river, and this hill King Porsenna took by a sudden attack. Which when
Horatius saw (for he chanced to have been set to guard the bridge, and
saw also how the enemy were running at full speed to the place, and
how the Romans were fleeing in confusion and threw away their arms
as they ran), he cried with a loud voice, "Men of Rome, it is to no
purpose that ye thus leave your post and flee, for if ye leave this
bridge behind you for men to pass over, ye shall soon find that ye
have more enemies in your city than in Janiculum. Do ye therefore
break it down with axe and fire as best ye can. In the meanwhile I,
so far as one man may do, will stay the enemy." And as he spake he ran
forward to the farther end of the bridge and made ready to keep the
way against the enemy. Nevertheless there stood two with him, Lartius
and Herminius by name, men of noble birth both of them and of great
renown in arms. So these three for a while stayed the first onset of
the enemy; and the men of Rome meanwhile brake down the bridge. And
when there was but a small part remaining, and they that brake it down
called to the three that they should come back, Horatius bade Lartius
and Herminius return, but he himself remained on the farther side,
turning his eyes full of wrath in threatening fashion on the princes
of the Etrurians, and crying, "Dare ye now to fight with me? or why
are ye thus come at the bidding of your master, King Porsenna, to rob
others of the freedom that ye care not to have for yourselves?" For a
while they delayed, looking each man to his neighbor, who should first
deal with this champion of the Romans. Then, for very shame, they all
ran forward, and raising a great shout, threw their javelins at him.
These all he took upon his shield, nor stood the less firmly in his
place on the bridge, from which when they would have thrust him by
force, of a sudden the men of Rome raised a great shout, for the
bridge was now altogether broken down, and fell with a great crash
into the river. And as the enemy stayed a while for fear, Horatius
turned him to the river and said, "O Father Tiber, I beseech thee this
day with all reverence that thou kindly receive this soldier and his
arms." And as he spake he leapt with all his arms into the river and
swam across to his own people, and though many javelins of the enemy
fell about him, he was not one whit hurt. Nor did such valor fail to
receive due honor from the city. For the citizens set up a statue of
Horatius in the market-place; and they gave him of the public land so
much as he could plow about in one day. Also there was this honor paid
him, that each citizen took somewhat of his own store and gave it to
him, for food was scarce in the city by reason of the siege.
HOW CINCINNATUS SAVED ROME
ADAPTED BY ALFRED J. CHURCH
It came to pass that the Æquians brake the treaty of peace which they
had made with Rome, and, taking one Gacchus Cloelius for their leader,
marched into the land of Tusculum; and when they had plundered the
country there-abouts, and had gathered together much booty, they
pitched their camp on Mount Ægidus. To them the Romans sent three
ambassadors, who should complain of the wrong done and seek redress.
But when they would have fulfilled their errand, Gracchus the Æquin
spake, saying, "If ye have any message from the Senate of Rome, tell
it to this oak, for I have other business to do;" for it chanced that
there was a great oak that stood hard by, and made a shadow over the
general's tent. Then one of the ambassadors, as he turned to depart,
made reply, "Yes, let this sacred oak and all the gods that are in
heaven hear how ye have wrongfully broken the treaty of peace; and let
them that hear help us also in the day of battle, when we shall avenge
on you the laws both of gods and of men that ye set at nought."
When the ambassadors had returned to Rome the Senate commanded that
there should be levied two armies; and that Minucius the Consul should
march with the one against the Æquians on Mount Ægidus, and that the
other should hinder the enemy from their plundering. This levying the
tribunes of the Commons sought to hinder; and perchance had done so,
but there also came well-nigh to the walls of the city a great host of
the Sabines plundering all the country. Thereupon the people willingly
offered themselves and there were levied forthwith two great armies.
Nevertheless when the Consul Minucius had marched to Mount Ægidus, and
had pitched his camp not far from the Æquians, he did nought for fear
of the enemy, but kept himself within his entrenchments. And when the
enemy perceived that he was afraid, growing the bolder for his lack of
courage, they drew lines about him, keeping him in on every side. Yet
before that he was altogether shut up there escaped from his camp five
horsemen, that bare tidings to Rome how that the Consul, together with
his army, was besieged. The people were sorely dismayed to hear such
tidings; nor, when they cast about for help, saw they any man that
might be sufficient for such peril, save only Cincinnatus. By common
consent, therefore, he was made Dictator for six months, a thing that
may well be noted by those who hold that nothing is to be accounted of
in comparison of riches, and that no man may win great honor or show
forth singular virtue unless he be well furnished with wealth. For
here in this great peril of the Roman people there was no hope of
safety but in one who was cultivating with his own hand a little plot
of scarcely three acres of ground. For when the messengers of the
people came to him they found him plowing, or, as some say, digging a
ditch. When they had greeted each other, the messengers said, "May the
Gods prosper this thing to the Roman people and to thee. Put on thy
robe and hear the words of the people." Then said Cincinnatus, being
not a little astonished, "Is all well?" and at the same time he called
to his wife Racilia that she should bring forth his robe from the
cottage. So she brought it forth, and the man wiped from him the dust
and the sweat, and clad himself in his robe, and stood before the
messengers. These said to him, "The people of Rome make thee Dictator,
and bid thee come forthwith to the city." And at the same time they
told how the Consul and his army were besieged by the Æquians. So
Cincinnatus departed to Rome; and when he came to the other side of
the Tiber there met him first his three sons, and next many of his
kinsfolk and friends, and after them a numerous company of the nobles.
These all conducted him to his house, the lictors, four and twenty
in number, marching before him. There was also assembled a very great
concourse of the people, fearing much how the Dictator might deal with
them, for they knew what manner of man he was, and that there was no
limit to his power, nor any appeal from him.
The next day, before dawn, the Dictator came into the market-place,
and appointed one Lucius Tarquinius to be Master of the Horse. This
Tarquinius was held by common consent to excel all other men in
exercises of war; only, though, being a noble by birth, he should have
been among the horsemen, he had served for lack of means, as a foot
soldier. This done he called an assembly of the people and commanded
that all the shops in the city should be shut; that no man should
concern himself with any private business, but all that were of an age
to go to the war should be present before sunset in the Field of Mars,
each man having with him provisions of cooked food for five days, and
twelve stakes. As for them that were past the age, they should prepare
the food while the young men made ready their arms and sought for
the stakes. These last they took as they found them, no man hindering
them; and when the time appointed by the Dictator was come, all were
assembled, ready, as occasion might serve, either to march or to give
battle. Forthwith they set out, the Dictator leading the foot soldiers
by their legions, and Tarquinius the horsemen, and each bidding them
that followed make all haste. "We must needs come," they said, "to our
journey's end while it is yet night. Remember that the Consul and his
army have been besieged now for three days, and that no man knows what
a day or a night may bring forth." The soldiers themselves also were
zealous to obey, crying out to the standard-bearers that they should
quicken their steps, and to their fellows that they should not lag
behind. Thus they came at midnight to Mount Ædigus, and when they
perceived that the enemy was at hand they halted the standards. Then
the Dictator rode forward to see, so far as the darkness would suffer
him, how great was the camp of the Æquians and after what fashion
it was pitched. This done he commanded that the baggage should be
gathered together into a heap, and that the soldiers should stand
every man in his own place. After this he compassed about the whole
army of the enemy with his own army, and commanded that at a set
signal every man should shout, and when they had shouted should dig a
trench and set up therein the stakes. This the soldiers did, and the
noise of the shouting passed over the camp of the enemy and came into
the city, causing therein great joy, even as it caused great fear
in the camp. For the Romans cried, "These be our countrymen and they
bring us help." Then said the Consul, "We must make no delay. By that
shout is signified, not that they are come only, but that they are
already dealing with the enemy. Doubtless the camp of the Æquians is
even now assailed from without. Take ye your arms and follow me." So
the legion went forth, it being yet night, to the battle, and as they
went they shouted, that the Dictator might be aware. Now the Æquians
had set themselves to hinder the making of a ditch and rampart which
should shut them in; but when the Romans from the camp fell upon them,
fearing lest these should make their way through the midst of their
camp, they left them that were with Cincinnatus to finish their
entrenching, and fought with the Consul. And when it was now light,
lo! they were already shut in, and the Romans, having finished their
entrenching, began to trouble them. And when the Æquians perceived
that the battle was now on either side of them, they could withstand
no longer, but sent ambassadors praying for peace, and saying, "Ye
have prevailed; slay us not, but rather permit us to depart, leaving
our arms behind us." Then said the Dictator, "I care not to have the
blood of the Æquians. Ye may depart, but ye shall depart passing under
the yoke, that ye may thus acknowledge to all men that ye are indeed
vanquished." Now the yoke is thus made. There are set up in the ground
two spears, and over them is bound by ropes a third spear. So the
Æquians passed under the yoke.
In the camp of the enemy there was found abundance of spoil. This the
Dictator gave wholly to his own soldiers. "Ye were well-nigh a spoil
to the enemy," said he to the army of the Consul, "therefore ye shall
have no share in the spoiling of them. As for thee, Minucius, be
thou a lieutenant only till thou hast learnt how to bear thyself as a
consul." Meanwhile at Rome there was held a meeting of the Senate,
at which it was commanded that Cincinnatus should enter the city in
triumph, his soldiers following him in order of march. Before his
chariot there were led the generals of the enemy; also the standards
were carried in the front; and after these came the army, every man
laden with spoil. That day there was great rejoicing in the city,
every man setting forth a banquet before his doors in the street.
After this, Virginius, that had borne false witness against Cæso, was
found guilty of perjury, and went into exile. And when Cincinnatus
saw that justice had been done to this evildoer, he resigned his
dictatorship, having held it for sixteen days only.
HEROES OF GREAT BRITAIN
BEOWULF
ADAPTED BY H.E. MARSHALL
I
HOW BEOWULF OVERCAME THE OGRE AND THE WATER-WITCH
Long ago, there lived in Daneland a King, beloved of all, called
Hrothgar. He was valiant and mighty in war, overcoming all his foes
and taking from them much spoil. Looking upon his great treasure, King
Hrothgar said, "I will build me a great hall. It shall be vast and
wide, adorned within and without with gold and ivory, with gems and
carved work. It shall be a hall of joy and feasting."
Then King Hrothgar called his workmen and gave them commandment to
build the hall. They set to work, and becoming each day more fair, the
hall was at length finished. It stood upon a height, vast and stately,
and as it was adorned with the horns of deer, King Hrothgar named it
Hart Hall. The King made a great feast. To it his warriors young and
old were called, and he divided his treasure, giving to each rings
of gold. And so in the hall there was laughter and song and great
merriment. Every evening when the shadows fell, and the land grew dark
without, the knights and warriors gathered in the hall to feast. And
when the feast was over, and the great fire roared upon the hearth,
the minstrel took his harp and sang. Far over dreary fen and moorland
the light glowed cheerfully, and the sound of song and harp awoke the
deep silence of the night. Within the hall was light and gladness, but
without there was wrath and hate. For far on the moor there lived
a wicked giant named Grendel, prowling at night to see what evil he
might do.
Very terrible was this ogre Grendel to look upon. Thick black hair
hung about his face, and his teeth were long and sharp, like the tusks
of an animal. His huge body and great hairy arms had the strength of
ten men. He wore no armor, for his skin was tougher than any coat
of mail that man or giant might weld. His nails were like steel and
sharper than daggers, and by his side there hung a great pouch in
which he carried off those whom he was ready to devour. Day by day the
music of harp and song was a torture to him and made him more and more
mad with jealous hate.
At length he crept through the darkness to Hart Hall where the
warriors slept after feast and song. Arms and armor had been thrown
aside, so with ease the ogre slew thirty of the bravest. Howling with
wicked joy he carried them off and devoured them. The next night,
again the wicked one crept stealthily through the darkening moorland
until he reached Hart Hall, stretched forth his hand, and seized the
bravest of the warriors. In the morning each man swore that he would
not again sleep beneath the roof of the hall. For twelve years it
stood thus, no man daring, except in the light of day, to enter it.
And now it came to pass that across the sea in far Gothland the tale
of Grendel and his wrath was carried to Beowulf the Goth, who said he
would go to King Hrothgar to help him. Taking with him fifteen good
comrades, he set sail for Daneland.
When Hrothgar was told that Beowulf had come to help him, he said,
"I knew him when he was yet a lad. His father and his mother have I
known. Truly he hath sought a friend. I have heard that he is much
renowned in war, and hath the strength of thirty men in the grip of
his hand. I pray Heaven he hath been sent to free us from the horror
of Grendel. Bid Beowulf and his warriors to enter."
Guided by the Danish knight, Beowulf and his men went into Hart Hall
and stood before the aged Hrothgar. After friendly words of greeting
Beowulf said, "And now will I fight against Grendel, bearing neither
sword nor shield. With my hands alone will I grapple with the fiend,
and foe to foe we will fight for victory."
That night Beowulf's comrades slept in Hart Hall. Beowulf alone
remained awake. Out of the mists of the moorland the Evil Thing
strode. Loud he laughed as he gazed upon the sleeping warriors.
