The Wooing of Lakla
I had slept and dreamlessly; I in the great into which Rador had O'Keefe and myself after that of crowded, nerve-racking hours—the of the Three.
Now, at the high-vaulted ceiling, I Larry's voice:
"They look like birds." Evidently he was of the Three; a silence—then: "Yes, they look like birds—and they look, and it's meaning no to them I am at all, they look like lizards"—and another silence—"they look like some of gods, and, by the good sword-arm of Brian Boru, they look human, too! And it's none of them they are either, so what—what the—what the St. Bridget are they?" Another silence, and then in a of and conviction: "That's it, sure! That's what they are—it all in—they couldn't be anything else—"
He gave a whoop; a pillow over and me across the head.
"Wake up!" Larry. "Wake up, ye of superstitions! Wake up, ye bogy-haunted man of scientific unwisdom!"
Under pillow and I to my feet, for a moment with wrath; he back, with laughter, and my anger was away.
"Doc," he said, very seriously, after this, "I know who the Three are!"
"Yes?" I queried, with sarcasm.
"Yes?" he mimicked. "Yes! Ye—ye" He paused under the of my look, grinned. "Yes, I know," he continued. "They're of the Tuatha De, the old ones, the great people of Ireland, that's who they are!"
I knew, of course, of the Tuatha De Danann, the of the god Danu, the half-legendary, half-historical who their home in Erin some four thousand years the Christian era, and who have left so an upon the Celtic mind and its myths.
"Yes," said Larry again, "the Tuatha De—the Ancient Ones who had that Mananan, who is the of all the seas, an' Keithor, who is the god of all green things, an' Hesus, the god, is the of all the firmament; yes, an' Orchil too, who the earth an' with the of and her three of birth an' life an' death—even Orchil would as they commanded!"
He was silent—then:
"They are of them—the ones—why else would I have my to them as I would have to the of my mother? Why else would Lakla, gold-brown is the of Eilidh the Fair, mouth is the sweet mouth of Deirdre, an' walked with mine among the green of Erin, them?" he whispered, full of dream.
"Have you any idea how they got here?" I asked, not unreasonably.
"I haven't about that," he testily. "But at once, me excellent man o' wisdom, a number to me. One of them is that this little party of three might have stopped here on their way to Ireland, an' for good of their own to a while; an' another is that they might have come here afterward, havin' got wind of what those out there were contemplatin', and have on the job till the time was to save Ireland from 'em; the of the world, too, of course," he added magnanimously, "but Ireland in particular. And do any of those to ye?"
I my head.
"Well, what do you think?" he asked wearily.
"I think," I said cautiously, "that we an of beings from from those through which ascended. These half-human, they call the Akka prove that in these has one different path than on earth. The Englishman, Wells, an and very book an of earth by Martians, and he his Martians cuttlefish. There was nothing in Wells' choice. Man is the animal of earth today by of a series of accidents; under another series or ants, or elephants, have the race.
"I think," I said, more cautiously, "that the to which the Three appeared on earth's surface; that their took place here, through aeons. And if this be true, the of their brains, and therefore all their reactions, must be different from ours. Hence their knowledge and of to us—and hence also the question they may not have an different of values, of justice—and that is terrifying," I concluded.
Larry his head.
"That last of your argument, Doc," he said. "They had of to help me out—and they know love—for I saw the way they looked at Lakla; and sorrow—for there was no that in their faces.
"No," he on. "I to my own idea. They're of the Old People. The little his way here, an' I'll it was they who sent the word. An' if the O'Keefe comes here—which save the mark!—I'll she'll in on the Silent Ones for a social visit she an' her busy. Well, it'll make her more at home, the good old body. No, Doc, no," he concluded, "I'm right; it all in too well to be wrong."
I a last attempt.
"Is there anything in Ireland that would that the Tuatha De looked like the Three?" I asked—and again I had spoken most unfortunately.
