Porlor and his Companion Kidnapped by Sea–thieves

THE PALADINS
OF
EDWIN THE GREAT

THE PALADINS
OF
EDWIN THE GREAT
BY
SIR CLEMENTS R. MARKHAM, K.C.B.
NEW EDITION
LONDON
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
1908

First published September 1896.
Reprinted August 1901. New Edition September 1908.

CONTENTS

PART I.—HOME

PART II.—EXILE

PART III.—WORK

ILLUSTRATIONS
By Ralph Peacock

PREFACE

Very little is known for certain of one of the most important events in the history of the world, the coming of the Englishmen to England. It took a long time, fully a century, from 450 A.D. to 550 A.D., and they came constantly, in small detachments for the most part, landing on the coast, in all directions, from the Forth to the Isle of Wight. They came amidst the ruins of the mighty Roman Empire, a new race of empire–founders, with all the germs of a still mightier future.

The new–comers from the older Angeln or England, now called Sleswig, came in the greatest numbers. We know not why, but it certainly was a wholesale movement. They kept launching their small fleets of dragon ships, and crossing the North Sea with their gods, their door–posts, and their beautiful golden–haired wives and children, until none were left. They brought with them all the deep religious feeling, all the imaginative mythology, all the heroic tales of the old land. They first disembarked on the coast between the Forth and the Tees, driving back the natives into Strathclyde, after a struggle which lasted for many years. Among them came Ida the son of Eoppa, with twelve sons, in forty dragon ships full of English warriors. He founded the castle of Bambrough on the coast, which was at first surrounded with a hedge and afterwards with a wall; and in 547 A.D. he became king of the country of Bernicia, between the Forth and the Tees. Ida was surnamed the "Flame–bearer." He reigned for twelve years in Bernicia, when Ethelric his son succeeded him.

Many more warriors landed on the coast between the Tees and the Humber; and in 559 A.D. their Eolderman, named Ella, the son of Iffi, the son of Wuscfrea, and twelfth in descent from Woden, became king of the more southern Northumbrian kingdom of Deira.

When they were settled in their kingdom of Deira, with Ella as their king, and Elfric his brother as their leader in war, the sea–rovers became farmers, ready to defend their possessions and to fight for the acquisition of more territory for their countrymen. They were the ceorls or freemen assembling in communities of families, within a boundary or mark, and known by a common name with the addition of the patronymic ing. The ceorl owned a hide of land, bore arms, had a vote, and took part in the thing, or general assembly of his mark. The union of marks formed a wapentake (Vopnatak), from the custom of touching the chief's spear in token of fealty. The union of Wapentakes formed the Scire or Shire with its Shire–mót. The Ceorl was the freeman, while the Eorl was the nobleman or chief in peace and war, and the Eolderman was a prince of the family of the Cyning (from cyne, generous) or king, who wore the cynehelm or circlet of gold.

The Englishmen came with their immemorial gods, and their grand old traditions. Woden was their All–father and Creator, Thor the mighty enemy of giants and trolls, Tyr the god of war. They invoked Balder the bright and fair of aspect; Freyr, who presided over rain and sunshine; Niord, who ruled the winds; Ægir, god of the ocean; and many more. "Our forefathers derived comfort in affliction, support in difficulty, from the belief that the gods watched over them. They bent in gratitude for the blessings they conferred, and were guided and directed in the daily business of life by the conviction of their responsibility to higher powers than any which they recognised in the world around them." A religious feeling was the basis of their respect for law—of their loyalty, of their free institutions, and of those customs and habits of thought which were the foundation–stones of the edifice of English liberty. These old warriors brought with them to their new homes all those germs which were fertilised by their virtues, and watered with the life–blood of their valour, until, in the course of centuries, they grew up to form the greatest nation this earth has ever seen, a fruitful and beneficent tree, spreading its branches far and wide round the world.

It was, in all probability, not Ella and Elfric, nor their war–comrades Seomel and Brand, Vidfinn and Guthlaf, who first crossed the sea from Angeln; for it must have taken two or three generations to establish the English firmly in Northumbria, and their grandfathers were the original invaders. They found the country desolate, and for the most part waste. The Roman roads traversed the moors and forests, and formed causeways over the swamps, but the stations were abandoned and ruinous. There was scarcely any cultivation. Vast tracts were covered with forests, the haunts of wild cattle and red–deer, of boars and badgers, of wolves and wild–cats. It was in truth the "Deira" or land of wild animals. The ponds and marshes were frequented by myriads of wild–fowl, and few had ever penetrated into the hidden recesses of the wildernesses. By very slow degrees, amidst wars and disturbance, the English began to change the whole face of the country. The first beginnings were in the days of Ella and Elfric, when defensible homesteads were built, land was apportioned, and laws began to be obeyed.

On the death of Ella in 588 his son Edwin fled before Ethelric King of Bernicia, who conquered Deira, but, after the death of Ethelric, Edwin took heart and not only reconquered his own kingdom of Deira but Bernicia also, and united them both in one great kingdom of Northumbria.

The history of the early struggles into existence of any of the peoples who, in later centuries, have formed the nations of modern Europe is unfortunately so obscure that it can only furnish us with a mere general outline of the course of events.

Occasionally, however, the record of a short period is found, like an oasis in a desert, which is full of most interesting details. The welcome narrative abruptly begins, and as suddenly ends, pleasing the reader with anecdotes, speeches, estimates of character, and other precious materials for history. There is a very remarkable example of this in Bede's invaluable work. Nothing can be more tantalising than the extremely meagre character of the accounts that have been preserved of the leaders of the people, the makers of England, as Mr. Green called them, during the Heptarchy, the all–important period when England was made. But there is one striking exception. When the venerable monk of Jarrow reaches the period of Edwin of Northumbria his narrative somehow has fresh life and vigour breathed into it, and the following half–century receives the same welcome treatment. We see real progress being made in the civilisation of the country and the condition of the people, which, though checked, was not put a stop to even by the desolating invasions of Penda and Cadwalla.

One eagerly looks for the causes both of the increased life in Bede's narrative and of this remarkable period of sudden progress. The full details furnished for Edwin's history are so exceptional that the circumstance was discussed by Dr. Giles, the editor of Bohn's edition of Bede. He considers it to be clear that Bede must have had access to highly valuable materials, for his details are too minute in themselves and too accurately defined to have been derived by him from tradition only.

The phenomena of the history of Edwin's reign are, however, far more interesting than any question relating to Bede's materials. We find a man who had passed his life in exile, and under every disadvantage, suddenly developing into a most efficient ruler and giving vigour and direction to every branch of his administration. But this is not all. He is found assuming ensigns of sovereignty, adopting measures and undertaking expeditions of a character not at all in accordance with what could possibly be expected from a sovereign of any state in the English Heptarchy of that period.

There is one natural way of accounting for the various problems connected with Edwin's life–story, and especially with his reign. The presence of a bigoted and very timid Roman monk, like Paulinus, in attendance on his Queen, will in no way explain them. Edwin caused a chronicle of his labours to be written; he assumed ensigns only known at the court of the Emperor; he provided for the convenience of travellers in a way only practised in the East; he equipped a fleet for the subjugation of distant islands; he established order in a way so effectual that no organisation known in the England of the seventh century could have enforced it.

Edwin was a man of great ability, it must be conceded, but this will not account for the introduction of measures so at variance with the ideas and habits of the governments of the Heptarchy at that time. One explanation covers all the ground. It is quite possible that, owing to a very extraordinary combination of circumstances, certain countrymen of Edwin may have had rare opportunities of visiting the distant regions of the then known world, of studying many things in many climes, and that, after years of absence, they may have returned home. Surrounded by such men as his friends and ministers, the history of his reign is made perfectly clear. A hint here and there even enables us to guess who some of these great men were. History, in that age, usually gives us a mere skeleton. Bede, fortunately, in the case of the illustrious Northumbrian Bretwalda and his people, gives us much more, but not nearly enough. Following the venerable historian closely and exactly, it is not an unworthy aspiration to fill up the blanks, and to present these workers in the making of England as living and moving beings. Even we, at this distance of time, may owe them something. All the seeds that they scattered so perseveringly and so earnestly, and with such loving care for their country and its welfare, cannot have fallen among thorns or on rocky ground. It is such considerations which have given rise to this attempt to tell the strange and romantic story of the Paladins of King Edwin the Great.

C. R. M.

[PART I]

HOME

CHAPTER I

STILLINGFLEET

The sacred ash tree spread its wide leafy branches over the court of the Stillingas. On one side of this court was the long hall, built of timber, with quaintly–carved joists and gables, on two others were the barns and cattle–sheds, the whole being surrounded by a stiff quickset hedge concealing the view of the open country. This ash was not only sacred from its size and antiquity, and as an emblem of the ash tree of Yggdrasil, but it also had an elf hole through which children could be passed, a peculiarity possessed by no other ash for miles around. Six children were dancing joyously round the tree one bright summer afternoon 1300 years ago, and making the whole place resound with merry laughter. The eldest was twelve years of age, a sturdy, straight–limbed boy named Coelred, the eldest son of Seomel, the warrior chief of the Stillingas. He had blue eyes and a sunburnt little face, with masses of brown hair falling over his shoulders. His brother Porlor, two years his junior, was a bright child with a dreamy, thoughtful look in his eyes when at rest, and a strong little frame fit for sustained work even at that early age. Their companion, Hereric, numbering the same years as Porlor, was an inch taller, and his hair was golden and glistened as the sun's rays rested on it. He was a young prince, son of the warrior Elfric, the brother of Ella the king of Deira. His little brother Osric was only three years of age. The four boys had two girls for playfellows—Bergliot, the golden–haired princess, aged six years, and Braga, or Bragaswith, the little sister of Coelred and Porlor. Ella, the king, lived at Aldby with his queen and his daughter, the princess Alca, aged sixteen, and the new–born prince Edwin, the hope of Deira. Elfric was established at the Aldwark, the remains of the imperial palace within the walls of Eburacum, or Eoforwic (York), as the English then called it. But he was a widower, and his children were generally at Stillingfleet, under the care of the gentle wife of Seomel, the British lady Volisia. Elfric himself was also a frequent visitor, to consult with Seomel, his friend and companion in arms, over the affairs of the frontier.

DANCING ROUND THE SACRED ASH

On that bright summer afternoon the Lady Volisia sat on a bench by the carved door–post of the hall, her baby–girl Nanna asleep by her side. She was tall and slim, with a slightly aquiline nose and soft brown eyes. She watched the happy group round the ash tree, a gentle smile lighting up her face as she bent again over her work. It consisted of a bright–coloured scarf to which she was attaching tassels. Presently the children left off dancing and began passing each other through the elf hole. It was said to bring luck, but it was too rough a game for the little ones, so the lady called the children to come round her, and told them that they should play the chance game for the scarf. This was one of the most ancient of all Teutonic games. Every child held the edge of the scarf with both hands. One was chosen to say a well–known spell, touching a hand at each word, and the hand on which the last word fell was dropped out. The spell was then repeated as often as necessary, and the owner of the last hand left won the game. Twelve small hands held the scarf, and the Princess Bergliot said the spell.

Thus it ran:

The final "ut" came to Hereric the Atheling, but he presented the scarf, with all the ardour of a lover of ten years old, to his little playmate Braga. At the moment that the happy and smiling child received it, a horn was heard in the distance, and all ran at full speed to the gateway left in the line of the defensive hedge. Coelred, the eldest, was allowed to rush on, but the rest were called back by Volisia to await the arrivals within the courtyard.

The view outside the surrounding hedge showed that the home of Seomel, the chief of the Stillingas, stood on the edge of a ridge running east and west, with a stream flowing through the valley below. The homesteads of the Stillingas, each with some tillage and pasturage round it, were built at intervals on either side of the stream, just clear of the highest flood. But beyond the narrow valley the whole landscape consisted of one dense forest. The ridge was chiefly wooded with ash trees, whence the name of Escrick (or Ashridge) for its more eastern part, and a short steep hill led down from the gateway of the Stillingfleet to the margin of the brook.

Coelred ran down the hill, and his bare legs and feet carried him through the water and up the opposite side, just as the cavalcade emerged from the forest. It consisted of Elfric the Atheling; Seomel, the chief of the Stillingas; Guthlaf, the chief of the Hemingas; the Princess Alca, a young girl numbering sixteen summers, with her women; the gleeman Coifi; and a following of warriors returning from a short campaign against their northern neighbours of Bernicia. It is not certain whether the ladies rode as is now the fashion. Some people maintain that the Lady Wake, grandmother of the Fair Maid of Kent, was the first Englishwoman who used a side–saddle, 800 years afterwards. Others consider that the question is unsettled. At all events, while Guthlaf took his leave and rode on to his more distant home with his followers, and the Stillinga folk made for their homesteads in the valley, the rest cantered up the hill and dismounted in the courtyard, where they were warmly greeted by Volisia and the children. Coelred ran like a young deer by his father's horse, and it was his proud privilege to assist the Lady Alca to dismount.

Elfric and Seomel were men of gigantic proportions, tall, sinewy, and well knit, with blonde beards and fair hair flowing over their shoulders, and of the same height. They wore over their linen tunics leathern shirts with iron scales or rings sewn upon them in rows, over which were metal collars. Their hose were blue, cross–gartered from ankle to knee with strips of leather, and their shoes had an opening down the instep tied close with thongs. On their left sides hung long single–edged iron swords, with hilts wrought of silver and bronze and scored with mystic runes, in wooden scabbards tipped and edged with bronze. Short daggers, called seax, were suspended from their girdles on the right side. The small round war–boards or shields, with an iron boss, were slung over their backs, and in their hands were the long ashen spears. Their helmets were of leather bound with iron and crested with iron–wrought figures of wild boars with eyes of brass. Over their armoured shirts they wore embroidered cloaks of blue cloth, fastened on their shoulders with a golden and jewelled buckle. Coifi, the gleeman, was in less warlike guise. He wore a garment with tight sleeves and embroidered breast, not unlike a smock–frock, with a hood attached, his feet and legs being cross–gartered, while a small harp was suspended round his neck and hung at his left side.

The return from a warlike expedition was usually the occasion for a feast in the hall of the chief. It was so in this instance. As the sun went down Alca and the children retired to rest in the inner rooms, while the servants prepared the meal. In the centre of the long hall was the hearth–fire, with a hole in the roof for smoke; but now it was covered with green boughs, and on either side of it the boards were fixed on trestles. The freemen, or ceorls, of the Stillingas and of the Atheling almost filled the great room, seated in rows on the benches or settles, while the Prince and Seomel, with his wife, took their places at the head of the upper board. Our English ancestors were very clean, the use of baths was general, and before the Stillingas sat down to meat water was brought them for hands and feet. The fare was good and plentiful, meat being handed round on spits, while the horns were filled with ale, and the warriors talked in groups over the events of the campaign. But it was not until the Lady Volisia had herself handed round the brimming mead–cups to her guests and had retired, that the harp and song were called for. Then all eyes turned to the famous gleeman who had arrived in the Atheling's train from York. No man in the kingdom came near him for depth of knowledge of the ancient religion or of the folk–lore of the English. He stood by the chiefs at the upper end of the hall and tuned the harp as the mead–cup circulated.

Coifi sang that thrilling legend which never failed to arouse the enthusiasm of his countrymen, and which was peculiarly appropriate after an expedition which had for its object the rescue of a Deiran town from a Bernician invasion. He told how the hero Beowulf came to Heorot with a chosen band, to rescue the subjects of King Hrothgar from the cruelties of their fiendish enemy Grendel; how Beowulf, single–handed, tore the monster's arm from his shoulder; how he then overcame Grendel's mother at the bottom of the sea with the aid of the sword Hrunting; and how he returned home victorious after this dread encounter. The touches of nature in the descriptions of scenery, the exciting speeches and challenges, the warlike sentiments, went right home to the hearts of his hearers, and loud and long was the applause at the conclusion of each fytte or canto, when the mead–cup passed round, and Coifi paused for breath.

And here the singer for his art
Not all in vain may plead:

The song that nerves a nation's heart
Is in itself a deed.

At length the long but inspiriting song was ended. Seomel and the Atheling retired, the Stillingas went to their homes, while straw was shaken down along the hall, behind the mead–benches, as beds for the strangers. An eventful day thus ended, and all was silence in the courts of Seomel.

CHAPTER II

ALCA

Alca was the most beautiful girl that her countrymen had ever beheld; and even then, at the early age of sixteen years, as she tripped out into the crowded court, she appeared to the beholders to be a perfect dream of loveliness, lithe and active, yet with the graceful dignity of a long–descended princess. Her hair was golden, her eyes a deep sapphire blue, with that calm depth of meaning which was then believed to be one attribute of an elf–maiden. Alca, from a young child, had been remarkable for the universality of her love, which was extended to all the gods had made. Her wisdom and knowledge were far beyond her years, and seemed to those around her to be miraculous. She saw the true meanings of beliefs and customs. She alone was able to extract the hidden truth from the mysteries of nature, and could understand those longings and aspirations which her companions could only dimly shadow forth by their creeds and their superstitions. All loved the Princess, but they looked upon her as one nearer to gods than to men; and only children dared to love her without awe, and as a being higher and wiser, but still one of themselves. For the rest of the world Alca was an elf–maiden endowed with special gifts by the gods.

The Princess had accompanied her uncle to Stillingfleet to see her cousins and other young friends, and to visit the Lady Volisia, to whom she was warmly attached. On that summer morning she was to go with her friend to the shrine of a goddess of her people on the other side of the Ouse, attended by the children and by several servants. When they reached the bank it was high tide. A large flat–bottomed boat was run into the water, and the party was pulled across by the boys to an old Roman fort on the opposite side, called Acaster. It consisted of two towers, like those on the column of Trajan, surrounded by a ditch. It was on the verge of a dense forest, in which some clearings had been made. The whole tract forming the angle between the Ouse and Wharfe was forest–clad, except where clearings had been made for planting apple and other fruit trees, and where the ings or swampy meadows formed a fringe between the forest and the river banks. The pilgrims made their way through the thickets by a very narrow path without stopping, for the promised visit to the orchards was to be on their return, after their devotions had been duly paid to the goddess.

Nehalennia, to whose worship the wife of Seomel had remained faithful, was a Celtic goddess, who presided over fertility, and especially over fruit trees, and who was also the goddess of chalk pits and the patroness of chalk workers. The temple or haruc (Hörgr), as the English called it, was unbuilt by human hands. The deity dwelt in a shady spot, embowered and shut in by self–grown trees, veiling her form in the rustling foliage of the overhanging boughs. Here, just within the forest, but bordering on the bright expanse of ings, stood a large slab of limestone, on which was carved in relief an image of Nehalennia, with long flowing hair, and baskets full of apples by her side. Masses of elecampane (Inula Helenium) and of other medicinal plants grew round the base of the carved stone, and a solemn silence reigned around. A few rays of the mid–day sun found their way through the overhanging branches, and lighted up the bas–relief, carved by some well–trained Roman hand. The Lady Volisia, the Princess Alca, and the children made their offerings to the shrine, and continued kneeling in devotion for some time. It was the very spot on which the Cistercian nunnery of Appleton was erected 600 years afterwards.

The party made their way through the dense forest from the shrine of Nehalennia to the orchards of Appleton, which supplied Stillingfleet and all the homesteads round York. Here they rested under the apple trees, eating the rosy fruit, while Alca talked to the children. Porlor had asked her why Nehalennia was not also a goddess of the English, and she answered in the way which would make the essence of such mysteries most clear to her companions. "The names only are different," she said, "the deity is the same. Your mother and her people pray for fertility to Nehalennia, and you and Coelred and your sisters should do likewise, because invocation of the same name is one more tie of love between mother and children. Your father's people invoke Freyr to send them rain and sunshine, and to give them the fruits of the earth in due season. But it is the same thing. Both are names to denote the beneficent goodness of the 'All–father,' he whom the English call Woden. Remember that whatever god we invoke, we are always praying, through one of his attributes, to the 'All–father.'

