"Through the gray willows danced the fretful gnat,
The grasshopper chirped idly from the tree,
In sleek and oily coat the water-rat,
Breasting the little ripples manfully
Made for the wild-duck's nest."
They won to land, with the aid of a floating oar. Hyla and Cerdic were
for getting back to Icomb and explaining what had befallen them to the
fathers, but Huber flatly refused to accompany them. He said it was his
duty to go back to Hilgay and say what had become of his comrades, and
how they had met their end.
"But if you tell Lord Fulke how you have eaten and slept in
friendship--for we must rest and eat before we go--with those that did
kill his father, what then?" said Cerdic.
"Lord Fulke would not dare harm me for that, even were I to tell him. I
am too well liked among the men. Natheless, I shall say nothing. I shall
say that I clomb on the boat, and won the shore, and so made my way
home. Look you to this. Can I give up the only life I know, and my
master, and eke my wife to serve the priests, or live hunted and outlaw
in the fens with you?" He argued it out with perfect fairness and good
sense, and, with a sinking of the heart, they saw that their ways must
indeed lie very far apart.
Material considerations made the whole thing difficult. They were in an
unenviable position, and one of great danger, and their only means of
transport was the one boat. "There is only one way," said Cerdic, "and
that is this: we must row over the lake to the Priory first, and then
leave the boat with Huber to make his own way back over the lake and
through the fenways."
The man-at-arms crossed himself with fervour.
"Not I," he said. "I would not venture again upon that accursed lake for
my life. It is cursed. You have heard of the Great Black Hand? It is an
evil place, and has taken many of my good comrades. Leave you me here
and go your ways. I will try to get back through the fen."
"Art no fenman, Huber, and canst scarcely swim. Also, that is the most
dangerous part of the fen, the miles between the river and this lake.
It's nought but pools, waterways, and bog. You could not go a mile."
"Then I will stay here and rot. There is no mortal power that shall make
me upon that water more."
There was such genuine superstitious terror in his face and voice that
they felt it useless to attempt persuasion, and they cast about in their
minds for some other solution of the difficulty. It was long in coming,
for in truth the problem was very difficult. At last it was solved,
poorly enough, but with a certain possibility of safety.
The three men had landed but a few hundred yards from the opening of the
waterway which led to Hilgay, winding in devious routes among the fen.
To regain the monastery there were two ways--One, the obvious route, by
simply crossing the great lake, for the Abbey was almost exactly
opposite, and the other, most difficult and dangerous, to skirt the lake
side, where there was but little firm ground, and go right round it to
the Priory.
Seeing no help for it, they decided on attempting that. Huber was to
have the big, heavy boat, and as best he could, make his way back to
Hilgay. It was a curious decision to have arrived at. By all possible
rights, Hyla and Cerdic should have kept the boat for their own use, and
let Huber shift as best he could. He was, or rather had been, an enemy;
they had not only treated him with singular kindness, but he owed his
very life to them. It is difficult to exactly gauge their motive.
Probably their long slavery had something of its influence with them.
Despite their new ideals and the stupendous upheaval of their lives, it
is certain that they could hardly avoid regarding Huber from the
standpoint of their serfdom. He had been one of their rulers, and there
still clung to him some savour of authority. Yet it was not all this
feeling that influenced them. Some nobler and deeper instinct of
self-denial and kindness had made them do this thing.
In a closed locker, in the stern of the boat, they found some fishing
lines, and a flint for making fire. It was easy to get food, and they
spent the day resting and fishing. At length night fell softly over the
wanderers, and they fell asleep round the fire, while the other went
scraping among the reeds searching for fresh-water mussels, and the
night wind sent black ripples over all the pools and the great lake
beyond.
They were early up, catching more fish for breakfast, and, rather
curiously for those times, they bathed in the fresh cold water, whereby
they were most heartily refreshed and put into good courage. Then came
the time of parting. It was fraught with a certain melancholy, for they
had seemed very close together in their common danger.
"I doubt we shall ever clap eyes on you again, Huber," Hyla said.
"Cerdic and I are not likely to trouble Hilgay again, unless indeed my
lord catch us again, and I think there is but little fear of that."
"No, friend Hyla," said the man-at-arms; "we must say a long good-bye
this morn."
"You will get back in a day," said Cerdic, "though boat be heavy and the
way not easy. What tale will you tell Lord Fulke?"
"Just truth, Cerdic, though indeed I shall not tell all the truth. I
shall tell how my good comrades died, and how I did win to land with you
two, and left you by the mere. I shall tell Lord Fulke that I could not
over-come you, for that you were two to my one, and eke armed. That you
saved me from the water I must not say, though well I should like to do
so. They would think that I was in league with you, and had failed in my
duty, if I said anything to your credit."
"Without doubt," said Hyla.
"You are right, Huber. But I do not look to see Hilgay again."
"And I pray that you never may, friend, for your end would be a very
terrible and bloody one. And now hear me. You have taken me to your
hearts that did come to use you shamefully. My life is your gift, and I
will save pennies that prayer may be made for you by some priest that
you be kept from harm, and win quiet and safety. Moreover, never will I
do ill to any serf again, for your sakes. For you are good and true men,
and have my love. Often I shall remember you and the lake and all that
has come about, when I am far away. And give me your hand and say
farewell, and Lord Christ have you safe."
They said the saddest of all human words, "farewell," and turning he
left them. The big boat moved slowly away among the reeds until it was
hidden from their sight. Once they thought they heard his voice in a
distant shout of farewell, and they called loudly in answer, but there
was no response but the lapping of the water on the reeds.
"A true man," said Hyla sadly.
