"Oh how wretchedIs that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!"Shakespeare.
"Oh how wretchedIs that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!"
Shakespeare.
Sigurd, after the rebuff he had received at the hands of Oswald, sped him on his way to Scotland, aflame with a wrath which was about equally divided between Oswald and the Normans. He was accompanied by some half-dozen of his followers. And there, at the court of Malcolm of Scotland, he laid before the Prince Atheling his scheme for the recovery of the kingdom.
Now, Prince Edgar was a weak, voluptuous prince, who spent his days in dissipation, and surrounded by foreign parasites; but he was universally acknowledged to be the legitimate heir to the throne of England. Every one who knew him intimately had little hope of his ever winning it by force of arms, or of his worthily filling it, if it should ever be wrested from the grasp of the astute William. The Conqueror well knew the weakness of this princeling, and with consummate policy he kept him well supplied with money, knowing that if he had the means to gratify his vicious and effeminate disposition, he would not be easily moved to undertake any dangerous or arduous enterprise.
But the Atheling, like all weak and vacillating natures, could be false or fickle to his master William at very short notice. He was capable also, in a vain and feeble sort of way, of grasping at the English sceptre, for no better or nobler motive than the desire to gratify his childish vanity, and to further indulge his voluptuous and sensual habits.
There was nothing in common between the fierce and fiery descendant of the Vikings, Sigurd, and this weathercock of princely descent. Sigurd was as valorous and uncompromising as the Atheling was ease-loving and cowardly. Still, it was quite easy for this enthusiast to infuse into the Prince's mind most exaggerated ideas of the rally of the Saxons under Oswald, and to lead him to believe that the prospect of regaining the throne of England was easy of achievement. He also managed to fan into a flame the petty jealousies of which the prince was capable, by representing to him that Oswald was intent on asserting his own claims to the kingdom.
It was a matter of profound surprise to us, and not a little consternation also, when scarcely a month had elapsed from the date of Sigurd's expulsion from the camp, to find that Saxon runners everywhere throughout the kingdom were conveying the Prince's summons to all Saxon leaders, outlaws, and ecclesiastics, together with a certain number of freemen, and churls, who, according to Saxon laws, had the right to attend these parliaments, or witans, of the nation. The witan was summoned to meet in Lakesland, one of the wildest and most inaccessible parts of Northumbria. Oswald and I were summoned, and a number of those who owned Oswald's chieftainship.
We weighed carefully this matter, and we could not rid ourselves of the apprehension that Sigurd somehow was at the bottom of it, seeing that thebodeswho bare these summonses were followers of the Jarl.
Personally, I was much averse to the project, being unable to see what good could come of it, in our present feeble and distracted state. But Oswald considered it desirable that we should obey this summons as loyal Saxons. Accordingly, a company of us, under the leadership of Oswald, started for this rendezvous amid the Lakes. We were compelled to use the utmost secrecy in our movements, and travel by night, as the Normans were still thickly posted throughout the north. It would certainly have been most dangerous to travel by day, even with so small a company as ours. We were practically but two days march from the place of rendezvous. So we started after nightfall on the first day, and, by steadily pressing on, we covered one-half the distance, arriving ere it was daylight at a place of refuge evidently well known to our leader, but which came as a revelation to me, for we came upon a band of Saxons near to an inlet of the sea, which ran into a thickly wooded headland. Here were a company of hardy men, partly fisherman, and partly traders and freebooters, who owned a vessel capable of carrying a considerable cargo; which bare sometimes Saxon refugees to foreign lands, at other times engaged in peaceful trading with distant ports, and had frequently been employed by armed bands of Saxons for the purpose of making swift descents upon their foes in various parts of the kingdom. From this source I found that wines and breadstuffs, as well as munitions of war, had systematically been supplied to the Saxon outlaws. I was told voyages were frequently made, not only to Ireland and Scotland, but even to ports on the Mediterranean sea.
Here we rested for the day, and at nightfall we went aboard this vessel; and, the wind being favourable, in a couple of hours they ran us across the bay of Morcam, landing us in sight of the Westmoreland hills, and certainly saving us more than a twenty miles' trudge. We were now within some eight miles of our destination, and still had the most of the night before us. Our sailor friends were able to tell us, also, that there was no encampment of Normans within many miles of our route; so we continued our march for an hour or two at a steady pace, without the slightest alarm or molestation. At last, our path lay through a narrow pass or defile in the mountains, and we were rapidly drawing near to the rendezvous. We now found it necessary to move with the utmost caution, for the path was rugged and narrow, and there was an eeriness about the place which was suggestive of anything uncanny. Huge boulders frequently confronted us, looming up out of the darkness so suddenly as quite to take my breath away. Oswald and I were a trifle ahead of the others, and were discussing to ourselves as to what could be the purpose of the Prince, in summoning at so unpropitious a time the Saxon witan.
"Does the Prince intend to take up arms, think you, my lord?" said I to Oswald.
"I expect little from the Atheling, Father, of that sort of thing. He is fickle, cowardly, and dissolute into the bargain. He dallied at the court of Malcolm at our last effort at York, until the cause was lost; and he sped him back again, and never stayed to strike a single blow. I am afraid some hare-brained purpose moves him, or some petty ambition which is unworthy of a prince, and which he will not back with any force of character, or any persistence. He will simply provoke a revolt which cannot be successful, whilst at the very first repulse he will vanish, and leave his unhappy followers to the relentless extermination policy of William."
