OF FEARGUS AND TORFRIDA
So Feargus stayed behind with king Penda, and soon his name became known
through all the land. Though he was yet ungrown, men looked upon him as
a man, for so was he limbed; and such was he for hardihood and cunning
with all weapons that he soon excelled all the captains of the king. In
stature he towered above his fellows, and his strength was like that of
two men. He sought no fight nor feared any, yet his enemies were adread
of him; but not less loved was he of his friends, and his manners were
so mild, withal, that the poorest might speak with him familiarly.
Besides Feargus, were other captains of Penda, chief among whom were
his sons Peada and Wulfere; and Osbert, son to the king of the North
English,[1] with his brothers Godwine, Thorkill, and Tosti and his cousin
Edgar. These were rich and great, and there were also many kings and
nobles gathered about the city of Tamworth, the chief town of Mercia. Of
these was one Sigmund, king of the Lindiswaras, who, with his daughter
Torfrida, was much about the hall of Penda. So Feargus dwelt among the
Mercians and they fought many battles, and great was their gain, and the
cause of the Christians waned before them. But gradually the spirit of
the new faith fell upon its enemies and even Sigmund, the chief friend
of Penda, drifted slowly over, and with him went his daughter Torfrida.
So that when Penda made war on the Christian king of the East Anglians,
Sigmund no longer followed him and he was wrath. Now we have seen that
Torfrida had been much about the hall of Penda, for the old warrior
loved the little maiden, and felt his hearth brighter for her presence;
but when Sigmund withheld from Penda in his war on king Anna of East
Anglia, Torfrida was denied king Penda’s halls and great sorrow fell upon
Feargus. For the youth now learned that he loved the damsel, now when he
dare no longer make it known to Penda or to herself; for the king had
said that he must not enter Sigmund’s land; so Feargus went forth to the
fight heavy-hearted. And when they wended homeward after harrying and
burning the lands of the Christians he sighed for Torfrida; and so one
night he mounted his horse in secret and, taking a clarsach, or small
harp, and a minstrel’s cloak, rode away eastward, and still rode through
the next day until he won Sigmund’s land. Being dressed as a minstrel
no one heeded him, for minstrels were held in great honour amongst the
English as amongst the Albanich, and as he rode he made a little song.
He entered the town of Lindum, which was set on a high hill, and sought
out the king’s halls, and there in the garden beheld Torfrida walking to
and fro with head downcast and greeting,[2] and ever and anon wringing
her small hands. She was as fair as an April morning and not less fresh
and fragrant; like a golden river her hair fell over her white throat and
shoulders to her waist; deep blue were her eyes and her forehead low and
straight and square; pink cheeks she had, and parted lips—fit guardians
of her precious breath, if breathe indeed like common folk she did.
“Now,” thought Feargus, “if she weeps for me I am glad of my coming; but
gin she greets for other cause, and this new faith hath hardened her
against her old friends, then will the head of Feargus hang this night
over the lintel of king Sigmund, and Penda will know that Feargus hath
broken his word which as a youth he swore on his father’s sword, and his
name will go down without honour among the Albanich, and his enemy Osbert
will rejoice.” Then Feargus walked out towards the garden and, drawing
his harp, sang the simple song which he had made in riding through the
woods that morning. Done with great freedom from the old English into the
new it ran thus:—
MY HEART DOTH BEAT
“My heart doth beat for thou art fair,
As Luga’s shower[3] thy glowing hair,
As down thy soft white cheeks and red,
As fleecy clouds thy pale forehead.
“Oh, never man had love so meet,
Oh, never maiden face so sweet,
Oh, ne’er will be so sad a heart
As mine shouldst thou bid me depart.
“But shouldst thou whisper, ‘Lover, stay,
I cannot live an thou’rt away,
So I the whole world will defy
To have my sweetheart ever nigh;’
“Then all these clouds will turn to rose
As at an August evening’s close,
And mating song-birds in the brake
Will sing of love for thy dear sake.”
Torfrida paused in her walk when the first notes fell upon her ear. She
heard the song right through and smiled sadly and wept a little, and then
turned swiftly and ran through the green bushes and threw her arms round
the tall minstrel with a little cry of joy. And when she had found her
tongue she said—
“Feargus, O Feargus! what dost thou here? If the men of Sigmund do but
see thee, then neither I nor any other can save thee.”
“Then thou art of a mind, sweet Torfrida, to save the enemy of Sigmund
and the conqueror of the Christians.”
“Thou hast wronged me if ever thou hast thought that I could betray thee;
but what brings thee here?” she added, with a woman’s disingenuousness.
“Thyself, Torfrida.”
“Myself!”
“Nay now, thou well knowest ’tis thyself; never since the day thy father
took thee away has there been any joy in the world for Feargus, nor will
be till thou art back.”
“Back, ah! that I will never be, noble Feargus, slayer of Christians
though thou art—but get thee hence, for hast thou not broken Penda’s
bidding by coming into this land?”
“That have I, and that must I again, if I may not see thee without, for
thou, Torfrida, hast the heart of Feargus.”
“And thou that of Torfrida.”
Long time they stood with hands locked, and much they spake, till the
maidens of Torfrida came out to seek their mistress. Then said Torfrida,
“Never again must thou come, O Feargus, for an the men of Penda or of
my father caught thee, even though death were not dealt to thee, thou
wouldest be for ever disgraced.”
“I cannot live without seeing thee, sweet Torfrida, and must come.”
“Nay, rather will I ride forth to meet thee on Penda’s land than that
thou shouldst break thine oath to the king.”
