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KING PENDA’S CAPTAIN

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Feargus stepped to the side of Edwy and drew his sword, shouting, “I am your captain: stand back, Mercians!”

KING PENDA’S CAPTAIN
A ROMANCE OF FIGHTING
IN THE DAYS
OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS

BY
MAC KENZIE MAC BRIDE

WITH
COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS
BY
JOHN DUNCAN

LONDON
J. M. DENT & COMPANY
29 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND
MCMVIII

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

KING PENDA’S CAPTAIN

CHAPTER I
OF FEARGUS AND KING PENDA

It chanced in the days when the preaching of Augustine and his followers had stirred all England from the Tyne to the Thames and the English sea that there arose in the Midlands, by the waters of Trent, a king of the Mercians named Penda, son of Wybba, who, though he counted full fifty years when he came to be king, had spirit like to that of a young man, and he was a great warrior and faithful unto death to that which he held true. When he saw the people of the lands around him casting over the gods of their forefathers and following the new faith he was wrath, and the more so with Northumbria, which had far outstripped the other nations of the Angles under its noble and mighty king. For Edwin had broken the old gods and brought under his overlordship the countrymen of Penda, and the North Angles, the Middle Angles, East Angles, and Southumbrians or men of Lindesey. Penda had seen all these things but had bided his time, though the great heart in him beat hard as he beheld. And when he came to be king he saw himself beset with foes: on the one hand his people were hemmed in by the Welsh and West Saxons, on the other by the North English and Middle English, East Angles and Lindiswaras or Lindeseymen, while towering above all was impregnable Northumbria. When Penda arose the heathen people, seeing the front of him, rallied, and he led them forth and conquered: his sword fell first upon his near neighbours the North Angles, Middle Angles, East Angles, and Southumbrians, and he brought them in under him. And, the heathen people still gathering to his banner, he tore the lands to the west from the West Saxons and overthrew king Cadwalla of Wales. Then the Welsh king, seeing what a mighty man was Penda, joined hands with him, and together they brought the kingdom of Wessex to their feet. So everywhere the Mercians had the victory. Then, at length, king Edwin lifted his war brand and gathered together a mighty host and went to meet the Mercians, but in a great fight Penda overthrew the Northumbrians, and Edwin himself was slain. So the power of Northumbria waned, until its new king, Oswald, roused himself, and went forth to help the Christian East Anglians against Penda, and with him went a mighty host. When Penda heard of his coming, he looked to his men and sent out ships bearing a messenger to one Nechtan of the Hundred Battles, a great chief among the Albanich or Picts, who, though most of the Pictish tribes had adopted the new religion, still stood by the old gods of his race. Now battle was to Nechtan as the breath of his nostrils, so that, though he cared less for his faith than did Penda for Odin and Thor and Freya, yet, whenever they brought him the summons he arose, and taking with him his son Feargus, and the most tried of his warriors, as many as the ships would carry, he sailed south for the land of Mercia.

Great was the joy of Penda at gaining so mighty a chief to his aid, and they went out together to meet king Oswald. Then Penda took command of the one half of that great host and Nechtan with his son Feargus of the other. And Penda fought with great might, and king Nechtan likewise, and his son Feargus. And it chanced in the midst of the fight that Penda saw the Pictish chief stumble, and ran forward to catch him, and carried him to his tent. Then the son of Nechtan was wrath at the wounding of the king his father, and he led his men so cunningly, as did also the mighty Penda, that the forces of Oswald were routed, and Oswald himself was slain. So Penda was greatly pleased with the hardihood of Nechtan and of his son, and before they went forth to their own land he begged the Pictish king to leave the youth, Feargus, with him to be his man, and he would, on his side, train him up in all manly ways. Now Nechtan was loth to part with his best captain, for, though yet but a boy, such he deemed his son, Feargus, but at length, for love of Penda and for that great service he had done him on the field of battle, he agreed.

“For well I wot,” said he, “that home-keeping youths have homely wits, and I know there is not such a warrior as Penda the world through.”

So Feargus put his hands between the hands of Penda, and became his man.

So Feargus put his hands between the hands of Penda and became his man, and swore on his father’s sword to be faithful and obedient, and to stand by the king in all matters soever. Then, after a short sojourn for the healing of his wound, king Nechtan departed, leaving behind a company of two hundred Picts, especially chosen for their size and strength and hardihood, to serve his son.

CHAPTER II
OF FEARGUS AND TORFRIDA

So Feargus stayed behind with king Penda, and soon his name became known through all the land. Though he was yet ungrown, men looked upon him as a man, for so was he limbed; and such was he for hardihood and cunning with all weapons that he soon excelled all the captains of the king. In stature he towered above his fellows, and his strength was like that of two men. He sought no fight nor feared any, yet his enemies were adread of him; but not less loved was he of his friends, and his manners were so mild, withal, that the poorest might speak with him familiarly. Besides Feargus, were other captains of Penda, chief among whom were his sons Peada and Wulfere; and Osbert, son to the king of the North English,[1] with his brothers Godwine, Thorkill, and Tosti and his cousin Edgar. These were rich and great, and there were also many kings and nobles gathered about the city of Tamworth, the chief town of Mercia. Of these was one Sigmund, king of the Lindiswaras, who, with his daughter Torfrida, was much about the hall of Penda. So Feargus dwelt among the Mercians and they fought many battles, and great was their gain, and the cause of the Christians waned before them. But gradually the spirit of the new faith fell upon its enemies and even Sigmund, the chief friend of Penda, drifted slowly over, and with him went his daughter Torfrida. So that when Penda made war on the Christian king of the East Anglians, Sigmund no longer followed him and he was wrath. Now we have seen that Torfrida had been much about the hall of Penda, for the old warrior loved the little maiden, and felt his hearth brighter for her presence; but when Sigmund withheld from Penda in his war on king Anna of East Anglia, Torfrida was denied king Penda’s halls and great sorrow fell upon Feargus. For the youth now learned that he loved the damsel, now when he dare no longer make it known to Penda or to herself; for the king had said that he must not enter Sigmund’s land; so Feargus went forth to the fight heavy-hearted. And when they wended homeward after harrying and burning the lands of the Christians he sighed for Torfrida; and so one night he mounted his horse in secret and, taking a clarsach, or small harp, and a minstrel’s cloak, rode away eastward, and still rode through the next day until he won Sigmund’s land. Being dressed as a minstrel no one heeded him, for minstrels were held in great honour amongst the English as amongst the Albanich, and as he rode he made a little song. He entered the town of Lindum, which was set on a high hill, and sought out the king’s halls, and there in the garden beheld Torfrida walking to and fro with head downcast and greeting,[2] and ever and anon wringing her small hands. She was as fair as an April morning and not less fresh and fragrant; like a golden river her hair fell over her white throat and shoulders to her waist; deep blue were her eyes and her forehead low and straight and square; pink cheeks she had, and parted lips—fit guardians of her precious breath, if breathe indeed like common folk she did. “Now,” thought Feargus, “if she weeps for me I am glad of my coming; but gin she greets for other cause, and this new faith hath hardened her against her old friends, then will the head of Feargus hang this night over the lintel of king Sigmund, and Penda will know that Feargus hath broken his word which as a youth he swore on his father’s sword, and his name will go down without honour among the Albanich, and his enemy Osbert will rejoice.” Then Feargus walked out towards the garden and, drawing his harp, sang the simple song which he had made in riding through the woods that morning. Done with great freedom from the old English into the new it ran thus:—

MY HEART DOTH BEAT

“My heart doth beat for thou art fair,

As Luga’s shower[3] thy glowing hair,

As down thy soft white cheeks and red,

As fleecy clouds thy pale forehead.

“Oh, never man had love so meet,

Oh, never maiden face so sweet,

Oh, ne’er will be so sad a heart

As mine shouldst thou bid me depart.

“But shouldst thou whisper, ‘Lover, stay,

I cannot live an thou’rt away,

So I the whole world will defy

To have my sweetheart ever nigh;’

“Then all these clouds will turn to rose

As at an August evening’s close,

And mating song-birds in the brake

Will sing of love for thy dear sake.”

Torfrida paused in her walk when the first notes fell upon her ear. She heard the song right through and smiled sadly and wept a little, and then turned swiftly and ran through the green bushes and threw her arms round the tall minstrel with a little cry of joy. And when she had found her tongue she said—

“Feargus, O Feargus! what dost thou here? If the men of Sigmund do but see thee, then neither I nor any other can save thee.”

“Then thou art of a mind, sweet Torfrida, to save the enemy of Sigmund and the conqueror of the Christians.”

“Thou hast wronged me if ever thou hast thought that I could betray thee; but what brings thee here?” she added, with a woman’s disingenuousness.

“Thyself, Torfrida.”

“Myself!”

“Nay now, thou well knowest ’tis thyself; never since the day thy father took thee away has there been any joy in the world for Feargus, nor will be till thou art back.”

“Back, ah! that I will never be, noble Feargus, slayer of Christians though thou art—but get thee hence, for hast thou not broken Penda’s bidding by coming into this land?”

“That have I, and that must I again, if I may not see thee without, for thou, Torfrida, hast the heart of Feargus.”

“And thou that of Torfrida.”

Long time they stood with hands locked, and much they spake, till the maidens of Torfrida came out to seek their mistress. Then said Torfrida, “Never again must thou come, O Feargus, for an the men of Penda or of my father caught thee, even though death were not dealt to thee, thou wouldest be for ever disgraced.”

“I cannot live without seeing thee, sweet Torfrida, and must come.”

