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Chapter Five
THE TALE OF THE END OF ATHELSTAN
This tale was set down by Alfir son of Athelstan.
Having sent the beacon-signal to the citadel of Bridburg, Athelstan left the ferry and journeyed thither with all speed. On the way he gathered to him those of his company of thirty retainers whom he had left to guard the beacons. On the evening of the third day after the death of the worm, the King and his thirty arrived in Ost-en-Aderthad. There was but muted rejoicing at their arrival, for many in the castle and the town had fallen sick of the worm and the cloud that still hung over his carcass. And Eofor, he who had slain the worm, had been grievously afflicted by the flames of Naurang; but Berma the good witch came to him as he lay abed, and tended him so that he healed swiftly and without disfigurement. Then the King said, ‘We will make no feast nor celebrate this deed until our realm be rid of the worm and cleansed.’ And so, with all helping who had strength in their arms, they pushed Fëaruk over the cliff; and the sea took him away.
But that night more fell sick, and some died; for the cloud hung over the castle and the town of Ost-en-Aderthad. Then King Athelstan sent a message by Lady Bryd, imploring the witch to come and heal his people. And when Bryd had gone, Athelstan spoke to the young man Eofor, saying:
‘Now your world lies before you, and here there is no time for rejoicing: sickness and trouble shall dwell in my house for a while. Rise from your bed, son of Calessar. Go forth and reclaim your own.’
Then Eofor was heavy-hearted, and he wept, saying, ‘As a father you have been to me; but the time of our love has been too short.’
‘Truly,’ Athelstan replied, ‘I count myself luckier in you, sister-son, than in my own three princes: and behold, all three desire to follow you and to fight for you in your battles. Dulinir and Thoronhir, you two have leave to depart with Eofor, but Alfir shall stay.’
Then Alfir was vexed, and he said, ‘Why, O father?’
And Athelstan answered: ‘Another witness is needed; and more, for I perceive that neither of these twain shall return. One shall die in battle and the other remain in the North.’
Then Alfir was silent and began to ponder the King’s words. And Athelstan commanded ten of his thirty earls to follow Eofor, to be his knights and to obey him, for the space of a year and a day, as if he were their own liege lord. And then Athelstan bestowed rings and treasures on Eofor, for his deeds of valour; and he gave him a chest of money and a store of weapons for the arming of his followers.
Next day the people gathered outside the gates of the town, with Bryd and Berma. And Dreng knelt before Eofor, with Bryd his wife, again beseeching that she might be allowed to follow Eofor’s camp; for this couple desired not to be parted, and Bryd was eager to travel northward, that she might find her daughter once again. So Eofor looked at Berma, and he said, ‘By your leave, Mistress?’ And she answered, ‘Take them both, and be off with you.’ So they all mounted their steeds, and the people of Ost-en Aderthad cheered and saluted them, with the Dwarves of Bridburg who had come forth to honour their departure, and the Elves of the Wood who let themselves be seen under the trees.
But when Eofor had gone a gloom fell on the day. The people looked up at the evil cloud that had crept further inland, and some of them began to sweat and to be sick. But now Berma came forth and laboured mightily against the plague: so that folk wondered, when afterwards they told of it to one another, and said, ‘How could this Lady have been in the houses of so very many, all separately, within the same hours of the night?’ And by her skill most of the sick were cured; and at length the cloud passed away.
Meanwhile the Dwarves had no fear of the sickness, having already endured much poisoning by the evil substances from which the cloud had sprung. So they sent Hanar to demand payment of King Athelstan for the things they had wrought: Naurang, the great engine of destruction, and the armour of Eofor. And Athelstan said, ‘Tomorrow evening we shall hold a great feast in the castle, with thanksgiving to Yabeth and all the Gods. Let the Dwarves be present, and there they shall be paid in full.’ And he invited by name all those whose skill had helped in the forging of Naurang: Nali, Nabbi, Nar and all the rest, down to Hanar and Har themselves, even though these last two knew none of the secrets of its making.
