face with a red, wet knife in its gleaming teeth. Within the arch was the dull, faint, greeny-brown of London grass and trees. Oh, tight, Jane! Cyril cried, and he dashed through the arch, dragging Anthia and the Samyet after him. Robert followed, clutching Jane, and in the ears of each, as they passed through the arch of the charm, the sound and fury of battle died out suddenly and utterly. And they heard only the low, dull, discontented home of vast London, and the peaking and passing of the sparrows on the gravel and the voices of the ragged baby-children playing ringer-roses on the yellow-trumpled grass. And the charm was a little charm again in Jane's hand, and there was the basket with their dinner and the bath-buns lying just where they had left it. My hat! said Cyril, drawing a long breath. That was something like an adventure. It was rather like one, certainly, said the Samyet. They all lay still, breathing in the safe, quiet air of Regent's Park. We'd better go home at once, said Anthia presently. Old nurse will be most frightfully anxious. The sun looks about the same as it did when we started yesterday. We've been away twenty-four hours. The buns are quite soft still, said Cyril, feeling one. I suppose the Jew kept them fresh. They were not hungry, curiously enough. They picked up the dinner-basket and the Samyet-basket and went straight home. Old nurse met them with amazement. Well, if I ever did, she said, what's gone wrong? You soon tired of your picnic? The children took this to be bitter irony, which means saying the exact opposite of what you mean in order to make yourself disagreeable. That's when you happen to have a dirty face, and someone says, how nice and clean you look. We're very sorry, began Anthia, but old nurse said, Oh, bless me, child. I don't care. Please yourselves, and you'll please me. Come in and get your dinners comfortable. I've got a potato on a boiling. When she'd gone to attend to the potatoes, the children looked at each other. Could it be that old nurse had so changed that she no longer cared that they should have been away from home for twenty-four hours all night, in fact, without any explanation whatsoever? But the Samyet put its head out of its basket and said, What's the matter? Don't you understand? When you come back to the charmarch at the same time as you go through it, this isn't tomorrow. Is it still yesterday? asked Jane. No, it's today. The same as it's always been. It wouldn't do to go mixing up the present and the past, cutting bits out of one to fit into the other. Then all that adventure took no time at all. You can call it that, if you like. Said the Samyet. It took none of the modern time, anyhow. That evening, Anthea carried up a steak for the learned gentleman's dinner. She persuaded Beatrice, the maid of all work, who had given her the bangle with the blue stone, to let her do it. And she stayed and talked to him, by special invitation, while he ate the dinner. She told him the whole adventure, beginning with, This afternoon we found ourselves in the bank of the River Nile, and ending up with, and then we remembered how to get back, and there we were in Regent's Park. And it hadn't taken any time at all. She did not tell anything about the charm, or the Samyet, because that was forbidden. But the story was quite wonderful enough, even as it was, to entrance the learned gentleman. You are a most unusual little girl, he said. Who tells you these things? No one, said Anthea. They just happen. Make believe, he said slowly, as one who recalls, and pronounces a long forgotten word. He sat long after she had left him. At last he roused himself at a start. I really must take a holiday, he said. My nurse must be all out of order. I actually have a perfectly distinct impression, that the little girl from the rooms below came in, and gave me a coherent, and graphic picture of life, as I conceive it to have been, in pre-Dynastic Egypt. Strange what tricks the mind will play! I shall have to be more careful. He finished his bread conscientiously, and actually went for a mile-walk before he went back to his work. End of Chapter 5 Recording by Porick Chapter 6 of the Story of the Amulet This is the LibriVox Recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Porick Chapter 6 The Way to Babylon How many miles to Babylon? Three score in ten. Can I get there by candlelight? Yes, and back again! Jane was singing to her doll, rocking it to and fro in the house which she had made for herself and it. The roof of the house was the dining table, and the walls were tablecloths and anti-maccasars hanging all around, and kept in their places by books laid on their top ends of the table-edge. The others were tasting the fearful joys of domestic tobogganing. You know how it is done, with the largest and best tea-tray, and the surface of the stair-carpet. It is best to do it on the days when the stair-rods are being cleaned, and the carpet is only held by the nails at the top. Of course, it is one of the five or six thoroughly tip-top games that grown-up people are so unjust to. And, old nurse, though a brick in many respects, was quite enough of a standard grown-up to put her foot down on the tobogganing, long before any of the performers had had half enough of it. The tea-tray was taken away, and the baffled party entered the sitting-room, in exactly the mood not to be pleased if they could help it. So Cyril said, What a beastly mess! And Robert added, Do shut up, Jane! Even Anthea, who was almost always kind, advised Jane to try another song. I'm sick to death of that, said she. It was a wet day, so none of the plans for seeing all the sights of London that can be seen for nothing could be carried out. Everyone had been thinking all the morning about the wonderful adventures of the day before, when Jane had held up the charm, and it had turned into an arch, through which they had walked straight out of the present time, and the Regent's Park, into the land of Egypt, eight thousand years ago. The memory of yesterday's happenings was still extremely fresh and frightening, so that everyone hoped that no one would suggest another excursion into the past. For it seemed to all that yesterday's adventures were quite enough to last for at least a week. Yet each felt a little anxious that the others should not think it was afraid, and presently Cyril, who really was not a coward, began to see that it would not be at all nice if he should have to think himself one. So he said, I say, about that charm. Jane, come out. We ought to talk about it anyhow. Oh, if that's all, said Robert. Jane obediently wriggled to the front of her house, and sat there. She felt for the charm to make sure that it was still round her neck. It isn't all, said Cyril, saying much more than he meant, because he thought that Robert's tone had been rude, as indeed it had. We ought to go and look for that amulet. What's the good of having a first-class charm and keeping it idle, just eating its head off in the stable? I'm going for anything, of course, said Robert. But he added, with a fine air of chivalry. Only I don't think the girls are keen today somehow. Oh, yes, I am, said Anthea Hurdley. If you think I'm afraid, I'm not. I am, though, said Jane heavily. I didn't like it, and I won't go there again, not for anything I won't. We shouldn't go there again, silly, said Cyril. It would be some other place. I daresay a place with lions and tigers in it as likely as not. Seeing Jane so frightened, may the others feel quite brave. They said they were certain they ought to go. It's so ungrateful to the Samyad not to, and the added, a little primly. Jane stood up. She was desperate. I won't, she cried. I won't, I won't, I won't. If you make me, I'll scream and I'll scream, and I'll tell old nurse, and I'll get her to burn the charm in the kitchen fire. So now, then. You can imagine how furious everyone was with Jane for feeling what each of them had felt all the morning. In each breast the same thought arose. No one can say it's our fault. And there once began to show Jane how angry they all felt that the fault was hers. This made them feel quite brave. Tell, tell, tish, it's tongue shall be split, and all the dogs in her town shall have a little bit. sang Robert. It's always the way if you have girls in anything. Cyril spoke in a cold displeasure that was worse than Robert's cruel quotation. And even Anthea said, Well, I'm not afraid if I am a girl. Which, of course, was the most cutting thing of all. Jane picked up her doll and faced the others with what is sometimes called the courage of despair. I don't care, she said. I won't. So there. It's just silly going places when you don't want to, and when you don't know what they're going to be like. You can laugh at me as much as you like, your beasts, and I hate you all. With these awful words she went out and banged the door. Then the others would not look at each other, and they did not feel so brave as they had done. Cyril took up a book, but it was not interesting to read. Robert kicked a chair leg absently. His feet were always eloquent in moments of emotion. Anthea stood pleating the end of the tablecloth into folds. She seemed earnestly anxious to get all the pleats the same size. The sound of Jane's sobs had died away. Suddenly Anthea said, Oh, let it be packs! Poor little pussy! You know she's the youngest. She called us beasts! Said Robert, kicking the chair suddenly. Well, said Cyril, it was subject to passing fits of justice. We began, you know. At least you did. Cyril's justice was always uncompromising. I'm not going to say I'm sorry if you mean that, said Robert, and the chair leg cracked to the kick he gave us as he said it. Oh, do let's! said Anthea. We're three to one, and mother does so hate it if we row. Come on, I'll say I'm sorry first, though I didn't say anything hardly. All right, let's get it over, said Cyril, opening the door. Hi, you, pussy! Far