William H. Babcock - Cian of the Chariots - Chapter VIII: London and London's Council lyrics

CHAPTER VIII. LONDON AND LONDON'S COUNCIL. I saw Arthur Emperor and conductor of the toil. – LLYWARCH. CONSTANTINE returned cityward with a greater display, wherein Cian had some part, against his will. His chariot was bright and strong again, being prized highly as a proof of unusual resource and imperial favor. After all, it was the easiest way of going, with a gaudy young charioteer to drive. Moreover, Aurelia rode near him, resplendent, watchful. Admiring murmurs from those around showed that the gorgeousness insisted on by her father met their taste, if not wholly her own. And, indeed, her beauty was of a kind to bear much brilliancy of apparelling. Her chief concern was for her wounded guest. The basilica, as the Roman faction called it, was a large domed building of brick and marble, the former predominating in the walls, where the white courses were narrow and far between. Inside, the rule was reversed, the very numerous fluted pillars of the [Page 79] main hall being Parian, or as pure. These were in two stories, the gallery resting on the taller series, and bearing the lesser at its front. All were decorated in the extreme. If such art were not the highest, it at any rate made the place bewilderingly beautiful. There was yet time to explore some part of London before the meeting of the council; so Llywarch and Cian set out on a hasty round. The chariot was discarded by reason of the general narrowness of the streets. Often they had to ride singly, even in the saddle. In the better parts northward, good houses, often of brick, less often of marble, stood, each by itself, in ample grounds; but elsewhere there was chiefly a tangle of alleys and painted or unpainted woodwork. Sometimes a mansion would be found in a pack of shops like booths, attained by hardly pa**able ways. Along the river-front the sailor life and artisan life of foreign lands had made some impress, there being even one little colony of Saxons on doubtful tolerance. They were mainly of Kent, and recognized as more human than the lately come barbarians of Eschwine. There was no real risk; indeed, something of courtesy, by Vortimer's command, everywhere awaited them. He had no wish to break prematurely with Arthur the Emperor. [Page 80] Cian was growing weary, when Dynan came flitting after them to bring them back. He was full of excitement and significance, talking rapidly of the strangers in the city, their number and importance, the entanglement of intrigues, the possible surprises. Llywarch replied easily that it must all be very bad indeed if it could in any way surpa** the complexity of that ill-scented labyrinth. But Cian went in silence, with a sense of doom. O, London, London! a chaos of disorder, crudeness, and rottenness; of relics half given over, and new, random pa**ions and expedients warring on every hand! What but worse confusion and destruction could possibly come of it all? The council-hall was full now; eyes were turned every way with uneasy expectancy. At once they were recognized; and a lane was formed for their pa**age to the raised platform or dais, on which Constantine occupied a kind of throne. At their entrance his face lighted, as though the accession were a boon indeed. But instantly it grew high and stern again, the face of the Rubicon and Pompey's overthrow! "How little a thing would unsettle him," thought Cian, taking the seat appointed, near Aurelia. But on either side of the king-elect, Osburn and Tigernach had taken their stand, the one rough-bearded and resolute, the other intent with repressed [Page 81] fierceness, as any one might see. Presently Caowl also was called to this post of honor, where his Hun-like visage, if not a decoration, had very evident value among the ma** of Celtic people. It needed all the towering scorn of Vortimer lo hold them. They looked one at another, and said that he would speak by and by, and they should know. Who, indeed, of them all, Celt or Roman, had such eloquence of lip and swaying hand, such goodliness and mightiness of limb, such smooth, high-tinted, handsome breadth of countenance as Vortimer the Londoner. He stood in the glare of lamp-light, where a little space had been made for him near the right corner of the dais, his head rising above every other with a profusion of clustering hair turning to waves and ringlets of fine-spun gold. It was the head of a Grecian demi-god. "Wonderful – here, and with that name!" exclaimed Cian to the son of the Three Shouts, who leaned over him, expounding men and their histories. But a glance below answered him. Notwithstanding a prevailing likeness, there were hints to be found in face and form of nearly every conquest-wave or importation of soldiery which had ever diversified the island blood. "Not more than – some of the rest of us," answered Dynan. "Look at Caowl. I credit him to some pretty recruit of Scythia who sought the woods [Page 82] a century ago. As to Vortimer, the