Chapter XXIII. The Silver Horn

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　During the next week, which they spent in journeying towardsVienna, they gave the Sign to three different persons at placeswhich were on the way. In a village across the frontier inBavaria they found a giant of an old man sitting on a bench undera tree before his mountain "Gasthaus" or inn; and when the fourwords were uttered, he stood up and bared his head as the guidehad done. When Marco gave the Sign in some quiet place to a manwho was alone, he noticed that they all did this and said their"God be thanked" devoutly, as if it were part of some religiousceremony. In a small town a few miles away he had to search somehours before he found a stalwart young shoemaker with brightred hair and a horseshoe-shaped scar on his forehead. He was notin his workshop when the boys first passed it, because, as theyfound out later, he had been climbing a mountain the day before,and had been detained in the descent because his companion hadhurt himself.When Marco went in and asked him to measure him for a pair ofshoes, he was quite friendly and told them all about it."There are some good fellows who should not climb," he said."When they find themselves standing on a bit of rock jutting outover emptiness, their heads begin to whirl round--and then, ifthey don't turn head over heels a few thousand feet, it isbecause some comrade is near enough to drag them back. There canbe no ceremony then and they sometimes get hurt--as my friend didyesterday.""Did you never get hurt yourself?" The Rat asked."When I was eight years old I did that," said the youngshoemaker, touching the scar on his forehead. "But it was notmuch. My father was a guide and took me with him. He wanted meto begin early. There is nothing like it--climbing. I shall beat it again. This won't do for me. I tried shoemaking because Iwas in love with a girl who wanted me to stay at home. Shemarried another man. I am glad of it. Once a guide, always aguide." He knelt down to measure Marco's foot, and Marco bent alittle forward."The Lamp is lighted," he said.There was no one in the shop, but the door was open and peoplewere passing in the narrow street; so the shoemaker did not lifthis red head. He went on measuring."God be thanked!" he said, in a low voice. "Do you want theseshoes really, or did you only want me to take your measure?""I cannot wait until they are made," Marco answered. "I mustgo on.""Yes, you must go on," answered the shoemaker. "But I'll tellyou what I'll do--I'll make them and keep them. Some great daymight come when I shall show them to people and swagger aboutthem." He glanced round cautiously, and then ended, stillbending over his measuring. "They will be called the shoes ofthe Bearer of the Sign. And I shall say, `He was only a lad.This was the size of his foot.' " Then he stood up with a greatsmile."There'll be climbing enough to be done now," he said, "and Ilook to see you again somewhere."When the boys went away, they talked it over."The hair-dresser didn't want to be a hair-dresser, and theshoemaker didn't want to make shoes," said The Rat. "They bothwanted to be mountain-climbers. There are mountains in Samaviaand mountains on the way to it. You showed them to me on themap."Yes; and secret messengers who can climb anywhere, and crossdangerous places, and reconnoiter from points no one else canreach, can find out things and give signals other men cannot,"said Marco."That's what I thought out," The Rat answered. "That was whathe meant when he said, `There will be climbing enough to be donenow.' "Strange were the places they went to and curiously unlike eachother were the people to whom they carried their message. Themost singular of all was an old woman who lived in so remote aplace that the road which wound round and round the mountain,wound round it for miles and miles. It was not a bad road and itwas an amazing one to travel, dragged in a small cart by a mule,when one could be dragged, and clambering slowly with restsbetween when one could not: the tree-covered precipices onelooked down, the tossing whiteness of waterfalls, or the greenfoaming of rushing streams, and the immensity of farm- andvillage- scattered plains spreading themselves to the feet ofother mountains shutting them in were breath-taking beauties tolook down on, as the road mounted and wound round and round andhigher and higher."How can any one live higher than this?" said The Rat as theysat on the thick moss by the wayside after the mule and cart hadleft them. "Look at the bare crags looming up above there. Letus look at her again. Her picture looked as if she were ahundred years old."Marco took out his hidden sketch. It seemed surely one of thestrangest things in the world that a creature as old as this oneseemed could reach such a place, or, having reached it, couldever descend to the world again to give aid to any person orthing.Her old face was crossed and recrossed with a thousand wrinkles.Her profile was splendid yet and she had been a beauty in herday. Her eyes were like an eagle's--and not an old eagle's. Andshe had a long neck which held her old head high."How could she get here?" exclaimed The Rat."Those who sent us know, though we don't," said Marco. "Willyou sit here and rest while I go on further?""No!" The Rat answered stubbornly. "I didn't train myself tostay behind. But we shall come to bare-rock climbing soon andthen I shall be obliged to stop," and he said the last bitterly.He knew that, if Marco had come alone, he would have ridden in nocart but would have trudged upward and onward