The Last of the Vikings Part 29

"I fear me, Father, that the fierce war-spirit of my ancestors reigns in my heart. I am more than half heathen, it seems to me. I have been hoping for revenge for a murdered father and brother, and for a ravished country. They tell me the fair Torfrida, forsaken by her lord, this Hereward, has taken shelter in the monastery of Crowland. Shall I join her there? This fierce agitation is more than I can bear."

"What does thy heart say, Ethel?"

"My heart is not to be trusted, Father, for 'tis wayward and wilful, and there is strong need for some curb, some overmastering restraint, to crush its fierce revolt."

"Thine, I fear, Ethel, is not the nature to bear easily the constraints of the cloister, unless it were first schooled by the iron rod of discipline. Listen to nature's own prompting; I fancy it declares strongly for the freer life of the camp and the field. There is scope for activity, and I think a fair measure of protection, where Oswald is.

On his virtue, wisdom, and valour, much depends, and I believe he will be equal to winning many privileges for us."

"Father, may I confide a maiden's secret to thee? I love him whom thou hast named. 'Twere heaven, indeed, to share his toils and privations--nay, even to be near him. But 'tis _agony_, and soon I fear it will be _sin_. His heart has fallen captive to a Norman lady who saved his life, and I know he cannot be mine. Advise me, Father, in this sore strait, I beseech you."

"Thy love is unknown to him, my child, is it not?"

"He knows not; I could not bear it for one hour if he knew it."

"'Tis a hard lesson, my poor child, but thou mayest have to learn that the _essence_ of love is _sacrifice_. The human heart will not be hindered here, but will raise its own altar, free of all dictation.

Alas! full oft it must offer itself, and be both priest and victim. Many are the sad hearts that here have offered sacrifice before thy day.

Alas! many here will offer a hopeless, heart-consuming sacrifice when thou art gone. If it should be that there is demanded of thee a painful act of self-renouncement, strength and fort.i.tude are always given us when we are minded to do a brave deed. I shall be near, my child; let us await what Providence has in store for us calmly. Lie down upon my couch, and rest. I will lay this matter before our people, and I will not be long."

I immediately gathered up the letter, which had fallen at my feet, and betook myself to the yeoman's dwelling-house, and knocked at the door.

There was immediately a hush of voices, and some one under his breath said, "Who knocks?" "Adhelm," said I. My voice was well known to many who were inside, and the door was opened without more ado. Gathered here, evidently in secret conclave, were Sigurd and a number of the followers of the Prince. Their lowering brows told me plainly that mischief was brewing; nevertheless, I determined to execute my purpose, come what might. The Prince said,--

"What wouldest thou have with us, reverend Father? We are now discussing purposes of bloodshed, unfitted, I fear, for saintly ears. But if thou wilt be brief, our royal pleasure shall be at thy service."

"I am afraid my message is one which can scarcely be welcome to your Highness's ears; nevertheless, it is enjoined upon a bishop that he be found faithful."

"Well, be faithful an' thou wilt, Bishop; but let not thy exordium be drawn out any longer than is necessary. So to the point without further prevarication, an' it please you."

"Well, to the point then, Prince," said I. "I hold in my hands an epistle, which purports to have come from your Highness, and is addressed to the Saxon maiden, Ethel. I would fain know if it is indeed from yourself."

"What have I to do to answer thy impertinent questions, priest?" said he, s.n.a.t.c.hing the letter from my hands.

"Since it is so, and as I feared, I have to denounce thee, Prince, as becomes my office; and I say fearlessly that the offering of dishonouring proposals such as these to a virtuous and gentle maiden, is an act of unblushing infamy, and I disown thee and thy cause."

"I am a thousand times thy debtor, dog of a priest, if thou wilt rid me of thy presence, and of all such eavesdropping carrion, who worm themselves into the secrets of silly wenches, to the annoyance of their betters."

"Stay a moment, sire," said Sigurd, who was evidently in a towering rage. "I would know further of this matter. If thou hast offered an insult to this girl, to this Ethel, _I_ have something to say to thee, as well as this priest. Let me see that letter," said he, striving to take it from the Prince's hand; but the Prince hastily drew back, and attempted to tear it in pieces. Sigurd instantly grasped him with his iron fists, and wrung the letter from him as though he were a child; then, handing it to me, he said, "Read it for us, priest. I have no scholar's gear."

I took the epistle and read it in the hearing of the a.s.sembled company.

When I had finished it, Sigurd drew his sword, and stalking up to the Prince, he said,--

"I will cut thy craven soul from thy craven body for offering this insult to the daughter of Beowulf."

Half a dozen hands, however, immediately grasped him, and kept him from his purpose; but, standing like a tiger at bay, his words coming hissing through his foaming lips with tumultuous rage, he shouted,--

"I disown thee, too, dastardly villain, for I perceive there is not a drop of honest blood, either Saxon or Skald, in thy craven body! Get thee gone quickly, for I warn thee to pollute no longer Saxon soil with thy loathsome, cowardly presence. And beware, too! for if to-morrow's sun finds thee within reach of my arm, I will avenge this insult in thy coward's blood."