away up the stairs, a voice could be heard singing. Singing brokenly, but still defiantly. How many miles to Babylon? Three, score, and ten. Can I get there by candlelight? Yes, I'm back again. It was trying, for this was plainly meant to annoy. But Anthea would not give herself time to think this. She led the way up the stairs, taking three at a time, and bound her to the level of Jane, who sat on the top step of all, thumping her doll to the tune of the song she was trying to sing. I say, pussy, let it be, Pax, we're sorry if you are. It was enough. The kiss of peace was given by all. Jane, being the youngest, was entitled to the ceremonial. Anthea added a special apology of her own. I'm sorry if I was a pig, pussy, dear, she said. Especially because in my really and truly inside mind I've been feeling as little as if I'd rather not go into the past again, either. But then, do think, if we don't go, if we don't go, we shan't get the amulet and oh, pussy, think if we could only get father and mother and the lamb safe back. We must go, but we'll wait a day or two if you like, and then perhaps you'll feel braver. Raw meat makes you brave, however cowardly you are, Sir Robert, to show there was now no ill-feeling, and cranberries. That's what tartars eat, and they're so brave, it's simply awful. I suppose cranberries are only for Christmas time, but I'll ask old nurse to let you have your chop very raw if you like. I think I could be brave without that, said Jane hastily. She hated undercooked meat. I'll try. At this moment the door of the learned gentleman's room opened, and he looked out. Uh, excuse me, he said, and that gentle, polite, weary voice of his. But was I mistaken in thinking that I caught a familiar word just now? Were you not singing some old ballad of Babylon? No, said Robert, at least Jane was singing, how many miles? But I shouldn't have thought you could have heard the words for her. He would have said for the sniffing, but Anthea pinched him just in time. I did not hear all the words, said the learned gentleman. I wonder would you recite them to me? So they all said together, how many miles to Babylon? Three score and ten. Can I get there by candlelight? Yes, and back again. I wish one could, the learned gentleman said, but a sigh. Can't you? asked Jane. Babylon has fallen, he answered with a sigh. Who knows, it was once a great and beautiful city, and the centre of learning and art, and now it is only ruins. And so covered up with earth, that people are not even agreed as to where one stood. He was leaning on the banisters, and his eyes had a far away look in them, as though he could see through the staircase window the splendour and glory of ancient Babylon. I say, Cyril remarked abruptly, you know that charm he showed you, and you told us how to say the name that's on it. Yes. Well, do you think that charm is ever in Babylon? It is quite possible, the learned gentleman replied. Such charms have been found in very early Egyptian tombs, yet their origin has not been accurately determined as Egyptian. They may have been brought from Asia, or, supposing the charm to have been fashioned in Egypt, it might very well have been carried to Babylon by some friendly embassy, or brought back by the Babylonish army from some Egyptian campaign as part of the spoils of war. The inscription may be much later than the charm. Oh yes, it is a pleasant fancy, that that splendid specimen of yours was once used amid Babylonish surroundings. The others looked at each other, but it was Jane who spoke. Were the Babylon people savages, were they always fighting and throwing things about? For she had read the thoughts of the others by the unerring light of her own fears. And the Babylonians were certainly more gentle than the Assyrians, so to learn a gentleman, and they were not savages by any means. A very high level of culture. He looked doubtfully at his audience, and went on. I mean they made beautiful statues and jewellery, and built splendid palaces. And they were very learned. They had glorious libraries and high towers for the purpose of astrological astronomical observation. Err, said Robert, I mean for star-gazing and fortune-telling, said the learned gentleman, and there were temples and beautiful hanging gardens. I'll go to Babylon if you like, said Jane abruptly, and the others hastened to say, don't, before she should have time to change her mind. Ah, said the learned gentleman, smiling rather sadly. One can go so far in dreams, and one is young. He sighed again, and then, adding with a laboured briskness, I hope you'll have a, er, jolly game. He went into his room and shut the door. He said jolly, as if it were a foreign language, said Cyril. Come on, let's get the Samyad and go now. I think Babylon seems the most frightfully jolly place to go to. So they woke the Samyad and put it in its bass bag with a waterproof sheet, in case of inclement weather in Babylon. It was very cross, but it said