CHAPTER III.
HOW HEREWARD SUCCORED A PRINCESS OF CORNWALL.
The next place in which Hereward appeared was far away on the southwest,upon the Cornish shore. How he came there, or after how long, thechronicles do not say. All that shall be told is, that he went into porton board a merchant ship carrying wine, and intending to bring back tin.The merchants had told him of one Alef, a valiant _regulus_ or kingletof those parts, who was indeed a distant connection of Hereward himself,having married, as did so many of the Celtic princes, the daughter of aDanish sea-rover, of Siward's blood. They told him also that the kingletincreased his wealth, not only by the sale of tin and of red cattle,but by a certain amount of autumnal piracy in company with his Danishbrothers-in-law from Dublin and Waterford; and Hereward, who believed,with most Englishmen of the East Country, that Cornwall still produceda fair crop of giants, some of them with two and even three heads, hadhopes that Alef might show him some adventure worthy of his sword. Hesailed in, therefore, over a rolling bar, between jagged points of blackrock, and up a tide river which wandered away inland, like a land-lockedlake, between high green walls of oak and ash, till they saw at the headof the tide Alef's town, nestling in a glen which sloped towards thesouthern sun. They discovered, besides, two ships drawn up upon thebeach, whose long lines and snake-heads, beside the stoat carved on thebeak-head of one and the adder on that of the other, bore witness tothe piratical habits of their owner. The merchants, it seemed, werewell known to the Cornishmen on shore, and Hereward went up with themunopposed; past the ugly dikes and muddy leats, where Alef's slaves werestreaming the gravel for tin ore; through rich alluvial pasturesspotted with red cattle, and up to Alef's town. Earthworks and stockadessurrounded a little church of ancient stone, and a cluster of granitecabins thatched with turf, in which the slaves abode, and in the centreof all a vast stone barn, with low walls and high sloping roof, whichcontained Alef's family, treasures, fighting tail, horses, cattle, andpigs. They entered at one end between the pigsties, passed on throughthe cow-stalls, then through the stables, and saw before them, dimthrough the reek of thick peat-smoke, a long oaken table, at which sathuge dark-haired Cornishmen, with here and there among them the yellowhead of a Norseman, who were Alef's following or fighting men. Boiledmeat was there in plenty, barley cakes, and ale. At the head of thetable, on a high-backed settle, was Alef himself, a jolly giant, whowas just setting to work to drink himself stupid with mead made fromnarcotic heather honey. By his side sat a lovely dark-haired girl, withgreat gold torcs upon her throat and wrists, and a great gold broochfastening a shawl which had plainly come from the looms of Spain or ofthe East, and next to her again, feeding her with titbits cut off withhis own dagger, and laid on barley cake instead of a plate, sat a moregigantic personage even than Alef, the biggest man that Hereward hadever seen, with high cheek bones, and small ferret eyes, looking outfrom a greasy mass of bright red hair and beard.
No questions were asked of the new-comers. They set themselves downin silence in empty places, and, according to the laws of the good oldCornish hospitality, were allowed to eat and drink their fill beforethey spoke a word.
"Welcome here again, friend," said Alef at last, in good enough Danish,calling the eldest merchant by name. "Do you bring wine?"
The merchant nodded.
"And you want tin?"
The merchant nodded again, and lifting his cup drank Alef's health,following it up by a coarse joke in Cornish, which raised a laugh allround.
The Norse trader of those days, it must be remembered, was none of thecringing and effeminate chapmen who figure in the stories of the MiddleAges. A free Norse or Dane, himself often of noble blood, he fought aswillingly as he bought; and held his own as an equal, whether at thecourt of a Cornish kinglet or at that of the Great Kaiser of the Greeks.
"And you, fair sir," said Alef, looking keenly at Hereward, "by whatname shall I call you, and what service can I do for you? You look morelike an earl's son than a merchant, and are come here surely for otherthings besides tin."