"Woden has many names," she exclaimed in a voice which awed her companions, and with a rapt look, as if gazing through space and seeing what was not visible to them. "He is the God and Father of victory, the Giver of gifts, the Almighty and All–knowing, but always the Father and Creator of gods and men. Sitting on his throne hlidskialf he can survey the whole world, and can hear all that goes on among men. His spear gûnguir is in his hand; his ravens, Huginn and Muninn, are on his shoulders; his wolves, Geri and Freki, are at his feet; his horse Sleipnir by his side. He too is the Father of the slain, and the Rewarder of the brave and good when this life is ended." After a pause her eyes lost that far–away look, and were full of love as she turned to the children, and promised to tell them the meaning of all these things as soon as they were old enough to understand. Coelred, who had been eagerly listening to all the Princess had said, now anxiously inquired about the slain, and about the fatherhood of Woden in regard to them. "In three years," he said, "I shall be girded with a sword, and shall take my place in battle by the side of my father Seomel. How soon after that will Woden choose me to be one of the slain: are the bravest taken first, or the youngest, or those who are of least service? Can the Princess tell me?" Alca replied, as they wended their way home—"Of that hour it is given to none to tell. Woden sends his wish–maidens, called Valkyrie, who fly through the air to choose the heroes that are to fall. Often the best and bravest are taken, sometimes the very young, sometimes a warrior waits long and fights in many battles before his turn comes. No good warrior fears the Valkyrie. They are to be loved, not feared. They hover over the conflicting armies, mingle in the ranks, take the slain in their embraces, and ride with them on their heavenly horses to Valhalla, where they attend at the feasts, and hand the drinking–horn to gods and heroes. But touching the hour of death nothing can be known, because the selection is made on the spot by the Valkyrie. The time we cannot know." Then she turned with a sweet smile, and, looking from one to the other, she said to the two boys, "Yet this I do know, for it is given to me to know. When the fulness of time arrives, Coelred and Porlor will fall in battle, fighting bravely in a righteous cause."

The boys were deeply impressed. Their hearts were too full for words, and there was silence until they reached the old Roman tower at Acaster and had crossed the river. It was broken by Porlor, who asked if the Valkyrie could be seen. "No," replied Alca, "they are unseen in battle; for, like Woden and the Valhalla, they are a mystery, which it is given to few to understand." "But," persisted Porlor, "cannot they put on the alptahamir (swan shifts), and take the form of birds of augury? Our friend Oswith, the son of Guthlaf, told us that he saw three swans alight on Derwent bank, put their white swan shifts in the grass, and turn into beautiful maidens. They bathed in the river, resumed their shifts, and flew away again as swans; and Oswith never lies. Were they Valkyrie?" Alca answered that "it was given to some to behold these mysteries, and to understand the truth that lies concealed in them, but to others it was not given." They were now approaching the gate of Stillingfleet as the sun set, the faithful dog Shuprak bounded out to meet them, and the conversation turned to trivial subjects as they entered the court.

Some days afterwards the three boys, Hereric, Coelred, and Porlor, with their dog Shuprak, set out for the burg of the Hemingas, to join their friend Oswith, the son of Guthlaf, on a hunting expedition. They wore cross–gartered hose, and belts with metal buckles, from which long hunting–knives were suspended; bows and arrows were slung on their backs, and the little fellows also carried short iron–headed spears. For several miles they made their way through the dense forest, until they emerged on Skipwith Common, where the ruins of an abandoned town of the Parisi, consisting of circular huts, still showed many traces. It was a weird and desolate place even in bright sunshine, and Porlor whispered to his companions tales of grey old wood–folk clothed in moss, of dwarfs and giants, and of the lubber fiend, as they hurried across the moor, and again plunged into the forest. They went swiftly over the ground, and soon reached the clearings and the fortified burg of the Hemingas, at the junction of the rivers Ouse and Derwent. Here there was a ruined fort built by the Romans, which had been repaired with timber, and was the home of Guthlaf, the chief of the Hemingas. His son Oswith was the same age as Coelred, straight as a dart, broad–chested and lean–flanked—a splendid specimen of a young Englishman. He was a fast friend of the sons of Seomel, and, after warm words of welcome, their first act was to challenge each other to fight. A wrestling–match at once commenced on the green, and the lithe and sinewy figures of Coelred and Oswith were soon entwined, as they strove, with every muscle at extreme tension, to throw each other to the ground. Each boy won a bout, which made them quite happy, and the four lads, after a merry meal, set out on their search for forest game, working northwards again towards the home of Seomel.

"Nature was an open book to these lads of the far–distant past. They lived in nearer communion than we can do with the world around them. Their frames, not yet clogged and vitiated by the habits of an advanced civilisation, were more alive than ours to the external effects of natural causes. The birds spoke to them, the forest whispered to them, the wind wantoned with their curly locks, they stood before the great spirit of nature face to face, and knew him as he revealed himself in every one of his divine forms." Loaded with as much game as they could carry, after a very successful and very happy day, they were walking in single file through the tangled underwood, when Oswith, their leader, saw the eyes of a huge wild–cat glaring at him through the dense foliage. It sprang up a tree, and in an instant he had thrown down his burden and was after it, with his long knife in his mouth. When, at a considerable height, he was swinging himself forward to attack his antagonist, which was at bay, the bough broke and he fell heavily to the ground. His comrades found him suffering intense pain, unable to stand, and with a very badly sprained ankle. Abandoning the spoils of the chase, Coelred and Porlor began to carry him, but they were still several miles from Stillingfleet. Hereric ran forward for help, and when it came the sturdy little fellows had already carried their friend upwards of three miles. Oswith was soon lying on a heap of fresh straw in Seomel's hall. His hose and shoes were removed, and it was found that the ankle was much swollen, so that there was every prospect of days and even weeks elapsing before he would be able to walk.

As soon as Coelred had seen that everything that was possible had been done for his friend, he sought his mother's bower, and throwing himself at the feet of Alca, he besought her to show favour to the son of Guthlaf. "Indeed," replied the Princess, "I will do what I can for my young friend Oswith." She went into the hall, patted the boy's head, and spoke cheering words to him, with her eyes fixed on his until she thought her spell would work. Then she removed the bandage, placed her hand very gently on the swelling, and uttered it, as follows:—

Ben zi Bena,
Bluot zi Bluode,
Lid zi Geliden,
Sôse gelimida sin.
Thu biguolen Wodin,
So he wola coude,
Sôse ben–renki,
Sôse bluot–renki,
Sôse lidere–renki.

Volisia stood by her side, ready to administer a sleeping–draught, and next morning Oswith was quite healed, and able to walk and run as well as ever. As soon as she saw that the spell was working, Alca went out to the ash tree in the courtyard and prayed to the Æsir on her knees, several groups of people watching her with awe. When she rose and looked round, Coifi came forward with a low obeisance. The gleeman was an adept in the Teutonic religious beliefs, and was versed in all the tales and traditions of the mythology of his people. But he looked upon them solely from a practical point of view. He received every supernatural story literally. To him Woden and Thor were the wooden images preserved at Godmundham, and he sought for no further light. Alca, even in extreme youth, was visionary in her religious views. The All–father, as she understood him, was everywhere and pervaded everything. The gods and goddesses were his attributes, or represented his intentions and designs, as she had explained to the children on the day of the pilgrimage to Nehalennia's shrine.

"The spell will not work, I fear, O daughter of the King," said Coifi, who was then a man between thirty and forty, and known in every burg and hall as the best gleeman in Deira. "The spell will work, Coifi," replied Alca in a gentle voice. After a pause the gleeman said almost in a whisper, "I know the spell of Balder's horse that you used for young Oswith. I think I know every spell, but they will not work for me. I pray and sacrifice to the gods, but they help me not. Let them give me power and I can believe them. I believe when I see." Alca looked at him and said, "I am too young to teach so learned a man as Coifi. But I can say why the spell will work. The boy loved me and believed. I love the gods and have faith, so the spell will work." Coifi replied, "But I cannot believe until I see the spell work. If the spell works I believe." "That is the wrong way, Coifi," said the Princess. "Believe and the spell works; for it works by faith. Wait until the spell works before you can believe, and it will never work." Puzzled and angry, Coifi declared that he would serve the gods and pray to them for his lifetime, and they must answer him and give him power; but that to believe before they showed him their mighty works was impossible. Alca shook her head. She said no more, but she saw that insight was not given to Coifi.

As she stood by the side of the gleeman, with Coelred and Porlor watching her from the hall entrance, and with many people in the courtyard, her aspect suddenly changed. She assumed a listening attitude and then looked upwards. "The Valkyrie pass through the air," she cried. "I neither see nor hear," said Coifi; "it cannot be." All gazed in amazement for several minutes. "A great battle is joined. The heroes fall," was the next exclamation of the Princess. She stood like one inspired. "Coelred! Coelred! run to my eame the Atheling and to your father; tell them to arm and to assemble all their forces, for the enemy approaches. Coifi, go thou to alarm the people. Bid them to assemble armed and ready to march." Coelred was off like an arrow from a bow. Coifi also obeyed. The alarm–horns were heard in the valley. In half an hour the Stillingas were drawn up fully armed outside the hedge. Elfric and Seomel, also fully armed, had entered the enclosure and asked eagerly for the cause of the alarm. Alca was still standing under the ash tree. All eyes were turned on her. The setting sun threw a glow of light over her form. "I hear the rapid feet of the messenger," she said, raising one arm. "You will hear him and act quickly. He comes—make way for him." A lane was formed, and between the two lines of warriors a little boy ran breathless into the court, and sank exhausted on the ground. "It is Forthere, the son of Brand of Ulfskelf," exclaimed Seomel. "Speak, boy! speak quickly—what are your tidings."

The gallant little fellow had swum across the river. As soon as he recovered breath he delivered his message. The settlement at Bilbrough had been suddenly attacked and taken by an overwhelming force of Britons from Elmet, led by their king Certicus. After a short fight the slaughter began. Vidfinn, the chief of the Billingas, was slain, and most of his people were massacred. Neither age nor sex was spared. A young woman with little Sivel, the child of Vidfinn, brought the news to Ulfskelf. But there was scarcely breathing–time before the enemy appeared, their numbers vastly increased; Ulfskelf was surrounded, and Brand resolved to defend it to the last gasp. A desperate fight took place outside, but the overwhelming numbers of the enemy soon obliged him to retreat behind his palisades. Forthere had escaped by creeping along the margin of the Wharfe. He then swam across the Ouse, and so brought the tidings to Stillingfleet.

Elfric and his leading men assembled under the ash tree and issued orders. It was a bright moonlight night. A party had already been sent off to prepare the boats for crossing the Ouse. Mounted messengers were despatched to Cuthred, chief of the Poclingas beyond the Derwent, to Sigfrid of the Elfingas, to Guthlaf of the Hemingas, to Ingeld of the Heslingas, calling upon them to march with all despatch and meet Elfric the Atheling at Acaster. The first object was to save Ulfskelf, if Brand could hold out so long. Elfric was despatching another messenger to the King, who was at Aldby, with a similar request. But Alca spoke once more. She advised that King Ella should be asked to cross the Ouse with his fighting men, above York, advance along the high land by the hill of Severus and the ridge of Askham, and so take the enemy in flank; while Elfric with his levies, raised between Ouse and Derwent, opposed their further advance.

Stillingfleet was no longer safe. It was arranged that next morning the Princess Alca and the Lady Volisia, escorted by Coifi and the boys, with a few attendants, should take refuge at Aldby. Meanwhile Elfric and Seomel, with the Stillingas and the Atheling's own followers, crossed the Ouse and began to entrench themselves at Acaster in the early hours of the night. When the reinforcements arrived next day, they would boldly advance to the relief of Ulfskelf.

CHAPTER III

ALDBY

The escort of the Princess, of Volisia, and the children left Stillingfleet next morning. In the van rode the older boys, Oswith, Coelred, and Forthere, all three well armed, followed by the two ladies, the children, and attendants, while Coifi, with the two younger boys, Porlor and Hereric, brought up the rear. "The gleeman is to be a priest of Woden," said Porlor to his friend, "to whom it is not permitted to carry arms. The defence of the rear depends upon us, so we must be on our guard." All the lads had arms suited to their size, but none of them were yet old enough to wear swords.

After a mile's ride through the forest, they came to open moorland where there was an outlying stockaded post of the Stillingas, afterwards called Moreby; and here they met the Heslingas, led by the veteran Ingeld, to whom the Princess gave fuller information than had been brought by the messenger, and he pushed rapidly onwards with his men, to join the Atheling. Riding on over moor and through forest, the ladies and their escort, after some hours, reached the banks of the bright river Derwent, where tall ash trees threw shadows over its surface, which was skimmed by water–hens, while now and then the brilliant plumage of the kingfisher glistened under the sun's rays as it darted to its galleried nest in the bank. Soon the party came in sight of Aldby, the royal seat of the kings of Deira, on a slight eminence above the right bank of the river, the buildings appearing amongst clumps of tall trees.

The Roman station of Derventio, on the Derwent, was twelve miles east of York. When the English arrived, the buildings had been much injured by invaders from the north, and by more than a century of neglect. They were in a ruinous condition, but they were still standing; and they received the name of Aldby, or the ancient town, from the new–comers. The prætorium, repaired in many places with timber, still had a portico composed of pillars with composite capitals, and formed the guest–hall of the King of Deira. A villa, consisting of rooms built round three sides of a square, with corridors, and a temple, were also included in the Deiran palace. The walls of the guest–hall were adorned with tapestry representing mythical beings from the Teutonic mythology, and the floor retained its mosaic pavement. Although the boards or tables were on movable trestles, there were fixed sideboards, with bowls of bronze highly gilt and of very elegant forms, metal dishes, and horns, while a raised dais with a throne at one end gave some appearance of regal dignity to the spacious hall.

King Ella had marched away with a large force, but its place had been taken by warriors from Driffield and from Godmundham, and Aldby still had the busy appearance of a royal abode, with yards and halls crowded with armed men, priests, and servants. The fugitives were cordially received by Ella's queen, the stepmother of the Princess Alca, whose name is not recorded in history. She had recently given birth to a son, who had received the name of Edwin, a child of destiny, round whose life–story the events of this narrative will eventually centre. The children were all eager to pay their respects to the young Atheling, the hope of the house of Deira, and Alca led them into the presence of the infant prince.

There was much anxiety for several days, but at last the news came that Elfric had relieved Ulfskelf and defeated the numerous but ill–disciplined army of Britons. Their chief Certicus and his levies commenced a retreat which the King converted into a rout when he fell upon their right flank in the swampy ground between Askham and Bilbrough. Ella and his brother then formed a junction round the hill, now called Ingrish, and again fell furiously upon the disorganised rabble. Certicus, with a small following, escaped into the forests of Elmet, but there was tremendous slaughter, and the place is called Helagh to this day. The English outposts were again extended to the old Roman station of Calcaria, on the south side of the river Wharfe, facing the ford of Nehalennia. The King also restored the burg of the Billingas, and all due honours were paid to the remains of the chief Vidfinn, who had been a daring Viking before he established himself at Bilbrough with his children Hjuk and Bil. Nine votive boats of pure gold were deposited in his grave, and a lofty tumulus was raised above it, on the slope of the red sandstone hill which rises gradually from the Roman road between York and Tadcaster. Little Sivel, the only surviving child of Vidfinn, was adopted by Brand of Ulfskelf. A nephew of Vidfinn, named Saebald, surnamed Fairfax from his silver–white hair, was elected to command the Billingas and to defend the restored settlement of Bilbrough.

These administrative arrangements occupied some time, during which the lads at Aldby hunted in the forests between the Derwent and the foot of the Wolds, sometimes pursuing their game far into the chalky hills, and often ascending Garraby, which rises to a height of nearly 800 feet above Aldby. Their evenings were passed in games with their sisters, or in conversations with Alca, varied by listening to the wondrous tales of Coifi or to the folk–lore of another race preserved in the memory of their mother Volisia.

One day the five boys went with Coifi to Godmundham to visit the temple which contains the sacred images brought from the old home on the continent. A space was encircled by a quickset hedge, and within there were three lofty elms, under which the idols were set up. Hard by were the ruins of the Roman station of Delgovitia, some of the buildings having been roughly repaired to serve as dwellings for priests and servants. Coifi localised his beliefs. According to his creed, Woden and Thor were within this enclosure at Godmundham, or at all events he held that this was their favourite home, where worshippers must seek their help, and where priests must observe all the ceremonies connected with their cult. He told the boys the history of the creation, and all the strange legends which had gathered round it; and he narrated the myth of Balder's death and of Freyr's love for Gerdr. He attended the sacrifices of bullocks, and remained long at his devotions. But he never could derive either power or inspiration from his prayers to the gods, and he rose from them with an expression of discontent and impatience. The boys were glad to return to Aldby, dissatisfied also, and eager for some more sympathetic teaching. This they found in the Princess Alca, who to them was the type of perfect beauty and goodness.

PRINCESS ALCA TELLING STORIES TO THE BOYS

They had attended her on an excursion to the foot of the Wolds, and rested on a rising ground under the spreading branches of a tall ash tree, with Aldby in sight beyond the river, and a mass of waving foliage at their feet. The sun was still high, the stillness only broken by the songs of birds. Alca sat on one of the projecting roots. The boys were lying down at her feet, surrounded by leaves and flowers, which they had been collecting to decorate her bower. Porlor broke the silence by asking the Princess to teach them the story of Balder, and its meaning. "Porlor," she said, "was right to be the spokesman, for his name should make him a student of Balder's lore. But I see by your eyes," she added, "that you all wish me to talk to you of the Son of God. Listen, then, to one who seeks, though with little help and in twilight, to learn and to show to others the true meaning of hidden mysteries. Balder was the son of the All–father, of the Creator of gods and men. He was the god of light, and grace, and manly beauty. His brow was white as the chamomile flower. Through him deeds of true bravery were done on the earth, the weak were protected, virtue was practised, and justice was maintained. But a prophecy that Balder would perish afflicted the gods. Then Frigga, the spouse of Woden, took an oath from all created nature that no individual thing would harm the pride of Asgard, the beloved of gods and men. But the goddess made a fatal omission. She forgot a sprig of mistletoe. Being invulnerable, Balder allowed the gods to use him as a target. Now Loki, as you know, was born among the yotuns. He was false and full of wickedness, father of the terrible wolf Fenris and of Hela, ruler of the dead. Loki put mistletoe into the hands of the blind god Haudr, and with this he slew the best and greatest of Woden's sons, who descended into hell. The All–father himself went down into the dark abode of Hela, to persuade her to relinquish her prey. She agreed, if all created nature would weep for Balder. All nature did mourn for the loss of the god of goodness and beauty, save one old crone. 'What have the gods done for me,' she said, 'that I should weep for Balder? Let Hela keep her dead.' Thus Balder's fate was sealed, and with it the fate of the world; for justice, mercy, virtue, and true bravery ceased to prevail with Balder's death, though they did not entirely cease to exist. I know not why the All–father, in his wisdom, has submitted to this evil. But it can only be for a time. The Son of God will rise again in triumph. I sometimes think that he has risen, though as yet we know it not." Then the far–off look came again into Alca's blue eyes, and during the rest of her speech she gazed into the heavens. The boys listened almost breathless.

