HOW THE BRIDE WENT HOME.
Now the folk cheered, and loudest of all honest Eglaf and his warriors.
I wondered what should come next, for neither feast nor bride ale was
prepared, and Berthun was looking puzzled. Then I saw that the only
face in all the wide hall which was not bright was that of Alsi, and
his brow was black as a thunder cloud, while his fingers were white
with the force with which he clutched and twisted the end of his
jewelled belt. Plainly he was in a royal rage that none had scoffed at
this wedding, but that all had taken it as a matter that was right
altogether.
But he had one more evil thing in his mind that must be seen through;
and he came forward, smoothing his face, as best he might, to the fixed
smile that I had seen when he spoke with Ragnar, and learned that his
first plot had miscarried.
“Now, friends,” he said, “all this has been so hasty that we have
prepared no feast. Even now, it seems that the horses stand at the door
to take bride and bridegroom hence, and doubtless there waits somewhere
the feast that has been bespoken without my knowledge. Well, strange
are the ways of lovers, and we will pardon them. I have therefore only
to bid them farewell.”
With that he turned to Havelok, and held out his hand, as in all good
fellowship, but Havelok would not see it.
“Fare as it shall be meted to you by the Asir, King Alsi,” he said,
“for at least Loki loves craft.”
Then he turned to me, and asked hurriedly where we should go if we must
leave thus.
“To Grimsby,” I said. “That is home.”
Alsi spoke to the princess now, and maybe it was as well that he did
not offer so much as his hand. Wise was he in his way.
“Farewell, niece,” he said; “all this shall come shortly before the
Witan of Ethelwald’s folk.”
“Farewell, uncle,” she answered calmly. “That is a matter which I will
see to myself. You have carried out your oath to the letter, so far,
and now it remains that you should leave the government of the realm to
me.”
With that she put her hand on Havelok’s arm.
“Come, husband; we have heard that the horses wait. Let us be gone.”
And then in a quick whisper she added, as if nigh overdone, “Take me
hence quickly, for I may not bear more.”
They wasted no more words; and through a lane of folk, who blessed
them, those two went to the great door down the long hall, and I
followed, and Berthun and the nurse came after me. One flung the door
open; and on the steps, all unaware of what had happened, lounged Mord,
waiting, and up and down on the green the grooms led the horses of the
princess—six in all. On two were packed her goods, and the third had a
pack saddle that waited for the bags that held her dowry. The other
three were for herself and Mord and the nurse. There was not one for
Havelok.
“This is hasty, my princess,” Mord said. “Whither are we bound?”
“For Grimsby, Mord,” I answered quickly. “Are there no more horses to
be had?”
“Never a one, unless we steal from the king,” he answered.
The people were crowding out now that they might see the start, and I
saw Berthun speak to a man among them who was a stranger to me. And
from him he turned directly with a glad face.
“Go down to such a hostelry,” he said to me, “and there ask for what
horses you will. Maybe I shall have to follow you for my part in this
matter—that is, if I am not put in the dungeon.”
“Faith,” I answered, “better had you come with us than run that risk.
Alsi is in a bad mood.”
He shook his head; and then the people behind him made way, for the
king was coming.
“Almost had you forgotten this,” he said; “and I think you will want
it.”
The men with the money were there, and he waved his hand to them.
Havelok lifted the princess to her horse without heeding him, and the
men set the bags on the pack horses.
“See the bridegroom down the street, you who were his witnesses,” the
king went on, with a curling lip; “and if you are a wise man, master
Berthun, you will not come back again.”
Berthun bowed and went into the hail, past the king, and across to his
own door, without a word. After him the thronging people closed up, and
though I thought that a housecarl would have been sent to see what he
was about, this would have made an open talk, and Alsi forbore.
“Let Havelok take your horse, Mord,” I whispered to him; “I will tell
you why directly.”
He nodded, and I told Havelok to mount. Then I helped up the nurse, who
wept and muttered to herself; and so we started, Alsi standing on the
steps with words of feigned goodspeed as we did so.
But the housecarls and the people shouted with wishes that were real,
no doubt thinking that we were bound for the far-off kingdom of the
prince who had won Goldberga by service as a kitchen knave in her
uncle’s hall for very love of her.
Directly we were outside the gate that leads down the hill, I saw
Withelm, who was there waiting for me, and he knew at once what had
happened.
He came to my side, and asked only, “Already?”
“Already,” I answered; “but it is well. Go to the widow’s straightway,
and bring Havelok’s arms to him at the hostelry at the end of the
marketplace, where we have to find more horses.”
