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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:37 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:41:37 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/13215-0.txt b/13215-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5dbc873 --- /dev/null +++ b/13215-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9459 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13215 *** + +Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Æscendune: + +A Tale of the Days of Saint Dunstan, + +by the Rev. A. D. Crake. + + +Contents + + PREFACE. + CHAPTER I. “THIS IS THE FOREST PRIMEVAL.” + CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE OF ÆSCENDUNE. + CHAPTER III. LEAVING HOME. + CHAPTER IV. LONDON IN THE OLDEN TIME. + CHAPTER V. TEMPTATION. + CHAPTER VI. LOWER AND LOWER. + CHAPTER VII. “THE KING IS DEAD!—LONG LIVE THE KING!” + CHAPTER VIII. THE CORONATION. + CHAPTER IX. GLASTONBURY ABBEY. + CHAPTER X. ELFRIC AND ALFRED. + CHAPTER XI. THE FLIGHT OF DUNSTAN. + CHAPTER XII. AT HIS WORST. + CHAPTER XIII. THE RETURN OF ALFRED. + CHAPTER XIV. EDWY AND ELGIVA. + CHAPTER XV. THE ROYAL GUEST. + CHAPTER XVI. NAKED THOUGH LOCKED IN STEEL. + CHAPTER XVII. THE SLEEP OF PEACE. + CHAPTER XVIII. THE BATTLE. + CHAPTER XIX. EARTH TO EARTH, AND DUST TO DUST. + CHAPTER XX. “AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT.” + CHAPTER XXI. “UNDER WHICH KING? “ + CHAPTER XXII. LOVE STRONG AS DEATH. + CHAPTER XXIII. VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY. + CHAPTER XXIV. SOW THE WIND, AND REAP THE WHIRLWIND. + CHAPTER XXV. “FOR EVER WITH THE LORD.” + + + + +PREFACE. + + +It has been the aim of the Author, in a series of original tales told +to the senior boys of a large school, to illustrate interesting or +difficult passages of Church History by the aid of fiction. Two of +these tales—“Æmilius,” a tale of the Decian and Valerian persecutions; +and “Evanus,” a tale of the days of Constantine—he has already +published, and desires gratefully to acknowledge the kindness with +which they have been received. + +He is thus encouraged to submit another attempt to the public, having +its scene of action in our own land, although in times very dissimilar +to our own; and for its object, the illustration of the struggle +between the regal and ecclesiastical powers in the days of the +ill-fated and ill-advised King Edwy. + +Scarcely can one find a schoolboy who has not read the touching legend +of Edwy and Elgiva—for it is little more than a legend in most of its +details; and which of these youthful readers has not execrated the +cruelty of the Churchmen who separated those unhappy lovers? While the +tragical story of the fate of the hapless Elgiva has been the theme of +many a poet and even historian, who has accepted the tale as if it were +of as undoubted authenticity as the Reform Bill. + +The writer can well remember the impression the tale made upon his +youthful imagination, and the dislike, to use a mild word, with which +he ever viewed the character of the great statesman and ecclesiastic of +the tenth century, Dunstan, until a wider knowledge of history and a +more accurate judgment came with maturer years; and testimonies to the +ability and genius of that monk, who had been the moving spirit of his +age, began to force themselves upon him. + +Lord Macaulay has well summed up the relative positions of Church and +State in that age in the following words: “It is true that the Church +had been deeply corrupted by superstition, yet she retained enough of +the sublime theology and benevolent morality of her early days to +elevate many intellects, and to purify many hearts. That the sacerdotal +order should encroach on the functions of the chief magistrate, would +in our time be a great evil. But that which in an age of good +government is an evil, may in an age of grossly bad government be a +blessing. It is better that men should be governed by priest craft than +by brute violence; by such a prelate as Dunstan, than by such a warrior +as Penda.” + +The Church was indeed the salt of the earth, even if the salt had +somewhat lost its savour; it was the only power which could step in +between the tyrant and his victim, which could teach the irresponsible +great—irresponsible to man—their responsibility to the great and awful +Being whose creatures they were. And again, it was then the only home +of civilisation and learning. It has been well said that for the +learning of this age to vilify the monks and monasteries of the +medieval period, is for the oak to revile the acorn from which it +sprang. + +The overwhelming realisation of these facts, the determination to set +up the dominion of truth and justice which they held to be identical +with that of the Church, as that was identical with the kingdom of God, +supplies the key to the lives and characters of such men as Ambrose, +Cyril, Dunstan, and Becket. They each came in collision with the civil +power; but Ambrose against Justina or even Theodosius, Cyril against +Orestes, Dunstan against Edwy, Becket against Henry Plantagenet—each +represented, in a greater or less degree, the cause of religion, nay of +humanity, against its worst foes, tyranny or moral corruption. + +Yet not one of these great men was without his faults; this is only to +say he was human; but more may be admitted—personal motives would mix +themselves with nobler emotions. Self would assert her fatal claims, +and great mistakes were sometimes made by those who would have +forfeited their lives rather than have committed them, had they known +what they were doing. Yet, on the whole, their cause was that of God +and man, and they fought nobly. Shall we asperse their memories because +they “had this treasure in earthen vessels”? + +The tale itself is intended to depict what the writer believes to be +the true relative positions of Edwy and the great ecclesiastic; +therefore he will not attempt to deal with the subject here. It will be +noticed however, that he has shorn the narrative of the dread +catastrophe with which it terminated in all the histories of our +childhood. Scarcely any writer has made such wise research into the +history of this period as Mr. E. A. Freeman, and the author has adopted +his conclusions upon this point. With him he has therefore admitted the +marriage of Edwy with Elgiva, although it was an uncanonical marriage +beyond all doubt, and has given her the title of queen, which she bore +in a document preserved by Lappenburg. But, in agreement with the same +authority, the writer feels most happy to be able to reject the story +of Elgiva’s supposed tragical death. All sorts of stories are told by +later writers, utterly contradictory and confused, of a woman killed by +the Mercians in their revolt. This could not be Elgiva, for she was not +divorced till the rebellion was over; and even the sad tale that she +was seized by the officers of Odo, and branded to disfigure her beauty, +rests on no good authority. In spite of the reluctance with which men +relinquish a touching tragedy, the calumny should be banished from the +pages of historians; and it is painful to see it repeated, as if of +undoubted authenticity, in a recent popular history for children by one +of the greatest of modern novelists. + +Edwy’s character has cost the writer much thought. He has endeavoured +to paint him faithfully—not so bad as all the monastic writers of the +succeeding period (the only writers with few exceptions) describe him; +but still such a youth as the circumstances under which he became +placed would probably have made him—capable of sincere attachment, +brave, and devoted to his friends, yet careless of all religious +obligations; bitterly hostile to the Church, that is to Christianity, +for the terms were then synonymous; and reckless of obligations, or of +the sanctity of truth and justice. + +His measures against St. Dunstan, as they are related in the tale, have +the authority of history; although it is needless to say that the +agents are in part fictitious characters. The writer’s object has been +to subordinate fiction to history, and never to contradict historic +fact; if he has failed in this intention, it has been his misfortune +rather than his fault; for he has had recourse to all such authorities +as lay in his reach.i Especially, he is glad to find that the character +he had conceived as Edwy’s perfectly coincides with the description +given by Palgrave in his valuable History of the Anglo-Saxons: + +“Edwy was a youth of singular beauty, but vain, rash, petulant, +profligate, and surrounded by a host of young courtiers, all bent on +encouraging and emulating the vices of their master.” + +Another object of the tale has been to depict the trials and +temptations, the fall and the recovery, of a lad fresh from a home full +of religious influences, when thrown amidst the snares which abounded +then as now. The motto, “Facilis descensus Averno,” etc, epitomises the +whole story. + +In relating a tale of the days of St. Dunstan, the author has felt +bound to give the religious colouring which actually prevailed in that +day. He has found much authority and information in Johnson’s +Anglo-Saxon Canons, especially those of Elfric, probably +contemporaneous with the tale. He has written in no controversial +spirit, but with an honest desire to set forth the truth. + +It may be objected that he has made all his characters speak in very +modern English, and has not affected the archaisms commonly found in +tales of the time. To this he would reply, that if the genuine language +were preserved, it would be utterly unintelligible to modern +Englishmen, and therefore he has thought it preferable to translate +into the vernacular of today. The English which men spoke then was no +more stilted or formal to them than ours is to us. + +Although he has followed Mr. Freeman in the use of the terms English +and Welsh, as far less likely to mislead than the terms Saxons and +Britons, and far truer to history, yet he has not thought proper to +follow the obsolete spelling of proper names; he has not, e. g., spelt +Edwy, Eadwig or Elgiva, Ælfgifu. Custom has Latinised the appellations, +and as he has rejected obsolete terms in conversation, he has felt it +more consistent to reject these more correct, but less familiar, +orthographies. + +The title, “First Chronicle of Æscendune,” has been adopted, because +the tale here given is but the first of a series of tales which have +been told, but not yet written, attaching themselves to the same family +and locality at intervals of generations. Thus, the second illustrates +the struggle between Edmund Ironside and Canute; the third, the Norman +Conquest; etc. Their appearance in print must depend upon the +indulgence extended to the present volume. + +In conclusion, the writer dedicates this book with great respect to +Mrs. Trevelyan, authoress of “Lectures upon the History of England;” +whose first volume, years ago, first taught him to appreciate, in some +degree, the character of St. Dunstan. + +All Saints’ School, Bloxham, + +_Easter_ 1874. + + + + +CHAPTER I. +“THIS IS THE FOREST PRIMEVAL.” + + +IT was a lovely eventide of the sunny month of May, and the declining +rays of the sun penetrated the thick foliage of an old English forest, +lighting up in chequered pattern the velvet sward thick with moss, and +casting uncertain rays as the wind shook the boughs. Every bush seemed +instinct with life, for April showers and May sun had united to force +each leaf and spray into its fairest development, and the drowsy hum of +countless insects told, as it saluted the ears, the tale of approaching +summer. + +Two boys reclined upon the mossy bank beneath an aged oak; their dress, +no less than their general demeanour, denoted them to be the sons of +some substantial thane. They were clad in hunting costume: leggings of +skin over boots of untanned leather protected their limbs from thorn or +brier, and over their under garments they wore tunics of a dull green +hue, edged at the collar and cuffs with brown fur, and fastened by +richly ornamented belts: their bows lay by their sides, while quivers +of arrows were suspended to their girdles, and two spears, such as were +used in the chase of the wild boar, lay by them on the grass. They had +the same fair hair, which, untouched by the shears, hung negligently +around neck and shoulder; the same blue eyes added an indescribable +softness to the features; they had the same well-knit frames and agile +movements, but yet there was a difference. The elder seemed possessed +of greater vivacity of expression; but although each well-strung muscle +indicated physical prowess, there was an uncertain expression in his +glance and in the play of his features, which suggested a yielding and +somewhat vacillating character; while the younger, lacking the full +physical development, and somewhat of the engaging expression of his +brother, had that calm and steady bearing which indicated present and +future government of the passions. + +“By Thor and Woden, Alfred, we shall be here all night. At what hour +did that stupid churl Oscar say that the deer trooped down to drink?” + +“Not till sunset, Elfric; and it wants half an hour yet; see, the sun +is still high.” + +“I do think it is never going to set; here we have been hunting, +hunting all the day, and got nothing for our pains.” + +“You forget the hare and the rabbit here.” + +“Toss them to the dogs. Here, Bran, you brute, take this hare your +masters have been hunting all day, for your dinner;” and as he spoke he +tossed the solitary victim of his own prowess in the chase to the huge +wolfhound, which made a speedy meal upon the hare, while Alfred threw +the rabbit to the other of their two canine companions. + +“I would almost as soon have lost this holiday, and spent the time with +Father Cuthbert, to be bored by his everlasting talk about our duties, +and forced to repeat ‘_hic, hæc, hoc_,’ till my head ached. What a long +homily ii he preached us this morning —and then that long story about +the saint.” + +“You are out of spirits. Father Cuthbert’s tales are not so bad, after +all you seemed to like the legend he told us the other night.” + +“Yes, about our ancestor Sebbald and his glorious death; there was +something in that tale worth hearing; it stirred the blood—none of your +moping saints, that Sebbald.” + +“I once heard another legend from Father Cuthbert, about the burning of +Croyland Abbey, and how the abbot stood, saying mass at the altar, +without flinching or even turning his head, when the Danes, having +fired the place, broke into the chapel. Do you not think it wanted more +bravery to do that in cold blood than to stand firm in all the +excitement of a battle?” + +“You are made to be a monk, Alfred, and I daresay, if you get the +chance, will be a martyr, and get put in the calendar by-and-by. I +suppose they will keep your relics here in the priory church, and you +will be St. Alfred of Æscendune; for me, I would sooner die as the old +sea kings loved to die, surrounded by heaps of slain, with my sword +broken in my hand.” + +It was at this moment that their conversation was suddenly interrupted +by a loud crashing of boughs in the adjacent underwood, a rush as of +some wild beast, a loud cry in boyish tones—“Help! help! the wolf! the +wolf!” + +Elfric jumped up in an instant, and rushed forward heedless of danger, +followed closely by his younger brother, who was scarcely less eager to +render immediate assistance. + +The cries for help became more and more piercing, as if some pressing +danger menaced the utterer. Elfric, who, in spite of his flippant +speech, was by no means destitute of keen sympathies and self devotion, +hurried forward, fearless of danger, bounding through thicket and +underwood, until, arriving upon a small clearing, the whole scene +flashed upon him. + +A huge grey wolf, wounded and bleeding, was about to rush for the +second time upon a youth in hunting costume, whose broken spear, broken +in the first encounter with the beast he had disturbed, seemed to +deprive him of all chance of success in the desperate encounter +evidently impending. His trembling limbs showed his extreme +apprehension, and the sweat stood in huge drops on his forehead; his +eyes were fixed upon the beast as if he were fascinated, while the +shaft of his spear, presented feebly against the coming onslaught, +showed that he had lost his self possession, for he neglected the bow +and arrows which were slung at his side—if indeed there was time to use +them. + +The beast sprang, but as he did so another spear was stoutly presented +to meet him, and he literally impaled himself in his eager spring on +the weapon of Elfric. + +Still, such was his weight that the boy fell backward beneath the +mighty rush, and such the tenacity of life that, though desperately +wounded, even to death, the beast sought the prostrate lad with teeth +and claws, in frantic fury, until a blow from the hunting knife, which +Elfric well knew how to use, laid the wolf lifeless at his side. + +Breathless, but not severely injured, he rose from the ground covered +with blood; his garments torn, his face reddened by exertion, and +paused a moment, while he seemed to strive to repress the wild beatings +of his heart, which bounded as if it would burst its prison. + +But far more exhausted was the other combatant, yet scarcely so much by +exertion as by fear, of which he still bore the evident traces. After a +few moments he broke the silence, and his words seemed incoherent. + +“Where is my horse? the beast threw me—I wish the wolves may get him—I +fear you are hurt; not much, I hope; where can those serfs be? Fine +vassals, to desert their master in peril. I’ll have them hung. But, by +St. Cuthbert, you are all covered with blood.” + +“’Tis that of the wolf, then, for I have scarcely a scratch: one of the +beast’s claws ripped up my sleeve, and the skin with it; that was all +he could do before he felt the cold steel between his ribs.” + +“Not a moment too soon, or he would have killed you before we could +interfere; why, as you rolled together, I could hardly see which was +boy and which was wolf. But where’s my horse? Did you see a white horse +rush past you?” + +“We heard a rush as of some wild animal.” + +“Wild enough. I was riding through the glade, and my attendants were on +in front, when we stumbled on this wolf, crouched under that thicket. +The horse started so violently that it threw me almost upon the monster +you have killed.” + +Here the speaker paused, and blew impatient blasts upon a horn which +had been slung round his neck. They were soon answered, and some +attendants, dressed in semi-hunting costume, made their appearance with +haste and confusion, which showed their apprehensions. + +“Guthred! Eadmer! Why did you get so far away from me? I might have +been killed. Look at this monstrous wolf; why, its teeth are dreadful. +It broke my spear, and would have had me down, but for this—this youth. + +“I forgot, I haven’t asked to whom I am indebted. Aren’t you two +brothers?” + +“Our father is the Thane of Æscendune. His hall is not far from here. +Will you not go home with us? We have plenty of room for you and +yours.” + +“To be sure I will. Æscendune? I have heard the name: I can’t remember +where. Have you horses?” + +“No; we were hunting on foot, and expecting to let fly our shafts at +some deer. May I ask, in return, the name of our guest?” + +Before the youth could answer, one of the attendants strode forward, +and with an air of importance replied, “You are about to receive the +honour of a visit from the future lord of Britain, Prince Edwy.” + +“Keep your lips closed till I give you leave to open them, Guthred. You +may leave me to announce myself. + +“I shall be only too glad to go with you both; and these two huntsmen +deserve to be left in the forest to the mercy of your wolves.” + +Somewhat startled to find that they had saved the future Basileus or +King of Britain—the hope of the royal line of Cerdic —the brothers led +their guest through the darkening forest until the distant light of a +clearing appeared in the west, and they emerged from the shadow of the +trees upon the brow of a gentle hill. + +Below them lay the castle (if such it should be called) of their father +the Thane of Æscendune. Utterly unlike the castellated buildings which, +at a later period, formed the dwellings of the proud Norman nobility, +it was a low irregular building, the lower parts of which were of +stone, and the upper portions, when there was a second story, of thick +timber from the forest. + +A river, from which the evening mist was slowly rising, lay beyond, and +supplied water to a moat which surrounded the edifice, for in those +troublous times few country dwellings lacked such necessary protection. +The memory of the Danish invasions was too recent; the marauders of +either nation still lurked in the far recesses of the forest, and +plundered the Saxon inhabitant or the Danish settler indiscriminately, +as occasion served. + +On the inner side of the moat a strong palisade of timber completed the +defence. One portal, opening upon a drawbridge, formed the sole +apparent means of ingress or egress. + +Passing the drawbridge unquestioned, the boys entered the courtyard, +around which the chief apartments were grouped. Before them a flight of +stone steps led to the great hall where all the members of the +community took their meals in common, and where, around the great fire, +they wiled away the slow hours of a winter evening. + +On each side of the great hall stood the bowers, as the small +dormitories were called, furnished very simply for the use of the +higher domestics with small round tables, common stools, and beds in +recesses like boxes or cupboards. Such were commonly the only sleeping +chambers, but at Æscendune, as generally in the halls of the rich, a +wide staircase conducted to a gallery above, from each side of which +opened sleeping and sitting apartments allotted to the use of the +family. It was only in the houses of the wealthy that such an upper +floor was found. + +On the right hand, as they entered the courtyard, stood the private +chapel of the household, where mass was said by the chaplain, to whom +allusion has been already made, as the first duty of the day, and where +each night generally saw the household again assembled for compline or +evening prayers.iii On the left hand were domestic offices. + +Upon the steps of his hall stood Ella, the Thane of Æscendune, the +representative of a long line of warlike ancestors, who had occupied +the soil since the Saxon conquest of Mercia. + +He was clad in a woollen tunic reaching to the knee, over which a cloak +fastened by a clasp of gold was loosely thrown; and his feet were clad +in black pointed boots, while strips of painted leather were wound over +red stockings from the knee to the ankle. + +“You are late, my sons,” he said, “and I perceive you have brought us a +visitor. He is welcome.” + +“Father,” said Elfric, in a voice somewhat expressive of awe, “it is +Prince Edwy!” + +The thane had in his earlier days been at court, and had known the +murdered Edmund, the royal father of his guest, intimately. It was not +without emotion, therefore, that he welcomed the son to his home, and +saluted him with that manly yet reverential homage their relative +positions required of him. + +“Welcome, thrice welcome, my prince,” he said, “to these humble halls.” +He added, with some emotion, “I could think the royal Edmund stood +before me, as I knew him while yet myself a youth.” + +The domestics, who had assembled, gazed upon their visitor with country +curiosity, yet were not wanting in rude but expressive courtesy; and +soon he was conducted to the best chamber the house afforded, where +change of raiment and every comfort within the reach of his host was +provided, while the cooks were charged to make sumptuous additions to +the approaching supper. + + + + +CHAPTER II. +THE HOUSE OF ÆSCENDUNE. + + +The earlier fortunes of the house of Æscendune must here obtrude +themselves upon the notice of the reader, in order that he may more +easily comprehend the subsequent pages of our veritable history. + +Sebbald, the remote ancestor of the family, was amongst the earliest +Saxon conquerors of Mercia. He fell in battle with the Britons, or +Welshmen as our ancestors called them, leaving sons valiant as their +sire, to whom were given the fertile lands lying between the river Avon +and the mighty midland forests, to which they gave the name +“Æscendune.” + +They had held their own for three hundred years with varying fortunes; +once or twice home and hearth were desolated by the fierce tide of +Danish invasion, but the wars subsided, and the old family resumed its +position, amidst the joy of their dependants and serfs, to whom they +were endeared by a thousand memories of past benefits. + +But a generation only had passed since the shadow of a great woe fell +on the family of Æscendune. + +Offa, who was then the thane, had two sons, Oswald the elder, and Ella +the younger, with whom our readers are already acquainted. + +The elder possessed few of the family virtues save brute courage. He +was ever rebellious, even in boyhood, and arrived at man’s estate in +the midst of unsettled times of war and tumult. Weary of the restraints +of home, he joined a band of Danish marauders, and shared their +victories, enriching himself with the spoils of his own countrymen. +Thus he remained an outlaw, for his father disowned him in consequence +of his crime, until, fighting against his own people in the great +battle of Brunanburgh, iv where Athelstane so gloriously conquered the +allied Danes, Scots, and Welsh, he was taken prisoner. + +The victor king sat in judgment upon the recreant, surrounded by his +chief nobility and vassal kings. The guilt of the prisoner was evident, +nay undenied, and the respect in which his sire was held alone delayed +the doom of a cruel death from being pronounced upon him. + +While the council yet deliberated, Offa appeared amongst them, and, +like a second Brutus, took his place amongst his peers. Disclaiming all +personal interest in the matter, he sternly proposed that the claims of +justice should be satisfied. + +Yet they hesitated to shed Oswald’s blood: the alternative they adopted +was perhaps not more merciful—although a common doom in those times. +They selected a crazy worm-eaten boat, and sent the criminal to sea, +without sail, oar, or rudder, with a loaf of bread and cruse of water, +the wind blowing freshly from off the land. + +Oswald was never heard of again; but after his supposed death, +information was brought to his father that the outlaw had been married +to a Danish woman, and had left a son—an orphan—for the mother died in +childbirth. + +Offa resolved to seek the boy, and to adopt him, as if in reparation +for the past. The effort he had made had cost him a bitter pang, and +the father’s heart was well-nigh broken. For a time the inquiries were +unsuccessful. It was discovered that the mother was dead, that she had +died before the tragedy, but not a word could be learned respecting the +boy, and many had begun to doubt his existence, when, after years had +elapsed, one of the executioners of the cruel doom deposed on his +deathbed that a boy of some ten summers had appeared on the beach, had +called the victim “father,” and had so persistently entreated to share +his doom, that they had allowed him to do so, but had concealed the +fact, rightly fearing blame, if not punishment. The priest who had +attended his dying bed, and heard his last confession, bore the tidings +to Offa at the penitent’s desire. + +The old thane never seemed to lift up his head again: the sacrifice his +sense of duty had exacted from him had been too great for a heart +naturally full of domestic affection, and he sank and died after a few +months in the arms of his younger and beloved son Ella. + +The foundation of the neighbouring priory and church of St. Wilfred had +been the consolation of his later years, but the work was only half +completed at his death. It was carried on with equal zeal by Ella, now +the Thane of Æscendune. + +He married Edith, the daughter of a rich thane of Wessex, and the +marriage proved a most happy one. + +Sincerely religious, after the fashion of their day, they honoured God +with their substance, enriched the church of St. Wilfred, where the +dust of the aged Offa awaited the resurrection of the just, and +continued the labour of building the priory. Day after day they were +constant in their attendance at mass and evensong, and strove to live +as foster parents to their dependants and serfs. + +The chief man in his hundred, Ella acted as reeve or magistrate, +holding his court for the administration of justice each month, and +giving such just judgment as became one who had the fear of God before +him. No appeal was ever made from him to the ealdorman (earl) or +scirgerefa (sheriff) and the wisdom and mercy of his rule were +universally renowned. + +His land was partly cultivated by his own theows, who were in those +days slaves attached to the soil, and partly let out to free husbandmen +(or ceorls) who owed their lord rent in kind or in money, and paid him, +as “his men,” feudal service. + +Around his hospitable board the poor of the district found sustenance, +while work was made for all in draining meres, mending roads, building +the priory, or in the various agricultural labours of the year. + +In the first year of King Edmund the lady Edith presented her lord with +his first-born son, to whom in baptism they gave the name Elfric, and a +year later Alfred was born, and named after the great king. One +daughter, named Edgitha, completed the fruits of their happy union, and +in their simple fashion they strove to train their children in the fear +of the Lord. + +We will now resume the thread of our story. + +It was now the hour of eventide, and the time for “laying the board” +drew near. From forest and field came in ceorl and theow, hanging up +their weapons or agricultural implements around the lower end of the +hall. Meanwhile the domestics brought in large tressels, and then huge +heavy boards, which they arranged so as to form the dining table, +shaped like the letter T, the upper portion being furnished with the +richest dainties for the family and their guest, the lower with simpler +fare for the dependents. + +A wild boar caught in the forest formed the chief dish, and was placed +at the upper end, while mutton and beef; dressed in various ways, +flanked it on either side. + +The thane, Ella, occupied the central seat at the high table: his +chair, rudely carved, had borne the weight of his ancestors before him; +on his left hand was seated the once lovely Edith. Age had deprived her +of her youthful beauty, but not of the sweet expression which told of +her gentleness and purity of heart; they had left their impress on each +line of her speaking countenance; and few left her presence unimpressed +with respect and esteem. + +On his right hand sat Prince Edwy, “Edwy the fair” men called him, and +right well he deserved the name. His face was one which inspired +interest at a glance: his large blue eyes, his golden hair which +floated over his shoulders, his sweet voice, his graceful bearing, all +united to impress the beholders. + +Elfric, Alfred, and their sister Edgitha, completed the company at the +high table. + +The hungry crowd of ceorls and serfs, who were, as we have said, fresh +from field or forest, sat at the lower table, which was spread with +huge joints of roasted meat, loaves of bread, wedges of cheese, piles +of cabbage or other vegetables, rolls or coils of broiled eels, and +huge pieces of boiled pork or bacon. + +Around the table sat the hounds and other dogs, open jawed, waiting +such good luck as they might hope to receive at the hands of their +masters, while many “loaf eaters,” as the serfs were called who fed at +their master’s table, stood with the dogs, or sat on the rush-strewn +floor, for want of room at the board. + +It was marvellous to see how the food disappeared, as hand after hand +was stretched out to the dishes, in the absence of forks—a modern +invention—and huge horns of ale helped the meat downwards. + +Game, steaks of beef and venison on spits, were handed round. The +choicer joints were indeed reserved for the upper board, but profusion +was the rule everywhere throughout the hall, and there was probably not +a serf; nay, not even a dog, whose appetite was not fully satisfied +before the end of the feast. + +The prince seemed thoroughly to have recovered his spirits, somewhat +damped perhaps before by his adventure with the wolf; and exerted his +talents to make himself agreeable. He had seen life on an extended +scale, young as he was, and his anecdotes of London and the court, if a +little wild, were still interesting. Elfric and Alfred listened to his +somewhat random talk, with that respect boys ever pay to those who have +seen more of the wide world than themselves—a respect perhaps +heightened by the high rank of their princely guest, who was, however, +only a month or two older than Elfric. + +As they heard of the marvels of London, and of the court, home and its +attractions seemed to become dim by comparison, and Elfric especially +longed to share such happiness. + +Their father seemed to wish to change the conversation, as he asked the +prince whether he had been long in Mercia. + +Edwy replied, “Nay, my host; this is almost my first day of perfect +freedom, and I only left London, and my uncle the king, a few days +back. Dunstan has gone down to Glastonbury, for which the Saints be +thanked, and I am released for a few days from poring over the musty +old manuscripts to which he dooms me.” + +“It is well, my prince, that you should have a preceptor so well +qualified to instruct you in the arts your great ancestor King Alfred +so nobly adorned.” + +“Ah yes, Alfred,” said Edwy, yawning; “but you know we can’t all be +saints or heroes like him: for my part, I sometimes wish he had never +lived.” + +The astonished looks of the company seemed to demand further +explanation. + +“Because it is always, ‘Alfred did this,’ and ‘Alfred did that.’ If I +am tired of ‘_hic, hæc, hoc_,’ I am told Alfred was never weary; if I +complain of a headache, Dunstan says Alfred never complained of pain or +illness, but bore all with heroic fortitude, and all the rest of it. If +I want a better dinner than my respected uncle gives us on fast days in +the palace, I am told Alfred never ate anything beyond a handful of +parched corn on such days; if I lose my temper, I am told Alfred never +lost his; and so on, till I get sick of his name; and here it greets me +in the woods of Mercia.” + +“I crave pardon, my liege,” said Ella, who hardly knew whether to smile +or frown at the sarcastic petulance of his guest, who went on with a +sly smile—“And now old Dunstan does not know where I am. He left me +with a huge pile of books in musty Latin, or crabbed English, and I had +to read this and to write that, as if I were no prince, but a +scrivener, and had to get my living by my pen; but as soon as he was +gone I had a headache, and persuaded my venerable uncle the king, +through the physician, that I needed change of air.” + +“But what will Dunstan say?” + +“Oh, he must fight it out with Sigebert the leech, and Sigebert knows +which side his bread is buttered.” + +The whole tone of Edwy indicated plainly that the headache was but a +pretence, but he spoke with such sly simplicity that the boys could not +help joining in his contagious laughter; sympathising, doubtless, in +his love of a holiday in the woods. + +“Your headache is not gone yet, I trust, my prince,” said Elfric. + +“Why?” said Edwy, turning his eyes upon him with a smile. + +“Because we have splendid woods near here for hunting, and I must have” +(he whispered these words into Edwy’s ear) “a headache, too.” + +Edwy quite understood the request conveyed in these words, and turning +to the old thane requested him to allow his boys to join the sport on +the morrow as a kind of bodyguard, adding some very complimentary words +on the subject of Elfric’s courage shown in the rescue that afternoon. + +“Why, yes,” said the old thane, “I have always tried to bring up the +boys so as to fear neither man nor beast, and Elfric did indifferently +well in the tussle. So he has earned a holiday for himself and brother, +with Father Cuthbert’s leave,” and Ella turned to the ecclesiastic. + +“They are good boys,” said the priest, “only, my lord, Elfric is +somewhat behind in his studies.” + +Elfric’s looks expressed his contempt of the “studies,” but he dared +not express the feeling before his father. + +“But I trust, my prince,” said Ella, “that we shall not keep you from +your duties at court. Dunstan is a severe, although a holy man.” + +“Oh, he is gone to have another encounter with the Evil One at +Glastonbury, and is fashioning a pair of tongs for the purpose,” said +Edwy, alluding to the legend already current amongst the credulous +populace; “and I wish,” he muttered, “the Evil One would get the best +of it and fly away with him. But” (in a louder tone) “he cannot return +for a month, which means a month’s holiday for me.” + +Ella could interpose no further objection, although scarcely satisfied +with the programme. + +The conversation here became general. It turned upon the subject of +hunting and war, and the enthusiasm of young Edwy quite captivated the +thane, who seemed to see Edmund, the father of the young prince, before +his eyes, as he had known him in his own impetuous youth. Dear, indeed, +had that prince been to Ella, both before and after his elevation to +the throne, and as he heard the sweet boyish voice of Edwy, his +thoughts were guided by memory to that ill-omened feast at +Pucklechurch, where the vindictive outlaw Leolf had murdered his king. +The sword of Ella had been amongst those which avenged the crime on the +murderer, but they could not call back the vital spark which had fled. +“Edmund the Magnificent,” as they loved to call him, was dead. v + +So, as Ella listened, he could hardly help condoning the wild speeches +of the young prince in deference to the memory of the past. + +And now they removed the festive board from the hall, while kneeling +serfs offered basin and towel to the thane and his guest to wash their +hands. Wine began to circulate freely in goblets of wood inlaid with +gold or silver; the clinking of cups, the drinking of healths and +pledges opened the revel, cupbearers poured out the wine. The glee-wood +(harp) was introduced, while pipes, flutes, and soft horns accompanied +its strains. So they sang— + +Here Athelstane king, +Of earls the lord, +To warriors the ring-giver +Glory world-long +Had won in the strife, +By edge of the sword, +At Brunanburgh. + + +And Ella—who had stood by his father’s side in that dread field where +Danes, Scots, and Welshmen fled before the English sword—listened with +enthusiasm, till he thought of his brother Oswald, when tears, +unobserved, rolled down his cheeks. + +Not so with the boys. They had no secret sorrow to hide, and they +listened like those whose young blood boils at the thought of mighty +deeds, and longed to imitate them. And when the gleeman finished his +lengthy flight of music and poesy, they applauded him till the roof +rang again. + +Song followed song, legend legend, the revelry grew louder, while the +lady Edith, with her daughter, retired to their bower, where they +employed their needles on delicate embroidery. A representation in +bright colours of the consecration of the church of St. Wilfred +occupied the hands of the little Edgitha, while her mother wove sacred +pictures to serve as hangings for the sanctuary of the priory church. + +But soon the tolling of the bell announced that it was the compline +hour, nine o’clock, and that hour was never allowed to pass unobserved +at Æscendune, but formed the termination of the labour or the feast, +after which it was customary for the whole household to retire, as well +they might who rose with the early dawn. + +Neither was it passed by on this occasion, although the boys looked +very disappointed, for they would fain have listened to song or legend +till midnight, if not later. + +“Come, my children,” said the thane; “we must rise early, so let us all +commit ourselves to the keeping of God and His holy angels, and seek +our pillows.” + +So the whole party repaired to the chapel, where the chaplain said the +compline office or night song, after which Ella saluted his royal guest +with reverent affection, and bestowed his paternal benediction upon his +children. Then the whole party separated for the night. + +The household was speedily buried in sleep, save the solitary sentinel +who paced around the building. Not that danger was apprehended from any +source, but precaution had become habitual in those days of turmoil. +Occasionally the howl of the wolf was heard from the woods, and the +sleepers half awoke, then dreamt of the chase as the night flew by. + + + + +CHAPTER III. +LEAVING HOME. + + +The sun arose in a bright and cloudless sky on the following morning, +and his first beams aroused every sleeper in the hall of Æscendune from +his couch of straw, for softer material was seldom or never used for +repose. Even the chamber in which the prince slept could not be called +luxurious: the bed was in a box-like recess; its coverlets, worked +richly by the fair hands of the ladies, who had little other +occupation, covered a mattress which even modern schoolboys would call +rough and uncomfortable. + +The wind played with the tapestry which represented the history of +Joseph and his brethren, as it found its way in through crevices in the +ill-built walls. There were two or three stools over which the thane’s +care for his guest had caused coverlets to be thrown; a round table of +rough construction stood like a tripod on three legs, upon which stood +the unwonted luxury of ewer and basin, for most people had to perform +their ablutions at the nearest convenient well or spring. + +Leaving this chamber in good time, Prince Edwy acompanied his new +friends to the priory church, where they heard mass before the sun was +high in the heavens, after which they returned to the hall to take a +light breakfast before they sought the attractions of the chase in the +forest. Full of life they mounted their horses, and galloped in the +wild exuberance of animal spirits with their dogs through the leafy +arches of the forest, startling the red deer, the wolf, or the wild +boar. Soon they roused a mighty individual of the latter tribe, who +turned to bay, when the boys dismounted and finished the affair with +their boar spears, not without some personal danger, and the loss of a +couple of dogs. + +Onward again they swept, past leafy glades of beech trees, where the +swineherd drove his half-tame charges, or where the woodcutters plied +their toil, and loaded their rude carts or hand barrows with fuel for +the kitchen of the hall; past rookeries, where the birds made the air +lively by their noise; over brook, through the half-dry marsh, until +they came upon an old wolf; whom they followed and slew for want of +better game, not without a desperate struggle, in which Elfric, ever +the foremost, got a much worse scratch than on the preceding day. + +But how enjoyable the sport was, how sweet to breathe the bright pure +air of that May day; how grand to outstrip the wind over the yielding +turf, and at last to carry home the trophies of their prowess; the +scalp of the wolf, the tusks of the boar, leaving the serfs to bring in +the succulent flesh of the latter, while the hawks and crows fed upon +the former. + +And then with what appetite they sat down to their “noon meat,” taken, +however, at the late hour of three, after which they wandered down to +the river and angled for the trout which abounded in the clear stream. + +The youthful reader will not wonder that such attractions sufficed to +detain Edwy several days, during which he was continually hunting in +the adjacent forests, always attended by Elfric, and sometimes by +Alfred. To the elder brother he seemed to have conceived a real liking, +and expressed great reluctance to part with him. + +“Could you not return with me to court,” he said, “and relieve the +tedium of old Dunstan’s society? You cannot think what pleasures London +affords; it is life there indeed—it is true there are no forests like +these, but then, in the winter, when the country is so dreary, the town +is the place.” + +“My father will never consent to my leaving home,” returned Elfric, who +inwardly felt his heart was with the prince. + +“We might overcome that. I am to have a page. You might be nominally my +page, really my companion; and should I ever be king, you would find +you had not served me in vain.” + +The idea had got such strong possession of the mind of Edwy, that he +ventilated it the same night at the supper table, but met with scant +encouragement. Still he did not despair; for, as he told Elfric, the +influence of his royal uncle, King Edred, might be hopefully exerted on +their joint behalf. + +“I mean to get you to town,” he said. “I shall persuade my old uncle, +who is more a monk than a king, that you are dreadfully pious, attached +to monkish Latin, and all that sort of thing, so that he will long to +get you to town, if it is only to set an example to me.” + +“But if he does not find that I answer his expectations?” + +“Oh, it will be too late to alter then; you will be comfortably +installed in the palace; and, between you and me, he is but old and +feeble, and has always had a disease of some kind. I expect he will +soon die, and then who will be king save Edwy, and who in England shall +be higher than his friend Elfric?” + +It was a brilliant prospect, as it seemed to boys of fifteen, for such +was the mature age of the speakers. + +Shortly after the last conversation, an express came from the court to +seek the young prince—the messenger had been long delayed from +ignorance of the present abode of Edwy, who had carefully concealed the +secret until he felt he could tarry no longer, fearing the wrath not +only of the king, but of Dunstan, whom he dreaded yet more than his +uncle. + +So he and his attendants, who had, like him, found pleasant +entertainment at Æscendune, bade farewell to the home where he had been +so hospitably entertained: and so ended a visit, pregnant with the most +important results, then utterly unforeseen and unintended, to the +family he had honoured by his presence. + +Some few weeks passed, and under the tuition of their chaplain, who was +charged with their education, Elfric and Alfred had returned to their +usual course of life. + +It would seem somewhat a hard one to a lover of modern ease. They rose +early, as we have already seen, and before breaking their fast went +with their father and most of the household to the early mass at the +monastery of St. Wilfred, returned to an early meal, and then worked +hard, on ordinary occasions at their Latin, and such other studies as +were pursued in that primitive age of England. The midday meal was +succeeded by somewhat severe bodily exercise, generally hunting the +boar or wolf which still abounded in the forests, an excitement not +unattended by danger, which, however, their father would never permit +them to shun. He knew full well the importance of personal courage at +an age when the dangers of hunting were only initiatory to the stern +duties of war, and no Englishman could shun the latter when his country +called upon him to take up arms. Nor were martial exercises unknown to +the boys; the bow, it is true, was somewhat neglected then in England, +but the use of sword, shield, and battle-axe was daily inculcated. + +“_Si vis pacem_,” Father Cuthbert said on such occasions, “_para +arma._” + +Wearied by their exertions, whether at home or abroad, the brothers +welcomed the evening social meal, and the rest which followed, when old +Saxon legend or the harp of the gleeman enlivened the household fire, +till compline sweetly closed the day. + +Swiftly and pleasantly were passing the weeks succeeding the visit of +the prince, when a royal messenger appeared, bearing a letter sealed +with the king’s signet. The old thane, who had passed his youth in more +troublous times, and could scarcely read the Anglo-Saxon version of the +Gospels, then extant, could not construe the monkish Latin in which it +was King Edred’s good pleasure to write. + +So the chaplain, Cuthbert, read him the letter in which the king +greeted his loyal and well-beloved subject, Ella of Æscendune, and +begged of him, as a great favour, that he would send his eldest boy to +court, to be the companion of the young prince, who had (the king said) +conceived a great affection for Elfric. + +“I hear,” added Edred, “that your boy is a boy after his father’s +heart, full of love for the saints, diligent in his studies, and I +trust well qualified to amend by example the somewhat giddy ways of my +nephew.” + +Ella felt that this latter commendation might be better bestowed upon +Alfred, who, although far less full of boyish spirit and energy than +his brother, was far more attached to his religious duties, as also far +more attentive to the wishes of his parents; but his love for Elfric +blinded him to more serious defects in the character of his son, or he +might have feared their development in a congenial soil. + +So the father saw his boy alone, and communicated the contents of the +letter. The news was indeed welcome to Elfric, who panted for travel +and adventure and the freedom he fancied he should get in Edwy’s +society. But Ella hardly perceived this, and enlarged upon the dangers +to which his son would be exposed, and tried to put before the boy all +the “pros “ and “cons” of the question faithfully. + +“He would not keep him back,” he said, “if he desired to leave home,” +but as he uttered the words he felt his heart very heavy, for Æscendune +would lose half its brightness in losing Elfric. + +But Elfric’s choice was already made, and he only succeeded in +repressing his delight with great difficulty, in deference to the +serious aspect and words of his revered sire. But his decision, for it +was left to him, was unchanged, and he stammered forth his desire to be +a man, and to see the world, in words mingled with expressions of his +deep love for his parents, which he was sure nothing could ever change. + +Strange to say, now that the parental consent was gained, and no +obstacle lay between him and the accomplishment of his ardent wish, he +did not feel half so happy as he had expected to feel. Home affections +seemed to increase as the hours rushed by which were to be his last in +the bosom of his family; every familiar object became precious as the +thought arose that it might be seen for the last time; favourites, both +men and animals, had to be bidden farewell. There was the old forester, +the gleeman, the warder, the gardener, the chamberlain, the cellarius, +the cook (not an unimportant personage in Saxon households), the foster +mother, his old nurse, and many a friend in the village. Then there +were his favourite dogs, his pony, some pigeons he had reared; and all +had some claim on his affection, home nurtured as he had been in a most +kindly household. + +But the appointed day came, the horse which was to bear him away stood +at the door, another horse loaded with his personal effects stood near, +for carriages were then unknown, neither would the roads have permitted +their use, so changed were the times since the Roman period. + +His father and mother, his brother and sister, stood without the +drawbridge, where the last goodbye took place; tears started unbidden +to his eyes—he was only fifteen—as he heard the parting blessing, and +as his mother pressed him to her bosom. + +Alfred and his sister Edith seemed almost broken hearted at the +parting. But Elfric tried to bear up, and the end came. + +The little cavalcade left the castle, two attendants, well armed and +mounted, being his bodyguard. + +Again and again he looked back; and when, after a journey of two miles, +the envious woods closed in, and hid the dear familiar home from his +sight, a strange sense of desolation rushed upon him, as if he were +alone in the world. + +The route taken by the cavalcade led them in the first place to +Warwick, even then a flourishing Saxon town: this was the limit of +Elfric’s previous wanderings, and when they left it for the south, the +whole country was strange to him. + +The royal messenger had business at the cathedral city of Dorchester, +at the junction of the Tame and Isis, and they did not take the more +direct route by the Watling Street, the most perfect Roman road +remaining. The land was but thinly peopled, forests covered the greater +portion, and desolate marshes much of the remainder; thus, through +alternate forest and marsh, the travellers advanced along the ruinous +remains of an old Roman crossroad, which had once afforded good +accommodation to travellers, but had been suffered to fall into utter +ruin and decay by the neglect of their successors, our own barbarous +ancestors. + +Originally it had been paved with stone, and causeways had been formed +over marsh and mere, but the stones had been taken away, for the road +formed the most accessible quarry in the neighbourhood. Here and there, +however, it was still good, surviving the wear of centuries, and even +the old mileposts of iron were still existing covered with rust, with +the letters denoting so many Roman miles—or thousands of paces—still +legible. + +A few hours’ riding from Warwick brought them at the close of the day +in sight of Beranbyrig (Banbury), where three centuries earlier a +bloody battle had been fought, vi wherein success—almost for the last +time—visited the British arms, and saved the Celtic race from expulsion +for twenty years. + +The spot was very interesting to Elfric, for here his ancestor Sebbald +had fought by the side of the invading king, Cynric, the son of Cerdic, +and had fallen “gloriously” on the field. + +“Look,” said Anlaf, the guide, “at that sloping ground which rises to +the northwest. There the Welsh (Britons) stood, formed in nine strong +battalions. In that hollow they placed their archers, and here their +javelin men and cavalry were arranged after the old Roman fashion. Our +Englishmen were all in one battalion, and charged them fiercely, when +they were thrown into confusion by the cunning tricks of the Welsh, who +made up in craft what they wanted in manly courage. + +“Look at this brook which flows to the river, it was running with blood +that evening, and our men lay piled in huge heaps where they tried to +scale the hill which you see yonder.” + +“And did the Welsh gain the day so easily?” said Elfric, sorrowfully. + +“I don’t wonder; they were fighting for their lives, and even a rat +will fight if you get him into a corner; besides, they had all their +best men here.” + +“Do you know where Sebbald fell?” said Elfric, referring to his own +ancestor. + +“Just under this hillock, close by King Cynric, who fought like a lion +to save the body, but was unable to do so. The Welsh were then gaining +the day. Still, even his foes respected his valour, and gave your +forefather a fair and honourable burial.” + +Leaving the battlefield, they entered the Saxon town, which was +defended on one side by the Cherwell, on the other by a mound and +palisade, with an outer ditch supplied by the river. Here they found +hospitable entertainment, and left on the morrow for the town of +Kirtlington. + +They left Beranbyrig early, and reached the village of Sutthun (King’s +Sutton), where they perceived a great multitude of people collected +around a well at the outskirts of the village. + +“What are these people doing?” asked Elfric. + +“Oh, do you not know?” replied Anlaf. “This is St. Rumbald’s well,” and +he crossed himself piously. + +“Who was St. Rumbald?” asked Elfric innocently. + +“Oh, he was son of the king of Northumbria, and of his queen, the +daughter of the old king Penda of Mercia, and the strange thing is that +he is a saint although he only lived three days.” + +“How could that be?” + +“Why it was a miracle, you see. On the day after his birth he was taken +to Braceleam (Brackley), where he was baptized, and after his baptism +he actually preached an eloquent sermon to the people. They brought him +back to Sutthun next day, where he died, having first blessed this +well, so that many precious gifts of healing are shown thereat. His +relics were removed first to Braceleam, then to Buccingaham +(Buckingham), where his shrine is venerated by the faithful. But come, +you must drink of the holy water.” + +So they approached the spot, and, after much labour to get at the well, +drank of the water, which had a brackish taste, and proceeded on their +journey southward through Kirtlington, then a considerable city, +although now a small village. It was their intention to pass by the +cathedral city of Dorchester, where Wulfstan was then bishop, where +they arrived on the second night of their journey. + +It was the largest city Elfric had as yet seen, possessing several +churches, of which only one now remains. The hand of the ruthless Danes +had not yet been laid heavily upon it, and the magnificence of the +sacred fanes, built by cunning architects from abroad, amazed the +Mercian boy. + +There was the tomb of the great Birinus, the apostle of Mercia, who had +founded the see in the year 630 A.D., and to whose shrine multitudes of +pilgrims flocked each year. But the remains of Roman greatness most +astonished Elfric. The ruins of the amphitheatre situate near the river +Tame were grand even in their decay, and all the imaginative faculties +of the boy were aroused, as one of the most learned inhabitants +described the scenes of former days, of which tradition had been +preserved, the gladiatorial combats, the wild beast fights. + +The heir of Æscendune found hospitality at the episcopal palace, where +Wulfstan,vii once the turbulent Archbishop of York, held his court. The +prelate seemed favourably impressed with his youthful guest, whom he +dismissed with a warm commendation to Dunstan. + +They left the city early in the morning, and passed through Bænesington +(Benson), which having been originally taken from the Welsh by the +Saxon chieftain Cuthulf, in the year 571, became the scene of the great +victory of Offa, the Mercian king, over Cynewulf of Wessex in the year +777. One of Elfric’s ancestors had fought on the side of Offa, and the +exploits of this doughty warrior had formed the subject of a ballad +often sung in the winter evenings at Æscendune, so that Elfric explored +the scene with great curiosity. Inferior to Dorchester, it was still a +considerable town. + +Late at night they reached Reading, where they slept, and started early +on the morrow for London, where they arrived on the evening of the +fourth day. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +LONDON IN THE OLDEN TIME. + + +London, in the days of King Edred, differed widely from the stately and +populous city we know in these days, and almost as widely from the +elegant “_Colonia Augusta_,” or Londinium, of the Roman period. Narrow, +crooked, and unpaved lanes wound between houses, or rather lowly +cottages, built of timber, and roofed with thatch, so that it is not +wonderful that a conflagration was an event to be dreaded. + +Evidence met the eye on every side how utterly the first Englishmen had +failed to preserve the cities they had conquered, and how far inferior +they were in cultivation, or rather civilisation, to the softer race +they had so ruthlessly expelled; for on every side broken pedestal and +shattered column appeared clumsily imbedded in the rude domestic +architecture of our forefathers. + +St. Paul’s Cathedral rose on the hill once sacred to Diana but was +wholly built within the ruins of the vast temple which had once +occupied the site, and which, magnificent in decay, still surrounded it +like an outwork. Further on were the wrecks of the citadel, where once +the stern legionary had watched by day and night, and where Roman +discipline and order had held sway, while the wall raised by +Constantine, broken and imperfect, still rose on the banks of the +river. Near the Ludgate was the palace of the Saxon king, and the ruins +of an aqueduct overshadowed its humbler portal, while without the walls +the river Fleet rolled, amidst vineyards and pleasant meadows dotted +with houses, to join the mighty Thames. + +Edred, the reigning king of England, was the brother of the murdered +Edmund, and, in accordance with the custom of the day, had ascended the +throne on the death of his brother, seeing that the two infant sons of +the late king, Edwy and Edgar, were too young to reign, and the idea of +hereditary right was not sufficiently developed in the minds of our +forefathers to suggest the notion of a regency. It must also be +remembered that, within certain limits, there was an elective power in +the Witenagemot or Parliament, although generally limited in its scope +to members of the royal family. + +Edred was of very delicate constitution, and suffered from an inward +disease which seldom allowed him an interval of rest and ease. Like so +many sufferers he had found his consolation in religion, and the only +crime ever laid to his charge (if it were a crime) was that he loved +the Church too much. Still he had repeatedly proved that he was strong +in purpose and will, and the insurgent Danes who had settled in +Northumbria had owned his prowess. In the internal affairs of his +kingdom he was chiefly governed by the advice of the great ecclesiastic +and statesman, with whose name our readers will shortly become +familiar. + +Upon the morning after the arrival of Elfric in London, Edwy, the young +prince, and his new companion, sat in a room on the upper floor of the +palace, which had but two floors, and would have been considered in +these days very deficient in architectural beauty. + +The window of the room opened upon the river, and commanded a pleasant +view of the woods and meadows on the Surrey side, then almost +uninhabited, being completely unprotected in case of invasion, a +contingency never long absent from the mind in the days of the sea +kings. + +A table covered with manuscripts, both in Latin and Anglo-Saxon, +occupied the centre of the room, and there Elfric was seated, looking +somewhat aimlessly at a Latin vocabulary, while Edwy was standing +listlessly at the window. The “library,” if it deserved the name, was +very unlike a modern library; books were few, and yet very expensive, +so that perhaps there was no fuller collection in any layman’s house in +the kingdom. There were Alfred’s translations into Anglo-Saxon, the +“_Chronicle of Orosius_,” or the history of the World; the “_History of +the Venerable Bede_,” both in his original Latin and in English; +Boethius on the “_Consolations of Philosophy_;” narratives from ancient +mythology; extracts from the works of St. Augustine and St. Gregory; +and the Apologues or Fables from Æsop.viii + +“Oh, put those stupid books aside,” exclaimed the prince; “this is your +first day in town, and I mean to take a holiday; that surly old Dunstan +should have left word to that effect last night.” + +“Will he not be here soon?” + +“Yes, he is coming this morning, the old bear, to superintend my +progress, and I wish him joy thereof.” + +“What has he given you to do?” inquired Elfric. + +“Why, a wretched exercise to write out. There, you see it before you; +isn’t it a nuisance?” + +“It is not very hard, is it?” + +“Don’t you think it hard? See whether you can do it!” + +Elfric smiled, and wrote out the simple Latin with ease, for he had +been well instructed by Father Cuthbert at Æscendune. + +He had scarcely finished when a firm step was heard upon the stairs. + +“Hush,” said Edwy; “here comes Dunstan. Be sure you look solemn +enough,” and he composed his own countenance into an expression of +preternatural gravity. + +The door opened, and an ecclesiastic in the prime of life entered the +room, one whose mien impressed the beholder with an indefinable awe. + +He was dressed in the Benedictine habit, just then becoming common in +England, and his features were those of a man formed by nature to +command, while they reconciled the beholder to the admission of the +fact by the sad yet sweet smile which frequently played on the shapely +countenance. He was now in the thirtieth year of his age, having been +born in the first year of King Athelstane, and had been abbot of +Glastonbury for several years, although his services as counsellor to +King Edred had led him to spend much of his time in town, and he had +therefore accepted the general direction of the education of the heir +to the throne. Such was Dunstan. + +He seemed but little welcome to Edwy, and the benediction with which he +greeted his pupil was but coldly received. + +Not appearing to notice this, he mildly said, “You must introduce your +young companion to me, my prince. Am I not right in concluding that I +see before me Elfric, heir to the lands of Æscendune?” + +Elfric blushed as he bent the knee to the great churchman to receive +the priestly benediction with which he was greeted, but remained +silent. + +“Father Cuthbert, whom I knew well years agone, has told me about you, +and your brother Alfred; is not that his name?” + +“He is so named, my father.” + +“I am glad to perceive that my royal pupil has chosen so meet a +companion, for Father Cuthbert speaks well of your learning. You write +the Latin tongue, he tells me, with some little facility.” + +Elfric feared his powers had been overrated. + +“I trust you have resumed your studies after your long holiday,” +continued Dunstan. “Youth is the season for sowing, age for reaping.” + +“I have had a very bad headache,” said Edwy, “and have only been able +to write a page of Latin. Here it is, father.” + +And he extended the exercise Elfric had written to the abbot, who +looked at the writing for one moment, and then glanced severely at the +prince. The character was very like his own, but there was a +difference. + +“Is this your handwriting, Prince Edwy?” he asked. + +“Of course. Elfric saw me write it, did you not?” + +Elfric was not used to falsehood; he could not frame his lips to say +“Yes.” + +Dunstan observed his confusion, and he turned to the prince with a look +in which contempt seemed to struggle with passive self-possession. + +“I trust, Edwy,” he said, “you will remember that the word of a king is +said to be his bond, and so should the word of a prince be if he ever +hopes to reign. I shall give Father Benedict charge to superintend your +studies as usual.” + +He wished them a grave good morning, and left the room. + +As soon as the last sound of his steps had ceased, Edwy turned sharply +to Elfric—“Why did you not say yes at once? Surely you have a tongue?” + +“It has never learnt to lie.” + +“Pooh! What is the harm of such a white lie as that would have been? If +you cannot give the credit of a Latin exercise, which you happen to +have written, to your future king, you must be selfish; it is my +writing, if you give it me, isn’t it?” + +Elfric did not quite see the matter in that light, yet did not care to +dispute the point; but his conscience was ill at ease, and he was glad +to change the subject. + +“When can we go out?” he said, for he was anxious to see the city. + +“Oh, not till after the midday meal, and you must see the palace first; +come now.” + +So they descended and traversed the various courts of the building; the +dormitories, the great dining hall, the audience chambers where Edred +was then receiving his subjects, who waited in the anteroom, which +alone the two boys ventured to enter. Finally, after traversing several +courts and passages, they reached the guardroom. + +Three or four of the “hus-carles” or household guards were here on +duty. But in the embrasure of the window, poring over a map, sat one of +very different mien from the common soldiers, and whose air and manner, +no less than his dress, proclaimed the officer. + +“Redwald,” said the prince, advancing to the window, “let me make you +acquainted with my friend and companion, Elfric of Æscendune.” + +The officer started, as if with some sudden surprise, but it passed +away so quickly that the beholder might fancy the start had only +existed in imagination, as perhaps it did. + +“This gallant warrior,” said Edwy to Elfric, “is my friend and +counsellor in many ways; and if he lives there shall not be a thane in +England who shall stand above him. You will soon find out his value, +Elfric.” + +“My prince is pleased to flatter his humble servant,” said Redwald. + +But Elfric was gazing upon the soldier with feelings he could scarcely +analyse. There was something in his look and the tone of his voice +which struck a hidden chord, and awoke recollections as if of a +previous existence. + +“Redwald,” as Edwy named him, was tall and dark, with many of the +characteristics of the Danish race about him. His nose was slightly +aquiline, his eyes hid beneath bushy eyebrows, while his massive jaw +denoted energy of character—energy which one instinctively felt was +quite as likely to be exerted for evil as for good. + +He was captain of the hus-carles, and had but recently entered the +royal service. Few knew his lineage. He spoke the Anglo-Saxon tongue +with great fluency, and bore testimonials certifying his valour and +faithfulness from the court of Normandy, where the Northmen under Rollo +had some half-century earlier founded a flourishing state, then ruled +over by the noble Duke “Richard the Fearless.” + +Edwy seemed to be on intimate terms with this soldier of fortune; in +fact, with all his proud anticipation of his future greatness, he was +never haughty to his inferiors, perhaps we should say seldom, for we +shall hereafter note exceptions to this rule. It would be a great +mistake to suppose that the pomp and ceremony of our Norman kings was +shared by