All the rest of that afternoon we two had to bide on the narrow
fore deck of the long ship, watching the pillage of the little
town. Once I waxed impatient, and asked my cousin if we might not
try to escape, seeing that little heed was paid to us, and that our
staying here as hostages had been of no use. But he shook his head,
telling me that until he had spoken with Thorleif or Thrond, to
whom we had passed our word, we must bide; which I saw was right.
Presently, as the evening began to close in, Thorleif came to us,
and with him was the old chief. After them came a man with food in
plenty in a ship's cauldron, and a leathern jack of ale, which he
set before us as we sat on the coils of rope which were stowed
forward.
"Welsh mutton and Welsh ale," said Thorleif, smiling. "That is
plunder one may ask a Saxon to share without offence. Fall to, I
pray you."
There was a rough courtesy in this, at the least intended, and we
were hungry, so we did not delay. And as we ate, the chief spoke
with us plainly.
"I had hoped," he said, "to manage this raid without fighting, but
I never met so headstrong a man as your sheriff. Truly, I would
have sent him home in peace, if in a hurry, had we been given a
chance, but, as you saw, we had none. Now, if you will, I will send
one of you home to say that if your folk will pay us fair ransom in
coined silver or weighed gold, we will harry no more, and will not
burn the town. One of you shall go at once, and bring me word by
noon at latest tomorrow, while the other shall bide as hostage for
his return. We will do no harm to aught until the time is up."
"Plain speaking, chief," said Elfric. "If we go, we must not have
more than a reasonable sum named, else will the message be
useless."
Then they talked of what sum should be named, and in the end agreed
on what was possible, I think; at all events, it was far less than
has been paid to the like force of Danes since. The riches of our
peaceful Wessex were as yet unknown to the vikings, save by
hearsay; indeed, it has been said that these three ships came to
spy out the land. And then came the question as to which of us two
was to go.
That was ended by Thorleif himself. I said that Elfric should go,
and he was most anxious that I should be freed from the clutches of
the Danes. And as we spoke thereof, neither of us being willing to
give way--for, indeed, it did not seem to me that it mattered much
whether I stayed, while Elfric had his own family, who would be
sorely terrified for him--Thorleif decided it.
"Elfric the thane must go," he said, "for men will listen to him.
That is the main thing, after all.
"We will not harm your cousin, thane, and you may be easy in your
mind."
"Nay," said Thrond, "I think that Dorchester would pay ransom for
the thane willingly. Best let the lad go."
"This is more a question of ransoming the town and countryside,
foster father," answered Thorleif. "The thane shall go."
In a quarter of an hour he was gone, the Danes giving him back his
weapons and mounting him on his own horse. He told me that he had
no doubt that I should be freed by noon tomorrow, and so we parted
in good spirits, as far as ourselves were concerned.
As to the trouble that had fallen on the land, that was another
matter. I did not rightly take it in, but it was heavy on his mind.
For myself, therefore, I was content enough; I had no reason to
think that the Danes were likely to treat me evilly in any way.
Nor did they. On the other hand, as if I were one of themselves,
they set me by the chief when they made a feast presently, and did
not ask me questions about the country; which was what I feared.
Most likely their riders had learned all they would from others.
When it grew dark they lighted great fires along the wharves, and
sat by them in their arms, drinking the Weymouth ale, and eating
the Dorset fare they had taken. The ship guards went ashore, and
their places were taken by others, and I saw strong pickets passing
out of the town to guard the ways into it. Thorleif would not risk
aught in the way of safeguard. After that was done, those whose
watch off it was went on board the ships, and slept under the
shelter of the gunwales, wrapped in their thick sea cloaks. They
gave me one, and bade me rest on the after deck by the chiefs; and
in spite of the strangeness of everything I slept dreamlessly,
being tired in mind as well as in body.
Next morning things were to all seeming much the same. The Danes
had kept their word, and all was peaceful. There being nothing more
in the town left worth taking, they stowed everything carefully,
and made all ready for sailing. And then, halfway between noon and
sunrise, Elfric rode back.
