I hear you well enough when you shout like that. Perhaps he'll be as
deaf as I am when he's as old. There's nothing like youth for pride and
impudence. But go on, never mind me."
"She's a poor creature who has sought refuge with me from her
persecutors," said Beniah, turning to the prince, while the old woman
fell to crooning a wild song in a low voice, accompanying the music--if
such it may be called--by a swaying motion of her body to and fro.
Seeing that she meant to sit there, and that she apparently heard
nothing, Bladud resumed the conversation where it had been interrupted.
"Now, as I was saying, you know the country in all directions, and can
tell me of the most likely part where I can find what I want--a solitude
where I shall be able to escape from the face of man, and build a hut to
live in till I die. It may be long, it may be short, before death
relieves me. Meanwhile, I can hunt and provide myself with food till
the time comes."
The crooning of the old woman stopped at this point, and she sank her
face on her hands as if she had fallen asleep.
"I know of a man--a hunter," said Beniah, "a wild sort of being, who
lives a long way from here, in a beautiful part of the land, where there
is a wonderful swamp with a hot spring in the midst of it. Besides
hunting, the man who lives there cultivates the ground a little, and
keeps a few cattle and pigs. It may be that he can put you in the way
of finding what you want; and you need not tell him about your disease,
for you are not yet sure about it. Thus you will have an opportunity of
keeping out of the way of men until you find out whether the doctor is
right about it. He may be wrong, you know. Diseases sometimes resemble
each other without being the same."
Bladud shook his head.
"There can be no doubt that I am doomed," he said. "I know the disease
too well."
The Hebrew also believed that, if the doctor was right in his opinion,
there was no hope for the youth. Being unwilling, however, to dwell
upon this point, he asked--
"How did you come by it?"
"Very simply," answered the prince, who thereupon entered into a graphic
account of the incident which we have already recorded. Having done so,
he made up his mind, after some further talk, to pay a visit to the
hunter who dwelt in the region of the Hot Swamp.
"But you will not surely go without arms?" said Beniah.
"Why not? If I am doomed to die at any rate, why should I take the life
of any man to save my own?"
"Let me at least give you a bow and a sheaf of arrows. You cannot
procure food without these."
"Well, you are right. I will accept your kind offer. To say truth, my
heart was so crushed at first by this blow, that such matters did not
occur to me when I left; for it is terrible to think of having to die of
a slow disease without father, mother, or sister to comfort one!"
"It is indeed, my son," returned Beniah with much feeling. "If you will
accept it, I can give you a word of comfort."
"Give it me," said Bladud; "for I need it much,--if it be but true."
"It is true," returned the Hebrew earnestly; "for in one of the books of
our holy men who spoke for the All-Father, it is written, `When my
father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.'"
"It is a good word," returned the prince; "and I can well believe it
comes from the All-Father, for is He not also All-Good? Yet I can
scarcely claim it as mine, for my father and mother have not forsaken
me, but I them."
A few minutes more, and Bladud rose to depart. He took the bow and
arrows in his left hand, and, totally forgetting for the moment the duty
of keeping himself aloof from his fellow-men, he shook hands warmly with
Beniah, patted the old woman kindly on the shoulder, and went out into
the dark night.
The moment he was gone Branwen started up with flashing eyes that were
still bedewed with tears, and seized the old man's hand.
"Child," he said, "thou hast been weeping."
"Who could listen to his telling of that old woman's escape from the
bull and the precipice without tears?" she replied. "But tell me, what
is this terrible disease that has smitten the prince?"
"It is one well known and much dreaded in the East--called leprosy."
Here the Hebrew went into a painfully graphic account of the disease;
the frightful disfigurement it caused, and its almost, if not quite,
certain termination in death.
"And have the queen and Hudibras actually let him go away to die alone?"
she exclaimed.
"Not so, my child. Before you interrupted us he told me that he had
left home by stealth on purpose. But, Branwen," continued the old man
with some severity, "how could you run such a risk of being discovered?"
"I ran no risk," she replied, with a laugh.
"Besides, it was not fair to pretend to be deaf and thus obtain all his
secrets."
