CHAPTER I

THE PALADINS

OF

EDWIN THE GREAT

[Illustration: Porlor and his Companions Kidnapped by Sea-thieves]

THE PALADINS

OF

EDWIN THE GREAT

BY

SIR CLEMENTS R. MARKHAM, K.C.B.

NEW EDITION

LONDON

ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK

1908

_First published September 1896._

_Reprinted August 1901. New Edition September 1908._

CONTENTS

PAGE

PREFACE 1

PART I.--HOME

CHAP.

1. STILLINGFLEET 13

2. ALCA 22

3. ALDBY 40

4. YORK AND THE DEIRAN FRONTIER 54

5. KIDNAPPED 66

6. MYSTACON 77

PART II.--EXILE

1. FALLEN ROME 95

2. IN BONDAGE AT ROME 108

3. THE GLORIES OF THE EAST 126

4. A SON OF ALARIC 141

5. UJJAYANI 157

6. IRAN 181

7. THE RESCUE OF SIVEL 194

PART III.--WORK

1. THE STORY OF AUGUSTINE 213

2. HOME AGAIN 230

3. DEATH OF ALCA 248

4. EDWIN 270

5. BAPTISM 296

6. THE GREAT BRETWALDA 315

7. THE END 331

EPILOGUE 344

ILLUSTRATIONS

BY RALPH PEACOCK

PORLOR AND HIS COMPANIONS KIDNAPPED

BY SEA-THIEVES _Frontispiece_

DANCING ROUND THE SACRED ASH _To face page_ 14

PRINCESS ALCA TELLING STORIES TO THE

BOYS " " 46

MYSTACON ATTACKED BY HIS BOY CAPTIVES " " 104

COELRED AND PORLOR IN EGYPT " " 144

COELRED AND PORLOR ON THEIR WAY TO

THE WELLS " " 158

DEATH OF MYSTACON " " 206

THE YOUNG WARRIORS PRESENTED TO

ETHELFRITH " " 244

LILLA SAVES THE KING'S LIFE " " 304

KING EDWIN, COELRED, AND PORLOR SLAIN " " 338

PREFACE

Very little is known for certain of one of the most important events

in the history of the world, the coming of the Englishmen to England.

It took a long time, fully a century, from 450 A.D. to 550 A.D., and

they came constantly, in small detachments for the most part, landing

on the coast, in all directions, from the Forth to the Isle of Wight.

They came amidst the ruins of the mighty Roman Empire, a new race of

empire-founders, with all the germs of a still mightier future.

The new-comers from the older Angeln or England, now called Sleswig,

came in the greatest numbers. We know not why, but it certainly was a

wholesale movement. They kept launching their small fleets of dragon

ships, and crossing the North Sea with their gods, their door-posts,

and their beautiful golden-haired wives and children, until none were

left. They brought with them all the deep religious feeling, all the

imaginative mythology, all the heroic tales of the old land. They

first disembarked on the coast between the Forth and the Tees, driving

back the natives into Strathclyde, after a struggle which lasted for

many years. Among them came Ida the son of Eoppa, with twelve sons, in

forty dragon ships full of English warriors. He founded the castle of

Bambrough on the coast, which was at first surrounded with a hedge and

afterwards with a wall; and in 547 A.D. he became king of the country

of Bernicia, between the Forth and the Tees. Ida was surnamed the

"Flame-bearer." He reigned for twelve years in Bernicia, when Ethelric

his son succeeded him.

Many more warriors landed on the coast between the Tees and the Humber;

and in 559 A.D. their Eolderman, named Ella, the son of Iffi, the son

of Wuscfrea, and twelfth in descent from Woden, became king of the more

southern Northumbrian kingdom of Deira.

When they were settled in their kingdom of Deira, with Ella as their

king, and Elfric his brother as their leader in war, the sea-rovers

became farmers, ready to defend their possessions and to fight for

the acquisition of more territory for their countrymen. They were the

ceorls or freemen assembling in communities of families, within a

boundary or mark, and known by a common name with the addition of the

patronymic _ing_. The ceorl owned a hide of land, bore arms, had a

vote, and took part in the _thing_, or general assembly of his mark.

The union of marks formed a wapentake (Vopnatak), from the custom of

touching the chief's spear in token of fealty. The union of Wapentakes

formed the Scire or Shire with its Shire-mót. The Ceorl was the

freeman, while the Eorl was the nobleman or chief in peace and war, and

the Eolderman was a prince of the family of the Cyning (from _cyne_,

generous) or king, who wore the _cynehelm_ or circlet of gold.

The Englishmen came with their immemorial gods, and their grand old

traditions. Woden was their All-father and Creator, Thor the mighty

enemy of giants and trolls, Tyr the god of war. They invoked Balder the

bright and fair of aspect; Freyr, who presided over rain and sunshine;

Niord, who ruled the winds; Ægir, god of the ocean; and many more. "Our

forefathers derived comfort in affliction, support in difficulty, from

the belief that the gods watched over them. They bent in gratitude

for the blessings they conferred, and were guided and directed in the

daily business of life by the conviction of their responsibility to

higher powers than any which they recognised in the world around them."

A religious feeling was the basis of their respect for law--of their

loyalty, of their free institutions, and of those customs and habits

of thought which were the foundation-stones of the edifice of English

liberty. These old warriors brought with them to their new homes all

those germs which were fertilised by their virtues, and watered with

the life-blood of their valour, until, in the course of centuries,

they grew up to form the greatest nation this earth has ever seen, a

fruitful and beneficent tree, spreading its branches far and wide round

the world.

It was, in all probability, not Ella and Elfric, nor their

war-comrades Seomel and Brand, Vidfinn and Guthlaf, who first crossed

the sea from Angeln; for it must have taken two or three generations

to establish the English firmly in Northumbria, and their grandfathers

were the original invaders. They found the country desolate, and for

the most part waste. The Roman roads traversed the moors and forests,

and formed causeways over the swamps, but the stations were abandoned

and ruinous. There was scarcely any cultivation. Vast tracts were

covered with forests, the haunts of wild cattle and red-deer, of boars

and badgers, of wolves and wild-cats. It was in truth the "_Deira_" or

land of wild animals. The ponds and marshes were frequented by myriads

of wild-fowl, and few had ever penetrated into the hidden recesses of

the wildernesses. By very slow degrees, amidst wars and disturbance,

the English began to change the whole face of the country. The first

beginnings were in the days of Ella and Elfric, when defensible

homesteads were built, land was apportioned, and laws began to be

obeyed.

On the death of Ella in 588 his son Edwin fled before Ethelric King

of Bernicia, who conquered Deira, but, after the death of Ethelric,

Edwin took heart and not only reconquered his own kingdom of Deira but

Bernicia also, and united them both in one great kingdom of Northumbria.

The history of the early struggles into existence of any of the peoples

who, in later centuries, have formed the nations of modern Europe

is unfortunately so obscure that it can only furnish us with a mere

general outline of the course of events.

Occasionally, however, the record of a short period is found, like

an oasis in a desert, which is full of most interesting details. The

welcome narrative abruptly begins, and as suddenly ends, pleasing the

reader with anecdotes, speeches, estimates of character, and other

precious materials for history. There is a very remarkable example

of this in Bede's invaluable work. Nothing can be more tantalising

than the extremely meagre character of the accounts that have been

preserved of the leaders of the people, the makers of England, as Mr.

Green called them, during the Heptarchy, the all-important period

when England was made. But there is one striking exception. When the

venerable monk of Jarrow reaches the period of Edwin of Northumbria

his narrative somehow has fresh life and vigour breathed into it, and

the following half-century receives the same welcome treatment. We see

real progress being made in the civilisation of the country and the

condition of the people, which, though checked, was not put a stop to

even by the desolating invasions of Penda and Cadwalla.

One eagerly looks for the causes both of the increased life in Bede's

narrative and of this remarkable period of sudden progress. The full

details furnished for Edwin's history are so exceptional that the

circumstance was discussed by Dr. Giles, the editor of Bohn's edition

of Bede. He considers it to be clear that Bede must have had access to

highly valuable materials, for his details are too minute in themselves

and too accurately defined to have been derived by him from tradition

only.

The phenomena of the history of Edwin's reign are, however, far more

interesting than any question relating to Bede's materials. We find a

man who had passed his life in exile, and under every disadvantage,

suddenly developing into a most efficient ruler and giving vigour and

direction to every branch of his administration. But this is not all.

He is found assuming ensigns of sovereignty, adopting measures and

undertaking expeditions of a character not at all in accordance with

what could possibly be expected from a sovereign of any state in the

English Heptarchy of that period.

There is one natural way of accounting for the various problems

connected with Edwin's life-story, and especially with his reign. The

presence of a bigoted and very timid Roman monk, like Paulinus, in

attendance on his Queen, will in no way explain them. Edwin caused

a chronicle of his labours to be written; he assumed ensigns only

known at the court of the Emperor; he provided for the convenience of

travellers in a way only practised in the East; he equipped a fleet

for the subjugation of distant islands; he established order in a way

so effectual that no organisation known in the England of the seventh

century could have enforced it.

Edwin was a man of great ability, it must be conceded, but this will

not account for the introduction of measures so at variance with the

ideas and habits of the governments of the Heptarchy at that time. One

explanation covers all the ground. It is quite possible that, owing to

a very extraordinary combination of circumstances, certain countrymen

of Edwin may have had rare opportunities of visiting the distant

regions of the then known world, of studying many things in many

climes, and that, after years of absence, they may have returned home.

Surrounded by such men as his friends and ministers, the history of

his reign is made perfectly clear. A hint here and there even enables

us to guess who some of these great men were. History, in that age,

usually gives us a mere skeleton. Bede, fortunately, in the case of the

illustrious Northumbrian Bretwalda and his people, gives us much more,

but not nearly enough. Following the venerable historian closely and

exactly, it is not an unworthy aspiration to fill up the blanks, and

to present these workers in the making of England as living and moving

beings. Even we, at this distance of time, may owe them something. All

the seeds that they scattered so perseveringly and so earnestly, and

with such loving care for their country and its welfare, cannot have

fallen among thorns or on rocky ground. It is such considerations which

have given rise to this attempt to tell the strange and romantic story

of the Paladins of King Edwin the Great.

C. R. M.

PART I

HOME

CHAPTER I

STILLINGFLEET

The sacred ash tree spread its wide leafy branches over the court of

the Stillingas. On one side of this court was the long hall, built of

timber, with quaintly-carved joists and gables, on two others were the

barns and cattle-sheds, the whole being surrounded by a stiff quickset

hedge concealing the view of the open country. This ash was not only

sacred from its size and antiquity, and as an emblem of the ash tree of

_Yggdrasil_, but it also had an elf hole through which children could

be passed, a peculiarity possessed by no other ash for miles around.

Six children were dancing joyously round the tree one bright summer

afternoon 1300 years ago, and making the whole place resound with merry

laughter. The eldest was twelve years of age, a sturdy, straight-limbed

boy named Coelred, the eldest son of Seomel, the warrior chief of the

Stillingas. He had blue eyes and a sunburnt little face, with masses

of brown hair falling over his shoulders. His brother Porlor, two

years his junior, was a bright child with a dreamy, thoughtful look

in his eyes when at rest, and a strong little frame fit for sustained

work even at that early age. Their companion, Hereric, numbering the

same years as Porlor, was an inch taller, and his hair was golden and

glistened as the sun's rays rested on it. He was a young prince, son

of the warrior Elfric, the brother of Ella the king of Deira. His

little brother Osric was only three years of age. The four boys had

two girls for playfellows--Bergliot, the golden-haired princess, aged

six years, and Braga, or Bragaswith, the little sister of Coelred and

Porlor. Ella, the king, lived at Aldby with his queen and his daughter,

the princess Alca, aged sixteen, and the new-born prince Edwin, the

hope of Deira. Elfric was established at the Aldwark, the remains of

the imperial palace within the walls of Eburacum, or Eoforwic (York),

as the English then called it. But he was a widower, and his children

were generally at Stillingfleet, under the care of the gentle wife of

Seomel, the British lady Volisia. Elfric himself was also a frequent

visitor, to consult with Seomel, his friend and companion in arms, over

the affairs of the frontier.

[Illustration: Dancing Around the Sacred Ash]

On that bright summer afternoon the Lady Volisia sat on a bench by the

carved door-post of the hall, her baby-girl Nanna asleep by her side.

She was tall and slim, with a slightly aquiline nose and soft brown

eyes. She watched the happy group round the ash tree, a gentle smile

lighting up her face as she bent again over her work. It consisted of

a bright-coloured scarf to which she was attaching tassels. Presently

the children left off dancing and began passing each other through the

elf hole. It was said to bring luck, but it was too rough a game for

the little ones, so the lady called the children to come round her, and

told them that they should play the chance game for the scarf. This was

one of the most ancient of all Teutonic games. Every child held the

edge of the scarf with both hands. One was chosen to say a well-known

spell, touching a hand at each word, and the hand on which the last

word fell was dropped out. The spell was then repeated as often as

necessary, and the owner of the last hand left won the game. Twelve

small hands held the scarf, and the Princess Bergliot said the spell.

Thus it ran:

_Hurli Burli_ _Scipa Hwede_

_Blypan Trothorn_ _Gang Feran_

_Eastor Gasta_ _Ut_.

The final "_ut_" came to Hereric the Atheling, but he presented the

scarf, with all the ardour of a lover of ten years old, to his little

playmate Braga. At the moment that the happy and smiling child received

it, a horn was heard in the distance, and all ran at full speed to the

gateway left in the line of the defensive hedge. Coelred, the eldest,

was allowed to rush on, but the rest were called back by Volisia to

await the arrivals within the courtyard.

The view outside the surrounding hedge showed that the home of Seomel,

the chief of the Stillingas, stood on the edge of a ridge running

east and west, with a stream flowing through the valley below. The

homesteads of the Stillingas, each with some tillage and pasturage

round it, were built at intervals on either side of the stream, just

clear of the highest flood. But beyond the narrow valley the whole

landscape consisted of one dense forest. The ridge was chiefly wooded

with ash trees, whence the name of Escrick (or Ashridge) for its more

eastern part, and a short steep hill led down from the gateway of the

Stillingfleet to the margin of the brook.

Coelred ran down the hill, and his bare legs and feet carried him

through the water and up the opposite side, just as the cavalcade

emerged from the forest. It consisted of Elfric the Atheling; Seomel,

the chief of the Stillingas; Guthlaf, the chief of the Hemingas; the

Princess Alca, a young girl numbering sixteen summers, with her women;

the gleeman Coifi; and a following of warriors returning from a short

campaign against their northern neighbours of Bernicia. It is not

certain whether the ladies rode as is now the fashion. Some people

maintain that the Lady Wake, grandmother of the Fair Maid of Kent, was

the first Englishwoman who used a side-saddle, 800 years afterwards.

Others consider that the question is unsettled. At all events, while

Guthlaf took his leave and rode on to his more distant home with his

followers, and the Stillinga folk made for their homesteads in the

valley, the rest cantered up the hill and dismounted in the courtyard,

where they were warmly greeted by Volisia and the children. Coelred ran

like a young deer by his father's horse, and it was his proud privilege

to assist the Lady Alca to dismount.

Elfric and Seomel were men of gigantic proportions, tall, sinewy,

and well knit, with blonde beards and fair hair flowing over their

shoulders, and of the same height. They wore over their linen tunics

leathern shirts with iron scales or rings sewn upon them in rows, over

which were metal collars. Their hose were blue, cross-gartered from

ankle to knee with strips of leather, and their shoes had an opening

down the instep tied close with thongs. On their left sides hung long

single-edged iron swords, with hilts wrought of silver and bronze and

scored with mystic runes, in wooden scabbards tipped and edged with

bronze. Short daggers, called _seax_, were suspended from their girdles

on the right side. The small round war-boards or shields, with an iron

boss, were slung over their backs, and in their hands were the long

ashen spears. Their helmets were of leather bound with iron and crested

with iron-wrought figures of wild boars with eyes of brass. Over their

armoured shirts they wore embroidered cloaks of blue cloth, fastened on

their shoulders with a golden and jewelled buckle. Coifi, the gleeman,

was in less warlike guise. He wore a garment with tight sleeves and

embroidered breast, not unlike a smock-frock, with a hood attached, his

feet and legs being cross-gartered, while a small harp was suspended

round his neck and hung at his left side.

The return from a warlike expedition was usually the occasion for a

feast in the hall of the chief. It was so in this instance. As the sun

went down Alca and the children retired to rest in the inner rooms,

while the servants prepared the meal. In the centre of the long hall

was the hearth-fire, with a hole in the roof for smoke; but now it was

covered with green boughs, and on either side of it the boards were

fixed on trestles. The freemen, or _ceorls_, of the Stillingas and

of the Atheling almost filled the great room, seated in rows on the

benches or settles, while the Prince and Seomel, with his wife, took

their places at the head of the upper board. Our English ancestors were

very clean, the use of baths was general, and before the Stillingas sat

down to meat water was brought them for hands and feet. The fare was

good and plentiful, meat being handed round on spits, while the horns

were filled with ale, and the warriors talked in groups over the events

of the campaign. But it was not until the Lady Volisia had herself

handed round the brimming mead-cups to her guests and had retired,

that the harp and song were called for. Then all eyes turned to the

famous gleeman who had arrived in the Atheling's train from York. No

man in the kingdom came near him for depth of knowledge of the ancient

religion or of the folk-lore of the English. He stood by the chiefs at

the upper end of the hall and tuned the harp as the mead-cup circulated.

Coifi sang that thrilling legend which never failed to arouse the

enthusiasm of his countrymen, and which was peculiarly appropriate

after an expedition which had for its object the rescue of a Deiran

town from a Bernician invasion. He told how the hero Beowulf came to

Heorot with a chosen band, to rescue the subjects of King Hrothgar

from the cruelties of their fiendish enemy Grendel; how Beowulf,

single-handed, tore the monster's arm from his shoulder; how he then

overcame Grendel's mother at the bottom of the sea with the aid of the

sword Hrunting; and how he returned home victorious after this dread

encounter. The touches of nature in the descriptions of scenery, the

exciting speeches and challenges, the warlike sentiments, went right

home to the hearts of his hearers, and loud and long was the applause

at the conclusion of each fytte or canto, when the mead-cup passed

round, and Coifi paused for breath.

And here the singer for his art

Not all in vain may plead:

The song that nerves a nation's heart

Is in itself a deed.

At length the long but inspiriting song was ended. Seomel and the

Atheling retired, the Stillingas went to their homes, while straw was

shaken down along the hall, behind the mead-benches, as beds for the

strangers. An eventful day thus ended, and all was silence in the

courts of Seomel.

CHAPTER II

ALCA

Alca was the most beautiful girl that her countrymen had ever beheld;

and even then, at the early age of sixteen years, as she tripped out

into the crowded court, she appeared to the beholders to be a perfect

dream of loveliness, lithe and active, yet with the graceful dignity

of a long-descended princess. Her hair was golden, her eyes a deep

sapphire blue, with that calm depth of meaning which was then believed

to be one attribute of an elf-maiden. Alca, from a young child, had

been remarkable for the universality of her love, which was extended

to all the gods had made. Her wisdom and knowledge were far beyond her

years, and seemed to those around her to be miraculous. She saw the

true meanings of beliefs and customs. She alone was able to extract the

hidden truth from the mysteries of nature, and could understand those

longings and aspirations which her companions could only dimly shadow

forth by their creeds and their superstitions. All loved the Princess,

but they looked upon her as one nearer to gods than to men; and only

children dared to love her without awe, and as a being higher and

wiser, but still one of themselves. For the rest of the world Alca was

an elf-maiden endowed with special gifts by the gods.

The Princess had accompanied her uncle to Stillingfleet to see her

cousins and other young friends, and to visit the Lady Volisia, to whom

she was warmly attached. On that summer morning she was to go with her

friend to the shrine of a goddess of her people on the other side of

the Ouse, attended by the children and by several servants. When they

reached the bank it was high tide. A large flat-bottomed boat was run

into the water, and the party was pulled across by the boys to an old

Roman fort on the opposite side, called Acaster. It consisted of two

towers, like those on the column of Trajan, surrounded by a ditch. It

was on the verge of a dense forest, in which some clearings had been

made. The whole tract forming the angle between the Ouse and Wharfe was

forest-clad, except where clearings had been made for planting apple

and other fruit trees, and where the _ings_ or swampy meadows formed a

fringe between the forest and the river banks. The pilgrims made their

way through the thickets by a very narrow path without stopping, for

the promised visit to the orchards was to be on their return, after

their devotions had been duly paid to the goddess.

Nehalennia, to whose worship the wife of Seomel had remained faithful,

was a Celtic goddess, who presided over fertility, and especially

over fruit trees, and who was also the goddess of chalk pits and the

patroness of chalk workers. The temple or _haruc_ (_Hörgr_), as the

English called it, was unbuilt by human hands. The deity dwelt in a

shady spot, embowered and shut in by self-grown trees, veiling her form

in the rustling foliage of the overhanging boughs. Here, just within

the forest, but bordering on the bright expanse of _ings_, stood a

large slab of limestone, on which was carved in relief an image of

Nehalennia, with long flowing hair, and baskets full of apples by her

side. Masses of elecampane (_Inula Helenium_) and of other medicinal

plants grew round the base of the carved stone, and a solemn silence

reigned around. A few rays of the mid-day sun found their way through

the overhanging branches, and lighted up the bas-relief, carved by some

well-trained Roman hand. The Lady Volisia, the Princess Alca, and the

children made their offerings to the shrine, and continued kneeling in

devotion for some time. It was the very spot on which the Cistercian

nunnery of Appleton was erected 600 years afterwards.

The party made their way through the dense forest from the shrine of

Nehalennia to the orchards of Appleton, which supplied Stillingfleet

and all the homesteads round York. Here they rested under the apple

trees, eating the rosy fruit, while Alca talked to the children. Porlor

had asked her why Nehalennia was not also a goddess of the English,

and she answered in the way which would make the essence of such

mysteries most clear to her companions. "The names only are different,"

she said, "the deity is the same. Your mother and her people pray for

fertility to Nehalennia, and you and Coelred and your sisters should

do likewise, because invocation of the same name is one more tie of

love between mother and children. Your father's people invoke Freyr to

send them rain and sunshine, and to give them the fruits of the earth

in due season. But it is the same thing. Both are names to denote the

beneficent goodness of the 'All-father,' he whom the English call

Woden. Remember that whatever god we invoke, we are always praying,

through one of his attributes, to the 'All-father.'

"Woden has many names," she exclaimed in a voice which awed her

companions, and with a rapt look, as if gazing through space and seeing

what was not visible to them. "He is the God and Father of victory, the

Giver of gifts, the Almighty and All-knowing, but always the Father

and Creator of gods and men. Sitting on his throne _hlidskialf_ he can

survey the whole world, and can hear all that goes on among men. His

spear _gûnguir_ is in his hand; his ravens, _Huginn_ and _Muninn_, are

on his shoulders; his wolves, _Geri_ and _Freki_, are at his feet; his

horse _Sleipnir_ by his side. He too is the Father of the slain, and

the Rewarder of the brave and good when this life is ended." After a

pause her eyes lost that far-away look, and were full of love as she

turned to the children, and promised to tell them the meaning of all

these things as soon as they were old enough to understand. Coelred,

who had been eagerly listening to all the Princess had said, now

anxiously inquired about the slain, and about the fatherhood of Woden

in regard to them. "In three years," he said, "I shall be girded with

a sword, and shall take my place in battle by the side of my father

Seomel. How soon after that will Woden choose me to be one of the

slain: are the bravest taken first, or the youngest, or those who are

of least service? Can the Princess tell me?" Alca replied, as they

wended their way home--"Of that hour it is given to none to tell.

Woden sends his wish-maidens, called Valkyrie, who fly through the

air to choose the heroes that are to fall. Often the best and bravest

are taken, sometimes the very young, sometimes a warrior waits long

and fights in many battles before his turn comes. No good warrior

fears the Valkyrie. They are to be loved, not feared. They hover over

the conflicting armies, mingle in the ranks, take the slain in their

embraces, and ride with them on their heavenly horses to Valhalla,

where they attend at the feasts, and hand the drinking-horn to gods and

heroes. But touching the hour of death nothing can be known, because

the selection is made on the spot by the Valkyrie. The time we cannot

know." Then she turned with a sweet smile, and, looking from one to the

other, she said to the two boys, "Yet this I do know, for it is given

to me to know. When the fulness of time arrives, Coelred and Porlor

will fall in battle, fighting bravely in a righteous cause."

The boys were deeply impressed. Their hearts were too full for words,

and there was silence until they reached the old Roman tower at Acaster

and had crossed the river. It was broken by Porlor, who asked if the

Valkyrie could be seen. "No," replied Alca, "they are unseen in battle;

for, like Woden and the Valhalla, they are a mystery, which it is given

to few to understand." "But," persisted Porlor, "cannot they put on

the _alptahamir_ (swan shifts), and take the form of birds of augury?

