Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 51: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE STAR IN THE EAST 49 _ new threat is this? How large is his army? Tell me about this King of the World. Where is he? Where?” “ He is lying in a stable amongst the straw and simple beasts. His mother, a comely peasant girl, is bending over Him. The light is dim and smoky, but a celestial radiance is about the Child. He has nothing but a clout and the kind breath of the animals to keep Him warm. “How poor they are—how magnificent!” The King subsides with a roar of laughter. “Oh Conal, Conal! What will you say next?” he shouts, tug- ging joyfully at his forked beard. ‘‘ Where is your King in that wretched hovel? ”’ “The King is the little Child covered with a clout,” replies the druid. “Nay,” cries the lord of Ireland, “ no king was ever born without gold and silver and colours and fine linen. A king in a stable! * Oh Conal, a little rude scene like that wouldn’t knock a start out of me! They are not the shining ones! He 1s no king! I know what it is—you are trying to put a disturbance on me to rouse me from my humours. “You are mocking at my foolish fears, and you are right to doso. I am restored. [| amaman anda monarch again. A king ina stable! Now that is really something for my jester. I'll away to him and make the tears run from out of his eyes with this merry catch! ” At the door he turns, standing in his wonderful clothes, his cloak of gold descending to his feet, and he says: “ But, by Angus, I will confess, Conal, that for a minute—for a minute— - id you had me frightened! The druid stands listening to the footfalls as they die away. He goes to the casement and looks out. He sees the new star in the heavens shining mildly over the land and over the world. He sees that proud red Mars and Jupiter are in the eclipse. He is about to turn into the room again when he sees a frozen redbreast lying in the snow on the window-sill. He draws in the pitiful mite and, thrusting the bird against his heart under his silk shirt, he goes and sits in the warmth of the brazier, musing, and stroking the frozen little head. He is thinking of the new star, and the new King. Some strange happiness comes to him. He smiles tenderly, secretly. Rocking a little, he suddenly says softly to the reviving bird: Fee a ee ee ee ee ie ee oe ee rh ee eee i » 9 ey 4 We Se en er ra comicloooks.Ccomn)