“Nay, rather will I ride forth to meet thee on Penda’s land than that thou shouldst break thine oath to the king.”

“Brave indeed thou art, but I am loth to break my faith with the old man, though sorry that thou shouldst run into danger.”

“Nay, little danger will it be to me in my father’s land, and in Penda’s thy presence will shield me from all questions.”

And so they left it, and many times Torfrida rode out to meet her lover on the verge of king Penda’s land.

And Penda waxed more and more bitter against the Christians, while Feargus’s ardour grew less and less as he learnt something of their faith from Torfrida, for hard she beset him. At length it fell one evening that king Sigmund asked for his daughter, and her maidens could not find her; high and low they looked, but in vain, till at nightfall she returned, and Sigmund asked whither she had been, and Torfrida blushed and at length told the king her father, and he was much angered.

“So thou hast been holding tryst with thy father’s foe, and thou a Christian!”

Then Torfrida wept and asked forgiveness.

“Nay, I cannot forgive thee till thou hast broken this bond with young Feargus. The Christian may not wed with the worshipper of false gods. I little thought that child of mine could wish to wed with one who had lifted his hand against me.”

And then Sigmund sent for the priest who dwelt with them, and he was wrath and forbade her trysting with Feargus, and they kept her a prisoner in her room until such times, said her father, as she promised to abandon her lover.

And at the end of a month they came to her for an answer, and she said: “Never will I break my troth with Feargus, or wed other, Christian or heathen, for that I love him; and where love is, God will not and man may not come between; if he is infidel, will he not surely need a Christian to wife the more?”

And there was anger between Sigmund and Torfrida, for he was wishful that she should strengthen his hands by wedding a Christian king. So Torfrida sent her brother Edwy secretly to meet Feargus at their tryst, to bid him beware, and Feargus turned homewards heavy-hearted.

Now it happened that at this time Penda sent Feargus as a messenger to Northumbria, and there he fell in with one of the Christian priests of his own race, who took a liking to the young Pict, and Feargus, being by no means as bitter against the Christian as was his master Penda, listened to all he had to say, and received it kindly. So that before leaving he told the priest if it had not been for his duty to the old king and to his father, he would have almost become a Christian, whereupon the priest tried to show him that being of this mind his duty to his Maker was before that to his king and father.

“Such is not the law of my father’s people,” said Feargus, “for if I betray my trust to my master, how will I be fit to keep that to the God of the Christians. If thou canst overcome the old king with thy reasoning I will be glad, but if thou canst not, then must I yet stand by him to the end, and his enemies will still be mine.”

Feargus went his way southward till he won home again, but from that day much of the merry youthfulness of him died, and he walked with knotted brow and doubting heart and no longer sang blithely the war songs of the Albanich, but chose the plaintive and sorrowful ones instead, that suited best his spirit. And he could see dimly that in the days to come the new faith would rise triumphant over all lets and hindrances soever, for in it was truth so great and so plain withal that men had but to hearken to be overcome, and in the future he saw trouble for Penda and trouble for himself.

And when he reached home he found that Penda was making ready to march upon king Sigmund and had sworn to burn his city and harry his land, and Feargus was much troubled; for he knew that he must lift his hand against the kin of Torfrida—and what might not happen to her in the press and thick of the fight, when men spared neither old nor young; and how would her people let her marry with him who entered their land as a destroyer? And one day, as he was riding abroad, a man dressed as a beggar came up and drew close to him and whispered as he passed, and Feargus started, and, gathering his reins from the beast’s neck, rode on all that night and, at the morning, came to a wood. By this he lingered, until at noon he heard the sound of hoofs and saw Torfrida with two maidens accompanying her on palfreys; and he took her in his arms and kissed her, and saw that she was pale and careworn.

“I have come, O Feargus, to ask thee to spare my father and my kin for love of me; for know I well and all the world that if king Penda marches against us, my father will be overthrown; for his might is not like that of Penda, nor his captains like Penda’s captains.”

Then the water burst forth his eyes as he answered, “I would do much to serve king Penda, more would I do to serve thee; yet to Penda I plighted myself before I plighted myself to thee, and on my father’s sword I swore, so I cannot break my troth, sweet Torfrida, though my heart be torn in twain with grief for thee. Let me tell thee, also, Torfrida, that since I saw thee I have been persuaded that thy new faith is true, and that a greater power than of Penda’s will be needed to tear it from men’s minds. Yet I am his man; he is old and I would not desert him at this hour, even though I could without dishonour; for the old man, grim though he be at times, is steadfast in friendship as he is terrible in battle, and from a youth he hath cared for me and taught me as his son and not less steadfast shall he find me.”

“Thou hast said thou lovest me above all things else, yet wilt thou destroy me and my kin; thou art a Christian, yet wilt thou destroy the Christians.”

“A hard saying is that thou hast said: weep not so, my golden-haired one—thy sickness hath turned thy mind in this matter—in a different mood thou spokest when last we met in this place.”

“Call me no longer thy golden-haired one, and get thee hence, thou killer of Christians; with the aid of thee and thine Sigmund might turn the battle against Penda, but thou hast denied it; get thee hence; never more shalt thou gaze upon Torfrida.”

“Say not so—thou art beside thyself, and thy father hath prevailed upon thee to say these things—thou wilt not away, Torfrida, till I take my farewell of thee!”

But Torfrida pulled her rein and smote her horse and rode on, and Feargus neither moved nor spoke, but white like a dead man stood and gazed after her.

CHAPTER III
THE BATTLE BY TRENT WATER

But a few days later king Penda’s host was ready and they marched eastwards from the town of Lichfield, where Penda was then staying, intending to cross the Trent water below Nottingham, which stood beside the forest of Sherwood. And soon king Sigmund knew of Penda’s coming and started out to meet him, with all his strength, and thinking to fall upon him before he reached Trent, marched west from Lindum city, then, crossing the river, turned southwards through the forest. But Penda learnt of his coming, and in the night time hastening on with swiftness, took up a strong position below the high banks which skirt the river to the east a little below Nottingham. There he hid his men among the woods on the banks above, and mid the broom on the plain below, leaving the lowlands to the westward free to the Lindeseymen. And Feargus was in great sorrow at finding himself of the party. And through the day there was no stir or sound amongst all that great host. At length towards evening they beheld the banners of their foes. Then the Mercians sprung to life, and they filled all the narrow plain that lay between the cliffs and the river with foot, and the left wing with the horse under Osbert marched south hoping to reach the rear, ready to ford the stream and attack the Lindeseymen from the west and so drive them in upon the archers and footmen of Feargus and Wulfere, who, hidden by the wood and brambles, lined all the cliffs on the east side of Trent. In the narrow plain below, opposite the ford, stood Penda, commanding the centre and waiting without movement the coming of Sigmund. Soon the plain to the north and west was filled with a great array of foot and horsemen, and when Feargus beheld them from his post on the cliff his heart fluttered and he forgot his troubles a while, for he was in very soul a warrior and the sight of that armed host was like strong wine to him. Sigmund had meanwhile sent a large party of bowmen across the river to hold the cliffs. Feargus thereupon called to Wulfere to command the bowmen, while he gathered his foot and went out to meet the foe, seeing that the men who must decide this battle were in his hand. The enemy below being now within bowshot, the bowmen of Wulfere sent a shower of arrows forth such as astonished those men of Lindesey; for till now they had seen no sign of life in the wood or anywhere but in front of them, where fluttered the banner of Penda. And they marched on, their ranks falling in whole lines before the terrible arrows, which flew from the very cliffs which Sigmund had sent the flower of his army to win, thinking that the Mercians had only just arrived. Still the white-haired Penda sat motionless upon his beast and took no note of the weak reply that was made to them by the archers Sigmund had kept with him. Then suddenly a great cry arose in the rear of Sigmund’s army, as the horsemen of Osbert, who had worked round to their flank from the south, fell upon them, followed by many companies of foot. Sigmund looked anxiously to where his bow and footmen should be, on the cliff, but at that moment the Picts under Feargus, with Welsh from Wales, and Welsh also who still dwelt in Mercia, and with the famous British bowmen of Arden and the Warwickshire woodlands under king Penda, and many English, burst out from the woods; and they drove the Lindeseymen before them like sheep, so fiercely and suddenly they leapt forth. Then was the heather blood bedewed, and the golden broom turned to red, and ever the Picts and Welsh pushed on and the men of Sigmund held back, till at last they were driven over the cliffs, and Feargus sent the Welsh after them down the bank, they being lightest of foot. And they beat them down towards the plain below where was king Sigmund. And the arrows of the Mercians darkened the very lift, and Penda himself had now moved on against the king, and when he beheld him Sigmund was adread, and his warriors stood still; for all men went in fear of Penda. Then Sigmund saw his men driven down from the cliffs to the north-east before the dread cry “Albanich! Albanich!” and he knew that there were Feargus and his Picts. And still he cried, “On, on!” but little room was there left for sword play on that narrow strath by the great river, for the press of the men driven in by Feargus on the east and by Osbert on the west became so great that friend struck friend unwittingly, and no man had room to ply his arms. King Sigmund down in the glen now saw that all was lost, and he wound his horn that those who could might escape, and himself, with many good footmen, held the ford against the centre of the Mercian host led by Penda. Slowly but grimly Sigmund gave back, step by step, until many of his bowmen had gained the west side of Trent water, and then all that remained plunged into the river and fled towards the forest with the king. And shouts of “Kill, kill!” arose from the Mercians and, like dogs let loose, they broke their ranks and fell upon the fugitives.

