that I have just come back, and am very tired and shall not appear till
you take me to him while the other people are being presented. Then you
will lead me forward and announce me with a loud voice, so that no one
shall fail to hear that I am Branwen, your daughter, you understand?
Now, mind you speak well out."
"I understand--with a shout, something like my battle-cry!"
"Not exactly so loud as that, but so as Bladud shall be sure to hear
you; and he will probably be near to his father at the time."
"Just so. What next?"
"Oh, that's all you will have to do. Just retire among the other
courtiers then, and leave the rest to me."
"That's a very short lesson, my little one; would you not like to be
introduced to Bladud too? He does not know you, you know."
"Certainly not; that would ruin all--you dear old goose. Just do
exactly what I tell you, and you will be sure to go right."
"How like your dear mother you are, my little one, in your modest
requirements!"
Having finished the lesson, the little old woman retired to a remote
part of the palace which, through Hafrydda's influence, had been
assigned to her, and the great northern chief, unbuckling his
sword-belt, called lustily for his mid-day meal.
Customs at that date, you see, were more free-and-easy than they are
now, and less ceremonious. The visitors at the palace of King Hudibras
were expected only to appear at the royal board at the evening meal
after all the business or pleasure of each day was over. At all other
times they were supposed to do as they pleased and shout for food as
they happened to require it.
It is perhaps unnecessary to comment on the exceeding convenience of
this custom, leaving, as it did, every one to follow the bent of
inclination, from earliest morn till dewy eve, with the prospect of an
enjoyable _reunion_ after dark--during which, of course, the adventures
of each were narrated, exaggerated, underrated, or commented on, as the
case might be, and the social enjoyments were enhanced by warlike and
sentimental song as well as by more or less--usually more than less--
thrilling story.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.
THE DENOUEMENT.
It was a sunny, frosty, glorious forenoon when King Hudibras awoke to
the consciousness of the important day that was before him, and the
importunate vacuum that was within him.
Springing out of bed with a right royal disregard of appearances he
summoned his servitor-in-waiting and ordered breakfast.
In the breakfast-room he met the queen, Hafrydda, Bladud, and Dromas--
the latter being now considered one of the family--and these five
proceeded to discuss and arrange the proceedings of the day during the
progress of the meal.
"You will join in the sports, of course, son Dromas," said the king,
"and show us how the Olympic victors carry themselves. Ha! I should
not wonder if a few of our lads will give you some trouble to beat
them."
"You may be right, father," returned the young man, modestly, "for one
of your lads has already beaten me at most things."
"You mean Bladud?" returned the king.
"Dromas is only so far right," interposed the prince. "It is true that
where mere brute force is required I usually have the advantage, but
where grace and speed come into play I am lost."
Of course Dromas would not admit this, and of course Hafrydda's fair
cheeks were crimsoned when the youth, accidentally looking up, caught
the princess accidentally gazing at him; and, still more of course, the
king, who was sharp as a needle in such matters, observed their
confusion and went into a loud laugh, which he declared was only the
result of merry thoughts that were simmering in his brain.
The reception was to be held in the large hall of the palace. No ladies
were to be presented, for it must be remembered that these were
barbarous times, and woman had not yet attained to her true position!
Indeed, there was to be no ceremony whatever--no throne, no crown, no
gold-sticks in waiting or other sticks of any kind. It was to be a sort
of free-and-easy conversazione in the presence of the royal family,
where, just before the sports began, any one who was moved by that
ambition might hold personal intercourse with the king, and converse
with him either on the affairs of State, or on private matters, or
subjects of a more light and social kind--such as the weather.
At the appointed hour--which was indicated by that rough and ready but
most natural of sun-dials, the shadow of a tree falling on a certain
spot--the royal family adjourned to the large hall, and the
unceremonious ceremony began.
First of all, on the doors being thrown open a crowd of nobles--or
warriors--entered, and while one of them went to the king, and began an
earnest entreaty that war might be declared without delay against a
certain chief who was particularly obnoxious to him, another sauntered
up to the princess and began a mild flirtation in the primitive manner,
which was characteristic of the sons of Mars in that day--to the
unutterable jealousy of Dromas, who instantly marked him down as a fit
subject for overwhelming defeat at the approaching games. At the same
time the family doctor paid his respects to the queen and began to
entertain her with graphic accounts of recent cases--for doctors had no
objection to talking "shop" in those days.
