THE FORTUNE OF CURAN THE PORTER.
While the nurse told Withelm to fetch the priest when Alsi was in the
hall that evening, the housecarl came for Havelok; and much wondering,
he followed the man to the king, and presently stood before him and
saluted.
“Where did you get that salute?” said Alsi sharply, seeing at once that
it was not English; and, indeed, it was that of Gunnar’s courtmen.
“I cannot tell,” answered my brother. “It seems to be there when
needed.”
“Well, it is not that used here. Get the housecarls to teach you better
manners.”
Then Havelok bowed a little, in token that he would do so; and when
Alsi spoke to him next it was in Welsh.
“You are a marshman, as I hear?”
Now Havelok had learned fairly well from the poor folk who loved him,
but carelessly, so that when he answered Alsi frowned at his way of
speaking.
“I am from the marsh,” he said simply.
“We had better get back to English!” the king said; “you people forget
your own tongue. Now, are you married?”
Thereat Havelok laughed lightly.
“That I am not,” he answered.
“Well, then, if I find you a fair wife, you would be willing,
doubtless?”
“That I should not,” answered Havelok bluntly, and wondering what this
crafty-looking king was driving at. “What could I do with a wife? For I
have neither house nor goods, nor where to take her, nor withal to keep
her; else had I not been the cook’s knave.”
“It would seem that you carry all your fortune on your back,
therefore,” said Alsi, looking at Havelok’s gay attire with somewhat of
a sneer.
“That may well be, King Alsi, for even these clothes are not my own.
Berthun gave them me, and I think that they come from yourself.”
Alsi grinned, for Eglaf’s saying of him was not so far wrong; but he
had more serious business on hand than to talk of these things with a
churl.
“Now, if I bid you, it is your part to obey. I have a wife for you, and
her you shall wed.”
“There are two words to that, King Alsi. Neither will I wed against my
will, nor will I wed one who is unwilling.”
“As to that first,” said the king, for he began to be angered with
Havelok’s boldness, “if a man will not do my bidding, I have dungeons
where he can have time to think things over, and men who can keep him
there, be he never so mighty; and if a man will not see with my eyes
when I bid him, blinded shall he be.”
This he said somewhat hurriedly, for a dark flush came on the face of
the man before him, and he thought that he must try some other plan
than force with him.
“And as for that other point, I did not so much as hint that the bride
was likely to be unwilling. I will say that she is willing, rather.”
Now that troubled Havelok, for it seemed that all was arranged already,
and the thought of the dungeon was not pleasant. There was no doubt
that if the king chose he could cast him into one until he was
forgotten; and the light and the breath of the wind from the sea were
very dear to Havelok. So he thought that he would at least gain time by
seeming to listen to the proposal; for, after all, it might come to
nothing, and maybe it was but a jest, though a strange one.
“Well, lord king,” he said, “if the bride knows enough of me to be
willing, it is but fair that I should have the like chance of choice.”
Now Alsi thought that it was impossible that this churl, as he deemed
him, would not be overjoyed to hear of the match he had made for him,
and he must needs know it soon. Yet there was that about Havelok that
puzzled him, for his ways were not those of a churl, and he spoke as a
freeman should speak.
So much the more likely that the people would believe him when he said
that Goldberga wedded him of her own wish, he thought. It was as well
that he was not altogether a common-seeming man.
“You have seen the damsel already,” he said therefore. “Now I will not
say that this match is altogether of my choosing; but I have an oath to
keep, and it seems that I can only keep it by making you her husband.
But, as I say, she is willing, and, I will add, well dowered.”
Now it grew plain to my brother that there was something strange in all
this, so he said, “An oath is a thing that must not be hindered in the
fulfilling, if a man can further it. But what has a king’s oath to do
with me?”
“I have sworn to find her the goodliest and mightiest man alive; and,
though I must needs say it to your face, there is none like yourself.
No flattery this to bend you to my will, but sober truth—at least, as I
see it.”
At that Havelok grew impatient.
“Well, if that be so, who is the bride?” he asked, not caring to give
the king his title, or forgetting to do so, for on him was coming the
feeling that he was this man’s equal here in the palace. And at last,
not seeming to notice this, Alsi answered plainly.
