"Why should you go away?" she said, "they will come here quick enough, no doubt, and I shall have you longer with me if you stay; I do not turn sick at the sight of blood."
"O my poor Love!" And I could not go because of her praying face; surely G.o.d would grant anything to such a face as that.
"Oh!" she said, "you will let me have you yet a little longer, I see; also let me kiss your feet."
She threw herself down and kissed them, and then did not get up again at once, but lay there holding my feet.
And while she lay there, behold a sudden tramping that she did not hear, and over the green hangings the gleam of helmets that she did not see, and then one pushed aside the hangings with his spear, and there stood the armed men.
"Will not somebody weep for my darling?"
She sprang up from my feet with a low, bitter moan, most terrible to hear, she kissed me once on the lips, and then stood aside, with her dear head thrown back, and holding her lovely loose hair strained over her outspread arms, as though she were wearied of all things that had been or that might be.
Then one thrust me through the breast with a spear, and another with his sword, which was three inches broad, gave me a stroke across the thighs that hit to the bone; and as I fell forward one cleft me to the teeth with his axe.
And then I heard my darling shriek.
SVEND AND HIS BRETHREN
A king in the olden time ruled over a mighty nation: a proud man he must have been, any man who was king of that nation: hundreds of lords, each a prince over many people, sat about him in the council chamber, under the dim vault, that was blue like the vault of heaven, and shone with innumerable glistenings of golden stars.
North, south, east, and west spread that land of his, the sea did not stop it; his empire clomb the high mountains, and spread abroad its arms over the valleys of them; all along the sea-line sh.o.r.e cities set with their crowns of towers in the midst of broad bays, each fit, it seemed, to be a harbour for the navies of all the world.
Inland the pastures and cornlands lay, chequered much with climbing, over- tumbling grape vines, under the sun that crumbled their clods, and drew up the young wheat in the spring-time, under the rain that made the long gra.s.s soft and fine, under all fair fertilising influences: the streams leapt down from the mountain tops, or cleft their way through the ridged ravines; they grew great rivers, like seas each one.
The mountains were cloven, and gave forth from their scarred sides wealth of ore and splendour of marble; all things this people that King Valdemar ruled over could do; they levelled mountains, that over the smooth roads the wains might go, laden with silk and spices from the sea: they drained lakes, that the land might yield more and more, as year by year the serfs, driven like cattle, but worse fed, worse housed, died slowly, scarce knowing that they had souls; they builded them huge ships, and said that they were masters of the sea too; only, I trow the sea was an unruly subject, and often sent them back their ships cut into more pieces than the pines of them were, when the adze first fell upon them; they raised towers, and bridges, and marble palaces with endless corridors rose-scented, and cooled with welling fountains.
They sent great armies and fleets to all the points of heaven that the wind blows from, who took and burned many happy cities, wasted many fields and valleys, blotted out from the memory of men the names of nations, made their men"s lives a hopeless shame and misery to them, their women"s lives disgrace, and then came home to have flowers thrown on them in showers, to be feasted and called heroes.
Should not then their king be proud of them? Moreover they could fashion stone and bra.s.s into the shapes of men; they could write books; they knew the names of the stars, and their number; they knew what moved the pa.s.sions of men in the hearts of them, and could draw you up cunningly, catalogues of virtues and vices; their wise men could prove to you that any lie was true, that any truth was false, till your head grew dizzy, and your heart sick, and you almost doubted if there were a G.o.d.
Should not then their king be proud of them? Their men were strong in body, and moved about gracefully--like dancers; and the purple-black, scented hair of their gold-clothed knights seemed to shoot out rays under the blaze of light that shone like many suns in the king"s halls. Their women"s faces were very fair in red and white, their skins fair and half- transparent like the marble of their mountains, and their voices sounded like the rising of soft music from step to step of their own white palaces.
Should not then their king be proud of such a people, who seemed to help so in carrying on the world to its consummate perfection, which they even hoped their grandchildren would see?
Alas! alas! they were slaves--king and priest, n.o.ble and burgher, just as much as the meanest tasked serf, perhaps more even than he, for they were so willingly, but he unwillingly enough.
They could do everything but justice, and truth, and mercy; therefore G.o.d"s judgments hung over their heads, not fallen yet, but surely to fall one time or other.
