Part 8

"I cannot thank thee enough for thy spontaneous hospitality at a moment when without thy help I would surely have died of exhaustion. Thou wast sent me from God, as a sign that in His mercy He desireth me to continue my road. I have come from far, so far that to me it seems as if I had been wandering all my life."

He turned his trustful eyes to the youth, and with the smile which made him dear to every man's heart, he continued:

"Once, it may be years ago, for I have no more count of time, I lived in the palace of a king."

"Oh!" cried the boy, "why didst thou go?"

"Because," answered Eric, "I am seeking for a face which I cannot find--a face that I see in my dreams; so I had to leave all that rich ease and comfort, all that had sweetened my days, and always am I searching and still may have to wander many a mile."

The shepherd stared at him in growing astonishment, almost afraid that his strange guest might be crazy.

"It seems to me," he said, "that there are many faces on this earth; and why must thou journey so far looking for what is so easy to find? Why didst thou leave the king's palace? Forsooth, I would have remained and lived in joy and plenty;" and merrily he laughed, showing two rows of splendid white teeth.

Eric did not smile but replied:

"Ah! thou dost not understand. Dearly did I love my kingly master; and I grieve that I could not listen to his bidding. But there is something within each of us that when the time comes calls with insistent voice, and then we must leave all and follow. I am but a foolish youth, but this I have learnt: we cannot choose our lives nor in what way we desire to live them; some power there is stronger than our human will that carries us forward upon a road we do not know. I had but a short while ago a venerable master, and these were his words: 'That each man runs after the same thing, although each calls it by a different name.' The master I loved said the name he had found for it was Happiness, but that none of us realize when we have it in our hands. Why he said this I do not know. Dearly did I love to hear him talk, but not always did I grasp the meaning of his words."

"Happiness!" queried the peasant boy; "happiness! It soundeth sweet to the ear; dost thou think that thou shalt find it at the end of the way?"

Eric looked out into the flames of the fire before he slowly replied:

"The master said that we could grasp but the shadow, that the thing itself was God's. Deeply have I pondered over the sense of this saying, and this is what I have found in my mind: God hath not time for each man's clamouring, so He has strewn over the world things that shine and things that lie in the shadow; those that shine dazzle the eye and give pleasure, and those in the dark awake a longing to know, and thus God leads each man forward to search for himself, each according to his desire. But the wise man said that few reach it in the end, and when they do they seldom may keep it long. Ah! but I wish I knew! My heart is so full of longing, and yet I feel that some part of it will never be filled!"

But the peasant boy wanted to hear of other things; to him this talk was but a waste of time.

"Tell me, hast thou really climbed over this barrier of mountains; and how is it thou didst not perish on the way?"

Gundian took his sword between both hands, and looked at it with tears in his eyes:

"This sword kept me from death when I thought my last hour had come, and always, when all hope seemed at an end, something there was that saved me in my bitterest need.

"The old man of the hills believed in my power to win, and then ..."--Eric's voice trembled as he spoke--"I had at my side a sweet little soul that providentially had been given into my care; and a curious thing have I learnt: we can do for others what we cannot do for ourselves. Many a time would I have given in and died, had not the soft hand of the child kept hold on my life by the desire I felt that it should not perish!"

And then, his hands folded over the hilt of his sword, dreamily gazing afar off, Eric related, with many words, all he had seen and done.

The eyes of the lonely rustic hung, with ever growing interest, upon the face of his wonderful companion, and many a time did a loud exclamation either of joy or fear break from his lips; and when Eric told of the vision of angels, the boy started to his feet, hands joined in an ecstasy of delight.

"Thou didst see the heavenly hosts! Oh, tell me! Tell me! Were they indeed so fair? were their wings all shining and bright? had they crowns on their heads? And were their robes of snowy white? didst thou hear the sound of their voices? did they come quite near to thee? Oh! speak, I pray!"

Eric smiled very sadly.

