THE HOUSE OF ELD
by Robert Louis Stevenson
So soon as the child began to speak, the gyve
was riveted; and the boys and girls limped about
their play like convicts. Doubtless it was more
pitiable to see and more painful to bear in youth;
but even the grown folk, besides being very unhandy
on their feet, were often sick with ulcers.
About the time when Jack was ten years old, many
strangers began to journey through that country.
These he beheld going lightly by on the long roads,
and the thing amazed him. "I wonder how it comes,"
he asked, "that all these strangers are so quick
afoot, and we must drag about our fetter?"
"My dear boy," said his uncle, the catechist, "do
not complain about your fetter, for it is the only
thing that makes life worth living. None are happy,
none are good, none are respectable, that are not
gyved like us. And I must tell you, besides, it is
very dangerous talk. If you grumble of your iron,
you will have no luck; if ever you take it off, you
will be instantly smitten by a thunderbolt."
"Are there no thunderbolts for these strangers?"
asked Jack.
"Jupiter is longsuffering to the benighted," returned
the catechist.
"Upon my word, I could wish I had been less fortunate,"
said Jack. "For if I had been born benighted, I
might now be going free; and it cannot be denied the
iron is inconvenient, and the ulcer hurts."
"Ah!" cried his uncle, "do not envy the heathen!
Theirs is a sad lot! Ah, poor souls, if they but
knew the joys of being fettered! Poor souls, my
heart yearns for them. But the truth is they are
vile, odious, insolent, ill-conditioned, stinking
brutes, not truly human--for what is a man without
a fetter?--and you cannot be too particular not
to touch or speak with them."
After this talk, the child would never pass one
of the unfettered on the road but what he spat at
him and called him names, which was the practice
of the children in that part.
It chanced one day, when he was fifteen, he went
into the woods, and the ulcer pained him. It was
a fair day, with a blue sky; all the birds were
singing; but Jack nursed his foot. Presently,
another song began; it sounded like the singing
of a person, only far more gay; at the same time
there was a beating on the earth. Jack put aside
the leaves; and there was a lad of his own village,
leaping, and dancing and singing to himself in
a green dell; and on the grass beside him lay the
dancer's iron.
"Oh!" cried Jack, "you have your fetter off!"
"For God's sake, don't tell your uncle!" cried
the lad.
"If you fear my uncle," returned Jack "why do
you not fear the thunderbolt"?
"That is only an old wives' tale," said the other.
"It is only told to children. Scores of us come
here among the woods and dance for nights together,
and are none the worse."
This put Jack in a thousand new thoughts. He was
a grave lad; he had no mind to dance himself; he
wore his fetter manfully, and tended his ulcer
without complaint. But he loved the less to be
deceived or to see others cheated. He began to
lie in wait for heathen travellers, at covert
parts of the road, and in the dusk of the day,
so that he might speak with them unseen; and these
were greatly taken with their wayside questioner,
and told him things of weight. The wearing of
gyves (they said) was no command of Jupiter's.
It was the contrivance of a white-faced thing,
a sorcerer, that dwelt in that country in the
Wood of Eld. He was one like Glaucus that could
change his shape, yet he could be always told;
for when he was crossed, he gobbled like a turkey.
He had three lives; but the third smiting would
make an end of him indeed; and with that his
house of sorcery would vanish, the gyves fall,
and the villagers take hands and dance like
children.
"And in your country?" Jack would ask.
But at this the travellers, with one accord,
would put him off; until Jack began to suppose
there was no land entirely happy. Or, if there
were, it must be one that kept its folk at home;
which was natural enough.
But the case of the gyves weighed upon him.
The sight of the children limping stuck in his
eyes; the groans of such as dressed their ulcers
haunted him. And it came at last in his mind
that he was born to free them.
There was in that village a sword of heavenly
forgery, beaten upon Vulcan's anvil. It was
never used but in the temple, and then the flat
of it only; and it hung on a nail by the catechist's
chimney. Early one night, Jack rose, and took
the sword, and was gone out of the house and
the village in the darkness.
All night he walked at a venture; and when day
came, he met strangers going to the fields.
Then he asked after the Wood of Eld and the house
of sorcery; and one said north, and one south;
until Jack saw that they deceived him. So then,
when he asked his way of any man, he showed the
bright sword naked; and at that the gyve on the
man's ankle rang, and answered in his stead; and
the word was still Straight on. But the man,
when his gyve spoke, spat and struck at Jack,
and threw stones at him as he went away; so that
his head was broken.
So he came to that wood, and entered in, and he
was aware of a house in a low place, where
funguses grew, and the trees met, and the
steaming of the marsh arose about it like a
smoke. It was a fine house, and a very rambling;
some parts of it were ancient like the hills,
and some but of yesterday, and none finished; and
all the ends of it were open, so that you could
go in from every side. Yet it was in good repair,
and all the chimneys smoked.