"You have no faith in revolt, I think?"
"None whatever. It is absolutely hopeless. If we had but had a leader at York, brave and skilful as our last King Harold, and one who could have united us, the thing was half assured. But now Saxon graves hold prisoner for ever the flower of our people; and to attempt to offer an organised opposition to the Norman forces—why, it were sheer madness. The only two points in the kingdom where any show of resistance is made, is our own little colony, and in Lincolnshire, where Hereward still precariously holds out."
"But does not the Prince know this, think you? Or is he incapable of grasping the situation?"
"The Prince, I have already intimated, is not a factor worth considering for a moment. I very strongly suspect that Sigurd is at the bottom of this. He, I believe, has stirred the Prince up either to ambition or to jealousy, and I should not wonder if I were arraigned as traitor as a preliminary to some madcap exploit of Sigurd's. Do not be in the least surprised if this gathering ends in dire mischief and disunion."
"What is that?" we both exclaimed in a breath, as we saw the figure of a man dart from behind a huge boulder, and swiftly run along the pass ahead of us.
"I like not that," said Oswald. "He has no friendly motive, I warrant;" and he at once drew his sword, and called Wulfhere. "Your Grace had better take second rank," said he to me. Then, halting a moment till the company drew near, he addressed them.
"Men, have all your weapons ready."
Immediately every swordsman's blade gleamed in the darkness, and every archer's bow was unslung, and an arrow affixed.
"Rear guard!" said he, in an undertone.
"Aye, aye!" responded two gruff voices, which I knew to be Badger's and Bretwul's.
"Beware! and be ready; and keep close up. Now, men, let us move steadily forward."
So we pressed slowly and steadily forward, Oswald and Wulfhere passing no boulder or obstruction without first carefully peering behind it to see if any foe ambushed there. Suddenly there was a halt, the sword of Oswald was uplifted, and I could descry a muffled human figure standing in the centre of the path.
"Who art thou?" said Oswald. "Speak, or I will cleave thee from head to foot."
"Listen!" said the figure. "I am the shadow of a vanishing race. When Saxon hates Saxon and is greedier than greedy hawk for Saxon's blood; and when Saxon loves Norman habits, and makes friends of the hated oppressor; what hope is there of a restoration of the old race! If the Fates have decreed it, well—'tis enough. I only ask for a grave in some lonely spot, where the groans of my people will not disturb my long repose. But beware, Saxons! there are fierce enemies abroad—Saxon, too. Beware! The would-be avenger has a sharp sword, and will not stay his hand. So beware! the swoop of the eagle is swift and strong, and his talons are sharp."
With that, the strange figure turned and fled along the pass with the speed of a mountain roe.
"That is a strange visitant," I said. "The voice might be the voice of a woman. I almost fancied I had heard it before."
"In any case, it is the voice of a friend. The warning is unmistakable; the enemy to be dreaded is Saxon also," said Oswald.
I began to wish most devoutly that the night were past. My nerves were quite unstrung, and the yelp of a fox, or wolf, in the vicinity, the flap-flap, of the night-owl's wing, or the scurrying footsteps of the rabbits, set me in a violent tremble. Oswald headed the party forward, though I would most gladly have called a halt, and waited for the clay. We quickly found that our troubles were not yet past, for not a quarter of a mile had been traversed since our last visitant, when suddenly, and without warning, we were beset behind and before by armed men, who hurled themselves upon us with the fury of wild beasts. Oswald had only time to raise his shield to save himself from the furious stroke of some powerful enemy. Before I had time to realise it, friend and foe were laying about them with the fury of madmen. No sooner did I grasp the situation than immediately I rushed to the front, though it was at the imminent peril of my life. Lifting up the sacred emblem of my office, I cried,—
"Peace! In God's name, I charge peace!"
At the sight of the blessed cross the assailants recoiled a pace or two.
"Who are you?" I cried. "Saxon or Norman?"
"They are Saxon," said Oswald. "I know well who aimed the blows at my life. 'Tis Sigurd, one professing to be of our nation."
"I am not of thy nation, dastardly renegade, dancing attendance upon Norman wenches, and warring in silken hose."
"If I warred with as little sense and as little skill as thyself, I should soon be as impotent as thou art, and have never a Saxon left me to lead to battle."
"Sigurd," said I, in as authoritative tone as I could command, and still holding up the emblem of peace and goodwill to men, "I charge you, in God's name, that you call off your men, and cease this fratricidal strife."
"What care I, monk," said he fiercely, "for thy God? He is the God of cowards, and not of warriors."
But having breathed out this defiance, he gathered up a wounded comrade who had felt the keenness of Wulfhere's sword, and, without uttering another word, he headed his men for the hills.
"Now, my lord," said I, "what is to be done? This, I fear, is only a precursor of trouble and discord at our witan. I would you were willing even now to beat a retreat, nor take further risks to yourself and men, in so bootless an errand.
"The Prince professedly has summoned me, and I would not draw back until fully assured that mutual council is profitless," said Oswald.