Then, when Hanar had gone, the King summoned his twenty remaining earls, together with the chief steward of his treasury, and gave them certain orders. And at last he dismissed the steward and gathered his retainers closely around him; and then he spoke of certain matters, and gave certain additional orders which, when they heard them, caused the faces of his men to go pale. And although some of them did venture to question his commands, none would disobey him, for they were loyal to him in all things.
Next morning King Athelstan arose at cockcrow and departed from the castle. Alone he walked through the dewy meadows until he came to the edge of the wood. He walked through the dark and shadowy trees until he came to the lake, and beheld Berma’s island; he skirted the lake and continued deeper and deeper into the forest, and at last came to an ancient hallow, a glade where a bright stream of water ran among large stones. The King climbed to the top of the biggest of these rocks, made a trumpet of his hands and shouted four times, turning as he did so from east, to south, to west, to north:
‘Wasa!’
This was the name of one of the Wild Men of the woods. Athelstan was friendly with him, held his wisdom in high esteem and sometimes sought him out for counsel.
Presently Wasa appeared in the glade. He was naked, save for a fringe of grass below his pot-belly, and his black hair was tied back in a thin tail, and his eyes glowered like red points beneath his sloping brows.
‘Hail, King!’ said Athelstan: for Wasa was the chief of his own tribe.
But Wasa stood still, and scanned King Athelstan with his eyes, as he sat upon the stone; and Athelstan spread out his hands towards him. And during the silence each of them knew, and received from the other, almost all that needed to be said. At last Wasa spoke:
‘It is time, then, the worm being dead.’
‘Indeed,’ said the King. ‘Do you still approve my purpose?’
‘Yes,’ answered Wasa, ‘it is a good trap: so long as you are sure that you desire the catching! Does your heart speak clearly in this?’
And Athelstan paused in his turn; and as he closed his eyes, Wasa saw that he was going far away, deep into the depths of himself. And this is known, for Wasa later told Alfir of this last meeting; and Alfir continues to visit the Wild Man from time to time, following his father’s custom. Then Athelstan said ‘yes,’ and the air of the forest was all alive, and though he and Wasa were some yards from each other it seemed to both of them that they embraced. Then Athelstan took food from a pack which he carried: bread, honey, fruit, nuts and wine; and the two broke their fast together.
In the afternoon the twenty-four Dwarves came up from the vaults, richly dressed and weaponless, with Hanar and Har in the rear. They found the doors of Athelstan’s hall thrown open, and a great hoard of treasure placed in the midst of the hall; and their eyes gleamed with joy. And King Athelstan, standing at the upper end of the hall with a few of his earls, welcomed the Dwarves in a loud voice, saying, ‘Enter, friends, and look upon your reward, before we sit down to meat.’ So they entered; but as Hanar and Har came in last of all, these two were taken unawares, seized and silenced by strong Men-at-arms. The rest of the company, being intent on their reward, did not notice that Hanar and Har were missing. The Men-at-arms gagged the two young Dwarves and bound them very tightly, so that they could not move nor make a sound; but their eyes were not blindfolded. And a Man-at-arms said sternly to them, ‘The King bids you watch and remember.’ Then the two were carried upstairs to a high gallery in the hall, where the King’s minstrels often made music; and they were placed in a shadowy alcove where a watcher could see what passed in the hall without being seen himself. And although they were angry and sick with dread, they were surprised and in some measure heartened to see that another person had been set in the same alcove before them: and they recognised him as Prince Alfir, though he was gagged and bound even as they were. And the Man-at-arms stood behind the three who were bound, and he showed them a knife, and he whispered, ‘I have sworn to kill the first one of you three who makes a sound. Watch and remember.’
So the witnesses looked down into the hall, where the Dwarves were admiring the treasures with delight. They plunged their hands into strong-boxes and ploughed through the shining coins, or lifted up sparkling chalices, or caressed the surfaces of golden bowls and platters. And Nabbi said to the King, ‘Generous to a fault, Your Majesty! Is not this your entire hoard?’
‘Not quite,’ answered the King, ‘but I desire to make a full recompense: his own weight in gold for each Dwarf.’
‘But that is too much, even for a King’s gratitude,’ protested Nabbi.
‘I think not,’ said the King. ‘Now let dinner be served!’ And he smote three times on a kettle-drum.
