Then before the astonished soldiers could stir she leapt the bushes in the rear, gathering her plaid and tent up as she went, and made for the wood, and in a moment was out of sight. There was a slight movement among the villagers, and some shouted, “Take him, he will escape.” But Feargus drew back the string of that mighty bow till the chief man’s son cried, “Stay, stay, or he will slay my father!” while the old man trembled. Then Torfrida blew her whistle, and promptly Feargus leapt on to his horse and, sitting with back to the beast’s head, kept his arrow fixed on the old man. Then, speaking a word to the beast, it dashed through the fence in the track of its fellow; and the angry villagers saw them depart, but might not follow for fear of that terrible bow. When he had quite disappeared they took horse and lifted horn and rode after him, for greatly were they put to shame at being outwitted through fear for one man. So they rode and ran and raised a great hue and cry. But Feargus and Torfrida rode on nor stopped until Torfrida was faint for very weariness. Then said Feargus, “Here let us draw up, for thou art much distressed, and so withal are the poor beasts. To-morrow we must on again—little rest is there for us or them.” He gathered whin in the open and other bushes and made a fence and put Torfrida and also the beasts within, kindling a fire to scare the wild creatures. Then he went forth to gather food for the horses, sweet grasses, and corn which he had bought in the village. And he came upon a deer and shot it and cut it up and cooked it, and they ate with great heartiness. And the beasts lay still beside him, so tame were they grown, and so keen were their ears they could tell from afar the coming of any wild creature, and then Feargus would rise up with his sword and lift a faggot to scare it. But so keen did Feargus himself soon become that no sound or mark escaped him. So it was that he kept out of the track of men, until after wandering through mire and moss they drew out of the lands of the North English, thinking to enter the great wild which lay between Lune and Wharfe and stretched well nigh to Solway and the western seaboard. And they struck across the moorlands of Wharfe towards Cumbria, but so heavy was the road that the days came and went and saw them but little on their path. Oft-times they despaired of ever seeing Alban, and their hearts were heavy when they thought of all the gate they had yet to go. And ever the winter drew nearer and filled Feargus with dread. So they strayed among the glens, and every night he would find a place of safety for Torfrida. Sometimes he would make her a tent among the whins and bracken, sometimes would stretch over the heather the skins of the many animals he had slain; at times in caves or ’mongst the rocks of some mountain or cataract he stretched her tent on stakes of wood and there she would sleep serene. Then he would set forth on foot in search of food. So on they sped, lying now on the bare brae side, now in wild glens, ever faring northward. And the nights grew cold and the snell wind swept keen up the glens or over the bleak braes, and now the wolves and wild beasts drew nearer at night, for the frost fell upon the earth and left them scant of food.
CHAPTER XX
HOW FEARGUS FELL AMONG THIEVES
It chanced one night that Feargus went forth on foot and wandered over the moors, finding nothing for his arrows. And his white horse followed him like a dog, now stopping a hundred paces behind to crop the grass, now running forward as it listed. At length, being weary, Feargus sat him down not noticing that hard by him were the remains of a camp fire. He laid his sword aside him and unloosened his harness and fell to thinking, and was right sad when he minded him of all Torfrida had come through for his sake. “Better,” said he, “would it have been had I died by Osbert’s hands, in sooth.” Then suddenly he got a blow on the head and was seized by each shoulder, while a man stepped forward and lifted his sword and turned it against him.
“Now yield ye, sir Redbeard, for whoever thou be,” said one.
Then Feargus seized the one who held his right arm and swung him to the earth and the one to the left he struck with his clenched fist and then dashed upon him who held the sword, but the robber instantly struck him with it in the shoulder that the blood spurted forth, and then another ran forward with a bow and fitted an arrow thereto and made to shoot him. Then Feargus paused, for he thought what would befall Torfrida alone on the moor, and he felt the blood running from him, for he had had his byrny unloosed as also the shirt of mail that clad him to the elbow, so that he had no defence against his foes. Then he reasoned that it would be better to give way now and escape afterwards if chance offered. So he allowed them to bind his hands, whereupon those whom he had hurt fell upon him and beat him sorely, stripping off his byrny, and ever he bled; but when they went to lift his shirt of mail from him he said, “Coward swordsmiths are ye, for ye have beaten a wounded foe who is a prisoner and without arms, and now go for to strip him of his mail though the night be keen for a whole man and worse for a wounded one, and it will do ye little good for there is not one among your company who is of size to wear it.” Then one who was the captain among them struck him upon the mouth in answer. Feargus uttered an oath in Gaelic, whereupon the captain again struck him, and then they took him one on either side and walked on, but one of the company came forward drawing forth a kerchief. “Better he would walk, perchance,” said he, “if the blood were staunched, for he groweth faint and hard work were it to carry so long a loon.” So the robber bound his wound and that not without skill or tenderness. Then did Feargus mutter faintly in his own tongue, “Thanks to thee for I see thou art a man, whatever company it be that thou art in.”
They went on down into the glen, but Feargus was too faint to mark the way, his head swam and he had no sense left, but there was before him a vision of Torfrida seated on the moor midst a handful of pine trees, with the beasts lying near, for he never doubted that the white horse would find his way back to her, and she waiting vainly for his return. The robbers led him westwards, down the glen, and there among the rocks they entered a large cavern, the mouth of which could not be seen from any distance outside. The place was filled with peat-reek from a great fire, and at the further end they led him into a smaller cave, one of the men showing the way with a lighted faggot. Dark and cold and damp the place was, and the water trickled down the walls in sickly streams, but Feargus recked not but fell down amidst of it on the floor and slept. In the night he wakened, feeling stiff and full of pain, weak and an hungered. He thought again of Torfrida on the moor, and his heart grew sick. At length one came to him and brought him food, and said he, “Our captain bids me tell thee that an thou wilt join his band thou shalt live, despite the hurt thou hast give him; but an thou refusest thou shalt die.”
So Feargus ate and drank and slept, and, there being no light, he could not tell whether it were night or day when he awoke, but of a sudden some one whispered to him in his native tongue—