Wulfric the Weapon Thane: A Story of the Danish Conquest of East Anglia, Whistler [best ebook reader for laptop .TXT] 📗

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