CHAPTER IV. THE SECRET MEETING.
I woke before the collier, who slept across the doorway on some skins,and lay in his sleeping place for half an hour, thinking of what shouldbe before me, and whither I would go this day.
And, thinking quietly enough now, I made the resolve to leave at allevents my revenge that I had so longed for to sleep for a while--forthe words of the good priest had bided with me, and moreover, I had somehope from his words of prophecy. So I would see how that turned out, andthen, if nought came of it, I would turn to my revenge again.
So having got thus far, the advice of the gray-haired warrior seemed asgood as any, for it was easy to me to get into West Wales, and then takeservice with the under-king until such time as Danish or Norse vikingsput in thither, as they would at times for provender, or to buy copperand tin from the miners.
But then a great longing came over me to see Alswythe once more, andlearn the truth of her faith or falseness. The man I had bound seemed tospeak truth, though she was the daughter of Matelgar. Yet if she werechild of that false man, I had known her mother well, and loved heruntil she died a year ago. And she was a noble lady, and full of honesty.
Now as safe a way as any into the Westland would be over the Quantocks,and so into the wilds of Dartmoor and beyond, where no man would know orcare for my outlawry--if, indeed, I found not more proscribed menthere than anywhere, who had fled, as I must fly, but with a price onthem. And if I fled that way, it was but a step aside to pass close toMatelgar's hall.
It was the least safe path for me, it is true--for I had had a tasteof what sort of reception I should meet with at his hands did he catchme or meet with me. But love drew me, and I would venture and see atleast the place where the one I loved dwelt.
Having made up my mind to that, I was all impatience to be going, andwoke the collier, saying that I must be afoot. He, poor man, started upin affright, dreaming doubtless that the fiend had returned, butrecovered himself, making a low obeisance to me, quickly.
Then he brought out bread of the coarsest and cheese of the best,grumbling that the fiend had devoured his better cheer. And I, beinglight hearted, having made up my mind, and being young enough not tolook trouble in the face too long, asked him if he had none of the roedeer left over?
Whereat he started, and looked terrified at me. Then I laughed, and saidthat Grendel had told me what was in the pot, and the man, seeing that Iwas not angry, began to grin also, wondering. Then the meaning of thewhole business seemed to come to him, and he sat down and began tolaugh, looking at me from under his brows now and then, lest I should bewroth with him for the freedom. But I laughed also, and so in the end wetwo sat and laughed till the tears came, opposite one another, and thatwas a thing that I had never thought to do again. At last I stopped, andthen he made haste to compose himself.
"Master," he said, "forgive me. But if you were Grendel, as I think now,there is a great fear off my mind."
"I was Grendel, Dudda," said I; "but you must have a sorely evilconscience to be so easily frighted."
"Nay, master; but from week to week I see none, least of all atmidnight, and mail-clad men never at all. I think I am the only man whofears not this marsh and what may haunt it."
"That you may never boast again," said I; "for scared you were, and thatbadly!"
"It is between you and me, master," said he, with much cunning in hislook; "as I pray the matter of what was in the cauldron may be also--"
"Well, as for that," I answered, "I ate it, and was glad of it, so Iwill not inquire how it came there."
But I was glad to have this secret as a sort of hold over this man, forthralls are not to be trusted far, nor was I in a mood to put much faithin any.
After that we ate in silence, and when we had finished, he put a loafand a half cheese into a wallet, and took a staff, and asked me tocommand him. I knew not what the hermit had told him, so asked how muchhe had learned of my errand.
"That you are on king's business, master, and in haste. Moreover thatyour errand is secret, so that you would not be seen in town or villageon your way."
"That is right," I said, thanking in my mind the good hermit, whoseready wit had made things so easy for me; moreover it was truthfulenough, for outlawry is king's business in all earnest, though not thehonour this poor thrall doubtless thought was put on me.
Then I told him that I need ask him but to guide me beyond Parret river,on this side of Bridgwater, for after that the long line of theQuantocks would guide me well enough. It was all I needed, for once outof this fenland I knew the country well--aye, every furlong of it--but I was willing enough to let him guide me through land I knew, thatif ever he were questioned--as he might well be when my outlawry wasknown--his tale of my little knowledge of the country would make menthink me some stranger, and so no blame would come on him for harbouringme.
So we started in the bright early morning, and he guided me well. Thereis little to say of that journey, but finding from the man's talk thatthe Moot rose not until the next day, I thought, with a lifting of myheart, how Matelgar would likely enough be yet there, and that I mightalmost in safety, unless he had sent word back concerning me to his men,go and try to gain speech of Alswythe.
Now it chanced presently that, looking about me, I seemed to know thelie of a woodland through which we passed, and in a little was sure wewere in that glade where I fought my fight. And next, I saw myquarterstaff still resting against the tree where I had left it. Thecollier saw it too, and said that some forester was doubtless restingclose by, seeming uneasy about the same. But I said that no questionshould be made of his presence in the wood, if it were so, and we cameup to it. Then he started, and cried to me to look around.
My billhook, covered with new rust from the dew, lay where I had thrownit in stripping off my own garments to arm myself; but of the man I hadslain only scattered bones were left. The wolves had devoured him.
When I saw that, I thought that this dead man might as well pass formyself--Heregar, the outlaw. So I examined billhook and quarterstaff,and at last said I knew them. They had been given to one Heregar, whohad been outlawed and driven from the Moot even as I stood to watch thegathering as I passed by.
"Then his outlawry has ended here," said the collier. "The wolves havedevoured him."
"Just as well," I said carelessly. "Shall you take his staff and bill?They are good enough."
"Not I," said the man. "It is ill meddling with strange men's weapons,most of all an outlaw's."
"Mayhap you are wise," I said, and, casting down the things alongsidethe bones, went on.
Now I had looked all round, and saw that my old garments were gone, sothat the man I had let go had at all events started away with them. Butnow I knew that the news of my death would soon spread, hard on thepublishing of the sentence of outlawry, for the doings of an outlaw areof the first interest to those among whom he may wander. As it was,indeed, to my guide, who spoke so much thereof that I knew he would befull of it, and tell it to all whom he met. And when he told me heshould go back through the town I was glad, for so Matelgar would havenews of the same, confirming the tale of his man, though not accountingfor his captain. Whereby he would be puzzled, and his life would be nonethe easier, for I knew he would dread my vengeance, though it might behard for me to compass.
At last we crossed the river, and went a little way together into thewoods beyond, till we came to the road which should lead the collierback to Bridgwater town. And there I made him give me directions forcrossing the Quantocks, as though I would go by Triscombe--which Ifeigned to know not, save by name given for my guidance on my way.
I looked for him to ask reward, but he did not, and what the hermit hadtold him I could not say, unless he had promised him reward on hisreturn. He made a low salutation before me, cap in hand, and I thankedhim for his pains, saying that I would not forget him, as I was sure hewould not forget "Grendel". And so we laughed, and he went away pleasedenough, giving me the wallet of food.
Then was I left alone in the woodlands that had been mine to huntthrough, for, holding our land from the king himself, I had many rightsthat stretched far and wide, which doubtless that Matelgar coveted forhimself, and would now enjoy. And hard it was, and bitter exceedingly,not to turn my steps straight through the town, where men had saluted mereverently, to my own hall where it nestles under the great rock thatlooks out over my low meadows, and away towards Brent across the wideriver. But that might not be. So I tried to stay myself with the thoughtof the hermit's prophecy, and plunging deep into the woods, crossed farback of my own place, until I could circle round towards Matelgar's hall.
And there I must go carefully, lest I should be seen and known by any;but the woods were thick, and none knew them better than I. These thingscome by nature to a man, and so I should not be proud that the verywoodmen would own that I was their master in all the craft of theforest, as my father had been before me.
Now Matelgar's hall, smaller than mine, though as well built, or better,lay in that glen which runs down towards the level meadows of Stertpoint between Severn and Parret, north of the little hills of Combwichand Stockland, and almost under that last. And there the forest camedown the valley--for it is not enough for me to call a combe--almostto the rear of the hall and the quickset inclosure around it.
It was afternoon and towards evening when I came here, and I bided inthe woods a mile from the hall, in a safe place where none ever came,until I heard the horn which called all men in to sup. Then, when Ijudged that they had gathered, I struck towards the path that leads downto the hall, keeping yet under cover. One ran in haste towards hissupper as I neared it, so I knew that perhaps he was the last to takehis place, and that for an hour or two I was secure.
Now in this wood, and not so far from where I was, is a little nook witha fallen tree, and here Alswythe and her mother were wont to come in thewarm evenings, and sit while the feeding in hall went on, so soon asthey could leave the board. And there, too, I had met Alswythe oftenlately, sitting and taking pleasure in her company, till she knew that Iwould want no better companion for all my life.
This was just such an evening as might tempt her there, and I would atleast have the sorrow of biding there alone for the last time. So Icrept to that place very softly, and sat me down to think.
Maybe I had sat there a quarter of an hour when I heard a step coming,and that step set my heart beating fast, for it was the one I longedfor. Then I feared to frighten her with sight of an armed man in herretreat, but before I could move, she came round the bend of the paththat made the place private, and saw me.
She gave a little scream, and half turned to fly, for she was alarmed,not knowing me in my arms. And all I could do was to take off my helmand hold out my hands to her, for I could not speak her name in my joy.
Then she laid her hand to her heart, and paused and looked; and before Icould step towards her, she was in my arms of her own will; so I wascontent.
Now how we two found ourselves sitting side by side presently, in theold place, I may hardly say, but so it was. And I forgot all about herfather and the evil he had wrought, knowing that she had no part in it,or indeed knowledge thereof.
For when we came to talk quietly, I found that she had thought me dead,and mourned for me: for Matelgar had told her that he knew nought of me.And I would not tell her of his treachery, for he was her father, and sofor her sake I made such a tale as I knew he was like to tell her,though maybe the truth would come sooner or later: how that secretenemies had trapped me, and had brought false charges against me, whichnone of my friends could combat, so skilfully were they wrought, andthen how that I was outlawed, and must fly.
And hearing this she wept bitterly, fearing, and with reason, that Ishould not return.
Then I comforted her with the hermit's prophecy, saying nought of herfather. And she, sweet soul, promised that Matelgar should tend my landsand hall well till the words of the holy man came true, and I might takethem back from him. And then she added that sorely cast down andtroubled had her father seemed when he rode back from the Moot that day,and doubtless it was from this. But how glad would he be to know meliving, and even now would take me in and set me on my way,notwithstanding the order of the ealdorman!
Now when I heard that Matelgar was indeed returned, and so close to me,I knew not what to do or say: for all my plans that he should think medead were like to be overthrown by the talk of this innocent daughter ofhis.
And she, seeing me troubled, would have me say what it was, and I foundit hard to answer her.
At last I told her how even Matelgar dared not harbour or assist me, andcried out on my folly in bringing blame even on her, were my presenceknown. But she stopped my mouth, telling me most lovingly that the riskwas worth the running, so that she knew me living again.
Then I said that, lest harm should come to her father, it were better tokeep secret that I had been here. And that, moreover, those enemies ofmine would doubtless track me till they knew me gone from the kingdom,so that were a whisper to go abroad that I had been seen here, it mightbe death for me.
"And for this," I added, "it is likely that Matelgar, your father, willhave it spread abroad that I am dead, in his care for my safety. For sowill question about me and where I am cease."
This I said lest she should deny when the news came, as it must, thatthis was so.
Yet she longed to tell her father that I was here; but at last Ioverpersuaded her, and she promised to tell none, not even him, that shehad seen me, and for my sake to feign to believe that I was dead.
Then we must part. I told her my plans for going still westward to makemyself a name, if that might be; and promised to let her have news ofme, if and when I might, and in all to be true to her.
And she, brave girl, would try not to weep as I kissed her for the lasttime; and gave me the little silver cross from her neck to keep for hersake, telling me that she would pray for me night and day, and thatsurely her prayers, and those of the holy man and the innocent childwould be heard for me, so that the prophecy would come true. And moreshe said, which I may not write. Then footsteps came up the main path,and I must go.
I heard her singing as she went back to the hail in the evening light,and knew that that was for my sake, and not for lightness of heart; andso, when her voice died away, I plunged again into the woods, makingwestward while light lasted.
A Thane of Wessex Page 4