"I think that God has risen to redeem the world," she resumed. "I am impelled to this belief, though I know not why, or by what guiding power. But misfortune and sorrow will not end—not yet. Coelred, Hereric, Oswith, Forthere, Porlor, I love you as very dear brothers. It is perhaps by reason of my love that insight is given to me. There is borne into my mind a feeling that some great calamity is impending over you all, and that it will fall upon you together. In this there is a ray of comfort." She paused, and Coelred said, "If misfortune overtakes us, O Princess, we will strive to meet it as Englishmen, as sons of our brave fathers, ever victorious in battle!" "And," said Oswith, "in all our troubles we will ever remember the goodness of our beloved Princess." Forthere spoke words like those of Coelred, which were echoed by the younger boys.

"Of that I am certain," continued Alca. "You will quit yourselves like men—above all, like Englishmen. If you are together in your trials, Coelred will be your leader. The fearless Oswith will be your support, and will help to form your plans. Forthere, too, will be a trusty friend. Porlor will be most shrewd as an adviser, and his rede should be followed; and my sweet cousin Hereric will enlighten counsels by his imagination. O my boys! remember that if sorrow comes, Alca is praying for you and thinking of you. Always act as if the Son of God had risen. Be brave. Love one another. Love truth. Be just and merciful. If you hear that God has truly risen, then remember my words. Be true to yourselves, and you will triumph in the end. May the gods watch over you!"

There was a long silence. Alca rose and turned homewards, surrounded by the boys with their sweet burdens. Anxious to turn their thoughts from the solemn and depressing theme on which she had been led to dwell for a time, by a force beyond her control, the Princess sang them a merry song, and talked to them of the return of their victorious fathers, which was expected on the following day. When the party reached Aldby all were chatting and romping, and the boys turned into an inner court to exercise themselves in feats of strength.

Next day the King arrived. Ella was a large man, like his brother, but he looked much older, worn with illness, and his expression was melancholy and somewhat stern. Elfric rode by his side, Seomel, Guthlaf, Brand, and the other chiefs followed, and there was a goodly array of English warriors. They dismounted at the Roman colonnade, and were soon surrounded by wives and children. The great feast that night in the old prætorium was ordered and arranged like that of Seomel, but on a much larger and more regal scale. The Queen herself took round the mead–cup to the guests, and when she retired there were songs of victory, and the harp was passed from one to another. One warrior had recited the events of the campaign, and received great applause. Another told of the surprise of the Billingas by the cruel and treacherous Certicus. Late in the evening Coifi took the harp, and selected for his song the warning of Hrothgar to Beowulf on the frail tenure of human life. This choice was resented by some of those present as being intended to have reference to the King; but Ella himself approved, and the gleeman continued as follows:—

Soon will it be
That sickness or the sword
Shall part thee from power;
Or clutch of fire,
Or wave of flood,
Or gripe of sword,
Or javelin's flight,
Or ugly age,
Or glance of eye
Shall oppress and darken thee.

This melancholy dirge concluded the feast, and before another year had passed King Ella was in his grave.

The time of parting came only too soon. The Lady Volisia, with her daughters and the children of Elfric, returned to Stillingfleet. The Atheling himself, with Seomel, proceeded to York to make further preparations for strengthening the frontier posts, and it was arranged that Seomel should go thence, with supplies of weapons and stores, to Bilbrough, Calcaria, and Ulfskelf, before returning home. He was to take a large escort of Stillingas, and, to their great joy, the three elder boys and Porlor were to accompany him.

The Atheling and those who were to go with him to York took leave of the King and Queen. But when the boys came to say farewell to the Princess Alca their hearts were too full for words, and tears were in their eyes. They loved and worshipped her, they would all have died for her, but not a word could they say. She spoke very gently and calmly, repeating what she had said yesterday. "Remember my words. Be true to yourselves, and may the gods watch over you."

After the cavalcade started, the boys looked back again and again, waving their caps, until the graceful form under the colonnade was lost to sight. When would they see her again? Ah, when!

CHAPTER IV

YORK AND THE DEIRAN FRONTIER

Aberach, the British mound by the confluence of Ouse and Foss, was converted into the Roman camp of Eburacum by Agricola in A.D. 79, and from a camp became an imperial city, and the headquarters of the 6th Legion for nearly three centuries. The camp was surrounded by a ditch 9 feet deep and 32 wide, with an agger or rampart fortified by valli. The sides were 692 yards long, with four gates, and there was a space of about a hundred yards between the ditch and the river Ouse. But in A.D. 120 the Emperor Hadrian caused the valli to be replaced by substantial walls of alternate layers of bricks and masonry, with towers at the angles. The multangular tower at the north–west is still standing. The prætorium was converted into an imperial palace, and stood on the ground now occupied by gardens on the south–east side of Goodramgate, and by Aldwark and Peterna. A temple of Bellona stood on the site of part of St. Mary's Abbey and the manor. Hyeronimianus of the 6th Legion had dedicated a temple to Serapis on the site of Fryar's Garden, and there was an artificial cave for the worship of Mithras on a site in Micklegate, opposite St. Martin's Church. The sites of other temples and theatres, which must have existed, are now unknown. The dense forest of Galtres came close up to the Prætorian gate, whence a road led to Isurium, and the Decumanian gate was in the centre of the opposite wall.

When the English arrived the 6th Legion had been gone for upwards of a century and a half, the place had been frequently pillaged, the walls were broken down in several places, and the beautiful Roman edifices were in ruins. King Ella had repaired the breaches in the walls with strong palisades, and his brother Elfric had made a portion of the imperial palace habitable.

Seomel and the four boys were the guests of the Atheling for a few days, while weapons were collected and got ready for the use of the outposts beyond the Wharfe. The boys wandered about among the ruins, and gazed upon the porticoes and colonnades with awe and admiration. It was then that they first heard of the great emperors of Rome and of the Legions, and they understood dimly that their own people were only beginning to build up a new empire on the ruins of a glorious past. One day they had crossed the river Ouse to see the tombs which lined both sides of the Roman road leading to the south. Many were broken down, but some were still standing, especially on the higher ground. There was a beautiful monument on the Mount, where a youth and a maiden had been buried, for their figures were carved in relief on the stone, but of course the boys could not read the inscription. Here they rested, gazing over the swampy expanse of Knavesmire, and Porlor fancied that the two figures represented lovers who had been cut off in the flower of their youth. They were worshippers of Nehalennia; for a deity, like the one at Appleton, was carved in the semicircular space over their heads.

In running down the slope towards the river, the boys stopped at the entrance of the cave of Mithras, and entered with feelings of curiosity mingled with awe. In the dim light they could see a bull on its knees, and a young man plunging a knife into its neck. "What can it mean? Is it a priest sacrificing a bullock to Woden?" said Oswith. "That cannot be," objected Coelred, "for the images were not made by our people, nor do we make images of the sacrificers but of the gods, and those only at Godmundham." Porlor sat long gazing at the fine bas–relief, on which a few rays from the sun cast a dim light. "The being with a high cap," he said, "is a god, not a man. I see by his face that he is a good god." His companions looked again more closely. "The god is plunging a knife into the bull, but it is not to do harm but good, for he is a good god." He again sat thinking. "It is a mystery," he said at last, "and we are too ignorant to solve it." "Alca would understand," said the other boys. They walked down to the river, and, crossing it, returned to the "Aldwark," as the ruined palace was then called.

Next day Seomel left York with a number of laden horses, and a strong force as an escort. The four boys were with him. Again they passed the mysterious cave of Mithras, and the monument of the two lovers on the Mount, as they wended their way southward along the Roman road. These Roman roads in Britain were so admirably constructed that, although they had been neglected for more than a century, they were still serviceable. The mode of construction was as follows:—Two parallel furrows were dug to mark the width, and all loose earth was removed down to the rock. The first layer for the road was called the pavimentum. On it was laid a bed of small squared stones called statumen. The next layer consisted of a mass of small stones broken to pieces and mixed with lime, called rudus or ruderatio. The third layer, called nucleus, was a mixture of lime, chalk, broken tiles, all beaten together. On this was laid the summum dorsum or pavement of stones, sometimes like our paving–stones, but oftener of square flagstones. At proper intervals there were stations for changing horses, called mutationes, supplied with horses and veredarii or postilions, and in charge of stationmasters called statores. The miliaria or milestones were perfect stone cylinders about 3½ feet high, on bases.

The arrangements for travelling were out of gear, and most of the mutationes were in ruins or had been destroyed when King Ella reigned. But the splendid road was so admirably constructed that it was still efficient. Seomel had been delayed, and had not started until nearly sunset, but he made the best of his way, and reached the dwelling of Saebald the Fairfax, chief of the Billingas, long before dark. Here the night was to be passed. It was here that Saebald's predecessor had dwelt, and here the old warrior had been surprised by the Britons and killed. The place is now called Street Houses. The house was one of the mutationes of the Roman road, to which some wooden buildings had been added. But it was exposed, and it was the intention of Saebald to remove his people to a stockaded burg on the summit of what was afterwards called Ingrish Hill, about a mile to the westward of the road. Saebald received his guests with much cordiality, and after supper he was quite willing to satisfy the eager curiosity of the boys about the life and death of the Viking chief Vidfinn, and about the strange fate of his children, rumours of which had reached them.

The hall of the Billingas was lighted with torches, and after some conversation with Seomel touching the defences and the supply of weapons, the good–natured Saebald turned to the boys and began his tale. "Vidfinn," he said, "was a mighty sea–rover, and like Brand, his brother, a stanch follower of the Eolderman Iffi, father of our king. When the English first advanced beyond the Ouse they were led by Brand and Vidfinn, and Vidfinn eventually formed this frontier station beyond the road, where he and his followers settled. He brought two children, a boy and a girl, with him, named Hjuk and Bil, to whom he was devoted. He called his burg after the girl, Bilbrough, and his people hence were called Billingas. It so happened that the spring beside his dwelling on the road was fouled by cattle, and for a time they had to use the water from a well called Byrgir, about half a mile up the hill. One day Hjuk and Bil went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. They took a pole named Simul, on which they slung the bucket Saeg, and away they went, Bil in front and Hjuk behind, talking and laughing so that the people heard them and thought no harm. But they never returned." The boys had listened eagerly, and Oswith now asked if search was made for the lost children. "Yes, indeed," answered Saebald. "The pole Simul and the bucket Saeg were found lying near the well Byrgir in such a position as to make people think that Hjuk must have fallen down, and that Bil must have come tumbling after. But they were both gone. Search was made in all directions and continued long, but with no result. Vidfinn was wild with grief. At length, in gazing at Mani, who, as you know, is seen on the face of the moon and directs its course, Vidfinn thought he saw two children behind him, and he became convinced that Mani had taken Hjuk and Bil up from the earth as they were coming from the well. They help Mani by presiding over the tides of the ocean, it is thought: Hjuk looks after the flow, while Bil directs the ebb, and both together send the long high wave up the rivers, which you boys must often have seen, and which is named after the god Ægir."

When Saebald paused, the boys ran out into the road and gazed at the moon. They then saw, what they had never before observed, that there really were two children behind Mani. Astonished and intensely interested, they returned and entreated Saebald to tell them the rest of the story of Vidfinn. The fair–haired chief of the Billingas said that little remained to tell, and before beginning he showed the boys the pole Simul and the bucket Saeg, which hung on the carved door–post of the hall, and had escaped attention from the Britons. "When Vidfinn had satisfied himself that his beloved children were safe in the hands of Mani," resumed Saebald, "he was consoled, and ten years ago he took another wife, a daughter of one of the Billingas, and had a son named Sivel, but the mother died. Peace had continued so long that the old Viking was off his guard and completely taken by surprise when his burg was attacked at the dead of night by the army of the Britons. He sent little Sivel away with a girl, and they escaped to Ulfskelf. Vidfinn then defended his home desperately, with his Billingas, and at length he fell amidst a heap of slain. He was amply avenged by the King and his brave warriors, and a worthy tumulus has been raised to the memory of the founder of Bilbrough. My father was Beorn, another of his brothers," concluded the Fairfax, "and as his successor, in the minority of Sivel, I am proud to be the host of the valiant Seomel and his knights" (cnihts or boys). By this time the eyes of the four boys were heavy, and they no sooner threw themselves on their heaps of fresh straw in the hall than they were all fast asleep.

At dawn the two chiefs, Seomel and Saebald, went up to the Ingrish Hill to inspect the progress of the stockade and to serve out weapons to the Billingas, and on the way the boys were shown the tumulus of Vidfinn, and, a little farther on, the deep well Byrgir. The tumulus had been raised on the very spot where the bucket Saeg and the pole Simul were found in the grass, so that it is a monument both to the Viking father and to the children kidnapped by Mani.

Taking their leave of the hospitable lord of Bilbrough, Seomel and the boys rode down the Roman road and came to the great battle–field of Helagh. Seomel showed them the place where the enemy's slain were buried, which is called "Hell Hole" to this day. They then went on to the river Wharfe, and crossed by the ford of Nehalennia to the old Roman station of Calcaria, where a strong English outpost was established. Seomel went a mile or two down the river, and fixed upon a hill called Kele–bor for another military station, to guard against sudden incursions from Elmet; while the boys wandered up the stream to a limestone crag. Here the water was deliciously cool and clear, so different from the muddy floods of Wharfe and Ouse, lower down. They stripped and plunged into it, and after their bath they went to the famous shrine of their mother's goddess Nehalennia at Calcaria. Here, in the midst of the white limestone country, the guardian deity of chalk workers and of fruit trees received highest honour. Here too, among her favourite white rocks, she lavished her favours most abundantly among the fruit orchards, and even now the real wine–sour plum will only grow on the Brotherton lime, and in the Sherburn district. Crossing the ford once more, and riding along the banks of the Wharfe, the little party was very hospitably welcomed at Ulfskelf by the grand old warrior Brand and his wife Verbeia, a sister of the Lady Volisia. Here Coelred and Porlor made the acquaintance of the little Sivel, a bright intelligent child, in whom the strange story told them by Saebald had made them feel a deep interest. Taking leave of their cousin Forthere and of Sivel at Ulfskelf next morning, and of Oswith, who rode on to Hemingborough, Seomel and his two sons arrived at their home. Here they found the Lady Volisia with the children of Elfric—Hereric, Bergliot, and Osric—her own daughters Braga and Nanna, and the dog Shuprak. Thus once more was the happy and united family assembled in the hall of Stillingfleet, with peace fully restored, and all fear of danger vanished. How fortunate it is that it is not given to any of us to know, and to few of us to foreshadow, what a week or a month may bring forth.

CHAPTER V

KIDNAPPED

"I feel the Berserker rage flowing through me, and arousing the desire to fight and to kill." It was Hereric who spoke, and he ended his strange words with a wild shout. "You, Hereric!" exclaimed Porlor; "why, you are the gentlest of us all, though no niddring. How strange that you should be so taken! Yet I have heard Coifi say that the hour when the sacred rage inflames us no man knows, but that it should never be resisted. When it comes, he told me, we must kill and kill." He raised another shout, which was echoed by Hereric and Coelred. "Lead us to the attack of savage beasts ten times our size," said Porlor to Coelred, whose eyes were also sparkling with excitement. "That will I," shouted the elder boy; "I will fight any one ten times my size," and he threw his arms over his head. The three boys had just been having their morning bath, and were sitting and lying on the grass, with their feet in the water of the brook, which rippled over the stones.

It was early morning, and they were to take Bergliot with them into the woods. When they ran home to get their arms, the young princess was waiting at the gate. In a few minutes they joined her, with hosen cross–girt, knives at their sides, and spears in their hands. "We are full of Berserker rage," they told her. "You are full of naughtiness" (the word she used was hinderscype), she answered, "and will be whipped." Yet their excitement was contagious, for she ran back into the hall and returned with a short spear and Shuprak at her heels. All four then ran wildly down the hill and over the brook, shouting and brandishing their spears, with the dog running and barking in front. Startled by the noise, the Lady Volisia came to the gate, and watched them, with anxious eyes, until they were hidden by the trees. Then tears trickled down her cheeks. She never saw the boys again. The wild young creatures made a great circuit in the forest, hurling their spears at everything, and running at speed until they came to the willow thicket where the Stillingfleet brook empties itself into the river Ouse. Here they paused to regain their breath.

Presently Bergliot, in looking through the leafy branches of the willows at the surface of the water, saw, sitting on a tree trunk on the edge of the bank, what she thought was a nixy or water sprite. It was singing, she fancied, but the sound was scarcely audible. "There is a nixy," she said in a whisper to the rest, pointing to where it sat. "Let us kill it," said Hereric. They all ran forward; the boys pushed the little creature into the rushing stream with the butt ends of their spears, while the girl threw a needle at it, which is supposed to be fatal to such sprites. Then they all sang the cruel spell and ran away:—

Nix, Nix—needle in water,
Virgin casteth steel in water
Thou sink and we flee.

As they ran they could hear a long wailing cry, and when they stopped out of breath it appeared to all of them to form itself into these ominous words:—

Dreadful your doom,
Slaves shall ye be,
Kindred and home
Never to see.

They looked at each other half–frightened, and Bergliot began to cry. She said she wanted to go home. The boys embraced her tenderly and kissed her, and Coelred told Shuprak to see her safe back. As she turned away she asked them to tell Oswith, if they saw him, that she hoped he would come to visit her very soon. She waved a farewell to them with her hand. Reluctantly, and after casting many longing glances at his young masters, the dog went home with the little girl. "Let us defy the omen," said Coelred: "let us go further afield to satiate our Berserker rage," and all three again plunged into the forest. They ran for hours, hurling their spears at every creature that came in sight. At length, on emerging from the forest into the heathy expanse of Skipwith Common, they paused for a moment to look round. Close by there was a huge wild bull of a dun colour, with spreading horns, and three cows. Coelred uttered a triumphant cry and hurled his spear at the bull's shoulder. In a moment the ferocious creature was upon him, threw him down amongst the heather, and would have gored and crushed him, if Porlor had not diverted its attention by driving his spear into its flank. It turned round foaming with rage just as Porlor sprang behind a tree and Hereric faced it on one knee with his spear pointed. Wild with rage, it dashed in his direction, then halted with its head up, its eyes glaring, and foam dropping from its mouth. Coelred had been stunned for a minute. He now ran up and attacked the bull in the flank, prodding it with his spear. Daunted by the vigour of the attack, the bull now galloped across the common, followed by the cows. The boys gave chase, shouting and brandishing their weapons, coming up with their antagonist amidst dense underwood, where they succeeded in killing it with their spears. As the noble creature fell there was a downpour of rain and a loud clap of thunder, and amidst the peals the boys thought they again heard the ominous curse of the nixy:—

Dreadful your doom,
Slaves shall ye be,
Kindred and home
Never to see.

They dashed wildly on, they knew not whither. Porlor started a wild–cat, which sprang up a tree. He followed with marvellous agility. The chase turned fiercely at bay, and Coelred climbed up the tree to help. There was a desperate fight among the branches, and the boys got some nasty scratches, but at last one of them plunged a knife into the cat, it lost its hold, and fell to the ground. Meanwhile Hereric had roused a badger from its hole and kept it at bay with his spear. Its mouth was open and its rows of sharp teeth glistened. It would have gone hard with the Atheling if Coelred had not sprung upon it from behind and plunged his knife into a vital part. Once more the three boys resumed their wild career, with the ominous words of the nixy ringing in their ears. The sun was low when they emerged from the forest and came out on the banks of the muddy Ouse just at the point where the Wharfe joins it. They were now exhausted and hungry, so tired indeed that they could run no more without rest. They were unhappy too, and frightened at the sounds which seemed to form themselves into such dreadful words. The three boys threw themselves on the grass, and in a minute they were fast asleep.

