Now I must needs tell somewhat of the way in which Ina won Norton,
for that had so much to do with my fortunes as it turned out,
seeing that all went well by reason of our holding the hill fort,
in which matter, indeed, Thorgils must have his full share of
praise.
Gerent halted in his march when the flying men from the camp came
in to him, telling him that we were in strong force on the hill,
and so our men crossed the Parrett unhindered, and won to the long
crest of the southward spurs of Quantocks, where the Welsh gathered
against Kenwalch in the old days and stayed his farther conquest.
There was some sort of an advance post by this time in the Roman
camp at Roborough, and Ina sent a few men to take it, and that was
easily done. Then Gerent heard that Ina was on him, and went to
meet him, and so the two armies met on the westward slope of the
hills above Norton, and there all day long the battle swayed to and
fro until the Welsh broke and fled back to the town itself. Then
was a long fight across the ramparts, and at last Ina took the
place, and so chased his enemy in hopeless rout across the moorland
westward yet, until there was no chance of any stand being made.
But Gerent escaped, though it was said that it was sorely against
his will. I was told that the old king came to the battle in a
wonderful chariot drawn by four white horses, and that he stood in
it fully armed, bidding his nobles carry him to the forefront of
the fighting, but that they would not heed him. And presently when
they knew that all was lost they hurried him from the field, though
he cursed them, and even hewed at them with his sword to stay them
as they went.
Now Ina's camp was set within the walls of Norton among the yet
smoking ruins of the palace, where not one stone was left on
another; and the Dragon banner of Wessex floated side by side with
the White Horse of the sons of Hengist, where I had been wont to
see the Dragon of the line of Arthur.
All the afternoon of that day Ina sat and saw the long files of
captives pass before him, and I was there to question any he would,
for he knew little or none of the Welsh tongue.
Many of these captives were of high rank, men who had only yielded
when they must, and here and there I knew one of these by sight.
They would be held to ransom by their captors, and the rest,
freeman or thrall, as they had been, would be the slaves of those
who took them, save they also could pay for freedom. It was a sad
enough throng that passed under the shadow of the proud banners.
At last I saw one whom I knew well, and whom the king knew, for it
was Jago. He stood in the line, looking neither to right nor left,
but taking his misfortune like a brave man.
"Here is Jago, the friend of Owen, whom you know, King Ina," I
said.
The king glanced up at the Welsh thane. There was no pride of
conquest in the face of Ina as he gazed at his captives, and when
one came as Jago came he looked little at him, lest he should seem
to exult.
"Take him, and do what you will with him, Oswald. We owe you much
again; if you see others for whom you would speak, tell me. I will
deal with friends of Owen as you will. That is known already, and
none will gainsay it."
I thanked the king quietly, but none the less heartily, and I ran
my eyes down the line, but I saw no more known faces. So I went
after Jago, who had passed on.
"Friend, you are free," I said. "That is the word of our king, for
the sake of old friendship."
He could not answer, but the light leapt into his eyes, and he held
out his hand to me. Then I took him to the tent which my
house-carles had pitched next the king's, where Nunna's should have
been, and bade him sit down there. Then I went out and brought up
my own prisoners, passing the commoners into the hands of the men
who had been with me, but keeping the chief until the last. Two of
the house-carles led him up, and his face had as black a scowl on
it as I had ever seen, and he looked sullenly at us.
"Who is he?" asked Ina, turning towards me.
I did not know, and, to tell the truth, had forgotten to ask him in
the waiting for news of Nunna. So I asked him his name with all
courtesy, and could win no answer from him but a blacker scowl than
ever. Judging from his arms, which were splendid, and of the half
Roman pattern that Howel wore, he might be of some note. I thought
Jago might know him, so I asked him.
"Mordred, prince of Morganwg {iii}, from across the channel,"
he answered, looking from the tent door. "He is a prize for whoever
took him. Gerent sent word to several of those princes, and his men
are somewhere in the country yet, I suppose. They came at Gerent's
invitation."
