{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_33152/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_33152","id":"gutenberg_33152","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33152","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Romance","Category: Short Stories","Tales"],"text":"Produced by Al Haines\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Cover art]\n\n\n\n\n\n[Frontispiece: SLAGFID PURSUES THE WRAITH. _See p._ 60.]\n\n\n\n\n\nTALES OF ROMANCE\n\n\n  BASED ON TALES IN THE\n  BOOK OF ROMANCE EDITED\n  BY ANDREW LANG\n\n\n\nWITH 4 COLOURED PLATES AND 15 OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS\n  By H. J. FORD AND LANCELOT SPEED\n\n\n\n_NEW IMPRESSION_\n\n\n\nLONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.\n\n39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON\n\nFOURTH AVENUE & 30TH STREET, NEW YORK\n\nBOMBAY, CALCUTTA, AND MADRAS\n\n1919\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nThe Story of Robin Hood\n\nWayland the Smith\n\nSome Adventures of William Short Nose\n\nThe Sword Excalibur\n\nHow Grettir the Strong Became an Outlaw\n\nDeath of Grettir the Strong\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\nCOLOURED PLATES.\n\nSlagfid pursues the Wraith over the Mountain . . . . . . _Frontispiece_\n\nThe Chariot of Freya\n\nAlix kisses Rainouart\n\nArthur meets the Lady of the Lake and gets the Sword Excalibur\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT.\n\nRobin Hood's meeting with Little John\n\nThe Knight repays the Four Hundred Pounds\n\nWhen the Sheriff saw his own vessels, his appetite went from him\n\nFriar Tuck upsets Robin Hood\n\n\"There is pith in your arm,\" said Robin Hood\n\nRobin Hood shoots his Last Arrow\n\nThe Three Women by the Stream\n\nWayland mocked by the Queen and Banvilda\n\nThe Merman warns Banvilda in vain\n\nVivian's Last Confession\n\nThe Captives--William Short Nose rides to the Rescue\n\nThe Lady Alix stays the wrath of William Short Nose\n\nThe Lady Gibourc with Rainouart in the Kitchen\n\nRainouart stops the Cowards\n\nGrettir overthrows Thorir Redbeard\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ROBIN HOOD.\n\n\nPART I.\n\nMany hundreds of years ago, when the Plantagenets were kings, England\nwas so covered with woods, that a squirrel was said to be able to hop\nfrom tree to tree from the Severn to the Humber.\n\nIt must have been very different to look at from the country we travel\nthrough now; but still there were roads that ran from north to south\nand from east to west, for the use of those who wished to leave their\nhomes, and at certain times of the year these roads were thronged with\npeople.\n\nPilgrims going to some holy shrine passed along, merchants taking their\nwares to Court, Abbots and Bishops ambling by on palfreys to bear their\npart in the King's Council, and, more frequently still, a solitary\nKnight, seeking adventures.\n\nBesides the broad roads there were small tracks and little green paths,\nand these led to clumps of low huts, where dwelt the peasants,\ncharcoal-burners, and ploughmen, and here and there some larger\nclearing than usual told that the house of a yeoman was near.\n\nNow and then as you passed through the forest you might ride by a\nsplendid abbey, and catch a glimpse of monks in long black or white\ngowns, fishing in the streams and rivers that abound in this part of\nEngland, or casting nets in the fish ponds which were in the midst of\nthe abbey gardens.  Or you might chance to see a castle with round\nturrets and high battlements, circled by strong walls, and protected by\na moat full of water.\n\nThis was the sort of England into which the famous Robin Hood was born.\nWe do not know anything about him, who he was, or where he lived, or\nwhat evil deed he had done to put him beyond the King's grace.  For he\nwas an outlaw, and any man might kill him and never pay penalty for it.\n\nBut, outlaw or not, the poor people loved him and looked on him as\ntheir friend, and many a stout fellow came to join him, and led a merry\nlife in the greenwood, with moss and fern for bed, and for meat the\nKing's deer, which it was death to slay.\n\nPeasants of all sorts, tillers of the land, yeomen, and as some say\nKnights, went on their ways freely, for of them Robin took no toll; but\nlordly churchmen with money-bags well filled, or proud Bishops with\ntheir richly dressed followers, trembled as they drew near to Sherwood\nForest--who was to know whether behind every tree there did not lurk\nRobin Hood or some of his men?\n\n\nPART II.\n\nTHE COMING OF LITTLE JOHN.\n\nOne day Robin was walking alone in the wood, and reached a river which\nwas spanned by a very narrow bridge, over which one man only could\npass.  In the midst stood a stranger, and Robin bade him go back and\nlet him go over.  \"I am no man of yours,\" was all the answer Robin got,\nand in anger he drew his bow and fitted an arrow to it.\n\n\"Would you shoot a man who has no arms but a staff?\" asked the stranger\nin scorn; and with shame Robin laid down his bow, and unbuckled an\noaken stick at his side.  \"We will fight till one of us falls into the\nwater,\" he said; and fight they did, till the stranger planted a blow\nso well that Robin rolled over into the river.\n\n[Illustration: Robin Hood's meeting with Little John.]\n\n\"You are a brave soul,\" said he, when he had waded to land, and he blew\na blast with his horn which brought fifty good fellows, clad in green,\nto the little bridge.\n\n\"Have you fallen into the river that your clothes are wet?\" asked one;\nand Robin made answer, \"No, but this stranger, fighting on the bridge,\ngot the better of me, and tumbled me into the stream.\"\n\nAt this the foresters seized the stranger, and would have ducked him\nhad not their leader bade them stop, and begged the stranger to stay\nwith them and make one of themselves.  \"Here is my hand,\" replied the\nstranger, \"and my heart with it.  My name, if you would know it, is\nJohn Little.\"\n\n\"That must be altered,\" cried Will Scarlett; \"we will call a feast, and\nhenceforth, because he is full seven feet tall and round the waist at\nleast an ell, he shall be called Little John.\"\n\nAnd thus it was done; but at the feast Little John, who always liked to\nknow exactly what work he had to do, put some questions to Robin Hood.\n\"Before I join hands with you, tell me first what sort of life is this\nyou lead?  How am I to know whose goods I shall take, and whose I shall\nleave?  Whom I shall beat, and whom I shall refrain from beating?\"\n\nAnd Robin answered: \"Look that you harm not any tiller of the ground,\nnor any yeoman of the greenwood--no, nor no Knight nor Squire, unless\nyou have heard him ill spoken of.  But if Bishops or Archbishops come\nyour way, see that you spoil _them_, and mark that you always hold in\nyour mind the High Sheriff of Nottingham.\"\n\nThis being settled, Robin Hood declared Little John to be second in\ncommand to himself among the brotherhood of the forest, and the new\noutlaw never forgot to \"hold in his mind\" the High Sheriff of\nNottingham, who was the bitterest enemy the foresters had.\n\nRobin Hood, however, had no liking for a company of idle men about him,\nand he at once sent off Little John and Will Scarlett to the great road\nknown as Watling Street, with orders to hide among the trees and wait\ntill some adventure might come to them; and if they took captive Earl\nor Baron, Abbot or Knight, he was to be brought unharmed back to Robin\nHood.\n\nBut all along Watling Street the road was bare; white and hard it lay\nin the sun, without the tiniest cloud of dust to show that a rich\ncompany might be coming: east and west the land lay still.\n\n\nPART III.\n\nLITTLE JOHN'S FIRST ADVENTURE.\n\nAt length, just where a side path turned into the broad highway, there\nrode a Knight, and a sorrier man than he never sat a horse on summer\nday.  One foot only was in the stirrup, the other hung carelessly by\nhis side; his head was bowed, the reins dropped loose, and his horse\nwent on as he would.  At so sad a sight the hearts of the outlaws were\nfilled with pity, and Little John fell on his knees and bade the Knight\nwelcome in the name of his master.\n\n\"Who is your master?\" asked the Knight.\n\n\"Robin Hood,\" answered Little John.\n\n\"I have heard much good of him,\" replied the Knight, \"and will go with\nyou gladly.\"\n\nThen they all set off together, tears running down the Knight's cheeks\nas he rode, but he said nothing, neither was anything said to him.  And\nin this wise they came to Robin Hood.\n\n\"Welcome, Sir Knight,\" cried he, \"and thrice welcome, for I waited to\nbreak my fast till you or some other had come to me.\"\n\n\"God save you, good Robin,\" answered the Knight, and after they had\nwashed themselves in the stream, they sat down to dine off bread and\nwine, with flesh of the King's deer, and swans and pheasants.  \"Such a\ndinner have I not had for three weeks and more,\" said the Knight.  \"And\nif I ever come again this way, good Robin, I will give you as fine a\ndinner as you have given me.\"\n\n\"I thank you,\" replied Robin, \"my dinner is always welcome; still, I am\nnone so greedy but I can wait for it.  But before you go, pay me, I\npray you, for the food which you have had.  It was never the custom for\na yeoman to pay for a Knight.\"\n\n\"My bag is empty,\" said the Knight, \"save for ten shillings only.\"\n\n\"Go, Little John, and look in his wallet,\" said Robin, \"and, Sir\nKnight, if in truth you have no more, not one penny will I take; nay, I\nwill give you all that you shall need.\"\n\nSo Little John spread out the Knight's mantle, and opened the bag, and\ntherein lay ten shillings and naught besides.\n\n\"What tidings, Little John?\" cried his master.\n\n\"Sir, the Knight speaks truly,\" said Little John.\n\n\"Then fill a cup of the best wine and tell me, Sir Knight, whether it\nis your own ill doings which have brought you to this sorry pass.\"\n\n\"For an hundred years my fathers have dwelt in the forest,\" answered\nthe Knight, \"and four hundred pounds might they spend yearly.  But\nwithin two years misfortune has befallen me, and my wife and children\nalso.\"\n\n\"How did this evil come to pass?\" asked Robin.\n\n\"Through my own folly,\" answered the Knight, \"and because of the great\nlove I bore my son, who would never be guided of my counsel, and slew,\nere he was twenty years old, a Knight of Lancaster and his Squire.  For\ntheir deaths I had to pay a large sum, which I could not raise without\ngiving my lands in pledge to the rich Abbot of St. Mary's.  If I cannot\nbring him the money by a certain day they will be lost to me for ever.\"\n\n\"What is the sum?\" asked Robin.  \"Tell me truly.\"\n\n\"It is four hundred pounds,\" said the Knight.\n\n\"And what will you do if you lose your lands?\" asked Robin again.\n\n\"Hide myself over the sea,\" said the Knight, \"and bid farewell to my\nfriends and country.  There is no better way open to me.\"\n\nAt this tears fell from his eyes, and he turned him to depart.  \"Good\nday, my friend,\" he said to Robin, \"I cannot pay you what I should----\"\nBut Robin held him fast.  \"Where _are_ your friends?\" asked he.\n\n\"Sir, they have all forsaken me since I became poor, and they turn away\ntheir heads if we meet upon the road, though when I was rich they were\never in my castle.\"\n\nWhen Little John and Will Scarlett and the rest heard this, they wept\nfor very shame and fury, and Robin bade them fill a cup of the best\nwine, and give it to the Knight.\n\n\"Have you no one who would stay surety for you?\" said he.\n\n\"None,\" answered the Knight, \"but only Our Lady, who has never yet\nfailed to help me.\"\n\n\"You speak well,\" said Robin, \"and you, Little John, go to my treasure\nchest, and bring me thence four hundred pounds.  And be sure you count\nit truly.\"\n\nSo Little John went, and Will Scarlett, and they brought back the money.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Little John, when Robin had counted it and found it no more\nnor no less, \"look at his clothes, how thin they are!  You have stores\nof garments, green and scarlet, in your coffers--no merchant in England\ncan boast the like.  I will measure some out with my bow.\"  And thus he\ndid.\n\n\"Master,\" spoke Little John again, \"there is still something else.  You\nmust give him a horse, that he may go as beseems his quality to the\nAbbey.\"\n\n\"Take the grey horse,\" said Robin, \"and put a new saddle on it, and\ntake likewise a good palfrey and a pair of boots, with gilt spurs on\nthem.  And as it would be a shame for a Knight to ride by himself on\nthis errand, I will lend you Little John as Squire--perchance he may\nstand you in yeoman's stead.\"\n\n\"When shall we meet again?\" asked the Knight.\n\n\"This day twelve months,\" said Robin, \"under the greenwood tree.\"\n\nThen the Knight rode on his way, with Little John behind him, and as he\nwent he thought of Robin Hood and his men, and blessed them for the\ngoodness they had shown towards him.\n\n\"To-morrow,\" he said to Little John, \"I must be at the Abbey of St.\nMary, which is in the city of York, for if I am but so much as a day\nlate my lands are lost forever, and though I were to bring the money I\nshould not be suffered to redeem them.\"\n\n\nPART IV.\n\nNow the Abbot had been counting the days as well as the Knight, and the\nnext morning he said to his monks: \"This day year there came a Knight\nand borrowed of me four hundred pounds, giving his lands in surety.\nAnd if he come not to pay his debt ere midnight tolls they will be ours\nfor ever.\"\n\n\"It is full early yet,\" answered the Prior, \"he may still be coming.\"\n\n\"He is far beyond the sea,\" said the Abbot, \"and suffers from hunger\nand cold.  How is he to get here?\"\n\n\"It were a shame,\" said the Prior, \"for you to take his lands.  And you\ndo him much wrong if you drive such a hard bargain.\"\n\n\"He is dead or hanged,\" spake a fat-headed monk who was the cellarer,\n\"and we shall have his four hundred pounds to spend on our gardens and\nour wines,\" and he went with the Abbot to attend the court of justice,\nwherein the Knight's lands would be declared forfeited by the High\nJusticiar.\n\n\"If he come not this day,\" cried the Abbot, rubbing his hands, \"if he\ncome not this day, they will be ours.\"\n\n\"He will not come yet,\" said the Justiciar, but he knew not that the\nKnight was already at the outer gate, and Little John with him.\n\n\"Welcome, Sir Knight,\" said the porter.  \"The horse that you ride is\nthe noblest that ever I saw.  Let me lead them both to the stable, that\nthey may have food and rest.\"\n\n\"They shall not pass these gates,\" answered the Knight sternly, and he\nentered the hall alone, where the monks were sitting at meat, and knelt\ndown and bowed to them.\n\n\"I have come back, my lord,\" he said to the Abbot, who had just\nreturned from the court.  \"I have come back this day as I promised.\"\n\n\"Have you brought my money?\" was all the Abbot said.\n\n\"Not a penny,\" answered the Knight, who wished to see how the Abbot\nwould treat him.\n\n\"Then what do you here without it?\" cried the Abbot in angry tones.\n\n\"I have come to pray you for a longer day,\" answered the Knight meekly.\n\n\"The day was fixed and cannot be gainsaid,\" replied the Justiciar; but\nthe Knight only begged that he would stand his friend and help him in\nhis strait.  \"I am with the Abbot,\" was all the Justiciar would answer.\n\n\"Good Sir Abbot, be my friend,\" prayed the Knight again, \"and give me\none chance more to get the money and free my lands.  I will serve you\nday and night till I have four hundred pounds to redeem them.\"\n\nBut the Abbot only vowed that the money must be paid that day or the\nlands be forfeited.\n\nThe Knight stood up straight and tall: \"It is well,\" said he, \"to prove\none's friends against the hour of need,\" and he looked the Abbot full\nin the face, and the Abbot felt uneasy, he did not know why, and hated\nthe Knight more than ever.  \"Out of my hall, false Knight!\" cried he,\npretending to a courage which he did not feel.  But the Knight stayed\nwhere he was, and answered him, \"You lie, Abbot.  Never was I false,\nand that I have shown in jousts and in tourneys.\"\n\n\"Give him two hundred pounds more,\" said the Justiciar to the Abbot,\n\"and keep the lands yourself.\"\n\n\"No, by Heaven!\" answered the Knight, \"not if you offered me a thousand\npounds would I do it!  Neither Justiciar, Abbot, nor Monk shall be heir\nof mine.\"  Then he strode up to a table and emptied out four hundred\npounds.  \"Take your gold, Sir Abbot, which you lent to me a year agone.\nHad you but received me civilly, I would have paid you something more.\n\n[Illustration: The Knight repays the four hundred pounds]\n\n  \"Sir Abbot, and ye men of law,\n    Now have I kept my day!\n  Now shall I have my land again,\n    For aught that you may say.\"\n\nSo he passed out of the hall singing merrily, leaving the Abbot staring\nsilently after him, and rode back to his house, where his wife met him\nat the gate.\n\n  \"Welcome, my lord,\" said his lady,\n    \"Sir, lost is all your good.\"\n  \"Be merry, dame,\" said the Knight,\n    \"And pray for Robin Hood.\n\n\"But for his kindness, we had been beggars.\"\n\n\nPART V.\n\nAfter this the Knight dwelt at home, looking after his lands and saving\nhis money carefully, till the four hundred pounds lay ready for Robin\nHood.  Then he bought a hundred bows and a hundred arrows, and every\narrow was an ell long, and had a head of silver and peacock's feathers.\nAnd clothing himself in white and red, and with a hundred men in his\ntrain, he set off to Sherwood Forest.\n\nOn the way he passed an open space near a bridge where there was a\nwrestling, and the Knight stopped and looked, for he himself had taken\nmany a prize in that sport.  Here the prizes were such as to fill any\nman with envy; a fine horse, saddled and bridled, a great white bull, a\npair of gloves, a ring of bright red gold, and a pipe of wine.\n\nThere was not a yeoman present who did not hope to win one of them.\nBut when the wrestling was over, the yeoman who had beaten them all was\na man who kept apart from his fellows, and was said to think much of\nhimself.