"Let me go forward, my lord, and meet the Prince. I think my sacred office will protect me. If I think good will come of this gathering, I will communicate with you."
"No, Father; no man shall ever say I failed to respond to the call of my Prince, despisable though I believe him to be. Nor will my duty to my race and to my country permit me to stand aloof from this witan, for God knows we have need both of council and of all the wisdom left to us. But, nevertheless, I have no faith in this gathering. The Prince, I doubt me, is an indolent sensualist, and, like all weak-minded men, most easily provoked into jealousy. The ominous figure we have just met is deeply involved in this scheme, I am now sure. A sturdy, valorous man, and a foeman of direst sort, but utterly incapable of moderation. He cherishes a mortal hatred of me, and I now know that I shall take my life in my hand when I enter the council; but that is a risk which gives me no uneasiness. So let us advance, for the light, I see, is breaking over the tops of the mountains, and very soon we shall have the day."
So, nerving ourselves for any contingency, we continued our march. This had now become much pleasanter, and infinitely easier, in consequence of the approach of day.
By-and-by we drew aside into a sheltered dell, in order to partake of our morning meal, which we despatched as hastily as possible, in order that we might reach the rendezvous early. We had not journeyed far, however, before we were accosted by a man, who emerged from behind a heap of stones at the head of the pass, and surveyed us narrowly.
"Saxons?" said he.
"Aye, Saxons all," we replied.
"What say ye?"
"Down with the Normans!" we replied.
"Right," said he. "Down with the Normans!" Then he gave us sundry directions as to the nearest route to the place of meeting. We found this route to be again somewhat difficult; for such a stern, wild country it is difficult to imagine, much more to describe. We again entered a narrow defile between two frowning and rugged hills, and in a little while this defile opened out into a magnificent, amphitheatre-like vale, enclosed with lofty peaks and rugged hills on every hand, whilst below us there lay a magnificent sheet of water in the centre of the valley, with thick woods running around it; the bald and boulder-strewn hills towering high above all, most imposing in their rugged grandeur and might. Underneath them, the valley was most bewitching in the loveliness of its umbrageous woods. As outlets to this beautiful valley, there were but the pass we had descended, and another narrow defile at the foot of the lake, where the water made its exit. Involuntarily we came to halt. Indeed, the prospect before us was at once so wild, and yet so charming, that we could not but stand and gaze, enchanted with the scene.
"Now, Father," said Oswald, "what think you of Lakesland?"
"Well," said I, "lovely as our beloved Craven is, it pales before this magnificent country."
"Yes; and the strength of it! Had Sigurd but a tithe of moderation and self-restraint, there are no Norman forces in this Northumberland that could drive him out."
Well, we resumed our march by rounding the head of the lake by a difficult and tangled forest path. This done, we continued our journey down the opposite side of the valley and along the side of the lake, until eventually we were taken in hand by one of a group of men, evidently set for the purpose, and by him we were conducted to a yeoman's dwelling, embowered in trees of massive girth on all sides. The habitation was similar to the rough but substantial dwellings we were all familiar with. There were some considerable outbuildings and an enclosure carefully fenced round by a lofty wall, and evidently intended for the protection of the sheep and cattle at night, during the winter months; for the wolves were wont to pack, sometimes in considerable numbers, and become very daring and vicious, when the pinch of hunger was upon them.
As soon as we entered this enclosure, we found there was assembled already a goodly company of men of various grades, all of them armed to the teeth. Many of them were evidently Saxons who had held considerable positions in the land prior to the coming of the Normans, though now evidently much broken. The scared and suspicious looks with which they scrutinised every new-comer, told plainly that they were much used to treachery, and familiar with double-dealing. There were also numbers who were clearly men of war. The look of defiance on their countenances, and the well-stocked quivers over their shoulders, told plainly they were chiefs of the bold outlaws who lived by the might of their trusty swords, and their long bows. No one could misunderstand their fierce and daring attitude.
There were some also who, by their armour, had evidently learned something of the methods of war pursued by the Normans. Indeed, as we have said, before the coming of William, large numbers of the Normans had thronged the court of the pious Edward, and Saxon noblemen in goodly numbers had practised the joust at tournaments, adopting Norman weapons, affecting a budding errantry, and talking Norman French. There was here also a goodly number of the humbler ranks; for, according to old Saxon law, not only freemen, but even villeins and churls had the right of representatives at the witanagemot, or council. Oswald immediately joined himself to a company of these men of knightly appearance, many of whom he knew, having fought side by side with them at York.
Sigurd I quickly espied, standing with another group of the old stock, rude, unlettered, and primitive in habit and dress. I could easily see, without seeming to notice or observe them narrowly, that these men viewed with no favourable eye what they were wont to call the pranking of Norman manners and dress on the part of Oswald and the others I have spoken of. It was plainly to be seen, also, that Sigurd had done something to inflame their minds against Oswald, for they eyed him savagely and suspiciously.
