CHILDE HORN
There dwelt once in Southland a King named Altof, who was rich,
powerful, and gentle. His Queen was named Gotthild, and they had a young
son called Horn. The rain never rained, the sun never shone upon a
fairer boy; his skin was like roses and lilies, and as clear as glass;
and he was as brave as he was handsome. At fifteen years old his like
was not to be seen in all the kingdoms around. He had a band of
play-fellows, twelve boys of noble birth, but not one of them could
throw the ball so high as Horn. Out of the twelve, two were his special
companions, and one of them, Athulf, was the best of the company, while
the other, Figold, was altogether the worst.
It came to pass one summer morning that good King Altof was riding on
the sea-shore with only two attendants, and he looked out to sea and saw
fifteen ships lying in the offing. It was the heathen Vikings who had
come from Northland, bent on plundering Christian lands. When these saw
the three Norsemen, they swarmed on to shore like a pack of wolves, all
armed and full of battle fury. They slew the King and his knights, and
made themselves masters of the whole land.
Queen Gotthild wept much for her lord, and more for her son, Childe
Horn, who could not now ascend his father's throne. She clad herself in
mourning garments, the meanest she could find, and went to dwell in a
cave, where she prayed night and day for her son, that he might be
preserved from the malice of his enemies, at whose mercy he and his
comrades lay. At first they thought to have slain him, but one of their
leaders was touched by his glorious beauty, and so he said to the boy,
"Horn, you are a fair stripling and a bold, and when you come to years,
you and your band here, you are like to prove too many for us, so I am
going to put you all in a boat and let it drift out to sea--where may
the gods preserve you, or else send you to the bottom; but, for all our
sakes, you cannot remain here."
Then they led the boys down to the shore, placed them in a little skiff,
and pushed it off from the land. All but Horn wrung their hands in fear.
The waves rose high, and, as the boat was tossed up and down, the lads
gave themselves up for lost, not knowing whither they were driven; but
when the morning of the second day broke, Horn sprang up from where he
sat in the forepart of the skiff, crying, "I hear the birds sing, and I
see the grass growing green--we are at the land!" Then they sprang right
gladly on shore, and Horn called after the boat as it floated away, "A
good voyage to thee, little boat! May wind and wave speed thee back to
Southland. Greet all who knew me, and chiefly the good Queen Gotthild,
my mother. And tell the heathen King that some day he shall meet his
death at my hand."
Then the boys went on till they came to a city, where reigned King
Aylmer of Westland--whom God reward for his kindness to them. He asked
them in mild words whence they came, "for in good sooth," said he,
"never have I seen so well-favoured a company"; and Horn answered
proudly, "We are of good Christian blood, and we come from Southland,
which has just been raided by pagans, who slew many of our people, and
sent us adrift in a boat, to be the sport of the winds and waves. For a
day and a night we have been at sea without a rudder; and now we have
been cast upon your coast, you may enslave or slay us, if but, it please
thee, show us mercy."
Then the good King asked, "What is your name, my child?" and the boy
answered. "Horn, at your pleasure, my Lord King; and if you need a
servant, I will serve you well and truly."
"Childe Horn," said the King, "you bear a mighty name for one so young
and tender.
"Over hills and valleys oft the horn has rung,
In the royal palace long the horn has hung.
So shall thy name, O Hornchild, through every land resound,
And the fame of thy wondrous beauty in all the West be found."
So Horn found great favour with the King, and he put him in charge of
Athelbrus, the house-steward, that he might teach him all knightly
duties, and he spared no pains with him, nor yet with his companions;
but well trained as they all were, Horn was far ahead of them both in
stature and noble bearing. Even a stranger looking at him could guess
his lofty birth, and the splendour of his marvellous beauty lit up all
the palace; while he won all hearts, from the meanest grooms to the
greatest of the court ladies.
Now the fairest thing in that lordly court was the King's only daughter,
Riminild. Her mother was dead, and she was well-beloved of her father,
as only children are. Not a word had she ever ventured to speak to Horn
when she saw him among the other knights at the great feasts, but day
and night she bore his image in her heart. One night she dreamed that he
entered her apartments (and she wondered much at his boldness), and in
the morning she sent for Athelbrus, the house-steward, and bade him
conduct Horn into her presence. But he went to Athulf, who was the pure
minded and true one of Horn's two chosen companions, while Figold, the
other, was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and said to him, "You shall go
with me in Horn's stead to the Princess."
So he went, and she, not recognising him in the ill-lighted room,
stretched out her hand to him, crying, "Oh, Horn, I have loved you long.
Now plight me your troth."
But Athulf whispered to her, "Hold! I am not Horn. I am but his friend,
Athulf, as unlike him as may well be. Horn's little finger is fairer
than my whole body; and were he dead, or a thousand miles off, I would
not play him false."
Then Riminild rose up in anger and glared upon the old steward, crying,
"Athelbrus, you wicked man, out of my sight, or I shall hate you for
evermore! All shame and ill befall you if you bring me not Childe Horn
himself!"
"Lady and Princess," answered Athelbrus warily, "listen, and I will tell
you why I brought Athulf. The King entrusted Horn to my care, and I
dread his anger. Now be not angry with me, and I will fetch him
forthwith."
Then he went away, but, instead of Horn, this time he called Figold, the
deceiver, and said to him, "Come with me, instead of Horn, to the royal
Princess. Do not betray yourself, lest we both suffer for it."
Willingly went the faithless one with him, but to Figold the maid held
not out her hand--well she knew that he was false, and she drove him
from her presence in rage and fury. Athelbrus feared her anger, and said
to himself, "To make my peace with her I must now send her the true
Horn." He found him in the hall presenting the wine cup to the King, and
whispered to him, "Horn, you are wanted in the Princess's apartments";
and when Horn heard this his hand holding the full goblet so trembled
that the wine ran over the edge. He went straight into the presence of
the royal maiden, and as he knelt before her his beauty seemed to light
up the room.
"Fair befall thee and thy maidens, O Lady!" said he. "The house-steward
has sent me hither to ask thy will."
Then Riminild stood up, her cheeks red as the dawn, and told him of her
love; and Horn took counsel with himself how he should answer her.
"May God in heaven bless him whom thou weddest, whoever he may be," he
said. "I am but a foundling, and the King's servant to boot--it would be
against all rule and custom were he to wed me with thee."
When Riminild heard this her heart died within her, and she fell
fainting on the floor; but Horn lifted her up, and advised her to
request her father that he might now receive knighthood. "An then," said
he, "I will win you by my brave deeds."
When she heard that, she recovered herself and said, "Take my ring here
to Master Athelbrus, and bid him from me ask the King to make you a
knight."
So Horn went and told all to Athelbrus, who sought the King forthwith,
and said, "To-morrow is a festival; I counsel thee to admit Horn to
knighthood." And the King was pleased, and said, "Good! Horn is well
worthy of it. I will create him a knight to-morrow, and he himself shall
confer it on his twelve companions."
The next day the newly knighted one went to Riminild's bower, and told
her that now he was her own true knight, and must go forth to do brave
deeds in her name, and she said she would trust him evermore, and she
gave him a gold ring with her name graven on it, which would preserve
him from all evil. "Let this remind thee of me early and late," she
said, "and thou canst never fall by treachery." And then they kissed
each other, and she closed the door behind him, with tears.
The other knights were feasting and shouting in the King's hall, but
Horn went to the stable, armed from head to foot. He stroked his
coal-black steed, then sprang upon his back and rode off, his armour
ringing as he went. Down to the seashore he galloped, singing joyously
and praying God soon to send him the chance to do some deed of knightly
daring, and there he met a band of pagen marauders, who had just landed
from their pirate-ship. Horn asked them civilly what they wanted there,
and one of the pagans answered insolently, "To conquer the land and slay
all that dwell in it, as we did to King Altof, whose son now serves a
foreign lord."
Horn, on hearing this, drew his sword and struck off the fellow's head;
then he thought of his dead father and of his mother in her lonely cave;
he looked on his ring and thought of Riminild, and dashed among the
pirates, laying about him right and left, till, I warrant you, there
were few of them left to tell the tale. "This," he cried, "is but the
foretaste of what will be when I return to my own land and avenge my
father's death!"
Then he rode back to the palace and told the King how he had slain the
invaders, and "Here," he said, "is the head of the leader, to requite
thee, O King, for granting me knighthood."
The next day the King went a-hunting in the forest, and the false Figold
rode at his side, but Horn stayed at home. And Figold spoke to the King
out of his wicked heart and said, "I warn thee, King Aylmer, Horn is
plotting to dishonour thee--to rob thee of thy daughter and of thy
kingdom to boot. He is even now plotting with her in her bower."
Then the King galloped home in a rage, and burst into Riminild's bower,
and there, sure enough, he found Horn, as Figold had said. "Out of my
land, base foundling!" he cried. "What have you to do with the young
Queen here?"
