Paul the Minstrel and Other Stories / Reprinted from The Hill of Trouble and The Isles of Sunset

by Arthur Christopher Benson

Then the heavens overclouded: blacker and blacker the clouds gathered, with a lurid redness underneath like copper; till a mighty storm fell upon them, just as the Cambrians broke and fled back to the camp, and watched the steady advance of the Roman line, with the eagles bowing and nodding as they swept over the uneven moor.

Then suddenly they were aware of a strange thing. Whence it came they knew not, but suddenly under the camp wall there appeared the figure of a man in armour, on a white horse; it was the form of Heiri as they had often seen him ride forth on his white charger to battle; and behind him seemed to be a troop of dark and shadowy horsemen. Heiri seemed to turn round, and raise his sword in the air, as he had often done in life; and then, with a great rending of the heavens, and a mighty crash of thunder, the troop of horse swept down upon the Roman line. Then came a fearful sound from the moorland; and those who gazed from the wall saw the Romans waver and turn; and in a moment they were in flight, melting away in the moor, as stones that roll from a cliff after a frost; and all men held their breath in silence; for they saw the Romans flying and none to pursue, except that some thought that they saw the white horse ride hither and thither, and the flash of the waving sword of Heiri.

There followed a strange and dreadful night; the list of warriors was called and many were absent; from hour to hour a few wounded men crawled in; and in the morning, seeing that the Romans were not near at hand, they sent out a party with horses to bring in the wounded and the dead; all the priests were among the slain; those of the chiefs that were alive held a meeting and resolved that the camp must now be held, for the Romans would attack the next day; and they sent the women and children, with the herds, away to a secret place in the mountains, all but Heiri's wife, who would not leave the camp.

Then the other chiefs would have made Gryf, the old chief, prince of the tribe; but he refused it, saying that Heiri had wished Nefri to be chief, and that none but Nefri should succeed. So search was made for Nefri, and he was found in Heiri's hut with Heiri's wife; he had stayed beside the body till it grew stiff and cold and the eyes had glazed; and then he had feared to be alone with it, and had crept away. So they put a crown upon Nefri's head, and each of the chiefs in turn knelt before him and kissed his hand; and Nefri bore himself proudly but gently, as a prince should, rising as each chief approached; and then he was led out before the people, and they were told that Nefri was prince by the wish of Heiri; and no one disputed the matter.

Then in the grey dawn a scout came in haste and said that three Romans were approaching the camp, and that one was a herald; and the old chief asked Nefri what his will was; and the boy looked him in the face, and said, "Let them be brought hither." So the chiefs were again summoned, and the Romans came slowly into the camp. The herald came in front, and he was followed by an officer of high rank, as could be seen from his apparel and the golden trappings of the horse that bore him; and another officer followed behind; and the herald, who knew something of the Cambrian language, said that this was the Lord Legate himself, and that he was come to make terms.

The chiefs looked at each other in silence, for they knew that the Romans must needs have taken the camp that day if they had assaulted it. The Legate was a young man with a short beard, very much burnt by the sun, and bearing himself like a great gentleman. He looked about him with a careless and lordly air; and when they came into the presence of the chiefs, the three dismounted; and the Legate looked round to see which was the prince; then the old chief put Nefri forward, and said to the herald, "Here is our king." And the Legate bowed to Nefri, and looked at him in surprise; and the herald said in the Cambrian language to Nefri that the Legate was fain to arrange a truce, or indeed a lasting peace, if that were possible.

Then the old chief said to Nefri, "My lord, ask him wherefore the Legate has come;" and Nefri asked the herald, and the herald asked the Legate; then the Legate said, smiling, to the herald, "Tell him anything but the truth—say that it is our magnanimity;" and then he added in a lower tone, turning to the other officer, "though the truth is that the men will not dare to attack the place after the rout of yesterday;" and the Legate added to the herald, "Say that the Romans respect courage, and have seen that the Cambrians are worthy foes, and we would not press them hard; it is a peaceful land of allies that we desire, and not a land conquered and made desolate." So the herald repeated the words.