A Sea Queen's Sailing by Charles Whistler

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Chapter 9: The Isle Of Hermits.

As may be supposed, we were worn out, and the warmth may have made
us drowsy. The roar of the sea, and the singing of the wind in the
stiff grass of the sand hills was in our ears, unnoticed, and we
had made up our minds that there was no man on the island and that
we need fear no meddling with the ship until the sea calmed, and
men might come from the mainland to see what they could take from
the wreck. Presently we ourselves would get what was worth aught to
us and hide it here.

So it came to pass that when from out of the hills round us came a
small, rough brown dog which barked wildly at us, we leapt to our
feet with our hands on our swords as if Heidrek himself had come.
But no man came with him, and suddenly he turned and fled as if he
had heard a call. I was about to follow him to the top of the sand
hill to see what his coming meant, when the pebbles rattled on the
near beach, and I halted. There were sounds as of a bare foot among
them.

Into the little cleft between the dunes, out of which we looked
over the sea, came a short man, dressed in a long, brown robe which
was girt to him with a cord, and had a hood which framed his
pleasant, red face. Black-haired and gray-eyed he was, and his
hands were those of one who works hard in the fields. There was a
carved, black wooden cross on the end of his cord girdle, and a
string of beads hung from it. At his heels was the brown dog, and
in his hand a long, shepherd's crook.

He came carelessly into the opening, looking from side to side as
he walked as if seeking the men he knew must be shipwrecked, and
stayed suddenly when he came on us. His face paled, and he half
started back, as if he was terrified. Then he recovered himself,
looked once more, started anew, and fairly turned and ran, the dog
leaping and barking round him. After him went Dalfin, laughing.

"Father," he cried in his own tongue, "father! Stay--we are
Irish--at least some of us are. I am. We are friends."

The man stopped at that and turned round, and without more ado
Dalfin the Prince unhelmed and bent his knee before him, saying
something which I did not catch. Whereon the man lifted his hand
and made the sign of the Cross over him, repeating some words in a
tongue which was strange to me. I could not catch them.

Dalfin rose up and called to me, and I went toward them, leaving
Gerda and Bertric to wait for what might happen.

"This is Malcolm of Caithness, a good Scot," said he.

"Malcolm, we are in luck again, for it seems that we have fallen
into the hands of some good fathers, which is more than I expected,
for I never heard that there was a monastery here."

I made some answer in the Gaelic, more for the comfort of the Irish
stranger than for the sense of what I spoke. And as he heard he
smiled and did as he had done to Dalfin, signing and saying words I
could not understand. I had no doubt that it was a welcome, so I
bowed, and he smiled at me.

"I was sorely terrified, my sons," he said. "I thought you some of
these heathen Danes--or Norse men, rather, from your arms. But I
pray you do not think that I fled from martyrdom."

"You fled from somewhat, father," said Dalfin dryly; "what was it?"

The father pointed and smiled uneasily.

"My son," he said slowly, "I came to this place to be free from the
sight of--of aught but holy men. If there were none but men among
you, even were you the Lochlann I took you for--and small wonder
that I did--I had not fled. By no means."

"Why," said Dalfin, with a great laugh, "it must be Gerda whom he
fears! Nay, father, the lady is all kindness, and you need fear her
not at all."

"I may not look on the face of a lady," said the father solemnly.

"Well, you have done it unawares, and so you may as well make the
best of it, as I think," answered Dalfin. "But, without jesting,
the poor lady is in sore need of shelter and hospitality, and I
think you cannot refuse that. Will you not take us to the
monastery?"

"Monastery, my son? There is none here."

"Why, then, whence come you? Are you weather bound here also?"

"Aye, by the storms of the world, my son. We are what men call
hermits."

Dalfin looked at me with a rueful face when he heard that. What a
hermit might be I did not at all know, and it meant nothing to me.
I was glad enough to think that there was a roof of any sort for
Gerda.

"Why, father," said my comrade, "you do not sleep on the bare
ground, surely?"

"Not at all, my son. There are six of us, and each has his cell."

"Cannot you find shelter for one shipwrecked lady? It will not be
for long, as we will go hence with the first chance. We have our
boats."

Now all this while the hermit had his eye on Dalfin's splendid
torque, and at last he spoke of it, hesitatingly.

