At that word it was to Walter as if all that trouble which but now had
sat so light upon him, was once again fresh and heavy, and that his past
life of the last few months had never been; and it was to him as if he
saw his father lying dead on his bed, and heard the folk lamenting about
the house. He held his peace awhile, and then he said in a voice as of
an angry man:
"What, Arnold! and did he die in his bed, or how? for he was neither old
nor ailing when we parted."
Said Arnold: "Yea, in his bed he died: but first he was somewhat sword-
bitten."
"Yea, and how?" quoth Walter.
Said Arnold: "When thou wert gone, in a few days' wearing, thy father
sent thy wife out of his house back to her kindred of the Reddings with
no honour, and yet with no such shame as might have been, without blame
to us of those who knew the tale of thee and her; which, God-a-mercy,
will be pretty much the whole of the city."
"Nevertheless, the Reddings took it amiss, and would have a mote with us
Goldings to talk of booting. By ill-luck we yea-said that for the saving
of the city's peace. But what betid? We met in our Gild-hall, and there
befell the talk between us; and in that talk certain words could not be
hidden, though they were none too seemly nor too meek. And the said
words once spoken drew forth the whetted steel; and there then was the
hewing and thrusting! Two of ours were slain outright on the floor, and
four of theirs, and many were hurt on either side. Of these was thy
father, for as thou mayst well deem, he was nought backward in the fray;
but despite his hurts, two in the side and one on the arm, he went home
on his own feet, and we deemed that we had come to our above. But well-a-
way! it was an evil victory, whereas in ten days he died of his hurts.
God have his soul! But now, my master, thou mayst well wot that I am not
come to tell thee this only, but moreover to bear the word of the
kindred, to wit that thou come back with me straightway in the swift
cutter which hath borne me and the tidings; and thou mayst look to it,
that though she be swift and light, she is a keel full weatherly."
Then said Walter: "This is a bidding of war. Come back will I, and the
Reddings shall wot of my coming. Are ye all-boun?"
"Yea," said Arnold, "we may up anchor this very day, or to-morrow morn at
latest. But what aileth thee, master, that thou starest so wild over my
shoulder? I pray thee take it not so much to heart! Ever it is the wont
of fathers to depart this world before their sons."
But Walter's visage from wrathful red had become pale, and he pointed up
street, and cried out: "Look! dost thou see?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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