Hereward, the Last of the English by Charles Kingsley (easy to read books for adults list TXT) 📕

“Would God that I did lie! I saw him fall with an arrow through his throat. Then Jarl Tosti took the Land-ravager and held it up till he died. Then Eystein Orre took it, coming up hot from the ships. And then he died likewise. Then they all died. We would take no quarter. We threw off our mail, and fought baresark, till all were dead together.” [Footnote: For the details of this battle, see Skorro Sturleson, or the admirable description in Bulwer’s “Harold.”]

“How camest thou, then, hither?”

“Styrkar the marshal escaped in the night, and I with him, and a few more. And Styrkar bade me bring the news to Flanders, to the Countess, while he took it to Olaf Haroldsson, who lay off in the ships.”

“And thou shalt take it. Martin! get this man a horse. A horse, ye villains, and a good one, on your lives!”

“And Tosti is dead?”

“Dead like a hero. Harold offered him quarter,—offered him his earldom, they say: even in the midst of battle; but he would not take it. He said he was the Sigurdsson’s man now, and true man he would be!”

“Harold offered him?—what art babbling about? Who fought you?”

“Harold Godwinsson, the king.”

“Where?”

“At Stanford Brigg, by York Town.”

“Harold Godwinsson slew Harold Sigurdsson? After this wolves may eat lions!”

“The Godwinsson is a gallant fighter, and a wise general, or I had not been here now.”

“Get on thy horse, man!” said he, scornfully and impatiently, “and gallop, if thou canst.”

“I have ridden many a mile in Ireland, Earl, and have not forgotten my seat.”

“Thou hast, hast thou?” said Martin; “thou art Thord Gunlaugsson of Waterford.”

“That am I. How knowest thou me, man?”

“I am of Waterford. Thou hadst a slave lass once, I think; Mew: they called her Mew, her skin it was so white.”

“What’s that to thee?” asked Thord, turning on him savagely.

“Why, I meant no harm. I saw her at Waterford when I was a boy, and thought her a fair lass enough, that is all.”

And Martin dropped into the rear. By this time they were at the gates of St. Omer.

As they rode side by side, Hereward got more details of the fight.

“I knew it would fall out so. I foretold it!” said Thord. “I had a dream. I saw us come to English land, and fight; and I saw the banners floating. And before the English army was a great witchwife, and rode upon a wolf, and he had a corpse in his bloody jaws. And when he had eaten one up, she threw him another, till he had swallowed all.”

“Did she throw him thine?” asked Martin, who ran holding by the stirrup.

“That did she, and eaten I saw myself. Yet here I am alive.”

“Then thy dreams were naught.”

“I do not know that. The wolf may have me yet.”

“I fear thou art fey.” [Footnote: Prophesying his own death.]

“What the devil is it to thee if I be?”

“Naught. But be comforted. I am a necromancer; and this I know by my art, that the weapon that will slay thee was never forged in Flanders here.”

“There was another man had a dream,” said Thord, turning from Martin angrily. “He was standing in the king’s ship, and he saw a great witchwife with a fork and a trough stand on the island. And he saw a fowl on every ship’s stem, a raven, or else an eagle, and he heard the witchwife sing an evil song.”

By this time they were in St. Omer.

Hereward rode straight to the Countess Judith’s house. He never had entered it yet, and was likely to be attacked if he entered it now. But when the door was opened, he thrust in with so earnest and sad a face that the servants let him pass, but not without growling and motions as of getting their weapons.

“I come in peace, my men, I come in peace: this is no time for brawls. Where is the steward, or one of the Countess’s ladies? Tell her, madam, that Hereward waits her commands, and entreats her, in the name of St. Mary and all Saints, to vouchsafe him one word in private.”

The lady hurried into the bower. The next moment Judith hurried out into the hall, her fair face blanched, her fair eyes wide with terror.

Hereward fell on his knee.

“What is this? It must be bad news if you bring it.”

“Madam, the grave covers all feuds. Earl Tosti was a very valiant hero; and would to God that we had been friends!”

She did not hear the end of the sentence, but fell back with a shriek into the women’s arms.

Hereward told them all that they needed to know of that fratricidal strife; and then to Thord Gunlaugsson,—

“Have you any token that this is true? Mind what I warned you, if you lied!”

“This have I, Earl and ladies,” and he drew from his bosom a reliquary. “Ulf the marshal took this off his neck, and bade me give it to none but his lady. Therefore, with your pardon, Sir Earl, I did not tell you that I had it, not knowing whether you were an honest man.”

“Thou hast done well, and an honest man thou shall find me. Come home, and I will feed thee at my own table; for I have been a sea-rover and a Viking myself.”

They left the reliquary with the ladies, and went.

“See to this good man, Martin.”

“That will I, as the apple of my eye.”

And Hereward went into Torfrida’s room.

“I have news, news!”

“So have I.”

“Harold Hardraade is slain, and Tosti too!”

“Where? how?”

“Harold Godwinsson slew them by York.”

“Brother has slain brother? O God that died on cross!” murmured Torfrida, “when will men look to thee, and have mercy on their own souls? But, Hereward, I have news,—news more terrible by far. It came an hour ago. I have been dreading your coming back.”

“Say on. If Harold Hardraade is dead, no worse can happen.”