"Health to King Alef," said Hereward, raising the cup. "Who I am I willtell to none but Alef's self; but an earl's son I am, though an outlawand a rover. My lands are the breadth of my boot-sole. My plough is mysword. My treasure is my good right hand. Nothing I have, and nothing Ineed, save to serve noble kings and earls, and win me a champion's fame.If you have battles to fight, tell me, that I may fight them for you. Ifyou have none, thank God for his peace; and let me eat and drink, and goin peace."
"King Alef needs neither man nor boy to fight his battle as long asIronhook sits in his hall."
It was the red-bearded giant who spoke in a broken tongue, part Scotch,part Cornish, part Danish, which Hereward could hardly understand; butthat the ogre intended to insult him he understood well enough.
Hereward had hoped to find giants in Cornwall: and behold he had foundone at once; though rather, to judge from his looks, a Pictish than aCornish giant; and, true to his reckless determination to defy and fightevery man and beast who was willing to defy and fight him, he turned onhis elbow and stared at Ironhook in scorn, meditating some speech whichmight provoke the hoped-for quarrel.
As he did so his eye happily caught that of the fair Princess. She waswatching him with a strange look, admiring, warning, imploring; and whenshe saw that he noticed her, she laid her finger on her lip in token ofsilence, crossed herself devoutly, and then laid her finger on her lipsagain, as if beseeching him to be patient and silent in the name of Himwho answered not again.
Hereward, as is well seen, wanted not for quick wit, or for chivalrousfeeling. He had observed the rough devotion of the giant to the Lady.He had observed, too, that she shrank from it; that she turned away withloathing when he offered her his own cup, while he answered by a darkand deadly scowl.
Was there an adventure here? Was she in duress either from this Ironhookor from her father, or from both? Did she need Hereward's help? If so,she was so lovely that he could not refuse it. And on the chance, heswallowed down his high stomach, and answered blandly enough,--
"One could see without eyes, noble sir, that you were worth any tencommon men; but as every one has not like you the luck of so lovely alady by your side, I thought that perchance you might hand over some ofyour lesser quarrels to one like me, who has not yet seen so much goodfighting as yourself, and enjoy yourself in pleasant company at home, asI should surely do in your place."
The Princess shuddered and turned pale; then looked at Hereward andsmiled her thanks. Ironhook laughed a savage laugh.
Hereward's jest being translated into Cornish for the benefit of thecompany, was highly approved by all; and good humor being restored,every man got drunk save Hereward, who found the mead too sweet andsickening.
After which those who could go to bed went to bed, not as in England,[Footnote: Cornwall was not then considered part of England.] among therushes on the floor, but in the bunks or berths of wattle which stoodtwo or three tiers high along the wall.
The next morning as Hereward went out to wash his face and hands inthe brook below (he being the only man in the house who did so), MartinLightfoot followed him.
"What is it, Martin? Hast thou had too much of that sweet mead lastnight that thou must come out to cool thy head too?"
"I came out for two reasons,--first, to see fair play, in case thatIronhook should come to wash his ugly visage, and find you on all foursover the brook--you understand? And next, to tell you what I heard lastnight among the maids."
"And what did you hear?"
"Fine adventures, if we can but compass them. You saw that lady with thecarrot-headed fellow?--I saw that you saw. Well, if you will believe me,that man has no more gentle blood than I have,--has no more right to siton the settle than I. He is a No-man's son, a Pict from Galloway, whocame down with a pirate crew and has made himself the master of thisdrunken old Prince, and the darling of all his housecarles, and now willneeds be his son-in-law whether he will or not."
"I
thought as much," said Hereward; "but how didst thou find out this?"
"I went out and sat with the knaves and the maids, and listened to theirharp-playing, and harp they can, these Cornish, like very elves; andthen I, too, sang songs and told them stories, for I can talk theirtongue somewhat, till they all blest me for a right good fellow. Andthen I fell to praising up old Ironhook to the women."
"Praising him up, man?"
"Ay, just because I suspected him; for the women are so contrary, thatif you speak evil of a man they will surely speak good of him; but ifyou will only speak good of him, then you will hear all the evil of himhe ever has done, and more beside. And this I heard; that the King'sdaughter cannot abide him, and would as lief marry a seal."
"One did not need to be told that," said Hereward, "as long as onehas eyes in one's head. I will kill the fellow, and carry her off, erefour-and-twenty hours be past."