I went back to Ina, who had set the chief aside for the moment, and
when some other man's captives had passed, bound to a long cord, my
men brought him forward again.
"Ask him what brought him here," said Ina, when he heard who he
was.
"I have a mind not to answer you," Mordred growled, when I put the
question, "but seeing that there is no use in keeping silence, I
will tell you. I hate Saxons, and so when Gerent asked me I came to
help him."
"With your men?"
"A shipload of them. They are up in the hills yonder, where you
left them, I suppose; and they will be a trouble to you until they
get home, if they can. I am well quit of the cowards."
Now I began to understand how it was that this force went aside to
fall on Watchet, and had little heart in the defence of the camp.
They were strangers, who hated the name of the Northmen from their
own knowledge of them, and could not miss a chance of a fight with
them here. After that the men of Gerent who were with them at the
camp cared nought for their strange leader.
"Take him, and hold him to ransom, Oswald," Ina said, when I told
him all this. "From all I ever heard of Morganwg, he should be some
sort of reward for what you have done. I should set his price high
also, for he deserves it for coming here."
So I took Mordred to my tent, telling him that I must speak of him
of ransom.
"Ransom? Of course, that will be paid. What price do you set on
me?"
Now that was a question on which I had no thought ready, seeing
that I had never held any man of much rank to ransom before, and I
hesitated. At last I remembered what some great Mercian thane had
to pay to Owen some years ago, and I named that sum, which was good
enough for me and Erpwald and Thorgils to share between us.
Thereon his face flushed red, and he scowled fiercely at me.
"What!--Is that the value of a prince of Morganwg? It is ill to
insult a captive."
"Nay, Prince, there is no insult--"
"By St. Petroc, but there is, though! What will the men of
Morganwg--what will the Dyfed men say when they hear that the Saxon
holds one of the line of Arthur at the value of a hundred cows? Ay,
that is how I shall be known henceforth!--Mordred of the cows,
forsooth."
He was working himself up into a rage now, and even Jago from the
corner of the tent where he sat, dejectedly enough, began to smile.
I had spoken of fair coined silver, and I had some trouble myself
in keeping a grave face when this Welsh prince counted the cost of
cattle therein.
"Will you double the sum, Prince?" I asked in all good faith.
"I will pay the ransom that is fitting for a prince of Morganwg to
pay when his foes have the advantage of him. The honour of the
Cymro is concerned."
"Ask him his value," said Jago in Saxon, knowing that Mordred did
not understand that tongue at all. "Never was so good a chance of
selling a man at his own price."
Then I could not help a smile, and Mordred waxed furious. He turned
on Jago with his fist clenched.
"Silence, you miserable--"
"Prince, Prince," I cried. "He did but bid me ask you what was
fitting."
"Well, then, do it," he cried, stamping impatiently, and glaring at
Jago yet.
It was plain that if he did not understand the Saxon he saw that
there was some jest.
"It is a hard matter for me to set a price on you, Prince," I said
gravely. "I have never held one of your rank to ransom before, so
that you will forgive seeming discourtesy if I have unwittingly
done what was not fitting in the matter. What would the men of your
land think worthy of you?"
"Once," he said slowly, "it was the ill luck of my--of some
forebear of mine to have to be ransomed. They paid so much for
him."
He named a sum in good Welsh gold that it had never come into my
mind to dream of. It was riches for all three of us. And I dared
not say that it was too much and somewhat like foolishness, for it
was his own valuation. So I held my peace.
"Not enough?" he asked, not angrily, but as if it would be an
honour to hear that I set him higher. "What more shall I add?"
"No more, Prince. I see that I have yet things to learn."
Truly, I had always heard that the tale of the golden tribute to
Rome from Britain had tempted my forebears here first of all, and
now I believed it. I suppose these Welsh princes had hoards which
had been carried from out of the way of us Saxons and Angles long
ago.
