BEWARE THE VIKING.
"O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,
With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way,
And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies."
Milton.
We left Sigurd and his two followers in the cave in the mountains.
Sigurd, as usual, was restless and eager for further attacks upon the
Normans. So, early next morning, one of his men, in obedience to his
commands, climbed to the top of the mountain for the purpose of
signalling the scattered band, who, since the departure of their leader,
with the wounded chieftain Oswald--narrated previously--had been in
hiding in small companies, or singly, with their wives and children.
This messenger laboriously scaled peak after peak until he mounted the
loftiest eminence of all; from whence, far away in the hazy distance,
summit after summit towered heavenwards, with scarred weird valleys
lying between them, and the placid wood-encircled lakes in goodly number
shining like burnished silver, looking up to heaven, reflecting sun and
cloud in their still depths. The man, ignorant, unlettered, and
uncultured as he was, felt the mighty inspiration; and he stood
passively for a few minutes surveying the scene lying before him. Then
slowly he turned upon his heel until he had faced every point of the
compass, taking in the mighty distances within the circle of these
mountain sentinels, with the magnificent and inspiring solitudes around
on every hand. The cool mountain breeze stirred his long, unkempt locks
and beard; and the air, pure as the unsullied breath of heaven, like an
inspiration thrilled through his lungs, and poured its vitalising energy
through every vein in his body. Not a sound, however, broke from his
lips betokening any sense of admiration or appreciation of what he
looked upon. Only some half-articulated guttural sounds betokened
intense inward satisfaction. But now, in a moment, quick as thought, his
brawny arms unfolded from across his broad chest, and a fierce fire of
rage kindled in his eye; a savage expression also escaped his lips, for
the deep baying of a hound broke upon his ear, and turning, he saw down
in the valley yonder, Norman soldiers putting bloodhounds on the trail
of his chieftain, Sigurd. Instantly, without staying to rear aloft the
beacon, which was to speak to comrades hiding in distant valleys or on
the distant hills, he darted over the shoulder of the hill, and with
long, fleet strides, seemed almost to fly towards the cave, where, in
hiding, he had left his master. On reaching the cave he hurriedly
explained to Sigurd the position of affairs. With a savage exclamation
the chieftain said,--
"Ha! they hunt me with dogs again, as though I were a wolf or a hog.
Well, let them beware! the wild boar of the mountains will find them
more sport than will be pleasant, as he has done many times before! I
suppose it will be a long race, for these Norman sleuthhounds are sure
of scent, and will not be easily shaken off! Forward ye up the burn; we
will go over the head, for there is a trap laid for them up yonder. From
thence we go down into Deepdale, keeping along round the head of
Ulleswater. Ye will get a good start, and may take it easy."
"What will ye do, Jarl? If ye mean to attack these Norman dogs, we would
rather stand by you and share the risk."
"I shall be ruled by fate. Skuld, the Viking's friend, has me in his
keeping; I shall not be slain; but one thing I must do, I must show
myself to them, so as to divert the scent from this place. We must not
let the hounds lead them to our lair here, for it is a snug port in a
storm, and we shall need it for rest many times yet, I fear. When I have
showed myself to them, I shall follow after you. As ye scale the summit
ye may look out; if I need you I will signal, but it is not likely."