Now the Men-at-arms who had taken the young Dwarves captive, with others who were also hiding in the gallery, with yet others who were concealed in various places about the hall, were no common soldiers but members of the Thirty: all those twenty, in truth, who had not been sent away with Lord Eofor. It was a condition of the earldom, to which many aspired, that an oath of transcendent loyalty be sworn to the King: the earls must obey his every word, without reference to any other standard of right and wrong. And as these twenty were all noble and kindly Men, well liked by the people, they must surely have hated the commands which Athelstan had given them, and which they now proceeded to obey. On the third beat of the drum they all stood forth, appearing on the balcony or from behind curtains and half-closed doors. Each had a bow and an arrow set on the string. And at once the hall was filled with death.
The poor Dwarves’ knees were weakened, or else they doubled at the waist before sinking down, or sprang to the main door of the hall, which had now been locked, before subsiding with feathered shafts sticking out of their backs. Arrows whirred and knocked, skipped and dropped all round the hall, smashed through the window-glass and stuck in tables beside the twisting bodies. Nali and Nar, realising their fate, approached the King with fierce curses, and he drew his sword, but they were both shot before they reached him. Other Dwarves picked up heavy golden things and hurled them with furious strength at their attackers. Several of these hit their targets; two archers were stunned; but within half a minute the struggling was all over.
The earls now came forward, examining the Dwarves’ bodies and swiftly despatching all who remained alive. Up in the gallery, Hanar and Har and Alfir were ungagged and set at liberty. Har had vomited into his gag and almost choked. Alfir stood at the balcony with a pale face. Then the King called up to them:
‘Hanar! Har! Alfir! Have you seen?’
‘Yes, father,’ answered Alfir. ‘We have seen all.’
‘Continue to watch!’
Now, while the afternoon passed into evening, and the setting sun was enfolded in blood-red clouds, and a pall of deep shame and horror settled on the castle, the bodies of the Dwarves were laid on litters, covered and swathed in white sheets and carried out. Often going and returning, the earls carried the small litters reverently from the castle, down the hill and along the road, past the ominous shape of Naurang, to the Dwarves’ Door. When the treasure had also been brought down in full, with Hanar and Har as free but unwilling attendants, an earl pounded on the Door with his fist. The iron rune split apart as the doors were opened.
Hanar and Har ran in and spoke vehemently to the guards, while Athelstan and his Men waited with stern patience and the evening breeze played with the wrappings of the corpses. Then a voice spoke from the darkness beyond the Door: ‘Let all enter.’
So they entered, at first carrying the litters; but with speechless fury the hard hands of the Dwarves grabbed the handles from the hands of the Men, while other Dwarves went from the caverns to bring in the treasure. Surrounded by hundreds of Dwarves – many going before, many marching abreast, many bringing up the rear – the twenty-two Men proceeded towards the doom that awaited them. The lamps now burned with a dim reddish flame, and in the dimness the Men saw many staring faces, all convulsed with rage, save a few that wept; and these tears of bitter heartbreak and accusation were the more painful to look upon; and all the streets and tunnels, the vaults and cellars and chambers were filled with whispering and muttering.
In the great chamber, on a tall dais beneath the four white lamps, Vali the Dwarf sat on a stone chair: the Seat of Judgement. The bodies were laid out before him and the dimly-sparkling treasures arranged round them. On one side stood the company of Men, contained within the hollow of a great crowd of Dwarves. On the other side Hanar and Har, the accusers, stood alone. And the face of Vali was grim.
When the whole chamber was perfectly still, Vali turned to Hanar and Har. ‘Speak,’ he said.
Each then lifted up a battle-axe, offering first the haft to Vali, then the blade to Athelstan and his company. Then they told the full tale of the King’s treachery and the murder of their kin. And they came forward and raised three of the corpse-wrappings, so that the faces of Nali and Nar and Nabbi the master-smith, the sons of Vali, were seen. And then, while the silence deepened with more intense grief, Hanar and Har became more impassioned, their fury overcoming their first numbness of mood. Louder and louder they cried, fiercely and more fiercely they brandished their axes, and at last they leaped towards the King and would have slain him themselves, had they not been held back.
‘Peace,’ said Vali.
