{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_25502/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_25502","id":"gutenberg_25502","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25502","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's Myths, Fairy Tales, etc.","Folklore","Heroes","Romances, English"],"text":"Produced by Ted Garvin, Sam W. and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nThe Glossary and Index includes a pronunciation of the Anglo-Saxon\nnames in the text. These include some characters with diacritical\nmarks. These are shown as [=x] for a character with a macron (straight\nline) above it, and as [)x] for a character with a breve (u-shaped\nsymbol) above it. Also used is the accute accent ('). If this does\nnot display properly, you may need to adjust your font settings.\n\n\n\n\n HERO-MYTHS & LEGENDS\n OF THE BRITISH RACE\n\n BY\n M. I. EBBUTT M. A.\n\n\n WITH FIFTY-ONE FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY\n\n J. H. F. BACON A.R.A. BYAM SHAW\n W. H. MARGETSON R.I. GERTRUDE\n DEMAIN HAMMOND AND OTHERS\n\n\n [Illustration]\n\n\n GEORGE G. HARRAP & COMPANY LTD.\n LONDON CALCUTTA SYDNEY\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Robin Hood and the Black Monk\n\nWilliam Sewell\n\n[_Page 331_]]\n\n\n\n\n_First published August 1910_\n_by GEORGE G. HARRAP & CO._\n_39-41 Parker Street, Kingsway, London, W.C.2_\n\n_Reprinted: October 1910_\n _September 1911_\n _December 1914_\n _May 1916_\n _December 1917_\n _February 1920_\n _June 1924_\n\n\n_Printed in Great Britain at THE BALLANTYNE PRESS by_\nSPOTTISWOODE, BALLANTYNE & CO. LTD.\n_Colchester, London & Eton_\n\n\n\n\n TO\n\n MISS JULIA KENNEDY\n\n IN TOKEN OF THE ADMIRATION\n AND AFFECTION OF AN\n OLD PUPIL\n THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nIn refashioning, for the pleasure of readers of the twentieth century,\nthese versions of ancient tales which have given pleasure to\nstory-lovers of all centuries from the eighth onward, I feel that some\nexplanation of my choice is necessary. Men's conceptions of the heroic\nchange with changing years, and vary with each individual mind; hence\nit often happens that one person sees in a legend only the central\nheroism, while another sees only the inartistic details of mediaeval\nlife which tend to disguise and warp the heroic quality.\n\nIt may be that to some people the heroes I have chosen do not seem\nheroic, but there is no doubt that to the age and generation which\nwrote or sang of them they appeared real heroes, worthy of remembrance\nand celebration, and it has been my object to come as close as\npossible to the mediaeval mind, with its elementary conceptions of\nhonour, loyalty, devotion, and duty. I have therefore altered the\ntales as little as I could, and have tried to put them as fairly as\npossible before modern readers, bearing in mind the altered conditions\nof things and of intellects to-day.\n\nIn the work of selecting and retelling these stories I have to\nacknowledge with most hearty thanks the help and advice of Mr. F. E.\nBumby, B.A., of the University College, Nottingham, who has been\nthroughout a most kind and candid censor or critic. His help has been\nin every way invaluable. I have also to acknowledge the generous\npermission given me by Mr. W. B. Yeats to write in prose the story of\nhis beautiful play, \"The Countess Cathleen,\" and to adorn it with\nquotations from that play.\n\nThe poetical quotations are attributed to the authors from whose\nworks they are taken wherever it is possible. When mediaeval passages\noccur which are not thus attributed they are my own versions from the\noriginal mediaeval poems.\n\n M. I. EBBUTT\n\n TANGLEWOOD\n BARNT GREEN\n _July 1910_\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n CHAP. PAGE\n INTRODUCTION xvii\n\n I. BEOWULF 1\n\n II. THE DREAM OF MAXEN WLEDIG 42\n\n III. THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE AND ELENE 50\n\n IV. THE COMPASSION OF CONSTANTINE 63\n\n V. HAVELOK THE DANE 73\n\n VI. HOWARD THE HALT 95\n\n VII. ROLAND, THE HERO OF EARLY FRANCE 119\n\n VIII. THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN 156\n\n IX. CUCHULAIN, THE CHAMPION OF IRELAND 184\n\n X. THE TALE OF GAMELYN 204\n\n XI. WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLEE 225\n\n XII. BLACK COLIN OF LOCH AWE 248\n\n XIII. THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAYNE 265\n\n XIV. KING HORN 286\n\n XV. ROBIN HOOD 314\n\n XVI. HEREWARD THE WAKE 334\n\n GLOSSARY AND INDEX 353\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n PAGE\n Robin Hood and the Black Monk\n (_William Sewell_) _Frontispiece_\n\n _To face page_\n \"The demon of evil, with his fierce ravening, greedily\n grasped them\"\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 4\n\n Beowulf replies haughtily to Hunferth\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 12\n\n Beowulf finds the head of Aschere\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 22\n\n Beowulf shears off the head of Grendel\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 26\n\n The death of Beowulf\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 40\n\n The dream of the Emperor\n (_Byam Shaw_) 46\n\n The Queen's dilemma\n (_Byam Shaw_) 60\n\n They filled the great vessel of silver with pure water\n (_Byam Shaw_) 70\n\n \"Havelok sat up surprised\"\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 78\n\n \"Havelok again overthrew the porters\"\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 82\n\n \"With great joy they fell on their knees\"\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 88\n\n Olaf and Sigrid\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 98\n\n Howard leaves the house of Thorbiorn\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 106\n\n \"The silver rolled in all directions from his cloak\"\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 110\n\n \"Thorbiorn lifted the huge stone\"\n (_J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A._) 116\n\n Charlemagne\n (_Stella Langdale_) 120\n\n \"Here sits Charles the King\"\n (_Byam Shaw_) 124\n\n \"Ganelon rode away\"\n (_Byam Shaw_) 130\n\n \"Charlemagne heard it again\"\n (_Byam Shaw_) 144\n\n Aude the Fair\n (_Evelyn Paul_) 154\n\n \"Day by day Cathleen went among them\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 162\n\n The peasant's story\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 172\n\n \"Thieves have broken into the treasure-chamber\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 176\n\n \"Cathleen signed the bond\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 180\n\n \"All three drove furiously towards Cruachan\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 190\n\n \"Three monstrous cats were let into the room\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 192\n\n \"The dragon sank towards him, opening its terrible jaws\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 196\n\n \"The body of Uath arose\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 200\n\n \"Go and do your own baking!\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 206\n\n \"Lords, for Christ's sake help poor Gamelyn out of prison!\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 214\n\n \"Then cheer thee, Adam\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 218\n\n \"Come from the seat of justice!\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 222\n\n \"William continued his wonderful archery\"\n (_Patten Wilson_) 232\n\n Adam Bell writes the letter\n (_Patten Wilson_) 234\n\n The fight at the gate\n (_Patten Wilson_) 238\n\n William of Cloudeslee and his son\n (_Patten Wilson_) 244\n\n \"Wait for me seven years, dear wife\"\n (_Byam Shaw_) 252\n\n \"The King blew a loud note on his bugle\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 268\n\n \"Now you have released me from the spell completely\"\n (_W. H. Margetson, R.I._) 282\n\n Queen Godhild prays ever for her son Horn\n (_Patten Wilson_) 288\n\n Horn kills the Saracen Leader\n (_Patten Wilson_) 298\n\n Horn and his followers disguised as minstrels\n (_Patten Wilson_) 312\n\n \"Little John caught the horse by the bridle\"\n (_Patten Wilson_) 316\n\n \"I have no money worth offering\"\n (_Patten Wilson_) 320\n\n \"Sir Richard knelt in courteous salutation\"\n (_Patten Wilson_) 324\n\n \"Much shot the monk to the heart\"\n (_Patten Wilson_) 330\n\n \"Her pleading won relief for them\"\n (_Gertrude Demain Hammond, R.I._) 334\n\n Alftruda\n (_Gertrude Demain Hammond, R.I._) 340\n\n Hereward and the Princess\n (_Gertrude Demain Hammond, R.I._) 344\n\n Hereward and Sigtryg\n (_Gertrude Demain Hammond, R.I._) 348\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe writer who would tell again for people of the twentieth century\nthe legends and stories that delighted the folk of the thirteenth and\nfourteenth centuries finds himself confronted with a vast mass of\nmaterial ready to his hand. Unless he exercises a wise discrimination\nand has some system of selection, he becomes lost in the mazes of as\nenchanted a land,\n\n \"Where Truth and Dream walk hand in hand,\"[1]\n\nas ever bewildered knights of old in days of romance. Down all the\ndimly lighted pathways of mediaeval literature mystical figures beckon\nhim in every direction; fairies, goblins, witches, knights and ladies\nand giants entice him, and unless, like Theseus of old, he follows\nclosely his guiding clue, he will find that he reaches no goal,\nattains to no clear vision, achieves no quest. He will remain\nspell-bound, captivated by the Middle Ages--\n\n \"The life, the delight, and the sorrow\n Of troublous and chivalrous years\n That knew not of night nor of morrow,\n Of hopes or of fears.\n The wars and the woes and the glories\n That quicken, and lighten, and rain\n From the clouds of its chronicled stories\n The passion, the pride, and the pain.\"[2]\n\nSuch a golden clue to guide the modern seeker through the labyrinths\nof the mediaeval mind is that which I have tried to suggest in the\ntitle \"_Hero_-Myths and Legends of the British Race\"--the pursuit and\nrepresentation of the ideal hero as the mind of Britain and of early\nand mediaeval England imagined him, together with the study of the\ncharacteristics which made this or that particular person, mythical or\nlegendary, a hero to the century which sang or wrote about him. The\ninterest goes deeper when we study, not merely\n\n \"Old heroes who could grandly do\n As they could greatly dare,\"[3]\n\nbut\n\n \"Heroes of our island breed\n And men and women of our British birth.\"[4]\n\n\"Hero-worship endures for ever while man endures,\" wrote Thomas\nCarlyle, and this fidelity of men to their admiration for great heroes\nis one of the surest tokens by which we can judge of their own\ncharacter. Such as the hero is, such will his worshippers be; and the\nmen who idolised Robin Hood will be found to have been men who were\nthemselves in revolt against oppressive law, or who, finding law\npowerless to prevent tyranny, glorified the lawless punishment of\nwrongs and the bold denunciation of perverted justice. The warriors\nwho listened to the saga of Beowulf looked on physical prowess as the\nbest of all heroic qualities, and the Normans who admired Roland saw\nin him the ideal of feudal loyalty. To every age, and to every nation,\nthere is a peculiar ideal of heroism, and in the popular legends of\neach age this ideal may be found.\n\nAgain, these legends give not only the hero as he seemed to his age;\nthey also show the social life, the virtues and vices, the\nsuperstitions and beliefs, of earlier ages embedded in the tradition,\nas fossils are found in the uplifted strata of some ancient ocean-bed.\nThey have ceased to live; but they remain, tokens of a life long past.\nSo in the hero-legends of our nation we may find traces of the\nthoughts and religions of our ancestors many centuries ago; traces\nwhich lie close to one another in these romances, telling of the\nnations who came to these Islands of the West, settled, were conquered\nand driven away to make room for other races whose supremacy has been\nas brief, till all these superimposed races have blended into one, to\nform the British nation, the most widespread race of modern times. For\n\n \"Britain's might and Britain's right\n And the brunt of British spears\"[5]\n\nare not the boast of the English race alone. No man in England now can\nboast of unmixed descent, but must perforce trace his family back\nthrough many a marriage of Frank, and Norman, and Saxon, and Dane, and\nRoman, and Celt, and even Iberian, back to prehistoric man--\n\n \"Scot and Celt and Norman and Dane,\n With the Northman's sinew and heart and brain,\n And the Northman's courage for blessing or bane,\n Are England's heroes too.\"[6]\n\nWhen Tennyson sang his greeting at the coming of Alexandra,\n\n \"Saxon or Dane or Norman we,\n Teuton or Celt or whatever we be,\"\n\nhe was only recognising a truth which no boast of pure birth can\ncover--the truth that the modern Englishman is a compound of many\nraces, with many characteristics; and if we would understand him, we\nmust seek the clue to the riddle in early England and Scotland and\nIreland and Wales, while even France adds her share of enlightenment\ntowards the solution of the riddle.\n\n \"The Saxon force, the Celtic fire,\n These are thy manhood's heritage.\"[7]\n\nBritain, as far as we can trace men in our island, was first inhabited\nby cave-men, who have left no history at all. In the course of ages\nthey passed away before the Iberians or Ivernians, who came from the\neast, and bore a striking resemblance to the Basques. It may be that\nsome Mongolian tribe, wandering west, drawn by the instinct which has\ndriven most race-migrations westward, sent offshoots north and\nsouth--one to brave the dangers of the sea and inhabit Britain and\nIreland, one to cross the Pyrenees and remain sheltered in their deep\nravines; or it may be that Basques from the Pyrenees, daring the\nstorms of the Bay of Biscay in their frail coracles, ventured to the\nshores of Britain. Short and dark were these sturdy voyagers,\nharsh-featured and long-headed, worshipping the powers of Nature with\nmysterious and cruel rites of human sacrifice, holding beliefs in\ntotems and ancestor-worship and in the superiority of high descent\nclaimed through the mother to that claimed through the father. When\nthe stronger and more civilised Celt came he drove before him these\nlittle dark men, he enslaved their survivors or wedded their women,\nand in his turn fell into slavery to the cruel Druidic religion of his\nsubjects. To these Iberians, and to the Celtic dread of them, we\nprobably owe all the stories of dwarfs, goblins, elves, and\nearth-gnomes which fill our fairy-tale books; and if we examine\ncarefully the descriptions of the abodes of these beings we shall find\nthem not inconsistent with the earth-dwellings, caves, circle huts, or\neven with the burial mounds, of the Iberian race.\n\nThe race that followed the Iberians, and drove them out or subdued\nthem, so that they served as slaves where they had once ruled as\nlords, was the proud Aryan Celtic race. Of different tribes, Gaels,\nBrythons, and Belgae, they were all one in spirit, and one in physical\nfeature.\n\nTall, blue-eyed, with fair or red hair, they overpowered in every way\nthe diminutive Iberians, and their tattooing, while it gave them a\nname which has often been mistaken for a national designation (Picts,\nor painted men), made them dreadful to their enemies in battle, and\nferocious-looking even in time of peace. Their civilisation was of a\nmuch higher type than that of the Iberians; their weapons, their\nwar-chariots, their mode of life and their treatment of women, are all\nso closely similar to that of the Greeks of Homer that a theory has\nbeen advanced and ably defended, that the Homeric Greeks were really\ninvading Celts--Gaelic or Gaulish tribes from the north of Europe. If\nit indeed be so, we owe to the Celts a debt of imperishable culture\nand civilisation. To them belongs more especially, in our national\namalgam, the passion for the past, the ardent patriotism, the longing\nfor spiritual beauty, which raises and relieves the Saxon materialism.\n\n \"Though fallen the state of Erin and changed the Scottish land,\n Though small the power of Mona, though unwaked Llewellyn's band,\n Though Ambrose Merlin's prophecies are held as idle tales,\n Though Iona's ruined cloisters are swept by northern gales,\n One in name and in fame\n Are the sea-divided Gaels.\n\n \"In Northern Spain and Italy our brethren also dwell,\n And brave are the traditions of their fathers that they tell;\n The Eagle or the Crescent in the dawn of history pales\n Before the advancing banners of the great Rome-conquering Gaels:\n One in name and in fame\n Are the sea-divided Gaels.\"[8]\n\nIt is almost impossible to overestimate the value of the Celtic\ncontribution to our national literature and character: the race that\ngave us Ossian, and Finn, and Cuchulain, that sang of the sorrowful\nlove and doom of Deirdre, that told of the pursuit of Diarmit and\nGrania, till every dolmen and cromlech in Ireland was associated with\nthese lovers; the race that preserved for us\n\n \"That grey king whose name, a ghost,\n Streams like a cloud, man-shaped, from mountain-peak\n And cleaves to cairn and cromlech still,\"[9]\n\nthe King Arthur whose Arthur's Seat overhangs Edinburgh, whose\npresence haunts the Lakes, and Wales, and Cornwall, and the forests of\nBrittany; the race that held up for us the image of the Holy\nGrail--that race can claim no small share in the moulding of the\nmodern Briton.\n\nThe Celt, however, had his day of supremacy and passed: the Roman\ncrushed his power of initiative and made him helpless and dependent,\nand the Teuton, whether as Saxon, Angle, Frisian, or Jute, dwelt in\nhis homes and ruled as slaves the former owners of the land. These\nnew-comers were not physically unlike the Celts whom they\ndispossessed. Tall and fair, grey-eyed and sinewy, the Teuton was a\nhardier, more sturdy warrior than the Celt: he had not spent centuries\nof quiet settlement and imitative civilisation under the aegis of\nImperial Rome: he had not learnt to love the arts of peace and he\ncultivated none but those of war; he was by choice a warrior and a\nsailor, a wanderer to other lands, a plougher of the desolate places\nof the \"vasty deep,\" yet withal a lover of home, who trod at times,\nwith bitter longing for his native land, the thorny paths of exile. To\nhim physical cowardice was the unforgivable sin, next to treachery to\nhis lord; for the loyalty of thane to his chieftain was a very deep\nand abiding reality to the Anglo-Saxon warrior, and in the early poems\nof our English race, love for \"his dear lord, his chieftain-friend,\"\ntakes the place of that love of woman which other races felt and\nexpressed. A quiet death bed was the worst end to a man's life, in the\nAnglo-Saxon's creed; it was \"a cow's death,\" to be shunned by every\nmeans in a man's power; while a death in fight, victor or vanquished,\nwas a worthy finish to a warrior's life. There was no fear of death\nitself in the English hero's mind, nor of Fate; the former was the\ninevitable,\n\n \"Seeing that Death, a necessary end,\n Will come when it will come,\"[10]\n\nand the latter a goddess whose decrees must needs be obeyed with proud\nsubmission, but not with meek acceptance. Perhaps there was little of\nspiritual insight in the minds of these Angles and Saxons, little love\nof beauty, little care for the amenities of life; but they had a\nsturdy loyalty, an uprightness, a brave disregard of death in the\ncause of duty, which we can still recognise in modern Englishmen. To\nthe Saxon belong the tales where\n\n \"The warrior kings,\n In height and prowess more than human, strive\n Again for glory, while the golden lyre\n Is ever sounding in heroic ears\n Heroic hymns.\"[11]\n\nWhen the English (Anglo-Saxons, as we generally call them) had settled\ndown in England, had united their warring tribes, and developed a\nsomewhat centralised government, their whole national existence was\nimperilled by the incursions of the Danes. Kindred folk to the\nAnglo-Saxons were these Danes, these Vikings from Christiania Wik,\nthese Northmen from Norway or Iceland, whose fame went before them,\nand the dread of whom inspired the petition in the old Litany of the\nChurch, \"From the fury of the Northmen, good Lord, deliver us!\" Their\nfair hair and blue or grey eyes, their tall and muscular frames, bore\ntestimony to their kinship with the races they harried and plundered,\nbut their spirit was different from that of the conquered Teutonic\ntribes. The Viking _loved_ the sea; it was his summer home, his field\nof war and profit. To go \"a-summer-harrying\" was the usual employment\nof the true Viking, and in the winter only could he enjoy domestic\nlife and the pleasures of the family circle. The rapturous fight with\nthe elements, in which the Northman lived and moved and had his being,\ngave him a strain of ruthless cruelty unlike anything in the more\npeaceful Anglo-Saxon character: his disregard of death for himself led\nto a certain callousness with regard to human life, and to a certain\nenjoyment in inflicting physical anguish. There was an element of Red\nIndian ruthlessness in the Viking, which looms large in the story of\nthe years of Norse ascendancy over Western Europe. Yet there was also\na power of bold and daring action, of reckless valour, of rapid\nconception and execution, which contrasted strongly with the slower\nand more placid temperament of the Anglo-Saxon, and to this Danish\nstrain modern Englishmen probably owe the power of initiative, the\nlove of adventure, and the daring action which have made England the\ngreatest colonising nation on the earth. The Danish, Norse, or Viking\nelement spread far and wide in mediaeval Europe--Iceland, Normandy\n(Northman's Land), the Isle of Man, the Hebrides, the east of\nIreland, the Danelagh of East Anglia, and the Cumberland dales all\nshow traces of the conquering Danish race; and raider after raider\ncame to England and stayed, until half of our island was Danish, and\neven our royal family became for a time one with the royal line of\nDenmark. The acceptance of Christianity by the Danes in England when\nGuthrum was baptized rendered much more easy their amalgamation with\nthe English; but it was not so in Ireland, where the Round Towers\nstill stand to show (as some authorities hold) how the terrified\nnative Irish sheltered from the Danish fury which nearly destroyed the\nwhole fabric of Irish Christianity. The legends of Ireland, too, are\nfull of the terror of the men of \"Lochlann,\" which is generally taken\nto mean Norway; and the great coast cities of Ireland--Dublin, Cork,\nWaterford, Wexford, and others--were so entirely Danish that only the\ndecisive battle of Clontarf, in which the saintly and victorious Brian\nBoru was slain, saved Ireland to Christendom and curbed the power of\nthe heathen invaders.\n\nA second wave of Norse invasion swept over England at the Norman\nConquest, and for a time submerged the native English population. The\nchivalrous Norman knights who followed William of Normandy's sacred\nbanner, whether from religious zeal or desire of plunder, were as\ntruly Vikings by race as were the Danes who settled in the Danelagh.\nThe days when Rolf (Rollo, or Rou), the Viking chief, won Normandy\nwere not yet so long gone by that the fierce piratical instincts of\nhis followers had ceased to influence their descendants: piety and\nlearning, feudal law and custom, had made some impression upon the\ncharacter of the Norman, but at heart he was still a Northman. The\nNorman barons fought for their independence against Duke William with\nall the determination of those Norse chiefs who would not acknowledge\nthe overlordship of Harold Fairhair, but fled to colonise Iceland when\nhe made himself King of Norway. The seafaring instincts which drove\nthe Vikings to harry other lands in like manner drove the Normans to\npiratical plundering up and down the English Channel, and, when they\nhad settled in England, led to continual sea-fights in the Channel\nbetween English and French, hardy Kentish and Norman, or Cornish and\nBreton, sailors, with a common strain of fighting blood, and a common\nlove of the sea.\n\nThe Norman Conquest of England was but one instance of Norman\nactivity: Sicily, Italy, Constantinople, even Antioch, and the Holy\nLand itself, showed in time Norman states, Norman laws, Norman\ncivilisation, and all alike felt the impulse of Norman energy and\ninspiration. England lay ready to hand for Norman invasion--the hope\nof peaceable succession to the saintly Edward the Confessor had to be\nabandoned by William; the gradual permeation of sluggish England with\nNorman earls, churchmen, courtiers, had been comprehended and checked\nby Earl Godwin and his sons (themselves of Danish race); but there\nstill remained the way of open war and an appeal to religious zeal;\nand this way William took. There was genius as well as statesmanship\nin the idea of combining a personal claim to the throne held by Harold\nthe usurper with a crusading summons against the schismatic and\nheretical English, who refused obedience to the true successor of St.\nPeter. The success of the idea was its justification: the success of\nthe expedition proved the need that England had of some new leaven to\nenergise the sluggish temperament of her sons. The Norman Conquest not\nonly revived and quickened, but unified and solidified the English\nnation. The tyranny of the Norman nobles, held in check at first only\nby the tyranny of the Norman king, was the factor in mediaeval English\nlife that made for a national consciousness; it also helped the\nappreciation of the heroism of revolt against tyranny which is seen in\nHereward the Wake, in Robin Hood, in William of Cloudeslee, and in\nmany other English hero-rebels; but it gradually led men to a\nrealization of their own rights as Englishmen. When all men alike felt\nthemselves sons of England, the days were past when Norman and Saxon\nwere aliens to each other, and Norman robber soon became as truly\nEnglish as Danish viking, Anglo-Saxon seafarer, or Celtic settler.\nThen the full value of the Norman infusion was seen in quicker\nintellectual apprehension, nimbler wit, a keener sense of reverence, a\nmore spiritual piety, a more refined courtesy, and a more enlightened\nperception of the value of law. The materialism of the original Saxon\nrace was successively modified by many influences, and not least of\nthese was the Norman Conquest.\n\nFrom the Norman Conquest onward England has welcomed men of many\nnations--French, Flemings, Germans, Dutch: men brought by war, by\ntrade, by love of adventure, by religion; traders, refugees, exiles,\nall have found in her a hospitable shelter and a second home, and all\nhave come to love the \"grey old mother\" that counted them among her\nsons and grew to think them her own in very truth.\n\nGeographically, also, we must recognise the admixture of races in our\nislands. The farthest western borders show most strongly the type of\nman whom we can imagine the Iberian to have been: Western Ireland, the\nHebrides, Central and South Wales, and Cornwall are still inhabited by\nfolk of Iberian descent. The blue-eyed Celt yet dwells in the\nHighlands and the greater part of Wales and the Marches--Hereford and\nShropshire, and as far as Worcestershire and Cheshire; still the\nDales of Cumberland, the Fen Country, East Anglia, and the Isle of Man\nshow traces of Danish blood, speech, manners, and customs; still the\nslow, stolid Saxon inhabits the lands south of the Thames from Sussex\nto Hampshire and Dorset. The Angle has settled permanently over the\nLowlands of Scotland, with the Celt along the western fringe, and\nFlemish blood shows its traces in Pembroke on the one side (\"Little\nEngland beyond Wales\") and in Norfolk on the other.\n\nWith all these nations, all these natures, amalgamated in our own, it\nis no wonder that the literature of our isles contains many different\nideals of heroism, changing according to nationality and epoch. Thus\nthe physical valour of Beowulf is not the same quality as the valour\nof Havelok the Dane, though both are heroes of the strong arm; and the\nchivalry of Diarmit is not the same as the chivalry of Roland. Again,\nreligion has its share in changing the ideals of a nation, and\nConstantine, the warrior of the Early English poem of \"Elene,\" is far\nfrom being the same in character as the tender-hearted Constantine of\n\"moral Gower's\" apocryphal tale. The law-abiding nature of the\nearliest heroes, whose obedience to their king and their priest was\nabsolute, differs almost entirely from the lawlessness of Gamelyn and\nRobin Hood, both of whom set church and king at defiance, and even\naccount it a merit to revolt from the rule of both. It follows from\nthis that we shall find our chosen heroes of very different types and\ncharacters; but we shall recognise that each represented to his own\nage an ideal of heroism, which that age loved sufficiently to put into\nliterature, and perpetuate by the best means in its power. Of many\nanother hero besides Arthur--of Barbarossa, of Hiawatha, even of\nNapoleon--has the tradition grown that he is not dead, but has passed\naway into the deathless land, whence he shall come again in his own\ntime. As Tennyson has sung,\n\n \"Great bards of him will sing\n Hereafter; and dark sayings from of old\n Ranging and ringing through the minds of men,\n And echoed by old folk beside their fires\n For comfort after their wage-work is done,\n Speak of the King.\"\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Lightfoot.\n\n[2] Swinburne.\n\n[3] Gerald Massey.\n\n[4] J. R. Denning.\n\n[5] W. W. Campbell.\n\n[6] _Ibid._\n\n[7] C. Roberts.\n\n[8] T. Darcy McGee.\n\n[9] Tennyson.\n\n[10] Shakespeare, _Julius Caesar_.\n\n[11] Tennyson.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I: BEOWULF\n\n\nIntroduction\n\nThe figure which meets us as we enter on the study of Heroes of the\nBritish Race is one which appeals to us in a very special way, since\nhe is the one hero in whose legend we may see the ideals of our\nEnglish forefathers before they left their Continental home to settle\nin this island. Opinions may differ as to the date at which the poem\nof \"Beowulf\" was written, the place in which it was localised, and the\nreligion of the poet who combined the floating legends into one epic\nwhole, but all must accept the poem as embodying the life and feelings\nof our Forefathers who dwelt in North Germany on the shores of the\nNorth Sea and of the Baltic. The life depicted, the characters\nportrayed, the events described, are such as a simple warrior race\nwould cherish in tradition and legend as relics of the life lived by\ntheir ancestors in what doubtless seemed to them the Golden Age.\nPerhaps stories of a divine Beowa, hero and ancestor of the English,\nbecame merged in other myths of sun-hero and marsh-demon, but in any\ncase the stories are now crystallized around one central human figure,\nwho may even be considered an historical hero, Beowulf, the thane of\nHygelac, King of the Geats. It is this grand primitive hero who\nembodies the ideal of English heroism. Bold to rashness for himself,\nprudent for his comrades, daring, resourceful, knowing no fear, loyal\nto his king and his kinsmen, generous in war and in peace,\nself-sacrificing, Beowulf stands for all that is best in manhood in an\nage of strife. It is fitting that our first British hero should be\nphysically and mentally strong, brave to seek danger and brave to look\non death and Fate undaunted, one whose life is a struggle against\nevil forces, and whose death comes in a glorious victory over the\npowers of evil, a victory gained for the sake of others to whom\nBeowulf feels that he owes protection and devotion.\n\n\nThe Story. The Coming and Passing of Scyld\n\nOnce, long ago, the Danish land owned the sway of a mighty monarch,\nScyld Scefing, the founder of a great dynasty, the Scyldings. This\ngreat king Scyld had come to Denmark in a mysterious manner, since no\nman knew whence he sprang. As a babe he drifted to the Danish shore in\na vessel loaded with treasures; but no man was with him, and there was\nno token to show his kindred and race. When Scyld grew up he increased\nthe power of Denmark and enlarged her borders; his fame spread far and\nwide among men, and his glory shone undimmed until the day when, full\nof years and honours, he died, leaving the throne securely established\nin his family. Then the sorrowing Danes restored him to the mysterious\nocean from which he had come to them. Choosing their goodliest ship,\nthey laid within it the corpse of their departed king, and heaped\naround him all their best and choicest treasures, until the venerable\ncountenance of Scyld looked to heaven from a bed of gold and jewels;\nthen they set up, high above his head, his glorious gold-wrought\nbanner, and left him alone in state. The vessel was loosed from the\nshore where the mourning Danes bewailed their departing king, and\ndrifted slowly away to the unknown west from which Scyld had sailed to\nhis now sorrowing people; they watched until it was lost in the\nshadows of night and distance, but no man under heaven knoweth what\nshore now holds the vanished Scyld. The descendants of Scyld ruled and\nprospered till the days of his great-grandson Hrothgar, one of a\nfamily of four, who can all be identified historically with various\nDanish kings and princes.\n\n\nHrothgar's Hall\n\nHrothgar was a mighty warrior and conqueror, who won glory in battle,\nand whose fame spread wide among men, so that nobly born warriors, his\nkinsmen, were glad to serve as his bodyguard and to fight for him\nloyally in strife. So great was Hrothgar's power that he longed for\nsome outward sign of the magnificence of his sway; he determined to\nbuild a great hall, in which he could hold feasts and banquets, and\ncould entertain his warriors and thanes, and visitors from afar. The\nhall rose speedily, vast, gloriously adorned, a great meeting-place\nfor men; for Hrothgar had summoned all his people to the work, and the\nwalls towered up high and majestic, ending in pinnacles and gables\nresembling the antlers of a stag. At the great feast which Hrothgar\ngave first in his new home the minstrels chanted the glory of the\nhall, \"Heorot,\" \"The Hart,\" as the king named it; Hrothgar's desire\nwas well fulfilled, that he should build the most magnificent of\nbanquet-halls. Proud were the mighty warriors who feasted within it,\nand proud the heart of the king, who from his high seat on the dais\nsaw his brave thanes carousing at the long tables below him, and the\nlofty rafters of the hall rising black into the darkness.\n\n\nGrendel\n\nDay by day the feasting continued, until its noise and the festal joy\nof its revellers aroused a mighty enemy, Grendel, the loathsome\nfen-monster. This monstrous being, half-man, half-fiend, dwelt in the\nfens near the hill on which Heorot stood. Terrible was he, dangerous\nto men, of extraordinary strength, human in shape but gigantic of\nstature, covered with a green horny skin, on which the sword would not\nbite. His race, all sea-monsters, giants, goblins, and evil demons,\nwere offspring of Cain, outcasts from the mercy of the Most High,\nhostile to the human race; and Grendel was one of mankind's most\nbitter enemies; hence his hatred of the joyous shouts from Heorot, and\nhis determination to stop the feasting.\n\n \"This the dire mighty fiend, he who in darkness dwelt,\n Suffered with hatred fierce, that every day and night\n He heard the festal shouts loud in the lofty hall;\n Sound of harp echoed there, and gleeman's sweet song.\n Thus they lived joyously, fearing no angry foe\n Until the hellish fiend wrought them great woe.\n Grendel that ghost was called, grisly and terrible,\n Who, hateful wanderer, dwelt in the moorlands,\n The fens and wild fastnesses; the wretch for a while abode\n In homes of the giant-race, since God had cast him out.\n When night on the earth fell, Grendel departed\n To visit the lofty hall, now that the warlike Danes\n After the gladsome feast nightly slept in it.\n A fair troop of warrior-thanes guarding it found he;\n Heedlessly sleeping, they recked not of sorrow.\n The demon of evil, the grim wight unholy,\n With his fierce ravening, greedily grasped them,\n Seized in their slumbering thirty right manly thanes;\n Thence he withdrew again, proud of his lifeless prey,\n Home to his hiding-place, bearing his booty,\n In peace to devour it.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"The demon of evil, with his fierce ravening, greedily\ngrasped them\"]\n\nWhen dawn broke, and the Danes from their dwellings around the hall\nentered Heorot, great was the lamentation, and dire the dismay, for\nthirty noble champions had vanished, and the blood-stained tracks of\nthe monster showed but too well the fate that had overtaken them.\nHrothgar's grief was profound, for he had lost thirty of his dearly\nloved bodyguard, and he himself was too old to wage a conflict against\nthe foe--a foe who repeated night by night his awful deeds, in\nspite of all that valour could do to save the Danes from his terrible\nenmity. At last no champion would face the monster, and the Danes, in\ndespair, deserted the glorious hall of which they had been so proud.\nUseless stood the best of dwellings, for none dared remain in it, but\nevery evening the Danes left it after their feast, and slept\nelsewhere. This affliction endured for twelve years, and all that time\nthe beautiful hall of Heorot stood empty when darkness was upon it. By\nnight the dire fiend visited it in search of prey, and in the morning\nhis footsteps showed that his deadly enmity was not yet appeased, but\nthat any effort to use the hall at night would bring down his fatal\nwrath on the careless sleepers.\n\nFar and wide spread the tidings of this terrible oppression, and many\nchampions came from afar to offer King Hrothgar their aid, but none\nwas heroic enough to conquer the monster, and many a mighty warrior\nlost his life in a vain struggle against Grendel. At length even these\nbold adventurers ceased to come; Grendel remained master of Heorot,\nand the Danes settled down in misery under the bondage of a perpetual\nnightly terror, while Hrothgar grew old in helpless longing for\nstrength to rescue his people from their foe.\n\n\nBeowulf\n\nMeanwhile there had come to manhood and full strength a hero destined\nto make his name famous for mighty deeds of valour throughout the\nwhole of the Teutonic North. In the realm of the Geats (Goetaland, in\nthe south of Sweden) ruled King Hygelac, a mighty ruler who was\nambitious enough to aim at conquering his neighbours on the mainland\nof Germany. His only sister, daughter of the dead king Hrethel, had\nmarried a great noble, Ecgtheow, and they had one son, Beowulf, who\nfrom the age of seven was brought up at the Geatish court. The boy was\na lad of great stature and handsome appearance, with fair locks and\ngallant bearing; but he greatly disappointed his grandfather, King\nHrethel, by his sluggish character. Beowulf as a youth had been\ndespised by all for his sloth and his unwarlike disposition; his\ngood-nature and his rarely stirred wrath made others look upon him\nwith scorn, and the mighty stature to which he grew brought him\nnothing but scoffs and sneers and insults in the banquet-hall when the\nroyal feasts were held. Yet wise men might have seen the promise of\ngreat strength in his powerful sinews and his mighty hands, and the\nsigns of great force of character in the glance of his clear blue eyes\nand the fierceness of his anger when he was once aroused. At least\nonce already Beowulf had distinguished himself in a great feat--a\nswimming-match with a famous champion, Breca, who had been beaten in\nthe contest. For this and other victories, and for the bodily strength\nwhich gave Beowulf's hand-grip the force of thirty men, the hero was\nalready famed when the news of Grendel's ravages reached Geatland.\nBeowulf, eager to try his strength against the monster, and burning to\nadd to his fame, asked and obtained permission from his uncle, King\nHygelac, to seek the stricken Danish king and offer his help against\nGrendel; then, choosing fourteen loyal comrades and kinsfolk, he took\na cheerful farewell of the Geatish royal family and sailed for\nDenmark.\n\nThus it happened that one day the Warden of the Coast, riding on his\nround along the Danish shores, saw from the white cliffs a strange\nwar-vessel running in to shore. Her banners were unknown to him, her\ncrew were strangers and all in war-array, and as the Warden watched\nthem they ran the ship into a small creek among the mountainous\ncliffs, made her fast to a rock with stout cables, and then landed and\nput themselves in readiness for a march. Though there were fifteen of\nthe strangers and the Warden was alone, he showed no hesitation, but,\nriding boldly down into their midst, loudly demanded:\n\n \"What are ye warlike men wielding bright weapons,\n Wearing grey corslets and boar-adorned helmets,\n Who o'er the water-paths come with your foaming keel\n Ploughing the ocean surge? I was appointed\n Warden of Denmark's shores; watch hold I by the wave\n That on this Danish coast no deadly enemy\n Leading troops over sea should land to injure.\n None have here landed yet more frankly coming\n Than this fair company: and yet ye answer not\n The password of warriors, and customs of kinsmen.\n Ne'er have mine eyes beheld a mightier warrior,\n An earl more lordly, than is he, the chief of you;\n He is no common man; if looks belie him not,\n He is a hero bold, worthily weaponed.\n Anon must I know of you kindred and country,\n Lest ye as spies should go free on our Danish soil.\n Now ye men from afar, sailing the surging sea,\n Have heard my earnest thought: best is a quick reply,\n That I may swiftly know whence ye have hither come.\"\n\nSo the aged Warden sat on his horse, gazing attentively on the faces\nof the fifteen strangers, but watching most carefully the countenance\nof the leader; for the mighty stature, the clear glance of command,\nthe goodly armour, and the lordly air of Beowulf left no doubt as to\nwho was the chieftain of that little band. When the questions had been\nasked the leader of the new-comers moved forward till his mighty\nfigure stood beside the Warden's horse, and as he gazed up into the\nold man's eyes he answered: \"We are warriors of the Geats, members of\nKing Hygelac's bodyguard. My father, well known among men of wisdom,\nwas named Ecgtheow, a wise counsellor who died full of years and\nfamous for his wisdom, leaving a memory dear to all good men.\"\n\n \"We come to seek thy king Healfdene's glorious son,\n Thy nation's noble lord, with friendly mind.\n Be thou a guardian good to us strangers here!\n We have an errand grave to the great Danish king,\n Nor will I hidden hold what I intend!\n Thou canst tell if it is truth (as we lately heard)\n That some dire enemy, deadly in evil deed,\n Cometh in dark of night, sateth his secret hate,\n Worketh through fearsome awe, slaughter and shame.\n I can give Hrothgar bold counsel to conquer him,\n How he with valiant mind Grendel may vanquish,\n If he would ever lose torment of burning care,\n If bliss shall bloom again and woe shall vanish.\"\n\nThe aged Warden replied: \"Every bold warrior of noble mind must\nrecognise the distinction between words and deeds. I judge by thy\nspeech that you are all friends to our Danish king; therefore I bid\nyou go forward, in warlike array, and I myself will guide you to King\nHrothgar; I will also bid my men draw your vessel up the beach, and\nmake her fast with a barricade of oars against any high tide. Safe she\nshall be until again she bears you to your own land. May your\nexpedition prove successful.\"\n\nThus speaking, he turned his horse's head and led the way up the steep\ncliff paths, while the Geats followed him, resplendent in shining\narmour, with boar-crests on their helmets, shields and spears in their\nhands, and mighty swords hanging in their belts: a goodly band were\nthey, as they strode boldly after the Warden. Anon there appeared a\nroughly trodden path, which soon became a stone-paved road, and the\nway led on to where the great hall, Heorot, towered aloft, gleaming\nwhite in the sun; very glorious it seemed, with its pinnacled gables\nand its carved beams and rafters, and the Geats gazed at it with\nadmiration as the Warden of the Coast said: \"Yonder stands our\nmonarch's hall, and your way lies clear before you. May the All-Father\nkeep you safe in the conflict! Now it is time for me to return; I go\nto guard our shores from every foe.\"\n\n\nHrothgar and Beowulf\n\nThe little band of Geats, in their shining war-gear, strode along the\nstone-paved street, their ring-mail sounding as they went, until they\nreached the door of Heorot; and there, setting down their broad\nshields and their keen spears against the wall, they prepared to enter\nas peaceful guests the great hall of King Hrothgar. Wulfgar, one of\nHrothgar's nobles, met them at the door and asked whence such a\nsplendid band of warlike strangers, so well armed and so worthily\nequipped, had come. Their heroic bearing betokened some noble\nenterprise. Beowulf answered: \"We are Hygelac's chosen friends and\ncompanions, and I am Beowulf. To King Hrothgar, thy master, will I\ntell mine errand, if the son of Healfdene will allow us to approach\nhim.\"\n\nWulfgar, impressed by the words and bearing of the hero, replied: \"I\nwill announce thy coming to my lord, and bring back his answer\"; and\nthen made his way up the hall to the high seat where Hrothgar sat on\nthe dais amidst his bodyguard of picked champions. Bowing\nrespectfully, he said:\n\n \"Here are come travelling over the sea-expanse,\n Journeying from afar, heroes of Geatland.\n Beowulf is the name of their chief warrior.\n This is their prayer, my lord, that they may speak with thee;\n Do not thou give them a hasty refusal!\n Do not deny them the gladness of converse!\n They in their war-gear seem worthy of men's respect.\n Noble their chieftain seems, he who the warriors\n Hither has guided.\"\n\nAt these words the aged king aroused himself from the sad reverie into\nwhich he had fallen and answered: \"I knew him as a boy. Beowulf is the\nson of Ecgtheow, who wedded the daughter of the Geat King Hrethel. His\nfame has come hither before him; seafarers have told me that he has\nthe might of thirty men in his hand-grip. Great joy it is to know of\nhis coming, for he may save us from the terror of Grendel. If he\nsucceeds in this, great treasures will I bestow upon him. Hasten;\nbring in hither Beowulf and his kindred thanes, and bid them welcome\nto the Danish folk!\"\n\nWulfgar hurried down the hall to the place where Beowulf stood with\nhis little band; he led them gladly to the high seat, so that they\nstood opposite to Hrothgar, who looked keenly at the well-equipped\ntroop, and kindly at its leader. A striking figure was Beowulf as he\nstood there in his gleaming ring-mail, with the mighty sword by his\nside. It was, however, but a minute that Hrothgar looked in silence,\nfor with respectful greeting Beowulf spoke:\n\n \"Hail to thee, Hrothgar King! Beowulf am I,\n Hygelac's kinsman and loyal companion.\n Great deeds of valour wrought I in my youth.\n To me in my native land Grendel's ill-doing\n Came as an oft-heard tale told by our sailors.\n They say that this bright hall, noblest of buildings,\n Standeth to every man idle and useless\n After the evening-light fails in the heavens.\n Thus, Hrothgar, ancient king, all my friends urged me,\n Warriors and prudent thanes, that I should seek thee,\n Since they themselves had known my might in battle.\n Now I will beg of thee, lord of the glorious Danes,\n Prince of the Scylding race, Folk-lord most friendly,\n Warden of warriors, only one boon.\n Do not deny it me, since I have come from far;\n I with my men alone, this troop of heroes good,\n Would without help from thee cleanse thy great hall!\n Oft have I also heard that the fierce monster\n Through his mad recklessness scorns to use weapons;\n Therefore will I forego (so may King Hygelac,\n My friendly lord and king, find in me pleasure)\n That I should bear my sword and my broad yellow shield\n Into the conflict: with my hand-grip alone\n I 'gainst the foe will strive, and struggle for my life--\n He shall endure God's doom whom death shall bear away.\n I know that he thinketh in this hall of conflict\n Fearless to eat me, if he can compass it,\n As he has oft devoured heroes of Denmark.\n Then thou wilt not need my head to hide away,\n Grendel will have me all mangled and gory;\n Away will he carry, if death then shall take me,\n My body with gore stained will he think to feast on,\n On his lone track will bear it and joyously eat it,\n And mark with my life-blood his lair in the moorland;\n Nor more for my welfare wilt thou need to care then.\n Send thou to Hygelac, if strife shall take me,\n That best of byrnies which my breast guardeth,\n Brightest of war-weeds, the work of Smith Weland,\n Left me by Hrethel. Ever Wyrd has her way.\"\n\nThe aged King Hrothgar, who had listened attentively while the hero\nspoke of his plans and of his possible fate, now greeted him saying:\n\"Thou hast sought my court for honour and for friendship's sake, O\nBeowulf: thou hast remembered the ancient alliance between Ecgtheow,\nthy father, and myself, when I shielded him, a fugitive, from the\nwrath of the Wilfings, paid them the due wergild for his crime, and\ntook his oath of loyalty to myself. Long ago that time is; Ecgtheow is\ndead, and I am old and in misery. It were too long now to tell of all\nthe woe that Grendel has wrought, but this I may say, that many a\nhero has boasted of the great valour he would display in strife with\nthe monster, and has awaited his coming in this hall; in the morning\nthere has been no trace of each hero but the dark blood-stains on\nbenches and tables. How many times has that happened! But sit down now\nto the banquet and tell thy plans, if such be thy will.\"\n\nThereupon room was made for the Geat warriors on the long benches, and\nBeowulf sat in the place of honour opposite to the king: great respect\nwas shown to him, and all men looked with wonder on this mighty hero,\nwhose courage led him to hazard this terrible combat. Great carved\nhorns of ale were borne to Beowulf and his men, savoury meat was\nplaced before them, and while they ate and drank the minstrels played\nand sang to the harp the deeds of men of old. The mirth of the feast\nwas redoubled now men hoped that a deliverer had come indeed.\n\n\nThe Quarrel\n\nAmong all the Danes who were rejoicing over Beowulf's coming there was\none whose heart was sad and his brow gloomy--one thane whom jealousy\nurged to hate any man more distinguished than himself. Hunferth, King\nHrothgar's orator and speech-maker, from his official post at\nHrothgar's feet watched Beowulf with scornful and jealous eyes. He\nwaited until a pause came in the clamour of the feast, and suddenly\nspoke, coldly and contemptuously: \"Art thou that Beowulf who strove\nagainst Breca, the son of Beanstan, when ye two held a swimming\ncontest in the ocean and risked your lives in the deep waters? In vain\nall your friends urged you to forbear--ye would go on the hazardous\njourney; ye plunged in, buffeting the wintry waves through the\nrising storm. Seven days and nights ye toiled, but Breca overcame\nthee: he had greater strength and courage. Him the ocean bore to\nshore, and thence he sought his native land, and the fair city where\nhe ruled as lord and chieftain. Fully he performed his boast against\nthee. So I now look for a worse issue for thee, for thou wilt find\nGrendel fiercer in battle than was Breca, if thou darest await him\nthis night.\"\n\nBeowulf's brow flushed with anger as he replied haughtily: \"Much hast\nthou spoken, friend Hunferth, concerning Breca and our swimming\ncontest; but belike thou art drunken, for wrongly hast thou told the\ntale. A youthful folly of ours it was, when we two boasted and\nchallenged each other to risk our lives in the ocean; that indeed we\ndid. Naked swords we bore in our hands as we swam, to defend ourselves\nagainst the sea-monsters, and we floated together, neither\noutdistancing the other, for five days, when a storm drove us apart.\nCold were the surging waves, bitter the north wind, rough was the\nswelling flood, under the darkening shades of night. Yet this was not\nthe worst: the sea-monsters, excited by the raging tempest, rushed at\nme with their deadly tusks and bore me to the abyss. Well was it then\nfor me that I wore my well-woven ring-mail, and had my keen sword in\nhand; with point and edge I fought the deadly beasts, and killed them.\nMany a time the hosts of monsters bore me to the ocean-bottom, but I\nslew numbers among them, and thus we battled all the night, until in\nthe morning came light from the east, and I could see the windy cliffs\nalong the shore, and the bodies of the slain sea-beasts floating on\nthe surge. Nine there were of them, for Wyrd is gracious to the man\nwho is valiant and unafraid. Never have I heard of a sterner\nconflict, nor a more unhappy warrior lost in the waters; yet I saved\nmy life, and landed on the shores of Finland. Breca wrought not so\nmightily as I, nor have I heard of such warlike deeds on thy part,\neven though thou, O Hunferth, didst murder thy brothers and nearest\nkinsmen.\n\n \"Truly I say to thee, O son of Ecglaf bold,\n Grendel the grisly fiend ne'er dared have wrought\n So many miseries, such shame and anguish dire,\n To thy lord, Hrothgar old, in his bright Heorot,\n Hadst thou shown valiant mood, sturdy and battle-fierce,\n As thou now boastest.\"\n\n[Illustration: Beowulf replies haughtily to Hunferth]\n\nVery wroth was Hunferth over the reminder of his former wrongdoing and\nthe implied accusation of cowardice, but he had brought it on himself\nby his unwise belittling of Beowulf's feat, and the applause of both\nDanes and Geats showed him that he dared no further attack the\nchampion; he had to endure in silence Beowulf's boast that he and his\nGeats would that night await Grendel in the hall, and surprise him\nterribly, since the fiend had ceased to expect any resistance from the\nwarlike Danes. The feast continued, with laughter and melody, with\nsong and boast, until the door from the women's bower, in the upper\nend of the hall, opened suddenly, and Hrothgar's wife, the fair and\ngracious Queen Wealhtheow, entered. The tumult lulled for a short\nspace, and the queen, pouring mead into a goblet, presented it to her\nhusband; joyfully he received and drank it. Then she poured mead or\nale for each man, and in due course came to Beowulf, as to the guest\nof honour. Gratefully Wealhtheow greeted the lordly hero, and thanked\nhim for the friendship which brought him to Denmark to risk his life\nagainst Grendel. Beowulf, rising respectfully and taking the cup from\nthe queen's hand, said with dignity:\n\n \"This I considered well when I the ocean sought,\n Sailed in the sea-vessel with my brave warriors,\n That I alone would win thy folk's deliverance,\n Or in the fight would fall fast in the demon's grip.\n Needs must I now perform knightly deeds in this hall,\n Or here must meet my doom in darksome night.\"\n\nWell pleased, Queen Wealhtheow went to sit beside her lord, where her\ngracious smile cheered the assembly. Then the clamour of the feast was\nrenewed, until Hrothgar at length gave the signal for retiring.\nIndeed, it was necessary to leave Heorot when darkness fell, for the\nfiend came each night when sunlight faded. So the whole assembly\narose, each man bade his comrades \"Good night,\" and the Danes\ndispersed; but Hrothgar addressed Beowulf half joyfully, half sadly,\nsaying:\n\n \"Never before have I since I held spear and shield\n Given o'er to any man this mighty Danish hall,\n Save now to thee alone. Keep thou and well defend\n This best of banquet-halls. Show forth thy hero-strength,\n Call up thy bravery, watch for the enemy!\n Thou shalt not lack gifts of worth if thou alive remain\n Winner in this dire strife.\"\n\nThus Hrothgar departed, to seek slumber in a less dangerous abode,\nwhere, greatly troubled in mind, he awaited the dawn with almost\nhopeless expectation, and Beowulf and his men prepared themselves for\nthe perils of the night.\n\n\nBeowulf and Grendel\n\nThe fourteen champions of the Geats now made ready for sleep; but\nwhile the others lay down in their armour, with weapons by their\nsides, Beowulf took off his mail, unbelted his sword, unhelmed\nhimself, and gave his sword to a thane to bear away. For, as he said\nto his men, \"I will strive against this fiend weaponless. With no\narmour, since he wears none, will I wrestle with him, and try to\novercome him. I will conquer, if I win, by my hand-grip alone; and the\nAll-Father shall judge between us, and grant the victory to whom He\nwill.\"\n\nThe Geats then lay down--brave men who slept calmly, though they knew\nthey were risking their lives, for none of them expected to see the\nlight of day again, or to revisit their native land: they had heard,\ntoo, much during the feast of the slaughter which Grendel had wrought.\nSo night came, the voices of men grew silent, and the darkness\nshrouded all alike--calm sleepers, anxious watchers, and the deadly,\ncreeping foe.\n\nWhen everything was still Grendel came. From the fen-fastnesses, by\nmarshy tracts, through mists and swamp-born fogs, the hideous monster\nmade his way to the house he hated so bitterly. Grendel strode fiercely\nto the door of Heorot, and would fain have opened it as usual, but it\nwas locked and bolted. Then the fiend's wrath was roused; he grasped\nthe door with his mighty hands and burst it in. As he entered he seemed\nto fill the hall with his monstrous shadow, and from his eyes shone a\ngreen and uncanny light, which showed him a troop of warriors lying\nasleep in their war-gear; it seemed that all slept, and the fiend did\nnot notice that one man half rose, leaning on his elbow and peering\nkeenly into the gloom. Grendel hastily put forth his terrible scaly\nhand and seized one hapless sleeper. Tearing him limb from limb, so\nswiftly that his cry of agony was unheard, he drank the warm blood and\ndevoured the flesh; then, excited by the hideous food, he reached forth\nagain. Great was Grendel's amazement to find that his hand was seized\nin a grasp such as he had never felt before, and to know that he had\nat last found an antagonist whom even he must fight warily. Beowulf\nsprang from his couch as the terrible claws of the monster fell upon\nhim, and wrestled with Grendel in the darkness and gloom of the\nunlighted hall, where the flicker of the fire had died down to a dim\nglow in the dull embers. That was a dreadful struggle, as the\ncombatants, in deadly conflict, swayed up and down the hall,\noverturning tables and benches, trampling underfoot dishes and goblets\nin the darkling wrestle for life. The men of the Geats felt for their\nweapons, but they could not see the combatants distinctly, though they\nheard the panting and the trampling movements, and occasionally caught\na gleam from the fiend's eyes as his face was turned towards them. When\nthey struck their weapons glanced harmlessly off Grendel's scaly hide.\nThe struggle continued for some time, and the hall was an utter wreck\nwithin, when Grendel, worsted for once, tried to break away and rush\nout into the night; but Beowulf held him fast in the grip which no man\non earth could equal or endure, and the monster writhed in anguish as\nhe vainly strove to free himself--vainly, for Beowulf would not loose\nhis grip. Suddenly, with one great cry, Grendel wrenched himself free,\nand staggered to the door, leaving behind a terrible blood-trail, for\nhis arm and shoulder were torn off and left in the victor's grasp. So\nthe monster fled wailing over the moors to his home in the gloomy mere,\nand Beowulf sank panting on a shattered seat, scarce believing in his\nvictory, until his men gathered round, bringing a lighted torch, by the\nflaring gleam of which the green, scaly arm of Grendel looked ghastly\nand threatening. But the monster had fled, and after such a wound as\nthe loss of his arm and shoulder must surely die; therefore the Geats\nraised a shout of triumph, and then took the hateful trophy and\nfastened it high up on the roof of the hall, that all who entered might\nsee the token of victory and recognise that the Geat hero had performed\nhis boast, that he would conquer with no weapon, but by the strength of\nhis hands alone.\n\nIn the morning many a warrior came to Heorot to learn the events of\nthe night, and all saw the grisly trophy, praised Beowulf's might and\ncourage, and followed with eager curiosity the blood-stained track of\nthe fleeing demon till it came to the brink of the gloomy lake, where\nit disappeared, though the waters were stained with gore, and boiled\nand surged with endless commotion. There on the shore the Danes\nrejoiced over the death of their enemy, and returned to Heorot\ncare-free and glad at heart. Meanwhile Beowulf and his Geats stayed in\nHeorot, for Hrothgar had not yet come to receive an account of their\nnight-watch. Throughout the day there was feasting and rejoicing, with\nhorse-races, and wrestling, and manly contests of skill and endurance;\nor the Danes collected around the bard as he chanted the glory of\nSigmund and his son Fitela. Then came King Hrothgar himself, with his\nqueen and her maiden train, and they paused to gaze with horror on the\ndreadful trophy, and to turn with gratitude to the hero who had\ndelivered them from this evil spirit. Hrothgar said: \"Thanks be to the\nAll-Father for this happy sight! Much sorrow have I endured at the\nhands of Grendel, many warriors have I lost, many uncounted years of\nmisery have I lived, but now my woe has an end! Now a youth has\nperformed, with his unaided strength, what all we could not compass\nwith our craft! Well might thy father, O Beowulf, rejoice in thy fame!\nWell may thy mother, if she yet lives, praise the All-Father for the\nnoble son she bore! A son indeed shalt thou be to me in love, and\nnothing thou desirest shalt thou lack, that I can give thee. Often\nhave I rewarded less heroic deeds with great gifts, and to thee I can\ndeny nothing.\"\n\nBeowulf answered: \"We have performed our boast, O King, and have\ndriven away the enemy. I intended to force him down on one of the\nbeds, and to deprive him of his life by mere strength of my hand-grip,\nbut in this I did not succeed, for Grendel escaped from the hall. Yet\nhe left here with me his hand, his arm, and shoulder as a token of his\npresence, and as the ransom with which he bought off the rest of his\nloathsome body; yet none the longer will he live thereby, since he\nbears with him so deadly a wound.\"\n\nThen the hall was cleared of the traces of the conflict and hasty\npreparation was made for a splendid banquet. There was joy in Heorot.\nThe Danes assembled once again free from fear in their splendid hall,\nthe walls were hung with gold-wrought embroideries and hangings of\ncostly stuffs, while richly chased goblets shone on the long tables,\nand men's tongues waxed loud as they discussed and described the\nheroic struggle of the night before. Beowulf and King Hrothgar sat on\nthe high seats opposite to each other, and their men, Danes and Geats,\nsitting side by side, shouted and cheered and drank deeply to the fame\nof Beowulf. The minstrels sang of the Fight in Finnsburg and the deeds\nof Finn and Hnaef, of Hengest and Queen Hildeburh. Long was the chant,\nand it roused the national pride of the Danes to hear of the victory\nof their Danish forefathers over Finn of the Frisians; and merrily the\nbanquet went forward, gladdened still more by the presence of Queen\nWealhtheow. Now Hrothgar showed his lavish generosity and his\nthankfulness by the gifts with which he loaded the Geat chief; and not\nonly Beowulf, but every man of the little troop. Beowulf received a\ngold-embroidered banner, a magnificent sword, helmet, and corslet, a\ngoblet of gold, and eight fleet steeds. On the back of the best was\nstrapped a cunningly wrought saddle, Hrothgar's own, with gold\nornaments. When the Geat hero had thanked the king fittingly, Queen\nWealhtheow arose from her seat, and, lifting the great drinking-cup,\noffered it to her lord, saying:\n\n \"Take thou this goblet, my lord and my ruler,\n O giver of treasure, O gold-friend of heroes,\n And speak to the Geats fair speeches of kindness,\n Be mirthful and joyous, for so should a man be!\n To the Geats be gracious, mindful of presents\n Now that from far and near thou hast firm peace!\n Tidings have come to me that thou for son wilt take\n This mighty warrior who has cleansed Heorot,\n Brightest of banquet-halls! Enjoy while thou mayest\n These manifold pleasures, and leave to thy kinsmen\n Thy lands and thy lordships when thou must journey forth\n To meet thy death.\"\n\nTurning to Beowulf, the queen said: \"Enjoy thy reward, O dear Beowulf,\nwhile thou canst, and live noble and blessed! Keep well thy widespread\nfame, and be a friend to my sons in time to come, should they ever\nneed a protector.\" Then she gave him two golden armlets, set with\njewels, costly rings, a corslet of chain-mail and a wonderful jewelled\ncollar of exquisite ancient workmanship, and, bidding them continue\ntheir feasting, with her maidens she left the hall. The feast went on\ntill Hrothgar also departed to his dwelling, and left the Danes, now\nsecure and careless, to prepare their beds, place each warrior's\nshield at the head, and go to sleep in their armour ready for an\nalarm. Meanwhile Beowulf and the Geats were joyfully escorted to\nanother lodging, where they slept soundly without disturbance.\n\n\nGrendel's Mother\n\nIn the darkness of the night an avenger came to Heorot, came in\nsilence and mystery as Grendel had done, with thoughts of murder and\nhatred raging in her heart. Grendel had gone home to die, but his\nmother, a fiend scarcely less terrible than her son, yet lived to\navenge his death. She arose from her dwelling in the gloomy lake,\nfollowed the fen paths and moorland ways to Heorot, and opened the\ndoor. There was a horrible panic when her presence became known, and\nmen ran hither and thither vainly seeking to attack her; yet there was\nless terror among them than before when they saw the figure of a\nhorrible woman. In spite of all, the monster seized Aschere, one of\nKing Hrothgar's thanes, and bore him away to the fens, leaving a house\nof lamentation where men had feasted so joyously a few hours before.\nThe news was brought to King Hrothgar, who bitterly lamented the loss\nof his wisest and dearest counsellor, and bade them call Beowulf to\nhim, since he alone could help in this extremity. When Beowulf stood\nbefore the king he courteously inquired if his rest had been peaceful.\nHrothgar answered mournfully: \"Ask me not of peace, for care is\nrenewed in Heorot. Dead is Aschere, my best counsellor and friend, the\ntruest of comrades in fight and in council. Such as Aschere was should\na true vassal be! A deadly fiend has slain him in Heorot, and I know\nnot whither she has carried his lifeless body. This is doubtless her\nvengeance for thy slaying of Grendel; he is dead, and his kinswoman\nhas come to avenge him.\"\n\n \"I have heard it reported by some of my people\n That they have looked on two such unearthly ones,\n Huge-bodied march-striders holding the moor wastes;\n One of them seemed to be shaped like a woman,\n Her fellow in exile bore semblance of manhood,\n Though huger his stature than man ever grew to:\n In years that are long gone by Grendel they named him,\n But know not his father nor aught of his kindred.\n Thus these dire monsters dwell in the secret lands,\n Haunt the hills loved by wolves, the windy nesses,\n Dangerous marshy paths, where the dark moorland stream\n 'Neath the o'erhanging cliffs downwards departeth,\n Sinks in the sombre earth. Not far remote from us\n Standeth the gloomy mere, round whose shores cluster\n Groves with their branches mossed, hoary with lichens grey\n A wood firmly rooted o'ershadows the water.\n There is a wonder seen nightly by wanderers,\n Flame in the waterflood: liveth there none of men\n Ancient or wise enough to know its bottom.\n Though the poor stag may be hard by the hounds pursued,\n Though he may seek the wood, chased by his cruel foes,\n Yet will he yield his life to hunters on the brink\n Ere he will hide his head in the dark waters.\n 'Tis an uncanny place. Thence the surge swelleth up\n Dark to the heavens above, when the wind stirreth oft\n Terrible driving storms, till the air darkens,\n The skies fall to weeping.\"\n\nThen Hrothgar burst forth in uncontrollable emotion: \"O Beowulf, help\nus if thou canst! Help is only to be found in thee. But yet thou\nknowest not the dangerous place thou must needs explore if thou seek\nthe fiend in her den. I will richly reward thy valour if thou\nreturnest alive from this hazardous journey.\"\n\nBeowulf was touched by the sorrow of the grey-haired king, and\nreplied:\n\n \"Grieve not, O prudent King! Better it is for each\n That he avenge his friend, than that he mourn him much.\n Each man must undergo death at the end of life.\n Let him win while he may warlike fame in the world!\n That is best after death for the slain warrior.\"\n\n\"Arise, my lord; let us scan the track left by the monster, for I\npromise thee I will never lose it, wheresoever it may lead me. Only\nhave patience yet for this one day of misery, as I am sure thou wilt.\"\n\nHrothgar sprang up joyously, almost youthfully, and ordered his horse\nto be saddled; then, with Beowulf beside him, and a mixed throng of\nGeats and Danes following, he rode away towards the home of the\nmonsters, the dread lake which all men shunned. The blood-stained\ntracks were easy to see, and the avengers moved on swiftly till they\ncame to the edge of the mere, and there, with grief and horror, saw\nthe head of Aschere lying on the bank.\n\n[Illustration: Beowulf finds the head of Aschere]\n\n \"The lake boiled with blood, with hot welling gore;\n The warriors gazed awe-struck, and the dread horn sang\n From time to time fiercely eager defiance.\n The warriors sat down there, and saw on the water\n The sea-dragons swimming to search the abysses.\n They saw on the steep nesses sea-monsters lying,\n Snakes and weird creatures: these madly shot away\n Wrathful and venomous when the sound smote their ears,\n The blast of the war-horn.\"\n\nAs Beowulf stood on the shore and watched the uncouth sea-creatures,\nserpents, nicors, monstrous beasts of all kinds, he suddenly drew his\nbow and shot one of them to the heart. The rest darted furiously away,\nand the thanes were able to drag the carcase of the slain beast on\nshore, where they surveyed it with wonder.\n\n\nThe Fight with Grendel's Mother\n\nMeanwhile Beowulf had made ready for his task. He trusted to his\nwell-woven mail, the corslet fitting closely to his body and\nprotecting his breast, the shining helm guarding his head, bright with\nthe boar-image on the crest, and the mighty sword Hrunting, which\nHunferth, his jealousy forgotten in admiration, pressed on the\nadventurous hero.\n\n \"That sword was called Hrunting, an ancient heritage.\n Steel was the blade itself, tempered with poison-twigs,\n Hardened with battle-blood: never in fight it failed\n Any who wielded it, when he would wage a strife\n In the dire battlefield, folk-moot of enemies.\"\n\nWhen Beowulf stood ready with naked sword in hand, he turned and\nlooked at his loyal followers, his friendly hosts, the grey old King\nHrothgar, the sun and the green earth, which he might never see again;\nbut it was with no trace of weakness or fear that he spoke:\n\n \"Forget not, O noble kinsman of Healfdene,\n Illustrious ruler, gold-friend of warriors,\n What we two settled when we spake together,\n If I for thy safety should end here my life-days,\n That thou wouldst be to me, though dead, as a father.\n Be to my kindred thanes, my battle-comrades,\n A worthy protector should death o'ertake me.\n Do thou, dear Hrothgar, send all these treasures here\n Which thou hast given me, to my king, Hygelac.\n Then may the Geat king, brave son of Hrethel dead,\n See by the gold and gems, know by the treasures there,\n That I found a generous lord, whom I loved in my life.\n Give thou to Hunferth too my wondrous old weapon,\n The sword with its graven blade; let the right valiant man\n Have the keen war-blade: I will win fame with his,\n With Hrunting, noble brand, or death shall take me.\"\n\nBeowulf dived downward, as it seemed to him, for the space of a day\nere he could perceive the floor of that sinister lake, and all that\ntime he had to fight the sea-beasts, for they, attacking him with tusk\nand horn, strove to break his ring-mail, but in vain. As Beowulf came\nnear the bottom he felt himself seized in long, scaly arms of gigantic\nstrength. The fierce claws of the wolfish sea-woman strove eagerly to\nreach his heart through his mail, but in vain; so the she-wolf of the\nwaters, a being awful and loathsome, bore him to her abode, rushing\nthrough thick clusters of horrible sea-beasts.\n\n \"The hero now noticed he was in some hostile hall,\n Where him the water-stream no whit might injure,\n Nor for the sheltering roof the rush of the raging flood\n Ever could touch him. He saw the strange flickering flame,\n Weird lights in the water, shining with livid sheen:\n He saw, too, the ocean-wolf, the hateful sea-woman.\"\n\nTerrible and almost superhuman was the contest which now followed: the\nawful sea-woman flung Beowulf down on his back and stabbed at him with\npoint and edge of her broad knife, seeking some vulnerable point; but\nthe good corslet resisted all her efforts, and Beowulf, exerting his\nmighty force, overthrew her and sprang to his feet. Angered beyond\nmeasure, he brandished the flaming sword Hrunting, and flashed one\ngreat blow at her head which would have killed her had her scales and\nhair been vulnerable; but alas! the edge of the blade turned on her\nscaly hide, and the blow failed. Wrathfully Beowulf cast aside the\nuseless sword, and determined to trust once again to his hand-grip.\nGrendel's mother now felt, in her turn, the deadly power of Beowulf's\ngrasp, and was borne to the ground; but the struggle continued long,\nfor Beowulf was weaponless, since the sword failed in its work. Yet\nsome weapon he must have.\n\n \"So he gazed at the walls, saw there a glorious sword,\n An old brand gigantic, trusty in point and edge,\n An heirloom of heroes; that was the best of blades,\n Splendid and stately, the forging of giants;\n But it was huger than any of human race\n Could bear to battle-strife, save Beowulf only.\"\n\nThis mighty sword, a relic of earlier and greater races, brought new\nhope to Beowulf. Springing up, he snatched it from the wall and swung\nit fiercely round his head. The blow fell with crushing force on the\nneck of the sea-woman, the dread wolf of the abyss, and broke the\nbones. Dead the monster sank to the ground, and Beowulf, standing\nerect, saw at his feet the lifeless carcase of his foe. The hero still\ngrasped his sword and looked warily along the walls of the\nwater-dwelling, lest some other foe should emerge from its recesses;\nbut as he gazed Beowulf saw his former foe, Grendel, lying dead on a\nbed in some inner hall. He strode thither, and, seizing the corpse by\nthe hideous coiled locks, shore off the head to carry to earth again.\nThe poisonous hot blood of the monster melted the blade of the mighty\nsword, and nothing remained but the hilt, wrought with curious\nornaments and signs of old time. This hilt and Grendel's head were all\nthat Beowulf carried off from the water-fiends' dwelling; and laden\nwith these the hero sprang up through the now clear and sparkling\nwater.\n\n[Illustration: Beowulf shears off the head of Grendel]\n\nMeanwhile the Danes and Geats had waited long for his reappearance.\nWhen the afternoon was well advanced the Danes departed sadly,\nlamenting the hero's death, for they concluded no man could have\nsurvived so long beneath the waters; but his loyal Geats sat there\nstill gazing sadly at the waves, and hoping against all hope that\nBeowulf would reappear. At length they saw changes in the mere--the\nblood boiling upwards in the lake, the quenching of the unholy light,\nthen the flight of the sea-monsters and a gradual clearing of the\nwaters, through which at last they could see their lord uprising. How\ngladly they greeted him! What awe and wonder seized them as they\nsurveyed his dreadful booty, the ghastly head of Grendel and the\nmassive hilt of the gigantic sword! How eagerly they listened to his\nstory, and how they vied with one another for the glory of bearing his\narmour, his spoils, and his weapons back over the moorlands and the\nfens to Heorot. It was a proud and glad troop that followed Beowulf\ninto the hall, and up through the startled throng until they laid down\nbefore the feet of King Hrothgar the hideous head of his dead foe, and\nBeowulf, raising his voice that all might hear above the buzz and hum\nof the great banquet-hall, thus addressed the king:\n\n \"Lo! we this sea-booty, O wise son of Healfdene,\n Lord of the Scyldings, have brought for thy pleasure,\n In token of triumph, as thou here seest.\n From harm have I hardly escaped with my life,\n The war under water sustained I with trouble,\n The conflict was almost decided against me,\n If God had not guarded me! Nought could I conquer\n With Hrunting in battle, though 'tis a doughty blade.\n But the gods granted me that I saw suddenly\n Hanging high in the hall a bright brand gigantic:\n So seized I and swung it that in the strife I slew\n The lords of the dwelling. The mighty blade melted fast\n In the hot boiling blood, the poisonous battle-gore;\n But the hilt have I here borne from the hostile hall.\n I have avenged the crime, the death of the Danish folk,\n As it behoved me. Now can I promise thee\n That thou in Heorot care-free mayest slumber\n With all thy warrior-troop and all thy kindred thanes,\n The young and the aged: thou needst not fear for them\n Death from these mortal foes, as thou of yore hast done.\"\n\nKing Hrothgar was now more delighted than ever at the return of his\nfriend and the slaughter of his foes. He gazed in delight and wonder\nat the gory head of the monster, and the gigantic hilt of the weapon\nwhich struck it off. Then, taking the glorious hilt, and scanning\neagerly the runes which showed its history, as the tumult stilled in\nthe hall, and all men listened for his speech, he broke out: \"Lo! this\nmay any man say, who maintains truth and right among his people, that\ngood though he may be this hero is even better! Thy glory is\nwidespread, Beowulf my friend, among thine own and many other nations,\nfor thou hast fulfilled all things by patience and prudence. I will\nsurely perform what I promised thee, as we agreed before; and I\nforetell of thee that thou wilt be long a help and protection to thy\npeople.\"\n\nKing Hrothgar spoke long and eloquently while all men listened, for he\nreminded them of mighty warriors of old who had not won such glorious\nfame, and warned them against pride and lack of generosity and\nself-seeking; and then, ending with thanks and fresh gifts to Beowulf,\nhe bade the feast continue with increased jubilation. The tumultuous\nrejoicing lasted till darkness settled on the land, and when it ended\nall retired to rest free from fear, since no more fiendish monsters\nwould break in upon their slumbers; gladly and peacefully the night\npassed, and with the morn came Beowulf's resolve to return to his king\nand his native land.\n\nWhen Beowulf had come to this decision he went to Hrothgar and said:\n\n \"Now we sea-voyagers come hither from afar\n Must utter our intent to seek King Hygelac.\n Here were we well received, well hast thou treated us.\n If on this earth I can do more to win thy love,\n O prince of warriors, than I have wrought as yet,\n Here stand I ready now weapons to wield for thee.\n If I shall ever hear o'er the encircling flood\n That any neighbouring foes threaten thy nation's fall,\n As Grendel grim before, swift will I bring to thee\n Thousands of noble thanes, heroes to help thee.\n I know of Hygelac, King of the Geat folk,\n That he will strengthen me (though he is young in years)\n In words and warlike deeds to bear my warrior-spear\n Over the ocean surge, when arms would serve thy need,\n Swift to thine aid. If thy son Hrethric young\n Comes to the Geat court, there to gain skill in arms,\n Then will he surely find many friends waiting him:\n Better in distant lands learneth by journeying\n He who is valiant.\"\n\nHrothgar was greatly moved by the words of the Geat hero and his\npromise of future help. He wondered to find such wisdom in so young a\nwarrior, and felt that the Geats could never choose a better king if\nbattle should cut off the son of Hygelac, and he renewed his assurance\nof continual friendship between the two countries and of enduring\npersonal affection. Finally, with fresh gifts of treasure and with\ntears of regret Hrothgar embraced Beowulf and bade him go speedily to\nhis ship, since a friend's yearning could not retain him longer from\nhis native land. So the little troop of Geats with their gifts and\ntreasures marched proudly to their vessel and sailed away to Geatland,\ntheir dragon-prowed ship laden with armour and jewels and steeds,\ntokens of remembrance and thanks from the grateful Danes.\n\n\nBeowulf's Return\n\nBlithe-hearted were the voyagers, and gaily the ship danced over the\nwaves, as the Geats strained their eyes towards the cliffs of their\nhome and the well-known shores of their country. When their vessel\napproached the land the coast-warden came hurrying to greet them, for\nhe had watched the ocean day and night for the return of the valiant\nwanderers. Gladly he welcomed them, and bade his underlings help to\nbear their spoils up to the royal palace, where King Hygelac, himself\nyoung and valiant, awaited his victorious kinsman, with his beauteous\nqueen, Hygd, beside him. Then came Beowulf, treading proudly the rocky\npaths to the royal abode, for messengers had gone in advance to\nannounce to the king his nephew's success, and a banquet was being\nprepared, where Beowulf would sit beside his royal kinsman.\n\nOnce more there was a splendid feast, with tumultuous rejoicing. Again\na queenly hand--that of the beauteous Hygd--poured out the first bowl\nin which to celebrate the safe return of the victorious hero. And now\nthe wonderful story of the slaying of the fen-fiends must be told.\n\nBeowulf was called upon to describe again his perils and his\nvictories, and told in glowing language of the grisly monsters and the\ndesperate combats, and of the boundless gratitude and splendid\ngenerosity of the Danish king, and of his prophecy of lasting\nfriendship between the Danes and the Geats. Then he concluded:\n\n \"Thus that great nation's king lived in all noble deeds.\n Of guerdon I failed not, of meed for my valour,\n But the wise son of Healfdene gave to me treasures great,\n Gifts to my heart's desire. These now I bring to thee,\n Offer them lovingly: now are my loyalty\n And service due to thee, O hero-king, alone!\n Near kinsmen have I few but thee, O Hygelac!\"\n\nAs the hero showed the treasures with which Hrothgar had rewarded his\ncourage, he distributed them generously among his kinsmen and friends,\ngiving his priceless jewelled collar to Queen Hygd, and his best steed\nto King Hygelac, as a true vassal and kinsman should. So Beowulf\nresumed his place as Hygelac's chief warrior and champion, and settled\ndown among his own people.\n\n\nFifty Years After\n\nWhen half a century had passed away, great and sorrowful changes had\ntaken place in the two kingdoms of Denmark and Geatland. Hrothgar was\ndead, and had been succeeded by his son Hrethric, and Hygelac had been\nslain in a warlike expedition against the Hetware. In this expedition\nBeowulf had accompanied Hygelac, and had done all a warrior could do\nto save his kinsman and his king. When he saw his master slain he had\nfought his way through the encircling foes to the sea-shore, where,\nthough sorely wounded, he flung himself into the sea and swam back to\nGeatland. There he had told Queen Hygd of the untimely death of her\nhusband, and had called on her to assume the regency of the kingdom\nfor her young son Heardred. Queen Hygd called an assembly of the\nGeats, and there, with the full consent of the nation, offered the\ncrown to Beowulf, the wisest counsellor and bravest hero among them;\nbut he refused to accept it, and so swayed the Geats by his eloquence\nand his loyalty that they unanimously raised Heardred to the throne,\nwith Beowulf as his guardian and protector. When in later years\nHeardred also fell before an enemy, Beowulf was again chosen king, and\nas he was now the next of kin he accepted the throne, and ruled long\nand gloriously over Geatland. His fame as a warrior kept his country\nfree from invasion, and his wisdom as a statesman increased its\nprosperity and happiness; whilst the vengeance he took for his\nkinsman's death fulfilled all ideals of family and feudal duty held by\nthe men of his time. Beowulf, in fact, became an ideal king, as he was\nan ideal warrior and hero, and he closed his life by an ideal act of\nself-sacrifice for the good of his people.