CHAPTER XV. HOW ERPWALD SAW HIS FIRST FIGHT ON HIS WEDDING DAY.
So we went to Glastonbury in a little time, and now it was as if Yuletide had come again in high summer, so full was the little town with guests who came to the wedding. Erpwald had come soon after us, with a train of Sussex thanes, who were his neighbours and would see him through the business, and take him and his bride home again. Well loved were the ealdorman and his fair daughter, and this was the first wedding in the new church, of which all the land was proud.
Only Ina was somewhat uneasy, though he would not shew it. For on all the Wessex border from Severn Sea to the Channel there was unrest. It seemed that the hand of Gerent had altogether slackened on his people, so that they did what they listed, and it was even worse than it had been in the days of Morgan and his brother, for at least they were answerable for what the men of Dyvnaint wrought of harm. There was none to take their place here, while the old king bided in Exeter or in Cornwall, and never came to Norton at all now. So there was pillage and raiding across the Parrett, and at last Ina had sent messages to Gerent concerning it.
A fortnight ago that was, and now the messengers had returned, bearing word from Gerent that he himself would come and speak to Ina of Wessex and answer him, and it was doubtful what that answer meant. There might well be a menace of war therein, or it might mean that he was only coming to Norton. It would not be the first time that the two kings had met there and spoken with one another in all friendliness concerning matters which might have been of much trouble. And we heard at least of no gathering of forces by the Welsh.
Yet Ina warned all the sheriffs of the Wessex borderland, and could do no more. The levies would come up at once when the first summons came.
All of which the ealdorman spoke to me of, but neither Erpwald nor Elfrida knew that war was in the air. We did not tell them. Thus we hoped to keep all knowledge that aught was unrestful from them in their happiness, until at least they two were beyond the sound of war, if it needs must come.
But it came to pass on the day before the wedding that all men knew thereof in stern truth, and that was a hard time for many.
Erpwald and I sat on the bench before the ealdorman's house in the late sunshine of the long July evening, talking of the morrow, and of Eastdean, and aught else that came uppermost, so that it was pleasant to think of, and before us we could see the long road that goes up the slope of Polden hills and so westward toward the Devon border. Along it came a wain or two laden high with the first rye that was harvested that year, and a herd or two of lazy kine finding their way to the byres for the evening milking. And then beyond the wains rose a dust, and I saw the waggoners draw aside, and the dust passed them, and the kine scattered wildly as it neared them; and so down the peaceful road spurred a little company of men who shouted as they came, never drawing rein or sparing spur for all that the farm horses reared and plunged and the kine fled terror stricken.
I think that I knew what it meant at once, but Erpwald laughed and said: "More of our guests, belike. One rides fast to a bridal, but they are over careless."
But I did not answer, for the hot pace of those who came never slackened, and spurring and with loose rein they swept across the bridge over the stream and so thundered toward us.
"Here is a hurry beyond a jest," said Erpwald, sitting up; "somewhat is amiss, surely."
Never rode men in that wise but for life. In a minute they were close, and one of them spied me and called to me, waving his arm toward the palace and reeling in his saddle as he did so. His arm was bandaged, and I saw that the spear his comrade next him bore was reddened, and that the other two had leapt on their horses with nought but the halter to guide them withal, as if in direst need for haste. Not much longer could their horses last as it seemed.
I sprang up and followed to the king's courtyard, leaving Erpwald wondering, and a footpath brought me there almost as they drew rein inside the gates. One of the horses staggered and fell as soon as he stayed, and his rider was in little better plight. That one who had beckoned to me knew me, and spoke at once, breathless:
"Let us to the king, Thane. The Welsh--the Welsh!"
"An outlaw raid again?" I asked.
"Would I come hither in this wise for that?" the man answered.
He was a sturdy franklin from the Quantock side of the river--one whose father had been set there by Kenwalch.
"I can deal, and have dealt, with the like of them, but this is war. They are on us in their thousands, and I have even been burnt out for being a Saxon, by a raiding party."
"Whence?"
"From Norton," answered another of the men. "Gerent, their king, is there with a host beyond counting. One fled from across the hills and told us, and we believed him not till the raiders came."
With that I took the men straightway to the king, bidding the house-carles hold their peace awhile. And even as we talked with this party, another man rode in from the Tone fenlands, and he had seen the march of the West Welsh men, and knew that Gerent's force was halted at Norton. A swift and sudden gathering, and a swift march that was worthy of a good leader, else had we heard thereof before this.
After that man came another, and yet another, till all the courtyard was full of reeking horses and white-faced men, and the ealdorman was sent for and Nunna; and in an hour or less the war arrow was out, and the news was flying north and south and east, with word that all Somerset was to be here on the morrow to hold the land their forebears had won from those who came.
Presently with the quiet of knowing all done that might be done on us, the ealdorman and I went down to his house.
"Here is an end of tomorrow's wedding," he said sadly. "I do not know how Elfrida will take it, for it is not to be supposed that Erpwald will hold back from the levy, though, indeed, if ever man had excuse, he has it in full."
I knew that he would not, also, and said nothing. He was yet sitting on the settle where I had left him waiting for me, with the level sun in his face as it sank across the Poldens, and he looked content with all things.
"What a coil and a clatter has been past me, surely," he said. "I doubt there must be a raid over the border, from what I hear the men shouting."
"More than that, friend," I said gravely, looking straight at him. "The Welsh are on us in all earnest, and tomorrow we must meet them somewhere yonder, where the sun is setting."
He looked at me, and his face flushed redder and redder.
"What, fighting in the air?" he said, with a sort of new interest.
"War,--nothing more or less," answered Herewald with a groan.
"I am in luck for once," he said, leaping up. "Let me go with you, Oswald; for this is what I have never seen."
"Hold hard, son-in-law," cried the ealdorman. "What of the wedding?"
His face fell, and he stared at us blankly, but his cheek paled.
"Forgive me," he said. "I never can manage to keep more than one thing in my head at a time. Here was I thinking of nought but that, until this news came and drove out all else. Don't tell Elfrida that I forgot it."
"Trouble enough for her without that," answered Herewald. "You cannot hold back, maybe, though indeed, not one will think the worse of you if you do so. We must tell Elfrida what has befallen, however, and she must speak her mind on your doings. Come, let us find her."
"Do you speak first, Ealdorman," I said, and he nodded and went his way.
Erpwald and I followed him into the hall, and there stayed. He was long gone thence to the bower where Elfrida sat with her maidens preparing for the morrow.
"What will she say?" asked Erpwald presently.
"I think that she will bid you fight for the king, though it will be hard for her to do so."
"I hope she will, though, indeed, I should like to think that it will not be easy for her to send me away," said the lover, torn in two ways. "How long will it take to settle with these Welsh?"
"I cannot tell," I said, shaking my head.
For, indeed, though I would not say it, a Welsh war is apt to be a long affair if once they get among the hills.
"If we have the victory, I think that the wedding will not be put off for so very long," I added to comfort him.
He walked back and forth across the hall until Herewald came back, and then started toward him.