"They brought peace to my soul at a moment when I thought my heart would break"; and within his mind our wanderer saw the face of his little friend smiling down upon him with lips that a breath of Heaven had already kissed.

"And now," asked the youth, "where art thou going? Or wilt thou remain with me? I am very forsaken up here on this far-off meadow. But dost know, it is said that no human foot can cross those mountains that thou hast scaled; it is said that amongst those lonely heights there is eternal snow and ice, and that it is always winter there when summer smiles on us here."

"Indeed it was cold; but what has crushed my joy is that it was not given me to save the child that Fate confided to my care; and this thou must know: that at the very instant I thought I had won, the Hand of God took from me what would have made my victory sweet. Indeed I reached the highest peak, and looked down upon the whole of the world beneath ... but ... well, I cannot explain--because I am too unlearned.

"I fear that I may not yet understand--I know not if thus it is with all we touch; the master I loved would have told me for sure if there is a hidden explanation I cannot grasp.

"He said that all our tears and hopes were needed for the making of a single whole--maybe my despair, at that moment which was loss and victory all in one, belongs also to some link of the chain. Alas! he is gone, to come no more, and I must grope alone in the dark to find the meaning of the many questions that weigh down my heart.

"But thou must tell me now what is that sunny country I saw beneath me when I was yonder, so near the skies? It was like a land all peace and beauty, sending from below to where I stood a message of hope and promise, luring me towards its fertile plains."

"It is my country," said the peasant. "I know not if it is full of beauty and promise, but I know that I love the village in which I live, that dear to me is the small cottage where my mother sits and spins, the old well from which the girls fetch water at the hour when the sun goes down. I love the great plain where the corn waves in the heat of the summer, and the long roads that are straight and dusty, upon which the carts are always rumbling never in a hurry to reach the end.

"It is a good country; and on feast days we dance in the villages, and the girls wear skirts of many colours. But from the time when the snow has melted I come to these lonely hills with my flocks, and here I quietly remain--as sole companions my dogs, and occasionally the visit of a shepherd like myself or that of a wandering monk--till the cold blasts of autumn drive me back to the plains.

"I do not mind the solitude--I have my flute, and the dear songs of my country; and we love not overmuch to live in a hurry, or to move about with busy hands.

"My mother weaves and spins, and my sisters embroider strange designs on the shirts they will wear on the day of their marriage. Oh, indeed I love this country of mine!"

"Tell me more," begged Eric. "I love to hear thee talk. I feel then the peace of thy plains steal over my weary body that has come from so far."

"There is not much to tell," answered the boy. "Our cottages are small and are covered with shaggy roofs of thatch and maize. Large sunflowers look in at the tiny windows, and when a stranger all hot and tired comes along the road the dogs rush out from every door and the air is filled with their barking and noise.

"At the fall of night the herds come home raising clouds of dust as they pass. Each one knows the corner where it dwells, and stops of its own accord at its own gate, while the small boys run about bare-foot clacking their whips. In winter everything is deeply enveloped with snow, which lies like a cover of feathers, keeping the fields warm from the frost, and when the sun goes to bed it lights up the sky with flaming red that spreads over the snow as well; and then black troops of crows fly across the horizon, and settle like a dark cloud upon the white immensity, flat and endless, as far as the eye can reach.

"And when spring comes the wind blows in storms and dries up the lakes made by the melting snow. Then the fields are a patchwork of black and white; timidly the little flowers push their heads through the dead leaves in the woods, and the children run out of the villages to gather them in bunches which they sell to the passers-by. Thou must remain with me and I shall tell thee more!"

But Eric explained that he must soon continue his road, for he knew not how far he still had to go:

"All roads will feel soft to my feet after the mountains I have climbed; but my heart has lost its brightness and I begin to wonder what I shall reach in the end.

"At first the gladness that filled my being found an echo in each thing I met as I went along. I used to sing and play on my flute. And then came days when all was strange and full of secret dangers I could never understand.

"Later I climbed those awful mountains; much did I find there, and much did I lose. But I no more sing as once I did."

Both boys had risen and gone to the door of the hut, where they stood, hands linked, looking out on the night; and there on the stump of a tree near by sat the beautiful falcon, and round his neck the blue diamond still blazed like a consoling star. Eric went to the bird and laid his hand on its head; the faithful creature turned his way and a bright light shone in its eyes.

"This was my trusted scout, who showed me where I should go; but I fear he will no more follow me when I go down to the plains. If thou allowest I shall still spend this night under thy roof and then go my way."

"I wish I could leave my flocks," cried the youth, "and follow thee; thy face is so fair, and never have I heard voice more sweet. I fear I shall see thee no more, for thou seemest out of a world of dreams."

Eric did not reply, but stood looking into the night; then very slowly he unfastened the golden chain he still wore round his neck, and slipped it over the head of his host.

"Keep this in token that really I have been with thee; but now let me rest on thy couch, for I must leave thee soon."

He turned back into the hut, and throwing himself upon the sacks of dry leaves that formed the shepherd's bed, he was soon fast asleep, his head buried in the folds of his cloak. The sun stood already far over the mountain tops when Eric awoke after a refreshing sleep upon the primitive resting-place.

Outside the shepherd-boy was watching his sheep, leaning on his staff in his wonted attitude.

When he saw that Eric was awake he greeted him with a happy smile, and immediately set about getting him food, and a freshly milked drink, all white and warm.

Upon Eric's bidding he led his guest to a little spring near by, where at last he could wash off all traces of his past wanderings.

His wounds had been awkwardly bound up by the kind-hearted youth on the first night, while he lay in a swoon.

Eric winced with pain when the cold water came in contact with his scarcely healed skin; but it was a glorious joy to bathe in the fresh running stream, and at last our traveller felt more like his old self.

During his ablutions his host had carried off his once so neat clothes, and when he came back to the hut he found the faithful boy sewing up the rents in the rich black stuff with a long thread and needle.

He had brushed away, as well as he could, all the spots and stains, but the velvet coat and silken hose had kept little resemblance to the neat apparel in which the King's favourite had started from the white palace of the north. Eric lay down in the grass, turning his bare back to the smiling sun-rays.

Both youths joked happily together, as the peasant sewed away with diligent fingers. And when they had no more words to say, the shepherd lifted his young quavering voice and sang long-drawn ditties, which ever had a mournful ring in their notes, full of melancholy and patient longing.

Eric felt almost happy. His recent adventures seemed far-away dreams of another life; but he knew he never would be able to forget all that he had suffered, knew that the gay thoughtless boy, who had started long ago, was for ever a thing of the past.

The falcon still sat upon the stump of the tree and watched with quiet attention these two boys of such different races, the one so fair, the other so dark, both handsome and good to look upon; but no man can know what thoughts lay behind those piercing eyes.

After a while the last stitch had been put, and the kindly youth held up the velvet coat in triumph, so that the sun shone upon it making it look quite new.

"Never have I seen stuff so soft," he exclaimed, whilst he stroked the rich worn tissue with his hand.

"And it is all silk within, silvery grey, like the rays of the moon! And thou hast given me thy golden chain! Was it indeed a gift from the northern King? And to think that thou left him and all his glory to wander all over the world in search of a face! Ah! never shall I know if thou hast found it in the end! That thought is sad to me. Forsooth, I wish I could call thee brother!"

"Call me whatever thou willst," Eric replied. "I shall think of thee when I am far; for didst thou not tend me with loving care? Didst thou not feed me when I was famished and tired? Didst thou not save me when I knew I could move no farther? No brother could have done more; and one day, perhaps, we shall meet again. What is thy name?"