“The Princess Goldberga.”
Then Havelok stared at him in blank wonder for some moments; and Alsi
grew red under his gaze, and his eyes were shifty, and would not meet
the honest look that was on him.
Then at last said Havelok slowly, and watching the king intently all
the while, “What this means I cannot tell. If you speak truth, it is
wonderful; and if not, it is unkingly.”
“On my word as a king, truth it is,” said Alsi hastily, for there was
that in Havelok’s face that he did not like.
One might think that the king was growing afraid of his own kitchen
knave.
“If that is so, there is no more to be said,” answered Havelok. “Yet
you will forgive me if I say that I must have this from the lips of the
princess herself as well. It may be that her mind will change.”
“That is but fair,” answered Alsi; “and you are a wise man. The mind of
a damsel is unsteady, whether she be princess or milkmaid; but have no
fear.”
“No man fear I; but I do fear to hurt any lady, and I would not do
that.”
Then Alsi thought that all was well, and he spoke smooth words to my
brother, so that Havelok doubted him more than ever. Therefore it came
into his mind that all he could do for the best was to seem to agree,
and wait for what the princess herself said. And if Alsi was working
some subtlety, then he would wring his neck for him, if need be; and
after that—well, the housecarls would cut him in pieces, and he would
slay some of them, and so go to Valhalla, and dreams would be at an
end. And he would have died to some purpose here, for he knew that
Goldberga would come to her kingdom, ay, and maybe Alsi’s as well, for
she was his sister’s daughter, and his next of kin, and well loved by
those who had been allowed to know aught of her.
But I would not have any think that the promise of so wondrous a bride
was not pleasing to him. It was more, for he had seen her grow white
and troubled as she looked on him, and he had seen her bear well
whatever pain had caused that; and he had known that in the one sight
he had of Goldberga somewhat had taught him what it was to have one
face unforgotten in his mind.
So he said to Alsi, “All this fortune that you hold out to me is most
unlooked for, seeing what I am in your hall; and I have not thanked you
yet, King Alsi. That, however, is hard to do, as you may understand.”
“I understand well enough,” answered the king, in high good humour
again, now that all seemed to be going well. “And after all, it is the
lady whom you must thank.”
“But when shall I see her to do so?”
“Tomorrow, surely; ay, tomorrow early shall you speak with her,”
answered the king quickly. “Now go, and hold your peace. Let me warn
you that there are those about the court who would go any lengths to
remove you from the face of the earth if they knew of this. Tell no man
of the honour that has come to you as yet. Be the porter for a short
time longer, and then you will be the man whom all envy. It is likely
that I must make you a thane, by right of the choice of the princess.”
“I know well when to speak and when to keep silence, lord king,” said
my brother, and with that he bowed and left the hall.
Then Alsi put his lips to a silver whistle that he carried, and blew a
call that brought Eglaf hurriedly to him from the outer door.
“The guards may go,” said the king; “but see that the porter Curan
leaves not the palace until I myself send him forth tomorrow.”
The captain saluted and went his way. He had had six men within call of
the king all the time that he spoke with Havelok, and one may make what
one likes of that. At least the threat of the dungeon was no idle one.
Now went Havelok from the hall very heavy and troubled, for beyond the
fair talk of the king lurked surely some plan that was not fair at all.
It was not to be thought that he could not prevent, if he chose, a
foolish marriage of the princess, even did she desire it ever so much.
And my brother could not believe that she had set her heart on one whom
she had but seen once, and then in the midst of faintness. That,
however, might be known easily when he was face to face with her. It
was a thing that could not be made a matter of pretence.
Now when he came back to the great kitchen, which was nigh as big as
the hall, Withelm was yet there, for the priest was at the widow’s, and
there was no haste to bring him; and by that time I had come in also,
and was sitting with him at the far end, where none had need to come.
It was Berthun’s own end, as one might say, and he was lord in his own
place. Only a few thralls were about, and the cook himself had gone
into the town.
“Here is our brother,” I said, “and there is somewhat wrong.”
