The Last of the Vikings Part 16

"Fie, fie, Jeannette! What a coward you are, and a simpleton to boot, to believe all the silly tales you hear about the Saxons! Look how exquisitely lovely the river is ahead of us. Pull a little farther up stream."

Truly it was as Alice said, exquisitely lovely. The huge mountains on either side spread out their bases down to the water's edge, whilst deep, dense woods clothed the river's brink with well-nigh impenetrable depths of undergrowths and foliage. The huge trees on either side spread out their long arms across the river as though anxious to shake hands with their giant neighbours on the opposite bank. Ahead, each bend of the river through the tortuous hills was obscured from view; and it looked in the distance as though it was issuing from the bowels of the mountain promontory in front, through a thick bower of foliage, whilst here and there, as they voyaged on, the bare and frowning limestone crags jutted out through the slender covering of the green fir-tree tops which vainly strove to hide them--lonesome, fearsome, and grand, the solitude all around. The strange wildness and grandeur of the scene stirred the soul of Alice to its very depths, and it is needless to say she was perfectly oblivious to everything save the sweet voice of Nature.

As the boat and its occupants moved slowly up stream, numbers of water-hens rushed off into the impenetrable recesses of foliage and undergrowths, or dived hurriedly beneath the roots of trees or overhanging embankment.

Yonder in the distance, in the bared and tortuous roots of a huge tree overhanging the water, an otter is sitting, warily watching his finny prey disporting themselves beneath; but at sight of these unwelcome visitors he drops from the root of the tree on which he sits, with hasty plunge, leaving no trace of his whereabouts saving the streaming headline in the water indicating the direction in which he hastes for safety.

Fearlessly also, ahead, a flock of wild-duck are floating regally on the limpid waters, unconscious of danger, and gabbling in utmost glee and content; but at this unlooked-for intrusion they set up a startled cry, take hurriedly to wing, and are quickly lost in the distance.

Looking carefully, also, at the entrance of yon water-course, which comes tumbling over its rocky bed from the hills, a heron stands pensively watching for any incautious trout that, quitting the deep waters, comes to the lips of the mountain stream for food; but, disturbed, he utters a scream, and spreading out his long wings, with low and measured beat mounts into the air, probably to rest not until the far-away sea-coast is reached.

Kingfishers too--haunters of quiet river-stretches--in coats of the loveliest green and gold, flit over the bosom of the water with quiet a.s.surance. Snipe, also, in goodly numbers, with swift, arrow-like flight, dart ahead up stream, or, rising high over the tops of the trees, circle back again to the rear of the boat.

Alice is in raptures, and Jeannette's cautions and remonstrances alike, fall on ears which are preoccupied with other sounds, and are quite deaf to everything but the peaceful harmonies of nature.

"Look, Jeannette, at those fine hazel nuts, which hang in ripe and ruddy cl.u.s.ters there! Pull to the side at once, and let us gather them!"

Jeannette's caution is completely upset at this tempting sight, and the order is scarcely given ere it is executed. Eagerly the pair stand up in the boat to reach the brown cl.u.s.ters, totally oblivious and regardless of danger and molestation. Presently, with increasing boldness, they fasten the boat's chain round the bole of a tree, and clamber upon the bank. With nimble feet and nimble fingers they rush from tree to tree, stripping them of their dainty burden, and coming again and again with their hands full of nuts, and showering them into the bottom of the boat.

But they would not have been so content and composed had they but known that two pairs of Saxon eyes had been watching intently the progress up stream of the frail bark, and the fair Norman women who occupied it.

One, at least, has determined, if chance offers, he will have a word of thanks with them for his deliverance. These Saxons are Oswald and his almost inseparable comrade, Wulfhere. So the two slowly push aside the foliage and, unnoticed, emerge in close proximity to the eager nutters.

Jeannette utters a scream, and narrowly escapes an attack of hysterics.

"Calm your fears, ladies," said Oswald. "We are too much your debtors to wish you ill. Allow me, fair lady, to tender to you on this, the first opportunity I have had, my undying grat.i.tude for the life you so magnanimously gave me a while ago. Though we Saxons, I am afraid, must appear to you as rude and uncivilised islanders, I a.s.sure you we are not insensible to, or ungrateful for, any favours bestowed upon us--much less such favours as you have conferred on myself."

"Sir Knight," said Alice, much a.s.sured by the sincere and courteous tone in which the valiant and virtuous Saxon chieftain had addressed her, "we did but do what pity and admiration combined moved us to. Heaven made us two weak women, and we played a woman's part. But we have not repented in that we did an act prompted by those intuitions of mercy which are our woman's heritage."

"I am made a life-long debtor, fair lady, for that womanly act, and I trust I may find opportunity to repay so generous a loan."

"I am glad we have met a Saxon who is our debtor, or we should have fared badly for our boldness this morning."

"My people, lady, will not injure a hair of your head, nor permit any one else to do so. You may roam at will; far or near, you are perfectly safe."

"This river scenery is perfectly enchanting, Sir Knight. If I may presume upon the friends.h.i.+p and goodwill of your people, I should like to explore it thoroughly?"

