Thomas C. Middleton

“ For on the morrow the blood will flow like water, and it is well that ye know how to die. The victory will be as the gods decree, but end the battle as it may, see that the bards have a glorious song to sing of you, and let not the ghosts of your fathers be ashamed when they greet you in the after world.”
Silently the warriors filed away, and, as they laid themselves to rest, the bards sang of glorious deeds. Thus passed the night, and on the morrow Edas the Chief, pale and heavy eyed with weeping, yet loyal and true to the land he loved, led his men to meet the Roman steel. ”

“ As a rule, these plain, simply-told recitals of matters of fact, chronicle among other curios of literature, all kinds of even the most out-of-the-way learning anent the races of men; of plants and animals, of the various oftentimes most singular phenomena of air, earth, and water—subjects, all of them, of eagerest quest on the part of scientist, ethnologist, linguist, philosopher, naturalist. ”

“ Upholders of a tyrant, think ye that the powers of the other world will ever smile upon your cause? Not so. Your cause is accursed. Never shall the words of the writing come to pass. King Charles shall perish. So shall ye, his myrmidons. Lo! I see a field of battle. Rupert is there and the army of King Charles—a glorious array without the walls of York. But there cometh Cromwell, the man of iron, his horsemen charge once twice, thrice, and lo! the army of the King is scattered, and the earth is red with blood. I see faces, cold and dead, turned upwards towards the sky. ”

“ But Arthur stood calm and firm, and drawing Excalibur from its sheath, he stepped aside as the horseman charged, and smote with all his might. The blow cut clean through the lance close to the haft, and falling on the steed, brought it to the ground. Instantly the knight sprang up in terror.
“Now I know thee,” he cried. “Thou art Arthur Pendragon. No sword save the brand Excalibur could have struck so great a blow as that.”
“Thou speakest truly,” answered the king. “I am indeed Pendragon.” ”

“ Her teeth were like pearls, her hair gleamed like gold, her skin was the fairest, and her figure the most beautiful ever known in Longdendale. Altogether she was a maid to set the hearts of men aflame with love.
Now it should be stated at the outset that the maiden had been wooed by more than one noble suitor, but she had an eye to none save a brave young knight who came from Mottram. His name was Sir Mottram de Mossland, and he was lord of a castle—something similar in appearance to that of the Baron de Morland, but not quite so grand—which stood on a bold ridge near Mottram town. ”

“ But the lovliest of all women gathered there was the young lady of Staley, and the handsomest of men in that goodly company was the warrior knight, Sir Ro.
The feasting went on well into the night. In the minstrels’ gallery there were harpers who harped of war, and bards who sang of heroes’ deeds and victory. The music was wild and glorious; it lured men to war, it breathed the spirit of strife, it lured the love of maidens to the man who wielded axe and sword. ”

“ Reaching the gate, the squire thundered at it with his lance, and then drew back to wait. In answer to his knocking, the knight Sir Terrible appeared, ready mounted, armed with lance and sword.
“Villain and treacherous knight,” cried the squire. “How darest thou abduct innocent and defenceless maidens, whom all thy Order are bound to protect, keeping them as slaves within thy castle? I am come to make thee rue this foul insult to the order of our good King Arthur; for thy cruelties are a stain upon the honour of his knighthood, and a blotch upon the fair fame of his kingdom.” ”

“ As the gray of the morrow’s dawn fell upon the scene of battle, the pale light fell also upon a group of living beings, who stood upon the summit of the hill among the hosts of the dead.
Matilda, the Queen, was there—beaten and dismayed, since all hope was lost. The chief forester of Longdendale stood there also, and he, too, sighed, as one whose heart is broken—he had just been groping among the corpses, and had found what he sought. ”

“ Edas, son of Atli, was a finely built man, six feet and more in height, broad of chest and stout of limb, and standing thus, with no garment save a covering of wolf-skin about his loins, the beautiful proportions of his frame stood out with the clearness of a statue. His long hair hung loose about his shoulders, shining golden in the sunlight, and truly was it said of him that no hero of the old time was more glorious to look upon.
For a moment the Roman paused. Then at length he spake.
“Why battle with the legions? Why fight against fate? Why not live as free men? ”

“ Proud of their country and her great traditions, the local Britons determined to fight for their freedom to the last, preferring death in battle to slavery beneath the yoke of Rome.
“Tell thy proud chief that the sons of Britain are warriors and free men. Free men will they live, and free men die. Never will they submit their necks to the yoke of the Eagle. Rather will they perish on the spears of the legionaires.”
Thus spoke Edas the son of Atli, the brave hill warrior, who was chief of the Britons in Longdendale. ”

“ They marched across the great desert, suffering many privations, often being in peril of death by the wilderness, and at other times endangered by the craft and might of the foe. They fought many battles, winning great glory for the Christian arms, and putting numbers of the Saracens to death. In all the fighting Sir Ro of Staley played a great part. He was ever in the thickest of the battle, his helm bore the marks and dints of many blows, his breast was scarred with wounds, his sword dulled with hacking, his axe chipped with striking. ”

