The Last of the Vikings Part 28

"Heyday, so say I! Scrambling over moor and bog hither was bad enough, but parleying with quarrelsome thanes and with vulgar braggart churls such as these, I would not endure with a kingdom thrown into the bargain. Your Majesty probably thinks different."

"Whew! Not I, Alred! These garlic-bred swine have no more regard for the person of a prince than for a scurvy villein. A malediction on them!

They would pick my bones within a week, were I to attempt to rule them.

By the bye, that huge Danish boor stood by me. I wish he had been at the bottom of the sea, for all that, when he enticed me on this fool's errand. What is the lout's name? Sigurd?"

"The same, my lord. But be advised, for at bottom he's as loutish and as snarling as the very worst of them, and I would not trust my head in his jaws for a moment; for as we pa.s.sed him but yesterday, in our courtly attire, I heard him under his breath snorting and grumbling like a boar with a spear between his ribs. The churl! Would he have his Prince dress like a scurvy swineherd?"

"Beshrew me, Alred, I never could make pretence of ruling such unwashen clowns. And then, into the bargain, every snarling villein elects to be king over his own starveling crew, and there would be a king for every rood of land in England. I'll no more of it, Alred! I thank Heaven my skin is whole to go back to Scotland with."

"A wise resolve, I swear. Make further oath of fealty to William, and take his subsidies. Then heigho! for a jolly life at the court of Malcolm! or, what is better still, to Rouen, where summer's sun tarries longer, and winter's frosts pinch not the daintiest fingers. There dark-eyed beauties are kinder, and easier in the wooing. That is Alred's philosophy. Canst thou gainsay the wisdom of it, my Prince?"

"Alred, thou know'st well the joints of my armour; thou hast pierced a vulnerable spot. I vow thou hast waked one pleasant memory, sweet Alred; and there is but one sunny spot in this dreary wilderness of insubordination and braggadocia."

"What is it, my Prince? Has some nymph awoke the tender pa.s.sion of love in thy breast?"

"Rightly guessed, Alred! Did'st thou mark the fair Saxon, whose fiery zeal for our cause has been so marked. I did not fail to notice she marked me much and often, and I flatter myself her admiration extends not only to our cause, but also to our royal person. How sayest thou? By our Lady, a prize like that would be some recompense for our sickening and intolerable journey over the wretched moors atween us and Scotland."

"Thou hast the eye of an eagle, puissant Prince, or, to be more correct, the eye of a vulture. I had hoped this pretty bird would fall to my net.

But alas! thy eye has seen this comely virgin, and I am undone, I trow.

Why, I have already pranked myself before her with some success; but now I shall lose my quarry."

"Come, come, my jackal! don't despise thine office. Why, man, I never grudge thy picking the bones, when our royal self hath fed."

"Small thanks is enow for what is left when your gorge rises at it,--with my humble submission."

"Enough, enough! Canst thou get speech of her? Thou canst bear a message which should be gratefully received. Tell her her Prince would like to tender her his special thanks for her great zeal and devotion to his cause; and invite her hither."

"Have a care, my Prince, and bait your hook daintily. Think you you will catch your fish with the bare hook? By all the saints, I tell you I saw forked lightning playing about her eyes when I incautiously gave play to a little premature pleasantry. Nothing but an imperturbable and brazen countenance prevented my being transfixed with a thunderbolt. It would be better to make a great show of bravery, and talk of plans for the recovery of the kingdom; throwing in battles, sieges, and valorous hotch-potch of that sort, by the bushel. You will have to tie this filly with a pretty long tether, or you are undone, for she's high-spirited and mettlesome enough for anything."

"Good, my amba.s.sador-in-chief; thy wisdom never fails. Would I had my kingdom, sweet Alred, if 'twere only that I might make thee lord high chancellor! To be forewarned is to be forearmed: the net shall be a silken one. But now not another word, for expectancy is on tiptoe. Do thine errand, and I will bestow on thee further tokens of my regard if good luck go with thee."

"Pardon me, sire! If I am qualified to be lord high chancellor, I am qualified to give a little further advice in this matter."

"What is it, Alred? Prithee, come to the point at once: none of thy sermons. When I am king thou shalt be court preacher, if thou affect that office; but spare me now, an' thou lovest me."

"Well, here it is. When fair maids of this quality have favours to grant, mark me, they will have it done daintily. Faugh! What do you take her for? Don't trust to second-hand dealings too much. Vulgar eyes looking on at it! Pshaw! What a stomach you credit her with! Listen.

This must be a grand pa.s.sion; you are entranced, bewitched, dying for very love of the matchless queen of your heart! Mark me, pitch your notes high if you would have this pretty bird come fluttering to your bower. Why, canst thou not rhyme a maudlin verse or two? Come, cudgel thy brains, and I will help thee with a stave; here are writing materials."

"Ha, ha, ha! I like thy notions. Come, thou shalt draw us up a rhyme, such as the gallant knights of Normandy address to their lady-loves. By my soul, I am three parts Norman, and the other part is not Saxon. So I'll superscribe no screeching Saxon verse. I declare 'tis a language which is a cross between the screech of a witch and the grunt of a hog.

Something elegant, or I'll none of it, mark me, Alred."

