Robert Michael Ballantyne
The Hot Swamp
Chapter Seventeen
Branwen in Imminent Danger
It is a wonderful, but at the same time, we think, a universal and important fact, that love permeates the universe. Even a female snail, if we could only put the question, would undoubtedly admit that it loves its little ones.
At least we have the strongest presumption from analogy that the idea is correct, for do we not find lions and tigers, apes and gorillas, engaged in lovingly licking—we don’t mean whipping—and otherwise fondling their offspring? Even in Hades we find the lost rich man praying for the deliverance of his brethren from torment, and that, surely, was love in the form of pity. At all events, whatever name we may give it, there can be no doubt it was unselfish. And even selfishness is love misapplied.
Yes, let us be thankful that in one form or another love permeates the universe, and there is no place, however unfavourable, and no person, however unlikely, that can altogether escape from its benign influence.
We have been led to these reflections by the contemplation of that rugged, hard-featured, square-shouldered, angry old woman who so opportunely took Branwen under her protection.
Why she did so was a complete mystery to the poor girl, for the woman seemed to have no amiable traits of character about her, and she spoke so harshly to every one—even to her timid captive—that Branwen could not help suspecting she was actuated by some sinister motive in protecting her.
And Branwen was right. She had indeed a sinister end in view—but love was at the bottom even of that. The woman, whose name was Ortrud, had a son who was to the full as ugly and unamiable as herself, and she loved that son, although he treated her shamefully, abused her, and sometimes even threatened to beat her. To do him justice, he never carried the threat into execution. And, strange to say, this unamiable blackguard also loved his mother—not very demonstratively, it is true, except in the abusive manner above mentioned.
This rugged creature had a strong objection to the wild, lawless life her son was leading, for instead of sticking to the tribe to which he belonged, and pillaging, fighting with, and generally maltreating every other tribe that was not at peace with his, this mistaken young man had associated himself with a band of like-minded desperadoes—who made him their chief—and took to pillaging the members of every tribe that misfortune cast in his way. Now, it occurred to Ortrud that the best way to wean her son from his evil ways would be to get him married to some gentle, pretty, affectionate girl, whose influence would be exerted in favour of universal peace instead of war, and the moment she set eyes on Branwen, she became convinced that her ambition was on the point of attainment. Hence her unexpected and sudden display of interest in the fair captive, whom she meant to guard till the return of her son from a special marauding expedition, in which he was engaged at the time with a few picked men.
Whatever opinion the reader may have by this time formed of Branwen, we wish it to be understood that she had “a way with her” of insinuating herself into the good graces of all sorts and conditions of men—including women and children. She was particularly successful with people of disagreeable and hardened character. It is not possible to explain why, but, such being the case, it is not surprising that she soon wormed herself into the confidence of the old woman, to such an extent, that the latter was ere long tempted to make her more or less of a confidant.
One day, about a week after the arrival of our heroine in the camp, old Ortrud asked her how she would like to live always in the green woods. The look of uncertainty with which she put the question convinced the captive that it was a leading one.
“I should like it well,” she replied, “if I had pleasant company to live with.”
“Of course, of course, my dear, you would need that—and what company could be more pleasant than that of a good stout man who could keep you in meat and skins and firewood?”
Any one with a quarter of Branwen’s intelligence would have guessed at once that the woman referred to her absent son, about whose good qualities she had been descanting at various times for several days past. The poor girl shuddered as the light broke in on her, and a feeling of dismay at her helpless condition, and being entirely in the power of these savages, almost overcame her, but her power of self-restraint did not fail her. She laughed, blushed in spite of herself, and said she was too young to look at the matter in that light!
“Not a bit; not a bit!” rejoined Ortrud. “I was younger than you when my husband ran away with me.”
“Ran away with you, Ortrud?” cried Branwen, laughing outright.
“Ay; I was better-looking then than I am now, and not nigh so heavy. He wouldn’t find it so easy,” said the woman, with a sarcastic snort, “to run away with me now.”
“No, and he wouldn’t be so much inclined to do so, I should think,” thought Branwen, but she had the sense not to say so.
“That’s a very, very nice hunting shirt you are making,” remarked Branwen, anxious to change the subject.
The woman was pleased with the compliment. She was making a coat at the time, of a dressed deer-skin, using a fish-bone needle, with a sinew for a thread.
“Yes, it is a pretty one,” she replied. “I’m making it for my younger son, who is away with his brother, though he’s only a boy yet.”
“Do you expect him back soon?” asked the captive, with a recurrence of the sinking heart.
“In a few days, I hope. Yes, you are right, my dear; the coat is a pretty one, and he is a pretty lad that shall wear it—not very handsome in the face, to be sure; but what does that matter so long as he’s stout and strong and kind? I am sure his elder brother, Addedomar, will be kind to you though he is a bit rough to me sometimes.”
Poor Branwen felt inclined to die on the spot at this cool assumption that she was to become a bandit’s wife; but she succeeded in repressing all appearance of feeling as she rose, and, stretching up her arms, gave vent to a careless yawn.
“I must go and have a ramble now,” she said. “I’m tired of sitting so long.”
“Don’t be long, my dear,” cried the old woman, as the captive left the hut, “for the ribs must be nigh roasted by this time.”
Branwen walked quickly till she gained the thick woods; then she ran, and, finally sitting down on a bank, burst into a passion of tears. But it was not her nature to remain in a state of inactive woe. Having partially relieved her feelings she dried her tears and began to think. Her thinking was seldom or never barren of results. To escape somehow, anyhow, everyhow, was so urgent that she felt it to be essential to the very existence of the universe—her universe at least—that she should lift herself out of the Impossible into the Stick-at-nothing. The thing must be done—by miracle if not otherwise.
And she succeeded—not by miracle but by natural means—as the reader shall find out all in good time.
Chapter Eighteen
The Prince Undertakes Strange Work
When Prince Bladud entered upon what he really believed would be his last journey, he naturally encountered very different experiences, being neither so ignorant, so helpless, nor so improvident as his helpless follower.
After a good many days of unflagging perseverance, therefore, he reached the neighbourhood of the Hot Swamp, in good spirits and in much better health than when he set out. He was, indeed, almost restored to his usual vigour of body, for the fever by which he had been greatly weakened had passed away, and the constant walking and sleeping in fresh air had proved extremely beneficial. We know not for certain whether the leprosy by which he had been attacked was identical in all respects with the fatal disease known in the East, or whether it was something akin to it, or the same in a modified form. The only light which is thrown by our meagre records on this point is that it began with fever and then, after a period of what seemed convalescence, or inaction, it continued to progress slowly but surely. Of course the manner in which it had been caught was more than presumptive evidence that it was at least of the nature of the fatal plague of the East.
Although his immunity from present suffering tended naturally to raise the spirits of the prince, it did not imbue him with much, if any, hope, for he knew well he might linger for months—even for years—before the disease should sap all his strength and finally dry up the springs of life.
This assurance was so strong upon him that, as we have said, he once—indeed more than once—thought of taking his own life. But the temptation passed quickly. He was too conscientious and too brave to do that; and had none of that moral cowardice which seeks escape from the inevitable in hoped-for oblivion. Whether his life was the gift of many gods or of one God, he held that it was a sacred trust which he was bound in honour to guard. Therefore he fought manfully against depression of spirits, as one of the destroyers of life, and even encouraged hope, frequently looking at the fatal white spot on his shoulder, and trying to persuade himself that it was not spreading.
In this state of mind Bladud arrived one day at the abode of the hunter of the Hot Swamp. It was not, indeed, close to the springs which caused the swamp, but stood in a narrow sequestered gully quite five miles distant from it. The spot had been chosen as one which was not likely to be discovered by wanderers, and could be easily defended if it should be found. Moreover, its owner, as Bladud had been warned, was a fierce, morose man, who loved solitude and resented interference of any kind, and this was so well known in the thinly-peopled neighbourhood that every one kept carefully out of his way.
Sometimes this eccentric hunter appeared at the nearest village—twenty miles distant from his home—with some pigs to barter for the few commodities which he wanted from time to time; but he and his horse, cow, and dogs ate up all the remaining produce of his small farm—if such it might be called.
It was a beautiful evening when the prince walked up to the door of the little hut, in front of which its owner was standing, eyeing him with a forbidding scowl as he approached.
He was in truth a strange and formidable man, such as one would rather not meet with in a lonely place. There appear to have been giants in those days; for this hunter of the Hot Swamp was nearly, if not quite, as tall as Bladud himself, and to all appearance fully as strong of limb. A mass of black hair covered his head and chin; a skin hunting-shirt his body, and a hairy boar-skin was thrown across his broad shoulders. Altogether, he seemed to his visitor the very personification of ferocity. A huge bow, ready strung, leaned against his hut. As Bladud advanced with his own bow unstrung, the man apparently scorned to take it up, but he grasped and leaned upon a staff proportioned to his size.
Anxious to propitiate this mysterious being, the prince approached with steady, unaffected ease of manner, and a look of goodwill which might have conciliated almost any one; but it had no effect on the hunter.
“What want ye here?” he demanded, when his visitor was near enough.
“To enter your service.”
“My service!” exclaimed the man with a look of surprise that for a moment banished the scowl. “I want no servant. I can serve myself well enough. And, truly, it seems to me that a man like you should be ashamed to talk of service. You are more fitted for a master than a servant. I trow you must have some bad motive for seeking service with a man like me. Have you murdered any one, that you flee from the face of your fellows and seek to hide you here?”
“No, I am not a murderer.”
“What then? Are you desirous of becoming one, and making me your victim?” asked the hunter, with a look of contempt; “for you will find that no easy job, stout though you be. I have a good mind to crack your crown for coming here to disturb my solitude!”
“Two can play at that game,” replied Bladud, with a seraphic smile. “But I am truly a man of peace. I merely want to look after your cattle for occupation; I will gladly live in the woods, away from your dwelling, if you will let me serve you—my sole desire being, like your own, to live—and, if need be, to die—alone.”
For a few moments there was a softened expression on the hunter’s face as he asked, in a tone that had something almost of sympathy in it—
“Is there a woman at the bottom of this?”
“No. Woman has nothing to do with it—at least, not exactly—not directly,” returned Bladud.
“Hah!” exclaimed the man, paying no regard to the modification implied in the answer; and advancing a step, with eager look, “did she tempt you on and then deceive you; and scorn you, and forsake you for another man?”
“You mistake me. The poor woman I was thinking of was an old one, labouring under a deadly disease.”
On hearing this the hunter’s softened look vanished, and his former scowl returned.
“Go!” he said, sternly; “I can take care of the cattle myself, without help. But stay, a man of your peaceful nature and humility may, perchance, not be too proud to take charge of pigs.”
Bladud flushed—not so much because of the proposal as the tone of contempt in which it was uttered; but, remembering his condition and his object, he mastered his feelings.
“I am willing to take charge of your pigs,” he said, in a quiet tone; “where do they feed?”
“A goodish bit from here. Not far from the Hot Swamp, that lies on the other side of the hill.”
The man pointed to a high ridge, just visible beyond the gully in which his hut lay concealed, which was clothed from base to summit with dense forest.
“There are plenty of pigs there,” he continued in a milder tone. “How many I don’t know, and don’t care. I brought the old ones here, and they have multiplied. If you choose to keep them together, you are welcome. I want only a few of them now and then. When I do, I hunt them together and drive them with my dogs. You may kill and eat of them as you please; but don’t come nigh my hut, mind you, else will I put an arrow in your heart.”
“Good, I will take care,” returned the prince gravely. “And if you come nigh my dwelling, is it understood that I am to put an arrow in your heart? I could easily do it, for I am a fair marksman.”
Something approaching almost to a smile crossed the hunter’s swart visage at this reply. It did not last, however.
“Go!” he said. “Keep your jesting for the pigs, if they have a mind to listen.”
“I will try them. Mayhap they are more sociable than their owner. And now, master, might I ask for the loan of one of your dogs? It might be useful in herding.”
“None of them would follow you. Yet—yes, the pup might do so. It has not yet come to care for me much.”
So saying, the man went to the rear of his hut, and, from the kennel there, fetched a young but full-grown dog, somewhat resembling a retriever, which gambolled joyously at the prospect of being let out for a run.
“There, take him. He comes of a good breed. Keep the leash on his neck till you have given him his first feed; he’ll follow you after that.”
“What is his name?” asked the prince.
“No name. Like his master in that!”
Taking the leash in his hand, Bladud said farewell, and went away into the woods, while the hunter of the Swamp, turning round, stooped as he entered his hut, and shut the door behind him.
It may seem strange that the prince should thus voluntarily seek for menial occupation, but, in truth, he shrank from the idea of living absolutely to himself alone, and felt a strong desire to have some sort of responsibility in connection with a human being, however short his life on earth might be, or however uncouth the individual with whom he might have to do—for man is intensely social, as only those who have dwelt in absolute solitude can thoroughly understand.
Chapter Nineteen
Prince Bladud takes Possession of his Estate and Begins Business
Pondering over the circumstances of the strange being from whom he had just parted, Bladud proceeded to the summit of the hill, or ridge of high land, on the other side of which lay the region in which he had made up his mind to end his days.
It took him full two hours to make his way through the dense underwood to the top; but when this point was reached, the magnificent panorama of land and water which met his view was a feast to his eyes, which for a time caused him to forget his forlorn condition.
In all directions, wherever he gazed, ridges and knolls, covered with dense woods and richest vegetation, were seen extending from his elevated outlook to the distant horizon. Cliffs, precipices, dells, and bright green open spaces varied the landscape; and in the bottom of the great valley which lay immediately beneath his feet there meandered a broad river, in whose waters were reflected here and there the overhanging trees, or green patches of its flower-bespangled banks, or the rich browns and yellows of spots where these banks had been broken away by floods; while, elsewhere, were seen glittering patches of the blue sky.
Far away in the extreme distance a soft cloud of thin transparent vapour hung steadily over a partially open space, which he rightly conjectured to be the Hot Swamp, of which he had often heard wondrous stories in his boyhood, but which he had not been permitted to visit, owing to the tribes living near the springs having been at war with his father. During his absence in the East, King Hudibras had attacked and almost exterminated the tribes in question, so that the Hot Swamp region, just at the time when the prince arrived, was a land of desolation.
Though desolate, however, it was, as we have tried to show, exceeding lovely, so that our wanderer was ravished with the prospect, and seated himself on a bank near the top of the ridge to contemplate its beauties in detail.
His canine companion sat down beside him, and looked up inquiringly in his face.
During the first part of the journey the pup had strained a good deal at the leash, and had displayed a strong desire to return to its former master, as well as a powerful objection to follow its new one. It had also, with that perversity of spirit not uncommon in youth, exhibited a proneness to advance on the other side of bushes and trees from its companion, thus necessitating frequent halts and numerous disentanglements. On all of these occasions Bladud had remonstrated in tones so soft, and had rectified the error so gently, that the pup was evidently impressed. Possibly it was an observant pup, and appreciated the advantages of human kindness. Perhaps it was a sagacious pup, and already recognised the difference between the old master and the new.
Be this as it may, Bladud had not been long seated there in a state of dreamy abstraction, when he became conscious of the inquiring look. Returning it with interest, but without speaking, he gazed steadily into the soft brown eyes that were turned up to his. At last the prince opened his lips, and the dog, turning his head slightly to one side with a look of expectancy, cocked his ears.
“Browneyes,” he said, “you’ll grow to be a fine dog if you live.”
There was the slightest possible tremor in the pup’s tail. Of course there might have been more than a tremor if the caudal appendage had been at liberty instead of being sat upon. It was enough, however, to indicate a tendency to goodwill.
“Come here, Browneyes,” said Bladud, holding out his hand.
But the pup was hardly prepared for such a complete and sudden concession as the invitation implied. He repeated the tremor, however, and turned his head to the other side, by way of a change, but sat still.
A happy thought occurred to the prince—justifying the remark of Solomon that there is nothing new under the sun. He opened his wallet, took out a small piece of meat, and held it out.
“Here, Brownie, have a bit.” Another justification of Solomon, for the natural abbreviation of names is not new!
The pup advanced with confidence, ate the morsel, and looked inquiringly for more, at the same time wagging its tail with unqualified satisfaction.
“Yes, Brownie, you shall have more.”
The second morsel was bestowed; the tail wagged effusively; the name of Brownie became irrevocably associated with food, and a loving look and tone with favours to come. Thus a title and a friendship were established which endured through life and was terminated only by death. So trivial sometimes are the incidents on which the great events of life are hinged!
We pause here to deprecate the idea that this fine animal’s affection was gained through its stomach. Many a time had its old master thrown it savoury junks and bones of food; but a scowl and sometimes a growl, had often been thrown into the mess, thereby robbing the gift of all grace, and checking the outflow of affection. Bladud’s character similarly, was as clearly perceived by the manner of his gifts. Indeed, it would have been a poor compliment to the intelligence of Brownie—or of any dog, young or old—to suppose it capable of misunderstanding the gentle tone, the kindly glance, and the patting hand of Bladud. At all events, the result was that Brownie, with an expressive wag and bark, vowed fidelity from that date to the prince, and, in the same act, renounced allegiance to the hunter of the Hot Swamp.
From that date, too, the master and the dog entered upon, and kept up at frequent though brief intervals, a species of conversation or mental intercourse which, if not profound, was equal to much that passes for intercourse among men, and was, at all events, a source of eminent satisfaction to both.
Removing the leash, Bladud descended the hill, with Brownie gambolling delightedly round him.
That night they slept together under the spreading branches of a magnificent oak.
There was no need to keep watch against wild beasts, for Brownie slept, as it were, with one eye open, and the slightest symptom of curiosity among the wild fraternity was met by a growl so significant that the would-be intruder sheered off.
The sun was high when the prince awoke and arose from his bed of leaves. The pup, although awake long before, had dutifully lain still, abiding his master’s time. It now arose and shook itself, yawned, and looked up with an expression of “what next?”
Having lighted a fire, Bladud set up the carcase of a wild duck to roast. He had shot it the day before on his way to the valley of the Swamp. As this was a proceeding in which the pup had a prospective interest, he sat by attentively.
“Ah! Brownie,” said his master, sitting down to wait for the cooking of the bird, “you little know what a sad life awaits you. No companionship but that of a doomed man, and I fear you will be a poor nurse when the end comes, though assuredly you will not be an unsympathetic one. But it may be long before the end. That’s the worst of it. Come, have a bit.”
He threw him a leg as he spoke, and the two breakfasted peacefully together on the banks of the shining river, slaking their thirst, after it was finished, at the same pure stream.
While doing so the prince observed with satisfaction that large trout were rising freely, and that several flocks of wild ducks and other aquatic birds passed both up and down the river.
“Now, Brownie,” he said, when the meal was concluded, “you and I must search for a convenient spot on which to build our hut.”
Before starting off, however, he uncovered his shoulder and looked anxiously at the white spot. It was as obvious as ever, but did not seem to him increased since he left home. A very slight matter will sometimes give hope to a despairing man. Under the influence of this negative comfort, Bladud took up his weapons and sallied forth, closely followed by the pup.
In the haste of departure and the depressed state of his mind he had, as has been said, forgotten his sword, or deliberately left it behind him. The only weapon he now possessed, besides the bow and arrows given to him by the Hebrew, was a small bronze hatchet, which was, however, of little use for anything except cutting down small trees and branches for firewood. He carried a little knife, also, in his girdle, but it was much too small to serve the purpose of an offensive weapon, though it was well suited to skin wild animals and cut up his food. As for his staff, or club—it might be of use in a contest with men, but would be of little service against bears or wolves. Casting it aside, therefore, he cut for himself a ponderous oaken staff about five feet long, at one end of which there was a heavy knotted mass that gave it great weight. The other end he sharpened to a fine point. This formidable weapon he purposed to wield with both hands when using it as a club, while, if need should arise, he might also use it as a spear.
“I was foolish, Brownie,” he remarked, while rounding off the head of this club, “to leave my good sword behind me, for though I have no desire to kill men, there may arise a need-be to kill bears. However, it cannot be helped, and, verily, this little thing will be a pretty fair substitute.”
He twirled the little thing round his head with one hand in a way that would have rejoiced the heart of a modern Irishman had he been there to see, and induced the pup to jump aside in surprise with his tail between his legs.
A few minutes later, and he was striding over the beautiful land in all directions, examining and taking possession, as it were, of his fair domain.
In passing over a knoll which was crowned by several magnificent oaks, they came suddenly on a family of black pigs, which were luxuriating on the acorns that covered the ground.
“My future care!” muttered the prince, with a grim smile, for he hardly believed in the truth of all he was going through, and almost expected to awake and find it was a dream.
The pigs, headed by a huge old boar, caught sight of the intruders at the same time, and stood for a moment or two grunting in stolid astonishment.
With all the gaiety of inexperience, the pup went at them single-handed, causing the whole herd to turn and fly with ear-splitting screams—the old boar bringing up the rear, and looking round out of the corner of his little eyes with wicked intent.
Bladud, knowing the danger, sprang after them, shouting to the pup to come back. But Brownie’s war-spirit had been aroused, and his training in obedience had only just begun. In a moment he was alongside the boar, which turned its head and gave him a savage rip with a gleaming tusk. Fortunately it just barely reached the pup’s flank, which it cut slightly, but quite enough to cause him to howl with anger and pain.
Before the boar could repeat the operation, Bladud sent his club whizzing in advance of him. It was well aimed. The heavy head alighted just above the root of the boar’s curly tail. Instantly, as if anticipating the inventions of the future, fifty steam whistles seemed to burst into full cry. The other pigs, in sympathetic alarm, joined in chorus, and thus, yelling inconceivably, they plunged into a thicket and disappeared.
Bladud almost fell to the ground with laughing, while Brownie, in no laughing mood, came humbly forward to claim and receive consolation. But he received more than consolation, for, while the prince was engaged in binding up the wound, he poured upon him such a flood of solemn remonstrance, in a tone of such injured feeling, that the pup was evidently cut to the heart—his self-condemned, appealing looks proving beyond a doubt that the meaning of what was said was plain to him, though the language might be obscure.
On continuing the march, Brownie limped behind his master—a sadder and a wiser dog. They had not gone far when they came on another family of pigs, which fled as before. A little further on, another herd was discovered, wallowing in a marshy spot. It seemed to Bladud that there was no good feeding in that place, and that the creatures were dirtying themselves with no obvious end in view, so, with the pup’s rather unwilling assistance, he drove them to more favourable ground, where the acorns were abundant.
At this point he reached a secluded part of the valley, or, rather, an off-shoot from it, where a low precipice rose on one side, and thick flowering shrubs protected the other. The spot was considerably elevated above the level of the low ground, and from an opening in the shrubbery at the further extremity could be seen the larger valley with all its wealth of forest and meadow, its knolls, and slopes, and wooded uplands, with the river winding like a silver thread throughout its whole extent.
Here the prince resolved to fix his abode, and, not a little pleased with the successful way in which he had commenced his amateur pig-herding, he set vigorously and patiently to work with the little bronze hatchet, to fell such trees as would be required in the construction of his future home.
