Chapter 14

THE WITAN’S FEASTING.

Now I have to tell of a strange thing that happened in the night that was just past, the first that the Lady Goldberga had spent here in Lincoln for many a year, for on that happening hangs a great deal, and it will make clear what I myself saw presently at the breaking-up feast of the Witan. That puzzled me mightily at the time, as it did many at the feast, but I see no reason why it should not be told at once.

Now I have said that Goldberga left the hall early overnight, being wearied with the journey, and having the remembrance of the attack on her party so near to Lincoln to trouble her also. Not much cause to love her uncle Alsi had she; though perhaps, also, not much to make her hate him, except that he had kept her so far away from her own people of late, in a sort of honourable captivity. Now it was plain to her that had it not been for the presence of Ragnar and his men, her guard would not have been able to drive off the attackers; and the strange way in which Griffin had held back had been too plain for her not to notice. Already she feared him, and it seemed that he might have plotted her carrying off thus. That Alsi might have had a hand in the matter did not come into her mind, as it did into the minds of others, for she knew little of him, thinking him honest if not very pleasant in his ways, else had not her father made him her guardian.

I will say now that in the attack he did have a hand. Many a long year afterward it all came out in some way. He dared not give his niece to Griffin openly, but he wished to do so, as then he would have an under-king in East Anglia of his own choosing. Sorely against the grain with him was it that he should have to give up those fair lands to this girl, who would hold the throne by her own right, and not at all under him. So he and Griffin had plotted thus, and only Ragnar’s presence had spoilt the plan, though Griffin had tried to save it by holding back. But I must say also that up to this time none had had aught to say against Alsi as a ruler, though he was over close, and not at all hearty in his ways at home. But now, for the sake of the kingdom, he had begun to plot; and this plan having come to naught, he must make others, as will be seen. I do not think that this planning to keep Ethelwald’s kingdom from his daughter was anything fresh to Alsi, but the time for action had come now.

He had made ready by keeping the fair princess far away, and there were none who could speak of her goodness, or, indeed, had heard much of her since she was a child. Therefore, as men were content enough with him, none would trouble much if the princess came not to the throne, given good reason why she should not do so. And the very best reason would be that which Alsi had given at the Witan—if her husband was not fit to be king.

It is possible that Goldberga knew that her marriage would be talked of at this Witan: but I do not think that she troubled herself much about it, not by any means intending to be married against her will. I have heard that so ran the will of Ethelwald, that she was to have choice to some extent. However that may be, with so many thoughts to trouble her she went to rest, and her sleep was not easy until the morning was near, and then came quiet.

But presently, in the grey of the dawn, she woke, and called her old nurse, who was in the chamber with her; and when she came she told her that she had had a strange vision or dream, so real that she did not know which it was. And what it portended she could not say, for it was wonderful altogether, and surely was good.

“I thought that a voice wakened me, calling me to look on somewhat; and so I rose as I was bidden, and saw before me the most mighty and comeliest man that could be thought of. Kinglike he was, though he had no crown and was meanly clad, without brooch or bracelet that a king should wear. But the wonder was that from his mouth came a bright shaft of flame, as it were of a sunbeam, that lighted all the place, and on his shoulder shone a cross of burning light as of red-hot gold, and I knew that it was the mark of a mighty king.

“Then I heard the voice again, and I turned, and saw that it was an angel who spoke to me, and his face was bright and kind.

“‘Fear not, Goldberga,’ he said, ‘for this is your husband that shall be. King’s son and heir is he, as that token of the fiery cross shows. More, also, it will betoken—that he shall reign in England and in Denmark, a great king and mighty. And this you shall see, and with him shall you reign as queen and well-loved lady.’

“So the voice ceased, and the angel was gone, and when I looked up there was naught but the growing dawn across yon window, and the voice of the thrush that sings outside.”

Now the old nurse pondered over the dream for a while without speaking, for she could not see what it might mean at first.

But at last she said, “It is a good dream surely, because of the angel that spoke; but there seems only one way in which it can come to pass. A prince must come for you from Denmark, for there he would reign by his own right, and here he would do so by yours. Yet I have heard that the Danish kings are most terrible heathen, worse than the Saxon kin, of whom we know the worst now. Maybe that is why the angel told you to have no fear. I mind Gunnar Kirkeban, and what he wrought on the churches and Christian folk in Wales—in Gower on the Severn Sea, and on the holy Dee—when I was young.”