"I don't care whether it was fair or not," replied the girl with a
wilful shake of her head. "And was it fair of you to back me up as you
did?"
"Your rebuke is just, yet it savours of ingratitude. I should not have
done so, but I was completely taken aback. Do you know that your face
is dirty?"
"I know it. I made it so on purpose. Now tell me--when are you going
away to tell my father and brothers about me?"
"I shall probably start to-morrow. But many days must pass before I can
bring them here, for, as you know, their town is a long way off. But,
child, you do not seem to reflect that you have betrayed me."
"How?" asked Branwen, wonderingly.
"Did you not thrust out the plank and cross over before the very eyes of
Bladud?"
Branwen pursed her lips into the form of an O and opened her eyes wide.
"I never thought of that!" she said. "But after all it does not matter,
for the prince took no notice of the plank, and _he_ is not the man to
go and betray secrets!"
The Hebrew laughed, patted the girl on the head and sent her off to
rest. Then he busied himself in making preparation for his too
long-delayed journey.
Next morning, before daybreak, he set off, leaving Branwen in charge of
the hut, with strict orders to keep well out of sight. If any one
should come to it she was to retreat to the inner cavern and withdraw
the bridge.
"They may do as seemeth to them good in the outer hut. There is nothing
there worth stealing, and they are welcome to make themselves at home."
The Hebrew went on his mission; arrived in due time at his journey's
end; reported Branwen's dilemma; guided a party of stout warriors under
her father Gadarn, and led them to his hut in the dell in the dead of a
dark night, for it was no part of the programme to abduct the girl by
main force, unless peaceful or stealthy measures should prove
unsuccessful. When, however, he reached the dell and entered his
dwelling, he found that the bird had flown! Every nook and cranny of
the place was carefully searched; but, to the consternation of the
Hebrew, and the wrath of Gadarn and his men, not a vestige of Branwen
was to be found.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
ADVENTURES IN THE FORESTS.
Poor Branwen! it was an unfortunate day for her when, in her youthful
ignorance and recklessness, she took to the wild woods, resolved to
follow Bladud to his destination and secretly wait there and watch over
him like a guardian angel, as it were, until the terrible disease should
lay him on his deathbed, when she would reveal herself and nurse him to
the end!
Let not the reader suppose there was any lack of maiden modesty in this
resolve. It must be borne in mind that Branwen was little more than a
child in experience; that she was of an age at which the world, with all
its affairs, is enveloped in a halo of romance; that her soul had been
deeply stirred by the story of the rescue of the leprous old woman, and
her pity powerfully aroused by the calm, though hopeless, tones of the
doomed man when he spoke of his blighted prospects. Rather than leave
him to die in absolute solitude she would sacrifice everything, and, in
spite of infection and disfigurement, and the horrible nature of a
disease which eats away the features before it kills, she would soothe
his dying hours. Besides this, it must be remembered that our
ancestors' notions of propriety were somewhat different from ours, and--
well, it was about eight hundred years BuC!
Whether love was a factor in her resolve we cannot say, but we are
firmly convinced that, if it were, she was ignorant of the fact.
It is, however, one thing to resolve--quite another thing to carry
resolution into effect. Branwen had, in an incidental way, obtained
from her protector, Beniah, information as to the direction in which the
hunter of the Hot Swamp lived, and the distance to his dwelling; but
when she actually found herself in the forest, with nothing to guide her
save the position of the sun--and, on cloudy days not even that--she
began to realise somewhat of the difficulties that attended her
enterprise, and when, on the first night, she crouched among the forked
branches of an old oak, and heard the cries of wolves and other wild
creatures, and even saw them prowling about by the light of the moon as
it flickered through the foliage, she began to appreciate the dangers.
