CHAPTER X.
THE COMING OF HAROLD THE SAXON.
"Speak thou in the Norway tongue, for thou canst, that these who standby may understand thee. O Ned, the son of Webb, thou wilt now find thyway into the city of York?"
"That is what I am going to do, O Tostig the Earl," responded Ned. "Ican get in somehow or other."
"Go thou, then, and return and tell me if Edwin and Morcar aregathering more armed men within the walls. Bring me what tidings thoushalt hear concerning my brother Harold, the King. Go, and see thatthou have a care for thy tongue, that thou bring no news except toHarold Hardrada or myself."
"I can keep my mouth shut," said Ned, and away rode the stern earl,accompanied by several Vikings of high rank, who had entered the campof Vebba with him.
Ned had been summoned to meet the earl at a little distance from hisown Norse friends, and not even Vebba himself nor Father Brian daredquestion him afterward too closely concerning his orders from the verydangerous tempered Tostig. As Vebba said to the missionary, "It were aspear thrust, quickly, for thee or me, if we foolishly meddled with theprivate matters of the son of Godwin. See that thou let the youth obeyhis earl."
"That will I do," said Father Brian, but it evidently went hard withhim.
Before the evening of Thursday, some results of the peace negotiationshad been made public, and they appeared to be all that the army oughtto ask for. The city of York was to be surrendered upon the followingMonday. There was to be no more fighting, although there were yet anumber of minor points remaining to be settled.
Fair as this seemed, there were loud murmurs, here and there, for manyof the Vikings were sorely disappointed. They declared that in thismanner they were being unjustly robbed of all the pleasure upon whichthey had counted in the taking and sacking of so large and fine a town.
"They are as mad as wet hens," remarked Ned, "because they are not tohave the fun of killing the people. I guess, though, that York wouldn'tbe of much more use to Hardrada and Tostig after all these pirates hadgone through it. They'd leave it worth a last year's bird's nest."
Something like that was also said by Father Brian, and all the whilethe prudent priest was watching his opportunities. On Friday morninga number of distinguished English clergymen came out from the city incompany with the ambassadors who were to confer with Hardrada and EarlTostig. When these learned and excellent men returned to York, theIrish missionary and Ned, the son of Webb, went through the gate withthem.
"My boy," exclaimed Father Brian as they did so, "here we are, safe andsound. I'm sorry thy own family is not within the walls, but thou canstdo the bidding of thy earl easily. We will find a good lodging, and Ihave money enough for us both. I found it in the pouches of some of theunfortunate heathen that lay dead on the Fulford field. They will notneed it any more, and it is a very timely supply for thee and me. Iwill divide fairly."
The coins which had been gathered from the slain at Fulford were mostlyof copper and silver, and were not very well shaped. With these wereseveral pieces of gold, none of them as large as a five-dollar piece.
"Not any greenbacks," remarked Ned, as he pocketed his share. "Moneygoes far here, though, and a fellow earning a dollar a day is a mogulin England in these times. Father Brian says you can buy a horsefor five dollars and a farm for fifty. These coppers are as big assaucepans, and one of 'em will pay for a night's lodging at the bestYork hotel."
If he might otherwise have had some conscientious scruples concerningthe source of this supply of money, he was willing to leave all thatto so good a man as the missionary, and to consider the cash as theordinary spoils of war.
"I couldn't give it back to its old owners, if I wanted to," hethought. "War is war, anyhow, and this invasion is a great piece ofpiracy from beginning to end. I am a kind of Norse Viking pirate,myself."
Now that he was really inside the walls of the city of York, heconsidered that he was under a necessity for beginning to seem, if notalso to feel, exceedingly English, or rather Danish-Saxon. Thousandsof angry fugitives from the Fulford fight and thousands more offresh arrivals from the interior were likely to be roaming around thestreets. Every man of them would have a weapon with him, and was sureto have revengeful feelings toward either a favourite of Tostig or ayoung Viking.
"The fact is," thought Ned, "I'm a kind of spy, and they shoot spies assoon as they catch them. I won't do them any harm, anyhow."
