the turmoil and stood motionless with surprise, but were unable to see
what caused it, owing to a thick bush which intervened. Another moment
and they stood aghast, for, round the corner of the only bend in the
drain, there appeared a raging head of foam, with mud, grass, sticks,
stones, and rubbish on its crest, bearing down on them like a
race-horse.
With a yell that was as fully united as their method of work, the men
scrambled out of the drain and rushed up the bank, exhibiting a unity of
purpose that must have gladdened the heart of Captain Arkal. And they
were not a moment too soon, for the last man was caught by the flood,
and would have been swept away but for the promptitude of his fellows.
"H'm! it has saved you some work, lads," observed the captain, with a
touch of grave irony as he pointed to the portion of the bank on which
they had been engaged. He was right. The flood had not only overleaped
this, but had hollowed it out and swept it clean away into the river--
thus accomplishing effectively in ten minutes what would have probably
required the labour of several hours.
On carrying Konar up to the village of the Swamp--afterwards Swamptown,
later Aquae Sulis, ultimately Bath--which had already begun to grow on
the nearest height, they found that Bladud and his party had just
arrived from the last of the searching expeditions.
"What! Beniah?" exclaimed the prince, when the Hebrew met him. "You
have soon returned to us. Is all well at home?"
"All is well. I am sent on a mission to you, but that is not so urgent
as the case of Konar."
As he spoke the young men laid the senseless form on the ground.
Bladud, at once dismissing all other subjects from his mind, examined
him carefully, while Brownie snuffed at him with sympathetic interest.
"He lives, and no bones are broken," said the prince, looking up after a
few minutes; "here, some of you, go fetch hot water and pour it on him;
then rub him dry; cover him up and let him rest. He has only been
stunned. And let us have something to eat, Arkal. We are ravenous as
wolves, having had scarce a bite since morning."
"You come in good time," replied the captain. "Our evening meal is just
ready."
"Come along, then, let us to work. You will join us, Beniah, and tell
me the object of your mission while we eat."
The men of old may not have been epicures, but there can be no question
that they were tremendous eaters. No doubt, living as they did,
constantly in fresh air, having no house drains or gas, and being
blessed with superabundant exercise, their appetites were keen and their
capacities great. For at least ten minutes after the evening meal
began, Bladud, Arkal, Dromas, little Maikar, and the Hebrew, were as
dumb and as busy as Brownie. They spake not a single word--except that
once the prince took a turkey drumstick from between his teeth to look
up and repeat, "All well at home, you say?" To which Beniah, checking
the course of a great wooden spoon to his lips, replied, "All well."
There was roast venison at that feast, and roast turkey and roast hare,
and plover and ducks of various kinds, all roasted, and nothing whatever
boiled, except some sorts of green vegetables, the names of which have,
unfortunately, not been handed down to us, though we have the strongest
ground for believing that they were boiled in earthenware pots--for, in
recent excavations in Bath, vessels of that description have been found
among the traces of the most ancient civilisation.
"Now," said the prince, wiping his mouth with a bunch of grass when he
came to the first pause, "what may be the nature of your mission,
Beniah?"
"Let me ask, first," replied the Hebrew, also wiping his mouth with a
similar pocket handkerchief, "have you found the lad Cormac yet?"
"No," answered the prince, gloomily, and with a slightly surprised look,
for the expression of Beniah's countenance puzzled him. "Why do you
ask?"
"Because that bears somewhat on my mission. I have to deliver a message
from your father, the king. He bids me say that you are to return home
immediately."
"Never!" cried Bladud, with that Medo-Persic decision of tone and
manner, which implies highly probable and early surrender, "never! until
I find the boy--dead or alive."
"For," continued the Hebrew, slowly, "he has important matters to
consider with you--matters that will not brook delay. Moreover, Gadarn
bid me say that he has fallen on the tracks of the lad Cormac, and that
we are almost sure to find him in the neighbourhood of your father's
town."
"What say you?" exclaimed Bladud, dropping his drumstick--not the same
one, but another which he had just begun--"repeat that."
Beniah repeated it.
"Arkal," said the prince, turning to the captain, "I will leave you in
charge here, and start off by the first light to-morrow morning. See
that poor Konar is well cared for. Maikar, you will accompany me, and I
suppose, Dromas, that you also will go."
