tale this boy tells;
I feel no fear of the phantoms he spoke of.
I'll fare, then, forth to face the shield-ship.
Let all who have courage come to my outing
And watch as I drive the dream-foes away!
If, facing the foe, I fail in the onset,
Let the woman I've won be the wife of the man
Who bears the battle Bearheart took wing from!"
Awed by his outburst, all fell silent
Till the bard shot back at Bearheart's speech.
"Your words are worthy of a warrior's will.
Now, speak with your spear as you speed from the table
To be bold in battle! This bard will follow."
The priest gave praise to his prowess as well,
And, to heap the praise high, the holder hastened
To add his own, urging bold Bearheart
To be in battle the bane of his foes,
The fiends he'd face, whether phantom or flesh.
The warrior welcomed their words with a smile.
Bolting his mead, he bade the maiden
Hasten to hand him his helmet and shield,
His spear and sword. Speechless and sullen,
She bound on his weapons. Wesle's blood boiled.
"May our prayers aid your prowess," the priest interjected.
"Before you go forth, confession is proper --"
"Your words are wise," the warrior told him,
"But I'd see my assailant ere I say how I've sinned.
Let conflict come! I call you to witness
The deeds of daring I'll do by moonlight."
Forth, Bearheart fared. The feasters followed
In file at his feet, their faith in the hero.
Even Bright, Wesle saw, his breast filled with sorrow,
Now eyed him with favor, the fearless in onset.
He flung the door wide that Wesle, in fleeing,
Had shut from his shaking. The shining streamed in.
All stopped and stood, staring and trembling,
Hearing the howling, the hideous clamor
That broke like breakers through the breach of the doorway.
The hero, too, halted, held by his awe
Till Wesle spoke words that wounded his pride.
"Behold our.defender, helpless to face
What this witless herdsman -- yes, Wesle the Hopeless! --
Saw first from this doorway, yet dared seek further.
If he falters in fear of forms in the mist,
He'll surely cower from the caster of shadows."
Bearheart bellowed a beastly growl
And ran from the room towards his radiant test.
His griever, now grinning, grabbed fair Bright's hand
And haled her behind him in the hero's wake.
With the groaning of creatures now mingled the cries
(As Wesle had warned them) of wonder and fear
From that shaken assembly as all saw with their own eyes
The shining shield-thing, showing its glory,
And its silvery sailors, suited in armor,
Moving like men in the mist on the moor.
Stunned by the sight, all stood in silence
But the bard and the bookman, who debated in whispers
The whence and the why of what was before them.
"A feat of the fair folk is my faith," said the bard.
The priest made a protest, but proved uncertain
Whether to say that what they saw
Were the angels called seraphs, descended to act out
The vision of wheels within wheels once viewed
By a prophet in exile, the priest Ezekiel,
Or demons who dared try to dupe those who watched them
By hiding their hatred with halos of light.
Fear of what faced her, the figures of silver,
Brought the fair Bright to embrace her cousin.
Wesle wondered at wealth unlooked-for
He'd gained as a gift from the gaudy intruders.
The manor-lord's shout shattered the moment.
"We're seeing no seraphs. I'm certain of that!
What creatures of light would crave a man's livestock?"
Wesle, amazed, wondered what madness
Had addled his uncle; then his eyes saw, too,
The wrong that had roused the rage of his lord.
Through the mist of the moor, the men of silver
Hastened like herdsmen some heifers before them
Towards the shining shield, the ship that had brought them.
The lay-singing bard burst into laughter.
"Stealers of cattle come from the stars!
None alive would believe such a lay if I sung it."
The manor-lord made a maddened cry.
"No star-men shall steal my stock unpunished --
Not while Bearheart the Bold still bears his swift sword!"
The hero bore ill the eyes that beheld him.
"I fear no fight with foes who are human,
But I'd be a fool to battle with fairies."
Bright, unwinding from Wesle's embrace,
Wielded the weapon of words aimed to wound.
"You're a fool already, so ride to the fairies!
We're weary of words. Let's witness your deeds!"
The death-dealer's face darkened with fury.
"I'll bear the battle," he boasted, enraged.
"I accept the summons. Now, saddle my charger!"
With a motion, the manor-lord commanded Wesle
To see to the service. He set off at once.
The barn was brightened by the baleful light
That crept through cracks in the creaking structure.
Wesle wondered at the wildness of change
The brilliance had brought as it broke its lances
On goods and gear gathered within.
He lingered a little as he looked in a corner
At barrels of pitch to patch the roof with
And at blocks of sulfur, whose scent, when blazing,
Poisoned the hosts of pests in the hall.
The thread of a thought ran through his mind;
Then, a hale of "Hurry!" hastened him on.
He stopped at the stall where the steed was stabled.
It shook and whinnied and showed its eyes' whites
As it battered the boards with its body's lunges,
But, with kind caresses, he calmed its raging.
He set the saddle on the sorrel's back,
And, wrapping the reins around his forearm,
He covered its eyes and called it outside.
He blinked at the blaze of blueness before him
As he heard his hoped-for, beholding him, call:
"Here, our hero, is the horse you've sent for.
The hour is upon you; the onset awaits you.
Streak to the strife and strike down the foe!"
Bearheart the Bold bore with ill patience
His promised one's promptings. "The priest must make
A full absolution ere I fall to the lists.
I'll make no assault while bemired in my sins."
"Will you stay till the star-men steal all our wealth
Ere you rise and ride to rescue it for us?
Can your soul be so soiled with sin that you'll wait
Till the foes feast in fullness ere you face them in battle?
If aware that so wicked a warrior sought me,
I'd have spurned your suit, though, with spite, you slew me --"
"Peace!" he bade her. "I'll buffet the pirates.
Though it cost me my life, I'll kill them at last."
The mighty man mounted his steed
And fixed his face to fight the assailants.
He rose in his stirrups and roared in a strong voice,
"Radiant raiders, your ruin draw
s near.
Your forms will feel the fury of Bearheart.
My spear and my blade will spill your life's blood
And send your souls to sudden avenging."
Having challenged the star-men to withstand his charge,
He set his spear and spurred the horse on.
It shuddered and whirled, and, shivering, whickered
While feast-guests and star-men stared at the fear-dance.
Heated, the hero hauled on the reins
And stirred his steed to a stumbling pace.
Staring, the star-men stood in silence
As if waiting for woe without will to resist it.
Bright drew her breath in at the braveness she witnessed.
Her lover lamented. The lordly deed
Would be the brideprice that would bring her to Bearheart.
Now, the watchers wailed out a warning of danger.
The beams that were bathing the boss of the shield-ship
Made a sudden shift. The shining sought
To blind bold Bearheart with its burning blueness.
The horse reared up, halting the onset.
The blaze was joined by a giant's blast
On a mighty horn, howling out madness.
The horse gave a whinny and wheeled in a gallop
That ruined its rider, who rose from the saddle
And flew through the air in a flight that ended
In the mud of the moor. Mighty, the downfall!
The ones he went to ward from danger
Beheld with horror-filled hearts his stallion,
Racing riderless, run into darkness.
Turning, they told their terror with screams
As they stared at the star-men in a stealthy approach
To the feet of the fallen fighter of Vikings.
Their terror turned into tumult of cheers
As the staunch one, their stalwart, staggered upright
And turned to face his terrible foes.
"Strike with your sword and seal their destruction!"
Bright called to the hero. "Our hope is your braveness."
Their hope proved hopeless. Beholding the onset
Of his radiant rivals, the reaper of Vikings
Turned his back on the harvest and bade his feet hasten
In the steps of the steed like a storm to the hall.
Home was the hero, unhorsed by combat.
The words of his maid were less mild than he wished.
"The boldness of Bearheart! The boasts of a coward!
His tongue has a taste to talk of battle,
But his feet have a feeling to fare from the fray.
Mere bragging's the boldness he'd buy a bride with.
It moves not his mind that a maiden's dowry
Is seized in his sight while he sits in hiding --"
"Enough!" he shouted. "The shield-ship, I know now,
Is a foe whose force it's