"Go yonder and speak with her," the ealdorman said, pointing to the door whence he came.
Then he went hastily, and we two looked at one another.
"How is it with her?" I said.
"In the way of the girl who helped you slay Morgan," he said grimly. "She would hold him nidring if he had not wished to go."
We went to the door and looked out. All the road was dotted with men from the nearer villages who came to the gathering, and as they marched, each after the reeve of the place, they sang. And past the hindmost of them came a single horseman hurrying. Another messenger with the same news, doubtless.
Then there were footsteps across the hall behind us, and Elfrida and Erpwald came to us. I stole one glance at her, and saw that she hid her sorrow and pain well, though it was not without an effort. She spoke fast, and seemingly in cheerful wise, as we turned to her.
"Father, here is this Erpwald, who will go to the war, and I cannot hold him back. What can you say to him?"
"Nought, surely. For if he will not listen to you, it is certain that he will hearken to none else."
She laughed a little strained laugh, and turned to Erpwald.
"You must have your own way, as I can see plainly enough; and our wedding must needs wait your pleasure. Even my father will not help to keep you here."
"But, Elfrida--it was your own saying--" the poor lover went no further, for he was beyond his depth altogether.
It would seem that this was not the way in which she had spoken to him when they were alone. So I went to help him.
"We will take care of him, Elfrida," I said, trying to laugh; "but I think that he is able to do that for himself fairly well."
Then I was sorry that I had spoken, for it was a foolish speech, seeing that it brought the thought of danger more closely to her than was need, or maybe than she had let it come to her yet. She turned into the half-darkness of the hall again, and after her went Erpwald. The ealdorman and I went to the courtyard and left them, feeling that we need say no more.
Then through the dusk that horseman whom we had noted clattered up, and called in a great voice to us, asking if we knew where he should find Oswald the marshal, and I answered him and went out into the road to him. And there sat Thorgils, fully armed, on a great horse that was white with foam, but had been carefully ridden.
"Ho, comrade! have you heard the news?" he said, gripping my hand.
"Twenty times in half an hour," I answered. "But is there somewhat fresh?"
"Have any of your twenty told you that these knaves of Welsh have broken peace with us, tried to burn Watchet town--and had their heads broken?"
"News indeed, that," said I. "What more?"
"If you Saxons will stand by us, your kin, it may be worth your while. Here have I ridden to tell you so."
Then I hurried him to the king, for this was a matter worth hearing. Watchet was on Gerent's left flank, and a force there was a gain to us indeed, if only by staying the force at Norton for a day longer. We should have so much the more time in which to gather the levies.
But, seeing that they were not yet gathered, it did not at first seem possible to Ina that we could help to save the little town, whose few men had beaten off today's attack, but would be surely overwhelmed by numbers on the morrow if Gerent chose. But Thorgils had not come hither without a plan in his head, and he set it before the king plainly.
"Norton is on the southern end of the Quantocks, and Watchet is at the northern end, as you know, King Ina. Between the two on the hills is the great camp which any force can hold, but nought but a great one can storm. If you will give me two hundred men, I will have that camp by morning, and that will save Watchet, and maybe hold back Gerent in such wise that he will not care to pass it without retaking it. He will not know how few of us will be there, and you will be able to choose your own ground for the fighting while he bethinks him. There is but one road into Wessex across the Quantocks, and we shall seem to menace that while we cover the way to Watchet."
"So the camp is held?" asked Ina. "Gerent is before me there."
"Held by the men we beat off from Watchet, King. One we took tells us that they had no business to fall on our town, but turned aside to do it. Gerent has little hold on some of his chiefs. Now they are there with a fear of us and our axes on them, and if we may fall on them unawares we can take the camp without trouble, as I think."
"Oswald," said Ina, after a little thought, "how many horsemen can you raise now?"
The town was full of horses by this time, and I thought that it would not be hard to raise a hundred, and that in half an hour. Maybe if we did go with Thorgils we should meet many more men on the way to the levy also.
"Then you shall go with Thorgils," the king said. "It is a risk, certainly, but it is worth it. We had held that camp, had we had but a day's earlier warning, and that loss may be made good thus. That outlaw of yours will know many a safe place of retreat for you if need is. Good luck be with you."
He shook hands with us both, and we did not delay. His only bidding was that we should hold the camp until we had word from him, if we took it, and he was to learn thereof by signal.
So it came to pass that in an hour and a half Thorgils and I and Erpwald, who would by no means let me go without him, and three of his Sussex friends, rode across the causeway to the Polden hills in the dusk, with a matter of six score men behind us, well armed and mounted all--for these borderers have need to keep horse and arms of the best, and those ever ready.
From the ealdorman's door Elfrida watched us go very bravely, and the glimmer of her white dress was the lodestar that kept the eyes of her lover turned backward while it might be seen. It vanished suddenly, and he heaved a deep sigh, and I knew that she had been fain to watch no longer lest her tears should be seen.
As we went along the Polden ridge we met flying men, and men who came to the levy, and by twos and threes we added to our little force, until we had a full hundred more than when we started.
Thorgils took us to a tidal ford that crosses the Parrett River far below any bridge, which he thought would not yet be watched by the Welsh. There is a steep hill fort that covers this ford, but on it were no fires as of an outpost yet. Then we were a matter of eight miles from the great camp on the highest ridge of the Quantocks which we had to take, and we had ridden five-and-twenty miles. I was glad that we had to wait an hour or more for the fall of the tide before we could cross, for we rode fast thus far.
So we dismounted and watched the slow fall of the water, and we planned what we would do presently; until at last we splashed through the muddy ford, and rode on through dense forest land until the great camp rose above us, a full thousand feet skyward, and we saw the glow of the watch fires of those who held it. It seemed almost impossible to scale this hill as we looked on its slope in the darkness, but we reached its foot where the hill is steepest, and held on northward yet, until we came to where there is a long steady rise up to the very gate of the earthworks.
Now there should have been an outpost halfway along this slope toward the camp, for whatever tribe of the Britons made the stronghold had not forgotten to raise a little fort for one. But we were in luck, for this outpost was not held, and we rode past it, and knew that there was every chance now of our fairly surprising the camp. The first grey of dawn was coming when I passed the word to the men to close up, and told them what we were to do.
"We charge through the earthworks, for there is no barrier across the gate, and spread out across the camp with all the noise we can. Follow a flight for no long distance beyond the earthworks, but scatter the Welsh."
So we rode on steadily until we were but a bow shot from the trench, and yet no alarm was raised, for the foe watched hardly at all, deeming that no Saxon force would think of crossing where we crossed the river, or of coming on them from the north at all.
Then Thorgils and I and Erpwald rode forward, and I gave the word to charge, and up the long smooth slope we went at the gallop, with a heavy thunder of hoofs on the firm turf of the ancient track. And that thunder was the first sign that the Welsh knew of our coming.
I saw one come to the gateway and look, and then with a wild howl throw himself into the outer ditch for safety, and the camp roared with the alarm, and the dim white figures flocked to the rampart, and through a storm of ill-aimed arrows we rode through the unguarded gate and were on them.
