Chapter 9

By Ely and Huntingdon and Northampton, and so through the very heart of England, across the sweet Avon at Stratford, our way took us, under trees that had their first leaves fresh and sweet on them, and past orchards pink and white, with the bees busy among the bloom. I had seen many a fair country beyond the sea in the wide realms of Carl, but none so sweet as this to my mind. The warm rain that came and stayed us now and then but made it all the sweeter; and I mind, with a joy that bides with me, the hours of waiting in old halls and quiet monasteries.

That black cloud of fears cleared away presently, for it was in all truth a very bridal procession in which we rode. Everywhere the news went before us that hither came the well-loved king to bear away the sweet daughter of Mercia, and from town and hamlet the bells greeted us, and the folk donned their holiday gear to come to meet us. I had not known that the name of Ethelbert, young as he was, could have been so held in love across the land. But Father Selred told me that never had been such a king as he, as there surely had never been such promise of the days when he was the heir to the throne.

First in all he was in the minds of every man who knew him, whether in war or peace, council or chamber, and maybe he was the only one who did not know it. I learned much of him in that ride, and always with a growing love of him and a deeper wonder. He thought for every one but himself.

Nor was there a church, however small, which he passed on that happy journey toward his bride which was not the richer and brighter for some gift of his, left on the altar after the morning mass, which always began our day, or given quietly after the evensong which ended it. One might know his road now by the words of the people, who will say with more than pride that once Ethelbert crossed the threshold of their church and gave this or that gift. I have seen richer gifts given, and heard more words said; but what he gave seemed always that which was wanted, and the word he spoke was always the best that could have been. And I have wondered at the mighty churches which Carl the Great had reared and was still rearing, but in some wise it seemed to me that the way of Ethelbert was of more worth.

Now, seeing that we had started with our minds full of portents, it is not by any means wonderful that we found more on the road. For a time, if a horse did but cast a shoe, the thane it belonged to shook his head and wished that naught ill might come of the little delay. And once, when we stumbled into a fog among the river country of the midlands, where one would expect to meet with it, there was nigh a panic in the company, so that the thanes crowded round Ethelbert and begged him to return. Whereon he laughed at them gaily.

"Thanes, thanes!" he cried, "one can no more see to return than to go forward! I might take it as a warning not to go back, just as well. Did none of you ever see a fog before? Had it fallen on you while hunting, you would have done naught but grumble and wait its lifting."

But they were terrified, as it seemed, beyond reason; and, indeed, it was as thick as any Friesland fog I have ever seen, and it grew blacker for an hour or so, while we had perforce to wait under dripping trees till we could see to go on. Even a horse will lose his way home in such a fog as that.

And at last they begged the king to pray that it might clear from off us, and so he knelt and did so. It was strange to hear his clear voice rising from the midst of half-seen men and steaming horses, praying for the light. And then the fog lifted as suddenly as it had come, and the sun shone out.

"See," he said, "our fears are like this mist, and cloud our senses. Surely the fears shall pass likewise from the heart of him who prays. So read I the token, if token it be."

All that day thereafter we rode in brightest sunshine, and men were fairly ashamed to say more of ill-luck and the like. And so also in lovely weather we went for the fourteen days of our journey, until we came to the place where we should cross the Severn at Worcester, and but a day's long ride was before us.

After that time of the mist Ethelbert noticed Erling, and would call him and speak long with him of the ways of his home, as I thought.

At Worcester we waited while a message went from the town to Offa, and next day there came to meet us some score of the best thanes of the Welsh borderland, who should be our guides to the end of the journey. Hard warriors and scarred with tokens of the long wars they were, but pleasant and straightforward in their ways, as warriors should be. Only I did not altogether like the smooth way of the man who was their leader. His name was Gymbert, and he was of mixed Welsh and English blood, as I was told, and he was also high in honour with Offa, and with Quendritha herself; which in itself spoke well for him, but nevertheless in some way I cared not for him.

They feasted us that night in Worcester, and early next morning we rode out westward again on the last stage of our journey, the king leading us with this thane at his side, followed by the rest of the Mercians and his own thanes. So I, not altogether unwillingly, rode with Hilda in the rear of the party, feeling somewhat downcast to think that this was the last time I was at all likely to be her companion.