\n\nTherefore the men grudged him his skill, and set upon him with blows,\nand would have killed him, had not the Knight, for love of Robin Hood,\ntaken pity on him, while his followers fought with the crowd, and would\nnot suffer them to touch the prizes a better man had won.\n\nWhen the wrestling was finished the Knight rode on, and there under the\ngreenwood tree, in the place appointed, he found Robin Hood and his\nmerry men waiting for him, according to the tryst that they had fixed\nlast year:--\n\n  \"God save thee, Robin Hood,\n    And all this company.\"\n  \"Welcome be thou, gentle Knight,\n    And right welcome to me.\n\n  \"Hast thou thy land again?\" said Robin,\n    \"Truth then tell thou me.\"\n  \"Yea, for God,\" said the Knight,\n    \"And that thank I God and thee.\n\n  \"Have here four hundred pounds,\" said the Knight,\n    \"The which you lent to me;\n  And here are also twenty marks\n    For your courtesie.\"\n\nBut Robin would not take the money.  A miracle had happened, he said,\nand Our Lady had paid it to him, and shame would it be for him to take\nit twice over.\n\nThen he noticed for the first time the bows and arrows which the Knight\nhad brought, and asked what they were.  \"A poor present to you,\"\nanswered the Knight, and Robin, who would not be outdone, sent Little\nJohn once more to his treasury, and bade him bring forth four hundred\npounds, which was given to the Knight.\n\nAfter that they parted, in much love, and Robin prayed the Knight if he\nwere in any strait \"to let him know at the greenwood tree, and while\nthere was any gold there he should have it\".\n\n\nPART VI.\n\nHOW LITTLE JOHN BECAME THE SHERIFF'S SERVANT.\n\nMeanwhile the High Sheriff of Nottingham proclaimed a great\nshooting-match in a broad open space, and Little John was minded to try\nhis skill with the rest.  He rode through the forest, whistling gaily\nto himself, for well he knew that not one of Robin Hood's men could\nsend an arrow as straight as he, and he felt little fear of anyone else.\n\nWhen he reached the trysting place he found a large company assembled,\nthe Sheriff with them, and the rules of the match were read out: where\nthey were to stand, how far the mark was to be, and how that three\ntries should be given to every man.\n\nSome of the shooters shot near the mark, some of them even touched it,\nbut none but Little John split the slender wand of willow with every\narrow that flew from his bow.\n\nAt this sight the Sheriff of Nottingham swore that Little John was the\nbest archer that ever he had seen, and asked him who he was and where\nhe was born, and vowed that if he would enter his service he would give\ntwenty marks a year to so good a bowman.\n\nLittle John, who did not wish to confess that he was one of Robin\nHood's men and an outlaw, said his name was Reynold Greenleaf, and that\nhe was in the service of a Knight, whose leave he must get before he\nbecame the servant of any man.\n\nThis was given heartily by the Knight, and Little John bound himself to\nthe Sheriff for the space of twelve months, and was given a good white\nhorse to ride on whenever he went abroad.  But for all that he did not\nlike his bargain, and made up his mind to do the Sheriff, who was hated\nof the outlaws, all the mischief he could.\n\nHis chance came on a Wednesday when the Sheriff always went hunting,\nand Little John lay in bed till noon, when he grew hungry.  Then he got\nup, and told the steward that he wanted some dinner.  The steward\nanswered he should have nothing till the Sheriff came home, so Little\nJohn grumbled and left him, and sought out the butler.\n\nHere he was no more successful than before; the butler just went to the\nbuttery door and locked it, and told Little John that he would have to\nmake himself happy till his lord returned.\n\nRude words mattered nothing to Little John, who was not accustomed to\nbe baulked by trifles, so he gave a mighty kick which burst open the\ndoor, and then ate and drank as much as he would, and when he had\nfinished all there was in the buttery, he went down into the kitchen.\n\nNow the Sheriff's cook was a strong man and a bold one, and had no mind\nto let another man play the king in his kitchen; so he gave Little John\nthree smart blows, which were returned heartily.  \"Thou art a brave man\nand hardy,\" said Little John, \"and a good fighter withal.  I have a\nsword, take you another, and let us see which is the better man of us\ntwain.\"\n\nThe cook did as he was bid, and for two hours they fought, neither of\nthem harming the other.  \"Fellow,\" said Little John at last, \"you are\none of the best swordsmen that I ever saw--and if you could shoot as\nwell with the bow, I would take you back to the merry greenwood, and\nRobin Hood would give you twenty marks a year and two changes of\nclothing.\"\n\n\"Put up your sword,\" said the cook, \"and I will go with you.  But first\nwe will have some food in my kitchen, and carry off a little of the\ngold that is in the Sheriff's treasure house.\"\n\nThey ate and drank till they wanted no more, then they broke the locks\nof the treasure house, and took of the silver as much as they could\ncarry, three hundred pounds and more, and departed unseen by anyone to\nRobin in the forest.\n\n\nPART VII.\n\n\"Welcome! welcome!\" cried Robin when he saw them, \"welcome, too, to the\nfair yeoman you bring with you.  What tidings from Nottingham, Little\nJohn?\"\n\n\"The proud Sheriff greets you, and sends you by my hand his cook and\nhis silver vessels, and three hundred pounds and three also.\"\n\nRobin shook his head, for he knew better than to believe Little John's\ntale.  \"It was never by his good will that you brought such treasure to\nme,\" he answered, and Little John, fearing that he might be ordered to\ntake it back again, slipped away into the forest to carry out a plan\nthat had just come into his head.\n\nHe ran straight on for five miles, till he came up with the Sheriff,\nwho was still hunting, and flung himself on his knees before him.\n\n\"Reynold Greenleaf,\" cried the Sheriff, \"what are you doing here, and\nwhere have you been?\"\n\n\"I have been in the forest, where I saw a fair hart of a green colour,\nand sevenscore deer feeding hard by.\"\n\n\"That sight would I see too,\" said the Sheriff.\n\n\"Then follow me,\" answered Little John, and he ran back the way he\ncame, the Sheriff following on horseback, till they turned a corner of\nthe forest, and found themselves in Robin Hood's presence.  \"Sir, here\nis the master-hart,\" said Little John.\n\n  Still stood the proud Sheriff,\n    A sorry man was he,\n  \"Woe be to you, Reynold Greenleaf,\n    Thou hast betrayed me!\"\n\n\n\"It was not my fault,\" answered Little John, \"but the fault of your\nservants, master.  For they would not give me my dinner,\" and he went\naway to see to the supper.\n\nIt was spread under the greenwood tree, and they sat down to it, hungry\nmen all.  But when the Sheriff saw himself served from his own vessels,\nhis appetite went from him.\n\n[Illustration: When the Sheriff saw his own vessels his appetite went\nfrom him]\n\n\"Take heart, man,\" said Robin Hood, \"and think not we will poison you.\nFor charity's sake, and for the love of Little John, your life shall be\ngranted you.  Only for twelve months you shall dwell with me, and learn\nwhat it is to be an outlaw.\"\n\nTo the Sheriff this punishment was worse to bear than the loss of gold\nor silver dishes, and earnestly he begged Robin Hood to set him free,\nvowing he would prove himself the best friend that ever the foresters\nhad.\n\nNeither Robin nor any of his men believed him, but he swore that he\nwould never seek to do them harm, and that if he found any of them in\nevil plight he would deliver them out of it.  With that Robin let him\ngo.\n\n\nPART VIII.\n\nHOW ROBIN MET FRIAR TUCK.\n\nIn many ways life in the forest was dull in the winter, and often the\ndays passed slowly; but in summer, when the leaves were green, and\nflowers and ferns covered all the woodland, Robin Hood and his men\nwould come out of their warm resting places, like the rabbits and the\nsquirrels, and would play too.  Races they ran to stretch their legs,\nor leaping matches were arranged, or they would shoot at a mark.\nAnything was pleasant when the grass was soft once more under their\nfeet.\n\n\"Who can kill a hart of grace five hundred paces off?\"  So said Robin\nto his men in the bright May time; and they went into the wood and\ntried their skill, and in the end it was Little John who brought down\nthe \"hart of grace,\" to the great joy of Robin Hood.\n\n\"I would ride my horse a hundred miles to find one who could match with\nthee,\" he said to Little John, and Will Scarlett, who was perhaps\nrather jealous of this mighty deed, answered with a laugh, \"There lives\na friar in Fountains Abbey who would beat both him and you.\"\n\nNow Robin Hood did not like to be told that any man could shoot better\nthan himself or his foresters, so he swore lustily that he would\nneither eat nor drink till he had seen that friar.  Leaving his men\nwhere they were, he put on a coat of mail and a steel cap, took his\nshield and sword, slung his bow over his shoulder, and filled his\nquiver with arrows.  Thus armed, he set forth to Fountains Dale.\n\nBy the side of the river a friar was walking, armed like Robin, but\nwithout a bow.  At this sight Robin jumped from his horse, which he\ntied to a thorn, and called to the friar to carry him over the water or\nit would cost him his life.\n\nThe friar said nothing, but hoisted Robin on his broad back and marched\ninto the river.  Not a word was spoken till they reached the other\nside, when Robin leaped lightly down, and was going on his way when the\nfriar stopped him.  \"Not so fast, my fine fellow,\" said he.  \"It is my\nturn now, and you shall take me across the river, or woe will betide\nyou.\"\n\nSo Robin carried him, and when they had reached the side from which\nthey had started, he set down the friar and jumped for the second time\non his back, and bade him take him whence he had come.  The friar\nstrode into the stream with his burden, but as  soon as they got to the\nmiddle he bent his head and Robin fell into the water.  \"Now you can\nsink or swim as you like,\" said the friar, as he stood and laughed.\n\n[Illustration: Friar Tuck upsets Robin Hood]\n\nRobin Hood swam to a bush of golden broom, and pulled himself out of\nthe water, and while the friar was scrambling out Robin fitted an arrow\nto his bow and let fly at him.  But the friar quickly held up his\nshield, and the arrow fell harmless.\n\n\"Shoot on, my fine fellow, shoot on all day if you like,\" shouted the\nfriar, and Robin shot till his arrows were gone, but always missed his\nmark.  Then they took their swords, and at four of the afternoon they\nwere still fighting.\n\nBy this time Robin's strength was wearing, and he felt he could not\nfight much more.  \"A boon, a boon!\" cried he.  \"Let me but blow three\nblasts on my horn, and I will thank you on my bended knees for it.\"\n\nThe friar told him to blow as many blasts as he liked, and in an\ninstant the forest echoed with his horn; it was but a few minutes\nbefore \"half a hundred yeomen were racing over the lea\".  The friar\nstared when he saw them; then, turning to Robin, he begged of him a\nboon also, and leave being granted he gave three whistles, which were\nfollowed by the noise of a great crashing through the trees, as fifty\ngreat dogs bounded towards him.\n\n\"Here's a dog for each of your men,\" said the friar, \"and I myself for\nyou\"; but the dogs did not listen to his words, for two of them rushed\nat Robin, and tore his mantle of Lincoln green from off his back.  His\nmen were too busy defending themselves to take heed of their master's\nplight, for every arrow shot at a dog was caught and held in the\ncreature's mouth.\n\nRobin's men were not used to fight with dogs, and felt they were\ngetting beaten.  At last Little John bade the friar call off his dogs,\nand as he did not do so at once he let fly some arrows, which this time\nleft half a dozen dead on the ground.\n\n\"Hold, hold, my good fellow,\" said the friar, \"till your master and I\ncan come to a bargain,\" and when the bargain was made this was how it\nran.  That the friar was to forswear Fountains Abbey and join Robin\nHood, and that he should be paid a golden noble every Sunday throughout\nthe year, besides a change of clothes on each holy day.\n\n  This Friar had kept Fountains Dale\n    Seven long years or more,\n  There was neither Knight, nor Lord, nor Earl\n    Could make him yield before.\n\nBut now he became one of the most famous members of Robin Hood's men\nunder the name of Friar Tuck.\n\n\nPART IX.\n\nHOW ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN FELL OUT.\n\nOne Whitsunday morning, when the sun was shining and the birds singing,\nRobin Hood called to Little John to come with him into Nottingham to\nhear Mass.  As was their custom, they took their bows, and on the way\nLittle John proposed that they should shoot a match with a penny for a\nwager.\n\nRobin, who held that he himself shot better than any man living,\nlaughed in scorn, and told Little John that he should have three tries\nto his master's one, which John without more ado accepted.\n\nBut Robin soon repented both of his offer and his scorn, for Little\nJohn speedily won five shillings, whereat Robin became angry and smote\nLittle John with his hand.\n\nLittle John was not the man to bear being treated so, and he told Robin\nroundly that he would never more own him for master, and straightway\nturned back into the wood.\n\nAt this Robin was ashamed of what he had done, but his pride would not\nsuffer him to say so, and he continued his way to Nottingham, and\nentered the Church of St. Mary, not without secret fears, for the\nSheriff of the town was ever his enemy.  However, there he was and\nthere he meant to stay.\n\nHe knelt down before the great cross in the sight of all the people,\nbut none knew him save one monk only, and he stole out of church and\nran to the Sheriff, and bade him come quickly and take his foe.\n\nThe Sheriff was not slow to do the monk's bidding, and, calling his men\nto follow him, he marched to the church.  The noise they made in\nentering caused Robin to look round.  \"Alas, alas,\" he said to himself,\n\"now miss I Little John.\"\n\nBut he drew his two-handed sword and laid about him in such wise that\ntwelve of the Sheriff's men lay dead before him.  Then Robin found\nhimself face to face with the Sheriff, and gave him a fierce blow; but\nhis sword broke on the Sheriff's head, and he had shot away all his\narrows.  So the men closed round him, and bound his arms.\n\nIll news travels fast, and not many hours had passed before the\nforesters heard that their master was in prison.  They wept and moaned\nand wrung their hands, and seemed to have gone suddenly mad, till\nLittle John bade them pluck up their hearts and help him to deal with\nthe monk.\n\n\nPART X.\n\nThe next morning Little John hid himself, and waited with a comrade,\nMuch by name, till he saw the monk riding along the road, with a page\nbehind him, carrying letters from the Sheriff to the King telling of\nRobin's capture.\n\n\"Whence come you?\" asked Little John, going up to the monk, \"and can\nyou give us tidings of a false outlaw named Robin Hood, who was taken\nprisoner yesterday?  He robbed both me and my fellow of twenty marks,\nand glad should we be to hear of his undoing.\"\n\n\"He robbed me, too,\" said the monk, \"of a hundred pounds and more, but\nI have laid hands on him, and for that you may thank me.\"\n\n\"I thank you so much that, with your leave, I and my friend will bear\nyou company,\" answered Little John; \"for in this forest are many wild\nmen who own Robin Hood for leader, and you ride along this road at the\nperil of your life.\"\n\nThey went on together, talking the while, when suddenly Little John\nseized the horse by the head and pulled down the monk by his hood.\n\n  \"He was my master,\" said Little John,\n    \"That you have brought to bale,\n  Never shall you come at the King\n    For to tell him that tale.\"\n\nAt these words the monk uttered loud cries, but Little John took no\nheed of him, and smote off his head, as Much had already smitten off\nthat of the page, lest he should carry the news of what had happened\nback to the Sheriff.  After this they buried the bodies, and, taking\nthe letters, carried them themselves to the King.\n\nWhen they arrived at the Palace, in the presence of the King, Little\nJohn fell on his knees and held the letter out.  \"God save you, my\nliege lord,\" he said; and the King unfolded the letters and read them.\n\n\"There never was yeoman in Merry England I longed so sore to see,\" he\nsaid.  \"But where is the monk that should have brought these letters?\"\n\n\"He died by the way,\" answered Little John; and the King asked no more\nquestions.\n\nTwenty pounds each he ordered his treasurer to give to Much and to\nLittle John, and made them yeomen of the crown.  After which he handed\nhis own seal to Little John and ordered him to bear it to the Sheriff,\nand bid him without delay bring Robin Hood unhurt into his presence.\n\nLittle John did as the King bade him, and the Sheriff, at sight of the\nseal, gave him and Much welcome, and set a feast before them, at which\nJohn led him to drink heavily.  Soon he fell asleep, and then the two\noutlaws stole softly to the prison.  Here John ran the porter through\nthe body for trying to stop his entrance, and, taking the keys, hunted\nthrough the cells until he had found Robin.  Thrusting a sword into his\nhand Little John whispered to his master to follow him, and they crept\nalong till they reached the lowest part of the city wall, from which\nthey jumped and were safe and free.\n\n\"Now, farewell,\" said Little John, \"I have done you a good turn for an\nill.\"  \"Not so,\" answered Robin Hood, \"I make you master of my men and\nme,\" but Little John would hear nothing of it.  \"I only wish to be your\ncomrade, and thus it shall be,\" he replied.\n\n\"Little John has beguiled us both,\" said the King, when he heard of the\nadventure.\n\n\nPART XI.\n\nHOW THE KING VISITED ROBIN HOOD.\n\nNow the King had no mind that Robin Hood should do as he willed, and\ncalled his Knights to follow him to Nottingham, where they would lay\nplans how best to take captive the felon.  