"Is there?" he shouted. "Is there? By the of Cormack MacCormack, I'm ye me. It was worryin' me a little meself. There was Daghda, who put on the of a great an' the of a fish and the an' tear to pieces the of any who came against Erin; an' there was Rinn—"
How many more of the of the Old People I might have heard, I do not know, for the and in walked Rador.
"You have rested well," he smiled, "I can see. The me call you. You are to eat with her in her garden."
Down long we and out upon a as as any of those of Yolara's city; bowered, blossoming, fragrant, set high upon the the castle. A table, as of milky jade, was spread at one corner, but the Golden Girl was not there. A little path ran on and up, in by the of verdure. I looked at it longingly; Rador saw the glance, it, and me up the into a embrasure.
Here I was above the foliage, and the view was clear. Below me the bridge, with the people and upon it. A at my the abyss. My the ledge. Above it the rose bare, but at the ends of the a began, from the into distances. Of and and yellows, like an autumn forest, was the foliage, with here and there of dark-green, as of conifers. Five miles or more, on each side, the swept, and then were to in the haze.
I and an of waters, unbroken, a true sea, if there was one. A blew—the wind I had in the places; under it the surface, that had been as lacquer, and dimpled. Little with a of rose-pearls and rubies. The Medusae drifted—stately, moons.
Far down, around a tower of the cliff, I saw with the motion of the a garden. The flowers, too, were luminous—indeed sparkling—gleaming of and than the on which they lay, and odd of reddish-blue. They and like a little of jewels.
Rador in upon my musings.
"Lakla comes! Let us go down."
It was a Lakla who came slowly around the end of the path and, furiously, her hands out to Larry. And the Irishman took them, them over his heart, them with a that had been in the half-mocking, half-fierce he had the priestess. She deeper, out the fingers—then pressed them to her own heart.
"I like the touch of your lips, Larry," she whispered. "They warm me here"—she pressed her again—"and they send little of light through me." Her perplexedly, the of diablerie, and fascinating, that they upon the flower face.
"Do you?" the O'Keefe fervently. "Do you, Lakla?" He toward her. She the of Rador; herself half-haughtily.
"Rador," she said, "is it not time that you and the one, Olaf, were setting forth?"
"Truly it is, handmaiden," he answered enough—yet with a of under his words. "But as you know the one, Olaf, to see his friends here we were gone—and he comes now," he added, the pathway, along which came the Norseman.
As he us I saw that a had been in him. Gone was the seeking, and gone too the just as hope. The set as he looked at the Golden Girl and low to her. He a hand to O'Keefe and to me.
"There is to be battle," he said. "I go with Rador to call the of these people. As for me—Lakla has spoken. There is no for—for mine Helma in life, but there is that we the Shining Devil and give mine Helma peace. And with that I am well content, ja! Well content!" He our hands again. "We will fight!" he muttered. "Ja! And I will have vengeance!" The returned; and with a Rador and he were gone.
Two great rolled from the of Lakla.
"Not the Silent Ones can those the Shining One has taken," she said. "He asked me—and it was that I tell him. It is part of the Three's—punishment—but of that you will soon learn," she on hurriedly. "Ask me no questions now of the Silent Ones. I it for Olaf to go with Rador, to himself, to give his mind other than upon which to feed."
Up the path came five of the frog-women, and ewers. Their and of were tinkling; their with of cloth with the ornaments.
And here let me say that if I have the that the Akka are frogs, I it. Frog-like they are, and hence my phrase for them—but as the frog, as we know it, as man is the chimpanzee. Springing, I hazard, from the stegocephalia, the of the frogs, these a different line of and the position just as man did his from the four-footed folk.
The great eyes, the shape of the were frog-like, but the brain had set upon the and shape of it differences. The forehead, for instance, was not low, flat, and retreating—its was well defined. The was, in a sense, shapely, and with the the great that over it like a was much modified, as were the that were so in the male; was different also. The was upright; the a little bent, them their gait—but I from my subject.[1]
They set their down. Larry looked at them with interest.
