Fantasy fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Fiction; Space and time -- Fiction
'An' old,' Tom went on. 'Flesh an' Blood have been there since Time
Everlastin' Beyond. Well, now, speakin' among themselves, the Marsh
men say that from Time Everlastin' Beyond, the Pharisees favoured the
Marsh above the rest of Old England. I lay the Marsh men ought to
know. They've been out after dark, father an' son, smugglin' some one
thing or t'other, since ever wool grew to sheep's backs. They say
there was always a middlin' few Pharisees to be seen on the Marsh.
Impident as rabbits, they was. They'd dance on the nakid roads in the
nakid daytime; they'd flash their liddle green lights along the diks,
comin' an' goin', like honest smugglers. Yes, an' times they'd lock
the church doors against parson an' clerk of Sundays.'
'That 'ud be smugglers layin' in the lace or the brandy till they could
run it out o' the Marsh. I've told my woman so,' said Hobden.
'I'll lay she didn't belieft it, then--not if she was a Whitgift. A
won'erful choice place for Pharisees, the Marsh, by all accounts, till
Queen Bess's father he come in with his Reformatories.'
'Would that be a Act of Parliament like?' Hobden asked.
'Sure-ly. Can't do nothing in Old England without Act, Warrant an'
Summons. He got his Act allowed him, an', they say, Queen Bess's
father he used the parish churches something shameful. Just about tore
the gizzards out of I dunnamany. Some folk in England they held with
'en; but some they saw it different, an' it eended in 'em takin' sides
an' burnin' each other no bounds, accordin' which side was top, time
bein'. That tarrified the Pharisees: for Goodwill among Flesh an'
Blood is meat an' drink to 'em, an' ill-will is poison.'
'Same as bees,' said the Bee Boy. 'Bees won't stay by a house where
there's hating.'
'True,' said Tom. 'This Reformatories tarrified the Pharisees same as
the reaper goin' round a last stand o' wheat tarrifies rabbits. They
packed into the Marsh from all parts, and they says, "Fair or foul, we
must flit out o' this, for Merry England's done with, an' we're
reckoned among the Images."'
'Did they all see it that way?' said Hobden.
'All but one that was called Robin--if you've heard of him. What are
you laughin' at?'Tom turned to Dan. 'The Pharisees's trouble didn't
tech Robin, because he'd cleaved middlin' close to people, like. No
more he never meant to go out of Old England--not he; so he was sent
messagin' for help among Flesh an' Blood. But Flesh an' Blood must
always think of their own concerns, an' Robin couldn't get through at
'em, ye see. They thought it was tide-echoes off the Marsh.'
'What did you--what did the fai--Pharisees want?' Una asked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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