CHAPTER V. THE VIKINGS ARRIVE.
Now after I had parted from Alswythe, my true love, I could not forbeara little heaviness at first, because I knew not when I should see heragain. But there is a wonderful magic in youth, and good health, andstrength, and yet more in true love requited, which will charm a manfrom any long heaviness. So before long, as I went through the twilightwoodlands towards the mighty Quantock hills, my heart grew light withinme; and I even dared to weave histories in my mind of how I would make aname for myself, and so return in high honour by very force of bravedeeds done, deeds that should be spoken of through all the land. It is astrange heart in a youth that cannot, or will not, do the like for hisfuture, and surely want of such thoughts will lead him to nothing great,even if it does not bid him sink to the level of his own thralls, as Ihave known men fall.
However, my heart was full of brave dreamings, always with the thoughtof Alswythe as my reward at the end; so that I began to long to start mynew life, and went on swiftly that I might the sooner leave behind theland that was to be closed to me.
Night fell as I came to the mouth of the long combe that runs up underTriscombe where the road crosses, and to south of it, and I began towonder how I should lodge for the night. Then I remembered a woodman'shut, deep in the combe, that would serve for shelter, keeping the wolvesfrom me, as it kept them from the woodmen, who made it for the purpose--the place being far from any village, so that at times they wouldbide there for nights when much work was on hand. None would be there inMaytime, for the season for felling was long past.
So I found my way to the hut, and there built a fire, and then must, inthe dark, grope for a flint wherewith to strike light on steel, butcould not find one among the thick herbage. So I sat in the dark, eatingmy bread and cheese, and thinking how that I was like to make a poorwanderer if I thought not of things such as this. However, I thought mywanderings would last no long time, and as the moon rose soon I wascontent enough, dreaming of her from whom I had parted so lately.
I will not say that the wish for revenge on Matelgar had clean gone, forhim I hated sorely. But for me to strike the blow that I had longed forwould be to lose Alswythe, and so I must long for the words of sooth tocome true, that I might see revenge by other hands than mine. Then againmust I think of hurt to Matelgar as of hurt to Alswythe, so that I darednot ponder much on the matter; but at last was fain to be minded to waitand let the hermit's words work themselves out, and again fall to mydreaming of great deeds to come.
Out of those dreams I had a rough waking, that told me that I was notall a cool warrior yet.
Something brushed by the door of the hut with clatter of dry chips, andsnarl, as it went, and my heart stopped, and then beat furiously, whilea cold chill went over me with the start, and I sprang up and back,drawing my sword. And it was but a gray badger pattering past the hut,which he feared not, it having been deserted for so long, on his searchfor food.
Then I was angry with myself, for I could not have been more feared hadit been a full pack of wolves; but at last I laughed at my fears, andbegan to look round the hut in the moonlight. Soon I had shut and barredthe heavy door, and laid myself down to sleep, with a log for pillow.
Though sleep seemed long in coming, it came at last, and it was heavyand dreamless, until the sun shone through the chinks between the logswhereof the hut was built, and I woke.
Then I rose up, opened the door, and looked out on the morning. Thelevel sunbeams crept through the trees and made everything very freshand fair, and a little light frost hung over twigs and young fern frondseverywhere, so that I seemed in the land of fairy instead of theQuantocks. The birds were singing loudly, and a squirrel came andchattered at me, and then, running up a bough, sat up, still as ifcarved from the wood it was resting on, and watched me seemingly withoutfear. Then I went down the combe and sought a pool, and bathed, and atethe last of the food the collier had given me. Where I should get more Iknew not, nor cared just then, for it was enough to carry me on for thenext day and night, if need be, seeing that I had been bred to ahunter's life in the open, and a Saxon should need but one full meal inthe day, whether first or last.
Now while I ate and thought, it seemed harder to me to leave these hillsand combes that I loved than it had seemed overnight; and at last Ithought I would traverse them once again, and so make to the headland,above Watchet and Quantoxhead on either side, and then down along theshore, always deserted there, to the hills above Minehead, by skirtinground Watchet, and so on into the great and lonely moors beyond, where Icould go into house or hamlet without fear of being known.
Then I remembered that to seek help in the villages must be to askcharity. That would be freely given, doubtless, but would lead toquestions, and, moreover, my pride forbade me to ask in that way. Then,again, for a man so subsisting it might be hard to win a way to a greatman's favour, though, indeed, a stout warrior was always sure to findwelcome with him who had lands to protect, but not so certainly with theother housecarles among whom he would come.
So I began to see that my plight was worse than I thought, and satthere, with my back to an ash tree, while the birds sang round me, andwas downcast for a while.
Then suddenly, as I traced the course that I had laid out in my mind,going over the hunts of the old days, when I rode beside my father andsince, I bethought me of one day when the stag, a great one of twelvepoints, took to the sea just this side of Watchet town, swimming outbravely into Severn tide, so that we might hardly see him from thestrand. There went out three men in a little skiff to take him, havingwith them the young son of the owner of the boat. And in some way theboat was overturned, as they came back towing the stag after them, whensome hundred or more yards from shore, and in deep water where a swiftcurrent ran. Two men clung to the upturned boat; but the other mustswim, holding up his son, who, though a big boy of fourteen, washelpless in the water. And I saw that it was like to go hard with bothof them, for the current bore them away from shore and boat alike.
So I rode in, and my horse swam well, and we reached them in time, sothat I took the boy by his long hair and raised him above the water,while the man, his father, swam beside us, and we got safely back to thebeach, they exhausted enough but safe, and I pleased that my good horsedid so well.
But the man would have it that I and not the horse saved his son, andwas most grateful, bidding me command him in anything all his life long,even to life itself, saying that he owed me both his own and the boy's.And that made me fain to laugh it away, being uneasy at his praise,which seemed overmuch. However, as we rode home, my father said I hadmade a friend for life, and that one never knew when such would be wanted.
Now this man was a franklin, and by no means a poor one, so now at lastI remembered my father's words, and knew that I was glad to have onefriend whom I knew well enough would not turn away from me, for I hadseen him many times since, and liked him well.
I would go to him, tell him all--if he had not yet heard it, which waspossible--and so ask him to lend me a few silver pieces in my need. Iknew he would welcome the chance of showing the honesty of his words,and might well afford it. Thus would I go, after dark lest I should beseen and he blamed, and so make onward with a lighter heart and freer hand.
So I waited a little longer in the safe recesses of the deep combe untila great gray cloud covered all the tops of the hills above me, and Ithought it well to cross the open under its shelter to Holford Coombe,which I did.
There I loitered again, hearing the stags belling at times across thehollows to one another, but hardly wishful to meet with them in theiranger. I saw no man, for once I had crossed the highroad none was likelyto seek the heights in Maytime. And I think that no one would have knownme. For in my captivity my beard had grown, and my hair was longer thanits wont; and when I had seen my face in the little pool that morning, Imyself had started back from the older, bearded, and stern face that metme, instead of the fine, smooth, young looks that had been mine on thenight of my last feast. But there
were many at the Moot, which was evennow dispersing, who had seen only this new face of mine, and I could nottrust to remaining long unrecognized. None might harm me, that was true;but to be driven on, like a stray dog, from place to place, man to man,for fear of what should be done to him who aided me in word or deed, wasworse, to my thought, than open enmity.
Now as night fell the clouds thickened up overhead, but it was still andclear below, if dark; and by the time the night fairly closed in, Istood on the heights above Watchet, and, looking down over the broadchannel and to my left, saw the glimmering lights of the little town.
There I waited a little, pondering the safest way and time for reachingthe franklin's house, for I would not bring trouble on him by beingseen. All the while I looked out over the sea, and then I saw somethingelse that I could not at first make out.
Somewhere on the sea, right off the mouth of the Watchet haven, andseemingly close under me, there flashed brightly a light for a momentand instantly, far out in the open water another such flash answered it--seen and gone in an instant. Then came four more such flashes, each alittle nearer than the second, and from different places. Then I foundthat the first and one other near it were not quite vanished, but that Icould see a spark of them still glowing.
Now while I wondered what this might mean, those two nearer lights beganto creep in towards the haven, closer and closer, and as they did so,flashed up again, and answering flashes came from the other places.
The night was still, and I sat down to see more or this, knowing thatthey who made these signals must be in ships or boats; but not knowingwhy they were made, or why so many ships should be gathered off thehaven. Anyway there would be many people about to meet them if they camein, and that would not suit me.
Then all of a sudden the light from the nearest ship flamed up, brightand strong, and moved very fast towards the haven, and the othersfollowed, for first one light and then another came into sight like thefirst two as they drew near. I knew not much about ships, but it seemedto me as if lanterns were on deck, and hidden from the shore by thebulwarks, perhaps, but that being so high above, I could look down on them.
"If they be honest vessels," thought I, all of a sudden, "why do theyhide their lights?" for often had I seen the trading busses pass up ourParret river at night with bright torches burning on deck.
What was that?
Very faint and far away there came up to me in the still air, for whatbreeze there was set from the sea to me, a chant sung by many roughvoices--a chant that set my blood spinning through me, and thatstarted me to my feet, running with all the speed I could make in thedarkness to warn Watchet town that the vikings were on them! For now Iknew. I had heard the "Heysaa", the war song of the Danes.
But before I could cover in the dark more than two miles I stopped, forI was too late. There shot up a tongue of flame from Watchet town, andthen another and another, and the ringing of the church bell came to mefor a little, and then that stopped, and up on Minehead height burnt outa war beacon that soon paled to nothing in the glare of the burninghouses in the town. I could fancy I heard yells and shrieks from thence,but maybe that was fancy, though I know they were there for me to heartruly enough.
But I could do nothing. The town was too evidently in the hands of theenemy, and I could only climb up the hill again, and watch where theships went, perhaps, as I had seen them come.
As I clomb the hill the heavy smell of the smoke caught me up and bidedwith me, making me wild with fury against the plunderers, and againstMatelgar, in that now I might not call out my own men and ride to thesheriff's levy with them, and fight for Wessex as was my right.
And these Danes, or Northmen, whichever they might be--but we calledthem all Danes without much distinction--were the very men with whom Ihad thought to join when I won down to Cornwall.
One thing I could do, I could fire the beacon on the Quantocks. That wasa good thought; and I hurried to the point where I knew it was everpiled, ready, since the day of Charnmouth fight two years agone.
I found it, and, hammering with the flint I had found in case of such anecessity as last night's, I kindled the dry fern at its foot towindward, and up it blazed. Then in a quarter hour's time it wasanswered from Brent, and from a score of hills around.
Now, as I stood by the fire, I heard the sound of running footsteps, faroff yet, and knew they were the messengers who were bidden to fire thebeacon. So I slipped aside into cover of its smoke, and lay down in alittle hollow under some bushes, where I could both see and hear themwhen they came.
They were four in all, and were panting from their run.
"Who fired the beacon?" said one, looking round.
"Never mind," said another; "we shall have credit for mighty diligencein doing it."
"But," said the first, "he should be here."
Then they forgot that in the greater interest they had left, or escapedfrom, and began to talk of the vikings.
The men from two ships had landed, I learned, and had surprised theplace; scarce had any time to flee; none to save goods. They mentionedcertain names of the slain whom they had seen fall, and of these one wasthe franklin whom I was going to seek. There was no help for me thence now.
One man said he had heard there were more ships lying off; but they didnot know how many, and I could see they had been in too great haste tocare to learn.
Soon fugitives--men, women, and children--began to straggle inwretched little groups up the hill, weeping and groaning, and I knewthere would soon be too many there for my liking. So I crept away,easily enough, and went out to the headland.
But I could see nothing on the sea now; and so, very sad at heart, Isought a bushy hollow and laid me down and slept, while the smoke ofWatchet hung round me, and now and then a brighter glare flashed overthe low clouds, as the roof of some building fell in and fed the flamesafresh.
I woke in the light of the gray dawn, and the smell of burning was gone,and the sea I looked out on was clear again, for a fresh breeze from theeastward was sweeping the smoke, as I could see, away to the otherhills, westward. But the town was gone--only a smoke was left for allthere was for me to look down on, instead of the red-tiled andgray-thatched roofs that I had so often seen before from that place ornear it.
Next I saw the ships of the vikings. They lay out in the channel atanchor, for the tide was failing. I suppose they had gone into thelittle haven as soon as there was water enough, and that those lights Isaw were signs made from one to the other when that was so. There werespecks near them--moving--their boats, no doubt, from the shore,bringing off plunder. The long ships themselves looked like barley cornsfrom so high above, or so I thought them to look, if they were larger tosight than that, for that was their shape.
Now I had not thought that they would have bided when the beacons werelit; but would have gone out westward with this tide. And therefore Iwondered what their next move would be, but expected to see them upanchor and go soon.
Waiting so, I waxed hungry, for nought had I tasted, save a few birds'eggs that I had found in Holford Coombe, since that time yesterday.Birds' eggs, thought I, were better than nought, so I wandered among thebushes seeking more. As I did so, by and by, I came in sight of thebeacon on the hilltop, and looking up at it, rather blaming mycarelessness, saw that but two men were there, tending it, and fromtheir silver collars I knew that they were thralls. They were putting ongreen bushes to make a smother and black smoke that would warn men thatthe enemy were yet at hand.
When I saw that both the men were strange to me, I went up to them, asthough come to find out news of the business. And they saluted me,evidently not knowing me. I talked with them awhile, and then sharedtheir breakfast with them, glad enough of it. They had, however, no moreto tell me than I had already learnt, beyond tales of horror brought bythe fugitives of last night, which I will not write.
