know, jiggery-pokery – the shades of distinction being fine, you understand. Some barbarians slit animals open and observe portents revealed in the steaming entrails, yum yum. Others scan the sky for birds or storms. Ebon clouds, oh dear! These are what one might term the blood-and-thunder methods. The Telthearna boys, on the other hand, employ a bear. It's all the same in the end – it saves these people from having to think, you know, which they're not terribly good at, really. Bears, dear creatures – and many bears are among my best friends – have to be interpreted no less than entrails and birds, and some magical person has to be found to do it. This man Crendrik-you are right, he could neither command an army in the field nor administer justice. He is a peasant – or at all events he is not of noble birth. He is the wonderful What-Is-It who stepped out of the rainbow – a familiar figure, dear me yes! His monarchy is a magical one: he has taken it upon himself to mediate to the people the power of the bear – the power of God, as they believe.' 'What does he do, then?'
'Ah, a good question. I am glad you asked it. What, indeed? Everything but think, we may be sure. I have no idea what methods he employs – possibly the bear piddles on the floor and he observes portents in the steaming what-not. How would I know? But a crystal ball of some kind there must surely be. One thing I know about the man – and this is genuine enough, for what it's worth. He possesses a certain curious ability to go near the bear without being attacked; apparently he has been known even to touch it and lie down beside it As long as he can go on doing that, his people will believe in his power and therefore in their own. And that no doubt accounts, my dear Mollo, for his having the general air of one finding himself in a leaking canoe with a vivid realization that he cannot swim.' 'How so?'
'Well, one day, sooner or later, the bear is fairly sure to wake up in a bad temper, yes? Growl growl. Biff biff. Oh dear. Applications are invited for the interesting post That, in one form or another, is the inevitable end of the road for a priest-king. And why not? He doesn't have to work, he doesn't have to fight: well, obviously he has to pay for it somehow.'
'If he's the king, why does he walk through the streets on his own two feet?'
'I confess I'm not sure, but I conceive that it may be something to do with his being different in one respect from others of his kind. As a rule, among these roughs, the priest is himself the manifestation of God. They kill him now and then, you know, just to keep him in mind of it Now here, the bear is the divine creature and the gentle- man we have just been admiring represents, as long as he can keep on going near it, a proof that the bear means him, and therefore his people, good and not harm. The bear's savagery is working on their side and against their enemies. They have cornered it until it, as it were, corners him. It may well be the whole point that he is plainly vulnerable and yet remains unharmed – a magic trick. So he takes pains to show that he is indeed a real and ordinary human being, by walking through the city every day.'
Mollo drank and pondered in silence. At last he said, 'You're like a lot of men from Ikat -'
'I come from Lapan, from Lapan, jolly man: from Sarkid, actually; but not from Ikat.'
'Well, like a lot of the southerners. You think everything out trust in your minds and in nothing else. But people up here aren't like that. The Ortelgans have established their power in Bekla – ' 'They have not'
'They have, and principally for one reason. It's not just that they've fought well, and it's not that there's already been a great deal of inter-marriage with Beklan girls – those are just things that follow from the real reason, which is Shardik. How is it that they've succeeded against all probability, unless Shardik is really the power of God? Look what he did for them. Look what they've achieved in his name. Everyone who knows what happened -' 'It's lost nothing in the telling -'
'Everyone feels now what S'marr felt from the outset – they're meant to win. We don't reason it all out like you; we see what's before our eyes, and what's before our eyes is Shardik, that's it'
Elleroth leant forward with his elbows on the table and bent his head, speaking earnestly and low.
'Then let me tell you something, Mollo, that you evidently don't know. Are you aware that the whole worship of Shardik, as carried on here in Bekla, is knowingly contrary to the Ortelgans' traditional and orthodox cult, of which this man they call Crendrik is not and never has been the legitimate head?' Mollo stared. 'What?' 'You don't believe me, do you?'
'I'm not going to quarrel with you, Elleroth, after all we've been through together, but I hold authority under these people – they've made my fortune, if you like, that's it – and you want me to believe that they're -' 'Listen.' Elleroth glanced round quickly and then continued.