There was nothing in his dress or appearance to distinguish him, forhis helmet and his mail and shield were as like as two peas to such aswere worn or carried by the English soldiery.
"All the hotels will be crowded," he said to Father Brian. "I shouldn'twonder if we had to sleep in one of the streets."
"No, we will not," replied his friend. "I have a direction to ahostelry. It is a place of entertainment for man and beast that isattached to one of the churches. It is likely to be quiet and is goodenough if a man can get nothing better."
"Any kind of coop will do for me," said Ned. "I'm not half soparticular about that as I am about getting under cover. I want to seeall there is of this town, too."
"That is thy duty," said the missionary, "and thou wilt see but littleof me before Sunday. I have to pay my respects to the bishop, as thouknowest."
Ned, the son of Webb, did not really know anything whatever about themanner in which things were managed in the Northumberland churches, buthe was quite willing to do his sightseeing or his business for Tostigby himself. His friend led the way to the hostelry and left him there,and as yet neither of them had been spoken to by anybody.
"Well!" remarked Ned to himself, shortly afterward, sitting by a smalltable with very good mutton chops before him. "So this is a tavern inYork! I declare! When I came through the front door of it, I thoughtit looked more like a jail. Quiet kind of place where ministers come,like Father Brian and his friends? Those fellows at the other table areawfully quiet--only I don't understand a word of their jangle. Therecome their swords! It's a fight!"
The dining-room was large, with a wooden floor and tolerably good plainfurniture. The plates and cups were clean, and most of them were ofheavy pewter ware. Even napkins of linen were supplied; but he had notyet seen a yard of cotton goods. Of course there were several tables,and around one of these had been sitting half a dozen rough-lookingmen. None was in mail, but two wore steel corselets. The others hadlarge round shields or targets, and all were provided with swords.They had talked loudly, rudely, from the moment that they sat down,and it seemed that they were angrily discussing the battle and thetreaty with the King of Norway. Louder, fiercer grew their hot dispute,until one of them struck another a blow with his fist, and all sprangto their feet, every man drawing his sword as he did so. The two whohad quarrelled were target men, and in a moment more there was aringing of steel upon blades and bucklers. Nobody made any attempt atinterference, even the tavern waiters looking on almost unexcitedly,as if at a common, every-day incident. Several persons lounged in fromother rooms, and the faces of women peered through open doorways.
"Why don't they call for the police?" exclaimed Ned, without gettingup. "They ought to be sent to the station-house. I'll finish my chops,anyhow, for I guess I'm safe away in this corner of the room."
His keen hunger helped his wisdom, and he ate very fast, becomingconscious as he did so that there were inquiring eyes aimed at him.
Both of the combatants were evidently experienced swordsmen, and asyet all the fight had been mere rattle, when a third target bearerswaggered over toward Ned, saying something to him in a tongue whichmight be almost any kind of old English.
"He means mischief," thought Ned. "I'd better be ready for him. I won'tlet him stick me for nothing."
He did not say a word aloud, but in an instant he was on his feet,shield on arm, blade in hand. He was really but just in time, for hissudden movement had been taken for a challenge, and the ruffian struckat once. The first pair paused in their sword-play, as if they had hadbrawl enough, or rather as if they were more
deeply interested in thisunexpected skirmish with an entire stranger.
"Hullo!" said Ned, loudly, as they came closer around him, "the fellowcan't fence! I punched him through the sword arm as if he had beenmade of putty."
"HE WAS REALLY BUT JUST IN TIME, FOR THE RUFFIAN STRUCKAT ONCE."]
His burly antagonist had indeed been disabled at the third pass, for hehad been accustomed to parry almost altogether with his buckler, andmodern science was against him. He dropped his heavy broadsword andstared at Ned in astonishment, while all the lookers-on clapped theirhands.
"It won't do to talk Norway here," thought Ned. "I'll just bother themwith New York English instead of anything there is in old York."
So he did, as man after man, even his assailant, came forward tocompliment him on his prowess. He might have felt better, perhaps, ifhe had understood an explanation made by one of them to the others.