For both Goldberga and this old nurse of hers were Christian, as had been Orwenna, Ethelwald’s wife, her mother. It had been a great day for them when the King of Kent had brought over his fair wife, Bertha, from France, for she, too, was Christian, and had restored the ancient church in the very castle where Goldberga was kept.

Now the princess went to sleep again, and woke refreshed; but all day long the memory of the dream and of him whom she saw in it bided with her, until it was time for her to go to the great hall for the feast of the Witan.

Now it happened that on this night I must be one of the two housecarls who should stand, torch in hand, behind the king. It was a place that none of the men cared for much, since they saw their comrades feasting at the end of the room, while they must bide hungry till the end, and mind that no sparks from the flaring pine fell on the guests, moreover. Eglaf would have excused me this had I wished; but I would take my turn with the rest, and maybe did not mind losing the best of the feast so much as the others. There were some three hundred guests at that feast, and it was a wondrous fair sight to me as I stood on the high place and saw them gather. The long table behind which I was ran right across the dais, rich with gold and silver and glass work: and below this, all down the hall, ran long tables again, set lengthwise, that none might have their backs to the king. And at the end of the hall, crosswise, were the tables for the housecarls, and the men of the house, and of the thanes who were guests. And as the housecarls came in they hung their shields and weapons on the walls in order, so that they flashed bright from above the hangings that Berthun and his men had set up afresh and more gaily than I had seen yet in this place.

There was a fire on the great hearth in the midst of the hall; but as it was high summer, only a little one, and over it were no cauldrons, as there would have been in the winter. Berthun was doing his cookery elsewhere. But between the tables were spaces where his thralls and the women could pass as they bore round the food and drink. And backwards and forwards among them went Berthun until the very last, anxious and important, seeing that all was right, and showing one guest after another to their places. No light matter was that either, for to set a thane in too low a place for his rank was likely to be a cause of strife and complaint. Also he must know if there were old feuds still remembered, lest he should set deadly enemies side by side. I did not envy him, by any means.

When it seemed that there were few more guests to come, and only half a dozen seats were vacant on the high place, Berthun passed into the room beyond the hall, and at once a hush fell on the noisy folk, who had been talking to one another as though they had never met before. The gleemen tuned their harps, and I and my comrade lit our torches from those already burning on the wall, and stood ready, for the king was coming.

Out of the door backed Berthun with many bows, and loud sang the gleemen, while all in the hall stood up at once; and then came Alsi, leading the princess, first; and then Ragnar, with the wife of some great noble; and after him that noble and another lady; but Griffin was not there. Bright looked Goldberga in her blue dress, with wondrous jewels on arm and neck, and maybe the brighter for the absence of the Welsh thane, as I thought.

So they sat as last night, save that the noble who had come next to Ragnar was in Griffin’s place; and therefore I stood behind the king and the princess, with the light of my torch falling between the two.

Now they were set, and at once Berthun bore a great beaker of wine to the king, and all down the hall ran his men with the pitchers of wine and mead and ale, and with them the women of the household and the wives of the courtmen, filling every drinking horn for the welcome cup.

Then the gleemen hushed their song, and Alsi stood up with the gold-rimmed horn of the king in his hand, and high he raised it, and cried, “Waeshael!”

And all the guests rose up, cup in hand, with a wonderful flashing of the glorious English jewels, and cried with one voice, “Drinc hael, Cyning!”

Then all sat them down, and at once came Berthun’s men with the laden spits and the cauldrons, and first they served the high table, kneeling on the dais steps while each noble helped himself and the lady next him with what he would. And then down the hall the feast began, and for a time befell a silence—the silence of hungry folk who have before them a good reason for not saying much for a little while.

I looked for Havelok among Berthun’s men, but he was not there. Nor was he at the lower cross tables with the other people of the palace. But Withelm was there, for Eglaf had seen him with me not an hour ago, and had bidden him come, as a stranger from far off. There were a few other strangers there also, as one might suppose, for the king’s hall must be open at these times.

Now I looked on all this, and it pleased me; and then I began to hear the talk of those at the high table, and that was pleasant also. First I heard that Griffin had fallen off his horse, and had put his arm out. Whereon one said that he only needed one hand to feed with, and marvelled that so small a hurt kept him away from so pleasant a place as was his.

“It seems that he fell on his face,” answered a thane who had seen him. “He is not as handsome as he was last night. That is what keeps him away. Some passerby put his arm in straightway.”

At that I almost laughed, but kept a face wooden as that of our old statue of Thor, for Eglaf had warned me that I was but a torch, as it were, unless by any chance I was spoken to. But Ragnar glanced my way with a half smile. Presently they began to talk of the stone putting, and of the mighty man who had come with Berthun, and I saw several looking idly down the hall to see if they could spy him. One of the thanes on the high seat, at the end, was he who had held the prizes at these sports.