I confess I could not but look with admiration on this st.u.r.dy descendant of the Viking rovers. Though he was rough and uncouth as the wild hills of Westmoreland, over which he had hunted and fought from his youth, yet he loved the beautiful Ethel with a love as deep and pure as a mother's--a love so utterly unselfish that he would willingly renounce his hope and his claim, nor murmur if Ethel's love should find its requital in the love of Oswald. But he was beside himself with rage when he found that this fair Saxon, whose love was of priceless value to him, should be deemed a fitting object of this princeling's insults. It is needless to say that this unprincipled act alienated finally the small remnant of Saxons who hitherto had hoped to see Edgar occupy the throne, last filled by the valorous Harold.

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

BADGER ON THE ALERT.

"A thing of shreds and patches."

Shakespeare.

After the incidents narrated in the foregoing chapter, there followed a scene of complete disorder. Many of those who were well affected towards the Prince and his cause, fell away from him, and quitted the dwelling with Sigurd and myself; and speedily the Atheling was left quite alone, saving his personal friends, who had journeyed with him from Scotland, and who were mostly foreigners.

Whilst this had been transpiring, most of the camp was wrapped in profound slumber. The followers and housecarles who had accompanied their masters, had found resting-places in the outhouses, amid the hay and bracken which had been acc.u.mulated for the fodder and bedding of the cattle during the winter months. But Badger was ill at ease amid it all.

Some presentiment of evil disturbed his slumbers, and he turned uneasily again and again; finally he sprang bolt upright, and grasped his sword, at the same time giving Wulfhere a rough shake, which thoroughly roused him also on the instant.

"What is the matter, Badger? Anything amiss?"

"Hush! there are men astir in the camp. I warrant there is some mischief abroad, and I'll know the bottom of it."

At that moment two men entered stealthily at the farther end, where the horses were stalled. Wulfhere and Badger drew their swords, and instinctively ran their fingers down the blades in the darkness. The movements of the two men were plainly visible to the watchers, for the moonlight streaming in through the open door showed their outline very distinctly as they moved to and fro. Immediately the men began to saddle several horses belonging to the Prince, and then they led them out.

"There is a move of some sort, Wulfhere, and I warrant mischief is in it, for there are snakes about. A murrain on them! I am determined to know what it means. You stay here," said Badger--he, at the same time, stealing noiselessly out at the opposite end of the building.

As soon as he reached the open air, he saw, across the enclosure, that there were lights in the dwelling; so he nimbly dodged round, keeping in the shadow of the buildings, until he reached the rear of the house.

There, peering through a crazy, patched window, he not only saw what was going on inside, but he overheard this conversation between the Atheling and his favourite Alred:--

"My stomach will stand no more on't, sweet Alred. Such a ruffian, boorish crew are not fit company for a prince. Then I believe that huge, over-grown Norse clown would carry out his threat, and take my life in a moment, if he got the chance. Curses on them all! Upon my soul, I wish the Normans would swoop down upon them, and cut the vile hogs into mincemeat."

"Bravo, Prince! That is a Heaven-sent suggestion, upon my soul!"

interjected Alred. "I match you against any one of the seven sages.

Whew! it just jumps with my humour. The Normans are in force, too, not more than half a dozen miles away. What a _tour-de-force_ to bring the Normans down upon them by the morning! 'Twould be a stroke of policy William could not excel. Ah! look here--speaking of William: he would load you with favours, and replenish your royal treasury bountifully; then, heigho! there would always be a flowing bowl of Rhenish, or good Canary, and the sweet blue eyes of my lady-love would sparkle again. A fig for a kingdom, and the toiling and moiling of it! Give me the jolly life where care sits lightly, and my own sweet will can be indulged. To Rouen, say I again, with William's goodwill and his gold pieces!"

"Let us away, Alred! Upon my soul, revenge is sweet. You say right, too; when one does a service for William, there follow royal gifts enow. I would rather have a double purpose than a bootless errand, any day?

Where are the churls who are saddling the horses?"

Having overheard this speech, Badger darted back to his comrade, who was awaiting his return impatiently.

"Heigho, Wulfhere! this princeling plots mischief. He will betray the camp, the hound, I do believe. Come along; let us dog his footsteps."

So the pair sallied out of the enclosure in the wake of the Prince, his parasites, and several serving-men. The party slowly threaded their way through the woods and entered a narrow defile between precipitous hills on either side; all the while being steadily followed by the two Saxons.

Suddenly, on one side, the mountain range came to an abrupt termination, ending in a bold promontory running up to a point. At this juncture the valley broadened out into magnificent proportions, and a s.p.a.cious lake of water gleamed in the darkness. Turning to the left, they skirted the lake for a couple of miles or more. Suddenly, however, they were confronted by a pair of Norman sentries, who challenged the party, and some time was spent in _pourparlers_; then one of the sentries accompanied them to the Norman encampment, not more than a quarter of a mile away, the lurid light of their fires making visible some portions of the Norman quarters.

Wulfhere and Badger were obliged to come to a halt, for the remaining sentry barred their further progress, even if they dared come nearer the encampment of the enemy. They waited and watched until they saw the forms of the Prince and his followers come within the circle of light thrown off by the blazing wood fires.

"Now," said Wulfhere, "there is nothing more to be done, Badger, I think. Let us go back now, and promptly warn our friends."

"Hold there, Wulfhere; there is something more to be done. Get _thee_ back, and do thine errand. I have a little further business here, I can see. Tell the Earl I shall be rounding the great Nab's Head about break of day."

"What hast thou in the wind, Badger? Thou wilt be hazarding one prank too many some of these days."