I have sometimes wondered if everyone realizes how startingly independent and isolated a historical fact is to the young reader. It has happened before his remembrance, and that alone is enough to put it into another world. It is outside of its own experience. It has appeared to him by no familiar road, but from unknown regions of space. The object of this book is to bring together stories of the most important movements in the history of Europe during the Middle Ages, and to make familiar the names of the most important figures in those scenes. I have endeavored to weave a tapestry in which with due color may be traced the history of the rise and fall of the various nationalities, and the circumstances, and mode of life of each, in short, to give the young reader an approximation to the background for the study of his country's history, which a wide reading gives to a man. Ever March Tappan End of the Preface Chapter 1 of Heroes of the Middle Ages This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Heroes of the Middle Ages by Eva M. Tappan Chapter 1 Alaric the Visigoths, Besieges Rome But Thou Imperial City, Thou hast stood, in greatness once, in the close now and tears, a mighty name for evil or for good, even in the loneliness of thy widowed ears, Thou that hast gazed, as the world hurried by, upon its headlong course with sad prophetic eye. If an Italian country boy had been taken to visit Rome 1500 years ago, he would have found much to see. There were temples and theatres and baths. There were aqueducts, sometimes with arches 100 feet high, stretching far out into the country to bring pure water to the city. There was an open space known as the Forum, where the people came together for public meetings. And in this space were beautiful pillars and arches and statues of famous Romans. Around the Forum were palaces and temples and the Senate House. And directly in front of the Senate House was a platform, on which speakers stood when they wished to address the people. The platform was called the Rostrum, which is a Latin word, meaning the beak of a warship, because it was adorned with the beaks of ships, which the Romans had captured. Another open space was the Great Race Course, the Circus Maximus, in which 215,000 people could sit and watch leaping, wrestling, boxing, food races, and especially the famous Four Horse Chariot races. There was the Coliseum too, where gladiators, generally captives or slaves, fought with one another or with wild beasts. The Roman streets were narrow and they seemed still narrower because many houses were built with their upper stories projecting over the lower. But in those narrow streets there was always something of interest. Sometimes it was a wedding procession with torches and songs and the music of the flute. Sometimes it was a funeral train with not only the friends of the dead men, but also trumpeters and pipers. In the long line walked hired actors wearing vaccine masks made to imitate the faces of the dead person's ancestors. Early in the morning one could see crowds of clients, each one hastening to the home of his patron, some wealthy man, who was expected to give him either food or money. Rome was built upon seven hills, and most of these men of wealth lived either on the Palatine or the Esquiline hill. After a patron had received his clients, he ate a light meal and then attended to his business, if he had any. About noon he ate another meal and had enough. When he awoke he played ball or took some other exercise. Then came his bath and this was quite lengthy affair, for there was not only hot and cold bathing, but there was rubbing and scrapping and anointing. At the public baths were hot rooms and cold rooms and rooms where friends might sit and talk together, or lie on couches and rest. Dinner, the principal meal of the day, came at two or three o'clock. Oysters were often served first, together with radishes, lettuce, sorrel and pickled cabbage. These were to increase the keenness of the appetite. Then came fish, flesh and fowl, course after course. Next came cakes and fruits and last wine followed, mixed with water and spices. The formal banquets were much more elaborate than this, for a good host must load his table with as many kinds of expensive food as possible, and a guest, who wished to show his appreciation, must eat as much as he could. The whole business of a feast was eating, and there was seldom any witty conversation. No one sang any songs or told any merry stories. Such was the life of the wealthy Romans. Moreover, they kept hosts of slaves to save themselves from every extortion. Their ancestors had been brave, patriotic folk, who loved their country and thought it was an honor to fight for it. But these idle, luxurious people were not willing to give up their comfort and leisure and to enter the army. Hired soldiers could defend their fatherland, they thought. The time had come when Rome needed to be defended. In the early days it had been only a tiny settlement, but it had grown in power till the Romans ruled all Europe, south of the Rhine and the Danube, also Asia Minor, northern Africa and Britain. Nearly all the people of Europe are thought to have come from Central Asia. One tribe after another moved to the westward, from their early home into Europe, and when the hunting and fishing became poor in their new settlements, they went on still farther west. The Celts came first, pushing their ways through Central Europe and finally into France, Spain and the British Isles. Later, the Latvians and Greeks took possession of Southern Europe. Meanwhile, the Celts had to move faster than they wished into France, Spain and Britain, because another race, the Totens, had followed close behind them and taken possession of Central Europe. These Totens, who lived a wild, restless half-savage life, roamed back and forth between the Danube and the shores of the Baltic Sea. They consisted of many different tribes, but the Romans called them all Germans. For many years, the Germans had tried to cross the Danube and the Rhine and break into the Roman Empire, but the Roman armies had driven them back and had destroyed their rude villages again and again. Sometimes, however, the Germans were so stubborn in their efforts to get into the Empire that the Roman emperors found it convenient to admit certain tribes as allies. As time went on, a tribe of Totens, called Goth, became the most troublesome of all to the Romans. Part of them lived on the shores of the Black Sea and were called Ostrogoth or Eastern Goth, while those who lived near the shores of the Danube were called Visigoths or Western Goth. Towards the end of the 4th century, the Visigoths found themselves between two fires. For another people, the Huns were driving them into the Roman Empire and the Romans were driving them back. The Visigoths could not fight both nations, and in despair they sent ambassadors to the Romans. Let us live on your side of the river, they pleaded. Give us food and we will defend the frontier for you. The bargain was made, but it was broken by both parties. It had been agreed that the Goths should give up their arms, but they bribed the Roman officers and kept them. The Romans had promised to furnish food, but they did not keep their word. Hungry warriors whose weapons in their hands make fierce enemies. The Goths revolted and the Roman Emperor was slain. As the years passed, the Goths grew stronger and the Romans weaker. By and by a man named Alaric became leader of the Visigoths. He and his followers had fought under Roman commanders. He had been in Italy twice, and he began to wonder whether it would not be possible for him and his brave warriors to fight their way into the heart of the Roman Empire. One night he dreamed that he was driving a golden chariot through the streets of Rome, and that the Roman citizens were thronging about him and shouting, Hail, O Emperor! Hail! Another time when he was passing by a sacred groove he heard, or thought he heard, a voice cry, You will make your way to the city. The city meant Rome, of course, and now Alaric called his chief men together and laid his plans before them. First they would go to Greece, he said. The warlike Goths shouted for joy, for in the cities of Greece were treasures of golden silver, and these would fall into the hands of the victors. They went on boldly, and before long Alaric and his followers were feasting in Athens, while great masses of treasure were waiting to be distributed among the soldiers. The Greeks had forgotten how brave their ancestors had been, and Alaric had no trouble in sweeping over the country. At last, however, the generous Tiliho was sent with troops from Rome, and now Alaric would have been captured or slain if he had not succeeded in slipping away. Before this the Roman Empire had been divided into two parts, the Western and the Eastern. The capital of the Western part was Rome, that of the Eastern was Constantinople. The young man of 18 who was emperor in the Eastern part of the Empire became jealous of Tiliho. If he wins more victories, he will surely try to make himself emperor, thought the foolish boy, and he concluded that it would be an exceedingly wise move to make Alaric governor of Eastern Illyricum. This was like setting a hungry cat to watch a particularly tempting little mouse, for Illyricum stretched along the Adriatic Sea and just across the narrow water lay Italy. Of course, after a few years, Alaric set out for Italy. The boy emperor in the Western part of the Empire ran away as fast as he could go. He would have been captured had not Tiliho appeared. Then Alaric and his warriors held a council. Shall we withdraw and make sure of the treasures that we have taken, or shall we push on to Rome? Question the warriors. I will find in Italy either a kingdom or a grave, declared the chief, but Tiliho was upon them and they were obliged to retreat. Then the boy emperor returned to Rome to celebrate the victory, and declared that he had never thought of such a thing as being afraid. Nevertheless, he hurried away to a safe fortress again, and left Rome to take care of itself. Alaric waited for six years, but meanwhile he watched everything that went on in Italy. The boy emperor had become a man of 25, but he was a foolish as ever, and now, like the emperor in the East, he concluded that Tiliho meant to become ruler of the Empire, and he murdered the only man who could have protected it. This was Alaric's opportunity, and he marched straight up to the walls of Rome, shut off food from the city, and commanded it to surrender. The luxurious Romans were indignant that a mere barbarian should think of conquering their city. Even after they were weakened by famine and pestilence, they told Alaric that if he would give them generous terms of surrender, they might yield. But if not, they said, sound your trumpets and make ready to meet a countless multitude. Alaric laughed and retorted. The sicker the hay, the easier it's moved. He would leave Rome, he declared, if they would bring him all the gold and silver of the city. Finally, however, he agreed to accept five thousand pounds of gold, thirty thousand pounds of silver, four thousand robes of silk, three thousand pieces of scarlet clothes, and three thousand pounds of pepper.  