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
Nevertheless it came into my mind that he had been taken prisoner
at the time of some such landing as that wherein I had first seen
him.
"He is a shipwrecked foreigner, lord," was the answer; "a
masterless man whom I bought from the Lindsey thane on whose manor
shore he was stranded."
But it seemed to me that there was a look of fear in the eyes of
this slave trader. It came when I, whom he had taken for a Frank
noble from my dress, spoke to him in good Wessex. Whereby I had a
shrewd guess that all was not so fair and lawful as he would make
it seem.
"He lies," growled the Dane. "Some thrall picked me up, and this
man took me from him. He was on the prowl for castaways on the morn
of the storm. Nigh dead I was, or would have fought."
He spoke low and quickly, and the trader seemed not to understand
his Danish. But I saw that he spoke the truth.
Now I think that if this shipmate of mine had been fairly taken
captive as he raided, I should have let him take the reward of his
work. But this chance was a different matter.
"Show me the receipt for payment to that thane of whom you speak,"
I said. "If you can, well and good; if not, then we will go to the
sheriff and see this matter righted. I know the man as a freeman."
"Ay, in his own land," said the trader, beginning to bluster. "What
is that to me? Here in England he is masterless--"
"No," said the Dane; "this is my master. Heard you not how I owned
to a black eye from him?"
And he looked at me in a half proud way which told me how the bonds
had broken him, and yet how they had not yet made him shameless if
he must beg me for help to freedom.
Then said Werbode quietly:
"Where is that receipt? I suppose that if you paid for his man, my
friend has to repay you for ransoming him. It is a simple matter."
"I do not carry it with me, stranger. You know not this land of
ours. It is at my inn. I can show it, of course."
"Well, then," said I, "I will take my man and answer for him. Bring
the writing to the house of the sheriff, where I lodge, and what is
there set down I will pay you."
Now there were a dozen idlers gathered by this time, and seeing
that the trader hesitated, I called to one, who seemed to be a
forester by his staff and green jerkin, and bade him fetch the
sheriff, if he could find him. I would have the matter settled
here. Whereon the slaver gave in.
"Well, then," he grumbled, "I hold you answerable for him. Take
him, and get your money ready.
"Let him free," he said, turning to his men.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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