I did not see him, for he was not suffered to come beyond the line
of outposts, and all that he had to say, of course, I did not know
at the time. One came and told Thorleif that the thane waited to
speak with him, and he was gone from the ships for half an hour
with Thrond. When he came back his face was grimmer than ever, and
a red scar which crossed his forehead was burning crimson. He
stayed to speak to the men on the wharves, and some order he gave
was passed from one to another, and in ten minutes every man had
left the wharves and had passed inland, with him at their head.
"Ho, that is it!" said one of the ship guard from the deck below
me.
"What is it?" I asked, for I had been talking to the man in all
friendly wise, of ship and sea and strange lands.
"Why, your folk will not pay, and so we must needs take payment for
ourselves in the viking's way."
I said no more, nor did the man. I think he was sorry for me; but
it was not long before he called to me and pointed to the hillside
above the town. On it was a black throng of folk, slowly coming
down toward us.
"Your people coming to drive us out," he said, laughing a short
laugh.
Then he and his comrades bustled about the ship, setting every
loose thing in place, until the decks were clear. In the other
ships the guard were at the same work, and at last they cast off
all the shore lines but one at stem and stern. The ships might sail
at the moment their men were on board if they were beaten back.
About that time the farther houses in Weymouth began to burn, and I
heard the Wessex war cry rise, hoarse and savage, as the foes met.
There were more of our men coming over the hill, and it was good to
me to see that the Danes, who watched as eagerly as I, waxed silent
and anxious. One said that there seemed a many folk hereabout, as
if the gathering against them was more than they cared for.
Now I did not know what I had best wish for. Sometimes I thought
that if our men were beaten back they might come to terms, and I
should be freed. And it being a thing impossible that I could hope
that Wessex was to be beaten, and next to impossible that I should
so much as imagine she could, I mostly wondered what would happen
to me when the Danes had to seek the ships. But as the noise of the
fight drew nearer, and the black smoke from burning houses grew
thicker, I forgot myself, and only wished I was with Elfric in that
struggle; and at last I could stand it no longer.
"Let me go, men," I said; "I cannot bide here."
"We must, and you have to," said the friendly man. "We want to help
as much as you, but here we have to stay. Be quiet."
"Ay, or we will bind you again," said another man shortly.
But neither looked toward me; their eyes were on the road inland,
down which we could not see, for it opened at the end of the wharf.
Now a wounded man or two crawled down that road, and some of the
guard helped them to the ships. They growled fiercely when their
comrades asked how things went, and thereby I knew that it was ill
for the Danes. The houses nearer the wharves were burning one after
another, as they were driven back.
At last there came a rush of Danes down that road, and into the
seaward houses they went, and fired them. Then they came on board
the ships, and bade the ship guard relieve them at the front. More
than one of those who came thus had slight wounds on them, but they
did not heed them.
"Keep still, lad," said my friend as he hurried away. "The men are
savage. We are getting the worst of it--not for the first time."
Savage enough the men were, and I saw that the advice was good; so
I sat down on the steering bench and went on watching. But I was
not long left in peace. The noise of the fight came closer and
closer, and the wounded crept in a piteous stream to us. And then a
man would look to the after line from the ship to the bollard on
the wharf, and leaped on the after deck close to me.
"Out of the way, you Saxon!" he said savagely, and with that sent
me across the deck with a fierce push which was almost a blow; and
that was the spark which was all I needed to set my smouldering
impatience alight.
I recovered myself, and without a word hit him fairly in the face
with all my weight behind a good blow from the shoulder, and sent
him spinning in turn. He went headlong over the edge of the raised
deck, and lit among a group of his comrades, thereby saving himself
from what would have been a heavy fall on his head and shoulders.
"Well hit, Saxon!" shouted a man from the nearest ship, and there
was a great roar of laughter thence.