This time he put the prefect of the city upon the throne. But a little later he came a third time, and then camped before the walls of Rome. The trumpets blew blast after blast, and the invaders poured into the city. Alaric bathed his men spare both churches and people, but the ghost killed all who opposed them, or whom they suspected of concealing their wealth. Then they went away loaded with gold and silver and silk and jewels. They were in no haste to leave Italy with its wine and oil and cattle and corn, and moreover Alaric was not satisfied with second Rome. He meant to get possession of Sicily, and then make an expedition to Africa. Suddenly all these plans came to an end, for he was taken ill and died. His followers turned aside a little river from its channel, wrapped the body of their dead leader in the richest of the Roman rubes, and made his grave in the riverbed. They heaped around it the most splendid of their treasures, and then turned back the waters of the stream, to flow over it forever. Finally lest the grave should become known, and be robbed or treated with dishonor, they put to death the multitude of captives, whom they had forced to do this work. End of chapter 1. Chapter 2 OF HEROES OF THE MIDDLE AGES This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. HEROES OF THE MIDDLE AGES by Eva M. Tappen Chapter 2. ATILA THE HUN IS DEFEATED AT SHALONDS While Alaric was winning his victories, the Huns had built on the banks of the Danube what they looked upon as their capital. The homes of the poorer folk were huts of mud or straw, but the king Attila and his chief men lived in houses of wood, with columns finely carved and polished. There was plenty of some kind of luxury in this strange capital, for the tables of the chiefs were loaded with golden dishes, and swords, shoes, and even the trappings of the horses, who leaned with gold and sparkled with jewels. King Attila, however, would have no such elegance. I lived as did my ancestors, he declared, and in his wooden palace he wore only the plainest of clothes.  Nevertheless, he was proud of his wealth, because it had been taken from enemies, and so was a proof of the bravery and daring of his people. This king of a barbarous tribe meant to become the greatest of conquerors. Even in the early years of his reign he had hoped to do this. It is said that one of his shepherds noticed one day that the foot of an ox was wet with blood. He searched for the course and discovered a sharp point of steel sticking up from the ground. He began to dig around it, and so saw that it was a sword. That must go to the king, he said to himself, and he set out for the palace. King Attila examined the weapon closely and declared, This is the sword of Tyr. I will wear it as long as I live, for no one who wears the sword of the war god can ever know defeat. When Attila had made his preparations, he set out with his followers to conquer the world. Before long Constantinople was in his power. The emperor in the east called himself the invincible Augustus, but he could not meet Attila, and to save his city and his life he had to give the barbarians 6,000 pounds of gold and a large tract of land on the Roman side of the Danube. Wherever Attila went he was successful. His ferocious barriers rolled like the wind. They would dash down upon some village, kill the inhabitants, snatch up whatever there was of booty, and level the homes of the people so completely that it was said a horse could gallop over the ruins without danger of tumbling. In the far east he was thought to be a magician. The Huns have a wonder stone, declared the folk of that region, and whenever they choose they can raise storms of wind or rain. It is no wonder that men trembled at the sound of Attila's name and shuddered at the thought of the scores of God, as he called himself, when they heard any strange sound in the night. Attila and his Huns are the children of demons, they whispered, and those who had seen them were ready to believe that this was true. They were of a different family from the Goth and Celts and Romans. They were short and thick-set, with big heads and dark swarthy complexions. Their eyes were small and bright, and so deep set that they seemed to be far back in their skulls. Their turned-up noses were so short and broad that it was commonly said they had no noses, but only two holes in their faces. Although Attila had made peace with the Emperor in the east, before long he found an excuse for invading his empire.  When he came to Orleans he expected the city to yield as the others had done, but the people had just made their fortifications stronger, and they had no idea of surrendering even to the terrible Huns. But before long Attila had got possession of the suburbs, he had weakened the walls with his battering rams, and the people of Orleans began to tremble with fear. Those who could not bear arms were at the outers praying, and their bishop was trying to encourage them by declaring that God would never abandon those who put their trust in him.  What did you see? He asked when the messenger returned. Nothing was a reply. A little later the man was sent again, but he had nothing of comfort to report. A third time he climbed the rampart, and now he ran back to Bishop, crying. A cloud threw the cloud on the horizon, as if made by an army marching. It is the aid of God, the bishop exclaimed. It is the aid of God, repeated the people, and they fought with fresh courage. The cloud grew larger and larger. Now and then there was a flush of steel or the gleam of war banner. The bishop was right. It was the brave Roman general Aetius with his army, and Orleans was saved. Attila withdrew to the plain of Chalons. The Romans and their former foes, the Goths, had united against him, and on this plain was fought one of the most bloody battles ever known. It raged from the middle of the afternoon until night, and some of the people of the country believed that in the darkness the spirits of those who had fallen arose and kept up the fight in mid-air. Attila retreated across the Rhine. If he had won the day, the heathen hunts, instead of the Christian Germans, would have become the most powerful people of Europe. That is why this conflict at Chalons is counted as one of the decisive battles of the world. After a winter's rest, Attila started to invade Italy. He meant to go straight to Rome, but the strong city of Aquileia was in his way. After a long siege, however, it euded. Some of the inhabitants of that and other conquered cities fled to a group of marshy islands, where Venice now stands. City after city he captured and burned. But this wild hun was not without a sense of humor. While he was strolling through the royal palace in Milan, he came across a picture showing Roman emperors on their thrones, with Schizian chiefs kneeling before them and paying them tribute of bags of gold. Attila did not draw the sword of tour and cut the picture to fragments. He simply sent for painter and said, Put those kneeling men upon the thrones and paint the emperors kneeling to pay tribute. The Romans were thoroughly frightened, for now Attila was near their city. Aetius was calm and brave, but he was without troops. Then Pope Leo I, courageous as the Bishop of Orleans, went forth to meet the hunts and begged Attila to spare the city. Attila euded, but no one knows why. A legend arose that the Apostles Peter and Paul appeared to him and declared that he should die at once, if he did not grant the prayers of Leo. It is certain that before he started for Rome, his friends had said to him, Beware, remember that Alaric conquered Rome and died. He had no fear of the sword, but he may have been afraid of such warnings as this. Whatever was the reason, he agreed to spare Rome if the Romans would pay him a large ransom. The gold was paid, and Attila returned to his wooden palace on the Danube. Soon after this he suddenly died. His followers cut off their hair and gashed their faces, so that blood rather than tears might flow for him. His body was enclosed in three coffins, one of gold, one of silver, and one of iron. It was buried at night with a waste amount of treasure. Then, as in the case of Alaric, the captives who had dug the grave were put to death. His followers belonged to different races. Several chieftains tried to become king, but no one of them was strong enough to hold the tribes together, and they were soon scattered, and the power of the hunts declined forever. Chapter 3 Chapter 3 OF HEROES OF THE MIDDLE AGES This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. HEROES OF THE MIDDLE AGES by Eva M. Tappen Chapter 3 GENSERIC ZEVANDEL SACS ROME A few years after the death of Attila, Rome was once more in the hands of an invader, GENSERIC ZEVANDEL. The Vandels were great wanderers. They slowly made their way from the shores of the Baltic Sea to the Danube, passed through what is now France, and went south into Spain. Only eight or nine miles from Spain, just across what is now the Strait of Gibraltar, lay Africa. Northern Africa belonged to Rome. It was one of her most valued provinces because, while Italy could not raise enough grain to feed her people, Africa could supply all that was needed. GENSERIC launched to add Africa to his domain, and he was more fortunate than most men who wished to invade a country. For after a little while he received a cordial invitation to come to Africa and bring his soldiers with him. The invitation was given by no less a man than the brave general Boniface, who had been appointed governor of the province. This is the way it came about. Aetius was jealous of the success of Boniface, and he persuaded the mother of the child emperor to send the governor a letter recalling him. Then he himself wrote a letter to his friend Boniface with the warning that the Empress was angry with him, and he would lose his head if he risked it in Rome. Boniface was in hard position. He concluded that the safest thing for him to do was to remain where he was, and asked Genserek to help him to hold Africa. Genserek did not wait to be urged. He hurried across the Strait of Gibraltar and began his carrier of violence. A wandel conquest was more severe than that of any other tribe, for the wandels seemed to delight in ruining everything that came into their power. They killed men, women and children, their burnt houses and churches, and they destroyed whatever treasures they could not carry away with them. Some said that whenever they conquered a country, they cut down every fruit tree within its limits. This is why people who seem to enjoy spoiling things are sometimes called wandels. After a while Boniface discovered how he had been tricked by Aetius, and he begged Genserek to leave the country. But the barbarian refused, and Boniface could not drive him away. Genserek and his followers settled in Africa, making the city of Carthage the capital of their kingdom, and they became a nation of pirates. They built lights with vessels, and ravaged a shore of every country where they expected to find plunder. All this time Genserek had his eyes fixed upon Italy, and again he was fortunate enough to be invited to a land which he was longing to invade. This time the widow of a murdered emperor begged him to come and avenge her wrongs. He wasted no time, but crossed the narrow sea and marched up to the walls of Rome. Behold, the gates were flung open, and once more Leo, now a hoary-headed man, came forth with his clergy, all in their priestly robes, to beg the wandels to have mercy. Genserek made some promises, but they were soon broken. For fourteen days the wandels did what they would. They were in no hurry, they had plenty of ships to carry away whatever they