sturdily to the endof his journey.But they did not reach the crags, as they had thought must beinevitable. Suddenly half-way to the sky, as it seemed, theycame to a bend in the road and found themselves mounting into anew green world--an astonishing marvel of a world, with greenvelvet slopes and soft meadows and thick woodland, and cowsfeeding in velvet pastures, and--as if it had been snowed downfrom the huge bare mountain crags which still soared above intoheaven-- a mysterious, ancient, huddled village which, being thussnowed down, might have caught among the rocks and rested therethrough all time.There it stood. There it huddled itself. And the monsters inthe blue above it themselves looked down upon it as if it were anincredible thing--this ancient, steep-roofed, hanging-balconied,crumbling cluster of human nests, which seemed a thousand milesfrom the world. Marco and The Rat stood and stared at it. Thenthey sat down and stared at it."How did it get here?" The Rat cried.Marco shook his head. He certainly could see no explanation ofits being there. Perhaps some of the oldest villages could tellstories of how its first chalets had gathered themselvestogether.An old peasant driving a cow came down a steep path. He lookedwith a dull curiosity at The Rat and his crutches; but when Marcoadvanced and spoke to him in German, he did not seem tounderstand, but shook his head saying something in a sort ofdialect Marco did not know."If they all speak like that, we shall have to make signs whenwe want to ask anything," The Rat said. "What will shespeak?""She will know the German for the Sign or we should not havebeen sent here," answered Marco. "Come on."They made their way to the village, which huddled itself togetherevidently with the object of keeping itself warm when through thewinter months the snows strove to bury it and the winds roareddown from the huge mountain crags and tried to tear it from amongits rocks. The doors and windows were few and small, andglimpses of the inside of the houses showed earthen floors anddark rooms. It was plain that it was counted a more comfortablething to live without light than to let in the cold.It was easy enough to reconnoiter. The few people they saw wereevidently not surprised that strangers who discovered theirunexpected existence should be curious and want to look at themand their houses.The boys wandered about as if they were casual explorers, whohaving reached the place by chance were interested in all theysaw. They went into the little Gasthaus and got some black breadand sausage and some milk. The mountaineer owner was a brawnyfellow who understood some German. He told them that fewstrangers knew of the village but that bold hunters and climberscame for sport. In the forests on the mountain sides were bearsand, in the high places, chamois. Now and again, some greatgentlemen came with parties of the daring kind--very greatgentlemen indeed, he said, shaking his head with pride. Therewas one who had castles in other mountains, but he liked best tocome here. Marco began to wonder if several strange things mightnot be true if great gentlemen sometimes climbed to themysterious place. But he had not been sent to give the Sign to agreat gentleman. He had been sent to give it to an old womanwith eyes like an eagle which was young.He had a sketch in his sleeve, with that of her face, of hersteep-roofed, black-beamed, balconied house. If they walkedabout a little, they would be sure to come upon it in this tinyplace. Then he could go in and ask her for a drink of water.They roamed about for an hour after they left the Gasthaus. Theywent into the little church and looked at the graveyard andwondered if it was not buried out of all sight in the winter.After they had done this, they sauntered out and walked throughthe huddled clusters of houses, examining each one as they drewnear it and passed."I see it!" The Rat exclaimed at last. "It is that very old-looking one standing a little way from the rest. It is not astumbled down as most of them. And there are some red flowers onthe balcony.""Yes! That's it!" said Marco.They walked up to the low black door and, as he stopped on thethreshold, Marco took off his cap. He did this because, sittingin the doorway on a low wooden chair, the old, old woman with theeagle eyes was sitting knitting.There was no one else in the room and no one anywhere withinsight. When the old, old woman looked up at him with her youngeagle's eyes, holding her head high on her long neck, Marco knewhe need not ask for water or for anything else."The Lamp is lighted," he said, in his low but strong and clearyoung voice.She dropped her knitting upon her knees and gazed at him a momentin silence. She knew German it was clear, for it was in Germanshe answered him."God be thanked!" she said. "Come in, young Bearer of theSign, and bring your friend in with you. I live alone and not asoul is within hearing."She was a wonderful old woman. Neither Marco nor The Rat wouldlive long enough to forget the hours they spent in her strangedark house. She kept them and made them spend the night withher."It is quite safe," she said. "I live alone since my man fellinto the crevasse and was killed because his rope broke when hewas trying to save his comrade. So I have two rooms to spare andsometimes climbers are glad to sleep in them. Mine is a goodwarm house and I am well known in the village. You are veryyoung," she added shaking her head. "You are very young. Youmust have good blood in your veins to be trusted with this.""I have my father's blood," answered Marco."You are like some one I once