William H. Babcock - Cian of the Chariots - Chapter XXXV: How Arthur Dealt with the Heathen lyrics

CHAPTER XXXV. HOW ARTHUR DEALT WITH THE HEATHEN. Ercwlf said That he valued not d**h. The columns of Ercwlf Will not dare a threatening. – TALIESSIN. CERDIC, the West Saxon, greatest of the invading kings, kept good watch over all that came to pa** in the British island from his city of Winchester, which he had held ever since he broke in on Ambrosius, and took the life of that Emperor at the great battle of Netley along the border of the Gwent. Yet it was not so long ago, nor had his losses been so light, that he should forget and a**ail again without good warrant. Therefore he had lain by, like an orderly neighbor, waiting for the wise time to come. When the great army of Ossa Cyllalaur gathered above the forest of Celidon, and London was almost in the clutch of Eschwine, Cerdic had indeed very nearly given a bloody hand to their work. But the crash came suddenly, and made him wary, as one who must bear a dangerous burden quite alone. Still, his men remained ever ready, and the broken bands [Page 339] of Kent and Ess** drifted to him. Their urgency for revenge upon Arthur was incessant and increasing. In later times there were men who deemed that he had also invitation from Lancelot in his urgency to keep Guinevere from the Emperor, but this need not be. Cerdic's many ships and his murmuring host, the wealth of Caerleon, and the still greater inflow to the wedding of Arthur, were surely argument enough. He put to sea, heading westward. Forthwith Guinevere and all rich things which had been gathered for the marriage were sent beyond sea-reach to Camelot. Her charm was so great, and so heightened by design, that Arthur, almost perforce, went also. But when she was once in safety, he broke suddenly away, and hurried back with all the men he could gather from his frontier fortresses, bearing more hatred than common in his heart for the interrupting Saxon. Meanwhile Cerdic had appeared before the Legion city, and found it waiting. In all Britain there was no olden town more splendidly and daringly alive, more endowed with treasures, both inherited and won, with men stern to defend them. Year by year the tide of commerce had been turning westward; and Caerleon, from the pre-eminence given by Arthur's court, received more than an equal share. Under every later drift of population, it held also very plentifully the blood of those Roman legionaries [Page 340] who once made it their stronghold. Lancelot was there in command, with many sons of the hills. No choice now but to fight the Saxon, – vengefully, too, as against himself, in the memory of envious hours that half longed for his coming! Cerdic's multitude made havoc of all the open land for leagues around, so that the people were driven headlong to places of refuge. Then the forayers gathered in, till every man was close about the walls, waiting the great a**ault of the morrow. At daybreak they rubbed astonished eyes; for there was a shimmering of armor everywhere on the eastward hills, the dragon standard of Arthur waving above all. This, at first, they a**ailed with great fervor and uproar. Afterward, beaten back, they yet withstood, in dense blocks of men, the swift charges made on them. Yet, whether in a**ault or defence, they fought always under the weight of surprise and his many victories. Little by little the corners were ground surely from the living wedges and squares, and the very heart of them was dinted out under hoof and mail. By midday the very last of the Saxons, however dogged and laggardly, was under sail from that unkindly shore. For a time they hovered about it with derision and menace, now altogether, now in fragmentary squadrons, doing notable damage here and there, so that the Emperor was kept vigilant in repelling them [Page 341] all up and down the great Severn estuary, – far from Camelot, far from Guinevere. Even when, at last, they were seemingly quite gone, he waited yet a while, uncertain, and had his reward in sure tidings of their pa**ing northward beyond Wales, along the shore. Then he feared, with reason, for Caer Ligion, the Chester of modern days, and made haste thither, arriving once more in time. Again the enemy were engaged under the city walls, and beaten off, stroke by stroke, but with heavier loss, having a long and anxious flight overland to their carven prows drawn ashore near the mouth of the Ribble. Now a fall of the tide left these more in sand