"Softly, softly, my young master. You need to be told something thatyour eyes would not tell you, and that is, that the poor lass isbetrothed already to a son of old King Ranald the Ostman, of Waterford,son of old King Sigtryg, who ruled there when I was a boy."
"He is a kinsman of mine, then," said Hereward. "All the more reasonthat I should kill this ruffian."
"If you can," said Martin Lightfoot.
"If I can?" retorted Hereward, fiercely.
"Well, well, wilful heart must have its way; only take my counsel: speakto the poor young lady first, and see what she will tell you, lest youonly make bad worse, and bring down her father and his men on her aswell as you."
Hereward agreed, and resolved to watch his opportunity of speaking tothe princess.
As they went in to the morning meal they met Alef. He was in high goodhumor with Hereward; and all the more so when Hereward told him hisname, and how he was the son of Leofric.
"I will warrant you are," he said, "by the gray head you carry on greenshoulders. No discreeter man, they say, in these isles than the oldearl."
"You speak truth, sir," said Hereward, "though he be no father of minenow; for of Leofric it is said in King Edward's court, that if a man askcounsel of him, it is as though he had asked it of the oracles of God."
"Then you are his true son, young man. I saw how you kept the peace withIronhook, and I owe you thanks for it; for though he is my good friend,and will be my son-in-law erelong, yet a quarrel with him is more thanI can abide just now, and I should not like to have seen my guest and mykinsman slain in my house."
Hereward would have said that he thought there was no fear of that;but he prudently held his tongue, and having an end to gain, listenedinstead of talking.
"Twenty years ago, of course, I could have thrashed him as easily as--;but now I am getting old and shaky, and the man has been a great helpin need. Six kings of these parts has he killed for me, who drove offmy cattle, and stopped my tin works, and plundered my monks' cells too,which is worse, while I was away sailing the seas; and he is a rightgood fellow at heart, though he be a little rough. So be friends withhim as long as you stay here, and if I can do you a service I will."
They went in to their morning meal, at which Hereward resolved tokeep the peace which he longed to break, and therefore, as was to beexpected, broke.
For during the meal the fair lady, with no worse intention, perhaps,than that of teasing her tyrant, fell to open praises of Hereward'sfair face and golden hair; and being insulted therefore by the Ironhook,retaliated by observations about his personal appearance, which weremore common in the eleventh century than they happily are now. He,to comfort himself, drank deep of the French wine which had just beenbrought and broached, and then went out into the court-yard, where,in the midst of his admiring fellow-ruffians, he enacted a scene asludicrous as it was pitiable. All the childish vanity of the savageboiled over. He strutted, he shouted, he tossed about his huge limbs,he called for a harper, and challenged all around to dance, sing,leap, fight, do anything against him: meeting with nothing but admiringsilence, he danced himself out of breath, and then began boastingonce more of his fights, his cruelties, his butcheries, his impossibleescapes and victories; till at last, as luck would have it, he espiedHereward, and poured out a stream of abuse against Englishmen andEnglish courage.
"Englishmen," he said, "were naught. Had he not slain three of themhimself with one blow?"
"Of your mouth, I suppose," quoth Hereward, who saw that the quarrelmust come, and was glad to have it done and over.
"Of my mouth?" roared Ironhook; "of my sword, man!"
"Of your mouth," said Hereward. "Of your brain were they begotten, ofthe breath of your mouth they were born, and by the breath of your mouthyou can slay them again as often as you choose."
The joke, as it has been handed down to us by the old chroniclers,seems clumsy enough; but it sent the princess, say they, into shrieks oflaughter.
"Were it not that my Lord Alef was here," shouted Ironhook, "I wouldkill you out of hand."
"Promise to fight fair, and do your worst. The more fairly you fight,the more honor you will win," said Hereward.
Whereupon the two were parted for the while.
