A Thane of Wessex: Being a Story of the Great Viking Raids into Somerset — John Shaqi
A Thane of Wessex: Being a Story of the Great Viking Raids into SomersetWhistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts)
History
A Thane of Wessex: Being a Story of the Great Viking Raids into Somerset
Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts)
Great Britain -- History -- Anglo-Saxon period, 449-1066 -- Juvenile fiction
He came in, looking round, but not seeing me at first through the blue
smoke, for as I knew he would, he entered by the door through which my
guide had gone just now. So I waited till he stood with his hand on his
chair, while the old warrior came down towards me.
Then I strode forward boldly up to the foot of the dais, and looking
steadily a Matelgar, cast the arrow at his feet, saying:
"In the king's name. The levy is at Bridgwater Cross. In all haste."
He threw up his hands as one too terrified to draw sword--who would
ward off some sudden terror--giving back a pace or two, and staring at
me with wild eyes. His face grew white as milk, and drawn, and his
breath went in between his teeth with a long hissing sound. But he spoke
no word, and as he stood there, I turned and walked out into the
courtyard and to the gate, going steadily and without looking round,
like a man who has nothing either to keep or hurry him.
Three grooms, whom I knew, stood with an unbridled horse on one side,
but they were busy and minded me not till I was just at the gate.
Then one said to the other, "Yonder goes Heregar, as I live!"
Then there came a cry like a howl of rage from the hall, but no word of
command as yet, nor did either housecarle come out that I could hear.
Then I was at the gate, and as I passed it, turning sharp to the right,
for that was the nearest way to the woods, I heard one running across
the court.
When I heard that, instead of keeping straight on, I doubled quickly
round the angle of the palisade. By the time I had turned it the man may
have been at the gate, and would think me vanished. But now I ran and
got to cover in a thicket close to the rear of the house. A bad place
enough, but I must chance it.
I could hear shouts now from the courtyard. I looked round for a way to
escape, but to reach the woods I had now a long bit of open ground to
cover, and was puzzled. Then overhead I heard a bird rustle, and I
looked up, and at once a thought came to me. The tree was an old,
gnarled ash, and the leaves on it were thick for the time of year.
Moreover, the branches were so large that surely in the fork I could
find a hiding place. And being so close to the hall, search would be
with little, if any, care.
So with a little difficulty I climbed up, and there, sure enough, found
the tree hollow in the fork, so that if I crouched down none could see
me from below, while, lying flat against a great branch, I could safely
see something of what might be on hand.
I was hardly sure of this when men began to spread here and there about
the place, but mostly going in the direction of the woods. I heard
Matelgar's voice, harsh and loud, promising reward to him who should
bring in the outlaw, dead or alive, and presently saw him stand clear of
the palisading, about a bowshot from me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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