'This is not the first time that these people have ruled in Bekla. Long ago they did so; and in those days, too, they worshipped a bear. But it was not kept here. It was kept on an island in the Telthearna – Quiso. The cult was controlled by women – there was no priest-king, no Eye of God. But when at last they lost Bekla and fell from power, their enemies were careful to see that no bear remained to them. The chief priestess and the other women were allowed to stay on their island, but without a bear.' 'Well, the bear's returned at last. Isn't that a sure sign?'
'Ah, but wait, good honest Mollo. All is not told. When the bear returned, as you put it – when they acquired this new model – there was a chief priestess on the island – a woman with the reputation of being no fool. She knows more about disease and healing than any doctor south of the Telthearna – or north of it either, I should think. There's no doubt that she's effected a great many remarkable cures.'
'I think I've heard something about her, now you mention it, but not in connection with Shardik.'
'At the time when this bear first appeared, five or six years ago, she was the recognized and undisputed head of the cult, her office having descended regularly for God only knows how long. And this woman would have nothing to do with the attack on Bekla. She has consistently maintained that that attack was not the will of God but an abuse of the cult of the bear; and consequently she has been kept in virtual imprisonment, with a few of her priestesses, on that Telthearna island, even though the bear – her bear – is being kept in Bekla.' 'Why hasn't she been murdered?'
'Ah, dear Mollo, the penetrating realist – always straight to the point. Why, indeed, has she not been murdered? I don't know, but I dare say they fear her as a sorceress. What she has undoubtedly retained is her reputation as a healer. That was why my brother-in-law travelled a hundred and fifty miles to consult her at the end of last summer.' 'Your brother-in-law? Ammar-Tiltheh is married, then?'
'Ammar-Tildieh is married. Ah, Mollo, do I see a slight shadow cross your face, stemming, as it were, from old memories? She has the kindest memories of you, too, and hasn't forgotten nursing you after that wound which you were so reckless as to get through saving me. Well, Sildain is a very shrewd, sensible fellow -I respect him. About a year ago he got a poisoned arm. It wouldn't heal and no one in Lapan could do it any good, so at last he took it into his head to go and see this woman. He had a job to get on the island – she's kept pretty well incommunicado, it seems. But in the end they let him, partly because he bribed them and partly because they saw he'd probably die if they didn't He was in a bad way by that time. She cured him all right – quite simply, apparently, by applying some sort of mould; that's the trouble about doctors, they always make you do something revolting, like drinking bats' blood – have some more wine? – but while he was there he learned a little – not much -about the extent to which these Ortelgans have abused the cult of the bear. I say not much, because apparently they're afraid that the priestess's very existence may stir up trouble against them and she's watched and spied on all the time. But Sildain told me more or less what I've told you – that she's a wise, honourable and courageous woman; that she's the rightful head of the cult of the bear; that according to her interpretation of the mysteries there was no sign that they were divinely intended to attack Bekla; and that this man Crendrik and that other fellow – Minion, Pinion, whatever he called himself – appropriated the bear by force for their own purposes and that everything that's been done since then has been nothing but blasphemy, if that is the right term.' 'I wonder still more why they haven't murdered her.'
'Apparently it's rather the other way round – they feel the lack of her and they haven't yet given up hope of persuading her to come to Bekla. In spite of all he's done, the Crendrik man still feels great respect for her, but although he's sent several times to beg her to come, she always refuses. Unlike you, Mollo, she won't be a party to their robbery and bloodshed.'
'It still doesn't alter their extraordinary success and the confidence with which they fight. I've got every reason to support them. They've made me governor of Kabin and if they go, I go.'
'Well, they've left me as Ban of Sarkid, if it comes to that. Nevertheless, the number of hoots I give for them is restricted to less than two. Do you think I'd sell the honour of Sarkid for a few meld from these dirty, murderous -'
Mollo laid a hand on his arm, and glanced quickly sideways without moving his head. The landlord was standing just behind the settle, apparently absorbed in trimming the wick of a lamp fixed to the wall. 'Can we have
