Robert Michael Ballantyne
The Hot Swamp
For a time Bladud felt some anxiety as to the result of the risk he had run, but did not mention his adventure to any one. Gradually the fear wore off, and at length that feeling of invulnerability which is so strong in youth, induced him to dismiss the subject from his thoughts altogether. He had quite forgotten it until the doctor’s statement fell upon him with the stunning violence of a thunder-clap.
It is usually when deep sorrows and great difficulties are sent to them, that men and women find out the quality of their natures. Despair, followed by listless apathy, might well have seized on one who, a few days before, possessed all the advantages of great physical strength and manly beauty, with what appeared to be sound health and a bright life before him. But, instead of giving way, he silently braced himself for a lifelong conflict. He did not turn, in his extremity, to the gods of his fathers—whatever these might be—for he did not believe in them, but he did believe in one good supreme Being. To Him he raised his heart, offered an unspoken prayer, and felt comforted as well as strengthened in the act.
Then, being a man of prompt action, he thoughtfully but quickly formed his plans, having previously made fast his door—for well he knew that although his strong-minded father might keep him at arm’s-length, his loving mother and sister would not only come to talk with him, but would, despite all risks, insist on embracing him.
That he was not far wrong was proved the same evening, for when the king revealed the terrible news to his wife and daughter, they went straight to Bladud’s door and knocked for admission.
“Who goes there?” demanded the prince.
“Your mother. Let me in, Bladud.”
“I may not do so just now, dear mother. Tomorrow you shall know all. Rest content. I feel better.”
In the dead of night Bladud went out softly and sought the hut where Captain Arkal and Maikar slept. He found them conversing in great sorrow about the terrible calamity that had overtaken their friend when he entered. They started up in surprise to receive him.
“Keep off,” he said, shrinking back. “Touch me not! I know not whether the disease may not be catching even at its present stage. Sit down. I will stand here and tell you what I want you to tell my mother in the morning.”
The two men silently obeyed, and the prince continued.
“I am on the point of leaving home—it may be for ever. The Disposer of all things knows that. The disease, as you know, is thought to be incurable. If so, I shall die where no one shall find me. If health returns I shall come back. It will be of no use to search for me; but I think that will not be attempted. Indeed, I know that my father would be compelled to banish me if I wished to remain at home. It is partly to spare him the pain of doing so that I banish myself of my own accord; and partly to avoid leaving infection behind me that I go without farewell. Let my dear mother and sister understand this clearly—and—comfort them if you can.”
“But where will you go to and what will you do?” asked the captain anxiously.
“That I do not yet know. The forests are wide. There is plenty of room for man and beast. This only will I reveal to you. To-night I shall call at the hut of Beniah the Hebrew. He is a wise man and will advise me. If I send news of myself it shall be through him. But tell not this to any one. It would only bring trouble on the old man. Farewell, my comrades. I will remember you as brothers—always. May the All-powerful One watch over us.”
Unable to restrain himself, little Maikar sprang up with the obvious intention of rushing at his friend and seizing his hand, but the prince stepped back, shut the door against him, and, in another moment, was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
An Eavesdropper in the Cave
An hour later Beniah the Hebrew, who had been obliged to postpone for a time his journey to the North, was startled by hearing footsteps approaching his hut in the dell. It was so unusual an event at that hour of the night, that he arose quickly and grasped the six-foot staff which was his only weapon.
At a much earlier hour Branwen had retired to rest in the inner cave, and was buried in that profound sleep which proverbially accompanies innocence and youth. The noise in the outer cave partially aroused her, but, turning on her other side with a profound sigh, she prepared for a little more of the perquisites of innocence and youth. Presently she was startled into a condition of absolute wide-awakeness by the sound of a well-known voice, but it suddenly changed into that of the Hebrew.
“I’ve dreamt it, I suppose,” she muttered, in a tone of regret; nevertheless, she listened.
“Come in,” said Beniah, evidently to some one outside of his door.