I suppose that there is not a more wonderful outlook in all England than from the Malvern heights, save only that from our own Quantocks, in the west. I hold that the more wonderful, for there one has the sea, and across it the mountains of Wales, which one misses here, while it were hard to say whence the eye can range the furthest.

I told Hilda so as we reined up the horses for a moment at the top of the steep to breathe them, and she sighed, with all the wonder before her. We of the hill countries do not know all the pleasure that comes into the heart of one from the level east counties, as he looks for the first time from a height over the lands spread out below. I had been long enough in Friesland now to learn some of that wonder for myself anew.

"Well," she said, "you will be back again at home in your hills shortly, and all this ride will be forgotten. Where does your home lie? Can it be seen?"

I pointed south or thereabout. I could almost fancy that I should be able to see the far blue line of the Mendips under the sun, so bright it all was and clear.

Then she asked if my folk knew that I was on my way home.

"No; else I had ridden straightway from Thetford to them. They think that I am yet with the Franks across the sea, and a few days can make no difference to them. Nor could I be so churlish as to refuse the king's offer of help on my way."

"I wonder how you will find all when you get back?"

"And so do I. There were merchants from Bristol who brought me a message that all was well with them six months ago, and by the same hands I sent back word that so it was with me. Possibly that message has reached them about this time."

That was the third time I had heard from home during these years, and I was lucky to have heard at all. It seems that my father had bidden friends of ours at the ports to let him hear of men from across the seas who were to go to the court of Carl.

"Ah," she said, "I hope so. That would be more than joy to your mother. And then for you to follow so quickly on the message! that will be wonderful. I would that I could see that meeting."

She turned and laughed in the pleasure of the thought, and I suppose there was that in my eyes which told her that I had the same wish. Maybe I should have said so, but she flushed a little, and gave me no time.

"But I shall be on the way back to East Anglia with the princess, and I will picture it all. Some day, when you come back to see the king, as you say he has asked you, I shall hear of it."

Now it was in my mind that it was possible that I might be back in Thetford, or wherever Ethelbert's court might be at the time, sooner than I had any wish. For if aught had happened amiss at home, so that our lands, for want of the heir, had fallen into the hands of Bertric, I should be left with naught but my sword for heritage. Then--for the king had spoken of these chances to me--I was to come straightway back to him and take service with him. My knowledge of the ways in which Carl handled his men would be of use to him, and a place and honour would wait me. But I would not think much of such sorrow for me, though that it was possible, of course, may have been the great reason which made me silent when there were words I had more than once had it on the tip of my tongue to say to Hilda. Could I have known for certain that home and wealth yet waited for me, I know that I must needs have asked her to share them, now that at the end of this daily companionship I learned what my thoughts of her had grown to be.

"Ay, I shall be back with Ethelbert at some time," I said. "I do not forget promises."

After that we rode down the long hill silently enough, and the way did not seem so bright to me. And so through the long day we rode, stopping for an hour or two at the strong oaken hall, moated and stockaded, of some great border thane for the midday meal. There were the marks of fire on roof and walls; for once the wild Welsh had tried to burn it, and failed, in a sudden raid before Offa had curbed them with the mighty earthwork that runs from Dee to Severn to keep the border of his realm. "Offa's Dyke" men call it, and so it will be called to the end of time.

And now we were on the way of the war host from west to east, the way of the Welshmen, and making toward the ford of the Wye, which they were wont to cross, so that we call it the "ford of the host," the "Hereford."

It was late when we came into the little town of Fernlea, which stands on the gentle rise above the ford, for the five-and-twenty miles or so of this day's work had been heavy across the hills. The great stronghold palace whither we were bound lay some miles northward, and it seemed right that we waited here till the next day, that into it we might pass with all travel stains done away with and in full state.

Already there had been a royal camp pitched for us by Offa's folk, and I was glad that we had not to bide in the town. One could not wish for better weather for the open, and the lines of gay tents, with the pavilion for the king in their midst, seemed homely and pleasant to me with memory of the days which seemed so long ago when the camp of Carl was my only home.

