Tales From Cornwall: A History Of The Hubelaires

2. The Sword and the Eagle

This is the second of the series of stories DAVID H. KELLER, M. D. wrote around the legends of Cornwall; and while some this "history of the Hubelaires” is rooted in recognizable myth and legend, much is original with the author. A number of the stories in the series appeared in WEIRD TALES and other magazines in the 20s, 30s, and 40s; we see now that there were many more previously unpublished than most of us suspected. And one of Dr. Keller's last projects was to put the Cornwall series in order; so each chapter, which is a complete tale in itself, we shall run a section of the "Argument from Dates” which will bring the reader up to the time of the current story.

As Harold, lord of the Wolves in Armorica, strolled among the stone houses which sheltered his family, he watched the children playing merrily while the women worked and the men perfected themselves in the use of the sword, spear and hammer. The Wolves had be at peace for many years but none the less were always preparing for a war which they hoped would never come. Mountains surrounded the small valley where the cattle and geese were herded by the older children. Six dragon ships rose and fell with the waves in the little harbor. Some of them were very old and had been used by the Wolves when they fled from Jutland.

Lord Harold was pleased with all he saw; but he was gravely concerned about the peculiar personality of Edward, his only son. Though Edward was a likeable lad, there were moments when his father despaired of bis ever becoming worthy of being Lord of the Wolves, for he seemed both unable and unwilling to realize that some day he would rule and, perhaps more important, marry and have a son who in turn would rule after him.

Turning to the forest that stood thick and tall behind the village, Harold found his son seated on a bed of thick club moss, resting against a tree and playing on a harp. For moments Harold stood looking at the young man, who continued playing, seemingly unmindful of bis father's prescence. Finally, the tune finished, he looked up with a smile. "It is new. How do you like it, Father?” he asked. "When I have perfected it I will teach it to our harper, who will fashion words to go with it; perhaps a song that will remind us of the former greatness of the Wolves."

"It is sweet music," his father replied, "but I have more important matters to about. Instead of sending your time playing the harp you should adventure among our neighbors, find a comely maiden and mate with her. Surely there must be one who is worthy of being the bride of the future Lord of the Wolves and the mother of still another Lord to rule when you and I are both dead. Our ancestors, mindful of their responsibility to increase the number of Wolves and provide for an heir who would become ruler, hesitated not to marry the Pictish women when they settled here in Armorica. Your debt to the Wolves is no less than theirs. You should realize that it is your duty to provide our family with a future Lord."

"You are a young man, Father, and many years will pass before you journey to Valhalla. I admit the need of there always being a Lord to govern the Wolves, but just now it does not seem to be a matter of immediate importance. Quite some time ago we discussed the advisability of my marriage. I followed your advice, and spent some weeks away from home, entertaining the dark people with my harp and fighting their best warriors, two at a time, disarming them with no blood-letting. That caused much amusement and they marvelled at my ability to use both arms equally well in swordplay. But the maidens liked my music and swordsmanship better than they did me. Besides, I met none who quickened my heart or roused any desire for her. So I returned and continued playing the harp."

Thus ended the argument as always.

The next day a little dark man came to the town of the Wolves and sought a private conference with Lord Harold.

"I bring you news and advice," he said softly. "Some time ago I visited the ancient home of your family in Jutland."

"All I know of that place was told me by my father, Odin," Harold replied. "He was the oldest son of Holga, who was the oldest son of our Lord Balder. My father was only a boy when the family left Jutland but he remembered those last days and often talked of them. He said all the Wolves sorrowed greatly to row away and leave their Lord Balder, sitting before his house with the Thor hammer across his thighs. He must have perished in the blood-letting of the savage Norsemen. What of the home of the Wolves?"

"A few small mounds of moss-grown stones are the only traces of the town. Evidently all the houses were razed and scattered. But where stood the house which, I judge sheltered your Lord there now stands a giant oak. I slept beneath it for one night and the wind-swept branches sent me a very strange dream, for it seemed that the oak tree spoke and told me that it had once been Lord Balder, who was transmuted into a tree when his people fled. And. as his transition was completed, every house fell apart and the stones were scattered as children's drawings in the sands are made smooth and naught remains of their work when the tide flows in. Thus the Norsemen found only the giant oak."

"It may have a dream," said Harold, "but even so it is comforting to bear that Balder suffered naught at the bands of the raiders. He commanded us to flee so the Wolves would be saved from destruction. Though we have been happy here and are proud of our little town, we have not greatly increased since leaving Jutland. But tell me more of Lord Balder. If he was changed to an oak his wish to die fighting was unfulfilled."

The dark man put fingertip to fingertip and stared at the ground. "The dream was all confused," he said, "for none lived to tell what actually happened. One can but imagine the wrath of the thwarted Norsemen. There are no branches of the oak, old as it must be, lying on the ground, but near its base a large axe lies embedded. It must have been struck in a very long time ago, for the deep wound is healed and the huge blade nearly overgrown."

"With the help of time and tides the sands have almost completely buried the wrecks of many dragon ships, among which lie a large number of bleached bones. Near one crushed skull I found the Thor hammer, which I recognized at once, for it is the only one of its kind in all the world. So Lord Balder must have had his desire to kill at least one man, though how the others died or all the ships were wrecked in the harbor is a mystery none may solve. I brought the hammer with me, as it is a treasure. It is a weighty weapon which I could hardly lift, but here it is."

