"Now after a time it got to be winter and then it was spring and still pretty Lespa was sufferin' in her heart and dodgin' all her father's schemes and goin' her own way alone as far as the lads were concerned. And there were one or two-there always are, aren' there?-that she'd, sent packin', even though she did it nicely (for Lespa was never hard-spoken to anyone, though I dare say she might have been more or less forced to be a bit firm now and then-you know what some fellows can be like)-there were one or two who began sayin' there must be somethin' queer about her; pretty or not, she couldn' be a natural girl, or else she thought herself too good for anybody; and all such things as that. So she wasn' very happy, not even when the warm weather came, to hear the kynat callin' and see the brooks full of yellow spear-buds under the banks.
"Now one mornin'-one perfect spring mornin', that's how the story has it-with all the trees in new leaf, wild cherry and zoan and scented poplar an' I doan' know what-all-Lespa was told by her mother to go up to the wood and bring back a good, big faggot of sticks and maybe a log as well if she could manage it. So off she went, with the grass cool at her feet and all the daisies in bloom. But still she had thoughts for nothin' but Baltis gone to the wars. Yes, she was a girl forlorn and sad in springtime. So she wasn' in much of a hurry to get on with the business of gatherin' the sticks. She was in a mood for everythin' to seem a waste of time. She sat down by the brook for a bit and pulled some watercress; and then she just lay on the bank while the birds sang and the frogs sat on the lily
leaves in the sunshine. But after a while she supposed she'd better get on with it, so she got up and climbed over the fence and went her way into the wood.
"But she still felt lazy; and worse than that, she felt inclined to mope and not at all in the mood for puttin' up a faggot and goin' home bent double under it. It was partly the spring weather and partly her own thoughts-'nough to put anyone in two minds, kind of style. It was quiet in the wood and the morain' got hotter and hotter and still she hadn't really done any work-just a stick or two.
"After a bit she came on a pool among the trees. It was one of those nice, clear, brown pools you sometimes find: water tricklin' in one end and out the other, and no mud or dead leaves to speak of-just a clean, gravel bottom a few feet deep. She dabbled her toes in it and it didn' seem too cold at all. In fact it seemed very invitin', and in a couple of minutes Lespa had stripped off and plunged in. Well, you know how it is: you seem to leave all your cares behind when you jump into the water. She was soon feelin' in better heart, splashin' about and as happy as a thrush in the rain.
"Now as I told you, didn' I, it was the sort of spring mornin'-never a better one since the world began-that brings the gods down to earth. For to begin with, you know, the gods created the earth as a pleasure-garden for themselves; and so it still is-in places, anyway: and the gods may still come around here and there, for all I know. But be that as it may, on this particular mornin', all those long years ago, the god Shakkarn-him as was a god before even Cran and Airtha; the god of rough, country places and honest, simple folk-he'd come down to earth to enjoy the spring and the scented leaves and the bees buzzin' about in the flowers.
"Now as you know-or even if you doan', for the matter of that-when the gods take bodily shape they assume whatever form best suits their immortal truth. That's to say, whatever truth they're manifestin' at that particular time. A god or a goddess is like bread, you know: you can dip bread into wine, or gravy, or custard, or honey, or any damn' thing you like, and that's what it'll taste of, and of course it'll improve the bread as well. And I've even heard tell that with the gods, it's not a matter of choice-no, not even for them. I've heard tell that there's a power that causes a god or goddess to assume the most fittin' form;
accordin', I suppose, to such things as the time of year, the place they're visitin', the people they're manifested to and the gifts or blessin's they come to bring. A goddess might appear as a dragonfly or a moonbeam, and a god as a serpent or a leopard or an old pilgrim. It all depends. But
