William H. Babcock - Cian of the Chariots - Chapter XXXIX: The Long Battle of Camelot lyrics

CHAPTER XXXIX. THE LONG BATTLE OF CAMELOT. A wide multitude of Lloegyr went to sleep with the light in their eyes. – TALIESSIN. THE sudden eclipse had come like a miracle of the Evil One upon Aurelia and all others in Camelot. Her anxious forecast had not fancied anything like environment without warning. Even her own hastily summoned Londoners had not been in time. On distant hill-tops she could discern uneasy clusters and ma**es of men whom those about her discerned for friends, willing, but too feeble. There were signal lights also in the darker hours, but not to rival the havoc fires raised by the Saxon wherever a home had been. Whether by night or day, all the nearer world was Cerdic's, who this once had out-Arthured Arthur in the celerity and amplitude of his onfall. Rebelling against isolation, the hemmed-in city sent forth its messages to the eye in many ways. Aurelia added a fantasy of her own, working swiftly in bright large embroidery the silver mistletoe on a ground of gold – crude and large-wrought as meant [Page 363] for far seeing, but legible to all eyes that knew. This she held forth in sunshine, yet withal cautiously, not knowing how far the Emperor would pardon even new a bid for Cian's aid. But it was not in her to keep quite still. When she looked below and around, at the great encompa**ing of armed strength and hate, when she heard their never-ending shouts of insult and triumph, and the recurring waves of furious uproar about the lower wall, – her heart turned faint; then, wakening, cried out keenly for that other heart which had been by her in beleaguerment before. Then she had not feared, nor shown, even to herself, any weakening. Had the charge and care been hers, she would have risen to the task again. But now she had leisure and freedom to feel all the peril of that one city, wrongfully left in it alone. It grew monstrous to her that any one should have doubt of Cian. She saw in him salvation. One morning, at this her task, she filled in person, statuewise, a jutting bit of the castellated rampart, which made a coronal on Arthur's palace-roof. No sentry was there now, the men being all sorely needed. She could see very plainly from her niche what rough handling had been given the great lower earth-wall. More of bristling rubbish was there now – every sort thrown hurriedly in to fill the gaps – than sod or soil or masonry facing. Even dead [Page 364] Saxons, in their armor, hung over it, or dangled down the sides, limp and obstructive; amid the broken pottery and cart-wheels and stones. The night's bloody irruption and expulsion had left also another record in many dark, gleaming spots and streaks between wall and wall. That space glittered vigilantly with British steel; for, though there was brief quiet after such long and savage endeavor, the enemy already began to heave and thrill again, as if to throw a new wave of men on that persistent barrier. Caradoc, in especial, was watching them, as ever since dawn, from beside what had been the northern gate, his ma**ive arm thrown listlessly about a battered pillar, and obviously swollen yet more by recent effort. From its top, on a short staff, a banner blew abroad which he used on great occasions only, – a ground of imperial purple, the still conquering eagle of Rome, silver-white thereon, as became the scion of the last British-Roman Emperor and the great Aurelius Ambrosius. Body-weighted that heroic soul might be, yet was it almost more than humanly untiring. There was something tenderly admiring in Aurelia's sigh, as she thought, "Even Caradoc is aweary." At a sound behind her, she turned, and met Arthur's inquiring eye, which had been on the banner of the mistletoe. For a moment the full glare of astonished suspicion was in it, but for one minute [Page 365] only. Then he smiled, and shook his head. "Well meant, undoubtedly," said he, adding, with relief, as he walked away, "I believe women are all alike in some things." She stared over these last words, half guessing a partnership in fault with Guinevere. Long after, she learned that this was true; the golden-haired empress-to-be, in her terror over barbarian capture, having flaunted all manner of wild signalling toward the watchers of her Lancelot, knowing well by appointment where they should be. Arthur had come suddenly by chance on this discovery, worn with long night combat, and sore from wounds, which he had taken like any common fighter, likewise unnerved and shaken in the revulsion from exceeding effort. He could not read her signs, but he read the look of her face as of something that she would gladly cover; and his words had heat and sternness in them. But Guinevere, rallying, cried indignantly that she was but striving to save herself and everyone from that dreadful Saxon, who, for all Arthur had shown himself able to do, was likely to end Camelot and the marriage his own way. At that heart-thrust, the Emperor held his peace, and