WHEN THOU COMEST INTO THY KINGDOM
Mary Stewart
Many years ago, in a rocky cave half way up a steep mountain, there lived a band of robbers. From the mouth of their cave they could look far out over the villages of white houses which dotted the green valley below to the blue waters of the sea beyond, and between the villages and the sea there ran a straight white road. It was there that the robbers waylaid travellers, robbing them of money, bales of rich stuff or jewels, until the band became a terror to the neighbourhood and the very name of Tibeous, their leader, was whispered fearfully among travellers.
One clear bright morning Tibeous climbed down the mountain path alone and mingled, unrecognised, among the villagers. He was young and strong and did not look very differently from the fishermen who, returning from a night’s work, were carrying their nets of shining fish across the beach and through the narrow streets. Only the eyes of Tibeous were as keen and suspicious as those of a wild animal, and often his hand went to his belt where beneath his cloak of skins he carried, for protection this time, a sharp dagger.
Through the streets he walked down to the seashore. There had been heavy rains during the night, and in the morning sunshine the tall beach grass sparkled as if hung with diamonds, the sky was blue and cloudless, and the dancing waves broke merrily upon the glittering beach. Watching the peaceful scene Tibeous forgot for a moment the errand which had drawn him from his safe retreat. By listening, unnoticed, to the talk of the village, he had hoped to learn whether any rich merchants were expected, so that he and his men could be ready to waylay them upon the road. But as he stood upon the beach watching the barefooted boys play in the waves, a picture of his own boyhood rose in his mind. He, too, had lived beside the sea and had helped his fisherman father draw in nets and carry strings of silvery fish. How happy he had been, he thought, and now for the last five years the sun seemed to have ceased shining in his life. His parents had died, and not content with the small, though honest, living he made at the fishing, he had fallen in with the band of robbers. They soon made him their leader and although younger than any of them, he was a very good one, for he did not know what fear was, was ready for any wild adventure and cared so little for the treasure he risked his life to steal that he divided it up among his followers.
But that golden morning Tibeous had forgotten all this, and as he gazed at a woman walking toward him with a boy clinging to one hand and a baby nestled against her shoulder, he thought only of his own boyhood, and of the mother who had loved and guarded him. So intently was he watching the woman that he did not notice a crowd which was collecting behind him until, warned by a sudden murmur of many voices, he turned sharply, his dagger half drawn. But the men and women had not noticed him, they were all clustering around a white-robed man, and as Tibeous turned their murmurs died away and they stood motionless, eagerly listening to the voice of the figure in their midst. Tibeous could not see his face, could not at first catch his words, but the tones of the speaker’s voice reached him, and like the ripples of the waves and the glimmer of the sunshine they reminded him afresh of his own joyous boyhood.
He saw the little boy’s hand tighten in his mother’s clasp as he urged her forward, and Tibeous was not surprised; that thrilling voice seemed to draw all toward it and he, too, followed the lad. And then, as they reached the outskirts of the crowd, the men drew back, making a pathway up to the Master, who, Tibeous now saw, was already surrounded with children. The boys and girls were looking up at him admiringly and even the baby in its mother’s arms held out its arms, as though to one to whom it belonged.
Again the Master was speaking, and as Tibeous gazed, half startled at that beautiful face, he heard the words: