Now I went straightway to Hilda with the news of her father,
telling her that it seemed almost the best for us to trust to the
word of the Welsh prince, and go to him, rather than to risk a
journey hither for the thane if he was wounded.
"I trust you altogether, Wilfrid," she said. "Take me to him. I
know that you have bided here in sore risk for me, and maybe you
also will be safer if once we are across the Wye. The Welsh are not
the foes of East Anglia."
I did not tell her that they were very much so of Wessex, on our
western border; for at all events ours were Cornish, who had not so
much to do with their brothers beyond the Channel here. So, having
bidden her keep up heart, I sought the wife of the reeve, and would
have given her gold to buy such things as she might think Hilda
needed for travel.
"Dear heart!" she said, bridling, "set your gold back in your
pouch. May not the reeve's wife of Fernlea give of her plenty to
one so fair and hapless? I will see to that in all good time."
She stood by a great press against the wall, and as she spoke, as
if by chance, she swung the door open, so that I had a glimpse of
the mighty piles of homespun cloth and linen, her pride, which lay
therein, Truly she had to spare, and I laughed.
"Mistress," I said, "be not offended. I am in haste, for we must go
hence tonight. There is no time for planning and cutting and
making."
She turned, swinging the heavy press door to and fro.
"Tonight!" she said, with wide eyes; "why so hasty?"
"Because her father lies wounded across the Wye, and we have to go
to him. Maybe we shall have to ransom him."
"Man," she cried, "those Welsh are swarming beyond the river. Ken
you what you are doing with this poor damsel?"
"Ay," answered I plainly: "I am taking her out of the way of
Quendritha and of Gymbert. I have the word of Jefan the prince for
our safety."
"Get to him," she said at once, "get to him straightway; he is
honest. And on my word, if Gymbert is the man you saved her from
last night, there is no time to be lost."
"He does not know where she has gone."
"Did not," she said. "By this time he kens well enough. Go, and all
shall be ready."
I thanked her heartily, for she was a friend in need in all truth.
And then I sought her husband, and told him what we must do. I do
not know if I were the more pleased or disquieted when he said much
the same as his wife. He would have us go from the town after the
gates were shut, and he himself would see us across the ford. Once
beyond that he did not think there was any risk. Most likely Jefan
and his men were on Dynedor hill fort, their nearest post to the
river, for he had seen a fire there. What he did fear was that
Gymbert had his spies in the town, and would beset all the roads.
"He cares naught for reeve--or for archbishop either, for that
matter," he said. "He has half the outlaws on these marches at his
beck and call, and one has to pay him for quiet. Nor dare any man
complain, for he is the servant of Quendritha."
So his advice also was that the sooner we were gone the better. I
have somewhat of a suspicion that he half feared that his house
should be burned over his head, like Witred's. It seems that when
the archbishop came back here from Sutton he excommunicated, with
all solemnity, every man who had aught to do with that deed of
which he had been told. Wherefore Gymbert, if he cared aught for
the wrath of the Church, might be desperate, and would heed little
whom he destroyed, so that he ended those he meant to harm.
Then I called Erling, and we planned all that we might for going,
and after that we two went into the little church where lay
Ethelbert the king. There was silence in it, and little light save
for two tall tapers which burned at the head of the bier on which
he lay, but I could see that all had been made ready against his
showing to the people on the morrow. A priest sat on either side of
the bier's head, and one of them read softly, so that I had not
heard him at first. So I stood and looked in the face which was so
calm, and then knelt and prayed there for a little time.
When I rose I was aware for the first time that behind me knelt
Erling, but he did not rise with me. He stayed as he was, and in
the light of the tall tapers was somewhat which glistened on the
rough cheeks of the viking. I knew that he had been mightily taken
with the way of Ethelbert on our long ride with him; but he was
silent, and said little at any time of what his thoughts were. I
had not thought to see him so moved. Now he looked up at me as it
were wistfully, and spoke to me, yet on his knees:
"Master, this poor king, who talked with me as we rode, bade me be
a Christian man, that hereafter we might meet again. And you ken
that I saw him, and how he spoke to me, that night when he was
slain, so that from me you learned his death. Now I would do his
bidding, and so be christened straightway, if so it may be."
I did not know what to answer, for it was sudden.
