CHAPTER XXII

HOW THEY FELL AMONG FOES

So they stayed there on the hillside for a week and then arose and went forward, but with heavy hearts and weary feet, leaving behind them Torfrida’s palfrey, which had died for very weariness; and the two wept as they went forth once more across the wilderness. At length they drew near to a broad burn which they crossed, and, faring on, soon beheld a town to the left of them and knew not in what country they were, but feared they had come too far to the east and had entered Northumbria. They pressed on till they drew nigh to the town and anon met men coming forth of it, but these stared aghast at sight of them and fled, so wild were their looks and so lean and haggard their faces. At length they came to a herdsman’s shieling high up on the hills, and Torfrida went in and found the herd with his wife sitting by the ingle. When the wife beheld her she let forth a scream; then said Torfrida, “Nay, good people, have no fear, for I am a woman of thine own country and an hungered, yet gold have we to pay thee for such shelter as thou canst give.”

“The lady is beautiful and looks good—she is welcome to all we have.”

“Nay, but I ask the boon also for my lover who is without, but so great of stature is he and so wild are his looks from much travail that we twain have come through, that methought he might fear thee.”

“Yea let him enter also.”

Then Feargus entered and sat him down, and the people were Northumbrians, and when the good wife saw him she said, “Now thou art a man indeed!” So they fared well in that house for three weeks, and Feargus waxed strong again, as did Torfrida, and light of heart, for it seemed as though their troubles were ended, since here they did not know him for Feargus. At length they minded them of their journey, and Feargus brought forth his beast that looked well and stout as of old, and rejoiced his master’s heart. Their host then found a good beast for Torfrida, and they rode out and sought to escape the town, but they had hardly won clear of it ere a party of soldiers met them and hailed Feargus and questioned him and, judging him to be a foreigner, took him before the king, who knew him for Feargus. Then were they cast each into a dungeon, while a messenger was sent to king Sigmund and Osbert, the king’s friends, telling of their capture. Now none had seen that under his rags Feargus wore a byrny, and his jailors, being half afraid of him owing to the tales of his strength and fierceness, which were common among the Northumbrian soldiery, had left him his sword and bow. They lay in the prison for a week, and the dungeon of Feargus was such that he could not hold himself upright therein, and the walls were dank with water. He looked about for means of escape, and soon knew by slight sounds that there was a person in the cell next him and so he knocked on the wall, thinking it might be Torfrida, and at once heard an answering knock. Then, his heart beating fast for gladness, he set about digging at the wall with his sword, and dug with great labour all the night, and by morning had wrought so well that one of the stones was loosened and he lifted it out and they spoke together. Then said she, “See how the Northumbrians treat a king’s daughter,” and he saw that there were chains about her, but dreading that he might brain him, the jailor had left the manacling of his male prisoner until such times as he might be weak from lack of food.

Feargus worked for two nights and days until he had removed another stone, and could creep through the opening. He then set to work to cut away the stone which held the bolt in the door of Torfrida’s cell, taking the stones of the wall by which he entered in and out each day, and returning to his own cell at the hour at which the jailor brought his prisoners’ food, for he came first to Torfrida’s cell. Then he told Torfrida to hold herself in readiness, and at length one night lay down before the door of his dungeon, so that when the man came in he fell over him, and Feargus sprang upon him and stunned him, then tearing his jerkin into shreds, twisted them into a rope and bound him with it that he might not rouse the men who stood on guard. He then bade Torfrida to follow, and forth they sped in the cool night wind towards the water, and no man stopped them. So they won the sea and walked along the coast towards where the shipping lay. There they found many small boats lying, and entered into one of them, and, fearing to linger, put out to sea. In her they found water and a little meat, but she was open to the seas. They rowed till they were out of sight of land and then turned northwards by the stars. They kept out at sea so that in the day they could just make out the distant shore.

On the second day the wind blew cold and Torfrida was sore distressed, and in the night it arose to a tempest and they were tossed about for many hours, the boat flying before the wind so that they had no mastery over her. When the day dawned they found that they had been driven out to sea and had lost sight of the coast, and they were mightily afraid thereat. At length on the fourth day the sea grew calm and the wind fell. Then Feargus took to his oars, but no sight of land could he get, and he steered him as he best might. They had little meat to eat the while, or water to drink, for their store had been but scant at the beginning. He rowed ever on till weariness fell upon him, and still he rowed, and daily saw Torfrida dwining before his eyes. His heart smote him, for was it not by his own doing that so great trouble had fallen upon her? Soon they had neither bite nor sup left, and the cold winds cut them to the quick. Then Feargus thought that Torfrida was like to die, for she fainted, and lay for long as one in death. There came to him the thought of slaying himself; he waited long but at last she awoke, and he drew his sword and cut his arm and poured the blood down her throat till she revived. Then he bound up his arm that she might not know wherewith he had fed her. Once more he took the oars, though full faint himself, and sped on, but hope was dead in him and he listed not whither he went. And all through the night the cold stars look down upon the little boat bearing the gaunt man, who seemed like to one in a dream, who nor feeling nor sense hath of earthly things, yet ever plyeth his oars monotonously. His eyes were glassy, and fixed ever on the white-faced woman who lay at his feet with the marks of death already upon her. And neither he nor she spake, nor had done for many days. As the night wore through the big man ceased to move to and fro, and drawing with a last effort his oars from the water, fell backward into the bottom of the boat. So, until the sun was high in the lift. Then he started up but knew not where he was nor what thing had befallen him, but only saw that not a bowshot from him was a line of grey cliff, mist-haunted, bird-inhabited, and washed by mighty waters whose thunder echoed continually along the crags. Then did he know himself and staggered up and shouted, “Land, land!” And dimly through the mist of her half-consciousness Torfrida knew that they were saved.

