whose name was Birkabeyn. Three children he had, who were as dear
to him as life itself. One of these was a son of five years, and he
was called Havelok. The other two were daughters, and one was named
Swanborough and the other Elflad. Now when King Birkabeyn most wished
to live, the hand of death was suddenly laid upon him. As soon as he
realized that his days in this life were over, he looked about for some
one to take care of his three young children, and no one seemed so fit
for this office as the Earl Godard. To Godard, therefore, he intrusted
the care of his three children, and Godard faithfully promised to guard
them until the boy Havelok was old enough to become king of Denmark.
Scarcely, however, was the body of King Birkabeyn laid away in
the grave, before the faithless Godard began to plot evil, and he
determined to be himself king of Denmark. So he took Havelok and his
two sisters and cast them into prison in a great stone castle.
In this prison the poor little children almost perished from cold and
hunger, but they little knew that still worse misfortune was in store
for them. For one day Earl Godard went to the castle where they were
imprisoned, and Havelok and his sisters fell on their knees before him
and begged for mercy. “What do you want?” said Godard. “Why all this
weeping and howling?” And the children said they were very hungry. “No
one comes to give us of food and drink the half part that we need. We
are so hungry that we are well nigh dead.”
When Godard heard this, his heart was not touched, but, on the
contrary, it grew harder within him. He led the two little girls away
with him, and took away the lives of these innocent children; and he
intended to do the same with young Havelok. But the terrified boy again
fell on his knees before Godard and cried: “Have pity upon me, Earl
Godard! Here I offer homage to you. All Denmark I will give to you if
you will but let me live. I will be your man, and against you never
raise spear nor shield.”
Now when Godard heard this and when he looked down at young Havelok,
the rightful heir to the throne of Denmark, his arm grew weak, though
his heart was as hard as ever. He knew that if he was ever to become
king, Havelok must die; but he could not bring himself to the point of
taking the life of his lawful sovereign.
So he cast about in his mind for some other way to get rid of him. He
sent for a poor fisherman whose name was Grim. Now Grim was Godard's
thrall, or slave, and was bound to do whatever Godard asked of him.
When Grim had come to him, Godard said: “Thou knowest, Grim, thou art
my thrall, and must do whatever I bid thee. To-morrow thou shalt be
free and a rich man if thou wilt take this boy that I give thee and
sink him to-night deep down in the sea. All the sin I will take upon
myself.”
Grim was not a bad man, but the promise of his freedom was a sore
temptation, and besides, Godard, his master, had said that he would be
responsible for the deed. So Grim took Havelok, not knowing, of course,
who he was, and put him in a sack and carried him off to his little
cottage by the seashore, intending that night to row out to deep water
and throw him overboard.
Now when it came midnight, Grim got up from his bed, and bade his wife,
Dame Leve, bring a light for he must go out and keep his promise to
Earl Godard. But when Leve went into the other room, where Havelok was
lying bound and gagged, what was her surprise to see that there was
already a light in the room. Right over Havelok's head it seemed to
stand; but where it came from, she could not guess.
“Stir up, Grim,” she cried, “and see what this light is here in our
cot!”
And Grim came running in, and he too saw the strange light and was as
surprised as Leve had been. Then he uncovered Havelok, and there on his
right shoulder he saw a birthmark, bright and fair, and knew from this,
right away, that this boy was Havelok, the son of King Birkabeyn. When
Grim realized this, he fell on his knees before Havelok and said, “Have
mercy on me and on Leve, my wife, here by me! For thou art our rightful
king and therefore in everything we should serve thee.” Then when Grim
had unbound him and had taken the gag out of his mouth, Havelok was a
happy boy again; and the first thing he asked for was something to eat.
And Dame Leve brought bread and cheese, and butter and milk and cookies
and cakes, and for the first time in many a long day Havelok had all he
wanted to eat. Then when Havelok had satisfied his hunger, Grim made a
good bed for him and told him to go to sleep and to fear nothing.
Now the next morning, Grim went to the wicked traitor Godard and
claimed his reward. But little he knew the faithlessness of Godard.
“What!” cried Godard, “wilt thou now be an earl? Go home, and be as
thou wert before, a thrall and a churl. If I ever hear of this again,
I will have thee led to the gallows, for thou hast done a wicked deed.