She had not, indeed, been so foolish as to set out on her expedition
without a certain amount of forethought--what she deemed careful and
wise consideration. She knew that by noting the position of the sun
when at its highest point in the sky she could follow pretty closely the
direction which Beniah had pointed out to her. She was quite aware that
food was absolutely necessary to life, and had packed up a large bundle
of dried meat, and also provided herself with one of her host's bows and
a sheaf of arrows. Besides this, she knew, like every girl of the
period, how to snare rabbits, and was even expert in throwing stones, so
that, if it should come to the worst, she could manage to subsist on
little birds. As to sleeping at night, she had been accustomed, as a
little girl, to climb trees, which faculty had not yet departed from
her, and she knew well that among the branches of many kinds of trees
there were cosy resting-places where neither man nor beast would be
likely to discover her. She had also some idea of what it is to follow
a trail, for she had often heard the king's chief hunter refer to the
process. As it was certain that Bladud, being an enormously big man,
would leave a very obvious trail behind him, she would follow that--of
course keeping well in the rear, so that he might never dream of her
existence or intentions until the fatal time arrived when she should
have to appear like a guardian angel and nurse him till he died.
Poor Branwen felt dreadfully depressed when she thought of this
termination, and was quite unlike her gay reckless self for a time; but
a vague feeling of unbelief in such a catastrophe, and a determination
to hope against hope kept her from giving way to absolute despair, and
nerved her to vigorous exertion.
It was in this state of mind that she had set the Hebrew's house in
order; carried everything of value to the inner cave; removed the plank
bridge; closed the outer door, and had taken her departure.
As already said, she concealed herself among the branches of an old oak
the first night, and, although somewhat alarmed by the cries of wild
animals, as well as by the appalling solitude and darkness around, she
managed to make a fair supper of the dried meat. Then,--she could not
tell when,--she fell into a profound slumber, which was not broken until
the sun had risen high, and the birds were whistling gaily among the
branches--some of them gazing at her in mute surprise, as if they had
discovered some new species of gigantic acorn.
She arose with alacrity, her face flushed with abounding health, and her
eyes dancing with a gush of youthful hope. But memory stepped in, and
the thought of her sad mission caused a sudden collapse. The collapse,
however, did not last long. Her eyes chanced to fall on the bundle of
dried meat. Appetite immediately supervened. Falling-to, she made a
hearty breakfast, and then, looking cautiously round to see that no
danger was near, she slipped down from her perch, took up the bow and
quiver and bundle of food, threw her blanket, or striped piece of
Phoenician cloth, over her shoulder, and resumed her journey.
It was soon after this that Branwen found out the misfortune of
ignorance and want of experience. Ere long she began to feel the
cravings of thirst, and discovered that she had forgotten to take with
her a bottle, or any other sort of receptacle for water. About noon her
thirst became so great that she half repented having undertaken the
mission. Then it became so intolerable that she felt inclined to sit
down and cry. But such an act was so foreign to her nature that she
felt ashamed; pursed her lips; contracted her brows; grasped her bow and
strode bravely on.
She was rewarded. The tinkling of water broke upon her senses like
celestial music. Running forward she came to a little spring, at which
she fell on her knees, put her lips to the pool, and drank with
thankfulness in her heart. Arising refreshed, she glanced upward, and
observed a bird of the pheasant species gazing fixedly down.
"How fortunate!" exclaimed the maiden, fitting an arrow to her bow.
It was not fortunate for the pheasant, evidently, whatever Branwen may
have meant, for next moment the bird fell dead--transfixed with an
arrow.
Being high noon by that time, the demands of nature made our huntress
think of a mid-day meal. And now it was that she became aware of
another omission--the result, partly, of inexperience. Having plucked
and cleaned the bird, she prepared to roast it, when a sudden
indescribable gaze overspread her pretty face. For a moment she stood
as if petrified. Then she suddenly laughed, but the laugh was not
gleeful, for it is trying to human nature to possess a good appetite and
a good dinner without the means of cooking! She had forgotten to take
with her materials for producing fire. She knew, indeed, that sticks
and friction and fungus were the things required, but she knew not what
sort of sticks, or where to find the right kind of fungus, or tinder.
Moreover, she had never tried her hand at such work before, and knew not
how to begin.
Laying the bird on a bank, therefore, she dined off the dried meat--not,
however, so heartily as before, owing to certain vague thoughts about
supply and demand--the rudimentary ideas of what now forms part of the
science of Political Economy. The first fittings of a careworn
expression across her smooth brow, showed, at all events, that domestic
economy had begun to trouble her spirit.