"You surely have those well trained, Lakla," he said.
"Things!" The arose, with indignation. "You call my Akka things!"
"Well," said Larry, a taken aback, "what do you call them?"
"My Akka are a people," she retorted. "As much a people as your or mine. They are good and loyal, and they have speech and arts, and they not, save for food or to protect themselves. And I think them beautiful, Larry, beautiful!" She her foot. "And you call them—things!"
Beautiful! These? Yet, after all, they were, in their fashion. And to Lakla, by them, from babyhood, they were not strange, at all. Why shouldn't she think them beautiful? The same must have O'Keefe, for he guiltily.
"I think them beautiful, too, Lakla," he said remorsefully. "It's my not your too well that me. Truly, I think them beautiful—I'd tell them so, if I their talk."
Lakla dimpled, laughed—spoke to the in that speech that was a language; they bridled, looked at O'Keefe with coquetry, and among themselves.
"They say they like you than the men of Muria," laughed Lakla.
"Did I think I'd be with lady frogs!" he to me. "Buck up, Larry—keep your on the Irish princess!" he to himself.
"Rador goes to meet one of the who is through with news," said the Golden Girl as we ourselves to the food. "Then, with Nak, he and Olaf go to the Akka—for there will be battle, and we must prepare. Nak," she added, "is he who me when you were dancing with Yolara, Larry." She a swift, at him. "He is of all the Akka."
"Just what can we against them when they come, darlin'?" said Larry.
"Darlin'?"—the Golden Girl had the of the word—"what's that?"
"It's a little word that means Lakla," he answered. "It does—that is, when I say it; when you say it, then it means Larry."
"I like that word," Lakla.
"You can say Larry darlin'!" O'Keefe.
"Larry darlin'!" said Lakla. "When they come we shall have of all my Akka—"
"Can they fight, mavourneen?" Larry.
"Can they fight! My Akka!" Again her flashed. "They will to the last of them—with the that give the rotting, covered, as they are, with the jelly of those Saddu there—" She pointed through a in the across which, on the surface of the sea, was one of the moon globes—and now I know why Rador had Larry against a there. "With and and with teeth and and spurs—they are a and people, Larry—darlin', and though they the Keth at them, it is slow to work upon them, and they while they are into the nothingness!"
"And have we none of the Keth?" he asked.
"No"—she her head—"none of their have we here, although it was—it was the Ancient Ones who them."
"But the Three are of the Ancient Ones?" I cried. "Surely they can tell—"
"No," she said slowly. "No—there is something you must know—and soon; and then the Silent Ones say you will understand. You, especially, Goodwin, who wisdom."
"Then," said Larry, "we have the Akka; and we have the four men of us, and among us three and about a hundred cartridges—an'—an' the power of the Three—but what about the Shining One, Fireworks—"
"I do not know." Again the that had been in her when Yolara had her back. "The Shining One is strong—and he has his—slaves!"
"Well, we'd good and quick!" the O'Keefe's voice rang. But Lakla, for some of her own, would the no further. The trouble from her eyes—they danced.
"Larry darlin'?" she murmured. "I like the touch of your lips—"
"You do?" he whispered, all of anything but the beautiful, so close to his. "Then, acushla, you're goin' to with 'em! Turn your head, Doc!" he said.
And I it. There was a long silence, by an interested, soft of from the frog-maids. I a me. Lakla's on the Irishman's shoulder, the of love and adoration; and the O'Keefe, a new look of power and upon his clear-cut features, was into them with that look which only from the touched for the time with that true, all-powerful love, which is the of the itself, the music of the of which Plato dreamed, the love that is than death itself, as the high gods and the true of all that we call life.
Then Lakla her hands, pressed Larry's head, him the eyes, herself with a little laugh from his embrace.
"The Mrs. Larry O'Keefe, Goodwin," said Larry to me a little unsteadily.
I took their hands—and Lakla me!