chose, and after they had chosen there was little but the walls remaining. They snatched a gold and silver and jewels of course, but they took also brass, copper and bronze, silk and robes, and even furniture. Works of art were nothing to them, unless they were of precious metal and could be melted. And what they did, not care to take with them, they broke or burned. The widowed empress had expected to be treated with the greatest honor, but the wandels stripped of her jewels and threw her and her two daughters on board their ships to be carried to Africa as prisoners. Genserek kept his nation together as long as he lived, and indeed those the Romans made many expeditions against the wandels. It was nearly 80 years before the pirates were conquered. Chapter 4 of Heroes of the Middle Ages This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Heroes of the Middle Ages by Eva M. Tappen. Chapter 4 The Totents and Their Myth For a long while, as we have seen, the Roman Empire had been growing weaker, and the Totents or Germans had been growing stronger. These Totents were a most interesting people. They were tall and strong with blue eyes and light hair. There were splendid fighters, and nothing made them so happy as the sound of battle cry. They cared nothing for wounds, and they felt it a disgrace for anyone to meet death quietly at home. A man should die on the feud of battle, sold the Totents, and then one of the Valkiers, the beautiful war maidens of Odin, would come and carry him on her swift horse straight to Valhalla. Her armor gleaming as she rode through the air was the flashing glow which men call the northern lights. Valhalla, they believed, was a great hall with shields and spears hanging on its walls. The bravest warriors who had ever fought on the earth were to be found there. Every morning they went out to some glorious battle. At night they came back, their wounds were healed, they drank great cups of mead, and listened to songs of deeds of valor. Odin, or Woden, king of the gods, ruled in this hall. He had a son Thor, who was sometimes called the Sunder God. Thor rode about in a chariot drawn by goats. He carried with him a mighty hammer, and this he threw at anyone who displaced him. To another son of Odin, whose sword Attila thought he had found, was the god of war. Not all the gods were Sanderers and fighters. There was Odin's wife Freya, who ruled the sunshine and the rain, and who loved fairies and flowers, and all things dainty and pretty. Then there was Freya's son, Baldur, whom everyone loved, and Loki, whom everyone feared and hated. Loki was always getting the gods into trouble, and it was he who brought about the death of Baldur. Freya had once made beasts and birds and trees, and everything on the earth that had life promised never to hurt her son. But the mistletoe was so small and harmless that she forgot it. There was a chance for Wicked Loki. It was a favorite game of the gods to shoot arrows at Baldur, for they knew that nothing would harm him. One of the gods was blind, and Loki offered to guide his hand, saying that all ought to do honor to so good a god as Baldur. In all innocence the blind one threw the twig of mistletoe that Loki gave him. Baldur fell down dead, and had to go forever to the land of gloom and darkness. The teotonic story of the creation of the earth was this. Long ago there was part of the northward a gulf of mist. In the mist was a fountain, and from the fountain there flowed twelve rivers. By and by the waters of the rivers froze, and then in the north there was nothing but a great mass of ice. Far to the southward was a world of arms and light. From this a warm wind blew upon the ice and melted it.  The cow was one day licking the whole frost and salt from the ice. When she saw the hair of a man, the next day she licked still deeper, and then she saw a man's head. On the third day a living being, strong and beautiful, had taken his place in the strange world. He was a god, and one of his children was Odin. Together the children slew Ymir. Of his body they made the earth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the mountains, of his eyebrows they made Midgard, the Mid-Earth. Odin arranged the seasons, and when the world was covered with green things growing, the gods made man of an ash tree and woman of an elder. An immense ash tree, which grew from the body of Ymir, supported the whole universe. One of its roots extended to us God, the home of the gods. One to Jotunheim, the abode of the giants, and one to Niflheim, the region of cold and darkness beneath the earth. It was believed that some day all created things would be destroyed. After this a new heaven and a new earth would be formed, in which there would be no wickedness or trouble, and gods and men would live together in peace and happiness. All these fancies had some meaning. For instance, Baldur, the beautiful, at sight of whose face all things rejoiced, represented the sunshine. Political as the Germans were in some of their fancies. They were by no means political when any fighting was to be done. They had a custom of choosing some man as leader and following him wherever he led. But the moment that he showed himself a poor commander or failed to give them a fair share of whatever spoils they had captured, they left him and sought another chief. When the time had come that the Romans were no longer willing to defend themselves, it seemed to them a most comfortable arrangement to send a messenger to some of the Toten chiefs to say, If you will help us in this war, we will give you so such gold. Unluckily for themselves, the Romans looked upon barbarians as nothing more than convenient weapons, and did not stop to think that there were men who kept their eyes open and who sooner or later would be sure to feel that there was no reason why they, as well as the Romans, should not take what they wanted if they could get it. The gods especially were always ready to give up their old ways if they found something better. And by the time Allaric invaded Italy, those who lived nearest the Roman territories had learned something of Christianity. And Ulvillas, a Greek whom they had captured in war, had translated nearly all of the Bible into their language. They had learned to enjoy some of the comforts and conveniences of the Romans. They had discovered that there were better ways of governing a nation than their haphazard fashion of following anyone who had won a victory. And they had begun to see that it was a good thing to have established cities. But if they gave up their rowing life and made their home in one place, they could no longer live by fishing and hunting, for the rivers and forests would soon be exhausted. They must cultivate the ground. We have seen how the cost had become the most powerful of all the Totonic tribes. To sow war like a people, it seemed much easier to take the cultivated ground of the Romans than to make the wild forest land into fields and gardens. These were reasons why the gods, among all the Germans, were so persistent in their invasions of the Roman Empire. There was one more reason, however, why just strong as these. It was that other tribes, even more barbarous than they, were coming from Asia and pressing upon them in order to get their land. The Romans might have found some way to save their country, but they were too busy enjoying themselves to be troubled about such matters. Their only care seemed to be to find the easiest way out of a difficulty. And when a nation is faced by powerful and determined enemies, whose hearts are not set upon a life of ease and luxury, they are sure sooner or later to be destroyed. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Heroes of the Middle Ages by Eva M. Tappen Chapter 5 The Story of the Nibelungs Many of the Goths had learned about Christianity, as had been said before, but for a long while most of the Totens believed, or half believed, in the old fables of gods and heroes. One of these, the story of the Nibelungs, was a special favorite. It was told by father to son for centuries. Then some unknown poet put it into poetry. This poem was called the Nibelungen Lied, or Song of the Nibelungs. It began with one of the evil pranks of Loki, by which the gallant knight Siegfried became owner of a vast horde of gold, once belonging to a nation of dwarfs called Nibelungs. Siegfried was rich and handsome and brave, and he rode forth into the world, not knowing that the god was accursed and would bring trouble to whoever might own it. His first adventure was in Iceland, or Iceland, where he broke through a magic ring of fire that for many years had burned around a lofty castle on the summit of a mountain. In this castle lay Brunhild, a disobedient valkyr, whom Odin had punished by putting her and the king and court who had received her into a sleep. This was to last till some hero should pass the ring of fire. Siegfried broke through, found the beautiful maiden and became betrothed to her. But after a brief period of happiness, Odin bade the hero leave Iceland and go elsewhere in search of adventures. Siegfried went next to the land of Burgundy, and there he found a new exploit awaiting him. King Gunther had heard of the beautiful Brunhild and was eager to marry her. Many a man had lost his life because of this same wish, for whoever would win her must outdo her in the games, and if he failed, both he and his attendant knights were put to death. The king and Siegfried set off for Iceland and the games began. First Brunhild threw her heavy javelin against the king's shield, but Gunther cast it back at her so powerfully that she fell to the ground. When she rose, she caught up a stone so heavy that twelve knights could hardly lift it, and hurled at an amazing distance. Then at one leap she sprang towards the stone had fallen. But Gunther threw the stone farther and leaped farther. Then the valkyr yielded and became his wife. She did not guess that it was not Gunther who had beaten her, but Siegfried. Siegfried had a magic cap of darkness, and when he put it on he became invisible, so while Gunther went through the motions it was really Siegfried who threw the javelin and hurled the stone and even carried Gunther in his arms far beyond the leap of the valkyr. So it was that Brunhild became the wife of Gunther. As for Siegfried, an enchantment had been thrown about him, and he had entirely forgotten that he had ever ridden through the ring of fire or seen Brunhild before. The hand of the king's sister, the gentle, lovely Krimhild, was to be his reward for his service to King Gunther, and now both weddings were celebrated. Gunther and Brunhild remained in Burgundy, and Siegfried carried Krimhild to his kingdom in the jute land. Even if Siegfried had forgotten Brunhild, she had not forgotten him, and she meant to have her revenge. She persuaded Gunther to invite Siegfried and Krimhild to Burgundy. It was easy for a quarrel to arise between the two queens, and Hagen, angle of Krimhild, took the part of Brunhild. He pretended that war had arisen against Gunther, and Siegfried agreed to fight for his host. Krimhild begged her uncle to help Siegfried whenever he was in peril, and the treacherous Hagen replied, Surely, but first tell me where his chief peril lies. Is there someone way by which he may most easily lose his life? Yes, answered Krimhild. He once slew a dragon and based himself in its blood. Therefore no weapon can harm him, save in one tiny place between his shoulders, which