by Walter Scott
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH.
She comes! she comes! in all the charms of youth, Unequall'd love, and unsuspected truth!
Hereward was not long in tracing the cry through the wooded walks, whena female rushed into his arms; alarmed, as it appeared, by Sylvan, whowas pursuing her closely. The figure of Hereward, with his axeuplifted, put an instant stop to his career, and with a terrified noteof his native cries, he withdrew into the thickest of the adjoiningfoliage.
Relieved from his presence, Hereward had time to look at the femalewhom he had succoured: She was arrayed in a dress which consisted ofseveral colours, that which predominated being a pale yellow; her tunicwas of this colour, and, like a modern gown, was closely fitted to thebody, which, in the present case, was that of a tall, but verywell-formed person. The mantle, or upper garment, in which the wholefigure was wrapped, was of fine cloth; and the kind of hood which wasattached to it having flown back with the rapidity of her motion, gaveto view the hair beautifully adorned and twisted into a naturalhead-dress. Beneath this natural head-gear appeared a face pale asdeath, from a sense of the supposed danger, but which preserved, evenamidst its terrors, an exquisite degree of beauty.
Hereward was thunderstruck at this apparition. The dress was neitherGrecian, Italian, nor of the costume of the Franks;--it was_Saxon!_--connected by a thousand tender remembrances with Hereward'schildhood and youth. The circumstance was most extraordinary. Saxonwomen, indeed, there were in Constantinople, who had united theirfortunes with those of the Varangians; and those often chose to weartheir national dress in the city, because the character and conduct oftheir husbands secured them a degree of respect, which they might nothave met with either as Grecian or as stranger females of a similarrank. But almost all these were personally known to Hereward. It was notime, however, for reverie--he was himself in danger---the situation ofthe young female might be no safe one. In every case, it was judiciousto quit the more public part of the gardens; he therefore lost not amoment in conveying the fainting Saxon to a retreat he fortunately wasacquainted with. A covered path, obscured by vegetation, led through aspecies of labyrinth to an artificial cave, at the bottom of which,half-paved with shells, moss, and spar, lay the gigantic andhalf-recumbent statue of a river deity, with its usual attributes--thatis, its front crowned with water-lilies and sedges, and its ample handhalf-resting upon an empty urn. The attitude of the whole figurecorresponded with the motto,--"I SLEEP--AWAKE ME NOT."
"Accursed relic of paganism," said Hereward, who was, in proportion tohis light, a zealous Christian--"brutish stock or stone that thou art!I will wake thee with a vengeance." So saying, he struck the head ofthe slumbering deity with his battle-axe, and deranged the play of thefountain so much that the water began to pour into the basin.
"Thou art a good block, nevertheless," said the Varangian, "to sendsuccour so needful to the aid of my poor countrywoman. Thou shalt giveher also, with thy leave, a portion of thy couch." So saying hearranged his fair burden, who was as yet insensible, upon the pedestalwhere the figure of the River God reclined. In doing this, hisattention was recalled to her face, and again and again he was thrilledwith an emotion of hope, but so excessively like fear, that it couldonly be compared to the flickering of a torch, uncertain whether it isto light up or be instantly extinguished. With a sort of mechanicalattention, he continued to make such efforts as he could to recall theintellect of the beautiful creature before him. His feelings were thoseof the astronomical sage, to whom the rise of the moon slowly restoresthe contemplation of that heaven, which is at once, as a Christian, hishope of felicity, and, as a philosopher, the source of his knowledge.The blood returned to her cheek, and reanimation, and evenrecollection, took place in her earlier than in the astonishedVarangian.
"Blessed Mary!" she said, "have I indeed tasted the last bitter cup,and is it here where thou reunitest thy votaries after death!--Speak,Hereward! if thou art aught but an empty creature of theimagination!--speak, and tell me, if I have but dreamed of thatmonstrous ogre!"
"Collect thyself, my beloved Bertha," said the Anglo-Saxon, recalled bythe sound of her voice, "and prepare to endure what thou livest towitness, and thy Hereward survives to tell. That hideous thingexists--nay, do not start, and look for a hiding-place--thy own gentlehand with a riding rod is sufficient to tame its courage. And am I nothere, Bertha? Wouldst thou wish another safeguard?"