They had not seen a long black boat, like some foul snake, creeping stealthily down the Wharfe to its confluence. It was flat–bottomed and of unusual beam, but low in the water. The crew consisted of half a dozen villainous–looking ruffians, sent by a vessel anchored at the mouth of the Humber to Calcaria on pretence of selling some cloths, and the return cargo was to be stolen. They were sea–thieves and cut–throats. As they descended the Wharfe they saw Forthere and Sivel fishing on the bank and suspecting no evil. Four of them sprang on shore, and in a minute the lads were bound hand and foot, gagged, and thrown into the bottom of the boat. A few minutes afterwards they came in sight of the confluence, just in time to see Coelred, Porlor, and Hereric throw themselves on the grass by the opposite shore. Very stealthily the boat was brought under the bank. Coelred and Hereric were overpowered and bound before they were half awake. Porlor, however, was aroused by the footsteps. He had time to draw his knife and make a desperate resistance, gashing the arm of one ruffian and stabbing another in the hand. But he was quickly overpowered. His two companions were thrown into the bottom of the boat, where, to their horror and astonishment, they found Forthere and little Sivel in like plight. Porlor was put across a thwart and given an unmerciful beating with a thong of leather, which, in the dialect of the cut–throats, was called a lorum. His young friends were nearly mad with impotent rage as they heard the ferocious blows being showered on the child's body. At last he was thrown, bruised and bleeding, among the rest; but, bound as they were, they could do nothing to console or help him. It all seemed like a horrible dream; they scarcely knew where they were, and could do nothing but sob as they were roused at intervals from a half–dozing state.

Meanwhile the boat went swiftly down the Ouse with an ebb–tide. The villains kept a sharp look–out on either bank, and, when half a mile above Hemingborough, they saw a boy bathing, and swimming out boldly as the tide had slackened. Thinking no harm, he caught hold of one of the boat's oars to rest. In an instant his wrists were seized, he was bound hand and foot, and thrown into the bottom of the boat with the others. It was Oswith. He was quite naked, and one of the crew threw a coarse cloth over him. The grief of the rest of the kidnapped children was redoubled at the sight of their beloved friend, the fearless son of Guthlaf. He was as little able to understand what had really happened as they were, yet he tried to console them. He whispered that he would look out for chances of escape, and reminded them that at least they had the consolation of being together.

All through the night the boat kept her course down the Humber, with the tide against them during the first watch, but with a fair wind. Off the mouth of the Trent the sea–thieves stopped and made fast, until they were joined by another smaller boat coming down that river, which went alongside and passed another boy on board. In spite of their misery and discomfort, the kidnapped children were fast asleep while the boat was waiting in the mud, and they were aroused by another little boy being thrown amongst them. He said that he was Godric the son of Ulchel, a thegn of the Gainas. He seemed to be as small as Sivel. After a time the seven forlorn children went fast asleep as the boat was rowed down the Humber, and finally came alongside the vessel whose leader had sent the thieves on their kidnapping errand.

This vessel was small, but suited for sea–voyages, and with much more beam than was allowed for an ordinary fighting ship. Her lines were indeed very unlike those of a dragon ship of the Vikings. For she was built primarily for trading, and in the second place for piracy, whenever the opportunity offered, and she had a capacious hold, now half full of merchandise. She was lying off Ravenspur, the site of the Roman station of Prætorium, under the shelter of Y–kill, the Ocellum Promontorium, now Spurn Head. The seven boys were bundled out of the boat and into the ship's hold like so many bales of goods, and the boats were turned adrift. They had been stolen. The vessel then got under weigh and hoisted her single sail, shaping a southerly course, with a strong breeze which soon freshened into a gale. The stolen children nestled together and slept long, for they were quite worn out with anxiety and grief, to which three of them had added a day of intense excitement and fatigue. They awoke quite famished and were given some food, but throughout the voyage the poor children were treated with vile inhumanity, half–starved, and exposed to the seas which washed into the vessel during the gale. They could not have survived many more days of such treatment. Fortunately the wind was fair, and the voyage had been a short though a stormy one, when the piratical thieves anchored in the port of Amfleet. It is not known whence they came nor what land was disgraced by having bred them, nor does it matter. They were paid and employed by a trader with more humanity but as little conscience as themselves.

CHAPTER VI

MYSTACON

Mystacon was the principal trader between Gaul and the northern countries on the one hand, and Italy and the East on the other, during the latter part of the sixth century. He was a Greek, a native of Crete, brought up by a merchant at Massilia, and his life had been devoted to mercantile pursuits, in which his cunning, ability, and absence of all scruples had enabled him to amass wealth, which he sought by every means to increase. In those days Brunehaud, a Gothic princess from Spain, was Regent of the eastern part of France, called Austrasia, her husband, King Sigebert, having been assassinated in 575. Neustria, which included northern and central France, was governed by Queen Fredegonda as Regent to her little son Clotaire II. A handsome woman of low extraction, she had waded through murders and other evil deeds to her lofty position, in which she maintained herself by her strong will. Capable of any crime to gain her objects, courageous and unscrupulous, she must have possessed great ability and astuteness to have been successful in maintaining her power so long in that turbulent age. Her husband, Chilperic I., died by poison administered by his wife in 584, and Fredegonda was Regent from that year until 596. Gontran, the brother of Sigebert and Chilperic, was King of Burgundy. A fourth brother, Charibert, King of Paris, who was father of Bertha, the wife of Ethelbert, King of Kent, died without male issue in 570. These four brothers were the grandsons of Clovis.

The Greek trader, when he found that the fierce nation of the Franks was ruled over by the Queen–Regents, Brunehaud and Fredegonda, hastened to propitiate them by presents, and to secure their patronage. As regards Fredegonda he had been successful. He consulted her wishes, and brought her the luxuries she required both from the north and south, always as free offerings. In return he was under her protection, his goods were to pass unmolested through her dominions, and he was to be assisted by her officers. He had been granted similar privileges by King Gontran of Burgundy, whose country included the shores of the Rhone from Lyons to the sea.

In his northern trade Mystacon employed agents to bring him valuable furs and amber, and even unicorns' horns, from the countries bordering on the Baltic, tin from Cornwall, and occasionally he paid sea–thieves to kidnap young children from the north, who fetched high prices in the markets of Rome and Constantinople. He had a shed at Ambleteuse where he received his northern merchandise, preferring that little port to the neighbouring harbour of Gessoriacum (Boulogne), because a Frankish officer, from whom his gifts had secured him favour and protection, was stationed there with a strong body of disciplined followers.

Mystacon had been several days at Ambleteuse, his merchandise was stored in the shed, and his servants had pack–horses ready to convey it southward along the old Roman road, when the vessel from the Humber anchored off the port and landed its cargo. The crew was composed of such dangerous villains that the merchant induced the Queen–Regent's officer to post armed men behind his shed, before he ventured to confer with them. Besides a pile of beaver skins and other commodities, seven boys were put on shore. They stood on the sandy beach close together, the little ones clinging to the three bigger lads. All were wet through, and looked half–starved and miserable. Porlor and little Godric were clinging to Coelred. Sivel had his arms round Forthere, and Hereric nestled under the sheltering arm of the son of Guthlaf. Oswith the fearless, who was nearly naked, with only a bit of sackcloth round his loins, alone maintained a defiant look. There was no longer any sign or token of Berserker rage among the rest.

The wily Greek came forward to look at them. He saw their great beauty and their value, but he also saw from their appearance that they had been cruelly treated. The sea–thieves demanded the payment he had promised, so much for each. "But they are not in good condition," he remonstrated; "the price must be reduced." A livid mark on Porlor's neck caught his quick, searching eye. He pulled down the boy's shirt, and saw that his back was covered with weals, the effect of the cruel flogging he had received. "Damaged goods," he said. Then, turning to his servants, he told them to take the boys into the shed, and to clothe and feed them. "I will only pay half–price for damaged goods," he repeated, turning to the spokesman of the sea–thieves. "That little wild–cat used his knife on one of us," the man answered, "and the flogging served him right." "What is that to me, my friend?" rejoined Mystacon, in a low but irritating voice. "You can please yourselves about damaging your goods, that is your business, but you cannot expect to get the same price as if they were not damaged. If a heavy bale was to fall and hurt one of you, of course it is open to you to cut and slash it if you please, and it may serve the bale right. That I do not dispute. But you must not expect the same price in the market as if the bale had not been cut and slashed. I can only pay you half–price for the boys." The kidnappers could not follow the subtle argument of the Greek, but they began to look dangerous. The merchant retreated back a few paces. "Pay us what you promised, thou cursed cheat, or we will kill thee and the boys too." He retreated rapidly back and cried out for help, as the villains drew their long knives and rushed towards him. In another minute they were all overpowered and thrown on the ground by the Frankish guard. The officer came forward and suggested capital punishment, offering to hang them in a row. "It is the just and proper treatment," said Mystacon, "of those who try to extort full price for damaged goods from unwary traders. As soon as your laudable proposal has been carried into effect, I shall have pleasure in requesting your lordship to accept the large sum which the criminals refused." Another hour had not passed before twenty bodies were hanging from the branches of the stunted pines round Ambleteuse, and before the Frankish officer had an additional reason for extending his protection to the wily merchant.

Mystacon set out with his train of laden horses and attendants early next morning, following the old Roman road by Amiens, Soissons, and Autun to Lyons. The boys had been warmly clothed and fed, and had slept well, nor were they prevented from having a morning bath in the sea. Two pack–horses were allowed them, so that they could ride by turns, while the rest trotted along on the road–side. They found that they could understand much that was said to them by the servants, and when Mystacon spoke the Frank dialect slowly and clearly, they could comprehend the meaning of nearly every word. For in those days there was little difference between the Frankish and other Teutonic dialects.

The journey across Picardy restored the health and strength, and revived the spirits, of the English lads. This limestone tract, with its keen fresh air, arable surface, and well–watered meadows, reminded them of the country round Calcaria. At Samarobriva, or Amiens, they rested, and Mystacon was allowed to store his goods against the wall of the town, and to encamp there by the Roman gate of the Twins, whereon was carved Romulus and Remus suckled by the wolf. This was the first opportunity the boys had found of collecting their thoughts, and holding a serious consultation. Even now they scarcely understood what had happened or where they were. Their first words, as they sat among the bales, were words of grief at the sorrow and anxiety of their relations, who would search high and low through the woods, until at last they gave them up as dead. "Alca will give them hope and courage," said Coelred. "She will know that we are together, and she knows that we shall return. For we are to die in battle fighting for a righteous cause, and that cannot be anywhere but in England. She is praying now that the gods will watch over us, and her prayers are ever answered." These words, spoken with an air of conviction, comforted the rest. "We must suffer," said Oswith, "but that does not signify when we have such good reason for hope. Porlor has already suffered more than the rest of us." "At that I rejoice," said Porlor, whose little head had been teeming with ideas suggested by Mithras and the bull, ever since he had gazed on the sculpture at York. "Through suffering we shall all win the rewards prepared for the true and brave; and the thong those niddring thieves called lorum is no word of bane to me, but of good luck." "Nay, then," said Hereric, smiling, "we must fasten it to thy name and call thee Porlorlorum." "Let it be so," answered the imaginative child; "it will remind me, and all of us, in the happy years that will surely come when this darkness has been turned to light, that we had to pass through suffering to happiness and home."

They then began to wonder what their position really was, and whither Mystacon was taking them. They had already discovered that he was a cunning liar, and they believed nothing he told them, although he had uniformly treated them with kindness. Forthere proposed to run away, and both Coelred and Oswith were inclined to some plan of making their way across country to the coast, and seizing a boat. But they would not attempt it unarmed. Alca had told them that little Porlor should give them counsel, and they all turned to him. "My rede is that we wait to learn more, and to see what will happen," he said. "I do not fear the distance this man is taking us from home, if we have knowledge. A short distance with ignorance means disaster, perhaps death. A very great distance is easy to go over with knowledge of all the obstacles, and of the way to overcome or avoid them. The wisdom of Alca and her insight will bring comfort to our parents. It is for us to remember her words, to follow them, to wait and watch until the time comes for us to go home. I know the time will come, and the gods will watch over us." "We will wait and watch," they all said. It was now dark. They laid their weary heads down side by side, and passed into a happy sleep. Their dreams were of home and kindred.

The boys had their morning bath in one of the numerous bright little trout streams, bordered by aspen and willow, which flow down to the sands of St. Valery. Later in the morning, as they sat talking near the Gate of the Twins, a monk came out in a long dark–coloured cassock, with a rope round his waist. He was a young man, with a patient look in his grey eyes, and a circlet of thick fair hair round his tonsure. When he saw the lads, he stopped to improve the occasion. He asked them if they knew what had happened at that Gate of the Twins, and he told them the story of St. Martin. "Out of this gate," he said, "long, long ago, a brave and virtuous Roman soldier named Martin rode, on a very frosty winter's day. He had a cloak wrapped closely round him, and as he passed along the causeway he saw a poor man shivering with cold. Martin drew his sword and, cutting his cloak in two, he gave half to the beggar. This was charity, the greatest of all virtues, which covers a multitude of sins. Martin was afterwards baptized in the half cloak, and became a Christian and a Saint." After a pause he asked, "Are you Christians?" Coelred answered that they did not so much as know that there were such people as Christians. "But," he added, "we know very well that it is good to give to those who are in need; for the Princess Alca has taught us." "We know it," said Hereric, "and we try to remember to act as she has taught us, but we are not always able to do right." The hearts of all the boys were warming towards the young monk.

There was a longer pause, and then the monk told them that they must be baptized into the fold of Christ. He raised his voice. "The Son of God went down into hell, but now He has risen from the dead." The boys started to their feet with looks of astonishment and deep interest. These were almost the very words spoken by the Princess Alca, under the ash tree at the foot of Garraby Hill. "Then Alca is right!" they exclaimed. "She is always right. The Son of God has risen." Porlor went on to ask about baptism, when Mystacon came forward. He had been listening to the latter part of the conversation, and did not like it. Concealing his displeasure by a forced smile, he invented a lie on the spur of the moment. "By the order of the Bishop of Noviodunum," he said, addressing the monk, "these Pagan youths are being conducted to his city to be duly instructed and baptized. I thank you for the interest you have taken in them, but your help is not needed." There was nothing more to be said. The good monk gave his blessing to the boys, and went on his way, while Mystacon issued hurried orders for the pack–horses to be loaded, and in another hour he and his merchandise were again journeying southward; but he kept well clear of the city of Noviodunum (Soissons).

The most anxious part of the journey for the merchant was approaching. He was bound to visit the Queen, wherever she might be, both on the way north and south, and she took whatever she fancied without paying. Even this heavy and uncertain tax generally left a wide margin of profit, but it was a source of anxiety, and he now feared that she might take a fancy to the beautiful English boys. Fortune, however, favoured him. Fredegonda was, he had ascertained, at the manor of Braine–sur–la–Vesle, between Soissons and Rheims, but he had also learned that she was on the point of departure. He cunningly timed his arrival on the day that she was to begin her journey, in the hope that she would accept a present, and, in the hurry of starting, forgo her usual practice of rummaging through the whole contents of his caravan. Late on the third evening after leaving Amiens, Mystacon encamped outside the gates of Braine–sur–la–Vesle. This Merovingian palace was an immense farm, with large unfortified wooden houses, stables, barns, and cow–sheds. In the morning the Franks in attendance on the royal family began to march out of the great enclosure. They had a fierce air, with large and vigorous bodies, inured to cold and hunger. Their favourite weapon, the battle–axe with a short handle, rested on their shoulders, and they wore their long hair tied up over their foreheads, forming a kind of aigrette, then falling behind like a horse's tail. The long line of the escort of warriors was followed by several waggons drawn by oxen. In the first sat Fredegonda, with the little King Clotaire, then only four years of age. She was a most formidable–looking woman, with a fierce, cruel glance in her large black eyes, and a haughty bearing. Mystacon advanced in a cringing attitude, offering a valuable present, which she accepted, as he had hoped, without stopping, ordering it to be put into one of the waggons. As the royal train passed out of sight, the merchant gave orders to continue the journey to Lyons, by way of Bibracte or Augustodunum (Autun). The boys had seen the warriors, and the great lady in her waggon. But they had been told nothing. If Porlor had known that it was the Queen of the Franks, his rede would probably have been to rush forward, tell her that Hereric was an Atheling of Deira, and claim her protection. But they knew nothing, were kept behind, and were only allowed to peep between the bales.

At Lyons the merchant embarked his goods in a large boat, went down the Rhone to its mouth, and then sailed in a vessel from Massilia to the mouth of the Tiber. Before embarking, the boys again had a long and anxious talk over their position. Mystacon had told them lie after lie about their destination, and they were in great perplexity. He said that he had saved them from death at the hands of the sea–thieves, that he was their saviour and benefactor, and that the journey was for their good. They had thought of telling their captor that Hereric was an Atheling, but on the whole it seemed to them that the knowledge might increase the danger, if it existed, and that their wisest course was to keep silence about themselves. They had enjoyed the journey through France. The sight of a strange country and of many things that were new to them had amused and interested them, and they now looked as bright and fresh as on the morning when the Berserker rage so unfortunately seized upon gentle Hereric, and led to such an unlooked–for catastrophe. Their fate was now sealed. After their embarkation in the boat on the river Rhone, it would not be many days before they would enter the imperial city and become the victims of Mystacon's greed.

PART II

EXILE

Go forth, bright youths, nor any danger shun,
Go forth to brave whatever may betide;

Your country needs your knowledge hardly won,
Your heads to counsel and your hearts to guide.

But let fond memory turn again to home,
Come back enriched with stores of foreign lore,

Return to gladden hearts that long bemoan
Loved kinsmen's absence from their native shore.

CHAPTER I

FALLEN ROME

In the end of the sixth century the old Rome, the lingering remnant of the imperial city, had nearly disappeared. Language, literature, art, science were being crushed out, not so much by inroads of barbarians as by the bigotry of bishops and monks. When the Goths, under Alaric, entered Rome by the Salarian gate in 410 and revelled in pillage for six days, they did little or no damage to buildings or works of art. Half a century afterwards, when Genseric sacked the city for fourteen days, he only carried off the gilt–bronze tiles on the roof of the Capitoline temple of Jupiter and the spoils from the temple of Jerusalem; and during the sack of Ricimer little injury was done to buildings. Rome suffered more from Totila in 546 than from any former sack, half the walls being destroyed and many houses being burnt.

Theodoric the Goth established his capital at Ravenna. He took steps to protect the monuments of Rome, and his reign from 493 to 526 may be considered to have been the period which saw the last of the true Romans. Cassiodorus strove to preserve the rapidly failing taste for the models of classical antiquity. Boethius, the last of the Romans whom Cato or Cicero would have acknowledged as their countryman, threw a flickering ray over the fallen empire. But both Boethius and his learned friend Symmachus were murdered by Theodoric in 526. Long before this the last joyous festivals of old Rome, the Lupercalia, had been abolished through the bigotry of Pope Gelasius, and with them disappeared all living vestiges of the old life. The buildings were imperishable. The shell was there amidst dirt and desolation; the life was gone. Monks pulled down or defaced the edifices and statues raised by genius, and the beautiful temple of Apollo gave place to the cells of Benedict on the summit of Monte Cassino.

