PART I.

Produced by Al Haines

[Illustration: Cover art]

[Frontispiece: SLAGFID PURSUES THE WRAITH. _See p._ 60.]

TALES OF ROMANCE

BASED ON TALES IN THE

BOOK OF ROMANCE EDITED

BY ANDREW LANG

WITH 4 COLOURED PLATES AND 15 OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS

By H. J. FORD AND LANCELOT SPEED

_NEW IMPRESSION_

LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.

39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON

FOURTH AVENUE & 30TH STREET, NEW YORK

BOMBAY, CALCUTTA, AND MADRAS

1919

CONTENTS.

The Story of Robin Hood

Wayland the Smith

Some Adventures of William Short Nose

The Sword Excalibur

How Grettir the Strong Became an Outlaw

Death of Grettir the Strong

ILLUSTRATIONS.

COLOURED PLATES.

Slagfid pursues the Wraith over the Mountain . . . . . . _Frontispiece_

The Chariot of Freya

Alix kisses Rainouart

Arthur meets the Lady of the Lake and gets the Sword Excalibur

ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT.

Robin Hood's meeting with Little John

The Knight repays the Four Hundred Pounds

When the Sheriff saw his own vessels, his appetite went from him

Friar Tuck upsets Robin Hood

"There is pith in your arm," said Robin Hood

Robin Hood shoots his Last Arrow

The Three Women by the Stream

Wayland mocked by the Queen and Banvilda

The Merman warns Banvilda in vain

Vivian's Last Confession

The Captives--William Short Nose rides to the Rescue

The Lady Alix stays the wrath of William Short Nose

The Lady Gibourc with Rainouart in the Kitchen

Rainouart stops the Cowards

Grettir overthrows Thorir Redbeard

THE STORY OF ROBIN HOOD.

PART I.

Many hundreds of years ago, when the Plantagenets were kings, England

was so covered with woods, that a squirrel was said to be able to hop

from tree to tree from the Severn to the Humber.

It must have been very different to look at from the country we travel

through now; but still there were roads that ran from north to south

and from east to west, for the use of those who wished to leave their

homes, and at certain times of the year these roads were thronged with

people.

Pilgrims going to some holy shrine passed along, merchants taking their

wares to Court, Abbots and Bishops ambling by on palfreys to bear their

part in the King's Council, and, more frequently still, a solitary

Knight, seeking adventures.

Besides the broad roads there were small tracks and little green paths,

and these led to clumps of low huts, where dwelt the peasants,

charcoal-burners, and ploughmen, and here and there some larger

clearing than usual told that the house of a yeoman was near.

Now and then as you passed through the forest you might ride by a

splendid abbey, and catch a glimpse of monks in long black or white

gowns, fishing in the streams and rivers that abound in this part of

England, or casting nets in the fish ponds which were in the midst of

the abbey gardens. Or you might chance to see a castle with round

turrets and high battlements, circled by strong walls, and protected by

a moat full of water.

This was the sort of England into which the famous Robin Hood was born.

We do not know anything about him, who he was, or where he lived, or

what evil deed he had done to put him beyond the King's grace. For he

was an outlaw, and any man might kill him and never pay penalty for it.

But, outlaw or not, the poor people loved him and looked on him as

their friend, and many a stout fellow came to join him, and led a merry

life in the greenwood, with moss and fern for bed, and for meat the

King's deer, which it was death to slay.

Peasants of all sorts, tillers of the land, yeomen, and as some say

Knights, went on their ways freely, for of them Robin took no toll; but

lordly churchmen with money-bags well filled, or proud Bishops with

their richly dressed followers, trembled as they drew near to Sherwood

Forest--who was to know whether behind every tree there did not lurk

Robin Hood or some of his men?

PART II.

THE COMING OF LITTLE JOHN.

One day Robin was walking alone in the wood, and reached a river which

was spanned by a very narrow bridge, over which one man only could

pass. In the midst stood a stranger, and Robin bade him go back and

let him go over. "I am no man of yours," was all the answer Robin got,

and in anger he drew his bow and fitted an arrow to it.

"Would you shoot a man who has no arms but a staff?" asked the stranger

in scorn; and with shame Robin laid down his bow, and unbuckled an

oaken stick at his side. "We will fight till one of us falls into the

water," he said; and fight they did, till the stranger planted a blow

so well that Robin rolled over into the river.

[Illustration: Robin Hood's meeting with Little John.]

"You are a brave soul," said he, when he had waded to land, and he blew

a blast with his horn which brought fifty good fellows, clad in green,

to the little bridge.

"Have you fallen into the river that your clothes are wet?" asked one;

and Robin made answer, "No, but this stranger, fighting on the bridge,

got the better of me, and tumbled me into the stream."

At this the foresters seized the stranger, and would have ducked him

had not their leader bade them stop, and begged the stranger to stay

with them and make one of themselves. "Here is my hand," replied the

stranger, "and my heart with it. My name, if you would know it, is

John Little."

"That must be altered," cried Will Scarlett; "we will call a feast, and

henceforth, because he is full seven feet tall and round the waist at

least an ell, he shall be called Little John."

And thus it was done; but at the feast Little John, who always liked to

know exactly what work he had to do, put some questions to Robin Hood.

"Before I join hands with you, tell me first what sort of life is this

you lead? How am I to know whose goods I shall take, and whose I shall

leave? Whom I shall beat, and whom I shall refrain from beating?"

And Robin answered: "Look that you harm not any tiller of the ground,

nor any yeoman of the greenwood--no, nor no Knight nor Squire, unless

you have heard him ill spoken of. But if Bishops or Archbishops come

your way, see that you spoil _them_, and mark that you always hold in

your mind the High Sheriff of Nottingham."

This being settled, Robin Hood declared Little John to be second in

command to himself among the brotherhood of the forest, and the new

outlaw never forgot to "hold in his mind" the High Sheriff of

Nottingham, who was the bitterest enemy the foresters had.

Robin Hood, however, had no liking for a company of idle men about him,

and he at once sent off Little John and Will Scarlett to the great road

known as Watling Street, with orders to hide among the trees and wait

till some adventure might come to them; and if they took captive Earl

or Baron, Abbot or Knight, he was to be brought unharmed back to Robin

Hood.

But all along Watling Street the road was bare; white and hard it lay

in the sun, without the tiniest cloud of dust to show that a rich

company might be coming: east and west the land lay still.

PART III.

LITTLE JOHN'S FIRST ADVENTURE.

At length, just where a side path turned into the broad highway, there

rode a Knight, and a sorrier man than he never sat a horse on summer

day. One foot only was in the stirrup, the other hung carelessly by

his side; his head was bowed, the reins dropped loose, and his horse

went on as he would. At so sad a sight the hearts of the outlaws were

filled with pity, and Little John fell on his knees and bade the Knight

welcome in the name of his master.

"Who is your master?" asked the Knight.

"Robin Hood," answered Little John.

"I have heard much good of him," replied the Knight, "and will go with

you gladly."

Then they all set off together, tears running down the Knight's cheeks

as he rode, but he said nothing, neither was anything said to him. And

in this wise they came to Robin Hood.

"Welcome, Sir Knight," cried he, "and thrice welcome, for I waited to

break my fast till you or some other had come to me."

"God save you, good Robin," answered the Knight, and after they had

washed themselves in the stream, they sat down to dine off bread and

wine, with flesh of the King's deer, and swans and pheasants. "Such a

dinner have I not had for three weeks and more," said the Knight. "And

if I ever come again this way, good Robin, I will give you as fine a

dinner as you have given me."

"I thank you," replied Robin, "my dinner is always welcome; still, I am

none so greedy but I can wait for it. But before you go, pay me, I

pray you, for the food which you have had. It was never the custom for

a yeoman to pay for a Knight."

"My bag is empty," said the Knight, "save for ten shillings only."

"Go, Little John, and look in his wallet," said Robin, "and, Sir

Knight, if in truth you have no more, not one penny will I take; nay, I

will give you all that you shall need."

So Little John spread out the Knight's mantle, and opened the bag, and

therein lay ten shillings and naught besides.

"What tidings, Little John?" cried his master.

"Sir, the Knight speaks truly," said Little John.

"Then fill a cup of the best wine and tell me, Sir Knight, whether it

is your own ill doings which have brought you to this sorry pass."

"For an hundred years my fathers have dwelt in the forest," answered

the Knight, "and four hundred pounds might they spend yearly. But

within two years misfortune has befallen me, and my wife and children

also."

"How did this evil come to pass?" asked Robin.

"Through my own folly," answered the Knight, "and because of the great

love I bore my son, who would never be guided of my counsel, and slew,

ere he was twenty years old, a Knight of Lancaster and his Squire. For

their deaths I had to pay a large sum, which I could not raise without

giving my lands in pledge to the rich Abbot of St. Mary's. If I cannot

bring him the money by a certain day they will be lost to me for ever."

"What is the sum?" asked Robin. "Tell me truly."

"It is four hundred pounds," said the Knight.

"And what will you do if you lose your lands?" asked Robin again.

"Hide myself over the sea," said the Knight, "and bid farewell to my

friends and country. There is no better way open to me."

At this tears fell from his eyes, and he turned him to depart. "Good

day, my friend," he said to Robin, "I cannot pay you what I should----"

But Robin held him fast. "Where _are_ your friends?" asked he.