“I may not enter—I am a leper,” answered the first voice; and Branwen sat up, with her great beautiful eyes opened to the utmost, and listening intently, though she could not make out clearly what was said.
“It matters not; I have no fear. Come in. What! Prince Bladud!” exclaimed Beniah in astonishment as our hero entered.
“Even so. But how is it that you know me?”
“I saw you once, and, once seen, you are not easily forgotten. But what mean ye about being a leper?”
“Keep at a safe distance, and I will tell you.”
Hereupon the prince began to give the old man an account of his illness; the opinion expressed by the doctor as to its nature; and the determination he had formed of forsaking home, and retiring to the solitude of some unfrequented part of the forest for the remainder of his life.
It would have been a sight worth looking at—had there been light to see it—the vision of Branwen, as she stood in the passage in partial deshabille, with her eyes wide, her lips parted, her heart beating, and a wealth of auburn hair curling down her back, listening, as it were, with every power of her soul and body. But she could not hear distinctly. Only a disconnected word reached her now and then. In a state of desperate curiosity she returned to her cave.
A few minutes later a noise was heard by the two men in the outer cave; and a little old woman in a grey shawl was seen to thrust a plank over the chasm and totter across towards them.
Poor Beniah was horrified. He did not know what to do or say. Happily he was one of those men whose feelings are never betrayed by their faces.
The old woman hobbled forward and sat down on a stool close to them. Looking up in their faces, she smiled and nodded.
In doing so she revealed the fact that, besides having contorted her face into an unrecognisable shape, she had soiled it in several places with streaks of charcoal and earth.
“Who is this?” asked Bladud in surprise. Before the old man could reply, the old woman put her hand to her ear, and, looking up in the prince’s face, shouted, in tones that were so unlike to her own natural voice that Beniah could scarce believe his ears—
“What say you, young man? Speak out; I’m very deaf.”
With a benignant smile Bladud said that he had merely asked who she was.
“Haven’t you got eyes, young man? Don’t you see that I’m a little old woman?”
“I see that,” returned the prince, with a good-humoured laugh; “and I fear you’re a deaf old woman, too.”
“Eh?” she said, advancing her head, with her hand up at the ear.
“You seem indeed to be extremely deaf,” shouted the prince.
“What does he say?” demanded the old woman, turning to the Hebrew.
By this time Beniah had recovered his self-possession. Perceiving that the maiden was bent on carrying out her rôle, and that he might as well help her, he put his mouth close to her ear, and shouted in a voice that bid fair to render her absolutely deaf—
“He says he thinks you are extremely deaf; so I think you had better hold your tongue and let us go on with our conversation.”
“Deaf, indeed!” returned the woman in a querulous tone; “so I am, though I hear you well enough when you shout like that. Perhaps he’ll be as deaf as I am when he’s as old. There’s nothing like youth for pride and impudence. But go on, never mind me.”
“She’s a poor creature who has sought refuge with me from her persecutors,” said Beniah, turning to the prince, while the old woman fell to crooning a wild song in a low voice, accompanying the music—if such it may be called—by a swaying motion of her body to and fro.
Seeing that she meant to sit there, and that she apparently heard nothing, Bladud resumed the conversation where it had been interrupted.
“Now, as I was saying, you know the country in all directions, and can tell me of the most likely part where I can find what I want—a solitude where I shall be able to escape from the face of man, and build a hut to live in till I die. It may be long, it may be short, before death relieves me. Meanwhile, I can hunt and provide myself with food till the time comes.”
The crooning of the old woman stopped at this point, and she sank her face on her hands as if she had fallen asleep.
“I know of a man—a hunter,” said Beniah, “a wild sort of being, who lives a long way from here, in a beautiful part of the land, where there is a wonderful swamp with a hot spring in the midst of it. Besides hunting, the man who lives there cultivates the ground a little, and keeps a few cattle and pigs. It may be that he can put you in the way of finding what you want; and you need not tell him about your disease, for you are not yet sure about it. Thus you will have an opportunity of keeping out of the way of men until you find out whether the doctor is right about it. He may be wrong, you know. Diseases sometimes resemble each other without being the same.”