"My son, it is not good for a man to show idle curiosity--but it is
no foolish question if I ask who you are that you wear the torque
of the O'Neills which was lost."

"I am Dalfin of Maghera, father. The torque has come back to me,
for Dubhtach is avenged."

At that the hermit gave somewhat like a smothered shout, and his
stately way fell from him altogether. He went on his knee before
Dalfin, and seized his hand and kissed it again and again, crying
words of welcome.

"My prince, my prince," he said, with tears of joy running down his
cheeks. "It was told me that you had gone across the seas--but I
did not know it was for this."

Dalfin reddened, and raised the hermit from the sand.

"Father," he said quickly, "I am not the avenger. It is a long
tale--but the lady, who is a queen in Norway, shipwrecked with us
here by a strange fate, has to do with the winning back of the
torque."

"A queen!" said the hermit quickly. "Then the rule of which I spoke
must needs be broken; nay, not broken, but set aside. Now, where
are your men?"

"Never a man have we. There is Malcolm here, and Bertric, a Saxon
thane, who is my friend also and a good Christian, and the poor
young queen, and no more."

The hermit threw up his hands.

"All drowned!" he cried. "Alack, alack! May their souls rest in
peace!"

"We sailed without them, father. There were none, and so they are
all safe at home."

"Good luck to them--for if they had been here they were drowned,
every man of them," said the hermit with much content, looking at
me with some wonder when I laughed.

"They would not be the first by many a score whom we have buried
here," he said in reproof. "Aye, heathen Lochlann and Christian
Scot, and homely Erse yonder. It is good to see even a few who have
escaped from this shore."

He bowed his head for a moment, and his lips moved. Then he turned
to Dalfin as a councillor might turn to his prince, and asked what
he would have the brothers do for him.

"Come and ask the lady," answered Dalfin, and so we went to the
fire, where Gerda and Bertric rose up to meet us.

Now the hermit had set aside his fear of the lady, if he had any
beyond his rules, and welcomed her in Erse, which I had to
translate. Also he told her that what shelter he and his brethren
could give was hers, if she would be content with poor housing.

"Thank him, and tell him that any roof will be welcome after the
ship's deck," she said, smiling at the hermit.

"Ask him to send men and help us get our stores ashore and out of
the way of the fisher folk, who will be here as soon as they see
the wreck," said Bertric. "No need to tell him that the stores are
treasure for the most part."

"Tell him it is treasure, and it will be all the safer," Dalfin
said. "These are holy monks, of a sort who care for poverty more
than wealth. This man was well born, as you may guess from his
speech."

I told the hermit what Bertric needed, and he laughed, saying that
the whole brotherhood would come and help at once. And then he bade
us follow him. We went across the moorland for about half a mile,
to the foot of the hill or nearly, and then came on a little valley
amid the rising ground, where trees grew, low and wind twisted, but
green and pleasant; and there I saw a cluster of little stone huts
for all the world like straw beehives, built of stones most
cunningly, mortarless, but fitting into one another perfectly.

The huts were set in a rough circle, and each had its door toward
the sun, and a little square window alongside that, and a
smoke-blackened hole in the top of the roof. Doubtless it was from
one of these that Bertric had seen the smoke from the sea, though
there was none now. From the hill and down the valley across the
space between the huts ran a little brook, crossed in two or three
places by wandering paths, some with a stepping stone, and others
with only a muddy jumping place. The stream was dammed into a deep,
stone-walled pool in the midst of the space, and close to the brink
of this stood a tall, black stone cross, which was carved most
wonderfully with interlacing patterns, and had a circle round its
arms.

We saw no men at first. Pigs there were, fat and contented, which
rooted idly or wallowed along the stream, and fowls strolled among
the huts. I saw one peer into an open door, raise one claw slowly
as if she was going in, and then turn and fly, cackling wildly, as
if some inmate had thrown something at her.

"That is brother Fergus," said our guide. "The more he throws
things at the hens, the more they pester him. It is half a loaf
this time. See."

The hen had gone back into the doorway in a hurry, and now retired
behind the hut with the bread, to be joined there by hurrying
friends.

"The pigs will come in a minute," our hermit said, chuckling and
rubbing his hands together. "They know that Fergus hurls what comes
first without heed of what it may be."

He half stayed to watch, and then remembered that he was not alone
or with some of his brethren. We had been silent as we came, and he
had gone before us with the dog in front of him, musing. I think
that he had forgotten us.