"Of course," said Dromas, with a meaning smile--so full of meaning,
indeed, as to be quite beyond interpretation.
"By the way," continued Bladud,--who had resumed the drumstick,--"has
that fellow Gadarn found his daughter Branwen?"
Beniah choked on a bone, or something, at that moment, and, looking at
the prince with the strangest expression of face, and tears in his eyes,
explained that he had not--at least not to his, Beniah's, absolutely
certain knowledge.
"That is to say," he continued in some confusion, "if--if--he has found
her--which seems to me highly probable--there must be some--some mystery
about her, for--it is impossible that--"
Here the Hebrew choked again with some violence.
"Have a care, man!" cried the prince in some alarm. "However hungry a
man may be, he should take time to swallow. You seem to be
contradicting yourself, but I don't wonder, in the circumstances."
"Verily, I wonder at nothing, in the circumstances, for they are
perplexing--even distressing," returned the Hebrew with a sigh, as he
wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his coat.
"Better not speak with your mouth full, then. Ah! poor Gadarn," said
Bladud, in an obviously indifferent tone of voice. "I'm sorry for him.
Girls like his daughter, who are self-willed, and given to running away,
are a heavy affliction to parents. And, truly, I ought to feel sympathy
with him, for, although I am seeking for a youth of very different
character, we are both so far engaged in similar work--search for the
lost. And what of my father, mother, and sister?"
"All hale and hearty!" replied Beniah, with a sigh of relief, "and all
anxious for your return, especially Hafrydda."
At this point Dromas looked at the speaker with deepened interest.
"She is a good girl, your sister," continued Beniah, "and greatly taken
up just now with that old woman you met in my cave. Hafrydda has
strange fancies."
"She might have worse fancies than being taken up with poor old women,"
returned the prince. "I'm rather fond of them myself, and was
particularly attracted by the old woman referred to. She was--what!
choking again, Beniah? Come, I think you have had enough for one meal.
And so have we all, friends, therefore we had better away to roost if we
are to be up betimes in the morning."
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.
BLADUD'S RETURN AND TRIALS.
We need scarcely say that there was joy at the court of King Hudibras
when Bladud returned home, cured of his terrible disease.
The first person whom the prince hurried off to visit, after seeing his
father, and embracing his mother and sister, was the northern chief
Gadarn. That jovial character was enjoying a siesta after the mid-day
meal at the time, but willingly arose on the prince being announced.
"Glad to see you, Gadarn," said Bladud, entering the room that had been
apportioned to the chief, and sitting down on a bench for visitors,
which, according to custom, stood against the inner wall of the
apartment. "I hope your head is clear and your arm strong."
"Both are as they should be," answered Gadarn, returning the salutation.
"I thank you," replied the prince, "my arm is indeed strong, but my head
is not quite as clear as it might be."
"Love got anything to do with it?" asked Gadarn, with a knowing look.
"Not the love of woman, if that is what you mean."
"Truly that is what I do mean--though, of course, I admit that one's
horses and dogs have also a claim on our affections. What is it that
troubles you, my son?"
The affectionate conclusion of this reply, and the chief's manner, drew
the prince towards him, so that he became confidential.
"The truth is, Gadarn, that I am very anxious to know what news you have
of Cormac--for the fate of that poor boy hangs heavy on my mind.
Indeed, I should have refused to quit the Swamp, in spite of the king's
commands and my mother's entreaties, if you had not sent that message by
the Hebrew."
"Ah, Bladud, my young friend, that is an undutiful speech for a son to
make about his parents," said the chief, holding up a remonstrative
forefinger. "If that is the way you treat your natural parents, how can
I expect that--that--I mean--"
Here the chief was seized with a fit of sneezing, so violent, that it
made the prince quite concerned about the safety of his nose.
"Ha!" exclaimed Gadarn, as a final wind up to the last sneeze, "the air
of that Swamp seems to have been too strong for me. I'm growing old,
you see. Well--what was I saying?--never mind. You were referring to
that poor lad Cormac. Yes, I have news of him."
