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
"Good friend of him whom I loved, I thank you for your loyalty to
him. The archbishop has told me, and you have given me back a
little of my trust in men. I had deemed that all were false for
aye, but for you, I think. Now I go hence, and beyond the walls of
some nunnery I shall never pass, and there I will pray for you
also. And for you there shall be happy days to come, in the meed of
utmost loyalty."
I could not answer her, and still I knelt, for there was somewhat
needed to come ere I could part from her without a word. But before
I could frame aught she set her hand through the curtains, and in
it was somewhat small, as it were a silken case cunningly woven
round a little jewel, perchance.
"There was none whom I would ask to do what I longed for," she
said; "but now it will be done. I pray you set this on his heart,
that it may go to his grave with him."
"There it shall most surely be, lady," I said. "I am honoured in
the duty."
"Go!" she said faintly; "and farewell."
I rose up hastily, and went back to my horse, while the lady who
had spoken just now busied herself in caring for her mistress.
Selred took my arm and walked aside with me.
"You must not come back to East Anglia," he said. "I know that you
would fain see the lady of Thetford, but it were useless danger for
you. I will tell her all that you have done, now; and if in after
days you may come to us, do so. Bide and tend Sighard and Hilda,
and mind that there is sore peril to both of them so long as
Quendritha lives. She is shut up now, but all the more has her mind
freedom to plan and plot the fall of those who have seen her at her
worst. One cannot shut up such a woman as she, but she will have
her ways of learning all she will, and her tools are many."
"I would that you could bide here," I said.
"I also; but I must pass eastward with this poor lady and these
others. Yet I am sure that Offa will do all honour to our king. He
has been seen by none as yet save his pages. They whisper that he
is fasting, and bowed with shame and grief."
For a little longer we spoke, and then we must part. The sad train
of the princess went on, and swung into the eastward track which
she would take, and the archbishop signed to us to follow him. And
that was the last which any man in Mercia saw of the fair princess
who had been the pride of the land, for she came safely to far
Crowland, in the fenland, and there pined and died.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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