Here they heard sad tales of\nRobin's misdoings, and how of the many herds of wild deer that had been\nwont to roam the forest in some places scarce one remained.  This was\nthe work of Robin Hood and his merry men, on whom the King swore\nvengeance with a great oath.\n\n\"I would I had this Robin Hood in my hands,\" cried he, \"and an end\nshould soon be put to his doings.\"  So spake the King; but an old\nKnight, full of days and wisdom, answered him and warned him that the\ntask of taking Robin Hood would be a sore one, and best let alone.\n\nThe King, who had seen the vanity of his hot words the moment that he\nhad uttered them, listened to the old man, and resolved to bide his\ntime, if perchance some day Robin should fall into his power.\n\nAll this time, and for six weeks later that he dwelt in Nottingham, the\nKing could hear nothing of Robin, who seemed to have vanished into the\nearth with his merry men, though one by one the deer were vanishing too!\n\nAt last one day a forester came to the King, and told him that if he\nwould see Robin he must come with him and take five of his best\nKnights.  The King eagerly sprang up to do his bidding, and the six men\nclad in monks' clothes mounted their palfreys and rode down to the\nAbbey, the King wearing an Abbot's broad hat over his crown, and\nsinging as he passed through the green wood.\n\nSuddenly at the turn of a path Robin and his archers appeared before\nthem.\n\n\"By your leave, Sir Abbot,\" said Robin, seizing the King's bridle, \"you\nwill stay a while with us.  Know that we are yeomen, who live upon the\nKing's deer, and other food have we none.  Now you have abbeys and\nchurches, and gold in plenty; therefore give us some of it, in the name\nof holy charity.\"\n\n\"I have no more than forty pounds with me,\" answered the King, \"but\nsorry I am it is not a hundred, for you should have had it all.\"\n\nSo Robin took the forty pounds, and gave half to his men, and then told\nthe King he might go on his way.  \"I thank you,\" said the King, \"but I\nwould have you know that our liege lord has bid me bear you his seal,\nand pray you to come to Nottingham.\"\n\nAt this message Robin bent his knee.\n\n  \"I love no man in all the world\n  So well as I do my King\";\n\nhe cried, \"and Sir Abbot, for thy tidings, which fill my heart with\njoy, to-day thou shalt dine with me, for love of my King\".  Then he led\nthe King into an open place, and Robin took a horn and blew it loud,\nand at its blast seven score of young men came speedily to do his will.\n\n\"They are quicker to do his bidding than my men are to do mine,\" said\nthe King to himself.\n\nSpeedily the foresters set out the dinner, venison, and white bread,\nand the good red wine, and Robin and Little John served the King.\n\"Make good cheer,\" said Robin, \"Abbot, for charity, and then you shall\nsee what sort of life we lead, that so you may tell our King.\"\n\nWhen he had finished eating, the archers took their bows, and hung\nrose-garlands up with a string, and every man was to shoot through the\ngarland.  If he failed, he should have a buffet on the head from Robin.\n\nGood bowmen as they were, few managed to stand the test.  Little John\nand Will Scarlett, and Much, all shot wide of the mark, and at length\nno one was left in but Robin himself and Gilbert of the Wide Hand.\nThen Robin fired his last bolt, and it fell three fingers from the\ngarland.  \"Master,\" said Gilbert, \"you have lost, stand forth and take\nyour punishment.\"\n\n\"I will take it,\" answered Robin, \"but, Sir Abbot, I pray you that I\nmay suffer it at your hands.\"\n\nThe King hesitated.  \"It did not become him,\" he said, \"to smite such a\nstout yeoman,\" but Robin bade him smite on; so he turned up his sleeve,\nand gave Robin such a buffet on the head that he rolled upon the ground.\n\n\"There is pith in your arm,\" said Robin.  \"Come, shoot a main with me.\"\nAnd the King took up a bow, and in so doing his hat fell back and Robin\nsaw his face.\n\n[Illustration: There is pith in your arm said Robin Hood]\n\n\"My lord the King of England, now I know you well,\" cried he, and he\nfell on his knees and all the outlaws with him.  \"Mercy I ask, my lord\nthe King, for my men and me.\"\n\n\"Mercy I grant,\" then said the King, \"and therefore I came hither, to\nbid you and your men leave the greenwood and dwell in my Court with me.\"\n\n\"So shall it be,\" answered Robin, \"I and my men will come to your\nCourt, and see how your service liketh us.\"\n\n\nPART XII.\n\nROBIN AT COURT.\n\n\"Have you any green cloth,\" asked the King, \"that you could sell to\nme?\" and Robin brought out thirty yards and more, and clad the King and\nhis men in coats of Lincoln green.  \"Now we will all ride to\nNottingham,\" said he, and they went merrily, shooting by the way.\n\nThe people of Nottingham saw them coming, and trembled as they watched\nthe dark mass of Lincoln green drawing near over the fields.  \"I fear\nlest our King be slain,\" whispered one to another, \"and if Robin Hood\ngets into the town there is not one of us whose life is safe\"; and\nevery man, woman, and child made ready to fly.\n\nThe King laughed out when he saw their fright, and called them back.\nRight glad were they to hear his voice, and they feasted and made\nmerry.  A few days later the King returned to London, and Robin dwelt\nin his Court for twelve months.  By that time he had spent a hundred\npounds, for he gave largely to the Knights and Squires he met, and\ngreat renown he had for his open-handedness.\n\nBut his men, who had been born under the shadow of the forest, could\nnot live amid streets and houses.  One by one they slipped away, till\nonly Little John and Will Scarlett were left.  Then Robin himself grew\nhome-sick, and at the sight of some young men shooting, he thought upon\nthe time when he was accounted the best archer in all England, and went\nstraightway to the King and begged for leave to go on a pilgrimage to\nBernisdale.\n\n\"I may not say you nay,\" answered the King, \"seven nights you may be\ngone and no more.\"  And Robin thanked him, and that evening set out for\nthe greenwood.\n\nIt was early morning when he reached it at last, and listened thirstily\nto the notes of singing birds, great and small.\n\n\"It seems long since I was here,\" he said to himself; \"it would give me\ngreat joy if I could bring down a deer once more;\" and he shot a great\nhart, and blew his horn, and all the outlaws of the forest came\nflocking round him.  \"Welcome,\" they said, \"our dear master, back to\nthe greenwood tree,\" and they threw off their caps and fell on their\nknees before him in delight at his return.\n\n\nPART XIII.\n\nTHE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD.\n\nFor two and twenty years Robin Hood dwelt in Sherwood Forest after he\nhad run away from Court, and naught that the King could say would tempt\nhim back again.  At the end of that time he fell ill; he neither ate\nnor drank, and had no care for the things he loved, \"I must go to merry\nKirkley,\" said he, \"and have my blood let.\"\n\nBut Will Scarlett, who heard his words, spoke roundly to him.  \"Not by\nmy leave, nor without a hundred bowmen at your back.  For there abides\nan evil man, who is sure to quarrel with you, and you will need us\nbadly.\"\n\n\"If you are afraid, Will Scarlett, you may stay at home, for me,\" said\nRobin, \"and in truth no man will I take with me, save Little John only,\nto carry my bow.\"\n\n\"Bear your bow yourself, master, and I will bear mine, and we will\nshoot for a penny as we ride.\"\n\n\"Very well, let it be so,\" said Robin, and they went on merrily enough\ntill they came to some women weeping sorely near a stream.\n\n\"What is the matter, good wives?\" said Robin Hood.\n\n\"We weep for Robin Hood and his dear body, which to-day must let\nblood,\" was their answer.\n\n\"Pray why do you weep for me?\" asked Robin; \"the Prioress is the\ndaughter of my aunt, and my cousin, and well I know she would not do me\nharm for all the world.\"\n\nAnd he passed on, with Little John at his side.\n\nSoon they reached the Priory, where they were let in by the Prioress\nherself, who bade them welcome heartily, and not the less because Robin\nhanded her twenty pounds in gold as payment for his stay, and told her\nif he cost her more she was to let him know of it.\n\nThen she began to bleed him, and for long Robin said nothing, giving\nher credit for kindness and for knowing her art, but at length so much\nblood came from him that he suspected treason.\n\nHe tried to open the door, for she had left him alone in the room, but\nit was locked fast, and while the blood was still flowing he could not\nescape from the casement.  So he lay down for many hours, and none came\nnear him, and at length the blood stopped.\n\nSlowly Robin uprose and staggered to the lattice-window, and blew\nthrice on his horn; but the blast was so low, and so little like what\nRobin was wont to give, that Little John, who was watching for some\nsound, felt that his master must be nigh to death.\n\nAt this thought he started to his feet, and ran swiftly to the Priory.\nHe broke the locks of all the doors that stood between him and Robin\nHood, and soon entered the chamber where his master lay, white, with\nnigh all his blood gone from him.\n\n\"I crave a boon of you, dear master,\" cried Little John.\n\n\"And what is that boon,\" said Robin Hood, \"which Little John begs of\nme?\"  And Little John answered, \"It is to burn fair Kirkley Hall, and\nall the nunnery.\"\n\n[Illustration: Robin Hood shoots his last arrow]\n\nBut Robin Hood, in spite of the wrong that had been done him, would not\nlisten to Little John's cry for revenge.  \"I never hurt a woman in all\nmy life,\" he said, \"nor a man that was in her company.  But now my time\nis done, that know I well; so give me my bow and a broad arrow, and\nwheresoever it falls there shall my grave be digged.  Lay a green sod\nunder my head and another at my feet, and put beside me my bow, which\never made sweetest music to my ears, and see that green and gravel make\nmy grave.  And, Little John, take care that I have length enough and\nbreadth enough to lie in.\"  So he loosened his last arrow from the\nstring and then died, and where the arrow fell Robin was buried.\n\n\n\n\nWAYLAND THE SMITH.\n\nPART I.\n\nRight up to the north of Norway and Sweden, looking straight at the\nPole, lies the country of Finmark.  It is very cold and very bare, and\nfor half the year very dark; but inside its stony mountains are rich\nstores of metals, and the strong, ugly men of the country spent their\nlives in digging out the ore and in working it.\n\nLike many people who dwell in mountains, they saw and heard strange\nthings, which were unknown to the inhabitants of the lands to the south.\n\nNow in Finmark there were three brothers whose names were Slagfid,\nEigil, and Wayland, all much handsomer and cleverer than their\nneighbours.  They had some money of their own, but this did not prevent\nthem working as hard as anyone else; and as they were either very\nclever or very lucky, they were soon in a fair way to grow rich.\n\nOne day they went to a new part of the mountains which was yet\nuntouched, and began to throw up the earth with their pick-axes; but\ninstead of the iron they expected to see, they found they had lighted\nupon a mine of gold.\n\nThis discovery pleased them greatly and their blows became stronger and\nharder, for the gold was deep in the rock and it was not easy to get it\nout.\n\nAt last a huge lump rolled out at their feet, and when they picked it\nup they saw three stones shining in it, one red and one blue and one\ngreen.  They took it home to their mother, who began to weep bitterly\nat the sight of it.  \"What is the matter?\" asked her sons anxiously,\nfor they knew things lay open to her which were hidden from others.\n\n\"Ah, my sons,\" she said as soon as she could speak, \"you will have much\nhappiness, but I shall be forced to part with you.  Therefore I shed\ntears, for I hoped that only death would divide us!  Green is the\ngrass, blue is the sky, red are the roses, golden is the maiden.  The\nNoras\" (for so in that country they called the Fates) \"beckon you to a\nland where green fields lie under a blue sky, fields where\ngolden-haired maidens lie among the flowers.\"\n\nGreat was the joy of the three brothers when they heard the words of\ntheir mother; for they hated the looks of the women who dwelt about\nthem, and longed to see the maidens of the south.  Next morning they\nrose early and buckled on their swords and coats of mail, and fastened\non their heads helmets that they had made the day before from the lump\nof gold.  In the centre of Slagfid's helmet was the green stone, and in\nthe centre of Eigil's was the blue stone, and in the centre of\nWayland's was the red stone; and when they were ready they put their\nreindeers into their sledges, and set out over the snow.\n\n\nPART II.\n\nWhen they reached the mountains where only yesterday they had been\ndigging, they saw by the light of the moon a host of little men running\nto meet them.  They were dressed all in grey, except for their caps,\nwhich were red; they had red eyes, too, and black tongues, which never\nceased chattering.\n\nThese were the mountain elves, and when they came near they formed\nthemselves into a fairy ring, and sang while they danced round it;--\n\n  Will you leave us?  Will you leave us?\n  Slagfid, Eigil, and Wayland, sons of a King.\n  Is not the emerald better than grass?\n  Is not the ruby better than roses?\n  Is not the sapphire better than the sky?\n  Why do you leave the mountains of Finmark?\n\n\nBut Eigil was impatient and struck his reindeer, that willing beast\nwhich flies like the wind and needs not the touch of a whip.  It\nbounded forward in surprise, and knocked down one of the elves that\nstood in its path.  But the hands of his brothers laid hold of the\nreins, and stopped the reindeer, and sang again:--\n\n  The Finlander's world, the Finlander's joy\n      Lies under the earth;\n  Seek not without what we offer within,\n  Despise not the elves small and dark though they be.\n      The best is within, do not seek it without.\n      The Finlander's world, the Finlander's joy,\n      Lies under the earth.\n\n\nSlagfid struck his reindeer.  It bounded forward and struck down an elf\nwho stood in its road.  Then his brothers stood in its path, and\nstopped the reindeer, and sang:--\n\n  Because Slagfid struck his reindeer,\n  Because Eigil struck his reindeer,\n    Our hatred shall follow you.\n  A time of weal, a time of woe, a time of grief, a time of joy.\n    Because Wayland also forsook us,\n    Though he struck not the reindeer,\n  A time of weal, a time of woe, a time of grief, a time of joy.\n    Farewell, O Finlanders, sons of a King.\n\nTheir voices died away as they crossed a bright strip of moonlight,\nwhich lay between them and the mountains and so they were seen no more.\n\nThe brothers thought no more about them or their words, but went\nswiftly on their way south, sleeping at night in their reindeer skins.\n\nAfter many days they came to a lake full of fish, in a place which was\ncalled the Valley of Wolves, because of the number of wolves which hid\nthere.  But the Finlanders did not mind the wolves, and built a house\nclose to the lake, and hunted bears, and caught fish through holes in\nthe ice, till winter had passed away and spring had come.  Then one day\nthey noticed that the sky was blue and the earth covered with flowers.\n\nBy-and-by they noticed something more, and that was that three maidens\nwere sitting on the grass, spinning flax on the bank of a stream.\nTheir eyes were blue, and their skins were white as the snow on the\nmountains, while instead of the mantles of swansdown they generally\nwore, golden hair covered their shoulders.\n\nThe hearts of the brothers beat as they looked on the maidens, who were\nsuch as they had often dreamed of, but had never seen; and as they drew\nnear they found to their surprise that the maidens were dressed each in\nred, green, and blue garments, and the meadow was so thickly dotted\nwith yellow flowers that it seemed as if it were a mass of solid gold.\n\n[Illustration: The three women by the stream]\n\n\"Hail, noble princes!  Hail, Slagfid, Eigil, and Wayland,\" sang the\nmaidens.\n\n  \"Swanvite, Alvilda, and Alruna are sent by the Norns,\n  To bring joy to the princes of Finmark\"\n\nThen the tongues of the young men were unloosed, and Slagfid married\nSwanvite, Eigil Alruna, and Wayland Alvilda.\n\n\nPART III.\n\nFor nine years they all lived on the shores of the lake, and no people\nin the world were as happy as these six; till one morning the three\nwives stood before their husbands and said with weeping eyes:--\n\n\"Dear lords, the time has now come when we must bid you farewell, for\nwe are not allowed to stay with you any longer..  We are Norns--or, as\nsome call us, Valkyrie.  Nine years of joy are granted to us, but these\nare paid for by nine years during which we hover round the combatants\non every field of battle.  But bear your souls in patience, for on\nearth all things have an end, and in nine years we will return to be\nyour wives as before.\"\n\n\"But we shall begetting old then,\" answered the brothers, \"and you will\nhave forgotten us.  Stay now, we pray you, for we love you well.\"\n\n\"_We_ are not mortals to grow old,\" said the Norns, \"and true love does\nnot grow old either.  Still, we do not wish you to fall sick with\ngrieving, so we leave you these three keys, with which you may open the\nmountain, and busy yourselves by digging out the treasures it contains.\nBy the time the nine years are over you will have become rich and men\nof renown.\"  So they laid down the keys and vanished.\n\nFor a long while the young men only left their houses to seek for food,\nso dreary had the Valley of Wolves become.  At last Slagfid and Eigil\ncould bear it no longer, and declared they would travel through the\nwhole world till they found their wives; but Wayland, the youngest,\ndetermined to stay at home.\n\n\"You would do much better to remain where you are,\" said he.  \"You do\nnot know in which direction to look for them, and it is useless to seek\non earth for those who fly through the air.  