cutting her face. He had held her then in his arms as a mother would
have done, and an indescribable feeling of tenderness had flooded his
heart, whilst her warm tears had wetted his cheek as he pressed her
close to him. The sensation of that soft little body clasped against his
own during the cold nights they had slept side by side, his cloak
covering them both, was to him like treading on Holy ground! And now
with growing apprehension he saw the great forest opening its sombre
paths before him.
The falcon flew leading the way, its white plumage showing like some
gigantic flower against the dark branches.
What secret terrors were hidden within that green solitude? How would
they find their way out? Indeed helpless did he feel; how could he
protect this frail child against the cold that was always becoming more
biting, searching its way under their skin trying to freeze their blood!
Onwards! onwards! it was no good standing still; but the effort was
greater with every step.
Now the green forest had received them within its thickness; immense
trees looked down upon them waving their branches, whispering together,
astonished at the sight of two such defenceless travellers venturing
themselves within their dreaded obscurity.
The snow lay thick on the ground, always deeper the higher they climbed,
and there came a moment when the little girl, clinging to her kind
companion, cried bitterly, declaring that she could go no farther.
In despair Eric looked around him--on all sides the awful solitude shut
him in; rows on rows of giants frowned down upon his sorry plight, the
wind rustled through their branches that looked like monstrous arms
gesticulating in angry discussions over the heads of these two forlorn
human beings. To Eric they suddenly appeared like enemies come together
from all parts of the world to plan his destruction.
Each tree was a living creature threatening him, trying to stop him, to
turn him back! He clenched his teeth: he would not go back! He would not
give up! He would not allow fear to fill his soul! Was he not to be of
those who win? Had not the hermit believed in his courage? and his
silent followers had they not put all their trust in his strength?
There they stood, fantastic forms hovering on the verge of Eternity,
faintly discernible against the trunks of the trees, their haunted eyes
turned towards him, their transparent bodies all bending his way in
hushed expectation.
The wind came down in howling gusts, stirring up the withered needles
that lay on the snow, bending the proud trees before its ruthless
violence, dashing powdery clouds over the trembling child; then rushing
in shrieking hordes through the sombre pines so that their boughs
clashed together like an angry mob. Night was coming on; all around Eric
could see nothing but trees, trees--an army of Titans allied against him
to hinder him reaching his goal. To add to the horror of his pitiful
situation, he thought he heard from afar the howling of wolves, and that
he saw creeping forms slinking amongst the thickening shadows.
Calling upon all his courage, he bent down and gathered the exhausted
child into his arms, wrapping the folds of his cloak tightly round her
shuddering limbs; and thus weighted he struggled on, his breath coming
in gasps, his pulses beating, a mist before his eyes.
He toiled through the snow, up, up, winding his way between the trunks
of the hostile trees--often stumbling--hitting his weary feet against
broken twigs--straining with a feeling that his veins would burst, so
great was his exertion.
But he would not give way! He would not lay down his precious burden
before he could find some cover for the night! To rest there upon that
bed of snow would be certain death; his weariness was such, he knew if
once he fell it would be to rise no more--he would hide his head in that
icy shroud dragging down the precious life with his, to never, never
move again.
On--on ... but was the child of lead? Why had his arms become so weak?
Why were dark vapours floating before his eyes?... Why had he a beating
heart in each tingling nerve of his aching body? Why did his tongue
cleave to the roof of his mouth, whilst fire seemed to course down his
throat? And now a great darkness suddenly wiped all things from his
sight, and he fell with the impression that he was being suddenly hurled
into the night....
But it was not long that he lay thus--instinct was stronger than all;
besides, the warm arms of the frightened child seemed to drag him back
to life, infusing new vitality into his spent frame; so he struggled to
his knees, the little girl still clinging to his neck.
He looked around him, desperation in his eyes; they had reached an
opening in the wood--a circular glade surrounded by gaunt trees, and
nowhere a path to be seen, and nowhere the smallest sign how he could
get out of this drear forest, that shut him in like forbidding walls.
He pressed the maiden's face close to his, taking comfort from the soft
cheek that was laid against his.