Then Feargus wound his horn and strove to stay the slaughter, but little sense had the most of them left; they were drunk with blood, and only his own men gathered around him. And the rush of the Lindeseymen was ever towards Lindum, their city; some fled through the forest there to ford the stream, and some turned east and made their way into the fens, and the Mercians followed those that fled through the forest and those that fled up the east bank of Trent. Feargus’s thoughts were for Torfrida and to save Sigmund, if it might be. Seeing that Penda had kept together a great body of men about him and was safe from surprise, Feargus horsed as many of his followers as he could find beasts for, and the rest held each a stirrup and ran with them afoot. The chase lasted till midnight when they came within sight of Sigmund’s city of Lincoln or Lindum, which stood high on a great hill; but already the Mercians were at its gates; some had scaled the walls and some were in fight with the fugitives as they came up. Riding hard across the plain below, Feargus saw fire burst from one of the ports; a great shout followed, and now all the sky was filled with flames and smoke and myriads of sparks; for a moment the men slackened their speed, awe-stricken, at the savage sight. Feargus saw that the town had fallen, and, leaving his men behind, dashed on like a madman. When he neared the gate the fire lighted up the bloody hands and faces of the besiegers, flushed with drink and victory, and he shuddered as he beheld them—little mercy would king or lady get from these men, and, spurring his horse, he burst through the press, and when they heard his cry, “Albanich! Albanich!” they made way, though with curses at being turned from their prey. Through the burning town he rode; one or two tried to stay him, but he dashed them fiercely aground, and at last drew up by the hall of Sigmund. Here the press was thicker, and he saw the door was down and the drunken rout were in; and coarse jests and oaths and shrieks filled the air. Then Feargus sprang from his beast and burst in, crying, “Back, back!” but the soldiers heeded him not, and one even turned and struck him. Now a giant was Feargus, his red head stood out a full span above the dark-haired Britons of Arden forest and the pale-haired English of the towns, and he laid hold of him who struck, by the waist, and lightly tossed him out through the open door, and then, not wishing to slay any, seized an oaken staff and dealt blows right and left; each one he struck was quickly sobered and asked for no more. At length he gained the hall. There he found the Mercians gathered also, but he burst through them to the king’s chamber where he beheld Sigmund’s youngest son, Edwy, with half-a-dozen stalwart thanes. At his feet lay his two brothers, dead; while behind, crouching to the floor, her hands clasped in prayer and her knees wet with the blood of the slain, was Torfrida. Hard bestead were those brave Lindeseymen, and wounded and sore with fighting; before them were many Mercian thanes, while others tried to force a way in at the door. These Feargus roughly seized and thrust to right and left until he won in.

“Stay, Mercians,” he shouted to the combatants, but they heeded him not, and so, pushing one away, he stepped to the side of Edwy and drew his sword, shouting, “I am your captain: stand back, Mercians!”

Then, seeing who it was that bid them, they forbore.

“Enough killing have ye done this day,” said he. Then, speaking to Edwy, he pledged his safety; so Edwy submitted, he and the thanes, as his prisoners. Feargus turned to Torfrida, but she had fainted; so he lifted her and carried her out into the air, for the building was all aflame, and they followed. At the gate Feargus found Duncan, his captain and many of his men seeking him, and he sent round and gathered the rest, with many English and Welsh who loved him, and they placed the prisoners in their midst and rode towards Penda’s land. As they went they found that the more part of the city had been burnt by the Mercians; and Feargus was heavy-hearted for Torfrida’s kin, and his conscience pricked him for the slaying of so many Christians. And no man knew whence king Sigmund had departed.

Now it chanced that Penda had been told of the love of Feargus for Torfrida, by Osbert, his enemy; and, though the king loved Feargus much, he felt anger against him, and Osbert had even advised him secretly to seize the Pict. So when Penda learnt from the thanes who had slain her two brethren, of the saving of Torfrida and Edwy by Feargus, he sent for the prisoners, and ordered Torfrida to be imprisoned and the boy Edwy and his thanes to be slain. When Feargus heard of this he hied him to Penda and stood up, and said he—

“O king Penda, sore have we wrought against Sigmund and his kin, and many men of his have we slain, little boots it to slay this boy or the faithful thanes who fought for him, in cold blood. Right well they wrought and soldierly against thy thanes, but an unsoldierly death wouldst thou deal to them; oh, never will the light of day seem fair to thy captain Feargus if the blood of these warriors stains the sword of his king. Doth the conqueror of Edwin, and Oswald, and Sigeberht, and Ceanwealh, and Sigmund need the blood of a boy who hath only once wielded war brand?”

“I have spoken,” said the king; “thou art over bold.”

Then said Feargus again, “Call me not so, king Penda; never canst thou mean that this boy must die and no greater thing against him than that he was ready to stand up fighting to the last, as though he had been in full manhood.”

“That surely I mean.”

“Then, O king, for the fellowship that is between us give not thy hand to this work, for not only will it hurt me—for the Albanich war not on children—but thee, also, will it hurt before the eyes of all the world.”

“I have said, and thou and all here have but to obey, and there are few, as thou wottest, who would have dared, as thou hast, to look askance at what I do; but ware thee lest thou carriest this thing too far, and keep well thy tongue. These and all the enemies of Odin shall die.”

“Thou hast gained a victory over Sigmund and great will thy praise be, and I, though no kin of thine, in payment of thy teaching for years past, have done something to get thee that victory and many more besides like to it, yet thou wilt not grant me so little a boon as this boy’s life and this maiden’s liberty, even though as thou wottest they are Albanich by the mother’s side, if not of my tribe.”

“Get thee hence,” roared the king, “thou art forgetting thyself; hence and stay till I send for thee: hence, I say!”

CHAPTER IV
THE FLIGHT

Feargus went forth from Penda’s hall in an angry mood and sought out Edwy as he was being taken to the tower wherein they were to cast him and spoke in his ear. The killing was fixed for the morrow. At midnight Feargus arose, and, taking his sword, entered the king’s stable and led therefrom seven beasts of best blood with all their trappings, riding them into the forest hard by the town. He then went to the building wherein lay Edwy with his thanes; he whistled thrice, till one appeared at the window high up in the tower. Then Feargus drew forth a light cord and threw it up that they caught it, and therewith drew up a stouter one. Fastening this above, they slid down it to the ground, until the whole seven of them stood beside him, the last to descend being the boy Edwy.

“Thou art great of heart for thy years, brother, and gentle withal,” said Feargus; “thy stoutness will all be needed this night; but for thy sister Torfrida have no fear, for I swear to thee that nought ill shall befall her while I have life; and if I die, my kin and thine shall avenge her; so be ye comforted. She should have ridden with thee this night, but she is prisoned in the very halls of the king where none may enter.” Then, having reached the wood, they mounted their beasts and Feargus kissed the boy, and “May the God of the Christians speed ye,” said he, and they departed.

Then Feargus returned to his lodging and threw himself down; but he was uneasy for Torfrida’s safety so that he slept little, and in the morning he arose betimes and donned his arms and went forth. He had gone but a little way before he heard a great noise and saw many people running hither and thither, so he asked one, Oscar, the king’s seneschal, what might be amiss.

“Have you not heard, noble Feargus, that the youth Edwy Sigmundsson with all his thanes have broken their prison, and have entered the king’s stable and taken therefrom seven fleet horses and are away. And the king is so wrath that all men are adread of him.”

“Seek no more, good Oscar, for here at your hand is the thief and the prison-breaker.”

“What mean you?”

“That I, Feargus, let the birds free and broke the king’s stable.”

“If thou wilt be advised thou wilt tell none other that news.”

“Thanks to thee; but the king hath an evil counsellor who will see my hand in this and will be ready to do my cause an injury therewith, so I will hie me straight to Penda and be beforehand with him.”

“Then may the gods defend thee, for never saw I the king more wrath.”

So Feargus turned him towards the hall where the king sat; there he found Penda, white with rage, fiercely pacing the floor. At his side was Osbert, who, as he turned and saw Feargus, started violently, for his name had been at that moment on his lips.

“Call in thy messengers, king Penda,” said Feargus, “for vainly they seek Edwy Sigmundsson; he is away, and he who set him free and broke thy stable for beasts to carry him and his thanes stands before thee.”

Then the king swore a great oath, and snatching up a heavy spear which stood beside him, hurled it at the speaker; but Feargus moved quickly aside and the weapon flew past him and, striking the wall, buried itself therein. Feargus stood still again, calmly eyeing the king. Not so, however, his captain Duncan, who was ever at his back, eagle-eyed but jovial of countenance; as the king threw, his sword leapt over his shoulder whereupon he carried it, and the king being without arms drew back a pace.

“Put up thy sword, good Duncan,” said Feargus, “and pray the king to pardon thee, for thou wert ever hasty; but no thought of unfaithfulness to the king hadst thou, that will I be sworn.”

“Now I pray thee, king Penda, that though thou mayest not pardon me, thou wilt pardon my faithful and much-loved Duncan, in whom thy friend my father had great pride; for not among all thy men canst thou find his equal.”

Now the king ever loved boldness, and in secret smiled at Duncan, though fiercely he spake.

“Well thou sayest, else death should have both him and thee, for all that I am not unmindful of thy services: it shall be long ere thou shalt again stand in this hall. Take thou,” he said, turning to the seneschal Oscar, “the chief Feargus, and put him in the great tower, and with water and bread feed him, and there let him remain.”

