Legends That Every Child Should Know; a Selection of the Great Legends of All Times for Young People / Mabie, Hamilton Wright, 1845-1916

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Title: Legends That Every Child Should Know

Author: Hamilton Wright Mabie

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[Illustration: GUY EARL OF WARWICK]

LEGENDS THAT EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW

A SELECTION OF THE GREAT LEGENDS OF ALL TIMES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

EDITED BY HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE

ILLUSTRATED AND DECORATED BY BLANCHE OSTERTAG




INTRODUCTION


If we knew how the words in our language were made and what they have
meant to successive generations of the men and women who have used them,
we should have a new and very interesting kind of history to read. For
words, like all other creations of man, were not deliberately
manufactured to meet a need, as are the various parts of a bicycle or of
an automobile; but grew gradually and slowly out of experiences which
compelled their production. For it is one of the evidences of the
brotherhood of men that, either by the pressure of necessity or of the
instinct to describe to others what has happened to ourself and so make
common property of personal experience, no interesting or influential or
significant thing can befall a man that is not accompanied by a desire
to communicate it to others.

The word legend has a very interesting history, which sheds light not
only on its origin but on early habits of thought and customs. It is
derived from the Latin verb _legere_, which means "to read." As
legends are often passed down by word of mouth and are not reduced to
writing until they have been known for centuries by great numbers of
people, it seems difficult at first glance to see any connection between
the Latin word and its English descendant. In Russia and other
countries, where large populations live remote from cities and are
practically without books and newspapers, countless stories are told by
peasant mothers to their children, by reciters or semi-professional
story-tellers, which have since been put into print. For a good many
hundred years, probably, the vast majority of legends were not read;
they were heard.

When we understand, however, what the habits of people were in the early
Christian centuries and what the early legends were about, the original
meaning of the word is not only clear but throws light on the history of
this fascinating form of literature. The early legends, as a rule, had
to do with religious people or with places which had religious
associations; they were largely concerned with the saints and were
freely used in churches for the instruction of the people. In all
churches selections from some book or books are used as part of the
service; readings from the Old and New Testament are included in the
worship of all churches in Christendom. In the earliest times not only
were Lessons from the Old Testament and the Gospels and Epistles of the
New Testament read, but letters of bishops and selections from other
writings which were regarded as profitable for religious instruction.
Later stories of the saints and passages from the numerous lives which
appeared were read at different services and contributed greatly to
their interest. The first legends in Christian countries were incidents
from the lives of the saints and were included in the selections made
from various writings for public worship; these selections were called
_legends_. The history of the word makes clear, therefore, the
origin and early history of the class of stories which we call legends.

The use of the stories at church services led to the collection, orderly
arrangement and reshaping of a great mass of material which grew rapidly
because so many people were interested in these semi-religious tales. In
the beginning the stories had, as a rule, some basis in fact, though it
was often very slight. As time went on the element of fact grew smaller
and the element of fiction larger; stories which were originally very
short were expanded into long tales and became highly imaginative. In
the Thirteenth Century the _Legenda Aurea_, or Golden Legend, which
became one of the most popular books of the Middle Ages, appeared. In
time, as the taste for this kind of writing grew, the word legend came
to include any story which, under a historical form, gave an account of
an historical or imaginary person.

During the Middle Ages verse-making was very popular and very widely
practised; for versification is very easy when people are in the habit
of using it freely, and a verse is much more easily remembered than a
line of prose. For many generations legends were versified. It must be
remembered that verse and poetry are often very far apart; and poetry is
as difficult to compose as verse is easy. The versified legends were
very rarely poetic; they were simply narratives in verse. Occasionally
men of poetic genius took hold of these old stories and gave them
beautiful forms as did the German poet Hartmann von Aue in "Der Arme
Heinrich." With the tremendous agitation which found expression in the
Reformation, interest in legends died out, and was not renewed until the
Eighteenth Century, when men and women, grown weary of artificial and
mechanical forms of literature, turned again to the old stories and
songs which were the creation of less self-conscious ages. With the
revival of interest in ballads, folk-stories, fairy stories and myths
came a revival of interest in legends.

The myths were highly imaginative and poetic explanations of the world
and of the life of man in it at a time when scientific knowledge and
habits of thought had not come into existence. The fairy story was "a
free poetic dealing with realities in accordance with the law of mental
growth, ... a poetic wording of the facts of life, ... an endeavour to
shape the facts of the world to meet the needs of the imagination, the
cravings of the heart." The legend, dealing originally with incidents in
the lives of the saints and with places made sacred by association with
holy men, has, as a rule, some slight historical basis; is cast in
narrative form and told as a record of fact; and, in cases where it is
entirely imaginative, deals with some popular type of character like
Robin Hood or Rip Van Winkle; or with some mysterious or tragic event,
as Tennyson's "Idylls of the King" are poetic renderings of part of a
great mass of legends which grew up about a little group of imaginary or
semi-historical characters; Longfellow's "Golden Legend" is a modern
rendering of a very old mediaeval tale; Irving's "Legend of Sleepy
Hollow" is an example of purely imaginative prose, and Heine's "Lorelei"
of a purely imaginative poetic legend.

The legend is not so sharply defined as the myth and the fairy story,
and it is not always possible to separate it from these old forms of
stories; but it always concerns itself with one or more characters; it
assumes to be historical; it is almost always old and haunts some
locality like a ghost; and it has a large admixture of fiction, even
where it is not wholly fictitious. Like the myth and fairy story it
throws light on the mind and character of the age that produced it; it
is part of the history of the unfolding of the human mind in the world;
and, above all, it is interesting.


HAMILTON W. MABIE.




CHAPTER PAGE


I. HIAWATHA
  From "Indian Myths." By Ellen Emerson.

II. BEOWULF
  From "A Book of Famous Myths and Legends."

III. CHILDE HORN
  From "A Book of Famous Myths and Legends."

IV. SIR GALAHAD
  Alfred Tennyson.

V. RUSTEM AND SOHRAB
  From "The Epic of Kings. Stories Retold from Firdusi." By Helen Zimmern.

VI. THE SEVEN SLEEPERS OF EPHESUS
  From "Curious Myths of the Middle Ages." By Sabine Baring-Gould.


VII. GUY OF WARWICK
  From "Popular Romances of the Middle Ages." By George W. Cox,
  M. A. and Eustace Hinten Jones.


VIII. CHEVY CHASE
  From "The English and Scottish Popular Ballads." Edited by Francis
  James Child.


IX. THE FATE OF THE CHILDREN OF LIR
  From "Gods and Fighting Men: The Story of the Tuatha de Danaan
  and of the Fianna of Ireland." Arranged and put into English by Lady
  Gregory.

X. THE BELEAGUERED CITY
  From "Voices of the Night." By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

XI. PRESTER JOHN
  From "Curious Myths of the Middle Ages." By Sabine Baring-Gould.

XII. THE WANDERING JEW
  From "Curious Myths of the Middle Ages." By Sabine Baring-Gould.

XIII. KING ROBERT OF SICILY
  From "The Wayside Inn." By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

XIV. THE LIFE OF THE BEATO TORELLO DA POPPI
  From "Il Libro d'Oro of Those Whose Names are Written in the
  Lamb's Book of Life." Translated from the Italian by Mrs. Francis
  Alexander. Originally written in Latin by Messer Torrelo of
  Casentino, Canonico of Fiesole, and put into Italian by Don Silvano.

XV. THE LORELEI
  From the German of Heinrich Heine.

XVI. THE PASSING OF ARTHUR
  From "Idylls of the King." By Alfred Tennyson.

XVII. RIP VAN WINKLE
  Washington Irving.

XVIII. THE GRAY CHAMPION
  From "Twice Told Tales." By Nathaniel Hawthorne.

XIX. THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW
  Washington Irving.




CHAPTER I

WIGWAM LEGEND OF HIAWATHA [Footnote: This story is ascribed to Abraham
le Fort, an Onondaga chief, a graduate of Geneva College. The poem of
Longfellow has given it general interest. Hiawatha is an example of the
intellectual capacity of one of that race of whom it has been said "Take
these Indians in their owne trimme and naturall disposition, and they
bee reported to bee wise, lofty spirited, constant in friendship to one
another: true in their promise, and more industrious than many
others."--Wood's, "New England's Prospect," London, 1634.]


On the banks of Tioto, or Cross Lake, resided an eminent man who bore
the name of Hiawatha, or the Wise Man.

This name was given him, as its meaning indicates, on account of his
great wisdom in council and power in war. Hiawatha was of high and
mysterious origin. He had a canoe which would move without paddles,
obedient to his will, and which he kept with great care and never used
except when he attended the general council of the tribes. It was from
Hiawatha the people learned to raise corn and beans; through his
instructions they were enabled to remove obstructions from the water
courses and clear their fishing grounds; and by him they were helped to
get the mastery over the great monsters which overran the country. The
people listened to him with ever increasing delight; and he gave them
wise laws and maxims from the Great Spirit, for he had been second to
him only in power previous to his taking up his dwelling with mankind.

Having selected the Onondagas for his tribe, years passed away in
prosperity; the Onondagas assumed an elevated rank for their wisdom and
learning, among the other tribes, and there was not one of these which
did not yield its assent to their superior privilege of lighting the
council-fire.

But in the midst of the high tide of their prosperity, suddenly there
arose a great alarm at the invasion of a ferocious band of warriors from
the North of the Great Lakes; and as these bands advanced, an
indiscriminate slaughter was made of men, women, and children.
Destruction fell upon all alike.

The public alarm was great; and Hiawatha advised them not to waste their
efforts in a desultory manner, but to call a council of all the tribes
that could be gathered together, from the East to the West; and, at the
same time, he appointed a meeting to take place on an eminence on the
banks of the Onondaga Lake. There, accordingly, the chief men assembled,
while the occasion brought together a vast multitude of men, women, and
children, who were in expectation of some marvellous deliverance.

Three days elapsed, and Hiawatha did not appear. The multitude began to
fear that he was not coming, and messengers were despatched for him to
Tioto, who found him depressed with a presentiment that evil would
follow his attendance. These fears were overruled by the eager
persuasions of the messengers; and Hiawatha, taking his daughter with
him, put his wonderful canoe in its element and set out for the council.
The grand assemblage that was to avert the threatened danger appeared
quickly in sight, as he moved rapidly along in his magic canoe; and when
the people saw him, they sent up loud shouts of welcome until the
venerated man landed. A steep ascent led up the banks of the lake to the
place occupied by the council; and, as he walked up, a loud whirring
sound was heard above, as if caused by some rushing current of air.
Instantly, the eyes of all were directed upward to the sky, where was
seen a dark spot, something like a small cloud, descending rapidly, and
as it approached, enlarging in its size and increasing in velocity.
Terror and alarm filled the minds of the multitude and they scattered in
confusion. But as soon as he had gained the eminence, Hiawatha stood
still, causing his daughter to do the same--deeming it cowardly to fly,
and impossible, if it was attempted, to divert the designs of the Great
Spirit. The descending object now assumed a more definite aspect; and,
as it came nearer, revealed the shape of a gigantic white bird, with
wide-extended and pointed wings. This bird came down with ever
increasing velocity, until, with a mighty swoop, it dropped upon the
girl, crushing her at once to the earth.

The fixed face of Hiawatha alone indicated his consciousness of his
daughter's death; while in silence he signalled to the warriors, who had
stood watching the event in speechless consternation. One after the
other stepped up to the prostrate bird, which was killed by its violent
fall, and selecting a feather from its snow-white plumage, decorated
himself therewith. [Footnote: Since this event, say the Indians of this
tribe, the plumage of the white heron has been used for their
decorations on the war-path.]

But now a new affliction fell upon Hiawatha; for, on removing the
carcass of the bird, not a trace could be discovered of his daughter.
Her body had vanished from the earth. Shades of anguish contracted the
dark face of Hiawatha. He stood apart in voiceless grief. No word was
spoken. His people waited in silence, until at length arousing himself,
he turned to them and walked in calm dignity to the head of the council.

The first day he listened with attentive gravity to the plans of the
different speakers; on the next day he arose and said: "My friends and
brothers; you are members of many tribes, and have come from a great
distance. We have come to promote the common interest, and our mutual
safety. How shall it be accomplished? To oppose these Northern hordes in
tribes singly, while we are at variance often with each other, is
impossible. By uniting in a common band of brotherhood we may hope to
succeed. Let this be done, and we shall drive the enemy from our land.
Listen to me by tribes. You, the Mohawks, who are sitting under the
shadow of the great tree, whose branches spread wide around, and whose
roots sink deep into the earth, shall be the first nation, because you
are warlike and mighty. You, the Oneidas, who recline your bodies
against the everlasting stone that cannot be moved, shall be the second
nation, because you always give wise counsel. You, the Onondagas, who
have your habitation at the foot of the great hills, and are
overshadowed by their crags, shall be the third nation, because you are
greatly gifted in speech. You, the Senecas, whose dwelling is in the
dark forest, and whose home is all over the land, shall be the fourth
nation, because of your superior cunning in hunting. And you, the
Cayugas, the people who live in the open country and possess much
wisdom, shall be the fifth nation, because you understand better the art
of raising corn and beans, and making lodges. Unite, ye five nations,
and have one common interest, and no foe shall disturb and subdue you.
You, the people who are the feeble bushes, and you who are a fishing
people, may place yourselves under our protection, and we will defend
you. And you of the South and West may do the same, and we will protect
you. We earnestly desire the alliance and friendship of you all.
Brothers, if we unite in this great bond, the Great Spirit will smile
upon us, and we shall be free, prosperous, and happy; but if we remain
as we are, we shall be subject to his frown. We shall be enslaved,
ruined, perhaps annihilated. We may perish under the war-storm, and our
names be no longer remembered by good men, nor be repeated in the dance
and song. Brothers, those are the words of Hiawatha. I have spoken. I am
done." [Footnote: Canassatego, a renowned chief of the Confederacy, in
his remarkable piece of advice to the Colonial Commissioners of
Lancaster in July, 1744, seems to imply that there was an error in this
plan of Hiawatha, as it did not admit all nations into their Confederacy
with equal rights.]

The next day his plan of union was considered and adopted by the
council, after which Hiawatha again addressed the people with wise words
of counsel, and at the close of this speech bade them farewell; for he
conceived that his mission to the Iroquois was accomplished, and he
might announce his withdrawal to the skies. He then went down to the
shore, and assumed his seat in his mystical canoe. Sweet music was heard
in the air as he seated himself; and while the wondering multitude stood
gazing at their beloved chief, he was silently wafted from sight, and
they saw him no more. He passed to the Isle of the Blessed, inhabited by
Owayneo [Footnote: A name for their Great Spirit in the dialect of the
Iroquois.] and his manitos.

  And they said, "Farewell forever!"
  Said, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"
  And the forests, dark and lonely,
  Moved through all their depths of darkness^
  Sighed, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"
  And the waves upon the margin,
  Rising, rippling on the pebbles,
  Sobbed, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"
  And the heron, the shuh-shu-gah,
  From her haunts among the fen-lands,
  Screamed, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"
    Thus departed Hiawatha,
  Hiawatha the Beloved,
  In the glory of the sunset,
  In the purple mists of evening,
  To the regions of the home-wind,
  Of the northwest wind, Keewaydin,
  To the Islands of the Blessed,
  To the kingdom of Ponemah,
  To the land of the Hereafter.

[Footnote: "The Song of Hiawatha," by H. W. Longfellow.]




CHAPTER II

BEOWULF


Old King Hrothgar built for himself a great palace, covered with gold,
with benches all round outside, and a terrace leading up to it. It was
bigger than any hall men had ever heard of, and there Hrothgar sat on
his throne to share with men the good things God had given him. A band
of brave knights gathered round him, all living together in peace and
joy.

But there came a wicked monster, Grendel, out of the moors. He stole
across the fens in the thick darkness, and touched the great iron bars
of the door of the hall, which immediately sprang open. Then, with his
eyes shooting out flame, he spied the knights sleeping after battle.
With his steel finger nails the hideous fiend seized thirty of them in
their sleep. He gave yells of joy, and sped as quick as lightning across
the moors, to reach his home with his prey.

When the knights awoke, they raised a great cry of sorrow, whilst the
aged King himself sat speechless with grief. None could do battle with
the monster, he was too strong, too horrible for any one to conquer. For
twelve long years Grendel warred against Hrothgar; like a dark shadow of
death he prowled round about the hall, and lay in wait for his men on
the misty moors. One thing he could not touch, and that was the King's
sacred throne.

Now there lived in a far-off land a youngster called Beowulf, who had
the strength of thirty men. He heard of the wicked deeds of Grendel, and
the sorrow of the good King Hrothgar. So he had made ready a strong
ship, and with fourteen friends set sail to visit Hrothgar, as he was in
need of help. The good ship flew over the swelling ocean like a bird,
till in due time the voyagers saw shining white cliffs before them. Then
they knew their journey was at an end; they made fast their ship,
grasped their weapons, and thanked God that they had had an easy voyage.

Now the coastguard spied them from a tower. He set off to the shore,
riding on horseback, and brandishing a huge lance.

"Who are you," he cried, "bearing arms and openly landing here? I am
bound to know from whence you come before you make a step forward.
Listen to my plain words, and hasten to answer me." Beowulf made answer
that they came as friends, to rid Hrothgar of his wicked enemy Grendel,
and at that the coastguard led them on to guide them to the King's
palace. Downhill they ran together, with a rushing sound of voices and
armed tread, until they saw the hall shining like gold against the sky.
The guard bade them go straight to it, then, wheeling round on his
horse, he said, "It is time for me to go. May the Father of All keep you
in safety. For myself, I must guard the coast."

The street was paved with stone, and Beowulf's men marched along,
following it to the hall, their armour shining in the sun and clanging
as they went. They reached the terrace, where they set down their broad
shields. Then they seated themselves on the bench, while they stacked
their spears together and made themselves known to the herald. Hrothgar
speedily bade them welcome. They entered the great hall with measured
tread, Beowulf leading the way. His armour shone like a golden net-work,
and his look was high and noble, as he said, "Hail, O King! To fight
against Grendel single-handed have I come. Grant me this, that I may
have this task alone, I and my little band of men. I know that the
terrible monster despises weapons, and therefore I shall bear neither
sword, nor shield, nor buckler. Hand to hand I will fight the foe, and
death shall come to whomsoever God wills. If death overtakes me, then
will the monster carry away my body to the swamps, so care not for my
body, but send my armour to my King. My fate is in God's hands."

Hrothgar loved the youth for his noble words, and bade him and his men
sit down to the table and merrily share the feast, if they had a mind to
do so. As they feasted, a minstrel sang with a clear voice. The Queen,
in cloth of gold, moved down the hall and handed the jewelled cup of
mead to the King and all the warriors, old and young. At the right
moment, with gracious words, she brought it to Beowulf. Full of pride
and high purpose, the youth drank from the splendid cup, and vowed that
he would conquer the enemy or die.

When the sun sank in the west, all the guests arose. The King bade
Beowulf guard the house, and watch for the foe. "Have courage," he said,
"be watchful, resolve on success. Not a wish of yours shall be left
unfulfilled, if you perform this mighty deed."

Then Beowulf lay down to rest in the hall, putting off from him his coat
of mail, helmet, and sword.

Through the dim night Grendel came stealing. All slept in the darkness,
all but one! The door sprang open at the first touch that the monster
gave it. He trod quickly over the paved floor of the hall; his eyes
gleamed as he saw a troop of kinsmen lying together asleep. He laughed
as he reckoned on sucking the life of each one before day broke. He
seized a sleeping warrior, and in a trice had crunched his bones. Then
he stretched out his hand to seize Beowulf on his bed. Quickly did
Beowulf grip his arm; he stood up full length and grappled with him with
all his might, till his fingers cracked as though they would burst.
Never had Grendel felt such a grip; he had a mind to go, but could not.
He roared, and the hall resounded with his yells, as up and down he
raged, with Beowulf holding him in a fast embrace. The benches were
overturned, the timbers of the hall cracked, the beautiful hall was all
but wrecked. Beowulf's men had seized their weapons and thought to hack
Grendel on every side, but no blade could touch him. Still Beowulf held
him by the arm; his shoulder cracked, and he fled, wounded to death,
leaving hand, arm, and shoulder in Beowulf's grasp. Over the moors, into
the darkness, he sped as best he might, and to Beowulf was the victory.

Then, in the morning, many a warrior came from far and near. Riding in
troops, they tracked the monster's path, where he had fled stricken to
death. In a dismal pool he had yielded up his life.

Racing their horses over the green turf, they reached again the paved
street. The golden roof of the palace glittered in the sunlight. The
King stood on the terrace and gave thanks to God. "I have had much woe,"
he said, "but this lad, through God's might, has done the deed that we,
with all our wisdom, could not do. Now I will heartily love you,
Beowulf, as if you were my son. You shall want for nothing in this
world, and your fame shall live forever."

The palace was cleansed, the walls hung anew with cloth of gold, the
whole place was made fair and straight, for only the roof had been left
altogether unhurt after the fight.

A merry feast was held. The King brought forth out of his treasures a
banner, helmet, and mail coat. These he gave to Beowolf; but more
wonderful than all was a famous sword handed down to him through the
ages. Then eight horses with golden cheekplates were brought within the
court; one of them was saddled with King Hrothgar's own saddle,
decorated with silver. Hrothgar gave all to Beowulf, bidding him enjoy
them well. To each of Beowulf's men he gave rich gifts. The minstrels
sang; the Queen, beautiful and gracious, bore the cup to the King and
Beowulf. To Beowulf she, too, gave gifts: mantle and bracelets and
collar of gold. "Use these gifts," she said, "and prosper well! As far
as the sea rolls your name shall be known."

Great was the joy of all till evening came. Then the hall was cleared of
benches and strewn with beds. Beowulf, like the King, had his own bower
this night to sleep in. The nobles lay down in the hall, at their heads
they set their shields and placed ready their helmets and their mail
coats. Each slept, ready in an instant to do battle for his lord.

So they sank to rest, little dreaming what deep sorrow was to fall on
them.

Hrothgar's men sank to rest, but death was to be the portion of one.
Grendel the monster was dead, but Grendel's mother still lived. Furious
at the death of her son, she crept to the great hall, and made her way
in, clutched an earl, the King's dearest friend, and crushed him in his
sleep. Great was the uproar, though the terror was less than when
Grendel came. The knights leapt up, sword in hand; the witch hurried to
escape, she wanted to get out with her life.

The aged King felt bitter grief when he heard that his dearest friend
was slain. He sent for Beowulf, who, like the King, had had his own
sleeping bower that night. The youth stood before Hrothgar and hoped
that all was well.

"Do not ask if things go well," said the sorrowing King, "we have fresh
grief this morning. My dearest friend and noblest knight is slain.
Grendel you yourself destroyed through the strength given you by God,
but another monster has come to avenge his death. I have heard the
country folk say that there were two huge fiends to be seen stalking
over the moors, one like a woman, as near as they could make out, the
other had the form of a man, but was huger far. It was he they called
Grendel. These two haunt a fearful spot, a land of untrodden bogs and
windy cliffs. A waterfall plunges into the blackness below, and twisted
trees with gnarled roots overhang it. An unearthly fire is seen gleaming
there night after night. None can tell the depth of the stream. Even a
stag, hunted to death, will face his foes on the bank rather than plunge
into those waters. It is a fearful spot. You are our only help, dare you
enter this horrible haunt?"

Quick was Beowulf's answer: "Sorrow not, O King! Rouse yourself quickly,
and let us track the monster. Each of us must look for death, and he who
has the chance should do mighty deeds before it comes. I promise you
Grendel's kin shall not escape me, if she hide in the depths of the
earth or of the ocean."

The King sprang up gladly, and Beowulf and his friends set out. They
passed stony banks and narrow gullies, the haunts of goblins.

Suddenly they saw a clump of gloomy trees, overhanging a dreary pool. A
shudder ran through them, for the pool was blood-red.

All sat down by the edge of the pool, while the horn sounded a cheerful
blast. In the water were monstrous sea-snakes, and on jutting points of
land were dragons and strange beasts: they tumbled away, full of rage,
at the sound of the horn.

One of Beowulf's men took aim at a monster with his arrow, and pierced
him through, so that he swam no more.

Beowulf was making ready for the fight. He covered his body with armour
lest the fiend should clutch him. On his head was a white helmet,
decorated with figures of boars worked in silver. No weapon could hurt
it. His sword was a wonderful treasure, with an edge of iron; it had
never failed any one who had needed it in battle.

"Be like a father to my men, if I perish," said Beowulf to Hrothgar,
"and send the rich gifts you have given me to my King. He will see that
I had good fortune while life lasted. Either I will win fame, or death
shall take me."

He dashed away, plunging headlong into the pool. It took nearly the
whole day before he reached the bottom, and while he was still on his
way the water-witch met him. For a hundred years she had lived in those
depths. She made a grab at him, and caught him in her talons, but his
coat of mail saved him from her loathsome fingers. Still she clutched
him tight, and bore him in her arms to the bottom of the lake; he had no
power to use his weapons, though he had courage enough. Water-beasts
swam after him and battered him with their tusks.

Then he saw that he was in a vast hall, where there was no water, but a
strange, unearthly glow of firelight. At once the fight began, but the
sword would not bite--it failed its master in his need; for the first
time its fame broke down. Away Beowulf threw it in anger, trusting to
the strength of his hands. He cared nothing for his own life, for he
thought but of honour.

He seized the witch by the shoulder and swayed her so that she sank on
the pavement. Quickly she recovered, and closed in on him; he staggered
and fell, worn out. She sat on him, and drew her knife to take his life,
but his good mail coat turned the point. He stood up again, and then
truly God helped him, for he saw among the armour on the wall an old
sword of huge size, the handiwork of giants. He seized it, and smote
with all his might, so that the witch gave up her life.

His heart was full of gladness, and light, calm and beautiful as that of
the sun, filled the hall. He scanned the vast chamber, and saw Grendel
lying there dead. He cut off his head as a trophy for King Hrothgar,
whose men the fiend had killed and devoured.

Now those men who were seated on the banks of the pool watching with
Hrothgar saw that the water was tinged with blood. Then the old men
spoke together of the brave Beowulf, saying they feared they would never
see him again. The day was waning fast, so they and the King went
homeward. Beowulf's men stayed on, sick at heart, gazing at the pool.
They longed, but did not expect, to see their lord and master.