And the child stood beside the kneeling man, and gently with timid hands
stroked his tumbled locks, all the time peering at him with anxious
attention.
Eric was still too weak to rise to his feet, so he remained kneeling,
scanning the solitudes with hopeless bewilderment. The wind still howled
through the tree-tops, from which dismal voices seemed to be chanting
ever the same dreary ditty, and sometimes it rose to such a din that it
was more like unto the wild songs of savage hordes carrying their dead
to the grave.
The falcon was nowhere to be seen; even that companion had flown away,
so that they were alone--quite alone--in this fantastic, oppressive
wilderness.
A last shine of daylight still rested over all, and with horror
clutching at his heart Gundian now perceived that running in lines all
over the snow that lay before him were small footprints resembling those
of a dog! Ah! but no dogs could inhabit so forsaken a forest; the kindly
friend of man would not lose his way amongst these impenetrable
thickets; those marks in the snow had quite another explanation,
confirming the fear he had had before;--but something must be done:
action would revive him,--he could not remain thus to perish miserably
without trying at least to save the treasured child.
With a superhuman effort he rose to his feet,--for a moment his young
body swayed like a sapling in the wind; but he would not--would not give
way! What was to be done? He had heard that great fires frightened off
beasts of prey--a small flame even was supposed to keep them at bay; and
he remembered the legend of a maiden wandering alone in a forest with
only a small lamp in her hand protecting her from harm,--surely he would
not be weaker than she. Bending down to his companion he told her to
help him to gather dry twigs in the underwood; he blew upon her frozen
fingers which were stiff and icy like his own.
From his pocket he took the precious box, and together they shared one
of the remaining tablets which revived them in an extraordinary way; a
smile even came back to the face of the wee innocent at his side.
Now with feverish haste they were gathering fallen branches from under
the hostile trees, that angrily bent their mighty heads towards them,
but were unable to reach down to anything so far beneath.
The bundle grew and grew, and in their absorbing work they for a moment
forgot the terrors around; once even the small girl's voice rang out in
a merry laugh, as she dragged a heavy log behind her, almost as large as
herself. Soon Eric was crouching beside the stack they had collected and
trying with his icy fingers to make the sparks fly from his flint;--many
a time did he hit the hard stone in vain, but at last a welcome sound
was heard--a soft crackling that became louder, till at last a bright
flame shot out over the dry timber they had so patiently heaped up. Both
frozen wayfarers stretched out their numbed hands to the saving warmth.
As they did so they smiled at each other from either side of the burning
faggots; the cheering glow lit up their pinched and tired faces, giving
them again the radiant look of health.
"Come to me, little one," cried the man, and the small creature flew
into his arms; then settling himself down, his back against a tree,
quite near the blazing fire, he folded the forlorn little being tightly
within his arms, his cloak drawn close over her, regardless of his own
comfort, only thinking how to protect her against the deadly frost of
the night.
He took his sword from its sheath and laid it down beside him within
reach of his hand.
Long he sat thus, trying to penetrate the darkness, whilst the rhythmic
breathing of his tired charge told him that for a while oblivion had
mercifully descended upon her.
But it was a weary time before he dared close his own burning eyes, so
afraid was he that something dreadful might happen to the child whilst
he slept.
At length Nature would have her way--his head sank on his breast, the
strained arms relaxed their hold, and all the misery was wiped from his
mind by the kindly wings of sleep.
XVI
Eric awoke because the intensity of the cold was eating into his bones.
The fire had died down, only a faint glow remained under the ashes; and
there, oh horror!... seated on the other side of the small smouldering
heap that once had been their protection, sat a great tawny wolf with
eyes that looked straight into his, two tiny specks of phosphorescent
green.
The awful beast lifted its head and gave a long-drawn, unearthly yell
that echoed round the silence like the crying of a tormented soul in
great agony; again and again he sent out his ghastly call, and now he
was answered by other calls coming from every part of that fearful
forest. The silent thickets gave forth from their secret depths stealthy
pattering forms, slinking along, flashing their teeth, their tongues
lolling from their dripping mouths.