it was as soon go to Babylon as anywhere else. Er, the sand is good thereabouts, it added. Then Jane held up the charm, and Cyril said, We want to go to Babylon to look for the part of you that was lost. Will you please let us go there through you? Please put us down just outside, said Jane hastily, and then if you don't like it we needn't go inside. Don't be old day, said the Samyad, so Anthea hastily uttered the word of power, but out which the charm could do nothing. Er, he cow, set you, she said softly. And as she spoke the charm grew into an arch so tall, that the top of it was close against the bedroom ceiling. Outside the arch was the bedroom painted chest of drawers and the kidderminster carpet, and the wash stand with the riveted willow pattern jug, and the faded curtains. And the dull light of indoors on a wet day. Through the arch showed the gleam of soft green leaves and white blossoms. They stepped forward quite happily. Even Jane felt that this did not look like lions, and her hand hardly trembled at all as she held the charm for the others to go through. And last slipped through herself and hung the charm. Now grown small again round her neck. The children found themselves under a white blossomed green leafed fruit tree. In what seemed to be an orchard of such trees all white flowered and green foliageed. Among the long green grass under their feet grew crocuses and lilies, and strange blue flowers. In the branches overhead thrushes and blackbirds were singing, and the coo of the pigeon came softly to them in the green quietness of the orchard. Oh how perfectly lovely! cried Antia. Why it's like home exactly. I'm in England. Only everything's bluer and whiter and greener, and the flowers are bigger. The boys owned that it certainly was fairly decent, and even Jane admitted that it was all very pretty. I'm certain there's nothing to be frightened of here, said Antia. I don't know, said Jane. I suppose the fruit trees go on just the same, even when people are killing each other. I didn't have like what the learned gentleman said about the hanging gardens. I suppose they have gardens on purpose to hang people in. I do hope this isn't one. Of course it isn't, said Cyril. The hanging gardens are just gardens hung up. I think on chains between houses don't you know like trays. Come on let's get somewhere. They began to walk through the cool grass. As far as they could see there was nothing but trees, and trees and more trees. At the end of their orchard was another one only separated from theirs by a little stream of clear water. They jumped this and went on. Cyril, who was fond of gardening, which meant that he liked to watch the gardener at work, was able to command the respect of the others by telling them the names of a good many trees. Now there were nut trees and almond trees and apricots, and fig trees were their big five-fingered leaves. And every now and then the children had to cross another brook. It's like between the squares and through the looking-glass, said Antia. At last they came to an orchard which is quite different from the other orchards. It had a low building in one corner. These are vines, said Cyril, superiorly. And I know this is a vineyard. I shouldn't wonder if there was a wine-press inside that place over there. At last they got out of the orchards and onto a sort of road. Very rough, and not at all like the roads you were used to. It had cypress trees and acacia trees along it, and a sort of hedge of tamarisks, like those you see on the road between Nice and Cannes, or near Littlehampton, if you've only been as far as that. And now in front of them there could see a great mass of buildings. There were scattered houses of wood and stone here and there among green orchards, and beyond these a great wall that shone red in the early morning sun. The wall was enormously high, more than half the height of St. Paul's. And in the wall were set enormous gates that shone like gold as the rising sun beat on them. Each gate had a solid square tower on each side of it that stood out from the wall and rose above it. Beyond the wall were more towers and houses, gleaming with gold and bright colours. A way to the left round the steel-blue swirl of a great river, and the children could see, through a gap in the trees, that the river flowed out from the town under a great arch in the wall. Those feathery things along by the water are palms, said Cyril instructively. Oh yes, you know everything, Robert replied. What's all that grey-green stuff you see over there where it's all flasks and sandy? All right, said Cyril loftily. I don't want to tell you anything. I only thought you'd like to know a palm tree when you saw it again. Look, cried Anthea, they're opening the gates. And indeed the great gates swung back with a brazen clang, and instantly a little crowd of a dozen or more people came out and along the road towards them. The children, with one accord, crouched behind the tamerous