Beowulf, watchful and angry, curbed his wrath. Grendel seized one of
the men, drank his blood, crushed his bones, and swallowed his horrid
feast. Then Beowulf caught the monster and fought till the noise of
the contest was as of thunder. The knights awoke and tried to plunge
their swords into the hide of Grendel, but in vain. By enchantments he
had made himself safe. At length the fight came to an end. The sinews
in Grendel's shoulder burst, the bones cracked. The ogre tore himself
free, leaving his arm in Beowulf's mighty grip.
Sobbing forth his death-song, Grendel fled till he reached his
dwelling in the lake of the water-dragons, and there plunged in. The
dark waves closed over him and he sank to his home. Loud were the
songs of triumph in Hart Hall, great the rejoicing, for Beowulf had
made good his boast. He had cleansed the hall of the ogre. A splendid
feast was made and much treasure given to Beowulf by the King and
Queen.
Again did the Dane lords sleep in the great hall, but far away in the
water-dragons' lake the mother of Grendel wept over the dead body
of her son, desiring revenge. Very terrible to look upon was this
water-witch. As the darkness fell she crept across the moorland to
Hart Hall. In she rushed eager for slaughter. A wild cry rang through
the hall. The water-witch fled, but in doing so carried off the best
beloved of all the King's warriors.
Quickly was Beowulf called and he rode forth to the dark lake. Down
and down he dived till he came to the cave of the water-witch whom he
killed after a desperate struggle. Hard by on a couch lay the body of
Grendel. Drawing his sword he smote off the ogre's head. Swimming up
with it he reached the surface and sprang to land, and was greeted by
his faithful thanes. Four of them were needed to carry the huge head
back to Hart Hall.
His task being done Beowulf made haste to return to his own land that
he might seek his own King, Hygelac, and lay before him the treasures
that Hrothgar had given him. With gracious words the old King thanked
the young warrior, and bade him to come again right speedily. Hygelac
listened with wonder and delight to all that had happened in Daneland
and graciously received the splendid gifts.
For many years Beowulf lived beloved of all, and when it befell that
Hygelac died in battle, the broad realm of Gothland was given unto
Beowulf to rule. And there for fifty years he reigned a well-loved
King.
II
HOW THE FIRE DRAGON WARRED WITH THE GOTH FOLK
And now when many years had come and gone and the realm had long time
been at peace, sorrow came upon the people of the Goths. And thus it
was that the evil came.
It fell upon a time that a slave by his misdeeds roused his master's
wrath, and when his lord would have punished him he fled in terror.
And as he fled trembling to hide himself, he came by chance into a
great cave.
There the slave hid, thankful for refuge. But soon he had cause to
tremble in worse fear than before, for in the darkness of the cave
he saw that a fearful dragon lay asleep. Then as the slave gazed
in terror at the awful beast, he saw that it lay guarding a mighty
treasure.
Never had he seen such a mass of wealth. Swords and armor inlaid with
gold, cups and vessels of gold and silver set with precious stones,
rings and bracelets lay piled around in glittering heaps.
For hundreds of years this treasure had lain there in secret. A great
prince had buried it in sorrow for his dead warriors. In his land
there had been much fighting until he alone of all his people was
left. Then in bitter grief he gathered all his treasure and hid it in
this cave.
"Take, O earth," he cried, "what the heroes might not keep. Lo! good
men and true once before earned it from thee. Now a warlike death hath
taken away every man of my people. There is none now to bear the sword
or receive the cup. There is no more joy in the battle-field or in the
hall of peace. So here shall the gold-adorned helmet molder, here the
coat of mail rust and the wine-cup lie empty."
Thus the sad prince mourned. Beside his treasure he sat weeping both
day and night until death took him also, and of all his people there
was none left.
So the treasure lay hidden and secret for many a day.
Then upon a time it happened that a great dragon, fiery-eyed and
fearful, as it flew by night and prowled seeking mischief, came upon
the buried hoard.
As men well know, a dragon ever loveth gold. So to guard his new-found
wealth lest any should come to rob him of it, he laid him down there
and the cave became his dwelling. Thus for three hundred years he lay
gloating over his treasure, no man disturbing him.
But now at length it chanced that the fleeing slave lighted upon the
hoard. His eyes were dazzled by the shining heap. Upon it lay a cup of
gold, wondrously chased and adorned.