"No--no," exclaimed she, seizing on the arm of her recovered lover. "DoI not know you now?"
"And is it but now you know me, Bertha?" said Hereward.
"I suspected before," she said, casting down her eyes; "but I know withcertainty that mark of the boar's tusk."
Hereward suffered her imagination to clear itself from the shock it hadreceived so suddenly, before he ventured to enter upon present events,in which there was so much both to doubt and to fear. He permitted her,therefore, to recall to her memory all the circumstances of the rousingthe hideous animal, assisted by the tribes of both their fathers. Shementioned in broken words the flight of arrows discharged against theboar by young and old, male and female, and how her own well aimed, butfeeble shaft, wounded him sharply; she forgot not how, incensed at thepain, the creature rushed upon her as the cause, laid her palfrey deadupon the spot, and would soon have slain her, had not Hereward, whenevery attempt failed to bring his horse up to the monster, thrownhimself from his seat, and interposed personally between the boar andBertha. The battle was not decided without a desperate struggle; theboar was slain, but Hereward received the deep gash upon his brow whichshe whom he had saved how recalled to her memory. "Alas!" she said,"what have we been to each other since that period? and what are wenow, in this foreign land?"
"Answer for thyself, my Bertha," said the Varangian, "if thoucanst;--and if thou canst with truth say that thou art the same Berthawho vowed affection to Hereward, believe me, it were sinful to supposethat the saints have brought us together with a view of our beingafterwards separated."
"Hereward," said Bertha, "you have not preserved the bird in your bosomsafer than I have; at home or abroad, in servitude or in freedom,amidst sorrow or joy, plenty or want, my thought was always on thetroth I had plighted to Hereward at the stone of Odin."
"Say no more of that," said Hereward; "it was an impious rite, and goodcould not come of it."
"Was it then so impious?" she said, the unbidden tear rushing into herlarge blue eyes.--"Alas! it was a pleasure to reflect that Hereward wasmine by that solemn engagement!"
"Listen to me, my Bertha," said Hereward, taking her hand: "We werethen almost children; and though our vow was in itself innocent, yet itwas so far wrong, as being sworn in the presence of a dumb idol,representing one who was, while alive, a bloody and cruel magician. Butwe will, the instant an opportunity offers itself, renew our vow beforea shrine of real sanctity, and promise suitable penance for ourignorant acknowledgment of Odin, to propitiate the real Deity, who canbear us through those storms of adversity which are like to surroundus."
Leaving them for the time to their love-discourse, of a nature pure,simple, and interesting, we shall give, in a few words, all that thereader needs to know of their separate history between the boar's huntand the time of their meeting in the gardens of Agelastes.
In that doubtful state experienced by outlaws, Waltheoff, the father ofHereward, and Engelred, the parent of Bertha, used to assemble theirunsubdued tribes, sometimes in the fertile regions of Devonshire,sometimes in the dark wooded solitudes of Hampshire, but as much aspossible within the call of the bugle of the famous Edric the Forester,so long leader of the insurgent Saxons. The chiefs we have mentionedwere among the last bold men who asserted the independence of the Saxonrace of England; and like their captain Edric, they were generallyknown by the name of Foresters, as men who lived by hunting, when theirpower of making excursions was checked and repelled. Hence they made astep backwards in civilization, and became more like to their remoteancestors of German descent, than they were to their more immediate an
dcivilized predecessors, who before the battle of Hastings, had advancedconsiderably in the arts of civilized life.
Old superstitions had begun to revive among them, and hence thepractice of youths and maidens plighting their troth at the stonecircles dedicated, as it was supposed, to Odin, in whom, however, theyhad long ceased to nourish any of the sincere belief which wasentertained by their heathen ancestors.