So they took Feargus, who went readily, and they treated him fair, he being much beloved by them, and left him his sword, for no need had they, said Oscar, to put a slight upon him who stood so well in the sight of all men. But great was the wrath of the Picts when they saw their chief led away captive; for they cared not for Penda, or whether he were Christian or whether heathen, but only for their leader, and him they followed through the town to his prison, with Duncan at their head; and they were mighty and tall men and thick of limb, and ever ready in a desperate fight. Then Feargus minded them of the wishes of Nechtan their king, telling them to obey Penda and stay quiet. So they obeyed, but of their own will divided themselves into two bodies, the one half of them lying down outside the prison of Feargus, and the other half beneath the windows of Torfrida. So they kept Feargus in knowledge of all that happened, and he was greatly comforted to know they lay and watched for Torfrida. And daily they played outside his prison on the clarsach and on the pipes the noble songs of the Albanich.

When Penda heard that they lay day and night outside the prison of their chief and of Torfrida, he was not unpleased, for he loved ever the faithful and the bold, and was secretly ashamed that he had been led into cruelty, such as had never stained his name, by Osbert’s evil influence. So at length, after a month had passed, he minded him of their services and sent for Duncan, who pleaded hard for Torfrida that she might be set free; for such was the wish of Feargus. The king’s heart smote him for Torfrida, but Osbert and his brethren and Edgar his cousin told him that Feargus loved Torfrida and was himself being converted to the faith of the Christians and would yet be on the side of Sigmund and the Northumbrians. And though Penda refused to believe that Feargus could be unfaithful to him, yet he was swayed somewhat by their counsel oft repeated. So Feargus still chafed in his prison and was much troubled about many matters. There was little hope that he might ever again see Torfrida, and he had much doubt in his mind, for that the king was so deadly an enemy to the Christians, of whom he himself was one; yet the idea of leaving Penda he could not brook. Two months passed and they brought him word that Torfrida lay sick, and he ground his teeth and beat his breast in despair; then Duncan, with Alastair, his captains, wished him to let them break his prison and release Torfrida and depart with her to Alban.

“What would then happen to all ye who stayed behind,” said he, “nothing less than death, and how would Nechtan think of him who had broken oath to Penda and left his men to die? Nay, good Duncan, it cannot be. Never will I break troth with thee or with the king.”

Then Duncan went once more to Penda and said—

“Now, king, we come from our chief, the noble Feargus, than whom thou hast no more faithful soldier, to pray thee to set free the lady Torfrida, his true love, who now lieth sick; for she hath been bred in the halls of kings and not in dungeons, and in the darkness fadeth. Ill hast thou requited our chief for all he hath wrought for thee, and us his clansmen, who have wielded war brands for thee. Thy manner of treating thy warriors is little like to that of the noble chiefs of our land, king Brude and king Nechtan.”

Half angry at Duncan and half merry at his boldness, Penda said, “Thy master hath in thee a saucy servant; in sooth thou art fitter to deal blows than to deliver messages.”

Then he turned to Osbert and Edgar and together they spoke, and the king was for freeing Torfrida, but Osbert counselled the king, and he said, “Go back to the chief and tell him that Torfrida shall go free to her father’s land with many to keep her in safety, but only if he swears to hold no tryst with her, nor seek, nor see, nor speak with her more for ever.”

Then the merry face of Duncan darkened and his eyes flashed angrily. “Now woe am I to take back so sad a message, and woe shall it be to him who comes between where true love is.”

“Out, impudent dog, or such freedom as I offer her shall be denied.”

So Duncan, full of anger, betook himself back to the tower of Feargus and told him the message. Then the strong man broke down, and he saw in this not the hand of Penda only, but of his enemies.

The days passed and still they came with long faces stammering out that she was worse, and nightly in his thoughts he beheld the sweet and tender one in the dark cell, where the golden hair shone in vain for none might see and admire. Many days he endured till at last they brought him word that she lay dying, and his heart stood still. Then in his grief he sent for Duncan and told him, “Go thou and seek king Penda, for I cannot live thus longer; tell him that Feargus will promise anything, do anything, if he will but release the lady Torfrida. And I swear to thee, my captain, that an she dies, then will I strike the proud king dead (though I know he liketh me well), and Osbert and Edgar my enemies atop of him, and over all that death pile shall I lie sword stricken in the hall of Penda.”

So Duncan went again to Penda, taking with him Alastair his cousin, the others waiting about outside, and they two agreed that if the king refused, then they would fall upon him and kill him while the others should release Torfrida, seize the king’s sons, Peada and Wulfere, and getting them all aboard ship, sail to their own land, they knowing well that nothing would happen to Feargus while the king’s sons were in their hands. Then Duncan told Penda that Torfrida lay a-dying and that his master was nigh beside himself. This time the king was alone, save for his sons, who were good men both, and the king said—

“So my little Torfrida dwineth—so shall all the enemies of the gods; yet I am sorry that it should have come to thee, child. Thou wert ever a favourite with me, Torfrida! Penda was not wont to war with children. Set her free, good Duncan, set her free, and see to it that she lacketh nothing; and thou sayest my brave Feargus is sad—young fool—let him walk free too.”

“That will I gladly.”

“Nay, not so fast, thou saucy dog—he is strong, none stronger, a day or two will not hurt him. Set her free at once, if we free them together they will be for leave taking—no, let him stay where he now is till such time as I tell thee; but say to him that he may be of good heart, for he shall be speedily freed.”

“That were a mockery, king, for of good heart will he never be since thou hast forbidden him the lady Torfrida.”

And so Torfrida was set free, but she lay for many days ere she could gain strength to walk. And Osbert went to the king, knowing that Torfrida was to be released, and offered to escort the lady; for so had he plotted, thinking thus to get her into his own hands.

And Penda said that, as she was a king’s daughter, he could do no less than send a king’s son with her, for escort, and fifty men, and so it was settled.

When Feargus heard this he sent again to Penda, seeing Osbert’s hand, and Duncan boldly told the king that Osbert wanted the lady Torfrida, and that he was the enemy of Feargus, and they would not trust her with him.

“Darest thou to speak thus against a king’s son, and the wealthiest thane of my court, and make these charges.”

“The Albanich care not for kings or thanes except their own, and them only obey; as to us, we swore to king Nechtan to do to the utmost for his son, and I tell thee, king Penda, that we will go with the lady too or else thou shalt shoot us all down.”

“Surely thou advancest in boldness; the sooner thy chief cometh to lead thee the better, for, were I thy master, I would lead thee with a halter, and by the gods, wert thou the servant of any other man, thou shouldst now be dangling from the town wall.”

“King, thou hast imprisoned the noble Feargus, who loved thee and who hath fought for thee as none other hath, and fearful oath hast thou drawn from him; if thou now givest his lady into the hands of the villain Osbert, and destroyest his captain, his cup will be full.”

“Thou mayest take thy men with Torfrida, and thyself—but hark ye, never again enter thou this hall; for surely nothing hath saved thee but the fact that thy chief loveth thee.”

CHAPTER V
THE PARTING OF FEARGUS AND TORFRIDA

Then Duncan went swiftly to tell Feargus, and he was glad beyond measure that his men were to accompany Torfrida.

“Now I need not tell ye, Duncan, to arm ye all with your best and take the fleetest horses, and if Osbert hath laid any trap, seize ye him instantly and, whoever else may escape, let not him. But if he hath with him fifty men, like yourself, ye need fear nothing, for he knoweth well his men who serve for money are no match for thine who serve for love. But all of this thou wottest of thyself: I have little need to tell thee.” So Duncan went forth on the day set for the journey and gathered his men, and Osbert brought his friends also.

Then Torfrida rode out on a horse litter, for she was weak still, and pale; and only two maidens rode with her. Seeing Duncan, she beckoned to him to ride beside her; then speaking in Gaelic, which she was well able to do, her mother having been of the Pictish race, she said, “Duncan, my friend, leave me not to this man, nor let him ride beside or near me, for I loathe him. To him it is we owe the overthrowing of thy chief; do not trust him with thy safety, nor that of thy men; surely great number of warriors he bringeth.”

And Osbert was for setting out on the moment, but Duncan stayed him while he counted his men, then, turning to Osbert, he said—

“The number of my men is but fifty, but thou hast with thee not less than fifty and twenty gentlemen; a halt we will call till my cousin, Alastair, hath fetched hither twenty men of ours.”

Then said Osbert, “I come not here to parley with thee. I speak with thanes and princes, and all such as thou have but to obey: fall in, therefore, behind my men.”

At this Alastair glowered and laid his hand upon his sword, but Duncan, who was of an easier temper, answered—

“Nay, we are all daoine-uasil[4] and of better blood than thine. Thou knowest well, prince, that such parleying as this will avail us nothing. If thou wishest seventy men, seventy let it be, since thy will is higher than that of Penda, who said we might take each of us fifty; but an thou takest seventy or any other number, then will I do likewise; but I must first report me to the king, lest my chief or myself get the blame for the breaking of his orders.”

Then Osbert bit his lip and swore to be revenged on the Pict. So they took each fifty men, and Duncan ordered his company to arrange themselves round the person of Torfrida, he himself riding on one side of her with drawn sword and Alastair on the other, so they had Osbert and his men in front; but Osbert, seeing this, was angry and asked wherefore the Picts had arranged themselves to bring up the rear.

“Nay, prince, thou art the king’s son, methought it fit and proper that thou shouldst ride in front, while I, who am but a captain and a chief’s son, should ride in the rear with the prisoner, leastwise this is after the manner of the Albanich, and king Penda hath no bond from us that we are to live after the customs of the Mercians, but rather our own way. Such is my wish to please thee, however, that if ye like to order my men otherwise ye may do so—thou wilt find them wondrous meek of manner and easy of persuasion.”