A late moon had risen above the peak of the mountain, and was now
throwing her pale rays over the bleached opening that spread before the
young man's feet, so that he could clearly see how these wraiths
assembled from all sides, called together by the baying of their leader.
So fascinated was Gundian by what he saw that for a while the immense
danger he ran was almost forgotten; only the frightened cry of the
child, who had awakened to see the awful creature staring at her with
glistening eyes, brought him back to the reality of things.
His exhausted condition, the heavy drowsiness produced by the cold that
was gradually penetrating through all his veins, had thrown a torpor
over his senses, so that all appeared as in a dream.
He returned the green stare of his opponent, unable to make an effort to
throw off the weakness that imprisoned his frozen limbs.
The crumbling fire was dying out more and more; the last glowing twigs
fell together with a faint fizzing sound, that made the leading monster
rise in fear and move back a few steps, still kept in awe by the narrow
frontier of heat that alone separated him from his victims.
For one more deadly moment there was a pulsing silence and then ... the
beast sprang with a great leap on the seated man.
In a moment Eric was on his feet, sword in hand, throwing himself before
the terrified child, that at all costs he meant to protect! And with a
furious blow, although he had been quite unprepared for so sudden an
attack, he split the skull of his raging enemy.
Eric had never used arms before; war had not been his vocation; he loved
peace and pleasure and all things that make life beautiful and sweet.
But now he stood up like a tried warrior, his blade flashing under the
rays of the moon; alone he advanced against the ferocious beasts that
all rushed in upon him with sudden rage to avenge their fallen chief.
He knew not from whence he took his strength; but he stood before them
like a figure cast in bronze, defending himself, keeping them at bay
with the point of his precious sword. But for each savage animal that
fell beneath his frantic defence another seemed to spring up in its
place--always more and more, till their baying filled the silent night
with hideous clamour.
Hell seemed to have opened its doors. All round Eric and the child, who
was crouching in an agony of fear close behind him, were blazing eyes,
sharpened fangs, ravenous bleeding jaws, a medley of dark fighting
bodies falling over each other with angry yells, as they one and all
rallied against the single youthful hero, who stood facing them, the
blood streaming from the blade of his sword.
Blood fell also in great dark drops from his lacerated hands, where more
than one murderous tooth had left its mark. His pale brow was streaked
with red; from off his shoulder his coat had been partially wrenched,
and a great gash gaped through the torn tissue.
Still he stood his ground; many a rugged body lay dead at his feet, but
always more roaring foes seemed to descend upon him, a whole army of
hungry, voracious fiends that had sworn his destruction.
His force was giving out, he clearly felt that the unequal battle could
last no longer; only a miracle could now save them both.
His arm became inert; the blood flowed from the open wound in his head
in a trickling stream down into his eyes, clouding his sight, so that he
could no longer direct his strokes.
Yes, all was over now; he was not to be of those who win.... This was to
be the end ... the end.... But what was this? From beneath his clenched
fingers a dazzling glare had suddenly broken forth--a glare so intense
and blinding that for a moment he could see nothing but its luminous
rays! Had really a miracle come to pass? Was he dreaming? But no ... his
awful assailants were rapidly retreating with furious groans, as if
unable to bear the sight of the thing he held in his hand!
What was it that suddenly cowed their savage force? Then all at once he
understood.... The crystal hilt of his sword was blazing with light!
He fell on his knees, his forehead pressed against the shining cross,
his eyes closed, his head bent in awful fatigue. But peace had come over
him--a great and wonderful peace. The beasts of prey were backing,
always farther, from this awesome light that had so miraculously fallen
upon them.
With hanging heads they retreated, their piercing eyes fixed upon the
fiery symbol they dared not face. They backed and backed, till they were
but a mass of darkness, out of which their eyes glowed like a circle of
Easter tapers held by pious hands in adoration before that cross of
flame. Alone in the middle of that moonlit glade knelt Eric, quite
still, as in a trance; the point of his sword had reddened the snow on
the ground; the hilt seemed fashioned out of the stars of heaven.
