Although they travelled almost night and day, it took them the better part of two weeks to reach the river, on the banks of which King Hudibras’ chief town was built. They arrived at the eastern bank without mishap, and found that people were crowding over from the western side to attend some display or fête which was obviously going on there. Mingling with the crowd they went to the river’s edge, where numerous wooden canoes and coracles were busily engaged in ferrying the people over.
Approaching a man, whose apparel betokened him one of the poorer class, Bladud addressed him—
“Can you tell me, friend, what is going on here to-day?”
“Truly you must be a stranger if you know not, for every one—far and near—has heard of the wedding of our king’s pretty daughter.”
“Is she, then, married?” asked the prince, scarcely able to conceal his anxiety.
“Not yet, but she is to be married to-morrow—if no champion comes to claim her.”
“How? What mean you?”
“I mean what I say. Gunrig, the great chief whom she is to wed, is a proud and a stout man. Many chiefs have been courting the fair princess, and, in his pride of heart and strength, Gunrig has challenged any one to fight him in single combat, promising that the bride shall be given to the conqueror.”
“And does my—does the king agree to such a base proposal?”
“Well, he objected to it at first, but Gunrig is such a dangerous enemy, and his tribe so powerful, that the king has given in at last. Besides, he knows that the chief is so strong and big, and so well able to use his weapons, that none of the other chiefs are likely to venture a trial with him, or, if they do, they are sure to get the worst of it.”