CHAPTER XXXIX.
BEWARE THE VIKING.
"O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies."
Milton.
We left Sigurd and his two followers in the cave in the mountains.Sigurd, as usual, was restless and eager for further attacks upon theNormans. So, early next morning, one of his men, in obedience to hiscommands, climbed to the top of the mountain for the purpose ofsignalling the scattered band, who, since the departure of their leader,with the wounded chieftain Oswald--narrated previously--had been inhiding in small companies, or singly, with their wives and children.This messenger laboriously scaled peak after peak until he mounted theloftiest eminence of all; from whence, far away in the hazy distance,summit after summit towered heavenwards, with scarred weird valleyslying between them, and the placid wood-encircled lakes in goodly numbershining like burnished silver, looking up to heaven, reflecting sun andcloud in their still depths. The man, ignorant, unlettered, anduncultured as he was, felt the mighty inspiration; and he stoodpassively for a few minutes surveying the scene lying before him. Thenslowly he turned upon his heel until he had faced every point of thecompass, taking in the mighty distances within the circle of thesemountain sentinels, with the magnificent and inspiring solitudes aroundon every hand. The cool mountain breeze stirred his long, unkempt locksand beard; and the air, pure as the unsullied breath of heaven, like aninspiration thrilled through his lungs, and poured its vitalising energythrough every vein in his body. Not a sound, however, broke from hislips betokening any sense of admiration or appreciation of what helooked upon. Only some half-articulated guttural sounds betokenedintense inward satisfaction. But now, in a moment, quick as thought, hisbrawny arms unfolded from across his broad chest, and a fierce fire ofrage kindled in his eye; a savage expression also escaped his lips, forthe deep baying of a hound broke upon his ear, and turning, he saw downin the valley yonder, Norman soldiers putting bloodhounds on the trailof his chieftain, Sigurd. Instantly, without staying to rear aloft thebeacon, which was to speak to comrades hiding in distant valleys or onthe distant hills, he darted over the shoulder of the hill, and withlong, fleet strides, seemed almost to fly towards the cave, where, inhiding, he had left his master. On reaching the cave he hurriedlyexplained to Sigurd the position of affairs. With a savage exclamationthe chieftain said,--
"Ha! they hunt me with dogs again, as though I were a wolf or a hog.Well, let them beware! the wild boar of the mountains will find themmore sport than will be pleasant, as he has done many times before! Isuppose it will be a long race, for these Norman sleuthhounds are sureof scent, and will not be easily shaken off! Forward ye up the burn; wewill go over the head, for there is a trap laid for them up yonder. Fromthence we go down into Deepdale, keeping along round the head ofUlleswater. Ye will get a good start, and may take it easy."
"What will ye do, Jarl? If ye mean to attack these Norman dogs, we wouldrather stand by you and share the risk."
"I shall be ruled by fate. Skuld, the Viking's friend, has me in hiskeeping; I shall not be slain; but one thing I must do, I must showmyself to them, so as to divert the scent from this place. We must notlet the hounds lead them to our lair here, for it is a snug port in astorm, and we shall need it for rest many times yet, I fear. When I haveshowed myself to them, I shall follow after you. As ye scale the summitye may look out; if I need you I will signal, but it is not likely."