The moon looked down upon his golden locks, transforming them into a
mass of silver; even his torn and travel-stained clothes were turned
into glowing metal like a knight of olden days.
From the shadow of the giant trees the little girl came slowly forward,
and on reaching the spot where Eric prayed with lowered brow, she, too,
fell on her knees and advancing her innocent lips kissed the blade of
the sword.
XVII
Now also the forest had been left behind. Upon the snowy covering of the
silent glade many a gaunt body lay still and cold, nor will we ask in
what manner their hungry companions visited them when the flashing cross
was to be seen no more.
Eric was now fighting his way to reach the highest peak that shone far
above the clouds. Never would he be able to relate how he had found his
way out of that forest where at first all had seemed united against him
to hinder his progress.
The morning after that night of battle which had so gloriously ended,
Eric had walked as in a dream, the cross-shaped hilt held against his
breast like some crusader in a distant land. Alongside of him trotted
the little girl clinging to a corner of his cloak. He knew not why, but
everything around him had lost the hostility of the night before; his
feet moved easily over the frozen snow without sinking beneath the
surface.
The giant trees were a wonder of brilliant white; during the early hours
of morn a vapoury mist had fallen over the sleeping immensity, and the
coming day had transformed all around into a fairy wood of dazzling
gems.
Each separate branch stood out in crystallized splendour, each needle,
each hanging cone had become a transparent jewel, radiating all the
colours of the rainbow.
The tiniest plant that had pushed its way through the snow, the driest,
humblest twig, the most common stone, all had been conjured into a
miraculous treasure of light which the most cunning human art could
never have fashioned. It was a joy beyond words to the eye, a splendour
God's nature alone could produce.
All was now peace and stillness; through the mighty rows of glittering
tree-tops the sun shot slanting rays that lit up the snow like a field
of golden flowers; and beyond, distant glimpses of the sky were visible,
pink like roses of the East gathered together by some enamoured king to
be strewn under the feet of his beloved.
The sombre pines had other faces beneath their fairy coating of frost,
and seemed now to greet him like some honoured guest, bending their
crowns in sign of homage.
On he walked without any feeling of fatigue, never once stumbling on his
way.
The falcon was again flying before him like a white kerchief waved in
token of greeting; ... the higher they climbed the rarer became the
trees and the wider did the blushing sky spread before their eyes.
Now they were out in the open once more, climbing from rock to rock; and
when Eric turned round to look down upon the forest that lay far
beneath, like a magician's garden of gigantic frosted flowers, he
perceived that the ghostly army of lost souls was once more following
close in his rear. Where had they been during that night of terror? Had
they lain in waiting till he had fought himself through that dangerous
trial? Had they trembled and feared that he was to be overthrown and
their forlorn hope destroyed?
There was a great and frowning height still before him which he had to
scale; but on this early morn so charged with brightness, his heart was
full of faith, and again there was a song on his lips; but now it was
one that had a deeper meaning. So with a shout of anticipation he lifted
his hand and waved it to the silent followers; then, pointing to the
rocky peak that appeared above the snow and clouds like a sunlit dream,
he rushed forward with unfaltering step, as if he had only just started
upon his ascent. The little girl was always near him; she, too, was full
of the joy of the morning....
But night came on, and still they were toiling. The shining peak had
veiled itself with a cloud of darkness; the bitter cold of the mountain
tops was laming their steps, so fresh and buoyant at the break of day.
Now the man had to bend down and lift the weary little soul once more in
his arms.
Their friendship had turned into tender love, and as he held her in his
safe embrace she covered his tired face with kisses sweet and soft like
the touch of a butterfly's wing. One more awful night they spent lying
fast locked in each other's arms, vainly trying to shut out the biting
frost, as only protection Eric's thin black cloak.
They had mercifully discovered a cavity in one of the rocks, and there
on a bed of grey moss they had slumbered fitfully, almost too exhausted
to find any deep repose. And when morning came it looked down upon two
haggard mortals sitting side by side, crushed one against the other, in
dire distress. Their faces were pinched and livid; their teeth chattered
with cold; their eyes, surrounded by deep circles of fatigue, searched
about them in questioning misery. Within their numbed fingers they held
an empty box!... But Eric's spirit was still undaunted. He meant to win!