For ages past they had warred against one people only, whom they could not utterly subdue; a feeble people in numbers, dwelling in the very midst of them, among the mountains; yet now they were pressing them close; acre after acre, with seas of blood to purchase each acre, had been wrested from the free people, and their end seemed drawing near; and this time the king, Valdemar, had marched to their land with a great army, to make war on them, he boasted to himself, almost for the last time.
A walled town in the free land; in that town, a house built of rough, splintery stones; and in a great low-browed room of that house, a grey- haired man pacing to and fro impatiently: "Will she never come?" he says, "it is two hours since the sun set; news, too, of the enemy"s being in the land; how dreadful if she is taken!" His great broad face is marked with many furrows made by the fierce restless energy of the man; but there is a wearied look on it, the look of a man who, having done his best, is yet beaten; he seemed to long to be gone and be at peace: he, the fighter in many battles, who often had seemed with his single arm to roll back the whole tide of fight, felt despairing enough now; this last invasion, he thought, must surely quite settle the matter; wave after wave, wave after wave, had broken on that dear land and been rolled back from it, and still the hungry sea pressed on; they must be finally drowned in that sea; how fearfully they had been tried for their sins.
Back again to his anxiety concerning Cissela, his daughter, go his thoughts, and he still paces up and down wearily, stopping now and then to gaze intently on things which he has seen a hundred times; and the night has altogether come on.
At last the blast of a horn from outside, challenge and counter-challenge, and the wicket to the court-yard is swung open; for this house, being in a part of the city where the walls are somewhat weak, is a little fortress in itself, and is very carefully guarded. The old man"s face brightened at the sound of the new comers, and he went toward the entrance of the house where he was met by two young knights fully armed, and a maiden. "Thank G.o.d you are come," he says; but stops when he sees her face, which is quite pale, almost wild with some sorrow.
"The saints! Cissela, what is it?" he says. "Father, Eric will tell you." Then suddenly a clang, for Eric has thrown on the ground a richly- jewelled sword, sheathed, and sets his foot on it, crunching the pearls on the sheath; then says, flinging up his head,--"There, father, the enemy is in the land; may that happen to every one of them! but for my part I have accounted for two already." "Son Eric, son Eric, you talk for ever about yourself; quick, tell me about Cissela instead: if you go on boasting and talking always about yourself, you will come to no good end, son, after all." But as he says this, he smiles nevertheless, and his eye glistens.
"Well, father, listen--such a strange thing she tells us, not to be believed, if she did not tell us herself; the enemy has suddenly got generous, one of them at least, which is something of a disappointment to me--ah! pardon, about my self again; and that is about myself too. Well, father, what am I to do?--But Cissela, she wandered some way from her maidens, when--ah! but I never could tell a story properly, let her tell it herself; here, Cissela!--well, well, I see she is better employed, talking namely, how should I know what! with Siur in the window-seat yonder--but she told us that, as she wandered almost by herself, she presently heard shouts and saw many of the enemy"s knights riding quickly towards her; whereat she knelt only and prayed to G.o.d, who was very gracious to her; for when, as she thought, something dreadful was about to happen, the chief of the knights (a very n.o.ble-looking man, she said) rescued her, and, after he had gazed earnestly into her face, told her she might go back again to her own home, and her maids with her, if only she would tell him where she dwelt and her name; and withal he sent three knights to escort her some way toward the city; then he turned and rode away with all his knights but those three, who, when they knew that he had quite gone, she says, began to talk horribly, saying things whereof in her terror she understood the import only: then, before worse came to pa.s.s came I and slew two, as I said, and the other ran away "l.u.s.tily with a good courage"; and that is the sword of one of the slain knights, or, as one might rather call them, rascally caitiffs."
The old man"s thoughts seemed to have gone wandering after his son had finished; for he said nothing for some time, but at last spoke dejectedly:
"Eric, brave son, when I was your age I too hoped, and my hopes are come to this at last; you are blind in your hopeful youth, Eric, and do not see that this king (for the king it certainly was) will crush us, and not the less surely because he is plainly not ungenerous, but rather a good, courteous knight. Alas! poor old Gunnar, broken down now and ready to die, as your country is! How often, in the olden time, thou used"st to say to thyself, as thou didst ride at the head of our glorious house, "this charge may finish this matter, this battle must." They pa.s.sed away, those gallant fights, and still the foe pressed on, and hope, too, slowly ebbed away, as the boundaries of our land grew less and less: behold this is the last wave but one or two, and then for a sad farewell to name and freedom. Yet, surely the end of the world must come when we are swept off the face of the earth. G.o.d waits long, they say, before He avenges his own."
