Chapter 10

CURAN THE PORTER.

There is no need for me to say how my arms came to me from Grimsby, and how I went to Eglaf as I had promised. I will only say that the life was pleasant enough, if idle, as a housecarl, and that I saw Havelok every day at one time or another, which was all that I could wish.

But as I had to wait a day or two while the messenger went and the arms came from home, I saw Havelok meet the steward on the next day: and a quaint meeting enough it was, for Berthun hardly knew how he should behave to this man, whom he had made up his mind was a wandering prince.

There was the crowd who waited for the call for porters, as ever; hut the steward would have none of them, until he saw his new man towering over the rest, and then he half made a motion to unbonnet, which he checked and turned into a beckoning wave of the hand, whereon the idlers made their rush for him, and Havelok walked through and over them, more or less, as they would not make way for him. But so good-naturedly was this done, that even those whom he lifted from his path and dropped on one side laughed when they saw who had cleared a way for himself, and stood gaping to see what came next.

“Ho—why, yes—Curan—that was the name certainly. I have been looking for you, as we said,” stammered the steward.

“Here am I, therefore,” answered Havelok, “and where is the load?”

“Truth to tell, I have bought but this at present,” said the steward, pointing to a small basket of green stuff on the stall at which he stood.

“Well, I suppose there is more to come,” Havelok said, taking it up; “it will be a beginning.”

“I will not ask you to carry more than that,” Berthun began.

“Why, man, this is foolishness. If you have a porter, make him carry all he can, else he will not earn his keep.”

“As you will,” answered the steward, shrugging his shoulders as one who cannot account for some folk’s whims, and going on to the next booth.

Now, I suppose that the idlers looked to see Havelok walk away with this light load gladly, as any one of them would have done, and that then their turn would have come; but this was not what they expected. Maybe they would have liked to see the strong man sweep up all the palace marketing and carry it, as a show, but it might interfere with their own gains. So there was a murmur or two among them, and this grew when Havelok took the next burden in like manner.

“Ho, master cook,” cried a ragged man at last, “this is not the custom, and it is not fair that one man should do all the work, and all for one wage.”

Berthun took no notice of this; and so the cry was repeated, and that by more than one. And at last he turned round and answered.

“Go to, ye knaves,” he said with a red face and angrily; “if I find a man who will save me the trouble of your wrangles every day, shall I not do as I please?”

Then there was a tumult of voices, and some of them seemed sad, as if a last hope was gone, and that Havelok heard.

“There is somewhat in this,” he said to the cook. “What pay have you given to each man who carries for you?”

“A yesterday’s loaf each,” answered Berthun, wondering plainly that Havelok paid any heed to the noise.

“Well, then, let us go on, and we will think of somewhat,” Havelok said; and then he turned to the people, who were silent at once.

“I am a newcomer, and a hungry one,” he said, smiling quietly, “and I have a mind to earn my loaf well. Hinder me not for today, and hereafter I will take my chance with the rest, if need is.”

Thereat the folk began to laugh also, for it was plain that none had any chance at all if he chose to put forth his strength; but an old man said loudly, “Let the good youth alone now, and he shall talk with us when he has done his errand and fed that great bulk of his. He has an honest face, and will be fair to all.”

That seemed to please the crowd; and after that they said no more, but followed and watched the gathering up of Havelok’s mighty burden. And presently there was more than he could manage; and he spoke to Berthun, who checked himself in a half bow as he answered.

Then Havelok looked over the faces before him, and beckoned to two men who seemed weakly and could not press forward, and to them he gave the lighter wares, and so left the market with his master, as one must call the steward.

“What told I you?” said the old man, as they came back from the great gate. “Never saw I one with a face like that who harmed any man, either in word or deed.”

Now when Havelok had set down his load in the kitchen, he straightened himself and said to Berthun, who was, as one may say, waiting his pleasure.

“This is today’s task; but it is in my mind that I would stay up here and work.”

“What would you do?”