However, before his comrades, who had been watching the fires they
had lighted, knew rightly how the man had thus been hurled on them,
and were abusing him for clumsiness, he had his sword out, swearing
to end me; and I suppose he might have done so without any of the
others interfering had they understood the matter. But he was a
heavy man, and mailed moreover; whereby three or four were smarting
under his weight. So they fell on him and held his arm, thinking,
no doubt, that he was resenting their words; which was the saving
of me, for at that moment a roar came from the wharf, and slowly
out of the lane end we had been watching came Thorleif's men. Their
faces were toward the foe, and those who led the retreat were at
work with their bows, shooting over the heads of those before them
at the press which drove them back. And some leader from among
them, with lifted sword, signed to the ship guards to heed the open
end of the wharf, to my right.
They forgot the little matter on hand, and ran ashore. Then I noted
that on that end of the wharf, where a narrow lane came down to the
water, there was another fight going on, and they had to support
the Danes there. The other end of the wharf was kept by a curve of
the shore, and that was safe.
Presently all the Danes were back on the water front, and across
the end of the two entrances to its wide space they drew some heavy
wagons, which had been set there in readiness, blocking them. One
could only see now and then what was being done, as the wind
drifted the black smoke aside, for now every house was burning
fiercely.
Then came a wild and yet orderly rush of the Danes to the ships,
and it was wonderful to see each man get to his post at the oars as
he came. Three men went to each oar port. One had the oar ready for
thrusting outboard, one stood by with his shield ready to protect
the rower, and the other, standing in the midship gangway, had his
bow ready.
Thrond came on board with the first, and leaped to the steering
deck, where he grasped the tiller, paying no heed to me. His eyes
were on the lane end. I got out of his way, and stood by the stern
post, with my arm round the dragon tail.
For I saw nothing else to do but to keep quiet. I did not know
rightly whether honour compelled me to stay as a captive still, but
I thought it did. But if not, in one way I could have escaped; for
I had been forgotten, and every man was watching the shore. I could
drop overboard and swim ashore somewhere beyond the reach of the
Danes, being a good swimmer; but as I say, I doubted if I might. So
I stayed, whether wrongly or not I will leave others to decide; but
seeing that I doubted, I think I need not be blamed for doing as I
did.
One of the houses fell in with a tremendous crash, and an eddying
of smoke and flame across the wharf to leeward. Out of that smother
came running the men who had left the ships just now, stooping and
hiding their blackened faces from the sparks with their shields,
and they too found their posts at once. A dozen came on the after
deck with bows, and lined the shoreward gunwale.
Hardly had they come on board when the rest came in a rush,
Thorleif being last of all. Behind them the wharf was empty, save
for one man whom an arrow out of the smoke caught up and smote.
Thorleif heard him fall, though in the turmoil of trampling feet I
could not; and he turned back to him, and lifted him as if he had
been a child, and bore him on board. Then the gang planks rattled
in, and the lines were cast off, and the ship began to move.
Still the wharf was empty. I think the Saxons had been driven back
for a while, and that they did not yet know, so thick was the smoke
of the burning, that the barrier at the end of the lane was
unguarded.
Now there were five yards between ship and shore--then ten--then
twenty. The oars took the water, and she headed for sea. Out of the
smoke came my people, and ran yelling across the open, and I seemed
to wake up.
"Thrond," I cried, "I take back my promise. Let me go."
"Eh!" he said, looking round.
I was then with my hands on the gunwale, in the act of leaping
overboard, when he reached round and held me fast.
"Steady, fool!" he said; "you will have a dozen arrows through you.
"Here, hold him," he said sharply.
And the men fell on me, binding me deftly with a few turns of a
line, and then troubling themselves no more about me.
Next moment there was a sharp hiss, and an arrow from the shore
stuck in the deck close to me, and another chipped the tail of the
dragon and glanced into the sea. I mind noting that many another
such splinter had been taken from that stern post, and presently
saw--for I lay on my back, helpless--that a flint arrowhead still
showed itself through a new coat of paint. It was too deeply bedded
to be cut out, or else it was token of some honourable fight. It at
least had come from forward, whereas I thought that most of the
chips had come from astern, as this new one did. It is strange what
little things one will notice when at one's wits' end.
