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Wulfric the Weapon Thane: A Story of the Danish Conquest of East Anglia

by Charles W. Whistler · English · Gutenberg #13752 · 447,099 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Wulfric the Weapon Thane: A Story of the Danish Conquest of East Anglia

Author: Charles W. Whistler


        
Release date: October 14, 2004 [eBook #13752]
                Most recently updated: October 28, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13752

Credits: E-text prepared by Martin Robb


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WULFRIC THE WEAPON THANE: A STORY OF THE DANISH CONQUEST OF EAST ANGLIA ***

WULFRIC THE WEAPON THANE

A Story of the Danish Conquest of East Anglia

by

CHARLES W. WHISTLER







PREFACE.


A word may be needed with regard to the sources from which this
story of King Eadmund's armour bearer and weapon thane have been
drawn. For the actual presence of such a close attendant on the
king at his martyrdom on Nov. 20, 870 A.D. we have the authority of
St. Dunstan, who had the story from the lips of the witness
himself.

But as to the actual progress of events before the death of the
king, the records are vague and imperfect. We are told that, after
the defeat at Thetford, the king had intended to seek safety in the
church, probably at Framlingham, where the royal household was, but
was forced to hide, and from his hiding place was dragged before
Ingvar the Danish leader, and so slain.

The two local legends of the "king's oak" in Hoxne woods, and of
the "gold bridge", may fill in what is required to complete the
story.

The former, identifying a certain aged oak as that to which the
king was bound, has been in a measure corroborated by the discovery
in 1848 of what may well have been a rough arrow point in its
fallen trunk; while the fact that, until the erection of the new
bridge at Hoxne in 1823, no newly-married couple would cross the
"gold bridge" on the way to church, for the reasons given in the
story, seems to show that the king's hiding place may indeed have
been beneath it as the legend states. If so, the flight from
Thetford must have been most precipitate, and closely followed.

There are two versions of the story of Lodbrok the Dane and Beorn
the falconer. That which is given here is from Roger of Wendover.
But in both versions the treachery of one Beorn is alleged to have
been the cause of the descent of Ingvar and Hubba on East Anglia.

These chiefs and their brother Halfden, and Guthrum, are of course
historic. Their campaign in England is hard to trace through the
many conflicting chronicles, but the broad outlines given by the
almost contemporary Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, supplemented with a few
incidents recorded in the Heimskringla of Sturleson as to the first
raid on Northumbria by Ingvar, are sufficient for the purposes of a
story that deals almost entirely with East Anglia.

The legend of the finding of the head of the martyred king is given
in the homily for November 20 of the Anglo-Saxon Sarum Breviary,
and is therefore of early date. It may have arisen from some such
incident as is given here.

Details of the death of Bishop Humbert are wanting. We only know
that he was martyred at about the same time as the king, or perhaps
with him, and that his name is remembered in the ancient kalendars
on the same day. For describing his end as at his own chapel, still
standing at South Elmham, the fate of many a devoted priest of
those times might be sufficient warrant.

As to the geography of the East Anglian coast, all has changed
since King Eadmund's days, with the steady gaining of alluvial land
on sea at the mouth of the once great rivers of Yare and Waveney.
Reedham and Borough were in his time the two promontories that
guarded the estuary, and where Yarmouth now stands were sands,
growing indeed slowly, but hardly yet an island even at "low-water
springs". Above Beccles perhaps the course of the Waveney towards
Thetford has altered little in any respect beyond the draining of
the rich marshland along its banks, and the shrinking of such
tributaries as the Hoxne or Elmham streams to half-dry rivulets.

With a few incidental exceptions, the modern spelling of place
names has been adopted in these pages. No useful purpose would be
served by a reproduction of what are now more or less uncouth if
recognizable forms of the well-known titles of town and village and
river.

C. W. W.




CHAPTER I. HOW LODBROK THE DANE CAME TO REEDHAM.


Elfric, my father, and I stood on our little watch tower at
Reedham, and looked out over the wide sea mouth of Yare and
Waveney, to the old gray walls of the Roman Burgh on the further
shore, and the white gulls cried round us, and the water sparkled
in the fresh sea breeze from the north and east, and the bright
May-time sun shone warmly on us, and our hearts went out to the sea
and its freedom, so that my father said:

"Once again is the spirit of Hengist stirring in me, and needs must
that you and I take ship, and go on the swan's path even as our
forefathers went; let us take the good ship somewhere--anywhere to
be on the sea again. What say you, son Wulfric?"

And at that I was very glad, for I had longed for that word of his.
For never, since I could remember, was a time when I knew not all
that a boy might learn, for his years, of sea and the seaman's
craft; and the sea drew me, calling me as it were with its many
voices, even as it drew my father.

Yet, all unlike Hengist and his men, we sailed but for peaceful
gain, and very rich grew Elfric, the thane of Reedham; for ours was
the only ship owned by English folk on all our East Anglian shores,
and she brought us wealth year by year, as we sailed to Humber and
Wash northwards, and Orwell and Thames to the south, as seemed best
for what merchandise we had for sale or would buy. But, more than
all, my father and I alike sailed for the love of ship and sea,
caring little for the gain that came, so long as the salt spray was
over us, and we might hear the hum of the wind in the canvas, or
the steady roll and click of the long oars in the ship's rowlocks,
and take our chance of long fights with wind and wave on our stormy
North Sea coasts.

So we went down to the shipyard, under the lee of Reedham Hill, and
found old Kenulf our pilot, and with him went round our stout
Frisian ship that my father had bought long ago, and at once bade
him get ready for sailing as soon as might be. And that was a
welcome order to Kenulf and our crew also; for well do the North
Folk of East Anglia love the sea, if our Saxon kin of the other
kingdoms have forgotten for a while the ways of their forbears.

Not so welcome was our sailing to my mother, who must sit at home
listening to the song of the breezes and the roll of breakers, with
her heart stirred to fear for us at every shift of wind and change
of tide. And fair Eadgyth, my sister, beautiful with the clear
beauty of a fair-haired Saxon lady, shared in her fears also,
though I think that she believed that no storm could rage more
fiercely than her father and brother and their crew could ride
through in safety. Once she had sailed with us in high summer time
to London, and so she held that she knew well all the ways of the
ship and sea; fearing them a little, maybe.

Yet there was another dread in the heart of my mother, for this is
what she said:

"What of the Danes, Elfric, my husband? Surely there is risk--aye,
and great risk--of falling into their hands."

Thereat my father laughed easily, and answered:

"Not to an East Anglian ship now; for they have kept the pact we
have made with them. And they watch not our shores for ships, but
the long Frisian and Frankish coasts. There need be no fear of
them."

So my mother was reassured, and in a fortnight's time we had
gathered a mixed cargo, though no great one; and sailed, with a
shift of wind to the southwest, into the Wash, and so put into the
king's haven on its southern shore, where we would leave our goods
with a merchant whom we knew.

On the second day after we came the wind shifted to the eastward,
and then suddenly to the northeast, and blew a gale, so that we
bided in the haven till it was over. For though it was not so heavy
that we could not have won through it in open water with little
harm, it was of no use risking ship and men on a lee shore for
naught.

Our friend, the merchant, kept us with him gladly, and there we
heard the last news of the Danish host, with whom we had made peace
two years since; for nowadays that news had become of the first
interest to every man in all England; though not yet in the right
way. For we had not yet learnt that England must be truly one; and
so long as he himself was unharmed, little cared an East Anglian
what befell Mercian or Northumbrian, even as Wessex or Sussex cared
for naught but themselves. Wherefore, all we longed to know was
that the Danish host was not about to fall on us, being employed
elsewhere.

We had found gain rather than hurt by their coming, for we had, as
I say, made peace with them, and, moreover, sold them horses. Then
they had honestly left our coasts, and had gone to York, and
thereafter to Nottingham. Now Northumbria was theirs, and Mercia
was at their feet. And now again we learnt that they bided in peace
at York, and we were content.

Three days it blew, and then the gale was spent; though the sea
still ran high and swift. So we bade farewell to our friend the
merchant and set sail, and if the passage homewards was rough, it
was swifter than we had hoped.

So it came to pass that we reached the wide inlet of our haven at
the Yare's mouth too soon for the tide to take us in over the sands
which grow and shift every year, and must needs drop anchor in the
roads and wait, with home in sight, hill and church and houses
clear and sharp against the afternoon sky after rain; while past us
the long surges the storm had raised raced in over half-hidden
sands, and broke in snow-white foam along the foot of the sand
dunes of the shore, sending the spindrift flying up and inland over
their low crests.

Mostly the boats would have been out to meet us, and maybe to tow
us in, sparing our crew a little; but today no boat might come, for
the seas were too heavy over the bar, so that it would have been
death to any man foolish enough to try to reach us; and we looked
for none. So as the stout ship wallowed and plunged at her
anchors--head to wind and sea, and everything, from groaning
timbers to song of wind-curved rigging and creak of swinging yard,
seeming to find a voice in answer to the plunge and wash of the
waves, and swirl and patter of flying spray over the high bows--we
found what shelter we might under bulwarks and break of fore deck,
and waited.

My father and I sat on the steersman's bench aft, not heeding the
showers of spray that reached us now and then even there, and we
watched the tide rising over the sand banks, and longed for home
and warm fireside, instead of this cold, gray sky and the restless
waves; though I, at least, was half sorry that the short voyage was
over, dreaming of the next and whither we might turn our ship's
bows again before the summer ended.

My father looked now and then shoreward, and now seaward, judging
wind and tide, and sitting patiently with the wondrous patience of
the seaman, learnt in years of tide and calm; for he would tell me
that sea learning never ends, so that though the sailor seemed to
be idle, he must needs be studying some new turn of his craft if
only his eyes were noting how things went around him. Yet I thought
he was silent beyond his wont.

Presently he rose up and paced the deck for a little, and then came
and sat down by me again.

"I am restless, son Wulfric," he said, laughing softly; "and I know
not why."

"For the sake of supper," I answered, "for I am that also, and tide
seems mighty slow therefore."

"Nay, supper comes to the patient; but it seems to me that I have
to watch for somewhat."

"Surely for naught but the tide," I answered, not thinking much of
the matter, but yet wondering a little.

"Not for tide or wind, but for somewhat new, rather--somewhat of
which I have a fear.

"But this is foolishness," he said, laughing again at himself, for
few men thought less of signs and forewarnings than he.

Then he looked out again to windward, under his hand, and all of a
sudden turned sharply to me, pointing and saying:

"But, as I live, hither comes something from the open sea!"

I rose up and looked to where he showed me, and as the ship rose to
a great wave, far off I saw a dark speck among white-crested
rollers, that rose and fell, and came ever nearer, more swiftly
than wreckage should.

Now some of the men who clustered under the shelter of the fore
deck, with their eyes ever on us, rose up from their places and
began to look out seaward over the bows through the spray to find
out what we watched, and ere long one man called to his mates:

"Ho, comrades, here comes flotsam from the open sea!"

Slowly the men rose up one by one and looked, clustering round the
stem head, and a little talk went round as to what this might be.

"It is a bit of wreck," said one.

"Hardly, for the gale has not been wild enough to wreck a ship in
the open; 'tis maybe lumber washed from a deck," answered another.

"It is a whale--no more or less."

"Nay," said old Kenulf; "it behaves not as a whale, and it comes
too swiftly for wreckage."

"Would it were a dead whale. Then would be profit," said another
man again, and after that the men were silent for a long while,
having said all that could be guessed, and watched the speck that
drew nearer and nearer, bearing down on us.

At last my father, ever keen of sight, said to me:

"This thing is not at the mercy of wind and wave. Rather has it the
rise and fall of a boat well handled. Yet whence should one come in
this heavy sea, after three days' gale?"

Even as he spoke, old Kenulf growled, half to himself, that to his
thinking this was a boat coming, and handled, moreover, by men who
knew their trade. Thereat some of the men laughed; for it seemed a
thing impossible, both by reason of the stretch of wild sea that so
small a craft as this--if it were indeed a boat--must have crossed,
and because the sea was surely too heavy to let one live.

Yet in the end we saw that it was a boat, and that in her,
moreover, was but one man, whose skill in handling her was more
than ours, and greater than we could deem possible.

Whereupon some of us were afraid, seeing how wondrously the tiny
craft came through the swift seas, and a man called out, giving
voice to our fears:

"Surely yon man is a Finn and the wizard who has raised this storm
to drown us; now are we lost!"

And I--who had listened eagerly to all the wild stories of the
seamen, since first I was old enough to wander curiously over the
ships from overseas that put into our haven on their way up the
great rivers to Norwich, or Beccles, or other towns--knew that the
Finns have powers more than mortal (though how or whence I know
not) over wind and sea, often using their power to the hurt of
others, and so looked to see the lines of a great squall, drawn as
it were astern of the wizard's boat, whitening as it rushed upon us
to sink us in sight of home.

But old Kenulf cried out on the man, saying:

"Rather is it one of the holy saints, and maybe the blessed Peter
the fisherman himself," and he bared his gray head, crossing
himself, as he looked eagerly to catch sight of the glory of light
round the seafarer; and that rebuked my fears a little.

But squall or crown of light was there none. Only the brown waves,
foam crested, which we feared not, and the gray light of the
clouded sun that was nigh to setting.

My father heeded naught of this, but watched the boat, only
wondering at the marvellous skill of her steersman. And when the
boat was so near that it was likely that the eyes of the man were
on us, my father raised his arm in the seaman's silent greeting,
and I thought that the boatman returned the salute.

Now the course that the boat was holding when that signal passed
would have taken her wide of us by half a cable's length, but she
was yet so far distant that but a little change would bring her to
us. Some sort of sail she seemed to have, but it was very small and
like nothing I had ever seen, though it was enough to drive her
swiftly and to give her steering way before the wind. Until my
father signed to him the man seemed to have no wish to near our
ship, going on straight to what would be certain destruction amid
the great breakers on our largest sand bar, and that made the men
more sure that he was a wizard, and there were white faces enough
among them.

"Now," said my father to me, "doubtless this is what was put in my
mind when I felt I must watch. Had I not seen him, yon man would
have been surely lost; for I think he cannot see the breakers from
his boat," and again he signed to the boatman.

Then from the little craft rose a great, long-winged hawk that
cried and hovered over it for a little, as if loth to leave it; and
one man said, shrinking and pale, that it was the wizard's familiar
spirit. But the wind caught the bird's long wings and drove it from
the boat, and swiftly wheeling it must needs make for us, speeding
down the wind with widespread, still pinions.

Then cried aloud that same terrified man:

"It is a sending, and we are done for!" thinking that, as Finns
will, the wizard they deemed him had made his spells light on us in
this visible form. But my father held out his hand, whistling a
falconer's call, and the great bird flew to him, and perched on his
wrist, looking bravely at us with its bright eyes as though sure of
friendship.

"See!" said my father loudly; "this is a trained bird, and no evil
sending; here are the jesses yet on its feet."

And Kenulf and most of the men laughed, asking the superstitious
man if the ship sank deeper, or seas ran higher for its coming.

"Hold you the bird," said my father to me; "see! the boatman makes
for us."

I took the beautiful hawk gladly, for I had never seen its like
before, and loved nothing better when ashore than falconry, and as
I did so I saw that its master had changed the course of his boat
and was heading straight for us. Now, too, I could make out that
what we had thought a sail was but the floor boarding of the boat
reared up against a thwart, and that the man was managing her with
a long oar out astern.

The great hawk's sharp talons were like steel on my ungloved wrist,
piercing through the woollen sleeve of my jerkin, but I heeded them
not, so taken up was I with watching this man who steered so well
and boldly in so poorly fitted a craft. And the boat was, for all
that, most beautiful, and built on such lines as no Saxon boat had.
Well we know those wondrous lines now, for they were those of the
longships of the vikings.

Now the men forward began to growl as the boat came on to us, and
when my father, seeing that the man would seek safety with us, bade
those on the fore deck stand by with a line to heave to him as he
came, no man stirred, and they looked foolishly at one another.

Then my father called sharply to Kenulf by name, giving the same
order, and the old man answered back:

"Bethink you, Thane; it is ill saving a man from the sea to be foe
to you hereafter. Let him take his chance."

Thereat my father's brow grew dark, for he hated these evil old
sayings that come from heathen days, and he cried aloud:

"That is not the way of a Christian or a good seaman! Let me come
forward."

And in a moment he was on the fore deck, where the men made hasty
way for him. There the long lines were coiled, ready for throwing
to the shore folk on our wharf, both fore and aft. My father caught
up one at his feet and stood ready, for now the boat was close on
us, and I could see the white set face of her steersman as he
watched for the line he knew was coming, and wherein lay his only
slender hope of safety.

My father swung his arm and cast. Swift and true fled the coils
from his hand--but fell short by two fathoms or less, and the boat
swept past our bows, as the men held their breath, watching and
ashamed.

But I also had caught up the coil from the after deck, fearing lest
my father should not have been in time, while the hawk fluttered
and gripped my arm in such wise that at any other time I should
have cried out with the pain of the sharp piercing of its talons.
Yet it would not leave me.

The boat flew on, but the man had his eyes on me--not looking
vainly for the lost end of the first line among the foam as many
another man would--and I saw that he was ready.

I threw; and the hawk screamed and clutched, as it lost its
balance, and beat my face with its great wings, and I could not see
for its fluttering; but the men shouted, and I heard my father's
voice cry "Well done!" Then I made fast the end of the line round
the main-sheet cleat, for that told me that the man had caught on.

Then the bird was still, and I looked up. I saw the boat pass
astern as the man made fast the line round the fore thwart, with
his eyes on the wave that came. Then he sprang to the steering oar,
and in a moment the boat rounded to on the back of a great wave and
was safe before the crest of the next roller ran hissing past me,
to break harmless round her bows.

Then the man looked up, smiling to me, lifted his hand in greeting,
and then straightway laid in the steering oar. Having found a
bailing bowl in the stern sheets, he set to work to clear out the
water that washed about in the bottom of the boat; then he replaced
the floor boards, and all things being shipshape, sat down quickly
in the stern, putting his head into his hands, and there bided
without moving, as if worn out and fain to rest for a while.

Now it was like to be a hard matter to get the boat alongside in
that sea, and we must needs wait till the man took in hand to help,
so we watched him as he sat thus, wondering mostly at the boat, for
it was a marvel to all of us. Sharp were her bows and stern,
running up very high, and her high stem post was carved into the
likeness of a swan's neck and head, and the wings seemed to fall
away along the curve of the bows to the carved gunwale, that was as
if feathered, and at last the stern post rose and bent like a fan
of feathers to finish all. Carved, too, were rowlocks and the ends
of the thwarts, and all the feathered work was white and gold above
the black of the boat's hull. Carved, too, was the baling bowl, and
the loom of the oar was carved in curving lines from rowlock
leather to hand. And as I thought of the chances of our losing her
as we crossed the bar among the following breakers, I was grieved,
and would have asked my father to let us try to get her on deck if
we could.

But now the man roused, and put his hands to his mouth, hailing us
to ask if we would suffer him to come on board, and my father
hailed him back to bid him do so. Then it would seem that our men
were ashamed, having once disobeyed my father whom they loved, not
to finish the work that we had begun, and so, without waiting for
the order, saw to getting the boat up to our quarter, so that it
was but a minute or two before the man leapt on our deck, and the
boat was once more astern at the length of her line.

"Thanks, comrades," said the man; "out of Ran's {i} net have you
brought me, and ill fall me if I prove foe to you, as the old saw
bodes."

Now as one looked at this storm-beaten wanderer there was no doubt
but that he was surely a prince among men, and I for one marvelled
at his look and bearing after what he must have gone through.
Drenched and salt crusted were his once rich clothes, tangled and
uncared for were his hair and beard, and worn and tired he showed
both in face and body, yet his eyes were bright and his speech was
strong and free as he swung to the roll of the ship with the step
of a sea king. His speech told us that he was a Dane, for though we
of the East Angles had never, even before the coming of the great
host of which I must tell presently, such great difference of
tongue between our own and that of Dane and Frisian but that we
could well understand them and speak therein, yet time and distance
have given us a new way of handling our words, as one might say,
and a new turn to the tones of our voices. Often had I heard the
Danish way of speech on board the ships from over sea in our haven,
and had caught it up, as I was wont to try to catch somewhat of
every tongue that I heard.

So he and we looked at each other for a moment, we wondering at him
and he seeking our leader. Nor did he doubt long, taking two steps
to my father, holding out his hand, and again thanking him.

My father grasped the offered hand frankly, and, smiling a little,
said:

"Rather should you thank Wulfric, my son, here; for it was his line
that reached you."

"No fault that of yours," answered the Dane; and he turned to me
with the same hearty greeting.