We have said that no ladies were admitted to places of public
importance, such as grand-stands or large halls, but we have also
pointed out that the ladies of the royal family and their female friends
formed an exception to the rule. It was, as it were, the dawn of
women's freedom--the insertion of the small end of that wedge which
Christianity and civilisation were destined to drive home--sometimes too
far home!
Gradually the hall began to fill, and the hum of conversation became
loud, when there was a slight bustle at the door which caused a
modification though not a cessation of the noise.
It was caused by the entrance of Gadarn leading Branwen by the hand.
The girl was now dressed in the costume that befitted her age and sex,
and it is best described by the word simplicity. Her rich auburn hair
fell in short natural curls on her neck--the luxuriant volume of it
having, as the reader is aware, been sacrificed some time before. She
wore no ornament of any kind save, on one side of her beautiful head, a
small bunch of wild-flowers that had survived the frost.
At the time of their entrance, Bladud was stooping to talk with Hafrydda
and did not observe them, but when he heard Gadarn's sonorous voice he
turned with interest to listen.
"King Hudibras," said the northern chief, in a tone that produced
instant silence, "I have found the lost one--my daughter Branwen."
As they moved through the crowd of tall warriors Bladud could not at
first catch sight of the girl.
"Ha! Hafrydda," he said, with a pleasant smile, "your young friend and
companion found at last. I congratulate you. I'm so glad that--"
He stopped, the colour fled from his cheeks, his chest heaved. He
almost gasped for breath. Could he believe his eyes, for there stood a
girl with the features, the hair, the eyes of Cormac, but infinitely
more beautiful!
For some time the poor prince stood utterly bereft of speech.
Fortunately no one observed him, as all were too much taken up with what
was going on. The king clasped the girl's hands and kissed her on both
cheeks. Then the queen followed, and asked her how she could have been
so cruel as to remain so long away. And Branwen said a few words in
reply.
It seemed as if an electric shock passed through Bladud, for the voice
also was the voice of Cormac!
At this point the prince turned to look at his sister. She was gazing
earnestly into his face.
"Hafrydda--is--is that really Branwen?"
"Yes, brother, that is Branwen. I must go to her."
As she spoke, she started off at a run and threw her arms round her
friend's neck.
"I cannot--cannot believe it is you," she exclaimed aloud--and then,
whispering in Branwen's ear, "oh! you wicked creature, to make such a
hypocrite of me. But come," she added aloud, "come to my room. I must
have you all to myself alone."
For one moment, as they passed, Branwen raised her eyes, and, as they
met those of the prince, a deep blush overspread her face. Another
moment and the two friends had left the hall together.
We need not weary the reader by describing the games and festivities
that followed. Such matters have probably been much the same, in all
important respects, since the beginning of time. There was a vast
amount of enthusiasm, and willingness to be contented with little, on
the part of the people, and an incredible desire to talk and delay
matters, and waste time, on the part of judges, umpires, and starters,
but there was nothing particularly noteworthy, except that Bladud
consented to run one race with his friend Dromas, and was signally
beaten by him, to the secret satisfaction of Hafrydda, and the open
amusement of the king.
But Branwen did not appear at the games, nor did she appear again during
the remainder of that day, and poor Bladud was obliged to restrain his
anxiety, for he felt constrained to remain beside his father, and,
somehow, he failed in his various attempts to have a few words of
conversation with his mother.
At last, like all sublunary things, the games came to an end, and the
prince hastened to his sister's room.
"May I come in?" he asked, knocking.
"Yes, brother."
There was a peculiar tone in her voice, and a curious expression in her
eyes, that the prince did not fail to note.
"Hafrydda," he exclaimed, eagerly, "there is _no_ Cormac?"
"True, brother, there is no Cormac--there never was. Branwen and Cormac
are one!"
"And you knew it--and _she_ knew it, all along. Oh, why did you agree
to deceive me?"
