Some days after the tragical event with which the last chapter closed,
the ships of the Saxons were assembled in the wide waters of Conway;
and on the small fore-deck of the stateliest vessel, stood Harold,
bareheaded, before Aldyth, the widowed Queen. For the faithful bard
had fallen by the side of his lord; . . . the dark promise was
unfulfilled, and the mangled clay of the jealous Gryffyth slept alone
in the narrow bed. A chair of state, with dossel and canopy, was set
for the daughter of Algar, and behind stood maidens of Wales, selected
in haste for her attendants.
But Aldyth had not seated herself; and, side by side with her dead
lord's great victor, thus she spoke:
"Woe worth the day and the hour when Aldyth left the hall of her
fathers and the land of her birth! Her robe of a queen has been rent
and torn over an aching heart, and the air she has breathed has reeked
as with blood. I go forth, widowed, and homeless, and lonely; but my
feet shall press the soil of my sires, and my lips draw the breath
which came sweet and pure to my childhood. And thou, O Harold,
standest beside me, like the shape of my own youth, and the dreams of
old come back at the sound of thy voice. Fare thee well, noble heart
and true Saxon. Thou hast twice saved the child of thy foe--first
from shame, then from famine. Thou wouldst have saved my dread lord
from open force, and dark murder; but the saints were wroth, the blood
of my kinsfolk, shed by his hand, called for vengeance, and the
shrines he had pillaged and burned murmured doom from their desolate
altars. Peace be with the dead, and peace with the living! I shall
go back to my father and brethren; and if the fame and life of child
and sister be dear to them, their swords will never more leave their
sheaths against Harold. So thy hand, and God guard thee!"
Harold raised to his lips the hand which the Queen extended to him;
and to Aldyth now seemed restored the rare beauty of her youth; as
pride and sorrow gave her the charm of emotion, which love and duty
had failed to bestow.
"Life and health to thee, noble lady," said the Earl. "Tell thy
kindred from me, that for thy sake, and thy grandsire's, I would fain
be their brother and friend; were they but united with me, all England
were now safe against every foe, and each peril. Thy daughter already
awaits thee in the halls of Morcar; and when time has scarred the
wounds of the past, may thy joys re-bloom in the face of thy child.
Farewell, noble Aldyth!"
He dropped the hand he had held till then, turned slowly to the side
of the vessel, and re-entered his boat. As he was rowed back to
shore, the horn gave the signal for raising anchor, and the ship,
righting itself, moved majestically through the midst of the fleet.
But Aldyth still stood erect, and her eyes followed the boat that bore
away the secret love of her youth.
As Harold reached the shore, Tostig and the Norman, who had been
conversing amicably together on the beach, advanced towards the Earl.
"Brother," said Tostig, smiling, "it were easy for thee to console the
fair widow, and bring to our House all the force of East Anglia and
Mercia." Harold's face slightly changed, but he made no answer.
"A marvellous fair dame," said the Norman, "notwithstanding her cheek
be somewhat pinched, and the hue sun-burnt. And I wonder not that the
poor cat-king kept her so close to his side."
"Sir Norman," said the Earl, hastening to change the subject, "the war
is now over, and, for long years, Wales will leave our Marches in
peace.--This eve I propose to ride hence towards London, and we will
converse by the way."
"Go you so soon?" cried the knight, surprised. "Shall you not take
means utterly to subjugate this troublesome race, parcel out the lands
among your thegns, to hold as martial fiefs at need, build towers and
forts on the heights, and at the river mouths?--where a site, like
this, for some fair castle and vawmure? In a word, do you Saxons
merely overrun, and neglect to hold what you win?"
"We fight in self-defence, not for conquest, Sir Norman. We have no
skill in building castles; and I pray you not to hint to my thegns the
conceit of dividing a land, as thieves would their plunder. King
Gryffyth is dead, and his brothers will reign in his stead. England
has guarded her realm, and chastised the aggressors. What need
England do more? We are not like our first barbarous fathers, carving
out homes with the scythe of their saexes. The wave settles after the
flood, and the races of men after lawless convulsions."
Tostig smiled, in disdain, at the knight, who mused a little over the
strange words he had heard, and then silently followed the Earl to the
fort.
But when Harold gained his chamber, he found there an express, arrived
in haste from Chester, with the news that Algar, the sole enemy and
single rival of his power, was no more. Fever, occasioned by
neglected wounds, had stretched him impotent on a bed of sickness, and
his fierce passions had aided the march of disease; the restless and
profitless race was run.
The first emotion which these tidings called forth was that of pain.
The bold sympathise with the bold; and in great hearts, there is
always a certain friendship for a gallant foe. But recovering the
shock of that first impression, Harold could not but feel that England
was free from its most dangerous subject--himself from the only
obstacle apparent to the fulfilment of his luminous career.
"Now, then, to London," whispered the voice of his ambition. "Not a
foe rests to trouble the peace of that empire which thy conquests, O
Harold, have made more secure and compact than ever yet has been the
realm of the Saxon kings. Thy way through the country that thou hast
henceforth delivered from the fire and sword of the mountain ravager,
will be one march of triumph, like a Roman's of old; and the voice of
the people will echo the hearts of the army; those hearts are thine
own. Verily Hilda is a prophetess; and when Edward rests with the
saints, from what English heart will not burst the cry, 'LONG LIVE
HAROLD THE KING?'"