"What greater happiness can a maiden have than to be the chosen of the
gods?"
But Edas flung his arms about the maid.
"She is too young, too fair to die," said he, his voice breaking with
agony. "Druid, it shall not be."
For a moment the priest stood silent. Then the words fell from his
lips in an angry torrent.
"Art thou a coward, Edas, son of Atli? Must the daughters of the poor
be offered for sacrifices, and shall the mighty ones of the earth
escape? Shall the gods ask the consent of Edas before they select
themselves a holy bride?"
"And thou, Nesta, art thou not a daughter of a race of kings? Is not
the blood of Hu the Mighty in thy veins, the blood of heroes who
feared nought, death least of all. Maiden, I tell thee the gods demand
it. Only by thy death can the Romans be overthrown, and Britain remain
free. And behold the moon is even now in the sky, the hour of
sacrifice is come."
Nesta the Fair flung her arms about her lover and kissed him.
"Farewell, my heart," she cried. "The gods prosper thee, and give thee
a hero's death at last."
In another moment she was gone, and Edas, who knew the power of the
Druids, fell on the ground and sobbed.
The wild warriors hurried on, and gathered in silence about the altar
of sacrifice. There, between the upright stones, was bound the form of
Nesta the Fair. About her were the white-robed Druids, and Caledon,
the priest, stood near her on the altar.
The voice of Caledon rose, and the multitude drew their breaths to
listen.
"To thee, Dread All Giver, Master of Life, and Death, we offer now the
fairest maid in all the Isle of Britain. We give to thee our best
beloved. Better far is it that she should become Thy bride than fall
into the power of Roman ravishers. Deign to accept her blood as the
price of British victory. May our spears be dyed in the blood of the
Eagles, and may the Roman legions be swept away before the rush of our
warriors, even as the leaves scatter before the wind."
So he chanted, and then, as the moonlight fell in a slanting beam upon
the snow-white breasts of Nesta the Fair, he raised the golden knife,
plunged it deep in the maiden's heart, and the spirit of the bride of
Edas passed beyond the mountains to the Land of Rest.
Then Caledon turned to the warriors.
"Sons of Britain," he cried, "the Gods have accepted your sacrifice.
Get ye to your spears. The air is thick with ghosts. The dead heroes
have left their graves, and their spirits sail about the moor. Sing ye
the songs of the heroes who died for Britain. For on the morrow the
blood will flow like water, and it is well that ye know how to die.
The victory will be as the gods decree, but end the battle as it may,
see that the bards have a glorious song to sing of you, and let not
the ghosts of your fathers be ashamed when they greet you in the after
world."
Silently the warriors filed away, and, as they laid themselves to
rest, the bards sang of glorious deeds. Thus passed the night, and on
the morrow Edas the Chief, pale and heavy eyed with weeping, yet loyal
and true to the land he loved, led his men to meet the Roman steel.
Now the British army was gathered upon the level summit of Coombs,
which runs crescent shaped about the northern end of the valley, and
commands the whole land beneath. One glance at this position convinced
the skilful Roman leader of its impregnable character, and of the
impossibility of taking it by direct assault. The rocks at the head of
the basin-like vale presented an unscaleable barrier to the legions.
The Roman general determined to seek some easier path to the summit.
He moved his men to the right, and, working his way up the gentler
slopes about Ludworth, reached the high ground which stands level with
the crest of Coombs. Here, gathering his men in battle array, he
prepared for a final assault upon the British line.
But the British finding that the Romans were not inclined to attempt
the impossible task of scaling the rocks, and seeing no further
advantage in maintaining their position, moved rapidly towards the
west, and met the Romans on the Ludworth moor. Chanting their wild
songs of battle, the warriors charged upon the Roman line. Again and
again the warriors charged, but the legions stood firm, and the
slaughter was horrible to see. The Britons fought for freedom, which
was dearer to them than life, and few who went to battle that day
returned home to tell the tale. It is said that the British army was
annihilated, and certainly that was the last great fight between the
Romans and the Britons which took place in this part of the country.
When the battle was ended the dead were buried in two great groups
upon the field, and mighty cairns of stones were raised above their
graves. These cairns still remain, and are probably the oldest
monuments to British bravery in this district.
The chief Edas was one of the last to fall. He led charge after charge
of his warriors, shouting his wild war cry, until at length, pierced
by many blades, he fell far in front of the British. For a moment or
so he lay as one dead. Then a glad smile spread over his face, and he
sprang to his feet.
"Nesta, my beloved, I come. The gods are just. They will unite us. We
shall dwell together in the Land of Rest. Thus do I win my way to thy
side."
So crying, he gripped his war hatchet, and, rushing full upon the line
of Roman spears, slew until the soldiers made an end of him.
"That was truly a brave man," said the Roman general. "He could not
have died a nobler death had he been a Roman." And having learned the
story of the death of Nesta, he had the two bodies of the lovers
buried in one grave. The Romans encamped in the neighbourhood, and at
night were startled by a wild song which came from the battlefield. It
was Caswallon the bard, who sang above the grave of Edas. And thus he
sang.
"Now have the heroes gone beyond the veil of the Invisible, and the
Land of Ghosts is thronged with the spirits of the brave."
"Edas, the son of Atli, led his warriors to join the hosts of their
forefathers."
"Edas was of the blood of Hu the Mighty; he was glorious to look upon;
fair was his countenance, even as the light of the morning; he was
sturdy of stature as the oak; he was fleet of foot as the deer; his
eye was as the eye of the eagle; men fell before him in the battle."
"He gave his heart to Nesta the Fair. She was the fairest maid in all
Britain. The Gods had need of her."
"The Romans came, who are brave men. But the Britons are still braver.
Every Briton is a warrior."
"Edas, the son of Atli, led his men to the battle. The battle raged,
and the war song of Edas arose. Many brave men died, but the Britons
still fought on. Edas, son of Atli, led the way; he led his warriors
through the gates of death."
"The battle ended. The Romans won. But the Land of Ghosts welcomed the
souls of Edas and his brave Britons."
"The men sleep beneath the cairns amid the heather. But their spirits
sail upon the wind. And they shall watch over Britain until new heroes
shall arise. And the fame of the Eagles shall grow dim before their
fame, and Britain shall conquer, and shall be mightier than Rome."
Such was the song of Caswallon the bard.
It is said that at certain seasons of the year, when the moonlight
falls upon the Coombs Rocks, the ghosts of the ancient heroes marshall
on the battlefield, waving in phantom hands their phantom axes, as
though ready for the coming of the Roman foe. Thus they keep eternal
vigil over the wild land they loved of old.