Under the depths, Beowulf was making his way to them. The magic sword
melted in his hand, like snow in sunshine; only the hilt remained, so
venomous was the fiend that had been slain therewith. He brought nothing
more with him than the hilt and Grendel's head. Up he rose through the
waters where the furious sea-beasts before had chased him. Now not one
was to be seen; the depths were purified when the witch lost her life.
So he came to land, bravely swimming, bearing his spoils. His men saw
him, they thanked God, and ran to free him of his armour. They rejoiced
to get sight of him, sound and whole.

Now they marched gladly through the highways to the town. It took four
of them to carry Grendel's head. On they went, all fourteen, their
captain glorious in their midst. They entered the great hall, startling
the King and Queen, as they sat at meat, with the fearful sight of
Grendel's head.

Beowulf handed the magic hilt to Hrothgar, who saw that it was the work
of giants of old. He spake to Beowulf, while all held their peace,
praised him for his courage, said that he would love him as his son,
and bade him be a help to mankind, remembering not to glory in his own
strength, for he held it from God, and death without more ado might
subdue it altogether. "Many, many treasures," he said, "must pass from
me to you to-morrow, but now rest and feast."

Gladly Beowulf sat down to the banquet, and well he liked the thought of
the rest.

When day dawned, he bade the King farewell with noble words, promising
to help him in time of need. Hrothgar with tears and embraces let him
go, giving him fresh gifts of hoarded jewels. He wept, for he loved
Beowulf well, and knew he would never see him any more.

The coastguard saw the gallant warriors coming, bade them welcome, and
led them to their ship. The wind whistled in the sails, and a pleasant
humming sound was heard as the good ship sped on her way. So Beowulf
returned home, having done mighty deeds and gained great honour.

In due time Beowulf himself became King, and well he governed the land
for fifty years. Then trouble came.

A slave, fleeing from his master, stumbled by an evil chance into the
den of a dragon. There he saw a dazzling hoard of gold, guarded by the
dragon for three hundred winters. The treasure tempted him, and he
carried off a tankard of gold to give to his master, to make peace with
him.

The dragon had been sleeping, now he awoke, and sniffed the scent of an
enemy along the rock. He hunted diligently over the ground; he wanted to
find the man who had done the mischief in his sleep. In his rage he
swung around the treasure mound, dashing into it now and again to seek
the jewelled tankard. He found it hard to wait until evening came, when
he meant to avenge with fire the loss of his treasure.

Presently the sun sank, and the dragon had his will. He set forth,
burning all the cheerful homes of men: his rage was felt far and wide.
Before dawn he shot back again to his dark home, trusting in his mound
and in his craft to defend himself.

Now Beowulf heard that his own home had been burnt to the ground. It was
a great grief to him, almost making him break out in a rage against
Providence. His breast heaved with anger.

He meant to rid his country of the plague, and to fight the dragon
single handed. He would have thought it shame to seek him with a large
band, he who, as a lad, had killed Grendel and his kin. As he armed for
the fray, many thoughts filled his mind; he remembered the days of his
youth and manhood. "I fought many wars in my youth," he said, "and now
that I am aged, and the keeper of my people, I will yet again seek the
enemy and do famously."

He bade his men await him on the mountain-side. They were to see which
of the two would come alive out of the tussle.

There the aged King beheld where a rocky archway stood, with a stream of
fire gushing from it; no one could stand there and not be scorched. He
gave a great shout, and the dragon answered with a hot breath of flame.
Beowulf, with drawn sword, stood well up to his shield, when the burning
dragon, curved like an arch, came headlong upon him. The shield saved
him but little; he swung up the sword to smite the horrible monster, but
its edge did not bite. Sparks flew around him on every side; he saw that
the end of his days had come.

His men crept away to the woods to save their lives. One, and one only,
Wiglaf by name, sped through the smoke and flame to help his lord.

"My Lord Beowulf!" he cried, "with all your might defend life, I will
support you to the utmost."

The dragon came on in fury; in a trice the flames consumed Wiglaf's
shield, but, nothing daunted, he stepped under the shelter of Beowulf's,
as his own fell in ashes about him. The King remembered his strength of
old, and he smote with his sword with such force that it stuck in the
monster's head, while splinters flew all around. His hand was so strong
that, as men used to say, he broke any sword in using it, and was none
the worse for it.

Now, for the third time, the dragon rushed upon him, and seized him by
the neck with his poisonous fangs. Wiglaf, with no thought for himself,
rushed forward, though he was scorched with the flames, and smote the
dragon lower down than Beowulf had done. With such effect the sword
entered the dragon's body that from that moment the fire began to cease.

The King, recovering his senses, drew his knife and ended the monster's
life. So these two together destroyed the enemy of the people. To
Beowulf that was the greatest moment of his life, when he saw his work
completed.

The wound that the dragon had given him began to burn and swell, for the
poison had entered it. He knew that the tale of his days was told. As he
rested on a stone by the mound, he pondered thoughtfully, looking on the
cunning work of the dwarfs of old, the stone arches on their rocky
pillars. Wiglaf, with tender care, unloosed his helmet and brought him
water, Beowulf discoursing the while: "Now I would gladly have given my
armour to my son, had God granted me one. I have ruled this people fifty
years, and no King has dared attack them. I have held my own with
justice, and no friend has lost his life through me. Though I am sick
with deadly wounds, I have comfort in this. Now go quickly, beloved
Wiglaf, show me the ancient wealth that I have won for my people, the
gold and brilliant gems, that I may then contentedly give up my life."

Quickly did Wiglaf enter the mound at the bidding of his master. On
every side he saw gold and jewels and choice vases, helmets and
bracelets, and over head, a marvellous banner, all golden, gleaming with
light, so that he could scan the surface of the floor and see the
curious treasured hoards. He filled his lap full of golden cups and
platters, and also took the brilliant banner.

He hastened to return with his spoils, wondering, with pain, if he
should find his King still alive. He bore his treasures to him, laid
them on the ground, and again sprinkled him with water. "I thank God,"
said the dying King, "that I have been permitted to win this treasure
for my people; now they will have all that they need. But I cannot be
any longer here. Bid my men make a lofty mound on the headland
overlooking the sea, and there place my ashes. In time to come men shall
call it Beowulf's Barrow, it shall tower aloft to guide sailors over the
stormy seas."

The brave King took from his neck his golden collar, took his helmet and
his coronet, and gave them to his true knight, Wiglaf. "Fate has swept
all my kinsmen away," said he, "and now I must follow them."

That was his last word, as his soul departed from his bosom, to join the
company of the just.

Of all Kings in the world, he was, said his men, the gentlest to his
knights and the most desirous of honour.




CHAPTER III

CHILDE HORN


There dwelt once in Southland a King named Altof, who was rich,
powerful, and gentle. His Queen was named Gotthild, and they had a young
son called Horn. The rain never rained, the sun never shone upon a
fairer boy; his skin was like roses and lilies, and as clear as glass;
and he was as brave as he was handsome. At fifteen years old his like
was not to be seen in all the kingdoms around. He had a band of
play-fellows, twelve boys of noble birth, but not one of them could
throw the ball so high as Horn. Out of the twelve, two were his special
companions, and one of them, Athulf, was the best of the company, while
the other, Figold, was altogether the worst.

It came to pass one summer morning that good King Altof was riding on
the sea-shore with only two attendants, and he looked out to sea and saw
fifteen ships lying in the offing. It was the heathen Vikings who had
come from Northland, bent on plundering Christian lands. When these saw
the three Norsemen, they swarmed on to shore like a pack of wolves, all
armed and full of battle fury. They slew the King and his knights, and
made themselves masters of the whole land.

Queen Gotthild wept much for her lord, and more for her son, Childe
Horn, who could not now ascend his father's throne. She clad herself in
mourning garments, the meanest she could find, and went to dwell in a
cave, where she prayed night and day for her son, that he might be
preserved from the malice of his enemies, at whose mercy he and his
comrades lay. At first they thought to have slain him, but one of their
leaders was touched by his glorious beauty, and so he said to the boy,
"Horn, you are a fair stripling and a bold, and when you come to years,
you and your band here, you are like to prove too many for us, so I am
going to put you all in a boat and let it drift out to sea--where may
the gods preserve you, or else send you to the bottom; but, for all our
sakes, you cannot remain here."

Then they led the boys down to the shore, placed them in a little skiff,
and pushed it off from the land. All but Horn wrung their hands in fear.
The waves rose high, and, as the boat was tossed up and down, the lads
gave themselves up for lost, not knowing whither they were driven; but
when the morning of the second day broke, Horn sprang up from where he
sat in the forepart of the skiff, crying, "I hear the birds sing, and I
see the grass growing green--we are at the land!" Then they sprang right
gladly on shore, and Horn called after the boat as it floated away, "A
good voyage to thee, little boat! May wind and wave speed thee back to
Southland. Greet all who knew me, and chiefly the good Queen Gotthild,
my mother. And tell the heathen King that some day he shall meet his
death at my hand."

Then the boys went on till they came to a city, where reigned King
Aylmer of Westland--whom God reward for his kindness to them. He asked
them in mild words whence they came, "for in good sooth," said he,
"never have I seen so well-favoured a company"; and Horn answered
proudly, "We are of good Christian blood, and we come from Southland,
which has just been raided by pagans, who slew many of our people, and
sent us adrift in a boat, to be the sport of the winds and waves. For a
day and a night we have been at sea without a rudder; and now we have
been cast upon your coast, you may enslave or slay us, if but, it please
thee, show us mercy."

Then the good King asked, "What is your name, my child?" and the boy
answered. "Horn, at your pleasure, my Lord King; and if you need a
servant, I will serve you well and truly."

"Childe Horn," said the King, "you bear a mighty name for one so young
and tender.

  "Over hills and valleys oft the horn has rung,
  In the royal palace long the horn has hung.
  So shall thy name, O Hornchild, through every land resound,
  And the fame of thy wondrous beauty in all the West be found."

So Horn found great favour with the King, and he put him in charge of
Athelbrus, the house-steward, that he might teach him all knightly
duties, and he spared no pains with him, nor yet with his companions;
but well trained as they all were, Horn was far ahead of them both in
stature and noble bearing. Even a stranger looking at him could guess
his lofty birth, and the splendour of his marvellous beauty lit up all
the palace; while he won all hearts, from the meanest grooms to the
greatest of the court ladies.

Now the fairest thing in that lordly court was the King's only daughter,
Riminild. Her mother was dead, and she was well-beloved of her father,
as only children are. Not a word had she ever ventured to speak to Horn
when she saw him among the other knights at the great feasts, but day
and night she bore his image in her heart. One night she dreamed that he
entered her apartments (and she wondered much at his boldness), and in
the morning she sent for Athelbrus, the house-steward, and bade him
conduct Horn into her presence. But he went to Athulf, who was the pure
minded and true one of Horn's two chosen companions, while Figold, the
other, was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and said to him, "You shall go
with me in Horn's stead to the Princess."

So he went, and she, not recognising him in the ill-lighted room,
stretched out her hand to him, crying, "Oh, Horn, I have loved you long.
Now plight me your troth."

But Athulf whispered to her, "Hold! I am not Horn. I am but his friend,
Athulf, as unlike him as may well be. Horn's little finger is fairer
than my whole body; and were he dead, or a thousand miles off, I would
not play him false."

Then Riminild rose up in anger and glared upon the old steward, crying,
"Athelbrus, you wicked man, out of my sight, or I shall hate you for
evermore! All shame and ill befall you if you bring me not Childe Horn
himself!"

"Lady and Princess," answered Athelbrus warily, "listen, and I will tell
you why I brought Athulf. The King entrusted Horn to my care, and I
dread his anger. Now be not angry with me, and I will fetch him
forthwith."

Then he went away, but, instead of Horn, this time he called Figold, the
deceiver, and said to him, "Come with me, instead of Horn, to the royal
Princess. Do not betray yourself, lest we both suffer for it."

Willingly went the faithless one with him, but to Figold the maid held
not out her hand--well she knew that he was false, and she drove him
from her presence in rage and fury. Athelbrus feared her anger, and said
to himself, "To make my peace with her I must now send her the true
Horn." He found him in the hall presenting the wine cup to the King, and
whispered to him, "Horn, you are wanted in the Princess's apartments";
and when Horn heard this his hand holding the full goblet so trembled
that the wine ran over the edge. He went straight into the presence of
the royal maiden, and as he knelt before her his beauty seemed to light
up the room.

"Fair befall thee and thy maidens, O Lady!" said he. "The house-steward
has sent me hither to ask thy will."

Then Riminild stood up, her cheeks red as the dawn, and told him of her
love; and Horn took counsel with himself how he should answer her.

"May God in heaven bless him whom thou weddest, whoever he may be," he
said. "I am but a foundling, and the King's servant to boot--it would be
against all rule and custom were he to wed me with thee."

When Riminild heard this her heart died within her, and she fell
fainting on the floor; but Horn lifted her up, and advised her to
request her father that he might now receive knighthood. "An then," said
he, "I will win you by my brave deeds."

When she heard that, she recovered herself and said, "Take my ring here
to Master Athelbrus, and bid him from me ask the King to make you a
knight."

So Horn went and told all to Athelbrus, who sought the King forthwith,
and said, "To-morrow is a festival; I counsel thee to admit Horn to
knighthood." And the King was pleased, and said, "Good! Horn is well
worthy of it. I will create him a knight to-morrow, and he himself shall
confer it on his twelve companions."