their English predecessors: the manners and customs of the +court of Edred were simplicity itself. + +After a few moments of private conversation with Redwald, the boys +returned to their chamber to prepare for dinner. + +“You noted that man,” said Edwy; “well, I don’t know how I should live +without him.” + +Elfric’s looks expressed surprise. + +“You will find out by and by; you have little idea how strictly we are +kept here, and how much one is indebted to one’s servants for the gift +of liberty, especially in Lent and on fast days, when one does not get +half enough to eat, and must sometimes escape the gloom and starvation +of the palace.” + +“Starvation?” + +“What else do you call it, when you get nothing but fish, fish, fish, +and bread and water to help it down. My uncle is awfully religious. I +can hardly stand it sometimes. He would like to spend half the day in +chapel, but, happily for all the rest of us, the affairs of state are +too urgent for that, so we do get a little breathing time, or else I +should have to twist my mouth all of one side singing dolorous chants +and tunes which are worse than a Danish war whoop, for he likes, he +says, to hear the service hearty.” + +“But it helps you on with your Latin.” + +“Not much of that, for I sing anything that comes into my head; the +singing men make such a noise, they can hear no one else, and I fancy +they don’t know what a word of the Latin prayers means.” + +“But isn’t it irreverent—too irreverent, I mean. Father Cuthbert made +me afraid to mock God, he told such stories about judgment.” + +“All fudge and nonsense—oh, I beg your pardon, it is all very godly and +pious, and really I expect to be greatly edified by your piety in +chapel. Pray, when shall you be canonised?” + +Elfric could not bear ridicule, and blushed for the second time that +morning. Just then the bell rang for dinner, or rather was struck with +a mallet by the master of the ceremonies. + +King Edred dined that day, as one might say, in the bosom of his +family; only Dunstan was present, besides the boys Edwy, Edgar his +younger brother, and Elfric. It was then that Elfric first saw the +younger prince, a pale studious-looking boy of twelve, but with a very +firm and intellectual expression of countenance. He was a great +favourite with Dunstan, whom the boy, unlike his brother, regarded with +the greatest respect and reverence. + +The conversation was somewhat stiff; Edred spoke a few kind words to +the young stranger, and then conversed in an undertone with Dunstan, +the whole dinner time; the princes themselves were awed by the presence +of their uncle and his spiritual guide. + +But at last, like all other things, it was over, and with feelings of +joy the boys broke forth from the restraint. The whole afternoon was +spent in seeing the sights of London, and they all three, for Edgar +accompanied them, returned to the evening meal, fatigued in body, but +in high spirits. Compline in the royal chapel terminated the day, as +mass had begun it. + + + + +CHAPTER V. +TEMPTATION. + + +But a few days had passed before Elfric learned the secret of Redwald’s +influence over the young prince. + +The household of Edred was conducted with the strictest propriety.ix +All rose with the lark, and the first duty was to attend at the early +mass in the royal chapel. Breakfast followed, and then the king on +ordinary days gave the whole forenoon to business of state, and he +thought it his duty to see that each member of the royal household had +some definite employment, knowing that idleness was the mother of many +evils. So the young princes had their tasks assigned them by their +tutor, as we have already seen, and the spare hours which were saved +from their studies were given to such practice in the use of the +national weapons as seemed necessary to those who might hereafter lead +armies, or to gymnastic exercises which strengthened nerve and muscle +for a time of need. + +In the afternoon they might ride or walk abroad, but a strict interdict +was placed upon certain haunts where temptation might perchance be +found, and they had to return by evensong, which the king generally +attended in person when at home. Then, in winter, indoor recreations +till compline, for it was a strict rule of the king that his nephews +should not leave the palace after sundown. + +He further caused their tutor, who directed their education under the +supervision of Dunstan—Father Benedict—whom we have already introduced, +to see that they properly discharged all the duties of public and +private devotion. + +But he did not see, in the excess of his zeal, that he was really +destroying the prospects which were nearest his heart, and that there +can be no more fatal mistake than to compel the performance of +religious duties which exceed the measure of the youthful capacity or +endurance. + +With Edgar, who was naturally pious, the system produced no evil +result; but with Edwy the effect was most sad. He had become, as we +have seen, deceitful; and a character, naturally fair, was undermined +to an extent which neither the king nor Dunstan suspected. + +The reader may naturally ask how could Dunstan, so astute as he was, +make this mistake, or at least suffer Edred to make it? + +The fact was that Dunstan understood the affairs of state better than +those of the heart, and although well fitted for a guide to men of +sincere piety, and capable of opposing to the wicked an iron will and +inflexible resolution, he did not understand the young, and seemed to +have forgotten his own youth. Sincerely truthful and straightforward, +he hardly knew whether to feel more disgust or surprise at Edwy’s +evident unfaithfulness. He little knew that unfaithfulness was only one +of his failings, and not the worst. + +A few nights after Elfric’s arrival, when the palace gates had been +shut for the night, the compline service said, the household guard +posted, and the boys had retired to their sleeping apartments, he heard +a low knock at his door. He opened it, and Edwy entered. + +“Are you disposed for a pleasant evening, Elfric?” + +“Such pleasure as there is in sleep.” + +“No, I do not mean that. We cannot sleep, like bears in winter, during +all the hours which should be given to mirth. I am going out this +evening, and I want you to go with me.” + +“Going out?” + +“Yes. Don’t stand staring there, as if I was talking Latin or something +harder; but get your shoes on again— + +“No; you had better come down without shoes; it will make less noise.” + +“But how can we get out? I have not the least idea where you are +going?” + +“All in good time. We shall get out easily enough. Are you coming?” + +Half fearful, yet not liking to resist the prince, and his curiosity +pressing him to solve the secret, Elfric followed Edwy down the stairs +to the lower hall, where Redwald was on guard. He seemed to await the +lads, for he bowed at once to the prince and proceeded to the outer +door, where, at an imperious signal from him, the warder threw the +little inner portal open, and the three passed out. + +“Is the boat ready?” said Edwy. + +“It is; and trusty rowers await you.” + +Redwald led the way to the river’s brink, and there pointed out a skiff +lying at a short distance from the shore. At a signal, the men who +manned it pulled in and received the two youths on board, then pulled +at once out into the stream. + +“How do you like an evening on the river?” said Edwy. + +“It is very beautiful, and the stars are very bright tonight; but where +are we going?” + +“You will soon find out.” + +Finding his royal companion so uncommunicative, Elfric remained silent, +trusting that a few minutes would unravel the mystery. + +But an hour had passed, during which the boat steadily progressed up +stream, before the watermen pulled in for the shore, and a dark +building loomed before them in dim shadow. + +“Here is the place,” said Edwy. “Be ready, my men, to take us back +about midnight, or a little later;” and he threw some pieces of money +amongst them. + +Passing through a large garden, they arrived at a porch before a stout +door garnished with knobs of iron, which might bid defiance to thief or +burglar. + +“Whose house is this?” asked Elfric. + +“Wait; you shall soon see.” + +The loud knocking Edwy made at the door soon brought some domestics, +who, opening a small wicket, discovered the identity of their principal +visitor, and immediately threw open the door. + +“Thanks,” said Edwy; “we were almost frozen.” + +Passing through a kind of atrium—for the old Roman fashion was still +sometimes followed in this particular—the domestics ushered the +visitors into a room brilliantly lighted by torches stuck in cressets +projecting from the walls, and by huge wax candles upon a table spread +for a feast. The light revealed a small but apparently select party, +who seemed to await the prince: a lady, who appeared to be the mistress +of the mansion; a young girl apparently about the age of Edwy, who, +calling her his fair cousin, saluted her fondly; and two or three +youths, whose gaudy dress and affected manners were strongly in +contrast with the stern simplicity of the times. + +After saluting each person with the greatest freedom, Edwy introduced +his companion. + +“Here is a young novice I have brought to learn the noble art of +merrymaking, of wine and wassail. We have both been literally starved +at the palace—I should say monastery—of Monk Edred today. It is Friday, +and we have been splendidly dining upon salt fish served up on golden +salvers. My goodness! the flavour of that precious cod is yet in my +mouth. Food for cats, I do assure you, and served up to kings. What did +you think of it, Elfric?” + +Elfric was ashamed to say that it had not been so very bad after all. +Truth to say his conscience was uneasy, for he had been brought up to +respect the fasts of the Church, and he saw a trial awaiting him in the +luscious dishes before him. + +“What does it matter?” the reader may exclaim; “it is not that which +goeth into the mouth which defileth a man,” etc. + +True, most wise critic, but it is that which goeth out; and if +disobedience be not amongst the evils which defile, then Adam did not +fall in Paradise when he ate the forbidden fruit. Elfric could not +touch flesh on fast days without the instinctive feeling that he was +doing wrong, and no one can sin against the conviction of the heart +without danger. + +The party now seated themselves, and without any grace or further +preface the feast began. Servants appeared and served up the most +exquisite dishes, of a delicacy almost unknown in England at that day, +and poured rich wines into silver goblets. It was evident that wealth +abounded in the family they were visiting, and that they had expended +it freely for the gratification of Edwy. + +Ethelgiva, the lady of the house, was of noble presence, which almost +seemed to justify the claim of royal blood which was made for her. Tall +and commanding, age had not bent her form, although her locks were +already white. Her beauty, which must have been marvellous in her +younger days, had attracted the attention of a younger son of the +reigning house, and they were married at an early age, secretly, +without the sanction of the king. + +The fruit of their union was Elgiva, a name destined to fill a place in +a sad and painful tragedy; but we are anticipating, and must crave the +reader’s pardon. + +Bright and cheerful indeed was the fair Elgiva at this moment. Her +beauty was remarkable even in a land so famed for the beauty of its +daughters; and the ill-advised Edwy may be pitied, if not altogether +pardoned, for his infatuation, for infatuation it was in a day when the +near tie of blood between them precluded the possibility of lawful +matrimony, save at the expense of a dispensation never likely to be +conceded, since the temperament of men like Odo, the Archbishop of +Canterbury, and of Dunstan, was opposed to any relaxation of the law in +the case of the great when such relaxation was unattainable by the poor +and lowly. + +To return to our subject: + +The feast proceeded with great animation. At first Elfric hesitated +when the meat was placed before him, but he withered, in his weakness, +before the mocking smile of Edwy, and the sarcasm which played upon the +lips of the rest of the company, who perceived his hesitation. So he +yielded, and, shaking off all restraint, ate heartily. + +Dish followed dish, and the wine cup circulated with great freedom. +Excited as he was, Elfric could but remark the loose tone of the +conversation. Subjects were freely discussed which had never found +admittance either in the palace of King Edred or at Æscendune, and +which, indeed, caused him to look up with surprise, remembering in +whose presence he sat. + +But, as is often the case in an age where opinion is severely repressed +in its outward expression, and amongst those compelled against their +will to observe silence on such subjects on ordinary occasions, all +restraint seemed abandoned at the table of Ethelgiva. It was not that +the language was coarse, but whether the conversation turned upon the +restraints of the clergy, or the court, or upon the fashionable +frivolities of the day—for there were frivolities and fashions even in +that primitive age—there was a freedom of expression bordering upon +profanity or licentiousness. + +Edred was mocked as an old babbler; Dunstan was sometimes a fool, +sometimes a hypocrite, sometimes even a sorcerer, although this was +said sneeringly; the clergy were divided into fools and knaves; the +claims of the Church—that is of Christianity—derided, and the principle +freely avowed—“Enjoy life while you can, for you know not what may come +after.” + +Excited by the wine he had drunk, Elfric became as wild in his talk as +the other young men, and as the intoxicating drink mounted to his +brain, seemed to think that he had just learnt how to enjoy life. + +The ladies retired at last, and Edwy followed them. Elfric was on the +point of rising too, but a hint from his companions restrained him. The +wine cup still circulated, the conversation, now unrestrained, +initiated the boy into many an evil secret he had never known earlier; +and so the hours passed on, till Edwy, himself much flushed, came in +and said that it was time to depart, for midnight had long been tolled +from the distant towers of London. + +He smiled as he saw by Elfric’s bloodshot eyes and unsteady gait, as he +rose, upsetting his seat, that his companion was something less master +of himself than usual; he felt, it need hardly be said, no remorse, but +rather regarded the whole thing as what might now be termed “a jolly +lark.” + +“Shall you require bearers, or can you walk to the boat? I do not +wonder you are ill, you have eaten too much fish today; it is a shame +to make the knees weak through fasting in this style.” + +“I—I—am all right now.” + +“You will be better in the air.” + +So, bidding a farewell of somewhat doubtful character to his +entertainers, Elfric was assisted to the boat. The air did not revive +him, he felt wretchedly feverish and giddy, and could hardly tell how +he reached the river. + +Reach it, however, he did, and the strong arms of the watermen impelled +the boat rapidly down the tide, until it reached the stairs near the +palace. + +Here Redwald was in waiting, and assisted them to land. + +“You are very late, or rather early,” he said. + +“Yes,” said Edwy, “but it has been a jolly evening, only poor Elfric +has been ill, having of course weakened himself by fasting.” + +Redwald smiled such a scornful smile, and muttered some words to +himself. Yet it did not seem as if he were altogether displeased at the +state in which he saw Elfric. It may be added that Edwy was but little +better. + +“You must keep silent,” said Redwald; “I believe the king and Dunstan +are hearing matins in the chapel: it is the festival of some saint or +other, who went to the gridiron in olden days.” + +The outer gate of the palace was cautiously opened, and, taking off +their shoes, the youths ascended the stairs which led to their +apartments as lightly as possible. + +“Send the leech Sigebert to us in the morning—he must report Elfric +unwell—for he will hardly get up to hear Dunstan mumble mass.” + +“Perhaps your royal highness had better rest also.” + +“And bring suspicion upon us both? No,” said Edwy, “one will be enough +to report ill at once; Dunstan is an old fox.” + +Poor Elfric could hardly get to bed, and, almost for the first time +since infancy, he laid himself down without one prayer. Edwy left him +in the dark, and there he lay, his head throbbing, and a burning thirst +seeming to consume him. + +Long before morning he was very sick, and when the bell was sounded for +the early mass it need hardly be said that he was unable to rise. + +Sigebert the physician, who, like Redwald, was in the confidence of the +future king, Edwy, came in to see him, and asked what was the matter. + +“I am very sick and ill,” gasped Elfric. + +“I suppose you have taken something that disagreed with you—too much +fish perhaps.” (with a smile). + +“No—no—I do not—” + +“I understand,” said the leech; “you will soon be better; meanwhile, I +will account for your absence at chapel. Here, take this medicine; you +will find it relieve you.” + +And he gave Elfric a mixture which assuaged his burning thirst, and +bathed his forehead with some powerful essence which refreshed him +greatly, whereupon the leech departed. + +Only an hour later, and Edred, hearing from the physician of Elfric’s +sudden illness, came in to see the boy, whose bright cheerful face and +merry disposition had greatly attracted him. This was hardest of all +for Elfric to bear; he had to evade the kind questions of the king, and +to hear expressions of sympathy which he felt he did not deserve. + +More than once he felt inclined to tell all, but the fear of the prince +restrained him, and also a sense of what he thought honour, for he +would not betray his companion, and he could not confess his own guilt +without implicating Edwy. + +Poor boy! it would have been far better for him had he done so: he had +taken his first step downward. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +LOWER AND LOWER. + + +It becomes our painful duty to record that from the date of the feast, +described in our last chapter, the character of poor Elfric underwent +rapid deterioration. In the first place, the fact of his having yielded +to the forbidden indulgence, and—as he felt—disgraced himself, gave +Edwy, as the master of the secret, great power over him, and he never +failed to use this power whenever he saw any inclination on the part of +his vassal to throw off the servitude. It was not that he deliberately +intended to injure Elfric, but he had come to regard virtue as either +weakness or hypocrisy, at least such virtues as temperance, purity, or +self restraint. + +The great change which was creeping over Elfric became visible to +others: he seemed to lose his bright smile; the look of boyish +innocence faded from his countenance, and gave place to an expression +of sullen reserve; he showed less ardour in all his sports and +pastimes, became subject to fits of melancholy, and often seemed lost +in thought, anxious thought, in the midst of his studies. + +He seldom had the power, even if the will, to communicate with home. +Mercia was in many respects an independent state, subject to the same +king, but governed by a code of laws differing from those of Wessex; +and it was only when a royal messenger or some chance traveller left +court for the banks of the Midland Avon, that Elfric could use the art +of writing, a knowledge he was singular in possessing, thanks to the +wisdom of his sire. + +So the home authorities knew little of the absent one, for whom they +offered up many a fervent prayer, and of whom they constantly spoke and +thought. And yet, so mysterious are the ways of Providence, it seemed +as if these prayers were unanswered—seemed indeed, yet they were not +forgotten before God. + +Seemed forgotten; for Elfric was rapidly becoming reckless. Many +subsequent scenes of indulgence had followed the first one, and other +haunts, residences of licentious young nobles, or taverns, had been +sought out by the youths, and always by Redwald’s connivance. + +He was Edwy’s evil genius, and always seemed at hand whensoever the +prince sought occasion to sin. Still, he was not at all suspected by +Edred, before whom he kept up an appearance of the strictest +morality—always punctual in his attendance at mass, matins, and +evensong, and with a various stock of phrases of pious import ready at +tongue in case of need or opportunity of using them to advantage. + +To Elfric, his behaviour was always reserved, yet he seemed even more +ready to lend him a helping hand downward than did the prince. + +So time passed on; weeks became months; and Christmas with all its +hallowed associations had passed; it had been Elfric’s first Christmas +away from home, and he was sad at heart, in spite of the boisterous +merriment of his companions. The spring of the year 955 came on, and +Lent drew near, a season to which Edwy looked forward with great dread, +for, as he said, there would be nothing in the whole palace to eat +until Easter, and he could not even hope to bribe the cook. + +The canons of the church required all persons to make confession, and +so enter upon the fast tide, having “thus purified their minds;” x it +may, alas! be easily guessed how the guilty lads performed this duty, +how enforced confession only led to their adding the sin of further +deceit, and that of a deadly kind. + +Thus they entered upon Lent: their abstinence was entirely compulsory, +not voluntary; and although they made up for it in some degree when +they could get away from the palace, yet even this was difficult, for +it was positively unlawful for butchers to sell or for people to buy +meat at the prohibited seasons, and the law was not easily evaded. But +it was a prayerless Lent also to Elfric, for he had, alas! even +discontinued his habit of daily prayer, a habit he had hitherto +maintained from childhood, a habit first learned at his mother’s knee. + +Holy Week came, and was spent with great strictness; the king seemed to +divide his whole time between the business of state and the duties of +religion. + +Dunstan was absent at Glastonbury, but other ecclesiastics thronged the +palace, and there were few, save the guilty boys and Redwald, who +seemed uninfluenced by the solemn commemoration. + +But it must not be supposed that Elfric was wholly uninfluenced: after +the preaching of the Passion by a poor simple monk on Good Friday, he +retired to his own little room, where he wept as if his heart would +break. Had Dunstan been then in town, the whole story would have been +told, and much misery saved, for Elfric felt he could trust him if he +could trust anybody; but unhappily Dunstan was, as we have seen, +keeping Passiontide at his abbey. + +Still, Elfric felt he must tell all, and submit to the advice and +penance which might be imposed; and as he sat weeping over his sin that +Good Friday night, with the thought that he might find pardon and peace +through the Great Sacrifice so touchingly pleaded that day, he felt +that the first step to amendment must lie in a full and frank +confession of all; he knew he should grievously offend Edwy, and that +he should lose the favour of his future king, but he could not help it. + +“Why, oh why did I leave Æscendune, dear Æscendune?—fool that I was—I +will go back.” + +And a sweet desire of home and kindred rose up before him—of his +father’s loving welcome, his fond mother’s chaste kiss, and of the dear +old woods and waters—the hallowed associations of his home life. He +rose up to seek Father Benedict, determined to enter upon the path of +peace at any cost, when Edwy entered. + +He did not see in the gathering darkness the traces of emotion visible +on poor Elfric’s countenance, and he began in his usual careless +way—“How are you, Elfric, my boy; glad Lent is nearly over? What a +dismal time that wretched monk preached this morning!” + +“Edwy, I am utterly miserable: I must tell all; I cannot live like this +any longer.” + +“What a burst of penitence! go to confession; to be sure it looks well, +and if one can only manage to get out a few tears they account him a +saint; tell me the receipt.” + +“But, Edwy, I must tell all!” + +“Not if you are wise.” + +“Why not? It is all in secrecy.” + +“No it is not; you will be required as a penance to go and tell the +king all that we have done; you may do so, and I will manage to +represent matters so as to throw the whole blame on you; you will be +sent home in disgrace.” + +Poor Elfric hung down his head; the thought of his disgrace reaching +home had not occurred to him. + +“Come,” said Edwy, “I don’t want to be hard upon you. Cheer up, my man. +What have you done amiss? Only enjoyed yourself as nature has guided +you. Why should you think God meant us to pass through life like those +miserable shavelings Edred delights to honour? Cheer up, Elfric; your +bright face was never meant for that of a hypocrite. If you are so +dreadfully bad, you are in a pretty numerous company; and I don’t think +the shavelings believe their own tales about fire and torment +hereafter. They are merry enough, considering.” + +In short, poor Elfric’s short-lived penitence was given to the winds. +Edwy went alone to be shriven on the morrow. + +On Easter Day they both received the Holy Communion in the royal +chapel. + +From that time remorse ceased to visit the heir of Æscendune, as if he +had at last quenched the Spirit, and he became so utterly wild and +reckless, that at last Dunstan thought it necessary to speak to him +privately on the subject. It was nearly six months after Easter. + +The boy entered the study set apart for the use of the great monk and +statesman with a palpitating heart, but he managed to repress its +beatings, and put on a perfectly unconcerned expression of countenance. +He had gained in self control if in nothing else. + +“I wished to speak with you, Elfric,” said the abbot, “upon a very +serious matter. When you first came here, I was delighted to have you +as a companion to the prince. You were evidently well brought up, and +bore an excellent character; but, I grieve to say, you have greatly +changed for the worse. Are you not aware of it?” + +“No, father. What have I done?” + +Dunstan sighed at the tone of the reply, and continued—“It is not any +particular action of which I wish to accuse you, but of the general +tenor of your conduct. I do not speak harshly, my boy; but if truth be +told, you are as idle as you were once diligent, as sullen and reserved +as once candid and open: and, my son, your face tells a tale of even +worse things, and, but that I am puzzled to know where you could obtain +the means of self indulgence, I should attribute more serious vices to +you.” + +“Who has accused me, father?” + +“Yourself—that is, your own face and manner. Did you ever contemplate +yourself in a mirror when at home? There is a steel one against that +wall, go and look at yourself now.” + +Elfric blushed deeply. + +“My face is still the same,” he said. + +“It is the same, and yet not the same. Innocence once took her place at +its portals, and had sealed it as her own; the expression is all +changed; my boy, I am absolutely certain that all is not well with you. +For your own sake, delay no longer to avoid the danger of losing your +salvation, for the habits you form now will perhaps cling to you +through life. Turn now to your own self; confess your sin, and be at +peace.” + +“I came to confession at Shrovetide; I am not required to come now, am +I?” + +“Required? No, my boy, it is your own sense of guilt, alone, which +should draw you. The Church, since there has been no public scandal, +leaves you to your own judgment at such a time as this. Have you never +felt such remorse of conscience as would tell you your duty?” + +“Never.” + +He thought of Good Friday, and blushed. + +“Your tone and words belie each other, my boy. God grant you +repentance; you will not accept my help now, but the time may come when +you will seek help in vain.” + +Elfric bowed, without reply, and at a sign left the chamber. + +A few weeks later, at the beginning of November, Edred left London for +a tour in the west, and quitted his nephews with more than his usual +affection, although his goodbye to Elfric was more constrained, for the +good old king, not knowing the whole truth, was beginning to fear that +Elfric was a dangerous companion. He little thought that he was rather +sinned against than sinning. + +Dunstan was to follow him in a week, and only remained behind to +discharge necessary business. + +The heart of the amorous Edwy beat with delight as he saw his uncle +depart, and he made arrangements at once to spend the night after +Dunstan’s departure in mirth and jollity at the house of Ethelgiva and +her fair daughter. + +He came back after an interview with Redwald on the subject, and found +Elfric in their common study. There was an alcove in the room, and it +was covered by a curtain. + +“O Elfric,” said the prince, “is it not delightful? The two tyrants, +the king and the monk, will soon be gone. I wish the Evil One would fly +off with them both, and when the cat is away will not the mice play? I +have made all the arrangements; we shall have such a night at the lady +Ethelgiva’s.” + +“How is the fair Elgiva?” + +It was now Edwy’s turn to blush and look confused. + +“I wish I had the power of teasing you, Elfric. But if you have a +secret you keep it close. Remember old Dunstan vanishes on the +fifteenth, and the same evening, oh, won’t it be joyful? But I am tired +of work. Come and let us take some fresh air.” + +They left the room, when the curtain parted, and the astonished +countenance of Father Benedict, who had been quietly reading in the +deep embrasure of the window, presently appeared. He looked like a man +at whose feet a thunderbolt had fallen, and hastily left the room. + +The week passed rapidly away, and at its close Dunstan took his +departure. A train of horses awaited him, and he bade the young princes +Edwy and Edgar farewell, with the usual charge to work diligently and +obey Father Benedict. + +That same night, after the clerks had sung compline in the chapel, and +the chamberlain had seen to the safety of the palace, Edwy came quietly +to the room of his page, and the two left as on the first occasion. +Redwald attended them, and just before the boat left the bank he spoke +a word of caution. + +“I fear,” he said, in a low tone, “that all is not quite right. That +old fox Dunstan is up to some trick; he has not really left town.” + +“Perhaps he has a similar appointment tonight,” said Edwy, +sarcastically. “I should keep mine though he and all his monks from +Glastonbury barred the way.” + +They reached the castellated mansion of Ethelgiva in due course, and +the programme of the former evening was repeated, save that, if there +was any change, the conversation was more licentious, and the wine cup +passed more freely. + +It was midnight, and one of the company was favouring them with a song +of questionable propriety, when a heavy knock was heard at the door. +The servants went to answer it, and all the company awaited the issue +in suspense. + +One of the principal domestics returned with haste, and whispered some +words into the ear of Ethelgiva—which seemed to discompose her. + +“What can this mean?” she said. “A guard of soldiers demand admittance +in the king’s name?” + +A louder knocking attested the fact. + +“You must admit them, or they will batter the door down. Edwy, Elfric! +here, hide yourselves behind that curtain, it veils a deep recess.” + +They had scarcely concealed themselves when Dunstan entered, attended +by a guard of the royal hus-carles. + +“What means this insolence?” said Ethelgiva. + +“No insolence is intended, royal lady, nor could be offered to the +widow of the Etheling, by me,” replied Dunstan, “but I seek to +discharge a sacred trust committed to me. Where are my pupils, the +Prince Edwy and his companion?” + +“In their beds, at the palace, I should suppose.” + +“Nay, be not so perfidious; they are here, lady, and probably within +hearing; they must come forth, or I must order the guard to search the +house, which I should regret.” + +“By whose authority?” + +“By that of the king, whose signet is on my hand.” + +“They are not here; they left half-an-hour ago.” + +“Pardon me, madam, if I observe that we have watched the house for an +hour. + +“Had not this scene better terminate?” he added, with icy coldness. + +At this moment a favourite dog, which Edwy had often petted, and which +had entered with the guard, found him out behind the curtain, and in +its vociferous joy betrayed the whole secret. + +Confusion or smiles sat on every face save that of the imperturbable +Dunstan. + +“Your dog, madam, is more truthful than its mistress,” he said, bluntly +yet quietly; and then, advancing to the recess, he drew aside the +curtain and gazed upon the discovered couple. + +“Will you kindly return to the palace with me?” + +“How dare you, insolent monk, intrude upon the pleasures of your future +king?” + +“I dare by the orders of the present king, your royal uncle, who has +committed the whole matter into my hands; and, Prince Edwy, in the +discharge of my duty ‘dare’ is a superfluous word. Will you, as I said +before, both follow me, if you are sufficiently masters of yourselves +to do so?” + +The import of all this was seen at a glance, but there was no course +but submission, and Edwy well knew how utterly indefensible his conduct +was; so, with crestfallen gait, he and Elfric followed their captor to +the river, where was another large boat by the side of their own. They +entered it, and returned to the palace stairs much more sober than on +previous occasions. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +“THE KING IS DEAD!—LONG LIVE THE KING!” + + +The unhappy Elfric passed the night in a most unenviable frame of mind. +He felt distinctly how utterly he was in the power of Dunstan, and that +he could only expect to return home in disgrace; yet there was no real +repentance in all this: he had sinned and suffered, but although he +dreaded punishment he no longer hated sin. + +He scarcely slept at all, and early in the morning he rose to seek an +interview with Edwy, when he found that he was a prisoner. One of the +hus-carles posted at his door forbade all communication. + +Early in the morning the bell sounded for the early service, still he +was not released, and later his breakfast was brought to him, after +which he heard a heavy step approaching, and Dunstan appeared at the +door of the sleeping chamber. + +He entered, and gazed at Elfric for a moment without speaking, as if he +would read his very heart by his face; it was hardly comfortable. + +“Elfric,” he said at last, “do you remember the warning I gave you six +months ago?” + +“No,” said Elfric, determined, in desperation, to deny everything. + +“I fear you are hardly telling me the truth; you must remember it, +unhappy boy! Why were you not warned in time? Why did you refuse the +advice which might have saved you from all this?” + +“Because it was my fate, I suppose.” + +“Men make their own fates, and as they make their beds so must they lie +upon them; however, I have not come here to reproach you, but to bid +you prepare to return home.” + +“Home?