Drift off with The Return of the Exiles by Lord Dunsany, a short, strange and haunting little tale set among the ancient stones of Stonehenge, read aloud by Martin Hewlett on Books at Bedtime, the sleep story series from Calming Anxiety.
Cycling across the English countryside one day, the narrator comes upon two very old men sitting by the roadside: one with a hammer and a blackened, hole-filled leather apron, the other with one eye and a spear. They seem shabby, humble and oddly apologetic. Touching his greasy cap, the one with the hammer asks the way to Stonehenge. "After all these years," they keep murmuring to each other, "we might just go back, just once."
The narrator points the way and rides on, but when he reaches the great stone circle himself, he finds a solemn group of about twenty men already waiting among the stones, as if expecting someone. And before long, the two strange old men come striding up the road. Who are they, and why have they been away so very long? Dunsany leaves just enough unsaid to set your imagination wandering as you drift towards sleep.
The story
Transcribed from the audio, so the odd word may be off. Tap any line while it plays to keep the words in step with Martin's voice.
Books at bed time by calming anxiety, the return of the exiles by Lord Dunsany.
The old man with a hammer and one eyed man with a spear was seated by the roadside, talking as I came up the hill. It isn't as though they hadn't asked us, the one with the hammer said, "There ain't no more than 20 years knows about it," said the other. 20's 20 said the first. After all these years said the one eyed man with a spear.
After all these years, we might just go back just once. Of course we might said the other. Their clothes were old, even for labourers. The one with the hammer had a leather apron full of holes and blackened, and their hands looked like leather.
But whatever they were, they were English, and this was pleasant to see, after all the motors that had passed me that day, with their burden of mixed and doubtful nationalities.
When they saw me, the one with the hammer touched his greasy cap. "Might we make so bold, sir," he said, and asked the way to stonehenge. We never walked to go, mumble the other plaintilly. There's not more than 20's knows, but I was bicycling there myself to see the place, so I pointed out the way and rode on at once.
But there was something so utterly servile about them both, that I did not care for their company. They seemed, by their wretched mean, to have been persecuted, or utterly neglected for many years. I thought that very likely, they had done long terms of penile servitude. When I came to stonehenge, I saw a group of about a score of men standing among the stones.
They asked me, with some solemnity, if I was expecting anyone, and when I said no, they spoke to me no more. It was three miles back, where I left those strange old men. But it had not been in the stone circle long, when they appeared, coming with great strides along the road. When they saw them all, the people took off their hacks and acted very strangely.
And I saw that they had a goat which they led up, then to the old altar stone. And the two old men came up with their hammer and spear, and began apologising plaintively for the liberty that they had taken, and coming back to that place. And all the people knelt on the grass before them. And then still kneeling, they killed the goat by the altar.
And when the two old men saw this, they came up with many excuses, and eagerly sniffed the blood. And at first, this made them happy, but soon the one with the spear began to whimper. It used to be men, he lamented. It used to be men.
And the twenty men began looking uneasily at each other, and the plaint of the one eyed man went on to that tearful voice, and all of a sudden they all looked at me. I do not know who the two old men were, or what any of them were doing. But there are moments when it is clearly time to go, and I left them there and then. And just as I got up onto my bicycle, I heard the plaintive voice of one with the hammer apologising for the liberty he had taken in coming back to Stonehenge.
But after all these years, I heard him crying, after all these years. And the one with the spear said yes, after three thousand years.