Part 28 (1/2)

I minded the story of the Huntsman's Leap, and how I had felt when I knew my escape. It was plain that this forest-bred Erpwald, with his cool head, and lack of power to picture what might have been, would make a good warrior, so far as dogged fearlessness goes, and that is a long way.

Now the ealdorman kept what else he might have to say until we were at home, for it was time for us to be off. So we brushed Erpwald down and hid his cut under a cap that the good franklin of the house lent him, for his own was gone, as he said, to make a bird's nest somewhere on the cliffs; and then Elfrida came from the cottage, looking a little white and shaken with her fright, but otherwise none the worse, and we started.

Erpwald kept out of her sight for a little while, but as we were fairly on the way home it was not long before he found his way to her side, and we let those two have their say out together.

One by one the friends who had joined us dropped out of the party as their way led them aside, until by the time we reached the ealdorman's house only half a dozen of us were left. Then Herewald would have us come in for some cheer after the long day, but we were tired and stained, and I must be back at the guardroom, and so he bade his folk bring somewhat out here to us. There was a cask of ale already set on the low wall by the gate for the men, and we sat on our horses waiting, with a little crowd of thralls and children round us, looking at the two good deer that we brought back. Then the steward and some of the women of the house brought horns of ale from the house for us.

One of the women came to me, and without seeing who she was, or thinking of doing so, I reached out my hand for the horn that she held up, and at that moment some one from behind seemed to run against my horse's flank, and he lashed out and reared as if he was hurt. My rein was loose, and I was bending carelessly over to take the horn, and it was all that I could do to keep my seat for the moment. As for the girl, she dropped the horn and ran from the plunging horse into the doorway for safety.

Then I heard the sharp crack of a whip, and the voice of the head huntsman speaking angrily:

”Out on you for a silly oaf!--What mean you by going near the thane at all?”

The whip cracked again, and the long lash curled round the shoulders of a ragged thrall, who tried in vain to escape it.

”On my word, I believe you did it on purpose!” the huntsman cried, with a third shrewd lash that found its lodgment rightly.

”Mercy, Master,” mumbled the man, writhing; ”it is this terrible crossing of the eyes. I do not rightly see where I go.”

I had quieted the horse by this time, and I held up my hand to stay the lash from the thrall. Some one picked up the horn that the girl had let fall.

”Let him be,” I said. ”It could but have been a chance, and he is lucky not to have been kicked. See, he does squint most amazingly.”

”Ay,” growled the huntsman, ”so he does; but I never knew a cross-eyed man before who had any trouble in walking straight enough.”

The thrall slunk away among his fellows. He was a round-shouldered man with hay-coloured hair and a stubby beard of the same, and he rubbed his shoulders with his elbows lifted as he went. Then the steward gave me a fresh horn, and we said farewell to our host and hostess, and Erpwald and I went our way.

”I thought that the horse would have knocked the Welsh girl over,”

he said presently. ”She was pretty nimble, however. That churl must have kicked your horse sharply to make him plunge as he did.”

”Trod on his fetlock most likely,” I answered. ”Clumsy knave.”

”Well, that huntsman knows how to use a lash, at all events, and he will have a care in future. But how my head does ache!”

”That is likely enough,” I said, laughing. ”It was a shrewd knock, and it kept you in that hole for the longest hour and a half I have ever known.”

”It does take somewhat out of the common to hurt me much,” he said simply.

”Well, by tomorrow you will be famed all over Glas...o...b..ry as the man who fell over Cheddar cliffs and escaped by reason of lighting on the thickest part of him,” I answered.

It was a poor jest enough, but it set him laughing. I did not wish him to say more of what had just happened, for I was puzzled about it, and wanted to get my thoughts to work. He had spoken of the very thing that I had been warned of, for almost had I taken the horn from the hand of a Briton--the Welsh girl of whom he spoke once before. I had forgotten her, for I do not think that I had ever seen her since she came here, until now. But at this moment I seemed to have a feeling that her face was in some way familiar to me, though only in that half-formed way that troubles one, and I was trying to recall how this might be.

Erpwald went off to the guest chamber where he was lodged, and presently I found our old leech and took him to see after him. He went comfortably to sleep after his hurt had been dressed, and so I left him. I will say at once that he felt no more trouble from it.

Then I went to the stables to see how fared my horse after the day's work, and found him enjoying his feed after grooming. I looked him over, but I could see no mark to show where the man might have hurt him. But as I was running my hand along the smooth hock to feel for any bruise, my groom said to me:

”Have you had a roll in a thorn bush, Master?”

”No.--What makes you think I might have had one?”

”I found this in his flank when I rubbed him down, and it was run thus far into him.”