And Horn departed without a word. He went to the stable, saddled his
horse, then he girded on his sword and returned to the palace; he
crossed the hall and entered Riminild's apartments for the last time.
"Lady," he said, "I must go forth to strange lands for seven years; at
the end of that time I will either return or send a messenger; but if I
do neither, you may give yourself to another, nor wait longer for me.
Now kiss me a long farewell."
Riminild promised to be true to him, and she took a gold ring from her
finger, saying, "Wear this above the other which I gave you, or if you
grow weary of them, fling them both away, and watch to see if its two
stones change colour; for if I die, the one will turn pale, and if I am
false, the other will turn red."
"Riminild," said Childe Horn, "I am yours for evermore! There is a pool
of clear water under a tree in the garden--go there daily and look for
my shadow in the water. If you see it not, know that I am unaltered; and
if you see it, know that I no longer love thee."
Then they embraced and kissed each other, and Horn parted from her, and
rode down to the coast, and took passage on a ship bound for Ireland.
When he landed there, two of its King's sons met him, and took him to
their father, good King Thurstan, before whom Horn bowed low, and the
King bade him welcome, and praised his beauty, and asked his name.
"My name is Good Courage," said Horn boldly, and the King was well
pleased.
Now, at Christmas, King Thurstan made a great feast, and in the midst of
it one rushed in crying, "Guests, O King! We are besieged by five
heathen chiefs, and one of them proclaims himself ready to fight any
three of our knights single handed to-morrow at sunrise."
"That would be but a sorry Christmas service," said King Thurstan; "who
can advise me how best to answer them?" Then Horn spoke up from his seat
at the table, "If these pagans are ready to fight, one against three,
what may not a Christian dare? I will adventure myself against them all,
and one after another they shall go down before my good sword."
Heavy of heart was King Thurstan that night, and little did he sleep.
But "Sir Good Courage" rose early and buckled on his armour. Then he
went to the King and said, "Now, Sir King, come with me to the field,
and I will show you in what coin to pay the demands of these heathen."
So they rode on together in the twilight, till they came to the green
meadow, where a giant was waiting for them. Horn greeted him with a blow
that brought him to the ground at once, and ran another giant through
the heart with his sword; and when their followers saw that their
leaders were slain, they turned and fled back to the shore, but Horn
tried to cut them off from their ships, and in the scrimmage the King's
two sons fell. At this Horn was sore grieved, and he fell upon the
pagans in fury, and slew them right and left, to avenge the King and
himself.
Bitterly wept King Thurstan when his sons were brought home to him on
their biers; there was great mourning for the young princes, who were
buried with high honours in the vault under the church. Afterwards the
King called his knights together and said to Horn, "Good Courage, but
for you we were all dead men. I will make you my heir; you shall wed my
daughter Swanhild, who is bright and beautiful as the sunshine, and
shall reign here after me."
So Horn lived there for six years, always under the name of Good
Courage, but he sent no messenger to Riminild, not wishing any man to
know his secret, and consequently Riminild was in great sorrow on his
account, not knowing whether he was true to her or not. Moreover, the
King of a neighbouring country sought her hand in marriage, and her
father now fixed a day for the wedding.
One morning, as Horn was riding to the forest, he saw a stranger
standing in the wayside, who, on being questioned said, "I come from
Westland, and I seek the Knight Sir Horn. Riminild the maiden is in sore
heaviness of spirit, bewailing herself day and night, for on Sunday next
she is to be married to a King."
Then was Horn's grief as great as that of Riminild. His eyes overflowed
with tears. He looked at his ring with its colored stones; the one had
not turned red, but it seemed to him that the other was turning pale.
"Well knew my heart that you would keep your troth with me, Riminild,"
said he to himself, "and that never would that stone grow red; but this
paling one bodes ill. And you doubtless have often looked in the garden
pool for my shadow, and have seen naught there but your own lovely
image. _That_ shadow shall never come, O sweet love, Riminild, to
prove to you that your love is false, but he himself shall come and
drive all shadows away.
"And you, my trusty messenger," he said aloud, "go back to maid Riminild
and tell her that she shall indeed wed a King next Sunday, for before
the church bells ring for service I will be with her."
The Princess Riminild stood on the beach and looked out to sea, hoping
to see Horn coming in his helmet and shield to deliver her; but none
came, save her own messenger, who was washed up on the shore--drowned!
And she wrung her hands in her anguish.
