The Last of the Vikings Part 17

"Wife, to be sure! The wife of a Saxon? Just think of it! I suppose I should have to run about in the woods all day, clothed in sheepskins; then I suppose I should have to creep into a hole in the earth at night.

That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

Wulfhere burst into a horse-laugh. "Perhaps you would prefer sleeping up a tree to creeping into a hole, would you?"

"I'm not going to do either. Besides, I daresay you have got a Saxon wife somewhere, for you are all deceitful--Norman and Saxon alike."

"Nonsense, Jeannette! I have no wife, or sweetheart either, and I have made up my mind now, that my wife shall be Norman--just such a wife as yourself, Jeannette."

"Why, what would such a giant as you want a wife like me for?"

"Why? Well, I can hardly answer that question, I declare. But something must be put down to your pretty face, something to your slender waist, and a good deal to something I can't explain; but I never felt anything like it before, for no sooner did I set eyes upon that pretty face of yours than I felt I should like to kiss it."

"Oh, you horrid, naughty man!" said Jeannette, slipping her slender hand into Wulfhere's huge paw, and unconsciously hitching closer to him on the log, "to try and deceive me with such nonsense! I know you are deceiving me! Why, where should we live? I don't know where _you_ live now. I should die if I had to live in the woods, and had no home. I should like a home of my own, where I could play my guitar and spin my wool, and make you some better garments than those coa.r.s.e ones you wear."

"Oh, you shall not be my wife until I can find you a home, and protect you! We shall probably have to teach the Normans another lesson or two.

Then they will listen to reason. When we have got a settlement of our own, then you shall be my wife, Jeannette."

"Oh, but I dare not! I should be frightened to live amongst the Saxons.

But you wouldn't harm a little woman like me? That would be cowardly."

"I think it would, Jeannette," said Wulfhere, pa.s.sing his arm around her slim waist, drawing her to him, and planting a kiss on her sunny cheek.

"When I go to war I should like a st.u.r.dier foe to wreak my vengeance on."

"But would you be a serf, and wear one of those horrid iron collars the serfs wear? I shouldn't like a husband who was a bondman."

"No, my pretty one, I have never been a bondman; and, what is more, I never shall. I am a Saxon freeman."

"A 'freeman'? What is a 'freeman'?"

"A freeman is one who tills his own land, and is no man's va.s.sal or bondman. I shall remain a freeman, and my sons shall be freemen after me."

At this juncture the hound gave a start, and threw back his head, at the same time giving utterance to a low, fierce growl. Presently a footstep is heard, not approaching stealthily, but crashing through the trees and underwood. Wulfhere springs to his feet; his bow is unslung, and an arrow affixed in a moment. The hound also starts to his feet, his eyeb.a.l.l.s glitter, and the veins of his neck and body are distended almost to bursting. The low branches are put aside, and the burly form of Sigurd, the dispossessed viking chieftain, emerges before them. His lowering brow and impetuous manner tell but too plainly that there is a tempest raging within him.

"Wulfhere," said he, "what does this mean?"

"What does what mean, my lord?"

"Why, the drivelling folly I have witnessed for the last half hour or more! Fitter stuff for a Norman libertine than for a Saxon freeman, and one who makes pretence of valour!"

"I am at a loss to know what you mean, my lord."

"I mean? Why, I mean that whilst I and others of thy countrymen are lurking near the haunts of these French dogs, that we may have revenge upon them, thou and thy master are toying and fooling with their women.

But enough of this! Make an end of this woman, and an end of thy folly at a blow, and thou hast then made amends."

"Indeed I shall do no such thing. This maiden and her n.o.ble mistress gave my chief his life, and it will be woe to the man who dares injure either the one or the other."

"What care I for thy master's scruples? These Normans owe us satisfaction for a thousand Saxon lives they have taken. So stand aside; I'll do my own business."

"Indeed you will do no such thing, until you have disposed of me;" and Wulfhere threw himself boldly in front of Sigurd.

"Ah, art thou insolent into the bargain, dog? I will chastise thy bravado out of thee if thou stand not aside;" and he grasped the hilt of his sword.

Wulfhere, seeing the movement, and having no sword, sprang upon him and dealt him a stinging blow with his clenched fist. So violently was this given that, st.u.r.dy as he was, Sigurd reeled back several paces.

"Ah, is that it, my buck? Then I'll have thee with thine own weapon, for I do not need to take any advantage of a varlet like thyself!"

So saying, he rushed on Wulfhere, with intent to come to close quarters.

But Wulfhere knew well the great personal strength of his bulky antagonist, so he dodged with great agility every effort Sigurd made to grapple with him. And he did not fail to deal him repeatedly heavy blows with his clenched fists. This so exasperated Sigurd that he was as furious as a mad bull, and for a considerable time it seemed to be a battle between brute force and agility, the balance being much in favour of the more agile. Unfortunately, a trip on the part of Wulfhere, over the root of a tree, gave Sigurd the chance he had been vainly striving for. Ere he could recover himself, Sigurd gripped him in his powerful embrace, and gathering him up as though he were a child, he hurled him to the ground, exclaiming, "Now I will kill thee, churl!" and he grasped him by the throat. The hound, which had been dancing round the combatants during the fray, with many furious and irresolute darts at Sigurd, seeing Wulfhere in such desperate straits, sprang upon Sigurd, and buried his teeth in the fleshy part of his arm.

CHAPTER XIX.

ALICE DE MONTFORT AND THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN.

