one evening aurelius was telling mr stodham about the “battle of the green and scarlet.” “it took place in your country,” said he to the good man, too timid to be incredulous.
“no,” answered mr stodham, “i never heard of it.”
“you shall,” said aurelius, and told the tale.
“the first thing that i can remember is that a tall, gaunt man in green broke out of a dark forest, leaping extravagantly, superhumanly, but rhythmically, and wildly singing; and that he was leading an army to victory. as he carved and painted himself on my mind i knew without effort what had gone before this supreme moment.
“it was late afternoon in winter. no light came from the misted, invisible sky, but the turf of the bare hill-top seemed of itself to breathe up a soft illumination. where this hill-top may be i know not, but at the time of[178] which i am speaking i was on foot in broad daylight and on a good road in the county of hampshire.
“the green man, the extravagant leaper and wild singer, broke out of the hillside forest at the head of a green army. his leaping and his dancing were so magnificent that his followers might at first have been mistaken for idle spectators. the enemy came, clad in scarlet, out of the forest at the opposite side of the hill-top. the two were advancing to meet upon a level plateau of smooth, almost olive turf....
“for days and nights the steep hillside forest had covered the manœuvres of the forces. except one or two on each side they had seen and heard nothing of one another, so dark were the trees, the mists so dense and of such confusing motion; and that those few had seen or heard their enemies could only be guessed, for they were found dead. day and night the warriors saw pale mist, dark trees, darker earth, and the pale faces of their companions, alive or dead. what they heard was chiefly the panting of breathless men on the steeps, but sometimes also the drip of the sombre crystal mist-beads, the drenched flight of great birds and their shrieks of alarm or of resentment[179] at the invaders, the chickadeedee of little birds flitting about them without fear, the singing of thrushes in thorns at the edges of the glades.
“in the eventless silence of the unknown forest each army, and the scarlet men more than the green, had begun to long for the conflict, if only because it might prove that they were not lost, forgotten, marooned, in the heart of the mist, cut off from time and from all humanity save the ancient dead whose bones lay in the barrows under the beeches. therefore it was with joy that they heard the tread of their enemies approaching across the plain. when they could see one another it was to the scarlet men as if they had sighted home; to the green men it was as if a mistress was beckoning. they forgot the endless strange hills, the dark trees, the curst wizard mist. it no longer seemed to them that the sheep-bells, bubbling somewhere out of sight, came from flocks who were in that world which they had unwillingly and unwittingly left for ever.
“the scarlet men were very silent; if there were songs in the heads of two or three, none sang. they looked neither to left nor to right; they saw not their fellows, but only the enemy. the breadth of the plain was very great to them.[180] with all their solidity they could hardly endure the barren interval—it had been planned that they should wait for the charge, but it was felt now that such a pause might be too much for them. ponderous and stiff, not in a straight line, nor in a curve, nor with quite natural irregularity, but in half a dozen straight lines that never made one, they came on, like rocks moving out against the tide. i noticed that they were modern red-coats armed with rifles, their bayonets fixed.
“the green men made a curved irregular front like the incoming sea. they rejoiced separately and together in these minutes of approach. and they sang. their song was one which the enemy took to be mournful because it had in it the spirit of the mountain mists as well as of the mountains. it saddened the hearts of the enemy mysteriously; the green men themselves it filled, as a cup with wine, with the certainty of immortality. they turned their eyes frequently towards their nearest companions, or they held their heads high, so that their gaze did not take in the earth or anything upon it. the enemy they scarcely saw. they saw chiefly their leaping leader and his mighty twelve.
“the first love of the scarlet men for the enemy[181] had either died, or had turned into hate, fear, indignation, or contempt. there may have been joy among them, but all the passions of the individuals were blended into one passion—if such it could be called—of the mass, part contempt for the others, part confidence in themselves. but among the green men first love had grown swiftly to a wild passion of joy.
“the broad scarlet men pushed forward steadily.