He went at once, and silently we came down the street and to the
courtyard of the inn. Some few folk stared at us; but the princess was
hardly known here, and she had cast her long, white mantle hoodwise
over her head and face, so that one could not tell who she was. So
early in the day there were few people in the marketplace either.
Berthun was in the courtyard of the inn, and I was glad to see him, for
I did not know what would happen to him. It was likely that Alsi would
seek for someone on whom to visit his anger at the way things had gone.
But the steward had been warned, and was not one to run any risk.
“I did but go back for a few things that I did not care to leave,” he
said; and he showed me that he had brought his own horse from the
stables, and on it were large saddlebags. No poor man was Berthun after
years of service in the palace, where gifts from thane and lady are
always ready for the man who has had the care of them. Across the
saddle bow also were his mail shirt and arms, and his shield hung with
his helm from the peak.
“You see that I must needs cast in my lot with yours, or rather
Curan’s,” he said, laughing; “but it is in my mind that in the end I
shall not be sorry to have done so. I think that I am tired of the
fireside, and want adventure for a while.”
“Well,” I answered, “you are likely to have them, and that shortly, if
I am not mistaken; but we shall see. Now about these horses, for we had
better get out of Lincoln as soon as we may.”
The man he had spoken with was a merchant, who came yearly, and was a
friend of his. He had more horses than he meant to keep, as he had here
each year; for every one knows that a horse can always be sold in
Lincoln, and they were good ones. Then my gold came in well, and I
bought three, one for each of us brothers. I daresay that I paid dearly
for them, but there was no time for haggling in the way that a horse
dealer loves. Out of the way of Alsi we must get, before he bethought
him of more crafty devices. And I thought, moreover, that we should be
riding towards East Anglia shortly, and it was not everywhere that a
steed fit to carry Havelok on a long journey was to be had.
I had bidden him leave all this to me as we came down the hill, and
glad he was to do so. Now he had dismounted, and stood by the side of
the princess, speaking earnestly to her. It was plain that what he said
was pleasant to her also. But we left them apart, as one might suppose.
Now came a warrior into the courtyard, and he bore more arms. It was
Withelm, who had borrowed the gear of the widow’s dead husband, that he
might be ready for whatever might happen: and it was good to see
Havelok’s eyes grow bright as he spied the well-known weapons that his
brother had in his arms. He said one word to Goldberga, and then came
to us.
“Let me get into war gear at once,” he said, laughing in a way that
lightened my heart. “I shall not feel that I have shaken off service to
Alsi until I have done so.”
And then he saw Berthun here for the first time.
“Nay, but here is my master,” he added. “And I will say that I owe him
much for his kindness.”
“Now the kindness shall be on your part, if any was on mine. Take me
into your service, I pray you, henceforward.”
“Good friend of mine,” said Havelok, “naught have I to offer you. And
how should one serve me?”
“With heart and hand and head, neither more nor less,” answered
Berthun. “I have seen you serve, and now will see you command. Let me
bide with you, my master, at least, giving you such service as I may.”
“Such help as you may, rather. For now we all serve the princess,”
Havelok said.
And with that Berthun was well content for the time.
“Well, then,” said I, “see to Havelok’s arms, while we get the horses
ready, for I want Withelm here.”
So Havelok and his new man went into the house with his arms, and then
I saw Goldberga beckoning to us. It was the first time that I had
spoken to her, and I think that I was frightened, if that is what they
call the feeling that makes one wish to be elsewhere. But there was
nothing to fear in the sweet face that she turned to us.
“Brothers,” she said, “Havelok tells me that it was one of you who
brought David the priest to me. I do not rightly know yet which is
Withelm.”
With that she smiled and blushed a little, and I stood, helm in hand,
stupidly enough. But my brother was more ready.
“I am Withelm, my princess—” he began.
“Nay; but ‘sister’ it shall be between me and my husband’s brothers.
Now, brother Withelm, there is one thing that is next my heart, and in
it I know you will help me.”
There she wavered for a moment, and then went on bravely.
“Christian am I, and I do not think that we are rightly wedded until
the priest has done his part. And to that Havelok agrees most
willingly, saying that I must ask you thereof, for he does not know
where the old man is now.”
“Wedded in the little chapel that is in the thick of Cabourn woods
shall you be, for David has gone there already. We can ride and find
him before many hours are over, sweet lady of ours.”
She thanked him in few words, and with much content.
Then came forth from the house Havelok, in the arms that suited him so
well—golden, shining mail shirt of hard bronze scales, and steel,
horned helm, plain and strong, and girt with sword and seax, and with
axe and shield slung over shoulder, as noble a warrior surely as was in
all England, ay, or in the Northlands that gave him birth either; and
what wonder that the eyes of the princess glowed with a new pride as
she looked at her mighty husband?
