Part 5

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 {031}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 {032}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 {033}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 {034}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 {035}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.

Then, one fine morning, he rushed out with a number of his followers, ripping and goring right and left, and driving everything before him. It so happened that Smith was not with the workmen that day. Probably he had gone on some errand for the Druidess; but, however this may have been, the result was the same, and, in the absence of {036}our hero, the Boar had it all his own way. In consequence of this triumph, the monster gave a great feast of hogwash and potatoes to all his subjects, and their grunting afterwards was so loud and horrible that it was remembered for a period of many years in the neighbourhood of Windsor.

Smith, as you may suppose, was thoroughly disgusted when he found what had occurred, and all the more so as he felt that his presence might, and probably would, have prevented the misfortune. Nothing daunted, however, he resolved to repair the mischief as quickly as possible. He sent far and wide throughout the country for all the white horses which could possibly be secured, and begged as many of their owners as felt martially inclined to accompany their steeds. This was done under the sage advice of the toads, to whom it was well known that to white animals beyond all others has been given the power of resisting the influences of magic arts. The knowledge that Smith’s movement was supported by the Druids materially operated to promote the success of his request. From all quarters white horses and horsemen came flocking to the appointed place on Ascot Heath, and upon a certain day which he had fixed the leader found himself at the head of a numerous body of cavalry. He next proceeded to arm every man with a long wooden spear pointed with iron, and having given them their watchword and rallying cry, “Bacon,” marched boldly towards the forest. And now began the contest with the powers of magic.

The Boar sent forth his legions, having for the nonce converted hundreds of pigs into creatures bearing the form {037}of man, whilst his own regiment of sharp-tusked boars acted as a reserve force in their own shape and form. They could not, however, prevail against the white army, protected by the wisdom of the toads and backed by the incantations of the saintly Druids. After a combat along the whole line which lasted for some hours, the magic forces of the Boar gave way on every side. Their resistance, indeed, stout and dogged as it had been at first, gave way at the sight of an enormous ham, boiled and ready for use, which at a critical moment of the contest was displayed by the orders of Smith at the top of a long pole. No porcine nature could withstand this spell, sure be-tokener of the fate of every vanquished and slaughtered pig. The enchanted animals (as the toads had privately told Smith would certainly be the case) resumed their natural shape by hundreds at the sight of this wondrous emblem, and fled with wild grunts into the forest, followed by the victorious army. On every side the white horsemen rode down the flying porkers, impaling them on their iron-tipped spears, and shouting “Bacon” until the forest rang again with the martial sound. Smith himself performed prodigies of valour, overthrowing and slaying numbers of the foe, and greatly assisting in bringing about the complete and terrible defeat which befell the forces of the Boar.

So it was that towards eventide the battle was practically over, for not a pig but had resumed his natural shape, not a foe but had either fallen or fled into the deep recesses of the forest and sought safety in ignominious concealment from the face of day. Yet fast within his lair remained the Great Boar himself, and no one {038}had as yet beheld him upon that day so fatal to his tribe. Why or wherefore he had not headed his troops is more than I can say. One would have supposed that his presence would have encouraged them, and that his continued seclusion within his lair must have been the most foolish proceeding on the part of the chief of an army who had so much at stake. But whatever reason he had, it is certain that he never appeared, and his people were slaughtered right and left without his ever coming to the rescue.

Smith, however, was not to be treated in this manner by his mighty enemy. Unless the latter were dealt with in some satisfactory way, he knew well enough that his victory would have been all in vain, and that the evil with which his country had so long been afflicted would be by no means ended. He hesitated not, therefore, to push boldly forward into the heart of the forest, and seek the tyrant in his lair. The wood was uncommonly thick, and progress extremely difficult. Gigantic brambles formed an almost insuperable barrier, twining round the legs of the traveller in a manner remarkably disagreeable, and forming at certain places an almost impregnable network of defence. The bushes, too, grew thickly where the brambles did not, huge oaks stood about wherever there was any space clear from bush and bramble, strange weeds cropped up around, and altogether the place was as wild and difficult of access as you can well imagine. Yet Smith pushed bravely on, with some of his chosen companions, until he suddenly found himself in an open space some sixty feet square, almost entirely surrounded by oak-trees, plentifully encircled by ivy of the most luxuriant growth. As he entered {039}this space, a deep voice uttered these words in terrible accents:--

“How dares the child of loathsome toad. Unasked to enter this abode? No longer press thy childish whim, Back! or I tear thee limb from limb.”