“the tall green hero danced singing towards them. his men leaped after him—first a company of twelve, who might have been his brethren; then the whole green host, lightly and extravagantly. the leader towered like a fountain of living flame. had he stood still he must have been gaunt and straight like a beech-tree that stands alone on the crest of a sea-beholding hill. he was neither young nor old—or was he both young and old like the gods? in his blue eyes burnt a holy and joyous fire. he bore no weapon save a dagger in his right hand, so small that to the enemy he appeared unarmed as he leaped towards them. first he hopped, then he leaped with one leg stretched forward and very high, and curved somewhat in front of the other, while at the same time[182] the arm on the opposite side swung across his body. but, in fact, whenever i looked at him—and i saw chiefly him—he was high in the air, with his head uplifted and thrown back, his knee almost at the height of his chin. he also sang that seeming sorrowful melody of the mountain joy, accented to an extravagant exultation by his leaping and the flashing of his eyes.
“if he had not been there doubtless the twelve would have astonished the scarlet men and myself just as much, for they too were tall, danced the same leaping dance, sang the mountain song with the same wild and violent joy, and were likewise armed only with short daggers.
“suddenly the leader stopped; the twelve stopped; the green army stopped; all were silent. the scarlet men continued to advance, not without glancing at one another for the first time, with inquiry in their looks, followed by scorn; they expected the enemy to turn and fly. they had no sooner formed this opinion than the tall green leader leaped forward again singing, the twelve leaped after him, the sea-like edge of the green army swayed onward. almost a smile of satisfaction spread over the stiff faces of their opponents, for there was now but a little distance between the armies; how[183] easily they would push through that frivolous prancing multitude—if indeed it ever dared to meet their onset. this was the one fear of the scarlet men, that the next minute was not to see the clash and the victory, that they would have to plunge once more into the forest, the mist, the silence, after a foe that seemed to them as inhuman as those things and perhaps related to them.
“suddenly again the green leader was rigid, his song ceased. the twelve, the whole green army, were as statues. a smile grew along the line of the scarlet men when they had conquered their surprise, a smile of furious pity for such a dancing-master and his dancing-school—a smile presently of uneasiness as the seconds passed and they could hear only the sound of their own tread. the silence of all those men unnerved them. now ... would the green men turn? some of the scarlet men, eager to make sure of grappling with the enemy, quickened their step, but not all. the green men did not turn. once again the dance and the song leaped up, this time as if at a signal from the low sun which smote across the green leader’s breast, like a shield, and like a banner. wilder than ever the dance and the song of the green men.[184] the scarlet men could see their eyes now, and even the small daggers like jewels in the hands of the leaders. some were still full of indignant hate and already held the dancers firm on the points of their bayonets. some thought that there was a trick, they knew not how it might end. some wished to wait kneeling, thus to receive the dancers on their steadfast points. some were afraid, looking to left and right for a sign. one tripped intentionally and fell. the line became as jagged as if it were a delicate thing blown by the wind. the green leader cut the line in two without stopping his dance, leaving his dagger in the throat of a rifleman. not one of the twelve but penetrated the breaking line in the course of the dance. the whole green army surged through the scarlet without ceasing their song, which seemed to hover above them like spray over waves. then they turned.
“the scarlet men did not turn. they ran swiftly now, and it was their backs that met the spears of the green men as they crowded into the forest. the tall, weaponless, leaping singer seemed everywhere, above and round about, turning the charge and thrust of the green men into a lovely and a joyous thing like the arrival of spring in march, making the very trees[185] ghastly to the scarlet fugitives running hither and thither silently to their deaths. not one of the defeated survived, for the few that eluded their pursuers could not escape the mist, nor yet the song of the green leader, except by death, which they gave to themselves in sadness.
“i cannot wonder that the hero’s dancing and singing were not to be withstood by his enemies, since to me it was divine and so moving that i could not help trying to imitate both song and dance while i was walking and dreaming.”
“nothing like that ever happened to me,” said mr stodham. “but i thought you meant a real battle. it was lucky you weren’t run over if you were dreaming like that along the road.”
“i suppose i was not born to be run over,” said aurelius.