"The youth cometh from Cornwall," he told them. "I have often heardtheir speech, which none may understand. He belongeth to Harold theEarl, the king. All the Cornishmen have those tricks with a blade. Hehath earned his peace. Do ye all let him alone, for the king's sake."
Ned followed with some severe remarks about good manners to strangers,the police court, and the state prison, and they all swaggered out ofthe tavern, declaring that they had had good sport for the day, andthat they thought well of King Harold's Cornish fighters.
The keeper of the inn came to have a look at Ned, and was easily madeto understand that the next thing required by the Cornish gladiatorwas another mutton chop, somewhat less rare if possible. Ned's addedrequest for a cup of coffee and some custard pie was not so perfectlycomprehended, for none came. He felt a great deal better after dinner,although he did not so much as imagine what new country he had now beenborn in or how very much improved was his social position so far asthat hotel was concerned.
He was duly conducted to the room assigned him, and it was in somerespects the best he had had since leaving the United States ofAmerica. It was, indeed, as he declared of it, a narrow bit of crib,with slits in the wall for windows, but he was pleased to find that itcontained a bowl and pitcher of water, and a couple of good towels.Even the bed was not a bunk, but stood upon legs and had a strawmattress, sheets, and a hair pillow. This was luxury.
"It's more than I ever saw in Norway," he remarked. "There isn't anyelevator in this building, though, and I don't believe there is a boxof blacking in England. I sha'n't hear any fellow calling after me tolet him shine 'em up."
The remainder of that day and all of Saturday went by like a dream, sobusy was Ned with his spying into the affairs of York. He knew that hewas in one of the old historic cities of England. Here had been a townof the ancient Britons, and the Romans, when they conquered them, hadmade a prosperous place of it. There were Roman walls and houses yet,and all the wider streets, as Ned said of them, "kind o' talked Latin."
The Saxons, when they came, had slaughtered the Roman-Britishpopulation in accordance with the existing laws of war. All the streetsof their making, with some that were older, were narrow as well asdirty.
"They are dusty enough, too, just now," remarked Ned. "I guess thereisn't much of a street-cleaning department in the city government. Nostreet sprinkling. Not a sidewalk anywhere, nor any street lamps nortelegraph poles. Every fellow plays policeman for himself. If he isn'tof the kind they allow to wear a sword, he carries a big club and hasa long sheath-knife in his belt. About these days all the women seemto be keeping indoors--without any pianos or stationary washtubs orsewing-machines."
He saw several fine churches and palaces, but the latter and all ofthe larger dwellings were like so many private forts, expecting to bebesieged and defended sometime or other.
"This is a queer way to live," he thought, "with a half-grown-up wararound you all the while. I've looked at the walls, too. They'd standanything but artillery. I guess a few of our heavy shells would sendall that stonework flying."
On Sunday morning Father Brian appeared again at the tavern as he hadpromised to do. He seemed in good spirits, but he wore a mysteriousair, as if he were prudently concealing something. He inquired withfriendly interest concerning all of Ned's explorations around York.
"My boy," he then remarked, "thou wilt be able to make a good reportto Tostig the Earl when he cometh into the city, but I will not permitthee to make it until then. I will tell thee one thing more, if it willkeep thee quiet. The Saxon guards at the Derwent side gates wouldsplit thy head for thee if thou shouldst attempt to go out of the trapthat hath been set for Hardrada."
"I don't mean to be split," replied Ned, "but what is the trap?Hardrada's army is to march in before sunset to-morrow. I can see theearl then."
"If he getteth in, my boy," laughed the knowing missionary. "That isthe trap. Keep thy mouth shut and save thy head from a pole-ax. Theywould cleave thee to the jaws for a word. Edwin and Morcar have savedall the time that was needed for their plan to work. They were to giveKing Hardrada a hundred and fifty important men for hostages, and nota soul of them will ever need to leave his house. The Norway armywill begin Monday with eating and drinking and getting ready to put agarrison into York, but when they come to try that they will find outwhat the trap is."
"Dost thou know it?" asked Ned.
