the jacket (the star-rover)-第35章

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captured　piece　or　pawn　is　not　removed　from　the　board。　　It　becomes

the　property　of　the　captor　and　is　thereafter　played　by　him。



Well；　I　taught　Oppenheimer　this　gamea　far　more　difficult

achievement　than　our　own　game；　as　will　be　admitted；　when　the

capturing　and　recapturing　and　continued　playing　of　pawns　and　pieces

is　considered。　　Solitary　is　not　heated。　　It　would　be　a　wickedness　to

ease　a　convict　from　any　spite　of　the　elements。　　And　many　a　dreary

day　of　biting　cold　did　Oppenheimer　and　I　forget　that　and　the

following　winter　in　the　absorption　of　Cho…Sen　chess。



But　there　was　no　convincing　him　that　I　had　in　truth　brought　this

game　back　to　San　Quentin　across　the　centuries。　　He　insisted　that　I

had　read　about　it　somewhere；　and；　though　I　had　forgotten　the

reading；　the　stuff　of　the　reading　was　nevertheless　in　the　content　of

my　mind；　ripe　to　be　brought　out　in　any　pipe…dream。　　Thus　he　turned

the　tenets　and　jargon　of　psychology　back　on　me。



〃What's　to　prevent　your　inventing　it　right　here　in　solitary？〃　was

his　next　hypothesis。　　〃Didn't　Ed　invent　the　knuckle…talk？　　And　ain't

you　and　me　improving　on　it　right　along？　　I　got　you；　bo。　　You

invented　it。　　Say；　get　it　patented。　　I　remember　when　I　was　night…

messenger　some　guy　invented　a　fool　thing　called　Pigs　in　Clover　and

made　millions　out　of　it。〃



〃There's　no　patenting　this；〃　I　replied。　　〃Doubtlessly　the　Asiatics

have　been　playing　it　for　thousands　of　years。　　Won't　you　believe　me

when　I　tell　you　I　didn't　invent　it？〃



〃Then　you　must　have　read　about　it；　or　seen　the　Chinks　playing　it　in

some　of　those　hop…joints　you　was　always　hanging　around；〃　was　his

last　word。



But　I　have　a　last　word。　　There　is　a　Japanese　murderer　here　in

Folsomor　was；　for　he　was　executed　last　week。　　I　talked　the　matter

over　with　him；　and　the　game　Adam　Strang　played；　and　which　I　taught

Oppenheimer；　proved　quite　similar　to　the　Japanese　game。　　They　are

far　more　alike　than　is　either　of　them　like　the　Western　game。







CHAPTER　XVII







You；　my　reader；　will　remember；　far　back　at　the　beginning　of　this

narrative；　how；　when　a　little　lad　on　the　Minnesota　farm；　I　looked　at

the　photographs　of　the　Holy　Land　and　recognized　places　and　pointed

out　changes　in　places。　　Also　you　will　remember；　as　I　described　the

scene　I　had　witnessed　of　the　healing　of　the　lepers；　I　told　the

missionary　that　I　was　a　big　man　with　a　big　sword；　astride　a　horse

and　looking　on。



That　childhood　incident　was　merely　a　trailing　cloud　of　glory；　as

Wordsworth　puts　it。　　Not　in　entire　forgetfulness　had　I；　little

Darrell　Standing；　come　into　the　world。　　But　those　memories　of　other

times　and　places　that　glimmered　up　to　the　surface　of　my　child

consciousness　soon　failed　and　faded。　　In　truth；　as　is　the　way　with

all　children；　the　shades　of　the　prison…house　closed　about　me；　and　I

remembered　my　mighty　past　no　more。　　Every　man　born　of　woman　has　a

past　mighty　as　mine。　　Very　few　men　born　of　women　have　been　fortunate

enough　to　suffer　years　of　solitary　and　strait…jacketing。　　That　was

my　good　fortune。　　I　was　enabled　to　remember　once　again；　and　to

remember；　among　other　things；　the　time　when　I　sat　astride　a　horse

and　beheld　the　lepers　healed。



My　name　was　Ragnar　Lodbrog。　　I　was　in　truth　a　large　man。　　I　stood

half　a　head　above　the　Romans　of　my　legion。　　But　that　was　later；

after　the　time　of　my　journey　from　Alexandria　to　Jerusalem；　that　I

came　to　command　a　legion。　　It　was　a　crowded　life；　that。　　Books　and

books；　and　years　of　writing　could　not　record　it　all。　　So　I　shall

briefen　and　no　more　than　hint　at　the　beginnings　of　it。



