Complete Works of William Morris, page 247
“My friend,” quoth Hardcastle, “by the title that lieth yonder I have gotten thy wealth, and every jot of it might I keep if I would. But see how kind I am to thee and thine. For have I not told you that ye shall live in this house, and eat the sweet and drink the strong and lie warm a-nights, so long as ye do my will?”
“Yea,” said the goodman, “but we must needs toil as thralls.” “Great fool,” said Hardcastle, “what matters that to thee? It is like thou shalt work no harder than erst, or no harder than may be enough to keep me as thy guest. Nay, goodman, wilt thou turn me from thy door and deny me guesting? What sayest thou to that, Fiddlebow, my sharp dear?” said he, handling his sword. Now the goodman crept away, and Surly John says that he wept.
But Osberne came forward as smiling and debonaire as erst, and he said: “Fair sir, one thing I crave of thee to tell me, to wit, is there no other way out of this thraldom, for well thou wottest that no man would be a thrall might he help it?” “Well, my lad,” quoth the warrior smiling, for now after his talk with the goodman he was in better humour, “when thou growest older thou wilt find that saw of thine belied manywise, and that many there be who are not loth to be thralls. But as to what way there may be out of this thraldom, I will tell thee the way, as I was about to do with the goodman; though whereas he is but little-hearted, and there is none else fight-worthy in the house, save it were this lubber in front — Well thou, why art thou skellying, man, as if thou wouldst cast the eyes out of thine head on either side?” Quoth Stephen: “I was grown so afraid of thee, fair sir, that I wotted not where to look, so I thought my eyes would do me least harm if they looked down along my nose.” Quoth Hardcastle: “I begin to see how it will go with thee, great lout, that in the first days of my mastership thine hide will pay for thy folly.” Stephen squinted none the less, but his whittle was yet in his belt.
Now Hardcastle went on speaking to Osberne and said: “Well now, I will tell thee the way out of this thraldom, as thou wilt call it; and the more to thee, bairn, because thou wilt become my man and wilt be bold and deft, I doubt not; therefore thou shouldst learn early the fashions of great and bold men. Hearken! Ever when I offer to some man a lot that seemeth hard unto him, then I bid him, if it likes him not, to pitch me the hazelled field hard by his house, and we to go thereinto and see what point and edge may say to it; and if he slay me or hurt me so much I must be borne off the field within the four corners, then is he quit, and hath gained mickle glory of my body. Moreover if he may not fight himself, yet will I meet any champion that he may choose to do battle with me. Now this is a good and noble custom of the bold, and hath been seemed so from long time agone. And indeed I deem pity of it that here today the goodman may not fight nor hath found any champion to fight for him. But three days’ frist will I give him to find such a champion — Thou wretch,” said he to Stephen, “why wilt thou still skelly at me?”
“Because the champion is found,” said Stephen in a snuffling voice.
Hardcastle snorted and his lip-beard bristled, but forth stood Osberne, and he still smiling; and he said: “Thou warrior, three things I offer thee to choose from, and the first is that thou depart hence, thou and thy man; because thou hast not dealt with us as a guest should, but hast smitten me and threatened all of us, and brazened out thy wrong-doing. This is the best way out of thy folly. What sayest thou to it?” But such fury was in the ruffler’s heart now, that he had no words for it, but rolled about in the high-seat snorting and blowing. Said Osberne: “I see thou wilt not take this way and that is the worse for thee. Now the next is that we hazel a field and fight therein. Wilt thou have this?” The champion roared out: “Yea, that will I! But in such wise that thou take sword and shield and I a bunch of birch twigs; and if I catch thee not and unbreech thee and whip thee as a grammar-master his scholar, then will I lay down sword and shield forever.”
Said Osberne coldly: “Thou seest not that I am girt with a sword, and I tell thee it is a good one. Or wilt thou take Surly John’s knife this morning and do as I did with it last night? And I did it for a warning to thee, but belike thou wert drunk and noted it not.”