strode away, only to find the second woman of his thought doing likewise. And the very first ebb of feeling was toward gratitude that she had thereby answered his latent yearning for some extenuation or defence of Guinevere. [Page 366] Meanwhile, the sunny-haired goddess of Devon wept over him and her ruined plans and her approaching fate. However versatile and fertile in expedient, however ready to turn from man to man, she could not bear to be taken by a Saxon – the very were-wolf of the human race. For the moment she could wish her ambitions blown away like bubbles, and herself hidden safely in some mountain stronghold of Lancelot. But anger rose against him likewise, as she called to mind that he certainly would not come in time to save these nuptials, caring not at all to save her from Cerdic for Arthur; and, it might be, fancying a prospect of some compact with the former, whereby he might gain her yet. But as to this outcome Guinevere herself could have no hope, well knowing (and for the first time sadly) what power was in her beauty. Cerdic, once the winner, would no more part with her than with his heart-beats. Arthur descended to join Caradoc on guard, reasoning that he could scarce fare worse at any male hands than he had, aloft, at fairer ones already. But, when he told his tribulations, the laughter of that large man was very restful. "Let them wave, let them signal," quoth he. "But these pirates of Wess** will give us more serious work before long. They stick to it, I'll say that; and there are enough of them. Great heaven, if only some one would [Page 367] come – Llywarch or Lancelot or Cian, St. Michael or the Devil!" Plainly Caradoc, for all his reckless good humor, was growing thoughtful; an ill portent, as the Emperor felt and knew. He lay down under it, and slept, until the awakening onset called them to fierce toil again. On that day and other days the two queenly women signalled, Aurelia openly now, and with clear mind, the other fitfully and half secretly, as if forgetting that all were aware. There was no answer to either; and most likely their flashes and tokens reached only half-armed ploughmen or other stolid hoverers, who lacked the wit to decipher the message, if not the will to speed it on its way. Arthur saw little of them, though sometimes coming in some breathing-space of the fight, for a kiss from Guinevere. Aurelia now and then went to him below, or within sight and hail, rendering womanly aid to the wounded not far from the crossing of spears. There was a frank comradeship between them, in their slight and hurried intercourse, both having seemingly quite forgotten that there might possibly once have been more. It tantalized Guinevere even in danger, and so little before her wedding-day, so that she came distrustfully nearer the blood-spattering than she could otherwise have been drawn, and had even some share also in the blessings of the [Page 368] defenders. Other women of noble station, penned in that hill-city, where savage incessant battle made the chief bride-music, were also steadfastly ministering. The circuit of defence was lessening; for, in one vast inrush, the Saxons had mastered the lowest wall, and held it long enough to tear the eastern half quite away. So, though at last they were driven off, the labor seemed too great; and it was thought wise to withdraw behind the second line, and throw up a new one close under the eaves of the town. The wedding, as intended, was then two days away; and all agreed in clinging to the set scheme of things as though no enemy were near, – Aurelia, because there could be no better encouragement of the defenders; Guinevere, because it sealed her triumph if rescue should reach them, and to have been an empress, though but for an hour, could not make her lot the worse with Cerdic; Arthur, by reason of dominant will and real impatient love; Caradoc, to please them all, and show the dogged Saxon a something in British pride more dogged still. Nevertheless, what had been the second ring of earthwork was torn from them the very night before the marriage-day; and all through the morning the struggle was desperate over the outer one of the two which remained, in the eagerness of the invader to break through before the ceremony, and seize the bride. But at noon it still held, and Caradoc said, – [Page 369] "Emperor or no, a bridegroom is a bridegroom. Don your fine feathers, my Emperor. I will stand them off yet a while, and let the priests and processionizers work their will on you." "But we shall need you to give away the bride." "Oh, anybody will fight for me those few moments. Hammered mail must be my wedding-garment. Hasten!" Then Arthur, smiling as a commander who finds it arch to obey, went quickly up into the town. More stress and strain of care went with him than ever with a man before on what should be his happiest day. Yet the whooping uproar for which he listened came not then, nor even later, when festal figures in diverse bravery wound through the streets, gorgeous even in distant