For several days Lord Harold weighed the advice and discussed it with the older men of the Wolves. Finally he gave the order to build more boats. Now everyone was busy and all the women and even the little children did what they could to prepare tor the sailing. At last they left Armorica and sailed for many days, wind-driven, till they reached the coast of a new land, where they beached their boats and set free the cattle so they could eat; all made merry, because the new land seemed a place of certain refuge.
The day after landing, Lord Harold, his son Edward and a few of the older Wolves explored the country, desiring to find a proper place to build a new town. In a few hours they came to a very large house, the like of which they had never seen; walls fifty feet high with no opening save a small gate connecting with a drawbridge that spanned a channel of water surrounding the high walls. On one side a watchtower rose high above the lofty wall.
The little dark man stood on the drawbridge awaiting them.
"Welcome to your new home, Lord Harold," he cried, "and greeting to you, my good Edward. How goes it with your eagle wife and fine boy? How do you like your new home?"
"I never saw anything like it," Lord Harold replied. "How is it built and what use can he made of it?"
"It is a castle. In years to come it will be called the Castle of the Hubelaires, if Edward’s wife has her way, and I am certain she will, because she is a very clever woman. In it are many rooms, enough to house all the family at one time. The banquet hall is large enough that all may sit at one long table and eat. Inside is a spring of never-failing water, storage bins for grain and hay, stalls for horses and cattle. Once your family, stock and belongings are in this castle and the drawbridge raised, naught can harm you. Before this you lived in little houses, pleasant enough but impossible to defend. New times, increasing dangers, need different solutions. So I brought you to Cornwall, where I knew this castle waited, for I want your family, Wolves or Hubelaires, to live on and on."
One of the warriors, who was a stonemason, inspected the walls. Turning he said to Lord Harold: "It would have taken hundreds of men many years to build those high walls, my Lord, yet the cutting on the stones seems fresh and the mortar between them is still soft in places."
Harold turned to ask the dark man about it, but he was nowhere to be seen.
3. Raymond The Golden
This is the third of the Cornwall series, which Dr. Keller arranged into a single book, to be read in chronological order. And, of course, even when a "history” is such charming — and sometimes horrifying — fantasy, protocol requires that we pretend it really happened; thus, as a good historian, the author provides us with an "argument from dates” indicating the high spots of what has gone before, both in the earlier stories and in the "times between”; for this is the old-fashioned, storybook sort of history where each and every detail of each and every year is not gone into exhaustively, but the best "stories” are told
Anthon, Lord of the Hubelaires, asked his grandson, Raymond the Golden, to go with him to the shore of the Hungry Sea. As they sat on the sands he said, "You are my only grandson, Raymond. When I die you will be ruler. I wish you could inherit wealth, prosperity and fame, but we are a little people and there is nothing I can leave you save pride.
"But there is somewhat I must tell you. Before we came to the Isle of Lundy we lived across the Hungry Sea in a land called Cornwall. There we held a mighty building called a castle, the like of which you have never seen. The Cambrians frequently tried to take it but never succeeded; however, frequent wars and disease so weakened us that we were forced to leave it. Before so doing, our Lord hid some of our treasures in a lower room and walled the door shut so none might find it. Because he had the vain hope that some day our people would return and once again become great in Cornwall, he drew a map showing where those treasures were. This chart has passed in succession from Lord to Lord. Now I give it to you. Cherish it greatly. Your oldest son must have it and know its meaning. In turn he must tell his son and thus the secret will always be known to the Lord of the Hubelaires." He handed Raymond a small parchment.
"They must be great treasures," mused Raymond.
"Not what you think," his grandsire replied. "Neither gold, silver nor precious jewels. The tale, as handed down from father to son, is that long since our folk lived in a far land called Jutland and their Lord was a mighty man named Balder. He had a weapon called the Thor hammer, with which he killed a giant and thus won his bride. When he returned home he brought the giant's spear as trophy. Later we lived in Armorica and our Lord Edward owned a most unusual sword with a haft at either end. The story of his use of this sword is so magical that I can scarce believe it. For many generations these three weapons, the Thor hammer, the spear and the sword were venerated, and finally they were hidden as I have told you."
"We are at peace," Raymond said. "The weather is pleasant and the Hungry Sea at rest. I could sail there and bring these wonderful weapons back to Lundy. It would not take long."
”No. The time has not yet come. We will soon rejoice in the springtime sacrifice. I hope you will marry then for I cannot die in peace till I know you have a son. The Hubelaires must live on and on, for something as fine as our family must never perish. Since your father died in battle against the Rathlings you have been my only hope. Have you decided which of our maidens you wish to mate with? There are only three old enough, but any one of them would make you a lovely bride. Before this our young men always married outside the family, and that was good; but now that cannot be done."
“Perhaps none of them would want me, Grandfather."
"Why not? Your long golden hair shines in the sunlight. You are clean of limb and strong. You can play on the harp and sing sweetly. None of our men can excel you in the use of the battle axe or long sword. Yet, withal, you have a tender way in caring for our lambs, and the wild deer come at the sound of your voice."
"All that may be true," Raymond replied with a laugh, "but methinks a woman wants more than all of this. And just what a woman needs to satisfy her I cannot say."
Thus he spoke, because he did not want to tell his grandfather a longing in his heart which he had kept secret from even his kindly mother, Matje.
At the west of the island was a place called Mistland, and what was there or why, or who lived there, none knew; for in the curling white vapors none could find his way, but, walking circlewise, ever came out as he came in and was none the wiser. Follwar, the fisherman, had told Raymond tales of the Mist, and how, from his boat on the waves of the Hungry Sea, he had seen the high peaks and heard the wailing of the sea gulls and the white foam of the surf caressing the rocks. The fisherman had added that it was a good place to stay away from, if you wanted to return safely at nightfall. Also, Raymond had heard Lord Anthon and the other oldlings tell tales of wanderers lost in the white air, and, finally, arriving at the place of their outseting.
A year before, Raymond, filled with a desire to succeed where all had failed, had left his home one morning. Cheese and bread were in his wallet, his sword was lashed to his belt, and his three-stringed harp was tied to his back. He walked along the beach till he came to Skullery Mountain, where the sands changed to sharp rocks. Around him was the white, seething mist that hid all before it and covered the skin with the cold, wet hand of the Deathlings.