"Pardon, prince," he said. "Year in and year out in this place we
have naught but these little haps to lighten our thoughts. We watch
for them, and are disappointed if we miss them. Ah, well, tonight
at least we shall have somewhat more wonderful of which to talk. I
only pray that you, with your breath of the outer world--warfare
and wreck, victory and vengeance--may not leave us unsettled."

He sighed, and turned back to the way once more with bent head. He
seemed a young man to be in this desolate place of his own free
will, for his black beard and hair were hardly grizzled with the
passing years yet.

There was a low wall round the gathering of huts, the gate being
closed with a wattled hurdle, lest the pigs should wander. Here the
hermit stopped, and before he opened the gate lifted his voice and
cried loudly in the tongue which I did not know.

There was a stir then in the peaceful enclosure. Out of the huts
came in all haste men clad like our guide, speaking to one another
fast, with eager faces and gestures. At that time I counted nine
huts, and thought that we need turn out none of these strange hosts
of ours.

P Again our hermit cried out, for the rest did not come to meet us.
I saw Dalfin smiling, and asked what it all meant in a low voice.

"I have more than half forgotten the little Latin they taught me at
Monasterboice long ago," he answered; "but he is telling them that
here we have not a lady merely, but a queen. It is the first
trouble again."

Now the brethren consulted, still standing in the hut doors, and at
last, being thereto exhorted once more by our friend, they came
toward us slowly, as if wishing to show that they had no longing
for things outside their island cares. Five out of these six were
old men, our guide being the youngest, and two of them were very
old, with long, white beards. One of these two came forward as they
neared us, and spoke for the rest, greeting Dalfin first, as their
prince, with all respect, though not at all in the humble way in
which he had first been hailed.

"It is our good fortune," he said, "that we are able to shelter
you. It has been our sorrow that up till this time those strangers
who have come from the sea have needed nothing from us but the last
rites. We are all unused to guests, and you will forgive us if we
know not how to treat them rightly. But what we can do we will."

He waved his hands toward the huts, and said no more. Dalfin
thanked him, and after he had heard, he paid no more heed to us,
but turned to our guide.

"Brother Phelim," he said wearily, "see you to all that may be
done. The care must be yours, as was the first welcome. I do not
know why you wandered so far at this hour."

"Because I thought there might be poor folk in need, father," said
Phelim meekly. "Moreover, I am shepherd today."

The old man waved his hand as if to say that the excuse was enough,
and with that turned and went his way, leaning on the arm of the
other ancient brother, the three who had stood behind them making
way reverently.

"He is our superior," whispered Phelim. "He has been here for forty
years. He will forget that he has seen you presently. Now, come,
and we will see how we may best bestow you."

"Concerning what is on board the ship," said Bertric, staying him.
"It is needful that we get it ashore before the tide turns. It is
but half an hour's hard work, at the most, if you folk help."

Phelim stared, for Bertric spoke in the Dansk tongue we had been
using. I had to translate for him, and Phelim nodded.

"Tell the sea captain that all will be well. We will return at
once. We do but find a house for the queen."

So we went on to the central green amid the huts, and there stood
and looked round, while Phelim and Fergus deliberated for a time.
It seemed that the pigs had one empty hut, and the fowls another.
The largest was the chapel, and so there was not one vacant. I
think that they each wished for the honour of turning out for us.

"Father Phelim," I said at last, for Bertric waxed impatient, "let
one good brother leave his cell for that of another, leaving it
free for the queen, and then we can shift for ourselves. We do not
at all mind sleeping in the open, for so we have fared for the last
week and more."

But they would not have that, and in the end Phelim himself led
Gerda with much pride to his own cell and handed it over to her,
while another brother left his cell to us three, it being a large
one, which, indeed, is not saying much for the rest. We were likely
to be warm enough in it; but the cells were clean and dry, each
with a bed of heather and a stone table and stool, and some little
store of rough crockery and the like household things. There were
blankets, too, and rugs for hanging across the doors, which seemed
in some abundance. Afterwards, I found that they were washed ashore
from wrecks at different times.

Then we went back to the shore in all haste. I had doubts as to
whether Gerda would care to be left alone in this strange place,
but she laughed, and said that there was naught to fear. The two
old brothers had gone their way to their own cells, and would not
come forth again till vesper time, as Phelim told us. She had the
little village, if one may call it so, to herself, therefore, till
we returned. But Phelim set his crook against the hut wall as he
went.