Home with you, and keep out of my way, if you know what is good for
you!”
When Grim saw this new proof of the wickedness of Earl Godard, he
ran home as fast as he could. He knew that his life was not safe in
Godard's hands, especially if the earl should ever find out that
Havelok was still alive. Grim had hoped to get money from Earl Godard
with which to escape to some other country, but now he saw that he
would have to depend on his own means. Secretly he sold all that he had
and when he had got the ready money for it, he bought him a ship and
painted it with tar and pitch, and fitted it out with cables and oars
and a mast and sail. Not a nail was lacking that a good ship should
have. Last of all Grim put in this ship his good wife Dame Leve, and
his three sons and two daughters and Havelok, and off they sailed to
the open ocean. They had not been sailing very long, however, before a
wind came out of the north and drove them toward England. At the river
Humber they finally reached land, and there on the sand near Lindesey,
Grim drew his ship up on the shore. A little cot he straightway built
for his family; and since this was Grim's home, the town that gradually
grew up there in later days came to be named Grimsby, and if you will
look on the map, you will find that so it is called to this very day.
Now Grim was a very good fisherman, and he decided to make his living
here in England by fishing. Many a good fish he took from the sea, with
net and spear and hook. He had four large baskets made, one for himself
and one for each of his three sons, and when they had caught their
fish, off they carried them to the people in the towns and country,
to sell them. Sometimes they went as far inland as the good town of
Lincoln.
Thus they lived peacefully and happily for ten years or more, and
by this time Havelok was become a youth full grown. But Grim never
told Havelok who he was, nor did he tell any of his three sons or two
daughters. And Havelok soon entirely forgot all about what had happened
to him in Denmark. And so he grew up, happy as the days were long,
and astonishingly healthy and strong. He was big of bone and broad of
shoulder and the equal of a man in strength.
Now after a time, Havelok began to think to himself that Grim was
working very hard to make a living, while he was amusing himself in
ease and idleness. “Surely,” said he to himself, “I am no longer a
boy. I am big and strong, and alone I eat more than Grim and his five
children. It's high time for me to bear baskets and work for my living.
No longer will I stay at home, but to-morrow I too shall go forth and
sell fish.” And so in the morning, as soon as it was light of day, he
put a basket on his back, as the others did, piled high with fish, as
much as a good strong man might carry. But Havelok bore the burden
well, and he sold the fish well, and the money he brought back home
to Grim, every penny of it. Thus Havelok became a fisherman; he went
forth every day with his basket on his back and sold fish, and was the
tallest and strongest monger of them all.
* * * * *
Now it happened after a time that Grim fared not so well With his
fishing. The fish would not come to his nets, and with no fish in the
nets, there was none for the baskets and for market. To make matters
worse, at this same time there was a great famine in the land, and poor
people suffered greatly from lack of food to eat. These were hard times
for Grim and his houseful of children. Yet less for his own did Grim
grieve than for the sturdy Havelok. Moreover, Grim had long thought
that this work of fishing and fish-selling, though good enough for
himself and his three sons, was hardly the right life for Havelok, who,
though he knew nothing about it, was nevertheless a king's son.
“Havelok, my boy,” said he, at length, “it is not well for thee to
dwell here too long with us. Though it will grieve us sorely to have
thee go, out into the world thou must venture, and perhaps there
thou shalt make thy fortune. Here thou seest we are but miserable
fisher-folk; but at Lincoln, the fine city, there thou mayst find some
great man whom thou canst serve. But, alas!” he added, “so poor are we
that thou hast not even a coat wherein to go.”
Then Grim took down the shears from the nail and made Havelok a coat
out of the sail to his boat, and this was Grim's last gift to Havelok.
No hose and no shoes had Havelok to wear, but barefoot and naked,
except for his long coat of sail-cloth, he left his good friends Grim
and Dame Leve and their five children and set out for the town of
Lincoln.
When Havelok reached Lincoln, he wandered about bewildered in the
streets of the city. But nobody seemed to have any use for him; nobody
wanted to exchange the strength of his powerful arms for food to eat.
As he wandered from one street to another, Havelok grew hungrier and
hungrier. By great good chance, however, he passed by the bridge where
the market was, and there stood a great earl's cook, who was buying
fish and meat and other food for the earl's table. Now he had just
finished buying when Havelok happened along, and the cook shouted,
“Porter, porter!” for somebody to come to carry his marketing home.