Hardcastle’s face fell somewhat, for now he did remember the feat of the knife. But Osberne spake again: “I ask thee, warrior, wilt thou enter the field that I shall hazel for thee?” Quoth the ruffler, but in a lower voice: “I cannot fight with a boy; whether I slay him or am slain I am shamed.”
Spake Osberne: “Then depart from the house with as little shame as a ruffler and a churl may have. But if thou wilt neither of these things, then it will befal that I shall draw my blade and fall on thee to slay thee, and make the most of it that here stands by me my man Stephen, a true and fearless carle, with his whittle bare in his hand. And this I may well do, whereas, by thine own telling, thou art not in our house but in thine own.”
Hardcastle lifted up his head, for he had hung it down a while, and said in a hoarse voice: “Hazel the field for me then, and I will go therein with thee and slay thee.” “That may well be,” said Osberne, “ — yet it may not be.” Then he bade Stephen to go hazel the field in the flat meadows toward the river: and therewith he bethought him of his friend on the further side of the water, and how it might well be that he should never see her again, but lie slain on the meadow of Wethermel; and he wondered if tidings of the battle would go across the water and come unto her. But amidst his musings the harsh voice of Hardcastle reached his ears: he turned around with a start and heard how the ruffler said to him: “Let me see the sword, lad, wherewith thou wilt fight me.” Osberne took the sheathed blade from his girdle and handed it to Hardcastle without a word, and the warrior fell at once to handling the peace-strings, but Osberne cried out: “Nay, warrior, meddle not with the peace-strings, for who knoweth what scathe may come of the baring of the blade within doors?” “Well, well,” said Hardcastle, “but the blade must be out presently, and what harm if it be now?” Yet he took his hand from the weapon, and laid it on the board before him.
Osberne looked about him and saw that they two were alone in the hall now, for the others had gone down to look on the hazelling. So he spake quietly and said: “Warrior, is it not so, that thou hast in thine heart some foreboding of what shall befal?” Hardcastle answered nought, and Osberne went on: “I see that so it is, and meseems it were better for thee if this battle were unfought. Lo now, shall we not make peace in such wise that thou abide here this day in all honour holden, and in honour depart tomorrow morn, led out with such good gifts as shall please thee? Thus shalt thou have no shame, and everything untoward betwixt us shall be forgotten.” Hardcastle shook his head and said: “Nay, lad, nay, the tale would get about, and shame would presently be on the wing towards me. We must stand within the hazel-garth against each other.” Then he spake again, and a somewhat grim smile was on his face: “Awhile agone thou didst threaten to slay me with the help of yonder squinting loon, but now thou standest unarmed before me and I have thy sword under my hand. Hast thou no fear of what I may do to thee, since so it is that forebodings weigh on mine heart?”
“Nay, I am not afraid,” said Osberne; “thou mayst be a bad man, yet not so bad as that.”
“Sooth it is,” said Hardcastle; “but I say again, thou art a valiant lad. Lo now, take thy sword again; but tell me, what armour of defence hast thou for this battle?”
“Nought save my shield,” said Osberne; “there is a rusty steel hood stands yonder on the wall, but no byrny have we in the house.”
Said Hardcastle: “Well, I may do so much as this for thee, I will leave all my defences here and go down in the hazels with nought but my sword in my fist, and thou shalt have thy shield; but I warn thee that Fiddlebow is a good blade.”
Said Osberne, and smiled: “Well I wot that if thou get in but one downright stroke on me, little shall my shield avail me against Fiddlebow. Yet I take thine offer and thank thee for it. But this forthinketh me, that if thou live out this day thou wilt still betake thee to the same insolency and greediness and wrong-doing as thou hast shown yesterday and this morning.”
Hardcastle laughed roughly and said: “Well, lad, I deem thou art right; wherefore slay me hardily if thou mayst, and rid the world of me. Yet hearken, of all my deeds I have no shame at all: though folk say some of them were ugly — let it be.”
Therewith came Stephen into the hall, and he did them to wit that the hazels were pitched, and now he squinted no more.