Now　all　is　clear　and　sharp　save　the　very　beginning。　　I　never　knew　my

mother。　　I　was　told　that　I　was　tempest…born；　on　a　beaked　ship　in　the

Northern　Sea；　of　a　captured　woman；　after　a　sea　fight　and　a　sack　of　a

coastal　stronghold。　　I　never　heard　the　name　of　my　mother。　　She　died

at　the　height　of　the　tempest。　　She　was　of　the　North　Danes；　so　old

Lingaard　told　me。　　He　told　me　much　that　I　was　too　young　to　remember；

yet　little　could　he　tell。　　A　sea　fight　and　a　sack；　battle　and

plunder　and　torch；　a　flight　seaward　in　the　long　ships　to　escape

destruction　upon　the　rocks；　and　a　killing　strain　and　struggle

against　the　frosty；　foundering　seaswho；　then；　should　know　aught　or

mark　a　stranger　woman　in　her　hour　with　her　feet　fast　set　on　the　way

of　death？　　Many　died。　　Men　marked　the　living　women；　not　the　dead。



Sharp…bitten　into　my　child　imagination　are　the　incidents　immediately

after　my　birth；　as　told　me　by　old　Lingaard。　　Lingaard；　too　old　to

labour　at　the　sweeps；　had　been　surgeon；　undertaker；　and　midwife　of

the　huddled　captives　in　the　open　midships。　　So　I　was　delivered　in

storm；　with　the　spume　of　the　cresting　seas　salt　upon　me。



Not　many　hours　old　was　I　when　Tostig　Lodbrog　first　laid　eyes　on　me。

His　was　the　lean　ship；　and　his　the　seven　other　lean　ships　that　had

made　the　foray；　fled　the　rapine；　and　won　through　the　storm。　　Tostig

Lodbrog　was　also　called　Muspell；　meaning　〃The　Burning〃；　for　he　was

ever　aflame　with　wrath。　　Brave　he　was；　and　cruel　he　was；　with　no

heart　of　mercy　in　that　great　chest　of　his。　　Ere　the　sweat　of　battle

had　dried　on　him；　leaning　on　his　axe；　he　ate　the　heart　of　Ngrun

after　the　fight　at　Hasfarth。　　Because　of　mad　anger　he　sold　his　son；

Garulf；　into　slavery　to　the　Juts。　　I　remember；　under　the　smoky

rafters　of　Brunanbuhr；　how　he　used　to　call　for　the　skull　of　Guthlaf

for　a　drinking　beaker。　　Spiced　wine　he　would　have　from　no　other　cup

than　the　skull　of　Guthlaf。



And　to　him；　on　the　reeling　deck　after　the　storm　was　past；　old

Lingaard　brought　me。　　I　was　only　hours　old；　wrapped　naked　in　a　salt…

crusted　wolfskin。　　Now　it　happens；　being　prematurely　born；　that　I

was　very　small。



〃Ho！　ho！a　dwarf！〃　cried　Tostig；　lowering　a　pot　of　mead　half…

drained　from　his　lips　to　stare　at　me。



The　day　was　bitter；　but　they　say　he　swept　me　naked　from　the

wolfskin；　and　by　my　foot；　between　thumb　and　forefinger；　dangled　me

to　the　bite　of　the　wind。



〃A　roach！〃　he　ho…ho'd。　　〃A　shrimp！　　A　sea…louse！〃　　And　he　made　to

squash　me　between　huge　forefinger　and　thumb；　either　of　which；

Lingaard　avers；　was　thicker　than　my　leg　or　thigh。



But　another　whim　was　upon　him。



〃The　youngling　is　a…thirst。　　Let　him　drink。〃



And　therewith；　head…downward；　into　the　half…pot　of　mead　he　thrust

me。　　And　might　well　have　drowned　in　this　drink　of　menI　who　had

never　known　a　mother's　breast　in　the　briefness　of　time　I　had　lived

had　it　not　been　for　Lingaard。　　But　when　he　plucked　me　forth　from　the

brew；　Tostig　Lodbrog　struck　him　down　in　a　rage。　　We　rolled　on　the

deck；　and　the　great　bear　hounds；　captured　in　the　fight　with　the

North　Danes　just　past；　sprang　upon　us。



〃Ho！　ho！〃　roared　Tostig　Lodbrog；　as　the　old　man　and　I　and　the

wolfskin　were　mauled　and　worried　by　the　dogs。



But　Lingaard　gained　his　feet；　saving　me　but　losing　the　wolfskin　to

the　hounds。



Tostig　Lodbrog　finished　the　mead　and　regarded　me；　while　Lingaard

knew　better　than　to　beg　for　mercy　where　was　no　mercy。



〃Hop　o'　my　thumb；〃　quoth　Tostig。　　〃By　Odin；　the　women　of　the　North

Danes　are　a　scurvy　breed。　　They　birth　dwarfs；　not　men。　　Of　what　use

is　this　thing？　　He　will　never　make　a　man。　　Listen　you；　Lingaard；

grow　him　to　be　a　drink…boy　at　Brunanbuhr。　　And　have　an　eye　on　the

