The Wart did not know in the least what branch he stooped from, but he dared not be found out now in his lie.
‘Madame,’ he said, ‘I am one of the Merlins of the Forest Sauvage.’
There was silence at this again, the silver silence which he had begun to fear.
‘There are the Yorkshire Merlins,’ said the honorary colonel in her slow voice at last, ‘and the Welsh Merlins, and the McMerlins of the North. Then there are the Salisbury ones, and several from the neighbourhood of Exmoor, and the O’Merlins of Connaught. I do not think I have heard of any family in the Forest Sauvage.’
‘It could be a cadet branch, Madam,’ said Balan, ‘I dare say.’
‘Bless him,’ thought the Wart. ‘I shall catch him a special sparrow tomorrow and give it to him behind Hob’s back.’
‘That will be the solution, Captain Balan, no doubt.’
The silence fell again.
At last the peregrine rang her bell. She said, ‘We will proceed with the catechism, prior to swearing him in.’
The Wart heard the spar-hawk on his left giving nervous coughs at this, but the peregrine paid no attention.
‘Merlin of the Forest Sauvage,’ said the peregrine, ‘what is a Beast of the Foot?’
‘A Beast of the Foot,’ replied the Walt, blessing his stars that Sir Ector had chosen to give him a First Rate Eddication, ‘is a horse, or a hound, or a hawk.’
‘Why are these called beasts of the foot?’
‘Because these beasts depend upon the powers of their feet, so that, by law, any damage to the feet of hawk, hound or horse, is reckoned as damage to its life. A lamed horse is a murdered horse.’
‘Good,’ said the peregrine. ‘What are your most important members?’
‘My wings,’ said the Wart after a moment, guessing because he did not know.
At this there was a simultaneous tintinnabulation of all the bells, as each graven image lowered its raised foot in distress. They stood on both feet now, disturbed.
‘Your what?’ called the peregrine sharply.
‘He said his damned wings,’ said Colonel Cully from his private enclosure. ‘And damned be he who first cries Hold, enough!’
‘But even a thrush has wings!’ cried the kestrel, speaking for the first time in his sharp-beaked alarm.
‘Think!’ whispered Balan, under his breath.
The Wart thought feverishly.
A thrush had wings, tail, eyes, legs – apparently everything.
‘My talons!’
‘It will do,’ said the peregrine kindly, after one of her dreadful pauses. ‘The answer ought to be Feet, just as it is to all the other questions, but Talons will do.’
All the hawks, and of course we are using the term loosely, for some were hawks and some were falcons, raised their belled feet again and sat at ease.
‘What is the first law of the foot?’
(‘Think,’ said friendly little Balan, behind his false primary.)
The Wart thought, and thought right.
‘Never to let go,’ he said.
‘Last question,’ said the peregrine. ‘How would you, as a Merlin, kill a pigeon bigger than yourself?’
Wart was lucky in this one, for he had heard Hob giving a description of how Balan did it one afternoon, and he answered warily, ‘I should strangle her with my foot.’
‘Good!’ said the peregrine.
‘Bravo!’ cried the others, raising their feathers.
‘Ninety per cent,’ said the spar-hawk after a quick sum. ‘That is if you give him a half for the talons.’
‘The devil damn me black!’
‘Colonel, please!’
Balan whispered to the Wart, ‘Colonel Cully is not quite right in his wits. It is his liver, we believe, but the kestrel says it is the constant strain of living up to her ladyship’s standard. He says that her ladyship spoke to him from her full social station once, cavalry to infantry, you know, and that he just closed his eyes and got the vertigo. He has never been the same since.’
‘Captain Balan,’ said the peregrine, ‘it is rude to whisper. We will proceed to swear the new officer in. Now, padre, if you please.’
The poor spar-hawk, who had been getting more and more nervous for some time, blushed deeply and began faltering out a complicated oath about varvels, jesses and hoods. ‘With this varvel,’ the Wart heard, ‘I thee endow … love, honour and obey … till jess us do part.’
But before the padre had got to the end of it, he broke down altogether and sobbed out, ‘Oh, please, your ladyship. I beg your pardon, but I have forgotten to keep my tirings.’
(‘Tirings are bones and things,’ explained Balan, ‘and of course you have to swear on bones.’)
‘Forgotten to keep any tirings?’ But it is your duty to keep tirings.’
‘I – I know.’
‘What have you done with them?’
The spar-hawk’s voice broke at the enormity of his confession. ‘I – I ate ’em,’ wept the unfortunate priest.
Nobody said anything. The dereliction of duty was too terrible for words. All stood on two feet and turned their blind heads toward the culprit. Not a word of reproach was spoken. Only, during an utter silence of five minutes, they could hear the incontinent priest snivelling and hiccoughing to himself.
‘Well,’ said the peregrine at last, ‘the initiation will have to be put off till tomorrow.’
‘If you will excuse me, Madam,’ said Balin, ‘perhaps we could manage the ordeal tonight? I believe the candidate is loose, for I did not hear him being tied up.’
At the mention of an ordeal the Wart trembled within himself and privately determined that Balin should have not one feather of Balan’s sparrow next day.
‘Thank you, Captain Balin. I was reflecting upon that subject myself.’
Balin shut up.
‘Are you loose, candidate?’
‘Oh, Madam, yes, I am, if you please; but I do not think I want an ordeal.’
‘The ordeal is customary.’
‘Let me see,’ continued the honorary colonel reflectively. ‘What was the last ordeal we had? Can you remember, Captain Balan?’
‘The ordeal, Ma’am,’ said the friendly merlin, ‘was to hang by my jesses during the third watch.’
‘If he is loose he cannot do that.’
‘You could strike him yourself, Ma’am,’ said the kestrel, ‘judiciously, you know.’
‘Send him over to stand by Colonel Cully while we ring three times,’ said the other merlin.
‘Oh, no!’ cried the crazy colonel in an agony out of his remoter darkness. ‘Oh no, your ladyship. I beg of you not to do that. I am such a damned villain, your ladyship, that I do not answer for the consequences. Spare the poor boy, your ladyship, and lead us not into temptation.’
‘Colonel, control yourself. That ordeal will do very well.’
‘Oh, Madam, I was warned not to stand by Colonel Cully.’
‘Warned?