"I am called Radu the shepherd, and my father possesses two fields and a cart, with oxen that are grey like the stones on the road; their horns are so long that it is difficult for them to hold their heads close together; but we are poor all the same, and that is why I tend my flocks on these mountain pastures so far from my village. But if thou dost tarry for a time in yonder plains I may meet thee yet when I return to my home; but one thing I must give thee before thou goest--thy shoes are quite beyond repair--I have a couple of new sandals meant for Sunday use; they may not be what thou art accustomed to wear, but my heart will be glad if thou wilt accept so small a gift from me. Also I must see to thy wounds. I have an ointment, made by the wisest woman of our village, that can heal any sore. Come into my lowly hut and it will be my joy to dress thee and bind up thy cruel cuts!"

Eric gladly followed his kind friend, deeply touched by so much simple hospitality, and gave himself over into the clever hands of the boy: he was soon freshly bandaged with a soothing salve spread upon his aching scars.

Then he put on his neatly patched clothes, and let his host fasten the sandals on his feet, wind the long leather thongs about his legs, and tie them firmly under the knee.

Not yet content with all he had done, the boy searched about in the painted chest, and drew from its depths a long staff, richly decorated with patterns cut out of metal and fixed upon the wood with tiny nails.

"This I have worked upon for years, inventing the most intricate designs. It has been the pleasure of my lonely hours, and I want thee to have it, because never have I loved a face as much as thine; nothing so fair has ever come my way! But don't forget Radu the shepherd! It would grieve me sore!"

Now the beautiful sword was girt round our wanderer's waist, the much-used cloak hung over his back; and then, taking the boy's present in his hand, he drew the kindly friend into his arms and held him long in a warm embrace.

When the peasant lifted his head from Eric's shoulder large hot tears were running down his cheeks.

For a last time the two boys firmly clasped hands, and then Eric tore himself away. The falcon spread its white wings and flew before him leading the way.

Several times Eric turned to look his last on the comrade who had been so kind; there he stood silhouetted against the sky, leaning as ever upon his staff, his flock around him, his dogs at his feet.

XX

I saw her eyes like stars and her face pale and wonderful as dawn, and her lips like twilight water.

FIONA MACLEOD.

Eric had now reached the base of the mountains, had actually set his foot within that fruitful, smiling plain.

One of the long roads that he had perceived from the heights lay before him.

It was covered with thick white dust, and on both sides the cornfields stood in ripening abundance, rippling in the soft wind like waves that had been dyed yellow by the rays of the sun. Bright-tinted flowers grew in the ditches--red, blue, and yellow--a feast for the traveller's eye.

Eric walked quickly; new hope had risen in his heart, his body felt rested, his spirit eager; he wondered if this would be the land of his dreams? The sun shone upon him from a cloudless sky; the crystal of his sword reflected its dazzling blue, whilst the staff he held in his hand had turned into burnished gold.

He passed many peasants as he went, and all of them turned and gazed after this stranger in silken clothes.

Eric had never lost his radiant smile; and all whom he met felt better and richer because they had looked upon the light that shone in his eyes.

Never had he seen roads so straight and so shadeless; they seemed to lead in an uncurving line from one end of the earth to the other; and those that walked upon them were never in a hurry.

Strings of carts laden with freshly cut corn and hay moved slowly along, the heads of the patient oxen bent low to the ground, straining under the weight they dragged.

High above the swinging loads long-haired youths stretched in lazy content, piped dreamy tunes upon their wooden flutes, their eyes hidden beneath broad-brimmed hats. All were dressed in the same white shirts Radu had worn.

There were also old men walking beside the vehicles, bearing heavy scythes on their shoulders.

Their faces were browned, the colour of sun-baked earth; and from under the shade of their hats silvery locks hung down covering the napes of their wrinkled necks.

One friendly peasant had bidden Eric take a rest on the top of his hay, and our wanderer had gladly accepted, swinging himself up on the swaying mass.

There he reposed among the fragrant green, half buried beneath the flowers of yesterday.

