To-night was the bridal-feast. To-morrow morning the church was to hallow the union, and after that Hannibal Grylls was to lead home his bride, among a gallant company.
And as they ate and drank, and harped and piped, there came into that hall four shabbily drest men,--one of them a short, broad fellow, with black elf-locks and a red beard,--and sat them down sneakingly at the very lowest end of all the benches.
In hospitable Cornwall, especially on such a day, every guest was welcome; and the strangers sat peaceably, but ate nothing, though there was both hake and pilchard within reach.
Next to them, by chance, sat a great lourdan of a Dane, as honest, brave, and stupid a fellow as ever tugged at oar; and after a while they fell talking, till the strangers had heard the reason of this great feast, and all the news of the country side.
“But whence did they come, not to know it already; for all Cornwall was talking thereof?”
“O, they came out of Devonshire, seeking service down west, with some merchant or rover, being seafaring men.”
The stranger with the black hair had been, meanwhile, earnestly watching the Princess, who sat at the board’s head. He saw her watching him in return, and with a face sad enough.
“What should the bride weep for, at such a merry wedding?” asked he of his companion.
“O, cause enough;” and he told bluntly enough the Princess’s story. “And what is more,” said he, “the King of Waterford sent a ship over last week, with forty proper lads on board, and two gallant Holders with them, to demand her; but for all answer, they were put into the strong house, and there they lie, chained to a log, at this minute. Pity it is and shame, I hold, for I am a Dane myself; and pity, too, that such a bonny lass should go to an unkempt Welshman like this, instead of a tight smart Viking’s son, like the Waterford lad.”
The stranger answered nothing, but kept his eyes upon the Princess, till she looked at him steadfastly in return.
She turned pale and red again; but after a while she spoke:--
“There is a stranger there; and what his rank may be I know not; but he has been thrust down to the lowest seat, in a house that used to honor strangers, instead of treating them like slaves. Let him take this dish from my hand, and eat joyfully, lest when he goes home he may speak scorn of bridegroom and bride, and our Cornish weddings.”