Now it seemed that Alsi had not heard of this before; and when he had been told all about it, he said that he did not know that he had any man who was strong enough to make such a cast as they spoke of, though Eglaf had picked up a big man somewhere lately, whom he had noticed at the hall end once or twice.

Then he ran his eyes over the tables, for now the women folk had sat down among the men, and one could see everywhere. But he did not see the man he meant, and so turned sharply on us two housecarls behind him.

“Here he is,” he said, laughing and looking at me. “Were you the mighty stone putter they make such a talk of?”

“I am not, lord,” I said, somewhat out of countenance, because every one looked at me together. It had never seemed to me that I was so big before; perhaps because I was used to Havelok, and to Raven, who was nigh as tall as myself, and maybe a bit broader.

“Why, then, who was he?” said the king. “We must ask Berthun, unless anyone can see him in the hall.”

Then the thane of the prizes said, “He is not here, lord; for little trouble would there be in seeing him, if he were, seeing that he is a full head and shoulders over even this housecarl of yours.”

Now the princess had turned to look at me, and she saw that I was abashed, and so she smiled at me pleasantly, as much as to say that she was a little sorry for me, and turned away. Then thought I that if ever the princess needed one to fight for her, even to death, I would do so for the sake of that smile and the thought for a rough housecarl that was behind it.

Now came Berthun with more wine, before the matter of the stone was forgotten in other talk, and the king said, “It seems that you have found a new man, steward, for all are talking of him. I mean the man who is said to have thrown a big stone certain miles, or somewhat like it, from all accounts. Where is he?”

“He is my new porter,” answered Berthun, with much pride; “but he is not in the hail, for he does not like to hear much of himself, being quiet in his ways, although so strong.”

“Here is a marvel,” laughed Alsi, “and by-and-by we must see him. I wonder that Eglaf let you have him.”

Now Eglaf sat at the head of the nearest of the lower tables, and all in hearing of the king were of course listening by this time. So he said, “The man had his choice, and chose the heavier place, if you will believe me, lord. It is terrible to see how Berthun loads him at times; so that I may get him yet.”

Then all laughed at the steward, whose face grew red; but he had to laugh also, because the jest pleased the king. He went away quickly; and one told Eglaf that he had better eat no more, else would he run risk of somewhat deadly at the cook’s hands. But those two were old friends, as has been seen, and they were ever seeking jests at each other’s expense.

Now the talk drifted away to other things, and I hoped that Havelok had been forgotten, for no more than I would he like being stared at. The feast went on, and twice I had to take new torches, but Berthun saw that I had wine, if I could not eat as yet. Then had men finished eating, and the tables were cleared, and the singing began, very pleasant to hearken. Not only the gleemen sang, but the harp went round, and all who could did so. Well do the Lindsey folk sing, after their own manner, three men at a time, in a gladsome way, with well-matched voices, and that for just long enough to be pleasant.

So the harp went its way down the hall, and the great folk fell to talk again; and at last one said, so that Alsi heard him, “Why, we have not seen the strong man yet. Strange that he is not feasting with the rest.”

Whereat the king beckoned Berthun.

“Bring your new wonder here,” he said. “Say that I have heard of his deed, and would look on him.”

Berthun bowed and went his way; and I wondered how my brother would bear this, for the hall and its ordering was wont, as I have said, to bring back his troubled thoughts of things half remembered.

Presently he came in at the door at the lower end of the hall, and at first none noticed him, for there was singing going on, and through that door came and went many with things for the feast from the kitchens. Then some one turned to see who towered over them thus, and when he saw Havelok he went on looking, so that others looked also. Then one of the three singers looked, and his voice stayed, for he was a stranger, and had heard nothing of this newcomer, and then Havelok followed Berthun up the hall in a kind of hush that fell, and he was smiling a little, as if it amused him. He had on the things that the steward had given him, and they were good enough—as good as, if more sober than, my housecarl finery. But I suppose that not one in all the gathering looked at what he wore; for as he passed up the long tables, it seemed that there was no man worth looking at but he, and even Ragnar seemed to be but a common man when one turned to him with eyes that had seen Havelok.

Now Alsi the king sat staring at him, still as a carven image, with his hand halfway to his mouth, as he raised his horn from the table; and Ragnar looked wide-eyed, for he knew him again, and I saw a little smile curl the corners of his lips and pass; and then Havelok was at the step of the high place, and there he gave the salute of the courtmen of a Danish king, heeding Berthun, who tried to make him do reverence, not at all.