"The pigs need a stick at times," he said; "it may be handy."

The tide had ebbed far when we reached the place of the wreck
again, and had bared a long, black reef, which, with never an
opening in it, reached as far as we could see along the shore. It
was only the chance of the high spring tide, driven yet higher than
its wont by the wind on the shore, which had suffered us to clear
it. It was that which we touched slightly as we came in among the
first breakers. We had had a narrow escape.

In an hour we had all that was worth taking ashore saved. The
chests of arms, and those of the bales which the sea had not
reached, and the chest of silver, were all on the beach, and we got
the larger of the two boats over the side, and ran her up into
safety, with her fittings. And then, for there was yet time, Dalfin
would have us save the wonderful carved wagon which was on the deck
unhurt, and that, too, we took ashore, and with it some of the
casks of food stores which had been so lavishly stored for that
strange voyage. We should not burden the good brothers with this to
help feed us.

For the sea was coming in more heavily still as it gathered weight
with the long gale, which was still blowing hard. It was more than
likely that the ship would go to pieces in the night as the tide
rose again. Now and then the rain squalls came up and drenched us,
and passed; but the brothers cared as little for them as did we,
and enjoyed the unusual work more. It was a wonder to them to see
their young prince working as hard as themselves as we carried the
heavy things up the beach.

"It is a matter which I have learned while on my travels," he said,
when Fergus said somewhat of the sort to him gently. "I have seen
these two friends, who are nobles in their own lands, work as hard
at oar and rope's end as they would at fighting. Moreover, it is
well to do things for myself now and then--as, for instance,
swimming."

Now we loaded the wagon, which was easy to put together, and the
brethren harnessed themselves to it, laughing. They would not
suffer us to help, and we had to walk behind the wagon in a sort of
idle train, not altogether sorry to rest, for we were very weary by
this time. As for the hermits, they made light of the rough way and
the load, being like schoolboys let loose. I do not suppose that
they had laughed thus for many a long day, and it was good to watch
them.

So we came to the huts, and set down our load. Presently the
brothers would bestow the things under cover, but there was no more
to come. So we did but take Gerda her own chest, and have the court
men's to the hut which had been given us. We bade Phelim, as guest
master, take what he would of the provender as he liked, saying it
was theirs altogether; and he thanked us simply, more for our own
sake than theirs, as I know. They would not let us go back to the
shore for the next load.

"Bide and rest," said Fergus; "this is a holiday for us, and we
enjoy it. We shall talk of it all for many a long day; but for you
it is but an added and needless weariness."

So, nothing loath, we sat on the stone blocks which were set for
seats outside Gerda's hut, and watched them go with the wagon.
Presently Gerda came and asked for a little help, and I went and
moved her chest for her, and hung a heavy curtain, which I have no
doubt was a wrecked boat's sail once, to its stone pegs across the
door. They had lit a fire for her at the first, and the cell was
comfortable altogether.

"Now I shall rest," she said. "By and by, no doubt, you will bring
me supper, but it is strange not to feel the tossing of the ship.
It is wonderful to be warm and in safety once more. You have been
very good to me."

But I thought of her patience and cheerfulness through the
countless discomforts and dangers of the voyage, and knew that the
praise was hers.

"We have said truly that you are a sea-king's daughter indeed, my
queen," I answered. "It is enough to hear you say that we are not
useless courtmen."

We three went to our hut and took off our mail, and found dry
clothing in the chest, with many thanks to the careful half-dozen
warriors who had kept their best therein. Then in much comfort we
saw to our arms, red with the sea rust, and hung them round the
cell, which was some nine feet across and about the same height,
and by the time that pleasant work was done the brothers were back,
and the little bell on the chapel, where it hung in a stone cote,
rang for their vespers.

They bade us come also, and Bertric and Dalfin rose up and went
gladly. I had no thought that I could be welcome, and was staying,
but Phelim called me.

"Malcolm is a Norse Scot," said Dalfin quietly. "He is not of our
faith, and I do not know if he may come.

"If he will, he may," answered the hermit kindly. "He can be no
evil heathen, seeing that he is your friend."