I proceeded, however, at once to the house place, to make my obedience to Prince Edgar, who, with certain of his personal friends, awaited the assembling of the members of the witan. The Prince was dressed in a rich velvet dress, with elaborate fringing of silk, and for a head-dress the hat and feather worn by Norman courtiers. He was also accompanied by a Norman favourite, a most truculent parasite, of a vain and dissipated appearance, and, as I thought, a very unsuitable companion for a prince who preferred claims to the Saxon throne.
Elaborate arrangements had evidently been made for display, and for the comfort and luxury of the Prince. He was accompanied by his cook, his valet, and several serving-men; whilst he had, with infinite trouble to the servants, brought with him wines, and delicacies, and dainties, which were to me no good augury, and which, do as I would, I could not but despise in one who made pretence of so desperate an enterprise as the overthrow of the Norman rule in England. For, view it as we might, a most desperate enterprise it most surely was.
At the appointed hour for the council to begin, a chair was brought out of doors, and placed in such a position that its occupant could command a view of the whole company. Over this chair a richly-embroidered cover was thrown, and the Prince immediately took possession of it; whilst the Norman favourite came behind, and ostentatiously placed a crown upon his head. This burlesque of royalty was expected to produce a shout of loyal enthusiasm from the assembled company; but, with the exception of his own followers, not a whisper of applause greeted it, though the marks of derision on the countenances of many of the Saxons were open and undisguised.
Now, as the senior ecclesiastic present, it became my lot to read what the Prince was pleased to call the "Royal Proclamation," calling this meeting of the witan, which being done, the Prince next addressed the company. In pompous and affected tones he said,—
"Reverend fathers, valiant knights and liegemen, I have called together my faithful witan to consider the state of our unhappy country, and what may best be done for the recovery of my rights as the lawful King of England. To this end I seek your advice; and not only so, but I further lay my commands upon you, as my faithful subjects, liegemen, and vassals, to help me in this enterprise. To this end I would further insist that it is necessary that you should lay aside all purposes of individual self-assertion, and join yourselves and your forces to the general movement. Now, whilst speaking on this head, I may say, with shame and regret, it has been reported to me that sundry knights, of whom I expected better things, are not true to our cause, but are acting without regard to the claims of myself as the lawful King of England, and are setting up a separate authority; warring according to methods not sanctioned by me or my faithful witan. I hear there are those who are willing to forfeit their allegiance to me, and, for their own personal ends, going even so far as to seek a servile alliance with our foes, to the betrayal of the Saxon cause. Now let it be known to you that I claim the undivided allegiance of all Saxons, and that I purpose with rigour to punish all traitors to my cause and to my kingdom. I have been too long slighted and set at naught by my lieges and vassals, and I would know what of it? There are loyal men and true in your ranks, I know, who despise and hate such factious conduct as much as I do myself; and I call upon all who can bear testimony to this flagrant disloyalty on the part of certain of my subjects, to stand forth and declare it at this council, for I purpose with utmost rigour to punish all factionists and traitors who are cringingly seeking alliances with the Norman foe."
At this invitation Sigurd stepped from the ranks, and said,—
"Puissant Prince, if it be your will, I have a charge to make against Oswald the Ealdorman, son of Ulfson, who is now present. As he well knows, I have made this charge to his face, that he has built a fortress for himself and all such churls and freemen as are willing to acknowledge his chieftainship. I charge him also with speaking slightingly of your Highness's valour, and your ability to regain your rightful throne. I charge him also with endeavouring to enter into cowardly alliance with the Norman foe—promising, if certain meagre concessions be made to him, he will withhold his followers from rebellion, and all endeavours to resist the Normans. I charge him with attempting to gain a dishonourable alliance with the house of De Montfort. Which several charges I have attempted to make good at the sword's point. And I call upon him now to answer for it with his life, as all traitors and trucemakers should."
"If Oswald the Ealdorman be present, I call upon him to make such answer as best he can against the charges preferred by our valiant and trusty knight, Sigurd the Saxon Dane, who, by his fealty to us and his zeal for the Saxon cause, has won our hearty trust and confidence."
At this summons Oswald stepped forth a pace or two, and, removing his helmet and visor, said, in firm and unfaltering tones,—
"Sire, may I be bold enough to ask if this is the purpose for which valiant knights and lieges have been summoned from far and near?"
"Silence, dog! and answer the charges made against thee! Then we shall consider the weightier matters appertaining to our realm. But we will have an answer to these charges."
"The charges, sire, made against me by the Jarl, are the creation of his own heated brain; and the reason he has brought them hither is because he failed ignobly to make them good with his weapons. I decline altogether to wrangle out with him this petty personal quarrel in presence of this assembly. If we are to consider matters of greater moment, matters which concern our country and the present desperate state of the Saxon cause, then I am prepared to offer my poor services, either in this council or in face of our common foe."
"Well said, Sir Knight!" cried a gruff voice, which belonged to the leader of a party of knights who had entered the enclosure during the foregoing dialogue, and whose seedy and travel-stained garments, and rusty arms and accoutrements, bore ample token of much exposure and much rough usage.