was not touched by the blood, because it was covered by a linden leaf. Then do you sew a mark upon his garment directly over that place? said the false Hagen, that I may guard it well. One day Siegfried went out hunting with Gunther and Hagen, and it was not long before his body was brought back to the sorrowing Krimhild. The treachery of Hagen, however, was not to be hidden. For during the funeral rites Siegfried's wounds began to bleed afresh as Hagen passed the beer, and from this Krimhild knew that he was the murderer of her husband. Siegfried's father lovingly begged Krimhild to return to the Jutland with him, but she would not leave Burgundy, for she hoped some day to avenge her murdered husband. She sent for the nibbling treasure and gave generously to all around her. Then Wicked Hagen began to fear that the hearts of the people would turn towards her. Therefore he stole the treasure and sank it deep in the river Rhine, but he meant to recover it some day for himself. It came about that King Edsel of Hungary sent a noble envoy to beg for the hand of the widowed queen. She answered him kindly, for she said to herself, Edsel is brave and powerful, and if I wed him I may be able some day to avenge my Siegfried. So it was that Krimhild became the wife of Edsel, and was true and faithful to him for 13 years. At the end of that time she asked him to invite the king and court of Burgundy to visit them. The Burgundians accepted the invitation, though the murderer Hagen urged them to remain at home. In Hungary they were treated with all courtesy, but Krimhild had told her wrongs to her Hungarian friends, and as the guests sat at a magnificent feast given in their honour, the Hungarian knights dashed into the hall of feasting and slew almost everyone. Gunther and Hagen yet lived, and Krimhild bade Hagen reveal where he had hidden her stolen treasure. Never so long as Gunther lives was his reply. Krimhild ordered Gunther to be put to death and his head taken to Hagen, but Hagen still refused to tell what had become of the treasure.  Then one of the Burgundians cried, Whatever may become of me, she shall gain nothing by this murderous deed. And in a moment he had run her through with his sword. So ended the story of the treasure of the Nibelongs, which brought ill to everyone who possessed it. CHAPTER VI Clovis becomes the first king of Franks. Of all the Teotons who came to live on Roman territory, the most important were the Franks, or three men. They had no wish to wander over the world when they had once found a country that pleased them. And so, since they liked the land about the mouth of the Rhine, they settled there and held on to it, adding more and more wherever a little fighting would win it for them. Each tribe had its chief, but Clovis, one of these chiefs, came at last to rule them all. The country west of the Rhine, then called Gaul, was still partly held by the Romans, but Clovis meant to drive them away and keep the land for the Franks. When he was only 21, he led his men against the Roman governor at Soissons and took the place. From here he sent out expeditions to conquer one bit of land after another, and to bring back rich booty. The most valuable treasures were usually kept in the churches, and the heathen Franks took great delight in saving these. Among the church treasures captured at Rhames were the marvelously beautiful ways. Now the Bishop of Rhames was on good terms with Clovis, and he sent a messenger to the young chief to beg that, even if the soldiers would not return all the holy vessels of the church. This one at least might be given back. Clovis bade the messenger follow on to Soissons, where the booty would be divided. At Soissons when all the warriors were assembled, the king pointed to the ways and said, I ask you, almost valiant warriors, not to refuse to me the ways in addition to my rightful part. Most of the soldiers were wise enough not to object to the wishes of so powerful a chief, but one foolish envious man swung his battle axe and crushed the ways, crying, though shall receive nothing of this unless a just lot gives it to thee. It is no wonder that the whole army were amazed at such audacity. Clovis said nothing, but quietly handed the crushed ways to the bishop's messenger. He did not forget the insult, however, and a year later, when he was reviewing his troops, he declared that this man's weapons were not in fit condition, and with one blow of his axe, he struck the soldier dead, saying, thus thou didst do the ways at Soissons. Clovis showed himself so much stronger than the other chiefs of the Franks, that at length they all accepted him as their king. Soon after this, he began to think about taking a wife. The story of his wooing is almost like a fairy tale. In the land of Burgundy lived a fair young girl named Clothilda, whose wicked uncle had slain her father, mother, and brothers, that he might get the kingdom. Clovis had heard how beautiful and good she was, and he sent an envoy to ask for her hand in marriage. The wicked uncle was afraid to have her marry so powerful a ruler, lest she should avenge the slaughter of her family. But he did not dare to refuse Clovis or to murder the girl, after Clovis had asked that she might become his queen. There was nothing to do but to send her to the king of the Franks. Clovis was delighted with her, and they were married with all festivities. Clothilda was a Christian, and she was much grieved that their husband should remain a heathen. She told him many times about her god, but nothing moved him. When their first child was born, Clothilda had the baby baptized. Not long afterwards, the little boy grew ill and died. That is because he was baptized in the name of your god, declared Clovis bitterly. If he had been consecrated in the name of my gods, he would be still alive. Nevertheless, when a second son was born, Clothilda had him baptized.  But the mother prayed to God, and by God's will the boy recovered. Still, Clovis would not give up the gods of his fathers. It came to pass, however, that he was engaged in a fierce battle near where Cologne now stands. His enemies were fast getting the better of him, and he was almost in despair. When suddenly he thought of the god of his queen, and he cried.  If thou wilt grant me victory over these enemies, I will believe in thee, and be baptized in thy name. Soon the enemy fled, and Clovis didn't doubt that his prayer has been answered. When he told Clothilda of this, she was delighted. She sent for the bishop and asked him to teach her husband the true religion. After a little Clovis said to him, I am glad to listen to you, but my people will not leave their gods. He thought a while, and then he declared, I will go forth and tell them what you have told me. He went out among his people, and, as the legend says, even before he had spoken a word, the people cried out altogether. We are ready to follow the immortal god. Then the bishop ordered the font to be prepared for the baptism of the king. The processions set out from the palace and passed through streets, made gorgeous with embroidered hangings. First came the clergy, chanting hymns as they marched, and bearing the gospels and a golden cross. After them walked the bishop, leading the king by the hand. Behind them came the queen, and after her the people. They passed through the door and into the church. The candles gleamed, the house was hung with tapestries of the purest white, and was fragmented with incense. And there is the king of the Franks, his sisters, and more than three thousand of his warriors, besides a strong of women and children, were baptized and marked with the sign of the cross. The times were harsh and rude, and even a king who was looked upon as a Christian ruler, never dreamed of hesitating to do many cruel deeds. Clovis wished to enlarge his kingdom, and he could always find some excuse for attacking any tribe, living on land next to his own. He cared nothing for his word, and to get what he wanted, he was ready to lie or steal or murder. Clovis died in 511, but before that time all the lands between the lower Rhine and the Pyrenees had been obliged to acknowledge his rule. He made Paris his capital, and went there to live. This was the beginning of France. The descendants of Clovis held the throne for nearly two centuries and a half. They were called Merovingians, from Merovius, the grandfather of Clovis. End of chapter 6 Chapter 7 Of Heroes of the Middle Ages This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Heroes of the Middle Ages by Eva M. Tappen Chapter 7 Theodoric the Ostrogoth becomes ruler of Italy. In 476, one year before the death of Genseric Zawandal, a Goth named Odoraca became ruler of Italy. He had taken the throne from the handsome boy who had been ruling as emperor, permitting him to escape and allowing him 6,000 gold pieces a year. The Roman senate, which had once been a courageous and patriotic body of man, decided that there was no longer any western empire, and that its rule belonged to the emperor in the east, whose capital was Constantinople. The emperor accepted this view and left Odoraca in Italy to represent him. This event is called the fall of the western empire. In this same year 476, Theodoric became king of the Ostrogoths or gods of the east. The emperor in the east had hired this nation to defend the lower Danube, and Theodoric, a little boy of the royal family, had been sent to Constantinople as a hostage or pledge that his people would keep their promises. When Theodoric grew up and became king, the emperor permitted him to go and drive Odoraca out of Italy. Theodoric started with his army and with all the rest of his tribe, for they meant not only to drive out Odoraca but to make their homes in Italy. There were three fierce battles. Finally it was agreed that Odoraca and Theodoric should rule with equal powers. Before long however, Theodoric treacherously murdered Odoraca and became sole ruler of Italy. He meant to rule like the Romans but more wisely. He chose from the old Roman laws those which he saw just. He broke up the worst estates of the very wealthy and made many small farms, so that much more grain was raised. He built many handsome buildings, and he encouraged his subjects to read and study. The emperors in the east were doing their best to keep back the hordes of hunts and other barbarians, and it began to seem as if Italy would grow into a powerful well-governed country with ghosts for its rulers. That might have come to pass if a brilliant man named Justinian had not become ruler in the Eastern Empire after the death of Theodoric. His great wish was to bring back Italy and Africa to the Empire. Fortunately to him, he had an officer named Billy Sirius, who was not only a skillful general, but who had the power of making his soldiers eager to follow him. Under his lead, Italy and Africa were regained. The wonders in Africa were scattered, and the ghosts in Italy were hopelessly beaten. Justinian brought together all that was known of the Roman law, and it is upon his court of laws that the governments of the chief countries of Europe are founded. While he lived there seemed some hope that the empire would be mighty again, but as soon as he died it lapsed into the same week, tottering state as just before his day. Chapter 8 Charles Martel repels the Mohammedans at Tours When King Clovis died, his four sons divided the kingdom among them, much as if it had been a farm. Then they quarreled, and a quarrel in those days led to savage fighting. Each ruler intended to get as much as he could, and if anyone stoned in the way, the first thought was, kill him. For instance, one of Clovis's sons died, leaving three boys. Queen Clotilda tried to protect the rights of her grandchildren, but two of her sons sent her off sword and a pair of scissors.  