Belisarius and Narses recovered Italy for the emperors of the East in 536, and Justinian fixed the capital of his exarch or governor at Ravenna, not at Rome. But the walls of Rome were repaired, and partially rebuilt. Only thirty years afterwards Alboin, with an army of Lombards, conquered Northern Italy without encountering any opposition, established an oppressive aristocracy in the subjugated provinces, and extended his inroads to the gates of Rome. This was the condition of affairs when Mystacon arrived at the mouth of the Tiber with his merchandise. Maurice Tiberius, the best of the Eastern emperors, had ascended the throne at Constantinople in 582. His exarch Romanus ruled at Ravenna. Young Autharis had succeeded Alboin as king of the Lombards in 586, and his armies kept Rome in perpetual fear. The suburbs were constantly devastated. The city was vacant and solitary: the depopulation had been rapid. Famine was frequent, the edifices were exposed to ruin, and the chief person in the city was the Bishop, who exulted over the desolation of idolatry. His name was Pelagius II., but the ecclesiastic who possessed the greatest influence over the miserable remnant of the inhabitants was the Deacon Gregory. He was a native of the city, born in 544, and his parents, Gordian and Sylvia, were of senatorial rank. He was also wealthy, and he had founded a monastery on the Caelian Hill, dedicated to St. Andrew. He was learned in the Scriptures and in the works of the early fathers of the Church, and was a voluminous writer both of letters and of commentaries. While acting as the Pope's nuncio at Constantinople, he had occupied himself in a violent controversy with the Eutychians on the question whether, after the resurrection, the bodies of the faithful would be impalpable like air, or palpable though subtle and sublimed. The former view was the heresy which Gregory, with the important aid of the Emperor, effectually suppressed. He then returned to Rome, and maintained his influence by relieving distress through his great wealth and his organising ability, and also by the power of his pathetic but rude eloquence. But he was a narrow–minded bigot. He hated the monuments of classic genius, destroyed the magnificent baths and theatres, and did more harm to the buildings of Rome than all the barbarians, from Alaric to Totila, put together. The decided progress made by the ancients in astronomy and geography was declared to be contrary to scriptural truth, sculpture was condemned as an ally of paganism, and both science and art disappeared. The belief of Gregory that the end of the world was close at hand also had a mischievous tendency. As a young man he was often tormented with pains in the bowels, and was continually suffering from low fever, and these ailments probably had their effect on his temperament. His zeal for the spread of Christianity perhaps atones for his shortcomings in other respects, and at all events Gregory was the leading figure in the Rome of the end of the sixth century.

The son of the Senator Gordian was not the only wealthy man in Rome, or it would have been no place for Mystacon and his wares. Patricians, with incomes from estates in Campania and Sicily, still lived in some of the ruins of departed greatness on the Caelian Hill. We meet with the names of Decius, Basilius, Olybrius, Orestes, Maximus, Symmachus, and Pamphronius. But the sons and daughters of others were reduced to penury, and many descendants of consuls and senators were begging their bread in the streets.

Pamphronius was one of those who, by flight on some occasions and prompt submission on others, had succeeded in preserving sufficient of this world's goods to enable him to live in a partially–rebuilt villa, and to show signs of comparative wealth. He had a few clients round him, and was a customer of Mystacon.

Symmachus Boethius was another survivor of an ancient and renowned family. His maternal ancestor had been a bright model of learning and virtue in the days of Constantine and his immediate successors. Scholar, statesman, and orator, he gave new life and vigour to the literature of Rome, and he was zealous for the ancient faith. He remonstrated with the Emperor Gratian on the removal of the altar of victory from the Senate in 384. His letters are extant, and that in favour of the altar of victory is, we are told, infinitely superior to the verbose, abusive, and dishonest reply of St. Ambrose. Proconsul in Achaia and Africa, he had great wealth, estates in Campania, Sicily, and Mauritania, and a mansion on the Caelian Hill. His descendants for four generations were all distinguished. The fifth in descent, named Quintus Aurelius Memmius Symmachus, had an only daughter Rusticiana. She was happily married to Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, whose father was consul in 487. Boethius was famous for his learning and for his charities. He was accused of a wish to free Rome from the Goths, was condemned unheard, and put to death, with his son, by order of Theodoric. His Consolatio Philosophiæ, written in prison, shows that he was not a Christian. Rusticiana was reduced to poverty until her property was restored by Theodoric's daughter Amalasontha. At the sack of Rome in 541 she was again reduced to beggary, and was only saved from death by the intervention of Totila.

Anicius Severinus Boethius, the son of the great Boethius and of Rusticiana, was consul in 522, and died, soon after his mother, in 570. He had succeeded in recovering his Sicilian estates, and in raising the fortunes of his family sufficiently to be able to reside in the fine old mansion of the Symmachus family on the Caelian. His son Symmachus Boethius continued to prosper, and, at the time of which we speak, he was one of the few wealthy patricians of Rome. His wife was a virtuous lady named Otacilia. His villa made some pretensions to its ancient splendour, and its owner, now a man between fifty and sixty, outwardly conformed to the Christian religion, as all who valued their peace and safety were bound to do in those days. The religion of Ambrose and of Gregory became a persecuting religion as soon as its hierarchy had the power to persecute. In this and in other essentials it differed widely from the religion of Christ. By ready conformity the patricians Pamphronius and Symmachus Boethius maintained friendly relations with the Deacon Gregory and his monks of St. Andrew, who were their neighbours on the Caelian Hill. They were consulted on the affairs of the city, especially on the absorbing questions relating to food–supply, but all real power was in the hands of the Bishop and clergy, whose preaching swayed the mob. Gregory was, indeed, a remarkable personality. His character presented a singular mixture of sense and superstition, pride and humility, simplicity and cunning; and through all there was that touch of sympathy which secured the support of the multitude, and that burning and impulsive zeal which seemed to carry all before it, and which was mainly directed to the propagation of his faith. His worst trait was his unprincipled time–serving. When the good Emperor Maurice was murdered, whom he knew well, and from whom he had received much kindness, he wrote a flattering letter to his murderer Phocas, one of the most infamous wretches that ever disgraced the purple, which is worded in a way that is simply revolting. It needs much zeal to atone for such baseness.

These were the leaders of Rome, but not of living Rome. They were like small crabs in a great dead shell. It is difficult to realise the effect on the mind of any one then coming to Rome for the first time, and gazing upon the superb baths and theatres, the splendid temples and halls in long vistas, all desolate and abandoned, with here and there a priceless work of art thrown down and broken. Everywhere silence and desolation, except where some monk might be seen preaching to a squalid group, or where half–starved crowds assembled at church doors for doles of food. The population had dwindled from millions to thousands, and clergy had taken the place of soldiery and well–to–do citizens of the empire, but in much smaller numbers. Still there were a few wealthy people, sufficient to induce traders to expose valuable goods for sale.

MYSTACON ATTACKED BY HIS BOY CAPTIVES

Mystacon, when he arrived in his vessel, found the port of Ostia quite empty, and there was ample space at his disposal in the long row of dilapidated emporia facing the Tiber, at the foot of Mount Aventine. Here his goods were warehoused until the day of the market, which was then held in the beautiful Forum of Trajan. He now had to disclose his real intention to the English boys. He had safely housed them in a large room, with plenty of his own hirelings always more or less on guard outside. He opened his communication by dwelling upon his kindness and liberality, on having saved their lives when the sea–thieves would have killed them, and on the gratitude they owed him. At last the truth came out. He would be obliged to sell them in the market, owing to the great expense they had been to him, and if a sufficient sum could not be obtained, he would have to take them to Ravenna or to Constantinople. He was unprepared for the outburst of rage and fury with which his base scheme was received by the little boys. They told him that Hereric was an atheling, and that all were the sons of thegns, better born than any one in Rome. Their eyes flamed with Berserker madness as they cried out that they would kill him as they would kill a wild–cat or a badger, and Forthere actually flew at his throat. The coward was taken by surprise. He cried out for help, and could not collect his ideas and decide upon the course to take until the lads were all tied hand and foot. He was in great perplexity. A violent scene at the market was out of the question. His wish was to flog them within an inch of their lives; but, as he had told his deceased accomplices, damaged goods only fetch half–price. He must display them with whole skins. At last he determined to starve them into submission. He told them that they would have no food until they consented to go quietly to the Forum, and left them with the door well barred. For more than thirty–six hours they resolutely held out, but the bigger boys could not bear to hear little Godric and Sivel crying for food. They turned to Porlor for his counsel. None of them had been more furious, none of them now felt a stronger desire to kill the treacherous villain who had employed the kidnappers, as they now fully believed. He said that the shame was almost more than they could bear, but that it would at least be a great gain to be free from Mystacon. No master could be worse, and when they were older and stronger they could defy any master to detain them. "But the shame! the shame!" moaned Coelred and Oswith, as they lay with their heads in their hands prone to the ground. It had to be done. The next time Mystacon came, Porlor told him to bring food, and that they would go without resistance. The boys had few words and could not scold. But the villain was told that they knew him as he was, far viler and baser than the sea–thieves, a niddring and a liar, and that some day they would kill him. He sent them plenty of food, and his sickly smile betokened malice not unmixed with fear. His mind was, however, relieved: he would get his price.

"To be sold as slaves!" In all their thoughts of possible danger and suffering, they had never anticipated anything so bad as this. They called to mind the words that the sounds in the forest seemed to form themselves into, and shuddered. But after hours of despondency the brave little fellows took heart. Coelred was the leader who now urged his companions to remember the words of the Princess. They talked long and anxiously, but before they laid down their heads to sleep, they had, with one accord, all raised their right hands and cried—"Come what may, we will quit ourselves like men—above all, like Englishmen!"

CHAPTER II

IN BONDAGE AT ROME

The Forum of Trajan was as yet uninjured. The noble rows of buildings with colonnades, including the once well–stored library, still surrounded the large paved court, and in the centre stood the beautiful column with its elaborate representation in bronze of the events of the Dacian war. Here important markets were held, and on one autumn morning of the year 588 several merchants, who had lately arrived, exposed many things for sale. Abundance of people resorted thither to buy. Mystacon had his wares arranged under a colonnade. He invited attention in a cringing attitude, seeking for purchasers. The English boys stood in a group quite naked, their eyes full of tears of shame and rage. Among the first people who stopped in front of them was a thin and emaciated ecclesiastic, accompanied by another, who was younger and of stouter build. The older man had an aquiline nose and hollow cheeks, bright piercing eyes, which had assumed a gentle expression, and a somewhat commanding air. It was Gregory himself, then aged forty–four, and his secretary Peter. Mystacon bowed low before them. Gregory looked at the boys with admiration, and turning to the merchant, he remarked that their bodies were white, their countenances beautiful, and their hair very fine. Mystacon bowed still lower. "From what country or nation were they brought?" he asked. The reply was that they came from the island of Britain, whose inhabitants are of that personal appearance. "Are these islanders Christians, or are they still involved in the errors of Paganism?" was the next inquiry. He was told that they were Pagans. Fetching a deep sigh, he exclaimed—"Alas! what pity that the author of darkness is possessed of men of such fair countenances, and that, being remarkable for such graceful aspects, their minds should be void of inward grace. What," he demanded, "is the name of that nation?" The kidnapper replied that they were called Angles. "Right," said Gregory, "for they have angelic faces, and it becomes such to be co–heirs with the angels in heaven. What is the name," he proceeded, "of the province from which they are brought?" The reply was that the name of the province was Deira. "Truly are they De irâ," said he, "withdrawn from wrath and called to the mercy of Christ. How is the king of that province called?" Mystacon said that his name was Ella; and Gregory, alluding to it as he walked on, observed to Peter that Hallelujah, the praise of God the Creator, must be sung in those parts. Gregory was on his way to have an interview with the Pope, and on coming into his presence, he proposed that ministers should be sent to the English, by whom they might be converted to Christ; and, in his impulsive way, he declared that he was ready to undertake that work himself, by the assistance of God. Pelagius replied that he was willing to grant his request, but that the people would never consent to his departure. Gregory then entrusted to Peter the business of purchasing some of these "Angles," and sent him back to the market.

The boys did not understand a word of the remarks made by Gregory and by other passers–by who stopped to question Mystacon. Presently two patricians, advanced in years, followed by clients and attendants, walked into the Forum and stopped at the colonnade where the lads were still exposed. After gazing upon them, Symmachus Boethius observed to his companion Pamphronius that he had never seen such perfect symmetry and beauty except in ancient sculpture. "The works of Praxiteles are looked upon with disapproval by our good friends the priests, so I would fain ornament my villa with living forms that would be worthy of the chisel of the most gifted sculptor of antiquity." Pamphronius expressed his concurrence, and his desire to possess at least two of the young slaves. Calling Mystacon aside, they made various inquiries, and concluded bargains by which Symmachus Boethius became the owner of Coelred and Porlor, while Oswith and Sivel fell to Pamphronius. Their clients were instructed to complete the arrangement and pay the purchase–money, and the great men passed on. No sooner were they out of sight, than Peter arrived breathless to carry out the instructions of his master. Mystacon was delighted, for his troubles and anxieties were fully repaid. Peter agreed to his terms, and the Atheling Hereric, Forthere, and Godric became the property of the Deacon Gregory.

The boys were thus relieved from their shameful and degrading position, which they had looked forward to with such horror and dismay. Their clothes were restored to them, and they were told by signs to accompany the servants of the patricians and Peter, the road of all being the same, namely, that leading to the Caelian Hill. Casting looks of vindictive hatred at Mystacon, they gladly accompanied their new acquaintances.

Of all the seven hills of Rome, the Caelian was the most favoured by the wealthier classes during the latter days of the empire, and their villas were scattered over it, half–hidden by groves of cypress trees. But the troublous times had wrought destruction, and most of them were now in ruins. Facing the Palatine, where the imperial palace stood desolate and abandoned, was the monastery of St. Andrew, the villas of Symmachus and Pamphronius, and the deserted temple of Divus Claudius, while just below ran the Appian Way. In rear stood the Sacellum Dianæ, the arch of Dolabella, and the chapel containing little votive ships of marble, reminding the boys of the votive boats in the tumulus of Vidfinn at Bilbrough. The aqueduct of Nero entered Rome at the back of the Caelian Hill, and was one of the few which still brought water to the city; and to the south were the Lateran Palace and the famous Asinarian Gate, by which Totila and his army entered in 546, through the treachery of some Isaurian sentries.

The villa of Symmachus was the best and most perfect that remained in the Rome of Gregory. The atrium and adjacent halls were of noble proportions; there was a large garden in the rear, full of myrtles and other shrubs; and beyond were the stables, near which Coelred and Porlor were provided with a cubiculum to themselves. Symmachus only required the lads to attend him on certain occasions, and to perform outdoor work, to which they felt no objection. He was a man of a kindly and somewhat timid disposition, fond of a certain amount of display, and with cultivated tastes. His amiable wife Otacilia was very kind to the lads. They had liberty to wander over the city, and Porlor was full of eager curiosity.

Pamphronius was less wealthy; his villa was of smaller proportions and in a more ruinous condition, and he himself was a man of a more exacting disposition, and with less natural kindliness than his neighbour. Yet Oswith and little Sivel were well treated, and they were very fortunate in the companionship of a son of one of the freedmen of Pamphronius named Bassus, who was some years older than Oswith. This youth was of mixed Roman and Gothic descent, tall for his age and handsome, and well educated, being able to speak the Greek language, as well as the debased Latin then talked at Rome, and having picked up much of the ancient lore, in addition to what he had been taught of Christianity. Bassus from the first conceived an ardent boyish attachment for Oswith and a warm friendship for all the English lads, and he continued to be a valued and faithful companion to the end of their lives. He was destined to survive them all but one.

With their life in the monastery of St. Andrew the three others, or at least two of them, were not so well pleased. The prior, named Augustine, was a disciplinarian, inclined to be harsh and imperious to those under him, and his humility was of that kind which is nearly related to pride. Times had to be observed, rules must be respected; yet the lads enjoyed a certain share of liberty. The gentle and self–respecting Hereric fell more easily into the regular ways of the monks. He considered it to be more dignified to obey, and he was deeply interested in the new ideas and conceptions conveyed in the little he could understand of the teaching of Peter, who was appointed to instruct them before baptism. But Forthere hated the confinement and the whole life, longing for the sports and adventures of the forests to which he had been accustomed. Little Godric followed the lead of Forthere, who was rebellious from the first. The monks found it necessary to correct him before he had been an inmate more than a few days, and they would have proceeded to more severe measures if he had persisted in his disobedience. The loyal devotion of Forthere to his companion as an atheling, and his sincere affection for Hereric himself, were the motives which probably saved him. For Hereric's sake he would submit when he would have been cut to pieces before he would have obeyed a monk; and, in fact, the authorities ruled him through the influence of the Atheling. The fierce young Englishman was a true son of Brand of Ulfskelf, the mighty warrior and most loyal of all the followers of King Ella. Like his father, young Forthere could brook no tyranny, but, like his father, he would die for any atheling of the house of Deira.

A monk named Laurentius was appointed to instruct the four boys outside the monastery. They understood very little that he told them, and that through the help of Bassus, for as yet they could only exchange thoughts by means of a few signs and words established between themselves and their new friend. Nevertheless, Gregory caused all the seven English lads to be baptized without further delay, deciding that the instruction of Peter and Laurentius had been sufficient. In a very few months Bassus taught them the language then in use at Rome, a dialect of Latin in process of conversion into Italian, and they were able to understand all that was said to them, as well as to hold conversations. He then began to teach them Greek, the language of the imperial court and of commerce, and the boys in the villas of the two patricians worked hard to acquire it, Bassus having impressed upon them that it alone would enable them to comprehend fully the many strange things they would see and hear, and would give them the knowledge which was power.

Coelred, Oswith, and Porlor, with Bassus as their guide, had wandered through the almost deserted streets of Rome, and gazed with wonder and admiration on the magnificent edifices, which were then neglected and dilapidated, but not actually in ruins. They had especially examined the fine temple to the Sun erected by the Emperor Aurelian on the Quirinal, and while they rested under its ornate portico, Bassus had explained the true import of Mithras stabbing the bull. This opened a whole world of imaginative speculation in the mind of Porlor, who had never forgotten his wonder at the sight of the bas–relief in the cave at York. On another day they crossed the Tiber and visited Constantine's basilica dedicated to St. Peter, which presented a sorry appearance when compared with the monuments of antiquity. The sides were of plain unplastered brick, with arched openings for windows, and in front there were figures and emblems painted in fresco, in a very debased style of art. Even a child must have been impressed with the superiority of the ancient edifices. The English boys called to mind the impression they had received from beholding the ruins of Roman temples at York; and how it had been borne in upon their minds that a mighty empire had passed away, and that it was for their countrymen to build something greater on its ruins. These ideas now recurred to them with immeasurably greater force as they sat together under the portico of the desecrated temple of Jupiter on the Capitol, and commanded a view of the graceful temples round the Forum, of the palace rising above them on the Palatine, and of the long vista of edifices terminating with the Colosseum. The warm sun and deep blue sky gave a brilliance to the scene, which contrasted with the signs of decay that could be detected by the eye, in places where broken statues and pavements and heaps of fallen tiles denoted the desolation of the present time. Bassus told them how the Forum used to be crowded with citizens, he showed them the place whence great senators and orators used to make speeches to the people, and he described the processions of the lupercalia and of the milites. All had passed away. Their young thoughts were not depressed. They reflected on what was to follow, on another great people arising to replace the dead Roman Empire. But they did not think that it was to be found here among the monks and the debased rabble of Gregory's Rome. Their aspirations turned to the North, to the homes of Deira, and to the stalwart English, irresistible in war and open to new ideas and fresh knowledge. It was becoming something more than a dream amongst them, that it was ordained that they should bring back to their kindred these new ideas and this fresh knowledge. They would diligently learn all that could be useful to their people in the lands of the ancient civilisation, until they were old enough to wear swords and take their places as men in the battle array; and then they would return, if need be fighting their way home. This was the result of many discussions and conversations, held among the cypress groves of the Caelian Hill, after exploring excursions through the desolate city.