"Ay, you have," Mordred said grimly. "One day it shall be what the
worth of a British prince is in good cold steel, maybe. Now let me
have a messenger who shall take word to my people and bring back
what is needed."
He scowled when I mentioned Thorgils, but he knew him by repute at
least, and was willing to trust him, as I would do so. In the end,
therefore, it was he who took the signet ring and the letter the
prince had written and brought back the gold. Some of the coins
were of the days of Cunobelin, but the most of it was in bars and
rings and chains, wrought for traffic by weight.
Now I will say at once that neither of my comrades would share in
this ransom, though I thought that it was a matter between the
three of us, as leaders of the force that day.
"Not I," quoth Thorgils--"the man was your own private captive, for
you sent him down yourself. What do I want with that pile of gold?
I have enough and to spare already, and I should only hoard it. Or
else I should just give it back to you for a wedding present by and
by. What? Shaking your head? Well, what becomes of all my songs if
they end not in a wedding? Have a care, Oswald, and see that you
make up your mind in time."
So he went away, laughing at me, but afterward I did make him
promise that if he needed a new ship at any time he would tell me,
so that I might give him one for the sake of the first voyage in
the old vessel, and that pleased him well.
Now I told Ina this, being always accustomed to refer anything to
him, and he was not surprised to hear that the Norseman would not
take the gold.
"And if I may advise," he said, "I would not offer a share to
Erpwald; for, in the first place, he does not expect it, seeing
that the captive is yours only, by all right of war; and in the
next, he deems that you have already given him Eastdean, and he is
not so far wrong. So it would hurt him. He will be all the happier
now that he will know that you have withal to buy four Eastdeans,
if you will."
So against my will, as it were, that day made a rich man of me.
Presently I gave the wealth into the hand of Herewald the
ealdorman, and he so managed it, being a great trader in his way,
that it seemed to grow somewise, and I have a yearly sum therefrom
in ways that are hard to be understood by me, but which seem simple
enough to him.
I handed over Mordred to the Norsemen to keep until Thorgils
returned with the ransom, for before we could rest with the sword
in its scabbard again it was needful that all care should be taken
for the holding of the new land we had won, and Ina would see to
that himself. Here and there we had fighting, but the Welsh never
gathered again in force against us, and at last we held every town
and camp from sea to sea along the line of the hills that run from
Exmoor southwards, and there was our new border.
Jago went back to Exeter, seeing that his house was burnt at Norton
with the rest of the town, and I heard afterwards that there he had
found his wife, whom he had sent away when the certainty of war
arose. I was in no trouble for him, as he had houses elsewhere.
But we sent Erpwald back to Glastonbury in all haste, and he was in
nowise loth to go, as may be supposed. One may also guess how he
was received there. Then, as soon as Ina came back with us all, the
ealdorman set to work to prepare afresh the wedding that was so
strangely and suddenly broken in upon, and it was likely to be
little less joyous that it had been so.
On the evening before the wedding the ealdorman came to me, when
the day's duties were over, and said that Elfrida wished to speak
to me. So I went, of course, not at all troubling that the
ealdorman could not tell me what was to be said, for there were
many things concerning tomorrow's arrangements with which I was
charged in one way or another.
So I found her waiting me alone, in that chamber off the hall where
her father and I spoke of the poisoning.
"I have not sent for you for nothing, Oswald," she said, blushing a
little as if it were a hard matter she had to speak of. "There is
somewhat on my mind that I must needs disburden."
"Open confession is good," I said, laughing--"what is it?
"Well--have you forgotten your vow of last Yuletide?"
"Not in the least. Would you have me do so? For that were somewhat
hard."
"No--but yes, in a way."
There she stopped for a moment, and I waited for her to go on, not
having any very clear notion of what was to come. She turned away
from me somewhat, letting her fingers play over one of the tall
horns on the table, when she spoke again.
"It has been in my mind that you--that maybe you thought that I
have been hard on you--in ways, since we spoke in the orchard."