“Brave indeed thou art, but I am loth to break my faith with the old man,
though sorry that thou shouldst run into danger.”
“Nay, little danger will it be to me in my father’s land, and in Penda’s
thy presence will shield me from all questions.”
And so they left it, and many times Torfrida rode out to meet her lover
on the verge of king Penda’s land.
And Penda waxed more and more bitter against the Christians, while
Feargus’s ardour grew less and less as he learnt something of their faith
from Torfrida, for hard she beset him. At length it fell one evening that
king Sigmund asked for his daughter, and her maidens could not find her;
high and low they looked, but in vain, till at nightfall she returned,
and Sigmund asked whither she had been, and Torfrida blushed and at
length told the king her father, and he was much angered.
“So thou hast been holding tryst with thy father’s foe, and thou a
Christian!”
Then Torfrida wept and asked forgiveness.
“Nay, I cannot forgive thee till thou hast broken this bond with young
Feargus. The Christian may not wed with the worshipper of false gods.
I little thought that child of mine could wish to wed with one who had
lifted his hand against me.”
And then Sigmund sent for the priest who dwelt with them, and he was
wrath and forbade her trysting with Feargus, and they kept her a
prisoner in her room until such times, said her father, as she promised
to abandon her lover.
And at the end of a month they came to her for an answer, and she said:
“Never will I break my troth with Feargus, or wed other, Christian or
heathen, for that I love him; and where love is, God will not and man may
not come between; if he is infidel, will he not surely need a Christian
to wife the more?”
And there was anger between Sigmund and Torfrida, for he was wishful that
she should strengthen his hands by wedding a Christian king. So Torfrida
sent her brother Edwy secretly to meet Feargus at their tryst, to bid him
beware, and Feargus turned homewards heavy-hearted.
Now it happened that at this time Penda sent Feargus as a messenger to
Northumbria, and there he fell in with one of the Christian priests of
his own race, who took a liking to the young Pict, and Feargus, being
by no means as bitter against the Christian as was his master Penda,
listened to all he had to say, and received it kindly. So that before
leaving he told the priest if it had not been for his duty to the
old king and to his father, he would have almost become a Christian,
whereupon the priest tried to show him that being of this mind his duty
to his Maker was before that to his king and father.
“Such is not the law of my father’s people,” said Feargus, “for if I
betray my trust to my master, how will I be fit to keep that to the God
of the Christians. If thou canst overcome the old king with thy reasoning
I will be glad, but if thou canst not, then must I yet stand by him to
the end, and his enemies will still be mine.”
Feargus went his way southward till he won home again, but from that day
much of the merry youthfulness of him died, and he walked with knotted
brow and doubting heart and no longer sang blithely the war songs of the
Albanich, but chose the plaintive and sorrowful ones instead, that suited
best his spirit. And he could see dimly that in the days to come the new
faith would rise triumphant over all lets and hindrances soever, for in
it was truth so great and so plain withal that men had but to hearken to
be overcome, and in the future he saw trouble for Penda and trouble for
himself.
And when he reached home he found that Penda was making ready to march
upon king Sigmund and had sworn to burn his city and harry his land,
and Feargus was much troubled; for he knew that he must lift his hand
against the kin of Torfrida—and what might not happen to her in the
press and thick of the fight, when men spared neither old nor young;
and how would her people let her marry with him who entered their land
as a destroyer? And one day, as he was riding abroad, a man dressed as
a beggar came up and drew close to him and whispered as he passed, and
Feargus started, and, gathering his reins from the beast’s neck, rode on
all that night and, at the morning, came to a wood. By this he lingered,
until at noon he heard the sound of hoofs and saw Torfrida with two
maidens accompanying her on palfreys; and he took her in his arms and
kissed her, and saw that she was pale and careworn.
“I have come, O Feargus, to ask thee to spare my father and my kin for
love of me; for know I well and all the world that if king Penda marches
against us, my father will be overthrown; for his might is not like that
of Penda, nor his captains like Penda’s captains.”
Then the water burst forth his eyes as he answered, “I would do much to
serve king Penda, more would I do to serve thee; yet to Penda I plighted
myself before I plighted myself to thee, and on my father’s sword I
swore, so I cannot break my troth, sweet Torfrida, though my heart be
torn in twain with grief for thee. Let me tell thee, also, Torfrida, that
since I saw thee I have been persuaded that thy new faith is true, and
that a greater power than of Penda’s will be needed to tear it from men’s
minds. Yet I am his man; he is old and I would not desert him at this
hour, even though I could without dishonour; for the old man, grim though
he be at times, is steadfast in friendship as he is terrible in battle,
and from a youth he hath cared for me and taught me as his son and not
less steadfast shall he find me.”
“Thou hast said thou lovest me above all things else, yet wilt thou
destroy me and my kin; thou art a Christian, yet wilt thou destroy the
Christians.”
“A hard saying is that thou hast said: weep not so, my golden-haired
one—thy sickness hath turned thy mind in this matter—in a different mood
thou spokest when last we met in this place.”
“Call me no longer thy golden-haired one, and get thee hence, thou killer
of Christians; with the aid of thee and thine Sigmund might turn the
battle against Penda, but thou hast denied it; get thee hence; never more
shalt thou gaze upon Torfrida.”
“Say not so—thou art beside thyself, and thy father hath prevailed upon
thee to say these things—thou wilt not away, Torfrida, till I take my
farewell of thee!”
But Torfrida pulled her rein and smote her horse and rode on, and Feargus
neither moved nor spoke, but white like a dead man stood and gazed after
her.