Chapter 15

THE CRAFT OF ALSI THE KING.

Now Alsi the king went from the feast with a new and cruel thought in his mind under the smiling face that he wore, and long he sat in his own chamber, chin on hand and eyes far off, thinking; and at last he called Berthun.

“What is the name of this big knave of yours?” he asked, when the steward stood before him.

“He calls himself Curan, lord.”

“Calls himself. Well, it is likely that he knows his own name best. Is he Welsh, therefore?”

“So I think, lord.”

“You might have been certain by this time, surely. I like Welshmen about the place, and I was giving you credit for finding me a good one. Whence comes he?”

Now it was on Berthun’s tongue to say that he thought that Curan came from the marshland, yet clinging to his own thoughts of what he was. He did not at all believe that he came from that refuge of thralls. But he must seem certain unless he was to be laughed at again.

So he said, “He comes from the marsh-country.”

“Does he speak Welsh?”

“I have heard him do so to the market people, if he happened to meet a Briton there.”

“Why, then, of course he is Welsh: and here have I found out in two minutes what you have taken I do not know how long to think about. Go to, Berthun; you grow slow of mind with good living.”

The king chuckled, and Berthun bowed humbly; but now the steward was determined to say no more than he was obliged in answer to more questions. Also he began to hope that Alsi would ask nothing about the clothes this man of his wore, else he would be well laughed at for spending his money on a stranger.

But Alsi seemed pleased with himself, or else with what he had heard, and went on.

“Has this Curan friends in the town?”

“None, lord, so far as I know.”

“Let me tell you that you may know a man’s friends by the company he keeps. With whom does he talk?”

“None come to seek him, lord, except one of the housecarls—the big man to whom you spoke tonight. Seldom does he go into the town, and then only the porters seem to know him, for he was among them, as a stranger, when I met him first.”

“A big man will always make an acquaintance with another,” Alsi said, “and the porters are the lowest in the place. One may be sure that he has left his friends in some starving village in the marsh, and has none here. That will do, Berthun. Take care of him, for I may have use for him. But next time you hire a man, use your wits to learn somewhat of him, if it is too much trouble to ask.”

So Berthun was dismissed, and went out in a bad temper with himself. Yet he knew that he would have been laughed at for a fool if he had said that he thought Curan more than he seemed.

Now Alsi was alone, and he fell to thought again. By-and-by it was plain to be understood what his thoughts had been, and they were bad. And after he had slept on them they were no better, seeing what came of them. But I think that he was pleased to find that Havelok was, as he thought, a Welsh marshman, and well-nigh friendless, for so he would be the more ready to do what he was bidden; though, indeed, there seemed little doubt that the plan Alsi made for himself would find no stumbling block in Curan, if it might meet with a check elsewhere. That, however, was to be seen.

Well pleased was Alsi the king with somewhat, men said in the morning.

But there was one who rose heavy and sorely troubled, and that was the Lady Goldberga, for all the fancies that had been brought to her by the vision had come to nothing, or worse than nothing, as she looked on Havelok and saw in the cook’s knave the very form of him of whom she had dreamed, and whom she could not forget. Glad had she been to go to her own chamber and away from the kindly ladies who could not know her real trouble; but not even to her old nurse did she tell what that was. Her one thought now was to seek someone who was skilful in the reading of dreams, and so find some new hope from it all. But no one could tell her of such a one here, unless it were to be a priest of Woden, and that she would not hear of.

Then, early in the morning, Alsi sent for her, saying that he would speak with her alone for a while. So she went to him, where he sat in the chamber beyond the high place; and he greeted her kindly, asking after her rest, and saying that he hoped that the sudden faintness had hurt her not. Then he led her to a seat, and bade her rest while he talked of state affairs.

“For it must be known to you, my niece, that the Witan thinks it time that you should take your father’s kingdom.”

Now Goldberga knew that, and had long made up her mind that when the time came she would not shrink from the burden of the crown.

It may well have been that Alsi thought that she would wish to wait for a time yet, for he did not seem altogether pleased when she answered, “If the Witan thinks right, I am ready.”

“But,” he said, “there is one thing to come before that. The Witan must know who your husband shall be. And that is reasonable, for he will have a share in ruling the kingdom.”

Then said Goldberga, “They need have no fear in that matter, for I will wed none but a king or the heir of a king.”

“Well,” said Alsi, dryly enough, “they are not so plentiful as are blackberries, and there may be two words to that.”

“I am not anxious to be wedded,” answered the princess, “and I can wait. It is, as you say, a matter that is much to the country.”

Then Alsi tried another plan, seeing that Goldberga was not at all put out by this. So he forced a cunning smile that was meant to be pleasant, and said, “I had thought that your mind ran somewhat on Ragnar.”

