of Gadarn, Konar, and Beniah coming on in front they turned and fled
like autumn leaves before a gale, without waiting even to discharge a
single arrow. The courageous Addedomar was overwhelmed by the panic and
carried away in the rush. Gadarn, supposing that the attack would have
been made earlier and in the dark, had left the bows of his force
behind, intending to depend entirely on swords and clubs. But he found
that the robbers were swift of foot and that terror lent wings, for they
did not overtake them at once. Down the slope went the robbers, and
down went the roaring northmen, until both parties swept out upon the
flat below.
They did not scatter, however. Addedomar's men had been trained to keep
together even in flight, and they now made for the gully between the
mounds, their chief intending to face about there and show fight on the
slopes of the pass. But the flying host had barely entered it, when
they were assaulted and driven back by the forces under Gunrig, who went
at them with a shout that told of previous severe restraint. The
fugitives could not stand it. The arrows, which even during flight were
being got ready for Gadarn's host, were suddenly discharged at the men
in the gully; but the aim was wild, and the only shaft which took
serious effect found its billet in the breast of Gunrig himself. He
plucked it savagely out and continued the charge at the head of his men.
Turning sharp to the left, the robbers then made for the lower end of
the flat, still followed closely by Gadarn's band, now swelled by that
of Gunrig. As had been anticipated, they almost ran into the arms of
Bladud's contingent, which met them with a yell of rage, and the yell
was answered by a shriek of terror.
Their retreat being thus cut off in nearly all directions, the
panic-stricken crew doubled to the left again, and sprang into the
swamp, closely followed by their ever-increasing foes. At first and at
some distance from the fountain-head the water felt warm and grateful to
the lower limbs of the fugitives, but as they plunged in deeper and
nearer to the springs, it became uncomfortably hot, and they began to
scatter all over the place, in the hope of finding cool water. Some who
knew the locality were successful. Others, who did not know it, rushed
from hot to hotter, while some, who were blindly struggling toward the
source of the evil, at last began to yell with pain, and no wonder, for
the temperature of the springs then--as it has been ever since, and is
at the present day--was 120 degrees of Fahrenheit--a degree of heat, in
water, which man is not fitted to bear with equanimity.
"Now, Konar, give them a tune from _your_ pipe," said Gadarn, whose eyes
were blazing with excitement.
The hunter of the Swamp obeyed, and it seemed as though a mammoth bull
of Bashan had been suddenly let loose on the fugitives.
To add to the turmoil a large herd of Bladud's pigs, disturbed from
their lair, were driven into the hot water, where they swam about in a
frantic state, filling the whole region with horrid yells, which,
mingling with those of the human sufferers, and the incessant barking of
Brownie, rendered confusion worse confounded, and caused the wild
animals far and near to flee from the region as if it had become
Pandemonium!
The pigs, however, unlike the men, knew how to find the cooler parts of
the swamp.
Perceiving his error when he stood knee-deep in the swamp, Gadarn now
sought to rectify it by sending a detachment of swift runners back for
his bows and arrows. But this manoeuvre took time, and before it could
be carried out the half-boiled host had gained the other side of the
Swamp, and were massing themselves together preparatory to a retreat
into the thick woods.
"Now is _our_ time," said Arkal, rising up and drawing his sword. Then,
with a nautical shout, and almost in the words of a late warrior of
note, he cried, "Up, men, and at them!"
And the men obeyed with such alacrity and such inconceivable violence,
that the stricken enemy did not await the onset. They incontinently
sloped at an angle of forty-five degrees with mother earth, and scooted
towards the river, into which they all plunged without a moment's
consideration.
Arkal and his men paused on the brink to watch the result; but the
seaman was wrong about the probable fate of the vanquished, for every
man of the robber band could swim like an otter, besides being in a fit
condition to enjoy the cooler stream. They all reached the opposite
bank in safety. Scrambling out, they took to the woods without once
looking back, and finally disappeared.
During the remainder of that day Gadarn could do little else than
chuckle or laugh.
Bladud's comment was that it had been "most successful."
"A bloodless victory!" remarked Beniah.
"And didn't they yell?" said Arkal.
"And splutter?" added Maikar.
"And the pigs! oh! the pigs!" cried Gadarn, going off into another
explosion which brought the tears to his eyes, "it would have been
nothing without the pigs!"