You will only lose\nyourselves, and starve, and when the nine years are ended who can tell\nwhere you may be?\"\n\nBut his words fell on deaf ears; for Slagfid and Eigil merely filled\ntheir wallets with food and their horns with drink, and prepared to\ntake leave of their brother.  Wayland embraced them weeping, for he\nfeared that he should never more see them, and once again he implored\nthem to give up their quest.  Slagfid and Eigil only shook their heads.\n\"We have no rest, night or day, without them,\" they said, and they\nbegged him to look after their property till they came back again.\n\nWayland saw that more words would be wasted, so he walked with them to\nthe edge of the forest, where their ways would part.  Then Slagfid\nsaid: \"Our fathers, when they went a journey, left behind them a token\nby which it might be known whether they were dead or alive, and I will\ndo so also.\"  So he stamped heavily on the soft ground, and added, \"As\nlong as this footmark remains sharp and clear, I shall be safe.  If it\nis filled with water I shall be drowned; if with blood, I shall have\nfallen in battle.  But if it is filled with earth an illness will have\nkilled me, and I shall lie under the ground.\"  Thus he did, and Eigil\ndid likewise.  Then they cut stout sticks to aid their journeys, and\nwent their ways.  Wayland stood gazing after them as long as they were\nin sight, and then he went sadly home.\n\n\nPART IV.\n\nSlagfid and Eigil walked steadily on through the day, and when evening\ncame they reached a stream bordered with trees, where they took off\ntheir golden helmets and sat down to rest and eat.  They had gone far\nthat day and were tired, and drank somewhat heavily, so that they knew\nnot what they did.  \"If I lose my Swanvite,\" said Slagfid, \"I am\nundone.  She is the fairest woman that sun ever looked on, or that man\never loved.\"\n\n\"It is a lie,\" answered Eigil.  \"I know one lovelier still, and her\nname is Alruna.  Odin does not love Freya so fondly as Eigil adores\nher.\"\n\n\"It is no lie,\" cried Slagfid, \"and may shame fall on him who slanders\nme.\"\n\n\"And I,\" answered Eigil, \"stand to what I have said, and declare that\nyou are the liar.\"  At this they both drew their swords and fell\nfighting, till Slagfid struck Eigil's helmet so hard that the jewel\nflew into a thousand pieces, while Eigil himself fell backwards into\nthe river.\n\nSlagfid stood still, leaning on his sword and looking at the river into\nwhich his brother had fallen.  Suddenly the trees behind him rustled,\nand a voice came out of them, saying, \"A time of weal, a time of woe, a\ntime of tears, a time of death\"; and though he could see nothing he\nremembered the mountain elves, and thought how true their prophecy had\nbeen.  \"I have slain my brother,\" he said to himself, \"my wife has\nforsaken me; I am miserable and alone.  What shall I do?  Go back to\nWayland, or follow Eigil into the river?  No.  After all I may find my\nwife.  The Norns do not always bring misfortune.\"\n\nAs he spoke a light gleamed in the darkness of the night, and, looking\nup, Slagfid saw it was shed by a bright star which seemed to be drawing\nnearer, and the nearer it drew its shape seemed to change into a human\nfigure.  Then Slagfid knew that it was his wife, Swanvite, floating\njust over his head and encircled by a rim of clear green light.\n\nHe could not speak for joy, but held out his arms to her.  She beckoned\nto him to follow her, and Slagfid, flinging away his sword and coat of\nmail, began to climb the mountain.\n\nHalf way up it seemed to him as if a hand from behind was pulling him\nback, and turning he fancied he beheld his mother and heard her say:\n\"My son, seek not after vain shadows, which yet may be your ruin.\"\n\nThe words caused Slagfid to pause for a moment.  Then the figure of\nSwanvite danced before him and beckoned to him again, and his mother\nwas forgotten.  There were rivers to swim, precipices to climb, chasms\nto leap, but he passed them all gladly, till at last he noticed that\nthe higher he got the less the figure seemed like Swanvite.\n\nHe felt frightened and tried to turn back, but he could not.  On he had\nto go, till just as he reached the top of the mountain the first rays\nof the sun appeared above the horizon, and he saw that, instead of\nSwanvite, he had followed a black elf.\n\nHe paused and looked over the green plain that lay thousands of feet\nbelow him, cool and inviting after the stony mountain up which he had\ncome.  \"A time of death,\" whispered the black elf in his ear, and\nSlagfid flung himself over the precipice.\n\n\nPART V.\n\nAfter his brothers had forsaken him Wayland went to bed lonely and sad;\nbut the next morning he got up and looked at the three keys that the\nNoras had left behind them.  One was of copper, one was of iron, and\none was of gold.\n\nTaking up the copper one, he walked to the mountain till he reached a\nflat wall of rock.  He laid his key against it, and immediately the\nmountain flew open and showed a cave where everything was green.  Green\nemeralds studded the rocks, green crystals hung from the ceiling or\nformed rows of pillars, even the copper which made the walls of the\ncave had a coating of green.  Wayland broke off a huge projecting lump\nand left the cave, which instantly closed up so that not a crack\nremained to tell where the opening had been.\n\nHe carried the lump home, and put it into the fire till all the earth\nand stones which clung to it were burned away; and then he fashioned\nthe pure copper into a helmet, and in the front of the helmet he set\nthree of his largest emeralds.\n\nThis occupied some days, and when it was done he took the iron key, and\nwent to another mountain, and laid the key against the rock, which flew\nopen like the other one.  But now the walls were of iron, which shone\nlike blue steel, while sapphires glittered in the midst.\n\nWayland gazed with wonder at all these things; then he broke off a\npiece of the iron, and carried it home with him.\n\nFor many days after he busied himself in forging a sword that was so\nsupple he could wind it round his body, and so sharp it could cut\nthrough a rock as if it had been a stick.  In the handle and in the\nsheath he set some of the finest sapphires that he had brought away\nwith him.\n\nWhen all was finished he laid the sword aside, and returned to the\nmountain, with the golden key.  This time the mountain parted, and he\nsaw before him an archway, with a glimpse of the sea in the distance.\n\nBefore the entrance roses were lying, and inside the golden walls\nsparkled with rubies, while branches of red coral filled every crevice.\nVines climbed around the pillars, and bore large bunches of red grapes.\n\nWayland stood long, looking at these marvels; then he plucked some of\nthe grapes, broke off a lump of gold, and set out home again.\n\nNext day he began to make himself a golden breastplate, and in it he\nplaced the jewels, and it was so bright that you could have seen the\nglitter a mile off.\n\nAfter he had tried all the three keys, and found out the secrets of the\nmountain, Wayland felt dull.  So his mind went back to his brothers,\nand he wondered how they had fared all this time.\n\nThe first thing he did was to go to the edge of the forest, and see if\nhe could find the two footprints they had left.\n\nHe soon arrived at the spot where they had taken farewell of each\nother, but a blue pool of water covered the trace of Eigil's foot.  He\nturned to look at the impression made by Slagfid, but on that fresh\ngreen grass had sprung up over it, and on a birch-tree near it a bird\nhad perched, which sang a mournful song.\n\nThen Wayland knew that his brothers were dead, and he returned to his\nhut, grieving sore.\n\n\nPART VI.\n\nIt was a long time before Wayland could bring himself to go out, so\ngreat was his sorrow; but at last he roused himself from his misery,\nand went to the mountain for more gold, meaning to work hard till the\nnine years should be over and he should get his wife back again.\n\nAll day long he stood in his forge, smelting and hammering, till he had\nmade hundreds of suits of armour and thousands of swords, and his fame\ntravelled far, so that all men spoke of his industry.\n\nAt last he grew tired of making armour, and hammered a number of gold\nrings, which he strung on strips of bark, and as he hammered he thought\nof Alvilda his wife, and how the rings would gleam on her arms when\nonce she came back again.\n\nNow at this time Nidud the Little reigned over Sweden, and was hated by\nhis people, for he was vain and cowardly and had many other bad\nqualities.  It came to his ears that away in the forests lived a man\nwho was very rich, and worked all day long in pure gold.\n\nThe King was one of those people who could not bear to see anyone with\nthings which he did not himself possess, and he began to make plans how\nto get hold of Wayland's wealth.\n\nAt length he called together his chief counsellors, and said to them:\n\"I hear a man has come to my kingdom who is called Wayland, famous in\nmany lands for his skill in sword-making.  I have set men to inquire\nafter him, and I have found that when first he came here he was poor\nand of no account, so he must have grown rich either by magic or else\nby violence.  I command, therefore, that my stoutest men-at-arms should\nbuckle on their iron breastplates and ride in the dead of night to\nWayland's house, and seize his goods and his person.\"\n\n\"King Nidud,\" answered one of the courtiers, \"that you should take\nhimself and his goods is well, but why send a troop of soldiers against\none man?  If he is no sorcerer, then a single one of your soldiers\ncould take him captive; but if, on the other hand, he is a magician,\nthen a whole army could do nothing with him against his will.\"\n\nAt this reply the King flew in a rage, and, snatching up a sword, ran\nit through his counsellor's body; then, turning to the rest, told them\nthat they would suffer the same fate if they refused to submit to his\nwill.\n\nSo the men-at-arms put on all their armour, and, mounting their horses,\nset forth at sunset to Wayland's house, King Nidud riding at their\nhead.  The door stood wide open, and they entered quietly, in deadly\nfear lest Wayland should attack them.\n\nBut no one was inside, and they looked about, their eyes dazzled by the\ngold on the walls.  The King gazed with wonder and delight at the long\nstring of golden rings, and, slipping the finest off a strip of bark,\nplaced it on his finger.\n\nAt that moment steps were heard in the outer court, and the King\nhastily desired his followers to hide themselves, and not to stir till\nhe signed to them to do so.\n\nIn another moment Wayland stood in the doorway, carrying on his\nshoulders a bear which he had killed with his spear and was bringing\nhome for supper.\n\nHe was both tired and hungry, for he had been hunting all day; but he\nhad first to skin the animal, and make a bright fire, before he could\ncut off some steaks and cook them at the end of the spear.  Then he\npoured some mead into a cup and drank, as he always did, to the memory\nof his brothers.  After that he spread out his bear's skin to dry in\nthe wind, and this done he stretched himself out on his bed and went to\nsleep.\n\n\nPART VII.\n\nKing Nidud waited till he thought all was safe, then crept forth with\nhis men, who held heavy chains in their hands wherewith to chain the\nsleeping Wayland.  But the task was harder than they expected, for he\nstarted up in wrath, asking why he should be treated so.  \"If you want\nmy gold, take it and release me.  It is useless fighting against such\nodds.\"\n\n\"I am no robber,\" said Nidud, \"but I am your King.\"\n\n\"You do me much honour,\" replied Wayland, \"but what have I done to be\nloaded with chains like this?\"\n\n\"Wayland, I know you well,\" said Nidud.  \"Poor enough you were when you\ncame from Finmark, and now your jewels are finer and your drinking cups\nheavier than mine.\"\n\n\"If I am indeed a thief,\" answered Wayland, \"then you do well to load\nme with chains and lead me bound into your dungeons; but if not, I ask\nagain, Why do you misuse me?\"\n\n\"Riches do not come of themselves,\" said Nidud, \"and if you are not a\nthief, then you must be a magician and must be watched.\"\n\n\"If I were a magician,\" answered Wayland, \"it would be easy for me to\nburst these bonds.  I know not that I have ever wronged any man, but if\nhe can prove it, I will restore it to him tenfold.  As to the gifts\nthat may come from the gods, no man should grudge them to his fellow.\nTherefore release me, O King, and I will pay whatever ransom you may\nfix.\"\n\nBut Nidud only bade his guards take him away, and Wayland, seeing that\nresistance availed nothing, went with them quietly.\n\nBy the King's orders he was thrown into a dark hole fifteen fathoms\nunder ground, and the soldiers then came and robbed the house of all\nits treasures, which they took to the Palace.  The ring which Wayland\nhad made for Alvilda, Nidud gave to his daughter, Banvilda.\n\nOne day the Queen was in her own room, when the King came in to ask her\nadvice as to how best to deal with Wayland, as he did not think it wise\nto put him to death, for he hoped to make some profit out of his skill.\n\"His heart will beat high,\" said the Queen, \"when he sees his good\nsword, and beholds his ring on Banvilda's finger.  But cut asunder the\nsinews of his strength, so that he can never more escape from us, and\nkeep him a prisoner.\"\n\nThe King was pleased with the Queen's words, and sent soldiers to carry\nWayland to a tower on an island.  The sinews of his legs were cut so\nthat he could not swim away; but they gave him his boots, and the\nchests of gold they had found in his house.  Here he was left, with\nnothing to do from morning till night, but to make helmets and drinking\ncups and splendid armour for the King.\n\n\nPART VIII.\n\nOn this island Wayland remained for a whole year, chained to a stone\nand visited by no one but the King, who came from time to time to see\nhow his prisoner was getting on with a suit of golden armour he had\nbeen ordered to make.\n\nThe shield was also of gold, and on it Wayland had beaten out a history\nof the gods and their great deeds.  He was very miserable, for the hope\nof revenge which had kept him alive seemed as far off as ever in its\nfulfilment, and finding a sword he had lately forged lying close to his\nhand, he seized it, with the intent of putting an end to his wretched\nlife.\n\nHe had hardly stretched out his hand, when a bird began to sing at the\niron bars of his window, while the evening sun shone into his prison.\n\"I should like to see the world once more,\" thought he, and, raising\nhimself on the stone to which his chain was fastened, he was able to\nlook at what lay beneath him.\n\nThe sea washed the base of the rock on which the tower was built, and\non a neck of land a little way off some children were playing before\nthe door of a hut.  Everything was bathed in red light from the glow of\nthe setting sun.\n\nWayland stood quite still on top of the stone, gazing at the scene with\nall his eyes, yet thinking of the land of his birth, which was so\ndifferent.  Then he looked again at the sea, which was already turning\nto steel, and in the distance he saw something moving on the waves.\n\nAs it came nearer he discovered it was a water sprite, singing a song\nwhich blended with the murmur of the waves and the notes of the bird.\nAnd the song put new life and courage into his heart, for it told him\nthat if he would endure and await the pleasure of the gods, joy would\nbe his one day.\n\nThe sprite finished her song, and smiled up at Wayland at the window\nbefore turning and swimming over the waves till she dived beneath them.\nThat same instant the bird flew away, and the moon was covered by a\ncloud.  But Wayland's heart was cheered, and when he lay down to rest\nhe slept quietly.\n\nSome days later the King paid another visit, and suddenly espied the\nthree keys which had been hidden in a corner with some of Wayland's\ntools.\n\nHe at once asked Wayland what they were, and when he would not tell him\nthe King grew so angry that, seizing an axe, he declared that he would\nput his prisoner to death unless he confessed all he knew.  There was\nno help for it, and Wayland had to say how he came by them and what\nwonders they wrought.  The King heard him with delight and went away,\ntaking the keys with him.\n\n\nPART IX.\n\nNo time was lost in preparing for a journey to the mountains, and when\nthe King reached the spot described by Wayland he divided his followers\ninto three parties, sending two to await him some distance off, and\nkeeping the third to enter the mountain with himself, if the copper key\ndid the wonders it had done before.\n\nSo he gave it to one of the bravest of his men, and told him to lay it\nagainst the side of the mountain.  The man obeyed, and instantly the\nmountain split from top to bottom.\n\nThe King bade them enter, never doubting that rich spoils awaited him;\nbut instead, the men sank into a green marsh, which swallowed up many\nof them, while the rest were stung to death by the green serpents\nhanging from the roof.  Those who, like the King, were near the\nentrance alone escaped.\n\nAs soon as he had recovered from the terror into which this adventure\nhad thrown him, he commanded that it should be kept very secret from\nthe other two parties, and desired Storbiorn his Chamberlain, to take\nthe key of iron and the key of gold and deliver them to the leaders of\nthe divisions he had left behind, with orders to try their fortune in\ndifferent parts of the mountain.\n\n\"Give the keys to me, my lord King,\" answered Storbiorn, \"and I shall\nknow what to do with them.  These magicians may do their worst, my\nheart will not beat one whit the faster; and I shall see all that\nhappens.\"\n\nSo he went and gave his message to the two divisions, and one stayed\nbehind while Storbiorn went to the mountain with the other.\n\nWhen they arrived, the man who held the key laid it against the rock,\nwhich burst asunder, and half the men entered at Storbiorn's command.