view, and every bell in Camelot rang out defiantly the coming of the bride. There were those, women chiefly, who rejoiced aloud that the Saxons were too cowed to venture more that day. Arthur looked grave; then all foreboding was lost in the loveliness trembling beside him. But it was no maiden tremor of Guinevere, nor any doubt of her matronly future. Even as they pa**ed up the great cathedral aisle, her terror broke in a cry, and she clung to him as with a spasm; for a more hideous din than ever before – shrill, outlandish, multitudinously jangled – had that moment broken forth also. It verily beat at wall and window and door, [Page 370] rising, as they stood before the prelate, with indescribable change and accession and keen metallic resonances. The Emperor, clutching hard his sword-hilt, half turned from bride and altar, then held himself there perforce with a groan, bidding every man leave them with all speed. He bade also the service go on; for doubtless, when the proper time should come, there would be one to give away the bride. Also from minute to minute he listened, elate that the sound came no nearer, but seemed rather to stay and sway. With the outpealing of the first chant a message came from Caradoc, by one no longer fit for any fighting, but who stumbled as he came, that the prince might not leave quite yet, but would surely be there soon, despite Saxon and Devil. Aurelia, not far away, made one step toward the man as he fell; then, leaving that service to others, where women were so plentiful, swept down the aisle and through the door to somewhat that was less easy. Her eye, weapon-seeking, was on the ground, as she sped over the level crest and down the hill. Midway sprawled a dead soldier in a doorway, and, leaning on his great axe beside him, another, yet alive. "Let me lift you to a better prop, and yield me this," she said kindly with quick words. "I will strike good blows for you." Feeling her health and strength, he said weakly, [Page 371] "I well believe it." Without more, she shifted him gently, and went on very fast, the great axe in her hand, the memory of her old wolf-combat bracing her, – a true battle-goddess. Into the belt of combat she swept at the first opening. By chance it was the part where was the hottest fighting – and Prince Caradoc. Always furious at hand-to-hand, he was trebly so now, for that these a**ailants, numerous as swarming ants and far more full of venom, would by no means leave him one moment for kinder duties. That drove him quite beside himself. Yet still, unconsidering, an ever-renewed surge of spearmen and axemen and swordsmen was thrown up against the wall, to be beaten down again; or quite upon the summit, to be toppled back headlong; or even over it, into the bloody lane behind where he must smite and smite, before driving them to earth or their fellows. But now there was a great, full, pa**ionate call in a voice of music; and a form such as had never been seen in such a fray swept by him, carrying the breath of victory. All bright with gold and scarlet she was from crown to skirt-rim, glittering keenly with gems, and swaying with bare, perfect arms the gleaming weapon about her head. The men shouted at her coming as they shouted for the coming of Arthur; and their rush upon the Saxons was such as could come only from the strength of a stimulant new in [Page 372] kind. She glanced at Caradoc once only as she went by; and even he, though not apt at any reading, knew what was to be done. "Who has your place?" demanded Arthur, as the panting giant stood before him. "Either a she-archangel," gasped Caradoc, "or the London Queen Aurelia." That pa**ed for his brightest utterance, his only epigram, outwrung by very stress of wind and weather. More he said, also, in due form, as ritual demanded, then sped back to his post. Later, when the wedded pair had left altar for palace, came word from him that all went well; that his angel of destruction had withdrawn a little, after the greatest beating back of men that ever was seen, without herself quite shedding the blood of any; and that matters would indeed have come to a sad pa** if Caradoc, whom men had called good for something, could not secure a little peace and quiet for his niece and her husband on their wedding-day. Then Arthur laughed openly at the great fighter's ideal of repose, with all that screaming and hooting of demons on every side. He had no mind to profit by the strong-hearted kindliness of his friend. But Guinevere clung to him, and besought him; not greatly in love, – though he thought so, – but chiefly in mere dread and tremor. Fear touched him, too, for her sake, left alone. Lingering, drawn [Page 373] and held, he pa**ed up with her where they could view the lower scene. There had been a lull; but now the tumult awoke again at its worst, and the setting sun struck across men and spears, swarming and counter-swarming. Red j**els were smitten out where they leaped together. On the house-tops, close to the last wall, women were bringing hastily