"Good news, I hope?" said the prince, anxiously. "O yes--very good--
excellent! That is to say--rather--somewhat indefinite news, for--for
the person who saw him told me--in fact, it is difficult to explain,
because people are often untrustworthy, and exaggerate reports, so that
it is not easy to make out what is true and what is false, or whether
both accounts may be true, or the whole thing false altogether. You
see, Bladud, our poor brains," continued the chief, in an argumentative
tone, "are so--so--queerly mixed up that one cannot tell--tell--why,
there was once a fellow in my army, whose manner of reporting any event,
no matter how simple, was so incomprehensible that it was impossible
to--to--but let me tell you an anecdote about him. His name was--"
"Forgive my interrupting you, chief, but I am so anxious to hear
something about my lost friend that--"
"Ha! Bladud, I fear that you are a selfish man, for you have not yet
asked about my lost daughter."
"Indeed I am not by any means indifferent about her; but--but, you know,
I have never seen her, and, to tell the plain truth, my anxiety about
the boy drove her out of my mind for the moment. Have you found her?"
"Ay, that I have; as well and hearty as ever she was, though somewhat
more beautiful and a trifle more mischievous. But I will introduce her
to you to-morrow. There is to be a grand feast, is there not, at the
palace?"
"Yes; something of the sort, I believe, in honour of my return,"
answered the prince, a good deal annoyed by the turn the conversation
had taken.
"Well, then, you shall see her then; for she has only just arrived, and
is too tired to see any one," continued Gadarn, with a suppressed yawn;
"and you'll be sure to fall in love with her; but you had better not,
for her affections are already engaged. I give you fair warning, so be
on your guard."
The prince laughed, and assured his friend that there was no fear, as he
had seen thousands of fair girls both in East and West, but his heart
had never yet been touched by one of them.
At this the chief laughed loudly, and assured Bladud that his case had
now reached a critical stage: for when young men made statements of that
kind, they were always on the point of being conquered.
"But leave me now, Bladud," he continued, with a yawn so vast that the
regions around the uvula were clearly visible; "I'm frightfully sleepy,
and you know you have shortened my nap this afternoon."
The prince rose at once.
"At all events," he said, "I am to understand, before I go, that Cormac
_has_ been seen?"
"O yes! Certainly; no doubt about that!"
"And is well?"
"Quite well."
Fain to be content with this in the meantime, Bladud hurried to the
apartment of his sister.
"Hafrydda!" he exclaimed, "has Gadarn gone out of his mind?"
"I believe not," she replied, sitting down beside her brother and taking
his hand. "Why do you ask?"
"Because he talks--I say it with all respect--like an idiot."
Hafrydda laughed; and her brother thereupon gave her a full account of
the recent interview.
"Now, my sister, you were always straightforward and wise. Give me a
clear answer. Has Cormac been found?"
"No, he has not been found; but--"
"Then," interrupted Bladud, in a savage tone that was very foreign to
his nature, "Gadarn is a liar!"
"Oh, brother! say not so."
"How can I help it? He gave me to understand that Cormac _has_ been
found--at least, well, no, not exactly found, but _seen_ and heard of.
I'm no better than the rest of you," continued Bladud, with a sarcastic
laugh. "It seems as if there were something in the air just now which
prevents us all from expressing ourselves plainly."
"Well, then, brother," said Hafrydda, with a smile, "if he told you that
Cormac has been seen and heard of, and is well, surely that may relieve
your mind till to-morrow, when I know that some one who knows all about
the boy is to be at our festival. We begin it with games, as usual.
Shall you be there?"
"I'd rather not," replied the prince almost testily; "but, of course, it
would be ungracious not to appear. This, however, I do know, that I
shall take no part in the sports."
"As you please, brother. We are only too glad to have you home again,
to care much about that. But, now, I have something of importance to
tell you about myself."
Bladud was interested immediately; and for the moment forgot his own
troubles as he gazed inquiringly into the fair countenance of the
princess.
"I am going to wed, brother."
"Indeed! You do not surprise me, though you alarm me--I know not why.
Who is the man?--not Gunrig, I hope."
"Alas! no. Poor Gunrig is dead."
"Dead! Ah, poor man! I am glad we met at the Swamp."
Bladud looked sad for a moment, but did not seem unduly oppressed by the
news.
"The man who has asked me to wed is your friend Dromas."
"What!" exclaimed the prince, in blazing surprise, not unmingled with
delight. "The man has been here only a few hours! He must have been
very prompt!"
"It does not take many hours to ask a girl to wed; and I like a prompt
man," returned the princess, looking pensively at the floor.
"But tell me, how came it all about? How did he manage it in so short a
time?"
