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
Presently, on the morrow, and again in days later, when the body of
the king lay for the people to pass and see, and when it was taken
with all pomp to its resting in the great new cathedral which men
call that of Hereford, there were many healings and the like, as
they tell me. And at Marden, where Offa built at once the little
church which should mark where Ethelbert was hidden, that water
which welled from the place whence we took him healed many.
Now we went forth from the church for a little while, and presently
I went back alone and placed the little gift which Etheldrida had
given me on the breast of the king, hiding it next his heart in his
robes. I had learned that they would not be moved again. Ealdwulf
knew that I had done it, and when I came back to him, where he
talked yet with Erling in the reeve's chamber, he asked me if I
knew what the little case held. I did not, and that is known to
none save to her who gave it me.
"I think that you two will value this more than other men," he said
then.
And with that he gave us each a little silken bag, square, with a
cross and a letter E worked thereon. He had cut for us each a lock
from the head of Ethelbert, and had it set hastily thus for us. And
he was right as to the way in which we held it of more worth than
aught else. Hilda wrought the little cases as she sat waiting in
the house. It is my word that mine shall go to my last resting with
me.
Now all too soon the dusk came, and we must set ourselves back from
these wondrous things that had been to the ways of hard warriors
again, with a precious charge in our keeping. With Hilda we supped,
and then it was dark. Out in the stables the horses stood ready, my
brown second steed being made ready for the lady, and Erling's
second carrying the packs, as on our first journey from Norfolk.
And then we heard the last words of farewell from the archbishop,
and knelt for his blessing, even as the watch mustered outside in
the street, and the last wayfarer hurried into or from the gates,
and I heard the horns which told their closing. It was dark
overhead, and the moon had not yet climbed far into the sky; which
was as well for our passing the ford unseen, if Gymbert had it
watched.
Then the reeve came in, armed and ready, and we must go. There was
a little sobbing from the good wife, as was no doubt fitting, but
by no means cheering; and so we passed from the warmly-lit little
hall into the street, and mounted, clattering away toward the
westward gate of the town, with the reeve ahead and two of his men
after us.
The gates swung open for us, and two wayfarers took advantage
thereof to get inside, which was to their good fortune. Then we had
a quarter of a mile of road to pass before we came to the ford
below the field where our camp had been when we came. After us the
gates were shut again, and we rode on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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