“We have their symbol,” he said, “because we have all symbols—the symbols of all eternity—reaching to the very limits of the darkness behind us, to the uttermost limit of the light before us. We are the sons of the Sacred Tree—and all knowledge is with us, and all desire, and all ecstasy!”
Beside them was a group of frenzied worshippers cutting their naked bodies with flints; their cries broke in upon the silver of the Druids’ voices in notes of brass.
The youth upon the saddle had closed his eyes; he swayed a little as though he had already drunk of the mead which the people were spilling and drinking.
“You are ours,” cried the voice of the Druid, “ours! But you reel and sicken at our incense as the bee, fresh from the cell, reels and sickens at a field of clover!”
The young warrior opened his eyes. His face was as white as the Druid robes around him. He leant forward in his saddle—his eyes were wide with hunger—the hunger of fierce, stifled excitement. With one sweeping glance he took in all the scene before him—the struggling hosts that seemed to circle to the far horizon—the smoke blending with the dark sky above—the stars blending with the distant fires—the distant fires that brought the dull glitter of far bog and quagmire into the play of universal flame. Burning flame that added crimson to the flowing blood—flesh to the glancing steel—gold to the poured-out mead—and snow to the naked limbs of the frenzied dancers.
His ears were deafened by savage yells, screams of pipes and cries of terror-stricken brutes.
Suddenly he leapt to his feet on his saddle—the flame danced on his brandished sword and on his eyes—fire seemed to fill his veins.
A battle-cry rang from his mouth. Something fiercer than love of battle came upon him—bloodshed, and steel, and mead, and women, and danger urged him forward into what looked like a whirlwind of fire and weapons.
He sprang with a savage cry to the arms of those awaiting him. He drained the horn of mead held to his lips. The jewelled fastenings of his robe were unclasped—and seizing sword and shield he flew, naked limbed and quivering, into the mazes of sword and fire.