Not that I was much surprised, for Erling had ever been most
careful of all that might offend in his way when he came into a
church with me, but that here in the dim church the question came
so strangely and, as it were, fittingly. I held out my hand to him,
and looked round to the priests, who had heard all. One of them was
that elder man who went to seek the king's body with us, and he
rose up and came to us, and bade us into the little bare sacristy
apart.
"My son," he said to Erling, "it is a good and fitting wish; yet I
would not have you do aught hastily. How long has this matter been
in your mind?"
"I think that it indeed began long years ago, when my lord here
kept his faith with Thorleif when he might have escaped. That made
me think well of Christian men. He had not so much as taken oath."
"Carl the Great would christen a heathen man first and teach him
afterward," said I, meaning indeed to help on Erling's hope without
bringing my own name into the matter thus, and minding Carl's rough
way with the Saxon folk.
"Carl's man has taught first, and that all unknowing," he said,
smiling. "I do not know what he speaks of, but it has been worth
doing."
"I only kept my word, father, as a Saxon should."
"As a Saxon Christian has been taught to keep it, by his faith,
rather," he answered, smiling at me. "Well, well, so may it be.
"Now, my son, you will need many a long day's teaching, mayhap."
"I think not, father," said Erling. "I have been in Wales, and
there I learned well-nigh enough. They gave me the prime signing
there. You have but my word for it, but Ethelbert himself said that
an I would be baptized he would stand sponsor for me. He said it as
we rode on the day of the great mist, when it chanced that all of
us must pray together. He saw me make the holy sign, and asked
presently if it was that of Thor. And I told him that in Wales I
was what they call a catechumen. I mind me that so ran the word for
one prime signed."
"And thereafter he spoke to you?"
"He said many and wondrous things to me."
I minded how often Ethelbert had spoken with Erling. I had deemed
that he did but ask him questions of Denmark, as once he did in my
hearing at the first.
So I wondered. But the old priest asked Erling to say the creed,
and that he did well, and with a sort of gladness on him. After
which the good father said that tomorrow should surely be the
baptism, in all form.
"Nay, but here and now," begged Erling. "Tomorrow I must be away
with my master beyond the river, and I would fain be christened
here--in yon presence."
"Ay; why not," said the old priest, half to himself, "why not? Yet
I will fetch the archbishop."
He led the way back into the church, and we entered just below the
sanctuary steps. In the little chancel lay the king; and almost in
shadow, for no window light fell on it, the font stood at the
entering in of the nave, opposite the one south door.
"See," said the priest, "some one has come in. Maybe he seeks you
twain."
I looked toward the door, and dimly I saw a tall figure standing
close to the font, but I could not see who it was. Erling knew him.
"It is Ethelbert," he said very quietly; "he said he would be my
godfather."
The priest set his hand on my arm and half shrank back. The other
priest lifted his eyes from his book, and so bided, motionless. But
I did not rightly take in what they meant, and looked more closely.
Then some stray gleam of light from the broken sky overhead came
into the door, and it shone round the tall and gracious figure--and
it was that of Ethelbert himself.
I saw him, and there he bided while he turned his face to us,
smiling at us. And so he set his hand on the font, and smiled
again, and was gone.
"Brother," said the seated priest, "did you see?"
"I saw, and I think it is but the first of many wonders which we
may see here."
Now we stayed there still and hardly daring to move, looking yet
for the king to be yonder again, but we saw no more. Then at last
the priest begged me to go to the archbishop and bring him, telling
him what had happened. I went, and when Ealdwulf came there was no
more delay, but where the form of Ethelbert had stood there stood
Erling, and was baptized by the archbishop, I and the old priest
standing for him. And thereafter he knelt at the steps of the
sanctuary, and on him the hands of the archbishop were laid in his
confirmation.
That was the most wonderful baptism I have ever seen, and it bides
in my mind ever as I see another, even if it be but of a little
babe of thrall or forester, so that for a time I seem to stand in
the church at Fernlea once more, and hear the voice of Erling as he
made his answers firmly and truly. Betimes it seems to me that it
was but longing and the work of minds in many ways overwrought
which showed us the form of the dead king there by the font--and I
cannot tell. Yet the watching priest saw, besides us three who had
searched for him.
Presently, on the morrow, and again in days later, when the body of
the king lay for the people to pass and see, and when it was taken
with all pomp to its resting in the great new cathedral which men
call that of Hereford, there were many healings and the like, as
they tell me. And at Marden, where Offa built at once the little
church which should mark where Ethelbert was hidden, that water
which welled from the place whence we took him healed many.