every kind of missile, for use when that final need should come. All round the circle the battle stormed, but at the north it was still the fiercest; and here he came soon to know a new wave, and very great in the sea of onset, the royal banner of Cerdic tossing on before. He saw that wave sweep up with a great heaving rush that lifted banner and king and many chosen champions, through friend and enemy, clean over the earthwork. He saw Caradoc rush to the spot, and struggle valiantly, with more thronging to aid him, yet in spite of all, yielding little by little. He saw Aurelia and the few fighting-men whom she had held in reserve hasten into the midst. He tore himself rudely from Guinevere, and dashed recklessly down the stairway, that he might bear his part. Bitter self-blame was in his soul for his dallying, but this had all come about nearly in the twinkling of an eye. At the palace-door one greeted him to say that Caradoc was sorely wounded; that Aurelia bade him come forthwith, if he would ever be of use. [Page 374] Hardly a sound reached him from the eastern slope. Hurrying thither, he found that the a**ault had dwindled, being mainly withdrawn to aid Cerdic. He called back a part of his men to the inner wall, where they would count as more in number, being brought nearer together and re-enforced by missiles from above; then, with the remainder and all whom he could gather on the way, he sped around the curve to that ever-widening semicircle of combat about the inbulging ma** of Saxons, and the tossing of the White Horse standard. He pa**ed Caradoc, helmetless, and bound with bloody white over the brow, yet unsteadily endeavoring to get forward and join the battle. He heard the glad welcoming call of Aurelia. Then way was made for him, and he came face to face with Cerdic. A doughty man was the West Saxon king, as many a hot battle, whether lost or won, might tell – red of hair, red and pitted in the face, red in the gnarled long arms, left bare for greater freedom of stroke. No giant in size like Caradoc, – whom yet he had felled with one ringing blow a few minutes before, – but very strongly knitted and sinewy in lean ungainliness. Less than Arthur in mind, as far lower in soul, but formidable in every wise. Perverse, grim, cruel; a man to let nothing bar his way. He greeted his enemy with a taunt thanking him for the bride that had been won, and thereupon sprang [Page 375] and smote with his great double-handed axe more like some hairy wild man of the woods than a fighting king. But, if his weapon were the heavier and his crude strength the greater, he had not Arthur's alert and surpa**ing sk**; and fell as was his heart that moment, it yet lacked the other's white-hot fire. For a brief time there was a whirling medley of thrust and stroke, the other combatants tossing and jarring against them, destroying all sureness of aim. Then the point of Arthur's sword whipped into Cerdic's right arm below the shoulder; and, as the battle-axe dropped, a slash brought the Saxon to the ground. It was a swift, hard blow, though it could not have full swing in that press; and Cerdic lay on elbow, as, if dazed, with his helmet well dented in. The blood came streaming down into his eyes, and Arthur forbore. Then the cry of that deed went every way through the ma**; and many made desperate pressure to seize or save the fallen king, so that there was very savage fighting over him for a time. But Arthur called off whom he could, feeling well rid of Cerdic and his following, if only they were in mind to go. As to these, they cared for nothing but the saving of their leader. Thus ended that chiefest onslaught. The outer wall was manned again. Arthur drew near in the early twilight to where Caradoc was reclining, Aurelia sitting by him. The [Page 376] mighty man, enfeebled now, arose, and took his hand. "You see how it has fared with me," said Caradoc, "for fancying that the defence could endure, even an hour, without its soul and its captain." "Its captain bids you go and be properly tended," answered Arthur pleasantly, "and that our strong angel of London supervise the tending." Aurelia smiled and said, "All must obey our Emperor. But I am not greatly tired, nor hurt at all – they have taken such care of me. And there are so few of us now." "True," answered he sadly. The dead and the dying were all about them, often richly apparelled as they had come from the bridal, with not a moment to spare. Noble, even royal, blood had been poured out like water in that last rally for the very life of the town, which so nearly failed. "We must withdraw to our last wall, here as elsewhere," he added. "When all else is done, you may come to me again." Aurelia turned after Caradoc, but hesitated. "With the Empress?" she suggested. "It will not affront her," answered he. "She is too tender for such as this. I ought never to have brought it about her." Yet, as Aurelia went up the hill, she could but feel with pity how he thought not of turning to Guinevere his bride for any help in trouble.