"Well, brother dear--but you'll never tell any one, will you?"
"Never--never!"
"Well, you must know, when we first met, we--we--"
"Fell in love. Poor helpless things!"
"Just so, brother; we fell, somehow in--whatever it was; and he told me
with his eyes--and--and--I told him with mine. Then he went off to find
you; and came back, having found you--for which I was very grateful.
Then he went to father and asked leave to speak to me. Then he went to
mother. What they said I do not know; but he came straight to me, took
my hand, fixed his piercing black eyes on me, and said, `Hafrydda, I
love you.'"
"Was that _all_?" asked Bladud.
"Yes; that was all he _said_; but--but that was not the end of the
interview! It would probably have lasted till now, if you had not
interrupted us."
"I'm so very sorry, sister, but of course I did not know that--"
They were interrupted at that moment by the servitor, to whom the reader
has already been introduced. He entered with a brightly intelligent
grin on his expressive face, but, on beholding Bladud, suddenly
elongated his countenance into blank stupidity.
"The old woman waits outside, princess."
"Oh, send her here at once." (Then, when the servitor had left.) "This
is the person I mentioned who knows about Cormac."
Another moment and the little old woman in the grey shawl was ushered
in. She started visibly on beholding Bladud.
"Come in, granny. I did not expect you till to-morrow."
"I thought I was to see you alone," said the old woman, testily, in her
hard, metallic voice.
"That is true, granny, but I thought you might like to see my brother
Bladud, who has just returned home safe and well."
"No, I _don't_ want to see your brother. What do I care for people's
brothers? I want to see yourself, alone."
"Let me congratulate you, at all events," interposed the prince, kindly,
"on your having recovered your hearing, grannie. This is not the first
time we have met, Hafrydda, but I grieve to see that my old friend's
nerves are not so strong as they used to be. You tremble a good deal."
"Yes, I tremble more than I like," returned the old woman peevishly,
"and, perhaps, when you come to my age, young man, and have got the
palsy, you'll tremble more than I do."
"Nay, be not angry with me. I meant not to hurt your feelings; and
since you wish to be alone with my sister, I will leave you."
When he was gone Branwen threw back the grey shawl and stood up with
flashing, tearful eyes.
"Was it kind--was it wise, Hafrydda, to cause me to run so great a risk
of being discovered?"
"Forgive me, dear Branwen, I did not mean to do it, but you arrived
unexpectedly, and I let you come in without thinking. Besides, I knew
you could easily deceive him. Nobody could guess it was you--not even
your own mother."
"There must be some truth in that," returned the maiden, quickly
changing her mood, and laughing, "for I deceived my own father
yesterday. At the Swamp he found me out at once as Cormac, for I had to
speak in my natural voice, and my full face was exposed; but the grey
shawl and the metallic voice were too much for him. Dear, good,
patient, old man, you have no notion what a fearful amount of abuse he
took from me, without losing temper--and I gave him some awful
home-thrusts too! I felt almost tempted to kiss him and beg his pardon.
But now, Hafrydda, I am beginning to be afraid of what all this
deceiving and playing the double-face will come to. And I'm ashamed of
it too--I really am. What will Bladud think of me when he finds out?
Won't he despise and hate me?"
"Indeed he will not. I know his nature well," returned the princess,
kissing, and trying to reassure her friend, whose timid look and tearful
eyes seemed to indicate that all her self-confidence and courage were
vanishing. "He loves you already, and love is a preventive of hate as
well as a sovereign remedy for it."
"Ay, he is fond of Cormac, I know, but that is a very different thing
from loving Branwen! However, to-morrow will tell. If he cares only
for the boy and does not love the girl, I shall return with my father to
the far north, and you will never see Branwen more."
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
THE PLOT THICKENS.
During the residence of Gadarn at the court of King Hudibras, that wily
northern chief had led the king to understand that one of his
lieutenants had at last discovered his daughter Branwen in the hands of
a band of robbers, from whom he had rescued her, and that he expected
her arrival daily.
"But what made the poor child run away?" asked the king at one of his
interviews with his friend. "We were all very fond of her, and she of
us, I have good reason to believe."
"I have been told," replied the chief, "that it was the fear of Gunrig."
"Gunrig! Why, the man was to wed my daughter. She had no need to fear
him."
