<p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <SPAN name="c24" id="c24"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CHAPTER XXIV </h2>
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<p>A RIVAL MAGICIAN</p>
<p>My influence in the Valley of Holiness was something prodigious now.
It seemed worth while to try to turn it to some valuable account.
The thought came to me the next morning, and was suggested by my
seeing one of my knights who was in the soap line come riding in. According
to history, the monks of this place two centuries before had been worldly
minded enough to want to wash. It might be that there was a leaven of this
unrighteousness still remaining. So I sounded a Brother:</p>
<p>"Wouldn't you like a bath?"</p>
<p>He shuddered at the thought—the thought of the peril of it to the
well—but he said with feeling:</p>
<p>"One needs not to ask that of a poor body who has not known that blessed
refreshment sith that he was a boy. Would God I might wash me! but
it may not be, fair sir, tempt me not; it is forbidden."</p>
<p>And then he sighed in such a sorrowful way that I was resolved he should
have at least one layer of his real estate removed, if it sized up my
whole influence and bankrupted the pile. So I went to the abbot and
asked for a permit for this Brother. He blenched at the idea—I
don't mean that you could see him blench, for of course you couldn't see
it without you scraped him, and I didn't care enough about it to scrape
him, but I knew the blench was there, just the same, and within a
book-cover's thickness of the surface, too—blenched, and trembled.
He said:</p>
<p>"Ah, son, ask aught else thou wilt, and it is thine, and freely granted
out of a grateful heart—but this, oh, this! Would you drive
away the blessed water again?"</p>
<p>"No, Father, I will not drive it away. I have mysterious knowledge
which teaches me that there was an error that other time when it was
thought the institution of the bath banished the fountain." A large
interest began to show up in the old man's face. "My knowledge
informs me that the bath was innocent of that misfortune, which was caused
by quite another sort of sin."</p>
<p>"These are brave words—but—but right welcome, if they be
true."</p>
<p>"They are true, indeed. Let me build the bath again, Father. Let me
build it again, and the fountain shall flow forever."</p>
<p>"You promise this?—you promise it? Say the word—say you
promise it!"</p>
<p>"I do promise it."</p>
<p>"Then will I have the first bath myself! Go—get ye to your
work. Tarry not, tarry not, but go."</p>
<p>I and my boys were at work, straight off. The ruins of the old bath
were there yet in the basement of the monastery, not a stone missing.
They had been left just so, all these lifetimes, and avoided with a
pious fear, as things accursed. In two days we had it all done and
the water in—a spacious pool of clear pure water that a body could
swim in. It was running water, too. It came in, and went out,
through the ancient pipes. The old abbot kept his word, and was the
first to try it. He went down black and shaky, leaving the whole
black community above troubled and worried and full of bodings; but he
came back white and joyful, and the game was made! another triumph scored.</p>
<p>It was a good campaign that we made in that Valley of Holiness, and I was
very well satisfied, and ready to move on now, but I struck a
disappointment. I caught a heavy cold, and it started up an old
lurking rheumatism of mine. Of course the rheumatism hunted up my
weakest place and located itself there. This was the place where the
abbot put his arms about me and mashed me, what time he was moved to
testify his gratitude to me with an embrace.</p>
<p>When at last I got out, I was a shadow. But everybody was full of
attentions and kindnesses, and these brought cheer back into my life, and
were the right medicine to help a convalescent swiftly up toward health
and strength again; so I gained fast.</p>
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<p>Sandy was worn out with nursing; so I made up my mind to turn out and go a
cruise alone, leaving her at the nunnery to rest up. My idea was to
disguise myself as a freeman of peasant degree and wander through the
country a week or two on foot. This would give me a chance to eat
and lodge with the lowliest and poorest class of free citizens on equal
terms. There was no other way to inform myself perfectly of their
everyday life and the operation of the laws upon it. If I went among
them as a gentleman, there would be restraints and conventionalities which
would shut me out from their private joys and troubles, and I should get
no further than the outside shell.</p>
<p>One morning I was out on a long walk to get up muscle for my trip, and had
climbed the ridge which bordered the northern extremity of the valley,
when I came upon an artificial opening in the face of a low precipice, and
recognized it by its location as a hermitage which had often been pointed
out to me from a distance as the den of a hermit of high renown for dirt
and austerity. I knew he had lately been offered a situation in the
Great Sahara, where lions and sandflies made the hermit-life peculiarly
attractive and difficult, and had gone to Africa to take possession, so I
thought I would look in and see how the atmosphere of this den agreed with
its reputation.</p>
<p>My surprise was great: the place was newly swept and scoured. Then
there was another surprise. Back in the gloom of the cavern I heard
the clink of a little bell, and then this exclamation:</p>