Our friend Oswith, the son of Guthlaf, told us that he saw three swans

alight on Derwent bank, put their white swan shifts in the grass, and

turn into beautiful maidens. They bathed in the river, resumed their

shifts, and flew away again as swans; and Oswith never lies. Were they

Valkyrie?" Alca answered that "it was given to some to behold these

mysteries, and to understand the truth that lies concealed in them,

but to others it was not given." They were now approaching the gate

of Stillingfleet as the sun set, the faithful dog Shuprak bounded out

to meet them, and the conversation turned to trivial subjects as they

entered the court.

Some days afterwards the three boys, Hereric, Coelred, and Porlor,

with their dog Shuprak, set out for the burg of the Hemingas, to join

their friend Oswith, the son of Guthlaf, on a hunting expedition. They

wore cross-gartered hose, and belts with metal buckles, from which long

hunting-knives were suspended; bows and arrows were slung on their

backs, and the little fellows also carried short iron-headed spears.

For several miles they made their way through the dense forest, until

they emerged on Skipwith Common, where the ruins of an abandoned town

of the Parisi, consisting of circular huts, still showed many traces.

It was a weird and desolate place even in bright sunshine, and Porlor

whispered to his companions tales of grey old wood-folk clothed in

moss, of dwarfs and giants, and of the lubber fiend, as they hurried

across the moor, and again plunged into the forest. They went swiftly

over the ground, and soon reached the clearings and the fortified

burg of the Hemingas, at the junction of the rivers Ouse and Derwent.

Here there was a ruined fort built by the Romans, which had been

repaired with timber, and was the home of Guthlaf, the chief of the

Hemingas. His son Oswith was the same age as Coelred, straight as a

dart, broad-chested and lean-flanked--a splendid specimen of a young

Englishman. He was a fast friend of the sons of Seomel, and, after

warm words of welcome, their first act was to challenge each other to

fight. A wrestling-match at once commenced on the green, and the lithe

and sinewy figures of Coelred and Oswith were soon entwined, as they

strove, with every muscle at extreme tension, to throw each other to

the ground. Each boy won a bout, which made them quite happy, and the

four lads, after a merry meal, set out on their search for forest game,

working northwards again towards the home of Seomel.

"Nature was an open book to these lads of the far-distant past. They

lived in nearer communion than we can do with the world around them.

Their frames, not yet clogged and vitiated by the habits of an advanced

civilisation, were more alive than ours to the external effects of

natural causes. The birds spoke to them, the forest whispered to them,

the wind wantoned with their curly locks, they stood before the great

spirit of nature face to face, and knew him as he revealed himself in

every one of his divine forms." Loaded with as much game as they could

carry, after a very successful and very happy day, they were walking in

single file through the tangled underwood, when Oswith, their leader,

saw the eyes of a huge wild-cat glaring at him through the dense

foliage. It sprang up a tree, and in an instant he had thrown down his

burden and was after it, with his long knife in his mouth. When, at

a considerable height, he was swinging himself forward to attack his

antagonist, which was at bay, the bough broke and he fell heavily to

the ground. His comrades found him suffering intense pain, unable to

stand, and with a very badly sprained ankle. Abandoning the spoils of

the chase, Coelred and Porlor began to carry him, but they were still

several miles from Stillingfleet. Hereric ran forward for help, and

when it came the sturdy little fellows had already carried their friend

upwards of three miles. Oswith was soon lying on a heap of fresh straw

in Seomel's hall. His hose and shoes were removed, and it was found

that the ankle was much swollen, so that there was every prospect of

days and even weeks elapsing before he would be able to walk.

As soon as Coelred had seen that everything that was possible had

been done for his friend, he sought his mother's bower, and throwing

himself at the feet of Alca, he besought her to show favour to the son

of Guthlaf. "Indeed," replied the Princess, "I will do what I can for

my young friend Oswith." She went into the hall, patted the boy's head,

and spoke cheering words to him, with her eyes fixed on his until she

thought her spell would work. Then she removed the bandage, placed her

hand very gently on the swelling, and uttered it, as follows:--

_Ben zi Bena,

Bluot zi Bluode,

Lid zi Geliden,

Sôse gelimida sin.

Thu biguolen Wodin,

So he wola coude,

Sôse ben-renki,

Sôse bluot-renki,

Sôse lidere-renki._

Volisia stood by her side, ready to administer a sleeping-draught,

and next morning Oswith was quite healed, and able to walk and run as

well as ever. As soon as she saw that the spell was working, Alca went

out to the ash tree in the courtyard and prayed to the Æsir on her

knees, several groups of people watching her with awe. When she rose

and looked round, Coifi came forward with a low obeisance. The gleeman

was an adept in the Teutonic religious beliefs, and was versed in all

the tales and traditions of the mythology of his people. But he looked

upon them solely from a practical point of view. He received every

supernatural story literally. To him Woden and Thor were the wooden

images preserved at Godmundham, and he sought for no further light.

Alca, even in extreme youth, was visionary in her religious views.

The All-father, as she understood him, was everywhere and pervaded

everything. The gods and goddesses were his attributes, or represented

his intentions and designs, as she had explained to the children on the

day of the pilgrimage to Nehalennia's shrine.

"The spell will not work, I fear, O daughter of the King," said Coifi,

who was then a man between thirty and forty, and known in every burg

and hall as the best gleeman in Deira. "The spell will work, Coifi,"

replied Alca in a gentle voice. After a pause the gleeman said almost

in a whisper, "I know the spell of Balder's horse that you used for

young Oswith. I think I know every spell, but they will not work for

me. I pray and sacrifice to the gods, but they help me not. Let them

give me power and I can believe them. I believe when I see." Alca

looked at him and said, "I am too young to teach so learned a man as

Coifi. But I can say why the spell will work. The boy loved me and

believed. I love the gods and have faith, so the spell will work."

Coifi replied, "But I cannot believe until I see the spell work. If

the spell works I believe." "That is the wrong way, Coifi," said the

Princess. "Believe and the spell works; for it works by faith. Wait

until the spell works before you can believe, and it will never work."

Puzzled and angry, Coifi declared that he would serve the gods and

pray to them for his lifetime, and they must answer him and give him

power; but that to believe before they showed him their mighty works

was impossible. Alca shook her head. She said no more, but she saw that

insight was not given to Coifi.

As she stood by the side of the gleeman, with Coelred and Porlor

watching her from the hall entrance, and with many people in the

courtyard, her aspect suddenly changed. She assumed a listening

attitude and then looked upwards. "The Valkyrie pass through the air,"

she cried. "I neither see nor hear," said Coifi; "it cannot be." All

gazed in amazement for several minutes. "A great battle is joined.

The heroes fall," was the next exclamation of the Princess. She stood

like one inspired. "Coelred! Coelred! run to my eame the Atheling and

to your father; tell them to arm and to assemble all their forces,

for the enemy approaches. Coifi, go thou to alarm the people. Bid

them to assemble armed and ready to march." Coelred was off like an

arrow from a bow. Coifi also obeyed. The alarm-horns were heard in

the valley. In half an hour the Stillingas were drawn up fully armed

outside the hedge. Elfric and Seomel, also fully armed, had entered the

enclosure and asked eagerly for the cause of the alarm. Alca was still

standing under the ash tree. All eyes were turned on her. The setting

sun threw a glow of light over her form. "I hear the rapid feet of

the messenger," she said, raising one arm. "You will hear him and act

quickly. He comes--make way for him." A lane was formed, and between

the two lines of warriors a little boy ran breathless into the court,

and sank exhausted on the ground. "It is Forthere, the son of Brand of

Ulfskelf," exclaimed Seomel. "Speak, boy! speak quickly--what are your

tidings."

The gallant little fellow had swum across the river. As soon as he

recovered breath he delivered his message. The settlement at Bilbrough

had been suddenly attacked and taken by an overwhelming force of

Britons from Elmet, led by their king Certicus. After a short fight the

slaughter began. Vidfinn, the chief of the Billingas, was slain, and

most of his people were massacred. Neither age nor sex was spared. A

young woman with little Sivel, the child of Vidfinn, brought the news

to Ulfskelf. But there was scarcely breathing-time before the enemy

appeared, their numbers vastly increased; Ulfskelf was surrounded, and

Brand resolved to defend it to the last gasp. A desperate fight took

place outside, but the overwhelming numbers of the enemy soon obliged

him to retreat behind his palisades. Forthere had escaped by creeping

along the margin of the Wharfe. He then swam across the Ouse, and so

brought the tidings to Stillingfleet.

Elfric and his leading men assembled under the ash tree and issued

orders. It was a bright moonlight night. A party had already been sent

off to prepare the boats for crossing the Ouse. Mounted messengers were

despatched to Cuthred, chief of the Poclingas beyond the Derwent, to

Sigfrid of the Elfingas, to Guthlaf of the Hemingas, to Ingeld of the

Heslingas, calling upon them to march with all despatch and meet Elfric

the Atheling at Acaster. The first object was to save Ulfskelf, if

Brand could hold out so long. Elfric was despatching another messenger

to the King, who was at Aldby, with a similar request. But Alca spoke

once more. She advised that King Ella should be asked to cross the

Ouse with his fighting men, above York, advance along the high land by

the hill of Severus and the ridge of Askham, and so take the enemy in

flank; while Elfric with his levies, raised between Ouse and Derwent,

opposed their further advance.

Stillingfleet was no longer safe. It was arranged that next morning

the Princess Alca and the Lady Volisia, escorted by Coifi and the boys,

with a few attendants, should take refuge at Aldby. Meanwhile Elfric

and Seomel, with the Stillingas and the Atheling's own followers,

crossed the Ouse and began to entrench themselves at Acaster in the

early hours of the night. When the reinforcements arrived next day,

they would boldly advance to the relief of Ulfskelf.

CHAPTER III

ALDBY

The escort of the Princess, of Volisia, and the children left

Stillingfleet next morning. In the van rode the older boys, Oswith,

Coelred, and Forthere, all three well armed, followed by the two

ladies, the children, and attendants, while Coifi, with the two younger

boys, Porlor and Hereric, brought up the rear. "The gleeman is to be

a priest of Woden," said Porlor to his friend, "to whom it is not

permitted to carry arms. The defence of the rear depends upon us, so we

must be on our guard." All the lads had arms suited to their size, but

none of them were yet old enough to wear swords.

After a mile's ride through the forest, they came to open moorland

where there was an outlying stockaded post of the Stillingas,

afterwards called Moreby; and here they met the Heslingas, led by the

veteran Ingeld, to whom the Princess gave fuller information than had

been brought by the messenger, and he pushed rapidly onwards with his

men, to join the Atheling. Riding on over moor and through forest,

the ladies and their escort, after some hours, reached the banks of

the bright river Derwent, where tall ash trees threw shadows over

its surface, which was skimmed by water-hens, while now and then the

brilliant plumage of the kingfisher glistened under the sun's rays

as it darted to its galleried nest in the bank. Soon the party came

in sight of Aldby, the royal seat of the kings of Deira, on a slight

eminence above the right bank of the river, the buildings appearing

amongst clumps of tall trees.

The Roman station of Derventio, on the Derwent, was twelve miles east

of York. When the English arrived, the buildings had been much injured

by invaders from the north, and by more than a century of neglect. They

were in a ruinous condition, but they were still standing; and they

received the name of Aldby, or the ancient town, from the new-comers.

The prætorium, repaired in many places with timber, still had a portico

composed of pillars with composite capitals, and formed the guest-hall

of the King of Deira. A villa, consisting of rooms built round three

sides of a square, with corridors, and a temple, were also included

in the Deiran palace. The walls of the guest-hall were adorned with

tapestry representing mythical beings from the Teutonic mythology, and

the floor retained its mosaic pavement. Although the boards or tables

were on movable trestles, there were fixed sideboards, with bowls of

bronze highly gilt and of very elegant forms, metal dishes, and horns,

while a raised dais with a throne at one end gave some appearance of

regal dignity to the spacious hall.

King Ella had marched away with a large force, but its place had been

taken by warriors from Driffield and from Godmundham, and Aldby still

had the busy appearance of a royal abode, with yards and halls crowded

with armed men, priests, and servants. The fugitives were cordially

received by Ella's queen, the stepmother of the Princess Alca, whose

name is not recorded in history. She had recently given birth to a son,

who had received the name of Edwin, a child of destiny, round whose

life-story the events of this narrative will eventually centre. The

children were all eager to pay their respects to the young Atheling,

the hope of the house of Deira, and Alca led them into the presence of

the infant prince.

There was much anxiety for several days, but at last the news came

that Elfric had relieved Ulfskelf and defeated the numerous but

ill-disciplined army of Britons. Their chief Certicus and his levies

commenced a retreat which the King converted into a rout when he

fell upon their right flank in the swampy ground between Askham and

Bilbrough. Ella and his brother then formed a junction round the hill,

now called Ingrish, and again fell furiously upon the disorganised

rabble. Certicus, with a small following, escaped into the forests of

Elmet, but there was tremendous slaughter, and the place is called

Helagh to this day. The English outposts were again extended to the

old Roman station of Calcaria, on the south side of the river Wharfe,

facing the ford of Nehalennia. The King also restored the burg of the

Billingas, and all due honours were paid to the remains of the chief

Vidfinn, who had been a daring Viking before he established himself at

Bilbrough with his children Hjuk and Bil. Nine votive boats of pure

gold were deposited in his grave, and a lofty tumulus was raised above

it, on the slope of the red sandstone hill which rises gradually from

the Roman road between York and Tadcaster. Little Sivel, the only

surviving child of Vidfinn, was adopted by Brand of Ulfskelf. A nephew

of Vidfinn, named Saebald, surnamed Fairfax from his silver-white

hair, was elected to command the Billingas and to defend the restored

settlement of Bilbrough.

These administrative arrangements occupied some time, during which the

lads at Aldby hunted in the forests between the Derwent and the foot

of the Wolds, sometimes pursuing their game far into the chalky hills,

and often ascending Garraby, which rises to a height of nearly 800 feet

above Aldby. Their evenings were passed in games with their sisters, or

in conversations with Alca, varied by listening to the wondrous tales

of Coifi or to the folk-lore of another race preserved in the memory of

their mother Volisia.

One day the five boys went with Coifi to Godmundham to visit the

temple which contains the sacred images brought from the old home

on the continent. A space was encircled by a quickset hedge, and

within there were three lofty elms, under which the idols were set

up. Hard by were the ruins of the Roman station of Delgovitia, some

of the buildings having been roughly repaired to serve as dwellings

for priests and servants. Coifi localised his beliefs. According to

his creed, Woden and Thor were within this enclosure at Godmundham,

or at all events he held that this was their favourite home, where

worshippers must seek their help, and where priests must observe all

the ceremonies connected with their cult. He told the boys the history

of the creation, and all the strange legends which had gathered round

it; and he narrated the myth of Balder's death and of Freyr's love for

Gerdr. He attended the sacrifices of bullocks, and remained long at

his devotions. But he never could derive either power or inspiration

from his prayers to the gods, and he rose from them with an expression

of discontent and impatience. The boys were glad to return to Aldby,

dissatisfied also, and eager for some more sympathetic teaching. This

they found in the Princess Alca, who to them was the type of perfect

beauty and goodness.

[Illustration: Princess Alca Telling Stories to the Boys]

They had attended her on an excursion to the foot of the Wolds, and

rested on a rising ground under the spreading branches of a tall ash

tree, with Aldby in sight beyond the river, and a mass of waving

foliage at their feet. The sun was still high, the stillness only

broken by the songs of birds. Alca sat on one of the projecting roots.

The boys were lying down at her feet, surrounded by leaves and flowers,

which they had been collecting to decorate her bower. Porlor broke the

silence by asking the Princess to teach them the story of Balder, and

its meaning. "Porlor," she said, "was right to be the spokesman, for

his name should make him a student of Balder's lore. But I see by your

eyes," she added, "that you all wish me to talk to you of the Son of

God. Listen, then, to one who seeks, though with little help and in

twilight, to learn and to show to others the true meaning of hidden

mysteries. Balder was the son of the All-father, of the Creator of

gods and men. He was the god of light, and grace, and manly beauty.

His brow was white as the chamomile flower. Through him deeds of true

bravery were done on the earth, the weak were protected, virtue was

practised, and justice was maintained. But a prophecy that Balder would

perish afflicted the gods. Then Frigga, the spouse of Woden, took an

oath from all created nature that no individual thing would harm the

pride of Asgard, the beloved of gods and men. But the goddess made a

fatal omission. She forgot a sprig of mistletoe. Being invulnerable,

Balder allowed the gods to use him as a target. Now Loki, as you know,

was born among the yotuns. He was false and full of wickedness, father

of the terrible wolf Fenris and of Hela, ruler of the dead. Loki put

mistletoe into the hands of the blind god Haudr, and with this he slew

the best and greatest of Woden's sons, who descended into hell. The

All-father himself went down into the dark abode of Hela, to persuade

her to relinquish her prey. She agreed, if all created nature would

weep for Balder. All nature did mourn for the loss of the god of

goodness and beauty, save one old crone. 'What have the gods done for

me,' she said, 'that I should weep for Balder? Let Hela keep her dead.'

Thus Balder's fate was sealed, and with it the fate of the world;

for justice, mercy, virtue, and true bravery ceased to prevail with

Balder's death, though they did not entirely cease to exist. I know

not why the All-father, in his wisdom, has submitted to this evil. But

it can only be for a time. The Son of God will rise again in triumph.

I sometimes think that he has risen, though as yet we know it not."

Then the far-off look came again into Alca's blue eyes, and during the

rest of her speech she gazed into the heavens. The boys listened almost

breathless.

"I think that God has risen to redeem the world," she resumed. "I am

impelled to this belief, though I know not why, or by what guiding

power. But misfortune and sorrow will not end--not yet. Coelred,

Hereric, Oswith, Forthere, Porlor, I love you as very dear brothers.

It is perhaps by reason of my love that insight is given to me. There

is borne into my mind a feeling that some great calamity is impending

over you all, and that it will fall upon you together. In this there

is a ray of comfort." She paused, and Coelred said, "If misfortune

overtakes us, O Princess, we will strive to meet it as Englishmen, as

sons of our brave fathers, ever victorious in battle!" "And," said

Oswith, "in all our troubles we will ever remember the goodness of our

beloved Princess." Forthere spoke words like those of Coelred, which

were echoed by the younger boys.

"Of that I am certain," continued Alca. "You will quit yourselves like

men--above all, like Englishmen. If you are together in your trials,

Coelred will be your leader. The fearless Oswith will be your support,

and will help to form your plans. Forthere, too, will be a trusty

friend. Porlor will be most shrewd as an adviser, and his rede should

be followed; and my sweet cousin Hereric will enlighten counsels by his

imagination. O my boys! remember that if sorrow comes, Alca is praying

for you and thinking of you. Always act as if the Son of God had risen.

Be brave. Love one another. Love truth. Be just and merciful. If you

hear that God has truly risen, then remember my words. Be true to

yourselves, and you will triumph in the end. May the gods watch over

you!"

There was a long silence. Alca rose and turned homewards, surrounded by

the boys with their sweet burdens. Anxious to turn their thoughts from

the solemn and depressing theme on which she had been led to dwell for

a time, by a force beyond her control, the Princess sang them a merry

song, and talked to them of the return of their victorious fathers,

which was expected on the following day. When the party reached Aldby

all were chatting and romping, and the boys turned into an inner court

to exercise themselves in feats of strength.

Next day the King arrived. Ella was a large man, like his brother,

but he looked much older, worn with illness, and his expression was

melancholy and somewhat stern. Elfric rode by his side, Seomel,

Guthlaf, Brand, and the other chiefs followed, and there was a goodly

array of English warriors. They dismounted at the Roman colonnade,

and were soon surrounded by wives and children. The great feast that

night in the old prætorium was ordered and arranged like that of

Seomel, but on a much larger and more regal scale. The Queen herself

took round the mead-cup to the guests, and when she retired there were

songs of victory, and the harp was passed from one to another. One

warrior had recited the events of the campaign, and received great

applause. Another told of the surprise of the Billingas by the cruel

and treacherous Certicus. Late in the evening Coifi took the harp, and

selected for his song the warning of Hrothgar to Beowulf on the frail

tenure of human life. This choice was resented by some of those present

as being intended to have reference to the King; but Ella himself

approved, and the gleeman continued as follows:--

Soon will it be

That sickness or the sword

Shall part thee from power;

Or clutch of fire,

Or wave of flood,

Or gripe of sword,

Or javelin's flight,

Or ugly age,

Or glance of eye

Shall oppress and darken thee.

This melancholy dirge concluded the feast, and before another year had

passed King Ella was in his grave.

The time of parting came only too soon. The Lady Volisia, with her

daughters and the children of Elfric, returned to Stillingfleet. The

Atheling himself, with Seomel, proceeded to York to make further

preparations for strengthening the frontier posts, and it was arranged

that Seomel should go thence, with supplies of weapons and stores, to

Bilbrough, Calcaria, and Ulfskelf, before returning home. He was to

take a large escort of Stillingas, and, to their great joy, the three

elder boys and Porlor were to accompany him.

The Atheling and those who were to go with him to York took leave

of the King and Queen. But when the boys came to say farewell to the

Princess Alca their hearts were too full for words, and tears were in

their eyes. They loved and worshipped her, they would all have died for

her, but not a word could they say. She spoke very gently and calmly,

repeating what she had said yesterday. "Remember my words. Be true to

yourselves, and may the gods watch over you."

After the cavalcade started, the boys looked back again and again,

waving their caps, until the graceful form under the colonnade was lost

to sight. When would they see her again? Ah, when!

CHAPTER IV

YORK AND THE DEIRAN FRONTIER

_Aberach_, the British mound by the confluence of Ouse and Foss, was

converted into the Roman camp of _Eburacum_ by Agricola in A.D. 79,

and from a camp became an imperial city, and the headquarters of the

6th Legion for nearly three centuries. The camp was surrounded by a

ditch 9 feet deep and 32 wide, with an _agger_ or rampart fortified by

_valli_. The sides were 692 yards long, with four gates, and there was

a space of about a hundred yards between the ditch and the river Ouse.

But in A.D. 120 the Emperor Hadrian caused the _valli_ to be replaced

by substantial walls of alternate layers of bricks and masonry, with

towers at the angles. The multangular tower at the north-west is still

standing. The prætorium was converted into an imperial palace, and

stood on the ground now occupied by gardens on the south-east side of

Goodramgate, and by Aldwark and Peterna. A temple of Bellona stood on

the site of part of St. Mary's Abbey and the manor. Hyeronimianus of

the 6th Legion had dedicated a temple to Serapis on the site of Fryar's

Garden, and there was an artificial cave for the worship of Mithras on

a site in Micklegate, opposite St. Martin's Church. The sites of other

temples and theatres, which must have existed, are now unknown. The

dense forest of Galtres came close up to the Prætorian gate, whence a

road led to Isurium, and the Decumanian gate was in the centre of the

opposite wall.

When the English arrived the 6th Legion had been gone for upwards of a

century and a half, the place had been frequently pillaged, the walls

were broken down in several places, and the beautiful Roman edifices

were in ruins. King Ella had repaired the breaches in the walls with

strong palisades, and his brother Elfric had made a portion of the

imperial palace habitable.

Seomel and the four boys were the guests of the Atheling for a few

days, while weapons were collected and got ready for the use of the

outposts beyond the Wharfe. The boys wandered about among the ruins,

and gazed upon the porticoes and colonnades with awe and admiration.

It was then that they first heard of the great emperors of Rome and of

the Legions, and they understood dimly that their own people were only

beginning to build up a new empire on the ruins of a glorious past. One

day they had crossed the river Ouse to see the tombs which lined both

sides of the Roman road leading to the south. Many were broken down,

but some were still standing, especially on the higher ground. There

was a beautiful monument on the Mount, where a youth and a maiden had

been buried, for their figures were carved in relief on the stone, but

of course the boys could not read the inscription. Here they rested,

gazing over the swampy expanse of Knavesmire, and Porlor fancied that

the two figures represented lovers who had been cut off in the flower

of their youth. They were worshippers of Nehalennia; for a deity, like

the one at Appleton, was carved in the semicircular space over their

heads.

In running down the slope towards the river, the boys stopped at the

entrance of the cave of Mithras, and entered with feelings of curiosity

mingled with awe. In the dim light they could see a bull on its knees,

and a young man plunging a knife into its neck. "What can it mean? Is

it a priest sacrificing a bullock to Woden?" said Oswith. "That cannot

be," objected Coelred, "for the images were not made by our people, nor

do we make images of the sacrificers but of the gods, and those only at

Godmundham." Porlor sat long gazing at the fine bas-relief, on which a

few rays from the sun cast a dim light. "The being with a high cap," he

said, "is a god, not a man. I see by his face that he is a good god."

