Now that I had Hilda safe with the archbishop, it mattered nothing
to me if all the world knew that I was yet here. So when Ealdwulf,
the archbishop himself, asked me to ride with him to Sutton Palace
and tell Offa of the finding, I said that I was most willing. I
should see Selred, and maybe bring him away with me, and at least
could tell him that all was well with Hilda.
I will say now that she was none the worse for the wetting and the
rest of last night's doings, but that I saw her come fresh and
bright to the breakfast in the little hall of the reeve's house.
There she would bide till she could go with the archbishop
homewards in some way, most likely from nunnery to nunnery across
the land, as ladies will often travel, with parties of the holy
women--that is, if Sighard was not to be found. In my own mind I
thought that he would not be far off, most likely with Witred, the
Mercian thane who had arranged the flight.
Presently, therefore, we rode away from Fernlea toward Sutton,
there being but one priest with the archbishop, and six of the
townsmen, besides Erling and myself. It was no state visit, but the
going of one who would speak with an erring friend in private.
Sorely downcast was the good man, for he loved Offa well, and this
terrible wrong lay heavily on his heart.
Halfway or so to Sutton we passed the place where trees were thick,
and I saw a man lurking among them as if he was watching the road.
Wherefore I watched him, and presently saw that he was coming to
us, as if half afraid. Somehow the walk and figure of this man
seemed known to me, though his face was strange, and I thought that
he made for myself. Soon I knew that this was indeed the case; for
finding that there were none whom he need fear in the party, the
man came boldly from the trees, and, cap in hand, stood by the
wayside waiting me.
"Well, friend, what is it?" I asked, as he walked alongside my
horse.
He answered in Welsh, and then I knew that he was the guide we had
been given last night.
"Jefan ap Huwal the prince sends greeting to the thane on the pied
horse, and bids him and the lady come to him if there is need for
help. He has heard that the thane serves the Frankish king who
hates Saxons beyond the seas, and thinks that mayhap he has foes
here in Mercia."
"Thank your prince from me," I answered, after a moment's thought,
in which it came to me that no offer of friendship was to be
scorned, "and tell him that if need is I will not forget. Tell him
also that, thanks to him, the lady is safe and well, and that I
have no fear at present."
"That, said Jefan, is what a thane would answer," said the man.
"Whereon I was to tell you that yonder evil queen was to be feared
the most when she seemed to be the least dangerous. He wits well
that she is shut up."
Then it seemed plain that the Welsh prince had spies pretty nearly
inside the palace; which is not at all unlikely. However, I said
nothing of that, and thanked the man again, looking to see him
leave me. The archbishop had ridden on with the rest, for I went
slowly, to talk to the Welshman. Still the man did not go, and he
had more to say.
"Also I was to tell you that he had a chief of your folk in his
hands. But that he deems that he belongs to East Anglia, he would
have set him in chains. He is hurt, and is in our camp, free, save
for his promise not to escape. His name is Sighard."
"Sighard?" I said. "How came he in your hands?"
"He came over the border, lord, and we had him straightway," said
the man simply. "Methinks there were men after him."
"Where is he?" said I, anxiously enough. "He can pay ransom."
"He is ill," said the man; "he cries for his daughter. Jefan thinks
that he is that thane whose daughter was in our hands last night
with you."
"Ill?" said I; "is he much hurt?"
"There had been a bit of a fight before we took him. One smote him
on the helm, and he was stunned. Thereafter he came to himself, and
again fell ill. He will mend, for it is naught."
"But where is he?"
"We have many camps, and I cannot tell you. You are a stranger.
But, says Jefan the prince, an you will come to him I am to guide
you."
Now I was in doubt indeed, for this was a dangerous errand. The man
saw that I hesitated, and smiled at me.
"Wise is our prince," he said. "He knew that you would fear to
come, therefore he bade me say that you were to mind that once he
had you, and set you free, and that he does not go back on his
doings, save he must. He has no enmity for the friends of the slain
king, but a great hatred for him who slew him."
"Would he not let Sighard the thane come to Fernlea, where his
daughter is?"
"Truly, if you will. But it is safer for you to come to him. There
Jefan will have all care for all of you until he may send you home.
