The Last of the Vikings Part 12

"Ay, ay! that I have, master."

"If thou likest to bring thy wife to Tarnghyll, where we are sheltering for the present, she and the little ones will be much safer, and thy wife Eadburgh will be useful to Lady Ethel. By-the-bye, thou hast a brace of falcons and some fis.h.i.+ng gear, I see; and I warrant there is a ferret or two in that hutch outside. Every man to his craft, and marry, thine is a serviceable one just now. If thou wilt do thine office for thy mistress and the rest of us, why then bring thy tackle, and thou shalt ply thy craft for us, and be a.s.sured we shall not grumble if thou waste an occasional shaft upon the b.u.t.tocks of any bold or prying Norman. Hast thou any of thy comrades, servants of the worthy Thane Beowulf, hiding hereabouts who are willing to take a new master? If there are, bring them along with thee, for any one st.u.r.dy enough to despise the Norman yoke, and anxious to loose a shaft in defence of the Saxon's cause, will be heartily welcomed, for we purpose a venture in which a man who can shoot straight will do us good service."

"That will be blithe news, I trow, for there are a number of the housecarles of the worthy Thane, my late master, who are casting about for something more settled-like than the wolf's-head life of the forest.

In truth, there will be a merry gathering of stout outlaws at the hermit's cave on Crowfell at nightfall. I would be keen to carry your message to this trysting. At our last gathering the talk ran much on your defence of the castle, and some of these are forest men and outlaws who range the woods as far south as Sherwood. Anyway, I warrant me the natives of these parts will hear the news with rare glee, for a dalesman likes to keep in the shadow of his hills and fells. Stout men at a push you'll find them, and ready to stand to their weapons with the best, and as slippery as eels when they must s.h.i.+ft for themselves. Say the word, and I'll see it runs through these parts like a heather-fire in a stiff breeze."

"Good! Bretwul, stir up these fellows, the more the merrier, for we are not going to play hide-and-seek with these Normans, and the stouter the mustering the better we can deal with them."

Bretwul's wife set before the visitors a stout repast--spoils of the chase and the flood--for Bretwul was an adept at his vocation. The visitors also were well supplied with hunger-sauce, and they did rare justice to it.

"Well, Badger," said Oswald, "you seem to have taken such a liking to your new friends that you could not bear parting with them on any terms, so we must leave you behind, and wish them joy of their friend."

"Gramercy, master, it is true! I am such a simple fellow that I can wag a paw with these Normans in all meekness and humility; but I have a snare or two set on my own account, and the game always finds its way fellward. Leave me alone, I'll wriggle through it somehow; and, by our Lady, I've had no broken bones thus far."

So Oswald, Wulfhere, and Ethel sped them on their way--Ethel being accommodated with the spare horse.

"Come, Ethel, my girl, you must dry those eyes, for I shall take note each day, be a.s.sured, to see how the suns.h.i.+ne comes back again to your countenance," said Oswald, pleasantly.

"I am afraid I shall prove to be a great burden, and very little of a help to you in your struggles."

"Oh, yes; you will be just such a burden as the wild flowers, as little tending and as fragrant and beautiful as they."

Ethel blushed scarlet, and made haste to change the subject. "Do you think, my lord, this Norman Count is bent on exterminating all Saxons who do not yield them va.s.sals to him?"

"Nay, Ethel girl, why this formality? I used to be Master Oswald; I pray you let the honest Saxon name suffice. I cannot tell what De Montfort intends, but I fear he will let nothing slip that he can by any means grasp; but I have determined I will know the best or the worst of his intentions. I shall open negotiations with him, and ascertain, if possible, if he purposes we shall dwell in peace and as freemen."

"But you will not venture so far as to put yourself in his power? I pray you, trust them not, for they are insatiable in their cruelty," said Ethel anxiously.