\n\n\nBeowulf and the Fire-Dragon\n\nIn the fiftieth year of Beowulf's reign a great terror fell upon the\nland: terror of a monstrous fire-dragon, who flew forth by night from\nhis den in the rocks, lighting up the blackness with his blazing\nbreath, and burning houses and homesteads, men and cattle, with the\nflames from his mouth. The glare from his fiery scales was like the\ndawn-glow in the sky, but his passage left behind it every night a\ntrail of black, charred desolation to confront the rising sun. Yet the\ndragon's wrath was in some way justified, since he had been robbed,\nand could not trace the thief. Centuries before Beowulf's lifetime a\nmighty family of heroes had gathered together, by feats of arms, and\nby long inheritance, an immense treasure of cups and goblets, of\nnecklaces and rings, of swords and helmets and armour, cunningly\nwrought by magic spells; they had joyed in their cherished hoard for\nlong years, until all had died but one, and he survived solitary,\nmiserable, brooding over the fate of the dearly loved treasure. At\nlast he caused his servants to make a strong fastness in the rocks,\nwith cunningly devised entrances, known only to himself, and thither,\nwith great toil and labour of aged limbs, he carried and hid the\nprecious treasure. As he sadly regarded it, and thought of its future\nfate, he cried aloud:\n\n \"Hold thou now fast, O earth, now men no longer can,\n The treasure of mighty earls. From thee brave men won it\n In days that are long gone by, but slaughter seized on them,\n Death fiercely vanquished them, each of my warriors,\n Each one of my people, who closed their life-days here\n After the joy of earth. None have I sword to wield\n Or bring me the goblet, the richly wrought vessel.\n All the true heroes have elsewhere departed!\n Now must the gilded helm lose its adornments,\n For those who polished it sleep in the gloomy grave,\n Those who made ready erst war-gear of warriors.\n Likewise the battle-sark which in the fight endured\n Bites of the keen-edged blades midst the loud crash of shields\n Rusts, with its wearer dead. Nor may the woven mail\n After the chieftain's death wide with a champion rove.\n Gone is the joy of harp, gone is the music's mirth.\n Now the hawk goodly-winged hovers not through the hall,\n Nor the swift-footed mare tramples the castle court:\n Baleful death far has sent all living tribes of men.\"\n\nWhen this solitary survivor of the ancient race died his hoard\nremained alone, unknown, untouched, until at length the fiery dragon,\nseeking a shelter among the rocks, found the hidden way to the cave,\nand, creeping within, discovered the lofty inner chamber and the\nwondrous hoard. For three hundred winters he brooded over it\nunchallenged, and then one day a hunted fugitive, fleeing from the\nfury of an avenging chieftain, in like manner found the cave, and the\ndragon sleeping on his gold. Terrified almost to death, the fugitive\neagerly seized a marvellously wrought chalice and bore it stealthily\naway, feeling sure that such an offering would appease his lord's\nwrath and atone for his offence. But when the dragon awoke he\ndiscovered that he had been robbed, and his keen scent assured him\nthat some one of mankind was the thief. As he could not at once see\nthe robber, he crept around the outside of the barrow snuffing eagerly\nto find traces of the spoiler, but it was in vain; then, growing more\nwrathful, he flew over the inhabited country, shedding fiery death\nfrom his glowing scales and flaming breath, while no man dared to face\nthis flying horror of the night.\n\nThe news came to Beowulf that his folk were suffering and dying, and\nthat no warrior dared to risk his life in an effort to deliver the\nland from this deadly devastation; and although he was now an aged man\nhe decided to attack the fire-drake. Beowulf knew that he would not be\nable to come to hand-grips with this foe as he had done with Grendel\nand his mother: the fiery breath of this dragon was far too deadly,\nand he must trust to armour for protection. He commanded men to make\na shield entirely of iron, for he knew that the usual shield of\nlinden-wood would be instantly burnt up in the dragon's flaming\nbreath. He then chose with care eleven warriors, picked men of his own\nbodyguard, to accompany him in this dangerous quest. They compelled\nthe unhappy fugitive whose theft had begun the trouble to act as their\nguide, and thus they marched to the lonely spot where the dragon's\nbarrow stood close to the sea-shore. The guide went unwillingly, but\nwas forced thereto by his lord, because he alone knew the way.\n\n\nBeowulf Faces Death\n\nWhen the little party reached the place they halted for a time, and\nBeowulf sat down meditating sadly on his past life, and on the chances\nof this great conflict which he was about to begin. When he had\nstriven with Grendel, when he had fought against the Hetware, he had\nbeen confident of victory and full of joyous self-reliance, but now\nthings were changed. Beowulf was an old man, and there hung over him a\nsad foreboding that this would be his last fight, and that he would\nrid the land of no more monsters. Wyrd seemed to threaten him, and a\nsense of coming woe lay heavy on his heart as he spoke to his little\ntroop: \"Many great fights I had in my youth. How well I remember them\nall! I was only seven years old when King Hrethel took me to bring up,\nand loved me as dearly as his own sons, Herebeald, Hathcyn, or my own\ndear lord Hygelac. Great was our grief when Hathcyn, hunting in the\nforest, slew all unwittingly his elder brother: greater than ordinary\nsorrow, because we could not avenge him on the murderer! It would have\ngiven no joy to Hrethel to see his second son killed disgracefully as\na murderer! So we endured the pain till King Hrethel died, borne down\nby his bitter loss, and I wept for my protector, my kinsman. Then\nHathcyn died also, slain by the Swedes, and my dear lord Hygelac came\nto the throne: he was gracious to me, a giver of weapons, a generous\ndistributor of treasure, and I repaid him as much as I could in battle\nagainst his foes. Daghrefn, the Frankish warrior who slew my king, I\nsent to his doom with my deadly hand-grip: he, at least, should not\nshow my lord's armour as trophy of his prowess. But this fight is\ndifferent: here I must use both point and edge, as I was not wont in\nmy youth: but here too will I, old though I be, work deeds of valour.\nI will not give way the space of one foot, but will meet him here in\nhis own abode and make all my boasting good. Abide ye here, ye\nwarriors, for this is not your expedition, nor the work of any man but\nme alone; wait till ye know which is triumphant, for I will win the\ngold and save my people, or death shall take me.\" So saying he raised\nhis great shield, and, unaccompanied, set his face to the dark\nentrance, where a stream, boiling with strange heat, flowed forth from\nthe cave; so hot was the air that he stood, unable to advance far for\nthe suffocating steam and smoke. Angered by his impotence, Beowulf\nraised his voice and shouted a furious defiance to the awesome\nguardian of the barrow. Thus aroused, the dragon sprang up, roaring\nhideously and flapping his glowing wings together; out from the\nrecesses of the barrow came his fiery breath, and then followed the\nterrible beast himself. Coiling and writhing he came, with head\nraised, and scales of burnished blue and green, glowing with inner\nheat; from his nostrils rushed two streams of fiery breath, and his\nflaming eyes shot flashes of consuming fire. He half flew, half sprang\nat Beowulf. But the hero did not retreat one step. His bright sword\nflashed in the air as he wounded the beast, but not mortally, striking\na mighty blow on his scaly head. The guardian of the hoard writhed and\nwas stunned for a moment, and then sprang at Beowulf, sending forth so\ndense a cloud of flaming breath that the hero stood in a mist of fire.\nSo terrible was the heat that the iron shield glowed red-hot and the\nring-mail on the hero's limbs seared him as a furnace, and his breast\nswelled with the keen pain: so terrible was the fiery cloud that the\nGeats, seated some distance away, turned and fled, seeking the cool\nshelter of the neighbouring woods, and left their heroic lord to\nsuffer and die alone.\n\n\nBeowulf's Death\n\nAmong the cowardly Geats, however, there was one who thought it\nshameful to flee--Wiglaf, the son of Weohstan. He was young, but a\nbrave warrior, to whom Beowulf had shown honour, and on whom he had\nshowered gifts, for he was a kinsman, and had proved himself worthy.\nNow he showed that Beowulf's favour had been justified, for he seized\nhis shield, of yellow linden-wood, took his ancient sword in hand, and\nprepared to rush to Beowulf's aid. With bitter words he reproached his\ncowardly comrades, saying: \"I remember how we boasted, as we sat in\nthe mead hall and drank the foaming ale, as we took gladly the gold\nand jewels which our king lavished upon us, that we would repay him\nfor all his gifts, if ever such need there were! Now is the need come\nupon him, and we are here! Beowulf chose us from all his bodyguard to\nhelp him in this mighty struggle, and we have betrayed and deserted\nhim, and left him alone against a terrible foe. Now the day has come\nwhen our lord should see our valour, and we flee from his side! Up,\nlet us go and aid him, even while the grim battle-flame flares around\nhim. God knows that I would rather risk my body in the fiery cloud\nthan stay here while my king fights and dies! Not such disloyalty has\nBeowulf deserved through his long reign that he should stand alone in\nthe death-struggle. He and I will die together, or side by side will\nwe conquer.\" The youthful warrior tried in vain to rouse the courage\nof his companions: they trembled, and would not move. So Wiglaf,\nholding on high his shield, plunged into the fiery cloud and moved\ntowards his king, crying aloud: \"Beowulf, my dear lord, let not thy\nglory be dimmed. Achieve this last deed of valour, as thou didst\npromise in days of yore, that thy fame should not fall, and I will aid\nthee.\"\n\nThe sound of another voice roused the dragon to greater fury, and\nagain came the fiery cloud, burning up like straw Wiglaf's linden\nshield, and torturing both warriors as they stood behind the iron\nshield with their heated armour. But they fought on manfully, and\nBeowulf, gathering up his strength, struck the dragon such a blow on\nthe head that his ancient sword was shivered to fragments. The dragon,\nenraged, now flew at Beowulf and seized him by the neck with his\npoisonous fangs, so that the blood gushed out in streams, and ran down\nhis corslet. Wiglaf was filled with grief and horror at this dreadful\nsight, and, leaving the protection of Beowulf's iron shield, dashed\nforth at the dragon, piercing the scaly body in a vital part. At once\nthe fire began to fade away, and Beowulf, mastering his anguish, drew\nhis broad knife, and with a last effort cut the hideous reptile\nasunder. Then the agony of the envenomed wound came upon him, and his\nlimbs burnt and ached with intolerable pain. In growing distress he\nstaggered to a rough ancient seat, carved out of the rock, hard by\nthe door of the barrow. There he sank down, and Wiglaf laved his brow\nwith water from the little stream, which boiled and steamed no longer.\nThen Beowulf partially recovered himself, and said: \"Now I bequeath to\nthee, my son, the armour which I also inherited. Fifty years have I\nruled this people in peace, so that none of my neighbours durst attack\nus. I have endured and toiled much on this earth, have held my own\njustly, have pursued none with crafty hatred, nor sworn unjust oaths.\nAt all this may I rejoice now that I lie mortally wounded. Do thou, O\ndear Wiglaf, bring forth quickly from the cave the treasures for which\nI lose my life, that I may see them and be glad in my nation's wealth\nere I die.\"\n\nThereupon Wiglaf entered the barrow, and was dazed by the bewildering\nhoard of costly treasures. Filling his arms with such a load as he\ncould carry, he hastened out of the barrow, fearing even then to find\nhis lord dead. Then he flung down the treasures--magic armour,\ndwarf-wrought swords, carved goblets, flashing gems, and a golden\nstandard--at Beowulf's feet, so that the ancient hero's dying gaze\ncould fall on the hoard he had won for his people. But Beowulf was now\nso near death that he swooned away, till Wiglaf again flung water over\nhim, and the dying champion roused himself to say, as he grasped his\nkinsman's hand and looked at the glittering heap before him:\n\n \"I thank God eternal, the great King of Glory,\n For the vast treasures which I here gaze upon,\n That I ere my death-day might for my people\n Win so great wealth. Since I have given my life,\n Thou must now look to the needs of the nation;\n Here dwell I no longer, for Destiny calleth me!\n Bid thou my warriors after my funeral pyre\n Build me a burial-cairn high on the sea-cliff's head;\n It shall for memory tower up on Hronesness,\n So that the seafarers Beowulf's Barrow\n Henceforth shall name it, they who drive far and wide\n Over the mighty flood their foamy keels.\n Thou art the last of all the kindred of Wagmund!\n Wyrd has swept all my kin, all the brave chiefs away!\n Now must I follow them!\"\n\nThese last words spoken, Beowulf fell back, and his soul passed away,\nto meet the joy reserved for all true and steadfast spirits. The hero\nwas dead, but amid his grief Wiglaf yet remembered that the dire\nmonster too lay dead, and the folk were delivered from the horrible\nplague, though at terrible cost! Wiglaf, as he mourned over his dead\nlord, resolved that no man should joy in the treasures for which so\ngrievous a price had been paid--the cowards who deserted their king\nshould help to lay the treasures in his grave and bury them far from\nhuman use and profit. Accordingly, when the ten faithless dastards\nventured out from the shelter of the wood, and came shamefacedly to\nthe place where Wiglaf sat, sorrowing, at the head of dead Beowulf, he\nstilled their cries of grief with one wave of the hand, which had\nstill been vainly striving to arouse his king by gentle touch, and,\ngazing scornfully at them, he cried: \"Lo! well may a truthful man say,\nseeing you here, safely in the war-gear and ornaments which our dead\nhero gave you, that Beowulf did but throw away his generous gifts,\nsince all he bought with them was treachery and cowardice in the day\nof battle! No need had Beowulf to boast of his warriors in time of\ndanger! Yet he alone avenged his people and conquered the fiend--I\ncould help him but little in the fray, though I did what I could: all\ntoo few champions thronged round our hero when his need was sorest.\nNow are all the joys of love and loyalty ended; now is all prosperity\ngone from our nation, when foreign princes hear of your flight and\nthe shameless deed of this day. Better is death to every man than a\nlife of shame!\"\n\n[Illustration: The death of Beowulf]\n\nThe Geats stood silent, abashed before the keen and deserved\nreproaches of the young hero, and they lamented the livelong day. None\nleft the shore and their lord's dead corpse; but one man who rode over\nthe cliff near by saw the mournful little band, with Beowulf dead in\nthe midst. This warrior galloped away to tell the people, saying: \"Now\nis our ruler, the lord of the Geats, stretched dead on the plain,\nstricken by the dragon which lies dead beside him; and at his head\nsits Wiglaf, son of Weohstan, lamenting his royal kinsman. Now is the\njoy and prosperity of our folk vanished! Now shall our enemies make\nraids upon us, for we have none to withstand them! But let us hasten\nto bury our king, to bear him royally to his grave, with mourning and\ntears of woe.\" These unhappy tidings roused the Geats, and they\nhastened to see if it were really true, and found all as the messenger\nhad said, and wondered at the mighty dragon and the glorious hoard of\ngold. They feared the monster and coveted the treasure, but all felt\nthat the command now lay with Wiglaf. At last Wiglaf roused himself\nfrom his silent grief and said: \"O men of the Geats, I am not to blame\nthat our king lies here lifeless. He would fight the dragon and win\nthe treasure; and these he has done, though he lost his life therein;\nyea, and I aided him all that I might, though it was but little I\ncould do. Now our dear lord Beowulf bade me greet you from him, and\nbid you to make for him, after his funeral pyre, a great and mighty\ncairn, even as he was the most glorious of men in his lifetime. Bring\nye all the treasures, bring quickly a bier, and place thereon our\nking's corpse, and let us bear our dear lord to Hronesness, where\nhis funeral fire shall be kindled, and his burial cairn built.\"\n\nThe Geats, bitterly grieving, fulfilled Wiglaf's commands. They\ngathered wood for the fire, and piled it on the cliff-head; then eight\nchosen ones brought thither the treasures, and threw the dragon's body\nover the cliff into the sea; then a wain, hung with shields, was\nbrought to bear the corpse of Beowulf to Hronesness, where it was\nsolemnly laid on the funeral pile and consumed to ashes.\n\n \"There then the Weder Geats wrought for their ruler dead\n A cairn on the ocean cliff widespread and lofty,\n Visible far and near by vessels' wandering crews.\n They built in ten days' space the hero's monument,\n And wrought with shining swords the earthen rampart wall,\n So that the wisest men worthy might deem it.\n Then in that cairn they placed necklets and rings and gems\n Which from the dragon's hoard brave men had taken.\n Back to the earth they gave treasures of ancient folk,\n Gold to the gloomy mould, where it now lieth\n Useless to sons of men as it e'er was of yore.\n Then round the mound there rode twelve manly warriors,\n Chanting their bitter grief, singing the hero dead,\n Mourning their noble king in fitting words of woe!\n They praised his courage high and his proud, valiant deeds,\n Honoured him worthily, as it is meet for men\n Duly to praise in words their friendly lord and king\n When his soul wanders forth far from its fleshly home.\n So all the Geat chiefs, Beowulf's bodyguard,\n Wept for their leader's fall: sang in their loud laments\n That he of earthly kings mildest to all men was,\n Gentlest, most gracious, most keen to win glory.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II: THE DREAM OF MAXEN WLEDIG\n\n\nThe Position of Constantine\n\nIt would seem that the Emperor Constantine the Great loomed very large\nin the eyes of mediaeval England. Even in Anglo-Saxon times many\nlegends clustered round his name, so that Cynewulf, the religious poet\nof early England, wrote the poem of \"Elene\" mainly on the subject of\nhis conversion. The story of the Vision of the Holy Cross with the\ninscription _In hoc signo vinces_ was inspiring to a poet to whom the\nheathen were a living reality, not a distant abstraction; and\nConstantine's generosity to the Church of Rome and its bishop\nSylvester added another element of attraction to his character in the\nmediaeval mind. It is hardly surprising that other legends of his\nconversion and generosity should have sprung up, which differ entirely\nfrom the earlier and more authentic record. Thus \"the moral Gower\" has\npreserved for us an alternative legend of the cause of Constantine's\nconversion, which forms a good illustration of the virtue of pity in\nthe \"Confessio Amantis.\" Whence this later legend sprang we have no\nknowledge, for nothing in the known history of Constantine warrants\nour regarding him as a disciple of mercy, but its existence shows that\nthe mediaeval mind was busied with his personality. Another most\ninteresting proof of his importance to Britain is given in the\nfollowing legend of \"The Dream of Maxen Wledig,\" preserved in the\n\"Mabinogion.\" This belongs to the Welsh patriotic legends, and tends\nto glorify the marriage of the British Princess Helena with the Roman\nemperor, by representing it as preordained by Fate. The fact that the\nhero of the Welsh saga is the Emperor Maxentius instead of\nConstantius detracts little from the interest of the legend, which is\nonly one instance of the well-known theme of the lover led by dream,\nor vision, or magic glass to the home and heart of the beloved.\n\n\nThe Emperor Maxen Wledig\n\nThe Emperor Maxen Wledig was the most powerful occupant of the throne\nof the Caesars who had ever ruled Europe from the City of the Seven\nHills. He was the most handsome man in his dominions, tall and strong\nand skilled in all manly exercises; withal he was gracious and\nfriendly to all his vassals and tributary kings, so that he was\nuniversally beloved. One day he announced his wish to go hunting, and\nwas accompanied on his expedition down the Tiber valley by thirty-two\nvassal kings, with whom he enjoyed the sport heartily. At noon the\nheat was intense, they were far from Rome, and all were weary. The\nemperor proposed a halt, and they dismounted to take rest. Maxen lay\ndown to sleep with his head on a shield, and soldiers and attendants\nstood around making a shelter for him from the sun's rays by a roof of\nshields hung on their spears. Thus he fell into a sleep so deep that\nnone dared to awake him. Hours passed by, and still he slumbered, and\nstill his whole retinue waited impatiently for his awakening. At\nlength, when the evening shadows began to lie long and black on the\nground, their impatience found vent in little restless movements of\nhounds chafing in their leashes, of spears clashing, of shields\ndropping from the weariness of their holders, and horses neighing and\nprancing; and then Maxen Wledig awoke suddenly with a start. \"Ah, why\ndid you arouse me?\" he asked sadly. \"Lord, your dinner hour is long\npast--did you not know?\" they said. He shook his head mournfully, but\nsaid no word, and, mounting his horse, turned it and rode in unbroken\nsilence back to Rome, with his head sunk on his breast. Behind him\nrode in dismay his retinue of kings and tributaries, who knew nothing\nof the cause of his sorrowful mood.\n\n\nThe Emperor's Malady\n\nFrom that day the emperor was changed, changed utterly. He rode no\nmore, he hunted no more, he paid no heed to the business of the\nempire, but remained in seclusion in his own apartments and slept. The\ncourt banquets continued without him, music and song he refused to\nhear, and though in his sleep he smiled and was happy, when he awoke\nhis melancholy could not be cheered or his gloom lightened. When this\ncondition of things had continued for more than a week it was\ndetermined that the emperor must be aroused from this dreadful state\nof apathy, and his groom of the chamber, a noble Roman of very high\nrank--indeed, a king, under the emperor--resolved to make the\nendeavour.\n\n\"My lord,\" said he, \"I have evil tidings for you. The people of Rome\nare beginning to murmur against you, because of the change that has\ncome over you. They say that you are bewitched, that they can get no\nanswers or decisions from you, and all the affairs of the empire go to\nwrack and ruin while you sleep and take no heed. You have ceased to be\ntheir emperor, they say, and they will cease to be loyal to you.\"\n\n\nThe Dream of the Emperor\n\nThen Maxen Wledig roused himself and said to the noble: \"Call hither\nmy wisest senators and councillors, and I will explain the cause of my\nmelancholy, and perhaps they will be able to give me relief.\"\nAccordingly the senators came together, and the emperor ascended his\nthrone, looking so mournful that the whole Senate grieved for him, and\nfeared lest death should speedily overtake him. He began to address\nthem thus:\n\n\"Senators and Sages of Rome, I have heard that my people murmur\nagainst me, and will rebel if I do not arouse myself. A terrible fate\nhas fallen upon me, and I see no way of escape from my misery, unless\nye can find one. It is now more than a week since I went hunting with\nmy court, and when I was wearied I dismounted and slept. In my sleep I\ndreamt, and a vision cast its spell upon me, so that I feel no\nhappiness unless I am sleeping, and seem to live only in my dreams. I\nthought I was hunting along the Tiber valley, lost my courtiers, and\nrode to the head of the valley alone. There the river flowed forth\nfrom a great mountain, which looked to me the highest in the world;\nbut I ascended it, and found beyond fair and fertile plains, far\nvaster than any in our Italy, with mighty rivers flowing through the\nlovely country to the sea. I followed the course of the greatest\nriver, and reached its mouth, where a noble port stood on the shores\nof a sea unknown to me. In the harbour lay a fleet of well-appointed\nships, and one of these was most beautifully adorned, its planks\ncovered with gold or silver, and its sails of silk. As a gangway of\ncarved ivory led to the deck, I crossed it and entered the vessel,\nwhich immediately sailed out of the harbour into the ocean. The voyage\nwas not of long duration, for we soon came to land in a wondrously\nbeautiful island, with scenery of varied loveliness. This island I\ntraversed, led by some secret guidance, till I reached its farthest\nshore, broken by cliffs and precipices and mountain ranges, while\nbetween the mountains and the sea I saw a fair and fruitful land\ntraversed by a silvery, winding river, with a castle at its mouth. My\nlonging drew me to the castle, and when I came to the gate I entered,\nfor the dwelling stood open to every man, and such a hall as was\ntherein I have never seen for splendour, even in Imperial Rome. The\nwalls were covered with gold, set with precious gems, the seats were\nof gold and the tables of silver, and two fair youths, whom I saw\nplaying chess, used pieces of gold on a board of silver. Their attire\nwas of black satin embroidered with gold, and golden circlets were on\ntheir brows. I gazed at the youths for a moment, and next became aware\nof an aged man sitting near them. His carved ivory seat was adorned\nwith golden eagles, the token of Imperial Rome; his ornaments on arms\nand hands and neck were of bright gold, and he was carving fresh\nchessmen from a rod of solid gold. Beside him sat, on a golden chair,\na maiden (the loveliest in the whole world she seemed, and still\nseems, to me). White was her inner dress under a golden overdress, her\ncrown of gold adorned with rubies and pearls, and a golden girdle\nencircled her slender waist. The beauty of her face won my love in\nthat moment, and I knelt and said: 'Hail, Empress of Rome!' but as she\nbent forward from her seat to greet me I awoke. Now I have no peace\nand no joy except in sleep, for in dreams I always see my lady, and in\ndreams we love each other and are happy; therefore in dreams will I\nlive, unless ye can find some way to satisfy my longing while I wake.\"\n\n[Illustration: The dream of the Emperor]\n\n\nThe Quest for the Maiden\n\nThe senators were at first greatly amazed, and then one of them said:\n\"My lord, will you not send out messengers to seek throughout all your\nlands for the maiden in the castle? Let each group of messengers\nsearch for one year, and return at the end of the year with\ntidings. So shall you live in good hope of success from year to year.\"\nThe messengers were sent out accordingly, with wands in their hands\nand a sleeve tied on each cap, in token of peace and of an embassy;\nbut though they searched with all diligence, after three years three\nseparate embassies had brought back no news of the mysterious land and\nthe beauteous maiden.\n\nThen the groom of the chamber said to Maxen Wledig: \"My lord, will you\nnot go forth to hunt, as on the day when you dreamt this enthralling\ndream?\" To this the emperor agreed, and rode to the place in the\nvalley where he had slept. \"Here,\" he said, \"my dream began, and I\nseemed to follow the river to its source.\" Then the groom of the\nchamber said: \"Will you not send messengers to the river's source, my\nlord, and bid them follow the track of your dream?\" Accordingly\nthirteen messengers were sent, who followed the river up until it\nissued from the highest mountain they had ever seen. \"Behold our\nemperor's dream!\" they exclaimed, and they ascended the mountain, and\ndescended the other side into a most beautiful and fertile plain, as\nMaxen Wledig had seen in his dream. Following the greatest river of\nall (probably the Rhine), the ambassadors reached the great seaport on\nthe North Sea, and found the fleet waiting with one vessel larger than\nall the others; and they entered the ship and were carried to the fair\nisland of Britain. Here they journeyed westward, and came to the\nmountainous land of Snowdon, whence they could see the sacred isle of\nMona (Anglesey) and the fertile land of Arvon lying between the\nmountains and the sea. \"This,\" said the messengers, \"is the land of\nour master's dream, and in yon fair castle we shall find the maiden\nwhom our emperor loves.\"\n\n\nThe Finding of the Maiden\n\nSo they went through the lovely land of Arvon to the castle of\nCaernarvon, and in that lordly fortress was the great hall, with the\ntwo youths playing chess, the venerable man carving chessmen, and the\nmaiden in her chair of gold. When the ambassadors saw the fair\nPrincess Helena they fell on their knees before her and said: \"Empress\nof Rome, all hail!\" But Helena half rose from her seat in anger as she\nsaid: \"What does this mockery mean? You seem to be men of gentle\nbreeding, and you wear the badge of messengers: whence comes it, then,\nthat ye mock me thus?\" But the ambassadors calmed her anger, saying:\n\"Be not wroth, lady: this is no mockery, for the Emperor of Rome, the\ngreat lord Maxen Wledig, has seen you in a dream, and he has sworn to\nwed none but you. Which, therefore, will you choose, to accompany us\nto Rome, and there be made empress, or to wait here until the emperor\ncan come to you?\" The princess thought deeply for a time, and then\nreplied: \"I would not be too credulous, or too hard of belief. If the\nemperor loves me and would wed me, let him find me in my father's\nhouse, and make me his bride in my own home.\"\n\n\nThe Dream Realized\n\nAfter this the thirteen envoys departed, and returned to the emperor\nin such haste that when their horses failed they gave no heed, but\ntook others and pressed on. When they reached Rome and informed Maxen\nWledig of the success of their mission he at once gathered his army\nand marched across Europe towards Britain. When the Roman emperor had\ncrossed the sea he conquered Britain from Beli the son of Manogan,\nand made his way to Arvon. On entering the castle he saw first the two\nyouths, Kynon and Adeon, playing chess, then their father, Eudav, the\nson of Caradoc, and then his beloved, the beauteous Helena, daughter\nof Eudav. \"Empress of Rome, all hail!\" Maxen Wledig said; and the\nprincess bent forward in her chair and kissed him, for she knew he was\nher destined husband. The next day they were wedded, and the Emperor\nMaxen Wledig gave Helena as dowry all Britain for her father, the son\nof the gallant Caradoc, and for herself three castles, Caernarvon,\nCaerlleon, and Caermarthen, where she dwelt in turn; and in one of\nthem was born her son Constantine, the only British-born Emperor of\nRome. To this day in Wales the old Roman roads that connected Helena's\nthree castles are known as \"Sarn Helen.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III: THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE AND ELENE\n\n\nThe Greatness of Constantine Provokes Attack\n\nIn the year 312, the sixth year after Constantine had become emperor,\nthe Roman Empire had increased on every hand, for Constantine was a\nmighty leader in war, a gracious and friendly lord in peace; he was a\ntrue king and ruler, a protector of all men. So mightily did he\nprosper that his enemies assembled great armies against him, and a\nconfederation to overthrow him was made by the terrible Huns, the\nfamous Goths, the brave Franks, and the warlike Hugas. This powerful\nconfederation sent against Constantine an overwhelming army of Huns,\nwhose numbers seemed to be countless, and yet the Hunnish leaders\nfeared, when they knew that the emperor himself led the small Roman\nhost.\n\n\nThe Eve of the Battle\n\nThe night before the battle Constantine lay sadly in the midst of his\narmy, watching the stars, and dreading the result of the next day's\nconflict; for his warriors were few compared with the Hunnish\nmultitude, and even Roman discipline and devotion might not win the\nday against the mad fury of the barbarous Huns. At last, wearied out,\nthe emperor slept, and a vision came to him in his sleep. He seemed to\nsee, standing by him, a beautiful shining form, a man more glorious\nthan the sons of men, who, as Constantine sprang up ready helmed for\nwar, addressed him by name. The darkness of night fled before the\nheavenly light that shone from the angel, and the messenger said:\n\n \"O Constantinus, the Ruler of Angels,\n The Lord of all glory, the Master of heaven's hosts,\n Claims from thee homage. Be not thou affrighted,\n Though armies of aliens array them for battle,\n Though terrible warriors threaten fierce conflict.\n Look thou to the sky, to the throne of His glory;\n There seest thou surely the symbol of conquest.\"\n\n _Elene._\n\n\nVision of the Cross\n\nConstantine looked up as the angel bade him, and saw, hovering in the\nair, a cross, splendid, glorious, adorned with gems and shining with\nheavenly light. On its wood letters were engraved, gleaming with\nunearthly radiance:\n\n \"With this shalt thou conquer the foe in the conflict,\n And with it shalt hurl back the host of the heathen.\"\n\n _Elene._\n\n\nConstantine is Cheered\n\nConstantine read these words with awe and gladness, for indeed he knew\nnot what deity had thus favoured him, but he would not reject the help\nof the Unknown God; so he bowed his head in reverence, and when he\nlooked again the cross and the angel had disappeared, and around him\nas he woke was the greyness of the rising dawn. The emperor summoned\nto his tent two soldiers from the troops, and bade them make a cross\nof wood to bear before the army. This they did, greatly marvelling,\nand Constantine called a standard-bearer, to whom he gave charge to\nbear forward the Standard of the Cross where the danger was greatest\nand the battle most fierce.\n\n\nThe Morning of Battle\n\nWhen the day broke, and the two armies could see each other, both\nhosts arrayed themselves for battle, in serried ranks of armed\nwarriors, shouting their war-cries.\n\n \"Loud sang the trumpets to stern-minded foemen\n The dewy-winged eagle watched them march onward,\n The horny-billed raven rejoiced in the battle-play,\n The sly wolf, the forest-thief, soon saw his heart's desire\n As the fierce warriors rushed at each other.\n Great was the shield-breaking, loud was the clamour,\n Hard were the hand-blows, and dire was the downfall,\n When first the heroes felt the keen arrow-shower.\n Soon did the Roman host fall on the death-doomed Huns,\n Thrust forth their deadly spears over the yellow shields,\n Broke with their battle-glaives breasts of the foemen.\"\n\n _Elene._\n\n\nThe Cross is Raised\n\nThen, when the battle was at its height, and the Romans knew not\nwhether they would conquer or die fighting to the last, the\nstandard-bearer raised the Cross, the token of promised victory,\nbefore all the host, and sang the chant of triumph. Onward he marched,\nand the Roman host followed him, pressing on resistless as the surging\nwaves. The Huns, bewildered by the strange rally, and dreading the\nmysterious sign of some mighty god, rolled back, at first slowly, and\nthen more and more quickly, till sullen retreat became panic rout, and\nthey broke and fled. Multitudes were cut down as they fled, other\nmultitudes were swept away by the devouring Danube as they tried to\ncross its current; some, half dead, reached the other side, and saved\ntheir lives in fortresses, guarding the steep cliffs beyond the\nDanube. Few, very few they were who ever saw their native land again.\n\nThere was great rejoicing in the Roman army and in the Roman camp when\nConstantine returned in triumph with the wondrous Cross borne before\nhim. He passed on to the city, and the people of Rome gazed with awe\non the token of the Unknown God who had saved their city, but none\nwould say who that God might be.\n\n\nA Council Summoned\n\nThe emperor summoned a great council of all the wisest men in Rome,\nand when all were met he raised the Standard of the Cross in the midst\nand said:\n\n \"Can any man tell me, by spells or by ancient lore,\n Who is the gracious God, giver of victory,\n Who came in His glory, with the Cross for His token,\n Who rescued my people and gave me the victory,\n Scattered my foemen and put the fierce Huns to flight,\n Showed me in heaven His sign of deliverance,\n The loveliest Cross of light, gleaming in glory?\"\n\n _Elene._\n\nAt first no man could give him any answer--perhaps none dared--till\nafter a long silence the wisest of all arose and said he had heard\nthat the Cross was the sign of Christ the King of Heaven, and that the\nknowledge of His way was only revealed to men in baptism. When strict\nsearch was made some Christians were found, who preached the way of\nlife to Constantine, and rejoiced that they might tell before men, of\nthe life and death, the Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus Christ,\nwho redeemed mankind from the bonds of evil; and then Constantine,\nbeing fully instructed and convinced, was baptized and became the\nfirst Christian emperor.\n\n\nConstantine Desires to Find our Saviour's Cross\n\nConstantine's heart, however, was too full of love for his new Lord to\nlet him rest satisfied without some visible token of Christ's sojourn\non earth. He longed to have, to keep for his own, one thing at least\nwhich Jesus had touched during His life, and his thoughts turned\nchiefly to that Cross which had been to himself both the sign of\ntriumph and the guide to the way of life. Thus he again called\ntogether his Christian teachers, and inquired more closely where\nChrist had suffered.\n\n\"In Judaea, outside the walls of Jerusalem, He died on the Cross,\" they\ntold him.\n\n\"Then there, near that city, so blest and so curst, we must seek His\nprecious Cross,\" cried Constantine.\n\n\nSummons his Mother Elene\n\nForthwith he summoned from Britain his mother the British Princess\nElene, and when she had been taught the truth, had been converted and\nbaptized, he told her of his heart's desire, and begged her to journey\nto Jerusalem and seek the sacred Cross.\n\nElene herself, when she heard Constantine's words, was filled with\nwonder, and said: \"Dear son, thy words have greatly rejoiced my heart,\nfor know that I, too, have seen a vision, and would gladly seek the\nHoly Cross, where it lies hidden from the eyes of men.\"\n\n\nElene's Vision\n\n \"Now will I tell thee the brightest of visions,\n Dreamt at the midnight when men lay in slumber.\n Hovering in heaven saw I a radiant Cross,\n Gloriously gold-adorned, shining in splendour;\n Starry gems shone on it at the four corners,\n Flashed from the shoulder-span five gleaming jewels.\n Angels surrounded it, guarding it gladly.\n Yet in its loveliness sad was that Cross to see,\n For 'neath the gold and gems fast blood flowed from it,\n Till it was all defiled with the dark drops.\"\n\n _Dream of the Rood._\n\nIn this dream of Elene's the Cross spoke to her, and told her of the\nsad fate which had made of that hapless tree the Cross on which the\nRedeemer of mankind had released the souls of men from evil, on which\nHe had spread out His arms to embrace mankind, had bowed His head,\nweary with the strife, and had given up His soul. All creation wept\nthat hour, for Christ was on the Cross.\n\n \"Yet His friends came to him, left not His corpse alone,\n Took down the Mighty King from His sharp sufferings--\n Humbly I bowed myself down to the hands of men.\n Sadly they laid Him down in His dark rock-hewn grave,\n Sadly they sang for Him dirges for death-doomed ones,\n Sadly they left Him there as His fair corpse grew cold.\n We, the three Crosses, stood mournful in loneliness,\n Till evil-thinking men felled us all three to ground,\n Sank us deep into earth, sealed us from sight of man.\"\n\n _Dream of the Rood._\n\n\nShe Undertakes the Quest\n\nAs Constantine had been guided by the heavenly vision of the True\nCross, so now Elene would journey to the land of the Jews and find the\nreality of that Holy Cross. Her will and that of her son were one in\nthis matter, so that before long the whole city resounded with the\nbustle and clamour of preparation, for Elene was to travel with the\npomp and retinue befitting the mother of the Emperor of Rome.\n\n \"There by the Wendel Sea stood the wave-horses.\n Proudly the plunging ships sought out the ocean path.\n Line followed after line of the tall brine-ploughs.\n Forth went the water-steeds o'er the sea-serpent's road\n Bright shields on the bulwarks oft broke the foaming surge.\n Ne'er saw I lady lead such a fair following!\"\n\n _Elene._\n\n\nShe Comes to Judaea\n\nQueen Elene had a prosperous voyage, and, after touching at the land\nof the Greeks, reached in due time the country of Judaea, and so, with\ngood hope came to Jerusalem. There, in the emperor's name, she\nsummoned to an assembly all the oldest and wisest Jews, a congregation\nof a thousand venerable rabbis, learned in all the books of the Law\nand the Prophets and proud that they were the Chosen People in a world\nof heathens, aliens from the True God. These she addressed at first\nwith a blending of flattery and reproach--flattery for the Chosen\nPeople, reproach for their perversity of wickedness--and, finally,\nperemptorily demanded an answer to any question she might ask of them.\nThe Jews withdrew and deliberated sadly whether they durst refuse the\nrequest of so mighty a person as the emperor's mother, and, deciding\nthat they durst not, returned to the hall where Elene sat in splendour\non her throne and announced their readiness to reply to all her\nquestions. Elene, however, bade them first lessen their numbers. They\nchose five hundred to reply for them, and on these she poured such\nbitter reproaches that they at last exclaimed:\n\n \"Lady, we learnt of yore laws of the Hebrew folk\n Which all our fathers learnt from the true ark of God.\n Lady, we know not now why thou thus blamest us;\n How has the Jewish race done grievous wrong to thee?\"\n\n _Elene._\n\n\nShe Cross-questions the Rabbis\n\nElene only replied: \"Go ye away, and choose out from among these five\nhundred those whose wisdom is great enough to show them without delay\nthe answer to all things I require\"; and again they left her presence.\nWhen they were alone, one of them, named Judas, said \"I know what\nthis queen requires: she will demand to know from us where the Cross\nis concealed on which the Lord of the Christians was crucified; but if\nwe tell this secret I know well that the Jews will cease to bear rule\non the earth, and our holy scriptures will be forgotten. For my\ngrandfather Zacchaeus, as he lay dying, bade me confess the truth if\never man should inquire concerning the Holy Tree; and when I asked how\nour nation had failed to recognise the Holy and Just One, he told me\nthat he had always withdrawn himself from the evil deeds of his\ngeneration, and their leaders had been blinded by their own\nunrighteousness, and had slain the Lord of Glory. And he ended:\n\n \"'Thus I and my father secretly held the Faith.\n Now warn I thee, my son, speak not thou mockingly\n Of the true Son of God reigning in glory:\n For whom my Stephen died, and the Apostle Paul.'\n\n _Elene._\n\n\"Now,\" said Judas, \"since things are so, decide ye what we shall\nreveal, or what conceal, if this queen asks us.\"\n\n\nOne Appointed to Answer her\n\nThe other elders replied: \"Do what seems to thee best, since thou\nalone knowest this. Never have we heard of these strange secrets. Do\nthou according to thy great wisdom.\"\n\nWhile they still deliberated came the heralds with silver trumpets,\nwhich they blew, proclaiming aloud:\n\n \"The mighty Queen calls you, O men, to the Council,\n That she may hear from you of your decision.\n Great is the need ye have of all your wisdom.\"\n\n _Elene._\n\nSlowly and reluctantly the Jewish rabbis returned to the\ncouncil-chamber, and listened to Elene as she plied them with\nquestions about the ancient prophecies and the death of Christ; but to\nall her inquiries they professed entire ignorance, until, in her\nwrath, the queen threatened them with death by fire. Then they led\nforward Judas, saying: \"He can reveal the mysteries of Fate, for he is\nof noble race, the son of a prophet. He will tell thee truth, O Queen,\nas thy soul loveth.\" Thus Elene let the other Jews go in peace, and\ntook Judas for a hostage.\n\n\nShe Threatens him\n\nNow Elene greeted Judas and said:\n\n \"Lo, thou perverse one, two things lie before thee,\n Or death or life for thee: choose which thou wilt.\"\n\n _Elene._\n\nJudas replied to her, since he could not escape:\n\n \"If the starved wanderer lost on the barren moors\n Sees both a stone and bread, easily in his reach,\n Which, O Queen, thinkest thou he will reject?\"\n\n _Elene._\n\nThereupon Elene said: \"If thou wouldst dwell in heaven with the\nangels, reveal to me where the True Cross lies hidden.\" Now Judas was\nvery sad, for his choice lay between death and the revealing of the\nfateful secret, but he still tried to evade giving an answer,\nprotesting that too long a time had passed for the secret to be known.\nElene retorted that the Trojan War was a still more ancient story, and\nyet was still well known; but Judas replied that men are bound to\nremember the valiant deeds of nations; he himself had never even heard\nthe story of which she spoke. This obstinacy angered the queen\ngreatly, and she demanded to be taken at once to the hill of Calvary,\nthat she might purify it, for the sake of Him who died there; but\nJudas only repeated:\n\n \"I know not the place, nor aught of that field.\"\n\n _Elene._\n\nQueen Elene was yet more enraged by his stubborn denials, and\ndetermined to obtain by force an answer to her questions. Calling her\nservants, she bade them thrust Judas into a deep dry cistern, where he\nlay, starving, bound hand and foot, for seven nights and days. On the\nseventh day his stubborn spirit yielded, and Judas lifted up his voice\nand called aloud, saying:\n\n \"Now I beseech you all by the great God of heaven\n That you will lift me up out of this misery.\n I will tell all I know of that True Holy Cross,\n Now I no longer can hide it for heavy pain.\n Hunger has daunted me through all these dreary days.\n Foolish was I of yore; late I confess it.\"\n\n _Elene._\n\n\nHe Guides her to Calvary\n\nThe message was brought to Elene where she waited to hear tidings, and\nshe bade her servants lift the weakened Judas from the dark pit; then\nthey led him, half dead with hunger, out of the city to the hill of\nCalvary. There Judas prayed to the God whom he now feared and\nworshipped for a sign, some token to guide them in their search for\nthe Holy Cross. As he prayed a sweet-smelling vapour, curling upwards\nlike the incense-wreaths around the altar, rose to the skies from the\nsummit of the hill. The sign was manifest to all, and Judas gave\nthanks to God for His great mercy; then, bidding the wondering\nsoldiers help him, he began to dig. By this time all men knew what\nthey sought, and each wished to uncover the holy relic, so that all\ndug with great zeal, until, under twenty feet of earth, they\nuncovered three crosses, so well preserved that they lay in the earth\njust as the Jews had hidden them.\n\n\nThree Crosses Found\n\nJudas and all rejoiced greatly at this marvel, and, reverently raising\nthe three crosses, they bore them into the city, and laid them at the\nfeet of Queen Elene, whose first rapture of joy was speedily turned to\nperplexity as she realised that she knew not which was that sacred\nCross on which the King of Angels had suffered. \"For,\" she said, \"two\nthieves were crucified with him.\" But even Judas could not clear her\ndoubts.\n\n \"Lo we have heard of this from all the holy books,\n That there were with him two in His deep anguish.\n They hung in death by Him; He was Himself the third.\n Heaven was all darkened o'er at that dread moment.\n Say, if thou rightly canst, which of these crosses\n Is that blest Tree of Fate which bore the Heaven's King.\"\n\n _Elene._\n\n[Illustration: The Queen's dilemma]\n\n\nA Miracle to Reveal our Saviour's Cross\n\nJudas, however, suggested that the crosses should be carried to the\nmidst of the city, and that they should pray for another miracle to\nreveal the truth. This was done at dawn, and the triumphant band of\nChristians raised hymns of prayer and praise until the ninth hour;\nthen came a mighty crowd bearing a young man lifeless on his bier. At\nJudas's command they laid down the bier, and he, praying to God,\nsolemnly raised in turn each of the crosses and held it above the dead\nman's head. Lifeless still he lay as Judas raised the first two, but\nwhen he held above the corpse the third, the True Cross, the dead man\narose instantly, body and soul reunited, one in praising God, and the\nwhole multitude broke out into shouts of thanksgiving to the Lord\nof Hosts, and the sacred relic was restored to the loving care of the\nqueen.\n\n\nThe Nails Sought for\n\nNevertheless Elene's longing was still unsatisfied. She called Judas\n(whose new name in baptism was Cyriacus) and begged him to fulfil her\ndesires, and to pray to God that she might find the nails which had\npierced the Lord of Life, where they lay hidden from men in the ground\nof Calvary. Leading her out of the town, Cyriacus again prayed on\nMount Calvary that God would send forth a token and reveal the secret.\nAs he prayed there came from heaven a leaping flame, brighter than the\nsun, which touched the surface of the ground here and there, and\nkindled in each place a tiny star. When they dug at the spots where\nthe stars shone they found each nail shining visibly and casting a\nradiance of its own in the dark earth. So Elene had obtained her\nheart's desire, and had now the True Cross and the Holy Nails.\n\n\nGood News Brought to Constantine\n\nWord of his mother's success was sent to the Emperor Constantine, and\nhe was asked what should be done with these glorious relics. He bade\nElene build in Jerusalem a glorious church, and make therein a\nbeautiful shrine of silver, where the Holy Cross should be guarded for\nall generations by priests who should watch it day and night. This was\ndone, but the nails were still Elene's possession, and she was at a\nloss how to preserve these holy relics, when the devout Cyriacus, now\nordained Bishop of Jerusalem, went to her and said: \"O lady and queen,\ntake these precious nails for thy son the emperor. Make with them\nrings for his horse's bridle. Victory shall ever go with them; they\nshall be called Holy to God, and he shall be called blessed whom that\nhorse bears.\" The advice pleased the queen, and she had wrought a\nglorious bridle, adorned with the Holy Nails, and sent it to her son.\nConstantine received it with all reverence, and ordained that April\n24, the day of the miracle of revelation, should henceforth be kept in\nhonour as \"Holy Cross Day.\" Thus were the Emperor's zeal and the royal\nmother's devotion rewarded, and Christendom was enriched by some of\nits most precious treasures, the True Cross and the Holy Nails.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV: THE COMPASSION OF CONSTANTINE\n\n\nYouth of Constantine\n\nConstantine the Great was the eldest son of the Roman Emperor\nConstantius and the British Princess Helena, or Elena, and was brought\nup as a devout worshipper of the many gods of Rome. The lad grew up\nstrong and handsome, of a tall and majestic figure, skilled in all\nwarlike exercises, and, as he fought in the civil wars between the\nvarious Roman emperors, he showed himself a bold and prudent general\nin battle, a friendly and popular leader in time of peace. The\npopularity of the youthful Constantine was dangerous to him, and he\nneeded, and showed, great skill in evading the deadly jealousy of the\nold Emperor Diocletian, and the hatred of his father's rival,\nGalerius. At last, however, his position became so dangerous that\nConstantius felt his son's life was no longer safe, and earnestly\nbegged him to visit his native land of Britain, where Constantius had\njust been proclaimed emperor and had defeated the wild Caledonians.\nThe excuse given was that Constantius was in bad health and needed his\nson; but not until the young man was actually in Britain would his\nanxious father avow that he feared for his son's life.\n\n\nAcclaimed Emperor\n\nWhen the half-British Constantius died, Constantine, who was the\nfavourite of the Roman soldiery of the west, was at once acclaimed as\nemperor by his devoted troops. He professed unwillingness to accept\nthe honour, and it is said that he even tried in vain to escape on\nhorseback from the affectionate solicitations of his soldiers. Seeing\nthe uselessness of further protest, Constantine accepted the imperial\ntitle, and wrote to Galerius claiming the throne and justifying his\nacceptance of the unsought dignity thrust upon him. Galerius\nacquiesced in the inevitable, and granted Constantine the inferior\ntitle of \"Caesar,\" with rule over Western Europe, and the wise prince\nwas content to wait until favouring circumstances should destroy his\nrivals and give him that sole sway over the Roman Empire for which he\nwas so well fitted. He had now reached the age of thirty, had fought\nvaliantly in the wars in Egypt and Persia, and had risen by merit to\nthe rank of tribune. His marriage with Fausta, the daughter of the\nEmperor Maximian, and his elevation to the rank of Augustus brought\nhim nearer to the attainment of his ambition; and at length the defeat\nand death of his rivals placed him at the head of the world-wide\nempire of Rome. It is to some period previous to Constantine's\nelevation to the supreme authority that we must refer the following\nstory, told by Gower in his \"Confessio Amantis\" as an example of that\ntrue charity which is the mother of pity, and makes a man's heart so\ntender that,\n\n \"Though he might himself relieve,\n Yet he would not another grieve,\"\n\nbut in order to give pleasure to others would bear his own trouble\nalone.\n\n\nBecomes a Leper\n\nThe noble Constantine, Emperor of Rome, was in the full flower of his\nage, goodly to look upon, strong and happy, when a great and sudden\naffliction came upon him: leprosy attacked him. The horrible disease\nshowed itself first in his face, so that no concealment was possible,\nand if he had not been the emperor he would have been driven out to\nlive in the forests and wilds. The leprosy spread from his face till\nit entirely covered his body, and became so bad that he could no\nlonger ride out or show himself to his people. When all cures had been\ntried and had failed, Constantine withdrew himself from his lords,\ngave up all use of arms, abandoned his imperial duties, and shut\nhimself in his palace, where he lived such a secluded life in his own\napartments that Rome had, as it were, no lord, and all men throughout\nthe empire talked of his illness and prayed their gods to heal him.\nWhen everything seemed to be in vain, Constantine yielded to the\nprayer of his council, that he would summon all the doctors, learned\nmen, and physicians from every realm to Rome, that they might consider\nhis illness and try if any cure could be found for his malady.\n\n\nRewards Offered for his Cure\n\nA proclamation went forth throughout the world and great rewards were\noffered to any man who should heal the emperor. Tempted by the rewards\nand the great fame to be won, there came leeches and physicians from\nPersia and Arabia, and from every land that owned the sway of Rome,\nphilosophers from Greece and Egypt, and magicians and sorcerers from\nthe unexplored desert of the east. But, though Constantine tried all\nthe remedies suggested or recommended by the wise men, his leprosy\ngrew no better, but rather worse, and even magic could give him no\nhelp.\n\nAgain the learned men assembled and consulted what they should advise,\nfor all were loath to abandon the emperor in his great distress, but\nthey were all at a loss. They sat in silence, till at last one very\nold and very wise man, a great physician from Arabia, arose and said:\n\n\nA Desperate Remedy\n\n\"Now that all else has failed, and naught is of any avail, I will tell\nof a remedy of which I have heard. It will, I believe, certainly cure\nour beloved emperor, but it is very terrible, and therefore I was\nloath to name it till every other means had been tried and failed, for\nit is a cruel thing for any man to do. Let the Emperor dip himself in\na full bath of the blood of infants and children, seven years old or\nunder, and he shall be healed, and his leprosy shall fall from him;\nfor this malady is not natural to his body, and it demands an\nunnatural cure.\"\n\n\nConstantine Assents Regretfully\n\nThe proposal was a terrible one to the assembly, and many would not\nagree to it at first, but when they considered that nothing else would\nheal the emperor they at length gave way, and sent two from among\nthemselves to bring the news to Constantine, who was waiting for them\nin his darkened room. He was horrified when he heard the counsel they\nbrought, and at first utterly refused to carry out so evil a plan; but\nbecause his life was very dear to his people, and because he felt that\nhe had a great work to do in the world, he ultimately agreed, with\nmany tears, to try the terrible remedy.\n\n\nA Cruel Proclamation\n\nThereupon the council drew up letters, under the emperor's hand and\nseal, and sent them out to all the world, bidding all mothers with\nchildren of seven years of age or under to bring them with speed to\nRome, that there the blood of the innocents might prove healing to the\nemperor's malady. Alas! what weeping and wailing there was among the\nmothers when they heard this cruel decree! How they cried, and clasped\ntheir babes to their breasts, and how they called Constantine more\ncruel than Herod, who killed the Holy Innocents! The eastern ruler,\nthey said, slew only the infants of one poor village, but their\nemperor, more ruthless, claimed the lives of all the young children of\nhis whole empire.\n\n\nConstantine is Conscience-stricken\n\nBut though the mothers lamented bitterly, they must needs bow to the\nemperor's decree, whether they were lief or loath, and thus a great\nmultitude gathered in the great courtyard of the imperial palace at\nRome: women nursing sucking-babes at the breast, or holding toddling\ninfants by the hand, or with little children running by their sides,\nand all so heart-broken and woebegone that many swooned for very\ngrief. The mothers wailed aloud, the children cried, and the tumult\ngrew until Constantine heard it, where he sat lonely and wretched in\nhis darkened room. He looked out of his window on the mournful sight\nin the courtyard, and was roused as from a trance, saying to himself:\n\"O Divine Providence, who hast formed all men alike, lo! the poor man\nis born, lives, suffers, and dies, just as does the rich; to wise man\nand fool alike come sickness and health; and no man may avoid that\nfortune which Nature's law hath ordained for him. Likewise to all men\nare Nature's gifts of strength and beauty, of soul and reason, freely\nand fully given, so that the poor child is born as capable of virtue\nas the king's son; and to each man is given free will to choose virtue\nor vice. Yet thou givest to men diversity of rank, wealth or poverty,\nlordship or servitude, not always according to their deserts; so much\nthe more virtuous should that man be to whom thou hast put other men\nin subjection, men who are nevertheless his fellows and wear his\nlikeness. Thou, O God, who hast put Nature and the whole universe\nunder law, wouldst have all men rule themselves by law, and thou hast\nsaid that a man must do to others such things as he would have done to\nhimself.\"\n\n\nHis Noble Resolve\n\nThus Constantine spoke within himself as he stood by the window and\nlooked upon the weeping mothers and children, the very sentinels of\nhis palace pitying them, and trying in vain to comfort them; and a\nstrife grew strong within him between his natural longing for healing\nand deliverance from this loathsome disease which had darkened his\nlife, and the pity he felt for these poor creatures, and his horror at\nthe thought of so much human blood to be shed for himself alone. The\ngreat moaning of the woeful mothers came to him and the pitiful crying\nof the children, and he thought: \"What am I that my health is to\noutweigh the lives and happiness of so many of my people? Is my life\nof more value to the world than those of all the children who must\nshed their blood for my healing? Surely each babe is as precious as\nConstantine the Emperor!\" Thus his heart grew so tender and so full of\ncompassion that he chose rather to die by this terrible sickness than\nto commit so great a slaughter of innocent children, and he renounced\nall other physicians, and trusted himself wholly to God's care.\n\n\nHe Announces his Determination\n\nHe at once summoned his council, and announced to them his resolution,\ngiving as his reason, \"He that will be truly master must be ever\nservant to pity!\" and without delay the anxious mothers were told\nthat their children were free and safe, for the emperor had renounced\nthe cure, and needed their blood no longer. What raptures of rejoicing\nthere were, what outpouring of blessing on the emperor, what songs of\npraise and thanks from the women wild with joy, cannot be fully told;\nand yet greater grew their joy and thankfulness when Constantine,\ncalling his high officials, bade them take all his gathered treasures\nand distribute them among the poor women, that they might feed and\nclothe their children, and so return home untouched by any loss, and\nrecompensed in some degree for their sufferings. Thus did Constantine\nobey the behests of pity, and try to atone for the wrong to which he\nhad consented in his heart, and which he had so nearly done to his\npeople.\n\n\nThe Victims Sent Home Happy\n\nHome to all parts of the Roman Empire went the women, bearing with\nthem their happy children, and the rich gifts they had received. Each\none thanked and blessed the emperor, and sang his praises, where\nbefore she had passed with tears and bitter curses on his head; each\nwoman shared her joy with her neighbours; and the very children learnt\nfrom their mothers and fathers to pray for the healing of their great\nlord, who had given up his own will and sacrificed his own cure for\ngentle pity's sake. Thus the whole world prayed for Constantine's\nhealing.\n\n\nA Vision\n\nLo! it never yet was known that charity went unrequited and this\nConstantine now learnt in his own glad experience; for that same\nnight, as he lay asleep, God sent to him a vision of two strangers,\nmen of noble face and form, whom he reverenced greatly, and who said\nto him: \"O Constantine, because thou hast obeyed the voice of pity,\nthou hast deserved pity; therefore shalt thou find such mercy, that\nGod, in His great pity, will save thee. Double healing shalt thou\nreceive, first for thy body, and next for thy woeful soul; both alike\nshall be made whole. And that thou mayst not despair, God will grant\nthee a sign--thy leprosy shall not increase till thou hast sent to\nMount Celion, to Sylvester and all his clergy. There they dwell in\nsecret for dread of thee, who hast been a foe to the law of Christ,\nand hast destroyed those who preach in His Holy Name. Now thou hast\nappeased God somewhat by thy good deed, since thou hast had pity on\nthe innocent blood, and hast spared it; for this thou shalt find\nteaching, from Sylvester, to the salvation of both body and soul. Thou\nwilt need no other leech.\" The emperor, who had listened with\neagerness and awe, now spoke: \"Great thanks I owe to you, my lords,\nand I will indeed do as ye have said; but one thing I would pray\nyou--what shall I tell Sylvester of the name or estate of those who\nsend me to him?\" The two strangers said: \"We are the Apostles Peter\nand Paul, who endured death here in thy city of Rome for the Holy Name\nof Christ, and we bid Sylvester teach and baptize thee into the true\nfaith. So shall the Roman Empire become the kingdom of the Lord and of\nHis Christ.\" So saying, they blessed him, and passed into the heavens\nout of his sight, and Constantine awoke from his slumber and knew that\nhe had seen a vision. He called aloud eagerly, and his servants\nwaiting in an outer room ran in to him quickly, for there was urgency\nin his voice. To them Constantine told his vision and the command\nwhich was laid upon him.\n\n\nSylvester Summoned\n\nMessengers rode in hot haste to Mount Celion, and inquired long and\nanxiously for Sylvester. At last they found him, a holy and venerable\nman, and summoned him, saying: \"The Emperor calls for thee: come,\ntherefore, at once.\" Sylvester's clergy were greatly affrighted, not\nknowing what this summons might mean, and dreading the death of their\ndear bishop and master; but he went forth gladly, not knowing to what\nfate he was going. When he was brought to the palace the emperor\ngreeted him kindly, and told him all his dream, and the command of the\nApostles Peter and Paul, and ended with these words: \"Now I have done\nas the vision bade, and have fetched thee here: tell me, I pray, the\nglad tidings which shall bring healing to my body and soul.\" When\nSylvester heard this speech he was filled with joy and wonder, and\nthanked God for the vision He had sent to the emperor, and then he\nbegan to preach to him the Christian faith: he told of the Fall of\nMan, and the redemption of the world by the death and resurrection of\nJesus Christ, of the Ascension of Jesus and His return at the Day of\nJudgment, of the justice of God, who will judge all men impartially\naccording to their works, good or bad, and of the life of joy or\nmisery to come. As Sylvester taught, the monarch listened and\nbelieved, and, when the tale was ended, announced his conversion to\nthe true faith, and said he was ready, with his whole heart and soul,\nto be baptized.\n\n\nConstantine Baptized\n\nAt the emperor's command, they took the great vessel of silver which\nhad been made for the children's blood, and Sylvester bade them fill\nit with pure water from the well. When that was done with all haste,\nhe bade Constantine stand therein, so that the water reached his chin.\nAs the holy rite began a great light like the sun's rays shone from\nheaven into the place, and upon Constantine; and as the sacred words\nwere being read there fell now and again from his body scales like\nthose of a fish, till there was nothing left of his horrible disease;\nand thus in baptism Constantine was purified in body and soul.\n\n[Illustration: They filled the great vessel of silver with pure water]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V: HAVELOK THE DANE\n\n\nThe Origin of the Story\n\nThe Danish occupation of England has left a very strong mark on our\ncountry in various ways--on its place-names, its racial\ncharacteristics, its language, its literature, and, in part, on its\nideals. The legend of Havelok the Dane, with its popularity and\nwidespread influence, is one result of Danish supremacy. It is thought\nthat the origin of the legend, which contains a twofold version of the\ncommon story of the cruel guardian and the persecuted heir, is to be\nfound in Wales; but, however that may be, it is certain that in the\ncontinual rise and fall of small tribal kingdoms, Celtic or Teutonic,\nEnglish or Danish, the circumstances out of which the story grew must\nhave been common enough. Kings who died leaving helpless heirs to the\nguardianship of ambitious and wicked nobles were not rare in the early\ndays of Britain, Wales, or Denmark; the murder of the heir and the\nusurpation of the kingdom by the cruel regent were no unusual\noccurrences. The opportunity of localising the early legend seems to\nhave come with the growing fame of Anlaf, or Olaf, Sihtricson, who was\nknown to the Welsh as Abloec or Habloc. His adventurous life included\na threefold expulsion from his inheritance of Northumbria, a marriage\nwith the daughter of King Constantine III. of Scotland, and a family\nkinship with King Athelstan of England. In Anlaf Curan (as he was\ncalled) we have an historical hero on whom various romantic stories\nwere gradually fathered, because of his adventurous life and his\nstrong personality. These stories finally crystallized in a form which\nshows the English and Danish love of physical prowess (Havelok is the\nstrongest man in the kingdom), as well as a certain cruelty of\nrevenge which is more peculiarly Danish. There is resentment of the\nNorman predominance to be found in the popularity of a story which\nshows the kitchen-boy excelling all the nobles in manly exercises, and\nthe heiress to the kingdom wedded in scorn, as so many Saxon heiresses\nwere after the Conquest, to a mere scullion. There can be no doubt,\nhowever, that Havelok stood to mediaeval England as a hero of the\nstrong arm, a champion of the populace against the ruling race, and\nthat his royal birth and dignity were a concession to historic facts\nand probabilities, not much regarded by the common people. The story,\nagain, showed another truly humble hero, Grim the fisher, whose\nloyalty was supposed to account for the special trading privileges of\nhis town, Grimsby. In Grim the story found a character who was in\nreality a hero of the poor and lowly, with the characteristic devotion\nof the tribesman to his chief, of the vassal to his lord, a devotion\nwhich was handed on from father to son, so that a second generation\ncontinued the services, and received the rewards, of the father who\nrisked life and all for the sake of his king's heir.\n\nThe reader will not fail to notice the characteristic anachronisms\nwhich give to life in Saxon England in the tenth century the colour of\nthe Norman chivalry of the thirteenth.\n\n\nHavelok and Godard\n\nIn Denmark, long ago, lived a good king named Birkabeyn, rich and\npowerful, a great warrior and a man of mighty prowess, whose rule was\nundisputed over the whole realm. He had three children--two daughters,\nnamed Swanborow and Elfleda the Fair, and one young and goodly son,\nHavelok, the heir to all his dominions. All too soon came the day\nthat no man can avoid, when Death would call King Birkabeyn away, and\nhe grieved sore over his young children to be left fatherless and\nunprotected; but, after much reflection, and prayers to God for wisdom\nto help his choice, he called to him Jarl Godard, a trusted counsellor\nand friend, and committed into his hands the care of the realm and of\nthe three royal children, until Havelok should be of age to be\nknighted and rule the land himself. King Birkabeyn felt that such a\ncharge was too great a temptation for any man unbound by oaths of\nfealty and honour, and although he did not distrust his friend, he\nrequired Godard to swear,\n\n \"By altar and by holy service book,\n By bells that call the faithful to the church,\n By blessed sacrament, and sacred rites,\n By Holy Rood, and Him who died thereon,\n That thou wilt truly rule and keep my realm,\n Wilt guard my babes in love and loyalty,\n Until my son be grown, and dubbed knight:\n That thou wilt then resign to him his land,\n His power and rule, and all that owns his sway.\"\n\nJarl Godard took this most solemn oath at once with many protestations\nof affection and whole-hearted devotion to the dying king and his\nheir, and King Birkabeyn died happy in the thought that his children\nwould be well cared for during their helpless youth.\n\nWhen the funeral rites were celebrated Jarl Godard assumed the rule of\nthe country, and, under pretext of securing the safety of the royal\nchildren, removed them to a strong castle, where no man was allowed\naccess to them, and where they were kept so closely that the royal\nresidence became a prison in all but name. Godard, finding Denmark\nsubmit to his government without resistance, began to adopt measures\nto rid himself of the real heirs to the throne, and gave orders that\nfood and clothes should be supplied to the three children in such\nscanty quantities that they might die of hardship; but since they were\nslow to succumb to this cruel, torturing form of murder, he resolved\nto slay them suddenly, knowing that no one durst call him to account.\nHaving steeled his heart against all pitiful thoughts, he went to the\ncastle, and was taken to the inner dungeon where the poor babes lay\nshivering and weeping for cold and hunger. As he entered, Havelok, who\nwas even then a bold lad, greeted him courteously, and knelt before\nhim, with clasped hands, begging a boon.\n\n\"Why do you weep and wail so sore?\" asked Godard.\n\n\"Because we are so hungry,\" answered Havelok. \"We have so little food,\nand we have no servants to wait on us; they do not give us half as\nmuch as we could eat; we are shivering with cold, and our clothes are\nall in rags. Woe to us that we were ever born! Is there in the land no\nmore corn with which men can make bread for us? We are nearly dead\nfrom hunger.\"\n\nThese pathetic words had no effect on Godard, who had resolved to\nyield to no pity and show no mercy. He seized the two little girls as\nthey lay cowering together, clasping one another for warmth, and cut\ntheir throats, letting the bodies of the hapless babies fall to the\nfloor in a pool of blood; and then, turning to Havelok, aimed his\nknife at the boy's heart. The poor child, terrified by the awful fate\nof the two girls, knelt again before him and begged for mercy:\n\n \"Fair lord, have mercy on me now, I pray!\n Look on my helpless youth, and pity me!\n Oh, let me live, and I will yield you all--\n My realm of Denmark will I leave to you,\n And swear that I will ne'er assail your sway.\n Oh, pity me, lord! be compassionate!\n And I will flee far from this land of mine,\n And vow that Birkabeyn was ne'er my sire!\"\n\nJarl Godard was touched by Havelok's piteous speech, and felt some\nfaint compassion, so that he could not slay the lad himself; yet he\nknew that his only safety was in Havelok's death.\n\n\"If I let him go,\" thought he, \"Havelok will at last work me woe! I\nshall have no peace in my life, and my children after me will not hold\nthe lordship of Denmark in safety, if Havelok escapes! Yet I cannot\nslay him with my own hands. I will have him cast into the sea with an\nanchor about his neck: thus at least his body will not float.\"\n\nGodard left Havelok kneeling in terror, and, striding from the tower,\nleaving the door locked behind him, he sent for an ignorant fisherman,\nGrim, who, he thought, could be frightened into doing his will. When\nGrim came he was led into an ante-room, where Godard, with terrible\nlook and voice, addressed him thus:\n\n\"Grim, thou knowest thou art my thrall.\" \"Yea, fair lord,\" quoth Grim,\ntrembling at Godard's stern voice. \"And I can slay thee if thou dost\ndisobey me.\" \"Yea, lord; but how have I offended you?\" \"Thou hast not\nyet; but I have a task for thee, and if thou dost it not, dire\npunishment shall fall upon thee.\" \"Lord, what is the work that I must\ndo?\" asked the poor fisherman. \"Tarry: I will show thee.\" Then Godard\nwent into the inner room of the tower, whence he returned leading a\nfair boy, who wept bitterly. \"Take this boy secretly to thy house, and\nkeep him there till dead of night; then launch thy boat, row out to\nsea, and fling him therein with an anchor round his neck, so that I\nshall see him never again.\"\n\nGrim looked curiously at the weeping boy, and said: \"What reward\nshall I have if I work this sin for you?\"\n\nGodard replied: \"The sin will be on my head as I am thy lord and bid\nthee do it; but I will make thee a freeman, noble and rich, and my\nfriend, if thou wilt do this secretly and discreetly.\"\n\nThus reassured and bribed, Grim suddenly took the boy, flung him to\nthe ground, and bound him hand and foot with cord which he took from\nhis pockets. So anxious was he to secure the boy that he drew the\ncords very tight, and Havelok suffered terrible pain; he could not cry\nout, for a handful of rags was thrust into his mouth and over his\nnostrils, so that he could hardly breathe. Then Grim flung the poor\nboy into a horrible black sack, and carried him thus from the castle,\nas if he were bringing home broken food for his family. When Grim\nreached his poor cottage, where his wife Leve was waiting for him, he\nslung the sack from his shoulder and gave it to her, saying, \"Take\ngood care of this boy as of thy life. I am to drown him at midnight,\nand if I do so my lord has promised to make me a free man and give me\ngreat wealth.\"\n\nWhen Dame Leve heard this she sprang up and flung the lad down in a\ncorner, and nearly broke his head with the crash against the earthen\nfloor. There Havelok lay, bruised and aching, while the couple went to\nsleep, leaving the room all dark but for the red glow from the fire.\nAt midnight Grim awoke to do his lord's behest, and Dame Leve, going\nto the living-room to kindle a light, was terrified by a mysterious\ngleam as bright as day which shone around the boy on the floor and\nstreamed from his mouth. Leve hastily called Grim to see this wonder,\nand together they released Havelok from the gag and bonds and\nexamined his body, when they found on the right shoulder the token of\ntrue royalty, a cross of red gold.\n\n\"God knows,\" quoth Grim, \"that this is the heir of our land. He will\ncome to rule in good time, will bear sway over England and Denmark,\nand will punish the cruel Godard.\" Then, weeping sore, the loyal\nfisherman fell down at Havelok's feet, crying, \"Lord, have mercy on me\nand my wife! We are thy thralls, and never will we do aught against\nthee. We will nourish thee until thou canst rule, and will hide thee\nfrom Godard; and thou wilt perchance give me my freedom in return for\nthy life.\"\n\nAt this unexpected address Havelok sat up surprised, and rubbed his\nbruised head and said: \"I am nearly dead, what with hunger, and thy\ncruel bonds, and the gag. Now bring me food in plenty!\" \"Yea, lord,\"\nsaid Dame Leve, and bustled about, bringing the best they had in the\nhut; and Havelok ate as if he had fasted for three days; and then he\nwas put to bed, and slept in peace while Grim watched over him.\n\n[Illustration: \"Havelok sat up surprised\"]\n\nHowever, Grim went the next morning to Jarl Godard and said: \"Lord, I\nhave done your behest, and drowned the boy with an anchor about his\nneck. He is safe, and now, I pray you, give me my reward, the gold and\nother treasures, and make me a freeman as you have promised.\" But\nGodard only looked fiercely at him and said: \"What, wouldst thou be an\nearl? Go home, thou foul churl, and be ever a thrall! It is enough\nreward that I do not hang thee now for insolence, and for thy wicked\ndeeds. Go speedily, else thou mayst stand and palter with me too\nlong.\" And Grim shrank quietly away, lest Godard should slay him for\nthe murder of Havelok.\n\nNow Grim saw in what a terrible plight he stood, at the mercy of this\ncruel and treacherous man, and he took counsel with himself and\nconsulted his wife, and the two decided to flee from Denmark to save\ntheir lives. Gradually Grim sold all his stock, his cattle, his nets,\neverything that he owned, and turned it into good pieces of gold; then\nhe bought and secretly fitted out and provisioned a ship, and at last,\nwhen all was ready, carried on board Havelok (who had lain hidden all\nthis time), his own three sons and two daughters; then when he and his\nwife had gone on board he set sail, and, driven by a favourable wind,\nreached the shores of England.\n\n\nGoldborough and Earl Godrich\n\nMeanwhile in England a somewhat similar fate had befallen a fair\nprincess named Goldborough. When her father, King Athelwold, lay dying\nall his people mourned, for he was the flower of all fair England for\nknighthood, justice, and mercy; and he himself grieved sorely for the\nsake of his little daughter, soon to be left an orphan. \"What will she\ndo?\" moaned he. \"She can neither speak nor walk! If she were only able\nto ride, to rule England, and to guard herself from shame, I should\nhave no grief, even if I died and left her alone, while I lived in the\njoy of paradise!\"\n\nThen Athelwold summoned a council to be held at Winchester, and asked\nthe advice of the nobles as to the care of the infant Goldborough.\nThey with one accord recommended Earl Godrich of Cornwall to be made\nregent for the little princess; and the earl, on being appointed,\nswore with all solemn rites that he would marry her at twelve years\nold to the highest, the best, fairest, and strongest man alive, and in\nthe meantime would train her in all royal virtues and customs. So\nKing Athelwold died, and was buried with great lamentations, and\nGodrich ruled the land as regent. He was a strict but just governor,\nand England had great peace, without and within, under his severe\nrule, for all lived in awe of him, though no man loved him.\nGoldborough grew and throve in all ways, and became famous through the\nland for her gracious beauty and gentle and virtuous demeanour. This\nroused the jealousy of Earl Godrich, who had played the part of king\nso long that he almost believed himself King of England, and he began\nto consider how he could secure the kingdom for himself and his son.\nThereupon he had Goldborough taken from Winchester, where she kept\nroyal state, to Dover, where she was imprisoned in the castle, and\nstrictly secluded from all her friends; there she remained, with poor\nclothes and scanty food, awaiting a champion to uphold her right.\n\n\nHavelok Becomes Cook's Boy\n\nWhen Grim sailed from Denmark to England he landed in the Humber, at\nthe place now called Grimsby, and there established himself as a\nfisherman. So successful was he that for twelve years he supported his\nfamily well, and carried his catches of fish far afield, even to\nLincoln, where rare fish always brought a good price. In all this time\nGrim never once called on Havelok for help in the task of feeding the\nfamily; he reverenced his king, and the whole household served Havelok\nwith the utmost deference, and often went with scanty rations to\nsatisfy the boy's great appetite. At length Havelok began to think how\nselfishly he was living, and how much food he consumed, and was filled\nwith shame when he realized how his foster-father toiled unweariedly\nwhile he did nothing to help. In his remorseful meditations it became\nclear to him that, though a king's son, he ought to do some useful\nwork. \"Of what use,\" thought he, \"is my great strength and stature if\nI do not employ it for some good purpose? There is no shame in honest\ntoil. I will work for my food, and try to make some return to Father\nGrim, who has done so much for me. I will gladly bear his baskets of\nfish to market, and I will begin to-morrow.\"\n\nOn the next day, in spite of Grim's protests Havelok carried a load of\nfish equal to four men's burden to Grimsby market, and sold it\nsuccessfully, returning home with the money he received; and this he\ndid day by day, till a famine arose and fish and food both became\nscarce. Then Grim, more concerned for Havelok than for his own\nchildren, called the youth to him and bade him try his fortunes in\nLincoln, for his own sake and for theirs; he would be better fed, and\nthe little food Grim could get would go further among the others if\nHavelok were not there. The one obstacle in the way was Havelok's lack\nof clothes, and Grim overcame that by sacrificing his boat's sail to\nmake Havelok a coarse tunic. That done, they bade each other farewell,\nand Havelok started for Lincoln, barefooted and bareheaded, for his\nonly garment was the sailcloth tunic. In Lincoln Havelok found no\nfriends and no food for two days, and he was desperate and faint with\nhunger, when he heard a call: \"Porters, porters! hither to me!\" Roused\nto new vigour by the chance of work, Havelok rushed with the rest, and\nbore down and hurled aside the other porters so vigorously that he was\nchosen to carry provisions for Bertram, the earl's cook; and in return\nhe received the first meal he had eaten for nearly three days.