Two hours afterwards, Hereward, completely armed with helmet and mailshirt, sword and javelin, hurried across the great court-yard, withMartin Lightfoot at his heels, towards the little church upon the knollabove. The two wild men entered into the cool darkness, and saw beforethem, by the light of a tiny lamp, the crucifix over the altar, andbeneath it that which was then believed to be the body of Him whomade heaven and earth. They stopped, trembling, for a moment, bowedthemselves before that, to them, perpetual miracle, and then hurried onto a low doorway to the right, inside which dwelt Alef's chaplain,one of those good Celtic priests who were supposed to represent aChristianity more ancient than, and all but independent of, the thenall-absorbing Church of Rome.
The cell was such a one as a convict would now disdain to inhabit. A lowlean-to roof; the slates and rafters unceiled; the stone walls and floorunplastered; ill-lighted by a hand-broad window, unglazed, and closedwith a shutter at night. A truss of straw and a rug, the priest'sbed, lay in a corner. The only other furniture was a large oak chest,containing the holy vessels and vestments and a few old books. It stooddirectly under the window for the sake of light, for it served the goodpriest for both table and chair; and on it he was sitting reading in hisbook at that minute, the sunshine and the wind streaming in behind hishead, doing no good to his rheumatism of thirty years' standing.
"Is there a priest here?" asked Hereward, hurriedly.
The old man looked up, shook his head, and answered in Cornish.
"Speak to him in Latin, Martin! Maybe he will understand that."
Martin spoke. "My lord, here, wants a priest to shrive him, and thatquickly. He is going to fight the great tyrant Ironhook, as you callhim."
"Ironhook?" answered the priest in good Latin enough. "And he so young!God help him, he is a dead man! What is this,--a fresh soul sent to itsaccount by the hands of that man of Belial? Cannot he entreat him,--canhe not make peace, and save his young life? He is but a stripling, andthat man, like Goliath of old, a man of war from his youth up."
"And my master," said Martin Lightfoot, proudly, "is like youngDavid,--one that can face a giant and kill him; for he has slain, likeDavid, his lion and his bear ere now. At least, he is one that willneither make peace, nor entreat the face of living man. So shrive himquickly, Master Priest, and let him be gone to his work."
Poor Martin Lightfoot spoke thus bravely only to keep up his spirits andhis young lord's; for, in spite of his confidence in Hereward's prowess,he had given him up for a lost man: and the tears ran down his ruggedcheeks, as the old priest, rising up and seizing Hereward's two handsin his, besought him, with the passionate and graceful eloquence of hisrace, to have mercy upon his own youth.
Hereward understood his meaning, though not his words.
"Tell him," he said to Martin, "that fight I must, and tell him thatshrive me he must, and that quickly. Tel
l him how the fellow met me inthe wood below just now, and would have slain me there, unarmed as Iwas; and how, when I told him it was a shame to strike a naked man, hetold me he would give me but one hour's grace to go back, on the faithof a gentleman, for my armor and weapons, and meet him there again, todie by his hand. So shrive me quick, Sir Priest."
Hereward knelt down. Martin Lightfoot knelt down by him, and with atrembling voice began to interpret for him.
"What does he say?" asked Hereward, as the priest murmured something tohimself.
"He said," quoth Martin, now fairly blubbering, "that, fair and young asyou are, your shrift should be as short and as clean as David's."
Hereward was touched. "Anything but that," said he, smiting on hisbreast, "Mea culpa,--mea culpa,--mea maxima culpa."
"Tell him how I robbed my father."
The priest groaned as Martin did so.
"And how I mocked at my mother, and left her in a rage, without ever akind word between us. And how I have slain I know not how many men inbattle, though that, I trust, need not lay heavily on my soul, seeingthat I killed them all in fair fight."
Again the priest groaned.
"And how I robbed a certain priest of his money and gave it away to myhousecarles."
Here the priest groaned more bitterly still.
"O my son! my son! where hast thou found time to lay all these burdenson thy young soul?"
"It will take less time," said Martin, bluntly, "for you to take theburdens off again."
"But I dare not absolve him for robbing a priest. Heaven Help him! Hemust go to the bishop for that. He is more fit to go on pilgrimage toJerusalem than to battle."
"He has no time," quoth Martin, "for bishops or Jerusalem."
"Tell him," says Hereward, "that in this purse is all I have, that in ithe will find sixty silver pennies, beside two strange coins of gold."
