Idonia: A Romance of Old LondonWallis, Arthur Frederick
History
Idonia: A Romance of Old London
Wallis, Arthur Frederick
Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
"Ay," he said, nodding, the while he regarded me with a strange look of
the eyes, "but subject to the judges' convenience, I would have said.
Will you return by Lady Day, think you?"
"Why, that is four months distant," I cried, for his question had
something startled me. "I shall surely be safe home in half that time."
But Simon shook his head. "Since I first heard of this errand," he
said, "the thought of it hath never left me, sleeping nor waking, Mr.
Denis. And as there be some things that every man may tell certainly
that they will happen, as the seasons to pass in due order, and the red
deer to come down to the pools in the evening, and the sun to set and
rise; so there be other things, though not in the rule of nature, which
a man may yet discern that hath bent his will that way. So did that
knight who, in a dream, saw strange and way-worn men bringing tribute
to Arthur from the Islands of Greece, which was not then, but was
certainly to be, and now in these days we shall see the same; ay,
Arthur receiving tribute from all the nations and not Greece only, and
everywhere triumphing."
I sat suspended in amaze while he spoke thus, his dark eyes sparkling
and his fingers straitly interlaced. It was a mood he had never before
revealed, though he had often, as I have said, told me tales of his old
heroes and wizards, but not with this stress of fervour and (as it
were) prophetic sureness. Such power as he manifested in his words
surely confounds distinctions of rank and erases the badge of servant.
For there may be no mastery over them that can convince our souls, as
this Welsh lad convinced mine.
When he spoke again, it was with some shame in his voice, as though he
had betrayed his secret mind and feared my laughter; which had he known
it, he need by no means have done.
"My meaning is," he went on, "that I feel this adventure which you set
about will continue longer than you imagine, Mr. Denis, though I have
no proof thereof; at least, none I may put into words; and you may well
deride the notion. Notwithstanding, it sticks with me that you will
not return to the Combe Court until many a strange accident shall have
befallen, of which we be now ignorant."
"Why, however long it be, Simon," said I cheerily, for I wished to
lighten our conversation somewhat, "you may rest well-assured of my
remembrance of you, and that though I wander as far forth as to those
same Islands of Greece you spake of, yet shall my affections draw me
home again."
He leapt to his feet at that, with an apparent gladness that warmed me
marvellously, though 'twas but a frolic sentence I had made, and spoken
smiling. So do we often probe into the future with a jest, and, as it
were, speak the fool's prologue to our own tragedy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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