The next day the newly knighted one went to Riminild's bower, and told
her that now he was her own true knight, and must go forth to do brave
deeds in her name, and she said she would trust him evermore, and she
gave him a gold ring with her name graven on it, which would preserve
him from all evil. "Let this remind thee of me early and late," she
said, "and thou canst never fall by treachery." And then they kissed
each other, and she closed the door behind him, with tears.

The other knights were feasting and shouting in the King's hall, but
Horn went to the stable, armed from head to foot. He stroked his
coal-black steed, then sprang upon his back and rode off, his armour
ringing as he went. Down to the seashore he galloped, singing joyously
and praying God soon to send him the chance to do some deed of knightly
daring, and there he met a band of pagen marauders, who had just landed
from their pirate-ship. Horn asked them civilly what they wanted there,
and one of the pagans answered insolently, "To conquer the land and slay
all that dwell in it, as we did to King Altof, whose son now serves a
foreign lord."

Horn, on hearing this, drew his sword and struck off the fellow's head;
then he thought of his dead father and of his mother in her lonely cave;
he looked on his ring and thought of Riminild, and dashed among the
pirates, laying about him right and left, till, I warrant you, there
were few of them left to tell the tale. "This," he cried, "is but the
foretaste of what will be when I return to my own land and avenge my
father's death!"

Then he rode back to the palace and told the King how he had slain the
invaders, and "Here," he said, "is the head of the leader, to requite
thee, O King, for granting me knighthood."

The next day the King went a-hunting in the forest, and the false Figold
rode at his side, but Horn stayed at home. And Figold spoke to the King
out of his wicked heart and said, "I warn thee, King Aylmer, Horn is
plotting to dishonour thee--to rob thee of thy daughter and of thy
kingdom to boot. He is even now plotting with her in her bower."

Then the King galloped home in a rage, and burst into Riminild's bower,
and there, sure enough, he found Horn, as Figold had said. "Out of my
land, base foundling!" he cried. "What have you to do with the young
Queen here?"

And Horn departed without a word. He went to the stable, saddled his
horse, then he girded on his sword and returned to the palace; he
crossed the hall and entered Riminild's apartments for the last time.
"Lady," he said, "I must go forth to strange lands for seven years; at
the end of that time I will either return or send a messenger; but if I
do neither, you may give yourself to another, nor wait longer for me.
Now kiss me a long farewell."

Riminild promised to be true to him, and she took a gold ring from her
finger, saying, "Wear this above the other which I gave you, or if you
grow weary of them, fling them both away, and watch to see if its two
stones change colour; for if I die, the one will turn pale, and if I am
false, the other will turn red."

"Riminild," said Childe Horn, "I am yours for evermore! There is a pool
of clear water under a tree in the garden--go there daily and look for
my shadow in the water. If you see it not, know that I am unaltered; and
if you see it, know that I no longer love thee."

Then they embraced and kissed each other, and Horn parted from her, and
rode down to the coast, and took passage on a ship bound for Ireland.
When he landed there, two of its King's sons met him, and took him to
their father, good King Thurstan, before whom Horn bowed low, and the
King bade him welcome, and praised his beauty, and asked his name.

"My name is Good Courage," said Horn boldly, and the King was well
pleased.

Now, at Christmas, King Thurstan made a great feast, and in the midst of
it one rushed in crying, "Guests, O King! We are besieged by five
heathen chiefs, and one of them proclaims himself ready to fight any
three of our knights single handed to-morrow at sunrise."

"That would be but a sorry Christmas service," said King Thurstan; "who
can advise me how best to answer them?" Then Horn spoke up from his seat
at the table, "If these pagans are ready to fight, one against three,
what may not a Christian dare? I will adventure myself against them all,
and one after another they shall go down before my good sword."

Heavy of heart was King Thurstan that night, and little did he sleep.
But "Sir Good Courage" rose early and buckled on his armour. Then he
went to the King and said, "Now, Sir King, come with me to the field,
and I will show you in what coin to pay the demands of these heathen."
So they rode on together in the twilight, till they came to the green
meadow, where a giant was waiting for them. Horn greeted him with a blow
that brought him to the ground at once, and ran another giant through
the heart with his sword; and when their followers saw that their
leaders were slain, they turned and fled back to the shore, but Horn
tried to cut them off from their ships, and in the scrimmage the King's
two sons fell. At this Horn was sore grieved, and he fell upon the
pagans in fury, and slew them right and left, to avenge the King and
himself.

Bitterly wept King Thurstan when his sons were brought home to him on
their biers; there was great mourning for the young princes, who were
buried with high honours in the vault under the church. Afterwards the
King called his knights together and said to Horn, "Good Courage, but
for you we were all dead men. I will make you my heir; you shall wed my
daughter Swanhild, who is bright and beautiful as the sunshine, and
shall reign here after me."

So Horn lived there for six years, always under the name of Good
Courage, but he sent no messenger to Riminild, not wishing any man to
know his secret, and consequently Riminild was in great sorrow on his
account, not knowing whether he was true to her or not. Moreover, the
King of a neighbouring country sought her hand in marriage, and her
father now fixed a day for the wedding.

One morning, as Horn was riding to the forest, he saw a stranger
standing in the wayside, who, on being questioned said, "I come from
Westland, and I seek the Knight Sir Horn. Riminild the maiden is in sore
heaviness of spirit, bewailing herself day and night, for on Sunday next
she is to be married to a King."

Then was Horn's grief as great as that of Riminild. His eyes overflowed
with tears. He looked at his ring with its colored stones; the one had
not turned red, but it seemed to him that the other was turning pale.
"Well knew my heart that you would keep your troth with me, Riminild,"
said he to himself, "and that never would that stone grow red; but this
paling one bodes ill. And you doubtless have often looked in the garden
pool for my shadow, and have seen naught there but your own lovely
image. _That_ shadow shall never come, O sweet love, Riminild, to
prove to you that your love is false, but he himself shall come and
drive all shadows away.

"And you, my trusty messenger," he said aloud, "go back to maid Riminild
and tell her that she shall indeed wed a King next Sunday, for before
the church bells ring for service I will be with her."

The Princess Riminild stood on the beach and looked out to sea, hoping
to see Horn coming in his helmet and shield to deliver her; but none
came, save her own messenger, who was washed up on the shore--drowned!
And she wrung her hands in her anguish.

Horn had gone immediately to King Thurstan, and, after saluting him,
told him his real name and his present trouble. "And now, O King," said
he, "I pray you to reward me for all my services by helping me to get
possession of Riminild. Your daughter, Swanhild, will I give to a man
the best and faithfullest ever called to the ranks of knighthood."

Then said the King, "Horn, follow your own counsel"; then he sent for
his knights, and many of them followed Horn, so that he had a thousand
or more at his command. The wind favoured their course, and in a few
hours the ships cast anchor on the shore of Westland. Horn left his
forces in a wood while he went on to learn what was doing. Well did he
know the way, and lightly did he leap over the stones. As he went he met
a pilgrim, and asked him the latest news, who answered, "I come from a
wedding feast--but the bride's true love is far away, and she only
weeps. I could not stay to see her grief."

"May God help me!" said Horn: "but this is sorrowful news. Let us change
garments, good pilgrim. I must go to the feast, and once there I vow. I
will give them something by which to remember Horn!" He blackened his
eyebrows, and took the pilgrim's hat and staff, and when he reached the
gate of the palace, the porter was for turning him back, but Horn took
him up and flung him over the bridge, and then went on to the hall where
the feast was being held. He sat down among the lowest, on the beggar's
bench, and glowered round from under his blackened eyebrows. At a
distance he saw Riminild sitting like one in a dream; then she rose to
pour out mead and wine for the knights and squires, and Horn cried out,
"Fair Queen, if ye would have God's blessing, let the beggar's turn come
next."

She set down the flagon of wine, and poured him out brown beer in a jug,
saying: "There, drink that off at a draught, thou boldest of beggar
men!" But he gave it to the beggars, his companions, saying "I am not
come to drink jugs of beer, but goblets of wine. Fair Queen," he cried,
"thou deemest me a beggar, but I am rather a fisherman, come to haul in
my net, which I left seven years ago hanging from a fair hand here in
Westland." Then was Riminild much troubled within herself, and she
looked hard at Horn. She reached him the goblet and said, "Drink wine
then, fisherman, and tell me who thou art."

He drank from the goblet, and then dropped into it the gold ring, and
said, "Look, O Queen, at what thou findest in the goblet, and ask no
more who I am." The Queen withdrew into her bower with her four maidens,
and when she saw the gold ring that she had given to Horn, she was sore
distressed, and cried out, "Childe Horn must be dead, for this is his
ring."

She then sent one of her waiting-maids to command the stranger to her
presence, and Horn, all unrecognised, appeared before her. "Tell me,
honest pilgrim, where thou gottest this ring?" she asked him.

"I took it," said he, "from the finger of a man whom I found lying sick
unto death in a wood. Loudly he was bewailing himself and the lady of
his heart, one Riminild, who should at this time have wedded him." As he
spoke he drew his cap down over his eyes, which were full of tears.

Then Riminild cried, "Break, heart, in my bosom! Horn is no more--he who
hath already caused thee so many tender pangs." She threw herself on her
couch and called for a knife, to kill the bridegroom and herself.

Her maidens shrieked with fear, but Horn flung his arms around her and
pressed her to his heart. Then he cast away hat and staff, and wiped the
brown stain from his face, and stood up before his love in his own fair
countenance, asking, "Dear love, Riminild, know thou me not now? Away
with your grief and kiss me--I am Horn!--Horn, your true lover and born
slave."

She gazed into his eyes. At first she could not believe that it was he,
but at last she could doubt no longer; she fell upon his neck, and in
the sweet greetings that followed were two sick hearts made whole.

"Horn, you miscreant! how could you play me such a trick?"

"Have patience, sweet love, maid Riminild, and I will tell you all. Now
let me go and finish my work, and when it is done I will come and rest
at your side."

So he left her, and went back to the forest, and Riminild sent for
Athulf, who met her with a doleful countenance. "Athulf!" she cried,
"rejoice with me! Horn has come--I tell you Horn is here!"

"Alas!" said Athulf, "that cannot be. Who hath brought thee such an idle
tale? Day and night have I stood here watching for him, but he came not,
and much I fear me the noble Horn is dead."

"I tell you he is living," she said--"aye, and more alive than ever. Go
to the forest and find him--he is there with all his faithful
followers."

Athulf made haste to the forest, still unbelieving, but soon his heart
bounded for joy, for there rode Horn in his shining armour at the head
of his troops. Athulf rode to his side, and they returned together to
the city, where Riminild was watching them from her turret. And Horn
pointed to her and cried to his company, "Knights, yonder is my
bride--help me to win her!"

Then was there a fierce storming of the gate--the shock of it shook
Riminild's tower--and Horn and his heroes burst, all unheralded, into
the King's hall. Fierce and furious was the bridal dance that followed;
the tumult of it rose up to Riminild, and she prayed, "God preserve my
lover in this wild confusion!"

Right merrily danced her dancer, and all unscathed he flashed through
the hall, thanks to his true love and God's care. King Aylmer and the
bridegroom confronted him and the younger, the bridegroom King, asked
him what he sought there. "I seek my bride," said he, "and if you do not
give her up to me I will have your life."

"Better thou should have the bride than that," said the other; "though I
would sooner be torn in pieces than give thee either." And he defended
himself bravely, but it availed him naught. Horn struck off his head
from his shoulders, so that it bounded across the hall. Then cried Horn
to the other guests, "The dance is over!" after which he proclaimed a
truce, and, throwing himself down on a couch, spake thus to King Aylmer:
"I was born in Southland, of a royal race. The pagan Vikings slew King
Altof, my father, and put me out to sea with my twelve companions. You
did train me for the order of knighthood, and I have dishonoured it by
no unworthy deeds, though you did drive me from your kingdom, thinking I
meant to disgrace you through your daughter. But that which you credited
me with I never contemplated. Accept me then, O King, for your
son-in-law. Yet will I not claim my bride till I have won back my
kingdom of Southland. That will I accomplish quickly, with the help of
my brave knights and such others as I pray you to lend me, leaving in
pledge therefor the fairest jewel in my crown, until King Horn shall be
able to place Queen Riminild beside him on his father's throne."

As he spoke Riminild entered, and Horn took her hand and led her to her
father, and the young couple stood before the old King--a right royal
pair. Then King Aylmer spoke jestingly, "Truly I once did chide a young
knight in my wrath, but never King Horn, whom I now behold for the first
time. Never would I have spoken roughly to King Horn, much less
forbidden him to woo a Princess."

Then all the knights and lords came offering their good wishes to the
happy pair; and the old house-steward, Athelbrus, would have bent the
knee to his former pupil, but Horn took the old man in his arms and
embraced him, thanking him for all the pains he had taken with his
breeding.

Horn's twelve companions came also, and did him homage as their
sovereign, and he rejoiced to see them all, but especially Athulf the
brave and true. "Athulf," he told him, "thou hast helped me to win my
bride here, now come with me to Southland and help me to make a home for
her. And you, too, shall win a lady--I have already chosen her; her name
is Swanhild, and she will look fair even beside Riminild." Then did
Athulf rejoice, but Figold, the traitor, was ready to sink into the
ground with shame and envy.