"Ahoy!--Out, out!--Holy Cross!"
The war shouts of Norseman and South Saxon and Wessex men were in startling medley together here, and that terrified the Welsh yet more. It must have seemed to them that the Norsemen had called unheard of allies to their help. There was no order or rallying power among them.
We three were first through the gateway, and then we were riding across the camp with levelled spears, over men and through the fires, and a panic fell on the foe, so that without waiting to see what our numbers were, in headlong terror they fled from the charge over the ramparts and into the forests in the valleys on either side beyond whence we came. I had no fear of their rallying thence to any effect, for it would take them all their time to find their leaders in the combes and the thick undergrowth that clothed their sides. Once out of the camp, too, they could not see into it to tell how few we were.
I suppose that there were some five hundred Welsh in the place. I do not think that we harmed many of them in the hurry and the dark, but we scared them terribly. Here and there one rolled under the horses' hoofs, and we paid no heed to such as fell thus, and they rose again and fled the faster. All but one, that is, so far as I was concerned. I charged a man, and my spear missed him as he leapt aside, and he struck at my horse as I passed him, and the next moment I was rolling on the ground with the good steed, and the man behind me had to leap over us as we lay. That was one of the Sussex thanes, and he was no mean horseman or unready, luckily. Then he chased my enemy out of the camp, and came back to see if I were hurt. But I was not, and I bade him go on with the rest. We were almost across the camp at this time.
"Take my horse rather," he said. "See, there is a bit of a stand being made yonder."
There were yet some valiant and cooler-headed Welshmen whom the panic had not carried away, and they were getting together to our right. The camp was full three hundred paces across, and as we spread over it our line had gaps here and there, so that some at least had seen what our numbers were. They had passed into the camp again over the earthworks, or had been passed by in the place by us, and they were gathering round one who wore the crested helm and gilded arms of a chief, and he was raving at the cowards who had left him. Even now he had not more than a score of men with him.
Our men were chasing the flying foe across the open hilltop now, outside the camp, and there were but few left within its enclosure, though I saw the dim forms of some who were turning back without going beyond the rampart, and one of these was Erpwald. He also saw the group of Welshmen, and called the other horsemen to him, and even as the chief saw us two standing alone together, and led his few toward us, the shout of the four or five who charged with my friend stayed them, and they closed up to meet the new attack.
Then the Sussex thane, whose name was Algar, saw this, and again urged me to take his horse, saying that it was not fitting for the leader to be dismounted while work was yet in hand; but I saw a thing that bade me forget him, and set me running at full speed toward the Welshmen. Erpwald had ridden well ahead of his comrades, and as his spear crossed those of the foe one of them stepped forward before his chief and made a sweeping blow at the legs of the horse with a long pole-axe. Down the horse came, and Erpwald flew over its head into the midst of the enemy, overthrowing one or two of them as if he had been a stone from a sling.
In a moment they closed over him, but I was there before they could get clear of one another to slay him. I cut my way through the turmoil before they knew I was on them, and stood over him sword in hand, while the Welsh shrank back for a space with the suddenness of my coming. There was Algar also hewing at them and trying to reach my side, having dismounted, and those who followed Erpwald were on them with their long spears. It was more as a shouting than a fight for a moment or two, but Erpwald never moved, being stunned, as it seemed. It was like to go hard with me for a time, for my men could not reach me. Still, I held the Welsh back from Erpwald and myself.
There was a great shout of "Ahoy," and I saw from beyond the ring round me the rise and fall of a broad axe, and then Thorgils was at my back, and close behind him was Evan. More of our men were coming up fast to where they heard the noise; but the foe were minded to make a good fight of it, and only to yield when there was no shame in doing so.
"It is no bad thing to have a good axe at one's back," quoth Thorgils in a gruff shout between his war cries as he hewed, and with that I heard the said axe crash on a foe again.
Then I had the chief before me, and his men fell back a little to make way for him to me. Our swords crossed, and I took his first thrust fairly on the shield and returned it, wounding him a little, and he set his teeth and flew at me, point foremost, with the deadly thrust of the Roman weapon. That the shield met again, and I struck out over his guard and he went down headlong. And at that his men made a wild rush on me, yelling. At that time I saw Thorgils, with a great smile on his face, smite one man to his right with the axe edge, and another on his left with the blunt back of the weapon as he swung it round, and Evan saved me from a man who was coming on me from behind. That is all I know of the fight, save that it seemed that I heard some cry for quarter, for of a sudden I went down across Erpwald for no reason that I could tell.
It was full daylight when I came round, and the first thing that my eyes lit on was the broad face of Erpwald, who sat by my side with a woebegone look that changed suddenly to a great grin when he saw me stir and look at him. Then I saw Evan also watching me, with his arm tied up, and I was fain to laugh at his solemn face of trouble. Whereon from somewhere behind me Thorgils cried in his great seafaring voice:
"There now, what did I tell you two owls? His head is too hard to mind a bit of a knock like that."
Then he came and laughed at me, and I asked what sent me over.
"The pole-axe man hit you with the flat of his unhandy weapon. It is lucky for you that he was a bungler, however, for there is a sore dint in your helm."
I sat up and looked round the camp. There was a knot of captives in its midst, among whom was the chief I had fought, wounded, indeed, but not badly, and our men were eating the enemy's provender and laughing. A fire of green brushwood and heather was sending a tall pillar of smoke into the air to tell the watchers on the Poldens and at Watchet that we had done what we came to do. But here we had to stay till we heard from Ina that we were to join him, and for Erpwald's sake and Elfrida's I was not sorry.
He had seen his first fight, and nearly found his end therein. I do not know how I could have looked Elfrida in the face again had he indeed risen no more from that medley. But I thought that he made more than enough of my coming to his rescue. It was only a matter of holding back a crowd till help came.
"All very well to put it in that way, comrade," said Thorgils; "but where does my axe come in? You are not fair, for, by Thor's hammer, Erpwald, both of you had been mincemeat but for that."
"Nay," said I, laughing; "you and I were those who held back the crowd. I could not have done it alone."
"But you did, though," the Norseman answered at once. "Nevertheless, it was as well that I happened up in good time."
Now we rode across the nearer hills until we could see into the fair valley which men call Taunton Deane since those days, and we saw the answering fires which told us that all was well at Watchet, for we had saved the little town. Not until Gerent learned how few we were here would he dare to divide his forces. Far off to the southward in the valley we could see the blue reek of his campfires, and it would seem that he had not yet moved on the Wessex border.
All the day we waited and watched, anxious and restless, but no attack came on us here, and the smoke of the camp grew no thinner at Norton. A few Norsemen rode up to us from Watchet, and they said that no move was on hand yet, so far as they could tell. And at last, as the sun was setting, and shone level on the slope of the Poldens, above which the Tor of Glastonbury sent a waving wreath of smoke into the air to bid Wessex gather against the ancient foe, we saw the long line of sparkling helms and spear points as our host marched from hill to causeway to the bridge that spans the Parrett. Ina would hold the heights above Norton before morning.
