More Bywords. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ on their sad journey.  Groans, not likely to be emitted by her regular patient, had startled her, and she had found the floor occupied by the huge figure of a young Goth, his face and hair covered with blood from a deep wound on his head, insensible, but his moans and the motion of his limbs betraying life.

      Knowing the bitter hatred in Claudiodunum for everything Gothic, the brave girl would not seek for aid nearer than the villa.  Thither she despatched her male slave, while with her old nurse she did all in her power for the relief of the wounded man, with no inconsiderable skill.  Marcus had brought the Greek physician of the place, but he had done nothing but declare the patient a dead man by all the laws of Galen and Hippocrates.  However, the skull and constitution of a vigorous young Goth, fresh from the mountains, were tougher than could be imagined by a member of one of the exhausted races of the Levant.  Bishop Sidonius had brought his science and sagacity to the rescue, and under his treatment Odorik had been restored to his senses, and was on the fair way to recovery.

      On the first gleam of hope, Marcus had sent off a messenger, but so many of his household and dependents were absent that he had no great choice; so that as soon as hope had become security, he had set forth himself; and it was well he had done so, for he had overtaken the messenger at what was reckoned as three days’ journey from Bordigala.  He had ridden ever since without rest, only dismounting to change his steed, scarcely snatching even then a morsel of food, and that morning neither he nor the horse he rode had relaxed for a moment the desperate speed with which he rode against time; so that he had no cause for the shame and vexation that he felt at his utter collapse before the barbarians.  King Euric himself declared that he wished he had a Goth who could perform such a feat of endurance.

      While Marcus slept, Æmilius and the two young men offered their heartfelt thanks in the Catholic church of Bordigala, and then Euric would not be refused their presence at a great feast of reconciliation on the following day, two of Verronax’s speedy-footed followers having been sent off at once to bear home tidings that his intelligence had been in time.

      The feast was served in the old proconsular house, with the Roman paraphernalia, arranged with the amount of correct imitation that is to be found at an English dinner-party in the abode of an Indian Rajah.  It began with Roman etiquette, but ended in a Gothic revel, which the sober and refined Æmilii could hardly endure.

      They were to set off on their return early on the morrow, Meinhard and Odo with them; but when they at length escaped from the barbarian orgies, they had little expectation that their companions would join them in the morning.

      However, the two Goths and their followers were on the alert as soon as they, and as cool-headed as if they had touched no drop of wine.

      Old Odo disdained a mule, and would let no hand save his own guide his horse.  Verronax and Lucius constituted themselves his guides, and whenever he permitted the slightest assistance, it was always from the Arvernian, whom he seemed to regard as a sort of adopted son.

      He felt over his weapons, and told him long stories, of which Verronax understood only a word or two here and there, though the old man seemed little concerned thereat.  Now and then he rode along chanting to himself an extemporary song, which ran somewhat thus—

      Maids who choose the slain,

      Disappointed now.

      The Hawk of the Mountain,

      The Wolf of the West,

      Meet in fierce combat.

      Sinks the bold Wolf-cub,

      Folds his wing the Falcon!

      Shall the soft priestling

      Step before him to Valhal,

      Cheating Lok’s daughter

      Of weak-hearted prey?

      Lo! the Wolf wakens.

      Valkyr relaxes,

      Waits for a battlefield,

      Wolf-cub to claim.

      Friendly the Falcon,

      Friendly the Gray-Wolf.

      So it ran on, to the great scandal of Lucius, who longed for better knowledge of the Gothic tongue to convince the old man of the folly of his heathen dreams.  Meinhard, who was likewise rather shocked, explained that the father and son had been recent arrivals, who had been baptized because Euric required his followers to embrace his faith, but with little real knowledge or acceptance on the part of the father.  Young Odorik had been a far more ardent convert; and, after the fashion of many a believer, had taken up the distinctions of sect rather than of religion, and, zealous in the faith he knew, had thought it incumbent on him to insult the Catholics where they seemed to him idolatrous.

      A message on the road informed the travellers that they would find Odorik at the villa.  Thither then they went, and soon saw the whole household on the steps in eager anticipation.  A tall young figure, with a bandage still round his fair flowing locks, came down the steps as Verronax helped the blind man to dismount; and Odo, with a cry of ‘My son!’ with a ring of ecstasy in the sound, held the youth to his breast and felt him all over.

      “Are we friends?” said Odorik, turning to Verronax, when his father released him.

      “That is as thou wiliest,” returned the Arvernian gravely.

      “Know then,” said Odorik, “that I know that I erred.  I knew not thy Lord when I mocked thine honour to Him.  Father, we had but half learnt the Christian’s God.  I have seen it now.  It was not thy blow, O Arvernian! that taught me; but the Master who inspired yonder youth to offer his life, and who sent the maiden there to wait upon her foe.  He is more than man.  I own in him the Eternal Creator, Redeemer, and Lord!”

      “Yea,” said Sidonius to his friend Æmilius, “a great work hath been wrought out.  Thus hath the parable of actual life led this zealous but half-taught youth to enter into the higher truth.  Lucius will be none the worse priest for having trodden in the steps of Him who was High-priest and Victim.  Who may abide strict Divine Justice, had not One stood between the sinner and the Judge?  Thus ‘Mercy and Truth have met together; Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other.’”

      THE CAT OF CAT COPSE

      A HAMPSHIRE TRADITION

I

      The Dane! the Dane!  The heathen Dane

      Is wasting Hampshire’s coast again—

      From ravaged church and plundered farm

      Flash the dread beacons of alarm—

         Fly, helpless peasants, fly!

      Ytene’s green banks and forest shades,

      Her heathery slopes and gorse-clad glades

         Re-echo to the cry—

      Where is the King, whose strong right hand

      Hath oft from danger freed the land?

      Nor fleet nor covenant avails

      To drive aloof those pirate sails,

         In vain is Alfred’s sword;

      Vain seems in every sacred fane

      The chant—‘From fury of the Dane,

         Deliver us, good Lord.’

II

      The long keels have the Needles past,

      Wight’s fairest bowers are flaming fast;

      From Solent’s waves rise many a mast,

      With swelling sails of gold and red,

      Dragon and serpent at each head,

      Havoc and slaughter breathing forth,

      Steer СКАЧАТЬ