Pembru, and witliuut my naming they sprang into view one after another, each in a breath's space. Their faces flashed among the shreds of flame—Buckingham, elegant and furtive; Lauderdale, drinking from a leather cup; Colonel Carlis, whom we called "Careless," though he was never that; the brothers Penderel, by a fireside with an old dame who may have been their mother; suddenly, as a finish to the show, Cromwell again, seen near with a bible in his hand.
The fire died, like a blown candle. The room was dim and gray, with a whisp of smoke across the hide-spread window.
"Well, sire? You believe?" said Pembru. He smiled now, and I saw teeth as lean and white as a hunting dog's.
"Faith, only a fool would refuse to believe," I said in all honesty.
He stepped near. "Then you accept us?" he questioned hoarsely. On my other hand tiptoed the fair lass Regan.
"Charles!" she whispered. "Charles, my comely king!" and pushed herself close against me, like a cat seeking caresses.
"Your choice is wise," Pembroke said on. "Spells bemused and scattered your army—spells will bring it back afresh. You shall triumph, and salt England with the bones of the rebels. Noll Cromwell shall swing from a gallows, that all like rogues may take warning. And you, brought by our powers to your proper throne—"
"Hold," I said, and they looked upon me silently.
"I said only that I believe in your sorcery," I told them, "but I will have none of it."
You would have thought those words plain and round enough. But my three neighbors in that ill house stared mutely, as if I spoke strangely and foolishly. Finally: "Oh, brave and gay! Let me perish else!" quoth Pembru, and laughed.
My temper went, and with it my bemusement. "Perish you shall, dog, for your saucy ways," I promised. "What, you stare and grin? Am I your sovereign lord, or am I a penny show? I have humored you too long. Good-bye."
I made a step to leave, and Pembru slid across my path. His daughter Regan was opening the book and reciting hurriedly, but I minded her not a penny. Instead, I smote Pembru with my fist, hard and fair in the middle of his mocking face. And down he went, full-sprawl, rosy blood fountaining over mouth and chin.
"Cross me again," quoth I, "and I'll drive you into your native dirt like a tether-peg." With that, I stepped across his body where it quivered like a wounded snake, and put forth my hand to open the door.
There was no door. Not anywhere in the room.
I turned back, the while Regan finished reading and closed the book upon her slim finger.
"You see, Charles Stuart," she smiled, "you must bide here in despite of yourself."
"Sir, sir," pleaded Diccon, half-crouching like a cricket, "will you not mend your opinion of us?"
"I will mend naught," I said, "save the lack of a door." And I gave the wall a kick that shook the stout wattlings and brought down flakes of clay. My blistered foot quivered with pain, but another kick made some of the poles spring from their fastenings. In a moment I would open a way outward, would go forth.
Regan shouted new words from the book. I remember a few, like uncouth names—Sator, Arepos, Janna. I have heard since that these are powerful matters with the Gnostics. In the midst of her outcry, I thought smoke drifted before me—smoke |hat stank like dead flesh, and thickened into globes and curves, as if it