But that made it the more needful that we should bide here till we were sent for, seeing that we guarded the flank of our advance; and hard it was to sit still and do it, with a battle pending yonder. It was a long night to us, and hungry.
Early in the next morning there was heavy smoke on these hills that told of burning on the line of our march, and there was more away toward the far Blackdown hills, as if there were trouble beyond Tone. And in the afternoon there fell a strange stillness on the woods round us, and I wondered. There was never a buzzard or kite, raven or crow, left in all the woodland, and then I minded that overhead lately the birds of prey had all flown in one direction, and that toward where Norton lay.
It was the cry of the kite and the voice of the songbirds that I missed. The birds of prey had gone, and in the cover their little quarry cowered in fear of the shadow of the broad wings which had crossed them so often. Even now two of the great sea eagles were sailing inland, and from these strange signs we knew for certain that yonder a battlefield was spread for them, where Saxon and Welsh strove for mastery in the fair valley. But we must pace the hill crest, silent and moody, waiting for some sign that might tell us of victory.
That came at last in the late afternoon. Slowly there gathered, over the trees where Norton was, a haze that thickened into a smoke, and that grew into heavy dun clouds which rose and drifted even to the hilltops, for Norton was burning, and by that token we knew that Ina was victor.
Presently there were flying men of the Welsh who could be seen on the open hillsides, and some few came even up to this camp, and we took them, and from them heard how the battle had gone. It had been a terrible battle, from their account, but they knew little more than that, and that they were beaten. I suppose that Ina thought it best for us to hold this camp for the night, for here we bided, chafing somewhat; and but for what we took from the Welsh, hungry, until early morning. Then at last a mounted messenger came to us, and we went to Norton.
There, indeed, was high praise waiting for us from Ina, for it seemed that our work had checked the advance of Gerent, and had given time for full gathering of the levies before he was over the border. But now I learnt that there was another Welsh army in the field, beyond the Tone River, and until we heard how it fared with the Dorset levies in that direction it was doubtful if we might hold that all was well yet. Gerent had not set everything on this one attack, but had also marched on Langport across the Blackdown hills. Thither Nunna had led what men he could be spared, and was to meet the Dorset levies, whose ealdorman, Sigebald, had sent word to Glastonbury, soon after I left there, to tell of this attack.
In the late evening there were beacon fires on the Blackdown hills, and a great one on the camp at Neroche which crowns and guards the hills in that direction. And so presently through the dusk one rode into Norton with word of the greatest battle that Wessex had fought since men could remember, for Nunna had met the foe on the way to Langport, and at last, after a mighty struggle which had long seemed doubtful, had swept them back across the hills whence they came, in full flight homeward. So there was full victory for Wessex, but we had to pay a heavy price therefor. Nunna had fallen in the hour of triumph, and Sigebald, the ealdorman, was lost to Dorset also.
Presently we laid Nunna in his mound on the Blackdown hills where he had fallen. There he bides as the foremost of Saxon leaders in the new land we had won, and I do not think that it is an unfitting place for such a one as he. It is certain that so long as a Wessex man who minds the deeds of his fathers is left the name of Nunna will be held in honour with that of the king; his kinsman.
CHAPTER XVI. OF MATTERS OF RANSOM, AND OF FORGIVENESS ASKED AND GRANTED.
Now I must needs tell somewhat of the way in which Ina won Norton, for that had so much to do with my fortunes as it turned out, seeing that all went well by reason of our holding the hill fort, in which matter, indeed, Thorgils must have his full share of praise.
Gerent halted in his march when the flying men from the camp came in to him, telling him that we were in strong force on the hill, and so our men crossed the Parrett unhindered, and won to the long crest of the southward spurs of Quantocks, where the Welsh gathered against Kenwalch in the old days and stayed his farther conquest. There was some sort of an advance post by this time in the Roman camp at Roborough, and Ina sent a few men to take it, and that was easily done. Then Gerent heard that Ina was on him, and went to meet him, and so the two armies met on the westward slope of the hills above Norton, and there all day long the battle swayed to and fro until the Welsh broke and fled back to the town itself. Then was a long fight across the ramparts, and at last Ina took the place, and so chased his enemy in hopeless rout across the moorland westward yet, until there was no chance of any stand being made.
But Gerent escaped, though it was said that it was sorely against his will. I was told that the old king came to the battle in a wonderful chariot drawn by four white horses, and that he stood in it fully armed, bidding his nobles carry him to the forefront of the fighting, but that they would not heed him. And presently when they knew that all was lost they hurried him from the field, though he cursed them, and even hewed at them with his sword to stay them as they went.
Now Ina's camp was set within the walls of Norton among the yet smoking ruins of the palace, where not one stone was left on another; and the Dragon banner of Wessex floated side by side with the White Horse of the sons of Hengist, where I had been wont to see the Dragon of the line of Arthur.
All the afternoon of that day Ina sat and saw the long files of captives pass before him, and I was there to question any he would, for he knew little or none of the Welsh tongue.
Many of these captives were of high rank, men who had only yielded when they must, and here and there I knew one of these by sight. They would be held to ransom by their captors, and the rest, freeman or thrall, as they had been, would be the slaves of those who took them, save they also could pay for freedom. It was a sad enough throng that passed under the shadow of the proud banners.
At last I saw one whom I knew well, and whom the king knew, for it was Jago. He stood in the line, looking neither to right nor left, but taking his misfortune like a brave man.
"Here is Jago, the friend of Owen, whom you know, King Ina," I said.
The king glanced up at the Welsh thane. There was no pride of conquest in the face of Ina as he gazed at his captives, and when one came as Jago came he looked little at him, lest he should seem to exult.
"Take him, and do what you will with him, Oswald. We owe you much again; if you see others for whom you would speak, tell me. I will deal with friends of Owen as you will. That is known already, and none will gainsay it."
I thanked the king quietly, but none the less heartily, and I ran my eyes down the line, but I saw no more known faces. So I went after Jago, who had passed on.
"Friend, you are free," I said. "That is the word of our king, for the sake of old friendship."
He could not answer, but the light leapt into his eyes, and he held out his hand to me. Then I took him to the tent which my house-carles had pitched next the king's, where Nunna's should have been, and bade him sit down there. Then I went out and brought up my own prisoners, passing the commoners into the hands of the men who had been with me, but keeping the chief until the last. Two of the house-carles led him up, and his face had as black a scowl on it as I had ever seen, and he looked sullenly at us.
"Who is he?" asked Ina, turning towards me.
I did not know, and, to tell the truth, had forgotten to ask him in the waiting for news of Nunna. So I asked him his name with all courtesy, and could win no answer from him but a blacker scowl than ever. Judging from his arms, which were splendid, and of the half Roman pattern that Howel wore, he might be of some note. I thought Jago might know him, so I asked him.
"Mordred, prince of Morganwg {iii}, from across the channel," he answered, looking from the tent door. "He is a prize for whoever took him. Gerent sent word to several of those princes, and his men are somewhere in the country yet, I suppose. They came at Gerent's invitation."