As soon as we reached this camp under the hill, where the town stockading rose strong and high against the Welsh, the thane I have already mentioned, Gymbert, arranged our lodging, he being the king's marshal in charge of us, and also warden of the palace. He was a huge man, burly and strong, somewhat too smooth spoken, as I thought, but pleasant withal. He gave me a tent to myself, somewhat apart from the king's pavilion, as a Frankish stranger, I suppose.

"Your thralls will bide with the rest," he said; "they can find shelter in the tents there are yonder. If some of them have to bide outside, it will not hurt them."

"Well enough you ken that, Gymbert," said Erling curtly, in good Welsh.

I understood him, of course, for we had Welsh thralls enough at home, but I wondered that he knew the tongue. Gymbert understood him also, for his face flushed red and he bit his lip. But he pretended not to do so.

"Your Frankish tongue is a strange one," he said. "What does the man want?"

"I think that he means that outside the tent is as pleasant as in, as you hint," I said. "But he will bide here across my door, as is his wont."

"Outside, I suppose?" said Gymbert, with a laugh. "Well, as you like."

He rode away, and I looked at Erling wonderingly. The Dane was watching him with a black scowl on his face.

"Where on earth did you learn the British tongue?" I said; "and what know you of Gymbert?"

"I learned the Welsh yonder," Erling answered, nodding westward. "I lived in the little town men call Tenby for three years. There also I heard of this man. He was a thrall himself once, and freed by this queen for some service or another. He is a well-hated man, both by Saxon and Welsh, being of both races, and therefore of neither, as one may say."

"He seems to be trusted by the king, though!"

Erling shrugged his shoulders. "He has fought well for him, and is rewarded. Were there aught to be had by betraying Offa, he would betray him. Take a bad Saxon and a false Welshman, and that is saying much, and weld them into one, and you have Gymbert."

"This is hearsay from the Welsh he has fought," said I; "one need not heed it."

"I suppose not," quoth Erling; "but I never heard aught else of him. And he has the face of a traitor."

With that he turned to his horses and began loosening the pack from that one which bore it. There was no more to be got out of him, as I knew, and so, leaving him to set the tent in order, I went my way toward the river, being minded for a good swim therein after the long, dusty way. And turning over what Erling had said of himself, I remembered that Thorleif had told me how he had come from Wales round the Land's End to Weymouth. I thought rightly that he had picked up Erling there.

I had a good hour's swim in a deep pool of the river, and enjoyed it to the full. The current was swift, and it was good to battle with it, and then to turn and swing downward past the fern-covered banks and under the shade of the trees with its flow. And while I was splashing in the pool, a franklin came running from his field with his hoe, waving wildly to me.

"Come out, master, I pray you!" he gasped; "the water is full forty feet deep there!"

"Is that so?" I said gravely. "I will go and see."

With that I dived, and stayed under as long as I could, not being able to find the bottom after all.

And when I came up again the honest face of the franklin was white and his eyes stared in terror. So I laughed at him.

"I believe the pool is as deep as you say; but would seven feet of water be any safer?"

"Nay, master, but it would drown me. Yet come out, I do pray you. It gives me the cold terror to see you so overbold."

Then came Father Selred along the bank, and the man begged him to bid me leave the water; and so we both laughed at him, until the franklin waxed cross and went his way, saying that I was a fool for not biding in the shoal water up yonder by the great tree. I could walk across there waist deep, he said, grumbling.

Then I came out, and the father told me that the king would be here anon. We walked to and fro waiting for him, and presently he came with Hilda's father, Sighard, in attendance. The four of us sat down on the river bank, under the great tree of which the franklin had spoken, and watched the trout in the shallows till Ethelbert lay back with his arms under his head, and said that he was tired with the ride and would sleep.

He closed his eyes, and we went on talking in low voices for an hour or so while he slept. And then the horns rang from the distant camp to tell us that the evening meal was spread in the great pavilion. But the king did not hear them, and I looked doubtfully at him, wondering if he should be waked.