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."

Shakespeare.

The boat containing Oswald and Alice, impelled by the strong arms of the Saxon chieftain, sped along swiftly through the magnificent scenery.

"Now, lady, what think you? Did I speak truly when I praised the scenery?"

"Yes. Truly it would be an earthly paradise if it were not for the greed and cruelty of man. I think it richer and grander in these leafy solitudes than anything I have seen; or else it is because it fits my taste so wondrously."

"Yes. I cannot say, lady, that I hope you and your people will long enjoy the new home you have found, for I confess to you I cherish most ardent desires to be its lord again; though I think I can renounce my hopes, and well-nigh welcome exile if you are to be its mistress, and I may be permitted to look with unsinning eyes upon a form which has become even dearer to me than freedom and home. I doubt me, however, this latter wish may not be, for I hear some Norman knight claims your hand."

"My father has affianced me to one of the knights of his retinue; but this betrothal is without my consent, if I may be so bold as to confess it to a stranger. Indeed, I care not to disguise the fact that it is a most hateful alliance, and most abhorrent to me. I shall much prefer, if I may be permitted, to retire to a convent in my native land, rather than wed a man so incapable of inspiring either my love or my respect as this Baron Vigneau."

"I am afraid it is I who am too bold, in intruding in so delicate a matter, and one so remote from my concerns. But I would fain think, and hope, that the Count will not press a loveless marriage upon you; to do such violence to your affections would be cruel."

"My father is a soldier, Sir Knight, seared and blunted by his calling, and sentiment has little place in his nature. Latterly, also, I have noticed moroseness of disposition creeping over him; and upon this question he is more stern and peremptory than ever he was wont to be, and I lose heart and hope. Indeed, I am in sore straits. And your intrusion--if intrusion it be--I recognise is dictated by sympathy; and I stand much in need of this."

"I would I could convey to you, lady, in adequate terms--terms in which I should not be presumptuous--how honoured I should be if I could serve you in any way whatever. My resources, my men--nay, believe me, lady, for exaggeration would be most gross--my life is at your disposal, fully and unreservedly."

"I would fain accept of you as an ally and a friend, for I stand alone, and have not even a confidante, saving my maid, and I find the iron wills of my father and Vigneau completely bear me down; and if I escape from the toils of Vigneau, some stronger arm will have to interpose a rescue."

"I am but a Saxon outlaw, lady, a wolfshead, landless, penniless, and hunted; but if you can bethink you how I may serve you, my arm is strong, and my sword's edge unblunted. If time but tarry a while, I am confident something may be done to set you free from the life-long misery of a union with Vigneau; and I know enough of him to convince me that there is no community of taste or of disposition between you. I dare not say more, for my presumptuous heart runs riot with my understanding, and I may say things most unbefitting my present desperate estate."

"Make no apology, worthy knight," said Alice, blushing scarlet, then pale and trembling, "for your worldly misfortunes. A knight despoiled, but not disgraced, has no need to humble himself to me. Gold and lands are at best but an accident, but virtue and n.o.bility of character are the slow growth of virtuous thinking and n.o.ble endeavour. And which, think you, valiant Saxon, are most highly valued by a simple maiden like myself? You are my debtor, you say; then here is an enterprise will tax your wisdom--I fear your prowess also. Doughty knights have in past times, it is said, effected wonderful deliverances for maidens in distress. Is it only the language of romance? I will not affectedly profess that I do not understand your language; but there is a challenge for you. If lightly won, Sir Knight, I may be lightly worn."

Now this high-born maiden was cultured, virtuous, womanly, and, moreover, she was young--a matter to be taken note of, for maidens then do not often dilute the gift of the heart with worldly considerations; but only few men are capable of winning such love. Does it require great tact, address, astuteness--such as men employ to catch some young colt, unbroken, shy, and suspicious? No. Whenever such love is won, it is won easily, without laying of siege, or clever generalship; in fact, astuteness, or tactics of any sort, are fatal to success. It is not a bargain, a huckstering _quid pro quo_. It is an inspiration, an intuition. It is a rush of all that is holiest, truest, tenderest, and trustful in woman towards the man who is capable of inspiring it, and of setting free the abounding wealth of a woman's heart. What conditions does it demand? Well, these are essentials: it asks for broad and ample strength to lean upon without misgiving. It demands an integrity that may be trusted to the uttermost, beyond the bounds where prudence, discretion, and kindred virtues cry halt. It asks the frankness and transparency of soul where nothing is hidden, and where there are no dark corners, suspicious and unreadable, suggestive of things to be disguised with care. When these qualities are present, they are luminously visible to a woman's intuitions, and the citadel of her heart is won easily and without capitulation terms. There are more hearts won at short notice than cynics would allow; but it is the spontaneous embrace of the divine that is in us, and alas! there is little of the divine in most mortals.

As the foregoing words fell from the lips of Alice, Oswald started forward as though electrified, and laid his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Believe me, lady," said he, "I never dared to dream such a cup of blessedness would be held to my lips; and I a.s.sure you I needed no other stimulus than the debt of grat.i.tude I owe to you for my deliverance from death, in order to brave anything and everything for you. But if there be hope, however remote, of winning a place in your affections, as my desperate estate has already moved your compa.s.sion, and that some day, in happier circ.u.mstances, I may even dare to ask you to be my bride, such an inpiration will nerve my arm and brace my energies, so that difficulties shall be most desperate if I overcome them not."