He handed it to Lord Harold, who examined it carefully.

"This must indeed be the hammer of Balder, for it is as the singer of songs tells of it. For many years our harpers have sung of this weapon. I will hang it over my fireplace, though I doubt if any Wolf, now or in times to come, will ever be able to use it in battle.

"When we left our old home my grandfather brought a long spear with him. One of our songs relates that it once belonged to a mighty giant killed by Balder when he won his bride. Now we have two weapons to help us remember our wonderful ancestor, the Thor hammer and the spear."

"Now for the real purpose of my visit," the little man continued; "I wish to talk with you about your son Edward. I have questioned many about him since coming to your country and all agree that he is a very unusual man; more interested in playing the harp than toying with a bride."

"That is true and causes me deep concern. In times past our men have taken their women with right hand or left; he uses both hands equally well but says he cannot find a woman to please him."

"So I've heard. Many told me of his swordplay with both hands. I have decided to help him. Summon him to us and we will determine what he thinks of my present and my advice."

Harold called for his son. "Edward," he said, "this man is very wise and is an old friend of our family. He brings you a present."

As they exchanged greetings the little dark man noted that Edward was not a tall man but broad of shoulders and stood firm and erect like all the Wolves. Unlike his father, who was blonde and blue-eyed, he was black-haired and brown of eye with swart skin, the heritage of his Pictish mother.

Then the little man handed Edward a sword, saying, "This sword was made in Gobi by a clever smith. When the blade was cherry-hot he tempered it by plunging it into dragon's blood. He graved on it a legend which you cannot read, but it says, 'I cut but never break'. The two handles are fashioned from the horns of unicorns. You probably know the old superstition, that if a virgin touches a unicorn she is safe from all men. It was an odd conceit to place such handles on such a blade."

Lord Harold said, "Give me the sword." He held it carefully and felt the cutting edges. "This is the most peculiar sword I ever saw. I admit the double edges are sharp; and it was well tempered by that smith in Gobi, which place I never heard of. Also this is the first time I ever talked to one who know of dragons and unicorns, but this is not strange, for the Wolves are not wanderers. What makes me marvel is that there is a handle at each end. I cannot see how a man could fight with such a weapon. Perhaps my son will be able to solve this mystery," and he passed the sword to his son.

The young man took the sword in both hands. Then, holding it with his right hand, he pulled a longhair from his dark locks and very gently brought it first against one blade and then the other. The cut hairs fell to the ground.

"It is a sharp sword," be said. "I thank the giver, though I am puzzled as to why he gave it to me or how he knew I am adept in use of both hands. In swordplay I could not use a shield, as I must hold the sword with both hands. My enemy would come at me with a down- striking blow while I would simply hold sword high in the air over my head. His sword would strike my weapon and be cut in two. At least it would if the words graved on it are true. He would then be at my mercy. That is the only way I know to use such an unusual sword in either play or combat."

"Your son has the right idea," the little man remarked to Lord Harold. "Now for the advice. He should journey directly east. At the beginning of the fifth day of his wandering he will find that which will both please and interest him. He will take with him no other weapon save the sword, no armor, and only sufficient food for the five days of going and the five days of returning."

"Who rules the Wolves, Edward?" asked Harold.

"You are their Lord, Sire."

"And when I command what do they do?"

"They obey."

"Then this is my command. Tomorrow leave home and in every way follow the advice of this rare friend. I trust you will return safely, for if evil befalls you then the ruling line of our family is broken, for you have neither wife nor son to carry on."

Edward took the sword and, bowing low, left the two men.

"Nothing will happen to him," said the little dark man. "I have always cared for the Wolves. In a manner of speaking they are my kinfolk, for Lord Balder married one of my daughters."

"How can that be?" asked the puzzled Lord. "He has been dead — or, as you said, changed to an oak tree — for many, many years."

"You may be right. Perhaps I only think so. Often I make statements because I think them true without being able to explain why. But I am confident your son will have a most unusual adventure and return safely. When he comes back, no matter what he says or does, think kindly of him, for everything a Wolf does is directed by the gods and they are wise. This best to obey them no matter where it leads. Perhaps I am a god. Who knows?" and he vanished, leaving Lord Harold more confused than ever.

For four days Edward traveled easteard and not once did he meet a man. On the morning of the fifth day he came to a meadow, the grass grown lush, surrounded by tall pines. Here sat a man in a golden chair, on the arm of which perched an eagle who, seeing Edward, flapped her wings and cried, "Hubelaire! Hubelaire! " or at least so it sounded to the young man. She tried to fly toward him but was prevented by a long gold chain which bound her to the chair.

The seated man looked keenly at Edward. Though he remained silent it seemed that he asked a question, which the young Wolf understood and answered.

"For four days I have walked through the dark forest, not knowing why or what I sought. But now I know. Give me the eagle!"

The man laughed. "You have the impudence and impetuosity of youth. For years I have sat in this chair brooding, while this bird has sat beside me saying only one word in an unknown tongue which I cannot understand, and thus it makes no sense whatever, but only interferes with my brooding. If you can excel me in sword-play you may have the eagle, but if I win the combat I will tie you to the other arm of the chair and, with you on one side and the eagle on the other, I will continue my brooding."

"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."

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.