Now we went forth from the church for a little while, and presently
I went back alone and placed the little gift which Etheldrida had
given me on the breast of the king, hiding it next his heart in his
robes. I had learned that they would not be moved again. Ealdwulf
knew that I had done it, and when I came back to him, where he
talked yet with Erling in the reeve's chamber, he asked me if I
knew what the little case held. I did not, and that is known to
none save to her who gave it me.
"I think that you two will value this more than other men," he said
then.
And with that he gave us each a little silken bag, square, with a
cross and a letter E worked thereon. He had cut for us each a lock
from the head of Ethelbert, and had it set hastily thus for us. And
he was right as to the way in which we held it of more worth than
aught else. Hilda wrought the little cases as she sat waiting in
the house. It is my word that mine shall go to my last resting with
me.
Now all too soon the dusk came, and we must set ourselves back from
these wondrous things that had been to the ways of hard warriors
again, with a precious charge in our keeping. With Hilda we supped,
and then it was dark. Out in the stables the horses stood ready, my
brown second steed being made ready for the lady, and Erling's
second carrying the packs, as on our first journey from Norfolk.
And then we heard the last words of farewell from the archbishop,
and knelt for his blessing, even as the watch mustered outside in
the street, and the last wayfarer hurried into or from the gates,
and I heard the horns which told their closing. It was dark
overhead, and the moon had not yet climbed far into the sky; which
was as well for our passing the ford unseen, if Gymbert had it
watched.
Then the reeve came in, armed and ready, and we must go. There was
a little sobbing from the good wife, as was no doubt fitting, but
by no means cheering; and so we passed from the warmly-lit little
hall into the street, and mounted, clattering away toward the
westward gate of the town, with the reeve ahead and two of his men
after us.
The gates swung open for us, and two wayfarers took advantage
thereof to get inside, which was to their good fortune. Then we had
a quarter of a mile of road to pass before we came to the ford
below the field where our camp had been when we came. After us the
gates were shut again, and we rode on.
Then befell us a wonderful bit of good luck. There came the quick
tramp of a horse coming toward us, and out of the gloom rode a man
in haste. He pulled up short on seeing us, and I heard another
horse stop and go away directly afterward. It was too dark to see
much against the black trees and land among which we rode, and the
plainest thing about this comer was the little shower of sparks
which flew now and then from the paving of the old way and from his
horse's hoofs.
"Ho," said the reeve, with his hand on his sword hilt, "who comes?"
"Is that you, reeve? Well glad am I. Are you out with a posse
against those knaves at the ford?"
"Eh," said the reeve, while we all halted, "is the ford beset with
the Welsh?"
The man laughed somewhat.
"Not Welsh, but thieves of nearer kin. I ride homeward along the
river bank, and they stop me. It seemed to put them out that my
horse is not skew-bald, and that I am alone. However, they would
rob me."
The reeve whistled under his breath.
"How have you got away?" he asked.
"Rode over one of them who held my horse. There was one after me,
or more."
Now the reeve turned to me.
"What is to be done?" he said blankly. "This is what we had to fear
most of all. This is surely Gymbert with his men."
"How many may there be?" said I.
"Ten or a dozen, and mostly mounted," the stranger told me.
Now I had no time to think of aught, for the men who waited for us
heard the voices, and had been told that we had halted; whereon
here they came up the road at a hand gallop, in silence. The two
men of the reeve made no more ado, but fled townwards, and after
them, swearing, went their leader. With him the stranger went also,
shouting, and we three were left in the road with plunging horses;
and then, with a wild half thought that we might meet and cut our
way through these knaves ere they knew we were on them, I bethought
me of somewhat. I cried to Erling, and caught Hilda's bridle, and
so leaped from the road to the meadow, and held on straight across
it toward the dim outlines of bush and furze clumps which I
remembered as being close to our first camp.
I suppose that against the black woodland, with the town rampart
beyond us, we were hardly noted, or else those who came made sure
that we must try to get back to the town. At all events along the
road they thundered, past where we had stopped, and on after the
reeve and his men, who were shouting for the guard to open to them.