\n\nOn the next day Havelok again overthrew the porters, and, knocking\ndown at least sixteen, secured the work. This time he had to carry\nfish, and his basket was so laden that he bore nearly a cartload,\nwith which he ran to the castle. There the cook, amazed at his\nstrength, first gave him a hearty meal, and then offered him good\nservice under himself, with food and lodging for his wages. This offer\nHavelok accepted, and was installed as cook's boy, and employed in all\nthe lowest offices--carrying wood, water, turf, hewing logs, lifting,\nfetching, carrying--and in all he showed himself a wonderfully strong\nworker, with unfailing good temper and gentleness, so that the little\nchildren all loved the big, gentle, fair-haired youth who worked so\nquietly and played with them so merrily. When Havelok's old tunic\nbecame worn out, his master, the cook, took pity on him and gave him a\nnew suit, and then it could be seen how handsome and tall and strong a\nyouth this cook's boy really was, and his fame spread far and wide\nround Lincoln Town.\n\n[Illustration: \"Havelok again overthrew the porters\"]\n\n\nHavelok and Goldborough\n\nAt the great fair of Lincoln, sports of all kinds were indulged in,\nand in these Havelok took his part, for the cook, proud of his mighty\nscullion, urged him to compete in all the games and races. As Earl\nGodrich had summoned his Parliament to meet that year at Lincoln,\nthere was a great concourse of spectators, and even the powerful Earl\nRegent himself sometimes watched the sports and cheered the champions.\nThe first contest was \"putting the stone,\" and the stone chosen was so\nweighty that none but the most stalwart could lift it above the\nknee--none could raise it to his breast. This sport was new to\nHavelok, who had never seen it before, but when the cook bade him try\nhis strength he lifted the stone easily and threw it more than twelve\nfeet. This mighty deed caused his fame to be spread, not only among\nthe poor servants with whom Havelok was classed, but also among the\nbarons, their masters, and Havelok's Stone became a landmark in\nLincoln. Thus Godrich heard of a youth who stood head and shoulders\ntaller than other men and was stronger, more handsome--and yet a mere\ncommon scullion. The news brought him a flash of inspiration: \"Here is\nthe highest, strongest, best man in all England, and him shall\nGoldborough wed. I shall keep my vow to the letter, and England must\nfall to me, for Goldborough's royal blood will be lost by her marriage\nwith a thrall, the people will refuse her obedience, and England will\ncast her out.\"\n\nGodrich therefore brought Goldborough to Lincoln, received her with\nbell-ringing and seemly rejoicing, and bade her prepare for her\nwedding. This the princess refused to do until she knew who was her\ndestined husband, for she said she would wed no man who was not of\nroyal birth. Her firmness drove Earl Godrich to fierce wrath, and he\nburst out: \"Wilt thou be queen and mistress over me? Thy pride shall\nbe brought down: thou shalt have no royal spouse: a vagabond and\nscullion shalt thou wed, and that no later than to-morrow! Curses on\nhim who speaks thee fair!\" In vain the princess wept and bemoaned\nherself: the wedding was fixed for the morrow morn.\n\nThe next day at dawn Earl Godrich sent for Havelok, the mighty cook's\nboy, and asked him: \"Wilt thou take a wife?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" quoth Havelok, \"that will I not. I cannot feed her, much less\nclothe and lodge her. My very garments are not my own, but belong to\nthe cook, my master.\" Godrich fell upon Havelok and beat him\nfuriously, saying, \"Unless thou wilt take the wench I give thee for\nwife I will hang or blind thee\"; and so, in great fear, Havelok agreed\nto the wedding. At once Goldborough was brought, and forced into an\nimmediate marriage, under penalty of banishment or burning as a witch\nif she refused. And thus the unwilling couple were united by the\nArchbishop of York, who had come to attend the Parliament.\n\nNever was there so sad a wedding! The people murmured greatly at this\nunequal union, and pitied the poor princess, thus driven to wed a man\nof low birth; and Goldborough herself wept pitifully, but resigned\nherself to God's will. All men now acknowledged with grief that she\nand her husband could have no claim to the English throne, and thus\nGodrich seemed to have gained his object. Havelok and his unwilling\nbride recognised that they would not be safe near Godrich, and as\nHavelok had no home in Lincoln to which he could take the princess, he\ndetermined to go back to his faithful foster-father, Grim, and put the\nfair young bride under his loyal protection. Sorrowfully, with grief\nand shame in their hearts, Havelok and Goldborough made their way on\nfoot to Grimsby, only to find the loyal Grim dead; but his five\nchildren were alive and in prosperity. When they saw Havelok and his\nwife they fell on their knees and saluted them with all respect and\nreverence. In their joy to see their king again, these worthy\nfisherfolk forgot their newly won wealth, and said: \"Welcome, dear\nlord, and thy fair lady! What joy is ours to see thee again, for thy\nsubjects are we, and thou canst do with us as thou wilt. All that we\nhave is thine, and if thou wilt dwell with us we will serve thee and\nthy wife truly in all ways!\" This greeting surprised Goldborough, who\nbegan to suspect some mystery, and she was greatly comforted when\nbrothers and sisters busied themselves in lighting fires, cooking\nmeals, and waiting on her hand and foot, as if she had been indeed a\nking's wife. Havelok, however, said nothing to explain the mystery,\nand Goldborough that night lay awake bewailing her fate as a thrall's\nbride, even though he was the fairest man in England.\n\n\nThe Revelation and Return to Denmark\n\nAs Goldborough lay sleepless and unhappy she became aware of a\nbrilliant light shining around Havelok and streaming from his mouth;\nand while she feared and wondered an angelic voice cried to her:\n\n \"Fair Princess, cease this grief and heavy moan!\n For Havelok, thy newly wedded spouse,\n Is son and heir to famous kings: the sign\n Thou findest in the cross of ruddy gold\n That shineth on his shoulder. He shall be\n Monarch and ruler of two mighty realms;\n Denmark and England shall obey his rule,\n And he shall sway them with a sure command.\n This shalt thou see with thine own eyes, and be\n Lady and Queen, with Havelok, o'er these lands.\"\n\nThis angelic message so gladdened Goldborough that she kissed, for the\nfirst time, her unconscious husband, who started up from his sleep,\nsaying, \"Dear love, sleepest thou? I have had a wondrous dream. I\nthought I sat on a lofty hill, and saw all Denmark before me. As I\nstretched out my arms I embraced it all, and the people clung to my\narms, and the castles fell at my feet; then I flew over the salt sea\nwith the Danish people clinging to me, and I closed all fair England\nin my hand, and gave it to thee, dear love! Now what can this mean?\"\n\nGoldborough answered joyfully: \"It means, dear heart, that thou shalt\nbe King of Denmark and of England too: all these realms shall fall\ninto thy power, and thou shalt be ruler in Denmark within one year.\nNow do thou follow my advice, and let us go to Denmark, taking with us\nGrim's three sons, who will accompany thee for love and loyalty; and\nhave no fear, for I know thou wilt succeed.\"\n\nThe next morning Havelok went to church early, and prayed humbly and\nheartily for success in his enterprise and retribution on the false\ntraitor Godard; then, laying his offering on the altar before the\nCross, he went away glad in heart. Grim's three sons, Robert the Red,\nWilliam Wendut, and Hugh the Raven, joyfully consented to go with\nHavelok to Denmark, to attack with all their power the false Jarl\nGodard and to win the kingdom for the rightful heir. Their wives and\nfamilies stayed in England, but Goldborough would not leave her\nhusband, and after a short voyage the party landed safely on the\nshores of Denmark, in the lands of Jarl Ubbe, an old friend of King\nBirkabeyn, who lived far from the court now that a usurper held sway\nin Denmark.\n\n\nHavelok and Ubbe\n\nHavelok dared not reveal himself and his errand until he knew more of\nthe state of parties in the country, and he therefore only begged\npermission to live and trade there, giving Ubbe, as a token of\ngoodwill and a tribute to his power, a valuable ring, which the jarl\nprized greatly. Ubbe, gazing at the so-called merchant's great stature\nand beauty, lamented that he was not of noble birth, and planned to\npersuade him to take up the profession of arms. At first, however, he\nsimply granted Havelok permission to trade, and invited him and\nGoldborough to a feast, promising them safety and honour under his\nprotection. Havelok dreaded lest his wife's beauty might place them in\njeopardy, but he dared not refuse the invitation, which was pointedly\ngiven to both; accordingly, when they went to Ubbe's hall, Goldborough\nwas escorted by Robert the Red and William Wendut.\n\nUbbe received them with all honour, and all men marvelled at\nGoldborough's beauty, and Ubbe's wife loved Goldborough at first sight\nas her husband did Havelok, so that the feast passed off with all joy\nand mirth, and none dared raise a hand or lift his voice against the\nwandering merchant whom Ubbe so strangely favoured. But Ubbe knew that\nwhen once Havelok and his wife were away from his protection there\nwould be little safety for them, since the rough Danish nobles would\nthink nothing of stealing a trader's fair wife, and many a man had\ncast longing eyes on Goldborough's loveliness. Therefore when the\nfeast was over, and Havelok took his leave, Ubbe sent with him a body\nof ten knights and sixty men-at-arms, and recommended them to the\nmagistrate of the town, Bernard Brown, a true and upright man, bidding\nhim, as he prized his life, keep the strangers in safety and honour.\nWell it was that Ubbe and Bernard Brown took these precautions, for\nlate at night a riotous crowd came to Bernard's house clamouring for\nadmittance. Bernard withstood the angry mob, armed with a great axe,\nbut they burst the door in by hurling a huge stone; and then Havelok\njoined in the defence. He drew out the great beam which barred the\ndoor, and crying, \"Come quickly to me, and you shall stay here! Curses\non him who flees!\" began to lay about him with the big beam, so that\nthree fell dead at once. A terrible fight followed, in which Havelok,\narmed only with the beam, slew twenty men in armour, and was then sore\nbeset by the rest of the troop, aiming darts and arrows at his\nunarmoured breast. It was going hardly with him, when Hugh the Raven,\nhearing and understanding the cries of the assailants, called his\nbrothers to their lord's aid, and they all joined the fight so\nfuriously that, long ere day, of the sixty men who had attacked the\ninn not one remained alive.\n\nIn the morning news was brought to Jarl Ubbe that his stranger\nguest had slain sixty of the best of his soldiery.\n\n\"What can this mean?\" said Ubbe. \"I had better go and see to it\nmyself, for any messenger would surely treat Havelok discourteously,\nand I should be full loath to do that.\" He rode away to the house of\nBernard Brown, and asked the meaning of its damaged and battered\nappearance.\n\n\"My lord,\" answered Bernard Brown, \"last night at moonrise there came\na band of sixty thieves who would have plundered my house and bound me\nhand and foot. When Havelok and his companions saw it they came to my\naid, with sticks and stones, and drove out the robbers like dogs from\na mill. Havelok himself slew three at one blow. Never have I seen a\nwarrior so good! He is worth a thousand in a fray. But alas! he is\ngrievously wounded, with three deadly gashes in side and arm and\nthigh, and at least twenty smaller wounds. I am scarcely harmed at\nall, but I fear he will die full soon.\"\n\nUbbe could scarcely believe so strange a tale, but all the bystanders\nswore that Bernard told nothing but the bare truth, and that the whole\ngang of thieves, with their leader, Griffin the Welshman, had been\nslain by the hero and his small party. Then Ubbe bade them bring\nHavelok, that he might call a leech to heal his wounds, for if the\nstranger merchant should live Jarl Ubbe would without fail dub him\nknight; and when the leech had seen the wounds he said the patient\nwould make a good and quick recovery. Then Ubbe offered Havelok and\nhis wife a dwelling in his own castle, under his own protection, till\nHavelok's grievous wounds were healed. There, too, fair Goldborough\nwould be under the care of Ubbe's wife, who would cherish her as her\nown daughter. This kind offer was accepted gladly, and they all went\nto the castle, where a room was given them next to Ubbe's own.\n\nAt midnight Ubbe woke, aroused by a bright light in Havelok's room,\nwhich was only separated from his own by a slight wooden partition. He\nwas vexed suspecting his guest of midnight wassailing, and went to\ninquire what villainy might be hatching. To his surprise, both husband\nand wife were sound asleep, but the light shone from Havelok's mouth,\nand made a glory round his head. Utterly amazed at the marvel, Ubbe\nwent away silently, and returned with all the garrison of his castle\nto the room where his guests still lay sleeping. As they gazed on the\nlight Havelok turned in his sleep, and they saw on his shoulder the\ngolden cross, shining like the sun, which all men knew to be the token\nof royal birth. Then Ubbe exclaimed: \"Now I know who this is, and why\nI loved him so dearly at first sight: this is the son of our dead King\nBirkabeyn. Never was man so like another as this man is to the dead\nking: he is his very image and his true heir.\" With great joy they\nfell on their knees and kissed him eagerly, and Havelok awoke and\nbegan to scowl furiously, for he thought it was some treacherous\nattack; but Ubbe soon undeceived him.\n\n[Illustration: \"With great joy they fell on their knees\"]\n\n \"'Dear lord,' quoth he, 'be thou in naught dismayed,\n For in thine eyes methinks I see thy thought--\n Dear son, great joy is mine to live this day!\n My homage, lord, I freely offer thee:\n Thy loyal men and vassals are we all,\n For thou art son of mighty Birkabeyn,\n And soon shalt conquer all thy father's land,\n Though thou art young and almost friendless here.\n To-morrow will we swear our fealty due,\n And dub thee knight, for prowess unexcelled.'\"\n\nNow Havelok knew that his worst danger was over, and he thanked God\nfor the friend He had sent him, and left to the good Jarl Ubbe the\nmanagement of his cause. Ubbe gathered an assembly of as many mighty\nmen of the realm, and barons, and good citizens, as he could summon;\nand when they were all assembled, pondering what was the cause of this\nimperative summons, Ubbe arose and said:\n\n\"Gentles, bear with me if I tell you first things well known to you.\nYe know that King Birkabeyn ruled this land until his death-day, and\nthat he left three children--one son, Havelok, and two daughters--to\nthe guardianship of Jarl Godard: ye all heard him swear to keep them\nloyally and treat them well. But ye do not know how he kept his oath!\nThe false traitor slew both the maidens, and would have slain the boy,\nbut for pity he would not kill the child with his own hands. He bade a\nfisherman drown him in the sea; but when the good man knew that it was\nthe rightful heir, he saved the boy's life and fled with him to\nEngland, where Havelok has been brought up for many years. And now,\nbehold! here he stands. In all the world he has no peer, and ye may\nwell rejoice in the beauty and manliness of your king. Come now and\npay homage to Havelok, and I myself will be your leader!\"\n\nJarl Ubbe turned to Havelok, where he stood with Goldborough beside\nhim, and knelt before him to do homage, an example which was followed\nby all present. At a second and still larger assembly held a fortnight\nlater a similar oath of fealty was sworn by all, Havelok was dubbed\nknight by the noble Ubbe, and a great festival was celebrated, with\nsports and amusements for the populace. A council of war and vengeance\nwas held with the great nobles.\n\n\nThe Death of Godard\n\nHavelok, now acknowledged King of Denmark, was unsatisfied until he had\npunished the treacherous Godard, and he took a solemn oath from his\nsoldiers that they would never cease the search for the traitor till\nthey had captured him and brought him bound to judgment. After all,\nGodard was captured as he was hunting. Grim's three sons, now knighted\nby King Havelok, met him in the forest, and bade him come to the king,\nwho called on him to remember and account for his treatment of\nBirkabeyn's children. Godard struck out furiously with his fists, but\nSir Robert the Red wounded him in the right arm. When Godard's men\njoined in the combat, Robert and his brothers soon slew ten of their\nadversaries, and the rest fled; returning, ashamed at the bitter\nreproaches of their lord, they were all slain by Havelok's men. Godard\nwas taken, bound hand and foot, placed on a miserable jade with his\nface to the tail, and so led to Havelok. The king refused to be the\njudge of his own cause, and entrusted to Ubbe the task of presiding at\nthe traitor's trial. No mercy was shown to the cruel Jarl Godard, and\nhe was condemned to a traitor's death, with torments of terrible\nbarbarity. The sentence was carried out to the letter, and Denmark\nrejoiced in the punishment of a cruel villain.\n\n\nDeath of Godrich\n\nMeanwhile Earl Godrich of Cornwall had heard with great uneasiness\nthat Havelok had become King of Denmark, and intended to invade\nEngland with a mighty army to assert his wife's right to the throne.\nHe recognised that his own device to shame Goldborough had turned\nagainst him, and that he must now fight for his life and the usurped\ndominion he held over England. Godrich summoned his army to Lincoln\nfor the defence of the realm against the Danes, and called out every\nman fit to bear weapons, on pain of becoming thrall if they failed\nhim. Then he thus addressed them:\n\n \"Friends, listen to my words, and you will know\n 'Tis not for sport, nor idle show, that I\n Have bidden you to meet at Lincoln here.\n Lo! here at Grimsby foreigners are come\n Who have already won the Priory.\n These Danes are cruel heathen, who destroy\n Our churches and our abbeys: priests and nuns\n They torture to the death, or lead away\n To serve as slaves the haughty Danish jarls.\n Now, Englishmen, what counsel will ye take?\n If we submit, they will rule all our land,\n Will kill us all, and sell our babes for thralls,\n Will take our wives and daughters for their own.\n Help me, if ever ye loved English land,\n To fight these heathen and to cleanse our soil\n From hateful presence of these alien hordes.\n I make my vow to God and all the saints\n I will not rest, nor houseled be, nor shriven,\n Until our realm be free from Danish foe!\n Accursed be he who strikes no blow for home!\"\n\nThe army was inspired with valour by these courageous words, and the\nmarch to Grimsby began at once, with Earl Godrich in command.\nHavelok's men marched out gallantly to meet them, and when the battle\njoined many mighty deeds of valour were done, especially by the king\nhimself, his foster-brothers, and Jarl Ubbe. The battle lasted long\nand was very fierce and bloody, but the Danes gradually overcame the\nresistance of the English, and at last, after a great hand-to-hand\nconflict, King Havelok captured Godrich. The traitor earl, who had\nlost a hand in the fray, was sent bound and fettered to Queen\nGoldborough, who kept him, carefully guarded, until he could be tried\nby his peers, since (for all his treason) he was still a knight.\n\nWhen the English recognised their rightful lady and queen they did\nhomage with great joy, begging mercy for having resisted their lawful\nruler at the command of a wicked traitor; and the king and queen\npardoned all but Godrich, who was speedily brought to trial at\nLincoln. He was sentenced to be burnt at the stake, and the sentence\nwas carried out amid general rejoicings.\n\nNow that vengeance was satisfied, Havelok and his wife thought of\nrecompensing the loyal helpers who had believed in them and supported\nthem through the long years of adversity. Havelok married one of\nGrim's daughters to the Earl of Chester, and the other to Bertram, the\ngood cook, who became Earl of Cornwall in the place of the felon\nGodrich and his disinherited children; the heroic Ubbe was made Regent\nof Denmark for Havelok, who decided to stay and rule England, and all\nthe noble Danish warriors were rewarded with gifts of gold, and lands\nand castles. After a great coronation feast, which lasted for forty\ndays, King Havelok dismissed the Danish regent and his followers, and\nafter sad farewells they returned to their own country. Havelok and\nGoldborough ruled England in peace and security for sixty years, and\nlived together in all bliss, and had fifteen children, who all became\nmighty kings and queens.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI: HOWARD THE HALT\n\n\nIntroduction\n\nIn every society and in all periods the obligations of family\naffection and duty to kinsmen have been recognised as paramount. In\nthe early European communities a man's first duty was to stand by his\nkinsman in strife and to avenge him in death, however unrighteous the\nkinsman's quarrel might be.\n\nHow pitiful is the aged Priam's lament that he must needs kiss the\nhands that slew his dear son Hector, and, kneeling, clasp the knees of\nhis son's murderer! How sad is Cuchulain's plaint that his son Connla\nmust go down to the grave unavenged, since his own father slew him,\nall unwitting! One remembers, too, Beowulf's words: \"Better it is for\nevery man that he avenge his friend than that he mourn him much!\"\nSince, then, family affection, the laws of honour and duty, and every\nrecognised standard of life demanded that a kinsman should obtain a\nfull wergild (or money payment) for his relative's death, unless he\nchose to take up the blood-feud against the murderer's family, we can\nhardly wonder that some of the heroes of early European literature are\nheroes of vengeance. Orestes and Electra are Greek embodiments of the\nidea of the sacredness of vengeance for murdered kinsfolk, and similar\nfeelings are revealed in Gudrun's revenge for the murder of Siegfried\nin the \"Nibelungenlied.\" To the Teutonic or Celtic warrior there would\nbe heroism of a noble type in a just vengeance fully accomplished, and\nthis heroism would be more easily recognised when the wrongdoer was\nrich and powerful, the avenger old, poor, and friendless. While\nadmitting that the hero of vengeance belongs to and represents only\none side of the civilisation of a somewhat barbaric community, we\nmust allow that the elements of dogged perseverance, dauntless\ncourage, and resolute loyalty in some degree redeemed the ferocity and\ncruelty of the blood-feud he waged against the ill-doer.\n\nIt is certain that in the popular Icelandic saga of \"Howard the Halt\"\ntradition has recorded with minute detail of approbation the story of\na man and woman, old, weak, friendless, who, in spite of terrible\nodds, succeeded in obtaining a late but sufficing vengeance for the\ncruel slaughter of their only son, the murderer being the most\npowerful man of the region. The part here assigned to the woman\nindicates the firm hold which the blood-feud had gained on the\nimagination of the Norsemen.\n\n\nIcelandic Ghosts\n\nThe story possesses a further interest as revealing the unique\ncharacter of the Icelandic ghost or phantom. In other literatures the\nspirit returned from the dead is a thin, immaterial, disembodied\nessence, a faint shadow of its former self; in Icelandic legend the\nspirit returns in full possession of its body, but more evil-disposed\nto mankind than before death. It fights and wrestles, pummels its\nadversary black and blue, it is huge and bloated and hideous, it tries\nto strangle men, and leaves finger-marks on their throats. If the\nghosts are those of drowned men, they come home every night dripping\nwith sea-water, and crowd the family from the fire and from the hall.\nApparently they are evil spirits animating the dead body, and nothing\nbut the utter destruction of the body avails to drive away the\nmalignant spirit.\n\n\nThe Story. Howard and Thorbiorn\n\nThus runs the saga of \"Howard the Halt\":\n\nAbout the year 1000, when the Christian faith had hardly yet been\nheard of in Iceland, there dwelt at Bathstead, on the shores of\nIcefirth, in that far-distant land a mighty chieftain, of royal\ndescent and great wealth, named Thorbiorn. Though not among the first\nsettlers of Iceland, he had appropriated much unclaimed land, and was\none of the leading men of the country-side, but was generally disliked\nfor his arrogance and injustice. Thorkel, the lawman and arbitrator of\nIcefirth, was weak and easily cowed, so Thorbiorn's wrongdoing\nremained unchecked; many a maiden had he betrothed to himself, and\nafterwards rejected, and many a man had he ousted from his lands, yet\nno redress could be obtained, and no man was bold enough to attack so\ngreat a chieftain or resist his will. Thorbiorn's house at Bathstead\nwas one of the best in the district, and his lands stretched down to\nthe shores of the firth, where he had made a haven with a jetty for\nships. His boathouse stood a little back above a ridge of shingle, and\nbeside a deep pool or lagoon. The household of Thorbiorn included\nSigrid, a fair maiden, young and wealthy, who was his housekeeper;\nVakr, an ill-conditioned and malicious fellow, Thorbiorn's nephew; and\na strong and trusted serving-man named Brand. Besides these there were\nhouse-carles in plenty, and labourers, all good fighting-men.\n\nNot far from Bathstead, at Bluemire, dwelt an old Viking called\nHoward. He was of honourable descent, and had won fame in earlier\nViking expeditions, but since he had returned lamed and nearly\nhelpless from his last voyage he had aged greatly, and men called him\nHoward the Halt. His wife, Biargey, however, was an active and\nstirring woman, and their only son, Olaf, bade fair to become a\nredoubtable warrior. Though only fifteen, Olaf had reached full\nstature, was tall, fair, handsome, and stronger than most men. He wore\nhis fair hair long, and always went bareheaded, for his great bodily\nstrength defied even the bitter winter cold of Iceland, and he faced\nthe winds clad in summer raiment only. With all his strength and\nbeauty, Olaf was a loving and obedient son to Howard and Biargey, and\nthe couple loved him as the apple of their eye.\n\n\nOlaf Meets Sigrid\n\nThe men of Icefirth were wont to drive their sheep into the mountains\nduring the summer, leave them there till autumn, and then, collecting\nthe scattered flocks, to restore to each man his own branded sheep.\nOne autumn the flocks were wild and shy, and it was found that many\nsheep had strayed in the hills. When those that had been gathered were\ndivided Thorbiorn had lost at least sixty wethers, and was greatly\nvexed. Some weeks later Olaf Howardson went alone into the hills, and\nreturned with all the lost sheep, having sought them with great toil\nand danger. Olaf drove the rest of the sheep home to their grateful\nowners, and then took Thorbiorn's to Bathstead. Reaching the house at\nnoonday, he knocked on the door, and as all men sat at their noontide\nmeal, the housekeeper, the fair Sigrid, went forth herself and saw\nOlaf.\n\nShe greeted him courteously and asked his business, and he replied, \"I\nhave brought home Thorbiorn's wethers which strayed this autumn,\" and\nthen the two talked together for a short time. Now Thorbiorn was\ncurious to know what the business might be, and sent his nephew Vakr\nto see who was there; he went secretly and listened to the\nconversation between Sigrid and Olaf, but heard little, for Olaf was\njust saying, \"Then I need not go in to Thorbiorn; thou, Sigrid, canst\nas well tell him where his sheep are now\"; then he simply bade her\nfarewell and turned away.\n\n[Illustration: Olaf and Sigrid]\n\nVakr ran back into the hall, shouting and laughing, till Thorbiorn\nasked: \"How now, nephew! Why makest thou such outcry? Who is there?\"\n\n\"It was Olaf Howardson, the great booby of Bluemire, bringing back the\nsheep thou didst lose in the autumn.\"\n\n\"That was a neighbourly deed,\" said Thorbiorn.\n\n\"Ah! but there was another reason for his coming, I think,\" said Vakr.\n\"He and Sigrid had a long talk together, and I saw her put her arms\nround his neck; she seemed well pleased to greet him.\"\n\n\"Olaf may be a brave man, but it is rash of him to anger me thus, by\ntrying to steal away my housekeeper,\" said Thorbiorn, scowling\nheavily. Olaf had no thanks for his kindness, and was ill received\nwhenever he came; yet he came often to see Sigrid, for he loved her,\nand tried to persuade her to wed him. Thorbiorn hated him the more for\nhis open wooing, which he could not forbid.\n\n\nThorbiorn Insults Olaf\n\nThe next year, when harvest was over, and the sheep were brought home,\nagain most of the missing sheep belonged to Thorbiorn, and again Olaf\nwent to the mountains alone and brought back the stray ones. All\nthanked him, except the master of Bathstead, to whom Olaf drove back\nsixty wethers. Thorbiorn had grown daily more enraged at Olaf's\npopularity, his strength and beauty, and his evident love for Sigrid,\nand now chose this opportunity of insulting the bold youth who\nrivalled him in fame and in public esteem.\n\nOlaf reached Bathstead at noon, and seeing that all men were in the\nhall, he entered, and made his way to the dais where Thorbiorn sat;\nthere he leaned on his axe, gazed steadily at the master, who gave him\nno single word of greeting. Then every one kept silence watching them\nboth.\n\nAt last Olaf broke the stillness by asking: \"Why are you all dumb?\nThere is no honour to those who say naught. I have stood here long\nenough and had no word of courteous greeting. Master Thorbiorn, I have\nbrought home thy missing sheep.\"\n\nVakr answered spitefully: \"Yes, we all know that thou hast become the\nIcefirth sheep-drover; and we all know that thou hast come to claim\nsome share of the sheep, as any other beggar might. Kinsman Thorbiorn,\nthou hadst better give him some little alms to satisfy him!\"\n\nOlaf flushed angrily as he answered: \"Nay, it is not for that I came;\nbut, Thorbiorn, I will not seek thy lost sheep a third time.\" And as\nhe turned and strode indignantly from the hall Vakr mocked and jeered\nat him. Yet Olaf passed forth in silence.\n\nThe third year Olaf found and brought home all men's sheep but\nThorbiorn's; and then Vakr spread the rumour that Olaf had stolen\nthem, since he could not otherwise obtain a share of them. This rumour\ncame at last to Howard's ears, and he upbraided Olaf, saying, when his\nson praised their mutton, \"Yes, it is good, and it is really ours, not\nThorbiorn's. It is terrible that we have to bear such injustice.\"\n\nOlaf said nothing, but, seizing the leg of mutton, flung it across the\nroom; and Howard smiled at the wrath which his son could no longer\nsuppress; perhaps, too, Howard longed to see Olaf in conflict with\nThorbiorn.\n\n\nOlaf and the Wizard's Ghost\n\nWhile Howard was still upbraiding Olaf a widow entered, who had come\nto ask for help in a difficult matter. Her dead husband (a reputed\nwizard) returned to his house night after night as a dreadful ghost,\nand no man would live in the house. Would Howard come and break the\nspell and drive away the dreadful nightly visitant?\n\n\"Alas!\" replied Howard, \"I am no longer young and strong. Why do you\nnot ask Thorbiorn? He accounts himself to be chief here, and a\nchieftain should protect those in his country-side.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the widow. \"I am only too glad if Thorbiorn lets me alone.\nI will not meddle with him.\"\n\nThen said Olaf: \"Father, I will go and try my strength with this\nghost, for I am young and stronger than most, and I deem such a matter\ngood sport.\"\n\nAccordingly Olaf went back with the widow, and slept in the hall that\nnight, with a skin rug over him. At nightfall the dead wizard came in,\nghastly, evil-looking, and terrible, and tore the skin from over Olaf;\nbut the youth sprang up and wrestled with the evil creature, who\nseemed to have more than mortal strength. They fought grimly till the\nlights died out, and the struggle raged in the darkness up and down\nthe hall, and finally out of doors. In the yard round the house the\ndead wizard fell, and Olaf knelt upon him and broke his back, and\nthought him safe from doing any mischief again. When Olaf returned to\nthe hall men had rekindled the lights, and all made much of him, and\ntended his bruises and wounds, and counted him a hero indeed. His fame\nspread through the whole district, and he was greatly beloved by all\nmen; but Thorbiorn hated him more than ever.\n\nSoon another quarrel arose, when a stranded whale, which came ashore\non Howard's land, was adjudged to Thorbiorn. The lawman, Thorkel, was\nsummoned to decide to whom the whale belonged, and came to view it.\n\"It is manifestly theirs,\" said he falteringly, for he dreaded\nThorbiorn's wrath. \"Whose saidst thou?\" cried Thorbiorn, coming to him\nmenacingly, with drawn sword. \"Thine,\" said Thorkel, with downcast\neyes; and Thorbiorn triumphantly claimed and took the whale though the\ninjustice of the decree was evident. Yet Olaf felt no ill-will to\nThorbiorn, for Sigrid's sake, but contrived to render him another\nservice.\n\n\nOlaf's Second Fight with the Ghost\n\nBrand the Strong, Thorbiorn's shepherd, could not drive his sheep one\nday. Olaf met him trying to get his frightened wethers home: it seemed\nan impossible task, because an uncanny human form, with waving arms,\nstood in a narrow bend of the path and drove them back and scattered\nthem. Brand told Olaf all the tale, and when the two went to look,\nOlaf saw that the enemy was the ghost of the dead wizard whom he had\nfought before. \"Which wilt thou do,\" said Olaf, \"fight the wizard or\ngather thy sheep?\"\n\n\"I have no wish to fight the ghost; I will find my scattered sheep,\"\nsaid Brand; \"that is the easier task.\"\n\nThen Olaf ran at the ghost, who awaited him at the top of a high bank,\nand he and the wizard wrestled again with each other till they fell\nfrom the bank into a snowdrift, and so down to the sea-shore. There\nOlaf, whose strength had been tried to the utmost, had the upper hand,\nand again broke the back of the dead wizard; but, seeing that that had\nbeen of no avail before, he took the body, swam out to sea with it,\nand sank it deep in the firth. Ever after men believed that this part\nof the coast was dangerous to ships.\n\nBrand thanked the youth much for his help, and when he reached\nBathstead related what Olaf had done for him. Thorbiorn said nothing,\nbut Vakr sneered, and called Brand a coward for asking help of Olaf.\nThe strife grew keen between them, almost to blows, and was only\nsettled by Thorbiorn, who forbade Brand to praise Olaf or to accept\nhelp from him. His ill-will grew so evident to all men that Howard the\nHalt decided, in spite of Olaf's reluctance, to remove to a homestead\non the other side of the firth, away from Thorbiorn's neighbourhood.\n\n\nOlaf Meets Thorbiorn\n\nThat summer Thorbiorn decided to marry. He wooed a maiden who was\nsister of the wise Guest, who dwelt at the Mead, and Guest agreed to\nthe match, on condition that Thorbiorn should renounce his injustice\nand evil ways; to this Thorbiorn assented, and the wedding was held\nshortly after. Thorbiorn had said nothing to his household of his\nproposed marriage, and Sigrid first heard of it when the wedding was\nover, and the bridal party would soon be riding home to Bathstead.\nSigrid was very wroth that she must give up her control of the\nhousehold to another, and refused to stay to serve under Thorbiorn's\nwife; accordingly she withdrew from Bathstead to a kinsman's house,\ntaking all her goods with her. Thorbiorn raged furiously on his\nreturn, when he found that she was gone, for her wealth made a great\ndifference to his comfort, and threatened dire punishment to all who\nhad helped her. Olaf continued his wooing of Sigrid, and went to see\nher often in her kinsman's abode, and they loved each other greatly.\n\nOne day when Olaf had been seeking some lost sheep he made his way to\nSigrid's house, to talk with her as usual. As they stood near the\nhouse together and talked Sigrid looked suddenly anxious and said:\n\n\"I see Thorbiorn and Vakr coming in a boat over the firth with weapons\nbeside them, and I see the gleam of Thorbiorn's great sword Warflame.\nI fear they have done, or will do, some evil deed, and therefore I\npray thee, Olaf, not to stay and meet them. He has hated thee for a\nlong time, and the help thou didst give me to leave Bathstead did not\nmend matters. Go thy way now, and do not fall in with them.\"\n\n\"I am not afraid,\" said Olaf. \"I have done Thorbiorn no wrong, and I\nwill not flee before him. He is only one man, as I am.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" Sigrid replied, \"how canst thou, a stripling of eighteen, hope\nto stand before a grown man, a mighty champion, armed with a magic\nsword? Thy words and thoughts are brave, as thou thyself art, but the\nodds are too great for thee: they are two to one, since Vakr, ever\nspiteful and malicious, will not stand idle while thou art in combat\nwith Thorbiorn.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Olaf, \"I will not avoid them, but I will not seek a\ncontest. If it must be so, I will fight bravely; thou shalt hear of my\ndeeds.\"\n\n\"No, that will never be; I will not live after thee to ask of them,\"\nsaid Sigrid.\n\n\"Farewell now; live long and happily!\" said Olaf; and so they bade\neach other farewell, and Olaf left her there, and went down to the\nshore where his sheep lay. Thorbiorn and Vakr had just landed, and\nthey greeted each other, and Olaf asked them their errand. \"We go to\nmy mother,\" said Vakr.\n\n\"Let us go together,\" replied Olaf, \"for my way is the same in part.\nBut I am sorry that I must needs drive my sheep home, for Icefirth\nsheep-drovers will become proud if a great man like thee should join\nthe trade, Thorbiorn.\"\n\n\"Nay, I do not mind that,\" said Thorbiorn; so they all went on\ntogether; and as he went Olaf caught up a crooked cudgel with which to\nherd his sheep; he noticed, too, that Thorbiorn and Vakr kept trying\nto lag behind him, and he took care that they all walked abreast.\n\n\nThe Combat\n\nWhen the three came near the house of Thordis, Vakr's mother, where\nthe ways divided, Thorbiorn said: \"Now, nephew Vakr, we need no longer\ndelay what we would do.\" And then Olaf knew that he had fallen into\ntheir snare. He ran up a bank beside the road, and the two set on him\nfrom below, and he defended himself at first manfully with the crooked\ncudgel; but Thorbiorn's sword Warflame sliced this like a stalk of\nflax, and Olaf had to betake himself to his axe, and the fight went on\nfor long.\n\n\nA New Enemy Comes\n\nThe noise of the fray reached the ears of Thordis, Vakr's mother, in\nher house, so that she sent a boy to learn the cause, and when he told\nher that Olaf Howardson was fighting against Thorbiorn and Vakr she\nbade her second son go to the help of his kinsfolk.\n\n\"I will not go,\" said he. \"I would rather fight for Olaf than for\nthem. It is a shame for two to set on one man, and they such great\nchampions too. I will not be the third; I will not go.\"\n\n\"Now I know that thou art a coward,\" sneered his mother. \"Daughter,\nnot son, thou art, too timid to help thy kinsfolk. I will show thee\nthat I am a braver daughter than thou a son!\"\n\n\nOlaf's Death\n\nBy these words Thordis so enraged her son that he seized his axe and\nrushed from the house down the hill towards Olaf, who could not see\nthe new-comer, because he stood with his back to the house. Coming\nclose to Olaf, the new assailant drove the axe in deep between his\nshoulders, and when Olaf felt the blow he turned and with a mighty\nstroke slew his last enemy. Thereupon Thorbiorn thrust Olaf through\nwith the sword Warflame, and he died. Then Thorbiorn took Olaf's\nteeth, which he smote from his jaw, wrapped them in a cloth, and\ncarried them home.\n\nThe news of the slaughter was at once told by Thorbiorn (for so long\nas homicide was not concealed it was not considered murder), and told\nfairly, so that all men praised Olaf for his brave defence, and\nlamented his death. But when men sought for the fair Sigrid she could\nnot be found, and was seen no more from that day. She had loved Olaf\ngreatly, had seen him fall, and could not live when he was dead; but\nno man knew where she died or was buried.\n\nThe terrible news of Olaf's death came to Howard, and he sighed\nheavily and took to his bed for grief, and remained bedridden for\ntwelve months, leaving his wife Biargey to manage the daily fishing\nand the farm. Men thought that Olaf would be for ever unavenged,\nbecause Howard was too feeble, and his adversary too mighty and too\nunjust.\n\n\nHoward Claims Wergild for Olaf\n\nWhen a year had passed away Biargey came to Howard where he lay in his\nbed, and bade him arise and go to Bathstead. Said she:\n\n\"I would have thee claim wergild for our son, since a man that can no\nlonger fight may well prove his valour by word of mouth, and if\nThorbiorn should show any sign of justice thou shalt not claim too\nmuch.\"\n\nHoward replied: \"I know it is a bootless errand to ask justice from\nThorbiorn, but I will do thy will in this matter.\"\n\nSo Howard went heavily, walking as an old man, to Bathstead, and,\nafter the usual greetings, said:\n\n\"I have come to thee, Thorbiorn, on a great matter--to claim wergild\nfor my dead son Olaf, whom thou didst slay guiltless.\"\n\nThorbiorn answered: \"I have never yet paid a wergild, though I have\nslain many men--some say innocent men. But I am sorry for thee, since\nthou hast lost a brave son, and I will at least give thee something.\nThere is an old horse named Dodderer out in the pastures, grey with\nage, sore-backed, too old to work; but thou canst take him home, and\nperhaps he will be some good, when thou hast fed him up.\"\n\nNow Howard was angered beyond speech. He reddened and turned straight\nto the door; and as he went down the hall Vakr shouted and jeered; but\nHoward said no word, good or bad. He returned home, and took to his\nbed for another year.\n\n[Illustration: Howard leaves the house of Thorbiorn]\n\n\nHoward at the Thing\n\nIn the second year Biargey again urged Howard to try for a wergild.\nShe suggested that he should follow Thorbiorn to the Thing and try to\nobtain justice, for men loathed Thorbiorn's evil ways, and Howard\nwould be sure to have many sympathizers. Howard was loath to go.\n\"Thorbiorn, my son's slayer, has mocked me once; shall he mock me\nagain where all the chieftains are assembled? I will not go to endure\nsuch shame!\"\n\nTo his surprise, Biargey urged her will, saying: \"Thou wilt have\nfriends, I know, since Guest will be there, and he is a just man, and\nwill strive to bring about peace between thee and Thorbiorn. And\nhearken to me, and heed my words, husband! If Thorbiorn is condemned\nto pay thee money, and there is a large ring of assessors, it may be\nthat when thou and he are in the ring together he will do something\nto grieve thee sorely. Then look thou well to it! If thy heart be\nlight, make thou no peace; I am somewhat foresighted, and I know that\nthen Olaf shall be avenged. But if thou be heavy-hearted, then do thou\nbe reconciled to Thorbiorn, for I know that Olaf shall lie unatoned\nfor.\"\n\nHoward replied: \"Wife, I understand thee not, nor thy words, but this\nI know: I would do and bear all things if I might but obtain due\nvengeance for Olaf's death.\"\n\nAt last Howard, impressed by his wife's half-prophetic words, roused\nhimself, and rode away to the Thing; here he found shelter with a\ngreat chieftain, Steinthor of Ere, who was kind to the old man, and\ngave Howard a place in his booth. Steinthor praised Olaf's courage and\nmanful defence, and bade his followers cherish the old man, and not\narouse his grief for his dead son.\n\n\nHoward and Thorbiorn\n\nAs the days wore on Howard did nothing towards obtaining compensation\nfor his great loss, until Steinthor asked him why he took no action in\nthe matter. Howard replied that he felt helpless against Thorbiorn's\nevil words and deeds; but Steinthor bade him try to win Guest to his\nside--then he would succeed. Howard took heart, and set off for the\nbooth which Thorbiorn shared with Guest; but unhappily Guest was not\nthere when Howard came. Thorbiorn greeted him and asked what matter\nhad brought him, and Howard replied:\n\n\"My grief for Olaf is yet deep in my heart; still I remember his\ndeath; and now again I come to claim a wergild for him.\"\n\nThorbiorn answered: \"Come to me at home in my own country, and I may\ndo somewhat for thee, but I will not have thee whining against me\nhere.\"\n\nHoward said: \"If thou wilt do nothing here, I have proved that thou\nwilt do still less in thine own country; but I had hoped for help from\nother chieftains.\"\n\nThorbiorn burst out wrathfully: \"See! He will stir up other men\nagainst me! Get thee gone, old man, or thou shalt not escape a\nbeating.\"\n\nNow Howard was greatly angered, and said: \"Yes, old I am--too old and\nfeeble to win respect; but the days have been when I would not have\nendured such wrong; yea, and if Olaf were still alive thou wouldst not\nhave flouted me thus.\" As he left Thorbiorn's sight his grief and\nanger were so great that he did not notice Guest returning, but went\nheavily to Steinthor's booth, where he told all Thorbiorn's injustice,\nand won much sympathy.\n\n\nGuest and Howard\n\nWhen Guest had entered the booth he sat down beside Thorbiorn and\nsaid:\n\n\"Who was the man whom I met leaving the booth just now?\"\n\n\"A wise question for a wise man to ask! How can I tell? So many come\nand go,\" said Thorbiorn.\n\n\"But this was an old man, large of stature, lame in one knee; yet he\nlooked a brave warrior, and he was so wrathful that he did not know\nwhere he went. He seemed a man likely to be lucky, too, and not one to\nbe lightly wronged.\"\n\n\"That must have been old Howard the Halt,\" said Thorbiorn. \"He is a\nman from my district, who has come after me to the Thing.\"\n\n\"Ah! Was it his brave son Olaf whom thou didst slay guiltless?\"\n\n\"Yes, certainly,\" returned Thorbiorn.\n\n\"How hast thou kept the promise of better ways which thou didst make\nwhen thou didst marry my sister?\" he asked; and Thorbiorn sat silent.\n\"This wrong must be amended,\" said Guest, and sent an honourable man\nto bring Howard to him. Howard at first refused to face Thorbiorn\nagain, but at last reluctantly consented to meet Guest, and when the\nlatter had greeted him in friendly and honourable fashion he told the\nwhole story, from the time of Thorbiorn's first jealousy of Olaf.\n\nGuest was horrified. \"Heard ever man such injustice!\" he cried. \"Now,\nThorbiorn, choose one of two things: either my sister shall no longer\nbe thy wife, or thou shalt allow me to give judgment between Howard\nand thee.\"\n\n\nGuest's Judgment and the Payment of the Wergild\n\nThorbiorn agreed to leave the matter in Guest's hands, and many men\nwere called to make a ring as assessors, that all might be legally\ndone, and Thorbiorn and Howard stood together in the ring. Then Guest\ngave judgment: \"Thorbiorn, I cannot condemn thee to pay Howard all\nthou owest--with all thy wealth, thou hast not money enough for that;\nbut for slaying Olaf thou shalt pay a threefold wergild. For the other\nwrongs thou hast done him, I, thy brother-in-law, will try to atone by\ngifts, and friendship, and all honour in my power, as long as we both\nlive; and if he will come home to stay with me he shall be right\nwelcome.\"\n\nThorbiorn agreed to the award, saying carelessly: \"I will pay him at\nhome in my own country, if he will come to me when I have more\nleisure.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Guest, who distrusted Thorbiorn, \"thou shalt pay here, and\nnow, fully; and I myself will pay one wergild, to help thee in\natonement.\" When this was agreed Howard sat down in the ring, and\nGuest gave him the one wergild (a hundred of silver), which Howard\nreceived in the skirt of his cloak; and then Thorbiorn paid one\nwergild slowly, coin by coin, and said he had no more money; but Guest\nbade him pay it all.\n\nThen Thorbiorn drew out a cloth and untied it, saying, \"He will surely\ncount himself paid in full if I give him this!\" and he flung into the\nold man's face, as he sat on the ground, the teeth of the dead Olaf,\nsaying, \"Here are thy son's teeth!\"\n\nHoward sprang up, bleeding, mad with rage and grief. The silver rolled\nin all directions from his cloak as he came to his feet, but he heeded\nit not at all. Blinded with blood, and furious, he broke through the\nring of assessors, dashed one of them to earth, and rushed away like a\nyoung man; but when he came to Steinthor's booth he lay as if dead,\nand spoke to no man.\n\n[Illustration: \"The silver rolled in all directions from his cloak\"]\n\nGuest would have no more to do with Thorbiorn. \"Thou hast no equal for\ncruelty and evil; thou shalt surely repent it,\" he said; and he rode\nto Bathstead, took his sister away, with all her wealth, and broke off\nhis alliance with Thorbiorn, caring nothing for the shame he put upon\nso unjust a man.\n\nHoward went home, told Biargey all that had happened, and took to his\nbed again, a poor, old, helpless, miserable man; but his wife, who saw\nher presage beginning to come true, kept up her courage, rowed out\nfishing every day, and guided the household for yet another year.\n\n\nBiargey and her Brethren\n\nThat summer, one day, as Biargey was rowed out to the fishing as\nusual, she saw Thorbiorn's boat coming up the firth, and bade her man\ntake up the lines and go to meet him, and row round the cutter, while\nshe talked with Thorbiorn. As Biargey's little boat approached the\ncutter Thorbiorn stopped his vessel for he saw that she would speak\nwith him, and her boat circled round the cutter while she asked his\nbusiness, and learnt that he was going with Vakr to meet a brother and\nnephew of his, to bring them to Bathstead, and that he expected to be\naway from home for a week. The little skiff had now passed completely\nround the motionless cutter, and Olaf's mother, having learnt all she\nwanted, bade her rower quit Thorbiorn; the little boat shot swiftly\nand suddenly away, leaving Thorbiorn with an uneasy sense of\nwitchcraft. So disquieted did he feel that he would have pursued her\nand drowned \"the old hag,\" as he called her, had he not been prevented\nby Brand the Strong, who had been helped in his need by Olaf.\n\nAs the little craft shot away Biargey smiled mysteriously, and said to\nher rower: \"Now I feel sure that Olaf my son will be avenged. I have\nwork to do: let us not go home yet.\"\n\n\"Where, then, shall we go?\" asked the man.\n\n\"To my brother Valbrand.\"\n\n\nValbrand\n\nNow Valbrand was an old man who had been a mighty warrior in his\nyouth, but had now settled down to a life of quiet and peace; he had,\nhowever, two promising sons, well-grown and manly youths. When\nValbrand saw his sister he came to meet her, saying:\n\n\"Welcome, sister! Seldom it is that we see thee. Wilt thou abide with\nus this night, or is thine errand one that craves haste?\"\n\n\"I must be home to-night,\" she replied, and added mysteriously: \"But\nthere is help I would fain ask of thee. Wilt thou lend me thy\nseal-nets? We have not enough to catch such fish as we need.\"\n\nValbrand answered: \"Willingly, and thou shalt choose for thyself. Here\nare three, one old and worn out, two new and untried; which wilt thou\ntake?\"\n\n\"I will have the new ones, but I do not need them yet; keep them ready\nfor the day when I shall send and ask for them,\" Biargey replied, and\nbade Valbrand farewell, and rowed away to her next brother.\n\n\nThorbrand and Asbrand\n\nWhen Howard's wife came to her brother Thorbrand she was well received\nby him and his two sons, and here she asked for the loan of a\ntrout-net, since she had not enough to catch the fish. Thorbrand\noffered her her choice--one old and worn out, or two new and untried\nnets; and again Biargey chose the new ones, and bade them be ready\nwhen the messenger came.\n\nFrom her third brother, Asbrand, who had only one son, Biargey asked a\nturf-cutter, as hers was not keen enough to cut all she wanted; again\nshe was offered her choice, and chose the new, untried cutter, instead\nof the old, rusty, notched one. Then Biargey bade farewell to Asbrand,\nrefusing his offer of hospitality, and went home to Howard, and told\nhim of her quests and the promises she had received. The old couple\nknew what the promises meant, but they said nothing to each other\nabout it.\n\n\nThe Arousing of Howard\n\nWhen seven days had passed Biargey came to Howard, saying: \"Arise now,\nand play the man, if thou wilt ever win vengeance for Olaf. Thou must\ndo it now or never, since now the opportunity has come. Knowest thou\nnot that to-day Thorbiorn returns to Bathstead, and thou must meet him\nto-day? And have I not found helpers for thee in my nephews? Thou wilt\nnot need to face the strife alone.\"\n\nHereupon Howard sprang up joyfully from his bed, and was no longer\nlame or halt, nor looked like an old man, but moved briskly, clad\nhimself in good armour, and seemed a mighty warrior. His joy broke\nforth in words, and he chanted songs of gladness in vengeance, and joy\nin strife, and evil omen to the death-doomed foe. Thus gladly, with\nspear in hand, he went forth to find his enemy and avenge his son; but\nhe turned and kissed his brave wife farewell, for he said: \"It may\nwell be that we shall not meet again.\" Biargey said: \"Nay, we shall\nmeet again, for I know that thou bearest a bold heart and a strong\narm, and wilt do valiantly.\"\n\n\nHoward Gathers his Friends\n\nHoward and one fighting-man took their boat and rowed to Valbrand's\nhouse, and saw him and his sons making hay. Valbrand greeted Howard\nwell, for he had not seen him for long, and begged him to stay there,\nbut Howard would not. \"I am in haste, and have come to fetch the two\nnew seal-nets thou didst lend to my wife,\" he said; and Valbrand\nunderstood him well. He called to his sons, \"Come hither, lads; here\nis your kinsman Howard, with mighty work on hand,\" and the two youths\nran up hastily, leaving their hay-making. Valbrand went to the house,\nand returned bearing good weapons, which he gave to his sons, bidding\nthem follow their kinsman Howard and help in his vengeance.\n\nThey three went down to the boat, took their seats beside Howard's\nman, and rowed to Asbrand's house. There Howard asked for the promised\nnew turf-cutter, and Asbrand's son, a tall and manly youth, joined the\nparty. At their next visit, to Thorbrand's house, Howard asked for the\ntwo trout-nets, and Thorbrand's two sons, with one stout fighting-man,\ncame gladly with their kinsman.\n\n\nHoward's Plan\n\nAs they rowed away together one of the youths asked: \"Why is it that\nthou hast no sword or axe, Uncle Howard?\" Howard replied: \"It may be\nthat we shall meet Thorbiorn, and when the meeting is over I shall not\nbe a swordless man, but it is likely that I shall have Warflame, that\nmighty weapon, the best of swords; and here I have a good spear.\"\n\nThese words seemed to them all a good omen, and as they rowed towards\nBathstead they saw a flock of ravens, which encouraged them yet more,\nsince the raven was the bird of Odin, the haunter of fields of strife\nand bloodshed.\n\nWhen they reached Bathstead they sprang on the jetty, carried their\nboat over the ridge of shingle to the quiet pool by the boathouse, and\nhid themselves where they could see, but remain themselves unseen.\nHoward took command, and appointed their places, bidding them be wary,\nand not stir till he gave the word.\n\n\nThorbiorn's Return\n\nLate that evening, just before dusk, Thorbiorn and Vakr came home,\nbringing their kinsmen with them, a party of ten in all. They had no\nsuspicion of any ambush, and Thorbiorn said to Vakr: \"It is a fine\nnight, and dry, Vakr; we will leave the boat here--she will take no\nhurt through the night--and thou shalt carry our swords and spears up\nto the boathouse.\"\n\nVakr obeyed, and bore all the weapons to the boathouse. Howard's men\nwould have slain him then but Howard forbade, and let him return to\nthe jetty for more armour. When Vakr had gone back Howard sent to the\nboathouse for the magic sword, Warflame; drawing it, he gripped it\nhard and brandished it, for he would fain avenge Olaf with the weapon\nwhich had slain him. When Vakr came towards the ambush a second time\nhe was laden with shields and helmets. Howard's men sprang up to take\nhim, and he turned to flee as he saw and heard them. But his foot\nslipped, and he fell into the pool, and lay there weighed down by all\nthe armour, till he died miserably--a fitting end for one so ignoble\nand cruel.\n\n\nThorbiorn's Death\n\nHoward's men shouted and waved their weapons, and ran down to the\nbeach to attack their enemies; but Thorbiorn, seeing them, flung\nhimself into the sea, swimming towards a small rocky islet. When\nHoward saw this he took Warflame between his teeth, and, old as he\nwas, plunged into the waves and pursued Thorbiorn. The latter had,\nhowever, a considerable start, and was both younger and stronger than\nhis adversary, so that he was already on the rock and prepared to dash\na huge stone at Howard, when the old man reached the islet. Now there\nseemed no hope for Howard, but still he clung fiercely to the rock and\nstrove to draw himself up on the land. Thorbiorn lifted the huge stone\nto cast at his foe, but his foot slipped on the wet rocks, and he fell\nbackward; before he could recover his footing Howard rushed forward\nand slew him with his own sword Warflame, striking out his teeth, as\nThorbiorn had done to Olaf.\n\n[Illustration: \"Thorbiorn lifted the huge stone\"]\n\nWhen Howard swam back to Bathstead, and they told him that in all\nsix of Thorbiorn's men were dead, while he had only lost one\nserving-man, he rejoiced greatly; but his vengeance was not satisfied\nuntil he had slain yet another brother of Thorbiorn's.\n\n\nSteinthor Shelters Howard\n\nThen, with the news of this great revenge to be told, Howard and his\nkinsmen took refuge with that Steinthor who had given him help and\nshelter during the Thing.\n\n\"Who are ye, and what tidings do ye bring?\" asked Steinthor as the\nlittle party of seven entered his hall.\n\n\"I am Howard, and these are my kinsmen,\" said Howard. \"We tell the\nslaying of Thorbiorn and his brothers, his nephews and his\nhouse-carles, eight in all.\"\n\nSteinthor exclaimed in surprise: \"Art thou that Howard, old and\nbedridden, who didst seem like to die last year at the Thing, and hast\nthou done these mighty deeds with only these youths to aid thee? This\nis a great marvel, nearly as wondrous as thy restoration to youth and\nhealth. Great enmity will ye have aroused against you!\"\n\nSaid Howard: \"Bethink thee that thou didst promise me thy help if I\nshould ever need it. Therefore have I come to thee now, because I have\nsome little need of aid.\"\n\nSteinthor laughed. \"A little help! When dost thou think thou wilt need\nmuch, if this be not the time? But bide ye all here in honour, and I\nwill set the matter right, since thou and these thy helpers have done\nso valiantly.\"\n\n\nThe Thing and Guest's Award\n\nHoward and his kinsmen abode long with their host, until the Thing met\nagain; then Steinthor rode away, leaving the uncle and nephews under\ngood safeguard. It was a great meeting, with many cases to judge.\nWhen the matter of the death of Thorbiorn's family was brought up\nSteinthor spoke on Howard's behalf, and offered to let Guest again\ngive judgment, since he had done so before. This offer was accepted by\nThorbiorn's surviving kinsfolk, and Guest, as before, gave a fair\naward.\n\nSince a threefold wergild was still due to Howard for the slaying of\nOlaf, three of the eight dead need not be paid for. Thorbiorn, Vakr,\nand that brother of his slain by Olaf should continue unatoned for,\nbecause they were evildoers, and fell in an unrighteous quarrel of\ntheir own seeking; moreover, the slaying of Howard's serving-man\ncancelled one wergild; there remained, therefore, but one wergild for\nHoward to pay--one hundred of silver--which was paid out of hand. In\naddition to this, Howard must change his dwelling, and his nephews\nmust travel abroad for some years. This sentence pleased all men\ngreatly, and they broke up the Thing in great content, and Howard rode\nhome at the head of a goodly company to his stout-hearted wife\nBiargey, who had kept his house and lands in good order all this time.\nThey made a great feast, and gave rich gifts to all their friends and\nkinsmen; then when the farewells were over the exiles went abroad and\ndid valiantly in Norway; but Howard sold his lands and moved to\nanother part of the island. There he prospered greatly; and when he\ndied his memory was handed down as that of a mighty warrior and a\nvaliant and prudent man.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII: ROLAND, THE HERO OF EARLY FRANCE\n\n\nThe Roland Legends\n\nCharles the Great, King of the Franks, world-famous as Charlemagne,\nwon his undying renown by innumerable victories for France and for the\nChurch. Charles as the head of the Holy Roman Empire and the Pope as\nthe head of the Holy Catholic Church equally dominated the imagination\nof the mediaeval world. Yet in romance Charlemagne's fame has been\neclipsed by that of his illustrious nephew and vassal, Roland, whose\ncrowning glory has sprung from his last conflict and heroic death in\nthe valley of Roncesvalles.\n\n \"Oh for a blast of that dread horn,\n On Fontarabian echoes borne,\n That to King Charles did come,\n When Roland brave, and Olivier,\n And every paladin and peer\n On Roncesvalles died.\"\n\n _Scott._\n\nBriefly, the historical facts are these: In A.D. 778 Charles was\nreturning from an expedition into Spain, where the dissensions of the\nMoorish rulers had offered him the chance of extending his borders\nwhile he fought for the Christian faith against the infidel. He had\ntaken Pampeluna, but had been checked before Saragossa, and had not\nventured beyond the Ebro; he was now making his way home through the\nPyrenees. When the main army had safely traversed the passes, the rear\nwas suddenly attacked by an overwhelming body of mountaineers, Gascons\nand Basques, who, resenting the violation of their mountain\nsanctuaries, and longing for plunder, drove the Frankish rearguard\ninto a little valley (now marked by the chapel of Ibagneta and still\ncalled Roncesvalles), and there slew every man.\n\n[Illustration: Charlemagne\n\nStella Langdale]\n\n\nThe Historic Basis\n\nThe whole romantic legend of Roland has sprung from the simple words\nin a contemporary chronicle, \"In which battle was slain Roland,\nprefect of the marches of Brittany.\"[12]\n\nThis same fight of Roncesvalles was the theme of an archaic poem, the\n\"Song of Altobiscar,\" written about 1835. In it we hear the exultation\nof the Basques as they see the knights of France fall beneath their\nonslaughts. The Basques are on the heights--they hear the trampling of\na mighty host which throngs the narrow valley below: its numbers are\nas countless as the sands of the sea, its movement as resistless as\nthe waves which roll those sands on the shore. Awe fills the bosoms of\nthe mountain tribesmen, but their leader is undaunted. \"Let us unite\nour strong arms!\" he cries aloud. \"Let us tear our rocks from their\nbeds and hurl them upon the enemy! Let us crush and slay them all!\" So\nsaid, so done: the rocks roll plunging into the valley, slaying whole\ntroops in their descent. \"And what mangled flesh, what broken bones,\nwhat seas of blood! Soon of that gallant band not one is left alive;\nnight covers all, the eagles devour the flesh, and the bones whiten in\nthis valley to all eternity!\"\n\n\nA Spanish Version\n\nSo runs the \"Song of Altobiscar.\" But Spain too claims part of the\nhonour of the day of Roncesvalles. True, Roland was in reality\nslain by Basques, not by Spaniards; but Spain, eager to share the\nhonour, has glorified a national hero, Bernardo del Carpio, who, in\nthe Spanish legend, defeats Roland in single combat and wins the day.\n\n\nThe Italian Orlando\n\nItaly has laid claim to Roland, and in the guise of Orlando, Orlando\nFurioso, Orlando Innamorato, has made him into a fantastic, chivalrous\nknight, a hero of many magical adventures.\n\n\nRoland in French Literature\n\nNoblest of all, however, is the development of the \"Roland Saga\" in\nFrench literature; for, even setting aside much legendary lore and\naccumulated tradition, the Roland of the old epic is a perfect hero of\nthe early days of feudalism, when chivalry was in its very beginnings,\nbefore the cult of the Blessed Virgin Mary added the grace of courtesy\nto its heroism. Evidently Roland had grown in importance before the\n\"Chanson de Roland\" took its present form, for we find the rearguard\nskirmish magnified into a great battle, which manifestly contains\nrecollections of later Saracen invasions and Gascon revolts. As befits\nthe hero of an epic, Roland is now of royal blood, the nephew of the\ngreat emperor, who has himself increased in age and splendour; this\nheroic Roland can obviously only be overcome by the treachery of one\nof the Franks themselves, so there appears the traitor Ganelon (a\nRomance version of a certain Danilo or Nanilo), who is among the\nTwelve Peers what Judas was among the Apostles; the mighty Saracens,\nnot the insignificant Basques, are now the victors; and the vengeance\ntaken by Charlemagne on the Saracens and on the traitor is boldly\nadded to history, which leaves the disaster unavenged. Thus the bare\nfact was embroidered over gradually by the historical imagination,\naided by patriotism, until a really national hero was evolved out of\nan obscure Breton count.\n\n\nThe \"Chanson de Roland\"\n\nThe \"Song of Roland,\" as we now have it, seems to be a late version of\nan Anglo-Norman poem, made by a certain Turoldus or Thorold; and it\nmust bear a close resemblance to that chant which fired the soldiers\nof William the Norman at Hastings, when\n\n \"Taillefer, the noble singer,\n On his war-horse swift and fiery,\n Rode before the Norman host;\n Tossed his sword in air and caught it,\n Chanted loud the death of Roland,\n And the peers who perished with him\n At the pass of Roncevaux.\"\n\n _Roman de Rou._\n\nThe \"Song of Roland\" bears an intimate relation to the development of\nEuropean thought, and the hero is doubly worth our study as hero and\nas type of national character. Thus runs the story:\n\n\nThe Story\n\nThe Emperor Charles the Great, Carolus Magnus, or Charlemagne, had\nbeen for seven years in Spain, and had conquered it from sea to sea,\nexcept Saragossa, which, among its lofty mountains, and ruled by its\nbrave king Marsile, had defied his power. Marsile still held to his\nidols, Mahomet, Apollo, and Termagaunt, dreading in his heart the day\nwhen Charles would force him to become a Christian.\n\n\nThe Saracen Council\n\nThe Saracen king gathered a council around him, as he reclined on a\nseat of blue marble in the shade of an orchard, and asked the advice\nof his wise men.\n\n \"'My lords,' quoth he, 'you know our grievous state.\n The mighty Charles, great lord of France the fair,\n Has spread his hosts in ruin o'er our land.\n No armies have I to resist his course,\n No people have I to destroy his hosts.\n Advise me now, what counsel shall I take\n To save my race and realm from death and shame?'\"\n\n\nBlancandrin's Advice\n\nA wily emir, Blancandrin, of Val-Fonde, was the only man who replied.\nHe was wise in counsel, brave in war, a loyal vassal to his lord.\n\n \"'Fear not, my liege,' he answered the sad king.\n 'Send thou to Charles the proud, the arrogant,\n And offer fealty and service true,\n With gifts of lions, bears, and swift-foot hounds,\n Seven hundred camels, falcons, mules, and gold--\n As much as fifty chariots can convey--\n Yea, gold enough to pay his vassals all.\n Say thou thyself will take the Christian faith,\n And follow him to Aix to be baptized.\n If he demands thy hostages, then I\n And these my fellows give our sons to thee,\n To go with Charles to France, as pledge of truth.\n Thou wilt not follow him, thou wilt not yield\n To be baptized, and so our sons must die;\n But better death than life in foul disgrace,\n With loss of our bright Spain and happy days.'\n So cried the pagans all; but Marsile sat\n Thoughtful, and yet at last accepted all.\"\n\n\nAn Embassy to Charlemagne\n\nNow King Marsile dismissed the council with words of thanks, only\nretaining near him ten of his most famous barons, chief of whom was\nBlancandrin; to them he said: \"My lords, go to Cordova, where Charles\nis at this time. Bear olive-branches in your hands, in token of peace,\nand reconcile me with him. Great shall be your reward if you succeed.\nBeg Charles to have pity on me, and I will follow him to Aix within a\nmonth, will receive the Christian law, and become his vassal in love\nand loyalty.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Blancandrin, \"you shall have a good treaty!\"\n\nThe ten messengers departed, bearing olive-branches in their hands,\nriding on white mules, with reins of gold and saddles of silver, and\ncame to Charles as he rested after the siege of Cordova, which he had\njust taken and sacked.\n\n\nReception by Charlemagne\n\nCharlemagne was in an orchard with his Twelve Peers and fifteen\nthousand veteran warriors of France. The messengers from the heathen\nking reached this orchard and asked for the emperor; their gaze\nwandered over groups of wise nobles playing at chess, and groups of\ngay youths fencing, till at last it rested on a throne of solid gold,\nset under a pine-tree and overshadowed with eglantine. There sat\nCharles, the king who ruled fair France, with white flowing beard and\nhoary head, stately of form and majestic of countenance. No need was\nthere of usher to cry: \"Here sits Charles the King.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Here sits Charles the King\"]\n\nThe ambassadors greeted Charlemagne with all honour, and Blancandrin\nopened the embassy thus:\n\n\"Peace be with you from God the Lord of Glory whom you adore! Thus\nsays the valiant King Marsile: He has been instructed in your faith,\nthe way of salvation, and is willing to be baptized; but you have been\ntoo long in our bright Spain, and should return to Aix. There will\nhe follow you and become your vassal, holding the kingdom of Spain at\nyour hand. Gifts have we brought from him to lay at your feet, for he\nwill share his treasures with you!\"\n\n\nHe is Perplexed\n\nCharlemagne raised his hands in thanks to God, but then bent his head\nand remained thinking deeply, for he was a man of prudent mind,\ncautious and far-seeing, and never spoke on impulse. At last he said\nproudly: \"Ye have spoken fairly, but Marsile is my greatest enemy: how\ncan I trust your words?\"\n\nBlancandrin replied: \"He will give hostages, twenty of our noblest\nyouths, and my own son will be among them. King Marsile will follow\nyou to the wondrous springs of Aix-la-Chapelle, and on the feast of\nSt. Michael will receive baptism in your court.\"\n\nThus the audience ended. The messengers were feasted in a pavilion\nraised in the orchard, and the night passed in gaiety and\ngood-fellowship.\n\n\nHe Consults his Twelve Peers\n\nIn the early morning Charlemagne arose and heard Mass; then, sitting\nbeneath a pine-tree, he called the Twelve Peers to council. There came\nthe twelve heroes, chief of them Roland and his loyal brother-in-arms\nOliver; there came Archbishop Turpin; and, among a thousand loyal\nFranks, there came Ganelon the traitor. When all were seated in due\norder Charlemagne began:\n\n\"My lords and barons, I have received an embassy of peace from King\nMarsile, who sends me great gifts and offers, but on condition that I\nleave Spain and return to Aix. Thither will he follow me, to receive\nthe Faith, become a Christian and my vassal. Is he to be trusted?\"\n\n\"Let us beware,\" cried all the Franks.\n\n\nRoland Speaks\n\nRoland, ever impetuous, now rose without delay, and spoke: \"Fair uncle\nand sire, it would be madness to trust Marsile. Seven years have we\nwarred in Spain, and many cities have I won for you, but Marsile has\never been treacherous. Once before when he sent messengers with\nolive-branches you and the French foolishly believed him, and he\nbeheaded the two counts who were your ambassadors to him. Fight\nMarsile to the end, besiege and sack Saragossa, and avenge those who\nperished by his treachery.\"\n\n\nGanelon Objects\n\nCharlemagne looked out gloomily from under his heavy brows, he twisted\nhis moustache and pulled his long white beard, but said nothing, and\nall the Franks remained silent, except Ganelon, whose hostility to\nRoland showed clearly in his words:\n\n\"Sire, blind credulity were wrong and foolish, but follow up your own\nadvantage. When Marsile offers to become your vassal, to hold Spain at\nyour hand and to take your faith, any man who urges you to reject such\nterms cares little for our death! Let pride no longer be your\ncounsellor, but hear the voice of wisdom.\"\n\nThe aged Duke Naimes, the Nestor of the army, spoke next, supporting\nGanelon: \"Sire, the advice of Count Ganelon is wise, if wisely\nfollowed. Marsile lies at your mercy; he has lost all, and only begs\nfor pity. It would be a sin to press this cruel war, since he offers\nfull guarantee by his hostages. You need only send one of your barons\nto arrange the terms of peace.\"\n\nThis advice pleased the whole assembly, and a murmur was heard: \"The\nDuke has spoken well.\"\n\n\n\"Who Shall Go to Saragossa?\"\n\n \"'My lords and peers, whom shall we send\n To Saragossa to Marsile?'\n 'Sire, let me go,' replied Duke Naimes;\n 'Give me your glove and warlike staff.'\n 'No!' cried the king, 'my counsellor,\n Thou shalt not leave me unadvised--\n Sit down again; I bid thee stay.'\n\n \"'My lords and peers, whom shall we send\n To Saragossa to Marsile?'\n 'Sire, I can go,' quoth Roland bold.\n 'That canst thou not,' said Oliver;\n 'Thy heart is far too hot and fierce--\n I fear for thee. But I will go,\n If that will please my lord the King.'\n 'No!' cried the king, 'ye shall not go.\n I swear by this white flowing beard\n No peer shall undertake the task.'\n\n \"'My lords and peers, whom shall we send?'\n Archbishop Turpin rose and spoke:\n 'Fair sire, let me be messenger.\n Your nobles all have played their part;\n Give me your glove and warlike staff,\n And I will show this heathen king\n In frank speech how a true knight feels.'\n But wrathfully the king replied:\n 'By this white beard, thou shalt not go!\n Sit down, and raise thy voice no more.'\"\n\n\nRoland Suggests Ganelon\n\n\"Knights of France,\" quoth Charlemagne, \"choose me now one of your\nnumber to do my errand to Marsile, and to defend my honour valiantly,\nif need be.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said Roland, \"then it must be Ganelon, my stepfather; for\nwhether he goes or stays, you have none better than he!\"\n\nThis suggestion satisfied all the assembly, and they cried: \"Ganelon\nwill acquit himself right manfully. If it please the King, he is the\nright man to go.\"\n\nCharlemagne thought for a moment, and then, raising his head, beckoned\nto Ganelon. \"Come hither, Ganelon,\" he said, \"and receive this glove\nand staff, which the voice of all the Franks gives to thee.\"\n\n\nGanelon is Angry\n\n\"No,\" replied Ganelon, wrathfully. \"This is the work of Roland, and I\nwill never forgive him, nor his friends, Oliver and the other Peers.\nHere, in your presence, I bid them defiance!\"\n\n\"Your anger is too great,\" said Charlemagne; \"you will go, since it is\nmy will also.\"\n\n\"Yes, I shall go, but I shall perish as did your two former\nambassadors. Sire, forget not that your sister is my wife, and that\nBaldwin, my son, will be a valiant champion if he lives. I leave to\nhim my lands and fiefs. Sire, guard him well, for I shall see him no\nmore.\"\n\n\"Your heart is too tender,\" said Charlemagne. \"You must go, since such\nis my command.\"\n\n\nHe Threatens Roland\n\nGanelon, in rage and anguish, glared round the council, and his face\ndrew all eyes, so fiercely he looked at Roland.\n\n\"Madman,\" said he, \"all men know that I am thy stepfather, and for\nthis cause thou hast sent me to Marsile, that I may perish! But if I\nreturn I will be revenged on thee.\"\n\n\"Madness and pride,\" Roland retorted, \"have no terrors for me; but\nthis embassy demands a prudent man not an angry fool: if Charles\nconsents, I will do his errand for thee.\"\n\n\"Thou shalt not. Thou art not my vassal, to do my work, and Charles,\nmy lord, has given me his commands. I go to Saragossa; but there will\nI find some way to vent my anger.\"\n\nNow Roland began to laugh, so wild did his stepfather's threats seem,\nand the laughter stung Ganelon to madness. \"I hate you,\" he cried to\nRoland; \"you have brought this unjust choice on me.\" Then, turning to\nthe emperor: \"Mighty lord, behold me ready to fulfil your commands.\"\n\n\nBut is Sent\n\n\"Fair Lord Ganelon,\" spoke Charlemagne, \"bear this message to Marsile.\nHe must become my vassal and receive holy baptism. Half of Spain shall\nbe his fief; the other half is for Count Roland. If Marsile does not\naccept these terms I will besiege Saragossa, capture the town, and\nlead Marsile prisoner to Aix, where he shall die in shame and torment.\nTake this letter, sealed with my seal, and deliver it into the king's\nown right hand.\"\n\nThereupon Charlemagne held out his right-hand glove to Ganelon, who\nwould fain have refused it. So reluctant was he to grasp it that the\nglove fell to the ground. \"Ah, God!\" cried the Franks, \"what an evil\nomen! What woes will come to us from this embassy!\" \"You shall hear\nfull tidings,\" quoth Ganelon. \"Now, sire, dismiss me, for I have no\ntime to lose.\" Very solemnly Charlemagne raised his hand and made the\nsign of the Cross over Ganelon, and gave him his blessing, saying,\n\"Go, for the honour of Jesus Christ, and for your Emperor.\" So\nGanelon took his leave, and returned to his lodging, where he prepared\nfor his journey, and bade farewell to the weeping retainers whom he\nleft behind, though they begged to accompany him. \"God forbid,\" cried\nhe, \"that so many brave knights should die! Rather will I die alone.\nYou, sirs, return to our fair France, greet well my wife, guard my son\nBaldwin, and defend his fief!\"\n\n\nHe Plots with Marsile's Messengers\n\nThen Ganelon rode away, and shortly overtook the ambassadors of the\nMoorish king, for Blancandrin had delayed their journey to accompany\nhim, and the two envoys began a crafty conversation, for both were\nwary and skilful, and each was trying to read the other's mind. The\nwily Saracen began:\n\n \"'Ah! what a wondrous king is Charles!\n How far and wide his conquests range!\n The salt sea is no bar to him:\n From Poland to far England's shores\n He stretches his unquestioned sway;\n But why seeks he to win bright Spain?'\n 'Such is his will,' quoth Ganelon;\n 'None can withstand his mighty power!'\n\n \"'How valiant are the Frankish lords\n But how their counsel wrongs their king\n To urge him to this long-drawn strife--\n They ruin both themselves and him!'\n 'I blame not them,' quoth Ganelon,\n 'But Roland, swollen with fatal pride.\n Near Carcassonne he brought the King\n An apple, crimson streaked with gold:\n \"Fair sire,\" quoth he, \"here at your feet\n I lay the crowns of all the kings.\"\n If he were dead we should have peace!'\n\n \"'How haughty must this Roland be\n Who fain would conquer all the earth!\n Such pride deserves due chastisement!\n What warriors has he for the task?'\n 'The Franks of France,' quoth Ganelon,\n 'The bravest warriors 'neath the sun!\n For love alone they follow him\n (Or lavish gifts which he bestows)\n To death, or conquest of the world!'\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Ganelon rode away\"]\n\n\nTo Betray Roland\n\nThe bitterness in Ganelon's tone at once struck: Blancandrin, who cast\na glance at him and saw the Frankish envoy trembling with rage. He\nsuddenly addressed Ganelon in whispered tones: \"Hast thou aught\nagainst the nephew of Charles? Wouldst thou have revenge on Roland?\nDeliver him to us, and King Marsile will share with thee all his\ntreasures.\" Ganelon was at first horrified, and refused to hear more,\nbut so well did Blancandrin argue and so skilfully did he lay his\nsnare that before they reached Saragossa and came to the presence of\nKing Marsile it was agreed that Roland should be destroyed by their\nmeans.\n\n\nGanelon with the Saracens\n\nBlancandrin and his fellow ambassadors conducted Ganelon into the\npresence of the Saracen king, and announced Charlemagne's peaceable\nreception of their message and the coming of his envoy. \"Let him\nspeak: we listen,\" said Marsile.\n\nGanelon then began artfully: \"Peace be to you in the name of the Lord\nof Glory whom we adore! This is the message of King Charles: You shall\nreceive the Holy Christian Faith, and Charles will graciously grant\nyou one-half of Spain as a fief; the other half he intends for his\nnephew Roland (and a haughty partner you will find him!). If you\nrefuse he will take Saragossa, lead you captive to Aix, and give you\nthere to a shameful death.\"\n\n\nMarsile's Anger\n\nMarsile's anger was so great at this insulting message that he sprang\nto his feet, and would have slain Ganelon with his gold-adorned\njavelin; but he, seeing this, half drew his sword, saying:\n\n \"'Sword, how fair and bright thou art!\n Come thou forth and view the light.\n Long as I can wield thee here\n Charles my Emperor shall not say\n That I die alone, unwept.\n Ere I fall Spain's noblest blood\n Shall be shed to pay my death.'\"\n\n\nThe Saracen Council\n\nHowever, strife was averted, and Ganelon received praise from all for\nhis bold bearing and valiant defiance of his king's enemy. When quiet\nwas restored he repeated his message and delivered the emperor's\nletter, which was found to contain a demand that the caliph, Marsile's\nuncle, should be sent, a prisoner, to Charles, in atonement for the\ntwo ambassadors foully slain before. The indignation of the Saracen\nnobles was intense, and Ganelon was in imminent danger, but, setting\nhis back against a pine-tree, he prepared to defend himself to the\nlast. Again the quarrel was stayed, and Marsile, taking his most\ntrusted leaders, withdrew to a secret council, whither, soon,\nBlancandrin led Ganelon. Here Marsile excused his former rage, and, in\nreparation, offered Ganelon a superb robe of marten's fur, which was\naccepted; and then began the tempting of the traitor. First demanding\na pledge of secrecy, Marsile pitied Charlemagne, so aged and so weary\nwith rule. Ganelon praised his emperor's prowess and vast power.\nMarsile repeated his words of pity, and Ganelon replied that as long\nas Roland and the Twelve Peers lived Charlemagne needed no man's pity\nand feared no man's power; his Franks, also, were the best living\nwarriors. Marsile declared proudly that he could bring four hundred\nthousand men against Charlemagne's twenty thousand French; but Ganelon\ndissuaded him from any such expedition.\n\n\nGanelon Plans Treachery\n\n \"'Not thus will you overcome him;\n Leave this folly, turn to wisdom.\n Give the Emperor so much treasure\n That the Franks will be astounded.\n Send him, too, the promised pledges,\n Sons of all your noblest vassals.\n To fair France will Charles march homeward,\n Leaving (as I will contrive it)\n Haughty Roland in the rearguard.\n Oliver, the bold and courteous,\n Will be with him: slay those heroes,\n And King Charles will fall for ever!'\n 'Fair Sir Ganelon,' quoth Marsile,\n 'How must I entrap Count Roland?'\n 'When King Charles is in the mountains\n He will leave behind his rearguard\n Under Oliver and Roland.\n Send against them half your army:\n Roland and the Peers will conquer,\n But be wearied with the struggle--\n Then bring on your untired warriors.\n France will lose this second battle,\n And when Roland dies, the Emperor\n Has no right hand for his conflicts--\n Farewell all the Frankish greatness!\n Ne'er again can Charles assemble\n Such a mighty host for conquest,\n And you will have peace henceforward!'\"\n\n\nWelcomed by Marsile\n\nMarsile was overjoyed at the treacherous advice and embraced and\nrichly rewarded the felon knight. The death of Roland and the Peers\nwas solemnly sworn between them, by Marsile on the book of the Law of\nMahomet, by Ganelon on the sacred relics in the pommel of his sword.\nThen, repeating the compact between them, and warning Ganelon against\ntreason to his friends, Marsile dismissed the treacherous envoy who\nhastened to return and put his scheme into execution.