That night his dream had risen again before his eyes, more vivid and
fascinating than ever.
Lately his advance had been so tedious, the efforts needed to overcome
the difficulties so great, that all his faculties had been concentrated
upon the single desire to save his own life and that of the child; so
that the vision of the outset had been losing some of its power.
He staggered to his feet; the child hung a dead weight round his neck,
she was quite unable to make further effort. What should he do? He could
not leave her to perish here, this dear companion of the mountain tops!
Yet thus encumbered, how could he reach the final height? His strength
was spent, his feet were bleeding, his clothes were torn, the wounds of
the night before were a throbbing agony beneath the clinging arms of the
little girl.
He felt that they were breaking open anew, that his warm blood was
slowly trickling down on to the snow, and with each drop that fell his
life seemed to be oozing slowly away. And there far above, like the
tantalizing vision out of an ethereal world, rose the peak of his
desire.
Again the rays of the sun reddened its crown like a glowing flower. Was
it mocking him in his mortal distress? Was it luring him on to life or
to death? But he must mount, always farther; he could not give up now
within sight of his goal! Courage! Courage! He must conquer and win! But
what were those white arms beckoning to him out of the morning mist?
What were those veils of transparent vapour waving to him from the rock
above? Were they apparitions out of some fantastic dream, some
hallucination of his tired brain?
Anyhow he would desperately follow them, perhaps they would help him in
his distress; but the higher he climbed the farther did the beckoning
figures always recede; each time he had thought to reach the height
where they stood he saw them far away hovering above him on some steep
boulder, which again he scaled only to be baffled anew.
It was an awful pursuit, the heavy child clinging around his neck, his
open wounds dripping, leaving red traces wherever he passed.
His shoes had been cut almost to shreds by the rugged rocks, so that his
feet suffered an agony of pain.
A blind rage seized him against these spirits of the wilds who mocked
his cruel plight; and yet, had he but known it, it was just their
alluring aloofness that was helping him upon his final climb. His
overwhelming longing to reach those ethereal beings with whom he hoped
to find rest gave him the energy to clamber always farther, the
intensity of his desire infusing almost superhuman force into his
attenuated body.
Suddenly he stopped with a gasp, almost letting the child fall from his
arms;--other visions were now before him floating amongst the clouds.
The indistinct apparitions had taken form, changing into white-winged
angels all flying upwards, their long trailing garments mingling with
the mist.
Ah! these would lead him to his last height! These celestial beings had
been sent from heaven to help him in his bitterest need.
Looking down at the child in his arms, he saw that her face was deadly
pale, her eyes were shut, the long lashes cast deep shadows on her
sunken cheeks.
Indeed it was time to reach some shelter where he could lay her down.
Then raising his head a cry escaped his lips ... there close before him
he espied the great peak which had always appeared so absolutely beyond
his reach.
There it stood, enormous and majestic, an overpowering revelation rising
out of the filmy clouds--clouds that were one mass of white-robed
angels, their wings bearing them upwards, their arms extended in
gestures of welcome towards this pilgrim of the heights!
Eric ran forward, all his remaining energy gathered together in one last
supreme effort. The blood sang in his ears, his breath came in tormented
gasps, his heart beat like a giant hammer, and wherever he passed the
hard stones bore marks of his dripping wounds.
With one arm he pressed his heavy burden against him, with the other he
hoisted himself higher and higher, clambering with dogged persistence,
ignoring both pain and danger, always onwards, his enraptured eyes fixed
in an ecstasy of hope on the heavenly host that was showing him the
way ... and now ... and now ... he was lying face downwards on the hard
snow-covered rock, his arms outstretched over the motionless body of the
little girl.
He had reached the top, he had not failed!... he had really won!
Long he lay in completest exhaustion unable to move, almost unable to
think, or even to feel. Around him the mists rose and fell like a
restless foam-covered sea!
Slowly he lifted his head, and what first met his gaze was the face of
the child.