Then Horn returned to his ship, taking Athulf with him, but Figold he
left behind. Truly it is ill knowing what to do with a traitor, whether
you take him to the field or leave him at home.

On went the ship before a favouring wind; the voyage lasted but four
days. Horn landed at midnight, and he and Athulf went inland together.
On the way they came upon a noble looking knight asleep under his
shield, upon which a cross was painted, and Horn cried to him, "Awake,
and tell us what they are doing here. Thou seemest to be a Christian, I
trow, else would I have hewn thee in pieces with my sword!"

The good knight sprang up aghast, and said, "Against my will I am
serving the heathen who rule here. I am keeping a place ready for Horn,
the best loved of all heroes. Long I have wondered why he does not
bestir himself to return and fight for his own. God give him power so to
do till he slay every one of these miscreants. They put him out to sea,
a tender boy, with his twelve playmates, one of whom was my only son,
Athulf. Dearly he loved Horn, and was beloved by him. Could I but see
them both once more, I should feel that I could die in peace."

"Then rejoice," they told him, "for Horn and Athulf are here!"

Joyfully did the old man greet the youths; he embraced his son and bent
the knee to Horn, and all three rejoiced together.

"Where is your company?" asked the old knight. "I suppose you two have
come to explore the land. Well, your mother still lives, and if she knew
you to be living would be beside herself with joy."

"Blessed be the day that I and my men landed here," said Horn. "We will
catch these heathen dogs, or else tame them. We will speak to them in
our own language."

Then Horn blew his horn, so that all on board the ship heard it and came
on shore. As the young birds long for the dawn, so Horn longed for the
fight that should free his country from her enemies. From morning to
night the battle raged, till all the heathen, young and old, were slain,
and young King Horn himself slew the pirate King. Then he went to
church, with all his people, and an anthem was sung to the glory of God,
and Horn gave thanks aloud for the restoration of his kingdom, after
which he sought the place where his mother dwelt. How his heart wept for
joy when he saw her! He placed a crown on her head, and arrayed her in
rich robes, and brought her up to the palace. "Thou art glad to have thy
child again," he said to her in the joy of his heart, "but I will make
thee gladder still by bringing thee home a daughter, one who will please
thee well." And he thought of his love, Riminild, with whom, however,
things were just then going very much amiss.

For as son as Horn had departed, the treacherous Figold had collected a
great army of workmen and made them build him a tower in the sea, which
could only be reached when the tide was out. Now about this time Horn
had a dream, in which he saw Riminild on board a ship at sea, which
presently went to pieces, and she tried to swim ashore, steering with
her lily-white hand, while Figold, the traitor, sought to stop her with
the point of his sword. Then he awoke and cried, "Athulf, true friend,
we must away across the sea. Unless we make all speed some evil will
befall us." And in the midst of a storm they set sail.

In the meantime Figold had left his tower and appeared in the presence
of King Aylmer. Cunningly, out of his false heart spoke the traitor,
"King Aylmer, Horn has sent me word that he would have his bride handed
over to my care. He has regained his crown and realm and would fain have
her there to be his Queen."

"Very well," said the King, "let her go with thee."

But Riminild was much displeased at the thought of being put into the
hands of Figold, whom in her soul she would not trust.

"Why comes not Horn for me himself?" she asked. "I know not the way to
his kingdom either by land or by sea."

"But I know it," said Figold, "and I will soon bring thee thither, most
beauteous queen." But his wicked smile made her uneasy at heart.

"If Horn could not come himself," she said, "why did he not send Athulf,
his faithful friend?" But this question pleased the traitor so little
that he gave her no answer.

Her father blessed her, and she set forth, wringing her white hands.

Meanwhile, Horn, sailing from the south, was driven in shore by a storm,
and he beheld Figold's high tower, and asked who had built such an ugly
thing. He thought he heard a low murmuring as his ship flew past it
before the wind, but knew not what it might be. Soon he saw the
battlements of King Aylmer's palace rising in the distance; there
Riminild should be, looking out for him, but all was bare and empty. It
seemed to him as though a star were missing from heaven; and as he
crossed the threshold the ill news was told him how Figold had carried
off Riminild. Horn had no mind to linger with the King. "Come, Athulf,
true friend," said he, "and help me to search for her." So they searched
far and near, in vain, till at last Horn remembered that strange tower
in the sea, and set sail for the lonely fortress where Figold had the
fair princess in his evil keeping. "Now, my eleven companions, and you,
too, Athulf," said he, "abide here while I go up alone with my horn. God
hath shown me how to order this attempt."

He left his sword on the ship, and took only a fishing line with a long
hook. Then round and round the tower he walked, and he blew a loud blast
out into the raging storm, until a head appeared out of a hole in the
wall of the tower--it was that wicked knave Figold's; and Horn cast his
line, and hauled the writhing traitor clean out of the tower. He whirled
round the sea wolf at the end of the line, and swung him over the water
by the sheer force of his arm, so that he was cast over to Athulf in the
ship; and sore afraid was the traitor when the true men on board seized
him.

Then Horn took up his bugle once more and sounded it so loudly that at
the first blast the door was uncovered; at the second he could enter the
tower; the third was heard as he led Riminild forth. Lightly did he
clasp her round the waist and swing her into his boat, and then pulled
for the ship.

He brought Riminild on board his ship, and called to his band, "Ho
there, my trusty eleven! Our voyage is ended, and we will now go merrily
home. And you, Athulf, my chosen and tried friend, shall now have your
guerdon; I will bring you to your bride Swanhild, and Riminild and I
will be wedded at the same time--the same wedding feast shall serve us
both.

"And Riminild, my sweet pearl, whom I have rescued from the deep, not
all that I have suffered on your account grieves me like the perfidy
this false one wrought on you, my loving heart. Through him the goodly
tale of my twelve followers is broken; now when they gather round the
table, one seat will ever be empty. Must it ever be that no dozen of men
can be got together but one will prove a traitor?"

Then he bade them "Set the traitor in the boat and let it drift out to
sea, as we poor children were made to do aforetime. Let the waves bear
away treachery as once they bore innocence--our ship will make better
speed; and as for him, let him drift till he find a land where no
traitors are."




CHAPTER IV

SIR GALAHAD


  My good blade carves the casques of men,
    My tough lance thrusteth sure,
  My strength is as the strength of ten,
    Because my heart is pure.
  The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
    The hard brands shiver on the steel,
  The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
    The horse and rider reel:
  They reel, they roll in changing lists,
    And when the tide of combat stands,
  Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
    That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

  How sweet are looks that ladies bend
    On whom their favours fall!
  For them I battle till the end,
    To save from shame and thrall:
  But all my heart is drawn above,
    My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine:
  I never felt the kiss of love,
    Nor maiden's hand in mine.
  More bounteous aspects on me beam,
    Me mightier transports move and thrill;
  So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer
    A virgin heart in work and will.

  When down the stormy crescent goes,
    A light before me swims,
  Between dark stems the forest glows,
    I hear a noise of hymns:
  Then by some secret shrine I ride;
    I hear a voice but none are there;
  The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
    The tapers burning fair.
  Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
    The silver vessels sparkle clean,
  The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,
    And solemn chaunts resound between.

  Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres
    I find a magic bark;
  I leap on board: no helmsman steers:
    I float till all is dark.
  A gentle sound, an awful light!
    Three angels bear the Holy Grail:
  With folded feet, in stoles of white,
    On sleeping wings they sail.
  Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!
    My spirit beats her mortal bars,
  As down dark tides the glory slides,
    And star-like mingles with the stars.

  When on my goodly charger borne
    Thro' dreaming towns I go,
  The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
    The streets are dumb with snow.
  The tempest crackles on the leads,
    And, ringing, spins from brand and mail;
  But o'er the dark a glory spreads,
    And gilds the driving hail.

  I leave the plain, I climb the height;
    No branchy thicket shelter yields;
  But blessed forms in whistling storms
    Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

  A maiden knight--to me is given
    Such hope, I know not fear;
  I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
    That often meet me here.
  I muse on joy that will not cease,
    Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
  Pure lilies of eternal peace,
    Whose odors haunt my dreams;
  And, stricken by an angel's hand,
    This mortal armour that I wear,
  This weight and size, this heart and eyes,
    Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.

  The clouds are broken in the sky,
    And thro' the mountain-walls
  A rolling organ-harmony
    Swells up, and shakes and falls.
  Then move the trees, the copses nod,
    Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
  "O just and faithful knight of God!
    Ride on! the prize is near."
  So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;
    By bridge and ford, by park and pale,
  All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,
    Until I find the Holy Grail.




CHAPTER V

RUSTEM AND SOHRAB


Give ear unto the combat of Sohrab against Rustem, though it be a tale
replete with tears.

It came about that on a certain day Rustem arose from his couch, and his
mind was filled with forebodings. He bethought him therefore to go out
to the chase. So he saddled Rakush and made ready his quiver with
arrows. Then he turned him unto the wilds that lie near Turan, even in
the direction of the city of Samengan. And when he was come nigh unto
it, he started a herd of asses and made sport among them till that he
was weary of the hunt. Then he caught one and slew it and roasted it for
his meal, and when he had eaten it and broken the bones for the marrow,
he laid himself down to slumber, and Rakush cropped the pasture beside
him.

Now while the hero was sleeping there passed by seven knights of Turan,
and they beheld Rakush and coveted him. So they threw their cords at him
to ensnare him. But Rakush, when he beheld their design, pawed the
ground in anger, and fell upon them as he had fallen upon the lion. And
of one man he bit off the head, and another he struck down under his
hoofs, and he would have overcome them all, but they were too many. So
they ensnared him and led him into the city, thinking in their hearts,
"Verily a goodly capture have we made." But Rustem when he awoke from
his slumbers was downcast and sore grieved when he saw not his steed,
and he said unto himself:

"How can I stand against the Turks, and how can I traverse the desert
alone?"

And his heart was full of trouble. Then he sought for the traces of the
horse's hoofs, and followed them, and they led him even unto the gates
of the city. Now when those within beheld Rustem, and that he came
before them on foot, the King and the nobles came forth to greet him,
and inquired of him how this was come about. Then Rustem told them how
Rakush was vanished while he slumbered, and how he had followed his
track even unto these gates. And he sware a great oath, and vowed that
if his courser were not restored unto him many heads should quit their
trunks. Then the King of Samengan, when he saw that Rustem was beside
himself with anger, spoke words of soothing, and said that none of his
people should do wrong unto the hero; and he begged him that he would
enter into his house and abide with him until that search had been made,
saying:

"Surely Rakush cannot be hid."

And Rustem was satisfied at these words, and cast suspicion from his
spirit, and entered the house of the King, and feasted with him, and
beguiled the hours with wine. And the King rejoiced in his guest, and
encompassed him with sweet singers and all honour. And when the night
was fallen the King himself led Rustem unto a couch perfumed with musk
and roses, and he bade him slumber sweetly until the morning. And he
declared to him yet again that all was well for him and for his steed.

Now when a portion of the night was spent, and the star of morning stood
high in the arch of heaven, the door of Rustem's chamber was opened, and
a murmur of soft voices came in from the threshold. And there stepped
within a slave bearing a lamp perfumed with amber, and a woman whose
beauty was veiled came after her. And as she moved musk was scattered
from her robes. And the women came nigh unto the bed of the hero heavy
with wine and slumber. And he was amazed when he saw them. And when he
had roused him somewhat he spake and said:

"Who are thou, and what is thy name and thy desire, and what seekest
thou from me in the dark night?"

Then the Peri-faced answered him, saying, "I am Tahmineh, the daughter
of the King of Samengan, the race of the leopard and the lion, and none
of the princes of this earth are worthy of my hand, neither hath any man
seen me unveiled. But my heart is torn with anguish, and my spirit is
tossed with desire, for I have heard of thy deeds of prowess, and how
thou fearest neither Deev nor lion, neither leopard nor crocodile, and
how thy hand is swift to strike, and how thou didst venture alone into
Mazinderan, and how wild asses are devoured of thee, and how the earth
groaneth under the tread of thy feet, and how men perish at thy blows,
and how even the eagle dareth not swoop down upon her prey when she
beholdeth thy sword. These things and more have they told unto me, and
mine eyes have yearned to look upon thy face. And now hath God brought
thee within the gates of my father, and I am come to say unto thee that
I am thine if thou wilt hear me, and if thou wilt not, none other will I
espouse. And consider, O Pehliva, how that love has obscured mine
understanding and withdrawn me from the bosom of discretion, yet
peradventure God will grant unto me a son like to thee for strength and
valour, to whom shall be given the empire of the world. And if thou wilt
listen unto me, I will lead forth before thee Rakush thy steed, and I
will place under thy feet the land of Samengan."

Now while this moon of beauty was yet speaking, Rustem regarded her. And
he saw that she was fair, and that wisdom abode in her mind; and when he
heard of Rakush, his spirit was decided within him, and he held that
this adventure could not end save gloriously. So he sent a Mubid unto
the King and demanded the hand of Tahmineh from her father. And the
King, when he heard the news, was rejoiced, and gave his daughter unto
the Pehliva, and they concluded an alliance according to custom and the
rites. And all men, young and old, within the house and city of the King
were glad at this alliance, and called down blessings upon Rustem.