"The river, lady, becomes even finer as you push into the solitudes. If that craft were not so frail, we two would give you a merry spin for a mile or two. Indeed, if you dare trust yourself with a Saxon, let me pull you up stream. I think I can promise you a rare treat. Wulfhere, my comrade, will take care of your maid until we return."

"I dare venture. It would not be knightly conduct to betray a woman's confidence. But will it be safe to leave Jeannette?"

"Perfectly! Wulfhere and the hound are a pair of faithful and valiant defenders."

"No, no!" almost shrieked Jeannette. "You must not go! You will be killed and eaten! I have heard for certain that these horrid Saxons eat people!"

"Nonsense, Jeannette! Don't be foolish, and don't listen to such silly tales!"

"Oh, dear! I shall be eaten if you aren't! Holy Mother protect me!" said she, crossing herself; and, pulling her rosary out of her bosom, she began counting her beads most violently.

"Come, my pretty," said Wulfhere, in his blandest tones. "If I were a cannibal I wouldn't eat you. Sit on this fallen tree; I and the hound will keep a respectful distance." So saying, he retreated half a dozen paces from her, and began putting the dog through some capers.

"If you eat Jeannette, Wulfhere, I shall call you to account when I come back," said Oswald laughingly, as the boat sped away.

In the meantime, Jeannette sat rocking herself in great distress, watching the receding boat, and telling her beads at a great pace, whilst Wulfhere continued his play with the hound, quite oblivious--or apparently oblivious--of the tearful maiden. But nothing to this pretty Frenchwoman was so insupportable as to be ignored. So, after bemoaning her distressing circ.u.mstances without finding any special calamity happening, she began casting furtive glances at her Saxon comrade, and she gradually dropped her cries and tears, at his nonchalant behaviour, and her beads began to pa.s.s much more slowly through her fingers. To her coquettish fancy there was something piquant in the indifference of this stalwart Saxon. Her curiosity was excited, and this speedily pa.s.sed into admiration for the muscular limbs and well-developed frame of Wulfhere.

For it is not in the disposition of many daughters of Eve--much less in such as this coquettish Frenchwoman was--to look upon such a fine piece of muscular anatomy as Wulfhere's, without falling into admiration of it. This did not pa.s.s unmarked by him, despite the hypocritical indifference which he had a.s.sumed. Presently he turned his gaze upon Jeannette, and a good-humoured grin spread over his features, developing into a broad smile, as he ventured to break the silence.

"I say, pretty one, you'll not run away whilst I'm gathering a few sticks to make the fire with, will you, eh?"

"Fire!" exclaimed Jeannette, clutching her beads, which had dropped into her lap. "What do you want a fire for?"

"Want a fire for! Why, I couldn't think of eating you raw!" and he twirled on his heel, to laugh.

Jeannette uttered an inimitable little scream. "You horrid man, I shall jump into the water if you stir! I'm sure I shall!" Then, bursting into a little laugh, all the more bewitching as it came, rainbow-like, betwixt smiles and tears, she said, "You are trying to frighten me, I know; but all the same you Saxons do eat people. I've heard it said hundreds of times. And once, as we came along, we saw a pile of bones, and Paul Lazaire said they were the bones of people whom the Saxons had eaten. So you see we know all about you."

"Oh, but that's all fudge, pretty one. You shall be my sweetheart, and then you'll soon learn quite different."

"But I'm not going to be your sweetheart. So you see. I wouldn't have any one for a sweetheart with hair and beard as long as yours. Normans have more sense than to wear horrid beards."

"Oh, but you shall cut my hair, and trim my beard; and I would try to look like a little Norman ninny of five feet six. Then you wouldn't be frightened in the least, would you?"

Jeannette thought to herself she would rather take him as he was, though she kept the matter to herself. The upshot of the whole was this: Wulfhere found himself sitting by her side on the fallen tree, with the hound in front, and neither party very anxious for the return of the boat and its occupants.

"So they say we eat such as you, do they, sweetheart?"

"Yes, they do. And they don't call me 'Sweetheart,' either. And don't you think I don't know you, for I saw you fighting on that wall."

"Well, don't be offended now; but what do they call you?"

"They call me Jeannette--and that's nothing to you."

"Oh dear, no! nothing whatever. And do they really say that we eat such as you?"

"Yes, they do! And it's quite true besides! for everybody says so."

"Well, that's dreadful, anyhow. And how many do you suppose I shall have eaten like you?"

"You wouldn't have to eat _one_ like me. If you did, Paul Lazaire would kill you for it."

"Paul Lazaire? Oh, I suppose Paul Lazaire will be a sweetheart of yours.

Is that so, Jeannette dear?"

"Yes, he is my sweetheart. But I'm not going to marry him for all that!

So you see."

"No, I wouldn't have _him_, I'm sure. Tell him you have got a better now--a Saxon."

"Fancy! That is fine, to be sure! Don't you think it! I'm not going to have a husband at all. They are horrid things, for they are never happy but when they are swilling ale. Just to think of my marrying a Saxon!

That would be fine indeed!"

"Really now, my pretty Jeannette, I really am over head and ears in love with you; and if you were my wife, why, I should take great care of you."