So we did not turn to right or left, but rode our hardest across
the soft turf, among the ashes of our camp fires, until we were
close on the place where Ethelbert had dreamed his dream of Fernlea
church under the riverside trees, by the pool where I had bathed
and frightened the franklin by my pranks. That schoolboy jest had
flashed into my mind with the memory of the shallows and
half-forgotten ford across them. I thought I might find it again.
"They are after us," said Erling. "Whither now?"
Hilda drew her breath in sharply, but made no more sign of fear.
"There is a ford here," I said, "if I can but find it. Let the
packhorse go, if need be."
"No need yet; they are at fault," my comrade answered.
Now I saw the tree which had sheltered the king, and close to it
was the ford, and already I scanned the surface of the swirling
water for the breaks in its flow which would mark the shallows. The
pursuers had spread abroad somewhat, and were keeping on a line
that would lead them past us, for we had turned down to the river
somewhat sharply.
Then the river water flashed white suddenly, and I pulled up. This
ford was beset also, for across it, waist deep in the middle,
hustled and splashed a line of men whose long spears lifted black
lines against the gleam of the pool below. And I suppose we were
seen at the same time against the white water; for there came a
yell from behind us, and the hoofs which followed us trampled
wildly after us.
At that the men in the water hurried yet more, passing to the Welsh
side, and that struck me as unlike the men who would seek to stay
us. And Erling knew what it meant.
"Welshmen," he said--"raiders! After them, and call to them."
With that I lifted my voice, and spurred my horse at the same time.
"Ho, men of the Cymro!" I cried in Welsh. "Ho! we are beset. Ho,
Jefan ap Huwal!"
The Welsh stayed in a moment, with a roar and swinging round of
weapons. Not fifty yards behind us, as the horses plunged into the
ford, there was a shout for halt, and Gymbert's men reined up with
a sound of slipping hoofs and clattering weapons on the steep bank
above us. A sharp voice from the other bank called to know who we
were and who after us.
"The Anglians!" I cried back. "Gymbert and ten men in pursuit!"
Then was a yell from the Welsh, and past us back they came with a
rush that told of hate for Gymbert. For a moment the longing to get
but one blow at that villain took hold of me, and I half turned
also.
"No, no," said Hilda at my side, and I remembered I might not go
from her.
So I passed through the water, and on the far bank turned to see
what I might. The white-clad Welsh were still swarming back, and
their leader began to try to stop them. I heard, as did he, the
sound of retreating horsemen as Gymbert found out the trap into
which he had so nearly fallen, and made haste to get out of it.
Now we were safe, and a tall Welshman came to me and welcomed us.
All this far bank was like a fair; for it was full of cattle, and
sheep, and horses, with a gray dog or two minding them.
"Jefan told us you were to come," he said; "but we looked for you
to cross at the great ford. We thought none knew of this now."
I told him how I found it, and thanked him for timely help. His men
were coming back, laughing and talking fast over the scare they had
given their enemy. They had taken one horse also, in the first
rush, but Gymbert had escaped.
The chief gave a short laugh.
"We were in time, indeed," he said; "but your coming fairly
frightened our rearguard across the water more quickly than our
wont. We could not tell who was coming. A wise man runs first and
looks round afterward, when he is in this sort of case."
"It seems to me that you have been somewhat bold tonight," I said.
"Yes, indeed; which made us fear the more. But we have had a fair
lifting, as you may see, dark as it is. Save that Offa has gone to
sleep, as men say, we might not have come. We have lifted every
head of stock well-nigh up to Sutton walls since dusk," and he
chuckled. "There was no man to hinder us."
Then he told us that we were all bound for Dynedor hill fort
together, and that there we should find Jefan. And so we went
slowly, with the herd of raided cattle before us, with a silence
which made me wonder. Presently I said as much, and the chief
chuckled again.
"'Tis practice," quoth he. "An you had had as much raiding as we
borderers, you would have learned the trick of quiet cattle
droving. I doubt if ever you had need to lift a herd."
I heard Erling laugh, and he answered for me.
"The paladin has most likely stolen as many head in a day as you
may find in a year. And I ken somewhat of the trade myself: I was
driving his countryside when I first met him. But we have both done
it with the high hand, and I think that yours is like to be the
best sport. You are first-rate drovers!"
That pleased the raiders, and there was pleasant talk enough of old
days as we went on. Presently the moon came out, and we went
quicker. It shone on the white faces of the great Hereford oxen and
kine, and showed us the keen dogs herding them skilfully as men.
