"Fair enough," cried Edward, "and now to the sword!"
Rising from his chair the man drew his long sword from its leather sheath and advanced threateningly upon Edward, who simply raised his sword in air, arm high. The man gave a mighty cut downward and, as his sword met the blade forged in Gobi, it was cut through as though it were a piece of rotten wood; but so mighty was the blow that the severed tip plunged downward and buried itself in the soft sod.
"Now this is magic against which no man prevail!" cried the man. "I can fight against man, but no against the gods. I will unloose the chain and give you the bird; but keep her bound, for, once released, she will fly away and then neither of us will have her."
"No. Take the chain off her leg. I will not keep her a prisoner. Unless she stays with me willingly she stays not at all."
The released eagle flew to Edward at once. Perching on his shoulder she flapped her wings and cried, "Hubelaire! Hubelaire!" or at least so it sounded to the young man.
"Now go you back to the place of your coming,” cried the man as he sat down in his chair, "and leave me to my brooding, which I can now do without being constantly disturbed by the raucous cries of this eagle. I have so many important things to brood over that I cannot offer you hospitality. Even if I live to old age I will not have time to sufficiently worry over all the problems which confront me."
"Life is short and a man is young only once," Edward answered. "Unless you had frequent interruptions from unusual visitors, you must have spent many precious years trying to solve your problems. You are either a wise man or a fool."
"Twenty years ago," the man replied, "I climbed a mighty crag and took this eagle, then only a fledgling, from her nest. From that day I have seldom left this chair and during that time you have been my only visitor. Were I wise, I would find an answer to all my questionings; if a fool, I would not spend a second trying to change human destiny. Being neither, I find there is naught else to do but continue my meditations."
For four days Edward walked toward the setting sun and on the fifth came to his home. During this time the eagle often flew into the blue sky until she was but a mere speck, but always she returned to her perch on his shoulder.
”I am glad you have returned from this adventure," Lord Harold greeted his son. "Tell me what befell you and how you come by that fierce eagle which sits so haughtily on your shoulder."
As Edward related all the happenings his father marveled greatly.
"What will you do with the bird? And why did you bring an eagle instead of a woman?" he asked, dissatisfaction in his voice.
”I will keep the window of my house always open so she may come and go as she will; for no one, certainly not a mere man, may tell so proud a bird what she may or may not do. I did not bring a woman because I saw none and, as I told you, only the one man from whom I took the eagle after the swordplay."
Then Edward took the sword and bound the blade with leather and soft velvet and swung it by the two hafts from the lower posts of his bed. There the eagle perched and preened her feathers, what time she was not flying in the blue sky hunting food. And all the young maidens wondered what manner of man Edward was to keep a bird in his bedchamber rather than a woman.
One day the eagle brought in small branches of pine, twigs of spruce and tender ends of the yew and built a nest in one corner of the room, wherein she laid a very large egg. On this she sat for many days, never leaving it, during which time Edward fed her with joints of chicken and rabbit. Then one day she left her nest and flew to her sword-perch crying proudly, "Hubelaire! Hubelaire! " Edward peered into the nest and saw the broken shell and, to his astonishment, a sturdy baby boy.
"Now what to do?" he asked himself. "This proud eagle laid an egg and hatched a boy child. There is no doubt that this is a most unusual event in her life and mine; but instead of wondering how it happened, 'twould serve better to think of the child, for it needs to be fed and cared for."
The eagle flew down from the perch and, standing on the floor, changed into a woman of marvelous beauty with bronze-colored hair and a long robe of deep blue.
"You need not worry about that, my so sweet Edward," she said, "-for this is our child and I will care for him as any mother would," and she opened her gown and bared her breast, and the little one suckled and fell asleep.
Full of dazed wonderment Edward sped to his father's house. "Some time ago," he said, trying to control his excitement, "you urged me to adventure into faraway lands and find me a wife who would bear a man-child to be future Lord to the Wolves. Come with me to my house and see for yourself how well I have followed your advice. For, were I tell you now, you would not believe me."
Without replying, Lord Harold rose and went with him. There, in Edward's house, he saw the lovely woman holding the sleeping baby in her arms.
"This is my wife, Father, and the baby she holds so proudly is a boy; though I know little of such younglings, it seems strong and hearty and no doubt will grow to be a mighty man."
All this puzzled Lord Harold. "I don't know how you did it, my dear boy," he said. "How could you keep a woman all this while without anyone's knowing it? And where is the eagle?"
The woman smiled as she looked at the grandfather, father and son and then she replied for Edward. "The eagle has flown away and will never more return, but I can repeat her cry of 'Hubelaire! Hubelaire!' and that shall be the name of all who descend from this boy; no longer Wolves, but Hubelaires. As soon as may be I will clean away the nest and Edward will unwrap the sword and hang it over the fireplace, for we will have use for neither perch nor nest in the future. Bird, or woman, I am proud and clean and wish to live in a house that is neat and orderly. And my son shall be called Cecil."
Some months later the little dark stranger appeared unannounced in the main room of Lord Harold's house.
"How fares it, my dear sir?" he asked.
"So you have come again," Harold replied. "Hapstance you know what happened when my son took your advice? He returned with an eagle, a very unusual bird who kept repeating a single word. In some way, months later, he found a wife and a son. I believe he was as surprised as all the family. Did you, in some way, work a powerful magic to give me a grandchild?"
"That may be. I will not say 'Yea' and I cannot say 'Nay'. But I have come for far more serious business than explaining how an eagle could lay an egg, hatch out a baby, and then suddenly become a very lovely woman. Your family must leave Armorica, which has served as a safe and pleasant home for so many years, and find a new lodgement in the lands across the sea»."
"Why must that be? We have no enemies to make war upon us."
"Far to the east there is a mighty city called Rome," the little man explained. "The rulers are never satisfied but are always foraying into far lands to kill, conquer, and hold all folk in slavery. At present their army, under a Lord called Caesar, is advancing through Gaul. They cut a path through the dark forests and build roads. When they come to a river they bridge it with logs and cross dry-shod. Their soldiers are gathered in companies called legions and, so far, even the mightiest of the Gauls have unable to withstand them. Some day they will reach your land, kill the men, make slaves of the women, and rear the young boys to become soldiers in their legions. That must not happen to the Wolves. You have some dragon ships; build more at once and take all your folk, cattle, geese and grain with you. The wind and tides will carry you to a land called Cornwall, where you will find a place of refuge."
"These are sorry words and perhaps poor advice," growled Lord Harold.
"You have a right to your opinion but the Wolves — or Hubelaires, as Edward's wife wants them called in the future — must never die. No matter what happens they must live on and on, for to me it seems impossible that anything as fine as the family I helped create should pass into nothingness. So, while time remains, prepare to flee. It would be brave to fight and die, but far wiser to flee and live."