Instantly ten or a dozen jumped for the chance, for there were plenty
of men looking for work in Lincoln. But Havelok got ahead of them all;
he pushed them this way and that and sent them sprawling head over
heels, and seized hold of the cook's baskets, without so much as a “By
your leave.” Rough and ready was the young Havelok, as strong as a bear
and as hungry as a savage. He made quick time of the journey to the
cook's kitchen, and there he was well fed as pay for his labor.
By the next day, however, Havelok's stomach was again empty. But he
knew the time at which the earl's cook came to the market, and he
waited there for him. Again when the cook had finished buying, he
called out “Porter, porter!” and again the husky Havelok shoved the
rest right and left and carried off the cook's baskets. He spared
neither toes nor heels until he came to the earl's castle and had put
down his burden in the kitchen.
Then the cook, whose name was Bertram, stood there and looked at
Havelok and laughed. “This is certainly a stalwart fellow enough,” he
thought. “Will you stay with me?” he said finally to Havelok. “I will
feed you well, and well you seem to be able to pay for your feeding.”
And Havelok was glad enough to take the offer. “Give me but enough to
eat,” he answered, “and I will build your fires and carry your water,
and I can make split sticks to skin eels with, and cut wood and wash
dishes, and do anything you want me to do.”
The cook told Havelok to sit down and eat as much as he wanted, and you
can be sure Havelok was not slow in accepting this invitation. When
he had satisfied his hunger, Havelok went out and filled a large tub
of water for the kitchen, and, to the cook's great astonishment, he
carried it in, without any help, in his own two hands. Such a cook's
knave had never been seen in that kitchen before!
So Havelok became a kitchen-boy in a great earl's castle. He was always
gay and laughing, blithe of speech and obliging, for he was young and
thoughtless and healthy, and happy so long as he had something to put
into his stomach. He played with the children and they all loved him,
for, with all his great strength and stature, he was as gentle as the
gentlest child among them. And Bertram, the cook, seeing that Havelok
had nothing to wear except his old sail-cloth coat that Grim had made
for him, bought Havelok a brand-new coat and hose and shoes; and when
Havelok was dressed up in his new clothes, there was not a finer fellow
in the whole country. He stood head and shoulders above the rest when
the youths came together for their games at Lincoln, and no one ever
tried a round at wrestling with Havelok without being thrown almost
before he knew it. He was the tallest and strongest man in all that
region, and, what was better, he was as good and gentle as he was
strong.
Now, as it happened, the earl in whose kitchen Havelok served as
kitchen-boy to Bertram the cook was that very Earl Godrich to whom old
King Athelwold had entrusted his daughter, Goldborough, for protection.
Goldborough was now a beautiful young princess, and Godrich realized
that something must soon be done for her. But Godrich had become the
strongest baron in all England; and though he had not forgotten his
promises to Athelwold, little did he think to let the power, to which
he had grown so accustomed, pass into the hands of another. For though
the beautiful Goldborough was now old enough to be made queen, the
traitorous Godrich had decided in his heart that queen she should never
be, but that when he died, his son should be made king after him.
Just about this time it happened that Earl Godrich summoned a great
parliament of all the nobles of England to meet at Lincoln. When the
parliament met, there was a great throng of people there from all over
England, and the bustling city was very gay and lively. Many young men
came thither with their elders, bent on having a good time, strong
lads fond of wrestling and other such games. Now these young men were
amusing themselves one day in one way and another, and finally they
began to “put the stone.” The stone was big and heavy, and it was not
every man who could lift it even as high as his knees. But these strong
fellows who had come to Lincoln in the train of the mighty barons could
lift it up and put it a dozen or more feet in front of them; and the
one who put it the farthest, if it was only an inch ahead of the rest,
he was counted the champion at putting the stone.
Now these stout lads were standing around and boasting about the best
throws, and Havelok stood by listening. He knew nothing about putting
the stone, for he had never done it or seen it done before. But his
master, Bertram the cook, was also there, and he insisted that Havelok
should have a try at it. So Havelok took up the great stone, and at the
first throw, he put it a foot and more beyond the best throw of the
others.