"Well, it shall be something lofty, I warrant, as becomes a prince. So here goes:--

"Fair maid of the flaxen hair, And eyes of the heavenly blue,"----

"Bravo! Ha, ha, ha! Go it, sweet Alred? 'Tis fine! I'll sing that at my lady's tent door. Get me thy guitar."

"Pray don't interrupt me, my King. The poetic fire is burning; don't let us miss the glow of it.

"Fair maid of the flaxen hair, And eyes of the heavenly blue, Whose graces bewitchingly rare Have sweetly enchanted my view.

"Oh! haste to thy Prince ever true, Whose adored one ever thou art.

Thy presence shall sweetly renew The joy to my languishing heart."

"Bravo! By my soul, Alred, I swear 'tis fine! 'Twould fetch St.

Elizabeth from her pedestal."

"Well, if it will do, draw us up your proposal atop of it, sire, and I'll try its effect upon this dainty bird of a Saxon."

"Nay, marry! not I, Alred. I'll not spoil thy elegant rhyme by adding to't my bungling prose. Finish up thy letter handsomely, as 'tis begun, and I'll affix my seal."

"By our Lady, I'll promise many things, then, which thou wilt not perform, I warrant. Here it is; listen to't,--

"'FAIR SAXON,--Thy Prince is entranced, bewitched, by thy incomparable loveliness. My throne, my kingdom, were nothing compared with thee. Come to me; I vow to make thee the proudest dame in England. Fly to the arms of your impatient, expectant lover,

"'EDGAR THE ATHELING.'

"Now affix your sign-manual, sire. I warrant this would make the hearts of half the damsels at the court of Malcolm frantic with delight. Mark me, this falcon will strike his quarry quick; if not, I vow I will not fly another this side Martinmas. Wish me luck, and a share in the spoil anon, my Prince."

So saying, Alred b.u.t.toned up his doublet, buckled on his sword, and, with the rakish air of an unprincipled Norman gallant, he swaggered off to the tent of Ethel. There, after many foppish grimaces, and much foolish adulation, he delivered the missive into her hands; adding to it suggestions and explanations which Ethel scarce comprehended, and we cannot chronicle.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

PRINCE AND VIKING.

"This hand, to tyrants ever sworn the foe, For freedom only deals the deadly blow; Then sheathes in calm repose the vengeful blade, For gentle peace in freedom's hallowed shade."

John Quincy Adams.

My vespers were done, and I was bethinking me of retiring to rest, when I heard the plaintive voice of Ethel beseeching me to let her come within my tent. I had scarce time to reply when the poor child came rushing into my tent, bathed in tears, and in great distress. I soothed her as best I could. Then I gently inquired as to the cause of her grief, when, without answering me, she thrust into my hand the letter of the Prince. "I scarce know what he means," she said, burying her face in her hands.

I read the letter with a burning sense of shame and indignation, and my heart ached for this poor child who, in the purity of her patriotism and her unquenchable love for her country and the Saxon cause, had braved this rough journey and its exposure, in the hope that her woman's devotion might nerve the arms of the remnant of Saxon leaders still left to the cause. But this ghastly unmasking of a Prince who was false, fickle, shameless, and altogether worthless, was a cruel wound to her--a wound that would fester and rankle, but was destined never to heal again. She quietly lifted her tear-stained face, and timidly inquired, "Is it as I feared, Father?"

"Alas! my child," said I, "'tis a vile, dishonouring missive, and altogether without excuse. To come from a prince, and from a would-be king also--'tis sad to think of it."

"My country! my unhappy country! what will become of thee?" was the heart-broken exclamation as she fell at my feet, her long, fair hair falling in dishevelled tresses around.

"Comfort thee, my poor child," said I, though I scarce had heart or hope for anything. I endeavoured to calm her with such soothing, hopeful words as I had at command; but I saw that words were in vain.

"Father," said she, "my life is a weary burden. My people's woes are breaking my heart. I had vainly hoped that our scattered and hunted people might have been rallied by the presence amongst them of their Prince--that factions would have come together, and a bold stand might have been made for liberty; but to find my Prince so poor in valour and so rich in all cowardly and licentious feeling--so bereft of honour and chivalry as to offer dishonourable proposals to a forlorn and wretched girl like myself--this is more than I can bear. I have watched and prayed these two nights, hoping that favouring Heaven would smile upon us again, and upon this council. But as I watched in lonely vigil, I could hear no answering voice, saving the soughing of the night-winds in the pa.s.ses of these lonely hills; and they seemed to bear no message to me, saving a message of desolation and death. Is there any rest, any joy, for one like me in life, Father? Surely the grave is the only hope for me!"

"My poor child," said I, "let us not think of death until He who gave us life shall say 'It is enough.' Let us obey, and submit to the chastening hand of our Father in heaven. Perhaps we err greatly in cherishing thoughts of resistance and of bloodshed. Let us rejoice that there is a kingdom which is stable, and which shall know no end; whose Prince is the Prince of Peace. Angels are its heralds, and saints its warriors.

Love and mercy are the twin pillars of our Prince's throne; and gentle hands and loving hearts may battle for His supremacy. 'Tis a Kingdom in which torn and bleeding hearts may find the herb called heartsease, and sweet content. Into this Kingdom let us press, my child, and for it let us contend, for the kingdoms of this world are fickle, and built up on fraud and wrong; and they will ultimately shrivel up and pa.s.s away like the mists of the morning, and be no more."