saw," the old woman said, and hereagle eyes set themselves hard upon him. "Tell me your name."There was no reason why he should not tell it to her."It is Marco Loristan," he said."What! It is that!" she cried out, not loud but low.To Marco's amazement she got up from her chair and stood beforehim, showing what a tall old woman she really was. There was astartled, even an agitated, look in her face. And suddenly sheactually made a sort of curtsey to him--bending her knee aspeasants do when they pass a shrine."It is that!" she said again. "And yet they dare let you goon a journey like this! That speaks for your courage and fortheirs."But Marco did not know what she meant. Her strange obeisancemade him feel awkward. He stood up because his training had toldhim that when a woman stands a man also rises."The name speaks for the courage," he said, "because it is myfather's."She watched him almost anxiously."You do not even know!" she breathed--and it was an exclamationand not a question."I know what I have been told to do," he answered. "I do notask anything else.""Who is that?" she asked, pointing to The Rat."He is the friend my father sent with me," said Marco smiling."He called him my aide-de-camp. It was a sort of joke becausewe had played soldiers together."It seemed as if she were obliged to collect her thoughts. Shestood with her hand at her mouth, looking down at the earthfloor."God guard you!" she said at last. "You are very--veryyoung!""But all his years," The Rat broke in, "he has been intraining for just this thing. He did not know it was training,but it was. A soldier who had been trained for thirteen yearswould know his work."He was so eager that he forgot she could not understand English.Marco translated what he said into German and added: "What hesays is true."She nodded her head, still with questioning and anxious eyes."Yes. Yes," she muttered. "But you are very young." Thenshe asked in a hesitating way:"Will you not sit down until I do?""No," answered Marco. "I would not sit while my mother orgrandmother stood.""Then I must sit--and forget," she said.She passed her hand over her face as though she were sweepingaway the sudden puzzled trouble in her expression. Then she satdown, as if she had obliged herself to become again the oldpeasant she had been when they entered."All the way up the mountain you wondered why an old womanshould be given the Sign," she said. "You asked each other howshe could be of use."Neither Marco nor The Rat said anything."When I was young and fresh," she went on. "I went to acastle over the frontier to be foster-mother to a child who wasborn a great noble--one who was near the throne. He loved me andI loved him. He was a strong child and he grew up a great hunterand climber. When he was not ten years old, my man taught him toclimb. He always loved these mountains better than his own. Hecomes to see me as if he were only a young mountaineer. Hesleeps in the room there," with a gesture over her shoulder intothe darkness. "He has great power and, if he chooses to do athing, he will do it--just as he will attack the biggest bear orclimb the most dangerous peak. He is one who can bring thingsabout. It is very safe to talk in this room."Then all was quite clear. Marco and The Rat understood.No more was said about the Sign. It had been given and that wasenough. The old woman told them that they must sleep in one ofher bedrooms. The next morning one of her neighbors was goingdown to the valley with a cart and he would help them on theirway. The Rat knew that she was thinking of his crutches and hebecame restless."Tell her," he said to Marco, "how I have trained myself untilI can do what any one else can. And tell her I am growingstronger every day. Tell her I'll show her what I can do. Yourfather wouldn't have let me come as your aide if I hadn't provedto him that I wasn't a cripple. Tell her. She thinks I'm nouse."Marco explained and the old woman listened attentively. When TheRat got up and swung himself about up and down the steep pathnear her house she seemed relieved. His extraordinary dexterityand firm swiftness evidently amazed her and gave her a confidenceshe had not felt at first."If he has taught himself to be like that just for love of yourfather, he will go to the end," she said. "It is more than onecould believe, that a pair of crutches could do such things."The Rat was pacified and could afterwards give himself up towatching her as closely as he wished to. He was soon "workingout" certain things in his mind. What he watched was her way ofwatching Marco. It was as if she were fascinated and could notkeep her eyes from him. She told them stories about themountains and the strangers who came to climb with guides or tohunt. She told them about the storms, which sometimes seemedabout to put an end to the little world among the crags. Shedescribed the winter when the snow buried them and the strongones were forced to dig out the weak and some lived for daysunder the masses of soft whiteness, glad to keep their cows orgoats in their rooms that they might share the warmth of theirbodies. The villages were forced to be good neighbors to eachother, for the man who was not ready to dig out a hidden chimneyor buried door to-day might be left to freeze and starve in hissnow tomb next week. Through the worst part of the winter nocreature from the world below could make way to them to find outwhether they were all dead or alive.While she talked, she watched Marco as if she were always askingherself some question about him. The Rat was sure that she likedhim and greatly admired his strong body