\n\n\nGanelon Returns to Charles\n\nIn the meantime Charles had retired as far as Valtierra, on his way to\nFrance, and there Ganelon found him, and delivered the tribute, the\nkeys of Saragossa, and a false message excusing the absence of the\ncaliph. He had, so Marsile said, put to sea with three hundred\nthousand warriors who would not renounce their faith, and all had been\ndrowned in a tempest, not four leagues from land. Marsile would obey\nKing Charles's commands in all other respects. \"Thank God!\" cried\nCharlemagne. \"Ganelon, you have done well, and shall be well\nrewarded!\"\n\n\nThe French Camp. Charles Dreams\n\nNow the whole Frankish army marched towards the Pyrenees, and, as\nevening fell, found themselves among the mountains, where Roland\nplanted his banner on the topmost summit, clear against the sky, and\nthe army encamped for the night; but the whole Saracen host had also\nmarched and encamped in a wood not far from the Franks. Meanwhile, as\nCharlemagne slept he had dreams of evil omen. Ganelon, in his dreams,\nseized the imperial spear of tough ash-wood, and broke it, so that\nthe splinters flew far and wide. In another dream he saw himself at\nAix attacked by a leopard and a bear, which tore off his right arm; a\ngreyhound came to his aid but he knew not the end of the fray, and\nslept unhappily.\n\n\nA Morning Council\n\nWhen morning light shone, and the army was ready to march, the\nclarions of the host sounded gaily, and Charlemagne called his barons\naround him.\n\n \"'My lords and Peers, ye see these strait defiles:\n Choose ye to whom the rearguard shall be given.'\n 'My stepson Roland,' straight quoth Ganelon.\n ''Mid all the Peers there is no braver knight:\n In him will lie the safety of your host.'\n Charles heard in wrath, and spoke in angry tones:\n 'What fiendish rage has prompted this advice?\n Who then will go before me in the van?'\n The traitor tarried not, but answered swift:\n 'Ogier the Dane will do that duty best.'\"\n\nWhen Roland heard that he was to command the rearguard he knew not\nwhether to be pleased or not. At first he thanked Ganelon for naming\nhim. \"Thanks, fair stepfather, for sending me to the post of danger.\nKing Charles shall lose no man nor horse through my neglect.\" But when\nGanelon replied sneeringly, \"You speak the truth, as I know right\nwell,\" Roland's gratitude turned to bitter anger, and he reproached\nthe villain. \"Ah, wretch! disloyal traitor! thou thinkest perchance\nthat I, like thee, shall basely drop the glove, but thou shalt see!\nSir King, give me your bow. I will not let my badge of office fall, as\nthou didst, Ganelon, at Cordova. No evil omen shall assail the host\nthrough me.\"\n\n\nRoland for the Rearguard\n\nCharlemagne was very loath to grant his request, but on the advice of\nDuke Naimes, most prudent of counsellors, he gave to Roland his bow,\nand offered to leave with him half the army. To this the champion\nwould not agree, but would only have twenty thousand Franks from fair\nFrance. Roland clad himself in his shining armour, laced on his lordly\nhelmet, girt himself with his famous sword Durendala, and hung round\nhis neck his flower-painted shield; he mounted his good steed\nVeillantif, and took in hand his bright lance with the white pennon\nand golden fringe; then, looking like the Archangel St. Michael, he\nrode forward, and easy it was to see how all the Franks loved him and\nwould follow where he led. Beside him rode the famous Peers of France,\nOliver the bold and courteous, the saintly Archbishop Turpin, and\nCount Gautier, Roland's loyal vassal. They chose carefully the twenty\nthousand French for the rearguard, and Roland sent Gautier with one\nthousand of their number to search the mountains. Alas! they never\nreturned, for King Almaris, a Saracen chief, met and slew them all\namong the hills; and only Gautier, sorely wounded and bleeding to\ndeath, returned to Roland in the final struggle.\n\nCharlemagne spoke a mournful \"Farewell\" to his nephew and the\nrearguard, and the mighty army began to traverse the gloomy ravine\nthrough the dark masses of rocks, and to emerge on the other side of\nthe Pyrenees. All wept, most for joy to set eyes on that dear land of\nfair France, which for seven years they had not seen; but Charles,\nwith a sad foreboding of disaster, hid his eyes beneath his cloak and\nwept in silence.\n\n\nCharles is Sad\n\n\"What grief weighs on your mind, sire?\" asked the wise Duke Naimes,\nriding up beside Charlemagne.\n\n\"I mourn for my nephew. Last night in a vision I saw Ganelon break my\ntrusty lance--this Ganelon who has sent Roland to the rear. And now I\nhave left Roland in a foreign land, and, O God! if I lose him I shall\nnever find his equal!\" And the emperor rode on in silence, seeing\nnaught but his own sad foreboding visions.\n\n\nThe Saracen Pursuit\n\nMeanwhile King Marsile, with his countless Saracens, had pursued so\nquickly that the van of the heathen army soon saw waving the banners\nof the Frankish rear. Then as they halted before the strife began, one\nby one the nobles of Saragossa, the champions of the Moors, advanced\nand claimed the right to measure themselves against the Twelve Peers\nof France. Marsile's nephew received the royal glove as chief\nchampion, and eleven Saracen chiefs took a vow to slay Roland and\nspread the faith of Mahomet.\n\n\"Death to the rearguard! Roland shall die! Death to the Peers! Woe to\nFrance and Charlemagne! We will bring the Emperor to your feet! You\nshall sleep at St. Denis! Down with fair France!\" Such were their\nconfident cries as they armed for the conflict; and on their side no\nless eager were the Franks.\n\n\"Fair Sir Comrade,\" said Oliver to Roland, \"methinks we shall have a\nfray with the heathen.\"\n\n\"God grant it,\" returned Roland. \"Our duty is to hold this pass for\nour king. A vassal must endure for his lord grief and pain, heat and\ncold, torment and death; and a knight's duty is to strike mighty\nblows, that men may sing of him, in time to come, no evil songs.\nNever shall such be sung of me.\"\n\n\nOliver Descries the Saracens\n\nHearing a great tumult, Oliver ascended a hill and looked towards\nSpain, where he perceived the great pagan army, like a gleaming sea,\nwith shining hauberks and helms flashing in the sun. \"Alas! we are\nbetrayed! This treason is plotted by Ganelon, who put us in the rear,\"\nhe cried. \"Say no more,\" said Roland; \"blame him not in this: he is my\nstepfather.\"\n\nNow Oliver alone had seen the might of the pagan array, and he was\nappalled by the countless multitudes of the heathens. He descended\nfrom the hill and appealed to Roland.\n\n\nRoland will not Blow his Horn\n\n \"'Comrade Roland, sound your war-horn,\n Your great Olifant, far-sounding:\n Charles will hear it and return here.'\n 'Cowardice were that,' quoth Roland;\n 'In fair France my fame were tarnished.\n No, these Pagans all shall perish\n When I brandish Durendala.'\n\n \"'Comrade Roland, sound your war-horn:\n Charles will hear it and return here.'\n 'God forbid it,' Roland answered,\n 'That it e'er be sung by minstrels\n I was asking help in battle\n From my King against these Pagans.\n I will ne'er do such dishonour\n To my kinsmen and my nation.\n No, these heathen all shall perish\n When I brandish Durendala.'\n\n \"'Comrade Roland, sound your war-horn\n Charles will hear it and return here.\n See how countless are the heathen\n And how small our Frankish troop is!'\n 'God forbid it,' answered Roland,\n 'That our fair France be dishonoured\n Or by me or by my comrades--\n Death we choose, but not dishonour!'\"\n\nRoland was a valiant hero, but Oliver had prudence as well as valour,\nand his advice was that of a good and careful general. Now he spoke\nreproachfully.\n\n\nIt is Too Late\n\n\"Ah, Roland, if you had sounded your magic horn the king would soon be\nhere, and we should not perish! Now look to the heights and to the\nmountain passes: see those who surround us. None of us will see the\nlight of another day!\"\n\n\"Speak not so foolishly,\" retorted Roland. \"Accursed be all cowards,\nsay I.\" Then, softening his tone a little, he continued: \"Friend and\ncomrade, say no more. The emperor has entrusted to us twenty thousand\nFrenchmen, and not a coward among them. Lay on with thy lance, Oliver,\nand I will strike with Durendala. If I die men shall say: 'This was\nthe sword of a noble vassal.'\"\n\n\nTurpin Blesses the Knights\n\nThen spoke the brave and saintly Archbishop Turpin. Spurring his\nhorse, he rode, a gallant figure, to the summit of a hill, whence he\ncalled aloud to the Frankish knights:\n\n \"'Fair sirs and barons, Charles has left us here\n To serve him, or at need to die for him.\n See, yonder come the foes of Christendom,\n And we must fight for God and Holy Faith.\n Now, say your shrift, and make your peace with Heaven;\n I will absolve you and will heal your souls;\n And if you die as martyrs, your true home\n Is ready midst the flowers of Paradise!'\"\n\nThe Frankish knights, dismounting, knelt before Turpin, who blessed\nand absolved them all, bidding them, as penance, to strike hard\nagainst the heathen.\n\nThen Roland called his brother-in-arms, the brave and courteous\nOliver, and said: \"Fair brother, I know now that Ganelon has betrayed\nus for reward and Marsile has bought us; but the payment shall be made\nwith our swords, and Charlemagne will terribly avenge us.\"\n\n\n\"Montjoie! Montjoie!\"\n\nWhile the two armies yet stood face to face in battle array Oliver\nreplied: \"What good is it to speak? You would not sound your horn, and\nCharles cannot help us; he is not to blame. Barons and lords, ride on\nand yield not. In God's name fight and slay, and remember the war-cry\nof our Emperor.\" And at the words the war-cry of \"Montjoie! Montjoie!\"\nburst from the whole army as they spurred against the advancing\nheathen host.\n\n\nThe Fray\n\nGreat was the fray that day, deadly was the combat, as the Moors and\nFranks crashed together, shouting their cries, invoking their gods or\nsaints, wielding with utmost courage sword, lance, javelin, scimitar,\nor dagger. Blades flashed, lances were splintered, helms were cloven\nin that terrible fight of heroes. Each of the Twelve Peers did mighty\nfeats of arms. Roland himself slew the nephew of King Marsile, who had\npromised to bring Roland's head to his uncle's feet, and bitter were\nthe words that Roland hurled at the lifeless body of his foe, who had\nbut just before boasted that Charlemagne should lose his right hand.\nOliver slew the heathen king's brother, and one by one the Twelve\nPeers proved their mettle on the twelve champions of King Marsile, and\nleft them dead or mortally wounded on the field. Wherever the battle\nwas fiercest and the danger greatest, where help was most needed,\nthere Roland spurred to the rescue, swinging Durendala, and, falling\non the heathen like a thunderbolt of war, turned the tide of battle\nagain and yet again.\n\n \"Red was Roland, red with bloodshed:\n Red his corselet, red his shoulders,\n Red his arm, and red his charger.\"\n\nLike the red god Mars he rode through the battle; and as he went he\nmet Oliver, with the truncheon or a spear in his grasp.\n\n \"'Friend, what hast thou there?' cried Roland.\n 'In this game 'tis not a distaff,\n But a blade of steel thou needest.\n Where is now Hauteclaire, thy good sword,\n Golden-hilted, crystal-pommeled?'\n 'Here,' said Oliver; 'so fight I\n That I have not time to draw it.'\n 'Friend,' quoth Roland, 'more I love thee\n Ever henceforth than a brother.'\"\n\n\nThe Saracens Perish\n\nThus the battle continued, most valiantly contested by both sides, and\nthe Saracens died by hundreds and thousands, till all their host lay\ndead but one man, who fled wounded, leaving the Frenchmen masters of\nthe field, but in sorry plight--broken were their swords and lances,\nrent their hauberks, torn and blood-stained their gay banners and\npennons, and many, many of their brave comrades lay lifeless. Sadly\nthey looked round on the heaps of corpses, and their minds were filled\nwith grief as they thought of their companions, of fair France which\nthey should see no more, and of their emperor who even now awaited\nthem while they fought and died for him. Yet they were not\ndiscouraged; loudly their cry re-echoed, \"Montjoie! Montjoie!\" as\nRoland cheered them on, and Turpin called aloud: \"Our men are heroes;\nno king under heaven has better. It is written in the Chronicles of\nFrance that in that great land it is our king's right to have valiant\nsoldiers.\"\n\n\nA Second Saracen Army\n\nWhile they sought in tears the bodies of their friends, the main army\nof the Saracens, under King Marsile in person, came upon them; for the\none fugitive who had escaped had urged Marsile to attack again at\nonce, while the Franks were still weary. The advice seemed good to\nMarsile, and he advanced at the head of a hundred thousand men, whom\nhe now hurled against the French in columns of fifty thousand at a\ntime; and they came on right valiantly, with clarions sounding and\ntrumpets blowing.\n\n \"'Soldiers of the Lord,' cried Turpin,\n 'Be ye valiant and steadfast,\n For this day shall crowns be given you\n Midst the flowers of Paradise.\n In the name of God our Saviour,\n Be ye not dismayed nor frighted,\n Lest of you be shameful legends\n Chanted by the tongue of minstrels.\n Rather let us die victorious,\n Since this eve shall see us lifeless!--\n Heaven has no room for cowards!\n Knights, who nobly fight, and vainly,\n Ye shall sit amid the holy\n In the blessed fields of Heaven.\n On then, Friends of God, to glory!'\"\n\nAnd the battle raged anew, with all the odds against the small handful\nof French, who knew they were doomed, and fought as though they were\n\"fey.\"[13]\n\n\nGloomy Portents\n\nMeanwhile the whole course of nature was disturbed. In France there\nwere tempests of wind and thunder, rain and hail; thunderbolts fell\neverywhere, and the earth shook exceedingly. From Mont St. Michel to\nCologne, from Besancon to Wissant, not one town could show its walls\nuninjured, not one village its houses unshaken. A terrible darkness\nspread over all the land, only broken when the heavens split asunder\nwith the lightning-flash. Men whispered in terror: \"Behold the end of\nthe world! Behold the great Day of Doom!\" Alas! they knew not the\ntruth: it was the great mourning for the death of Roland.\n\n\nMany French Knights Fall\n\nIn this second battle the French champions were weary, and before long\nthey began to fall before the valour of the newly arrived Saracen\nnobles. First died Engelier the Gascon, mortally wounded by the lance\nof that Saracen who swore brotherhood to Ganelon; next Samson, and the\nnoble Duke Anseis. These three were well avenged by Roland and Oliver\nand Turpin. Then in quick succession died Gerin and Gerier and other\nvaliant Peers at the hands of Grandoigne, until his death-dealing\ncareer was cut short by Durendala. Another desperate single combat was\nwon by Turpin, who slew a heathen emir \"as black as molten pitch.\"\n\n\nThe Second Army Defeated\n\nFinally this second host of the heathens gave way and fled, begging\nMarsile to come and succour them; but now of the victorious French\nthere were but sixty valiant champions left alive, including Roland,\nOliver, and the fiery prelate Turpin.\n\n\nA Third Appears\n\nNow the third host of the pagans began to roll forward upon the\ndauntless little band, and in the short breathing-space before the\nSaracens again attacked them Roland cried aloud to Oliver:\n\n \"'Fair Knight and Comrade, see these heroes,\n Valiant warriors, lying lifeless!\n I must mourn for our fair country\n France, left widowed of her barons.\n Charles my King, why art thou absent?\n Brother mine, how shall we send him\n Mournful tidings of our struggle?'\n 'How I know not,' said his comrade.\n 'Better death than vile dishonour.'\"\n\n\nRoland Willing to Blow his Horn\n\n \"'Comrade, I will blow my war-horn:\n Charles will hear it in the passes\n And return with all his army.'\n Oliver quoth: ''Twere disgraceful\n To your kinsmen all their life-days.\n When I urged it, then you would not;\n Now, to sound your horn is shameful,\n And I never will approve it.'\"\n\n\nOliver Objects. They Quarrel\n\n \"'See, the battle goes against us:\n Comrade, I shall sound my war-horn.'\n Oliver replied: 'O coward!\n When I urged it, then you would not.\n If fair France again shall greet me\n You shall never wed my sister;\n By this beard of mine I swear it!'\n\n \"'Why so bitter and so wrathful?'\n Oliver returned: ''Tis thy fault;\n Valour is not kin to madness,\n Temperance knows naught of fury.\n You have killed these noble champions,\n You have slain the Emperor's vassals,\n You have robbed us of our conquests.\n Ah, your valour, Count, is fatal!\n Charles must lose his doughty heroes,\n And your league with me must finish\n With this day in bitter sorrow.'\"\n\n\nTurpin Mediates\n\nArchbishop Turpin heard the dispute, and strove to calm the angry\nheroes. \"Brave knights, be not so enraged. The horn will not save the\nlives of these gallant dead, but it will be better to sound it, that\nCharles, our lord and emperor, may return, may avenge our death and\nweep over our corpses, may bear them to fair France, and bury them in\nthe sanctuary, where the wild beasts shall not devour them.\" \"That is\nwell said,\" quoth Roland and Oliver.\n\n\nThe Horn is Blown\n\nThen at last Roland put the carved ivory horn, the magic Olifant, to\nhis lips, and blew so loudly that the sound echoed thirty leagues\naway. \"Hark! our men are in combat!\" cried Charlemagne; but Ganelon\nretorted: \"Had any but the king said it, that had been a lie.\"\n\nA second time Roland blew his horn, so violently and with such anguish\nthat the veins of his temples burst, and the blood flowed from his\nbrow and from his mouth. Charlemagne, pausing, heard it again, and\nsaid: \"That is Roland's horn; he would not sound it were there no\nbattle.\" But Ganelon said mockingly: \"There is no battle, for Roland\nis too proud to sound his horn in danger. Besides, who would dare to\nattack Roland, the strong, the valiant, great and wonderful Roland? No\nman. He is doubtless hunting, and laughing with the Peers. Your\nwords, my liege, do but show how old and weak and doting you are. Ride\non, sire; the open country lies far before you.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Charlemagne heard it again\"]\n\nWhen Roland blew the horn for the third time he had hardly breath to\nawaken the echoes; but still Charlemagne heard. \"How faintly comes the\nsound! There is death in that feeble blast!\" said the emperor; and\nDuke Naimes interrupted eagerly: \"Sire, Roland is in peril; some one\nhas betrayed him--doubtless he who now tries to beguile you! Sire,\nrouse your host, arm for battle, and ride to save your nephew.\"\n\n\nGanelon Arrested\n\nThen Charlemagne called aloud: \"Hither, my men. Take this traitor\nGanelon and keep him safe till my return.\" And the kitchen folk seized\nthe felon knight, chained him by the neck, and beat him; then, binding\nhim hand and foot, they flung him on a sorry nag, to be borne with\nthem till Charles should demand him at their hands again.\n\n\nCharles Returns\n\nWith all speed the whole army retraced their steps, turning their\nfaces to Spain, and saying: \"Ah, if we could find Roland alive what\nblows we would strike for him!\" Alas! it was too late! Too late!\n\nHow lofty are the peaks, how vast and shadowy the mountains! How dim\nand gloomy the passes, how deep the valleys! How swift the rushing\ntorrents! Yet with headlong speed the Frankish army hastens back, with\ntrumpets sounding in token of approaching help, all praying God to\npreserve Roland till they come. Alas! they cannot reach him in time!\nToo late. Too late!\n\n\nRoland Weeps for his Comrades\n\nNow Roland cast his gaze around on hill and valley, and saw his noble\nvassals and comrades lie dead. As a noble knight he wept for them,\nsaying:\n\n \"'Fair Knights, may God have mercy on your souls!\n May He receive you into Paradise\n And grant you rest on banks of heavenly flowers!\n Ne'er have I known such mighty men as you.\n Fair France, that art the best of all dear lands,\n How art thou widowed of thy noble sons!\n Through me alone, dear comrades, have you died,\n And yet through me no help nor safety comes.\n God have you in His keeping! Brother, come,\n Let us attack the heathen and win death,\n Or grief will slay me! Death is duty now.'\"\n\n\nHe Fights Desperately\n\nSo saying, he rushed into the battle, slew the only son of King\nMarsile, and drove the heathen before him as the hounds drive the\ndeer. Turpin saw and applauded. \"So should a good knight do, wearing\ngood armour and riding a good steed. He must deal good strong strokes\nin battle, or he is not worth a groat. Let a coward be a monk in some\ncloister and pray for the sins of us fighters.\"\n\nMarsile in wrath attacked the slayer of his son, but in vain; Roland\nstruck off his right hand, and Marsile fled back mortally wounded to\nSaragossa, while his main host, seized with panic, left the field to\nRoland. However, the caliph, Marsile's uncle, rallied the ranks, and,\nwith fifty thousand Saracens, once more came against the little troop\nof Champions of the Cross, the three poor survivors of the rearguard.\n\nRoland cried aloud: \"Now shall we be martyrs for our faith. Fight\nboldly, lords, for life or death! Sell yourselves dearly! Let not fair\nFrance be dishonoured in her sons. When the Emperor sees us dead with\nour slain foes around us he will bless our valour.\"\n\n\nOliver Falls\n\nThe pagans were emboldened by the sight of the three alone, and the\ncaliph, rushing at Oliver, pierced him from behind with his lance. But\nthough mortally wounded Oliver retained strength enough to slay the\ncaliph, and to cry aloud: \"Roland! Roland! Aid me!\" then he rushed on\nthe heathen army, doing heroic deeds and shouting \"Montjoie!\nMontjoie!\" while the blood ran from his wound and stained the earth\nblood-red. At this woeful sight Roland swooned with grief, and Oliver,\nfaint from loss of blood, and with eyes dimmed by fast-coming death,\ndistinguished not the face of his dear friend; he saw only a vague\nfigure drawing near, and, mistaking it for an enemy, raised his sword\nHauteclaire and gave Roland one last terrible blow, which clove the\nhelmet, but harmed not the head. The blow roused Roland from his\nswoon, and, gazing tenderly at Oliver, he gently asked him:\n\n \"'Comrade and brother, was that blow designed\n To slay your Roland, him who loves you so?\n There is no vengeance you would wreak on me.'\n 'Roland, I hear you speak, but see you not.\n God guard and keep you, friend; but pardon me\n The blow I struck, unwitting, on your head.'\n 'I have no hurt,' said Roland; 'I forgive\n Here and before the judgment-throne of God.'\"\n\n\nAnd Dies\n\nNow Oliver felt the pains of death come upon him. Both sight and\nhearing were gone, his colour fled, and, dismounting, he lay upon the\nearth; there, humbly confessing his sins, he begged God to grant him\nrest in Paradise, to bless his lord Charlemagne and the fair land of\nFrance, and to keep above all men his comrade Roland, his best-loved\nbrother-in-arms. This ended, he fell back, his heart failed, his head\ndrooped low, and Oliver the brave and courteous knight lay dead on the\nblood-stained earth, with his face turned to the east. Roland lamented\nhim in gentle words: \"Comrade, alas for thy valour! Many days and\nyears have we been comrades: no ill didst thou to me, nor I to thee:\nnow thou art dead, 'tis pity that I live!\"\n\n\nTurpin is Mortally Wounded. The Horn Again\n\nTurpin and Roland now stood together for a time and were joined by the\nbrave Count Gautier, whose thousand men had been slain, and he himself\ngrievously wounded; he now came, like a loyal vassal, to die with his\nlord Roland, and was slain in the first discharge of arrows which the\nSaracens shot. Taught by experience, the pagans kept their distance,\nand wounded Turpin with four lances, while they stood some yards away\nfrom the heroes. But when Turpin felt himself mortally wounded he\nplunged into the throng of the heathen, killing four hundred before he\nfell, and Roland fought on with broken armour, and with ever-bleeding\nhead, till in a pause of the deadly strife he took his horn and again\nsent forth a feeble dying blast.\n\n\nCharles Answers the Horn\n\nCharlemagne heard it, and was filled with anguish. \"Lords, all goes\nill: I know by the sound of Roland's horn he has not long to live!\nRide on faster, and let all our trumpets sound, in token of our\napproach.\" Then sixty thousand trumpets sounded, so that mountains\nechoed it and valleys replied, and the heathen heard it and trembled.\n\"It is Charlemagne! Charles is coming!\" they cried. \"If Roland lives\ntill he comes the war will begin again, and our bright Spain is\nlost.\" Thereupon four hundred banded together to slay Roland; but he\nrushed upon them, mounted on his good steed Veillantif, and the\nvaliant pagans fled. But while Roland dismounted to tend the dying\narchbishop they returned and cast darts from afar, slaying Veillantif,\nthe faithful war-horse, and piercing the hero's armour. Still nearer\nand nearer sounded the clarions of Charlemagne's army in the defiles,\nand the Saracen host fled for ever, leaving Roland alone, on foot,\nexpiring, amid the dying and the dead.\n\n\nTurpin Blesses the Dead\n\nRoland made his way to Turpin, unlaced his golden helmet, took off his\nhauberk, tore his own tunic to bind up his grievous wounds, and then\ngently raising the prelate, carried him to the fresh green grass,\nwhere he most tenderly laid him down.\n\n \"'Ah, gentle lord,' said Roland, 'give me leave\n To carry here our comrades who are dead,\n Whom we so dearly loved; they must not lie\n Unblest; but I will bring their corpses here\n And thou shalt bless them, and me, ere thou die.'\n 'Go,' said the dying priest, 'but soon return.\n Thank God! the victory is yours and mine!'\"\n\nWith great pain and many delays Roland traversed the field of\nslaughter, looking in the faces of the dead, till he had found and\nbrought to Turpin's feet the bodies of the eleven Peers, last of all\nOliver, his own dear friend and brother, and Turpin blessed and\nabsolved them all. Now Roland's grief was so deep and his weakness so\ngreat that he swooned where he stood, and the archbishop saw him fall\nand heard his cry of pain. Slowly and painfully Turpin struggled to\nhis feet, and, bending over Roland, took Olifant, the curved ivory\nhorn; inch by inch the dying archbishop tottered towards a little\nmountain stream, that the few drops he could carry might revive\nRoland.\n\n\nHe Dies\n\nHowever, his weakness overcame him before he reached the water, and he\nfell forward dying. Feebly he made his confession, painfully he joined\nhis hands in prayer, and as he prayed his spirit fled. Turpin, the\nfaithful champion of the Cross, in teaching and in battle, died in the\nservice of Charlemagne. May God have mercy on his soul!\n\nWhen Roland awoke from his swoon he looked for Turpin, and found him\ndead, and, seeing Olifant, he guessed what the archbishop's aim had\nbeen, and wept for pity. Crossing the fair white hands over Turpin's\nbreast, he sadly prayed:\n\n \"'Alas! brave priest, fair lord of noble birth,\n Thy soul I give to the great King of Heaven!\n No mightier champion has He in His hosts,\n No prophet greater to maintain the Faith,\n No teacher mightier to convert mankind\n Since Christ's Apostles walked upon the earth!\n May thy fair soul escape the pains of Hell\n And Paradise receive thee in its bowers!'\"\n\n\nRoland's Last Fight\n\nNow death was very near to Roland, and he felt it coming upon him\nwhile he yet prayed and commended himself to his guardian angel\nGabriel. Taking in one hand Olifant, and in the other his good sword\nDurendala, Roland climbed a little hill, one bowshot within the realm\nof Spain. There under two pine-trees he found four marble steps, and\nas he was about to climb them, fell swooning on the grass very near\nhis end. A lurking Saracen, who had feigned death, stole from his\ncovert, and, calling aloud, \"Charles's nephew is vanquished! I will\nbear his sword back to Arabia,\" seized Durendala as it lay in Roland's\ndying clasp. The attempt roused Roland, and he opened his eyes,\nsaying, \"Thou art not of us,\" then struck such a blow with Olifant on\nthe helm of the heathen thief that he fell dead before his intended\nvictim.\n\n\nHe Tries to Break his Sword\n\nPale, bleeding, dying, Roland struggled to his feet, bent on saving\nhis good blade from the defilement of heathen hands. He grasped\nDurendala, and the brown marble before him split beneath his mighty\nblows; but the good sword stood firm, the steel grated but did not\nbreak, and Roland lamented aloud that his famous sword must now become\nthe weapon of a lesser man. Again Roland smote with Durendala, and\nclove the block of sardonyx, but the good steel only grated and did\nnot break, and the hero bewailed himself aloud, saying, \"Alas! my good\nDurendala, how bright and pure thou art! How thou flamest in the\nsunbeams, as when the angel brought thee! How many lands hast thou\nconquered for Charles my King, how many champions slain, how many\nheathen converted! Must I now leave thee to the pagans? May God spare\nfair France this shame!\" A third time Roland raised the sword and\nstruck a rock of blue marble, which split asunder, but the steel only\ngrated--it would not break; and the hero knew that he could do no\nmore.\n\n\nHis Last Prayer\n\nThen he flung himself on the ground under a pine-tree with his face to\nthe earth, his sword and Olifant beneath him, his face to the foe,\nthat Charlemagne and the Franks might see when they came that he died\nvictorious. He made his confession, prayed for mercy, and offered to\nHeaven his glove, in token of submission for all his sins. \"_Mea\nculpa!_ O God! I pray for pardon for all my sins, both great and\nsmall, that I have sinned from my birth until this day.\" So he held up\ntowards Heaven his right-hand glove, and the angels of God descended\naround him. Again Roland prayed:\n\n \"'O very Father, who didst never lie,\n Didst bring St. Lazarus from the dead again,\n Didst save St. Daniel from the lion's mouth,\n Save Thou my soul and keep it from all ills\n That I have merited by all my sins!'\"\n\n\nHe Dies\n\nAgain he held up to Heaven his glove, and St. Gabriel received it;\nthen, with head bowed and hands clasped, the hero died, and the\nwaiting cherubim, St. Raphael, St. Michael, and St. Gabriel, bore his\nsoul to Paradise.\n\nSo died Roland and the Peers of France.\n\n\nCharles Arrives\n\nSoon after Roland's heroic spirit had passed away the emperor came\ngalloping out of the mountains into the valley of Roncesvalles, where\nnot a foot of ground was without its burden of death.\n\nLoudly he called: \"Fair nephew, where art thou? Where is the\narchbishop? And Count Oliver? Where are the Peers?\"\n\nAlas! of what avail was it to call? No man replied, for all were dead;\nand Charlemagne wrung his hands, and tore his beard and wept, and his\narmy bewailed their slain comrades, and all men thought of vengeance.\nTruly a fearful vengeance did Charles take, in that terrible battle\nwhich he fought the next day against the Emir of Babylon, come from\noversea to help his vassal Marsile, when the sun stood still in heaven\nthat the Christians might be avenged on their enemies; in the capture\nof Saragossa and the death of Marsile, who, already mortally wounded,\nturned his face to the wall and died when he heard of the defeat of\nthe emir; but when vengeance was taken on the open enemy Charlemagne\nthought of mourning, and returned to Roncesvalles to seek the body of\nhis beloved nephew.\n\nThe emperor knew well that Roland would be found before his men, with\nhis face to the foe. Thus he advanced a bowshot from his companions\nand climbed a little hill, there found the little flowery meadow\nstained red with the blood of his barons, and there at the summit,\nunder the trees, lay the body of Roland on the green grass. The broken\nblocks of marble bore traces of the hero's dying efforts, and\nCharlemagne raised Roland, and, clasping the hero in his arms,\nlamented over him.\n\n\nHis Lament\n\n \"'The Lord have mercy, Roland, on thy soul!\n Never again shall our fair France behold\n A knight so worthy, till France be no more!\n\n \"'The Lord have mercy, Roland, on thy soul!\n That thou mayest rest in flowers of Paradise\n With all His glorious Saints for evermore!\n My honour now will lessen and decay,\n My days be spent in grief for lack of thee,\n My joy and power will vanish. There is none,\n Comrade or kinsman, to maintain my cause.\n\n \"'The Lord have mercy, Roland, on thy soul!\n And grant thee place in Paradise the blest,\n Thou valiant youth, thou mighty conqueror!\n How widowed lies our fair France and how lone\n How will the realms that I have swayed rebel\n Now thou art taken from my weary age!\n So deep my woe that fain would I die too\n And join my valiant Peers in Paradise\n While men inter my weary limbs with thine!'\"[14]\n\n\nThe Dead Buried\n\nThe French army buried the dead with all honour, where they had\nfallen, except the bodies of Roland, Oliver, and Turpin, which were\ncarried to Blaye, and interred in the great cathedral there; and then\nCharlemagne returned to Aix.\n\n\nAude the Fair\n\nAs Charles the Great entered his palace a beauteous maiden met him,\nAude the Fair, the sister of Oliver and betrothed bride of Roland. She\nasked eagerly:\n\n\"Where is Roland the mighty captain, who swore to take me for his\nbride?\"\n\n[Illustration: Aude the Fair\n\nEvelyn Paul]\n\n\"Alas! dear sister and friend,\" said Charlemagne, weeping and tearing\nhis long white beard, \"thou askest tidings of the dead. But I will\nreplace him: thou shalt have Louis, my son, Count of the Marches.\"\n\n\"These words are strange,\" exclaimed Aude the Fair. \"God and all His\nsaints and angels forbid that I should live when Roland my love is\ndead.\" Thereupon she lost her colour and fell at the emperor's feet;\nhe thought her fainting, but she was dead. God have mercy on her soul!\n\n\nThe Traitor Put to Death\n\nToo long it would be to tell of the trial of Ganelon the traitor.\nSuffice it that he was torn asunder by wild horses, and his name\nremains in France a byword for all disloyalty and treachery.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[12] _See_ \"Myths and Legends of the Middle Ages,\" by H. Guerber.\n\n[13] Marked out for death.\n\n[14] The poetical quotations are from the \"Chanson de Roland.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII: THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN\n\n\nCeltic Mysticism\n\nIn all Celtic literature there is recognisable a certain spirit which\nseems to be innate in the very character of the people, a spirit of\nmysticism and acknowledgment of the supernatural. It carries with it a\nlove of Nature, a delight in beauty, colour and harmony, which is\ncommon to all the Celtic races. But with these characteristics we find\nin Ireland a spiritual beauty, a passion of self-sacrifice, unknown in\nWales or Brittany. Hence the early Irish heroes are frequently found\nrenouncing advantages, worldly honour, and life itself, at the bidding\nof some imperative moral impulse. They are the knights-errant of early\nEuropean chivalry which was a much deeper and more real inspiration\nthan the carefully cultivated artificial chivalry of centuries later.\nCuchulain, Diarmuit, Naesi all pay with their lives for their\nobedience to the dictates of honour and conscience. And in women, for\nwhom in those early days sacrifice of self was the only way of\nheroism, the surrender even of eternal bliss was only the sublimation\nof honour and chivalry; and this was the heroism of the Countess\nCathleen.\n\n\nThe Cathleen Legend\n\nThe legend is old, so old that its root has been lost and we know not\nwho first imagined it; but the idea, the central incident, doubtless\ngoes back to Druid times, when a woman might well have offered herself\nup to the cruel gods to avert their wrath and stay the plagues which\nfell upon her people. Under a like impulse Curtius sprang into the\ngulf in the Forum, and Decius devoted himself to death to win the\nsafety of the Roman army. In each case the powers, evil or\nbeneficent, were supposed to be appeased by the offering of a human\nlife. When Christianity found this legend of sacrifice popular among\nthe heathen nations, it was comparatively easy to adopt it and give it\na yet wider scope, by making the sacrifice spiritual rather than\nphysical, and by finally rewarding the hero with heavenly joys. It is\nto be noted, too, that even at this early period there is a certain\nglorification of chicanery: the fiend fulfils his side of the\ncontract, but God Himself breaks the other side. This becomes a\nregular feature in all tales that relate dealings with the Evil One:\nall Devil's Bridges, Devil's Dykes, and the Faust legends show that\nSatan may be trusted to keep his word, while the saints invariably\nkept the letter and broke the spirit. To so primitive a tale as that\nof \"The Countess Cathleen\" the pettifogging quibbles of later saints\nare utterly unknown: God saves her soul because it is His will to\nreward such abnegation of self, and even the Evil One dare not\nquestion the Divine Will.\n\n\nThe Story. Happy Ireland\n\nOnce, long ago, as the Chronicles tell us, Ireland was known\nthroughout Europe as \"The Isle of Saints,\" for St. Patrick had not\nlong before preached the Gospel, the message of good tidings, to the\nwarring inhabitants, to tribes of uncivilised Celts, and to marauding\nDanes and Vikings. He had driven out the serpent-worshippers, and\nconsecrated the Black Stone of Tara to the worship of the True God; he\nhad convinced the High King of the truth and reasonableness of the\ndoctrine of the Trinity by the illustration of the shamrock leaf, and\nhad overthrown the great idols and purified the land. Therefore the\nfair shores and fertile vales of Erin, the clustered islets, dropped\nlike jewels in the azure seas, the mist-covered, heather-clad\nhill-sides, even the barren mountain-tops and the patches of firm\nground scattered in the solitudes of fathomless bogs, were homes of\npious Culdee or lonely hermit. There was still strife in Ireland, for\nking fought with king, and heathen marauders still vexed the land; but\nmany warlike Irish clans or \"septs\" turned their ardour for fight to\nreligious conflicts, and often every man of a tribe became a monk, so\nthat great abbeys and tribal monasteries and schools were built on the\nhills where, in former days, stood the chieftain's stronghold (_rath_\nor _dun_, as Irish legends name it), with its earth mounds and wooden\npalisades. Holy psalms and chants replaced the boastful songs of the\nold bards, whilst warriors accustomed to regard fighting and hunting\nas the only occupations worthy of a free-born man, now peacefully\nilluminated manuscripts or wrought at useful handicrafts. Yet still in\nsecret they dreaded and tried to appease the wrath of the Dagda,\nBrigit of the Holy Fire, AEngus the Ever-Young, and the awful Washers\nof the Ford, the Choosers of the Slain; and to this dread was now\njoined the new fear of the cruel demons who obeyed Satan, the Prince\nof Evil.\n\n\nThe Young Countess\n\nAt this time there dwelt in Ireland the Countess Cathleen, young,\ngood, and beautiful. Her eyes were as deep, as changeful, and as pure\nas the ocean that washed Erin's shores; her yellow hair, braided in\ntwo long tresses, was as bright as the golden circlet on her brow or\nthe yellow corn in her garners; and her step was as light and proud\nand free as that of the deer in her wide domains. She lived in a\nstately castle in the midst of great forests, with the cottages of her\ntribesmen around her gates, and day by day and year by year she\nwatched the changing glories of the mighty woods, as the seasons\nbrought new beauties, till her soul was as lovely as the green woods\nand purple hills around. The Countess Cathleen loved the dim,\nmysterious forest, she loved the tales of the ancient gods, and of\n\n \"Old, unhappy, far-off things,\n And battles long ago;\"\n\n _Wordsworth._\n\nbut more than all she loved her clansmen and vassals: she prayed for\nthem at all the holy hours, and taught and tended them with loving\ncare, so that in no place in Ireland could be found a happier tribe\nthan that which obeyed her gentle rule.\n\n\nDearth and Famine\n\nOne year there fell upon Ireland, erewhile so happy, a great\ndesolation--\"For Scripture saith, an ending to all good things must\nbe\"[15]--and the happiness of the Countess Cathleen's tribe came to an\nend in this wise: A terrible famine fell on the land; the seed-corn\nrotted in the ground, for rain and never-lifting mists filled the\nheavy air and lay on the sodden earth; then when spring came barren\nfields lay brown where the shooting corn should be; the cattle died in\nthe stall or fell from weakness at the plough, and the sheep died of\nhunger in the fold; as the year passed through summer towards autumn\nthe berries failed in the sun-parched woods, and the withered leaves,\nfallen long before the time, lay rotting on the dank earth; the timid\nwild things of the forest, hares, rabbits, squirrels, died in their\nholes or fell easy victims to the birds and beasts of prey; and these,\nin their turn, died of hunger in the famine-stricken forests.\n\n \"I searched all day: the mice and rats and hedgehogs\n Seemed to be dead, and I could hardly hear\n A wing moving in all the famished woods.\"[16]\n\n\nDistress of the Peasants\n\nA cry of bitter agony and lamentation rose from the starving Isle of\nSaints to the gates of Heaven, and fell back unheard; the sky was hard\nas brass above and the earth was barren beneath, and men and women\ndied in despair, their shrivelled lips still stained green by the\ndried grass and twigs they had striven to eat.\n\n \"I passed by Margaret Nolan's: for nine days\n Her mouth was green with dock and dandelion;\n And now they wake her.\"\n\n\nThe Misery Increases\n\nIn vain the High King of Ireland proclaimed a universal peace, and\nwars between quarrelling tribes stopped and foreign pirates ceased to\nmolest the land, and chief met chief in the common bond of misery; in\nvain the rich gave freely of their wealth--soon there was no\ndistinction between rich and poor, high and low, chief and vassal, for\nall alike felt the grip of famine, all died by the same terrible\nhunger. Soon many of the great monasteries lay desolate, their stores\nexhausted, their portals open, while the brethren, dead within, had\nnone to bury them; the lonely hermits died in their little\nbeehive-shaped cells, or fled from the dreadful solitude to gather in\nsome wealthy abbey which could still feed its monks; and isle and vale\nwhich had echoed their holy chants knew the sounds no more. Over all,\nunlifting, unchanging, brooded the deadly vapour, bearing the plague\nin its heavy folds, and filling the air with a sultry lurid haze.\n\n \"There is no sign of change--day copies day,\n Green things are dead--the cattle too are dead\n Or dying--and on all the vapour hangs\n And fattens with disease, and glows with heat.\"\n\n\nCathleen Heartbroken for her People\n\nRound the castle of the Countess Cathleen there was great stir and\nbustle, for her tender heart was wrung with the misery of her people,\nand her prayers for them ascended to God unceasingly. So thin she grew\nand so worn that the physicians bade her servants bring harp and song\nto charm away the sadness that weighed upon her spirit; but all in\nvain! Neither the well-loved legends of the ancient gods, nor her\nharp, nor the voice of her bards could bring her relief--nothing but\nthe attempt to save her people. From the earliest days of the famine\nher house and her stores were ever ready to supply the wants of the\nhomeless, the poor, the suffering; her wealth was freely spent for\nfood for the starving while supplies could yet be bought either near\nor in distant baronies; and when known supplies failed her lavish\noffers tempted the churlish farmers, who still hoarded grain that they\nmight enrich themselves in the great dearth, to sell some of their\ngarnered stores. When she could no longer induce them to part with\ntheir grain, her own winter provisions, wine and corn, were\ndistributed generously to all who asked for relief, and none ever left\nher castle without succour.\n\n\nHer Wide Charity\n\nThus passed the early months of bitter starvation, and the Countess\nCathleen's name was borne far and wide through Ireland, accompanied\nwith the blessings of all the rescued; and round her castle, from\nevery district, gathered a mighty throng of poor--not only her own\nclansmen--who all looked to her for a daily dole of food and drink to\nkeep some life in them until the pestilential mists should pass away.\nThe wholesome cold of winter would purify the air and bring new hope\nand promise of new life in the coming year. Alas! the winter drew on\napace and still the poisonous yellow vapours hung heavily over the\nland, and still the deadly famine clutched each feeble heart and\nweakened the very springs of life, and the winter frosts slew more\nthan the summer heats, so feeble were the people and so weakened.\n\n\nLawlessness Breaks Out\n\nAt last, even in the Isle of Saints, the bonds of right and wrong were\nloosened, all respect for property vanished in the universal\ndesolation, and men began to rob and plunder, to trust only to the\nright of might, thinking that their poor miserable lives were of more\nvalue than aught else, than conscience and pity and honesty. Thus\nCathleen lost by barefaced robbery much of what she still possessed of\nflocks and herds, of scanty fruit and corn. Her servants would gladly\nhave pursued the robbers and regained the spoils, but Cathleen forbade\nit, for she pitied the miserable thieves, and thought no evil of them\nin this bitter dearth. By this time she had distributed all her winter\nstores, and had only enough to feed her poor pensioners and her\nhousehold with most scanty rations; and she herself shared equally\nwith them, for the most earnest entreaties of her faithful servants\ncould not induce her to fare better than they in anything. Soon there\nwould be nothing left for daily distribution, and her heart almost\nbroke as she saw the misery of her helpless dependents; they looked to\nher as an angel of pity and deliverance, while she knew herself to be\nas helpless as they. Day by day Cathleen went among them, with her\npitifully scanty doles of food, cheering them by her words and\nsmiles, and by her very presence; and each day she went to her chapel,\nwhere she could cast aside the mask of cheerfulness she wore before\nher people, and prayed to the Blessed Virgin Mary and all the saints\nto show her how to save her own tribe and all the land.\n\n[Illustration: \"Day by day Cathleen went among them\"]\n\n\nCathleen Has an Inspiration\n\nAs the Countess knelt long before the altar one noontide she passed\nfrom her prayers into a deep sleep, and sank down on the altar steps.\nIn the troubled depths of her mind a thought arose, which came to her\nas an inspiration from Heaven itself. She awoke and sprang up\njoyfully, exclaiming aloud: \"Thanks be to Our Lady and to all the\nsaints! To them alone the blessed thought is due. Thus can I save my\npoor until the dearth is over.\"\n\nThen Cathleen left her oratory with such a light heart as she had not\nfelt since the terrible visitation began, and the gladness in her face\nwas so new and wonderful that all her servants noticed the change, and\nher old foster-mother, who loved the Countess with the utmost\ndevotion, shuddered at the thought that perhaps her darling had come\nunder the power of the ancient gods and would be bewitched away to\nTir-nan-og, the land of never-dying youth. Fearfully old Oona watched\nCathleen's face as she passed through the hall, and Cathleen saw the\nanxious gaze, and came and laid her hand on the old woman's shoulder,\nsaying, \"Nay, fear not, nurse; the saints have heard my prayer and put\nit into my heart to save all these helpless ones.\" Then she crossed\nthe hall to her own room, and called a servant, saying, \"Send hither\nquickly Fergus my steward.\"\n\n\nShe Summons her Steward\n\nShortly afterwards the steward came, Fergus the White, an old\ngrey-haired man, who had been foster-brother to Cathleen's\ngrandfather. He had seen three generations pass away, he had watched\nthe change from heathenism to Christianity, and of all the chief's\nfamily, to which his loyal devotion had ever clung, there remained but\nthis one young girl, and he loved her as his own child. Fergus did\nobeisance to his liege lady, and kissed her hand kneeling as he asked:\n\n\"What would the Countess Cathleen with her steward? Shall I render my\naccount of lands and wealth?\"\n\n\nDemands to Know what Wealth she Owns\n\n\"How much have I in lands?\" the Countess asked. And Fergus answered in\nsurprise: \"Your lands are worth one hundred thousand pounds.\"\n\n\"Of what value is the timber in my forests?\" \"As much again.\"\n\n\"What is the worth of my castles and my fair residences?\" continued\nthe Countess Cathleen. And Fergus still replied: \"As much more,\"\nthough in his heart he questioned why his lady wished to know now,\nwhile the famine made all riches seem valueless.\n\n\"How much gold still unspent lies in thy charge in my\ntreasure-chests?\"\n\n\"Lady, your stored gold is three hundred thousand pounds, as much as\nall your lands and forests and houses are worth.\"\n\nThe Countess Cathleen thought for an instant, and then, as one who\nmakes a momentous decision, spoke firmly, though her lips quivered as\nshe gave utterance to her thought:\n\n\n\"Go Far and Buy Food\"\n\n\"Then, Fergus, take my bags of coin and go. Leave here my jewels and\nsome gold, for I may hear of some stores of grain hoarded by niggard\nfarmers, and may induce them to sell, if not for the love of God, then\nfor the love of gold. Take, too, authority from me, written and sealed\nwith my seal, to sell all my lands and timber, and castles, except\nthis one alone where I must dwell. Send a man, trustworthy and speedy,\nto the North, to Ulster, where I hear the famine is less terrible, and\nlet him buy what cattle he can find, and drive them back as soon as\nmay be.\"\n\n \"Keeping this house alone, sell all I have;\n Go to some distant country, and come again\n With many herds of cows and ships of grain.\"\n\n\nThe Steward Reluctantly Obeys\n\nThe ancient steward, Fergus the White, stood at first speechless with\nhorror and grief, but after a moment of silence his sorrow found vent\nin words, and he besought his dear lady not to sell everything, her\nancient home, her father's lands, her treasured heirlooms, and leave\nherself no wealth for happier times. All his persuasions were useless,\nfor Cathleen would not be moved; she bade him \"Farewell\" and hastened\nhis journey, saying, \"A cry is in mine ears; I cannot rest.\" So there\nwas no help for it. A trusty man was despatched to Ulster to buy up\nall the cattle (weak and famine-stricken as they would be) in the\nNorth Country; while Fergus himself journeyed swiftly to England,\nwhich was still prosperous and fertile, untouched by the deadly\nfamine, and knowing nothing of the desolation of the sister isle, to\nwhich the English owed so much of their knowledge of the True Faith.\n\n\nBuys Stores in England\n\nIn England Fergus spent all the gold he brought with him, and then\nsold all the Countess Cathleen bade him sell--lands, castles, forests,\npastures, timber--all but one lonely castle in the desolate woods,\nwhere she dwelt among her own people, with the dying folk thronging\nround her gates and in her halls. Good bargains Fergus made also, for\nhe was a shrewd and loyal steward, and the saints must have touched\nthe hearts of the English merchants, so that they gave good prices for\nall, or perhaps they did not realize the dire distress that prevailed\nin Ireland. However that may have been, Fergus prospered in his\ntrading, and bought grain, and wine, and fat oxen and sheep, so that\nhe loaded many ships with full freights of provisions, enough to carry\nthe starving peasantry through the famine year till the next harvest.\nAt last all his money was spent, all his ships were laden, everything\nwas ready, and the little fleet lay in harbour, only awaiting a fair\nwind, which, unhappily, did not come.\n\n\nHis Return Delayed\n\nFirst of all Fergus waited through a deadly calm, when the sails hung\nmotionless, drooping, with no breath of air to stir them, when the fog\nthat brooded over the shores of England never lifted and all sailing\nwas impossible; then the winds dispersed the fog, and Fergus,\nforgetting caution in his great anxiety to return, hastily set sail\nfor his own land, and there came fierce tempests and contrary winds,\nso that his little fleet was driven back, and one or two ships went\ndown with all their stores of food. Fergus wept to see his lady's\nwealth lost in the wintry sea, but he dared not venture again, and\nthough he chafed and fretted at the delay, it was nearly two months\nafter he reached England before he could sail back to his young\nmistress and her starving countrymen. The trusty messenger who had\nbeen sent to buy cattle had succeeded beyond his own expectation; he\nalso had made successful bargains, and had found more cattle than he\nbelieved were still alive in Ireland. He had bought all, and was\ndriving them slowly towards the Countess Cathleen's forest dwelling.\nTheir progress was so slow, because of their weakness and the scanty\nfodder by the way, that no news of them came to Cathleen, and she knew\nnot that while corn and cattle were coming with Fergus across the sea,\nfood was also coming to her slowly through the barren ways of her own\nnative land. None of this she knew, and despair would have filled her\nheart, but for her faith in God and her belief in the great\ninspiration that had been given to her.\n\n\nDeepening Misery in Ireland\n\nMeanwhile terrible things had been happening in Ireland. As in England\nin later days, \"men said openly that Christ and His saints slept\";\nthey thought with longing of the mighty old gods, for the new seemed\npowerless, and they yearned for the friendly \"good people\" who had\nfled from the sound of the church bell. Thus many minds were ready to\nrevolt from the Christian faith if they had not feared the life after\ndeath and the endless torments of the Christian Hell. Some few,\ndesperate, even offered secret worship to the old heathen gods, and\ntrue love to the One True God had grown cold.\n\n\nTwo Mysterious Strangers\n\nNow on the very day on which Fergus sailed for England, and his\ncomrade departed to Ulster, two mysterious and stately strangers\nsuddenly appeared in Erin. Whence they came no man knew, but they were\nfirst seen near the wild sea-shore of the west, and the few poor\ninhabitants thought they had been put ashore by some vessel or wrecked\non that dangerous coast. Aliens they certainly were, for they talked\nwith each other in a tongue that none understood, and they appeared as\nif they did not comprehend the questions asked of them. Thus they\npassed away from the western coasts, and made their way inland; but\nwhen they next appeared, in a village not far from Dublin, they had\ngreatly changed: they wore magnificent robes and furs, with splendid\njewelled gloves on their hands, and golden circlets, set with gleaming\nrubies, bound their brows; their black steeds showed no trace of\nweakness and famine as they rode through the woods and carefully noted\nthe misery everywhere.\n\n\nTheir Strange Story\n\nAt last they alighted at the little lodge, where a forester's widow\ngladly received them; and their royal dress, lofty bearing and strange\nlanguage accorded ill with the mean surroundings and the scanty\naccommodation of that little hut. The dead forester had been one of\nthe Countess Cathleen's most faithful vassals, and his holding was but\na short distance from the castle, so that the strangers could,\nunobserved, watch the life of the little village. As time passed they\ntold their hostess they were merchants, simple traders from a distant\ncountry, trafficking in very precious gems; but they had no wares for\nexchange, and no gems to show; they made no inquiries or researches,\nbargained with no man, seemed to do no business; they were the most\nunusual merchants ever seen in Ireland, and the strangeness of their\nbehaviour troubled men's minds.\n\n\nMysterious Behaviour\n\nDay by day they ate, unquestioning, the coarse food their poor hostess\nset before them, and the black bread which was the best food\nobtainable in those terrible days, but they added to it wine, rich and\nred, from their own private store, and they paid her lavishly in good\nred gold, so that she wondered that any men should stay in the\nfamine-stricken country when they could so easily leave it at their\nwill. Gradually, too, speaking now in the Irish tongue, they began to\nask her cautious questions of the people, of the land, of the famine,\nhow men lived and how they died, and so they heard of the exceeding\ngoodness of the Countess Cathleen, whose bounty had saved so many\nlives, and was still saving others, though the deadly pinch of famine\ngrew sorer with the passing days. To their hostess they admired\nCathleen's goodness, and were loud in her praises, but they looked\naskance at one another and their brows were black with discontent.\n\n\nProfessed Errand of Mercy\n\nThen one day the kingly merchants told the poor widow who harboured\nthem that they too were the friends of the poor and starving; they\nwere servants of a mighty prince, who in his compassion and mercy had\nsent them on a mission to Ireland to help the afflicted peasants to\nfight against famine and death. They said that they themselves had no\nfood to give, only wine and gold in plenty, so that men might exert\nthemselves and search for food to buy. Their hostess, hearing this,\nand knowing that there were still some niggards who refused to part\nwith their mouldering heaps of corn, setting the price so high that no\nman could buy, called down the blessing of God and Mary and all the\nsaints upon their heads, for if they would distribute their gold to\nall, or even buy the corn themselves and distribute it, men need no\nlonger die of hunger.\n\n\nA New Traffic\n\nWhen she prayed for a blessing on the two strangers they smiled\nscornfully and impatiently; and the elder said, cunningly:\n\n \"Alas! we know the evils of mere charity,\n And would devise a more considered way.\n Let each man bring one piece of merchandise.\"\n\n\"Ah, sirs!\" replied the hostess, \"then your compassion, your gold and\nyour goodwill are of no avail. Think you, after all these weary\nmonths, that any man has merchandise left to sell? They have sold long\nago all but the very clothes they wear, to keep themselves alive till\nbetter days come. Such offers are mockery of our distress.\"\n\n\"We mock you not,\" said the elder merchant. \"All men have the one\nprecious thing we wish to buy, and have come hither to find; none has\nalready lost or sold it.\"\n\n\"What precious treasure can you mean? Men in Ireland now have only\ntheir lives, and can barely cherish those,\" said the poor woman,\nwondering greatly and much afraid.\n\n\nBuyers of Souls\n\nThe elder merchant continued gazing at her with a crafty smile and an\neye ever on the alert for tokens of understanding. \"Poor as they are,\nIrishmen have still one thing that we will purchase, if they will\nsell: their souls, which we have come to obtain for our mighty Prince,\nand with the great price that we shall pay in pure gold men can well\nsave their lives till the starving time is over. Why should men die a\ncruel, lingering death or drag through weary months of miserable\nhalf-satisfied life when they may live well and merrily at the cost of\na soul, which is no good but to cause fear and pain? We take men's\nsouls and liberate them from all pain and care and remorse, and we\ngive in exchange money, much money, to procure comforts and ease; we\nenrol men as vassals of our great lord, and he is no hard taskmaster\nto those who own his sway.\"\n\n\nSlow Trade at First\n\nWhen the poor widow heard these dreadful words she knew that the\nstrangers were demons come to tempt men's souls and to lure them to\nHell. She crossed herself, and fled from them in fear, praying to be\nkept from temptation; and she would not return to her little cottage\nin the forest, but stayed in the village warning men against the evil\ndemons who were tempting the starving people, till she too died of the\nfamine, and her house was left wholly to the strangers. Yet the\nmerchants fared ever well, better than before her departure, and those\nwho ventured to the forest dwelling found good food and rich wine,\nwhich the strangers sometimes gave to their visitors, with crafty\nhints of abundance to be easily obtained. Then when timid individuals\nasked the way to win these comforts the strangers began their\ntempting, and represented the case to be gained by the sale of men's\nsouls. One man, bolder than the rest, made a bargain with the demons\nand gave them his soul for three hundred crowns of gold, and from that\ntime he in his turn became a tempter. He boasted of his wealth, of the\nrich food the merchants gave him at times, of the potent wine he drank\nfrom their generously opened bottles, and, best of all, he vaunted\nhis freedom from pity, conscience, or remorse.\n\n\nTrade Increases\n\nGradually many people came to the forest dwelling and trafficked with\nthe demon merchants. The purchase of souls went on busily, and the\ndemons paid prices varying according to the worth of the soul and the\nrecord of its former sins; but to all who sold they gave food and\nwine, and in gloating over their gold and satisfying hunger and\nthirst, men forgot to ask whence came this food and wine and the\nendless stores of coin. Now many people ventured into the forest to\ndeal with the demons, and the narrow track grew into a broad beaten\nway with the numbers of those who came, and all returned fed and\nwarmed, and bearing bags heavy with coin, and the promise of abundant\nfood and easy service. Those who had sold their souls rioted with the\nmoney, for the demons gave them food, and they bought wine from the\ninexhaustible stores of the evil merchants. The poor, lost people knew\nthat there was no hope for them after death, and they tried by all\nmeans to keep themselves alive and to enjoy what was yet left to them;\nbut their mirth was fearful and they durst not stop to think.\n\n\nCathleen Hears of the Demon Traders\n\nAt first the Countess Cathleen knew nothing of the terrible doings of\nthe demons, for she never passed beyond her castle gates, but spent\nher time in prayer for her people's safety and for the speedy return\nof her messengers; but when the starving throng of pensioners at her\ngates grew daily less, and there were fewer claimants for the pitiful\nallowance which was all she had to give, she wondered if some other\nmightier helper had come to Ireland. But she could hear of none,\nand soon the shameless rioting and drunkenness in the village came to\nher knowledge, and she wondered yet more whence her clansmen obtained\nthe means for their excesses, for she felt instinctively that the\norigin of all this rioting must be evil. Cathleen therefore called to\nher an old peasant, whose wife had died of hunger in the early days of\nthe famine, so that he himself had longed to die and join her; but\nwhen he came to her she was horror-struck by the change in him. Now he\ncame flushed with wine, with defiant look and insolent bearing, and\nhis face was full of evil mirth as he tried to answer soberly the\nCountess's questions.\n\n\"Why do the villagers and strangers no longer come to me for food? I\nhave but little now to give, but all are welcome to share it with me\nand my household.\"\n\n\nThe Peasant's Story\n\n\"They do not come, O Countess, because they are no longer starving.\nThey have better food and wine, and abundance of money to buy more.\"\n\n[Illustration: The peasant's story]\n\n\"Whence then have they obtained the money, the food, and the wine for\nthe drinking-bouts, the tumult of which reaches me even in my\noratory?\"\n\n\"Lady, they have received all from the generous merchants who are in\nthe forest dwelling where old Mairi formerly lived; she is dead now,\nand these noble strangers keep open house in her cottage night and\nday; they are so wealthy that they need not stint their bounty, and so\npowerful that they can find good food, enough for all who go to them.\nSince Brigit died (your old servant, lady) her husband and son work no\nmore, but serve the strange merchants, and urge men to join them; and\nI, and many others, have done so, and we are now wealthy\" (here he\nshowed the Countess a handful of gold) \"and well fed, and have wine as\nmuch as heart can desire.\"\n\n\"But do you give them nothing in return for all their generosity? Are\nthey so noble that they ask nothing in requital of their bounty?\"\n\n\n\"Good Gold for Souls\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, we give them something, but nothing of importance, nothing\nwe cannot spare. They are merchants of souls, and buy them for their\nking, and they pay good red gold for the useless, painful things. I\nhave sold my soul to them, and now I weep no more for my wife; I am\ngay, and have wine enough and gold enough to help me through this\ndearth!\"\n\n\"Alas!\" sighed the Countess, \"and what when you too die?\" The old\npeasant laughed at her grief as he said: \"Then, as now, I shall have\nno soul to trouble me with remorse or conscience\"; and the Countess\ncovered her eyes with her hand and beckoned silently that he should\ngo. In her oratory, whither she betook herself immediately, she prayed\nwith all her spirit that the Virgin and all the saints would inspire\nher to defeat the demons and to save her people's souls.\n\n\nCathleen Tries to Check the Traffic\n\nNext day Cathleen called together all the people in the village, her\nown tribesmen and strangers. She offered them again a share of all she\nhad, and the daily rations she could distribute, but told them that\nall must share alike and that she had nothing but the barest\nnecessaries to give--scanty portions of corn and meal, with milk from\none or two famine-stricken cows her servants had managed to keep\nalive. To this she added that she had sent two trusty messengers for\nhelp, one to Ulster for cattle, and Fergus to England for corn and\nwine; they must return soon, she felt sure, with abundant supplies, if\nmen would patiently await their return.\n\n\nIn Vain\n\nBut all was useless. Her messengers had sent no word of their return,\nand the abundant supplies at the forest cottage were more easily\nobtained, and were less carefully regulated, than those of the\nCountess Cathleen. The merchants, too, were ever at hand with their\ncunning wiles, and their active, persuasive dupes, who would gladly\nbring all others into their own soulless condition. The wine given by\nthe demons warmed the hearts of all who drank, and the deceived\npeasants dreamed of happiness when the famine was over, and so the\npassionate appeal of the Countess failed, and the sale of souls\ncontinued merrily. The noise of revelry grew daily louder and more\nriotous, and the drinkers cared nothing for the death or departure of\ntheir dearest friends; while those who died, died drunken and utterly\nreckless, or full of horror and despair, reviling the crafty merchants\nwho had deceived them with promises of life and happiness. The evil\ninfluence clung all about the country-side, and seemed in league with\nthe pitiless powers of Nature against the souls of men, till at last\nthe stricken Countess, putting her trust in God, sought out the forest\nlodge where the demon merchants dwelt, trafficking for souls. The way\nwas easy to find now, for a broad beaten track led to the dwelling,\nand as the evil spirits saw Cathleen coming slowly along the path\ntheir wicked eyes gleamed and their clawlike hands worked convulsively\nin their jewelled gloves, for they hoped she had come to sell her pure\nsoul.\n\n\nShe Visits the Demons\n\n\"What does the Countess Cathleen wish to obtain from two poor stranger\nmerchants?\" said the elder with an evil smile; and the younger, bowing\ndeeply said: \"Lady, you may command us in all things, save what\ntouches our allegiance to our king.\" Cathleen replied: \"I have no\nmerchandise to barter, nothing for trade with you, for you buy such\nthings as I will never sell: you buy men's souls for Hell. I come only\nto beg that you will release the poor souls whom you have bought for\nSatan's kingdom, and will have mercy on my ignorant people and deceive\nthem no more. I have yet some gold unspent and jewels unsold: take all\nthere is but let my people go free.\" Then the merchants laughed aloud\nscornfully, and rejected her offer. \"Would you have us undo our work?\nHave we toiled, then, for naught to extend our master's sway? Have we\nwon for him so many souls to dwell for ever in his kingdom and do his\nwork, and shall we give them back for your entreaties? We have gold\nenough, and food and wine enough, fair lady. The souls we have bought\nwe keep, for our master gives us honour and rank proportioned to the\nnumber of souls we win for him, and you may see by the golden circlets\nround our brows that we are princes of his kingdom, and have brought\nhim countless souls. Nevertheless, there is one most rare and precious\nthing which could redeem these bartered souls of Ireland's peasants,\nthings of little worth.\"\n\n\nThey Make a Proposal\n\n\"Oh, what is that?\" said the Countess. \"If I have it, or can in any\nway procure it, tell me, that I may redeem these deluded people's\nsouls.\"\n\n\"You have it now, fair saint. It is one pure soul, precious as\nmultitudes of more sin-stained souls. Our master would far rather have\na perfect and flawless pearl for his diadem than myriads of these\ncracked and flawed crystals. Your soul, most saintly Countess, would\nredeem the souls of all your tribe, if you would sell it to our king;\nit would be the fairest jewel in his crown. But think not to save your\npeople otherwise, and beguile them no longer with false promises of\nhelp: your messenger to Ulster lies sick of ague in the Bog of Allen,\nand no food comes from England.\"\n\n\nFalse Tidings\n\n \"We saw a man\n Heavy with sickness in the Bog of Allen\n Whom you had bid buy cattle. Near Fair Head\n We saw your grain ships lying all becalmed\n In the dark night, and not less still than they\n Burned all their mirrored lanterns in the sea.\"\n\nWhen Cathleen heard of the failure of her messengers to bring food it\nseemed as if all hope were indeed over, and the demons smiled craftily\nupon her as she turned silently to go, and laughed joyously to each\nother when she had left their presence. Now they had good hope to win\nher for their master; but they knew that their time was short, since\nhelp was not far away.\n\n \"Last night, closed in the image of an owl,\n I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal,\n And saw, creeping on the uneasy surge,\n Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal;\n They are five days from us.\n I hurried east,\n A grey owl flitting, flitting in the dew,\n And saw nine hundred oxen toil through Meath,\n Driven on by goads of iron; they too, brother,\n Are full five days from us. Five days for traffic.\"\n\n\nCathleen's Despair\n\nThe Countess then went back in bitter grief to her desolate castle,\nwhere only faithful old servants now waited in the halls, and\nwhispered together in the dark corners, and, kneeling in her oratory,\nshe prayed far into the night for light in her darkness. As she prayed\nbefore the altar she slept for very weariness, and was aroused by a\nsudden furious knocking, and an outcry of \"Thieves! Thieves!\" Cathleen\nrose quickly from the altar steps, and met her foster-mother, Oona, at\nthe door of the oratory; and Oona cried aloud: \"Thieves have broken\ninto the treasure-chamber, and nothing is left!\" Cathleen asked if\nthis were true, and discovered that not a single coin, not a single\ngem was left: the demons had stolen all. And while the servants still\nmourned over the lost treasures of the house there came another cry of\n\"Thieves! Thieves!\" and an old peasant rushed in, exclaiming that all\nthe food was gone. That, alas! was true: the few sacks of meal which\nsupplied the scanty daily fare were emptied and the bags flung on the\nfloor. Now indeed the last poor resource was gone.\n\n[Illustration: \"Thieves have broken into the treasure-chamber\"]\n\n\nA Desperate Decision\n\nWhen the Countess heard of this last terrible misfortune a great light\nbroke upon her mind with a blinding flash, and showed her a way to\nsave others, even at the cost of her own salvation. It seemed God's\nanswer to her prayer for guidance, and she resolved to follow the\ninspiration thus sent into her mind. She decided now what she would\ndo; her mind was made up, and the light which shines from extreme\nsacrifice of self was so bright upon her face that her old nurse and\nher servants, wailing around her, were awe-stricken and durst not\nquestion or check her. She returned to her oratory door, and, standing\non the steps, looking down on her weeping domestics, she cried:\n\n \"I am desolate,\n For a most sad resolve wakes in my heart;\n But always I have faith. Old men and women,\n Be silent; God does not forsake the world.\n Mary Queen of Angels\n And all you clouds and clouds of saints, farewell!\"\n\nWith one last long gaze at the little altar of her oratory she\nresolutely closed the door and turned away.\n\n\nShe Revisits the Demons\n\nThe next day the merchants in their forest lodge were still buying\nsouls, and giving food and wine to the starving peasants who sold.\nThey were buying men and women, sinful, terrified, afraid to die,\neager to live; buying them more cheaply than before because of the\nincrease of sin and terror. Bargains were being struck and bartering\nwas in full progress, when suddenly all the peasants stopped,\nshamefaced, as one said, \"Here comes the Countess Cathleen,\" and down\nthe track she was seen approaching slowly. One by one the peasants\nslunk away, and the demon merchants were quite alone when Cathleen\nentered the little cottage where they sat, with bags of coin on the\ntable before them and on the ground beside them. Again they greeted\nher with mocking respect, and asked to know her will.\n\n\"Merchants, do you still buy souls for Hell?\"\n\n\"Lady, our traffic prospers, for the famine lies long on the land, and\nmen would fain live till better days come again. Besides, we can give\nthem food and wine and wealth for future years; and all in exchange\nfor a mere soul, a little breath of wind.\"\n\n\"Perhaps the Countess Cathleen has come to deal with us,\" said the\nyounger.\n\n\"Merchant, you are right; I have come to bring you merchandise. I have\na soul to sell, so costly that perhaps the price is beyond your\nmeans.\"\n\nThe elder merchant replied joyfully: \"No price is beyond our means, if\nonly the soul be worth the price; if it be a pure and stainless soul,\nfit to join the angels and saints in Paradise, our master will gladly\npay all you ask. Whose is the soul, and what is the price?\"\n\n\nHer Terms\n\n \"The people starve, therefore the people go\n Thronging to you. I hear a cry come from them,\n And it is in my ears by night and day:\n And I would have five hundred thousand crowns,\n To find food for them till the dearth go by;\n And have the wretched spirits you have bought\n For your gold crowns, released, and sent to God.\n The soul that I would barter is my soul.\"\n\n\nThe Bond Signed\n\nWhen the demons heard this, and knew that Cathleen was willing to give\nher own soul as ransom for the souls of others, they were overjoyed,\ntheir eyes flashed, the rubies of their golden crowns shot out fiery\ngleams, and their fingers clutched the air as if they already held her\nstainless soul. This would be a great triumph to their master, and\nthey would win great honour in Hell when they brought him a soul worth\nfar, far more than large abundance of ordinary sinful souls. Very\ncarefully they watched while the trembling Countess signed the bond\nwhich gave her soul to Hell, very gladly they paid down the money for\nwhich she had stipulated, and very joyously they saw the signs of\nspeedy death in her face, knowing, as they did, how soon the coming\nrelief would show her sacrifice to have been unnecessary, though\nnow it was irrevocable.\n\n[Illustration: \"Cathleen signed the bond\"]\n\n\nGeneral Lamentation\n\nSadly but resolutely she turned away, followed by her servants bearing\nthe bags of gold, and as she passed through the village a rumour ran\nbefore her of what she had done. All men were sobered by the terrible\ntidings, and the redeemed people waited for her coming, and followed\nher weeping and lamenting, for now their souls were free again, and\nthey recognised the great sacrifice she had made for them; but it was\ntoo late to save her, though now all would have died for her. Cathleen\npassed on into her castle, and there in the courtyard she distributed\nthe money to all her people, and bade them dwell quietly in obedience\ntill her steward returned. She herself, she said, could not stay; she\nmust go on a long and dark journey, for her people's need had broken\nher heart and conquered her; she was no longer her own, but belonged\nto the dark lord of Hell; she could not bid them pray for her, nor\ncould she pray for herself.\n\n\nCathleen Fades Away\n\nHer people, who knew the great price at which she had redeemed them,\nbesought the Blessed Virgin and all the saints to have mercy on her;\nand all the souls she had released, on earth and in Heaven, prayed for\nher night and day, and the blessed saints interceded for her. Yet from\nday to day the Countess Cathleen faded, and the demons, ceasing all\nother traffic, lurked in waiting to catch her soul as she died. Night\nand day her heart-broken foster-mother Oona tended her; but she grew\nfeebler, till it seemed that she would die before Fergus returned.\n\n\nThe Steward Returns\n\nOn the fifth day, however, glad tidings came. Fergus had landed, and\nsent word that he was bringing corn and meal as quickly as possible;\nalso a wandering peasant brought a message that nine hundred oxen were\nwithin one day's journey of her castle; and when the gentle Cathleen\nheard this, and knew that her people were safe, she died with a smile\non her lips and thanks to God for her people on her tongue. That same\nnight a great tempest broke over the land, which drove away the\npestilential mists, and left the country free from evil influences,\nfor with the morning men found the forest lodge crushed beneath the\nfallen trees, and the two demon merchants vanished. All gathered round\nthe castle and mourned for the Countess Cathleen, for none knew how it\nwould go with her spirit; they feared that the evil demons had borne\nher soul to Hell. All had prayed for her, but there had been no sign,\nno token of forgiveness. Nevertheless their prayers were heard and\nanswered.\n\n\nThe Demons Cheated\n\nIn the next night, when the great storm had passed away and the\nvapours no longer filled the air, when Fergus had distributed food and\nwine, and the oxen had been apportioned to every family, so that\nplenty reigned in every house, when only Cathleen's castle lay\ndesolate, shrouded in gloom, the faithful old nurse Oona, watching by\nthe body of her darling, had a glorious vision. She saw the splendid\narmies of the angels who guard mankind from evil, she saw the saints\nwho had suffered and overcome, and amid them was the Countess\nCathleen, happy with saints and angels in the bliss of Paradise; for\nher love had redeemed her own soul as well as the souls of others,\nand God had pardoned her sin because of her self-sacrifice.\n\n \"The light beats down: the gates of pearl are wide,\n And she is passing to the floor of peace,\n And Mary of the seven times wounded heart\n Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair\n Has fallen on her face; the Light of Lights\n Looks always on the motive, not the deed,\n The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone.\"\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[15] C. Kingsley.\n\n[16] The poetical quotations throughout this story are taken, by\npermission, from Mr. W. B. Yeats's play \"The Countess Cathleen.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX: CUCHULAIN, THE CHAMPION OF IRELAND\n\n\nIntroduction\n\nAmong all the early literatures of Europe, there are two which, at\nexactly opposite corners of the continent, display most strikingly\nsimilar characteristics, characteristics which apparently point to\nsome racial affinity in the peoples who produced them. These\nliteratures are the Greek and the Irish. It has been maintained with\nmuch ingenuity that the Greeks of Homer, the early Britons, and the\nIrish Celts were all of one stock, as shown by the many points they\nhad in common. It is certain that in customs, manner of life, ethics,\nideas of religion, and methods of warfare a striking similarity may be\nseen between the Greeks as described by Homer and the Britons as\nJulius Caesar knew them, or the Irish as their own legends reveal them.\nWe must expect to find in their myths and legends a certain\nresemblance of Celtic ideas to Greek ideas; and if the great Achilles\nsulks in his tent because he is unjustly deprived of his captive, the\nfair Briseis, we shall not be surprised to find the Champion of Erin\nquarrelling over his claim to precedence. The contest between the\nheroes for the armour of dead Achilles is paralleled by this contest\nbetween the three greatest warriors of Ireland for the special dish of\nhonour called the \"Champion's Portion,\" a distinction which also\nrecalls Greek life.\n\n\nCuchulain, the Irish Achilles\n\nThe resemblance of the Cuchulain legend to the story of Achilles is so\nstrong that Cuchulain is often called \"the Irish Achilles,\" but there\nare elements of humour and pathos in his story which the tale of\nAchilles cannot show, and in reckless courage, power of inspiring\ndread, sense of personal merit, and frankness of speech the Irish hero\nis not inferior to the mighty Greek. The way in which Cuchulain\nestablished his claim to be regarded as Chief Champion of Erin is\nrelated in the following story, which shows some primitive Celtic\nfeatures found again in Welsh legends and other national folk-tales.\n\n\nThe Youth of Cuchulain\n\nCuchulain was the nephew of King Conor of Ulster, son of his sister\nDechtire, and men say his father was no mortal man, but the great god\nLugh of the Long Hand. When Cuchulain was born he was brought up by\nKing Conor himself and the wisest men of Ireland; when five years old,\nhe beat all the other boys in games and warlike exercises, and on the\nday on which he was seven he assumed the arms of a warrior, so much\ngreater was he than the sons of mortal men. Cuchulain had overheard\nhis tutor, Cathbad the Druid, say to the older youths, \"If any young\nman take arms to-day, his name will be greater than any other name in\nIreland, but his span of life will be short,\" and as he loved fame\nabove long life, he persuaded his uncle, King Conor, to invest him\nwith the weapons of manhood. His fame soon spread all over Ireland,\nfor his warlike deeds were those of a proved warrior, not of a child\nof nursery age, and by the time Cuchulain was seventeen he was in\nreality without peer among the champions of Ulster, or of all Ireland.\n\n\nCuchulain's Marriage\n\nWhen the men of Ulster remembered Cuchulain's divine origin, they\nwould fain have him married, so that he might not die childless; and\nfor a year they searched all Erin for a fit bride for so great a\nchampion. Cuchulain, however, went wooing for himself, to the dun of\nForgall the Wily, a Druid of great power. Forgall had two daughters,\nof whom the younger, Emer, was the most lovely and virtuous maiden to\nbe found in the country, and she became Cuchulain's chosen bride.\nGallant was his wooing, and merry and jesting were her answers to his\nsuit, for though Emer loved Cuchulain at first sight she would not\naccept him at once, and long they talked together. Finally Emer\nconsented to wed Cuchulain when he had undergone certain trials and\nadventures for a year, and had accomplished certain feats, a test\nwhich she imposed on her lover, partly as a trial of his worthiness\nand constancy and partly to satisfy her father Forgall, who would not\nagree to the marriage. When Cuchulain returned triumphant at the end\nof the year, he rescued Emer from the confinement in which her father\nhad placed her, and won her at the sword's point; they were wedded,\nand dwelt at Armagh, the capital of Ulster, under the protection of\nKing Conor.\n\n\nBricriu's Feast\n\nIt happened that at Conor's court was one chief who delighted in\nmaking mischief, as Thersites among the Grecian leaders. This man,\nBricriu of the Bitter Tongue, came to King Conor and invited him and\nall the heroes of the Red Branch, the royal bodyguard of Ulster, to a\nfeast at his new dwelling, for he felt sure he could find some\noccasion to stir up strife at a feast. King Conor, however, and the\nRed Branch heroes, distrusted Bricriu so much that they refused to\naccept the invitation, unless Bricriu would give sureties that, having\nreceived his guests, he would leave the hall before the feasting\nbegan. Bricriu, who had expected some such condition, readily agreed,\nand before going home to prepare his feast took measures for stirring\nup strife among the heroes of Ulster.\n\n\nBricriu's Falsehood\n\nBefore Bricriu left Armagh he went to the mighty Laegaire and with\nmany words of praise said: \"All good be with you, O Laegaire, winner\nof battles! Why should you not be Champion of Ireland for ever?\"\n\n\"I can be, if I will,\" said Laegaire.\n\n\"Follow my advice, and you shall be head of all the champions of\nIreland,\" said cunning Bricriu.\n\n\"What is your counsel?\" asked Laegaire.\n\n\"King Conor is coming to a feast in my house,\" said Bricriu, \"and the\nChampion's Bit will be a splendid portion for any hero. That warrior\nwho obtains it at this feast will be acclaimed Chief Champion of Erin.\nWhen the banquet begins do you bid your chariot-driver rise and claim\nthe hero's portion for you, for you are indeed worthy of it, and I\nhope that you may get what you so well deserve!\"\n\n\"Some men shall die if my right is taken from me,\" quoth Laegaire; but\nBricriu only laughed and turned away.\n\n\nBricriu Meets Conall Cearnach\n\nBricriu next met Conall Cearnach, Cuchulain's cousin, one of the\nchiefs of the Red Branch.\n\n\"May all good be with you, Conall the Victorious,\" quoth he. \"You are\nour defence and shield, and no foe dare face you in battle. Why should\nyou not be Chief Champion of Ulster?\"\n\n\"It only depends on my will,\" said Conall; and then Bricriu continued\nhis flattery and insidious suggestions until he had stirred up Conall\nto command his charioteer to claim the Champion's Portion at\nBricriu's feast. Very joyous was Bricriu, and very evilly he smiled as\nhe turned away when he had roused the ambition of Conall Cearnach, for\nhe revelled in the prospect of coming strife.\n\n\nBricriu Meets Cuchulain\n\n\"May all good be with you, Cuchulain,\" said Bricriu, as he met the\nyouthful hero. \"You are the chief defence of Erin, our bulwark against\nthe foe, our joy and darling, the hero of Ulster, the favourite of all\nthe maidens of Ireland, the greatest warrior of our land! We all live\nin safety under the protection of your mighty hand, so why should you\nnot be the Chief Champion of Ulster? Why will you leave the Hero's\nPortion to some less worthy warrior?\"\n\n\"By the god of my people, I will have it, or slay any bold man who\ndares to deprive me of it,\" said Cuchulain.\n\nThereupon Bricriu left Cuchulain and travelled to his home, where he\nmade his preparations for receiving the king, as if nothing were\nfurther from his thoughts than mischief-making and guile.\n\n\nThe Feast and the Quarrel\n\nWhen King Conor and his court had entered Bricriu's house at Dundrum,\nand were sitting at the feast, Bricriu was forced by his sureties to\nleave the hall, for men feared his malicious tongue, and as he went to\nhis watch-tower he turned and cried:\n\n\"The Champion's Portion at my feast is worth having; let it be given\nto the best hero in Ulster.\"\n\nThe carving and distribution of the viands began, and when the\nChampion's Portion was brought forward it was claimed by three\nchariot-drivers, Laegaire's, Conall's, and Cuchulain's, each on\nbehalf of his master; and when no decision was made by King Conor the\nthree heroes claimed it, each for himself. But Laegaire and Conall\nunited in defying Cuchulain and ridiculing his claim, and a great\nfight began in the hall, till all men shook for fear; and at last King\nConor intervened, before any man had been wounded.\n\n\"Put up your swords,\" he said. \"The Champion's Portion at this feast\nshall be divided among the three, and we will ask King Ailill and\nQueen Meave of Connaught to say who is the greatest champion.\" This\nplan pleased every one but Bricriu, who saw his hopes of fomenting\nstrife disappear.\n\n\nThe Women's Quarrel\n\nJust at that moment the women rose and quitted the hall to breathe the\nfresh air, and Bricriu spied his opportunity. Going down from his\nwatch-tower, he met Fedelm, the wife of Laegaire, with her fifty\nmaidens, and said to her:\n\n\"All good be with you to-night, Fedelm of the Fresh Heart! Truly in\nbeauty, in birth, in dignity, no woman in Ulster is your equal. If you\nenter my hall first to-night, you will be queen of the Ulster women.\"\n\nFedelm walked on merrily enough, but determined that she would soon\nre-enter the hall, and certainly before any other woman. Bricriu next\nmet Lendabair the Favourite, Conall's wife, and gave her similar\nflattery and a similar prophecy, and Lendabair also determined to be\nfirst back at the house and first to enter the hall.\n\nThen Bricriu waited till he saw Emer, Cuchulain's fair wife. \"Health\nbe with you, Emer, wife of the best man in Ireland! As the sun\noutshines the stars, so do you outshine all other women! You should\nof right enter the house first, for whoever does so will be queen of\nthe women of Ulster, and none has a better claim to be their queen\nthan Cuchulain's wife, Forgall's fair daughter.\"\n\n\nThe Husbands Intervene\n\nThe three fair women, each with her train of fifty maidens, watched\none another carefully, and when one turned back towards the house the\nothers accompanied her, step for step; and the noise of their\nreturning footsteps as they raced along alarmed their husbands.\nSencha, the king's wise counsellor, reassured them, saying, \"It is\nonly a woman's quarrel; Bricriu has stirred up enmity among the wives\nof the heroes\"; and as he spoke Emer reached the hall, having suddenly\noutrun the others; but the doors were shut. Then followed bitter\ncomplaints from Fedelm and Lendabair, both united against Emer, as\ntheir husbands had been against Cuchulain. Again King Conor was forced\nto call for silence, since each hero was supporting his own wife's\nclaims to be queen of the Ulster women. The strife was only calmed by\nthe promise that the claim to the highest place should be settled by\nAilill and Meave of Connaught, who would be impartial judges.\n\n\nThe Heroes Journey to Connaught\n\nBricriu's feast lasted for three days longer, and then King Conor and\nthe Red Branch heroes returned to Armagh. There the dispute about the\nChampionship began again, and Conor sent the heroes to Cruachan, in\nConnaught, to obtain a judgment from King Ailill. \"If he does not\ndecide, go to Curoi of Munster, who is a just and wise man, and will\nfind out the best hero by wizardry and enchantments.\" When Conor had\ndecided thus, Laegaire and Conall, after some disputation as to who\nshould start first, had their chariots got ready and drove towards\nCruachan, but Cuchulain stayed amusing himself and the women in\nArmagh. When his chariot-driver reproached him with losing the\nChampion's Portion through laziness Cuchulain replied: \"I never\nthought about it, but there is still time to win it. Yoke my steeds to\nthe chariot.\" By this time, however, the other two heroes were far,\nvery far, in advance, with the chief men of Ulster following them.\n\n\nCuchulain's Steeds\n\nCuchulain had quite lately won two mighty magic steeds, which arose\nfrom two lonely lakes--the Grey of Macha, his best-beloved horse, and\nthe Black Sainglain. The struggle between the hero and these magic\nsteeds had been terrible before he had been able to tame them and\nreduce them to submission; now he had them yoked to his chariot, and\nwhen he had once started he soon came up with the other two heroes,\nand all three drove furiously towards Cruachan, with all the warriors\nof Ulster behind them.\n\n[Illustration: \"All three drove furiously towards Cruachan\"]\n\n\nQueen Meave Watches the Heroes\n\nThe noise of the advancing war-chariots reached Queen Meave at\nCruachan, and she wondered greatly to hear thunder from a clear sky;\nbut her fair daughter, looking from her window, said: \"Mother, I see\nchariots coming.\"\n\n\"Who comes in the first?\" asked Queen Meave.\n\n\"I see a big stout man, with reddish gold hair and long forked beard,\ndressed in purple with gold adornments; and his shield is bronze edged\nwith gold; he bears a javelin in his hand.\"\n\n\"That man I know well,\" answered her mother. \"He is mighty Laegaire,\nthe Storm of War, the Knife of Victory; he will slay us all, unless he\ncomes in peace.\"\n\n\"I see another chariot,\" quoth the princess, \"bearing a fair man with\nlong wavy hair, a man of clear red and white complexion, wearing a\nwhite vest and a cloak of blue and crimson. His shield is brown, with\nyellow bosses and a bronze edge.\"\n\n\"That is valiant Conall the Victorious,\" quoth Meave. \"Small chance\nshall we have if he comes in anger.\"\n\n\"Yet a third chariot comes, wherein stands a dark, sad youth, most\nhandsome of all the men of Erin; he wears a crimson tunic, brooched\nwith gold, a long white linen cloak, and a white, gold-embroidered\nhood. His hair is black, his look draws love, his glance shoots fire,\nand the hero-light gleams around him. His shield is crimson, with a\nsilver rim, and images of beasts shine on it in gold.\"\n\n\nTerror in Connaught\n\n\"Alas! that is the hero Cuchulain,\" said Meave. \"He is more to be\nfeared than all others. His voice in anger tells the doom of men; his\nwrath is fatal. Truly we are but dead if we have aroused Cuchulain's\nwrath.\" After a pause: \"Tell me, daughter, are there yet other\nchariots?\"\n\n\"The men of Ulster follow in chariots so numerous that the earth\nquakes beneath them, and their sound is as thunder, or the dashing\nwaves of the sea.\"\n\nNow Queen Meave was terrified in good earnest, but hoped by a hearty\nwelcome to turn aside the wrath of the heroes of Ulster; thus when\nthey arrived at the dun of Cruachan they found the best of receptions,\nand all the Red Branch warriors were feasted for three days and\nnights.\n\n\nConor Explains the Matter\n\nAfter three days Ailill of Connaught asked their business, and King\nConor related to him everything as it had occurred--the feast, the\ndispute for the Champion's Portion, the women's quarrel, and the\ndecision to be judged by King Ailill. This angered Ailill, who was a\npeaceable man.\n\n\"It was no friend of mine who referred you to me, for I shall surely\nincur the hatred of two heroes,\" quoth he.\n\n\"You are the best judge of all,\" replied King Conor.\n\n\"Then I must have time--three days and nights--to decide,\" said\nAilill.\n\n\"We can spare our heroes so long,\" quoth Conor, and therewith the\nUlster men returned to Armagh, leaving the three claimants to the\nChampionship at Cruachan.\n\n\nThe First Test\n\nThat night Ailill put them to an unexpected test. Their feast was\nserved to them in a separate room, and the king went to his\nprotectors, the Fairy People of the Hills, in the Good People's Hill\nat Cruachan, and begged some help in his judgment. They willingly\naided him, and three magic beasts, in the shape of monstrous cats,\nwere let into the room where the heroes feasted. When they saw them\nLaegaire and Conall rose up from their meal, clambered up among the\nrafters, and stayed there all night. Cuchulain waited till one\nattacked him, and then drawing his sword, struck the monster. It\nshowed no further sign of fight, and Cuchulain kept watch all night,\ntill the magic beasts disappeared at daybreak. When Ailill came into\nthe room and saw the heroes as they had spent the night he laughed as\nhe said:\n\n\"Are you not content to yield the Championship to Cuchulain?\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Three monstrous cats were let into the room\"]\n\n\"Indeed no,\" said Conall and Laegaire. \"We are used to fighting men,\nnot monstrous beasts.\"\n\n\nThe Second Test\n\nThe next day King Ailill sent the heroes to his own foster-father,\nErcol, to spend a night with him, that he also might test them. When\nthey arrived, and had feasted, Laegaire was sent out that night to\nfight the witches of the valley. Fierce and terrible were these\nwitches, and they beat Laegaire, and took his arms and armour.\n\nWhen Conall went to fight them the witches beat him and took his\nspear, but he kept his sword and brought it back with honour.\nCuchulain, who was the youngest, went last, and he too was being\nbeaten, when the taunts of his chariot-driver, who was watching,\naroused him, and he beat the witches, and bore off in triumph their\ncloaks of battle. Yet even after this the other two heroes would not\nacknowledge Cuchulain's superiority.\n\n\nErcol's Defeat\n\nThe next day Ercol fought with each champion separately, and conquered\nboth Laegaire and Conall, terrifying the former so much that he fled\nto Cruachan and told Meave and Ailill that Ercol had killed the other\ntwo. When Cuchulain arrived victorious, with Ercol tied captive at his\nchariot-wheels, he found all men mourning for him and Conall as for\nthe dead.\n\n\nMeave's Plan to Avoid Strife in Cruachan\n\nNow indeed Ailill was in great perplexity, for he durst not delay his\ndecision, and he dreaded the wrath of the two disappointed heroes. He\nand Queen Meave consulted long together, and at length Meave promised\nto relieve him of the responsibility of judgment. Summoning Laegaire\nto the king's room, she said:\n\n\"Welcome, O Laegaire! You are greatest of the warriors of Ulster. To\nyou we give the headship of the heroes of Ireland and the Champion's\nPortion, and to your wife the right to walk first of all the women of\nUlster. In token thereof we give you this cup of bronze with a silver\nbird embossed, to be seen by no man till you be come to King Conor in\nthe Red Branch House at Armagh. Then show your cup and claim your\nright, and none will dispute it with you.\"\n\nSo Laegaire went away well pleased, and they sent for Conall. To him\nthey gave a silver cup, with a bird embossed in gold, and to him they\npretended to adjudge the Championship, and Conall left them well\ncontent.\n\nCuchulain, who was playing chess, refused to attend the King of\nConnaught when he was summoned, and Queen Meave had to entreat him to\ncome to their private room. There they gave him a golden cup, with a\nbird designed in precious gems, with many words of flattery for\nCuchulain and his fair and noble wife, Emer.\n\n\nThe Return of the Champions\n\nNow the heroes, each well content, bade farewell to the court at\nCruachan, and drove back to Armagh, but none durst ask how they had\nsped. That evening, at the banquet, when the Champion's Portion was\nset aside, Laegaire arose and claimed it, showing as proof that his\nclaim was just the bronze cup he brought from Queen Meave.\n\nBut alas! Conall the Victorious had a silver cup, and while he was\nexulting in this proof of his rightful claim to the championship\nCuchulain produced his golden cup, and the dispute began all over\nagain. King Conor would have allowed Cuchulain's claim, but Laegaire\nvowed that his rival had bribed Ailill and Meave with great treasures\nto give him the golden cup, and neither Laegaire nor Conall would\nyield him the victory or accept the judgment as final. \"Then you must\ngo to Curoi,\" said the king, and to that they all agreed.\n\n\nThe Champions Visit Curoi\n\nThe next day the three champions drove to Kerry where Curoi dwelt in a\nmagic dun. He was away from home planning enchantments to test them,\nfor he knew they were coming, but his wife welcomed them, and bade\nthem watch the dun for one night each, beginning with Laegaire, as the\neldest. Laegaire took up his sentinel's post outside the dun, and\nCuroi's wife worked the charm which prevented entrance after\nnightfall. The night was long and silent, and Laegaire thought he\nwould have a quiet watch, when he saw a great shadow arise from the\nsea.\n\n\nThe Giant Fights Laegaire and Conall\n\nThis shadow took the shape of a huge giant, whose spears were mighty\nbranch-stripped oaks, which he hurled at Laegaire. They did not touch\nhim, however, and Laegaire made some show of fight; but the giant took\nhim up, squeezed him so tightly as nearly to slay him, and then threw\nhim over the magic wall of the dun, where the others found him lying\nhalf dead. All men thought that he had sprung with a mighty leap over\nthe wall, since no other entrance was to be found, and Laegaire kept\nsilence and did not explain to them.\n\nConall, who took the watch the second night, fared exactly as Laegaire\nhad done, and likewise did not confess how he had been thrown over\nthe wall of the dun, nor what became of the giant in the dawn.\n\n\nCuchulain's Trials\n\nThe third night was Cuchulain's watch, and he took his post outside\nthe dun, and the gates and wall were secured by magic spells, so that\nnone could enter. Vainly he watched till midnight, and then he thought\nhe saw nine grey shadowy forms creeping towards him.\n\n\"Who goes there?\" he cried. \"If you be friends, stop; if foes, come\non!\" Then the nine shadowy foes raised a shout, and fell upon the\nhero; but he fought hard and slew them, and beheaded them. A second\nand a third time similar groups of vague, shadowy foemen rushed at\nhim, and he slew them all in like manner, and then, wearied out, sat\ndown to rest.\n\n\nThe Dragon\n\nLater on in the night, as he was still watching, he heard a heavy\nsound, like waves surging in the lake, and when he roused himself to\nsee what it was he beheld a monstrous dragon. It was rising from the\nwater and flying towards the dun, and seemed ready to devour\neverything in its way. When the dragon perceived him it soared swiftly\ninto the air, and then gradually sank towards him, opening its\nterrible jaws. Cuchulain sprang up, giving his wonderful hero-leap,\nand thrust his arm into the dragon's mouth and down its throat; he\nfound its heart, tore it out, and saw the monster fall dead on the\nground. He then cut off its scaly head, which he added to those of his\nformer enemies.\n\n[Illustration: \"The dragon sank towards him, opening its terrible\njaws\"]\n\n\nThe Giant Worsted by Cuchulain\n\nTowards daybreak, when feeling quite worn out and very sleepy, he\nbecame slowly aware of a great shadow coming to him westward from the\nsea. The shadow, as before, became a giant, who greeted him in a surly\ntone with, \"This is a bad night.\" \"It will be worse yet for you,\" said\nCuchulain. The giant, as he had done with the other heroes, threw\noaks, but just missed him; and when he tried to grapple with him the\nhero leaped up with drawn sword. In his anger the hero-light shone\nround him, and he sprang as high as the giant's head, and gave him a\nstroke that brought him to his knees. \"Life for life, Cuchulain,\" said\nthe giant, and vanished at once, leaving no trace.\n\n\nCuchulain Re-enters the Dun\n\nNow Cuchulain would gladly have returned to the fort to rest, but\nthere seemed no way of entrance, and the hero was vexed at his own\nhelplessness, for he thought his comrades had jumped over the magic\nwalls. Twice he boldly essayed to leap the lofty wall, and twice he\nfailed; then in his wrath his great strength came upon him, the\nhero-light shone round him, and he took a little run and, leaning on\nhis spear, leaped so high and so far that he alighted in the middle of\nthe court, just before the door of the hall.\n\nAs he sighed heavily and wearily, Curoi's wife said: \"That is the sigh\nof a weary conqueror, not of a beaten man\"; and Cuchulain went in and\nsat down to rest.\n\n\nThe Decision\n\nThe next morning Curoi's wife asked the champions: \"Are you content\nthat the Championship should go to Cuchulain? I know by my magic skill\nwhat he has endured in the past night, and you must see that you are\nnot equal to him.\"\n\n\"Nay, that we will not allow,\" quoth they. \"It was one of Cuchulain's\nfriends among the People of the Hills who came to conquer us and to\ngive him the Championship. We are not content, and we will not give up\nour claim, for the fight was not fair.\"\n\n\"Go home now to Armagh, is Curoi's word, and wait there until he\nhimself brings his decision,\" said Curoi's wife. So they bade her\nfarewell, and went back to the Red Branch House in Armagh, with the\ndispute still unsettled; but they agreed to await peaceably Curoi's\ndecision, and abide by it when he should bring it.\n\n\nUath, the Stranger\n\nSome time after this, when Curoi had made no sign of giving judgment,\nit happened that all the Ulster heroes were in their places in the Red\nBranch House, except Cuchulain and his cousin Conall. As they sat in\norder of rank in the hall they saw a terrible stranger coming into the\nroom. He was gigantic in stature, hideous of aspect, with ravening\nyellow eyes. He wore a skin roughly sewn together, and a grey cloak\nover it, and he sheltered himself from the light with a spreading tree\ntorn up by the roots. In his hand he bore an enormous axe, with keen\nand shining edge. This hideous apparition strode up the hall and leant\nagainst a carved pillar beside the fire.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked one chieftain in sport. \"Are you come to be our\ncandlestick, or would you burn the house down? Is this the place for\nsuch as you? Go farther down the hall!\"\n\n\"My name is Uath, the Stranger, and for neither of those things am I\ncome. I seek that which I cannot find in the whole world, and that is\na man to keep the agreement he makes with me.\"\n\n\nThe Agreement\n\n\"What is the agreement?\" asked King Conor.\n\n\"Behold my axe!\" quoth the stranger. \"The man who will grasp it\nto-day may cut my head off with it, provided that I may, in like\nmanner, cut off his head to-morrow. Now you men of Ulster, heroes of\nthe Red Branch, have won the palm through the wide world for courage,\nhonour, strength, truth, and generosity; do you, therefore, find me a\nman to keep this agreement. King Conor is excepted, because of his\nroyal dignity, but no other. And if you have no champion who dare face\nme, I will say that Ulster has lost her courage and is dishonoured.\"\n\n\"It is not right for a whole province to be disgraced for lack of a\nman to keep his word,\" said King Conor, \"but I fear we have no such\nchampions here.\"\n\n\nLaegaire Accepts the Challenge\n\n\"By my word,\" said Laegaire, who had listened attentively to the whole\nconversation, \"there will be a champion this very moment. Stoop down,\nfellow, and let me cut off your head, that you may take mine\nto-morrow.\"\n\nThen Uath chanted magic spells over the axe as he stroked the edge,\nand laid his neck on a block, and Laegaire hewed so hard that the axe\nsevered the head from the body and struck deep into the block. Then\nthe body of Uath arose, took up the head and the axe, and strode away\ndown the hall, all people shrinking out of its way, and so it passed\nout into the night.\n\n[Illustration: \"The body of Uath arose\"]\n\n\"If this terrible stranger returns to-morrow he will slay us all,\"\nthey whispered, as they looked pityingly at Laegaire, who was trying\nin vain to show no signs of apprehension.\n\n\nLaegaire and Conall Disgraced\n\nWhen the next evening came, and men sat in the Red Branch House,\ntalking little and waiting for what would happen, in came Uath, the\nStranger, as well and sound as before the terrible blow, bearing his\naxe, and eager to return the stroke. Alas! Laegaire's heart had failed\nhim and he did not come, and the stranger jeered at the men of Ulster\nbecause their great champion durst not keep his agreement, nor face\nthe blow he should receive in return for one he gave.\n\nThe men of Ulster were utterly ashamed, but Conall Cearnach, the\nVictorious, was present that night, and he made a new agreement with\nUath. Conall gave a blow which beheaded Uath, but again, when the\nstranger returned whole and sound on the following evening, the\nchampion was not to be found: Conall would not face the blow.\n\n\nCuchulain Accepts the Challenge\n\nWhen Uath found that a second hero of Ulster had failed him he again\ntaunted them all with cowardice and promise-breaking.\n\n\"What! is there not one man of courage among you Ulstermen? You would\nfain have a great name, but have no courage to earn it! Great heroes\nare you all! Not one among you has bravery enough to face me! Where is\nthat childish youth Cuchulain! A poor miserable fellow he is, but I\nwould like to see if his word is better to be relied on than the word\nof these two great heroes.\"\n\n\"A youth I may be,\" said Cuchulain, \"but I will keep my word without\nany agreement.\"\n\nUath laughed aloud. \"Yes! that is likely, is it not? And you with so\ngreat a fear of death!\"\n\nThereupon the youth leapt up, caught the deadly axe, and severed the\ngiant's head as he stood with one stroke.\n\n\nCuchulain Stands the Test\n\nThe next day the Red Branch heroes watched Cuchulain to see what he\nwould do. They would not have been surprised if he had failed like the\nothers, who now were present. The champion, however, showed no signs\nof failing or retreat. He sat sorrowfully in his place waiting for the\ncertain death that must come, and regretting his rashness, but with no\nthought of breaking his word.\n\nWith a sigh he said to King Conor as they waited: \"Do not leave this\nplace till all is over. Death is coming to me very surely, but I must\nfulfil my agreement, for I would rather die than break my word.\"\n\nTowards the close of day Uath strode into the hall exultant.\n\n\"Where is Cuchulain?\" he cried.\n\n\"Here I am,\" was the reply.\n\n\"Ah, poor boy! your speech is sad to-night, and the fear of death lies\nheavy on you; but at least you have redeemed your word and have not\nfailed me.\"\n\nThe youth rose from his seat and went towards Uath, as he stood with\nthe great axe ready, and knelt to receive the blow.\n\n\nCuroi's Decision and Cuchulain's Victory\n\nThe hero of Ulster laid his head on the block; but Uath was not\nsatisfied. \"Stretch out your neck better,\" said he.\n\n\"You are playing with me, to torment me,\" said Cuchulain. \"Slay me now\nspeedily, for I did not keep you waiting last night.\"\n\nHowever, he stretched out his neck as Uath bade, and the stranger\nraised his axe till it crashed upwards through the rafters of the\nhall, like the crash of trees falling in a storm. When the axe came\ndown with a terrific sound all men looked fearfully at Cuchulain. The\ndescending axe had not even touched him; it had come down with the\nblunt side on the ground, and the youth knelt there unharmed. Smiling\nat him, and leaning on his axe, stood no terrible and hideous\nstranger, but Curoi of Kerry, come to give his decision at last.\n\n\"Rise up, Cuchulain,\" said Curoi. \"There is none among all the heroes\nof Ulster to equal you in courage and loyalty and truth. The\nChampionship of the Heroes of Ireland is yours from this day forth,\nand the Champion's Portion at all feasts; and to your wife I adjudge\nthe first place among all the women of Ulster. Woe to him who dares to\ndispute this decision!\" Thereupon Curoi vanished, and the Red Branch\nwarriors gathered around Cuchulain, and all with one voice acclaimed\nhim the Champion of the Heroes of all Ireland--a title which has clung\nto him until this day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X: THE TALE OF GAMELYN\n\n\nThe \"Wicked Brothers\" Theme\n\nThe tale of \"Gamelyn\" is a variant of the old fairy-tale subject of\nthe Wicked Elder Brothers, one of the oldest and most interesting\nversions of which may still be read in the Biblical story of Joseph\nand his brethren. Usually a father dies leaving three sons, of whom\nthe two elder are worthless and the youngest rises to high honour,\nwhereupon the elder brothers try to kill the youngest from envy at his\ngood fortune. A similar root-idea is found in \"Cinderella\" and other\nfairy-tales of girls, but in these there may usually be found a cruel\nstepmother and two contemptuous stepsisters--a noteworthy variation\nwhich seems to point to some deep-rooted idea that the ties of blood\nare stronger among women than among men.\n\n\nLiterary Influence of the \"Gamelyn\" Story\n\nThe story of \"Gamelyn\" has two great claims to our attention: it is,\nthrough Lodge's \"Euphues' Golden Legacy,\" the ultimate source of\nShakespeare's _As You Like It_, and it seems to be the earliest\npresentment in English literature of the figure of \"the noble outlaw.\"\nIn fact, Gamelyn is probably the literary ancestor of \"bold Robin\nHood,\" and stands for an English ideal of justice and equity, against\nlegal oppression and wickedness in high places. He shows, too, the\nlove of free life, of the merry greenwood and the open road, which\nreappears after so many centuries in the work of Robert Louis\nStevenson.\n\n\nThe Story\n\nIn the reign of King Edward I. there dwelt in Lincolnshire, near the\nvast expanse of the Fens, a noble gentleman, Sir John of the Marches.\nHe was now old, but was still a model of all courtesy and a \"very\nperfect gentle knight.\" He had three sons, of whom the youngest,\nGamelyn, was born in his father's old age, and was greatly beloved by\nthe old man; the other two were much older than he, and John, the\neldest, had already developed a vicious and malignant character.\nGamelyn and his second brother, Otho, reverenced their father, but\nJohn had no respect or obedience for the good gentleman, and was the\nchief trouble of his declining years, as Gamelyn was his chief joy.\n\n\nThe Father Feels his End Approaching\n\nAt last old age and weakness overcame the worthy old Sir John, and he\nwas forced to take to his bed, where he lay sadly meditating on his\nchildren's future, and wondering how to divide his possessions justly\namong the three. There was no difficulty of inheritance or\nprimogeniture, for all the knight's lands were held in fee-simple, and\nnot in entail, so that he might bequeath them as he would. Sir John of\nthe Marches, fearing lest he should commit an injustice, sent\nthroughout the district for wise knights, begging them to come\nhastily, if they wished to see him alive, and help him. When the\ncountry squires and lords, his near neighbours, heard of his grave\ncondition, they hurried to the castle, and gathered in the bedchamber,\nwhere the dying knight greeted them thus: \"Lords and gentlemen, I warn\nyou in truth that I may no longer live; by the will of God death lays\nhis hand upon me.\" When they heard this they tried to encourage him,\nby bidding him remember that God can provide a remedy for every\ndisease, and the good knight received their kindly words without\ndispute. \"That God can send remedy for an ill I will never deny; but\nI beseech you, for my sake, to divide my lands among my three sons.\nFor the love of God deal justly, and forget not my youngest, Gamelyn.\nSeldom does any heir to an estate help his brothers after his father's\ndeath.\"\n\n\nHow Shall he Dispose of his Estate?\n\nThe friends whom Sir John had summoned deliberated long over the\ndisposal of the estate. The majority wished to give all to the eldest\nson, but a strong minority urged the claims of the second, but all\nagreed that Gamelyn might wait till his eldest brother chose to give\nhim a share of his father's lands. At last it was decided to divide\nthe inheritance between the two elder sons, and the knights returned\nto the chamber where the brave old knight lay dying, and told him\ntheir decision. He summoned up strength enough to protest against\ntheir plan of distribution, and said:\n\n \"'Nay, by St. Martin, I can yet bequeath\n My lands to whom I wish: they still are mine.\n Then hearken, neighbours, while I make my will.\n To John, my eldest son, and heir, I leave\n Five ploughlands, my dead father's heritage;\n My second, Otho, ploughlands five shall hold,\n Which my good right hand won in valiant strife;\n All else I own, in lands and goods and wealth,\n To Gamelyn, my youngest, I devise;\n And I beseech you, for the love of God,\n Forsake him not, but guard his helpless youth\n And let him not be plundered of his wealth.'\"\n\nThen Sir John, satisfied with having proclaimed his will, died with\nChristian resignation, leaving his little son Gamelyn in the power of\nthe cruel eldest brother, now, in his turn, Sir John.\n\n\nThe Cruel Eldest Son\n\nSince the boy was a minor, the new knight, as natural guardian,\nassumed the control of Gamelyn's land, vassals, education, and\nnurture; and full evilly he discharged his duties, for he clothed and\nfed him badly, and neglected his lands, so that his parks and houses,\nhis farms and villages, fell into ruinous decay. The boy, when he grew\nolder, noticed this and resented it, but did not realize the power in\nhis own broad limbs and mighty sinews to redress his wrongs, though by\nthe time he fully understood his injuries no man would dare to face\nhim in fight when he was angry, so strong a youth had he become.\n\n\nGamelyn Resists\n\nWhile Gamelyn, one day, walking in the hall, mused on the ruin of all\nhis inheritance, Sir John came blustering in, and, seeing him, called\nout: \"How now: is dinner ready?\" Enraged at being addressed as if he\nwere a mere servant, he replied angrily: \"Go and do your own baking; I\nam not your cook.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Go and do your own baking!\"]\n\nSir John almost doubted the evidence of his ears. \"What, my dear\nbrother, is that the way to answer? Thou hast never addressed me so\nbefore!\"\n\n\"No,\" replied Gamelyn; \"until now I have never considered all the\nwrong you have done me. My parks are broken open, my deer are driven\noff; you have deprived me of my armour and my steeds; all that my\nfather bequeathed to me is falling into ruin and decay. God's curse\nupon you, false brother!\"\n\nSir John was now enraged beyond all measure, and shouted: \"Stand\nstill, vagabond, and hold thy peace! What right hast thou to speak of\nland or vassals? Thou shalt learn to be grateful for food and\nraiment.\"\n\n\"A curse upon him that calls me vagabond! I am no worse than\nyourself; I am the son of a lady and a good knight.\"\n\n\nGamelyn Terrifies the Household\n\nIn spite of all his anger, Sir John was a cautious man, with a prudent\nregard for his own safety. He would not risk an encounter with\nGamelyn, but summoned his servants and bade them beat him well, till\nhe should learn better manners. But when the boy understood his\nbrother's intention he vowed that he would not be beaten alone--others\nshould suffer too, and Sir John not the least. Thereupon, leaping on\nto the wall, he seized a pestle which lay there, and so boldly\nattacked the timid servants, though they were armed with staves, that\nhe drove them in flight, and laid on furious strokes which quenched\nthe small spark of courage in them. Sir John had not even that small\namount of bravery: he fled to a loft and barred the door, while\nGamelyn cleared the hall with his pestle, and scoffed at the cowardly\ngrooms who fled so soon from the strife they had begun. When he sought\nfor his brother he could not see him at first, but afterwards\nperceived his sorry countenance peeping from a window. \"Brother,\" said\nGamelyn, \"come a little nearer, and I will teach you how to play with\nstaff and buckler.\"\n\n\"Nay, by St. Richard, I will not descend till thou hast put down that\npestle. Brother, be no more enraged, and I will make peace with thee.\nI swear it by the grace of God!\"\n\n\"I was forced to defend myself,\" said Gamelyn, \"or your menials would\nhave injured and degraded me: I could not let grooms beat a good\nknight's son; but now grant me one boon, and we shall soon be\nreconciled.\"\n\n\nSir John's Guile\n\n\"Yes, certainly, brother; ask thy boon, and I will grant it readily.\nBut indeed I was only testing thee, for thou art so young that I\ndoubted thy strength and manliness. It was only a pretence of beating\nthat I meant.\"\n\n\"This is my request,\" said the boy: \"if there is to be peace between\nus you must surrender to me all that my father bequeathed me while he\nwas alive.\"\n\nTo this Sir John consented with apparent willingness, and even\npromised to repair the decayed mansions and restore the lands and\nfarms to their former prosperity; but though he feigned content with\nthe agreement and kissed his brother with outward affection yet he was\ninwardly meditating plans of treachery against the unsuspecting youth.\n\n\nA Wrestling Match\n\nShortly after this quarrel between the brothers a wrestling\ncompetition was announced, the winner of which would become the owner\nof a fine ram and a ring of gold, and Gamelyn determined to try his\npowers. Accordingly he begged the loan of \"a little courser\" from Sir\nJohn, who offered him his choice of all the steeds in the stable, and\nthen curiously questioned him as to his errand. The lad explained that\nhe wished to compete in the wrestling match, hoping to win honour by\nbearing away the prize; then, springing on the beautiful courser that\nwas brought him ready saddled, he spurred his horse and rode away\nmerrily, while the false Sir John locked the gate behind him, praying\nthat he might get his neck broken in the contest. The boy rode along,\nrejoicing in his youth and strength, singing as he went, till he drew\nnear the appointed place, and then he suddenly heard a man's voice\nlamenting aloud and crying, \"Wellaway! Alas!\" and saw a venerable\nyeoman wringing his hands. \"Good man,\" said Gamelyn, \"why art thou in\nsuch distress? Can no man help thee?\"\n\n\nA Dreaded Champion\n\n\"Alas!\" said the yeoman. \"Woe to the day on which I was born! The\nchampion wrestler here has overthrown my two stalwart sons, and unless\nGod help them they must die of their grievous hurts. I would give ten\npounds to find a man to avenge on him the injuries done to my dear\nsons.\"\n\n\"Good man, hold my horse while my groom takes my coat and shoes, and I\nwill try my luck and strength against this doughty champion.\"\n\n\"Thank God!\" said the yeoman. \"I will do it at once; I will guard thy\ncoat and shoes and good steed safely--and may Jesus Christ speed thee\nwell!\"\n\n\nGamelyn Enters\n\nWhen Gamelyn entered the ring, barefooted and stripped for wrestling,\nall men gazed curiously at the rash youth who dared to challenge the\nstalwart champion, and the great man himself, rising from the ground,\nstrolled across to meet Gamelyn and said haughtily: \"Who is thy\nfather, and what is thy name? Thou art, forsooth, a young fool to come\nhere!\"\n\nGamelyn answered equally haughtily: \"Thou knewest well my father while\nhe lived: he was Sir John of the Marches, and I am his youngest son,\nGamelyn.\"\n\nThe champion replied: \"Boy, I knew thy father well in his lifetime,\nand I have heard of thee, and nothing good: thou hast always been in\nmischief.\"\n\n\"Now I am older thou shalt know me better,\" said Gamelyn.\n\n\nDefeats the Champion\n\nThe wrestling had lasted till late in the evening, and the moon was\nshining on the scene when Gamelyn and the champion began their\nstruggle. The wrestler tried many wily tricks, but the boy was ready\nfor them all, and stood steady against all that his opponent could do.\nThen, in his turn, he took the offensive, grasped his adversary round\nthe waist, and cast him so heavily to the ground that three ribs were\nbroken, and his left arm. Then the victor said mockingly:\n\n\"Shall we count that a cast, or not reckon it?\"\n\n\"By heaven! whether it be one or no, any man in thy hand will never\nthrive,\" said the champion painfully.\n\nThe yeoman, who had watched the match with great anxiety, now broke\nout with blessings: \"Blessed be thou, young sir, that ever thou wert\nborn!\" and now taunting the fallen champion, said: \"It was young\n'Mischief' who taught thee this game.\"\n\n\"He is master of us all,\" said the champion. \"In all my years of\nwrestling I have never been mishandled so cruelly.\"\n\nNow the victor stood in the ring, ready for more wrestling, but no man\nwould venture to compete with him, and the two judges who kept order\nand awarded the prizes bade him retire, for no other competitor could\nbe found to face him.\n\nBut he was a little disappointed at this easy victory. \"Is the fair\nover? Why, I have not half sold my wares,\" he said.\n\nThe champion was still capable of grim jesting. \"Now, as I value my\nlife, any purchaser of your wares is a fool; you sell so dearly.\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" broke in the yeoman; \"you have bought your share full\ncheap, and made a good bargain.\"\n\n\nHe Wins the Prizes\n\nWhile this short conversation had been going on the judges had\nreturned to their seats, and formally awarded the prize to Gamelyn,\nand now came to him, bearing the ram and the ring for his acceptance.\n\nGamelyn took them gladly, and went home the next morning, followed by\na cheering crowd of admirers; but when the cowardly Sir John saw the\npeople he bolted the castle doors against his more favourite and\nsuccessful brother.\n\n\nHe Overcomes his Brother's Servants\n\nThe porter, obeying his master's commands, refused Gamelyn entrance;\nand the youth, enraged at this insult, broke down the door with one\nblow, caught the fleeing porter, and flung him down the well in the\ncourtyard. His brother's servants fled from his anger, and the crowd\nthat had accompanied him swarmed into courtyard and hall, while the\nknight took refuge in a little turret.\n\n\"Welcome to you all,\" said Gamelyn. \"We will be masters here and ask\nno man's leave. Yesterday I left five tuns of wine in the cellar; we\nwill drain them dry before you go. If my brother objects (as he well\nmay, for he is a miser) I will be butler and caterer and manage the\nwhole feast. Any person who dares to object may join the porter in the\nwell.\"\n\nNaturally no objections were raised, and Gamelyn and his friends held\nhigh revel for a week, while Sir John lay hidden in his turret,\nterrified at the noise and revelry, and dreading what his brother\nmight do to him now he had so great a following.\n\n\nA Reckoning with Sir John\n\nHowever, the guests departed quietly on the eighth day, leaving\nGamelyn alone, and very sorrowful, in the hall where he had held high\nrevel. As he stood there, musing sadly, he heard a timid footstep, and\nsaw his brother creeping towards him. When he had attracted Gamelyn's\nattention he spoke out loudly: \"Who made thee so bold as to destroy\nall my household stores?\"\n\n\"Nay, brother, be not wroth,\" said the youth quietly. \"If I have used\nanything I have paid for it fully beforehand. For these sixteen years\nyou have had full use and profit of fifteen good ploughlands which my\nfather left me; you have also the use and increase of all my cattle\nand horses; and now all this past profit I abandon to you, in return\nfor the expense of this feast of mine.\"\n\nThen said the treacherous Sir John: \"Hearken, my dear brother: I have\nno son, and thou shalt be my heir--I swear by the holy St. John.\"\n\n\"In faith,\" said Gamelyn, \"if that be the case, and if this offer be\nmade in all sincerity, may God reward you!\" for it was impossible for\nhis generous disposition to suspect his brother of treachery and to\nfathom the wiles of a crafty nature; hence it happened that he was so\nsoon and easily beguiled.\n\n\nGamelyn Allows Himself to be Chained\n\nSir John hesitated a moment, and then said doubtfully: \"There is one\nthing I must tell you, Gamelyn. When you threw my porter into the well\nI swore in my wrath that I would have you bound hand and foot. That is\nimpossible now without your consent, and I must be forsworn unless you\nwill let yourself be bound for a moment, as a mere form, just to save\nme from the sin of perjury.\"\n\nSo sincere Sir John seemed, and so simple did the whole thing appear,\nthat Gamelyn consented at once. \"Why, certainly, brother, you shall\nnot be forsworn for my sake.\" So he sat down, and the servants bound\nhim hand and foot; and then Sir John looked mockingly at him as he\nsaid: \"So now, my fine brother, I have you caught at last.\" Then he\nbade them bring fetters and rivet them on Gamelyn's limbs, and chain\nhim fast to a post in the centre of the hall. Then he was placed on\nhis feet with his back to the post and his hands manacled behind him,\nand as he stood there the false brother told every person who entered\nthat Gamelyn had suddenly gone mad, and was chained for safety's sake,\nlest he should do himself or others some deadly hurt. For two long\ndays and nights he stood there bound, with no food or drink, and grew\nfaint with hunger and weariness, for his fetters were so tight that he\ncould not sit or lie down; bitterly he lamented the carelessness which\nmade him fall such an easy prey to his treacherous brother's designs.\n\n\nAdam Spencer to the Rescue\n\nWhen all others had left the hall Gamelyn appealed to old Adam\nSpencer, the steward of the household, a loyal old servant who had\nknown Sir John of the Marches, and had watched the boy grow up. \"Adam\nSpencer,\" quoth he, \"unless my brother is minded to slay me, I am kept\nfasting too long. I beseech thee, for the great love my father bore\nthee, get the keys and release me from my bonds. I will share all my\nfree land with thee if thou wilt help me in this distress.\"\n\nThe poor old servant was greatly perplexed. He knew not how to\nreconcile his grateful loyalty to his dead master with the loyalty due\nto his present lord, and he said doubtfully: \"I have served thy\nbrother for sixteen years, and if I release thee now he will\nrightly call me a traitor.\" \"Ah, Adam! thou wilt find him a false\nrogue at the last, as I have done. Release me, dear friend Adam, and I\nwill be true to my agreement, and will keep my covenant to share my\nland with thee.\" By these earnest words the steward was persuaded,\nand, waiting till Sir John was safely in bed, managed to obtain\npossession of the keys and release Gamelyn, who stretched his arms and\nlegs and thanked God for his liberty. \"Now,\" said he, \"if I were but\nwell fed no one in this house should bind me again to-night.\" So Adam\ntook him to a private room and set food before him; eagerly he ate and\ndrank till his hunger was satisfied and he began to think of revenge.\n\"What is your advice, Adam? Shall I go to my brother and strike off\nhis head? He well merits it.\"\n\n\nA Plan of Escape\n\n\"No,\" answered Adam, \"I know a better plan than that. Sir John is to\ngive a great feast on Sunday to many Churchmen and prelates; there\nwill be present a great number of abbots and priors and other holy\nmen. Do you stand as if bound by your post in the hall, and beseech\nthem to release you. If they will be surety for you, your liberty will\nbe gained with no blame to me; if they all refuse, you shall cast\naside the unlocked chains, and you and I, with two good staves, can\nsoon win your freedom. Christ's curse on him who fails his comrade!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" quoth Gamelyn, \"evil may I thrive if I fail in my part of the\nbargain! But if we must needs help them to do penance for their sins,\nyou must warn me, brother Adam, when to begin.\"\n\n\"By St. Charity, master, I will give you good warning. When I wink at\nyou be ready to cast away your fetters at once and come to me.\"\n\n\"This is good advice of yours, Adam, and blessings on your head. If\nthese haughty Churchmen refuse to be surety for me I will give them\ngood strokes in payment.\"\n\n\nA Great Feast\n\nSunday came, and after mass many guests thronged to the feast in the\ngreat hall; they all stared curiously at Gamelyn as he stood with his\nhands behind him, apparently chained to his post, and Sir John\nexplained sadly that he, after slaying the porter and wasting the\nhousehold stores, had gone mad, and was obliged to be chained, for his\nfury was dangerous. The servants carried dainty dishes round the\ntable, and beakers of rich wines, but though Gamelyn cried aloud that\nhe was fasting no food was brought to him. Then he spoke pitifully and\nhumbly to the noble guests: \"Lords, for Christ's sake help a poor\ncaptive out of prison.\" But the guests were hard-hearted, and answered\ncruelly, especially the abbots and priors, who had been deceived by\nSir John's false tales. So harshly did they reply to the youth's\nhumble petition that he grew angry. \"Oh,\" said he, \"that is all the\nanswer I am to have to my prayer! Now I see that I have no friends.\nCursed be he that ever does good to abbot or prior!\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Lords, for Christ's sake help poor Gamelyn out of\nprison!\"]\n\n\nThe Banquet Disturbed\n\nAdam Spencer, busied about the removal of the cloth, looked anxiously\nat Gamelyn, and saw how angry he grew. He thought little more of his\nservice, but, making a pretext to go to the pantry, brought two good\noak staves, and stood them beside the hall door. Then he winked\nmeaningly at Gamelyn, who with a sudden shout flung off his chains,\nrushed to the hall door, seized a staff, and began to lay about him\nlustily, whirling his weapon as lightly as if it had been a holy\nwater sprinkler. There was a dreadful commotion in the hall, for the\nportly Churchmen tried to escape, but the mere laymen loved Gamelyn,\nand drew aside to give him free play, so that he was able to scatter\nthe prelates. Now he had no pity on these cruel Churchmen, as they had\nbeen without pity for him; he knocked them over, battered them, broke\ntheir arms and legs, and wrought terrible havoc among them; and during\nthis time Adam Spencer kept the door so that none might escape. He\ncalled aloud to Gamelyn to respect the sanctity of men of Holy Church\nand shed no blood, but if he should by chance break arms and legs\nthere would be no sacrilege, because no blood need be shed.\n\n\nSir John in Chains\n\nThus Gamelyn worked his will, laying hands on monks and friars, and\nsent them home wounded in carts and waggons, while some of them\nmuttered: \"We were better at home, with mere bread and water, than\nhere where we have had such a sorry feast!\" Then Gamelyn turned his\nattention to his false brother, who had been unable to escape, seized\nhim by the neck, broke his backbone with one blow from his staff, and\nthrust him, sitting, into the fetters that yet hung from the post\nwhere Gamelyn had stood. \"Sit there, brother, and cool thy blood,\"\nsaid Gamelyn, as he and Adam sat down to a feast, at which the\nservants waited on them eagerly, partly from love and partly from\nfear.\n\n\nThe Sheriff's Men Appear\n\nNow the sheriff happened to be only five miles away, and soon heard\nthe news of this disturbance, and how Gamelyn and Adam had broken the\nking's peace; and, as his duty was, he determined to arrest the\nlaw-breakers. Twenty-four of his best men were sent to the castle to\ngain admittance and arrest Gamelyn and his steward; but the new\nporter, a devoted adherent of Gamelyn, denied them entrance till he\nknew their errand; when they refused to tell it, he sent a servant to\nrouse Gamelyn and warn him that the sheriff's men stood before the\ngate.\n\n \"Then answered Gamelyn: 'Good porter, go;\n Delay my foes with fair speech at the gate\n Till I relieve thee with some cunning wile.\n If I o'erlive this strait, I will requite\n Thy truth and loyalty. Adam,' quoth he,\n 'Our foes are on us, and we have no friend--\n The sheriff's men surround us, and have sworn\n A mighty oath to take us: we must go\n Whither our safety calls us.' He replied:\n 'Go where thou wilt, I follow to the last\n Or die forlorn: but this proud sheriffs troop\n Will flee before our onset, to the fens.'\"\n\n\nThe Sheriff Arrives\n\nAs Gamelyn and Adam looked round for weapons the former saw a\ncart-staff, a stout post used for propping up the shafts; this he\nseized, and ran out at the little postern gate, followed by Adam with\nanother staff. They caught the sheriff's twenty-four bold men in the\nrear, and when Gamelyn had felled three, and Adam two, the rest took\nto their heels. \"What!\" said Adam as they fled. \"Drink a draught of my\ngood wine! I am steward here.\" \"Nay,\" they shouted back; \"such wine as\nyours scatters a man's brains far too thoroughly.\" Now this little\nfray was hardly ended before the sheriff came in person with a great\ntroop. Gamelyn knew not what to do, but Adam again had a plan ready.\n\"Let us stay no longer, but go to the greenwood: there we shall at\nleast be at liberty.\" The advice suited Gamelyn, and each drank a\ndraught of wine, mounted his steed, and lightly rode away, leaving\nthe empty nest for the sheriff, with no eggs therein. However, that\nofficer dismounted, entered the hall, and found Sir John fettered and\nnearly dying. He released him, and summoned a leech, who healed his\ngrievous wound, and enabled him to do more mischief.\n\n\nGamelyn Goes to the Greenwood\n\nMeanwhile Adam wandered with Gamelyn in the greenwood, and found it\nvery hard work, with little food. He complained aloud to his young\nlord:\n\n \"'Would I were back in mine old stewardship--\n Full blithe were I, the keys to bear and keep!\n I like not this wild wood, with wounding thorns,\n And nought of food or drink, or restful ease.'\n 'Ah! Adam,' answered Gamelyn, 'in sooth\n Full many a good man's son feels bitter woe!\n Then cheer thee, Adam.'\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Then cheer thee, Adam\"]\n\nAs they spoke sadly together Gamelyn heard men's voices near by, and,\nlooking through the bushes, saw seven score young men, sitting round a\nplentiful feast, spread on the green grass. He rejoiced greatly,\nbidding Adam remember that \"Boot cometh after bale,\" and pointing out\nto him the abundance of provisions near at hand. Adam longed for a\ngood meal, for they had found little to eat since they came to the\ngreenwood. At that moment the master-outlaw saw them in the underwood,\nand bade his young men bring to him these new guests whom God had\nsent: perchance, he said, there were others besides these two. The\nseven bold youths who started up to do his will cried to the two\nnew-comers: \"Yield and hand us your bows and arrows!\" \"Much sorrow may\nhe have who yields to you,\" cried Gamelyn. \"Why, with five more ye\nwould be only twelve, and I could fight you all.\" When the outlaws\nsaw how boldly he bore himself they changed their tone, and said\nmildly: \"Come to our master, and tell him thy desire.\" \"Who is your\nmaster?\" quoth Gamelyn. \"He is the crowned king of the outlaws,\" quoth\nthey; and the two strangers were led away to the chief.\n\nThe master-outlaw, sitting on a rustic throne, with a crown of\noak-leaves on his head, asked them their business, and Gamelyn\nreplied: \"He must needs walk in the wood who may not walk in the town.\nWe are hungry and faint, and will only shoot the deer for food, for we\nare hard bestead and in great danger.\"\n\n\nGamelyn Joins the Outlaws\n\nThe outlaw leader had pity on their distress, and gave them food; and\nas they ate ravenously the outlaws whispered one to another: \"This is\nGamelyn!\" \"This is Gamelyn!\" Understanding all the evils that had\nbefallen him, their leader soon made Gamelyn his second in command;\nand when after three weeks the outlaw king was pardoned and allowed to\nreturn home, Gamelyn was chosen to succeed him and was crowned king of\nthe outlaws. So he dwelt merrily in the forest, and troubled not\nhimself about the world outside.\n\n\nThe Law at Work\n\nMeanwhile the treacherous Sir John had recovered, and in due course\nhad become sheriff, and indicted his brother for felony. As Gamelyn\ndid not appear to answer the indictment he was proclaimed an outlaw\nand wolf's-head, and a price was set upon his life. Now his bondmen\nand vassals were grieved at this, for they feared the cruelty of the\nwicked sheriff; they therefore sent messengers to Gamelyn to tell him\nthe ill news, and deprecate his wrath. The youth's anger rose at the\ntidings, and he promised to come and beard Sir John in his hall and\nprotect his own tenants.\n\n\nGamelyn Arrested\n\nIt was certainly a stroke of rash daring thus to venture into the\ncounty where his brother was sheriff, but he strode boldly into the\nmoot-hall, with his hood thrown back, so that all might recognise him,\nand cried aloud: \"God save all you lordings here present! But, thou\nbroken-backed sheriff, evil mayst thou thrive! Why hast thou done me\nsuch wrong and disgrace as to have me indicted and proclaimed an\noutlaw?\" Sir John did not hesitate to use his legal powers, but,\nseeing his brother was quite alone, had him arrested and cast into\nprison, whence it was his intention that only death should release\nhim.\n\n\nOtho as Surety\n\nAll these years the second brother, Otho, had lived quietly on his own\nlands and taken no heed of the quarrels of the two others; but now,\nwhen news came to him of Sir John's deadly hatred to their youngest\nbrother, and Gamelyn's desperate plight, he was deeply grieved, roused\nhimself from his peaceful life, and rode to see if he could help his\nbrother. First he besought Sir John's mercy for the prisoner, for the\nsake of brotherhood and family love; but he only replied that Gamelyn\nmust stay imprisoned till the justice should hold the next assize.\nThen Otho offered to be bail, if only his young brother might be\nreleased from his bonds and brought from the dismal dungeon where he\nlay. To this Sir John finally consented, warning Otho that if the\naccused failed to appear before the justice he himself must suffer the\npenalty for the breach of bail. \"I agree,\" said Otho. \"Have him\nreleased at once, and deliver him to me.\" Then Gamelyn was set free\non his brother's surety, and the two rode home to Otho's house,\ntalking sadly of all that had befallen, and how Gamelyn had become\nking of the outlaws. The next morning Gamelyn asked Otho's permission\nto go to the greenwood and see how his young men fared but Otho\npointed out so clearly how dreadful would be the consequences to him\nif he did not return that the young man vowed:\n\n \"'I swear by James, the mighty saint of Spain,\n That I will not desert thee, nor will fail\n To stand my trial on the appointed day,\n If God Almighty give me strength and health\n And power to keep my vow. I will be there,\n That I may show what bitter hate Sir John,\n My cruel brother, holds against me.'\"\n\n\nGamelyn Goes to the Woods\n\nThereupon Otho bade him go. \"God shield thee from shame! Come when\nthou seest it is the right time, and save us both from blame and\nreproach.\" So Gamelyn went gaily to the merry greenwood, and found his\ncompany of outlaws; and so much had they to tell of their work in his\nabsence, and so much had he to relate of his adventures, that time\nslipped by, and he soon fell again into his former mode of life, and\nhis custom of robbing none but Churchmen, fat abbots and priors, monks\nand canons, so that all others spoke good of him, and called him the\n\"courteous outlaw.\"\n\n\nThe Term Expires\n\nGamelyn stood one day looking out over the woods and fields, and it\nsuddenly came to his mind with a pang of self-reproach that he had\nforgotten his promise to Otho, and the day of the assize was very\nnear. He called his young men (for he had learned not to trust\nhimself to the honour or loyalty of his brother the sheriff), and\nbade them prepare to accompany him to the place of assize, sending\nAdam on as a scout to learn tidings. Adam returned in great haste,\nbringing sad news. The judge was in his place, a jury empanelled to\ncondemn Gamelyn to death, bribed thereto by the wicked sheriff, and\nOtho was fettered in the gaol in place of his brother. The news\nenraged Gamelyn, but Adam Spencer was even more infuriated; he would\ngladly have held the doors of the moot-hall and slain every person\ninside except Otho; but his master's sense of justice was too strong\nfor that. \"Adam,\" he said, \"we will not do so, but will slay the\nguilty and let the innocent escape. I myself will have some\nconversation with the justice in the hall; and meanwhile do ye, my\nmen, hold the doors fast. I will make myself justice to-day, and thou,\nAdam, shalt be my clerk. We will give sentence this day, and God speed\nour new work!\" All his men applauded this speech and promised him\nobedience, and the troop of outlaws hastened to surround the hall.\n\n\nGamelyn in the Court\n\nOnce again Gamelyn strode into the moot-hall in the midst of his\nenemies, and was recognised by all. He released Otho, who said gently:\n\"Brother, thou hast nearly overstayed the time; the sentence has been\ngiven against me that I shall be hanged.\"\n\n\"Brother,\" said Gamelyn, \"this day shall thy foes and mine be hanged:\nthe sheriff, the justice, and the wicked jurors.\" Then Gamelyn turned\nto the judge, who sat as if paralysed in his seat of judgment, and\nsaid:\n\n \"'Come from the seat of justice: all too oft\n Hast thou polluted law's clear stream with wrong;\n Too oft hast taken reward against the poor;\n Too oft hast lent thine aid to villainy,\n And given judgment 'gainst the innocent.\n Come down and meet thine own meed at the bar,\n While I, in thy place, give more rightful doom\n And see that justice dwells in law for once.'\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Come from the seat of justice\"]\n\n\nA Scene\n\nThe justice sat still, dumb with astonishment, and Gamelyn struck him\nfiercely, cut his cheek, and threw him over the bar so that his arm\nbroke; and no man durst withstand the outlaw, for fear of his company\nstanding at the doors. The youth sat down in the judge's seat, with\nOtho beside him, and Adam in the clerk's desk; and he placed in the\ndock the false sheriff, the justice, and the unjust jurors, and\naccused them of wrong and attempted murder. In order to keep up the\nforms of law, he empanelled a jury of his own young men, who brought\nin a verdict of \"Guilty,\" and the prisoners were all condemned to\ndeath and hanged out of hand, though the false sheriff attempted to\nappeal to the brotherly affection of which he had shown so little.\n\n\nHonour from the King\n\nAfter this high-handed punishment of their enemies Gamelyn and his\nbrother went to lay their case before King Edward, and he forgave\nthem, in consideration of all the wrongs and injuries Gamelyn had\nsuffered; and before they returned to their distant county the king\nmade Otho sheriff of the county, and Gamelyn chief forester of all his\nfree forests; his band of outlaws were all pardoned, and the king gave\nthem posts according to their capabilities. Now Gamelyn and his\nbrother settled down to a happy, peaceful life. Otho, having no son,\nmade Gamelyn his heir, and the latter married a beauteous lady, and\nlived with her in joy till his life's end.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI: WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLEE\n\n\nIntroduction\n\nThe outlaw of mediaeval England has always possessed a potent charm for\nthe minds of less rebellious persons. No doubt now the attraction has\nsomewhat waned, for in the exploration of distant lands and the study\nof barbaric tribes men can find that breadth of outlook, that escape\nfrom narrow conventionalities, which they could formerly gain only by\nthe cult of the \"noble outlaw.\" The romance of life for many a worthy\ncitizen must have been found in secret sympathy with Robin Hood and\nhis merry band of banished men, robbing the purse-proud to help the\nneedy and gaily defying law and authority.\n\nTo the poor, however, the outlaw was something more than an easy\nentrance to the realms of romance; he was a real embodiment of the\nspirit of liberty. Of all the unjust laws which the Norman conquerors\nlaid upon England, perhaps the most bitterly resented were the forest\nlaws, and resistance to them was the most popular form of national\nindependence. Hence it follows that we find outlaw heroes popular very\nearly in our history--heroes who stand in the mind of the populace for\njustice and true liberty against the oppressive tyranny of subordinate\nofficials, and who are always taken into favour by the king, the fount\nof true justice.\n\n\nFamous Outlaws\n\nThere is some slight tinge of the \"outlaw hero\" in Hereward, but the\noutlaw period of that patriot's life is but an episode in his defence\nof England against William the Norman. There is a fully developed\noutlaw hero, the ideal of the type, in Robin Hood, but he has been\nsomewhat idealized and ennobled by being transformed into a banished\nEarl of Huntingdon. Less known, but equally heroic, is William of\nCloudeslee, the William Tell of England, whose fame is that of a good\nyeoman, a good archer, and a good patriot.\n\n\nThe Outlaws\n\nIn the green forest of Englewood, in the \"North Countree,\" not far\nfrom the fortified town of Carlisle, dwelt a merry band of outlaws.\nThey were not evildoers, but sturdy archers and yeomen, whose outlawry\nhad been incurred only for shooting the king's deer. Indeed, to most\nmen of that time--that is, to most men who were not in the royal\nservice--the shooting of deer, and the pursuit of game in general,\nwere not only venial offences, but the most natural thing in life. The\nroyal claim to exclusive hunting in the vast forests of Epping,\nSherwood, Needwood, Barnesdale, Englewood, and many others seemed\npreposterous to the yeomen who lived on the borders of the forests,\nand they took their risks and shot the deer and made venison pasty,\nconvinced that they were wronging no one and risking only their own\nlives. They had the help and sympathy of many a man who was himself a\nlaw-abiding citizen, as well as the less understanding help of the\ntown mob and the labourers in the country.\n\n\nThe Leaders\n\nWhile the outlaws of merry Sherwood recognised no chief but Robin Hood\nand no foe but the Sheriff of Nottingham, the outlaws of Englewood\nwere under the headship of three famous archers, brothers-in-arms\nsworn to stand by each other, but not brothers in blood. Their names\nwere Adam Bell, William of Cloudeslee, and Clym of the Cleugh; and of\nthe three William of Cloudeslee alone was married. His wife, fair\nAlice of Cloudeslee, dwelt in a strong house within the walls of\nCarlisle, with her three children, for they were not included in\nWilliam's outlawry. It was possible thus for her to send her husband\nwarning of any attack planned by the Sheriff of Carlisle on the\noutlaws, and she had saved him and his comrades from surprise already.\n\n\nWilliam Goes to Carlisle\n\nWhen the blithe spring had come, and the forest was beautiful with its\nfresh green leaves, William began to long for his home and family; he\nhad not ventured into Carlisle for some time, and it was more than six\nmonths since he had seen his wife's face. Little wonder was it, then,\nthat he announced his intention of visiting his home, at the risk of\ncapture by his old enemy the Sheriff. In vain his comrades dissuaded\nhim from the venture. Adam Bell was especially urgent in his advice\nthat William should remain in the greenwood.\n\n\"You shall not go to Carlisle, brother, by my advice, nor with my\nconsent. If the sheriff or the justice should know that you are in the\ntown short would be your shrift and soon your span of life would end.\nStay with us, and we will fetch you tidings of your wife.\"\n\nWilliam replied: \"Nay, I must go myself; I cannot rest content with\ntidings only. If all is well I will return by prime to-morrow, and if\nI fail you at that hour you may be sure I am taken or slain; and I\npray you guard well my family, if that be so.\"\n\nTaking leave of his brother outlaws, William made his way unobserved\ninto the town and came to his wife's dwelling. It was closely shut,\nwith doors strongly bolted, and he was forced to knock long on the\nwindow before his wife opened the shutter to see who was the\nimportunate visitor.\n\n\"Let me in quickly, my own Alice,\" he said. \"I have come to see you\nand my three children. How have you fared this long time?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" she replied, hurriedly admitting him, and bolting the door\nagain, \"why have you come now, risking your dear life to gain news of\nus? Know you not that this house has been watched for more than six\nmonths, so eager are the sheriff and the justice to capture and hang\nyou? I would have come to you in the forest, or sent you word of our\nwelfare. I fear--oh, how I fear!--lest your coming be known!\"\n\n\nThe Old Woman's Treachery\n\n\"Now that I am here, let us make merry,\" quoth William. \"No man has\nseen me enter, and I would fain enjoy my short stay with you and my\nchildren, for I must be back in the forest by prime to-morrow. Can you\nnot give a hungry outlaw food and drink?\"\n\nThen Dame Alice bustled about and prepared the best she had for her\nhusband; and when all was ready a very happy little family sat down to\nthe meal, husband and wife talking cheerily together, while the\nchildren watched in wondering silence the father who had been away so\nlong and came to them so seldom.\n\nThere was one inmate of the house who saw in William's return a means\nof making shameful profit. She was an old bedridden woman, apparently\nparalysed, whom he had rescued from utter poverty seven years before.\nDuring all that time she had lain on a bed near the fire, had shared\nall the life of the family, and had never once moved from her couch.\nNow, while husband and wife talked together and the darkness deepened\nin the room, this old impostor slipped from her bed and glided\nstealthily out of the house.\n\n\nNews Brought to the Sheriff\n\nIt happened that the king's assize was being held just then in\nCarlisle, and the sheriff and his staunch ally the justice were\nsitting together in the Justice Hall. Thither this treacherous old\nwoman hurried with all speed and pushed into the hall, forcing her way\nthrough the crowd till she came near the sheriff. \"Ha! what would you,\ngood woman?\" asked he, surprised. \"Sir, I bring tidings of great\nvalue.\" \"Tell your tidings, and I shall see if they be of value or no.\nIf they are I will reward you handsomely.\" \"Sir, this night William of\nCloudeslee has come into Carlisle, and is even now in his wife's\nhouse. He is all alone, and you can take him easily. Now what will you\npay me, for I am sure this news is much to you?\" \"You say truth, good\nwoman. That bold outlaw is the worst of all who kill the king's deer\nin his forest of Englewood, and if I could but catch him I should be\nwell content. Dame, you shall not go without a recompense for your\njourney here and for your loyalty.\" The sheriff then bade his men give\nthe old woman a piece of scarlet cloth, dyed in grain, enough for a\ngown, and the treacherous hag hid the gift under her cloak, hastened\naway to Alice's house, and slipped unperceived into her place again,\nhiding the scarlet cloth under the bed-coverings.\n\n\nThe Hue and Cry\n\nImmediately he had heard of Cloudeslee's presence in Carlisle the\nsheriff sent out the hue and cry, and with all speed raised the whole\ntown, for though none hated the outlaws men dared not refuse to obey\nthe king's officer. The justice, too, joined the sheriff in the\ncongenial task of capturing an outlaw whose condemnation was already\npronounced. With all the forces at their disposal, sheriff and justice\ntook their way towards the house where William and Alice unconscious\nof the danger besetting them, still talked lovingly together.\n\nSuddenly the outlaw's ears, sharpened by woodcraft and by constant\ndanger, heard a growing noise coming nearer and nearer. He knew the\nsound of the footsteps of many people, and among the casual shuffling\nof feet recognised the ominous tramp of soldiers.\n\n\"Wife, we are betrayed,\" cried William. \"Hither comes the sheriff to\ntake me.\"\n\n\nThe Siege of the House\n\nAlice ran quickly up to her bedchamber and opened a window looking to\nthe back, and saw, to her despair, that soldiers beset the house on\nevery side and filled all the neighbouring streets. Behind them\npressed a great throng of citizens, who seemed inclined to leave the\ncapture of the outlaw to the guard. At the same moment William from\nthe front called to his wife that the sheriff and justice were\nbesieging the house on that side.\n\n\"Alas! dear husband, what shall we do?\" cried Alice. \"Accursed be all\ntreason! But who can have betrayed you to your foes? Go into my\nbedchamber, dear William, and defend yourself there, for it is the\nstrongest room in the house. The children and I will go with you, and\nI will guard the door while you defend the windows.\"\n\nThe plan was speedily carried out, and while William took his stand by\nthe window Alice seized a pole-axe and stationed herself by the door.\n\"No man shall enter this door alive while I live,\" said she.\n\n\nThe Attack\n\nFrom the window Cloudeslee could perceive his mortal enemies the\njustice and the sheriff; and drawing his good longbow, he shot with\ndeadly aim fair at the breast of the justice. It was well for the\nlatter then that he wore a suit of good chain-mail under his robes;\nthe arrow hit his breast and split in three on the mail.\n\n\"Beshrew the man that clad you with that mail coat! You would have\nbeen a dead man now if your coat had been no thicker than mine,\" said\nWilliam.\n\n\"Yield yourself, Cloudeslee, and lay down your bow and arrows,\" said\nthe justice. \"You cannot escape, for we have you safe.\"\n\n\"Never shall my husband yield; it is evil counsel you give,\" exclaimed\nthe brave wife from her post at the door.\n\n\nThe House is Burnt\n\nThe sheriff, who grew more angered as the hours passed on and\nCloudeslee was not taken, now cried aloud: \"Why do we waste time\ntrifling here? The man is an outlaw and his life is forfeit. Let us\nburn him and his house, and if his wife and children will not leave\nhim they shall all burn together, for it is their own choice.\"\n\nThis cruel plan was soon carried out. Fire was set to the door and\nwooden shutters, and the flames spread swiftly; the smoke rolled up in\nthick clouds into the lofty bedchamber, where the little children,\ncrouching on the ground, began to weep for fear.\n\n\"Alas! must we all die?\" cried fair Alice, grieving for her children.\n\nWilliam opened the window and looked out, but there was no chance of\nescape; his foes filled every street and lane around the house.\n\"Surely they will spare my wife and babes,\" he thought; and, tearing\nthe sheets from the bed, he made a rope, with which he let down to the\nground his children, and last of all his weeping wife.\n\nHe called aloud to the sheriff: \"Sir Sheriff, here have I trusted to\nyou my chief treasures. For God's sake do them no harm, but wreak all\nyour wrath on me!\"\n\nGentle hands received Alice and her babes, and friendly citizens led\nthem from the press; but Alice went reluctantly, in utter grief,\nknowing that her husband must be burnt with his house or taken by his\nfoes; but for her children she would have stayed with him. William\ncontinued his wonderful archery, never missing his aim, till all his\narrows were spent, and the flames came so close that his bowstring was\nburnt in two. Great blazing brands came falling upon him from the\nburning roof, and the floor was hot beneath his feet. \"An evil death\nis this!\" thought he. \"Better it were that I should take sword and\nbuckler and leap down amid my foes and so die, striking good blows in\nthe throng of enemies, than stay here and let them see me burn.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"William continued his wonderful archery\"]\n\nThereupon he leaped lightly down, and fought so fiercely that he\nnearly escaped through the throng, for the worthy citizens of Carlisle\nwere not anxious to capture him; but the soldiers, urged by the\nsheriff and justice, threw doors and windows upon him, hampered his\nblows, and seized and bound him, and cast him into a deep dungeon.\n\n\nThe Sheriff Gives Sentence\n\n\"Now, William of Cloudeslee,\" quoth the sheriff, \"you shall be hanged\nwith speed, as soon as I can have a new gallows made. So noted an\noutlaw merits no common gibbet; a new one is most fitting.\nTo-morrow at prime you shall die. There is no hope of rescue, for the\ngates of the town shall be shut. Your dear friends, Adam Bell and Clym\nof the Cleugh, would be helpless to save you, though they brought a\nthousand more like themselves, or even all the devils in Hell.\"\n\nEarly next morning the justice arose, went to the soldiers who guarded\nthe gates, and forbade them to open till the execution was over; then\nhe went to the market-place and superintended the erection of a\nspecially lofty gallows, beside the pillory.\n\n\nNews is Brought to the Greenwood\n\nAmong the crowd who watched the gallows being raised was a little lad,\nthe town swineherd, who asked a bystander the meaning of the new\ngibbet.\n\n\"It is put up to hang a good yeoman, William of Cloudeslee, more's the\npity! He has done no wrong but kill the King's deer, and that merits\nnot hanging. It is a foul shame that such injustice can be wrought in\nthe king's name.\"\n\nThe little lad had often met William of Cloudeslee in the forest, and\nhad carried him messages from his wife; William had given the boy many\na dinner of venison, and now he determined to help his friend if he\ncould. The gates were shut and no man could pass out, but the boy\nstole along the wall till he found a crevice, by which he clambered\ndown outside. Then he hastened to the forest of Englewood, and met\nAdam Bell and Clym of the Cleugh.\n\n\"Come quickly, good yeomen; ye tarry here too long. While you are at\nease in the greenwood your friend, William of Cloudeslee, is taken,\ncondemned to death, and ready to be hanged. He needs your help this\nvery hour.\"\n\nAdam Bell groaned. \"Ah! if he had but taken our advice he would have\nbeen here in safety with us now. In the greenwood there is no sorrow\nor care, but when William went to the town he was running into\ntrouble.\" Then, bending his bow, he shot with unerring aim a hart,\nwhich he gave to the lad as recompense for his labour and goodwill.\n\n\nThe Outlaws Go to Carlisle\n\n\"Come,\" said Clym to Adam Bell, \"let us tarry no longer, but take our\nbows and arrows and see what we can do. By God's grace we will rescue\nour brother, though we may abide it full dearly ourselves. We will go\nto Carlisle without delay.\"\n\nThe morning was fair as the two yeomen strode from the deep green\nshades of Englewood Forest along the hard white road leading to\nCarlisle Town. They were in time as yet, but when they drew near the\nwall they were amazed to see that no entrance or exit was possible;\nthe gates were shut fast.\n\nStepping back into the green thickets beside the road, the two outlaws\nconsulted together. Adam Bell was for a valiant attempt to storm the\ngate, but Clym suddenly bethought him of a wiser plan.\n\n\nClym's Stratagem\n\nSaid he: \"Let us pretend to be messengers from the king, with urgent\nletters to the justice. Surely that should win us admission. But alas!\nI forgot. How can we bear out our pretence, for I am no learned clerk.\nI cannot write.\"\n\nQuoth Adam Bell: \"I can write a good clerkly hand. Wait one instant\nand I will speedily have a letter written; then we can say we have the\nking's seal. The plan will do well enough, for I hold the gate-keeper\nno learned clerk, and this will deceive him.\"\n\n[Illustration: Adam Bell writes the letter]\n\nIndeed, the letter which he quickly wrote and folded and sealed was\nvery well and clearly written, and addressed to the Justice of\nCarlisle. Then the two bold outlaws hastened up the road and thundered\non the town gates.\n\n\nThey Enter the Town\n\nSo long and loud they knocked that the warder came in great wrath,\ndemanding who dared to make such clamour.\n\nAdam Bell replied: \"We are two messengers come straight from our lord\nthe king.\" Clym of the Cleugh added: \"We have a letter for the justice\nwhich we must deliver into his own hands. Let us in speedily to\nperform our errand, for we must return to the king in haste.\"\n\n\"No,\" the warder replied, \"that I cannot do. No man may enter these\ngates till a false thief and outlaw be safely hanged. He is William of\nCloudeslee, who has long deserved death.\"\n\nNow Clym saw that matters were becoming desperate, and time was\npassing too quickly, so he adopted a more violent tone. \"Ah, rascal,\nscoundrel, madman!\" quoth he. \"If we be delayed here any longer thou\nshalt be hanged for a false thief! To keep the king's messengers\nwaiting thus! Canst thou not see the king's seal? Canst thou not read\nthe address of the royal letter? Ah, blockhead, thou shalt dearly\nabide this delay when my lord knows thereof.\"\n\nThus speaking, he flourished the forged letter, with its false seal,\nin the porter's face; and the man, seeing the seal and the writing,\nbelieved what was told him. Reverently he took off his hood and bent\nthe knee to the king's messengers, for whom he opened wide the gates,\nand they entered, walking warily.\n\n\nThey Keep the Gates\n\n\"At last we are within Carlisle walls, and glad thereof are we,\" said\nAdam Bell, \"but when and how we shall go out again Christ only knows,\nwho harrowed Hell and brought out its prisoners.\"\n\n\"Now if we had the keys ourselves we should have a good chance of\nlife,\" said Clym, \"for then we could go in and out at our own will.\"\n\"Let us call the warder,\" said Adam. When he came running at their\ncall both the yeomen sprang upon him, flung him to the ground, bound\nhim hand and foot, and cast him into a dark cell, taking his bunch of\nkeys from his girdle. Adam laughed and shook the heavy keys. \"Now I am\ngate-ward of merry Carlisle. See, here are my keys. I think I shall be\nthe worst warder they have had for three hundred years. Let us bend\nour bows and hold our arrows ready, and walk into the town to deliver\nour brother.\"\n\n\nThe Fight in the Market-place\n\nWhen they came to the market-place they found a dense crowd of\nsympathizers watching pityingly the hangman's cart, in which lay\nWilliam of Cloudeslee, bound hand and foot, with a rope round his\nneck. The sheriff and the justice stood near the gallows, and\nCloudeslee would have been hanged already, but that the sheriff was\nhiring a man to measure the outlaw for his grave. \"You shall have the\ndead man's clothes, good fellow, if you make his grave,\" said he.\n\nCloudeslee's courage was still undaunted. \"I have seen as great a\nmarvel ere now,\" quoth he, \"as that a man who digs a grave for another\nmay lie in it himself, in as short a time as from now to prime.\"\n\n\"You speak proudly, my fine fellow, but hanged you shall be, if I do\nit with my own hand,\" retorted the sheriff furiously.\n\nNow the cart moved a little nearer to the scaffold, and William was\nraised up to be ready for execution. As he looked round the dense mass\nof faces his keen sight soon made him aware of his friends. Adam Bell\nand Clym of the Cleugh stood at one corner of the market-place with\narrow on string, and their deadly aim bent at the sheriff and justice,\nwhose horses raised them high above the murmuring throng. Cloudeslee\nshowed no surprise, but said aloud: \"Lo! I see comfort, and hope to\nfare well in my journey. Yet if I might have my hands free I would\ncare little what else befell me.\"\n\n\nThe Rescue\n\nNow Adam said quietly to Clym: \"Brother, do you take the justice, and\nI will shoot the sheriff. Let us both loose at once and leave them\ndying. It is an easy shot, though a long one.\"\n\nThus, while the sheriff yet waited for William to be measured for his\ngrave, suddenly men heard the twang of bowstrings and the whistling\nflight of arrows through the air, and at the same moment both sheriff\nand justice fell writhing from their steeds, with the grey goose\nfeathers standing in their breasts. All the bystanders fled from the\ndangerous neighbourhood, and left the gallows, the fatal cart, and the\nmortally wounded officials alone. The two bold outlaws rushed to\nrelease their comrade, cut his bonds, and lifted him to his feet.\nWilliam seized an axe from a soldier and pursued the fleeing guard,\nwhile his two friends with their deadly arrows slew a man at each\nshot.\n\n\nThe Mayor of Carlisle\n\nWhen the arrows were all used Adam Bell and Clym of the Cleugh threw\naway their bows and took to sword and buckler. The fight continued\ntill midday for in the narrow streets the three comrades protected\neach other, and drew gradually towards the gate. Adam Bell still\ncarried the keys at his girdle, and they could pass out easily if they\ncould but once reach the gateway. By this time the whole town was in a\ncommotion; again the hue and cry had been raised against the outlaws,\nand the Mayor of Carlisle came in person with a mighty troop of armed\ncitizens, angered now at the fighting in the streets of the town.\n\nThe three yeomen retreated as steadily as they could towards the gate,\nbut the mayor followed valiantly armed with a pole-axe, with which he\nclove Cloudeslee's shield in two. He soon perceived the object of the\noutlaws, and bade his men guard the gates well, so that the three\nshould not escape.\n\n\nThe Escape from Carlisle\n\nTerrible was the din in the town now, for trumpets blew, church-bells\nwere rung backward, women bewailed their dead in the streets, and over\nall resounded the clash of arms, as the fighting drew nigh the gate.