The Sword and the Idol, by Lord Dunsany
It was a cold winter's evening late in the Stone Age; the sun had gone
down blazing over the plains of Thold; there were no clouds, only the
chill blue sky and the imminence of stars; and the surface of the sleeping
Earth began to harden against the cold of the night. Presently from their
lairs arose, and shook themselves and went stealthily forth, those of
Earth's children to whom it is the law to prowl abroad as soon as the dusk
has fallen. And they went pattering softly over the plain, and their eyes
shone in the dark, and crossed and recrossed one another in their courses.
Suddenly there became manifest in the midst of the plain that fearful
portent of the presence of Man—a little flickering fire. And the children
of Earth who prowl abroad by night looked sideways at it and snarled and
edged away; all but the wolves, who came a little nearer, for it was
winter and the wolves were hungry, and they had come in thousands from the
mountains, and they said in their hearts, "We are strong." Around the fire
a little tribe was encamped. They, too, had come from the mountains, and
from lands beyond them, but it was in the mountains that the wolves first
winded them; they picked up bones at first that the tribe had dropped, but
they were closer now and on all sides. It was Loz who had lit the fire. He
had killed a small furry beast, hurling his stone axe at it, and had
gathered a quantity of reddish-brown stones, and had laid them in a long
row, and placed bits of the small beast all along it; then he lit a fire
on each side, and the stones heated, and the bits began to cook. It was at
this time that the tribe noticed that the wolves who had followed them so
far were no longer content with the scraps of deserted encampments. A line
of yellow eyes surrounded them, and when it moved it was to come nearer.
So the men of the tribe hastily tore up brushwood, and felled a small tree
with their flint axes, and heaped it all over the fire that Loz had made,
and for a while the great heap hid the flame, and the wolves came trotting
in and sat down again on their haunches much closer than before; and the
fierce and valiant dogs that belonged to the tribe believed that their end
was about to come while fighting, as they had long since prophesied it
would. Then the flame caught the lofty stack of brushwood, and rushed out
of it, and ran up the side of it, and stood up haughtily far over the top,
and the wolves seeing this terrible ally of Man reveling there in his
strength, and knowing nothing of this frequent treachery to his masters,
went slowly away as though they had other purposes. And for the rest of
that night the dogs of the encampment cried out to them and besought them
to come back. But the tribe lay down all round the fire under thick furs
and slept. And a great wind arose and blew into the roaring heart of the
fire till it was red no longer, but all pallid with heat. With the dawn
the tribe awoke.
Loz might have known that after such a mighty conflagration nothing could
remain of his small furry beast, but there was hunger in him and little
reason as he searched among the ashes. What he found there amazed him
beyond measure; there was no meat, there was not even his row of
reddish-brown stones, but something longer than a man's leg and narrower
than his hand, was lying there like a great flattened snake. When Loz
looked at its thin edges and saw that it ran to a point, he picked up
stones to chip it and make it sharp. It was the instinct of Loz to sharpen
things. When he found that it could not be chipped his wonderment
increased. It was many hours before he discovered that he could sharpen
the edges by rubbing them with a stone; but at last the point was sharp,
and all one side of it except near the end, where Loz held it in his hand.
And Loz lifted it and brandished it, and the Stone Age was over. That
afternoon in the little encampment, just as the tribe moved on, the Stone
Age passed away, which, for perhaps thirty or forty thousand years, had
slowly lifted Man from among the beasts and left him with his supremacy
beyond all hope of reconquest.
It was not for many days that any other man tried to make for himself an
iron sword by cooking the same kind of small furry beast that Loz had
tried to cook. It was not for many years that any thought to lay the meat
along stones as Loz had done; and when they did, being no longer on the
plains of Thold, they used flints or chalk. It was not for many
generations that another piece of iron ore was melted and the secret
slowly guessed. Nevertheless one of Earth's many veils was torn aside by
Loz to give us ultimately the steel sword and the plough, machinery and
factories; let us not blame Loz if we think that he did wrong, for he did
all in ignorance. The tribe moved on until it came to water, and there it
settled down under a hill, and they built their huts there. Very soon they
had to fight with another tribe, a tribe that was stronger than they; but
the sword of Loz was terrible and his tribe slew their foes. You might
make one blow at Loz, but then would come one thrust from that iron sword,
and there was no way of surviving it. No one could fight with Loz. And he
became ruler of the tribe in the place of Iz, who hitherto had ruled it
with his sharp axe, as his father had before him.
Now Loz begat Lo, and in his old age gave his sword to him, and Lo ruled
the tribe with it. And Lo called the name of the sword Death, because it
was so swift and terrible.
And Iz begat Ird, who was of no account. And Ird hated Lo because he was
of no account by reason of the iron sword of Lo.
One night Ird stole down to the hut of Lo, carrying his sharp axe, and he
went very softly, but Lo's dog, Warner, heard him coming, and he growled
softly by his master's door. When Ird came to the hut he heard Lo talking
gently to his sword. And Lo was saying, "Lie still, Death. Rest, rest, old
sword," and then, "What, again, Death? Be still. Be still."