than in water, and Arthur's foremost horsemen and runners came to them with the later ma** of fugitives mingling and fighting confusedly, so that many great war-boats were axe-broken about the keel by chance or design before they could be floated; and, both in the deep mire and on firm ground, there was great slaughter of men who could not get away. Cerdic, with a remnant, was very glad to make all speed homeward, with abiding memories of that chaotic nightmare battle on the strand of Trath Tribuit. In all this Llywarch did his part well, but Cian had no part at all. For, on the march, word had come to Arthur that Mona, though ill-defended, had been pa**ed without harm by the sea-robbers, and [Page 342] that Cian, with many priests of that isle and a goodly army, was lingering in the hills not far away, purposing to join them as many feared. Thereon the Prince of Argoed had spoken openly and fervently for his friend; but the zealots of the camp and envious men were very eager, and the Emperor's own heart was fevered. Therefore he wrote that even good service, disobediently done, is of ill augury, and breeds little trust; and that the murderous ill-worshippers ought not to be met in battle by hearts or emblems after their own kind. Therefore, he said, Cian and his people should abandon all that savored of heathendom, or keep aloof from the holy fight, as best might please them. Llywarch and many more shook their heads forebodingly over this; but Cian merely obeyed, remaining there, half-way toward the enemy whom he had meant to a**ail. But when all was over, and Arthur rested beside the Dee, he came again into the imperial presence, with a mien of amity and dignity, yet shadowed and sore at heart. As he stood before the Emperor, he heard the chanting of the monks in the great monastery of Bangor, hard by. Arthur eyed him with stern, awaiting composure. "What may be the desire of Prince Cian?" said he. Cian bowed lowly and gravely, and returned, "I am more than glad of your great victory, my Emperor, although not permitted to share in it." [Page 343] The hurt look and tone touched Arthur. Old battles, and the bearing of Cian therein, came up in memory. "I named my conditions," he said. "I could not become an apostate," replied the other sadly. Arthur flushed and frowned. "That is no fit word to your Emperor, nor of his bidding." "There are powers above emperors, and mandates from of old." "There is none greater than the Lord of Life, who died to save us. There is none greater than the holy mother of God. The apostasy is to turn from these, from Christian Britain, to that evil altar-worship. And how know I what treason this may bring upon you? Beware, Prince Cian. Let what has been show you that the soldiers of Christ need no aid to conquer any enemy. On whomso that stone falls, it shall grind him to powder." Cian listened; essayed to speak, with hasty and shaken voice; then checked himself, and said, with quiet repression, – "It grinds already. Until yesterday there was a shrine by the Ribble-mouth, a home of song and prayer, offshoot of Mona. Holy men dwelt there, leading pure lives, breathing the higher mysteries, doing well by their kind. But their worship was of no new God, nor to the liking of our Emperor. [Page 344] Now the priests are gone, the walls have tumbled stone over stone, a black cross marks the spot; and monks howl there, not in adoration, but in derision." Arthur looked him eye for eye as he spoke, intently, with deepening anger, though it was his wont to pardon frankness readily. He said nothing. Cian resumed: "Is this like the Emperor whom I have loved beyond men, and followed gladly, and served eagerly in every way? Is it not rather like the dealing of Eschwine with the holy places by the Stour, or as Ossa Cyllalaur would do, if he could, by the shrine of St. Alban?" Arthur half started up. "There are names which you must not name together, Prince Cian, if you value your life." "I do not value my life. I value truth. I value justice. Our Emperor is giving us neither." Arthur shook with pa**ion, but the a**ured fortitude and quiet exaltation of the other compelled him to think as well as feel. Also, these words had ever been the strongest appeal, outside of religion, which any man could make to him; and the part of the persecutor was both ill-suited and new. "Go, Cian," he said presently, forcing a smile. "Go, before worse comes of it. You are the bravest man in Britain. Yet we cannot both fight heathendom and endure it."