"No fear, Ethel, of my putting myself in his power. Having once tasted the horrors of captivity I shall not risk its repet.i.tion rashly; but I have a plan, and I shall speak with him face to face. I may tell you, despite the many reasons we have for undying hatred and no compromise, I have a deep-rooted conviction that for the present, at all events, a truce on reasonable and honourable terms will be immeasurably best for the Saxon cause."

"The land is undoubtedly prostrate, and time is urgently needed ere it can rally once more," said Ethel.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN CONFRONTS DE MONTFORT.

"Then crouch no more on suppliant knee, But scorn with scorn outbrave; A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave."

Wordsworth.

Count de Montfort and his daughter Alice were seated together one evening in what was known as the crimson parlour, a comfortable and somewhat elegant room for the period. It was wainscoted in dark oak, with carpets and hangings of richly-figured crimson cloth from the looms of Avignon. They were enjoying a temporary respite from the incessant bustle and turmoil which had been their daily accompaniment since the day they first occupied the Saxon chieftain's patrimony. Even here, their quiet was unpleasantly disturbed by the roystering merriment of their followers in the distant kitchen, who stoutly maintained their freedom to carouse and drink pretty much as they listed. I take the liberty here to introduce the reader to a more intimate acquaintance with the Count and his beautiful and accomplished daughter. The Count was considerably past middle life, probably not less than fifty-five.

His sunburnt countenance, and the stern lines about his mouth and forehead, told eloquently the tale of a soldier's life. For the habits of a rough and unscrupulous life had lent a grim and unfeeling hardness to a visage which had strong evidence of force and character depicted in it. There was also palpable evidence of a spirit ill at ease and clouded with doubt, which made him irritable sometimes to a degree positively cruel to friend or foe. His once jet-black locks were silvering rapidly; but his tall form had lost none of its erectness, and his haughty and imperious demeanour proclaimed him a man used to ruling arbitrarily, and little accustomed to brooking opposition, or the frustrating of his purposes. His daughter, Lady Alice de Montfort, was extremely like him in general appearance. Tall and elegant in carriage, her profuse raven tresses were gathered in silken bands, and from thence fell over her shoulders well-nigh to her girdle. Her face was pale; her features regular, as though chiselled. A pair of l.u.s.trous dark eyes glowed from between darker lashes, proclaiming her southern extraction. She was indeed a model of queenly beauty. Like many of her countrywomen of exalted station, her youth had been spent in the seclusion of the convent, where alone an education worthy of the name could be obtained.

This secluded life--despite her fiery extraction--had toned down her disposition; whilst the culture and refinement had made her a typical example of the romance and troubadour spirit of song, which we Saxons knew to be developed in the maidens of sunny France. For her, the rough life of the Norman occupation, with its scenes of blood and cruelty, was a daily horror.

"Alice," began the Count, "I told you some time ago that I had affianced you to Baron Vigneau. He has followed my fortunes, and lent the prowess of himself and his mercenaries in furthering my interests, in return for which he was to receive your hand in marriage; and I gave him my solemn promise to that effect. His recent conduct has not pleased me, and his addiction to the wine-cup has become inordinate. But I lay the fault of this to the rough times we have had, and I doubt not when peaceful times come again he will become a sober and a virtuous Norman Baron. Anyway, I gave him my promise, and he has fulfilled the obligation. He now presses for the fulfilment of this promise. Much time has already been allowed you to prepare, so I would have you bethink yourself when it can be redeemed. As you know, it rests solely with yourself as to when this event shall be, and my pledges made good. I pray you despise him not, for though he is a landless mercenary, he is brave, and has powerful friends."

"Father, this marriage is most distasteful--I may say, most abhorrent to me. The Baron is a man I cannot possibly love; and if my fortune is what he would have, let him take it and welcome--I care not if I am penniless, if I have my liberty. Nay, I would much rather take the veil if I have no other choice than to marry him."

