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Updated: June 26, 2025
But I think that he was pleased to find that Havelok was, as he thought, a Welsh marshman, and well-nigh friendless, for so he would be the more ready to do what he was bidden; though, indeed, there seemed little doubt that the plan Alsi made for himself would find no stumbling block in Curan, if it might meet with a check elsewhere. That, however, was to be seen.
Am I true to the words of my oath in allowing this marriage?" There was not one there who did not know Havelok, whom they called Curan; and though all thought these doings strange, there was a hum of assent, for the oath said naught of the station in life of the bridegroom. Good King Ethelwald had been too trustful. "That is well," said Alsi, with a grave face.
And when these poor folk heard from us that Curan and his princess had come again for what was hers, they took rusty weapons and flint-tipped arrows and stone hammers from the hiding places in the thatch of their hovels, and went across the marshlands to where the little hill of Saltfleet stands above its haven, that they might help the one whom they had loved as a fisher lad to become a mighty king.
Also he began to hope that Alsi would ask nothing about the clothes this man of his wore, else he would be well laughed at for spending his money on a stranger. But Alsi seemed pleased with himself, or else with what he had heard, and went on. "Has this Curan friends in the town?" "None, lord, so far as I know." "Let me tell you that you may know a man's friends by the company he keeps.
Old foes has Havelok, as Radbard knows, and therefore it may be well to find a new name for him." "No need to go far for that," Withelm said. "The marsh folk call him Curan." "Curan, the wonder, is good," Arngeir said, after a little thought, for we all knew Welsh enough by this time. "Or if you like a Danish name better, brother, call it 'Kwaran, but silent about yourself you must surely be."
Alsi was going to his seat in the cross bench, where the parents of the couple are wont to sit at a wedding while the vows are made, but he seemed to bethink himself. It is my belief that he said what he did in order to shame both Havelok and Goldberga. "Why, it is not seemly that the bridegroom should sit alone without one to be by him. Where are your friends, Curan?"
I was about to tell this friendly countryman Havelok's name without thought, but stopped in time. Of all the things I had been brought up to dread most for him, that an English Dane should find him out was the worst, so I said, "He is called Curan, and he is a Lindsey marshman." "Who can talk Danish though his name is Welsh. That is strange. Well, you are right about me.
Now I said no more but this: "My father kept this matter secret all these years, and with reason, as we have seen; and so, while he is here, we call this foster-brother of mine Curan, until the time comes when his name may he known. Maybe it will be best for you not to say much of your knowledge of him. What does Earl Ragnar know of our wreck? For he told me that you knew me."
At that Goldberga grew pale and red by turns, so that David, quick to read the thoughts of those who came to him for help, asked if she had seen anyone who she thought must be meant, not at all knowing that she must needs say that this was Curan. Not at all willingly did she tell him this; but she did so, adding at last that Alsi had threatened to wed her to this man.
It has been customary to describe the Thracian Wonder, a play of uncertain authorship, as founded upon the story of Curan and Argentile in Warner's Albion's England, a metrical emporium of historical legend very popular at the close of the sixteenth century. The narrative in question was later expanded into a separate work by one William Webster, and published in 1617.
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