“There are men yonder who will miss the carrying if I am market porter always. But here are things I can earn my keep at, and help the other servants with at the same time. Water drawing there is, and carrying of logs for the fire, and cleaving them also, and many other things that will be but hardening my muscles, while they are over heavy to be pleasant for other folk.”

“Well,” answered Berthun, “that is all I could wish, and welcome to some here will you be. Let it be so.”

“Now, I do not think that you would make a gain by my work this morning?”

“Truly not, if any one is wronged by my doing so,” the puzzled steward said.

Then Havelok asked how many men would have been needed to carry up the goods that he had brought, and Berthun said that he was wont to send one at least from each stall, and more if the burden was heavy.

“Then today four poor knaves must go dinnerless by reason of my strength, and that does not please me altogether,” said Havelok gravely. “Give these two their loaves; and then, I pray you, give me the other four, and let me go back to the market.”

And then he added, with a smile, “I think that I can order matters there so that things will be more fair, and that you will have less trouble with that unmannerly scramble.”

“If you can do that, you are even as your name calls you. Take them and welcome, Curan, and then come here and do what work you will,” Berthun said in haste.

“Tasks you must set me, or I shall grow idle. That is the failing of over-big men,” Havelok said; and he took the loaves and left the palace with the two market men at his heels.

I saw him come back, and at once the crowd of idlers made for him, but in a respectful way enough. I knew, however, how easily these folks took to throwing mud and stones in their own quarrels, and I was a little anxious, for to interfere with the ways of the market is a high offence among them.

But Havelok knew naught of that, and went his way with his loaves to the bridge end, and there sat on the rail and looked at the men before him. And _lo!_ back to my mind came old days in Denmark, and how I once saw Gunnar the king sitting in open court to do justice, and then I knew for certain that I was looking on his son. And when Havelok spoke it was in the voice of Gunnar that I had long forgotten, but which came back to me clear and plain, as if it were yesterday that I had heard it. Never does a boy forget his first sight of the king.

“Friends,” said Havelok, “if I do two men’s work I get two men’s pay, or else I might want to know the reason why. But I am only one man, all the same, and it seems right to me that none should be the loser. Wherefore I have a mind to share my pay fairly.”

There was a sort of shout at that and Havelok set his four loaves in a row on the rail beside him. But then some of the rougher men went to make a rush at them, and he took the foremost two and shook them, so that others laughed and bade the rest beware.

“So that is just where the trouble comes in,” said Havelok coolly; “the strong get the first chance, as I did this morning, by reason of there being none to see fair play.”

“Bide in the market, master, and we will make you judge among us,” cried a small man from the edge of the crowd.

“Fair and softly,” Havelok answered. “I am not going to bide here longer than I can help. Come hither, grandfer,” and he beckoned to the old man who had bidden them wait his return, “tell me the names of the men who have been longest without any work.”

The old man pointed out three, and then Havelok stopped him.

“One of these loaves is my own wage,” he said; “but you three shall have the others, and that will be the easiest day’s work you ever did. But think not that I am going to do the like every day, for Lincoln hill is no easy climb, and the loaf is well earned at the top. Moreover, it is not good to encourage the idle by working for them.”

So the three men had their loaves, and Havelok began to eat his own slowly, swinging his legs on the bridge rail while the men watched him.

“Master,” said the small man from behind, pushing forward a little, now that the crowd was looser, “make a law for the market, I pray you, that all may have a chance.”

“Who am I to make laws?” said my brother slowly, and, as he said this, his hand went up to his brows as it had gone last night when the palace had wearied him.

“The strong make laws for the weak,” the old man said to him in a low voice. “If the strong is honest, for the weak it is well. Things are hard for the weak here; and therefore say somewhat, for it may be of use.”

“It can be none, unless the strong is at hand to see that the law is kept.”

“Sometimes the market will see that a rule is not broken, for itself. There is no rule for this matter.”

