William H. Babcock - Cian of the Chariots - Chapter XXXI: The Token of Oisin and the March to London lyrics

CHAPTER XXXI. THE TOKEN OF OISIN AND THE MARCH TO LONDON. Arthur bore the image of the holy Virgin, Mother of God. – NENNIUS. ARTHUR, mindful of London's danger, and its people's aid in that great wood-fight, left himself no rest in hastening thither. Guinevere had but one loving hour with him at Legiolum, although using her most enthralling wiles, in jealous fear of that stately queen for whom such prowess was to be expended. She could not even take heart at the thought of Lancelot coming; for he too, though yet sore with wounds, held southward, seeking new battles. Caradoc, who had fared very ill in that slaughter, was to rest there, and to rule. But a halting and growling uncle, though soon to mend, was not the guardian most eagerly to be chosen by the luxuriant Guinevere. She pitied herself many times before it was held quite safe for her to take the southward way. Arthur's great army was gazed on breathlessly, as it went, for such awful destruction had not been heard of in living memory. The loss was plain, many ranks being thinned wofully, and the marks of bat- [Page 293] tle showed everywhere; but all looked on them as men predestined to conquer. They followed their rapid leader as with wings, Constantine, anxious for Aurelia, doing his best thrice over in smoothing all difficulties away. London-town still held out, but nearly all other news was ill. Scarcely anything stirred Arthur so bitterly as the storming of the lake-village, the d**h of Osburn in a futile effort to save it, and the total vanishing of its enthusiastic pastor. Yet none gave him up for lost altogether; for a man with good marsh guidance might lie hidden a long time thereabout, beyond all finding by Saxons. So in truth it proved; for news of the Emperor's march in some way brought him forth, carried by four men on a litter, with the stain and rankness of the swamp still on him. Thinner and more bird-like he was than ever, with fingers withered and shrunken to mere talons, fever-flushed in the face and fever-shaken, his breath coming at first in gasps of thankfulness for free air, his eyes deepening intensely. He bade the bearers put him down at the place of first meeting an officer of that army. "It is for Arthur Mabuter to come hither," said he. "A greater Monarch, by me, his voice among the men of Britain, soon returning to that heavenly sender, summons him, awaits him." His voice was preternaturally calm, and his eyes gazed into the [Page 294] blue above him as if for vision of his home soon to be. The victor of Celidon heard, and came still more rapidly. This triumph had bred in him an exaltation in unison with that of this martyred enthusiast. Formerly Oisin had seemed to him a pathetic figure, admirable in some ways, yet extravagant, ungovernable, dangerous. Now he was prepared to humble himself, and take the dying man's words as indeed a message from on high. The measured utterance of the sufferer affected him like a shock. "We are bidden to number our days," began Oisin. "Minutes are days for me now, and I have numbered them; also my words, fitting each to each. Be silent all; there is not one to spare. "Arthur, Emperor of Britain, this is my burden to you from the Most High: 'Tear thou the head of Vran from the White Hill of his enchantment.' "And this is the reason thereof: he hath put palsy into British veins. He hath poisoned the cause of Christ with his necromancy. He hath given over London-town to the curse of selfishness, while the ravagers were all abroad in the outer lands. "They came against us once, twice, three times, and yet a fourth; and while we fought, we called on God and man for aid. At first Cian came against them, and then Osburn, and then both together; but each time those were fewer who would follow; [Page 295] and at the fourth, Osburn went down under many Saxons. Then, for all that we could do, the people of God were slain, old and young together, in their homes and about their altar, unmercifully; so that only a few escaped with me into the outer noisomeness, where we have dwelt until now like foul spirits of the waste. Yet even there have we heard the cry go up to Vran and the gods of Vran, from the White Hill of Cynvelyn, exulting. "I adjure you, Arthur Mabuter, as you value salvation, make no compact, no truce, with the works of darkness. For the Christian soldier there is only the cross of his suffering Redeemer and the holy countenance of the Mother of God, not the buried and evil-luminous head of old wickedness." Arthur bowed his head profoundly, saying, "Even so, Oisin." There was great pity in his eyes, but something hotter and darker behind it. Oisin lay back easy of mind. He said no more, only once to ask for water; and once he made motion toward his breast. There, moving the mantle, was found a cameo of clear creamy stone, hanging locket-wise, the pure face of Mary, Christ's mother. When Arthur took this reverently, the dying man smiled, and pointed to the shield he bore. Arthur gave promise by word and sign that it should be set there, guarding and guarded. The dying man was still again until the last spasm took him. Thus [Page 296] pa**ed Oisin the evangelist into the light or the shadow. The token was indeed a marvellous thing, nor could any one tell the land or time wherein it was made. Arthur, all the more for this mystery, held it high above aught else that God or man had given him. So the best of his armorers and cunning workers in precious things were called, and given charge to set it in the central boss of the shield, with a bright encircling wreath, j**elled and golden. Swiftly they wrought, with his more than human eagerness ever beside them, waiting while some part of the army went by. At the last sunset of their march, Arthur the Emperor, with glad, solemn eyes, held it tilted into the wonder and richness of that glory, and said, "It is well." After all had supped and rested a while, he sent his word abroad and took the lead; and the whole army, wakening limb by limb from its ease, came after him, at first sluggishly, then vehemently, with a great hum, pa**ing quickly into silence. A long night-speeding it was; the footmen striding after the horses, and well nigh keeping pace mile for mile, a dim, multitudinous tossing of spears and javelins and armor-gleams, with a world of doubtful features and forms under the half-clouded starlight. Silently as they went, some whisper, like the leaves in the night-wind, kept on before, so that all the [Page 297] phantom-like enemies between them and the north wall of the city drew away. When Eschwine, from the banks of the Lea near its mouth, looked northward toward the Hampstead hills, it was not the presence of armed enemies that widened his eyes, but rather their multitude, which was like a miracle, to have appeared so soon. Among them he could see well the spoil of the Cyllalaur and his Saxons, – mail and standards and weapons of cunning ornament. Well before the array, from among the ruins of the villa of Constantine, floated the dragon banner of the great Arthur, imperial token of supremacy throughout Britain. Then he smiled very grimly, hiding discomfiture, and bade his men to the river and beyond, where were the Kent-folk armaments on the Southwark marshes and fields. There being boats in plenty, all were over before harm came of their severance. Truly when the Saxons were thus together the host of them at second view was not less but even greater (being infantry standing close) than that of their enemy. Notwithstanding, they had no longer any hope of London for a prey. Some quaint humor moved Eschwine to send that morning an emba**y to Arthur, in solemn form, with many titles and compliments, desiring that he would withdraw his goodly display of riders from that useful battlefield between the armies of Kent and Ess** [Page 298] and London, it being a contention which in no way concerned the other island peoples. Arthur heard as one who hears not; then made answer, "Tell your king, Eschwine, and his confederates, that I will have no treaty with them nor any manner of parley. Tell him that he is forsworn; that he has forfeited both life and soul. Tell him I would I could smite the one, as I verily, and that soon, shall smite out of existence the other." He bade them be entertained and restored to their own people. His army spread itself over all the land as far as the riverside, while he rode in through the Ermine gate, with his imperial guard of thrice three hundred champions, the best legion of infantry following spear in hand.