"For," she thought to herself, "the dried meat won't last long, and I
can't eat raw things--disgusting!--and I've a long, long way to go."
Even at this early period of her mission, her character was beginning to
develop a little and to strengthen.
For several days she continued her journey through the great solitudes
lying to the north-west of King Hudibras' town, keeping carefully out of
the way of open places, lest wandering hunters should find her, and
sleeping in the forked branches of trees at night. Of course the
necessity of thus keeping to the dense woods, and making her way through
thorny thickets, rendered her journey very fatiguing; but Branwen was
unusually strong and healthy, though the grace of her slender frame gave
her a rather fragile appearance, and she did not find herself exhausted
even at the end of a long day's march; while her dressed-deerskin skirt
and leggings bid defiance to thorns. So did the rude but serviceable
shoes which her friend Beniah had constructed for her out of raw hide.
One thing that troubled the poor girl much was the fact that she had not
yet discovered the trail of Bladud. In reality, she had crossed it more
than once, but, not being possessed of the keen eye of the hunter, she
had not observed it, until she came to a muddy swamp, on the edge of
which there was an unmistakable track--a trail which a semi-blind man
could hardly have missed. Stopping for a few minutes to take particular
note of it, she afterwards went on with renewed hope and energy.
But this state of things did not last, for the trail became to her
indistinguishable the moment the swamp was passed, and at last, during a
very dark wet day, she lost herself as well as the trail. At evening of
the same day she climbed into a tree. Opening out her bundle of dried
meat, she began to eat and bemoan her fate. Tears were in her eyes, and
there was a slight tendency to sob in her voice, as she muttered to
herself--
"I--I wouldn't mind being lost so much, if I only knew what to do or
where to go. And this meat won't hold out another week at the rate I've
been eating. But I could hardly help it--I have been _so_ hungry.
Indeed, I'm hungry _now_, but I must not eat so much. Let me see. I
shall divide it into two parts. That will last me twelve days or so, by
which time I should be there--if I'm still going in the right direction.
And now, divide the half into six--there--each of these will do for--
Oh! but I forgot, that's only enough for breakfast. It will need two
portions for each day, as it will be impossible to do without supper. I
must just eat half of to-night's portion, and see how it feels."
With this complicated end in view, she dried her eyes and began supper,
and when she had finished it she seemed to "see" that it didn't "feel"
enough, for, after much earnest consideration, she quietly began to eat
the second portion, and consumed it.
She was putting away the remnants, and feeling altogether in a more
satisfactory state of mind, when her eyes fell upon an object which
caused her heart to bound with alarm, and drove all the colour from her
cheeks.
At the foot of the tree, looking up at her in blank amazement--open-eyed
and mouthed--stood a man; a big, rough-looking man, in hairy garments
and with a hairy face, which was topped by a head of hair that rendered
a cap needless. He stood with his feet apart and an arrow across his
bow, like one who sees a lovely bird which he is about to bring down.
"Oh! don't shoot!" she cried, becoming suddenly and alarmingly aware of
the action--"don't shoot! It's me! I--I'm a girl--not a beast!"
To make quite sure that the man understood her, Branwen jumped to the
ground quickly and stood before him.
Recovering himself, the man lowered his bow and said something in a
dialect so uncouth, that the poor girl did not understand him. Indeed,
she perceived, to her horror, that he was half-witted, and could
articulate with difficulty.
"I don't know what you say, good man, but I am lost in this forest, and
belong to King Hudibras' town. I am on my way to visit the hunter of
the Hot Swamp, and I would think it so very, _very_ kind if you would
guide me to his hut."
The idiot--for such he was--evidently understood the maiden, though she
did not understand him, for he threw back his head, and gave vent to a
prolonged gurgling laugh.
Branwen felt that her only chance was to put a bold face on matters.
She, therefore, by a violent effort, subdued her emotion and continued.
"You know King Hudibras?"
The man nodded and grinned.
"Then I am quite sure that if you behave well, and show me the way to
the Hot Swamp, he will reward you in a way that will make your heart
dance with joy. Come, guide me. We have a good deal of the day still
before us."
Thus speaking, she put her hand quietly within that of the idiot, and in
a voice of authority said--"lead on!"