As he was speaking, Siur and Cissela came nearer to him, and Cissela, all traces of her late terror gone from her face now, raising her lips to his bended forehead, kissed him fondly, and said, with glowing face,
"Father, how can I help our people? Do they want deaths? I will die. Do they want happiness? I will live miserably through years and years, nor ever pray for death."
Some hope or other seemed growing up in his heart, and showing through his face; and he spoke again, putting back the hair from off her face, and clasping it about with both his hands, while he stooped to kiss her.
"G.o.d remember your mother, Cissela! Then it was no dream after all, but true perhaps, as indeed it seemed at the time; but it must come quickly, that woman"s deliverance, or not at all. When was it that I heard that old tale, that sounded even then true to my ears? for we have not been punished for nought, my son; that is not G.o.d"s way. It comes across my memory somehow, mingled in a wonderful manner with the purple of the pines on the hillside, with the fragrance of them borne from far towards me; for know, my children, that in times past, long, long past now, we did an evil deed, for our forefathers, who have been dead now, and forgiven so long ago, once mad with rage at some defeat from their enemies, fired a church, and burned therein many women who had fled thither for refuge; and from that time a curse cleaves to us. Only they say, that at the last we may be saved from utter destruction by a woman; I know not. G.o.d grant it may be so."
Then she said, "Father, brother, and you, Siur, come with me to the chapel; I wish you to witness me make an oath."
Her face was pale, her lips were pale, her golden hair was pale; but not pale, it seemed, from any sinking of blood, but from gathering of intensest light from somewhere, her eyes perhaps, for they appeared to burn inwardly.
They followed the sweeping of her purple robe in silence through the low heavy-beamed pa.s.sages: they entered the little chapel, dimly lighted by the moon that night, as it shone through one of the three arrow-slits of windows at the east end. There was little wealth of marble there, I trow; little time had those fighting men for stone-smoothing. Albeit, one noted many semblances of flowers even in the dim half-light, and here and there the faces of BRAVE men, roughly cut enough, but grand, because the hand of the carver had followed his loving heart. Neither was there gold wanting to the altar and its canopy; and above the low pillars of the nave hung banners, taken from the foe by the men of that house, gallant with gold and jewels.
She walked up to the altar and took the blessed book of the Gospels from the left side of it, then knelt in prayer for a moment or two, while the three men stood behind her reverently. When she rose she made a sign to them, and from their scabbards gleamed three swords in the moonlight; then, while they held them aloft, and pointed toward the altar, she opened the book at the page whereon was painted Christ the Lord dying on the cross, pale against the gleaming gold: she said, in a firm voice, "Christ G.o.d, who diedst for all men, so help me, as I refuse not life, happiness, even honour, for this people whom I love."
Then she kissed the face so pale against the gold, and knelt again.
But when she had risen, and before she could leave the s.p.a.ce by the altar, Siur had stepped up to her, and seized her hurriedly, folding both his arms about her; she let herself be held there, her bosom against his; then he held her away from him a little s.p.a.ce, holding her by the arms near the shoulder; then he took her hands and laid them across his shoulders, so that now she held him.
And they said nothing; what could they say? Do you know any word for what they meant?
And the father and brother stood by, looking quite awe-struck, more so they seemed than by her solemn oath. Till Siur, raising his head from where it lay, cried out aloud:
"May G.o.d forgive me as I am true to her! hear you, father and brother?"
Then said Cissela: "May G.o.d help me in my need, as I am true to Siur."
And the others went, and they two were left standing there alone, with no little awe over them, strange and shy as they had never yet been to each other. Cissela shuddered, and said in a quick whisper: "Siur, on your knees! and pray that these oaths may never clash."
"Can they, Cissela?" he said.
"O love," she cried, "you have loosed my hand; take it again, or I shall die, Siur!"
He took both her hands, he held them fast to his lips, to his forehead; he said: "No, G.o.d does not allow such things: truth does not lie; you are truth; this need not be prayed for."
She said: "Oh, forgive me! yet--yet this old chapel is damp and cold even in the burning summer weather. O knight Siur, something strikes through me; I pray you kneel and pray."
He looked steadily at her for a long time without answering, as if he were trying once for all to become indeed one with her; then said: "Yes, it is possible; in no other way could you give up everything."
Then he took from off his finger a thin golden ring, and broke it in two, and gave her the one half, saying: "When will they come together?"