CHAPTER XXII
HOW THEY FELL AMONG FOES
So they stayed there on the hillside for a week and then arose and went forward, but with heavy hearts and weary feet, leaving behind them Torfrida’s palfrey, which had died for very weariness; and the two wept as they went forth once more across the wilderness. At length they drew near to a broad burn which they crossed, and, faring on, soon beheld a town to the left of them and knew not in what country they were, but feared they had come too far to the east and had entered Northumbria. They pressed on till they drew nigh to the town and anon met men coming forth of it, but these stared aghast at sight of them and fled, so wild were their looks and so lean and haggard their faces. At length they came to a herdsman’s shieling high up on the hills, and Torfrida went in and found the herd with his wife sitting by the ingle. When the wife beheld her she let forth a scream; then said Torfrida, “Nay, good people, have no fear, for I am a woman of thine own country and an hungered, yet gold have we to pay thee for such shelter as thou canst give.”
“The lady is beautiful and looks good—she is welcome to all we have.”
“Nay, but I ask the boon also for my lover who is without, but so great of stature is he and so wild are his looks from much travail that we twain have come through, that methought he might fear thee.”
“Yea let him enter also.”
Then Feargus entered and sat him down, and the people were Northumbrians, and when the good wife saw him she said, “Now thou art a man indeed!” So they fared well in that house for three weeks, and Feargus waxed strong again, as did Torfrida, and light of heart, for it seemed as though their troubles were ended, since here they did not know him for Feargus. At length they minded them of their journey, and Feargus brought forth his beast that looked well and stout as of old, and rejoiced his master’s heart. Their host then found a good beast for Torfrida, and they rode out and sought to escape the town, but they had hardly won clear of it ere a party of soldiers met them and hailed Feargus and questioned him and, judging him to be a foreigner, took him before the king, who knew him for Feargus. Then were they cast each into a dungeon, while a messenger was sent to king Sigmund and Osbert, the king’s friends, telling of their capture. Now none had seen that under his rags Feargus wore a byrny, and his jailors, being half afraid of him owing to the tales of his strength and fierceness, which were common among the Northumbrian soldiery, had left him his sword and bow. They lay in the prison for a week, and the dungeon of Feargus was such that he could not hold himself upright therein, and the walls were dank with water. He looked about for means of escape, and soon knew by slight sounds that there was a person in the cell next him and so he knocked on the wall, thinking it might be Torfrida, and at once heard an answering knock. Then, his heart beating fast for gladness, he set about digging at the wall with his sword, and dug with great labour all the night, and by morning had wrought so well that one of the stones was loosened and he lifted it out and they spoke together. Then said she, “See how the Northumbrians treat a king’s daughter,” and he saw that there were chains about her, but dreading that he might brain him, the jailor had left the manacling of his male prisoner until such times as he might be weak from lack of food.
Feargus worked for two nights and days until he had removed another stone, and could creep through the opening. He then set to work to cut away the stone which held the bolt in the door of Torfrida’s cell, taking the stones of the wall by which he entered in and out each day, and returning to his own cell at the hour at which the jailor brought his prisoners’ food, for he came first to Torfrida’s cell. Then he told Torfrida to hold herself in readiness, and at length one night lay down before the door of his dungeon, so that when the man came in he fell over him, and Feargus sprang upon him and stunned him, then tearing his jerkin into shreds, twisted them into a rope and bound him with it that he might not rouse the men who stood on guard. He then bade Torfrida to follow, and forth they sped in the cool night wind towards the water, and no man stopped them. So they won the sea and walked along the coast towards where the shipping lay. There they found many small boats lying, and entered into one of them, and, fearing to linger, put out to sea. In her they found water and a little meat, but she was open to the seas. They rowed till they were out of sight of land and then turned northwards by the stars. They kept out at sea so that in the day they could just make out the distant shore.
Then Feargus thought that Torfrida was like to die, for she fainted, and lay for long as one in death.
On the second day the wind blew cold and Torfrida was sore distressed, and in the night it arose to a tempest and they were tossed about for many hours, the boat flying before the wind so that they had no mastery over her. When the day dawned they found that they had been driven out to sea and had lost sight of the coast, and they were mightily afraid thereat. At length on the fourth day the sea grew calm and the wind fell. Then Feargus took to his oars, but no sight of land could he get, and he steered him as he best might. They had little meat to eat the while, or water to drink, for their store had been but scant at the beginning. He rowed ever on till weariness fell upon him, and still he rowed, and daily saw Torfrida dwining before his eyes. His heart smote him, for was it not by his own doing that so great trouble had fallen upon her? Soon they had neither bite nor sup left, and the cold winds cut them to the quick. Then Feargus thought that Torfrida was like to die, for she fainted, and lay for long as one in death. There came to him the thought of slaying himself; he waited long but at last she awoke, and he drew his sword and cut his arm and poured the blood down her throat till she revived. Then he bound up his arm that she might not know wherewith he had fed her. Once more he took the oars, though full faint himself, and sped on, but hope was dead in him and he listed not whither he went. And all through the night the cold stars look down upon the little boat bearing the gaunt man, who seemed like to one in a dream, who nor feeling nor sense hath of earthly things, yet ever plyeth his oars monotonously. His eyes were glassy, and fixed ever on the white-faced woman who lay at his feet with the marks of death already upon her. And neither he nor she spake, nor had done for many days. As the night wore through the big man ceased to move to and fro, and drawing with a last effort his oars from the water, fell backward into the bottom of the boat. So, until the sun was high in the lift. Then he started up but knew not where he was nor what thing had befallen him, but only saw that not a bowshot from him was a line of grey cliff, mist-haunted, bird-inhabited, and washed by mighty waters whose thunder echoed continually along the crags. Then did he know himself and staggered up and shouted, “Land, land!” And dimly through the mist of her half-consciousness Torfrida knew that they were saved.