To lose their long hair would shut them out of the royal family, and Clotilda replied that she would rather see them dead than disgraced. Two of the boys were at once murdered by their uncle. For more than a century, the Frankish kingdom was full of quarrels and fighting. During the following century, a king was always on the throne, but he never ruled, and these sovereigns have been nicknamed the Do Nothing Kings. The real rulers were officers called mayors of the palace. The mayor was at first only a sort of royal attendant, but several of the kings were children when they came to the throne, and the mayors acted as their guardians, but without all the regal powers. Some of the kings were stupid, and some cared only for amusement, and hardly any of them were strong and manly enough to govern. The mayors of the palace were rulers in peace, and as the Do Nothing Kings were of course unable to lead armies, the mayors became also commanders in war. This arrangement suited the Frankish nobles. They were always afraid that their kings would get too much power over them, but as the mayor was chosen from among themselves, they were not jealous of his power. One of these mayors was named Pepin. He treated the king with the utmost respect, permitted him to live on one of the royal estates, and sent servants to wait on him. When some national festival was to be held, the king was brought to court dressed in most elegant robes, and with his long hair floating over his shoulders. He rode in a heavy wagon drawn by oxen and driven by a cohort. This was according to the ancient custom, and the people would have been displeased to have it altered. He was escorted into the palace and seated upon the throne, and the nobles came to do him honor. He recited a little speech, composed for him beforehand, urging the army to be valiant and to be always ready for service. If ambassadors were to be received, he met them graciously, and said what Mayor Pepin had told him to say. Then, with all deference, he was led to the cart and driven back to the estate upon which he lived. He was free to go on hunting or raising doves or combing his long hair until a figure-head was needed again. When Pepin died, his son Charles became mayor. It was fortunate that he was a good fighter, for there was a great deal of fighting to be done. There were hostile tribes on the north and east to be subdued. Then, too, there were rumors of trouble coming from another people, the Mohamedans. It was essential that Charles should have an army ready to set out at a moment's notice. But he could not keep an army without the help of the nobles, and for such help he must pay and pay well. The churches owned a vast amount of land and money, and when Charles needed either to reward the nobles, he took it. It is probable that he did not give away the land, but only lent it to his nobles, by what is called a feudal tenure. That is, so long as a noble provided a certain number of men for the mayor's army, he might hold the land and get as much gain from it as he could. This was all very well for the nobles, but it is no wonder that the bishops were not pleased, and the army so maintained was to be used to defend them against the Mohamedans. The history of these people is interesting. About 160 years before that time, a man named Mohamed was born in Mecca in Arabia, and he became so famous when a man that the people who knew him as a child fancied that many wonderful things had happened to him when he was small. It was said that the sheep bore to him as he passed by, and that even the moon stooped from her place in the heavens to do him honour. While he was in the house of his nurse, so the legend says, her well never dried, and her pastures were always fresh and green. The little boy soon lost both father and mother, and was brought up in the house of his uncle. He must have been a most lovable boy, for everyone seems to have been kind to him. This uncle held an office of great honour. He was guardian of a certain black stone, which, it was said, the angel Gabriel had given to Abraham. The stone was built into the outer wall of the Kaaba, a little square temple which the Arabians looked upon as especially holy. Most of them were worshippers of idols, and the Kaaba was the home of enough idols to provide a different one for every day in the year. Thrones of pilgrims journeyed to Mecca to kiss the stone and worship in the Kaaba. And the boy must have heard marvellous tales of the strange places from which they came. His uncle was a merchant, and used to go with caravans to Syria, and elsewhere to buy and sell goods. When Mohammed was twelve years old, he begged earnestly to be allowed to go with him. The uncle said no. Then the boy pleaded, but my uncle, who will take care of me when you are gone? That tender-hearted man could not refuse any longer, and Mohammed went on his first journey. After this he always travelled with his uncle, and when the uncle went out to help his tribe fight another, he became the uncle's armor bearer. He learned about life in a caravan and about buying and selling goods, and while he was hardly more than a boy, he was often employed by merchants to go on such trips as their agent. At length he was engaged by a wealthy widow named Kadiyah, to manage a large business which the death of her husband had left in her charge. She became more and more pleased with the young man, and after a while she sent a trusty slave to offer him her hand. He was surprised but not at all unwilling, and soon there was a generous-fitting feast with music and dancing. The house was open to all who choose to come, and a camel was cured that its flesh might be given to the poor. Mohammed thought much about religious questions. He came to believe that his people were wrong in worshipping idols, and that there was only one true God. He used to go to a cavern a few miles from Mecca to pray and meditate. One month in every year he gave up entirely to this. After a while he began to have strange dreams and visions. In one of these he thought the angel Gabriel held before him a silk and clothes, on which there was golden writing, and made him read it. What I do not know how to read, replied Mohammed. Read in the name of the Most High, said the angel, and suddenly the power to read the letters came to him, and he found the writings were commands of God. Then the angel declared, though art the prophet of God. Mohammed told Kadiyah of his vision, and she believed that the angel had really come to him. After a little he began to preach wherever people would listen. A few believed in him, but most people only laughed at the story. Still he kept on preaching, and after a while, although he had but few followers in Mecca. There were many in Medina who had come to believe that he was the prophet of God. He decided that it was best for him to go to them, and in the year 622 he and a few friends escaped from their enemies in Mecca and went to Medina. This is called the Hegira of light. To this day Mohammedans do not count the years from the birth of Christ, but from the Hegira. As soon as the prophet was in Medina, his followers began to build a mosque, or place for prayer, in which he might preach. They made the walls of earth and brick. The pillars were the trunks of palm trees, and the roof was formed of their branches with a patch of leaves. He decided that his disciples should be called to prayer five times a day, and after all these centuries the call, or more as seen, is still heard in the east from some minaret of each mosque. God is great, there is no God but God. Mohammed is the apostle of God. Come to prayers, come to prayers. At dawn the cryer adds, prayer is better than sleep. Every true muscleman, as followers of Mohammed are called, is bound to obey this rule of prayer, and as he prays, he must turn his face toward Mecca. He is also commanded to make at least one pilgrimage to Mecca before he dies, and to kiss the sacred black stone. It is still in the wall of the Kaaba, but the Kaaba itself is now within a mosque so large that it will hold 35 000 persons. It is probable that Mohammed never learned to read or write, but his followers jotted down his words on bits of palm leaves or skins, or even the shoulder blades of animals, and many of them they learned by heart. After the death of the prophet, the caliphs, as his successors were called, collected these sayings and arranged them in a book called the Quran, which is the sacred volume of the musclemans. For a long while Mohammed preached peace and gentleness and charity, and he won many followers. Then he came to believe that if people would not obey his teachings, it was right to make war upon them. He marched against Mecca with a large army of his disciples, and soon captured it. After a time, either by preaching or by fighting, the Mohammedans, or musclemans, became the rulers of all Arabia. After the death of their prophet, they continued their conquests. They overcame Syria, Persia, Egypt, northern Africa and Spain. A little later, they swarmed over the Pyrenees, and pushed on as far north as Tours. In 732, just 100 years after the death of Mohammed, the Mohammedans met the Frankish army of Charles on the plane of Tours, and after a terrible combat the Mohammedans were so completely overwhelmed, that they retreated towards Spain, and never again tried to conquer the land of the Franks. It is as fortunate for all Europe that the Frankish troops were led by so valiant a barrier as Charles. He not only led, but he fought with his own hands, and he swung his mighty battle axe with such crushing blows, that after this battle he was known as Charles the Hammer, or Charles Martell. It was no wonder that when the long-haired Merovingian died, who was then called King of the Franks, none so need of putting another on the throne while Charles lived. When Charles Martell died, his son Pepin became mayor. He is known as Pepin the Short. By this time the Pope had become so powerful, that kings like to have his sanction to whatever they proposed to do. Before long Pepin sent an embassy to him to say, who ought to be the king, the man who has the name or the man who has the power. The Pope thought it reasonable that the man who is really king should be also king in name, and so it came to pass that no more Merovingians draw up from their farms once a year to sit on the throne for a day. Pepin was made king, and soon the Pope travelled all the way from Rome to Saint Denis, near Paris, to crown the new sovereign, and anoint him with the sacred oil. He was the first king of the Carolingian line. Heroes of the Middle Ages, by ever March happened. Chapter 9. Charlemagne is crowned emperor of the Romans. Pepin the Short had done a great deal to unite the kingdom. But when he died, he left it to his two sons, and so divided it again. The older son died in a few years, and now the kingdom of the Franks was in the hands of Charlemagne, if he could hold it. First came trouble with the Saxons, who lived about the lower Rhine and the Elbe. They and the Franks were both Germans, but the Franks had had much to do with the Romans, and had learned many of their ways. Missionaries