In another respect these outlaws were fast resuming a strikingpeculiarity of the ancient Germans. Their circumstances naturallybrought the youth of both sexes much together, and by early marriage,or less permanent connexions, the population would have increased farbeyond the means which the outlaws had to maintain, or even to protectthemselves. The laws of the Foresters, therefore, strictly enjoinedthat marriages should be prohibited until the bridegroom was twenty-oneyears complete. Future alliances were indeed often formed by the youngpeople, nor was this discountenanced by their parents, provided thatthe lovers waited until the period when the majority of the bridegroomshould permit them to marry. Such youths as infringed this rule,incurred the dishonourable epithet of _niddering_, or worthless,--anepithet of a nature so insulting, that men were known to have slainthemselves, rather than endure life under such opprobrium. But theoffenders were very few amidst a race trained in moderation andself-denial; and hence it was that woman, worshipped for so many yearslike something sacred, was received, when she became the head of afamily, into the arms and heart of a husband who had so long expectedher, was treated as something more elevated than the mere idol of themoment; and feeling the rate at which she was valued, endeavoured byher actions to make her life correspond with it.
It was by the whole population of these tribes, as well as theirparents, that after the adventure of the boar hunt, Hereward and Berthawere considered as lovers whose alliance was pointed out by Heaven, andthey were encouraged to approximate as much as their mutualinclinations prompted them. The youths of the tribe avoided askingMartha's hand at the dance, and the maidens used no maidenly entreatyor artifice to detain Hereward beside them, if Bertha was present atthe feast. They clasped each other's hands through the perforatedstone, which they called the altar of Odin, though later ages haveascribed it to the Druids, and they implored that if they broke theirfaith to each other, their fault might be avenged by the twelve swordswhich were now drawn around them during the ceremony by as many youths,and that their misfortunes might be so many as twelve maidens, whostood around with their hair loosened, should be unable to recount,either in prose or verse.
The torch of the Saxon Cupid shone for some years as brilliant as whenit was first lighted. The time, however, came when they were to betried by adversity, though undeserved by the perfidy of either. Yearshad gone past, and Hereward had to count with anxiety how many monthsand weeks were to separate him from the bride, who was beginningalready by degrees to shrink less shyly from the expressions andcaresses of one who was soon to term her all his own. William Rufus,however, had formed a plan of totally extirpating the Foresters, whoseimplacable hatred, and restless love of freedom, had so often disturbedthe quiet of his kingdom, and despised his forest laws. He assembledhis Norman forces, and united to them a body of Saxons who hadsubmitted to his rule. He thus brought an overpowering force upon thebands of Waltheoff and Engelred, who found no resource but to throw thefemales of their tribe, and such as could, not bear arms, into aconvent dedicated to St. Augustin, of which Kenelm their relation wasprior, and then turning to the battle, vindicated their ancient valourby fighting it to the last. Both the unfortunate chiefs remained deadon the field, and Hereward and his brother had wellnigh shared theirfate; but some Saxon inhabitants of the neighbourhood, who adventuredon the field of battle, which the victors had left bare of every thingsave the booty of the kites and the ravens, found the bodies of theyouths still retaining life. As they were generally well known and muchbeloved by these people, Hereward and his brother were taken care oftill their wounds began to close, and their strength returned. Herewardthen heard the doleful news of the death of his father and Engelred.His next enquiry was concerning his betrothed bride and her mother. Thepoor inhabitants could give him little information. Some of the femaleswho had taken refuge in the convent, the Norman knights and nobles hadseized upon as their slaves, and the rest, with the monks who hadharboured them, were turned adrift, and their place of retreat wascompletely sacked and burnt to the ground.
Half-dead himself at hearing these tidings, Hereward sallied out, andat every risk of death, for the Saxon Foresters were treated asoutlaws, commenced enquiries after those so dear to him. He askedconcerning the particular fate of Bertha and her mother, among themiserable creatures who yet hovered about the neighbourhood of theconvent, like a few half-scorched bees about their smothered hive. But,in the magnitude of their own terrors, none had retained eyes for theirneighbours, and all that they could say was, that the wife and daughterof Engelred were certainly lost; and their imaginations suggested somany heart-rending details to this conclusion, that Hereward gave upall thoughts of further researches, likely to terminate so uselesslyand so horribly.
