On the morning of the third day we had news of King Cadwallon that he was hunting with a company of his nobles and attendants in a forest not very far southwestward of his capital, and to this place we took our course, the Kentish man who led being well acquainted with the region and all its devious wood-paths. It was not long before we neared the forest where the hunt was, a region where the guide told me were many stags and not a few of the brown bear, and soon we came upon parties of the huntsmen, who gazed upon me curiously but who did not molest us but gave instruction as to where to look for the king. It was mid-afternoon when we came to where he had paused for rest and meat after the long chase of the morning.
There were many tents pitched in a pleasant glade in the midst of the forest, one of them a pavilion larger than the others, and this was the king’s. We were halted by guards with spears scattered in a ring about the brief camping place, who, after our leader had told his mission, sent one with him to the king’s tent, and kept the remainder of us with them. It was not long before the Kentish man returned and said that I was to go with him at once. He took me to the guard at the door of the great tent, and by this guard I was taken within and so before the king.
There were a goodly company assembled there of chiefs and nobles and fair and stately ladies who had taken their dinner with the king and now were moving around and talking together, but who, as I was brought in, ceased in their conversation and looked upon me with much interest, from which I judged that my story was already known to them—as indeed it proved to be. I stood now before King Cadwallon, and there took note of what manner of man he was. It seemed the Kentish man had told me of him well. He was of manly height and framed like a good warrior, but his face was somewhat drawn and the look in his eyes was not of one who felt his power supreme. Richly garbed he was and grave and stately of demeanour, yet lacked his eye the eagle flash. Naught have I to say against this King Cadwallon, naught, though it came to pass that I knew him well indeed and never did his friendship fail me, but I could have wished him to be of a front more confident and even arrogant, since he had about him such wild and untamed lords and chiefs of clans. I shall not disapprove Cadwallon.
The king addressed me gravely, saying that already he somewhat understood my story, and asked me that I tell it to him with more fulness, as affecting, it might be, his own decision in the matter of his course toward me. I must perforce obey, and so related to him more completely than to the Lady Goneril all circumstances of the voyage which brought me such evil fortune, ending with what I thought a not unwise addition to the effect that we Vikings had no war with Britons and had never sailed against them.
To all I said Cadwallon listened most patiently and, it seemed to me, almost with approbation. He answered that it was very true that we had not forayed in Britain and had done no harm at any time, save it might be that some reckless ones had captured a few currachs of the fishermen who ventured too far at sea, for which no grudge was held against us, and he added, what was to me most heartening and promising, that we were kindred in spirit, while not of blood, in hatred of the Roman and that, at this time, we were counted, not as enemies, but as allies in whatever of war was likely to come to either of us. Then he spoke still further to me, who had of a sudden become most emboldened and at ease, saying that, having known of me from Lady Goneril and of my degree in my own land, he had it in mind to deal with me as one of rank and one having knowledge of the sea and ships and also of the Romans, and so to offer me service with him, with such command as might be later determined.
Here was sudden change of fortune surely for a shipless man and prisoner in a strange land! At first I knew not what reply to make; then as it came upon me how many of my friends were slain and how bereft I was of all things while here was opportunity for adventure which might lead to important happenings, I was inclined to accept the service, though still I hesitated, for a Norseman is ever a Norseman utterly. Then rose before me the face of a woman standing in a chariot, to whom I had given a great wordless pledge, and I paused no longer! I swore to give good service to the king and, raising me from my bent knee, he declared me one among his chieftains and bade me join the nobles about and make new friends, with one to aid me who was waiting. Then turned I and looked again into the eyes of Goneril!
Most prideful and stately seemed the lady, yet, in her dark beauty, there was laughter in her eyes as she took me by the hand and led me among the company, making me known to many of them and saying, as she laughed, that the king had accorded me her thrall, since she had taken me prisoner. I was, she said, to lead her little company to her uncle’s hold, there to acquire a better knowledge of Britain speech and Britain forests and ways of fighting, until I should be called to closer service by Cadwallon. I was well received by most, though some were silent, and I saw among the company of nobles not a few who seemed to have in them the stuff of hardy fighting men, though not of such breed as were in Jutland. Some slight acquaintance made I, but there was little time—besides, my mind was much on Goneril.
Next morning, with a slender train, we set out on our way through Kent. Only a rune-maker should tell of that too short journey through the Kentish woods and winding pathways. It is not in me to give a sense of its sweet flavour. Not many words we said at first, but we did not need them. We only knew—we two, each proud and close of heart—but knew as others might not know it, yet the trees knew it, and the birds and squirrels in the trees knew, and the horses upon which we rode. Only the men who followed us could fail to know!
We came upon the evening of the second day to the hold of Gerguint, who had married Bera, the aunt of Goneril, where we were received as became the princess’ rank, and where I was accorded as pleasing welcome, for a messenger had arrived ahead of us to tell of my degree.
Of Gerguint, whom the Romans later called Carvilius, I must now speak freely, as soon he proved himself to me, and of him I cannot speak too well. A strong prince of a strong fourth among the Kentishmen, he was one after my own heart, fearing nothing and having that understanding which makes one of high blood know of and recognize that which may be in another. It was in his mind to be to me as a close friend, and so he was from the beginning, hunting with me and showing to me all the differences there were between the Viking and the British ways, both in the chase and in the modes of warfare. Much he delighted to go forth with me in my Viking ship, which had been brought along the coast and drawn into a twining small river entering his lands, from which place we made short voyages along the coast. The Britains were not worthy as sailors and this was soon perceived by Gerguint, who now desired that they should build them better vessels, learning the things which would serve greatly for their own defense, and this he sought to bring to the attention of the king. So he and I became good friends.