by G. A. Henty
“By the time you return I shall have found out whether Fitz-Urse is at the bishop’s palace, and shall have my horses ready to mount.”
The armourer learnt in the city that several ships for the North had already dropped down the river, and that three others were hastily completing their lading, and would follow by the next tide. He learnt from a trader that one of them was considered especially fast, and being acquainted with the owner, he took the armourer with him, and arranged for a passage for him and the boy.
“You will have to be on board this afternoon,” the owner said. “The shipmaster will not waste a tide, but as soon as it turns will up anchor and make his way down the river in the dark. He knows the channel well, and there will be light enough to enable him to hold on his course all night. The east wind may return again, and he might be caught; so he has decided to start as soon as the last bale is on board. He knows the sands well, and you may reckon on a speedy passage if the wind holds as it is, or even if it goes round to the east again, when he is once abreast of Harwich.”
On returning to Westminster Ulred learnt from Beorn that Fitz-Urse was there no longer, having, as the servant said, left for Normandy.
“I am just starting, Ulred. Which will be at York first, you or I?”
“It depends upon the wind, my lord. A ship can sail night and day, but a horse and rider must take some rest. It may be that we shall lay to at night, but that must depend upon the shipmaster. If the breeze holds and the ship goes on without stopping, methinks we shall be there before you.”
“At any rate,” Beorn said, “we may feel sure that we shall both be in time. Whatever their designs they will have to lay their plans and wait their opportunity, and such may not come for some time. Farewell, then, Ulred, and a safe voyage to you. As for me, I have had enough of the sea, and never wish to set foot on board ship again; for what with the want of space and the tossing and the sickness, I would rather pass the time in bonds in a prison cell than be cooped up in a ship.”
A few minutes later Beorn, attended by his servants, started for the North, and in the afternoon Ulred, after giving many orders to his head man as to the conduct of his business during his absence, took boat, and with Ulf went on board the ship. To the armourer it was a very serious undertaking upon which he was embarking. He had never before set foot on board of a ship, and a sea-voyage in those days was regarded as a very dangerous business. Nothing short of his loyalty to Harold would have induced him to have ventured on such an expedition. It was but a few months since that the Northumbrians had been burning and sacking the country round Northampton, and even putting aside the dangers of the sea, he regarded the visit to the North as full of peril.
Ulf on the other hand was delighted. To him the journey was full of interest and excitement, and on his return he would be regarded as a great traveller by his comrades. His face, therefore, as he climbed on board ship, was in strong contrast to the grave and serious visage of his master. Before the vessel had passed Greenwich he had made the acquaintance of the two ship’s-boys, and soon felt perfectly at home on board. He watched with great interest other craft that they met or passed, and noted with great satisfaction that they overhauled several who had, when first seen, been two or three miles ahead. The wind was blowing briskly from the south-west, and with her great sail set the vessel ran quickly through the water. Even when the tide turned she held on her course, and keeping close inshore made good way against it. Many times during the night he went out from the close sleeping-place to assure himself that the vessel was still making way. When morning broke the tide had again turned, and Ulf found that the vessel was now holding her course near the middle of the river, which had widened to an extent that seemed wonderful to him.
“Where have we got to now?” he asked one of the boys. “Are we out at sea? There does not seem to be any land on the right hand.”
“You would see it if it were clear. We are just opposite Foulness.”
“The vessel rolls about a good deal.”
“Do you feel ill?” the boy laughed. “This is nothing.”
“No; I feel hungry, but that is all.”
“If the wind holds as it is we shall not have it rougher than this, for we shall steer more and more north, and as we always keep inside the sands the land will shelter us. The shortest passage is straight ahead, but we generally go through a channel between two sands into the Wallet, which lies between the sands and the Essex shore. There are not many ship-masters who will come down the river below Sheerness at night, and even our master would not try it with a falling tide; but even if one does touch when the tide is rising, one soon gets off again. She won’t roll about so much when we get inside the sands; and besides, I heard the master say that he thought the wind would fall lighter as the sun got up.”
“I should like it to keep on just as it is,” Ulf said. “I do not want it to blow so hard that we must go into port, and I don’t want it to blow so light that we shall go slowly.”
“What are you in such a hurry for?” the boy asked.
“There are some people my master knows who have gone up in a ship that started yesterday morning, and my master wants to be there before them.”
“You need not be afraid, he is sure to be there first. Like enough we have passed them already. The wind was not so strong yesterday as it was in the night, and I expect they had to anchor when the tide turned. If they have a master who knows the sands well they may have gone on when the tide turned again, but it was likely they would anchor before they got down to Sheerness. If they did, we passed them three or four hours ago. But anyhow you are sure to be in first. We often beat vessels that started with us, by a week. Most of them go outside all the sands when it is fine weather, but we always keep inside; and it makes a great difference, for the tides do not run so strong, and even with a light wind we can make way against them, while those outside have to anchor.”
“I can’t make out how you can find your way in the dark.”