Horn had gone immediately to King Thurstan, and, after saluting him,
told him his real name and his present trouble. "And now, O King," said
he, "I pray you to reward me for all my services by helping me to get
possession of Riminild. Your daughter, Swanhild, will I give to a man
the best and faithfullest ever called to the ranks of knighthood."
Then said the King, "Horn, follow your own counsel"; then he sent for
his knights, and many of them followed Horn, so that he had a thousand
or more at his command. The wind favoured their course, and in a few
hours the ships cast anchor on the shore of Westland. Horn left his
forces in a wood while he went on to learn what was doing. Well did he
know the way, and lightly did he leap over the stones. As he went he met
a pilgrim, and asked him the latest news, who answered, "I come from a
wedding feast--but the bride's true love is far away, and she only
weeps. I could not stay to see her grief."
"May God help me!" said Horn: "but this is sorrowful news. Let us change
garments, good pilgrim. I must go to the feast, and once there I vow. I
will give them something by which to remember Horn!" He blackened his
eyebrows, and took the pilgrim's hat and staff, and when he reached the
gate of the palace, the porter was for turning him back, but Horn took
him up and flung him over the bridge, and then went on to the hall where
the feast was being held. He sat down among the lowest, on the beggar's
bench, and glowered round from under his blackened eyebrows. At a
distance he saw Riminild sitting like one in a dream; then she rose to
pour out mead and wine for the knights and squires, and Horn cried out,
"Fair Queen, if ye would have God's blessing, let the beggar's turn come
next."
She set down the flagon of wine, and poured him out brown beer in a jug,
saying: "There, drink that off at a draught, thou boldest of beggar
men!" But he gave it to the beggars, his companions, saying "I am not
come to drink jugs of beer, but goblets of wine. Fair Queen," he cried,
"thou deemest me a beggar, but I am rather a fisherman, come to haul in
my net, which I left seven years ago hanging from a fair hand here in
Westland." Then was Riminild much troubled within herself, and she
looked hard at Horn. She reached him the goblet and said, "Drink wine
then, fisherman, and tell me who thou art."
He drank from the goblet, and then dropped into it the gold ring, and
said, "Look, O Queen, at what thou findest in the goblet, and ask no
more who I am." The Queen withdrew into her bower with her four maidens,
and when she saw the gold ring that she had given to Horn, she was sore
distressed, and cried out, "Childe Horn must be dead, for this is his
ring."
She then sent one of her waiting-maids to command the stranger to her
presence, and Horn, all unrecognised, appeared before her. "Tell me,
honest pilgrim, where thou gottest this ring?" she asked him.
"I took it," said he, "from the finger of a man whom I found lying sick
unto death in a wood. Loudly he was bewailing himself and the lady of
his heart, one Riminild, who should at this time have wedded him." As he
spoke he drew his cap down over his eyes, which were full of tears.
Then Riminild cried, "Break, heart, in my bosom! Horn is no more--he who
hath already caused thee so many tender pangs." She threw herself on her
couch and called for a knife, to kill the bridegroom and herself.
Her maidens shrieked with fear, but Horn flung his arms around her and
pressed her to his heart. Then he cast away hat and staff, and wiped the
brown stain from his face, and stood up before his love in his own fair
countenance, asking, "Dear love, Riminild, know thou me not now? Away
with your grief and kiss me--I am Horn!--Horn, your true lover and born
slave."
She gazed into his eyes. At first she could not believe that it was he,
but at last she could doubt no longer; she fell upon his neck, and in
the sweet greetings that followed were two sick hearts made whole.
"Horn, you miscreant! how could you play me such a trick?"
"Have patience, sweet love, maid Riminild, and I will tell you all. Now
let me go and finish my work, and when it is done I will come and rest
at your side."
So he left her, and went back to the forest, and Riminild sent for
Athulf, who met her with a doleful countenance. "Athulf!" she cried,
"rejoice with me! Horn has come--I tell you Horn is here!"
"Alas!" said Athulf, "that cannot be. Who hath brought thee such an idle
tale? Day and night have I stood here watching for him, but he came not,
and much I fear me the noble Horn is dead."
"I tell you he is living," she said--"aye, and more alive than ever. Go
to the forest and find him--he is there with all his faithful
followers."
Athulf made haste to the forest, still unbelieving, but soon his heart
bounded for joy, for there rode Horn in his shining armour at the head
of his troops. Athulf rode to his side, and they returned together to
the city, where Riminild was watching them from her turret. And Horn
pointed to her and cried to his company, "Knights, yonder is my
bride--help me to win her!"
