Nicanor - Teller of Tales Part 31

"Nay, for my lord and his wife and daughter. I am sent ahead to find lodging for them. They are on the road to Rutupiae, to take ship for Gaul, and travel by way of Londinium, where my lord hath affairs to settle; but the women have given out and vow that they will go no farther. So do the chickens break for cover when the hawk swoops."

His voice was slightly contemptuous. He turned his face, covered with a wiry red beard, upon Wardo. His eyes, small and light, glinted from a network of wrinkles under reddish brows.

"You are no Roman," he said abruptly.

"Why, no," said Wardo, somewhat surprised, "I am Saxon."

"Like myself," said the stranger, grandly. "Men call me Wulf, the son of Wulf."

"There is an inn here," said Wardo, without returning information. "I will show you, if you like. It is kept by Christians, and it is clean."

"Then it will be poor," Wulf grumbled, "and the wine will not be fit for decent men."

"There you are wrong," said Wardo. "It is where my lord Eudemius stops with his train when he pa.s.seth through here."

"So!" Wulf's glance held awakening curiosity. "The lord Eudemius of the white villa south of Bibracte?"

"That same," said Wardo, with the pride of a servant in a well-known master.

"One hears tales of that house these days," said Wulf, casually. "See, friend, when I have made arrangement for my lords and brought them hither, is there not a place where we might find a mouthful of good Saxon ale?"

Wardo hesitated.

"I fear my time is too short," he answered. "Even now I am late--"

"For the maid who awaits thee?" said Wulf, with a chuckle. "Well, I'll not keep thee then. But this much I'll tell thee now. When my lord sails with his familia from Rutupiae, it will be without Wulf, the son of Wulf.

I have it in mind to stay here longer; there will be fat pickings for Saxons by and by, when these Roman lords are crowded out. Hast heard that?"

"Ay," said Wardo. "I have heard it."

"And it is in my mind also to try for some of these same fat pickings,"

said Wulf, and laughed. "Why not I, as well as any man?"

"If you wait for these Roman lords to be crowded out, as you have it,"

said Wardo, "it will be some time before these fat pickings fall to your lot."

"Perhaps not so long time as one might think," Wulf retorted. "Hast heard of what happened at Anderida?"

"Oh, ay," said Wardo. "The lord governor of Anderida fled to the house of my lord."

Wulf's glance became all at once as keen as a gaze-hound which sights its prey.

"Had he his son, called Felix, with him, a cat-eyed rascal, who was wounded?"

"Yes," said Wardo, quite proud to tell his news. "And on the evening of the feast the lord governor and his men rode away again. But he left his son behind him."

A gleam shot into Wulf's light eyes.

"So?" he said pleasantly. "Perhaps, then, this son Felix is still a guest of your lord?"

"Ay, so he is," Wardo returned. "Which is to say that he was there when I rode away, and that is now six days ago." In his turn he shot a glance at the red-beard from his steely eyes. "Now why should you ask these things, friend gossip? What concern is this son Felix of yours?"

"Merely that all men like to know what is happening these days. What else? But know you how the man got his wound? Nay, I thought not.

Perhaps you know that the leader of that band of Saxons and those insurgent Romans, called Evor, was slain in that affair at Anderida?"

"No," said Wardo. "I did not know that. Who slew him?"

"Felix," answered Wulf.

Wardo looked somewhat startled.

"Then this is why he remained behind!" he exclaimed. His face awoke to a new thought. "Why, death of a dog! if this Evor's men pa.s.s through the Silva Anderida and hear that this lord Felix is at the villa, there may be trouble for my lord."

"Ay," said Wulf. There was a certain grimness in his tone. "The son of Evor hath sworn to have the blood of his father's slayer; therefore it is quite likely."

"How come you to know these things?" Wardo demanded. The stranger's manner was always casual to indifference, and Wardo was not over keen to see what he was not looking for. His question came more from curiosity than from suspicion, although of this there was something also.

"News travels fast these days," Wulf said briefly. "I got it from a carter who saw something of the business. I hope you do not think that I was there? Now where is this inn of yours? I must find it and hasten back to my lord."

By now they had reached a cobbled street no wider than an alley, running at right angles to the main street, which led from ford to ford. Down this they rode abreast, and there was room for no other horseman to pa.s.s them. Bare-shouldered girls laughed down at them from upper windows; bent crones hobbled from door to door with baskets of fish or produce; children and dogs scampered from under their horses' feet. The evening sunshine fell in long slanting shadows down the dusty street, stabbing shafts of golden light into dark doorways.

Wardo saw Wulf to the door of the "cleanest inn on Thorney," watched him enter, and wheeled his horse. Back again then he rode, with no more than a glance for the long-haired girls who leaned to him from windows, and with a recklessness which sent the dogs and children flying. He turned into the main street, back toward the marsh-ford, and galloped the length of it until he reached a house which stood the third from the end, next to a half-burnt ruin where cattle had been stalled, with a narrow door in a blank wall which betrayed nothing.

Before this he flung his horse back upon its haunches, leaped lightfoot to the ground, and hammered on the door. The wicket was opened a s.p.a.ce and closed; then the door was opened. He entered, and it closed after him.

Two hours later Wulf, the son of Wulf, came down the street in the dim twilight, on foot, walking with a swagger. Out of the saddle he was seen to be short and stunted, with legs badly bowed. His breath proclaimed loudly that he had stopped at sundry wine-shops on the way. He was pa.s.sing unconcernedly, when a whinny from a horse standing before a door caught his ear, and he stopped.

"Light of my eyes, I've seen this beast before," he muttered, going closer to look. "Why, sure, he's the horse of that long-legged yellow-head of mine. Ay, here's the brand I noted on the shoulder.

So--we shall see what we shall see."

He knocked boldly upon the door. The wicket opened.

"What will you?" a woman's voice asked from within.

"A friend of mine entered here a little time ago," Wulf began glibly.

"Many have entered here," said the voice. "Who is your friend?"

Wulf's laugh covered a moment of embarra.s.sment.

"Why, in truth, I do not care to name his name aloud," he said. "If you will let me in, I will see if he be still here."

The door opened. Wulf stepped inside, confronting a tall girl, full-throated, long-limbed, with face of purest Grecian outline. Wulf's single keen glance took in the girl, her attire, and the room behind her. His manner changed at once.

"Your friend may not be here," said the girl.

Wulf advanced.