And then again: "What, art thou hungry, Death? Or thirsty, poor old sword?
Soon, Death, soon. Be still only a little."
But Ird fled, for he did not like the gentle tone of Lo as he spoke to his
And Lo begat Lod. And when Lo died Lod took the iron sword and ruled the
And Ird begat Ith, who was of no account, like his father.
Now when Lod had smitten a man or killed a terrible beast, Ith would go
away for a while into the forest rather than hear the praises that would
be given to Lod.
And once, as Ith sat in the forest waiting for the day to pass, he
suddenly thought he saw a tree trunk looking at him as with a face. And
Ith was afraid, for trees should not look at men. But soon Ith saw that it
was only a tree and not a man, though it was like a man. Ith used to speak
to this tree, and tell it about Lod, for he dared not speak to any one
else about him. And Ith found comfort in speaking about Lod.
One day Ith went with his stone axe into the forest, and stayed there many
He came back by night, and the next morning when the tribe awoke they saw
something that was like a man and yet was not a man. And it sat on the
hill with its elbows pointing outwards and was quite still. And Ith was
crouching before it, and hurriedly placing before it fruits and flesh, and
then leaping away from it and looking frightened. Presently all the tribe
came out to see, but dared not come quite close because of the fear that
they saw on the face of Ith. And Ith went to his hut, and came back again
with a hunting spear-head and valuable small stone knives, and reached out
and laid them before the thing that was like a man, and then sprang away
And some of the tribe questioned Ith about the still thing that was like a
man, and Ith said, "This is Ged." Then they asked, "Who is Ged?" and Ith
said, "Ged sends the crops and the rain; and the sun and the moon are
Then the tribe went back to their huts, but later in the day some came
again, and they said to Ith, "Ged is only as we are, having hands and
feet." And Ith pointed to the right hand of Ged, which was not as his
left, but was shaped like the paw of a beast, and Ith said, "By this ye
may know that he is not as any man."
Then they said, "He is indeed Ged." But Lod said, "He speaketh not, nor
doth he eat," and Ith answered, "The thunder is his voice and the famine
is his eating."
After this the tribe copied Ith, and brought little gifts of meat to Ged;
and Ith cooked them before him that Ged might smell the cooking.
One day a great thunderstorm came trampling up from the distance and raged
among the hills, and the tribe all hid away from it in their huts. And Ith
appeared among the huts looking unafraid. And Ith said little, but the
tribe thought that he had expected the terrible storm because the meat
that they had laid before Ged had been tough meat, and not the best parts
of the beasts they slew.
And Ged grew to have more honour among the tribe than Lod. And Lod was
One night Lod arose when all were asleep, and quieted his dog, and took
his iron sword and went away to the hill. And he came on Ged in the
starlight, sitting still, with his elbows pointing outwards, and his
beast's paw, and the mark of the fire on the ground where his food had
And Lod stood there for a while in great fear, trying to keep to his
purpose. Suddenly he stepped up close to Ged and lifted his iron sword,
and Ged neither hit nor shrank. Then the thought came into Lod's mind,
"Ged does not hit. What will Ged do instead?"
And Lod lowered his sword and struck not, and his imagination began to
work on that "What will Ged do instead?"
And the more Lod thought, the worse was his fear of Ged.
And Lod ran away and left him.
Lod still ruled the tribe in battle or in the hunt, but the chiefest
spoils of battle were given to Ged, and the beasts that they slew were
Ged's; and all questions that concerned war or peace, and questions of law
and disputes, were always brought to him, and Ith gave the answers after
speaking to Ged by night.
At last Ith said, the day after an eclipse, that the gifts which they
brought to Ged were not enough, that some far greater sacrifice was
needed, that Ged was very angry even now, and not to be appeased by any
And Ith said that to save the tribe from the anger of Ged he would speak
to Ged that night, and ask him what new sacrifice he needed.
Deep in his heart Lod shuddered, for his instinct told him that Ged wanted
Lod's only son, who should hold the iron sword when Lod was gone.
No one would dare touch Lod because of the iron sword, but his instinct
said in his slow mind again and again, "Ged loves Ith. Ith has said so.
Ith hates the sword-holders."
"Ith hates the sword-holders. Ged loves Ith."
Evening fell and the night came when Ith should speak with Ged, and Lod
became ever surer of the doom of his race.
He lay down but could not sleep.
Midnight had barely come when Lod arose and went with his iron sword again
to the hill.
And there sat Ged. Had Ith been to him yet? Ith whom Ged loved, who hated
And Lod looked long at the old sword of iron that had come to his
grandfather on the plains of Thold.
Good-bye, old sword! And Lod laid it on the knees of Ged, then went away.
And when Ith came, a little before dawn, the sacrifice was found
acceptable unto Ged.