"Tell your people that never should a bridal train cross the Bridge of the Golden Spurs on the way to the church while the brook flows to the sea, lest ill should befall both bride and groom, because thus found I Eadmund the King, whose face is ever before me by night and day. Take this gold, I pray you, Wulfric, and lay it on the tomb where his bones are, in token that he has conquered--and let me fight my shame alone till I die."
Wondering, I took the bracelet, pitying the man again, yet fearing what he might say and do next, for I thought that maybe he would slay himself, so hopeless looked he.
"Fain would I have been your friend," he said, "but pride would not let me. Yet Eadgyth your sister and Egfrid called me so, and maybe that one deed of ruth may help me. Now go, lest I become weak again. Lonely shall I be, for you take all that I hold dear--but even that is well."
So he turned from me, and I went out without a word, for he was Ingvar. Yet sometimes I wish that I had bidden him farewell, when the thought of his dark face comes back to me as I saw him for the last time in his own hall, leaning away from me over his carven chair, and very still.
I sought Thormod, and told him that he must see the king with his tidings, for I would not see his face again.
"Nor shall we see Jutland again," he said, pointing to the ship, which lay now in the same place where the pirate had been, alongside Ingvar"s. And the other ship had come in during the night, and was at anchor in the haven.
"Shall we sail home at once?" I asked him.
"Aye; no use in waiting. We are wanted at Guthrum"s side, and can take no men, but a few boys back. Yet the other ship will stay while I send messengers inland, if Ingvar will not. But I shall return no more."
"Then," said I, "I will speak to the Lady Osritha."
"Go at once," he said, smiling; "bid her come with us to the better home we have found."
I had not seen Osritha since I left her yesterday, and now I feared a little, not knowing how she would look on things.
Yet I need not have feared, for when they took me to her bower she rose up and came to me, falling on my neck and weeping, and I knew that I had found her again not to part with her.
When she grew calmer, I asked her if she would return with us to Reedham, telling her how there would be no fear of war there in the time to come. And she held her peace, so that I thought she would not, and tried to persuade her, telling her what a welcome would be to her from all our folk, and also from the Danish people who loved her so well.
So I went on, until at last she raised her head, smiling at me.
"Surely I will follow you--let me be with you where you will."
So it came to pa.s.s that next day we sailed, Osritha taking her four maidens with her, for they would not leave her; having, moreover, somewhat to draw them overseas even as I had been drawn to this place again. And with us went close on a score of women and children whose menfolk were settled already near to Reedham. These were the first who came into our land, but they were not to be the last.
I had seen Ingvar no more, busying myself about fitting the ship with awnings and the like for these pa.s.sengers of ours; and what Thormod did about the men he sought I know not, nor did I care to know.
There is a dead tree which marks the place where I had been cast ash.o.r.e in Lodbrok"s boat, and which is the last point of land on which one looks as the ship pa.s.ses to the open sea from the haven.
And there we saw Ingvar the king for the last time. All alone he stood with his hands resting on his sword, looking at our ship as she pa.s.sed. Nor did he move from that place all the time we could see him.
Silently Thormod gave the tiller into my hands, and went to the flag halliards. Thrice he dipped Halfden"s flag in salute, but Ingvar made no sign, and so he faded from our sight, and after that we spoke no more of him. But Osritha wept a little, for she had loved him even while she dreaded him, and now she should see him no more.
Very quietly pa.s.sed the voyage, though the light wind was against us, and we were long on the way, for we were too short handed to row, and must beat to windward over every mile of our course. Yet I think of the long days and moonlit evenings on the deck of Halfden"s ship with naught but keenest pleasure, for there I watched the life and colour come back into Osritha"s face, and strove to make the voyage light to her in every way. And I had found my heart"s desire, and was happy.
Then at last one night we crossed the bar of our own haven, and the boats came out to meet us, boarding us with rough voices of hearty welcome; and from her awning crept Osritha, standing beside me as I took the ship in, and seeing the black outline of hill and church and hall across the quiet moonlit water. And when the red light from wharf and open house doors danced in long lines on the ripples towards us, and voices hailed our ship from sh.o.r.e, and our men answered back in cheery wise, she drew nearer me, saying:
"Is this home, Wulfric?"
"Aye," I answered. "Your home and mine, Osritha--and peace."
Now have I little more to say, for I have told what I set out to tell--how Lodbrok the Dane came from over seas, and what befell thereafter. For now came to us at Reedham long years of peace that nothing troubled. And those years, since Osritha and I were wedded at Reedham very soon after we came home, have flown very quickly.
Yet there came to us echoes of war from far-off Wess.e.x, as man after man crept back to Anglia from the great host where Guthrum and Hubba warred with Alfred the king. And tired and worn out with countless battles, these men settled down with us in peace to till the land they had helped to lay waste and win. Hard it was to see the farms pa.s.s to alien owners at first, but I will not say that England has altogether lost, for these Danes are surely becoming English in all love of our land; and they have brought us new strength, with the old freedom of our forefathers, which some of us had nigh forgotten.
Now today I know that all the land is at peace, for Alfred is victor, and Guthrum is Athelstan the Christian king of Eastern England; and I for one will own him unasked, for he has governed well, and English is our overlord.
But Hubba is dead in far-off Devon, slain as he landed as Halfden had landed, to hem Wess.e.x in between Guthrum and himself, and his dream of taking the Wess.e.x kingdom is over. And the Raven banner that my Osritha made flaps its magic wings no more, for it hangs in Alfred"s peaceful hall, a trophy of Saxon valour.
Thormod, my comrade, lies in his mound in wild Strathclyde, slain fighting beside Halfden my brother, the king of Northumbria. Him I have seen once or twice, and ever does he look for peace that he may sail to Reedham and bide with us for a while. Well loved is Halfden, and he is English in every thought.
Many of our old viking crew are here with me, for they would fain find land in our country, and I gave them the deserted coast lands that lie to our northward, round the great broads. Good lands they are, and in giving them I harmed none. Filby and Ormesby and Rollesby they have called their new homesteads, giving them Danish names.
Now as to our own folk. My mother is gone, but first she stood for Osritha at the font, naming her again with the name by which I learnt to love her, for I would not have it changed.
Gone also has good old Ingild; but before he went he and I were able without fear of hindrance to build a little church of squared oaken timbers at Hoxne, for the heathen worship died quickly from among our Danes. On that church, Cyneward, who was Raud, and is our well-loved steward, wrought lovingly with his own hands side by side with the good monk who baptized him. And he has carved a wondrous oaken shrine for the remains of our martyred king, whereon lies the bracelet that Ingvar sent in token that Eadmund had conquered him who was his slayer.
How fared Ingvar I know not, for soon the incoming tide of Danes slackened, and I heard no news of him; and, as he said, never did he set foot on English sh.o.r.es again.
Egfrid and Eadgyth are happy in their place at Hoxne, and on them at least has fallen no shadow of misfortune from that which came of their pa.s.sing over the Bridge of the Golden Spurs--the Golden Bridge as our folk call it now.
Yet it needed no words of Ingvar"s to keep the memory of that day"s work alive in the minds of our people. Never so long as the Gold Brook flows beneath that bridge will a bridal pa.s.s churchwards over its span, for there, but for such a crossing, Eadmund the king might have bided safely till Ingvar the Dane had pa.s.sed and gone.
Little use is there in grieving over what might have been, but this I know, that in days to come forgotten will be Ingvar, and English will have become his mighty host, but in every English heart will live the name of Eadmund, who died for faith and country.