So that was what troubled her, but I did not see why she should
have spoken of it, seeing that a lady has no need at all to justify
her ways in such a matter, surely.
"No," I answered, "that I never thought. If my vow displeased you,
or maybe rather if I displeased you thereafter, I had no reason to
blame any one but myself for the way in which it was needful that I
should be shewn that so it was. It was just the best thing for me,
for it cured me of divers kinds of foolishnesses."
"That is what I would have heard you say," she said with a
light-hearted laugh enough, while her face cleared. "Now I can say
what I will. Do you know that you have kept your vow to the full
already?"
"Not at all. There are long years before you yet, as one may hope."
"Ay, Oswald, and through you those years seem bright to look
forward to. See, through you has come Erpwald, and now you have
kept his life for me at risk of your own. All my life long I shall
thank you for those two things. Surely your vow is fulfilled, for
this will be lifelong service. There is more that I would say to
you, but I cannot."
She turned away again, weeping for very happiness, as I think, that
could not be told, and I had no word to speak that was worth
uttering, though I must say somewhat.
"It will be good to think of you two together--"
"In the place you have given us," she broke in on me. "Love and a
home for all my life! What more could your vow have wrought than
that? Let me go, Oswald, or I shall weep. It was a good day that
sent you to be my champion."
Then she stepped swiftly to me and kissed me once, and fled, and I
do not mind saying that I was glad that she had gone. Too much
thanks for things that had been done more or less by chance, and as
they came to hand as it were, without any special thought for any
one, are apt to make one feel discomforted.
The wedding on the morrow I have no skill to tell of, but as every
one has seen such a thing, that hardly matters. I will only set
down that never had I seen such a bright one, or so good a company,
there being all the more guests present because many who came to
the levies stayed on to do honour to the ealdorman and his
daughter. Elfrida looked all that a bride should, as I thought, and
also as the queen said in my hearing, so that I think I cannot be
wrong. I gave her Gerent's great gold armlet, having caused it to
be wrought into such a circlet for her hair as any thane's wife
might be well pleased to wear.
As for Erpwald, he was dazed and speechless with it all, but none
heeded him, though indeed he made a gallant groom, for that is the
usual way as regards the bridegroom at such times. Which is perhaps
all the more comfortable for him.
Then was pleasant feasting, and after it some of us who had been
Erpwald's closer friends here rode a little way with those two
wedded ones on the first stage of their homeward journey. The
Sussex thanes and their men were with them as guard, and they rode
on ahead and left us to take our leave.
And by and by, after a mile or two, the rest turned back with gay
farewells, and left me alone with the two, for they knew that I was
their nearest friend, and would let me be the last to speak with
them. We had not much to say, indeed, but there are thoughts, and
most of all, good wishes, that can be best read without words.
"There is but one thing that I wish," Elfrida said at the very
last, even when I had turned my horse and was leaving them.
"What is that?" I asked, seeing that there was some little jest
coming.
"Only, that I had seen the Princess Nona."
I laughed, and so they were gone, and I went back to Glastonbury,
wondering if Elfrida guessed what my thoughts of that lady might
be. I had not said much of her to any one, except as one must speak
of people with whom one has been for a while.
Strangely enough had come to pass that which I vowed to do for
Elfrida, though not in the way which had been in my mind when I
drank the Bragi bowl. Presently, when I came back to the
ealdorman's house, I had to put up with some old jests concerning
that vow, which seemed to others to have come to naught, but they
did not hurt me.
Three days after the wedding Thorgils came to Glastonbury with his
charge, and glad enough I was to hand it to Herewald, as I have
already said, and to get the care of it off my mind. Yet I will say
that by this time there had come to me a knowledge concerning this
gold which was pleasant. Only the other day I had been but the
simple captain of house-carles, though I was also the friend of a
mighty king, and foster son of a prince indeed, and that had been
all that I needed or cared for. Lately there had come a new hope
into my life, and it was one that was far from me at that time. But
now, when the time came for me to go to Dyfed for Owen, I should go
with power to choose lands and a home for myself and for that one
whom I dared now to ask to share it. And that was the only reason
that I cared to think of the new riches at all. If that hope came
to naught I should certainly care for them or need them little
enough, for my home would be the court as ever.