Jack went in through the gable; and there was
one room after another, all bare, but all furnished
in part, so that a man could dwell there; and in
each there was a fire burning, where a man could
warm himself, and a table spread where he might
eat. But Jack saw nowhere any living creature;
only the bodies of some stuffed.
"This is a hospitable house," said Jack; "but the
ground must be quaggy underneath, for at every
step the building quakes."
He had gone some time in the house, when he began
to be hungry. Then he looked at the food, and at
first he was afraid; but he bared the sword, and
by the shining of the sword, it seemed the food
was honest. So he took the courage to sit down
and eat, and he was refreshed in mind and body.
"This is strange," thought he, "that in the house
of sorcery, there should be food so wholesome."
As he was yet eating, there came into that room
the appearance of his uncle, and Jack was afraid
because he had taken the sword. But his uncle
was never more kind, and sat down to meat with
him, and praised him because he had taken the
sword. Never had these two been more pleasantly
together, and Jack was full of love to the man.
"It was very well done," said his uncle, "to
take the sword and come yourself into the House
of Eld; a good thought and a brave deed. But
now you are satisfied; and we may go home to
dinner arm in arm."
"Oh, dear, no!" said Jack. "I am not satisfied
yet."
"How!" cried his uncle. "Are you not warmed by
the fire? Does not this food sustain you?"
"I see the food to be wholesome," said Jack, "and
still it is no proof that a man should wear a gyve
on his right leg."
Now at this the appearance of his uncle gobbled
like a turkey.
"Jupiter!" cried Jack, "is this the sorcerer?"
His hand held back and his heart failed him for
the love he bore his uncle; but he heaved up the
sword and smote the appearance on the head; and
it cried out aloud with the voice of his uncle;
and fell to the ground; and a little bloodless
white thing fled from the room.
The cry rang in Jack's ears, and his knees smote
together, and conscience cried upon him; and yet
he was strengthened, and there woke in his bones
the lust of that enchanter's blood. "If the gyves
are to fall," said he, "I must go through with
this, and when I get home, I shall find my uncle
dancing."
So he went on after the bloodless thing. In the
way, he met the appearance of his father; and his
father was incensed, and railed upon him, and
called to him upon his duty, and bade him be home,
while there was yet time. "For you can still,"
said he, "be home by sunset; and then all will
be forgiven."
"God knows," said Jack, "I fear your anger; but
yet your anger does not prove that a man should
wear a gyve on his right leg."
And at that the appearance of his father gobbled
like a turkey.
"Ah, heaven," cried Jack, "the sorcerer again!"
The blood ran backward in his body and his joints
rebelled against him for the love he bore his
father; but he heaved up the sword, and plunged
it in the heart of the appearance; and the appearance
cried out aloud with the voice of his father; and
fell to the ground; and a little bloodless white
thing fled from the room.
The cry rang in Jack's ears, and his soul was
darkened; but now rage came to him. "I have done
what I dare not think upon," said he. "I will go
to an end with it, or perish. And when I get home,
I pray God this may be a dream, and I may find my
father dancing."
So he went on after the bloodless thing that had
escaped; and in the way he met the appearance of
his mother, and she wept. "What have you done?"
she cried. "What is this that you have done? Oh,
come home (where you may be by bedtime) ere you
do more ill to me and mine; for it is enough
to smite my brother and your father."
"Dear mother, it is not these that I have smitten,"
said Jack; "it was but the enchanter in their shape.
And even if I had, it would not prove that a man
should wear a gyve on his right leg."
And at this the appearance gobbled like a turkey.
He never knew how he did that; but he swung the
sword on the one side, and clove the appearance
through the midst; and it cried out aloud with
the voice of his mother; and fell to the ground;
and with the fall of it, the house was gone from
over Jack's head, and he stood alone in the woods,
and the gyve was loosened from his leg.
"Well," said he, "the enchanter is now dead, and
the fetter gone." But the cries rang in his soul,
and the day was like night to him. "This has
been a sore business," said he. "Let me get
forth out of the wood, and see the good that I
have done to others."
He thought to leave the fetter where it lay, but
when he turned to go, his mind was otherwise. So
he stooped and put the gyve in his bosom; and
the rough iron galled him as he went, and his
bosom bled.
Now when he was forth of the wood upon the highway,
he met folk returning from the field; and those
he met had no fetter on the right leg, but, behold!
they had one upon the left. Jack asked them what
it signified; and they said, "that was the new
wear, for the old was found to be a superstition".
Then he looked at them nearly; and there was a new
ulcer on the left ankle, and the old one on the
right was not yet healed.
"Now, may God forgive me!" cried Jack. "I would
I were well home."
And when he was home, there lay his uncle smitten
on the head, and his father pierced through the
heart, and his mother cloven through the midst.
And he sat in the lone house and wept beside the
bodies.
MORAL
Old is the tree and the fruit good,
Very old and thick the wood.
Woodman, is your courage stout?
Beware! the root is wrapped about
Your mother's heart, your father's bones;
And like the mandrake comes with groans.
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