"Sirrah!" shouted the Prince, waxing wroth at the bold front and fearless language of Oswald, "dost thou presume to answer thy King after this fashion? By my halidame, if this continues there will be never a scurvy clown in my kingdom who will not think he may beard his Prince with impunity. But I will know whither all this is tending. I have long had my eye upon that boorish and untamed son of Earl Leofric, whom men call Hereward, who is carrying on warfare in the Fen country—palpably for his own ends and his own glory, for he never so much as acknowledges my sovereignty or sends his dutiful submission to me. Now thou dost presume to imitate the conduct of the braggart Hereward, and must needs collect an army for thy own personal advantage, and not for the glory of thy Prince. Men of my faithful witan, I call upon you to note this, for I have determined I will rid the Saxon cause of all such disloyal traitors."
"'Tis pity, sire," said Oswald, in tones in which anger and contempt were mingled, "that you never thought it worth your while to collect an army for yourself, or at least to place yourself at the head of one collected for you. We would fain see what kind of stuff our Prince is made of. Will you tell this witan, Prince, where you were when so many good lives were lost at York in your cause?"
"Well spoken, sir!" shouted the gruff voice, with even more emphasis than before.
"Dost thou call in question my valour, villain!" roared the Prince. "By our Lady, I'll have no more of thy effrontery, dog! Disarm him, loyal knights!"
Immediately half a dozen of the Saxon leaders sprang forward at the bidding of the Prince; but they quailed before Oswald as they saw the broadsword whipped from its scabbard, and perform a swift circle in the air.
"Here's to thee, with all my heart, Sir Knight! I like thy metal!" said the stranger knight, as he sprang to Oswald's side, brandishing a huge sword; whilst his followers quickly ranged themselves on the same side, ready for the fray.
"Treason! treason!" almost screamed the Prince, in abject terror, starting from his seat and preparing to beat a retreat.
I gently laid my hand on his shoulder, and said, "Have patience, sire. These men mean no harm, only they are not wont to receive such harsh rebukes."
This seemed to reassure him, for, addressing the unknown knight, he said,—
"Who art thou who thus boldly takes sides with this traitor to my cause?"
The stranger made no answer, but slowly removed his headgear. Immediately a score of voices shouted, "The Wake! the Wake! 'Tis Hereward!"
"Yes," said Hereward. "I am the Wake, whom thou hast been cowardly charging with treason. Hark! Dost thou think Hereward is going to peril life and limb, or waste precious lives, to set such a dolt on the throne of England as thou hast proved thyself this day; and on the former occasion, when we met at York, for instance? Marry, no! A niddering who flies for his life at the first approach of danger is not fit to wield a sceptre in these lands. A Prince who fosters faction, and is pettishly jealous of braver men than himself, had better turn monk; ashavencrown would better become thee than the Crown of England."
"By the blessed Virgin, I vow I will humble thy pride, dog, ere I have done with thee! I will not be bullied in my own witan, though thou be a son of Earl Leofric!"
"Ah, well," said Hereward, with a sneer, "thou art of the wrong metal thyself, but if thou hast a knight brave enough to cross a sword on thy behalf, let him stand forth, and I will oblige him with a bout; 'twould be a little diversion in this fool's errand of ours."
"I will champion the Prince, braggart; with a curse on thee for thy base-hearted treachery to thy wife Torfrida!" shouted the brave and choleric Sigurd, rushing forward and brandishing his sword in the face of Hereward.
Instantly there was such a clamour of voices, clash of swords, and dire confusion, in the arena, that I was terrified at this tumult of fierce and angry passions. Oswald and I rushed in between these fierce combatants and called aloud for peace, which with the utmost difficulty we obtained. Seeing the strange state of frenzy in which most present were, I urgently requested that all further discussion should cease for the day.
"Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,As shallow streams run dimpling all the way."Pope.
"Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,As shallow streams run dimpling all the way."
Pope.
"I say, Alred!" exclaimed the Atheling to the Norman parasite who had accompanied him hither, as they sat drinking wine the same evening, "what sayest thou to the baiting thy Prince has had to-day? I have no stomach for more. Malediction on them!"
"Heyday, so say I! Scrambling over moor and bog hither was bad enough, but parleying with quarrelsome thanes and with vulgar braggart churls such as these, I would not endure with a kingdom thrown into the bargain. Your Majesty probably thinks different."
"Whew! Not I, Alred! These garlic-bred swine have no more regard for the person of a prince than for a scurvy villein. A malediction on them! They would pick my bones within a week, were I to attempt to rule them. By the bye, that huge Danish boor stood by me. I wish he had been at the bottom of the sea, for all that, when he enticed me on this fool's errand. What is the lout's name? Sigurd?"
"The same, my lord. But be advised, for at bottom he's as loutish and as snarling as the very worst of them, and I would not trust my head in his jaws for a moment; for as we passed him but yesterday, in our courtly attire, I heard him under his breath snorting and grumbling like a boar with a spear between his ribs. The churl! Would he have his Prince dress like a scurvy swineherd?"
"Beshrew me, Alred, I never could make pretence of ruling such unwashen clowns. And then, into the bargain, every snarling villein elects to be king over his own starveling crew, and there would be a king for every rood of land in England. I'll no more of it, Alred! I thank Heaven my skin is whole to go back to Scotland with."
"A wise resolve, I swear. Make further oath of fealty to William, and take his subsidies. Then heigho! for a jolly life at the court of Malcolm! or, what is better still, to Rouen, where summer's sun tarries longer, and winter's frosts pinch not the daintiest fingers. There dark-eyed beauties are kinder, and easier in the wooing. That is Alred's philosophy. Canst thou gainsay the wisdom of it, my Prince?"