Chapter XVII. The Slaying of Hardcastle
So they three went down together into the meadow, and there stood the others by the hazel-garth: the goodman cowering and abject, Surly John pale and anxious, and the two women clinging together in sore sorrow, the grandam weeping sorely. But as they passed close by these last, Stephen touched the grandam and said to her: “Sawest thou ever King David the little?” “Nay,” she said sobbing. “Look thou into the hazel-garth presently then,” said he, “and thou shalt see him with eye.”
So now they two stood in the hazelled field; it was two hours before noon, the sky was overcast with a promise of the first snow of the winter, but as yet none had fallen, and the field was dry and hard. Now Hardcastle has Fiddlebow bare in his fist, but Osberne takes Boardcleaver from his girdle and unwinds the peace-strings; then he stands still for a moment and looks toward his foeman, who cries out at him: “Haste thee, lad, I were fain done with it.” Then Osberne draws forth the blade, and it made a gleam of white in the grey day, and as the folk say who stood thereby, as Boardcleaver came forth bare there came a great humming sound all about. Then Osberne gets his shield on his arm, and cries out: “Now thou warrior!” and straightway Hardcastle comes leaping toward him, and Osberne abode him as he came on with uplifted sword, leapt lightly to one side, and thrust forth Boardcleaver and touched his side, so that all could see the blade had drunk a little blood. Fiercely and fast turned Hardcastle about on the lad, but therewith was he within the ruffler’s stroke, and Boardcleaver’s point was steady before Osberne’s breast, and met Hardcastle’s side and made a great wound with the point, and the warrior staggered back, and his sword-point was lowered. Then cried out Osberne: “What! Thou wouldst unbreech me, wouldst thou? But now art thou unbreeched.” For therewith Boardcleaver swept round backhanded and came back as swift as lightning, and the edge clave all the right flank and buttock of him, so that the blood ran freely; and then as Hardcastle, still staggering, hove up his sword wildly, Osberne put the slant stroke aside with his shield and thrust forth Boardcleaver right at his breast, and the point went in, and the whole blade, as there were nought but dough before it, and Hardcastle, nigh rent in two, fell aback off the sword.
Osberne stood still a while looking on him, but Stephen ran up and knelt beside him, and felt his wrist and laid his hand on the breast, and then turned and looked up at Osberne, who knelt down beside him also and wiped the blood off Boardcleaver with a lap of the dead man’s coat. Then he stood up and thrust the blade back into the sheath, and wound the peace-strings about it all. Then came the word into his mouth, and he sang:
Came sword and shield
To the hazelled field
Where the fey man fell
At Wethermel:
The grey blade grew glad
In the hands of a lad,
And the tall man and stark
Leapt into the dark.
For the cleaver of war-boards came forth from his door
And guided the hand of the lacking in lore.
But now is the blade
In the dark sheath laid,
And the peace-strings lull
His heart o’erfull.
Up dale and down
The hall-roofs brown
Hang over the peace
Of the year’s increase.
No fear rendeth midnight and dieth the day
With no foe save the winter that weareth away.
Then he cried out: “Draw nigh, goodman and grandsire, and take again the house and lands of Wethermel, as ye had them aforetime before yesterday was a day.” So the goodman came to him and kissed him and thanked him kind and humbly, and the women came and embraced him and hung about him. As for Surly John, he had slunk away so soon as he saw the fall of his master, and now when they looked around for him, they saw him but as a fleck going swiftly down the Dale. Thereat they all laughed together, and the laughter eased their hearts, so that they felt free and happy.
“Now,” said Stephen, “what shall we do with this carcass, that was so fierce and fell this morning?” Said Osberne: “We shall lay him in earth here in his raiment as he fell, since he died in manly wise, though belike he has lived as a beast. But his sword I will give to thee in reward for thy trusty following both now and at other times.”
So Stephen fetched mattock and pick, and dug a grave for that champion amidwards of the hazel-garth, and there they laid him, and heaped up mould and stones over his grave; and to this day it is called Hardcastle’s Howe there, or for short, and that the oftenest, Hardcastle.
