Chapter IV. Jarl Osmund's Daughter.
To my mind, no gale seems so wild as one that comes at the time offull moon, when the clouds break up and fly in great masses ofblack and silver against the deeper sky beyond, while bright lightand deepest shadow chase each other across land and sea beneaththem. Kolgrim and I stood under the lee of a shed, waiting for thefisher to get his boat afloat, and looked out on bending trees andwhitened water, while beyond the harbour we could see the greatdowns, clear cut and dark, almost as well as by day, so bright itwas.
It was low water now, which was good for us, for the windingchannels that lead up to Wareham were sheltered under their barebanks. We could hear the thunder of the surf along the rocky coastoutside, when the wind ceased its howling for a moment; and at highwater the haven had been well nigh too stormy for a small boat. Nowwe should do best to go by water, for wind was with us; though,unless the gale dropped very quickly, we could not return in her,for there would be a heavy sea and tide against us if we could getaway before it turned, while if we were long wind against tidewould be worse yet.
The fisherman was eager to help us against the Danes, who had madehim work for nought; and so in half an hour we were flying up thehaven on the first rise of tide, and the lights of Wareham towngrew plainer every moment. From the number of twinkling sparks thatflitted here and there, it would seem that many folk were waking,even if some movement were not on hand.
Presently we turned into the channel that bends to the southwestfrom the more open water, and the town was before us. The fishertook to his oars now, lowering the scrap of sail that had beenenough to drive us very swiftly before the gale so far.
Wareham stands on the tongue of land between two rivers' mouths,and the tide was setting us into the northward of these. That wasthe river one would have to cross in coming to or from Poole, andmaybe we should learn as much there as anywhere.
There were three ships on the mud, but even in the moonlight it wasplain that they were not seaworthy. There were wide gaps in theirbulwarks, which none had tried to mend, and the stem head of onewas gone.
"These ships were hurt in the storm of lest week," the fisher said,as we drifted past them; "there was hardly one that came in unhurt.But the Danes were eager to go, and mended them as they could."
Perhaps that was partly the reason why we gained so easy a victory,I thought at the time, and afterwards knew that I was right. Theyhad suffered very much, while we lay across channel in safety.
There loomed before us the timbers of a strong bridge that had beenover the north river, when we were fairly in it and under thenearer houses of the town. But now it was broken down, and the gapin its middle was too wide for hasty repair.
"When was this done?" I asked the fisherman.
"Since yesterday," he answered.
Now this seemed to me to indicate that the Danes meant to guardagainst attack by land from Poole; also that they overrated ournumbers, which was probable in any case, seeing that a fleet hadfled from before us.
There were wharves on the seaward side of the bridge, but none werebeyond; and the houses stood back from the water, so that there wasa sort of open green between it and them. There were no peopleabout, but we could hear shouts from the town now and then.
"Let us go ashore and speak with some one," I said; "it is of nouse our biding here on the water."
Kolgrim and I were fully armed, and had boat cloaks with us whichcovered us well, and we thought none would question who we were ifwe mixed among the men in some inn or other gathering place. So webade the fisher wait for us, and found the stairs, and went to thewide green along the waterside, and across it to the houses, whichwere mostly poor enough here.
Many of them stood open, and in one a fire burned on the hearth,but all were empty. So we turned into a street that led seeminglyfrom one bridge to the other across the town. Here men were goinghither and thither with torches, and groups were outside some ofthe houses. To the nearest of these I went, as if I had all rightto be in the place.
They were bringing goods out of the house, and loading a cart withthem.
"Here is a flitting," said Kolgrim, "and another or two are on handyonder."
I stayed a man who came past me from out of a house.
"I have fled from Poole," I said. "What is in the wind here? Are weto leave Wareham also?"
"If you come from Poole, you should know that it is time we didso," he answered shortly. "I suppose you saw the whole business."
"So I did," I answered. "What are the orders?"
"Pack up and quit with all haste," said he. "You had better get towork if you have aught to save."
"Shall we go to Exeter, or back to Mercia?" I said.
"Exeter they say; but I know not. Why not go and ask Jarl Osmundhimself--or follow the crowd and hinder no one with questions?"
He hurried on; but then some men began to question us about thedoings off Swanage, and Kolgrim told them such tales that theyshivered, and soon we had a crowd round us listening. Nor did Ilike to hurry away, for I heard a man say that we were Northmen, byour voices. But there were plenty of our folk among the Danes.