too had dwelt among them, and had taught them Christianity, while the Saxons were still heathen. It was fully thirty years before the Saxons were subdued. During those years, Charlemagne watched them closely. He thought, to be sure, whenever they rebelled, and he made some severe laws, and so to it that these were obeyed. More than this, however, he sent missionaries to them, and he built churches. He carried away many Saxon boys' assostages. These boys were carefully brought up, and were taught Christianity. They learned to like the Frankish ways of living, and when they had grown up and were sent home, they urged their friends to yield and become peaceful subjects of the Great King. And finally the land of the Saxons became a part of the Frankish kingdom. Charlemagne not only began the Saxon War when the Pope asked for help against the Lombards, a tribe of totens, who had settled in northern Italy. The king was quite ready to give it, for he too had a quarrel with them, and in a year or two their ruler had been shut up in a monastery, and Charlemagne had been crowned with the old iron crown of Lombardy. This war had hardly come to an end, before the king led his troops into Spain against the Mohamedans. There, too, he was successful, but at Ronke Svelz he lost a favorite follower, Count Roland. Roland and the warriors who perished with him were so young and brave, that the Franks never varied of recounting their noble deeds. Later the story was put into a fine poem called The Song of Roland, which long after one man sang as they dashed into battle. In the year 800 a great honor was shown to Charlemagne, for as he was kneeling at the altar in Rome on Christmas Day, the Pope set a crown upon his head, and the people cried, long life and victory to the mighty Charles, the great and pacific emperor of the Romans, crowned of God. Charlemagne was now not only king of the Franks, but Roman emperor. This empire, however, was smaller than it had been in the earlier days, for it included now only France, part of Germany and of Italy, and a little strip at the north of Spain. Charlemagne had become a great ruler, and other rulers were anxious to win his friendship. Haroun al-Rashid, or Haroun the Just, the Caliph of Baghdad, hero of the Arabian Knights, was one of his special friends. This caliph was a poet and learned man. He founded schools throughout his kingdom in which medicine, geometry and astronomy might be studied. Charlemagne did not write poetry, but he was a close student, and he desired the boys of his kingdom to be educated. One of his orders reads, Let every monastery and every abbey have its school, where boys may be taught the psalms, the system of musical notation, singing, arithmetic and grammar, and let the books which are given them be free from faults, and let care be taken that the boys do not spoil them, either when reading or writing. When he returned from one of his campaigns, he sent for a group of school boys and made them show him their work. The boys from the poorer families had done their best, and he thanked them hurtily. Try now to reach perfection, he said, and you shall be highly honoured in my sight. The sons of the nobles had thought that as their fathers were rich and of high rank, there was no need of their working, and they had nothing good to show their king. You burst out upon them in anger.  Let me promise you this, if you do not make haste to make good your former negligence, never think to get any favours from Carl. As there were few learned men into the Frankish kingdom, the king sent to scholars in other parts of Europe, and offered them generous rewards to come to the Franks and their teachers. He collected a library and established a school at his own court, and there the mighty emperor, his family and his courtiers, gathered around some wise men and learned of him. The emperor was interested in everything. He often got up in the night to study the stars. Once when the planet Mars could not be seen, he wrote to his teacher, what do you think of this Mars? Is it the influence of the sun? Is it a miracle? Could he have been two years about performing the course of a single one? Charlemagne was a tall, large, dignified man. On state occasions he dressed most splendidly. But at other times he wore simple clothes and liked best those that were ornamented with the work of his wife and daughters. He was an expert horseman and swimmer, and he taught his sons to ride and to use the sword and the spear. He took charge of his own farms, he built churches and bridges, and he began a canal to connect the Rhine with the Danube. He encouraged trade, making the taxes upon merchants as light as possible. He collected the ancient German songs, he had a grammar of the language written, he improved the singing in the churches, and he even had the coinage of the kingdom manufactured in his own palace. All this was in addition to the fifty or more campaigns that he was obliged to make. Surely he was the busiest of monarchs and the busiest of Germans, for although the land of the Franks is no France, yet it must not be forgotten that the Franks were German, and that the German, Carl der Große, would be a better name for the great ruler than the French Charlemagne. When the mighty emperor died his empire fell to his son, a gentle, kindly man, but not strong enough, to meet the lawless chiefs who opposed him. He was followed by his three sons, and again the worst empire was divided. The sons were not satisfied and they went to war. After much fighting a treaty was made at Verdun in 843. The eldest son Lothar received the title of emperor. His part of the domain was northern Italy, and a broad strip of land extending to the North Sea. The kingdom of the youngest laid to the east of this, and that of the second son Charles the Bald to the west. Charles the Bald held more than half of what is now called France, and it is from this treaty and the reign of Charles that the French count the beginning of the kingdom of France. Chapter 10 of Heroes of the Middle Ages This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Heroes of the Middle Ages by Evermarch Tappen. Chapter 10. The Coming of the Totents to England The Celts, as has been said before, left their old home in Asia in very early times, and moved slowly across Europe. At length they came to the ocean. The tribes behind were pressing upon them, and the Celts were not to be stopped by so narrow a body of water as the English Channel. Many of them crossed to Britain. There they lived in small huts made of balls fussing together at the top. They knew how to make boats with planks and nails, but often there they made them by covering weaker frameworks with skins. Their priests were called Druids, and just thought that the great stones at Stonehenge on Salisbury plain are the remains of rude temples in which sacrifices were offered. These Celts or Britons painted their bodies blue, for they thought this would make them seem more terrible to their enemies. Rough as they were, they were fond of pretty things, and they made themselves bracelets and necklaces of gold. Those who lived inland were savage, but those who dwelt nearest to the continent were somewhat civilized. They raised wheat and barley and kept many cattle. They had no towns, but gathered in little villages. This is the way the Britons lived when the Romans came upon them. The Romans were always ready to conquer a new country, and they meant to subdue Britain or Albion as it was then called. They obliged the Britons in the greater part of England to obey them, but they were unable to subdue the savage tribes of the northern part of the island. And finally, to keep them from raiding the land which they ruled, they built two great walls with watchtowers and strongholds across the country. Some of the Totents on the continent were also troublesome, and therefore the Romans erected a line of forts around the southeastern shore of England. These Romans were famous roadmakers, and they built excellent highways, some of which exist to this day. They made settlements, they erected handsome townhouses and country houses with statues and waces and pavements of many-coloured marble, and they built many of their famous baths. The Romans were the rulers, and the Britons had to obey. It is probable that many of the Britons were obliged to enter the Roman army, and that many of those who did not become soldiers were treated as slaves. The Romans could have conquered the troublesome northern tribes, but as we have seen, the Goths were pressing upon the boundaries of their empire, and Alaric had invaded Italy and plundered Rome itself. Every soldier in the Roman army was now needed to help protect the empire, and so officers and men sailed away from the British shores and left the people to take care of themselves. The Britons were better able to do this before the coming of the Romans. They were excellent fighters, but they had become so used to being led by Roman officers that, when left alone, they were helpless. The savages were coming down upon them from the north, and the three tribes of Totens, the Saxons, Angles and Jews were threatening them from the region between the Baltic and the North Sea. The Britons could not protect themselves, and they sent a pitiful appeal to the Roman commander Iotius to come and help them. The barbarians, it said, drive us to the sea, and the sea drives us back to the barbarians, and between them we are either slain or drowned. Iotius, however, was too busy trying to keep other barbarians from Rome to help people so far away as England, and he could do nothing for them. The Britons believed that of all their enemies the Totens were the strongest, and they decided to ask them to come to Britain and help drive away the others. They might have the island of Tannet for their home, the Britons promised. The Jews came first under the two brothers, Hengist and Horsa, it is said, and they were followed by the Angles and Saxons. These Totens helped to drive away the other tribes according to the bargain, but soon they found Tannet too small for them, and so, just as one tribe had been driving another to the westward for centuries, they drove the Britons to the westward. Some Britons were killed, some became slaves, and some hid away in the mountains of western England. The Totens called these well, or Welsh, that is, strangers or foreigners, and it is from this that the country of Wales takes its name. The Britons were not conquered all at once by any means, for they fought most courageously, and it was many years before the Totens became masters of the entire country. The Angles scattered so widely throughout the land that it took its name from them, and became known as the land of the Angles, or Angleland, and finally England. The Saxons, however, were strongest of the three peoples, and therefore their name is generally given to all the invaders. Their descendants take both names and are known as Angle Saxons. The Britons had become Christians long before the coming of the Saxons, but the Saxons were heathen. After these savage invaders had been in England about a century, some young people of their race were sold in Rome as slaves. They had golden hair and blue eyes, and to a saintly monk named Gregory, who was passing through the marketplace, they seemed exceedingly beautiful. Who are they? he asked. The answer was Angley, that is, Angles. He declared that they would be not Angles, but angels, if they were Christians. Gregory never lost his interest in the Angles, and if he had been permitted, he would gladly have gone to England as a missionary. After some years he became Pope Gregory the Great, and then, although he himself could not go, he sent Saint Augustine to preach to them. The king of Kent had a Christian wife, and therefore Saint Augustine went first to him, and asked if he might tell him about the religion of Christ. The king was willing to hear him, but not in a house, for if there was any magic about this new faith, he thought the evil spirits would have far less power in the open air. He listened closely, and then he went home to think over what he had heard. After a while he told Saint Augustine that he believed the Christian faith was true. The stitching spread over England, and soon the country was no longer heathen. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Story of Beowulf The Saxons were fond of singing at their feasts old songs about a hero named Beowulf. Those of them who lived their earlier home and came to England did not forget these songs. More incidents were added and by and by, just as in the case of the Tale of the Nipolongs and that of King Arthur, someone wove them together into one long story. The following is the story of Beowulf. The old king, Hrozgar, who ruled in the land of the Danes, built a mighty hall in which his heroes might feast when they return from their hard-fought battles. Everyone who saw it admired it. But a wicked monster called Grendel, who prowled about in the darkness, was angry. He could not bear to hear the merry sounds of music and feasting. And one night, while the men lay asleep, he crept up to the hall and slew 30 of the warriors, dragging their bodies away with him to Devour. Night after night the same slaughter went on, and the old king was almost broken-hearted at the loss of his beloved heroes. But help was coming. The young champion Beowulf, of the land of Gotland, had heard of the trouble, and he determined to free the king and his men. So with some brave comrades he sailed away from his home, and soon reached the land of the Danes. The young warriors had hardly stepped on shore when the warden of the land, who had been watching them from the cliffs, demanded sharply who they were, for he feared they might be enemies. Upon learning Beowulf's name and the purpose for which he had come, he conducted the strangers to the hall of Hrosgarh. Then the king was glad at heart, for he had heard of the amazing prowess of Beowulf. That night, while the warriors lay asleep, Grendel stole up through the mist as usual.  But Beowulf caught his hand, and held it in such a grip as the monster had never known. He was afraid and tried to flee, but he could not. The heroes awoke and drew their swords, but no weapon could pierce the skin of Grendel. He must be our combat strength alone. At length he escaped, but his arm was torn from its socket, and left in the iron grasp of Beowulf. In the morning there was great rejoicing. The king loaded the hero with lavish gifts. The queen brought him handsome garments, and hung about his neck a fair golden color, and all were glad and happy. Alas, on the following night, Grendel's mother, another monster as terrible as he, came up from her cavern beneath the lake for revenge. She seized and carried away with her one who was very dear to the aged Khrozgar. The king grieved sorely, but Beowulf promised vengeance. Then Beowulf and Khrozgar, and a company of chosen men, found their way by a lonely path to the lake, on which was the den of the fiends. The head of him who was dear to Khrozgar lay on a rock, and swimming in the water were fearful serpents and dragons. Beowulf put on his armor and sprang into the lake. Down, down he sank through the gloomy water. Grendel's mother clutched at him and dragged him into her frightful den. The men by the shore saw the water become red with blood, and they grew very sorrowful. But after long, long while, they saw Beowulf swimming towards the land. He had slain Grendel's mother, and he bore with him the terrible head of Grendel. Then there was great joy in the beautiful hall of King Khrozgar. Many costly gifts were bestowed upon him, who had delivered the followers of the king. And then Beowulf bade them all farewell, and set out for his homeland. Beowulf was soon chosen chief of his people and ruled for many years. When he was an old man, a fire-breathing dragon that dwelt in his country came forth by night, and went through the land killing people and burning towns and cities. This dragon guarded a vast treasure, and King Beowulf said to himself, I will win this treasure for my people, and I will avenge their wrongs. He did slay the dragon, but he himself was mortally wounded. His men grieved sorrowfully. They built a great funeral pyre, all hung about with helmets and shields and coats of mail. And on it they laid gently the body of their dead leader. Afterward they reared in his honor a mighty mound on the hill beside the sea. And in it they buried many rings of gold and other treasures, which they had brought forth from the dragon's cave. In after days they often spoke together of Beowulf, and they said, He cared more for glory than did any other king who dwelt on the earth. He was kind and gentle too, and he truly loved his people. A few years before Alderic invaded Italy, a boy was born in Britain, probably on the western coast, who was to become the famous St. Patrick. It was a wild, rude country. There were bears and wolves and wild boars. It was damp and cold. There was much fog and little sunshine. There were worse troubles than a disagreeable climate, for pirates from Ireland or Caledonia, sometimes dashed up to the shore, made savage forests in the country, and sailed away with bands of capitals, to be sold as slaves. This fate befell Patrick when a boy of about sixteen. For several years he was a slave in Ireland, and spent much of his time tending cattle. He had been brought up as a Christian, and as he watched his cattle on the hills, he prayed, some days a hundred times. At length there was a chance to escape, and he fled to his home. All his kindred welcomed him and begged him, now that he was rescued from such great dangers, never to go away. Still his heart was with the Irish. He dreamed one night that a man held before him a letter, which began, the voice of the Irish. And, as he read, he seemed to hear the people who dwelt by the western ocean calling, come and dwell with us.  When the time had come that he felt himself prepared, he returned to the island where he had been a captive. Other preachers went with him, and they travelled up and down the land, telling the people everywhere of the religion of Christ.  The four parts of their heads were shaved, and the rest of their hair hung down upon their shoulders. When they went on long journeys, they rode in clumsy, two-wheeled wagons. But if the journeys were short, they travelled on foot, staff in hand, chanting psalms as they walked. They carried mass books and copies of the gospels and portable altars, and bells made by riveting two pieces of sheet iron, together into the form of a rude bell, and then dipping it into mounted bronze. Generally the people were willing to listen to the strangers, but nevertheless the lives of the missionaries were often in danger. The chiefs were always at warfare among themselves, and it was not safe to go from one district to another without an escort. In one place the people thought the long, narrow writing tablets of the preachers were straight swords, and that they had come to make trouble. It was some little time before they could be made to understand that the strangers were their friends. There is a story that at one time the missionaries were in danger from Laughair, the chief king. A twilight king Laughair went out with his nobles to light the fire of the spring festival. On the hill of slain he saw another fire. It was forbidden on pain of death that anyone else should kindle a fire so long as the king's was burning, and Laughair sent men to learn who these daring strangers were and to bring them before him. It is thought that Patrick's poem called The Deer's Cry was written at this time. Part of it is as follows. At Tara today in this fateful hour I place all heaven with its power, and the sun with its brightness, and the snow with its whiteness, and fire with all the strength it has, and lightning with its rapid brass, and the winds with their swiftness along their path, and the sea with its deepness, and the rocks with their steepness, and the earth with its darkness, all these I place, by God's almighty help and grace, between myself and the powers of darkness. The thought of the poem is that everything that God has made, will help to guard the man who puts trust in his protection. The missionaries told the king that their fire was not to celebrate the coming of spring, but Easter and the resurrection of Christ. He listened closely, and finally gave them permission to preach to his people. The grateful Irish loved Saint Patrick and were eager to make him gifts, but he would never accept them.  The boy afterward became a bishop, and succeeded his beloved master. For many years Saint Patrick preached and taught, and built churches and schoolhouses, and monasteries. These monasteries, and others that were founded not long afterward, became the most famous schools of the age. Thousands of pupils came to them from the neighbouring countries, and from these seats of learning and piety, earnest teachers and missionaries went forth, not only to Britain, but to every corner of Europe. This is the work that was begun by one fearless, faithful and selfish man. The tales of his valiant deeds were told over and over again, and new ones were often added. By and by they were put into book, formed by one Thomas Mallory, and it is from this that Tennyson took the stories that he made and to the splendid verse of his ideals of the king. These stories say that after the death of Arthur's father, King Uther, the little boy was brought up by one Sir Ector, and was called his son. When Arthur had grown old enough to be a squire, the throne of Britain became vacant. In the char-chart there was seen a great stone, wherein was an anvil. In the anvil was a sword, and about it was written in letters of gold. Who so pulleth this sword from this stone, and anvil is right wise king, born of all England. Many tried to lift the sword, but Arthur was the only one who succeeded. Therefore he was made king, and he swore that he would drool justly and truly all the days of his life. Arthur and the enchanter Merlin rode one day by a broad lake, under far out in the midst of the lake, an arm, clad in white cement, a rich clothes like satin, rose from out the water, and held up a fair sword. Then came the lady of the lake, moving upon the water. Enter into yonder barge, she said, and rode to the sword, and take it, and the scabbard. So it was that King Arthur found his magic sword Excalibur, which so often helped him to overcome his enemies in battle. The barons wished the king to take a wife, and Merlin asked, is there any fair lady that you love better than another? Yes, the king replied, I live Ginevere, she is the gentlest and fairest lady that I know living. The father of Ginevere consented joyfully to the marriage, and as her dory he sent the famous round table which King Uther had given him long before, with one hundred nights brave and true. Then Arthur rejoiced. He welcomed Ginevere, and he sought out twenty-eight nights of his own to sit at the round table, and it was found that by some magic the name of each night had been written upon his seat, or siege, in letters of gold. But on one seat called the siege perilous, there was none. The bravest of these nights was Lancelot, but they were all strong and melliant. They josted, they avenged maidens in distress, and they punished all wrongdoing that came to their ears. They were brave and true, but no one of them had dared to place himself in the siege perilous. At last there came to Arthur's court a fair and poor youth named Galahad, and when the thilken clothes was lifted from the siege perilous, behold, upon it was written, This is the seat of Galahad. One evening, when every night sat in his place, a cracking was heard, and the sound of thunder, and a sunbeam seven times brighter than day was seen, and in the sunbeam was the holy grail, the cup from which the blessed Christ drank at the last supper. But it was veiled with white summit so that none might see it. There upon most of the nights took woes that they would search the world over till the glorious vision of the grail should come to them. It was a long and almost hopeless search. Even the pure Sir Galahad made many journeys in vain, but at last he had a vision of the holy cup.  