Bladud shook his head.
“There can be no doubt that I am doomed,” he said. “I know the disease too well.”
The Hebrew also believed that, if the doctor was right in his opinion, there was no hope for the youth. Being unwilling, however, to dwell upon this point, he asked—
“How did you come by it?”
“Very simply,” answered the prince, who thereupon entered into a graphic account of the incident which we have already recorded. Having done so, he made up his mind, after some further talk, to pay a visit to the hunter who dwelt in the region of the Hot Swamp.
“But you will not surely go without arms?” said Beniah.
“Why not? If I am doomed to die at any rate, why should I take the life of any man to save my own?”
“Let me at least give you a bow and a sheaf of arrows. You cannot procure food without these.”
“Well, you are right. I will accept your kind offer. To say truth, my heart was so crushed at first by this blow, that such matters did not occur to me when I left; for it is terrible to think of having to die of a slow disease without father, mother, or sister to comfort one!”
“It is indeed, my son,” returned Beniah with much feeling. “If you will accept it, I can give you a word of comfort.”
“Give it me,” said Bladud; “for I need it much,—if it be but true.”
“It is true,” returned the Hebrew earnestly; “for in one of the books of our holy men who spoke for the All-Father, it is written, ‘When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.’”
“It is a good word,” returned the prince; “and I can well believe it comes from the All-Father, for is He not also All-Good? Yet I can scarcely claim it as mine, for my father and mother have not forsaken me, but I them.”
A few minutes more, and Bladud rose to depart. He took the bow and arrows in his left hand, and, totally forgetting for the moment the duty of keeping himself aloof from his fellow-men, he shook hands warmly with Beniah, patted the old woman kindly on the shoulder, and went out into the dark night.
The moment he was gone Branwen started up with flashing eyes that were still bedewed with tears, and seized the old man’s hand.
“Child,” he said, “thou hast been weeping.”
“Who could listen to his telling of that old woman’s escape from the bull and the precipice without tears?” she replied. “But tell me, what is this terrible disease that has smitten the prince?”
“It is one well known and much dreaded in the East—called leprosy.”
Here the Hebrew went into a painfully graphic account of the disease; the frightful disfigurement it caused, and its almost, if not quite, certain termination in death.
“And have the queen and Hudibras actually let him go away to die alone?” she exclaimed.
“Not so, my child. Before you interrupted us he told me that he had left home by stealth on purpose. But, Branwen,” continued the old man with some severity, “how could you run such a risk of being discovered?”
“I ran no risk,” she replied, with a laugh.
“Besides, it was not fair to pretend to be deaf and thus obtain all his secrets.”
“I don’t care whether it was fair or not,” replied the girl with a wilful shake of her head. “And was it fair of you to back me up as you did?”
“Your rebuke is just, yet it savours of ingratitude. I should not have done so, but I was completely taken aback. Do you know that your face is dirty?”
“I know it. I made it so on purpose. Now tell me—when are you going away to tell my father and brothers about me?”
“I shall probably start to-morrow. But many days must pass before I can bring them here, for, as you know, their town is a long way off. But, child, you do not seem to reflect that you have betrayed me.”
“How?” asked Branwen, wonderingly.
“Did you not thrust out the plank and cross over before the very eyes of Bladud?”
Branwen pursed her lips into the form of an O and opened her eyes wide.
“I never thought of that!” she said. “But after all it does not matter, for the prince took no notice of the plank, and he is not the man to go and betray secrets!”
The Hebrew laughed, patted the girl on the head and sent her off to rest. Then he busied himself in making preparation for his too long-delayed journey.
Next morning, before daybreak, he set off, leaving Branwen in charge of the hut, with strict orders to keep well out of sight. If any one should come to it she was to retreat to the inner cavern and withdraw the bridge.
“They may do as seemeth to them good in the outer hut. There is nothing there worth stealing, and they are welcome to make themselves at home.”
The Hebrew went on his mission; arrived in due time at his journey’s end; reported Branwen’s dilemma; guided a party of stout warriors under her father Gadarn, and led them to his hut in the dell in the dead of a dark night, for it was no part of the programme to abduct the girl by main force, unless peaceful or stealthy measures should prove unsuccessful. When, however, he reached the dell and entered his dwelling, he found that the bird had flown! Every nook and cranny of the place was carefully searched; but, to the consternation of the Hebrew, and the wrath of Gadarn and his men, not a vestige of Branwen was to be found.
Chapter Sixteen
Adventures in the Forests
Poor Branwen! it was an unfortunate day for her when, in her youthful ignorance and recklessness, she took to the wild woods, resolved to follow Bladud to his destination and secretly wait there and watch over him like a guardian angel, as it were, until the terrible disease should lay him on his deathbed, when she would reveal herself and nurse him to the end!
Let not the reader suppose there was any lack of maiden modesty in this resolve. It must be borne in mind that Branwen was little more than a child in experience; that she was of an age at which the world, with all its affairs, is enveloped in a halo of romance; that her soul had been deeply stirred by the story of the rescue of the leprous old woman, and her pity powerfully aroused by the calm, though hopeless, tones of the doomed man when he spoke of his blighted prospects. Rather than leave him to die in absolute solitude she would sacrifice everything, and, in spite of infection and disfigurement, and the horrible nature of a disease which eats away the features before it kills, she would soothe his dying hours. Besides this, it must be remembered that our ancestors’ notions of propriety were somewhat different from ours, and—well, it was about eight hundred years B.C!
Whether love was a factor in her resolve we cannot say, but we are firmly convinced that, if it were, she was ignorant of the fact.
It is, however, one thing to resolve—quite another thing to carry resolution into effect. Branwen had, in an incidental way, obtained from her protector, Beniah, information as to the direction in which the hunter of the Hot Swamp lived, and the distance to his dwelling; but when she actually found herself in the forest, with nothing to guide her save the position of the sun—and, on cloudy days not even that—she began to realise somewhat of the difficulties that attended her enterprise, and when, on the first night, she crouched among the forked branches of an old oak, and heard the cries of wolves and other wild creatures, and even saw them prowling about by the light of the moon as it flickered through the foliage, she began to appreciate the dangers.
She had not, indeed, been so foolish as to set out on her expedition without a certain amount of forethought—what she deemed careful and wise consideration. She knew that by noting the position of the sun when at its highest point in the sky she could follow pretty closely the direction which Beniah had pointed out to her. She was quite aware that food was absolutely necessary to life, and had packed up a large bundle of dried meat, and also provided herself with one of her host’s bows and a sheaf of arrows. Besides this, she knew, like every girl of the period, how to snare rabbits, and was even expert in throwing stones, so that, if it should come to the worst, she could manage to subsist on little birds. As to sleeping at night, she had been accustomed, as a little girl, to climb trees, which faculty had not yet departed from her, and she knew well that among the branches of many kinds of trees there were cosy resting-places where neither man nor beast would be likely to discover her. She had also some idea of what it is to follow a trail, for she had often heard the king’s chief hunter refer to the process. As it was certain that Bladud, being an enormously big man, would leave a very obvious trail behind him, she would follow that—of course keeping well in the rear, so that he might never dream of her existence or intentions until the fatal time arrived when she should have to appear like a guardian angel and nurse him till he died.
Poor Branwen felt dreadfully depressed when she thought of this termination, and was quite unlike her gay reckless self for a time; but a vague feeling of unbelief in such a catastrophe, and a determination to hope against hope kept her from giving way to absolute despair, and nerved her to vigorous exertion.
It was in this state of mind that she had set the Hebrew’s house in order; carried everything of value to the inner cave; removed the plank bridge; closed the outer door, and had taken her departure.
As already said, she concealed herself among the branches of an old oak the first night, and, although somewhat alarmed by the cries of wild animals, as well as by the appalling solitude and darkness around, she managed to make a fair supper of the dried meat. Then,—she could not tell when,—she fell into a profound slumber, which was not broken until the sun had risen high, and the birds were whistling gaily among the branches—some of them gazing at her in mute surprise, as if they had discovered some new species of gigantic acorn.
She arose with alacrity, her face flushed with abounding health, and her eyes dancing with a gush of youthful hope. But memory stepped in, and the thought of her sad mission caused a sudden collapse. The collapse, however, did not last long. Her eyes chanced to fall on the bundle of dried meat. Appetite immediately supervened. Falling-to, she made a hearty breakfast, and then, looking cautiously round to see that no danger was near, she slipped down from her perch, took up the bow and quiver and bundle of food, threw her blanket, or striped piece of Phoenician cloth, over her shoulder, and resumed her journey.
It was soon after this that Branwen found out the misfortune of ignorance and want of experience. Ere long she began to feel the cravings of thirst, and discovered that she had forgotten to take with her a bottle, or any other sort of receptacle for water. About noon her thirst became so great that she half repented having undertaken the mission. Then it became so intolerable that she felt inclined to sit down and cry. But such an act was so foreign to her nature that she felt ashamed; pursed her lips; contracted her brows; grasped her bow and strode bravely on.
She was rewarded. The tinkling of water broke upon her senses like celestial music. Running forward she came to a little spring, at which she fell on her knees, put her lips to the pool, and drank with thankfulness in her heart. Arising refreshed, she glanced upward, and observed a bird of the pheasant species gazing fixedly down.
“How fortunate!” exclaimed the maiden, fitting an arrow to her bow.
It was not fortunate for the pheasant, evidently, whatever Branwen may have meant, for next moment the bird fell dead—transfixed with an arrow.
Being high noon by that time, the demands of nature made our huntress think of a mid-day meal. And now it was that she became aware of another omission—the result, partly, of inexperience. Having plucked and cleaned the bird, she prepared to roast it, when a sudden indescribable gaze overspread her pretty face. For a moment she stood as if petrified. Then she suddenly laughed, but the laugh was not gleeful, for it is trying to human nature to possess a good appetite and a good dinner without the means of cooking! She had forgotten to take with her materials for producing fire. She knew, indeed, that sticks and friction and fungus were the things required, but she knew not what sort of sticks, or where to find the right kind of fungus, or tinder. Moreover, she had never tried her hand at such work before, and knew not how to begin.
Laying the bird on a bank, therefore, she dined off the dried meat—not, however, so heartily as before, owing to certain vague thoughts about supply and demand—the rudimentary ideas of what now forms part of the science of Political Economy. The first fittings of a careworn expression across her smooth brow, showed, at all events, that domestic economy had begun to trouble her spirit.
“For,” she thought to herself, “the dried meat won’t last long, and I can’t eat raw things—disgusting!—and I’ve a long, long way to go.”
Even at this early period of her mission, her character was beginning to develop a little and to strengthen.
For several days she continued her journey through the great solitudes lying to the north-west of King Hudibras’ town, keeping carefully out of the way of open places, lest wandering hunters should find her, and sleeping in the forked branches of trees at night. Of course the necessity of thus keeping to the dense woods, and making her way through thorny thickets, rendered her journey very fatiguing; but Branwen was unusually strong and healthy, though the grace of her slender frame gave her a rather fragile appearance, and she did not find herself exhausted even at the end of a long day’s march; while her dressed-deerskin skirt and leggings bid defiance to thorns. So did the rude but serviceable shoes which her friend Beniah had constructed for her out of raw hide.
One thing that troubled the poor girl much was the fact that she had not yet discovered the trail of Bladud. In reality, she had crossed it more than once, but, not being possessed of the keen eye of the hunter, she had not observed it, until she came to a muddy swamp, on the edge of which there was an unmistakable track—a trail which a semi-blind man could hardly have missed. Stopping for a few minutes to take particular note of it, she afterwards went on with renewed hope and energy.
But this state of things did not last, for the trail became to her indistinguishable the moment the swamp was passed, and at last, during a very dark wet day, she lost herself as well as the trail. At evening of the same day she climbed into a tree. Opening out her bundle of dried meat, she began to eat and bemoan her fate. Tears were in her eyes, and there was a slight tendency to sob in her voice, as she muttered to herself—
“I—I wouldn’t mind being lost so much, if I only knew what to do or where to go. And this meat won’t hold out another week at the rate I’ve been eating. But I could hardly help it—I have been so hungry. Indeed, I’m hungry now, but I must not eat so much. Let me see. I shall divide it into two parts. That will last me twelve days or so, by which time I should be there—if I’m still going in the right direction. And now, divide the half into six—there—each of these will do for— Oh! but I forgot, that’s only enough for breakfast. It will need two portions for each day, as it will be impossible to do without supper. I must just eat half of to-night’s portion, and see how it feels.”
With this complicated end in view, she dried her eyes and began supper, and when she had finished it she seemed to “see” that it didn’t “feel” enough, for, after much earnest consideration, she quietly began to eat the second portion, and consumed it.
She was putting away the remnants, and feeling altogether in a more satisfactory state of mind, when her eyes fell upon an object which caused her heart to bound with alarm, and drove all the colour from her cheeks.
At the foot of the tree, looking up at her in blank amazement—open-eyed and mouthed—stood a man; a big, rough-looking man, in hairy garments and with a hairy face, which was topped by a head of hair that rendered a cap needless. He stood with his feet apart and an arrow across his bow, like one who sees a lovely bird which he is about to bring down.
“Oh! don’t shoot!” she cried, becoming suddenly and alarmingly aware of the action—“don’t shoot! It’s me! I—I’m a girl—not a beast!”
To make quite sure that the man understood her, Branwen jumped to the ground quickly and stood before him.
Recovering himself, the man lowered his bow and said something in a dialect so uncouth, that the poor girl did not understand him. Indeed, she perceived, to her horror, that he was half-witted, and could articulate with difficulty.
“I don’t know what you say, good man, but I am lost in this forest, and belong to King Hudibras’ town. I am on my way to visit the hunter of the Hot Swamp, and I would think it so very, very kind if you would guide me to his hut.”
The idiot—for such he was—evidently understood the maiden, though she did not understand him, for he threw back his head, and gave vent to a prolonged gurgling laugh.
Branwen felt that her only chance was to put a bold face on matters. She, therefore, by a violent effort, subdued her emotion and continued.
“You know King Hudibras?”
The man nodded and grinned.
“Then I am quite sure that if you behave well, and show me the way to the Hot Swamp, he will reward you in a way that will make your heart dance with joy. Come, guide me. We have a good deal of the day still before us.”
Thus speaking, she put her hand quietly within that of the idiot, and in a voice of authority said—“lead on!”
Regarding the girl with a look of mute surprise, the man obeyed, but, instead of leading her to the region named, he conducted her over a neighbouring ridge, into what appeared to her to be a robber’s den. There was nothing for it now but to carry out the rôle which she had laid down. The desperate nature of the case seemed to strengthen her to play her part, for, as she was led into the circle of light caused by a camp-fire, round which a band of wild-looking men were standing, a spirit of calm determination seemed to take possession of her soul.
“What strange sort of animal is this you have caught, lad?” demanded one of the band.
Before an answer could be given, a tall, fierce-looking woman came out of a booth, or temporary hut, close to the camp-fire, pushed her way through the crowd of men, who fell back respectfully, and, going up to Branwen, grasped her by the wrist.
“Never ye mind what animal she is,” cried the woman, shaking her fist at the man who had spoken, “she is my property.” Then, turning to her captive as she led her into the hut, she said:
“Don’t be afraid, my dear. Black-hearted though some of them are, not one will dare to touch you as long as you are under my protection.”