"Sir, they have all forsaken me since I became poor, and they turn away

their heads if we meet upon the road, though when I was rich they were

ever in my castle."

When Little John and Will Scarlett and the rest heard this, they wept

for very shame and fury, and Robin bade them fill a cup of the best

wine, and give it to the Knight.

"Have you no one who would stay surety for you?" said he.

"None," answered the Knight, "but only Our Lady, who has never yet

failed to help me."

"You speak well," said Robin, "and you, Little John, go to my treasure

chest, and bring me thence four hundred pounds. And be sure you count

it truly."

So Little John went, and Will Scarlett, and they brought back the money.

"Sir," said Little John, when Robin had counted it and found it no more

nor no less, "look at his clothes, how thin they are! You have stores

of garments, green and scarlet, in your coffers--no merchant in England

can boast the like. I will measure some out with my bow." And thus he

did.

"Master," spoke Little John again, "there is still something else. You

must give him a horse, that he may go as beseems his quality to the

Abbey."

"Take the grey horse," said Robin, "and put a new saddle on it, and

take likewise a good palfrey and a pair of boots, with gilt spurs on

them. And as it would be a shame for a Knight to ride by himself on

this errand, I will lend you Little John as Squire--perchance he may

stand you in yeoman's stead."

"When shall we meet again?" asked the Knight.

"This day twelve months," said Robin, "under the greenwood tree."

Then the Knight rode on his way, with Little John behind him, and as he

went he thought of Robin Hood and his men, and blessed them for the

goodness they had shown towards him.

"To-morrow," he said to Little John, "I must be at the Abbey of St.

Mary, which is in the city of York, for if I am but so much as a day

late my lands are lost forever, and though I were to bring the money I

should not be suffered to redeem them."

PART IV.

Now the Abbot had been counting the days as well as the Knight, and the

next morning he said to his monks: "This day year there came a Knight

and borrowed of me four hundred pounds, giving his lands in surety.

And if he come not to pay his debt ere midnight tolls they will be ours

for ever."

"It is full early yet," answered the Prior, "he may still be coming."

"He is far beyond the sea," said the Abbot, "and suffers from hunger

and cold. How is he to get here?"

"It were a shame," said the Prior, "for you to take his lands. And you

do him much wrong if you drive such a hard bargain."

"He is dead or hanged," spake a fat-headed monk who was the cellarer,

"and we shall have his four hundred pounds to spend on our gardens and

our wines," and he went with the Abbot to attend the court of justice,

wherein the Knight's lands would be declared forfeited by the High

Justiciar.

"If he come not this day," cried the Abbot, rubbing his hands, "if he

come not this day, they will be ours."

"He will not come yet," said the Justiciar, but he knew not that the

Knight was already at the outer gate, and Little John with him.

"Welcome, Sir Knight," said the porter. "The horse that you ride is

the noblest that ever I saw. Let me lead them both to the stable, that

they may have food and rest."

"They shall not pass these gates," answered the Knight sternly, and he

entered the hall alone, where the monks were sitting at meat, and knelt

down and bowed to them.

"I have come back, my lord," he said to the Abbot, who had just

returned from the court. "I have come back this day as I promised."

"Have you brought my money?" was all the Abbot said.

"Not a penny," answered the Knight, who wished to see how the Abbot

would treat him.

"Then what do you here without it?" cried the Abbot in angry tones.

"I have come to pray you for a longer day," answered the Knight meekly.

"The day was fixed and cannot be gainsaid," replied the Justiciar; but

the Knight only begged that he would stand his friend and help him in

his strait. "I am with the Abbot," was all the Justiciar would answer.

"Good Sir Abbot, be my friend," prayed the Knight again, "and give me

one chance more to get the money and free my lands. I will serve you

day and night till I have four hundred pounds to redeem them."

But the Abbot only vowed that the money must be paid that day or the

lands be forfeited.

The Knight stood up straight and tall: "It is well," said he, "to prove

one's friends against the hour of need," and he looked the Abbot full

in the face, and the Abbot felt uneasy, he did not know why, and hated

the Knight more than ever. "Out of my hall, false Knight!" cried he,

pretending to a courage which he did not feel. But the Knight stayed

where he was, and answered him, "You lie, Abbot. Never was I false,

and that I have shown in jousts and in tourneys."

"Give him two hundred pounds more," said the Justiciar to the Abbot,

"and keep the lands yourself."

"No, by Heaven!" answered the Knight, "not if you offered me a thousand

pounds would I do it! Neither Justiciar, Abbot, nor Monk shall be heir

of mine." Then he strode up to a table and emptied out four hundred

pounds. "Take your gold, Sir Abbot, which you lent to me a year agone.

Had you but received me civilly, I would have paid you something more.

[Illustration: The Knight repays the four hundred pounds]

"Sir Abbot, and ye men of law,

Now have I kept my day!

Now shall I have my land again,

For aught that you may say."

So he passed out of the hall singing merrily, leaving the Abbot staring

silently after him, and rode back to his house, where his wife met him

at the gate.

"Welcome, my lord," said his lady,

"Sir, lost is all your good."

"Be merry, dame," said the Knight,

"And pray for Robin Hood.

"But for his kindness, we had been beggars."

PART V.

After this the Knight dwelt at home, looking after his lands and saving

his money carefully, till the four hundred pounds lay ready for Robin

Hood. Then he bought a hundred bows and a hundred arrows, and every

arrow was an ell long, and had a head of silver and peacock's feathers.

And clothing himself in white and red, and with a hundred men in his

train, he set off to Sherwood Forest.

On the way he passed an open space near a bridge where there was a

wrestling, and the Knight stopped and looked, for he himself had taken

many a prize in that sport. Here the prizes were such as to fill any

man with envy; a fine horse, saddled and bridled, a great white bull, a

pair of gloves, a ring of bright red gold, and a pipe of wine.

There was not a yeoman present who did not hope to win one of them.

But when the wrestling was over, the yeoman who had beaten them all was

a man who kept apart from his fellows, and was said to think much of

himself.

Therefore the men grudged him his skill, and set upon him with blows,

and would have killed him, had not the Knight, for love of Robin Hood,

taken pity on him, while his followers fought with the crowd, and would

not suffer them to touch the prizes a better man had won.

When the wrestling was finished the Knight rode on, and there under the

greenwood tree, in the place appointed, he found Robin Hood and his

merry men waiting for him, according to the tryst that they had fixed

last year:--

"God save thee, Robin Hood,

And all this company."

"Welcome be thou, gentle Knight,

And right welcome to me.

"Hast thou thy land again?" said Robin,

"Truth then tell thou me."

"Yea, for God," said the Knight,

"And that thank I God and thee.

"Have here four hundred pounds," said the Knight,

"The which you lent to me;

And here are also twenty marks

For your courtesie."

But Robin would not take the money. A miracle had happened, he said,

and Our Lady had paid it to him, and shame would it be for him to take

it twice over.

Then he noticed for the first time the bows and arrows which the Knight

had brought, and asked what they were. "A poor present to you,"

answered the Knight, and Robin, who would not be outdone, sent Little

John once more to his treasury, and bade him bring forth four hundred

pounds, which was given to the Knight.

After that they parted, in much love, and Robin prayed the Knight if he

were in any strait "to let him know at the greenwood tree, and while

there was any gold there he should have it".

PART VI.

HOW LITTLE JOHN BECAME THE SHERIFF'S SERVANT.

Meanwhile the High Sheriff of Nottingham proclaimed a great

shooting-match in a broad open space, and Little John was minded to try

his skill with the rest. He rode through the forest, whistling gaily

to himself, for well he knew that not one of Robin Hood's men could

send an arrow as straight as he, and he felt little fear of anyone else.

When he reached the trysting place he found a large company assembled,

the Sheriff with them, and the rules of the match were read out: where

they were to stand, how far the mark was to be, and how that three

tries should be given to every man.

Some of the shooters shot near the mark, some of them even touched it,

but none but Little John split the slender wand of willow with every

arrow that flew from his bow.

At this sight the Sheriff of Nottingham swore that Little John was the

best archer that ever he had seen, and asked him who he was and where

he was born, and vowed that if he would enter his service he would give

twenty marks a year to so good a bowman.

Little John, who did not wish to confess that he was one of Robin

Hood's men and an outlaw, said his name was Reynold Greenleaf, and that

he was in the service of a Knight, whose leave he must get before he

became the servant of any man.

This was given heartily by the Knight, and Little John bound himself to

the Sheriff for the space of twelve months, and was given a good white

horse to ride on whenever he went abroad. But for all that he did not

like his bargain, and made up his mind to do the Sheriff, who was hated

of the outlaws, all the mischief he could.

His chance came on a Wednesday when the Sheriff always went hunting,

and Little John lay in bed till noon, when he grew hungry. Then he got

up, and told the steward that he wanted some dinner. The steward

answered he should have nothing till the Sheriff came home, so Little

John grumbled and left him, and sought out the butler.

Here he was no more successful than before; the butler just went to the

buttery door and locked it, and told Little John that he would have to

make himself happy till his lord returned.

Rude words mattered nothing to Little John, who was not accustomed to

be baulked by trifles, so he gave a mighty kick which burst open the

door, and then ate and drank as much as he would, and when he had

finished all there was in the buttery, he went down into the kitchen.