<p>"Hello Central! Is this you, Camelot?—Behold, thou mayst glad
thy heart an thou hast faith to believe the wonderful when that it cometh
in unexpected guise and maketh itself manifest in impossible places—here
standeth in the flesh his mightiness The Boss, and with thine own ears
shall ye hear him speak!"</p>
<p>Now what a radical reversal of things this was; what a jumbling together
of extravagant incongruities; what a fantastic conjunction of opposites
and irreconcilables—the home of the bogus miracle become the home of
a real one, the den of a mediaeval hermit turned into a telephone office!</p>
<p>The telephone clerk stepped into the light, and I recognized one of my
young fellows. I said:</p>
<p>"How long has this office been established here, Ulfius?"</p>
<p>"But since midnight, fair Sir Boss, an it please you. We saw many
lights in the valley, and so judged it well to make a station, for that
where so many lights be needs must they indicate a town of goodly size."</p>
<p>"Quite right. It isn't a town in the customary sense, but it's a
good stand, anyway. Do you know where you are?"</p>
<p>"Of that I have had no time to make inquiry; for whenas my comradeship
moved hence upon their labors, leaving me in charge, I got me to needed
rest, purposing to inquire when I waked, and report the place's name to
Camelot for record."</p>
<p>"Well, this is the Valley of Holiness."</p>
<p>It didn't take; I mean, he didn't start at the name, as I had supposed he
would. He merely said:</p>
<p>"I will so report it."</p>
<p>"Why, the surrounding regions are filled with the noise of late wonders
that have happened here! You didn't hear of them?"</p>
<p>"Ah, ye will remember we move by night, and avoid speech with all. We
learn naught but that we get by the telephone from Camelot."</p>
<p>"Why <i>they</i> know all about this thing. Haven't they told you
anything about the great miracle of the restoration of a holy fountain?"</p>
<p>"Oh, <i>that</i> ? Indeed yes. But the name of <i>this</i>
valley doth woundily differ from the name of <i>that</i> one; indeed to
differ wider were not pos—"</p>
<p>"What was that name, then?"</p>
<p>"The Valley of Hellishness."</p>
<p>"<i>That</i> explains it. Confound a telephone, anyway. It is
the very demon for conveying similarities of sound that are miracles of
divergence from similarity of sense. But no matter, you know the
name of the place now. Call up Camelot."</p>
<p>He did it, and had Clarence sent for. It was good to hear my boy's
voice again. It was like being home. After some affectionate
interchanges, and some account of my late illness, I said:</p>
<p>"What is new?"</p>
<p>"The king and queen and many of the court do start even in this hour, to
go to your valley to pay pious homage to the waters ye have restored, and
cleanse themselves of sin, and see the place where the infernal spirit
spouted true hell-flames to the clouds—an ye listen sharply ye may
hear me wink and hear me likewise smile a smile, sith 'twas I that made
selection of those flames from out our stock and sent them by your order."</p>
<p>"Does the king know the way to this place?"</p>
<p>"The king?—no, nor to any other in his realms, mayhap; but the lads
that holp you with your miracle will be his guide and lead the way, and
appoint the places for rests at noons and sleeps at night."</p>
<p>"This will bring them here—when?"</p>
<p>"Mid-afternoon, or later, the third day."</p>
<p>"Anything else in the way of news?"</p>
<p>"The king hath begun the raising of the standing army ye suggested to him;
one regiment is complete and officered."</p>
<p>"The mischief! I wanted a main hand in that myself. There is
only one body of men in the kingdom that are fitted to officer a regular
army."</p>
<p>"Yes—and now ye will marvel to know there's not so much as one West
Pointer in that regiment."</p>
<p>"What are you talking about? Are you in earnest?"</p>
<p>"It is truly as I have said."</p>
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<p>"Why, this makes me uneasy. Who were chosen, and what was the
method? Competitive examination?"</p>
<p>"Indeed, I know naught of the method. I but know this—these
officers be all of noble family, and are born—what is it you call
it?—chuckleheads."</p>
<p>"There's something wrong, Clarence."</p>
<p>"Comfort yourself, then; for two candidates for a lieutenancy do travel
hence with the king—young nobles both—and if you but wait
where you are you will hear them questioned."</p>
<p>"That is news to the purpose. I will get one West Pointer in,
anyway. Mount a man and send him to that school with a message; let
him kill horses, if necessary, but he must be there before sunset to-night
and say—"</p>
<p>"There is no need. I have laid a ground wire to the school. Prithee
let me connect you with it."</p>
<p>It sounded good! In this atmosphere of telephones and lightning
communication with distant regions, I was breathing the breath of life
again after long suffocation. I realized, then, what a creepy, dull,
inanimate horror this land had been to me all these years, and how I had
been in such a stifled condition of mind as to have grown used to it
almost beyond the power to notice it.</p>
<p>I gave my order to the superintendent of the Academy personally. I also
asked him to bring me some paper and a fountain pen and a box or so of
safety matches. I was getting tired of doing without these
conveniences. I could have them now, as I wasn't going to wear armor
any more at present, and therefore could get at my pockets.</p>
<p>When I got back to the monastery, I found a thing of interest going on.