"Alice, this cannot be; I cannot break my promise. Once for all let me tell you I dare not. This man has obtained a fatal advantage over me, and it is a question of life and death for me. Listen!" said he, rising and pacing the room with quick nervous tread. "Fool that I was, when this last insurrection of the Saxons broke out I was deeply smarting under the rebuffs I had received at the hands of my mortal enemies Odo and Fitz-Osborne, and the base ingrat.i.tude of William. I counted the forces of the rebels, and noted their wonderful successes; and foolishly imagining the Danes and Scots would stand firm, I thought that William's time had come at last. Madman that I was! to think ought could thwart the iron will and marvellous resource. But I had many things to be revenged upon, and I was blinded by it. I thought, now is the time. But worst of all, in sheer madness and infatuation I entrusted letters--deadly compromising letters--to this Vigneau for the leaders of the insurrection. These letters Vigneau never delivered, and he now holds them over my head, the villain! and threatens to divulge the whole thing to William. If he does this, I know well, with the enemies I have at court, that nothing will appease the self-willed tyrant but my head.

These letters contain such ample proof of my treasonous intentions that my life literally hangs in the balance if I cannot gratify Vigneau. Fool and dolt that I was to place myself in the power of so unscrupulous a villain!

"I have told you this much that you may think less hardly of me. But the thing is absolute and irrevocable. I can no longer put him off by my excuses on your behalf, for he becomes clamorous and threatening. There is nothing further to gain, I perceive, by remonstrances and promises, so the sooner this marriage takes place the better; for I am hopelessly involved in the toils of this snake."

A dead silence of some minutes followed this, and a sickening sensation almost to fainting crept over Alice. How long the death-like stillness would have lasted I know not, but just at that juncture, in silence profound, the ma.s.sive oaken door swung back unbidden, and a s.n.a.t.c.h of a Baccha.n.a.lian chorus pealed along the corridors and burst unbidden on the ears of father and daughter. But the rising temper of the Count at this ill-timed jollity and carousing gave way on the instant to profound astonishment and alarm, as Oswald the Saxon, armed with s.h.i.+eld and buckler, with his drawn sword in his hand, strode into the room; whilst the dim form of an armed accomplice was visible for a moment in the darkness ere the door swung back to its place, shutting out the sounds of revelry and riot, and the three were alone together. The Count sprang to his feet, whipped out his sword, and savagely stood at bay, awaiting the onslaught of the st.u.r.dy Saxon. Alice also sprang to her feet with a startled cry, and a strange panic seized her. Had this Saxon, who owed his life to her, sought this interview with murderous intent? His appearance betokened it most surely, and she began to upbraid herself most keenly.

"Quiet you, lady," said Oswald, with a low obeisance, and in tones which belied the warlike att.i.tude and arms which he bore. "I have none but peaceable intentions, gentle lady, though in these times we must be prepared for any eventualities. I hope you will let this excuse my weapons and my untimely visit."

"What doest thou here, Saxon? and how darest thou intrude thyself so recklessly?" said the Count.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN CONFRONTS DE MONTFORT.]

"As to intrusion, n.o.ble sir, you will pardon me, but my father built this castle, and I was born here, and inherited it from him; so I would fain point out, if you will allow me, that I am not the intruder. You have usurped my lands, appropriated my home, and slain my va.s.sals; whilst I am homeless, landless, and an outlaw."

"Lucky, too, art thou, Saxon, to escape with thy life, and wondrous venturesome withal, in thrusting thy neck a second time into the halter."

"I have not come to bandy threats, but it is not my neck that is in the halter just now, and if thou wert not s.h.i.+elded by a protector more potent than thy armed minions thy life would soon be forfeit--mark that, Norman! and be a little more merciful."

"Thou liest, Saxon dog! I fear thee not, nor any Saxon boor in the land!" said the Count, brandis.h.i.+ng his sword, whilst Alice rushed frantically between them.

"Excuse my hastiness, fair lady," said Oswald, "and permit me to say that I have not come to shed blood, but the reverse; I am come to solicit a truce, an honourable truce, and to treat for a cessation of hostilities and hatred; and I would fain you should be umpire between us this night, gentle lady."

"What truce dost thou expect, Saxon?" said the Count. "There can but be one truce between the conqueror and a foe routed and beaten; and that is, that he should lay down his arms unconditionally and accept the clemency of the conqueror."