"Now, friend Wulfric, I owe you my life, and therefore from this
time forward my life is for yours, if need be. Nor shall my men be
behind in that matter--that is if I ever see them again," he added,
looking quaintly at me, if gravely.

"Surely you shall do so," I said, "if it is in our power."

"I thank you--and it is well. I know coasts where a stranger would
be a slave from the moment his foot touched shore. Now tell me
whose ship this is that has given me shelter, and what your
father's name is, that I may thank you rightly."

"Elfric, the Thane of Reedham, is my father," I said, "Sheriff of
the East Anglian shore of the North Folk, under Eadmund, our king.
And this is his ship, and this himself to whom you have spoken."

"Then, Thane and Thane's son, I, whose life you have saved, am
Lodbrok, Jarl {ii} of a strip of Jutland coast. And now I have a
fear on me that I shall do dishonour to the name of Dane, for I
faint for want of food and can stand no more."

With that he sat down on the bench where I had been, and though he
smiled at us, we could see that his words were true enough, and
that he was bearing bravely what would have overborne most men. And
now the falcon fluttered from my wrist to his.

Then my father bade me hasten, and I brought ale and meat for the
jarl, and set them before him, and soon he was taking that which he
needed; but every now and then he gave to the bird, stroking her
ruffled feathers, and speaking softly to her.

"Aye, my beauty," he said once, "I did but cast you down wind lest
you should be lost with me. And I would have had you take back the
news that I was lost to my own home."

My father stood and watched the tide, and presently I joined him,
for I would not hinder the Dane from his meal by watching him. I
looked at the beautiful boat astern, tossing lightly on the wave
crests, and saw that she would surely be lost over the bar; so I
asked my father now, as I had meant before, if we might not try to
get her on board.

For answer he turned to Lodbrok.

"Set you much store by your boat, Jarl?" he asked him.

"The boat is yours, Thane, or Wulfric's, by all right of salvage.
But I would not have her lost, for my sons made her for me this
last winter, carving her, as you see, with their own hands. Gladly
would I see her safe if it might be."

"Then we will try to get her," answered my father; "for there are
one or two things that my children have made for me, and I would
not lose them for the sake of a little trouble. And, moreover, I
think your sons have made you the best boat that ever floated!"

"Else had I not been here!" answered the Dane. "They are good
shipwrights."

Then Kenulf and the men set to work, and it was no easy matter to
come by the boat; but it was done at last, and glad was I to see
her safely lashed on deck. Then the time had come, and we up anchor
and plunged homewards through the troubled seas of the wide harbour
mouth. It was I who steered, as I ever would of late, while the
Dane stood beside me, stroking his hawk and speaking to it now and
then. And once or twice he looked long and earnestly at the
breakers, knowing now from what he had escaped; and at last he said
to me:

"Many a man, I know, would have rather let me go on than have run
the risk of saving one from the sea. Do you dare go against the
saying?"

"Why not? I may not say that it came not into our minds," I
answered; "but Christian men will put such ill bodes aside."

"Ah! I had forgotten your new faith," said Lodbrok. "Now from this
time I, for one, have naught to say against it, for I think I owe
it somewhat."

And he was silent for a while.

Now my father came aft, and sitting down by the Dane, asked him how
he came to risk sailing in the little boat.

"I know not if you can believe me," answered Lodbrok, "but I will
tell you in a few words. I have been blown from off the Jutland
shore and have won through the gale safely. That is all. But it was
by my own fault, for I must needs take the boat and put out to sea
with my hawk there to find fresh sport. It seemed to me, forsooth,
that a great black-backed gull or fierce skua would give me a fine
flight or two. And so it was; but I rowed out too far, and before I
bethought myself, both wind and tide were against me. I had
forgotten how often after calm comes a shift of wind, and it had
been over still for an hour or so. Then the gale blew up suddenly.
I could have stemmed the tide, as often before; but wind and tide
both were my masters then.

"That was three days and two nights ago. Never thought I to see
another sunset, for by midday of that first day I broke an oar, and
knew that home I could never win; so I made shift with the floor
boards, as you saw, for want of canvas. After that there is little
to tell, for it was ever wave after wave, and gray flying clouds
ever over me, and at night no rest, but watching white wave crests
coming after me through the dark."

"Some of us thought that you were a Finn, at least," said my father
as the Dane paused.

"Not once or twice only on this voyage have I wished myself a Finn,
or at least that I had a Finn's powers," said Lodbrok, laughing;
"but there has been no magic about this business save watchfulness,
and my sons' good handicraft."

Then I asked the jarl how he called his sons, with a little honest
envy in my heart that I could never hope to equal their skill in
this matter of boat building, wherein I had been wont to take some
pride of myself.

"Three sons have I in Jutland, Wulfric, my friend, and they, when
they hear my story, will hold you dear to them. Ingvar is the eldest,
Hubba, the next, and the third, Halfden, is three-and-twenty, and so
about your own age, as I take it, as he is also about your equal in
build and strength. Yet I would sooner see a ship of mine steered by
you than by him, for he is not your equal in that matter."

Now that praise pleased me well, as it did also my father. For we
hold the Danes as first of all peoples in the knowledge of sea
craft; and we had seen that this man was a master therein. But
though at this time I thought of naught but the words of praise,
hereafter I was to remember the words that Jarl Lodbrok spoke of
the way in which these sons of his would hold me when the tale was
told them.

At last we hailed the shore through the creeping dusk, and the
shore lines were thrown out. Then were we alongside our staithe
{iii}, and Lodbrok the Dane had come to Reedham.

Now it may seem but a little thing that a seafarer should be driven
to a strange coast, and be tended there in friendly wise by those
who saved him from the breakers, for such is a common hap on our
island shores. Yet, from this day forward, all my life of the time
yet before me was to be moulded by what came of that cast of line
to one in peril. Aye, and there are those who hold that the fate of
our England herself was in hand that day, though it seems to me
that that is saying overmuch. Yet one cannot tell, and maybe those
who will read this story of mine will be able to judge.

What I do know certainly is this, that all which makes my tale
worth the telling comes from this beginning.



CHAPTER II. HOW LODBROK SPOKE WITH BEORN THE FALCONER.


So soon as we had stepped ashore there came in haste one of our
housecarles with word from my mother that Eadmund, the king, had
that day come to our house from Caistor; so at once my father bade
the man return and bring changes of clothes for himself and me and
Lodbrok to our steward's house, that we might appear in more decent
trim before our guest and master.

So we waited for a little while, watching the men as they berthed
the ship; and as we stood there a word went round among the knot of
people watching with us, and they parted, making a little lane, as
they said, "The king comes". And then I heard the well-known voice
of Eadmund calling gaily to us:

"Ho, friend Elfric, here have I come to see what a man fresh from a
stormy voyage looks like, if light will serve me."

And so saying, I being nearest to him, the king turned me round
with his strong hands, and scanned my rough, wet garments and fur
cap.

"Truly, son Wulfric," he cried, laughing, "I think these things
suit you as well as war gear, and better than court finery, in this
dim light at least. Now let me see the thane himself."

Then my father would have him come back to the house at once, out
of the stormy weather, for the rain was coming now as the wind
fell; and we went, not waiting for the change of garments, for that
the king would not suffer.

As we turned away from the staithe, Lodbrok took my arm, asking me
where he might find shelter.

"Why, come with us, surely!" I answered, having no thought but that
he would have done so as our guest.

"Thanks," he said; "I knew not if your help could go so far as that
to a man whose story might well be too strange for belief."

Now it had seemed to me that no one could doubt such a man, and so
I told him that we had no doubt of him at all in that matter. And
he thanked me gravely again, walking, as I thought, more freely
beside me, as knowing that he was held to be a true man.

We followed my father, who walked with the king, at a little
distance because of this small delay; and presently Lodbrok asked
me if this was the King of all England.

"No," I answered; "though, indeed, he is the only king we know
aught of. This is Eadmund of East Anglia."

"You know him well, as one may see by his way with you," said the
jarl.

"Surely, for he is my father's close friend. They were comrades
together in King Offa's court until the old king laid down his
crown and gave the kingdom into Eadmund's hands; and they are the
same to each other now as ever. He is my godfather; and I was in
his court till I was eighteen. Moreover, I am one of his armour
bearers yet when need is."

So I spoke plainly enough, for I think that I had, and ever shall
have, reason to be proud of our nearness to the king, of whom no
man had but good to say since he, almost as a boy, came to the
throne.

"So then it seems that fate has brought me to court," said the
Dane.

"Yes, in a way," I told him; "for the king will ever bide with us
when he would visit this side of his kingdom."

"I think that I have seen this king before," said Lodbrok
presently; "for he is a man the like of whom one sees not twice."

"Then," said I, "he will surely remember you, for he never forgets
one whom he has had reason to notice."

Whereat the jarl laughed a little to himself; but I had no time to
ask why, for now we were come to the great door; and when my father
would have let the king go in first Eadmund laughed at him, and
took his arm and drew him in with him, so that there was a little
delay, and we drew close.

Very bright and welcome looked the great oaken hall as we came in
from the dark, rainy night. A great fire burnt on its stone hearth
in the centre, and the long tables were already set above and below
it. The bright arms and shields on the walls shone below the heads
of deer and wolf and boar, and the gust of wind that came in with
us flew round the wall, making a sort of ripple of changing colour
run along the bright woven stuffs that covered them to more than a
man's height from the floor. No one in all East Anglia had so well
dight a hall as had Elfric, the rich Thane of Reedham.

Well used was I to all this, but never seemed it more homelike to
me than when I came in fresh from the the cold, gray sea.

And now there stood on the high place to welcome us those whose
presence made the place yet more beautiful to me--my mother, and
Eadgyth my sister, and beside them were Bishop Humbert, our own
bishop, and many thanes of the court, and some of the bishop's
clergy. Such a gathering my father, and, indeed, all of us, loved,
for all were well known to us.

Now I went to greet these dear ones and friends, and there was
pleasant jest and laughter at us for coming thus sea clad and spray
stained into the midst of that gay company. So that for a little
time I forgot Lodbrok, who had not followed me beyond the hearth.

Then Eadgyth said to me:

"Who is that noble-looking man who stands so sadly and alone by the
fire?"

I turned, blaming myself for this forgetfulness, and there was the
Dane gazing into the flames, and seeming heedless of all that was
going on. Nor do I think that I had ever seen one look so sad as
looked that homeless man, as he forgot the busy talk and movement
around him in some thoughts of his own.

So I went to him, touching his arm gently, and he started a little.
Then his grave smile came, and he said:

"Truly, Wulfric, I had forgotten all things but my own home, and
when I woke from my dream at your touch, half thought I that you
were Halfden--that youngest son of mine of whom I told you."

Then so wistfully looked he at me that I could not forbear saying
to him:

"You must hold me as in Halfden's place, for this will be your
house, if you will, until there comes a ship that will take you
home. Gladly will some of the Frisians we know take you at least to
the right side of the broad seas."

"Aye, gladly would some have Lodbrok the Jarl with them," he
answered, smiling strangely.

What he meant, beyond that he might pilot them well, I knew not,
nor, indeed, thought that any hidden meaning lay in his words. So
that his saying passed from my mind, until one day when I should
have cause to understand it well enough.

I would have taken him now to present him to my mother, but she was
gone, and there came to us one of the steward's men, who stared at
the Dane as if he were some marvel, having doubtless heard his
story from one of the seamen, but covered his wonder by bowing low
and bidding him to an inner room where the thane had prepared
change of garment for him. For my father, having the same full
belief and trust in the stranger's word, would no more than I treat
him in any wise but as an honoured guest.

Then said Lodbrok:

"Good shall surely ever be to the house that will thus treat a
wanderer. Hardly would a castaway meet with so great kindness in my
own land. Nor do I think that we Danes have made our name so well
loved among English folk that we should look for the like among
them."

But I answered that we of East Anglia had no cause to blame his
people, who had made peace with us and kept it faithfully.

So the man led Lodbrok away, and I too went to seek gear more
courtly than salt-stained and tar-spotted blue cloth of Lavenham.

There are few thanes' houses which have so many chambers as ours,
for because of the king's friendship with us, my father had added,
as it were, house to house, building fresh chambers out around the
great hall itself, till all one might see was its long roof among
the many that clustered round and against its walls, so that the
thanes who came with him, or to see him, might have no cause to
complain of ill lodging with Elfric of Reedham. So it had come to
pass that our house was often the place where the court lay, and I
know that many of the poorer thanes thanked my father for thus
using his riches, since he saved them many a time the heavy
expenses of housing king and court when their turn should have
come. Yet my father would ever put aside those thanks, saying that
he loved to see his house full, though I myself know that this
saving of others less rich was in his mind.

One part of all these buildings we called "the king's house", for
it was set apart for him, and between that and the great hall was a
square and large chamber which Eadmund would use for his private
audiences, and sometimes for council room. And there we used to
gather from all parts of the place that we might enter the great
hall in his train at supper time, for there was a door which led to
the high table thence, so that the king need not go through the
crowd of housecarles and lesser folk who sat, below the salt, along
the walls. And in that chamber was a chimney to the fire, so that
the hearth was against the wall, which was a marvel to many, but
made the place more meet for the king. Ingild the merchant, my
other godfather, whose home was in London, had brought men thence
to make it for us, having the like in his own house after some
foreign pattern.

There were two men only in this room when I returned ready for the
feast. Both stood before the fire, and both were brightly dressed,
and hardly, but for the drowsy hawk which sat unhooded on his hand,
should I have known Lodbrok in the rich dress my father had had
prepared for him. The other was Beorn, the king's falconer, who
went everywhere with his master. These two were speaking together
as they stood before the fire, and I thought that what Beorn said
was not pleasing to the Dane, for he turned away a little, and
answered shortly.

When they saw me both turned, Lodbrok with a smile of welcome, and
Beorn with a loud, rough voice crying to me:

"Ho, Wulfric, here is a strange thing! This gold ring have I
offered to your stranger here for his falcon--which has three wing
feathers missing, moreover--and he will not sell, though I trow
that a man cast ashore must needs want gold more than a bird which
he may not fly save I gain him leave from the king."

"The bird is Wulfric's," said Lodbrok quietly.

"Nay, Jarl," I answered, "I would not take so loving a hawk from
her master, and over all our manors you may surely fly her."

"See you there!" cried Beorn, with a sort of delight, not heeding
my last words, "Wulfric will not have her! Now will you sell?"

Then Lodbrok looked at me with a short glance that I could not but
understand, and said that it would surely grieve him if I would not
take the falcon.

Pleased enough I was, though half unwilling to take what seemed as
a forced gift. Yet to quiet Beorn--whom I never liked, as he was
both overbearing and boastful, though of great skill in his art of
falconry--I thanked the Dane, and went to where a hawking glove
hung on the wall, for my arm would feel the marks of those strong
talons for many a day, already. As I put it on I said that I feared
the bird would hardly come to me, leaving her master.

"Once I would have said that she would not," said Lodbrok; "for
until today she would bide with no man but myself and her keeper.
But today she has sat on your wrist, so that I know she will love
you well, for reasons that are beyond my guessing."

And so he shifted the falcon lightly from his wrist to mine, and
there she sat quietly, looking from him to me as though she would
own us both.

Then said Beorn, holding out his hand, on which he wore his
embroidered state glove of office:

"This is foolishness. The bird will perch on any wrist that is
rightly held out to her, so she be properly called," and he
whistled shrill, trying to edge the falcon from my hand.

In a moment she roused herself, and her great wings flew out,
striking his arm and face as he pushed them forward; and had he not
drawn back swiftly, her iron beak would surely have rent his gay
green coat.

"Plague on the kite!" he said; "surely she is bewitched! And if her
master is, as they say, a wizard, that is likely--"

"Enough, Master Falconer," I said, growing angry. "Lodbrok is our
guest, and this, moreover, is the court for the time. Why, the bird
is drowsy, and has been with me already. There is no wonder in the
matter, surely?"

But Beorn scowled, and one might see that his pride of falconry was
hurt. Maybe he would have answered again, but I spoke to Lodbrok,
asking him what the falcon was, as she was like none of ours, for
this was a thing I knew Beorn would be glad to know, while his
pride would not let him ask.

And Lodbrok answered that she was an Iceland gerfalcon from the far
northern ocean, and went on to tell us of her powers of flight, and
at what game she was best, and how she would take her quarry, and
the like. And Beorn sat down and feigned to pay no heed to us.

Presently the Dane said that he had known gerfalcons to fly from
Iceland to Norway in a day, and at that Beorn laughed as in scorn.

"Who shouted from Norway to Iceland to say that a lost hawk had
come over?" he said.

The Dane laughed a little also, as at a jest; though one could tell
that Beorn rather meant insult.

"Why," he answered, "the bird got loose from her master's ship as
he sailed out of port in Iceland, and he found her at home in
Nidaros at his journey's ending; and they knew well on what day she
came, which was the same as that on which she got free."

Then I said, lest Beorn should scoff again:

"Now, if this falcon got free from here, surely she will go home to
your land."

"Aye, and so my sons will think me dead, seeing her come without
me. Wherefore keep her safely mewed until she has learnt that this
is her home, for I would not have that mischance happen."

That I promised easily, for I prized the bird highly. And that I
might not leave him with the surly Beorn, I asked the jarl to come
and see her safely bestowed, and left the room with him.

As we crossed the courtyard to the mews, where our good hawks were,
Lodbrok said to me:

"I fear yon falconer is ill pleased with me."

"I have a mind to tell the king of his rudeness to our guest," I
answered.

"That is not worth while," said Lodbrok. "The man's pride is hurt
that he should be thus baffled for all his skill, which, from his
talk, must be great," and we both laughed, for Beorn loved his own
praises.

Now when we got back the guests were gathering, and it was not long
before the king entered, and at once called me.

"All here I know but one, Wulfric, and that one is your seafarer.
Let me know him also that speech may be free among us."

So Lodbrok came, and he and the king looked long at one another
before Eadmund spoke.

"I have heard your story, friend, and it is a strange one," he said
pleasantly. "Moreover, I know your name in some way."

"Well known is the name of Ragnar Lodbrok, my forefather," said the
jarl. "Mayhap the king remembers the name thus!"

"Aye," answered Eadmund, "that is a well-known and honoured name,
and I think that Ragnar's son has a share in his courage. But your
face also seems known to me, and it was not of the great Ragnar
that I thought. Have we met in years past?"

Then Lodbrok said that he had been in London at a time when Offa
the King was there, and it was long years ago, but that the very
day might be remembered by reason of a great wedding that he had
been to see out of curiosity, knowing little of Saxon customs. And
he named the people who were married in the presence of Offa and
many nobles.

Then Eadmund laughed a little.

"Now it all comes into my mind," he said; "you are the leader of
those strangers who must needs come into the church in helm and
mail, with axe and shield hung on shoulders. Moreover, for that
reason, when men bade you depart and you went not, they even let
you bide. So I asked your name--and now I can answer for it that
Lodbrok Jarl you are."

And he held out his hand for the Dane to kiss, after our custom.
But Lodbrok grasped and shook it heartily, saying:

"Thanks, Lord King, for that remembrance, and maybe also for a
little forgetfulness."

Nor was Eadmund displeased with the freedom, but at that last
saying he laughed outright.

"Kings have both to remember and forget," he said, "and maybe, if
the citizens had not expected you to behave as wild vikings, you
would have gone peacefully as you came?"

"That is the truth," said Lodbrok.

So I suppose there had been some fray, of little moment, with the
London folk.

Then we followed the king into the hall; and Lodbrok and I together
sat at table over against him. Soon I knew all that an hour or two
of pleasant talk would teach me of his home and sons and sports,
and the king asked now and again of Danish customs, not yet
speaking of the voyage.

"For," said he, "it is ill recalling hardships until the feast is
over. Then may one enjoy the telling."

Presently the gleemen sang to us; and after that the harp went
round, that those who could might sing, and all the talk in hall
was hushed to hear Eadmund himself, the men setting down ale cups
and knives to listen, for he had a wondrously sweet voice, and sang
from the ancient songs of Caedmon {iv}. Then I sang of the
sea--some song I had made and was proud of, and it pleased all. And
at length we looked at Lodbrok, wondering if he could take his
turn.

"Fain would I try to please my host," he said, looking a little
wistfully at my father; "but a man swept far from home against his
will is no singer."

Then Eadmund pitied him, as did we all, and rose up.

"Feasting is over, thanes," he said. "Let us sit awhile in the
other chamber and hear Lodbrok's story."

For he would ever leave the hall as at this time, so that the
housecarles and lesser guests might have greater freedom of talk
when we were gone.

So we rose up, and as we did so I saw Beorn, the falconer, look
sourly at Lodbrok; and it misliked me that he should harbour any
ill will even yet against the Dane who had done him no wrong.

