The Last of the Vikings

by John Bowling

  CHAPTER XXXIV.

  WILD DARING OF SIGURD THE VIKING.

  "When Greeks joined Greeks, then was the tug of war."

  Nathaniel Lee.

  It was a most grievous disappointment to Sigurd when the Saxon leadersfinally decided not to attack the Normans, and thus checkmate them asthey sought to capture the Saxons whilst in council. When he saw thatthere was no hope of the Saxons uniting in this, he appealed mostimportunately to Hereward to join him, but in vain. When everythingfailed, so insatiate was his thirst for vengeance that he determined toattack them single-handed, trusting to his prowess, and his familiaritywith the passes and the mountain retreats, to secure for himselfimmunity from capture.

  "If I had but a dozen of my hardy mountaineers, I would lead theseNormans a dance before this day was done!" he muttered, as he saw theremnant of the Saxons departing. His hatred of the Normans had so eateninto his soul, that every opportunity to attack them was a favourableone, and he was ready for any scheme of wild daring if only Norman bloodcould be spilled. So, alone, he grimly and resolutely strode up thepass, until he reached a spot he deemed suitable for his purpose.Boulders and bushes intermingled thickly on one side; on the other was aprecipice--a sheer drop of twenty feet into a trout-stream, whichthreaded its way amid limestone boulders.

  Behind him the gaunt, gloomy mountains shot up far away, their lowerparts covered thickly with bracken, bushes, and boulders; behind andamid which a retreating figure need never be exposed for more than asecond at a time. Looking around for a second or two, he gave a grunt ofsatisfaction, and then he climbed a few yards from the path, and laidhimself down amid the bracken and deep grass, with his broad swordunsheathed and laid by his side, ready for the fray. Thus he waited forthe oncoming Norman soldiery. For more than an hour he lay thus inambush, with wild and turbulent passions fermenting in his breast, and awild look in his eyes--reason for the moment dethroned by this oneovermastering passion.

  Presently on the still night air was borne the sound of stealthyfootsteps. Sigurd bounded to his feet as the first sounds broke upon hisear. He fixed tightly his helmet, closed his visor, and adjusted hiscoat of link-mail, which had swung a little awry. Then, grasping hispowerful broadsword, he made a vigorous lunge at an invisible foe, andthen, with a grunt of satisfaction, he took his stand behind a massiveboulder, flanked on the side next the advancing foe with a thick networkof shrubs, through which, however, he could watch the movements of theNormans. The darkness was ebbing away fast. Already the morning's sunhad smitten the head of mighty Helvellyn in the distance, and bathed hiskingly head in a halo of golden glory; but substantial remains oflaggard night still hung moodily about the bottom of the pass, as thoughnature, in shame and sadness, would fain cast her mantle over this madstrife of men, and over the deed about to be enacted before her eyes.Slowly, with hushed voices and stealthy tread, on came the unsuspectingfoe. The head of the column threaded its way past the lurking-place.Sigurd clenched his sword with an impatient grip, for the sight ofNorman foemen, within reach of his sword, was well nigh more than hecould resist. On they passed, all unconscious that a human tiger waslurking near and making ready for his spring. File after file of theNormans strode on, mostly afoot, but some were leading their horses. Nowthe rear men are abreast. A second more, their backs are seen. A springand a blow, and the hindmost Norman is cloven to the waist, and dropswith scarce a groan. There is a wild shriek, and consternation isrampant amongst the rearmost ranks.