"If I can but gain that cup," said the slave to himself, "I will
return with it to my master, and for the sake of the gold he will
surely forgive me."
So while the dragon slept, trembling and fearful the slave crept
nearer and nearer to the glittering mass. When he came quite near he
reached forth his hand and seized the cup. Then with it he fled back
to his master.
It befell then as the slave had foreseen. For the sake of the wondrous
cup his misdeeds were forgiven him.
But when the dragon awoke his fury was great. Well knew he that mortal
man had trod his cave and stolen of his hoard.
Round and round about he sniffed and searched until he discovered the
footprints of his foe. Eagerly then all over the ground he sought
to find the man who, while he slept, had done him this ill. Hot
and fierce of mood he went backwards and forwards round about his
treasure-heaps. All within the cave he searched in vain. Then coming
forth he searched without. All round the hill in which his cave was
he prowled, but no man could he find, nor in all the wilds around was
there any man.
Again the old dragon returned, again he searched among his
treasure-heap for the precious cup. Nowhere was it to be found. It was
too surely gone.
But the dragon, as well as loving gold, loved war. So now in angry
mood he lay couched in his lair. Scarce could he wait until darkness
fell, such was his wrath. With fire he was resolved to repay the loss
of his dear drinking-cup.
At last, to the joy of the great winged beast, the sun sank. Then
forth from his cave he came, flaming fire.
Spreading his mighty wings, he flew through the air until he came to
the houses of men. Then spitting forth flame, he set fire to many a
happy homestead. Wherever the lightning of his tongue struck, there
fire flamed forth, until where the fair homes of men had been there
was naught but blackened ruins. Here and there, this way and that,
through all the land he sped, and wherever he passed fire flamed
aloft.
The warfare of the dragon was seen from far. The malice of the worm
was known from north to south, from east to west. All men knew how the
fearful foe hated and ruined the Goth folk.
Then having worked mischief and desolation all night through, the
fire-dragon turned back; to his secret cave he slunk again ere break
of day. Behind him he left the land wasted and desolate.
The dragon had no fear of the revenge of man. In his fiery warfare he
trusted to find shelter in his hill, and in his secret cave. But in
that trust he was misled.
Speedily to King Beowulf were the tidings of the dragon and his
spoiling carried. For alas! even his own fair palace was wrapped in
flame. Before his eyes he saw the fiery tongues lick up his treasures.
Even the Gift-seat of the Goths melted in fire.
Then was the good King sorrowful. His heart boiled within him with
angry thoughts. The fire-dragon had utterly destroyed the pleasant
homes of his people. For this the war-prince greatly desired to punish
him.
Therefore did Beowulf command that a great shield should be made for
him, all of iron. He knew well that a shield of wood could not help
him in this need. Wood against fire! Nay, that were useless. His
shield must be all of iron.
Too proud, too, was Beowulf, the hero of old time, to seek the winged
beast with a troop of soldiers. Not thus would he overcome him. He
feared not for himself, nor did he dread the dragon's war-craft. For
with his valor and his skill Beowulf had succeeded many a time. He had
been victorious in many a tumult of battle since that day when a young
man and a warrior prosperous in victory, he had cleansed Hart Hall by
grappling with Grendel and his kin.
And now when the great iron shield was ready, he chose eleven of his
best thanes and set out to seek the dragon. Very wrathful was the old
King, very desirous that death should take his fiery foe. He hoped,
too, to win the great treasure of gold which the fell beast guarded.
For already Beowulf had learned whence the feud arose, whence came the
anger which had been so hurtful to his people. And the precious cup,
the cause of all the quarrel, had been brought to him.
With the band of warriors went the slave who had stolen the cup. He
it was who must be their guide to the cave, for he alone of all
men living knew the way thither. Loth he was to be their guide. But
captive and bound he was forced to lead the way over the plain to the
dragon's hill.
Unwillingly he went with lagging footsteps until at length he came
to the cave hard by the seashore. There by the sounding waves lay the
savage guardian of the treasure. Ready for war and fierce was he. It
was no easy battle that was there prepared for any man, brave though
he might be.
And now on the rocky point above the sea King Beowulf sat himself
down. Here he would bid farewell to all his thanes ere he began the
combat. For what man might tell which from that fight should come
forth victorious?
Beowulf's mind was sad. He was now old. His hair was white, his face
was wrinkled and gray. But still his arm was strong as that of a young
man. Yet something within him warned him that death was not far off.
So upon the rocky point he sat and bade farewell to his dear comrades.