and good looks. It wasnot necessary for him to carry himself slouchingly in herpresence and he looked glowing and noble. There was a sort ofreverence in her manner when she spoke to him. She reminded himof Lazarus more than once. When she gave them their eveningmeal, she insisted on waiting on him with a certain respectfulceremony. She would not sit at table with him, and The Rat beganto realize that she felt that he himself should be standing toserve him."She thinks I ought to stand behind your chair as Lazarus standsbehind your father's," he said to Marco. "Perhaps an aideought to do it. Shall I? I believe it would please her.""A Bearer of the Sign is not a royal person," answered Marco."My father would not like it--and I should not. We are only twoboys."It was very wonderful when, after their supper was over, they allthree sat together before the fire.The red glow of the bed of wood-coal and the orange yellow of theflame from the big logs filled the room with warm light, whichmade a mellow background for the figure of the old woman as shesat in her low chair and told them more and more enthrallingstories.Her eagle eyes glowed and her long neck held her head splendidlyhigh as she described great feats of courage and endurance oralmost superhuman daring in aiding those in awesome peril, and,when she glowed most in the telling, they always knew that thehero of the adventure had been her foster-child who was the babyborn a great noble and near the throne. To her, he was the mostsplendid and adorable of human beings. Almost an emperor, but sowarm and tender of heart that he never forgot the long- past dayswhen she had held him on her knee and told him tales of chamois-and bear-hunting, and of the mountain-tops in mid- winter. Hewas her sun-god."Yes! Yes!" she said. " `Good Mother,' he calls me. And Ibake him a cake on the hearth, as I did when he was ten years oldand my man was teaching him to climb. And when he chooses that athing shall be done--done it is! He is a great lord."The flames had died down and only the big bed of red coal madethe room glow, and they were thinking of going to bed when theold woman started very suddenly, turning her head as if tolisten.Marco and The Rat heard nothing, but they saw that she did andthey sat so still that each held his breath. So there was utterstillness for a few moments. Utter stillness.Then they did hear something--a clear silver sound, piercing thepure mountain air.The old woman sprang upright with the fire of delight in hereyes."It is his silver horn!" she cried out striking her handstogether. "It is his own call to me when he is coming. He hasbeen hunting somewhere and wants to sleep in his good bed here.Help me to put on more faggots," to The Rat, "so that he willsee the flame of them through the open door as he comes.""Shall we be in the way?" said Marco. "We can go at once."She was going towards the door to open it and she stopped amoment and turned."No, no!" she said. "He must see your face. He will want tosee it. I want him to see--how young you are." She threw the door wide open and they heard the silver horn sendout its gay call again. The brushwood and faggots The Rat hadthrown on the coals crackled and sparkled and roared into fineflames, which cast their light into the road and threw out infine relief the old figure which stood on the threshold andlooked so tall.And in but a few minutes her great lord came to her. And in hisgreen hunting-suit with its green hat and eagle's feather he wasas splendid as she had said he was. He was big and royal-looking and laughing and he bent and kissed her as if he had beenher own son."Yes, good Mother," they heard him say. "I want my warm bedand one of your good suppers. I sent the others to theGasthaus."He came into the redly glowing room and his head almost touchedthe blackened rafters. Then he saw the two boys."Who are these, good Mother?" he asked.She lifted his hand and kissed it."They are the Bearers of the Sign," she said rather softly. "`The Lamp is lighted.' "Then his whole look changed. His laughing face became quitegrave and for a moment looked even anxious. Marco knew it wasbecause he was startled to find them only boys. He made a stepforward to look at them more closely."The Lamp is lighted! And you two bear the Sign!" heexclaimed. Marco stood out in the fire glow that he might seehim well. He saluted with respect."My name is Marco Loristan, Highness," he said. "And myfather sent me."The change which came upon his face then was even greater than atfirst. For a second, Marco even felt that there was a flash ofalarm in it. But almost at once that passed."Loristan is a great man and a great patriot," he said. "Ifhe sent you, it is because he knows you are the one safemessenger. He has worked too long for Samavia not to know whathe does."Marco saluted again. He knew what it was right to say next."If we have your Highness's permission to retire," he said,"we will leave you and go to bed. We go down the mountain atsunrise.""Where next?" asked the hunter, looking at him with curiousintentness."To Vienna, Highness," Marco answered.His questioner held out his hand, still with the intent interestin his eyes."Good night, fine lad," he said. "Samavia has need to vauntitself on its Sign-bearer. God go with you."He stood and watched him as he went toward the room in which heand his aide-de-camp were to sleep. The Rat followed himclosely. At the little back door the old, old woman stood,having opened it for them. As Marco passed and bade her goodnight, he saw that she again made the strange obeisance, bendingthe knee as he went by.