Kitabı oku: «The Hot Swamp», sayfa 13
Chapter Twenty Six
Further Searchings and Perplexities
While these events were taking place at court, the bold chief Gadarn was ranging the country far and wide in search of his daughter Branwen.
There was something in his manner which puzzled his followers not a little, for he seemed to have changed his character—at least to have added to it a strange, wild hilarity which suggested the idea that he enjoyed the hunt and was in no hurry that it should come to an end. Those who knew him best began at last to fear that anxiety had unsettled his reason, and Bladud, who liked the man’s gay, reckless disposition and hearty good-humour, intermingled with occasional bursts of fierce passion, was not only puzzled but distressed by the wild inconsistency of his proceedings. The Hebrew, knowing to some extent the cause of what he did, and feeling bound by his promise to conceal his knowledge, was reduced to a state of mind that is not describable.
On the one hand there was the mystery of Cormac’s total disappearance in a short walk of three miles. On the other hand, there was the utter uselessness of searching for Branwen, yet the urgent need of searching diligently for Cormac. Then there was the fear of consequences when the fiery Gadarn should come to find out how he had been deceived, or rather, what moderns might style humbugged; add to which he was debarred the solace of talking the subject over with Bladud, besides being, in consequence of his candid disposition, in danger of blurting out words that might necessitate a revelation. One consequence was that, for the time at least, the grave and amiable Hebrew became an abrupt, unsociable, taciturn man.
“What ails you just now, Beniah?” asked Bladud, one evening as they walked together to Gadarn’s booth, having been invited to supper. “You seem out of condition mentally, if not bodily, as if some one had rubbed you the wrong way.”
“Do I?” answered Beniah, with a frown and something between a grin and a laugh. “Well, it is not easy to understand one’s mental complaints, much less to explain them.”
Fortunately their arrival at the booth put a timely end to the conversation.
“Ha! my long-legged prince and stalwart Hebrew!” cried the jovial chief in a loud voice, “I began to fear that you had got lost—as folk seem prone to do in this region—or had forgotten all about us! Come in and sit ye down. Ho! varlet, set down the victuals. After all, you are just in the nick of time. Well, Beniah, what think you of our search to-day? Has it been close? Is it likely that we have missed any of the caves or cliffs where robbers might be hiding?”
“I think not. It seems to me that we have ransacked every hole and corner in which there is a chance that the lad could be found.”
“The lad!” exclaimed Gadarn.
“I—I mean—your daughter,” returned the Hebrew, quickly.
“Why don’t you say what you mean, then? One expects a man of your years to talk without confusion—or is it that you are really more anxious about finding the boy than my girl?”
“Nay, that be far from me,” answered the Hebrew. “To say truth, I am to the full as anxious to find the one as the other, for it matters not which you—”
“Matters not!” repeated Gadarn, fiercely.
“Well, of course, I mean that my friendship for you and Bladud makes me wish to see you each satisfied by finding both the boy and the girl.”
“For my part,” said Bladud, quietly, “I sincerely hope that we may find them both, for we are equally anxious to do so.”
“Equally!” exclaimed Gadarn, with a look of lofty surprise. “Dost mean to compare your regard for your young friend with a father’s love for his only child!”
The prince did not easily take offence, but he could not refrain from a flush and a frown as he replied, sharply—
“I make no useless comparisons, chief. It is sufficient that we are both full of anxiety, and are engaged in the same quest.”
“Ay, the same quest—undoubtedly,” observed the Hebrew in a grumbling, abstracted manner.
“If it were possible,” returned Gadarn, sternly, “to give up the search for your boy and confine it entirely to my girl, I would do so. But as they went astray about the same place, we are compelled, however little we like it, to hunt together.”
“Not compelled, chief,” cried Bladud, with a look and a flash in his blue eye which presaged a sudden rupture of friendly relations. “We can each go our own way and hunt on our own account.”
“Scarcely,” replied the chief, “for if you found my daughter, you would be bound in honour to deliver her up; and if I found your boy, I should feel myself bound to do the same.”