"Nay, brother, I did not mean to deceive you--at least not at first.
Neither did Branwen. I knew nothing about it till she came home, after
being with you at the Swamp, and told me that she was impelled by sheer
pity to follow you, intending to nurse you; thinking at first that we
had let you go to die alone. Then she was caught in the woods by
robbers, and she only escaped from them by putting on a boy's dress and
running away. They gave chase, however, caught her up, and, had it not
been for you, would have recaptured her. The rest you know. But now,
brother, I am jealous for my dear friend. She has expressed fear that,
in her great pity for you, she may be thought to have acted an unwomanly
part, and that you will perhaps despise her."
"Unwomanly! despise!" exclaimed Bladud in amazement. "Hafrydda, do you
regard me as a monster of ingratitude?"
"Nay, brother, that do I not. I think that you could never despise one
who has felt such genuine pity for you as to risk and endure so much."
"Hafrydda, do you think there is no stronger feeling than pity for me in
the heart of Branwen?" asked Bladud in a subdued, earnest voice.
"That you must find out for yourself, brother," answered the princess.
"Yet after all, if you are only fond of Cormac, what matters the feeling
that may be in the heart of Branwen? Are you in love with her already,
Bladud, after so short an acquaintance?"
"In love with her!" exclaimed the prince. "There is no Cormac. There
is but one woman in the wide world now--"
"That is not complimentary to your mother and myself, I fear,"
interrupted his sister.
"But," continued the prince, paying no regard to the interruption, "is
there any chance--any hope--of--of--something stronger than pity being
in her heart?"
"I say again, ask that of herself, Bladud; but now I think of it," added
the princess, leaping up in haste, "I am almost too late to keep an
appointment with Dromas!"
She went out hurriedly, and the prince, full of new-born hopes mingled
with depressing anxieties, went away into the neighbouring woods to
meditate--for, in the haste of her departure, Hafrydda had neglected to
tell him where Branwen was to be found, and he shrank from mentioning
her name to any one else.
But accident--as we call it--sometimes brings about what the most
laboured design fails to accomplish.
Owing to a feeling of anxiety which she could not shake off, Branwen had
gone out that evening to cool her fevered brow in the woods, just a few
minutes before the prince entered them. It was a strange coincidence;
but are not all coincidences strange?
Seating herself on a fallen tree she cast up her eyes towards the sky
where a solitary star, like a beacon of hope, was beginning to twinkle.
She had not been there more than a few minutes when a rustle in the
neighbouring thicket startled her. Almost before she had time to look
round the prince stood before her. She trembled, for now she felt that
the decisive hour had come--whether for good or evil.
Seating himself beside her, the prince took one of her hands in his and
looked steadily into her downcast face.
"Corm--Bran--" he began, and stopped.
She looked up.
"Branwen," he said, in a low, calm voice, "will it pain you very much to
know that I am glad--inexpressibly glad--that there is no youth Cormac
in all the wide world?"
Whether she was pained or not the girl did not say, but there was a
language in her eyes which induced Bladud to slip his disengaged arm
round--well, well, there are some things more easily conceived than
described. She seemed about to speak, but Bladud stopped her mouth--
how, we need not tell--not rudely, you may be sure--suffice to say that
when the moon arose an hour later, and looked down into the forest that
evening she saw the prince and Branwen still seated, hand in hand, on
the fallen tree, gazing in rapt attention at the stars.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
THE LAST.
When Bladud walked out to the Hebrew's hut next day and informed him of
what had taken place, that long-suffering man heaved a deep sigh and
expressed his intense relief that the whole affair was at last cleared
up and had come to an end.
"I cannot view matters in the same light that you do, Beniah," said the
prince, "for, in my opinion, things have only now come to a satisfactory
beginning. However, I suppose that you are thinking of the strange
perplexities in which you have been involved so long."
"I would not style them perplexities, prince, but intrigues--obvious and
unjustifiable intrigues--in which innocent persons have been brought
frequently to the verge of falsehood--if they have not, indeed, been
forced to overstep the boundary."
"Surely, Beniah, circumstances, against which none of us had power to
contend, had somewhat to do with it all, as well as intrigue."