The gentle reader must make allowance for the feelings of men fresh from
the excitement of such a scene, existing as they did in times so very
remote. But, after all, when we take into consideration the
circumstances; the nature of the weapons used; the cause of the war, and
the objects gained, and compare it all with the circumstances, weapons,
causes, and objects of modern warfare, we are constrained to admit that
it was a "most glorious victory"--this Battle of the Springs.
CHAPTER THIRTY.
SMALL BEGINNINGS OF FUTURE GREAT THINGS.
There was one thing, however, which threw a cloud over the rejoicing
with which the conquerors hailed this memorable victory.
Gunrig's wound turned out to be a very severe one--much more so than had
been at first supposed--for the arrow had penetrated one of his lungs,
and, breaking off, had left the head in it.
As Bladud was the only one of the host who possessed any knowledge of
how to treat complicated wounds, he was "called in," much against the
wish of the wounded man; but when the prince had seen and spoken to him,
in his peculiarly soft voice, and with his gentle manner, besides
affording him considerable relief, the chief became reconciled to his
new doctor.
"I thought you a savage monster," said the invalid, on the occasion of
the amateur doctor's third visit; "but I find you to be almost as tender
as a woman. Yet your hand was heavy enough when it felled me at the
games!"
"Let not your mind dwell on that, Gunrig; and, truth to tell, if it had
not been for that lucky--or, if you choose, unlucky--blow, I might have
found you more than my match."
The chief held out his hand, which the doctor grasped.
"I thought to kill you, Bladud; but when I get well, we shall be
friends."
Poor Gunrig, however, did not from that day show much evidence of
getting well. His case was far beyond the skill of his amateur doctor.
It was, therefore, resolved, a day or two later, to send him home under
an escort led by Beniah.
"I will follow you ere long," said Gadarn, as he grasped the hand of the
invalid at parting, "for I have business at the court of King Hudibras."
Gunrig raised himself in the litter in which he was borne by four men,
and looked the northern chief earnestly in the face.
"You have not yet found your daughter?" he asked.
"Well--no. At least not exactly."
"Not exactly!" repeated Gunrig in surprise.
"No; not exactly. That's all I can say at present. All ready in front
there? Move on! My greetings to the king, and say I shall see him
soon. What, ho! Konar, come hither! Know you where I can find Prince
Bladud?"
"In his booth," replied the hunter.
"Send him to me. I would have speech with him."
When the prince entered the booth of the commander-in-chief, he found
that worthy with his hands on his sides, a tear or two in his eyes, and
very red in the face. He frowned suddenly, however, and became very
grave on observing Bladud.
"I sent for you," he said, "to let you know my intended movements, and
to ask what you mean to do. To-morrow I shall start for your father's
town with all my men."
"What! and leave your daughter undiscovered?"
"Ay. Of what use is it to search any longer? There is not a hole or
corner of the land that we have not ransacked. I am certain that she is
not here, wherever she may be; so I must go and seek elsewhere. Wilt go
with me?"
"That will not I," returned Bladud decisively.
"Wherefore? The Hebrew tells me you are cured; and your father will be
glad to have you back."
"It matters not. I leave not this region until I have made a more
thorough search for and found the lad Cormac, or at least ascertained
his fate."
"Why so anxious about the boy? is he of kin to you?" said Gadarn in a
tone that seemed to convey the slightest possible evidence of contempt.
"Ay, he is of kin," returned Bladud, warmly; "for it seems to me
sometimes that friendship is a closer tie than blood. At all events, I
owe my life to him. Moreover, if he has been captured by robbers, I
feel assured that he will escape before long and return to me."
"Indeed! Are you, then, so sure of his affection? Has he ever dared to
say that he--he is fond of you?"
"Truly, he never has; for we men of the southern parts of Albion are not
prone to speak of our feelings, whatever you of the north may be. But
surely you must know, chief, that the eyes, the tones, and the actions,
have a language of their own which one can well understand though the
tongue be silent. Besides, I do not see it to be a very daring act for
one man to tell another that he is fond of him. And you would not
wonder at my regard, if you only knew what a pure-minded, noble fellow
this Cormac is,--so thoughtful, so self-sacrificing, for, you know, it
must have cost him--it would cost any one--a terrible effort of
self-denial to dwell in such a solitude as this for the sole purpose of
nursing a stranger, and that stranger a doomed leper, as I thought at
first, though God has seen fit to restore me."