“It matters not a straw which is found,” cried the Hebrew, exasperated at the prospect of a quarrel between the two at such an inopportune moment. “Surely, as an old man, I have the right to remonstrate with you for encouraging anything like disagreement when our success in finding the boy,—I—I mean the girl,—depends—”
A burst of laughter from the chief cut him short.
“You don’t seem to be quite sure of what you mean,” he cried, “or to be able to say it. Come, come, prince, if the Hebrew claims a right to remonstrate because he is twenty years or so older than I am, surely I may claim the same right, for I am full twenty years older than you. Is it seemly to let your hot young blood boil over at every trifle? Here, let me replenish your platter, for it is ill hunting after man, woman, or beast without a stomach full of victuals.”
There was no resisting the impulsive chief.
Both his guests cleared their brows and laughed—though there was still a touch of exasperation in the Hebrew’s tone.
While the search was being thus diligently though needlessly prosecuted in the neighbourhood of the Hot Swamp by Gadarn, who was dearly fond of a practical joke, another chief, who was in no joking humour, paid a visit one evening to his mother. Perhaps it is unnecessary to say that this chief was Gunrig.
“From all that I see and hear, mother,” he said, walking up and down the room, as was his habit, with his hands behind him, “it is clear that if I do not go about it myself, the king will let the matter drop; for he is convinced that the girl has run off with some fellow, and will easily make her way home.”
“Don’t you think he may be right, my son?”
“No, I don’t, my much-too-wise mother. I know the girl better than that. It is enough to look in her face to know that she could not run away with any fellow!”
“H’m!” remarked the woman significantly.
“What say you?” demanded the chief, sharply.
“I scarcely know what to say. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to take a band of our own men and go off in search of the girl yourself.”
“That’s just what I’ve made up my mind to do; but I wanted to see if Hudibras would get up a band to join mine, for I dare not take many away from the town when that scoundrel Addedomar is threatening to make a raid upon us.”
“My son,” said the woman anxiously, “what threatened raid do you speak of?”
“Did you not hear? Since the last time we gave that robber a drubbing at the Hot Swamp, he has taken to the woods and gathered together a large band of rascals like himself. We would not have minded that—for honest men are always numerous enough to keep villains in order—but two chiefs who have long been anxious to take possession of the land round the Swamp have agreed to join with him, so that they form a formidable body of warriors—too large to be treated with contempt.”
“This is bad news, Gunrig. How does the king take it?”
“In his usual way. He does not believe in danger or mischief till it has overtaken him, and it is almost too late for action. There is one hope, however, that he will be induced to move in time. A young fellow has come from the far East, who was a great friend of that long-legged fellow Bladud, and he is bent on finding out where his friend has gone. Of course the king is willing to let him have as many men as he wants, though he sternly refuses to let Bladud return home; and I hope to induce this youth—Dromas, they call him—to join me, so that we may search together; for, of course, the search for the man may result in finding the girl. My only objection is that if we do find Bladud, I shall have to fight and kill him—unless the leprosy has happily killed him already. So, now, I will away and see what can be done about this hunt. My object in coming was to get my men, and to warn those left in charge of the town to keep a keen look-out for Addedomar, for he is a dangerous foe. Farewell, mother.”
The woman was not addicted to the melting mood. She merely nodded as her son went out.
In pursuance of this plan, a band of about two hundred warriors was raised, armed, and provisioned for a long journey. Gunrig put himself at the head of a hundred and fifty of these, and Dromas, being a skilled warrior, was given command of the remaining fifty, with Captain Arkal, who begged to be allowed to go as his lieutenant, and little Maikar as one of his fighting men.
The orders were, that they should start off in the direction of the Hot Swamp, searching the country as they went, making diligent inquiries at the few villages they might pass, and questioning all travellers whom they might chance to meet with by the way. If Branwen should be found, she was to be sent back escorted by a detachment of a hundred men. If the retreat of Bladud should be discovered, news of the fact was to be sent to the king, and the prince was to be left there in peace with any of the men who might volunteer to live with him. But on no account were they or Bladud to return to Hudibras’ town as long as there was the least danger of infection.