The news of Havelok's record throw in some way spread abroad, how he
had beaten all these strong lads, and how tall and powerful he was. And
finally the knights in the great hall of the castle began speaking of
it, and Earl Godrich listened, for he had suddenly thought of a way to
keep his promise. In a word, it was this: King Athelwold had made him
swear on the Holy Book that he would give his daughter in marriage to
the highest and strongest in the realm of England. Now where could he
find a higher and stronger than this Havelok? He would marry the king's
daughter to this kitchen-boy, and thus, though in a way that the old
king never dreamed of, he would keep his promise and still leave the
road free for himself and his son after him.
Godrich straightway sent for Goldborough, and told her that he had
found a husband for her, the tallest and fairest man in all England.
And Goldborough answered that no man should wed her unless he was a
king or a king's heir.
At this Godrich grew very angry. “Thou shalt marry whom I please!”
he commanded. “Dost thou think thou shalt be queen and lady over me?
I will choose a husband for thee. To-morrow shalt thou wed my cook's
kitchen-boy and none other, and he shall be lord over thee.”
Goldborough wept and prayed; but she could not turn Godrich from his
shameful purpose.
Then Godrich sent for Havelok, and when he had come before him, he
said, “Fellow, do you want a wife?”
“Nay, truly,” said Havelok, “no wife for me! What should I do with a
wife? I have neither clothing nor shoes nor food for her, neither house
nor home to put her in. I own not a stick in the world, and even the
coat I bear on my back belongs to Bertram the cook.”
But Godrich told Havelok he must marry the wife he had chosen for him,
willy-nilly, or he should suffer for it. And finally Havelok, for
fear of his life, consented, and Goldborough was sent for, and the
Archbishop of York came, and soon they were married, one as unwilling
as the other.
But when the wedding was over, and gifts had been given to Goldborough,
rich and plenty, Havelok was perplexed. He beheld the beauty of
Goldborough and was afraid to remain at Godrich's castle for fear of
treachery that might befall her. For Goldborough now had only Havelok
to protect her, since the kitchen-boy had become her lord and master,
and Havelok, with a man's courage, determined to defend her to the best
of his ability. The first thing to do, as it seemed to him, was to go
back to Grim's cottage, there to think over the matter carefully before
acting further. And straightway, in company with Goldborough, he set
out secretly for the little cot by the seashore.
* * * * *
When Havelok and Goldborough came to Grim's house, he found that
there had been many sad changes during the time he had been living
in Lincoln. In the first place, the good Grim had died, and also his
wife, Dame Leve. But the three sons of Grim and his two daughters were
still living at Grimsby, and they still caught the fish of the sea and
carried them about in baskets to sell them. The oldest of these sons
was called Robert the Red, and, of the remaining two, one was named
William Wendout, and Hugh the Raven the other. They were filled with
joy when they found that their foster-brother, Havelok, had come back
to them, and they prepared a fine dinner for him and Goldborough. And
Robert the Red begged Havelok now to stay with them at Grimsby and be
their chief and leader. They promised to serve him faithfully, and
their two sisters were eager to care for all the needs of Goldborough,
his wife. But for the time being, Havelok put them off, for he had not
yet decided what would be the best course for him to follow.
Now that night, as Goldborough lay awake, sad and sorrowful, she was
suddenly aware of a bright light, surrounding, as it seemed, the head
of the sleeping Havelok. Then at the same time, there came a voice, she
could not tell whence, which said to her: “Goldborough, be no longer
sorrowful, for Havelok, who hath wedded thee, is a king's son and heir.
Upon his shoulder he bears a royal birthmark to prove it. The day shall
come when he will be king both in Denmark and in England, and thou
shalt be of both realms queen and lady.”
Now just at this same time, Havelok dreamed a strange dream; and when
he awoke, he told his dream to Goldborough. He dreamed that he was
sitting on a high hill in Denmark, and when he stretched out his arms,
they were so long that they reached to the farthest limits of the
land; and when he drew his arms together to his breast, everything in
Denmark, all the towns, and the country, and the lordly castles, all
cleaved to his arms and were drawn into his embrace. Then he dreamed
that he passed over the salt sea with a great host of Danish warriors
to England, and that all England likewise came into his power.
When Goldborough heard this dream, she thought straightway of the
strange light she had seen over Havelok's head and the voice that she
had heard, and she interpreted it to mean that Havelok should be king
over Denmark and afterward over England.