The shouts ashore grew more faint, and at last were past. The crew
were very silent, but the oars swung steadily, and at last Thorleif
came from the midship gangway and saw me. The weary men laid in the
oars at that moment, and threw themselves down to rest.
"Ho, Saxon!" he said, "on my word I had forgotten you. Who had you
tied up?"
"I did," said Thrond. "He said somewhat about taking back a
promise, and wanted to go overboard."
Thorleif stooped and unbound me, and I thanked him.
"Well, you won't go overboard now," he said, nodding toward the
shore.
The great rock of Portland was broad off on our right, and maybe we
were five miles from the nearest shore. Astern--for we were still
heading out to sea--the smoke of burning Weymouth hung black
against the blue sky. It was just such a day as yesterday, fair and
warm, and the land I loved had never seemed so lovely.
"Let me go, chief," I said; "it is of no use for you to keep me."
"Why," he answered, "I don't know that it is. But your folk would
pay no ransom, and it would seem foolish if I had let you go
offhand. Not but what your folk have not proved their wisdom, for
they have got rid of us pretty cheaply. Odin! how they swarmed on
us!"
"Ay," growled Thrond. "I did not dream that so many men could be
gathered in so few hours; but they fought anyhow, and it was only a
matter of numbers. Well, the place is good enough, and it is but a
question of more ships next time."
"Why did not you try an escape when we were all busy in the fight?"
asked Thorleif, turning to me. "I have lost more than one captive
in that way."
I told him, and he looked kindly enough at me, and smiled in his
grim way.
"You were right in saying that a Saxon's word was good, Thrond," he
said.
"I am sorry we can in no way send you back now. Your cousin did his
best to win his folk to peace--and fought well when he could not.
Nay, he is not hurt, so far as I know."
"Let me swim ashore, if there is no other way," I said, with a dull
despair on me.
Thorleif looked at the sea and frowned.
"I could not do it myself," he said. "There is a swift current
round yon headland. See, it is setting us eastward even now."
But I did not wait to hear any more; I shook my shoes off, and over
I went. The wake of the swift vessel closed over my head as the men
shouted, and when I came to the surface I looked back once. It
seemed that Thorleif was preventing the men from sending a shower
of arrows after me, but in those few moments a long space of water
had widened between us; and I doubt whether they would have hit me,
for I could have dived.
Then I headed for shore and freedom, and it was good to be in the
water alone with silence round me. As for the other two ships, they
were half a mile away from Thorleif's, and I did not heed them. So
I never looked back, but gave myself to the warm waves, and saved
my strength for the long swim before me. There was not much sea,
and what there was set more or less shoreward, so that it did not
hinder me. Presently I shook myself out of my tunic, and was more
free.
I suppose that I swam steadily for an hour before I began to think
in earnest what a long way the land yet was from me. In another
half hour I had to try to make myself believe that it was growing
nearer. Certainly Portland was farther from me, but that was the
set of the current; and presently I knew, with a terrible sinking
of heart, that the land also was lessening in my sight. The current
was sweeping me away from it.
When I understood that, I turned on my back and rested. Then I saw
that the ships were not so far away as I had expected. I seemed to
have made little way from them also; which puzzled me. They had not
yet set sail, and it was almost as if the oars were idle. I think
they were not more than a mile off. I could almost have wept with
vexation, so utterly did all the toil seem to be thrown away.
However, a matter of two hours in the water when as pleasant as
this was nothing to me, for I had stayed as long therein, many a
time, for sport. So I hoped to do better with the turn of the tide,
and let myself go easily to wait for it.
We had left Weymouth when the flood had three hours more to run, so
I had not long to wait. It turned; and I knew when it turned,
because the wind against it raised a sea which bid fair to wear me
out. I had to go with it more or less.
Then, indeed, the land seemed very dear to me, and I began to think
of home and of those who sat there deeming that all was well with
me. They would never know how I had ended. I will not say much of
all that went on in my mind, save only that I am ashamed of naught
that passed through it. Nor did I swim less strongly for the
thoughts, but struggled on steadily.