Regarding the girl with a look of mute surprise, the man obeyed, but,
instead of leading her to the region named, he conducted her over a
neighbouring ridge, into what appeared to her to be a robber's den.
There was nothing for it now but to carry out the _role_ which she had
laid down. The desperate nature of the case seemed to strengthen her to
play her part, for, as she was led into the circle of light caused by a
camp-fire, round which a band of wild-looking men were standing, a
spirit of calm determination seemed to take possession of her soul.
"What strange sort of animal is this you have caught, lad?" demanded one
of the band.
Before an answer could be given, a tall, fierce-looking woman came out
of a booth, or temporary hut, close to the camp-fire, pushed her way
through the crowd of men, who fell back respectfully, and, going up to
Branwen, grasped her by the wrist.
"Never ye mind what animal she is," cried the woman, shaking her fist at
the man who had spoken, "she is my property." Then, turning to her
captive as she led her into the hut, she said:
"Don't be afraid, my dear. Black-hearted though some of them are, not
one will dare to touch you as long as you are under my protection."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
BRANWEN IN IMMINENT DANGER.
It is a wonderful, but at the same time, we think, a universal and
important fact, that love permeates the universe. Even a female snail,
if we could only put the question, would undoubtedly admit that it loves
its little ones.
At least we have the strongest presumption from analogy that the idea is
correct, for do we not find lions and tigers, apes and gorillas, engaged
in lovingly licking--we don't mean whipping--and otherwise fondling
their offspring? Even in Hades we find the lost rich man praying for
the deliverance of his brethren from torment, and that, surely, was love
in the form of pity. At all events, whatever name we may give it, there
can be no doubt it was unselfish. And even selfishness is love
misapplied.
Yes, let us be thankful that in one form or another love permeates the
universe, and there is no place, however unfavourable, and no person,
however unlikely, that can altogether escape from its benign influence.
We have been led to these reflections by the contemplation of that
rugged, hard-featured, square-shouldered, angry old woman who so
opportunely took Branwen under her protection.
Why she did so was a complete mystery to the poor girl, for the woman
seemed to have no amiable traits of character about her, and she spoke
so harshly to every one--even to her timid captive--that Branwen could
not help suspecting she was actuated by some sinister motive in
protecting her.
And Branwen was right. She had indeed a sinister end in view--but love
was at the bottom even of that. The woman, whose name was Ortrud, had a
son who was to the full as ugly and unamiable as herself, and she loved
that son, although he treated her shamefully, abused her, and sometimes
even threatened to beat her. To do him justice, he never carried the
threat into execution. And, strange to say, this unamiable blackguard
also loved his mother--not very demonstratively, it is true, except in
the abusive manner above mentioned.
This rugged creature had a strong objection to the wild, lawless life
her son was leading, for instead of sticking to the tribe to which he
belonged, and pillaging, fighting with, and generally maltreating every
other tribe that was not at peace with his, this mistaken young man had
associated himself with a band of like-minded desperadoes--who made him
their chief--and took to pillaging the members of every tribe that
misfortune cast in his way. Now, it occurred to Ortrud that the best
way to wean her son from his evil ways would be to get him married to
some gentle, pretty, affectionate girl, whose influence would be exerted
in favour of universal peace instead of war, and the moment she set eyes
on Branwen, she became convinced that her ambition was on the point of
attainment. Hence her unexpected and sudden display of interest in the
fair captive, whom she meant to guard till the return of her son from a
special marauding expedition, in which he was engaged at the time with a
few picked men.
Whatever opinion the reader may have by this time formed of Branwen, we
wish it to be understood that she had "a way with her" of insinuating
herself into the good graces of all sorts and conditions of men--
including women and children. She was particularly successful with
people of disagreeable and hardened character. It is not possible to
explain why, but, such being the case, it is not surprising that she
soon wormed herself into the confidence of the old woman, to such an
extent, that the latter was ere long tempted to make her more or less of
a confidant.
One day, about a week after the arrival of our heroine in the camp, old
Ortrud asked her how she would like to live always in the green woods.
The look of uncertainty with which she put the question convinced the
captive that it was a leading one.