Now the Sheriff's cook was a strong man and a bold one, and had no mind

to let another man play the king in his kitchen; so he gave Little John

three smart blows, which were returned heartily. "Thou art a brave man

and hardy," said Little John, "and a good fighter withal. I have a

sword, take you another, and let us see which is the better man of us

twain."

The cook did as he was bid, and for two hours they fought, neither of

them harming the other. "Fellow," said Little John at last, "you are

one of the best swordsmen that I ever saw--and if you could shoot as

well with the bow, I would take you back to the merry greenwood, and

Robin Hood would give you twenty marks a year and two changes of

clothing."

"Put up your sword," said the cook, "and I will go with you. But first

we will have some food in my kitchen, and carry off a little of the

gold that is in the Sheriff's treasure house."

They ate and drank till they wanted no more, then they broke the locks

of the treasure house, and took of the silver as much as they could

carry, three hundred pounds and more, and departed unseen by anyone to

Robin in the forest.

PART VII.

"Welcome! welcome!" cried Robin when he saw them, "welcome, too, to the

fair yeoman you bring with you. What tidings from Nottingham, Little

John?"

"The proud Sheriff greets you, and sends you by my hand his cook and

his silver vessels, and three hundred pounds and three also."

Robin shook his head, for he knew better than to believe Little John's

tale. "It was never by his good will that you brought such treasure to

me," he answered, and Little John, fearing that he might be ordered to

take it back again, slipped away into the forest to carry out a plan

that had just come into his head.

He ran straight on for five miles, till he came up with the Sheriff,

who was still hunting, and flung himself on his knees before him.

"Reynold Greenleaf," cried the Sheriff, "what are you doing here, and

where have you been?"

"I have been in the forest, where I saw a fair hart of a green colour,

and sevenscore deer feeding hard by."

"That sight would I see too," said the Sheriff.

"Then follow me," answered Little John, and he ran back the way he

came, the Sheriff following on horseback, till they turned a corner of

the forest, and found themselves in Robin Hood's presence. "Sir, here

is the master-hart," said Little John.

Still stood the proud Sheriff,

A sorry man was he,

"Woe be to you, Reynold Greenleaf,

Thou hast betrayed me!"

"It was not my fault," answered Little John, "but the fault of your

servants, master. For they would not give me my dinner," and he went

away to see to the supper.

It was spread under the greenwood tree, and they sat down to it, hungry

men all. But when the Sheriff saw himself served from his own vessels,

his appetite went from him.

[Illustration: When the Sheriff saw his own vessels his appetite went

from him]

"Take heart, man," said Robin Hood, "and think not we will poison you.

For charity's sake, and for the love of Little John, your life shall be

granted you. Only for twelve months you shall dwell with me, and learn

what it is to be an outlaw."

To the Sheriff this punishment was worse to bear than the loss of gold

or silver dishes, and earnestly he begged Robin Hood to set him free,

vowing he would prove himself the best friend that ever the foresters

had.

Neither Robin nor any of his men believed him, but he swore that he

would never seek to do them harm, and that if he found any of them in

evil plight he would deliver them out of it. With that Robin let him

go.

PART VIII.

HOW ROBIN MET FRIAR TUCK.

In many ways life in the forest was dull in the winter, and often the

days passed slowly; but in summer, when the leaves were green, and

flowers and ferns covered all the woodland, Robin Hood and his men

would come out of their warm resting places, like the rabbits and the

squirrels, and would play too. Races they ran to stretch their legs,

or leaping matches were arranged, or they would shoot at a mark.

Anything was pleasant when the grass was soft once more under their

feet.

"Who can kill a hart of grace five hundred paces off?" So said Robin

to his men in the bright May time; and they went into the wood and

tried their skill, and in the end it was Little John who brought down

the "hart of grace," to the great joy of Robin Hood.

"I would ride my horse a hundred miles to find one who could match with

thee," he said to Little John, and Will Scarlett, who was perhaps

rather jealous of this mighty deed, answered with a laugh, "There lives

a friar in Fountains Abbey who would beat both him and you."

Now Robin Hood did not like to be told that any man could shoot better

than himself or his foresters, so he swore lustily that he would

neither eat nor drink till he had seen that friar. Leaving his men

where they were, he put on a coat of mail and a steel cap, took his

shield and sword, slung his bow over his shoulder, and filled his

quiver with arrows. Thus armed, he set forth to Fountains Dale.

By the side of the river a friar was walking, armed like Robin, but

without a bow. At this sight Robin jumped from his horse, which he

tied to a thorn, and called to the friar to carry him over the water or

it would cost him his life.

The friar said nothing, but hoisted Robin on his broad back and marched

into the river. Not a word was spoken till they reached the other

side, when Robin leaped lightly down, and was going on his way when the

friar stopped him. "Not so fast, my fine fellow," said he. "It is my

turn now, and you shall take me across the river, or woe will betide

you."

So Robin carried him, and when they had reached the side from which

they had started, he set down the friar and jumped for the second time

on his back, and bade him take him whence he had come. The friar

strode into the stream with his burden, but as soon as they got to the

middle he bent his head and Robin fell into the water. "Now you can

sink or swim as you like," said the friar, as he stood and laughed.

[Illustration: Friar Tuck upsets Robin Hood]

Robin Hood swam to a bush of golden broom, and pulled himself out of

the water, and while the friar was scrambling out Robin fitted an arrow

to his bow and let fly at him. But the friar quickly held up his

shield, and the arrow fell harmless.

"Shoot on, my fine fellow, shoot on all day if you like," shouted the

friar, and Robin shot till his arrows were gone, but always missed his

mark. Then they took their swords, and at four of the afternoon they

were still fighting.

By this time Robin's strength was wearing, and he felt he could not

fight much more. "A boon, a boon!" cried he. "Let me but blow three

blasts on my horn, and I will thank you on my bended knees for it."

The friar told him to blow as many blasts as he liked, and in an

instant the forest echoed with his horn; it was but a few minutes

before "half a hundred yeomen were racing over the lea". The friar

stared when he saw them; then, turning to Robin, he begged of him a

boon also, and leave being granted he gave three whistles, which were

followed by the noise of a great crashing through the trees, as fifty

great dogs bounded towards him.

"Here's a dog for each of your men," said the friar, "and I myself for

you"; but the dogs did not listen to his words, for two of them rushed

at Robin, and tore his mantle of Lincoln green from off his back. His

men were too busy defending themselves to take heed of their master's

plight, for every arrow shot at a dog was caught and held in the

creature's mouth.

Robin's men were not used to fight with dogs, and felt they were

getting beaten. At last Little John bade the friar call off his dogs,

and as he did not do so at once he let fly some arrows, which this time

left half a dozen dead on the ground.

"Hold, hold, my good fellow," said the friar, "till your master and I

can come to a bargain," and when the bargain was made this was how it

ran. That the friar was to forswear Fountains Abbey and join Robin

Hood, and that he should be paid a golden noble every Sunday throughout

the year, besides a change of clothes on each holy day.

This Friar had kept Fountains Dale

Seven long years or more,

There was neither Knight, nor Lord, nor Earl

Could make him yield before.

But now he became one of the most famous members of Robin Hood's men

under the name of Friar Tuck.

PART IX.

HOW ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN FELL OUT.

One Whitsunday morning, when the sun was shining and the birds singing,

Robin Hood called to Little John to come with him into Nottingham to

hear Mass. As was their custom, they took their bows, and on the way

Little John proposed that they should shoot a match with a penny for a

wager.

Robin, who held that he himself shot better than any man living,

laughed in scorn, and told Little John that he should have three tries

to his master's one, which John without more ado accepted.

But Robin soon repented both of his offer and his scorn, for Little

John speedily won five shillings, whereat Robin became angry and smote

Little John with his hand.

Little John was not the man to bear being treated so, and he told Robin

roundly that he would never more own him for master, and straightway

turned back into the wood.

At this Robin was ashamed of what he had done, but his pride would not

suffer him to say so, and he continued his way to Nottingham, and

entered the Church of St. Mary, not without secret fears, for the

Sheriff of the town was ever his enemy. However, there he was and

there he meant to stay.

He knelt down before the great cross in the sight of all the people,

but none knew him save one monk only, and he stole out of church and

ran to the Sheriff, and bade him come quickly and take his foe.

The Sheriff was not slow to do the monk's bidding, and, calling his men

to follow him, he marched to the church. The noise they made in

entering caused Robin to look round. "Alas, alas," he said to himself,

"now miss I Little John."

But he drew his two-handed sword and laid about him in such wise that

twelve of the Sheriff's men lay dead before him. Then Robin found

himself face to face with the Sheriff, and gave him a fierce blow; but

his sword broke on the Sheriff's head, and he had shot away all his

arrows. So the men closed round him, and bound his arms.

Ill news travels fast, and not many hours had passed before the

foresters heard that their master was in prison. They wept and moaned

and wrung their hands, and seemed to have gone suddenly mad, till

Little John bade them pluck up their hearts and help him to deal with

the monk.

PART X.

The next morning Little John hid himself, and waited with a comrade,

Much by name, till he saw the monk riding along the road, with a page

behind him, carrying letters from the Sheriff to the King telling of

Robin's capture.

"Whence come you?" asked Little John, going up to the monk, "and can

you give us tidings of a false outlaw named Robin Hood, who was taken

prisoner yesterday? He robbed both me and my fellow of twenty marks,

and glad should we be to hear of his undoing."