Round the fire we sat; some ten of us in all, for Bishop Humbert
and his folk went to their lodgings in the town, and there Lodbrok
told the king of his voyage.

And when he named his sons, Eadmund looked grave, and said:

"I have heard of those two chiefs, Ingvar and Hubba. Did they not
make a raid into Northumbria two years ago? Maybe they are yet
there with the host."

"Aye," answered Lodbrok, seeming to wonder at the grave face of our
king; "they went to Northumbria with the host that is yet there.
They fought well and bravely at the place men call Streoneshalch
{v}, gaining much booty. And it was by Ingvar's plan that the
place was taken, and that was well done. But they left the host
with their men after that, saying that there were over many leaders
already."

Now we all knew the cruel story of the burning of that place; but
Northumbria was a far-off kingdom, and with it we had naught to do.
So, except perhaps the king, the rest of us were as little moved as
if he had spoken of the taking of some Frankish town; for if my
father thought more of it, being in the king's counsels, he passed
it over.

"These sons of yours have a mind to be first then," he said
lightly.

"Seeing that the blood of Ragnar Lodbrok is in their veins it could
not well be otherwise," answered the jarl somewhat grimly.

Then he ended his tale, and the king was greatly pleased with him,
so that he bade him bide in the court for a while that he might
take back a good report of us to his own people.

Now when the king was with us, I gladly took up my duties as his
armour bearer for the time; and therefore slept across the doorway
of his chamber when he went to rest. So my father bestowed Lodbrok
with the thanes in the great hall, and I left him there, following
the king.

Well did I sleep that night, though, sailorwise, not so heavily but
that any noise would rouse me in a moment. And as it drew towards
morning the king stirred uneasily, and I looked up at him. Seeing
that I woke he called me softly. The gray light of dawn came
through the window, and I could see that he sat up in his bed,
though I might not make out his face.

"I am here, Lord King. Is aught amiss?" I said, rising up with my
sword in my hand.

"Strange dreams have I had, my son," he said, in his quiet voice,
"and they trouble me."

"Let me know them, my master," I said, "and maybe the trouble will
pass; for often that which seems sorely troublous in a dream is
naught when one would put it into words."

"Sit on the bed and I will tell you," he answered; and when I was
there close to him he went on:

"It was this: I thought that I was in some place where water
gleamed beneath me, while overhead passed the tread of many feet
with music of pipe and tabor as at a bridal. And I cannot tell what
that place was. Then came to me the hand of this Lodbrok, and he,
looking very sad and downcast, led me thence into the forest land
and set me over against a great gate. And beyond that gate shone
glorious light, and I heard the sound of voices singing in such
wise that I knew it was naught but the gate of Heaven itself, and I
would fain go therein. But between me and the gate sped arrows
thick as hail, so that to reach it I must needs pass through them.
Then said Jarl Lodbrok, 'Here is the entry, and it is so hard to
win through because of me, yet not by my fault. But I think you
will not turn aside for arrows, and when you come therein I pray
you to remember me.' Then pressed I to the gate, unheeding of the
arrow storm. And lo! the gate was an oak tree, tall and strong, yet
beyond it was the light and the singing that I had reached. Then
faded the face of Lodbrok, and after me looked sadly many faces,
and one was yours, my son, and the nearest. So I woke."

"That is a wondrous dream," I said, not knowing what to make
thereof, having no skill in reading these matters.

"Aye, my son," answered Eadmund; "nor can I read it; though I think
I shall do so hereafter. Nevertheless it comes into my mind that
the dream warns me that my time is short. Lie down again, my son.
Let us sleep in peace while we may."

After that the king slept peacefully as a little child till full
daylight came; but I for very sadness closed not my eyes again, for
I thought that our king was fey {vi}.

But in the morning the dream had, as it seemed, passed from the
mind of Eadmund, for he was very cheerful, as was his wont, and
said naught of it. However, I told my father thereof, for the
remembrance was heavy to me. And he, when he heard it, bit his lip
a little, pondering, but at last laughed.

"Trouble not yourself about it, son Wulfric," he said; "were I to
mind every dream that I have had, I think that I should take no joy
in life. Why, every year, for the last five past, I have dreamed of
sore shipwreck, and the old vessel's timbers are yet hanging
together!"

I laughed also, and thought that maybe he was right--for my
father's judgment was ever the best in my eyes--and so set my mind
at rest, though the strangeness of the matter would not let it be
altogether forgotten.

Now as days went on and we saw more of our guest, Lodbrok, there
was, I think, no man of our household who would willingly have seen
him take ship and leave us; for his ways and words were pleasant to
all alike, and there seemed to be no craft of which he knew not
something, so that he could speak to each man, in field or village
or boat, of the things that he knew best. And that is a gift that
may well be longed for by any man who would be loved by others.

Greatly pleased with him was Eadmund the King, so that he would
talk long with him of the ways and laws and peoples beyond the
seas; and also of hunting and hawking, which they both loved well.
And in this last Lodbrok was the best skilled master I have ever
known; and the king would ever have him ride beside him in the
field while the court was yet with us. And that pleased not Beorn,
though he kept his ill will to himself; and maybe I alone noted it,
for I had not spoken of that meeting, of which I have told, even to
my father.

Well, too, did my mother and Eadgyth like the courtly ways of the
jarl, who was ever ready to tell them of the life in his household,
and of the daughter, Osritha, who was its mistress since her mother
died but a few years since, and her two elder sisters had been
married to chiefs of their own land. Sometimes, too, they would ask
him of the dress of the ladies of his land; but at that he would
laugh and shake his head, saying that he only knew that they went
wondrously clad, but that he could tell naught more of the matter.

"Weapons and war gear I may talk of by the hour," he said, "but
women's gear is beyond me. But once my daughter and I wrought
together in a matter that was partly of both, and that was when I
needed a war flag. And so I drew out the great raven I would have
embroidered on it, and they worked it in wondrous colours, and gold
and silver round the form of the great bird, so that it seems to
shift and flap its wings as the light falls on it and the breeze
stirs it, as if there were magic therein."

Now Eadgyth was well skilled in this work, and thereat she must
needs say that she would work me a flag for our ship, if the jarl
would plan one. So it seems to me now that that evening was very
pleasant, for they planned and shaped and began a flag whereon was
drawn by the jarl a white falcon like the one he had given to me,
and that was my thought, and it pleased him, as I think.

One day we came home early from our hunting, and Lodbrok and I sat
in the great hall, while the summer rain swelled in torrents, with
thunder and lightning sweeping over the river marshes and out to
sea, and we looked at the weapons that hung on the walls.

"Little care I for your long spear and short sword, friend
Wulfric," he said; "it seems to me that you must needs shorten the
one and lengthen the other before you can be held well armed. And
your bow is weak, and you have no axe."

For I had asked him what he thought of our Saxon weapons, else
would he not have spoken so plainly. Then he thought for a little
while, and said:

"Would you learn to use the axe?"

I answered that nothing would please me better; for of all things,
I longed to excel in weapon play of all kinds.

"That is well," he said, "for I owe you my life, and I think that I
can teach you that which will keep yours against any foe that you
may meet; for you are of the right build for a good axeman, and not
too old to learn."

Then we went to the smithy, and there, while the thunder raged
outside, he forged me an axe of the Danish pattern.

"Thor's own weather!" he said, laughing; and as he spoke the blue
lightning paled the red glow of the forge to a glimmer. "This
should be a good axe, and were you not a Christian, I would bid you
hold your beginning, as its wielder, of good omen."

Then the thunder crashed, and there was no need for me to answer.
And in the end he taught me patiently, until, one day, he said:

"Now do you teach me to use your long spear. I can teach you no
more axe play than you know. Some day you will meet an axeman face
to face, and will find out what you know. Then, if I have taught
you ill, say naught; but if well, then say 'Jarl Lodbrok taught
me'."

Now I hold that the test of mastery of a weapon is that one wishes
for no other, and I knew that I had learned that much. But I could
not tell how much he had taught me, for axe play was new to me, and
I had not seen it before.

After I had learned well, as he said, the jarl tempered the axe
head, heating and cooling it many times, until it would take an
edge that would shear through iron without turning. And he also
wrought runes on it, hammering gold wire into clefts that he made.

"What say they?" I asked.

"Thus they read," he answered:

"Life for life. For Wulfric, Elfric's son, Lodbrok the seafarer,
made me!"

Thereat I wondered a little, for I knew not yet what he had taught
me. Yet when I asked why he wrote those first words, he only
laughed, saying, "That you will know some day, as I think."

Now if I were to write all that went on until August came, I should
speak of little but how the jarl and I were never apart; for though
he was so much older than myself, I grew to be his fast friend. And
many a long day did I spend with him in his boat, learning somewhat
of his skill in handling her, both on river, and broad, and sea.
Very pleasant those days were, and they went all too soon.

No ship came in that could help him homewards, and though the
Danish host was in Northumbria, he cared not to go there, for his
sons were gone home. And Eadmund would fain see more of him, so
that, although I would willingly have taken our ship across the
seas, for the first time, to his place, he would not suffer me to
do so; for he said that he was not so restless here with us, and
that his sons and Osritha, his daughter, had doubtless long thought
him dead.

Now in June the king had gone to Framlingham, and in August came
back to Thetford. Then he sent for my father, begging him to bring
Lodbrok with him, that together they might hunt over the great
heaths that stretch for many a mile north and west and south of the
town. No better sport is there for hawk and hound than on Brandon
and Croxton heaths, and the wilds to which our Saxon Icklings and
Lakings have given their names, for they stretch from forest to
fen, and there is no game in all England that one may not find
there, from red deer to coney, wolf to badger, bustard to snipe,
while there are otter and beaver in the streams.

So they would go, for the wish of a king is, as it were, a command,
even had not both my father and Lodbrok loved to be with him,
whether in hall or field. And I thought that I should surely go
also.

However, my father had other plans for me, and they were none other
than that I should take the ship round to London with some goods we
had, and with some of the new barley, just harvested, which would
ever find ready sale in London, seeing that no land grows better
for ale brewing than ours of East Anglia.

Now that was the first time I had been trusted to command the ship
unaided by my father's presence, though of late he would say that
he was owner, not captain, and but a passenger of mine; so, though
I was sorry not to go to Thetford, I was more proud of myself than
I would show; and maybe I would rather have taken to the sea had
there been choice.

I was to go to my godfather, Ingild the merchant, who would, as
ever, see to business for me; and then, because the season was
late, and wind and weather might keep me long in the river, my
father bade me stay with him, if I would, and if need were lay up
the ship in Thames for the winter, coming home by the great Roman
street that runs through Colchester town to our shores; or if
Ingild would keep me, staying in London with him even till spring
came again.

"If I must leave the ship," I said, "I shall surely come back to
hunt with the jarl and you."

"Nevertheless," answered my father, smiling, "Ingild will have many
a brave show for you in town. Wait till you get to London, for the
court of Ethelred himself will very likely be there, and there will
be much to see. And maybe you will find some Danish ship in the
river, and will send her captain here to take the jarl home with
him; for we may not hold him as a prisoner with us."

Then Lodbrok added that, in any case, I might find means to send
messages to his home by some ship sailing to ports that he named;
and that I promised I would do. Thereon he gave me a broad silver
ring, rune graven, to show as a token to any of his countrymen whom
I might meet, for the ring was known.

"Do not part with it, Wulfric," he said, as I thanked him; "for it
may be of use to you some day, if not on this voyage. Jarl Lodbrok
is well known on the high seas, and he gives not rings for naught."

Now I would not take the falcon with me, but begged the jarl to use
her; and I asked him also to train for himself a greyhound that I
had bred, and of which he thought highly.

"Why," said he, "I shall have the best hawk and dog in all Thetford
town, and Beorn the falconer will have naught to say to me."

Thereat we laughed, for Beorn's jealousy was a sport to us when we
thought of it, which was seldom enough.

So these two went to Thetford, and in the last week of August I
sailed for London, with a fair breeze over the quarter, from our
haven.



CHAPTER III. WHAT CAME IN A NORTH SEA FOG.


Night saw our ship off Orfordness, and there the breeze failed us,
and a thick fog, hiding the land and its lights, crept up from
seaward and wrapped us round. But before it came, on Orfordness a
fire burnt redly, though what it was, unless it might be some
fisher's beacon, we could not tell.

The fog lifted as we drifted past the wide mouth of Stour and
Orwell rivers with a little breeze, and the early daylight showed
us the smoke of a fire that burnt on the higher land that shuts in
the haven's mouth on its southern shores. But even as we saw it,
the fog closed round us again and the wind died away, so that we
lowered the sail, and the men got out the oars, and slowly, while
Kenulf swung the lead line constantly, we crept on among the sand
banks down the coast.

Presently the tide turned against us, and Kenulf thought well that
we should drop anchor and wait for its turning again. The men
gladly laid in the oars, and the anchor rattled out and held. The
ship swung to her cable, and then there seemed deep silence after
the even roll and creak of the great sweeps in their rowlocks. The
fog was very dense, and beyond our stem head I could see nothing.

Then to break the silence came to us, over no great stretch of
water as it seemed, the sound of a creaking block, the fall of a
yard on deck, and a voice raised in some sharp order. Then I
thought I heard an anchor plunge, and there was silence. Very
ghostly it seemed to hear these familiar sounds and to see naught,
and it was the more so that we might by no means judge from which
side of us, or fore or aft, the noises came, for fog will confuse
all things, and save a driving snowstorm, I dread nothing more at
sea.

Now the men began to speak in whispers, for the silence and
weirdness of the fog quieted us all. And, moreover, when the fog
lifted we had seen no ship, though there must be one close to us
now, and we wondered.

But Kenulf came to me presently with a scared face, and waiting
till the men had gone forward to find their food, he asked me if I
heard the voice that spoke.

"Aye, surely," I answered. "What of it?"

"Master," he said, "the voice was a Danish voice, as I think. And I
mind me of the fires we saw."

"What then?" said I carelessly, though indeed I could see well what
fear was in the old man's mind. Yet I would have him put the thing
into words, being ready to look the worst in the face at any time.

"The vikings, master," he answered; "surely they were in Orwell
mouth and saw us, and have given chase."

"We should have seen them also," I said.

"Not so, master, for the fog hung inland, and if a Dane lies in
such a place he has ever men watching the sea--and they will sail
two ship's lengths to our one."

"Supposing the ship is a viking, what should we do now?" I asked,
for I knew of naught to do but bide where we were.

"Go back with tide and slip past them even now," said Kenulf,
though I think he knew that this was hopeless, for if we rowed, the
sound of our oars would betray us, and if not we should be on a
shoal before long, whence any escape would be impossible.

"Hark!" I said in another moment, and we listened.

There was little noise beyond the lapping of the swift tide against
our sides. The men forward were silent, and I had thought that I
heard the distant sound of voices and oars.

It came again in the stillness; a measured beat that one could not
well mistake, as of a ship's boat leisurely pulled.

Then one of our men began to sing in an undertone, and Kenulf smote
his hands together in terror, for the sound would betray us, and he
was going forward to stop the song.

"No matter," said I, "they know we are not far off, for I think
they must have anchored when they heard us do so, as we heard them.
If they seek us they will soon find us."

"They are coming nearer," said Kenulf, and I heard the oars more
plainly yet.

Now the thought of calling my men to arms came over me, but I
remembered how Lodbrok had told me that resistance to vikings,
unless it were successful, meant surely death, but that seldom
would the unresisting be harmed, even if the ship were wantonly
burnt after plunder, and the crew set adrift in their boat.

Still the oars drew nearer, and I thought of the words that Lodbrok
had spoken--how that shipmen would be glad of his presence--and I
wished that he were indeed with me, for now I knew what he meant.

Now, too, I knew his gift of the ring to be our safety, and surely
he had given it to me for this. So I grew confident, and even
longed to see the sharp bow of the boat cleave the mist, if only
her crew knew of our friend by name at least. Yet they might be
Norse--not Danish.

But the sound of oars crossed our bows and died away again, and
then a voice hailed from the ship, as I thought, and there was
silence.

Kenulf and I breathed more freely then, and we too went forward and
ate and drank, and afterwards spoke of the chance of slipping away
when the tide turned, though I was sure that, if the ship were what
we thought, she would up anchor and drift with us.

So the hours of flood tide passed, and then the ship began to swing
idly as the slack came. Then with the turn of tide came little
flaws of wind, and we hoisted the sail, and Kenulf hove the anchor
short. Yet we heard no more sounds from the other ship.

Then all in a minute the fog thinned, lifted, and cleared away, and
I saw the most beautiful sight my eyes had ever lighted on, and the
most terrible.

For, not half a mile from us, lay a great viking snekr {vii},
with the sunlight full on her and flashing from the towering green
and gold and crimson dragon's head that formed her stem, and from
the gay line of crimson and yellow shields that hung along her rail
from end to end of the long curve of her sides. Her mast was
lowered, and rested, with the furled blue and white striped sail,
on the stanchions and crossbars that upheld it, to leave the deck
clear for swing of sword and axe; and over the curving dragon tail
of the stern post floated a forked black and golden flag. And
wondrously light and graceful were the lines on which she was
built, so that beside her our stout cargo ship showed shapeless and
heavy, as did our log canoes beside Lodbrok's boat. As soon should
our kitchen turnspit dog fly the greyhound that I had given
Lodbrok, as such a ship as ours from this swift viking's craft.

But her beauty was not that which drew the eyes of my men. Little
they thought of wonder or pleasure in gazing on the ship herself.
All her decks were crowded with scarlet-cloaked men, and the
sunlight which made the ship so bright flashed also from helm and
spear and mail coat from stem to stern. And at that sight every
tale of viking cruelty they had heard came into their minds, and
they were overcome with terror, so that I thought that several
would have cast themselves into the sea, away from the terrible
ship, choosing rather death by water than by the sword. But I saw
some half dozen whose faces set hard with other thoughts than
these, and they turned to seek their weapons from under the fore
deck.

Then I spoke to them, for it was time; and I would have neither
fear nor defiance shown, for I knew that we should be boarded.

"Yonder ship belongs, as I think, to the people of our guest,
Lodbrok the Dane. So it seems to me that they will gladly hear news
of him from us, as he is a great man in Denmark. And surely we have
deserved well of his folk in every way, and we of East Anglia are
at peace with the Danish host. Therefore, let us wait till they
board us, and then let no man stir from his place or speak a word,
that I may talk with them in peace."

Those words were listened to eagerly, and they wrought on the minds
of my poor fellows as I wished. Moreover, to put our one chance of
safety into form thus heartened me also, for I will not say that I
feared nothing from these vikings, who might know and care naught
concerning our sea-borne guest, even were they Danes.

Yet it seemed that none saw my fears, for in a little the men asked
if they might take their weapons. And though it seemed hard to me
and them alike to bide unarmed, I knew it was safer, and so bade
them meet the Danes in all peaceful seeming.

Now we saw a boat lowered from the longship's side, and one by one
armed men entered her, and she sank deeply in the water. Ten I
counted, and at last one more, who, I supposed, was the leader.

So deep was she that, as she left the ship, I thought how that one
sack of our grain, hove into her as she came alongside, would sink
her and leave her crew to drown in our sight. But then the ship
herself would close on us, and not one of us but would pay for that
deed with his life.

So she came slowly over the glassy water of the slack tide, and my
men watched her, saying nothing.

Soon she came alongside, and at a sign from me Kenulf threw a line
which the bowman caught, and I thought that a word or two of wonder
passed among her crew. They dropped to where the curve of our deck
was lowest, and instantly the leader leapt on board and all but one
of his men followed, axe or drawn sword in hand. As I had bidden
them, not one of my men stirred save Kenulf, who made fast the line
and stood watching.

The leader was a young man, of about my own age, clad in golden
shining bronze scale armour and wearing a silver helm on which were
short, black, curving horns; and he bore a double-headed axe,
besides the sword at his side. He looked round on us--at the men
standing silent, at Kenulf, and at me as I stood on the after deck
resting on the tiller, and broke into a great laugh.

"Well," he cried, "are you all dumb, or fools, or wise men; or a
little of all three?"

But my men answered nothing, even as I had bidden them, and I
thought that my time was not yet come to speak.

"The fog has got into their throats," said a Dane; for with a great
lifting of my heart I knew their tongue, and it was Lodbrok's and
not Norse.

"Struck speechless with fear more like," said another.

"Ho, men," said the leader, "which is your captain?"

One of our crew pointed to me, and I came to the break of the deck
saying:

"I am master of this ship."

And I spoke as a Dane, for my long company with Lodbrok had given
me the very turn of his speech.