Buckling on their swords alone, so as to be lightly equipped, the twomen followed the water-course which marked the dividing line betwixt thehills on either side, and which, in its turn, was flanked on each handby the dense wood stretching for more than a mile further up the burn,until the inhospitable Zone was reached, where tree and shrub werepinched and stunted into barrenness by the chill mountain air, and whereshelter only could be obtained by the innumerable and gigantic limestoneboulders, which grimly stood sentinel over the leaping and tumblingwaters. Sigurd hastily stowed away some provisions in a leathern case,which he strapped over his shoulders. Then, buckling on his belt, fromwhich his broadsword was suspended, he crept from his hiding-place andstrode upwards through the tangled undergrowth, making for the clear onthe mountain side. His purpose, as we have already said, being to throwthe hounds off the old scent which led to the cave overlooking the tarn,and to draw them directly after himself; for he was very little dismayedat the prospect, so confident was he of his own power to keep them at asafe distance, and weary out, if need be, the Norman band. Havingcleared the wood, he climbed up the hillside for a little way, scanningcarefully the course along which the enemy must come. All was quiet asyet, so he sat him down to await events. He had not long to wait in thisposition, however, ere the cry of the hounds and the shouting of mensmote upon his ear, and he started to his feet. Yonder in the distance,and coming along the mountain side, he espied a couple of men, eachleading a hound, and a company of thirty or forty Norman men-at-armsfollowed after. Climbing upon a knoll, professedly to survey the party,but in reality to attract attention to himself, he stood for a moment, aconspicuous figure on the barren hillside, and speedily he was seen bythe Normans, who set up a great shout of exultation as they beheld theburly figure of their dire foe so nearly in their power. Sigurd wavedhis sword defiantly in their faces, and then turned and sped him afterhis men, towards the valley's head. Eagerly the Normans followed after,having Sigurd almost constantly in view; and, as they deemed, soon to berun down and captured.
As they followed after Sigurd up the valley it grew gradually into amost desolate and awe-inspiring solitude. All along the mountain summitsthe limestone rocks jutted out clear of every vestige of verdure--bare,bold, ominous, and frowning. The slow, but persistent disintegratinginfluences of climate and atmosphere had, through the centuries, slowlydiminished their beetling heads; and all adown their scraggy sides layerupon layer of rocky fragments testified most eloquently that rugged andstrong as were these rocky eminences, there was a despoiler strongenough even to cope with their might; whilst in the bottom of the glenwere huge rocks lying where Nature's invisible fingers had toppled themfrom the summit. Few living things haunted the place. Yonder, over thecrest of the mountain, a pair of golden eagles were wheeling in circles,delighting in the strength of their matchless pinions. Here and there arabbit might be seen stealing in and out amongst the boulders. Severalcarrion crows, with hoarse croak, flitted from boulder to boulder inominous expectation of coming carnage. Rich and plentiful had been theirfare since the coming of the Normans, and, with true instinct, theseflying Saxons and pursuing Normans, they knew, were prophetic ofgratification to their base appetites.
On the Normans came, their following after being greatly expedited by aconstant sight of the quarry. For there was no need to be careful, oranxious lest their hounds lost the trail. Sigurd was not a quarter of amile ahead, but in consequence of the ascent, and the rough ground to betraversed, it represented a good start. He was also a much more powerfuland skilful mountaineer than they were, and with the utmost ease he heldthe distance. As they progressed the ascent became steeper and steeper,wilder and more rugged. Frequently they lost sight of the Viking chief,as he disappeared behind huge boulders or frowning rocks, only to seehim reappear again on some promontory still higher, from which he wouldwatch them for a minute or two as they struggled after him, the savagedefiances he shouted falling easily upon their ear. Nearer and nearer,however, they came towards the head of this rugged and water-furrowedgorge. Running along the topmost ridge of the hill on either side of thecleft, down which the water rushed, was a long line of steep beetlingcrags, bare, jutting, verdureless rocks, well-nigh impossible to scale,and involving a wide circuit to outflank. The waters, through countlessgenerations, with unceasing rush and swirl, had shorn these flintylimestone rocks asunder in one steep slit from top to bottom; and totrack the "mad Saxon"--as Sigurd was called by the Normans--through thisweird crevice, was to penetrate a mere
fissure between steep andoverhanging rocks on either side, and so full of twists that the pathwas frequently completely hidden a couple of yards in advance. The Saxonknew his ground well.