His companions looked again more closely. "The god is plunging a knife

into the bull, but it is not to do harm but good, for he is a good

god." He again sat thinking. "It is a mystery," he said at last, "and

we are too ignorant to solve it." "Alca would understand," said the

other boys. They walked down to the river, and, crossing it, returned

to the "Aldwark," as the ruined palace was then called.

Next day Seomel left York with a number of laden horses, and a

strong force as an escort. The four boys were with him. Again they

passed the mysterious cave of Mithras, and the monument of the two

lovers on the Mount, as they wended their way southward along the

Roman road. These Roman roads in Britain were so admirably constructed

that, although they had been neglected for more than a century, they

were still serviceable. The mode of construction was as follows:--Two

parallel furrows were dug to mark the width, and all loose earth was

removed down to the rock. The first layer for the road was called the

_pavimentum_. On it was laid a bed of small squared stones called

_statumen_. The next layer consisted of a mass of small stones broken

to pieces and mixed with lime, called _rudus_ or _ruderatio_. The

third layer, called _nucleus_, was a mixture of lime, chalk, broken

tiles, all beaten together. On this was laid the _summum dorsum_ or

pavement of stones, sometimes like our paving-stones, but oftener of

square flagstones. At proper intervals there were stations for changing

horses, called _mutationes_, supplied with horses and _veredarii_ or

postilions, and in charge of stationmasters called _statores_. The

_miliaria_ or milestones were perfect stone cylinders about 3-1/2 feet

high, on bases.

The arrangements for travelling were out of gear, and most of the

_mutationes_ were in ruins or had been destroyed when King Ella

reigned. But the splendid road was so admirably constructed that it

was still efficient. Seomel had been delayed, and had not started

until nearly sunset, but he made the best of his way, and reached the

dwelling of Saebald the Fairfax, chief of the Billingas, long before

dark. Here the night was to be passed. It was here that Saebald's

predecessor had dwelt, and here the old warrior had been surprised by

the Britons and killed. The place is now called Street Houses. The

house was one of the _mutationes_ of the Roman road, to which some

wooden buildings had been added. But it was exposed, and it was the

intention of Saebald to remove his people to a stockaded burg on the

summit of what was afterwards called Ingrish Hill, about a mile to the

westward of the road. Saebald received his guests with much cordiality,

and after supper he was quite willing to satisfy the eager curiosity

of the boys about the life and death of the Viking chief Vidfinn, and

about the strange fate of his children, rumours of which had reached

them.

The hall of the Billingas was lighted with torches, and after some

conversation with Seomel touching the defences and the supply of

weapons, the good-natured Saebald turned to the boys and began his

tale. "Vidfinn," he said, "was a mighty sea-rover, and like Brand, his

brother, a stanch follower of the Eolderman Iffi, father of our king.

When the English first advanced beyond the Ouse they were led by Brand

and Vidfinn, and Vidfinn eventually formed this frontier station beyond

the road, where he and his followers settled. He brought two children,

a boy and a girl, with him, named Hjuk and Bil, to whom he was devoted.

He called his burg after the girl, Bilbrough, and his people hence were

called _Billingas_. It so happened that the spring beside his dwelling

on the road was fouled by cattle, and for a time they had to use the

water from a well called _Byrgir_, about half a mile up the hill. One

day Hjuk and Bil went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. They took

a pole named _Simul_, on which they slung the bucket _Saeg_, and away

they went, Bil in front and Hjuk behind, talking and laughing so that

the people heard them and thought no harm. But they never returned."

The boys had listened eagerly, and Oswith now asked if search was made

for the lost children. "Yes, indeed," answered Saebald. "The pole

_Simul_ and the bucket _Saeg_ were found lying near the well _Byrgir_

in such a position as to make people think that Hjuk must have fallen

down, and that Bil must have come tumbling after. But they were both

gone. Search was made in all directions and continued long, but with no

result. Vidfinn was wild with grief. At length, in gazing at Mani, who,

as you know, is seen on the face of the moon and directs its course,

Vidfinn thought he saw two children behind him, and he became convinced

that Mani had taken Hjuk and Bil up from the earth as they were coming

from the well. They help Mani by presiding over the tides of the ocean,

it is thought: Hjuk looks after the flow, while Bil directs the ebb,

and both together send the long high wave up the rivers, which you boys

must often have seen, and which is named after the god Ægir."

When Saebald paused, the boys ran out into the road and gazed at

the moon. They then saw, what they had never before observed, that

there really were two children behind Mani. Astonished and intensely

interested, they returned and entreated Saebald to tell them the rest

of the story of Vidfinn. The fair-haired chief of the Billingas said

that little remained to tell, and before beginning he showed the boys

the pole _Simul_ and the bucket _Saeg_, which hung on the carved

door-post of the hall, and had escaped attention from the Britons.

"When Vidfinn had satisfied himself that his beloved children were safe

in the hands of Mani," resumed Saebald, "he was consoled, and ten years

ago he took another wife, a daughter of one of the Billingas, and had a

son named Sivel, but the mother died. Peace had continued so long that

the old Viking was off his guard and completely taken by surprise when

his burg was attacked at the dead of night by the army of the Britons.

He sent little Sivel away with a girl, and they escaped to Ulfskelf.

Vidfinn then defended his home desperately, with his Billingas, and

at length he fell amidst a heap of slain. He was amply avenged by the

King and his brave warriors, and a worthy tumulus has been raised to

the memory of the founder of Bilbrough. My father was Beorn, another

of his brothers," concluded the Fairfax, "and as his successor, in the

minority of Sivel, I am proud to be the host of the valiant Seomel and

his knights" (_cnihts_ or boys). By this time the eyes of the four boys

were heavy, and they no sooner threw themselves on their heaps of fresh

straw in the hall than they were all fast asleep.

At dawn the two chiefs, Seomel and Saebald, went up to the Ingrish

Hill to inspect the progress of the stockade and to serve out weapons

to the Billingas, and on the way the boys were shown the tumulus of

Vidfinn, and, a little farther on, the deep well _Byrgir_. The tumulus

had been raised on the very spot where the bucket _Saeg_ and the pole

_Simul_ were found in the grass, so that it is a monument both to the

Viking father and to the children kidnapped by Mani.

Taking their leave of the hospitable lord of Bilbrough, Seomel and

the boys rode down the Roman road and came to the great battle-field

of Helagh. Seomel showed them the place where the enemy's slain were

buried, which is called "Hell Hole" to this day. They then went on

to the river Wharfe, and crossed by the ford of Nehalennia to the

old Roman station of Calcaria, where a strong English outpost was

established. Seomel went a mile or two down the river, and fixed upon

a hill called Kele-bor for another military station, to guard against

sudden incursions from Elmet; while the boys wandered up the stream

to a limestone crag. Here the water was deliciously cool and clear,

so different from the muddy floods of Wharfe and Ouse, lower down.

They stripped and plunged into it, and after their bath they went to

the famous shrine of their mother's goddess Nehalennia at Calcaria.

Here, in the midst of the white limestone country, the guardian deity

of chalk workers and of fruit trees received highest honour. Here

too, among her favourite white rocks, she lavished her favours most

abundantly among the fruit orchards, and even now the real wine-sour

plum will only grow on the Brotherton lime, and in the Sherburn

district. Crossing the ford once more, and riding along the banks of

the Wharfe, the little party was very hospitably welcomed at Ulfskelf

by the grand old warrior Brand and his wife Verbeia, a sister of the

Lady Volisia. Here Coelred and Porlor made the acquaintance of the

little Sivel, a bright intelligent child, in whom the strange story

told them by Saebald had made them feel a deep interest. Taking leave

of their cousin Forthere and of Sivel at Ulfskelf next morning, and of

Oswith, who rode on to Hemingborough, Seomel and his two sons arrived

at their home. Here they found the Lady Volisia with the children of

Elfric--Hereric, Bergliot, and Osric--her own daughters Braga and

Nanna, and the dog Shuprak. Thus once more was the happy and united

family assembled in the hall of Stillingfleet, with peace fully

restored, and all fear of danger vanished. How fortunate it is that it

is not given to any of us to know, and to few of us to foreshadow, what

a week or a month may bring forth.

CHAPTER V

KIDNAPPED

"I feel the Berserker rage flowing through me, and arousing the

desire to fight and to kill." It was Hereric who spoke, and he ended

his strange words with a wild shout. "You, Hereric!" exclaimed Porlor;

"why, you are the gentlest of us all, though no niddring. How strange

that you should be so taken! Yet I have heard Coifi say that the hour

when the sacred rage inflames us no man knows, but that it should never

be resisted. When it comes, he told me, we must kill and kill." He

raised another shout, which was echoed by Hereric and Coelred. "Lead

us to the attack of savage beasts ten times our size," said Porlor to

Coelred, whose eyes were also sparkling with excitement. "That will I,"

shouted the elder boy; "I will fight any one ten times my size," and he

threw his arms over his head. The three boys had just been having their

morning bath, and were sitting and lying on the grass, with their feet

in the water of the brook, which rippled over the stones.

It was early morning, and they were to take Bergliot with them into

the woods. When they ran home to get their arms, the young princess

was waiting at the gate. In a few minutes they joined her, with hosen

cross-girt, knives at their sides, and spears in their hands. "We are

full of Berserker rage," they told her. "You are full of naughtiness"

(the word she used was _hinderscype_), she answered, "and will be

whipped." Yet their excitement was contagious, for she ran back into

the hall and returned with a short spear and Shuprak at her heels.

All four then ran wildly down the hill and over the brook, shouting

and brandishing their spears, with the dog running and barking in

front. Startled by the noise, the Lady Volisia came to the gate, and

watched them, with anxious eyes, until they were hidden by the trees.

Then tears trickled down her cheeks. She never saw the boys again.

The wild young creatures made a great circuit in the forest, hurling

their spears at everything, and running at speed until they came to the

willow thicket where the Stillingfleet brook empties itself into the

river Ouse. Here they paused to regain their breath.

Presently Bergliot, in looking through the leafy branches of the

willows at the surface of the water, saw, sitting on a tree trunk on

the edge of the bank, what she thought was a nixy or water sprite. It

was singing, she fancied, but the sound was scarcely audible. "There

is a nixy," she said in a whisper to the rest, pointing to where it

sat. "Let us kill it," said Hereric. They all ran forward; the boys

pushed the little creature into the rushing stream with the butt ends

of their spears, while the girl threw a needle at it, which is supposed

to be fatal to such sprites. Then they all sang the cruel spell and ran

away:--

Nix, Nix--needle in water,

Virgin casteth steel in water

Thou sink and we flee.

As they ran they could hear a long wailing cry, and when they stopped

out of breath it appeared to all of them to form itself into these

ominous words:--

Dreadful your doom,

Slaves shall ye be,

Kindred and home

Never to see.

They looked at each other half-frightened, and Bergliot began to

cry. She said she wanted to go home. The boys embraced her tenderly

and kissed her, and Coelred told Shuprak to see her safe back. As she

turned away she asked them to tell Oswith, if they saw him, that she

hoped he would come to visit her very soon. She waved a farewell to

them with her hand. Reluctantly, and after casting many longing glances

at his young masters, the dog went home with the little girl. "Let us

defy the omen," said Coelred: "let us go further afield to satiate our

Berserker rage," and all three again plunged into the forest. They

ran for hours, hurling their spears at every creature that came in

sight. At length, on emerging from the forest into the heathy expanse

of Skipwith Common, they paused for a moment to look round. Close by

there was a huge wild bull of a dun colour, with spreading horns, and

three cows. Coelred uttered a triumphant cry and hurled his spear at

the bull's shoulder. In a moment the ferocious creature was upon him,

threw him down amongst the heather, and would have gored and crushed

him, if Porlor had not diverted its attention by driving his spear into

its flank. It turned round foaming with rage just as Porlor sprang

behind a tree and Hereric faced it on one knee with his spear pointed.

Wild with rage, it dashed in his direction, then halted with its head

up, its eyes glaring, and foam dropping from its mouth. Coelred had

been stunned for a minute. He now ran up and attacked the bull in the

flank, prodding it with his spear. Daunted by the vigour of the attack,

the bull now galloped across the common, followed by the cows. The

boys gave chase, shouting and brandishing their weapons, coming up

with their antagonist amidst dense underwood, where they succeeded in

killing it with their spears. As the noble creature fell there was a

downpour of rain and a loud clap of thunder, and amidst the peals the

boys thought they again heard the ominous curse of the nixy:--

Dreadful your doom,

Slaves shall ye be,

Kindred and home

Never to see.

They dashed wildly on, they knew not whither. Porlor started a

wild-cat, which sprang up a tree. He followed with marvellous agility.

The chase turned fiercely at bay, and Coelred climbed up the tree to

help. There was a desperate fight among the branches, and the boys got

some nasty scratches, but at last one of them plunged a knife into

the cat, it lost its hold, and fell to the ground. Meanwhile Hereric

had roused a badger from its hole and kept it at bay with his spear.

Its mouth was open and its rows of sharp teeth glistened. It would

have gone hard with the Atheling if Coelred had not sprung upon it

from behind and plunged his knife into a vital part. Once more the

three boys resumed their wild career, with the ominous words of the

nixy ringing in their ears. The sun was low when they emerged from the

forest and came out on the banks of the muddy Ouse just at the point

where the Wharfe joins it. They were now exhausted and hungry, so tired

indeed that they could run no more without rest. They were unhappy too,

and frightened at the sounds which seemed to form themselves into such

dreadful words. The three boys threw themselves on the grass, and in a

minute they were fast asleep.

They had not seen a long black boat, like some foul snake, creeping

stealthily down the Wharfe to its confluence. It was flat-bottomed

and of unusual beam, but low in the water. The crew consisted of

half a dozen villainous-looking ruffians, sent by a vessel anchored

at the mouth of the Humber to Calcaria on pretence of selling some

cloths, and the return cargo was to be stolen. They were sea-thieves

and cut-throats. As they descended the Wharfe they saw Forthere and

Sivel fishing on the bank and suspecting no evil. Four of them sprang

on shore, and in a minute the lads were bound hand and foot, gagged,

and thrown into the bottom of the boat. A few minutes afterwards they

came in sight of the confluence, just in time to see Coelred, Porlor,

and Hereric throw themselves on the grass by the opposite shore. Very

stealthily the boat was brought under the bank. Coelred and Hereric

were overpowered and bound before they were half awake. Porlor,

however, was aroused by the footsteps. He had time to draw his knife

and make a desperate resistance, gashing the arm of one ruffian and

stabbing another in the hand. But he was quickly overpowered. His two

companions were thrown into the bottom of the boat, where, to their

horror and astonishment, they found Forthere and little Sivel in like

plight. Porlor was put across a thwart and given an unmerciful beating

with a thong of leather, which, in the dialect of the cut-throats,

was called a _lorum_. His young friends were nearly mad with impotent

rage as they heard the ferocious blows being showered on the child's

body. At last he was thrown, bruised and bleeding, among the rest; but,

bound as they were, they could do nothing to console or help him. It

all seemed like a horrible dream; they scarcely knew where they were,

and could do nothing but sob as they were roused at intervals from a

half-dozing state.

Meanwhile the boat went swiftly down the Ouse with an ebb-tide. The

villains kept a sharp look-out on either bank, and, when half a mile

above Hemingborough, they saw a boy bathing, and swimming out boldly

as the tide had slackened. Thinking no harm, he caught hold of one of

the boat's oars to rest. In an instant his wrists were seized, he was

bound hand and foot, and thrown into the bottom of the boat with the

others. It was Oswith. He was quite naked, and one of the crew threw a

coarse cloth over him. The grief of the rest of the kidnapped children

was redoubled at the sight of their beloved friend, the fearless son of

Guthlaf. He was as little able to understand what had really happened

as they were, yet he tried to console them. He whispered that he would

look out for chances of escape, and reminded them that at least they

had the consolation of being together.

All through the night the boat kept her course down the Humber, with

the tide against them during the first watch, but with a fair wind. Off

the mouth of the Trent the sea-thieves stopped and made fast, until

they were joined by another smaller boat coming down that river, which

went alongside and passed another boy on board. In spite of their

misery and discomfort, the kidnapped children were fast asleep while

the boat was waiting in the mud, and they were aroused by another

little boy being thrown amongst them. He said that he was Godric the

son of Ulchel, a thegn of the Gainas. He seemed to be as small as

Sivel. After a time the seven forlorn children went fast asleep as the

boat was rowed down the Humber, and finally came alongside the vessel

whose leader had sent the thieves on their kidnapping errand.

This vessel was small, but suited for sea-voyages, and with much

more beam than was allowed for an ordinary fighting ship. Her lines

were indeed very unlike those of a dragon ship of the Vikings. For she

was built primarily for trading, and in the second place for piracy,

whenever the opportunity offered, and she had a capacious hold, now

half full of merchandise. She was lying off Ravenspur, the site of the

Roman station of Prætorium, under the shelter of Y-kill, the Ocellum

Promontorium, now Spurn Head. The seven boys were bundled out of the

boat and into the ship's hold like so many bales of goods, and the

boats were turned adrift. They had been stolen. The vessel then got

under weigh and hoisted her single sail, shaping a southerly course,

with a strong breeze which soon freshened into a gale. The stolen

children nestled together and slept long, for they were quite worn

out with anxiety and grief, to which three of them had added a day of

intense excitement and fatigue. They awoke quite famished and were

given some food, but throughout the voyage the poor children were

treated with vile inhumanity, half-starved, and exposed to the seas

which washed into the vessel during the gale. They could not have

survived many more days of such treatment. Fortunately the wind was

fair, and the voyage had been a short though a stormy one, when the

piratical thieves anchored in the port of Amfleet. It is not known

whence they came nor what land was disgraced by having bred them, nor

does it matter. They were paid and employed by a trader with more

humanity but as little conscience as themselves.

CHAPTER VI

MYSTACON

Mystacon was the principal trader between Gaul and the northern

countries on the one hand, and Italy and the East on the other, during

the latter part of the sixth century. He was a Greek, a native of

Crete, brought up by a merchant at Massilia, and his life had been

devoted to mercantile pursuits, in which his cunning, ability, and

absence of all scruples had enabled him to amass wealth, which he

sought by every means to increase. In those days Brunehaud, a Gothic

princess from Spain, was Regent of the eastern part of France, called

Austrasia, her husband, King Sigebert, having been assassinated in 575.

Neustria, which included northern and central France, was governed by

Queen Fredegonda as Regent to her little son Clotaire II. A handsome

woman of low extraction, she had waded through murders and other evil

deeds to her lofty position, in which she maintained herself by her

strong will. Capable of any crime to gain her objects, courageous and

unscrupulous, she must have possessed great ability and astuteness to

have been successful in maintaining her power so long in that turbulent

age. Her husband, Chilperic I., died by poison administered by his wife

in 584, and Fredegonda was Regent from that year until 596. Gontran,

the brother of Sigebert and Chilperic, was King of Burgundy. A fourth

brother, Charibert, King of Paris, who was father of Bertha, the wife

of Ethelbert, King of Kent, died without male issue in 570. These four

brothers were the grandsons of Clovis.

The Greek trader, when he found that the fierce nation of the Franks

was ruled over by the Queen-Regents, Brunehaud and Fredegonda, hastened

to propitiate them by presents, and to secure their patronage. As

regards Fredegonda he had been successful. He consulted her wishes, and

brought her the luxuries she required both from the north and south,

always as free offerings. In return he was under her protection, his

goods were to pass unmolested through her dominions, and he was to be

assisted by her officers. He had been granted similar privileges by

King Gontran of Burgundy, whose country included the shores of the

Rhone from Lyons to the sea.

In his northern trade Mystacon employed agents to bring him valuable

furs and amber, and even unicorns' horns, from the countries bordering

on the Baltic, tin from Cornwall, and occasionally he paid sea-thieves

to kidnap young children from the north, who fetched high prices in the

markets of Rome and Constantinople. He had a shed at Ambleteuse where

he received his northern merchandise, preferring that little port to

the neighbouring harbour of Gessoriacum (Boulogne), because a Frankish

officer, from whom his gifts had secured him favour and protection, was

stationed there with a strong body of disciplined followers.

Mystacon had been several days at Ambleteuse, his merchandise was

stored in the shed, and his servants had pack-horses ready to convey

it southward along the old Roman road, when the vessel from the Humber

anchored off the port and landed its cargo. The crew was composed of

such dangerous villains that the merchant induced the Queen-Regent's

officer to post armed men behind his shed, before he ventured to confer

with them. Besides a pile of beaver skins and other commodities,

seven boys were put on shore. They stood on the sandy beach close

together, the little ones clinging to the three bigger lads. All were

wet through, and looked half-starved and miserable. Porlor and little

Godric were clinging to Coelred. Sivel had his arms round Forthere, and

Hereric nestled under the sheltering arm of the son of Guthlaf. Oswith

the fearless, who was nearly naked, with only a bit of sackcloth round

his loins, alone maintained a defiant look. There was no longer any

sign or token of Berserker rage among the rest.

The wily Greek came forward to look at them. He saw their great

beauty and their value, but he also saw from their appearance that they

had been cruelly treated. The sea-thieves demanded the payment he had

promised, so much for each. "But they are not in good condition," he

remonstrated; "the price must be reduced." A livid mark on Porlor's

neck caught his quick, searching eye. He pulled down the boy's shirt,

and saw that his back was covered with weals, the effect of the cruel

flogging he had received. "Damaged goods," he said. Then, turning to

his servants, he told them to take the boys into the shed, and to

clothe and feed them. "I will only pay half-price for damaged goods,"

he repeated, turning to the spokesman of the sea-thieves. "That little

wild-cat used his knife on one of us," the man answered, "and the

flogging served him right." "What is that to me, my friend?" rejoined

Mystacon, in a low but irritating voice. "You can please yourselves

about damaging your goods, that is your business, but you cannot expect

to get the same price as if they were not damaged. If a heavy bale was

to fall and hurt one of you, of course it is open to you to cut and

slash it if you please, and it may serve the bale right. That I do not

dispute. But you must not expect the same price in the market as if the

bale had not been cut and slashed. I can only pay you half-price for

the boys." The kidnappers could not follow the subtle argument of the

Greek, but they began to look dangerous. The merchant retreated back

a few paces. "Pay us what you promised, thou cursed cheat, or we will

kill thee and the boys too." He retreated rapidly back and cried out

for help, as the villains drew their long knives and rushed towards

him. In another minute they were all overpowered and thrown on the

ground by the Frankish guard. The officer came forward and suggested

capital punishment, offering to hang them in a row. "It is the just

and proper treatment," said Mystacon, "of those who try to extort

full price for damaged goods from unwary traders. As soon as your

laudable proposal has been carried into effect, I shall have pleasure

in requesting your lordship to accept the large sum which the criminals

refused." Another hour had not passed before twenty bodies were hanging

from the branches of the stunted pines round Ambleteuse, and before the

Frankish officer had an additional reason for extending his protection

to the wily merchant.

Mystacon set out with his train of laden horses and attendants early

next morning, following the old Roman road by Amiens, Soissons, and

Autun to Lyons. The boys had been warmly clothed and fed, and had

slept well, nor were they prevented from having a morning bath in the

sea. Two pack-horses were allowed them, so that they could ride by

turns, while the rest trotted along on the road-side. They found that

they could understand much that was said to them by the servants, and

when Mystacon spoke the Frank dialect slowly and clearly, they could

comprehend the meaning of nearly every word. For in those days there

was little difference between the Frankish and other Teutonic dialects.

The journey across Picardy restored the health and strength, and

revived the spirits, of the English lads. This limestone tract, with

its keen fresh air, arable surface, and well-watered meadows, reminded

them of the country round Calcaria. At Samarobriva, or Amiens, they

rested, and Mystacon was allowed to store his goods against the wall

of the town, and to encamp there by the Roman gate of the Twins,

whereon was carved Romulus and Remus suckled by the wolf. This was the

first opportunity the boys had found of collecting their thoughts,

and holding a serious consultation. Even now they scarcely understood

what had happened or where they were. Their first words, as they sat

among the bales, were words of grief at the sorrow and anxiety of their

relations, who would search high and low through the woods, until at

last they gave them up as dead. "Alca will give them hope and courage,"

said Coelred. "She will know that we are together, and she knows that

we shall return. For we are to die in battle fighting for a righteous

cause, and that cannot be anywhere but in England. She is praying now

that the gods will watch over us, and her prayers are ever answered."

These words, spoken with an air of conviction, comforted the rest. "We

must suffer," said Oswith, "but that does not signify when we have such

good reason for hope. Porlor has already suffered more than the rest

of us." "At that I rejoice," said Porlor, whose little head had been

teeming with ideas suggested by Mithras and the bull, ever since he had

gazed on the sculpture at York. "Through suffering we shall all win the

rewards prepared for the true and brave; and the thong those niddring

thieves called _lorum_ is no word of bane to me, but of good luck."