At that the viking stared at me, and one of his men said:

"When did Danes take to trading on this coast?"

"You are Saxon by all seeming," said the leader, "yet you speak
like a Dane. Whence are you, and how learned you our tongue so
glibly?"

"We are from Reedham in East Anglia, which is at peace with the
Danish host," I said; "and I learnt the Danish speech from one who
is my friend, Lodbrok the Dane, whom men call Jarl Lodbrok."

Now at that word the Danes all turned to me, and hardly one but let
fall some word of wonder; and the young leader took two great steps
towards me, with his face flushing and his eyes lit up with a new
look.

Then he stopped, and his face changed, growing white and angry, and
his teeth closed tightly as he looked at me. Then he said:

"Now if you are making a tale to save your skins, worse shall it be
for you. What know you of Lodbrok?"

I held out my hand, on which the jarl's ring shone white against
the sea-browned skin.

"Here is a token he gave me before I sailed, that some friend of
his might know it and speak to me," I said.

The viking dropped his axe on the deck and seized my hand, gazing
at the ring and the runes graven thereon.

"Lives he yet?" he said, breathless.

"Aye, Halfden Lodbroksson, your father lives and is well in our
house," I answered; for now I knew that this was surely the
youngest of those three sons of whom the jarl had told me so often.

Now at that word the Danes broke into a great cheer, but Halfden
laid his hands on my shoulders and kissed me on both cheeks, while
the tears of joy ran down his face.

"Well must Lodbrok my father love you if he has told you so much
that you know me by name," he cried; "and well does he trust you
since he has given you his ring. Tell me more and ever more of
him."

Then sudden as before his mood changed, and he let me go and
climbed on the rail with his arm round a backstay, and taking off
his helm he lifted up a mighty shout to his ship:

"Found is Jarl Lodbrok, ahoy!"

And with uplifted weapons his men repeated the shout, so that it
seemed as though the loved name was heard across the still water,
for the men on board the ship cheered in answer.

Now nothing would serve Halfden but that I must go with him on
board his own ship, there to tell him all I might; and he laughed
gaily, saying that he had looked indeed for a rich booty, but had
gained that which was more worth to him.

Then I told Kenulf that we would bide at anchor till we knew what
should be done, thinking it likely that Halfden would wish us to
pilot him back to Reedham.

"We shall lose our tide," grumbled the old man, who was himself
again, now that he knew we had naught to fear.

"That is all we shall lose," I answered, "and what matters it? we
have all our time before us."

"I like not the weather," he said shortly.

But I paid no more heed to him, for Halfden spoke to me.

"Let me leave a few men here," he said; "the boat is overladen, and
the sea is rising with the breeze;" and then he added with a smile
that had much grim meaning in it. "They bide as friends with you,
and but for our safety; not to take charge of your ship."

So I bade Kenulf give the three who remained the best cheer that we
might, treating them as Lodbrok's men; for the old pilot loved the
jarl well, and I knew that for his sake he would do much.

Then in a few more minutes I stood on the deck of Halfden's ship,
and word went round quickly of my news, so that I had a good
welcome. Yet I liked not the look of the Danish men, after the
honest faces of our own crew. It seemed to me that they were hard
featured and cruel looking, though towards me were none but
friendly looks. Yet I speak of the crew only, for Halfden was like
his father in face and speech, and that is saying much for him in
both.

They spread a great awning, striped in blue and white like the
sail, over the after deck, and there they set food and wine for us,
and Halfden and I sat down together. And with us one other, an
older man, tall and bushy bearded, with a square, grave face
scarred with an old wound. Thormod was his name, and I knew
presently that he was Halfden's foster father, and the real captain
of the ship while Halfden led the fighting men.

"Food first and talk after," quoth this Thormod, and we fell to.

So when we had finished, and sat with ale horns only before us,
Halfden said:

"I have sought tidings of my father from the day when he was lost
until this. Now tell me all his story from end to end."

And I did so; though when it came to the throwing of the line to
the boat I said naught of my own part in that, there being no need,
and moreover that I would not seem to praise myself. And I ended by
saying how Lodbrok was even now at court with Eadmund, our king,
and high in favour with him and all lesser men.

Many were the questions that the Danes asked me as I spoke, and I
answered them plainly, for indeed I was glad to see the look in
Halfden's eyes as I spoke to him of his father, I having naught but
pleasant things to tell of him, which one may say of few men,
perhaps. And by and by I spoke of his having taught me the use of
the Danish axe.

"Ho!" said Thormod; "hold your peace for a while, and we will see
what sort of pupil he had."

Then he rose up and took his axe, and bade me take Halfden's, which
I did, not over willingly maybe, while Halfden stood by, smiling.

"I will not harm you," said Thormod shortly, seeing that I was not
over eager. "See here!"

His ale horn stood on the low table where we had been sitting, and
now he placed it on the gunwale, going from under the awning. The
men who sat along the decks looked up at him and were still.

Then he heaved up the axe with both hands and whirled it, bringing
it down with such force that I looked to see both horn and gunwale
shorn through. But so skilful was he that he stayed that mighty
stroke so that the keen edge of the axe rested on the horn's rim
without marking it, and all the men who were watching cried out:

"Skoal {viii} to Thormod the axeman!"

"So," said he; "now stand up and guard a stroke or two; only strike
not as yet, for maybe your axe would go too far," and he smiled
grimly, as in jest.

But I had learned that same trick from the jarl.

Now Lodbrok had told me that when one has a stronger axeman to deal
with than one's self the first thing is to guard well. So he had
spent long hours in teaching me guard after guard, until I could
not fail in them.

"I am ready," I said, standing out before him.

Thormod feinted once or twice, then he let fly at me, striking with
the flat of his axe, as one does when in sport or practice. So I
guarded that stroke as the jarl had taught me; and as I did so the
men shouted:

"Well done, Saxon!"

"No need to go further," said Thormod, dropping his axe and
grasping his wrist with his left hand; for that parry was apt to be
hard on the arm of the man who smote and met it. "That is the
jarl's own parry, and many an hour must he have spent in teaching
you. It is in my mind that he holds that he owes you his life."

And from that time Thormod looked at me in a new way, as I felt.

Halfden was well pleased, and shouted:

"Nay, Thormod; your turn to guard now; let Wulfric smite at you!"

"No, by Thor, that will I not," he said; "he who taught to guard
has doubtless taught to strike, and I would not have my head
broken, even in play!"

Now he sat down, and I said, mindful of Lodbrok's words:

"It seems to me that I have been well taught by the jarl."

"Aye, truly," said Thormod; "he has taught you more than you
think."

Halfden would have me keep his axe, but I told him of that one
which the jarl had made for me, and straightway he sent the boat
for it, and when it came read the runes thereon.

"Now this says that you are right, Thormod! Here has my father
written 'Life for life'--tell us how that was!"

So I said that it was my good fortune to cast him the line that
saved his boat, and that was all. But they made as much of that as
did Lodbrok himself. And when the men came from our ship, they
brought that tale from our men also; so that they made me most
welcome, and I was almost fain to get away from them.

But we sat and talked while the tide went by and turned, and still
we lay at anchor until the stars came out and the night wind began
to sing in the rigging of the great ship.

Now I had thought that surely Halfden would have wished to sail
back to Reedham at once, there to seek his father; but I knew not
yet the power which draws a true viking ever onward to the west,
and when I said that we would, if he chose, sail back with him on
the next tide, he only laughed, saying:

"Why so? My father is well and in good case. Wherefore we will end
our cruise well if we can, and so put in for him on our way home at
the season's end."

"What would you do, then?" I asked, wondering.

"Raid somewhere," he answered carelessly. "We will not go home
without some booty, or there will be grumbling among the wives; but
for your sake we will go south yet, for you are bound for London,
as I think."

I said that it was so, and that I would at once go back to Reedham
when my business was done, there to prepare for his coming.

"That is well; and we will sail to Thames mouth together. And you
shall sail in my ship to tell me more of my father, and because I
think we shall be good friends, so that I would rather have you
come and raid a town or two with me than part with you. But as you
have your ship to mind, we will meet again at Reedham, and I will
winter there with you, and we will hunt together, and so take you
home with us in the spring."

Now this seemed good to me, and pleased me well enough, as I told
him. Where Halfden and his crew went, south of Thames mouth, was no
concern of mine--nor, indeed, of any other man in East Anglia in
those days. That was the business of Ethelred, our overlord, if he
cared to mind the doings of one ship. Most of all it was the
concern of the sheriff in whose district a landing was made.

So messages were sent to old Kenulf, and glad was he to know that
we should not have to give up our passage to London, and maybe
still more to feel safe in this powerful company from any other
such meetings. And before the tide served us, Halfden had said that
he also would come to London, so that our ship should lead the way
up the river.

When we weighed anchor Thormod must needs, therefore, reef and
double reef his sail, else our ship had been hull down astern
before many hours had passed, so swift was the longship.

Now I have said that old Kenulf had misliked the look of the
weather, and now Thormod seemed uneasy. Yet the breeze came fresh
from the southeast; and though it had shifted a good deal, I, for
my part, thought little ill of that, for it held in that quarter
till we were fairly among the sands of the Thames mouth at
nightfall, and Kenulf lit lanterns by which we might follow him. No
man knew the Thames-mouth channels better than our pilot, Kenulf
the sea crafty, as we called him.

Then it fell dead calm, quite suddenly, and we drifted, with the
sail flapping against the mast idly, for half an hour or so. Then
fell on us, without warning, such a fierce gale as I had never
before seen, blowing from north and west, with rain and bright
lightning, and it raised in five minutes a sea that broke over us
again and again as Thormod brought the ship head to wind.

Then I lost sight of Kenulf's lights, and as I clung to the rail,
my mind was torn with longing to be back in my own ship in this
danger, though I knew that Kenulf needed me not, and that, had I
been there, it would but have been to obey him with the rest of our
crew; yet I think that any man who loves his ship will know what I
felt.

And of the fury and darkness of that night I will say little. This
is what comes into my mind of all that happened--aye, and at night,
when the wind roars round the house, I see it all again, waking in
my dreams as I call to Kenulf. One flash of lightning showed me my
ship dismasted and helpless, drifting broadside on to a sand over
which the waves broke white and angry, and when the next flash
came--she was gone!

Then I cried out on my folly in leaving her, and out of the
blackness beside me as I clung to the gunwale, straining my eyes
against the spray, Halfden's voice came, crying, as he gripped my
arm:

"By Odin--it is well that I kept you here!"

And Thormod from the helm shouted to his men to stand by the sheet,
and the helm went down, and the ship drove through the seas that
broke clean over her as he saw the danger in time to stand away
from it, heading her as free as he dared.

Naught of this I heeded, for I could think but of the stout sailor
men with whom I had been brought up, and of whom I knew only too
surely that I should see them not again. And for them I tried to
pray, for it was all that I could do, and it seemed so little--yet
who knows what help may come therefrom?

Now the longship fought alone with the storm. Hard was the fight,
but I, who was willing to die with my own people who had gone
before my eyes, cared nothing for whether we won through the gale
or not. But Thormod called to me, bidding me pilot them as best I
might, and so I was taken a little from my thoughts. Yet can I take
no praise to myself that, when the gale slackened, we were safe and
beyond the dangers of the shoals.

We were far down channel when morning broke, and on either bow were
white cliffs, plain to be seen in the clear light that came after
the short fury of the gale was spent. Never had I thought that a
ship could sail so wondrously as this of Halfden's, and yet I took
no pleasure therein, because of all that I had lost. And it seemed
to me that now I knew from my own chance why it was that Lodbrok
could sing no song to us at that feasting, when we came home to
Reedham; for surely my case was even as his.

So I thought, leaning on the gunwale and staring ever at the white
cliffs of England on our starboard; and there Halfden found me, and
came, putting his hand on my shoulder very kindly.

"Now if you have lost friends and ship by the common chances of the
sea," he said, "surely you have found both anew. You shall turn
viking and go on this raid with us. Glad shall we be of your axe
play and seamanship."

I turned to him and put my hand into his.

"I will go with you, Halfden," I said, for it seemed at that time
that I had naught else left for me to do.

And ever since I was a child, listening to the songs of the
gleemen, had I thought that some day I, too, would make a name for
myself on the seas, as my forefathers had made theirs, so that my
deeds should be sung also. Yet that longing had cooled of late, as
the flying people from Mercia had found their way now and then to
us with tales of Danish cruelties.

"That is well said," he answered, pleased enough. "Where shall we
go?"

Then I had yet thought enough left me to say that against our Saxon
kin I would not lift axe. And so came to me the first knowledge
that what wiser men than I thought was true--that the old seven
kingdoms were but names, and that the Saxon and Anglian men of
England were truly but one, and should strive for that oneness,
thinking no more of bygone strifes for headship.

"Why, that is fair enough, so you have no grudge to pay off," he
said; "but I will help you to settle any, if you have them."

"I have no grudge against any man," I answered, truly enough.

"Then if we raid on English shores, you shall keep ship, as someone
must; and so all will be satisfied," he answered; "but we will go
first to the Frankish shores, for it is all one to me."

So that pleased me as well as anything would at that time;
whereupon we went to Thormod, and he was very willing that I should
take part and share with them. And as to my loss, he bade me take
heart, for a seaman has ever risks such as these to run; and, as it
seemed, this ship of ours had ever been lucky. Which was true
enough, as my father had told me by the fireside many a time.

After this we headed over to the Frankish shore, and there I had my
first fight. For we raided a town there, and the citizens stood up
to us well. I fought in silence, while my comrades yelled to Thor
and Odin as they smote, for those against whom we fought were
Christian men, and to fight against them by the side of heathen
went against me. Yet the lust of battle took hold on me, and fight
I must. But I will tell no more of that business, save that Halfden
and Thormod praised me, saying that I had done well. And after that
the crew asked that I should lead the men amidships, for their head
man had been slain, and Halfden was on the fore deck, and Thormod
aft. So my boyish dreams were like to come to pass, for I was thus
a viking indeed. Yet I had little pride therein.

Thence we raided ever eastward and westward along that shore, and I
grew to love Halfden well, strange as were his wild ways to me. For
he was in all things most generous; nor was he cruel, but would
hold back the more savage of the men when he could--though, indeed,
that was seldom--when they were mad with fighting.

So the weeks went on, until at last one day as we left a haven
where we had bided for a while, taking ransom from the town that we
might leave it in peace, we spied a sail far off coming from
eastward, and Thormod would have us bear up for her, to see what
she might be. But instead of flying, as a trading ship would, the
strange vessel waited for us, lowering her sail and clearing for
action, so that there was doubt if she was not Norse. Now between
Dane and Northman is little love lost, though at times they have
joined hands, loosely as one might say, or as if cat and dog should
go together to raid a rabbit warren.

"If she be Norse," said Halfden, and his eyes shone, "we will fight
her, and that will be a fight worth telling of by the crew that is
left when we have done!"

But she turned out to be Danish, and a boat came from her to us.
She was on the same errand as ourselves, and, moreover, belonged to
one Rorik, who was a friend of Lodbrok's, so that again I must go
through all the story of his perils.

Now if Halfden's men had seemed rough and ill-favoured to me when
first I saw them, time and comradeship had worn off the feeling,
but it came back to me as I looked on these men, and most of all on
this Rorik; so that for a little I hated myself for being in their
company to make war on peaceful Christian folk, though, indeed, I
could well excuse myself, seeing what straits had thrown me thus
among them to follow the ways of my own forefathers, Hengist's men.

These newcomers held long counsel with Halfden and Thormod, and the
end of it was that they agreed to sail in company, making a raid on
the English coast, and first of all on the South Saxon shores,
behind the island that men call Wight. And that was the thing that
I had feared most of all, so that as I sat silent and listened,
taking no part, as I might, in the planning, my heart seemed like
to break for the hardness of it.

Yet I set my face, saying naught, so that presently Rorik looked
over at me and laughed, crying in a kind of idle jest:

"Silent is our friend here, though he looks mighty grim, so that I
doubt not he will be glad to swing that big axe of his ashore."

Now I was in ill company, and must fit my speech to theirs,
answering truly enough:

"It seems to me that some of us here were a little downcast when we
found that you were no Northmen, for we looked for a fight."

Whereon they all laughed, and Rorik said that maybe his men had the
same longing, but that we would make a great raid between us. And
so the matter passed, and he and his men went back to their ship,
and we headed over to the English shore together.



CHAPTER IV. THE SONG OF THE BOSHAM BELL.


There is a wondrous joy in the heart of a man who sees his own land
again after long days at sea, but none of that joy might be mine as
the long lines of the South Downs showed blue through the haze of
the late September day. Only the promise of Lodbrok's son, that on
English shores I should not fight, helped me a little, else should
I have been fain to end it all, axe to axe with Rorik on the narrow
deck just now, or in some other way less manful, that would never
have come into my mind but for the sore grief that I was in. And
these thoughts are not good to look back upon, and, moreover, I
should have fully trusted my friend Halfden Lodbroksson.

Hardest of all was it to me when I knew where our landing was to be
made; for if Glastonbury is the most holy place in Wessex, so
should Bosham, the place of Wilfrith the Saint, be held in
reverence by every South Saxon; because there, unmindful of his
wrongs {ix}, he was content to labour with the wild heathen
folk, teaching them, both in body and soul, the first lessons of
our holy faith.

Well knew I the stories of those places which I saw as the ships
crept up the haven, for Humbert our bishop had told me them many a
time when as a child I sat on his knee and listened, wondering.
There was Selsea with its pile of buildings--Wilfrith's own--there
the little cliff over which the starving heathen had cast
themselves in their despair, and there, at last, the village,
clustering round the little monastery that Dicul, the Irish monk,
had founded, and where Wilfrith had first taught. And now, maybe, I
must see the roofs that had sheltered him, and heard the first
praises of his converts, burnt before my eyes, and that while I
myself was siding with the destroyers.

Then at last I took Halfden aside and told him my trouble, putting
him in mind of the promise he had made me.

"Aye," said he, "I knew what made you so silent, and I have but
waited for you to speak. Ill should I have thought of you had you
not done so. But I have this plan for you. You shall go ashore with
the first, and speak to the Saxons to give us ransom, if they have
aught, or if any man is foolish enough to bide in the place when we
come. Then, if you will, you shall leave us and make your way
homeward, there to give messages to my father and yours, and to
look for my coming to Reedham shortly. There will I winter with
you, and we will sail to Jutland in the spring."

Then he looked long at me, and put his arm round my shoulder.

"Truly I shall miss you, Wulfric, my brother, yet it is but for a
short time."

Now I knew not how to thank him, for this plan was all that I could
wish. And he would have no delay, but gave me good Saxon arms and
helm, and a chain-mail byrnie {x} of the best, such as Saxon or
Dane alike would wear, for he had many such, gathered from the
different lands he had raided with his father and brothers.

"Any man, seeing you in Danish arms and helm," he said, "might well
mistrust you. So you must needs take these, for you have far to
go."

Then, too, he pressed on me a heavy leathern bag, for he said truly
enough that I should need gold withal to buy a horse. And this I
took willingly, saying that it should be as a loan till he came to
Reedham.

"Nay," quoth he, "this is your share of booty; we surely gained
enough on yonder shores to bring you this much."

Then I was silent, for I was ashamed of those gains, and I did not
look into the bag, but bestowed it inside my mail shirt, for I
would not offend him. Then, when I was armed and ready, he gave me
many messages for his father, and thanks to mine. A ring, too, he
gave me for a sure token of his friendship to me; and so as the
ship crept, under oars only, up Bosham haven, we talked of the
hunting we would have together, when the leaves were fallen in our
forests; and that was pleasant to look forward to.

Now began frightened men to run to and fro on the haven's banks,
and then suddenly came the ringing of a bell from the low tower of
the church, and the Danes began to look to their arms, stringing
bows, and bringing up the pebble ballast for sling stones, in case
the landing should be resisted.

But when we came to a little wharf, the other ship being perhaps a
mile astern of us, there was no man. Only a small fishing vessel
lay alongside, and that we cast adrift, taking its place.

Then Halfden and I and twenty men went quickly ashore and marched
up among the trees of the village street. There was no man in
sight, but the bell was still ringing.

A great fear for the holy men shut up in the little monastery came
over me now, and I asked Halfden to let me warn them, for I knew
that he was like his father and would not deny me in this.

"Go and do so if you can," he said, "and so farewell till we meet
at Reedham. We shall bide here till Rorik's men join us, and you
will have time."

So he took my hand and I went quickly thereafter, the men calling
after me "Farewell, axeman!" heartily enough, knowing of my going
to Reedham, and caring nothing for the monks, seeing that there
would be no fighting.

