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
"Back, back! Get round the far end--quick!"
The footsteps stopped, and voices cried in answer. Each party
thought the other called to them. Erling gave a hunter's whoop, as
if he saw the quarry, and cried them back again. Then there were a
quick rush away on either side, and more shouts, and at that Erling
came to us, laughing.
"There will be a bit of a puzzlement at the other end of the
cover," he said. "Now, master, let me see what water there is."
He stepped into it, trying the depth with his spear as he went. For
ten paces it deepened gradually, and then more quickly. He passed
on, up to his waist, then to his elbows, and so to his neck. Then
he disappeared suddenly, and Hilda almost cried out. His head came
up again in a moment, and he swam for three strokes or so, and then
he was on his feet again.
Now he turned toward us, and felt about with his spear once more,
and so walked steadily back to us--not quite in the same line, but
with the water hardly more than to his shoulders.
"It is easy enough," he said. "I did but step into a hole, and so
lost my footing. Pass me the cloaks, for we will have them over
dry."
I took his from where he left it by me, and rolled up mine and
Hilda's in it. Silently, but with a little wan smile, she took a
scarf from her neck and gave it me to tie them with. Then Erling
took them on his spear and waded back till he could toss them to
the far bank, and so turned to my help.
By that time I had taken up Hilda as best I might, holding her
high, bidding her fear not, and clutch me as little as possible.
She said nothing, being very brave, but nearly choked me once when
the water struck cold as it reached her.
The rising flood water swirled and beat on me as I went deeper and
deeper, and glad enough I was when Erling came to my side upstream
and helped to steady me. Once we stopped and swayed against the
rush for a long moment, half helpless; but we won, and struggled
on. Then a back eddy took the pressure from us, and we went more
quickly and steadily, and so found the shallows, and at last the
bank.
Thankful enough I was, for it had nearly been a matter of swimming
at one time; and if that had happened, I hardly care to think how
we should have fared.
I set Hilda down and gasped. She was not light when we started, but
with each step from the deeps to the shallows she had grown heavier
with the dragging weight of wet skirts; and that had puzzled me in
a foolish way, so that I thought that the weeds were holding her
down. Now we three stood and dripped, and were fain to laugh at one
another; while the men we had escaped from were talking loudly at
the far end of the cover, where they had met.
"That will not last long," I said; "they will be back at the
water's edge in a minute."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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