"Wilfrid," said Father Selred in a whisper, "surely the king dreams wondrous things. His face is as the face of a saint!"

And so indeed it was as he lay there in the evening light, and I wondered at him. There was no smile around his mouth, but stillness and, as it seemed, an awe of what he saw, most peaceful, so that I almost feared to look on him. The horns went again, soft and mellow in the distance from across the evening meadows. The kine heard them, and thought them the homing call, and so lifted their lazy heads and waded homeward through the grass.

"Ethelbert, my king," said Sighard gently.

The eyes of the king opened, and he roused.

"Was that your voice, my thane," he asked, "or was it the voice of my dream?"

"I called you, lord, for the horns are sounding."

"Thanks; but I would I had dreamed more! I do not know if I should have learned what it all meant had I slept on."

"What was it, my son?" said Selred.

The king was silent for a little, musing.

"It was a good dream, I think," he said. "I will tell you, and you shall judge. You mind the little wooden church which stands here in Fernlea town? Well, in my dream I stood outside that, and it seemed small and mean for the house of God, so that I would that it were built afresh. Then it seemed to me that an angel came to me, bearing a wondrous vessel full of blood, and on the little church he sprinkled it; and straightway it began to grow and widen wondrously, and its walls became of stone instead of timber and wattle, and presently it stood before me as a mighty church, great as any of those of which Carl's paladin here tells me.

"Then I heard from within the sound of wonderful music and the singing of many people; and I went near to listen, for the like of that was never yet heard in our land. And when I was even at the door, from out the church came in many voices my own name, as if it were being mingled with praises--and so you woke me."

"It is a good dream," said Sighard bluntly. "It came from the wondering why Offa let so mean a church stand, and from the horns, and from my speaking your name. Strange how things like that will weave themselves into the mind of a sleeping man to make a wonder."

"It is a good dream," said Selred the priest, after a moment's thought. I doubt not that it was in your mind to give some gift to the church. Mayhap you shall ask Offa to restore it presently, for memory of your wedding; and thereafter men will pray there for you as the founder of its greatness."

"Yet the angel, and that he bore and sprinkled?"

"It seems to me," I said, "that it was a vision of the Holy Grail; and happy would King Arthur or our Wessex Ina have held you that you saw it, King Ethelbert."

"Ay," he said, "if I might think that it was so!"

Again the horns rang, and he leaped up.

"We must not keep them waiting," he cried. "Come!"

"More dreams," grumbled Sighard the old thane to me as the king went on before us with the chaplain. "On my word, we have been dream-ridden like a parcel of old women on this journey, till we shall fear our own shadows next. There is Hilda as silent as a mouse today, and I suppose she has been seeing more portents. I mind that a black cat did look at us out of a doorway this morning."

So he growled, scoffing, and I must say that I was more than half minded to agree with him. Only the earthquake did seem more than an everyday token.

"I suppose that the earthquake which we felt was sent for somewhat?" I said.

"Why, of course; such like always are. But seeing that it was felt everywhere we have ridden, even so far as Northampton, and likely enough further on yet, I don't see why we should take it as meant for the king."

Then he began to laugh to himself.

"When one comes to think thereof," he chuckled, "there must have been scores of men who felt it just as they were starting somewhere; and I warrant every one of them took it to himself, and put off his business! Well, well, I can tell what it did portend, however, for Ethelbert, and that is a mighty change in his household so soon as he gets his new wife home. Earthquake, forsooth! Mayhap he will wish he had hearkened to its message when she turns his house upside down."

"Nay," I said, smiling; "one has not heard that of the princess."

"She is Quendritha's daughter," he said grimly, and growing grave of a sudden. "That is the one thing against this wedding, to my mind. If she is like her mother, or indeed like her sister Eadburga, who wedded your king, there is an end for peace to Ethelbert, and maybe to East Anglia."