Now, guided by the bell, I went on quickly, seeing no man. The
houses stood open and deserted, and all along the road were
scattered goods, showing that the people had fled in haste, so that
they had soon cast aside the heavier things they had thought to
save.

Soon I came to the gate of the little stone-walled monastery, over
which rose the tower whence the bell yet rang; for the church
seemed to make one side of the courtyard into which the gate would
lead. A farm cart stood outside; but the gates were closed, and
when I looked, I saw that the pin of the wheel was broken, so that
the cart could go no further. And that made me fear that more than
the monks were penned inside those four walls.

I knocked loudly on the gate, and for a while was no answer, though
I thought the ringing of the bell grew more hurried. Then I beat on
the gate with my axe, crying:

"Open, in the name of Eadmund the King."

And I used his name because, though a Dane might well call in
subtlety on the name of Ethelred, none but a Saxon who knew how
well loved was the under-king of East Anglia would think of naming
him. And I was right, for at his name the little square wicket in
the midst of the gate opened, and through its bars an old monk
looked out, and at once I cried to him:

"Let me in, Father, for the Danes are at my heels."

He muttered a prayer in a voice that trembled, and let me in,
holding the gate fast, and closing and barring it after me.

And all the courtyard was full of terrified men, women, and
children, while among them stood the half-dozen monks of the place,
pale and silent, listening to the clang of the bell overhead.

When they saw me some of the women shrieked and clung to children
or husbands, scared at my arms. But one of the monks, a tall man on
whose breast was a golden cross, came quickly to me, asking: "Is
the sheriff at hand with the levy?"

I told him hastily how that the only hope for these helpless ones
was in flight to the woods, urging him until he understood me.
Gathering his monks around him, and rousing the people, he led them
to the rearward gate that opened toward the forest land, calling at
the same time to his swineherd, who was there, and bidding him take
them by the forest tracks to Chichester.

Then he bade his monks go also; but they lingered, asking to be
allowed to stay with him, and also what should become of the holy
vessels if the heathen laid profane hands on them.

"Obey, as your vows bid you," said the prior; "I and this warrior
will care for the holy things."

So they went, weeping, and were lost in the woods; for there was
little cleared land round the village, and the trees came close to
the monastery walls.

Now we two, the monk and I, stood at the open gate for a moment and
listened. We could hear nothing of the Danes as yet.

Then we closed and barred that gate; and all this while the bell
had tolled unceasingly, calling as it were for help that came not.

"Now do you go and call the sacristan from the bell," the prior
said, "and bid him lead you to the chancel, where I shall be."

I went to the tower door, unhesitating, for this man seemed to have
a wondrous power of command, so that I obeyed him without question,
even as had the villagers. And even as I went there came the sound
of many rushing feet up the street, and yells from Danish throats,
while axe blows began to rain on the gate by which I had entered.

Then the prior bade me hold the gate when he heard that, and he
spoke quietly and in no terror, turning and calling to the man in
the tower himself; while I stood opposite the gate, looking to see
it fall with every blow. Yet it was not so weakly made as that, and
moreover I remembered that it was crossed with iron bands in
squares so that the axes could not bite it fairly.

Now the bell stopped and the Danes howled the louder. A torch flew
over the wall and fell at my feet blazing, and I hurled it back,
and the Danes laughed at one whom it struck. Then came the two
monks from the tower and ran into the church, while I watched the
trembling of the sorely-tried gate, and had it fallen I should
surely have smitten the first Dane who entered, even had Halfden
himself been foremost, for in the four walls of that holy place I
was trapped, and knew that I must fight at last. And now it seemed
to me that I was to fight for our faith and our land; and for those
sacred things, if I might do naught in dying, I would give my life
gladly.

"Come," said the prior's voice, and he was smiling though his face
was pale, while behind him the sacristan bore an oaken chest, iron
bound, on his shoulders.

He drew me across the courtyard, but I ever looked back at the
gate, thinking it would fall; and now they were at the other gate,
and blows rained on it. Yet the monk smiled again and went on
without faltering, though our way was towards it.

Then we turned under an arch into a second court, and the din was
less plain as we did so. There was the well of the monastery, and
without a word the sacristan hove the heavy chest from his
shoulders into its black depths, and the splash and bubble of its
falling came up to us.

"That is safe," said the prior; "now for ourselves."

He hooked the oaken bucket to its rope and let it down to its full
length in the well, and at once the sacristan swung himself on it,
slid down, and was gone. Then the rope swayed to one side, and
stayed there, shaking gently in a minute or so.

The prior drew it up, and maybe fifteen feet from the top, there
was a bundle tied--a rope ladder on which were iron hooks. These he
fastened to the edge of the oaken platform that covered the well
mouth, and let the other end fall down the well. Then he bade me go
down to the sacristan.

That was easy to me, and I went, yet I feared for him who stood
listening to the splintering of the nearer gate, for it would soon
fall surely. I saw the sacristan's face glimmer white before me
from a hollow in the well shaft, as I set my foot on the last rung
of the ladder, and I held out my hand to him. Then in a moment I
was beside him in a little chamber built in the walling of the
well; and after me came the prior.

He jerked the ladder from side to side till the hooks above lost
their hold and it fell, so that he drew it in. We were but a few
feet above the water, and the well rope hung down into the
blackness before us, but I was sure that no man could see the
little doorway of the chamber from above, for the trapdoor in the
well cover was small, and light there was hardly any.

"Now all is safe," said the prior; "and we may be careless again."

"They will burn the monastery," I said. "One torch has been thrown
already."

He smiled a little, as I thought, for my eyes were growing used to
the dim light.

"They may burn some things, but roof and benches are soon made
afresh. There is oaken timber in plenty in Andredsweald, and ready
hands to hew it. Our stone walls they cannot hurt."

Those were all the words we spoke of the matter at that time, for
there came a great shouting. One of the gates had fallen at last,
and the Danes were in the place.

"Father," said the sacristan, "surely they will find this place?"

The prior laughed a short laugh.

"That is a thought born of your fears, Brother," he answered; and I
who had had the same fear was rebuked also, for indeed that I
should go down the well had never come into my mind, even in our
need of shelter, so why should the Danes think of it?

Then we were silent, listening to the feet and voices overhead. The
Danes found the belfry presently, and began to toll the bell
unskillfully while the men below jeered at those who handled the
ropes. Then the bell clashed twice strangely, and the prior laughed
outright.

"The clumsy churls have overthrown her," he said, "now I hope that
one has had his head broken thereby."

I marvelled that he could jest thus, though maybe, after the strain
and terror of the danger we had so far escaped, it was but natural
that his mind should so rebound as it were.

Very soon after this the Danes came clattering into the little
court where the well was, and straightway came to its mouth,
casting stones down it, as no idle man can help doing. The
sacristan crept to the furthest corner of our little den and sat
there trembling, while I and the other monk listened with set teeth
to the words that came down to us. Nor will I say that I was not
somewhat frightened also, for it seemed to me that the voices were
unknown to me. They were Rorik's men, therefore, and not our
crew--who likely enough would but have jeered at me had they found
me hiding thus.

"Halfden's men have drunk all the ale in the place, and that was
not much," said one man; "let us try the water, for the dust of
these old storehouses is in my throat."

Then he began to draw up the bucket, and it splashed over us as it
went past our doorway.

"There is naught worth taking in this place," growled another man.
"Maybe they have hove their hoards down the well!"

Now at that the sacristan gave a stifled groan of terror, and I
clutched my axe, ready for need.

"All right, go down and see!" answered one or two, but more in jest
than earnest.

Then one dropped a great stone in, and waited to hear it bubble
from the bottom, that he might judge the depth. Now no bubbles
came, or so soon that they were lost in the splash, and the prior
took some of the crumbling mortar from the cell walls, and cast it
in after a few moments. And that was a brave and crafty thing to
do, for it wrought well.

"Hear the bubble," said the Dane; "the well must be many a fathom
deep--how long it seemed before they came up!"

So they drank their fill, saying that it was useless to go down
therefore, and anyhow there would be naught but a few silver
vessels.

"I have seen the same before," said one; "and moreover no man has
luck with those things from a church."

No man gainsaid him, so they kicked the bucket down the well and
went away.

Now I breathed freely again, and was about to whisper to the prior
that his thought of making what would pass for bubbling was good;
but more Danes came. And they were men of Halfden's ship; so we
must wait and listen, and this time I thought that surely we were
to be found. For the men began to play with one another as they
drank from the bucket; pushing each other's heads therein, and the
helm of one fell off and fled past us to the bottom; and some words
passed pretty roughly. And after they had done quarrelling they
crowded over the trapdoor, as one might know by the darkening of
the shaft. Then one saw the helm, for it was of leather, iron
bound, and had fallen rim upward, so that it floated. Now one was
going to swarm down the rope to get it, but as he swung the rope to
him, the bucket swayed in the water under the helm, and he saw that
it did so. Whereon he wound both up, and they too went away.

"That was a lucky chance!" I whispered.

"No chance at all, my son; that was surely done by the same Hand
that sent you here to warn us," answered the prior. And I think
that he was right.

Now came a whiff of biting smoke down the well shaft, borne by some
breath of wind that eddied into it. The Danes had fired the place!

"Father," I whispered, pulling the prior forward, for he had gone
into the little cell to give thanks for this last deliverance.

He looked very grave as he saw the blue haze across the doorway,
hiding the moss and a tiny fern that grew on the shaft walls over
against us.

"This is what I feared, though I must needs make light of it," he
said.

"It cannot harm us here," I answered.

"All round this court on three sides the buildings are of wood;
sheds and storehouses they are and of no account, but if one falls
across the well mouth--what then?"

"Then we are like to be stifled," said I; for even now the smoke
grew thicker, even so far down as we were. And when I looked out
and up there was naught but smoke across the well mouth, and with
that, sparks.

"Pent up and stifled both," said the quavering voice of the
sacristan from behind us. "How may we get out of this place till
men come and raise the ruin that will cover us? And who knows we
are here but ourselves?"

"Forgive me for bringing you to this pass," said the prior gravely,
after a little silence.

The smoke grew even denser, and we must needs cough, while the
tears ran from my eyes, for the stinging oak smoke seemed trapped
when once it was driven down the well.

"I have known men escape from worse than this," I said, thinking of
Lodbrok, and turning over many wild plans in my mind.

"I had forgotten this danger of wooden walls," said the prior to
himself, as it were. "Doubtless when this well chamber was made it
was without the inclosure."

Now it seemed to me that this could not be borne much longer, and
that soon the walls he dreaded would fall. So as one might as well
die in one way as another, I thought I would climb to the well's
mouth and see if there were any chance of safety for these two
monks. Yet I had no thought of aught but dying with them, if need
were, though as for myself I had but to walk across the courtyard
and go away. The Danes would but think I lingered yet for the sake
of plunder.

"If we may not stand this smoke, neither can the Danes," I said. "I
am going to see."

So I set down my axe and sword and leapt sailor-wise at the
rope--which the men had dropped again when they had taken the helm
from the bucket--catching it easily and swarming up to the
trapdoor. I only raised myself to the height of my eyes and looked
out.

I could see nothing. The dense smoke eddied and circled round the
court, and the Danes were gone, leaving us in a ring of fire on
three sides. The wooden buildings were blazing higher every moment,
and the heat seemed to scorch my head and hands till I could
scarcely bear it. But as the wind drove aside the smoke I could see
that the way to the rear gate, the last we had barred, was clear.
So I slid down and hung opposite the chamber. The monks looked out
at me with white faces.

"It may be done," I said. "Come quickly! it is the only chance."

The prior gave me the rope-ladder end without a word, not needing
to be asked for it; nor did I wait to say more, for at that moment
a roof fell in with a great crash, and a red glare filled the well
as the flames shot up, and the sparks and bits of burning timber
came down the shaft and hissed into the water below me.

I clomb up, fixed the ladder, and called down to the prior to bring
my arms with him. There was a burning beam not three feet from the
well mouth, part of the fallen roof that had slipped sideways from
it. The flames that shot up from the building were so hot that I
could barely abide them, and I shaded my face with both my hands,
crying again to the monks to come quickly.

In a few seconds came the sacristan, white and trembling--I had to
help him out of the well mouth. The prior was close to him; he was
calm, and even smiled at me as he saw me clutch my arms eagerly.

"To the rear gate," I said, turning and kicking the ladder into the
well, and thinking how cool the splash was compared with this
furnace of heat. "Kilt up your frocks and go swiftly, but run not,"
for in that smoke, save their long garments betrayed them, a man
might be armed or unarmed for all that one could see.

So, walking quickly, we came to the court entrance, and even as we
stood under its archway the building nearest the well fell with a
crash and rumble, covering the well mouth with a pile of blazing
timber. The smoke and flame seemed to wrap us round, while the
burning timber flew, and the Danes from the great courtyard yelled
with evil delight; but before that cloud had cleared away we three
were outside the monastery gate, and were safe.

"Just in time," I said.

But "Deo gratias" said the monks in a breath.

"Now run," said I, and into the nearest spur of woodland we went,
and stayed not till we were beyond reach of the yells of the
destroyers, who, as it seemed, had not even seen us.

When we were sure that we were not pursued, the prior took my arm
and pressed it.

"Thanks to you, my son, our people are safe, and we have come out
of yon furnace unscathed. May you find help in time of need as near
and ready. Now when I read the story of the Three Children, I think
I shall know all that they suffered, for we have been in like
case."

And I could make no answer, for it seemed to me that I had
forgotten that I was a Christian of late. And that was true.

Now the prior bade the sacristan hasten to Chichester and tell all
this to the sheriff, and he left us, while we went on alone.
Presently I asked who made the chamber in the well, for the silence
weighed on me, and my thoughts were not so lightsome.

"Doubtless by Wilfrith's men," he said, "and for the same turn it
has served us. For in his days there were many heathen round him,
and flight or hiding might be the last resort at any time."

Then I wondered, saying that I deemed that surely it was a greater
thing to be a martyr and to die, than to save life.

"Not always so," he answered, and then he told me of the ways of
holy men of old time. "We may by no means save life by denying our
faith, but we are bidden to flee into another place when
persecuted. We may not choose the place of our death, nor yet the
time."

So he showed me at last what it was to be truly a martyr, fearing
not, nor yet seeking death.

"Of a truth," he ended, "the Lord may need my death by the hand of
the heathen at some time, and when the time comes I shall know it,
and will die gladly. But while He gives me the power to save life
blamelessly, I know that He needs me on earth yet, though I am of
little worth."

So we were silent after that, ever going on through the woods. At
last he laughed a little, and looked sidewise at me.

"We two are alone," he said, "therefore I do not mind saying that I
have been fairly afraid--how felt you?"

"I would I might never be so frightened again," I answered, for
truly I had made myself so at one with this brave man that I had
forgotten that there was little fear for myself, as I have said,
unless that it had been Rorik's crew who had found us, for only a
few of them knew me.

We came now to a place where the trees thinned away on the brow of
a hill, and I could see the broad waters of the haven through their
trunks. We had reached the crest of that little cliff over which
Wilfrith's heathen had cast themselves in the great famine from
which he saved them.

"Let us see the last of Bosham," the prior said sadly. So we crept
through the fern and long grass, and lying down looked out over
haven and village. Even if a prying Dane looked our way he would
hardly see us thus hidden, or if he did would take us but for
villagers and care not.

Now I saw that the tide was on the turn, and that Halfden's
ship--my own ship, as I have ever thought her--had hauled out, and
her boats waited for the last of the crew at the wharf side. But
Rorik's ship was there still, and her men were busy rigging a crane
of spars as though they would lower some heavy thing on board her.
Nor could I guess what that might be.

Then I looked at the village, which was burning here and there, and
at the monastery. They had not fired the church, and the Danes
clustered round the tower doorway, busied with something, and I
could see them well, for the smoke from the burning buildings blew
away from us.

Now I asked the prior what heavy things worth carrying away might
be in the monastery.

"Naught," he said; "since they have drunk all the ale that was in
the cask or two we had.

"But," he added, "there is the great bell, it is the only weighty
thing else."

Then I knew what was toward, and said:

"I fear, Father, that your bell is going to be taken to become
metal for mail shirts, and axe heads, and arrowheads, and helms."

"Holy St. Wilfrith!" cried the monk, in great grief; "would that we
could have saved it. There is no such bell in all England, and if
they take it, many a sailor will miss its call through fog and
driving mist, and many a shepherd on yonder downs will wait for its
ringing, and be the wearier for lack thereof."

"Never have I seen bell too large for one man to handle," I said;
"this must be a wondrous bell!"

So it was, he told me, and while we watched the busy Danes, he
began to sing to me in low tones the song of Bosham bell which his
people would sing by the fireside.

"Hard by the haven,
Wilfrith the holy
Bade men a bell tower
Sturdily build.
Thence should a bell sound
Over the wide seas,
Homeward to hail
The hardy shipmen.
Thus was the bell wrought
By skilful workmen:
Into the fierce fire,
When it was founded,
Helm and harness
The warriors hove;
Willingly women,
The jewel wearers,
Golden and silver gauds
Gave for the melting;
And a great anchor
The seamen added.
Thus was a wealth
Of wondrous metal.
When all was molten
More grew its marvel!
Cast in a chalice,
Cuthred the priest."

"Aye, Father," said I, "that is a wondrous bell."

He nodded, and went on, with his eyes fixed on the monastery.

"Thus as the bell swings
Soothly it speaketh:
Churchward it calleth
With voice of the chalice,
Speaking to shipmen
With voice that is sea born.
Homeward the husband
Hailing with voices
Fresh from the fireside,
Where flashed the gold gifts--
Clashing the war call,
Clear with its warrior voice."

"That was the voice of the bell that sounded as we came," I
thought; and even as I would have said it, the bell of Bosham spoke
again, and the prior stopped with an exclamation, and pointed.

Out of the gateway came four Danes, bearing the bell between them,
and as they crossed the threshold, one stumbled, and the bell
clanged as they dropped it on the courtyard pavement. The tears ran
down the holy man's face as he saw this mishap to his beloved bell,
which was kept bright as when it was first founded, by the loving
hands of his people.

Now the Danes put it on that farm cart I had seen, and which they
had mended, and took the bell down to the wharf, and we watched
them sling it to the crane they had rigged, and place it amidships
on deck. Then they all went hastily on board, and put out into the
haven, down which Halfden's ship was already a mile distant, and
dancing on the quick waves of wind against tide where the waters
broadened into a wide lake.

Now when the ship was fairly under way, the prior rose up from
beside me, and lifting his hand, cursed ship and crew with so great
and bitter a curse that I trembled and looked to see the ship
founder at once, so terrible were his words.

Yet the ship held on her course, and the words seemed vain and
wasted, though I know not so certainly that they were so. For this
is what I saw when the ship met the waves of that wider stretch of
water that Halfden had now crossed.

She pitched sharply, and there was a bright gleam of sunlight from
the great bell's polished sides, and then another--and the ship
listed over to starboard and a wave curled in foam over her
gunwale. Then she righted again quickly, and as though relieved of
some weight, yet when a heavier, crested roller came on her she
rose to it hardly at all, and it broke on board her. And at that
she sank like a stone, and I could hear the yell that her men gave
come down the wind to me.

Then all the water was dotted with men for a little, and the bright
red and white of her sail floated on the waves for a minute, and
then all that was left of her were the masthead and yard--and on
them a few men. The rest were gone, for they were in their mail,
and might not swim. Only a few yet clung to floating oars and the
like.

"Little have these heathen gained from Bosham," said the prior, and
his eyes flashed with triumph. "Wilfrith the holy has punished
their ill doing."

So, too, it seemed to me, and I thought to myself that the weight
of that awesome curse had indeed fallen on the robbers.

Yet I know that, as I watched the ship in her trouble, in my own
mind I had been going over what was amiss, as any seaman will,
without thought of powers above. And I thought that the sharp
pitching of the vessel had cast the great bell from amidships,
where I had seen the Danes place it unsecured, against the frail
gunwale, first to one side, and then, with greater force yet,
against the other; so that it burst open gunwale and planking
below, and already she was filling when the wave came and ended
all. For these swift viking ships are built to take no heavy cargo,
and planks and timbers are but bound together by roots and withies;
so that as one stands on the deck one may feel it give and spring
to the blow of a wave, and the ship is all the swifter. But though
the outer planking is closely riveted together with good iron, that
could not withstand the crashing weight of so great a bell when it
was thus flung against it.

However that may have been--and thus I surely think it was--Bosham
bell passed not into the power of the heathen, but destroyed them;
and it lies at the bottom of the deepest reach of the haven whence
the depth and swiftness of the tide will hardly let men bring it
again. So I suppose that, profaned by heathen hands, it may no
longer call men from across the water and woodland to the church of
God.