  Sigurd, in mad rage, hacks and hews at the panic-stricken crew, cuttingdown man after man with terrific celerity, whilst some, in their effortsto escape his onslaught, fall over the precipice. Presently the Normansdiscover that but one solitary Saxon attacks them. A shout goes up, "Themad Saxon! Cut him down! Down with him! Run him through!" Immediately ahundred swords are whipped from their scabbards, and a united rush isdirected towards him. Sigurd sees his chance is gone; he dashes alongthe path in swift retreat, followed by the yelling foe. Presently hedarts from the path and makes for the hills, tearing through bracken,furze, and brushwood, and leaping boulders with an agility none but amountaineer and a hunter who had been wont all his life to go swingingover these mountain sides, until the sinews of his legs had become likethongs of steel, could make pretence to imitate. Presently he turns toglance at the crew behind, and he laughs a savage laugh as he sees themhuddling together like sheep at the bottom of the pass, some afraid tofollow, and all of them conscious of the hopelessness of it. With anexclamation of contempt, he catches up a fragment of rock and hurls itwith terrific energy amongst them, striking one of them on the shoulder,and knocking him to the ground with a broken shoulder-blade. Then, witha hysterical laugh, and a fierce brandish aloft of his sword, he dashesoff again towards the summit. With wondering gaze the Normans watch himscaling, ridge after ridge, the beetling brow of the hill far abovethem, like a stag bounding from the hunter. Presently he darts over thetopmost ridge, and is lost to view. He halts in a tiny hollow of themountain's brow, and, pulling out his sword, dripping with gore, hewipes it on the sward.

  "Aha!" he cried, apostrophising the fearsome weapon; "One more taste ofblood! Norman blood, too. I love to see Norman blood. It drips, too;that means more will soon be shed."[5] Then, running his hand along itsedge, he exclaimed, "Nothing blunted, my trusty friend Tyrfing,[6] readyas ever for the fray!" he shouted in frenzy, and commenced to hack andhew as though in deadly conflict with an invisible foe, the perspirationpouring off him in streams. But human nature, though it be never sostrong, has its limits. This frenzied, this almost maniacal outburst,was followed by complete physical exhaustion. Like a stone, he droppedflat upon the ground, and there he lay without motion or any sign ofexistence whatever for a full hour or more. Had the Normans but known ofthe wild drama being enacted beyond the brow of the mountain, it wouldhave been a fatal day to Sigurd, for the Normans had had so many tastesof his prowess, and of his mad daring, that they would have given largetreasure to have this dreaded foe within their power. But this was notdestined to be the last time when he should strike terror into theirranks when they least suspected him.

  [Footnote 5: It was a Norse superstition that if the blood flowed, morewould soon be shed.]

  [Footnote 6: The foe hater.]

  The sun had performed a considerable part of his day's journey whenSigurd began to manifest signs of returning consciousness. First therewere sundry stretchings of the muscles, followed by a momentaryunclosing of the eyelids. Then he sat up and gazed around, as thoughbewildered with his surroundings. By-and-by he seemed to recover arecollection of the incidents preceding the stupor he had been passingthrough. By an effort he rose to his feet, and staggered rather thanwalked to a cool spring of water, which, born of the clouds whichconstantly encircled these lofty peaks, was hurrying away with musicalripple to the lowlands. He drank a hearty draught of the ice-cold water;then he bathed his throbbing temples with it. Sitting down then, andtaking from a wallet slung behind him a substantial piece of roast kid'sflesh and a hunch of bread, he ate a hearty meal, and washed it downwith another copious draught of water. Much refreshed by this, he nextmounted to the topmost ridge. There, lying at full length, he ran hiseye most minutely over every inch of the valleys on either side,carefully noting every suspicious object that came within the sweep ofhis vision. Then, with equal care, he searched the adjacent hills. TheNormans he could see hurrying to and fro near their camp, some fivemiles away. But apparently there was nothing at all menacing to hisposition.

  Rising to his feet, he strode along the ridge for a mile or two, thencommenced to descend for another mile or two, in an oblique direction,until he disappeared from view in a dense wood, which covered the lowerreaches of the valley on either side. Holding a downward course, andpushing aside the brushwood, he came ultimately to a stream of water,which, with one gigantic leap, started from its rocky bed and leapedunimpeded full eighty feet, falling into a deep, surging pool, where thewaters, finding a level, flowed sluggishly away. The vast amphithea
treappeared to have been worn away by this leap of the waters, and by thecrumbling away of the softer shale below, which had undermined andbrought down the rocks from above.