facts are known. His mother was a slave to the Saxon, or wife unwilling, carried away from her father's corpse, on that night of "fire-waves and flashes" and "the blackness of hell," by one of the Merscwara serving under Elle. Her people had been noble, her slain father a ruler of towns and men. Her grace and delicate loveliness, well taught in every way, are said to have been surpa**ing. For all that, she had no choice but to dwell in the marsh-border with robber-folk and fisher-folk, just settling down to a rude husbandry, and do the bidding of her captor in the rough work to which Saxon women were used. There she bore him this manchild, with girls who died – and that no doubt was best. "But she never found home among them; and always, when occasion served, there came piteous messages from her to London and to the woodland people and to the fortress towns yet held for us, imploring rescue or ransom. But she was beyond help in arms, and the chief who owned her laughed at every offer while her beauty lasted. When that was gone he made his best bargain, Saxon-wise, throwing in the boy rather than lose the sale, and because there was no love between them. "So she got into friendly hands again, choosing the Andred shadow, as best suiting her; for in few years she had grown bitter and crone-like, She gave [Page 83] the boy a new name, taking that of him who first made head against the invaders, that her son might not bear himself less hardily, nor give them any peace. And, indeed, he has done them great injury in raids and thicket fighting, for, however it may be elsewhere, there is not often anything but war along the southern border of the great wood. It is a life to breed turbulence; and he brings his turbulence here, along with those great thews that his father left him, and a tongue that is very persuasive and inciting among men of our race." His attention was wandering to a group of tall men by one of the doors, whom all about them regarded hatefully. Their weapons and costume showed them to be Saxons. One stood in their midst, as if designedly covered by the others, although maintaining a defiant calmness. "The Sword of Fire," murmured Dynan. "Eschwine? Ah!" said Llywarch, "a bad place for him! Hence this quietness. When the wolf is in dread of being bu*ted to d**h, he holds his peace, and maintains his dignity." "Eschwine never yet kept peace in any sense. He will speak; be sure. No doubt he has some ledge of safety." "And who are these?" Another party, wholly mail-clad, were just entering from the opposite side. They pa**ed at once into [Page 84] shadow. One of them wore steel, from crown to toe. It was bright as any mirror. This alone marked him out from all present. "If you know not, how should I?" inquired Dynan significantly. Cian nodded. "But yonder?" said he, quickly casting his eyes toward the gallery, where a hungry intensity of expression, bitter yet exalted, came to a focus. "They are Oisin's Christians, village people mostly. Yet some are Londoners, and they grow in number. Oisin is the man to make them grow. It's a frightful thing to be a preacher, anyway. Think of having to pour heaven and hell white-hot into men, and work holy magic over them – for without miracle, what sanctity? And to have all his labor swept away in an hour by jeering demons! No wonder he chants to wild music!" "That seems the sort of thing to expect of everybody," said Llywarch."Denunciation is the one strong point of your Londoner. Do you happen to see anybody, Dynan, who is not eager to denounce?" The a**embly grew impatient. Constantine had delayed, and delayed again, the inevitable moment of collision. There were derisive calls for "his majesty, the purveyor." "Now, now!" urged Osburn. Constantine arose, incontestably royal in bearing, as though he had [Page 85] chosen his time, and all things were working together excellently. Briefly referring to the choice before them, and the two envoys now in their presence, he called on them first of all to hear the message of "the conqueror of conquerors, the ruin of the Saxon, the salvation of Britain, the immortal and imperial Arthur." At that there was acclaim from all quarters, even the Saxons joining recklessly. Only the man in steel and a few of Oisin's people kept silence. "Prince Llywarch of Argoed is the bearer, of whom you know," said Constantine, presenting him. Vortimer responded for his faction, "We do indeed know of the Prince of Argoed. May his message prove as welcome as his song ever will be." "If aught have a sound of severity," pursued Constantine, "let us remember that our turmoils and standing alone have not been blameless." There were murmurs of displeasure. "At least," he urged, "you will hearken to the great emperor's words, not mine." But he could not keep the deprecating tone from his voice. Llywarch looked over the concourse of his countrymen with a friendly gaze; calmly smiling. None could fancy any unkindness in his face, nor any weakening, by excuse, of what he was given to