—so soon?” said Elfric. + +“Yes, you must leave tomorrow, when a messenger will be prepared to +accompany you, and to explain the cause of your dismissal from court to +your father, whom I most sincerely pity; and let me hope that you will +find leisure to repent of your grievous sin in the solitude of your +native home.” + +“Must my father be told everything?” + +“I fear he must: you have left us no choice; and it is the better +thing, both for him and for you; he will understand better what steps +are necessary for your reformation—a reformation, I trust, which will +be accomplished in good time, whereat no one will rejoice more than I.” + +A pert answer rose to Elfric’s lips, but he dared not give utterance to +it; the speaker was too great in his wrath to be defied with impunity. + +“Farewell,” said Dunstan, “would that I could say the word with +brighter hopes; but should you ever repent of your sin, as I trust you +may, it will gladden me to hear of it. I fear you may have done great +harm to England in the person of her future king, but God forgive you +in that case.” + +Elfric felt the injustice of the last accusation; he coloured, and an +indignant denial had almost risen to his lips, but he repressed it for +Edwy’s sake—faithful, even in his vice, to his friend. + +“Am I to consider myself a prisoner? you have posted a sentinel, as if +I were a criminal.” + +“You must be confined to your apartment, but you may have books and +anything else you desire. The prince is forbidden to see you again. +Your confinement will only be for one day; tomorrow you will be free +enough; let me beg you to use the occasion for calm reflection, and, I +hope, penitence.” + +Dunstan left the room, and Elfric heard his retreating steps go heavily +down the stairs, when a sudden and almost unaccountable feeling came +over him—a feeling that he had thrown himself away, and that he was +committed to evil, perhaps never to be able to retrace his course, +never to all eternity; the retreating steps sounded as if his sentence +were passed and the door of mercy shut. He shook off the strange +feeling; yet, could he have seen the future which lay undiscovered +before him, and which must intervene before he should see that face +again, or hear those steps, he might have been unable thus to shake off +the nameless dread. + +The day wore away, night drew on; he laid himself down and tried to +sleep, when he heard voices conversing outside, and recognised Edwy’s +tones; immediately after the prince entered. + +“What a shame, Elfric,” he said, “to make you a prisoner like this, and +to send you away—for they say you are to go tomorrow —you shall not be +forgotten if ever I become king, and I don’t think it will be long +first. The first thing I shall do will be to send for you; you will +come; won’t you?” + +“I will be yours for life or death.” + +“I knew it, and this is the faithful friend from whom they would +separate me; well, we will have this last evening together in peace; +old Dunstan has gone out, and Redwald has put a man as your guard who +never sees anything he is not wanted to see.” + +“What a convenient thing!” + +“But you seem very dull; is anything on your mind which I do not know? +What did Dunstan say to you?” + +“He is going to write home to my father all particulars. It will make +home miserable.” + +“Perhaps we may find a remedy for that,” said Edwy, and left the room +hastily. + +Shortly he returned in company with Redwald. + +“Come with us, Elfric,” said the prince “there is no one in the palace +to interfere with us. Old Dunstan received a sudden message, and has +gone out hastily; we will go and see what he has written.” + +Somewhat startled at the audacity of the proposal, Elfric followed the +prince, and Redwald accompanied them. After passing through a few +passages, they arrived at the cell, or rather study, usually occupied +by Dunstan when at court, and entered it, not without a slight feeling +of dread, or rather of reluctance. + +“Here it is,” said Edwy, and held up a parchment, folded, sealed, and +directed to “Ella, Thane of Æscendune.” + +“I should like to know what he has written,” said the prince. “Redwald, +you understand these things; can you open the letter without breaking +the seal?” + +“There is no need of that,” replied the captain of the hus-carles, “I +can easily seal it again; see, there is the signet, and here the wax.” + +So he broke the letter open and extended it to the prince, whose +liberal education had given him the faculty of reading the monkish +Latin, in which Dunstan wrote, at a glance, and he read aloud: + +“TO MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, + +“ELLA, THANE OF ÆSCENDUNE— + +“It grieveth me much, most beloved brother, to be under the necessity +of sending your son Elfric home in some little disgrace; but it is, +alas a necessity that I should do so, in virtue of the authority our +good lord and king, Edred, hath entrusted to me. The lad was bright, +and, I think, innocent of aught like deadly sin, when he came to this +huge Babel, where the devil seems to lead men even as he will, and he +hath fallen here into evil company—nay, into the very company most evil +of all in this wicked world, that of designing and shameless women, +albeit of noble birth. It hath been made apparent to me that there is +great danger to both the prince and your son in any further connection, +therefore I return Elfric to your care, sincerely hoping that, by God’s +help, you will be enabled to take such measures as will lead to his +speedy reformation, for which I devoutly pray. The bearer will give +such further information as you may desire. + +“Wishing you health, and an abiding place in the favour of God and His +saints—Your brother in the faith of Christ, + +“DUNSTAN, O.S.B.” + +Edwy read the letter aloud with many a vindictive comment, and then +said to Redwald—“What can be done? Must this letter go?” + +“Does your father know the Saint’s handwriting, Elfric?” + +“He never heard from him before, I believe.” + +“Well, then, I will venture to enclose a different message,” and he sat +down at the table, and wrote—“TO MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, + +“ELLA, THANE OF ÆSCENDUNE— + +“It rejoiceth me much, most beloved brother, to send you good tidings +of the good behaviour and growth in grace of your son, whom the king +hath concluded to send home for the benefit of his health, since London +hath in some degree destroyed the ruddy hue of his countenance, and he +needeth a change, as his paleness sufficiently declareth. + +“The king hath bidden me express his great satisfaction with the lad’s +conduct, and the prince mourneth his enforced departure. Wishing you +health and an abiding place in the favour of God and His saints—Your +brother in the faith of Christ, + +“DUNSTAN, O.S.B.” + +The boys laughed aloud as they read the forgery. + +“But about the messenger—will he not tell the truth?” + +“Oh, I will see to him, he is not above a bribe, and knows it is his +interest to serve his future king, although Dunstan thinks him so +trusty.” + +All at once the booming of a heavy bell smote their ears. + +“It is the bell of St. Paul’s, it tolls for the death of some noble,” +said Redwald; “what can it mean? has any member of the royal family +been ill?” + +They listened to the solemn dirge-like sound as it floated through the +air, calling upon all good Christians to pray for the repose of the +departed or departing soul. No prayer rose to their lips, and they soon +returned to the subject in hand. + +“When is the letter to be despatched?” + +“Early in the morning the messenger will await you; and now, I should +recommend some sleep to prepare for a fatiguing journey.” + +Elfric and the prince returned to their chamber, but they did not take +Redwald’s hint, and remained talking till just before daybreak, when +they were aroused by the hasty step of an armed heel, and Redwald stood +before them. His demeanour was very strange; he bent down on one knee, +took the hand of Edwy, who resigned it passively to him, kissed it and +cried aloud—“God save the king!” + +“What can you mean, Redwald?” exclaimed both the youths. + +“Heard you not the passing bell last night? Edred sleeps with his +fathers; he died at Frome on St. Clement’s day.” + +For a moment they were both silent. + +“And Edwy, the great grandson of Alfred, is king of England.” + +At first the young prince was deeply shocked at the sudden news of the +death of his uncle, to whom, in spite of appearances, he was somewhat +attached. He turned pale, and was again silent for some minutes; at +last, he gulped down a cup of water, and asked—“But how did Dunstan +know?” + +“Why, it is a strange tale. Three days ago, at the very hour the king +must have died, he says that he saw a bright light, and beheld a vision +of angels, who said, ‘Edred hath died in the Lord,’ but he treated it +as a dream, and last night a messenger came with the news of the sudden +illness of the king, bidding Dunstan hasten to his side. He left +everything, and started immediately, but in a few miles met another +messenger, bearing the news of the death. He has gone on, but sent the +messenger forward to the Bishop of London, who caused the great bell to +be tolled. + +“We must all die some day,” said Edwy, musingly; “but it is very very +sudden.” + +“And I trust he has obtained a better kingdom,” added Redwald; “he +must, you know, if the monks tell the truth, so why should we weep for +him?” + +“At least,” said Edwy, looking up, “Elfric need not go home now.” + +“No, certainly not, but he had better disappear from court for a time. +The lady Ethelgiva might afford him hospitality, or he might stay at +the royal palace at Kingston. I will tell the messenger to keep out of +the way, and Dunstan may suppose that his orders have been obeyed to +the letter.” + +“Why should we trouble what he may think or say?” + +“Because the Witan has not yet met, and until it has gone through the +form, the mere form, of recognising your title, you are not actually +king. Dunstan has some influence. Suppose he should use it for Edgar?” + +“Edgar, the pale-faced little priestling!” + +“All the better for that in Dunstan’s eyes. Nay, be advised, my king; +keep all things quiet until the coronation is over, then let Dunstan +know who you are and who he is.” + +“Indeed I will. He shall have cause to rue his insolent behaviour the +other night.” + +“Bide your time, my liege; and now the great officers of state require +your presence below.” + +A few days later a sorrowful procession entered the old city of +Winchester, the capital of Wessex, and once a favourite residence of +Edred, now to be his last earthly resting place. Much had the citizens +loved him; and as the long train defiled into the open space around the +old minster—old, even then—the vast assemblage, grouped beneath the +trees around the sacred precincts, lifted up their voices and joined in +the funeral hymn, while many wept tears of genuine sorrow. It was awe +inspiring, that burst of tuneful wailing, as the monks entered the +sacred pile, and it made men’s hearts thrill with the sense of the +unseen world into which their king had entered, and where, as they +believed, their supplications might yet follow him. + +There were the chief mourners—Edwy and Edgar—and they followed the +royal corpse, the latter greatly afflicted, and shedding genuine tears +of sorrow—and the royal household. All the nobility of Wessex, and many +of the nobles from Mercia and other provinces, were gathered together, +and amidst the solemn silence of the vast crowd, Dunstan performed the +last sad and solemn rites with a broken voice; while the archbishop—Odo +the Good, as he was frequently called—assisted in the dread solemnity. + +It was over; the coffin was lowered to the royal vaults to repose in +peace, the incenses had ceased to float dreamily beneath the lofty +roof,xi the various lights which had borne part in the ceremony were +extinguished, the choral anthem had ceased, for Edred slept with his +fathers. + +And outside, the future king was welcomed with loud cries of “God save +King Edwy, and make him just as Alfred, pious as Edred, and warlike as +Athelstane!” + +“Long live the heir of Cerdic’s ancient line!” + +Thus their cries anticipated the decision of the Witan, and without all +was noise and clamour; while within the sacred fane the ashes of him +who had so lately ruled England rested in peace by the side of his +royal father Edward, the son of Alfred, three of whose sons—Athelstane, +Edmund, Edred—had now reigned in succession. + +It must not be supposed that Edwy was as yet king by the law of the +land. The early English writers all speak of their kings as elected; it +was not until the Witan had recognised them, that they were crowned and +assumed the royal prerogatives. + +Edwy had followed Redwald’s advice: he had kept Elfric out of the way, +and meant to do so until his coronation day. And meanwhile he +condescended to disguise his real feelings, and to affect sorrow for +his past failings when in the presence of Dunstan. + +Yet he took advantage of the greater liberty he now enjoyed to renew +his visits to the mansion up the Thames, and to spend whole days in the +society of Elgiva. In their simplicity and deep love they thought all +the obstacles to their happy union now removed. Alas! ill-fated pair! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +THE CORONATION. + + +Nothing could exceed in solemnity the “hallowing of the king,” as the +coronation ceremony was termed in Anglo-Saxon times. It was looked upon +as an event of both civil and ecclesiastical importance, and therefore +nothing was omitted which could lend dignity to the occasion. + +The Witan, or parliament, had already met and given its consent to the +coronation of Edwy. It was not, as we have already remarked, a mere +matter of course that the direct heir should occupy the throne. Edred +had already ascended, while Edwy, the son of his elder brother, was an +infant, not as regent, but as king; and in any case of unfitness on the +part of the heir apparent, it was in the power of the Witan to pass him +over, and to choose for the public good some other member of the royal +house. The same Witan conferred upon Edgar the title of sub-king of +Mercia under his brother. + +Solemn and imposing was the meeting of the Witenagemot, or “assembly of +the wise.” It was divided into three estates. The first consisted of +the only class who, as a rule, had any learning in those days—the +clergy, represented by the bishop, abbot, and their principal +officials: the second consisted of the vassal kings of Scotland, +Cumbria, Wales, Mona, the Hebrides, and other dependent states, the +great earls, as of Mercia or East Anglia, and other mighty magnates: +the third, of the lesser thanes, who were the especial vassals of the +king, or the great landholders, for the possession of land was an +essential part of a title to nobility. + +Amongst these sat Ella of Æscendune, who, in spite of his age, had come +to the metropolis to testify his loyalty and fealty to the son of the +murdered Edmund, his old friend and companion in arms, and to behold +his own eldest son once more. + +It was the morning of a beautiful day in early spring, one of those +days of which the poet has written— + +“Sweet day, so calm, so pure, so bright, +The bridal of the earth and sky” + + +—when winter seems to have loosed its stern hold upon the frozen earth, +and the songs of countless birds welcome the bright sunlight, the +harbinger of approaching summer. + +The roads leading to Kingston-on-Thames were thronged with travellers +of every degree—the ealdorman or earl with his numerous attendants, the +bishop with rude ecclesiastical pomp, the peasant in his rough +jerkin—all hastening to the approaching ceremony, which, as it had been +definitely fixed, was to take place at that royal city. + +There Athelstane had been crowned with great pomp and splendour, for it +was peculiarly “_Cynges tun_” or the King’s Town, and after the +coronation it was customary for the newly-crowned monarch to take +formal possession of his kingdom by standing on a great stone in the +churchyard. + +The previous night, Archbishop Odo had arrived from Canterbury, and his +bosom friend and brother, Dunstan, from Glastonbury, as also Cynesige, +Bishop of Lichfield, a man in every way like-minded with them; while +nearly all the other prelates, abbots, and nobles, arrived in the early +morn of the eventful day. + +The solemn service of the coronation mass was about to commence, and +the people were assembling in the great church of St. Mary, filling +every inch of available room. Every figure was bent forward in earnest +gaze, and every heart seemed to beat more quickly, as the faint and +distant sound of deep solemn music, the monastic choirs chanting the +processional psalms, drew near. + +Suddenly the jubilant strains filled the whole church, as the +white-robed train entered the sacred building while they sang: + +“_Quoniam prævenisti eum in benedictionibus dulcedinis, posuisti in +capiti ejus coronam de lapide pretioso_.” xii + +Incense ascended in clouds to the lofty roof; torches were uplifted, +banners floated in the air, every eye was now strained to catch a +glimpse of the youthful monarch. + +He came at last. Oh, how lovely the ill-fated boy looked that day! His +beauty was of a somewhat fragile character, his complexion almost too +fair, his hair shone around his shoulders in waves of gold, for men +then wore their hair long, his eyes blue as the azure vault on that +sweet spring morning: alas, that his spiritual being should not have +been equally fair! + +Elfric stood by his father, amidst the crowd of thanes, near the rood +screen, for he had spent the last few days at Kingston, and there his +father had found him, and had embraced him with joy, little dreaming of +the change which had come over his darling boy. + +“Look, father, is he not every inch a king?” Elfric could not help +exclaiming, forgetting the place and the occasion in his pride in his +king and his friend. + +He would have been one of the four boys who bore the royal train, but +it had not seemed advisable on such a day to offend Dunstan too +seriously. + +The mass proceeded after the royal party had all taken their places, +and the coronation service was incorporated into the rite, following +the Nicene Creed and preceding the canon. + +Kneeling before the altar, the young prince might well tremble with +emotion. Before him stood the archbishop, clad in full pontifical +vestments; around were the most noted prelates and wisest abbots of +England; behind him the nobility, gentry, and commonalty of the whole +country—all gazing upon him, as the archbishop dictated the solemn +words of the oath, which Edwy repeated with trembling voice after him. + +“In the name of the ever-blessed Trinity, I promise three things to the +Christian people, my subjects: + +“First, that the Church of God within my realm shall enjoy peace, free +from any molestation.” + +“Second, that I will prevent, to the utmost of my power, theft and +every fraud in all ranks of men.” + +“Thirdly, that I will preserve and maintain justice and mercy in all +judicial proceedings, so that the good and merciful God may, according +to His mercy, forgive us all our sins, Who liveth and reigneth for ever +and ever. Amen.” + +Then followed a most solemn charge from “Odo the Good,” setting forth +all the deep responsibilities of the oath Edwy had taken, and of the +awful account to be rendered to God of the flock committed to his +youthful charge, at the great and awful day of judgment. + +Then the holy oil was solemnly poured upon the head of the kneeling +boy, after which he made the usual offertory of “gold, frankincense, +and myrrh,” at the altar, emblematical of the visit of the three kings +of old, who from Sheba bore their gold and incense to the Lord. + +Then was the sacred bracelet put upon his arm, the crown on his head, +the sceptre in his hand, after which the mass proceeded. + +It is touching to recall the worship of those far-off days, when all +the surrounding circumstances differed so widely from those of the +present hour; yet the Church, in her holy conservatism, has kept intact +and almost changeless all that is hers; that day the “Nicene Creed,” +“Sanctus,” “Agnus Dei,” “Gloria in Excelsis,” rolled as now in strains +of melody towards heaven, and the “Te Deum” which concluded the +jubilant service is our Te Deum still, albeit in the vulgar tongue. + +The sacred rites concluded, the royal procession left the church and +proceeded to the churchyard, when Edwy took formal possession of +Wessex, by the ceremony of standing upon a large rock called the King’s +Stone, whence the town derived its name. + +The feast was spread in the palace hard by, and all the nobles and +thanes (if the words are not synonymous) flocked thither, while the +multitude had their liberal feast spread at various tables throughout +the town, at the royal expense. + +Elfric followed his father to the palace, and was about to take his +place at the board, when a page appeared and summoned him to the +presence of Edwy. + +“I shall keep a vacant place for you by my side,” said Ella, “so that +we may feast together, my son, when the king releases you; it is a +great honour that he should think of you now.” + +Elfric followed the messenger, who led him into the interior of the +palace, where he found Edwy impatiently awaiting him in the royal +dressing chamber. + +Elfric had expected to find the newly-crowned king deeply impressed, +but if such had been the case, at the moment it had passed away. + +“Thanks to all the saints, including St. George, and especially the +dragon, that I can look into your jolly face again, Elfric, it is a +relief after all the grim-beards who have surrounded me today. I +shudder when I think of them.” + +Elfric had been about to kneel and kiss the royal hand, in token of +homage, but Edwy saw the intention and prohibited him. + +“No more of that an thou lovest me, Elfric; my poor hand is almost worn +out already.” + +“The day must have tired you, the scene was so exciting.” + +Edwy yawned as he replied, “Thank God it is over; I thought Odo was +going to preach to me all day, and the incense almost stifled me; the +one good thing is that it is done now, and all England—Kent, Sussex, +Wessex, Essex, Northumbria, East Anglia, and Mercia —have all +acknowledged me as their liege lord, the Basileus of Britain. What is +done can’t be undone, and Dunstan may eat his leek now, and go to fight +Satan again.” + +Elfric looked up in some surprise. + +“What do you think, my friend; who do you suppose is here in the +palace, in the royal apartments?” + +“Who?” + +“Elgiva, the fair Elgiva, the lovely Elgiva, dear Elgiva, and her +mother. Oh, but I shall love to look upon her face when the feast is +done, and the grim-beards have gone!” + +“But Dunstan?” + +“Dunstan may go and hang himself; he can’t scrape off the consecrated +oil, or carry away crown, bracelet, and sceptre, to hide with the other +royal treasures at Glastonbury; but the feast is beginning, and you +must come and sit on my right hand.” + +“No, no,” said Elfric, who saw at once what an impropriety this would +be, “not yet; besides, my old father is here, and has kept a seat +beside himself for me.” + +“Well, goodbye for the present; I shall expect you after the feast. +Elgiva will be glad to see you.” + +Elfric returned to his father, but a feeling of sadness had taken +possession of him, an apprehension of coming evil. + +The feast began; the clergy and the nobility of the land were assembled +in the great hail of the palace, and there was that profusion of good +cheer which befitted the day, for the English were, like their German +ancestors, in the habit of considering the feast an essential part of +any solemnity. + +How much was eaten and drunk upon the occasion it would be dangerous to +say, for it would probably exceed all modern experience, but it seemed +to the impatient Edwy that the feast and the subsequent drinking of +pledges and healths would never end, and he was impatient the whole +time to get away and be in the company of the charmer. + +An opportunity seemed at last to offer itself to his immature judgment. +Gleemen had sung, harpers had harped, but the excitement culminated +when Siward, a Northumbrian noble, who was a great musician, and +skilful in improvisation, did not disdain, like the royal Alfred, to +take the harp and pour forth an extemporary ode of great beauty, +whereupon the whole multitude rose to their feet and waved their wine +cups in the air, in ardent appreciation of the patriotic sentiments he +had uttered, and the beauty of the music and poetry. + +During the full din of their heated applause, when all eyes were fixed +upon the accomplished musician, Edwy rose softly from his chair; a door +was just behind him, and he took advantage of it to leave the hail and +thread the passages quickly, till he came to the room where he had left +Elgiva, when he threw aside his royal mantle and all his restraint at +the same time. + +It was not for a few moments that the company in the hall discovered +the absence of their king, but when they did there was a sudden hush, +and men looked at each other in mute astonishment; it appeared to all, +with scarce an exception, a gross insult to the assembled majesty of +the nation. xiii + +Poor Edwy, in his thoughtlessness and want of proper feeling, little +knew the deep anger such a proceeding would cause; in his lack of a +reverential spirit he was constantly, as we have seen, offending +against the respect due to the Church, the State, or himself—first as +heir presumptive, then as king. + +Men stood mute, as we have said, then murmurs of indignation at the +slight arose, and all looked at Dunstan. + +He beckoned to Cynesige of Lichfield, who came to his side. + +“We must bring this thoughtless boy back,” he said, “or great harm will +be done.” + +“But how?” + +“By persuasion, if possible. Follow me.” + +The two prelates entered the interior of the palace, and sought the +king’s private chamber. + +As they drew near they heard the sound of merry laughter, and each of +them frowned as men might do who were little accustomed to condone the +weakness of human flesh. Entering the chamber very unceremoniously, +they paused, as if aghast, when they beheld the king in the company of +Elgiva, his royal diadem cast upon the ground. + +He started in surprise, and for a moment in fear; then, remembering who +he was, he exclaimed, angrily—“How dare you, sir monk, intrude upon the +privacy of your king, unbidden?” + +“We do so as the ambassadors of the King of kings.” + +It is out of our power to describe the scene which followed, the fiery +words of Edwy, the stern yet quiet rejoinders of the churchmen, the +tears of the mother and daughter; but it is well known how the scene +ended. Edwy absolutely refused to return to the assembled guests, +saying he would forfeit his kingdom first; and Dunstan replied that for +his (Edwy’s) own sake he should then be compelled to use force, and +suiting the action to the word, he and Cynesige took each an arm of the +youthful king, and led him back by compulsion to the assembled nobles +and clergy. + +Before condemning Dunstan, we must remember that Elgiva could not stand +in the relation of the affianced bride of the king; that Edwy really +seemed to set the laws of both Church and State at defiance, those very +laws which but that day he had sworn solemnly to maintain; and that but +recently he had stood in the relation of pupil to Dunstan, so that in +his zeal for Church and State, the abbot forgot the respect due to the +king. He saw only the boy, and forgot the sovereign. + +The guests assembled in the banqueting hall had seen the desertion of +their royal master with murmurs both loud and deep; but when they saw +him return escorted by Dunstan and Cynesige, their unanimous approval +showed that in their eyes the churchmen had taken a proper step. + +Yet, although Edwy tried to make a show of having returned of his own +free will, an innocent device at which his captors connived when they +entered the hall with him, the bitterest passions were rankling in his +heart, and he determined to take a terrible revenge, should it ever be +in his power, upon Dunstan. + +There was comparatively little show of merriment during the rest of the +feast, and the noble company separated earlier than was usual on such +occasions. + +“If this be the way King Edwy treats his guests,” said the Earl of +Mercia, “he will find scant loyalty north of the Thames.” + +“Nor in East Anglia,” said another. + +“There is another of the line of Cerdic living.” + +“Yes, Edgar, his brother.” + +“Dunstan and Cynesige brought him back with some difficulty, I’ll be +bound.” + +“Yes; although he tried to smile, I saw the black frown hidden +beneath.” + +“He will take revenge for all this.” + +“Upon whom?” + +“Why, upon Dunstan to be sure.” + +“But how can he? Dunstan is too powerful for that.” + +“Wait and see.” + +Such was the general tone of the conversation, from which the +sentiments of the community might be inferred. + +Elfric went, as he had been bidden to do, at the conclusion of the +feast, to seek Edwy, and found him, it is needless to state, in a +towering rage. + +“Elfric,” he said, “am I a king? or did I dream I was crowned today?” + +“You certainly were.” + +“And yet these insolent monks have dared to force me from the company +of Elgiva to return to that sottish feast, and what is worse, I find +they have dared to send her and her mother home under an escort, so +that I cannot even apologise to them. As I live, if I am a king I will +have revenge.” + +“I trust so, indeed,” said Elfric, “they deserve death.” + +“I would it were in my power to inflict it; but this accursed monk—I go +mad when I mention his name—is all too powerful. I believe Satan helps +him.” + +“Still there may be ways, if you only wait till you can look around +you.” + +“There may indeed.” + +“Only have patience; all will be in your hands some day.” + +“And if it be in my power I will restore the worship of Woden and Thor, +and burn every monk’s nest in the land.” + +“They were at least the gods of warriors.” + +“Elfric, you will stand by me, will you not?” + +“With my life.” + +“Come to the window, now; see the old sots departing. There a priest, +there a thane, there an earl—all drunk, I do believe; don’t you think +so?” + +“Yes, yes,” said Elfric, disregarding the testimony of both his eyes +that they were all perfectly sober. + +Just then his eye caught a very disagreeable object, and he turned +somewhat pale. + +“What are you looking at?” said Edwy. + +“There is that old fox, Dunstan, talking with my father; he will learn +that I am here.” + +“What does it matter?” + +“Only that he will easily persuade my father to take me home.” + +“Then the commands of a king must outweigh those of a father. I have +heard Dunstan say a king is the father of all his people, and I command +you to stay.” + +“I want to stay with all my heart.” + +“Then you shall, even if I have to make a pretence of detaining you by +force.” + +The anticipations of Elfric were not far wrong. Dunstan had found out +the truth. He had sought out the old thane to condole with him upon the +pain he supposed he must recently have inflicted by his letter. + +“I cannot express to you, my old friend and brother,” he said, “the +great pain with which I sent your poor boy Elfric home, but it was a +necessity.” + +“Sent him home?” said Ella. + +“Yes, at the time our lamented Edred died.” + +“Sent him home!” repeated Ella, in such undisguised amazement that +Dunstan soon perceived something was amiss, and in a few short minutes +became possessed of the whole facts, while Ella learnt his son’s +disgrace. + +They conferred long and earnestly. The father’s heart was sorely +wounded, but he could not think that Elfric would resist his commands, +and he promised to take him back at once to Æscendune, where he hoped +all would soon be well—“soon, very soon,” he said falteringly. + +So the old thane went to his lodgings, hard by the palace, where he +awaited his son. + +Late in the evening Elfric arrived, his countenance flushed with wine: +he had been seeking courage for the part he had to play in the wine +cup. + +Long and painful, most painful, was the interview that followed. +Hardened in his rebellion, the unhappy Elfric defied his father’s +authority and justified his sin, flatly refusing to return home, in +which he pretended to be justified by “the duty a subject owed to his +sovereign.” + +Thus roused to energy, Ella solemnly adjured his boy to remember the +story of his uncle Oswald, and the sad fate he had met with. It was +very seldom indeed that Ella alluded to his unhappy brother, the story +was too painful; but now that Elfric seemed to be commencing a similar +course of disobedience, the example of the miserable outlaw came too +forcibly to his mind to be altogether suppressed. + +“Beware, my son,” added Ella, “lest the curse which fell upon Oswald +fall upon you, and your younger brother succeed to your inheritance.” + +“It is not a large one,” said Elfric, “and in that case, the king whom +I serve will find me a better one.” + +“Is it not written, ‘Put not your trust in princes?’ O my son, my son; +you will bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave!” + +It was of no avail. The old thane arose in the morning with the +intention of taking Elfric home even by force, such force as Dunstan +had used, if necessary, but found that the youth had disappeared in the +night; neither could he learn what had become of him, but he shrewdly +guessed that the young king could have told him. + +Broken-hearted by his son’s cruel desertion, the thane of Æscendune +returned home alone. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +GLASTONBURY ABBEY. + + +Rich in historical associations and reputed sanctity, the abbey of +Glastonbury was the ecclesiastical centre of western England. Here grew +the holy thorn which Joseph of Arimathea had planted when, fatigued +with travel, he had struck his staff into the ground, and lo! a goodly +tree; here was the holy well of which he had drunk, and where he +baptized his converts, so that its waters became possessed of +miraculous power to heal diseases. + +Here again were memorials, dear to the vanquished Welsh; for did not +Arthur, the great King Arthur, the hero of a thousand fights, the +subject of gleeman’s melody and of the minstrel’s praise, lie buried +here? if indeed he were dead, and not spirited away by magic power. + +A Welsh population still existed around the abbey, for it was near the +borders of West Wales, as a large portion of Devon and Cornwall was +then called, and Exeter had not long become an English town.xiv The +legends of Glastonbury were nearly all of that distant day when the +Saxons and Angles had not yet discovered Britain, and she reposed safe +under the protection of mighty Rome; hence, it was the object of +pilgrimage and of deep veneration to all those of Celtic blood, while +the English were unwilling to be behind in their veneration. + +Here, in the first year of the great English king Athelstane, Dunstan +was born, the son of Herstan and Kynedred, both persons of rank—a man +destined to influence the Anglo-Saxon race first in person and then in +spirit for generations—the greatest man of his time, whether, as his +contemporaries thought, mighty for good, or, as men of narrower minds +have thought, mighty for evil. + +In his early youth, Glastonbury lay, as it lies now, in ruin and decay; +the Danes had ravaged it, and its holy walls were no longer eloquent +with prayer and praise. Yet the old inhabitants still talked with +regret of the departed glories of the fane; the pilgrim and the +stranger still visited the consecrated well, hoping to gain strength +from its healing wave, for the soil had been hallowed by the blood of +martyrs and the holy lives of saints; here kings and nobles, laying +aside their greatness, had retired to prepare for the long and endless +home, and in the calm seclusion of the cloister had found peace. + +Here the mind of the young Dunstan was moulded for his future work; +here, weak in body, but precocious in intellect, he drew in, as if with +his vital breath, legend and tradition; here, from a body of Scottish +missionaries, or, as we should now call them, Irish,xv he learned with +rapidity all that a boy could acquire of civil or ecclesiastical lore, +and both in Latin and in theology his progress amazed his tutors. + +Up to this time the world had held possession of his heart, and, +balancing the advantages of a religious and a secular life, he chose, +as most young people would choose, the attractions of court, to which +his parents’ rank entitled him, and leaving Glastonbury he repaired to +the court of Edmund. + +There his extraordinary talents excited envy, and he was accused of +magical arts: his harp had been heard to pour forth strains of +ravishing beauty when no human hand was near, and other like prodigies, +savouring of the black art, were said to attend him, so that he fled +the court, and took refuge with his uncle, Elphege, the Bishop of +Winchester. + +A long illness followed, during which the youth, disgusted with the +world, and startled by his narrow escape from death, reversed the +choice he had previously made, and renounced the world and its +pleasures. + +Ordained priest at Winchester, he was sent back with a monk’s attire to +Glastonbury, where he gave himself up to austerities, such as, in a +greater or less degree, always accompanied a conversion in those days; +here miracles were reported to attend him, and stories of his personal +conflicts with the Evil One were handed from mouth to mouth, until his +fame had filled the country round.xvi + +The influence he rapidly acquired enabled him to commence the great +work of rebuilding Glastonbury, in which he was only interrupted by the +frequent calls which he had to court, to become the adviser of King +Edmund; where indeed he was often in the discharge of the office of +prime minister of the kingdom, and showed as much aptitude in civil as +in ecclesiastical affairs. + +Glastonbury being rebuilt, the Benedictine rule xvii was introduced, +and Dunstan himself became abbot. It was far the noblest and best +monastic code of the day, being peculiarly adapted to prevent the +cloister from becoming the abode of either idleness or profligacy. + +But this was not done without much opposition; the secular priests—as +the married clergy and those who lived amongst their flocks (as English +clergy do now) were called—opposed the introduction of the Benedictine +rule with all their might, and were always thorns in Dunstan’s side. + +The unfortunate Edmund, after the sad event at Pucklechurch, on the +feast of St. Augustine, was buried at Glastonbury by the abbot, and his +two sons, Edwy and Edgar, were put under Dunstan’s especial care by the +new king Edred. The rest of the story is tolerably well known to our +readers. + +The first steps of Edwy’s reign were all taken with a view to one great +end—to revenge himself and to destroy Dunstan, who, aware of the royal +enmity, and of his inability to restrain the sovereign, withdrew +himself quietly to Glastonbury, and confined himself to the discharge +of his duties as its abbot. + +But this did not satisfy Edwy, who, panting for the ruin of the monk he +hated, sought occasion for a quarrel, and soon found it. Dunstan had +been the royal almoner, and had had the disposal of large sums of +money, for purposes connected with the Church, on which they had been +strictly expended. Now Edwy required a strict account of all these +disbursements, which Dunstan refused to give, saying it had already +been given to Edred, and that no person had any right to investigate +the charities of the departed king. + +His stout resistance gained the day in the first instance, but Edwy +never felt at rest while Dunstan lived at peace in the land, and +Ethelgiva and her fair daughter were ever inciting him to fresh acts of +hostility, little as he needed such incitement. + +The first measures were of a very dishonourable kind. Evil reports were +spread abroad to destroy the character of the great abbot, and prepare +people’s minds for his disgrace: then disaffection was stirred up +amongst the secular clergy surrounding Glastonbury—a very easy thing; +and attempts were made in vain to create a faction against him in his +own abbey; then at last the neighbouring thanes, many of Danish +extraction and scarcely Christian, were stirred up to invade the +territory of the abbey, and were promised immunity and secure +possession of their plunder. They liked the pleasant excitement of +galloping over Dunstan’s ecclesiastical patrimony, of plundering the +farms and driving away the cattle, and there was scarcely a night in +which some fresh outrage was not committed. At this point the action of +our tale recommences. + +It will be remembered that the father of Ella had found relief from his +grief, after the death of his unhappy son Oswald, in building and +endowing the monastery of St. Wilfred, situate on the river’s bank, at +a short distance from the hall. + +The completion of the work had, however, been reserved for his son, +and, everything being now done, it became the earnest desire of Ella, +with the consent of the brethren who had been gathered into the +incomplete building, to place it under the Benedictine rule. + +For this end he determined to send a messenger to negotiate with +Dunstan at Glastonbury, and, yielding to Alfred’s most earnest request, +he consented to send him, in company with Father Cuthbert, who was to +be the future prior, upon the mission. + +Since the desertion of Elfric, his brother Alfred had been as a +ministering angel to his father, so tender had been his affection, yet +so manly and pure. He was by nature gifted with great talents, and his +progress in ecclesiastical lore, almost the only lore of the day, would +have well fitted him for the Church; but if this idea had ever been in +the mind of the thane, he put it aside after the departure of Elfric. + +But it must not be supposed that the only literature of the period was +in Latin. Alfred, the great King Alfred, skillful in learning as in +war, had translated into English (as we have mentioned earlier in our +tale) the _History of the World_, by Orosius, and other works, which +formed a part of the royal library in the palace of Edred. All these +works were known to his young namesake, Alfred, far better than they +had been either to Edwy or Elfric, in their idleness, and he was well +informed beyond the average scope of his time. But his imagination had +long been fired by the accounts he had received of Glastonbury and its +sanctuary, so that he eagerly besought his father to allow him to go +thither. + +But the poor old thane felt much like Jacob when he was begged to send +Benjamin into Egypt. Elfric was not, so far as home ties were +concerned, they had never heard of him since the coronation day, and +now they would take Alfred from him. + +It may seem strange to our readers that Ella should regard a journey +from the Midlands to Glastonbury in so serious a light; but Wessex and +Mercia had long been independent states, communication infrequent, and +it would certainly be many weeks before Alfred could return; while +inexperience magnified the actual dangers of the way. + +Coaches and carriages were not in use, neither would the state of the +roads have rendered such use practicable. All travellers were forced to +journey on horseback, and, like Elfric when he departed from home, to +carry all their baggage in a similar manner. + +The navigation of the Avon, which would have opened the readiest road +to the southwest, was impeded by sandbanks and rapids; there were as +yet no locks, no canals. + +Once the Romans had made matchless roads, as in other parts of their +empire, but not a stone had been laid thereon since the days of Hengist +and Horsa, and many a stone had been taken away for building purposes, +or to pave the courtyards of Saxon homes.xviii + +Still the ancient Foss Way, which once extended from Lincolnshire to +Devonshire, formed the best route, and it was decided to travel by it, +making a brief detour, so as to enable the party to pass the first +night at the residence of an old friend of the family who dwelt on the +high borderland which separates the counties of Oxford and Warwick, in +old times the frontier between the two Celtic tribes, the Dobuni and +the Carnabii. + +So Father Cuthbert and Alfred, with three attendant serfs, left +Æscendune early on a fine summer morning, and followed a byroad through +the forest, until, after a few difficulties, arising from entanglement +in copse or swamp, they reached the Foss Way. Wide and spacious, this +grand old road ran through the dense forest in an almost unbroken line; +huge trees overshadowed it on either side, and the growth of underwood +was so dense that no one could penetrate it without difficulty. +Sometimes the scene changed, and a dense swamp, amidst which the timber +of former generations rotted away, succeeded, but the grand old road +still offered, even in its decay, a firm and sure footing. Built with +consummate skill, the lower strata of which it was composed remained so +firm and unyielding, that, could the Romans but have returned for a few +years, they might have restored it to its ancient perfection, when the +traveller might post rapidly upon it from Lincoln even to Totness in +Devonshire. + +Little, however, did our travellers think of the grand men of old who +had built this mighty causeway six or seven centuries earlier. Their +chief feeling, when they reached it, was one of relief; the change was +so acceptable from the tangled and miry bypath through the forest. + +“Holy St. Wilfred,” exclaimed Father Cuthbert, “but my steed hath +wallowed like a hog. I have sunk in the deep mire where was no +footing.” + +“A little grooming will soon make him clean again, father.” + +“But verily we have passed through a slough and a wilderness, and my +inner man needeth refreshment; let us even partake of the savoury pies +wherewith the provident care of thy father hath provided us.” + +The suggestion was by no means a bad one, and the party sat down on a +green and sloping bank, overshadowed by a mighty oak which grew by the +wayside. It was noontide, and the shelter from the heat was not at all +unpleasant. Their wallets were overhauled, and choice provision found +against famine by the road. There were few, very few inns where +travellers could obtain decent accommodation, and every preparation had +been made for a camp out when necessary. + +So they ate their midday meal with thankfulness of heart, and reclined +awhile ere courting more fatigue. The day was lovely, and the silence +of the woods almost oppressive; nought save the hum of insects broke +its tranquillity. + +Fatigued by the exertions of the morning, the whole party fell asleep; +the gentle breeze, the quiet rustling of the leaves, all combined to +lull the senses. While they thus slept, the day wore on, and the sun +was declining when they awoke and wondered that they had wasted their +time for so long a period. + +Starting again with renewed energy, they travelled onward through the +mighty forest till sunset, when they approached the high ground which +now runs along the northern boundary of Oxfordshire and of which +Edgehill forms a portion. Though progress had been slow, for the road, +although secure, was yet in so neglected a state as to form an obstacle +to rapid travelling, and they had met no fellow travellers. Leaving the +Foss Way, which followed the valley, and slowly ascending the hill by a +well-marked track, they looked back from its summit upon a glorious +view. Far as the eye could reach stretched the forest to the northward, +one huge unbroken expanse save where the thin wreaths of smoke showed +some village or homestead, where English farmers already wrestled with +the obstacles nature had formed. But westward the view was more +home-like; the setting sun was sinking behind the huge heights now +known as the Malvern Hills, which reared their forms proudly in the +distant horizon. + +The western sky was rich in the hues of the departing sun, which cast +its declining beams upon village and homestead, thinly scattered in the +fertile vale through which the Foss Way pursued its course. + +But our travellers did not stay long to contemplate the beauty of the +scene; they were yet ten miles from the hospitable roof where they had +purposed spending the night, and they had overslept themselves so long +at their noontide halt, that they found darkness growing apace, while +their weary animals could scarcely advance farther. + +“Is there no inn, no Christian dwelling near, where we may repose? +Verily my limbs bend beneath me with fatigue,” said Father Cuthbert. + +“There is no dwelling of Christian men nearer than the halls of the +Thane of Rollrich, and we shall scarcely reach them for a couple of +hours,” said Oswy, the serf. + +“Thou art a Job’s comforter. What sayest thou, Anlac?” + +“There are the remains of an old temple of heathen times not far from +here, a little on the right hand of the road, but they say the place is +haunted.” + +“Has it a roof to shelter us?” + +“Part of the ruins are well covered.” + +“Then thither we will go. Peradventure it will prove a safe abiding +place against wolves or evil men, and if there be demons we must even +exorcise them.” + +When they had emerged from the forest, they had, as we have seen, +ascended the high tableland which formed the northern frontier of the +territory of the Dobuni—passing over the very ground where, seven +hundred years later, the troops of the King and the Parliament were +arrayed against each other in deadly combat for the first time. + +But at this remote period the country where the Celts had once lived, +and whence their civilised descendants had been driven by the English, +had become a barren moorland. Scarce a tree grew on the heights, but a +wild common, with valley and hill alternating, much as on Dartmoor at +the present day, stretched before the travellers, and was traversed by +the old Roman trackway. Dreary indeed it looked in the darkening +twilight; here and there some huge crag overtopped the road, and then +the track lay along a flat surface. It was after passing some huge +misshapen stones, which spoke of early Celtic worship, that suddenly, +in the distance on the right, the ruined temple lay before them. + +Pillars of beautiful workmanship, evidently reared by Roman skill, +surrounded a paved quadrangle raised upon a terrace approached on all +sides by steps. These steps and the pavement were alike of stone, but +where weeds could grow they had grown, and the footing was damp and +slippery with rank vegetation and fungus growth. + +At the extremity of the quadrangle the roof still partly covered the +adytum or shrine from the sky, the platform reared itself upon its +flight of massive steps where early British Christianity had demolished +the idol, and beneath were chambers once appropriated to the use of the +priests, which, by the aid of fire, could shortly be made habitable. + +There was plenty of brushwood and underwood near, and our travellers +speedily made a large fire, which expelled the damp from the place, +albeit, as the smoke could only escape by an aperture in the roof, +which, it is needless to say, was not embraced in the original design +of the architect, it was not till the blaze had subsided and the +glowing embers alone warmed the chamber, that mortal lungs could bear +the stifling atmosphere, so charged had it been with smoke. + +Still it was very acceptable shelter to the travellers, who must +otherwise have camped out on the exposed moorland, and they made a +hearty and comfortable meal, which being concluded, Father Cuthbert +made a very brief address. + +“My brethren,” he said, “we have travelled, like Abraham from Ur of the +Chaldees, not ‘_sine numine_,’ that is not without God’s protection; +and as we are about to sleep in a place where devils once deluded +Christian people, it will not be amiss to say the night song, and +commend ourselves ‘_in manus Altissimi_,’ that is to say, to God’s +care.” + +The compline service was familiar to each one present, and Father +Cuthbert intoned it in a stentorian voice, particularly those portions +of the 91st Psalm which seemed to defy the Evil One, and he recited +just as if he were sure Satan was listening: + +“Thou shalt go upon the lion and the adder; the young lion and the +dragon shalt thou tread under thy feet.” + +All the company seemed to feel comfort in the words, and, first posting +a sentinel, to be relieved every three hours, they commended themselves +to sleep. + +Alfred found his couch very pleasant at first, but before he had been +long asleep his rest became disturbed by singular dreams. He thought he +was standing within a grassy glade in a deep forest; it was darkening +twilight, and he felt anxious to find his way from the spot, when his +guardian angel appeared to him, and pointed out a narrow track between +two huge rocks. He followed until he heard many voices, and saw a +strange light reflected on the tree tops, as if from beneath, when +amidst the din of voices he recognised Elfric’s tones. + +“Wouldst thou save thy brother, then proceed,” his guardian angel +seemed to whisper. + +He strove, in his dream, to proceed, when he awoke so vividly impressed +that he felt convinced coming events were casting their shadows before. +He could not drive the thought of Elfric from his mind; he slept, but +again in wild dreams his brother seemed to appear; once he seemed to +oppose Elfric’s passage over a plank which crossed a roaring torrent; +then he seemed as if he were falling, falling, amidst rushing waters, +when he awoke. + +“I can sleep no longer. I will look out at the night,” he said. + +A faint moon had arisen, and lent an uncertain light to the outlines of +hill, crag, and moorland, while it gilded the cornice above, where the +wind seemed to linger and moan over departed greatness. The Druidical +worship of olden days, the deluded worshippers now turned into dust, +and the cruel rites of their bloodstained worship, older even than +those of the ruined temple, rose before his imagination, until fancy +seemed to people the silent wastes before him with those who had once +crowded round that circle of misshapen stones which stood out vividly +on the verge of the plain. + +He felt that nameless fear which such thoughts excite so strongly, that +he sought the company of the sentinel whom they had posted to guard +their slumbers, and found not one but two at the post. + +“Oswy and Anlac! both watching?” + +“It was too lonesome for one,” said Oswy. + +“Have you seen or heard aught amiss?” + +“Yes. About an hour ago, there were cries such as men make when they +die in torture, smothered by other sounds like the beating of drums, +blowing of horns, and I know not what.” + +“You were surely dreaming?” + +“No; it came from yonder circle of stones, and a light like that of a +great fire seemed to shine around.” + +Alfred made no reply; but he remembered that they had talked of the +Druidical rites the night before, and thought that the idea had taken +such hold upon the minds of his followers as to suggest the sounds to +their fancy. Still he watched with them till the first red streak of +day appeared in the east. + + + + +CHAPTER X. +ELFRIC AND ALFRED. + + +Early in the morning our travellers arose and took their way through an +open country which abounded with British and Roman remains; no fewer +than three entrenched camps, once fortifying the frontier of the +Dobuni, lying within sight or hard by the road, which, skirting the +summit of the watershed between the Thames and the Avon, afforded +magnificent views. + +About an hour after starting they came upon a singular monument of +Druidical times, consisting of sixty huge stones arranged in a circular +form, with an entrance at the northeast, while a single rock or large +stone, the largest of all, stood apart from the circle, as if looking +down into the valley beneath.xix + +“What can be the origin of this circle?” said Alfred. + +“It belongs to the old days of heathenesse; before the Welsh were +conquered by the Romans, perhaps before our Blessed Lord came into the +world, these stones were placed as you now see them,” replied Father +Cuthbert. + +“What purpose could they serve?” + +“For their devil worship, I suppose; you see those five stones which +stand at some little distance?” + +“They are the Five Whispering Knights,” said Oswy. + +“They are the remains of a cromlech or altar whereon they offered their +sons and daughters unto devils, and shed innocent blood, wherefore the +Lord brought the Romans upon them.” + +“But the Romans were idolatrous, too.” + +“Yet their religion was milder than the one it superseded. Jupiter +required no human sacrifices; and even otherwise, God has said that the +wicked man is often His sword to avenge Him of His adversaries.” + +“Oswy looks as if he had a tale to tell.” + +“Speak out, Oswy, and let us all hear,” said the good father. + +“Well, then,” said Oswy, “these were not once stones at all, but living +men—a king, five knights, and sixty soldiers—who came to take Long +Compton, the town down there, in the valley; but it so happened that a +great enchanter dwelt there, and being out that morning he saw them +coming, muttered his spells, and while the king —that stone yonder—was +in front looking down on his prey, the five knights all whispering +together, and the sixty soldiers behind in a circle, they were all +suddenly changed into stone.” + +They all laughed heartily at this, and leaving the Rholdrwyg Stones, +turned aside to the hospitable hall where they ought to have spent the +previous night. So delighted was the Thane of Rholdrwyg or Rollrich to +receive his guests that he detained them almost by force all that day, +and it was only on the morrow that he permitted them to continue their +journey. + +They joined the Foss Way again after a few miles at Stow on the Wold; +the road was so good that they succeeded in reaching Cirencester, the +ancient Corinium, that night, a distance of nearly thirty miles. Here +they found a considerable population, for the town had been one of +great importance, and was still one of the chief cities of southern +Mercia, full of the remains of her departed Roman greatness, with +shattered column and shapely arch yet diversifying the thatched hovels +of the Mercians. + +Two more days brought them to Bath, but the old Roman city had been +utterly destroyed, and long subsequently the English town had been +founded upon its site, so that there seemed no identity between Bath +and Aqua Solis, such as prevailed between Cirencester and Corinium. + +One day’s journey from Bath brought them at eventide within an easy day +of Glastonbury, so that they paused in their journey for the last time +at a well-known hostelry, chiefly occupied by pilgrims bound for +Glastonbury, for the morrow was a high festival, or rather the +commencement of one, and Dunstan was expected to conduct the ceremonies +in person. + +So crowded was the hostelry that Alfred and his revered tutor could +only obtain a small chamber for their private accommodation, while +their servants were forced to content themselves with such share of the +straw of the outbuildings as they could obtain, in company with many +others. + +It was still early when they stopped at the inn, for one of their +horses, which they had purchased by the way, had broken down so +completely that they could not well proceed, and they were about to +enter a dark and dangerous forest, full of ravenous bears and wolves, +which had already cast its shade upon their path. + +But this was not an uncommon feature in English travelling of that +century, when there were no horses to be hired at the inns, and +travellers could only purchase the animals they needed (if there were +any to be sold); the forest, too, was reported to be the haunt of +freebooters, and men dared to affirm that they were encouraged by the +king to prey upon the fraternity at Glastonbury. + +Still the dangers of the forest did not deter Alfred, who dearly loved +woodland scenery and sport, from strolling therein when their hasty +meal had been despatched, weary of the continuous objurgations and +smalltalk of the crowded inn. + +He had wandered some distance, lost in thought, when all at once he +started in some surprise, for the spot on which he was seemed familiar +to him, although he had never been in Wessex before. + +Yes, he certainly knew the glade, with the fine beech trees surrounding +it: where could he have seen it before? All at once he remembered his +dream in the ruined temple, and started to discover the secret +foreknowledge he had thus possessed. + +He wandered up and down the glade till it became dusk, and then shook +off the thoughts to which he had been a prey, and started to return to +the inn, when, to his dismay, he found he had forgotten in which +direction it lay. + +While seeking to find the path by which he had entered the glade, he +suddenly noticed a beaten track between two huge rocks, which seemed to +point in the direction he had come, and yet which he recognised as the +path he had been bidden to follow in his dream. He hesitated not, but +committed himself to it, while darkness seemed to increase each moment. + +He was beginning to fear the dangers of a night in the woods, when he +was startled by a sound as of many low voices, and at the same moment +became conscious that a light was tinging with red the upper branches +of the trees at no little distance, as if proceeding from some fire, +hidden by the formation of the ground. + +At first he thought that he was in the neighbourhood of outlaws, and +tried to retire, but, as in his dream, he felt so strong an impulse to +discover the party whom the woods concealed that he persevered. + +Suddenly he stopped short, for he had come to the edge of a kind of +natural amphitheatre, a deep hollow in the earth, the sides of which +were covered with bushes and trees, while the area at the bottom might +perhaps have covered a hundred square yards, and was clothed with +verdant turf. Not one, but several fires were burning, and around them +were reclining small groups of armed men, while some were walking about +chatting with each other. + +Alfred gazed in much surprise, for the party did not at all realise his +conception of a body of freebooters or robbers; they all seemed to wear +the same uniform, and to resemble each other in their accoutrements and +characteristics; they rather resembled, in short, a detachment of +regular forces than a body of men whom chance might have thrown +together, or the fortune of predatory war. + +While he gazed upon them, two of their number, whose attire was rich +and costly, and who seemed to be of higher rank than the rest, perhaps +their officers, attracted his attention as they walked near the spot +where, clinging to a tree, he overlooked the encampment from above. + +One of them was a tall, dark warrior, whose whole demeanour was that of +the professional soldier, whose dress was plain yet rich, and who might +easily be guessed to be the commander of the party. He was talking +earnestly, but in a subdued tone, to his younger companion, whom he +seemed to be labouring to convince of the propriety of some course of +action. + +Alfred watched them eagerly; the form of the younger—for so he appeared +by his slender frame—seemed familiar to him, and when at last they +turned their faces and walked towards him, the light of a neighbouring +fire showed him the face of his brother Elfric. + +“My dream!” he mentally exclaimed. + +They were evidently talking about some very important subject, and it +was also evident that the objections of the younger, whatever they +might be, were becoming rapidly overruled, when, as chance, if it were +chance, would have it, they paused in their circuit of the little camp +just beneath the tree where Alfred was posted. + +“You see,” said the elder, “that our course is clear, so definitely +clear that we have but to do our duty to the king, while we avenge a +thousand little insults we have ourselves received from this insolent +monk—such insults as warriors wash out with blood.” + +“Yet he is a churchman, and it would be called utter sacrilege.” + +“Sacrilege! is a churchman’s blood redder than that of layman, and is +he not doomed as a traitor by a judgment as righteous as ever English +law pronounced! did he not keep Edwy from his throne during the +lifetime of the usurper Edred!” + +“That was the sentence of the Witan, and you served Edred.” + +“I did not owe the allegiance of an Englishman to either, being of +foreign birth, and so was no traitor; as for the Witan, it is well +known Dunstan influenced their decision at the death of the royal +Edmund.” + +“I never heard the assertion before.” + +“You have many things still to learn; you are but young as yet. But let +it pass. Does not his conduct to Queen Elgiva merit death!” + +“I think it does. But still not without sentence of law.” + +“That sentence has been in fact pronounced, for in such cases as these, +where the subject is too powerful for the direct action of the law to +reach him, the decision of the king and council must pass for law, and +they have decided that Dunstan must die, and have left the execution of +the sentence—to us.” + +He did not add that the council in question consisted of the giddy +young nobles who had surrounded Edwy from the first, aided by a few +hoary sinners whose lives of plunder and rapine had given them a +personal hatred of the Church. + +Elfric heaved a sigh, and said: + +“If so, I suppose I must obey; but I wish I had not been sent on the +expedition.” + +“It is to test your loyalty.” + +“Then it shall be proved. I have no personal motives of gratitude +towards Dunstan.” + +“Rather the contrary.” + +“Rather the contrary, as you say. But what sound was that? Surely +something stirred the bush!” + +“A rabbit or a hare. You are becoming fanciful and timid. Well, you +will remember that tomorrow there must be no timidity, no yielding to +what some would call conscience, but wise men the scruples of +superstition. We shall not reach the monastery till dark, most of the +visitors will then have quitted it, and we shall take the old fox in a +trap.” + +“You will not slay him in cold blood!” + +“No. I shall bid him follow me to the king, and if he and his resist, +as probably they will, then their blood be on their own heads. But +surely—” + +At that moment a large stone, which Alfred had most inopportunely +dislodged, rolled down the bank, and made Elfric, who was in its path, +leap aside. Alfred, whose foot had rested upon it, slipped, and for a +moment seemed in danger of following the stone, but he had happily time +to grasp the tree securely, and by its aid he drew himself back and +darted into the wood. + +Luckily there was moonlight enough to guide him by the track he had +hitherto followed, and he ran forward, dreading nothing so much as to +fall into the hands of the friends of his brother, and trusting that he +might prevent the execution of the foul deed he had heard meditated. He +ran for a long distance before he paused, when he became aware that +pursuers were on his track. Luckily his life had been spent so much in +the open air that he was capable of great exertion, and could run well. +So he resumed his course, although he knew not where it would lead him, +and soon had the pleasure of feeling that he was distancing his +pursuers. Yet every time he ran over a piece of smooth turf he fancied +he could hear them in his rear, and it was with the greatest feeling of +relief that he suddenly emerged from the wood upon the Foss Way, and +saw the lights of the hostelry at no great distance below him. + +His pursuers did not follow him farther, probably unwilling to betray +their presence to the neighbourhood, and perhaps utterly unconscious +that the intruder upon their peace was possessed of any dangerous +secrets, or other than some rustic woodman belated on his homeward way, +who would be unable in any degree to interfere with them or to guess +their designs. + +But it was not till the ardour of his flight had abated, that Alfred +could fully realise that his unhappy brother was committed to a deed of +scandalous atrocity, and the discovery was hard for him to bear. The +strong impression which his dream had made upon him—an impression that +he was to be the means of saving his brother from some great sin—came +upon him now with greater force than ever, and was of great comfort. +The identity of the scenery he had seen in dreamland with the actual +scenery he had gone through, made him feel that he was under the +special guidance of Providence. + +Returning to the inn he sought Father Cuthbert, and found him somewhat +uneasy at his long absence, and to him he communicated all that he had +seen and heard. + +The good father was a man of sound sense but of much affection, and at +first he could not credit that the boy he had loved so well, Elfric of +Æscendune, should have grown to be the associate of murderers, for such +only could either he or Alfred style the agents of Edwy’s wrath. + +But, once fully convinced, he was equal to the emergency. + +“We will not start at once, we should but break down on the road, and +defeat our own object. We must rest quietly, and sleep soundly if +possible, and start with the earliest dawn. We shall reach Glastonbury +by midday, and be able to warn the holy abbot of his danger in good +time.” + +So Alfred was forced to curb his impatience and to try to sleep +soundly. Father Cuthbert soon gave good assurance that he was asleep; +but the noisy manner in which the assurance was given banished sleep +from the eyelids of his anxious pupil. At length he yielded to +weariness both of mind and body, and the overwrought brain was still. + +He was but little refreshed when he heard Father Cuthbert’s morning +salutation, “_Benedicamus Domino_,” and could hardly stammer out the +customary reply, “_Deo gratias_.” + +Every one rose early in those days, and the timely departure of the +party from Æscendune excited no special comment. Hundreds of pilgrims +were on the road, and Alfred expressed his conviction that there would +be force enough at Glastonbury to protect Dunstan, to which Father +Cuthbert replied—“If he would accept such protection.” + +On former days their journey had been frequently impeded by broken +bridges and dangerous fords; but as they drew near Glastonbury the +presence of a mighty civilising power became manifest. The fields were +well tilled, for the possessions for miles around the abbey were let to +tenant farmers by the monks, who had first reclaimed them from the +wilderness. The farm houses and the abodes of the poor were better +constructed, and the streams were all bridged over, while the old Roman +road was kept in tolerable repair. + +A short distance before they reached the city, the pilgrims, who were a +space in advance of the party, came in sight of the towers of the +monastery, whereupon they all paused for one moment, and raised the +solemn strain then but recently composed— + +I. +Founded on the Rock of Ages, +Salem, city of the blest, +Built of living stones most precious, +Vision of eternal rest, +Angel hands, in love attending, +Thee in bridal robes invest. +II. +Down from God all new descending +Thee our joyful eyes behold, +Like a bride adorned for spousals, +Decked with radiant wealth untold; +All thy streets and walls are fashioned, +All are bright with purest gold! +III. +Gates of pearl, for ever open, +Welcome there the loved, the lost; +Ransomed by their Saviour’s merits; +This the price their freedom cost: +City of eternal refuge, +Haven of the tempest-tost. +IV. +Fierce the blow, and firm the pressure, +Which hath polished thus each stone: +Well the Mastermind hath fitted +To his chosen place each one. +When the Architect takes reck’ning, +He will count the work His Own. +V. +Glory be to God, the Father; +Glory to th’ Eternal Son; +Glory to the Blessed Spirit: +One in Three, and Three in One. +Glory, honour, might, dominion, +While eternal ages run. +Amen. xx + + +The grand strains seemed to bring assurance of Divine aid to Alfred, +and he could but imitate Father Cuthbert, who lifted up his stentorian +voice and thundered out in chorus, as they drew near the pilgrims. + +Here they left the Foss Way for the side road leading to the monastery, +now only a short distance from them. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +THE FLIGHT OF DUNSTAN. + + +It was the day of St. Alban, the protomartyr of England, and the saint +was greatly honoured at Glastonbury, where, as we have seen, Dunstan +was in residence, and, as a natural consequence, every department of +the monastic life was quickened by his presence. The abbey was full of +monks who had professed the Benedictine rule, and having but recently +been rebuilt, it possessed many improvements hardly yet introduced into +English architecture in general. The greater part of the building was +of stone, and it was not, in its general features, unlike some of the +older colleges at Oxford or Cambridge, although the order of the +architecture was, of course, exclusively that of the Saxon period, +characterised by the heavy and massive, yet imposing, circular arch. + +But upon the church or abbey chapel all the skill of the architect had +been concentrated, and it seemed worthy alike of its founder and of its +object. Seen upon the morning in question, when the bright summer sun +filled every corner with gladsome light, just as the long procession of +white-robed priests, and monks in their sombre garb, with their hoods +thrown back, were entering for high mass, and the choral psalm arose, +it was peculiarly imposing. + +The procession had not long entered the church, when the party of +pilgrims we have described, closely followed by our friends from +Æscendune, entered the quadrangle, and crossed it to the great porch of +the church. It was with the greatest difficulty they could enter, for +the whole floor of the huge building was crowded with kneeling +worshippers. The portion of Scripture appointed for the epistle was +being chanted, and the words struck Alfred’s ears as he entered—“He +pleased God, and was beloved of Him, so that, living among sinners, he +was translated.” + +The words seemed to come upon him with special application to the +danger the great abbot was in, and the thought that the martyr’s day +might be stained by a deed of blood, or, as some might say, hallowed by +another martyrdom, added to his agitation. + +And now he had gained a position where the high altar was in full view, +illuminated by its countless tapers, and fragrant with aromatic odours. +There, in the centre of the altar, his face turned to the people as the +sequence was ended, and the chanting of the gospel from the rood loft +began, stood the celebrant, and Alfred gazed for the first time upon +the face of Dunstan, brought out in strong relief by the glare of the +artificial light. + +He strove earnestly to concentrate his thoughts upon the sacred words. +They were from the sixteenth of St. Matthew, beginning at the words: + +“Then said Jesus unto His disciples, If any man will come after Me, let +him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. + +“For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it and whosoever will +lose his life for My sake, shall find it.” + +He could not but feel the strange coincidence that words such as these +should come to strengthen him, when he felt he had most need to shelter +himself under the shadow of the Cross. The service proceeded, the +creed, sanctus, and other choral portions being sung by the whole +monastic body in sonorous strains; and for a time Alfred was able to +make a virtue of necessity, and to give himself wholly to the +solemnity; but when it was over and the procession left the church, he +sought an immediate interview with the abbot, in company with Father +Cuthbert. + +Dunstan had removed his sacerdotal garments, and had returned to his +own cell, which only differed in size from the cells of his brethren. +The furniture was studiously plain: hard wooden chairs; an unvarnished +table; a wooden bedstead, with no bed, and only a loose coverlet of +sackcloth; the walls uncovered by tapestry; the floor unfurnished with +rushes;—such was the chamber of the man who had ruled England, and +still exercised the most unbounded spiritual influence in the land. + +There was no ostentation in this; every monk in the monastery lived in +similar simplicity. Precious books and manuscripts, deeply laden with +gold and colours, were deposited on coarse wooden shelves, while the +Benedictine Breviary lay on the table, written by some learned and +painstaking scribe, skilful in illumination. + +The appearance of the abbot was little changed since we last beheld +him; perhaps care had traced a few more lines in his countenance, and +his general manner was more prompt and decided, now that danger menaced +him, for menace him he knew it did, although he hardly knew from what +quarter the bolt would fall. + +A lay brother brought him some slight refreshment, the first he had +taken during the day. + +The humility inculcated by each precept of the order forbade the +brother in question to speak until his superior gave him leave to do +so; but Dunstan read at once the desire of his subordinate, and said: + +“What hast thou to tell me, Brother Osgood?” + +“Many people are without, seeking speech of thee.” + +“This is the case each day; are there any whose business appears +pressing?” + +“A company has arrived from Æscendune, or some such place in Mercia, +and two of the party—a priest and a young layman—seek an immediate +interview, saying their business is of life and death.” + +“Æscendune!—admit them first.” + +The brother left the cell at once, and soon returned, ushering in +Father Cuthbert and Alfred, who saluted the great churchman with all +due humility, and waited for him to speak, not without much evident +uneasiness; perhaps some little impatience was also manifest. + +“Are you of the house of Æscendune, my son?” enquired Dunstan of +Alfred. “Methinks I know you by your likeness to your brother Elfric.” + +“I am the son of Ella, father; we have been sent on pressing business, +which is notified by this parchment” (presenting the formal request on +the part of the brethren of Æscendune, which was the original cause of +their journey) “but we have yet a more pressing matter to bring before +you: wicked men seek your life, my father.” + +“I am well aware of that; surely you do not dream, my son, that my eyes +are closed to a fact known throughout unhappy England.” + +“But, my father, I speak of immediate danger, which God in His great +mercy enabled me to discover but last night; this very night the abbey +will be attacked, and your life or liberty in danger.” + +“This night!” said Dunstan, in surprise; “and how have you discovered +this? Do not hesitate, my son tell me all.” + +Thus adjured, Alfred repeated the whole story of his discovery of the +concealed expedition. + +“You saw the leaders closely then?” said Dunstan, when he had finished; +“describe the elder one to me.” + +“A tall dark man, like a foreign soldier, in plain but rich apparel, a +scar on the right cheek.” + +“Stay, my son, I know him; his name is Redwald, and he is the captain +of the king’s bodyguard. Now describe the other with whom he held +converse.” + +“Father, I cannot.” + +“My son—” but Dunstan paused, for he saw that poor Alfred had covered +his face with his hands, and he at once divined the truth, with full +conviction, at the same time, of the truth and earnestness of Alfred’s +statement. + +“My son, God can dispose and turn the hearts of all men as seemeth best +to His wisdom; and I doubt not, in answer to our fervent prayers, He +will turn the heart of your poor brother. Meanwhile, we ourselves will +take such precautions as shall spare him the guilt of sacrilege. + +“Brother Osgood, summon the prior to my presence, and cause the +brethren to assemble, one and all, in the chapter house: we have need +of instant deliberation.” + +The lay brother departed, and Dunstan, whose cheerfulness did not +desert him for one moment, chatted familiarly with Father Cuthbert, or +perused the parchment the good father had just presented through +Alfred. + +“It is a great and pleasing thing,” he said, “to behold how our Order +is spreading through this benighted land, and how spiritual children +arise everywhere to our holy father Benedict; surely the time is near +at hand when the wilderness shall blossom as the rose.” + +The prior, Father Guthlac, entered at this moment, and Dunstan talked +apart with him for some moments with extreme earnestness, but only the +last words which passed between them were audible. + +“Yes, my brother, you have the words of Scripture,” said Dunstan, “to +support your proposal: ‘When they persecute you in one city, flee ye +unto another.’” + +“Yet it is hard to leave a spot one has reared with such tender care.” + +“There was One Who left more for us; and I do not think they will +destroy the place, or even attempt to destroy it: they will fill it +with those ‘slow bellies, those evil beasts,’ the secular clergy, with +their wives.” + +“Fitter it should be a stye for hogs.” xxi + +“Nay, they are men after all; yet there is some reason to fear that, +like hogs, they wallow in the mire of sensuality; but their day will be +but a short one.” + +“My father!” + +“But a short one; it hath been foreshown me in visions of the night +that the Evil One will triumph indeed, but that his triumph will be +very short; and, alas a green tree which standeth in the pride of its +youth and might must, ere the close of that triumph, be hewn down.” + +“By our hands, father?” + +“God forbid! by the Hand of God, I speak but as it has been revealed to +me.” + +It was a well-known fact that Dunstan either was subject to marvellous +hallucinations, and was a monomaniac on that one point, while so wise +in all other matters, or that he was the object of special revelations, +and was favoured with spiritual visions, as well as temptations, which +do not ordinarily fall within the observation or experience of men. + +So Father Guthlac and the rest of the company listened with the +greatest reverence to his declaration, as to the words of an inspired +oracle. + +“But let us go to our brethren; they await us,” said Dunstan, speaking +to the prior. “Brother Osgood, take these our guests to the +refectorarius, and ask him to see that they and all their company taste +our bounty at least this day; tomorrow we may have nought to offer +them.” + +In the famous chapter of the whole house of Glastonbury which followed, +and which became historical, prompt resolution was taken on Dunstan’s +report, which did honour to the brotherhood, as evincing both their +resignation and their trust in God, Who they believed would, to use the +touching phrase of the Psalmist, “turn their captivity as the rivers in +the south;” so that they “who went forth weeping, bearing good seed, +should come again with joy, and bring their sheaves with them.” + +So it was at once agreed that the whole community should break up +immediately; that within the next hour all the monks should depart for +the various monasteries of the Benedictine order; and that Dunstan +himself, with but two companions, should take refuge across the sea, +sailing from the nearest port on the Somersetshire coast. + +A dozen of the brethren were to return with Father Cuthbert and Alfred +to Æscendune at once, and to bear with them all the necessary powers +for the accomplishment of the good thane’s wishes in regard to the +monastery of St. Wilfred, while Father Cuthbert was then and there +admitted by Dunstan to the order of St. Benedict —the necessity of the +case justifying some departure from the customary formalities. + +All being completely ordered and arranged, the chapter broke up, and +within an hour the monks were leaving as rapidly as boys leave school +when breaking-up day comes, but not quite so joyously. They strove to +attract as little attention as possible, and, in most cases, travelled +in the ordinary dress of the country. + +Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines who were to accompany him on his +return—- so much more speedy than had been anticipated —were already +prepared to start, when, to their surprise, Alfred could not be found. + +Alfred was at that moment in the cell of Dunstan, with whom he had +obtained, not without great trouble, another brief interview. + +“God bless you, my son,” said Dunstan, “and render unto you according +to all you have done for His glory this day, and restore you your +brother safe in body and soul!” + +But it was not merely for a blessing that Alfred had sought the abbot. + +“Father,” he said, “if I have happily been of service to you, I ask but +one favour in return; one brother has sought your life, let the other +remain with you as a bodyguard.” + +“But your father?” + +“I am satisfied that I am but speaking as he would have me speak.” + +“But you will become an exile.” + +“Gladly, if I can but serve you, father.” + +“But, my child, I have no means of support for you abroad; as monks we +shall find hospitality in every Benedictine house, but you are only a +layman.” + +“Then, father, I but ask you to allow me to accompany you to the +coast.” + +“I grant it, my son, for I believe God inspires the wish. Be it as you +desire, but one of your serfs must accompany you; it would not be safe +to travel home alone.” + +So Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines started back to Æscendune +without Alfred, bearing Dunstan’s explanation of the matter to the +half-bereaved father whose faith, they feared, would be sorely tried, +and leaving Oswy to be his companion. + +It was now drawing near nightfall, and the abbey was almost deserted; +all the pilgrims had left with the monks, although many of them would +willingly have put their trust in the arm of flesh and remained to +fight for Dunstan against his temporal foes, even as he—so they piously +believed—routed their spiritual enemies. In that vast abbey there were +now but six persons—Dunstan, Guthlac, Alfred, the lay brother Osgood, +Oswy, and a guide who knew all the bypaths of the country. + +Desolate and solitary indeed seemed the huge pile of untenanted +buildings as the evening breeze swept through them. The last straggler +had gone; Dunstan was still in his cell arranging or destroying certain +papers, the guide and lay brothers held six strong and serviceable +horses in the courtyard below, near the open gate, impatient to start, +and blaming secretly the dilatoriness of their great chieftain. They +watched the sun as he sank lower and lower in the western sky, and +thought of the woods and forests they must traverse, frequented by +wolves, and sometimes by outlaws whom they dreaded far more. Still +Dunstan did not appear. + +Alfred and Guthlac, on a watchtower above, gazed on the plain stretched +before them. Mile after mile it extended towards that forest where the +enemy was now known to lurk, and they watched each road, nay, each +copse and field, with jealous eye, lest it should conceal an enemy. +Ofttimes the shadow of some passing cloud, as it swept over moor or +mere, was taken for an armed host; ofttimes the wind, as it sighed +amongst the trees and blew the dried leaves hither and thither, seemed +to carry the warning “An enemy is near.” + +At length danger seemed to show itself plainly: just as the sun set, a +dark shadow moved from a distant angle of the forest on the plain +beneath, and the words “The enemy!” escaped simultaneously from Alfred +and Guthlac as the setting sun seemed reflected upon spear and sword, +flashing in a hundred points as they caught the reflection of the +departing luminary. + +Alfred, at the prior’s desire, hurried to the chamber of Dunstan. + +“Father,” he said, “the enemy are near. They have left the forest.” + +“That is four miles in distance: there will be time for me to finish +this letter to my brother of Abingdon.” + +“But, father, their horses may be fleeter than ours.” + +“We are under God’s protection: I am sure we shall not be overtaken: be +at peace, my son.” + +Poor Alfred felt as if his faith were very sorely tried indeed, but he +strove to acquiesce. + +It was now quite dark, and the ears of the would-be fugitives were +strained to catch the sounds which should warn them of approaching +danger. + +At length they fancied they heard sounds arise from the plain before +them: suppressed noises, such as must unavoidably be made by a force on +its passage; and Alfred again sought the cell of Dunstan, yet dared not +enter, urgent though the emergency seemed. + +At this moment he was startled by a demoniacal burst of laughter, which +seemed to fill the corridor in which he waited with exultant joy. + +What could it be? he felt as if he had never heard such laughter +before—so terrible, yet so boisterous. + +A moment of dread silence, and then it began again, and filled each +corridor and chamber. + +At that moment Dunstan came forth, and saw the pale face of Alfred. + +“It is only the devil,” he said “we are not ignorant of his devices. + +“O Satan! thou that wert once an angel in heaven, art thou reduced to +bray like a jackass?” xxii + +Again the exultant peal resounded. + +“Be at peace,” said the abbot; “thou rejoicest at my departure; I shall +soon return to defy thee and thy allies.” + +And the laughter ceased. + +“We must lose no time,” he said; “the moment is at hand.” + +Locking each door behind him, he reached the party in the courtyard, +and each person mounted in a moment; then they passed under the great +archway. Oswy had remained behind one moment to lock the great gates, +and then they all rode forth boldly into the darkness. + +They passed rapidly in a direction at right angles to that in which +their pursuers were approaching, and at the distance of a mile they +halted for one moment to ascertain the cause of a great uproar which +suddenly arose. + +It was not difficult to divine its cause: it was the beating of axes +and hammers on the great outer door of the monastery. + +“It will occupy them nearly an hour,” said Dunstan, “and we shall be +far far away before they have succeeded in effecting an entrance.” + +So they rode on rapidly into the night. Before them lay the Foss Way, +the road was good and well known to them, the moon was shining +brightly, and their spirits rose with the excitement and the exertion. +Onward! Onward! + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +AT HIS WORST. + + +The unhappy Elfric had indeed fallen from his former self before he +reached the depth at which our readers have just seen him, joining with +Redwald in the unhallowed enterprise so happily frustrated, if indeed +it were yet frustrated, by his own brother. + +But when his father had returned to Æscendune alone, Elfric felt that +home ties were shattered, and that he had nothing but the royal favour +to depend upon, so he yielded to the wishes of King Edwy in all points. + +Immediately after his coronation, the reckless and ill-advised Edwy had +married Elgiva, xxiii in defiance of the ban of the Church, and then +had abandoned himself to the riotous society and foolish counsels of +young nobles vainer than those who cost Rehoboam so large a portion of +his kingdom. Amongst these Elfric was soon conspicuous and soon a +leader. His spirit and physical courage far beyond his years excited +their admiration, and in return they taught him all the mysteries of +evil which were yet unknown to him. + +Under such influences both the king and his favourite threw off all +outward semblance even of religion, and only sought the means of +enjoyment. Redwald ministered without reserve or restraint to all their +pleasures, and under his evil influence Edwy even found occasion to rob +and plunder his own grandmother, a venerable Saxon princess, in order +that he might waste the ill-gotten substance in riotous living. + +Yet there was a refinement in his vice: he did not care for coarse +sensual indulgence to any great extent; his wickedness was that of a +sensitive cultivated intellect, of a highly-wrought nervous +temperament. Unscrupulous—careless of truth—contemptuous of +religion—yet he had all that attraction in his person which first +endeared him to Elfric, whom he really loved. Alas! his love was deadly +as the breath of the upas tree to his friend and victim. When the first +measures of vengeance were taken against Dunstan, with the concurrence +of wicked but able ministers of state, Redwald was selected as the +agent who should bribe the thanes, and begin the course of conduct +which should eventually lead to the destruction of the enemy of the +king. He had only waited till the temper of the times seemed turned +against Dunstan (he judged it wrongly); and the king seemed secure +against every foe ere he planned the expedition we have introduced to +our readers. + +We will now resume the thread of our narrative. + +When the band of soldiers, headed by Redwald, had gained the gates of +the monastery, they found them, as we have seen, firmly locked and +barred. + +“Blow your horns; rouse up these sleepy monks to some purpose,” said +Redwald. “Why, they have not a light about the place.” + +A loud and vigorous blast of horns was blown, while the greater part of +the troop dismounted and paused impatiently for an answer from within. + +“Two or three of you step forward with your axes,” exclaimed Redwald. + +They did so, and thundered on the gate without any success, so stoutly +was it made. + +“What can it mean?” said Redwald. “All is silent as the grave.” + +“No; there is some one laughing at us,” said Elfric. + +A peal of merry laughter was heard within. + +Redwald was thoroughly enraged, and seizing an axe with his own hand, +he set the example of applying it to the gate, but without any result +save to split a few planks, while the iron framework, designed by +Dunstan himself, who was clever at such arts, held as firmly as ever. + +Unprovided with other means of forcing it, the besiegers had recourse +to fire, and gathering fuel with some difficulty, they piled it against +the gate. Shortly the woodwork caught, and the whole gate presently +yielded to the action of the fire; the iron bars, loosened by the +destruction of the woodwork, gave way, and the besiegers rushed into +the quadrangle. Here, all was dark and silent, not a sound to be heard +or a light seen. + +“What can it mean? Have they fled? You all heard the laughter!” + +“There it is again.” + +The boisterous and untimely mirth had begun just within the abbot’s +lodgings, and the doorway at the foot was immediately attacked. It +presently yielded, and Redwald, who had obtained a good notion of the +place, rushed with his chief villains to the chamber he knew to be +Dunstan’s; yet he began to fear failure, for the absence of all the +inmates was disheartening. No, not all, for there was the loud laughter +within the very chamber of the abbot. + +The door was fastened securely, and while the axes were doing their +destructive work upon it, the mocking laughter was again heard. Redwald +had become so enraged that he mentally vowed the direst vengeance upon +the untimely jester, when the door burst open and he rushed in. + +“Where is he? Surely there was some one here?” + +“Who could it be? We all heard the laughter.” + +But victim there was none; and searching all the place in vain, they +had to satiate their vengeance by destroying the humble furniture of +the abbot. + +What to do next they knew not, and Redwald, deeply mystified, was +reluctantly forced to own his discomfiture, and to prepare to pass the +night in the abbey. Accordingly, his men dispersed in search of food +and wine. Some found their way to the buttery; it was but poorly +supplied, all the provisions in the place having been given to the +poorer pilgrims by the departing monks. The cellar was not so easily +emptied, and such wine as had been stored up for future use was at once +appropriated. + +Redwald and Elfric, having shared the common meal gloomily, were seated +in the abbot’s chamber—little did Elfric dream that his brother had so +recently been in the same room—when one of the guards entered, bringing +with him a stranger. He turned out to be a neighbouring thane, one of +those bitter enemies to Dunstan whom Edwy had planted round the +monastery, and he came to give information that he had seen Dunstan +with five companions escaping by the Foss Way. + +Redwald jumped up eagerly. “How long since?” he asked. + +“About two hours, and ten miles off, I was returning home from a +distant farm of mine.” + +“Why did you not stop them?” + +“I was too weak for that; they were six to one. I heard you had been +seen coming here by a cowherd, and came to warn you. If you ride fast +you may catch the holy fox yet before he runs to earth; but you must be +very quick.” + +“What pace were they riding?” + +“Slowly at that moment; it was up a hill.” + +Redwald rushed from the room, crying, “To horse, to horse!” but found +only a portion of his men awake: the others were mainly drunk and +sleeping it off on the floor. + +Cursing their untimely indulgence, he got about a dozen men rapidly +mounted on the fleetest horses, taking care Elfric should be one, and +dashed off in pursuit of the fugitives. + +Dunstan and his party had ridden some four or five hours, when the moon +became overcast, and low peals of distant thunder were heard. The +atmosphere was so intensely hot, and the silence of nature so +oppressive, that it was evident some convulsion was at hand. + +“Is there any shelter near?” + +“Only a ruined city xxiv in the wood on the left hand, but it is a +dangerous place to approach after nightfall. They say evil spirits lurk +there.” + +“They tell that story of every ruined place, be it city, temple, or +house; and even if it be, we have more cause to dread evil men than +evil spirits.” + +The guide hesitated no longer, and struck into a bypath, which +penetrated the depth of the woody marsh through which the Foss Way then +had its course. After a minute or two it became evident, from the +footing, that they were upon the paved work of a causeway overgrown +with weeds and rank herbage; huge mounds showed where fortifications +had once existed, and shortly, broken pillars and ruined walls appeared +at irregular intervals. + +They had little time to look around them, for the storm had come +rapidly up, and the glare of the lightning was incessant, while the +rain poured down in absolute torrents. Before them rose a huge ruin +covered with ivy and with the roof partly protecting the interior. It +was so large that they were able to lead their horses within its +protection and wait the cessation of the rain. + +Between the flashes the sky was intensely dark, but they were almost +incessant, and revealed the city of the dead in which they had found +refuge. It was an ancient Welsh town, and in the latter years of the +deadly struggle with the English, had been taken after a protracted +resistance. Tradition had not even preserved its name, and only stated +that every living soul had perished in the massacre when the outer +walls were at length stormed and the town given to fire and sword. The +victors, as was frequently the case, had avoided the spot, preferring +to build elsewhere, and, like Silchester or Anderida, it had fallen +into desolation such as befell mighty Babylon. + +And now the ignorant rustic peopled its buildings with the imaginary +forms of doleful creatures, and shunned the fatal precincts where once +family love and social affections had flourished; where hearts, long +mouldered to dust, had beaten with tender affection, where all the +little circumstances which make up life—the trivial round, the common +task—had gone on beneath the summer’s sun or winter’s storm, till the +great convulsion which ended the existence of the whole community. + +Dunstan noticed that his whole party crowded closely together, and when +the lightning illuminated each face saw that fear had left its visible +mark. + +The continuous roar of thunder, the hissing of the descending rain, the +wind which blew in angry gusts, prevented all conversation until nearly +an hour had elapsed, when the strife began to diminish. It was a sad +and mournful sight to gaze upon the remains of departed greatness when +thus illuminated by the electric flash, and easily might the fancy, +deceived by the transient glimpses of things, people the ruins with the +shades of their departed inhabitants. + +“Father,” said Alfred, at length, “who were they who lived here? Do you +know aught about them?” + +“The men whom our ancestors subdued—the Welsh, or British—an unhappy +race.” + +“Were they heathen?” + +“At one time, but they were converted by the missions from Rome and the +East, of which the earliest was that of St. Joseph of Arimathea to our +own Glastonbury; he may have preached to the very people who lived +here, nay, in this very basilica, which, I think, may have been +converted into a church.” + +It was indeed the ruin of a basilica wherein they stood, but no trace +survived to show whether Dunstan’s conjecture was correct. + +“It seems strange that God should have permitted them to fall before +the sword of our heathen ancestors.” + +“Their own historian Gildas, who lies buried at Glastonbury, explains +it. He tells us that such was the corruption of faith and of morals +towards the close of their brief day, that had not the Saxon sword +interposed; plague, pestilence, or famine, or some similar calamity, +must have done the fatal work. God grant that we, now that in turn we +have received the message of the Gospel, may be more faithful servants, +or similar ruin may, at no distant period, await the Englishman also, +as it did the Welshman.” + +He sighed deeply, and Alfred echoed the sigh in his heart; he read the +abbot’s thoughts. + +“Do you believe,” said he, after a pause, “that their spirits ever +revisit the earth?” + +“I know not; many wise men have thought it possible, and that they may +haunt the places where they sinned, ever bearing their condemnation +within them, even while they clothe themselves in semblance of the +mortal flesh they once wore.” + +The whole party shuddered, and Father Guthlac said, deprecatingly: + +“My father, let us not talk of this now. We are too weak to bear it, +and the place is so awful!” + +By this time the wind had made a huge rent in the black clouds +overhead, and the moon came suddenly in sight, sailing tranquilly in +the azure void above, and casting her beams on the ruins, as she had +once cast them on the beauteous city; its basilicas, palaces, and +temples yet standing. + +At this moment their guide came hastily to them. + +“We are in some danger, father. Horsemen, twelve of them, are galloping +along the Foss Way in spite of the storm.” + +Dunstan left the shelter, which was no longer needed, the rain having +ceased, and followed the guide to the summit of the huge mound which +marked the fall of some giant bastion of early days. From that position +they could see the Foss Way, now about half-a-mile distant in the +bright moonlight, and Dunstan’s eye at once caught twelve +figures—horsemen—sweeping down it like the wind, which brought the +sound of their passage faintly to the ear. + +“Wait,” he said, “and see whether they pass the bypath; in that case we +are safe.” + +The whole party was now on the mound, their persons carefully concealed +from the view of the horsemen, while they watched their passage with +intense anxiety. The enemy reached the bypath; eleven of them passed +over it, but the twelfth reined his horse suddenly, almost upon its +haunches, and pointed to the ground. He had evidently seen the tracks +of the fugitives upon the soft turf. + +The next moment they all turned their horses into the bypath. + +“Follow,” said the guide; and they all rushed eagerly down the mound +and mounted at once. + +“Follow me closely; I think I can save you from them; only lose not a +moment.” + +The guide led them by a wandering path amongst the ruins, where their +tracks would leave the least trace, until he passed through a gap in +the external fortifications on the opposite side. Then he rode rapidly +along a descending path in the woods, until the sound of rushing water +greeted their ears, and they arrived on the brink of a small river +which was swollen by the violent rain, and which dashed along an +irregular and stony bed with fearful impetuosity. + +There was but one mode of crossing it: a bridge constructed of planks +was thrown over, which one horseman might pass at a time. The whole +party rode over in safety, although the crazy old bridge bent terribly +beneath the weight of each rider. + +But when all were over, the guide motioned to Alfred and Oswy to remain +behind for one moment, while the monks proceeded. He threw himself from +his horse, and taking the axe which he had slung behind him, commenced +hacking away at the bridge. But although the bridge was old, yet it was +tough; and although Alfred, and Oswy who was armed with a small +battle-axe, assisted with all their might, the work seemed long. + +Before it was completed, they heard the voices of their pursuers +calling to each other amongst the ruins. They had evidently lost the +track, and were separating to find it. + +Crash went one huge plank into the raging torrent, then a second, and +but one beam remained, when a horseman emerged from the trees opposite, +and by the light of the moon Alfred recognised his brother. + +Desperate in the excitement of the chase, Elfric leapt from his horse, +and drawing his sword rushed upon the bridge. + +Alfred, who felt it tremble, cried: + +“Back, Elfric! Back if you value your life!” while at the same moment, +true to his duty, without raising his axe or any other attempt at +offence, he opposed his own body in passive resistance to Elfric’s +passage over the beam. + +Elfric knew the voice, and drew back in utter amazement. He had already +stepped from the half-severed beam, when he saw it bend, break, and +roll, with Alfred, who had advanced to the middle of the bridge, into +the torrent beneath, which swept both beam and man away with resistless +force. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +THE RETURN OF ALFRED. + + +The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn the fate of Alfred +of Æscendune, whom we left in so critical a position. + +The fall of the bridge was so sudden and unexpected, that he scarcely +knew where he was, till he found himself sucked rapidly down stream by +the raging waters, when he struck out like a man, and battled for dear +life. But the only result seemed to be that he was bruised and battered +against the rocks and stones, until, exhausted, he was on the point of +succumbing to his fate, as the current bore him into a calm deep pool, +where he sank helplessly, his strength gone. But the guide and his +companion Oswy had succeeded in reaching the spot, which was +inaccessible from the other side, and plunging at once into the waters, +the latter succeeded in bringing the dying youth to land. Dunstan and +the other members of the party were soon on the spot; the lay brother +was skilled in the art of restoring suspended animation, and they soon +had the happiness of beholding Alfred return to consciousness; he +raised his head, and gazed about him like one in a dream, not able to +realise his position. + +“Where am I? What have I been doing?” he exclaimed. + +“You are safe, my dear son, and in the hands of friends,” replied +Dunstan, “although you have had a narrow, narrow escape; we are secure +for the present from our foes.” + +They consulted together in low tones as to their future movements, and +the abbot inquired particularly of the guide concerning the fords and +bridges. + +“There is a ford only a mile or two away, but I expect they will find +they cannot cross it.” + +“Is there no place of refuge near? He is unable to sit his horse.” + +“There is a cottage close by, kept by a cowherd, who is a good and true +man.” + +“Then lead us to it at once,” replied Dunstan. + +Alfred had by this time recognised his position, and he implored +Dunstan not to endanger his own safety for his sake; but the abbot paid +no attention. They reached the cottage just as the day was dawning, and +the east was bright with rosy light. It was such a place as the great +king, after whom Alfred was named, had found refuge in when pressed by +the Danes. It was poor, but neat and clean beyond the usual degree; and +when the wants of their early visitors were known, and Dunstan was +recognised, the utmost zeal was displayed in his cause. + +All that could be done for Alfred was done at once, but he was +manifestly too shaken and bruised to be able to travel; and, giving him +his fatherly blessing, Dunstan was compelled by the guide to hurry on, +leaving him in the care of Oswy. + +They had not, however, great fear of their pursuers, for their own +horses were comparatively fresh after the rest in the ruined city, and +those of their foes would be necessarily fatigued, after the rapid ride +along the Foss Way, and their exertions to pass the stream. + +So it was not with great uneasiness, well mounted as they were, that, +gaining the road, they beheld their pursuers in the distance, who, on +their part, beholding their intended victims afar off, hastened to spur +their horses on. + +It was useless: the pursued had the advantage, and after the gallop of +a mile or two, it became evident they were in no especial danger, +although it must be remembered that a false step or slip, or any +accident, would have been fatal. + +“I should not mind racing them down the Foss to the Sea Town,” xxv said +the guide; “but if the abbot has no objection, I should prefer leaving +them to pursue the road, while we take a cross-country route, which I +have often travelled; it is a very good one.” + +“By all means,” said Dunstan, “and then we may slacken this furious +pace.” + +They were quite out of sight of their pursuers when, coming upon a +track of dry stony ground, they suddenly left the road, and crossing a +wild heath, put a copse between them and the enemy, who did not this +time discover for miles the absence of the footprints, for the soil was +very dry and hard, the storm not having passed that way, and the foe +were intent upon hard riding. + +So they gained a long start, and eventually reached a hill, from which +they obtained their first view of the sea. It was eventide, and the +western sun, sinking towards the promontories beyond the distant Exe, +reddened the waters with his glowing light. Dunstan and his brethren +thanked God. + +“We have come to the setting sun,” said they, “and at eventide have +seen light; let us thank Him Who hath preserved us.” + +But the guide, who knew what relentless pursuers were yet behind, would +allow them no rest. In another hour they reached a small fishing +village on the coast, where a solitary bark was kept. The owner was +just about to put out for an evening’s fishing, but at the earnest +request of his visitors, backed by much gold, he consented to take them +over to the opposite coast. + +“The weather promises to be very clear and fine,” he said; “and we may +sail across without any danger.” + +It was indeed a lovely night; they stepped on board, the anchor was +loosed, the sail set, and with the wind behind, they stood rapidly out +to sea. They were quite silent, each immersed in his own thoughts. At +last they heard the sound of horsemen galloping on the fast-receding +shore, and looking back, they saw twelve riders reach the beach, and +pause, looking wistfully out to sea. + +“Our soul is escaped, even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler; +the snare is broken, and we are delivered,” said Dunstan. + +“Our help standeth in the name of the Lord, Who hath made heaven and +earth,” replied Father Guthlac. + +Meanwhile, Alfred rapidly gained strength. Happily no bones were +broken, he was only sadly bruised. The next day he expressed his +earnest wish to return home, but his host would not permit him, saying +he should have to answer to Dunstan some day for his guest. + +The time passed monotonously enough that second day, yet not +unpleasantly: there were a thousand things to observe in the woods and +marshes around, full of animal life. + +Early in the morning, a sweet fresh morning, the cowherd drove his +cattle forth to graze, where he knew the pastures were sweetest, and +Alfred would willingly have gone, too, but they told him he must rest. +So he took his breakfast of hot milk and bread, with oat cakes baked on +the hearth, and waited patiently till the warmth of the day tempted him +out, under the care of Oswy, to watch the distant herd, to drink of the +clear spring or recline under some huge spreading beech, while the +breeze made sweet melodies in his ears, and lulled him pleasantly to +sleep. + +At midday they returned to the customary dinner, which was not of such +inferior quality as one would now expect to find in such a place, +contrasting strongly with the fare on the tables of the rich: then +there was far more equality in the food of rich and poor, and Alfred +had no cause to complain of the cowherd’s table. + +Then he sauntered forth again with Oswy, and strove to amuse himself +with the book of nature; till just at eventide, as he was longing +earnestly that he could know the fate of his fugitive friends, they +heard the sound of a horse at full trot, and soon the guide appeared in +sight. + +Alfred rose up eagerly. + +“Are they safe?” he cried. + +“Yes, quite safe; they had got a mile out to sea when their pursuers +got to the beach; I saw it all, hidden in a woody hill above.” + +“Did they try to follow?” + +“They could not, there was no boat: I never saw men in such a rage.” + +Alfred felt as if a weight were removed from his heart, then he looked +up in the face of the guide. + +“Will you guide us home?” he said. + +“Yes,” was the reply; “the holy abbot particularly desired me to return +to his son Alfred, and to take care of him on his journey home; and if +you will have me as your guide, I will warrant you a safe journey to +Æscendune, for we are not worth following.” + +“Then let us start tomorrow morning,” said Alfred, longing to be once +more in his old father’s presence, and to cheer his mother’s heart. + +They returned together to the cowherd’s cottage, and slept peacefully +that night. Early in the morning they retook the path to the Foss Way, +crossing the stream at a ford higher up. Their horses being well rested +and full of spirit for the journey, they passed Glastonbury, still +empty and desolate, in the middle of the day, and retraced by easy +stages the whole of Alfred’s previous route from home. + +After a week’s easy travelling, by the blessing of Providence, they +reached the neighbourhood of Æscendune: it had never looked so lovely, +so home-like to Alfred as then. He felt as if every spot were full of +joy, and as he was recognised by person after person, by his favourite +dogs as they bounded forth, and finally fell into his mother’s arms at +the gate of the hall, he experienced feelings which in these days, when +we are all so familiar with the thought of travel, can seldom be +realised. + +Then he had to recount his adventures that night, after supper, to an +admiring audience, who listened enraptured to his account of the +holiness of Dunstan and the cruelty of his foes. But it will easily be +imagined that he made no allusion to his rencontre with Elfric; and +Oswy, instructed by his young master, was equally silent. + +He had quite made up his mind to persevere in this course: it could do +no good to tell father or mother how grievously Elfric had fallen, and +how nearly he had been the involuntary instrument of his brother’s +death. + +“God can change his heart,” said Alfred to himself, “and bring him home +like the prodigal son about whom Father Cuthbert talks so often.” + +So he prayed earnestly every day for his brother, and many a +supplication on his behalf arose from the altar of St. Wilfred. Time +will show whether they were lost. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +EDWY AND ELGIVA. + + +Edwy, King of England, and Elgiva, his queen, gave a great feast at +their royal palace in London, a month after the events recorded in our +last chapter; and a numerous company had assembled to do honour to +their hospitality. Yet the company was very different from that which +had assembled round the same hospitable board in the days of King +Edred. First, the Churchmen were conspicuous by their absence; and +secondly, all the old grey-headed counsellors, who had been the pride +and ornament of the reigns of Edmund and Edred, were not seen; for, +after the rumour of their marriage had reached Odo, he had pronounced +the sentence of the lesser excommunication upon them, severing them +from the sacraments; and this was felt by the old counsellors of Edred +to be a most serious stigma, yet one which they could not call +undeserved: hence they deserted the court. + +In their place were the young and giddy, the headstrong sons of wiser +fathers, the spendthrifts, the young fops of the period, those who went +in for a fast life, to use a modern phrase—who spent the night, if not +the day, over the wine cup, and consumed their substance in riotous +living—such were they who gathered around Edwy the Fair and the yet +fairer Elgiva. + +And truly king and queen more beautiful in person had never sat upon a +throne; and it was difficult to look upon them and feel aught but +admiration, save when one knew all their history, and then pity and +sorrow might supply the place of admiration, at least with the sober +minded. + +Fish, flesh, and fowl; nought was wanting. The earth the air, and the +water, all yielded their tribute; for was it not the anniversary of the +marriage—the uncanonical marriage, alas!—of the royal pair, if marriage +it had truly been? + +Eels of enormous size, fine as the Roman lamprey, pike roasted with +puddings in their bellies, tench and carp stewed; while the sea yielded +its skate, its sturgeon, and its porpoise, which the skill of the cook +had so curiously dressed with fragrant spices that it won him great +renown. The very smell, said a young gourmand, was a dinner in itself; +and the wild buck supplied its haunch, and the boar its head, while +fowl of all kinds were handed round on spits. + +The drinking was of like sumptuous character, and Rhenish wine +contended with the wines of sunny France for precedence, as they were +passed round in silver cups and gold-mounted horns; for glass was +seldom, if ever, used for such purposes then. + +The floor was strewed with the sweetest summer flowers, and exhaled an +odour balmy as the breath of eastern climes, where the breeze plays +with the orange blossoms. The tapestry was beautifully woven by foreign +artists, and represented the loves of the gods; while there was nothing +in keeping with the olden style throughout the whole apartment. + +But one seat was vacant near the king’s throne, and every now and then +Edwy seemed to cast a wistful eye upon it, as if he would fain see its +ordinary occupant there. + +The gleemen rose and sang, the harpers harped, but something was +wanting; they brought tears to the eyes of the fair queen by their +plaintive songs of hapless lovers, which had superseded alike the war +songs of Athelstane and the monkish odes of Edred. + +“Where is Elfric? He promised to be back by our wedding day; why does +he delay, my Edwy?” asked Elgiva. + +“It is little less than treason to the queen of youth and beauty to be +thus absent, my Elgiva, but remember he has been unwell, and Redwald +told me that for prudential reasons they delayed his return to court.” + +“And your brother Edgar—” + +“Is somewhere in Mercia: the churlish boy has declined our invitation +to honour our feast with his presence. We do not want his serious face +at the board. I am sure he would preach on the duty of fasting.” + +“He has but seldom been our visitor.” + +“No; he is afraid, perhaps, to trust his cold heart within the magic of +my Elgiva’s sunshine, lest the ice should be melted.” + +These had been asides, while all the company were listening to the +gleeman; but now Edwy threw himself heart and soul into the current +conversation, and all went merry as a marriage peal, until the +ceremoniarius—for Edwy loved formality in some things—threw open the +folding doors and announced the captain of the hus-carles, and Elfric +of Æscendune. + +The whole company rose to receive them, and Elfric in particular +received a warm welcome; but it was at once seen that there was a +marked constraint upon him: his eye was restless and uneasy, and he +seemed like one carrying a load at his breast. + +In truth, since that fatal night when, as he believed, he had witnessed +the death of his brother, he had striven in vain to drown care and to +banish remorse: the thought of his aged father deprived of both his +sons—the one by death, the other by desertion—would force its way +unbidden to his mind. Still, he had determined to throw aside reserve +in honour of the occasion, and he made heroic efforts to appear happy +and gay. + +Redwald was at his ease, as usual in all company, and seemed to cause +prodigious laughter as he told his adventures to the younger folk at +the bottom of the board. Dark and malign as his demeanour usually was, +yet he could affect a light and airy character at times. + +“Redwald, my trusty champion,” said Edwy, “this is the first campaign +thou hast ever returned from unsuccessful. Tell us, how did Dunstan +outwit you?” + +“By the aid of the devil, my liege.” + +“Doubtless; but we had all hoped for a different result, and that thou +wouldst either have left the traitor no eyes in his head, or no head on +his shoulders. + +“Said I not rightly, my Elgiva?” + +The eyes of the fair enemy of the abbot flashed fire, and she exchanged +some very significant words with her mother, Ethelgiva, who occupied +the next chair. + +“Come, my fairy-given xxvi one, you must not be too hard on Redwald, +who doubtless did his best— + +“How was it, Elfric?” + +“The devil was certainly on Dunstan’s side: he and no other could have +betrayed our coming, for betrayed it was.” + +“How long had he left when you reached the abbey?” + +“Only an hour or two; but there was a sound of mocking laughter, +doubtless caused by his incantations, which kept us for some hours +forcing doors and the like.” + +“And you could discover no cause?” + +“None whatever; however, we found he had taken the Foss Way for the +coast, and followed, and nearly caught him.” + +“What prevented you?” + +Elfric turned pale as if with great mental emotion, and tried to +proceed in vain. + +“You are not well,” said Elgiva, anxiously. + +“Not quite,” he said; and then, overcoming his feelings by a vigorous +effort, while no one save Redwald suspected the true cause, he +continued: + +“There had been a great storm, and they had broken down the only bridge +which existed for miles over a swollen river: we lost hours.” + +“And yet, as your messengers told us, you arrived in time to see him +leave the coast.” + +“The vessel which bore him was still distinctly in sight when we stood +on the sands.” + +“But had you no means of following?” + +“None: it was a lonely fishing village with a small harbour, and his +bark was a mere fishing smack, the only one of the place.” + +“I trust the sea has swallowed him,” said the king; “but there is a +rumour today that he is playing the saint in Flanders with great pomp. +Well, only let him show his face in England again, and the devil may +pinch my nose with his tongs if I leave him a head on his shoulders: he +shall be a sacrifice to your outraged dignity, my Elgiva.” + +“And yours, my Edwy.” + +Husband and wife were quite agreed on this subject: they had never +forgiven Dunstan in the least degree, and, identifying him with +religion, had well-nigh abjured it altogether. + +The ordinary dishes being now removed, the guests all partook lavishly +of wine, and, their heads already heated, yielded entirely to the +excitement of the moment. Toast after toast was drunk to the king: he +was compared to Apollo for his beauty, and Elgiva to Venus, while the +old northern mythology was ransacked also for appellations in honour of +the youthful pair. + +Adjoining, in the outer hall, the higher domestics had their music and +dancing, and the king and queen came to honour the entertainment by +their presence. So the happy hours wore away, and at length the company +were on the eve of departure, for fatigue was making itself felt, when +an ominous blowing of a horn was heard at the outer gate. + +A pause, during which the company looked at each other, so strangely +had the sound struck them, and yet they knew not why, save that it was +an unlikely hour for such an occurrence. + +There was one only who knew what the message would probably be +—Redwald; and he had kept the secret purposely from the king. + +The doors opened, and an usher brought in a messenger who had only been +allowed a moment to change a dusty dress, ere he broke into the +presence of royalty. + +“Speak,” said Edwy, as the messenger bowed before him, and kissed his +hand. + +“My lord and king—” and the messenger glanced at Elgiva. + +“Let him speak, Edwy, my lord. Are we not one? What you can bear, your +wife must bear also.” + +Thus adjured, the messenger spoke his news. + +“Mercia has revolted, and proclaimed Edgar king.” + +“The cause alleged?” + +“I know not, my lord.” + +“I can tell you,” said Redwald; “the banishment of the holy fox, +Dunstan, and very shame prevents my adding that—” + +“No more,” said Edwy; “I can guess the rest.” + +He wished to spare Elgiva. + +He walked up and down the hall several times. His festive air had gone. + +“And on my wedding day, too,” he said. “Redwald, you knew this.” + +“Yes, my lord, but I wished to spare my king upon his wedding day, +still I have not spared myself. The necessary steps are taken, your +immediate vassals are summoned, and my own men are ready to march; we +will sweep these rebels off the field.” + +“Elfric,” said the king, “you must be my right hand in the field: you +will be ready to invade your native Mercia tomorrow. Think you your own +friends are firm?” + +“My father, although he has disowned me, would never disown his lawful +king; the duty and love he bore to your murdered father would forbid.” + +“Well, Redwald, have you known this many hours?” + +“I heard it at the frontier town of Mercia, Reading, last night, and +took all my measures immediately.” + +“Then, can we really depend upon Wessex?” + +“I treat so indeed, my lord, else we should be in a very bad way +indeed.” + +“Well, we must rest now. Elgiva, darling, this is a cold termination to +our first anniversary, but your husband’s love shall ever protect you +until he be cold in death. + +“Goodnight, Elfric, be ready for the morrow. + +“Goodnight, Redwald, trustiest warrior who ever served grateful lord. + +“Goodnight, gentlemen all.” + +And thus the royal party broke up, and thus ended the first anniversary +of the ill-starred union. + +On the morrow all was haste and confusion in the royal palace. Elgiva +departed early for Winchester, which, being farther removed from the +frontier, was safer than London from any sudden excursion on the part +of the Mercians, and the city was also devoted to the royal family. The +citizens of London were directed to provide for the defence of their +city, while the royal guards, attended by the immediate vassals of the +crown, prepared to march into the heart of the rebellious district. + +It is too often supposed that the feudal system was of Norman +importation, whereas its very foundation—the act of homage, or of +“becoming your man,”—was brought by the Saxons and Angles from their +German home. The lord was the protector of the vassal, but the vassal +was bound to attend his feudal superior both in peace and war. + +So imperative was this obligation, that a vassal who abandoned his lord +in the field of battle was liable to the death of a traitor. + +Therefore Edwy soon found himself at the head of a compact body of ten +thousand men, all bound to stand by him to death. But there was one +very disheartening circumstance, which attracted notice. No volunteers +joined the little army, although a royal proclamation had promised +lands from the territories of the rebels to each successful combatant +in the cause of Edwy and Elgiva. + +The fear of the Church hung on all, the conviction that the law of both +Church and State had been broken by the young king; the universal +belief in the sanctity of Dunstan, and in the true patriotism of Odo +whom they called “the good;” the thoughtless misgovernment since the +wiser counsellors had dispersed—all these things weakened the hearts of +the followers of Edwy. + +There was therefore but little enthusiasm when the inhabitants saw the +soldiers of the king march out by the Watling Street, and the soldiers +themselves looked dispirited. + +It was early dawn on the second day from the feast that the departure +took place. Cynewulf, a valiant Earl of Wessex, was the real commander; +nominally, Edwy commanded in person, and Elfric rode out of London by +his side. Redwald’s rank would not have entitled him to the chief +command. + +Passing through the environs of the city, they gained the open country, +and marched steadily along the causeway the Romans had so firmly laid, +until they reached Verulam or St. Alban’s, where they passed the night. +It excited great discontent amongst the inhabitants that Edwy did not +visit the shrine of the saint, the glory of their town; and his +departure again took place amidst gloomy silence. + +They were now about to cross the frontier and enter Mercia, then in +many respects an independent state; governed, it might be, by the same +monarch and Witan as Wessex, even as Scotland and England are governed +by the same sovereign and Parliament, yet retaining like them its own +peculiar code of laws in many respects. + +And now Mercia had sternly refused to be governed any longer by the +“enemy of the Church,” and chose the Etheling, Edgar, to be its king. + +Acting with the sanction of Odo, whom he deeply revered, the young +Edgar, then only in his fifteenth year, accepted the offer, and the +whole force of Mercia was gathering to support him when Edwy crossed +the border. + +It must not be supposed that either Cynewulf or Redwald expected to +conquer the Mercians with ten thousand men. No, their design was +simpler: they had learned where Edgar was residing, and that the forces +around him were small. One bold stroke might secure his person, and +then Edwy might make his own terms. This was the secret of the advice +they both gave to the young king. + +Redwald had, as we shall see, deep designs of his own to serve also, +but they had been locked for years in his own breast, and no servant +could seem more trusty and faithful than he did, or act with more +energy in his master’s cause. + +The forces of Edwy, as we have related, left St. Alban’s on the second +morning, and travelled, horse and foot, very rapidly all that day. + +Crossing the Icknield Street at Dunstable, where the remains of a huge +temple, once sacred to Diana, were visible, they entered Mercia, and +soon reached Towcester, a town which had been walled round by King +Athelstane; here they found no force prepared to receive them, and the +town opened its gates at once. + +They tarried here for a day, while they sent scouts and spies in all +directions, many of whom never returned. The troops were quartered +freely upon the inhabitants, who were evidently very hostile; and, in +return, the soldiers of Edwy insulted the women and bullied the men. +Every hour some quarrel arose, and generally ended in bloodshed; the +citizens being commonly the victims. + +Late at night messengers arrived at the royal quarters, bringing +information that Edgar was at Alcester, the ancient Alauna, beyond the +Avon, and that Osric, the great Earl of Mercia, was with him collecting +troops. + +A council was held at once, and it was decided to leave the Watling +Street and to march for the Avon by cross-country routes. They rested +that night amidst the ruins of the ancient Brinavæ, and here another +council was held, to deliberate on their future movements, and it was +decided to march westward at once, for tidings came that Edgar’s forces +were rapidly increasing, and prudence suggested prompt measures. Edwy +was becoming very anxious. + +The route for the next day was then made out and, with beating heart, +Elfric learned that they purposed crossing the river not far from +Æscendune. + +“Elfric, my friend,” said Edwy, “there will be a chance for you to +visit Æscendune, and to obtain the old man’s forgiveness.” + +He said this with a slight sneer. + +“I cannot go there; I would die first.” + +Edwy started at the tone of deep feeling with which the words were +said; he knew nothing of the rencontre of Elfric with his brother. + +“Still I think that I must spend this coming night there, and I will +try and act the Christian for the occasion: perhaps I may do you a good +turn, while I renew my acquaintance with your people.” + +In his very heart Elfric wished that Edwy might never arrive there, yet +he knew not what to say. + +“Well,” said the prince, observing his hesitation, “you may go on with +Cynewulf and the main body of the army, which will cross the Avon +higher up, and I will make excuse that your duties detain you. I must +go—I have special reasons, I wish at least to secure the fidelity of +the few—and Redwald will accompany me; we join the army on the morrow, +without losing any time by the move.” + +And so the matter was settled. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. +THE ROYAL GUEST. + + +It was the morning of the first of August, and the sun, dispersing the +early mists, gave promise of a bright summer day. + +The inhabitants of Æscendune, lord and vassals alike, were astir from +the early daybreak; for that day the harvest was to be commenced, and +the crops were heavier than had been known for many a year. A good +harvest meant peace and prosperity in those times, a bad harvest +famine, and perhaps rebellion; for if the home crop failed, commerce +did not, as now, supply the deficiency. + +So it was with joy and gladness that the people went forth that day to +reap with their sharp sickles in their hands, while the freshness of +the early morn filled each heart insensibly with energy and life. The +corn fell on the upland before their sharp strokes, while behind each +reaper the younger labourers gathered it into sheaves. + +Old Ella stood in their midst looking on the familiar scene, while his +pious heart returned many a fervent thanksgiving to the Giver of all +good. Under the shade of some spreading beeches, which bordered the +field, the domestics from the manor house were spreading the banquet +for the reapers—mead and ale, corn puddings prepared in various modes +with milk, huge joints of cold roast beef—for the hour when toil should +have sharpened the appetite of the whole party. + +By the side of his father stood young Alfred administering with filial +affection to all his wants, as if he felt constrained to supply a +double service in his own person now that Elfric was no more, or, at +least, dead to home ties. + +Thicker and thicker fell the wheat, and they thought surely such heavy +sheaves had never fallen to their lot before. + +At last the blowing of a horn summoned all the reapers to their dinner, +and when Father Cuthbert had said grace, the whole party fell to—the +thane at the head of them; and when the desire of eating and drinking +was appeased, the labourers lay on the grass, in the cool shade, to +pass away the hour of noontide heat, before resuming their toil. + +“Father,” said Alfred, “a horseman is coming.” + +“My old eyes are somewhat dim; I do not see any one approaching.” + +“Nor I, as yet, but I hear him; listen, he is just crossing the brook; +I can hear the splashing.” + +“Some royal messenger, perhaps, from Edgar or from Edwy, my son. I fear +such may be the case; yet I wish I could be left in peace, afar from +the strife which must convulse the land, if the ill-advised brothers +cannot agree to reign—the one over Mercia, the other over Wessex.” + +“We have repeatedly said that we should be quite neutral, father.” + +“And yet, my son, we offend both parties, and, I fear me, we shall be +forced to defend ourselves in the end. But God is our refuge and +strength, a very present help in trouble. And now that I am old I can +lean more and more upon Him. He will be a father to you, my Alfred, +when these hoary hairs are hidden in the grave.” + +It was seldom that the old thane expressed his devotion in this strain; +it seemed to Alfred as if there were a foreboding of coming trial in +it, and he felt as when a cloud veils the face of the sun in early +spring. + +The messenger now came in sight—a tall, resolute looking man, well +armed and well mounted, and evidently bound for the hall. But when he +saw the party beneath the trees he bent his course aside, and saluting +the thane with all deference, inquired if he spoke to Ella of +Æscendune. + +“I am he,” replied Ella. “I trust you are not the bearer of other than +good tidings; but will you first refresh yourself, since it is ill +talking between the full and the fasting?” + +“With gladness do I accept your bounty; for I have ridden since early +dawn, and rider and horse are both exhausted.” + +“There is corn for your horse, and food and wine for his master. + +“Uhred, take charge of the steed. + +“Alfred, my son, place that best joint of beef before the stranger, and +those wheaten cakes. + +“I drink to you, fair sir.” + +The messenger seemed in no hurry to open his tale until he had eaten +and drunk, and it was with the greatest patience that the thane, who +was one of nature’s gentlemen, awaited his leisure. + +At length the messenger looked up, and pushed his wooden platter aside. + +“I have come to be the bearer of good tidings to you, noble thane. +Edwy, your king, with a small troop of horse, his royal retinue, +proposes honouring your roof with his presence, and asks bed and board +of his loyal subject, Ella of Æscendune.” + +“The king’s will is my law; and since it pleases the son of my late +beloved master, King Edmund, to visit me, he shall find no lack of +hospitality. But may I ask what sudden event has brought him into the +heart of our country?” + +“He comes to chastise rebellion. A large force of several thousand men +crosses the river a few miles higher this evening, and, not to +incommode you with numbers, King Edwy comes apart from his followers.” + +Although he foresaw grave inconvenience, and even danger, in the +proposal, yet Ella could not appear churlish and inhospitable; +therefore, learning from the messenger that the king might be expected +before sunset, he returned home to make such preparations as should +suggest themselves for the entertainment of his royal master, for so he +still would have styled Edwy, deeply as he felt he had been wronged by +him. + +“Father,” said Alfred, as he walked homeward by his side, “think you +Elfric will be in his train? I wish he may be.” + +“Alas, my son! I fear I shall never see poor Elfric again. My mind +always seems to misgive me when I think of him; and I have so strong a +foreboding that he has received my last blessing, that I cannot +overcome it. No, Alfred, I fear we