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
Then, of course, we must talk of the court of King Carl, and of all
that I had seen and done beyond the sea, and the time went fast. I
had my breakfast with the king there in his private chamber, for he
wanted to hear of laws and the like, of which, to tell the truth, I
could let him know little.
"Best ask the old paladin who is the head of the embassy, King
Ethelbert," I said presently. "I can tell you how Carl manages the
sword; but of the way he wields the sceptre, I cannot. Mayhap I
shall mislead you."
"No," he answered; "I would hear how his way seems to a plain
Englishman as myself. My chancellor shall talk with the paladin."
Then at last he started up, and cried:
"Why, I have forgotten somewhat. I promised to take you to my
mother's bower to be thanked by the Lady Hilda. Come with me at
once."
"There is Werbode," I said.
"Let him wait," said Ethelbert. "It is the thane on the great pied
horse whom she will thank."
I wondered whether it was the steed or myself she remembered best,
which was not courteous of me. Ethelbert laughed and told me so,
adding that he thought after all that the horse would be noticed
first. He was the first thing which had caught his own eye when we
rode into the palace yard on our coming, certainly, so I had to
stand another jest or two about him.
We came to the bower, across a fair garden where the May flowers
were gay and sweet, and the king knocked at the door. It was a
handsome, low-built little hall which stood at right angles to the
great one, so that it had a door opening on the high place where we
sat at table. Its windows on this garden side were wide and high,
and this morning the heavy shutters were flung back from each, and
the curtains were drawn aside, for it faced south to the warm sun.
There were bright faces of the queen-mother's ladies at one or two
as they sat in the deep window seats working or spinning, and
anywise laughing with one another; whereon I grew bashful, for of
ladies' talk and presence I have a sort of fear, being more used to
camp than court, as I have said.
However, we went in, and there we stood on a floor strewn with
sweet sedge in a fair hall, tapestry hung, full of sunlight, and of
ladies also. There was a high place here at one end, and on it sat
the mother of the king, not in any state, but working at a little
loom, whose beams were all carven and made beautiful for her royal
hands. There were two ladies helping her, and they rose as the king
entered, as did all the others, and there was a sudden silence.
I should have been happier if only they had paid no heed to us, and
with all my heart I wished myself elsewhere. Nor did I dare look
round for the Lady Hilda, and so kept my eyes fixed more or less on
the ground, or else trying to seem unconcerned, looking foolish, no
doubt, in that effort. It came to me that one of my shoes was
muddy, and that I could not remember having combed my hair this
morning.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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