So at last the black hill of Dynedor, crested with its works, rose
before us, and from it shone a score of watch fires.
"See, Hilda," I said, "yonder is your father, and all will be
well."
She answered me cheerfully, with a little shake of the reins, as if
she longed to hurry on; and I told her that now I must keep her
back, as she had kept me just now.
"Each to their own way," she said, sighing somewhat: "the man to
his weapon, and the woman to the sickbed that comes thereafter. See
what one evil deed has let loose on this land. It is terrible to
me. And how long it seems since we came to Fernlea in the bright
sunshine, deeming that all was to go well!"
"Yet all is not so much amiss," said I, seeing that the fears of
the day had hold of her.
And so I told her of Erling's christening, and of what we saw in
the church; for of this I had had no time to tell her before, save
when Erling himself had been with us.
Then in very gladness, for she liked my comrade, she lost her
gloomy thoughts, and would tell him softly of her pleasure. And so
we climbed the steep of the hill, and were met at the gate by Jefan
himself, with a frank welcome.
There were rough huts across the camp, set more or less at random,
and among them burned the fires which we had seen. There would be
about fifty men at most in the place, now that all had returned;
but the prince told me presently that he had had more when first
the alarm had been raised that Offa was summoning his thanes to him
for some unknown reason; whereby I gathered that here he had waited
for us.
"Lady," he said, as he helped Hilda from her horse, "your father is
but weak. I think that he began to mend when I told him that
doubtless you would be here tonight. I hope your ride has been easy
and without alarm."
"Hardly," said the chief who had rescued us. "It was a hard ride
for a matter of ten minutes, and we were frightened sorely. The
lady is the bravest I have ever met, for she screamed not once; and
the thanes are no bad judges of cattle raiding."
"Why, you have met with men after your own heart, Kynan," laughed
Jefan. "More of that tale by-and-by.
"Well, lady, you are safe, and that is the best. Now you shall see
your father.
"See to our guests, brother."
Jefan took Hilda's hand and led her to the best of the huts, and,
with a word to one within, entered. In a moment he was out again,
with a smile on his face in the firelight. I knew from that how
Sighard had met his daughter.
Kynan gave some orders to his men, and they took our horses,
leading them to a far corner of the camp. After that we were set
down to a great supper, and the tale of the flight and the raid was
told and retold. Then at last one fetched a little gilded harp, and
Kynan ap Huwal, the raider of cattle, set the whole story into
song, and did it well and sweetly.
After that was done came a white-haired priest, and we knelt for
the vespers; and then the watch was set under the moonlight, and
Erling and I stood in the gateway of the fort, and looked out on
the quiet land below us. It was no very great hill, but the place
was strong. How old it may be I cannot say, perhaps no man knows;
but since Offa drove the Welsh to the Wye it had been set in order,
with a stockade halfway down the steep earthwork round the hill
crest, so that men on its top could use their weapons on those who
were trying to scale it. The dry ditch was deep and steep sided,
and, so far as I could see in the moonlight, on this side at least
it would need a strong force to take it by storm, were it fairly
manned by say two hundred men. The gate had been made afresh of
heavy timber, narrow, and flanked on either side by overhanging
mounds, whence men could rain javelins on those who tried to force
it; and outside the gate were slight fences, which bent in wide
half circles, inside which the cattle we had driven in were penned.
Peaceful enough it all was, and the stillness of this hilltop after
the long unrest seemed as of a very haven after storm.
Presently Jefan and his brother came back after posting their men,
and then for half an hour I sat with Sighard and Hilda in the hut.
The thane had indeed had a narrow escape from the burning hall, and
had been left for dead by his pursuers. However, he had been but
stunned by the blow which felled him from his horse, and presently
recovering, had managed to get across the river and to some
Welshman's hut, whence Jefan took him.
As for those who had burnt the hall, he was sure that they were led
by Gymbert, and that they were no housecarls of Offa's. They had
slain Witred and another of the Mercian thanes who had fled with
him.
Then I asked him of himself and of his hurt.
"I am old to have the senses knocked out of me, and a blow that you
might think little of is enough to keep me quiet for a time.
However, that is all. Now that Hilda and you are safe, and the king
is found and honoured, I have naught to do but to get well. Trouble
not for me."
It seemed to me that there was no need for me to trouble about
aught either, and out in the open air, by one of the fires, I slept
till the dawn woke me, without so much as stirring.