Soon came the boats from Halfden's ship and picked up those who yet
clung to what they might of the wreck, and then ship and Danes
passed from Bosham haven, leaving the silent tower and burning
village to mark where they had been.

Then the prior sighed, and turning away, said:

"Let us go to Chichester and find shelter. Night comes soon, and
rest."

Sadly enough we went, though not for long: for when we came into
the roadway from the forest land, the prior put his heavy thoughts
aside, and spoke cheerfully to me.

"What is done is done; and but for you, my son, things would have
been worse. And their greed for the bell has made them spare the
church itself. Surely you must have fallen from the clouds to help
us--borne hither from the East Anglian land whose tongue bewrays
you."

"I marvel that you trusted me," I said.

"I trusted your face, my son, and when one is in a hard case the
first help is ever the best. Yet now I would fain know somewhat of
my good comrade."

Now I think that to any but this monk, with his friendly smile and
way of quiet authority, I should have been ashamed to own my part
with the Danes. But a few hours of companionship in danger knit
closer than many a long day of idleness together, and he seemed to
me as a near friend. Moreover, he had trusted me without question;
so I told him all my tale and he listened patiently.

"Now I am glad that I cursed not your friend's ship--for I forgot
her," he said, smiling.

At that I was glad, for how he would hold my being with the heathen
I somewhat doubted, and I told him so.

"Why, my son, I know not that you had much choice. And as for
fighting against outlanders--let me heft that axe of yours."

He took it, and it fell into his hands in a way that told me that
he, too, had been a stark fighting man at some time.

"Take it away, my son, take it away!" he cried, thrusting it back
on me; "I am not the man to blame you. And I know that much good
has come to us from your being with them. And from your talk about
martyrs I know that you have done no honour to their gods."

I said truly that the question had never come into my mind. For,
save as oath or war cry, the names of Thor and Odin were not heard.
They sacrificed on going to sea, and on return; and meanwhile cared
naught, so far as I knew, for none had questioned my faith.

He said it was well, and so talking we went on. And he said that, as
friend of his, none would question me, so that I should find all I
needed for my journey in the town. And when we came there--meeting
the sheriff's ill-armed levy on the way--we went to the house of a
great thane, and there were well and kindly received.

Yet once and again as I slept I dreamed and woke with the cry of
Rorik's men in my ears, and before me the bell seemed to flash
again as it crashed through the ship's side. And once I woke
thinking that the smell of burning was round me, and felt, half
awake, for the stone walls of the well chamber. But at last I slept
soundly and peacefully.



CHAPTER V. HOW WULFRIC, LODBROK, AND BEORN HUNTED.


When morning came it was great wonder and joy to me to wake and
find myself in England and free, for indeed I had begun to think of
my comradeship with the Danes as a sort of thralldom that I knew
not how to break. And now I longed to make my way back to Reedham
as soon as I might, for I had been many weeks away, though I have
said little of all that befell in that time beyond what was
needful. One thing saved me from grief that might have been, and
that was the knowledge that Ingild, the merchant, had not been told
to look for my coming, and that none at home would wonder if I were
long away, because of that plan of wintering our ship in the
Thames. And I knew that not one of my poor crew could have lived to
take news of the wreck.

That I must take back myself; and though I could not fairly be
blamed for loss of ship and crew, the thought of having to break
the tidings to those who would mourn for their lost ones was very
hard to me. But it must be done, and there was an end.

Now came to me, as I thought of these things, my friend the Prior
of Bosham, and he sat down beside me and asked how he could further
my plans. He himself must go to Selsea, there to see the bishop and
tell him all, not forgetting my part, as he said.

I told him that I only needed a horse, and that then I should ride
to London, where I had friends: and he asked me if I had money
wherewith to buy one, for he had none, else would he gladly do so
for me. And that reminded me of the bag which Halfden gave me, and
I opened it.

It was full of treasure--gold ornaments, and chains wherein were
set precious stones, and some gold coins and silver, and these were
the least value of all. But little pleasure had I in them, for I
knew too well how they came, and a thought came to me.

"Father," I said, "this comes from ruined towns on yonder
shore--take it and build up Bosham again. Aye, take it."

"Why, my son, here is treasure enough to build three villages like
ours," he said quietly; "for timber houses cost but labour in this
forest land, and there was naught else worth taking in the place."

"But your people are the poorer," I said; "I pray you take it for
their need, and for a new bell, moreover."

And so I urged him till he took the greatest gold chain, saying
that in honesty he could no more, for that would surely make Bosham
wish for more burnings if they turned out as this.

"Keep the rest and buy a new ship," he said, "and forget not that
always and every day your name will be remembered at the time of
mass in Bosham; and that may help you in days to come."

So he blessed me and departed, and I think that both of us were
light at heart, save for parting. And I have never seen the good
prior again, though his face and words I cannot forget.

Soon came one to lead me to the presence of the thane and his wife,
and from them I found kindness more than I could have looked for.
We broke our fast together, and then the lady asked me if I would
accept horse and gear for my journey from her, for she had heard
from the prior that I had been shipwrecked, who had also told her
all the story of our doings at Bosham.

Thanking her, I told her that though shipwrecked, I was yet rich,
having a store of wealth with me; for I thought that it was in the
minds of these kind people that I was in need.

"Be not proud," she said "bide with us for a while, and then take
horse and go. We hold that you have deserved well of all of us."

But I told her of my mother and sister at home, and how I would
fain be back with them, so she pitied me the more, saying that now
for their sakes she would hasten me.

"Aye, lad," said the thane, "we have sons of our own at court, and
the lady would that someone would pack them home on a good
horse--so she must not be denied."

Thus they persuaded me, and when I tried to thank them, the thane
laughed, and the lady said:

"Thank me not but in one way, and that is by asking your mother to
help homeward some other lady's son when need is. And that is all I
would wish."

And the end of it was that I rode away from Chichester town on a
good horse and with change of clothes in saddlebags, and those
worthy people stood at the gate to give me good speed.

Yet that is not the end, for there are one or two who have ridden
in like sort from Reedham since that day, and have borne home the
like message; so that I know not where the ending of that kindly
deed may be.

Past the old Chichester walls I went, and out on the long line of
the Roman street that should take me to London. And as I went I
sang, for the green beechen woods were wondrous fair to me after
the long weeks of changing sea, and it seemed to me that all was
going well, so that I put away for the time the grievous thought of
my shipwreck, the one hard thing that I must face when I came home
again.

There is nothing to tell of that ride; for well armed, and rich,
and with a good horse, what should there be? And at last I came to
London town, and rode straightway to the great house of my
godfather, Ingild, that stood by London Bridge. Very strange it was
to me to look out over the Pool as I crossed, and not to see our
good ship in her wonted place, for this was the first time I had
come to London except in her.

At the door of the courtyard, round which Ingild had his great
storehouses and sheds for goods, I drew rein, and two serving men
whom I knew well came out. Yet they knew me not, staring at my arms
and waiting for my commands.

So I spoke to them by name, and they started and then laughed,
saying that they must be forgiven for not knowing me in my arms,
for surely I had changed greatly since two years ago, when I was
last with them.

It was the same when Ingild himself came out, ample robed and
portly; for he gazed long at my helmed face, and then cried:

"Why, here is a marvel! Wulfric, my son, you have grown from boy to
man since last we met; and you come in helm and mail shirt and on
horseback, instead of in blue homespun and fur cap, with an oar
blister on either hand. How is this?"

Then he kissed me on both cheeks and led me in, running on thus
till a good meal was before me, with a horn of his mighty ale; and
then he let me be in peace for a little while.

Afterwards, as we sat alone together, I told him all that had
befallen, even as I would have told my father, for in my mind
Ingild, my godfather, came next to him and our king, and I loved
him well.

Sorely he grieved for loss of ship and goods and men, but he told
me that we were not the only seamen who had been hurt by that
sudden gale. Nor did he blame me at all, knowing that Kenulf was in
truth the commander of our ship. Rather was he glad that it had
chanced that I had left her and so was safe.

Then when I told him of my turning viking thereafter, he laughed
grimly, with a glitter of his eye, saying that he would surely have
done the same at my age--aye, and any young man in all England
likewise, were he worth aught.

So when I had told him all about my journey, I showed him the bag
that Halfden gave me, and well he knew the value of the treasure
therein.

"Why, son Wulfric," he cried; "here is wealth enough to buy a new
ship withal, as times go!"

And I would have him keep it, not being willing to take so great a
sum about with me, and that he did willingly, only asking me to let
him use it, if chance should be, on my behalf, and making me keep
the silver money for my own use going homeward.

"Yet I will keep you awhile, for Egfrid, the Thane's son of Hoxne,
who is here at court, goes home for Yuletide, and so you can ride
with him. And I think it will be well that we should send word to
your father of how things have been faring with you, for so will
you have naught of misfortune to tell when you come home."

I thought this wise counsel and kindly, for my people would best
tell those wives and children of their loss, and so things would be
easier for me. And Ingild sent writing to my father by the hand of
some chapman travelling to the great fair at Norwich; and with his
letter went one from me also, with messages to Lodbrok--for Eadmund
had made me learn to write.

So after that I abode with Ingild, going to the court of Ethelred
the King with him, and seeing the great feasts which the merchant
guilds made for the king while he was in London; with many other
wondrous sights, so that the time went quickly, and the more so
that this Egfrid was ever with me. I had known him when we were
little lads together at our own king's court, but he had left to go
to that of our great overlord, Ethelred, so that I had not seen him
for long years. And one may sail up our Waveney river to Hoxne,
where his father's house is, from ours at Reedham, though it is a
long way.

Now in the week before Yuletide we would start homewards, so with
many gifts and words of good speed, Ingild set us forth; and we
rode well armed and attended as the sons of great thanes should. So
the way was light to us in the clear December weather, and if it
were long the journey was very pleasant, for Egfrid and I grew to
be great friends, and there is nothing more joyous than to be
riding ever homeward through wood and over wild, with one whose
ways fit with one's own, in the days of youth, when cares are none
and shadows fall not yet across the path.

When we came to Colchester town we heard that Eadmund was yet at
Thetford, and when we asked more we learnt that Lodbrok was there
also with my father. So, because Hoxne was but twenty miles or
thereby from Thetford, both Egfrid and I were glad that our way was
yet together, and we would go there first of all.

One other thing we heard in Colchester, for we waited there for two
days, resting our horses. There was a wandering gleeman who came
into the marketplace on the hill top, and we stood and listened to
him.

And first he sang of how Danes had come and burnt Harwich town. But
the people told him to sing less stale news than that, for Harwich
was close at hand. Now it was Halfden's ship which had done that,
and the fires we saw before the fog came had been the beacons lit
because of his landing.

Then he made a great outcry until he had many folk to listen, and
they paid him well before he would sing. Whereon, forsooth, my ears
tingled, for he sang of the burning of Bosham. And when he came to
the stealing of the bell, his tale was, that it, being hallowed,
would by no means bear that heathen hands should touch it, so that
when it came to the deepest pool in the haven it turned red hot,
and so, burning a great hole through the Danish ship, sank to the
bottom, and the Danes were all drowned. Whereat the people
marvelled, and the gleeman fared well.

I suppose that the flashing of the great bell that I had seen gave
rise to this tale, and that is how men tell it to this day. And I
care not to gainsay them, for it is close enough to the truth, and
few know that I had so nearly a hand in the matter.

So we rode to Thetford, and how we were received there is no need
for me to tell, for I came back as it were from the dead, and
Egfrid after years of absence. And there with Eadmund were my
father and mother, and Eadgyth, and Lodbrok, and Egfrid's folk
also, with many more friends to greet us, and the king would have
us keep Yuletide with him.

It had been in my mind that Halfden would have come to Reedham, and
at first I looked for him, but he had not been heard of, so that
now we knew that we should not see him before springtime came, for
he must needs be wintering somewhere westward. Yet now Lodbrok was
at ease with us, seeing the end of his stay, and being in high
favour with our king, so that he was seldom away from his side in
all the hunting that went on.

That liked not Beorn, the falconer, and though he would be
friendly, to all seeming, with the Dane, it seemed to me that his
first jealousy had grown deeper and taken more hold of him, though
it might only be in a chance look or word that he showed it as days
went on.

But one night my father and I rode in together from our hunting,
and there was no one with us. We had been at Thetford for a month
now, since I came home, and there was a talk that the king would go
to the court of Ethelred at Winchester shortly, taking my father
with him for his counsellor, and so we spoke of that for a while,
and how I must order things at Reedham while he was away.

"Lodbrok, our friend, will go back with you," he said. "Now, have
you noted any envy at the favour in which he is held by Eadmund?"

"Aye, Father," I answered, "from Beorn, the falconer."

"So you, too, have had your eyes open," went on my father; "now I
mistrust that man, for he hates Lodbrok."

"That is saying more than I had thought."

"You have been away, and there is more than you know at the bottom
of the matter. The king offered Lodbrok lands if he would bide with
us and be his man, and these he refused, gently enough, saying that
he had broad lands of his own, and that he would not turn
Christian, as the king wished, for the sake of gain. He would only
leave the worship of his own gods for better reasons. Now Beorn
covets those lands, and has hoped to gain them. Nor does he yet
know that Lodbrok will not take them."

Then I began to see that this matter was deeper than I had thought,
and told my father of the first meeting of Lodbrok and Beorn. But I
said that the falconer had seemed very friendly of late.

"Aye, too friendly," said my father; "it is but a little while
since he held aloof from him, and now he is ever close to Lodbrok
in field and forest. You know how an arrow may seem to glance from
a tree, or how a spear thrust may go wide when the boar is at bay,
and men press round him, or an ill blow may fall when none may know
it but the striker."

"Surely no man would be so base!" I cried.

"Such things have been and may be again. Long have I known Beorn,
and I would not have him for enemy. His ways are not open."

Then I said that if Beorn was ever near Lodbrok, I would be nearer,
and so we left the matter.

There was one other thing, which was more pleasant, which we spoke
about at that time. And it was about the betrothal of my sister
Eadgyth. For it had come to pass that Egfrid, my friend, had sought
her hand, and the match pleased us all. So before the king and my
father went to Winchester there was high feasting, and those two
were pledged one to the other. Then was a new house to be built for
them at Hoxne, where the wedding itself should take place.

"Maybe Halfden will be here by that time," said Lodbrok to me. "I
wish, friend Wulfric, that honest Egfrid had not been so forward,
or that you had another fair sister."

Now though that saying pleased me, I could not wish for the wild
viking as husband to our gentle Eadgyth, though I loved him well as
my own friend. So I said that I thought Halfden's ship was his only
love.

"Maybe," answered the jarl; "but one may never know, and I think it
would be well for English folk and Danish to be knit together more
closely."

But when I asked him why this should be so, he only smiled, and
talked of friendliness between the two peoples, which seemed a
little matter to me at that time.

Now when the time came, my father having gone, we two, Lodbrok and
I, went back to Reedham, while my mother and Eadgyth stayed yet at
Thetford for the sake of Egfrid's new house building, for he would
have it built to suit her who should rule it.

Strange and grievous it was to me to see our shipyard empty, and
sad to have to tell the story of the good ship's loss to those
whose mourning was not yet over. Yet they were sailors' wives and
children, and to them death at sea was honourable, as is to a
warrior's wife that her husband should fall in a ring of foes with
all his wounds in front. And they blamed me not; but rather
rejoiced that I was safe returned.

Now without thought of any foe, or near or far, Lodbrok and I
hunted and hawked over our manors, finding good sport, and in a
little while I forgot all about Beorn, for I had seen him go in the
king's train as they rode out to Winchester.

Out of that carelessness of mine came trouble, the end of which is
hard to see, and heavily, if there is blame to me, have I paid for
it. And I think that I should have better remembered my father's
words, though I had no thought but that danger was far away for the
time.

We hunted one day alone together, and had ridden far across our
nearer lands to find fresh ground, so that we were in the wide
forest country that stretches towards Norwich, on the south of the
Yare. Maybe we were five miles from the old castle at Caistor.
There we beat the woods for roebuck, having greyhounds and hawks
with us, but no attendants, as it happened, and for a time we found
nothing, not being far from the road that leads to the great city
from the south.

Then we came to a thicket where the deer were likely to harbour,
and we went, one on either side of it, so that we could not see one
another, and little by little separated. Then I started a roe, and
after it went my hounds, and I with them, winding my horn to call
Lodbrok to me, for they went away from him.

My hounds took the roe, after a long chase, and I was at work upon
it, when that white hound that I had given to Lodbrok came leaping
towards me, and taking no heed of the other hounds, or of the dead
deer, fawned upon me, marking my green coat with bloodstains from
its paws.

I was angry, and rated the hound, and it fled away swiftly as it
came, only to return, whining and running to and fro as though to
draw me after it. Then I thought that Lodbrok had also slain a
deer, starting one from the same thicket, which was likely enough,
and that this dog, being but young, would have me come and see it.
All the while the hound kept going and coming, being very uneasy,
and I rated it again.

Then it came across me that I had not heard Lodbrok's horn, and
that surely the dog would not so soon have left his quarry. And at
that I hasted and hung the deer on a branch, and, mounting my
horse, rode after the hound, which at once ran straight before me,
going to where I thought Lodbrok would be.

When I came round the spur of wood that had first parted us I was
frightened, for Lodbrok's horse ran there loose, snorting as if in
terror of somewhat that I could not see, and I caught him and rode
on.

When I could see a furlong before me, into a little hollow of the
land that is there, before me was a man, dressed like myself in
green, and he was dragging the body of another man towards a
thicket; and as I saw this my horses started from a pool of blood
in which lay a broken arrow shaft.

At that I shouted and spurred swiftly towards those two--letting
the other horse go free--with I know not what wild thoughts in my
mind.

And when I came near I knew that the living man was Beorn, and that
the dead was Lodbrok my friend.

Then I took my horn and wound it loud and long, charging down upon
that traitor with drawn sword, for I had left my hunting spear with
the slain deer. He dropped his burden, and drew his sword also,
turning on me. And I saw that the blade was red.

Then I made no more delay, but leapt from my horse and fell upon
him to avenge myself for the death of him whom I loved. Would that
I had had the axe whose use he who lay there had taught me so well,
for then the matter would have been ended at one blow. But now we
were evenly matched, and without a word we knew that this fight
must be to the death, and our swords crossed, and blow and parry
came quickly.

Then I heard shouts, and the noise of men running behind me, and
Beorn cried:

"Stay us not, I avenge me of my friend," whereon I ground my teeth
and pressed on him yet more fiercely, wounding him a little in the
shoulder; and he cried out for help--for the men who came were
close on us--and the well-cast noose of a rope fell over my
shoulders, and I was jerked away from him well-nigh choked.

Two men ran past me and took Beorn, throwing up his sword with
their quarterstaves, and it seemed to me that it was done over
gently. Then they bound us both and set us on the ground face to
face.

"Now here be fine doings!" said a man, who seemed to be the leader
of the six or seven who had ended the fight.

"Aye, 'tis murder," said another, looking from Beorn to me and then
to Beorn again; "but which is murderer and which true man?"

Now all these men were strangers to me, but I knew one thing about
them from their dress. They were the men of mighty Earl Ulfkytel
himself, and seemed to be foresters, and honest men enough by their
faces.

"I am Wulfric, son of Elfric of Reedham," I said. "The slain man is
Lodbrok, the Danish jarl, and this man slew him."

"He lies!" cried Beorn. "It was he who slew him, and I would
revenge myself on him, for this Lodbrok was my friend."

Now I held my peace, keeping back my wrath as well as I might, for
I began to see that Beorn had some deep plot on hand, thus to
behave as if innocent.

"Why, so he cried out as we came," said one of the men when he
heard Beorn's words.

"Maybe both had a hand in it," the leader said, and so they talked
for a little.

Then came two of my own serfs, who had followed me to see the
sport, I suppose, at a distance, as idle men will sometimes, when
hunting is on hand, and with them came Lodbrok's dog, the same that
had brought me. And when the dog saw Beorn he flew at him and would
have mauled him sorely, but that the earl's men beat him off with
their staves; and one took the leash that hung from my saddle bow
and tied him to a tree, where he sat growling and making as though
he would again fly at the falconer.

"Whose dog is this?" asked the leader.

"His," answered the serfs, pointing to Lodbrok.

"Dogs might tell strange tales could they talk," said the earl's
man; "I misdoubt both these men. Let us take them to the earl for
judgment."

"Where is the earl?" I asked.

"At Caistor," answered the man shortly, and I was glad that he was
so near, for the matter would be quickly settled and I could go
free.

"Unbind me, and I will go where you will," I said, but at that
Beorn cried out.

"Loose him not, loose him not, I pray you!"