Osbert knew this for irony, and answered, “So thou sayest, but, as I have no wish to pick a quarrel with the like of thee, I will allow this point; but I must tell thee, that it is proper the lady should ride with me, who am the chief of the party, and among my thanes, they being of her rank. Otherwise king Sigmund will say we have not shown respect to his daughter, and Penda hath said at all times that the lady Torfrida was to be treated gently and above the common, for he regardeth her greatly.”

“As thou wishest, sir prince, but thou mayest have the ordering of this thing, for my men look upon the maiden as the lady of our chief, Feargus, and therefore their mistress, and the Picts, as ye call them, are ill to give up what is their own.”

Feargus thrust his body through the opening, and held Torfrida in his arms and kissed her, and she him.

Finding all argument vain, Osbert said no more. So they set forth, and the Albanich, with Torfrida in their midst, turned along the road which led to the prison of Feargus, at which Osbert chafed. And Duncan, knowing that it would fetch Feargus to the window, ordered his men to sound their pipes, and so it happened as Duncan had foreseen, for Feargus hearing them, came to watch them, pale and grief stricken, and beheld Torfrida as she rode between his captains, and she him. Then Duncan, though he knew that Penda had denied the parting, ordered his men to halt, but Osbert was for going forward.

“On my head then be it,” said Duncan, taking Torfrida’s horse by the bridle and leading it below his master’s window. Then Feargus fell to greeting, and cried, “My faithful Duncan, I wot well that of thyself thou hast done this thing.”

And Duncan made his men mount on to each others’ backs, and the topmost placed their shields together, and he stood upright in the saddle, Alastair doing likewise, and between them they lifted Torfrida from where she lay sick in the litter on to the shields, till she stood as high as the window of Feargus; then the men, and all they that stood about, cheered, but Osbert chafed and wanted on. Then Feargus seized the great bars that fenced the window, which only perhaps the mighty Duncan and Alastair, of all the mighty men who stood in that throng, could have as much as stirred, but such was the strength of him, and such his love, that the bars shook and bent, then parted asunder from the walls that held them, and he thrust his body through the opening and held her in his arms and often kissed her and she him. But never a word he spake though she wept much, and cried, “Alack, never more shall I behold thee; never more shall we ride a hunting together in the wild wood; never will Torfrida fare with thee to the land of thy kin.”

And fiercely she clung to his neck and wildly wept when they needs must part them. And, as they rode on, the tongue of Feargus was loosened, and lifting his voice he called aloud, “Torfrida! Torfrida!” and so called; and at first his voice was faint and hoarse, but at the last so mighty was the shout that the town rang with it. Till soon she, and they who rode with her, became but as a speck in the far distance, though still his eye seemed to see her through mist and dust, and still he called aloud her name that all the townsmen gathered beneath and thought him mad, and even the king sitting in his hall heard that wild shout and shuddered, and as he lay in his bed through the night it uprose, till the very winds seemed to catch the burthen and shriek “Torfrida!”

CHAPTER VI
THE FALL OF FEARGUS

When those who had taken Torfrida into Lindesey to her father had returned, the king sent for Oscar and bade him release Feargus, and so he walked once more a free man; but free or fettered it made little difference to him at that time, for the parting with Torfrida, and the oath drawn from him, had well nigh broken his heart. And much he longed to pick a quarrel with Osbert and his cousin Edgar. Osbert himself was sullen, for that his plan had been thwarted by Duncan’s cunning, and, moreover, he found himself of smaller count with the king. For Penda now showed much favour to Feargus, as if to atone to him somewhat; for the things which Duncan had said in his wrath had opened the king’s eyes and he no longer so fully trusted Osbert. But the thane had a large following, as had his cousin, and was, moreover, a leader of great skill, being, after Feargus, the first captain of all his host, and the king could not throw over so powerful an ally. So Penda and Feargus became friends as ever, but Duncan and his men never forgave the king for his treatment of their chief, though they kept their anger to themselves. At this time Penda went out once more against the Christians, and marched into East Anglia, and there slew its king, Anna, and laid its lands waste, giving its cities to the flames. In all this work Feargus had a hand, and he was grieved thereat.

It chanced when the Mercians had returned to their own land word came that Oswy, king of Northumbria, was arming, and that Sigmund and many another king had joined him. So Penda had hardly won home before he made ready to meet them, but, when they were marching forth, there came messengers in great haste, saying that the kings feared to attack him and had turned them back to seek their own lands. So the fame of Penda reached through all the breadth of the land, and his rule was felt even as far to the south as London.

So there was peace, and Feargus, finding his work done, dwelt more upon the memory of Torfrida, till one day as he was riding the desire to see her came so strongly upon him that for a moment he wavered, and was for starting off there and then to seek her, but he minded him of his oath to Penda. And he wrung his hands in despair, and once more set aside the thought, but a great gloom sat still upon him so that he was no longer bright or merry, but walked ever like one in trouble. They were staying at that time at Nottingham, and one night he arose and donned his minstrel’s garb and took down his harp, and said he—

“Why should I, for promise wrung from me through my enemy when she lay near to death, not see her more, whom not to see is worse than death—oh, cruel promise! And what can Penda ask as forfeit should I break my oath—life? Why an he denies me love he may take it, for without Torfrida life were of little worth. Now shall I break that oath though all the world henceforth call me liar and traitor. Alas! I that never broke oath or promise—I who have served my master, and fought against Christ rather than desert my king and so break the oath I swore to him and my father. Alas! that I should have seen the day; it were better to die, and yet will I not die, so long as Torfrida lives, but will even now see her. Come, sword, thou wilt carve a way to men’s hearts, whether thy master be traitor or true.”

So taking his claymore[5] in his hand he went out and found Duncan, trusting him with his secret, and Duncan said no word of dispraise, but smiled and said, “May the gods speed thee.”

Then Feargus rode out into the night, and entered the forest of Sherwood and, keeping the line of the Trent water, rode northwards till he came to the castle of Newark; here finding a boat, he crossed the river and took his road eastwards, and no man asked him whither he went or whence he came, he being dressed in the garb of a minstrel. And right cunningly he could play when need was, for he loved the harp better than the sword. On he fared until he reached Lincoln or Lindum, wherein dwelt Torfrida. He entered in boldly at the great gate and took his way into the town, mounting the brae on which stood the castle of Sigmund. Walking round the castle walls, at length he found the great garden, and there he placed himself where he might see any that walked therein but might not himself be seen, for he wished that Torfrida should not know of his coming, thinking to content himself by the sight of her and depart. So shortly after the evening meal he saw one walking towards his hiding place: he knew it was Torfrida and his heart leapt. Then he arose among the bushes and saw that no person was with her, it being her custom to walk alone. Long time he stood there, and then the thought arose in him—why should he not speak with her? She seemed sad and heavy-eyed, and never again might he behold her. Then thoughts of his broken oath and dishonoured name held him back once more. Now she turned and gave a little sigh; now her gaze wandered towards the place where he stood, as if her soul knew that one she sighed for was there, though her mind knew it not. That look decided his wavering—how might he withstand those eloquent eyes! Softly he struck a few familiar chords; she started, paused; he continued the air softly, then stepped forth, and in a moment she had thrown herself into his arms, weeping wildly and too glad to speak. At length she said—

“Now hasten thee away, for if thou art seen the death of the spy will be thine, and none of thy good deeds shall save thee.”

“Is this all, Torfrida, thou hast to say to one who hath thrown away even his troth and his worship for thee—naught but ‘Get thee hence’?”

“Nay, now, thou knowest that I would keep thee and never send thee hence; but I would see thee again, and this if any find thee here I am not like to do, and—there! thou shalt have a kiss for thy hardihood in coming. Nay, now, let me go; I kissed thee, but did not tell thee to kiss me. See, thou hast ruffled my hair which is only now new done. Stop, stop, thou hast taken kisses enough to last thee a twelvemonth!”

“Then thou wouldest rather that I took only such as would last me a shorter time that I may come again the sooner. O sly Torfrida! but that I may keep in with thee I swear that these I have taken shall last but twelve days, when thou shalt see me again.”

“Nay, let me beg of thee—if thou shouldst be discovered!”

“I can but die, and as well for Torfrida as for Penda.”

So Feargus departed and reached Penda’s land, but in trembling and like a guilty man he went, for his heart lay heavy in him at the breaking of his oath, and he found Duncan waiting upon him. And Duncan seeing his master downcast feared that he had fared ill and asked of him, “What aileth thee?”

“Then thou shunnest me not, Duncan, the breaker of oaths?”

“And what for should I shun thee: for breaking oath wrung from thee in such brutal wise!”

So Feargus was greatly cast down for many days, but on the tenth day he donned his minstrel’s garb and went out and found Torfrida. Many times thereafter he went and greatly his coming troubled her, for she was afraid lest her father’s men might take him, and often she begged him to leave her.

At that time Penda was staying at Tamworth, the capital of the kingdom of Mercia, and his men were making great preparations for war, for king Oswy of Northumbria had taken upon him the overlordship of East Anglia. So Penda shook his white locks fiercely for, though the winds of eighty winters had blown through them and for thirty years he had fought against the Christians and triumphed, yet his spirit was unabated and his strength great. King Oswy also gathered his men, with him going the East Anglians and Lindiswaras, or Lindeseymen, with many others. And Torfrida was afraid for her father, for though they numbered a mighty host, yet little they thought of themselves as against king Penda.

