CURAN THE PORTER.
There is no need for me to say how my arms came to me from Grimsby, and
how I went to Eglaf as I had promised. I will only say that the life
was pleasant enough, if idle, as a housecarl, and that I saw Havelok
every day at one time or another, which was all that I could wish.
But as I had to wait a day or two while the messenger went and the arms
came from home, I saw Havelok meet the steward on the next day: and a
quaint meeting enough it was, for Berthun hardly knew how he should
behave to this man, whom he had made up his mind was a wandering
prince.
There was the crowd who waited for the call for porters, as ever; hut
the steward would have none of them, until he saw his new man towering
over the rest, and then he half made a motion to unbonnet, which he
checked and turned into a beckoning wave of the hand, whereon the
idlers made their rush for him, and Havelok walked through and over
them, more or less, as they would not make way for him. But so
good-naturedly was this done, that even those whom he lifted from his
path and dropped on one side laughed when they saw who had cleared a
way for himself, and stood gaping to see what came next.
“Ho—why, yes—Curan—that was the name certainly. I have been looking for
you, as we said,” stammered the steward.
“Here am I, therefore,” answered Havelok, “and where is the load?”
“Truth to tell, I have bought but this at present,” said the steward,
pointing to a small basket of green stuff on the stall at which he
stood.
“Well, I suppose there is more to come,” Havelok said, taking it up;
“it will be a beginning.”
“I will not ask you to carry more than that,” Berthun began.
“Why, man, this is foolishness. If you have a porter, make him carry
all he can, else he will not earn his keep.”
“As you will,” answered the steward, shrugging his shoulders as one who
cannot account for some folk’s whims, and going on to the next booth.
Now, I suppose that the idlers looked to see Havelok walk away with
this light load gladly, as any one of them would have done, and that
then their turn would have come; but this was not what they expected.
Maybe they would have liked to see the strong man sweep up all the
palace marketing and carry it, as a show, but it might interfere with
their own gains. So there was a murmur or two among them, and this grew
when Havelok took the next burden in like manner.
“Ho, master cook,” cried a ragged man at last, “this is not the custom,
and it is not fair that one man should do all the work, and all for one
wage.”
Berthun took no notice of this; and so the cry was repeated, and that
by more than one. And at last he turned round and answered.
“Go to, ye knaves,” he said with a red face and angrily; “if I find a
man who will save me the trouble of your wrangles every day, shall I
not do as I please?”
Then there was a tumult of voices, and some of them seemed sad, as if a
last hope was gone, and that Havelok heard.
“There is somewhat in this,” he said to the cook. “What pay have you
given to each man who carries for you?”
“A yesterday’s loaf each,” answered Berthun, wondering plainly that
Havelok paid any heed to the noise.
“Well, then, let us go on, and we will think of somewhat,” Havelok
said; and then he turned to the people, who were silent at once.
“I am a newcomer, and a hungry one,” he said, smiling quietly, “and I
have a mind to earn my loaf well. Hinder me not for today, and
hereafter I will take my chance with the rest, if need is.”
Thereat the folk began to laugh also, for it was plain that none had
any chance at all if he chose to put forth his strength; but an old man
said loudly, “Let the good youth alone now, and he shall talk with us
when he has done his errand and fed that great bulk of his. He has an
honest face, and will be fair to all.”
That seemed to please the crowd; and after that they said no more, but
followed and watched the gathering up of Havelok’s mighty burden. And
presently there was more than he could manage; and he spoke to Berthun,
who checked himself in a half bow as he answered.
Then Havelok looked over the faces before him, and beckoned to two men
who seemed weakly and could not press forward, and to them he gave the
lighter wares, and so left the market with his master, as one must call
the steward.
“What told I you?” said the old man, as they came back from the great
gate. “Never saw I one with a face like that who harmed any man, either
in word or deed.”
Now when Havelok had set down his load in the kitchen, he straightened
himself and said to Berthun, who was, as one may say, waiting his
pleasure.
“This is today’s task; but it is in my mind that I would stay up here
and work.”
“What would you do?”