“ On a certain day in the olden time, a throng of people might have been seen wending their way through Mottram to the place of execution at Gallow’s Clough. It was a gloomy procession,—calculated to depress the beholder for the remainder of the day, and probably for many days to come. First marched a company of well-armed men—part of the retinue of the feudal lord—and in their midst was one bound, and wearing a halter dangling from his neck. Behind came a motley company of the country-folk—some weeping, some grimly silent, and some few laughing and jesting. ”

“ Curiosity, in their case, got the mastery of fear. For those were what the historians term “stirring times,”—days of war and tumult, of peril and death, of bloodshed and ruin, of suffering and horror; and well the children of Longdendale knew that the quarrel between King Charles and his Parliament had already made sad hearts and weeping eyes, widowed women and orphaned children, even in their own neighbourhood. ”

“ For days succeeding the arrival of the Roman herald there was a great massing of warriors, fleet-footed graceful men from the Cheshire plains, big wild men from the mountains which lie to the north and east of Longdendale. Day and night the forest altars and the stone circles of the Druids, which stood amid the heather on the summit of the Coombs, were constantly the scenes of sacrifices and other savage rites of Druid worship. ”

“ Dost thou love the gallows so? Thy husband died on this gibbet, and now thy son comes to the same end. Like father, like son. ’Tis in the breed. Why dost thou not weep and shriek for mercy as thou did’st when thy man was swung?”
Then the woman answered with a laugh:
“Because I am mad, thou fool, and cannot weep. My tears were dried up with weeping over my husband, and now I can weep no more. I must laugh, man, laugh when the gibbet creaks beneath the weight of a dead man. The days of weeping are past, the time of laughter and rejoicing is come.” ”

“ Not that the life itself was disagreeable, but the labour seemed all in vain, never leading to anything better than the humble respectability which was the highest mark of yeoman rank. Young Edmund Shaa had seen the trains of noble knights pass by; he had witnessed the huntings in the forests of Longdendale, when lords and ladies gay rode in grand attire, on richly-caparisoned steeds, and received every mark of respect from the country people who assembled to witness the sport. ”

“ Scarcely was the prayer ended when a great wind arose, the mists were rolled away like a curtain, the hill tops stood out in the clear night, the stars shone, and the moon-beams fell softly over the landscape, and a shepherd came along as though a heaven-sent guide to show him the path from the hills.
“Friend,” said the shepherd simply, as he beheld the Traveller, “Hast thou been long upon the moor? If so, thou shouldst indeed be thankful to God, for thou hast run a great risk of losing thy life upon this desolate wilderness of heather.” ”

“ But the Land of Ghosts welcomed the souls of Edas and his brave Britons.”
“The men sleep beneath the cairns amid the heather. But their spirits sail upon the wind. And they shall watch over Britain until new heroes shall arise. And the fame of the Eagles shall grow dim before their fame, and Britain shall conquer, and shall be mightier than Rome.” ”

“ With a wild yell the unwary Highland men broke from their post upon the summit, and charged down to slay. Then, swift as lightning, the warriors of Stephen turned. Their archers met the onrush of the pursuers with a staggering volley of shafts. The pikes and bills charged up the slope. The axes hacked the brawny Scots, and the broken ranks upon the hill, opening wider yet to receive their retreating comrades, let in the charging body of the foe. After that there was a mingled mass of slaying men about the summit. ”

“ ARTHUR, son of Uthyr, Pendragon of Great Britain, organised that high order of Christian chivalry, commonly known as the knighthood of the Round Table. The companions of this Order bound themselves by oath to oppose the progress of paganism, to be loyal to the British throne, to fight—not for self-glory, but for the redressing of human wrong, to protect the defenceless, to show mercy to the fallen, to honour womanhood, and never to turn their backs upon a foe in battle. ”

“ Some profane mortals state that when he found himself victorious, the doctor turned towards the Devil, and put his fingers to his nose as a sign of victory, while the Devil, sorely disgusted, rode off to hell with his tail between his legs, vowing that the mortals of Longdendale would have no place to go to when they died, for they were too bad for heaven, and too clever for hell. ”

“ Welcome the Eagles and live. But resist the legions, and—what then?”
“Then,” replied Edas, “we shall at least preserve our honour; we shall at least remain free as our fathers were; we shall have the chance to emulate the deeds, and die deaths as glorious as those of the heroes of whom the bards sing, and we shall not live to see our wives and daughters dishonoured by the ruthless soldiers of Rome.”
He looked the Roman full in the face, and the emissary of Agricola flushed with anger at the implication contained in the chief’s concluding words. ”

“ The farmer’s wife, good mistress Cooke, was denouncing her husband’s folly in having wounded the soldier, and thus brought the man nigh to death, and the yeoman, himself, in grave danger of arrest, court martial, and the gallows.
“’Tis thy hot temper, of which I have so often spoken, and which thou never canst control, that has led thee into this mess—and a pretty mess it is, upon my conscience,” said the dame, “What harm had the poor fellow done to thee or thine, that thou must prod him with the fork, as thou dost a truss of hay, and tumble him headlong out of the saddle. ”