Fantasy fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Fiction; Space and time -- Fiction
"'Now," said Witta, when the ship was loaded, "I counsel you strangers
to pray to your Gods, for, from here on, our road is No Man's road." He
and his men killed a black goat for sacrifice on the bows; and the
Yellow Man brought out a small, smiling image of dull-green stone and
burned incense before it. Hugh and I commended ourselves to God, and
Saint Barnabas, and Our Lady of the Assumption, who was specially dear
to my Lady. We were not young, but I think no shame to say whenas we
drove out of that secret harbour at sunrise over a still sea, we two
rejoiced and sang as did the knights of old when they followed our
great Duke to England. Yet was our leader an heathen pirate; all our
proud fleet but one galley perilously overloaded; for guidance we
leaned on a pagan sorcerer; and our port was beyond the world's end.
Witta told us that his father Guthrum had once in his life rowed along
the shores of Africa to a land where naked men sold gold for iron and
beads. There had he bought much gold, and no few elephants' teeth, and
thither by help of the Wise Iron would Witta go. Witta feared
nothing--except to be poor.
"'My father told me," said Witta, "that a great Shoal runs three days'
sail out from that land, and south of the shoal lies a Forest which
grows in the sea. South and east of the Forest my father came to a
place where the men hid gold in their hair; but all that country, he
said, was full of Devils who lived in trees, and tore folk limb from
limb. How think ye?"
"'Gold or no gold," said Hugh, fingering his sword, "it is a joyous
venture. Have at these Devils of thine, Witta!"
"'Venture!" said Witta sourly. "I am only a poor sea-thief. I do not
set my life adrift on a plank for joy, or the venture. Once I beach
ship again at Stavanger, and feel the wife's arms round my neck, I'll
seek no more ventures. A ship is heavier care than a wife or cattle."
'He leaped down among the rowers, chiding them for their little
strength and their great stomachs. Yet Witta was a wolf in fight, and
a very fox in cunning.
'We were driven South by a storm, and for three days and three nights
he took the stern-oar, and threddled the longship through the sea.
When it rose beyond measure he brake a pot of whale's oil upon the
water, which wonderfully smoothed it, and in that anointed patch he
turned her head to the wind and threw out oars at the end of a rope, to
make, he said, an anchor at which we lay rolling sorely, but dry. This
craft his father Guthrum had shown him. He knew, too, all the
Leech-Book of Bald, who was a wise doctor, and he knew the Ship-Book of
Hlaf the Woman, who robbed Egypt. He knew all the care of a ship.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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