Those people had soon passed on, fearing, as each new group came up,that the enemy was on their heels. They had doubtless scattered into thevillag
es beyond.
So the time went idly, and the sun rose, while yet the tide fell and theships lay beneath us. Smoke, as of cooking fires, rose from their decks,and they were evidently in no hurry. Nor need they be. In those days wehad no warships such as our wise king has made us since then, and nonecould harm them on the open water.
In an hour's time, however, there came a change over the sea. Littlewaves began to curl over it, and when the sun broke out it flashedbright where the wind came over in flaws here and there. Then from eachship were unfurled great sails, striped in bright colours, and one byone they got under way, and headed over towards the Welsh coast, beyondchannel. The tide had turned.
"They are going," said I, with much gladness.
One of the men shook his head.
"They do but slant across the wind, master. Presently they will go aboutand so fetch the Wessex shore again, and so on till they reach wherethey will up channel."
We watched them, and while we watched, a man came up from the west,heated and tired out, and limping with long running as it seemed. Andwhen he saw me he ran straight to me, and thrusting a splinter of woodinto my hand, cried in a panting voice:
"I can no more--In the king's name to Matelgar of Stert--the levy isat Bridgwater Cross. In all haste."
It was the war arrow [vi]. No man might refuse to bear that onward.Yet--to Matelgar--and by an outlaw! But the man was beat, and thethralls might not bear it.
"Look at me; know you who I am?" I said to the man, who had cast himselfdown on the grass, panting again.
"No--nor care," he said, glancing at me sharply. "On, and tarry not."
"I am an outlaw," I said simply.
"Armed?" he said, with a laugh. "Outlaw in truth you will be, an youspeed not."
"I am Heregar," I said again.
"Curse you!" said the man; "go on, and prate not. If you were Ealhstanhimself, with his forked hat on, you must go."
"Heregar--my master's friend," cried one of the two thralls, "if it betrue you are outlawed, as I heard yesterday, go and win yourself inlawedagain by this."
Then I turned, and wasted no more time, running swiftly down the hilland away towards the spot where my enemy lay at Stert, and that honestthrall of my friend, the slain franklin's, shouted after me for good speed.
"Well," I thought, as I went on at a loping pace, "I can prove myloyalty maybe--but I have to bear this into the wolf's den--and muchthe proof will serve me!"
Then I thought that presently I would feign lameness, and send on someother. And so I ran on.
I struck a path soon, and kept it, knowing that, if one met andrecognized me, the token I bore was pass enough--moreover, none mightharm me, if they would, so that I was doing no wrong in being turnedback, as it were, by emergency, from leaving the kingdom. Now, as Itrotted swiftly along the track, there lay in my way what I thought wasa stone till I neared it. Then I saw that it was a bag, and so picked itup, hardly pausing, shaking it as I did so.
It was full of money! Doubtless some one of the fugitives dropped itlast night as they went in haste, hardly knowing they had it, perhaps.Well, better with me than with the Danes, I thought, and so bestowed thebag inside my mail shirt, and thanked the man who sent me on thiserrand. For now I felt as if free once more; for with sword and mail andmoney what more does man need?
When next I came to a place that looked out over sea, I could no morespy the ships. They must have stretched far across to the Welsh coast.Only the two holms broke the line of water to the north and east upchannel.
Then the thought came to me that the Danes were gone, and what use goingfurther with this errand? But that was not my business; the war arrowmust go round, and the bearer must not fail, or else "nidring" [vii]should he be from henceforward. So I went on.
Now, at last, was I but a mile or two from Stert, and began to wish tomeet one to whom to give the arrow--but saw no man. I turned aside toa little cluster of thralls' and churls' huts I knew. There were nopeople there, and one hut was burnt down. Afterwards I heard that theyhad been deserted by reason of some pestilence that had been there; butnow it seemed like a warning to do the duty that had been thrust on me.
Then at last I remembered the prophecy of the old hermit--and my heartbounded within me--for, indeed, unlooked for as this was, surely itwas like the beginning of its working out.
Now would I go through with it, and on the head of Matelgar be the blamewere I slain. Known was I by name to the messenger who gave me thearrow, and to those thralls, and known therefore would my going toMatelgar be.
Nevertheless, when I went down that path that I have spoken of, towardthe hall, looking to meet with one at every turn, my heart beat thickenough for a time, till a great coolness came over me and I feared nought.
Yet must I turn aside one moment to lock into that nook where Alswytheand I had met, but it was empty. I knew that it must be so at that hour,but I was of my love constrained to go there.
Then I ran boldly round the outer palisade and came to the great gate.
A Thane of Wessex Page 5