"Nevertheless, I counsel you to come with me, prince, for I have no
intention of giving up the search for my child, though I mean to carry
it on in a more likely region; and who knows but we may find Cormac--
ha!" (here there was a peculiar catch in Gadarn's throat which he
sought to conceal with a violent sneeze)--"ha! find Cormac in the same
region!"
"That is not likely. I see no reason why two people who were lost at
different times, and not, as far as we know, in exactly the same place,
should be found"--(here the chief had another fit of sneezing)--"be
found together. At any rate, I remain here, for a time at least. My
old friend Dromas will remain with me, and some of my father's men."
As Gadarn could not induce the prince to alter his decision, and, for
reasons of his own, did not choose to enlighten him, they parted there--
the chief setting off with his troops in the direction of Hudibras'
town, and the prince returning to his booth, accompanied by Captain
Arkal, little Maikar, the hunter of the Hot Swamp, and about thirty of
his father's men, who had elected to stay with him.
"As I am now cured, good Konar," said Bladud to the hunter, while
returning to the booth, "and as I have enough to do in searching for my
lost friend, I fear that I must end my service with you, and make over
the pigs to some other herd."
"As you please, prince," returned the eccentric hunter with the utmost
coolness, "the pigs were well able to look after themselves before you
came, and, doubtless, they will be not less able after you go."
Bladud laughed, and, putting his hand kindly on the man's shoulder,
assured him that he would find for him a good successor to herd his
pigs. He also asked him if he would agree to act as hunter to his
party, as he intended to remain in that region and build a small town
beside the springs, so that people afflicted with the disease from which
he had suffered, or any similar disease, might come and be cured.
Konar agreed at once, for a new light burst upon him, and the idea of
living to serve other people, and not merely to feed himself, seemed to
put new life into him.
"Do you really mean to build a town here?" asked Dromas, when he heard
his friend giving orders to his men to erect a large booth to shelter
them all for some time to come.
"Indeed, I do. So thankful am I, Dromas, for this cure, that I feel
impelled to induce others to come and share the blessing. I only wish I
could hope that you would stay in Albion and aid me. But I suppose
there is some fair one in Hellas who might object to that."
"No fair one that I know of," returned Dromas, with a laugh, "and as I
have left neither kith nor kin at home, there is nothing to prevent my
taking the proposal into consideration."
"That is good news indeed. So, then, I will ask you to come along with
me just now, and mayhap you will make up your mind while we walk. I go
to fix on a site for the new town, and to set the men to work."
That day the voices of toilers, and the sound of hatchets and the crash
of falling trees, were heard in the neighbourhood of the Hot Swamp,
while the prince and his friend examined the localities around in the
immediate vicinity of the fountain-head.
On coming to the fountain itself, the young men paused to look at it, as
it welled up from the earth. So hot was it that they could not endure
to hold their hands in it, and in such volumes did it rise, that it
overflowed its large natural basin continually, and converted a large
tract of ground into a morass, while finding its way, by many rills and
channels, into the adjacent river.
"What a singular work of Nature!" remarked Dromas.
"Why not say--a wonderful work of God?" replied the prince.
"Come now, my friend, let us not begin again our old discussions. What
was suitable for the groves of Hellas is not appropriate to the swamps
of Albion!"
"I agree not with that, Dromas."
"You were ever ready to disagree, Bladud."
"Nay, not exactly to disagree, but to argue. However, I will fall in
with your humour just now, and wait for what you may deem a more fitting
time. But what, think you, can be the cause of this extraordinary hot
spring?"
"Fire!" returned the Greek promptly.
"Truly that must be so," returned the prince, with a laugh. "You are
unusually sharp this morning, my friend. But what originates the fire,
and where is it, and why does it not set the whole world on fire, seeing
that it must needs be under the earth?"