"Sir Priest," said Martin Lightfoot, taking the purse from Hereward, andkeeping it in his own hand, "there are in this bag moneys."
Martin had no mind to let the priest into the secret of the state oftheir finances.
"And tell him," continued Hereward, "that if I fall in this battle Igive him all that money, that he may part it among the poor for the goodof my soul."
"Pish!" said Martin to his lord; "that is paying him for having youkilled. You should pay him for keeping you alive." And without waitingfor the answer, he spoke in Latin,--
"And if he comes back safe from this battle, he will give you tenpennies for yourself and your church, Priest, and therefore expects youto pray your very loudest while he is gone."
"I will pray, I will pray," said the holy man; "I will wrestle inprayer. Ah that he could slay the wicked, and reward the proud accordingto his deservings! Ah that he could rid me and my master, and my younglady, of this son of Belial,--this devourer of widows and orphans,--thisslayer of the poor and needy, who fills this place with innocentblood,--him of whom it is written, 'They stretch forth their mouth untothe heaven, and their tongue goeth through the world. Therefore fallthe people unto them, and thereout suck they no small advantage.' I willshrive him, shrive him of all save robbing the priest, and for that hemust go to the bishop, if he live; and if not, the Lord have mercy onhis soul."
And so, weeping and trembling, the good old man pronounced the words ofabsolution.
Hereward rose, thanked him, and then hurried out in silence.
"You will pray your very loudest, Priest," said Martin, as he followedhis young lord.
"I will, I will," quoth he, and kneeling down began to chant that nobleseventy-third Psalm, "Quam bonus Israel," which he had just so fitlyquoted.
"Thou gavest him the bag, Martin?" said Hereward, as they hurried on.
"You are not dead yet. 'No pay, no play,' is as good a rule for priestas for layman."
"Now then, Martin Lightfoot, good-bye. Come not with me. It must neverbe said, even slanderously, that I brought two into the field againstone; and if I die, Martin--"
"You won't die!" said Lightfoot, shutting his teeth.
"If I die, go back to my people somehow, and tell them that I died likea true earl's son."
Hereward held out his hand; Martin fell on his knees and kissed it;watched him with set teeth till he disappeared in the wood; and thenstarted forward and entered the bushes at a different spot.
"I must be nigh at hand to see fair play," he muttered to himself, "incase any of his ruffians be hanging about. Fair play I'll see, andfair play I'll give, too, for the sake of my lord's honor, though I bebitterly loath to do it. So many times as I have been a villain when itwas of no use, why mayn't I be one now, when it would serve the purposeindeed? Why did we ever come into this accursed place? But one thing Iwill do," said he, as he ensconced himself under a thick holly, whencehe could see the meeting of the combatants upon an open lawn some twentyyards away; "if that big bull-calf kills my master, and I do not jump onhis back and pick his brains out with this trusty steel of mine, may myright arm--"
And Martin Lightfoot swore a fearful oath, which need not here bewritten.
The priest had just finished his chant of the seventy-third Psalm, andhad betaken himself in his spiritual warfare, as it was then called, tothe equally apposite fifty-second, "Quid gloriaris?"
"Why boastest thou thyself, thou tyrant, that thou canst do mischief,whereas the goodness of God endureth yet daily?"
"Father! father!" cried a soft voice in the doorway, "where are you?"
And in hurried the Princess.
"Hide this," she said, breathless, drawing from beneath her mantle ahuge sword; "hide it, where no one dare touch it, under the altar behindthe holy rood: no place too secret."
"What is it?" asked the priest, springing up from his knees.
"His sword,--the Ogre's,--his magic sword, which kills whomsoever itstrikes. I coaxed the wretch to let me have it last night when he wastipsy, for fear he should quarrel with the young stranger; and I havekept it from him ever since by one excuse or another; and now he hassent one of his ruffians in for it, saying, that if I do not give it upat once he will come back and kill me."
"He dare not do that," said the priest.
"What is there that he dare not?" said she. "Hide it at once; I knowthat he wants it to fight with this Hereward."