convey. His voice reached every corner of the hall. He read: – [Page 86] "To the present rulers of London. "Arthur Mabuter, Emperor of the armies of Britain, sends greeting. "That I know not your true title is enough to show the confusion of your unhappy city, wasting her strength in senseless broils, while Britain suffers. Nor do these matters improve; but even grow worse, insomuch that ye can no longer keep your own borders. "Now, we have sure knowledge that the Saxons of Deira and many more are gathering about Caer Ebrauc and beyond the northern woods, undoubtedly in such numbers as will task the whole strength of the land to meet them. If this suffice not, every city, even the most distant, the most secure, will be endangered. "Therefore I, who have heretofore entreated and adjured, do command that you send forthwith a good force of men under capable captains to the camp of our army. "To a**ure this, if the succession be still unsettled in your city, I commend to you the house of Constantine, kindred of Ambrosius, well knowing that there can be none with greater natural claim to your devotion." Uproar was seething before he had ended. The little kingdom had so long ordered, or disordered, its own affairs, that intervention seemed revolutionary, even to those who favored it. "Constantine!" shouted Vortimer, swollen with derision, his arm brandishing as the words crowded. "And is there none nobler for the Briton to follow, for the Briton of Britons to name? Constantine, the valorous purchaser, the hero of the provision trains, the doubtful branch, half disowned and wholly [Page 87] unworthy, of a foreign tree! Is it Arthur of Celliwig who bids us bow down before this shaking, mimic Cæsar? Verily, the curse of the world-curser is dangling about us still." Constantine held a stern front, but shifted uneasily. Aurelia frowned and reddened. More than one of their party was on the point of interrupting. Cian rose first, though painfully, with the silver misletoe full in view, a guaranty to many below. His face, dark and spiritually exalted, was as true to the Celtic race tradition as Vortimer's belied it. His voice went clearly abroad with lingering emphasis, – "I also am a Briton." Whereat, as more than self-evident, both Tigernach and Caowl, with more, began to laugh mightily. "Assuredly," began Vortimer. But Cian went on, – "I have waded with our Emperor waist-deep in the red water and shifting sands of the Glem. When Arthur darted up the Duglas side through the slaughter of the green embankment, I saw the blades and spear-points fly from him like icicles from a winter-sheeted tree when a strong wind shatters them. Let Vortimer lead the men of London, and prove beside the Emperor Arthur what better may be done by British valor unbreathed on of Rome." "I have led them," retorted Vortimer sullenly and defiantly. "In skirmishes,"and "With our aid," in-[Page 88] terjected Caowl and Tigernach. "So will I lead them again," he continued, unheeding. "Think not, Prince Cian, there is no fighting but in the far northwestern hills and northeastern marshes. There Arthur's victories have been. But who fights for us, – a mere wedge of Britondom left pushing out into the ma** of the enemy – the South Saxons, the East Saxons, the men of the populous Caint? Who but ourselves, left lonely? We grapple with them in the fastnesses of the Andred wood, the vales below Caer Collin, the open land between the Thames and the Cray. Wonder not that we must lose a little, when we have held so much so long and so well. Ask not of us to drain away our life-blood, with the Saxon almost at our walls. And since Arthur of Celliwig has done so little to shield or aid us, why should he have more at our hands than we of him?" "No, surely," called out Dynan, "since that would be transcending salvation. Little good would your bush-wrangling have done, had those `northeastern' and `northwestern' battles gone the wrong way." Vortimer waved his hand impatiently. "I hold no discussion with triflers, nor with little emissaries of the usurper. Be sure our goodly city will never need aid nor fear enemy while the head of Vran watches from the White Hill of Cynvelyn." "Woe betide us! Woe betide us!" cried a shrill voice from the gallery, and looking up, they saw the [Page 89] craning, narrow, bird-like visage of Oisin the Christian preacher bent upon them. The power of his eagerness bowed him forward like a strong wind, until he seemed likely to lose his balance and pillar-hold together. His brow was ridged between the eyes as if by unremitting pain. Those eyes burned. The frivolous decorations beside them, cupids and vine-sprays and bacchan*ls, deepened that burning by contrast. He gathered himself a little, as attention centred on him, then burst forth in pa**ionate invective: "Woe betide us for that our strongest can but wrangle over the hearth-fire while the slaughterer is in the fold; that our wisest put their trust in the promise of a dead magician, or in a soldier-king seeking his own glory