dogs　lest　they　slobber　him　down　by　mistake　as　a　meat…crumb　from　the

table。〃



I　knew　no　woman。　　Old　Lingaard　was　midwife　and　nurse；　and　for

nursery　were　reeling　decks　and　the　stamp　and　trample　of　men　in

battle　or　storm。　　How　I　survived　puling　infancy；　God　knows。　　I　must

have　been　born　iron　in　a　day　of　iron；　for　survive　I　did；　to　give　the

lie　to　Tostig's　promise　of　dwarf…hood。　　I　outgrew　all　beakers　and

tankards；　and　not　for　long　could　he　half…drown　me　in　his　mead　pot。

This　last　was　a　favourite　feat　of　his。　　It　was　his　raw　humour；　a

sally　esteemed　by　him　delicious　wit。



My　first　memories　are　of　Tostig　Lodbrog's　beaked　ships　and　fighting

men；　and　of　the　feast　hall　at　Brunanbuhr　when　our　boats　lay　beached

beside　the　frozen　fjord。　　For　I　was　made　drink…boy；　and　amongst　my

earliest　recollections　are　toddling　with　the　wine…filled　skull　of

Guthlaf　to　the　head　of　the　table　where　Tostig　bellowed　to　the

rafters。　　They　were　madmen；　all　of　madness；　but　it　seemed　the　common

way　of　life　to　me　who　knew　naught　else。　　They　were　men　of　quick

rages　and　quick　battling。　　Their　thoughts　were　ferocious；　so　was

their　eating　ferocious；　and　their　drinking。　　And　I　grew　like　them。

How　else　could　I　grow；　when　I　served　the　drink　to　the　bellowings　of

drunkards　and　to　the　skalds　singing　of　Hialli；　and　the　bold　Hogni；

and　of　the　Niflung's　gold；　and　of　Gudrun's　revenge　on　Atli　when　she

gave　him　the　hearts　of　his　children　and　hers　to　eat　while　battle

swept　the　benches；　tore　down　the　hangings　raped　from　southern

coasts；　and；　littered　the　feasting　board　with　swift　corpses。



Oh；　I；　too；　had　a　rage；　well　tutored　in　such　school。　　I　was　but

eight　when　I　showed　my　teeth　at　a　drinking　between　the　men　of

Brunanbuhr　and　the　Juts　who　came　as　friends　with　the　jarl　Agard　in

his　three　long　ships。　　I　stood　at　Tostig　Lodbrog's　shoulder；　holding

the　skull　of　Guthlaf　that　steamed　and　stank　with　the　hot；　spiced

wine。　　And　I　waited　while　Tostig　should　complete　his　ravings　against

the　North　Dane　men。　　But　still　he　raved　and　still　I　waited；　till　he

caught　breath　of　fury　to　assail　the　North　Dane　woman。　　Whereat　I

remembered　my　North　Dane　mother；　and　saw　my　rage　red　in　my　eyes；　and

smote　him　with　the　skull　of　Guthlaf；　so　that　he　was　wine…drenched；

and　wine…blinded；　and　fire…burnt。　　And　as　he　reeled　unseeing；

smashing　his　great　groping　clutches　through　the　air　at　me；　I　was　in

and　short…dirked　him　thrice　in　belly；　thigh　and　buttock；　than　which

I　could　reach　no　higher　up　the　mighty　frame　of　him。



And　the　jarl　Agard's　steel　was　out；　and　his　Juts　joining　him　as　he

shouted：



〃A　bear　cub！　　A　bear　cub！　　By　Odin；　let　the　cub　fight！〃



And　there；　under　that　roaring　roof　of　Brunanbuhr；　the　babbling

drink…boy　of　the　North　Danes　fought　with　mighty　Lodbrog。　　And　when；

with　one　stroke；　I　was　flung；　dazed　and　breathless；　half　the　length

of　that　great　board；　my　flying　body　mowing　down　pots　and　tankards；

Lodbrog　cried　out　command：



〃Out　with　him！　　Fling　him　to　the　hounds！〃



But　the　jarl　would　have　it　no；　and　clapped　Lodbrog　on　the　shoulder；

and　asked　me　as　a　gift　of　friendship。



And　south　I　went；　when　the　ice　passed　out　of　the　fjord；　in　Jarl

Agard's　ships。　　I　was　made　drink…boy　and　sword…bearer　to　him；　and　in

lieu　of　other　name　was　called　Ragnar　Lodbrog。　　Agard's　country　was

neighbour　to　the　Frisians；　and　a　sad；　flat　country　of　fog　and　fen　it

was。　　I　was　with　him　for　three　years；　to　his　death；　always　at　his

back；　whether　hunting　swamp　wolves　or　drinking　in　the　great　hall

where　Elgiva；　his　young　wife；　often　sat　among　her　women。　　I　was　with

Agard　in　south　foray　with　his　ships　along　what　would　be　now　the

coa