Then came a patrol of horsemen down the street, and they bade theloiterers hurry. I drew Kolgrim into an open doorway, and stoodthere till they passed, hearing them rate their fellows for delay.
"Wareham will be empty tomorrow," I said. "Now we can go; we havelearned enough."
Still I would see more, for there seemed no danger. Every man wasthinking of himself. So we went across the town, and as we camenear the western bridge the crowd grew very thick.
We heard before long that the army was as great as Odda hadthought, and that they were going to Exeter. Already the advanceguard had gone forward, but this train of followers would hardlyget clear of the town before daylight. They had heard greataccounts of our numbers, and I wished we had brought the ships uphere at once. There would have been a rout of the Danes.
But the place was strange to me, and to Odda also, so that we couldnot be blamed.
We got back by the way we came, and then knew that we could in noway take the boat to Poole. The gale was raging at its highest, andthatch was flying from the exposed roofs. It would be dead againstus; and the sea was white with foam, even in the haven. So we mustgo by road, and that was a long way. But we must get back to Odda,for he should be in Wareham before the Danes learned, maybe, thattheir flight was too hurried.
Now it seemed to me that to leave Wareham was not so safe as tocome into it, for no Dane would be going away from the place.However, the bridge was down; and if it had not been done in toogreat haste, any fugitives from the country would have come in. Sothat maybe we should meet no one on the road that goes along theshore of the great haven.
The fisherman ferried us over to the opposite shore, and then tiedhis boat to the staging of the landing place, saying that he waswell known and in no danger. He would sleep now, and bring his boatback when the wind fell. So we left him, thanking him for hisgoodwill.
Grumbling, as men will, we set out on our long walk in the gale. Wecould not miss the road, for it never left the curves of the shore,and all we had to do was to be heedful of any meetings. There mightbe outposts even yet, watching against surprise.
However, we saw no man in the first mile, and then were feelingmore secure, when we came to a large farmstead which stood a shortbowshot back from the road, with a lane of its own leading to thegreat door. What buildings there were seemed to be behind it, andno man was about; but there was light shining from one of the highwindows, as if some one were inside, and plain to be seen in themoonlight were two horses tied by the stone mounting block at thedoorway.
"Here is a chance for us, master," said my comrade, coming to astand in the roadway. "I must try to steal these horses forourselves. If Danes are in the place, they have doubtless stolenthem; and if Saxons, they will get them back."
"There will be no Saxon dwelling so near the Danes," I said. "Maybethe place is full of Danes--some outpost
that is careless."
"Careless enough," said Kolgrim. "If they are careless for threeminutes more, they have lost their horses."
Then we loosened our swords in their sheaths, and drew our seaxes,and went swiftly up the grassy lane. The wind howled round thehouse so that none would hear the clank of mail, which we could notaltogether prevent. But the horses heard us, and one shifted aboutand whinnied as if glad to welcome us.
At that we ran and each took the bridle of that next him, and cutthe halter that was tied to the rings in the wall, looking to seethe doors thrown open at any moment. Then we leaped to the saddlesand turned to go. The hoofs made a great noise on the paving stonesbefore the doorway, yet there was no sound from inside the house.
That seemed strange to me, and I sat still, looking back with thehorse's head turned towards the main road.
"Stay not, master," Kolgrim said. "'Tis some outpost, and the menhave slept over the farmhouse ale. Maybe the stables behind arefull of horses. Have a care, master; the door opens!"
He was going; but I waited for a moment, half expecting to see aspear point come first, and my hand was on my sword hilt. But thegreat heavy door swung slowly, as if the one who opened it hadtrouble with its weight. So I must needs see who came. Maybe it wassome old man or woman whose terror I could quiet in a few words.
Then the red firelight from within shone out on me, and in thedoorway, with arms raised to post and door on either hand, stood atall maiden, white robed, with gold on neck and arm. The moonlighton her seemed weird with the glow of the fire shining through theedges of her hood and sleeves. I could see her face plainly, and itwas fair and troubled, but there was no fear in her looks.
"Father, is this you?" she said quietly.
I could make no answer to that, and she looked intently at me; forthe moon was beyond me, and both Kolgrim and I would seem blackagainst it, as she came from the light within, while the wind, keenwith salt spray, was blowing in her face.
"Who is it?" she said again. "I can scarcely see for moon and windin my eyes."