So they went all of them up to the house, and were merry and joyful.
Chapter XVIII. Elfhild Hears of the Slaying
But two days after this was the tryst-day for Osberne to see his over-water friend, and he went soberly enough, and came to the water-side and found her over against him; and she asked of him tidings. “Tidings enough,” said he, “for now have I done a deed beyond my years, a deed unmeet for a child; to wit, I have slain a man.”
“O,” she said, “and didst thou sleep after the deed?” Said Osberne: “Yea, and dreamed never a deal. But I must tell thee I was in my right.” Said Elfhild: “What did he to thee that thou must slay him?” Osberne said: “He came swaggering into our house and would take all to him, and put all of us to the road or hold us in thraldom.” She said “But tell me, how didst thou slay him? Was he drunk or asleep?” “Nay,” said he, “I was champion for my grandsire, and the robber had a sword in his fist, and I another and we fought, and I overcame him.” Said the maiden: “But was he mannikin or a dastard, or unskilled in weapons?” Spake Osberne, reddening: “He was a stark carle, a bold man, and was said to be of all prowess.”
She said nothing a while, but stood pale and downcast. And he said: “What is this, playmate? I looked to have much praise from thee for my deed. Dost thou know that this man was as the pest to all the country-side, and that I have freed men of peace from a curse?” “Be not wrath with me, Osberne,” she said, “indeed I am somewhat downcast; for I see that now thou wilt be no playmate for me, but wilt be a man before thy time, and wilt be looking towards such things as men desire; and that tall maidens come to womanhood will be for thee, not quaint rags of children such as I be.”
“Now, Elfhild,” said he, “why wilt thou run to meet trouble half way? Am I worser to thee than I was last time?” “Nay,” she said, “and indeed I deem thee glorious, and it is kind and kind of thee to come to me ever, and not to miss one of our trysts.”
“Now thou art dear,” said Osberne; “and wilt thou do something for my disport? wilt thou pipe thy sheep to thee?”
“Nay,” said she, “I will not; I will not skip like an antic, and show thee my poor little spindle legs. If I were a woman grown I should scarce show so much as the ankle of my foot. Besides, thou laughest at my hopping and jumping amongst these foolish woolly beasts, and I would not have thee laughing at me.”
“Elfhild my dear,” said he, “thou art wrong. When I have laughed, it was never in mockery of thee, but for pleasure of thy pretty ways and the daintiness of thy dancing, which is like to the linden leaves on a fresh summer morning.”
“But how am I to know that?” she said. “Well, at any rate, ask me not to dance today. But I will sit down and tell thee a very sweet tale of old times, which thou hast never erst heard. It is about the sea and ships, and of a sea-wife coming into the dwellings of men.” Quoth Osberne, “I were fain to look on the sea and to sail it.” “Yea,” said Elfhild, “but thou wilt take me with thee, wilt thou not?” “O yea,” said Osberne. And they both forgat the Sundering Flood, and how they should never meet, as they sat each side of the fearful water, and the tale and sweet speech sped to and fro betwixt them. So a fair ending had that day of tryst.
Chapter XIX. The Winter Passes and Elfhild Tells of the Death of Her Kinswoman
Now Osberne and Stephen both give rede to the goodman, and bid him live somewhat less niggardly, since not only had they good store of victual and clothes and the like, which had been hoarded a long time, but also the gifts of Waywearer had stood them in good stead, and furthermore, the goodman was much bettered by the spoil of Hardcastle. For he had left much wealth behind him, and chiefly in silver and gold; and all that he had left, save his weapons, had Osberne given to his grandsire. So the goodman heeded their words and let himself be talked over, and while winter was yet young and before there was any snow to hinder, he rode with Osberne down the Dale, and looked into many of the steads, and amongst others, were dwelt the damsel who had been paired with Osberne on the day of the mid-winter Cloven Mote. And he thought her fair and sweet, and she received him joyfully and kissed him; but he was scarce so ready for that as he was aforetime, for he deemed she kissed him as a child and not a man.
