Part 8 (1/2)

”My father,” said Harold, mournfully, ”returns to his own earldom; and of all our House you will have but the mild face of your queen by your side!”

The King's lip writhed at that hinted rebuke, or implied consolation.

”Edith the Queen,” he said, after a slight pause, ”is pious and good; and she hath never gainsaid my will, and she hath set before her as a model the chaste Susannah, as I, unworthy man, from youth upward, have walked in the pure steps of Joseph [123]. But,” added the King, with a touch of human feeling in his voice, ”canst thou not conceive, Harold, thou who art a warrior, what it would be to see ever before thee the face of thy deadliest foe--the one against whom all thy struggles of life and death had turned into memories of hyssop and gall?”

”My sister!” exclaimed Harold, in indignant amaze, ”My sister thy deadliest foe! She who never once murmured at neglect, disgrace--she whose youth hath been consumed in prayers for thee and thy realm--my sister! O King, I dream?”

”Thou dreamest not, carnal man,” said the King, peevishly. ”Dreams are the gifts of the saints, and are not granted to such as thou! Dost thou think that, in the prune of my manhood, I could have youth and beauty forced on my sight, and hear man's law and man's voice say, 'They are thine, and thine only,' and not feel that war was brought to my hearth, and a snare set on my bed, and that the fiend had set watch on my soul? Verily, I tell thee, man of battle, that thou hast known no strife as awful as mine, and achieved no victory as hard and as holy. And now, when my beard is silver, and the Adam of old is expelled at the precincts of death; now, thinkest thou, that I can be reminded of the strife and temptation of yore, without bitterness and shame; when days were spent in fasting, and nights in fierce prayer; and in the face of woman I saw the devices of Satan?”

Edward coloured as he spoke, and his voice trembled with the accents of what seemed hate. Harold gazed on him mutely, and felt that at last he had won the secret that had ever perplexed him, and that in seeking to be above the humanity of love, the would-be saint had indeed turned love into the hues of hate--a thought of anguish, and a memory of pain.

The King recovered himself in a few moments, and said, with some dignity, ”But G.o.d and his saints alone should know the secrets of the household. What I have said was wrung from me. Bury it in thy heart. Leave me, then, Harold, sith so it must be. Put thine earldom in order, attend to the monasteries and the poor, and return soon. As for Algar, what sayest thou?”

”I fear me,” answered the large-souled Harold, with a victorious effort of justice over resentment, ”that if you reject his suit you will drive him into some perilous extremes. Despite his rash and proud spirit, he is brave against foes, and beloved by the ceorls, who oft like best the frank and hasty spirit. Wherefore some power and lords.h.i.+p it were wise to give, without dispossessing others, and not more wise than due, for his father served you well.”

”And hath endowed more houses of G.o.d than any earl in the kingdom. But Algar is no Leofric. We will consider your words and heed them. Bless you, beau frere! and send in the cheapman. The thumb of St. Jude! What a gift to my new church of St. Peter! The thumb of St. Jude! Non n.o.bis gloria! Sancta Maria! The thumb of St. Jude!”

BOOK V.

DEATH AND LOVE.

CHAPTER I.

Harold, without waiting once more to see Edith, nor even taking leave of his father, repaired to Dunwich [124], the capital of his earldom. In his absence, the King wholly forgot Algar and his suit; and in the mean while the only lords.h.i.+ps at his disposal, Stigand, the grasping bishop, got from him without an effort. In much wrath, Earl Algar, on the fourth day, a.s.sembling all the loose men-at-arms he could find around the metropolis, and at the head of a numerous disorderly band, took his way into Wales, with his young daughter Aldyth, to whom the crown of a Welch king was perhaps some comfort for the loss of the fair Earl; though the rumour ran that she had long since lost her heart to her father's foe.

Edith, after a long homily from the King, returned to Hilda; nor did her G.o.dmother renew the subject of the convent. All she said on parting, was, ”Even in youth the silver cord may be loosened, and the golden bowl may be broken; and rather perhaps in youth than in age, when the heart has grown hard, wilt thou recall with a sigh my counsels.”

G.o.dwin had departed to Wales; all his sons were at their several lords.h.i.+ps; Edward was left alone to his monks and relic-venders. And so months pa.s.sed.

Now it was the custom with the old kings of England to hold state and wear their crowns thrice a year, at Christmas, at Easter, and at Whitsuntide; and in those times their n.o.bles came round them, and there was much feasting and great pomp.