Now I had heard little or nothing of how that last match turned out; I only knew that when I was taken from home we were full of rejoicing over it. So I heard now for the first time that over all the land of Wessex were whispers of ill done by our new queen--of men who crossed her in aught dying suddenly, or going home to linger awhile and come to a painful end. I heard that she bore rule rather than the king, and that her sway was heavy, and so on in many counts against her. The tales were the same as those I had heard often of late about her mother, Quendritha, and with all my heart I hoped that the Princess Etheldrida was not as those two. I had heard naught but good of her, at all events, and I will say now that all I had heard was true. There could be no sweeter maiden in all the land than she. I heard the same good words of her only brother, Ecgfrith, and I suppose that those two bore more likeness to their mighty father than to the queen.

All this half-stifled talk of untold ill from Quendritha lay heavy on my mind; and it came to me that Sighard was a true man, and that to him I might tell the tale Thrond told me. I must share that secret with some one who might, if he deemed it wise, warn King Ethelbert in such sort that he should beware of her, now and hereafter. So after a little while I said:

"Thane, I have heard that Quendritha came ashore--"

"Ay," he said sharply, looking round him. "But that is a tale which is best let alone. It is true enough. My wife's folk took her in at Lincoln."

"Is it known whence she came?" I went on, paying no heed to a warning sign he made; for we were far from the camp yet, and the king was a hundred yards ahead of us.

"Let be, Wilfrid; hold your peace on that. There are men who have asked that question in all simplicity, and they have gone."

"Why, is there aught amiss in coming ashore as she did?"

"Hold your peace, I tell you. On my word, it is as well, though, that you have had it out with me here in the meadows. Listen: there is no harm in the drifting hither. What sent her adrift?"

"I have sailed for a month with Danes," I said. "I have met with a man who once set a girl adrift."

As I said that I looked him meaningly in the face, and he grew pale.

"So," he said slowly, "you have heard that tale also. There was a Danish chapman who came to our haven at Mundesley, where I live, and told it there to me. That was a year after the boat was found. I bade him be silent, but there was no need. When he heard that the girl had become what she is, he fled the land. And, mind you, he could not be certain, nor can I."

"Nor could the man who told me. But my Dane is the nephew of that man."

Sighard grasped my arm.

"Speak to him, and bid him hold his tongue if he has heard the tale, else he and you are dead men. Get to him at once."

I thought, indeed, that there was need to do so, though Erling was in nowise talkative. For if, as was pretty certain, the tale of the coming of Quendritha went round the groups of men at the camp fires, he might say that he had heard of one set adrift from his own land.

So instead of going in at once with the king to the pavilion, I ran down to the lines where the horses were picketed, and found Erling on his way to the supper, which was spread under some trees for our servants. I took him aside and walked out into the open with him.

"Erling," I said, "do you mind that tale which Thrond tells concerning a damsel set afloat?"

"Ay, more than mind it--I saw it done! She went from our village. I was a well-grown lad of fourteen then. Now I know what you would say. It is the word of Thrond that this Quendritha, whom men fear so, is she. He says so, since you spoke to him."

"Have you breathed a word thereof to any one?" I asked, with a sort of cold fear coming on me.

I had no mind to die of poison.

"Not likely; here of all places. I mind what that maiden was in the old days. From all accounts she has but held herself back somewhat here. But had you had aught to do with her, I should have warned you, master."

I set my hand on his shoulder.

"I know you would. Now you will see the queen tomorrow. Tell me, then, if this is indeed she."

"Ay, I shall know her well enough. What I fear is that she may know me!"

Grim as his voice was, that made me laugh.

"Seeing that you were but a lad when she last set eyes on you--and now you are ten years older than myself, bearded and scarred moreover--I do not fear that for you in the least."

"Nor will she have need to scan me," he said. "Of course I need not fear it."

Then I asked him if he had more of the second sight.

"Naught fresh, master. Only that look on the face of the young king deepens, and ever there is the red line round his neck. I fear for him."

So did I, but of that we spoke no more. I tried all I knew to fathom that fear of mine, and the most I could do was to make it seem more and more needless and foolish. And presently, when we sat at the table, and I saw the king speaking with the Mercians, and noted their admiring looks at him, and their eagerness to listen to him, I thought that Sighard was right, and that I was frayed with shadows of my own making. I knew enough of men by this time to see that here was no thought of ill toward Ethelbert.