Part 7 (1/2)
”A lion pa.s.sant is one of the emblems in my own royal coat of arms!”
”Then, Your Majesty has not heard the tale of the Lion Pa.s.sant?” asked Harold, feigning surprise. ”It is one of the best known in our land. You will find your royal lion in the arms of our city of Derrydown; and there is a tale to account for that.”
Harold began to smile as if the memory of the tale pleased him.
Red Rex frowned. ”It is too late to hear that tale to-night,” he murmured.
”Yes, Your Majesty,” agreed Harold. ”Besides, I cannot tell it by heart.
I should have to get the book from our generous library. I can read it better; there is so much in the manner of the writing. It is a pity Your Majesty is in such a hurry to fight, or I might bring that book hither to-morrow and read you the pleasant tale.”
The Red King fidgeted. ”I am losing time at a terrible rate!” he growled. ”Think of what harm I might be doing! When have I wasted hours like this, you wheedling boy?”
”I do not think these hours are wasted. It is war that wastes,” said Harold.
”Fudge!” retorted Red Rex; ”we must have war. Was that lion a red lion, Harold?”
”A red lion, Your Majesty,” nodded Harold.
The Red King grew excited. ”I must, then, hear about him!” he cried. ”It is my duty.--What ho, there!” he shouted to his men who were making ready to continue the siege. ”I have changed my mind. We will not fight for another day. Take this boy back to the city, and proclaim continued truce until he returns to us.”
”Your Majesty is wise,” said Harold with s.h.i.+ning eyes. ”I think you will not be sorry to hear the tale of the Lion Pa.s.sant.”
So the crisis was delayed for another day; and Kisington blessed Harold.
They made a feast at the poor widow's cottage from presents sent by the Leading Citizens. Richard and Robert sat at the head of the table, one on each side of Harold, and all his other boy and girl friends sat down the sides of the table, and he told them all about his adventure with the besieging King. One and all begged him to let them go with him on the following day. But this, of course, Harold could not promise. He was the only one who could read well enough to charm the War-Lord. They all wished that they had learned to read as well as Harold.
When on the morrow Harold returned to the Red King, this is the story which he read from one of the peaceful books of Kisington--the story of _The Lion Pa.s.sant_.
X. THE LION Pa.s.sANT
A long time ago, in one of the narrowest side-streets of Kisington, stood an old curiosity shop, full of strange things. It was a dark little den inside, so dark that the outer suns.h.i.+ne made the old shopman blink as he stood in the doorway talking with the stranger. The stranger was a Medicine Man, and he had just sold a bottle of his famous Elixir of Life to the old shopkeeper.
”Yes, sir,” said the Medicine Man, as he turned to go, ”you will find my Magic Elixir all that I claim it to be. It will bring back youth and beauty to the aged. It will give sight to eyes that see not, hearing to deaf ears, speech to the tongue-tied and motion to limbs that have never moved before. It will also cure whooping-cough.”
”I hope so,” said the old man in an eager voice. He had heard only one word in six of the stranger's talk. ”I hope so, for I need it very much.
Shall I take it all at once, or--” But already the Medicine Man was halfway down the road, with the gold coin which the old man had given him safe in his deepest pocket. The old man returned into his shop, blinking more than ever, and stumbling over the piled-up rubbish as he went. It was an abominably crowded little room. Each corner, each shelf, each hook in wall or ceiling was occupied. Everything was piled high or filled up with something else.
In the midst of all kinds of curiosities, the Lion Pa.s.sant stood waiting. He had been waiting there so many years that the Old Curiosity Shop man had quite given up hope that any one would ever come for him.
The Lion was very old; older than the shop, older than the old man who kept it, older than anything else in the shop--and that was saying much.
The Lion was cobwebby and scarred; but, notwithstanding, he was a fine figure of a beast. He had been finely carved out of oak and colored a warm gules, though now somewhat faded. He was carved in the att.i.tude of marching along a parti-colored pole of gules and silver. His dexter paw was raised in the air, his red tongue hung out and his tail was curved gracefully over his back. There was something which I cannot exactly describe of grand and dignified about the Lion Pa.s.sant,--what the books call a ”decayed gentility.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: HE STOOD IN THE DOORWAY TALKING WITH THE STRANGER]
The old man stumbled and blinked his way toward the door at the rear of the shop. He was eager to try the Elixir of Life and become young again, and he hurried faster than was wise in the shadowy labyrinth. Just as he was opposite the Lion Pa.s.sant, he caught his foot in a sprawling chair and stumbled forward, with both arms stretched out to save himself. Away flew the bottle of Elixir, _smash_! against the head of the Lion Pa.s.sant.
The gla.s.s s.h.i.+vered into a thousand pieces, and the precious golden drops went trickling down over the carved beast, over the table, onto the floor, where it made a dusty pool about the feet of a cracked china cat.
”Oh, me! Oh, me!” groaned the old man. ”All my precious youth wasted, and no money left to buy more! Oh, me! What an unlucky day it is!” And he stumbled out to tell his wife all about it. Now, as soon as he had left the shop, strange things began to happen there.
”Marry, come up!” exclaimed the Lion, licking his red tongue. ”I am a-weary of this. My leg is asleep.” And he set down the dexter paw, which he had been holding in that position for four hundred years or more.
”Wow!” cried the China Cat from the floor. ”My cracks are growing together again! I believe I am as good as new!” And she arched her back and yawned.