There lay many a man
Marr'd by the javelins,
Men of the Northland
Shot over shield.
BATTLE OF BRUNANBURH.
Noon found Roland and his horsemen still waiting for the ox-train at the
head of the valley. Hours since, the last files of the main host had
wound away up the wild gorges of Ibaneta.
From the bank where he was sitting with Olvir, Roland sprang up for the
twentieth time, to peer down the valley.
"By my sword, brother," he said, "you 'll soon be wishing you had gone
on with your sea-wolves. By now they are resting over in the Nive
valley."
"What odds? Are you not here with me? I might wish for the little vala
also; yet this is not unpleasant," replied Olvir; and he called the
black Arab courser which Roland had given him, to stroke the beast's
starred forehead. But Roland walked to and fro restlessly.
"We cannot pass the fells in the dark," he said.
"True; yet there is still good time, and--the wains come now!"
"That creaking? One can hear them creak a mile or more."
"Not from where we stand. They 'll soon wheel into view."
"A true seer! There comes the first ox-span, and Anselm waving to us.
It is well he rides with the train, else we should never have seen them.
None but oxen could have come at all with wains so laden."
"Tribute gold of a dozen burgs and all the plunder of the Ebro valley!"
muttered Olvir.
"Not all, brother. Your sea-wolves bear theirs upon their own
shoulders."
"Where it is safest. They 'll yield it with life,--no sooner."
"One and all, they 're welcome to their loot, and welcome to bear it. I
trust mine in Anselm's care."
"Mine is yet safer. My Saracen gems lie in Floki's bosom. What thief
would risk the bill of the Crane?"
"Only one utterly reckless of life. But why do we talk of safety? We
have put even Kasim behind us. Would to Heaven we 'd first met the
traitor! Yet now all that is past. We go home to enjoy our war-loot."
"Rather, to push on to wilder war-fields."
"Ah, brother, if only we may ride together! Yet I fear that his Majesty
may leave me on the Garonne, or send me back to my Breton Mark."
"You shall go Rhineward with us, though I bend knee for the favor."
"We shall soon see. Now to horse. The oxen press upon us."
"To horse, and forward!" the command passed down the waiting ranks.
Four thousand heavy-armed Franks swung into the saddle; four thousand
war-steeds wheeled into column. The ancient Roman way shook with the
tread of hoofs. At the head of the column the black Arabs pranced and
curvetted, no less pleased than their riders to be off, after the long
wait.
"Now we fare homeward!" exclaimed Roland, and he gazed up joyfully at
the towering peaks and precipices. But a sudden shadow fell on Olvir's
face.
"Homeward!" he echoed. "I trust it may not yet be the homeward faring
for me."
"Saint Michael, no! Surely, there is nothing now to draw you back into
your frozen North. As to your ships, we 'll sail them around into the
Rhine."
"My ships will soon be sailing the North Sea; but they may steer for
another haven than Rhine Mouth. My sea-wolves are fairly glutted with
plunder, and I dread lest these fells recall too well the cliffs of our
Trondir fiords."
"But what if the little vala bids her warriors stay? Never doubt,
brother; we 'll sail to the North as we sailed to the South,--unless the
king sails with us."
"Not he. You Franks are not fond of brine. But with Rothada aboard, we
could hold fast all the crews,--Dane and Norse alike."
"I could swear to that. And we shall soon put her power to the test.
By nightfall we will overtake the host, and can tell the little maiden
of our wish."
"Before nightfall! Already we scale the pass, and Anselm urges on the
ox-drovers. Their beasts follow close upon our rear."
"Yet, at the best, they 'll drag their wains all too slowly up these
steep gorges," grumbled Roland. "How the grim cliffs tower above us!
Here is fitting abode for fiends and evil sprites."
"Rather, for evil-minded Vascons! Look above in the cleft. I saw the
glint of steel."
"The spear of a bear-hunter. The sullen mountaineer halts in the chase
to watch us pass."
"I saw more spears than one! By Thor! I'm minded to scale the cliff."
"To what end? At the worst, it is only a band of Vascon thieves lying
in wait to cut off stragglers."
"Were my vikings here, we 'd not pass by this wasp nest."
"Ride on. The gnarl-faced thieves will not even fall upon the tail of
the rearguard, if the men keep close. It would not mend matters should
we seek to climb the cleft. My horsemen are no more crag-bred than am I.
In their heavy war-gear--"
"Come, then. But first, send back warning to Eggihard and Anselm."
Roland turned and gave the command to the first of his horsemen. Then
his black stallion clattered on up the steep ascent, side by side with
the black courser.
For some time the sword-brothers rode in silence. Olvir, with the
delight of one bred among fells, was drinking in eagerly the wild and
rugged beauty of the pass. The Frank, however, was depressed in spirit,
half awed by that which most pleased his Norse mate. He sighed with
relief when the road began to wind about the towering mass of
Altobiscar.
"Saint Michael!" he cried; "here's a landmark to pass with joy! Now we
shall soon be looking down upon the gentle valley of the Nive."
"I said true. Even at this pace twilight will see the last of
Eggihard's Neustrians trailing into camp."