"Nay, then," said Hereric, smiling, "we must fasten it to thy name and

call thee Porlorlorum." "Let it be so," answered the imaginative child;

"it will remind me, and all of us, in the happy years that will surely

come when this darkness has been turned to light, that we had to pass

through suffering to happiness and home."

They then began to wonder what their position really was, and whither

Mystacon was taking them. They had already discovered that he was a

cunning liar, and they believed nothing he told them, although he had

uniformly treated them with kindness. Forthere proposed to run away,

and both Coelred and Oswith were inclined to some plan of making their

way across country to the coast, and seizing a boat. But they would not

attempt it unarmed. Alca had told them that little Porlor should give

them counsel, and they all turned to him. "My rede is that we wait to

learn more, and to see what will happen," he said. "I do not fear the

distance this man is taking us from home, if we have knowledge. A short

distance with ignorance means disaster, perhaps death. A very great

distance is easy to go over with knowledge of all the obstacles, and of

the way to overcome or avoid them. The wisdom of Alca and her insight

will bring comfort to our parents. It is for us to remember her words,

to follow them, to wait and watch until the time comes for us to go

home. I know the time will come, and the gods will watch over us." "We

will wait and watch," they all said. It was now dark. They laid their

weary heads down side by side, and passed into a happy sleep. Their

dreams were of home and kindred.

The boys had their morning bath in one of the numerous bright little

trout streams, bordered by aspen and willow, which flow down to the

sands of St. Valery. Later in the morning, as they sat talking near the

Gate of the Twins, a monk came out in a long dark-coloured cassock,

with a rope round his waist. He was a young man, with a patient look

in his grey eyes, and a circlet of thick fair hair round his tonsure.

When he saw the lads, he stopped to improve the occasion. He asked them

if they knew what had happened at that Gate of the Twins, and he told

them the story of St. Martin. "Out of this gate," he said, "long, long

ago, a brave and virtuous Roman soldier named Martin rode, on a very

frosty winter's day. He had a cloak wrapped closely round him, and as

he passed along the causeway he saw a poor man shivering with cold.

Martin drew his sword and, cutting his cloak in two, he gave half to

the beggar. This was charity, the greatest of all virtues, which covers

a multitude of sins. Martin was afterwards baptized in the half cloak,

and became a Christian and a Saint." After a pause he asked, "Are you

Christians?" Coelred answered that they did not so much as know that

there were such people as Christians. "But," he added, "we know very

well that it is good to give to those who are in need; for the Princess

Alca has taught us." "We know it," said Hereric, "and we try to

remember to act as she has taught us, but we are not always able to do

right." The hearts of all the boys were warming towards the young monk.

There was a longer pause, and then the monk told them that they must

be baptized into the fold of Christ. He raised his voice. "The Son of

God went down into hell, but now He has risen from the dead." The boys

started to their feet with looks of astonishment and deep interest.

These were almost the very words spoken by the Princess Alca, under

the ash tree at the foot of Garraby Hill. "Then Alca is right!" they

exclaimed. "She is always right. The Son of God has risen." Porlor

went on to ask about baptism, when Mystacon came forward. He had been

listening to the latter part of the conversation, and did not like it.

Concealing his displeasure by a forced smile, he invented a lie on

the spur of the moment. "By the order of the Bishop of Noviodunum,"

he said, addressing the monk, "these Pagan youths are being conducted

to his city to be duly instructed and baptized. I thank you for the

interest you have taken in them, but your help is not needed." There

was nothing more to be said. The good monk gave his blessing to the

boys, and went on his way, while Mystacon issued hurried orders for the

pack-horses to be loaded, and in another hour he and his merchandise

were again journeying southward; but he kept well clear of the city of

Noviodunum (Soissons).

The most anxious part of the journey for the merchant was

approaching. He was bound to visit the Queen, wherever she might be,

both on the way north and south, and she took whatever she fancied

without paying. Even this heavy and uncertain tax generally left a

wide margin of profit, but it was a source of anxiety, and he now

feared that she might take a fancy to the beautiful English boys.

Fortune, however, favoured him. Fredegonda was, he had ascertained, at

the manor of Braine-sur-la-Vesle, between Soissons and Rheims, but he

had also learned that she was on the point of departure. He cunningly

timed his arrival on the day that she was to begin her journey, in the

hope that she would accept a present, and, in the hurry of starting,

forgo her usual practice of rummaging through the whole contents of

his caravan. Late on the third evening after leaving Amiens, Mystacon

encamped outside the gates of Braine-sur-la-Vesle. This Merovingian

palace was an immense farm, with large unfortified wooden houses,

stables, barns, and cow-sheds. In the morning the Franks in attendance

on the royal family began to march out of the great enclosure. They

had a fierce air, with large and vigorous bodies, inured to cold and

hunger. Their favourite weapon, the battle-axe with a short handle,

rested on their shoulders, and they wore their long hair tied up over

their foreheads, forming a kind of aigrette, then falling behind like

a horse's tail. The long line of the escort of warriors was followed

by several waggons drawn by oxen. In the first sat Fredegonda, with

the little King Clotaire, then only four years of age. She was a most

formidable-looking woman, with a fierce, cruel glance in her large

black eyes, and a haughty bearing. Mystacon advanced in a cringing

attitude, offering a valuable present, which she accepted, as he had

hoped, without stopping, ordering it to be put into one of the waggons.

As the royal train passed out of sight, the merchant gave orders to

continue the journey to Lyons, by way of Bibracte or Augustodunum

(Autun). The boys had seen the warriors, and the great lady in her

waggon. But they had been told nothing. If Porlor had known that it

was the Queen of the Franks, his rede would probably have been to rush

forward, tell her that Hereric was an Atheling of Deira, and claim her

protection. But they knew nothing, were kept behind, and were only

allowed to peep between the bales.

At Lyons the merchant embarked his goods in a large boat, went down

the Rhone to its mouth, and then sailed in a vessel from Massilia to

the mouth of the Tiber. Before embarking, the boys again had a long and

anxious talk over their position. Mystacon had told them lie after lie

about their destination, and they were in great perplexity. He said

that he had saved them from death at the hands of the sea-thieves, that

he was their saviour and benefactor, and that the journey was for their

good. They had thought of telling their captor that Hereric was an

Atheling, but on the whole it seemed to them that the knowledge might

increase the danger, if it existed, and that their wisest course was

to keep silence about themselves. They had enjoyed the journey through

France. The sight of a strange country and of many things that were new

to them had amused and interested them, and they now looked as bright

and fresh as on the morning when the Berserker rage so unfortunately

seized upon gentle Hereric, and led to such an unlooked-for

catastrophe. Their fate was now sealed. After their embarkation in the

boat on the river Rhone, it would not be many days before they would

enter the imperial city and become the victims of Mystacon's greed.

PART II

EXILE

Go forth, bright youths, nor any danger shun,

Go forth to brave whatever may betide;

Your country needs your knowledge hardly won,

Your heads to counsel and your hearts to guide.

But let fond memory turn again to home,

Come back enriched with stores of foreign lore,

Return to gladden hearts that long bemoan

Loved kinsmen's absence from their native shore.

CHAPTER I

FALLEN ROME

In the end of the sixth century the old Rome, the lingering remnant of

the imperial city, had nearly disappeared. Language, literature, art,

science were being crushed out, not so much by inroads of barbarians

as by the bigotry of bishops and monks. When the Goths, under Alaric,

entered Rome by the Salarian gate in 410 and revelled in pillage

for six days, they did little or no damage to buildings or works of

art. Half a century afterwards, when Genseric sacked the city for

fourteen days, he only carried off the gilt-bronze tiles on the roof

of the Capitoline temple of Jupiter and the spoils from the temple of

Jerusalem; and during the sack of Ricimer little injury was done to

buildings. Rome suffered more from Totila in 546 than from any former

sack, half the walls being destroyed and many houses being burnt.

Theodoric the Goth established his capital at Ravenna. He took steps

to protect the monuments of Rome, and his reign from 493 to 526 may

be considered to have been the period which saw the last of the true

Romans. Cassiodorus strove to preserve the rapidly failing taste for

the models of classical antiquity. Boethius, the last of the Romans

whom Cato or Cicero would have acknowledged as their countryman,

threw a flickering ray over the fallen empire. But both Boethius and

his learned friend Symmachus were murdered by Theodoric in 526. Long

before this the last joyous festivals of old Rome, the Lupercalia, had

been abolished through the bigotry of Pope Gelasius, and with them

disappeared all living vestiges of the old life. The buildings were

imperishable. The shell was there amidst dirt and desolation; the life

was gone. Monks pulled down or defaced the edifices and statues raised

by genius, and the beautiful temple of Apollo gave place to the cells

of Benedict on the summit of Monte Cassino.

Belisarius and Narses recovered Italy for the emperors of the East

in 536, and Justinian fixed the capital of his _exarch_ or governor

at Ravenna, not at Rome. But the walls of Rome were repaired, and

partially rebuilt. Only thirty years afterwards Alboin, with an

army of Lombards, conquered Northern Italy without encountering any

opposition, established an oppressive aristocracy in the subjugated

provinces, and extended his inroads to the gates of Rome. This was

the condition of affairs when Mystacon arrived at the mouth of the

Tiber with his merchandise. Maurice Tiberius, the best of the Eastern

emperors, had ascended the throne at Constantinople in 582. His exarch

Romanus ruled at Ravenna. Young Autharis had succeeded Alboin as king

of the Lombards in 586, and his armies kept Rome in perpetual fear. The

suburbs were constantly devastated. The city was vacant and solitary:

the depopulation had been rapid. Famine was frequent, the edifices were

exposed to ruin, and the chief person in the city was the Bishop, who

exulted over the desolation of idolatry. His name was Pelagius II.,

but the ecclesiastic who possessed the greatest influence over the

miserable remnant of the inhabitants was the Deacon Gregory. He was a

native of the city, born in 544, and his parents, Gordian and Sylvia,

were of senatorial rank. He was also wealthy, and he had founded a

monastery on the Caelian Hill, dedicated to St. Andrew. He was learned

in the Scriptures and in the works of the early fathers of the Church,

and was a voluminous writer both of letters and of commentaries. While

acting as the Pope's nuncio at Constantinople, he had occupied himself

in a violent controversy with the Eutychians on the question whether,

after the resurrection, the bodies of the faithful would be impalpable

like air, or palpable though subtle and sublimed. The former view

was the heresy which Gregory, with the important aid of the Emperor,

effectually suppressed. He then returned to Rome, and maintained his

influence by relieving distress through his great wealth and his

organising ability, and also by the power of his pathetic but rude

eloquence. But he was a narrow-minded bigot. He hated the monuments of

classic genius, destroyed the magnificent baths and theatres, and did

more harm to the buildings of Rome than all the barbarians, from Alaric

to Totila, put together. The decided progress made by the ancients

in astronomy and geography was declared to be contrary to scriptural

truth, sculpture was condemned as an ally of paganism, and both science

and art disappeared. The belief of Gregory that the end of the world

was close at hand also had a mischievous tendency. As a young man he

was often tormented with pains in the bowels, and was continually

suffering from low fever, and these ailments probably had their effect

on his temperament. His zeal for the spread of Christianity perhaps

atones for his shortcomings in other respects, and at all events

Gregory was the leading figure in the Rome of the end of the sixth

century.

The son of the Senator Gordian was not the only wealthy man in Rome,

or it would have been no place for Mystacon and his wares. Patricians,

with incomes from estates in Campania and Sicily, still lived in some

of the ruins of departed greatness on the Caelian Hill. We meet with

the names of Decius, Basilius, Olybrius, Orestes, Maximus, Symmachus,

and Pamphronius. But the sons and daughters of others were reduced to

penury, and many descendants of consuls and senators were begging their

bread in the streets.

Pamphronius was one of those who, by flight on some occasions and

prompt submission on others, had succeeded in preserving sufficient of

this world's goods to enable him to live in a partially-rebuilt villa,

and to show signs of comparative wealth. He had a few clients round

him, and was a customer of Mystacon.

Symmachus Boethius was another survivor of an ancient and renowned

family. His maternal ancestor had been a bright model of learning

and virtue in the days of Constantine and his immediate successors.

Scholar, statesman, and orator, he gave new life and vigour to the

literature of Rome, and he was zealous for the ancient faith. He

remonstrated with the Emperor Gratian on the removal of the altar of

victory from the Senate in 384. His letters are extant, and that in

favour of the altar of victory is, we are told, infinitely superior to

the verbose, abusive, and dishonest reply of St. Ambrose. Proconsul in

Achaia and Africa, he had great wealth, estates in Campania, Sicily,

and Mauritania, and a mansion on the Caelian Hill. His descendants for

four generations were all distinguished. The fifth in descent, named

Quintus Aurelius Memmius Symmachus, had an only daughter Rusticiana.

She was happily married to Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, whose

father was consul in 487. Boethius was famous for his learning and for

his charities. He was accused of a wish to free Rome from the Goths,

was condemned unheard, and put to death, with his son, by order of

Theodoric. His _Consolatio Philosophiæ_, written in prison, shows that

he was not a Christian. Rusticiana was reduced to poverty until her

property was restored by Theodoric's daughter Amalasontha. At the sack

of Rome in 541 she was again reduced to beggary, and was only saved

from death by the intervention of Totila.

Anicius Severinus Boethius, the son of the great Boethius and of

Rusticiana, was consul in 522, and died, soon after his mother, in

570. He had succeeded in recovering his Sicilian estates, and in

raising the fortunes of his family sufficiently to be able to reside

in the fine old mansion of the Symmachus family on the Caelian. His

son Symmachus Boethius continued to prosper, and, at the time of which

we speak, he was one of the few wealthy patricians of Rome. His wife

was a virtuous lady named Otacilia. His villa made some pretensions

to its ancient splendour, and its owner, now a man between fifty and

sixty, outwardly conformed to the Christian religion, as all who valued

their peace and safety were bound to do in those days. The religion of

Ambrose and of Gregory became a persecuting religion as soon as its

hierarchy had the power to persecute. In this and in other essentials

it differed widely from the religion of Christ. By ready conformity

the patricians Pamphronius and Symmachus Boethius maintained friendly

relations with the Deacon Gregory and his monks of St. Andrew, who

were their neighbours on the Caelian Hill. They were consulted on the

affairs of the city, especially on the absorbing questions relating

to food-supply, but all real power was in the hands of the Bishop

and clergy, whose preaching swayed the mob. Gregory was, indeed, a

remarkable personality. His character presented a singular mixture of

sense and superstition, pride and humility, simplicity and cunning; and

through all there was that touch of sympathy which secured the support

of the multitude, and that burning and impulsive zeal which seemed to

carry all before it, and which was mainly directed to the propagation

of his faith. His worst trait was his unprincipled time-serving. When

the good Emperor Maurice was murdered, whom he knew well, and from whom

he had received much kindness, he wrote a flattering letter to his

murderer Phocas, one of the most infamous wretches that ever disgraced

the purple, which is worded in a way that is simply revolting. It needs

much zeal to atone for such baseness.

These were the leaders of Rome, but not of living Rome. They were

like small crabs in a great dead shell. It is difficult to realise the

effect on the mind of any one then coming to Rome for the first time,

and gazing upon the superb baths and theatres, the splendid temples and

halls in long vistas, all desolate and abandoned, with here and there

a priceless work of art thrown down and broken. Everywhere silence and

desolation, except where some monk might be seen preaching to a squalid

group, or where half-starved crowds assembled at church doors for doles

of food. The population had dwindled from millions to thousands, and

clergy had taken the place of soldiery and well-to-do citizens of the

empire, but in much smaller numbers. Still there were a few wealthy

people, sufficient to induce traders to expose valuable goods for sale.

[Illustration: Mystacon Attacked by his Boy Captives]

Mystacon, when he arrived in his vessel, found the port of Ostia

quite empty, and there was ample space at his disposal in the long

row of dilapidated emporia facing the Tiber, at the foot of Mount

Aventine. Here his goods were warehoused until the day of the market,

which was then held in the beautiful Forum of Trajan. He now had to

disclose his real intention to the English boys. He had safely housed

them in a large room, with plenty of his own hirelings always more or

less on guard outside. He opened his communication by dwelling upon

his kindness and liberality, on having saved their lives when the

sea-thieves would have killed them, and on the gratitude they owed

him. At last the truth came out. He would be obliged to sell them in

the market, owing to the great expense they had been to him, and if a

sufficient sum could not be obtained, he would have to take them to

Ravenna or to Constantinople. He was unprepared for the outburst of

rage and fury with which his base scheme was received by the little

boys. They told him that Hereric was an atheling, and that all were the

sons of thegns, better born than any one in Rome. Their eyes flamed

with Berserker madness as they cried out that they would kill him as

they would kill a wild-cat or a badger, and Forthere actually flew at

his throat. The coward was taken by surprise. He cried out for help,

and could not collect his ideas and decide upon the course to take

until the lads were all tied hand and foot. He was in great perplexity.

A violent scene at the market was out of the question. His wish was

to flog them within an inch of their lives; but, as he had told his

deceased accomplices, damaged goods only fetch half-price. He must

display them with whole skins. At last he determined to starve them

into submission. He told them that they would have no food until they

consented to go quietly to the Forum, and left them with the door well

barred. For more than thirty-six hours they resolutely held out, but

the bigger boys could not bear to hear little Godric and Sivel crying

for food. They turned to Porlor for his counsel. None of them had been

more furious, none of them now felt a stronger desire to kill the

treacherous villain who had employed the kidnappers, as they now fully

believed. He said that the shame was almost more than they could bear,

but that it would at least be a great gain to be free from Mystacon. No

master could be worse, and when they were older and stronger they could

defy any master to detain them. "But the shame! the shame!" moaned

Coelred and Oswith, as they lay with their heads in their hands prone

to the ground. It had to be done. The next time Mystacon came, Porlor

told him to bring food, and that they would go without resistance. The

boys had few words and could not scold. But the villain was told that

they knew him as he was, far viler and baser than the sea-thieves, a

niddring and a liar, and that some day they would kill him. He sent

them plenty of food, and his sickly smile betokened malice not unmixed

with fear. His mind was, however, relieved: he would get his price.

"To be sold as slaves!" In all their thoughts of possible danger and

suffering, they had never anticipated anything so bad as this. They

called to mind the words that the sounds in the forest seemed to form

themselves into, and shuddered. But after hours of despondency the

brave little fellows took heart. Coelred was the leader who now urged

his companions to remember the words of the Princess. They talked long

and anxiously, but before they laid down their heads to sleep, they

had, with one accord, all raised their right hands and cried--"Come

what may, we will quit ourselves like men--above all, like Englishmen!"

CHAPTER II

IN BONDAGE AT ROME

The Forum of Trajan was as yet uninjured. The noble rows of

buildings with colonnades, including the once well-stored library,

still surrounded the large paved court, and in the centre stood the

beautiful column with its elaborate representation in bronze of the

events of the Dacian war. Here important markets were held, and on

one autumn morning of the year 588 several merchants, who had lately

arrived, exposed many things for sale. Abundance of people resorted

thither to buy. Mystacon had his wares arranged under a colonnade. He

invited attention in a cringing attitude, seeking for purchasers. The

English boys stood in a group quite naked, their eyes full of tears of

shame and rage. Among the first people who stopped in front of them

was a thin and emaciated ecclesiastic, accompanied by another, who

was younger and of stouter build. The older man had an aquiline nose

and hollow cheeks, bright piercing eyes, which had assumed a gentle

expression, and a somewhat commanding air. It was Gregory himself,

then aged forty-four, and his secretary Peter. Mystacon bowed low

before them. Gregory looked at the boys with admiration, and turning

to the merchant, he remarked that their bodies were white, their

countenances beautiful, and their hair very fine. Mystacon bowed still

lower. "From what country or nation were they brought?" he asked. The

reply was that they came from the island of Britain, whose inhabitants

are of that personal appearance. "Are these islanders Christians,

or are they still involved in the errors of Paganism?" was the next

inquiry. He was told that they were Pagans. Fetching a deep sigh, he

exclaimed--"Alas! what pity that the author of darkness is possessed

of men of such fair countenances, and that, being remarkable for such

graceful aspects, their minds should be void of inward grace. What,"

he demanded, "is the name of that nation?" The kidnapper replied that

they were called Angles. "Right," said Gregory, "for they have angelic

faces, and it becomes such to be co-heirs with the angels in heaven.

What is the name," he proceeded, "of the province from which they

are brought?" The reply was that the name of the province was Deira.

"Truly are they _De irâ_," said he, "withdrawn from wrath and called

to the mercy of Christ. How is the king of that province called?"

Mystacon said that his name was Ella; and Gregory, alluding to it as

he walked on, observed to Peter that Hallelujah, the praise of God the

Creator, must be sung in those parts. Gregory was on his way to have an

interview with the Pope, and on coming into his presence, he proposed

that ministers should be sent to the English, by whom they might be

converted to Christ; and, in his impulsive way, he declared that he

was ready to undertake that work himself, by the assistance of God.

Pelagius replied that he was willing to grant his request, but that the

people would never consent to his departure. Gregory then entrusted to

Peter the business of purchasing some of these "Angles," and sent him

back to the market.

The boys did not understand a word of the remarks made by Gregory and

by other passers-by who stopped to question Mystacon. Presently two

patricians, advanced in years, followed by clients and attendants,

walked into the Forum and stopped at the colonnade where the lads were

still exposed. After gazing upon them, Symmachus Boethius observed to

his companion Pamphronius that he had never seen such perfect symmetry

and beauty except in ancient sculpture. "The works of Praxiteles are

looked upon with disapproval by our good friends the priests, so I

would fain ornament my villa with living forms that would be worthy

of the chisel of the most gifted sculptor of antiquity." Pamphronius

expressed his concurrence, and his desire to possess at least two of

the young slaves. Calling Mystacon aside, they made various inquiries,

and concluded bargains by which Symmachus Boethius became the owner

of Coelred and Porlor, while Oswith and Sivel fell to Pamphronius.

Their clients were instructed to complete the arrangement and pay the

purchase-money, and the great men passed on. No sooner were they out

of sight, than Peter arrived breathless to carry out the instructions

of his master. Mystacon was delighted, for his troubles and anxieties

were fully repaid. Peter agreed to his terms, and the Atheling Hereric,

Forthere, and Godric became the property of the Deacon Gregory.

The boys were thus relieved from their shameful and degrading position,

which they had looked forward to with such horror and dismay. Their

clothes were restored to them, and they were told by signs to accompany

the servants of the patricians and Peter, the road of all being the

same, namely, that leading to the Caelian Hill. Casting looks of

vindictive hatred at Mystacon, they gladly accompanied their new

acquaintances.

Of all the seven hills of Rome, the Caelian was the most favoured by

the wealthier classes during the latter days of the empire, and their

villas were scattered over it, half-hidden by groves of cypress trees.

But the troublous times had wrought destruction, and most of them were

now in ruins. Facing the Palatine, where the imperial palace stood

desolate and abandoned, was the monastery of St. Andrew, the villas of

Symmachus and Pamphronius, and the deserted temple of Divus Claudius,

while just below ran the Appian Way. In rear stood the Sacellum Dianæ,

the arch of Dolabella, and the chapel containing little votive ships

of marble, reminding the boys of the votive boats in the tumulus of

Vidfinn at Bilbrough. The aqueduct of Nero entered Rome at the back

of the Caelian Hill, and was one of the few which still brought water

to the city; and to the south were the Lateran Palace and the famous

Asinarian Gate, by which Totila and his army entered in 546, through

the treachery of some Isaurian sentries.

The villa of Symmachus was the best and most perfect that remained

in the Rome of Gregory. The atrium and adjacent halls were of noble

proportions; there was a large garden in the rear, full of myrtles

and other shrubs; and beyond were the stables, near which Coelred and

Porlor were provided with a _cubiculum_ to themselves. Symmachus only

required the lads to attend him on certain occasions, and to perform

outdoor work, to which they felt no objection. He was a man of a kindly

and somewhat timid disposition, fond of a certain amount of display,

and with cultivated tastes. His amiable wife Otacilia was very kind to

the lads. They had liberty to wander over the city, and Porlor was full

of eager curiosity.

Pamphronius was less wealthy; his villa was of smaller proportions

and in a more ruinous condition, and he himself was a man of a more

exacting disposition, and with less natural kindliness than his

neighbour. Yet Oswith and little Sivel were well treated, and they were

very fortunate in the companionship of a son of one of the freedmen

of Pamphronius named Bassus, who was some years older than Oswith.

This youth was of mixed Roman and Gothic descent, tall for his age and

handsome, and well educated, being able to speak the Greek language,

as well as the debased Latin then talked at Rome, and having picked

up much of the ancient lore, in addition to what he had been taught

of Christianity. Bassus from the first conceived an ardent boyish

attachment for Oswith and a warm friendship for all the English lads,

and he continued to be a valued and faithful companion to the end of

their lives. He was destined to survive them all but one.