\nWhen the gatehouse came in sight the outlaws were fighting\ndesperately, with diminishing strength, but the thought of safety\noutside the walls gave them force to make one last stand. With backs\nto the gate and faces to the foe, Adam and Clym and William made a\nvaliant onslaught on the townsfolk, who fled in terror, leaving a\nbreathing-space in which Adam Bell turned the key, flung open the\ngreat ponderous gate, and flung it to again, when the three had passed\nthrough.\n\n[Illustration: The fight at the gate]\n\n\nAdam and the Keys\n\nAs Adam locked the door they could hear inside the town the\nhurrying footsteps of the rallying citizens, whose furious attack on\nthe great iron-studded door came too late. The door was locked, and\nthe three friends stood in safety outside, with their pleasant forest\nhome within easy reach. The change of feeling was so intense that Adam\nBell, always the man to seize the humorous point of a situation,\nlaughed lightly. He called through the barred wicket:\n\n\"Here are your keys. I resign my office as warder--one half-day's work\nis enough for me; and as I have resigned, and the former gate-ward is\nsomewhat damaged and has disappeared, I advise you to find a new one.\nTake your keys, and much good may you get from them. Next time I\nadvise you not to stop an honest yeoman from coming to see his own\nwife and have a chat with her.\"\n\nThereupon he flung the keys over the gate on the heads of the crowd,\nand the three brethren slipped away into the forest to their own\nhaunts, where they found fresh bows and arrows in such abundance that\nthey longed to be back in fair Carlisle with their foes before them.\n\n\nWilliam of Cloudeslee and his Wife Meet\n\nWhile they were yet discussing all the details of the rescue they\nheard a woman's pitiful lament and the crying of little children.\n\"Hark!\" said Cloudeslee, and they all heard in the silence the words\nshe said. It was William's wife, and she cried: \"Alas! why did I not\ndie before this day? Woe is me that my dear husband is slain! He is\ndead, and I have no friend to lament with me. If only I could see his\ncomrades and tell what has befallen him my heart would be eased of\nsome of its pain.\"\n\nWilliam, as he listened, was deeply touched, and walked gently to\nfair Alice, as she hid her face in her hands and wept. \"Welcome, wife,\nto the greenwood!\" quoth he. \"By heaven, I never thought to see you\nagain when I lay in bonds last night.\" Dame Alice sprang up most\njoyously. \"Oh, all is well with me now you are here; I have no care or\nwoe.\" \"For that you must thank my dear brethren, Adam and Clym,\" said\nhe; and Alice began to load them with her thanks, but Adam cut short\nthe expression of her gratitude. \"No need to talk about a little\nmatter like that,\" he said gruffly. \"If we want any supper we had\nbetter kill something, for the meat we must eat is yet running wild.\"\n\nWith three such good archers game was easily shot and a merry meal was\nquickly prepared in the greenwood, and all joyfully partook of venison\nand other dainties. Throughout the repast William devotedly waited on\nhis wife with deepest love and reverence, for he could not forget how\nshe had defended him and risked her life to stand by him.\n\n\nWilliam's Proposed Visit to London\n\nWhen the meal was over, and they reclined on the green turf round the\nfire, William began thoughtfully:\n\n\"It is in my mind that we ought speedily to go to London and try to\nwin our pardon from the king. Unless we approach him before news can\nbe brought from Carlisle he will assuredly slay us. Let us go at once,\nleaving my dear wife and my two youngest sons in a convent here; but I\nwould fain take my eldest boy with me. If all goes well he can bring\ngood news to Alice in her nunnery, and if all goes ill he shall bring\nher my last wishes. But I am sure I am not meant to die by the law.\"\nHis brethren approved the plan, and they took fair Alice and her two\nyoungest children to the nunnery, and then the three famous archers\nwith the little boy of seven set out at their best speed for London,\nwatching the passers-by carefully, that no news of the doings in\nCarlisle should precede them to the king.\n\n\nOutlaws in the Royal Palace\n\nThe three yeomen, on arriving in London, made their way at once to the\nking's palace, and walked boldly into the hall, regardless of the\nastonished and indignant shouts of the royal porter. He followed them\nangrily into the hall, and began reproaching them and trying to induce\nthem to withdraw, but to no purpose. Finally an usher came and said:\n\"Yeomen, what is your wish? Pray tell me, and I will help you if I\ncan; but if you enter the king's presence thus unmannerly you will\ncause us to be blamed. Tell me now whence you come.\"\n\nWilliam fearlessly answered: \"Sir, we will tell the truth without\ndeceit. We are outlaws from the king's forests, outlawed for killing\nthe king's deer, and we come to beg for pardon and a charter of peace,\nto show to the sheriff of our county.\"\n\n\nThe King and the Outlaws\n\nThe usher went to an inner room and begged to know the king's will,\nwhether he would see these outlaws or not. The king was interested in\nthese bold yeomen, who dared to avow themselves law-breakers, and bade\nmen bring them to audience with him. The three comrades, with the\nlittle boy, on being introduced into the royal presence, knelt down\nand held up their hands, beseeching pardon for their offences.\n\n\"Sire, we beseech your pardon for our breach of your laws. We are\nforest outlaws, who have slain your fallow deer in many parts of your\nroyal forests.\" \"Your names? Tell me at once,\" said the king. \"Adam\nBell, Clym of the Cleugh, and William of Cloudeslee,\" they replied.\n\nThe king was very wrathful. \"Are you those bold robbers of whom men\nhave told me? Do you now dare to come to me for pardon? On mine honour\nI vow that you shall all three be hanged without mercy, as I am\ncrowned king of this realm of England. Arrest them and lay them in\nbonds.\" There was no resistance possible, and the yeomen submitted\nruefully to their arrest. Adam Bell was the first to speak. \"As I hope\nto thrive, this game pleases me not at all,\" he said. \"Sire, of your\nmercy, we beg you to remember that we came to you of our own free\nwill, and to let us pass away again as freely. Give us back our\nweapons and let us have free passage till we have left your palace; we\nask no more; we shall never ask another favour, however long we live.\"\n\nThe king was obdurate, however; he only replied: \"You speak proudly\nstill, but you shall all three be hanged.\"\n\n\nThe Queen Intercedes\n\nThe queen, who was sitting beside her husband, now spoke for the first\ntime. \"Sire, it were a pity that such good yeomen should die, if they\nmight in any wise be pardoned.\" \"There is no pardon,\" said the king.\nShe then replied: \"My lord, when I first left my native land and came\ninto this country as your bride you promised to grant me at once the\nfirst boon I asked. I have never needed to ask one until to-day, but\nnow, sire, I claim one, and I beg you to grant it.\" \"With all my\nheart; ask your boon, and it shall be yours willingly.\" \"Then, I pray\nyou, grant me the lives of these good yeomen.\" \"Madam, you might have\nhad half my kingdom, and you ask a worthless trifle.\" \"Sire, it seems\nnot worthless to me; I beg you to keep your promise.\" \"Madam, it vexes\nme that you have asked so little; yet since you will have these three\noutlaws, take them.\" The queen rejoiced greatly. \"Many thanks, my lord\nand husband. I will be surety for them that they shall be true men\nhenceforth. But, good my lord, give them a word of comfort, that they\nmay not be wholly dismayed by your anger.\"\n\n\nNews Comes to the King\n\nThe king smiled at his wife. \"Ah, madam! you will have your own way,\nas all women will. Go, fellows, wash yourselves, and find places at\nthe tables, where you shall dine well enough, even if it be not on\nvenison pasty from the king's own forests.\"\n\nThe outlaws did reverence to the king and queen, and found seats with\nthe king's guard at the lower tables in the hall. They were still\nsatisfying their appetites when a messenger came in haste to the king;\nand the three North Countrymen looked at one another uneasily, for\nthey knew the man was from Carlisle. The messenger knelt before the\nking and presented his letters. \"Sire, your officers greet you well.\"\n\n\"How fare they? How does my valiant sheriff? And the prudent justice?\nAre they well?\"\n\n\"Alas! my lord, they have been slain, and many another good officer\nwith them.\"\n\n\"Who hath done this?\" questioned the king angrily.\n\n\"My lord, three bold outlaws, Adam Bell, Clym of the Cleugh, and\nWilliam of Cloudeslee.\"\n\n\"What! these three whom I have just pardoned? Ah, sorely I repent that\nI forgave them! I would give a thousand pounds if I could have them\nhanged all three; but I cannot.\"\n\n\nThe King's Test\n\nAs the king read the letters his anger and surprise increased. It\nseemed impossible that three men should overawe a whole town, should\nslay sheriff, justice, mayor, and nearly every official in the town,\nforge a royal letter with the king's seal, and then lock the gates and\nescape safely. There was no doubt of the fact, and the king raged\nimpotently against his own foolish mercy in giving them a free pardon.\nIt had been granted, however, and he could do nought but grieve over\nthe ruin they had wrought in Carlisle. At last he sprang up, for he\ncould endure the banquet no longer.\n\n\"Call my archers to go to the butts,\" he commanded. \"I will see these\nbold outlaws shoot, and try if their archery is so fine as men say.\"\n\nAccordingly the king's archers and the queen's archers arrayed\nthemselves, and the three yeomen took their bows and looked well to\ntheir silken bowstrings; and then all made their way to the butts\nwhere the targets were set up. The archers shot in turn, aiming at an\nordinary target, but Cloudeslee soon grew weary of this childish\nsport, and said aloud: \"I shall never call a man a good archer who\nshoots at a target as large as a buckler. We have another sort of butt\nin my country, and that is worth shooting at.\"\n\n\nWilliam of Cloudeslee's Archery\n\n\"Make ready your own butts,\" the king commanded, and the three outlaws\nwent to a bush in a field close by and returned bearing hazel-rods,\npeeled and shining white. These rods they set up at four hundred\nyards apart, and, standing by one, they said to the king: \"We should\naccount a man a fair archer if he could split one wand while standing\nbeside the other.\" \"It cannot be done; the feat is too great,\"\nexclaimed the king. \"Sire, I can easily do it,\" quoth Cloudeslee, and,\ntaking aim very carefully, he shot, and the arrow split the wand in\ntwo. \"In truth,\" said the king, \"you are the best archer I have ever\nseen. Can you do greater wonders?\" \"Yes,\" quoth Cloudeslee, \"one thing\nmore I can do, but it is a more difficult feat. Nevertheless I will\ntry it, to show you our North Country shooting.\" \"Try, then,\" the king\nreplied; \"but if you fail you shall be hanged without mercy, because\nof your boasting.\"\n\n\nCloudeslee Shoots the Apple from his Son's Head\n\nNow Cloudeslee stood for a few moments as if doubtful of himself, and\nthe South Country archers watched him, hoping for a chance to retrieve\ntheir defeat, when William suddenly said: \"I have a son, a dear son,\nseven years of age. I will tie him to a stake and place an apple on\nhis head. Then from a distance of a hundred and twenty yards I will\nsplit the apple in two with a broad arrow.\" \"By heaven!\" the king\ncried, \"that is a dreadful feat. Do as you have said, or by Him who\ndied on the Cross I will hang you high. Do as you have said, but if\nyou touch one hair of his head, or the edge of his gown, I will hang\nyou and your two companions.\" \"I have never broken my pledged word,\"\nsaid the North Country bowman, and he at once made ready for the\nterrible trial. The stake was set in the ground, the boy tied to it,\nwith his face turned from his father, lest he should give a start and\ndestroy his aim. Cloudeslee then paced the hundred and twenty yards,\nanxiously felt his string, bent his bow, chose his broadest arrow, and\nfitted it with care.\n\n[Illustration: William of Cloudeslee and his son]\n\n\nThe Last Shot\n\nIt was an anxious moment. The throng of spectators felt sick with\nexpectation, and many women wept and prayed for the father and his\ninnocent son. But Cloudeslee showed no fear. He addressed the crowd\ngravely: \"Good folk, stand all as still as may be. For such a shot a\nman needs a steady hand, and your movements may destroy my aim and\nmake me slay my son. Pray for me.\"\n\nThen, in an unbroken silence of breathless suspense, the bold marksman\nshot, and the apple fell to the ground, cleft into two absolutely\nequal halves. A cheer from every spectator burst forth deafeningly,\nand did not die down till the king beckoned for silence.\n\n\nThe King and Queen Show Favour\n\n\"God forbid that I should ever be your target,\" quoth he. \"You shall\nbe my chief forester in the North Country, with daily wage, and daily\nright of killing venison; your two brethren shall become yeomen of my\nguard, and I will advance the fortunes of your family in every way.\"\n\nThe queen smiled graciously upon William, and she bestowed a pension\nupon him, and bade him bring his wife, fair Alice, to court, to take\nup the post of chief woman of the bedchamber to the royal children.\n\nOverwhelmed with these favours, the three yeomen became conscious of\ntheir own offences, more than they had told to the royal pair; their\nawakened consciences sent them to a holy bishop, who heard their\nconfessions, gave them penance and bade them live well for the\nfuture, and then absolved them. When they had returned to Englewood\nForest and had broken up the outlaw band they came back to the royal\ncourt, and spent the rest of their lives in great favour with the king\nand queen.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII: BLACK COLIN OF LOCH AWE\n\n\nIntroduction\n\nIn considering the hero-myths of Scotland we are at once confronted\nwith two difficulties. The first, and perhaps the greater, is this,\nthat the only national heroes of Lowland Scotland are actual\nhistorical persons, with very little of the mythical character about\nthem. The mention of Scottish heroes at once suggests Sir William\nWallace, Robert Bruce, the Black Douglas, Sir Andrew Barton, and many\nmore, whose exploits are matter of serious chronicle and sober record\nrather than subject of tradition and myth. These warriors are too much\nin reach of the fierce white searchlight of historic inquiry to be\ninvested with mythical interest or to show any developments of ancient\nlegend.\n\nThe second difficulty is of a different nature, and yet almost equally\nperplexing. In the old ballads and poems of the Gaelic Highlands there\nare mythical heroes in abundance, such as Fingal and Ossian, Comala,\nand a host of shadowy chieftains and warriors, but they are not\ndistinctively Scotch. They are only Highland Gaelic versions of the\nIrish Gaelic hero-legends, Scotch embodiments of Finn and Oisin, whose\nreal home was in Ireland, and whose legends were carried to the\nWestern Isles and the Highlands by conquering tribes of Scots from\nErin. These heroes are at bottom Irish, the champions of the Fenians\nand of the Red Branch, and in the Scotch legends they have lost much\nof their original beauty and chivalry.\n\n\nThe Highland Clans\n\nIt is rather in the private history of the country, as it were, than\nin its national records that we are likely to find a hero who will\nhave something of the mythical in his story, something of the romance\nof the Middle Ages. The wars and jealousies of the clans, the\nadventures of a chief among hostile tribesmen, the raids and forays,\nthe loves and hatreds of rival families, form a good background for a\nromantic legend; and such a legend occurs in the story of Black Colin\nof Loch Awe, a warrior of the great Campbell clan in the fourteenth\ncentury. The tale is common in one form or another to all European\nlands where the call of the Crusades was heard, and the romantic\nCrusading element has to a certain extent softened the occasionally\nferocious nature of Highland stories in general, so that there is no\nbloodthirsty vengeance, no long blood-feud, to be recorded of Black\nColin Campbell.\n\n\nThe Knight of Loch Awe\n\nDuring the wars between England and Scotland in the reigns of Edward\nI. and Edward II. one of the chief leaders in the cause of Scottish\nindependence was Sir Nigel Campbell. The Knight of Loch Awe, as he was\ngenerally called, was a schoolfellow and comrade of Sir William\nWallace, and a loyal and devoted adherent of Robert Bruce. In return\nfor his services in the war of independence Bruce rewarded him with\nlands belonging to the rebellious MacGregors, including Glenurchy, the\ngreat glen at the head of Loch Awe through which flows the river\nOrchy. It was a wild and lonely district, and Sir Nigel Campbell had\nmuch conflict before he finally expelled the MacGregors and settled\ndown peaceably in Glenurchy. There his son was born, and named Colin,\nand as years passed he won the nickname of Black Colin, from his\nswarthy complexion, or possibly from his character, which showed\ntokens of unusual fierceness and determination.\n\n\nBlack Colin's Youth\n\nSir Nigel Campbell, as all Highland chiefs did, sent his son to a\nfarmer's family for fosterage. The boy became a child of his\nfoster-family in every way; he lived on the plain food of the\nclansmen, oatmeal porridge and oatcake, milk from the cows, and beef\nfrom the herds; he ran and wrestled and hunted with his\nfoster-brothers, and learnt woodcraft and warlike skill, broadsword\nplay and the use of dirk and buckler, from his foster-father. More\nthan all, he won a devoted following in the clan, for a man's\nfoster-parents were almost dearer to him than his own father and\nmother, and his foster-brethren were bound to fight and die for him,\nand to regard him more than their own blood-relations. The\nfoster-parents of Black Colin were a farmer and his wife, Patterson by\nname, living at Socach, in Glenurchy, and well and truly they\nfulfilled their trust.\n\n\nHe Goes on Crusade\n\nIn course of time Sir Nigel Campbell died, and Black Colin, his son,\nbecame Knight of Loch Awe, and lord of all Glenurchy and the country\nround. He was already noted for his strength and his dark complexion,\nwhich added to his beauty in the eyes of the maidens, and he soon\nfound a lovely and loving bride. They dwelt on the Islet in Loch Awe,\nand were very happy for a short time, but Colin was always restless,\nbecause he would fain do great deeds of arms, and there was peace just\nthen in the land.\n\nAt last one day a messenger arrived at the castle on the Islet bearing\ntidings that another crusade was on foot. This messenger was a palmer\nwho had been in the Holy Land, and had seen all the holy places in\nJerusalem. He told Black Colin how the Saracens ruled the country,\nand hindered men from worshipping at the sacred shrines; and he told\nhow he had come home by Rome, where the Pope had just proclaimed\nanother Holy War. The Pope had declared that his blessing would rest\non the man who should leave wife and home and kinsfolk, and go forth\nto fight for the Lord against the infidel. As the palmer spoke Black\nColin became greatly moved by his words, and when the old man had made\nan end he raised the hilt of his dirk and swore by the cross thereon\nthat he would obey the summons and go on crusade.\n\n\nThe Lady of Loch Awe\n\nNow Black Colin's wife was greatly grieved, and wept sorely, for she\nwas but young, and had been wedded no more than a year, and it seemed\nto her hard that she must be left alone. She asked her husband: \"How\nfar will you go on this errand?\" \"I will go as far as Jerusalem, if\nthe Pope bids me, when I have come to Rome,\" said he. \"Alas! and how\nlong will you be away from me?\" \"That I know not, but it may be for\nyears if the heathen Saracens will not surrender the Holy Land to the\nwarriors of the Cross.\" \"What shall I do during those long, weary\nyears?\" asked she. \"Dear love, you shall dwell here on the Islet and\nbe Lady of Glenurchy till I return again. The vassals and clansmen\nshall obey you in my stead, and the tenants shall pay you their rents\nand their dues, and in all things you shall hold my land for me.\"\n\n\nThe Token\n\nThe Lady of Loch Awe sighed as she asked: \"But if you die away in that\ndistant land how shall I know? What will become of me if at last such\nwoeful tidings should be brought?\"\n\n\"Wait for me seven years, dear wife,\" said Colin, \"and if I do not\nreturn before the end of that time you may marry again and take a\nbrave husband to guard your rights and rule the glen, for I shall be\ndead in the Holy Land.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Wait for me seven years, dear wife\"]\n\n\"That I will never do. I will be the Lady of Glenurchy till I die, or\nI will become the bride of Heaven and find peace for my sorrowing soul\nin a nunnery. No second husband shall wed me and hold your land. But\ngive me now some token that we may share it between us; and you shall\nswear that on your deathbed you will send it to me; so shall I know\nindeed that you are no longer alive.\"\n\n\"It shall be as you say,\" answered Black Colin, and he went to the\nsmith of the clan and bade him make a massive gold ring, on which\nColin's name was engraved, as well as that of the Lady of Loch Awe.\nThen, breaking the ring in two, Colin gave to his wife the piece with\nhis name and kept the other piece, vowing to wear it near his heart\nand only to part with it when he should be dying. In like manner she\nwith bitter weeping swore to keep her half of the ring, and hung it on\na chain round her neck; and so, with much grief and great mourning\nfrom the whole clan, Black Colin and his sturdy following of Campbell\nclansmen set out for the Holy Land.\n\n\nThe Journey\n\nSadly at first the little band marched away from all their friends and\ntheir homes; bagpipes played their loudest marching tunes, and plaids\nfluttered in the breeze, and the men marched gallantly, but with heavy\nhearts, for they knew not when they would return, and they feared\nto find supplanters in their homes when they came back after many\nyears. Their courage rose, however, as the miles lengthened behind\nthem, and by the time they had reached Edinburgh and had taken ship at\nLeith all was forgotten but the joy of fighting and the eager desire\nto see Rome and the Pope, the Holy Land and the Holy Sepulchre.\nJourneying up the Rhine, the Highland clansmen made their way through\nSwitzerland and over the passes of the Alps down into the pleasant\nland of Italy, where the splendour of the cities surpassed their\nwildest imaginations; and so they came at last, with many other bands\nof Crusaders, to Rome.\n\n\nThe Crusade\n\nAt Rome the Knight of Loch Awe was so fortunate as to have an audience\nof the Pope himself, who was touched by the devotion which brought\nthese stern warriors so far from their home. Black Colin knelt in\nreverence before the aged pontiff, whom he held in truth to be the\nVicar of Christ on earth, and received his blessing, and commands to\ncontinue his journey to Rhodes, where the Knights of St. John would\ngive him opportunity to fight for the faith. The small band of\nCampbells went on to Rhodes, and there took service with the Knights,\nand won great praise from the Grand Master; but, though they fought\nthe infidel, and exalted the standard of the Cross above the Crescent,\nColin was still not at all satisfied. He left Rhodes after some years\nwith a much-diminished band, and made his way as a pilgrim to\nJerusalem. There he stayed until he had visited all the shrines in the\nHoly Land and prayed at every sacred spot. By this time the seven\nyears of his proposed absence were ended, and he was still far from\nhis home and the dear glen by Loch Awe.\n\n\nThe Lady's Suitor\n\nWhile the seven years slowly passed away his sad and lonely wife dwelt\nin the castle on the Islet, ruling her lord's clan in all gentle ways,\nbut fighting boldly when raiders came to plunder her clansmen. Yearly\nshe claimed her husband's dues and watched that he was not defrauded\nof his rights. But though thus firm, she was the best help in trouble\nthat her clan ever had, and all blessed the name of the Lady of Loch\nAwe.\n\nSo fair and gentle a lady, so beloved by her clan, was certain to have\nsuitors if she were a widow, and even before the seven years had\npassed away there were men who would gladly have persuaded her that\nher husband was dead and that she was free. She, however, steadfastly\nrefused to hear a word of another marriage, saying: \"When Colin parted\nfrom me he gave me two promises, one to return, if possible, within\nseven years, and the other to send me, on his deathbed, if he died\naway from me, a sure token of his death. I have not yet waited seven\nyears, nor have I had the token of his death. I am still the wife of\nBlack Colin of Loch Awe.\"\n\nThis steadfastness gradually daunted her suitors and they left her\nalone, until but one remained, the Baron Niel MacCorquodale, whose\nlands bordered on Glenurchy, and who had long cast covetous eyes on\nthe glen and its fair lady, and longed no less for the wealth she was\nreputed to possess than for the power this marriage would give him.\n\n\nThe Baron's Plot\n\nWhen the seven years were over the Baron MacCorquodale sought the Lady\nof Loch Awe again, wooing her for his wife. Again she refused,\nsaying, \"Until I have the token of my husband's death I will be wife\nto no other man.\" \"And what is this token, lady?\" asked the Baron, for\nhe thought he could send a false one. \"I will never tell that,\"\nreplied the lady. \"Do you dare to ask the most sacred secret between\nhusband and wife? I shall know the token when it comes.\" The Baron was\nnot a little enraged that he could not discover the secret, but he\ndetermined to wed the lady and her wealth notwithstanding; accordingly\nhe wrote by a sure and secret messenger to a friend in Rome, bidding\nhim send a letter with news that Black Colin was assuredly dead, and\nthat certain words (which the Baron dictated) had come from him.\n\n\nA Forged Letter\n\nOne day the Lady of Loch Awe, looking out from her castle, saw the\nBaron coming, and with him a palmer whose face was bronzed by Eastern\nsuns. She felt that the palmer would bring tidings, and welcomed the\nBaron with his companion. \"Lady, this palmer brings you sad news,\"\nquoth the Baron. \"Let him tell it, then,\" replied she, sick with fear.\n\"Alas! fair dame, if you were the wife of that gallant knight Colin of\nLoch Awe, you are now his widow,\" said the palmer sadly, as he handed\nher a letter. \"What proof have you?\" asked Black Colin's wife before\nshe read the letter. \"Lady, I talked with the soldier who brought the\ntidings,\" replied the stranger.\n\nThe letter was written from Rome to \"The Right Noble Dame the Lady of\nLoch Awe,\" and told how news had come from Rhodes, brought by a man of\nBlack Colin's band, that the Knight of Loch Awe had been mortally\nwounded in a fight against the Saracens. Dying, he had bidden his\nclansmen return to their lady, but they had all perished but one,\nfighting for vengeance against the infidels. This man, who had held\nthe dying Knight tenderly upon his knee, said that Colin bade his wife\nfarewell, bade her remember his injunction to wed again and find a\nprotector, gasped out, \"Take her the token I promised; it is here,\"\nand died; but the Saracens attacked the Christians again, drove them\nback, and plundered the bodies of the slain, and when the one survivor\nreturned to search for the precious token there was none! The body was\nstripped of everything of value, and the clansman wound it in the\nplaid and buried it on the battlefield.\n\n\nThe Lady's Stratagem\n\nThere seemed no reason for the lady to doubt this news, and her grief\nwas very real and sincere. She clad herself in mourning robes and\nbewailed her lost husband, but yet she was not entirely satisfied, for\nshe still wore the broken half of the engraved ring on the chain round\nher neck, and still the promised death-token had not come. The Baron\nnow pressed his suit with greater ardour than before, and the Lady of\nLoch Awe was hard put to it to find reasons for refusing him. It was\nnecessary to keep him on good terms with the clan, for his lands\nbordered on those of Glenurchy, and he could have made war on the\npeople in the glen quite easily, while the knowledge that their chief\nwas dead would have made them a broken clan. So the lady turned to\nguile, as did Penelope of old in similar distress. \"I will wed you,\nnow that my Colin is dead,\" she replied at last, \"but it cannot be\nimmediately; I must first build a castle that will command the head of\nGlenurchy and of Loch Awe. The MacGregors knew the best place for a\nhouse, there on Innis Eoalan; there, where the ruins of MacGregor's\nWhite House now stand, will I build my castle. When it is finished the\ntime of my mourning will be over, and I will fix the bridal day.\" With\nthis promise the Baron had perforce to be contented, and the castle\nbegan to rise slowly at the head of Loch Awe; but its progress was not\nrapid, because the lady secretly bade her men build feebly, and often\nthe walls fell down, so that the new castle was very long in coming to\ncompletion.\n\n\nBlack Colin Hears the News\n\nIn the meantime all who loved Black Colin grieved to know that the\nLady of Loch Awe would wed again, and his foster-mother sorrowed most\nof all, for she felt sure that her beloved Colin was not dead. The\ndeath-token had not been sent, and she sorely mistrusted the Baron\nMacCorquodale and doubted the truth of the palmer's message. At last,\nwhen the new castle was nearly finished and shone white in the rays of\nthe sun, she called one of her sons and bade him journey to Rome to\nfind the Knight of Loch Awe, if he were yet alive, and to bring sure\ntidings of his death if he were no longer living. The young Patterson\nset off secretly, and reached Rome in due course, and there he met\nBlack Colin, just returned from Jerusalem. The Knight had at last\nrealized that he had spent seven years away from his home, and that\nnow, in spite of all his haste, he might reach Glenurchy too late to\nsave his wife from a second marriage. He comforted himself, however,\nwith the thought that the token was still safe with him, and that his\nwife would be loyal; great, therefore, was his horror when he met his\nfoster-brother and heard how the news of his death had been brought to\nthe glen. He heard also how his wife had reluctantly promised to marry\nthe Baron MacCorquodale, and had delayed her wedding by stratagem,\nand he vowed that he would return to Glenurchy in time to spoil the\nplans of the wicked baron.\n\n\nBlack Colin's Return\n\nTravelling day and night, Black Colin, with his faithful clansman,\ncame near to Glenurchy, and sent his follower on in advance to bring\nback news. The youth returned with tidings that the wedding had been\nfixed for the next day, since the castle was finished and no further\nexcuse for delay could be made. Then Colin's anger was greatly roused,\nand he vowed that the Baron MacCorquodale, who had stooped to deceit\nand forgery to gain his ends, should pay dearly for his baseness.\nBidding his young clansman show no sign of recognition when he\nappeared, the Knight of Loch Awe sent him to the farm in the glen,\nwhere the anxious foster-mother eagerly awaited the return of the\nwanderer. When she saw her son appear alone she was plunged into\ndespair, for she concluded, not that Black Colin was dead, but that he\nwould return too late. When he, in the beggar's disguise which he\nassumed, came down the Glen he saw the smoke from the castle on the\nIslet, and said: \"I see smoke from my house, and it is the smoke of a\nwedding feast in preparation, but I pray God who sent us light and\nlove that I may reap the fruit of the love that is there.\"\n\n\nThe Foster-Mother's Recognition\n\nThe Knight then went to his foster-mother's house, knocked at the\ndoor, and humbly craved food and shelter, as a beggar. \"Come in, good\nman,\" quoth the mistress of the house; \"sit down in the\nchimney-corner, and you shall have your fill of oatcake and milk.\"\nColin sat down heavily, as if he were overwearied, and the farmer's\nwife moved about slowly, putting before him what she had; and the\nKnight saw that she did not recognise him, and that she had been\nweeping quite recently. \"You are sad, I can see,\" he said. \"What is\nthe cause of your grief?\" \"I am not minded to tell that to a wandering\nstranger,\" she replied. \"Perhaps I can guess what it is,\" he\ncontinued; \"you have lost some dear friend, I think.\" \"My loss is\ngreat enough to give me grief,\" she answered, weeping. \"I had a dear\nfoster-son, who went oversea to fight the heathen. He was dearer to me\nthan my own sons, and now news has come that he is dead in that\nforeign land. And the Lady of Loch Awe, who was his wife, is to wed\nanother husband to-morrow. Long she waited for him, past the seven\nyears he was to be away, and now she would not marry again, but that a\nletter has come to assure her of his death. Even yet she is fretting\nbecause she has not had the token he promised to send her; and she\nwill only marry because she dare no longer delay.\"\n\n\"What is this token?\" asked Colin. \"That I know not: she has never\ntold,\" replied the foster-mother; \"but oh! if he were now here\nGlenurchy would never fall under the power of Baron MacCorquodale.\"\n\"Would you know Black Colin if you were to see him?\" the beggar asked\nmeaningly; and she replied: \"I think I should, for though he has been\naway for years, I nursed him, and he is my own dear fosterling.\" \"Look\nwell at me, then, good mother of mine, for I am Colin of Loch Awe.\"\n\nThe mistress of the farm seized the beggar-man by the arm, drew him\nout into the light, and looked earnestly into his face; then, with a\nscream of joy, she flung her arms around him, and cried: \"O Colin!\nColin! my dear son, home again at last! Glad and glad I am to see you\nhere in time! Weary have the years been since my nursling went away,\nbut now you are home all will be well.\" And she embraced him and\nkissed him and stroked his hair, and exclaimed at his bronzed hue and\nhis ragged attire.\n\n\nThe Foster-Mother's Plan\n\nAt last Colin stopped her raptures. \"Tell me, mother, does my wife\nseem to wish for this marriage?\" he asked; and his foster-mother\nanswered: \"Nay, my son, she would not wed now but that, thinking you\nare dead, she fears the Baron's anger if she continues to refuse him.\nBut if you doubt her heart, follow my counsel, and you shall be\nassured of her will in this matter.\" \"What do you advise?\" asked he.\nShe answered: \"Stay this night with me here, and to-morrow go in your\nbeggar's dress to the castle on the Islet. Stand with other beggars at\nthe door, and refuse to go until the bride herself shall bring you\nfood and drink. Then you can put your token in the cup the Lady of\nLoch Awe will hand you, and by her behaviour you shall learn if her\nheart is in this marriage or not.\" \"Dear mother, your plan is good,\nand I will follow it,\" quoth Colin. \"This night I will rest here, and\non the morrow I will seek my wife.\"\n\n\nThe Beggar at the Wedding\n\nEarly next day Colin arose, clad himself in the disguise of a sturdy\nbeggar, took a kindly farewell of his foster-mother, and made his way\nto the castle. Early as it was, all the servants were astir, and the\nwhole place was in a bustle of preparation, while vagabonds of every\ndescription hung round the doors, begging for food and money in honour\nof the day. The new-comer acted much more boldly: he planted himself\nright in the open doorway and begged for food and drink in such a\nlordly tone that the servants were impressed by it, and one of them\nbrought him what he asked--oatcake and buttermilk--and gave it to him,\nsaying, \"Take this and begone.\" Colin took the alms and drank the\nbuttermilk, but put the cake into his wallet, and stood sturdily right\nin the doorway, so that the servants found it difficult to enter.\nAnother servant came to him with more food and a horn of ale, saying,\n\"Now take this second gift of food and begone, for you are in our way\nhere, and hinder us in our work.\"\n\n\nThe Beggar's Demand\n\nBut he stood more firmly still, with his stout travelling-staff\nplanted on the threshold, and said: \"I will not go.\" Then a third\nservant approached, who said: \"Go at once, or it will be the worse for\nyou. We have given you quite enough for one beggar. Leave quickly now,\nor you will get us and yourself into trouble.\" The disguised Knight\nonly replied: \"I will not go until the bride herself comes out to give\nme a drink of wine,\" and he would not move, for all they could say.\nThe servants at last grew so perplexed that they went to tell their\nmistress about this importunate beggar. She laughed as she said: \"It\nis not much for me to do on my last day in the old house,\" and she\nbade a servant attend her to the door, bringing a large jug full of\nwine.\n\n\nThe Token\n\nAs the unhappy bride came out to the beggar-man he bent his head in\ngreeting, and she noticed his travel-stained dress and said: \"You have\ncome from far, good man\"; and he replied: \"Yes, lady, I have seen many\ndistant lands.\" \"Alas! others have gone to see distant lands and have\nnot returned,\" said she. \"If you would have a drink from the hands of\nthe bride herself, I am she, and you may take your wine now\"; and,\nholding a bowl in her hands, she bade the servant fill it with wine,\nand then gave it to Colin. \"I drink to your happiness,\" said he, and\ndrained the bowl. As he gave it back to the lady he placed within it\nthe token, the half of the engraved ring. \"I return it richer than I\ntook it, lady,\" said he, and his wife looked within and saw the token.\n\n\nThe Recognition\n\nTrembling violently, she snatched the tiny bit of gold from the bottom\nof the bowl, which fell to the ground and broke at her feet, and then\nshe saw her own name engraved upon it. She looked long and long at the\ntoken, and then, pulling a chain at her neck, drew out her half of the\nring with Colin's name engraved on it. \"O stranger, tell me, is my\nhusband dead?\" she asked, grasping the beggar's arm. \"Dead?\" he\nquestioned, gazing tenderly at her; and at his tone she looked\nstraight into his eyes and knew him. \"My husband!\" was all that she\ncould say, but she flung her arms around his neck and was clasped\nclose to his heart. The servants stood bewildered, but in a moment\ntheir mistress had turned to them, saying, \"Run, summon all the\nhousehold, bring them all, for this is my husband, Black Colin of Loch\nAwe, come home to me again.\" When all in the castle knew it there was\ngreat excitement and rejoicing, and they feasted bountifully, for the\nwedding banquet had been prepared.\n\n\nThe Baron's Flight\n\nWhile the feast was in progress, and the happy wife sat by her\nlong-lost husband and held his hand, as though she feared to let him\nleave her, a distant sound of bagpipes was heard, and the lady\nremembered that the Baron MacCorquodale would be coming for his\nwedding, which she had entirely forgotten in her joy. She laughed\nlightly to herself, and, beckoning a clansman, bade him go and tell\nthe Baron that she would take no new husband, since her old one had\ncome back to her, and that there would be questions to be answered\nwhen time served. The Baron MacCorquodale, in his wedding finery, with\na great party of henchmen and vassals and pipers blowing a wedding\nmarch, had reached the mouth of the river which enters the side of\nLoch Awe; the party had crossed the river, and were ready to take boat\nacross to the Islet, when they saw a solitary man rowing towards them\nwith all speed. \"It is some messenger from my lady,\" said the Baron,\nand he waited eagerly to hear the message. With dreadful consternation\nhe listened to the unexpected words as the clansman delivered them,\nand then bade the pipers cease their music. \"We must return; there\nwill be no wedding to-day, since Black Colin is home again,\" quoth he;\nand the crestfallen party retraced their steps, quickening them more\nand more as they thought of the vengeance of the long-lost chieftain;\nbut they reached their home in safety.\n\n\nCastle Kilchurn\n\nIn the meantime Colin had much to tell his wife of his adventures, and\nto ask her of her life all these years. They told each other all, and\nColin saw the false letter that had been sent to the Lady of Loch Awe,\nand guessed who had plotted this deceit. His anger grew against the\nbad man who had wrought this wrong and had so nearly gained his end,\nand he vowed that he would make the Baron dearly abide it. His wife\ncalmed his fury somewhat by telling him how she had waited even\nbeyond the seven years, and what stratagem she had used, and at last\nhe promised not to make war on the Baron, but to punish him in other\nways.\n\n\"Tell me what you have done with the rents of Glenurchy these seven\nyears,\" said he. Then the happy wife replied: \"With part I have lived,\nwith part I have guarded the glen, and with part have I made a cairn\nof stones at the head of Loch Awe. Will you come with me and see it?\"\nAnd Colin went, deeply puzzled. When they came to the head of Loch\nAwe, there stood the new castle, on the site of the old house of the\nMacGregors; and the proud wife laughed as she said: \"Do you like my\ncairn of stones? It has taken long to build.\" Black Colin was much\npleased with the beautiful castle she had raised for him, and renamed\nit Kilchurn Castle, which title it still keeps. True to his vow, he\ntook no bloody vengeance on the Baron MacCorquodale, but when a few\nyears after he fell into his power the Knight of Loch Awe forced him\nto resign a great part of his lands to be united with those of\nGlenurchy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII: THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAYNE\n\n\nIntroduction\n\nThe heroes of chivalry, from Roland the noble paladin to Spenser's\nRed-Cross Knight, have many virtues to uphold, and their\ncharacteristics are as varied as are the races which adopted chivalry\nand embodied it in their hero-myths. It is a far cry from the loyalty\nof Roland, in which love for his emperor is the predominant\ncharacteristic, to the tender and graceful reverence of Sir Calidore;\nbut mediaeval Wales, which has preserved the Arthurian legend most free\nfrom alien admixture, had a knight of courtesy quite equal to Sir\nCalidore. Courage was one quality on the possession of which these\nmediaeval knights never prided themselves, because they could not\nimagine life without courage, but gentle courtesy was, unhappily,\nrare, and many a heroic legend is spoilt by the insolence of the hero\nto people of lower rank. Again, the legends often look lightly on the\nill-treatment of maidens; yet the true hero is one who is never\ntempted to injure a defenceless woman. Similarly, a broken oath to a\nheathen or mere churl is excused as a trifling matter, but the ideal\nhero sweareth and breaketh not, though it be to his own hindrance.\n\n\nSir Gawayne\n\nThe true Knight of Courtesy is Sir Gawayne, King Arthur's nephew, who\nin many ways overshadows his more illustrious uncle. It is remarkable\nthat the King Arthur of the mediaeval romances is either a mere\nordinary conqueror or a secondary figure set in the background to\nheighten the achievements of his more warlike followers. The latter is\nthe conception of Arthur which we find in this legend of the gentle\nand courteous Sir Gawayne.\n\n\nKing Arthur Keeps Christmas\n\nOne year the noble King Arthur was keeping his Christmas at Carlisle\nwith great pomp and state. By his side sat his lovely Queen Guenever,\nthe brightest and most beauteous bride that a king ever wedded, and\nabout him were gathered the Knights of the Round Table. Never had a\nking assembled so goodly a company of valiant warriors as now sat in\ndue order at the Round Table in the great hall of Carlisle Castle, and\nKing Arthur's heart was filled with pride as he looked on his heroes.\nThere sat Sir Lancelot, not yet the betrayer of his lord's honour and\nhappiness, with Sir Bors and Sir Banier, there Sir Bedivere, loyal to\nKing Arthur till death, there surly Sir Kay, the churlish steward of\nthe king's household, and King Arthur's nephews, the young and gallant\nSir Gareth, the gentle and courteous Sir Gawayne, and the false,\ngloomy Sir Mordred, who wrought King Arthur's overthrow. The knights\nand ladies were ranged in their fitting degrees and ranks, the\nservants and pages waited and carved and filled the golden goblets,\nand the minstrels sang to their harps lays of heroes of the olden\ntime.\n\n\nHis Discontent\n\nYet in the midst of all this splendour the king was ill at ease, for\nhe was a warlike knight and longed for some new adventure, and of late\nnone had been known. Arthur sat moodily among his knights and drained\nthe wine-cup in silence, and Queen Guenever, gazing at her husband,\ndurst not interrupt his gloomy thoughts. At last the king raised his\nhead, and, striking the table with his hand, exclaimed fiercely: \"Are\nall my knights sluggards or cowards, that none of them goes forth to\nseek adventures? You are better fitted to feast well in hall than\nfight well in field. Is my fame so greatly decayed that no man cares\nto ask for my help or my support against evildoers? I vow here, by the\nboar's head and by Our Lady, that I will not rise from this table till\nsome adventure be undertaken.\" \"Sire, your loyal knights have gathered\nround you to keep the holy Yuletide in your court,\" replied Sir\nLancelot; and Sir Gawayne said: \"Fair uncle, we are not cowards, but\nfew evildoers dare to show themselves under your rule; hence it is\nthat we seem idle. But see yonder! By my faith, now cometh an\nadventure.\"\n\n\nThe Damsel's Request\n\nEven as Sir Gawayne spoke a fair damsel rode into the hall, with\nflying hair and disordered dress, and, dismounting from her steed,\nknelt down sobbing at Arthur's feet. She cried aloud, so that all\nheard her: \"A boon, a boon, King Arthur! I beg a boon of you!\" \"What\nis your request?\" said the king, for the maiden was in great distress,\nand her tears filled his heart with pity. \"What would you have of me?\"\n\"I cry for vengeance on a churlish knight, who has separated my love\nfrom me.\" \"Tell your story quickly,\" said King Arthur; and all the\nknights listened while the lady spoke.\n\n\"I was betrothed to a gallant knight,\" she said, \"whom I loved dearly,\nand we were entirely happy until yesterday. Then as we rode out\ntogether planning our marriage we came, through the moorland ways,\nunnoticing, to a fair lake, Tarn Wathelan, where stood a great castle,\nwith streamers flying, and banners waving in the wind. It seemed a\nstrong and goodly place, but alas! it stood on magic ground, and\nwithin the enchanted circle of its shadow an evil spell fell on every\nknight who set foot therein. As my love and I looked idly at the\nmighty keep a horrible and churlish warrior, twice the size of mortal\nman, rushed forth in complete armour; grim and fierce-looking he was,\narmed with a huge club, and sternly he bade my knight leave me to him\nand go his way alone. Then my love drew his sword to defend me, but\nthe evil spell had robbed him of all strength, and he could do nought\nagainst the giant's club; his sword fell from his feeble hand, and the\nchurlish knight, seizing him, caused him to be flung into a dungeon.\nHe then returned and sorely ill-treated me, though I prayed for mercy\nin the name of chivalry and of Mary Mother. At last, when he set me\nfree and bade me go, I said I would come to King Arthur's court and\nbeg a champion of might to avenge me, perhaps even the king himself.\nBut the giant only laughed aloud. 'Tell the foolish king,' quoth he,\n'that here I stay his coming, and that no fear of him shall stop my\nworking my will on all who come. Many knights have I in prison, some\nof them King Arthur's own true men; wherefore bid him fight with me,\nif he will win them back.' Thus, laughing and jeering loudly at you,\nKing Arthur, the churlish knight returned to his castle, and I rode to\nCarlisle as fast as I could.\"\n\n\nKing Arthur's Vow\n\nWhen the lady had ended her sorrowful tale all present were greatly\nmoved with indignation and pity, but King Arthur felt the insult most\ndeeply. He sprang to his feet in great wrath, and cried aloud: \"I vow\nby my knighthood, and by the Holy Rood, that I will go forth to find\nthat proud giant, and will never leave him till I have overcome him.\"\nThe knights applauded their lord's vow, but Queen Guenever looked\ndoubtfully at the king, for she had noticed the damsel's mention of\nmagic, and she feared some evil adventure for her husband. The damsel\nstayed in Carlisle that night, and in the morning, after he had heard\nMass, and bidden farewell to his wife, King Arthur rode away. It was a\nlonely journey to Tarn Wathelan, but the country was very beautiful,\nthough wild and rugged, and the king soon saw the little lake gleaming\nclear and cold below him, while the enchanted castle towered up above\nthe water, with banners flaunting defiantly in the wind.\n\n\nThe Fight\n\nThe king drew his sword Excalibur and blew a loud note on his bugle.\nThrice his challenge note resounded, but brought no reply, and then he\ncried aloud: \"Come forth, proud knight! King Arthur is here to punish\nyou for your misdeeds! Come forth and fight bravely. If you are\nafraid, then come forth and yield yourself my thrall.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"The King blew a loud note on his bugle\"]\n\nThe churlish giant darted out at the summons, brandishing his massive\nclub, and rushed straight at King Arthur. The spell of the enchanted\nground seized the king at that moment, and his hand sank down. Down\nfell his good sword Excalibur, down fell his shield, and he found\nhimself ignominiously helpless in the presence of his enemy.\n\n\nThe Ransom\n\nNow the giant cried aloud: \"Yield or fight, King Arthur; which will\nyou do? If you fight I shall conquer you, for you have no power to\nresist me; you will be my prisoner, with no hope of ransom, will lose\nyour land and spend your life in my dungeon with many other brave\nknights. If you yield I will hold you to ransom, but you must swear\nto accept the terms I shall offer.\"\n\n\"What are they,\" asked King Arthur. The giant replied: \"You must swear\nsolemnly, by the Holy Rood, that you will return here on New Year's\nDay and bring me a true answer to the question, 'What thing is it that\nall women most desire?' If you fail to bring the right answer your\nransom is not paid, and you are yet my prisoner. Do you accept my\nterms?\" The king had no alternative: so long as he stood on the\nenchanted ground his courage was overborne by the spell and he could\nonly hold up his hand and swear by the Sacred Cross and by Our Lady\nthat he would return, with such answers as he could obtain, on New\nYear's Day.\n\n\nThe King's Search\n\nAshamed and humiliated, the king rode away, but not back to\nCarlisle--he would not return home till he had fulfilled his task; so\nhe rode east and west and north and south, and asked every woman and\nmaid he met the question the churlish knight had put to him. \"What is\nit all women most desire?\" he asked, and all gave him different\nreplies: some said riches, some splendour, some pomp and state; others\ndeclared that fine attire was women's chief delight, yet others voted\nfor mirth or flattery; some declared that a handsome lover was the\ncherished wish of every woman's heart; and among them all the king\ngrew quite bewildered. He wrote down all the answers he received, and\nsealed them with his own seal, to give to the churlish knight when he\nreturned to the Castle of Tarn Wathelan; but in his own heart King\nArthur felt that the true answer had not yet been given to him. He was\nsad as he turned and rode towards the giant's home on New Year's Day,\nfor he feared to lose his liberty and lands, and the lonely journey\nseemed much more dreary than it had before, when he rode out from\nCarlisle so full of hope and courage and self-confidence.\n\n\nThe Loathly Lady\n\nArthur was riding mournfully through a lonely forest when he heard a\nwoman's voice greeting him: \"God save you, King Arthur! God save and\nkeep you!\" and he turned at once to see the person who thus addressed\nhim. He saw no one at all on his right hand, but as he turned to the\nother side he perceived a woman's form clothed in brilliant scarlet;\nthe figure was seated between a holly-tree and an oak, and the berries\nof the former were not more vivid than her dress, and the brown leaves\nof the latter not more brown and wrinkled than her cheeks. At first\nsight King Arthur thought he must be bewitched--no such nightmare of a\nhuman face had ever seemed to him possible. Her nose was crooked and\nbent hideously to one side, while her chin seemed to bend to the\nopposite side of her face; her one eye was set deep under her beetling\nbrow, and her mouth was nought but a gaping slit. Round this awful\ncountenance hung snaky locks of ragged grey hair, and she was deadly\npale, with a bleared and dimmed blue eye. The king nearly swooned when\nhe saw this hideous sight, and was so amazed that he did not answer\nher salutation. The loathly lady seemed angered by the insult: \"Now\nChrist save you, King Arthur! Who are you to refuse to answer my\ngreeting and take no heed of me? Little of courtesy have you and your\nknights in your fine court in Carlisle if you cannot return a lady's\ngreeting. Yet, Sir King, proud as you are, it may be that I can help\nyou, loathly though I be; but I will do nought for one who will not be\ncourteous to me.\"\n\n\nThe Lady's Secret\n\nKing Arthur was ashamed of his lack of courtesy, and tempted by the\nhint that here was a woman who could help him. \"Forgive me, lady,\"\nsaid he; \"I was sorely troubled in mind, and thus, and not for want of\ncourtesy, did I miss your greeting. You say that you can perhaps help\nme; if you would do this, lady, and teach me how to pay my ransom, I\nwill grant anything you ask as a reward.\" The deformed lady said:\n\"Swear to me, by Holy Rood, and by Mary Mother, that you will grant me\nwhatever boon I ask, and I will help you to the secret. Yes, Sir King,\nI know by secret means that you seek the answer to the question, 'What\nis it all women most desire?' Many women have given you many replies,\nbut I alone, by my magic power, can give you the right answer. This\nsecret I will tell you, and in truth it will pay your ransom, when you\nhave sworn to keep faith with me.\" \"Indeed, O grim lady, the oath I\nwill take gladly,\" said King Arthur; and when he had sworn it, with\nuplifted hand, the lady told him the secret, and he vowed with great\nbursts of laughter that this was indeed the right answer.\n\n\nThe Ransom\n\nWhen the king had thoroughly realized the wisdom of the answer he rode\non to the Castle of Tarn Wathelan, and blew his bugle three times. As\nit was New Year's Day, the churlish knight was ready for him, and\nrushed forth, club in hand, ready to do battle. \"Sir Knight,\" said the\nking, \"I bring here writings containing answers to your question; they\nare replies that many women have given, and should be right; these I\nbring in ransom for my life and lands.\" The churlish knight took the\nwritings and read them one by one, and each one he flung aside, till\nall had been read; then he said to the king: \"You must yield yourself\nand your lands to me, King Arthur, and rest my prisoner; for though\nthese answers be many and wise, not one is the true reply to my\nquestion; your ransom is not paid, and your life and all you have is\nforfeit to me.\" \"Alas! Sir Knight,\" quoth the king, \"stay your hand,\nand let me speak once more before I yield to you; it is not much to\ngrant to one who risks life and kingdom and all. Give me leave to try\none more reply.\" To this the giant assented, and King Arthur\ncontinued: \"This morning as I rode through the forest I beheld a lady\nsitting, clad in scarlet, between an oak and a holly-tree; she says,\n'All women will have their own way, and this is their chief desire.'\nNow confess that I have brought the true answer to your question, and\nthat I am free, and have paid the ransom for my life and lands.\"\n\n\nThe Price of the Ransom\n\nThe giant waxed furious with rage, and shouted: \"A curse upon that\nlady who told you this! It must have been my sister, for none but she\nknew the answer. Tell me, was she ugly and deformed?\" When King Arthur\nreplied that she was a loathly lady, the giant broke out: \"I vow to\nheaven that if I can once catch her I will burn her alive; for she has\ncheated me of being King of Britain. Go your ways, Arthur; you have\nnot ransomed yourself, but the ransom is paid and you are free.\"\n\nGladly the king rode back to the forest where the loathly lady awaited\nhim, and stopped to greet her. \"I am free now, lady, thanks to you!\nWhat boon do you ask in reward for your help? I have promised to\ngrant it you, whatever it may be.\" \"This is my boon King Arthur, that\nyou will bring some young and courteous knight from your court in\nCarlisle to marry me, and he must be brave and handsome too. You have\nsworn to fulfil my request, and you cannot break your word.\" These\nlast words were spoken as the king shook his head and seemed on the\npoint of refusing a request so unreasonable; but at this reminder he\nonly hung his head and rode slowly away, while the unlovely lady\nwatched him with a look of mingled pain and glee.\n\n\nKing Arthur's Return\n\nOn the second day of the new year King Arthur came home to Carlisle.\nWearily he rode along and dismounted at the castle, and wearily he\nwent into his hall, where sat Queen Guenever. She had been very\nanxious during her husband's absence, for she dreaded magic arts, but\nshe greeted him gladly and said: \"Welcome, my dear lord and king,\nwelcome home again! What anxiety I have endured for you! But now you\nare here all is well. What news do you bring, my liege? Is the\nchurlish knight conquered? Where have you had him hanged, and where is\nhis head? Placed on a spike above some town-gate? Tell me your\ntidings, and we will rejoice together.\" King Arthur only sighed\nheavily as he replied: \"Alas! I have boasted too much; the churlish\nknight was a giant who has conquered me, and set me free on\nconditions.\" \"My lord, tell me how this has chanced.\" \"His castle is\nan enchanted one, standing on enchanted ground, and surrounded with a\ncircle of magic spells which sap the bravery from a warrior's mind and\nthe strength from his arm. When I came on his land and felt the power\nof his mighty charms, I was unable to resist him, but fell into his\npower, and had to yield myself to him. He released me on condition\nthat I would fulfil one thing which he bade me accomplish, and this I\nwas enabled to do by the help of a loathly lady; but that help was\ndearly bought, and I cannot pay the price myself.\"\n\n\nSir Gawayne's Devotion\n\nBy this time Sir Gawayne, the king's favourite nephew, had entered the\nhall, and greeted his uncle warmly; then, with a few rapid questions,\nhe learnt the king's news, and saw that he was in some distress. \"What\nhave you paid the loathly lady for her secret, uncle?\" he asked.\n\"Alas! I have paid her nothing; but I promised to grant her any boon\nshe asked, and she has asked a thing impossible.\" \"What is it?\" asked\nSir Gawayne. \"Since you have promised it, the promise must needs be\nkept. Can I help you to perform your vow?\" \"Yes, you can, fair nephew\nGawayne, but I will never ask you to do a thing so terrible,\" said\nKing Arthur. \"I am ready to do it, uncle, were it to wed the loathly\nlady herself.\" \"That is what she asks, that a fair young knight should\nmarry her. But she is too hideous and deformed; no man could make her\nhis wife.\" \"If that is all your grief,\" replied Sir Gawayne, \"things\nshall soon be settled; I will wed this ill-favoured dame, and will be\nyour ransom.\" \"You know not what you offer,\" answered the king. \"I\nnever saw so deformed a being. Her speech is well enough, but her face\nis terrible, with crooked nose and chin, and she has only one eye.\"\n\"She must be an ill-favoured maiden; but I heed it not,\" said Sir\nGawayne gallantly, \"so that I can save you from trouble and care.\"\n\"Thanks, dear Gawayne, thanks a thousand times! Now through your\ndevotion I can keep my word. To-morrow we must fetch your bride from\nher lonely lodging in the greenwood; but we will feign some pretext\nfor the journey. I will summon a hunting party, with horse and hound\nand gallant riders, and none shall know that we go to bring home so\nugly a bride.\" \"Gramercy, uncle,\" said Sir Gawayne. \"Till to-morrow I\nam a free man.\"\n\n\nThe Hunting Party\n\nThe next day King Arthur summoned all the court to go hunting in the\ngreenwood close to Tarn Wathelan; but he did not lead the chase near\nthe castle: the remembrance of his defeat and shame was too strong for\nhim to wish to see the place again. They roused a noble stag and\nchased him far into the forest, where they lost him amid close\nthickets of holly and yew interspersed with oak copses and hazel\nbushes--bare were the hazels, and brown and withered the clinging oak\nleaves, but the holly looked cheery, with its fresh green leaves and\nscarlet berries. Though the chase had been fruitless, the train of\nknights laughed and talked gaily as they rode back through the forest,\nand the gayest of all was Sir Gawayne; he rode wildly down the forest\ndrives, so recklessly that he drew level with Sir Kay, the churlish\nsteward, who always preferred to ride alone. Sir Lancelot, Sir\nStephen, Sir Banier, and Sir Bors all looked wonderingly at the\nreckless youth; but his younger brother, Gareth, was troubled, for he\nknew all was not well with Gawayne, and Sir Tristram, buried in his\nlove for Isolde, noticed nothing, but rode heedlessly wrapped in sad\nmusings.\n\n\nSir Kay and the Loathly Lady\n\nSuddenly Sir Kay reined up his steed, amazed; his eye had caught the\ngleam of scarlet under the trees, and as he looked he became aware of\na woman, clad in a dress of finest scarlet, sitting between a\nholly-tree and an oak. \"Good greeting to you, Sir Kay,\" said the lady,\nbut the steward was too much amazed to answer. Such a face as that of\nthe lady he had never even imagined, and he took no notice of her\nsalutation. By this time the rest of the knights had joined him, and\nthey all halted, looking in astonishment on the misshapen face of the\npoor creature before them. It seemed terrible that a woman's figure\nshould be surmounted by such hideous features, and most of the knights\nwere silent for pity's sake; but the steward soon recovered from his\namazement, and his rude nature began to show itself. The king had not\nyet appeared, and Sir Kay began to jeer aloud. \"Now which of you would\nfain woo yon fair lady?\" he asked. \"It takes a brave man, for methinks\nhe will stand in fear of any kiss he may get, it must needs be such an\nawesome thing. But yet I know not; any man who would kiss this\nbeauteous damsel may well miss the way to her mouth, and his fate is\nnot quite so dreadful after all. Come, who will win a lovely bride!\"\nJust then King Arthur rode up, and at sight of him Sir Kay was silent;\nbut the loathly lady hid her face in her hands, and wept that he\nshould pour such scorn upon her.\n\n\nThe Betrothal\n\nSir Gawayne was touched with compassion for this uncomely woman alone\namong these gallant and handsome knights, a woman so helpless and\nill-favoured, and he said: \"Peace, churl Kay, the lady cannot help\nherself; and you are not so noble and courteous that you have the\nright to jeer at any maiden; such deeds do not become a knight of\nArthur's Round Table. Besides, one of us knights here must wed this\nunfortunate lady.\" \"Wed her?\" shouted Kay. \"Gawayne, you are mad!\" \"It\nis true, is it not, my liege?\" asked Sir Gawayne, turning to the king;\nand Arthur reluctantly gave token of assent, saying, \"I promised her\nnot long since, for the help she gave me in a great distress, that I\nwould grant her any boon she craved, and she asked for a young and\nnoble knight to be her husband. My royal word is given, and I will\nkeep it; therefore have I brought you here to meet her.\" Sir Kay burst\nout with, \"What? Ask me perchance to wed this foul quean? I'll none of\nher. Where'er I get my wife from, were it from the fiend himself, this\nhideous hag shall never be mine.\" \"Peace, Sir Kay,\" sternly said the\nking; \"you shall not abuse this poor lady as well as refuse her. Mend\nyour speech, or you shall be knight of mine no longer.\" Then he turned\nto the others and said: \"Who will wed this lady and help me to keep my\nroyal pledge? You must not all refuse, for my promise is given, and\nfor a little ugliness and deformity you shall not make me break my\nplighted word of honour.\" As he spoke he watched them keenly, to see\nwho would prove sufficiently devoted, but the knights all began to\nexcuse themselves and to depart. They called their hounds, spurred\ntheir steeds, and pretended to search for the track of the lost stag\nagain; but before they went Sir Gawayne cried aloud: \"Friends, cease\nyour strife and debate, for I will wed this lady myself. Lady, will\nyou have me for your husband?\" Thus saying, he dismounted and knelt\nbefore her.\n\n\nThe Lady's Words\n\nThe poor lady had at first no words to tell her gratitude to Sir\nGawayne, but when she had recovered a little she spoke: \"Alas! Sir\nGawayne, I fear you do but jest. Will you wed with one so ugly and\ndeformed as I? What sort of wife should I be for a knight so gay and\ngallant, so fair and comely as the king's own nephew? What will Queen\nGuenever and the ladies of the Court say when you return to Carlisle\nbringing with you such a bride? You will be shamed, and all through\nme.\" Then she wept bitterly, and her weeping made her seem even more\nhideous; but King Arthur, who was watching the scene, said: \"Lady, I\nwould fain see that knight or dame who dares mock at my nephew's\nbride. I will take order that no such unknightly discourtesy is shown\nin my court,\" and he glared angrily at Sir Kay and the others who had\nstayed, seeing that Sir Gawayne was prepared to sacrifice himself and\ntherefore they were safe. The lady raised her head and looked keenly\nat Sir Gawayne, who took her hand, saying: \"Lady, I will be a true and\nloyal husband to you if you will have me; and I shall know how to\nguard my wife from insult. Come, lady, and my uncle will announce the\nbetrothal.\" Now the lady seemed to believe that Sir Gawayne was in\nearnest, and she sprang to her feet, saying: \"Thanks to you! A\nthousand thanks, Sir Gawayne, and blessings on your head! You shall\nnever rue this wedding, and the courtesy you have shown. Wend we now\nto Carlisle.\"\n\n\nThe Journey to Carlisle\n\nA horse with a side-saddle had been brought for Sir Gawayne's bride,\nbut when the lady moved it became evident that she was lame and halted\nin her walk, and there was a slight hunch on her shoulders. Both of\nthese deformities showed little when she was seated, but as she moved\nthe knights looked at one another, shrugged their shoulders and pitied\nSir Gawayne, whose courtesy had bound him for life to so deformed a\nwife. Then the whole train rode away together, the bride between King\nArthur and her betrothed, and all the knights whispering and sneering\nbehind them. Great was the excitement in Carlisle to see that ugly\ndame, and greater still the bewilderment in the court when they were\ntold that this loathly lady was Sir Gawayne's bride.\n\n\nThe Bridal\n\nOnly Queen Guenever understood, and she showed all courtesy to the\ndeformed bride, and stood by her as her lady-of-honour when the\nwedding took place that evening, while King Arthur was groomsman to\nhis nephew. When the long banquet was over, and bride and bridegroom\nno longer need sit side by side, the tables were cleared and the hall\nwas prepared for a dance, and then men thought that Sir Gawayne would\nbe free for a time to talk with his friends; but he refused. \"Bride\nand bridegroom must tread the first dance together, if she wishes it,\"\nquoth he, and offered his lady his hand for the dance. \"I thank you,\nsweet husband,\" said the grim lady as she took it and moved forward to\nopen the dance with him; and through the long and stately measure that\nfollowed, so perfect was his dignity, and the courtesy and grace with\nwhich he danced, that no man dreamt of smiling as the deformed lady\nmoved clumsily through the figures of the dance.\n\n\nSir Gawayne's Bride\n\nAt last the long evening was over, the last measure danced, the last\nwine-cup drained, the bride escorted to her chamber, the lights out,\nthe guests separated in their rooms, and Gawayne was free to think of\nwhat he had done, and to consider how he had ruined his whole hope of\nhappiness. He thought of his uncle's favour, of the poor lady's\ngratitude, of the blessing she had invoked upon him, and he determined\nto be gentle with her, though he could never love her as his wife. He\nentered the bride-chamber with the feeling of a man who has made up\nhis mind to endure, and did not even look towards his bride, who sat\nawaiting him beside the fire. Choosing a chair, he sat down and looked\nsadly into the glowing embers and spoke no word.\n\n\"Have you no word for me, husband? Can you not even give me a glance?\"\nasked the lady, and Sir Gawayne turned his eyes to her where she sat;\nand then he sprang up in amazement, for there sat no loathly lady, no\nugly and deformed being, but a maiden young and lovely, with black\neyes and long curls of dark hair, with beautiful face and tall and\ngraceful figure. \"Who are you, maiden?\" asked Sir Gawayne; and the\nfair one replied: \"I am your wife, whom you found between the oak and\nthe holly-tree, and whom you wedded this night.\"\n\n\nSir Gawayne's Choice\n\n\"But how has this marvel come to pass?\" asked he, wondering, for the\nfair maiden was so lovely that he marvelled that he had not known her\nbeauty even under that hideous disguise. \"It is an enchantment to\nwhich I am in bondage,\" said she. \"I am not yet entirely free from it,\nbut now for a time I may appear to you as I really am. Is my lord\ncontent with his loving bride?\" asked she, with a little smile, as she\nrose and stood before him. \"Content!\" he said, as he clasped her in\nhis arms. \"I would not change my dear lady for the fairest dame in\nArthur's court, not though she were Queen Guenever herself. I am the\nhappiest knight that lives, for I thought to save my uncle and help a\nhapless lady, and I have won my own happiness thereby. Truly I shall\nnever rue the day when I wedded you, dear heart.\" Long they sat and\ntalked together, and then Sir Gawayne grew weary, and would fain have\nslept, but his lady said: \"Husband, now a heavy choice awaits you. I\nam under the spell of an evil witch, who has given me my own face and\nform for half the day, and the hideous appearance in which you first\nsaw me for the other half. Choose now whether you will have me fair by\nday and ugly by night, or hideous by day and beauteous by night. The\nchoice is your own.\"\n\n\nThe Dilemma\n\nSir Gawayne was no longer oppressed with sleep; the choice before him\nwas too difficult. If the lady remained hideous by day he would have\nto endure the taunts of his fellows; if by night, he would be unhappy\nhimself. If the lady were fair by day other men might woo her, and he\nhimself would have no love for her; if she were fair to him alone, his\nlove would make her look ridiculous before the court and the king.\nNevertheless, acting on the spur of the moment, he spoke: \"Oh, be fair\nto me only--be your old self by day, and let me have my beauteous wife\nto myself alone.\" \"Alas! is that your choice?\" she asked. \"I only must\nbe ugly when all are beautiful, I must be despised when all other\nladies are admired; I am as fair as they, but I must seem foul to all\nmen. Is this your love, Sir Gawayne?\" and she turned from him and\nwept. Sir Gawayne was filled with pity and remorse when he heard her\nlament, and began to realize that he was studying his own pleasure\nrather than his lady's feelings, and his courtesy and gentleness again\nwon the upper hand. \"Dear love, if you would rather that men should\nsee you fair, I will choose that, though to me you will be always\nas you are now. Be fair before others and deformed to me alone, and\nmen shall never know that the enchantment is not wholly removed.\"\n\n\nSir Gawayne's Decision\n\nNow the lady looked pleased for a moment, and then said gravely: \"Have\nyou thought of the danger to which a young and lovely lady is exposed\nin the court? There are many false knights who would woo a fair dame,\nthough her husband were the king's favourite nephew; and who can\ntell?--one of them might please me more than you. Sure I am that many\nwill be sorry they refused to wed me when they see me to-morrow morn.\nYou must risk my beauty under the guard of my virtue and wisdom, if\nyou have me young and fair.\" She looked merrily at Sir Gawayne as she\nspoke; but he considered seriously for a time, and then said: \"Nay,\ndear love, I will leave the matter to you and your own wisdom, for you\nare wiser in this matter than I. I remit this wholly unto you, to\ndecide according to your will. I will rest content with whatsoever you\nresolve.\"\n\n\nThe Lady's Story\n\nNow the fair lady clapped her hands lightly, and said: \"Blessings on\nyou, dear Gawayne, my own dear lord and husband! Now you have released\nme from the spell completely, and I shall always be as I am now, fair\nand young, till old age shall change my beauty as he doth that of all\nmortals. My father was a great duke of high renown who had but one son\nand one daughter, both of us dearly beloved, and both of goodly\nappearance. When I had come to an age to be married my father\ndetermined to take a new wife, and he wedded a witch-lady. She\nresolved to rid herself of his two children, and cast a spell upon us\nboth, whereby I was transformed from a fair lady into the hideous\nmonster whom you wedded, and my gallant young brother into the\nchurlish giant who dwells at Tarn Wathelan. She condemned me to keep\nthat awful shape until I married a young and courtly knight who would\ngrant me all my will. You have done all this for me, and I shall be\nalways your fond and faithful wife. My brother too is set free from\nthe spell, and he will become again one of the truest and most gentle\nknights alive, though none can excel my own true knight, Sir Gawayne.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Now you have released me from the spell completely\"]\n\n\nThe Surprise of the Knights\n\nThe next morning the knight and his bride descended to the great hall,\nwhere many knights and ladies awaited them, the former thinking\nscornfully of the hideous hag whom Gawayne had wedded, the latter\npitying so young and gallant a knight, tied to a lady so ugly. But\nboth scorn and pity vanished when all saw the bride. \"Who is this fair\ndame?\" asked Sir Kay. \"Where have you left your ancient bride?\" asked\nanother, and all awaited the answer in great bewilderment. \"This is\nthe lady to whom I was wedded yester evening,\" replied Sir Gawayne.\n\"She was under an evil enchantment, which has vanished now that she\nhas come under the power of a husband, and henceforth my fair wife\nwill be one of the most beauteous ladies of King Arthur's court.\nFurther, my lord King Arthur, this fair lady has assured me that the\nchurlish knight of Tarn Wathelan, her brother, was also under a spell,\nwhich is now broken, and he will be once more a courteous and gallant\nknight, and the ground on which his fortress stands will have\nhenceforth no magic power to quell the courage of any knight alive.\nDear liege and uncle, when I wedded yesterday the loathly lady I\nthought only of your happiness, and in that way I have won my own\nlifelong bliss.\"\n\nKing Arthur's joy at his nephew's fair hap was great for he had\ngrieved sorely over Gawayne's miserable fate, and Queen Guenever\nwelcomed the fair maiden as warmly as she had the loathly lady, and\nthe wedding feast was renewed with greater magnificence, as a fitting\nend to the Christmas festivities.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV: KING HORN\n\n\nIntroduction\n\nAmong the hero-legends which are considered to be of native English\ngrowth and to have come down to us from the times of the Danish\ninvasions is the story of King Horn; but although \"King Horn,\" like\n\"Havelok the Dane,\" was originally a story of Viking raids, it has\nbeen so altered that the Norse element has been nearly obliterated. In\nall but the bare circumstances of the tale, \"King Horn\" is a romance\nof chivalry, permeated with the Crusading spirit, and reflecting the\nlife and customs of the thirteenth century, instead of the more\nbarbarous manners of the eighth or ninth centuries. The hero's desire\nto obtain knighthood and do some deed worthy of the honour, the\nreadiness to leave his betrothed for long years at the call of honour\nor duty, the embittered feeling against the Saracens, are all typical\nof the romance of the Crusades. Another curious point which shows a\nlater than Norse influence is the wooing of the reluctant youth by the\nprincess, of which there are many instances in mediaeval literature; it\nreveals a consciousness of feudal rank which did not exist in early\ntimes, and a certain recognition of the privileges of royal birth\nwhich were not granted before the days of romantic chivalry. King Horn\nhimself is a hero of the approved chivalric type, whose chief\ndistinguishing feature is his long indifference to the misfortunes of\nthe sorely-tried princess to whom he was betrothed.\n\n\nThe Royal Family of Suddene\n\nThere once lived and ruled in the pleasant land of Suddene a noble\nking named Murry, whose fair consort, Queen Godhild, was the most\nsweet and gentle lady alive, as the king was a pattern of all\nknightly virtues. This royal pair had but one child, a son, named\nHorn, now twelve years old, who had been surrounded from his birth\nwith loyal service and true devotion. He had a band of twelve chosen\ncompanions with whom he shared sports and tasks, pleasures and griefs,\nand the little company grew up well trained in chivalrous exercises\nand qualities. Childe Horn had his favourites among the twelve. Athulf\nwas his dearest friend, a loving and devoted companion; and next to\nhim in Horn's affection stood Fikenhild, whose outward show of love\ncovered his inward envy and hatred. In everything these two were\nChilde Horn's inseparable comrades, and it seemed that an equal bond\nof love united the three.\n\n\nThe Saracen Invasion\n\nOne day as King Murry was riding over the cliffs by the sea with only\ntwo knights in attendance he noticed some unwonted commotion in a\nlittle creek not far from where he was riding, and he at once turned\nhis horse's head in that direction and galloped down to the shore. On\nhis arrival in the small harbour he saw fifteen great ships of strange\nbuild, and their crews, Saracens all armed for war, had already\nlanded, and were drawn up in warlike array. The odds against the king\nwere terrible, but he rode boldly to the invaders and asked: \"What\nbrings you strangers here? Why have you sought our land?\" A Saracen\nleader, gigantic of stature, spoke for them all and replied: \"We are\nhere to win this land to the law of Mahomet and to drive out the\nChristian law. We will slay all the inhabitants that believe on\nChrist. Thou thyself shalt be our first conquest, for thou shalt not\nleave this place alive.\" Thereupon the Saracens attacked the little\nband, and though the three Christians fought valiantly they were soon\nslain. The Saracens then spread over the land, slaying, burning, and\npillaging, and forcing all who loved their lives to renounce the\nChristian faith and become followers of Mahomet. When Queen Godhild\nheard of her husband's death and saw the ruin of her people she fled\nfrom her palace and all her friends and betook herself to a solitary\ncave, where she lived unknown and undiscovered, and continued her\nChristian worship while the land was overrun with pagans. Ever she\nprayed that God would protect her dear son, and bring him at last to\nhis father's throne.\n\n[Illustration: Queen Godhild prays ever for her son Horn]\n\n\nHorn's Escape\n\nSoon after the king's death the Saracens had captured Childe Horn and\nhis twelve comrades, and the boys were brought before the pagan emir.\nThey would all have been slain at once or flayed alive, but for the\nbeauty of Childe Horn, for whose sake their lives were spared. The old\nemir looked keenly at the lads, and said: \"Horn, thou art a bold and\nvaliant youth, of great stature for thine age, and of full strength,\nyet I know thou hast not yet reached thy full growth. If we release\nthee with thy companions, in years to come we shall dearly rue it, for\nye will become great champions of the Christian law and will slay many\nof us. Therefore ye must die. But we will not slay you with our own\nhands, for ye are noble lads, and shall have one feeble chance for\nyour lives. Ye shall be placed in a boat and driven out to sea, and if\nye all are drowned we shall not grieve overmuch. Either ye must die or\nwe, for I know we shall dearly abide your king's death if ye youths\nsurvive.\" Thereupon the lads were all taken to the shore, and, weeping\nand lamenting, were thrust into a rudderless boat, which was towed\nout to sea and left helpless.\n\n\nArrival in Westernesse\n\nThe other boys sat lamenting and bewailing their fate, but Childe\nHorn, looking round the boat, found a pair of oars, and as he saw that\nthe boat was in the grasp of some strong current he rowed in the same\ndirection, so that the boat soon drifted out of sight of land. The\nother lads were a dismal crew, for they thought their death was\ncertain, but Horn toiled hard at his rowing all night, and with the\ndawn grew so weary that he rested for a little on his oars. When the\nrising sun made things clear, and he could see over the crests of the\nwaves, he stood up in the boat and uttered a cry of joy. \"Comrades,\"\ncried he, \"dear friends, I see land not far away. I hear the sweet\nsongs of birds and see the soft green grass. We have come to some\nunknown land and have saved our lives.\" Then Athulf took up the glad\ntidings and began to cheer the forlorn little crew, and under Horn's\nskilful guidance the little boat grounded gently and safely on the\nsands of Westernesse. The boys sprang on shore, all but Childe Horn\nhaving no thought of the past night and the journey; but he stood by\nthe boat, looking sadly at it.\n\n\nFarewell to the Boat\n\n \"'Boat,' quoth he, 'which hast borne me on my way,\n Have thou good days beside a summer sea!\n May never wave prevail to sink thee deep!\n Go, little boat, and when thou comest home\n Greet well my mother, mournful Queen Godhild;\n Tell her, frail skiff, her dear son Horn is safe.\n Greet, too, the pagan lord, Mahomet's thrall,\n The bitter enemy of Jesus Christ,\n And bid him know that I am safe and well.\n Say I have reached a land beyond the sea,\n Whence, in God's own good time, I will return\n Then he shall feel my vengeance for my sire.'\"\n\nThen sorrowfully he pushed the boat out into the ocean, and the ebbing\ntide bore it away, while Horn and his companions set their faces\nresolutely towards the town they could see in the distance.\n\n\nKing Ailmar and Childe Horn\n\nAs the little band were trudging wearily towards the town they saw a\nknight riding towards them, and when he came nearer they became aware\nthat he must be some noble of high rank. When he halted and began to\nquestion them, Childe Horn recognised by his tone and bearing that\nthis must be the king. So indeed it was, for King Ailmar of\nWesternesse was one of those noble rulers who see for themselves the\nstate of their subjects and make their people happy by free,\nunrestrained intercourse with them. When the king saw the forlorn\nlittle company he said: \"Whence are ye, fair youths, so strong and\ncomely of body? Never have I seen so goodly a company of thirteen\nyouths in the realm of Westernesse. Tell me whence ye come, and what\nye seek.\" Childe Horn assumed the office of spokesman, for he was\nleader by birth, by courage, and by intellect. \"We are lads of noble\nfamilies in Suddene, sons of Christians and of men of lofty station.\nPagans have taken the land and slain our parents, and we boys fell\ninto their hands. These heathen have slain and tortured many Christian\nmen, but they had pity upon us, and put us into an old boat with no\nsail or rudder. So we drifted all night, until I saw your land at\ndawn, and our boat came to the shore. Now we are in your power, and\nyou may do with us what you will, but I pray you to have pity on us\nand to feed us, that we may not perish utterly.