“There are men yonder who will miss the carrying if I am market porter
always. But here are things I can earn my keep at, and help the other
servants with at the same time. Water drawing there is, and carrying of
logs for the fire, and cleaving them also, and many other things that
will be but hardening my muscles, while they are over heavy to be
pleasant for other folk.”
“Well,” answered Berthun, “that is all I could wish, and welcome to
some here will you be. Let it be so.”
“Now, I do not think that you would make a gain by my work this
morning?”
“Truly not, if any one is wronged by my doing so,” the puzzled steward
said.
Then Havelok asked how many men would have been needed to carry up the
goods that he had brought, and Berthun said that he was wont to send
one at least from each stall, and more if the burden was heavy.
“Then today four poor knaves must go dinnerless by reason of my
strength, and that does not please me altogether,” said Havelok
gravely. “Give these two their loaves; and then, I pray you, give me
the other four, and let me go back to the market.”
And then he added, with a smile, “I think that I can order matters
there so that things will be more fair, and that you will have less
trouble with that unmannerly scramble.”
“If you can do that, you are even as your name calls you. Take them and
welcome, Curan, and then come here and do what work you will,” Berthun
said in haste.
“Tasks you must set me, or I shall grow idle. That is the failing of
over-big men,” Havelok said; and he took the loaves and left the palace
with the two market men at his heels.
I saw him come back, and at once the crowd of idlers made for him, but
in a respectful way enough. I knew, however, how easily these folks
took to throwing mud and stones in their own quarrels, and I was a
little anxious, for to interfere with the ways of the market is a high
offence among them.
But Havelok knew naught of that, and went his way with his loaves to
the bridge end, and there sat on the rail and looked at the men before
him. And _lo!_ back to my mind came old days in Denmark, and how I once
saw Gunnar the king sitting in open court to do justice, and then I
knew for certain that I was looking on his son. And when Havelok spoke
it was in the voice of Gunnar that I had long forgotten, but which came
back to me clear and plain, as if it were yesterday that I had heard
it. Never does a boy forget his first sight of the king.
“Friends,” said Havelok, “if I do two men’s work I get two men’s pay,
or else I might want to know the reason why. But I am only one man, all
the same, and it seems right to me that none should be the loser.
Wherefore I have a mind to share my pay fairly.”
There was a sort of shout at that and Havelok set his four loaves in a
row on the rail beside him. But then some of the rougher men went to
make a rush at them, and he took the foremost two and shook them, so
that others laughed and bade the rest beware.
“So that is just where the trouble comes in,” said Havelok coolly; “the
strong get the first chance, as I did this morning, by reason of there
being none to see fair play.”
“Bide in the market, master, and we will make you judge among us,”
cried a small man from the edge of the crowd.
“Fair and softly,” Havelok answered. “I am not going to bide here
longer than I can help. Come hither, grandfer,” and he beckoned to the
old man who had bidden them wait his return, “tell me the names of the
men who have been longest without any work.”
The old man pointed out three, and then Havelok stopped him.
“One of these loaves is my own wage,” he said; “but you three shall
have the others, and that will be the easiest day’s work you ever did.
But think not that I am going to do the like every day, for Lincoln
hill is no easy climb, and the loaf is well earned at the top.
Moreover, it is not good to encourage the idle by working for them.”
So the three men had their loaves, and Havelok began to eat his own
slowly, swinging his legs on the bridge rail while the men watched him.
“Master,” said the small man from behind, pushing forward a little, now
that the crowd was looser, “make a law for the market, I pray you, that
all may have a chance.”
“Who am I to make laws?” said my brother slowly, and, as he said this,
his hand went up to his brows as it had gone last night when the palace
had wearied him.
“The strong make laws for the weak,” the old man said to him in a low
voice. “If the strong is honest, for the weak it is well. Things are
hard for the weak here; and therefore say somewhat, for it may be of
use.”
“It can be none, unless the strong is at hand to see that the law is
kept.”
“Sometimes the market will see that a rule is not broken, for itself.
There is no rule for this matter.”