He beckoned four bearded Dwarves towards him; they mounted the steps of the dais and listened while he spoke to them in an undertone. Then they hurried off together. Then Vali addressed the King in a heavy, sorrowful voice:
‘Two have demanded justice, on behalf of the other kin of these whom you have slain, and on behalf of themselves, and of my own self also; and justice they shall have. But I do not understand this in you, Athelstan. Speak, therefore, and enlighten me.’
Athelstan began to speak. And he neither ceased nor paused in his discourse, though at times he heard behind him the noise of saws and hammers; for he guessed what carpentry was being done.
‘Know first, Lord Vali, that everything the accusers have said is true. Know next, that their lives were spared for this very purpose, that they might be witnesses and accusers of my crime, for which I offer no extenuation. Speaking to you of foul and cold-blooded murder, base treachery, savage ingratitude and so on, they have uttered no word that is not amply justified. All the same, I am glad that you have asked me to explain the reasons for what I have done.
‘Lord Vali, these were some of the words of Fëaruk the dragon, that he spoke before he died: This new weapon must turn against the Earth with injury far worse than I could ever inflict. Dark-hearted Men, how shall you ever desist from seeking and using such a weapon? Now the life of the Earth is remote from the lives of the Dwarves. Intent upon your anvils and forges, or following the precious lodes through the deep rock, you do not concern yourselves with the soil, the grass, the plants and the animals on which, nonetheless, your lives depend. The children of Auland must eat, no less than all the other children of Almighty Dru! And it is the Earth-mother herself, that Goddess whom we call Yabeth, who particularly blesses this kingdom, who has granted fortune and abundance and good seed to Men and Elves and Dwarves alike – who has blessed your own loins also, my lord Vali, so that even now you are not left sonless. Yet if the dying words of the worm are true, you Dwarves have conspired with us Men to do her a very grievous wrong.
‘Other wrongs she suffers indeed, and has suffered always: hewing of trees, burning of coal, destruction of forest, pollution of water and air. These she tolerates within measure, knowing our needs, and being in herself the Mother of all abundance. Yet this new thing that we have done – thou and I together – is another kind of injury, an outrage new and strange and without precedent. The smelting of those poisonous metals, the exploding of new and terrible fire, the creation of new plagues and pestilence-clouds: such doing are an affront that Yabeth cannot accept. And neither should we: for they threaten the life of the very soil, by which, as I said, all our lives are supported. Such doings are a crime and a blasphemy against nature. As you laboured in your mines, or stared at the glow of the forge, your eyes ever downward, it was not to be expected – and indeed no-one has begun to blame you – that you should consider the moral that must be drawn from the use of this new weapon. I repeat, Lord Vali, that you are not to blame: but I ask you now to turn your thoughts from your dark and subterranean world, to look upward and consider. How long will it be before the news of the dragon’s death, and the manner of his perishing, shall arrive at the cities of Thandor and the South? How long before the smiths and the Aulendili of other lands shall send spies to discover your secrets? How slight, how scant need their clue be, the hint betrayed from your secrecy, the tiny spark needed to set other ingenious minds on fire? How long before new aharukliri are created? And finally, how long before dark-hearted Men, desiring to annihilate their enemies in new wars, should make use of their new weapons and thereby inflict incurable injury on the Mother of us all?
‘Yet no other power, after all, could have availed us against so mighty a foe. Our friend Calendis, Yabeth’s chief servant who sometimes visits us, gave assent to this course. What must be, must be. Hardly can the clock of progress be put back; hardly can new knowledge be returned into the realm of things unknown; hardly can the smoke of a great burning be gathered up and absorbed into the first fuel. Hardly, I say, yet what can hardly be done may be attempted nonetheless, and even accomplished. This turning-back of the clock, this thrusting-back of knowledge, this regathering of the poisonous smoke is what I have attempted by my deed. Your good Dwarves, whose names are worthy of all honour, were the only ones who knew the secrets of the aharuklir. The secrets, consequently, are lost. Let them remain lost. Let the knowledge be dissolved in ignorance. Let the tale of the death of Fëaruk be buried under a dark mound of shame. Let the Earth be protected. For her sake, and for the sake of my kingdom, have I dared to shed your innocent blood.