I went back to Ina, who had set the chief aside for the moment, and when some other man's captives had passed, bound to a long cord, my men brought him forward again.
"Ask him what brought him here," said Ina, when he heard who he was.
"I have a mind not to answer you," Mordred growled, when I put the question, "but seeing that there is no use in keeping silence, I will tell you. I hate Saxons, and so when Gerent asked me I came to help him."
"With your men?"
"A shipload of them. They are up in the hills yonder, where you left them, I suppose; and they will be a trouble to you until they get home, if they can. I am well quit of the cowards."
Now I began to understand how it was that this force went aside to fall on Watchet, and had little heart in the defence of the camp. They were strangers, who hated the name of the Northmen from their own knowledge of them, and could not miss a chance of a fight with them here. After that the men of Gerent who were with them at the camp cared nought for their strange leader.
"Take him, and hold him to ransom, Oswald," Ina said, when I told him all this. "From all I ever heard of Morganwg, he should be some sort of reward for what you have done. I should set his price high also, for he deserves it for coming here."
So I took Mordred to my tent, telling him that I must speak of him of ransom.
"Ransom? Of course, that will be paid. What price do you set on me?"
Now that was a question on which I had no thought ready, seeing that I had never held any man of much rank to ransom before, and I hesitated. At last I remembered what some great Mercian thane had to pay to Owen some years ago, and I named that sum, which was good enough for me and Erpwald and Thorgils to share between us.
Thereon his face flushed red, and he scowled fiercely at me.
"What!--Is that the value of a prince of Morganwg? It is ill to insult a captive."
"Nay, Prince, there is no insult--"
"By St. Petroc, but there is, though! What will the men of Morganwg--what will the Dyfed men say when they hear that the Saxon holds one of the line of Arthur at the value of a hundred cows? Ay, that is how I shall be known henceforth!--Mordred of the cows, forsooth."
He was working himself up into a rage now, and even Jago from the corner of the tent where he sat, dejectedly enough, began to smile. I had spoken of fair coined silver, and I had some trouble myself in keeping a grave face when this Welsh prince counted the cost of cattle therein.
"Will you double the sum, Prince?" I asked in all good faith.
"I will pay the ransom that is fitting for a prince of Morganwg to pay when his foes have the advantage of him. The honour of the Cymro is concerned."
"Ask him his value," said Jago in Saxon, knowing that Mordred did not understand that tongue at all. "Never was so good a chance of selling a man at his own price."
Then I could not help a smile, and Mordred waxed furious. He turned on Jago with his fist clenched.
"Silence, you miserable--"
"Prince, Prince," I cried. "He did but bid me ask you what was fitting."
"Well, then, do it," he cried, stamping impatiently, and glaring at Jago yet.
It was plain that if he did not understand the Saxon he saw that there was some jest.
"It is a hard matter for me to set a price on you, Prince," I said gravely. "I have never held one of your rank to ransom before, so that you will forgive seeming discourtesy if I have unwittingly done what was not fitting in the matter. What would the men of your land think worthy of you?"
"Once," he said slowly, "it was the ill luck of my--of some forebear of mine to have to be ransomed. They paid so much for him."
He named a sum in good Welsh gold that it had never come into my mind to dream of. It was riches for all three of us. And I dared not say that it was too much and somewhat like foolishness, for it was his own valuation. So I held my peace.
"Not enough?" he asked, not angrily, but as if it would be an honour to hear that I set him higher. "What more shall I add?"
"No more, Prince. I see that I have yet things to learn."
Truly, I had always heard that the tale of the golden tribute to Rome from Britain had tempted my forebears here first of all, and now I believed it. I suppose these Welsh princes had hoards which had been carried from out of the way of us Saxons and Angles long ago.
"Ay, you have," Mordred said grimly. "One day it shall be what the worth of a British prince is in good cold steel, maybe. Now let me have a messenger who shall take word to my people and bring back what is needed."
He scowled when I mentioned Thorgils, but he knew him by repute at least, and was willing to trust him, as I would do so. In the end, therefore, it was he who took the signet ring and the letter the prince had written and brought back the gold. Some of the coins were of the days of Cunobelin, but the most of it was in bars and rings and chains, wrought for traffic by weight.
Now I will say at once that neither of my comrades would share in this ransom, though I thought that it was a matter between the three of us, as leaders of the force that day.
"Not I," quoth Thorgils--"the man was your own private captive, for you sent him down yourself. What do I want with that pile of gold? I have enough and to spare already, and I should only hoard it. Or else I should just give it back to you for a wedding present by and by. What? Shaking your head? Well, what becomes of all my songs if they end not in a wedding? Have a care, Oswald, and see that you make up your mind in time."
So he went away, laughing at me, but afterward I did make him promise that if he needed a new ship at any time he would tell me, so that I might give him one for the sake of the first voyage in the old vessel, and that pleased him well.
Now I told Ina this, being always accustomed to refer anything to him, and he was not surprised to hear that the Norseman would not take the gold.
"And if I may advise," he said, "I would not offer a share to Erpwald; for, in the first place, he does not expect it, seeing that the captive is yours only, by all right of war; and in the next, he deems that you have already given him Eastdean, and he is not so far wrong. So it would hurt him. He will be all the happier now that he will know that you have withal to buy four Eastdeans, if you will."
So against my will, as it were, that day made a rich man of me. Presently I gave the wealth into the hand of Herewald the ealdorman, and he so managed it, being a great trader in his way, that it seemed to grow somewise, and I have a yearly sum therefrom in ways that are hard to be understood by me, but which seem simple enough to him.
I handed over Mordred to the Norsemen to keep until Thorgils returned with the ransom, for before we could rest with the sword in its scabbard again it was needful that all care should be taken for the holding of the new land we had won, and Ina would see to that himself. Here and there we had fighting, but the Welsh never gathered again in force against us, and at last we held every town and camp from sea to sea along the line of the hills that run from Exmoor southwards, and there was our new border.
Jago went back to Exeter, seeing that his house was burnt at Norton with the rest of the town, and I heard afterwards that there he had found his wife, whom he had sent away when the certainty of war arose. I was in no trouble for him, as he had houses elsewhere.
But we sent Erpwald back to Glastonbury in all haste, and he was in nowise loth to go, as may be supposed. One may also guess how he was received there. Then, as soon as Ina came back with us all, the ealdorman set to work to prepare afresh the wedding that was so strangely and suddenly broken in upon, and it was likely to be little less joyous that it had been so.
On the evening before the wedding the ealdorman came to me, when the day's duties were over, and said that Elfrida wished to speak to me. So I went, of course, not at all troubling that the ealdorman could not tell me what was to be said, for there were many things concerning tomorrow's arrangements with which I was charged in one way or another.
So I found her waiting me alone, in that chamber off the hall where her father and I spoke of the poisoning.
"I have not sent for you for nothing, Oswald," she said, blushing a little as if it were a hard matter she had to speak of. "There is somewhat on my mind that I must needs disburden."
"Open confession is good," I said, laughing--"what is it?