"Tie their hands behind them and let us be gone," was the answer,
and they did so, loosing my feet, and setting us on my horse and
Lodbrok's. And some of the men stayed behind with my serfs to make
a litter on which to carry my friend's body, and follow us to
Caistor. So as I went I cried quickly to those two men of mine that
they should go in all haste to Reedham and tell what had befallen
me to our steward, who would know what to do.

"Reedham is too far for a rescue to reach you in time," said the
leader of the earl's men grimly; "think not of it."

"I meant not that, but to have witnesses to speak for me."

"That is fair," said the man, after a little thought, "we will not
hinder their going."

Then they led us away, and presently reached that place where I had
seen the broken arrow, and one picked it up, saying that here was
surely the place where the deed was done, and that the arrow would
maybe prove somewhat. And I think that here Beorn had shot the
jarl, for all around those other marks on the grass were the
hoofmarks of the rearing and frightened horse, and there were many
places where an archer might lie unseen in the thickets, after
following us all day maybe, as Beorn must have done, thus to find
fitting chance for his plan when we two were far apart. And surely,
had it not been for the dog, I think the fate of Lodbrok would have
been unknown for many a long day, for but for him Beorn would have
hidden his deed and ridden off before I had known aught.

Now, as the man handled the broken arrow, walking beside me, I saw
it plainly, and knew it for one of my own, and one of four that I
had lost at Thetford, though I did not know how.

At that I seemed to see all the plot, and my heart sank within me,
for this Beorn was most crafty, and had planned well to throw doubt
on me if things by ill chance fell out as they had, and so I rode
in silence wondering what help should come, and whence. And I
thought of Halfden, and what he should think when he heard the tale
that was likely to be told him, and even as I thought this there
was a rushing of light wings, and Lodbrok's gray falcon--which I
had cast from my wrist as I fell on Beorn--came back to me, and
perched on my saddle, for my hands were bound behind me. She had
become unhooded in some way.

Then Beorn cried out to the men to take the falcon, for it was his,
and that he would not have her lost; and that angered me so that I
cried out on him, giving him the lie, and he turned pale as if I
were free and could smite him. Whereon the men bade us roughly to
hold our peace, and the leader whistled to the falcon and held out
his hand to take her. But she struck at him and soared away, and I
watched her go towards Reedham, and was glad she did so with a sort
of dull gladness.

For I would have no man pass through a time of thoughts such as
mine were as they took me to Caistor--rage and grief and fear of
shame all at once, and one chasing the other through my mind till I
knew not where I was, and would start as from a troubled dream when
one spoke, and then go back to the same again as will a sick man.
But by the time we reached Caistor I had, as it seemed to me,
thought every thought that might be possible, and one thing only
was plain and clear. I would ask for judgment by Eadmund the King,
and if that might not be, then for trial by battle, which the earl
would surely grant. And yet I hoped that Beorn's plot was not so
crafty but that it would fail in some way.

So they put me in a strong cell in the old castle, leading Beorn to
another, and there left me. The darkness came, and they brought me
food, so I ate and drank, being very hungry and weary; and that
done, my thoughts passed from me, for I slept heavily, worn out
both in body and mind.



CHAPTER VI. THE JUSTICE OF EARL ULFKYTEL.


An armed jailor woke me with daylight, bringing me food again, and
at first I was dazed, not knowing where I was, so heavy was my
sleep. Yet I knew that I woke to somewhat ill.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Under Caistor walls, surely," he said; and I remembered all.

The man looked friendly enough, so that I spoke again to him,
asking if the great earl was here, and he said that he was.

"What do men say?" I asked then.

"That the matter is like to puzzle the earl himself, so that it is
hard for a plain man to unriddle. But I think that half Reedham are
here to see justice done you; even if it is naught but Earl
Ulfkytel's justice!" And he grinned.

I knew why. For Ulfkytel was ever a just man, though severe, and
his justice was a word with us, though in a strange way enough. For
if a case was too hard for him to decide in his own mind, he would
study to find some way in which the truth might make itself known,
as it were. Nor did he hold much with trial by hot water, or heated
ploughshares, and the like; finding new ways of his own contriving,
which often brought the truth plainly to light, but which no other
man would have thought of. So that if a man, in doing or planning
some ill to another, was himself hurt, we would laugh and say:
"That is like the earl's justice".

So though Ulfkytel was no friend of my father's, having, indeed,
some old quarrel about rights of manor or the like, I thought
nothing of that, save that he would the sooner send me to the king
for trial.

The jailor told me that I should be tried at noonday, and went
away, and so I waited patiently as I might until then, keeping
thought quiet as best I could by looking forward and turning over
what I could say, which seemed to be nothing but the plain truth.

At last the weary waiting ended, and they took me into the great
hall of the castle, and there on the high seat sat the earl, a
thin, broad-shouldered man, with a long gray beard and gray eyes,
that glittered bright and restless under shaggy eyebrows. Beorn,
too, was brought in at the same time, and we were set opposite to
one another, to right and left of the earl, below the high place,
closely watched by the armed guards, bound also, though not
tightly, and only as to our hands.

And there on a trestle table before us lay the body of Jarl
Lodbrok, my friend, in whose side was my broken arrow. All the
lower end of the hall was filled with the people, and I saw my two
serfs there, and many Reedham folk.

Then the court was set, and with the earl were many men whom I knew
by sight, honest thanes and franklins enough, and of that I was
glad.

First of all one read, in the ears of all, that of which we two who
were there bound were accused, giving the names of those half-dozen
men who had found us fighting and had brought us for judgment.

Then said Earl Ulfkytel:

"Here is a matter that is not easy in itself, and I will not hide
this, that the father of this Wulfric and I are unfriendly, and
that Beorn has been a friend of mine, though no close one.
Therefore is more need that I must be very careful that justice is
not swayed by my knowledge and thoughts of the accused. So I put
that away from me; I know naught of these two men but what I hear
from witnesses."

Some people at the end of the hall sought to praise the even
handedness of that saying loudly, but the earl frowned and shouted:

"Silence!--shall a judge be praised for doing right?"

"Then," said he, growing quiet again, and speaking plainly and
slowly that all might hear, "this is how the matter stands. Here
are two men found fighting over the body of a third who is known,
as men say, to have been friendly with both. No man saw the
beginning of the business. Now we will hear what was seen, but
first let this Wulfric speak for himself;" and he turned his bright
eyes on me.

Now I told him all the truth from the time when I parted from
Lodbrok until the men came.

Then the earl asked me:

"Why thought you that Beorn slew the man?"

"Because there was no other man near, and because I know that he
bore ill will towards him for the favour shown him by the king."

"So," said Ulfkytel; "now let Beorn speak."

Then that evil man, being very crafty, did not deny my words, but
said that he had found the body lying with my arrow in its side.
And though he knew not why I had done the deed, for the sake of his
friendship with my father and myself he would have hidden it, and
even as he did so I came, falling on him. Whereon he grew wroth,
and fought.

"It seems to me," said the earl, "that a word from you should
rather have made Wulfric help you and thank you; not fall on you.
Now let the witnesses say their say."

So they stood forward, telling naught but the truth, as honest men.
And they seemed to think much of Beorn's having cried out for
revenge. Also they showed the arrow, which fitted exactly to the
headed end which was in Lodbrok's side, and was the same as two
that were in my quiver with others. Now if Beorn shot that arrow he
must have made away with both bow and quiver, for he had none when
we were taken.

Then one of the other thanes said that the dead man had another
wound, and that in the throat, and it was so, Whereon the jailer
was bidden to bring our swords, and it was found that both were
stained, for I had wounded Beorn a little, as I have said.

"Is Wulfric wounded then?" asked Ulfkytel.

And I was not.

"Whence then is Beorn's sword stained?" he asked.

Then came my two thralls, and spoke to the truth of my story, as
did one of the men who had stayed with them, for he too had seen
the deer hanging where I had left it, nearly a mile away from where
the fight was. And my men added that they had seen me riding to
that place, and had followed the call of my horn.

"Murderers do not call thus for help," said the earl. "What more?"

"Only that Lodbrok's dog flew at Beorn;" they said.

Then my steward and others told the story of my saving of Lodbrok,
and there were one or two who knew how closely Beorn seemed to have
sought his friendship. There was no more then to be said.

All the while Ulfkytel had watched my face and Beorn's, and now he
said:

"The arrow condemns Wulfric, but any man might pick up a good arrow
that he had lost. And the sword condemns Beorn, but there are many
ways in which it might be bloodstained in that affair. Now, were
these two robbers, I would hold that they were fighting over
division of booty, but they are honourable men. Wherefore I will
have one more witness who knows not how to lie. Fetch the dog."

So they brought Lodbrok's dog, which the serfs had with them, and
they loosed it. It ran to his body first and cried over it, pulling
his coat with its paws and licking his face, so that it was pitiful
to see it, and there were women present who wept thereat.

Then it left him and came to me, thrusting its nose into my hand,
but I would not notice it, for justice's sake; but when it saw
Beorn, it bristled up, flying at his throat so that he fell under
it, and the guards had much ado in getting it off, and one was
bitten.

"The dog condemns Beorn," said the earl, "but Wulfric bred it."

After that he would have no more witness; but now should each of us
lay hand on the body and swear that he was guiltless.

They brought a book of the Holy Gospels and put it on Lodbrok's
breast, and first I laid my hand thereon, looking into the quiet
face of the man whose life I had saved, and sware truly.

Then must Beorn confess or swear falsely, and I looked at him and
his cheek was pale. But he, too, laid hand on the dread book in its
awful place and sware that he was innocent--and naught happened.
For I looked, as I think many looked, to see the blood start from
the wound that he had given the jarl, but it was not so. There was
no sign. Then crossed my mind the first doubt that I had had that
Beorn was guilty. Yet I knew he lied in some things, and the doubt
passed away quickly.

Then Ulfkytel pushed away the table from before him so that it fell
over.

"Take these men away," he said. "I have heard and seen enough. I
will think!"

They led us away to the cells again, and I wondered how all this
would end. In an hour they brought us back, and set us in our
places again. The earl had more to say, as it seemed.

"Will you two pay the weregild {xi} between you?"

"No, Lord Earl," I said; "that were to confess guilt, which would
be a lie."

Then Beorn cried:

"I pray you, Wulfric, let us pay and have done!"

But I turned from him in loathing.

"Ho, Master Falconer," said Ulfkytel, "the man is an outlander! To
whom will you pay it? To Wulfric who saved his life?"

Now at that Beorn was dumb, seeing that the earl had trapped him
very nearly, and he grew ashy pale, and the great earl scowled at
him.

"Let me have trial by battle," I said quietly, thinking that it
would be surely granted.

There was as good reason to suspect me as Beorn, as I saw.

"Silence, Wulfric!" said the earl. "That is for me to say."

"Let the king judge, I pray you, Lord Earl," I went on, for he
spoke in no angry tone, nor looked at me.

However, that angered him, for, indeed, it was hard to say whether
king or earl was more powerful in East Anglia. Maybe Eadmund's
power came by love, and that of the earl by the strong hand. But
the earl was most loyal.

"What!" he said in a great voice, "am I not earl? And shall the
king be troubled with common manslayers while I sit in his seat of
justice? Go to! I am judge, and will answer to the king for what I
do."

So I was silent, waiting for what should come next.

But he forgot me in a minute, and seemed to be thinking.

At last he said:

"One of these men is guilty, but I know not which."

And so he summed up all that he had heard, and as he did so it
seemed, even to me, that proofs of guilt were evenly balanced, so
that once again I half thought that Beorn might be wronged in the
accusation, as I was.

"So," he ended, "friend has slain friend, and friends have fought,
and there is no question of a third man in the matter."

He looked round on the honest faces with him, and saw that they
were puzzled and had naught to say, and went on:

"Wherefore, seeing that these men have had trial by battle already,
which was stopped, and that the slain man was a foreigner from over
seas and has no friends to speak concerning him, I have a mind to
put the judgment into the hands of the greatest Judge of all. As
Lodbrok the Dane came by sea, these men shall be judged upon the
sea by Him who is over all. And surely the innocent shall escape,
and the guilty shall be punished in such sort that he shall wish
that I had been wise enough to see his guilt plainly and to hang
him for treachery to his friend and the king's, or else to put him
into ward until some good bishop asks for pardon for ill doing."

And with that half promise he looked sharply at us to see if any
sign would come from the murderer.

But I had naught to say, nor did I seem to care just now what
befell me, while Beorn was doubtless fearful lest the wrath of
Eadmund the King should prevail in the end were he to be imprisoned
only. So he answered not, and the earl frowned heavily.

Now one of the franklins there, who knew me well enough, said:

"Wulfric, be not ashamed to confess it, if for once you shot
ill--if your arrow went by chance to Lodbrok's heart, I pray you,
say so. It may well be forgiven."

Very grateful was I for that kind word, but I would not plead
falsely, nor, indeed, would it have told aught of the other wound
that had been made. So I shook my head, thanking the man, and
saying that it was not so.

Now I think that the earl had planned this in order to make one of
us speak at the last, and for a moment I thought that Beorn was
about to speak, but he forbore. Then Ulfkytel sighed heavily and
turned away, speaking in a low voice to the thanes with him, and
they seemed to agree with his words.

At length he turned to us and spoke gravely:

"It is, as I said, too hard for me. The Lord shall judge. Even as
Lodbrok came shall you two go, at the mercy of wind and wave and of
Him who rules them. You shall be put into Lodbrok's boat this
night, and set adrift to take what may come. Only this I lay upon
you, that the innocent man shall not harm the guilty. As for
himself, he need, as I think, have no fear, for the guilty man is a
coward and nidring {xii}. Nor, as it seems to me, if all may be
believed, can the guiltless say for certain that the other did it."

Then was a murmur of assent to this strange manner of justice of
Earl Ulfkytel's, and I, who feared not the sea, was glad; but Beorn
would have fallen on the ground, but for his guards, and almost had
he confessed, as I think.

"Eat and drink well," said Ulfkytel, "for maybe it is long before
you see food again."

"Where shall you set them afloat?" asked a thane.

"Am I a fool to let men know that?" asked the earl sharply. "There
would be a rescue for a certainty. You shall know by and by in
private."

The guards took us away, and unbinding our hands, set plenty of
good food and drink before us. And for my part I did well, for now
that I knew the worst my spirits rose, and I had some hopes of
escape, for there was every sign of fair weather for long enough.
And viking ways had taught me to go fasting for two days, if need
be, given a good meal to start upon.

But Beorn ate little and drank much, while the guards bade him take
example from me, but he would not; and after a while sat silent in
a corner and ghastly to look upon, for no one cared to meddle with
him.

As soon as it grew dusk they bade us eat again, for in half an hour
we should set forth to the coast. At that Beorn started up and
cried out, wringing his hands and groaning, though he said no word,
except that I should surely slay him in the boat.

Then I spoke to him for the first time since he had claimed the
falcon, and said that from me, at least, he was safe. And I spoke
roughly, so that I think he believed me, so plain did I make it
that I thought one who was surely cowardly in word and deed was not
worth harming, and he ceased his outcry.

At last we were set on horseback, and with two score or more
mounted spearmen round us, we rode quickly out of Caistor town. A
few men shouted and ran after us, but the guards spurred their
horses, and it was of no use for them to try and follow. And the
night was dark and foggy, though not cold for the time of year.

I feared lest we were going to Reedham, for there my folk would
certainly rise in arms to rescue me, and that would have made
things hard for them; but we went on southward, riding very fast,
until after many long miles we came to the little hill of the other
Burgh that stands where Waveney parts in two streams, one eastward
to the sea, and the other northward to join the Yare mouth.

The moon had risen by the time we came there, and I could see a
large fishing boat at the staithe, and, alas! alongside of her a
smaller boat that I knew so well--that in which Lodbrok had come,
and in which I had passed so many pleasant hours with him. Then the
thought crossed my mind that what he had taught me of her was like
to be my safety now; but my mind was dazed by all the strange
things that came into it, and I tried not to think. Only I wondered
if Ulfkytel had got the boat without a struggle with our people.

The earl was there with a few more thanes and many more guards, and
they waited by the waterside.

One man started from beside the earl as we came, and rode swiftly
towards us. It was Egfrid, my brother-in-law to be--if this did not
bring all that fair plan to naught.

He cried out to the men to stay, and they, knowing who he was, did
so, and made no trouble about his coming to my side. There he
reined up his horse, and laid his hand on my shoulder.

"Alas for this meeting, my brother!" he cried. "What can I do? Men
came and told me of rumour that was flying about concerning this
business, and I have ridden hard to get to Reedham, but I met the
earl, who told me all. And I have prayed him to let the king judge,
but he will not, saying that his mind is fixed on higher
judgment--and you know what he is."

Then I said:

"So that you hold me not guilty, my brother, I mind not so much;
for if I must die you will take my place, and my father will not be
without a son.

"I think you guilty!" he cried; "how could that be? Shame on me
were I to dream thereof--and on any man of all who know you who
would deem you could be so."

"Have you heard all?"

"Aye, for the earl has told me very patiently, being kind, for all
his strange ways. At last I told him that his wish for justice
blinded his common sense. And at that, instead of being wrath, he
smiled at me as on a child, and said, 'What know you of justice?';
so that I was as one who would beat down a stone wall with his
fists---helpless. He is not to be moved. What can I do?" and almost
did he weep for my hard case.

"Let things go their own way, my brother," I said gently. "I do not
fear the sea, nor this man here--Beorn. Do you go to Reedham and
tend Lodbrok's hawk for me, and send word to my father, that he may
come home, and to the king, so that Lodbrok may have honourable
burial."

He promised me those things, and then went back upon the slaying of
Lodbrok, asking how it came about.

I told him what I thought thereof; and Beorn, who must needs listen
to all this, ground his teeth and cursed under his breath, for
there seemed to have come some desperate fury on him in place of
his cold despair of an hour since.

And when Egfrid had heard all, he raised his hand and swore that
not one stone of Beorn's house should be unblackened by fire by
this time tomorrow night, and as he said it he turned to Beorn,
shaking and white with wrath.

"Let that be," I answered him quickly; "no good, but much harm may
come therefrom. Wait but six months, and then maybe I shall be
back."

Now while we had thus spoken together, Ulfkytel had dismounted and
was holding some converse with a man whose figure I could not well
make out, even had I cared to try, in the dark shadow of horses and
riders which stayed the moonlight from them. But at this time the
stranger came towards us, and I saw that it was the priest who
served the Church of St. Peter, hard by where we stood. He came to
Beorn first, and spoke to him in a low voice, earnestly; but Beorn
paid no sort of heed to him, but turned his head away, cursing yet.
So after a few more words, the priest came to me.

"Wulfric," he said, "sad am I to see you thus. But justice is
justice, and must be done."

"Aye, Father," I answered, "and right will prevail."

"Maybe we shall see it do so," he answered shortly, not seeming
willing to hold much converse with me; "but it is likely that you
go to your death on the wide sea. Many a man have I shriven at the
point of death--and Ulfkytel the Earl will not hold me back from
your side--an you will."

Thereat I was very glad, for I knew that the risks before me were
very great, and I said as much.

Then he took the bridle of my horse and began to lead me on one
side, and the guards hindered him until Ulfkytel shouted to them to
draw aside in such wise as to prevent my riding off, though, bound
as I was, it had been of little use to try to do so. Then they let
the priest take me out of earshot, and maybe posted themselves in
some way round us, though I heeded them not.

So then in that strange way I, bound and on horseback, confessed;
and weeping over me at last, with all his coldness forgotten, the
priest of Burgh shrived me and blessed me, bidding me keep a good
heart; for, if not in this world, then at the last would all be
made right, and I should have honour.

After that he went once more to Beorn, but he was deaf to his
pleading, and so he went away to the church, speaking no word to
any man, and with his head bent as with the weight of knowledge
that must not be told, and maybe with sorrow that the other
prisoner, if guilty, would not seek for pardon from the Judge into
whose hand he was about to go.

But as for me, this thing was good, and a wondrous comfort to me,
and I went back to Egfrid with a cheerful heart, ready to face
aught that might come.

Now the earl called to the guards from the water's edge, saying
that the time was come, and we rode towards him, and I made Egfrid
promise that he would hold his hand, at least till my father came.

Now they drew my boat to the shore, and they took Beorn from his
horse first, and often have I wondered that he did not confess, but
he said no word, and maybe his senses had left him by reason of his
terror. They haled him to the boat and unbound him, setting him in
the bows, where he sank down, seeming helpless, but staring away
from shore over the sparkling waters that he feared.

Then came my turn, and of my own will I stepped into the boat,
looking her over to see that all was there as when Lodbrok came.
And all was there, though that was little enough. The one oar, the
baler, and a few fathoms of line on the floorboards.