"I care not," returned the Hebrew, "whether it was the intrigues of your
court or the circumstances of it, which were the cause of all the mess
in which I and others have been involved, but I am aweary of it, and
have made up my mind to leave the place and retire to a remote part of
the wilderness, where I may find in solitude solace to my exhausted
spirit, and rest to my old bones."
"That will never do, Beniah," said the prince, laughing. "You take too
serious a view of the matter. There is no fear of any more intrigues or
circumstances arising to perplex you for some time to come. Besides, I
want your services very much--but, before broaching that point, let me
ask why you have invited me to come to see you here. Hafrydda gave me
your message--"
"My message!" repeated the Hebrew in surprise.
"Yes--to meet you here this forenoon on urgent business. If it is
anything secret you have to tell me, I hope you have not got your
wonderful old witch in the back cave, for she seems to have discovered
as thorough a cure for deafness as I found for leprosy at the Hot
Swamp."
"Wonderful old witch!" repeated Beniah, with a dazed look, and a tone of
exasperation that the prince could not account for. "Do you, then, not
know about that old woman?"
"Oh! yes, I know only too much about her," replied Bladud. "She has
been staying at the palace for some time, as you know, and rather a
lively time the old hag has given us. She went in to see my mother one
day and threw her into convulsions, from which, I think, she has hardly
recovered yet. Then she went to my father's room--the chief Gadarn and
I were with him at the time--and almost before she had time to speak
they went into fits of laughter at her till the tears ran down their
cheeks. I must say it seemed to me unnecessarily rude and unkind, for,
although the woman is a queer old thing, and has little more of her face
visible than her piercing black eyes, I could see nothing to laugh at in
her shrivelled-up, bent little body. Besides this, she has kept the
domestics in a state of constant agitation, for most of them seem to
think her a limb of the evil spirit. But what makes you laugh so?"
"Oh! I see now," returned the Hebrew, controlling himself by a strong
effort. "I understand now why the old woman wished to be present at our
interview. Come forth, thou unconscionable hag!" added Beniah, in the
voice of a stentor, "and do your worst. I am past emotion of any kind
whatever now."
As he spoke he gazed, with the resigned air of a martyr, at the inner
end of his cavern. Bladud also looked in that direction. A moment
later and the little old woman with the grey shawl appeared; thrust out
the plank bridge; crossed over, and tottered towards them.
"Dearie me! Beniah, there's no need to yell so loud. You know I've got
back my hearing. What want ye with me? I'm sure I have no wish to pry
into the secrets of this young man or yourself. What d'ye want?"
But Beniah stood speechless, a strange expression on his face, his lips
firmly compressed and his arms folded across his breast.
"Have you become as dumb as I was deaf, old man?" asked the woman,
petulantly.
Still the Hebrew refused to speak.
"Have patience with him, old woman," said Bladud, in a soothing tone.
"He is sometimes taken with unaccountable fits--"
"Fits!" interrupted the old woman. "I wish he had the fits that I have
sometimes. Perhaps they would cure him of his impudence. They would
cure you too, young man, of your stupidity."
"Stupidity!" echoed Bladud, much amused. "I have been credited with
pride and haste and many other faults in my day, but never with
stupidity."
"Was it not stupid of you to go and ask that silly girl to wed you--that
double-faced thing that knows how to cheat and deceive and--"
"Come, come, old woman," said the prince, repressing with difficulty a
burst of indignation. "You allow your old tongue to wag too freely. I
suppose," he added, turning to Beniah, "that we can conclude our
conversation outside?"
But the Hebrew still remained immovable and sternly dumb.
Unable to understand this, Bladud turned again to the old woman, but,
lo! the old woman was gone, and in her place stood Branwen, erect, with
the grey shawl thrown back, and a half-timid smile on her face.
To say that Bladud was thunderstruck is not sufficient to indicate his
condition. He stood as if rooted to the spot with his whole being
concentrated in his wide-open blue eyes.
"Is my presumption too great, Bladud?" asked the girl, hesitatingly. "I
did but wish to assure you that I have no other deceptions to practise.