cage. I don't like the sound of those gates, said Jane. Fancy being inside when they shut. You'd never get out. You've got an arch of your own to go out by. The same I put its head out of the basket to remind her. Don't behave so like a girl. If I were you, I should just march right into the town and ask to see the king. There was something as one simple and grand about this idea, and it pleased everyone. So when the work people had passed, they were work people, the children felt sure, because they were dressed so plainly, just one long blue shirt thing, of blue or yellow. The four children marched boldly up to the brazen gate between the towers. The arch above the gate was quite a tunnel the walls were so thick. Courage, said Cyril, step out, it's no use trying to sneak past, be bold. Robert answered this appeal by unexpectedly bursting into the British Grenadiers, and to its quick step they approached the gates of Babylon. Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules, of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these. This brought them to the threshold of the gate, and two men in bright armour suddenly barred their way with crossed spears. Who goes there? they said. I think I must have explained to you before now how it was that the children were always able to understand the language of any place they might happen to be in, and to be themselves understood. If not, I have no time to explain it now. We come from very far, said Cyril mechanically, from the empire where the sun never sets, and we want to see your king. If it's quite convenient, amended Anthea. The king, may he live forever, said the gatekeeper, is gone to fetch home his fourteenth wife. Where on earth have you come from not to know that? The queen then, said Anthea hurriedly, not taking any notice of the question as to where they had come from. The queen, said the gatekeeper, may she live forever, gives audience today three hours after sun rising. But what are we to do till the end of the three hours? asked Cyril. The gatekeeper seemed neither to know nor to care. He appeared less interested in them, and then they could have thought possible. But the man who'd crossed spears with him to bar the children's way was more human. Let them go in and look about them, he said. Oh, I'll wager my best sword. They've never seen anything to come near our little village. He said it in the tone people use for when they call the Atlantic Ocean the herring pond. And the gatekeeper hesitated. They're only children after all, said the other, who had children of his own. Let me offer a few minutes, Captain, and I'll take them to my place, and see if my good woman can't fit them up in something a little less outlandish than their present rig. Then they can have a look around without being mobbed. May I go? Oh, yes, if you like. Said the captain. And, well, don't be all day. The man led them through the dark arch into the town. And it was very different from London. For one thing, everything in London seems to be patched up out of odds and ends. But these houses seem to have been built by people who like the same sort of things. Not that they were all alike. For though all were squarish, they were of different sizes, and decorated in all sorts of different ways. Some with paintings in bright colours, some with black and silver designs. There were terraces and gardens and balconies, and to open spaces were trees. Their guide took them to a little house in a back street, where a kind-faced woman sat spinning at the door of a very dark room. Here, he said, Just lend these children a mantle each, so they can go back and see the place till the Queen's audience begins. You leave that wool for a bit, and show them round if you like. I must be off now! The woman did as she was told, and the four children, wrapped in fringed mantles, went with her all about the town, and oh, how I wish I had time to tell you all that they saw! It was all so wonderfully different from anything you have ever seen! For one thing, all the houses were dazzlingly bright, and many of them covered with pictures. Some and great creatures carved in stone as either side of the door. Then the people! There were no black frock coats and tall hats, no dingy coats and skirts of good, useful, ugly stuffs warranted to wear. Everyone's clothes were bright and beautiful, with blue and scarlet and green and gold! The market was brighter than you could think anything could be! There were stalls for everything you could possibly want, and for a great many things that if you wanted here and now, want would be your master! There were pineapples and peaches in heaps, and stalls of crockery and glass things, beautiful shapes and glorious colours! There were stalls for necklaces and clasps and bracelets and brooches for woven stuffs and furs and a broidered linen! The children had never seen half so many things together, even at liberties! It seemed no time at all before the woman said, it's nearly