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
"He would have done better to attack at one point only," said
Jefan, sitting down on the rampart above the gate. "He might have
overwhelmed us so, for he has men enough."
His brother laughed.
"There is a difference between us in this way," he said, "and it is
a great one: there is little fight in his men, and we must needs
fight our best. Listen! they are passing some word round."
So it was, for there fell a silence on the humming men below us,
and we could hear muttered words from one to another. Then the
attack came again from the same three places, but I thought it was
not pushed home as at first. Nor did it last so long. In a few
minutes men began to get out of the ditch and away down the
hillside while the Welsh were too busy to shoot at them. There they
scattered, and stood and watched. And then the attack on the gate
ceased, and back the foe went.
"After them, and scourge them home to their mistress," shouted
Kynan, leaping down to the gateway, where his men did but wait some
word which should tell them to throw it open for a sally.
I looked for Jefan; but he was across the camp, seeing hastily to
the weakened places in the stockade.
"Kynan," I cried, "have a care! This is what they want you to do!
Wait!"
For I could see that in the open Gymbert had the advantage of
numbers, and I suspected that he was trying to draw the fiery Welsh
from their works. There was surely some reason for this
half-hearted attack on the stockade that had been already proved
too strong.
He did not hear me. It is in my mind that I may have called to him
in the Frankish tongue of my last warfare. That is likely enough,
for with the clash of arms again I know I had been thinking in the
familiar tongue once more. I do not know, but again I called him,
and he seemed not to hear. The gate flew open, and with a wild yell
of victory out went the Welshmen, with the prince at their head.
Jefan heard and turned back, and called to him to stay; but he also
was too late. He had but a dozen men with him, while from the
opposite side of the camp those who had driven off their foes had
joined those who poured out with Kynan. One or two of Jefan's men
shouted, and went with them, unheeding the call of their leader to
stay.
Then in a moment I knew what the word which had been passed meant.
The Mercians who had drawn off from the side attacks closed up and
charged down on the scattered Welsh, on whose pursuit Gymbert and
his men turned. We could do naught but stand and watch, helpless,
for we dared not leave the gate, which we could not close against
the retreat which must come.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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