  This untamed warrior stood on the brink of the precipice with foldedarms. There was something in the scene which consorted with his rude andrugged nature, and wonderfully soothed his warring passions. The daws,with cawing clamorousness, flew to and fro across the abyss, and creptinto the crevices of the rock where their nests were. The swallowsskimmed along the surface of the waters, ever and anon darting upwardsto some skilfully made nest of baked clay, clinging to the rocky sides,and from which little black heads were anxiously peeping, and twitteringlustily. Bird life here seemed to have found a veritable paradise, andthey literally thronged bush and tree, and rock and bank, everywhere.Sigurd stood gazing down the ravine through an interminable labyrinth offoliage-laden trees. Here was a grand solitude such as his soul loved,and he regarded every tree in the forest as a personal friend. Presentlyhe turned to one side of this abyss, and steadfastly regarded threestones which were laid side by side for a moment or two; then he alteredthe position of one of them, and immediately dropped down on to ashelving rock, and from that to another, and so on, until he haddescended a considerable distance. Then suddenly he disappeared on handsand knees into an aperture of the rock which was completely hidden fromthe view of any one standing above. As soon as this portal was passed,he found himself in a spacious cavern, where evidently men were wont toresort, for there were many things denoting human occupation. Sigurdhastily threw off his armour and reared his sword, with the beltappended, against the rock. Then he threw himself upon a couch of driedbracken and grass, and was soon fast asleep.

  Presently two wild-looking men appeared on the scene. One carried abrace of rabbits, and the other had over his shoulder a young fawn;whilst at their heels there followed a couple of fierce-looking hounds.They looked at the three stones, and one of them exclaimed,--

  "The Jarl is here!"

  "Doubtful luck that," growled the other.

  They, however, changed the position of the other two stones, and thenthey followed their chieftain to his retreat. No sooner did they enterthan one prepared to light a fire, and the other to skin and dress theanimals they had brought. As soon as this was done, a huge iron pot wassuspended on cross-poles over the fire, with about a gallon of water. Inthis were thrown a couple of haunches of venison with the rabbits. Thenone of them turned to a vessel in which a quantity of corn was steepingin water. Two or three pounds of this, along with some savoury herbs androots, and a quantity of salt, were deposited in the pot. Then the pairsat down to await the cooking of this substantial and savoury mess.Whilst this was being done, Sigurd slept soundly, and the pair carriedon a conversation in a low tone, and interspersing their talk withsundry nods and motions towards the sleeping chieftain.

  "There will be stirring times again, now, I warrant," said one.

  "Yes; plenty of blood-letting, and plenty of scurrying over themountains with the Normans at our heels," said the other.

  "There will soon be none of us left, either for fight or aught else.There has been a desperate thinning going on."

  "Well, it won't be a cow's death, anyhow, and that is some comfort forus."

  Soon the boiling-pot began to send forth a most savoury and appetisingsmell, to these half-famished men.

  "Wake the Jarl," said one to the other; "he must first break his fast."

  So one of them gave Sigurd a rough shaking, and he presently sat up andrubbed his eyes; then he saluted his men.

  "Skalds, how fare ye?"

  "The hawks have not been so much abroad of late, so we have faredtolerably."

  "But ye'll soon have to be on the alert, for the old eagle has beenplaying havoc with the hawks down in the pass yonder; a dozen of them atleast will swoop upon their prey no more. But I'll taste your stew. Hotvictuals have not been plentiful lately. Where are your comrades?"

  "Scattered a good deal. There are a dozen lurking among the pikes. Some,the family men, have snug quarters near Deepwaters."

  "Make signals for them. We have been idle long enough. We must bestirourselves, for the Norman gets a tighter grip upon us every day we areidle."