"That is a condition which we shall not accept. We shall maintain our liberty at all hazards, and the Norman had better beware of hara.s.sing desperate men."

"If thy arrogance were equalled by thy power, Saxon, thou wouldst do great things. But be thou well a.s.sured that I will root every mother's son of you out of your holes in the mountains within a month, if there is not unconditional surrender. But if thou and thy va.s.sals return, and accept these terms, ye shall be ent.i.tled to my protection as my va.s.sals and villeins. For thyself, if thou subscribe the oath of fealty, I will a.s.sign to thee certain lands, which thou shalt atone for by such services rendered to me as I please, as thy feudal lord."

"Excuse me, n.o.ble sir; but these are impossible terms. In the first place, I am not going to submit to be a grovelling feudatory, wearing clumsy brogues and a va.s.sal's collar, coming cringingly to thee for permission to make a journey or shoot a stag--to ask humbly if I may keep a dog; catch a fish; or marry a wife! I am not going to hold the stirrup for beggarly Norman adventurers, and say, Your most humble servant, By your leave, puissant sir, Crave your pardon, my lord, and all the rest of servile rigmarole, being afraid to breathe the breath of heaven, or tread mother earth; or say that I am a man; content to be numbered with thy cattle, or thy goods and chattels, and be spoken of as the loutish Saxon clown. Never! Let that be understood once for all. No drop of va.s.sal's blood courses through my veins. No part of a va.s.sal's spirit animates me. I have not looked upon the face of any man, Saxon or Norman, that I fear, and I will be va.s.sal to no man. Leave me alone, with the handful of Saxons who follow me. Thou hast my lands and my home--take them as the spoils of war, but be content. There is land enough, and thou mayest leave us in peace. We will not come nigh thee, but be content to till a little land for sustenance; and we may be of service as thy allies. Probably many of the serfs will be willing to return to their lands and to va.s.salage; and all who are willing may do so freely."

"Thou hast come to dictate terms, not to supplicate them, Saxon. Dost thou think it probable I shall tolerate a petty Saxon chieftain holding sway close to my doors? or harbour on my lands a brood of villeins who will render the service of fear to me and that of fealty to the Saxon near, so that in any pinch they will treacherously fail me? Thou hast a low estimate of my wisdom, truly. But listen once for all, Saxon; if there be not immediate surrender I will hunt you from your holes in the hills, as I have already said, within a month, and few will escape me--mark that!"

"Father," said Alice, "you do this n.o.ble Saxon grievous wrong in rejecting so rudely his amicable overtures. You may surely mingle mercy with your designs. I myself will be bond, these Saxons will reciprocate any acts of generosity done to them. Besides, consider this: you saw the forms of armed men at the door just now. They have stayed their hand when it was at the throat of their victims, and they may do so again."

"Tus.h.!.+ tus.h.!.+ you speak like a school-girl. These boorish Saxons will count mercy as weakness; so no more of it."

"Many thanks, lady," interposed Oswald. "Gentle means are strongest when we deal with human beings, whether they be gentle or simple. But adieu!

If my mission fails, the responsibility rests not with me, for I have now offered peace--a peace which is abject in its terms." So saying, he turned and struck the oaken door with the pommel of his sword, which on the instant sprung open and as quickly-closed behind him, whilst the ma.s.sive bolt was shot from the outside.

The Count sprang to the door, and tried to force it open, but to no purpose. "Jules! Jules!" roared he. "What ho there! Treachery!" But the only response he received to his frantic cries was the fragment of a rollicking song and chorus, trolled more l.u.s.tily than musically by rough voices in the distant kitchen, the substance of which ran something like the following:--

"Old Bacchus was a merry dog, And kept good company; He loved good wine and a jovial song, So his days sped merrily.

_Chorus._--Ho, comrades all, we'll drink and sing, So pa.s.s the bowl along.

If a better cask the morrow bring, We'll greet it with a song."