Not so these Normans; but, enough for them, their foe was a flying foe,and they were numerous and consequently valorous. Ignoring completelythe many lessons of personal valour and mad daring this man had taughtthem in the past, without pause they boldly followed after, the houndsfoaming at the mouth and tugging at the leash. 'Twas a fearsome gap toenter, and they had not proceeded far when a jutting crag projected, andthe waters were compelled to make a circuit in order to flow round it.With a deep bay, and an eager plunge in the turbid, rushing waters--forhe scented blood--the hound which led the party dashed past theprojection, eagerly dragging the Norman who followed after and held him.But a blow of Sigurd's sword cut the hound clean in two, and a secondblow clave the Norman who held him. With a great shriek, aterror-stricken cry, and without pretence of defence, they turned in aneager scrambling retreat, each caring only for himself, and leaving therearmost to the mercy of the savage giant who followed after. When theyreached the open ground, where in numbers they could assail their foe,no foe was in sight. Sigurd had exhausted his opportunity and was gone.Who now would be first to enter again, and force this wild man from hislair? Alas! not one! There was, however, no time to lose, and theNormans were consumed with impotent rage. So some of them hurried roundby the end of the crags, whilst some scaled the face of the cliff, eachand all endeavouring, with utmost speed, to come upon the rocks above.This was done eventually, and, swarming to the brink of the rift, manyheads endeavoured cautiously to peep over and down into thewater-course, intensely hoping, but almost fearing, to set eyes upontheir foe. But no Saxon was to be seen. They then rushed along the sidesof the fissure, peeping down as they ran, and making sure that theirvictim was safely entrapped in his lair after all. But there was not atrace of him. On and on they rushed, over-lapping each other in turns,until, eventually, they came to the very summit, where the water-coursehad completely run out into a mere hollow, a deep, spongy marsh or bog.Hastily overtopping the hill, they eagerly looked down into the valleybeyond. With wild execrations of rage they beheld the object of theirdirest hatred and fear moving down the mountain side with long, swingingstrides, nearly a mile ahead, and immediately he disappeared in a densewood, which seemed to stretch out its sheltering arms to the fugitive.
Sigurd was now joined by his two comrades, and together they pushed onfor two or three miles through the forest, eventually rounding the headof Lake Ulleswater, and patiently climbing the steep headland on theopposite side of the lake. Here they halted for a while to rest and eat;but they were soon again roused to action by the voices of men and houndpersistently following after. For the Normans were enraged, and, withthe remaining hound, they continued mile after mile to track their archenemy. Sigurd and his men, at a steady trot, continued to lead thechase, covering another five or six miles down the side of the lakewithout halting.
"Shall we keep up the race until we weary them out, Jarl?" remarked oneof the men to Sigurd.
"No, I have another purpose in view; but this long race, with the tasteof steel in the middle of it, will do them good."
"Ye do not purpose making for the cave, Jarl, do ye? There are not halfa dozen men there, and we are no match for this company. Then there arethe women and children to be thought of."
"No, that will not do at present. The boat will be safely moored at thefoot of Hawks' Cliff, will it not, think ye?"
"Yes, I doubt not," was the reply. "I see now, Jarl. It is very good. Toslip the noose so deftly when the Normans think to hang us is wellthought of."
On for a little while the three continued, until coming to therendezvous known to them as Hawks' Cliff--stupendous rocks shorn downwith well-nigh a perpendicular face and overhanging the lake. Down theserocks, which required a cool head, deft feet, and a knowledge of thegiddy path, these three swiftly descended, until the water was reached,where a boat was found snugly moored beneath the sheltering arms of thetrees which fringed the water's edge. Into this boat the three stepped,and as the pursuers drew near they pulled away from the shore, makingfor the opposite side of the lake. Here was a masterly manoeuvre,completely foiling the enemy. For whether they went round by the bottomof the lake, or retraced their steps by the head, it meant a start often or twelve miles to the fugitives; and with the day wearing on, andthe pursuers wearied and fagged, the chase was manifestly closed for theday, with one more futile attempt to destroy this redoubtable enemy, whounweariedly persisted in exacting bloody tribute from their ranks,disdaining every overture of reconciliation, and defying their utmostefforts to subdue him.