King Olaf's Kinsman<br />A Story of the Last Saxon Struggle against the Danes in the Days of Ironsid by Charles W. Whistler (free novel 24 txt) 📗

break it by thus taking Hertha out of my ken. And we talked freely of the matter, and the last thing that I said was this, coming round to what I had made up my better mind for:

"It is not much matter either way. I can think of no maiden as things are."

Whereon we met Eldred, and his face was not pleasant to look on, though he said nothing at that moment, and turned and walked silently with us on the other side of the maiden.

When we came to the village I said that we would wait outside until she came back, and thought that Eldred would go along with her. But he stayed with me, and I looked round for a sunny seat where one could see all the long chain of bright hammer ponds that went in steps, as it were, down the valley before us.

"Nay," he said in a strange voice, "come over to the other side of the valley--there is a pleasant place there."

"The lady will miss us," said I.

"We need not be long," he said. "The place I would show you is not far. One of us can be back before she has done with these churls."

So, as I supposed that we might have to wait for half an hour, because every woman in the place would want to tell her ailments to the kindly young mistress most likely, we went together, passing over the brook, and going up the steep valley side beyond it, until we came to the rocks of the old quarry where we had rested before the fight with the outlaws.

A pleasant place enough it was, truly, for the rocks stood round in a little cliff, hemming in a lawn of short grass on every side but one, and the trees that hung on the bank of the stream closed that in. So when we were fairly within this circle of red cliff and green trees Eldred said:

"This will do. We will see which of us is to go back to Sexberga."

"Why, you will," said I, thinking that he had some device by which he might be free from my presence. "I spoil company for you both, and will go back to the hall by the lower track presently."

"You have spoilt company long enough," he said, his face growing very savage of a sudden. "Now I will end it, one way or the other."

"What is this foolishness?" I said, seeing now what he meant.

"You know well enough," he answered with a great oath. "Pluck out that fine sword of yours and show that you can do more than talk of using it."

"Come, Eldred," said I, "I have not deserved this."

"You deserve all that I shall give you," he answered, drawing his sword. "Stand up like a man."

Now it seemed very hard to me that all these friendships should be broken and spoilt by this foolish business, as they would be if either of us was hurt; and so I tried to quiet him yet once more.

"Eldred, listen to reason," I said. "I have done you no wrong. Tell me of what you complain."

Thereat he only cursed, bidding me draw and cease prating.

"I will not fight you thus," I said, for he was growing over wild to fight well for himself. "Let us find some to attend us and watch the business, that neither of us may be blamed. It is ill to slay a man in a hidden place like this with none to say that the fight was fair."

"You are afraid," he said sneeringly.

"You must ask Relf if that is likely," said I, for I would not be angered by his angry words. "But I do not care to risk blame to you or me. Nought is gained by fighting thus."

"Ask Relf, forsooth!" he snarled. "I care not to hear again how you lay hid in the pit yonder while others fought."

"Have a care, Eldred," I said then. "You grow heedless in your anger, and go too far. I do not think that you mean this."

"Do you need to be called nidring {12}?" he snarled at me.

Now none heard that word pass between us, and though it made me bitterly angry I kept my wrath back. Truly I began to think that I was foolish to argue with him; but there would be grief, lifelong, at Penhurst if deadly harm befell either of us where none could say that all was fairly fought out.

"Are you not going?" he said in a choking sort of way.

"No," I said, "not until I know what all this is about."

"What good in going over that again?" he answered. "You know well enough. Let me be--you have won."

"I know," said I; "but you have not told me aught. I can only guess that you think that I have taken your place with Sexberga."

"Aye--and now you have won it."

"I want it not," I answered. "Had you not been so angry you would have known that, when I bid you go back and meet her without me."

Now he looked at me with a sort of doubt, and said, in a somewhat halting way:

"I heard you just now tell her that it could not be that you could think of her--as things are."

Then I remembered what my last words had been, and I saw that they might easily have misled him after all the trouble he seemed to have had.

"You heard too much or too little," said I, being minded to laugh, though the matter was over serious to him to let me do so. "I spoke of my own troubles, which were the less because my fortunes prevent my thinking of any maiden, seeing that I have no home to give a wife when I find her. You were wrong in thinking that I spoke of Sexberga--I spoke, as you might have known, of the one whom I have lost."

"How should I know that? I know nought of your affairs."

Then thought I to myself that I would punish Sexberga, for she had tortured this honest lover of hers over much.

"I will not tell you that tale. Ask Sexberga, who has known it from the first."

Then I was sorry for what I had said, for he flushed darkly.

"I have been made a fool of," he said.

"Nay; but you should have been more trustful," said I. "Now, were I in your place, I would go home to Dallington and bide there for a week, and the maiden will be pleased enough to see you when you return. And if she tries to make you jealous again, seem to mind it not. There is little sport in it for her then."

"I suppose there would not be," said he, and he began to look more cheerful.

"Now," said I, "I was betrothed long ago--the war time has come between me and her who should have been my wife. I have hunted for her and cannot find her--and that is all. Now you understand. It was Sexberga who cheered me in my search, and so I spoke to her thereof."

"I should not have doubted you," he said frankly; "forgive me."

I held out my hand and he took it. There was nought but friendliness in his grasp, and I could not blame him. I blamed Sexberga wholly.

Then he laughed a little ruefully.

"I am a fool with a sword," he said. "Will you teach me somewhat? I think I was mad when I used those evil words to you."

"I have forgotten them," I answered; and so I had. One does not think much of what a man says in utmost rage as his. "Come, let us go back to the village."

So we went back together, but Sexberga had gone on her way homeward without us. Whereat Eldred was not sorry, and said that he was going back to his own place.

"You will see me no more for a few days," he said. "I think your plan is good."

"Mind this," I answered, "I never tried it."

"Lookers-on see best," he answered, laughing bitterly. "But think no more of my anger with yourself, I pray you."

I told him that I would not, and so we parted good friends enough, though I feared that he might take this matter to heart in such wise that he would have some ill moments presently. There was little spring in his walk as he took the path towards Dallington.

I said nought of this affair, as one might suppose, and made little excuse to Sexberga for leaving her. We had walked too far, and had returned too late to find her, I said. She pouted and said nothing, but I thought that her punishment had already begun.

Next day there were ships heading in for Pevensea, and I rode away to find out what I could, and forgot Eldred and his troubles. For Olaf had come, and that was luck beyond what I could have looked for.

The ten great ships slid into the haven, and I was first on the strand to meet the king. Wulfnoth and Godwine were riding inland, and doubtless were returning posthaste if they knew that ships had come. But for a little while I had my kinsman to myself, and great was his wonder to find me in this place.

"I have thought that I should have to ransom you from Cnut's hand," he said, "for we have heard that Thorkel's men took the queen's ship. Were you not taken likewise?"

So when he heard of all that had brought me here, he praised Egil highly.

"He is a Norseman, and no Dane, by birth," he said. "One may be proud that he is so. I would that he were my man."

Then was my turn, and I wondered how Olaf had left London, for the Thames was full of Danish ships, as I had heard.

"Aye, so it is yet," he told me. "The Danes cannot take the city, try what they will, though they dug a great ditch round the Southwark fort, and took ships through it above the bridge, and so kept us shut up close enough. But walls and forts and citizens are too much for them. Now the siege is but a blind, while the real warfare is to be in Wessex. So I came away with the Danes, my men being tired of unprofitable warfare where we were not wanted, and gaining, moreover, neither gold nor honour."

"You came away with the Danes?" I cried. "Surely you made no pact with them?"

"Not I," said he. "But they sailed with an evening tide, which was my chance. Ten ships among four hundred or so make no odds. We took off the dragon heads, and when it was quite dark rowed down after them, and so caught them up at Greenwich. Then we slipped through the fleet easily, for it was mostly of cargo ships full of men, and no one paid any heed to us, as might be supposed. So by daylight we led the fleet, or nearly, and when the next night came we stood away from it, going across Channel. Then I came here to see if Wulfnoth or Godwine would cruise with me on some other shore, as I promised."

Then I asked him what I had better do, for with the sight of his face came the longing to be free again.

"Come with me," he said. "I am going to win ransom from a town or two against the time when I shall need gold wherewith to win men to me in Norway."

I think that I should have done this in the end, though I did not like to leave England without striking one more blow for Eadmund, and I cannot deny that I thought that Uldra would blame me if I did leave our land when she needed every sword that would strike for her. I had come to think very much of what the steadfast eyes of the brave maiden would tell me as I watched her face.

But that evening came Wulfnoth and Godwine, and they had made a plan for themselves which might help me to reach Eadmund when my freedom came. They had manors on the Severn, at Berkeley, and the earl would go there to save them if possible from plunder. At least, that is what he told me and Olaf. Whether he had any other deeper plan I cannot say. It seemed afterwards as if that might be so.

They brought back some strange news, too, at which both Olaf and I wondered. There was a rumour spreading through the country from Winchester that Cnut would wed Emma the queen.

"It is not likely," said Olaf. "She is twenty years older than he."

"If any man wants revenge on Cnut, I would counsel him to go and do all he can to see that this marriage comes to pass," sneered