Then was there a fierce storming of the gate--the shock of it shook
Riminild's tower--and Horn and his heroes burst, all unheralded, into
the King's hall. Fierce and furious was the bridal dance that followed;
the tumult of it rose up to Riminild, and she prayed, "God preserve my
lover in this wild confusion!"
Right merrily danced her dancer, and all unscathed he flashed through
the hall, thanks to his true love and God's care. King Aylmer and the
bridegroom confronted him and the younger, the bridegroom King, asked
him what he sought there. "I seek my bride," said he, "and if you do not
give her up to me I will have your life."
"Better thou should have the bride than that," said the other; "though I
would sooner be torn in pieces than give thee either." And he defended
himself bravely, but it availed him naught. Horn struck off his head
from his shoulders, so that it bounded across the hall. Then cried Horn
to the other guests, "The dance is over!" after which he proclaimed a
truce, and, throwing himself down on a couch, spake thus to King Aylmer:
"I was born in Southland, of a royal race. The pagan Vikings slew King
Altof, my father, and put me out to sea with my twelve companions. You
did train me for the order of knighthood, and I have dishonoured it by
no unworthy deeds, though you did drive me from your kingdom, thinking I
meant to disgrace you through your daughter. But that which you credited
me with I never contemplated. Accept me then, O King, for your
son-in-law. Yet will I not claim my bride till I have won back my
kingdom of Southland. That will I accomplish quickly, with the help of
my brave knights and such others as I pray you to lend me, leaving in
pledge therefor the fairest jewel in my crown, until King Horn shall be
able to place Queen Riminild beside him on his father's throne."
As he spoke Riminild entered, and Horn took her hand and led her to her
father, and the young couple stood before the old King--a right royal
pair. Then King Aylmer spoke jestingly, "Truly I once did chide a young
knight in my wrath, but never King Horn, whom I now behold for the first
time. Never would I have spoken roughly to King Horn, much less
forbidden him to woo a Princess."
Then all the knights and lords came offering their good wishes to the
happy pair; and the old house-steward, Athelbrus, would have bent the
knee to his former pupil, but Horn took the old man in his arms and
embraced him, thanking him for all the pains he had taken with his
breeding.
Horn's twelve companions came also, and did him homage as their
sovereign, and he rejoiced to see them all, but especially Athulf the
brave and true. "Athulf," he told him, "thou hast helped me to win my
bride here, now come with me to Southland and help me to make a home for
her. And you, too, shall win a lady--I have already chosen her; her name
is Swanhild, and she will look fair even beside Riminild." Then did
Athulf rejoice, but Figold, the traitor, was ready to sink into the
ground with shame and envy.
Then Horn returned to his ship, taking Athulf with him, but Figold he
left behind. Truly it is ill knowing what to do with a traitor, whether
you take him to the field or leave him at home.
On went the ship before a favouring wind; the voyage lasted but four
days. Horn landed at midnight, and he and Athulf went inland together.
On the way they came upon a noble looking knight asleep under his
shield, upon which a cross was painted, and Horn cried to him, "Awake,
and tell us what they are doing here. Thou seemest to be a Christian, I
trow, else would I have hewn thee in pieces with my sword!"
The good knight sprang up aghast, and said, "Against my will I am
serving the heathen who rule here. I am keeping a place ready for Horn,
the best loved of all heroes. Long I have wondered why he does not
bestir himself to return and fight for his own. God give him power so to
do till he slay every one of these miscreants. They put him out to sea,
a tender boy, with his twelve playmates, one of whom was my only son,
Athulf. Dearly he loved Horn, and was beloved by him. Could I but see
them both once more, I should feel that I could die in peace."
"Then rejoice," they told him, "for Horn and Athulf are here!"
Joyfully did the old man greet the youths; he embraced his son and bent
the knee to Horn, and all three rejoiced together.
"Where is your company?" asked the old knight. "I suppose you two have
come to explore the land. Well, your mother still lives, and if she knew
you to be living would be beside herself with joy."
"Blessed be the day that I and my men landed here," said Horn. "We will
catch these heathen dogs, or else tame them. We will speak to them in
our own language."