"Alred, thou know'st well the joints of my armour; thou hast pierced a vulnerable spot. I vow thou hast waked one pleasant memory, sweet Alred; and there is but one sunny spot in this dreary wilderness of insubordination and braggadocia."
"What is it, my Prince? Has some nymph awoke the tender passion of love in thy breast?"
"Rightly guessed, Alred! Did'st thou mark the fair Saxon, whose fiery zeal for our cause has been so marked. I did not fail to notice she marked me much and often, and I flatter myself her admiration extends not only to our cause, but also to our royal person. How sayest thou? By our Lady, a prize like that would be some recompense for our sickening and intolerable journey over the wretched moors atween us and Scotland."
"Thou hast the eye of an eagle, puissant Prince, or, to be more correct, the eye of a vulture. I had hoped this pretty bird would fall to my net. But alas! thy eye has seen this comely virgin, and I am undone, I trow. Why, I have already pranked myself before her with some success; but now I shall lose my quarry."
"Come, come, my jackal! don't despise thine office. Why, man, I never grudge thy picking the bones, when our royal self hath fed."
"Small thanks is enow for what is left when your gorge rises at it,—with my humble submission."
"Enough, enough! Canst thou get speech of her? Thou canst bear a message which should be gratefully received. Tell her her Prince would like to tender her his special thanks for her great zeal and devotion to his cause; and invite her hither."
"Have a care, my Prince, and bait your hook daintily. Think you you will catch your fish with the bare hook? By all the saints, I tell you I saw forked lightning playing about her eyes when I incautiously gave play to a little premature pleasantry. Nothing but an imperturbable and brazen countenance prevented my being transfixed with a thunderbolt. It would be better to make a great show of bravery, and talk of plans for the recovery of the kingdom; throwing in battles, sieges, and valorous hotch-potch of that sort, by the bushel. You will have to tie this filly with a pretty long tether, or you are undone, for she's high-spirited and mettlesome enough for anything."
"Good, my ambassador-in-chief; thy wisdom never fails. Would I had my kingdom, sweet Alred, if 'twere only that I might make thee lord high chancellor! To be forewarned is to be forearmed: the net shall be a silken one. But now not another word, for expectancy is on tiptoe. Do thine errand, and I will bestow on thee further tokens of my regard if good luck go with thee."
"Pardon me, sire! If I am qualified to be lord high chancellor, I am qualified to give a little further advice in this matter."
"What is it, Alred? Prithee, come to the point at once: none of thy sermons. When I am king thou shalt be court preacher, if thou affect that office; but spare me now, an' thou lovest me."
"Well, here it is. When fair maids of this quality have favours to grant, mark me, they will have it done daintily. Faugh! What do you take her for? Don't trust to second-hand dealings too much. Vulgar eyes looking on at it! Pshaw! What a stomach you credit her with! Listen. This must be a grand passion; you are entranced, bewitched, dying for very love of the matchless queen of your heart! Mark me, pitch your notes high if you would have this pretty bird come fluttering to your bower. Why, canst thou not rhyme a maudlin verse or two? Come, cudgel thy brains, and I will help thee with a stave; here are writing materials."
"Ha, ha, ha! I like thy notions. Come, thou shalt draw us up a rhyme, such as the gallant knights of Normandy address to their lady-loves. By my soul, I am three parts Norman, and the other part is not Saxon. So I'll superscribe no screeching Saxon verse. I declare 'tis a language which is a cross between the screech of a witch and the grunt of a hog. Something elegant, or I'll none of it, mark me, Alred."
"Well, it shall be something lofty, I warrant, as becomes a prince. So here goes:—
"Fair maid of the flaxen hair,And eyes of the heavenly blue,"——
"Fair maid of the flaxen hair,And eyes of the heavenly blue,"——
"Bravo! Ha, ha, ha! Go it, sweet Alred? 'Tis fine! I'll sing that at my lady's tent door. Get me thy guitar."
"Pray don't interrupt me, my King. The poetic fire is burning; don't let us miss the glow of it.
"Fair maid of the flaxen hair,And eyes of the heavenly blue,Whose graces bewitchingly rareHave sweetly enchanted my view."Oh! haste to thy Prince ever true,Whose adored one ever thou art.Thy presence shall sweetly renewThe joy to my languishing heart."
"Fair maid of the flaxen hair,And eyes of the heavenly blue,Whose graces bewitchingly rareHave sweetly enchanted my view.
"Oh! haste to thy Prince ever true,Whose adored one ever thou art.Thy presence shall sweetly renewThe joy to my languishing heart."
"Bravo! By my soul, Alred, I swear 'tis fine! 'Twould fetch St. Elizabeth from her pedestal."
"Well, if it will do, draw us up your proposal atop of it, sire, and I'll try its effect upon this dainty bird of a Saxon."
"Nay, marry! not I, Alred. I'll not spoil thy elegant rhyme by adding to't my bungling prose. Finish up thy letter handsomely, as 'tis begun, and I'll affix my seal."