“Is he never to return?” asked the queen, whimpering, when she heard these orders given.
“No, never!” answered the king in that awful tone which the poor queen knew too well meant something like a decree of Fate.
“Oh, father!” remonstrated Hafrydda—and Dromas loved her for the remonstrance—“not even if he is cured?”
“Well, of course, if he is cured, my child, that alters the case. But how am I to know that he is cured?—who is to judge? Our court doctor knows as much about it as a sucking pig—perhaps less!”
“Perhaps the Hebrew knows,” suggested Hafrydda—and Dromas loved her for the suggestion!
“Ah, to be sure! I forgot the Hebrew. You may call at his hut in passing and take him with you, if he has come home yet. He’s an amiable old man, and may consent to go. If not—make him. Away! and cease to worry me. That’s the way to get rid of business, my queen; isn’t it?”
“Certainly—it is one way,” answered the queen, turning to the two commanders. “Go, and my blessing go with you!”
“Success attend you!” murmured the princess, glancing timidly at Dromas—and as Dromas gazed upon her fair face, and golden curls, and modest mien, he felt that he loved her for herself!
Success did not, however, attend them at first, for on reaching the Hebrew’s hut they found it empty, and no amount of shouting availed to call Beniah from the “vasty deep” of the chasm, or the dark recesses of the secret chamber.
Pursuing their way, therefore, the small army was soon lost to view in the forest.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Cross Purposes and Complications
We turn now to another scene in the wild-woods, not far distant from the Hot Swamp.
It is a thickly-wooded hollow on the eastern slopes of the high ridge that bounds one side of the valley of the Springs. Sturdy oaks, tall poplars, lordly elms and beeches, cast a deep shade over the spot which was rendered almost impenetrable by dense underwood. Even in brightest sunshine light entered it with difficulty, and in gloomy weather a sort of twilight constantly prevailed, while at night the place became the very abode of thick darkness.
In this retreat was assembled, one gloomy afternoon, a large body of armed men, not connected with the searching parties which had been ransacking the region in the vain duplex search which we have tried to describe. It was a war-party under the command of Addedomar the outlaw—if we may thus characterise a man in a land where there was little or no law of any kind, save that of might.
It was a strong band, numbering nearly four hundred warriors, all of whom were animated with the supposed-to-be noble desire to commit theft on a very large scale. It is true, they called it “conquest,” which word in those days, as in modern times even among civilised people, meant killing many of the natives of a place and taking possession of their lands. Then—as now—this was sometimes styled “right of conquest,” and many people thought then, as some think even now, that by putting this word “right” before “conquest” they made it all right! and had somehow succeeded in abrogating the laws, “Thou shalt not steal,” and “Do to others as thou wouldest have others do to thee,” laws which were written by God in the human understanding long before Moses descended with the decalogue from Sinai.
However, as we have said, there was little or no law in the land of old Albion at the time of which we write, so that we can scarcely wonder at the aspirations of the band under Addedomar—aspirations which were to the full as strong—perhaps even as noble—as those of Alexander the Great or the first Napoleon.
It had been ascertained by some stray hunter of Addedomar’s party that considerable bands of men were ranging the valley of the Springs and its neighbourhood in search of something or some one, and that they went about usually in small detached parties. The stray hunter, with an eye, doubtless, to his personal interest, conveyed the news to the robber chief, who, having made secret and extensive preparations, happened at the time to be on his way to raid the territories of King Hudibras, intending to take the town of Gunrig as a piece of by-play in passing.
Here, however, was an opportunity of striking a splendid blow without travelling so far. By keeping his force united, and sending a number of scouts in advance, he could attack and overwhelm the scattered detachments in succession. He, therefore, in the meantime, abandoned his original plan, and turned aside to the neighbourhood of the Hot Swamp. There he remained in the sequestered hollow, which has been described, awaiting the return of his scouts. There was no difficulty in feeding an army in those days, for the forests of Albion abounded with game, and the silent bow, unlike the noisy fire-arm, could be used effectively without betraying the presence of the hunter.