"Well--have you forgotten your vow of last Yuletide?"
"Not in the least. Would you have me do so? For that were somewhat hard."
"No--but yes, in a way."
There she stopped for a moment, and I waited for her to go on, not having any very clear notion of what was to come. She turned away from me somewhat, letting her fingers play over one of the tall horns on the table, when she spoke again.
"It has been in my mind that you--that maybe you thought that I have been hard on you--in ways, since we spoke in the orchard."
So that was what troubled her, but I did not see why she should have spoken of it, seeing that a lady has no need at all to justify her ways in such a matter, surely.
"No," I answered, "that I never thought. If my vow displeased you, or maybe rather if I displeased you thereafter, I had no reason to blame any one but myself for the way in which it was needful that I should be shewn that so it was. It was just the best thing for me, for it cured me of divers kinds of foolishnesses."
"That is what I would have heard you say," she said with a light-hearted laugh enough, while her face cleared. "Now I can say what I will. Do you know that you have kept your vow to the full already?"
"Not at all. There are long years before you yet, as one may hope."
"Ay, Oswald, and through you those years seem bright to look forward to. See, through you has come Erpwald, and now you have kept his life for me at risk of your own. All my life long I shall thank you for those two things. Surely your vow is fulfilled, for this will be lifelong service. There is more that I would say to you, but I cannot."
She turned away again, weeping for very happiness, as I think, that could not be told, and I had no word to speak that was worth uttering, though I must say somewhat.
"It will be good to think of you two together--"
"In the place you have given us," she broke in on me. "Love and a home for all my life! What more could your vow have wrought than that? Let me go, Oswald, or I shall weep. It was a good day that sent you to be my champion."
Then she stepped swiftly to me and kissed me once, and fled, and I do not mind saying that I was glad that she had gone. Too much thanks for things that had been done more or less by chance, and as they came to hand as it were, without any special thought for any one, are apt to make one feel discomforted.
The wedding on the morrow I have no skill to tell of, but as every one has seen such a thing, that hardly matters. I will only set down that never had I seen such a bright one, or so good a company, there being all the more guests present because many who came to the levies stayed on to do honour to the ealdorman and his daughter. Elfrida looked all that a bride should, as I thought, and also as the queen said in my hearing, so that I think I cannot be wrong. I gave her Gerent's great gold armlet, having caused it to be wrought into such a circlet for her hair as any thane's wife might be well pleased to wear.
As for Erpwald, he was dazed and speechless with it all, but none heeded him, though indeed he made a gallant groom, for that is the usual way as regards the bridegroom at such times. Which is perhaps all the more comfortable for him.
Then was pleasant feasting, and after it some of us who had been Erpwald's closer friends here rode a little way with those two wedded ones on the first stage of their homeward journey. The Sussex thanes and their men were with them as guard, and they rode on ahead and left us to take our leave.
And by and by, after a mile or two, the rest turned back with gay farewells, and left me alone with the two, for they knew that I was their nearest friend, and would let me be the last to speak with them. We had not much to say, indeed, but there are thoughts, and most of all, good wishes, that can be best read without words.
"There is but one thing that I wish," Elfrida said at the very last, even when I had turned my horse and was leaving them.
"What is that?" I asked, seeing that there was some little jest coming.
"Only, that I had seen the Princess Nona."
I laughed, and so they were gone, and I went back to Glastonbury, wondering if Elfrida guessed what my thoughts of that lady might be. I had not said much of her to any one, except as one must speak of people with whom one has been for a while.
Strangely enough had come to pass that which I vowed to do for Elfrida, though not in the way which had been in my mind when I drank the Bragi bowl. Presently, when I came back to the ealdorman's house, I had to put up with some old jests concerning that vow, which seemed to others to have come to naught, but they did not hurt me.
Three days after the wedding Thorgils came to Glastonbury with his charge, and glad enough I was to hand it to Herewald, as I have already said, and to get the care of it off my mind. Yet I will say that by this time there had come to me a knowledge concerning this gold which was pleasant. Only the other day I had been but the simple captain of house-carles, though I was also the friend of a mighty king, and foster son of a prince indeed, and that had been all that I needed or cared for. Lately there had come a new hope into my life, and it was one that was far from me at that time. But now, when the time came for me to go to Dyfed for Owen, I should go with power to choose lands and a home for myself and for that one whom I dared now to ask to share it. And that was the only reason that I cared to think of the new riches at all. If that hope came to naught I should certainly care for them or need them little enough, for my home would be the court as ever.
Better to me than the gold was a letter from Owen. The honest Norseman had gone out of his way to put in at Tenby, knowing that I should be glad to have news thence, and not troubling about Mordred who was waiting release, at all. So he had seen Owen, who was well as might be, he said.
"With two holes in one thigh, and his left arm almost growing again like a crab's claw. I do not think that he was in the least surprised to hear of the war, nor indeed of its end. All he wanted to know was of you, as it seemed, at least from me. So it was also with Howel and the princess. It was good to see their faces when I told them of the fight at the camp, and how you won glory there. Nevertheless, I was half afraid that I made the fighting a bit too fierce over Erpwald, for the princess turned pale enough in hearing how you were knocked over. You ken that I am apt to make the most of things when I am telling a story. My father was just the same, and maybe my grandfather before that, for saga telling runs in the family."
I laughed at him, but in my mind I thought of the day when I saw Elfrida pale as she heard of Erpwald's danger at Cheddar, and I wondered.
Then I turned to Owen's letter, and it was long and somewhat sad, as may be supposed, for this war had a foreshadowing of long parting between him and me. But he said that he had known it must come, having full knowledge, before Morfed the priest took him, how the war party were getting beyond control. Wherefore he saw that he and I had been saved much sadness by his absence, and it remained to be seen how we should fare when he returned. At least, we should meet soon in Dyfed, for he mended apace.
I need not tell all of that letter, for it was mostly between us twain. But in it were words for Ina concerning peace, such as an ambassador from the British might well speak, and they helped greatly toward settlement by and by. And so the letter ended with greetings from Howel and Nona, and many words concerning their kindness to him.
But when I spoke to Thorgils of crossing soon to bring Owen back he shook his head.
"I suppose he has even made the best of things in the letter, but if he can bear arms again by Yule it will be a wonder," he said. "Yet he is well for so sorely wounded a man."
Then he promised that it should not be so long before I heard news from Owen again, for he had yet to make several voyages before the winter. And he kept his promise well, for I think that he made one more than he would have done, for my sake solely, though he will not own it, lest the long winter should seem lonesome to me.
For I will say at once that Owen did not come back by Yule. All that went on in the Cornish court I do not know, but it seemed that Gerent thought it well that he should not return until the last hope of victory over Wessex had passed from among his people; and it may be that he did not wish it to be thought that Owen had any hand in bringing about the peace which he must needs make. He would see to that, and take all the blame thereof himself, caring nothing for any man, if blame there should be from those who set the war on foot.