The followers of the great deliverer were visibly staggered by these awful words, more especially as the speaker was nowhere to be seen. Smith himself, however, being perfectly prepared for some such proceeding on the part of his enemy, was not for a moment disconcerted in the smallest degree. By the advice of the powers which had directed and shielded him throughout the whole of his arduous enterprise, he had armed himself with an oaken staff, cut from a sacred tree which grew near to my banks, and which was held in peculiar estimation by the people. This staff, having been dipped in my river, and afterwards heavily tipped with lead, was a weapon of considerable power, and the gallant Smith brandished it on high above his head as he replied to his invisible enemy in the following words:--

“Boast loud and long, thou villain Boar, And trust in dealings magic; More humbly shalt thou shortly roar, And meet an ending tragic.

Come forth and try! I thee defy, By mighty aid of Druid, And this good staff, which lately I Have dipt in Thames’s fluid.

Come forth, I say! No more delay! You rascal! what, you won’t stir? I brand thee, in the face of day, A vile and hideous monster! ”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when a horrible {040}noise between a grunt and a roar burst upon the ears of the attacking party, and the Great Boar of Windsor broke from his lair and rushed furiously upon his enemies. His eyes glared like fireballs--his bristles were erect and awful to see--his tusks seemed sharper and more enormous than any one would have supposed possible--and his whole appearance evinced such a mixture of strength and ferocity as might well have caused the stoutest heart to quail before his approach. Fury was in his countenance, and frightful was the expression of his face as he charged headlong down upon Smith, with a force which it seemed impossible to withstand. Uttering his war-cry in the shape of a suppressed but horrid grunt, he held his head low, and was evidently bent upon ripping up the intruder with the least possible delay.

To be ripped up, however, was by no means Smith’s intention. Springing hastily aside, he dealt the Boar a blow with his staff as he passed in the mad career which he was unable to check. The blow, dealt with the hero’s full force upon the back of the monster’s head, changed his grunt into a squeak of pain, but otherwise had no visible effect upon him. Rendered doubly furious by the failure of his first rush, the Boar now turned upon some of Smith’s companions, upon whom he trusted to have wreaked an easy vengeance. But, with admirable sagacity, Smith had foreseen the possibility of such an occurrence, and, instructed by the toads, had carefully provided against it. Each of his followers who had entered the lair, besides being armed with spears as I have described, had in his hand a short stick upon the end of which was fastened a sausage.

The {041}order given was, that, if the Boar attacked, this should simply be held out in front of the person in danger, which order you may well believe was faithfully obeyed. The effect was certainly marvellous. At the sight of each sausage the Boar’s powers appeared to fail him, and he turned with a disappointed groan to find another victim. One man, indeed, found the protection useless, and was miserably ripped up and destroyed by the monster. A momentary panic prevailed, but it was fortunately remembered that the luckless individual had brought his own sausage from his own manufactory, and that sundry of his neighbours who had lost their cats had more than once thrown the darkest suspicion upon the character and quality of the article which he supplied. It is therefore probable that the virtue inherent in sausages made from the lawful animal was wanting in his case, and that he perished justly as a deceiver of his fellow-men.

But the Boar could make no head against a body of men so well prepared for his assault. He foamed at the mouth--he roared--he grunted--he howled--he rushed madly to and fro--but all his efforts were useless. Then once more he turned himself round and rushed with a frantic force upon the leader of his foes. Smith was at that instant standing close to an oak-tree, and so sudden was the Boar’s attack that he had barely time to avoid it by a vigorous spring which he made, catching as he did so a branch above his head, and swinging himself up out of harm’s way.

The Boar, meanwhile, unable to stop himself, rushed with great force against the tree. To his infinite surprise, and indeed to the astonishment of all who saw it, the {042}hard surface of the oak yielded to his touch, his tusks penetrated the bark, and he remained there firm and fast, caught by the head and held as if by a vice. At the same moment a strain of sweet and solemn music burst upon the ears of those who were present, and from behind the oak-tree stepped the figure of the Priestess Bertha, clad as she had been on the previous occasion of her addressing the people, save that she wore upon her head a wreath of mistletoe, bright and glistening with berries. Walking up to the still struggling Boar, she calmly sat down upon him, just as if he had been a camp-stool, upon which he groaned audibly, but remained perfectly still. Then the Priestess proceeded to speak:--

“The Boar is vanquished in the fight, And ended is his former might. Cursed by his yoke no more ye be, But Windsor’s children shall be free.

Yet be ye cautious, firm, and wise, Or other foes may still arise, And ye may scarcely yet escape From boars in brute or human shape.