Better to me than the gold was a letter from Owen. The honest
Norseman had gone out of his way to put in at Tenby, knowing that I
should be glad to have news thence, and not troubling about Mordred
who was waiting release, at all. So he had seen Owen, who was well
as might be, he said.
"With two holes in one thigh, and his left arm almost growing again
like a crab's claw. I do not think that he was in the least
surprised to hear of the war, nor indeed of its end. All he wanted
to know was of you, as it seemed, at least from me. So it was also
with Howel and the princess. It was good to see their faces when I
told them of the fight at the camp, and how you won glory there.
Nevertheless, I was half afraid that I made the fighting a bit too
fierce over Erpwald, for the princess turned pale enough in hearing
how you were knocked over. You ken that I am apt to make the most
of things when I am telling a story. My father was just the same,
and maybe my grandfather before that, for saga telling runs in the
family."
I laughed at him, but in my mind I thought of the day when I saw
Elfrida pale as she heard of Erpwald's danger at Cheddar, and I
wondered.
Then I turned to Owen's letter, and it was long and somewhat sad,
as may be supposed, for this war had a foreshadowing of long
parting between him and me. But he said that he had known it must
come, having full knowledge, before Morfed the priest took him, how
the war party were getting beyond control. Wherefore he saw that he
and I had been saved much sadness by his absence, and it remained
to be seen how we should fare when he returned. At least, we should
meet soon in Dyfed, for he mended apace.
I need not tell all of that letter, for it was mostly between us
twain. But in it were words for Ina concerning peace, such as an
ambassador from the British might well speak, and they helped
greatly toward settlement by and by. And so the letter ended with
greetings from Howel and Nona, and many words concerning their
kindness to him.
But when I spoke to Thorgils of crossing soon to bring Owen back he
shook his head.
"I suppose he has even made the best of things in the letter, but
if he can bear arms again by Yule it will be a wonder," he said.
"Yet he is well for so sorely wounded a man."
Then he promised that it should not be so long before I heard news
from Owen again, for he had yet to make several voyages before the
winter. And he kept his promise well, for I think that he made one
more than he would have done, for my sake solely, though he will
not own it, lest the long winter should seem lonesome to me.
For I will say at once that Owen did not come back by Yule. All
that went on in the Cornish court I do not know, but it seemed that
Gerent thought it well that he should not return until the last
hope of victory over Wessex had passed from among his people; and
it may be that he did not wish it to be thought that Owen had any
hand in bringing about the peace which he must needs make. He would
see to that, and take all the blame thereof himself, caring nothing
for any man, if blame there should be from those who set the war on
foot.
So although I waited to hear from time to time as Thorgils came and
went, getting also word from him when some Danish ship crossed to
Watchet, nought was said of Owen's return. And I was not sorry, for
as things went I could not have gone to Dyfed to meet him.
There was the new land we had won to be tended, and for a time the
planning for that was heavy enough. All men know now how it ended
in the building of the mighty fortress of Taunton at the southern
end of the Quantock hills, to bar the passage from West to East for
all time. There is no mightier stronghold in all England than this,
at least of those built by Saxon hands, and there has been none
made like it since Hengist came to this land. It stands some two
miles from where the Romans set Norton, for they had the same need
to curb the wild British as have we, and the place they chose for
their ways of warfare needed little amending for ours.
While that was building, Ina dwelt in the house of some great
British lord at the place we call South Petherton, not far off from
the fortress. As the place pleased him, presently he had a palace
built there for himself, which, as it turned out, Ethelburga the
queen never liked at all. However, that came about in after years.
All day long now he was at Taunton, taking pride in overseeing all,
so that there is no wonder that the place is strong.
