Chapter Chapter 21 · Chapter XXI

. Chapter XXI

“I put my life in my hands.”

_The Book of Judges_.

At length, with much toil and equal delight, our armour was finished.

We armed each other, and tested the strength of the defence, with many

blows of loving force. I was inferior in strength to both my brothers,

but a little more agile than either; and upon this agility, joined to

precision in hitting with the point of my weapon, I grounded my hopes

of success in the ensuing combat. I likewise laboured to develop yet

more the keenness of sight with which I was naturally gifted; and, from

the remarks of my companions, I soon learned that my endeavours were

not in vain.

The morning arrived on which we had determined to make the attempt, and

succeed or perish—perhaps both. We had resolved to fight on foot;

knowing that the mishap of many of the knights who had made the

attempt, had resulted from the fright of their horses at the appearance

of the giants; and believing with Sir Gawain, that, though mare’s sons

might be false to us, the earth would never prove a traitor. But most

of our preparations were, in their immediate aim at least, frustrated.

We rose, that fatal morning, by daybreak. We had rested from all labour

the day before, and now were fresh as the lark. We bathed in cold

spring water, and dressed ourselves in clean garments, with a sense of

preparation, as for a solemn festivity. When we had broken our fast, I

took an old lyre, which I had found in the tower and had myself

repaired, and sung for the last time the two ballads of which I have

said so much already. I followed them with this, for a closing song:

Oh, well for him who breaks his dream

With the blow that ends the strife

And, waking, knows the peace that flows

Around the pain of life!

We are dead, my brothers! Our bodies clasp,

As an armour, our souls about;

This hand is the battle-axe I grasp,

And this my hammer stout.

Fear not, my brothers, for we are dead;

No noise can break our rest;

The calm of the grave is about the head,

And the heart heaves not the breast.

And our life we throw to our people back,

To live with, a further store;

We leave it them, that there be no lack

In the land where we live no more.

Oh, well for him who breaks his dream

With the blow that ends the strife

And, waking, knows the peace that flows

Around the noise of life!

As the last few tones of the instrument were following, like a dirge,

the death of the song, we all sprang to our feet. For, through one of

the little windows of the tower, towards which I had looked as I sang,

I saw, suddenly rising over the edge of the slope on which our tower

stood, three enormous heads. The brothers knew at once, by my looks,

what caused my sudden movement. We were utterly unarmed, and there was

no time to arm.

But we seemed to adopt the same resolution simultaneously; for each

caught up his favourite weapon, and, leaving his defence behind, sprang

to the door. I snatched up a long rapier, abruptly, but very finely

pointed, in my sword-hand, and in the other a sabre; the elder brother

seized his heavy battle-axe; and the younger, a great, two-handed

sword, which he wielded in one hand like a feather. We had just time to

get clear of the tower, embrace and say good-bye, and part to some

little distance, that we might not encumber each other’s motions, ere

the triple giant-brotherhood drew near to attack us. They were about

twice our height, and armed to the teeth. Through the visors of their

helmets their monstrous eyes shone with a horrible ferocity. I was in

the middle position, and the middle giant approached me. My eyes were

busy with his armour, and I was not a moment in settling my mode of

attack. I saw that his body-armour was somewhat clumsily made, and that

the overlappings in the lower part had more play than necessary; and I

hoped that, in a fortunate moment, some joint would open a little, in a

visible and accessible part. I stood till he came near enough to aim a

blow at me with the mace, which has been, in all ages, the favourite

weapon of giants, when, of course, I leaped aside, and let the blow

fall upon the spot where I had been standing. I expected this would

strain the joints of his armour yet more. Full of fury, he made at me

again; but I kept him busy, constantly eluding his blows, and hoping

thus to fatigue him. He did not seem to fear any assault from me, and I

attempted none as yet; but while I watched his motions in order to

avoid his blows, I, at the same time, kept equal watch upon those

joints of his armour, through some one of which I hoped to reach his

life. At length, as if somewhat fatigued, he paused a moment, and drew

himself slightly up; I bounded forward, foot and hand, ran my rapier

right through to the armour of his back, let go the hilt, and passing

under his right arm, turned as he fell, and flew at him with my sabre.

At one happy blow I divided the band of his helmet, which fell off, and

allowed me, with a second cut across the eyes, to blind him quite;

after which I clove his head, and turned, uninjured, to see how my

brothers had fared. Both the giants were down, but so were my brothers.