Buckling on their swords alone, so as to be lightly equipped, the two
men followed the water-course which marked the dividing line betwixt the
hills on either side, and which, in its turn, was flanked on each hand
by the dense wood stretching for more than a mile further up the burn,
until the inhospitable Zone was reached, where tree and shrub were
pinched and stunted into barrenness by the chill mountain air, and where
shelter only could be obtained by the innumerable and gigantic limestone
boulders, which grimly stood sentinel over the leaping and tumbling
waters. Sigurd hastily stowed away some provisions in a leathern case,
which he strapped over his shoulders. Then, buckling on his belt, from
which his broadsword was suspended, he crept from his hiding-place and
strode upwards through the tangled undergrowth, making for the clear on
the mountain side. His purpose, as we have already said, being to throw
the hounds off the old scent which led to the cave overlooking the tarn,
and to draw them directly after himself; for he was very little dismayed
at the prospect, so confident was he of his own power to keep them at a
safe distance, and weary out, if need be, the Norman band. Having
cleared the wood, he climbed up the hillside for a little way, scanning
carefully the course along which the enemy must come. All was quiet as
yet, so he sat him down to await events. He had not long to wait in this
position, however, ere the cry of the hounds and the shouting of men
smote upon his ear, and he started to his feet. Yonder in the distance,
and coming along the mountain side, he espied a couple of men, each
leading a hound, and a company of thirty or forty Norman men-at-arms
followed after. Climbing upon a knoll, professedly to survey the party,
but in reality to attract attention to himself, he stood for a moment, a
conspicuous figure on the barren hillside, and speedily he was seen by
the Normans, who set up a great shout of exultation as they beheld the
burly figure of their dire foe so nearly in their power. Sigurd waved
his sword defiantly in their faces, and then turned and sped him after
his men, towards the valley's head. Eagerly the Normans followed after,
having Sigurd almost constantly in view; and, as they deemed, soon to be
run down and captured.
As they followed after Sigurd up the valley it grew gradually into a
most desolate and awe-inspiring solitude. All along the mountain summits
the limestone rocks jutted out clear of every vestige of verdure--bare,
bold, ominous, and frowning. The slow, but persistent disintegrating
influences of climate and atmosphere had, through the centuries, slowly
diminished their beetling heads; and all adown their scraggy sides layer
upon layer of rocky fragments testified most eloquently that rugged and
strong as were these rocky eminences, there was a despoiler strong
enough even to cope with their might; whilst in the bottom of the glen
were huge rocks lying where Nature's invisible fingers had toppled them
from the summit. Few living things haunted the place. Yonder, over the
crest of the mountain, a pair of golden eagles were wheeling in circles,
delighting in the strength of their matchless pinions. Here and there a
rabbit might be seen stealing in and out amongst the boulders. Several
carrion crows, with hoarse croak, flitted from boulder to boulder in
ominous expectation of coming carnage. Rich and plentiful had been their
fare since the coming of the Normans, and, with true instinct, these
flying Saxons and pursuing Normans, they knew, were prophetic of
gratification to their base appetites.
On the Normans came, their following after being greatly expedited by a
constant sight of the quarry. For there was no need to be careful, or
anxious lest their hounds lost the trail. Sigurd was not a quarter of a
mile ahead, but in consequence of the ascent, and the rough ground to be
traversed, it represented a good start. He was also a much more powerful
and skilful mountaineer than they were, and with the utmost ease he held
the distance. As they progressed the ascent became steeper and steeper,
wilder and more rugged. Frequently they lost sight of the Viking chief,
as he disappeared behind huge boulders or frowning rocks, only to see
him reappear again on some promontory still higher, from which he would
watch them for a minute or two as they struggled after him, the savage
defiances he shouted falling easily upon their ear. Nearer and nearer,
however, they came towards the head of this rugged and water-furrowed
gorge. Running along the topmost ridge of the hill on either side of the
cleft, down which the water rushed, was a long line of steep beetling
crags, bare, jutting, verdureless rocks, well-nigh impossible to scale,
and involving a wide circuit to outflank. The waters, through countless
generations, with unceasing rush and swirl, had shorn these flinty
limestone rocks asunder in one steep slit from top to bottom; and to
track the "mad Saxon"--as Sigurd was called by the Normans--through this
weird crevice, was to penetrate a mere fissure between steep and
overhanging rocks on either side, and so full of twists that the path
was frequently completely hidden a couple of yards in advance. The Saxon
knew his ground well.
Not so these Normans; but, enough for them, their foe was a flying foe,
and they were numerous and consequently valorous. Ignoring completely
the many lessons of personal valour and mad daring this man had taught
them in the past, without pause they boldly followed after, the hounds
foaming at the mouth and tugging at the leash. 'Twas a fearsome gap to
enter, and they had not proceeded far when a jutting crag projected, and
the waters were compelled to make a circuit in order to flow round it.
