A King's Comrade: A Story of Old Hereford

by Charles W. Whistler

We three ran forward, and with us came Erling, with a second spear for me. The horses were in charge of some thralls who had gathered to us. Then it was to be seen who should win the honour of first spear to touch that dun hide. Gymbert was already waiting his time, wheeling his horse round to find an opening among the hounds, and Sighard cried to him to let us have a chance, laughing. Whereon he reined his horse back somewhat, and we paid no more heed to him. One has no time to mind aught behind one when the boar is at bay.

One of our fresh hounds ran in, and in a moment was howling on his back before the boar, whose white tusk and dun jowl were reddened as he glared in fury at us from his fiery eyes. Then across the hound I had my chance, and I ran in with levelled spear.

There was a shout, and some one gripped my arm and swung me aside with force enough to fling me to the ground. As I fell, the broad, flashing blade of a spear passed me, and then in a medley, as it were, I saw the boar charge over the hound and across my legs, and I heard a wild stamping and the scream of a wounded horse.

I leaped to my feet, dumb with anger, and saw the end of that. Gymbert's steed was rearing, and one of the foresters was trying to catch his bridle, while the boar was away down the glade with the unwounded hounds after him, and a broken spear in his flank. And then my three comrades broke into loud blame of Gymbert, in nowise seeking to use soft words to him.

Then I saw that the flank of the horse was gashed as with a sword cut, and that the face of the rider was more white and terrified than should have been by reason of such a mishap. The horse dragged its bridle from the hand of the forester, and reared again, and then fell heavily backward, almost crushing Gymbert. However, he had foreseen it, and was off and rolling away from it as it reached the ground. I heard the saddletree snap as it did so.

"Hold your peace, master," said Erling to me, before I could speak; "leave this to us."

I looked at the Dane in wonder, and saw his face white with wrath, while Sighard was plainly in a towering rage. The Mercian thane was looking puzzled, but well-nigh as angry, and the foresters were silently helping up their leader, or seeing to the horse, which did not rise.

"A foul stroke, Master Gymbert," said Sighard, going up to the marshal; "a foul spear as ever was! Had it not been for his man yonder, you had fairly spitted my friend the paladin. Ken you that?"

"How was I to know that he was going to run in?" said Gymbert, trying to bluster. "He crossed my horse, and it is his own fault if he was in the way of the spear."

"One would think that you had no knowledge of woodcraft," said Sighard, with high disdain. "Heard one ever of a mounted man coming in on a boar while a spear on foot was before him? Man, one needs eyes in the back of one's head if you are about."