Then Feargus roused him and drew forth the oars and steered their way among the rocks and green waters now still and sleepful that had been so fierce. Here they had made a small bay, there a creek; into one of these he steered the boat up against the rocks, whence he saw the birds fly forth, and at length in a cranny he saw some eggs lying. These he seized and broke and poured between the lips of Torfrida and then of himself. In the creek he found a ledge of rock above high water, and rowed his boat to it and fastened her and there lay down and slept for an hour. Then he arose and, being too weak to use his bow, found more eggs and fed Torfrida with them. Then he landed by scrambling on to the shelf of rock, and, seeking about, found pools of rain water and drank and gave likewise to Torfrida. The next day found him refreshed so that he was able to lift her on to the shelf and himself rowed out a little way in search of eggs, which he found among the crags in great plenty. So they stayed there many days, living in a cave and wandering among the rocks like the sea birds themselves, their daily food the eggs of the seamew and cormorant. And the place was always dark, lying like a watery ravine between the crags, so that the sun never shone there; but their hearts lay deep too between the sorrows that encompassed them and they missed him not. At length their strength was renewed, but they were still fearful of going forth once more on a journey so terrible. And when they left their watery home they sighed, for days of peace had they known there, who had forgotten what peace was; and the cry of the seamew, the floating mists, and the boom of breaking waters had become dear to them, while the very birds knew them and feared them not.

And so, at length, they stepped into their boat and rowed through the creek out into the sunlight, and the sight of it gladdened them. They kept along the cliffs that day and in the evening ran up one of the narrow creeks and waited till the morn. After many miles the cliffs ceased and an open coast took their place, then Feargus thought to land and find out what country they were in; so they made the shore, and right glad was Feargus to find they were in the land of Lothian, not knowing they had won so far north. In those days the Kelts of the Lothians were groaning under the rule of the Northumbrians, whose language they came afterwards to speak, though they still kept their nationality and their patriotism, even if they grew in some measure away from their Gaelic kindred of the north and west. So at length after sailing up a broad river, wanting food and water, they saw a great town lying low down towards the water’s edge, and Feargus landed, and they approached the town, which they found to be the ancient Roman city of Camelon on Forth, that stood hard by the Roman wall. After walking some way they were noticed by the people and surrounded by a band of warriors of the chief who was set over Lothian and called himself king. They were hurried through splendid gates of brass to the town, the people coming out of their houses to look at them, and were brought before the king, who was a Northumbrian and had much wealth and many foreign warriors in his pay. Now his thane had bethought him that the sight of folk so rude as looked these twain would pleasure his master. The king, who had an eye for fighting men, saw in Feargus the shape of a warrior, and knew by the way he strode and held himself that he was a practised and strong man of his hands, and was well pleased to have such brought to him, thinking to win him to his service. If the master knew a warrior though ill clad, his men did not, but thought him little better than a savage or a slave. Feargus knew well by their tongue that they were English and ruling a people who were near kin to his own and he was wroth to see it, and being full of strength from his life on the cliffs, and seeing Torfrida’s face smooth and shining with health, he was little in the humour to brook insult offered. So it chanced as the king stood questioning him that one of his nobles turned to Torfrida and laid rough hands upon her, saying, “Come hither, lad, let me see thee; thou lookest like a wench,” and so drew aside the ragged covering which hid her face. When the people saw her beauty they were amazed thereat, but not long gazed the earl upon her, for his hand was hardly off her snood ere Feargus, seizing his sword, clove him through the helm, nigh killing him, and crying in English, “Manners, thou dog!”

The earl’s men turned to flee for very horror of the thing they saw, till their captain rallied them, and, crying out for vengeance, rushed upon Feargus. Then the king, who was just and dearly loved a bold act, was mightily taken with his new soldier, and he roared in a voice of thunder, “Stand; let no man stir, I will deal.” Turning to Feargus, he said, “Now, beggar or warrior, for such I see thou art, what sayest thou for thyself? Thou hast nigh slain an earl of my court.”

“That were a mishap indeed, sir king; but I hold that when I struck him his acts were such that no man, being a stranger, could tell him for an earl, for I have seen beggars and billmen with better manners; therefore am I not to blame more than if I had slain a worse beggar than myself.”

“Humph! thou art an outspoken beggar, in sooth, but I tell thee thou shalt go unharmed an thou wilt enter my bodyguard, for they lack a captain at this present, and I see thou art such a man of thy hands that I wot of none that could captain them like thee.”

Now Feargus saw that the bluff king was a man after his own heart, good humoured yet resolute and strong, and he knew well that his only chance was to enter his new friend’s service, so he said—

“I will do as thou dost wish, king, since thou hast so befriended us, and I will serve thee well and faithfully for so long as my lady and myself go unmolested,” and he put his two hands between those of the king as the English custom was.