"Ah, brother, that will be a merrier return to the north slopes than I
could hope for when we marched from the Garonne. Those were bitter
days--"
"Speak no more of that ill time, Roland,--nor of the maiden. Never
again shall doubt come between us. Our hearts are now one."
"Even to the end of all things."
"In life!--in death!" cried Olvir, so fervently that the echoing cliffs
rang with the words: "_life in death!--in death!--death!_"
Roland shuddered.
"God's mercy!" he cried. "Hark how the crag-fiends mock!"
"_Hark--fiends mock!--fiends mock!--mock!_" called back the echoes.
"It is nothing," laughed Olvir. "Whoever the rock-dwellers may
be,--kobold or scrat, troll or dwarf,--they never do harm. In my
bairnhood I would often linger in the glens where they dwelt, to jeer at
them."
"Truly, yours was a wild boyhood, Olvir. You have yet told me little of
it."
"A merry bairnhood, though Otkar's was a heavy hand."
"That I can well believe. Tell me more of your tomb life."
"Tell me, rather, of your swart Bretons, and of the Frisian vikings,
who, you say, settled along the coast of southern Neustria in the olden
days."
"Such is the tale. But I am not in the mood for talk. I would rather
hear of your wild Norse land."
"Then look well at these crags and heights,--most of all at the great
snow-peak. Let this rough way be instead the smooth ship-path,--the
fiord; and on either hand the foam-white torrents leaping from the
heights. Such is my home."
"I choose, then, the oak forest, with quiet hill and dale, where, if you
come upon sprites, the worst will be some gentle swan-maiden, combing
her hair by the brookside."
"Or a werwolf lurking in the gloom to seize the unwary hunter."
"Well cast! But I 've yet to see either swan-maiden or werwolf; whereas
your crag-fiends that mock with witless mimicry--ay! and peer down from
the cliff brink-- Look, brother!"
"Thor! that's no fiend. A Saracen without turban!"
"Saracen? How should they--"
"An onfall! Look ahead!"
"A wall--the gorge is walled!"
"And beyond--black banners! By Loki, the poisoner has snared us! Now
are we fated, brother! From the heights men will cast down rocks."
"God help us! We cannot stand; nor, with foes on the cliff, can we
cross that wall."
"Sound your horn. To turn back may alone save us."
"Not even that, if there are many of the traitors," replied Roland; yet
he raised his horn. The gorge re-echoed to the blast.
From end to end the long line of horsemen wavered and halted, amazed at
the note. But a second blast sent them wheeling back to the rear.
Cries of alarm and bewilderment burst out all along their scattered
ranks. Those nearest the ox-wains shouted to the drovers to turn back.
But the Vascons goaded their beasts on into the jam of backward-wheeling
Franks.
Then, when all in the gorge was wildest flurry and confusion, high up
the steep slopes and along the cliff crests a thousand horns brayed out
the battle-note, and in a twinkling the heights swarmed with armed
Vascons.
"Lost! all is lost!" cried Roland.
"Thor aid! We die, brother; but we die as men. Ho, Rhine wolves! turn!
turn again! We cross the wall!"
The wild cry roused the great war-count from his despair. Out flashed
Ironbiter, and the black stallion bounded after his fellow.
"Christ and king! Christ and king! Upon the pagans! Follow me,
Franks!"
A hundred or more riders wheeled at the call, to charge after their
leader. And as they charged, the gorge behind them darkened with clouds
of spears and arrows, with avalanches of rocks and tree-trunks. From
van to rear a shriek went up from the host,--a wail of despair, soon
lost in the screams and groans of mangled victims.
Little did the heavy Northern armor avail its bearers. Neither shield
nor hauberk nor helmet of bronze or iron could withstand the ponderous
Vascon missiles. The very completeness of the Frankish war-gear was
fatal, for its weight impeded the efforts of the warriors to escape the
trap. Penned in the gorge like sheep for the slaughter, the Franks
charged back, to trample their fellows behind, or vainly sought to scale
the heights after the nimble Vascon drovers.
Pierced through by arrows and darts, mangled by logs and stones, the
doomed warriors fought and trampled one upon another, in frenzied
struggles to escape that terrible downpour. But above them the Vascons
mocked their cries for mercy with yells of triumph, and drowned their
pitiful shrieks with the crash of the war-hail.
Summoned by Anselm's horn to guard the treasure from the pilfering
drovers, Eggihard and his Neustrians rushed forward among the ox-wains,
only to share in the fate of the Frankish horse. When they turned again
to fly, they found the way behind them bristling with pikes and spears.
The laggard Asturians and Navarrese, silently trailing the host, had
closed upon the rear, eager to share the Moslem plunder and to avenge
the ruined walls of Pampeluna.
In the heart of that steel-leaved thicket fell Eggihard the High
Steward, valiantly striving to cut a way for his Neustrians out of the
shambles.
But the greater number of the footmen shrank back before the advancing
spear-points, to perish on the heaps of slaughtered beasts and men.
Soon Anselm and a score of followers fled alone before the advance of
the Hispano-Goths; while from every mountain cleft and slope the Vascons
clambered down to snatch their blood-drenched booty from beneath the
mass of torn and shattered victims.