He looked to see the lady change colour, but she did not.

“Ragnar is my cousin,” she said, “or a good brother to me, if you will. Moreover, until the other day when he met me in London by some good fortune, I had hardly seen him since my father died.”

“What think you of Griffin?”

“Nothing at all, for nidring he is,” answered Goldberga with curling lip.

Now that angered Alsi, for he had so much to do with that business; and if Griffin was to be called thus by his fault, he was likely to lose a friend.

“I would have you remember,” he said, “that in all this choosing it remains for me to give consent or withhold it.”

“I shall only ask your consent to my wedding such a man as I have told you of, uncle—a king or a king’s son.”

“So,” said Alsi, “you would choose first, and ask me afterwards, forsooth! That is not the way that things are to be between us. It is for me to choose, and that according to the oath which I took when your father made me guardian of you and his realm.”

“Yet,” said Goldberga very gently, “I think that my father would not have meant that I should be the only one not to be asked.”

“I can only go by what I swore, and that I will carry out. I promised to see you married to the most goodly and mightiest man in the land.”

“That can be none but a king, as I think.”

Now Alsi grew impatient, for he meant to settle one matter before he went much farther.

“I will say at once that I can have no king over the East Anglian kingdom. It is not to be thought of that after all these years I should have to take second place there. You will hold the kingdom from me, and I shall be overlord there. I will send you some atheling who can keep the land in order for you, but there shall be no king to bring that land under the power of his own kingdom.”

That was plain speaking, and it roused Goldberga.

“Never have you been overlord of my kingdom,” she said. “Well have you ruled it for me while I could not rule it myself, and for that I thank you heartily. But it is not right that I should seem to hold it from you.”

“That is to be seen,” sneered Alsi, “for it lies with me to say what marriage you make, and on that depends whether the Witan, in its wisdom, sees fit to hail you as queen. Not until you are married will you take the kingdom at all.”

“Then,” said the princess, growing pale, “I will speak to the Witan myself, and learn their will.”

“The Witan has broken up,” answered Alsi, “and the good thanes are miles on their way homewards by this time. You are too late.”

“I will call them up again.”

“Certainly—that is, if I let my men run hither and thither to fetch them. But after all, in this matter I am master. Whom you wed lies with me.”

Goldberga saw that she was in the hands of the king, and maybe as much a prisoner as at Dover. So her spirits fled, and she asked what the king willed.

Alsi knew now that nothing but his utmost plan would be of any avail to save that kingdom for himself, and so he broke out into wrath, working up his fury that he might not go back.

“My will is that you obey me in this carrying out of the oath I took on the holy ring, [10] and on the Gospels also to please your mother. You shall marry the man whom I choose, so that he be according to the words of that oath.”

“So that he be king or son of a king, I will obey you,” answered Goldberga.

“Then you defy me. For that I have told you that I will not have. Now shall we see who is master. You mind yon kitchen knave of last night? There can be none in all England mightier or more goodly than he is to look on, and him shall you wed. So will my oath be well kept. Then if your precious Witan will have him, well and good, for his master shall I be.”

Thereat the princess said that it were better that she should die; but now Alsi had set out all his plan to her, and he did not mean to flinch from carrying it out. There was no doubt that the Norfolk people would hold that she had disgraced herself by the marriage, and so would refuse to have her as queen. And that was all he needed.

But Goldberga had no more to say, for she was past speaking, and the king was fain to call her ladies. And when they came he went away quickly, and gave orders for the safe keeping of the princess, lest she should try to fly, or to get any message to Ragnar or other of the Norfolk thanes.

Now he must go through with this marriage, for he had shown himself too plainly, and never would the princess trust him again. I have heard that he sent for Griffin at this time; but, as I found, he was gone; and if the king thought that perhaps the princess would wed him now to escape from the kitchen knave, he had no chance to bring him forward. I suppose he could have made out that Griffin, or for that matter any one else he chose, was such a one as his oath to Ethelwald demanded.

Sore wept Goldberga when she was back in her own place, and at first it was hard for her to believe that Alsi could mean what he had threatened. But then she could not forget her dream, and in that she had most certainly seen the very form of him who stood before her at the high place last night; and that perhaps troubled her more than aught, for it seemed to say that him she must wed. But no king’s son could he be, so that there must be yet such another mighty man to be found.

And then in her heart she knew that there could not be two such men, both alike in all points to him of the vision. And she knew also, though maybe she would not own it, that if this Curan had been but a thane of little estate, she could have had naught to say against the matter.

And so at last she found that in her trouble and doubt and wish for peace she was thinking, “Would that he were not the kitchen knave!”

Now, it chanced that the old nurse had gone out into the town, and was away all this while, so that she knew nothing of this new trouble; and presently she was coming back with her arms full of what she had bought, and there met her Havelok and Withelm, who had been to the widow’s, and were on their way to find me at the gate.

