King Olaf's Kinsman: A Story of the Last Saxon Struggle against the Danes in the Days of Ironside and CnutWhistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts)
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King Olaf's Kinsman: A Story of the Last Saxon Struggle against the Danes in the Days of Ironside and Cnut
Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts)
Olav II, King of Norway, 995-1030 -- Fiction
"Keep that memory of her therefore," Gunnhild said. "I would not
have you see her in sickness, nor may she be waked without danger.
Tell your mother that surely if she could take Hertha with her it
should be so, but it may not be. She would be harmed by a long
journey."
The old nurse turned and left me as swiftly as she had come. And
now it is in my mind that she went thus lest she should weep. So I
was alone in the hall, and there was no more left for me to do. I
must even let things be as she would. It came into my thought that
she was right about our half-Danish folk, for though they had
fought to keep the newcomers from the land that their fathers had
won, Swein was no foreigner, and they would as soon own him as
Ethelred of Wessex, if he got the upper hand and would give them
peace. Even we Angles never forgot that the race of Ecgberht was
Saxon and not of our own kin altogether. The Dane was as near to us
as the Wessex king, save by old comradeship, and the ties that had
come with years.
So all that Edred and I could do was to bid the steward take his
orders from Gunnhild, and so ride back to Bures along the riverside
track. And when we came there the long train of flying people were
crossing the bridge, and we rode past them one by one, and the
sight of those wain loads of helpless women and children was the
most piteous I had ever seen. Many such another train was I to look
on in the years to come, but none ever wrung my heart as this, for
I knew every face so well. Yet I thought they would be safe, for
the Danes were far off yet, and there was full time to gain the
depths of the forest land on the East Saxon side.
Now, our people had gone on more quickly than the villagers by
reason of better cattle and more hands to the work, and when we had
passed the foremost of these, the road went up the hill and no man
was upon it. So we went quickly, and then came one on foot towards
the village, and just beyond him were our folk, whom he had passed
or left.
It was good Father Ailwin, our old priest, and I thought that he
sought me, or took back some word to others and I would ride back
for him.
"What is it, Father?" I cried, "I will do your errand."
"Nay, my son, you cannot," he said; "your mother drew me to fly
with her, and my weakness bade me do it for a while. But I may not
leave my place. The Danes are not all heathen as they were in
Eadmund's days, and I think that I am wrong to go. When our folk
come back they must find their priest waiting for them."
Then I strove to turn him again to flight with us, but I could not,
and at last he commanded me to desist and leave him. And so he gave
me his blessing, and I went, being sure that he would be slain, and
weeping therefore, for I loved him well. But I told him of Dame
Gunnhild's words, and begged him to seek her and speak with her,
for she might hide him also for a while if he would not leave the
place altogether.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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