He came moodily up to us, and sat him down, saying nothing, and he
leaned his head on his hands for a while.
“What is amiss, brother?” said Withelm.
“Wait,” he answered. “I will think before I speak.”
I could see that this was not the old puzzlement, but something new and
heavy, so we held our peace. Long was he before he moved or spoke, and
when he did so it was wearily.
“Well knew I that somewhat was to happen to me in this town, even as I
told you, brother, when we first passed its gates. And now it seems to
be coming to pass. For this is what is on me, as it seems to me—either
that I must see the light of day no more, or must live to be a scorn
and sorrow to one for whom it were meet that a man should die.”
“Surely the black dream is on you, my brother! Neither of these things
can be for you!” I cried.
“Would that it were the dream, for that is not all of sorrow, and that
also is of things so long past that they are forgotten. I can bear
that, for your voice always drives it away. But now the hand of Alsi
the king is on me for some ill of his own—”
“Stay,” said Withelm. “Let us go out and speak, if that name is to be
heard. It were safer.”
“Less safe, brother,” answered Havelok. “At once we should be kept
apart. Listen, and I will tell you all, and then say your say.”
Then he told us, word for word, all that had just passed between him
and the king. And as we listened, it grew on us that here was no wrong
to the princess, but rather the beginning of honour. I could see the
downfall that was in store for Alsi, and I thought also that I saw hope
for the winning back of the Danish kingdom, with an East Anglian host
to back us. And this also saw Withelm, and his eyes sparkled. But
Havelok knew not yet all that had grown so plain to us.
He ended, and we said nothing for a moment.
“Well?” he said, not looking up, but with eyes that sought the floor,
as if ashamed.
“By Odin,” said I, speaking the thought that was uppermost, “here will
be a downfall for Alsi!”
“Ay, you are right, brother. I will not wed her.”
But that was by no means what I meant, as may be known; and now Withelm
held up a warning hand to me, and I knew that his advice was always
best.
“If the maiden is unwilling, wed her not,” he said. “If she is willing,
even as the king said, that is another matter. We have no reason to
doubt his word as yet.”
“You saw not his face as he spoke. And then, how should the princess
think of me?”
“Who knows? Even Odin owned that the minds of maids were hard to
fathom. But one may find a reason or two. Maybe that oath has somewhat
to do with it. A good daughter will go far to carry out her father’s
will, and, in the plain sense thereof, she will certainly do it thus.
Then it is likely that she knows that you are no churl, but the son of
Grim, though we have fallen on hard times for a while. I have heard say
that it is the custom here that a man who has crossed the seas in his
own ship so many times is a thane by right of that hardihood. Thane’s
son, therefore, might we call you. Then there is the jealousy of every
other thane, if she chooses an East Anglian. Then she needs one who
shall be mighty to lead her forces. Even the greatest thane will be
content to follow a man who is a warrior of warriors. Ragnar can have
told her what you are in that way. Faith, brother, there are reasons
enough.”
Havelok laughed a short laugh at all this, and he grew brighter. There
was sense in Withelm’s words, if they would not bear looking deeply
into.
Then I said, adding to these words, “Moreover, Alsi could stop the
whole foolishness of his niece if he did not think it a fitting match
in some way.”
“So he could,” answered Havelok. “But yet—I tell you that there was
naught but evil in his face. Why did he try to force me?”
Then he went back to the thing that weighed mostly on his noble
heart—the thought that he was unworthy altogether.
“I fear that the princess does but think of me because she must. It is
in my mind that Alsi may have threatened her also until she has
consented. How shall I know this?”
“Most easily, as she speaks with you,” answered Withelm. “Tomorrow will
tell you that. And then, if you find things thus, what shall prevent
your flying?”
“Brother Radbard and the other housecarls,” said Havelok grimly.
“Not if you ask the princess to help you out of her own way by
pretending to be most willing. If Alsi thinks you a gladsome couple,
there is no difficulty. You walk out of the palace as a master there.
Then you fly to Ragnar. That is all.”