\n\nSuddenly an icy blue stream poured upon them from the depths of the\ncavern, and drowned most of them before they had time to fly.  Only\nthose behind escaped, and Storbiorn bade them go instantly to the King\nand tell him what had happened.\n\nThen he went to the third troop and marched with them to the rock,\nwhere he gave the golden key to one of the men, and ordered him to try\nit.\n\nThe rock flew open at once, and Storbiorn told the men to enter, taking\ncare, however, to keep behind himself.  They obeyed and found\nthemselves in a lovely golden cave, whose walls were lit up by\nthousands of precious stones of every hue.\n\nThere was neither sight nor sound to frighten them, and even Storbiorn,\nwhen he saw the gold, forgot his prudence and his fears, and followed\nthem in.\n\nIn a moment a red fire burst out with a terrific noise, and clouds of\nsmoke poured over them, so that they fell down choked into the flames.\nOnly one man escaped, and he ran back as fast as he could to the King\nto tell him of the fate of his army.\n\n\nPART X.\n\nAll this time Wayland was working quietly in his island prison, waiting\nfor the day of his revenge.  The suit of golden armour which the King\nhad commanded kept him busy day and night, and, besides the wonderful\nshield with figures of the gods, he had wrought a coat of mail, a\nhelmet, and armour for the thighs, such as never had been seen before.\n\nThe King had invited all his great nobles to meet him at the Palace,\nwhen he returned from the mountain, so that they might see his\nwonderful armour and all the precious things he should bring with him\nfrom the caverns.\n\nWhen Nidud reached his Palace the Queen and Banvilda, their daughter,\ncame forth to meet him, and told him that the great hall was already\nfull of guests, expecting to see the wonders he had brought.\n\nThe King said little about his adventures, but went into the armoury to\nput on his armour in order to appear before his nobles.  Piece by piece\nhe fastened it, but he found the helmet so heavy that he could hardly\nbear it on his head.  However, he did not look properly dressed without\nit, so he had to wear it, though it felt as if a whole mountain was\npressing on his forehead.  Then, buckling on the sword which Wayland\nhad forged, he entered the hall, and seated himself on the throne.\n\nThe Earls were struck dumb by his splendour, and thought at first that\nit was a god, till they looked under the helmet and saw the ugly little\nman with the pale cowardly face.  So they turned their eyes gladly on\nthe Queen and Princess, both tall and beautiful and glittering with\njewels, though inwardly they were not much better than the King.\n\nA magnificent dinner made the nobles feel more at ease, and they begged\nthe King to tell them what man was so skilled in smith's work.  Now\nNidud had drunk deeply, and longed to revenge himself on Wayland, whom\nhe held to have caused the loss of his army; so he gave the key of the\ntower to one of his Earls, and bade him take two men and bring forth\nWayland, adding that if the next time he visited the tower he should\nfind a grain of gold missing, they should pay for it with their lives.\n\nThe three men got a boat, and rowed towards the tower, but on the way\none who, like the King, had drunk too much fell into the sea and was\ndrowned.  The other two reached the tower in safety, and finding\nWayland, blackened with dust, busy at his forge, bade him come just as\nhe was to the boat.\n\nWith his hands bound they led him before the King, and said, \"We have\ndone your desire, Sir King, and must now hasten back to look for\nGrullorm, who fell into the sea\".\n\n\"Leave him where he is,\" replied Nidud; \"and in token of your obedience\nto my orders I will give you each these golden chains.\"\n\nThe guests had not thought to see the man who had made such wonderful\narmour helpless and a cripple, and said so to the King.  \"He was once\nhandsome and stately enough,\" answered Nidud, \"but I have bowed his\nstubborn head.\"  And the Queen and her daughter laughed and said, \"The\nmaidens of Finmark will hardly fancy a lover who cannot stand upright\".\n\n[Illustration: Wayland mocked by the Queen and Banvilda]\n\nBut Wayland stood as if he heard nothing, till the King's son snatched\na bone from the table and threw it at his head.  Then his patience gave\nway, and, seizing the bone, he beat Nidud about the head with it till\nthe helmet itself fell off.\n\nThe guests all took his side, and said that, though a cripple, he was\nbraver than many men whose legs were straight, and begged the King to\nallow him to go back to his prison without being teased further.\n\nBut the King cried that Wayland had done mischief enough, and must now\nbe punished, and told them the story of his visit to the mountain and\nthe loss of his followers.  \"It would be a small punishment to put him\nto death,\" he said, \"for to so wretched a cripple death would be\nwelcome.  He may use the gold that is left, but henceforth he shall\nonly have one eye to work with,\" and the Princess came forward and\ncarried out the cruel sentence herself.  Wayland bore it all, saying\nnothing, but praying the gods to grant him vengeance.\n\n\nPART XI.\n\nOne night Wayland sat filled with grief and despair, looking out over\nthe sea, when he caught sight of two red lights, bobbing in his\ndirection.  He watched them curiously till they vanished beneath the\ntower.\n\nSoon the key of the door turned, and two men, whom he knew to be the\nKing's sons, talked softly together.  He kept very still, and heard one\nsay: \"Let us first get as much from the chest as we can carry, then we\nwill put him to death, lest he should betray us to our father.\"\n\nThen Wayland took a large sword which lay by his side and hid it behind\nhim, and he had scarcely done so when the princes entered the prison.\n\"Greeting to you,\" said they.  \"Nidud our father has gone into the\ncountry, and as he is so greedy of wealth that he will give us none, we\nhave come here to get it for ourselves.  Hand us the key and swear not\nto tell our father, or you shall die.\"\n\n\"My good lords,\" answered Wayland, \"your request is reasonable, and I\nam not so foolish as to refuse it.  Here is the key, and I will swear\nnot to betray you.\"\n\nThe brothers took the key, and opened the chest, which was still half\nfull of gold.  It dazzled their eyes, and they both stooped down so as\nto see it better.  This was what Wayland had waited for, and, seizing\nhis sword, he cut off their heads, which fell into the chest.  He then\ndug a grave for the bodies in the floor of his dungeon.  Afterwards he\ndried the skulls, and made them into two drinking cups wrought with\ngold.  The eyes he set with precious stones, while the teeth he filed\ntill they were shaped like pearls, and strung like a necklace.\n\nAs soon as the King came back from his journey he paid a visit to\nWayland, who produced the drinking cups which he said were made of some\ncurious shells washed up in a gale.\n\nAfter some days had passed, some sailors found the princes' boat, which\nhad drifted into the open sea.  Their bodies, of course, were not to be\nfound, and the King ordered a splendid funeral feast to be prepared.\n\nOn this occasion the new drinking cups were filled with mead, and,\nbesides her necklace, Banvilda wore the ring which her father had taken\nlong ago from Wayland's house.\n\nAs was the custom, the feast lasted long, and the guests drank deeply\nand grew merry.  But at midnight their gaiety suddenly came to an end.\nThe King was drinking from the cup of mead, when he felt a violent pain\nin his head and let the vessel fall.  The hues of the armlets that the\nQueen wore became so strange and dreadful that her eyes suffered agony\nfrom looking at em, and she tore them from her arms; while Banvilda was\nseized with such severe toothache that she could sit at table no\nlonger.  The guests at once took leave, but it was not till the sun\nrose that the pains of their hosts went away.\n\n\nPART XII.\n\nIn the torture of toothache which she had endured during the night,\nBanvilda had dashed her arm against the wall, and had broken some of\nthe ornaments off the ring.\n\nShe feared to tell her father, who would be sure to punish her, and was\nin despair how to get the ring mended, when she caught sight of the\nisland on which Wayland's tower stood.  \"If I had not mocked at him he\nmight have helped me now,\" thought she.\n\nNo other way seemed to offer itself, and in the evening she loosened a\nboat and began to row to the tower.  On the way she met an old merman\nwith a long beard, floating on the waves who warned her not to go on;\nbut she paid no heed, and only rowed the faster.\n\n[Illustration: The merman warns Banvilda in vain]\n\nShe entered the tower by a false key, and, holding the ring out to\nWayland, begged him to mend it as fast as possible, so that she might\nreturn before she was missed.  Wayland answered her with courtesy, and\npromised to do his best, but said that she would have to blow the\nbellows to keep the forge fire alight.  \"How comes it that these\nbellows are sprinkled with blood?\" asked Banvilda.\n\n\"It is the blood of two young sea dogs,\" answered Wayland; \"they\ntroubled me for long, but I caught them when they least expected it.\nBut blow the bellows harder, I pray you, or I shall never be finished.\"\n\nBanvilda did as she was told, but soon grew tired and thirsty, and\nbegged Wayland to give her something to drink.  He mixed something\nsweet in a cup, which she swallowed hastily, and soon fell fast asleep\non a bench.  Then Wayland bound her hands, and placed her in the boat,\nafter which he cut the rope that held it and let it drift out to sea.\n\nThis done, he shut the door of the tower, and, taking a piece of gold,\nhe engraved on it the history of all that had happened, and put it\nwhere it must meet the King's eye when next he came.  \"Now is my hour\ncome,\" he cried with joy, snatching his spear from the wall, but before\nhe could throw himself on it he heard a distant song and the notes of a\nlute.\n\nBy this time the sun was high in the heavens, yet its brightness did\nnot hinder Wayland from seeing a large star, which was floating towards\nhim, and a brilliant rainbow spanned the sky.  The flowers on the\nisland unfolded themselves as the star drew near, and he could smell\nthe smell of the roses on the shore.\n\nAnd now Wayland saw it was no star, but the golden chariot of Freya the\ngoddess, whose blue mantle floated behind her till it was lost in the\nblue of the sky.  On her left was a maiden dressed in garlands of fresh\ngreen leaves, and on her right was one clad in a garment of red.\n\n[Illustration: The Chariot of Freya]\n\nAt the sight Wayland's heart beat high, for he thought of the lump of\ngold set with jewels, which he and his brothers had found in the\nmountain so long ago.  Fairies fluttered round them, mermaids rose from\nthe depths of the sea to welcome them, and as Freya and her maidens\nentered the prison Wayland saw that she who wore the red garment was\nindeed Alvilda.  \"Wayland,\" said the goddess, \"your time of woe is\npast.  You have suffered much and have avenged your wrongs, and now\nOdin has granted my prayer that Alvilda shall stay by you for the rest\nof your life, and when you die she shall carry you in her arms to the\ncountry of Walhalla, where you shall forge golden armour and fashion\ndrinking horns for the gods.\"\n\nWhen Freya had spoken, she beckoned to the green maiden, who held in\nher hand a root and a knife.  She cut pieces off the root and laid them\non Wayland's feet, and on his eye, then, placing some leaves from her\ngarland over the whole, she breathed gently on it.  \"Eyr the physician\nhas healed me,\" cried Wayland, and the fairies took him in their arms\nand bore him across the waves to a bower in the forest, where he\ndreamed that Alvilda and Slagfid and Eigil were all bending over him.\n\nWhen he woke Alvilda was indeed there, and he seemed to catch glimpses\nof his brothers amid the leaves of the trees.  \"Arise, my husband,\"\nsaid Alvilda, \"and go straight to the Court of Nidud.  He still sleeps,\nand knows nothing.  Throw this mantle on your shoulders, and they will\ntake you for his servant.\"\n\nSo Wayland went, and reached the royal chamber, and in his sleep the\nKing trembled, though he knew not that Wayland was near.  \"Awake,\"\ncried Wayland, and the King awoke, and asked who had dared to disturb\nhim thus.\n\n\"Be not angry,\" answered Wayland; \"had you slain Wayland long ago, this\nmisfortune that I have to tell you of would never have happened.\"\n\n\"Do not name his name,\" said the King, \"since he sent me those drinking\ncups a burning fever has laid hold upon me.\"\n\n\"They were not shells, as he told you,\" answered Wayland, \"but the\nskulls of your two sons, Sir King.  Their bodies you will find in\nWayland's tower.  As for your daughter, she is tossing, bound, on the\nwild waves of the sea.  But now I, Wayland, have come to give you your\ndeathblow----\"  But before he could draw his sword fear had slain the\nKing yet more quickly.\n\nSo Wayland went back to Alvilda, and they went into another country,\nwhere he became a famous smith, and he lived to a good old age; and\nwhen he died he was carried to Walhalla, as Freya had promised.\n\n\n\n\nSOME ADVENTURES OF WILLIAM SHORT NOSE.\n\n\nPART I.\n\nWilliam Short Nose was also styled William of Orange, quite a different\nman from the one who came to be King of England, although they both\ntook their title from the same small town in the South of France.  This\nWilliam of Orange spent his life battling with the Saracens in the\nsouth of France, and a very hard task he had, for their numbers seemed\nendless, and as fast as one army was beaten another was gathered\ntogether.\n\nNow by a great effort the Saracens had been driven back to the south in\nthe year 732, but before a hundred years had passed they had again\ncrossed the Pyrenees and were streaming over France, south of the\nLoire, and, what was worse, the men of Gascony were rising too.\n\nSome one had to meet the enemy and crush the rebels, and of all the\nsubjects of King Louis no one was so fit to lead the army of the Franks\nas William Short Nose, husband of the Lady Gibourc.\n\nIt was at the Aliscans that he met them, and a great host they were,\nspreading over the country till whichever way you looked you saw men\nflocking round the Golden Dragon, which was the banner of the Saracens.\n\nBut it was not Count William's way to think about numbers, and he\nordered his trumpeters to sound the charge.  Spurring his horse, he\ndashed from one part of the fight to the other, striking and killing as\nhe went, and heeding as little the wounds that he got as those that he\ngave, and _they_ were many.\n\nThe Franks whom he led followed after him, and slew the Saracens as\nthey came on; but the Christians were in comparison but a handful, and\ntheir enemies as the sands of the sea.\n\nThe young warriors whom William had brought with him were prisoners or\ndying men, and from far he saw Vivian, whom he loved the best, charging\na multitude with his naked sword.  \"Montjoie!  Montjoie!\" cried he, \"O\nBertrand, my cousin, come to my aid!\"\n\nBertrand heard and pressed to his side.  \"Ride to the river,\" he said,\n\"and I will protect you with my life\"; but Vivian was too weak even to\nsit on his horse, and fell half fainting at Bertrand's feet.\n\nAt this moment there rode at them a large troop of Saracens, headed by\ntheir King, Haucebier, and the Christian Knights knew that all was\nlost.  \"It is too late now for me to think of life,\" said Vivian, \"but\nI will die fighting,\" and again they faced their enemies till\nBertrand's horse was killed under him.  Then Vivian seized the horse of\na dead Saracen, and thrust the bridle into Bertrand's hand, \"Fly, for\nGod's sake, it is your only chance.  Where is my uncle?  If he is dead\nwe have lost the battle.\"\n\nBut Bertrand did not fly, though every instant made the danger more\ndeadly.  \"If I forsake you, if I take flight,\" he said, \"I shall bring\neternal shame upon myself.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" cried Vivian, \"seek my uncle down there in the Aliscans, and\nbring him to my aid.\"\n\n\"Never till my sword breaks,\" answered Bertrand, and laid about him\nharder than ever.  And to their joy they heard a war cry sounding in\ntheir ears, and five Frankish Counts, cousins of Vivian and of\nBertrand, galloped up.  Fight they did with all their might, but none\nfought like Vivian.  \"Heavens! what a warrior!\" cried the Counts as\nthey saw his blows, while the Saracens asked themselves if the man whom\nthey had killed at mid-day had been brought back to life by the help of\nfiends.  \"If we let them escape now we shall be covered with shame,\"\nsaid they, \"but ere night falls William shall acknowledge that he is\nconquered.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" said Bertrand, and with his cousins he fell upon them till\nthey fled.\n\nThe Counts were victors on this field, but, wounded and weary as they\nwere, another combat lay before them, for a force of twenty thousand\nSaracens was advancing from the valley.\n\nTheir hearts never failed them, but they had no strength left; the\nyoung Counts were all taken prisoners, except Vivian, who was left for\ndead by the side of a fountain where he had been struck down.  \"O\nFather in Heaven,\" he said, feeling his life going from him, \"forgive\nme my sins, and help my uncle, if it is Thy holy will.\"\n\nWilliam Short Nose was still fighting, though he knew that the victory\nlay with the Saracens and their hosts.  \"We are beaten,\" he said to the\nfourteen faithful comrades who stood by him.  \"Listen as you will, no\nsound of our war cry can be heard.  But by the Holy Rood, the Saracens\nshall know no rest while I am alive.  I will give my forefathers no\ncause for shame, and the minstrels shall not tell in their songs how I\nfell back before the enemy.\"\n\nThey then gave battle once more, and fought valiantly, till all lay\ndead upon the ground, save only William himself.\n\n\nPART II.\n\nNow the Count knew that if the Saracens were ever to be vanquished and\nbeaten out of fair France he must take heed of his own life, for the\ntask was his and no other man's; so he turned his horse's head towards\nOrange, and then stopped, for he saw a troop of freshly landed Saracens\napproaching him along the same road.