"Friends, lady," I said, for that at least was true in a way.
"Where are my horses? Have you seen aught of our thralls, whoshould have left them?" she asked, looking to whence we had justtaken the beasts.
Now I was ashamed to have taken them, for she was so plainly aloneand helpless, and I could not understand altogether how it could beso. I was sure that she was Danish, too.
"How is it that you have not fled, lady?" I asked. "Surely youshould have gone."
"Ay; but the thralls fled when they heard the news. Has not myfather sent you back for me?"
This seemed a terrible plight for the maiden, and I knew not whatto say or do. She could not be left in the way of our Saxons ifthey came on the morrow, and I could not take her to Poole. And so,lest I should terrify her altogether, I made up my mind even as shelooked to me for an answer.
"I think your father is kept in Wareham in some way. Does he lookfor you there?"
"Ay, surely," she answered; but there was a note as of some newfear in her voice. "Has aught befallen him? Have the Saxons come?"
"All is well in Wareham yet," I answered. "Now we will take you toyour father. But we are strangers, as you may see."
Then I called to Kolgrim, who was listening open eyed to all this,and backed away from the door a little.
"What is this madness, master?" he whispered hoarsely.
"No madness at all. Ten minutes' ride to Wareham with the maiden,give her to the fisherman to take to her friends, and then rideaway--that is all. Then we shall be in Poole long before any lookfor us, for we are in luck's way."
Kolgrim laughed.
"Strange dangers must I run with you, master; but that is what onemight look for with Ranald of the Sword."
Then I got off the horse, which was very strong and seemed quiet,and went to the maiden again.
"It will be best for you to come with us, lady," I said "we willsee you safely to Wareham."
The light fell on my arms now, and they were splendid enough, beingHarald Fairhair's gift, which I had put on for the fight, seeingthat the men loved to see their king go bravely, and being,moreover, nowise loth to do so myself. She seemed to takeheart--for she was well nigh weeping now--when she saw that I wasnot some wandering soldier of the great host.
"My horses, two of them should be here," she said. "I bade thethralls leave them when they fled."
So she thought not that we had loosed them, and did not know herown in the moonlight. Maybe she had no knowledge as to which ofmany had been left, and I was glad of that, for so her fear wasless.
"You must ride with us," I said, "and I would ask you to comequickly; even now the host is leaving Wareham."
"Ay, is that so? Then my father is busy," she said, and then shefaltered a little, and looked at me questioningly. "I cannot gowithout my nurse, and she is very sick. I think she sleeps now. Menfeared her sickness so that we brought her here from the town. Butindeed there is nought to fear; there is no fever or aught thatanother might take from her."
Then I grew fairly anxious, for this was more than I had lookedfor. I knew that it was likely that she would soon be missed andsought for; yet I could not think of leaving her to that chance,with the bridge broken moreover.
I gave the bridle to Kolgrim then to hold.
"Let me see your nurse," I said gently; "I have some skill in thesetroubles."
She led me into the house without a word. All the lower story wasin one great room, with a hearth and bright fire thereon in thecentre. Beyond that was a low bed, to which the maiden went. A veryold woman, happed in furs and heavy blankets, lay on it, and itneeded but one look to tell me that she needed no care but thelast. Past need of flight was she, for she was dead, though sopeacefully that her watcher had not known it.
"The sleep is good, is it not?" the maiden said, looking anxiouslyinto my face.
"It is good, lady," I answered, taking off my helm. "It is the bestsleep of all--the sleep that heals all things."
The maiden looked once at the quiet face, and once more at me, withwide eyes, and then she knew what I meant, and turned quickly fromme and wept silently.
I stood beside her, not daring to speak, and yet longing to be onthe road. And so still were we that Kolgrim got off his horse andcame to the door and called me, though not loudly.
I stepped back to him.
"Come again in a few minutes and say one word--'Saxons'" Iwhispered, "then we shall go."
He nodded and drew back. I think the maiden had not heard me move,for she was bent over the bed and what lay thereon. It seemed verylong to me before I heard my comrade at the door.
"Saxons, master!" he said loudly.
"Say you so?" I answered, and then I touched the maiden's armgently.
"Lady, we must go quickly," I said. "The dame is past all help ofours, and none can harm her. Come, I pray you."
She stood up then, still looking away from me, and I drew thecovering over the still face she gazed at.