Then Horn blew his horn, so that all on board the ship heard it and came
on shore. As the young birds long for the dawn, so Horn longed for the
fight that should free his country from her enemies. From morning to
night the battle raged, till all the heathen, young and old, were slain,
and young King Horn himself slew the pirate King. Then he went to
church, with all his people, and an anthem was sung to the glory of God,
and Horn gave thanks aloud for the restoration of his kingdom, after
which he sought the place where his mother dwelt. How his heart wept for
joy when he saw her! He placed a crown on her head, and arrayed her in
rich robes, and brought her up to the palace. "Thou art glad to have thy
child again," he said to her in the joy of his heart, "but I will make
thee gladder still by bringing thee home a daughter, one who will please
thee well." And he thought of his love, Riminild, with whom, however,
things were just then going very much amiss.
For as son as Horn had departed, the treacherous Figold had collected a
great army of workmen and made them build him a tower in the sea, which
could only be reached when the tide was out. Now about this time Horn
had a dream, in which he saw Riminild on board a ship at sea, which
presently went to pieces, and she tried to swim ashore, steering with
her lily-white hand, while Figold, the traitor, sought to stop her with
the point of his sword. Then he awoke and cried, "Athulf, true friend,
we must away across the sea. Unless we make all speed some evil will
befall us." And in the midst of a storm they set sail.
In the meantime Figold had left his tower and appeared in the presence
of King Aylmer. Cunningly, out of his false heart spoke the traitor,
"King Aylmer, Horn has sent me word that he would have his bride handed
over to my care. He has regained his crown and realm and would fain have
her there to be his Queen."
"Very well," said the King, "let her go with thee."
But Riminild was much displeased at the thought of being put into the
hands of Figold, whom in her soul she would not trust.
"Why comes not Horn for me himself?" she asked. "I know not the way to
his kingdom either by land or by sea."
"But I know it," said Figold, "and I will soon bring thee thither, most
beauteous queen." But his wicked smile made her uneasy at heart.
"If Horn could not come himself," she said, "why did he not send Athulf,
his faithful friend?" But this question pleased the traitor so little
that he gave her no answer.
Her father blessed her, and she set forth, wringing her white hands.
Meanwhile, Horn, sailing from the south, was driven in shore by a storm,
and he beheld Figold's high tower, and asked who had built such an ugly
thing. He thought he heard a low murmuring as his ship flew past it
before the wind, but knew not what it might be. Soon he saw the
battlements of King Aylmer's palace rising in the distance; there
Riminild should be, looking out for him, but all was bare and empty. It
seemed to him as though a star were missing from heaven; and as he
crossed the threshold the ill news was told him how Figold had carried
off Riminild. Horn had no mind to linger with the King. "Come, Athulf,
true friend," said he, "and help me to search for her." So they searched
far and near, in vain, till at last Horn remembered that strange tower
in the sea, and set sail for the lonely fortress where Figold had the
fair princess in his evil keeping. "Now, my eleven companions, and you,
too, Athulf," said he, "abide here while I go up alone with my horn. God
hath shown me how to order this attempt."
He left his sword on the ship, and took only a fishing line with a long
hook. Then round and round the tower he walked, and he blew a loud blast
out into the raging storm, until a head appeared out of a hole in the
wall of the tower--it was that wicked knave Figold's; and Horn cast his
line, and hauled the writhing traitor clean out of the tower. He whirled
round the sea wolf at the end of the line, and swung him over the water
by the sheer force of his arm, so that he was cast over to Athulf in the
ship; and sore afraid was the traitor when the true men on board seized
him.
Then Horn took up his bugle once more and sounded it so loudly that at
the first blast the door was uncovered; at the second he could enter the
tower; the third was heard as he led Riminild forth. Lightly did he
clasp her round the waist and swing her into his boat, and then pulled
for the ship.
He brought Riminild on board his ship, and called to his band, "Ho
there, my trusty eleven! Our voyage is ended, and we will now go merrily
home. And you, Athulf, my chosen and tried friend, shall now have your
guerdon; I will bring you to your bride Swanhild, and Riminild and I
will be wedded at the same time--the same wedding feast shall serve us
both.
"And Riminild, my sweet pearl, whom I have rescued from the deep, not
all that I have suffered on your account grieves me like the perfidy
this false one wrought on you, my loving heart. Through him the goodly
tale of my twelve followers is broken; now when they gather round the
table, one seat will ever be empty. Must it ever be that no dozen of men
can be got together but one will prove a traitor?"
Then he bade them "Set the traitor in the boat and let it drift out to
sea, as we poor children were made to do aforetime. Let the waves bear
away treachery as once they bore innocence--our ship will make better
speed; and as for him, let him drift till he find a land where no
traitors are."