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It was evident to Smith that the sacrifice, whatever it that not one word should escape him; and as all the people seemed animated by the same desire, a solemn and almost awful silence prevailed throughout the whole crowd. Then the Druidess spoke; her words fell clear and shrill upon the ears of her audience like the clarion notes of the trumpet which calls forth hosts to battle, and they pierced at once to the heart of Smith as they rang through the startled air. And thus spoke the Druidess:—
“Men of Britain’s Holy Isle,
Spiritless and idle still
Rest ye here, and all the while
Forest demons work their will?
Barren lie your hungry fields,
Yielding nought for human food,
While your spirit tamely yields
To the Tyrant of the Wood.
Hear the Future! To the gods
While libations Druids pour,
Britain’s Oak to ruin nods,
Rotten to the very core!
Craven spirits fear and hide
From the devastating foe.
Can the gods be satisfied
With a race of cowards? No!
What the mighty gods inspire
Bertha to her race imparts.
Hear ye all! the gods require
Stalwart arms and valiant hearts.
All the blood of victims slain
Never can your country save,
Till that country you sustain
With the daring of the brave.
Yet are ye no craven race;
If yourselves ye learn’d to know,
Never would ye turn your face
From the coming of the foe.
Ah! the spirit moves me now,
Ancient spirit of the oak;
’Neath its mighty spell I bow,
Hear the words the gods evoke!
’Mid the throng I see below
Stands a man of courage true,
And I see a light I know
Flashing from his eye of blue.
’Tis the light of valiant strength,
And its flash reveals to me
That the hour is near at length
When my people shall be free;
Free from terror and from yoke
Of the sanguinary Boar.
Let the hero strike the stroke;
Ye are free for evermore!”
The Priestess pronounced her last words with such intense animation, as if inspired by some supernatural power, that they produced a wondrous effect upon those to whom they were addressed. Indeed, it was not only her manner of speaking, but the matter of the words to which she gave utterance, which was well calculated to excite the people. Bowed down and dispirited for years under a great misfortune, they suddenly heard that deliverance was at hand, and that he by whom it might be wrought was actually standing among them at that moment. The greatest excitement, therefore, naturally prevailed, and a low murmur of mingled joy, surprise, and awe ran through the crowd.
The Druidess, meanwhile, stood still as a stone statue upon the hillock under the oak, gazing forward with eyes, fixed upon vacancy as if she were reading far into the Book of the Future, under the influence of some mighty spell. Her appearance, as of one in a trance, increased the reverential awe of the superstitious people, who remained for a few moments in a state of increasing doubt and wonder. Then some of them gathered courage and found voice to express the dearest wish of their hearts. “Holy Bertha!” they cried. “Sacred Maiden! Tell us who is our deliverer. Who is he that shall strike the stroke for our freedom? Where is he? How shall we find him?” And, as he spoke, the people pressed forward eagerly as near to the sacred hillock as their dread of the maiden’s sanctity would permit them to approach. With an imperious gesture she waved them back, and then, passing her hand across her brow, as if to brush away the trance which still partially obscured her vision for things present, she uttered the following words in a low and hurried tone:—
“The strength of a god and the skill of a toad
Unite in the man who shall Windsor deliver;
His name shall be hallow’d in every abode,
And henceforth shall be known in old England for ever!”
These words, although they possibly went but a very little way towards giving to the inquiring crowd the information they so anxiously desired, were of course very intelligible to Smith, even without the aid of any of that magic knowledge which he had acquired from his forest teachers. He was now certain, beyond all reasonable doubt, that the Druidess referred to him as the deliverer from the Great Boar, and that, having committed herself to such a prophecy, she and the priests of her order would, for their own sakes if for no better reason, do their very best to secure its fulfilment. But I am bound to say that other thoughts also occupied the breast of our hero. From the very first moment that he had set eyes upon the Druidess he had been struck with wondrous admiration. There was something in her appearance so majestic, so noble, and at the same time so winning, that the heart of Smith throbbed with new emotions, nor did he cease to gaze earnestly at the sacred maiden during the whole time of her discourse. In fact, I believe that, almost unconsciously to himself, a fervent desire that Bertha the Druidess should become Mrs. Smith took possession of our hero’s soul, and he fell a hopeless victim to “Love at first sight” without being aware of the fact.
Any friendly feeling, moreover, which might have been suggested by the outward appearance of the holy maid was tenfold increased when her words gave evidence that she was ready to help his accomplishment of that great object to which he had devoted his life. To be singled out from the crowd for praise, compliment, and prophecy of future distinction is an honour of which any man may be proud under general circumstances; but when the person who singles you out happens to be young and lovely, the flattery is not unfrequently of double sweetness, and tends to evoke a feeling which, if it takes its origin in gratitude, is not unlikely to become something warmer. Be this as it may, Smith felt towards the young Druidess as he had never felt before, and was by no means sorry that the circumstances in which he found himself rendered it absolutely necessary that he should seek a private interview with her as soon as possible. For, as no one but he himself could know that her words referred unmistakably to him, it was unlikely that he would be recognised as a leader or clothed with any authority unless some further steps were taken in the matter.