She to the booming—smiling—frog-maids; gave them some command, for they away the path. Suddenly I felt, well, a little superfluous.
"If you don't mind," I said, "I think I'll go up the path there again and look about."
But they were so with each other that they did not me—so I walked away, up to the where Rador had taken me. The movement of the over the had ceased. Dimly at the end I see the of the garrison. My to Lakla and to Larry.
What was to be the end?
If we won, if we were able to pass from this place, she live in our world? A product of these with their and light that in some way to be food and drink—how would she to the foods and air and light of earth? Further, here so as I was able to discover, there were no bacilli—what Lakla have then to those without, which only long of and death have for us a of protection? I to be oppressed. Surely they had been long by themselves. I the path.
I Larry.
"It's a green land, mavourneen. And the sea and around it—blue as the heavens, green as the itself, and their white manes, and the great clean over it, and the sun on it like your eyes, acushla—"
"And are you a king of Ireland, Larry darlin'?" Thus Lakla—
But enough!
At last we to go—and around the of the path I another of what I have called the of jewels. I pointed to it.
"Those are flowers, Lakla," I said. "I have anything like them in the place from we come."
She my pointing finger—laughed.
"Come," she said, "let me you them."
She ran an way, we following; came out of it upon a little close to the brink, three or more I about it. The Golden Girl's voice out in a high-pitched, tremulous, call.
The of as though a had passed over it; stirred, shook, and then to move swiftly, a of flowers upon us! She called again, the movement more rapid; the closer—closer, wavering, shifting, winding—at our very feet. Above them a little mist. The Golden Girl over; called softly, and up from the a green were five flowers of ruby—shot up, into her hand and about the white arm, its of blossoms—regarding us!
It was the thing Lakla had called the Yekta; that with which she had the priestess; the thing that the death—and the Golden Girl was it like a rose!
Larry swore—I looked at the thing more closely. It was a hydroid, a of that animal-vegetable that, sometimes almost microscopic, in the sea like a of flowers its with the that in its heads![2]
"Put it down, Lakla," the in O'Keefe's voice was deep. Lakla laughed mischievously, the for her in his eyes; opened her hand, gave another call—and it to its fellows.
"Why, it wouldn't me, Larry!" she expostulated. "They know me!"
"Put it down!" he hoarsely.
She sighed, gave another sweet, call. The of gems—rubies and amethysts, and scarlet-tinged blues—wavered and as it had before—and to that place she had them!
Then, with Larry and Lakla walking ahead, white arm about his neck; the O'Keefe still expostulating, the laughing merrily, we passed through her to the castle.
Glancing through a I again of the end of the bridge; noted among the of its of the frog-men a movement, a of green fire like on tips; what it was, and then, other in, along, bent, the pair who had in what was Olaf's hell, their true paradise.
[1] The Akka are viviparous. The female produces at five-year intervals, more than two at a time. They are monogamous, like of our own Ranidae. Pending my upon what little I had time to learn of their and customs, the will and in Brandes and Schvenichen's Brutpfleige Schwanzlosen Bat rachier, p. 395; and Lilian V. Sampson's Unusual Modes of Breeding among Anura, Amer. Nat. xxxiv., 1900.—W. T. G.
[2] The Yekta of the Crimson Sea, are as of as the Medusae, of which, of course, they are not too cousins. The to them in water are among the Gymnoblastic Hydroids, Clavetella prolifera, a most of six tentacles. Almost every in Southern waters, Northern too, the pain that with "jelly fish" produces. The Yekta's was and, to us, monstrous. It in its five an almost acting which I suspect, for I had no to the theory, the entire to the of agony; at the same time the that the through of time. Both and produce in the majority this of time extension, without of the pain symptom. What Lakla called the Yekta is I about as close to the idea of Hell as can be conceived. The of her over them I had no opportunity of learning in the of events that followed. Knowledge of the of their touch came, she told me, from those "who had been so lightly" that they recovered. Certainly nothing, not the Shining One, was by the Murians as these were—W. T. G.