"He robbed me, too," said the monk, "of a hundred pounds and more, but

I have laid hands on him, and for that you may thank me."

"I thank you so much that, with your leave, I and my friend will bear

you company," answered Little John; "for in this forest are many wild

men who own Robin Hood for leader, and you ride along this road at the

peril of your life."

They went on together, talking the while, when suddenly Little John

seized the horse by the head and pulled down the monk by his hood.

"He was my master," said Little John,

"That you have brought to bale,

Never shall you come at the King

For to tell him that tale."

At these words the monk uttered loud cries, but Little John took no

heed of him, and smote off his head, as Much had already smitten off

that of the page, lest he should carry the news of what had happened

back to the Sheriff. After this they buried the bodies, and, taking

the letters, carried them themselves to the King.

When they arrived at the Palace, in the presence of the King, Little

John fell on his knees and held the letter out. "God save you, my

liege lord," he said; and the King unfolded the letters and read them.

"There never was yeoman in Merry England I longed so sore to see," he

said. "But where is the monk that should have brought these letters?"

"He died by the way," answered Little John; and the King asked no more

questions.

Twenty pounds each he ordered his treasurer to give to Much and to

Little John, and made them yeomen of the crown. After which he handed

his own seal to Little John and ordered him to bear it to the Sheriff,

and bid him without delay bring Robin Hood unhurt into his presence.

Little John did as the King bade him, and the Sheriff, at sight of the

seal, gave him and Much welcome, and set a feast before them, at which

John led him to drink heavily. Soon he fell asleep, and then the two

outlaws stole softly to the prison. Here John ran the porter through

the body for trying to stop his entrance, and, taking the keys, hunted

through the cells until he had found Robin. Thrusting a sword into his

hand Little John whispered to his master to follow him, and they crept

along till they reached the lowest part of the city wall, from which

they jumped and were safe and free.

"Now, farewell," said Little John, "I have done you a good turn for an

ill." "Not so," answered Robin Hood, "I make you master of my men and

me," but Little John would hear nothing of it. "I only wish to be your

comrade, and thus it shall be," he replied.

"Little John has beguiled us both," said the King, when he heard of the

adventure.

PART XI.

HOW THE KING VISITED ROBIN HOOD.

Now the King had no mind that Robin Hood should do as he willed, and

called his Knights to follow him to Nottingham, where they would lay

plans how best to take captive the felon. Here they heard sad tales of

Robin's misdoings, and how of the many herds of wild deer that had been

wont to roam the forest in some places scarce one remained. This was

the work of Robin Hood and his merry men, on whom the King swore

vengeance with a great oath.

"I would I had this Robin Hood in my hands," cried he, "and an end

should soon be put to his doings." So spake the King; but an old

Knight, full of days and wisdom, answered him and warned him that the

task of taking Robin Hood would be a sore one, and best let alone.

The King, who had seen the vanity of his hot words the moment that he

had uttered them, listened to the old man, and resolved to bide his

time, if perchance some day Robin should fall into his power.

All this time, and for six weeks later that he dwelt in Nottingham, the

King could hear nothing of Robin, who seemed to have vanished into the

earth with his merry men, though one by one the deer were vanishing too!

At last one day a forester came to the King, and told him that if he

would see Robin he must come with him and take five of his best

Knights. The King eagerly sprang up to do his bidding, and the six men

clad in monks' clothes mounted their palfreys and rode down to the

Abbey, the King wearing an Abbot's broad hat over his crown, and

singing as he passed through the green wood.

Suddenly at the turn of a path Robin and his archers appeared before

them.

"By your leave, Sir Abbot," said Robin, seizing the King's bridle, "you

will stay a while with us. Know that we are yeomen, who live upon the

King's deer, and other food have we none. Now you have abbeys and

churches, and gold in plenty; therefore give us some of it, in the name

of holy charity."

"I have no more than forty pounds with me," answered the King, "but

sorry I am it is not a hundred, for you should have had it all."

So Robin took the forty pounds, and gave half to his men, and then told

the King he might go on his way. "I thank you," said the King, "but I

would have you know that our liege lord has bid me bear you his seal,

and pray you to come to Nottingham."

At this message Robin bent his knee.

"I love no man in all the world

So well as I do my King";

he cried, "and Sir Abbot, for thy tidings, which fill my heart with

joy, to-day thou shalt dine with me, for love of my King". Then he led

the King into an open place, and Robin took a horn and blew it loud,

and at its blast seven score of young men came speedily to do his will.

"They are quicker to do his bidding than my men are to do mine," said

the King to himself.

Speedily the foresters set out the dinner, venison, and white bread,

and the good red wine, and Robin and Little John served the King.

"Make good cheer," said Robin, "Abbot, for charity, and then you shall

see what sort of life we lead, that so you may tell our King."

When he had finished eating, the archers took their bows, and hung

rose-garlands up with a string, and every man was to shoot through the

garland. If he failed, he should have a buffet on the head from Robin.

Good bowmen as they were, few managed to stand the test. Little John

and Will Scarlett, and Much, all shot wide of the mark, and at length

no one was left in but Robin himself and Gilbert of the Wide Hand.

Then Robin fired his last bolt, and it fell three fingers from the

garland. "Master," said Gilbert, "you have lost, stand forth and take

your punishment."

"I will take it," answered Robin, "but, Sir Abbot, I pray you that I

may suffer it at your hands."

The King hesitated. "It did not become him," he said, "to smite such a

stout yeoman," but Robin bade him smite on; so he turned up his sleeve,

and gave Robin such a buffet on the head that he rolled upon the ground.

"There is pith in your arm," said Robin. "Come, shoot a main with me."

And the King took up a bow, and in so doing his hat fell back and Robin

saw his face.

[Illustration: There is pith in your arm said Robin Hood]

"My lord the King of England, now I know you well," cried he, and he

fell on his knees and all the outlaws with him. "Mercy I ask, my lord

the King, for my men and me."

"Mercy I grant," then said the King, "and therefore I came hither, to

bid you and your men leave the greenwood and dwell in my Court with me."

"So shall it be," answered Robin, "I and my men will come to your

Court, and see how your service liketh us."

PART XII.

ROBIN AT COURT.

"Have you any green cloth," asked the King, "that you could sell to

me?" and Robin brought out thirty yards and more, and clad the King and

his men in coats of Lincoln green. "Now we will all ride to

Nottingham," said he, and they went merrily, shooting by the way.

The people of Nottingham saw them coming, and trembled as they watched

the dark mass of Lincoln green drawing near over the fields. "I fear

lest our King be slain," whispered one to another, "and if Robin Hood

gets into the town there is not one of us whose life is safe"; and

every man, woman, and child made ready to fly.

The King laughed out when he saw their fright, and called them back.

Right glad were they to hear his voice, and they feasted and made

merry. A few days later the King returned to London, and Robin dwelt

in his Court for twelve months. By that time he had spent a hundred

pounds, for he gave largely to the Knights and Squires he met, and

great renown he had for his open-handedness.

But his men, who had been born under the shadow of the forest, could

not live amid streets and houses. One by one they slipped away, till

only Little John and Will Scarlett were left. Then Robin himself grew

home-sick, and at the sight of some young men shooting, he thought upon

the time when he was accounted the best archer in all England, and went

straightway to the King and begged for leave to go on a pilgrimage to

Bernisdale.

"I may not say you nay," answered the King, "seven nights you may be

gone and no more." And Robin thanked him, and that evening set out for

the greenwood.

It was early morning when he reached it at last, and listened thirstily

to the notes of singing birds, great and small.

"It seems long since I was here," he said to himself; "it would give me

great joy if I could bring down a deer once more;" and he shot a great

hart, and blew his horn, and all the outlaws of the forest came

flocking round him. "Welcome," they said, "our dear master, back to

the greenwood tree," and they threw off their caps and fell on their

knees before him in delight at his return.

PART XIII.

THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD.

For two and twenty years Robin Hood dwelt in Sherwood Forest after he

had run away from Court, and naught that the King could say would tempt

him back again. At the end of that time he fell ill; he neither ate

nor drank, and had no care for the things he loved, "I must go to merry

Kirkley," said he, "and have my blood let."

But Will Scarlett, who heard his words, spoke roundly to him. "Not by

my leave, nor without a hundred bowmen at your back. For there abides

an evil man, who is sure to quarrel with you, and you will need us

badly."

"If you are afraid, Will Scarlett, you may stay at home, for me," said

Robin, "and in truth no man will I take with me, save Little John only,

to carry my bow."

"Bear your bow yourself, master, and I will bear mine, and we will

shoot for a penny as we ride."

"Very well, let it be so," said Robin, and they went on merrily enough

till they came to some women weeping sorely near a stream.

"What is the matter, good wives?" said Robin Hood.

"We weep for Robin Hood and his dear body, which to-day must let

blood," was their answer.

"Pray why do you weep for me?" asked Robin; "the Prioress is the

daughter of my aunt, and my cousin, and well I know she would not do me

harm for all the world."

And he passed on, with Little John at his side.

Soon they reached the Priory, where they were let in by the Prioress

herself, who bade them welcome heartily, and not the less because Robin

handed her twenty pounds in gold as payment for his stay, and told her

if he cost her more she was to let him know of it.

Then she began to bleed him, and for long Robin said nothing, giving

her credit for kindness and for knowing her art, but at length so much

blood came from him that he suspected treason.