“If it is a thick night and the weather is bad we anchor, but when it is clear enough to see the stars, or if the wind is steady so as to give us our direction, we go on. There is a man always standing at the side with a lead-line, and that tells us the depth of water, which is quite guide enough for the master. Of course we never sail in rough weather, for if we went on the sand then we should soon go to pieces; but if it is fine when we stick fast, which is very seldom, we put out the anchor and lower the sail, and go to sleep until the tide floats us again. Come up into the top; you can see a great deal farther from there than you can from the deck.”
Ulf found no difficulty in mounting to the top, although he was much longer than his companion in getting up. There were several sail following them, and Ulf was surprised at the knowledge his companion showed of vessels that appeared to him almost precisely similar.
“The one nearest to us is the Alfred,” he said. “I know her by that patch on her sail. She trades with Harwich. Those two smaller craft behind are bound, I should say, for Colchester or Maldon. That craft two miles ahead of us is a foreigner. You can see her sail has a longer yard than the others, and the sail is narrower at the bottom than it is at the top. Those two or three small craft you see more inshore have passed through the channel we shall follow into the Wallet. The farthest one is going on to Harwich, the others into the rivers. There is a craft about our own size hull down close by the land. She may be going to Harwich, or may be going on north. She looks to me like a foreigner. If so, she has come last from London. French and Flemish ships do not come within fifty miles of this. And now I must go down. We do the cooking, and breakfast must be ready in half an hour, or the master will be storming at us.”
The wind held steadily from the south-west, and the vessel ran along near the shore in smooth water. The armourer had been ill the first night, but he came on deck soon after breakfast, and when once the vessel was past the mouth of Harwich Bay and was close inland, he soon recovered. On the morning of the fourth day after leaving p
ort she entered the mouth of the Humber, and by nine o’clock arrived at Hull. Landing at once the armourer found a small vessel on the point of starting for York, and in half an hour from the time of weighing anchor the tide turned, and they ran rapidly along, helped by the flood.
“At what time will you reach York?” the armourer asked the master.
“By daylight tomorrow. We shall sail on until the flood is spent, and then anchor and go on again as soon as the ebb has done.”
“How far will you be from York when you anchor?”
“We shall most likely get to Selby, some fourteen miles away by the road, though farther by the turns of the river.”
“Could you put us ashore there, for we are anxious to reach the city as soon as possible?”
“Oh, yes. I will put you ashore in the boat either there or wherever else we may bring up.”
They were three miles short of Selby when the ebb began to come down and the anchor was dropped. The armourer and Ulf were at once landed, and shouldering their bundles they set out at a brisk pace and passed through Selby at four o’clock. No questions were asked them. There was but small difference of dress between the people of the various parts of England, and it was no unusual sight to see traders and others passing along the road on their way to the Northern capital.
“I am right glad to be on firm land again,” Ulred said; “for although, after the first night, matters have been better than I expected, there was always a movement that seemed to make my head swim.”
“I liked it, master,” Ulf said, “and if it were not that I am going to be an armourer I would gladly be a sailor.”
“You might not have said so if you had seen bad weather; and moreover, it is one thing to be a passenger with nought to do but to amuse yourself, and another to be always hauling at ropes and washing down decks as a sailor. I am glad night is coming on, for I feel strange in this country I know nothing of, and in the dark one place is like another.”
“I would much rather walk along this road in the dark,” Ulf laughed, “than along some of the streets of London, where one may step any moment into a deep hole or stumble into a heap of refuse.”
“At any rate, in the dark no one can see we are strangers, Ulf, and though I should not think there would be robbers on the road so near to York, these Danes are rough folk, and I want to meet none of them. One man, or even two, I in no ways fear, but when it comes to half a dozen even the best sword-player may wish himself out of it.”
They met, however, but one or two men on the road, and beyond exchanging the usual salutation nothing was said; but Ulred was well pleased when about seven o’clock they entered the streets of York.
They had already learned that the royal marriage had taken place on the previous day, and that the king was expected to remain in York two days longer before journeying south. There was a banquet being held at the archbishop’s palace, where the king was lodged, and on arriving there they found that it would at present be impossible to get at Wulf, as supper had just been served. A small bribe, however, was sufficient to induce one of the bishop’s servants to take the message to Osgod, who would be stationed near his master’s chair, that his father was at the entrance and prayed him to come out to him as soon as possible. A few minutes later the tall Saxon came out with an expression of utter bewilderment on his face.
“Is it really you, father, in flesh and blood?” he exclaimed as his eyes fell on Ulred.
“I have never been taken for a ghost, Osgod, and if I were to give thee a buffet methinks you would have no doubt upon the matter.”
“But what brings you here, father? If they had told me that the great Abbey tower stood without I could not be more surprised.”
“Do you not see that I have brought Ulf with me, Osgod? If your head were not so thick you would guess at once that I have come about the business with which he was charged.”
Osgod looked relieved. That his father should be in York had seemed to him so strange and outrageous that he had first doubted his own eyes, and then his father’s sanity. Now for the first time the object of his coming flashed upon him.
“Is there danger, father?”