So although I waited to hear from time to time as Thorgils came and went, getting also word from him when some Danish ship crossed to Watchet, nought was said of Owen's return. And I was not sorry, for as things went I could not have gone to Dyfed to meet him.
There was the new land we had won to be tended, and for a time the planning for that was heavy enough. All men know now how it ended in the building of the mighty fortress of Taunton at the southern end of the Quantock hills, to bar the passage from West to East for all time. There is no mightier stronghold in all England than this, at least of those built by Saxon hands, and there has been none made like it since Hengist came to this land. It stands some two miles from where the Romans set Norton, for they had the same need to curb the wild British as have we, and the place they chose for their ways of warfare needed little amending for ours.
While that was building, Ina dwelt in the house of some great British lord at the place we call South Petherton, not far off from the fortress. As the place pleased him, presently he had a palace built there for himself, which, as it turned out, Ethelburga the queen never liked at all. However, that came about in after years. All day long now he was at Taunton, taking pride in overseeing all, so that there is no wonder that the place is strong.
As for me, I was with Herewald the ealdorman on the new boundary line with the levies and the king's own following, guarding against any new attack, and trying to win the Welsh to friendship. That was mostly my work, as I knew the tongue, and they knew me as Owen's foster son. We had some little trouble with them for a time, but soon, as they came to know the justice of the king, and that he did not mean to drive them from the land, they became content, and indeed there were many who welcomed a strong hand over them.
Presently there would be Saxon lords over the manors as Ina found men to hold them, but there would be no change beyond that. Freeman should be freeman, and thrall thrall, as before, each in his old holding undisturbed, with equal laws for Saxon and Briton alike.
Now, one day when I came to the house of the king at Petherton on some affairs I needed his word concerning, presently there came a message to me that Ethelburga the queen would speak with me, and, somewhat wondering, I was taken to her bower, and found her waiting for me.
"Oswald," she said, after a few words of greeting, "there is one who wronged you once, and has come to ask for your forgiveness. What answer shall I give?"
"Lady," I said, "I can remember none who need forgiveness from me now. Those who wrought ill against Owen have it already, or are gone. I have no foes, so far as I know, myself, and truly no wrongs unforgiven."
"Nay, but there is this one."
"Why then, my Queen, that one must needs be forgiven, seeing that I know not of wrong to me."
I laughed a little, thinking of some fault of a servant, or of a man of the guard, of which she had heard. But she went to a settle hard by and swept aside a kerchief which lay on it as if by chance, and under it were two war arrows. And I knew them at once for those which had been shot into our window at Norton and had vanished.
Now I will say that the sight of these brought back at once some of the old feeling against those who, like Tregoz, had sought Owen's life and mine, and my face must needs show it.
"Ay," the queen said, seeing that, "these are indeed a token that forgiveness is needed."
Then I remembered that there was but one who could come here with these arrows, though how she had them I could not do more than guess. It could be none other than Mara, the daughter of Dunwal.
Then suddenly, from among the ladies at the end of the room, one who was dressed in black rose up and came toward me, and she was none other than Mara herself, thin and pale indeed, and with the pride gone from her dark face. Her voice was very low as she spoke to me, and her bright black eyes were dim with tears.
"I do not ask you to forgive my uncle, or indeed my father--for what they planned and well-nigh wrought is past forgiveness," she said, "Forget those things if it be possible, but forgive my part in them."
"I have done that long ago, lady," I said in all truth.
I knew that she must have been made use of by the men in some ways, but I did not think at all that she had wished ill as they wished it, since I knew that Morfed had trained the Welsh girl to the deed at Glastonbury.
"Ay," she said sadly. "But forgetfulness is not forgiveness. You do not know how I carried messages between my father and uncle, when one was in bondage and the other in hiding, so that their plans were laid through me. I am guilty with them. Therefore I would hear you say at least that you will try to forgive before I pass from the world into the cloister where I may pray for them, and for you also, if I may."
Then I said, with a great pity on me for this lady whom I had known so proud and careless:
"Lady, I do forgive with all my heart. I do not think that you could have stood aloof from your father, and I do not think that you are so much to blame in all the trouble as you would seem to make me believe. In all truth I do forgive."
She looked searchingly at me while I spoke, and what she saw in my face was enough to tell her that she had all she needed, and with one word of thanks she went back to the ladies, and one of them took her from the room.
"She goes into my new nunnery at Glastonbury tomorrow, Oswald," the queen said, "and now she will rest content. It was a good chance that brought you here today, my Thane, for she had begged me to send for you, and that I could hardly do, seeing that one knows not where to find you from day to day. I could tell her truly that I knew I could win your forgiveness: but that would not have been enough for her, I think."
So Mara passed into the nunnery, and unless she has been one of the veiled sisters whom one sees in their places at the time of mass, I do not know that I have ever set eyes on her again. I do not think that it was the saddest end for her.
CHAPTER XVII. HOW OSWALD FOUND A HOME, AND OF THE LAST PERIL OF OWEN THE PRINCE.
All that winter, and through the spring, men toiled at the great fortress, but Ina went back presently to Glastonbury, or to others of his houses, after his wont, now and then riding even from far to us to see how all went. And I was fully busy in the new province, for we made a roll of those who owned land there, that all might be known to the king, and that matter was set in my hand for those reasons which had made me useful already in quieting the country. Moreover, the years at Malmesbury had made me able to write well, and now I was glad that I had learnt, though indeed it went sorely against the grain with me to do so at the time. Truly, I had to go on this errand of the king's with sword in one hand and pen in the other, but I daresay I did better, and fared less roughly, than would one who could not speak to the British freemen in their own tongue. At least, if a man was sullen when I came to him, he was, as a rule, pretty friendly when I left, for he knew that no harm was meant him, and that to be on this roll meant that on his lands he was to bide in peace.
And I may not forget that Evan helped me greatly in the matter, for he knew almost all of the best freemen.
When the walls were strong, in the midst of the new fortress they built a good house for Ina, and we thought that he meant to live here at times, for he had it fully furnished, even to the rushes on the floor, after Easter. By that time I had leisure to spend the holy season with the court at Glastonbury, for there was peace everywhere. And there I had a visit from Thorgils, who brought good news from across the sea. He had made his first voyage of the year, and had seen Owen, who was himself again, if yet weak.
He had not written to me, but sent word by the Norseman that he did but wait for me to come for him, if I might. If not he would come alone; but it seemed to him that we should have to part when we reached this side of the channel, for he must go to Gerent at once.
Next day Ina and the queen must needs pass to Taunton to see the place, for he said that when I might go for Owen depended on its readiness. So we rode with but a small train, meaning, after seeing the fortress, to go on to Petherton for the night, which was quite a usual plan with the king nowadays, since all this building was on hand.
So we went round all the walls, and saw the new bridge across the Tone River, and then went into the hall that stood, as I have said, within the walls of the fortress itself. There all was ready for the king, even to a fire on the hearth in the middle of the great hall, which was fully as large as that at Glastonbury itself. I had not seen this house of late, and now the king would have me go all over it and tell him what I thought thereof.
