THE INVASION.

Seven years had now passed since Realmah’s accession to the throne; and, in the course of that time, his power had immensely increased. Three objects had chiefly occupied his attention: the manufacture of iron, the gaining of allies, and the consolidation of his sway over distant provinces that had hitherto owned but a dubious allegiance to the Sheviri. In all of these objects he had been eminently successful; and it is not too much to say that the kingdom he ruled over was ten times as strong as it had been when the burden of government first devolved upon him.

He had urged on, with all the power of government, the new manufacture of iron. He had formed many firm alliances--as firm, at least, as alliances ever are. After paying attention, in the first instance, to the arming and disciplining of his own troops, he had bestowed similar care upon those of his allies, and had not hesitated to furnish the choice bands of those allies, upon whom he could most rely, with weapons which had been made in his own forges.

There was great murmuring amongst his people upon this point. What a large mind it takes to be profoundly generous! and nations are mostly less generous even than individual men. But few cared to speak out openly against anything that Realmah had set his heart upon; for was he not Realmah-Lelaipah-Mu--Realmah the Foreseeing Youth? And almost all his subjects acknowledged that it was not once, or twice, or thrice, that this man, their King, had been right, and those who opposed him wrong; but that his words had uniformly proved to be the words of prudence and of wisdom. Even Condore, who was now an old man, joining the peevishness of age to the confirmed habit of prophesying evil, ceased to have any weight with his fellow-countrymen, though he did not cease on every occasion to foretell that no good would come of whatever was proposed. For had he not once prophesied that good would come; and, being mistaken, did he not take care never again to prophesy a good result? Realmah was wont to say to his courtiers, with a smile, “Poor old Condore has been with us to-day, and has told us, in words which once or twice before I have heard from him, that what my government proposes will not succeed. We needed but this confirmation to act upon our resolve; for has the good Condore ever prophesied that it will thunder on the left hand, that it has not impertinently thundered on the right?” This was not true, for Condore had often been right in his forebodings; but this was the way in which Realmah chose to put it.

Meanwhile, what had the men of the North been doing? It is not known to us; but we may conjecture that disputes amongst themselves had exhausted for a time their warlike energies, and diverted their attention from the conquest of the South. Whatever was the cause, it is certain that the dreaded invasion from the North had not occurred during these seven years. The prudent mind of Realmah had not, however, been the less solicitous on that account. He had never doubted that this invasion would come in his time; and not a day had passed in which he had not done something in the way of preparation to encounter it.

Realmah was much given to a splendid hospitality. This hospitality was caused not only by his liberal nature, but also by that spirit of melancholy which ever encompassed him. It is often supposed that the most melancholy among the sons of men retire into privacy to indulge that melancholy; but, on the other hand, it may frequently be observed, especially if they are in a great public position, that they surround themselves with a multitude, in order to chase away the dark thoughts of their own souls. Thus it was with Cortes; thus it was with Wallenstein, and with many others who have played a great part in the world’s affairs.

It was one day, early in the spring of the eighth year of his reign, that Realmah sat at the head of his royal table, surrounded by many of his best friends and most trusted councillors. The King’s jester sat at his left hand, and rejoiced to see that every now and then his ready jests provoked a faint kind of smile from the weary monarch.

The feast was not concluded when, from the further part of the hall, there arose an unaccustomed murmur, and then a sudden silence. The crowd opened, and there advanced towards Realmah a man, not clad in festal robes, but dusty, toil-worn, travel-stained. He approached the King hastily, and whispered in his ear the ominous words: “They have come. Through the Pass of Koraun they are pouring into the Vale of Avildama by countless thousands.”

He had hardly given his report when another messenger in like guise entered the great hall, and, rushing through the crowd, approached the King, breathing into his ear similar intelligence,--with this addition, that the enemy were accompanied by women and children, flocks and herds; and that the whole host did not appear to be less than 250,000 souls.

Realmah rose from his seat with alacrity, and, with a loud voice and a most cheerful countenance, announced the news to the assembled guests and servitors.

“This is a day,” he said, “that will ever be memorable in our annals. For years we have been awaiting in anxiety this attack; and, now that it has come, I feel all the relief that there must ever be when suspense is turned into certainty. After the defeat of these hordes (and of that defeat I am well assured), such peace and joy as we have never known--at least, such as I have never known--will be ours for the glad future. But now to Council; and, meanwhile, do all of you spread the joyful tidings throughout the city.”

Thus, like a great commander and politic statesman, did Realmah simulate a joy he was far from feeling, and throw forth a light of hope which was but dimly reflected in the sombre recesses of his own mind.

To both of the messengers he gave what he knew would be considered great largesse, thanking them publicly for their vigilance, and bidding them spread the good news throughout the city. Drawing his sword, he presented that to the first messenger; and to the second he gave his own goblet, ornamented with amber.[27]

Footnote 27:

It has surprised antiquaries to find that the inhabitants of the Lake cities possessed amber; and it has been conjectured that this amber came by trade of some kind with the Baltic.

The feast was broken up, and the Council met at once. The first thought of Realmah, on hearing this disastrous news, had been a determination to get rid of the greater part of his Council, and to conduct the war in the plenitude of despotic authority.

When, therefore, he met the Council, he did not allow the councillors to speak, but gave out his own views as if they were not for a moment to be gainsaid, or even questioned.

He then told them frankly that they would at first be beaten at all points; and that the only question was, to exhaust the enemy’s forces by the sacrifice of greater numbers on their own side. He explained to them that that was his policy. He was not for doing anything ungenerous; but the fate of the South hung upon what he was doing. They must not, therefore, scruple to shed the blood of their tributaries and their allies, as they would their own. The war would have a successful issue if they could sacrifice a hundred of their own lives, or of the lives of their tributaries and allies, for every thirty of the enemy.

He gave special missions to almost all the members of the Council, retaining only three with him. These three were Delaimah-Daree, the man of many resources; Londardo, the man of unlimited daring; and Llama-Mah, Realmah’s flatterer and dependant. The King felt nearly sure that he should have his own way in this diminished Council; and secretly resolved, if he were in the least degree thwarted by them, to dismiss them also upon foreign service, and to take the command alone.

Before concluding the business of the Council, he gave general orders for an illumination of the town of Abibah, such as that which was held in the eighth month of the year, in honour of Rotondarah, the god of thunder and of storms.

He also ordered those councillors who were to proceed upon missions to various parts of the kingdom, and to the territories of their allies, to signalize their arrival by similar illuminations in the various towns to which they were ordered to proceed.

After the Council had broken up, he went to his own house, which, from motives of policy, he had always retained, and where he often resided--to show that he did not personally care for grandeur--and, walking up and down the balcony for hours, he revolved the whole conduct of the war.

Ah me! how different are the thoughts of men in this perplexed world from what those thoughts would be if men were left to themselves, and were not perpetually molested by their fellow-men! Here was Realmah, who loved the life of every living creature, who would stoop to save the life of an insect which had become embarrassed in running water; and yet his sole thought that moonlight night, as he paced up and down the balcony, was how he could most advantageously sacrifice the lives of his subjects so as to insure the greatest destruction in the ranks of the enemy.

“Were I resolved to die,” he said to himself, “poor creature as I am in battle, they could not kill me without my having at least slain one of the enemy. I will give a great banquet to-morrow, to the tribe of the fishermen and the ironworkers, and upon them I will impress the idea that no man must perish without having slain one at least of these accursed Northmen.”

With this consolatory idea, the great King at last sought the repose that was so much needed for him.