\"\n\n\nAilmar's Decision\n\nKing Ailmar was touched as greatly by the simple boldness of the\nspokesman as by the hapless plight of the little troop, and he\nanswered, smiling: \"Thou shalt have nought but help and comfort, fair\nyouth. But, I pray thee, tell me thy name.\" Horn answered readily:\n\"King, may all good betide thee! I am named Horn, and I have come\njourneying in a boat on the sea--now I am here in thy land.\" King\nAilmar replied: \"Horn! That is a good name: mayst thou well enjoy it.\nLoud may this Horn sound over hill and dale till the blast of so\nmighty a Horn shall be heard in many lands from king to king, and its\nbeauty and strength be known in many countries. Horn, come thou with\nme and be mine, for I love thee and will not forsake thee.\"\n\n\nChilde Horn at Court\n\nThe king rode home, and all the band of stranger youths followed him\non foot, but for Horn he ordered a horse to be procured, so that the\nlad rode by his side; and thus they came back to the court. When they\nentered the hall he summoned his steward, a noble old knight named\nAthelbrus, and gave the lads in charge to him, saying, \"Steward, take\nthese foundlings of mine, and train them well in the duties of pages,\nand later of squires. Take especial care with the training of Childe\nHorn, their chief; let him learn all thy knowledge of woodcraft and\nfishing, of hunting and hawking, of harping and singing; teach him how\nto carve before me, and to serve the cup solemnly at banquets; make\nhim thy favourite pupil and train him to be a knight as good as\nthyself. His companions thou mayst put into other service, but Horn\nshall be my own page, and afterwards my squire.\" Athelbrus obeyed the\nking's command, and the thirteen youths soon found themselves set to\nlearn the duties of court life, and showed themselves apt scholars,\nespecially Childe Horn, who did his best to satisfy the king and his\nsteward on every point.\n\n\nThe Princess Rymenhild\n\nWhen Childe Horn had been at court for six years, and was now a\nsquire, he became known to all courtiers, and all men loved him for\nhis gentle courtesy and his willingness to do any service. King Ailmar\nmade no secret of the fact that Horn was his favourite squire, and the\nPrincess Rymenhild, the king's fair daughter, loved him with all her\nheart. She was the heir to the throne, and no man had ever gainsaid\nher will, and now it seemed to her unreasonable that she should not be\nallowed to wed a good and gallant youth whom she loved. It was\ndifficult for her to speak alone with him, for she had six maiden\nattendants who waited on her continually, and Horn was engaged with\nhis duties either in the hall, among the knights, or waiting on the\nking. The difficulties only seemed to increase her love, and she grew\npale and wan, and looked miserable. It seemed to her that if she\nwaited longer her love would never be happy, and in her impatience she\ntook a bold step.\n\n\nAthelbrus Deceives the Princess\n\nShe kept her chamber, called a messenger, and said to him: \"Go quickly\nto Athelbrus the steward, and bid him come to me at once. Tell him to\nbring with him the squire Childe Horn, for I am lying ill in my room,\nand would be amused. Say I expect them quickly, for I am sad in mind,\nand have need of cheerful converse.\" The messenger bowed, and,\nwithdrawing, delivered the message exactly as he had received it to\nAthelbrus, who was much perplexed thereby. He wondered whence came\nthis sudden illness, and what help Childe Horn could give. It was an\nunusual thing for the squire to be asked into a lady's bower, and\nstill more so into that of a princess, and Athelbrus had already felt\nsome suspicion as to the sentiments of the royal lady towards the\ngallant young squire. Considering all these things, the cautious\nsteward deemed it safer not to expose young Horn to the risks that\nmight arise from such an interview, and therefore induced Athulf to\nwait upon the princess and to endeavour to personate his more\ndistinguished companion. The plan succeeded beyond expectation in the\ndimly lighted room, and the infatuated princess soon startled the\nunsuspecting squire by a warm and unreserved declaration of her\naffection. Recovering from his natural amazement, he modestly\ndisclaimed a title to the royal favour and acknowledged his identity.\n\nOn discovering her mistake the princess was torn by conflicting\nemotions, but finally relieved the pressure of self-reproach and the\nconfusion of maiden modesty by overwhelming the faithful steward with\ndenunciation and upbraiding, until at last, in desperation, the poor\nman promised, against his better judgment, to bring about a meeting\nbetween his love-lorn mistress and the favoured squire.\n\n\nAthelbrus Summons Horn\n\nWhen Rymenhild understood that Athelbrus would fulfil her desire she\nwas very glad and joyous; her sorrow was turned into happy\nexpectation, and she looked kindly upon the old steward as she said:\n\"Go now quickly, and send him to me in the afternoon. The king will\ngo to the wood for sport and pastime, and Horn can easily remain\nbehind; then he can stay with me till my father returns at eve. No one\nwill betray us; and when I have met my beloved I care not what men may\nsay.\"\n\nThen the steward went down to the banqueting-hall, where he found\nChilde Horn fulfilling his duties as cup-bearer, pouring out and\ntasting the red wine in the king's golden goblet. King Ailmar asked\nmany questions about his daughter's health, and when he learnt that\nher malady was much abated he rose in gladness from the table and\nsummoned his courtiers to go with him into the greenwood. Athelbrus\nbade Horn tarry, and when the gay throng had passed from the hall the\nsteward said gravely: \"Childe Horn, fair and courteous, my beloved\npupil, go now to the bower of the Princess Rymenhild, and stay there\nto fulfil all her commands. It may be thou shalt hear strange things,\nbut keep rash and bold words in thy heart, and let them not be upon\nthy tongue. Horn, dear lad, be true and loyal now, and thou shalt\nnever repent it.\"\n\n\nHorn and Rymenhild\n\nHorn listened to this unusual speech with great astonishment, but,\nsince Sir Athelbrus spoke so solemnly, he laid all his words to heart,\nand thus, marvelling greatly, departed to the royal bower. When he had\nknocked at the door, and had been bidden to come in, entering, he\nfound Rymenhild sitting in a great chair, intently regarding him as he\ncame into the room. He knelt down to make obeisance to her, and kissed\nher hand, saying, \"Sweet be thy life and soft thy slumbers, fair\nPrincess Rymenhild! Well may it be with thy gentle ladies of honour! I\nam here at thy command, lady, for Sir Athelbrus the steward, bade me\ncome to speak with thee. Tell me thy will, and I will fulfil all thy\ndesires.\" She arose from her seat, and, bending towards him as he\nknelt, took him by the hand and lifted him up, saying, \"Arise and sit\nbeside me, Childe Horn, and we will drink this cup of wine together.\"\nIn great astonishment the youth did as the princess bade, and sat\nbeside her, and soon, to his utter amazement, Rymenhild avowed her\nlove for him, and offered him her hand. \"Have pity on me, Horn, and\nplight me thy troth, for in very truth I love thee, and have loved\nthee long, and if thou wilt I will be thy wife.\"\n\n\nHorn Refuses the Princess\n\nNow Horn was in evil case, for he saw full well in what danger he\nwould place the princess, Sir Athelbrus, and himself if he accepted\nthe proffer of her love. He knew the reason of the steward's warning,\nand tried to think what he might say to satisfy the princess and yet\nnot be disloyal to the king. At last he replied: \"Christ save and keep\nthee, my lady Rymenhild, and give thee joy of thy husband, whosoever\nhe may be! I am too lowly born to be worthy of such a wife; I am a\nmere foundling, living on thy father's bounty. It is not in the course\nof nature that such as I should wed a king's daughter, for there can\nbe no equal match between a princess and a landless squire.\"\n\nRymenhild was so disheartened and ashamed at this reply to her loving\nappeal that her colour changed, she turned deadly pale, began to sigh,\nflung her arms out wildly, and fell down in a swoon. Childe Horn\nlifted her up, full of pity for her deep distress, and began to\ncomfort her and try to revive her. As he held her in his arms he\nkissed her often, and said:\n\n \"'Lady, dear love, take comfort and be strong!\n For I will yield me wholly to thy guidance\n If thou wilt compass one great thing for me.\n Plead with King Ailmar that he dub me knight,\n That I may prove me worthy of thy love.\n Soon shall my knighthood be no idle dream,\n And I will strive to do thy will, dear heart.'\"\n\nNow at these words Rymenhild awoke from her swoon, and made him repeat\nhis promise. She said: \"Ah! Horn, that shall speedily be done. Ere the\nweek is past thou shalt be Sir Horn, for my father loves thee, and\nwill grant the dignity most willingly to one so dear to him. Go now\nquickly to Sir Athelbrus, give him as a token of my gratitude this\ngolden goblet and this ring; pray him that he persuade the king to dub\nthee knight. I will repay him with rich rewards for his gentle\ncourtesy to me. May Christ help him to speed thee in thy desires!\"\nHorn then took leave of Rymenhild with great affection, and found\nAthelbrus, to whom he delivered the gifts and the princess's message,\nwhich the steward received with due reverence.\n\n\nHorn Becomes a Knight\n\nThis plan seemed to Athelbrus very good, for it raised Horn to be a\nmember of the noble Order of Knights, and would give him other chances\nof distinguishing himself. Accordingly he went to the king as he sat\nover the evening meal, and spoke thus: \"Sir King, hear my words, for I\nhave counsel for thee. To-morrow is the festival of thy birth, and the\nwhole realm of Westernesse must rejoice in its master's joy. Wear thou\nthy crown in solemn state, and I think it were nought amiss if thou\nshouldst knight young Horn, who will become a worthy defender of thy\nthrone.\" \"That were well done,\" said King Ailmar. \"The youth pleases\nme, and I will knight him with my own sword. Afterwards he shall\nknight his twelve comrades the same day.\"\n\nThe next day the ceremony of knighting was performed with all\nsolemnity, and at its close a great banquet was prepared and all men\nmade merry. But Princess Rymenhild was somewhat sad. She could not\ndescend to the hall and take her customary place, for this was a feast\nfor knights alone, and she would not be without her betrothed one\nmoment longer, so she sent a messenger to fetch Sir Horn to her bower.\n\n\nHorn and Athulf Go to Rymenhild\n\nNow that Horn was a newly dubbed knight he would not allow the\nslightest shadow of dishonour to cloud his conduct; accordingly, when\nhe obeyed Rymenhild's summons he was accompanied by Athulf. \"Welcome,\nSir Horn and Sir Athulf,\" she cried, holding out her hands in\ngreeting. \"Love, now that thou hast thy will, keep thy plighted word\nand make me thy wife; release me from my anxiety and do as thou hast\nsaid.\"\n\n \"'Dear Rymenhild, hold thou thyself at peace,'\n Quoth young Sir Horn; 'I will perform my vow.\n But first I must ride forth to prove my might;\n Must conquer hardships, and my own worse self,\n Ere I can hope to woo and wed my bride.\n We are but new-fledged knights of one day's growth,\n And yet we know the custom of our state\n Is first to fight and win a hero's name,\n Then afterwards to win a lady's heart.\n This day will I do bravely for thy love\n And show my valour and my deep devotion\n In prowess 'gainst the foes of this thy land.\n If I come back in peace, I claim my wife.'\"\n\nRymenhild protested no longer, for she saw that where honour was\nconcerned Horn was inflexible. \"My true knight,\" said she, \"I must in\nsooth believe thee, and I feel that I may. Take this ring engraved\nwith my name, wrought by the most skilled worker of our court, and\nwear it always, for it has magic virtues. The gems are of such saving\npower that thou shalt fear no strokes in battle, nor ever be cast down\nif thou gaze on this ring and think of thy love. Athulf, too, shall\nhave a similar ring. And now, Horn, I commend thee to God, and may\nChrist give thee good success and bring thee back in safety!\"\n\n\nHorn's First Exploit\n\nAfter taking an affectionate farewell of Rymenhild, Horn went down to\nthe hall, and, seeing all the other new-made knights going in to the\nbanquet, he slipped quietly away and betook himself to the stables.\nThere he armed himself secretly and mounted his white charger, which\npranced and reared joyfully as he rode away; and Horn began to sing\nfor joy of heart, for he had won his chief desire, and was happy in\nthe love of the king's daughter. As he rode by the shore he saw a\nstranger ship drawn up on the beach, and recognised the banner and\naccoutrements of her Saracen crew, for he had never forgotten the\nheathens who had slain his father. \"What brings you here?\" he asked\nangrily, and as fearlessly as King Murry had done, and received the\nsame answer: \"We will conquer this land and slay the inhabitants.\"\nThen Horn's anger rose, he gripped his sword, and rushed boldly at the\nheathens, and slew many of them, striking off a head at each blow. The\nonslaught was so sudden that the Saracens were taken by surprise at\nfirst, but then they rallied and surrounded Horn, so that matters\nbegan to look dangerous for him. Then he remembered the betrothal\nring, and looked on it, thinking earnestly of Rymenhild, his dear\nlove, and such courage came to him that he was able to defeat the\npagans and slay their leader. The others, sorely wounded--for none\nescaped unhurt--hurried on board ship and put to sea, and Horn,\nbearing the Saracen leader's head on his sword's point, rode back to\nthe royal palace. Here he related to King Ailmar this first exploit of\nhis knighthood, and presented the head of the foe to the king, who\nrejoiced greatly at Horn's valour and success.\n\n[Illustration: Horn kills the Saracen leader]\n\n\nRymenhild's Dream\n\nThe next day the king and all the court rode out hunting, but Horn\nmade an excuse to stay behind with the princess, and the false and\nwily Fikenhild was also left at home, and he crept secretly to\nRymenhild's bower to spy on her. She was sitting weeping bitterly when\nSir Horn entered. He was amazed. \"Love, for mercy's sake, why weepest\nthou so sorely?\" he asked; and she replied: \"I have had a mournful\ndream. I dreamt that I was casting a net and had caught a great fish,\nwhich began to burst the net. I greatly fear that I shall lose my\nchosen fish.\" Then she looked sadly at Horn. But the young knight was\nin a cheery mood, and replied: \"May Christ and St. Stephen turn thy\ndream to good! If I am thy fish, I will never deceive thee nor do\naught to displease thee, and hereto I plight thee my troth. But I\nwould rather interpret thy dream otherwise. This great fish which\nburst thy net is some one who wishes us ill, and will do us harm\nsoon.\" Yet in spite of Horn's brave words it was a sad betrothal, for\nRymenhild wept bitterly, and her lover could not stop her tears.\n\n\nFikenhild's False Accusation\n\nFikenhild had listened to all their conversation with growing envy\nand anger, and now he stole away silently, and met King Ailmar\nreturning from the chase.\n\n \"'King Ailmar,' said the false one, 'see, I bring\n A needed warning, that thou guard thyself,\n For Horn will take thy life; I heard him vow\n To slay thee, or by sword or fire, this night.\n If thou demand what cause of hate he has,\n Know that the villain wooes thine only child,\n Fair Rymenhild, and hopes to wear thy crown.\n E'en now he tarries in the maiden's bower,\n As he has often done, and talks with her\n With guileful tongue, and cunning show of love.\n Unless thou banish him thou art not safe\n In life or honour, for he knows no law.'\"\n\nThe king at first refused to believe the envious knight's report, but,\ngoing to Rymenhild's bower, he found apparent confirmation, for Horn\nwas comforting the princess, and promising to wed her when he should\nhave done worthy feats of arms. The king's wrath knew no bounds, and\nwith words of harsh reproach he banished Horn at once, on pain of\ndeath. The young knight armed himself quickly and returned to bid\nfarewell to his betrothed.\n\n\nHorn's Banishment\n\n\"Dear heart,\" said he, \"now thy dream has come true, and thy fish must\nneeds break the net and be gone. The enemy whom I foreboded has\nwrought us woe. Farewell, mine own dear Rymenhild; I may no longer\nstay, but must wander in alien lands. If I do not return at the end of\nseven years take thyself a husband and tarry no longer for me. And now\ntake me in your arms and kiss me, dear love, ere I go!\" So they kissed\neach other and bade farewell, and Horn called to him his comrade\nAthulf, saying, \"True and faithful friend, guard well my dear love.\nThou hast never forsaken me; now do thou keep Rymenhild for me.\" Then\nhe rode away, and, reaching the haven, hired a good ship and sailed\nfor Ireland, where he took service with King Thurston, under the name\nof Cuthbert. In Ireland he became sworn brother to the king's two\nsons, Harold and Berild, for they loved him from the first moment they\nsaw him, and were in no way jealous of his beauty and valour.\n\n\nHorn Slays the Giant Emir\n\nWhen Christmas came, and King Thurston sat at the banquet with all his\nlords, at noontide a giant strode into the hall, bearing a message of\ndefiance. He came from the Saracens, and challenged any three Irish\nknights to fight one Saracen champion. If the Irish won the pagans\nwould withdraw from Ireland; if the Irish chiefs were slain the\nSaracens would hold the land. The combat was to be decided the next\nday at dawn. King Thurston accepted the challenge, and named Harold,\nBerild, and Cuthbert (as Horn was called) as the Christian champions,\nbecause they were the best warriors in Ireland; but Horn begged\npermission to speak, and said: \"Sir King, it is not right that one man\nshould fight against three, and one heathen hound think to resist\nthree Christian warriors. I will fight and conquer him alone, for I\ncould as easily slay three of them.\" At last the king allowed Horn to\nattempt the combat alone, and spent the night in sorrowful musing on\nthe result of the contest, while Horn slept well and arose and armed\nhimself cheerily. He then aroused the king, and the Irish troop rode\nout to a fair and level green lawn, where they found the emir with\nmany companions awaiting them. The combat began at once, and Horn gave\nblows so mighty that the pagan onlookers fell swooning through very\nfear, till Horn said: \"Now, knights, rest for a time, if it pleases\nyou.\" Then the Saracens spoke together, saying aloud that no man had\never so daunted them before except King Murry of Suddene.\n\nThis mention of his dead father aroused Horn, who now realized that he\nsaw before him his father's murderers. His anger was kindled, he\nlooked at his ring and thought of Rymenhild, and then, drawing his\nsword again, he rushed at the heathen champion. The giant fell pierced\nthrough the heart, and his companions fled to their ships, hotly\npursued by Horn and his company. Much fighting there was, and in the\nhot strife near the ships the king's two sons, Harold and Berild, were\nboth slain.\n\n\nHorn Refuses the Throne\n\nSadly they were laid on a bier and brought back to the palace, their\nsorrowful father lamenting their early death; and when he had wept his\nfill the mournful king came into the hall where all his knights\nsilently awaited him. Slowly he came up to Horn as he sat a little\napart from the rest, and said: \"Cuthbert, wilt thou fulfil my desire?\nMy heirs are slain, and thou art the best knight in Ireland for\nstrength and beauty and valour; I implore thee to wed Reynild, my only\ndaughter (now, alas! my only child), and to rule my realm. Wilt thou\ndo so, and lift the burden of my cares from my weary shoulders?\" But\nHorn replied: \"O Sir King, it were wrong for me to receive thy fair\ndaughter and heir and rule thy realm, as thou dost offer. I shall do\nthee yet better service, my liege, before I die; and I know that thy\ngrief will change ere seven years have passed away. When that time is\nover, Sir King, give me my reward: thou shalt not refuse me thy\ndaughter when I desire her.\" To this King Thurston agreed, and Horn\ndwelt in Ireland for seven years, and sent no word or token to\nRymenhild all the time.\n\n\nRymenhild's Distress\n\nIn the meantime Princess Rymenhild was in great perplexity and\ntrouble, for a powerful ruler, King Modi of Reynes, wooed her for his\nwife, and her own betrothed sent her no token of his life or love. Her\nfather accepted the new suitor for her hand, and the day of the\nwedding was fixed, so that Rymenhild could no longer delay her\nmarriage. In her extremity she besought Athulf to write letters to\nHorn, begging him to return and claim his bride and protect her; and\nthese letters she delivered to several messengers, bidding them search\nin all lands until they found Sir Horn and gave the letters into his\nown hand. Horn knew nought of this, till one day in the forest he met\na weary youth, all but exhausted, who told how he had sought Horn in\nvain. When Horn declared himself, the youth broke out into loud\nlamentations over Rymenhild's unhappy fate, and delivered the letter\nwhich explained all her distress. Now it was Horn's turn to weep\nbitterly for his love's troubles, and he bade the messenger return to\nhis mistress and tell her to cease her tears, for Horn would be there\nin time to rescue her from her hated bridegroom. The youth returned\njoyfully, but as his boat neared the shore of Westernesse a storm\narose and the messenger was drowned; so that Rymenhild, opening her\ntower door to look for expected succour, found her messenger lying\ndead at the foot of the tower, and felt that all hope was gone. She\nwept and wrung her hands, but nothing that she could do would avert\nthe evil day.\n\n\nHorn and King Thurston\n\nAs soon as Horn had read Rymenhild's letter he went to King Thurston\nand revealed the whole matter to him. He told of his own royal\nparentage, his exile, his knighthood, his betrothal to the princess,\nand his banishment; then of the death of the Saracen leader who had\nslain King Murry, and the vengeance he had taken. Then he ended:\n\n \"'King Thurston, be thou wise, and grant my boon;\n Repay the service I have yielded thee;\n Help me to save my princess from this woe.\n I will take counsel for fair Reynild's fate,\n For she shall wed Sir Athulf, my best friend,\n My truest comrade and my doughtiest knight.\n If ever I have risked my life for thee\n And proved myself in battle, grant my prayer.'\"\n\nTo this the king replied: \"Childe Horn, do what thou wilt.\"\n\n\nHorn Returns on the Wedding-day\n\nHorn at once invited Irish knights to accompany him to Westernesse to\nrescue his love from a hateful marriage, and many came eagerly to\nfight in the cause of the valiant Cuthbert who had defended Ireland\nfor seven years. Thus it was with a goodly company that Horn took\nship, and landed in King Ailmar's realm; and he came in a happy hour,\nfor it was the wedding-day of Princess Rymenhild and King Modi of\nReynes. The Irish knights landed and encamped in a wood, while Horn\nwent on alone to learn tidings. Meeting a palmer, he asked the news,\nand the palmer replied: \"I have been at the wedding of Princess\nRymenhild, and a sad sight it was, for the bride was wedded against\nher will, vowing she had a husband though he is a banished man. She\nwould take no ring nor utter any vows; but the service was read, and\nafterwards King Modi took her to a strong castle, where not even a\npalmer was given entrance. I came away, for I could not endure the\npity of it. The bride sits weeping sorely, and if report be true her\nheart is like to break with grief.\"\n\n\nHorn Is Disguised as a Palmer\n\n\"Come, palmer,\" said Horn, \"lend me your cloak and scrip. I must see\nthis strange bridal, and it may be I shall make some there repent of\nthe wrong they have done to a helpless maiden. I will essay to enter.\"\nThe change was soon made, and Horn darkened his face and hands as if\nbronzed with Eastern suns, bowed his back, and gave his voice an old\nman's feebleness, so that no man would have known him; which done, he\nmade his way to King Modi's new castle. Here he begged admittance for\ncharity's sake, that he might share the broken bits of the wedding\nfeast; but he was churlishly refused by the porter, who would not be\nmoved by any entreaties. At last Horn lost all patience, and broke\nopen the door, and threw the porter out over the drawbridge into the\nmoat; then, once more assuming his disguise, he made his way into the\nhall and sat down in the beggars' row.\n\n\nThe Recognition\n\nRymenhild was weeping still, and her stern husband seemed only angered\nby her tears. Horn looked about cautiously, but saw no sign of Athulf,\nhis trusted comrade; for he was at this time eagerly looking for his\nfriend's coming from the lofty watch-tower, and lamenting that he\ncould guard the princess no longer. At last, when the banquet was\nnearly over, Rymenhild rose to pour out wine for the guests, as the\ncustom was then; and she bore a horn of ale or wine along the benches\nto each person there. Horn, sitting humbly on the ground, called out:\n\"Come, courteous Queen, turn to me, for we beggars are thirsty folk.\"\nRymenhild smiled sadly, and, setting down the horn, filled a bowl with\nbrown ale, for she thought him a drunkard. \"Here, drink this, and more\nbesides, if thou wilt; I never saw so bold a beggar,\" she said. But\nHorn refused. He handed the bowl to the other beggars, and said:\n\"Lady, I will drink nought but from a silver cup, for I am not what\nyou think me. I am no beggar, but a fisher, come from afar to fish at\nthy wedding feast. My net lies near by, and has lain there for seven\nyears, and I am come to see if it has caught any fish. Drink to me,\nand drink to Horn from thy horn, for far have I journeyed.\"\n\nWhen the palmer spoke of fishing, and his seven-year-old net,\nRymenhild felt cold at heart; she did not recognise him, but wondered\ngreatly when he bade her drink \"to Horn.\" She filled her cup and gave\nit to the palmer, saying, \"Drink thy fill, and then tell me if thou\nhast ever seen Horn in thy wanderings.\" As the palmer drank, he\ndropped his ring into the cup; then he returned it to Rymenhild,\nsaying, \"Queen, seek out what is in thy draught.\" She said nothing\nthen, but left the hall with her maidens and went to her bower, where\nshe found the well-remembered ring she had given to Horn in token of\nbetrothal. Greatly she feared that Horn was dead, and sent for the\npalmer, whom she questioned as to whence he had got the ring.\n\n\nHorn's Stratagem\n\nHorn thought he would test her love for him, since she had not\nrecognised him, so he replied: \"By St. Giles, lady, I have wandered\nmany a mile, far into realms of the West, and there I found Sir Horn\nready prepared to sail home to your land. He told me that he planned\nto reach the realm of Westernesse in time to see you before seven\nyears had passed, and I embarked with him. The winds were favourable\nand we had a quick voyage, but, alas! he fell ill and died. When he\nlay dying he begged me piteously, 'Take this ring, from which I have\nnever been parted, to my dear lady Rymenhild,' and he kissed it many\ntimes and pressed it to his breast. May God give his soul rest in\nParadise!\"\n\nWhen Rymenhild heard those terrible tidings she sighed deeply and\nsaid: \"O heart, burst now, for thou shalt never more have Horn, for\nlove of whom thou hast been tormented so sorely!\" Then she fell upon\nher bed, and grasped the dagger which she had concealed there; for if\nHorn did not come in time she had planned to slay both her hateful\nlord and herself that very night. Now, in her misery, she set the\ndagger to her heart, and would have slain herself at once, had not the\npalmer interrupted her. Rushing forward, he exclaimed: \"Dear Queen and\nlady, I am Horn, thine own true love. Dost thou not recognise me? I am\nChilde Horn of Westernesse. Take me in thy arms, dear love, and kiss\nme welcome home.\" As Rymenhild stared incredulously at him, letting\nthe dagger fall from her trembling hand, he hurriedly cast away his\ndisguise, brushed off the disfiguring stain he had put on his cheeks,\nand stood up straight and strong, her own noble knight and lover. What\njoy they had together! How they told each other of all their\nadventures and troubles, and how they embraced and kissed each other!\n\n\nHorn Slays King Modi\n\nWhen their joy had become calmer, Horn said to his lady: \"Dear\nRymenhild, I must leave thee now, and return to my knights, who are\nencamped in the forest. Within an hour I will return to the feast and\ngive the king and his guests a stern lesson.\" Then he flung away the\npalmer's cloak, and went forth in knightly array; while the princess\nwent up to the watch-tower, where Athulf still scanned the sea for\nsome sign of Horn's coming. Rymenhild said: \"Sir Athulf, true friend,\ngo quickly to Horn, for he has arrived, and with him he brings a great\narmy.\" The knight gladly hastened to the courtyard, mounted his steed,\nand soon overtook Horn. They were greatly rejoiced to meet again, and\nhad much to tell each other and to plan for that day's work.\n\nIn the evening Horn and his army reached the castle, where they found\nthe gates undone for them by their friends within, and in a short but\ndesperate conflict King Modi and all the guests at the banquet were\nslain, except Rymenhild, her father, and Horn's twelve comrades. Then\na new wedding was celebrated, for King Ailmar durst not refuse his\ndaughter to the victor, and the bridal was now one of real rejoicing,\nthough the king was somewhat bitter of mood.\n\n\nHorn's Departure\n\nWhen the hours wore on to midnight, Horn, sitting beside his bride,\ncalled for silence in the hall, and addressed the king thus: \"Sir\nKing, I pray thee listen to my tale, for I have much to say and much\nto explain. My name is in sooth Horn, and I am the son of King Murry\nof Suddene, who was slain by the Saracens. Thou didst cherish me and\ngive me knighthood, and I proved myself a true knight on the very day\nwhen I was dubbed. Thou didst love me then, but evil men accused me to\nthee and I was banished. For seven years I have lived in a strange\nland; but now that I have returned, I have won thy fair daughter as\nmy bride. But I cannot dwell here in idleness while the heathen hold\nmy father's land. I vow by the Holy Rood that I will not rest, and\nwill not claim my wife, until I have purified Suddene from the infidel\ninvaders, and can lay its crown at Rymenhild's feet. Do thou, O King,\nguard well my wife till my return.\"\n\nThe king consented to this proposal, and, in spite of Rymenhild's\ngrief, Horn immediately bade her farewell, and with his whole army\nembarked for Suddene, this time accompanied by Athulf, but leaving the\nrest of his comrades for the protection of his wife.\n\n\nThe Apostate Knight\n\nThe wind blew fair for Suddene, and the fleet reached the port. The\nwarriors disembarked, and marched inland, to encamp for the night in a\nwood, where they could be hidden. Horn and Athulf set out at midnight\nto endeavour to obtain news of the foe, and soon found a solitary\nknight sleeping. They awoke him roughly, saying, \"Knight, awake! Why\nsleepest thou here? What dost thou guard?\" The knight sprang lightly\nfrom the ground, saw their faces and the shining crosses on their\nshields, and cast down his eyes in shame, saying, \"Alas! I have served\nthese pagans against my will. In time gone by I was a Christian, but\nnow I am a coward renegade, who forsook his God for fear of death at\nthe hands of the Saracens! I hate my infidel masters, but I fear them\ntoo, and they have forced me to guard this district and keep watch\nagainst Horn's return. If he should come to his own again how glad I\nshould be! These infidels slew his father, and drove him into exile,\nwith his twelve comrades, among whom was my own son, Athulf, who loved\nthe prince as his own life. If the prince is yet alive, and my son\nalso, God grant that I may see them both again! Then would I joyfully\ndie.\"\n\n\nThe Recognition\n\nHorn answered quickly: \"Sir Knight, be glad and rejoice, for here are\nwe, Horn and Athulf, come to avenge my father and retake my realm from\nthe heathen.\" Athulf's father was overcome with joy and shame; he\nhardly dared to embrace his son, yet the bliss of meeting was so great\nthat he clasped Athulf in his arms and prayed his forgiveness for the\ndisgrace he had brought upon him. The two young knights said nothing\nof his past weakness, but told him all their own adventures, and at\nlast he said: \"What is your true errand hither? Can you two alone slay\nthe heathen? Dear Childe Horn, what joy this will be to thy mother\nGodhild, who still lives in a solitary retreat, praying for thee and\nfor the land!\" Horn broke in on his speech with \"Blessed be the hour\nwhen I returned! Thank God that my mother yet lives! We are not alone,\nbut I have an army of valiant Irish warriors, who will help me to\nregain my realm.\"\n\n\nThe Reconquest of Suddene\n\nNow the king blew his horn, and his host marched out from the wood and\nprepared to attack the Saracens. The news soon spread that Childe Horn\nhad returned, and many men who had accepted the faith of Mahomet for\nfear of death now threw off the hated religion, joined the true king's\narmy, and were rebaptized. The war was not long, for the Saracens had\nmade themselves universally hated, and the inhabitants rose against\nthem; so that in a short time the country was purged of the infidels,\nwho were slain or fled to other lands. Then Horn brought his mother\nfrom her retreat, and together they purified the churches which had\nbeen desecrated, and restored the true faith. When the land of Suddene\nwas again a Christian realm King Horn was crowned with solemn rites,\nand a great coronation feast was held, which lasted too long for\nHorn's true happiness.\n\n\nFikenhild Imprisons Rymenhild\n\nDuring Horn's absence from Westernesse, his comrades watched carefully\nover Rymenhild; but her father, who was growing old, had fallen much\nunder the influence of the plausible Fikenhild. From the day when\nFikenhild had falsely accused Horn to the king, Ailmar had held him in\nhonour as a loyal servant, and now he had such power over the old\nruler that when he demanded Rymenhild's hand in marriage, saying that\nHorn was dead in Suddene, the king dared not refuse, and the princess\nwas bidden to make ready for a new bridal. For this day Fikenhild had\nlong been prepared; he had built a massive fortress on a promontory,\nwhich at high tide was surrounded by the sea, but was easy of access\nat the ebb; thither he now led the weeping princess, and began a\nwedding feast which was to last all day, and to end only with the\nmarriage ceremony at night.\n\n\nHorn's Dream\n\nThat same night, before the feast, King Horn had a terrible dream. He\nthought he saw his wife taken on board ship; soon the ship began to\nsink, and Rymenhild held out her hands for rescue, but Fikenhild,\nstanding in safety on shore, beat her back into the waves with his\nsword. With the agony of the sight Horn awoke, and, calling his\ncomrade Athulf, said: \"Friend, we must depart to-day. My wife is in\ndanger from false Fikenhild, whom I have trusted too much. Let us\ndelay no longer, but go at once. If God will, I hope to release her,\nand to punish Fikenhild. God grant we come in time!\" With some few\nchosen knights, King Horn and Athulf set out, and the ship drove\ndarkling through the sea, they knew not whither. All the night they\ndrifted on, and in the morning found themselves beneath a newly built\ncastle, which none of them had seen before.\n\n\nHorn's Disguise\n\nWhile they were seeking to moor their boat to the shore, one of the\ncastle windows looking out to sea opened, and they saw a knight\nstanding and gazing seaward, whom they speedily recognised; it was\nAthulf's cousin, Sir Arnoldin, one of the twelve comrades, who had\naccompanied the princess thither in the hope that he might yet save\nher from Fikenhild; he was now looking, as a forlorn hope, over the\nsea, though he believed Horn was dead. His joy was great when he saw\nthe knights, and he came out to them and speedily told them of\nRymenhild's distress and the position of affairs in the castle. King\nHorn was not at a loss for an expedient even in this distress. He\nquickly disguised himself and a few of his comrades as minstrels,\nharpers, fiddlers, and jugglers. Then, rowing to the mainland, he\nwaited till low tide, and made his way over the beach to the castle,\naccompanied by his disguised comrades. Outside the castle walls they\nbegan to play and sing, and Rymenhild heard them, and, asking what the\nsounds were, gave orders that the minstrels should be admitted. They\nsat on benches low down the hall, tuning their harps and fiddles and\nwatching the bride, who seemed unhappy and pale. When Horn sang a lay\nof true love and happiness, Rymenhild swooned for grief, and the\nking was touched to the heart with bitter remorse that he had tried\nher constancy so long, and had allowed her to endure such hardships\nand misery for his sake.\n\n[Illustration: Horn and his followers disguised as minstrels]\n\n\nDeath of Fikenhild\n\nKing Horn now glanced down and saw the ring of betrothal on his\nfinger, where he had worn it ever, except that fateful day when he had\ngiven it as a token of recognition to Rymenhild. He thought of his\nwife's sufferings, and his mind was made up. Springing from the\nminstrels' bench, he strode boldly up the hall, throwing off his\ndisguise, and, shouting, \"I am King Horn! False Fikenhild, thou shalt\ndie!\" he slew the villain in the midst of his men. Horn's comrades\nlikewise flung off their disguise, and soon overpowered the few of the\nhousehold who cared to fight in their dead master's cause. The castle\nwas taken for King Ailmar, who was persuaded to nominate Sir Arnoldin\nhis heir, and the baronage of Westernesse did homage to him as the\nnext king. Horn and his fair wife begged the good old steward Sir\nAthelbrus to go with them to Suddene, and on the way they touched at\nIreland, where Reynild, the king's fair daughter, was induced to look\nfavourably on Sir Athulf and accept him for her husband. The land of\nKing Modi, which had now no ruler, was committed to the care of Sir\nAthelbrus, and Horn and Rymenhild at last reached Suddene, where the\npeople received their fair queen with great joy, and where they dwelt\nin happiness till their lives' end.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV: ROBIN HOOD\n\n\nIntroduction\n\nEngland during the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries was\nslowly taught the value of firm administrative government. In Saxon\nEngland, the keeping of the peace and the maintenance of justice had\nbeen left largely to private and family enterprise and to local and\ntrading communities. In Norman England, the royal authority was\nasserted throughout the kingdom, though as yet the king had to depend\nin large measure upon the co-operation of his barons and the help of\nthe burghers to supply the lack of a standing army and an adequate\npolice. Under the Plantagenets, the older chivalry was slowly breaking\nup, and a new, wealthy burgher and trading community was rapidly\ngaining influence in the land; whilst the clergy, corrupted by excess\nof wealth and power, had strained, almost to breaking, the controlling\nforce of religion. It was therefore natural that in these latter days\na class of men should arise to avail themselves of the unique\nopportunities of the time--men who, loving liberty and hating\noppression, took the law into their own hands and executed a rough and\nready justice between the rich and the poor which embodied the best\ntraditions of knight-errantry, whilst they themselves lived a free and\nmerry life on the tolls they exacted from their wealthy victims. Such\na man may well have been the original Robin Hood, a man who, when once\nhe had captured the popular imagination, soon acquired heroic\nreputation and was credited with every daring deed and every\nmagnanimous action in two centuries of 'freebooting.'\n\n\nRobin Hood Seeks a Guest\n\nAt one time Robin Hood lived in the noble forest of Barnesdale, in\nYorkshire. He had but few of his merry men with him, for his\nheadquarters were in the glorious forest of Sherwood. Just now,\nhowever, the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire was less active in his\nendeavours to put down the band of outlaws, and the leader had\nwandered farther north than usual. Robin's companions were his three\ndearest comrades and most loyal followers, Little John (so called\nbecause of his great stature), Will Scarlet, Robin's cousin, and Much,\nthe miller's son. These three were all devoted to their leader, and\nnever left his side, except at such times as he sent them away on his\nbusiness.\n\nOn this day Robin was leaning against a tree, lost in thought, and his\nthree followers grew impatient; they knew that before dinner could be\nserved there were the three customary Masses to hear, and their leader\ngave no sign of being ready for Mass. Robin always heard three Masses\nbefore his dinner, one of the Father, one of the Holy Spirit, and the\nlast of Our Lady, who was his patron saint and protector. As the three\nyeomen were growing hungry, Little John ventured to address him.\n\"Master, it would do you good if you would dine early to-day, for you\nhave fasted long.\" Robin aroused himself and smiled. \"Ah, Little John,\nmethinks care for thine own appetite hath a share in that speech, as\nwell as care for me. But in sooth I care not to dine alone. I would\nhave a stranger guest, some abbot or bishop or baron, who would pay us\nfor our hospitality. I will not dine till a guest be found, and I\nleave it to you three to find him.\" Robin turned away, laughing at the\ncrestfallen faces of his followers, who had not counted on such a\nvague commission; but Little John, quickly recovering himself, called\nto him: \"Master, tell us, before we leave you, where we shall meet,\nand what sort of people we are to capture and bring to you in the\ngreenwood.\"\n\n\nThe Outlaws' Rules\n\n\"You know that already,\" said their master. \"You are to do no harm to\nwomen, nor to any company in which a woman is travelling; this is in\nhonour of our dear Lady. You are to be kind and gentle to husbandmen\nand toilers of all degrees, to worthy knights and yeomen, to gallant\nsquires, and to all children and helpless people; but sheriffs\n(especially him of Nottingham), bishops, and prelates of all kinds,\nand usurers in Church and State, you may regard as your enemies, and\nmay rob, beat, and despoil in any way. Meet me with your guest at our\ngreat trysting oak in the forest, and be speedy, for dinner must wait\nuntil the visitor has arrived.\" \"Now may God send us a suitable\ntraveller soon,\" said Little John, \"for I am hungry for dinner now.\"\n\"So am I,\" said each of the others, and Robin laughed again. \"Go ye\nall three, with bows and arrows in hand, and I will stay alone at the\ntrysting tree and await your coming. As no man passes this way, you\ncan walk up to the willow plantation and take your stand on Watling\nStreet; there you will soon meet with likely travellers, and I will\naccept the first who appears. I will find means to have dinner ready\nagainst your return, and we will hope that our visitor's generosity\nwill compensate us for the trouble of cooking his dinner.\"\n\n\nRobin Hood's Guest\n\nThe three yeomen, taking their longbows in hand and arrows in their\nbelts, walked up through the willow plantation to a place on Watling\nStreet where another road crossed it; but there was no one in sight.\nAs they stood with bows in hand, looking towards the forest of\nBarnesdale, they saw in the distance a knight riding in their\ndirection. As he drew nearer they were struck by his appearance, for\nhe rode as a man who had lost all interest in life; his clothes were\ndisordered, he looked neither to right nor left, but drooped his head\nsadly, while one foot hung in the stirrup and the other dangled\nslackly in the air. The yeomen had never seen so doleful a rider; but,\nsad as he was, this was a visitor and must be taken to Robin;\naccordingly Little John stepped forward and caught the horse by the\nbridle.\n\n[Illustration: \"Little John caught the horse by the bridle\"]\n\n\nLittle John Escorts the Knight\n\nThe knight raised his head and looked blankly at the outlaw, who at\nonce doffed his cap, saying, \"Welcome, Sir Knight! I give you, on my\nmaster's behalf, a hearty welcome to the greenwood. Gentle knight,\ncome now to my master, who hath waited three hours, fasting, for your\napproach before he would dine. Dinner is prepared, and only tarries\nyour courteous appearance.\" The stranger knight seemed to consider\nthis address carefully, for he sighed deeply, and then said: \"I cry\nthee mercy, good fellow, for the delay, though I wot not how I am the\ncause thereof. But who is thy master?\" Little John replied: \"My\nmaster's name is Robin Hood, and I am sent to guide you to him.\" The\nknight said: \"So Robin Hood is thy leader? I have heard of him, and\nknow him to be a good yeoman; therefore I am ready to accompany thee,\nthough, in good sooth, I had intended to eat my midday meal at Blythe\nor Doncaster to-day. But it matters little where a broken man dines!\"\n\n\nRobin Hood's Feast\n\nThe three yeomen conducted the knight along the forest ways to the\ntrysting oak where Robin awaited them. As they went they observed\nthat the knight was weeping silently for some great distress, but\ntheir courtesy forbade them to make any show of noticing his grief.\nWhen the appointed spot was reached, Robin stepped forward and\ncourteously greeted his guest, with head uncovered and bended knee,\nand welcomed him gladly to the wild greenwood. \"Welcome, Sir Knight,\nto our greenwood feast! I have waited three hours for a guest, and now\nOur Lady has sent you to me we can dine, after we have heard Mass.\"\nThe knight said nothing but, \"God save you, good Robin, and all your\nmerry men\"; and then very devoutly they heard the three Masses, sung\nby Friar Tuck. By this time others of the outlaw band had appeared,\nhaving returned from various errands, and a gay company sat down to a\nbanquet as good as any the knight had ever eaten.\n\n\nRobin Converses with the Knight\n\nThere was abundance of good things--venison and game of all kinds,\nswans and river-fowl and fish, with bread and good wine. Every one\nseemed joyous, and merry jests went round that jovial company, till\neven the careworn guest began to smile, and then to laugh outright. At\nthis Robin was well pleased, for he saw that his visitor was a good\nman, and was glad to have lifted the burden of his care, even if only\nfor a few minutes; so he smiled cheerfully at the knight and said: \"Be\nmerry, Sir Knight, I pray, and eat heartily of our food, for it is\nwith great goodwill that we offer it to you.\" \"Thanks, good Robin,\"\nreplied the knight. \"I have enjoyed my dinner to-day greatly; for\nthree weeks I have not had so good a meal. If I ever pass by this way\nagain I will do my best to repay you in kind; as good a dinner will I\ntry to provide as you have given me.\"\n\n\nRobin Demands Payment\n\nThe outlaw chief seemed to be affronted by this suggestion, and\nreplied, with a touch of pride in his manner: \"Thanks for your\nproffer, Sir Knight, but, by Heaven! no man has ever yet deemed me a\nglutton. While I eat one dinner I am not accustomed to look eagerly\nfor another--one is enough for me. But as for you, my guest, I think\nit only fitting that you should pay before you go; a yeoman was never\nmeant to pay for a knight's banquet.\" The knight blushed, and looked\nconfused for a moment, and then said: \"True, Robin, and gladly would I\nreward you for my entertainment, but I have no money worth offering;\neven all I have would not be worthy of your acceptance, and I should\nbe shamed in your eyes, and those of your men.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"I have no money worth offering\"]\n\n\nThe Knight's Poverty\n\n\"Is that the truth?\" asked Robin, making a sign to Little John, who\narose, and, going to the knight's steed, unstrapped a small coffer,\nwhich he brought back and placed before his master. \"Search it, Little\nJohn,\" said he, and \"You, sir, tell me the very truth, by your honour\nas a belted knight.\" \"It is truth, on my honour, that I have but ten\nshillings,\" replied the knight, \"and if Little John searches he will\nfind no more.\" \"Open the coffer,\" said Robin, and Little John took it\naway to the other side of the trysting oak, where he emptied its\ncontents on his outspread cloak, and found exactly ten shillings.\nReturning to his master, who sat at his ease, drinking and gaily\nconversing with his anxious guest, Little John whispered: \"The knight\nhas told the truth,\" and thereupon Robin exclaimed aloud: \"Sir Knight,\nI will not take one penny from you; you may rather borrow of me if\nyou have need of more money, for ten shillings is but a miserable sum\nfor a knight. But tell me now, if it be your pleasure, how you come to\nbe in such distress.\" As he looked inquiringly at the stranger, whose\nblush had faded once, only to be renewed as he found his word of\nhonour doubted, he noticed how thin and threadbare were his clothes\nand how worn his russet leather shoes; and he was grieved to see so\nnoble-seeming a man in such a plight.\n\n\nThe Knight's Story\n\nYet Robin meant to fathom the cause of the knight's trouble, for then,\nperhaps, he would be able to help him, so he continued pitilessly:\n\"Tell me just one word, which I will keep secret from all other men:\nwere you driven by compulsion to take up knighthood, or urged to beg\nit by reason of the ownership of some small estate; or have you wasted\nyour old inheritance with fines for brawling and strife, or in\ngambling and riotousness, or in borrowing at usury? All of these are\nfatal to a good estate.\"\n\nThe knight replied: \"Alas! good Robin, none of these hath been my\nundoing. My ancestors have all been knights for over a hundred years,\nand I have not lived wastefully, but soberly and sparely. As short a\ntime ago as last year I had over four hundred pounds saved, which I\ncould spend freely among my neighbours, and my income was four hundred\npounds a year, from my land; but now my only possessions are my wife\nand children. This is the work of God's hand, and to Him I commit me\nto amend my estate in His own good time.\"\n\n\nHow the Money was Lost\n\n\"But how have you so soon lost this great wealth?\" asked Robin\nincredulously; and the knight replied sadly: \"Ah, Robin, you have no\nson, or you would know that a father will give up all to save his\nfirst-born. I have one gallant son, and when I went on the Crusade\nwith our noble Prince Edward I left him at home to guard my lands, for\nhe was twenty years old, and was a brave and comely youth. When I\nreturned, after two years' absence, it was to find him in great\ndanger, for in a public tournament he had slain in open fight a knight\nof Lancashire and a bold young squire. He would have died a shameful\ndeath had I not spent all my ready money and other property to save\nhim from prison, for his enemies were mighty and unjust; and even that\nwas not enough, for I was forced to mortgage my estates for more\nmoney. All my land lies in pledge to the abbot of St. Mary's Abbey, in\nYork, and I have no hope to redeem it. I was riding to York when your\nmen found me.\"\n\n\nThe Sum Required\n\n\"For what sum is your land pledged?\" asked the master-outlaw; and the\nknight replied: \"The Abbot lent me four hundred pounds, though the\nvalue of the land is far beyond that.\" \"What will you do if you fail\nto redeem your land?\" asked Robin. \"I shall leave England at once, and\njourney once more to Jerusalem, and tread again the sacred Hill of\nCalvary, and never more return to my native land. That will be my\nfate, for I see no likelihood of repaying the loan, and I will not\nstay to see strangers holding my father's land. Farewell, my friend\nRobin, farewell to you all! Keep the ten shillings; I would have paid\nmore if I could, but that is the best I can give you.\" \"Have you no\nfriends at home?\" asked Robin; and the knight said: \"Many friends I\nthought I had, sir. They were very kind and helpful in my days of\nprosperity, when I did not need them; now they will not know me, so\nmuch has my poverty seemed to alter my face and appearance.\"\n\n\nRobin Offers a Loan\n\nThis pitiful story touched the hearts of the simple and kindly\noutlaws; they wept for pity, and cared not to hide their tears from\neach other, until Robin made them all pledge their guest in bumpers of\ngood red wine. Then their chief asked, as if continuing his own train\nof thought: \"Have you any friends who will act as sureties for the\nrepayment of the loan?\" \"None at all,\" replied the knight hopelessly,\n\"but God Himself, who suffered on the Tree for us.\" This last reply\nangered Robin, who thought it savoured too much of companionship with\nthe fat and hypocritical monks whom he hated, and he retorted sharply:\n\"No such tricks for me! Do you think I will take such a surety, or\neven one of the saints, in return for good solid gold? Get some more\nsubstantial surety, or no gold shall you have from me. I cannot afford\nto waste my money.\"\n\n\nThe Knight Offers Surety\n\nThe knight replied, sighing heavily: \"If you will not take these I\nhave no earthly surety to offer; and in Heaven there is only our dear\nLady. I have served her truly, and she has never failed me till now,\nwhen her servant, the abbot, is playing me so cruel a trick.\" \"Do you\ngive Our Lady as your surety?\" said Robin Hood. \"I would take her bond\nfor any sum, for throughout all England you could find no better\nsurety than our dear Lady, who has always been gracious to me. She is\nenough security. Go, Little John, to my treasury and bring me four\nhundred pounds, well counted, with no false or clipped coin therein.\"\n\n\nRobin Hood's Gifts\n\nLittle John, accompanied by Much, the careful treasurer of the band,\nwent quickly to the secret place where the master-outlaw kept his\ngold. Very carefully they counted out the coins, testing each, to see\nthat it was of full weight and value. Then, on the suggestion of\nLittle John, they provided the knight with new clothing, even to boots\nand spurs, and finally supplied him with two splendid horses, one for\nriding and one to carry his baggage and the coffer of gold.\n\nThe guest watched all these preparations with bewildered eyes, and\nturned to Robin, crying, \"Why have you done all this for me, a perfect\nstranger?\" \"You are no stranger, but Our Lady's messenger. She sent\nyou to me, and Heaven grant you may prove true.\"\n\n\nThe Bond of Repayment\n\n\"God grant it,\" echoed the knight. \"But, Robin, when shall I repay\nthis loan, and where? Set me a day, and I will keep it.\" \"Here,\"\nreplied the outlaw, \"under this greenwood tree, and in a twelvemonth's\ntime; so will you have time to regain your friends and gather your\nrents from your redeemed lands. Now farewell, Sir Knight; and since it\nis not meet for a worthy knight to journey unattended, I will lend you\nalso my comrade, Little John, to be your squire, and to do you yeoman\nservice, if need be.\" The knight bade farewell to Robin and his\ngenerous followers, and was turning to ride away, when he suddenly\nstopped and addressed the master-outlaw: \"In faith, good Robin, I had\nforgotten one thing. You know not my name. I am Sir Richard of the\nLea, and my land lies in Uterysdale.\" \"As for that,\" said Robin Hood,\n\"I trouble not myself. You are Our Lady's messenger; that is enough\nfor me.\" So Sir Richard rode gladly away, blessing the generous outlaw\nwho lent him money to redeem his land, and a stout yeoman to defend\nthe loan.\n\n\nSir Richard's Journey\n\nAs the knight and his new servant rode on, Sir Richard called to his\nman, saying, \"I must by all means be in York to-morrow, to pay the\nabbot of St. Mary's four hundred pounds; if I fail of my day I shall\nlose my land and lordship for ever\"; and Little John answered: \"Fear\nnot, master; we will surely be there in time enough.\" Then they rode\non, and reached York early on the last day of the appointed time.\n\n\nThe Abbot and Prior of St. Mary's\n\nIn the meantime the abbot of St. Mary's was counting that Sir\nRichard's lands were safely his; he had no pity for the poor unlucky\nknight, but rather exulted in the legal cruelty which he could\ninflict. Very joyfully he called aloud, early that morn: \"A\ntwelvemonth ago to-day we lent four hundred pounds to a needy knight,\nSir Richard of the Lea, and unless he comes by noon to-day to repay\nthe money he will lose all his land and be disinherited, and our abbey\nwill be the richer by a fat estate, worth four hundred pounds a year.\nOur Lady grant that he keep not his day.\" \"Shame on you!\" cried the\nprior. \"This poor knight may be ill, or beyond the sea; he may be in\nhunger and cold as well as poverty, and it will be a foul wrong if you\ndeclare his land forfeit.\"\n\n\"This is the set day,\" replied the abbot, \"and he is not here.\" \"You\ndare not escheat his estates yet,\" replied the prior stubbornly. \"It\nis too early in the day; until noon the lands are still Sir Richard's,\nand no man shall take them ere the clock strikes. Shame on your\nconscience and your greed, to do a good knight such foul wrong! I\nwould willingly pay a hundred pounds myself to prevent it.\"\n\n\"Beshrew your meddlesome temper!\" cried the abbot. \"You are always\ncrossing me! But I have with me the Lord Chief Justice, and he will\ndeclare my legal right.\" Just at that moment the high cellarer of the\nabbey entered to congratulate the abbot on Sir Richard's absence. \"He\nis dead or ill, and we shall have the spending of four hundred pounds\na year,\" quoth he.\n\n\nSir Richard Returns\n\nOn his arrival Sir Richard had quietly gone round to his old tenants\nin York, and had a goodly company of them ready to ride with him, but\nhe was minded to test the charity and true religion of the abbot, and\nbade his followers assume pilgrims' robes. Thus attired, the company\nrode to the abbey gate, where the porter recognised Sir Richard, and\nthe news of his coming, carried to the abbot and justice, caused them\ngreat grief; but the prior rejoiced, hoping that a cruel injustice\nwould be prevented. As they dismounted the porter loudly called grooms\nto lead the horses into the stable and have them relieved of their\nburdens, but Sir Richard would not allow it, and left Little John to\nwatch over them at the abbey portal.\n\n\nThe Abbot and Sir Richard\n\nThen Sir Richard came humbly into the hall, where a great banquet was\nin progress, and knelt down in courteous salutation to the abbot and\nhis guests; but the prelate, who had made up his mind what conduct to\nadopt, greeted him coldly, and many men did not return his salutation\nat all. Sir Richard spoke aloud: \"Rejoice, Sir Abbot, for I am come to\nkeep my day.\" \"That is well,\" replied the monk, \"but hast thou brought\nthe money?\" \"No money have I, not one penny,\" continued Sir Richard\nsadly. \"Pledge me in good red wine, Sir Justice,\" cried the abbot\ncallously; \"the land is mine. And what dost thou here, Sir Richard, a\nbroken man, with no money to pay thy debt?\" \"I am come to beg you to\ngrant me a longer time for repayment.\" \"Not one minute past the\nappointed hour,\" said the exultant prelate. \"Thou hast broken pledge,\nand thy land is forfeit.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Sir Richard knelt in courteous salutation\"]\n\n\nSir Richard Implores the Justice\n\nStill kneeling, Sir Richard turned to the justice and said: \"Good Sir\nJustice, be my friend and plead for me.\" \"No,\" he replied, \"I hold to\nthe law, and can give thee no help.\" \"Gentle abbot, have pity on me,\nand let me have my land again, and I will be the humble servant of\nyour monastery till I have repaid in full your four hundred pounds.\"\nThen the cruel prelate swore a terrible oath that never should the\nknight have his land again, and no one in the hall would speak for\nhim, kneeling there poor, friendless, and alone; so at last he began\nto threaten violence. \"Unless I have my land again,\" quoth he, \"some\nof you here shall dearly abide it. Now may I see the poor man has no\nfriends, for none will stand by me in my need.\"\n\n\nThe Justice Suggests a Compromise\n\nThe hint of violence made the abbot furiously angry, and, secure in\nhis position and the support of the justice, he shouted loudly: \"Out,\nthou false knight! Out of my hall!\" Then at last Sir Richard rose to\nhis feet in just wrath. \"Thou liest, Sir Abbot; foully thou liest! I\nwas never a false knight. In joust and tourney I have adventured as\nfar and as boldly as any man alive. There is no true courtesy in thee,\nabbot, to suffer a knight to kneel so long.\" The quarrel now seemed so\nserious that the justice intervened, saying to the angry prelate,\n\"What will you give me if I persuade him to sign a legal deed of\nrelease? Without it you will never hold this land in peace.\" \"You\nshall have a hundred pounds for yourself,\" said the abbot, and the\njustice nodded in token of assent.\n\n\nSir Richard Pays the Money\n\nNow Sir Richard thought it was time to drop the mask, for noon was\nnigh, and he would not risk his land again. Accordingly he cried:\n\"Nay, but not so easily shall ye have my lands. Even if you were to\npay a thousand pounds more you should not hold my father's estate.\nHave here your money back again\"; and, calling for Little John, he\nbade him bring into the hall his coffer with the bags inside. Then he\ncounted out on the table four hundred good golden pounds, and said\nsternly: \"Abbot, here is your money again. Had you but been courteous\nto me I would have rewarded you well; now take your money, give me a\nquittance, and I will take my lands once more. Ye are all witnesses\nthat I have kept my day and have paid in full.\" Thereupon Sir Richard\nstrode haughtily out of the hall, and rode home gladly to his\nrecovered lands in Uterysdale, where he and his family ever prayed for\nRobin Hood. The abbot of St. Mary's was bitterly enraged, for he had\nlost the fair lands of Sir Richard of the Lea and had received a bare\nfour hundred pounds again. As for Little John, he went back to the\nforest and told his master the whole story, to Robin Hood's great\nsatisfaction, for he enjoyed the chance of thwarting the schemes of a\nwealthy and usurious prelate.\n\n\nSir Richard Sets Out to Repay the Loan\n\nWhen a year had passed all but a few days, Sir Richard of the Lea said\nto his wife: \"Lady, I must shortly go to Barnesdale to repay Robin\nHood the loan which saved my lands, and would fain take him some small\ngift in addition; what do you advise?\" \"Sir Richard, I would take a\nhundred bows of Spanish yew and a hundred sheaves of arrows,\npeacock-feathered, or grey-goose-feathered; methinks that will be to\nRobin a most acceptable gift.\"\n\nSir Richard followed his wife's advice, and on the morning of the\nappointed day set out to keep his tryst at the outlaws' oak in\nBarnesdale, with the money duly counted, and the bows and arrows for\nhis present to the outlaw chief.\n\n\nThe Wrestling\n\nAs he rode, however, at the head of his troop he passed through a\nvillage where there was a wrestling contest, which he stayed to watch.\nHe soon saw that the victorious wrestler, who was a stranger to the\nvillage, would be defrauded of his well-earned prize, which consisted\nof a white bull, a noble charger gaily caparisoned, a gold ring, a\npipe of wine, and a pair of embroidered gloves. This seemed so wrong\nto Sir Richard that he stayed to defend the right, for love of Robin\nHood and of justice, and kept the wrestling ring in awe with his\nwell-appointed troop of men, so that the stranger was allowed to claim\nhis prize and carry it off. Sir Richard, anxious not to arouse the\nhostility of the villagers, bought the pipe of wine from the winner,\nand, setting it abroach, allowed all who would to drink; and so, in a\ntumult of cheers and blessings, he rode away to keep his tryst. By\nthis time, however, it was nearly three in the afternoon, and he\nshould have been there at twelve. He comforted himself with the\nthought that Robin would forgive the delay, for the sake of its cause,\nand so rode on comfortably enough at the head of his gallant company.\n\n\nRobin's Impatience\n\nIn the meantime Robin had waited patiently at the trysting tree till\nnoon, but when the hour passed and Sir Richard had not appeared he\nbegan to grow impatient. \"Master, let us dine,\" said Little John. \"I\ncannot; I fear Our Lady is angered with me, for she has not sent me my\nmoney,\" returned the leader; but his follower replied: \"The money is\nnot due till sunset, master, and Our Lady is true, and so is Sir\nRichard; have no fear.\" \"Do you three walk up through the willow\nplantation to Watling Street, as you did last year, and bring me a\nguest,\" said Robin Hood. \"He may be a messenger, a minstrel, a poor\nman, but he will come in God's name.\"\n\n\nThe Monks Approach\n\nAgain the three yeomen, Little John, Will Scarlet, and Much the\nmiller's son, took bow in hand and set out for Watling Street; but\nthis time they had not long to wait, for they at once saw a little\nprocession approaching. Two black monks rode at the head; then\nfollowed seven sumpter-mules and a train of fifty-two men, so that the\nclerics rode in almost royal state. \"Seest thou yon monks?\" said\nLittle John. \"I will pledge my soul that they have brought our pay.\"\n\"But they are fifty-four, and we are but three,\" said Scarlet. \"Unless\nwe bring them to dinner we dare not face our master,\" cried Little\nJohn. \"Look well to your bows, your strings and arrows, and have stout\nhearts and steady hands. I will take the foremost monk, for life or\ndeath.\"\n\n\nThe Capture of the Black Monk\n\nThe three outlaws stepped out into the road from the shelter of the\nwood; they bent their bows and held their arrows on the string, and\nLittle John cried aloud: \"Stay, churlish monk, or thou goest to thy\ndeath, and it will be on thine own head! Evil on thee for keeping our\nmaster fasting so long.\" \"Who is your master?\" asked the bewildered\nmonk; and Little John replied: \"Robin Hood.\" The monk tossed his head.\n\"He is a foul thief,\" cried he, \"and will come to a bad end. I have\nheard no good of him all my days.\" So speaking, he tried to ride\nforward and trample down the three yeomen; but Little John cried:\n\"Thou liest, churlish monk, and thou shalt rue the lie. He is a good\nyeoman of this forest, and has bidden thee to dine with him this day\";\nand Much, drawing his bow, shot the monk to the heart, so that he fell\nto the ground dead. The other black monk was taken, but all his\nfollowers fled, except a little page, and a groom who tended the\nsumpter-mules; and thus, with Little John's help and guidance, the\npanic-stricken cleric and his train of baggage were brought to Robin\nunder the trysting tree.\n\n[Illustration: \"Much shot the monk to the heart\"]\n\n\nThe Outlaws' Feast\n\nRobin Hood doffed his cap and greeted his guest with all courtesy, but\nthe monk would not reply, and Little John's account of their meeting\nmade it evident that he was a churlish and unwilling guest. However,\nhe was obliged to celebrate the three usual Masses, was given water\nfor his ablutions before the banquet, and then when the whole\nfellowship was assembled he was set in the place of honour at the\nfeast, and reverently served by Robin himself. \"Be of good cheer, Sir\nMonk,\" said Robin. \"Where is your abbey when you are at home, and who\nis your patron saint?\" \"I am of St. Mary's Abbey, in York, and, simple\nthough I be, I am the high cellarer.\"\n\n\nThe High Cellarer and the Suretyship\n\n\"For Our Lady's sake,\" said Robin, \"we will give this monk the best of\ncheer. Drink to me, Sir Monk; the wine is good. But I fear Our Lady is\nwroth with me, for she has not sent me my money.\" \"Fear not, master,\"\nreturned Little John; \"this monk is her cellarer, and no doubt she has\nmade him her messenger and he carries our money with him.\" \"That is\nlikely,\" replied Robin. \"Sir Monk, Our Lady was surety for a little\nloan between a good knight and me, and to-day the money was to be\nrepaid. If you have brought it, pay it to me now, and I will thank you\nheartily.\" The monk was quite amazed, and cried aloud: \"I have never\nheard of such a suretyship\"; and as he spoke he looked so anxiously at\nhis sumpter-mules that Robin guessed there was gold in their\npack-saddles.\n\n\nThe Monk is Searched\n\nAccordingly the leader feigned sudden anger. \"Sir Monk, how dare you\ndefame our dear Lady? She is always true and faithful, and as you say\nyou are her servant, no doubt she has made you her messenger to bring\nmy money. Tell me truly how much you have in your coffers, and I will\nthank you for coming so punctually.\" The monk replied: \"Sir, I have\nonly twenty marks in my bags\"; to which Robin answered: \"If that be\nall, and you have told the truth I will not touch one penny; rather\nwill I lend you some if you need it; but if I find more, I will leave\nnone, Sir Monk, for a religious man should have no silver to spend in\nluxury.\" Now the monk looked very greatly alarmed, but he dared make\nno protest, as Little John began to search his bags and coffers.\n\n\nSuccess of the Search\n\nWhen Little John opened the first coffer he emptied its contents, as\nbefore, into his cloak, and counted eight hundred pounds, with which\nhe went to Robin Hood, saying, \"Master, the monk has told the truth;\nhere are twenty marks of his own, and eight hundred pounds which Our\nLady has sent you in return for your loan.\" When Robin heard that he\ncried to the miserable monk: \"Did I not say so, monk? Is not Our Lady\nthe best surety a man could have? Has she not repaid me twice? Go back\nto your abbey and say that if ever St. Mary's monks need a friend they\nshall find one in Robin Hood.\"\n\n\nThe Monk Departs\n\n\"Where were you journeying?\" asked the outlaw leader. \"To settle\naccounts with the bailiffs of our manors,\" replied the cellarer; but\nhe was in truth journeying to London, to obtain powers from the king\nagainst Sir Richard of the Lea. Robin thought for a moment, and then\nsaid: \"Ah, then we must search your other coffer,\" and in spite of the\ncellarer's indignant protests he was deprived of all the money that\nsecond coffer contained. Then he was allowed to depart, vowing\nbitterly that a dinner in Blythe or Doncaster would have cost him much\nless dear.\n\n\nSir Richard Arrives\n\nLate that afternoon Sir Richard of the Lea and his little company\narrived at the trysting tree, and full courteously the knight greeted\nhis deliverer and apologised for his delay. Robin asked of his\nwelfare, and the knight told of his protection of the poor wrestler,\nfor which Robin thanked him warmly. When he would fain have repaid the\nloan the generous outlaw refused to accept the money, though he took\nwith hearty thanks the bows and arrows. In answer to the knight's\ninquiries, Robin said that he had been paid the money twice over\nbefore he came; and he told, to his debtor's great amusement, the\nstory of the high cellarer and his eight hundred pounds, and\nconcluded: \"Our Lady owed me no more than four hundred pounds, and she\nnow gives you, by me, the other four hundred. Take them, with her\nblessing, and if ever you need more come to Robin Hood.\"\n\nSo Sir Richard returned to Uterysdale, and long continued to use his\npower to protect the bold outlaws, and Robin Hood dwelt securely in\nthe greenwood, doing good to the poor and worthy, but acting as a\nthorn in the sides of all oppressors and tyrants.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI: HEREWARD THE WAKE\n\n\nIntroduction\n\nIn dealing with hero-legends and myths we are sometimes confronted\nwith the curious fact that a hero whose name and date can be\nascertained with exactitude has yet in his story mythological elements\nwhich seem to belong to all the ages. This anomaly arises chiefly from\nthe fact that the imagination of a people is a myth-making thing, and\nthat the more truly popular the hero the more likely he is to become\nthe centre of a whole cycle of myths, which are in different ages\nattached to the heroes of different periods. The folk-lore of\nprimitive races is a great storehouse whence a people can choose tales\nand heroic deeds to glorify its own national hero, careless that the\nsame tales and deeds have done duty for other peoples and other\nheroes. Hence it happens that Hereward the Saxon, a patriot hero as\nreal and actual as Wellington or Nelson, whose deeds were recorded in\nprose and verse within forty years of his death, was even then\nsurrounded by a cloud of romance and mystery, which hid in vagueness\nhis family, his marriage, and even his death.\n\n\nThe Saxon Patriot\n\nHereward was, naturally, the darling hero of the Saxons, and for the\npatriotism of his splendid defence of Ely they forgave his final\nsurrender to William the Norman; then they attributed to him all the\nvirtues supposed to be inherent in the free-born, and all the glorious\nvalour on which the English prided themselves; and, lastly, they\nsurrounded his death with a halo of desperate fighting, and made his\nlast conflict as wonderful as that of Roland at Roncesvalles. If\nRoland is the ideal of Norman feudal chivalry, Hereward is equally\nthe ideal of Anglo-Saxon sturdy manliness and knighthood, and it seems\nfitting that the Saxon ideal in the individual should go down before\nthe representatives, however unworthy, of a higher ideal.\n\n\nLeofric of Mercia\n\nWhen the weak but saintly King Edward the Confessor nominally ruled\nall England the land was divided into four great earldoms, of which\nMercia and Kent were held by two powerful rivals. Leofric of Mercia\nand Godwin of Kent were jealous not only for themselves, but for their\nfamilies, of each other's power and wealth, and the sons of Leofric\nand of Godwin were ever at strife, though the two earls were now old\nand prudent men, whose wars were fought with words and craft, not with\nswords. The wives of the two great earls were as different as their\nlords. The Lady Gytha, Godwin's wife, of the royal Danish race, was\nfierce and haughty, a fit helpmeet for the ambitious earl who was to\nundermine the strength of England by his efforts to win kingly power\nfor his children. But the Lady Godiva, Leofric's beloved wife, was a\ngentle, pious, loving woman, who had already won an almost saintly\nreputation for sympathy and pity by her sacrifice to save her\nhusband's oppressed citizens at Coventry, where her pleading won\nrelief for them from the harsh earl on the pitiless condition of her\nnever-forgotten ride. Happily her gentle self-suppression awoke a\nnobler spirit in her husband, and enabled him to play a worthier part\nin England's history. She was in entire sympathy with the religious\naspirations of Edward the Confessor, and would gladly have seen one of\nher sons become a monk, perhaps to win spiritual power and a saintly\nreputation like those of the great Dunstan.\n\n[Illustration: \"Her pleading won relief for them\"]\n\n\nHereward's Youth\n\nFor this holy vocation she fixed on her second son, Hereward, a wild,\nwayward lad, with long golden curls, eyes of different colours, one\ngrey, one blue, great breadth and strength of limb, and a wild and\nungovernable temper which made him difficult of control. This reckless\nlad the Lady Godiva vainly tried to educate for the monkish life, but\nhe utterly refused to adopt her scheme, would not master any but the\nbarest rudiments of learning, and spent his time in wrestling, boxing,\nfighting and all manly exercises. Despairing of making him an\necclesiastic, his mother set herself to inspire him with a noble ideal\nof knighthood, but his wildness and recklessness increased with his\nyears, and often his mother had to stand between the riotous lad and\nhis father's deserved anger.\n\n\nHis Strength and Leadership\n\nWhen he reached the age of sixteen or seventeen he became the terror\nof the Fen Country, for at his father's Hall of Bourne he gathered a\nband of youths as wild and reckless as himself, who accepted him for\ntheir leader, and obeyed him implicitly, however outrageous were his\ncommands. The wise Earl Leofric, who was much at court with the\nsaintly king, understood little of the nature of his second son, and\nlooked upon his wild deeds as evidence of a cruel and lawless mind, a\nmenace to the peace of England, while they were in reality but the\ntokens of a restless energy for which the comparatively peaceable life\nof England at that time was all too dull and tame.\n\n\nLeofric and Hereward\n\nFrequent were the disputes between father and son, and sadly did Lady\nGodiva forebode an evil ending to the clash of warring natures\nwhenever Hereward and his father met; yet she could do nothing to\navert disaster, for though her entreaties would soften the lad into\npenitence for some mad prank or reckless outrage, one hint of cold\nblame from his father would suffice to make him hardened and\nimpenitent; and so things drifted from bad to worse. In all Hereward's\nlawless deeds, however, there was no meanness or crafty malice. He\nhated monks and played many a rough trick upon them, but took his\npunishment, when it came, with equable cheerfulness; he robbed\nmerchants with a high hand, but made reparation liberally, counting\nhimself well satisfied with the fun of a fight or the skill of a\nclever trick; his band of youths met and fought other bands, but they\nbore no malice when the strife was over. In one point only was\nHereward less than true to his own nobility of character--he was\njealous of admitting that any man was his superior in strength or\ncomeliness, and his vanity was well supported by his extraordinary\nmight and beauty.\n\n\nHereward at Court\n\nThe deeds which brought Earl Leofric's wrath upon his son in a\nterrible fashion were not matters of wanton wickedness, but of lawless\npersonal violence. Called to attend his father to the Confessor's\ncourt, the youth, who had little respect for one so unwarlike as \"the\nmiracle-monger,\" uttered his contempt for saintly king, Norman\nprelate, and studious monks too loudly, and thereby shocked the weakly\ndevout Edward, who thought piety the whole duty of man. But his\nwildness touched the king more nearly still; for in his sturdy\npatriotism he hated the Norman favourites and courtiers who surrounded\nthe Confessor, and again and again his marvellous strength was shown\nin the personal injuries he inflicted on the Normans in mere boyish\nbrawls, until at last his father could endure the disgrace no longer.\n\n\nHereward's Exile\n\nBegging an audience of the king, Leofric formally asked for a writ of\noutlawry against his own son. The Confessor, surprised, but not\ndispleased, felt some compunction as he saw the father's affection\noverborne by the judge's severity. Earl Godwin, Leofric's greatest\nrival, was present in the council, and his pleading for the noble lad,\nwhose faults were only those of youth, was sufficient to make Leofric\nmore urgent in his petition. The curse of family feud, which\nafterwards laid England prostrate at the foot of the Conqueror, was\nalready felt, and felt so strongly that Hereward resented Godwin's\nintercession more than his father's sternness.\n\n\nHereward's Farewell\n\n\"What!\" he cried, \"shall a son of Leofric, the noblest man in England,\naccept intercession from Godwin or any of his family? No. I may be\nunworthy of my wise father and my saintly mother, but I am not yet\nsunk so low as to ask a favour from a Godwin. Father, I thank you. For\nyears I have fretted against the peace of the land, and thus have\nincurred your displeasure; but in exile I may range abroad and win my\nfortune at the sword's point.\" \"Win thy fortune, foolish boy!\" said\nhis father. \"And whither wilt thou fare?\" \"Wherever fate and my\nfortune lead me,\" he replied recklessly. \"Perhaps to join Harald\nHardrada at Constantinople and become one of the Emperor's Varangian\nGuard; perhaps to follow old Beowa out into the West, at the end of\nsome day of glorious battle; perhaps to fight giants and dragons and\nall kinds of monsters. All these things I may do, but never shall\nMercia see me again till England calls me home. Farewell, father;\nfarewell, Earl Godwin; farewell, reverend king. I go. And pray ye that\nye may never need my arm, for it may hap that ye will call me and I\nwill not come.\" Then Hereward rode away, followed into exile by one\nman only, Martin Lightfoot, who left the father's service for that of\nhis outlawed son. It was when attending the king's court on this\noccasion that Hereward first saw and felt the charm of a lovely little\nSaxon maiden named Alftruda, a ward of the pious king.\n\n\nHereward in Northumbria\n\nThough the king's writ of outlawry might run in Mercia, it did not\ncarry more than nominal weight in Northumbria, where Earl Siward ruled\nalmost as an independent lord. Thither Hereward determined to go, for\nthere dwelt his own godfather, Gilbert of Ghent, and his castle was\nknown as a good training school for young aspirants for knighthood.\nSailing from Dover, Hereward landed at Whitby, and made his way to\nGilbert's castle, where he was well received, since the cunning\nFleming knew that an outlawry could be reversed at any time, and\nLeofric's son might yet come to rule England. Accordingly Hereward was\nenrolled in the number of young men, mainly Normans or Flemings, who\nwere seeking to perfect themselves in chivalry before taking\nknighthood. He soon showed himself a brave warrior, an unequalled\nwrestler, and a wary fighter, and soon no one cared to meddle with the\nyoung Mercian, who outdid them all in manly sports. The envy of the\nyoung Normans was held in check by Gilbert, and by a wholesome dread\nof Hereward's strong arm; until, in Gilbert's absence, an incident\noccurred which placed the young exile on a pinnacle so far above them\nthat only by his death could they hope to rid themselves of their\nfeeling of inferiority.\n\n\nThe Fairy Bear\n\nGilbert kept in his castle court an immense white Polar bear, dreaded\nby all for its enormous strength, and called the Fairy Bear. It was\neven believed that the huge beast had some kinship to old Earl Siward,\nwho bore a bear upon his crest, and was reputed to have had something\nof bear-like ferocity in his youth. This white bear was so much\ndreaded that he was kept chained up in a strong cage. One morning as\nHereward was returning with Martin from his morning ride he heard\nshouts and shrieks from the castle yard, and, reaching the great gate,\nentered lightly and closed it behind him rapidly, for there outside\nthe shattered cage, with broken chain dangling, stood the Fairy Bear,\nglaring savagely round the courtyard. But one human figure was in\nsight, that of a girl of about twelve years of age.\n\n\nHereward Slays the Bear\n\nThere were sounds of men's voices and women's shrieks from within the\ncastle, but the doors were fast barred, while the maid, in her terror,\nbeat on the portal with her palms, and begged them, for the love of\nGod, to let her in. The cowards, refused, and in the meantime the\ngreat bear, irritated by the dangling chain, made a rush towards the\nchild. Hereward dashed forward, shouting to distract the bear, and\njust managed to stop his charge at the girl. The savage animal turned\non the new-comer, who needed all his agility to escape the monster's\nterrible onset. Seizing his battle-axe, the youth swung it around\nhis head and split the skull of the furious beast, which fell dead. It\nwas a blow so mighty that even Hereward himself was surprised at its\ndeadly effect, and approached cautiously to examine his victim. In the\nmeantime the little girl, who proved to be no other than the king's\nward, Alftruda, had watched with fascinated eyes first the approach of\nthe monster, and then, as she crouched in terror, its sudden\nslaughter; and now she summoned up courage to run to Hereward, who had\nalways been kind to the pretty child, and to fling herself into his\narms. \"Kind Hereward,\" she whispered, \"you have saved me and killed\nthe bear. I love you for it, and I must give you a kiss, for my dame\nsays so do all ladies that choose good knights to be their champions.\nWill you be mine?\" As she spoke she kissed Hereward again and again.\n\n[Illustration: Alftruda]\n\n\nHereward's Trick on the Knights\n\n\"Where have they all gone, little one?