At the further end of the ground enclosed for the sports, a slightly raised platform had been prepared for the king and his household. The royal party ascended it soon after the travellers arrived, but the distance was too great to permit of faces being distinguished. Bladud could easily perceive, however, the tall form of his father, and the graceful figure of his mother, as they took their places, closely followed by the chief warriors. These, however, did not bring their women—that privilege being reserved for the household of the king only. Close behind the king and queen walked the young Princess Hafrydda. She was not only graceful, but beautiful, being very fair like her mother, with light-blue eyes like those of her brother Bladud; she had peach-bloom cheeks, and a brow of snow, save where her cap failed to protect it from the sun.
After the princess, and shrinking behind her as if to escape the gaze of the courtiers, or rather warriors, who crowded the platform, came a girl of about nineteen summers, the companion of Hafrydda. Branwen was a complete contrast to her friend in complexion. She was the daughter of a famous northern chief, and was quite as beautiful as the princess, while her jet-black eyes and curly brown hair gave more of force and character to features which were delicately moulded.
There was reason for poor Branwen’s desire to escape observation, for the proud Gunrig was paying her attentions which were far too pointed and familiar in one who was about to marry the king’s daughter. Indeed, it was whispered that he had changed his mind since he had seen Branwen, and would have even resigned the princess in her favour, if he had dared to offer such an affront to the king.
Hudibras himself was the last to ascend the platform. He was a fine-looking, portly man, with a great shock of black hair, a long beard, and limbs so well proportioned that he did not seem taller than other men until he stood beside them. He was a worthy sire of such a son as Bladud, though three inches shorter.
There was a sort of barbaric splendour in the costumes of both men and women, combined with some degree of graceful simplicity. The king was clothed in a softly-dressed deer-skin jacket, over which he wore a wolf-skin with the hair outside. A tunic of purple cotton, brought by Phoenician ships from the far East, covered him as far down as the knees, which were bare, while his lower limbs were swathed in strips of scarlet cloth. Leather sandals, resembling those made by Bladud while in Gaul, protected his feet. No crown or other token of royalty rested on his brow, but over his dark and grizzled locks he wore a species of leather skull-cap which, being exceeding tough, served the purpose of a helmet. On his breast was a profusion of ornaments in the form of beads and bosses of gold and tin, the former of which had been brought from the East, the latter from the mines of his native land. A bronze sword with an ivory sheath, inlaid with gold, hung at his left side, and a knife of the same material at his right. Altogether King Hudibras, being broad and strong in proportion to his height, presented a very regal appearance indeed, and bore himself with becoming dignity. He had married the daughter of a Norse Jarl; and his two children, Bladud and Hafrydda, had taken after their gentle mother in complexion and disposition, though they were not altogether destitute of a sub-current of their father’s passionate nature.
The nobles, or rather warriors—for ability to fight constituted nobility in those days—were clothed in garments which, with sundry modifications, resembled those of the king. As for the women of the court, their costumes were what may be styled flowing, and therefore graceful, though difficult to describe. Like their lords, they were profusely ornamented with precious metals and bands and loops of coloured cloth. Hafrydda and her companion Branwen allowed their hair to fall, after the manner of the times, in unrestrained freedom over their shoulders—that of the former resembling a cataract of rippling gold, while that of the latter was a wavy mass of auburn. Both girls wore wild flowers among their tresses. Of course the queen had rolled up her slightly grey hair in the simple knot at the back of the head, which is more becoming to age, and she wore no ornament of any kind on her head.
Public games are pretty much the same in all lands, and have probably been similar in all times. We shall not weary the reader by describing minutely all that went on. There was racing, of course, and jumping both with and without a run, as well as over a willow-wand held high. There was also throwing the heavy stone, but the method pursued in this feat was not in accordance with modern practice, inasmuch as the competitor turned his back to the direction in which the stone was to be thrown, heeled instead of toed the line, seized the stone with both hands and hurled it backwards over his head.