"If he wants it for that," said the priest, "it is too late; for half anhour is past since Hereward went to meet him."
"And you let him go? You did not persuade him, stop him? You let him gohence to his death?"
In vain the good man expostulated and explained that it was no fault ofhis.
"You must come with me this instant to my father,--to them; they mustbe parted. They shall be parted. If you dare not, I dare. I will throwmyself between them, and he that strikes the other shall strike me."
And she hurried the priest out of the house, down the knoll, and acrossthe yard. There they found others on the same errand. The news that abattle was toward had soon spread, and the men-at-arms were hurryingdown to the fight; kept back, however, by Alef, who strode along attheir head.
Alef was sorely perplexed in mind. He had taken, as all honest men did,a great liking to Hereward. Moreover, he was his kinsman and his guest.Save him he would if he could but how to save him without mortallyoffending his tyrant Ironhook he could not see. At least he would exertwhat little power he had, and prevent, if possible, his men-at-arms fromhelping their darling leader against the hapless lad.
Alef's perplexity was much increased when his daughter bounded towardshim, seizing him by the arm, and hurried him on, showing by look andword which of the combatants she favored, so plainly that the ruffiansbehind broke into scornful murmurs. They burst through the bushes.Martin Lightfoot, happily, heard them coming, and had just time to slipaway noiselessly, like a rabbit, to the other part of the cover.
The combat seemed at the first glance to be one between a grown man anda child, so unequal was the size of the combatants. But the second lookshowed that the advantage was by no mean
s with Ironhook. Stumbling toand fro with the broken shaft of a javelin sticking in his thigh, hevainly tried to seize and crush Hereward in his enormous arms. Hereward,bleeding, but still active and upright, broke away, and spranground him, watching for an opportunity to strike a deadly blow. Thehousecarles rushed forward with yells. Alef shouted to the combatants todesist; but ere the party could reach them, Hereward's opportunity hadcome. Ironhook, after a fruitless lunge, stumbled forward. Herewardleapt aside, and spying an unguarded spot below the corslet, drove hissword deep into the giant's body, and rolled him over upon the sward.Then arose shouts of fury.
"Foul play!" cried one.
And others taking up the cry, called out, "Sorcery!" and "Treason!"
Hereward stood over Ironhook as he lay writhing and foaming on theground.
"Killed by a boy at last!" groaned he. "If I had but had my ownsword,--my Brain-biter which that witch stole from me but lastnight!"--and amid foul curses and bitter tears of shame his mortalspirit fled to its doom.
The housecarles rushed in on Hereward, who had enough to do to keep themat arm's length by long sweeps of his sword.
Alef entreated, threatened, promised a fair trial if the men would givefair play; when, to complete the confusion, the Princess threw herselfupon the corpse, shrieking and tearing her hair; and to Hereward'ssurprise and disgust, bewailed the prowess and the virtues of the dead,calling upon all present to avenge his murder.
Hereward vowed inwardly that he would never again trust woman's fancyor fight in woman's quarrel. He was now nigh at his wits' end; thehousecarles had closed round him in a ring with the intention of seizinghim; and however well he might defend his front, he might be crippledat any moment from behind: but in the very nick of time Martin Lightfootburst through the crowd, set himself heel to heel with his master, andbroke out, not with threats, but with a good-humored laugh.
"Here is a pretty coil about a red-headed brute of a Pict! Danes,Ostmen," he cried, "are you not ashamed to call such a fellow your lord,when you have such a true earl's son as this to lead you if you will?"
The Ostmen in the company looked at each other. Martin Lightfoot sawthat his appeal to the antipathies of race had told, and followed it upby a string of witticisms upon the Pictish nation in general, ofwhich the only two fit for modern ears to be set down were the two oldstories, that the Picts had feet so large that they used to lie upontheir backs and hold up their legs to shelter them from the sun; andthat when killed, they could not fall down, but died as they were, allstanding.
"So that the only foul play I can see is, that my master shoved thefellow over after he had stabbed him, instead of leaving him to standupright there, like one of your Cornish Dolmens, till his flesh shouldfall off his bones."
Hereward saw the effect of Martin's words, and burst out in Danishlikewise.
"Look at me!" he said; "I am Hereward the outlaw, I am the champion, Iam the Berserker, I am the Viking, I am the land thief, the seathief, the ravager of the world, the bear-slayer, the ogre-killer, theraven-fattener, the darling of the wolf, the curse of the widow. Touchme, and I will give you to the raven and to the wolf, as I have thisogre. Be my men, and follow me over the swan's road, over the whale'sbath, over the long-snake's leap, to the land where the sea meets thesun, and golden apples hang on every tree; and we will freight our shipswith Moorish maidens, and the gold of Cadiz and Algiers."
"Hark to the Viking! Hark to the right earl's son!" shouted some ofthe Danes, whose blood had been stirred many a time before by such wildwords, and on whom Hereward's youth and beauty had their due effect. Andnow the counsels of the ruffians being divided, the old priest gainedcourage to step in. Let them deliver Hereward and his serving man intohis custody. He would bring them forth on the morrow, and there shouldbe full investigation and fair trial. And so Hereward and Martin, whoboth refused stoutly to give up their arms, were marched back into thetown, locked in the little church, and left to their meditations.
Hereward sat down on the pavement and cursed the Princess. MartinLightfoot took off his master's corslet, and, as well as the darknesswould allow, bound up his wounds, which happily were not severe.
"Were I you," said he at last, "I should keep my curses till I saw theend of this adventure."
"Has not the girl betrayed me shamefully?"
"Not she. I saw her warn you, as far as looks could do, not to quarrelwith the man."
"That was because she did not know me. Little she thought that Icould--"
"Don't hollo till you are out of the wood. This is a night for prayingrather than boasting."
"She cannot really love that wretch," said Hereward, after a pause. "Yousaw how she mocked him."
"Women are strange things, and often tease most where they love most."
"But such a misbegotten savage."
"Women are strange things, say I, and with some a big fellow is a prettyfellow, be he uglier than seven Ironhooks. Still, just because women arestrange things, have patience, say I."
The lock creaked, and the old priest came in. Martin leapt to theopen door; but it was slammed in his face by men outside with scornfullaughter.
The priest took Hereward's head in his hands, wept over him, blessed himfor having slain Goliath like young David, and then set food and drinkbefore the two; but he answered Martin's questions only with sighs andshakings of the head.
"Let us eat and drink, then," said Martin, "and after that you, my lord,sleep off your wounds while I watch the door. I have no fancy for thesefellows taking us unawares at night."
Martin lay quietly across the door till the small hours, listening toevery sound, till the key creaked once more in the lock. He started atthe sound, and seizing the person who entered round the neck, whispered,"One word, and you are dead."
"Do not hurt me," half shrieked a stifled voice; and Martin Lightfoot,to his surprise, found that he had grasped no armed man, but the slightframe of a young girl.
"I am the Princess," she whispered; "let me in."
"A very pretty hostage for us," thought Martin, and letting her goseized the key, locking the door in the inside.
"Take me to your master," she cried, and Martin led her up the churchwondering, but half suspecting some further trap.
"You have a dagger in your hand," said he, holding her wrist.
"I have. If I had meant to use it, it would have been used first on you.Take it, if you like."
She hurried up to Hereward, who lay sleeping quietly on the altar-steps;knelt by him, wrung his hands, called him her champion, her deliverer.
"I am not well awake yet," said he, coldly, "and don't know whether thismay not be a dream, as more that I have seen and heard seems to be."
"It is no dream. I am true. I was always true to you. Have I not putmyself in your power? Am I not come here to deliver you, my deliverer?"
"The tears which you shed over your ogre's corpse seem to have driedquickly enough."
"Cruel! What else could I do? You heard him accuse me to those ruffiansof having stolen his sword. My life, my father's life, were not safea moment, had I not dissembled, and done the thing I loathed. Ah!" shewent on, bitterly, "you men, who rule the world and us by cruel steel,you forget that we poor women have but one weapon left wherewith to holdour own, and that is cunning; and are driven by you day after day totell the lie which we detest."
"Then you really stole his sword?"
"And hid it here, for your sake!" and she drew the weapon from behindthe altar.