\" asked the young noble; and\nAlftruda replied: \"We were all out here in the courtyard watching the\nyoung men at their exercises, when we heard a crash and a roar, and\nthe cage burst open, and we saw the dreadful Fairy Bear. They all ran,\nthe ladies and knights, but I was the last, and they were so\nfrightened that they shut themselves in and left me outside; and when\nI beat at the door and prayed them to let me in they would not, and I\nthought the bear would eat me, till you came.\"\n\n\"The cowards!\" cried Hereward. \"And they think themselves worthy of\nknighthood when they will save their own lives and leave a child in\ndanger! They must be taught a lesson. Martin, come hither and aid me.\"\nWhen Martin came, the two, with infinite trouble, raised the carcase\nof the monstrous beast, and placed it just where the bower door,\nopening, would show it at once. Then Hereward bade Alftruda call to\nthe knights in the bower that all was safe and they could come out,\nfor the bear would not hurt them. He and Martin, listening, heard with\ngreat glee the bitter debate within the bower as to who should risk\nhis life to open the door, the many excuses given for refusal, the\nmischievous fun in Alftruda's voice as she begged some one to open to\nher, and, best of all, the cry of horror with which the knight who had\nventured to draw the bolt shut the door again on seeing the Fairy Bear\nwaiting to enter. Hereward even carried his trick so far as to thrust\nthe bear heavily against the bower door, making all the people within\nshriek and implore the protection of the saints. Finally, when he was\ntired of the jest, he convinced the valiant knights that they might\nemerge safely from their retirement, and showed how he, a stripling of\nseventeen, had slain the monster at one blow. From that time Hereward\nwas the darling of the whole castle, petted, praised, beloved by all\nits inmates, except his jealous rivals.\n\n\nHereward Leaves Northumbria\n\nThe foreign knights grew so jealous of the Saxon youth, and so restive\nunder his shafts of sarcastic ridicule, that they planned several\ntimes to kill him, and once or twice nearly succeeded. This\ninsecurity, and a feeling that perhaps Earl Siward had some kinship\nwith the Fairy Bear, and would wish to avenge his death, made Hereward\ndecide to quit Gilbert's castle. The spirit of adventure was strong\nupon him, the sea seemed to call him; now that he had been\nacknowledged superior to the other noble youths in Gilbert's\nhousehold, the castle no longer afforded a field for his ambition.\nAccordingly he took a sad leave of Alftruda, an affectionate one of\nSir Gilbert, who wished to knight him for his brave deed, and a\nmocking one of his angry and unsuccessful foes.\n\n\nHereward in Cornwall\n\nEntering into a merchant-ship, he sailed for Cornwall, and there was\ntaken to the court of King Alef, a petty British chief, who, on true\npatriarchal lines, disposed of his children as he would, and had\nbetrothed his fair daughter to a terrible Pictish giant, breaking off,\nin order to do it, her troth-plight with Prince Sigtryg of Waterford,\nson of a Danish king in Ireland. Hereward was ever chivalrous, and\nlittle Alftruda had made him feel pitiful to all maidens. Seeing\nspeedily how the princess loathed her new betrothed, a hideous,\nmisshapen wretch, nearly eight feet high, he determined to slay him.\nWith great deliberation he picked a quarrel with the giant, and killed\nhim the next day in fair fight; but King Alef was driven by the\nthreats of the vengeful Pictish tribe to throw Hereward and his man\nMartin into prison, promising trial and punishment on the morrow.\n\n\nHereward Released from Prison\n\nTo the young Saxon's surprise, the released princess appeared to be as\ngrieved and as revengeful as any follower of the Pictish giant, and\nshe not only advocated prison and death the next day, but herself\nsuperintended the tying of the thongs that bound the two strangers.\nWhen they were left to their lonely confinement Hereward began to\nblame the princess for hypocrisy, and to protest the impossibility of\na man's ever knowing what a woman wants. \"Who would have thought,\" he\ncried, \"that that beautiful maiden loved a giant so hideous as this\nPict? Had I known, I would never have fought him, but her eyes said\nto me, 'Kill him,' and I have done so; this is how she rewards me!\"\n\"No,\" replied Martin, \"this is how\"; and he cut Hereward's bonds,\nlaughing silently to himself. \"Master, you were so indignant with the\nlady that you could not make allowances for her. I knew that she must\npretend to grieve, for her father's sake, and when she came to test\nour bonds I was sure of it, for as she fingered a knot she slipped a\nknife into my hands, and bade me use it. Now we are free from our\nbonds, and must try to escape from our prison.\"\n\n\nThe Princess Visits the Captives\n\nIn vain, however, the master and man ranged round the room in which\nthey were confined; it was a tiny chapel, with walls and doors of\ngreat thickness, and violently as Hereward exerted himself, he could\nmake no impression on either walls or door, and, sitting sullenly down\non the altar steps, he asked Martin what good was freedom from bonds\nin a secure prison. \"Much, every way,\" replied the servant; \"at least\nwe die with free hands; and I, for my part, am content to trust that\nthe princess has some good plan, if we will only be ready.\" While he\nwas speaking they heard footsteps just outside the door, and the sound\nof a key being inserted into the lock. Hereward beckoned silently to\nMartin, and the two stood ready, one at each side of the door, to make\na dash for freedom, and Martin was prepared to slay any who should\nhinder. To their great surprise, the princess entered, accompanied by\nan old priest bearing a lantern, which he set down on the altar step,\nand then the princess turned to Hereward, crying, \"Pardon me, my\ndeliverer!\" The Saxon was still aggrieved and bewildered, and replied:\n\"Do you now say 'deliverer'? This afternoon it was 'murderer,\nvillain, cut-throat.' How shall I know which is your real mind?\" The\nprincess almost laughed as she said: \"How stupid men are! What could I\ndo but pretend to hate you, since otherwise the Picts would have slain\nyou then and us all afterwards, but I claimed you as my victims, and\nyou have been given to me. How else could I have come here to-night?\nNow tell me, if I set you free will you swear to carry a message for\nme?\"\n\n[Illustration: Hereward and the Princess]\n\n\nSigtryg Ranaldsson of Waterford\n\n\"Whither shall I go, lady, and what shall I say?\" asked Hereward.\n\"Take this ring, my ring of betrothal, and go to Prince Sigtryg, son\nof King Ranald of Waterford. Say to him that I am beset on every side,\nand beg him to come and claim me as his bride; otherwise I fear I may\nbe forced to marry some man of my father's choosing, as I was being\ndriven to wed the Pictish giant. From him you have rescued me, and I\nthank you; but if my betrothed delays his coming it may be too late,\nfor there are other hateful suitors who would make my father bestow my\nhand upon one of them. Beg him to come with all speed.\" \"Lady, I will\ngo now,\" said Hereward, \"if you will set me free from this vault.\"\n\n\nHereward Binds the Princess\n\n\"Go quickly, and safely,\" said the princess; \"but ere you go you have\none duty to fulfil: you must bind me hand and foot, and fling me, with\nthis old priest, on the ground.\" \"Never,\" said Hereward, \"will I bind\na woman; it were foul disgrace to me for ever.\" But Martin only\nlaughed, and the maiden said again: \"How stupid men are! I must\npretend to have been overpowered by you, or I shall be accused of\nhaving freed you, but I will say that I came hither to question you,\nand you and your man set on me and the priest, bound us, took the key,\nand so escaped. So shall you be free, and I shall have no blame, and\nmy father no danger; and may Heaven forgive the lie.\"\n\nHereward reluctantly agreed, and, with Martin's help, bound the two\nhand and foot and laid them before the altar; then, kissing the\nmaiden's hand, and swearing loyalty and truth, he turned to depart.\nBut the princess had one question to ask. \"Who are you, noble\nstranger, so gallant and strong? I would fain know for whom to pray.\"\n\"I am Hereward Leofricsson, and my father is the Earl of Mercia.\" \"Are\nyou that Hereward who slew the Fairy Bear? Little wonder is it that\nyou have slain my monster and set me free.\" Then master and man left\nthe chapel, after carefully turning the key in the lock. Making their\nway to the shore, they succeeded in getting a ship to carry them to\nIreland, and in course of time reached Waterford.\n\n\nPrince Sigtryg\n\nThe Danish kingdom of Waterford was ruled by King Ranald, whose only\nson, Sigtryg, was about Hereward's age, and was as noble-looking a\nyouth as the Saxon hero. The king was at a feast, and Hereward,\nentering the hall with the captain of the vessel, sat down at one of\nthe lower tables; but he was not one of those who can pass unnoticed.\nThe prince saw him, distinguished at once his noble bearing, and asked\nhim to come to the king's own table. He gladly obeyed, and as he drank\nto the prince and their goblets touched together he contrived to drop\nthe ring from the Cornish princess into Sigtryg's cup. The prince saw\nand recognised it as he drained his cup, and, watching his\nopportunity, left the hall, and was soon followed by his guest.\n\n\nHereward and Sigtryg\n\nOutside in the darkness Sigtryg turned hurriedly to Hereward, saying,\n\"You bring me a message from my betrothed?\" \"Yes, if you are that\nPrince Sigtryg to whom the Princess of Cornwall was affianced.\" \"Was\naffianced! What do you mean? She is still my lady and my love.\" \"Yet\nyou leave her there unaided, while her father gives her in marriage to\na hideous giant of a Pict, breaking her betrothal, and driving the\nhapless maiden to despair. What kind of love is yours?\" Hereward said\nnothing yet about his own slaying of the giant, because he wished to\ntest Prince Sigtryg's sincerity, and he was satisfied, for the prince\nburst out: \"Would to God that I had gone to her before! but my father\nneeded my help against foreign invaders and native rebels. I will go\nimmediately and save my lady or die with her!\" \"No need of that, for I\nkilled that giant,\" said Hereward coolly, and Sigtryg embraced him in\njoy and they swore blood-brotherhood together. Then he asked: \"What\nmessage do you bring me, and what means her ring?\" The other replied\nby repeating the Cornish maiden's words, and urging him to start at\nonce if he would save his betrothed from some other hateful marriage.\n\n\nReturn to Cornwall\n\nThe prince went at once to his father, told him the whole story, and\nobtained a ship and men to journey to Cornwall and rescue the\nprincess; then, with Hereward by his side, he set sail, and soon\nlanded in Cornwall, hoping to obtain his bride peaceably. To his grief\nhe learnt that the princess had just been betrothed to a wild Cornish\nleader, Haco, and the wedding feast was to be held that very day.\nSigtryg was greatly enraged, and sent a troop of forty Danes to King\nAlef demanding the fulfilment of the troth-plight between himself and\nhis daughter, and threatening vengeance if it were broken. To this\nthreat the king returned no answer, and no Dane came back to tell of\ntheir reception.\n\n[Illustration: Hereward and Sigtryg]\n\n\nHereward in the Enemy's Hall\n\nSigtryg would have waited till morning, trusting in the honour of the\nking, but Hereward disguised himself as a minstrel and obtained\nadmission to the bridal feast, where he soon won applause by his\nbeautiful singing. The bridegroom, Haco, in a rapture offered him any\nboon he liked to ask, but he demanded only a cup of wine from the\nhands of the bride. When she brought it to him he flung into the empty\ncup the betrothal ring, the token she had sent to Sigtryg, and said:\n\"I thank thee, lady, and would reward thee for thy gentleness to a\nwandering minstrel; I give back the cup, richer than before by the\nkind thoughts of which it bears the token.\" The princess looked at\nhim, gazed into the goblet, and saw her ring; then, looking again, she\nrecognised her deliverer and knew that rescue was at hand.\n\n\nHaco's Plan\n\nWhile men feasted Hereward listened and talked, and found out that the\nforty Danes were prisoners, to be released on the morrow when Haco was\nsure of his bride, but released useless and miserable, since they\nwould be turned adrift blinded. Haco was taking his lovely bride back\nto his own land, and Hereward saw that any rescue, to be successful,\nmust be attempted on the march. Yet he knew not the way the bridal\ncompany would go, and he lay down to sleep in the hall, hoping that\nhe might hear something more. When all men slept a dark shape came\ngliding through the hall and touched Hereward on the shoulder; he\nslept lightly, and awoke at once to recognise the old nurse of the\nprincess. \"Come to her now,\" the old woman whispered, and Hereward\nwent, though he knew not that the princess was still true to her\nlover. In her bower, which she was soon to leave, Haco's sorrowful\nbride awaited the messenger.\n\n\nRescue for Haco's Bride\n\nSadly she smiled on the young Saxon as she said: \"I knew your face\nagain in spite of the disguise, but you come too late. Bear my\nfarewell to Sigtryg, and say that my father's will, not mine, makes me\nfalse to my troth-plight.\" \"Have you not been told, lady, that he is\nhere?\" asked Hereward. \"Here?\" the princess cried. \"I have not heard.\nHe loves me still and has not forsaken me?\" \"No, lady, he is too true\na lover for falsehood. He sent forty Danes yesterday to demand you of\nyour father and threaten his wrath if he refused.\" \"And I knew not of\nit,\" said the princess softly; \"yet I had heard that Haco had taken\nsome prisoners, whom he means to blind.\" \"Those are our messengers,\nand your future subjects,\" said Hereward. \"Help me to save them and\nyou. Do you know Haco's plans?\" \"Only this, that he will march\nto-morrow along the river, and where the ravine is darkest and forms\nthe boundary between his kingdom and my father's the prisoners are to\nbe blinded and released.\" \"Is it far hence?\" \"Three miles to the\neastward of this hall,\" she replied. \"We will be there. Have no fear,\nlady, whatever you may see, but be bold and look for your lover in the\nfight.\" So saying, Hereward kissed the hand of the princess, and\npassed out of the hall unperceived by any one.\n\n\nThe Ambush\n\nReturning to Sigtryg, the young Saxon told all that he had learnt, and\nthe Danes planned an ambush in the ravine where Haco had decided to\nblind and set free his captives. All was in readiness, and side by\nside Hereward and Sigtryg were watching the pathway from their covert,\nwhen the sound of horses' hoofs heard on the rocks reduced them to\nsilence. The bridal procession came in strange array: first the Danish\nprisoners bound each between two Cornishmen, then Haco and his unhappy\nbride, and last a great throng of Cornishmen. Hereward had taken\ncommand, that Sigtryg might look to the safety of his lady, and his\nplan was simplicity itself. The Danes were to wait till their\ncomrades, with their guards, had passed through the ravine; then while\nthe leader engaged Haco, and Sigtryg looked to the safety of the\nprincess, the Danes would release the prisoners and slay every\nCornishman, and the two parties of Danes, uniting their forces, would\nrestore order to the land and destroy the followers of Haco.\n\n\nSuccess\n\nThe whole was carried out exactly as Hereward had planned. The\nCornishmen, with Danish captives, passed first without attack; next\ncame Haco, riding grim and ferocious beside his silent bride, he\nexulting in his success, she looking eagerly for any signs of rescue.\nAs they passed Hereward sprang from his shelter, crying, \"Upon them,\nDanes, and set your brethren free!\" and himself struck down Haco and\nsmote off his head. There was a short struggle, but soon the rescued\nDanes were able to aid their deliverers, and the Cornish guards were\nall slain; the men of King Alef, never very zealous for the cause of\nHaco, fled, and the Danes were left masters of the field. Sigtryg had\nin the meantime seen to the safety of the princess, and now placing\nher between himself and Hereward, he escorted her to the ship, which\nsoon brought them to Waterford and a happy bridal. The Prince and\nPrincess of Waterford always recognised in Hereward their deliverer\nand best friend, and in their gratitude wished him to dwell with them\nalways; but he knew \"how hard a thing it is to look into happiness\nthrough another man's eyes,\" and would not stay. His roving and daring\ntemper drove him to deeds of arms in other lands, where he won a\nrenown second to none, but he always felt glad in his own heart, even\nin later days, when unfaithfulness to a woman was the one great sin of\nhis life, that his first feats of arms had been wrought to rescue two\nmaidens from their hapless fate, and that he was rightly known as\nHereward the Saxon, the Champion of Women.\n\n\n\n\nGLOSSARY AND INDEX\n\n\nIn the following Index no attempt is made to indicate the exact\npronunciation of foreign names; but in the case of those from the\nAnglo-Saxon a rough approximation is given, as being often essential\nto the reading of the metrical versions. In these indications the\nletters have their ordinary English values; [)e] indicates the very\nlight, obscure sound heard in the indefinite article in such a phrase\nas \"with a rush.\"\n\n\nA\n\n ABLOEC. See Anlaf\n\n ACHILLES. His sulks, 184;\n Cuchulain, \"the Irish,\" 184\n\n ADEON. Son of Eudav; grandson of Caradoc, 49\n\n AGE. See Golden Age\n\n AILILL. King of Connaught, husband of Queen Meave; to decide claims\n to title of Chief Champion, 189;\n seeks aid of Fairy People of the Hills, 193\n\n AILMAR. King of Westernesse, 290;\n welcomes and adopts Childe Horn, 291;\n Princess Rymenhild, daughter of, 292;\n dubs Horn knight, 297;\n hears of Horn's first exploit, 299;\n Fikenhild betrays Horn and Rymenhild to, 300;\n Horn returns to, 304;\n reluctantly gives his daughter to Horn, 308;\n Horn leaves Rymenhild to his care, 308, 309\n\n AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. Wondrous springs of, 125;\n Charlemagne at, 155\n\n ALEF. King of Cornwall; Hereward at court of, 343;\n casts Hereward into prison, 343;\n his daughter releases Hereward, 344, 345;\n Sigtryg sends forty Danes to, 348\n\n ALFTRUDA. Ward of Edward the Confessor, 339;\n Hereward's first meeting with, 339;\n rescues from Fairy Bear, 340, 341;\n Hereward takes farewell of, 342\n\n ALICE OF CLOUDESLEE. Wife of William of Cloudeslee, 227;\n outlaw husband visits, 227, 228;\n rescued from burning house, 232;\n thanks Adam Bell and Clym for delivering her husband, 240;\n appointed chief woman of bedchamber to the royal children, 246\n\n ALL-FATHER. Praised for Beowulf's victory over Grendel, 18\n\n ALTO-BIS-CA'R. Song of (a forgery), 120\n\n ANGLESEY. Same as Mona, 47\n\n ANGLO-SAXON NOBILITY. Hereward the ideal of, 334, 335\n\n ANGLO-SAXON TIMES. Legends regarding Constantine during, 42\n\n AENGUS THE EVER-YOUNG. Irish people and wrath of, 158\n\n ANLAF. Same as Olaf, or Sihtricson; known to Welsh as Abloec or\n Habloc; romantic stories concerning, 73\n\n ANSEIS, DUKE OF. Mortally wounded, 143\n\n ARABIA. Physicians from, with remedies for Constantine's leprosy, 65\n\n ARMAGH. Capital of Ulster; Cuchulain and Emer dwell at, 186;\n King Conor and heroes return to, 190;\n heroes return to, 195\n\n ARNOLDIN, SIR. Cousin of Athulf; helps to save Rymenhild, 312;\n King Ailmar nominates as his heir, 313\n\n ARTHUR, KING. Uncle of Sir Gawayne, 265;\n Christmas kept at Carlisle by, 266;\n Guenever, queen of, 266;\n uncle of Sir Gareth and Sir Mordred, 266;\n damsel requests a boon of, 267;\n his journey to Tarn Wathelan, and fight with giant, 269;\n humiliated by the giant and released on certain conditions, 270;\n his search for the answer to the giant's question, 270-272;\n learns it from the loathly lady, 272;\n the ransom paid to giant, 273;\n the loathly lady demands a young and handsome knight for husband\n for helping, 274;\n Sir Gawayne offers to pay ransom for, 275;\n summons court to hunt in greenwood near Tarn Wathelan, 276;\n rebukes Sir Kay, 277;\n his joy over his nephew's wedding with the supposed loathly lady,\n 284, 285\n\n ARTHURIAN LEGEND. Preserved by mediaeval Wales, 265\n\n ARVON. Fertile land of, searched by ambassadors of Maxen Wledig,\n 47-49\n\n ASBRAND. Brother of Biargey, 113;\n helps Howard against Thorbiorn, 115\n\n ASCHERE (ask-her[)e]). One of King Hrothgar's thanes, carried off by\n Grendel's mother, 21\n\n ATHELBRUS. King Ailmar's steward, to train Childe Horn to be a\n knight, 291, 292;\n induces Athulf to personate Horn, 293;\n sends Horn to Princess Rymenhild, 294;\n land of King Modi committed to care of, 313\n\n ATHELSTAN. King of England; kinship of Anlaf with, 73\n\n ATHELWOLD. King of England, father of Goldborough, 80;\n his death and burial, 81\n\n ATHULF. Horn's favourite companion, 287;\n personates Horn before Rymenhild, 293;\n writes to Horn on behalf of Rymenhild, 303;\n plans with Horn the rescue of Rymenhild, 308;\n his father found at Suddene, 309, 310;\n weds Reynild, 313\n\n AUDE THE FAIR. Sister of Oliver, betrothed bride of Roland, 155;\n Charlemagne promises his son Louis to, 155;\n dies of grief for Roland's loss, 155\n\n AUGUSTUS. Constantine's elevation to rank of, 64\n\n AWE, LOCH. Black Colin, Knight of, 249, 250;\n Black Colin dwells at, with wife, 250;\n Lady of, 251;\n Black Colin far away from, 254;\n Black Colin's return to, 258\n\n\nB\n\n BABYLON, EMIR OF. Marsile's vassal; defeated by Charlemagne, 154\n\n BALTIC SEA. Forefathers who dwelt on shores of, 1\n\n BANIER, SIR. A Knight of the Round Table, 266\n\n BARNESDALE. Forest in South Yorkshire, once dwelling-place of Robin\n Hood, 314, 315;\n Sir Richard of the Lea sets out for, to repay loan, 328\n\n BARTON, SIR ANDREW. Scottish hero, 248\n\n BASQUES. Attack Charlemagne, 119\n\n BATHSTEAD. Place on shores of Icefirth near where Thorbiorn lived,\n 97-118\n\n BEAN-STAN. Father of Breca, 12\n\n BEDIVERE, SIR. A Knight of the Round Table, 266\n\n BELI. Son of Manogan; Britain conquered by Maxen Wledig from, 48\n\n BELL, ADAM. Outlaw leader in forest of Englewood, 226;\n declared powerless to deliver William of Cloudeslee, 233;\n rescues William from death, 237, 238;\n visit to London to see the king, 241;\n the king pardons, 243\n\n BEO'WA. Stories of, crystallised in stories of Beowulf, 1\n\n BEO'WULF.\n 1. The poem of, 1.\n 2. Thane of Hygelac, King of Geats, 1;\n son of Ecgtheow, 6;\n nephew of King Hygelac, 6;\n grandson of Hrethel, 6;\n brought up at Geatish court, 6;\n famous swimming match with Breca, 6;\n his mighty hand-grip, 6;\n sails for Denmark to attack Grendel, 6;\n challenged by Warden of Denmark, 6;\n declares his mission to Hrothgar, 10;\n disparaged by Hunferth, 12;\n honoured by Queen Wealhtheow, 14, 20;\n struggles with Grendel, 16;\n mortally wounds Grendel, 17;\n vows to slay mother of Grendel, 23;\n does so, 26;\n carries off sword-hilt and Grendel's head, 26;\n sails to Geatland, 29;\n welcomed by King Hygelac and Queen Hygd, 29, 30;\n chief champion of Hygelac, 30;\n refuses the throne in favour of Heardred, and becomes guardian\n of, 31;\n again chosen King of Geatland, 31;\n encounters with fire-dragon, 31-39;\n recites slaying of Frankish warrior, Daghrefn, 35;\n forsaken by Geats in his encounter with the fire-dragon, 36;\n slays the dragon, 37;\n his death and funeral, 39-41\n\n BERILD. Son of King Thurston, 301;\n slain by the Saracens, 302\n\n BERNARD BROWN. Danish magistrate; protects Havelok and Goldborough,\n 88-89\n\n BER-NA'R-DO DEL CA'R-PIO. Hero in Spanish legend who defeats Roland,\n 121\n\n BERTRAM. Earl's cook who befriended Havelok, 82-83;\n marries one of Grim's daughters and becomes Earl of Cornwall, 94\n\n BIARGEY. Wife of Howard the Halt, 97;\n urges Howard to claim wergild for Olaf, 106, 107, 108;\n Howard returns to, 111;\n visits her brothers, Valbrand, Thorbrand, and Asbrand, 112, 113;\n hails Thorbiorn while out fishing, 112;\n urges Howard to seek vengeance, 113, 114\n\n BIRKABEYN. Rule of, as king over Denmark, 74;\n Swanborow and Elfleda, daughters of, and Havelok, son of, 74;\n commits Havelok to care of Jarl Godard, 75;\n death and funeral of, 75;\n Jarl Ubbe, an old friend of, 87\n\n BLACK COLIN OF LOCH AWE, 249;\n son of Sir Nigel Campbell, 249;\n Patterson, name of foster-parents, 250;\n messenger tells of new crusade, 250;\n decides to go on crusade, 251;\n his wife's grief, 251;\n touches at Edinburgh and ships at Leith, _en route_ to Holy Land,\n 253;\n his desire to see Holy Land and Holy Sepulchre, 253;\n reaches Rome, 253;\n sees Pope, 253;\n regards Pope as Vicar of Christ, 253;\n journeys to Rhodes, 253;\n takes service with Knights of St. John, 253;\n a pilgrim at Jerusalem, 253;\n letter in name of, forged by Baron MacCorquodale, 255;\n falsely reported wounded by Saracens, 255;\n hears news of wife's impending second marriage, 257;\n returns home, 258;\n welcomed by foster-mother, 259;\n disguised as a beggar, hands token to his wife, 262;\n recognised and welcomed by his wife, 262\n\n BLACK DOUGLAS. Scottish hero, 248\n\n BLACK MONK, THE. Captured by Robin Hood's followers, 330;\n high cellarer in Abbey of St. Mary, 331;\n Robin Hood confiscates his gold as repayment of loan to Sir\n Richard of the Lea, 331, 332;\n departs from greenwood, 332\n\n BLACK SAINGLAIN. One of Cuchulain's magic steeds, 191\n\n BLANCANDRIN. Vassal of King Marsile, 123;\n overtaken by Ganelon, 130;\n Ganelon and, plot Roland's destruction, 131\n\n BLAYE. Bodies of Roland, Oliver, and Turpin buried in cathedral of,\n 155\n\n BLUEMIRE. Dwelling-place of Howard the Halt, 97\n\n BOG OF ALLEN. Cathleen's messenger declared to be sick in, 177\n\n BORS, SIR. A Knight of the Round Table, 266\n\n BOURNE, HALL OF. Home of Leofric, Earl of Mercia, 336\n\n BRAND. Trusted serving-man of Thorbiorn, 97, 102\n\n BRECA. Famous swimming champion, beaten by Beowulf, 6;\n son of Beanstan, 12\n\n BRICRIU OF THE BITTER TONGUE. Compared with Thersites, 186;\n invites King Conor and Red Branch heroes to a feast, 186;\n stirs up strife among heroes of Ulster, 187, 188;\n flatters the wives of the heroes, 189, 190\n\n BRIGIT.\n 1. Of the Holy Fire; wrath of, and Irish people, 158.\n 2. Cathleen's old servant, 173\n\n BRISEIS. Achilles and his sulks concerning, 184\n\n BRITAIN. Legend of \"The Dream of Maxen Wledig\" shows importance of\n Constantine to, 42;\n ambassadors of Maxen Wledig carried to, 47;\n conquered by Maxen Wledig from Beli, son of Manogan, 48;\n given by Maxen Wledig to Eudav, 49;\n Elene summoned from, is baptized, and seeks the sacred Cross,\n 54-62;\n Constantine sent to, 63;\n Constantine proclaimed emperor of, 63\n\n BRITONS, EARLY, Greeks of Homer, and Irish Celts, racial affinity\n between, 184\n\n BRITTANY. Roland, prefect of marches of, 120\n\n BRUCE, ROBERT. Scottish hero, 248;\n Sir Nigel Campbell, adherent of, 249\n\n\nC\n\n CAERLLEON. See Caernarvon, 49\n\n CAERMARTHEN. See Caernarvon, 49\n\n CAERNARVON. Castle in land of Arvon in which Princess Helena dwelt,\n 48;\n given with castles Caerlleon and Caermarthen to Princess Helena as\n dowry, 49\n\n CAIN. Grendel, offspring of, 4\n\n CALEDONIANS. Defeated by Constantius, 63\n\n CALIDORE, SIR. Mediaeval Wales had a knight of courtesy equal to, 265\n\n CALVARY. The hill of, 58, 59, 61\n\n CAMPBELL, SIR NIGEL. Leader in Scottish Independence, 249;\n father of Black Colin, 249;\n his death, 250;\n clansmen of, accompany Black Colin to Holy Land, 252\n\n CARADOC. Father of Eudav; grandfather of Princess Helena, and of\n Princes Kynon and Adeon, 49\n\n CARLISLE. Outlaw band near town of, in Englewood Forest, 226;\n reference to sheriff of, 227;\n William of Cloudeslee goes to, 227;\n sheriff informed of William's presence at, 229;\n outlaws Adam Bell and Clym go to, 234;\n the outlaws escape from, 239;\n King Arthur keeps Christmas at, 266;\n Sir Gawayne and loathly lady wedded at, 280\n\n CATHBAD. Druid; Cuchulain's tutor, 185\n\n CATHLEEN. Irish countess; legend concerning, 156;\n antiquity of the legend, 156;\n the story, 156-183;\n her grief because of her people's famine, 161;\n prays to Virgin Mary, 163;\n Fergus, steward of, 163;\n value of her wealth, 164;\n commands Fergus to provide food for sufferers from famine, 165;\n her goodness extolled by the demons, 169;\n hears of demon traders, 172;\n tries to check traffic in souls, 174;\n visits demons, 176;\n Oona, foster-mother to, 178;\n revisits demons, 179;\n sells her soul, 179, 180;\n her death, 182\n\n CATHOLIC CHURCH. Pope, head of, 119\n\n CELION. Constantine to send to, for Bishop Sylvester, 71\n\n CELTIC LITERATURE. Spirit of mysticism in all, 156\n\n CELTS. Gospel preached to, by St. Patrick, 157;\n Irish, early Britons, and Greeks of Homer, racial affinity between,\n 184\n\n CHAMPION.\n 1. Of Erin: compared with Achilles, 184;\n Cuchulain the, his fame at age of seventeen, 185;\n Bricriu urges Laegaire to claim title of, 187;\n title to go to warrior who obtains Champion's Bit, 187;\n tests to decide claims to title of, 193, 194, 196-203;\n Uath the Stranger challenges the heroes to a test to decide\n claims to title, 199-203.\n 2. Of Women: Hereward known as, 351\n\n CHAMPION OF IRELAND. See Champion of Erin.\n\n CHAMPION'S BIT, THE, 187, 188;\n claimed by chariot-drivers of Laegaire, Conall, and Cuchulain,\n 188, 189;\n awarded by Queen Meave to Laegaire, 195;\n heroes severally claim, 195, 196;\n tests to decide claims to, 196-203\n\n CHANSON DE ROLAND. Roland and, 121;\n late version of Anglo-Norman poem, 122;\n Thorold, author of, 122\n\n CHARLEMAGNE. World-famed equivalent, 119;\n head of Roman Empire, 119;\n Roland, nephew of, 119;\n expedition into Spain, 119;\n receives an embassage from Marsile, 124;\n calls his Twelve Peers to council, 125;\n sends Ganelon to Saragossa, 128-130;\n receives through Ganelon the keys of Saragossa, 134;\n his evil dream, 134, 137;\n hears Roland's horn, 145, 146;\n hastens to the rescue, 146;\n avenges death of Roland and the Peers, 153, 154;\n his return to Aix, 155;\n his son, Louis, promised to Aude the Fair, 155\n\n CHARLES THE GREAT. King of the Franks, world-famed as Charlemagne,\n 119.\n See Charlemagne\n\n CHILDE HORN. See Horn\n\n CHOSEN PEOPLE. The Jews the, 56\n\n CHRIST. The Cross the sign of, 53;\n the Resurrection of, preached to Constantine, 53;\n Constantine's desire to find the sacred Cross, 54;\n inhabitants of Suddene who believe on, threatened with death, 287\n\n CHRISTENDOM. Enriched by treasures of the True Cross and Holy Nails,\n 62\n\n CHRISTIAN-S. Preach the way of life to Constantine, 53;\n the Lord of, 57;\n faith, in Iceland, 96, 97;\n law, to be driven out of Suddene by law of Mahomet, 287\n\n CHURCH OF ROME. Constantine's generosity to, 42\n\n CHURCHMEN. Beaten and battered by Gamelyn, 217\n\n CINDERELLA. Root idea of, similar to \"Gamelyn,\" 204\n\n CLYM OF THE CLEUGH. Outlaw leader in forest of Englewood, 226;\n declared powerless to deliver William of Cloudeslee, 233;\n his stratagem to save William of Cloudeslee, 234;\n rescues William from death, 238;\n visits London to see the king, 241;\n the king pardons, 243\n\n COLIN, BLACK. See Black Colin, 249\n\n COMALA. Hero in Gaelic Highland poems, 248\n\n CONALL CEARNACH. Cuchulain's cousin, a Red Branch chief, 187;\n urged to claim title of Chief Champion, 187;\n awarded Champion's Portion, 195;\n claim tested by Curoi, 196-203;\n disgraced by Uath, 201\n\n CONFESSIO AMANTIS. Early English poem, by \"the moral Gower,\" 42;\n story told in, of Constantine's true charity, 64\n\n CONNAUGHT. Ailill, King of, 189;\n heroes sent to Cruachan in, 190\n\n CONOR. King of Ulster, 185;\n Cuchulain, nephew of, 185;\n Dechtire, sister of, 185;\n invited with the heroes of Red Branch to a feast by Bricriu, 186;\n received with court at Dundrum by Bricriu, 188\n\n CONQUEROR, WILLIAM THE. Cause of England being laid at feet of, 338\n\n CONSTANTINE III. King of Scotland; marriage of Anlaf with daughter\n of, 73\n\n CONSTANTINE THE GREAT. Emperor of Rome; renown in mediaeval England,\n 42;\n Cynewulf's poem, \"Elene,\" written on the subject of his conversion,\n 42;\n his vision of the Holy Cross, 42, 50, 51;\n generosity to Church of Rome and Bishop Sylvester, 42;\n legends concerning, 42;\n the only British-born Roman emperor, 49;\n his greatness provokes a confederation to overthrow him by Huns,\n Goths, Franks, and Hugas, 50;\n conquers Huns by Cross standard, 52;\n Christians preach the way of life to, 53;\n is baptized into the Christian faith, 53;\n his desire to find the sacred Cross, 54;\n sends for Elene, 54;\n ordains \"Holy Cross Day,\" 62;\n eldest son of Constantius, 63;\n sent to Britain, 63;\n proclaimed emperor, 63;\n granted title of \"Caesar,\" 64;\n marriage with Fausta, 64;\n elevation to rank of Augustus, 64;\n Emperor of Rome, 64;\n attacked by leprosy, 64;\n the remedies suggested, 65-72;\n his noble resolve, 68;\n his vision, 69-70;\n his healing, 71-72\n\n CONSTANTIUS. Emperor Maxentius hero of the Welsh saga instead of, 42;\n father of Constantine the Great, 63;\n proclaimed Emperor of Britain, 63\n\n CORNISH PRINCESS, THE. Daughter of King Alef, affianced to Prince\n Sigtryg, 343, 344, 345, 346;\n Haco betrothed to, 347, 348;\n receives token from Hereward, 348;\n reveals Haco's plans to Hereward, 349;\n rescued from Haco, 350;\n guards, all slain, 351;\n wedded by Sigtryg, 351\n\n CORNWALL. Godrich, Earl of, 80;\n Bertram made Earl of, 94;\n Hereward sails for, 343;\n Alef, King of, 343;\n Sigtryg and Hereward sail for, 347\n\n COVENTRY. Lady Godiva's ride through, 335\n\n CRESCENT. Cross exalted above the, 253\n\n CROSS. The Holy, Constantine's vision of, 42, 50, 51;\n Romans conquer Huns by, 52;\n the people awed by the standard of the, 53;\n Constantine's desire to find the sacred, 54;\n Elene's quest after, 54-62;\n secret place of, revealed by Judas, 61;\n \"Holy Cross Day\" ordained, 62\n\n CRUACHAN. Conor sends heroes to Ailill at, 190;\n Good People's Hill at, 193;\n heroes bid farewell to court at, 195\n\n CRUSADE-S. Reference to, 249;\n Black Colin receives tidings of one about to be set on foot, 250;\n Black Colin decides to go on, 251;\n story of Horn typical of romance of the, 286\n\n CUCHULAIN. Reference to Connla and, 95;\n Irish hero, 156;\n often called \"the Irish Achilles,\" 184;\n nephew of King Conor and son of Dechtire, 185;\n god Lugh, reputed father of, 185;\n champion in Ulster and all Ireland, 185;\n bride sought for, 186;\n wooes and weds Emer, daughter of Forgall the Wily, 186;\n Conall Cearnach, cousin of, 187;\n urged to claim title of Chief Champion, 188;\n Grey of Macha and Black Sainglain, magic steeds of, 191;\n awarded golden cup and Champion's Portion, 195;\n claim tested by Curoi, 196-203;\n answers Uath's tests, 202;\n acclaimed Champion of Heroes of all Ireland, 203\n\n CUROI OF MUNSTER. Failing a judgment from Ailill, to be asked to\n decide claims to title of Chief Champion, 190;\n heroes go to, to hear his judgment, 196;\n puts heroes to certain tests in order to decide claims, 196-203;\n assumes form of giant under name of Uath, the Stranger, 199-203\n\n CURTIUS. Reference to, 156\n\n CUTHBERT. Name under which Childe Horn serves King Thurston in\n Ireland, 301, 302\n\n CYNEWULF (ki'n[)e]-wulf). Early English religious poet; \"Elene,\" his\n poem on the subject of conversion of Constantine the Great,\n 42\n\n CYRIACUS. Baptismal name of Judas, 61;\n Bishop of Jerusalem, 61\n\n\nD\n\n DAGDA. Irish people and wrath of, 158\n\n DA'G-HREFN. Frankish warrior who slays Hygelac; killed by Beowulf's\n deadly hand-grip, 35\n\n DANES. Corpse of Scyld sorrowfully placed in vessel by, 2;\n feasting of, in Heorot, 4;\n slain in Heorot by Grendel, 4;\n desert Heorot, 5;\n welcome Geats and Beowulf, 10;\n rejoice over Beowulf's victory, 18-29;\n friendship with Geats, 30;\n Gospel preached to, 157;\n Prince Sigtryg sends forty to King Alef, 348;\n plan ambush for Haco, 350;\n rescue Cornish princess, 350, 351\n\n DANISH.\n 1. Occupation of England and its influence on language, &c., 73.\n 2. Invasions, hero-legends which have come down from times of, 286\n\n DANUBE. Huns overwhelmed in, 52\n\n DECHTIRE. Sister of King Conor, 185\n\n DECIUS. Reference to, 156\n\n DEMONS. Appear in Erin to buy souls, 168;\n visited by Cathleen, 176;\n revisited by her, 179;\n Cathleen sells her soul to, to ransom her people, 179;\n cheated of Cathleen's soul, 182\n\n DENMARK. Under sway of Scyld Scefing, 2;\n Scyld Scefing mysteriously comes to, as babe, 2;\n Beowulf sails to deliver King of, from Grendel, 6;\n Warden of, challenges Beowulf, 6;\n King Birkabeyn's rule over, 74;\n Godard made regent of, on behalf of Havelok, 75;\n Havelok sails from, with Grim, 80;\n Havelok's dream concerning, 86;\n Havelok's return to, and recognition as King of, 87-92\n\n DIARMUIT. Irish hero, 156\n\n DIOCLETIAN. Emperor; Constantine evades jealousy of, 63\n\n DODDERER. Horse offered as wergild by Thorbiorn to Howard, 107\n\n DOVER. Princess Goldborough imprisoned in castle of, 81;\n Hereward sails from, to Whitby, 339\n\n DUBLIN. Demons arrive at village near, 168\n\n DUNDRUM. Bricriu receives King Conor and court at, 188\n\n DUNSTAN. Monk; his saintly reputation, 335\n\n DURENDALA. Roland's famous sword, 136;\n Roland tries in vain to break, 152\n\n\nE\n\n ECGTHEOW (eg'theow). Father of Beowulf, 10;\n shielded by Hrothgar against Wilfings, 11\n\n EDINBURGH. Black Colin at, _en route_ to Holy Land, 253\n\n EDWARD.\n 1. The First: reference to war between England and Scotland during\n reign of, 249;\n 2. The Second: reference, _ibid._, 249.\n 3. The Confessor: division of England under, 335;\n Hereward at court of, 337, 338;\n banishes Hereward, 338, 339;\n Alftruda, ward of, 339\n\n EGYPT. Constantine's valour in wars in, 64;\n philosophers from, with remedies for Constantine's leprosy, 65\n\n ELECTRA. Reference to Orestes and, 95\n\n ELENA. Same as Elene and Helena, 63\n\n \"ELENE\" (el[=a]'n[)e]). Cynewulf's poem of, on the subject of\n Constantine's conversion, 42;\n summoned from Britain by Constantine, is baptized, and seeks the\n sacred Cross, 54-62.\n Same as Helena (Elena), 63\n\n ELFLEDA THE FAIR. Daughter of King Birkabeyn, 74;\n slain by Godard, 76\n\n ELY. Hereward's defence of, 334\n\n EMER. Daughter of Forgall the Wily; wooed and wedded by Cuchulain,\n 186;\n flattered by Bricriu, 189;\n flattered by Queen Meave, 195;\n adjudged by Uath to have first place among all the women of Ulster,\n 203\n\n ENGELIER THE GASCON. Mortally wounded, 143\n\n ENGLAND. Mediaeval, and Constantine the Great, 42;\n influence on language by Danish occupation, 73;\n Athelstan, King of, 73;\n Athelwold, King of, 80;\n Grim sails from Denmark to, 80;\n arrives at, in Humber (Grimsby), 81;\n Havelok's dream concerning, 86;\n Fergus journeys to, 165;\n the outlaw of mediaeval, 225;\n King of, pardons outlaws, William of Cloudeslee, &c., 243;\n war between Scotland and, 249;\n government of, during twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth\n centuries, 314;\n division of, under Edward the Confessor, 335;\n cause of being laid at Conqueror's feet, 338\n\n ENGLEWOOD. Outlaws in forest of, under Adam Bell, William of\n Cloudeslee, and Clym of the Cleugh, 226;\n outlaw band broken up, 247\n\n ERCOL. Ailill's foster-father; heroes sent to, 194\n\n ERIN. See Ireland, 157;\n demons appear in, 168;\n Champion of, compared with Achilles, 184;\n land of, searched for bride for Cuchulain, 186\n\n EUDAV. Son of Caradoc, father of Princess Helena, 49;\n Kynon and Adeon, sons of, 49\n\n EUROPE. Ruled from City of Seven Hills (Rome) by Emperor Maxen\n Wledig, 43;\n Constantine granted rule over Western, 64;\n relation between Greek and Irish literature among literatures of,\n 184\n\n EVIL ONE. Tales relating dealings with, reference to, 157;\n demons buy souls for, 168-182\n\n EXCALIBUR. King Arthur's sword, 269\n\n\nF\n\n FAIRY BEAR, THE. A white Polar bear owned by Gilbert of Ghent, 340;\n reputed kinship of, to Earl Siward, 340, 342;\n slain by Hereward, 341;\n Hereward's trick on Norman knights with, 341, 342\n\n FAIRY PEOPLE OF THE HILLS. King Ailill seeks aid of, 193\n\n FAITH. Bishop Sylvester preaches the Christian, to Constantine, 71;\n Charlemagne fights for, 119;\n Marsile to embrace the Christian, 131;\n the true, English knowledge of, 165;\n Irish sufferers tempted to revolt from, 167\n\n FALL, THE, OF MAN, 71\n\n FAUST. Legends, trend of, 157\n\n FAUSTA. Daughter of Emperor Maximian and wife of Constantine, 64\n\n FEDELM. Wife of Laegaire, 189\n\n FEN COUNTRY. Hereward, the terror of the, 336\n\n FENIANS. Champions of the, identical with Highland Gaelic heroes, 248\n\n FERGUS THE WHITE. Cathleen's steward, 163;\n foster-brother to Cathleen's grandfather, 164;\n declares value of Cathleen's wealth, 164;\n sends servant to buy food at Ulster, 165;\n journeys to England, 165;\n returns with help, 182\n\n FIKENHILD. Horn's companion next in favour to Athulf, 287;\n spies on Horn and Rymenhild, 299, 300;\n demands Rymenhild in marriage, 311;\n slain by Horn, 313\n\n FINGAL. Hero in Gaelic Highland poems, 248;\n Scotch embodiment of Finn, 248\n\n FINN. Fingal Scotch embodiment, 248\n\n FINN OF THE FRISIANS. Victory of Danes over, chanted in Heorot, 19\n\n FINNSBURG. Fight in, sung of in Heorot, 19\n\n FITELA. Son of Sigmund; glory of, chanted by Danish bard, 18\n\n FLEMINGS. Or Normans; Hereward enrolled among, to qualify for\n knighthood, 339;\n Hereward's trick on, with Fairy Bear, 341, 342\n\n FOREFATHERS. Feelings of our, embodied in \"Beowulf,\" 1\n\n FORGALL THE WILY. Cuchulain wooes Emer, daughter of, 186\n\n FRANCE. Victories of Charlemagne for, 119;\n Charlemagne sets out for, 134\n\n FRANKISH.\n 1. Warrior, Daghrefn, slays Hygelac, and is slain by Beowulf, 35.\n 2. Army marches towards Pyrenees, 134;\n arrives too late to rescue Roland, 146\n\n FRANKS. Charles the Great (Charlemagne), King of, 119;\n Saracen host encamps near, 134;\n and Moors meet in battle, 140;\n defeat the Saracens, 141;\n attacked by second Saracen army, 142;\n defeat the heathens once more, 143;\n attacked by third Saracen army, 144\n\n FRENCH LITERATURE, developing \"Roland Saga,\" 121\n\n FRIAR TUCK. See Tuck\n\n\nG\n\n GALERIUS. Constantine evades hatred of, 63;\n grants Constantine title of \"Caesar,\" 63\n\n GAMELYN. Tale of, a variant of fairy-tale \"Wicked Elder Brothers,\"\n 204;\n ultimate source, through Lodge's \"Euphues' Golden Legacy,\" of\n _As You Like It_, 204;\n literary ancestor of \"Robin Hood,\" 204;\n Sir John of the Marshes, father of, 205;\n left in charge of eldest brother, John, 206;\n resists him, 207, 208;\n victorious at wrestling match, 210, 211;\n overcomes his brother's servants, 212;\n allows himself to be chained, 213;\n released by Adam Spencer, 214, 215;\n batters the Churchmen, 217;\n puts his brother John in chains, 217;\n puts sheriff's men to flight, 218;\n goes to the greenwood, 219;\n joins the outlaws, 220;\n proclaimed a wolf's-head, 220;\n arrested, 221;\n Otho offers himself as surety, 221;\n fails to appear at court, 222, 223;\n releases Otho, 223;\n sits on judge's seat and condemns Sir John, 224;\n made chief forester by King Edward, 224;\n made Otho's heir, 224\n\n GANELON. Romance version of Danilo or Nanilo, 121;\n compared with Judas, 121;\n one of Charlemagne's Twelve Peers, 125;\n his hostility to Roland, 126;\n plots with Blancandrin the destruction of Roland, 131;\n delivers to Marsile the message of Charlemagne, 131, 132;\n swears on sacred relics the treacherous death of Roland, 134;\n delivers keys of Saragossa to Charlemagne, 134;\n deceives Charlemagne concerning sound of Roland's horn, 145, 146;\n arrested for treason, 146;\n his death as a traitor, 155;\n his name a byword in France for treachery, 155\n\n GARETH, SIR. One of King Arthur's nephews, 266\n\n GASCONS. Attack Charlemagne, 119\n\n GAUTIER, COUNT. Roland's vassal, 136\n\n GAWAYNE, SIR. King Arthur's nephew, the true Knight of Courtesy, 265;\n learns of King Arthur's adventure with the giant, 274;\n learns the price to be paid for the loathly lady's secret, 275;\n offers to pay it by marrying the loathly lady, 275;\n betroths the loathly lady, 279, 280;\n weds the loathly lady, 280;\n his choice frees the loathly lady from magic spells, 281, 283;\n the beauty of his bride, 281-285\n\n GEATISH COURT. Beowulf brought up at, 6\n\n GEATLAND. Same as Goetaland; news of Grendel's ravages reaches, 6;\n Beowulf sails to, 29;\n welcomed to shores of, 29, 30\n\n GEATS. Hygelac, King of, 1;\n Goetaland, realm of, 5;\n arrival with Beowulf at Danish shores, 7;\n friendship with Danes, 30;\n forsake Beowulf in his encounter with the fire-dragon, 36;\n their sorrow over Beowulf's death, 40-41\n\n GERIER. Peer of Charlemagne; mortally wounded, 143\n\n GERIN. Peer of Charlemagne; mortally wounded, 143\n\n GERMANY. Forefathers who dwelt in North, 1;\n Hygelac seeks conquest of his neighbours on mainland of, 5\n\n GHENT. See Gilbert\n\n GILBERT OF GHENT. Hereward's godfather, 339;\n Hereward received by, 339;\n his Fairy Bear, slain by Hereward, 340, 341;\n Hereward quits his castle, 342;\n Hereward takes farewell of, 343\n\n GLENURCHY. Glen belonging to MacGregors, given to Sir Nigel Campbell,\n 249;\n Black Colin inherits, 250;\n Lady of, grieves over her husband's departure on crusade, 251;\n Baron MacCorquodale's land borders, 256;\n Black Colin's return to, 258;\n new castle built with rents of, 264\n\n GOD. The Unknown, reverenced by Constantine, 51;\n the people awed by the token of the Unknown, 53;\n worship of the True, 157;\n famine cools love for, 167\n\n GODARD, JARL. Counsellor and friend of King Birkabeyn, 75;\n Havelok committed to care of, 75;\n regency over Denmark, 75;\n his cruelty, 76-78;\n his treachery disclosed and punished by death, 91-92\n\n GODHILD. Queen of Suddene, King Murry's consort, the mother of Horn,\n 286;\n hears of husband's death and flees, 288\n\n GODIVA, LADY. Wife of Leofric, Earl of Mercia, 335;\n her famous ride through Coventry, 335;\n Hereward, second son of, 336\n\n GODRICH. Earl of Cornwall, regent for Princess Goldborough, 80;\n his rule, 81;\n imprisons Princess Goldborough out of jealousy, 81;\n attends sports at Lincoln, 83;\n hears of Havelok's skill and strength, 83;\n enforces a marriage between Havelok and Goldborough, 84;\n captured, tried as a traitor, and burnt at the stake, 93-94\n\n GODWIN. Earl of Kent, 335;\n Lady Gytha, wife of, 335;\n intercedes on behalf of Hereward, 338;\n Hereward bids farewell to, 339\n\n GOLDBOROUGH. English princess, daughter of King Athelwold; orphaned,\n 80;\n Earl Godrich regent for, 80;\n imprisoned in Dover Castle, 81;\n forced to wed Havelok, 84;\n learns in a dream of Havelok's royal birth, 86;\n crowned Queen of England, 94\n\n GOLDEN AGE. Forefathers cherished lifetime of ancestors as, 1\n\n GOeTALAND. Realm of Geats, in south of Sweden, 5.\n See Geatland, 7\n\n GOTHS. Form a confederation with the Huns, Franks, and Hugas to\n overthrow Constantine, 50\n\n GOWER, \"THE MORAL.\" Early English poet; his poem \"Confessio Amantis\"\n and Constantine's conversion, 42;\n story told in \"Confessio Amantis\" of Constantine's true charity, 64\n\n GREECE. Philosophers from, with remedies for Constantine's leprosy,\n 65\n\n GREEK-S. Elene touches at land of, 56;\n literature, relation of, to Irish literature, 184;\n of Homer, early Britons, and Irish Celts, racial affinity between,\n 184\n\n GRENDEL. A loathsome fen-monster, 3;\n enmity aroused by the feasting at Heorot, 4;\n slays and devours Danes in Heorot, 4;\n master of Heorot, 5;\n Beowulf determines to attack, 6;\n struggles with Beowulf in Heorot, 16;\n worsted by Beowulf, 17;\n mother of, avenges his death, 21\n\n GREY OF MACHA. Cuchulain's best-beloved horse, 191\n\n GRIM. Legendary hero whose loyalty secured privileges to Grimsby,\n 74;\n Godard's thrall, 77;\n ordered to drown Havelok, 77;\n saves and maintains Havelok, 79-82;\n sails from Denmark to England, 80;\n sends Havelok to Lincoln, 82;\n his death, 85;\n his three sons, Robert the Red, William Wendut, and Hugh the\n Raven, 87\n\n GRIMSBY. The town of Grim, 74;\n Havelok at fish-market of, 82;\n battle near, between Havelok and Godrich, 93\n\n GUDRUN. Reference to Siegfried and, 95\n\n GUENEVER, QUEEN. Wife of King Arthur, 266;\n dreads magic arts during husband's absence, 274;\n learns of King Arthur's adventure with the giant, 274;\n welcomes the loathly lady at court, 280\n\n GUEST, THE WISE. Sister of, marries Thorbiorn, 103;\n Howard seeks at the Thing, 108, 109, 110;\n his judgment against Thorbiorn, 110, 111;\n removes his sister from Thorbiorn, 111;\n gives judgment at Thing against Howard, 118\n\n GYTHA, LADY. Wife of Godwin, Earl of Kent, 335\n\n\nH\n\n HABLOC. Welsh name for Havelok, 73\n\n HACO. Cornish leader; betrothed to the Cornish princess, 347;\n Cornish princess reveals plans of, to Hereward, 349;\n ambush planned for, 350;\n slain by Hereward, 350\n\n HAROLD. Son of King Thurston, 301;\n slain by the Saracens, 302\n\n HART, THE. See Heorot, 3\n\n HASTINGS. Battle of, and \"Song of Roland,\" 122\n\n HATHCYN. Son of King Hrethel, brought up with Beowulf; slays his\n brother, Herebeald, 34;\n slain himself by Swedes, 35\n\n HAUTECLAIRE. Oliver's sword, 141\n\n HAVELOK THE DANE. Legend of, 73;\n Anlaf, equivalent, 73;\n hero of the strong arm, in mediaeval England, 74;\n son of King Birkabeyn of Denmark, 74;\n committed to care of Jarl Godard, 75;\n imprisoned by Godard, 76-77;\n saved and maintained by Grim, 78-82;\n brought by Grim to England, 80;\n his feats of strength, 82-84;\n Goldborough forced to wed, 84-85;\n Grim's three sons accompany to Denmark, 87;\n aided by Jarl Ubbe, 88-93;\n Ubbe recognises as heir to throne of Denmark, and renders homage\n to, 90-91;\n acknowledged King of Denmark, 92;\n and of England, 94\n\n HEALFDENE (ha'lf-d[=a]n[)e]). Father of King Hrothgar, 9\n\n HEARDRED (ha'rd-red). Son of Hygelac and Hygd; succeeds his father,\n 31;\n his death, 31\n\n HECTOR. Reference to death of, 95\n\n HELENA. British princess; marriage with Constantine glorified in\n \"Mabinogion,\" 42;\n hailed as Empress of Rome, 48, 49;\n receives three castles as dowry, Caernarvon, Caerlleon, and\n Caermarthen, 49;\n mother of Constantine the Great, 63\n\n HELL. The purchase of souls for, 170-183;\n Cathleen sells her soul to, 179\n\n HENGEST. Deeds of, chanted in Heorot, 19\n\n HEOROT (hyo'r-[)o]t). Hall built by Hrothgar, 3;\n same as \"The Hart,\" 3;\n enmity of Grendel to, 4;\n feasting of Danes in, 4;\n Danes slaughtered in, by Grendel, 4;\n deserted by Danes, 5;\n Grendel master of, 5;\n Geats proceed to, 9;\n feast in, to welcome Beowulf, 12;\n Grendel and Beowulf struggle in, 16;\n Grendel's mother enters and carries off Aschere, 21\n\n HEREBEALD (he'r[)e]-bald). Son of King Hrethel, brought up with\n Beowulf, 34\n\n HEREWARD. One of the famous outlaws, 225;\n the Saxon, personality real, yet surrounded by cloud of romance,\n 334;\n the ideal of Anglo-Saxon chivalry, as Roland of Norman, 334;\n second son of Leofric and Godiva, 336;\n terror of Fen Country, 336;\n at court, and his conduct there, 337;\n banished as an outlaw, 338, 339;\n his farewell, 338, 339;\n his first meeting with Alftruda, 339;\n goes to his godfather, Gilbert of Ghent, 339;\n enrolled among Flemings to qualify for knighthood, 339;\n his encounter with the Fairy Bear, 340, 341;\n rescues Alftruda, 341;\n his trick on the Norman knights, 341, 342;\n leaves Northumbria, 342;\n takes farewell of Alftruda, 342;\n takes farewell of Gilbert of Ghent, 343;\n sails for Cornwall, 343;\n at court of King Alef, 343;\n kills the Pictish giant, 343;\n imprisoned by King Alef, 343;\n released by King Alef's daughter, 344, 345;\n sails for Ireland, 346;\n sails for Cornwall with Prince Sigtryg, 347;\n obtains admission to Haco's bridal feast, 348;\n learns Haco's plans, 349;\n slays Haco and helps to rescue Cornish princess, 350, 351;\n known as Hereward the Saxon, the Champion of Women, 351\n\n HEROD. Constantine declared more cruel than, 67\n\n HET-WARE, THE. Expedition against, 31, 34\n\n HIGHLANDS. Gaelic, old ballads, heroes in, 248;\n ballads, merely versions of Irish Gaelic hero-legends, 248;\n Irish Gaelic hero-legends carried from Erin to, 248\n\n HILDEBURH, QUEEN. Deeds of, chanted in Heorot, 19\n\n HNAEF (n[)a]f). Deeds of, chanted in Heorot, 19\n\n HOLY CROSS. Constantine's vision of, 42, 50, 51;\n his desire to find, 54;\n Elene's quest after, 54-62;\n Judas confesses to knowledge of sacred truth of, 57;\n Judas refuses to reveal place of, at first, but is prevailed upon\n by starvation, 58, 59;\n the \"Day\" of, ordained, 62\n\n HOLY INNOCENTS. Constantine declared more cruel than Herod, who\n killed the, 67\n\n HOLY LAND. Black Colin receives tidings of fresh crusade in, 250;\n sets out for, 252;\n Black Colin's desire to see, 253\n\n HOLY NAILS. Obtained by Elene, 61;\n given to Constantine, 62\n\n HOLY ROOD. King Arthur vows by, 268;\n giant forces him to swear by, 270\n\n HOLY SEPULCHRE. Black Colin's desire to see, 253\n\n HOLY TREE. See Holy Cross\n\n HOMER. Greeks of, early Britons, and Irish Celts, racial affinity\n between, 184\n\n HOOD, ROBIN. See Robin Hood\n\n HORN. His story originally a story of Viking raids, 286;\n son of King Murry and Queen Godhild, 286, 308;\n Athulf, and next Fikenhild, his favourite companions, 287;\n captured by Saracens, 288;\n cast adrift upon the sea, 288, 289;\n lands on shore of Westernesse, 289;\n questioned by King of Westernesse, 290;\n adopted by King Ailmar, 291;\n Athelbrus trains as a knight, 291, 292;\n loved by Princess Rymenhild, 292;\n Athulf personates before Princess Rymenhild, 293;\n welcomed to Rymenhild's bower, and hears her declaration of love,\n 294, 295;\n dubbed knight, 297;\n his first exploit, 298;\n spied on by Fikenhild, 299, 300;\n banished by King Ailmar, 300;\n sails for Ireland, 301;\n serves King Thurston under name of Cuthbert, 301;\n slays the giant emir, 301, 302;\n King Thurston offers his kingdom and daughter to, 302;\n receives letter from Rymenhild, 304;\n reveals his identity to King Thurston and implores his help, 304;\n returns to Westernesse, accompanied by Irish knights, 304;\n in disguise, visits Rymenhild's wedding feast, 305;\n his stratagem to test Rymenhild's love, 306, 307;\n the fictitious death of, 307;\n reveals his identity to Rymenhild, 307;\n arranges with Athulf to deliver Rymenhild, 308;\n weds Rymenhild, 308;\n reconquers Suddene, 310;\n finds his mother, 310, 311;\n crowned King of Suddene, 311;\n warned in dream of Rymenhild's danger, 311;\n his return to Westernesse, 311, 312;\n slays Fikenhild, 313;\n dwells at Suddene with Rymenhild, 313\n\n HOWARD THE HALT. Popular Icelandic saga, 96;\n famous Viking, 97;\n Biargey, wife of, 97;\n Olaf, son of, 97;\n upbraids Olaf, 100;\n removes from Bathstead, 103;\n mourns Olaf's death, 106;\n claims wergild for Olaf, 106-111;\n sheltered by Steinthor, 108, 109;\n urged by Biargey to seek vengeance, 106, 107, 113;\n seeks help of Valbrand, 114;\n slays Thorbiorn, 116;\n sheltered by Steinthor, 117;\n judgment of Thing against, 118;\n his nephews exiled, 118\n\n HRETHEL (rethel). Father of Hygelac and grandfather of Beowulf, 6;\n Beowulf and the king's sons, Herebeald, Hathcyn, and Hygelac, 34;\n Beowulf recites his death, 35\n\n HRETHRIC (re'th-ric). Son of Hrothgar; succeeds his father, 31\n\n HROTHGAR (roth'g[=a]r). Great-grandson of Scyld, 2;\n builds the hall Heorot, or \"The Hart,\" 3;\n grief of, over Grendel's fierce ravages, 4;\n champions offer aid to, 5;\n Geats conducted to, 8;\n son of Healfdene, 9;\n Wealhtheow, wife of, 14;\n rejoices over Beowulf's victory, 18-29;\n Aschere, thane of, carried off by Grendel's mother, 21;\n grief of, over loss of Aschere, 22;\n succeeded by his son Hrethric, 31\n\n HRUNTING (runting). Hunferth's sword, lent Beowulf for the purpose\n of attacking Grendel's mother, 23-25\n\n HUGAS. See Huns, 50\n\n HUGH THE RAVEN. Youngest son of Grim; accompanies Havelok to\n Denmark, 87\n\n HUMBER. Grim arrives in, 81\n\n HUNFERTH. Hrothgar's orator, jealous of Beowulf, 12;\n lends Beowulf his sword, Hrunting, 23, 24\n\n HUNS. Form a confederation with the Goths, Franks, and Hugas to\n overthrow Constantine, 50;\n Romans conquer by Cross standard, 52\n\n HYGD. Wife of King Hygelac; hails Beowulf's return to Geatland,\n 29, 30;\n offers crown to Beowulf, 31\n\n HYGELAC (h[=e]'g[)e]-lac). King of Geats, 1;\n son of King Hrethel, 5, 34;\n brother-in-law of Ecgtheow, 6;\n uncle of Beowulf, 6;\n hails Beowulf's return to Geatland, 29, 30;\n Beowulf chief champion of, 30;\n slain in expedition against the Hetware, 31;\n succeeded by his son, Heardred, 31;\n brought up with brothers, Herebeald and Hathcyn, and Beowulf, 34\n\n\nI\n\n ICEFIRTH. Thorbiorn in, 97\n\n ICELAND. Christian faith in, 96, 97\n\n ICELANDIC.\n 1. Saga, \"Howard the Halt,\" 96.\n 2. Ghosts, reference to, 96\n\n INNIS EOALAN. The Lady of Loch Awe builds a castle on ruins of White\n House on, 257\n\n INNOCENTS, HOLY. Constantine declared more cruel than Herod, who\n killed the, 67\n\n IRELAND. Characteristics common to people of, 156;\n known in olden Europe as \"Isle of Saints,\" 157;\n Gospel preached to people of, 157;\n High King of, convinced of truth of Trinity, 157;\n strife in, 158;\n famine in, 159-183;\n famine tempts people to revolt from the True Faith, 167;\n demons arrive in, 168;\n Cuchulain without fear among the champions of, 185;\n Horn at, 301-304;\n Horn touches at, on way to Suddene, 313;\n Sigtryg, son of a Danish king, in, 343;\n Hereward sails for, 346\n\n IRISH. Relation of literature, to Greek literature, 184;\n Celts, early Britons, and Greeks of Homer, one stock, 184;\n heroes, and legends concerning, 248\n\n ISLE OF SAINTS. See Ireland, 157\n\n ITALY. Claims Roland in guise of Orlando, Orlando Furioso, Orlando\n Innamorato, 121\n\n\nJ\n\n JERUSALEM. The place where Christ suffered, 54;\n Elene's quest in, to find the sacred Cross, 54-62;\n Constantine and Elene build a glorious church in, 61;\n Cyriacus (Judas) Bishop of, 61;\n messenger to Black Colin familiar with all holy places in, 250;\n Black Colin as a pilgrim at, 253\n\n JESUS CHRIST. The Cross the sign of, 53;\n the Resurrection and Ascension of, preached to Constantine, 53\n\n JEWS. Elene's quest to land of, to find sacred Cross, 55-58;\n the Chosen People, 56;\n summoned, but dismissed in peace, by Elene, 58\n\n JOHN.\n 1. Son of Sir John of the Marshes, 205;\n Gamelyn left in charge of, 206;\n Gamelyn resists, 207, 208;\n his great feast, 216;\n put in chains by Gamelyn, 217;\n proclaims Gamelyn a wolf's-head, 220;\n his death by hanging, 224.\n 2. Little. See Little John\n\n JOSEPH and his brethren, \"Gamelyn,\" a version of story of, 204\n\n JUDAEA. See Jerusalem\n\n JUDAS. Grandson of Zacchaeus; confesses to knowledge of secret truth\n of Holy Tree, 57;\n refuses at first to disclose the secret place of the Holy Cross,\n but is prevailed upon by starvation, 58, 59;\n baptismal name Cyriacus, 61;\n Ganelon compared with, 121\n\n JUDGMENT, DAY OF, 71\n\n JULIUS CAESAR and early Britons, 184\n\n\nK\n\n KAY, SIR. Steward of King Arthur's household, 266;\n jeers at loathly lady, 277\n\n KENT. Earldom of, held by Godwin, 335\n\n KERRY. Champions drive to, 196\n\n KILCHURN CASTLE. New castle built with rents of Glenurchy, 264\n\n KNIGHT OF COURTESY. The true, is Sir Gawayne, King Arthur's nephew,\n 265\n\n KNIGHT OF LOCH AWE. Equivalent, Black Colin Campbell, 249\n\n KYNON. Son of Eudav, grandson of Caradoc, 49\n\n\nL\n\n LADY OF GLENURCHY. Grief of, 251;\n the gold ring token, 252;\n wooed by Baron MacCorquodale, 254-257;\n receives forged letter, 255;\n her stratagem to delay her marriage, 256;\n builds a castle on ruins of White House on Innis Eoalan, 256, 257;\n recognises and welcomes her husband, 262\n\n LADY OF LOCH AWE. Same as Lady of Glenurchy, 251\n\n LAE-GAI'RE. Bricriu urged to claim title of, 187;\n Fedelm, wife of, 189;\n awarded Champion's Portion by Queen Meave, 195;\n claim tested by Curoi, 196-203;\n disgraced by Uath, 201\n\n LANCELOT, SIR. A Knight of the Round Table, 266\n\n LEA, SIR RICHARD OF THE. Stranger guest of Robin Hood's, 323\n\n LEITH. Black Colin takes ship at, for Holy Land, 253\n\n LENDABAIR. Conall's wife, 189\n\n LEOFRIC. Earl of Mercia, 335;\n Lady Godiva, wife of, 335;\n Hereward, second son of, 336;\n Hall of Bourne, home of, 336;\n his wrath kindled against Hereward, 337;\n asks for writ of outlawry against Hereward, 338;\n Hereward bids farewell to, 339\n\n LEOFRICSSON, HEREWARD. See Hereward\n\n LEVE (l[=a]v[)e]). Wife of Grim the fisherman, 78\n\n LIGHTFOOT, MARTIN. Hereward's follower who accompanied him into\n exile, 339;\n assists Hereward in his trick on Norman knights, 341, 342;\n cast into prison by King Alef, 343;\n released by King Alef's daughter, 344, 345\n\n LINCOLN. Grim carries fish to, 81;\n Havelok goes to, 82;\n Havelok becomes porter, 82;\n Havelok's fame in, 83;\n Godrich summons his army to, against Havelok, 93;\n Godrich's trial and death at, 94\n\n LITTLE JOHN. One of Robin Hood's followers, 315;\n searches the stranger knight's coffer, 319;\n counts out four hundred pounds to stranger guest, 322, 323;\n acts as squire to Sir Richard of the Lea, 323-327\n\n LOATHLY LADY, THE, and King Arthur, 271-274;\n demands of King Arthur a young and handsome knight for husband,\n as price of her help, 274;\n Sir Gawayne offers to wed, 275;\n Sir Kay jeers at, 277;\n her betrothal to Sir Gawayne, 279;\n her marriage with Sir Gawayne, 280;\n set free from magic spells, 281-285\n\n LOCH AWE. See Awe, Loch\n\n LONDON. Visit to, of William of Cloudeslee and fellow outlaws, 241\n\n LOUIS. Charlemagne's son, Count of the Marshes, promised to Aude the\n Fair, 155\n\n LUGH OF THE LONG HAND. Great god, reputed father of Cuchulain, 185\n\n\nM\n\n MABINOGION. A series of Welsh legends; glorifies marriage of British\n princess Helena and Constantine, 42\n\n MACCORQUODALE, BARON. Wooes the Lady of Loch Awe, 254-257;\n his stratagem of a forged letter, 255;\n hears of Black Colin's return, 263\n\n MACGREGORS. Expelled from Glenurchy, 249\n\n MAHOMET. Saracens declare determination to win land of Suddene\n according to law of, 287;\n faith of, thrown off by Saracens for the true faith, 310\n\n MAIRI. Old widow in whose house the demon traders lived, 173\n\n MARSILE. King of Moors; defies Charlemagne, 122;\n idols of, 122;\n Blancandrin's advice to, 123;\n sends an embassage to Charlemagne, 124;\n offers to become a Christian, 124-126;\n Ganelon sent to, with Charlemagne's terms, 130;\n Ganelon's reception by, 131, 132;\n takes counsel with leaders, 132;\n swears on the book of Law of Mahomet the treacherous death of\n Roland, 134;\n pursues the Frankish army, 137;\n Roland slays only son of, 147;\n mortally wounded, he returns to Saragossa, 147;\n his death, 154\n\n MARTIN. See Lightfoot\n\n MASSES. Of the Father, of the Holy Spirit, of Our Lady, heard daily\n by Robin Hood, 315\n\n MAXEN WLEDIG. \"The Dream of,\" preserved in the \"Mabinogion,\" 42-49;\n Emperor of Rome, 43;\n expedition down the Tiber, 43;\n his vision near Rome, 43;\n his vision declared, 44-47;\n ambassadors sent out to find the maiden of his dream, 47, 48;\n journeys himself to land of Arvon, 48, 49;\n conquers Britain from Beli, son of Manogan, 48;\n weds Helena, daughter of Eudav, 49;\n Constantine, son of, the only British-born Emperor of Rome, 49\n\n MAXENTIUS. Emperor; hero of Welsh saga \"Mabinogion,\" 42\n\n MAXIMIAN. The Emperor; father of Fausta, who became Constantine's\n wife, 64\n\n MEAD. Dwelling-place of Guest the Wise, 103\n\n MEAVE. Queen of Connaught, wife of King Ailill; to decide claims to\n title of Chief Champion, 189;\n pronounces judgment, 195\n\n MERCIA. Earldom of, held by Leofric, 335\n\n MODI. King of Reynes; wooes Rymenhild, 303;\n slain by Horn, 308;\n land of, committed to care of Sir Athelbrus, 313\n\n MONA. Sacred isle of; same as Anglesey; ambassadors of Maxen Wledig\n view, 47\n\n \"MONTJOIE! MONTJOIE!\" Battle cry of Franks, under Roland, 140, 142,\n 148\n\n MOORS. Rulers of, and Charlemagne, 119;\n and Franks meet in battle, 140\n\n MORDRED, SIR. One of King Arthur's nephews, 266\n\n MOST HIGH. Grendel outcast from mercy of, 4\n\n MUCH. One of Robin Hood's followers, 315;\n assists to count out gold for stranger guest, 323\n\n MURRY. King of Suddene, 286;\n Queen Godhild consort of, 286;\n Horn, son of, 286;\n attacked and slain by Saracens, 287, 288\n\n\nN\n\n NAESI. Irish hero, 156\n\n NAILS, THE HOLY. Obtained by Elene, 61;\n given to Constantine, 62\n\n NAIMES, DUKE. One of Charlemagne's Twelve Peers, 126, 136, 137;\n urges Charlemagne to hasten to rescue of Roland, 146\n\n NORMAN ENGLAND. Royal authority in, how asserted, 314\n\n NORMANS. Or Flemings; Hereward enrolled among, to qualify for\n knighthood, 339;\n Hereward's trick on, with Fairy Bear, 341, 342\n\n NORSE influence in connection with story of \"King Horn,\" 286\n\n NORSEMEN. Firm hold of blood-feud on imagination of, 96\n\n NORTH COUNTRY. Equivalent, Ulster, 165\n\n NORTH SEA. Forefathers who dwelt on shores of, 1;\n ambassadors of Maxen Wledig reach, 47\n\n NORTHUMBRIA. Inheritance of Anlaf, 73;\n writ of outlawry against Hereward only of nominal weight in, 339;\n Earl Siward ruler in, 339;\n Hereward leaves, 342\n\n NOTTINGHAMSHIRE. The Sheriff of, and Robin Hood, 315\n\n\nO\n\n ODIN. The raven, the bird of, 115\n\n OISIN. Scotch embodiment of Ossian, 248\n\n OLAF.\n 1. Same as Anlaf, &c., 73.\n 2. Son of famous Viking, Howard the Halt, 97;\n finds Thorbiorn's lost sheep, 98-100;\n kills a wizard, 101;\n second fight with the wizard's ghost, 102;\n wooes Sigrid, 99, 103;\n meets Thorbiorn, 103-106;\n his death, 106;\n Howard claims wergild for, 106-111;\n wergild awarded for, 118\n\n OLIFANT. Roland's horn, 138;\n blown by Roland, 145, 146;\n Roland's dying blast on, 149\n\n OLIVER. One of Charlemagne's Twelve Peers, 125, 136;\n descries the Saracens and proclaims Ganelon's treason, 138;\n appeals to Roland to blow his horn, 138;\n Hauteclaire, sword of, 141;\n objects to Roland blowing his horn, 144;\n mortally wounded by Marsile's uncle, 148;\n under misapprehension, strikes Roland with Hauteclaire, 148;\n his death, 148, 149;\n avenged by Charlemagne, 153, 154\n\n OONA. Cathleen's foster-mother, 178;\n her vision, 182\n\n ORCHY. River, running through Glenurchy, 249\n\n ORESTES. Reference to Electra and, 95\n\n ORLANDO, ETC. Italy claims Roland in guise of, 121\n\n OSSIAN. Hero in Gaelic Highland poems, 248;\n Scotch embodiment of Oisin, 248\n\n OTHO. Son of Sir John of the Marshes, 205;\n becomes surety for Gamelyn, 221;\n arrested owing to failure of Gamelyn to appear at court, 223;\n released by Gamelyn, 223;\n sits on judge's seat with Gamelyn and condemns Sir John, 224;\n appointed sheriff by King Edward I., 224;\n makes Gamelyn his heir, 224\n\n OUR LADY. Robin Hood accepts her surety for four hundred pounds lent\n to stranger guest, 322;\n the Black Monk and the suretyship, 331-333\n\n OUTLAWS. Famous: Hereward, Robin Hood, William of Cloudeslee, 226;\n pardoned by king, 243;\n rules of, in case of Robin Hood, 316;\n their feast, 317, 318, 330\n\n\nP\n\n PAMPELUNA. Taken by Charlemagne, 119\n\n PARADISE. Cathleen's soul in, 182\n\n PATTERSON. Name of foster-parents of Black Colin, 250\n\n PEERS. Of France, 125, 136;\n the champions of the Moors challenge the Twelve, of France, 137;\n of Charlemagne, triumph over Marsile's twelve champions, 141;\n their death, 143-153;\n avenged by Charlemagne, 153, 154\n\n PENELOPE. Lady of Loch Awe turns to guile, as did, 256\n\n PEOPLE OF THE HILLS. Cuchulain's friends among, 198, 199\n\n PERSIA. Constantine's valour in wars in, 64;\n physicians from, with remedies for Constantine's leprosy, 65\n\n PETER AND PAUL. The Apostles; appear in a vision to Constantine,\n 70, 71\n\n PICTISH GIANT. King Alef's daughter betrothed to, 343;\n slain by Hereward, 343\n\n PLANTAGENETS. England under, 314\n\n POPE. Head of Holy Catholic Church, 119;\n proclaims Holy War at Rome, 251;\n sees Black Colin, 253;\n regarded by Black Colin as Vicar of Christ on earth, 253\n\n PRIAM. Reference to lament of, 95\n\n PYRENEES. Charlemagne's march through passes of, 119;\n Frankish army marches toward, 134\n\n\nR\n\n RANALD. King of Waterford, 345, 346;\n Prince Sigtryg, son of, 345;\n Hereward at feast of, 346, 347\n\n RANALDSSON, SIGTRYG. See Sigtryg\n\n RED BRANCH. Heroes of, invited to feast by Bricriu, 186;\n heroes return to, 199;\n Uath, the Stranger, comes to, 199;\n heroes of, and Uath, the Stranger, 199-203;\n champions of, identical with Highland Gaelic heroes, 248\n\n REYNES. Modi, King of, 303;\n wooes Rymenhild, 303, 304\n\n REYNILD. Daughter of King Thurston; offered to Horn, 302;\n weds Sir Athulf, 313\n\n RHINE. Black Colin's journey up, 253\n\n RHODES. Black Colin journeys to, 253;\n supposed news from, by man of Black Colin's band, 255\n\n RICHARD, SIR, OF THE LEA, Robin Hood's stranger-guest, 317-324;\n Robin Hood's loan to, 322-324;\n his land in Uterysdale, 323;\n redeems his land from Abbot of St. Mary's, 324-327;\n sets out to repay loan, 328;\n defends the right at a wrestling contest, 328;\n arrives before Robin Hood to repay loan, but is exempt, 333;\n returns to Uterysdale, 333;\n his power used to protect the outlaws, 333\n\n ROBERT THE RED. Eldest son of Grim; accompanies Havelok to Denmark,\n 87\n\n ROBIN HOOD. Romantic sympathy with, 225;\n one of the famous outlaws, 226;\n the original, 314;\n forest of Barnesdale at one time his dwelling-place, 314, 315;\n Sherwood Forest, headquarters of, 315;\n Little John, Will Scarlet, and Much, his three most loyal\n followers, 315;\n three Masses heard by, 315;\n sends his followers to Watling Street, 316;\n his outlaw rules, 316;\n stranger guest brought to, 317;\n lends stranger guest four hundred pounds, 322;\n sends his followers again to Watling Street, 329;\n his followers capture and bring to greenwood, as guest, the Black\n Monk, 330;\n appropriates gold of the Black Monk as payment of loan to Sir\n Richard of the Lea, 331, 332;\n exempts Sir Richard from repayment of four hundred pounds, 333;\n dwells securely in the greenwood under Sir Richard's protection,\n 333\n\n ROLAND. Charlemagne's nephew; fame of, in romance, 119;\n historical basis of legend of, 120;\n in Spanish legend, 121;\n \"Saga\" in French literature, 121;\n \"Chanson de Roland\" and, 121;\n one of the Twelve Peers, 125;\n destruction plotted by Blancandrin and Ganelon, 131, 134;\n plants his banner on topmost summit of Pyrenees, 134;\n appointed to command rearguard, 135;\n appealed to by Oliver to blow his horn, 138;\n his army defeats Saracens, 141;\n defeats second Saracen army, 143;\n attacked by third Saracen army, 144;\n willing to blow horn, but Oliver objects, 144;\n blows Olifant, 145, 146;\n Charlemagne hastens to rescue of, but arrives too late, 146;\n slays only son of Marsile, 147;\n smitten by Oliver in mistake, 148;\n set upon by four hundred Saracens, 150;\n realising death near, he tries to destroy sword Durendala, 152;\n his death, 153;\n avenged by Charlemagne, 153, 154\n\n ROMAN EMPIRE. Charlemagne head of, 119\n\n ROMANS. Conquer Huns by the Cross standard, 52\n\n ROME. Church of, Constantine's generosity to, 42;\n Maxen Wledig seeks rest near, 43, 46;\n Princess Helena hailed Empress of, 48, 49;\n Constantine calls a council of all wisest men in, 53;\n Black Colin's messenger just home from, 251;\n Holy War proclaimed by Pope at, 251;\n Black Colin reaches, 253;\n Black Colin's supposed letter from, 255\n\n RONCESVALLES. Roland's glory from, 119;\n celebrated in \"Song of Altobiscar,\" 120;\n Spain claims part of honour of, 120;\n the battle of, 140-153\n\n RONCEVAUX. Same as Roncesvalles, 122\n\n ROUND TABLE. Knights of, 266\n\n RYMENHILD. Princess, daughter of King Ailmar;\n loves Horn, 292;\n Athulf personates Horn before, 293;\n welcomes Horn in her bower and declares her love, 294;\n wishes Horn good success as knight, 298;\n gives token to Horn, 298;\n spied on by Fikenhild, 299, 300;\n wooed by King Modi, 303;\n writes to Horn through Athulf, 303;\n Horn at wedding-feast of, 305;\n Horn's stratagem to test her love, 306, 307;\n her knight and lover, Horn, restored, 307;\n wedded to Horn, 308;\n left to her father's care, 309;\n demanded in marriage by traitor, Fikenhild, 311;\n delivered by Horn, 313;\n dwells at Suddene as queen, 313\n\n\nS\n\n SAMSON. Peer of Charlemagne; mortally wounded, 143\n\n SARACEN-S. Host, encamps near Franks, 134;\n pursue the Frankish army, 137;\n chiefs vow to slay Roland, 137;\n defeat of, by Roland's army, 141;\n second army attacks Roland, 142;\n defeated once more, 143;\n third army attacks Roland, 144;\n their rule in the Holy Land, 251;\n Horn's hatred of, typical of romance of Crusades, 286;\n attack and slay King Murry, 287, 288;\n Horn's victory over, 298;\n Suddene purged of, by Horn, 310\n\n SARAGOSSA. Charlemagne repulsed at, 119;\n decided to send Ganelon to, as ambassador, 128;\n Charlemagne's threat to take, 132;\n Charlemagne receives through Ganelon the keys of, 134;\n captured by Charlemagne, 154\n\n \"SARN HELEN.\" Roman roads in Wales connecting Helena's three castles\n known as, 49\n\n SAXON ENGLAND. The maintenance of justice in, 314\n\n SAXON-S. Hereward the, 334;\n the darling hero of the, 334;\n Anglo-, chivalry, Hereward the ideal of, 334, 335;\n Hereward the, known as the Champion of Women, 351\n\n SCARLET, WILL. Cousin to and one of Robin Hood's followers, 315\n\n SCOTLAND. Hero-myths of, 248;\n national heroes of Lowland, actual, not mythical, 248;\n war between England and, 249\n\n SCOTTISH INDEPENDENCE. Sir Nigel Campbell one of leaders in cause\n of, 249\n\n SCYLD SCEFING (skild ske'f-ing). Founder of Scyldings dynasty, 2;\n coming to and passing from Denmark, 2;\n Hrothgar, great-grandson of, 2\n\n SEVEN HILLS. Rome, the City of, 43;\n Maxen Wledig, emperor, rules Europe from, 43\n\n SHERWOOD, FOREST OF. Headquarters of Robin Hood, 315\n\n SIEGFRIED. Gudrun and, in \"Nibelungenlied,\" 95\n\n SIGMUND. Father of Fitela; glory of, chanted by Danish bard, 18\n\n SIGRID. Thorbiorn's housekeeper, 97;\n loved by Olaf, 99;\n quits Thorbiorn's service, 103;\n disappearance of, 106\n\n SIGT-RYG RANALDSSON. Prince of Waterford; his troth-plight with King\n Alef's daughter, 343;\n son of King Ranald, 345;\n Hereward's mission to, 345-347;\n sails for Cornwall to rescue his love, 347;\n sends forty Danes to demand fulfilment of troth-plight, 348;\n Sigtryg and Danes plan ambush for Haco, 350;\n rescues, and marries, Cornish princess, 350, 351\n\n SI'HT-RIC-SON. Same as Anlaf, Abloec, &c., 73\n\n SIR JOHN OF THE MARSHES. Noble gentleman who lived in Lincolnshire,\n in reign of Edward I., 204, 205;\n father of John, Otho, and Gamelyn, 205;\n his death, 206\n\n SI-WARD, EARL. Ruler in Northumbria, 339;\n reputed kinship to Fairy Bear, 340, 342\n\n SNOWDON. Mountainous land of, reached by ambassadors of Maxen\n Wledig, 47\n\n SOCACH. Black Colin's foster-parents' dwelling-place, 250\n\n SOULS. The traffic in, during Irish famine, 170-183;\n Cathleen tries to check traffic in, 174\n\n SPAIN. Charlemagne's expedition into, 119;\n begins to quit, 134;\n returns to, to rescue Roland, 146\n\n SPANISH LEGEND. Bernardo del Carpio and Roland in, 121\n\n SPENCER.\n 1. Adam, steward in household of Sir John, releases Gamelyn,\n 214, 215.\n 2. Edmund, reference to his Red Cross Knight, 265\n\n STEINTHOR OF ERE. Great chieftain who shelters Howard, 108, 109,\n 117;\n speaks on Howard's behalf at the Thing, 118\n\n ST. JOHN, KNIGHTS OF. Black Colin takes service with, 253;\n Grand Master of, 253\n\n ST. MARY. Abbey of, in York, lands of stranger knight in pledge to\n Abbot of, 321;\n land redeemed by Sir Richard of the Lea, 324-327;\n the Black Monk high cellarer in Abbey of, 331\n\n ST. PATRICK. Preached Gospel to people of Ireland, 157\n\n SUDDENE. King Murry and Queen Godhild, and son Horn, the royal\n family of, 286;\n Horn sails for, to wrest from Saracens, 309;\n Athulf's father found at, 309, 310;\n Horn reconquers, 310;\n a Christian realm once more, 311;\n Horn crowned king of, 311\n\n SWANBOROW. Daughter of King Birkabeyn, 74;\n slain by Godard, 76\n\n SWEDEN. Goetaland, realm of Geats in south of, 5\n\n SWEDES. Slay Hathcyn, son of King Hrethel, 35\n\n SWITZERLAND. Black Colin and Highland clansmen pass through, 253\n\n SYLVESTER. Bishop of Rome; and Constantine, 42;\n Constantine told in a vision to send for, 70;\n preaches the Christian faith to Constantine, 71\n\n\nT\n\n TAILLEFER. \"Song of Roland\" and, 122\n\n TARA. Black stone of, 157\n\n TARN WATHELAN. Giant in castle near, ill-treats maiden, 267;\n King Arthur's journey to, and fight with giant who lived in Castle\n of, 269, 270;\n King Arthur summons court to hunt near, 276;\n the churlish knight of, set free from magic spells, 284\n\n TEUTONIC NORTH. Beowulf famous throughout, 5\n\n THERSITES. Compared with Bricriu of the Bitter Tongue, 186\n\n THING. Howard at the, 107, 108, 117, 118\n\n THOR-BIORN. Mighty chief on shores of Icefirth, 97;\n Vakr, nephew of, 97;\n Olaf and sheep of, 98-100;\n whale unjustly adjudged to, 102;\n marries sister of Guest, 103;\n Sigrid leaves, 103;\n meets Olaf, 103-106;\n Warflame, magic sword of, 104-106;\n thrusts Olaf with Warflame, 106;\n Howard claims wergild from, 106-111;\n Guest's judgment against, 110, 111;\n hailed by Biargey while out fishing, 112;\n slain by Howard, 116\n\n THOR-BRAND. Brother of Biargey, 113;\n helps Howard against Thorbiorn, 115\n\n THOR-DIS. Mother of Vakr; sends second son to assist in fight\n against Olaf, 105\n\n THOR-KEL. Lawman and arbitrator of Icefirth, 97;\n his false decree concerning a whale, 102\n\n THOR-OLD. Same as Turoldus; author of \"Song of Roland,\" 122\n\n THURSTON. King of Ireland; served by Horn, 301;\n Harold and Berild, sons of, 302;\n offers kingdom and his daughter Reynild to Horn, 302;\n Horn discloses his identity to, 304\n\n TIBER. Hunting expedition down, by Maxen Wledig, 43\n\n TIR-NAN-OG. The land of never-dying youth, 163\n\n TREE, THE HOLY. See Holy Cross\n\n TRINITY. Truth of, demonstrated by shamrock-leaf, 157\n\n TROJAN WAR. An ancient story, yet well known, 58\n\n TUCK, FRIAR. Masses sung by, for Robin Hood, 318\n\n TURPIN. Archbishop of Charlemagne, one of Twelve Peers, 125, 136;\n blesses the knights, 139, 140;\n mediates between Roland and Oliver, 145;\n mortally wounded, 149;\n his death, 150, 151\n\n\nU\n\n UATH, THE STRANGER. Giant who tests champions, 199-203;\n adjudges Cuchulain Champion of Heroes of all Ireland, 203\n\n UBBE (ub-b[)e]). Danish jarl, friend of King Birkabeyn; befriends\n Havelok and Goldborough, 87-93;\n appointed Regent of Denmark for Havelok, 94\n\n ULSTER. Fergus commanded to buy food at, 165;\n Conor, King of, 185;\n Cuchulain peer among champions of, 185;\n Armagh, capital of, 186;\n Red Branch heroes, royal bodyguard of, 186;\n Bricriu stirs up strife among champions of, 187, 188\n\n UNKNOWN GOD. Constantine's acceptance and reverence of the, 51;\n the people awed by token of, 53\n\n UTERYSDALE. Land of Sir Richard of the Lea in, 323;\n Sir Richard redeems the land, 324-327;\n Sir Richard returns to, 333\n\n\nV\n\n VAKR. Thorbiorn's nephew, 97;\n mocks Olaf, 100;\n jeers at Brand the Strong, 102, 103;\n accompanies Thorbiorn to meet Olaf, 103-106;\n Thordis, mother of, 105;\n his miserable end, 116\n\n VALBRAND. Brother of Biargey, 112, 113;\n visited by Howard, 114\n\n VALTIERRA. Charlemagne retires to, on way to France, 134\n\n VEILLANTIF. Roland's steed, 136;\n slain by Saracens, 150\n\n VICAR OF CHRIST on earth, Black Colin regards Pope as, 253\n\n VIKINGS. Gospel preached to, 157\n\n VIRGIN MARY. Cult of, 121;\n Cathleen invokes, 163;\n Cathleen's people invoke, 181\n\n\nW\n\n WALES. Old Roman roads in, that connected Helena's three castles\n still known as \"Sarn Helen,\" 49;\n legend of Havelok the Dane thought to have originated in, 73;\n mediaeval, Arthurian legend preserved by, 265\n\n WALLACE, SIR WILLIAM. Scottish hero, 248;\n schoolfellow and comrade of Sir Nigel Campbell, 249\n\n WARDEN. Of the coast of Denmark, welcomes Beowulf, 6;\n conducts Geats to Heorot, 8;\n Wulfgar, one of Hrothgar's nobles, greets Beowulf, 9;\n of Geatland, welcomes Beowulf's return, 29\n\n WARFLAME. Magic sword, owned by Thorbiorn, and by which he himself\n is slain by Howard, 115, 116\n\n WASHERS OF THE FORD. Wrath of, and Irish people, 158\n\n WATERFORD. Prince Sigtryg of, his troth-plight with daughter of King\n Alef, 343;\n Ranald, King of, 345;\n Hereward reaches, 346;\n Prince and Princess of, Hereward the best friend of, 351\n\n WATLING STREET. Robin Hood sends his followers to, 316;\n a year later sends followers once more to, 329\n\n WEALHTHEOW (wal-thyow), QUEEN. Wife of Hrothgar; honours Beowulf,\n 14, 20\n\n WELSH.\n 1. Legends, \"Mabinogion\" and \"The Dream of Maxen Wledig,\" 42;\n Celtic features in, 185.\n 2. Saga, hero of, Emperor Maxentius, 42\n\n WEOHSTAN (wyo-stan). Father of Wiglaf, who supported Beowulf in his\n fight with the fire-dragon, 36\n\n WEST. Constantine a favourite of Roman soldiery of the, 63;\n Roman soldiery of the, proclaim Constantine emperor, 63;\n the fictitious wanderings of Horn in realms of, 307\n\n WESTERN ISLES. Irish Gaelic hero-legends carried to, from Erin, 248\n\n WESTERNESSE. Childe Horn lands on shore of, 289;\n Ailmar, King of, questions Horn, 290;\n Horn returns to, accompanied by Irish knights, 304;\n recital of the fictitious plans of Horn to reach, within seven\n years, 307\n\n WHITBY. Hereward lands at, 339\n\n WIG-LAF. Son of Weohstan; supports Beowulf in his fight with the\n fire-dragon, 36-41\n\n WILF-INGS. Hrothgar shields Ecgtheow from, 11\n\n WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLEE. One of the famous outlaws of England, 226\n\n WILLIAM TELL. William of Cloudeslee the, of England, 226;\n Alice, wife of, 227;\n goes to Carlisle, 227;\n sheriff informed of his presence, 229;\n attacked by sheriff and his men, 231;\n capture of, 232;\n sheriff sentences to be hanged, 232;\n news of his sentence conveyed to the greenwood, 233;\n Clym's stratagem to save, 234;\n rescued from death, 237, 238;\n visits London to see king, 241;\n the king pardons, 243;\n shoots apple from son's head, 245, 246;\n receives royal favours from king and queen, 246\n\n WILLIAM WENDUT. Second son of Grim; accompanies Havelok to Denmark,\n 87\n\n WINCHESTER. Godrich takes Goldborough from, to Dover, 81\n\n WLEDIG. See Maxen Wledig\n\n WOMEN, CHAMPION OF. Hereward known as, 351\n\n WYRD (weird). Goddess of Fate, 13, 34\n\n\nY\n\n YORK. Archbishop of, unites in marriage Havelok and Goldborough, 85;\n Abbot of St. Mary's Abbey, in, 321\n\n YORKSHIRE. Barnesdale, forest in, once dwelling-place of Robin Hood,\n 314, 315\n\n YULETIDE. King Arthur's knights keep, 267\n\n\nZ\n\n ZACCHAEUS. Grandfather of Judas, 57\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nMinor typographic errors in punctuation have been corrected without\nnote. Hyphen inconsistencies have been corrected without note where\nthere was a prevalence of one formation over another.\n\nThere is some variation in spelling, sometimes of proper names, often\nbetween the main text and quoted texts, and a number of archaic words.\nThese remain as printed, unless they were an obvious typographic\nerror, which were amended as follows:\n\n Page 48--need amended to heed--\"... that when their\n horses failed they gave no heed, but took others ...\"\n\n Page 73--crystalized amended to crystallized--\"These\n stories finally crystallized in a form ...\"\n\n Page 84--Havelock amended to Havelok--\"... and so, in\n great fear, Havelok agreed to the wedding.\"\n\n Page 233--vension amended to venison--\"... William had\n given the boy many a dinner of venison, ...\"\n\n Page 338--Whereever amended to Wherever--\"\"Wherever fate\n and my fortune lead me,\" ...\"\n\n Page 355--7 amended to 74--\"... and Havelok, son of, 74;\"\n\n Page 358--o amended to of--\"... Daughter of King Alef,\n affianced to Prince Sigtryg ...\"\n\n Page 359--Alaf amended to Alef--\"Prince Sigtryg sends\n forty to King Alef, 348;\"\n\n Page 362--Niger amended to Nigel--\"Glen belonging to\n MacGregors, given to Sir Nigel Campbell, 249;\"\n\n Page 366--Herebald amended to Herebeald--\"brought up\n with brothers, Herebeald and Hathcyn ...\"\n\n Page 372--missio nto amended to mission to--\"Hereward's\n mission to, 345-347;\"\n\n Page 375--332 amended to 232--\"... capture of, 232;\"\n\nThere were some instances of omitted text; these were all checked\nagainst another edition of the text, and, in the case of the omitted\npage references, cross-checked against this edition, and repaired as\nfollows:\n\n Page 347--omitted word (marriage) inserted at the end of\n the section just prior to \"Return to Cornwall\"--\"... he\n would save his betrothed from some other hateful\n marriage.\"\n\n Page 368--the entry for London had no page number\n reference; 241 inserted.\n\n Page 370--the entry for Priam had no page number\n reference; 95 inserted.\n\nThe frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page.\nOther illustrations have been moved so that they are near the text\nthey refer to. Some of the illustration captions have the artist's\nname included, some do not; these are all reproduced as printed.","title":"Hero-Myths & Legends of the British Race","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":119053}