“Mother,” said Havelok, “let me help you up with these things.”

That frightened the old lady, for she had been looking at him, and had made up her mind that he was some mighty noble, as did most strangers.

“Nay, lord,” she said; “that is not fitting for you.”

“Less fitting is it that a strong man should see you thus burdened and not help. No lord am I, but only the cook’s man. So I am going to the palace.”

But this she would not believe at first, and still refused. However, Lincoln Hill is very steep, and she was not sorry when Havelok laughed and took the things from her so soon as she had to halt for breath.

“Curan will carry you up also, if you will, mother,” said Withelm.

The nurse tossed her head at him and made no answer, being on her dignity at once. Moreover, she had heard of Curan by this time, though she had not seen him before. So she said no more, and went on proudly enough, with her mighty attendant after her; but all the while it was in her mind that there was some jest, or maybe wager, between the two.

Now Withelm stopped at the gate; but I was not there, for I had been sent to the palace, where guards were to be at each door. The word was that some plot had been found out against the princess, and that therefore we had to be careful. One easily believed that with all the talk about the attack made on her party that was flying about. So he came on to the palace kitchens, for Berthun knew him well, having so often bought fish from him in the market; and there he sat down to talk with the steward, for there was nothing much going on at the time, and I was on guard.

Now, the old nurse went to her mistress; and Goldberga sat in the shadow, and was weeping no longer, seeing that it would not help at all.

“There is a wonder down yonder,” said the old lady, not seeing that there had been any trouble yet—“such a man as I never saw in all my days; and he even carried my goods up all the hill for me, old and ugly as I am. That is not what every young man would do nowadays. Maybe it was different when I was young, or else my being young made the difference. The youth with him called him Curan, which is the name of the strong porter they prate of, but doubtless that was a jest. This is the most kingly man that could be; and I ween that those two made a wager that he dared not carry a bundle up to the palace, whereby I was the gainer, for breath grows short up that pitch. And when I thanked him he bowed in that wise that can only come of being rightly taught when one is young. Now, I am going to ask Berthun who he is, for he spoke to him when he saw him, and that humbly, as it seemed.”

So talked the nurse, and to all Goldberga answered never a word, for all the trouble came back again, and with it the thought that she hated, that if only—

Then, as the nurse was leaving her, she called her back.

“Nurse,” she said, “I am in sore trouble about the dream. It bides with me, and will not cease to puzzle me until I weary for some one to read it plainly. I would that Queen Bertha’s good chaplain were here, for I might have been helped by him.”

Then the nurse came back, quick to hear the sad tone in the voice of her whom she had tended and loved since she was a child.

“Why, my pretty, have you been weeping?” she said. “There was naught in a dream like that to fray you thus.”

“Nay, but it has come to me that this place is altogether heathen; and it may have come from the hand of Freya, the false fiend that they worship as a goddess, so that I may be ready to wed a heathen. Is there no Christian in all this place?”

“There are Welsh folk yet left in the marsh,” said the nurse, pondering; “and where there is a Briton there is a Christian, and there, also, will be a hidden priest. But it would be as much as his life is worth to come here, even could we find one.”

Then Goldberga said, “Alsi is not altogether heathen. If I asked he would surely grant this.”

For she thought that she knew how to gain consent.

“If one can be found, and that is not likely. Well, then, I will ask Berthun, who is good-natured enough, and most likely will not trouble about a Christian coming here; and if so, we need not even ask Alsi.”

So she went, not thinking for a moment that there was a priest of the faith to be heard of. Mostly she wanted to hear more of Havelok, but she would honestly do her other errand.

But on her way across the courtyard she met Mord, and he was a great friend of hers.

“Whither now, nurse? They will not let you go out of the palace. They say that there is trouble on hand with those folk that fell on us, and we have to bide in shelter for a day or two.”

“Well, I have been down the town this hour, and all is quiet enough. This Alsi is an over-timid man. But I was seeking Berthun with a strange message from the princess, and one that is not over safe here.”

“Let me give it then.”

“Well, it is nothing more or less than to ask if he can find a Christian priest. Our mistress has had a strange dream, and it is true that it sorely troubles her. So she wants one to whom she may tell it, that it may be read aright. But though I must ask, I do not hope to find one.”

“Why,” said Mord, “there is not one Christian in all Lindsey.”

“I would not say that. When I was first here with Orwenna the queen, before she married Ethelwald, there were some in the marsh; for one day I heard my own tongue spoken there, hunting with my mistress; and so she stayed and talked with these poor folk, though the Welsh they spoke was bad enough. But they were Christians, as they told her in fear and trembling. They have not so much need to fear now.”