Now Rustem, when he was alone with the Peri-faced, took from his arm an
onyx that was known unto all the world. And he gave it to her, and said:

"Cherish this jewel, and if Heaven cause thee to give birth unto a
daughter, fasten it within her locks, and it will shield her from evil;
but if it be granted unto thee to bring forth a son, fasten it upon his
arm, that he may wear it like his father. And he shall be strong as
Keriman, of stature like unto Saum the son of Neriman, and of grace of
speech like unto Zal, my father."

The Peri-faced, when she had heard these words, was glad in his
presence. But when the day was passed there came in unto them the King
her father, and he told Rustem how that tidings of Rakush were come unto
his ears, and how that the courser would shortly be within the gates.
And Rustem, when he heard it, was filled with longing after his steed,
and when he knew that he was come he hastened forth to caress him. And
with his own hands he fastened the saddle, and gave thanks unto Ormuzd,
who had restored his joy between his hands. Then he knew that the time
to depart was come. And he opened his arms and took unto his heart
Tahmineh the fair of face, and he bathed her cheek with his tears and
covered her hair with kisses. Then he flung him upon Rakush, and the
swift-footed bare him quickly from out of her sight. And Tahmineh was
sorrowful exceedingly, and Rustem too was filled with thoughts as he
turned him back unto Zaboulistan. And he pondered this adventure in his
heart, but to no man did he speak of what he had seen or done.

Now when nine moons had run their course there was born unto Tahmineh a
son in the likeness of his father, a babe whose mouth was filled with
smiles, wherefore men called him Sohrab. And when he numbered but one
month he was like unto a child of twelve, and when he numbered five
years he was skilled in arms and all the arts of war, and when ten years
were rolled above his head there was none in the land that could resist
him in the games of strength. Then he came before his mother and spake
words of daring. And he said:

"Since I am taller and stouter than my peers, teach unto me my race and
lineage, and what I shall say when men ask me the name of my sire. But
if thou refuse an answer unto my demands, I will strike thee out from
the rolls of the living."

When Tahmineh beheld the ardour of her son, she smiled in her spirit
because that his fire was like to that of his father. And she opened her
mouth and said:

"Hear my words, O my son, and be glad in thine heart, neither give way
in thy spirit to anger. For thou art the offspring of Rustem, thou art
descended from the seed of Saum and Zal, and Neriman was thy forefather.
And since God made the world it hath held none like unto Rustem, thy
sire."

Then she showed to him a letter written by the Pehliva, and gave to him
the gold and jewels Rustem had sent at his birth. And she spake and
said:

"Cherish these gifts with gratitude, for it is thy father who hath sent
them. Yet remember, O my son, that thou close thy lips concerning these
things; for Turan groaneth under the hand of Afrasiyab, and he is foe
unto Rustem the glorious. If, therefore, he should learn of thee, he
would seek to destroy the son for hatred of the sire. Moreover, O my
boy, if Rustem learned that thou wert become a mountain of valour,
perchance he would demand thee at my hands, and the sorrow of thy loss
would crush the heart of thy mother."

But Sohrab replied, "Nought can be hidden upon earth for aye. To all men
are known the deeds of Rustem, and since my birth be thus noble,
wherefore hast thou kept it dark from me so long? I will go forth with
an army of brave Turks and lead them unto Iran, I will cast Kai Kaous
from off his throne, I will give to Rustem the crown of the Kaianides,
and together we will subdue the land of Turan, and Afrasiyab shall be
slain by my hands. Then will I mount the throne in his stead. But thou
shalt be called Queen of Iran, for since Rustem is my father and I am
his son no other kings shall rule in this world, for to us alone
behoveth it to wear the crowns of might. And I pant in longing after the
battlefield, and I desire that the world should behold my prowess. But a
horse is needful unto me, a steed tall and strong of power to bear me,
for it beseemeth me not to go on foot before mine enemies."

Now Tahmineh, when she had heard the words of this boy, rejoiced in her
soul at his courage. So she bade the guardians of the flocks lead out
the horses before Sohrab her son. And they did as she had bidden, and
Sohrab surveyed the steeds, and tested their strength like as his father
had done before him of old, and he bowed them under his hand, and he
could not be satisfied. And thus for many days did he seek a worthy
steed. Then one came before him and told of a foal sprung from Rakush,
the swift of foot. When Sohrab heard the tidings he smiled, and bade
that the foal be led before him. And he tested it and found it to be
strong. So he saddled it and sprang upon its back, and cried, saying:

"Now that I own a horse like thee, the world shall be made dark to
many."

Then he made ready for war against Iran, and the nobles and warriors
flocked around him. And when all was in order Sohrab came before his
grandsire and craved his counsel and his aid to go forth into the land
of Iran and seek out his father. And the King of Samengan, when he heard
these wishes, deemed them to be just, and he opened the doors of his
treasures without stint and gave unto Sohrab of his wealth, for he was
filled with pleasure at this boy. And he invested Sohrab with all the
honours of a King, and he bestowed on him all the marks of his good
pleasure.

Meantime a certain man brought news unto Afrasiyab that Sohrab was
making ready an army to fall upon Iran, and to cast Kai Kaous from off
his throne. And he told Afrasiyab how the courage and valour of Sohrab
exceeded words. And Afrasiyab, when he heard this, hid not his
contentment, and he called before him Human and Barman, the doughty.
Then he bade them gather together an army and join the ranks of Sohrab,
and he confided to them his secret purpose, but he enjoined them tell no
man thereof. For he said:

"Into our hands hath it been given to settle the course of the world.
For it is known unto me that Sohrab is sprung from Rustem the Pehliva,
but from Rustem must it be hidden who it is that goeth out against him,
then peradventure he will perish by the hands of this young lion, and
Iran, devoid of Rustem, will fall a prey into my hands. Then we will
subdue Sohrab also, and all the world will be ours. But if it be written
that Sohrab fall under the hand of Tehemten, then the grief he shall
endure when he shall learn that he hath slain his son will bring him to
the grave for sorrow."

So spake Afrasiyab in his guile, and when he had done unveiling his
black heart he bade the warriors depart unto Samengan. And they bare
with them gifts of great price to pour before the face of Sohrab. And
they bare also a letter filled with soft words. And in the letter
Afrasiyab lauded Sohrab for his resolve, and told him how that if Iran
be subdued the world would henceforth know peace, for upon his own head
should he place the crown of the Kaianides; and Turan, Iran, and
Samengan should be as one land.

When Sohrab had read this letter, and saw the gifts and the aid sent out
to him, he rejoiced aloud, for he deemed that now none could withstand
his might. So he caused the cymbals of departure to be clashed, and the
army made them ready to go forth. Then Sohrab led them into the land of
Iran. And their track was marked by desolation and destruction, for they
spared nothing that they passed. And they spread fire and dismay abroad,
and they marched on unstayed until they came unto the White Castle, the
fortress wherein Iran put its trust.

Now the guardian of the castle was named Hujir, and there lived with him
Gustahem the grave, but he was grown old, and could aid no longer save
with his counsels. And there abode also his daughter Gurdafrid, a
warlike maid, firm in the saddle, and practised in the fight. Now when
Hujir beheld from afar a dusky cloud of armed men he came forth to meet
them. And Sohrab, when he saw him, drew his sword, and demanded his
name, and bade him prepare to meet his end. And he taunted him with
rashness that he was come forth thus unaided to stand against a lion.
But Hujir answered Sohrab with taunts again, and vowed that he would
sever his head from his trunk and send it for a trophy unto the Shah.
Yet Sohrab only smiled when he heard these words, and he challenged
Hujir to come near. And they met in combat, and wrestled sore one with
another, and stalwart were their strokes and strong; but Sohrab overcame
Hujir as though he were an infant, and he bound him and sent him captive
unto Human.

But when those within the castle learned that their chief was bound they
raised great lamentation, and their fears were sore. And Gurdafrid, too,
when she learned it, was grieved, but she was ashamed also for the fate
of Hujir. So she took forth burnished mail and clad herself therein, and
she hid her tresses under a helmet of Roum, and she mounted a steed of
battle and came forth before the walls like to a warrior. And she
uttered a cry of thunder, and flung it amid the ranks of Turan, and she
defied the champions to come forth to single combat. And none came, for
they beheld her how she was strong, and they knew not that it was a
woman, and they were afraid. But Sohrab, when he saw it, stepped forth
and said:

"I will accept thy challenge, and a second prize will fall into my
hands."

Then he girded himself and made ready for the fight. And the maid, when
she saw he was ready, rained arrows upon him with art, and they fell
quick like hail, and whizzed about his head; and Sohrab, when he saw it,
could not defend himself, and was angry and ashamed. Then he covered his
head with his shield and ran at the maid. But she, when she saw him
approach, dropped her bow and couched a lance, and thrust at Sohrab with
vigour, and shook him mightily, and it wanted little and she would have
thrown him from his seat. And Sohrab was amazed, and his wrath knew no
bounds. Then he ran at Gurdafrid with fury, and seized the reins of her
steed, and caught her by the waist, and tore her armour, and threw her
upon the ground. Yet ere he could raise his hand to strike her, she drew
her sword and shivered his lance in twain, and leaped again upon her
steed. And when she saw that the day was hers, she was weary of further
combat, and she sped back unto the fortress. But Sohrab gave rein unto
his horse, and followed after her in his great anger. And he caught her,
and seized her, and tore the helmet off her head, for he desired to look
upon the face of the man who could withstand the son of Rustem. And lo!
when he had done so, there rolled forth from the helmet coils of dusky
hue, and Sohrab beheld it was a woman that had overcome him in the
fight. And he was confounded. But when he had found speech he said:

"If the daughters of Iran are like to thee, and go forth unto battle,
none can stand against this land."

Then he took his cord and threw it about her, and bound her in its
snare, saying:

"Seek not to escape me, O moon of beauty, for never hath prey like unto
thee fallen between my hands."

Then Gurdafrid, full of wile, turned unto him her face that was
unveiled, for she beheld no other means of safety, and she said unto
him:

"O hero without flaw, is it well that thou shouldest seek to make me
captive, and show me unto the army? For they have beheld our combat, and
that I overcame thee, and surely now they will gibe when they learn that
thy strength was withstood by a woman. Better would it beseem thee to
hide this adventure, lest thy cheeks have cause to blush because of me.
Therefore let us conclude a peace together. The castle shall be thine,
and all it holds; follow after me then, and take possession of thine
own."

Now Sohrab, when he had listened, was beguiled by her words and her
beauty, and he said:

"Thou dost wisely to make peace with me, for verily these walls could
not resist my might."

And he followed after her unto the heights of the castle, and he stood
with her before its gates. And Gustahem, when he saw them, opened the
portal, and Gurdafrid stepped within the threshold, but when Sohrab
would have followed after her she shut the door upon him. Then Sohrab
saw that she had befooled him, and his fury knew no bounds. But ere he
was recovered from his surprise she came out upon the battlements and
scoffed at him, and counselled him to go back whence he was come; for
surely, since he could not stand against a woman, he would fall an easy
prey before Rustem, when the Pehliva should have learned that robbers
from Turan were broken into the land. And Sohrab was made yet madder for
her words, and he departed from the walls in his wrath, and rode far in
his anger, and spread terror in his path. And he vowed that he would yet
bring the maid into subjection.

In the meantime Gustahem the aged called before him a scribe, and bade
him write unto Kai Kaous all that was come about, and how an army was
come forth from Turan, at whose head rode a chief that was a child in
years, a lion in strength and stature. And he told how Hujir had been
bound, and how the fortress was like to fall into the hands of the
enemy; for there were none to defend it save only his daughter and
himself and he craved the Shah to come to their aid.

Albeit when the day had followed yet again upon the night, Sohrab made
ready his host to fall upon the castle. But when he came near thereto he
found it was empty, and the doors thereof stood open, and no warriors
appeared upon its walls. And he was surprised, for he knew not that in
the darkness the inmates were fled by a passage that was hidden under
the earth. And he searched the building for Gurdafrid, for his heart
yearned after her in love and he cried aloud:

"Woe, woe is me that this moon is vanished behind the clouds!"

Now when Kai Kaous had gotten the writing of Gustahem, he was sore
afflicted and much afraid, and he called about him his nobles and asked
their counsels. And he said:

"Who shall stand against this Turk? For Gustahem doth liken him in power
unto Rustem, and saith he resembleth the seed of Neriman."

Then the warriors cried with one accord, "Unto Rustem alone can we look
in this danger!"

And Kai Kaous hearkened to their voice, and he called for a scribe and
dictated unto him a letter. And he wrote unto his Pehliva, and invoked
the blessings of Heaven upon his head, and he told him all that was come
to pass, and how new dangers threatened Iran, and how to Rustem alone
could he look for help in his trouble. And he recalled unto Tehemten all
that he had done for him in the days that were gone by, and he entreated
him once again to be his refuge. And he said:

"When thou shalt receive this letter, stay not to speak the word that
hangeth upon thy lips; and if thou bearest roses in thy hands, stop not
to smell them, but haste thee to help us in our need."

Then Kai Kaous sent forth Gew with this writing unto Zaboulistan, and
bade him neither rest nor tarry until he should stand before the face of
Rustem. And he said--

"When thou hast done my behest, turn thee again unto me; neither abide
within the courts of the Pehliva, nor linger by the roadside."