\n\n\"The whole world is full of these Saracens!\" he cried in anger, \"God\nalone can save me.  My good horse,\" added he, \"you are very tired.  If\nyou had had only five days' rest, I would have led you to the charge;\nbut I see plainly that I can get no help from you, and I cannot blame\nyou for it, as you have served me well all day, and for this I thank\nyou greatly.  If ever we reach Orange you shall wear no saddle for\ntwenty days, your food shall be the finest corn, and you shall drink\nout of a golden trough.\"\n\nAnd the horse understood; he threw up his head, and pawed the ground,\nand his strength came back to him as of old.  At this sight William\nShort Nose felt more glad than if he had been given fourteen cities.\n\nNo sooner had he entered a valley that led along the road to Orange,\nthan he saw a fresh body of Saracens blocking one end.  He turned to\nescape into another path, but in front of him rode a handful of his\nenemies.  \"By the faith that I swore to my dear Lady Gibourc,\" he said,\n\"I had better die than never strike a blow,\" and so rode straight at\ntheir leader.  \"William!\" cried the Saracen, \"this time you will not\nescape me.\"  But the sun was in his eyes, and his sword missed his aim.\nBefore he could strike another blow William had borne him from his\nhorse and galloped away.\n\nThe mountain that he was climbing now was beset with enemies, like all\nthe rest, and William looked in vain for a way of escape.  He jumped\nfrom his horse and rubbed his flanks saying to him, \"What will you do?\nYour sides are bleeding, and you can scarcely stand; but remember, if\nonce you fall it means my death.\"\n\nAt these words the good horse neighed, pricked up his ears and shook\nhimself, and as he did so the blood seemed to flow strongly in his\nveins, as of old.  Then the count rode down into the field of the\nAliscans, and found his nephew, Vivian, lying under a tree.\n\n\"Ah!\" cried William, \"what sorrow for me!  To the end of my life I\nshall mourn this day.  Lady Gibourc, await me no longer, for never more\nshall I return to Orange!\"\n\nSo he lamented, grieving sore, till Vivian spoke to him.  The Count was\nfull of joy to hear his words, and, kneeling beside the youth, took him\nin his arms, and bade him confess his sins to him, as to his own\nfather.  One by one Vivian remembered them all, then a mist floated\nbefore his eyes, and, murmuring a farewell to the Lady Gibourc, his\nsoul left the world.\n\n[Illustration: Vivian's last confession]\n\nWilliam laid him gently down on his shield, took another shield for\ncovering, and turned to mount his horse, but at this his heart failed\nhim.\n\n\"Is it you, William, that men look to as their leader, who will do this\ncowardly deed?\" he said to himself, and he went back to his nephew's\nside, and lifted the body on to his horse, to bury it in his city of\nOrange.\n\nHe had done what he could to give honour to Vivian, but he might as\nwell, after all, have left him where he fell, for in a fierce combat\nwith some Saracens on the road the Count was forced to abandon his\nnephew's body and fight for his own life.  He knew the two Saracens\nwell as brave men, but he soon slew one, and the other he unhorsed\nafter a struggle.\n\n\"Come back, come back,\" cried the Saracen; \"sell me your horse, for\nnever did I behold his like!  I will give you for him twice his weight\nin gold, and set free besides all your nephews that have been taken\nprisoners.\"  But William loved his horse, and would not have parted\nwith him to Charles himself.\n\nAt length, after fighting nearly every step of the way, he saw the\ntowers of Orange before him, and his palace, Gloriette, where dwelt his\nwife, the Lady Gibourc.  \"Ah, with what joy did I leave these walls,\"\nhe said to himself, \"and how many noble Knights have I lost since then!\nOh, Gibourc, my wife, will you not go mad when you hear the tidings I\nhave brought!\"  And, overcome with grief, the Count bowed his head on\nthe neck of his horse.\n\n\nPART III.\n\nWhen he recovered himself he rode straight to the City Gate, and\ncommanded the porter to let him in.  \"Let down the drawbridge,\" called\nhe, \"and be quick, for time presses.\"  But he forgot that he had\nchanged his own arms, and had taken instead those of a Saracen;\ntherefore the porter, seeing a man with a shield and pennon and helmet\nthat were strange to him, thought he was an enemy, and stood still\nwhere he was.  \"Begone!\" he said to William, \"if you approach one step\nnearer I will deal you a blow that will unhorse you!  Begone, I tell\nyou, and as quick as you can, or when William Short Nose returns from\nthe Aliscans it will be the worse for you.\"\n\n\"Fear nothing, friend,\" replied the Count, \"for I am William himself.\nI went to the Aliscans to fight the Saracens, and to help Vivian; but\nall my men are dead, and I only am left to bring these evil tidings.\nSo open the gates, for the Saracens are close behind.\"\n\n\"You must wait a moment,\" answered the porter, and he quitted the\nturret and hastened to the Lady Gibourc.  \"Noble Countess,\" cried he,\n\"there knocks at the drawbridge a Knight in Pagan armour, who seems\nfresh from battle, for his arms are bloody.  He is tall of stature and\nbears himself proudly, and he says he is William Short Nose.  I pray\nyou, my lady, come with me and see him for yourself.\"\n\nThe face of Gibourc grew red when she heard the porter's words, and she\nleft the Palace and mounted the battlements, where she called,\n\"Warrior, what is your will?\"\n\n\"Oh, lady,\" answered he, \"open the gate, and that quickly.  Twenty\nthousand Saracens are close upon my track; if they reach me, I am a\ndead man.\"\n\n\"You cannot enter,\" replied Gibourc.  \"I am alone here except for this\nporter, a priest, a few children, and some ladies whose husbands are\nall at the war.  Neither gate nor wicket will be opened until the\nreturn of my beloved lord, William the Count.\"  Then William bowed his\nhead for a moment, and tears ran down his cheeks.\n\n\"My lady, I am William himself,\" said he.  \"Do you not know me?\"\n\n\"Saracen, you lie,\" replied Gibourc.  \"Take off your helmet and let me\nsee who you are!\"\n\n\"Noble Countess,\" cried he, \"this is no time to parley.  Look round\nyou!  Is not every hill covered with enemies?\"\n\n\"Ah, now I know you are not William,\" answered she, \"for all the\nSaracens in the world would never have stirred him with fear.  By St.\nPeter! neither gate nor wicket shall be opened till I have seen your\nface.  I am alone and must defend myself.  The voices of many men are\nalike.\"\n\nThen the Count lifted his helmet: \"Lady look and be content.  I am\nWilliam himself.  Now let me in.\"\n\nGibourc knew that it was indeed the Count who had returned, and was\nabout to order the gates to be opened when there appeared in sight a\ntroop of Saracens escorting two hundred prisoners, all of them young\nKnights, and thirty ladies with fair, white faces.  Each one was loaded\nwith chains, and cowered under the blows of their captors.  Their cries\nand prayers for mercy reached the ears of Gibourc, and, changing her\nmind, she said quickly: \"There is the proof that you are not William,\nmy husband, whose fame has spread far!  For he would never have\nsuffered his brethren to be so shamefully entreated while he was by!\"\n\n\"Heavens!\" cried the Count, \"to what hard tests does she put me!  But\nif I lose my head I will do her bidding, for what is there that I would\n_not_ do for the love of God and of her!\"\n\n\nPART IV.\n\nWithout a word more he turned, and spurred his horse at the Saracens.\nSo sudden and fierce was his attack that the foremost riders fell back\non those behind, who were thrown into confusion, while William's sword\nswept him a path to the centre, where the prisoners stood bound.  The\nSaracens expected the city gates to open and a body of Franks to come\nforth to destroy them, and without waiting another moment they turned\nand fled.\n\n[Illustration: The Captives--William Short-nose rides to the rescue]\n\n\"Oh, fair lord,\" called Gibourc, who from the battlements had watched\nthe fight, \"come back, come back, for now indeed you may enter.\"  And\nWilliam heard her voice, and left the Saracens to go where they would\nwhile he struck the chains off the prisoners, and led them to the gates\nof Orange, when he himself rode back to the Saracens.\n\nNot again would the Lady Gibourc have reason to call him coward.\n\nAnd Gibourc saw, and her heart swelled within her, and she repented her\nof her words.  \"It is my fault if he is slain,\", she wept.  \"Oh, come\nback, come back!\"\n\nAnd William came.\n\nNow the drawbridge was let down, and he entered the city followed by\nthe Christians whom he had delivered, and the Countess unlaced his\nhelmet, and bathed his wounds, and then stopped, doubting.\n\n\"You cannot be William after all,\" said she, \"for William would have\nbrought back the young kinsmen who went with him; and would have been\nencircled by minstrels singing the great deeds he had done.\"\n\n\"Ah, noble Countess, you speak truth,\" answered he.  \"Henceforth my\nlife will be spent in mourning, for my friends and comrades who went to\nwar with me are lying dead at the Aliscan.\"\n\nGreat was the sorrow in the city of Orange and in the palace of her\nlord, where the ladies of the Countess mourned for their husbands.  But\nit was Gibourc who first roused herself from her grief for Vivian and\nothers whom she had loved well.  \"Noble Count,\" she said, \"do not lose\nyour courage.  Remember it is not near Orleans, in safety, that your\nlands lie, but in the very midst of the Saracens.  Orange never will\nhave peace till they are subdued.  So send messengers to King Louis,\nand to your father, Aimeri, asking for aid.\"\n\n\"Heavens!\" cried William, \"has the world ever seen so wise a lady?\"\n\n\"Let no one turn you from your road,\" she went on.  \"At the news of\nyour distress all the Barons that are your kin will fly to your help.\nTheir numbers are as the sands of the sea.\"\n\n\"But how shall I make them believe in what has befallen us?\" answered\nWilliam.  \"If I do not go myself I will send nobody, and go myself I\nwill not, for I will not leave you alone again for all the gold in\nPavia.\"\n\n\"Sir, you must go,\" said Gibourc, weeping.  \"I will stay here with my\nladies, and each will place a helmet on her head, and hang a shield\nround her neck, and buckle a sword to her side, and with the help of\nthe Knights whom you have delivered, we shall know how to defend\nourselves.\"\n\nWilliam's heart bounded at her words; he took her in his arms, and\npromised that he himself would go, and that he would never lie soft\ntill he returned again to Orange.\n\n\nPART V.\n\nThus William Short Nose set forth and the next day passed through\nOrleans.  There he met with his brother Ernaut, who had ridden home\nfrom escorting King Louis back to Paris.  Ernaut promised his help and\nthat of his father and brothers, but counselled William to go to Laon,\nwhere a great feast would be held and many persons would be assembled.\nThe Count followed Ernaut's counsel, but refused the troop of Knights\nwhich Ernaut offered him, liking rather to ride alone.\n\nHe made his entrance into Laon, and the people laughed at him and made\njests on his tall, thin horse; but William let them laugh, and rode on\nuntil he reached the Palace.  There he alighted under an olive tree,\nand, fastening his horse to one of the branches, took off his helmet\nand unbuckled his breastplate.  The people stared as they passed by,\nbut nobody spoke to him.\n\nSomeone told the King that a strange man without even a squire was\nsitting before the Palace under an olive tree.  The King's face grew\ndark as he heard their tale, for he loved to keep his gardens for his\nown pleasure.  \"Sanson,\" he called to one of his guards, \"go and find\nout who this stranger is and whence he comes, but beware of bringing\nhim hither.\"\n\nSanson hastened to do his errand, and William answered, \"My name is one\nthat is known to France.  I am William Short Nose, and I come from\nOrange.  My body is worn out with much riding; I pray you hold my horse\nuntil I have spoken to King Louis.\"\n\n\"Noble Count,\" replied Sanson, \"let me first return to the King and\ntell him who you are.  And be not angry, I beseech you, for such are my\norders.\"\n\n\"Be quick, then, my friend,\" said William, \"and do not neglect to tell\nthe King that I am in great distress.  This is the time to show his\nlove for me; and if he truly does love me, let him come to meet me with\nthe great lords of his Court.  If he does not come, I have no other\nhope.\"\n\n\"I will tell him what you say,\" said Sanson, \"and if it rests with me\nyou shall be content.\"\n\nThen Sanson went back to the King.  \"It is William, the famous\nWilliam!\" he said, \"and he wishes you to go out to meet him.\"\n\n\"Never!\" answered Louis; \"will he always be a thorn in my side!  Woe be\nto him who rejoices at his coming.\"\n\nSo the King sat still, and on the steps of the Palace there gathered\nKnights and Nobles in goodly numbers, and hardly one but wore a helmet\nset with precious stones, a sword or a shield which had been given him\nby William himself.  But now they were rich and he was poor, so they\nmocked at him.\n\n\"My lords,\" said William, \"you do ill to treat me so.  I have loved you\nall, and you bear the tokens of my love about you at this moment.  If I\ncan give you no more gifts, it is because I have lost all I have in the\nworld at the Aliscans.  My men are dead, and my nephews are prisoners\nin the hands of the Saracens.  It is the Lady Gibourc who bade me come\nhere, and it is she who asks for help through me.  Have pity on us, and\nhelp us.\"  But without a word, they rose up and went into the Palace,\nand William knew what their love was worth.\n\nThe young men told Louis of the words that the Count had spoken, and\nthe King rose and leaned out of the window.  \"Sir William,\" said he,\n\"go to the inn, and let them bathe your horse.  You seem in a sorry\nplight, without a groom to help you.\"\n\nWilliam heard and vowed vengeance.  But if the King and the courtiers\nhad no hearts, in his need a friend came to him, Guimard, a citizen of\nLaon, who took the Count home and offered him rich food.  But because\nof his vow to the Lady Gibourc, he would only eat coarse bread, and\ndrink water from the spring; and as soon as it was light he rose up\nfrom his bed of fresh hay, and dressed himself.  \"Where are you going,\"\nasked his host.\n\n\"To the Palace, to entreat the aid of the King, and woe be to him who\ntries to stop me.\"\n\n\"May God protect you, Sir,\" answered Guimard.  \"To-day the King crowns\nBlanchefleur, your sister, who no doubt loves you well.  And he gives\nher for her dower the richest land in all fair France, but a land that\nis never at peace.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said William, \"I will be present at the ceremony.  Indeed they\ncannot do without me, for all France is under my care, and it is my\nright to bear her standard in battle.  And let them beware how they\nmove me to wrath, lest I depose the King of France and tear the crown\nfrom his head.\"\n\nThe Count placed a breastplate under his jerkin, and hid his sword\nunder his cloak.  The gates of the Palace opened before him and he\nentered the vaulted hall.  It was filled with the greatest nobles in\nthe land, and ladies with rich garments of silk and gold.  Lords and\nladies both knew him, but not one gave him welcome--not even his\nsister, the Queen.  His fingers played with his sword, and he had much\nado not to use it.  But while his wrath was yet kindling the heralds\nannounced that his father, Aimeri, had come.\n\n\nPART VI.\n\nThe Lord of Narbonne stepped on to the grass with his noble Countess,\nhis four sons, and many servants.  King Louis and the Queen hastened to\nmeet them, and amid cries of joy they mounted the steps into the hall.\nAimeri sat beside the King, and the Countess was seated next the Queen,\nwhile the Knights placed themselves on the floor of the hall.  And\nWilliam sat also, but alone and apart, nursing his anger.\n\nAt last he rose, and, advancing to the middle of the floor, he said\nwith a loud voice: \"Heaven protect my mother, my father, my brothers\nand my friends; but may His curse alight on my sister and on the King,\nwho have left me to be the butt of all the mockers of the Court.  By\nall the Saints! were not my father sitting next to him, this sword\nshould ere now have cloven his skull.\"  The King listened pale with\nfright, and the rest whispered to each other, \"William is angry,\nsomething will happen!\"\n\nWhen Ermengarde and Aimeri saw their son standing before them great joy\nfilled their souls.  They left their seats and flung themselves on his\nneck, and William's brother also ran to greet him.  The Count told them\nhow he had been vanquished at the Aliscans, and he himself had fled to\nOrange, and of the distress in which he had left Gibourc.  \"It was at\nher bidding I came here to ask aid from Louis, but from the way he has\ntreated me I see plainly that he has no heart.  By St. Peter! he shall\nrepent before I go, and my sister also.\"\n\nThe King heard and again waxed cold with fear; the nobles heard and\nwhispered: \"Who is strong enough to compass this matter?  No man, be he\nthe bravest in France, ever went to his help and came back to tell the\ntale.\"\n\nIt was the Lady Ermengarde who broke the silence.  \"O God,\" she cried,\n\"to think that the Franks should be such cowards!  Have no fear, fair\nson William, I have still left gold that would fill thirty chariots,\nand I will give it to those who enrol themselves under your banner.\"\n\nAimeri smiled and sighed as he listened to her words, and his sons shed\ntears.\n\nWilliam answered nothing, but remained standing in the middle of the\nhall, his eyes fixed on his sister sitting on her throne, with a small\ngolden crown upon her head, and on her husband, King Louis.\n\n\"This, then, O King, is the reward of all I have done!  