"You must leave her, and I know these Saxons will not wrong thedead," said I gently. "Your father will miss you."
"I am keeping you also in danger," she answered bravely. "I willcome."
"Loth to go am I," she said, as she gathered her wrappings to herand made ready very quickly, "for it seems hard. But hard thingscome to many in time of war."
After that she ceased weeping, and was, as I thought, very brave inthis trouble, which was indeed great to her. And when she was cladin outdoor gear, she bent once more over the bed as in farewell,while I turned away to Kolgrim and made ready the horses. Then shecame, and mounted behind me on a skin that I had taken from a chairbefore the hearth.
Then we were away, and I was very glad. The good horse made nothingof the burden, and we went quickly. Many a time had I riddendouble, with the rough grip of some mail-shirted warrior round mywaist, as we hurried back to the ships after a foray; but this wasthe first time I had had charge of a lady, and it was in a stran
getime and way enough. I do not know if it was in the hurry offlight, or because they had none, but the horses had no saddlessuch as were for ladies' use.
So I did not speak till we were half a mile from the house, andthen came a hill, and we walked, because I feared to discomfort mycompanion. Then I said:
"Lady, we are strangers, and know not to whom we speak nor to whomwe must take you."
There was a touch of surprise in her voice as she answered:
"I am the Lady Thora, Jarl Osmund's daughter."
Then I understood how this was the chief to whom the man I spokewith first had bidden me go for orders. It was plain now that hewas up and down among the host ordering all things, and deeming hisdaughter in safety all the while. He had not had time to learn howhis cowardly folk had fled and left their mistress, fearing perhapsthe sickness of the old dame as much as the Saxon levies.
Now no more was said till we came to the riverside, where the floodtide was roaring through the broken timbers of the bridge. Thefisher slept soundly despite the noise of wind and water, andKolgrim had some trouble in waking him.
"How goes the flight?" I asked him when he came ashore with theboat's painter in his hand.
"Faith, master, I know not. I have slept well," he said.
Now by this time it seemed to me that I ought to take the lady intoa safe place, and I would go myself rather than leave her to thefisherman, who was rough, and hated the Danes heartily, as I knew.Moreover, I had a new plan in my head which pleased me mightily.Then I thought that if I were to meet any man who suspected me,which was not likely, the Lady Thora would be pass enough for me.So I told Kolgrim to bide here for me, and he said at first that hemust be with me. However, I made him stay against his will at last,telling him what I thought.
Then the fisher put us across quickly, and went back to the farside to wait my return.
I asked Thora where I must take her to find the jarl.
"To his house, surely," she said.
"I do not know the way from here," I answered; "I fear you mustlead me."
"As you will," she said, wondering. "It is across the towncertainly."
That was bad for me, perhaps, but I should find that out presently.So we went across the open, and came to the road through the townalong which I had been before. It was clearer, though there wereyet many people about.
Now when we were in the shadow of the first houses, Thora stoppedsuddenly and looked hard at me.
"Will you tell me if I am heading you into danger?" she said.
"What danger is possible?" I answered. "There are no Saxons hereyet."
"Not one?" she said meaningly. "I may be wrong--it does seemunlikely but I think you do not belong to us. Your speech is notlike ours altogether, and your helm is gold encircled, as if youwere a king."
"Lady," I said, "why should you think that I am not of your people?Let us go on to the jarl."
"Now I know that you are not. Oh, how shall I thank you for this?"
Then she glanced at my helm again, and drew a sudden little quickbreath.
"Is it possible that you are Alfred of Wessex? It were like whatthey say of him to do as you have done for a friendless maiden."
Then she caught my hand and held it in both of hers, looking halffearfully at me.
"Lady," I said, "I am not King Alfred, nor would I be. Come, let ushasten."
"I will take you no further," she said then. "Now I am sure thatyou are of the Northmen that were seen with the Saxons. You are notof us, and I shall lose you your life."
Then came the quick trot of horses, and I saw a little troop comingdown the street, their arms flashing in the streaks of moonlightbetween the houses.
"I will see you in good hands, Lady Thora," I answered. "Who arethese coming?"
"It is my father," she said, and drew me back deeper into shadow.
After the horsemen and beside them ran men who bore planks andropes, and it was plain that the jarl had found out his loss, andhastened to bridge the gap and cross the river.
I saw that I could keep up the pretence no longer.
"Let me walk behind you as your servant," I said. "If any heed me,I pray you make what tale you can for me."
