Now, always before this those attempting to enter Mistland had gone through the low pastures, fearing the surf and the sharp rocks and holding Skullery Mountain to be impassable. But now the Golden One, with the salt ocean at his back and the gulls flying friendly around him, climbed like a goat till he reached the topmost crag, and then, pausing, looked down. From this. point of vantage he saw what had never before been seen by any Hubelaire. After that he came often but told no one what he had seen. However, his hair became more golden and his songs sweeter.
Then came late spring: the first strawberries had blossomed and fruited and all prepared for the yearly sacrifice. The Hubelaires wended their way in gay procession to offer the gods the best of their fruit, honey, wine and grain. Lord Anthon preceded the family while Raymond, with flowers in his hair, led those who played on the harp and flute. The little children ran with chains of daisies. Doves fluttered in the air, tied with one foot to the babes who were carried in their mother's arms. Right glad were all hearts for the coming of another year and the mercy shown them by the great gods who ruled them from the sky. All were in festive garb, their arms and war harness being left in their homes.
With trembling hand the aged Lord laid fire to the sacrifice on the altar. Then the three and thirty souls of the House of Hubelaire sang the songs which had been sung by their ancients at the Balar of Balder in Jutland, the land that was far away and long ago. And, of those who played on the harps, none made sweeter or more mirthful music than Raymond the Golden, while, high in the sky, a lark trilled.
Lord Anthon made the sacrificial prayer and all knelt, each asking for that he most desired, with pure hearts and last-shut eyes. As thus they prayed, the Rathlings rushed upon them from all sides.
The lark ceased singing in the sky; the sun darkened behind thickening clouds of ominous gray; the wind blew biting cold from off the Hungry Sea. Three of the Hubelaire men lay dead on the dark earth; while all living Hubelaires, bound with ropes and earth-stained, lay in a pile.
Sardain, King of the Rathlings, laughed loudly and, as he laughed, threw filth on the sacred altar and horse dung in the faces of the three dead men. All that day the Hubelaires died, and as each one died, the living, bound and helpless, lay watching. For their soul-letting was not clean and peaceful, but was accomplished by all the tortures the barbarians could devise and determine in their twisted souls. So all the men and women younglings and even the babies at the breast were soul-letted till finally only one of the thirty and three, who had gone so happily to the yearly sacrifice, was alive.
Then the bonds of Raymond were loosed and he was led face-to-face before Sardain. The King's hands and all his hairy body were red with blood and to the right and left and under his feet were a multitude of pieces of what had once been the House of the Hubelaires.
"The battle is over, Raymond!" he shouted, while the blood-streaked spittle dripped from his mouth.
The Golden One laughed defiantly. "No! It has just begun!"
"How say you so? Thus far I have spared you. A whim of mine. I wanted you to see the others suffer. Was it not clever how I used the wild horses? Did you ever see anything as comical as the way the hot sword had its will with your virgins? One of my men is a clever worker with colors. He will put the story down on parchment — picturing how each of you died. I will have the paintings bound in a book. You will join the others; the last page is reserved for you. I have a few fine plans for you. But first I will grant you one request. Ask me your desire — but beware that you ask not too much — it must not come between me and my pleasure."
Raymond the Golden looked at him, and his heart grew cold, but not from fear. He prayed to the Gods he wot of, but not for mercy, and then be spake.
"Allow me to be gone from here till the third day; then I will return here or to your house on the other side of the island. Then you may do with me as you will, if only you leave me go till the third day."
"Good!" replied Sardain. "Whatever happens will be good. We have all the boats and it is too far for you to swim to Cornwall. If you come back it will be well, and if you think you can hide on Lundy it will be rare sport for my young men and deerhounds to hunt for you. All the hours you are away I will perfect my plans for my greatest pleasure. We will wait for you here where we have a fire and plenty of fresh meat. We have not had such fine meat for many a year. Let him go! In three days we will see him. I wish I could tell which of those pieces of carrion belonged to the bitch who dropped him. I would save some of her for him to eat on his return."
The circle opened. Raymond bounded away like a frightened rabbit; but he was not afraid.
It was dusk when he reached the base of Skullery Mountain, and so he bathed in the ocean and then lay on the wet sand till the fill moon rose out of the Hungry Sea. Because he treaded familiar paths and haste impelled him, he climbed the crags till he reached the topmost and then dropped down on the other side into the dark forest of Mistland. Running along a well-worn path he came to the end of his journey. There in a green meadow, bathed in moonlight and free of the mist that elsewhere hung heavily, stood a round tower, and about it, cud-chewing, lay some cattle.
There Raymond stood and sang a song of his own making, and never had he sung the song save under this tower. Thus he sang:
"Golden sunshine all around,
Flowers springing from the ground,
Love does everywhere abound,
Since the day my Love was found.
Haste then, Love, and to me fly,
Hasten, hasten, or I die."
Then from the tower came a damsel and she ran to him and pressed him to her while two great wolfhounds fawned on him and licked his hands and a broad-shouldered servant came with a torch in one hand and a mace in the other. All together entered the tower.
"I have a thousand questions to ask you," she said.
"For the love you bear me," he replied, "give me bread and wine and a little cheese and let me sleep by the fire on the bear skin, for I am very tired and my spirit is cold within me. When I wake on the morrow I will tel you all."
These things she did, and, while he rested, murmuring in his broken sleep, she and the carl and the great hounds watched over him and over on the hearth the fire was kept brightly burning.
Morning came at last and with it the sunbeams breaking like lances through the rolling mists, and the damsel brought ale and warmed it and a piece of savory fish. When Raymond awoke she nourished him. Then they went hand-in-hand to the ocean and there bathed while the wolfhounds sported between them in the waves. So they came back and sat them on a great mound of moss in the sun at the foot of the stone tower. There, quietly and calmly, for he was very much of a man, he told her all the happenings of the least day, and how he came to be with her. Because she was high-born, she heard his tale in silence, though there was a twisting of her hands, and, as he spoke, she grew older and her skin ivory for all the body-blood drawing towards her heart.
After he had finished with the speaking, they sat very quiet, and the dogs lay at their feet, their noses between their paws and their eyes sorrowful, for they were fine-bred and could comprehend much of the. emotions of their loved ones.
Finally the damsel spoke; "So this is the end?"
"An you look on life as I do and cherish me as I do you, it will be but the beginning of the House of the Hubelaires, instead of a sad and final ending," he replied, "for nothing as fine as our House can die and come to an ending. The Golden Sun which we worship has been swallowed by the Hungry Sea and seems to be dead, but always, on the next morn, it comes alive once more. So it will be with us. I cannot believe that for evermore the Rathlings shall live without punishment for the dark work of yesterday, and there must be another dosing of the story."