With their life in the monastery of St. Andrew the three others,

or at least two of them, were not so well pleased. The prior, named

Augustine, was a disciplinarian, inclined to be harsh and imperious

to those under him, and his humility was of that kind which is nearly

related to pride. Times had to be observed, rules must be respected;

yet the lads enjoyed a certain share of liberty. The gentle and

self-respecting Hereric fell more easily into the regular ways of

the monks. He considered it to be more dignified to obey, and he was

deeply interested in the new ideas and conceptions conveyed in the

little he could understand of the teaching of Peter, who was appointed

to instruct them before baptism. But Forthere hated the confinement

and the whole life, longing for the sports and adventures of the

forests to which he had been accustomed. Little Godric followed the

lead of Forthere, who was rebellious from the first. The monks found

it necessary to correct him before he had been an inmate more than a

few days, and they would have proceeded to more severe measures if he

had persisted in his disobedience. The loyal devotion of Forthere to

his companion as an atheling, and his sincere affection for Hereric

himself, were the motives which probably saved him. For Hereric's sake

he would submit when he would have been cut to pieces before he would

have obeyed a monk; and, in fact, the authorities ruled him through

the influence of the Atheling. The fierce young Englishman was a true

son of Brand of Ulfskelf, the mighty warrior and most loyal of all the

followers of King Ella. Like his father, young Forthere could brook no

tyranny, but, like his father, he would die for any atheling of the

house of Deira.

A monk named Laurentius was appointed to instruct the four boys

outside the monastery. They understood very little that he told them,

and that through the help of Bassus, for as yet they could only

exchange thoughts by means of a few signs and words established between

themselves and their new friend. Nevertheless, Gregory caused all the

seven English lads to be baptized without further delay, deciding that

the instruction of Peter and Laurentius had been sufficient. In a

very few months Bassus taught them the language then in use at Rome,

a dialect of Latin in process of conversion into Italian, and they

were able to understand all that was said to them, as well as to hold

conversations. He then began to teach them Greek, the language of the

imperial court and of commerce, and the boys in the villas of the two

patricians worked hard to acquire it, Bassus having impressed upon them

that it alone would enable them to comprehend fully the many strange

things they would see and hear, and would give them the knowledge which

was power.

Coelred, Oswith, and Porlor, with Bassus as their guide, had

wandered through the almost deserted streets of Rome, and gazed

with wonder and admiration on the magnificent edifices, which were

then neglected and dilapidated, but not actually in ruins. They had

especially examined the fine temple to the Sun erected by the Emperor

Aurelian on the Quirinal, and while they rested under its ornate

portico, Bassus had explained the true import of Mithras stabbing

the bull. This opened a whole world of imaginative speculation in

the mind of Porlor, who had never forgotten his wonder at the sight

of the bas-relief in the cave at York. On another day they crossed

the Tiber and visited Constantine's basilica dedicated to St. Peter,

which presented a sorry appearance when compared with the monuments

of antiquity. The sides were of plain unplastered brick, with arched

openings for windows, and in front there were figures and emblems

painted in fresco, in a very debased style of art. Even a child must

have been impressed with the superiority of the ancient edifices. The

English boys called to mind the impression they had received from

beholding the ruins of Roman temples at York; and how it had been borne

in upon their minds that a mighty empire had passed away, and that it

was for their countrymen to build something greater on its ruins. These

ideas now recurred to them with immeasurably greater force as they sat

together under the portico of the desecrated temple of Jupiter on the

Capitol, and commanded a view of the graceful temples round the Forum,

of the palace rising above them on the Palatine, and of the long vista

of edifices terminating with the Colosseum. The warm sun and deep blue

sky gave a brilliance to the scene, which contrasted with the signs of

decay that could be detected by the eye, in places where broken statues

and pavements and heaps of fallen tiles denoted the desolation of the

present time. Bassus told them how the Forum used to be crowded with

citizens, he showed them the place whence great senators and orators

used to make speeches to the people, and he described the processions

of the lupercalia and of the milites. All had passed away. Their young

thoughts were not depressed. They reflected on what was to follow, on

another great people arising to replace the dead Roman Empire. But

they did not think that it was to be found here among the monks and

the debased rabble of Gregory's Rome. Their aspirations turned to the

North, to the homes of Deira, and to the stalwart English, irresistible

in war and open to new ideas and fresh knowledge. It was becoming

something more than a dream amongst them, that it was ordained that

they should bring back to their kindred these new ideas and this fresh

knowledge. They would diligently learn all that could be useful to

their people in the lands of the ancient civilisation, until they were

old enough to wear swords and take their places as men in the battle

array; and then they would return, if need be fighting their way home.

This was the result of many discussions and conversations, held among

the cypress groves of the Caelian Hill, after exploring excursions

through the desolate city.

The boys from the two villas usually took their morning bath in a

tank near the _navicula_, which was shaded by trees and supplied with

water from Nero's aqueduct. Here, too, the Atheling, with their cousin

Forthere and little Godric, often joined them, and they talked over

their prospects, and discussed all the wondrous things they had seen

and heard. The Christian religion had been more clearly explained to

them when they acquired the use of the language then talked at Rome.

They understood that the Son of God had died for all mankind, and

that He had risen from the dead. They knew that they must pray to Him

for guidance and to keep them from sin, and they all did so. But they

thought that the teaching of Laurentius and Peter was the same as the

far more impressive and beautiful teaching of the Princess Alca. In

their conception Christ was another name for Balder. But they kept

these opinions to themselves, and gave the name of Christ to the Son of

God they worshipped.

Often taking counsel together, they formed a small _Gemót_, as they

called it, of seven little boys, with the world of Rome against them,

all except Bassus, whom they had made one of themselves. Hereric

invented a watchword to warn them of the approach of strangers who

might disturb their meetings in the cool cypress groves. It consisted

of the two words _Bylr_, a tempest, and _Grima_, a thing helmeted or

veiled. The meaning was that the unknown or veiled one might betoken a

storm for them. For they conversed respecting all the affairs of Rome,

speculated on the hidden meanings of all they heard, and talked over

the time for rising against their oppressors and fighting their way

home. There were two or three people whom Forthere intended to kill

first, including Mystacon.

So time passed on, and after two years Gregory succeeded to the

Pontificate. He had not forgotten his project of sending a mission

to the Angles, and was mindful of the advantage of having youthful

interpreters ready on the Caelian. But for a long time the miserable

condition of Rome absorbed his attention. The state of affairs had

become perilous. The corn ships failed to arrive time after time,

and these failures caused misery among the people. It was a common

occurrence to see crowds clamouring for food at the doors of St.

Peter's and at the Lateran. A total cessation of the Egyptian corn

trade was threatened, while the supply from Sicily was becoming more

and more precarious. Even greater danger threatened Rome from the

north. The Lombards made constant incursions, riding over the Campagna,

devastating the suburbs, and insulting the sentries guarding the gates

of the city.

Pope Gregory appealed to the exarch at Ravenna for help, but that

official was unable to do more than maintain his own position, which

was also threatened. There were frequent consultations between the Pope

and his clerical advisers and the leading patricians. The outlook was

most serious. At last it was determined that an embassy should be sent

to Constantinople to represent to the Emperor Maurice the absolute

necessity for making efficient arrangements to supply Rome with

corn, and to entreat him to send an army to drive back the Lombards

and put a stop to their incessant inroads, which were desolating

Southern Italy. Symmachus Boethius and Pamphronius were requested to

be the ambassadors, and after some pressure from the Pope they rather

unwillingly consented, for it would be an expensive and probably a

thankless service. They resolved to take several attendants, including

the four English boys and young Bassus.

This startling and important news came as a great surprise to the

little society. As yet they had never been separated. Oswith consulted

Bassus, and told him that they must bind each other always to be

steadfast friends, in the most solemn manner possible. Their compact

must include a firm resolution that when they returned home none should

be left behind. He asked Bassus how this could be done with the most

binding solemnity. "It must be an oath to God," advised his friend,

"which in the Hebrew tongue is Lilla. The most solemn thing that you

can do," added Bassus, "is to change your name from Oswith to Lilla, as

a memorial and a testimony. This will make the deepest impression on

the rest."

For the last time before the separation all the boys assembled

under the shady trees by the tank of the _navicula_. Much sorrow

was expressed at parting, but all anticipated wonderful things, and

probably much good, from the visit to Constantinople. They all took

the oath of constant friendship, and that no one should be left behind

when they fought their way home. "It is the oath of God," said Oswith,

"and to impress it on our hearts, from henceforth my name shall be

Lilla." "We declare," they all answered, "that we will call you Lilla

for evermore as a testimony of our compact." They embraced each other.

Little Sivel parted from his adopted brother Forthere with bitter

tears. All took tender farewells of Hereric the Atheling, whom they

fondly loved, of Forthere, and of Godric. It was a sad parting, but

they looked forward to meeting again at the same place.

A few days afterwards the two patricians embarked at Brundusium for

Constantinople, accompanied by Lilla, Coelred, Porlor, Sivel, Bassus,

and other attendants.

CHAPTER III

THE GLORIES OF THE EAST

At Rome everything reminded a visitor of past greatness.

Constantinople, on the other hand, was the new Rome, the grandest

and most magnificent city in the world. For nearly three centuries

the revenues of the empire had been lavished upon her edifices, all

the treasures of art had been brought from far and near to adorn her

palaces and theatres, and her churches were decorated with marble and

gold and every precious material the earth could yield. Her unrivalled

position on the shores of the Propontis, her harbour of Chrysoceras (or

the "Golden Horn"), and the beautiful wooded shores of the Bosphorus

surrounded her with every charm and every luxury, and combined to make

the city of Constantinople the most splendid capital ever raised by

genius commanding unlimited resources.

After their arrival the Roman patricians had to wait some days for

an audience with the Emperor. They had visited the capital before,

but no one could ever tire of gazing on that unequalled architectural

display. Boethius and Pamphronius walked through the city followed by

their attendants; and the English boys, confused at the magnificence

around them, were half dazed with wonder and admiration. They stood in

the elliptically-shaped forum of Constantine, with triumphal arches at

the two opposite entrances, and colonnades all round, filled with the

statues of the gods, with shrines dedicated to Cybele and to Fortune,

and a lofty pillar in the centre. This specially attracted their

attention. It was 120 feet high, of marble and porphyry, surmounted by

a statue of the Emperor Theodosius. Next they were taken to another

forum, which was square and also surrounded by porticoes, with an

elevated arcade adorned with statues, and the golden miliarium in

the centre. The Hippodrome also filled them with astonishment, 300

paces long, and the space between the two goals filled with statues

and obelisks. They saw the wreathed column of bronze which bore the

golden tripod of Delphi, and the Emperor's throne, with the winding

staircase called _Cochlea_ descending to the palace. They encountered

palaces, churches, and baths at every turn; and were taken to see the

underground cistern, or rather lake, with an arched roof supported on

336 marble pillars. Even more surprising to them were the baths of

Zeuxippus, the most beautiful in the world, adorned with the greatest

triumphs of Grecian art, the Muses of Helicon, the Athene of Lyndus,

and the Amphitrite of Rhodes. It all seemed like a gorgeous dream which

might suddenly melt away. When their eyes met, their looks told each

other of their amazement, but they were too much astonished to express

themselves in words. It was, however, the life and movement which

made these scenes so striking and so vivid. Horsemen, foot passengers

hurrying to and fro, troops marching, bright colours everywhere in

motion, gave animation and interest to the marvellous buildings, so

different from poor deserted Rome. They strolled on to the Golden

Gate, and back to the Augusteum, where a colossal equestrian statue of

Justinian in an attitude of defiance absorbed their attention for a few

moments, and then their eyes glanced beyond it to the crowning glory of

his architectural work.

They had scarcely room for more wonder when they came before the

great church dedicated to Divine Wisdom. Yet the interior, as they

entered, almost took their breath away. St. Sophia had been restored

and rededicated by Justinian about a quarter of a century before, in

563. The beautiful columns of green marble from Ephesus, of porphyry

from Aurelian's Sun Temple at Rome, the ornaments and figures in

carved stone, the decorations in gold and marbles of the most precious

kinds, the walls encrusted with mosaics, the richly-carved capitals,

and the exquisite proportions of the aerial dome, all combined to form

the most perfect and beautiful church that had ever been erected. The

gorgeous services, with long processions of richly-dressed priests and

their attendants, solemn music and singing, and the delicious scent of

incense, completed their wonder and awe. The boys remained in a sort of

dream of astonishment for several days, until the time arrived for the

audience. The patricians were richly dressed, and their attendants, in

suitably handsome attire, were to accompany them to the palace.

The Emperor Maurice Tiberius had ascended the throne in the year

582. Descended from an ancient Roman family settled in Asia Minor,

he was born at Arabissus in Cappadocia, spent his youth at the court

of Justin II., and afterwards served with distinction in the Persian

war. His accession was due to the best of all reasons, his loyalty to

his predecessor Tiberius Augustus, whose daughter he married. Maurice

was forty-three years of age when he became emperor, and he was an

excellent ruler, promoting the happiness of his people with sense and

courage. He was a rigid economist, and his demeanour was cold and

reserved. Soon after his accession another war with Persia broke out,

and when the embassy came from Rome, the general Heraclius had just

returned from Mesopotamia after gaining a great victory.

Rigid etiquette and a display of pomp and magnificence at court

ceremonials had been introduced by Diocletian and had been increased

by successive emperors. The palace was a vast building on the shores

of the Propontis between the Hippodrome and the church of St. Sophia.

When the embassy from Rome arrived at the appointed time it was met

by the Master of the Offices and his attendants, and the patricians,

being of consular rank, were accosted with the title of "illustrious."

After an interval they were ushered into the presence. The Emperor was

in the great audience-hall called _Chalce_ (from its brazen doors),

which consisted of a dome supported by massy pillars, walls encrusted

with mosaics representing African and Italian triumphs, and a pavement

of many-coloured marbles. The imperial throne was surrounded by the

great officers of state, and by favoured courtiers, all gorgeously

dressed. There stood the Praepositus or Prefect of the Bedchamber with

attendant Counts, the Quaestor or Chancellor, the Count of the Sacred

Largesses, the Count of the Privy Purse, the Commanders of the Guards,

the victorious generals Heraclius, Comentiolus, Narses, and Priscus,

and several bishops. There also were Athanagild, a tall and handsome

young Gothic Prince, the philosopher Metrodorus, the famous physician

Alexander, the lawyer-poet Agathias, and many others.

There were numerous presentations, and when the turn of Boethius and

Pamphronius came, those illustrious patricians made low obeisance, and

stated the case set forth in their instructions from the Holy Father

Gregory, touching the sore need of prompt assistance in which the city

of the seven hills then stood. They were told that they would receive

their answer on a future day. Many eyes were turned on the handsome

youths, whose good looks were enhanced by their rich and well-fitting

clothes, and the patricians soon had reason to regret that they had

taken those means of increasing their own importance by the brilliance

of their suite. In leaving the palace the boys made way for Priscus

the general, and they were struck by the revolting appearance of the

soldier who held his horse. He was a short man with red hair and shaggy

eyebrows, and his face was disfigured by a great scar. He looked a

savage and malicious barbarian; yet this man was Phocas, the successor

of Maurice as Emperor of the East! whose monument, a tall column with

an inscription, is still standing in the Forum at Rome.

During the following days the patricians received many visits. Narses,

then one of the most trusted of the Emperor's generals, paid his

respects, and took special notice of Lilla and Bassus. Stephanos, the

Count of the Sacred Largesses, also came, and was very much attracted

by the intelligent appearance of little Sivel. The Gothic Prince

Athanagild was another visitor. He was a young scion of the royal

house of Spain, who had taken refuge at the court of Maurice from the

persecution of King Recared. Athanagild was also a grandson, through

his mother, of Queen Brunehaud of Austrasia. During his exile he had

formed a friendship with the physician Alexander, through whom he had

heard of the Indian voyages of Cosmas. Fond of adventure, he was now

keen to follow in the course of the old navigator, and was looking out

for trusty followers. His eyes fell upon Coelred and Porlor, and he at

once conceived a strong desire to secure their services.

It was too late for the patricians to regret their imprudence in

displaying their precious human property so openly; and just at this

time Symmachus Boethius fell dangerously ill. The physician Alexander

attended him, but his charms and amulets were of no avail. A few days

after the death of his colleague, Pamphronius was summoned to receive

his answer, and he was served with an order, through the Count of the

Domestics, to bring the five youths with him who had been in the suite

of the embassy at the former reception. The Emperor gave him audience

at the lovely summer residence of Heroeum, a villa with gardens

extending down to the sea, on the Asiatic side of the Propontis, near

Chalcedon. Maurice was not encouraging. He said that he had ordered

some ships laden with grain to be sent to the Tiber; but that he could

give no military aid, owing to the disturbed state of affairs in

Persia. The Emperor, indeed, told Pamphronius that he was himself on

his way to Antioch with all the forces he could collect. His advice was

that King Childebert of Austrasia should be bribed to invade Northern

Italy and give employment to the Lombards. He also promised to instruct

the Exarch of Ravenna to co-operate with Childebert.

Pamphronius then had to take his leave; but before he embarked to

return to the city he was informed by the Praepositus that the five

youths were required for the public service, and would be detained at

Heroeum. He protested strongly, but was merely told that he could, if

he chose, recover them by process of law when their services were no

longer under requisition by the State. Pamphronius returned to Rome

with little but good advice as the result of his embassy, having lost

his colleague by death, and his two slaves, for whom he had paid high

prices to Mystacon, by an arbitrary act which, from his point of view,

amounted to plunder. He felt very indignant.

Great preparations were, in fact, being made for a Mesopotamian

campaign, rendered probable by the disturbances in Persia. The army was

already on the march to Antioch by way of the Cilician Gates. Ships

were assembled at Chalcedon and other ports, and the Emperor Maurice

himself, with some of his principal officers and generals, was about to

embark for the coast of Syria.

The boys had been lodged, with the attendants of the Emperor's

household, in buildings near the gardens of Heroeum. They were able,

thanks to their friend Bassus, to converse in Greek, and to understand

what had taken place. They welcomed the chances that were now opening

to them of taking part in some warlike adventure, and of emulating the

deeds of their Viking ancestors, before again returning to Rome. Next

day Lilla and Bassus were appointed to posts in the army, as pages

in attendance on Narses. Little Sivel was taken into the household

of the Treasurer Stephanos, who intended to employ the quick-witted

and intelligent boy in one of the State departments under his charge,

probably in the mint at Antioch.

Athanagild was of an enterprising and roving disposition, and on the

death of his father Hermenegild at Toledo in 586, his uncle Recared

succeeded, and he fled to the court of his grandmother at Metz. But a

violent quarrel with his uncle Childebert led to his banishment, and

he found safety with the Emperor Maurice. Having been nursed through

an illness by the physician Alexander, a close friendship was formed

between them, and he thus heard of the voyages to India by the aged

monk Cosmas, who was intimate with the physician. He had also been

told of the great military exploits of Gollas, King of the White Huns,

in those parts, and he resolved to find his way to that distant and

unknown land, and to offer his sword to the conqueror. He had vague

dreams of sovereignty and dominion for himself. His great object now

was to find a pilot and a trusty crew to take him to India by the route

of Cosmas. Alexander gave him friendly help and advice, and obtained

for him a pilot in the shape of Monas, an old companion of Cosmas, who

would find a vessel if supplied with funds. The Gothic Prince was now

looking for two or three followers who would work under Monas, and whom

he could thoroughly trust. He had taken a fancy for Coelred and Porlor

at first sight. He admired their stalwart young limbs, and their faces

with an expression open as the day, where no lie could find a place. He

felt sure that, if once gained over, they would be loyal and true.

Athanagild was a tall, handsome young man, with a winning manner, and

when he told the boys that he was a Geata, whose deeds they had heard

of in the song of Beowulf, he won their hearts. They remembered how

often Coifi had sung of the Geatas and their exploits; and as they

thought of the old hall at home, where the gleeman was wont to recite

his tales, their eyes filled with tears. They were walking with the

Prince in the beautiful gardens of Heroeum near the sea-shore, as he

explained his plans to them. There was much that was wonderful, much

that they could not understand. But they saw that it was an exploit

worthy of the Vikings, and they joyfully consented to take part in it,

on the understanding that they were to return with Monas. The two boys

were handed over to the Gothic Prince with the sanction of the Prefect

of the Imperial Bedchamber.

In less than a month the Emperor and his court were at Antioch, with

a powerful and efficient army encamped outside the town. Coelred and

Lilla agreed together that, if they returned from their expeditions,

they would wait for each other at Antioch before starting for Rome.

Sivel was already employed in the mint, receiving practical instruction

in the art of coining the debased money which bore the name and effigy

of Maurice, and they thought that they could safely calculate on his

being still there when they returned.

One evening the boys were sitting together under the shade of some

date-palms outside the city gate, discussing all the wondrous sights

they had beheld, and their new experiences, when a great cloud of

dust was seen on the road. Soon afterwards a brilliant cavalcade

came in sight. It literally glittered under the rays of the setting

sun, seeming to be one sparkling mass of bright weapons and gorgeous

dresses. At its head rode a man in a long robe of cloth-of-gold, with

flowing locks, and a huge globe of some light wicker-work gilded,

surmounting his silver-gilt helmet. After a short parley he was

admitted with his followers, and conducted to quarters near the palace.

It was Khosro Parviz, the King of Persia, who had been driven from his

dominions, and came to seek aid from the Emperor.

The reception of this King of Kings by Maurice was magnificent; and he

consented to employ his army for the restoration of Khosro. For several

days active preparations were being made, and then there was a second

separation of the English boys. As the army began its march under the

command of Narses, Coelred, Porlor, and Sivel bade an affectionate

farewell to Lilla and Bassus, who were well mounted and followed in the

general's train.

Next day Athanagild took leave of the Emperor Maurice, and made sail

for Alexandria with his young English followers, and half a dozen

Gothic soldiers who had been the loyal and attached followers of his

father. They were to travel from Alexandria to Myos Hormos on the Red

Sea, where Monas had promised to meet them with a vessel prepared for

the long voyage. When the Prince fled from Toledo, he had taken with

him a large amount of gold and jewels sewn up in belts, which he had

carefully kept by causing his servants to wear them, and which would

now enable him to equip his expedition. He and his young friends were

in high spirits when the long line of white buildings, the tall Pharos

rising above them, and the rows of palm trees announced that Alexandria

was in sight.

CHAPTER IV

A SON OF ALARIC

The sun was pouring down its dazzling rays on rocks and sand, and on

the expanse of intensely blue sea. There was nothing to relieve the eye

except a line of white huts, and at some distance a grove of date-palms

surrounding a well. One small vessel was at anchor. This was Myos

Hormos on the Red Sea. Coelred and Porlor reclined in a shed roofed

with palm leaves, near the well, while Athanagild and the Goths, drowsy

with the heat, were lying about under the trees. Mounted on camels, and

guided by a servant of Monas, they had crossed the desert during the

nights, and had arrived on the seventh day at dawn. They now waited

for the coming of Monas from the town. The boys were much changed in

appearance. Their faces were bronzed by the sun, their hair close cut,

and large white turbans were wound round their heads. They were dressed

in white, and were armed with swords, daggers, and spears. A chatty of

fresh water and a little heap of parched corn on a cloth were between

them.

Coelred's eyes were closed. He opened them drowsily and said, "With

my eyes shut, and the sun making the darkness almost light, I fancy

that I am lying on the grass, by the brook at Stillingfleet, and

almost hear the voices of Bergliot and Braga, and the barking of dear

old Shuprak at the top of the hill." Porlor looked at his brother,

whose eyes were filling with tears, and lovingly stroked his cheek.

"My thoughts and dreams are ever with our loved ones, like yours,

dear Coelred. But we must keep wide awake for the next few days," and

he shook his brother by the shoulder. "We have seen enough of our

companions to make that quite clear." In a very low voice Coelred said,

"What think you of Athanagild?" "The Gothic Prince," replied Porlor, in

a whisper, "is a brave and true warrior, and will keep his word with

us, I am sure. But he is not gifted with patience or judgment, and he

has embarked on an enterprise which requires both. He acts on sudden

impulses, strikes before hearing a word, and his Goths follow and obey

blindly. There is much to arrange now that needs forethought and care,

and I feel that, although we are so many years younger, the success of

this voyage will depend upon our conduct, and upon the character of

the captain and pilot of whom we know nothing. In truth we have had

several affrays since we landed in Egypt, and have escaped death or

imprisonment mainly by good fortune, and all have been due to the quick

temper of our chief." "We cannot always guide our own thoughts and

actions," mused Coelred, "how much less those of our companions. So we

must often leave all to chance; yet there are those who take all these

things into account, weigh them, and give each its just value, and who

can then offer sage counsel; and you are one, my Porlor." "I do try

hard to think out the points on which our lives and fortunes depend,"

said the younger boy; "and truly I do so because one who is dearer to

me than my own life shares my fate." They both sat up and wound their

arms round each other in a brotherly embrace. As they did so they

became aware of people approaching the palm grove, whose figures stood

out clear against the sky. The party consisted of an erect old man with

a white beard, and some black servants. "If I mistake not, this is the

pilot and guide of whom we know nothing, and concerning whom it imports

us much to know a great deal," said Porlor. At the same moment Coelred

cried out--"Prince Athanagild, a visitor approaches."