The boys from the two villas usually took their morning bath in a tank near the navicula, which was shaded by trees and supplied with water from Nero's aqueduct. Here, too, the Atheling, with their cousin Forthere and little Godric, often joined them, and they talked over their prospects, and discussed all the wondrous things they had seen and heard. The Christian religion had been more clearly explained to them when they acquired the use of the language then talked at Rome. They understood that the Son of God had died for all mankind, and that He had risen from the dead. They knew that they must pray to Him for guidance and to keep them from sin, and they all did so. But they thought that the teaching of Laurentius and Peter was the same as the far more impressive and beautiful teaching of the Princess Alca. In their conception Christ was another name for Balder. But they kept these opinions to themselves, and gave the name of Christ to the Son of God they worshipped.

Often taking counsel together, they formed a small Gemót, as they called it, of seven little boys, with the world of Rome against them, all except Bassus, whom they had made one of themselves. Hereric invented a watchword to warn them of the approach of strangers who might disturb their meetings in the cool cypress groves. It consisted of the two words Bylr, a tempest, and Grima, a thing helmeted or veiled. The meaning was that the unknown or veiled one might betoken a storm for them. For they conversed respecting all the affairs of Rome, speculated on the hidden meanings of all they heard, and talked over the time for rising against their oppressors and fighting their way home. There were two or three people whom Forthere intended to kill first, including Mystacon.

So time passed on, and after two years Gregory succeeded to the Pontificate. He had not forgotten his project of sending a mission to the Angles, and was mindful of the advantage of having youthful interpreters ready on the Caelian. But for a long time the miserable condition of Rome absorbed his attention. The state of affairs had become perilous. The corn ships failed to arrive time after time, and these failures caused misery among the people. It was a common occurrence to see crowds clamouring for food at the doors of St. Peter's and at the Lateran. A total cessation of the Egyptian corn trade was threatened, while the supply from Sicily was becoming more and more precarious. Even greater danger threatened Rome from the north. The Lombards made constant incursions, riding over the Campagna, devastating the suburbs, and insulting the sentries guarding the gates of the city.

Pope Gregory appealed to the exarch at Ravenna for help, but that official was unable to do more than maintain his own position, which was also threatened. There were frequent consultations between the Pope and his clerical advisers and the leading patricians. The outlook was most serious. At last it was determined that an embassy should be sent to Constantinople to represent to the Emperor Maurice the absolute necessity for making efficient arrangements to supply Rome with corn, and to entreat him to send an army to drive back the Lombards and put a stop to their incessant inroads, which were desolating Southern Italy. Symmachus Boethius and Pamphronius were requested to be the ambassadors, and after some pressure from the Pope they rather unwillingly consented, for it would be an expensive and probably a thankless service. They resolved to take several attendants, including the four English boys and young Bassus.

This startling and important news came as a great surprise to the little society. As yet they had never been separated. Oswith consulted Bassus, and told him that they must bind each other always to be steadfast friends, in the most solemn manner possible. Their compact must include a firm resolution that when they returned home none should be left behind. He asked Bassus how this could be done with the most binding solemnity. "It must be an oath to God," advised his friend, "which in the Hebrew tongue is Lilla. The most solemn thing that you can do," added Bassus, "is to change your name from Oswith to Lilla, as a memorial and a testimony. This will make the deepest impression on the rest."

For the last time before the separation all the boys assembled under the shady trees by the tank of the navicula. Much sorrow was expressed at parting, but all anticipated wonderful things, and probably much good, from the visit to Constantinople. They all took the oath of constant friendship, and that no one should be left behind when they fought their way home. "It is the oath of God," said Oswith, "and to impress it on our hearts, from henceforth my name shall be Lilla." "We declare," they all answered, "that we will call you Lilla for evermore as a testimony of our compact." They embraced each other. Little Sivel parted from his adopted brother Forthere with bitter tears. All took tender farewells of Hereric the Atheling, whom they fondly loved, of Forthere, and of Godric. It was a sad parting, but they looked forward to meeting again at the same place.

A few days afterwards the two patricians embarked at Brundusium for Constantinople, accompanied by Lilla, Coelred, Porlor, Sivel, Bassus, and other attendants.

CHAPTER III

THE GLORIES OF THE EAST

At Rome everything reminded a visitor of past greatness. Constantinople, on the other hand, was the new Rome, the grandest and most magnificent city in the world. For nearly three centuries the revenues of the empire had been lavished upon her edifices, all the treasures of art had been brought from far and near to adorn her palaces and theatres, and her churches were decorated with marble and gold and every precious material the earth could yield. Her unrivalled position on the shores of the Propontis, her harbour of Chrysoceras (or the "Golden Horn"), and the beautiful wooded shores of the Bosphorus surrounded her with every charm and every luxury, and combined to make the city of Constantinople the most splendid capital ever raised by genius commanding unlimited resources.

After their arrival the Roman patricians had to wait some days for an audience with the Emperor. They had visited the capital before, but no one could ever tire of gazing on that unequalled architectural display. Boethius and Pamphronius walked through the city followed by their attendants; and the English boys, confused at the magnificence around them, were half dazed with wonder and admiration. They stood in the elliptically–shaped forum of Constantine, with triumphal arches at the two opposite entrances, and colonnades all round, filled with the statues of the gods, with shrines dedicated to Cybele and to Fortune, and a lofty pillar in the centre. This specially attracted their attention. It was 120 feet high, of marble and porphyry, surmounted by a statue of the Emperor Theodosius. Next they were taken to another forum, which was square and also surrounded by porticoes, with an elevated arcade adorned with statues, and the golden miliarium in the centre. The Hippodrome also filled them with astonishment, 300 paces long, and the space between the two goals filled with statues and obelisks. They saw the wreathed column of bronze which bore the golden tripod of Delphi, and the Emperor's throne, with the winding staircase called Cochlea descending to the palace. They encountered palaces, churches, and baths at every turn; and were taken to see the underground cistern, or rather lake, with an arched roof supported on 336 marble pillars. Even more surprising to them were the baths of Zeuxippus, the most beautiful in the world, adorned with the greatest triumphs of Grecian art, the Muses of Helicon, the Athene of Lyndus, and the Amphitrite of Rhodes. It all seemed like a gorgeous dream which might suddenly melt away. When their eyes met, their looks told each other of their amazement, but they were too much astonished to express themselves in words. It was, however, the life and movement which made these scenes so striking and so vivid. Horsemen, foot passengers hurrying to and fro, troops marching, bright colours everywhere in motion, gave animation and interest to the marvellous buildings, so different from poor deserted Rome. They strolled on to the Golden Gate, and back to the Augusteum, where a colossal equestrian statue of Justinian in an attitude of defiance absorbed their attention for a few moments, and then their eyes glanced beyond it to the crowning glory of his architectural work.

They had scarcely room for more wonder when they came before the great church dedicated to Divine Wisdom. Yet the interior, as they entered, almost took their breath away. St. Sophia had been restored and rededicated by Justinian about a quarter of a century before, in 563. The beautiful columns of green marble from Ephesus, of porphyry from Aurelian's Sun Temple at Rome, the ornaments and figures in carved stone, the decorations in gold and marbles of the most precious kinds, the walls encrusted with mosaics, the richly–carved capitals, and the exquisite proportions of the aerial dome, all combined to form the most perfect and beautiful church that had ever been erected. The gorgeous services, with long processions of richly–dressed priests and their attendants, solemn music and singing, and the delicious scent of incense, completed their wonder and awe. The boys remained in a sort of dream of astonishment for several days, until the time arrived for the audience. The patricians were richly dressed, and their attendants, in suitably handsome attire, were to accompany them to the palace.

The Emperor Maurice Tiberius had ascended the throne in the year 582. Descended from an ancient Roman family settled in Asia Minor, he was born at Arabissus in Cappadocia, spent his youth at the court of Justin II., and afterwards served with distinction in the Persian war. His accession was due to the best of all reasons, his loyalty to his predecessor Tiberius Augustus, whose daughter he married. Maurice was forty–three years of age when he became emperor, and he was an excellent ruler, promoting the happiness of his people with sense and courage. He was a rigid economist, and his demeanour was cold and reserved. Soon after his accession another war with Persia broke out, and when the embassy came from Rome, the general Heraclius had just returned from Mesopotamia after gaining a great victory.

Rigid etiquette and a display of pomp and magnificence at court ceremonials had been introduced by Diocletian and had been increased by successive emperors. The palace was a vast building on the shores of the Propontis between the Hippodrome and the church of St. Sophia. When the embassy from Rome arrived at the appointed time it was met by the Master of the Offices and his attendants, and the patricians, being of consular rank, were accosted with the title of "illustrious." After an interval they were ushered into the presence. The Emperor was in the great audience–hall called Chalce (from its brazen doors), which consisted of a dome supported by massy pillars, walls encrusted with mosaics representing African and Italian triumphs, and a pavement of many–coloured marbles. The imperial throne was surrounded by the great officers of state, and by favoured courtiers, all gorgeously dressed. There stood the Praepositus or Prefect of the Bedchamber with attendant Counts, the Quaestor or Chancellor, the Count of the Sacred Largesses, the Count of the Privy Purse, the Commanders of the Guards, the victorious generals Heraclius, Comentiolus, Narses, and Priscus, and several bishops. There also were Athanagild, a tall and handsome young Gothic Prince, the philosopher Metrodorus, the famous physician Alexander, the lawyer–poet Agathias, and many others.

There were numerous presentations, and when the turn of Boethius and Pamphronius came, those illustrious patricians made low obeisance, and stated the case set forth in their instructions from the Holy Father Gregory, touching the sore need of prompt assistance in which the city of the seven hills then stood. They were told that they would receive their answer on a future day. Many eyes were turned on the handsome youths, whose good looks were enhanced by their rich and well–fitting clothes, and the patricians soon had reason to regret that they had taken those means of increasing their own importance by the brilliance of their suite. In leaving the palace the boys made way for Priscus the general, and they were struck by the revolting appearance of the soldier who held his horse. He was a short man with red hair and shaggy eyebrows, and his face was disfigured by a great scar. He looked a savage and malicious barbarian; yet this man was Phocas, the successor of Maurice as Emperor of the East! whose monument, a tall column with an inscription, is still standing in the Forum at Rome.

During the following days the patricians received many visits. Narses, then one of the most trusted of the Emperor's generals, paid his respects, and took special notice of Lilla and Bassus. Stephanos, the Count of the Sacred Largesses, also came, and was very much attracted by the intelligent appearance of little Sivel. The Gothic Prince Athanagild was another visitor. He was a young scion of the royal house of Spain, who had taken refuge at the court of Maurice from the persecution of King Recared. Athanagild was also a grandson, through his mother, of Queen Brunehaud of Austrasia. During his exile he had formed a friendship with the physician Alexander, through whom he had heard of the Indian voyages of Cosmas. Fond of adventure, he was now keen to follow in the course of the old navigator, and was looking out for trusty followers. His eyes fell upon Coelred and Porlor, and he at once conceived a strong desire to secure their services.

It was too late for the patricians to regret their imprudence in displaying their precious human property so openly; and just at this time Symmachus Boethius fell dangerously ill. The physician Alexander attended him, but his charms and amulets were of no avail. A few days after the death of his colleague, Pamphronius was summoned to receive his answer, and he was served with an order, through the Count of the Domestics, to bring the five youths with him who had been in the suite of the embassy at the former reception. The Emperor gave him audience at the lovely summer residence of Heroeum, a villa with gardens extending down to the sea, on the Asiatic side of the Propontis, near Chalcedon. Maurice was not encouraging. He said that he had ordered some ships laden with grain to be sent to the Tiber; but that he could give no military aid, owing to the disturbed state of affairs in Persia. The Emperor, indeed, told Pamphronius that he was himself on his way to Antioch with all the forces he could collect. His advice was that King Childebert of Austrasia should be bribed to invade Northern Italy and give employment to the Lombards. He also promised to instruct the Exarch of Ravenna to co–operate with Childebert.

Pamphronius then had to take his leave; but before he embarked to return to the city he was informed by the Praepositus that the five youths were required for the public service, and would be detained at Heroeum. He protested strongly, but was merely told that he could, if he chose, recover them by process of law when their services were no longer under requisition by the State. Pamphronius returned to Rome with little but good advice as the result of his embassy, having lost his colleague by death, and his two slaves, for whom he had paid high prices to Mystacon, by an arbitrary act which, from his point of view, amounted to plunder. He felt very indignant.

Great preparations were, in fact, being made for a Mesopotamian campaign, rendered probable by the disturbances in Persia. The army was already on the march to Antioch by way of the Cilician Gates. Ships were assembled at Chalcedon and other ports, and the Emperor Maurice himself, with some of his principal officers and generals, was about to embark for the coast of Syria.

The boys had been lodged, with the attendants of the Emperor's household, in buildings near the gardens of Heroeum. They were able, thanks to their friend Bassus, to converse in Greek, and to understand what had taken place. They welcomed the chances that were now opening to them of taking part in some warlike adventure, and of emulating the deeds of their Viking ancestors, before again returning to Rome. Next day Lilla and Bassus were appointed to posts in the army, as pages in attendance on Narses. Little Sivel was taken into the household of the Treasurer Stephanos, who intended to employ the quick–witted and intelligent boy in one of the State departments under his charge, probably in the mint at Antioch.

Athanagild was of an enterprising and roving disposition, and on the death of his father Hermenegild at Toledo in 586, his uncle Recared succeeded, and he fled to the court of his grandmother at Metz. But a violent quarrel with his uncle Childebert led to his banishment, and he found safety with the Emperor Maurice. Having been nursed through an illness by the physician Alexander, a close friendship was formed between them, and he thus heard of the voyages to India by the aged monk Cosmas, who was intimate with the physician. He had also been told of the great military exploits of Gollas, King of the White Huns, in those parts, and he resolved to find his way to that distant and unknown land, and to offer his sword to the conqueror. He had vague dreams of sovereignty and dominion for himself. His great object now was to find a pilot and a trusty crew to take him to India by the route of Cosmas. Alexander gave him friendly help and advice, and obtained for him a pilot in the shape of Monas, an old companion of Cosmas, who would find a vessel if supplied with funds. The Gothic Prince was now looking for two or three followers who would work under Monas, and whom he could thoroughly trust. He had taken a fancy for Coelred and Porlor at first sight. He admired their stalwart young limbs, and their faces with an expression open as the day, where no lie could find a place. He felt sure that, if once gained over, they would be loyal and true.

Athanagild was a tall, handsome young man, with a winning manner, and when he told the boys that he was a Geata, whose deeds they had heard of in the song of Beowulf, he won their hearts. They remembered how often Coifi had sung of the Geatas and their exploits; and as they thought of the old hall at home, where the gleeman was wont to recite his tales, their eyes filled with tears. They were walking with the Prince in the beautiful gardens of Heroeum near the sea–shore, as he explained his plans to them. There was much that was wonderful, much that they could not understand. But they saw that it was an exploit worthy of the Vikings, and they joyfully consented to take part in it, on the understanding that they were to return with Monas. The two boys were handed over to the Gothic Prince with the sanction of the Prefect of the Imperial Bedchamber.

In less than a month the Emperor and his court were at Antioch, with a powerful and efficient army encamped outside the town. Coelred and Lilla agreed together that, if they returned from their expeditions, they would wait for each other at Antioch before starting for Rome. Sivel was already employed in the mint, receiving practical instruction in the art of coining the debased money which bore the name and effigy of Maurice, and they thought that they could safely calculate on his being still there when they returned.

One evening the boys were sitting together under the shade of some date–palms outside the city gate, discussing all the wondrous sights they had beheld, and their new experiences, when a great cloud of dust was seen on the road. Soon afterwards a brilliant cavalcade came in sight. It literally glittered under the rays of the setting sun, seeming to be one sparkling mass of bright weapons and gorgeous dresses. At its head rode a man in a long robe of cloth–of–gold, with flowing locks, and a huge globe of some light wicker–work gilded, surmounting his silver–gilt helmet. After a short parley he was admitted with his followers, and conducted to quarters near the palace. It was Khosro Parviz, the King of Persia, who had been driven from his dominions, and came to seek aid from the Emperor.

The reception of this King of Kings by Maurice was magnificent; and he consented to employ his army for the restoration of Khosro. For several days active preparations were being made, and then there was a second separation of the English boys. As the army began its march under the command of Narses, Coelred, Porlor, and Sivel bade an affectionate farewell to Lilla and Bassus, who were well mounted and followed in the general's train.

Next day Athanagild took leave of the Emperor Maurice, and made sail for Alexandria with his young English followers, and half a dozen Gothic soldiers who had been the loyal and attached followers of his father. They were to travel from Alexandria to Myos Hormos on the Red Sea, where Monas had promised to meet them with a vessel prepared for the long voyage. When the Prince fled from Toledo, he had taken with him a large amount of gold and jewels sewn up in belts, which he had carefully kept by causing his servants to wear them, and which would now enable him to equip his expedition. He and his young friends were in high spirits when the long line of white buildings, the tall Pharos rising above them, and the rows of palm trees announced that Alexandria was in sight.

CHAPTER IV

A SON OF ALARIC

The sun was pouring down its dazzling rays on rocks and sand, and on the expanse of intensely blue sea. There was nothing to relieve the eye except a line of white huts, and at some distance a grove of date–palms surrounding a well. One small vessel was at anchor. This was Myos Hormos on the Red Sea. Coelred and Porlor reclined in a shed roofed with palm leaves, near the well, while Athanagild and the Goths, drowsy with the heat, were lying about under the trees. Mounted on camels, and guided by a servant of Monas, they had crossed the desert during the nights, and had arrived on the seventh day at dawn. They now waited for the coming of Monas from the town. The boys were much changed in appearance. Their faces were bronzed by the sun, their hair close cut, and large white turbans were wound round their heads. They were dressed in white, and were armed with swords, daggers, and spears. A chatty of fresh water and a little heap of parched corn on a cloth were between them.

Coelred's eyes were closed. He opened them drowsily and said, "With my eyes shut, and the sun making the darkness almost light, I fancy that I am lying on the grass, by the brook at Stillingfleet, and almost hear the voices of Bergliot and Braga, and the barking of dear old Shuprak at the top of the hill." Porlor looked at his brother, whose eyes were filling with tears, and lovingly stroked his cheek. "My thoughts and dreams are ever with our loved ones, like yours, dear Coelred. But we must keep wide awake for the next few days," and he shook his brother by the shoulder. "We have seen enough of our companions to make that quite clear." In a very low voice Coelred said, "What think you of Athanagild?" "The Gothic Prince," replied Porlor, in a whisper, "is a brave and true warrior, and will keep his word with us, I am sure. But he is not gifted with patience or judgment, and he has embarked on an enterprise which requires both. He acts on sudden impulses, strikes before hearing a word, and his Goths follow and obey blindly. There is much to arrange now that needs forethought and care, and I feel that, although we are so many years younger, the success of this voyage will depend upon our conduct, and upon the character of the captain and pilot of whom we know nothing. In truth we have had several affrays since we landed in Egypt, and have escaped death or imprisonment mainly by good fortune, and all have been due to the quick temper of our chief." "We cannot always guide our own thoughts and actions," mused Coelred, "how much less those of our companions. So we must often leave all to chance; yet there are those who take all these things into account, weigh them, and give each its just value, and who can then offer sage counsel; and you are one, my Porlor." "I do try hard to think out the points on which our lives and fortunes depend," said the younger boy; "and truly I do so because one who is dearer to me than my own life shares my fate." They both sat up and wound their arms round each other in a brotherly embrace. As they did so they became aware of people approaching the palm grove, whose figures stood out clear against the sky. The party consisted of an erect old man with a white beard, and some black servants. "If I mistake not, this is the pilot and guide of whom we know nothing, and concerning whom it imports us much to know a great deal," said Porlor. At the same moment Coelred cried out—"Prince Athanagild, a visitor approaches."