As for me, I was with Herewald the ealdorman on the new boundary
line with the levies and the king's own following, guarding against
any new attack, and trying to win the Welsh to friendship. That was
mostly my work, as I knew the tongue, and they knew me as Owen's
foster son. We had some little trouble with them for a time, but
soon, as they came to know the justice of the king, and that he did
not mean to drive them from the land, they became content, and
indeed there were many who welcomed a strong hand over them.
Presently there would be Saxon lords over the manors as Ina found
men to hold them, but there would be no change beyond that. Freeman
should be freeman, and thrall thrall, as before, each in his old
holding undisturbed, with equal laws for Saxon and Briton alike.
Now, one day when I came to the house of the king at Petherton on
some affairs I needed his word concerning, presently there came a
message to me that Ethelburga the queen would speak with me, and,
somewhat wondering, I was taken to her bower, and found her waiting
for me.
"Oswald," she said, after a few words of greeting, "there is one
who wronged you once, and has come to ask for your forgiveness.
What answer shall I give?"
"Lady," I said, "I can remember none who need forgiveness from me
now. Those who wrought ill against Owen have it already, or are
gone. I have no foes, so far as I know, myself, and truly no wrongs
unforgiven."
"Nay, but there is this one."
"Why then, my Queen, that one must needs be forgiven, seeing that I
know not of wrong to me."
I laughed a little, thinking of some fault of a servant, or of a
man of the guard, of which she had heard. But she went to a settle
hard by and swept aside a kerchief which lay on it as if by chance,
and under it were two war arrows. And I knew them at once for those
which had been shot into our window at Norton and had vanished.
Now I will say that the sight of these brought back at once some of
the old feeling against those who, like Tregoz, had sought Owen's
life and mine, and my face must needs show it.
"Ay," the queen said, seeing that, "these are indeed a token that
forgiveness is needed."
Then I remembered that there was but one who could come here with
these arrows, though how she had them I could not do more than
guess. It could be none other than Mara, the daughter of Dunwal.
Then suddenly, from among the ladies at the end of the room, one
who was dressed in black rose up and came toward me, and she was
none other than Mara herself, thin and pale indeed, and with the
pride gone from her dark face. Her voice was very low as she spoke
to me, and her bright black eyes were dim with tears.
"I do not ask you to forgive my uncle, or indeed my father--for
what they planned and well-nigh wrought is past forgiveness," she
said, "Forget those things if it be possible, but forgive my part
in them."
"I have done that long ago, lady," I said in all truth.
I knew that she must have been made use of by the men in some ways,
but I did not think at all that she had wished ill as they wished
it, since I knew that Morfed had trained the Welsh girl to the deed
at Glastonbury.
"Ay," she said sadly. "But forgetfulness is not forgiveness. You do
not know how I carried messages between my father and uncle, when
one was in bondage and the other in hiding, so that their plans
were laid through me. I am guilty with them. Therefore I would hear
you say at least that you will try to forgive before I pass from
the world into the cloister where I may pray for them, and for you
also, if I may."
Then I said, with a great pity on me for this lady whom I had known
so proud and careless:
"Lady, I do forgive with all my heart. I do not think that you
could have stood aloof from your father, and I do not think that
you are so much to blame in all the trouble as you would seem to
make me believe. In all truth I do forgive."
She looked searchingly at me while I spoke, and what she saw in my
face was enough to tell her that she had all she needed, and with
one word of thanks she went back to the ladies, and one of them
took her from the room.
"She goes into my new nunnery at Glastonbury tomorrow, Oswald," the
queen said, "and now she will rest content. It was a good chance
that brought you here today, my Thane, for she had begged me to
send for you, and that I could hardly do, seeing that one knows not
where to find you from day to day. I could tell her truly that I
knew I could win your forgiveness: but that would not have been
enough for her, I think."
So Mara passed into the nunnery, and unless she has been one of the
veiled sisters whom one sees in their places at the time of mass, I
do not know that I have ever set eyes on her again. I do not think
that it was the saddest end for her.