And Gew did as the Shah commanded, and took neither food nor rest till
he set foot within the gates of Rustem. And Rustem greeted him kindly,
and asked him of his mission; and when he had read the writing of the
Shah, he questioned Gew concerning Sohrab. For he said:

"I should not marvel if such an hero arose in Iran, but that a warrior
of renown should come forth from amid the Turks, I cannot believe it.
But thou sayest none knoweth whence cometh this knight. I have myself a
son in Samengan, but he is yet an infant, and his mother writeth to me
that he rejoiceth in the sports of his age, and though he be like to
become a hero among men, his time is not yet come to lead forth an army.
And that which thou sayest hath been done; surely it is not the work of
a babe. But enter, I pray thee, into my house, and we will confer
together concerning this adventure."

Then Rustem bade his cooks make ready a banquet, and he feasted Gew, and
troubled his head with wine, and caused him to forget cares and time.
But when morn was come Gew remembered the commands of the Shah that he
tarry not, but return with all speed, and he spake thereof to Rustem,
and prayed him to make known his resolve. But Rustem spake, saying:

"Disquiet not thyself, for death will surely fall upon these men of
Turan. Stay with me yet another day and rest, and water thy lips that
are parched. For though this Sohrab be a hero like to Saum and Zal and
Neriman, verily he shall fall by my hands."

And he made ready yet another banquet, and three days they caroused
without ceasing. But on the fourth Gew uprose with resolve, and came
before Rustem girt for departure. And he said:

"It behoveth me to return, O Pehliva, for I bethink me how Kai Kaous is
a man hard and choleric, and the fear of Sohrab weigheth upon his heart,
and his soul burneth with impatience, and he hath lost sleep, and hath
hunger and thirst on this account. And he will be wroth against us if we
delay yet longer to do his behest."

Then Rustem said, "Fear not, for none on earth dare be angered with me."

But he did as Gew desired, and made ready his army, and saddled Rakush,
and set forth from Zaboulistan, and a great train followed after him.

Now when they came nigh unto the courts of the Shah, the nobles came
forth to meet them, and do homage before Rustem. And when they were come
in, Rustem gat him from Rakush and hastened into the presence of his
lord. But Kai Kaous, when he beheld him, was angry, and spake not, and
his brows were knit with fury; and when Rustem had done obeisance before
him, he unlocked the doors of his mouth, and words of folly escaped his
lips. And he said:

"Who is Rustem, that he defieth my power and disregardeth my commands?
If I had a sword within my grasp I would spilt his head like to an
orange. Seize him, I command, and hang him upon the nearest gallows, and
let his name be never spoken in my presence."

When he heard these words Gew trembled in his heart, but he said, "Dost
thou set forth thy hand against Rustem?"

And the Shah when he heard it was beside himself, and he cried with a
loud voice that Gew be hanged together with the other; and he bade Tus
lead them forth. And Tus would have led them out, for he hoped the anger
of the Shah would be appeased; but Rustem broke from his grasp and stood
before Kai Kaous, and all the nobles were filled with fear when they saw
his anger. And he flung reproaches at Kai Kaous, and he recalled to him
his follies, and the march into Mazinderan and Hamaveran, and his flight
into Heaven; and he reminded him how that but for Rustem he would not
now be seated upon the throne of light. And he bade him threaten Sohrab
the Turk with his gallows, and he said:

"I am a free man and no slave, and am servant alone unto God; and
without Rustem Kai Kaous is as nothing, And the world is subject unto
me, and Rakush is my throne, and my sword is my seal, and my helmet my
crown. And but for me, who called forth Kai Kobad, thine eyes had never
looked upon this throne. And had I desired it I could have sat upon its
seat. But now am I weary of thy follies, and I will turn me away from
Iran, and when this Turk shall have put you under his yoke I shall not
learn thereof."

Then he turned him and strode from out the presence-chamber. And he
sprang upon Rakush, who waited without, and he was vanished from before
their eyes ere yet the nobles had rallied from their astonishment. And
they were downcast and oppressed with boding cares, and they held
counsel among themselves what to do; for Rustem was their mainstay, and
they knew that, bereft of his arm and counsel, they could not stand
against this Turk. And they blamed Kai Kaous, and counted over the good
deeds that Rustem had done for him, and they pondered and spake long.
And in the end they resolved to send a messenger unto Kai Kaous, and
they chose from their midst Gudarz the aged, and bade him stand before
the Shah. And Gudarz did as they desired, and he spake long and without
fear, and he counted over each deed that had been done by Rustem; and he
reproached the Shah with his ingratitude, and he said how Rustem was the
shepherd, and how the flock could not be led without its leader. And Kai
Kaous heard him unto the end, and he knew that his words were the words
of reason and truth, and he was ashamed of that which he had done, and
confounded when he beheld his acts thus naked before him. And he humbled
himself before Gudarz, and said:

"That which thou sayest, surely it is right."

And he entreated Gudarz to go forth and seek Rustem, and bid him forget
the evil words of his Shah, and bring him back to the succor of Iran.
And Gudarz hastened forth to do as Kai Kaous desired, and he told the
nobles of his mission, and they joined themselves unto him, and all the
chiefs of Iran went forth in quest of Rustem. And when they had found
him, they prostrated themselves into the dust before him, and Gudarz
told him of his mission, and he prayed him to remember that Kai Kaous
was a man devoid of understanding, whose thoughts flowed over like to
new wine that fermenteth. And he said:

"Though Rustem be angered against the King, yet hath the land of Iran
done no wrong that it should perish at his hands. Yet, if Rustem save it
not, surely it will fall under this Turk."

But Rustem said, "My patience hath an end, and I fear none but God. What
is this Kai Kaous that he should anger me? and what am I that I have
need of him? I have not deserved the evil words that he spake unto me,
but now will I think of them no longer, but cast aside all thoughts of
Iran."

When the nobles heard these words they grew pale, and fear took hold on
their hearts. But Gudarz, full of wisdom, opened his mouth, and said:

"O Pehliva! the land, when it shall learn of this, will deem that Rustem
is fled before the face of this Turk; and when men shall believe that
Tehemten is afraid, they will cease to combat, and Iran will be
downtrodden at his hands. Turn thee not, therefore, at this hour from
thy allegiance to the Shah, and tarnish not thy glory by this retreat,
neither suffer that the downfall of Iran rest upon thy head. Put from
thee, therefore, the words that Kai Kaous spake in his empty anger, and
lead us forth to battle against this Turk. For it must not be spoken
that Rustem feared to fight a beardless boy."

And Rustem listened, and pondered these words in his heart, and knew
that they were good. But he said:

"Fear hath never been known of me, neither hath Rustem shunned the din
of arms, and I depart not because of Sohrab, but because that scorn and
insult have been my recompense."

Yet when he had pondered a while longer, he saw that he must return unto
the Shah. So he did that which he knew to be right, and he rode till he
came unto the gates of Kai Kaous, and he strode with a proud step into
his presence.

Now when the Shah beheld Rustem from afar, he stepped down from off his
throne and came before Pehliva, and craved his pardon for that which was
come about. And he said how he had been angered because Rustem had
tarried in his coming, and how haste was his birthright, and how he had
forgotten himself in his vexation. But now was his mouth filled with the
dust of repentance. And Rustem said:

"The world is the Shah's, and it behoveth thee to do as beseemeth thee
best with thy servants. And until old age shall my loins be girt in
fealty unto thee. And may power and majesty be thine for ever!"

And Kai Kaous answered and said, "O my Pehliva, may thy days be blessed
unto the end!"

Then he invited him to feast with him, and they drank wine till far into
the night, and held counsel together how they should act; and slaves
poured rich gifts before Rustem, and the nobles rejoiced, and all was
well again within the gates of the King.

Then when the sun had risen and clothed the world with love, the
clarions of war were sounded throughout the city, and men made them
ready to go forth in enmity before the Turks. And the legions of Persia
came forth at the behest of their Shah, and their countless thousands
hid the earth under their feet, and the air was darkened by their
spears. And when they were come unto the plains where stood the fortress
of Hujir, they set up their tents as was their manner. So the watchman
saw them from the battlements, and he set up a great cry. And Sohrab
heard the cry, and questioned the man wherefore he shouted; and when he
learned that the enemy were come, he rejoiced, and demanded a cup of
wine, and drank to their destruction. Then he called forth Human and
showed him the army, and bade him be of good cheer, for he said that he
saw within its ranks no hero of mighty mace who could stand against
himself. So he bade his warriors to a banquet of wine, and he said that
they would feast until the time was come to meet their foes in battle.
And they did as Sohrab said.

Now when night had thrown her mantle over the earth, Rustem came before
the Shah and craved that he would suffer him to go forth beyond the camp
that he might see what manner of man was this stripling. And Kai Kaous
granted his request, and said that it was worthy a Pehliva of renown.
Then Rustem went forth disguised in the garb of a Turk, and he entered
the castle in secret, and he came within the chamber where Sohrab held
his feast. Now when he had looked upon the boy he saw that he was like
to a tall cypress of good sap, and that his arms were sinewy and strong
like to the flanks of a camel, and that his stature was that of a hero.
And he saw that round about him stood brave warriors. And slaves with
golden bugles poured wine before them, and they were all glad, neither
did they dream of sorrow. Then it came about that while Rustem regarded
them, Zindeh changed his seat and came nigh unto the spot where Rustem
was watching. Now Zindeh was brother unto Tahmineh, and she had sent him
forth with her son that he might point out to him his father, whom he
alone knew of all the army, and she did it that harm might not befall if
the heroes should meet in battle. Now Zindeh, when he had changed his
seat, thought that he espied a watcher, and he strode toward the place
where Rustem was hid, and he came before him and said--

"Who art thou? Come forth into the light that I may behold thy face."

But ere he could speak further, Rustem had lifted up his hand and struck
him, and laid him dead upon the ground.

Now Sohrab, when he saw that Zindeh was gone out, was disquieted, and he
asked of his slaves wherefore the hero returned not unto the banquet. So
they went forth to seek him, and when they had found him in his blood,
they came and told Sohrab what they had seen. But Sohrab would not
believe it; so he ran to the spot and bade them bring torches, and all
the warriors and singing girls followed after him. Then when Sohrab saw
that it was true he was sore grieved; but he suffered not that the
banquet be ended, for he would not that the spirits of his men be damped
with pity. So they went back yet again to the feast.

Meanwhile Rustem returned him to the camp, and as he would have entered
the lines he encountered Gew, who went around to see that all was safe.
And Gew, when he saw a tall man clad In the garb of a Turk, drew his
sword and held himself ready for combat. But Rustem smiled and opened
his mouth, and Gew knew his voice, and came to him and questioned him
what he did without in the darkness. And Rustem told him. Then he went
before Kai Kaous also and related what he had seen, and how no man like
unto Sohrab was yet come forth from amid the Turks. And he likened him
unto Saum, the son of Neriman.

Now when the morning was come, Sohrab put on his armour. Then he went
unto a height whence he could look down over the camp of the Iranians.
And he took with him Hujir, and spake to him, saying:

"Seek not to deceive me, nor swerve from the paths of truth. For if thou
reply unto my questions with sincerity, I will loosen thy bonds and give
thee treasures; but if thou deceive me, thou shalt languish till death
in thy chains."

And Hujir said, "I will give answer unto thee according to my
knowledge."

Then Sohrab said, "I am about to question thee concerning the nobles
whose camps are spread beneath our feet, and thou shalt name unto me
those whom I point out. Behold yon tent of gold brocade, adorned with
skins of leopard, before whose doors stand an hundred elephants of war.
Within its gates is a throne of turquoise, and over it floateth a
standard of violet with a moon and sun worked in its centre. Tell unto
me now whose is this pavilion that standeth thus in the midst of the
whole camp?"

And Hujir replied, "It pertaineth unto the Shah of Iran."

Then Sohrab said, "I behold on its right hand yet another tent draped in
the colours of mourning, and above it floateth a standard whereon is
worked an elephant."

And Hujir said, "It is the tent of Tus, the son of Nuder, for he beareth
an elephant as his ensign."

Then Sohrab said, "Whose is the camp in which stand many warriors clad
in rich armour? A flag of gold with a lion worked upon it waveth along
its field."

And Hujir said, "It belongeth unto Gudarz the brave. And those who stand
about it are his sons, for eighty men of might are sprung from his
loins."

Then Sohrab said, "To whom belongeth the tent draped with green tissues?
Before its doors is planted the flag of Kawah. I see upon its throne a
Pehliva, nobler of mien than all his fellows, whose head striketh the
stars. And beside him standeth a steed tall as he, and his standard
showeth a lion and a writhing dragon."

When Hujir heard this question he thought within himself, "If I tell
unto this lion the signs whereby he may know Rustem the Pehliva, surely
he will fall upon him and seek to destroy him. It will beseem me better,
therefore, to keep silent, and to omit his name from the list of the
heroes." So he said unto Sohrab:

"This is some ally who is come unto Kai Kaous from far Cathay, and his
name is not known unto me."

And Sohrab when he heard it was downcast, and his heart was sad that he
could nowhere discover Rustem; and though it seemed unto him that he
beheld the marks whereby his mother said that he would know him, he
could not credit the words of his eyes against the words of Hujir. Still
he asked yet again the name of the warrior, and yet again Hujir denied
it unto him, for it was written that that should come to pass which had
been decreed. But Sohrab ceased not from his questionings. And he asked:

"Who dwelleth beneath the standard with the head of a wolf?"