Now a spark from my torch drew my eyes from him, lest it should fall on the princess’s robe; and when it went out, I saw that the fair hand that rested on the arm of the great chair was shaking like a leaf. When I looked, her face was white and troubled, and she half rose from her seat and then sank back in it gently, and the thane who sat next her spoke anxiously to her in a low voice, and the lady by his side rose up and came to her.

Then Alsi turned, and he too spoke, asking if aught was amiss.

“The princess faints with the heat of the hall,” said the thane’s wife. “She yet feels the long journey. May she not go hence?”

Then Goldberga said bravely, “It is naught, and it will pass.”

But they made her rise and leave the hall; and the guests stood up as she went with her ladies round her, and many were the murmurs of pity that I heard.

“As though she had seen a ghost, so white is she,” one whispered.

But none knew how much the lady was to be pitied. She had seen the man of her vision; and, lo! for all that she knew, he was a thrall who toiled in the palace kitchens.

And after her, as she withdrew, looked Havelok with eyes in which there was more than pity. I could see him well, but I did not know how he had seen the fair princess tremble and grow white as she gazed on him. I know that, as he saw her for this first time, it was with the wish that he were in Ragnar’s place. But I thought that if Havelok were king, here was the queen for him.

Now Alsi bade the feast go on, and be spoke a few words only to Havelok, letting him go at once, and I was glad. This sudden faintness of the princess had put all out somewhat, and none cared to take up a jest where it had stayed. Nevertheless, I saw the king’s eyes follow my brother down the hall, and in them was a new and strange look that was not pleasant at all.

Then it seemed that one was staring at me, and as will happen, I must look in a certain place; and there was Cadwal, the Welsh thane, halfway down one of the long tables, glaring first at me, and then at Havelok, as he went. It came into my mind that he would be wroth with Ragnar for bringing a kitchen knave as his second, as it were, in derision of Griffin. I thought that I would find a chance presently to tell him why my fellow second chose to be serving thus, and so make things right with him, for this seemed to be due to Ragnar, if not to all concerned.

Not long after Goldberga had gone, the king withdrew also, and then the hall grew noisy enough, and I could leave my place. But by that time Cadwal had left also; and next day, when I sought him, both he and Griffin were no longer in Lincoln, none knowing whither they had gone. So I troubled no more about them.

But had I known that these two had been among the Welshmen that Hodulf led to Denmark when he slew Gunnar Kirkeban, and therefore knew all the story of the loss of Havelok, and how Hodulf had sought for news of him, I should have been in fear enough that we had not yet done with them. Rightly, too, should I have feared that, as will be seen.

Now while I looked about the hall for Cadwal, Mord the chamberlain saw me, and made me sit down by him while I ate. Hungry enough was I by that time, as may be supposed, for one cannot make a meal off the sight of a feast; and as I ate, the noise of the hall grew apace as the cups went round. Then some of the older thanes left, and soon Mord and I had that table to ourselves. It was plain that he was full of something that he would say to me, and when I was ready to listen he bent near me and said, “So that was the boy who fled with us.”

“Ay. He has grown since you saw him last.”

“That is not all,” answered Mord. “Well I knew Gunnar, our king, and tonight I thought he had come back to us from Valhalla, goodlier yet and mightier than ever, as one who has feasted with the Asir might well be. For if this boy of ours is not Gunnar’s son, then he is Gunnar himself.”

Now that was no new thought to me, as I have shown, and I was ready for it, seeing that even I had seen the likeness to the king as I remembered him.

“Keep that thought to yourself for a while, Mord,” I said. “It is in my mind that you are right, but the time has not yet come for me to know.”

“That is wisdom, too,” he answered; “for if once he gathers a following, there is a bad time in store for Hodulf. And it will be better that we fall on him unawares, before he knows that Havelok, son of Gunnar, lives.”

“We fall on him?”

“Ay, you and I, mail on chest and weapon in hand, with Havelok to lead us. What? think you that I would hold back when Gunnar’s son is calling?”

“Steady, friend,” I said, laughing; “men will be looking at us.”

So he was silent again; and now I thought that the time of which my father spoke had surely come, for it was plain that Havelok was a man whom men would gladly follow as he went to win back his kingdom. And I went and fetched Withelm from where he sat, and so we three talked long and pleasantly, until it was time for us to go forth from the hall. And we thought that it was good for Arngeir to come here, for the secret was coming to light of itself, as it were, and we would have him speak with Mord.