Indeed, there was nought to say of it but good, for it would be hard to find one better planned in all Wessex, as I think, whether in the house itself, or about the buildings that were set along its walls without for the thralls and workshops, or in the stables and other outhouses. It was indeed such a house as any thane would be proud to hold as his home.
Presently, therefore, after seeing all, the king and queen and I stood by the hearth in the hall again, and Ina asked me my thoughts of it. And I told him even as I have written, that all was well done and completely.
"Why, then," he said, "let me come and stay here now and then."
I laughed at that.
"I have heard, my King, of house-carles who led their masters, but that is not our way. Where the king goes the household follows, in Wessex."
He laughed also, for a moment.
"Long may it be so," he said. "Nevertheless, I think that I shall have to be as a guest here now and then."
Then Ethelburga smiled at my puzzled face, and spoke in her turn.
"Why, Oswald, it seems to me that you are the only man in all Wessex who does not know who is to live here."
"It is always said that the king himself will make it one of his palaces, lady," I answered.
Then Ina set his hand on my shoulder, and made no more secret of what he meant.
"I want you to bide here, my Thane, and hold this unquiet land for me. There is not one who can better rule it from this fortress for me than yourself; and the house and all that is in it is yours, if you will."
Then for a moment came over me that same feeling of loneliness that had kept me from taking Eastdean again, and with it there was the thought that I was not able to take so great a charge on me.
"How can I do this, my King?" I said, not knowing how to put into words all that I felt. "I am not strong enough for such a post."
"Nay," he said gravely. "It is said of me that I do not do things hastily, and it is a true word enough, seeing that I know that I often lose a chance by over caution, maybe. Answer me a question or two fairly, and I think you will see that I may ask you to bide here."
Then he minded me that I alone of all his athelings knew this Welsh tongue as if born thereto, and also that men knew me as the son of Owen the prince, so that the Welsh would hardly hold me as a stranger. That I had found out in these last months while I had been numbering the freemen and their holdings; and as I went about that business I had seen every one that was of any account, so that already I knew all the land I had to rule better than any other. That task, however, had been set me, as I know now, in preparation for this post.
I had no answer to make against all this concerning myself, for it was true enough, but I did not speak at once. It did not follow that I could rule as I should, even with all this to help me, and I knew it.
"What, is more needed?" Ina said. "Well, I at least have had a letter from Owen by the hand of Thorgils yesterday. See what is written in it."
He set the writing in my hand, and turned away while I read it. It was meant for my sight as well as his, for he had written to Owen concerning this post for me. And after I had read it all I could say no more, for Owen told how he would help me in all ways possible, and also that he knew how Gerent himself would be more content in knowing that no stranger was to be over the land he had lost.
So I gave the letter back to the king's hand, and said plainly: "I think that I may not hold back from what you ask me, my King, after all that Owen says. Nevertheless I--"
"But I am certain that you will do well," said Ina. "Now I shall miss my captain about the court, but I need him here. So you must even stay. There is Owen on the west to help you keep the peace in one way, and Herewald on the east to help you with the levies if need be. Fear not, therefore. It is in my mind that you will have an easier time here than any other I could have bethought me of, if I had tried."
Then, as in duty bound, I knelt and kissed the hand of the king in token of homage, and he smiled at me contented.
"You will be the first ealdorman of Devon, Oswald, when the Witan meets," he said; for it needed the word of the council of the thanes to give me the rank that was fitting.
Then when I rose up and stood somewhat mazed with the suddenness of it all, Ethelburga the queen, who had stood by smiling at me now and then, said: "This is your hall, Oswald, remember. But it needs one thing yet. You were wrong when you said it was complete."
I looked round and saw nothing wanting, from the hangings on the wall to the pile of skins on the high place seats.
"There are the pegs for the arms of the house-carles," I said, "but no arms thereon yet. That will soon be mended. And I have to set up a head or two of game, to make all homely, maybe?"
"More than that, Oswald," she said, laughing. "Strange how dense a man can be! It is a mistress who is needed. Else the women of Devon will have no friend at court."
I laughed, a little foolishly, perhaps, not having any answer at all, and Ina smiled and went out into the court by himself, saying that he would not meddle with such matters. So I was left to the queen by the hearth.
"Jesting apart, Oswald," she said, "I had hoped that vow of yours would have led to somewhat, and whose fault it was that nought came of it I do not know. However, no harm seems to have been done, and that may pass, though indeed Elfrida was a favourite of mine. But see to it that next time you are no laggard. Now, when are you going to Dyfed?"
Then I suppose my face told some tale against me, for the queen laughed softly.
"Soon, Oswald?"
I could not pretend to misunderstand her then, but when it was put to me so plainly it did not seem to me all so certain that my suit would fare better than my vow. I had no fear once that the last would not have been welcome, and was mistaken enough. Now, perhaps because I was in real earnest, I did doubt altogether.
"What, do you fear that there is no favour for you, my Thane?" Ethelburga said, with a smile lingering round the corners of her mouth.
"I do not see how there can be," I answered. "I am not worthy. It is one thing for the princess to be friendly with me, and another for her to suffer me to look so high."
I spoke plainly to the queen, as I was ever wont since I was a child in her train and she the kindly lady to whose hand I looked for all things, and from whom all my earlier happinesses had come. She was ever the same, and I know well that her name will be remembered as one of our best hereafter. It was almost therefore as mother to son that she spoke to me, rather than as mistress to servant.
"But you had no doubts at all concerning Elfrida."
"That was foolishness, my Queen, and I see it now. This is different altogether."
"I know it, and it was my fault in a way. Still, you were then but the landless house-carle captain, and yet you dared to look up to the daughter of the ealdorman. Now you are the Thane of Taunton, and to be the first ealdorman of Saxon Devon, with house and riches at your back, moreover. And she of whom you think is but the daughter of a Welsh princelet."
"Nay, my Queen, but she is Nona."
"Go your ways, Oswald," the queen said, laughing--"of a surety you are in earnest this time. Nay, but I will jest no more, and will wish you all speed to Pembroke. If there is no welcome, and more, for you there, I am mistaken, for you deserve all you wish."
So we spoke no more, but joined the king. Presently, when I came to think of what the queen had said of my changed rank and all that, I saw that she was right, and it heartened me somewhat. Not that I thought it would make any difference to Nona, but that it surely must to Howel, which was a great matter after all.
In a week Ina gathered the Witan of Somerset here to Taunton, first that the last stone of the fortress should be laid with all solemnity and due rites, even as the foundation had been laid with the blessing of Holy Church on it, and then that he might take counsel for the holding of the new land. Then in full Witan I did homage and took the oaths that were fitting, and so the king girt my sword on me afresh as I sat at the foot of his throne as the first ealdorman of Devon; and the Witan confirmed his choice, also making sure to me all dues that should come to the man who held the rank. They seemed well satisfied with the king's choice of me, and that was a good thing, for I will say that I had somewhat feared jealousy here and there. I do not think that their approval was due to any special merit of my own at all, but it was plain that I stood in a halfway place, as it were, between the two courts in a way that was in itself enough to make the choice good policy.