A King's Comrade: A Story of Old HerefordWhistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts)
History
A King's Comrade: A Story of Old Hereford
Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts)
Ethelbert, Saint, -794 -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Offa, King of the Mercians, -796 -- Fiction
"Bide here, paladin and priest, and keep our way back clear with my
comrade yonder, and let us go quickly. If they slay us--maybe that
is no loss, but at least we have done what we should."
Without another word Sighard leaped into that awesome pit, and
Witred followed him. Then went our three thanes, and Selred and I
stood alone in the room. I handed the torch down to the last man,
and so saw that from the place where the chair was set a low
stone-arched passage led westward into darkness. It was some work
of the old Romans, no doubt, for no Saxon ever made such
stonework--strong and heavy as rock itself.
The light flashed from somewhat on the wall also, as it seemed,
drawing my eyes to it.
"Yonder is a spear set," I said to the thane, as he took the light
from me; "hand it to me."
He took it from where it rested against the wall and gave it me,
turning at once to follow our comrades. Then I knew the spear well
enough, for I had seen it over close to me once before. It was
Gymbert's boar spear.
CHAPTER XII. HOW QUENDRITHA THE QUEEN HAD HER WILL.
Slowly the footfalls of our comrades died away down the low
passage, and then the last flicker of their torch passed from the
stone walls of that terrible pit, leaving Selred and myself alone
in the cold moonlight. Out through the doors toward the council
chamber I saw the Mercian thane, who had been watching us in
silence, sit down at the table and set his head in his hands
wearily; and I heard Erling try the bars of the door to the guest
hall, and finding it impossible to open, after a while pass into
the council chamber, and set himself against the great door once
more.
After that there fell a dead silence over all the place, and it was
uncanny. It seemed impossible that all men should sleep in peace in
the palace where such a deed had been wrought at our feet. I had
rather the rush and yell of the Welsh over these ramparts they
hated than this stillness of coldly-planned treachery.
Nor should I have been surprised if at any moment I had heard the
tramp of men who came to fall on us and end what had been begun, or
the cries and din of arms which should tell that they had fallen on
the sleeping thanes of Anglia in the guest hall. Anything was
possible after what had been wrought already, and indeed it was
hardly likely that the king should be slain and the servants let go
free.
I think that the stillness and waiting for unknown doings thus went
near to terrifying me. I know that I started at every sound, if it
were but the crackling of the little fire in the council chamber,
or the low challenge of one sentry to his fellow as the word which
told all well passed round the ramparts. Selred was on his knees,
and I would not speak to disturb the prayers which we so sorely
needed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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