“There was a council held that night,” said the soldier. “All the great men together in the high hall in Galing, so as it was a heaven to see. I was one of their cupbearers, ’cause I’d killed the standard-bearer of the Witches, in that same battle below Galing. Methought ’twas no great thing I did; till after the battle, look you, my Lord’s self standing beside me; and saith he, ‘Arnod’ (ay, by my name, father), ‘Arnod,’ a saith, ‘thou’st done down the pennon o’ Witchland that ’gainst our freedom streamed so proud. ’Tis thy like shall best stead Demonland i’ these dog-days,’ saith he. ‘Bear my cup to-night, for thine honour.’ I would, lass, thou’dst seen his eyes that tide. ’Tis a lord to put marrow in the sword-arm, our Lord. “They had forth the great map o’ the world, of this Demonland, to study their business. I was by, pouring the wine, and I heard their disputations. ’Tis a wondrous map wrought in crystal and bronze, most artificial, with waters a-glistering and mountains standing substantial to the touch. My Lord points with’s sword. ‘Here,’ a saith, ‘standeth Corinius, by all sure tellings, and budgeth not from Krothering. And, by the Gods,’ a saith, ‘’tis a wise disposition. For, mark, if we go by Gashterndale, as go we must to come at him, he striketh down on us as hammer on anvil. And if we will pass by toward the head of Thunderfirth,’ and here a pointeth it out with’s sword, ‘Down a cometh on our flank; and every-gate the land’s slope serveth his turn and fighteth against us.’ “I mind me o’ those words,” said the young man, “’cause my Lord Brandoch Daha laughed and said, ‘Are we grown so strange by our travels, our own land fighteth o’ the opposite party? Let me study it again.’ “I filled his cup. Dear Gods, but I’d fill him a bowl of mine own heart’s blood if he required it of me, after our times together, father. But more o’ that anon. The stoutest gentleman and captain without peer. “But Lord Spitfire, that was this while vaunting up and down the chamber, cried out and said, ‘’Twere folly to travel his road prepared us. Take him o’ that side he looketh least to see us: south through the mountains, and upon him in his rear up from Mardardale.’ “‘Ah,’ saith my Lord, ‘and be pressed back into Murkdale Hags if we miss of our first spring. ’Tis too perilous. ’Tis worse than Gashterndale.’ “So went it: a nay for every yea, and nought to please ’em. Till i’ the end my Lord Brandoch Daha, that had been long time busy with the map, said: ‘Now that y’ have threshed the whole stack and found not the needle, I will show you my rede, ’cause ye shall not say I counselled you rashly.’