So, not wishing to seem ungracious, I followed them into the
chapel, which was stone built after the same manner as the cells,
but with a ridge roof instead of the rounded top, and much larger,
being about fifteen feet long and ten wide. Over the door was a
cross of white stones set in the wall, and at the eastern end was a
cross also, and an altar, on which were candles of wax, at which I
wondered, seeing them in this place. Round the walls ran a stone
slab as bench, but I was the only one who used it. The others
knelt, facing eastward, and I, at a sign from Bertric, sat by the
door, wondering what I should see and hear.

There was enough for me to wonder at. I heard them pray, and I
heard them sing, and whether of prayer or song the words were good
to listen to. I heard them pray for the safety of men at sea in the
gale, and for men who fought with the Danes ashore. They prayed
that the hands of the Danes who slew their brethren in the churches
round the coast wantonly might be stayed from these doings; but
they did not pray for the destruction of these terrible foes. They
asked that they might be forgiven for the wrong they did to
harmless men. And I heard them read from a book whose leaves, as
the reader turned them, I saw were bright with gold and colours,
words that I cannot set down--words of uttermost peace in the midst
of strife. I had never heard or thought the like. I did not know
that it could be in the minds of men so to speak and write. I
thought that I would ask Phelim more concerning it at some time if
I had the chance.

The brethren rose up with still faces and happy, and the vespers
were over. We went out into the wind again, and across to the cell
they had given us, and there they gave us a supper of barley bread
and milk, setting aside some for Gerda in a beautiful silver bowl,
which Phelim said had come from the shore after a wreck long ago.

Now, we three had some thought that one of us had better watch
through the night, if only for Gerda's comfort. But Phelim heard us
speak thereof, and laughed.

"My sons," he said, "there is naught to watch against in all this
little island, save only the ghostly foe, against whom your arms
were of no avail. Nay, do you sleep in peace. All the night long we
watch in turns in the chapel, and will wake you, if by some strange
chance there is need."

"What do you watch against then, father?" I asked, somewhat idly.
"Wolves round your folds?"

"Aye," he answered; "the wolf of all wolves."

"Ah, the wolf will come from the mainland, betimes, I suppose."

"Most of all we fear him thence," Phelim answered, with a quaint
smile. "Nay, my son, it is no earthly wolf we watch against.
Hereafter you may learn, or the prince will tell you even now, if
you will. Rest in peace."

He lifted his hand and blessed us, even as he had done when he met
us on the shore, and left us. They had brought fresh heather for
our bedding while we ate, and blankets, and though the light still
lingered in the west, we did not wait for darkness. We slept, as
shipwrecked men will sleep, when at last others watch for them.

Chapter 10: Planning And Learning.

Twelve good hours I slept that night without stirring, and woke
feeling like a new man and fit for aught. The first thing I noticed
was the strange calm which brooded over all things, for the wind
had gone down, and the long, steady roar of the surf was far off
and all unlike the ceaseless rush and countless noises of the
labouring ship at sea. There came a little drone of chanting from
the chapel a hundred yards away, and there was now and again the
bleat of a sheep, and the homely crow of the cocks, sounding as if
shut up somewhere still. For a time I stayed, enjoying the unwonted
calm, and then the sunlight crept into the little window, and I
rose, and went out. My two comrades still slept.

It was a wonderful morning after the storm. The coast of the
mainland across the narrow strait seemed close at hand, piled with
great, soft, green mountains above the black cliffs, tier after
tier of them stretching inland as far as the eye could see. In the
valleys between them nestled forests, dark and deep, and in one
place I saw the thin lines of smoke rising, which told of houses.
The hill which made the best part of this island barred my view to
the westward, but it was not high enough to hide the mountain tops
on the mainland altogether. There was a fire lighted on it this
morning as if it might be a beacon. I minded that Phelim had said
that they would call the fishers from the mainland to come over for
us when they might venture, and I supposed that this was their
signal.

I looked across, past the tall, black cross to where Gerda's hut
stood, and it was as I had last seen it. The folds of the curtain
at the door had not been moved, and Phelim's crook stood where he
set it. The pigs were shut up somewhere even yet. Then the bell on
the roof of the little chapel rang once or twice, and I went near.
But this morning there was a closed door before me, the only door
in all the place. I know now that it was the hour of the morning
mass, but wondered at the time why the door was closed and why the
bell rang.

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