The eyes of Addedomar opened wider and wider as his scouts dropped in one by one, and his heart beat high with glee and hope at the news they brought, for it opened up a speedy conquest in detail of more foes than he had counted on meeting with, and left the prospect of his afterwards carrying into execution his original plan.
The first scout brought the intelligence that it was not the men of King Hudibras who were in the neighbourhood, but those of Gadarn, the great chief of the far north, who had come there with an armed force in search of his daughter—she having gone lost, stolen, or strayed in the wilderness.
“Is the band a large one?” demanded Addedomar.
“It is; but not so large as ours, and it is weakened every day by being sent into the woods in different directions and in three detachments.”
“Excellent! Ha! we will join Gadarn in this search, not only for his daughter, but for himself, and we will double the number of his detachments when we meet them, by slicing each man in two.”
A loud laugh greeted this pleasantry, for robbers were easily tickled in those days.
“I also discovered,” continued the scout, “that there is search being made at the same time for some boy or lad, who seems to have disappeared, or run away, or been caught by robbers.”
Again there was a laugh at the idea that there were other robbers about besides themselves, but the chief checked them.
“Did you find out anything else about this lad?” he asked.
“Only that he seemed from his dress to be a hunter.”
Addedomar frowned and looked at the ground for some moments in meditation.
“I’m convinced,” he said at last, “that this lad is none other than the girl who escaped in the hunting dress of my young brother, just the day before I returned to camp. Mother was not as careful as she might have been at that time, and lost me a pretty wife. Good! Things are turning out well to-day. We will rout Gadarn, find his daughter and this so-called lad, and then I shall have two wives instead of one.”
The robber chief had just come to this satisfactory conclusion, when another scout arrived.
“How now, varlet? Do you bring good news?”
“That depends on what you consider good,” answered the scout, panting. “I have just learned that a large body of King Hudibras’ men—about two hundred, I believe—is on its way to the Swamp to search for his son Bladud—”
“What! the giant whom we have heard tell of—who gave Gunrig such a drubbing?”
“The same. It seems that he has been smitten with leprosy, has been banished from court, and has taken up his abode somewhere near the Swamp.”
“But if he has been banished, why do they send out to search for him, I wonder?” said the robber chief.
“It is said,” returned the scout, “that a friend of Bladud from the far East wants to find him.”
“Good! This is rare good luck. We, too, will search for Bladud and slay him. It is not every day that a man has the chance to kill a giant with leprosy, and a king’s son into the bargain.”
“I also learned,” continued the scout, “that some lady of the court has fled, and the army is to search of her too.”
“What! more women? Why, it seems as if these woods here must be swarming with them. I should not wonder, too, if it was Hudibras’ own daughter that has run away. Not unlikely, for the king is well known to be a tyrannical old fellow. H’m! we will search for her also. If we find them all, I shall have more than enough of wives—the king’s daughter, and Gadarn’s daughter, and this run-away-lad, whoever she may be! Learned you anything more?”
“Nothing more, except that Gadarn intends to make an early start to-morrow morning.”
“It is well. We, also, will make an early—an even earlier—start to-morrow morning. To your food, now, my men, and then—to rest!”
While the robber chief was thus conversing with his scouts, two men were advancing through the forest, one of whom was destined to interfere with the plans which were so well conceived by Addedomar. These were our friends Arkal and Maikar.
Filled with a sort of wild romance, which neither the waves of the sea nor the dangers of the land could abate, these two shipmates marched through the woods all unconscious, of course, of the important part they were destined to play in that era of the world’s history. The two sailors were alone, having obtained leave to range right and left in advance of the column to which they were attached, for the purpose of hunting.
“We are not much to boast of in the way of shooting,” remarked Arkal; “but the troops don’t know that, and good luck may prevent them finding it out.”
“Just so,” returned Maikar, “good luck may also bring us within arrow-shot of a wolf. I have set my heart on taking home a wolf-skin to that little woman with the black eyes that I’ve spoken to you about sometimes.”