far away! Woe, for that ye tear each other, one and all, like most unworthy hounds, and are given over to believe the lies of the heathen; and open not your ears to the great cry that goes up continually from the places of anguish and desolation, nor know that the one true cause is the cause of God's suffering people, and the one true leader is the everlasting Lord God of Sabaoth! "What mean ye lurking here or idling otherwhere, when His dread summoning is abroad? What mean ye, when the d**h-wails have not yet ceased their shrilling from the pleasant villages of the East, – those d**h-wails which are but the precursors of your own! Ah, that Arthur could but see as I have seen, [Page 90] and loathe his glory! Far away at the north, far away! – yet how near is the murderer in the home-stead, Eschwine, the Sword of Fire, where hamlets roll up their sad witness unto heaven! "I tell you, men of London, there was a village once. You knew it well, and I knew it to my appalling sorrow. Peace abode there, and comfort and virtue, a little nest of all kindly good that we had made, although so near the heart of all evil that is under the sun. But there came to us a day of rumors, and the going forth to fight, and the quick warnings of those who fled by, all broken, and the growth of clamorous voices, and the crowding, crowding of terror. "The tale – have ye forgotten it? Yet dare not I again abide the telling. Go search the fields for the split skulls of our old men, whitening like dog-bones where they fell under the swords of merry making pursuers. And this were mildness, were mercy! Oh, the damnable sea-people, the wolfish and impious Saxons, abominable heathen, God-hating and God-hated, bloody followers of Eschwine, that prince of demons, whom may God speedily overthrow in the fires of hell forever." A deep angry hum followed this appeal of frenzy. Eyes were turned murderously on the little party of Saxons, who stared back, though doubtless ill at ease. Their leader pushed the others aside, and stepped out, [Page 91] that all might see. He had bony, aquiline features, keen and enterprising, and only less brown than his hair, matching, likewise, his tall, broad-shouldered, very sinewy form; a face hardly capable of indolence or meditation; watchful, unremorseful, daring, dangerous. "With many thanks," he announced, "I am that Prince of Demons, coming under safeguard of Constantine, your king." "Who is this that palters with the powers of darkness?" demanded Oisin. "It was weeks ago," Constantine began, "and for a meeting" – "No time was named," the Saxon shouted; "to your word I hold you." But at this a great baying began. "Give him the safeguard of Hengist," cried one. "Have you forgotten the feast of the Long Knives?" jeered another. A third, behind Oisin, called aloud, "It is time for the Sword of Fire to be quenched in blood." Vortimer, more concerned for his own interest, added his cry, "Behold a Roman cloak thrown over the dripping hands! O men of London, behold the boon and the giver!" Constantine wavered visibly. "It was for your good; it was in your behalf," he protested, facing about, as the stress of the uproar shifted. "It was for our dear city and her people, God be my [Page 92] witness. Yet if I exceeded – I was surely not king then" – But his daughter had half risen, with shamed, imploring eyes that held his own. In the pause, came Eschwine's voice clear and fearless, – "Give me that maid, and I will bring you a crew to lash off this yelping pack, and have done with them. Give me her. She is tenfold the man of any of those who scream and gibber about us." But the very splendor and excellence of her, standing there, made the demand all the more obviously extravagant. Laughter ran through all the hall, with lessening of Eschwine's danger. "Nothing less than the lady Aurelia?" cried Tigernach. "One would think he would be glad of any chance to save his forfeit life." "Forfeit or no," said Aurelia, "he cannot fall here by any hand but that of an enemy to me." Her voice, full and musical, was welcomed by a hush that made every word audible. "Well said, my Roman princess," cried Eschwine jubilantly. "Between us we will make such a throne as no battering-ram on earth shall topple over." Amid the beginning again of wrathful murmurs, Aurelia looked at him steadily. "I can have nought but hatred," she said, "for the doer of deeds of hate, and a good longing to see the smiting down of the merciless." [Page 93] "Amen!" cried Oisin. "I like you none the less for plain speaking," averred Eschwine. "But when was it ever heard that war went on without bloodshed, or that the fighting man with the fury on him could tell one red from another. If I have been at fault, you will have the more scope in tutoring me." "Too many British women have left their homes against their will," said Aurelia, "for one more, though the lowliest – and such am not I – to go with any Saxon willingly." Her face was set and stern. There was no yielding in her voice, but calm scorn