[Illustration: Coelred and Porlor in Egypt]

The Prince and his Goths sprang to their feet as the old man came

under the shade of the trees and made a low obeisance. He introduced

himself as the pilot and master who had undertaken to supply the

vessel, load her with a suitable cargo, and convey the Prince to India.

Funds had been duly received through the Imperial physician Alexander,

and such merchandise had been purchased as there would be a demand for

at the Indian port, and had been conveyed across the desert. The vessel

was built at Adulis, and was owned by Monas. "Good," said the Prince;

"we will sail to-day." "That cannot be," objected the old man, "for the

ship is not ready and the cargo is not on board." "How long will be the

delay?" "A week at least," was the answer, "and I have a long report to

make." "I cannot rest here, and I cannot listen, old man. I must be at

work. Action, not words, for me. I and my followers will hunt out these

Arabs of the desert of whom I hear, and try their mettle while you make

the ship ready." Monas protested, and explained the extreme danger of

such a proceeding. "In ordinary times," he said, "there is nothing to

plunder at Myos Hormos. But if the news gets abroad that a ship is

loading or unloading, then indeed are the vultures gathered together.

Clouds of Arabs cover the sands, and pounce down if the merchants have

not sufficient force to resist them. I believe that our secret is well

kept, yet the sight of you and your followers careering over the desert

will at once bring the marauders about our ears." But the Prince would

not listen to reason. He caused his led horses to be saddled, and his

camels to be loaded with food and water, and set out with his Goths

in the afternoon in search of adventures. His last words to Monas

were--"These Counts" (_Comites_), pointing to Coelred and Porlor, "are

my lieutenants, and will act for me. Their wishes are my wishes, their

orders my orders." So saying, this knight-errant rode away.

Monas held up his hands with astonishment at such madness. He turned

round to look at the lieutenants, and saw a boy of fifteen and another

of thirteen; well grown and intelligent, no doubt, and one struck him

as possessing sagacity above his years, but both very young. "Counts!"

he said aloud; but to himself, "Lieutenants! The Holy Saints protect

us!" and he again held up his hands, with a half-despairing gesture.

This conversation had been carried on in Greek. The boys came forward,

and Porlor requested the old man to make his report, and enable them to

enter upon the duties with which their friend Athanagild had entrusted

them. They did this with such a quiet assumption of command, and with

such combined dignity and courtesy, that Monas almost ceased to feel

the incongruity of such very juvenile Counts taking the command of the

enterprise, and at once entered upon his explanations and reports, with

which he had come for submission to Athanagild.

Monas, in early life, had been a companion of the better-known

merchant and monk Cosmas in his daring voyages. A native of Egypt, of

Greek descent, his quick wit and readiness of resource had enabled him

to establish commercial intercourse between ports of the Red Sea and

of the west coast of India, after his master Cosmas had retired into

monkish seclusion. He had acted as interpreter, when quite a young

man, to the Indian embassy which brought a present of an elephant to

the Emperor Justinian in 552, and he had since made several voyages

to India. When the imperial physician applied to his ancient friend

Cosmas, on the subject of the wish of the Gothic Prince to make a

voyage to India, and forwarded a supply of money, the matter was placed

in the hands of Monas. For Cosmas had quite retired from worldly

concerns, though the famous geographer still survived, in a cell

situated in a secluded oasis near Myos Hormos. Although the disciple

was also contemplating a retirement to a monastic cell in imitation of

his master, he consented to undertake one more voyage. He owned more

than one vessel at Adulis, and the most seaworthy was brought up to

Myos Hormos, while the articles well known to Monas as finding a ready

sale in the Indian ports were purchased in the markets of Alexandria,

sent up the Nile to Thebes, and conveyed across the desert with as

little delay as possible, in the hope that the Arab marauders would not

hear that a ship was being loaded at the deserted port of Myos Hormos.

When Coelred and Porlor walked down to the beach, they found the ruins

of a considerable town, and three or four sheds consisting of stone

walls with roofs of palm leaves. The small cargo was stored in them,

and the crew of tall blacks was loading a boat with bales. The boys,

accompanied by Monas, went on board the vessel with the first load, and

found her to be a craft the like of which they had never before seen.

She had a half-deck and a small cabin. Her build was like that of the

_pathamars_ on the Malabar coast, the planks being neatly secured to

each other with knotted ropes, and she had two masts with lateen sails.

Water was stored in large chatties carefully lashed to the ship's side,

and the food, all bread and vegetables, was in sacks. The boys inquired

whether there was any danger of an attack from Arabs, and Monas said

that he hoped the wild young Prince would return the next evening at

latest, in which case he was not likely to have encountered Arabs, and

the risk would be averted.

Monas further said that it was necessary that the young Counts, as he

called the boys, should visit the great navigator and geographer in

his seclusion; and it was agreed that they should travel during the

night. A short refreshing sleep was followed by a bathe in the sea

when the sun set. Coelred, Porlor, and Monas then mounted their camels

and proceeded over the desert in a south-westerly direction. After

travelling for several hours, at dawn they came to a small grove of

date-palms, where a stone cell of some size had been built, with a few

sheds round it. This was the place to which Cosmas had retired to end

his days.

On entering the grove, the visitors found a man in extreme old age,

seated outside his cell almost in a state of coma. He had a long white

beard, and must have been upwards of ninety years old. When Monas told

him that his visitors were the adventurers who wished to undertake a

voyage to India, he aroused himself. "They must consult me first," he

said in a feeble but clear voice. "They must rest here and listen to

what I can tell them. I am Cosmas," he continued, addressing the boys,

"and my title is _Indicopleustes_, for I sailed to India. Give them

food, and let them sit and listen to my words." Dates were set before

them by a servant, and the garrulous old man continued to relate the

story of his life. "I have been, in the years long gone by, a merchant

who navigated the Erythraean Sea, and reached the distant ports of

India. I knew the seasons, and taught Monas when the winds blew which

would take us to India, and when he must spread his sails to return.

It is said that Hippalus, in the days of Claudius the Emperor, first

discovered the constancy of the winds in their seasons. It is true. But

the credit is mine of making this knowledge useful to the world. Now

the rich products of India are sold in markets within the dominions of

our Emperor. This is due to me. I know all the emporia and how to reach

them. I was impelled by the desire of knowledge more than by gain,

though there was gain. I discovered the royal seat of white marble

at Adulis. It is consecrated to Ares. There are images of Heracles

and Hermes sculptured on it, and Greek letters are written on every

side. Monas helped me to copy the inscription, which was caused to be

put there by the great King Ptolemy Euergetes. It is all in my second

book. You have read my great work?" he asked. The boys answered that

they could not read. "You must learn," he went on. "It is necessary

that you should read my great work. It is in twelve books, and is

entitled _Christian Topography_. When my career was finished as a

merchant going to and fro, I devoted myself to God and became a monk.

Then I wrote my great book. In it I have confuted Ptolemy and all the

Pagans. I have proved that the earth is a flat surface. It is an oblong

plain twice as long from east to west as from north to south, and the

holy city of Jerusalem is in the centre. The whole is enclosed by an

ocean. I have proved it by arguments from Scripture, from the Fathers,

from testimony, and from reason. There are many copies of my great

work in the monasteries, in libraries, and in palaces. The Pagans are

confuted." Porlor said that he would be glad if the holy monk would

tell them about the voyage to India. "I am waiting for God to call me

to begin a longer voyage," was the answer. "Monas knows all. I taught

him." Cosmas had tired himself, and began to doze. The old man was not

long for this world. He had done his work, which was to throw back

science for centuries. The interview with old Cosmas Indicopleustes

then came to an end, and the boys took their leave. They reached Myos

Hormos a little after sunset, and were disappointed to hear that there

was no news of Athanagild.

During the next few days the loading continued, but there was no sign

of the Prince. At last he appeared alone, and wounded. He had had

his wish. He had come upon a large party of Arabs near a well in the

desert, and at once attacked them. All his Goths were killed, and he

received a spear-thrust, but the Arabs had not known the extent of the

losses they had inflicted, and retreated under cover of the night. He

thought, however, that he had been followed by one or two horsemen,

perhaps more, and he knew not whither he was going, but his horse had

brought him back to the port. He was faint from loss of blood. Monas

declared that they would be attacked before morning, and he took the

Prince on board the vessel to examine his wound.

Coelred and Porlor, after a consultation, made the black sailors

build a sort of sconce or small fort with some of the remaining bales

and other materials, with an angle pointing landwards, and the two

ends resting on the sea when it was high tide. They also dug a trench

outside in the sand, into which the water flowed. The remaining

merchandise was brought inside this extemporary intrenchment, and the

loading proceeded through the night. It was calm and the moon was up.

A little before dawn Coelred, who was on the watch, thought he saw

dark figures cautiously creeping round the huts. The boat happened to

be alongside the vessel, and there were only a few men and Porlor on

shore. Coelred aroused them, and they all stood to their arms, when a

sudden rush was made by a number of Arabs. The two boys stood side by

side at the angle, with the sailors supporting them. Luckily it was

high tide. There was a desperate struggle for the fort. The foremost

assailants were hurled back by the young Englishmen with their spears.

The brothers then drew their swords and began an unequal fight,

supported by their men, who behaved well. More of the enemy came to

the attack from behind the huts, and began to scale the enclosure. All

would have been lost if, at that moment, the boat had not touched the

sand. The boys retreated fighting, and were seized by their own people

as the boat was shoved off. The marauders secured a small portion of

the cargo, with the loss of several of their number. Two of the crew

were also killed. As soon as Coelred and Porlor were on board, Monas

weighed and made sail before a light northerly breeze.

The Prince's wound proved to be mortal. The loss of blood had been

great, there was much exhaustion, and inflammation set in. The boys

nursed him tenderly. On the third day he felt that his end was near.

Porlor was supporting him, while Coelred held a cool bandage on his

forehead. Monas had some skill, but the case was beyond human aid. He

stood looking down on the little scene, amazed at the madness which

had led to such consequences. "Farewell, my friends," said the Prince;

"my folly nearly ended your lives as well as my own. You have become

dear to me. I hoped that you would have been my companions in arms, and

that we might have carved out an empire together. I saw that you were

true and brave, worthy to be the comrades of one who is of the blood

of Alaric." He paused, and his voice became weaker. He finished what

he wished to say with difficulty. "I was driven from my country. Like

you, I desired to return. One pleasure is left me. I can give you the

means of going home." He looked at Coelred, whose cool hand, damped

with water from a chatty, was on his forehead. "Take off my belt," he

said. The boy hesitated. "Take it. I would see it round your waist."

Coelred gently unfastened the embroidered leathern belt, which was

heavy, and did with it as the dying man had told him. Athanagild smiled

as if contented. "Old man," he said, with difficulty turning to Monas,

"thou art my witness that I leave all I possess to my young Counts. I

charge thee to safeguard them." He closed his eyes as Monas bowed low

before him in token of assent. After a long pause the Prince touched

the belt and said, in his corrupt Greek, "I there place the treasure

close packed in secrecy. Farewell." (_Ufaireo dia malki tote._) These

were his last words. The boys never forgot them, and ever afterwards

used the first word, which they pronounced "_uvaru_" for a secret

hiding-place. Athanagild did not speak again, and passed away during

the night.

The moon was shining brightly, and bathing the calm expanse of water

with a silvery light, when the old man and the two young boys, with

tears in their eyes, committed the remains of this impulsive and

generous son of Alaric to the deep.

CHAPTER V

UJJAYANI

The sea was like molten silver. The burning sun blazed pitilessly

down on the little vessel, which was motionless. The northerly breeze

reckoned upon by Monas had failed him. They had been becalmed for days,

and the water was running short. All day the boys were stretched out

under a rough awning of palm leaves, panting for breath. The sky was

like a dome of burnished steel. One night Porlor watched the northern

horizon, and saw a bank of clouds rising, which he pointed out to the

old pilot and to his brother. Soon cat's-paws were seen along the

surface of the sea. Monas said there would be a breeze in the morning.

But their water would not last them, unless they replenished at some

well on the Arabian coast; yet this was a very perilous proceeding,

for the eastern side of the Red Sea was infested by savage robbers.

There was, however, no alternative, and as soon as the breeze filled

his sails, Monas steered for a port called Jidda, 320 miles south of

Myos Hormos. They came to off a grove of palm trees, which denoted the

presence of wells, on a bright moonlight night. A short distance to

the south there were a few scattered huts. When dawn broke they could

see that the wells were in possession of armed men. Monas feared to

land, but the boys declared they would die fighting rather than die

of thirst. Well armed, and accompanied by half a dozen of the crew,

Coelred and Porlor took the boat, landed, and boldly advanced towards

the wells. They were met half-way by a solitary Arab, who stood in

the path uttering the word "Bismillah." He was a powerful young man,

about five years older than Coelred, in a long camel's-hair cloth,

with the hood secured round his head by a green band. His complexion

was bronzed, nose aquiline, lips rather thick, and he had piercing

black eyes. He held a long spear in his right hand. Coelred said in

Greek that they must have water. The young Arab replied in the same

language that the wells were in his possession. He said that he was

Muhammad, the son of Abdallah, servant of Abu Taleb, one of the chiefs

of the Koraish of Mekka. He was commanding an expedition against the

robbers who attacked the caravans of Mekka, and had defeated them and

driven them from the wells of Jidda. They should have water if they

paid for it--let the master of the ship come to him. Coelred sent the

boat back for old Monas, and the English lads stood facing the Arab

youth, all leaning on their spears. Few more words passed between them.

The Arab gazed at the young Englishmen with unconcealed admiration,

and the lads scanned the features of the strange being before them

with feelings of curiosity and interest which they could not have

explained. Monas was very agreeably surprised to find a law-maintaining

force at the wells, instead of the cut-throats he expected. It was

soon arranged that the vessel should be watered and replenished with

some provisions, in exchange for six bales of cloth. This occupied

the rest of the day. Young Muhammad and the English lads rested under

the shade. The Arab's knowledge of Greek merely enabled him to strike

bargains, and he could not converse, so that the time was passed, for

the most part, in friendly silence. The undefinable feeling of interest

which took possession of the boys when they first encountered this

extraordinary man was increased as they sat near him. The expression

of his countenance changed frequently, but was always remarkable. His

eyes were bright and eager while he bargained with Monas; they had a

soft and gentle look when they rested on the truthful faces of his

companions; then again they once or twice flashed a look of fierce

anger, apparently without cause. But what the boys noticed with most

interest was that far-away, abstracted look which came into the Arab's

eyes as he rested under the trees, as if he saw things invisible to

all besides himself; and when this strange look came it lasted long.

They had seen something like it in the Princess Alca, and once or

twice in old Monas. But there was something in the Arab's look which

was peculiar to himself: it was as if madness mingled in his strange

abstraction; and when he shook it off, it was with a glance of fury.

The boys were quite absorbed by their companion, and when Monas called

them away the sun was already on the horizon. They took leave of each

other with solemn courtesy, and an hour afterwards the vessel was under

weigh and sailing down the Red Sea with a fresh northerly breeze. The

boys talked long over their encounter with this strange being, and

never forgot it. The makers of England and the false prophet had this

wonderful meeting before the serious work of their lives was begun.

It taught the English boys to recognise a man with deep convictions,

and to distinguish between real fanaticism and fraud. It elevated the

fanciful conceptions of the Arab, and when he dreamt of angels he saw

the faces of Coelred and of Porlor.

[Illustration: Coelred and Porlor on their Way to the Wells]

The breeze continued, the air was cooler, and Monas said that they

would soon reach their next stopping-place, the emporium of Ocelis.

By this time he knew the whole history of his young companions. They

had never thought for a moment of turning back after the death of the

Gothic Prince, but were quite resolved to complete their adventure

before returning to Antioch; and the old man, without any tie of his

own, had become warmly attached to them. He would give them the use of

his knowledge and experience, see them safe again on their way home,

and then follow his master Cosmas into monastic seclusion.

Many a long conversation was held between the boys and their aged

friend during the long starlight nights, when the little vessel made

her way over the smooth sea to Ocelis. One night they talked of the

young Arab and his look of abstraction. "It is the look," said Monas,

"which betokens fitness for a life of seclusion, of devotion to prayer,

and thoughts of eternity. The monks often have it, and the generation

in which I live is one much given to a monkish life. It is only in such

a life that we can find rest, safety from hell fire, and that religious

truth without which there is no safety. In Egypt alone there are now

six hundred monasteries, all maintaining the truth against the errors

of Rome." "And what is the truth?" asked Porlor. "The truth is," said

Monas, "that Christ existed _of_ two natures, and whosoever denies

it shall for ever be accursed. The Synod of Chalcedon, when Marcian

was emperor, declared that Christ existed _in_ two natures, and this

wicked heresy is still held by the priests of Rome, and sends many

souls to hell. Dangers and pitfalls of false doctrine surround us,

and the only safety from them is in monastic seclusion. Young and old

should fly to the desert." "That will I never do," cried Coelred. "My

life shall be active and earnest. I devote it to brave deeds and to

the service of my countrymen." Old Monas shook his head, but he could

not help admiring, and even approving, the very different direction

to which the hopes and aspirations of his young friends were turned.

They understood his words, but their minds were not trained to receive

such subtleties. "Does Muhammad hold the truth," asked Porlor, "or is

he, like us, ignorant of the true nature of the Son of God? We are

ignorant because what you say is beyond our comprehension. How is it

with that Arab warrior with the changing eyes?" "The Arab," said Monas,

"is a very young man, and he is a heathen. But he has been in Christian

cities with merchants of his tribe, and knows something of the truth.

I talked with him in the shade while you slept." "We were not asleep,"

protested the boys. "Fast asleep," repeated Monas, "while I sounded the

depths of the young Arab's mind. He is no ordinary man. He will either

receive the truth and convert Arabia into a land of saints, or he will

be the mightiest heresiarch with which the world has ever been cursed,

spreading desolation and moral death over what once was Christendom.

But not in my time," drowsily continued the old man. Coelred rose to

take the helm, and Porlor followed Monas to the land of dreams.

It was not often that Monas kept the boys awake with such serious

discourse. He generally related the stirring events in his voyages

with Cosmas, taught them the rules of steering by the stars, and told

of the famous book written in the time of the Emperor Nero, and called

the _Periplus of the Erythraean Sea_, from which Cosmas gleaned much

of the information which enabled him to make his voyages successfully.

The northerly wind soon brought them to the emporium of Ocelis, near

the strait of Dere, which opens upon the Erythraean Sea. Here they

again took in water and provisions, proceeding along the Arabian coast

to Kane, a port of considerable trade, where some of the merchandise

was exchanged for frankincense and aloes. Sailing onwards to the east,

they reached Syagros, whence, in accordance with the directions laid

down by his master, Monas proceeded to make his bold voyage across the

trackless ocean to distant India. The south-west wind, called Hippalus

from the pilot who first attempted the passage by it, carried the

little vessel across the sea until, in a few days, the coast of Guzerat

was sighted, the mouth of the great river Narbada was entered, and

Monas piloted her past islands and shoals, and anchored her off the

_ghât_ of the busy port of Barugaza.

Founded by the sage Bhriga, the town of Barugaza was one of the oldest

seaports of Western India, and was then one of the chief seats of

trade. Its exports were cotton, a kind of fine calico called _báftás_,

bdellium, and flowers of the mahina tree. Barugaza is on an artificial

hill 60 feet high overlooking the river, the only rising ground for

many miles around; for a flat alluvial plain of fertile black soil

stretches away for fifty miles to the foot of the mountains, covered

with crops of cotton and rice. Here and there a clump of mango and

other fruit trees denoted the position of a village, and on an island

in the Narbada there was a banyan-tree with 350 large and 3000 small

stems, enclosing a space 700 yards in circumference.

There was much to astonish, much to interest, the English lads on

first landing at the _ghât_ of Barugaza. They had seen an elephant

at Alexandria, but everything else was strange to them; especially

the dresses of the people, the merchants in their snow-white robes

and red turbans, and the crowds of coolies with nothing but a _dhuti_

round their waists, carrying heavy loads, and taking cargoes on board

the boats. Kesava was the name of the merchant who always acted as

agent for Monas when he brought a cargo to Barugaza; and this was the

fifth time he had made the voyage, without counting those in which he

accompanied Cosmas. Before they were contaminated by intercourse with

Europeans, the merchants of India were celebrated for their probity and

fair dealing; and Kesava was a good specimen of his class. Property

could be entrusted to his care with perfect confidence, and he took

charge of the vessel and the crew, while Monas and the boys were to

convey their merchandise up country to Ujjayani, one of the seven

sacred cities of the Hindus, the famous capital of Malwa.

Monas set out on his journey a few days after his arrival at Barugaza.

He and the boys travelled in open palkis, their bales of goods were

slung on bamboos which were borne on the shoulders of coolies, and they

were guarded by a well-equipped body of fighting men. They travelled up

stream, along the right bank of the Narbada, for 180 miles, to a small

town called Mandlesar, where the river is still 500 yards in width.

Thence the route turned northwards across the Vindhya Hills for a

distance of seventy miles to Ujjayani. Coelred and Porlor walked across

the hills, travelling from midnight until sunrise, and on the third day

from leaving Mandlesar they entered the far-famed capital of Malwa.

Along this road the English lads observed that long lines of trees were

planted to afford shade to travellers from the scorching rays of the

sun, while at intervals there were fountains by the road-side to enable

them to quench their thirst. Porlor, especially, was deeply impressed

with the excellence of a government which took such thought for the

comfort of its people.

The city of Ujjayani was built on the right bank of the river Sipra,

with _ghâts_ leading down to the water. It was very extensive, and

contained many grand edifices, besides the famous temple of Siva and

the palace of the Raja. There were, however, more trees than houses.

Every dwelling had its shady garden stocked with flowering shrubs, and

round the city there was a broad belt of fruit trees, and avenues of

the sacred _vata_ or peepul trees, frequented by the Hanuman monkeys.

Within this belt of foliage were the great tanks with bathing _ghâts_

shaded by clumps of tall trees, above which rose the spreading fans of

the palmyra palm and the graceful areca; while _palása_ and _tulasi_

shrubs, with their gorgeous flowers, concealed the bathers.

The golden age of Hindu literature was the period when Vikramaditya

ruled at Ujjayani about B.C. 57, and when the "Nava-ratna" or nine gems

of literature flourished there. His dynasty still ruled over Malwa,

and in 592 Jayachandra was the Raja. The place was full of traditions

of the hero king, and of his divine poet Kalidasa, whose immortal

works had the freshness and reality at Ujjayani which such poems can

only really possess at the place where they were composed. The bright

river Sipra, the flowering groves, the pretty girls descending the

_ghâts_ with lotas on their heads, the cranes in the paddy swamps--all

nature reminded the votaries of Kalidasa that he dwelt at the court

of Ujjayani when he wrote _Sakuntala_, the _Seasons_, and the _Cloud

Messenger_. Peace reigned in Malwa, but there were threatening clouds

on the northern horizon. Gollas, King of the White Huns, had overrun

Northern India, and terror repeated marvellous stories of the prowess

of his army, which included 2000 elephants. It was said that, when he

besieged a town, his soldiers drank all the water in the ditch, and

then marched dry-shod to beat down the walls. It was to this conqueror

that Athanagild had contemplated the offer of his sword; but Coelred

and Porlor had no such intention. Ujjayani was to be the remotest point

of their wanderings, whence they were to return homewards.

Monas was busily engaged in exchanging the merchandise for bales of

small bulk, containing fine calico and muslin, valuable gums, spices,

precious stones, and specie. Among his acquaintance there was an old

Guru named Govinda, who had travelled far and spoke Greek. He was a man

of profound learning though of Sudra caste, and was passing the evening

of his days at Ujjayani, occupied in speculative studies. Govinda had

taken a great fancy for the English lads, whose bright intelligence and

simple truthfulness first attracted his regard. After their bath in one

of the great tanks, they often passed hours conversing with the Guru,

asking him questions, and listening to his wonderful discourse. He was

generally in the verandah of a small garden-house near a large tank,

which was surrounded by flowering shrubs, and shaded by a large _vata_

tree. Here the Guru sat, an old man with a very benevolent expression

and high intellectual forehead, clothed in snow-white robes, often with

a bundle of reeds forming a book, and a _kalam_ in his hand. Coelred

and Porlor reclined on a step at his side, listening eagerly to what

he told them. The boys were in perfect health, being well cared for by

Monas as regards clothing and protection from the sun and from chills,

and living on a diet of rice and pulses duly seasoned, on fruits, and

milk. They were thus able to enjoy to the full all the wonders of their

sojourn at Ujjayani.