The young Saxon had been all his life bred up in a patriotic hatred tothe Normans, who did not, it was likely, become dearer to his thoughtsin consequence of this victory. He dreamed at first of crossing thestrait, to make war against the hated enemy in their own country; butan idea so extravagant did not long retain possession of his mind. Hisfate was decided by his encountering an aged palmer, who knew orpretended to have known, his father, and to be a native of England.This man was a disguised Varangian, selected for the purpose, possessedof art and dexterity, and well provided with money. He had littledifficulty in persuading Hereward, in the hopeless desolation of hiscondition, to join the Varangian Guard, at this moment at war with theNormans, under which name it suited Hereward's prepossessions torepresent the Emperor's wars with Robert Guiscard, his son Bohemond,and other adventurers, in Italy, Greece, or Sicily. A journey to theEast also inferred a pilgrimage, and gave the unfortunate Hereward thechance of purchasing pardon for his sins by visiting the Holy Land. Ingaining Hereward, the recruiter also secured the services of his elderbrother, who had vowed not to separate from him.
The high character of both brothers for courage, induced this wilyagent to consider them as a great prize, and it was from the memorandarespecting the history and character of those whom he recruited, inwhich the elder had been unreservedly communicative, that Agelastespicked up the information respecting Hereward's family andcircumstances, which, at their first secret interview, he made use ofto impress upon the Varangian the idea of his supernatural knowledge.Several of his companions in arms were thus gained over; for it willeasily be guessed, that these memorials were intrusted to the keepingof Achilles Tatius, and he, to further their joint purposes, impartedthem to Agelastes, who thus obtained a general credit for supernaturalknowledge among these ignorant men. But Hereward's blunt faith andhonesty enabled him to shun the snare.
Such being the fortunes of Hereward, those of Bertha formed the subjectof a broken and passionate communication between the lovers, brokenlike an April day, and mingled with many a tender caress, such asmodesty permits to lovers when they meet again unexpectedly after aseparation, which threatened to be eternal. But the story may becomprehended in few words. Amid the general sack of the monastery, anold Norman knight seized upon Bertha as his prize. Struck with herbeauty, he designed her as an attendant upon his daughter, just thencome out of the years of childhood, and the very apple of her father'seye, being the only child of his beloved Countess, and sent late inlife to bless their marriage-bed. It was in the order of things thatthe lady of Aspramonte, who was considerably younger than the knight,should govern her husband, and that Brenhilda, their daughter, shouldgovern both her parents.
The Knight of Aspramonte, however, it may be observed, entertained somedesire to direct his young offspring to more feminine amusements thanthose which began already to put her life frequently in danger.Contradiction was not to b
e thought of, as the good old knight knew byexperience. The influence and example of a companion a little olderthan herself might be of some avail, and it was with this view that, inthe confusion of the sack, Aspramonte seized upon the youthful Bertha.Terrified to the utmost degree, she clung to her mother, and the Knightof Aspramonte, who had a softer heart than was then usually found undera steel cuirass, moved by the affliction of the mother and daughter,and recollecting that the former might also be a useful attendant uponhis lady, extended his protection to both, and conveying them out ofthe press, paid the soldiers who ventured to dispute the spoil withhim, partly in some small pieces of money, and partly in dry blows withthe reverse of his lance.
The well-natured knight soon after returned to his own castle, andbeing a man of an orderly life and virtuous habits, the charmingbeauties of the Saxon virgin, and the more ripened charms of hermother, did not prevent their travelling in all honour as well assafety to his family fortress, the castle of Aspramonte. Here suchmasters as could be procured were got together to teach the youngBertha every sort of female accomplishment, In the hope that hermistress, Brenhilda, might be inspired with a desire to partake in hereducation; but although this so far succeeded, that the Saxon captivebecame highly skilled in such music, needle-work, and other femaleaccomplishments as were known to the time, yet her young mistress,Brenhilda, retained the taste for those martial amusements which had sosensibly grieved her father, but to which her mother, who herself hadnourished such fancies in her youth, readily gave sanction.
The captives, however, were kindly treated. Brenhilda became infinitelyattached to the young Anglo-Saxon, whom she loved less for heringenuity in arts, than for her activity in field sports, to which herearly state of independence had trained her.
The Lady of Aspramonte was also kind to both the captives; but, in oneparticular, she exercised a piece of petty tyranny over them. She hadimbibed an idea, strengthened by an old doting father-confessor, thatthe Saxons were heathens at that time, or at least heretics, and made apositive point with her husband that the bondswoman and girl who wereto attend on her person and that of her daughter, should be qualifiedfor the office by being anew admitted into the Christian Church bybaptism.