As the games proceeded it was evident that the concourse became much excited and deeply interested in the efforts of the various competitors—the king and his court not less so than the people.
After the conclusion of one of the races, Captain Arkal left the front row, and pushing his way towards Bladud, whispered—
“It seems to me that you could easily beat the winner of that race, smart though he be. What say you? Will you try?”
“I fear being discovered by my father if I go so prominently before him, and I wish to announce myself in private.”
“Pooh! discovery is impossible! Have you not told me that you were a smooth-chinned boy, and not grown to near your present height when you left home? How can they ever recognise one who returns a sunburnt giant, with a beard that covers half his face?”
“Perhaps you are right,” returned the prince, looking as if uncertain how to act; but the advice of little Maikar corresponding with that of the captain decided him.
In those primitive times the rules and ceremonies connected with games were few and simple. “Entries” were not arranged beforehand; men came and went, and competed or refrained, as they pleased, though, of course, there were a few well-known greyhound-like men and athletes who competed more or less in all games of the various districts around, and whose superlative powers prevented other ambitious men from becoming too numerous. These were, we may say, the “professionals” of the time.
No special costumes were worn. Each man, as he stepped to the front, divested himself of wolf-skin, deer-skin, boar-skin, or cat-skin mantle, and, perchance, also of his upper coat, and stood forth in attire sufficiently light and simple to leave his limbs unhampered.
A long race—ten times round the course—was about to come off, and the men were being placed by the judges, when Bladud pushed through the crowd and made his way to the starting-point. There was a murmur of admiration as his tall and graceful figure was seen to join the group of competitors in front of the royal stand. He gave the Greek letter Omicron as his name, and no further questions were asked him. Divesting himself of the rug or mantle, which he wore thrown over one shoulder after the manner of a plaid, he stood forth in the thin loose tunic which formed his only garment, and tightened his belt as he toed the line.
It was with a feeling of satisfaction that he observed several of the king’s warriors among the runners, and one of these was Gunrig. Being an agile as well as a stout man, he did not consider it beneath his dignity to join in the sports.
The king himself gave the signal to start. He descended from his stand for the purpose, and Bladud was greatly pleased to find that though he looked at him he evidently failed to recognise him.
At the signal, about twenty powerful fellows—mostly young, though some were in the prime of life—started out at full speed for a short distance, as if to test each other; then they began to slow, so as not to break their wind by over-exertion at the beginning. Bladud felt at once that he was more than a match for the best of them, unless any one should turn out to have been concealing his powers. He therefore placed himself alongside of Gunrig, and kept at his elbow about half a foot behind him the first two rounds of the course.
At first Gunrig took no notice of this, but when he perceived that the tall stranger continued to keep the same position, he held back a little, intending to reverse the position for a time. But Bladud also held back and frustrated his intention. Exasperated by this, Gunrig put on what we in these times call a “spurt,” and went ahead at a pace which, in a few seconds, left most of the runners a good way behind. This was received by the spectators with a cheer, in which surprise was fully as prominent as satisfaction, for although they knew that the chief was celebrated for his speed of foot, few of them had actually seen him run before that day, and it at once became evident that if his endurance was equal to his speed, it would go hard with his competitors.
Bladud was left behind a few yards, but, without making a spurt, he lengthened his stride a little, and in a moment or two had resumed his former position at his rival’s elbow.
A wild cheer of delight ensued, for now it was recognised that in all probability the race would lie between these two. As, however, all this occurred in the third round of the course, and all the other runners seemed to be doing their work with steady resolution, there was still the possibility of one or more of them proving themselves, by endurance perhaps, more than a match for the swift-footed. The excitement, therefore, became intense, and, as round after round of the course was completed the relative position of the various men changed considerably.
At the seventh round some, who had been husbanding their strength, let out, and, passing others with great ease, came close upon the heels of Gunrig and Bladud. This was, of course, a signal for enthusiastic cheering. Others of the runners, feeling that their chance of taking a respectable place was hopeless, dropped out of the race altogether and were cheered vociferously as they retired.
