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
There were rough huts across the camp, set more or less at random,
and among them burned the fires which we had seen. There would be
about fifty men at most in the place, now that all had returned;
but the prince told me presently that he had had more when first
the alarm had been raised that Offa was summoning his thanes to him
for some unknown reason; whereby I gathered that here he had waited
for us.
"Lady," he said, as he helped Hilda from her horse, "your father is
but weak. I think that he began to mend when I told him that
doubtless you would be here tonight. I hope your ride has been easy
and without alarm."
"Hardly," said the chief who had rescued us. "It was a hard ride
for a matter of ten minutes, and we were frightened sorely. The
lady is the bravest I have ever met, for she screamed not once; and
the thanes are no bad judges of cattle raiding."
"Why, you have met with men after your own heart, Kynan," laughed
Jefan. "More of that tale by-and-by.
"Well, lady, you are safe, and that is the best. Now you shall see
your father.
"See to our guests, brother."
Jefan took Hilda's hand and led her to the best of the huts, and,
with a word to one within, entered. In a moment he was out again,
with a smile on his face in the firelight. I knew from that how
Sighard had met his daughter.
Kynan gave some orders to his men, and they took our horses,
leading them to a far corner of the camp. After that we were set
down to a great supper, and the tale of the flight and the raid was
told and retold. Then at last one fetched a little gilded harp, and
Kynan ap Huwal, the raider of cattle, set the whole story into
song, and did it well and sweetly.
After that was done came a white-haired priest, and we knelt for
the vespers; and then the watch was set under the moonlight, and
Erling and I stood in the gateway of the fort, and looked out on
the quiet land below us. It was no very great hill, but the place
was strong. How old it may be I cannot say, perhaps no man knows;
but since Offa drove the Welsh to the Wye it had been set in order,
with a stockade halfway down the steep earthwork round the hill
crest, so that men on its top could use their weapons on those who
were trying to scale it. The dry ditch was deep and steep sided,
and, so far as I could see in the moonlight, on this side at least
it would need a strong force to take it by storm, were it fairly
manned by say two hundred men. The gate had been made afresh of
heavy timber, narrow, and flanked on either side by overhanging
mounds, whence men could rain javelins on those who tried to force
it; and outside the gate were slight fences, which bent in wide
half circles, inside which the cattle we had driven in were penned.
Peaceful enough it all was, and the stillness of this hilltop after
the long unrest seemed as of a very haven after storm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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