Though feeling the falsehood and injustice of the accusation, themother had sense enough to submit to necessity, and received the nameof Martha in all form at the altar, to which she answered during therest of her life.
But Bertha showed a character upon this occasion inconsistent with thegeneral docility and gentleness of her temper. She boldly refused to beadmitted anew into the pale of the Church, of which her conscience toldher she was already a member, or to exchange for another the nameoriginally given her at the font. It was in vain that the old knightcommanded, that the lady threatened, and that her mother advised andentreated. More closely pressed in private by her mother, she let hermotive be known, which had not before been suspected. "I know," shesaid, with a flood of tears, "that my father would have died ere I wassubjected to this insult; and then--who shall assure me that vows whichwere made to the Saxon Bertha, will be binding if a French Agatha besubstituted in her stead? They may banish me," she said, "or kill me ifthey will, but if the son of Waltheoff should again meet with thedaughter of Engelred, he shall meet that Bertha whom he knew in theforests of Hampton."
All argument was in vain; the Saxon maiden remained obstinate, and totry to break her resolution, the Lady of Aspramonte at length spoke ofdismissing her from the service of her young mistress, and banishingher from the castle. To this also she had made up her mind, and sheanswered firmly though respectfully, that she would sorrow bitterly atparting with her young lady; but as to the rest, she would rather begunder her own name, than be recreant to the faith of her fathers andcondemn it as heresy, by assigning one of Frank origin. The LadyBrenhilda, in the meantime, entered the chamber, where her mother wasjust about to pass the threatened doom of banishment.--"Do not stop formy entrance, madam," said the dauntless young lady; "I am as muchconcerned in the doom which you are about to pass as is Bertha; If shecrosses the drawbridge of Aspramonte as an exile, so will I, when shehas dried her tears, of which even my petulance could never wring onefrom her eyes. She shall be my squire and body attendant, andLauncelot, the bard, shall follow with my spear and shield."
"And you will return, mistress," said her mother, "from so foolish anexpedition, before the sun sets?"
"So heaven further me in my purpose, lady," answered the young heiress,"the sun shall neither rise nor set that sees us return, till this nameof Bertha, and of her mistress, Brenhilda, are wafted as far as thetrumpet of fame can sound them.--Cheer up, my sweetest Bertha!" shesaid, taking her attendant by the hand, "If heaven hath torn thee fromthy country and thy plighted troth, it hath given thee a sister and afriend, with whom thy fame shall be forever blended."
The Lady of Aspramonte was confounded: She knew that her daughter wasperfectly capable of the wild course which she had announced, and thatshe herself, even with her husband's assistance, would be unable toprevent her following it. She passively listened, therefore, while theSaxon matron, formerly Urica, but now Martha, addressed her daughter."My child," she said, "as you value honour, virtue, safety, andgratitude, soften your heart towards your master and mistress, andfollow the advice of a parent, who has more years and more judgmentthan you. And you, my dearest young lady, let not your lady-motherthink that an attachment to the exercises you excel in, has destroyedin your bosom filial affection, and a regard to the delicacy of yoursex!--As they seem both obstinate, madam," continued the matron, afterwatching the influence of this advice upon the young woman, "perhaps,if it may be permitted me. I could state an alternative, which might,in the meanwhile, satisfy your ladyship's wishes, accommodate itself tothe wilfulness of my obstinate daughter, and answer the kind purpose ofher generous mistress." The Lady of Aspramonte signed to the Saxonmatron to proceed. She went on accordingly: "The Saxons, dearest lady,of the present day, are neither pagans nor heretics; they are, in thetime of keeping Easter, as well as in all other disputable doctrine,humbly obedient to the Pope of Rome; and this our good Bishop wellknows, since he upbraided some of the domestics for calling me an oldheathen. Yet our names are uncouth in the ears of the Franks, and bear,perhaps, a heathenish sound. If it be not exacted that my daughtersubmit to a new rite of baptism, she will lay aside her Saxon name ofBertha upon all occasions while in your honourable household. This willcut short a debate which, with forgiveness, I think is scarce ofimportance enough to break the peace of this castle. I will engagethat, in gratitude for this indulgence of a trifling scruple, mydaughter, if possible, shall double the zeal and assiduity of herservice to her young lady."
