When first by Eden Tree The Four Great Rivers ran, To each was appointed a Man Her Prince and Ruler to be.
But after this was ordained, (The ancient legends tell), There came dark Israel, For whom no River remained.
Then He That is Wholly Just Said to him: 'Fling on the ground A handful of yellow dust, And a Fifth Great River shall run, Mightier than these four, In secret the Earth around;
And Her secret evermore Shall be shown to thee and thy Race.
So it was said and done.
And, deep in the veins of Earth, And, fed by a thousand springs That comfort the market-place, Or sap the power of Kings, The Fifth Great River had birth, Even as it was foretold - The Secret River of Gold!
And Israel laid down His sceptre and his crown, To brood on that River bank, Where the waters flashed and sank, And burrowed in earth and fell, And bided a season below;
For reason that none might know, Save only Israel.
He is Lord of the Last - The Fifth, most wonderful, Flood.
He hears Her thunder past And Her song is in his blood.
He can foresay: 'She will fall,'
For he knows which fountain dries Behind which desert-belt A thousand leagues to the South.
He can foresay: 'She will rise.'
He knows what far snows melt Along what mountain-wall A thousand leagues to the North.
He snuffs the coming drouth As he snuffs the coming rain, He knows what each will bring forth, And turns it to his gain.
A Prince without a Sword, A Ruler without a Throne;
Israel follows his quest.
In every land a guest, Of many lands a lord, In no land King is he.
But the Fifth Great River keeps The secret of Her deeps For Israel alone, As it was ordered to be.
Now it was the third week in November, and the woods rang with the noise of pheasant-shooting. No one hunted that steep, cramped country except the village beagles, who, as often as not, escaped from their kennels and made a day of their own. Dan and Una found a couple of them towling round the kitchen-garden after the laundry cat. The little brutes were only too pleased to go rabbiting, so the children ran them all along the brook pastures and into Little Lindens farm-yard, where the old sow vanquished them - and up to the quarry-hole, where they started a fox. He headed for Far Wood, and there they frightened out all the Pheasants, who were sheltering from a big beat across the valley. Then the cruel guns began again, and they grabbed the beagles lest they should stray and get hurt.
'I wouldn't be a pheasant - in November - for a lot,'
Dan panted, as he caught Folly by the neck. 'Why did you laugh that horrid way?'
'I didn't,' said Una, sitting on Flora, the fat lady-dog.
'Oh, look! The silly birds are going back to their own woods instead of ours, where they would be safe.'
'Safe till it pleased you to kill them.' An old man, so tall he was almost a giant, stepped from behind the clump of hollies by Volaterrae. The children jumped, and the dogs dropped like setters. He wore a sweeping gown of dark thick stuff, lined and edged with yellowish fur, and he bowed a bent-down bow that made them feel both proud and ashamed. Then he looked at them steadily, and they stared back without doubt or fear.
'You are not afraid?' he said, running his hands through his splendid grey beard. 'Not afraid that those men yonder' - he jerked his head towards the incessant POP-POP of the guns from the lower woods -'will do you hurt?'
'We-ell'- Dan liked to be accurate, especially when he was shy -'old Hobd - a friend of mine told me that one of the beaters got peppered last week - hit in the leg, I mean. You see, Mr Meyer will fire at rabbits. But he gave Waxy Garnett a quid - sovereign, I mean - and Waxy told Hobden he'd have stood both barrels for half the money.'
'He doesn't understand,'Una cried, watching the pale, troubled face. 'Oh, I wish -'
She had scarcely said it when Puck rustled out of the hollies and spoke to the man quickly in foreign words.
Puck wore a long cloak too - the afternoon was just frosting down - and it changed his appearance altogether.
'Nay, nay!'he said at last. 'You did not understand the boy. A freeman was a little hurt, by pure mischance, at the hunting.'
'I know that mischance! What did his lord do? Laugh and ride over him?' the old man sneered.
'It was one of your own people did the hurt, Kadmiel.'
Puck's eyes twinkled maliciously. 'So he gave the freeman a piece of gold, and no more was said.'
'A Jew drew blood from a Christian and no more was said?' Kadmiel cried. 'Never! When did they torture him?'
'No man may be bound, or fined, or slain till he has been judged by his peers,' Puck insisted. 'There is but one Law in Old England for Jew or Christian - the Law that was signed at Runnymede.'
'Why, that's Magna Charta!' Dan whispered. It was one of the few history dates that he could remember.
Kadmiel turned on him with a sweep and a whirr of his spicy-scented gown.
'Dost thou know of that, babe?' he cried, and lifted his hands in wonder.
'Yes,' said Dan firmly.
'Magna Charta was signed by John, That Henry the Third put his heel upon.
And old Hobden says that if it hadn't been for her (he calls everything "her", you know), the keepers would have him clapped in Lewes jail all the year round.'
Again Puck translated to Kadmiel in the strange, solemn-sounding language, and at last Kadmiel laughed.
'Out of the mouths of babes do we learn,' said he. 'But tell me now, and I will not call you a babe but a Rabbi, why did the King sign the roll of the New Law at Runnymede?
For he was a King.'
Dan looked sideways at his sister. It was her turn.
'Because he jolly well had to,' said Una softly. 'The Barons made him.'
