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
Then we leaped from the causeway, and went northward through the
woodlands, sure that the chase for us would hear from the foresters
whither we were heading, and would pass on for many a mile before
they found that no other party had seen us. Whereon they would
suppose that we had struck southward to pass Worcester by the other
road, even as we had said in the hearing of the thrall in the
house.
Then I thought that the chase for us was not likely to be kept up
long, for it would grow difficult; but Erling shook his head. He
had a deadly fear of Quendritha.
Now we rode for all the forenoon in a wide curve, northward and
then westward, across the land which the long border wars had
ravaged so that we saw no man save once or twice a swineherd. More
than once we passed burned farmsteads, over whose piled ruin the
creepers were thriving; and all the old tracks were overgrown, and
had never a wheel mark on them, save ancient ruts in which the
water stood, thick with the growth of duckweed, which told of long
disuse.
And at last we came to the valley of the little Lugg river which we
sought, and then were perhaps ten miles north of Sutton and its
palace stronghold. The day had grown dull, and now and then the
rain swept up from the southwest and passed in springtime showers,
just enough to make us draw our cloaks round us for the moment,
soft and sweet. In the river the trout leaped at the May flies that
floated, fat and helpless, into their ready mouths, and the
thrushes were singing everywhere above their nests.
Those were things that I was ever wont to take pleasure in, and the
more since I had been beyond the sea. But today I had little heart
to heed them, for the heaviness of all the trouble was on me.
Maybe, however, and that I do believe, I should have been more
gloomy still had I been one of those who have no care for the
things of the land they look on, lovely as they are. I dare say
Erling the viking took pleasure in them, if he would have preferred
the wild sea birds and the thunder of the shore breakers to all
this quiet inland softness. At all events, he had no mind that I
should brood on trouble overmuch, and strove to cheer me.
"Thane," he said presently, even as I began to quest hither and
thither by the riverside for the track of the cart, which indeed I
hardly thought would have come thus far, "it seems to me that food
before search will be the better, an you please."
"Why," said I, having altogether forgotten that matter, "twice men
have told me that when Quendritha is at a man's heels he had better
not wait for aught. Yet I blame myself for having forgotten. It is
not the way for a warrior to be heedless of the supplies."
"When the warrior is a seaman also he cannot forget," quoth Erling.
"Had you bided with Thorleif for another season, you had found that
out. I have not forgotten. Dismount, and we will see what is hidden
in the saddlebags."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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