"What can I say to you in thanks?" she cried quickly, and lettinggo my hand which she yet held. "If you are slain, it is my fault.Tell me your name at least."
"Ranald Vemundsson, a Northman of King Alfred's," I said. "Now I amyour servant--ever."
Then Thora left my side suddenly, and ran forward to meet theforemost horseman--for they were close to us--calling aloud toOsmund to stay. And he reined up and leaped from his horse with acry of joy, and took her in his arms for a moment.
I got my cloak around me, pulling the hood over my helm, and stoodin the shadow where I was. I saw the jarl lift his daughter intothe saddle, and the whole troop turned to go back. The footmen castdown their burdens where each happened to be, and went quicklyafter them; and I was turning to go my way also, when a man cameriding back towards me.
"Ho, comrade," he said, "hasten after us. Mind not the things leftin the boat. There is supper ere we go."
I lifted my hand, and he turned his horse and rode away, paying nomore heed to me. That was a good tale of things left that Thora hadmade in case I was seen to be going back to the boat.
Then I waxed light hearted enough, and thought of my other plan.Kolgrim saw me coming, and the boat was ready.
"Have you flint and steel?" I said to the fisher as I got into theboat.
"Ay, master, and tinder moreover, dry in my cap."
"Well, then, take me to those ships we saw. I have a mind to scarethese Danes."
It was a heavy pull against the sea to where they lay afloat now,though it was not far. I fired all three in the cabins under thefore deck, so that, as their bows were towards the town, the lightwould not be seen till I was away.
Then we went swiftly back to Kolgrim, and as I mounted and rodeoff, the blaze flared up behind us, for the tarred timbers burnedfiercely in the wind.
"That will tell Odda that the Danes are flying. And maybe it willsave Wareham town from fire, for they will think we are on them. SoI have spoiled Jarl Osmund's supper for him."
Then I minded that this would terrify the Lady Thora maybe, andthat put me out of conceit with my doings for a moment. But it wasplain that she was brave enough, for there were many things to frayher in the whole of this matter, though perhaps it was becauseKolgrim stayed beyond the river that she made so sure that I was aman of King Alfred's and no friend to the Danes.
So we rode away, pleased enough with the night's work, and reachedPoole in broad daylight, while the gale was slackening. Wellpleased was Odda to see me back, and to hear my news.
Then he asked me what I would do next. There seemed to be no morework at sea, and yet he would have me speak with King Alfred andtake some reward from him. And I told him that the season grewlate, and that I would as soon stay in England for this winter asanywhere.
"What will you do next in the matter of these Danes, however?" wasmy question.
Then he said:
"I must chase them through the country till they are within theking's reach. He has the rest pent in Exeter, and there will betrouble if they sail out to join these. I must follow them,therefore, end send men to Alfred to warn him. Then he will knowwhat to do. Now I would ask you to take the ships back into theriver Exe and join us there."
I would do that willingly, and thought that if the wind held fairafter the gale ended, I might be there before he joined the king byland. But I should have to wait for a shift to the eastward beforesailing.
So Odda brought his men ashore, and marched on Wareham and thenceafter the Danes, not meaning to fight unless some advantage showeditself, for they were too many, but to keep them from harming thecountry. And I waited for wind to take me westward.
Then the strange Norsemen left us. They had gained much booty inthe Danish ships, for they carried what had been won from theSaxons, and what plunder should be t
aken was to be their share indue for their services. They were little loss, for they weremasterless vikings who might have given trouble at any time if noplunder was to be had, and I was not sorry to see them sail away tojoin Rolf Ganger in France.
Now these men would have followed me readily, and so I should havebeen very powerful at sea, or on any shore where I cared to land.But Odda had made me feel so much that I was one in his counsel,and a friend whom he valued and trusted, that I had made thiswarfare against the Danes my own quarrel, as it were in hiscompany. Already I had a great liking for him, and the more I heardof Alfred the king, the more I wished to see him. At the least, aman who could build ships like these, having every good point ofthe best I knew, and better than any ever heard of before, wasworth speaking with. I thought I knew somewhat of the shipwright'scraft, and one thinks much of the wisdom of the man who is easilyone's master in anything wherein one has pride.
Moreover, Alfred's men were wont to speak of him with little fear,but as if longing for his praise. And I thought that wonderful,knowing only Harald Fairhair and the dread of him.
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