It is told him that Quendritha has sworn the death of four men--of
the thane who rides the great pied horse, of his housecarl, of
Sighard of Anglia, and of Witred of Bradley, who helped the
Anglians to escape."
"How knows he all this? It is more than I have heard--if I have
guessed some of it."
The man shrugged his shoulders.
"Thane," he said, with a sidewise smile, "a man who is thrall to a
Mercian may yet be a Briton. The Saxon may make a slave of his
body, but his heart will be free."
Now I was the more sure that this Welsh prince had some good source
of knowledge of what went on inside the palace, and I thought that
mayhap he was right. Across the Welsh border might indeed be the
safest place for any man who had brought the wrath of the queen on
him. I would go to Sighard, and take Hilda with me. One thing I was
fairly glad of, and that was that so far as I knew none in all the
court of Offa had heard who my folk in Wessex were, else there
might be trouble for them; for Quendritha's daughter was not unlike
her mother, if all I heard was true.
"Meet me tonight, then," I said. "I will go to Jefan, and will
bring the lady."
"You do well," he answered gravely. "I will meet you somewhere on
the westward track, a mile from Fernlea ford. You shall but ride on
till I come. You shall choose your own time, for I cannot tell what
may stay you. I have naught to do but wait. If you meet other
Britons, tell them that you seek the prince, and they will pass you
on. If so be you come not tonight, I will wait for another, and yet
another. After that--"
"If we do not come, what then?"
"Doubtless we shall burn Sutton walls. A curse lies thereon now,
and it may be that we shall wreak it."
With that he leaped across the brook which ran by the road, and
passed into shelter. Then I turned to Erling, who waited for me
across the road, and asked if he had understood what was said.
"Ay, all," he answered. "It is good enough; otherwise I might have
put in a word. This Jefan has the name for an honest man, as I have
ever heard."
"The one thing about it that I mislike is that we seem to be
running away from hearsay," I said.
"Mighty little hearsay was that which set Sighard flying across the
border, I take it," Erling answered. "Seeing that you have no more
to keep you here, it is about time we went also. We have foes we
cannot see, and are in a land of which we know not a foot. Jefan
will help us to ken the foe, and will guide us when we need it."
Now of all things which I had in my mind, the first seemed to me to
be that I must ride eastward with Hilda and see the mother of the
slain king, to give what account I might of that charge she had
laid on me. But if Sighard had been prevented from getting
homeward, it was certain that so should I. Wherefore we should not
be watched for on any westward road, and that way, at least, was
open. Thence we might find our way when the days wore on and
Sighard could travel. That remained to be seen; and, take it all
round, I was more easy than I had been.
So also seemed the archbishop presently, when I told him the
message I had had. And he agreed with us that we might do worse
than go to Jefan at once with Hilda; matters being as they were, it
was not safe in Mercia.
"He is a good prince and honourable," he said; "and if I say that,
I speak of one who is the foe of our folk. He has suffered much
from us, and has cause for enmity with Offa--and maybe with
Quendritha. I can say plainly now that her restless longing for
power has kept our armies busy many a time when they had been
better at rest."
He sighed; and then came somewhat which turned our thoughts, and no
more was said at the time, either of Quendritha or of my doings.
For now we were in sight of the palace on its little hill, and from
its gates came toward us a train of folk, guarded by men of Offa's
own housecarls in front and rear, as if those who travelled were no
common wayfarers. In the midst of all was a closed horse litter,
beside which rode two or three veiled and hooded ladies and a
priest. Save the captain of the guards, there was no thane with the
party, and but a few pack horses followed them, and I thought it
would be some abbess, perhaps, who was leaving the palace.
We drew up on the roadside to let this train pass, though I suppose
that by all right the archbishop might have claimed the crown of
the way for himself, had he been other than the humble-minded man
that he was. As the leading guards passed us they saluted in all
due form; and then one of the ladies knew who was here, and bent to
the litter, and so turned and spoke to the captain, who straightway
called a halt, and came, helm in hand, to the archbishop, praying
him to speak with the lady who was in his charge.
Who this was I did not hear, but I saw the face of the good man
change, and he hurried to dismount and go to the litter. And
thence, after a word or two had passed, came the priest I had seen;
and when he uncowled I knew him for my friend Selred, and glad I
was to see him.
"Why, how goes it, father?" I said, as my hand met his. "You were
not in the wood of our tryst, and I feared that you were in
trouble."
Very gravely he shook his head, looking sadly at me.
"There is naught but trouble in all this place," he said. "I could
not come to you, for the gates were closed early, that Gymbert
might be taken. He was not taken. And yet I have heavier trouble to
tell you than you can think."
"No, father," I said quickly, seeing that he had learned too
little, and doubtless believed Hilda either drowned or else in the
hands of Gymbert and his men--whichever tale Quendritha had been
told or chose to tell him.
"I was in the wood, and thither came the lady we ken of when she
was set forth from the place. I was in time to get her away, and
she is safe."
It was wonderful to see the face of the chaplain lighten at this.
"Laus Deo," he said under his breath, and his hand sought mine
again and gripped it. "That is a terrible load off my heart," he
said. "Yet I have heard that our good Sighard is slain. They have
burned the hall of honest Witred over his head, and he is gone, and
it was said that Sighard fell there with him."
"It is not half an hour ago that I heard how he fled to the west,
where the Welsh saved him, for hatred of Offa and pity for the
betrayed Anglian king. He is safe, if a little hurt."
Now the horse of Erling reared suddenly, and I looked up. It was
still in a moment, and he spoke to it without heeding me. But as
soon as he caught my eye when I first turned, he set his hand
carelessly across his lips, and I knew what he meant. I had better
say no more of where Sighard was or how I hoped to see him.
So I said what I had to tell him of the finding of the king, and
how we had come to tell Offa thereof; and as he heard, Selred the
chaplain knelt there by the roadside and gave thanks openly, with
the tears of joy in his eyes. The rough housecarls heard also, and
there went a word or two among them; and their grim faces
lightened, for one shame, at least, had been taken from the house
of their master.
Now there was a sound as of a woman's weeping from the litter, and
Selred heard it and rose to his feet.
"It is Etheldrida the princess," he whispered to me. "She is flying
to some far nunnery--mayhap to Crowland--that there she may end her
days in what peace she may find. It is well, for here with her
mother is but terror for her."
The archbishop signed to me, and I went to the side of that litter,
unhelming, while Erling took my horse's bridle. There I knelt on
one knee, and waited for what I was to hear. It was a little while
before that came, but the sobs were at length stilled. I heard one
of the ladies, who were those who came from East Anglia, say to the
other that it was good that she had wept at last.
And presently from behind the curtains of the litter the princess
spoke to me, very low, and I do not think any other heard.
"Good friend of him whom I loved, I thank you for your loyalty to
him. The archbishop has told me, and you have given me back a
little of my trust in men. I had deemed that all were false for
aye, but for you, I think. Now I go hence, and beyond the walls of
some nunnery I shall never pass, and there I will pray for you
also. And for you there shall be happy days to come, in the meed of
utmost loyalty."
I could not answer her, and still I knelt, for there was somewhat
needed to come ere I could part from her without a word. But before
I could frame aught she set her hand through the curtains, and in
it was somewhat small, as it were a silken case cunningly woven
round a little jewel, perchance.
"There was none whom I would ask to do what I longed for," she
said; "but now it will be done. I pray you set this on his heart,
that it may go to his grave with him."
"There it shall most surely be, lady," I said. "I am honoured in
the duty."
"Go!" she said faintly; "and farewell."
I rose up hastily, and went back to my horse, while the lady who
had spoken just now busied herself in caring for her mistress.
Selred took my arm and walked aside with me.
"You must not come back to East Anglia," he said. "I know that you
would fain see the lady of Thetford, but it were useless danger for
you. I will tell her all that you have done, now; and if in after
days you may come to us, do so. Bide and tend Sighard and Hilda,
and mind that there is sore peril to both of them so long as
Quendritha lives. She is shut up now, but all the more has her mind
freedom to plan and plot the fall of those who have seen her at her
worst. One cannot shut up such a woman as she, but she will have
her ways of learning all she will, and her tools are many."
"I would that you could bide here," I said.
"I also; but I must pass eastward with this poor lady and these
others. Yet I am sure that Offa will do all honour to our king. He
has been seen by none as yet save his pages. They whisper that he
is fasting, and bowed with shame and grief."
For a little longer we spoke, and then we must part. The sad train
of the princess went on, and swung into the eastward track which
she would take, and the archbishop signed to us to follow him. And
that was the last which any man in Mercia saw of the fair princess
who had been the pride of the land, for she came safely to far
Crowland, in the fenland, and there pined and died.
It is said that the parting between her and her terrible mother was
such that men will tell little thereof. I know that in that time
some strange gift of prophecy came over the maiden, and she
foretold the death of her who planned the deed, even to the day,
and the awesome manner of it; and that also she wept for the
knowledge given her that the deed should bring the end of the line
of Offa and the fall of Mercia--things which no man could think
possible at this time, so that she seemed to rave. More things
strange and terrible, I heard also, but them I will not set down.
Mayhap they were not true.
Now we went on slowly up the hill, and at last rode into the gates.
There men loitered idly, as yesterday; for the head of the house
sat silent and moody in his chamber, and none had orders for aught.
Across the court we went to the priests' lodgings, and thence came
the chaplains to meet their lord, and with him I was taken into the
house.
"I have come to see the king," said the archbishop; "take me to him
straightway."
"He will see none," they said; "it is his word that no man shall
disturb him."
"If he will hear what shall make his heart less heavy, he will see
me," said the archbishop. "Tell him that I have news for him. Or
stay; I will go to him myself."
The priests looked at one another, but they could not stop their
lord; and with a sign to us to follow, he passed across the court
again, up the long hall, and so into the council chamber. At the
door which led to Offa's apartments there was a young thane on
guard, but no others were to be seen. I suppose that never before
had Offa been so ill attended, for the very courtiers feared what
curse should light on the place and all who bided in it.
"Tell your lord that I demand audience with him," said the
archbishop to this thane. "The matter will not wait; it is urgent."
The youth rose and bowed, and passed within the door. In a moment
or two he was back again, throwing the door open for us.
"Yourself and no other, lord," he said.
"I take these two," answered Ealdwulf the archbishop. "I will
answer to the king for their presence."
So we two, Erling and I, followed him into the chamber of the king;
and with my first glance at Offa there fell on me a great pity for
him.
He sat at a great heavy table in a carven chair, leaning his
crossed arms before him on the board, and staring at naught with
hollow, black-ringed eyes, as of sleeplessness and grief. His face
was wan and drawn, so that he seemed ten years or more older than
when last he sat in hall with us; and he was clad in the same
clothes which he wore when he came forth to us on the morning of
terror. None had dared to touch aught in his room; and bent and
soiled among the rushes on the floor lay the little gold crown
which he wore at the last feast, as if he had swept it from the
table out of his sight, and had spurned it from him thereafter in
some fit of passion. Hard by that lay a broken sword, and its hilt
flashed and sparkled with the gems I had noted in the hall. It was
his own.
On the table was neither wine nor food, but there was a great book,
silver covered and golden lettered, and it was open at a place
where a wondrous picture in many hues showed a king who seemed to
humble himself in fear before a long-robed man priestlike.
He did not stir when we came in, nor did he say a word. Only he
looked at Ealdwulf, as it were blindly, waiting what he should hear
from his lips. And into his look there crept somewhat like fear.
But there was naught terrible or hard in the face which he looked
on; it had but deepest sorrow and pity.
"My king," said Ealdwulf, seeing that he must needs speak first,
"here is one who has a word for you. I think that you will be glad
to hear it. Know you where the body of Ethelbert was hidden?"
"No," said the king in a dull voice. "My men search even now. It is
all that I can do."
Then Ealdwulf bade me tell the story of the finding, and I did so.
Yet the look of Offa never brightened as he heard, nor did he ask
me one question.
"It is well," he said, when I had no more to say, and his fingers
moved restlessly on the table.
But he did not look in my face, nor had he done so since I came
before him. I stood back, and Ealdwulf was alone near him.
"My son," said the old man, "my son, this has not been your doing.
I will not believe that."
Offa set his hand on the great book with its picture.
"As much my doing as the slaying of the Hittite by David the king.
It was planned, and I hindered it not."
Then he set his hands to his face, and his voice softened. And at
that I passed silently from the room, leaving those two together,
for this was not a meeting in which I had wish to meddle. Erling
came with me, and we sat in the council chamber for half an hour,
waiting.
Presently--after the young thane had told us how that Quendritha
was closely guarded, and that the voice of all blamed her utterly
for every wrong that had been wrought in Mercia for many a long
year, now that the fear of her was somewhat passed--Erling rose up.
"With your leave, thane," he said to me, "we have a few things left
here, and our other horses still stand in the stable. It is in my
mind to see what I can take back with me."
We went out together, for the stillness and waiting grew wearisome.
There were none of the pleasant sounds of the household at work or
sport in all the palace. It was as a place stricken with some
plague.
So we passed through the church to our lodging, and took our few
goods, and Sighard's, and so went with them to the long stables
where our two spare horses stood in idleness. The rows of stalls
were well-nigh empty now, those who had gone having taken their
steeds.
"I wonder ours are left," quoth Erling. "These Mercians are more
honest than some folk I know."
He called the grooms, and we made ready, taking the horses out to
where the folk of the archbishop waited in the sunny courtyard, and
there leaving them. Then we went back to the council chamber, and
again waited for what seemed a long time. The young thane had a
meal brought for us there.
Presently Ealdwulf himself came to the door and called me softly,
and I followed him back to the presence of the king. I cannot tell
what had passed between those two, nor do I suppose that any man
will ever know; but Offa was more himself, save that on his face
was a deep sadness, and no trace of hardness or pride therewith.
"Friend," he said, "is it your duty to go back to Carl the Great?"
"I have left his service, King Offa; I am on my way homeward. It
was but by the kindness of Ethelbert, to whom I helped bear
messages, that I came hither."
"Well," he said, "I will not hinder you. Had you gone back, I would
have asked you to tell him plainly all of this. As it is, Ealdwulf
shall send churchmen to tell him; I would have him know the truth.
Now I must thank you for this that you did last night, and tell you
what shall be done in atonement for the death of your friend."
There he checked himself and bit his lip.
"Nay," he said unsteadily, "there is no atonement possible. There
is but left to me the power of showing that I do repent, and will
have all men know it for aye. There shall be at Fernlea, where he
will lie in his last sleep, the greatest cathedral that has been
seen or heard of in this land, and men shall hail him as the very
saint that you and I knew him to be; and after his name shall it be
called, and in it shall be all due service of priest and choir for
him till time shall end it. What more may I do?"
"I think that the place where his body lay should not be left
unmarked," I said boldly, for so it had seemed to me. "May not
somewhat be done there, that the spot may be kept?"
"Ay, at Marden," he said eagerly, as if he did but long to do all
that he might, "there also shall be a church, that it may be held
holy for all time. It shall be seen to at once."
After that promise Offa bade me farewell sadly enough, and I was
glad to leave the chamber. Nor had we long to wait before Ealdwulf
came out, and we were once more turning our backs on the palace of
Sutton. On its walls I never set eyes again, nor did I wish to do
so.
As we went in leisurely wise back to Fernlea, the archbishop told
me those few things which I have set down concerning the way in
which Quendritha had beguiled the king into suffering the thought
of this deed of shame. No more than was needful for me to
understand how little part, indeed, Offa had had in the matter did
he tell me, for all else that had passed between those two was not
to be told. Both he and I think that had the evil queen left the
doing of her deed until morning it had never been wrought, for Offa
would have come to himself.
Yet one cannot tell. What Quendritha had set her heart on was apt
to be carried through, even to the bitterest of endings for those
who were in her way thereto. How she would fare now Ealdwulf could
not tell me. It was true that she was almost imprisoned, as I have
said, but none could tell whether that would last. Yet he thought,
indeed, that Offa would have no more to do with her.
So we came back to Fernlea, and when I saw the little church I
minded once more that strange dream of the poor young king's. I had
heard the words which told that it would come to pass. Nor was
there any doubt now in my mind that all those things which we had
deemed omens were indeed so. The fears we had tried to laugh at
were more than justified.