When\nCharlemagne, your father, died, you would have lost your crown if I had\nnot forced the Barons to place it upon your head.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" answered the King, \"and in remembrance of your services\nI will to-day bestow on you a fief.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" cried Blanchefleur, \"and no doubt will deprive me of one.  A\nnice agreement, truly!  Woe to him who dares carry it out.\"\n\n\"Be silent, woman without shame!\" said William.  \"Every word you speak\nproclaims your baseness!  You pass your days eating and drinking, and\nlittle you care that we endure heat and cold, hunger and thirst, and\nsuffer wounds and death so that your life may be easy.\"\n\nThen he bounded forwards, and, drawing his sword, would have cut off\nher head had not Ermengarde wrenched the weapon from his hands.  Before\nhe could seize it again the Queen darted away and took refuge in her\nchamber, where she fell fainting on the floor.\n\n\nPART VII.\n\nIt was her daughter Alix, the fair and the wise, who raised her up and\nthen heard with shame the tale she had to tell.  \"How could you speak\nso to my uncle, the best man that ever wore a sword?\" asked Alix.  \"It\nwas he who made you Queen of France.\"\n\n\"Yes, my daughter, you say truth,\" answered the Queen, \"I have done\nill, I will make peace with my brother;\" and she wept over her wicked\nspeech, while Alix, red and white as the roses in May, went down into\nthe hall, where the Franks were still whispering together, and calling\ncurses on the head of William.\n\nThey all rose as the maiden entered; Aimeri, her grandfather, took her\nin his arms, and her four uncles kissed her cheek.  Her presence seemed\nto calm the anger and trouble which before had reigned throughout the\nhall, and Ermengarde flung herself at William's feet and besought his\npardon for the Queen.\n\nWilliam raised his mother from her knees, but his anger was not\nsoothed.  \"I have no love for the King,\" he said, \"and before night I\nwill break his pride,\" and he stood, his face red with wrath, leaning\non his naked sword.\n\nNot a sound was heard, and the eyes of all were fixed breathlessly upon\nWilliam.  Then in her turn Alix stepped forward and knelt at his feet.\n\"Punish me in my mother's place,\" said she, \"and cut off my head if you\nwill, but let there be peace, I pray you, between you and my father and\nmother.\"\n\nAt the voice of Alix William's wrath melted, but at first he would\npromise nothing.  \"Fair son William,\" said Ermengarde again, \"be\ncontent.  The King will do what you desire, and will aid you to the\nuttermost.\"\n\n[Illustration: The Lady Alix stays the wrath of William Shortnose]\n\n\"Yes, I will aid you,\" answered the King.\n\nSo peace was made, the Queen was fetched, and they all sat down to a\ngreat feast.  In this manner the pride of the King was broken.\n\nBut when one man is shifty and another is hasty, wrath is not apt to\nslumber long, and treaties of peace are easier made than kept.  When\nthe feast was over William pressed King Louis to prepare an army at\nonce; but the King would bind himself to nothing.  \"We will speak of it\nagain,\" said he; \"I will tell you to-morrow whether I will go or not.\"\n\nAt this William grew red with rage, and holding out a wand he said to\nthe King, \"I give you back your fief.  I will take nothing from you,\nand henceforth will neither be your friend nor your vassal.\"\n\n\"Keep your fief,\" said Ernaut to his brother, \"and leave the King to do\nas he will.  I will help you and my brothers also, and between us we\nshall have twenty thousand men to fight with any Saracens we shall\nfind.\"\n\n\"You speak weak words,\" cried Aimeri; \"he is Seneschal of France, and\nalso her Standard Bearer; he has a right to our help.\"  And Alix\napproved of his saying, and the Queen likewise.  The King saw that none\nwere on his side and dared refuse no longer.  \"Count William, for love\nof you I will call together my army, and a hundred thousand men shall\nobey your commands.  But I myself will not go with you, for my kingdom\nneeds me badly.\"\n\n\"Remain, Sire,\" answered William, \"I myself will lead the host.\"  And\nthe King sent out his messengers, and soon a vast army was gathered\nunder the walls of Laon.\n\n\nPART VIII.\n\nIt was on one of these days, when the Count stood in the great hall,\nthat there entered from the kitchen a young man whom he had never seen\nbefore.  The youth, whose name was Rainouart, was tall, strong as a\nwild boar, and swift as a deer.  The scullions and grooms had played\noff jests upon him during the night, but had since repented them\nsorely, for he had caught the leaders up in his arms and broken their\nheads against the walls.\n\nThe rest, eager to avenge their comrades' death, prepared to overcome\nhim with numbers, and in spite of his strength it might have gone ill\nwith Rainouart had not Aimeri de Narbonne, hearing the noise, forbade\nmore brawling.\n\nCount William was told of the unseemly scuffle, and asked the King who\nand what the young man was who could keep at bay so many of his\nfellows.  \"I bought him once at sea,\" said Louis, \"and paid a hundred\nmarks for him.  They pretend that he is the son of a Saracen, but he\nwill never reveal the name of his father.  Not knowing what to do with\nhim, I sent him to the kitchen.\"\n\n\"Give him to me, King Louis,\" said William, smiling, \"I promise you he\nshall have plenty to eat.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" answered the King.\n\nFar off in the kitchen Rainouart was chafing at the sound of the\nhorses' hoofs, and at the scraps of talk let fall by the Knights, who\nwere seeing to the burnishing of their armour before they started to\nfight the Saracens.  \"To think,\" he said to himself, \"that I, who am of\nright King of Spain, should be loitering here, heaping logs on the fire\nand skimming the pot.  But let King Louis look to himself!  Before a\nyear is past I will snatch the crown from his head.\"\n\nWhen the army was ready to march he made up his mind what to do, and it\nwas thus that he sought out William in the great hall.  \"Noble Count,\nlet me come with you, I implore you.  I can help to look after the\nhorses and cook the food, and if at any time blows are needed I can\nstrike as well as any man.\"\n\n\"Good fellow,\" answered William, who wished to try what stuff he was\nmade of, \"how could you, who have passed your days in the kitchen,\nsleeping on the hearth when you were not busy turning the spit--how\ncould you bear all the fatigue of war, the long fasts, and the longer\nwatches?  Before a month had passed you would be dead by the roadside!\"\n\n\"Try me,\" said he, \"and if you will not have me I will go alone, and\nfight barefoot.  My only weapon will be an iron-bound staff, and it\nshall kill as many Saracens as the best sword among you all.\"\n\n\"Come then,\" answered the Count.\n\n\nPART IX.\n\nThe next morning the army set forth, and Alix and the Queen watched\nthem go from the steps of the Palace.  When Alix saw Rainouart stepping\nproudly along with his heavy staff on his shoulder her heart stirred,\nand she said to her mother, \"See, what a goodly young man!  In the\nwhole army there is not one like him!  Let me bid him farewell, for\nnevermore shall I see his match.\"\n\n\"Peace! my daughter,\" answered the Queen, \"I hope indeed that he may\nnever more return to Laon.\"  Alix took no heed of her mother's words,\nbut signed to Rainouart to draw near.  Then she put her arms round his\nneck, and said, \"Brother, you have been a long time at Court, and now\nyou are going to fight under my uncle's banner.  If ever I have given\nyou pain, I ask your pardon.\"  After that she kissed him, and bade him\ngo.\n\n[Illustration: Alix kisses Rainouart]\n\nAt Orleans William took leave of his father and his mother, who\nreturned to their home at Narbonne; and also of his brothers, who\npromised to return to meet William under the walls of Orange, which\nthey did faithfully.\n\nHe pressed on with his army quickly till he came in sight of his native\ncity.  But little of it could he see, for a great smoke covered all the\nland, rising up from the burning towers which the Saracens had that\nmorning set on fire.  Enter the city they could not, for Gibourc and\nher ladies held it firm, and, armed with helmets and breastplates,\nflung stones upon the enemy.\n\nWhen William beheld the smoke, and whence it came, he cried: \"Orange is\nburning!  Gibourc is carried captive!  To arms!  To arms!\"  And he\nspurred his horse, Rainouart running by his side.\n\nFrom her tower Gibourc saw through the smoke a thousand banners waving\nand the sparkle of armour, and heard the sound of the horses' hoofs,\nand it seemed to her that the Saracens were drawing near anew.  \"O\nWilliam!\" cried she, \"have you really forgotten me?  Noble Count, you\nlinger overlong!  Never more shall I look upon your face.\"  And so\nsaying she fell fainting on the floor.\n\nBut something stirred the pulses of Gibourc, and she soon sat up again,\nand there at the gate was William, with Rainouart behind him.  \"Fear\nnothing, noble lady,\" said he, \"it is the army of France that I have\nbrought with me.  Open, and welcome to us!\"\n\nThe news seemed so good to Gibourc that she could not believe it, and\nshe bade the Count unlace his helmet, so that she might indeed be sure\nthat it was he.  William did her bidding, then she ran swiftly to the\ngate and let down the drawbridge, and William stepped across it and\nembraced her tenderly.  Then he ordered his army to take up its\nquarters in the city.\n\n\nPART X.\n\nGibourc's eyes had fallen upon Rainouart, who had passed her on his way\nto the kitchen, where he meant to leave his stout wooden staff.  \"Tell\nme,\" said she to the Count, \"who is the young man who bears lightly on\nhis shoulder that huge piece of wood which would weigh down a horse?\nHe is handsome and well made.  Where did you find him?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" answered William, \"he was given me by the King.\"\n\n\"My Lord,\" said Gibourc, \"be sure you see that he is honourably\ntreated.  He looks to me to be of high birth.  Has he been baptised?\"\n\n\"No, Madam, he is not a Christian.  He was brought from Spain as a\nchild, and kept for seven years in the kitchen.  But take him, I pray\nyou, under your protection, and do with him as you will.\"\n\nThe Count was hungry, and while waiting for dinner to be served he\nstood with Gibourc at the windows which looked out beyond the city.  An\narmy was drawing near; thousands of men, well mounted and freshly\nequipped.  \"Gibourc!\" cried the Count joyfully, \"here is my brother\nErnaut with his vassals.  Now all the Saracens in the world shall not\nprevent Bertrand from being delivered to-morrow.\"\n\nOn all sides warriors began to arrive, led by the fathers of those who\nhad been taken prisoners with Bertrand, and with them came Aimeri and\nthe brothers of William.  Glad was the heart of the Count as he bade\nthem welcome to his Palace, and ordered a feast to be made ready, and\nshowed each Knight where he should sit.\n\nIt was late before the supper was served, but when every man had his\ntrencher filled Rainouart entered the hall, armed with his staff, and\nstood leaning against a pillar, watching the noble company.  \"Sir,\"\nsaid Aimeri, the man whom the Saracens most dreaded, \"who is it that I\nsee standing there holding a piece of wood that five peasants could\nhardly lift?  Does he mean to murder us?\"\n\n\"That youth,\" replied William, \"is a gift to me from King Louis.  None\nliving is as strong as he.\"  Then Aimeri called Rainouart, and bade him\nsit at his side, and eat and drink as he would.  \"Noble Count,\" said\nAimeri, \"such men grow not on every bush.  Keep him and cherish him,\nand bring him with you to the Aliscans.  For with his staff he will\nslay many Pagans.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Rainouart, \"wherever I appear the Pagans will fall dead\nat the sight of me.\"  Aimeri and William laughed to hear him, but ere\nfour days were past they had learned what he was worth.\n\n\nPART XI.\n\nRainouart went back to the kitchen and slept soundly, but as he had\ndrunk much wine the cooks and scullions thought to play jokes upon him,\nand lighted some wooden shavings with which to burn his moustache.  At\nthe first touch of the flame Rainouart leapt to his feet, seized the\nhead cook by his legs, flung him on to the blazing fire, and turned for\nanother victim, but they had all fled.\n\nAt daybreak they went to William to pray for vengeance on the murderer\nof the cook.  If the Count would not forbid him the kitchen, not a\nmorsel of food would they cook.  But William only laughed at their\nthreats, and said, \"Beware henceforth how you meddle with Rainouart.\nDid I not forbid anyone to mock at him, and do you dare to disobey my\norders?  Lady Gibourc, take Rainouart to your chamber, and keep him\nbeside you.\"\n\nSo the Countess went to the kitchen and found Rainouart sitting on a\nbench, his head leaning against his staff.  She sat down by him and\nsaid graciously, \"Brother, come with me and we will have some talk\ntogether.\"\n\n[Illustration: The Lady Gibourc with Rainouart in the kitchen]\n\n\"Willingly,\" answered Rainouart, \"the more so that I can hardly keep my\nhands off these scoundrels.\"\n\nHe followed Gibourc to her room, and then she questioned him about his\nchildhood.\n\n\"Have you brothers or sisters?\" asked she.\n\n\"Yes,\" he answered, \"beyond the sea I have a brother who is a King, and\na sister who is more beautiful than a fairy,\" and as he spoke he bent\nhis head.  Something in her heart told Gibourc that this might be her\nbrother, but she only asked again, \"Where do you come from?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" he replied, \"I will answer that question the day I come back\nfrom the battle which William shall have won, thanks to my aid.\"\n\nGibourc kept silence, but she opened a chest and drew from it a white\nbreastplate that had belonged to her uncle, which was so finely wrought\nthat no sword could pierce it; likewise a helmet of steel and a sword\nthat could cut through iron more easily than a scythe cuts grass.  \"My\nfriend,\" she said, \"buckle this sword to your side.  It may be useful\nto you.\"\n\nRainouart took the sword and drew it from its scabbard, but it seemed\nso light that he threw it down again.  \"Lady,\" he cried, \"what good can\nsuch a plaything do me?  But with my staff between my hands there is\nnot a Pagan that can stand up against me, and if one escapes then let\nCount William drive me from his door.\"\n\nAt this Gibourc felt sure this was indeed her brother, but she did not\nyet like to ask him more questions, and in her joy she began to weep.\n\"Lady,\" said Rainouart, \"do not weep.  As long as my staff is whole\nWilliam shall be safe.\"\n\n\"My friend, may Heaven protect you,\" she answered, \"but a man without\narmour is soon cut down; so take these things and wear them in battle,\"\nand she laced on the helmet, and buckled the breastplate, and fastened\nthe sword on his thigh.  \"If your staff breaks, it may serve you,\" said\nshe.\n\nRainouart was proud indeed when the armour was girded on him, and he\nsat himself down well pleased at William's table.  The Knights vied\nwith each other in pouring him out bumpers of wine, and after dinner\nevery man tried to lift his iron-bound staff, but none could raise it\nfrom the ground, except William himself, who by putting forth all his\nstrength lifted it the height of a foot.\n\n\"Let me aid you,\" said Rainouart, and he whirled it round his head,\nthrowing it lightly from hand to hand.  \"We are wasting time,\" he said.\n\"I fear lest the Saracens should fly before we come up with them.  If I\nonly have the chance to make them feel the weight of my staff, I will\nsoon sweep the battlefield.\"  And William embraced him for these words,\nand ordered the trumpets to be sounded and the army to march.\n\nFrom her window Gibourc watched them go.  She saw the Knights stream\nout into the plain, their banners floating on the wind, their helmets\nshining in the sun, their shields glittering with gold.  She heard\ntheir horses neigh, and she prayed God to bless all this noble host.\n\n\nPART XII.\n\nAfter two days' march they came within sight of the Aliscans, but for\nfive miles round the country was covered by the Saracen army.  William\nsaw that some of his men quailed at the number of the foe, so he turned\nand spoke to his soldiers.  \"My good lords,\" he said, \"a fearful battle\nawaits us, and we must not give way an inch.  If any man feels afraid\nlet him go back to his own land.  This is no place for cowards.\"\n\nThe cowards heard joyfully, and without shame took the road by which\nthey had come.  They spurred their horses and thought themselves safe,\nbut they rejoiced too soon.\n\nAt the mouth of a bridge Rainouart met them, and when he saw that they\nwere part of the Christian host he raised his staff and barred their\npassage.  \"Where are you going?\" asked he.  \"To France, for rest,\"\nanswered the cowards; \"the Count has dismissed us, and when we reach\nour homes we shall see to the rebuilding of our castles, which have\nfallen into ill-repair during the wars.  Come with us, if you are a\nwise man.\"\n\n\"Ask some one else,\" said Rainouart; \"Count William has given me the\ncommand of the army, and it is to him that I have to render account.\nDo you think I shall let you run away like hares?\"  And, swinging his\nstaff round his head, he laid about him.\n\nStruck dumb with terror at the sight of their comrades falling rapidly\nround them, they cried with one voice, \"Sir Rainouart, we will return\nand fight with you.\"\n\n[Illustration: Rainouart stops the cowards]\n\nSo they turned their horses' heads and rode the way they had come, and\nRainouart followed, keeping guard over them with his staff.  When they\nreached the army he went straight to William, and begged that he might\nhave the command of them.  \"I will change them into a troop of lions,\"\nsaid he.\n\nHarsh words and gibes greeted the cowards, but Rainouart soon forced\nthe mockers to silence.  \"Leave my men alone!\" he cried, \"or by the\nfaith I owe to Gibourc I will make you.  