“Then I can help you,” said Mord gladly. “Say nothing to the cook, for I have found old friends who come from far in the marsh, and they will tell me at once if they have heard of any priest. Why, when I think, they know Welsh, and one has called himself by a Welsh name, and you have seen him—Curan the porter.”

“Ay; then do you ask these friends, and tell them that the sooner they can bring a priest the better shall they be rewarded. I would give much to have Goldberga’s mind set at rest.”

So Mord said that he would go at once; and glad he was to see Withelm sitting with Berthun,

“Well,” said the steward, “I have known Withelm of Grimsby for the last ten years or so, and I do not suppose that it matters if you speak with him.”

“Why should it matter if I speak with any one I choose?” asked Mord, somewhat angrily.

“That you must ask the king; for his orders are that the people of the princess have no dealings with outsiders for two days.”

“Mighty careful of us is Alsi all of a sudden,” said Mord. “I suppose he thinks that someone will stick a seax into some of us in all friendly wise while we are talking.”

But Berthun only laughed, and went to where the nurse was beckoning to him. He told her his own thoughts of Havelok, being glad to have a ready hearer.

At once Withelm was able to tell Mord that the old priest who was his friend was in Lincoln at this time by good chance, and that he would surely come to the princess at need. But when they came to talk of when and how, it did not seem all so easy; and Mord went to the nurse to tell her all.

Then they had to speak to Berthun about it, and he was kindly and willing to help; but he said that none might come to speak with the princess without leave from the king. No doubt he would grant it easily, if asked by Goldberga herself.

“I will go and tell her,” said the old lady. “Keep your man here till I return.”

Now she brought this good news to the princess, and one need not say how she rejoiced. And now a thought had come to her, and she was eager to send a message to Alsi.

“Surely,” she thought, “he does but threaten me with the kitchen knave, that he may make me change my will. And, therefore, if I say that I am ready to obey him, he will be pleased; and then time is gained at the least, and it is not possible that he will choose so badly for me after all.”

So when the nurse asked her what she would do about getting the priest to her presence, she said, “Go and tell my uncle first that I am willing to obey him in the matter of which we spoke this morning.”

“So that was what has troubled you after all, and not the dream? I thought it should not have made all these tear marks,” said the nurse quickly. “Now, why did you not tell me? I dare give Alsi a talking to if he needs it.”

“Nay, nurse, but it was the dream. My uncle and I did but disagree on somewhat, and maybe I was wrong. By-and-by I will tell you.”

“Tell me now, and then I shall know better how to ask for what you need.”

But Goldberga could not bring herself to say what Alsi had threatened, and now felt sure that she would hear no more of that. So she told the nurse that she had vowed only to marry a king, and that Alsi had been angry, saying that kings were not so easily found. Also, that he was the man who had to find her a husband.

“That is the best sense that this king ever spoke,” said the nurse. “Many a long year might you wait if you had your way thus. You are wise in sending that message. Well, after that I will ask him to let you see the priest, saying, if he is cross-grained, that a talk with him will make your mind even better fitted to obey. Many things like that I can say. We shall have him here presently.”

Now, all that seemed very good to both of them, and the nurse went her way. And when she came to Alsi, she gave the message plainly.

“That will save a great deal of trouble,” said the king. “Tell her that I am glad to hear it. She says this of her own accord, and not at your advice?”

“She told me before I had heard a word of what the trouble was between you. It was no word of mine.”

“I am glad of it. But I will say that I am somewhat surprised.”

And that was true, for this message seemed to Alsi to be nothing more or less than that Goldberga would marry his man. When he thought for a moment, however, he saw that it could not be thus; and also, it was plain to him what the poor girl had in her mind. And now he chuckled to think what a weapon he had against her. Nor would he be slow to use it.

Then the nurse said that he need have no surprise, for Goldberga was ever gentle and willing to be led, though sometimes the pride of her race came uppermost for a time. And then she asked if a certain priest of the faith might come and speak with her.

Now, Alsi knew that only one could be meant—namely, the hermit who bided at Cabourn. He had heard of him often, and would not suffer him to be hurt, for his sister Orwenna had protected him. The heathen English minded him not at all by this time, for he was the best leech in the land, and so useful to them. So Alsi said pleasantly that he was quite willing that the priest should come, deeming that he was at Cabourn, and that it would be a day or two before he would be brought.

So he called the housecarl from outside the door, and when he came he said, “Pass the word that when one who calls himself David comes and asks for the princess, he is to be admitted to her.”

So that was made easy, and the nurse thanked him and withdrew; and when he was alone, Alsi grinned evilly and rubbed his hands.

“Now is East Anglia mine in truth,” he said; and with that he bade the housecarl fetch Curan, the cook’s porter, to him. And then he sent one to Ragnar with such a message that he rode out that night and away to Norwich.