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
"Why, then," said Elfric, "unbind us, and we will bide here
quietly. You may take the word of a thane."
"I have always heard that the word of a Saxon is to be relied on,"
said the old warrior, and gave an order to the guard.
Whereon they freed us, and glad I was to stretch my limbs again,
while my spirits rose somewhat.
The old chief talked with us for a while after that, and made no
secret of whence the ships had come. It seemed that they were
indeed from Wales, had touched on the south coast of Ireland, and
thence had rounded the Land's End, and, growing short of food, had
put in here. Also, he told us that they had been "collecting
property," and were on the way home to Denmark. He thought they
were the first ships of the Danes to cruise in these waters, and
was proud of it.
"It is a wondrously fair land of yours here," he said, looking
inland on the rolling downs and forest-hidden valleys.
"Fairer than your own?" I asked.
"Surely; else why should we care to leave our homes?"
"Ho, Thrond!" shouted some man from the wharves, "here are cattle
coming in."
The old warrior turned and left us, going ashore. Round the turning
of the street inland, whence we came, some of the mounted men were
driving our red cattle from the nearer meadows, and doing it well
as any drover who ever waited for hire at a fair. I saw that they
had great heavy-headed dogs, tall and smooth haired, which worked
well enough, though not so well as our rough gray shepherd dogs.
The ship we were in lay alongside the wooden wharf; and one could
watch all that went on, for the fore deck was high above the busy
crowd ashore.
I wondered for a few minutes what the Danes would do with the
cattle; but they had no doubt at all. Before old Thrond had reached
them the work of slaughter had begun, and wonderfully fast the men
were carrying the meat on board the ships, heaping it in piles
forward, and throwing the hides over the heaps. I heard one of the
guards say to another that this was a good "strand hewing," that
being their name for this hasty victualling of the ships.
More cattle came in presently, and sheep also, to be served in the
same way. There were a hundred and fifty men or so on each ship,
and I think that this was the first landing they had made since
they left Ireland, so that they were in need of plenty of stores.
Then all in the midst of the bustle came the wild note of a war
horn from somewhere inland beyond the town, and in a moment every
man stood still where he happened to be, and listened. Twice again
the note sounded, and a horseman came clattering down to the shore.
He was Thorleif, the chief with whom we had spoken, and he reined
up the horse and lifted his hand, with a short, sharp order of some
kind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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