Now as I had nothing to lose by speaking, I cried to the earl
concerning the one matter that troubled me.

"Earl Ulfkytel, I pray you forgive my poor folk if they fought for
me when you took the boat."

"They knew not why it was taken," he answered quietly. "I sent a
messenger before I gave sentence. But I should not have blamed them
had they fought, knowing all."

Then a rough man who tended the boat called out:

"Ho, Lord Earl, are these murderers to go forth with gold on arm
and hand?" for we had been stripped of naught but our arms, and I
suppose the man coveted these things.

But the earl answered:

"Which is the murderer? I know not. When his time comes stripped he
will be of life itself. Let the men be," and then in a moment he
asked one by him; "what weapons had Lodbrok when he came?"

"Only a dagger," answered the thane to whom he spoke. "Or so men
say."

"That is true," I said plainly.

"Give the men their daggers," then said the earl; and when one told
him that we should use them on each other, he answered:

"I think they will not; do my bidding!"

So they threw my hunting knife to me, and I girded it on. But
Beorn's dagger fell on the floor of the boat, and he paid no heed
to it, not even turning his head.

Then the earl and three thanes went on board the fishing boat, and
Egfrid would fain have come with him. But I signed him back, and
when the fishermen put out oars and pushed from the shore, towing
us with them, he ran waist deep into the water, and clasped my hand
for the last time, weeping.

Then the shore grew dim to my eyes, and I put my head in my hands
and would look no more. Soon I heard only the wash and creak of the
large boat's oars, and a murmured word or two from those on board
her. Then from Burgh Tower came the tolling of the bell, as for the
dying, and that was the last voice of England that I heard as we
went from shore to sea.

But at that sound came hope back to me, for it seemed to me as the
voice of Bosham bell calling for help that should come to myself,
as I had been called in time of need by the like sound to the help
of St. Wilfrith's men. And straightway I remembered the words of
the good prior, and was comforted, for surely if St. Wilfrith's
might could sink the pirate ship it would be put forth for me upon
the waters. So I prayed for that help if it might be given, and for
the Hand of Him who is over all things, even as the prior had
bidden me understand.

Whereupon I was in no more trouble about myself, and now I began to
hope that the still weather might even bring Halfden's ship to find
me.

So we passed from river to broad, and from broad to sea, and went
in tow of the fishing boat until we came to that place, as nearly
as might be, where I had saved Lodbrok. I could see the sparkle of
our village lights, or thought I could.

There they cast us off, and for a few minutes the two boats lay
side by side on the gently-heaving water, for the wind was
offshore, and little sea was running.

Then the earl rose up, lifting his hand and saying, very solemnly:

"Farewell, thou who art innocent. Blame not my blindness, nor think
ill of me. For I do my best, leaving you in the Hand of God, and
not of man!"

So he spoke; then the oars swung and fell, and in a few moments his
boat was gone into the shoreward shadows and we were alone, and I
was glad.

Now I looked at Beorn, and I thought him strangely still, and so
watched him. But I soon saw that he was in some sort of fit or
swoon, and paid no heed to aught. Yet I thought it well to take his
dagger from where it lay, lest he should fall on me in some frenzy.

I took up the weapon, and straightway I longed to draw it and end
his life at once, while all sorts of plans for escape thereafter
came into my mind. But I could not slay a helpless man, even this
one, though I sat fingering the dagger for a long while. At last
the evilness of these thoughts was plain to me; so quickly I cast
the dagger overboard, and it was gone.

Then I thought I would sleep while I might, for there was no sea to
fear, and the tide set with the wind away from shore from the river
mouth, as I knew well, for it was ebbing. It was weary work to
watch the land growing less and less plain under the moon. Yet I
feared Beorn's treachery, and doubted for a while, until the coil
of rope that lay at my feet caught my eye as I pondered. With that
I made no more ado, but took it and bound him lightly, so that at
least he could not rise up unheard by me. Nor did he stir or do
aught but breathe heavily and slowly as I handled him. When he
roused I knew that I could so deal with him that I might unbind
him.

After that I slept, and slept well, rocked by the gentle rise and
fall of the waves, until daylight came again.



CHAPTER VII. HOW WULFRIC CAME TO JUTLAND.


It was Beorn who woke me. Out of his swoon, or whatever it was that
had taken his senses, he woke with a start and shudder that brought
me from sleep at once, thinking that the boat had touched ground.
But there was no land in sight now, and all around me was the wide
circle of the sea, and over against me Beorn, my evil companion,
glowering at me with a great fear written on his face.

Now as I woke and saw him, my hand went at once to the dagger at my
side, as my first waking thoughts felt troubled by reason of all he
had done, though it was but for a moment. Thereat he cried out,
praying me to have mercy on him, and tried to rise, going near to
capsize the boat. Indeed, I cannot believe that the man had ever
been in a boat before.

"Lie down," I said, speaking sharply, as to a dog, "or you will
drown us both before the time!"

He was still enough then, fearing the water more than steel, as it
seemed, or seeing that I meant him no harm.

Then I spoke plainly to him.

"I will harm you not. But your life is in my hands in two ways. I
can slay you by water or dagger for one thing; or for another, I
think I can take this boat to shore at some place where you are not
known, and so let you live a little longer. And in any case I have
a mind to try to save my own life; thus if you will obey me so that
I may tend the boat, yours shall be saved with it, so far as I am
concerned. But if you hinder me, die you must in one way or
another!"

Now he saw well enough that his only hope lay in my power to take
the boat safely across the water, and so promised humbly to obey me
in all things if I would but spare him and get the boat to shore
quickly. So I unbound him and coiled the rope at my feet again,
bidding him lie down amidships and be still.

Many a time men have asked me why I slew him not, or cast him not
overboard, thus being troubled no more with him. Most surely I
would have slain him when we fought, in the white heat of
anger--and well would it have been if Ulfkytel had doomed him to
death, as judge. But against this helpless, cringing wretch, whose
punishment was even now falling on him, how could I lift hand? It
seemed to me, moreover, that I was, as it were, watching to see
when the stroke of doom would fall on him, as the earl said it
surely must on the guilty.

The wind freshened, and the boat began to sing through the water,
for it needed little to drive her well. My spirits rose, so that I
felt almost glad to be on the sea again, but Beorn waxed sick and
lay groaning till he was worn out and fell asleep.

Now the breeze blew from the southwest, warm and damp, as it had
held for a long time during this winter, which was open and mild so
far. And this was driving us over the same track which Lodbrok had
taken as he came from his own place. There was no hope of making
the English shore again, and so I thought it well to do even as the
jarl, and rear up the floorboards in such wise as to use them for a
sail to hasten us wherever we might go.

So I roused Beorn, and showed him how to bestow himself out of my
way, and made sail, as one might say. At once the boat seemed to
come to life, flying from wave to wave before the wind, and I made
haste to ship the long oar, so that I could steer her with it.

And when I went aft, there, in the sharp hollow of the stern that I
had uncovered, lay two great loaves and a little breaker of water.
Now I could not tell, and do not know even to this day, what kindly
man hid these things for us, but I blessed him for his charity, for
now our case was better than Lodbrok's in two ways, that we had no
raging gale and sea to wrestle against, and the utmost pangs of
hunger and thirst we were not to feel. Three days and two nights
had he been on his voyage. We might be a day longer with this
breeze, but the bread, at least, we need not touch till tomorrow.
But Beorn slept heavily again, and I told him not of this store as
yet, for I thought that he would but turn from it just now. Which
was well, for he could not bear a fast as could I.

So the long day wore through, and ever the breeze held, and the
boat flew before it. Night fell, and the dim moon rose up, and
still we went east and north swiftly. The long white wake stretched
straight astern of us, and Beorn slept deeply, worn out; and the
sea ran evenly and not very high, so that at last I dared to lash
the oar in its place and sleep in snatches, waking now and then to
the lift of a greater wave, or catching the rushing in my ears as
some heavier-crested billow rose astern of us. But the boat was
swift as the seas, and there was nothing to fear. Nor was the cold
great at any time, except towards early morning before the first
light of dawn. Moreover, the boat sailed in better trim with two
men in her.

Gray morning came, and the seas were longer and deeper, for we were
far on the wide sea. All day long was it the same, wave after wave,
gray sky overhead, and the steady breeze ever bearing us onward.
Once it rained, and I caught the water in the bailer and drank
heartily, giving his fill to Beorn, and with it I ate some of my
loaf, and he took half of his. Then slowly came night, and at last
I waxed lonely, for all this while I had kept a hope that I might
see the sail of Halfden's ship, but there was no glint of canvas
between sky and sea, and my hope was gone as the darkness fell.

So I sang, to cheer myself, raising my voice in the sea song that I
had made and that Lodbrok had loved. And when that was done I sang
the song of Bosham bell, with the ending that the gleeman on
Colchester Hill had made.

Thereat Beorn raised his head and, snarling at me like an angry
dog, bade me cease singing of shipwreck. But I heeded him not, and
so I sang and he cursed, until at last he wept like an angry child,
and I held my peace.

I did not dare sleep that night, for the wind freshened, and at
times we might see naught but sky above us and the waves ahead and
astern of the boat, though to one who knew how to handle his craft
there was no danger in them. But from time to time Beorn cried out
as the boat slid swiftly down the slope of a great wave, hovered,
and rose on the next, and I feared that he would leap up in his
terror and end all.

"Bide still or I will bind you," I said at last to him, and he hid
his face in his arms, and was quiet again.

Worn out when day broke was I, and again I ate and gave to Beorn,
and he would eat all his loaf, though I bade him spare it, for I
knew not how long yet we might be before we saw land. And that
seemed to change his mood, and he began to scowl at me, though he
dared say little, and so sat still in his place, glowering at me
evilly.

Presently came a whale, spouting near us, and that terrified him,
so that he cried to me to save him from it, as though I had power
on the seas more than had other men. But it soon went away, and he
forgot his terror, beginning to blame me for not having gained the
shore yet.

I could say nothing, for I knew not how far we had run; yet we had
come a long way, and I thought that surely we must have sailed as
swiftly as Lodbrok, for the sea had favoured us rather than given
trouble. Even now I thought the colour of the water changed a
little, and I began to think that we neared some land at last.

As the sun set, the wind shifted more to the westward, and I
thought a change was coming. It was very dark overhead until the
waning moon rose.

Now, soon after moonrise Beorn began to groan, in his sleep as I
thought; but presently he rose up, stiffly, from long sitting, and
I saw that his eyes were flashing, and his face working strangely
in the pale moonlight. I bade him lie down again, but he did not,
and then I saw that he was surely out of his mind through the
terror of the sea and the long nothingness of the voyage to which
he was all unused. Then he made for me with a shout, and I saw that
I must fight for my life. So I closed with him and dragged him down
to the bottom of the boat, and there we two struggled, till I
thought that the end was come.

The boat plunged and listed, and once was nearly over, but at that
new strength came to me, and at last I forced his shoulders under
the midship thwart, and held him there so that he could by no means
rise. Then all his fury went, and he became weak, so that I reached
out with one hand for the line and bound him easily, hand and foot.
I set him back in his place, and the water washed over his face as
he lay, for we had shipped a good deal in the lurches our struggle
caused. Then he was still, and as on the first night, seemed to
sleep, breathing very heavily.

So I left him bound, and bailed the water out. Then knew I how weak
I was. Yet I held on, steering from wave to wave as though I could
not help it.

Once, towards morning, there came a booming in my ears, and a
faintness, for I was all but done. But the boat dashed into a wave,
and the cold spray flew over me and roused me to know the danger,
so I took my last crust and ate it, and was refreshed a little.

But when the morning broke cold and gray over brown waves, there,
against one golden line of sunlight, rose the black steady barrier
of a low-lying coast, and round the boat the gulls were screaming
their welcome.

Then came over me a dull fear that I should be lost in sight of
land, and a great sorrow and longing for the English shore in place
of this, for never had I seen sunrise over land before from the
open sea, and hunger and thirst gnawed at me, and I longed for rest
from this tossing of sea, and wave--and always waves. Then I looked
in Beorn's evil face, and I thought that he was dead, but that to
me seemed to matter not.

Swiftly rose up the coast from out the sea, and I saw that it was
like our East Anglian shore, forest covered and dark, but with pine
and birch instead of oak and alder. The boat was heading straight
through a channel; past sands over which I could see the white line
of the tide on either side, and that chance seemed not strange to
me, but as part of all that was to be and must be.

Then the last rollers were safely past, and the boat's keel grated
on sand--and I forgot my weakness, and sprang out into the shallow
water, dragging her up with the next wave and out of reach of the
surges.

Then I saw that the tide was falling, and that I had naught more to
do, for we were safe. With that I gave way at last, and reeled and
fell on the sand, for my strength could bear no more, and I deemed
that I should surely die.

I think that I fell into a great sleep for a while, for I came to
myself presently, refreshed, and rose up.

The tide had ebbed a long way, and the sun was high above me, so
that I must have been an hour or two there upon the sand. I went
and looked at Beorn.

His swoon seemed to have passed into sleep, and I unbound him, and
as I did so he murmured as if angry, though he did not wake.

Then I thought that I would leave him there for some other to find,
and try to make my way to house or village where I might get food.
I could send men thence to seek him, but I cared not if I never set
eyes on him again, hoping, indeed, that I should not do so.

So I turned and walked inland through the thin forest for a little
way, stumbling often, but growing stronger and less stiff as I
went, though I must needs draw my belt tight to stay the pangs of
hunger, seeing that one loaf is not overmuch for such a voyage and
such stern work as mine had been, body and mind alike unresting.

Nor had I far to go, for not more than a mile from shore I saw a
good hut standing in a little clearing; and it was somewhat like
our own cottages, timber-framed, with wattle and clay walls, but
with thatch of heather instead of our tall reeds, and when I came
near, I saw that the timber was carved with twisted patterns round
door and window frames.

No dog came out at me, and no one answered when I called, and so at
last I lifted the latch and went in. There was no one, but the
people could not be far off, for meat and bread and a great pitcher
of ale stood on the round log that served for table, as if the meal
was set against speedy homecoming, and the fire was banked up with
peats, only needing stirring to break into a blaze.

Rough as it all was, it looked very pleasant to me, and after I had
called once or twice I sat down, even as I should have done in our
own land, and ate a hearty meal, and drank of the thin ale, and was
soon myself again. I had three silver pennies, besides the gold
bracelet on my arm that I wore as the king's armour bearer and
weapon thane, and was sure of welcome, so when I had done I sat by
the fire and waited till someone should come whom I might thank.

Once I thought of carrying food to Beorn, but a great hatred and
loathing of the man and his deed came over me, and I would not see
him again. And, indeed, it was likely that he would come here also,
as I had done, when he woke; so that when at last I heard footsteps
I feared lest it should be he.

But this comer whistled cheerfully as he came, and the tune was one
that I had often heard men sing when I was with Halfden. It was the
old "Biarkamal", the song of Biark the Viking.

Now at that I was very glad, for of all things I had most feared
lest I should fall on the Frisian shores, for if so, I should
surely be made a slave, and maybe sold by the lord of the coast to
which I came. But Danes have no traffic in slaves, holding freedom
first of all things. And that is one good thing that the coming of
the Danish host has taught to us, for many a Saxon's riches came
from trading in lives of men.

Then the door was pushed open, for I had left it ajar, and in came
a great dog like none we have in England. I thought him a wolf at
first, so gray and strong was he, big enough and fierce enough
surely to pull down any forest beast, and I liked not the savage
look of him. But, though he bristled and growled at first sight of
me, when he saw that I sat still as if I had some right to be
there, he came and snuffed round me, and before his master came we
were good friends enough, if still a little doubtful. But I never
knew a dog that would fly at me yet, so that I think they know well
enough who are their friends, though by some sign of face or voice
that is beyond my knowledge.

Now came the man, who edged through the door with a great bundle of
logs for the fire, which he cast down without looking at me, only
saying:

"Ho, Rolf! back again so early? Where is the Jarl?"

Now I knew that he was a Dane, and so I answered in his own way:

"Not Rolf, but a stranger who has made free with Rolf's dinner."

Whereat the man laughed, setting hands on hips and staring at me.

"So it is!" he said; "settle that matter with brother Rolf when he
comes in, for strangers are scarce here."

Then he scanned my dress closely, and maybe saw that they were sea
stained, though hunting gear is made for hard wear and shows
little.

"Let me eat first," he said, sitting down, "and then we will talk."

But after he had taken a few mouthfuls, he asked:

"Are there any more of you about?"

"One more," I said, "but I left him asleep in the boat that brought
us here. We are from the sea, having been blown here."

"Then he may bide till he wakes," the man said, going on with his
meal.

Presently he stopped eating, and after taking a great draught of
ale, said that he wondered the dog had not torn me.

"Whereby I know you to be an honest man. For I cannot read a man's
face as some can, and therefore trust to the dog, who is never
wrong," and he laughed and went on eating.

Now that set me thinking of what account I might give of myself,
and I thought that I would speak the truth plainly, though there
was no reason to say more than that we were blown off the English
coast. What Beorn would say I knew not; most likely he would lie,
but if so, things must work themselves out.

I looked at the man in whose house I was, and was pleased with him.
Red haired and blue eyed he was, with a square, honest face and
broad shoulders, and his white teeth shone beneath a red beard that
covered half his face.

When he had eaten even more than I, he laughed loudly, saying that
brother Rolf would have to go short this time, and then came and
sat by the fire over against me, and waited for me to say my say.

So I told him how we had come, and at that he stared at me as our
folk stared at Lodbrok, and started up, crying that he must go and
see this staunch boat that had served me so well.

"Bide here and rest," he said, "and I will bring your comrade to
you," and with that he swung out of the house, taking the dog with
him. And at once the thought of leaving the hut and plunging into
the forest came into my mind, but I knew not why I should do so,
except that I would not see Beorn again. However, there was a third
man now, and I would see what befell him.

Now I waited long, and had almost fallen asleep beside the warm
fire, when I heard a horn away in the woods, and roused up to
listen. Twice or thrice it sounded, and then I heard it answered
from far off. So I supposed that there was a hunt going on.

Then I heard no more, and fell asleep in earnest; for I needed rest
badly, as one might well suppose.

Something touched my hand and I awoke. It was the great dog, who
came and thrust his nose against me, having made up his mind to be
friendly altogether. So when his master came in I was fondling his
head, and he looked puzzled.

"Say what men will," he said, "I know you are an honest man!"

"Do you hold that any will doubt it?" I asked, wondering what he
meant; for he looked strangely at me.

"Aye; the jarl has found your boat, and has sent me back to keep
you fast. Know you whose boat you have?"

"It belonged to Jarl Lodbrok, who came ashore in it, as I have come
here--and he gave it me."

"Hammer of Thor!" said the man. "Is the jarl alive?"

"What know you of him?" I asked.

"He was our jarl--ours," he answered.

"Who is the other jarl you speak of?" I asked him, with a hope that
Halfden had come home, for now I knew that we had indeed followed
Lodbrok's track exactly.

"How should it be other than Ingvar Lodbroksson? for we have held
that Lodbrok, his father, is dead this many a long day."

"Let me go to the jarl," I said, rising up. "I would speak with
him," for I would, if possible, tell him the truth, before Beorn
could frame lies that might work ill to both of us, or perhaps to
me most of all. Yet I thought that I saw the shadow of judgment
falling on the murderer.

"Bide quiet," said the man; "he will be here soon."

And then he said, looking from me to the dog, "Now I hold you as a
true man, therefore I will tell you this--anger not the jarl when
he speaks to you."

"Thanks, friend!" I answered heartily, "I think I shall not do
that. Is he like his father?"

The man laughed shortly, only saying:

"Is darkness like daylight?"

"Then he is not like Jarl Halfden."

Now the honest man was going to ask in great wonder how I knew of
him, when there came the quick trot of horses to the door, and a
stern voice, which had in its tones somewhat familiar to me, called
him:

"Raud, come forth!"

My host started up, and saying, "It is Jarl Ingvar," went to the
door, while I too rose and followed him, for I would not seem to
avoid meeting the son of Lodbrok, my friend.

"Where is this stranger?" said the jarl's voice; "bring him forth."

Raud turned to beckon me, but I was close to him, and came out of
the hut unbidden.

There sat a great man, clad in light chain mail and helmed, with
his double-headed axe slung to his saddle bow, but seeming to have
come from hunting, for he carried a short, broad-pointed boar
spear, and on the wrist of his bridle hand sat a hooded hawk like
Lodbrok's. His face had in it a look both of his father and of
Halfden, but it was hard and stern; and whereas they had brown
hair, his was jet black as a raven's wing. Maybe he was ten years
older than Halfden.

There were five or six other men, seemingly of rank

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