Accordingly the two went towards the hut, with pluck and misgiving contending for the mastery.

"Perchance the witch may have returned while we slept," said the sub in a low voice.

"Or she may have re-entered the hut invisibly--as she did at first,"

replied the other.

The door was found to be on the latch. The lieutenant opened it a little and peeped in.

"Ho! Cormac!" he shouted; "hi! ho! hooroo hooh!" but he shouted in vain.

Becoming accustomed to the dim light, he perceived that there was no one within to answer to the call, so he suddenly sprang in, followed by the sub and a few of the more daring spirits among the men.

A hasty search revealed the fact that the lad was not to be seen. A more minute and thorough inspection showed clearly that no one was there. They did not, of course, discover the cave, for the plank had been removed, but they gazed solemnly into the depths of the dark chasm and wondered if poor Cormac had committed suicide there, or if the witch had murdered him and thrown him in. Having neither rope nor ladder, and the chasm appearing to be bottomless, they had no means of settling the question.

But now a point of far greater moment pressed on their consideration.

What was to be said to King Hudibras about the disappearance of the lad?

Would he believe them? It was not likely. And, on the other hand, what would Gadarn say? Would _he_ believe them? He might, indeed, for he knew them to be faithful, but that would not mitigate his wrath, and when he was roused by neglected duty they knew too well that their lives would hang on a thread. What was to be done? To go forward or backward seemed to involve death! One only resource was left, namely, for the whole band to go off on its own account and take to the woods as independent robbers--or hunters--or both combined.

In an unenviable frame of mind the lieutenant and his sub sat down to the discussion of these knotty points and their mid-day meal.

Meanwhile the witch, who had been the occasion of all this distress, having got out of sight in the woods, a.s.sumed a very upright gait and stepped out with a degree of bounding elasticity that would have done credit to a girl of nineteen.

The sun was just rising in a flood of glorious light when she entered the suburbs of King Hudibras' town--having previously resumed her stoop and hobbling gait.

The king was lazy. He was still a-bed snoring. But the household was up and at breakfast, when the witch--pa.s.sing the guards who looked upon her as too contemptible to question--knocked at the palace door. It was the back-door, for even at that time palaces had such convenient apertures, for purposes, no doubt, of undignified retreat. A menial answered the knock--after wearisome delay.

"Is the Princess Hafrydda within?"

"She is," answered the menial, with a supercilious look, "but she is at breakfast, and does not see poor people at such an hour."

"Would she see rich people if they were to call at such an hour?"

demanded the witch, sharply.

"Per--perhaps she would," replied the menial with some hesitation.

"Then I'll wait here till she has finished breakfast. Is the king up?"

"N-no. He still slumbers."

"Hah! Like him! He was always lazy in the mornings. Go fetch me a stool."

The manner of the old woman with her magnificent dark eyes and deep metallic voice, and her evident knowledge of the king's habits, were too much for the menial--a chord of superst.i.tion had been touched; it vibrated, and he was quelled. Humbly but quickly he fetched a stool.

"Won't you step in?" he said.

"No, I'll stop out!" she replied, and sat herself doggedly down, with the air of one who had resolved never more to go away.

Meanwhile, in the breakfast room of the palace, which was on the ground floor--indeed, all the rooms of the palace were on the ground floor, for there was no upper one--the queen and her fair daughter Hafrydda were entertaining a stranger who had arrived the day before.

He was an exceedingly handsome man of about six-and-twenty; moderately tall and strong, but with an air of graceful activity in all his movements that gave people, somehow, the belief that whatever he chose to attempt he could do. Both his olive complexion and his tongue betokened him a foreigner, for although the language he spoke was Albionic, it was what we now style broken--very much broken indeed.

With a small head, short curly black hair, a very young beard, and small pointed moustache, fine intellectual features, and an expression of imperturbable good-humour, he presented an appearance which might have claimed the regard of any woman. At all events the queen had formed a very high opinion of him--and she was a woman of much experience, having seen many men in her day. Hafrydda, though, of course, not so experienced, fully equalled her mother, if she did not excel her, in her estimate of the young stranger.

As we should be unintelligible if we gave the youth's words in the broken dialect, we must render his speech in fair English.

"I cannot tell how deeply I am grieved to hear this dreadful news of my dear friend," he said, with a look of profound sorrow that went home to the mother's heart.

"And did you really come to this land for the sole purpose of seeing my dear boy?" asked the queen.

"I did. You cannot imagine how much we loved each other. We were thrown together daily--almost hourly. We studied together; we competed when I was preparing for the Olympic games; we travelled in Egypt and hunted together. Indeed, if it had not been for my dear old mother, we should have travelled to this land in the same ship."

"Your mother did not wish you to leave her, I suppose?"

"Nay, it was I who would not leave _her_. Her unselfish nature would have induced her to make any sacrifice to please me. It was only when she died that my heart turned with unusual longing to my old companion Bladud, and I made up my mind to quit home and traverse the great sea in search of him."

A grateful look shot from Hafrydda's blue eyes, but it was lost on the youth, who sat gazing at the floor as if engrossed with his great disappointment.

"I cannot understand," he continued, in an almost reproachful tone, "how you could ever make up your minds to banish him, no matter how deadly the disease that had smitten him."

The princess's fair face flushed deeply, and she shook back her golden curls--her eyes flashing as she replied--

"We did not `make up our minds to banish him.' The warriors and people would have compelled us to do it whether we liked or not, for they have heard, alas! of the terrible nature of the disease. But the dear boy, knowing this, went off in the night unknown to us, and without even saying farewell. We have sent out parties to search for him several times, but without success."

The youth was evidently affected by this burst of feeling.

"Ah," he returned, with a look of admiration at the princess, "that was like him--like his n.o.ble, self-denying nature. But I will find him out, you may depend on it, for I shall search the land in all directions till I discover his retreat. If King Hudibras will grant me a few men to help me--well. If not, I will do it by myself."

"Thank you, good Dromas, for your purpose and your sympathy," said the queen. "The king will be only too glad to help you--but here he comes to speak for himself."

The curtain door was tossed aside at the moment, and Hudibras strode into the room with a beaming smile and a rolling gait that told of redundant health, and showed that the cares of state sat lightly on him.

"Welcome, good Dromas, to our board. I was too sleepy to see much of you after your arrival last night. Mine eyes blinked like those of an owl. Kiss me, wife and daughter," he added, giving the ladies a salute that resounded through the room. "Have they told you yet about our poor son Bladud?"

The visitor had not time to reply, when a domestic appeared and said there was an old woman at the door who would not go away.

"Give her some cakes and send her off!" cried the king with a frown.

"But she will not go till she has had converse with the princess."

"I will go to her," said Hafrydda, rising.

"Ay, go, my girl, and if thy sweet tongue fails to prevail, stuff her mouth with meat and drink till she is too stout to walk. Come, my queen, what have we this morning for breakfast? The very talking of meat makes me hungry."

At this juncture several dogs burst into the room and gambolled with their royal master, as with one who is a familiar friend.

When the princess reached the outer door she found the woman standing, and evidently in a rage.

"Is this the way King Hudibras teaches his varlets to behave to poor people who are better than themselves?"

"Forgive them, granny," said the princess, who was inclined to laugh, but strove to keep her gravity, "they are but stupid rogues at worst."