and resentment. Eschwine answered, self-restrained, but chafing. "As for the girls taken, spoil is spoil. So has it ever been. These noisy people may have ours, if they can get them. No doubt many of our slaves might be bought back again at fair value. Bear in mind, maiden, that we riders of the rough sea ways are not given to abide denial from any, be she high or low." His followers had tried to check this impolitic close, and now gathered again before him in his defence; for an angry rush was beginning. Eschwine half drew his sword, and frowned, yielding not at all. But Aurelia interposed with a wave of her arm, and the call, "Forbear." Constantine also com-[Page 94] manded, "Hold!" with strenuous endeavor to be resolute. "Back, every man of you!" shouted Vortimer, not to be outdone. Then, turning toward Aurelia, he added, "There is one member of the house of Constantine whom we are all more than willing to obey." And many shouted at his words. "To this I hold you," cried a new voice, with a certain genial roll in it, but more of authority. The man in steel was advancing toward the dais. He bore his armor lightly, as if dancing under it would be easy to him; yet there was dignity in his port also. Though lacking the towering bulk of Vortimer, or even the more than usual height of Cian, his advent was as if real kingliness had but just come among mankind. When he turned his face uncovered to the throng, clean-shaven alone of all that presence, with a complexion of surpa**ing purity, broad of brow under browner waving hair, a face of romance and frankness, yet of forethought and zeal which might become exaltation, men had no need to be told that the very genius of peace and of war shone on them then out of the strong blue eyes of the great Arthur. Those were present who had spoken ill of him but lately; yet there went up from nearly all the same enthusiastic cry, as they knew their visitor. Only Oisin watched silently, and Vortimer with chary [Page 95] participation, each having a few imitators near him. Arthur was kindly smiling, and his speech was easy. "When a man is vexed, and writes over harshly to his friends," he said, "what is there better for him than to come and see them face to face? You had given some cause, you know. Truly, I come in the best of time; for in my own hearing you have announced with acclamation what I would most desire. Most gladly I make your will my own; seeing that of your own free choice, and with uncommon zeal, you have preferred, from the house whereof I wrote, the very maiden gem in her golden setting. Let Aurelia, chosen of Britain as of London, be hence-forward your queen." There was a moment's hush; then the hall rang. Aurelia, thoughtful of her father, had half risen to speak in disclaimer; but something in the Emperor's look, between deprecation and command, held her still. She would not harm nor hamper him in any crisis. Moreover, she had perforce taken the measure of her father more clearly that day. It might be very unfilial to keep him in that dangerous seat. "Vortimer of Andred," resumed Arthur, "you have well said that London needs both men and weapons to regain her losses and hold her lands. Her turn shall come. Together, if we live, we will seek repri-[Page 96] sal, but not now. We have no choice but to meet first, and overthrow, the northern enemy. London must aid me there, and you must lead her men." Vortimer looked unwilling, yet hesitated, as he had not before Constantine or Cian. The unique fame of the Emperor, the continued fortune which marked him out as strangely favored, the almost magical element of surprise in his coming, whatever interval or obstacle might lie between, his astuteness, his amplitude of resource, the concentration of purpose that shone out of him, – all these made refusal very difficult. Before Vortimer had spoken, Arthur turned to Constantine. "Yours shall be a wider charge than I had thought of," said he. "Our armies are larger now than they were, and more scattered. We need a more general and efficient system for supplying them. Constantine, as of old in a lesser undertaking, can do more for us there than any other." There was but little wavering, for the half-crowned was momentarily losing his desire to rule the unruly. "Whoever exalts my daughter exalts myself," he said. "I will go where I may be useful." "What for me?" demanded Eschwine mockingly. Arthur made calm answer, "You have your life. Let that content you. It is safe, till we meet again." "Perhaps I shall keep it a little longer," scoffed the Saxon; "I have carried it in hand over many [Page 97] British men, living and dead. And, queen or no queen, I will have the maid." But now his followers urged him, with entreaty, toward the door; while a crowd of their enemies, hardly held in leash, came close behind. "Llywarch," said Arthur, "see them beyond the city wall." Then he also departed for the villa of Constantine, his abode that night. Soon afterward the great council ended, all its members going their ways.