But Mord almost shouted when he saw him come thus, and to me he said,
“It is Gunnar—Gunnar, I tell you—come back from Asgard to help my
princess.”
“Wait till we get to Grimsby, and Arngeir will make all clear,” I said.
“Get into your arms, and we will start. All is ready now.”
We did not wait for Mord, but mounted and rode out, and the princess
looked round at us as she rode first beside Havelok, and said, “Never
have I ridden so well attended, as I think.”
And from beside me, with broad face from under his helm, Berthun
answered for us all, “Never with men so ready to die for you, at least,
my mistress.”
And that was true.
Half a mile out of the town we rode at a quick trot, and then thundered
Mord after us, and his hurry surely meant something. I reined up and
waited for him.
“What is the hurry, Mord?” said I.
“Maybe it is nothing, and maybe it is much,” he answered; “but Griffin
of Chester has gone up to the palace, for I saw him. He has his arm in
a sling, and his face looks as if it had been trodden on. Now Alsi will
tell him all this, and if we are not followed I am mistaken. He would
think nothing of wiping out our party to take the princess, and Alsi
will not mind if he does. How shall we give him the slip?”
Withelm rode with his chin over his shoulder, and I beckoned him and
told him this. Not long was his quick wit in seeing a way out of what
might be a danger.
“Let us ride on quickly down the Ermin Street, and he will think us
making for the south and Norwich. Then we will turn off to Cabourn, and
he will lose us. After that he may hear that some of us belong to
Grimsby, and will go there; but he will be too late to hurt us. Hard
men are our fishers, and they would fight for Havelok and the sons of
Grim.”
So we did that, riding down the old Roman way to a wide, waste forest
land where none should see us turn off, and then across the forest
paths to Cabourn; and there we found the hermit, and there Havelok and
Goldberga were wedded again with all the rites of Holy Church, and the
bride was well content.
Now while that was our way, I will say what we escaped by this plan of
my brother’s, though we did not hear all for a long time. Presently we
did hear what had happened at Grimsby towards this business, as will be
seen.
To Lincoln comes Griffin, with Cadwal his thane, just as we had left
the town thus by another road, and straightway he betakes himself to
the palace. There he finds Alsi in an evil mood, and in the hall the
people are talking fast, and there is no Berthun to receive him.
So, as he sits at the high table and breaks his fast beside the king,
he asks what all the wonderment may be. And Alsi tells him, speaking in
Welsh.
“East Anglia is mine,” he says, “for I have rid myself of the girl.”
Griffin sets his hand on his dagger.
“Hast killed her?” he says sharply.
“No; married her.”
“To whom, then?”
“To a man whom the Witan will not have as a king at any price.”
“There you broke faith with me,” says Griffin, snarling. “I would have
taken her, and chanced that.”
“My oath was in the way of that. You missed the chance on the road the
other day, which would have made things easy for us both. There was no
other for you.”
Now Griffin curses Ragnar, and the Welsh tongue is good for that
business.
“Who is the man, then?” he says, when he has done.
“The biggest and best-looking countryman of yours that I have ever set
eyes on,” answers Alsi, looking askance at Griffin’s angry face. “There
is a sort of consolation for you.”
“His name,” fairly shouts Griffin.
“Curan, the kitchen knave,” says Alsi, chuckling.
“O fool, and doubly fool!” cries Griffin; “now have you outdone
yourself. Was it not plain to you that the man could be no thrall? Even
Ragnar looks mean beside him, and I hate Ragnar, so that I know well
how goodly he is.”
Now Alsi grows uneasy, knowing that this had become plainer and plainer
to him as the wedding went on.
“Why, what do you know of this knave of mine?” he asks. “He was goodly
enough for the sake of my oath, and the Witan will have none of him.
That is all I care for.”
“What do I know of him? Just this—that you have married the queen of
the East Angles to Havelok, son of Gunnar Kirkeban of Denmark, for whom
men wait over there even now. The Witan not have him? I tell you that
every man in the land will follow him and Goldberga if they so much as
lift their finger. Done are the days of your kingship, and that by your
own deed.”
Alsi grows white at this and trembles, for he minds the wondrous ring
and the names of the Asir, but he asks for more certainty.
Then Griffin tells him that he was with Hodulf, and knew all the secret
of the making away with the boy, and how that came to naught. Then he
says that Hodulf had heard from certain Vikings that they had fallen on
Grim’s ship, and that in the grappling of the vessel the boy and a lady
had been drowned. It is quite likely that they, or some of them,
thought so in truth, seeing how that happened. After that Hodulf had
made inquiry, and was told that there were none but the children of
Grim with him, and so was content. So my father’s wisdom was justified.