"It would be better to put such questions to the wise men of Egypt, next
time you have the chance, than to me," returned Dromas, "for I am not
deep enough in philosophy to answer you. Nevertheless, it does not seem
presumptuous to make a guess. That there is abundance of fire beneath
the ground on which we tread is clear from the burning mountains which
you and I have seen on our way from Hellas. Probably there are many
such mountains elsewhere, for if the fire did not find an escape in many
places, it would assuredly burst our world asunder. What set the inside
of the world on fire at the beginning is, of course, a puzzle; and why
everything does not catch fire and blaze up is another puzzle--for it is
plain that if you were to set fire to the inside of your booth, the
outside would be shrivelled up immediately. Then," continued Dromas,
knitting his brows and warming with his subject, "there must be a big
lake under the earth somewhere, and quite close to the fire, which sets
it a-boiling and makes it boil over--thus."
He pointed to the fountain as he spoke.
"There may be truth in what you say, Dromas. At all events your theory
is plausible, and this, I know, that ever since I came here, there has
not been the slightest diminution in the volume of hot water that has
poured forth; from which I would conclude that it has been flowing thus
from the beginning of time, and that it will go on flowing thus to the
end."
We know not whether the reader will be inclined to class Bladud among
the prophets, but there are some prophets who have less claim to the
title, for it is a fact that in this year of grace, 1892, the output of
hot water from the same fountain, in the town of Bath, is one million
tons every year, while the quantity and the temperature never vary in
any appreciable degree, summer or winter, from year to year!
Having discussed the philosophical aspect of the fountain, the two
friends proceeded with the work then in hand.
Of course, as they gazed around at the richly wooded hills and
attractive eminences, which were not only charming sites for the little
town, but also well suited for fortresses to resist invasions they were
naturally tempted to sacrifice the useful to the safe and beautiful.
Fortunately wisdom prevailed, and it was that day decided that the site
for Swamptown should be on a slope that rose gently from the river bank,
passed close by the Hot Swamp, and was finally lost in the lovely
wood-clad terraces beyond.
"We must, of course, confine the hot stream within banks, train it to
the river, and drain the Swamp," observed Bladud, as he sat brooding
over his plans that night at supper.
"Ay, and make a pond for sick folk to dip in," said Dromas.
"And another pond for the healthy folk," suggested Captain Arkal; "we
like to give ourselves a wash now and then, and it would never do for
the healthy to go spluttering about with the sick--would it?"
"Certainly not," interposed little Maikar, "but what about the women?
They would need a pond for themselves, would they not? Assuredly they
would keep us all in hot water if they didn't have one."
"I see," said Bladud, still in a meditative mood. "There would have to
be a succession of ponds alongside of the hot stream, with leads to let
the water in--"
"And other leads to let the overflow out," suggested the practical
Arkal.
"Just so. And booths around the ponds for people to dry themselves and
dress in. Ha!" exclaimed the prince, smiting his knee with his hand.
"I see a great thing in this--a thing that will benefit mankind as long
as disease shall afflict them--as long as the hot waters flow!"
He looked round on his friends with an air of combined solemnity and
triumph. The solemnity without the triumph marked the faces of his
friends as they returned the look in profound silence, for they all
seemed to feel that the prince was in a state of exaltation, and that
something approaching to the nature of a prophecy had been uttered.
For a few moments they continued to gaze at each other--then there was a
general sigh, as if a matter of great importance had been finally
settled, and the silence was at last broken by little Maikar solemnly
demanding another rib of roast-beef.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
MORE PLOTS AND PLANS.
Having laid the foundations of the new town, drawn out his plans and set
his men to work, Bladud appointed Captain Arkal superintendent, and set
out on his quest after his lost friend Cormac, taking Dromas and Maikar
along with him and four of the men--one of them being Konar the hunter.
Brownie was also an important member of the party, for his master hoped
much from his power of scent.
Meanwhile Cormac--alias Branwen, _alias_ the little old woman--forsook
the refuge of the Hebrew's house, and, in her antique capacity, paid a
visit one afternoon to the palace of Hudibras.
"Here comes that deaf old witch again," said the domestic who had
formerly threatened to set the dogs at her.
"Yes," remarked the old woman when she came up to the door, "and the old
witch has got her hearing again, my sweet-faced young man--got it back
in a way, too, that, if you only heard how, would make your hair stand
on end, your eyes turn round, and the very marrow in your spine shrivel
up. Go and tell the princess I want to see her."
"Oh!" replied the domestic with a faint effort at a sneer, for he was a
bold man, though slightly superstitious.