And at last the sun set, and the wind came chill over the water,
and I knew that little hope was for me. Again I turned on my back
and rested, and I grew drowsy, I think.
Now the daylight faded from the sky, and overhead the stars began
to come out; but as the sky darkened the sea seemed to grow
brighter. Presently all around me seemed to sparkle, and I wondered
listlessly that the stars were so bright in the water to one who
swam among their reflections. Then the little crests of foam on the
waves seemed on fire, and my arms struck sparks, as it were from
the water, as the sparks fly from the anvil. Only these were palest
blue, not red, and I wondered at them, thinking at first that they
were fancy, or from the shine of the bright stars above.
And all of a sudden, ahead of me, moved swiftly in the sea and
across my way a sheet of dazzling blue brightness, and it
frightened me. Often as I had seen the sea and swum in it, I had
never seen the like of this, nor had heard of it. The sheet of
silver fire turned and drew toward me, and I ceased swimming, and
stood, treading water, watching it. Out of its midmost fires darted
long streaks of light, everywhere, lightning swift, coming and
going ceaselessly.
Into the midst of that brightness rushed five bolts of flame, and
scattered it. The water boiled, alive with the darting fires around
me and under my feet, and my heart stood still with terror. Yet I
was not harmed. And then I saw one of those great white-hot silver
bolts hurl itself from sea to air in a wide arch, and fall back
again into the water with a mighty splash; and all the flying water
seemed to burn as it fled.
Truly it was but a school of mackerel, and the porpoises which fed
on the silver fish, all made wonderful by the eerie fires of a
summer sea; but I could not tell that all at once. I think that I
knew what it was when the great sea pig leaped, for his shape was
plain to me. The shoal went its way, and after it the harmless
porpoises. But the sea was fairly alight now; all round me it shone
with its soft glow, and my body was wondrous with it, and I seemed
to float in naught but light.
Then I think that I wandered in my mind, what with the fright and
weariness; for I had been five or six hours in the water, and it
was long since I had tasted food. It came to me that I was dead at
last, and that I was far in the sky, floating on bright air, with
stars above me and stars below. And that seemed good to me. I
rested, paddling just enough to keep myself upright and forget my
troubles in wonderment.
Surely that was a voice singing! There was a strange melody I had
never heard the like of, and it came from the brightness not far
from me. I came back to knowledge of where I was with a start,
trying to make out from which direction it sounded.
"This is a nixie trying to lure me to the depth," I thought.
"Truly, he need not take the trouble; for thither I must go
shortly, without any coaxing."
I turned myself in the water, trying to see if I could make out the
singer, but I could not. Seeing that no other was likely to be
swimming in Portland race but myself, I had no thought that the
song was human.
But I could find nothing. When my face was seaward, I saw far off
the ships I had left, indeed; and one seemed to have set her sail,
for it showed as a square patch of blackness against the sky, but
no voice could come from them to me. Presently I thought that
somewhat dark rose and fell on the little waves between me and her,
but that was doubtless the tunic I had given to the water. I did
not think of wondering why I still saw it after all this long swim,
but I seemed to have made no headway from the ships, which were as
near as when I last looked at them.
So I turned again and swam easily, as I thought, shoreward. The
song went on, but it seemed to ring in my ears as the drone of our
miller's pipes comes up from the river on a still summer evening.
Yet it grew more plain.
Then I saw the ships before me. I was swimming in a circle, my
right arm mastering the left, I suppose. That told me how weary I
was, if I had not known it to the full before. At that moment the
song, which was close to me, stopped, and a fiery arm rose from a
wave top against the sky, and seemed to hail me.
"Ho, Wilfrid! have you had enough yet? By Aegir himself, you are a
fine swimmer!"
Through the brightness came a sparkling head, round which the foam
curled in fleecy fire; and shining as I shone, Thorleif the viking
floated up to me and trod the water.
"What, you also?" I said. "Both of us drowned together at last?"
And with that I went into the brightness below me, and troubled no
more for anything.