









                        Chapter XXXI

                        The Initiate


You may, perhaps, have wondered why a man so full of human
failings, and set in so unheroic a mould as Master Nathaniel
Chanticleer should have been cast for so great a role.  Yet
the highest spiritual destinies are not always reserved for
the strongest men, nor for the most virtuous ones.
   But though he had been chosen as Duke Aubrey's deputy and
initiated into the Ancient Mysteries, he had not ceased to
be in many ways the same Master Nathaniel as of old --
whimsical, child-like, and, often, unreasonable.  Nor, I
fear, did he cease to be the prey of melancholy.  I doubt
whether initiation ever brings happiness.  It may be that
the final secret revealed is a very bitter one... or it may
be that the final secret had not yet been revealed to Master
Nathaniel.
   And, strange to say, far from being set up by his new
honours, he felt oddly ashamed of them -- it was almost as
if he was for the first time running the gauntlet of his
friends' eyes after having been afflicted by some physical
disfigurement.
   
   When things had returned again to their usual rut, Master
Ambrose came to spend a quiet evening with Master Nathaniel.
   They sat for some time in silence puffing at their pipes,
and then Master Ambrose said, "Tell me what your theory is
about Endymion Leer, Nat.  He was a double-dyed villain, all
right, I suppose?"
   Master Nathaniel did not answer at once, and then he said
thoughtfully, "I suppose so.  I read the report of his
defence, however, and his words seemed to me to ring true. 
But I think there was some evil lurking in his soul, and
everything he touched was contaminated by it, even fairy
fruit -- even Duke Aubrey."
   "And that spiritual sin he accused himself of... what do
you suppose it was?"
   "I think," said Master Nathaniel slowly, "he may have
mishandled the sacred objects of the Mysteries."
   "What are these sacred objects, Nat?"
   Master Nathaniel moved uneasily in his chair, and said,
with an embarrassed little laugh, "Life and death, I
suppose."  He hated being asked about these sorts of things.
   Master Ambrose sat for a few moments pondering, and then
he said, "It was curious how in all his attacks on you he
defeated his own ends." 
   "Yes," cried Master Nathaniel, with much more animation
than he had hitherto shown, "that was really very curious. 
Everything he did produced exactly the opposite effect he
had intended it should.  He feared the Chanticleers, and
wanted to be rid of them, so he gets Ranulph off to
Fairyland, whence nobody had ever before returned.  And he
manages to get me so discredited that I have to leave Lud,
and he thinks me safely out of the way.  But, in reality, he
was only bringing about his own downfall.  I have to leave
Lud, and so I go to the farm, and there I find old
Gibberty's incriminating document.  While the fact of
Ranulph's having gone off yonder sends me after him, and
that is why, I suppose, I come back as Duke Aubrey's
deputy," and again he gave an embarrassed laugh; and then
added dreamily, "It is useless to try and circumvent the
Duke."
   "`He who rides the wind needs must go where his steed
carries him," quoted Master Ambrose.
   Master Nathaniel smiled, and for some minutes they puffed
at their pipes in silence.
   Then Master Nathaniel gave a reminiscent chuckle: "Those
were queer months that we lived through, Ambrose!" he
cried.  "All of us, that's to say those of us who had parts
to play, seemed to be living each others' dreams or dreaming
each others' lives, whichever way you choose to put it, and
the most incongruous things began to rhyme -- apples and
bleeding corpses and trees and ghosts.  Yes, all our dreams
got entangled.  Leer makes a speech about men and trees, and
I find the solution of the situation under a herm, which is
half a man and half a tree, and you see the juice of fairy
fruit and think that it is the dead bleeding -- and so on. 
Yes, my adventures went on getting more and more like a
dream till... the climax," and he paused abruptly.
   A long silence followed, broken at last by Master
Ambrose.  "Well, Nat," he said, "I think I've had a lesson
in humility.  I used to have as good an opinion of myself as
most men, I think, but now I've learned that I'm a very
ordinary sort of fellow, made of very inferior clay to you
and my Moonlove -- all the things that you know at first
hand and I can only take on faith."
   "Suppose, Ambrose, that what we know at first hand is
only this -- that there is nothing to know?" said Master
Nathaniel a little sadly.  Then he sank into a brown study,
and Master Ambrose, thinking he wanted to be alone, stole
quietly from the room.
   Master Nathaniel sat gazing moodily into the fire; and
his pipe went out without his noticing it.  Then the door
opened softly, and someone stole in and stood behind his
chair.  It was Dame Marigold.  All she said was, "Funny old
Nat!" but her voice had a husky tenderness.  And then she
knelt down beside him and took him into her soft warm arms. 
And a new hope was borne in upon Master Nathaniel that
someday he would hear the Note again, and all would be
clear.
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