"I am not a blind one," replied the twinkling-eyed man from Ireland."When I saw Edwin and Morcar skirmishing for every hour of time, Ihardly needed to be told the rest of it. Mark thou this, my boy, forthy life! Thou and I belong to Harold the Earl, the King of England,unless thou shalt see the raven flags of Hardrada inside the walls ofYork. It will be long before thou doest that, I think."
The King of Norway was apparently in no doubt whatever concerning theentire good faith of the two English earls. He considered them alreadyhis own subjects. Many of the great men of Northumberland had held amass convention, and had voted to accept him as their ruler. Everythingwas working well, therefore, and he felt sure that his new kingdom hadbeen at least half won for him by his great victory at Fulford.
Nevertheless, according to agreement, Saxon warriors were as yetkeeping stern guard at all the gates of York.
"I saw them," said Ned to himself. "I won't run against their spears,either. One of 'em would go right through me. I'll find just a littlemore, though, and then I'll get out, if I have to climb over the walls.I don't see any trap, if Father Brian does, but if there is one, I'mgoing to warn Tostig. I wonder if he suspects anything? Maybe that'sthe reason why he sent me in."
Without ever having been sworn in, as he called it, for a regularsoldier of the King of Norway, he considered himself a part of theinvading army, and he meant to do his duty by his general so far as hecould. This was, therefore, a time of intense excitement for him aswell as for others, and when Monday morning came he and his reverendfriend were up and out early.
"Come on, my boy," said Father Brian. "If thou wilt go with me to theother side of the city, where the bridge over the Ouse letteth in thesouthern highway through the wall gate, I may be able to show thee thatwhich it would be worth the while of Tostig thine earl to know."
"That's what I want," exclaimed Ned. "I'll get it to him, somehow.We'll take the trolley-cars--" There he stopped short, for his friendwas striding away.
Ned followed him, and he was beginning to be aware of a new and strangeidea which made him tingle all over. He felt desperate, warlike, and hechanged his shield from over his shoulder to its fighting-place uponhis left arm, while he gripped his spear tightly as if he expected touse it.
Perhaps it was his appearance of angry excitement which got him intohis next bad scrape, for other men also were in a dangerous state ofmind. The Ouse gate had been almost reached, and Father Brian wasseveral paces in advance. Just here, however, at a sharp turn of thewinding, alley-like street, they came unexpectedly upon a furious mobof the lowest kind of Danes and Angles. They were club and knife men,of course, wearing no armour. They were nothing more than so manyfierce, wild, ignorant, and cruel savages.
"Upon him! Upon him!" they yelled, at once, in their own dialect. "Helooketh like a Norwegian! Down with him! Club him to the death!"
That they might have done quickly, but for Ned's helmet and shield andthe lively use he made of his spear. They were many, however, and itwas well for him that he could back against a house wall so that theycould not get behind him.
"This is awful!" he exclaimed. "I guess I'm done for. I prodded thatfellow. I wish I had Lars here and a dozen Vikings, or Sikend theBerserker."
They were far away, indeed, but at that moment he heard a ringingIrish war-cry. Then, as he desperately plied his spear and shielded hishead from clubs as best he might, he saw the long-handled pole-ax ofFather Brian flashing swiftly, murderously, upon the shaggy crowns andshoulders of his brutal, barbarous assailants.
Down they were going, like so many human ninepins, when a great,tumultuous shouting arose in the direction of the gate. Ned did notget its meaning, but all the ruffians who were still upon their feetshouted as if in reply to it and sprang away.
"Thou hast fought well, my boy," said the missionary. "Art thou hurt?"
"I'm banged pretty well," said Ned, "but what is all that shouting?"
"Come thou along in haste," said his friend, "I will show thee what itis. The city of York will close no gate against the man that is comingnow. He bringeth woe to all the host of Hardrada, and I think thou wiltdeliver no report to Tostig the Earl this day. On! On to the gate!"
"If it is anything worth while I'll see that the earl gets it," repliedNed, "but my shield hath had all the style clubbed out of it. Oh, howmy arm aches--and my head!"