That I fear--I hope--that--"
The prince, recovering himself, sprang forward and once again stopped
her mouth--not with his hand; oh! by no means!--while Beniah, with that
refinement of wisdom which is the prerogative of age, stepped out to
ascertain whether it happened to be rain or sunshine that ruled at the
time. Curiously enough he found that it was the latter.
That evening the doctor of the royal household was summoned by an
affrighted servitor to the apartment of Gadarn, who had been overheard
choking. The alarmed man of medicine went at once, and, bursting into
the room without knocking, found the great northern chief sitting on the
edge of his couch purple in the face and with tears in his eyes. The
exasperated man leaped up intending to kick the doctor out, but,
changing his mind, he kicked the horrified servitor out instead, and,
taking the doctor into his confidence, related to him an anecdote which
had just been told to him by Bladud.
"It will be the death of the king," said Gadarn. "You had better go to
him. He may need your services."
But the king was made of sterner stuff than his friend imagined. He put
strong constraint upon himself, and, being not easily overcome by
feeling--or anything else under the sun--he lived to relate the same
anecdote to his wife and daughter.
The day following, Bladud resumed with the Hebrew the conversation that
had been interrupted by Branwen.
"I was going to have said to you, Beniah, that I want your services very
much."
"You had said that much, prince, before Bran--I mean Cor--that is, the
old woman--interrupted us. How can I serve you?"
"By going back with me to the Hot Swamp and helping to carry out a grand
scheme that I have in my brain."
The Hebrew shook his head.
"I love not your grand schemes," he said, somewhat sternly. "The last
grand scheme that your father had was one which, if successfully carried
out, would have added a large portion of Albion to his dominions, and
would have swept several tribes off the face of the earth. As it was,
the mere effort to carry it out cost the lives of many of the best young
men on both sides, and left hundreds of mothers, wives, sisters, and
children to mourn their irreparable losses, and to wonder what all the
fighting was about. Indeed, there are not a few grey-bearded men who
share that wonder with the women and children, and who cannot, by any
effort of their imagination, see what advantage is gained by either
party when the fight is over."
"These grey-beards must be thick-skulled, then," replied the prince with
a smile, "for does not the victor retain the land which he has
conquered?"
"Yea, truly, and he also retains the tombs of the goodly young men who
have been slain, and also the widows and sweethearts, and the national
loss resulting from the war--for all which the land gained is but a
paltry return. Moreover, if the All-seeing One cared only for the
victors, there might be some understanding of the matter--though at the
cost of justice--but, seeing that He cares for the vanquished quite as
much as for the victorious, the gain on one side is counterbalanced by
the loss on the other side, while the world at large is all the poorer,
first, by the loss of much of its best blood, second, by the creation of
a vast amount of unutterable sorrow and bitter hatred, and, third, by a
tremendous amount of misdirected energy.
"Look, for instance, at the Hot Swamp. Before the late war it was the
abode of a happy and prosperous population. Now, it is a desolation.
Hundreds of its youth are in premature graves, and nothing whatever has
been gained from it by your father that I can see."
"But surely men must defend themselves and their women and children
against foes?" said Bladud.
"Verily, I did not say they should not," replied Beniah. "Self-defence
is a duty; aggressive war, in most cases (I do not say in all), is a
blunder or a sin."
"I think that my mind runs much on the same line with yours, Beniah, as
to these things, but I am pretty sure that a good many years will pass
over us before the warriors of the present day will see things in this
light."
One is apt to smile at Bladud's prophetic observation, when one reflects
that about two thousand seven hundred years have elapsed since that day,
and warriors, as well as many civilians, have not managed to see it in
this light yet!
"However," continued the prince, "the scheme which runs in my head is
not one of war--aggressive or defensive--but one of peace, for the
betterment of all mankind. As you know, I have begun to build a city at
the Hot Swamp, so that all who are sick may go to that beautiful country
and find health, as I did. And I want your help in this scheme."
"That is well, prince, but I see not how I can aid you. I am not an
engineer, who could carry out your devices, nor an architect who could
plan your dwellings. And I am too old for manual labour--though, of
course, it is not for that you want me."