He tried to open the door, for she had left him alone in the room, but

it was locked fast, and while the blood was still flowing he could not

escape from the casement. So he lay down for many hours, and none came

near him, and at length the blood stopped.

Slowly Robin uprose and staggered to the lattice-window, and blew

thrice on his horn; but the blast was so low, and so little like what

Robin was wont to give, that Little John, who was watching for some

sound, felt that his master must be nigh to death.

At this thought he started to his feet, and ran swiftly to the Priory.

He broke the locks of all the doors that stood between him and Robin

Hood, and soon entered the chamber where his master lay, white, with

nigh all his blood gone from him.

"I crave a boon of you, dear master," cried Little John.

"And what is that boon," said Robin Hood, "which Little John begs of

me?" And Little John answered, "It is to burn fair Kirkley Hall, and

all the nunnery."

[Illustration: Robin Hood shoots his last arrow]

But Robin Hood, in spite of the wrong that had been done him, would not

listen to Little John's cry for revenge. "I never hurt a woman in all

my life," he said, "nor a man that was in her company. But now my time

is done, that know I well; so give me my bow and a broad arrow, and

wheresoever it falls there shall my grave be digged. Lay a green sod

under my head and another at my feet, and put beside me my bow, which

ever made sweetest music to my ears, and see that green and gravel make

my grave. And, Little John, take care that I have length enough and

breadth enough to lie in." So he loosened his last arrow from the

string and then died, and where the arrow fell Robin was buried.

WAYLAND THE SMITH.

PART I.

Right up to the north of Norway and Sweden, looking straight at the

Pole, lies the country of Finmark. It is very cold and very bare, and

for half the year very dark; but inside its stony mountains are rich

stores of metals, and the strong, ugly men of the country spent their

lives in digging out the ore and in working it.

Like many people who dwell in mountains, they saw and heard strange

things, which were unknown to the inhabitants of the lands to the south.

Now in Finmark there were three brothers whose names were Slagfid,

Eigil, and Wayland, all much handsomer and cleverer than their

neighbours. They had some money of their own, but this did not prevent

them working as hard as anyone else; and as they were either very

clever or very lucky, they were soon in a fair way to grow rich.

One day they went to a new part of the mountains which was yet

untouched, and began to throw up the earth with their pick-axes; but

instead of the iron they expected to see, they found they had lighted

upon a mine of gold.

This discovery pleased them greatly and their blows became stronger and

harder, for the gold was deep in the rock and it was not easy to get it

out.

At last a huge lump rolled out at their feet, and when they picked it

up they saw three stones shining in it, one red and one blue and one

green. They took it home to their mother, who began to weep bitterly

at the sight of it. "What is the matter?" asked her sons anxiously,

for they knew things lay open to her which were hidden from others.

"Ah, my sons," she said as soon as she could speak, "you will have much

happiness, but I shall be forced to part with you. Therefore I shed

tears, for I hoped that only death would divide us! Green is the

grass, blue is the sky, red are the roses, golden is the maiden. The

Noras" (for so in that country they called the Fates) "beckon you to a

land where green fields lie under a blue sky, fields where

golden-haired maidens lie among the flowers."

Great was the joy of the three brothers when they heard the words of

their mother; for they hated the looks of the women who dwelt about

them, and longed to see the maidens of the south. Next morning they

rose early and buckled on their swords and coats of mail, and fastened

on their heads helmets that they had made the day before from the lump

of gold. In the centre of Slagfid's helmet was the green stone, and in

the centre of Eigil's was the blue stone, and in the centre of

Wayland's was the red stone; and when they were ready they put their

reindeers into their sledges, and set out over the snow.

PART II.

When they reached the mountains where only yesterday they had been

digging, they saw by the light of the moon a host of little men running

to meet them. They were dressed all in grey, except for their caps,

which were red; they had red eyes, too, and black tongues, which never

ceased chattering.

These were the mountain elves, and when they came near they formed

themselves into a fairy ring, and sang while they danced round it;--

Will you leave us? Will you leave us?

Slagfid, Eigil, and Wayland, sons of a King.

Is not the emerald better than grass?

Is not the ruby better than roses?

Is not the sapphire better than the sky?

Why do you leave the mountains of Finmark?

But Eigil was impatient and struck his reindeer, that willing beast

which flies like the wind and needs not the touch of a whip. It

bounded forward in surprise, and knocked down one of the elves that

stood in its path. But the hands of his brothers laid hold of the

reins, and stopped the reindeer, and sang again:--

The Finlander's world, the Finlander's joy

Lies under the earth;

Seek not without what we offer within,

Despise not the elves small and dark though they be.

The best is within, do not seek it without.

The Finlander's world, the Finlander's joy,

Lies under the earth.

Slagfid struck his reindeer. It bounded forward and struck down an elf

who stood in its road. Then his brothers stood in its path, and

stopped the reindeer, and sang:--

Because Slagfid struck his reindeer,

Because Eigil struck his reindeer,

Our hatred shall follow you.

A time of weal, a time of woe, a time of grief, a time of joy.

Because Wayland also forsook us,

Though he struck not the reindeer,

A time of weal, a time of woe, a time of grief, a time of joy.

Farewell, O Finlanders, sons of a King.

Their voices died away as they crossed a bright strip of moonlight,

which lay between them and the mountains and so they were seen no more.

The brothers thought no more about them or their words, but went

swiftly on their way south, sleeping at night in their reindeer skins.

After many days they came to a lake full of fish, in a place which was

called the Valley of Wolves, because of the number of wolves which hid

there. But the Finlanders did not mind the wolves, and built a house

close to the lake, and hunted bears, and caught fish through holes in

the ice, till winter had passed away and spring had come. Then one day

they noticed that the sky was blue and the earth covered with flowers.

By-and-by they noticed something more, and that was that three maidens

were sitting on the grass, spinning flax on the bank of a stream.

Their eyes were blue, and their skins were white as the snow on the

mountains, while instead of the mantles of swansdown they generally

wore, golden hair covered their shoulders.

The hearts of the brothers beat as they looked on the maidens, who were

such as they had often dreamed of, but had never seen; and as they drew

near they found to their surprise that the maidens were dressed each in

red, green, and blue garments, and the meadow was so thickly dotted

with yellow flowers that it seemed as if it were a mass of solid gold.

[Illustration: The three women by the stream]

"Hail, noble princes! Hail, Slagfid, Eigil, and Wayland," sang the

maidens.

"Swanvite, Alvilda, and Alruna are sent by the Norns,

To bring joy to the princes of Finmark"

Then the tongues of the young men were unloosed, and Slagfid married

Swanvite, Eigil Alruna, and Wayland Alvilda.

PART III.

For nine years they all lived on the shores of the lake, and no people

in the world were as happy as these six; till one morning the three

wives stood before their husbands and said with weeping eyes:--

"Dear lords, the time has now come when we must bid you farewell, for

we are not allowed to stay with you any longer.. We are Norns--or, as

some call us, Valkyrie. Nine years of joy are granted to us, but these

are paid for by nine years during which we hover round the combatants

on every field of battle. But bear your souls in patience, for on

earth all things have an end, and in nine years we will return to be

your wives as before."

"But we shall begetting old then," answered the brothers, "and you will

have forgotten us. Stay now, we pray you, for we love you well."

"_We_ are not mortals to grow old," said the Norns, "and true love does

not grow old either. Still, we do not wish you to fall sick with

grieving, so we leave you these three keys, with which you may open the

mountain, and busy yourselves by digging out the treasures it contains.

By the time the nine years are over you will have become rich and men

of renown." So they laid down the keys and vanished.

For a long while the young men only left their houses to seek for food,

so dreary had the Valley of Wolves become. At last Slagfid and Eigil

could bear it no longer, and declared they would travel through the

whole world till they found their wives; but Wayland, the youngest,

determined to stay at home.

"You would do much better to remain where you are," said he. "You do

not know in which direction to look for them, and it is useless to seek

on earth for those who fly through the air. You will only lose

yourselves, and starve, and when the nine years are ended who can tell

where you may be?"

But his words fell on deaf ears; for Slagfid and Eigil merely filled

their wallets with food and their horns with drink, and prepared to

take leave of their brother. Wayland embraced them weeping, for he

feared that he should never more see them, and once again he implored

them to give up their quest. Slagfid and Eigil only shook their heads.

"We have no rest, night or day, without them," they said, and they

begged him to look after their property till they came back again.

Wayland saw that more words would be wasted, so he walked with them to

the edge of the forest, where their ways would part. Then Slagfid

said: "Our fathers, when they went a journey, left behind them a token

by which it might be known whether they were dead or alive, and I will

do so also." So he stamped heavily on the soft ground, and added, "As

long as this footmark remains sharp and clear, I shall be safe. If it

is filled with water I shall be drowned; if with blood, I shall have

fallen in battle. But if it is filled with earth an illness will have

killed me, and I shall lie under the ground." Thus he did, and Eigil

did likewise. Then they cut stout sticks to aid their journeys, and

went their ways. Wayland stood gazing after them as long as they were

in sight, and then he went sadly home.

PART IV.

Slagfid and Eigil walked steadily on through the day, and when evening

came they reached a stream bordered with trees, where they took off

their golden helmets and sat down to rest and eat. They had gone far

that day and were tired, and drank somewhat heavily, so that they knew

not what they did. "If I lose my Swanvite," said Slagfid, "I am

undone. She is the fairest woman that sun ever looked on, or that man

ever loved."