“Now I learned his name the other day; and I have a ship waiting to
take me at once to Hodulf, that I may warn him. I have ridden back from
Grimsby even now to say that, given a chance, say on some lonely ride,
that might well have been contrived, I would take Goldberga with me
beyond the sea. I thought more of that than of Hodulf, to say the
truth.”
Now Alsi breaks down altogether, and prays Griffin to help him out of
this.
“Follow the party and take her. They are few and unarmed, and it will
be easy, for men think that there is a plot to carry her off, and this
will not surprise any. Go to the sheriff and tell him that it has
happened, and he will hang the men on sight when you have taken them.
Then get to sea with the girl, and to Hodulf, and both he and I will
reward you.”
“Thanks,” says Griffin, with a sneer; “I have my own men. Yours might
have orders that I am the one to be hanged. It would be worth your
while now to make a friend of your kitchen knave. You are not to be
trusted.”
So these two wrangle for a while bitterly, for Alsi is not overlord of
Griffin in any way. And the end is that the thane rides towards Grimsby
first of all, with twenty men at his heels, knowing more than we
thought. But he hears naught of us, and presently meets Arngeir on his
way thence to see us. Him he knows, for already he has had dealings
with him in the hiring of the ship. So he learns from him that
certainly no such party as he seeks is on the road, and therefore rides
off to the Ermin Street to stay us from going south.
But now we had time for a long start; and so he follows the Roman road
when he reaches it all that day and part of next, and we hear no more
of him at that time. There are many parties travelling on that way, and
he follows one after another.
Now Arngeir knew at once that somewhat had happened when he heard from
Griffin that the most notable man of those whom he sought was named
Curan, and therefore he turned back at once and waited for us. And when
we came in sight of the long roof of the house that Grim, our father,
had built, standing among the clustering cottages of our fishers, with
the masts of a trading ship or two showing above it in the haven, he
was there on the road to greet us, having watched anxiously for our
coming from the beacon tower that we had made.
Maybe we were two miles out of Grimsby at this time, for one can see
far along the level marsh tracks from our tower; and Withelm and Mord
and I rode on to him as soon as we saw him, that we might tell him all
that had happened, and we rode slowly and talked for half a mile or so.
Then Withelm waited and brought Havelok to us, staying himself with the
princess, that he might tell her the wondrous story of her husband; for
we thought that it would be easier for him than for our brother maybe.
Havelok was not one to speak freely of himself.
And when Goldberga had heard all, she was silent for a long way, and
then wept a little, but at last told Withelm that all this had been
foretold to her in her dream.
“Yet I am glad,” she said, “that I did not know this for certain, else
had my Havelok thought that I did but wed him for his birth. Tell him,
brother, that it was not so; say that I knew him as the husband Heaven
sent for me when first I saw him.”
Now Havelok listened to Arngeir as he told him the well-kept secret,
and now and again asked a question.
And when all was told he said, “Now have the dreams passed, and the
light is come. I mind all plainly from the first.”
And he told all that had happened after Hodulf caught him, from the
murder of his sisters to the time when I helped my father to take him
from the sack. Only he never remembered the death of his mother or the
storm, or how we came to Grimsby. Maybe it is rather a wonder that
after all those hard things gone through he should recall anything, for
he was nearly dying when we came ashore, as I have told.
“But I am Grim’s son,” he said, “for all this, and never shall I forget
it. By right of life saved, and by right of upbringing, am I his, and
by right of brotherhood to his sons. Gunnar, who was my father, would
have me say this, if I am like him, as Mord tells me I am.”
Then he looked at us in brotherly wise, as if we would maybe not allow
that claim now; but there needed naught to be said between us when he
met our eyes. He was Grim’s son indeed to us, and we his younger
brothers for all the days that were to come.
“One thing there is that makes me glad,” he said, “and that is because
I may now be held worthy of this sweet bride of mine so strangely
given, as indeed I fear that I am not. Men will say that she has done
no wrong in wedding me; and for all that Alsi may say, it will be
believed that she knew well whom she was wedding. There will be no
blame to her.”
That seemed to be all his thought of the matter now, and it was like
him. Then he went back to his princess, and we spurred on to Grimsby,
and set all to work, that the greeting might be all that we could make
it.
And so, when those two rode into our garth, and the gates were closed
after them, we reined our horses round them, and drew our swords, and
cried the ancient greeting with one mighty shout:
“Skoal to Havelok Gunnarsson—Skoal to Goldberga, Havelok’s wife! Skoal!
Yours we are, and for you we will die! Skoal!”