I flew first to the one and then to the other couple. Both pairs of

combatants were dead, and yet locked together, as in the

death-struggle. The elder had buried his battle-axe in the body of his

foe, and had fallen beneath him as he fell. The giant had strangled him

in his own death-agonies. The younger had nearly hewn off the left leg

of his enemy; and, grappled with in the act, had, while they rolled

together on the earth, found for his dagger a passage betwixt the

gorget and cuirass of the giant, and stabbed him mortally in the

throat. The blood from the giant’s throat was yet pouring over the hand

of his foe, which still grasped the hilt of the dagger sheathed in the

wound. They lay silent. I, the least worthy, remained the sole survivor

in the lists.

As I stood exhausted amidst the dead, after the first worthy deed of my

life, I suddenly looked behind me, and there lay the Shadow, black in

the sunshine. I went into the lonely tower, and there lay the useless

armour of the noble youths—supine as they.

Ah, how sad it looked! It was a glorious death, but it was death. My

songs could not comfort me now. I was almost ashamed that I was alive,

when they, the true-hearted, were no more. And yet I breathed freer to

think that I had gone through the trial, and had not failed. And

perhaps I may be forgiven, if some feelings of pride arose in my bosom,

when I looked down on the mighty form that lay dead by my hand.

“After all, however,” I said to myself, and my heart sank, “it was only

skill. Your giant was but a blunderer.”

I left the bodies of friends and foes, peaceful enough when the

death-fight was over, and, hastening to the country below, roused the

peasants. They came with shouting and gladness, bringing waggons to

carry the bodies. I resolved to take the princes home to their father,

each as he lay, in the arms of his country’s foe. But first I searched

the giants, and found the keys of their castle, to which I repaired,

followed by a great company of the people. It was a place of wonderful

strength. I released the prisoners, knights and ladies, all in a sad

condition, from the cruelties and neglects of the giants. It humbled me

to see them crowding round me with thanks, when in truth the glorious

brothers, lying dead by their lonely tower, were those to whom the

thanks belonged. I had but aided in carrying out the thought born in

their brain, and uttered in visible form before ever I laid hold

thereupon. Yet I did count myself happy to have been chosen for their

brother in this great deed.

After a few hours spent in refreshing and clothing the prisoners, we

all commenced our journey towards the capital. This was slow at first;

but, as the strength and spirits of the prisoners returned, it became

more rapid; and in three days we reached the palace of the king. As we

entered the city gates, with the huge bulks lying each on a waggon

drawn by horses, and two of them inextricably intertwined with the dead

bodies of their princes, the people raised a shout and then a cry, and

followed in multitudes the solemn procession.

I will not attempt to describe the behaviour of the grand old king. Joy

and pride in his sons overcame his sorrow at their loss. On me he

heaped every kindness that heart could devise or hand execute. He used

to sit and question me, night after night, about everything that was in

any way connected with them and their preparations. Our mode of life,

and relation to each other, during the time we spent together, was a

constant theme. He entered into the minutest details of the

construction of the armour, even to a peculiar mode of riveting some of

the plates, with unwearying interest. This armour I had intended to beg

of the king, as my sole memorials of the contest; but, when I saw the

delight he took in contemplating it, and the consolation it appeared to

afford him in his sorrow, I could not ask for it; but, at his request,

left my own, weapons and all, to be joined with theirs in a trophy,

erected in the grand square of the palace. The king, with gorgeous

ceremony, dubbed me knight with his own old hand, in which trembled the

sword of his youth.

During the short time I remained, my company was, naturally, much

courted by the young nobles. I was in a constant round of gaiety and

diversion, notwithstanding that the court was in mourning. For the

country was so rejoiced at the death of the giants, and so many of

their lost friends had been restored to the nobility and men of wealth,

that the gladness surpassed the grief. “Ye have indeed left your lives

to your people, my great brothers!” I said.

But I was ever and ever haunted by the old shadow, which I had not seen

all the time that I was at work in the tower. Even in the society of

the ladies of the court, who seemed to think it only their duty to make

my stay there as pleasant to me as possible, I could not help being

conscious of its presence, although it might not be annoying me at the

time. At length, somewhat weary of uninterrupted pleasure, and nowise

strengthened thereby, either in body or mind, I put on a splendid suit

of armour of steel inlaid with silver, which the old king had given me,

and, mounting the horse on which it had been brought to me, took my

leave of the palace, to visit the distant city in which the lady dwelt,

whom the elder prince had loved. I anticipated a sore task, in

conveying to her the news of his glorious fate: but this trial was

spared me, in a manner as strange as anything that had happened to me

in Fairy Land.