"It is a lie," answered Eigil. "I know one lovelier still, and her

name is Alruna. Odin does not love Freya so fondly as Eigil adores

her."

"It is no lie," cried Slagfid, "and may shame fall on him who slanders

me."

"And I," answered Eigil, "stand to what I have said, and declare that

you are the liar." At this they both drew their swords and fell

fighting, till Slagfid struck Eigil's helmet so hard that the jewel

flew into a thousand pieces, while Eigil himself fell backwards into

the river.

Slagfid stood still, leaning on his sword and looking at the river into

which his brother had fallen. Suddenly the trees behind him rustled,

and a voice came out of them, saying, "A time of weal, a time of woe, a

time of tears, a time of death"; and though he could see nothing he

remembered the mountain elves, and thought how true their prophecy had

been. "I have slain my brother," he said to himself, "my wife has

forsaken me; I am miserable and alone. What shall I do? Go back to

Wayland, or follow Eigil into the river? No. After all I may find my

wife. The Norns do not always bring misfortune."

As he spoke a light gleamed in the darkness of the night, and, looking

up, Slagfid saw it was shed by a bright star which seemed to be drawing

nearer, and the nearer it drew its shape seemed to change into a human

figure. Then Slagfid knew that it was his wife, Swanvite, floating

just over his head and encircled by a rim of clear green light.

He could not speak for joy, but held out his arms to her. She beckoned

to him to follow her, and Slagfid, flinging away his sword and coat of

mail, began to climb the mountain.

Half way up it seemed to him as if a hand from behind was pulling him

back, and turning he fancied he beheld his mother and heard her say:

"My son, seek not after vain shadows, which yet may be your ruin."

The words caused Slagfid to pause for a moment. Then the figure of

Swanvite danced before him and beckoned to him again, and his mother

was forgotten. There were rivers to swim, precipices to climb, chasms

to leap, but he passed them all gladly, till at last he noticed that

the higher he got the less the figure seemed like Swanvite.

He felt frightened and tried to turn back, but he could not. On he had

to go, till just as he reached the top of the mountain the first rays

of the sun appeared above the horizon, and he saw that, instead of

Swanvite, he had followed a black elf.

He paused and looked over the green plain that lay thousands of feet

below him, cool and inviting after the stony mountain up which he had

come. "A time of death," whispered the black elf in his ear, and

Slagfid flung himself over the precipice.

PART V.

After his brothers had forsaken him Wayland went to bed lonely and sad;

but the next morning he got up and looked at the three keys that the

Noras had left behind them. One was of copper, one was of iron, and

one was of gold.

Taking up the copper one, he walked to the mountain till he reached a

flat wall of rock. He laid his key against it, and immediately the

mountain flew open and showed a cave where everything was green. Green

emeralds studded the rocks, green crystals hung from the ceiling or

formed rows of pillars, even the copper which made the walls of the

cave had a coating of green. Wayland broke off a huge projecting lump

and left the cave, which instantly closed up so that not a crack

remained to tell where the opening had been.

He carried the lump home, and put it into the fire till all the earth

and stones which clung to it were burned away; and then he fashioned

the pure copper into a helmet, and in the front of the helmet he set

three of his largest emeralds.

This occupied some days, and when it was done he took the iron key, and

went to another mountain, and laid the key against the rock, which flew

open like the other one. But now the walls were of iron, which shone

like blue steel, while sapphires glittered in the midst.

Wayland gazed with wonder at all these things; then he broke off a

piece of the iron, and carried it home with him.

For many days after he busied himself in forging a sword that was so

supple he could wind it round his body, and so sharp it could cut

through a rock as if it had been a stick. In the handle and in the

sheath he set some of the finest sapphires that he had brought away

with him.

When all was finished he laid the sword aside, and returned to the

mountain, with the golden key. This time the mountain parted, and he

saw before him an archway, with a glimpse of the sea in the distance.

Before the entrance roses were lying, and inside the golden walls

sparkled with rubies, while branches of red coral filled every crevice.

Vines climbed around the pillars, and bore large bunches of red grapes.

Wayland stood long, looking at these marvels; then he plucked some of

the grapes, broke off a lump of gold, and set out home again.

Next day he began to make himself a golden breastplate, and in it he

placed the jewels, and it was so bright that you could have seen the

glitter a mile off.

After he had tried all the three keys, and found out the secrets of the

mountain, Wayland felt dull. So his mind went back to his brothers,

and he wondered how they had fared all this time.

The first thing he did was to go to the edge of the forest, and see if

he could find the two footprints they had left.

He soon arrived at the spot where they had taken farewell of each

other, but a blue pool of water covered the trace of Eigil's foot. He

turned to look at the impression made by Slagfid, but on that fresh

green grass had sprung up over it, and on a birch-tree near it a bird

had perched, which sang a mournful song.

Then Wayland knew that his brothers were dead, and he returned to his

hut, grieving sore.

PART VI.

It was a long time before Wayland could bring himself to go out, so

great was his sorrow; but at last he roused himself from his misery,

and went to the mountain for more gold, meaning to work hard till the

nine years should be over and he should get his wife back again.

All day long he stood in his forge, smelting and hammering, till he had

made hundreds of suits of armour and thousands of swords, and his fame

travelled far, so that all men spoke of his industry.

At last he grew tired of making armour, and hammered a number of gold

rings, which he strung on strips of bark, and as he hammered he thought

of Alvilda his wife, and how the rings would gleam on her arms when

once she came back again.

Now at this time Nidud the Little reigned over Sweden, and was hated by

his people, for he was vain and cowardly and had many other bad

qualities. It came to his ears that away in the forests lived a man

who was very rich, and worked all day long in pure gold.

The King was one of those people who could not bear to see anyone with

things which he did not himself possess, and he began to make plans how

to get hold of Wayland's wealth.

At length he called together his chief counsellors, and said to them:

"I hear a man has come to my kingdom who is called Wayland, famous in

many lands for his skill in sword-making. I have set men to inquire

after him, and I have found that when first he came here he was poor

and of no account, so he must have grown rich either by magic or else

by violence. I command, therefore, that my stoutest men-at-arms should

buckle on their iron breastplates and ride in the dead of night to

Wayland's house, and seize his goods and his person."

"King Nidud," answered one of the courtiers, "that you should take

himself and his goods is well, but why send a troop of soldiers against

one man? If he is no sorcerer, then a single one of your soldiers

could take him captive; but if, on the other hand, he is a magician,

then a whole army could do nothing with him against his will."

At this reply the King flew in a rage, and, snatching up a sword, ran

it through his counsellor's body; then, turning to the rest, told them

that they would suffer the same fate if they refused to submit to his

will.

So the men-at-arms put on all their armour, and, mounting their horses,

set forth at sunset to Wayland's house, King Nidud riding at their

head. The door stood wide open, and they entered quietly, in deadly

fear lest Wayland should attack them.

But no one was inside, and they looked about, their eyes dazzled by the

gold on the walls. The King gazed with wonder and delight at the long

string of golden rings, and, slipping the finest off a strip of bark,

placed it on his finger.

At that moment steps were heard in the outer court, and the King

hastily desired his followers to hide themselves, and not to stir till

he signed to them to do so.

In another moment Wayland stood in the doorway, carrying on his

shoulders a bear which he had killed with his spear and was bringing

home for supper.

He was both tired and hungry, for he had been hunting all day; but he

had first to skin the animal, and make a bright fire, before he could

cut off some steaks and cook them at the end of the spear. Then he

poured some mead into a cup and drank, as he always did, to the memory

of his brothers. After that he spread out his bear's skin to dry in

the wind, and this done he stretched himself out on his bed and went to

sleep.

PART VII.

King Nidud waited till he thought all was safe, then crept forth with

his men, who held heavy chains in their hands wherewith to chain the

sleeping Wayland. But the task was harder than they expected, for he

started up in wrath, asking why he should be treated so. "If you want

my gold, take it and release me. It is useless fighting against such

odds."

"I am no robber," said Nidud, "but I am your King."

"You do me much honour," replied Wayland, "but what have I done to be

loaded with chains like this?"

"Wayland, I know you well," said Nidud. "Poor enough you were when you

came from Finmark, and now your jewels are finer and your drinking cups

heavier than mine."

"If I am indeed a thief," answered Wayland, "then you do well to load

me with chains and lead me bound into your dungeons; but if not, I ask

again, Why do you misuse me?"

"Riches do not come of themselves," said Nidud, "and if you are not a

thief, then you must be a magician and must be watched."

"If I were a magician," answered Wayland, "it would be easy for me to

burst these bonds. I know not that I have ever wronged any man, but if

he can prove it, I will restore it to him tenfold. As to the gifts

that may come from the gods, no man should grudge them to his fellow.

Therefore release me, O King, and I will pay whatever ransom you may

fix."

But Nidud only bade his guards take him away, and Wayland, seeing that

resistance availed nothing, went with them quietly.

By the King's orders he was thrown into a dark hole fifteen fathoms

under ground, and the soldiers then came and robbed the house of all

its treasures, which they took to the Palace. The ring which Wayland

had made for Alvilda, Nidud gave to his daughter, Banvilda.

One day the Queen was in her own room, when the King came in to ask her

advice as to how best to deal with Wayland, as he did not think it wise

to put him to death, for he hoped to make some profit out of his skill.