Again Havelok passed his hand over his eyes, and he was long in
answering. The loaf lay at his side now. Presently he looked straight
before him, and, as if he saw far beyond Lincoln Hill and away to the
north, he said, “This is my will, therefore, that from this time
forward it shall be the law that men shall have one among them who may
fairly and without favour so order this matter that all shall come to
Berthun the steward in turns that shall be kept, and so also with the
carrying for any other man. There shall be a company of porters,
therefore, which a man must join before he shall do this work, save
that every stranger who comes shall be suffered to take a burden once,
and then shall be told of this company, and the custom that is to be.
And I will that this old man shall see to this matter.”
And then he stopped suddenly, and seemed to start as a great shout went
up from the men, a shout as of praise; and his eyes looked again on
them, and that wonderingly.
“They will keep this law,” said the old man. “Well have you spoken.”
“I have said a lot of foolishness, maybe,” answered Havelok. “For the
life of me I could not say it again.”
“There is not one of us that could not do so,” said his adviser. “But
bide you here, master, in the town?”
“I am in service at the palace.”
Then the old man turned round to the others and said, “This is good
that we have heard, and it is nothing fresh, for all trades have their
companies, and why should not we? Is this stranger’s word to be kept?”
Maybe there were one or two of the rougher men who held their peace,
for they had had more than their share of work, but from the rest came
a shout of “Ay!” as it were at the Witan.
“Well, then,” said Havelok suddenly, getting down from his seat and
giving his loaf to the old man, “see you to it; and if any give trouble
hereafter, I shall hear from the cook, and, by Odin, I will even come
down and knock their heads together for them. So farewell.”
He smiled round pleasantly, yet in that way which has a meaning at the
back of it; and at that every cap went off and the men did him
reverence as to a thane at least, and he nodded to them and came across
to me.
“Come out into the fields, brother, for I shall weep if I bide here
longer.”
So he said; and we went away quickly, while the men gathered round the
old leader who was to be, and talked earnestly.
“This famine plays strange tricks with me,” he said when we were away
from every one. “Did you hear all that I said?”
“I heard all, and you have spoken the best thing that could have been
said. Eight years have I been to this market, and a porters’ guild is
just what is needed. And it will come about now.”
“It was more dreaming, and so I must be a wise man in my dream. Even as
in the palace yesterday it came on me, and I seemed to be at the gate
of a great hall, and it was someone else that was speaking, and yet
myself. It is in my mind that I told these knaves what my lordly will
was, forsooth; and the words came to me in our old Danish tongue, so
that it was hard not to use it. But it seems to me that long ago I did
these things, or saw them, I know not which, somewhere. Tell me, did
the king live in our town across the sea?”
“No, but in another some way off. My father took me there once or
twice.”
“Can you mind that he took me also?”
I shook my head, and longed for Withelm. Surely I would send for him,
or for Arngeir, if this went on. Arngeir for choice, for I could tell
him what I thought; and that would only puzzle Withelm, who knew less
than I.
“We will ask Arngeir some day,” I said; “he can remember.”
“I suppose he did take me,” mused Havelok; “and I suppose that I want
more sleep or more food or somewhat. Now we will go and tell the old
dame of my luck, for she has lost her lodger.”
Then he told me of his fortune with the steward.
“Half afraid of me he seems, for he will have me do just what I will.
That will be no hard place therefore.”
But I thought that if I knew anything of Havelok my brother, he would
be likely to make it hard by doing every one’s work for him, and that
Berthun saw this; or else that, as I had thought last night, the shrewd
courtier saw the prince behind the fisher’s garb.
So we parted presently at the gate of the palace wall, and I went back
to the widow to wait for my arms, while he went to his master. And I
may as well tell the end of Havelok’s lawmaking.
Berthun went down to the market next day, and came back with a wonder
to be told. And it was to Havelok that he went first to tell it, as he
was drawing bucket after bucket of water from the deep old Roman well
in the courtyard to fill the great tub which he considered a fair load
to carry at once.
“There is something strange happening in the market,” he said, “and I
think that you have a hand in it. The decency of the place is
wonderful, and you said that you thought I might have less trouble with
the men than I was wont if you went down with the loaves. What did you?