COELRED AND PORLOR IN EGYPT

The Prince and his Goths sprang to their feet as the old man came under the shade of the trees and made a low obeisance. He introduced himself as the pilot and master who had undertaken to supply the vessel, load her with a suitable cargo, and convey the Prince to India. Funds had been duly received through the Imperial physician Alexander, and such merchandise had been purchased as there would be a demand for at the Indian port, and had been conveyed across the desert. The vessel was built at Adulis, and was owned by Monas. "Good," said the Prince; "we will sail to–day." "That cannot be," objected the old man, "for the ship is not ready and the cargo is not on board." "How long will be the delay?" "A week at least," was the answer, "and I have a long report to make." "I cannot rest here, and I cannot listen, old man. I must be at work. Action, not words, for me. I and my followers will hunt out these Arabs of the desert of whom I hear, and try their mettle while you make the ship ready." Monas protested, and explained the extreme danger of such a proceeding. "In ordinary times," he said, "there is nothing to plunder at Myos Hormos. But if the news gets abroad that a ship is loading or unloading, then indeed are the vultures gathered together. Clouds of Arabs cover the sands, and pounce down if the merchants have not sufficient force to resist them. I believe that our secret is well kept, yet the sight of you and your followers careering over the desert will at once bring the marauders about our ears." But the Prince would not listen to reason. He caused his led horses to be saddled, and his camels to be loaded with food and water, and set out with his Goths in the afternoon in search of adventures. His last words to Monas were—"These Counts" (Comites), pointing to Coelred and Porlor, "are my lieutenants, and will act for me. Their wishes are my wishes, their orders my orders." So saying, this knight–errant rode away.

Monas held up his hands with astonishment at such madness. He turned round to look at the lieutenants, and saw a boy of fifteen and another of thirteen; well grown and intelligent, no doubt, and one struck him as possessing sagacity above his years, but both very young. "Counts!" he said aloud; but to himself, "Lieutenants! The Holy Saints protect us!" and he again held up his hands, with a half–despairing gesture.

This conversation had been carried on in Greek. The boys came forward, and Porlor requested the old man to make his report, and enable them to enter upon the duties with which their friend Athanagild had entrusted them. They did this with such a quiet assumption of command, and with such combined dignity and courtesy, that Monas almost ceased to feel the incongruity of such very juvenile Counts taking the command of the enterprise, and at once entered upon his explanations and reports, with which he had come for submission to Athanagild.

Monas, in early life, had been a companion of the better–known merchant and monk Cosmas in his daring voyages. A native of Egypt, of Greek descent, his quick wit and readiness of resource had enabled him to establish commercial intercourse between ports of the Red Sea and of the west coast of India, after his master Cosmas had retired into monkish seclusion. He had acted as interpreter, when quite a young man, to the Indian embassy which brought a present of an elephant to the Emperor Justinian in 552, and he had since made several voyages to India. When the imperial physician applied to his ancient friend Cosmas, on the subject of the wish of the Gothic Prince to make a voyage to India, and forwarded a supply of money, the matter was placed in the hands of Monas. For Cosmas had quite retired from worldly concerns, though the famous geographer still survived, in a cell situated in a secluded oasis near Myos Hormos. Although the disciple was also contemplating a retirement to a monastic cell in imitation of his master, he consented to undertake one more voyage. He owned more than one vessel at Adulis, and the most seaworthy was brought up to Myos Hormos, while the articles well known to Monas as finding a ready sale in the Indian ports were purchased in the markets of Alexandria, sent up the Nile to Thebes, and conveyed across the desert with as little delay as possible, in the hope that the Arab marauders would not hear that a ship was being loaded at the deserted port of Myos Hormos.

When Coelred and Porlor walked down to the beach, they found the ruins of a considerable town, and three or four sheds consisting of stone walls with roofs of palm leaves. The small cargo was stored in them, and the crew of tall blacks was loading a boat with bales. The boys, accompanied by Monas, went on board the vessel with the first load, and found her to be a craft the like of which they had never before seen. She had a half–deck and a small cabin. Her build was like that of the pathamars on the Malabar coast, the planks being neatly secured to each other with knotted ropes, and she had two masts with lateen sails. Water was stored in large chatties carefully lashed to the ship's side, and the food, all bread and vegetables, was in sacks. The boys inquired whether there was any danger of an attack from Arabs, and Monas said that he hoped the wild young Prince would return the next evening at latest, in which case he was not likely to have encountered Arabs, and the risk would be averted.

Monas further said that it was necessary that the young Counts, as he called the boys, should visit the great navigator and geographer in his seclusion; and it was agreed that they should travel during the night. A short refreshing sleep was followed by a bathe in the sea when the sun set. Coelred, Porlor, and Monas then mounted their camels and proceeded over the desert in a south–westerly direction. After travelling for several hours, at dawn they came to a small grove of date–palms, where a stone cell of some size had been built, with a few sheds round it. This was the place to which Cosmas had retired to end his days.

On entering the grove, the visitors found a man in extreme old age, seated outside his cell almost in a state of coma. He had a long white beard, and must have been upwards of ninety years old. When Monas told him that his visitors were the adventurers who wished to undertake a voyage to India, he aroused himself. "They must consult me first," he said in a feeble but clear voice. "They must rest here and listen to what I can tell them. I am Cosmas," he continued, addressing the boys, "and my title is Indicopleustes, for I sailed to India. Give them food, and let them sit and listen to my words." Dates were set before them by a servant, and the garrulous old man continued to relate the story of his life. "I have been, in the years long gone by, a merchant who navigated the Erythraean Sea, and reached the distant ports of India. I knew the seasons, and taught Monas when the winds blew which would take us to India, and when he must spread his sails to return. It is said that Hippalus, in the days of Claudius the Emperor, first discovered the constancy of the winds in their seasons. It is true. But the credit is mine of making this knowledge useful to the world. Now the rich products of India are sold in markets within the dominions of our Emperor. This is due to me. I know all the emporia and how to reach them. I was impelled by the desire of knowledge more than by gain, though there was gain. I discovered the royal seat of white marble at Adulis. It is consecrated to Ares. There are images of Heracles and Hermes sculptured on it, and Greek letters are written on every side. Monas helped me to copy the inscription, which was caused to be put there by the great King Ptolemy Euergetes. It is all in my second book. You have read my great work?" he asked. The boys answered that they could not read. "You must learn," he went on. "It is necessary that you should read my great work. It is in twelve books, and is entitled Christian Topography. When my career was finished as a merchant going to and fro, I devoted myself to God and became a monk. Then I wrote my great book. In it I have confuted Ptolemy and all the Pagans. I have proved that the earth is a flat surface. It is an oblong plain twice as long from east to west as from north to south, and the holy city of Jerusalem is in the centre. The whole is enclosed by an ocean. I have proved it by arguments from Scripture, from the Fathers, from testimony, and from reason. There are many copies of my great work in the monasteries, in libraries, and in palaces. The Pagans are confuted." Porlor said that he would be glad if the holy monk would tell them about the voyage to India. "I am waiting for God to call me to begin a longer voyage," was the answer. "Monas knows all. I taught him." Cosmas had tired himself, and began to doze. The old man was not long for this world. He had done his work, which was to throw back science for centuries. The interview with old Cosmas Indicopleustes then came to an end, and the boys took their leave. They reached Myos Hormos a little after sunset, and were disappointed to hear that there was no news of Athanagild.

During the next few days the loading continued, but there was no sign of the Prince. At last he appeared alone, and wounded. He had had his wish. He had come upon a large party of Arabs near a well in the desert, and at once attacked them. All his Goths were killed, and he received a spear–thrust, but the Arabs had not known the extent of the losses they had inflicted, and retreated under cover of the night. He thought, however, that he had been followed by one or two horsemen, perhaps more, and he knew not whither he was going, but his horse had brought him back to the port. He was faint from loss of blood. Monas declared that they would be attacked before morning, and he took the Prince on board the vessel to examine his wound.

Coelred and Porlor, after a consultation, made the black sailors build a sort of sconce or small fort with some of the remaining bales and other materials, with an angle pointing landwards, and the two ends resting on the sea when it was high tide. They also dug a trench outside in the sand, into which the water flowed. The remaining merchandise was brought inside this extemporary intrenchment, and the loading proceeded through the night. It was calm and the moon was up. A little before dawn Coelred, who was on the watch, thought he saw dark figures cautiously creeping round the huts. The boat happened to be alongside the vessel, and there were only a few men and Porlor on shore. Coelred aroused them, and they all stood to their arms, when a sudden rush was made by a number of Arabs. The two boys stood side by side at the angle, with the sailors supporting them. Luckily it was high tide. There was a desperate struggle for the fort. The foremost assailants were hurled back by the young Englishmen with their spears. The brothers then drew their swords and began an unequal fight, supported by their men, who behaved well. More of the enemy came to the attack from behind the huts, and began to scale the enclosure. All would have been lost if, at that moment, the boat had not touched the sand. The boys retreated fighting, and were seized by their own people as the boat was shoved off. The marauders secured a small portion of the cargo, with the loss of several of their number. Two of the crew were also killed. As soon as Coelred and Porlor were on board, Monas weighed and made sail before a light northerly breeze.

The Prince's wound proved to be mortal. The loss of blood had been great, there was much exhaustion, and inflammation set in. The boys nursed him tenderly. On the third day he felt that his end was near. Porlor was supporting him, while Coelred held a cool bandage on his forehead. Monas had some skill, but the case was beyond human aid. He stood looking down on the little scene, amazed at the madness which had led to such consequences. "Farewell, my friends," said the Prince; "my folly nearly ended your lives as well as my own. You have become dear to me. I hoped that you would have been my companions in arms, and that we might have carved out an empire together. I saw that you were true and brave, worthy to be the comrades of one who is of the blood of Alaric." He paused, and his voice became weaker. He finished what he wished to say with difficulty. "I was driven from my country. Like you, I desired to return. One pleasure is left me. I can give you the means of going home." He looked at Coelred, whose cool hand, damped with water from a chatty, was on his forehead. "Take off my belt," he said. The boy hesitated. "Take it. I would see it round your waist." Coelred gently unfastened the embroidered leathern belt, which was heavy, and did with it as the dying man had told him. Athanagild smiled as if contented. "Old man," he said, with difficulty turning to Monas, "thou art my witness that I leave all I possess to my young Counts. I charge thee to safeguard them." He closed his eyes as Monas bowed low before him in token of assent. After a long pause the Prince touched the belt and said, in his corrupt Greek, "I there place the treasure close packed in secrecy. Farewell." (Ufaireo dia malki tote.) These were his last words. The boys never forgot them, and ever afterwards used the first word, which they pronounced "uvaru" for a secret hiding–place. Athanagild did not speak again, and passed away during the night.

The moon was shining brightly, and bathing the calm expanse of water with a silvery light, when the old man and the two young boys, with tears in their eyes, committed the remains of this impulsive and generous son of Alaric to the deep.

CHAPTER V

UJJAYANI

The sea was like molten silver. The burning sun blazed pitilessly down on the little vessel, which was motionless. The northerly breeze reckoned upon by Monas had failed him. They had been becalmed for days, and the water was running short. All day the boys were stretched out under a rough awning of palm leaves, panting for breath. The sky was like a dome of burnished steel. One night Porlor watched the northern horizon, and saw a bank of clouds rising, which he pointed out to the old pilot and to his brother. Soon cat's–paws were seen along the surface of the sea. Monas said there would be a breeze in the morning. But their water would not last them, unless they replenished at some well on the Arabian coast; yet this was a very perilous proceeding, for the eastern side of the Red Sea was infested by savage robbers. There was, however, no alternative, and as soon as the breeze filled his sails, Monas steered for a port called Jidda, 320 miles south of Myos Hormos. They came to off a grove of palm trees, which denoted the presence of wells, on a bright moonlight night. A short distance to the south there were a few scattered huts. When dawn broke they could see that the wells were in possession of armed men. Monas feared to land, but the boys declared they would die fighting rather than die of thirst. Well armed, and accompanied by half a dozen of the crew, Coelred and Porlor took the boat, landed, and boldly advanced towards the wells. They were met half–way by a solitary Arab, who stood in the path uttering the word "Bismillah." He was a powerful young man, about five years older than Coelred, in a long camel's–hair cloth, with the hood secured round his head by a green band. His complexion was bronzed, nose aquiline, lips rather thick, and he had piercing black eyes. He held a long spear in his right hand. Coelred said in Greek that they must have water. The young Arab replied in the same language that the wells were in his possession. He said that he was Muhammad, the son of Abdallah, servant of Abu Taleb, one of the chiefs of the Koraish of Mekka. He was commanding an expedition against the robbers who attacked the caravans of Mekka, and had defeated them and driven them from the wells of Jidda. They should have water if they paid for it—let the master of the ship come to him. Coelred sent the boat back for old Monas, and the English lads stood facing the Arab youth, all leaning on their spears. Few more words passed between them. The Arab gazed at the young Englishmen with unconcealed admiration, and the lads scanned the features of the strange being before them with feelings of curiosity and interest which they could not have explained. Monas was very agreeably surprised to find a law–maintaining force at the wells, instead of the cut–throats he expected. It was soon arranged that the vessel should be watered and replenished with some provisions, in exchange for six bales of cloth. This occupied the rest of the day. Young Muhammad and the English lads rested under the shade. The Arab's knowledge of Greek merely enabled him to strike bargains, and he could not converse, so that the time was passed, for the most part, in friendly silence. The undefinable feeling of interest which took possession of the boys when they first encountered this extraordinary man was increased as they sat near him. The expression of his countenance changed frequently, but was always remarkable. His eyes were bright and eager while he bargained with Monas; they had a soft and gentle look when they rested on the truthful faces of his companions; then again they once or twice flashed a look of fierce anger, apparently without cause. But what the boys noticed with most interest was that far–away, abstracted look which came into the Arab's eyes as he rested under the trees, as if he saw things invisible to all besides himself; and when this strange look came it lasted long. They had seen something like it in the Princess Alca, and once or twice in old Monas. But there was something in the Arab's look which was peculiar to himself: it was as if madness mingled in his strange abstraction; and when he shook it off, it was with a glance of fury. The boys were quite absorbed by their companion, and when Monas called them away the sun was already on the horizon. They took leave of each other with solemn courtesy, and an hour afterwards the vessel was under weigh and sailing down the Red Sea with a fresh northerly breeze. The boys talked long over their encounter with this strange being, and never forgot it. The makers of England and the false prophet had this wonderful meeting before the serious work of their lives was begun. It taught the English boys to recognise a man with deep convictions, and to distinguish between real fanaticism and fraud. It elevated the fanciful conceptions of the Arab, and when he dreamt of angels he saw the faces of Coelred and of Porlor.

COELRED AND PORLOR ON THEIR WAY TO THE WELLS

The breeze continued, the air was cooler, and Monas said that they would soon reach their next stopping–place, the emporium of Ocelis. By this time he knew the whole history of his young companions. They had never thought for a moment of turning back after the death of the Gothic Prince, but were quite resolved to complete their adventure before returning to Antioch; and the old man, without any tie of his own, had become warmly attached to them. He would give them the use of his knowledge and experience, see them safe again on their way home, and then follow his master Cosmas into monastic seclusion.

Many a long conversation was held between the boys and their aged friend during the long starlight nights, when the little vessel made her way over the smooth sea to Ocelis. One night they talked of the young Arab and his look of abstraction. "It is the look," said Monas, "which betokens fitness for a life of seclusion, of devotion to prayer, and thoughts of eternity. The monks often have it, and the generation in which I live is one much given to a monkish life. It is only in such a life that we can find rest, safety from hell fire, and that religious truth without which there is no safety. In Egypt alone there are now six hundred monasteries, all maintaining the truth against the errors of Rome." "And what is the truth?" asked Porlor. "The truth is," said Monas, "that Christ existed of two natures, and whosoever denies it shall for ever be accursed. The Synod of Chalcedon, when Marcian was emperor, declared that Christ existed in two natures, and this wicked heresy is still held by the priests of Rome, and sends many souls to hell. Dangers and pitfalls of false doctrine surround us, and the only safety from them is in monastic seclusion. Young and old should fly to the desert." "That will I never do," cried Coelred. "My life shall be active and earnest. I devote it to brave deeds and to the service of my countrymen." Old Monas shook his head, but he could not help admiring, and even approving, the very different direction to which the hopes and aspirations of his young friends were turned. They understood his words, but their minds were not trained to receive such subtleties. "Does Muhammad hold the truth," asked Porlor, "or is he, like us, ignorant of the true nature of the Son of God? We are ignorant because what you say is beyond our comprehension. How is it with that Arab warrior with the changing eyes?" "The Arab," said Monas, "is a very young man, and he is a heathen. But he has been in Christian cities with merchants of his tribe, and knows something of the truth. I talked with him in the shade while you slept." "We were not asleep," protested the boys. "Fast asleep," repeated Monas, "while I sounded the depths of the young Arab's mind. He is no ordinary man. He will either receive the truth and convert Arabia into a land of saints, or he will be the mightiest heresiarch with which the world has ever been cursed, spreading desolation and moral death over what once was Christendom. But not in my time," drowsily continued the old man. Coelred rose to take the helm, and Porlor followed Monas to the land of dreams.

It was not often that Monas kept the boys awake with such serious discourse. He generally related the stirring events in his voyages with Cosmas, taught them the rules of steering by the stars, and told of the famous book written in the time of the Emperor Nero, and called the Periplus of the Erythraean Sea, from which Cosmas gleaned much of the information which enabled him to make his voyages successfully. The northerly wind soon brought them to the emporium of Ocelis, near the strait of Dere, which opens upon the Erythraean Sea. Here they again took in water and provisions, proceeding along the Arabian coast to Kane, a port of considerable trade, where some of the merchandise was exchanged for frankincense and aloes. Sailing onwards to the east, they reached Syagros, whence, in accordance with the directions laid down by his master, Monas proceeded to make his bold voyage across the trackless ocean to distant India. The south–west wind, called Hippalus from the pilot who first attempted the passage by it, carried the little vessel across the sea until, in a few days, the coast of Guzerat was sighted, the mouth of the great river Narbada was entered, and Monas piloted her past islands and shoals, and anchored her off the ghât of the busy port of Barugaza.

Founded by the sage Bhriga, the town of Barugaza was one of the oldest seaports of Western India, and was then one of the chief seats of trade. Its exports were cotton, a kind of fine calico called báftás, bdellium, and flowers of the mahina tree. Barugaza is on an artificial hill 60 feet high overlooking the river, the only rising ground for many miles around; for a flat alluvial plain of fertile black soil stretches away for fifty miles to the foot of the mountains, covered with crops of cotton and rice. Here and there a clump of mango and other fruit trees denoted the position of a village, and on an island in the Narbada there was a banyan–tree with 350 large and 3000 small stems, enclosing a space 700 yards in circumference.

There was much to astonish, much to interest, the English lads on first landing at the ghât of Barugaza. They had seen an elephant at Alexandria, but everything else was strange to them; especially the dresses of the people, the merchants in their snow–white robes and red turbans, and the crowds of coolies with nothing but a dhuti round their waists, carrying heavy loads, and taking cargoes on board the boats. Kesava was the name of the merchant who always acted as agent for Monas when he brought a cargo to Barugaza; and this was the fifth time he had made the voyage, without counting those in which he accompanied Cosmas. Before they were contaminated by intercourse with Europeans, the merchants of India were celebrated for their probity and fair dealing; and Kesava was a good specimen of his class. Property could be entrusted to his care with perfect confidence, and he took charge of the vessel and the crew, while Monas and the boys were to convey their merchandise up country to Ujjayani, one of the seven sacred cities of the Hindus, the famous capital of Malwa.