"That may be so, but I know--though it is not easy to remember how I
came to know it--that Gunrig had been insolent enough to make up to her,
after he was defeated by Bladud, and she was so afraid of him that she
ran away, and thus fell into the hands of robbers."
While the chief was speaking, Hudibras clenched his hands and glared
fiercely.
"Dared he to think of another girl when he was engaged to my daughter!"
he said between his teeth. "It is well that Gunrig is dead, for
assuredly I would have killed him."
"It is well indeed," returned Gadarn, "for if your killing had not been
sufficient, I would have made it more effectual. But he is out of the
way now, so we may dismiss him."
"True--and when may we expect Branwen back again, poor child?" asked the
king.
"In a day or two at latest. From what was told me by the runner who was
sent on in advance, it is possible that she may be here to-morrow, in
time for the sports."
The wily chief had settled it in his own mind that Branwen should arrive
exactly at the time when there was to be a presentation of chiefs; which
ceremony was to take place just before the commencement of the sports.
This arrangement he had come to in concert with a little old woman in a
grey shawl, who paid him a private visit daily.
"Do you know, Gadarn, who this youth Cormac is, whom Bladud raves so
much about?"
The northern chief was seized at that moment with one of those violent
fits of sneezing to which of late he had become unpleasantly subject.
"Oh! ye--ye--y-ha! yes;--excuse me, king, but since I went to that Hot
Swamp, something seems to have gone wrong wi'--wi'--ha! my nose."
"Something will go worse wrong with it, chief, if you go on like that.
I thought the last one must have split it. Well, what know you about
Cormac?"
"That he appears to be a very good fellow. I can say nothing more about
him than that, except that your son seems to think he owes his life to
his good nursing at a critical point in his illness."
"I know that well enough," returned the king, "for Bladud has impressed
it on me at least a dozen times. He seems to be very grateful. Indeed
so am I, and it would please me much if I had an opportunity of showing
my gratitude to the lad. Think you that there is any chance of finding
out where he has disappeared to?"
"Not the least chance in the world."
"Indeed!" exclaimed the king in surprise. "That is strange, for Bladud,
who has just left me, says that he has the best of reasons for believing
that we shall have certain news of him tomorrow. But go, Gadarn, and
consult my doctor about this complaint of yours, which interrupts
conversation so awkwardly. We can resume our talk at some other time."
Gadarn obediently went, holding his sides as if in agony, and sneezing
in a manner that caused the roof-tree of the palace to vibrate.
Returning to his own room he found the little old woman in grey awaiting
him.
"You've been laughing again, father," she said. "I see by the
purpleness of your face. You'll burst yourself at last if you go on
so."
"Oh! you little old hag--oh! Cormac--oh! Branwen, I hope you won't be
the death of me," cried the chief, flinging his huge limbs on a couch
and giving way to unrestrained laughter, till the tears ran down his
cheeks. "If they did not all look so grave when speaking about you, it
wouldn't be so hard to bear. It's the gravity that kills me. But come,
Branwen," he added, as he suddenly checked himself and took her hand,
"what makes you look so anxious, my child?"
"Because I feel frightened, and ashamed, and miserable," she answered,
with no symptom of her sire's hilarity. "I doubt if I should have
followed Bladud--but if I had not he would have died--and I don't like
to think of all the deceptions I have been practising--though I couldn't
very well help it--could I? Then I fear that Bladud will forget Cormac
when he learns to despise Branwen--"
"Despise Branwen!" shouted Gadarn, fiercely, as his hand involuntarily
grasped the hilt of his sword. "If he did, I would cleave him from his
skull to his waist--"
"Quiet you, my sweet father," said Branwen, with a little smile, "you
know that two can play at that game, and that you have a skull and a
waist as well as Bladud--though your waist is a good deal thicker than
his. I'm not so sure about the skull!"
"I accept your reproof, child, for boastfulness is hateful in a warrior.
But get up, my love. What would happen if some one came into the room
and found a little old hag sitting on my knee with her arm around my
neck?"
"Ah, true, father. I did not think of that. I'm rather given to not
thinking of some things. Perhaps that inquisitive servitor may be--no,
he's not there this time," said Branwen, reclosing the door and sitting
down on a stool beside the chief. "Now come, father, and learn your
lesson."
Gadarn folded his hands and looked at his child with an air of meek
humility.
"Well?"