The Guru had told them many tales of Hindu gods and heroes. One

morning the boys came from their bath with a quantity of crimson

water-lilies, and a handful of the golden-coloured champaka flower,

sacred to Krishna. This led Govinda to tell them the story of the

_avatur_, calling Krishna the Son of God. They, in their turn, related

the legend of Balder, and, after reflecting a while, the Guru said that

Balder and Krishna were one, and that both were Christ. Remembering

the conversation with Monas, Porlor asked whether this Son of God with

several names, whom they all worshipped, existed _of_ two natures or

_in_ two natures. "Both," replied the Guru, and this bold solution

appeared at once to sweep away the motives for religious disputes which

sounded so incomprehensible to the boys. "Both, for whether of or in

two natures, the incarnation of a deity embraces and contains, and in

fact is, all that can be expressed by prepositions, and much more."

Then, descending from such sublime speculations, he said that he

would relate to his young friends the sequel of the story of the

Pandavas, those princes favoured by Krishna, including their search for

heaven after a long life of adventures and vicissitudes. The Pandavas

found that all the rewards of this life were vanity, and that they must

seek for higher and better things. "We must all do likewise sooner or

later, and meanwhile we may reflect on the story of the Pandavas,"

he went on. "There were five princes--Yudisthira, Arjuna, Bhima, and

the two sons of Madri. They set out with their wife Draupadi and

their dog Suparaka." "That is the name of our dear old dog at home!"

exclaimed Coelred. "True," said the Guru, "for Suparaka is Yama." He

continued--"The princes, with their beautiful wife and faithful dog,

set out for the mighty Himalaya Mountains, to find the heaven of the

gods on Mount Meru." "Is not Asgard the abode of the gods?" interrupted

Coelred. "Asgard is Meru," explained the long-suffering Guru; "but few

can reach it, trusting in their own strength. Sins and moral defects

prove fatal to the pilgrims. They toiled on over scorching plains and

snowy mountains, tired and foot-sore. Draupadi was the first to fall."

Porlor asked why she should be the first. "Her love for Arjuna was too

great," explained the Guru. "Next fell one of the sons of Madri, for

he thought that none was equal to himself; and the other son of Madri

followed, for he had the same fault. Then Arjuna fell, because he could

not fulfil his boast that he would destroy all his enemies in one day.

Bhima fell, because he cursed his opponents before he encountered them

in fight. Yudisthira and the dog Suparaka alone reached the gate of

heaven. The Prince was invited by the gods to enter, but he refused

unless Draupadi and his brothers were also received. He was assured

that they were already there. But he still refused, unless the faithful

dog Suparaka could bear him company. The gods remonstrated, but

Yudisthira was firm. 'Never, come weal or come woe, will I abandon that

faithful dog.' He prevailed, but when he entered he found that Draupadi

and his brothers were not in heaven. They cried to him for help from

hell. Yudisthira triumphed in the crowning trial. He resolved to share

the fate of his dear ones in hell, rather than enjoy heaven without

them. This was the supreme test applied by the gods. They then showed

him that it was all _maya_ or illusion, and the brothers, Draupadi, and

the dog dwell in heaven with the gods, in full content of heart for

ever."

Coelred and Porlor talked much over this story of Yudisthira when they

returned that evening to their home with Monas. They loved the Pandu

prince for standing by the good dog Suparaka, and they swore that they

would imitate the steadfast loyalty of Yudisthira.

Thus the days passed on, while Monas completed his business, and the

Guru related many strange tales to the English lads. One day, as they

sat with him, a dark mass of cloud rose from the southern horizon, and

moved rapidly northwards across the sky towards the Himalayan snows.

Old Govinda pointed to it, and said that it reminded him of Kalidasa's

poem of the _Cloud Messenger_. "Tell us about it," said both the boys;

and he related how Yaksha was banished for some fault by the god

Kuvera, and was sent to pass the years of his exile at Ramagiri, near

Nagpore, and to the south of Ujjayani, and of the Vindhyan Hills. One

day he saw a cloud, the herald of the rainy season, passing to the

north, just as the cloud we now see floats in the same direction. He

prayed to the cloud to take a message for him, after discharging some

of its moisture.

With pinions swifter by the 'minisht store,

Soon over Vindhyan mountains thou wilt soar,

And Reva's rippling stream, whose waters glide

Beneath their feet, without their rush and roar,

In many a rock-bound channel, summer dried,

Like lines of paint that deck an elephant's huge side.

The cloud passed on to this bright imperial city of Ujjayani, the

pride of all the earth. It rested on flower-sweet terraces where women

sit at open casements, while the air of the morning

Plays wooingly around the loosened hair

And fevered cheek--

Then, as it blows o'er Sipra fresh and strong,

Bids all her swans upon the banks prepare

To hail the sunrise.

"The cloud hurries onward on its journey," said Porlor, "but whither

was Yaksha's message sent?" "It was sent," said the Guru, "to Alakà."

"To Alca!" exclaimed both the boys, as they sprang to their feet

in astonishment. Then, seeing the question in Govinda's eyes, they

explained that Alca was the beautiful Princess of Deira. "We love her

more than anything in the world. She knows everything. She loves all

living things. She can disclose all the hidden mysteries of nature. She

is our joy, our hope. Oh that the cloud would take a message to her

from us! Shall we pray to it? Answer us, good Govinda."

The Guru looked at the eager faces of the boys. He then pondered for

a long time. At last he said--"The Alakà of our religion is believed

to be the abode or the heaven of the Gandharva on Mount Meru. The

Gandharva is the being who knows and reveals the secrets of nature and

divine truth, and prepares the holy soma juice for the gods." He again

paused to think. "Your northern Princess Alca is the same as our Alakà,

the abode of the Gandharva of wisdom and truth, the depository of the

secrets of nature. You do well to love her. Pray then to the cloud

and it will take your message." The boys knelt down, praying long and

fervently to the cloud to take their message. It was that they were

well, that they had never forgotten her words, that they would return

to her. The Guru assured them that they had not prayed in vain. They

had never felt so happy since they parted from the Princess at Aldby.

Not many days afterwards they bade farewell to the Guru, who

had become warmly attached to them; for Monas had completed his

arrangements, the bales were ready, and they started on their return

journey to Barugaza. The boys had offered their old friend a gold ring

as a keepsake, which he declined. But when he saw them for the last

time he gave them a small parcel as an offering for their Princess. "It

contains," he said, "a very precious gum called bdellium, translucent

and fragrant. It is a trifle by which to remember me." "We shall never

forget you, dear Guru," exclaimed Coelred; and Porlor declared that

"Bdellium" should be their watchword and the watchword of their friends

for evermore. Soon Ujjayani and the Guru, Barugaza and its busy _ghât_,

were but memories. The north-east wind was taking their little vessel

homewards again across the Erythraean Sea.

One night, as old Monas sat aft by the steering oar, with Coelred and

Porlor near him, he asked the boys what they had been told by the Guru.

Porlor was full of his praises, and repeated the stories of Krishna and

of the Pandus; but something held the brothers back from mentioning the

Cloud Messenger to the aged pilot. They declared that the Guru was the

wisest, the most learned, and the most religious man in the world, and

that he was beloved by God. "The strange and incomprehensible questions

over which others quarrel for days and years, the Guru sees through and

settles with a word. He is generous, and says that all men, more or

less, are in the right way." Monas shook his head. "My friend Govinda,"

he said, "is learned and good. It grieves me to the heart that he will

assuredly be burnt in hell fire for ever and ever. Yet that must be

his fate, for he is unsound on all points of doctrine." It was on the

tip of Coelred's tongue to say he would go where the Guru went; but he

checked himself, for the boys loved old Monas, and made it a point not

to anger or annoy him. "Beware," he continued, "how you allow plausible

falsehoods to sink into your hearts. You are very young and will be

surrounded by dangers. May the Lord watch over you!"

On another night Monas explained their position to his young friends.

"Thanks to Prince Athanagild," he said, "you are very rich. Your

property consists of small bales easily carried but of great value, and

of gold coins and gems. The crew will be amply recompensed by a present

of the vessel and a generous distribution of money. We will land at

Berenike, to which port the voyage is much shorter than to Myos Hormos.

There camels can be procured, and the journey to the Nile will occupy

three days. I will accompany you to Alexandria and see you embarked for

Antioch. For myself I need nothing. I go to the cell of my old master,

who must now be dead, where I shall end my days happily, in prayer and

in the contemplation of the true nature of the incarnate Word. Your

destiny is very different. I am on the verge of the grave. You are

entering upon life. You are brave and true. May the blessing of God be

with you!"

It was very grateful to the old pilot to receive the warm thanks of

his young friends, knowing how true and genuine they were; and the

voyage passed pleasantly. The plans of Monas were admirably arranged.

The crew was satisfied, the journey across the desert and the voyage

down the Nile were performed without accident, and when Coelred and

Porlor left Alexandria in the vessel that was to convey them to the

port of Antioch, the last thing they saw was the white cloth with which

old Monas waved his farewell from the Pharos.

CHAPTER VI

IRAN

Sivel was a very intelligent and quick-witted boy, and he rapidly

learnt all his companions could teach him in the treasury office at

Antioch and in the mint. He was able to read and write, and had even

tried his hand on the dies for stamping coins. The decadence of art

had been very rapid since the days of Gallienus. All attempts at

portraiture on the coins had disappeared, though there was still a

head, and an angel with orb and cross on the reverse. It was not beyond

the powers of a clever boy like Sivel to tool the inscriptions, and

even to copy the rough effigy of the good Emperor. Not a few of the

rude letters traced on Byzantine money of this period are the work of

our English boy:

TI MAVRICIVS IMP AN IX COS

DN MAVRICIVS PP AVG,

or

DN MAVRIC TIBER PF AVG;

and he was thus busily employed when the news spread that troops from

the Persian war were returning. Sivel lived, with several Greek clerks

in the employment of the Count of the Sacred Largesses, in a large room

opening on a court which formed part of the palace. As he worked one

day, two tall forms stood in the doorway, and in another moment the

delighted boy was wrapped in the tight embraces of Lilla and Bassus,

who had returned unhurt from the war, and with license to proceed on

their own affairs to Rome. Many days had not elapsed before Coelred and

Porlor, with their small but precious bales, also reached the Syrian

capital and found a safe place--an "_uvaru_" they called it--in which

to bestow their goods for the time. The lads were beside themselves

with joy at meeting once more, and they agreed that all, including

Sivel, should embark in the first vessel bound for Brundusium.

They longed to hear each other's stories, and when Porlor had related

the particulars of the wonderful voyage to India and back, Lilla

promised, with the help of his friend Bassus, to describe what they

had seen during the Persian war. On the next evening they assembled

under the shade of the grove of palm trees, outside the city gate,

whence they had beheld the arrival of Khosro Parviz before their

adventures began. Bassus first explained the cause of the war. "On the

dethronement and death of Hormazd IV., King of Persia," he said, "there

was great confusion. Bahram, the ablest of the Persian generals, gained

over the army and seized the government, while the King's son, Khosro

Parviz, took refuge in Roman territory. We all witnessed his arrival at

Antioch from this very spot, and we know that the Emperor graciously

resolved to restore the fugitive prince to the throne of his ancestors.

He was influenced in making this decision partly by policy, but mainly,

it is believed, by the generous dictates of his imperial nature. Our

master in the art of war, the great General Narses, received the

commands of the Emperor Maurice to execute his orders, and he planned

the campaign with consummate skill. It was known that Bahram, with

the Persian army, was posted in the Mesopotamian plain beyond the

river Tigris, and not far from the foot of the mountains. Narses

resolved that the Roman forces should enter Persia in two divisions.

The General himself, accompanied by the King of Persia, led the main

body from Antioch to the Tigris, while a Roman contingent, under the

command of John, the Prefect of Armenia, was to create a diversion by

breaking into the northern Persian province of Azerbijan. For Narses

had carefully studied the science of tactics and evolutions under the

eye of the Emperor, who was himself the author of twelve books on the

military art. You saw the army commence its march, and we parted in the

earnest hope that this happy day of meeting again would not be long

deferred. Lilla must now tell you of our march."

The thread of the story was then taken up by the fearless son of

Guthlaf. "As pages of the General," said Lilla, "we rode behind him,

and encamped near his tent. For several days we had to traverse a

vast desert, and we were often parched with thirst; but at length we

reached the river Tigris, passing over it near a great mound which,

we were told, covers the ruins of the most ancient city in the world,

called Nineveh. Crossing the river, our General made three rapid

marches to overtake the Persians, who were encamped at the foot of the

mountains. Then the wisdom of the strategy of Narses was made clear.

Hearing of the march of the Armenian contingent, the Persian General

feared lest it should fall on his rear, and he began a rapid march to

the northward to attack it. But the Prefect John had strict orders to

avoid an encounter; and eventually Bahram made a countermarch to cover

the city of Canzaca, towards which Narses was steadily advancing.

Leaving the plain, our way led us through the mountains of Media, to

Sirgàn, on the plain of Ushneï, where a junction was formed with John's

contingent. Three days afterwards a great battle was fought in a hilly

country. For a time the Roman infantry fell back before the vigorous

charges of Persian horse, and Narses himself dashed into the thick of

the battle. We fought by his side, and when the victory was won the

General was so pleased with us that he gave us separate commands of

infantry companies. Next morning Bahram continued his retreat over

the mountains, closely pursued by us, and at night we pitched our

camp close to the Persian position. Still retreating, the Persians

descended into the plain in which their great city of Canzaca is built

on a high rock. Here the final and decisive battle was fought. Bassus

and I led on our men, and were long engaged in desperate encounters

side by side. At last we saw the enemy flying in all directions. But

we were too exhausted to follow them, and rested for three days on the

battle-field. Our General then occupied the Persian city of Canzaca.

"Khosro Parviz was overjoyed. Our army had made him once more King of

Kings, or _Malkân Malkâ_. He declared that the Emperor Maurice was his

father, requested a contingent of the Romans to remain in his service,

and promised great rewards to the rest. For a short time we were posted

in the wonderful city where the people worship fire which has been kept

burning for 700 years." Porlor and Coelred had both been too absorbed

in the story of the campaign to interrupt with questions, but now

Porlor asked whether fire was really the god of those people. "Yes,"

said Bassus, "we saw them worshipping before it. Canzaca is on a hill

which rises high above the plain, with a steep acclivity to the north

and west, and a sloping approach from the east. The brow of this hill

is crowned by a circlet of strong stone walls 12 feet wide, extending

for a great distance, with an arched gateway also of massive hewn

stone, leading into the town. In the highest part of the town there is

a lake, 300 paces round, with exquisitely clear water of a deep blue

colour, which has no bottom. And now I come to your question about the

fire. Near the lake there stands a fire-temple--_pyraeum_ the Greeks

call it. Built of bricks and cement, its walls are of great thickness,

and a narrow vaulted passage surrounds the central chamber. This

chamber has a great arch on each of its sides, and is surmounted by a

circular dome on which the stars of heaven are painted. A silver moon

is on the highest point. In the centre of this chamber is the altar

with the sacred fire. We have seen the King, Khosro Parviz, enthroned

there, surrounded by emblems of the sun and moon, with the golden globe

on his head, while all his people prayed to the flame on the altar."

"We used to sit on the walls," said Lilla, "and look over a vast

extent of country bounded by distant mountains. At our feet there was

a winding rocky ridge, the height of two men and 80 paces long, called

'the Dragon.' We were told that the monster was coming open-mouthed

to devour the city when it was suddenly transformed into stone by the

potent spell of the signet ring of an ancient king they call Solomon.

Certainly it was lying on the plain before us, like a winding serpent

of stone. We were offered commands by the King of Persia, which we

declined, and the General then said that we deserved some reward and

might name it. So we asked for license to go to Rome, where friends

urgently needed our presence, which was granted. Narses said that he

was sorry to part with us when we took leave, and we set out with

a small escort. We had to cross the Median mountains to reach the

plains of Mesopotamia, and in the pass my Bassus was so badly hurt by

a fall with his horse that we had to remain at a place called Sideh

for several days." "Did they also worship fire in that place?" asked

Porlor. "No," said Lilla, "they had a stranger worship. They believe in

an ancient bird called the Simùrg, which has been alive since the world

began. Passing to and fro over the earth from the beginning, the Simùrg

has seen everything. It therefore knows everything, and is a bird of

great wisdom. Its counsel is sought for, but it is seldom seen, and its

abode is believed to be on the mountain peak of Demavend. They worship

a figure of the Simùrg made of silver, which we saw. It was on a raised

platform, and has a swelling breast, small head, and wide-spreading

tail. Two lamps are always burning before it, and close by there is a

jug filled with water, to be used as a spell for the sick and afflicted

when the Simùrg cannot be consulted in person. As soon as Bassus was

well enough we left Sideh, descended into the plain, and, after a long

and tedious journey, arrived at Antioch without further accident."

"How wonderful are the numbers of gods!" observed Porlor. "We have

found people not only worshipping the Son of God under many names, but

also bowing down to snakes, cows, and monkeys. Now you tell us that

there are people who worship a flame of fire, and others whose belief

is in an ancient bird. Many of their creeds are incomprehensible, but

the Princess Alca will explain it all to us when we go home." Coelred

warmly thanked Lilla and Bassus for the story of their campaign, which

had been of absorbing interest to him, and for telling him and Porlor

of all the wonders they had seen. A very happy evening had been passed

under the palm trees.

The subsequent days were occupied in preparations for the voyage to

Brundusium. A vessel had been hired at Seleucia and was ready to sail,

when a great calamity overtook the friends. Little Sivel was missing.

He had not been seen since the evening when Lilla and Bassus related

their adventures. The other lads had taken leave of him in the street,

but his companions in the treasury said that he never came home.

Several days were wasted in a vain search. At last Lilla remembered

that, while passing through a crowd in the _agora_ the day after his

arrival, he for a moment caught sight of a face which reminded him of

Mystacon. The incident had passed from his memory, being full of other

exciting thoughts at the time. "I see it all!" exclaimed Porlor. The

rest turned to him for an explanation, but he declared there was no

time to explain, and that they must hurry down to the port of Seleucia.

Porlor instituted inquiries at once, through the agent for their

vessel, and sure enough Mystacon the merchant had been there. He had

sailed, on his way to Rome, three days before. Further inquiry elicited

the fact that some one, muffled up in cloths and gagged, had been

carried on board.

"We are too late!" exclaimed Porlor. "We must follow quickly to Rome

and effect the rescue there. For the villainy is unmasked. Mystacon

has seen Pamphronius, who has offered large sums for the recovery of

his slaves. He has found out that our Sivel was at Antioch, with his

value greatly increased owing to his acquired knowledge and well-known

ability, of which every one talks. He has kidnapped our boy and taken

him to Rome, with the object of extorting a heavy sum from Pamphronius,

and he will probably keep Sivel concealed until it is paid." They were

all wild with rage. "To the rescue! to the rescue!" they shouted.

"Death to Mystacon and Pamphronius!" Their preparations were soon made.

Next day the captain and crew were on board, the anchor was up, and the

vessel was bowling along before a fresh easterly breeze. But it was a

long stern chase.

The lads held many consultations during the voyage. Great caution

would be necessary, for they were resolved not only to rescue Sivel,

but also to kill Mystacon, and perhaps Pamphronius. Otacilia, the widow

of Symmachus Boethius, who had always been very kind to Coelred and

Porlor, and disliked Pamphronius, had manumitted all her husband's

slaves. This news had reached Antioch. Coelred and Porlor, in order to

be close to the scene of action, would therefore seek, and felt sure

of obtaining, hospitality in the great rambling villa of the departed

Symmachus. Lilla and Bassus would take up their quarters, as imperial

officers, in lodgings within the old Prætorian camp. Their friends

at the monastery would be eager to help as soon as the news was told

them. Then a watch must be kept on the Pamphronian villa, while Lilla

was to visit his old master, and ascertain whether Sivel was already

there. All the haunts of Mystacon were also to be searched, and further

details were to be settled hereafter, as they must depend on the course

of events.

Thus did these lads rack their brains to devise the surest way of

rescuing their beloved companion. Coelred and Porlor were rich, and

easily defrayed the expenses of the vessel, and of posting rapidly

from Brundusium to Rome. It was early in the year 595 that the four

lads returned. Six years had passed since the mortifying scene in the

slave-market. Lilla and Coelred had now reached the age of eighteen,

Porlor was sixteen years old. Both Coelred and Porlor were hospitably

received by Otacilia, as they anticipated, and the heroes from Persia

were lodged in the old camp. Next day they all hurried to greet and to

consult with their comrades in the monastery of St. Andrew.

CHAPTER VII

THE RESCUE OF SIVEL

Once more the little society of English boys was assembled at its

old trysting-place under the cypress trees, near the _navicula_, on

the Caelian Hill--all but Sivel. When the first transports of joy at

meeting again were over, they gazed on each other and rejoiced at the

changes they saw, from weak boys to be sold and beaten, to powerful

young warriors who were able to defend themselves. Forthere was nearly

mad with rage and anxiety when he heard of the abduction of his young

cousin. He had become a strong and muscular youth, a most formidable

antagonist, as impulsive as ever, and otherwise unchanged--a vigorous

foe, but a true and faithful friend. Little Godric was still a boy.

Hereric had grown into a youth of singular grace and beauty. He was now

sixteen, and he had an air of cultivation and breeding, due partly to

his high rank, but also to the knowledge he had acquired. He could read

and write, and had become a sincere Christian. If he had a fault, it

was that he relied too much on the probity of others, and was easily

deceived by designing men. Forthere and Godric were devoted to the

Atheling, as indeed were all his companions. No one could know the

Deiran Prince without loving him. To the sons of Seomel and to Lilla he

was almost a brother.

Hereric had startling news to tell. He had passed most of his time

studying under Laurentius in the monastery of St. Andrew. But Forthere

and Godric, refusing to work at books, were sent to Monte Cassiano,

where they were employed in the fields or at the works connected with

the extension of the monastery. They were often in trouble, owing to

their decided aversion for the _Regula Monachorum_ of St. Benedict; and

they had recently been brought back to the Caelian Hill.

Gregory had not forgotten his intention to introduce Christianity

into England, the land of the beautiful children in the market-place.

Three had been brought up in the monastery on the Caelian, and one

at least would now make an excellent interpreter. He resolved to

entrust the mission to his prior of St. Andrew, whose reward was to

be the bishopric of the new diocese. Augustine was to be accompanied

by Laurentius and Peter, Hereric and his two companions, and several

monks and attendants. Letters were written to the Queens Fredegonda and

Brunehaud for protection while passing through their dominions; and

to Vergilius, the Bishop of Arles, to bespeak hospitality. Brunehaud

promised also to provide an interpreter. Hereric had been told of the

mission, and was, of course, delighted at so good an opportunity of

returning home, provided that all his companions were equally favoured.

But as the day for starting approached, the monks showed great

repugnance to being employed on such a service. They were terrified,

and although Augustine was not so faint-hearted, he looked upon the

undertaking as being full of danger. The truth was that Forthere had

been telling the monks such stories about England as made their hair

stand on end. The time was very near; for the departure of the mission

was to take place on the very next day, the 21st of July 596.

When all the news had been exchanged, the boys were long in

consultation. The plans for the discovery and rescue of Sivel were laid

with care and circumspection. But Forthere was torn different ways. He

could not endure leaving Rome with his adopted brother still in the

hands of the villain Mystacon; yet his devotion for the Atheling made

it equally hard to quit the mission and remain. Hereric settled the

question. "Forthere, my more than brother, your duty is clear. Sivel is

the adopted son of your valorous father, Brand of Ulfskelf. You must

follow the quest for him until his rescue is achieved. The loss to me

is greater than I can tell you. But our Godric is growing to be a man,

and a brave one. He will be my faithful companion and true soldier in

your absence." Young Godric's face flushed with pleasure, while Hereric

and Forthere clasped each other in a long, silent embrace. "But," added

the Atheling, as he gazed into Forthere's eyes, "you must follow the

rede of Porlor, and the guidance of Coelred and Lilla. Strike when they

give the signal, but not before. Your blow is strong and sure. Let it

fall at the appointed time, and not too suddenly, my Forthere. God

bless you all, and may our next meeting be in our own land, with Sivel

in our midst!"

It was clear that, if the boys accomplished all they intended, Rome

would be too hot to hold them. Their course of action must be guided

by events, but their general plan was to have horses always ready at

the Symmachan villa, to overpower the guard at one of the gates when

their work was done, and to join the army of the Lombard King. Thence

they would make their way, by fair means or foul, to their native land.