CHAPTER VII
OF THE MEETING OF FEARGUS AND OSBERT

When the host of Penda was ready, so splendid it looked that no man had ever seen its like. By the king on either hand rode a company of kings and princes of royal blood to the number of thirty. They were English of Mercia, king Cadwalla of the Gwynedd, the British of Mercia, Southumbria, East Anglia and the fens, and even from Oswy’s own chiefly-Welsh kingdom of Northumbria; with Picts from Galloway and Lothian by the shores of Forth. It was a great and motley gathering of Christian and heathen, Angle and Kelt, and the king himself held the centre. Osbert was sent on before to gather in men whose dwellings lay by the way, and was to join the king at the Winwoed near Loidis or Leeds. Feargus longed to see Torfrida before the battle, for he knew that she was in her father’s camp and by the help of her brother Edwy thought to get speech of her; so he sent a trusty messenger to Edwy, and when they came by Nottingham he delayed and tarried behind, promising to meet the king seven days hence at the Winwoed field. So the king departed, taking with him the more part of his host, being the right wing and centre. And Feargus went forth on his great roan steed—there being few that could carry his bulk—and he donned his minstrel’s dress and entered the wood. After riding for four days he came near to where a great army was gathered, then tethering his beast to a tree he sat down. At the first glint of sunrise he heard the trampling of a horse through the dry leaves and Torfrida rode up hidden in the folds of a cloak of great size.

“At last, sweet one!” said he. “Dark it seemed while the mirk lay around, now thy presence maketh all the world bright.”

“Nay, now, this is but an ill time for fair speeches, brave Feargus; my heart is breaking with ill foreboding—nay, kisses cannot comfort me. Wilt spare my father, Feargus, and leave king Penda; hast thou no answer for me save a kiss?”

“So little value thou settest on my kisses, and yet the memory of the few thou gavest me, miser as thou art, is always with me.”

“I ask my father’s life and thou profferest a kiss; these thou canst give me in plenty, but thou canst not give me my father, Sigmund, when the arrows of king Penda have taken him once from me. A kiss for a life forsooth!”

“I would even now give my life for a kiss, Torfrida, but king Penda’s I may not give. What stirreth yon boughs? See! it is not the wind, for there is but little, and hark, the sound of hoofs! Torfrida, we are betrayed.”

“Oh, say not so. Fly, Feargus, they are my father’s men; fly, they will slay thee!”

“Thy father’s men or not, my red roan is little used to flying. Penda’s men are only taught to go right forward.”

“That shows how foolish men are; hide then thy sword that they may take thee for a peaceful minstrel, and I, thy lady.”

And so, guiding their horses aside behind the boll of a great tree, they waited until two horsemen appeared; at sight of them Feargus started. “Torfrida,” said he, “we are indeed lost—it is Osbert and Edgar; behind ride their men doubtless. Caught with the daughter of an enemy, sweetest, none will believe we are not plotting Penda’s downfall, and Osbert will take heed that none shall believe.”

“Alas! thou wert ever too ready to run great risk.”

“Kiss me, Torfrida, for henceforth I shall be shorn of name and worship and the fellowship of brave men, and thou wilt no longer wish my company.”

“Nay, speak not thus; it is for me that thou hast risked all things.”

“What cheer, sir minstrel?” shouted the newcomers.

“And what ho! ha! a woman—thou sly dog; but surely thou art a stalwart fellow for a minstrel and great of limb; a better soldier thou wouldst make.”

“A man wants but a strong arm to be a soldier; a minstrel needeth heart and mind.”

“I see thou hast no stomach for the fight; th’art doubtless faint of soul.”

“Not more faint neither than thou art thyself.”

“Ha, ha! an insolent dog! Little of the minstrel is there in thee.”

“Get thee hence on thy journey; men of my calling are not used to be treated as slaves or sword-bearers; but for all that thou hast great backing I am not adread of thee.”

“Thou hast a saucy tongue, knave. Here, lead thou his horse, and now, minstrel, strike thou a song, my men are weary, and if thou canst not play then shall ye lose your lady.”

So Feargus struck his harp, knowing that it would be fatal to him if the news of his disobedience to his oath reached the king through Osbert. So they were mighty pleased with his playing, and all would have been well and the evil of all that day had never been, but Edgar, who was riding nearest, suddenly cried: “Thou art a cunning knave, thou minstrel; thy lady hath a graceful figure, surely she will be fair of face also.” So saying he drew aside the veil that covered her face and Osbert cried out—

“Torfrida!”

But hardly had the hand of Edgar reached his side again before, with his master’s touch, the great red beast of Feargus turned swiftly and the giant minstrel, seizing his harp in both his hands, struck Edgar with it so hard that the dead face of him was such that no man knew it for that of Edgar. And so fell the third captain of king Penda.

Then said Osbert in great rage, “Stay, bowmen, your hands; back, carls, I will deal, for he hath slain my kinsman.”

Then the beast of Feargus swerved round again and faced the thane as he drew his sword.

“Nay,” said Feargus; “enough bale hath been wrought already, Osbert, and I would that thou and thy rash kinsman, whom I have slain thus hastily in high blood, should be with me on the right hand and on the left of king Penda on the day of battle. Nay, I will not do further hurt to the cause of our king by the slaying of thee; but when his enemies are scattered we can settle this quarrel—for I am Feargus.”

“Then have we here a traitor caught with the daughter of our enemy, Sigmund. Long hast thou deserved death, and now shalt thou have it, for thou hast shamed me by the slaying of my kinsman.”

“No traitor am I, Osbert, to Penda, only in trysting with the lady Torfrida, else what need had I to meet my lady in the wood, and in secret, when in this guise I might have entered the very courts of king Sigmund.”

“Defend thee, traitor,” cried Osbert, fiercely drawing his brand.

“Nay, a tryst have you and I with king Penda by the waters of Aire. Thou wouldst right thine own wrongs at Penda’s cost, but such am not I.”

“Then a coward I brand thee, and a traitor, before these my men,” and so saying he smote Feargus with his sheathed sword.

“Now, thou fool,” said Feargus, “thou shalt have thy wish, for no other choice thou leavest me.”

And then the men fell back and cleared a space, and Osbert rushed upon his antagonist and plied his sword until the sweat poured down from the brows of the both of them, and yet Feargus forbore to strike, for sake of Penda, and when Osbert was aweary he said—

“Now for the king’s sake let us stop this hand-play, or of a surety we will be too late to tryst with him by the waters of Aire, for thou well knowest that the king will not wait if the enemy showeth himself, but, branding us both as traitors to him, will fall to the fighting.”

Osbert made no answer, but, being breathed, rushed again upon his foe, so angry was he to be shamed before Torfrida and so full of jealousy of Feargus. Long time they fought while the day wore on, and then Feargus saw that unless he slew the thane he would himself be slain, and all the men marvelled at his swordsmanship that could keep so renowned and fierce a sword-player off so long, for neither of them had any hurt.

At length Feargus turned upon his foe and they met together with a great shock, and the helm of Osbert fell in sunder two ways and his shield fell another and his sword was bursted at the hilt and he staggered back as a ship starts that hath struck ground. And then Feargus turned aside, not wishing to slay him, though like a dead man he lay for many a month.

CHAPTER VIII
THE DEAD HERO OF THE WINWIDFIELD

After parting with Feargus and Osbert, Penda held on his way with all his thanes, and many English and Welsh and Picts and broken men came in to him as he fared northward. And they marched until they won the valley of the Aire at Woodlesford, where they crossed the water and held on towards the Winwidfield by the side of the little river Winwid, which runneth down till it joins the Wharfe at Towton. In the glen by the water they set their camp; above them stretched the wild Winmoor itself, beyond to the northward lay the great valley of the Wharfe, surrounded by many breezy uplands; southwards towards Woodlesford lay the Roman fortifications of Seacroft and the Roman road which cut in twain the wild moor that stretched to the Aire water. And so they gathered them in the glen by the Winwid burn to keep the winds off them, for it was the month of November, and that the enemy might not see their whereabouts. There they waited for seven days, till at length those who watched from the head of the moor came in, saying that they had seen men moving on the hills to the north-east. The day wore through and the next, and they saw many signs of the approach of the Northumbrian host, but, though they should now have kept their tryst with the king, there was yet no word of Feargus or Osbert. Then king Penda grew impatient, seeing that he might lose the advantage of the ground by waiting. Another day and doubts filled the old king’s mind. Had his captains betrayed him? And his men were discouraged, for much they looked to Feargus and Osbert. That night a great storm burst upon the camp of Penda, and the heavens opened and poured down their waters in torrents and the lightning flashed fiercely across the sky and the thunder rolled down the valley, filling the minds of men with forebodings. And the Northumbrians saw from afar how the lightning played fiercely over their enemies, and took heart and were comforted. On the morrow the watchers came into the king saying that the Northumbrians were approaching up the northern slope of the moor. Then the king said unto himself that he had been betrayed. “And yet,” said he, “little did I think them traitors; for I love the youth Feargus as mine own son, and though I have whiles been against him, yet I believed he loved me, and held him too true to desert me.”

At the hour of noon the Northumbrian host drew near and the king, seeing his old enemies before him, arose and gathered his men. Then the kings and royal princes that were with him, finding him bent on battle, and knowing well that the Northumbrians would not begin the attack, came to Penda saying—

“We would counsel thee, O king, to wait still until Feargus and Osbert shall reach us, for of a certainty they will come: here are we face to face with a host mightier than ours.”