"His heart will beat high," said the Queen, "when he sees his good

sword, and beholds his ring on Banvilda's finger. But cut asunder the

sinews of his strength, so that he can never more escape from us, and

keep him a prisoner."

The King was pleased with the Queen's words, and sent soldiers to carry

Wayland to a tower on an island. The sinews of his legs were cut so

that he could not swim away; but they gave him his boots, and the

chests of gold they had found in his house. Here he was left, with

nothing to do from morning till night, but to make helmets and drinking

cups and splendid armour for the King.

PART VIII.

On this island Wayland remained for a whole year, chained to a stone

and visited by no one but the King, who came from time to time to see

how his prisoner was getting on with a suit of golden armour he had

been ordered to make.

The shield was also of gold, and on it Wayland had beaten out a history

of the gods and their great deeds. He was very miserable, for the hope

of revenge which had kept him alive seemed as far off as ever in its

fulfilment, and finding a sword he had lately forged lying close to his

hand, he seized it, with the intent of putting an end to his wretched

life.

He had hardly stretched out his hand, when a bird began to sing at the

iron bars of his window, while the evening sun shone into his prison.

"I should like to see the world once more," thought he, and, raising

himself on the stone to which his chain was fastened, he was able to

look at what lay beneath him.

The sea washed the base of the rock on which the tower was built, and

on a neck of land a little way off some children were playing before

the door of a hut. Everything was bathed in red light from the glow of

the setting sun.

Wayland stood quite still on top of the stone, gazing at the scene with

all his eyes, yet thinking of the land of his birth, which was so

different. Then he looked again at the sea, which was already turning

to steel, and in the distance he saw something moving on the waves.

As it came nearer he discovered it was a water sprite, singing a song

which blended with the murmur of the waves and the notes of the bird.

And the song put new life and courage into his heart, for it told him

that if he would endure and await the pleasure of the gods, joy would

be his one day.

The sprite finished her song, and smiled up at Wayland at the window

before turning and swimming over the waves till she dived beneath them.

That same instant the bird flew away, and the moon was covered by a

cloud. But Wayland's heart was cheered, and when he lay down to rest

he slept quietly.

Some days later the King paid another visit, and suddenly espied the

three keys which had been hidden in a corner with some of Wayland's

tools.

He at once asked Wayland what they were, and when he would not tell him

the King grew so angry that, seizing an axe, he declared that he would

put his prisoner to death unless he confessed all he knew. There was

no help for it, and Wayland had to say how he came by them and what

wonders they wrought. The King heard him with delight and went away,

taking the keys with him.

PART IX.

No time was lost in preparing for a journey to the mountains, and when

the King reached the spot described by Wayland he divided his followers

into three parties, sending two to await him some distance off, and

keeping the third to enter the mountain with himself, if the copper key

did the wonders it had done before.

So he gave it to one of the bravest of his men, and told him to lay it

against the side of the mountain. The man obeyed, and instantly the

mountain split from top to bottom.

The King bade them enter, never doubting that rich spoils awaited him;

but instead, the men sank into a green marsh, which swallowed up many

of them, while the rest were stung to death by the green serpents

hanging from the roof. Those who, like the King, were near the

entrance alone escaped.

As soon as he had recovered from the terror into which this adventure

had thrown him, he commanded that it should be kept very secret from

the other two parties, and desired Storbiorn his Chamberlain, to take

the key of iron and the key of gold and deliver them to the leaders of

the divisions he had left behind, with orders to try their fortune in

different parts of the mountain.

"Give the keys to me, my lord King," answered Storbiorn, "and I shall

know what to do with them. These magicians may do their worst, my

heart will not beat one whit the faster; and I shall see all that

happens."

So he went and gave his message to the two divisions, and one stayed

behind while Storbiorn went to the mountain with the other.

When they arrived, the man who held the key laid it against the rock,

which burst asunder, and half the men entered at Storbiorn's command.

Suddenly an icy blue stream poured upon them from the depths of the

cavern, and drowned most of them before they had time to fly. Only

those behind escaped, and Storbiorn bade them go instantly to the King

and tell him what had happened.

Then he went to the third troop and marched with them to the rock,

where he gave the golden key to one of the men, and ordered him to try

it.

The rock flew open at once, and Storbiorn told the men to enter, taking

care, however, to keep behind himself. They obeyed and found

themselves in a lovely golden cave, whose walls were lit up by

thousands of precious stones of every hue.

There was neither sight nor sound to frighten them, and even Storbiorn,

when he saw the gold, forgot his prudence and his fears, and followed

them in.

In a moment a red fire burst out with a terrific noise, and clouds of

smoke poured over them, so that they fell down choked into the flames.

Only one man escaped, and he ran back as fast as he could to the King

to tell him of the fate of his army.

PART X.

All this time Wayland was working quietly in his island prison, waiting

for the day of his revenge. The suit of golden armour which the King

had commanded kept him busy day and night, and, besides the wonderful

shield with figures of the gods, he had wrought a coat of mail, a

helmet, and armour for the thighs, such as never had been seen before.

The King had invited all his great nobles to meet him at the Palace,

when he returned from the mountain, so that they might see his

wonderful armour and all the precious things he should bring with him

from the caverns.

When Nidud reached his Palace the Queen and Banvilda, their daughter,

came forth to meet him, and told him that the great hall was already

full of guests, expecting to see the wonders he had brought.

The King said little about his adventures, but went into the armoury to

put on his armour in order to appear before his nobles. Piece by piece

he fastened it, but he found the helmet so heavy that he could hardly

bear it on his head. However, he did not look properly dressed without

it, so he had to wear it, though it felt as if a whole mountain was

pressing on his forehead. Then, buckling on the sword which Wayland

had forged, he entered the hall, and seated himself on the throne.

The Earls were struck dumb by his splendour, and thought at first that

it was a god, till they looked under the helmet and saw the ugly little

man with the pale cowardly face. So they turned their eyes gladly on

the Queen and Princess, both tall and beautiful and glittering with

jewels, though inwardly they were not much better than the King.

A magnificent dinner made the nobles feel more at ease, and they begged

the King to tell them what man was so skilled in smith's work. Now

Nidud had drunk deeply, and longed to revenge himself on Wayland, whom

he held to have caused the loss of his army; so he gave the key of the

tower to one of his Earls, and bade him take two men and bring forth

Wayland, adding that if the next time he visited the tower he should

find a grain of gold missing, they should pay for it with their lives.

The three men got a boat, and rowed towards the tower, but on the way

one who, like the King, had drunk too much fell into the sea and was

drowned. The other two reached the tower in safety, and finding

Wayland, blackened with dust, busy at his forge, bade him come just as

he was to the boat.

With his hands bound they led him before the King, and said, "We have

done your desire, Sir King, and must now hasten back to look for

Grullorm, who fell into the sea".

"Leave him where he is," replied Nidud; "and in token of your obedience

to my orders I will give you each these golden chains."

The guests had not thought to see the man who had made such wonderful

armour helpless and a cripple, and said so to the King. "He was once

handsome and stately enough," answered Nidud, "but I have bowed his

stubborn head." And the Queen and her daughter laughed and said, "The

maidens of Finmark will hardly fancy a lover who cannot stand upright".

[Illustration: Wayland mocked by the Queen and Banvilda]

But Wayland stood as if he heard nothing, till the King's son snatched

a bone from the table and threw it at his head. Then his patience gave

way, and, seizing the bone, he beat Nidud about the head with it till

the helmet itself fell off.

The guests all took his side, and said that, though a cripple, he was

braver than many men whose legs were straight, and begged the King to

allow him to go back to his prison without being teased further.

But the King cried that Wayland had done mischief enough, and must now

be punished, and told them the story of his visit to the mountain and

the loss of his followers. "It would be a small punishment to put him

to death," he said, "for to so wretched a cripple death would be

welcome. He may use the gold that is left, but henceforth he shall

only have one eye to work with," and the Princess came forward and

carried out the cruel sentence herself. Wayland bore it all, saying

nothing, but praying the gods to grant him vengeance.

PART XI.

One night Wayland sat filled with grief and despair, looking out over

the sea, when he caught sight of two red lights, bobbing in his

direction. He watched them curiously till they vanished beneath the

tower.

Soon the key of the door turned, and two men, whom he knew to be the

King's sons, talked softly together. He kept very still, and heard one

say: "Let us first get as much from the chest as we can carry, then we

will put him to death, lest he should betray us to our father."

Then Wayland took a large sword which lay by his side and hid it behind

him, and he had scarcely done so when the princes entered the prison.

"Greeting to you," said they. "Nidud our father has gone into the

country, and as he is so greedy of wealth that he will give us none, we

have come here to get it for ourselves. Hand us the key and swear not

to tell our father, or you shall die."

"My good lords," answered Wayland, "your request is reasonable, and I

am not so foolish as to refuse it. Here is the key, and I will swear

not to betray you."

The brothers took the key, and opened the chest, which was still half

full of gold. It dazzled their eyes, and they both stooped down so as

to see it better. This was what Wayland had waited for, and, seizing

his sword, he cut off their heads, which fell into the chest. He then

dug a grave for the bodies in the floor of his dungeon. Afterwards he

dried the skulls, and made them into two drinking cups wrought with

gold. The eyes he set with precious stones, while the teeth he filed

till they were shaped like pearls, and strung like a necklace.