I am a King's son, and the\ntime has come to show you what manner of man I am.  I have idled long,\nbut I will idle no longer.  I am of the blood royal, and the saying is\ntrue that good blood cannot lie.\"\n\n\"How well he speaks!\" whispered the Franks to each other, for they\ndared not let their voices be heard.\n\n\nPART XIII.\n\nNow the battle was to begin, for the two armies were drawn up in\nfighting array, and Rainouart took his place at the head of his cowards\nopposite the Saracens, from which race he sprang.\n\nThe charge was sounded, and the two armies met with a shock, and many a\nman fell from his horse and was trampled under foot.  \"Narbonne!\nNarbonne!\" shouted Aimeri, advancing within reach of a crossbow shot,\nand he would have been slain had not his sons dashed to his rescue.\nCount William did miracles, and the Saracens were driven so far back\nthat Rainouart feared the battle would be ended before he had struck a\nblow.\n\nFollowed by his troop of cowards Rainouart made straight for the enemy,\nand before him they fell as corn before a sickle.  \"Strike, soldiers,\"\nshouted he; \"strike and avenge the noble Vivian.\"\n\nRainouart and his cowards pressed on and on, and the Saracens fell\nback, step by step, till they reached the sea, where their ships were\nanchored.\n\nThen Rainouart drove his staff in the sand, and by its help swung\nhimself on board a small vessel, which happened to be the very one in\nwhich the nephews of William were imprisoned.  He laid about him right\nand left with his staff, till he had slain all the gaolers, and at last\nhe came to a young man whose eyes were bandaged and his feet tied\ntogether.  \"Who are you?\" asked Rainouart.\n\n\"I am Bertrand, nephew of William Short Nose.  Four months ago I was\ntaken captive by the Saracens, and if, as I think, they carry me into\nArabia, then may God have pity on my soul, for it is all over with my\nbody.\"\n\n\"Sir Count,\" answered Rainouart, \"for love of William I will deliver\nyou.\"\n\nSeizing the weapons of the dead Saracens, they scrambled on shore, and,\nwhile fighting for their lives, looked about for their uncle, whom they\nknew at last by the sweep of his sword, which kept a clear space around\nhim.  More than once Rainouart swept back fresh foes that were pressing\nforwards, till the tide of battle carried him away and brought him\nopposite Desrame the King.  \"Who are you?\" asked Desrame, struck by his\nface, for there was nothing royal in his dress or his arms.\n\n\"I am Rainouart, vassal of William whom I love, and if you do hurt to\nhim I will do hurt to you also.\"\n\n\"Rainouart, I am your father,\" cried Desrame, and he besought him to\nforswear Christianity and to become a follower of Mahomet; but\nRainouart turned a deaf ear, and challenged him to continue the combat.\nDesrame was no match for his son, and was soon struck from his horse.\n\"Oh, wretch that I am,\" said Rainouart to himself, \"I have slain my\nbrothers and wounded my father--it is my staff which has done all this\nevil,\" and he flung it far from him.  He would have been wiser to have\nkept it, for in a moment three giants surrounded him, and he had only\nhis fists with which to beat them back.  Suddenly his hand touched the\nsword buckled on him by Gibourc, which he had forgotten, and he drew it\nfrom its scabbard, and with three blows clove the heads of the giants\nin twain.  Meanwhile King Desrame took refuge in the only ship that had\nnot been sunk by the Christians, and spread its sails.  \"Come back\nwhenever you like, fair father,\" called Rainouart after him.\n\n\nPART XIV.\n\nThe fight was over; the Saracens acknowledged that they were beaten,\nand the booty they had left behind them was immense.  The army, wearied\nwith the day's toil, lay down to sleep, but before midnight Rainouart\nwas awake and trumpets called to arms.  \"Vivian must be buried,\" said\nhe, \"and then the march to Orange will begin.\"\n\nRainouart rode at the head, his sword drawn, prouder than a lion; and\nas he went along a poor peasant threw himself before him, asking for\nvengeance on some wretches who had torn up a field of beans, which was\nall he had with which to feed his family.  Rainouart ordered the\nrobbers to be brought before him and had them executed.  Then he gave\nto the peasant their horses and their armour in payment of the ruined\nbeans.  \"Ah, it has turned out a good bargain for me,\" said the\npeasant.  \"Blessed be the hour when I sowed such a crop.\"\n\nWilliam entered into his Palace, where a great feast was spread for the\nvisitors, but one man only remained outside the walls and that was\nRainouart, of whom no one thought in the hour of triumph.  His heart\nswelled with bitterness as he thought of the blows he had given, and\nthe captives he had set free, and, weeping with anger, he turned his\nface towards the Aliscans.\n\nOn the road some Knights met him, and asked him whither he was going\nand why he looked so sad.  Then his wrath and grief burst out, and he\ntold how he mourned that ever he had slain a man in William's cause,\nand that he was now hastening to serve under the banner of Mahomet, and\nwould shortly return with a hundred thousand men behind him, and would\navenge himself on France and her King.  Only towards Alix would he show\nany pity!\n\nIn vain the Knights tried to soften his heart, it was too sore to\nlisten.  So they rode on fast to Orange and told the Count what\nRainouart had said.\n\n\"I have done him grievous wrong,\" answered William, and ordered twenty\nKnights to ride after him.  But the Knights were received with threats\nand curses, and came back to Orange faster than they had left it,\nthinking that Rainouart was at their heels.\n\nWilliam smiled when he heard the tale of his messengers, and bade them\nbring his horse, and commanded that a hundred Knights should follow\nhim, and prayed Gibourc to ride at his side.  They found Rainouart\nentering a vessel whose sails were already spread, and all William's\nentreaties would have availed nothing had not Gibourc herself implored\nhis forgiveness.\n\n\"I am your brother,\" cried Rainouart, throwing himself on her neck; \"I\nmay confess it now, and for your sake I will pardon the Count's\ningratitude, and never more will I remind you of it.\"\n\nThere was great joy in Orange when William rode through the gates with\nRainouart beside him, and the next day the Count made him his\nSeneschal, and he was baptised.  Then William sent his brothers on an\nembassy to the King in Paris, to beg that he would bestow the hand of\nPrincess Alix on Rainouart, son of King Desrame and brother of Lady\nGibourc.  And when the embassy returned Alix returned with it, and the\nmarriage took place with great splendour; but to the end of his life,\nwhenever Rainouart felt cold, he warmed himself in the kitchen.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SWORD EXCALIBUR\n\nKing Arthur had fought a hard battle with the tallest Knight in all the\nland, and though he struck hard and well, he would have been slain had\nnot Merlin enchanted the Knight and cast him into a deep sleep, and\nbrought the King to a hermit who had studied the art of healing, and\ncured all his wounds in three days.  Then Arthur and Merlin waited no\nlonger, but gave the hermit thanks and departed.\n\nAs they rode together Arthur said, \"I have no sword,\" but Merlin bade\nhim be patient and he would soon give him one.  In a little while they\ncame to a large lake, and in the midst of the lake Arthur beheld an arm\nrising out of the water, holding up a sword.  \"Look!\" said Merlin,\n\"that is the sword I spoke of.\"  And the King looked again, and a\nmaiden stood upon the water.  \"That is the Lady of the Lake,\" said\nMerlin, \"and she is coming to you, and if you ask her courteously she\nwill give you the sword.\"  So when the maiden drew near Arthur saluted\nher and said, \"Maiden, I pray you tell me whose sword is that which an\narm is holding out of the water.  I wish it were mine, for I have lost\nmy sword.\"\n\n[Illustration: Arthur meets the Lady of the Lake and gets the sword\nExcalibur]\n\n\"That sword is mine, King Arthur,\" answered she, \"and I will give it to\nyou, if you in return will give me a gift when I ask you.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" said the King, \"I will give you whatever gift you ask.\"\n\"Well,\" said the maiden, \"get into the barge yonder, and row yourself\nto the sword, and take it and the scabbard with you.\"  For this was the\nsword Excalibur.  \"As for _my_ gift, I will ask it in my own time.\"\n\nThen King Arthur and Merlin dismounted from their horses and tied them\nup safely, and went into the barge, and when they came to the place\nwhere the arm was holding the sword Arthur took it by the handle, and\nthe arm disappeared.  And they brought the sword back to land.\n\nAs they rode the King looked lovingly on his sword, which Merlin saw,\nand, smiling, said, \"Which do you like best, the sword or the\nscabbard?\" \"I like the sword,\" answered Arthur.  \"You are not wise to\nsay that,\" replied Merlin, \"for the scabbard is worth ten of the sword,\nand as long as it is buckled on you, you will lose no blood, however\nsorely you may be wounded.\"\n\nSo they rode into the town of Carlion, and Arthur's Knights gave them a\nglad welcome, and said it was a joy to serve under a King who risked\nhis life as much as any common man.\n\n\n\n\nHOW GRETTIR THE STRONG BECAME AN OUTLAW.\n\n\nI\n\nNow Grettir had a strong wish to go to Norway, for Earl Svein had fled\nthe country after being beaten in a battle, and Olaf the Saint held\nsole rule as King.\n\nThere was also a man named Thorir of Garth who had been in Norway, and\nwas a friend of the King; this man was anxious to send out his sons to\nbecome the King's men.  The sons accordingly sailed, and came to a\nhaven at Stead, where they remained some days, during stormy weather.\n\nGrettir also had sailed after them, and the crew bore down on Stead,\nbeing hard put to it by reason of foul weather, snow and frost; and\nthey were all worn, weary and wet.  To save expense they did not put\ninto the harbour, but lay to beside a dyke, where, though perished with\ncold, they could not light a fire.\n\nAs the night wore on they saw that a great fire was burning on the\nopposite side of the sound up which they had sailed, and fell to\ntalking and wondering whether any man might fetch that fire.\n\nGrettir said little, but made ready for swimming; he had on but a cape\nand sail-cloth breeches.  He girt up the cape and tied a rope strongly\nround his middle, and had with him a cask; then he leaped overboard and\nswam across.  There he saw a house, and heard much talking and noise,\nso he turned towards it, and found it to be a house of refuge for\ncoasting sailors; twelve men were inside sitting round a great fire on\nthe floor, drinking, and these were the sons of Thorir.\n\nWhen Grettir burst in he knew not who was there; he himself seemed huge\nof bulk, for his cape was frozen all over into ice; therefore the men\ntook him to be some evil troll, and smote at him with anything that lay\nto hand; but Grettir put all blows aside, snatched up some firebrands,\nand swam therewith back to the ship.  Grettir's comrades were mightily\npleased, and bepraised him and his journey and his prowess.\n\nNext morning they crossed the sound, but found no house, only a great\nheap of ashes, and therein many bones of men.  They asked if Grettir\nhad done this misdeed; but he said it had happened even as he had\nexpected.\n\nThe men said wherever they came that Grettir had burnt those people;\nand the news soon spread that the victims were the sons of Thorir of\nGarth.\n\nGrettir therefore now grew into such bad repute that he was driven from\nthe ship, and scarcely any one would say a good word for him.  As\nmatters were so hopeless he determined to explain all to the King, and\noffer to free himself from the slander by handling hot iron without\nbeing burned.\n\nHis ill-luck still pursued him, for when all was ready in the Church\nwhere the ceremony was about to take place, a wild-looking lad, or, as\nsome said, an unclean spirit, started up from no one knew where, and\nspoke such impertinent words to Grettir that he felled him with a blow\nof his fist.\n\nAfter this the King would not allow the ceremony to go on: \"Thou art\nfar too luckless a man to abide with us, and if ever man has been\ncursed, of all men must thou have been,\" said he; and advised him to go\nback to Iceland in the summer.\n\nMeanwhile Asmund the Greyhaired died, and was buried at Biarg, and Atli\nsucceeded to his goods, but was soon afterwards basely murdered by a\nneighbouring chief, who bore him ill-will for his many friendships, and\ngrudged him his possessions.\n\nThorir of Garth brought a suit at the Thing to have Grettir outlawed\nfor the burning of his sons; but Skapti the Lawman thought it scarcely\nfair to condemn a man unheard, and spoke these wise words: \"A tale is\nhalf told if one man tells it, for most folk are readiest to bring\ntheir stories to the worser side when there are two ways of telling\nthem.\"\n\nThorir, however, was a man of might, and had powerful friends; these\nbetween them pushed on the suit, and with a high hand rather than\naccording to law obtained their decree.  Thus was Grettir outlawed for\na deed of which he was innocent.\n\nNext, Grettir's enemy Thorir of Garth heard of his whereabouts, and\nprevailed upon one Thorir Redbeard to attempt to slay him.\n\nSo Redbeard laid his plans, with the object, as it is quaintly phrased,\nof \"winning\" Grettir.  He, however, declined to be \"won,\" for Redbeard\nfared no better than Grim.\n\n[Illustration: Grettir overthrows Thorir Redbeard]\n\nHe tried to slay the outlaw while he was swimming back from his nets,\nbut Grettir sank like a stone and swam along the bottom, till he\nreached a place where he could land unseen by Redbeard.  He then came\non him from behind, while Redbeard was still looking for his appearance\nout of the water; heaved him over his head, and caused him to fall so\nheavily that his weapon fell out of his hand.  Grettir seized it and\nsmote off his head.\n\n\n\n\nDEATH OF GRETTIR THE STRONG.\n\nAbout this time, Grettir having been so many years in outlawry, many\nthought that the sentence should be annulled, and it was deemed certain\nthat he would be pardoned in the next ensuing summer; but they who had\nowned the island were discontented at the prospect of his acquittal,\nand urged Angle either to give back the island or slay Grettir.\n\nNow Angle had a foster-mother, Thurid; she was old and cunning in\nwitchcraft, which she had learnt in her youth; for though Christianity\nhad now been established in the island, yet there remained still many\ntraces of heathendom.\n\nAngle and she put out a ten-oared boat to pick a quarrel with Grettir,\nof which the upshot was that the outlaw threw a huge stone into the\nboat, where the witch lay covered up with wrappings, and broke her leg.\nAngle had to endure many taunts at the failure of all his attempts to\noutplay Grettir.\n\nOne day, Thurid was limping along by the sea, when she found a large\nlog, part of the trunk of a tree.  She cut a flat space on it, carved\nmagic characters, or runes, on the root, reddened them with her blood,\nand sang witch-words over them; then she walked backwards round it, and\nwiddershins--which means in a direction against the sun--and thrust the\nlog out to sea under many strong spells, in such wise that it should\ndrive out to Drangey.\n\nIn the teeth of the wind it went, till it came to the island, where\nIllugi and Grettir saw it, but knowing it boded them ill, they thrust\nit out from shore; yet next morning was it there again, nearer the\nladders than before; but again they drove it out to sea.\n\nThe days wore on to summer, and a gale sprang up with wet; the brothers\nbeing short of firewood, Noise was sent down to the shore to look for\ndrift, grumbling at being ordered out in bad weather, when, lo! the log\nwas there again, and he fetched it up.\n\nGrettir was angry with Noise, and not noticing what the log was, hewed\nat it with his axe, which glanced from the wood and cut into his leg,\nright down to the bone.\n\nIllugi bound it up, and at first it seemed as though the wound was\nhealed.  But after a time his leg took to paining Grettir, and became\nblue and swollen, so that he could not sleep, and Illugi watched by him\nnight and day.\n\nAt this time Thurid advised Angle to make another attempt on the\nisland; he therefore gathered a force of a dozen men together, and set\nsail in very foul weather, but no sooner had they reached open sea than\nthe wind lulled, so they came to Drangey at dusk.\n\nNoise had been told to guard the ladders, and had gone out as usual\nwith very ill grace; he thought to himself he would not draw them up,\nso he lay down there and fell asleep, remaining all day long in slumber\ntill Angle came to the island.\n\nMounting the ladders, he and his men found Noise snoring at the top;\narousing him roughly, they learned from him what had happened, and how\nGrettir lay sick in the hut with Illugi tending him.\n\nAngle thrashed Noise soundly for betraying his master, and the men made\nfor the hut.  Illugi guarded the door with the greatest valour, and\nwhen they thrust at him with spears he struck off all the spear heads\nfrom the shafts.\n\nBut some of the men leapt up on to the roof, tore away the thatch, and\nbroke one of the rafters.  Grettir thrust up with a spear and killed\none man, but he could not rise from his knee by reason of his wound;\nthe others leapt down and attacked him; young Illugi threw his shield\nover him and made defence for both in most manly wise.\n\nGrettir killed another man, whose body fell upon him, so that he could\nnot use his sword; wherefore Angle at that moment was able to stab him\nbetween the shoulders, and many another wound they gave him till they\nthought he was dead.\n\nAngle took Grettir's short sword and struck at the head of the body\nwith such force that a piece of the sword-blade was nicked out.  So\ndied Grettir, the bravest man of all who ever dwelt in Iceland.\n\n\n\n\nPRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, ABERDEEN","title":"Tales of Romance","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":26871}