by John Bowling
CHAPTER XXXI.
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, whenI heard the plaintive voice of Ethel beseeching me to let her comewithin my tent. I had scarce time to reply when the poor child camerushing into my tent, bathed in tears, and in great distress. I soothedher as best I could. Then I gently inquired as to the cause of hergrief, when, without answering me, she thrust into my hand the letter ofthe Prince. "I scarce know what he means," she said, burying her face inher hands.
I read the letter with a burning sense of shame and indignation, and myheart ached for this poor child who, in the purity of her patriotism andher unquenchable love for her country and the Saxon cause, had bravedthis rough journey and its exposure, in the hope that her woman'sdevotion might nerve the arms of the remnant of Saxon leaders still leftto the cause. But this ghastly unmasking of a Prince who was false,fickle, shameless, and altogether worthless, was a cruel wound to her--awound that would fester and rankle, but was destined never to healagain. 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, andaltogether without excuse. To come from a prince, and from a would-beking also--'tis sad to think of it."
"My country! my unhappy country! what will become of thee?" was theheart-broken exclamation as she fell at my feet, her long, fair hairfalling in dishevelled tresses around.
"Comfort thee, my poor child," said I, though I scarce had heart or hopefor anything. I endeavoured to calm her with such soothing, hopefulwords 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 arebreaking my heart. I had vainly hoped that our scattered and huntedpeople might have been rallied by the presence amongst them of theirPrince--that factions would have come together, and a bold stand mighthave been made for liberty; but to find my Prince so poor in valour andso rich in all cowardly and licentious feeling--so bereft of honour andchivalry as to offer dishonourable proposals to a forlorn and wretchedgirl like myself--this is more than I can bear. I have watched andprayed these two nights, hoping that favouring Heaven would smile uponus again, and upon this council. But as I watched in lonely vigil, Icould hear no answering voice, saving the soughing of the night-winds inthe passes of these lonely hills; and they seemed to bear no message tome, saving a message of desolation and death. Is there any rest, anyjoy, for one like me in life, Father? Surely the grave is the only hopefor me!"
"My poor child," said I, "let us not think of death until He who gave uslife shall say 'It is enough.' Let us obey, and submit to the chasteninghand of our Father in heaven. Perhaps we err greatly in cherishingthoughts of resistance and of bloodshed. Let us rejoice that there is akingdom which is stable, and which shall know no end; whose Prince isthe Prince of Peace. Angels are its heralds, and saints its warriors.Love and mercy are the twin pillars of our Prince's throne; and gentlehands and loving hearts may battle for His supremacy. 'Tis a Kingdom inwhich torn and bleeding hearts may find the herb called heartsease, andsweet content. Into this Kingdom let us press, my child, and for it letus contend, for the kingdoms of this world are fickle, and built up onfraud and wrong; and they will ultimately shrivel up and pass away likethe mists of the morning, and be no more."
"I fear me, Father, that the fierce war-spirit of my ancestors reigns inmy heart. I am more than half heathen, it seems to me. I have beenhoping for revenge for a murdered father and brother, and for a ravishedcountry. They tell me the fair Torfrida, forsaken by her lord, thisHereward, has taken shelter in the monastery of Crowland. Shall I joinher 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, andthere is strong need for some curb, some overmastering restraint, tocrush its fierce revolt."
"Thine, I fear, Ethel, is not the nature to bear easily the constraintsof the cloister, unless it were first schooled by the iron rod ofdiscipline. Listen to nature's own prompting; I fancy it declaresstrongly for the freer life of the camp and the field. There is scopefor activity, and I think a fair measure of protection, where Oswald is.On his virtue, wisdom, and valour, much depends, and I believe he willbe equal to winning many privileges for us."