“Methinks there is great danger. But the story is a long one.”
“Then I cannot wait to hear it now, for I must needs return to Wulf. I whispered in his ear that I must leave for a moment, but that I should be back directly.”
“Then just whisper to him again, Osgod, that I have urgent need for speech with him. I suppose Beorn has not arrived?”
“Beorn!” Osgod repeated vaguely.
“The Thane of Fareham,” the armourer said sharply. “Are your wits wool-gathering altogether?”
“No, he is not here; nor has Wulf said a word of his coming, as he assuredly would have done had he expected him.”
“Well, when I tell you that he is riding from London, while I have come thence by sea, you may suppose that we thought the matter urgent.”
“I will tell Wulf at once, father, but I am sure that he cannot come out for an hour yet.”
“The matter will keep that while. I will go and look for a lodging for us and get something to eat, for we have walked some seventeen miles, and my legs are not so accustomed to exercise as my arms. In an hour we will be here again.”
Ulred and his apprentice had returned to the gate of the bishop’s palace but a few minutes when Wulf came out, followed by Osgod. “Your message must be an important one, indeed, Ulred, to cause you to leave the forge and to undertake so long a voyage. And you say Beorn is riding hither on the same errand?”
“He is. It is a sort of race between us, and it seems that we have won.”
“Let us step aside from here,” Wulf said. “There are too many gathered about to stare at the guests as they come and go for us to talk unobserved. The cathedral yard is close by, and there will be no fear of eaves-droppers there.”
“It is Ulf’s story,” the armourer said when they reached the shadow of the cathedral. “It is to him that the matter was committed, and though he was forced to take me into his confidence, the merit of following up the matter, if merit there be, is his.”
Ulf accordingly related the story of his watching, the discovery he had made by the river, and how Walter Fitz-Urse had been afterwards seen to embark and had not returned. Ulred then stated how he had discovered the ship from which the boat had come, and had seen the Norman go on board, and how, when he learned that the ship had sailed, he had, after seeing Beorn, taken passage in another vessel. “We have come up fast,” he said, “and the opinion of the master was that we have gained a full day on any craft that started that morning. Of course, we know not that the villains have come hither; they may have returned to France, they may have gone up some of the other rivers in order to take post on the road the king will follow on his way south. But at any rate we felt it right that you should know that Fitz-Urse, with those with whom he has been holding secret communication, have left London.”
“You have done rightly indeed, Ulred, and in the king’s name and for myself I thank you heartily. Of course, we are still without any proof that Fitz-Urse is conspiring against the king’s life. It was unfortunate indeed that Ulf did not understand the first conversation he heard, but I ought to have foreseen that it was likely that any talk Fitz-Urse might have with others would be in Norman. I cannot think now how I could have overlooked such a probability. Of course, in the years that he has been over here he has learnt to speak our language, but it would be with Normans he would deal in the matter of which we suspect him. I will give myself the night to think over the matter before I decide what steps we had better take. Inside the bishop’s palace, at any rate, the king is safe, and, as you say, it is not likely that the Normans can be here for a day at least. If their ship is a French one the master will be ignorant of the dangers of the coast, and instead of threading his way through the channels of the sands, as your master did, will have held his course far outside them. I would we knew how many men are
engaged in the matter.”
“As to that we have no clue,” the armourer said. “There was the man of his own rank and the other two who met him on the bank, but whether these were all, or whether there were a score of others on board the ship, I know not. Certainly none showed themselves on the deck while I was watching them. But this proves nothing. They would naturally be kept in concealment, for had there been an unusual number of men on board, inquiries would have been made as to whom they were and their business.”
“I will meet you here at seven tomorrow morning, Ulred, and we shall then have time to talk the matter over more fully.”
CHAPTER XVII
AN ATTEMPT AT ASSASSINATION
When Wulf met the armourer next morning in the cathedral close he was accompanied by Beorn, who said, laughing, to the latter, “You have beaten me fairly, friend Ulred, and it is well that I had no wager with you on the race. But it was not by much, for I rode in here as the bells were chiming eleven. I was glad to hear from Wulf when I roused him up that he had learnt all the news from you, for indeed I was sore weary, and was right pleased to wrap myself in my cloak and go straight to sleep instead of having to sit up for an hour expounding my story.”
“We have resolved in the first place, Ulred, to say nought of this matter to the king,” began Wulf. “He will have enough to occupy all his thoughts in the affairs of the kingdom, and in the second place his nature is so open that he will refuse to believe in such villainy unless upon strong proof, and of actual proof we have none. Beorn’s appearance here will excite no surprise. He will say that having nought in particular to occupy him he had ridden north to be at the wedding, and finding that he was too late, would at any rate ride back with the king. With him and me and Osgod ever on the watch, methinks there will be little fear of a surprise; and it is by surprise only that they can succeed, for Harold himself is a match for any four or five ordinary men if he has but time to draw his sword. I will, however, on some excuse have half a score of Harold’s housecarls placed under my orders, and sleeping or waking the king shall never be a moment unguarded.