So, in the Easter of the year of our Lord 1053, King Edward kept his court at Windsh.o.r.e [125], and Earl G.o.dwin and his sons, and many others of high degree, left their homes to do honour to the King. And Earl G.o.dwin came first to his house in London--near the Tower Palatine, in what is now called the Fleet--and Harold the Earl, and Tostig, and Leofwine, and Gurth, were to meet him there, and go thence, with the full state of their sub-thegns, and cnehts, and house-carles, their falcons, and their hounds, as become men of such rank, to the court of King Edward.

Earl G.o.dwin sate with his wife, Githa, in a room out of the Hall, which looked on the Thames,--awaiting Harold, who was expected to arrive ere nightfall. Gurth had ridden forth to meet his brother, and Leofwine and Tostig had gone over to Southwark, to try their band-dogs on the great bear, which had been brought from the north a few days before, and was said to have hugged many good hounds to death, and a large train of thegns and house-carles had gone with them to see the sport; so that the old Earl and his lady the Dane sate alone. And there was a cloud upon Earl G.o.dwin's large forehead, and he sate by the fire, spreading his hands before it, and looking thoughtfully on the flame, as it broke through the smoke which burst out into the cover, or hole in the roof. And in that large house there were no less than three ”covers,” or rooms, wherein fires could be lit in the centre of the floor; and the rafters above were blackened with the smoke; and in those good old days, ere chimneys, if existing, were much in use, ”poses, and rheumatisms, and catarrhs,” were unknown, so wholesome and healthful was the smoke. Earl G.o.dwin's favourite hound, old, like himself, lay at his feet, dreaming, for it whined and was restless. And the Earl's old hawk, with its feathers all stiff and spa.r.s.e, perched on the dossal of the Earl's chair and the floor was pranked with rushes and sweet herbs--the first of the spring; and Githa's feet were on her stool, and she leaned her proud face on the small hand which proved her descent from the Dane, and rocked herself to and fro, and thought of her son Wolnoth in the court of the Norman.

”Githa,” at last said the Earl, ”thou hast been to me a good wife and a true, and thou hast borne me tall and bold sons, some of whom have caused us sorrow, and some joy; and in sorrow and in joy we have but drawn closer to each other. Yet when we wed thou wert in thy first youth, and the best part of my years was fled; and thou wert a Dane and I a Saxon; and thou a king's niece, and now a king's sister, and I but tracing two descents to thegn's rank.”

Moved and marvelling at this touch of sentiment in the calm earl, in whom indeed such sentiment was rare, Githa roused herself from her musings, and said, simply and anxiously: ”I fear my lord is not well, that he speaks thus to Githa!”

The Earl smiled faintly.

”Thou art right with thy woman's wit, wife. And for the last few weeks, though I said it not to alarm thee, I have had strange noises in my ears, and a surge, as of blood, to the temples.”

”O G.o.dwin! dear spouse,” said Githa, tenderly, ”and I was blind to the cause, but wondered why there was some change in thy manner! But I will go to Hilda to-morrow; she hath charms against all disease.”

”Leave Hilda in peace, to give her charms to the young; age defies Wigh and Wicca. Now hearken to me. I feel that my thread is nigh spent, and, as Hilda would say, my Fylgia forewarns me that we are about to part. Silence, I say, and hear me. I have done proud things in my day; I have made kings and built thrones, and I stand higher in England than ever thegn or earl stood before. I would not, Githa, that the tree of my house, planted in the storm, and watered with lavish blood, should wither away.”

The old Earl paused, and Githa said, loftily: ”Fear not that thy name will pa.s.s from the earth, or thy race from power. For fame has been wrought by thy hands, and sons have been born to thy embrace; and the boughs of the tree thou hast planted shall live in the sunlight when we its roots, O my husband, are buried in the earth.”

”Githa,” replied the Earl, ”thou speakest as the daughter of kings and the mother of men; but listen to me, for my soul is heavy. Of these our sons, or first-born, alas! is a wanderer and outcast--Sweyn, once the beautiful and brave; and Wolnoth, thy darling, is a guest in the court of the Norman, our foe. Of the rest, Gurth is so mild and so calm, that I predict without fear that he will be warrior of fame, for the mildest in hall are ever the boldest in field. But Gurth hath not the deep wit of these tangled times; and Leofwine is too light, and Tostig too fierce. So wife mine, of these our six sons, Harold alone, dauntless as Tostig, mild as Gurth, hath his father's thoughtful brain. And, if the King remains as aloof as now from his royal kinsman, Edward the Atheling, who”--the Earl hesitated and looked round--”who so near to the throne when I am no more, as Harold, the joy of the ceorls, and the pride of the thegns?--he whose tongue never falters in the Witan, and whose arm never yet hath known defeat in the field?”

Githa's heart swelled, and her cheek grew flushed.