"By our Lady, I'll promise many things, then, which thou wilt not perform, I warrant. Here it is; listen to't,—
"'Fair Saxon,—Thy Prince is entranced, bewitched, by thy incomparable loveliness. My throne, my kingdom, were nothing compared with thee. Come to me; I vow to make thee the proudest dame in England. Fly to the arms of your impatient, expectant lover,"'Edgar the Atheling.'
"'Fair Saxon,—Thy Prince is entranced, bewitched, by thy incomparable loveliness. My throne, my kingdom, were nothing compared with thee. Come to me; I vow to make thee the proudest dame in England. Fly to the arms of your impatient, expectant lover,
"'Edgar the Atheling.'
"Now affix your sign-manual, sire. I warrant this would make the hearts of half the damsels at the court of Malcolm frantic with delight. Mark me, this falcon will strike his quarry quick; if not, I vow I will not fly another this side Martinmas. Wish me luck, and a share in the spoil anon, my Prince."
So saying, Alred buttoned up his doublet, buckled on his sword, and, with the rakish air of an unprincipled Norman gallant, he swaggered off to the tent of Ethel. There, after many foppish grimaces, and much foolish adulation, he delivered the missive into her hands; adding to it suggestions and explanations which Ethel scarce comprehended, and we cannot chronicle.
"This hand, to tyrants ever sworn the foe,For freedom only deals the deadly blow;Then sheathes in calm repose the vengeful blade,For gentle peace in freedom's hallowed shade."John Quincy Adams.
"This hand, to tyrants ever sworn the foe,For freedom only deals the deadly blow;Then sheathes in calm repose the vengeful blade,For gentle peace in freedom's hallowed shade."
John Quincy Adams.
My vespers were done, and I was bethinking me of retiring to rest, when I heard the plaintive voice of Ethel beseeching me to let her come within my tent. I had scarce time to reply when the poor child came rushing into my tent, bathed in tears, and in great distress. I soothed her as best I could. Then I gently inquired as to the cause of her grief, when, without answering me, she thrust into my hand the letter of the Prince. "I scarce know what he means," she said, burying her face in her hands.
I read the letter with a burning sense of shame and indignation, and my heart ached for this poor child who, in the purity of her patriotism and her unquenchable love for her country and the Saxon cause, had braved this rough journey and its exposure, in the hope that her woman's devotion might nerve the arms of the remnant of Saxon leaders still left to the cause. But this ghastly unmasking of a Prince who was false, fickle, shameless, and altogether worthless, was a cruel wound to her—a wound that would fester and rankle, but was destined never to heal again. She quietly lifted her tear-stained face, and timidly inquired, "Is it as I feared, Father?"
"Alas! my child," said I, "'tis a vile, dishonouring missive, and altogether without excuse. To come from a prince, and from a would-be king also—'tis sad to think of it."
"My country! my unhappy country! what will become of thee?" was the heart-broken exclamation as she fell at my feet, her long, fair hair falling in dishevelled tresses around.
"Comfort thee, my poor child," said I, though I scarce had heart or hope for anything. I endeavoured to calm her with such soothing, hopeful words as I had at command; but I saw that words were in vain.
"Father," said she, "my life is a weary burden. My people's woes are breaking my heart. I had vainly hoped that our scattered and hunted people might have been rallied by the presence amongst them of their Prince—that factions would have come together, and a bold stand might have been made for liberty; but to find my Prince so poor in valour and so rich in all cowardly and licentious feeling—so bereft of honour and chivalry as to offer dishonourable proposals to a forlorn and wretched girl like myself—this is more than I can bear. I have watched and prayed these two nights, hoping that favouring Heaven would smile upon us again, and upon this council. But as I watched in lonely vigil, I could hear no answering voice, saving the soughing of the night-winds in the passes of these lonely hills; and they seemed to bear no message to me, saving a message of desolation and death. Is there any rest, any joy, for one like me in life, Father? Surely the grave is the only hope for me!"
"My poor child," said I, "let us not think of death until He who gave us life shall say 'It is enough.' Let us obey, and submit to the chastening hand of our Father in heaven. Perhaps we err greatly in cherishing thoughts of resistance and of bloodshed. Let us rejoice that there is a kingdom which is stable, and which shall know no end; whose Prince is the Prince of Peace. Angels are its heralds, and saints its warriors. Love and mercy are the twin pillars of our Prince's throne; and gentle hands and loving hearts may battle for His supremacy. 'Tis a Kingdom in which torn and bleeding hearts may find the herb called heartsease, and sweet content. Into this Kingdom let us press, my child, and for it let us contend, for the kingdoms of this world are fickle, and built up on fraud and wrong; and they will ultimately shrivel up and pass away like the mists of the morning, and be no more."
"I fear me, Father, that the fierce war-spirit of my ancestors reigns in my heart. I am more than half heathen, it seems to me. I have been hoping for revenge for a murdered father and brother, and for a ravished country. They tell me the fair Torfrida, forsaken by her lord, this Hereward, has taken shelter in the monastery of Crowland. Shall I join her there? This fierce agitation is more than I can bear."
"What does thy heart say, Ethel?"
