CHAPTER XX.
WAR'S VICISSITUDES.
"Hope tells a flattering tale, Delusive, vain, and hollow. Ah! let not hope prevail, Lest disappointment follow."
Miss Wrother.
The desperate repulse which the Normans received at the hands of theSaxon outlaws, made them exceedingly chary of attempting again theextermination of them. This afforded a welcome respite to the fugitives,particularly to the women and children. But the vigilance of theirsentinels was never permitted to be relaxed. The retreat to which Ethelhad been conveyed was thus free from alarms, and lacked nothing inpicturesqueness and beauty. Oswald had taken care that it should befurnished with some comfort and taste, for he had been wont insummertime to spend often many days, and even weeks, in this secludedand lovely spot. To Ethel, this home in the mountains was dearlywelcome. During the day she busied herself with the books of history,travel, and romance which Oswald loved; and at even her countenancebrightened at his cheery words and pleasant greetings. But for some daysa strange feeling of anxiety and foreboding had clouded her happiness;for more than a week Oswald had not so much as paid a hurried visit tohis favourite rendezvous.
"Your master has not been here for more than a week, Bretwul," said sheone day, when her anxiety for tidings could no longer be resisted. "Doyou know what detains him? I fear me he has fallen into the hands of theNormans."
"He will not fall into the hands of the Normans so easily, lady. If hedoes it will only be his body, though I am afraid he ventures on somedesperate enterprises."
"Whither has he gone, Bretwul? Know you?"
"I know not for certainty, lady, but I have belief he has gone with oneSigurd, lord of Lakesland, for he has disappeared and taken his wild-catcrew with him. Good riddance, I trow! and may my eyes never look uponsuch starved, ill-clad, unsavoury mortals again!"
"Who is this Sigurd you speak of, Bretwul?"
"He is lord of the Lakes, but has had served out to him the sametreatment as every other Saxon chieftain has had; first wholesalebutchery of his followers, then death, or flight and exile, forhimself."
"What has he been doing here?"
"He has been hunted, harassed, and driven from one hiding-place toanother, until he had but a handful of followers left. Then he soughtrespite in flight, and has been for a little while with us here, he anda dozen of his housecarles. Now he hears the Norman army has gone south,so he would fain return to the fray, and has craved the assistance ofthe Earl and a dozen stout retainers, in return for the services herendered us."
"I had a dream last night, Bretwul. I saw Oswald fighting desperatelywith Norman foes, and then he was surrounded by them and sorely wounded.Then I saw him borne by rough hands to a cave in the mountain side, andI saw him swiftly bleeding to death, and no one there knew how tostaunch his wounds or cool his feverish brow; and I heard him cry'Ethel!' And as I stretched out my hands to help, I awoke."
"It was but a dream, lady. Do not let your mind run on such thoughts asthese. You are looking pale and ill. My master will be angry when hereturns, if he knows I told you of his purpose."
"Can we not go to-night? I do not care to spend my time in idleness andease while he thus braves danger and death for his country. By hardriding we can reach Lakesland ere the sun is up, and I am sure I can beof service."
"Beshrew me if I dare budge a stone-throw from this place until he givesthe word! I like not lying to rust, like the Earl's old swords hungthere, in idleness; but I would rather not face him after disobeyingorders."
"But he may be wounded, and no one near to nurse him but these roughmen, whilst I am worse than useless here, with nothing to do but burdenothers!"
"Set your fears at rest, lady. These rough men know how to lay asplintered bone, or close a wound, like any practised leech. But if youlet your mind run on these things you will be miserable. I have no fearfor him. The Normans will find their match, I trow, and give him a wideberth. I have seen them cut down churls like myself with vigorousstrokes, and strike halting blows at him, through sheer terror at hisappearance."
"But they are many to one, and better armed, and he will be overborne bythe numbers of them. I am sure I could be of service, and I should liketo be near; I don't mind the rough life at all. Saddle us a pair ofhorses, and let us start to-night."
"I warrant the Earl would slit my ears if I dared do any such thing! Butthese are idle fears. I forget me, though; I have a message from theAbbot Adhelm. But, by our Lady! he is no longer abbot, but a humblefriar, with no more power in his own abbey than any scullion priest. Hewas a worthy Father, and never turned a lean dog of a Saxon away withoutcrumbs and comfort. But, among the other bad things these Normans havebrought, are a lot of swag-bellied monks, who broach more ale-casks thanthey say prayers; and, by the Mass! they drink the ale, too, for thereis never a drop, or a taste of venison, to bestow on a famishing palmer,or starving yeoman. I wish I could stick a nettle under their tails andmake them trot, the whole brood of them. The Church will never make muchout of my prayers, beshrew me! but I would with right good will rid herof these shaveling carrion who have come swarming at the heels of thefighting men."
"But you said you had a message from Adhelm, did you not, Bretwul?"
"Aye, aye, lady!" said Bretwul, highly gratified at the diversion he hadeffected. "When my tongue is set a-wagging, it is as long as my dog'swhen he is dead beat in chasing a hare; there's no hauling it in. Well,Adhelm has found some pity in a wolf's den. Whoever would have lookedfor a she-wolf having compassion on the sheep?"
"I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about Bretwul."
"Marry, no! there's no sense in an ass's braying; but bringing him tothe end on't is another matter. Well, gramercy! this fire-eating Normancount has got a daughter who belies her own father."
"Belies her own father? What may that mean?"
"Aye, marry, it's true enough--belies her own father. I take the libertyto dodge about a bit amongst the churls who have submitted to theseNormans, to see what encouragement there may be to feed at the sametrough as these broken-spirited cattle. Well, an iron collar about myneck is an ornament I don't covet, and kicks and cuffs always did bruisemy flesh, and, what is even more painful, they bruise my mind; so aNorman serf I will not be. But they tell me this count has a daughterwho has compassion, and visits them, carrying dainties to such as aresick. Adhelm also and she are great friends, and he says she occupiesherself much in this sort of work."
This colloquy was cut short by a sharp knock at the door and the hurriedentrance of one of the Earl's retainers.
"Bretwul!" said he; but, his eye alighting on Ethel, he suddenly paused."I crave your pardon," said he, hastily doffing his cap. "Matters ofimportance, which stand not on ceremony, have brought me."
"What are they, my man?" said Ethel, eager and apprehensive.
"The Earl is slightly unwell," said the stranger, noticing Bretwul'scautioning gesture; "and I have ridden hard to request that a bed may beprepared."
"My dream! my dream!" almost shrieked Ethel, starting from her seat. "Heis not dead yet! Say he is not dead?"
"Calm yourself, lady," said Bretwul, giving the stranger anothersignificant look.
"No, no, lady; a mere scratch. A few weeks of your nursing will set himon his feet as sound as a rock. But you will make ready, Bretwul? Theyare not far behind."