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
So I found them, and then, creeping up the bank, I stood still and
peered out into the darkness. Yet it was not so dark on the water (which
gleamed a little in the tide swirls here and there beyond half a mile of
mud, black as pitch in contrast) but that I could make out at last six
long black ships, lying as it seemed on the edge of the ooze. And I
could hear, too, hoarse voices crying out on board of them, and now and
then the rattle of anchor chains or the like, when the wind blew from
them to me.
And ever those ships crept nearer to me, so that I knew they were edging
up to the land as the tide rose.
That learnt, I knew what to do. I ran to the nearest fishers' hut, and
pulled handfuls of the thatch from under the eaves, piling it to
windward against the wooden walls. Then I fired the heap, and it blazed
up bright and strong, and at once came a great howl of rage from the
ships, plain to be heard, for they knew that now they might not land
unknown.
So had I warned Osric the Sheriff, and that matter was out of my hands.
And, moreover, Wulfhere, being an old and tried warrior, would be warned
as well. That, however, I would see to myself, and, if I could, I would
aid him in getting Alswythe into a place of safety. So I ran back,
bending my steps now towards her father's hall, up the roadway, if one
might so call the track through the marshland that led thither.
Just at the foot of the hill I met three men of the outpost, who were
hurrying down to see what my fire meant. They challenged me, halting
with levelled spears across the track. Then was I glad of the password,
and answered by giving it.
"Right!" said the man who seemed to be the leader. "What news?"
I told him quickly, bidding him waste no time, but hurry back and tell
the sheriff that the Danes would be ashore in half an hour. I spoke as I
was wont to speak when I was a thane, forgetting in the dire need of the
moment that I was an outlaw now, and the man was offended thereat.
"Who are you to command me thus?" he said shortly.
"Heregar, the thane of Cannington." said I, still only anxious that he
should go quickly.
"Heard one ever the like!" said the man, and then I remembered.
I looked round at my fire. Two huts were burning now, very brightly, for
the wind fanned the flames.
"Saw you ever the like?" I said, and pointed. "Now, will you go?"
The bright light shone on a row of flashing, gilded dragon heads on the
ships' stems--on lines of starlike specks beyond them, which were
helms and mail coats--and on lines again of smaller stars above, which
were spear points.
"Holy saints!" cried the man, adding a greater oath yet; "be you Heregar
the outlaw or no, truth you tell, and well have you done. Let us begone,
men!"
And with that those three leapt away into the darkness up the hill,
leaving me to follow if I listed.
That was not my way, however, and I ran on to Matelgar's hall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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