As soon as the King came back from his journey he paid a visit to

Wayland, who produced the drinking cups which he said were made of some

curious shells washed up in a gale.

After some days had passed, some sailors found the princes' boat, which

had drifted into the open sea. Their bodies, of course, were not to be

found, and the King ordered a splendid funeral feast to be prepared.

On this occasion the new drinking cups were filled with mead, and,

besides her necklace, Banvilda wore the ring which her father had taken

long ago from Wayland's house.

As was the custom, the feast lasted long, and the guests drank deeply

and grew merry. But at midnight their gaiety suddenly came to an end.

The King was drinking from the cup of mead, when he felt a violent pain

in his head and let the vessel fall. The hues of the armlets that the

Queen wore became so strange and dreadful that her eyes suffered agony

from looking at em, and she tore them from her arms; while Banvilda was

seized with such severe toothache that she could sit at table no

longer. The guests at once took leave, but it was not till the sun

rose that the pains of their hosts went away.

PART XII.

In the torture of toothache which she had endured during the night,

Banvilda had dashed her arm against the wall, and had broken some of

the ornaments off the ring.

She feared to tell her father, who would be sure to punish her, and was

in despair how to get the ring mended, when she caught sight of the

island on which Wayland's tower stood. "If I had not mocked at him he

might have helped me now," thought she.

No other way seemed to offer itself, and in the evening she loosened a

boat and began to row to the tower. On the way she met an old merman

with a long beard, floating on the waves who warned her not to go on;

but she paid no heed, and only rowed the faster.

[Illustration: The merman warns Banvilda in vain]

She entered the tower by a false key, and, holding the ring out to

Wayland, begged him to mend it as fast as possible, so that she might

return before she was missed. Wayland answered her with courtesy, and

promised to do his best, but said that she would have to blow the

bellows to keep the forge fire alight. "How comes it that these

bellows are sprinkled with blood?" asked Banvilda.

"It is the blood of two young sea dogs," answered Wayland; "they

troubled me for long, but I caught them when they least expected it.

But blow the bellows harder, I pray you, or I shall never be finished."

Banvilda did as she was told, but soon grew tired and thirsty, and

begged Wayland to give her something to drink. He mixed something

sweet in a cup, which she swallowed hastily, and soon fell fast asleep

on a bench. Then Wayland bound her hands, and placed her in the boat,

after which he cut the rope that held it and let it drift out to sea.

This done, he shut the door of the tower, and, taking a piece of gold,

he engraved on it the history of all that had happened, and put it

where it must meet the King's eye when next he came. "Now is my hour

come," he cried with joy, snatching his spear from the wall, but before

he could throw himself on it he heard a distant song and the notes of a

lute.

By this time the sun was high in the heavens, yet its brightness did

not hinder Wayland from seeing a large star, which was floating towards

him, and a brilliant rainbow spanned the sky. The flowers on the

island unfolded themselves as the star drew near, and he could smell

the smell of the roses on the shore.

And now Wayland saw it was no star, but the golden chariot of Freya the

goddess, whose blue mantle floated behind her till it was lost in the

blue of the sky. On her left was a maiden dressed in garlands of fresh

green leaves, and on her right was one clad in a garment of red.

[Illustration: The Chariot of Freya]

At the sight Wayland's heart beat high, for he thought of the lump of

gold set with jewels, which he and his brothers had found in the

mountain so long ago. Fairies fluttered round them, mermaids rose from

the depths of the sea to welcome them, and as Freya and her maidens

entered the prison Wayland saw that she who wore the red garment was

indeed Alvilda. "Wayland," said the goddess, "your time of woe is

past. You have suffered much and have avenged your wrongs, and now

Odin has granted my prayer that Alvilda shall stay by you for the rest

of your life, and when you die she shall carry you in her arms to the

country of Walhalla, where you shall forge golden armour and fashion

drinking horns for the gods."

When Freya had spoken, she beckoned to the green maiden, who held in

her hand a root and a knife. She cut pieces off the root and laid them

on Wayland's feet, and on his eye, then, placing some leaves from her

garland over the whole, she breathed gently on it. "Eyr the physician

has healed me," cried Wayland, and the fairies took him in their arms

and bore him across the waves to a bower in the forest, where he

dreamed that Alvilda and Slagfid and Eigil were all bending over him.

When he woke Alvilda was indeed there, and he seemed to catch glimpses

of his brothers amid the leaves of the trees. "Arise, my husband,"

said Alvilda, "and go straight to the Court of Nidud. He still sleeps,

and knows nothing. Throw this mantle on your shoulders, and they will

take you for his servant."

So Wayland went, and reached the royal chamber, and in his sleep the

King trembled, though he knew not that Wayland was near. "Awake,"

cried Wayland, and the King awoke, and asked who had dared to disturb

him thus.

"Be not angry," answered Wayland; "had you slain Wayland long ago, this

misfortune that I have to tell you of would never have happened."

"Do not name his name," said the King, "since he sent me those drinking

cups a burning fever has laid hold upon me."

"They were not shells, as he told you," answered Wayland, "but the

skulls of your two sons, Sir King. Their bodies you will find in

Wayland's tower. As for your daughter, she is tossing, bound, on the

wild waves of the sea. But now I, Wayland, have come to give you your

deathblow----" But before he could draw his sword fear had slain the

King yet more quickly.

So Wayland went back to Alvilda, and they went into another country,

where he became a famous smith, and he lived to a good old age; and

when he died he was carried to Walhalla, as Freya had promised.

SOME ADVENTURES OF WILLIAM SHORT NOSE.

PART I.

William Short Nose was also styled William of Orange, quite a different

man from the one who came to be King of England, although they both

took their title from the same small town in the South of France. This

William of Orange spent his life battling with the Saracens in the

south of France, and a very hard task he had, for their numbers seemed

endless, and as fast as one army was beaten another was gathered

together.

Now by a great effort the Saracens had been driven back to the south in

the year 732, but before a hundred years had passed they had again

crossed the Pyrenees and were streaming over France, south of the

Loire, and, what was worse, the men of Gascony were rising too.

Some one had to meet the enemy and crush the rebels, and of all the

subjects of King Louis no one was so fit to lead the army of the Franks

as William Short Nose, husband of the Lady Gibourc.

It was at the Aliscans that he met them, and a great host they were,

spreading over the country till whichever way you looked you saw men

flocking round the Golden Dragon, which was the banner of the Saracens.

But it was not Count William's way to think about numbers, and he

ordered his trumpeters to sound the charge. Spurring his horse, he

dashed from one part of the fight to the other, striking and killing as

he went, and heeding as little the wounds that he got as those that he

gave, and _they_ were many.

The Franks whom he led followed after him, and slew the Saracens as

they came on; but the Christians were in comparison but a handful, and

their enemies as the sands of the sea.

The young warriors whom William had brought with him were prisoners or

dying men, and from far he saw Vivian, whom he loved the best, charging

a multitude with his naked sword. "Montjoie! Montjoie!" cried he, "O

Bertrand, my cousin, come to my aid!"

Bertrand heard and pressed to his side. "Ride to the river," he said,

"and I will protect you with my life"; but Vivian was too weak even to

sit on his horse, and fell half fainting at Bertrand's feet.

At this moment there rode at them a large troop of Saracens, headed by

their King, Haucebier, and the Christian Knights knew that all was

lost. "It is too late now for me to think of life," said Vivian, "but

I will die fighting," and again they faced their enemies till

Bertrand's horse was killed under him. Then Vivian seized the horse of

a dead Saracen, and thrust the bridle into Bertrand's hand, "Fly, for

God's sake, it is your only chance. Where is my uncle? If he is dead

we have lost the battle."

But Bertrand did not fly, though every instant made the danger more

deadly. "If I forsake you, if I take flight," he said, "I shall bring

eternal shame upon myself."

"No, no," cried Vivian, "seek my uncle down there in the Aliscans, and

bring him to my aid."

"Never till my sword breaks," answered Bertrand, and laid about him

harder than ever. And to their joy they heard a war cry sounding in

their ears, and five Frankish Counts, cousins of Vivian and of

Bertrand, galloped up. Fight they did with all their might, but none

fought like Vivian. "Heavens! what a warrior!" cried the Counts as

they saw his blows, while the Saracens asked themselves if the man whom

they had killed at mid-day had been brought back to life by the help of

fiends. "If we let them escape now we shall be covered with shame,"

said they, "but ere night falls William shall acknowledge that he is

conquered."

"Indeed!" said Bertrand, and with his cousins he fell upon them till

they fled.

The Counts were victors on this field, but, wounded and weary as they

were, another combat lay before them, for a force of twenty thousand

Saracens was advancing from the valley.

Their hearts never failed them, but they had no strength left; the

young Counts were all taken prisoners, except Vivian, who was left for

dead by the side of a fountain where he had been struck down. "O

Father in Heaven," he said, feeling his life going from him, "forgive

me my sins, and help my uncle, if it is Thy holy will."

William Short Nose was still fighting, though he knew that the victory

lay with the Saracens and their hosts. "We are beaten," he said to the

fourteen faithful comrades who stood by him. "Listen as you will, no

sound of our war cry can be heard. But by the Holy Rood, the Saracens

shall know no rest while I am alive. I will give my forefathers no

cause for shame, and the minstrels shall not tell in their songs how I

fell back before the enemy."

They then gave battle once more, and fought valiantly, till all lay

dead upon the ground, save only William himself.