Again Havelok passed his hand over his eyes, and he was long in answering. The loaf lay at his side now. Presently he looked straight before him, and, as if he saw far beyond Lincoln Hill and away to the north, he said, “This is my will, therefore, that from this time forward it shall be the law that men shall have one among them who may fairly and without favour so order this matter that all shall come to Berthun the steward in turns that shall be kept, and so also with the carrying for any other man. There shall be a company of porters, therefore, which a man must join before he shall do this work, save that every stranger who comes shall be suffered to take a burden once, and then shall be told of this company, and the custom that is to be. And I will that this old man shall see to this matter.”

And then he stopped suddenly, and seemed to start as a great shout went up from the men, a shout as of praise; and his eyes looked again on them, and that wonderingly.

“They will keep this law,” said the old man. “Well have you spoken.”

“I have said a lot of foolishness, maybe,” answered Havelok. “For the life of me I could not say it again.”

“There is not one of us that could not do so,” said his adviser. “But bide you here, master, in the town?”

“I am in service at the palace.”

Then the old man turned round to the others and said, “This is good that we have heard, and it is nothing fresh, for all trades have their companies, and why should not we? Is this stranger’s word to be kept?”

Maybe there were one or two of the rougher men who held their peace, for they had had more than their share of work, but from the rest came a shout of “Ay!” as it were at the Witan.

“Well, then,” said Havelok suddenly, getting down from his seat and giving his loaf to the old man, “see you to it; and if any give trouble hereafter, I shall hear from the cook, and, by Odin, I will even come down and knock their heads together for them. So farewell.”

He smiled round pleasantly, yet in that way which has a meaning at the back of it; and at that every cap went off and the men did him reverence as to a thane at least, and he nodded to them and came across to me.

“Come out into the fields, brother, for I shall weep if I bide here longer.”

So he said; and we went away quickly, while the men gathered round the old leader who was to be, and talked earnestly.

“This famine plays strange tricks with me,” he said when we were away from every one. “Did you hear all that I said?”

“I heard all, and you have spoken the best thing that could have been said. Eight years have I been to this market, and a porters’ guild is just what is needed. And it will come about now.”

“It was more dreaming, and so I must be a wise man in my dream. Even as in the palace yesterday it came on me, and I seemed to be at the gate of a great hall, and it was someone else that was speaking, and yet myself. It is in my mind that I told these knaves what my lordly will was, forsooth; and the words came to me in our old Danish tongue, so that it was hard not to use it. But it seems to me that long ago I did these things, or saw them, I know not which, somewhere. Tell me, did the king live in our town across the sea?”

“No, but in another some way off. My father took me there once or twice.”

“Can you mind that he took me also?”

I shook my head, and longed for Withelm. Surely I would send for him, or for Arngeir, if this went on. Arngeir for choice, for I could tell him what I thought; and that would only puzzle Withelm, who knew less than I.

“We will ask Arngeir some day,” I said; “he can remember.”

“I suppose he did take me,” mused Havelok; “and I suppose that I want more sleep or more food or somewhat. Now we will go and tell the old dame of my luck, for she has lost her lodger.”

Then he told me of his fortune with the steward.

“Half afraid of me he seems, for he will have me do just what I will. That will be no hard place therefore.”

But I thought that if I knew anything of Havelok my brother, he would be likely to make it hard by doing every one’s work for him, and that Berthun saw this; or else that, as I had thought last night, the shrewd courtier saw the prince behind the fisher’s garb.

So we parted presently at the gate of the palace wall, and I went back to the widow to wait for my arms, while he went to his master. And I may as well tell the end of Havelok’s lawmaking.

Berthun went down to the market next day, and came back with a wonder to be told. And it was to Havelok that he went first to tell it, as he was drawing bucket after bucket of water from the deep old Roman well in the courtyard to fill the great tub which he considered a fair load to carry at once.

