Beat the drums! They come, they come! They have all sworn, and all
the same oath, never to return to Castile without the captive
count, their lord.
They have his marble statue in a chariot, and are resolved never to
turn back until they see the statue itself turn back.
And in token that the first man who retraces his steps will be
regarded as a traitor, they have all raised their right hand and
taken an oath.
* * * * *
And they marched toward Arlançon as swiftly as the oxen which drag
the chariot could go; they tarry no more than does the sun.
Burgos is deserted; only the women and children remain behind; and
so too in the suburbs. They talk, as they go, of horses and
falcons, and question whether they should free Castile from the
tribute she pays Leon.
And before they enter Navarre, they meet upon the frontier....
_Old Spanish Romance._
While the preceding conversation was going on in one of the forests on
the outskirts of Lake Miösen, the rebels, divided into three columns,
left Apsyl-Corh lead-mine by the chief entrance, which opens, on a level
with the ground, in a deep ravine.
Ordener, who, in spite of his desire for a closer acquaintance with
Kennybol, had been placed under Norbith’s command, at first saw nothing
but a long line of torches, whose beams, vying with the early light of
dawn, were reflected back from hatchets, pitchforks, mattocks, clubs
with iron heads, huge hammers, pickaxes, crowbars, and all the rude
implements which could be borrowed from their daily toil, mingled with
genuine weapons of warfare, such as muskets, pikes, swords, carbines,
and guns, which showed that this revolt was a conspiracy. When the sun
rose, and the glow of the torches was no more than smoke, he could
better observe the aspect of this strange army, which advanced in
disorder, with hoarse songs and fierce shouts, like a band of hungry
wolves in pursuit of a dead body. It was divided into three parts. First
came the mountaineers from Kiölen, under command of Kennybol, whom they
all resembled in their dress of wild beasts’ skins, and in their bold,
savage mien. Then followed the young miners led by Norbith, and the
older ones under Jonas, with their broad-brimmed hats, loose trousers,
bare arms, and blackened faces, gazing at the sun in mute surprise.
Above this noisy band floated a confused sea of scarlet banners, bearing
various mottoes, such as, “Long live Schumacker!” “Let us free our
Deliverer!” “Freedom for Miners!” “Liberty for Count Griffenfeld!”
“Death to Guldenlew!” “Death to all Oppressors!” “Death to d’Ahlefeld!”
The rebels seemed to regard these standards rather in the light of a
burden than an ornament, and they were passed frequently from hand to
hand when the color-bearers were tired, or desired to mingle the
discordant notes of their horns with the psalm-singing and shouts of
their comrades.
The rear-guard of this strange army consisted of ten or a dozen carts
drawn by reindeer and strong mules, doubtless meant to carry ammunition;
and the vanguard, of the giant, escorted by Hacket, who marched alone,
armed with a mace and an axe, followed at a considerable distance, with
no small terror, by the men under command of Kennybol, who never took
his eyes from him, as if anxious not to lose sight of his diabolical
leader during the various transformations which he might be pleased to
undergo.
This stream of insurgents poured down the mountainside with many
confused noises, filling the pine woods with the sound of their horns.
Their numbers were soon swelled by various reinforcements from
Sund-Moer, Hubfallo, Kongsberg, and a troop of iron-workers from Lake
Miösen, who presented a singular contrast to the rest of the rebels.
They were tall, powerful men, armed with hammers and tongs, their broad
leather aprons being their only shield, a huge wooden cross their only
standard, as they marched soberly and rhythmically, with a regular tread
more religious than military, their only war-song being Biblical psalms
and canticles. They had no leader but their cross-bearer, who walked
before them unarmed.
The rebel troop met not a single human being on their road. As they
approached, the goat-herd drove his flocks into a cave, and the peasant
forsook his village; for the inhabitant of the valley and plain is
everywhere alike,--he fears the bandit’s horn as much as the bowman’s
blast.
Thus they traversed hills and forests, with here and there a small
settlement, followed winding roads where traces of wild beasts were more
frequent than the footprint of man, skirted lakes, crossed torrents,
ravines, and marshes. Ordener recognized none of these places. Once only
his eye, as he looked up, caught upon the horizon the dim, blue outline
of a great sloping rock. He turned to one of his rude companions, and
asked, “My friend, what is that rock to the south, on our right?”
“That is the Vulture’s Neck, Oëlmœ Cliff,” was the reply.
Ordener sighed heavily.