Then the king answered: “And hath not the host of Penda oft-times conquered hosts twice as mighty as itself, led by greatest warriors of the world? Strength lieth not in numbers, nor in big warriors or little, but in the hearts and minds of men. And how think ye it would look for Penda to return back to Mercia without smiting her enemies? Then would Odin say, ‘Our champion is fallen,’ and ye would all and all Northumbria would say, ‘So, the old man is weak—age maketh him faint of heart and weary of war; he is no longer Penda; let us unite and slay him, for victory will be easy.’ Nay, I swear by the gods to break the Northumbrians or be broken by them this day.”

Then the Northumbrian king, seeing the Mercian host moving forward upon them, took counsel of his chiefs, and they sent out a party of horsemen with a flag of truce and many splendid gifts of gold and silver, and Penda called a halt till they won his camp. Then the thane who bore the white flag spoke: “King Oswy, and with him the kings of Lindesey and of the East Anglians and many princes, send greeting to king Penda, and bid me offer to him these gifts if he will withdraw his men to his own land; and they will enter into a bond with him to sheath their war-brands and turn them no more against Penda or his people.”

“Go back,” quoth the king, “and tell your masters that Penda recks not whether their brands be turned against him or not, for hitherto the turning of them hath hurt him little. That Penda doth not want king Oswy for friend; for the kings of the Northumbrians have never yet kept troth with the Mercians, and will be content with nothing less than the ruin of Mercia and the overlordship of all the Midlands. Penda is master of East Anglia, and when her king bendeth his neck and leaveth the camp of Oswy, and Oswy taketh himself back and sendeth his sword to Penda and acknowledgeth him as overlord—until these things are done Penda will take no gifts, neither gold nor silver nor arms nor mercy, and will give nothing but the cold steel. For, mark you, the sword that conquered Oswald and Edwin and Cadwallon and Cynwulf and Cynegils and Sigmund hangs still upon my hip. And tell them, moreover, that as soon as ye have won back to them I will give my men the word to bare their war-brands and no further parleying will brook.”

And so they went back to their king, and Oswy said: “If the pagan will not accept our gifts let us offer them to him that will—the Lord our God.”

Then king Penda gave the order for his men to move forward, but they were much discouraged, lacking the two chiefs, and came not on with the old ardour. And the advanced wing of the Northumbrians stood to meet them, Oswy himself in their midst, and the Mercians recoiled before their doughty strokes. Then Penda ordered the other wings of his host to come on, seeing the battle must be either lost or gained at that moment. Long time they fought, and now one side was borne back and now the other, and then at last, when Penda saw that the Mercian host gained not on their foes, he gathered together his horsemen and with them charged the Northumbrians. Again and again they threw themselves on their foes, but in vain; for the northern host had vantage of ground and fought with all the strength of despair, and they gan bear the Mercians slowly back. And now all the play was with the sword, for in such close grips the two hosts lay in that narrow glen that the bowmen had little room to ply their shafts. In vain Penda urged them on and rode along the lines himself, striking with the strength of youth when any withstood him. Still they gained upon them, until at length the Mercians, thoroughly discouraged by the absence of their chiefs and the numbers of their foes, turned and broke, nor hearkened to the voice of king or thane, but burst back and, casting away their arms, fled in a body southward, down the valley towards the Aire water. And ever the Northumbrians followed, till at length they came to the water by Woodlesford, but the terrible storm of the night had caused a great spate, so that the waters of Aire had overflowed the banks and covered the low-lying land on its border. And when the Mercians came to the head of the brae from which they could see the flood they knew not the stream, and being close together almost in order of battle—so well had the king instilled into them the habits of war—they dashed down the bank, which falleth suddenly towards the river, and plunged neck deep into the water. Now for a moment they are stemming the flood, all that great host, and many more are pressing on behind them, before the swords of their pursuers. Now the Northumbrians on the bank above see them stagger, for little they had reckoned the silent fury of that swirling flood; now they are hurled the one against the other, and wildly turn and try to win back and break and fall, and the water whirls over them. And now heads appear, and arms clasping others, which may be near, and shrieks for help and cries and curses rend the air, and the water is stirred but a little for all and sweeps on. And never a man of that great host won the land. And their foes stood on the banks awe-stricken, forbearing to draw their bows, for it seemed to them as though the God of the Christians who commanded the new order had descended and himself smitten the invincible host of Penda.

And then they hied them back and coming on freshly fell upon the Mercians of Penda’s army. But these were not among the flying; like a rock they stood on a knowe a mile above the Aire water, whence they had retreated in an attempt to rally their comrades. In the midst of them stood the king, a king indeed; tall of stature and erect and of wonderful beauty of countenance; deep and broad of chest, with white beard falling to his waist. On his helm he wore the raven’s wings—the sign of Odin, as the cross was of Christ, for the king was of his kin direct, and for thirty years he had fought Odin’s battle. Behind him waved the banner of the kingdom which he had raised from its utter littleness to be the greatest and strongest of the English, and around him were gathered all the flower of the Mercian host, princes and thanes, and the whole of the Albanich. And Penda had gathered all these men together into a great ring, and the Northumbrians charged them again and again, but ever fell back, broken and beaten, and ever above the throng arose the shout of “Penda! Penda!” “Albanich! Albanich!” and only the best men of Northumbria dare king Oswy send against those cries. Shock after shock broke on them, but still the men of Oswy recoiled, leaving behind horses and riders with broken skulls and bloody faces. And it seemed as though that ring of men, calm and steady and without fear, were to win the field after all. Then Oswy bethought him, seeing that no men in his host could shake the grim company, and he called his archers in and planted them amidst the broom and bushes on either side, and bade them send forth their shafts. And so the ring grew smaller, and as one fell another took his place, then the king turned.

“Now,” said he, “cometh death, and I shall die in the best company that ever I was in, for never men fought better than have ye, English or Welshmen, and ye Albanich, but it little likes me to be caught thus in a trap, a target for unseen foes, our bowmen having fled. Penda liketh to hear the ring of his blows on the helmets of Northumbrians; let this be his death song, therefore. Few though we be, let us charge the host of king Oswy and die dealing death.”

A mighty cheer from the thanes and Picts was the answer to this, and with the cheer they ran, keeping well their ring, with the king amidst of them. And they slew the bowmen, and then, turning, charged towards where king Oswy stood among his thanes by the burn side. The first inclination of the Northumbrians on hearing the war cry of Penda was to flee, so adread were they of him, but Oswy called to them—

“See,” said he, “how the heathen host waneth! Little have ye in your thousands to fear! A handful cometh now against you! The enemy of the Christian and of Northumbria is in the midst of them! Now can he not escape! On, on and at them!”

“Now,” said Penda, “cometh death, and I shall die in the best company that ever I was in.”

And then the great host came against the little and in a moment the Mercians were borne back by the mere weight of the mighty throng in front of them, borne back till they came again to the knowe above the Aire water, but borne back in order and unbroken, compact and fierce, to deal death strokes yet to many a Northumbrian. Then they took their stand firmly on the knowe, and their foes came round on all sides of them, and blows were struck hard and deep by Northumbrians, and the replies came quick and strong from Mercian and Welshman and Pict, each blow dealing death, and all the knowe was bloody; a wall of dead lay around the ring and still the old king fought with the best, but ever that ring grew smaller as the Northumbrian thanes came on afresh when others fell. And ever the brands clashed and rang and the crowd of common soldiers below looked on in awe at the grim and bloody work they wrought; for a fight of giants like to this had never yet been seen. But on the strongest weariness falls at last, and as the gloaming came drearily upon the fields they of Mercia were but a handful, and these stoitered like drunk men and were hardly enough to form a ring, till at length only one stood upright and the king had fallen.

“Feargus! Feargus! thou hast not forsaken us: ill hath befallen thee. Hadst thou been with us the last Northumbrian would long have fled the field. The king is down and thy work is done, Duncan, though would that the hills of Alban were around thee!” and so raising his cry, “Albanich! Albanich!” the last of the Mercian host staggered to the earth.

CHAPTER IX
OF THE FATE OF FEARGUS

When Osbert fell, Feargus told his men to lift him and carry him with them, and they marched on, Feargus at their head. And Torfrida rode by his side, for the day was too far spent for her to reach her father’s camp; but Feargus sent a messenger saying that Torfrida should be delivered up to her brother Edwy at the place of battle. And so they marched on through the night, making all haste. But few words did the lovers speak together, for the heart of Feargus was torn by a horrid dread and great grief, for he saw that he must lose all his worship in the sight of Penda. And soon they drew nigh to the spot where three days since they were to have joined the king, but no sound of battle fell on their ears, though as they came nearer, through the mist of early morning, they espied the place where were the tents of the Northumbrians by the field of battle. And then the Lindeseymen, who lay towards the south nearest the point from which Feargus came, saw his men, and at first they took them to be another army come against them, and arose and stood to their arms. Then Sigmund spoke with king Oswy, telling him of the love that was between Feargus and his daughter, and king Oswy agreed to send young Edwy to bring in Torfrida and to offer fair terms to Feargus and Osbert if they would join the Northumbrian host.

“For,” said Oswy, “two such captains are not in all Britain, and pity it were to fight with them and their host, which numbers but as a third of ours. Tell them that Penda is fallen and that I will give to both the Pict and young Osbert lands and money and men if they will join with me. So, Edwy Sigmundsson, take thou this my message.”

Then Edwy went forth and Feargus rode also to meet him, with Torfrida, for there was great friendship between the three.

“I have sad news for thee, noble Feargus—Penda is down and all his princes, and thine own Duncan and all thy men. To the north of yonder knowe they lie, with the nobler part of the host of Penda, but the more part of that host the waters of Aire have swallowed up. And Oswy bids me say that if thy men will lay down their arms and join him, they being greatly outnumbered, he will give thee lands and gold and men.”