“There is something strange happening in the market,” he said, “and I think that you have a hand in it. The decency of the place is wonderful, and you said that you thought I might have less trouble with the men than I was wont if you went down with the loaves. What did you? For I went to the baker’s stalls and bought, and looked round for the tail that is after me always; and I was alone, and all the market folk were agape to see what was to be done. I thought that I had offended the market by yesterday’s business, as they had called out on me, and I thought that I should have to come and fetch your—that is, if it pleased you. But first I called, as is my wont, for porters. Now all that rabble sat in a row along a wall, and, by Baldur, when I looked, they had cleaned themselves! Whereupon an old gaffer, who has carried things once or twice for me when there has been no crowd and he has been able to come forward, lifted up his voice and asked how many men I wanted, so please me.

“‘Two,’I said, wondering, and at that two got up and came to me, and I sent them off. It was the same at the next booth, and the next, for he told off men as I wanted them; and here am I back a full half-hour earlier than ever before, and no mud splashes from the crowd either. It is said that they have made a porters’ guild; and who has put that sense into their heads unless your—that is, unless you have done so, I cannot say.”

Havelok laughed.

“Well, I did tell them that they should take turns, or somewhat like that; and I also told them that if you complained of them I would see to it.”

“Did you say that you would pay them, may I ask—that is, of course, if they were orderly? For if so, I thank—”

“I told them that if you complained I would knock their heads together,” said Havelok.

And that was the beginning of the Lincoln porters’ guild; and in after days Havelok was wont to say that he would that all lawmaking was as easy as that first trial of his. Certainly from that day forward there was no man in all the market who would not have done aught for my brother, and many a dispute was he called on to settle. It is not always that a law, however good it may be, finds not a single one to set himself against it. But then Havelok was a strong man.

Now there is naught to tell of either Havelok or myself for a little while, for we went on in our new places comfortably enough. One heard much of Havelok, though, for word of him and his strength and goodliness, and of his kindness moreover, went through the town, with tales of what he had done. But I never heard that any dared to ask him to make a show of himself by doing feats of strength. Only when he came down to the guardroom sometimes with me would he take part in the weapon play that he loved, and the housecarls, who were all tried and good warriors, said that he was their master in the use of every weapon, and it puzzled them to know where he had learned so well, for he yet wore his fisher’s garb. They sent his arms with mine from Grimsby, thinking that he also needed them; but he left them with the widow.

Havelok used to laugh if they asked him this, and tell them that it came by nature, and in that saying there was more than a little truth. So the housecarls, when they heard how Berthun was wont to treat him, thought also that he was some great man in hiding, and that the steward knew who he was. They did not know but that my close friendship with him had sprung up since he came, and that was well, and Eglaf and he and I were soon much together. The captain wanted him to leave the cook and be one of his men, but we thought that he had better bide where he was, rather than let Alsi the king have him always about him. For now and then that strange feeling, as of the old days, came over him when he was in the great hall, and he had to go away and brood over it for a while until he would set himself some mighty task and forget it.

But one day he came to me and said that he was sure he knew the ways of a king too well for it all to be a dream, adding that Berthun saw that also, and was curious about him.

“Tell me, brother, whence came I? _Was_ I truly brought up in a court?”

“I have never heard,” I answered. “All that I know for certain is that you fled with us from Hodulf, the new king, and that for reasons which my father never told me.”

Then said Havelok, “There was naught worth telling, therefore. I suppose I was the child of some steward like Berthun; but yet—”

So he went away, and I wondered long if it were not time that Arngeir should tell all that he knew. It was of no good for me to say that in voice and ways and deed he had brought back to me the Gunnar whom I had not seen for so many long years, for that was as likely as not to be a fancy of mine, or if not a fancy, he might be only a sister’s son or the like. But in all that he said there was no word of his mother, and by that I knew that his remembrance must be but a shadow, if a growing one.

But there was no head in all the wide street that was not turned to look after him; and now he went his way from me with two children, whom he had caught up from somewhere, perched on either shoulder, and another in his arms, and they crowed with delight as he made believe to be some giant who was to eat them forthwith, and ran up the hill with them. No such playmate had the Lincoln children before Havelok came.