For I went to the baker’s stalls and bought, and looked round for the
tail that is after me always; and I was alone, and all the market folk
were agape to see what was to be done. I thought that I had offended
the market by yesterday’s business, as they had called out on me, and I
thought that I should have to come and fetch your—that is, if it
pleased you. But first I called, as is my wont, for porters. Now all
that rabble sat in a row along a wall, and, by Baldur, when I looked,
they had cleaned themselves! Whereupon an old gaffer, who has carried
things once or twice for me when there has been no crowd and he has
been able to come forward, lifted up his voice and asked how many men I
wanted, so please me.
“‘Two,’I said, wondering, and at that two got up and came to me, and I
sent them off. It was the same at the next booth, and the next, for he
told off men as I wanted them; and here am I back a full half-hour
earlier than ever before, and no mud splashes from the crowd either. It
is said that they have made a porters’ guild; and who has put that
sense into their heads unless your—that is, unless you have done so, I
cannot say.”
Havelok laughed.
“Well, I did tell them that they should take turns, or somewhat like
that; and I also told them that if you complained of them I would see
to it.”
“Did you say that you would pay them, may I ask—that is, of course, if
they were orderly? For if so, I thank—”
“I told them that if you complained I would knock their heads
together,” said Havelok.
And that was the beginning of the Lincoln porters’ guild; and in after
days Havelok was wont to say that he would that all lawmaking was as
easy as that first trial of his. Certainly from that day forward there
was no man in all the market who would not have done aught for my
brother, and many a dispute was he called on to settle. It is not
always that a law, however good it may be, finds not a single one to
set himself against it. But then Havelok was a strong man.
Now there is naught to tell of either Havelok or myself for a little
while, for we went on in our new places comfortably enough. One heard
much of Havelok, though, for word of him and his strength and
goodliness, and of his kindness moreover, went through the town, with
tales of what he had done. But I never heard that any dared to ask him
to make a show of himself by doing feats of strength. Only when he came
down to the guardroom sometimes with me would he take part in the
weapon play that he loved, and the housecarls, who were all tried and
good warriors, said that he was their master in the use of every
weapon, and it puzzled them to know where he had learned so well, for
he yet wore his fisher’s garb. They sent his arms with mine from
Grimsby, thinking that he also needed them; but he left them with the
widow.
Havelok used to laugh if they asked him this, and tell them that it
came by nature, and in that saying there was more than a little truth.
So the housecarls, when they heard how Berthun was wont to treat him,
thought also that he was some great man in hiding, and that the steward
knew who he was. They did not know but that my close friendship with
him had sprung up since he came, and that was well, and Eglaf and he
and I were soon much together. The captain wanted him to leave the cook
and be one of his men, but we thought that he had better bide where he
was, rather than let Alsi the king have him always about him. For now
and then that strange feeling, as of the old days, came over him when
he was in the great hall, and he had to go away and brood over it for a
while until he would set himself some mighty task and forget it.
But one day he came to me and said that he was sure he knew the ways of
a king too well for it all to be a dream, adding that Berthun saw that
also, and was curious about him.
“Tell me, brother, whence came I? _Was_ I truly brought up in a court?”
“I have never heard,” I answered. “All that I know for certain is that
you fled with us from Hodulf, the new king, and that for reasons which
my father never told me.”
Then said Havelok, “There was naught worth telling, therefore. I
suppose I was the child of some steward like Berthun; but yet—”
So he went away, and I wondered long if it were not time that Arngeir
should tell all that he knew. It was of no good for me to say that in
voice and ways and deed he had brought back to me the Gunnar whom I had
not seen for so many long years, for that was as likely as not to be a
fancy of mine, or if not a fancy, he might be only a sister’s son or
the like. But in all that he said there was no word of his mother, and
by that I knew that his remembrance must be but a shadow, if a growing
one.
But there was no head in all the wide street that was not turned to
look after him; and now he went his way from me with two children, whom
he had caught up from somewhere, perched on either shoulder, and
another in his arms, and they crowed with delight as he made believe to
be some giant who was to eat them forthwith, and ran up the hill with
them. No such playmate had the Lincoln children before Havelok came.