time now, we ought to be getting on towards the palace! It's as well to be early! So they went to the palace, and when they got there, it was more splendid than anything they had seen yet! For it was glowing with colours, and with gold and silver and black and white, like some magnificent embroidery! Flight after flight of broad marble steps led up to it, and at the edges of the stairs stood great images, twenty times as big as a man, images of men with wings like chain armour, and hawks' heads and winged men with the heads of dogs! And there were the statues of great kings! Between the flights of steps were terraces where fountains played, and the queen's guard in white and scarlet and armour that shone like gold stood by two's lining the way up the stairs, and a great body of them was masked by the vast door of the palace itself, where it stood glittering like an impossibly radiant peacock in the noonday sun! All sorts of people were passing up the steps to seek audience of the queen! Ladies in richly embroidered dresses with fringy flounces, poor folks in plain and simple clothes, dandies with beards oiled and curled, and Cyril, Robert, Anthea and Jane went with the crowd. At the gate of the palace the Samyad put one eye cautiously out of the basket and whispered, I can't be bothered, your queens, I'll go home with this lady. I'm sure she'll get me some sand, if you ask her to. Oh, don't leave us! said Jane. The woman was giving some last instructions in court etiquette to Anthea, and did not hear Jane. Don't be a little muff! said the Samyad quite fiercely. It's not a bit of good, you're having a charm. You'll never use it. If you want me, you've only got to say the name of power, and ask the charm to bring me to you. I'd rather go with you, said Jane, and it was the most surprising thing she had ever said in her life. Everyone opened its mouth without thinking of manners, and Anthea, who was peeping into the Samyad's basket, saw that its mouth opened wider than anybody's. You needn't go up like that, Jane went on. I'm not going to be bothered with queens any more than it is, and I know, wherever it is, it'll take jolly good care that it's safe. She's right there, said everyone. For they had observed that the Samyad had a way of knowing which side its bread was buttered. She turned to the woman and said, You'll take me home with you, won't you? And let me play with your little girls till the others have done with the queen. Surely I will, little heart, said the woman, and then Anthea hurriedly stroked the Samyad and embraced Jane, who took the woman's hand, and trotted contentedly away with the Samyad's bag under the other arm. The other stood looking after her, till she, the woman, and the basket, were lost in the manny-coloured crowd. Then Anthea turned once more to the palace's magnificent doorway, and said, Bless us the porter to take care of our Babylonian overcoats. So they took off the garments that the woman had lent them, and stood amid the jostling petitioners of the queen and their own English frocks and coats and hats and boots. We won't see the queen, said Cyril. We come from the far empire where the sun never sets. A murmur of surprise and a thrill of excitement ran to the crowd. The door porter spoke to a black man, he spoke to someone else. There was a whispering, waiting pause. Then a big man, with a cleanly shaven face, beckoned them from the top of a flight of red marble steps. They went up. The boots of Robert clattering more than usual, because he was so nervous. The door swung open, a curtain was drawn back. A double line of bowing forms and gorgeous rain-ment formed a lane that led to the steps of the throne. And as the children advanced hurriedly, there came from the throne a voice very sweet and kind. Three children from the land where the sun never sets. Let them draw hither without fear. In another minute they were kneeling at the throne's foot, saying, Oh Queen, live forever! Exactly as the woman had taught them. And a splendid dream lady, all gold and silver and jewels and snowy drift of veils, was raising Anthea and saying, Don't be frightened. I really am so glad you came. The land where the sun never sets. I am delighted to see you. I was getting quite too dreadfully bored for anything. And behind Anthea the kneeling zero whispered in the ears of the respectful Robert. Bob's, don't say anything to Panther. It's no use upsetting her, but we didn't ask for Jane's address and the Samyads with her. Well, whispered Robert, the charm can bring them to us at any moment. It said so. Oh yes, whispered Cyril in miserable derision. We're all right, of course. So we are. Oh yes, if we'd only got the charm. Then Robert saw, and he murmured, Crikey, at the foot of the throne of Babylon, where Cyril hoarsely whispered the plain English fact. Jane's got the charm around her neck, you silly cuckoo. Crikey, Robert repeated in heartbroken undertones. End of chapter six, Recording by Porick