At last, in the eighth round, it became practically, as had been anticipated, a race between the leading two, for they were far ahead of all the others by that time, but occupied exactly the same relative position as before. Gunrig became so exasperated at this, that on commencing the ninth round, he made a sudden effort which carried him five or six yards ahead of his rival.
The spectators could not avoid cheering him at this, but the cheer was feeble.
“The tall man is losing wind,” cried one in a disappointed tone.
“I feared his legs were too long,” observed another. Most of the people, however, looked on in anxious silence.
“I did not think he would give in so easily,” murmured little Maikar regretfully.
“He has not given in yet,” returned the captain, with a satisfied nod. “See—he pulls up!”
This was true. To the unbounded surprise of the spectators, Bladud had actually stopped a moment to tighten his belt at the beginning of the tenth round. Then, to their still greater amazement, he put on what we may call an Olympic spurt, so that he overtook his rival in less than a quarter of a minute; passed him easily, ran over the rest of the course at a rate which had not been equalled since Old Albion was created, and passed the winning-post full five hundred yards in advance of Gunrig, amid yells of delight and roars of laughter, which continued for some time—bursting forth again and again as the novelty and surprise of the thing became more and more forced home to the spectators’ minds.
“You have met more than your match to-day, Gunrig,” remarked the king, with a laugh, as the defeated man strode angrily up to the platform.
“I have met foul play,” replied the chief angrily. “He pretended that he could not run, else would I have put on more force. But it matters not. I will have another opportunity of trying him. Meanwhile, there is yet the heavy stone to throw. How now, wench?” he added, turning fiercely on Branwen, who had nearly hidden her face in her shawl, “do you try to hide that you are laughing at me?”
Poor Branwen was in anything but a laughing mood. She was too much afraid of the fiery chief for that, and had merely covered her face, as a modern beauty might drop her veil, to avoid his gaze.
The fair-haired Hafrydda, however, was not so timid, her smile was evidently one of amusement at his defeat, which angered him all the more.
“Gunrig,” said the king, drawing himself up, and speaking impressively, “remember that you are my guest, and that it ill becomes you to insult my women before my face.”
“Pardon me,” replied the chief, with an effort to recover himself. “You must remember that I am not accustomed to defeat.”
“True,” returned the king blandly, “so now you had better take to the heavy stone and come off the victor.”
Gunrig at once went down into the arena and sent a challenge to Bladud.
The latter had returned to his place among the spectators, but his height rendered him easy to find. He accepted the challenge at once, and, as no other competitor for the heavy stone offered, the two had it all to themselves. This was no matter of wonder, for the heaviest stone among those laid out for trial was of a weight that many of the young men or warriors could barely lift, while the stoutest of them could not have thrown it more than a few feet.
Boiling over as he was with indignation, Gunrig felt as if he was endued with more than usual strength. He lifted the stone with ease, faced the platform, heeled the line, and hurled the stone violently over his head, so that it fell with a heavy thud far behind him. Then Bladud took it up.
“Oh! what a stout man he is!” whispered Branwen to Hafrydda, “and what a handsome face!”
“That is true; and I hope he will win,” replied the princess.
“Hush! child, the king will be displeased if he hears you,” said her mother earnestly. “What ever you think, keep silence.”
The queen spoke with such unwonted energy that Hafrydda was surprised, but her thoughts were instantly diverted to Bladud, who made a magnificent cast and sent the stone a yard further than his opponent. But Gunrig seized it again and hurled it a foot beyond that.
“Well done,” said the king. “Go on. It is the best in three heaves that wins.”
Bladud grasped the stone and hurled it back over his head with all his force. Up and up it went as if it had resolved to become an aerolite and visit the moon! Then down it came with a mighty thud ten yards beyond Gunrig’s mark.
Once more the air rang with the enthusiastic plaudits of the multitude, while the king ordered the victor to approach the stand.
Bladud did so with some trepidation, for now he knew that he would have to speak, and feared that though his appearance had not betrayed him, his voice would probably do so.
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |