Enemies, Friends, Scouts, Skirmishes, and Councils of War.
Arkal’s attention had been arrested by the figure of a man who suddenly appeared from behind a cliff not four hundred yards distant from the scene of their recent exploit. The stealthy manner in which the man moved among the bushes, and the earnest gaze which he directed from time to time in one particular direction, showed clearly that he was watching the movements of something—it might be a deer or an enemy.
“Evidently he has not seen us,” whispered Maikar.
“Clear enough that, for he is not looking this way,” returned Arkal. “He presents his back to us in a careless way, which he would hardly do if he knew that two crack bowmen were a hundred yards astern of him.”
“Shall I shoot him?” whispered Maikar, preparing his weapons.
“He may be a friend,” returned the captain. “But, see! yonder comes what interests him so much. Look!”
He pointed to a distant ridge, over the brow of which the head of Gunrig’s column of men was just appearing.
“He is a scout!” exclaimed Maikar.
“Ay, and you may be sure that an enemy is not far off ahead of our column—unless, perchance, he may be the scout of some tribe friendly to the king. Hold your hand, Maikar. You are ever too ready to fight. Listen, now; yonder is a convenient hollow where I may get into the thick wood unseen by this scout, and run back to warn our friends. Ahead, yonder, is a narrow pass which leads, no doubt, into the next valley. Run you, as fast as your legs can wag, get through that pass, and see what you can see. In the nature of things the scout is almost sure to return through it, if he intends to carry the news of our approach to his people, who are probably there. You must hide and do the best you can to prevent him from doing this—either by killing him or knocking him down. Be off, we have no time to lose.”
“But how if he should be a friend?” asked Maikar with a smile. “How am I to find out?”
Arkal paused and was perplexed.
“You must just exercise your wisdom,” he replied. “If the fellow has an ill-looking countenance, kill him. If he looks a sensible sort of man, stretch him out somehow. I would offer to go instead of you, being more of a match for him, but I could not match his legs or yours, so it might well chance that he would reach the pass before me.”
“Pooh, captain,” retorted Maikar, with a look of scorn. “Ye think too much of yourself, and are unwarrantably puffed up about the advantage of size.”
Without a reply—save a grin—Arkal turned, and, jumping into the bushes, was immediately out of sight. His comrade, before starting off to carry out his part of the programme, took a good look at the scout whom he was bound to circumvent.
He was evidently a tall, powerful man, armed with a bow, a short sword, and a stout staff somewhat longer than himself. That he was also a brave and cool man seemed probable, from the fact that, instead of hurrying off hastily to warn his friends that troops were in sight, he stood calmly leaning on his staff as if for the purpose of ascertaining the exact number of the strangers before reporting them.
He was still engaged in this inspection when Maikar started off and fled on the wings of hope and excitement toward the pass. Arrived there, his first glance revealed to him the troops of Addedomar busy with their evening meal in the valley below.
“The question is, are they friends or foes?” thought the little seaman. “H’m! it’s an awkward thing for a poor fellow not to be quite sure whether to prepare for calms or squalls. Such a misfortune never could befall one at sea. Well, I must just take them to be foes till they prove themselves to be friends. And this scout, what in the world am I to do about him? I have no heart to hide in the bushes and shoot him dead as he passes.”
The little man had probably forgotten his readiness to shoot the scout in the back only a few minutes before—but is not mankind at large prone to inconsistency at times?
“I know what I’ll do,” he muttered, pursuing his thoughts, and nodding his head, as he stepped aside into the shrubbery that clothed the slopes of the pass.
Cutting down a suitable branch from a tree, he quickly stripped off the smaller branches and reduced it to a staff about six feet in length. Then, hiding himself behind a part of the cliff which abutted close on the footpath that had been worn through the pass by men and wild animals, he laid his bow and quiver at his feet and awaited the coming of the scout.
He had not to wait long, for that worthy, having ascertained the size of the invading band, came down the pass at a swinging trot. Just as he passed the jutting rock his practised eye caught sight of Maikar in time to avoid the blow of the pole or staff, which was aimed at his head, but not to escape the dig in the ribs with which the little man followed it up.
Instantly the scout’s right hand flew to his quiver, but before he could fix an arrow another blow from the staff broke the bow in his left hand.
Blazing with astonishment and wrath at such rough treatment from so small a man, he stepped back, drew his sword and glared at his opponent.
Maikar also stepped back a pace or two and held up his hand as if for a truce.
“I too have a sword,” he said, pointing to the weapon, “and can use it, but I have no desire to slay you till I know whether you are friend or foe.”
“Slay me! thou insignificant rat!” cried the scout in savage fury. “Even if we were friends I would have to pay thee for that dig in the ribs and the broken bow. But I scorn to take advantage of such a squirrel. Have at thee with my staff!”
Running at him as he spoke, the scout delivered a blow that would have acted like the hammer of Thor had it taken effect, but the seaman deftly dipped his head and the blow fell on a neighbouring birch, and a foot or so of the staff snapped off. What remained, however, was still a formidable weapon, but before the scout could use it he received another dig in the ribs which called forth a yell of indignation rather than of pain.
The appropriateness of the name squirrel now became apparent, for Maikar even excelled that agile creature in the rapidity with which he waltzed round the sturdy scout and delivered his stinging little blows. To do the scout justice, he played his part like a brave and active warrior, so that it seemed to rain blows and digs in all directions, and, once or twice, as by a miracle, Maikar escaped what threatened to be little, if at all, short of extermination. As in running, so in fighting, it is the pace that kills. After five minutes or so both combatants were winded. They separated, as if by mutual consent, and, leaning on their staves, panted vehemently.
Then at it they went again.
“Thou little scrap of a pig’s snout, come on,” shouted the scout in huge disdain.
“Thou big skinful of pride! look out!” cried Maikar, rendering the adoption of his own advice impossible by thrusting the butt of his staff against the scout’s nose, and thereby filling his eyes with water. At the next moment he rendered him still more helpless by bestowing a whack on his crown which laid him flat on the footpath.
A cheer behind him at that moment caused the little man to look round, when he found that the head of Gunrig’s column, led by Arkal, had come up just in time to witness the final blow.
They were still crowding round the fallen man, and asking hurried questions about him, when a voice from the heights above hailed them. Instantly a score or two of arrows were pointed in that direction.
“Hold your hands, men!” shouted Gunrig. “I know that voice—ay, and the face too. Is it not the white beard of our friend the Hebrew that I see?”
A few minutes more proved that he was right, for the well-known figure of Beniah descended the sides of the pass.
The news he brought proved to be both surprising and perplexing, for up to that moment Gunrig had been utterly ignorant of the recent arrival of Gadarn from the far north in search of his lost daughter, though of course he was well aware of the various unsuccessful efforts that had been made by King Hudibras in that direction. Moreover,............