The abbot and his monks were assembled in the great hall, observing
with childish wonder and faith the performances of a new magician, a fresh
arrival. His dress was the extreme of the fantastic; as showy and
foolish as the sort of thing an Indian medicine-man wears. He was
mowing, and mumbling, and gesticulating, and drawing mystical figures in
the air and on the floor,—the regular thing, you know. He was
a celebrity from Asia—so he said, and that was enough. That
sort of evidence was as good as gold, and passed current everywhere.</p>
<p>How easy and cheap it was to be a great magician on this fellow's terms.
His specialty was to tell you what any individual on the face of the
globe was doing at the moment; and what he had done at any time in the
past, and what he would do at any time in the future. He asked if
any would like to know what the Emperor of the East was doing now? The
sparkling eyes and the delighted rubbing of hands made eloquent answer—this
reverend crowd <i>would</i> like to know what that monarch was at, just as
this moment. The fraud went through some more mummery, and then made
grave announcement:</p>
<p>"The high and mighty Emperor of the East doth at this moment put money in
the palm of a holy begging friar—one, two, three pieces, and they be
all of silver."</p>
<p>A buzz of admiring exclamations broke out, all around:</p>
<p>"It is marvelous!" "Wonderful!" "What study, what labor, to
have acquired a so amazing power as this!"</p>
<p>Would they like to know what the Supreme Lord of Inde was doing? Yes.
He told them what the Supreme Lord of Inde was doing. Then he
told them what the Sultan of Egypt was at; also what the King of the
Remote Seas was about. And so on and so on; and with each new marvel
the astonishment at his accuracy rose higher and higher. They thought he
must surely strike an uncertain place some time; but no, he never had to
hesitate, he always knew, and always with unerring precision. I saw
that if this thing went on I should lose my supremacy, this fellow would
capture my following, I should be left out in the cold. I must put a
cog in his wheel, and do it right away, too. I said:</p>
<p>"If I might ask, I should very greatly like to know what a certain person
is doing."</p>
<p>"Speak, and freely. I will tell you."</p>
<p>"It will be difficult—perhaps impossible."</p>
<p>"My art knoweth not that word. The more difficult it is, the more
certainly will I reveal it to you."</p>
<p>You see, I was working up the interest. It was getting pretty high,
too; you could see that by the craning necks all around, and the
half-suspended breathing. So now I climaxed it:</p>
<p>"If you make no mistake—if you tell me truly what I want to know—I
will give you two hundred silver pennies."</p>
<p>"The fortune is mine! I will tell you what you would know."</p>
<p>"Then tell me what I am doing with my right hand."</p>
<p>"Ah-h!" There was a general gasp of surprise. It had not
occurred to anybody in the crowd—that simple trick of inquiring
about somebody who wasn't ten thousand miles away. The magician was
hit hard; it was an emergency that had never happened in his experience
before, and it corked him; he didn't know how to meet it. He looked
stunned, confused; he couldn't say a word. "Come," I said, "what are
you waiting for? Is it possible you can answer up, right off, and
tell what anybody on the other side of the earth is doing, and yet can't
tell what a person is doing who isn't three yards from you? Persons
behind me know what I am doing with my right hand—they will indorse
you if you tell correctly." He was still dumb. "Very well,
I'll tell you why you don't speak up and tell; it is because you don't
know. <i>You</i> a magician! Good friends, this tramp is a
mere fraud and liar."</p>
<p>This distressed the monks and terrified them. They were not used to
hearing these awful beings called names, and they did not know what might
be the consequence. There was a dead silence now; superstitious
bodings were in every mind. The magician began to pull his wits
together, and when he presently smiled an easy, nonchalant smile, it
spread a mighty relief around; for it indicated that his mood was not
destructive. He said:</p>
<p>"It hath struck me speechless, the frivolity of this person's speech.
