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Cumner’s Son
by
“My father said in the council-room, ‘Better the strong robber than the weak coward,’ and my father never lied,” said the lad dauntlessly. The strong, tall chief, with the dark face and fierce eyes, roused in him the regard of youth for strong manhood.
“A hundred years ago they stole from my fathers the State of Mandakan,” answered the chief, “and all that is here and all that is there is mine. If I drive the kine of thieves from the plains to my hills, the cattle were mine ere I drove them. If I harry the rich in the midst of the Dakoon’s men, it is gaining my own over naked swords. If I save your tribe and Cumner’s men from the half-bred jackal Boonda Broke, and hoist your flag on the Palace wall, it is only I who should do it.”
Then he took the lad inside the house, with the great wooden pillars and the high gates, and the dark windows all barred up and down with iron, and he led him to a court-yard where was a pool of clear water. He made him bathe in it, and dark-skinned natives brought him bread dipped in wine, and when he had eaten they laid him on skins and rubbed him dry, and rolled him in soft linen, and he drank the coffee they gave him, and they sat by and fanned him until he fell asleep.
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The red birds on the window-sill sang through his sleep into his dreams. In his dreams he thought he was in the Dakoon’s Palace at Mandakan with a thousand men before him, and three men came forward and gave him a sword. And a bird came flying through the great chambers and hung over him, singing in a voice that he understood, and he spoke to the three and to the thousand, in the words of the bird, and said:
“It is fighting, and fighting for honour and glory and houses and kine, but naught for love, and naught that there may be peace.”
And the men said in reply: “It is all for love and it is all for peace,” and they still held out the sword to him. So he took it and buckled it to his side, and the bird, flying away out of the great window of the chamber, sang: “Peace! Peace! Peace!” And Pango Dooni’s Son standing by, with a shining face, said, “Peace! Peace!” and the great Cumner said, “Peace!” and a woman’s voice, not louder than a bee’s, but clear above all others, said, “Peace!”
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He awoke and knew it was a dream; and there beside him stood Pango Dooni, in his dress of scarlet and gold and brown, his broadsword buckled on, a kris at his belt, and a rich jewel in his cap.
“Ten of my captains and three of my kinsmen are come to break bread with Cumner’s Son,” said he. “They would hear the tale of our kinsmen who died against the Palace wall, by the will of the sick Dakoon.”
The lad sprang to his feet fresh and well, the linen and skins falling away from his lithe, clean body and limbs, and he took from the slaves his clothes. The eye of the chief ran up and down his form, from his keen blue eyes to his small strong ankle.
“It is the body of a perfect man,” said he. “In the days when our State was powerful and great, when men and not dogs ruled at Mandakan, no man might be Dakoon save him who was clear of mote or beam; of true bone and body, like a high-bred yearling got from a perfect stud. But two such are there that I have seen in Mandakan to-day, and they are thyself and mine own son.”
The lad laughed. “I have eaten good meat,” said he, “and I have no muddy blood.”
When they came to the dining-hall, the lad at first was abashed, for twenty men stood up to meet him, and each held out his hand and spoke the vow of a brother-in-blood, for the ride he had made and his honest face together acted on them. Moreover, whom the head of their clan honoured they also willed to honour. They were tall, barbaric-looking men, and some had a truculent look, but most were of a daring open manner, and careless in speech and gay at heart.