"Oh!" echoed the old woman. "Yes, and tell her that if she keeps me
waiting I'll bring the black cloud of the Boong-jee-gop over the palace,
and that will bring you all to the condition of wishing that your
grandmothers had never been born. Young man--go!"
This was too much for that domestic. The unheard-of horrors of the
Boong-jee-gop, coupled with the tremendous energy of the final "go!" was
more than he could stand. He went--meekly.
"Send her to me directly," said Hafrydda, and the humiliated servitor
obeyed.
"Dearest Branwen!" exclaimed the princess, throwing back the old woman's
shawl, straightening her up, and hugging her when they were alone, "how
long you have been coming! Where have you been? Why have you forsaken
me? And _I_ have such quantities of news to tell you--but, what has
become of your hair?"
"I cut it short after I fell into the hands of robbers--"
"Robbers!" exclaimed the princess.
"Yes--I shall tell you all about my adventures presently--and you have
no idea what difficulty I had in cutting it, for the knife was so blunt
that I had to cut and pull at it a whole afternoon. But it had to be
done, for I meant to personate a boy--having stolen a boy's hunting
dress for that purpose. Wasn't it fun to rob the robbers? And then--
and then--I found your brother--"
"_You_ found Bladud?"
"Yes, and--and--but I'll tell you all about that too presently. It is
enough to say that he is alive and well--sickness almost, if not quite,
gone. I _was_ so sorry for him."
"Dear Branwen!" said the princess, with an emphatic oral demonstration.
Hafrydda was so loving and tender and effusive, and, withal, so very
fair, that her friend could not help gazing at her in admiration.
"No wonder I love him," said Branwen.
"Why?" asked the princess, much amused at the straightforward gravity
with which this was said.
"Because he is as like you as your own image in a brazen shield--only
far better-looking."
"Indeed, your manners don't seem to have been improved by a life in the
woods, my Branwen."
"Perhaps not. I never heard of the woods being useful for that end.
Ah, if you had gone through all that I have suffered--the--the--but what
news have you got to tell me?"
"Well, first of all," replied the princess, with that comfortable,
interested manner which some delightful people assume when about to make
revelations, "sit down beside me and listen--and don't open your eyes
too wide at first else there will be no room for further expansion at
last."
Hereupon the princess entered on a minute account of various doings at
the court, which, however interesting they were to Branwen, are not
worthy of being recorded here. Among other things, she told her of a
rumour that was going about to the effect that an old witch had been
seen occasionally in the neighbourhood of Beniah's residence, and that
all the people in the town were more or less afraid of going near the
place either by day or night on that account.
Of course the girls had a hearty laugh over this. "Did they say what
the witch was like?" asked Branwen.
"O yes. People have given various accounts of her--one being that she
is inhumanly ugly, that fire comes out of her coal-black eyes, and that
she has a long tail. But now I come to my most interesting piece of
news--that will surprise you most, I think--your father Gadarn is here!"
Branwen received this piece of news with such quiet indifference that
her friend was not only disappointed but amazed.
"My dear," she asked, "why do you not gasp, `My father!' and lift your
eyebrows to the roots of your hair?"
"Because I know that he is here."
"Know it!"
"Yes--know it. I have seen him, as well as your brother, and father
knows that _I_ am here."
"Oh! you deceiver! That accounts, then, for the mystery of his manner
and the strange way he has got of going about chuckling when there is
nothing funny being said or done--at least nothing that I can see!"
"He's an old goose," remarked her friend.
"Branwen," said the princess in a remonstrative tone, "is that the way
to speak of your own father?"
"He's a dear old goose, then, if that will please you better--the very
nicest old goose that I ever had to do with. Did he mention Bladud to
you?"
"Yes, he said he had seen him, and been helped by him in a fight they
seemed to have had at the Hot Swamp, but we could not gather much from
him as to the dear boy's state of health, or where he lived, or what he
meant to do. He told us, however, of a mysterious boy who had nursed
him in sickness, and who had somehow been lost or captured, and that
poor Bladud was so fond of the boy that he had remained behind to search
for him. I now know," added the princess with a laugh, "who this dear
boy is, but I am greatly puzzled still about some of his doings and
intentions."
"Listen, then, Hafrydda, and I will tell you all." As we have already
told the reader all, we will not tell it over again, but leap at once to
that point where the princess asked, at the close of the narrative, what
her friend intended to do.