The Lady of Aspramonte was glad to embrace the means which this offerpresented, of extricating herself from the dispute with as littlecompromise of dignity as could well be. "If the good Lord Bishopapproved of such a compromise," she said, "she would for herselfwithdraw her opposition." The prelate approved accordingly, the morereadily that he was informed that the young heiress desired earnestlysuch an agreement. The peace of the castle was restored, and Bertharecognized her new name of Agatha as a name of service, but not a nameof baptism.
One effect the dispute certainly produced, and that was, increasing inan enthusiastic degree the love of Bertha for her young mistress. Withthat amiable failing of attached domestics and humble friends, sheendeavoured to serve her as she knew she loved to be served; andtherefore indulged, her mistress in those chivalrous fancies whichdistinguished her even in her own age, and in ours would have renderedher a female Quixote. Bertha, indeed, never caught the frenzy of hermistress; but, strong, willing, and able-bodied, she readily qualifiedherself to act upon occasion as a squire of the body to a LadyAdventuress; and, accustomed from her childhood to see blows dealt,blood flowing, and men dying, she could look with an undazzled eye uponthe dangers which her mistress encountered, and seldom teased her withremonstrances, unless when those were unusually great. This complianceon most oc
casions, gave Bertha a right of advice upon some, which,always given with the best intentions and at fitting times,strengthened her influence with her mistress, which a course of conductsavouring of diametrical opposition would certainly have destroyed.
A few more words serve to announce the death of the Knight ofAspramonte--the romantic marriage of the young lady with the Count ofParis--their engagement in the crusade--and the detail of events withwhich the reader is acquainted.
Hereward did not exactly comprehend some of the later incidents of thestory, owing to a slight strife which arose between Bertha and himduring the course of her narrative. When she avowed the girlishsimplicity with which she obstinately refused to change her name,because, in her apprehension, the troth-plight betwixt her and herlover might be thereby prejudiced, it was impossible for Hereward notto acknowledge her tenderness, by snatching her to his bosom, andimpressing his grateful thanks upon her lips. She extricated herselfimmediately from his grasp, however, with cheeks more crimsoned inmodesty than in anger, and gravely addressed her lover thus: "Enough,enough, Hereward! this may be pardoned to so unexpected a meeting; butwe must in future remember, that we are probably the last of our race;and let it not be said, that the manners of their ancestors wereforgotten by Hereward and by Bertha; think, that though we are alone,the shades of our fathers are not far off, and watch to see what use wemake of the meeting, which, perhaps, their intercession has procuredus."
"You wrong me, Bertha," said Hereward, "if you think me capable offorgetting my own duty and yours, at a moment when our thanks are dueto Heaven, to be testified very differently than by infringing on itsbehests, or the commands of our parents. The question is now, How weshall rejoin each other when we separate? since separate, I fear, wemust."
"O! do not say so!" exclaimed the unfortunate Bertha.
"It must be so," said Hereward, "for a time; but I swear to thee by thehilt of my sword, and the handle of my battle-axe, that blade was neverso true to shaft as I will be to thee!"
"But wherefore, then, leave me, Hereward?" said the maiden; "and oh!wherefore not assist me in the release of my mistress?"
"Of thy mistress!" said Hereward. "Shame! that thou canst give thatname to mortal woman!"
"But she _is_ my mistress," answered Bertha, "and by a thousand kindties which cannot be separated so long as gratitude is the reward ofkindness."
"And what is her danger," said Hereward; "what is it she wants, thisaccomplished lady whom thou callest mistress?"
"Her honour, her life, are alike in danger," said Bertha. "She hasagreed to meet the Caesar in the field, and he will not hesitate, likea baseborn miscreant, to take every advantage in the encounter, which,I grieve to say, may in all likelihood be fatal to my mistress."
"Why dost thou think so?" answered Hereward. "This lady has won manysingle combats, unless she is belied, against adversaries moreformidable than the Caesar."
"True," said the Saxon maiden; "but you speak of things that passed ina far different land, where faith and honour are not empty sounds; as,alas! they seem but too surely to be here. Trust me, it is no girlishterror which sends me out in this disguise of my country dress, which,they say, finds respect at Constantinople: I go to let the chiefs ofthe Crusade know the peril in which the noble lady stands, and trust totheir humanity, to their religion, to their love of honour, and fear ofdisgrace, for assistance in this hour of need; and now that I have hadthe blessing of meeting with thee, all besides will go well--all willgo well--and I will back to my mistress and report whom I have seen."
