Page 98 of The Evening and the Morning
The men of Dreng’s Ferry set out, heading downstream on the right bank of the river, and Edgar began to feel that his scheme was working. They stopped at the farmhouse, and Erman and Eadbald joined the group. At the last minute Cwenburg decided to come, too. She was almost four months pregnant, but it hardly showed, and she was strong.
The horses turned out to be a hindrance. They were fine where the bank was grassy, but often there was dense forest, and they had to be led through closely entangled shrubs and saplings. Zeal and excitement diminished among men and dogs as the going became more strenuous.
Degbert said: “Are we sure she came this way? Her homeland lies in the opposite direction.”
This made Edgar anxious.
Fortunately Dreng disagreed with his brother. “She’s headed for Combe,” he said. “She thinks she won’t draw attention there. A big town always has strangers. It’s not like a village, where every traveler has to explain himself.”
“I don’t know,” said Degbert.
Nobody knew, fortunately, Edgar thought, so they had to go with their best guess, and this was it.
Soon they came to Theodberht Clubfoot’s place. A slave was minding the sheep with the help of a dog. The dog barked, and Edgar recognized its voice as the one he had heard in the middle of the night. It was a good thing dogs could not talk.
Theodberht came limping out of the house, followed by his wife. He said: “What’s the hue and cry for?”
“My slave escaped last night,” Dreng said.
“I know her,” said Theodberht. “I’ve noticed her in the alehouse. A girl about fourteen.” He seemed about to say more, then glanced at his wife and changed his mind. Edgar guessed he had done more than just notice Blod.
“You haven’t seen her in the last twelve hours?” Dreng asked.
“No, but someone passed here in the night. The dog barked.”
“That will have been her,” Dreng said decisively.
The others agreed enthusiastically, and spirits were lifted. Edgar was pleased. Theodberht’s dog had done him an unexpected favor.
Dreng said: “When your dog barked, was it early in the night, or approaching dawn?”
“No idea.”
Theodberht’s wife said: “It was about the middle of the night. I woke, too.”
Theodberht said: “She could be a long way from here by now.”
“Never mind,” said Dreng. “We’ll catch the little bitch.”
“I’d join you,” said Theodberht, “but I’d only slow you down.”
Dreng grunted, and the group moved on.
Soon afterward, they came to a place Edgar had not seen in the dark. A few yards inland from the river was a fenced corral with three ponies. By the gate of the corral was the biggest mastiff Edgar had ever seen, lying under a crude shelter. He was tied up by a rope just long enough to permit him to attack anyone trying to get at the horses. Alongside the corral was a house in poor condition.
“The horse catchers,” Degbert said. “Ulf and Wyn.” There were wild ponies in the forest, shy and nimble, difficult to spot, hard to catch, and highly resistant to being tamed. It was a specialized way of life and the people who followed it were rough-and-ready types, violent to the animals and unsociable with humans.
Two people came out of the house: a small, wiry man and his somewhat larger wife, both wearing dirty clothes and stout leather boots. Ulf said: “What do you want?”
Dreng said: “Have you seen my slave? A Welsh girl about fourteen.”
“No.”
“Did anyone pass here in the night? Did your dog bark?”
“He’s not meant to bark. He’s meant to bite.”
“Would you give us a cup of ale? We’ll pay for it.”