"I think so," said Cerdic, "and there are many like him also. We have
never known them, or they us, but chance has changed that for once.
Nevertheless I am not sorry he has gone. We are of one kind and he of
another, and best apart. Let us set out round the lake; we have a long
task before us, and I fear dangerous."
They gathered up their fishing lines and the remaining fish, which they
had cooked for their journey, and set out upon it.
They were full of hope and courage, resolute to surmount the perils and
difficulties which were before them, and yet, all innocent of fate, one
was going to a sudden death and the other was moving towards an
adventure which would end in death and torture also.
It is surely a very good and wise ordering of affairs, that we do not
often have a warning of what shall shortly befall us. Only rarely do we
feel the cold air from the wings of Death beat upon our doomed faces.
Now and then, indeed, we get a glimpse of those unseen principalities
and powers by whom we are for ever surrounded. Women in child-birth
have, so it is said, seen an angel bearing them the new soul they are
going to give to the world, as God's messenger came to Our Lady of old
time.
More often the black angel, who is to take us from one life to another,
presses upon a man's brain that he may know his near translation.
Visions are given to men who have lived as men should live, and have
beaten down Satan under their feet.
A wise and awful hand moves the curtain aside for them. And it is
sometimes so with a great sinner. When that arch scoundrel Geoffroi was
close upon his end, he also had a solemn warning. Fear came to him in
the night and whispered, as you have heard, that he was doomed.
But these two children were given no sign. It was not for them; they
could not have understood it. God is a psychologist, and He watched
these two simple ones very tenderly.
A mile of heavy going lay behind them. Over the quaking fen bright with
evil-looking flowers, as beautiful and treacherous as some pale sensual
woman of the East, they plodded their weary and complacent way.
Lean, brown, old Cerdic was to die. Radiance was waiting for this poor
man, as the sun--how dull beside that greater radiance which was so soon
to illuminate him!--clomb up the sky.
They crossed various ditches and water-ways, leaping some and wading
breast-high through others, covered with floating scum and weeds. Once
or twice a wide pool of black water alive with fish brought them to a
check, and they had to swim over it or make a long detour. After about
three hours their journey became more easy. There was not so much water
about, and the ground, which was covered with fresh, vividly green grass
in wide patches, was much firmer.
Cerdic went on in front with a willow-pole, probing the ground to see if
it was safe for them to venture on, a most necessary precaution in that
land of bog and morass.
They were passing a clump of reeds when, with a quick scurry, a large
hare ran out almost under their feet. Something had happened to one of
its forelegs, for it limped badly, and scrambled along at no great rate.
A hare's leg is a wonderfully fragile piece of mechanism, despite its
enormous power. Often when the animal is leaping it over-balances
itself in mid air, and coming down heavily breaks the thin bone. This
is what had happened to the creature that startled them from the reeds.
The quick eye of the old lawer-of-dogs saw at once that the animal was
injured and could not go very fast. Here was a chance of food which
would be very welcome. With a shout to Hyla he went leaping after it.
His lean, brown legs spread over the ground, hardly seeming to touch it
as he ran. He soon came up with the hare, but just as he was stooping to
grasp it the creature doubled, and was off in a new direction. Hyla saw
Cerdic pick himself up, stumble, recover, and flash away on the new
track. In a minute a tall hedge of reeds, which seemed as if they might
fringe a pool, hid him from view.
Hyla plodded slowly on, wondering if Cerdic would catch the hare, and
thinking with a pleasant stomachic anticipation what a very excellent
meal they might have if that were so. In about five minutes he came up
to the reeds, and just as he approached them his heart gave a great leap
of fear. Cerdic was calling him, but in a voice such as he had never
heard him use before, it was so changed and terrible. Half shout, half
whine, and wholly unnerving. He plunged through the cover, the wet
splashing up round his feet in little jets as he did so, and then he
came across his friend.
Six or more yards away there was a stretch of what at first glance
appeared to be pleasant meadow land, so bright was the grass and so
studded with flowers. In the centre of the space, which might measure
twenty square yards, Cerdic stood engulfed to the waist, and rapidly
sinking deeper. He made superhuman efforts to extricate himself. His
arms beat upon the sward, and his hands clutched terribly at the tufts
of grass and marsh flowers. His face, under all its tan, became a dark
purple, as the terrible pressure on his body increased, and he began to
bleed violently from the nose, and to vomit. Hyla went cautiously
towards him, but every step he took became more dangerous, and he was
forced to stand still in an agony of helplessness. Even in his own
comparative security he could feel the soft caressing ground sucking
eagerly at his feet.
He watched in horror. Slowly now, though with horrible distinctness, the
body of his friend was going from him. The green grass lay round his
arm-pits, and his arms were extended upon it at right angles like the
arms of a man crucified. His fingers kept jumping up and down as if he
were playing upon some instrument.
Then there came a gleam of hope. The motion ceased, and the head and
upper part of the shoulders remained motionless.
"Have you touched bottom, Cerdic?" Hyla called in a queer high-pitched
voice that startled himself.
"No, Hyla," came in thick, difficult reply, "and I die. I am going away
from you, and must say farewell. I have loved you very well, and now
good-bye. I am not afraid. Good-bye. I will pray to God as I die. Do you
also pray, and farewell, farewell!"
He closed his staring eyes, and very gradually the sucking motion
recommenced.
Hyla stared stupidly at this slow torture, unable to move or think.
It was soon over now, and the body sank very quickly away, and left the
survivor gazing without thought at the spot where nothing marked a
grave.
As he watched, a hare with a broken leg began to hobble across the vivid
greenness.