Wulfric the Weapon Thane, Charles W. Whistler [ebook reader web .txt] 📗

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