She knew not how this should come to pass, but unhesitatingly advised
Havelok to prepare to set sail for Denmark. Her plan was this: that
they should buy a ship, and take Grim's three sons, Robert the Red,
William Wendout, and Hugh the Raven, with them, and, when they came to
Denmark, pretend that they were merchants until they could find out
what course to follow. And when this plan was told to the three sons
of Grim, they immediately agreed to it, for they were ready to follow
Havelok wherever he went. And now, also, Havelok for the first time
learned who his father was, and that he was really heir to the throne
of Denmark. For Grim, before he left Denmark, had told all of Havelok's
story to a cousin of his, and she now, for she was still alive and had
come to stay with Grim's family at Grimsby, told Havelok all about Earl
Godard's treachery. Happy indeed was Goldborough when she heard this
story, and they were all more anxious than ever to set out for Denmark.
They got a good ship ready, and it was not long before all were well on
their way.
When the ship reached Denmark, they all went up on land and journeyed
forth until they came to the castle of the great Danish baron, Earl
Ubbe. Now Ubbe had been a good friend of Havelok's father, the former
King Birkabeyn, and a good man and true was he. When they reached
Ubbe's castle, Havelok sent word that they were merchants, come to
trade in Ubbe's country, and, as a present, he sent in to Ubbe a gold
ring with a precious stone in the setting.
When Ubbe had received this generous gift, he sent for Havelok to
come to see him. When the young man came, Ubbe was greatly struck by
Havelok's broad shoulders and sturdy frame, and he said to himself:
“What a pity that this chapman is not a knight! He seems better
fitted to wear a helmet on his head and bear a shield and spear than
to buy and sell wares.” But he said nothing of this to Havelok, and
only invited him to come and dine in the castle and to bring his
wife, Goldborough, with him. And Ubbe promised that no dishonor
should be done either to one or the other, and pledged himself as
their protector. And when the dinner was over, Ubbe, who had taken a
great liking to both Havelok and Goldborough, entrusted them to the
safe-keeping of one of his retainers, a stout and doughty warrior whose
name was Bernard the Brown. To Bernard's house, therefore, Havelok and
Goldborough went, and there too were lodged Robert the Red and William
Wendout and Hugh the Raven.
Now when they had reached Bernard's house, and Bernard and Havelok and
Goldborough were sitting there peacefully at supper, the house was
suddenly attacked by a band of fierce robbers. Travelers were not as
safe in Denmark as they were in England in the days of the strong King
Athelwold, and these robbers, thinking that Havelok must be a very
rich man, since he had given so valuable a ring to the Earl Ubbe, were
come now, a greedy gang, to see if they could get hold of some of his
treasure. Before Bernard and his guests were aware of them, the robbers
had reached the door, and they shouted to Bernard to let them in or
they would kill him. But the valiant Bernard recalled that his guests
were in his safe-keeping; and shouting back that the robbers would
have to get in before they could kill him, he jumped up and put on his
coat of mail and seized an ax and leaped to the doorway. Already the
robbers were battering at the door, and they took a huge boulder and
let it fly against the door, so that it shivered to splinters. Then
Havelok mixed in the fray. He seized a heavy wooden door-tree, which
was used to bar the door, and when the robbers tried to break through
the door, he laid on right and left. It was not long before Robert and
William and Hugh, in the other part of the house, heard the din and
came rushing up; and then the fight was on, fast and furious. Robert
seized an oar and William and Hugh had great clubs, and these, with
Bernard's ax and Havelok's door-tree, made it lively enough for the
robbers. But especially Havelok and his door-tree made themselves felt
there. The robbers, for all they were well armed with shields and good
long swords, were compelled to give way before the flail-like strokes
of Havelok's door-tree. When they saw their comrades falling right and
left, those that were still able to do so took to their legs and ran
away. Some harm they did, however, while the fray lasted, for Havelok
had a severe sword-wound in his side, and from several other gashes the
blood was flowing freely.
In the morning, when Bernard the Brown told Ubbe of the attacks of the
robbers, Ubbe swore that he would bring them to punishment; and he also
took further measures to protect Havelok. When he heard that Havelok
was wounded, he had him brought to his own castle and gave him a room
right next to his own.