"My heart is not to be trusted, Father, for 'tis wayward and wilful, and there is strong need for some curb, some overmastering restraint, to crush its fierce revolt."
"Thine, I fear, Ethel, is not the nature to bear easily the constraints of the cloister, unless it were first schooled by the iron rod of discipline. Listen to nature's own prompting; I fancy it declares strongly for the freer life of the camp and the field. There is scope for activity, and I think a fair measure of protection, where Oswald is. On his virtue, wisdom, and valour, much depends, and I believe he will be equal to winning many privileges for us."
"Father, may I confide a maiden's secret to thee? I love him whom thou hast named. 'Twere heaven, indeed, to share his toils and privations—nay, even to be near him. But 'tisagony, and soon I fear it will besin. His heart has fallen captive to a Norman lady who saved his life, and I know he cannot be mine. Advise me, Father, in this sore strait, I beseech you."
"Thy love is unknown to him, my child, is it not?"
"He knows not; I could not bear it for one hour if he knew it."
"'Tis a hard lesson, my poor child, but thou mayest have to learn that theessenceof love issacrifice. The human heart will not be hindered here, but will raise its own altar, free of all dictation. Alas! full oft it must offer itself, and be both priest and victim. Many are the sad hearts that here have offered sacrifice before thy day. Alas! many here will offer a hopeless, heart-consuming sacrifice when thou art gone. If it should be that there is demanded of thee a painful act of self-renouncement, strength and fortitude are always given us when we are minded to do a brave deed. I shall be near, my child; let us await what Providence has in store for us calmly. Lie down upon my couch, and rest. I will lay this matter before our people, and I will not be long."
I immediately gathered up the letter, which had fallen at my feet, and betook myself to the yeoman's dwelling-house, and knocked at the door. There was immediately a hush of voices, and some one under his breath said, "Who knocks?" "Adhelm," said I. My voice was well known to many who were inside, and the door was opened without more ado. Gathered here, evidently in secret conclave, were Sigurd and a number of the followers of the Prince. Their lowering brows told me plainly that mischief was brewing; nevertheless, I determined to execute my purpose, come what might. The Prince said,—
"What wouldest thou have with us, reverend Father? We are now discussing purposes of bloodshed, unfitted, I fear, for saintly ears. But if thou wilt be brief, our royal pleasure shall be at thy service."
"I am afraid my message is one which can scarcely be welcome to your Highness's ears; nevertheless, it is enjoined upon a bishop that he be found faithful."
"Well, be faithful an' thou wilt, Bishop; but let not thy exordium be drawn out any longer than is necessary. So to the point without further prevarication, an' it please you."
"Well, to the point then, Prince," said I. "I hold in my hands an epistle, which purports to have come from your Highness, and is addressed to the Saxon maiden, Ethel. I would fain know if it is indeed from yourself."
"What have I to do to answer thy impertinent questions, priest?" said he, snatching the letter from my hands.
"Since it is so, and as I feared, I have to denounce thee, Prince, as becomes my office; and I say fearlessly that the offering of dishonouring proposals such as these to a virtuous and gentle maiden, is an act of unblushing infamy, and I disown thee and thy cause."
"I am a thousand times thy debtor, dog of a priest, if thou wilt rid me of thy presence, and of all such eavesdropping carrion, who worm themselves into the secrets of silly wenches, to the annoyance of their betters."
"Stay a moment, sire," said Sigurd, who was evidently in a towering rage. "I would know further of this matter. If thou hast offered an insult to this girl, to this Ethel,Ihave something to say to thee, as well as this priest. Let me see that letter," said he, striving to take it from the Prince's hand; but the Prince hastily drew back, and attempted to tear it in pieces. Sigurd instantly grasped him with his iron fists, and wrung the letter from him as though he were a child; then, handing it to me, he said, "Read it for us, priest. I have no scholar's gear."
I took the epistle and read it in the hearing of the assembled company. When I had finished it, Sigurd drew his sword, and stalking up to the Prince, he said,—
"I will cut thy craven soul from thy craven body for offering this insult to the daughter of Beowulf."
Half a dozen hands, however, immediately grasped him, and kept him from his purpose; but, standing like a tiger at bay, his words coming hissing through his foaming lips with tumultuous rage, he shouted,—
"I disown thee, too, dastardly villain, for I perceive there is not a drop of honest blood, either Saxon or Skald, in thy craven body! Get thee gone quickly, for I warn thee to pollute no longer Saxon soil with thy loathsome, cowardly presence. And beware, too! for if to-morrow's sun finds thee within reach of my arm, I will avenge this insult in thy coward's blood."
I confess I could not but look with admiration on this sturdy descendant of the Viking rovers. Though he was rough and uncouth as the wild hills of Westmoreland, over which he had hunted and fought from his youth, yet he loved the beautiful Ethel with a love as deep and pure as a mother's—a love so utterly unselfish that he would willingly renounce his hope and his claim, nor murmur if Ethel's love should find its requital in the love of Oswald. But he was beside himself with rage when he found that this fair Saxon, whose love was of priceless value to him, should be deemed a fitting object of this princeling's insults. It is needless to say that this unprincipled act alienated finally the small remnant of Saxons who hitherto had hoped to see Edgar occupy the throne, last filled by the valorous Harold.