Arab countries -- Fiction; Crusades -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Medieval period, 1066-1485 -- Fiction
Away he went, taking flint, steel, and tinder with him, and ten minutes
later the blaze was flaring furiously above the roof of Steeple Church,
warning all men of the need for help. Then they armed, saddled such
horses as they had, amongst them the three that had been left there by
the merchant Georgios, and gathered all of them who were not too sick
to ride or run, in the courtyard of the Hall. But as yet their haste
availed them little, for the moon was down. Snow fell also, and the
night was still black as death—so black that a man could scarcely see
the hand he held before his face. So they must wait, and wait they did,
eating their hearts out with grief and rage, and bathing their aching
brows in icy water.
At length the dawn began to break, and by its first grey light they saw
men mounted and afoot feeling their way through the snow, shouting to
each other as they came to know what dreadful thing had happened at
Steeple. Quickly the tidings spread among them that Sir Andrew was
slain, and the lady Rosamund snatched away by Paynims, while all who
feasted in the place had been drugged with poisoned wine by a man whom
they believed to be a merchant. So soon as a band was got
together—perhaps thirty men in all—and there was light to stir by, they
set out and began to search, though where to look they knew not, for
the snow had covered up all traces of their foes.
“One thing is certain,” said Godwin, “they must have come by water.”
“Ay,” answered Wulf, “and landed near by, since, had they far to go,
they would have taken the horses, and must run the risk also of losing
their path in the darkness. To the Staithe! Let us try Steeple
Staithe.”
So on they went across the meadow to the creek. It lay but three
bow-shots distant. At first they could see nothing, for the snow
covered the stones of the little pier, but presently a man cried out
that the lock of the water house, in which the brethren kept their
fishing-boat, was broken, and next minute, that the boat was gone.
“She was small; she would hold but six men,” cried a voice. “So great a
company could never have crowded into her.”
“Fool!” one answered, “there may have been other boats.”
So they looked again, and beneath the thin coating of rime, found a
mark in the mud by the Staithe, made by the prow of a large boat, and
not far from it a hole in the earth into which a peg had been driven to
make her fast.
Now the thing seemed clear enough, but it was to be made yet clearer,
for presently, even through the driving snow, the quick eye of Wulf
caught sight of some glittering thing which hung to the edge of a clump
of dead reeds. A man with a lance lifted it out at his command, and
gave it to him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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