“Go back, gentle Edwy, and tell king Oswy that Feargus, whom cruel fate and, alack! his own folly have thus overthrown, is faithful to Penda, and that Penda’s deathbed shall be his. Gold hath no lustre to him, and his only laying down of arms will be when the last of his host or that of Oswy lies down death-stricken, and Penda is avenged.”

“Nay, I am loth to take such a message. Hath not enough blood flowed, and Torfrida—see how pale she hath grown.”

“Never shall Torfrida wed with one who hath disgraced his name and herded with the foes of his king; my doings call for death. Penda hath died believing me false, and him will I hasten after that he may know me aright.”

“Nay, say not so—and all these thy men?”

Then the young brothers of Osbert who were present stood forth, for they had talked much together, and they said—

“Lo! Edwy Sigmundsson, the Pict may do as he listeth, but we are not of his host nor are these, our brother’s men. We bid thee tell king Oswy that we will join him on troth given.” So Edwy gave them his word, and they and all the host of Osbert went with him. Then did Feargus turn his beast and without further word spoken strike spurs; but Edwy caught his bridle and begged him that he would stay for Torfrida’s sake, and Torfrida wept. And when the two of them looked upon Feargus they knew that he was beside himself; and suddenly then he shook Edwy’s hand from his arm, causing his beast to leap aside, and quickly fled. Edwy saw that Torfrida could ride no further, and he stayed beside her, crying to his thanes—

“Haste, for the prince hath taken leave of his senses. Haste, and by no means let him slay himself, and be ye not adread of him, riding without arms, for such is he that rather would he be taken than strike ye.”

But Feargus was already far ahead of them, and he fled toward the knowe above the Aire water where the battle had swayed and waxed the fiercest. Now he reached the spot where the dead lay thickest—kings and princes and thanes, many of them Christians long since, but held together by the power and the splendour and the faithfulness of Penda. There, heaped up ring within ring they lay, true men to their lord—Angle and Saxon, Pict and Briton, with men from Lindesey and men from Trent and men from the flat country of East Anglia—all dead, with Northumbrians intermingled—dead—dead! And there, within the last ring, lying all alone in a cleared space, as though even the dying had dread of him, and crept apart in their very death agony, to leave him as he had lived, without peer, lay Penda; his white hair of eighty years bedabbled with blood, blood on his breast and beard, blood on his sword, and blood on his broken byrny—dead, the unconquerable death-dealer! Nighest to him lay Duncan, and around were Picts and princes together in the last circle. Then Feargus knelt and drew his father’s sword and laid it upon Duncan’s breast. “For thou, brave Duncan, art more fit to carry my father’s sword with thee among the dead than am I, and I will die with thy soldiers’ brand in my palm.” And then he knelt down by the king and kissed his brow.

“Not long shall it be, O king, ere thou wottest that Feargus, though he hath failed thee, is yet faithful,” and so he took his sword and made to fall thereon, but as he raised his head he saw the thanes of Edwy riding in haste and without arms towards him. Then he sprang to his horse and fled and they close behind him. And now he wins the brae that hides the waters from sight at that point, and now he disappears behind it, and now they reach the hill but little in rear of him, for his beast was aweary. And lo! there was Feargus on the brink of the black water, and now he has plunged into the flood and the creature he rides seeks to win the side and shrieks out for very fear; but Feargus steers him amidstream, and now he pants and staggers. And the prince threw his arms aloft, and waving his brand cried, “Torfrida! Torfrida!”

And the great red beast went down and the rider with him. And so swift ran the flood that half a mile soon lay between the sought and his seekers, and the bend of the river hid the rest. Seeing this the thanes turned back to carry the news to Edwy. And when they reached him they found he was bending over the body of one of the Picts who seemed to be still breathing, for he had great regard for his mother’s kin.

“Where is Feargus?” said Edwy, looking up.

“Alas! he hath thrown himself into the water of Aire and is drowned.”

“Then right heavy am I and sad indeed will the lady Torfrida be, for to me he was ever as a kinsman and to her, alas! such store she set by him as never woman by man before, for surely he was the noblest man and the greatest swordsmith in all the land. And so was his heart set upon Torfrida that he knew not himself how much; and such was his love and his faith to his chief that ’twixt love and grief for tryst unkept he was beside himself.”

And when they told the lady Torfrida she fell down in a swoon and lay sick unto death for many a day, and ever in her sickness called upon her lover nigh to the breaking of the hearts of those that watched.

CHAPTER X
OF THE WOODSMAN OF SHERWOOD

So the waters that drowned the Mercians had Feargus, and in a moment whirled him out of the sight of the thanes of Edwy, and he was carried down the stream till all the breath was out of him, for no stroke to save himself made he. And all that day men from the country around had been gathered on the banks of the river and had garnered a rich harvest in gold and arms from the dead corpses of the Mercians won from the water. And when the body of Feargus floated past, the sun glowed on its golden byrny[6] and they saw that it was kinglier clad than any that had come to their hands, so they set about to win it from the flood, and with branches of trees drew it ashore and there stripped it of its buckler and byrny, and to get the clothing from it they turned it about first on its back and then on its face and there left it. So lying on its face it chanced that the mouth fell open and all the water ran out from it, and there it lay all the night, and the sweet air filled it in place of the water, and by reason of the great strength that was in him the heart of Feargus rallied, and the warrior turned himself on to his back and groaned and murmured. And he lay there for two days and two nights and then rose upon his arm, for the breath of the were wolf wakened him, and he seized the beast rudely by the throat so that it yelled and fled. Then Feargus stood upon his feet, but the past had gone from him, and he knew not to-day from yesterday or to-morrow, each being alike empty, and only the sense of a great evil hung upon him so that his brow was ever knotted. Then he felt weak for hunger and sought out of habit for his sword, but it had gone: they had taken all from him save the plaid which hung in folds around his middle and was then wound round his body. So he drew near to a stout oak sapling which had been thrown ashore by the water, and rent the branches from it, leaving himself a club tough and strong and of such weight that few men could have wielded it. With this he lay among the bushes till a red deer came past, then he leapt to his feet and felled it at a blow. And he kindled a fire and cooked and ate of it and drank of a burn and was refreshed. Next he set about to make himself a mighty bow of willow, strung with sinews of the deer, and he hardened arrows in his fire, setting flints in the points of them and in like manner made himself a spear, but no sword had he. In the forest he stayed for many a month, but never could bide two nights in the one place, for the fever of unrest that was upon him kept him ever awandering. All through the day he sat upon fallen trees or down by the gowans on the wayside with his head sunk upon his breast and the water coursing down his cheeks, yet knew not what it was that made him greet. And in the night he would wander the forest through, or bathe his fevered limbs in dark streams; and when hunger fell on him he followed the chase, and so swift of foot he grew and so strong of his hands that the wild boar, the wolf, and deer found him a dreich blow-dealer. So it chanced that soon there was little in him that was like to the Feargus of the lady Torfrida, richly clad and gay and strong. His red hair hung to his waist and his beard fell down an ell before him and wild and trackless as the wilderness through which he strayed. His plaid was ragged and faded, and his skin of the colour of the ripened grain. Shelter he never knew, but such was his hardihood that he lay out in the wind and rain, through winter and summer alike without scath.

CHAPTER XI
OF OSBERT AND TORFRIDA

From the field of Winwid Osbert was taken by Sigmund to his hall at Lindum, and when the wounds that Feargus had given to him were healed, he made a great friendship with king Sigmund and became his man, for he thought with the king’s aid so to work that he might win Torfrida. The lands of Sigmund marched with those of Osbert, and by compassing the death of the youth Edwy and wedding Torfrida, he could join the two lands and be a great ruler. And Sigmund having so famous a captain to do his bidding, with all his warriors, waxed strong. And finding that his son Edwy set his face against any friendship with Osbert and was, moreover, not of a mind to make war—for war he hated—Sigmund found little pleasure in the boy and gave all his counsel to Osbert. Much Osbert sought the company of Torfrida, and though she would have kept aloof, she knew that her father wished her to wed him and dare not thwart him openly. So he ran daily to do her bidding and many services he rendered, thinking to put her in his debt, but she treated him ill until her father seeing, spoke.

“Thy father wills that thou shouldst marry the prince Osbert who is a great and comely man, and such as the daughter of the proudest king might wed with.”

Then Torfrida said: “Never will I, who have been betrothed to the noblest warrior of all this land, wed such as Osbert, who was ever his enemy and brought ruin upon both him and me.”

Then Sigmund was angry and many bitter words were between them, and Torfrida wept; but the king put her from him and showed his anger in many ways until the life of Torfrida became a burden to her. Then, through the counsel of Osbert, Edwy was sent away across the seas and had no choice but to go; so she had no counsellor, and every hand seemed against her. And Osbert only had soft words and was quick to serve her, and so at length, as the dropping of water weareth a stone, she began to give way, for little she recked what befell her. And she was so full of heaviness that she found relief even in the presence of the enemy of Feargus, for her father willed that no other person should have speech of her. And so when she rode out Osbert rode with her, and though she treated him with scant courtesy he still endured. On a day it chanced that they were riding by the outskirts of the town of Nottingham, where they were then staying, when Torfrida saw a group of youths gathered round some object which they hardly wotted whether to call man or beast, so huge and hairy was it.

“See,” said she, “what have we here—what manner of beast is this? Mercy, it is a man!”

“What else is there that hath shape like to that of man?”

“Nay, but never saw I man like this one. Of a surety, prince, he must be mad—but see, these lads will kill him.”