And Hujir said, "It is Gew, the son of Gudarz, who dwelleth within that
tent, and men call him Gew the valiant."

Then Sohrab said, "Whose is the seat over which are raised awnings and
brocades of Roum, that glisten with gold in the sunlight?"

And Hujir said, "It is the throne of Fraburz, the son of the Shah."

Then Sohrab said, "It beseemeth the son of a Shah to surround himself
with such splendour."

And he pointed unto a tent with trappings of yellow that was encircled
by flags of many colours. And he questioned of its owner.

And Hujir said, "Guraz the lion-hearted is master therein."

Then Sohrab, when he could not learn the tent of his father, questioned
Hujir concerning Rustem, and he asked yet a third time of the green
tent. Yet Hujir ever replied that he knew not the name of its master.
And when Sohrab pressed him concerning Rustem, he said that Rustem
lingered in Zaboulistan, for it was the feast of roses. But Sohrab
refused to give ear unto the thought that Kai Kaous should go forth to
battle without the aid of Rustem, whose might none could match. So he
said unto Hujir:

"And thou show not unto me the tents of Rustem, I will strike thy head
from off thy shoulders, and the world shall fade before thine eyes.
Choose, therefore, the truth or thy life."

And Hujir thought within himself, "Though five score men cannot
withstand Rustem when he be roused to battle-fury, my mind misgiveth me
that he may have found his equal in this boy. And, for that the
stripling is younger, it might come about that he subdue the Pehliva.
What recketh my life against the weal of Iran? I will therefore abandon
me into his hands rather than show unto him the marks of Rustem the
Pehliva. So he said:

"Why seekest thou to know Rustem the Pehliva? Surely thou wilt know him
in battle, and he shall strike thee dumb, and quell thy pride of youth.
Yet I will not show him unto thee."

When Sohrab heard these words he raised his sword and smote Hujir, and
made an end of him with a great blow. Then he made himself ready for
fight, and leaped upon his steed of battle, and he rode till he came
unto the camp of the Iranians, and he broke down the barriers with his
spear, and fear seized upon all men when they beheld his stalwart form
and majesty of mien and action. Then Sohrab opened his mouth, and his
voice of thunder was heard even unto the far ends of the camp. And he
spake words of pride, and called forth the Shah to do battle with him,
and he sware with a loud voice that the blood of Zindeh should be
avenged. Now when Sohrab's voice had run throughout the camp, confusion
spread within its borders, and none of those who stood about the throne
would accept his challenge for the Shah. And with one accord they said
that Rustem was their sole support, and that his sword alone could cause
the sun to weep. And Tus sped him within the courts of Rustem. And
Rustem said:

"The hardest tasks doth Kai Kaous ever lay upon me."

But the nobles would not suffer him to linger, neither to waste time in
words, and they buckled upon him his armour, and they threw his
leopard-skin about him, and they saddled Rakush, and made ready the hero
for the strife. And they pushed him forth, and called after him:

"Haste, haste, for no common combat awaiteth thee, for verily Ahriman
standeth before us."

Now when Rustem was come before Sohrab, and beheld the youth, brave and
strong, with a breast like unto Saum, he said to him:

"Let us go apart from hence, and step forth from out the lines of the
armies."

For there was a zone between the camps that none might pass. And Sohrab
assented to the demand of Rustem, and they stepped out into it, and made
them ready for single combat. But when Sohrab would have fallen upon
him, the soul of Rustem melted with compassion, and he desired to save a
boy thus fair and valiant. So he said unto him:

"O young man, the air is warm and soft, but the earth is cold. I have
pity upon thee, and would not take from thee the boon of life. Yet if we
combat together, surely thou wilt fall by my hands, for none have
withstood my power, neither men nor Deevs nor dragons. Desist,
therefore, from this enterprise, and quit the ranks of Turan, for Iran
hath need of heroes like unto thee."

Now while Rustem spake thus, the heart of Sohrab went out to him. And he
looked at him wistfully, and said:

"O hero, I am about to put unto thee a question, and I entreat of thee
that thou reply to me according to the truth. Tell unto me thy name,
that my heart may rejoice in thy words, for it seemeth unto me that thou
art none other than Rustem, the son of Zal, the son of Saum, the son of
Neriman,"

But Rustem replied, "Thou errest, I am not Rustem, neither am I sprung
from the race of Neriman. Rustem is a Pehliva, but I, I am a slave, and
own neither a crown nor a throne,"

These words spake Rustem that Sohrab might be afraid when he beheld his
prowess, and deem that yet greater might was hidden in the camp of his
enemy. But Sohrab when he heard these words was sad, and his hopes that
were risen so high were shattered, and the day that had looked so bright
was made dark unto his eyes. Then he made him ready for the combat, and
they fought, until their spears were shivered and their swords hacked
like unto saws. And when all their weapons were bent, they betook them
into clubs, and they waged war with these until they were broken. Then
they strove until their mail was torn and their horses spent with
exhaustion, and even then they could not desist, but wrestled with one
another with their hands till that the sweat and blood ran down from
their bodies. And they contended until their throats were parched and
their bodies weary, and to neither was given the victory. They stayed
them a while to rest, and Rustem thought within his mind how all his
days he had not coped with such a hero. And it seemed to him that his
contest with the White Deev had been as nought to this.

Now when they had rested a while they fell to again, and they fought
with arrows, but still none could surpass the other. Then Rustem strove
to hurl Sohrab from his steed, but it availed him naught, and he could
shake him no more than the mountain can be moved from its seat. So they
betook themselves again unto clubs, and Sohrab aimed at Rustem with
might and smote him, and Rustem reeled beneath the stroke, and bit his
lips in agony. Then Sohrab vaunted his advantage, and bade Rustem go and
measure him with his equals; for though his strength be great, he could
not stand against a youth. So they went their ways, and Rustem fell upon
the men of Turan, and spread confusion far and wide among their ranks;
and Sohrab raged along the lines of Iran, and men and horses fell under
his hands. And Rustem was sad in his soul, and he turned with sorrow
into his camp. But when he saw the destruction Sohrab had wrought his
anger was kindled, and he reproached the youth, and challenged him to
come forth yet again to single combat. But because that the day was far
spent they resolved to rest until the morrow.

Then Rustem went before Kai Kaous and told him of this boy of valour,
and he prayed unto Ormuzd that He would give him strength to vanquish
his foe. Yet he made ready also his house lest he should fall in the
fight, and he commanded that a tender message be borne unto Rudabeh, and
he sent words of comfort unto Zal, his father. And Sohrab, too, in his
camp lauded the might of Rustem, and he said how the battle had been
sore, and how his mind had misgiven him of the issue. And he spake unto
Human, saying:

"My mind is filled with thoughts of this aged man, mine adversary, for
it would seem unto me that his stature is like unto mine, and that I
behold about him the tokens that my mother recounted unto me. And my
heart goeth out toward him, and I muse if it be Rustem, my father. For
it behoveth me not to combat him. Wherefore, I beseech thee, tell unto
me how this may be."

But Human answered and said, "Oft have I looked upon the face of Rustem
in battle, and mine eyes have beheld his deeds of valour; but this man
in no wise resembleth him, nor is his manner of wielding his club the
same."

These things spake Human in his vileness, because that Afrasiyab had
enjoined him to lead Sohrab into destruction. And Sohrab held his peace,
but he was not wholly satisfied.

Now when the day had begun to lighten the sky and clear away the
shadows, Rustem and Sohrab strode forth unto the midway spot that
stretched between the armies. And Sohrab bare in his hands a mighty
club, and the garb of battle was upon him; but his mouth was full of
smiles, and he asked of Rustem how he had rested, and he said:

"Wherefore hast thou prepared thy heart for battle? Cast from thee, I
beg, this mace and sword of vengeance, and let us doff our armour, and
seat ourselves together in amity, and let wine soften our angry deeds.
For it seemeth unto me that this conflict is impure. And if thou wilt
listen to my desires, my heart shall speak to thee of love, and I will
make the tears of shame spring up into thine eyes. And for this cause I
ask thee yet again, tell me thy name, neither hide it any longer, for I
behold that thou art of noble race. And it would seem unto me that thou
art Rustem, the chosen one, the Lord of Zaboulistan, the son of Zal, the
son of Saum the hero."

But Rustem answered, "O hero of tender age, we are not come forth to
parley but to combat, and mine ears are sealed against thy words of
lure. I am an old man, and thou art young, but we are girded for battle,
and the Master of the world shall decide between us."

Then Sohrab said, "O man of many years, wherefore wilt thou not listen
to the counsel of a stripling? I desired that thy soul should leave thee
upon thy bed, but thou hast elected to perish in the combat. That which
is ordained must be done, therefore let us make ready for the conflict."

So they made them ready, and when they had bound their steeds they fell
upon each other, and the crash of their encounter was heard like thunder
throughout the camps. And they measured their strength from the morning
until the setting of the sun. And when the day was about to vanish,
Sohrab seized upon Rustem by the girdle and threw him upon the ground,
and kneeled upon him, and drew forth his sword from the scabbard, and
would have severed his head from his trunk. Then Rustem knew that only
wile could save him. So he opened his mouth and said:

"O young man, thou knowest not the customs of the combat. It is written
in the laws of honour that he who overthroweth a brave man for the first
time should not destroy him, but preserve him for fight a second time,
then only is it given unto him to kill his adversary."

And Sohrab listened to Rustem's words of craft and stayed his hand, and
he let the warrior go, and because that the day was ended he sought to
fight no more, but turned him aside and chased the deer until the night
was spent. Then came to him Human, and asked of the adventures of the
day. And Sohrab told him how he had vanquished the tall man, and how he
had granted him freedom. And Human reproached him with his folly, and
said:

"Alas! young man, thou didst fall into a snare, for this is not the
custom among the brave. And now perchance thou wilt yet fall under the
hands of this warrior."

Sohrab was abashed when he heard the words of Human, but he said:

"Be not grieved, for in an hour we meet again in battle, and verily he
will not stand a third time against my youthful strength."

Now while Sohrab was thus doing, Rustem was gone beside a running brook,
and laved his limbs, and prayed to God in his distress. And he entreated
of Ormuzd that He would grant him such strength that the victory must be
his. And Ormuzd heard him, and gave to him such strength that the rock
whereon Rustem stood gave way under his feet, because it had not power
to bear him. Then Rustem saw it was too much, and he prayed yet again
that part thereof be taken from him. And once more Ormuzd listened to
his voice. Then when the time for combat was come, Rustem turned him to
the meeting-place, and his heart was full of cares and his face of
fears. But Sohrab came forth like a giant refreshed, and he ran at
Rustem like to a mad elephant, and he cried with a voice of thunder:

"O thou who didst flee from battle, wherefore art thou come out once
more against me? But I say unto thee, this time shall thy words of guile
avail thee naught."

And Rustem, when he heard him, and looked upon him, was seized with
misgiving, and he learned to know fear. So he prayed to Ormuzd that He
would restore to him the power He had taken back. But he suffered not
Sohrab to behold his fears, and they made them ready for the fight. And
he closed upon Sohrab with all his new-found might, and shook him
terribly, and though Sohrab returned his attacks with vigour, the hour
of his overthrow was come. For Rustem took him by the girdle and hurled
him unto the earth, and he broke his back like to a reed, and he drew
forth his sword to sever his body. Then Sohrab knew it was the end, and
he gave a great sigh, and writhed in his agony, and he said:

"That which is come about, it is my fault, and henceforward will my
youth be a theme of derision among the people. But I sped not forth for
empty glory, but I went out to seek my father; for my mother had told me
by what tokens I should know him, and I perish for longing after him.
And now have my pains been fruitless, for it hath not been given unto me
to look upon his face. Yet I say unto thee, if thou shouldest become a
fish that swimmeth in the depths of the ocean, if thou shouldest change
into a star that is concealed in the farthest heaven, my father would
draw thee forth from thy hiding-place, and avenge my death upon thee
when he shall learn that the earth is become my bed. For my father is
Rustem the Pehliva, and it shall be told unto him how that Sohrab his
son perished in the quest after his face."

When Rustem heard these words his sword fell from out of his grasp, and
he was shaken with dismay. And there broke from his heart a groan as of
one whose heart was racked with anguish. And the earth became dark
before his eyes, and he sank down lifeless beside his son. But when he
had opened his eyes once more, he cried unto Sohrab in the agony of his
spirit. And he said:

"Bearest thou about thee a token of Rustem, that I may know that the
words which thou speakest are true? For I am Rustem the unhappy, and may
my name be struck from the lists of men!"

When Sohrab heard these words his misery was boundless, and he cried:

"If thou art indeed my father, then hast thou stained thy sword in the
life-blood of thy son. And thou didst it of thine obstinacy. For I
sought to turn thee unto love, and I implored of thee thy name, for I
thought to behold in thee the tokens recounted of my mother. But I
appealed unto thy heart in vain, and now is the time gone by for
meeting. Yet open, I beseech thee, mine armour and regard the jewel upon
mine arm. For it is an onyx given unto me by my father, as a token
whereby he should know me."

Then Rustem did as Sohrab bade him, and he opened his mail and saw the
onyx; and when he had seen it he tore his clothes in his distress, and
he cover