”But what I fear the most,” resumed the Earl, ”is, not the enemy without, but the jealousy within. By the side of Harold stands Tostig, rapacious to grasp, but impotent to hold--able to ruin, strengthless to save.”

”Nay, G.o.dwin, my lord, thou wrongest our handsome son.”

”Wife, wife,” said the Earl, stamping his foot, ”hear me and obey me; for my words on earth may be few, and while thou gainsayest me the blood mounts to my brain, and my eyes see through a cloud.”

”Forgive me, sweet lord,” said Githa, humbly.

”Mickle and sore it repents me that in their youth I spared not the time from my worldly ambition to watch over the hearts of my sons; and thou wert too proud of the surface without, to look well to the workings within, and what was once soft to the touch is now hard to the hammer. In the battle of life the arrows we neglect to pick up, Fate, our foe, will store in her quiver; we have armed her ourselves with the shafts--the more need to beware with the s.h.i.+eld. Wherefore, if thou survivest me, and if, as I forebode, dissension break out between Harold and Tostig, I charge thee by memory of our love, and reverence for my grave, to deem wise and just all that Harold deems just and wise. For when G.o.dwin is in the dust, his House lives alone in Harold. Heed me now, and heed ever. And so, while the day yet lasts, I will go forth into the marts and the guilds, and talk with the burgesses, and smile on their wives, and be, to the last, G.o.dwin the smooth and the strong.”

So saying; the old Earl arose, and walked forth with a firm step; and his old hound sprang up, p.r.i.c.ked its ears, and followed him; the blinded falcon turned its head towards the clapping door, but did not stir from the dossel.

Then Githa again leant her cheek on her hand, and again rocked herself to and fro, gazing into the red flame of the fire,--red and fitful through the blue smoke,--and thought over her lord's words. It might be the third part of an hour after G.o.dwin had left the house, when the door opened, and Githa, expecting the return of her sons, looked up eagerly, but it was Hilda, who stooped her head under the vault of the door; and behind Hilda came two of her maidens, bearing a small cyst, or chest. The Vala motioned to her attendants to lay the cyst at the feet of Githa, and that done, with lowly salutation they left the room.

The superst.i.tions of the Danes were strong in Githa; and she felt an indescribable awe when Hilda stood before her, the red light playing on the Vala's stern marble face, and contrasting robes of funereal black. But, with all her awe, Githa, who, not educated like her daughter Edith, had few feminine resources, loved the visits of her mysterious kinswoman. She loved to live her youth over again in discourse on the wild customs and dark rites of the Dane; and even her awe itself had the charm which the ghost tale has to the child;--for the illiterate are ever children. So, recovering her surprise, and her first pause, she rose to welcome the Vala, and said: ”Hail, Hilda, and thrice hail! The day has been warm and the way long; and, ere thou takest food and wine, let me prepare for thee the bath for thy form, or the bath for thy feet. For as sleep to the young, is the bath to the old.”

Hilda shook her head.

”Bringer of sleep am I, and the baths I prepare are in the halls of Valhalla. Offer not to the Vala the bath for mortal weariness, and the wine and the food meet for human guests. Sit thee down, daughter of the Dane, and thank thy new G.o.ds for the past that hath been thine. Not ours is the present, and the future escapes from our dreams; but the past is ours ever, and all eternity cannot revoke a single joy that the moment hath known.”

Then seating herself in G.o.dwin's large chair, she leant over her seid- staff, and was silent, as if absorbed in her thoughts.

”Githa,” she said at last, ”where is thy lord? I came to touch his hands and to look on his brow.”

”He hath gone forth into the mart, and my sons are from home; and Harold comes. .h.i.ther, ere night, from his earldom.”

A faint smile, as of triumph, broke over the lips of the Vala, and then as suddenly yielded to an expression of great sadness.

”Githa,” she said, slowly, ”doubtless thou rememberest in thy young days to have seen or heard of the terrible h.e.l.l-maid Belsta?”

”Ay, ay,” answered Githa shuddering; ”I saw her once in gloomy weather, driving before her herds of dark grey cattle. Ay, ay; and my father beheld her ere his death, riding the air on a wolf, with a snake for a bridle. Why askest thou?”

”Is it not strange,” said Hilda, evading the question, that Belsta, and Heidr, and Hulla of old, the wolf-riders, the men-devourers, could win to the uttermost secrets of galdra, though applied only to purposes the direst and fellest to man, and that I, though ever in the future,--I, though tasking the Nornas not to afflict a foe, but to shape the careers of those I love,--I find, indeed, my predictions fulfilled; but how often, alas! only in horror and doom!”