After having pronounced the last words, Bertha had hastily retreated behind the oak, and there was little chance that she would show herself again upon that occasion.. But Smith had underrated both the foresight of the Druidess and the intelligence of her hearers. Many of these had observed the presence amongst them of an entire stranger, and as, from a very early period of their history, Britons have been tolerably good hands at “putting two and two together,” they had arrived at the conclusion that this individual was extremely likely to be the deliverer whom the Priestess had declared she saw amid the throng below.
In those days, bashful modesty was not, as now, the characteristic of a British crowd. Instinctively they pressed around the stranger, and addressed to him several observations which savoured more of curiosity than politeness. They were good-natured, to be sure, as British crowds are even to the present day; but not recognising in him at once the qualities which had been so easily perceptible to the inspired Bertha, they questioned him familiarly and as one of themselves. It was not long, however, before their manner changed. Smith told them plainly that he came from the forest, that toads and toad-mysteries were known to him, and that so far at least he answered to the description which they had lately heard as that of their deliverer.
As they listened to his words, the respect of the simple rustics for the speaker greatly increased; his answers were whispered from one to the other, and there appeared a general disposition to welcome him as their leader, if leader indeed there was to be. Seeing that the opportunity was favourable, but yet too cautious to push matters far upon the first onset, Smith begged the crowd to disperse, but promised that, if they were of the same mind three days hence, he would meet them upon the heath at that time. To this they agreed; and having with some difficulty escaped from sundry loiterers who followed him, gaping and staring as if he had been some newly discovered monster, our hero returned to the forest and reported his adventures to his friends the toads. The latter listened with much satisfaction to his account of all that had happened, and gave him valuable advice as to his future proceedings. In accordance with their instructions, he again journeyed to the oak of Ascot Heath upon the next evening, and sought an interview with the Priestess upon whom his hopes were centred.
Interviews with Druidesses were not, in those days, very easy of accomplishment, and were not unattended with danger. For, if the Druids did not happen to approve, and did happen to discover the fact, the culprit stood an excellent chance of being speedily sacrificed. Smith, however, had no fear, and, as is proverbially the case, fortune favoured the brave. He met the holy maiden walking in the forest before he reached the oak. I really cannot tell you exactly what passed at the interview, but I know it resulted (as such interviews not unfrequently do) in the appointment of another. This also took place without any obstacle arising, and the result was that, when the time appointed for the reassembling of the people had arrived, Smith’s plans were pretty well matured.
Standing near the sacred oak, he addressed the crowd before him in brief but energetic words. He pointed out to them the misery which their country had so long endured through the ravages of the Great Boar. He declared that the thing, was intolerable, and that it only rested with themselves to put an end to it by a great and united effort. He professed himself willing to lead them if they would only engage to follow him, and was confident that, if he were obeyed, all would go well. If, indeed, they had any doubt about his being a fit person to lead them, let them only say so and he would at once yield to another. These words were received with much favour by many of his audience, but some of the more timid and doubtful still hesitated as to their course, when suddenly a voice spoke from the old oak in words of unmistakable import:—
“This is the man and this the hour
To break the tyrant’s hateful power.
No longer, Englishmen, delay;
Choose—listen—follow—and obey!”
These words at once reassured every one, and effectually settled the question. Smith was unanimously elected leader, and, like other leaders, proceeded at once to declare his policy. He told his followers that the first thing to be done was to make a good road right into the heart of the forest. People are apt to magnify dangers about which they know little, and the thick and impenetrable nature of the Boar’s retreat greatly added to the idea of his wondrous power. The first thing, then, was to let the light of day in upon him, and, accordingly, the very next morning, a strong body of labourers commenced to work at a good, broad road, which should penetrate the heart of the forest.
Of course this undertaking occupied some time, during which the secret interviews between Smith and the fair Druidess were not unfrequent, and the brave young leader obtained much good advice as to his mode of procedure.
The most extraordinary part of the story is that, all this time, no one heard or saw anything of the Boar. Whether he knew less of magic than was supposed, and, being engaged on the other side of the forest, did not know what was going on near Ascot Heath—or whether he knew and didn’t think it worth while to interfere—or whether he was idle, sleepy, ill, or anything else—I don’t know; but he never interfered at all until a long length of road had been made, and a gang of labourers had got very near his lair.