Let all know, if perchance there be any who know it not, that
enchanters of my degree deign not to concern themselves with the doings of
any but kings, princes, emperors, them that be born in the purple and them
only. Had ye asked me what Arthur the great king is doing, it were
another matter, and I had told ye; but the doings of a subject interest me
not."</p>
<p>"Oh, I misunderstood you. I thought you said 'anybody,' and so I
supposed 'anybody' included—well, anybody; that is, everybody."</p>
<p>"It doth—anybody that is of lofty birth; and the better if he be
royal."</p>
<p>"That, it meseemeth, might well be," said the abbot, who saw his
opportunity to smooth things and avert disaster, "for it were not likely
that so wonderful a gift as this would be conferred for the revelation of
the concerns of lesser beings than such as be born near to the summits of
greatness. Our Arthur the king—"</p>
<p>"Would you know of him?" broke in the enchanter.</p>
<p>"Most gladly, yea, and gratefully."</p>
<p>Everybody was full of awe and interest again right away, the incorrigible
idiots. They watched the incantations absorbingly, and looked at me
with a "There, now, what can you say to that?" air, when the announcement
came:</p>
<p>"The king is weary with the chase, and lieth in his palace these two hours
sleeping a dreamless sleep."</p>
<p>"God's benison upon him!" said the abbot, and crossed himself; "may that
sleep be to the refreshment of his body and his soul."</p>
<p>"And so it might be, if he were sleeping," I said, "but the king is not
sleeping, the king rides."</p>
<p>Here was trouble again—a conflict of authority. Nobody knew
which of us to believe; I still had some reputation left. The
magician's scorn was stirred, and he said:</p>
<p>"Lo, I have seen many wonderful soothsayers and prophets and magicians in
my life days, but none before that could sit idle and see to the heart of
things with never an incantation to help."</p>
<p>"You have lived in the woods, and lost much by it. I use
incantations myself, as this good brotherhood are aware—but only on
occasions of moment."</p>
<p>When it comes to sarcasming, I reckon I know how to keep my end up. That
jab made this fellow squirm. The abbot inquired after the queen and
the court, and got this information:</p>
<p>"They be all on sleep, being overcome by fatigue, like as to the king."</p>
<p>I said:</p>
<p>"That is merely another lie. Half of them are about their
amusements, the queen and the other half are not sleeping, they ride.
Now perhaps you can spread yourself a little, and tell us where the
king and queen and all that are this moment riding with them are going?"</p>
<p>"They sleep now, as I said; but on the morrow they will ride, for they go
a journey toward the sea."</p>
<p>"And where will they be the day after to-morrow at vespers?"</p>
<p>"Far to the north of Camelot, and half their journey will be done."</p>
<p>"That is another lie, by the space of a hundred and fifty miles. Their
journey will not be merely half done, it will be all done, and they will
be <i>here</i> , in this valley."</p>
<p><i>That</i> was a noble shot! It set the abbot and the monks in a
whirl of excitement, and it rocked the enchanter to his base. I
followed the thing right up:</p>
<p>"If the king does not arrive, I will have myself ridden on a rail: if he
does I will ride you on a rail instead."</p>
<p>Next day I went up to the telephone office and found that the king had
passed through two towns that were on the line. I spotted his
progress on the succeeding day in the same way. I kept these matters
to myself. The third day's reports showed that if he kept up his
gait he would arrive by four in the afternoon. There was still no
sign anywhere of interest in his coming; there seemed to be no
preparations making to receive him in state; a strange thing, truly.
Only one thing could explain this: that other magician had
been cutting under me, sure. This was true. I asked a friend
of mine, a monk, about it, and he said, yes, the magician had tried some
further enchantments and found out that the court had concluded to make no
journey at all, but stay at home. Think of that! Observe how
much a reputation was worth in such a country. These people had seen me do
the very showiest bit of magic in history, and the only one within their
memory that had a positive value, and yet here they were, ready to take up
with an adventurer who could offer no evidence of his powers but his mere
unproven word.</p>
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<p>However, it was not good politics to let the king come without any fuss
and feathers at all, so I went down and drummed up a procession of
pilgrims and smoked out a batch of hermits and started them out at two
o'clock to meet him. And that was the sort of state he arrived in.
The abbot was helpless with rage and humiliation when I brought him
out on a balcony and showed him the head of the state marching in and
never a monk on hand to offer him welcome, and no stir of life or clang of
joy-bell to glad his spirit. He took one look and then flew to rouse
out his forces. The next minute the bells were dinning furiously, and the
various buildings were vomiting monks and nuns, who went swarming in a
rush toward the coming procession; and with them went that magician—and
he was on a rail, too, by the abbot's order; and his reputation was in the
mud, and mine was in the sky again. Yes, a man can keep his
trademark current in such a country, but he can't sit around and do it; he
has got to be on deck and attending to business right along.</p>
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