At length King Arthur was sorely wounded in battle, and he knew that the time had come for him to die. Cast my sword excalibur into the water of the lake, he bade Sir Bediver, his companion, and come again and tell me what you have seen. And when Sir Bediver had thrown the sword, there rose from water an arm clad with white summit. The hand took the sword, and both sword and arm vanished beneath the waters. Then came close to the shore a barge, and in it was King Arthur's sister with two other queens and many fair ladies in waiting. The king was laid softly into the barge, and Sir Bediver went away into the forest to weep. In the morning he came upon a chapel wherein was a tomb by which a hermit was praying. The hermit told Sir Bediver that the man who was buried in the tomb had been brought there by some ladies at midnight. Then the faithful knight knew that it was the tomb of his king, and by it he abode all the days of his life, fasting and praying for the soul of his lord, King Arthur. It was about 449 when the Totons landed on the island of Tannet. More and more of them came, until finally not the Britons, but the Totons rode England. Each company tried to make their settlement a little kingdom by itself. Sometimes a little group of these kingdoms were allies for a while, then they were enemies. Gradually the west Saxons became more powerful than the others, and at length their king, Egbert, induced seven of these kingdoms to make a sort of union. It would have been far better if this union could have been strong and lasting, for all England was now in dreadful peril. The reason was that still more tribes were pushing on to the westward. These tribes were Totons, who lived in Norway, Sweden and Denmark. But the English called them all Danes. The Danes thought it a disgrace to live quietly on the land, and they dashed off in the fiercest tempests, and over the stormiest seas in search of treasure. They would steal up to a church or a convent in a village, in the mist and darkness. Then, with wild shouts to Odin and Thor, they would kill, burn and plunder. They destroyed bridges. They set fire to the growing crops. They tossed little babies to and throw on the points of their spears. They tortured the helpless dogs and horses. Then they set off for their homeland to display the treasures they had won. Their code of honor was that of Odin who fled from Fjord, then five disgraced themselves. The warriors had no fear of death, for they believed that the Valkyries would come and carry those slain in battle to the delights of Valhalla. These were the enemies whom the grandson of Egbert, the Saxon king Alfred, a young man of 23, had to meet. At the death of his brother he had become king. But just at that time the Danes were coming in throngs, and there were no rejoicings in honor of the new sovereign. There was no feasting. There was not even a meeting of the counselors of the kingdom to declare that they accepted him as their ruler. The Danes landed first on one shore, then on another. Alfred built warships and won a battle on the sea. Then he was surprised by the Danes, and most of his people were subdued. Their king, however, had no thought of yielding. He and some of his faithful followers withdrew to Athelni, an island in the swampy forest of Somerset, where they made themselves a fort. A few people lived in this wilderness who tended the swine of their lord. Their homes were tiny huts of brushwood plastered with mud. Two legends of his stay at Athelni have been handed down to us. One is that he wants to refuge in one of these tiny huts, much to the wrath of the housewife, for her husband had not told her who was his guest. The story says that she bade the visitors sit by the fire and turn her cakes when they were done on one side. The anxious king forgot all about them, and the angry housewife scolded. According to an old ballad she cried. There don't you see the cakes are burnt? Then wherefore turn them not.  The second legend is that in order to find out the number of the Danes, he put on the dress of a harbour, and went to the Danish camp. There he sang all ballads, perhaps even part of Beowulf. The Danes were delighted, and never guessed that they were applauding the king of the English. Alfred went back to his friends with a good knowledge of the Danish camp, and a hurtful of courage. When the spring came, he surprised his enemies, and forced them to promise to be baptized as Christians. He was not strong enough to drive them from the country, but it was agreed that they should remain in their settlements in the eastern and northern parts of England, while Alfred should rule the southern and western parts. Then Alfred said to work to do what he could for his kingdom. The king of England was in a hard position. Much of the country had been ravaged again and again. Churches, libraries and convents had been destroyed. Alfred built a line of forts around the southeastern coast, for he knew that other Danes would be likely to come. He built at least one hundred warships. He made a code of laws for his people. He appointed judges, who were punished if they were not just. One judge was hanged, because he condemned a man unlawfully. Alfred built churches and convents. He brought learned men to his kingdom, following the example of Charlemagne in earlier times. He established schools and he commanded that every freeborn boy in the kingdom should learn to read English, and that if he showed ability, he should go on and learn to read Latin. Now arose a difficulty. In those times books were written in Latin, as a matter of course, and there were very few in English. So the busy king set to work to translate books for his people. One of them was a sort of history and geography combined. In this is the story which Langfellow has put into his poem, The Discoverer of the North Cape. The story of a year the old sea captain who dwelt in Helgoland. Alfred had received a barren land, however run by enemies. He left it a peaceful, prosperous kingdom with schools, churches, just laws, vessels and fortifications. It is no wonder that he is called Alfred.


Professor Smith, you are the 10th Good Heart Professor, we have the pleasure of interviewing and we are very grateful to you for agreeing to add to our archive. You have an illustrious and varied career in which you've held academic positions at five universities and professorships at three of those. I hope that we can talk today about your early life and your career, touching on your aspirations for your time in the Good Heart Chair and then at a later stage you'll be a chance to talk about your scholarly work and again hopefully you can talk about your research as a Good Heart incumbent. So could we start with when you were born, just shortly after the war? Yes. In 1947. That's right, two years after the war, born in Christchurch in New Zealand in 1947 in January. My father was in the Air Force. He stayed in the Air Force after the war. He'd been a navigator in the Solomon's and Guadalcanal during the war. But he decided he would stay in the Air Force. And that meant that our early life, I had an older sister and a younger brother and sister, meant that it was a very disruptive life. When I came to England, I think the year after I was born, my father was doing a specialist navigators course. The services were such that we moved every two or three years, so this early schooling was very, very disruptive. I think I went to about five different primary schools while I was in New Zealand. Professor Smith, your early life was somewhat disruptive because you moved several times. Yes. You went to primary school in Christchurch. No, I started in Wellington. In Wellington. Then went to Christchurch. And then to Christchurch. And back to Wellington. Back to Wellington. Yes. And you started your high school. You did your high school at St Beads. Yes, but I also had a year in Wellington. Well, we moved to a place called Blenheim. And between after Wellington, after Christchurch, I went to Blenheim. And I made the mistake of winning a scholarship to a boarding school in Wellington. And I did not like it one little bit. Fortunately, after a year of that, my father decided he'd had enough of the Air Force. He changed his job and we then went to Christchurch. Right. At that point, I had to go to a new secondary school. Which was St Beads? That was St Beads, yes. Is that a Catholic school? Well, it's both Catholic. All Catholic schools, yes. The early ones taught by nuns. The later ones by marital priests. Right. And at that early stage, were there any subjects at school that you excelled in? I was most interested, I suppose, in literature. I was very bad at that. And I think I was very badly taught at Silverstream. And then when I went to St Beads, I had a different teacher and made the subject completely different. I actually enjoyed chemistry. But I didn't enjoy the chemistry teacher at St Beads. And he once told me I was a complete waste of time. I was so cross, I worked hard at it. I got the top mark in chemistry and the national exam. He never spoke to me ever again. And mathematics I quite enjoyed. But again, the teacher, I asked him why we were differentiating functions. Because I couldn't quite see the point of it. And he said, never mind, just do it. And that doesn't have to put you off the subject, I think. That's right. But some of the teachers I had, particularly in English, I had a particularly good English teacher, a man called Father Weir, John Weir, who was a poet who had written quite a bit of his own poetry, that was an expert on the poetry of James K. Baxter. I had lost contact with him for quite a while, but met him again quite recently when he published the complete prose works of James K. Baxter, a four-volume work. He's now in his 80s. It was a wonderful piece of work, quite an amazing piece of scholarship. I'm pleased to have kept in touch with him. Wonderful to have met him again. Made in touch with him again, yes. Must have been very meaningful. It is, yes. He tells me he's writing a biography of Lewis Carroll, and I told him I thought that field was really rather full, but he was not daunted.