"Tarry yet another moment, my recovered treasure!" said Hereward, "andlet me balance this matter carefully. This Frankish lady holds theSaxons like the very dust that thou brushest from the hem of hergarment. She treats--she regards--the Saxons as pagans and heretics.She has dared to impose slavish tasks upon thee, born in freedom. Herfather's sword has been embrued to the hilt with Anglo-Saxonblood--perhaps that of Waltheoff and Engelred has added death to thestain! She has been, besides, a presumptuous fool, usurping for herselfthe trophies and warlike character which belong to the other sex.Lastly, it will be hard to find a champion to fight in her stead, sinceall the crusaders have passed over to Asia, which is the land, theysay, in which they have come to war; and by orders of the Emperor, nomeans of return to the hither shore will be permitted to any of them."
"Alas! alas!" said Bertha, "how does this world change us! The son ofWaltheoff I once knew brave, ready to assist distress, bold andgenerous. Such was what I pictured him to myself during his absence. Ihave met him again, and he is calculating, cold, and selfish!"
"Hush, damsel," said the Varangian, "and know him of whom thouspeakest, ere thou judgest him. The Countess of Paris is such as I havesaid; yet let her appear boldly in the lists, and when the trumpetshall sound thrice, another shall reply, which shall announce thearrival of her own noble lord to do battle in her stead; or should hefail to appear--I will requite her kindness to thee, Bertha, and beready in his place."
"Wilt thou? wilt thou indeed?" said the damsel; "that was spoken likethe son of Waltheoff--like the genuine stock! I will home, and comfortmy mistress; for surely if the judgment of God ever directed the issueof a judicial combat, its influence will descend upon this. But youhint that the Count is here--that he is at liberty--she will enquireabout that."
"She must be satisfied," replied Hereward, "to know that her husband isunder the guidance of a friend, who will endeavour to protect him fromhis own extravagances and follies; or, at all events, of one who, if hecannot properly be called a friend, has certainly not acted, and willnot act, towards him the part of an enemy.--And now, farewell, longlost--long loved!"--Before he could say more, the Saxon maiden, aftertwo or three vain attempts to express her gratitude, threw herself intoher lover's arms, and despite the coyness which she had recently shown,impressed upon his lips the thanks which she could not speak.
They parted, Bertha returning to her mistress at the lodge, which shehad left both with trouble and danger, and Hereward by the portal keptby the negro-portress, who, complimenting the handsome Varangian on hissuccess among the fair, intimated, that she had been in some sort awitness of his meeting with the Saxon damsel. A piece of gold, part ofa late largesse, amply served to bribe her tongue; and the soldier,clear of the gardens of the philosopher, sped back as he might to thebarrack--judging that it was full time to carry some supply to CountRobert, who had been left without food the whole day.
It is a common popular saying, that as the sensation of hunger is notconnected with any pleasing or gentle emotion, so it is particularlyremarkable for irritating those of anger and spleen. It is not,therefore, very surprising that Count Robert, who had been so unusuallylong without sustenance, should receive Hereward with a degree ofimpatience beyond what the occasion merited, and injurious certainly tothe honest Varangian, who had repeatedly exposed his life that day forthe interest of the Countess and the Count himself.
"Soh, sir!" he said, in that accent of affected restraint by which asuperior modifies his displeasure against his inferior into a cold andscornful expression--"You have played a liberal host to us!--Not thatit is of consequence; but methinks a Count of the most Christiankingdom dines not every day with a mercenary soldier, and might expect,if not the ostentatious, at least the needful part of hospitality."
"And methinks," replied the Varangian, "O most Christian Count, thatsuch of your high rank as, by choice or fate, become the guests of suchas I, may think themselves pleased, and blame not their host'sniggardliness, but the difficulty of his circumstances, if dinnershould not present itself oftener than once in four-and-twenty hours."So saying, he clapt his hands together, and his domestic Edric entered.His guest looked astonished at the entrance of this third party intotheir retirement. "I will answer for this man," said Hereward, andaddressed him in the following words:--"What food hast thou, Edric, toplace before the honourable Count?"