Monas set out on his journey a few days after his arrival at Barugaza. He and the boys travelled in open palkis, their bales of goods were slung on bamboos which were borne on the shoulders of coolies, and they were guarded by a well–equipped body of fighting men. They travelled up stream, along the right bank of the Narbada, for 180 miles, to a small town called Mandlesar, where the river is still 500 yards in width. Thence the route turned northwards across the Vindhya Hills for a distance of seventy miles to Ujjayani. Coelred and Porlor walked across the hills, travelling from midnight until sunrise, and on the third day from leaving Mandlesar they entered the far–famed capital of Malwa. Along this road the English lads observed that long lines of trees were planted to afford shade to travellers from the scorching rays of the sun, while at intervals there were fountains by the road–side to enable them to quench their thirst. Porlor, especially, was deeply impressed with the excellence of a government which took such thought for the comfort of its people.

The city of Ujjayani was built on the right bank of the river Sipra, with ghâts leading down to the water. It was very extensive, and contained many grand edifices, besides the famous temple of Siva and the palace of the Raja. There were, however, more trees than houses. Every dwelling had its shady garden stocked with flowering shrubs, and round the city there was a broad belt of fruit trees, and avenues of the sacred vata or peepul trees, frequented by the Hanuman monkeys. Within this belt of foliage were the great tanks with bathing ghâts shaded by clumps of tall trees, above which rose the spreading fans of the palmyra palm and the graceful areca; while palása and tulasi shrubs, with their gorgeous flowers, concealed the bathers.

The golden age of Hindu literature was the period when Vikramaditya ruled at Ujjayani about B.C. 57, and when the "Nava–ratna" or nine gems of literature flourished there. His dynasty still ruled over Malwa, and in 592 Jayachandra was the Raja. The place was full of traditions of the hero king, and of his divine poet Kalidasa, whose immortal works had the freshness and reality at Ujjayani which such poems can only really possess at the place where they were composed. The bright river Sipra, the flowering groves, the pretty girls descending the ghâts with lotas on their heads, the cranes in the paddy swamps—all nature reminded the votaries of Kalidasa that he dwelt at the court of Ujjayani when he wrote Sakuntala, the Seasons, and the Cloud Messenger. Peace reigned in Malwa, but there were threatening clouds on the northern horizon. Gollas, King of the White Huns, had overrun Northern India, and terror repeated marvellous stories of the prowess of his army, which included 2000 elephants. It was said that, when he besieged a town, his soldiers drank all the water in the ditch, and then marched dry–shod to beat down the walls. It was to this conqueror that Athanagild had contemplated the offer of his sword; but Coelred and Porlor had no such intention. Ujjayani was to be the remotest point of their wanderings, whence they were to return homewards.

Monas was busily engaged in exchanging the merchandise for bales of small bulk, containing fine calico and muslin, valuable gums, spices, precious stones, and specie. Among his acquaintance there was an old Guru named Govinda, who had travelled far and spoke Greek. He was a man of profound learning though of Sudra caste, and was passing the evening of his days at Ujjayani, occupied in speculative studies. Govinda had taken a great fancy for the English lads, whose bright intelligence and simple truthfulness first attracted his regard. After their bath in one of the great tanks, they often passed hours conversing with the Guru, asking him questions, and listening to his wonderful discourse. He was generally in the verandah of a small garden–house near a large tank, which was surrounded by flowering shrubs, and shaded by a large vata tree. Here the Guru sat, an old man with a very benevolent expression and high intellectual forehead, clothed in snow–white robes, often with a bundle of reeds forming a book, and a kalam in his hand. Coelred and Porlor reclined on a step at his side, listening eagerly to what he told them. The boys were in perfect health, being well cared for by Monas as regards clothing and protection from the sun and from chills, and living on a diet of rice and pulses duly seasoned, on fruits, and milk. They were thus able to enjoy to the full all the wonders of their sojourn at Ujjayani.

The Guru had told them many tales of Hindu gods and heroes. One morning the boys came from their bath with a quantity of crimson water–lilies, and a handful of the golden–coloured champaka flower, sacred to Krishna. This led Govinda to tell them the story of the avatur, calling Krishna the Son of God. They, in their turn, related the legend of Balder, and, after reflecting a while, the Guru said that Balder and Krishna were one, and that both were Christ. Remembering the conversation with Monas, Porlor asked whether this Son of God with several names, whom they all worshipped, existed of two natures or in two natures. "Both," replied the Guru, and this bold solution appeared at once to sweep away the motives for religious disputes which sounded so incomprehensible to the boys. "Both, for whether of or in two natures, the incarnation of a deity embraces and contains, and in fact is, all that can be expressed by prepositions, and much more."

Then, descending from such sublime speculations, he said that he would relate to his young friends the sequel of the story of the Pandavas, those princes favoured by Krishna, including their search for heaven after a long life of adventures and vicissitudes. The Pandavas found that all the rewards of this life were vanity, and that they must seek for higher and better things. "We must all do likewise sooner or later, and meanwhile we may reflect on the story of the Pandavas," he went on. "There were five princes—Yudisthira, Arjuna, Bhima, and the two sons of Madri. They set out with their wife Draupadi and their dog Suparaka." "That is the name of our dear old dog at home!" exclaimed Coelred. "True," said the Guru, "for Suparaka is Yama." He continued—"The princes, with their beautiful wife and faithful dog, set out for the mighty Himalaya Mountains, to find the heaven of the gods on Mount Meru." "Is not Asgard the abode of the gods?" interrupted Coelred. "Asgard is Meru," explained the long–suffering Guru; "but few can reach it, trusting in their own strength. Sins and moral defects prove fatal to the pilgrims. They toiled on over scorching plains and snowy mountains, tired and foot–sore. Draupadi was the first to fall." Porlor asked why she should be the first. "Her love for Arjuna was too great," explained the Guru. "Next fell one of the sons of Madri, for he thought that none was equal to himself; and the other son of Madri followed, for he had the same fault. Then Arjuna fell, because he could not fulfil his boast that he would destroy all his enemies in one day. Bhima fell, because he cursed his opponents before he encountered them in fight. Yudisthira and the dog Suparaka alone reached the gate of heaven. The Prince was invited by the gods to enter, but he refused unless Draupadi and his brothers were also received. He was assured that they were already there. But he still refused, unless the faithful dog Suparaka could bear him company. The gods remonstrated, but Yudisthira was firm. 'Never, come weal or come woe, will I abandon that faithful dog.' He prevailed, but when he entered he found that Draupadi and his brothers were not in heaven. They cried to him for help from hell. Yudisthira triumphed in the crowning trial. He resolved to share the fate of his dear ones in hell, rather than enjoy heaven without them. This was the supreme test applied by the gods. They then showed him that it was all maya or illusion, and the brothers, Draupadi, and the dog dwell in heaven with the gods, in full content of heart for ever."

Coelred and Porlor talked much over this story of Yudisthira when they returned that evening to their home with Monas. They loved the Pandu prince for standing by the good dog Suparaka, and they swore that they would imitate the steadfast loyalty of Yudisthira.

Thus the days passed on, while Monas completed his business, and the Guru related many strange tales to the English lads. One day, as they sat with him, a dark mass of cloud rose from the southern horizon, and moved rapidly northwards across the sky towards the Himalayan snows. Old Govinda pointed to it, and said that it reminded him of Kalidasa's poem of the Cloud Messenger. "Tell us about it," said both the boys; and he related how Yaksha was banished for some fault by the god Kuvera, and was sent to pass the years of his exile at Ramagiri, near Nagpore, and to the south of Ujjayani, and of the Vindhyan Hills. One day he saw a cloud, the herald of the rainy season, passing to the north, just as the cloud we now see floats in the same direction. He prayed to the cloud to take a message for him, after discharging some of its moisture.

With pinions swifter by the 'minisht store,
Soon over Vindhyan mountains thou wilt soar,
And Reva's rippling stream, whose waters glide
Beneath their feet, without their rush and roar,
In many a rock–bound channel, summer dried,

Like lines of paint that deck an elephant's huge side.

The cloud passed on to this bright imperial city of Ujjayani, the pride of all the earth. It rested on flower–sweet terraces where women sit at open casements, while the air of the morning

Plays wooingly around the loosened hair
And fevered cheek—
Then, as it blows o'er Sipra fresh and strong,
Bids all her swans upon the banks prepare
To hail the sunrise.

"The cloud hurries onward on its journey," said Porlor, "but whither was Yaksha's message sent?" "It was sent," said the Guru, "to Alakà." "To Alca!" exclaimed both the boys, as they sprang to their feet in astonishment. Then, seeing the question in Govinda's eyes, they explained that Alca was the beautiful Princess of Deira. "We love her more than anything in the world. She knows everything. She loves all living things. She can disclose all the hidden mysteries of nature. She is our joy, our hope. Oh that the cloud would take a message to her from us! Shall we pray to it? Answer us, good Govinda."

The Guru looked at the eager faces of the boys. He then pondered for a long time. At last he said—"The Alakà of our religion is believed to be the abode or the heaven of the Gandharva on Mount Meru. The Gandharva is the being who knows and reveals the secrets of nature and divine truth, and prepares the holy soma juice for the gods." He again paused to think. "Your northern Princess Alca is the same as our Alakà, the abode of the Gandharva of wisdom and truth, the depository of the secrets of nature. You do well to love her. Pray then to the cloud and it will take your message." The boys knelt down, praying long and fervently to the cloud to take their message. It was that they were well, that they had never forgotten her words, that they would return to her. The Guru assured them that they had not prayed in vain. They had never felt so happy since they parted from the Princess at Aldby.

Not many days afterwards they bade farewell to the Guru, who had become warmly attached to them; for Monas had completed his arrangements, the bales were ready, and they started on their return journey to Barugaza. The boys had offered their old friend a gold ring as a keepsake, which he declined. But when he saw them for the last time he gave them a small parcel as an offering for their Princess. "It contains," he said, "a very precious gum called bdellium, translucent and fragrant. It is a trifle by which to remember me." "We shall never forget you, dear Guru," exclaimed Coelred; and Porlor declared that "Bdellium" should be their watchword and the watchword of their friends for evermore. Soon Ujjayani and the Guru, Barugaza and its busy ghât, were but memories. The north–east wind was taking their little vessel homewards again across the Erythraean Sea.

One night, as old Monas sat aft by the steering oar, with Coelred and Porlor near him, he asked the boys what they had been told by the Guru. Porlor was full of his praises, and repeated the stories of Krishna and of the Pandus; but something held the brothers back from mentioning the Cloud Messenger to the aged pilot. They declared that the Guru was the wisest, the most learned, and the most religious man in the world, and that he was beloved by God. "The strange and incomprehensible questions over which others quarrel for days and years, the Guru sees through and settles with a word. He is generous, and says that all men, more or less, are in the right way." Monas shook his head. "My friend Govinda," he said, "is learned and good. It grieves me to the heart that he will assuredly be burnt in hell fire for ever and ever. Yet that must be his fate, for he is unsound on all points of doctrine." It was on the tip of Coelred's tongue to say he would go where the Guru went; but he checked himself, for the boys loved old Monas, and made it a point not to anger or annoy him. "Beware," he continued, "how you allow plausible falsehoods to sink into your hearts. You are very young and will be surrounded by dangers. May the Lord watch over you!"

On another night Monas explained their position to his young friends. "Thanks to Prince Athanagild," he said, "you are very rich. Your property consists of small bales easily carried but of great value, and of gold coins and gems. The crew will be amply recompensed by a present of the vessel and a generous distribution of money. We will land at Berenike, to which port the voyage is much shorter than to Myos Hormos. There camels can be procured, and the journey to the Nile will occupy three days. I will accompany you to Alexandria and see you embarked for Antioch. For myself I need nothing. I go to the cell of my old master, who must now be dead, where I shall end my days happily, in prayer and in the contemplation of the true nature of the incarnate Word. Your destiny is very different. I am on the verge of the grave. You are entering upon life. You are brave and true. May the blessing of God be with you!"

It was very grateful to the old pilot to receive the warm thanks of his young friends, knowing how true and genuine they were; and the voyage passed pleasantly. The plans of Monas were admirably arranged. The crew was satisfied, the journey across the desert and the voyage down the Nile were performed without accident, and when Coelred and Porlor left Alexandria in the vessel that was to convey them to the port of Antioch, the last thing they saw was the white cloth with which old Monas waved his farewell from the Pharos.

CHAPTER VI

IRAN

Sivel was a very intelligent and quick–witted boy, and he rapidly learnt all his companions could teach him in the treasury office at Antioch and in the mint. He was able to read and write, and had even tried his hand on the dies for stamping coins. The decadence of art had been very rapid since the days of Gallienus. All attempts at portraiture on the coins had disappeared, though there was still a head, and an angel with orb and cross on the reverse. It was not beyond the powers of a clever boy like Sivel to tool the inscriptions, and even to copy the rough effigy of the good Emperor. Not a few of the rude letters traced on Byzantine money of this period are the work of our English boy:

ti mavricivs imp an ix cos
dn mavricivs pp avg,

or

dn mavric tiber pf avg;

and he was thus busily employed when the news spread that troops from the Persian war were returning. Sivel lived, with several Greek clerks in the employment of the Count of the Sacred Largesses, in a large room opening on a court which formed part of the palace. As he worked one day, two tall forms stood in the doorway, and in another moment the delighted boy was wrapped in the tight embraces of Lilla and Bassus, who had returned unhurt from the war, and with license to proceed on their own affairs to Rome. Many days had not elapsed before Coelred and Porlor, with their small but precious bales, also reached the Syrian capital and found a safe place—an "uvaru" they called it—in which to bestow their goods for the time. The lads were beside themselves with joy at meeting once more, and they agreed that all, including Sivel, should embark in the first vessel bound for Brundusium.

They longed to hear each other's stories, and when Porlor had related the particulars of the wonderful voyage to India and back, Lilla promised, with the help of his friend Bassus, to describe what they had seen during the Persian war. On the next evening they assembled under the shade of the grove of palm trees, outside the city gate, whence they had beheld the arrival of Khosro Parviz before their adventures began. Bassus first explained the cause of the war. "On the dethronement and death of Hormazd IV., King of Persia," he said, "there was great confusion. Bahram, the ablest of the Persian generals, gained over the army and seized the government, while the King's son, Khosro Parviz, took refuge in Roman territory. We all witnessed his arrival at Antioch from this very spot, and we know that the Emperor graciously resolved to restore the fugitive prince to the throne of his ancestors. He was influenced in making this decision partly by policy, but mainly, it is believed, by the generous dictates of his imperial nature. Our master in the art of war, the great General Narses, received the commands of the Emperor Maurice to execute his orders, and he planned the campaign with consummate skill. It was known that Bahram, with the Persian army, was posted in the Mesopotamian plain beyond the river Tigris, and not far from the foot of the mountains. Narses resolved that the Roman forces should enter Persia in two divisions. The General himself, accompanied by the King of Persia, led the main body from Antioch to the Tigris, while a Roman contingent, under the command of John, the Prefect of Armenia, was to create a diversion by breaking into the northern Persian province of Azerbijan. For Narses had carefully studied the science of tactics and evolutions under the eye of the Emperor, who was himself the author of twelve books on the military art. You saw the army commence its march, and we parted in the earnest hope that this happy day of meeting again would not be long deferred. Lilla must now tell you of our march."

The thread of the story was then taken up by the fearless son of Guthlaf. "As pages of the General," said Lilla, "we rode behind him, and encamped near his tent. For several days we had to traverse a vast desert, and we were often parched with thirst; but at length we reached the river Tigris, passing over it near a great mound which, we were told, covers the ruins of the most ancient city in the world, called Nineveh. Crossing the river, our General made three rapid marches to overtake the Persians, who were encamped at the foot of the mountains. Then the wisdom of the strategy of Narses was made clear. Hearing of the march of the Armenian contingent, the Persian General feared lest it should fall on his rear, and he began a rapid march to the northward to attack it. But the Prefect John had strict orders to avoid an encounter; and eventually Bahram made a countermarch to cover the city of Canzaca, towards which Narses was steadily advancing. Leaving the plain, our way led us through the mountains of Media, to Sirgàn, on the plain of Ushneï, where a junction was formed with John's contingent. Three days afterwards a great battle was fought in a hilly country. For a time the Roman infantry fell back before the vigorous charges of Persian horse, and Narses himself dashed into the thick of the battle. We fought by his side, and when the victory was won the General was so pleased with us that he gave us separate commands of infantry companies. Next morning Bahram continued his retreat over the mountains, closely pursued by us, and at night we pitched our camp close to the Persian position. Still retreating, the Persians descended into the plain in which their great city of Canzaca is built on a high rock. Here the final and decisive battle was fought. Bassus and I led on our men, and were long engaged in desperate encounters side by side. At last we saw the enemy flying in all directions. But we were too exhausted to follow them, and rested for three days on the battle–field. Our General then occupied the Persian city of Canzaca.

"Khosro Parviz was overjoyed. Our army had made him once more King of Kings, or Malkân Malkâ. He declared that the Emperor Maurice was his father, requested a contingent of the Romans to remain in his service, and promised great rewards to the rest. For a short time we were posted in the wonderful city where the people worship fire which has been kept burning for 700 years." Porlor and Coelred had both been too absorbed in the story of the campaign to interrupt with questions, but now Porlor asked whether fire was really the god of those people. "Yes," said Bassus, "we saw them worshipping before it. Canzaca is on a hill which rises high above the plain, with a steep acclivity to the north and west, and a sloping approach from the east. The brow of this hill is crowned by a circlet of strong stone walls 12 feet wide, extending for a great distance, with an arched gateway also of massive hewn stone, leading into the town. In the highest part of the town there is a lake, 300 paces round, with exquisitely clear water of a deep blue colour, which has no bottom. And now I come to your question about the fire. Near the lake there stands a fire–temple—pyraeum the Greeks call it. Built of bricks and cement, its walls are of great thickness, and a narrow vaulted passage surrounds the central chamber. This chamber has a great arch on each of its sides, and is surmounted by a circular dome on which the stars of heaven are painted. A silver moon is on the highest point. In the centre of this chamber is the altar with the sacred fire. We have seen the King, Khosro Parviz, enthroned there, surrounded by emblems of the sun and moon, with the golden globe on his head, while all his people prayed to the flame on the altar."

"We used to sit on the walls," said Lilla, "and look over a vast extent of country bounded by distant mountains. At our feet there was a winding rocky ridge, the height of two men and 80 paces long, called 'the Dragon.' We were told that the monster was coming open–mouthed to devour the city when it was suddenly transformed into stone by the potent spell of the signet ring of an ancient king they call Solomon. Certainly it was lying on the plain before us, like a winding serpent of stone. We were offered commands by the King of Persia, which we declined, and the General then said that we deserved some reward and might name it. So we asked for license to go to Rome, where friends urgently needed our presence, which was granted. Narses said that he was sorry to part with us when we took leave, and we set out with a small escort. We had to cross the Median mountains to reach the plains of Mesopotamia, and in the pass my Bassus was so badly hurt by a fall with his horse that we had to remain at a place called Sideh for several days." "Did they also worship fire in that place?" asked Porlor. "No," said Lilla, "they had a stranger worship. They believe in an ancient bird called the Simùrg, which has been alive since the world began. Passing to and fro over the earth from the beginning, the Simùrg has seen everything. It therefore knows everything, and is a bird of great wisdom. Its counsel is sought for, but it is seldom seen, and its abode is believed to be on the mountain peak of Demavend. They worship a figure of the Simùrg made of silver, which we saw. It was on a raised platform, and has a swelling breast, small head, and wide–spreading tail. Two lamps are always burning before it, and close by there is a jug filled with water, to be used as a spell for the sick and afflicted when the Simùrg cannot be consulted in person. As soon as Bassus was well enough we left Sideh, descended into the plain, and, after a long and tedious journey, arrived at Antioch without further accident."