“Quite right, young man,” said the captain, in an approving tone. “Nothing pleases folk so much as to find that they have been remembered by you when far away. Moreover, I think you stand a good chance, for I saw two wolves the other day when I was rambling about, but they were out of range.”
Chance or luck—whichever it was—did not bring a wolf within range that day, but it brought what was more important and dangerous—namely, a large brown bear. The animal was seated under a willow tree, with its head on one side as if in meditation, when the men came upon it. An intervening cliff had prevented the bear from hearing the footsteps of the men, and both parties, being taken by surprise, stared at each other for a moment in silence.
No word was spoken, but next instant the bear ran at them, and stood up on its hind legs, according to bear-nature, to attack. At the same moment both men discharged arrows at it with all their force. One arrow stuck in the animal’s throat, the other in his chest. But bears are proverbially hard to kill, and no vital part had been reached. Dropping their bows, the men turned and made for the nearest trees. They separated in doing so, and the bear lost a moment or two in making up its mind which to follow. Fortunately it decided in favour of Maikar. Had it followed Arkal, it would have caught him, for the captain, not being as agile as might be wished, missed his first spring up his tree, and slid back to the bottom.
Maikar, on the other hand, went up like a squirrel. Now, the little seaman had been told that some kinds of bears can climb while others cannot. Remembering the fact, he glanced anxiously down, as he went up. To his horror he saw that this bear could climb! and that his only chance would be to climb so high, that the branches which would bear his weight would not support the bear. It was a forlorn hope, but he resolved to try it.
Arkal, in the meantime, had recovered breath and self-possession. Seeing the danger of his comrade, he boldly dropped to the ground, picked up his bow, ran under the other tree, and sent an arrow deep into the bear’s flank. With a savage growl, the animal looked round, saw the captain getting ready a second arrow, and immediately began to descend. This rather disconcerted Arkal, who discharged his arrow hastily and missed.
Dropping his bow a second time he ran for dear life to his own tree and scrambled up. But he need not have been in such haste, for although some bears can ascend trees easily, they are clumsy and slow in descending. Consequently the captain was high up before his enemy began to climb. That was of little advantage, however, for in a few moments the bear would have been up with him, had not Maikar, moved by the consideration no doubt, that one good turn deserves another, dropped quickly to the ground, picked up his bow and repeated the captain’s operation, with even more telling effect, for his arrow made the bear so furious, that he turned round to bite it. In doing so he lost his hold, and fell to the ground with such a thud, that he drove the arrow further into him, and a vicious squeal out of him.
At this point little Maikar resolved to vary the plan of action. He stood his ground manfully, and, when the bear arose with a somewhat confused expression, he planted another arrow up to the feathers in its chest. Still the creature was unsubdued. It made a rush, but the sailor sprang lightly behind a tree, getting ready an arrow as he did so. When the animal rushed at him again, it received the shaft deep in the left shoulder, so that, with blood pouring from its many wounds, it stumbled and fell at its next rush.
Seeing how things were going, you may be sure that Arkal did not remain an idle spectator. He dropped again from the outer end of the bough he had reached, and when the bear rose once more to its feet, it found a foe on either side of it.
“Don’t shoot together,” panted Maikar, for all this violent action was beginning to tell on him. “Do you shoot first.”
This was said while the bear was in a state of indecision.
The captain obeyed and put another arrow in its neck. The bear turned savagely on him, thus exposing its side to Maikar, who took swift advantage of the chance, and, sending an arrow straight to its heart, turned it over dead!
It must be remarked here, that all this shooting was done at such close range that, although the two seamen were, as we have said, rather poor shots, they had little difficulty in hitting so large an object.
“Now, then, out with your knife and off with the claws for the little woman at home with the black eyes,” said Arkal, wiping the perspiration from his brow, “and be quick about it, so as to have it done before the troops come up.”
The little man was not long in accomplishing the job, and he had just put the claws in his pouch, and was standing up to wipe his knife, when the captain suddenly grasped his arm and drew him behind the trunk of a tree, from which point of vantage he cautiously gazed with an anxious expression and a dark frown.