"Nothing but the cold pasty," replied the attendant, "marvellouslydamaged by your honour's e
ncounter at breakfast."
The military domestic, as intimated, brought forward a large pasty, butwhich had already that morning sustained a furious attack, insomuch,that Count Robert of Paris, who, like all noble Normans, was somewhatnice and delicate in his eating, was in some doubt whether hisscrupulousness should not prevail over his hunger; but on looking moreclosely, sight, smell, and a fast of twenty hours, joined to convincehim that the pasty was an excellent one, and that the charger on whichit was presented possessed corners yet untouched. At length, havingsuppressed his scruples, and made bold inroad upon the remains of thedish, he paused to partake of a flask of strong red wine which stoodinvitingly beside him, and a lusty draught increased the good-humourwhich had begun to take place towards Hereward, in exchange for thedispleasure with which he had received him.
"Now, by heaven!" he said, "I myself ought to be ashamed to lack thecourtesy which I recommend to others! Here have I, with the manners ofa Flemish boor, been devouring the provisions of my gallant host,without even asking him to sit down at his own table, and to partake ofhis own good cheer!"
"I will not strain courtesies with you for that," said Hereward; andthrusting his hand into the pasty, he proceeded with great speed anddexterity to devour the miscellaneous contents, a handful of which wasenclosed in his grasp. The Count now withdrew from the table, partly indisgust at the rustic proceedings of Hereward, who, however, by nowcalling Edric to join him in his attack upon the pasty, showed that hehad, in fact, according to his manners, subjected himself previously tosome observance of respect towards his guest; while the assistance ofhis attendant enabled him to make a clear cacaabulum of what was left.Count Robert at length summoned up courage sufficient to put aquestion, which had been trembling upon his lips ever since Herewardhad returned.
"Have thine enquiries, my gallant friend, learned more concerning myunfortunate wife, my faithful Brenhilda?"
"Tidings I have," said the Anglo-Saxon, "but whether pleasing or not,yourself must be the judge. This much I have learned;--she hath, as youknow, come under an engagement to meet the Caesar in arms in the lists,but under conditions which you may perhaps think strange; these,however, she hath entertained without scruple."
"Let me know these terms,", said the Count of Paris; "they will, Ithink, appear less strange in my eyes than in thine."
But while he affected to speak with the utmost coolness, the husband'ssparkling eye and crimsoned cheek betrayed the alteration which hadtaken place in his feelings. "The lady and the Caesar," said Hereward,"as you partly heard yourself, are to meet in fight; if the Countesswins, of course she remains the wife of the noble Count of Paris; ifshe loses, she becomes the paramour of the Caesar Nicephorus Briennius."
"Saints and angels forbid!" said Count Robert; "were they to permitsuch treason to triumph, we might be pardoned for doubting theirdivinity!"
"Yet methinks," said the Anglo-Saxon, "it were no disgracefulprecaution that both you and I, with other friends, if we can obtainsuch, should be seen under shield in the lists on the morning of theconflict. To triumph, or to be defeated, is in the hand of fate; butwhat we cannot fail to witness is, whether or not the lady receivesthat fair play which is the due of an honourable combatant, and which,as you have yourself seen, can be sometimes basely transgressed in thisGrecian empire."
"On that condition," said the Count, "and protesting, that not even theextreme danger of my lady shall make me break through the rule of afair fight, I will surely attend the lists, if thou, brave Saxon, canstfind me any means of doing so.--Yet stay," he continued, afterreflecting for a moment, "thou shalt promise not to let her know thather Count is on the field, far less to point him out to her eye amongthe press of warriors. O, thou dost not know that the sight of thebeloved will sometimes steal from us our courage, even when it has mostto achieve!"
"We will endeavour," said the Varangian, "to arrange matters accordingto thy pleasure, so that thou findest out no more fantasticaldifficulties; for, by my word, an affair so complicated in itself,requires not to be confused by the fine-spun whims of thy nationalgallantry. Meantime, much must be done this night; and while I go aboutit, thou, Sir Knight, hadst best remain here, with such disguise ofgarments, and such food, as Edric may be able to procure for thee. Fearnothing from intrusion on the part of thy neighbours. We Varangiansrespect each other's secrets, of whatever nature they may chance to be."
