A King's Comrade: A Story of Old HerefordWhistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts)
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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
I had forgotten my fear of the old walls when we came to the ruined
villa. Maybe I thought thereof when I and Erling went in and found
the horses all safe and ready to take to the road again; for in one
corner of the wall among the grass shone a glow worm, and it
startled me, whereat Erling chuckled, and I remembered.
We made a pillion of my cloak, and lifted Hilda up behind me; and
so we set out in the moonlight to find our way to Fernlea, striking
away from the river somewhat at first, and then taking a track
which led in the right direction. And so for an hour we rode and
saw no man. The land slept round us, and the night was still and
warm, and I forgot the troubles that were upon us in the pleasure
of having Hilda here and safe with me.
Presently we came out of forest growth into the open, and passed a
little hut, out of whose yard a dog came and barked fiercely as we
passed. There was no sound of any man stirring in the hovel,
however, and we went on steadily. As the crow flies, Fernlea town
was not more than five miles from the palace; but we wandered
somewhat, no doubt, being nowise anxious to meet any men on the
way, and also wishing to come into the town from any direction but
that of the road from Sutton.
A quarter of a mile from the hut where the dog was we entered a
deep old track, worn with long years of timber hauling and
pack-horse travel, and under the overhanging trees it was dark
again.
Now we had not gone fifty yards down this lane when my horse grew
uneasy, snorting, and bidding me beware of somewhat, as a horse
will. Hilda knew what the steed meant, and took a tighter hold on
my belt, lest he should swerve or rear.
"'Tis a stray wolf or somewhat," said Erling from behind us. "The
horses have winded him."
Then out of the shadows under the trees came a great voice which
cried in bad Saxon, "Ay, a wolf indeed! Stand and answer for
yourselves!"
"Spurs!" I cried to Erling, and the great skew-bald shot forward.
Out of the darkness, from the overhanging banks, and seemingly from
the middle of the hollow road, rose with a roar a crowd of
white-clad dim figures and flung themselves at the bridles, and had
my sword arm helpless before ever I had time to know that they were
there. And all in a moment I knew that these were no men of
Gymbert's, but Welshmen from the hills spying on the doings of Offa
at Sutton. Some one had told me that they were in doubt as to what
his great gathering meant.
Now, if Hilda had not been with us, there would have been some sort
of a fight here in the dark, for I should certainly have drawn
sword first and spurred afterward. As it was, my only thought must
needs be to save Hilda from any harm.
"Hold hard!" I cried in Welsh; "this is a lady travelling."
"Yes, indeed," one of the men who had hold of my bridle answered;
"he says truly."
"A lady?" said the voice which had spoken first. "Let her bid her
men be still, and we will speak with her!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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