‘Now, regarding my kingdom, there are two things that I would ask of you. This is the first: that my act of treachery be kept from the knowledge of your own King, Sogni of the Eastern Mountains. If it comes to his ears the consequence will probably be war, with at least the certain destruction of that amity which I have laboured to build up between our peoples. Let no war arise from this, Lord Vali, I pray! Say that the makers of Naurang perished accidentally in the fire that laid low the dragon; tell him also that King Athelstan, with some of his Men, did perish in that same fire; say finally that the throne of Enaderth, in deepest sorrow and gratitude for the deliverance wrought, has offered full ransom, according to your law, each Dwarf’s own weight in gold – and Sogni, although he will grieve, will not be angry.
‘But what of yourselves, who know the whole truth? You have the ransom, though I do not expect it alone to content you; and you have me in my own person, with the bodies of these my subjects. Wreak your vengeance on us, if that will ease your hearts. Yet remember that these Men were merely the instruments of my purpose. The true guilt of the crime belongs solely to me. And indeed I wish to atone.
‘The second boon, for which I beg you on bended knee, Lord Vali –’ going down on one knee as he spoke – ‘is that you spare, and absolve from all blame, this son of mine, Prince Alfir. In sparing him, who knew nothing of my intention, and is perfectly guiltless, as these two accusers must testify, you shall forgive the whole of my own guiltless people. Behold, he is brought down among you to be a witness in his turn, that he also may know the full truth by witnessing whatever must now befall. When he becomes King after me, let my death, and the manner of my death, and your knowledge of the reasons for my death, ensure peace between you and him. Thus let my crime be wiped away.’
So he spoke. Then Vali considered, and replied:
‘It is not just to let this host of murderers go unpunished, even if they slew in obedience to our orders! I have heard of royal courts where the servants, if their lord commanded them to do such a wicked deed, would disobey him to his face. Half of them must die.’
‘Then choose you,’ said Athelstan. ‘All will offer themselves, if asked.’
So the Dwarf came down from his seat; and he walked up to the row of unarmed Men who stood proud and tall; and he walked along the line, reaching up and touching every other Man on the breast. These Men, whose names are not recorded, were at once seized and taken to the gibbet that had been set up at the far end of the chamber. Athelstan went with them, and no Dwarf now laid hand on him, nor attempted to prevent him. Each earl embraced his lord. Athelstan bade them farewell, one after another, as they mounted the steps of the scaffold. One after another, the ten figures dangled and twisted on the end of the dark rope, while the shock and dread and insatiate lust for vengeance thickened in the air of the crowded chamber. While the tenth Man was still choking in his death-agony, Hanar and Har, who were now beside themselves, came scampering back to Vali’s chair. ‘A boon for us, Lord!’ they cried. ‘Grant us one thing also!’
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Maul!’ they yelled. ‘Maul, Maul! Punishment of Maul!’
‘So be it,’ said Vali. ‘Do you know what that is?’ he said to Athelstan.
‘I saw it once in a vision, long ago,’ answered the King. ‘But stay: let me first place this crown on my son’s head.’
So Alfir knelt before his father and was crowned King.
Then the Dwarves led Athelstan to the gibbet; but instead of placing the noose round his neck, they pierced his ankles, between the bone and the tendon, with a steel bodkin. A strong cord was passed through the two holes and tied to the rope. Athelstan screamed as he was hoisted into the air to hang upside-down. This was how he had seen himself in the foreshowing of the Druid’s pool. Having uttered the first pain of the hanging he hung in silence thereafter, with a little blood trickling down his legs and his face beginning to go dark. Then the Dwarves cut away most of his clothes, and those who were akin to the murdered ones, beginning with Vali himself, came forward to take their own vengeance on the murderer. They whipped him with their small scourges of leather and wire, and attacked him and tortured him fiercely in many other ways. And the night passed, and the next day; and then King Athelstan died.
Alfir his son sat with him all this while, neither eating nor drinking nor sleeping. Then he brought back his father’s body for burial; and Vali and all the others Dwarves forgave him, and frithgild was renewed between the peoples, as before.
This is the end of Part Eight.
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