"Father, may I confide a maiden's secret to thee? I love him whom thouhast named. 'Twere heaven, indeed, to share his toils andprivations--nay, even to be near him. But 'tis _agony_, and soon I fearit will be _sin_. His heart has fallen captive to a Norman lady whosaved his life, and I know he cannot be mine. Advise me, Father, in thissore 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 thatthe _essence_ of love is _sacrifice_. The human heart will not behindered here, but will raise its own altar, free of all dictation.Alas! full oft it must offer itself, and be both priest and victim. Manyare the sad hearts that here have offered sacrifice before thy day.Alas! many here will offer a hopeless, heart-consuming sacrifice whenthou art gone. If it should be that there is demanded of thee a painfulact of self-renouncement, strength and fortitude are always given uswhen we are minded to do a brave deed. I shall be near, my child; let usawait what Providence has in store for us calmly. Lie down upon mycouch, and rest. I will lay this matter before our people, and I willnot be long."
I immediately gathered up the letter, which had fallen at my feet, andbetook myself to the yeoman's dwelling-house, and knocked at the door.There was immediately a hush of voices, and some one under his breathsaid, "Who knocks?" "Adhelm," said I. My voice was well known to manywho were inside, and the door was opened without more ado. Gatheredhere, evidently in secret conclave, were Sigurd and a number of thefollowers of the Prince. Their lowering brows told me plainly thatmischief 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 discussingpurposes of bloodshed, unfitted, I fear, for saintly ears. But if thouwilt be brief, our royal pleasure shall be at thy service."
"I am afraid my message is one which can scarcely be welcome to yourHighness's ears; nevertheless, it is enjoined upon a bishop that he befound faithful."
"Well, be faithful an' thou wilt, Bishop; but let not thy exordium bedrawn out any longer than is necessary. So to the point without furtherprevarication, an' it please you."
"Well, to the point then, Prince," said I. "I hold in my hands anepistle, which purports to have come from your Highness, and isaddressed to the Saxon maiden, Ethel. I would fain know if it is indeedfrom yourself."
"What have I to do to answer thy impertinent questions, priest?" saidhe, snatching the letter from my hands.
"Since it is so, and as I feared, I have to denounce thee, Prince, asbecomes my office; and I say fearlessly that the offering ofdishonouring proposals such as these to a virtuous and gentle maiden, isan 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 meof thy presence, and of all such eavesdropping carrion, who wormthemselves into the secrets of silly wenches, to the annoyance of theirbetters."
"Stay a moment, sire," said Sigurd, who was evidently in a toweringrage. "I would know further of this matter. If thou hast offered aninsult 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 totake it from the Prince's hand; but the Prince hastily drew back, andattempted to tear it in pieces. Sigurd instantly grasped him with hisiron 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 noscholar's gear."
I took the epistle and read it in the hearing of the assembled company.When I had finished it, Sigurd drew his sword, and stalking up to thePrince, he said,--
"I will cut thy craven soul from thy craven body for offering thisinsult to the daughter of Beowulf."
Half a dozen hands, however, immediately grasped him, and kept him fromhis purpose; but, standing like a tiger at bay, his words coming hissingthrough his foaming lips with tumultuous rage, he shouted,--
"I disown thee, too, dastardly villain, for I perceive there is not adrop of honest blood, either Saxon or Skald, in thy craven body! Getthee gone quickly, for I warn thee to pollute no longer Saxon soil withthy loathsome, cowardly presence. And beware, too! for if to-morrow'ssun finds thee within reach of my arm, I will avenge this insult in thycoward's blood."
I confess I could not but look with admiration on this sturdy descendantof the Viking rovers. Though he was rough and uncouth as the wild hillsof Westmoreland, over which he had hunted and fought from his youth, yethe loved the beautiful Ethel with a love as deep and pure as amother's--a love so utterly unselfish that he would willingly renouncehis hope and his claim, nor murmur if Ethel's love should find itsrequital in the love of Oswald. But he was beside himself with rage whenhe 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 isneedless to say that this unprincipled act alienated finally the smallremnant of Saxons who hitherto had hoped to see Edgar occupy the throne,last filled by the valorous Harold.