"Take it. It is yours now. It is magical. Whoever smites with it, neednever smite again. Now, quick, you must be gone. But promise one thingbefore you go."
"If I leave this land safe, I will do it, be it what it may. Why notcome with me, lady, and see it done?"
She laughed. "Vain boy, do you think that I love you well enough forthat?"
"I have won you, and why should I not keep you?" said Hereward,sullenly.
"Do you not know that I am betrothed to your kinsman? And--though thatyou cann
ot know--that I love your kinsman?"
"So I have all the blows, and none of the spoil."
"Tush! you have the glory,-and the sword,--and the chance, if you willdo my bidding, of being called by all ladies a true and gentle knight,who cared not for his own pleasure, but for deeds of chivalry. Go to mybetrothed,--to Waterford over the sea. Take him this ring, and tellhim by that token to come and claim me soon, lest he run the danger oflosing me a second time, and lose me then forever; for I am in hardcase here, and were it not for my father's sake, perhaps I might be weakenough, in spite of what men might say, to flee with you to your kinsmanacross the sea."
"Trust me and come," said Hereward, whose young blood kindled with asudden nobleness,--"trust me, and I will treat you like my sister, likemy queen. By the holy rood above I will swear to be true to you."
"I do trust you, but it cannot be. Here is money for you in plenty tohire a passage if you need: it is no shame to take it from me. And nowone thing more. Here is a cord,--you must bind the hands and feet of theold priest inside, and then you must bind mine likewise."
"Never," quoth Hereward.
"It must be. How else can I explain your having got the key? I made themgive me the key on the pretence that with one who had most cause to hateyou, it would be safe; and when they come and find us in the morning Ishall tell them how I came here to stab you with my own hands,--you mustlay the dagger by me,--and how you and your man fell upon us and boundus, and you escaped. Ah! Mary Mother," continued the maiden with a sigh,"when shall we poor weak women have no more need of lying?"
She lay down, and Hereward, in spite of himself, gently bound her handsand feet, kissing them as he bound them.
"I shall do well here upon the altar steps," said she. "How can I spendmy time better till the morning light than to lie here and pray?"
The old priest, who was plainly in the plot, submitted meekly to thesame fate; and Hereward and Martin Lightfoot stole out, locking thedoor, but leaving the key in it outside. To scramble over the oldearthwork was an easy matter; and in a few minutes they were hurryingdown the valley to the sea, with a fresh breeze blowing behind them fromthe north.
"Did I not tell you, my lord," said Martin Lightfoot, "to keep yourcurses till you had seen the end of this adventure?"
Hereward was silent. His brain was still whirling from the adventuresof the day, and his heart was very deeply touched. His shrift of themorning, hurried and formal as it had been, had softened him. Hisdanger--for he felt how he had been face to face with death--hadsoftened him likewise; and he repented somewhat of his vainglorious andbloodthirsty boasting over a fallen foe, as he began to see that therewas a purpose more noble in life than ranging land and sea, a ruffianamong ruffians, seeking for glory amid blood and flame. The idea ofchivalry, of succoring the weak and the opprest, of keeping faith andhonor not merely towards men who could avenge themselves, but towardswomen who could not; the dim dawn of purity, gentleness, and theconquest of his own fierce passions,--all these had taken root in hisheart during his adventure with the fair Cornish girl. The seed wassown. Would it he cut down again by the bitter blasts of the roughfighting world, or would it grow and bear the noble fruit of "gentlevery perfect knighthood"?
They reached the ship, clambered on hoard without ceremony, at the riskof being taken and killed as robbers, and told their case. The merchantshad not completed their cargo of tin. Hereward offered to make up theirloss to them if they would set sail at once; and they, feeling that theplace would be for some time to come too hot to hold them, and beingalso in high delight, like honest Ostmen, with Hereward's prowess,agreed to sail straight for Waterford, and complete their cargo there.But the tide was out. It was three full hours before the ship couldfloat; and for three full hours they waited in fear and trembling,expecting the Cornishmen to be down upon them in a body every moment,under which wholesome fear some on board prayed fervently who had neverbeen known to pray before.