The faithful hawk flew down from the blue and perched close to his feet. Eric closed his eyes, hugging his sword to his breast; and as he did so the vision of his dream stood before him with startling vividness.

Never had he seen the face so distinctly; never had the eyes looked into his from so near. He sat up, almost expecting to find some unknown being at his side; but no--he was shut in all about by the withered grass that smelt so sweet and was so deliciously soft to his limbs.

But why had he so clearly felt his vision's sweet presence? It made his heart beat with breathless excitement. How warm the sun was! How long the road!

The clouds of dust raised by the wheels of the carts were so thick that Eric could no more see where he was going. But had he not always allowed Fate to shape events as she would? This time again he would not worry, but simply believe in his luck as he had done all along, and trust in God who had so mercifully guided his steps.

Eric must have fallen asleep on his moving bed, because when he awoke the sun was already low and the carts had stopped beside a wood near the edge of the road. The peasants had unyoked their oxen, which were quietly chewing the cud, watching their masters with large humid eyes, their tails lazily flicking the swarms of flies from off their flanks.

The men sat in groups; some smoking, some preparing their meal of Indian corn over a small fire they had lit in the ditch.

Eric climbed down from his lofty resting-place, looking around him rather dazed from his sleep.

The falcon rose noiselessly into the air and flew off, perching upon a tall tree in the wood beyond. It had not yet forsaken its travelling companion, and Eric followed its flight with an affectionate look.

The men made room for the youth as they all sat around the boiling pot that hung over the fire from three crossed bars. One man stirred the thick dough with a solid rounded stick; from time to time they took draughts of cool water, putting their lips to the thick spouts of quaintly shaped earthen pots which were standing at their side.

None could resist our traveller's charm, and every one treated him as an honoured guest, wherever he brought his sunny smile, his dreamer's eyes, and his golden locks.

His new hosts asked him a few vague questions, about what he was doing, whither he was going, and whence he came; but they showed no great eagerness; it even appeared to Eric as if nothing could take them by surprise. In their quiet acceptation of all that came and went, they much reminded Eric of their own beasts of burden.

They did not seem to think, but only to dream, and consider one thing as good as another; they were ready to share whatever was theirs with this stranger whom they had met on the way.

In the distance a tiny village could be seen, hidden amongst thick shrubs and trees; but the peasants explained it was not their home; they still had far to go, so they meant to stop here for the night, sleeping either in the ditch among the dusty flowers or upon their loads of hay.

They kindly proposed that Eric should remain with them and rest beside their carts, which he agreed to do; but before settling down for the night he felt inclined to wander through the wood and to discover what lay beyond.

The peasants had suddenly espied the wonderful sword that hung from his belt, and they would not let him go before they had handled it in turns.

For a moment they dropped their calm in loud exclamations of approval, and stood around him as he let the blade flash in the sinking light.

Then he moved away, and soon was lost among the oaks of the wood that spread their branches over his head. Through their thick trunks the setting sun could be seen turning the sky into a burning furnace, and one side of every trunk seemed glowing hot as the fiery rays smote upon it.

A thick carpet of green spread beneath his feet, and innumerable birds sang amongst the trees as he passed. The wood was small, and before long Eric had reached the farther side.

In front of him stretched the broad bed of a river, now almost dry; but in several places the water flowed calmly along in separate streams.

The banks were bordered with grey-green willows and on the small islands in the river's bed the same trees thickly grew. The water was dyed red by the sinking sun, and each stone shone like a jewel, as if some wasteful king had cast all his treasure away.

There, where the river was dry, Eric perceived a group of small brown tents, like giant withered leaves, that the parting sun was turning into every shade of rust and orange.

Little columns of smoke mounted into the air on all sides, throwing their blue veil of filmy vapour over the bushes in the background.

Tied up to some trees near by were lean, hungry-looking horses of all sorts, and solemn grey donkeys wandered about amongst the loose stones cropping each blade of grass they could find.