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
I did not heed this much, but there was more in it than one would
think. What the drinking of that potent wine might lead to was to
be seen. I hold that Offa was not himself thereafter, though none
might say that he was aught but as a king should be--not, like the
housecarls at the end of the hail, careless of how the unwonted
plenty of that feast blinded them and stole their wits.
Presently, indeed, the noise and heat of the hall irked me, and I
found my way out. It was a broad moonlight night, and the shadows
were long across the courtyard. There was a strong guard at the
gate, which was closed, and far off to the westward there twinkled
a red fire or two on hill peaks. They were the watch fires of the
Welshmen, and I suppose they looked at the bright glare from the
palace windows as I looked at their posts.
In the little chapel the lamp burned as ever, but no one stirred
near it. I thought I would find Father Selred in our lodging, and
turned that way; and as I passed the corner of the chapel I met a
man who was coming from the opposite direction.
"Ho!" he said, starting a little; "why, it is the Frank. What has
led you to leave the hall so early?"
Then I knew that it was Gymbert the marshal.
"I might ask you the same," I said, laughing. "I have not learned
to keep up a feast overlong in the camps of Carl, however, and I
was for my bed."
"Nay, but a walk will bring sleep," he said. "I have my rounds to
make, and I shall be glad of a companion. Come with me awhile."
So we visited the guard, and with them spoke of the fires I had
seen, and laughed at the fears of those who had lighted them.
"All very well to laugh," said the captain at the gate; "but if the
Welsh are out, it will be ill for any one who will ride westward
tonight. Chapman, or priest, or beggar man, he is likely to find a
broad arrow among his ribs first, and questioned as to what his
business may be afterward."
Then we went along the ramparts to the rearward gate; and it seemed
as if Gymbert had somewhat on his mind, for he fell silent now and
then, for no reason which I could fathom. However, he asked me a
few questions about the life in Carl's court, and so on, until he
learned that I was a Wessex man, and that I was not going back to
him.
"Then you are at a loose end for the time?" he said. "Why not take
service here with Offa?"
"I am for home so soon as this is over," I said. "If all is well
there, I have no need to serve any man."
"So you have not been home yet," he said slowly, as if turning over
some thought in his mind. "What if I asked you to help me in some
small service here and now? You are free, and no man's man, as one
may say."
"Nor do I wish to be," I answered dryly.
I did not like this Gymbert.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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