Now that was such an easy way out of the whole coil that we planned it
out. And yet it seemed to me that it was a pity that Havelok knew not
more of what seemed to us so sure now. So, seeing that things were
fairly straightened by this last thought, I got up and said that I must
be going, making a sign to Withelm to come also; and, with a few more
words, we went out. I saw Havelok set himself to a mighty task of water
drawing as I looked back.
“Now,” said I, “here is a strange affair with a vengeance. Neither head
nor tail can I make of it. But if all we think is right, this is the
marriage for the son of Gunnar.”
“Son of Gunnar, or son of Grim,” said Withelm, “princess or not, happy
is the maiden who gains Havelok for a husband. Maybe her woman’s wit
has told her so. She will have many suitors whom she knows to be
seeking her throne only, and to him she gives it as a gift unsought.”
“That is all beyond me,” I said; “but he would fill a throne well. But
his own modesty in the matter of his worthiness is likely to stand in
the way. Why should we not tell him all that we know? Then he will feel
that he is doing no wrong.”
“Because we are not sure, and because it is not for us to choose the
time. I have sent for Arngeir this morning, as we said would be well
last night. If the princess is unwilling, there are many things that
may be said; and if not, there must be many days before the wedding;
and, ere the day, Havelok may feel that he is her equal in birth at
least, if we are not wrong. But since I have waited here, Mord has told
me the dream that has troubled the princess, that I may tell the
priest, so that he can think it over. She has dreamed that she is to
wed a man who shall be king both in Denmark and England, and she saw
the man, moreover. Strangely like Havelok’s dream is that. Now what
else made her turn faint but that this vision was like Havelok? And
does not that make it possible that she wishes to wed him? Therefore I
am going to tell the priest the story of Havelok, so far as I know it.”
“Well thought of. Tell him this also, for now I may surely tell you
what you have not yet heard thereof.”
So I told him how Grim and I had taken Havelok from Hodulf, and then he
was the more certain that we had saved the son of our king.
Now we thought that we had got to the bottom of the whole matter of the
wedding. Of course the dream had all to do with the fainting, but
nothing to do with the supposed wish. But we did not know that.
“Speak not of Gunnar by name, however,” I said; “he was a terror to
Christian folk. The priest is likely to hinder the marriage with all
his might else.”
Withelm flushed as he had when he first spoke of the priest to me.
“I think not, brother; for he knows Havelok well, and loves him.”
“So,” said I shortly, “he hopes to make him a Christian, doubtless.”
“I think that he will do so, if he has a Christian wife to help.”
“That would not suit Havelok,” I said, laughing.
“Nay, but such a mind as his it seems to suit well already, though he
has not heard much.”
“Why, then,” said I, wondering, “if it suits our best and bravest, it
must be a wondrous faith. It seems strange, however; but I know naught
of it. What is good for him and you, my brother, is sure to be best.”
“I feared that you would be angry.”
“Nay, but with you and Havelok? How should that be? Why, if you two
said that we must turn Christian, I should hold it right; so would
Raven. I suppose that I go to the Ve[11] because you do.”
Now I troubled no more about the matter, being nothing but a sea dog
who could use a weapon. And now I said that I was going to Eglaf to say
that I might have to leave him at any time for home, in case we had to
fly with Havelok. So Withelm went his way to the old priest with a
light heart, and I to the captain.
“Well,” said Eglaf, “this is about what I expected when your brother
came. Good it has been to have you here; and I think that I shall see
you as a housecarl for good yet. When do you go?”
“The first time that I do not turn up on guard I am gone, not till
then.”
“Come and drink a farewell cup first.”
“I shall be in a great hurry if I do not do that,” I answered,
laughing.
But it was my thought that maybe when once my back was turned on the
town, I should not have time to think of going near King Alsi’s guard.
Then I went to find Ragnar the earl, for we thought it well that he
should know what was on hand. But when I came to the house of the thane
with whom he was quartered, they told me that he had gone hastily with
all his men, for word had come of some rising in his land that must be
seen to at once. That was bad; and as one must find a reason for
everything, I thought that the going of Griffin had much to do with the
outbreak. There I was wrong, as I found later. But then, too, I knew
that the craft of Alsi was at work in this message. He had his own
reasons for wishing the earl out of the way.