Coelred prevailed upon Hereric to take a good supply of money, and the

Atheling also undertook to convey the small but precious bales from

India, as part of his own baggage. It was the only chance of their

reaching England.

Next day the mission left Rome. Pope Gregory offered up prayers, said

mass at St. Peter's, and gave the monks his blessing. No attempt was

made to oblige Forthere to go when he refused. A more woebegone set of

wretches than the monks of this mission could not be conceived. They

looked miserable and terror-stricken. Augustine was supported by the

importance and responsibility of his position, Laurentius and Peter

were good men and true, but the rest were very poor creatures. Hereric

and Godric, alert and armed, brought up the rear, and long did they

wave their caps to their beloved comrades, who stood on Aurelian's Wall

to see the last of them. Two days afterwards Augustine came back alone.

The cowardly terror of his monks had so increased that they sent their

prior to entreat the holy Gregory that they should not be compelled to

undertake so dangerous, toilsome, and uncertain a journey. But the holy

Gregory was inexorable. He sent back Augustine, telling them that "it

was better not to begin a good work than to think of desisting from

that which had been begun. It behoves you, my beloved sons," he went

on, "to fulfil the good work which, by the help of our Lord, you have

undertaken, being assured that much labour is followed by an eternal

reward. When Augustine returns, humbly obey him in all things." So the

cowardly missionaries had to go on; but very few intended to trust

their precious skins beyond Arles, or some other safe place for monks

in the south of France. Forthere was much amused at the return of

Augustine, believing that his stories had played a part in frightening

the monks, whom he thoroughly despised.

Meanwhile the plans for the rescue were put in train without delay.

On the first day Bassus and Porlor watched the approaches to the

Pamphronian villa. Coelred searched the warehouses under the Aventine

Hill, where they had all been confined when they first came to Rome.

But the place was deserted. Lilla and Forthere went through every

street and lane in the Suburra, scanning each face that passed them,

but without result. Next day the rescuers were more fortunate. Forthere

was again prowling in the vilest purlieus of the Suburra, when he

caught sight of a face he recognised. Its owner was muffled in a

cloak, which he drew quickly over his head, and ran at speed down a

narrow lane. In another moment the hand of Forthere was upon him. His

struggles were unavailing, and he was dragged out into the open space

at the foot of the Palatine, gagged, and bound. Forthere was almost

certain that the face was that of one of the servants of Mystacon. The

sun had set, and as soon as it was dusk the vigorous young Englishman

half carried and half dragged his captive across the Forum, and down

the Appian Way to the garden of the villa of Symmachus. Forthere shared

a _cubiculum_ in the villa with his cousins. In this little room he

deposited the living bundle, and left him still more securely bound and

gagged. He required the rede of Porlor and his other comrades before

proceeding further. He found Coelred and Bassus watching the villa of

Pamphronius, while Porlor and Lilla returned from fruitless searches

soon afterwards. They all began to examine their prisoner.

The man swore that he had never seen his captors before, and had

never heard of Mystacon; but they all recognised him, so he was turned

on his back, a sword was put on his throat, and he was told that it

would be drawn across it if he told a single lie. They then found

that Sivel had been several days at Rome, confined in a house in the

Suburra; not ill treated, the man declared, but only kept secure. All

this time Mystacon had been bargaining for the full price of Sivel to

be paid again to him if he was restored, pretending that he was not

actually in Rome. Pamphronius offered half the price. He was furious

at the way his slaves had been taken from him, and would pay high for

the mere spiteful pleasure of getting them into his power. A bargain

had at length been struck, and Sivel was to be delivered over to his

master the next day, after noon. The man was tied up again, gagged, and

secured in the stable.

After a consultation, it was decided that the intended preliminary

interview between Lilla and Pamphronius would be unnecessary. They

now knew all they wanted to know. They would watch for the arrival of

Mystacon and his victim, and effect the rescue by force. All the old

fury that they had felt when they first heard that they were to be

sold as slaves came back to them--the mortification and the burning

shame. Forthere was beside himself with rage at the thoughts of the

old insults and of the danger to which his beloved little brother was

still exposed. It would be a bad time for Mystacon when he next met the

outraged lads. In the morning they looked carefully to their arms; and

saw that the horses were ready for a start at any moment, with a small

supply of food for each rider.

In the afternoon all five comrades concealed themselves behind a

ruined wall, and kept careful watch over the villa of Pamphronius. It

was thought better to allow the slave-dealer with his party to enter

than to attack him in the road, where they might be interrupted.

Forthere had a heavy club, the rest were armed with swords. All

had long knives. After an anxious interval, they at length heard

many footsteps. First came Mystacon himself, looking proud and

self-satisfied, and it was with the greatest difficulty that Forthere

could restrain himself from flying at the villain's throat. Then

followed a closed litter, carried by slaves, and half a dozen armed

men. The doors of the villa were closed, but when Mystacon knocked and

uttered the words "Servus Captus" in a loud voice, they were thrown

open. The little procession passed in, and they were quickly closed and

barred again. The boys rushed towards the doors, furious and baffled;

but Porlor made a sign for silence. He then knocked in his turn and

said "Servus Captus" in a loud voice. Again the doors were thrown

open, and a tall slave appeared. Porlor flew at his throat, and the

unexpected assault threw him off his balance. He fell without uttering

a sound, and in another instant Forthere had cut his throat. They were

now in the large deserted _atrium_. At the other end there were heavy

curtains concealing the great hall, and behind them they heard voices.

The five lads pulled themselves together. They were well armed, but

they were about to face heavy odds if the attendants showed fight.

They drew their swords. "Ready?" cried Coelred, and the curtains were

torn aside. Coelred and Forthere occupied the entrance, while Lilla

and Bassus rushed across the hall to the opposite door, to prevent all

escape. Porlor then advanced a little and looked round. On the right,

at a table, were Pamphronius and Mystacon. On the left was Sivel tied

hands and feet, and held by two slaves, with half a dozen armed men

behind them. To send the slaves flying and cut the bonds was the work

of an instant. Porlor put his arm round Sivel, who flew to his side.

The other four lads made a furious onslaught on the armed men. Lilla

ran the foremost through the body, Bassus cut down another, and the

rest threw down their swords and surrendered. "The first that moves

is a dead man," cried Coelred, and Forthere proceeded to secure and

gag them. Pamphronius and Mystacon remained to be dealt with. The

slave-dealer's face was blanched with fear. Too well he recognised his

assailants. But the patrician tried to put a bold face on the matter.

"The Holy Father will make you all answer for this outrage," he cried.

"Osvitus and Sivellus are my property. I have a right to recover them.

They belong to me." This was more than Forthere could stand. To his

astonishment Pamphronius found himself seized by the throat and dragged

into the middle of the room. "Miserable wretch!" shouted the enraged

Englishman. "Lilla is the descendant of God, Sivel is the brother of

a goddess. Their fathers were brave warriors who could make a hundred

such creatures as you run before them. You are not good enough to be

their slave. Kneel down and ask their pardon, or I will smash your

skull," and he raised the heavy club he had brought with him. The

patrician had never been spoken to in this way in all his life. But

he was in mortal terror, and did what he was told. "Shall I kill the

niddring?" asked Forthere. "It is not necessary," said Porlor. So he

was well tied up, gagged, and rolled into a corner. Then Mystacon

was brought forward howling for mercy, and reminding the boys of all

his kindness. "For you, vile wretch," said Coelred, "there can be no

forgiveness. You had fair warning. We prayed to you to spare us from

shame and humiliation, and you had no mercy. We told you then that we

would kill you, and Englishmen always keep faith. You must die, and at

our hands." He made a sign to Forthere, who ran Mystacon through and

through, and he fell dead. "We could not have left Rome with honour,"

said Coelred, "until this was done."

[Illustration: Death of Mystacon]

They all went quickly to the villa of Symmachus, and prepared to mount

their horses. Coelred and Porlor had already explained what was about

to happen to their kind old friend Otacilia, and taken their leave.

"Will you be able to ride, my Sivel?" asked Forthere, as he tenderly

embraced his recovered brother. "Anywhere with you," replied the

boy. He looked very pale and ill. But there was no time to be lost.

They hastily mounted, and, led by Coelred, they galloped down to the

Asinarian Gate. The guard turned out, and was attacked furiously by

the Englishmen. Two men were cut down, and the rest ran away for help.

Bassus and Lilla dismounted to unbar and throw open the gates, and they

all galloped out into the starry night. For several hours they rode on

at a steady pace, but they did not appear to have been followed. So

they stopped for a few hours of rest before sunrise, tethered their

horses, and were soon fast asleep. Next day they continued to ride

northwards, stopping at noon for a short siesta. All this time they had

been too eager while riding, and too tired when resting, to consult

much with each other; and they were awakened from their noonday sleep

by a great band of armed and mounted warriors who surrounded them.

Roughly seized, they were almost in despair when they were dragged

before the commander of this force.

But all turned out well. In the handsome warrior with huge drooping

moustache Coelred was reminded of the Gothic Prince Athanagild. "He

must be of our kindred," he thought, and spoke to him in English,

saying that he and his companions were Englishmen, escaping from

bondage at Rome, who threw themselves on his protection. The commander

was well pleased, received the lads as his countrymen, and enlisted

them in his force. It was quite providential that they should have

fallen in with these Saxons, for they would be taken by them in safety

within easy reach of England. A large Saxon army of nearly 20,000 men

had entered the service of Agilulphus, who ascended the throne of the

Lombards in 590. But they were not satisfied, and were about to return

in a body to their own country on the lower Rhine. There was nothing

to stop them, and a few months after our English lads entered their

ranks they commenced their march over the Alps, and down the course of

the Rhine, a journey presenting physical difficulties, and of great

interest, but involving no danger when in such powerful company. This

protection continued until our young heroes found themselves on the

shores of the German Ocean, facing their own native land. They had

resolved to return from the first. They were always confident that the

happy day would come. Alca had told them that they were not to die in a

distant land. Now they were full of joyful anticipations. Her words, as

they always knew, were true. The years of banishment were past and gone

for ever.

PART III

WORK

So much to do that is not e'en begun.

So much to hope for that we cannot see,

So much to win, so many things to be.

L. MORRIS.

CHAPTER I

THE STORY OF AUGUSTINE

Six tall young warriors landed one summer morning on the British shore,

at Ebbs-fleet, in the Isle of Thanet. They were healthy, and strong,

and goodly to look upon. The eldest was a dark Italian, the others

with the fair hair and florid complexions of Englishmen. Young Sivel

had quite recovered his health and good looks, and all were alert and

ready for anything that might betide. It was the last year of the sixth

century. Their eager inquiries were answered by the news that some

Italian monks and two English lads had landed two years before, and had

been allowed to establish themselves at Canterbury, the capital of the

kingdom of Kent.

The Jutes who formed the Kentish settlement had been near neighbours

of the English on the Continent, and like the royal houses of

Bernicia and Deira, the Æskingas of Kent were descended from Woden.

King Ethelbert had succeeded his father Imeric in 561, and was now

an old man, having reigned for thirty-eight years. He had married a

Frankish princess, Bertha, the daughter of Charibert, King of Paris.

They were an aged couple, and their son Eadbald had arrived at man's

estate. Ethelbert, in spite of one crushing defeat which he received

at Wimbledon from Ceaulin and Cutha of Wessex in 568, had been a

successful ruler. Northwards his influence extended to the Humber.

Sledda, the King of Essex, who married his sister Ricula, acknowledged

his sovereignty, and he was received by all the English people south

of the Humber as Bretwalda, or overlord. As the Queen Bertha was a

Christian, she had always had a priest in attendance upon her, and

Luidhard, the Bishop of Senlis, was now her chaplain.

The young warriors became acquainted with these particulars on their

arrival, and, as horses could not be procured at once, they set out on

foot for Canterbury. The first person they met, superintending some

buildings outside the town, was their old friend Peter. He told them

that Hereric and Godric were safe and well, and conducted them to the

temporary monastery, where the Atheling and his young companion were

soon embracing their friends. At length all the boys were again united.

Soon they sat down round Hereric, to hear the story of his adventures.

"I and Godric," he said, "saw you all waving to us from the wall of

Aurelian as we rode out of Rome, looking so tall and strong, and we

were happy in the certainty that, if it was God's will, you would

rescue our Sivel. It was a mournful journey, for the unwilling monks

did nothing but sigh and groan with coward fear, for which our Forthere

was partly answerable. The stories they told, on his authority, were

enough to appal even brave men, which they certainly were not. At

last they sent back the Prior to entreat the Holy Father to allow

them to return to Rome. But Gregory's reply urged them to proceed,

and the threats of Augustine obliged them to continue the journey.

When we arrived at Arles, the good bishop Vergilius received us most

hospitably, and supplied us with the means of carrying ourselves and

our goods across France. Here many of the monks feigned sickness, and

declared that they could not travel. They were left behind, and others

fell away when we passed through towns where there were convents with

the Benedictine rule. Queen Brunehaud of Austrasia sent us a Frankish

interpreter, but although I could understand him, he had no knowledge

of English, and was useless in the interpretation of Augustine's Latin.

We went over much of the road we all know so well, and at Amfleet our

pitiful condition, when we stood shivering on the sand, came back to

our minds.

"Forty very cowardly monks and servants left Rome. Only a fourth

part embarked at Amfleet. The party consisted of the Prior Augustine,

Laurentius and Peter, Godric and I, and five convent servants. We

landed in the island of Thanet, which, as you saw, is separated from

Kent by the river Wantsum, nearly a mile in width. All now depended

upon us, for the monks could not speak a word to the people, and the

Frank sent by Queen Brunehaud was of little or no use. I proposed to

Augustine that I should go to the King of the country, announce his

arrival, and ask for license to land. The Prior consented, but enjoined

me to conceal my rank and name. I rode to Canterbury, and was allowed

to have an interview with King Ethelbert and his son Eadbald. The Queen

was also present, and the Bishop of Senlis. They received me very

kindly, and allowed me to keep my name and rank from them until a time

when I could more fitly divulge it. Eadbald did not wish that the monks

should be allowed to remain. But the Queen and her bishop strongly

urged their cause, and I was sent back with a message that they might

remain until Ethelbert had seen them, when they would hear further.

"I returned to Thanet, and, by order of the King, we were supplied

with provisions and a house. Here were stored the precious Eastern

bales of Coelred and Porlor, five books sent by Gregory, a cross and

a picture, and some vestments. A few days afterwards the King came to

Thanet, and, sitting in the open air, he ordered our company to be

brought before him. He would not let us come into his presence under

a roof, lest we should practise any magical arts so as to impose upon

him, and get the better of him. The Prior formed the most imposing

procession possible under the circumstances. First he came himself

bearing a silver cross in his hand, with Laurentius and Peter close

behind him, carrying a board with the Son of God painted upon it. Next

came Godric and I, while the five convent servants brought up the rear,

singing a litany. The King ordered Augustine to deliver his message,

and when I explained the royal words, the Prior began to preach in

Latin until they all seemed weary, for not a word did they understand.

He then told me to repeat what he had said in English more briefly,

which I did, giving only the substance of his discourse. The King and

those with him seemed very favourably impressed; and not only was

permission granted for the monks to live in Canterbury, but a promise

was given to supply them with all necessaries, and they had license to

preach the new religion."

"All this was due to Hereric alone," interrupted Godric. "The Prior

was so long and unintelligible that they were all weary of him, and I

am sure that he and his monks would have been sent straight back to

France. But when the Atheling stood up, not stooping with a cowl over

his head, but erect and graceful, with his golden hair waving in the

breeze, the scene changed as if by magic. All eyes were turned to him,

and every man present listened eagerly. His voice, as we all know,

is sweet and pleasant to hear. He described the wonderful birth and

the good works of Jesus. He related the events of His death with such

feeling that the Kentish warriors swore great oaths, while Ethelbert

sprang to his feet, drew his sword, and waved it over his head with

excitement. The monks were terrified. The servants ran away, Augustine

and Laurentius cowered down, old Peter alone stood his ground. They

understood nothing, but heard the oaths and saw the old King with his

drawn sword, vowing vengeance on the Jews. There was a long pause.

Then, in a gentler voice, Hereric declared to them that the Son of God

had risen from the dead to save all, of every nation under heaven,

who turned to Him for comfort and help in the hour of death. When he

stopped there was not one present, from the King downwards, who was not

willing to grant anything the Atheling might ask."

"Nay," said Hereric, "our Godric goes too far. I was but the

instrument to convey Augustine's meaning in English words." "It was

not the words," persisted Godric; "it was the gracious person that

delivered the discourse, and the way he spoke the words, that won

all hearts. Say, my brothers, who was it that deserves the praise?"

"Hereric! Hereric!" they all shouted, Forthere more vociferously than

the rest. "It is the partial voice of love," resumed Hereric, "which

methinks is a little beyond reason. Say no more of me, I pray." "We

must speak out," said Forthere, "for the jealous monks will not put

thy name into their chronicle, it will be Augustine who did it all."

Hereric looked distressed, and the subject was dropped. "We all marched

to Canterbury," he continued, "and as we drew near the city, with the

cross raised on high, Augustine caused another litany to be sung. We

were temporarily lodged in a house, where the Prior at once established

and put in force the _Regula Monachorum_ of St. Benedict, in use at

St. Andrew's on the Caelian Hill. As the monks were unable to preach

intelligibly, they had to be contented with good works for a time."

"Yes," said the incorrigible Godric, "they have resorted to signs and

wonders and miraculous cures. Augustine performed more miracles in the

short time he was at Canterbury than he ever dared to attempt during

his former life, under the eye of Gregory at Rome. I can work some of

them myself." "So can I," added Forthere, "and I know very well how

others are done." The Atheling took no notice of this interruption.

"There is," he went on, "on the east side of this city a church built

by the Romans, and dedicated to St. Martin, of whom we all heard at

the Gate of the Twins outside Amiens, when we were in the power of

Mystacon. Here the Frankish Bishop performs Christian services for the

Queen. Here the monks say masses and baptize, and Ethelbert himself has

submitted to the rite of baptism. But the people hold back, encouraged

by Eadbald. Augustine himself is not here. He has hurried back to

France to be consecrated by the Bishop of Arles; but before he went

he had obtained from the King the grant of another old Roman church,

which he has dedicated to St. Peter and St. Paul, and where he has

begun to build a monastery. It was there that you met old Peter, who is

to be the first Abbot. I have promised to remain here until Augustine

returns as Bishop, and until I have taught Laurentius and Peter enough

English to enable them to preach to the people. Godric has promised

to stay with me, and I know Forthere will also. You all need rest.

Besides, our absence has been long, and we have heard no news. I have

indeed received a rumour that Ella, our King, is dead, and that our

country has been seized by the Bernicians. I fear that it will be a

sad home-coming for most of us. Let us give ourselves a little time

for preparation to bear our sorrows manfully. I would fain desire that

we should all come home together." They unanimously agreed to wait

for Hereric, and to go home in his company. It was a great joy to be

together again, not only with no one missing, but with one more, the

faithful Bassus, added to their company.

"At one time," said Godric, "I feared that our Atheling would become a

monk, but now I know that he never will." "Wherefore?" asked the rest.

"Because he is in love," replied Godric. Hereric blushed crimson when

Godric went on to declare that the name of Braga was often on his lips

when he slept. "Truly," said Porlor, "the Prince used to be very fond

of our little sister. If he ever had a present to give, it was always

for Braga. Do you remember, Coelred, the day when Alca came to visit

us at Stillingfleet? That very day Hereric presented little Braga with

a pretty scarf. I think it was the last gift she received from any of

us." "Hereric is not the only one," said Forthere, wishing to turn

attention from the Atheling. "Lilla is also in love, if words spoken

in sleep are to be so explained. Twice have I heard him whispering

the name of Bergliot." "'Tis true," said Coelred, "that the young

Princess's last message was for our Oswith, when she left us on that

fatal day." So the light talk went on, full of joyous reminiscences

of home and friends; until Hereric said that they must all speak

reverently of their loved ones, if they spoke at all, until they knew

certainly what had befallen.

During the days that they were waiting for Augustine, the companions

helped Peter in his work at the monastery, and Hereric was a good deal

employed in teaching English to the monks. In the long summer evenings

they engaged in conversations. The most important took place a few days

before they all set out for home, and was chiefly conducted by Porlor.

He dwelt upon their peculiar position among their countrymen, and

suggested rules of conduct. "We are like men apart," he said. "I have

felt already in my intercourse with the Æskingas that there is a sort

of gulf between us. Our knowledge is immeasurably greater than that of

our people. This is not due to any merit of our own, but simply to what

has happened. But it is a fact. We are as if we had been born in some

later age."

"I do not think that Godric and I know very much more than our

countrymen," said Forthere. "It is true," replied Porlor, "that there

are differences amongst us. Hereric is as learned as any monk. Sivel

understands the laws and the arts of the Greeks. Both can read and

write. Lilla and Bassus have acquired a practical knowledge of Roman

strategy. Coelred and I have learnt much in our wanderings. Nor can

Forthere and Godric be left out. They too have stored up knowledge in

their travels and at Rome. No, Forthere; you and Godric are included

in all that I shall say. What I feel is that our knowledge is a gift

from above, but a gift that we must not use for ourselves only. It is

a trust that we are to use for our people, and we must think how it

can best be used. My fear is that if we openly proclaim our greater

knowledge, if we suddenly begin to tell of what we know and to advise,

if we assume that we are wiser than our people, we shall be distrusted,

by many disbelieved, and our power for good will pass away. Remember

Coifi. All men confess that he is more learned than any one else in

Deira, yet who would listen to him in counsel or take his advice? He

talks too much, and is without credit or influence."

The others thought a great deal over what Porlor had said. On

the next evening Lilla continued the discussion. "We have," he

began, "been gifted with rare knowledge and experience, such as

our fellow-countrymen can never possess except through equally

extraordinary accidents. Our gifts are, as Porlor says, a trust to be

used with great care for our country. I have thought long over the

matter, and I believe with him that we shall lose the power we may

surely gain unless we act wisely. What think you, my Coelred?" "My

rede is," said Coelred, "that, accepting the counsel and the warning

of Porlor, we should keep silence until such time as the knowledge

that any of us possesses above that of our countrymen would be useful

to them. Then we should use it, but even then by action rather than by

speech. Such conduct will be very hard to adopt, and we shall need much

counsel amongst ourselves." Hereric added that he agreed with all that

had been said, except that the Princess Alca and their other loved ones

must be told all they knew, withholding nothing. In this all concurred.

Sivel asked Porlor to propose rules of conduct which might serve as

laws for them in this grave matter.

Next day Porlor said, "I have been thinking carefully over a scheme

for us to adopt. We are dear friends, tried by companionship in danger,

in sorrow, in shame, in hardships, and we know and are certain that

our friendship can have no change for ever. We must make a compact to

watch over our gifts for the good of our countrymen. We must often

take counsel with each other how to maintain our credit and influence,

and how to use our gifts prudently and wisely. We will be one body,

devoted to the weal of our countrymen, but in a sense apart. We will

form a _Gemót_ of close friends and brothers for ever." The rede of

Porlor was the judgment of all. They clasped hands upon it, and the

Coelred-_Gemót_ was formed.

Soon afterwards Augustine returned in all the importance of his

episcopal dignity. His head was busy about the things pertaining to

his office. Although as yet he scarcely had a flock, he promptly sent

a long series of puzzling questions to Gregory about the degrees of

kindred within which members of his flock might marry, and on other

abstruse points. He also began to work miracles again, and to quarrel

with the Welsh bishops about the calculation of the date of Easter. He

did not conceal his satisfaction that Hereric was about to leave him,

which surprised the simple-minded Atheling, but which did not surprise

Godric or Forthere. Hereric explained to the King of Kent that he was

a Prince of the house of Deira, and Ethelbert ordered an escort to see

him and his friends as far as the Humber. A message was also sent to

London, to secure hospitality for them from Sledda, the King of Essex.

Ethelbert wished them a cordial farewell. They also had a friendly

parting from their old teachers, Laurentius and Peter, who gave their

blessings.

They first rode to London, then sparsely inhabited, and saw the old

Roman walls, the ruins of the temple of Diana on the hill, and the

_miliarium_ whence all the main roads diverged. Sledda and his wife

Ricula received them well in the ruined old prætorium near the temple,

and sent them on their way with a fresh relay of horses. In two days

they came to the country of the Gainas, and reached Godric's home near

the banks of the Idle. To the boy's great joy he found his old father

Ulchel still alive, but failing, and their meeting was most pathetic.

The friends were received very hospitably, and Bassus, who was ill,

remained behind with Godric until they should be sent for by Coelred.

The rest pressed northwards, with pack-horses bearing the precious

bales. They intended to proceed in a body to Bilbrough, and hear all

the news, bad and good, from their kind old friend Saebald the Fairfax,

before they ventured to seek their homes. Going rapidly along the old

Roman road, they came in sight of the well-known Ingrish Hill with

feelings of deep anxiety.