With a deep bay, and an eager plunge in the turbid, rushing waters--for
he scented blood--the hound which led the party dashed past the
projection, eagerly dragging the Norman who followed after and held him.
But a blow of Sigurd's sword cut the hound clean in two, and a second
blow clave the Norman who held him. With a great shriek, a
terror-stricken cry, and without pretence of defence, they turned in an
eager scrambling retreat, each caring only for himself, and leaving the
rearmost to the mercy of the savage giant who followed after. When they
reached the open ground, where in numbers they could assail their foe,
no foe was in sight. Sigurd had exhausted his opportunity and was gone.
Who now would be first to enter again, and force this wild man from his
lair? Alas! not one! There was, however, no time to lose, and the
Normans were consumed with impotent rage. So some of them hurried round
by the end of the crags, whilst some scaled the face of the cliff, each
and all endeavouring, with utmost speed, to come upon the rocks above.
This was done eventually, and, swarming to the brink of the rift, many
heads endeavoured cautiously to peep over and down into the
water-course, intensely hoping, but almost fearing, to set eyes upon
their foe. But no Saxon was to be seen. They then rushed along the sides
of the fissure, peeping down as they ran, and making sure that their
victim was safely entrapped in his lair after all. But there was not a
trace of him. On and on they rushed, over-lapping each other in turns,
until, eventually, they came to the very summit, where the water-course
had completely run out into a mere hollow, a deep, spongy marsh or bog.
Hastily overtopping the hill, they eagerly looked down into the valley
beyond. With wild execrations of rage they beheld the object of their
direst hatred and fear moving down the mountain side with long, swinging
strides, nearly a mile ahead, and immediately he disappeared in a dense
wood, which seemed to stretch out its sheltering arms to the fugitive.
Sigurd was now joined by his two comrades, and together they pushed on
for two or three miles through the forest, eventually rounding the head
of Lake Ulleswater, and patiently climbing the steep headland on the
opposite side of the lake. Here they halted for a while to rest and eat;
but they were soon again roused to action by the voices of men and hound
persistently following after. For the Normans were enraged, and, with
the remaining hound, they continued mile after mile to track their arch
enemy. Sigurd and his men, at a steady trot, continued to lead the
chase, covering another five or six miles down the side of the lake
without halting.
"Shall we keep up the race until we weary them out, Jarl?" remarked one
of the men to Sigurd.
"No, I have another purpose in view; but this long race, with the taste
of steel in the middle of it, will do them good."
"Ye do not purpose making for the cave, Jarl, do ye? There are not half
a dozen men there, and we are no match for this company. Then there are
the women and children to be thought of."
"No, that will not do at present. The boat will be safely moored at the
foot of Hawks' Cliff, will it not, think ye?"
"Yes, I doubt not," was the reply. "I see now, Jarl. It is very good. To
slip the noose so deftly when the Normans think to hang us is well
thought of."
On for a little while the three continued, until coming to the
rendezvous known to them as Hawks' Cliff--stupendous rocks shorn down
with well-nigh a perpendicular face and overhanging the lake. Down these
rocks, which required a cool head, deft feet, and a knowledge of the
giddy path, these three swiftly descended, until the water was reached,
where a boat was found snugly moored beneath the sheltering arms of the
trees which fringed the water's edge. Into this boat the three stepped,
and as the pursuers drew near they pulled away from the shore, making
for the opposite side of the lake. Here was a masterly manoeuvre,
completely foiling the enemy. For whether they went round by the bottom
of the lake, or retraced their steps by the head, it meant a start of
ten or twelve miles to the fugitives; and with the day wearing on, and
the pursuers wearied and fagged, the chase was manifestly closed for the
day, with one more futile attempt to destroy this redoubtable enemy, who
unweariedly persisted in exacting bloody tribute from their ranks,
disdaining every overture of reconciliation, and defying their utmost
efforts to subdue him.