shall not see Elfric tonight.” + +No more was said upon the subject; they reached the hall in good time, +and startled the lady Edith by their tidings. + +Instantly all was in preparation: the best casks of wine were broached, +fowls and wild birds alike had cause to lament that their lives were +shortened, chamberlain and cook were busy, clean rushes were brought in +to adorn the floor of the hall, sweet flowers and aromatic grass for +that of the royal bedchamber; and it was not till a flourish of +trumpets announced the approach of the cavalcade that all was ready, +and the maidens and men servants, arrayed in their best holiday attire, +stood grouped without the gate to receive their king. + +At last the glitter of the departing ray upon pointed lances announced +the approach, and soon the whole party might be seen—a hundred horse +accompanying the king’s person, and one or two nobles of distinction, +including Redwald, riding by his side. + +When the train first reached the spot from which the castle was +visible, a strange thing occurred. The king’s eyes were fixed upon +Redwald, and, to the royal astonishment, the whole frame of that worthy +seemed shaken by a sudden emotion. His countenance became pale, his +lips were compressed, and his eyes seemed to dart fire. + +“What is the matter, my Redwald?” asked the king. + +“Oh, nothing, my lord!” said he, resuming his wonted aspect with +difficulty, but at last becoming calm as a lake when the wind has died +away. “Only a sudden spasm.” + +“I hope you are not ill?” + +“No, my lord; you need not really feel anxious concerning me. + +“The hall of Æscendune appears a pleasant place for a summer +residence,” he added. + +“I have been there before,” said the king. “Spent some weeks there. +Yes; I thought it a great change for the better then, after the musty +odour of sanctity which reigned in the palace of my uncle the monk, but +all things go by comparison. I might not relish a month there now.” + +“Yet it looks like a place formidable for its kind, and it might not be +amiss to persuade the worthy old thane to receive a garrison there, so +that if the worst came to the worst we might have a place of refuge, +otherwise the Mercians would soon have possession of it.” + +“Ella is one of themselves.” + +“But the rebel Edgar may not forgive him for entertaining us!” + +“He can hardly help himself. Still, the smoke of those fires, which, I +trust, betokens good cheer; and the peaceful aspect of that party +coming out to meet us, in the midst of whom I recognise old Ella and +his son Alfred, Elwy’s brother, does not look much like compulsion.” + +“Making the best of a bad bargain, perhaps.” + +“I prefer to think otherwise.” + +At this moment the two parties met, and Edwy at once dismounted from +his courser with that bewitching and kingly grace which became “Edwy +the Fair.” He advanced gracefully to the old thane, and, presenting the +customary mark of homage, embraced him as a son might embrace a +father—“For,” said he, “Elfric has taught me to revere you as a father +even if Æscendune had not taught me before then. I robbed you of your +son, now I offer you two sons, Elfric and myself.” + +The tears stood in the old man’s eyes at this reception, and the +mention of his dear prodigal son. + +“He is well, I hope?” said he, striving to speak with such sternness +and dignity as sell-respect taught in opposition to natural feeling. + +“Well and happy; and I trust you will see him in a day or two, when we +shall have chastised our rebels; justice, mingled with mercy, must +first have its day.” + +“Where is he now?” + +“With the main body of the army; in fact, he is my right hand. It is my +fault, not his, that he is not here now; but we could not both leave, +and he preferred that I should come and proffer my filial duty first, +and perhaps that I should assure you of his love and duty, however +appearances may have seemed against him.” + +Then the eye of Edwy caught Alfred. It must be remembered that Elfric +had kept the secret of his brother’s supposed death, even from the +king. + +“And of Alfred, too, I have ever been reminded by his brother; your +name has seldom been long absent from our conversation.” + +Alfred reddened. + +“I trust now,” he continued, “that I may profitably renew an +acquaintance suspended for three years. I am but young, only in my +eighteenth year, and I have no father; let me find one in the wisest of +the Mercians.” + +So bewitching was the grace of the fair speaker that he seemed to carry +all before him. Ella began to think he must have misjudged the king. +Alfred alone, who knew much more of the relations between the king and +the Church than his father, still suspended his belief in these most +gracious words. + +Leaning upon the still powerful arm of Ella, his young agile form +contrasting strongly with the powerful build of the old thane —powerful +even in decay—they came in front of the hall, where the serfs and +vassals all received them with joyful acclamations, and amidst the +general homage the king entered the hall. + +There he reverentially saluted the lady Edith. + +“The mother of my friend, my brother, Elfric, is my mother also,” said +he. + +Then he was conducted to his chamber, where the bath was provided for +him, and unguents for anointing himself, after which, accepting the +loan of a change of clothing more suitable than his travelling apparel, +he received the visit of Ella, who came to conduct him to the banquet. + +All this while his followers had been received according to their +several degrees; and a board was spread, of necessity, in a barn, for +the due feasting of the soldiers of Edwy and the vassals of Æscendune; +while the officers and the chief tenants of the family met at the royal +table in the great hall once before introduced to our readers. + +It boots not to repeat an oft-told tale, to describe the banquet in all +its prodigal luxury, to tell how light the casks in the cellars of +Æscendune seemed afterwards, how empty the larder; suffice it to say +that in due course the banquet was ended, the toasts were drunk, and, +with an occasional interlude in the gleeman’s song and the harper’s +wild music, the conversation was at its height. Wine and wassail +unloosed men’s tongues. + +Redwald sat near the king, who had introduced him to Ella as a dear +friend both to him and his son—“a very Mentor,” he said, “who, since +the unhappy quarrel into which my counsellors forced me —yes, forced +me—with Dunstan, has done more to keep Elfric and me straight in our +morals than at one time I should have thought possible for any man to +do. + +“Redwald, you need not blush; it is true, and your king is proud to own +it.” + +Redwald was not exactly blushing; he had spent the interval before the +banquet in looking eagerly and wistfully all round the house, and now +his countenance had a cold composure, which made it seem as if he had +never known emotion; still he answered fittingly to the king’s humour: + +“Alack, my lord, such credit is due only to the blessed saints, +especially St. Wilfred, whom you first learned to love at Æscendune, as +you have often told me.” + +“Yes,” said Edwy; “you remember, Ella, how I used to steal away even +from the chase, and visit his chapel at the priory which your worthy +father founded. Truly, I mused upon the saint so much that I marvel he +appeared not to me; I think he did once.” + +“Indeed!” exclaimed his auditors. + +“Yes; I had been musing upon my condition as a poor orphan boy, +deprived of my brave father—he was your friend, Ella!—when methought a +figure in the dress of a very ancient bishop, stood beside me, yet +immaterial as the breeze of evening. ‘Thy prayer is heard’ said he to +me; ‘thou hast brought many gifts to St. Wilfred; he shall send thee +one, even a friend.’ It was fulfilled in Elfric.” + +“Truly, it was marvellous,” said Father Cuthbert, who listened with +open mouth. “I doubt not it was our sainted patron.” + +Alfred said nothing; his recollections of Edwy’s days at Æscendune did +not embrace many hours in the chapel of St. Wilfred. + +The great wonderment of Ella may be conceived: he had always mourned +over Edwy as a headstrong youth, dead to religion, and now he was +called upon to contemplate him in so different a light. The reader may +wonder at his credulity, but if he had listened to the sweet voice of +the beautiful king, had gazed into that innocent-looking face—those +eyes which always seemed to meet the gaze, and never lowered themselves +or betrayed their owner—he would, perhaps, have been deceived too; yet +Edwy was overdoing it, and a look from Redwald warned him of the fact. +He took the other line. + +“Alas!” he said, “I have been very very unworthy of St. Wilfred’s fond +interest in me, and may have done very rash things; but some day the +saint may rejoice in me again, and then he shall not find in me a +rebellious son.” + +Further than this he was not disposed to go, for in truth he felt +himself sickened by his very success in deceit, although half disposed +to be proud of it at the same time. But Redwald had taken up the +conversation. + +“These halls of yours seem old, venerable thane; has your family long +dwelt under this hospitable roof?” + +“My remote ancestor fought by the side of Cynric in the victories which +led to the foundation of Mercia.” + +“Ah! many a sad yet glorious tale and legend for the gleeman’s harp, +doubtless, adorns your annals.” + +“Not many; we have our traditions.” + +“For instance, is there one connected with the foundation of the priory +hard by?” + +“It is of recent date, my father built it.” + +“Strange, for generally these old places are reared up by repentant +sinners, mourning over the sins they have committed, or the day of +grace they have cast away; is there no tale attached to your +foundation?” + +“Alas! there is; but it is one whose stain is all too recent, one we +cannot recount, or suffer gleeman’s harp to set to music, lest we +harrow the yet bleeding wound.” + +Redwald could not ask more; the answer was too plain and distinct, and +so he was forced to repress his curiosity. + +The conversation then became desultory and, finally, when the gleemen +began the well known _piece de resistance_, the battle of Brunanburgh, +Edwy yawned and Redwald looked sleepy, while the old thane actually +slept in his huge armchair, and was awakened only by the cessation of +the music and singing. + +Even in the presence of royalty itself Ella did not suffer the company +to disperse before the chaplain had said the customary compline +service, after which the guard was doubled at the door, and soon the +whole household was buried in sweet and peaceful sleep. + +Yet, although they knew it not, they nourished the deadliest foe of +their race in the bosom of the family. There was one at least who could +not sleep that night who now paced his narrow chamber, now looked forth +at the meadows, woods, and hills, sleeping in the summer twilight; now, +unchecked, burst into the wildest excitement, and paced his chamber as +a wild beast might pace the floor of his cage; now calmed down into a +sarcastic smile. + +“Yes!” he said in soliloquy, “and here I am at last; here in the halls +which should have been his and mine, and shall be mine yet; here! and +they know it not; here! and the reward of years of patient endurance is +at hand; here! yes, here, in the halls of Æscendune—dreamed of, sighed +after, prayed for at the shrine of such gods as promise vengeance; +here, by Woden and Thor; here by Satan’s help, if there be a +Satan!—here! here! here!” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. +NAKED THOUGH LOCKED IN STEEL. + + +Early in the morning the whole household was astir, and the breakfast +alone preceded the preparations for the departure of Edwy and his +retinue. Redwald did not appear, and they became uneasy at his +prolonged absence, until, sending to his room, they found him suffering +from sudden, but severe illness; which, as the leech shortly decided, +would absolutely prevent his travelling that day. + +It was evident that Edwy was annoyed by this, but it was not until +after a long conference with Redwald that he took Ella aside, and +pointing out to him the exposed position of the hall, besought his +permission to leave a garrison of fifty men under the command of this +trusty officer, which would ensure their safety, in case of any sudden +attack on the part of Edgar’s troops. + +“I can hardly feel that I need such protection, my royal master,” +replied Ella; “I dwell among my own people, and am perhaps safer when +quite unprotected.” + +“In that case, may I press my own poor claims?” replied the king. “In +case of the worst, I should have Æscendune to fall back upon, a retreat +secured by chosen men behind me, where one might halt and turn to bay; +again, Redwald’s sudden illness necessitates my leaving him to your +hospitality.” + +Thus pressed on every side, Ella felt he could but yield to a request +which the speaker had not only the power but the right, as his feudal +superior, to enforce; for Ella was not prepared to throw off his +allegiance, as most of his neighbours had done, and to make common +cause with Edgar. Again, the conversation of the previous night had +given him more confidence in Edwy, and more hope of seeing Elfric +again, like the returning prodigal, than he had previously had. + +Edwy saw this, and continued: + +“And it is but a few days hence, ere I propose to return with +Elfric—whom I could indeed put in command of such forces as are +necessary to secure you against our mutual foes, when I return +southward. Redwald and his troops will hold the place in trust for +Elfric, till he arrives.” + +The last lingering feeling of reluctance was now forcibly banished, and +Ella consented to receive Redwald as his guest, with a picked troop of +fifty men. + +“They shall be the best behaved warriors you have ever seen, my own +hus-carles—men who go to mass every morning, and shrift every week,” +added the deceitful prince; “at least,” he added, as he saw the look of +incredulity Ella could not suppress, “some of them do, I can’t say how +many.” + +In the course of an hour from this conversation, the royal party took +its departure, reduced to half its numbers. + +Edwy left amidst the regret of all, so amiable had been his manners, so +winning his ways. + +“I take a son’s liberty,” said he, as he saluted the venerable cheek of +the lady Edith; “but I will bring your other son back with me in a few +days.” + +The road leading over the hill and through the forest had swallowed up +the retreating force, when Ella personally superintended the +distribution of quarters to the guard of Redwald, many of whom +afterwards volunteered to follow him to the harvest field, and +displayed uncommon alacrity in carrying the wheat safely to its +granaries, saying the rebels should never have the reaping thereof. + +There was, however, a kind of gloom over the whole party through that +day. The thought that deadly strife impended close at hand weighed upon +the spirits of Ella, but they brightened again at the renewed hope of +meeting his prodigal, and he now hoped repentant, son in peace. + +Meanwhile, very different scenes were on the point of being enacted +only twice ten miles from the spot. + +The main body of the army left its quarters on the right bank of the +Avon, at the same hour in which Edwy left Æscendune to join them on +their march and they proceeded in safety all through the morning. At +midday they lay down to feed and to rest, and while thus resigning +themselves to repose, with the guards posted carefully around, the +sound of cavalry was heard in the distance, and shortly the royal party +appeared. Elfric was alert to receive them, but could not conceal his +surprise when he saw their diminished numbers, and perceived the +absence of Redwald. + +Edwy saw his look of embarrassment, and hastened to reply to the +question it conveyed. + +“They are left at Æscendune, fifty under the command of Redwald, to +fortify the house until we return. You must go home this time, and you +need not fear, for I have been a very saint at Æscendune, and they are +expecting Dunstan will speedily return and canonise me. Elfric, I have +used my sanctity for your advantage, since I have represented you as +sharing it at least in some degree.” + +“I fear me, my father is too wise to be so easily deceived.” + +“Nothing of the kind; he really seemed to believe in it; at all events, +I have promised you shall return with me.” + +“Did they really seem to wish to see me?” + +“They did really, especially your brother Alfred.” + +Elfric started as if an arrow had struck him. + +“Alfred. Alfred!” he said. + +“Yes, why not Alfred?” + +“And you saw him alive and well?” + +“To be sure, why not? Did you think he was dead.” + +Elfric became confused, and muttered some incoherent answer, but he +rejoiced in his very heart; he felt as if a mountain were removed from +him, and a sweet longing for home, such as he had not felt since a +certain Good Friday, sprang up in his mind, so strongly that he would +have gone then and there, had circumstances permitted. + +Alas, poor boy! his wish was not thus easily to be gratified: he had +sinned very deeply—his penance had yet to be accomplished; well has the +poet written: + +“_Facilis descensus Averno . . . . Sed retrograre gradum, superasque +evadere ad auras, Hoc opus—hic labor est._” xxvii + + +The midday halt concluded, the troops resumed their march for Alcester, +where they hoped to arrive about nightfall, and to surprise Edgar and +his few followers. All that afternoon they proceeded through a dense +woodland country; and the evening was setting in upon them, when +suddenly the scouts in front came galloping back, and gave the +startling information that entrenchments were thrown up across their +path, and that a large force was evidently entrenched behind. + +At first Edwy could scarcely believe the report; but Cynewulf, the +experienced commander upon whom, as we have said, the real command of +the force devolved, rode forward, and soon returned, having previously +ordered a general halt, and that entrenchments should be thrown up for +their own protection during the night. + +“Ealdorman,” said Edwy, impatiently, “why throw up entrenchments? can +we not carry theirs by storm? we are all ready, are we not, for a +valiant charge?” + +“Nay, my lord, we are but ill prepared,” was the reply, “for such +desperate measures. I am not certain they do not outnumber us; even so, +we probably excel them in discipline and skill, and have every chance +of victory tomorrow, which we should lose by fighting in the dark.” + +So Edwy, who did not lack personal courage, and would gladly have ended +the short raid then and there, was forced to be governed by wiser +heads, and accordingly the bivouacs were made, the fires lighted, and +the royal tent pitched upon the slope of a gentle valley, which +descended to a brook in the bottom, where the ground rose similarly on +the other side, and was crowned by the hostile entrenchment, behind +which rose the smoke of the enemy’s fires. The heads of numerous +soldiers, seen over the mound, showed how well they were prepared. + +The entrenchment was dug, the mound thrown up, the sentinels posted, +and all in so short a space of time that to the uninitiated in the art +of war, it would have seemed little short of miraculous; but the +discipline of the Danes, who owed their success generally to the skill +with which they fortified their camps, had been partially inherited by +their adversaries, and the hus-carles were not even all English: there +were many Danes amongst them. + +The suppers were soon cooked and eaten, the wine circulated freely, and +patriotic songs began to be heard: but there was one who seemed to have +no heart for them—Elfric. At the huge fire, which blazed near the royal +tent, Edwy sat as master of the feast, and he was in a state of +boisterous merriment. But all Elfric’s efforts could not hide the +depression of his spirits, and Edwy, who loved him sincerely—for the +reader has seen that he was quite capable of love—tried to rouse him +from it, anxious that no one should suspect the courage of his +favourite. + +Once or twice Elfric seemed to make great efforts to overcome this +feeling of depression, and partially succeeded in veiling it from all +but the observant young king. + +At last the feast was over. + +“My friends,” said the king, “we must be stirring early in the morning, +so we will now disperse for the night.” + +They drank a parting cup, then separated, while the king took Elfric’s +arm and led him aside. + +“Elfric,” said he, “did I not know my friend and most faithful +follower, I should suspect that he feared the morrow’s conflict.” + +“I cannot help it,” said Elfric; “perhaps I do fear it, yet, had I but +my father’s forgiveness, could I but see him once more, I could laugh +at the danger. It is not pain or death I fear, but I long to be where +you have been, I would I had gone with you now.” + +“So do I.” + +“And now I have my forebodings that I shall never hear my father’s +forgiveness; and, Edwy, if I die without it, I believe my spirit cannot +rest; I shall haunt the spot till the day of doom.” + +“This is all moonshine, Elfric. You have not been such a bad fellow +after all; if you go wrong, what will happen to the greater part of +those amongst us who may die tomorrow? When you once get into the +fight, and your blood gets warm, you will be all right; it is only the +first battle that gives one all these fancies.” + +“No; it is not that. I am of a race of warriors, and I do not suppose +one of that race ever felt like this in his first battle. I have often +looked forward to mine with joy, but now my mind is full of gloomy +forebodings: I feel as if some terrible danger, not that of the fight, +were hanging over me and mine, and as if I should never meet those I +did love once, either in this world or the next.” + +“The next! all we know about that comes from the priestly pratings. I +think, of the two heavens, Valhalla,xxviii with its hunting or fighting +by day, its feasting by night, would suit me best. I don’t know why we +should think ourselves wiser than our ancestors; they were most likely +right about the matter, if there be another world at all.” + +“I cannot disbelieve, if you can,” replied poor Elfric, “I have tried +to, but I can’t. Well, I daresay I shall know all about it by this time +tomorrow.” + +“Pshaw! let tomorrow take care of itself; ’tis our first fight, Elfric, +and we will have no cowardly forebodings; we shall live to laugh at +them all. What shall we do with Edgar, if we get him tomorrow? I +suppose one must not shed a brother’s blood, even if he be a rebel?” + +“Certainly not; no, no.” + +“Perhaps it will be shed for me, and a lucky thrust with sword or lance +may end all our trouble, and leave me sole king; but won’t the holy fox +Dunstan grieve if his pet, his favourite, gets hurt? Come, cheer up, +Elfric, my boy; dismiss dull care, and be yourself again!” + +Elfric tried very hard to do so, and again partly succeeded. They had +extended their walk all round the limits of the camp. It was a +beautiful starlit night: there was a new moon, which was just going +down, and an uncertain light hung about the field which was to be the +scene of the conflict. It was one of those bright nights when the very +aspect of nature suggests thoughts of the Eternal and the Infinite; +when the most untutored being, gazing up into the deep blue void, finds +his mind struggle vainly to grasp the hidden secrets those depths +conceal; when the soul seems to claim her birthright, and dreams of an +existence boundless, illimitable, as the starry wastes around. Such +were, perhaps, the ideas which animated the philosophers of the old +heathen world when they placed their departed heroes amongst the +constellations; such, perhaps, the thoughts which led the dying +apostate Julian to bid his followers weep no more for a prince about to +be numbered with the stars. + +Thoughts of peace would those radiant orbs have spoken, under any other +circumstances, to the ardent youth as he gazed upon them; but now they +oppressed him with the consciousness that he was at enmity with the +mighty Unknown, that he was in danger, such danger as he could not +comprehend; not that which comes from the lance point or the sword +blade, but danger which fills the soul with the consciousness of its +existence, yet is impalpable, not having revealed itself, only its +presence. + +“Goodnight, Elfric,” said Edwy, as they reached the camp on their +return; “goodnight. I hope you will be in better spirits in the +morning.” + +Edwy retired within the folds which concealed the entrance to his own +tent. Close by was the tent appointed for Elfric, who acted as his +page; and the latter entered also, and sat down on a camp stool. + +His bed did not seem to invite him; he sat on the seat, his face buried +in his hands; then he suddenly rose, threw himself on his knees, only +for a moment, rose up again: + +“I can’t, I can’t pray; if my fate be death, then come death and +welcome the worst. There will at least be nothing hidden then, nothing +behind the scenes. I will not be a coward.” + +The phrase was not yet written—“Conscience makes cowards of us all;” +yet how true the principle then as now—true before Troy’s renown had +birth, true in these days of modern civilisation. + +He could not sleep peacefully, although he laid himself down; his hands +moved in the air, as if to drive off some unseen enemy, as if the +danger whose presence was impalpable to the waking mind revealed itself +in sleep. + +“No, no” he muttered; “let the blow fall on me, on me, on me alone!” +then he rose as if he would defend some third person from the attack of +an enemy, and the word “Father” once or twice escaped his lips; yet he +was only dreaming. + +“Father!” again he cried, in the accents of warning, as if some +imminent danger menaced the loved one. + +He awoke, stared about, hardly recognising where he was. + +“What can I have been dreaming about?” he cried; “what can it all mean? +I thought I was at Æscendune;” and he strove vainly to recall the +scenes of his dream. + +The tread of the passing guard was the only sound which broke the +stillness of the camp. + +“I cannot sleep,” said Elfric, and walked forth. + +The night was waning, and in the east a red glow was creeping upwards; +the stars were, however, still brilliant. Opposite, at the distance of +less than a mile, the reflection of the camp fires, now low, revealed +the presence of the enemy; before him the mist slowly arose in white +thin smoke-like wreaths, from the grass whereon many should soon sleep +their last sleep, now in unconsciousness of their fate. + +“I wonder where I shall lie?” thought Elfric, as if it were certain he +would fall. + +He felt cooler now, as the hour drew near; he watched the red light +creeping upward, and saw the light clouds above catch the glow, until +the birds began their songs, the glorious orb arose to gild the coming +strife, and the shrill trumpet in the camp was answered by the distant +notes in the camp of the foe, like an echo afar off. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. +THE SLEEP OF PEACE. + + +The first day after the departure of the king from Æscendune passed +rapidly away. The soldiers who had remained behind with Redwald were +quiet and orderly in their demeanour, and even, in obedience to secret +orders, attended the evensong at the minster church, as if moved +thereto by devotion, although the curious spectator might easily +discover the unaccustomed character of their service, by the difficulty +with which they followed the prayers, and the uneasy impatience with +which they listened to a lengthened exposition of a portion of the +Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels from Father Cuthbert. + +The old thane and all his family were very anxious, it may be readily +believed, for the earliest news from the field of battle, for battle +every one agreed was impending; and, to gratify their natural +curiosity. Redwald sent out quick and alert members of his troop, to +act as messengers, and bear speedy news from the scene of action. + +The night set in clear and bright, as we have already seen; and while +poor Elfric was wandering about uneasily beneath that brilliant sky, +the same stars looked down peacefully upon his home, where all slept +sweetly under the fostering care, as they would have said, of their +guardian angels. + +The morn broke brightly, and with every promise of a fine harvest day. +The labourers were speedily again in the fields; the cattle wandered +under the herdsman’s care to their distant pastures; the subdued +tinkling of the sheep bells met the ear, and the other subdued sounds +which soothe the air on a summer’s day; and so the hours fled by, and +no one would have dreamed that, not twenty miles away, man met man in +the fierce and deadly struggle of war. + +When the reapers assembled for their midday meal, they discussed the +merits of the quarrel, and nearly all those who had been brought under +the eye of “Edwy the Fair” were eager in pleading his cause, and trying +to find some extenuation of his misdeeds in the matter of the illegal +marriage, for such it was, from the mildest point of view; and scarcely +a voice was raised on the opposite side, until Ella drew near the scene +of conversation, and observed that “while God forbid they should judge +the matter harshly, yet law was law, and right was right, and a +beautiful face or winsome look could not change it.” + +Strolling near the field, seemingly absorbed in thought, walked +Redwald, and seeing the reapers, he came towards them. + +“A picture of peaceful enjoyment,” he quietly said. “How often have I +wished I could but lay down sword and lance to take more innocent +weapons in hand, and to spend my declining days ’mid scenes like +these.” + +“Indeed!” said Ella. “It is generally thought that men whose trade is +war love their calling.” + +“Yes; sometimes the fierce din of battle seems a pastime fit for the +gods, but the banquet is apt to cloy.” + +“Have you followed your profession for many years?” + +“Since I was a mere child; even my boyhood was passed amid the din of +arms.” + +There were very few professional soldiers in that day, and they were +much dreaded. An Englishman was always ready to take up arms when +lawfully called by his feudal superior, or when home or civil rights +were in danger, but he generally laid them down and returned to his +fields with joy; hence the rustics looked upon a man like Redwald with +much undisguised curiosity. + +“Think you we shall soon hear from the contending parties?” asked +Alfred, who was, as usual, in attendance upon his father. + +“Perhaps by nightfall; one of my men has just returned to tell me that +the king’s progress was stopped by an entrenched camp of the rebels, +and that they expected to fight at early dawn.” + +The news was unexpected, and every one felt his heart beat more +quickly. + +“I have a messenger already on the spot, and so soon as the royal +forces have gained the victory he will speed hither as fast as four +legs can bring him; we shall probably hear by eventide.” + +It is needless to say how every one panted for the decisive news. Ella +and Alfred soon returned to the castle, and Redwald took his horse, and +rode out, as he said, to meet the messenger. + +The hours seemed to pass more slowly; the sun drew near the west, the +shadows lengthened; and Ella, with the lady Edith, Alfred, Edgitha, and +all the members of the little society, could hardly bend their minds to +any occupation, mental or physical. Elfric was ever in their thoughts. + +“O Ella!” said his wife, “this suspense is very hard to bear; I long to +hear about our boy.” + +The mother’s heart was bound up in him, as if there were no other life +in danger that day; Edwy or Edgar, it was little to her in comparison +with her longing for her first-born son. + +“He is in God’s Hands, dearest!” returned her husband; “and in better +Hands than ours.” + +Well might the thoughts of the lady Edith be concentrated on the crisis +before her. She had borne, with a mother’s wounded heart, the +separation of three years, and now it was a question of a few short +hours whether she should ever see him again or not. Now fancy painted +him wounded, nay dying, on the bloodstained field; now it impelled her +to sally forth towards the scene, as though her feeble strength could +bear her to him. Now she sought the chapel, and found refuge in prayer. +She had found refuge many many hours of that eventful day, but +especially since Redwald had borne the news of the imminent battle. + +At length the long suspense was ended. Redwald was seen riding at full +speed towards the castle, followed by the long-expected messenger. + +“Victory! victory!” he cried; “the rebels are defeated; the king shall +enjoy his own.” + +“But Elfric, my son! my son!” + +“Is safe: and will be here in a day or two, perhaps tomorrow.” + +“Thank God!” and the overcharged heart found relief in tears—happy +tears of joy. + +The messenger who followed Redwald brought detailed accounts of the +event. According to his statements it appeared that the king had broken +through the hostile entrenchment, and had scattered their forces in the +first attack. The messenger particularly asserted that he had seen +Elfric, and had been charged with the fondest messages for home, where +the youth hoped to be in a few days at the latest, seeing there was no +longer an enemy to fear. + +The hearts of all present were filled with thankfulness and joy. + +“Come, my beloved Edith,” said the old thane. “Let us go first to thank +God;” and they went together to the chapel which had witnessed so many +earnest prayers that day—now, they believed, so fully answered. + +All gloom and despondency seemed removed, and Ella went forth to walk +alone in the woods, to meditate in silence on the goodness of God. +Nearly each evening this had been his habit. The woods, he said, were +God’s first temples, and when alone he best raised his heart from +nature to nature’s God. + +His thoughts were happy that evening: his first-born boy would be +restored to him, and, like the father in the Gospels, he longed to +embrace the prodigal, and to tell him that all was forgiven. But he +schooled himself to patience, and many a fervent thanksgiving did he +offer as he wandered amidst the grassy glades. + +But he was more weary than usual with the toil and anxiety of the day, +and shortly seated himself upon a mossy bank beneath an aged oak. The +trees grew thickly behind and before him, on each side of the glade, +which terminated at no great distance in the heart of the pathless +forest, so that no occasional wayfarer would be likely to pass that +way. + +There he reposed, until a gentle slumber stole over him and buried all +his senses in oblivion. + +The day was nearly spent, the light clouds which still reflected the +sun’s ruddy glow were fast fading into a grey neutral tint, and +darkness was approaching. Once a timid deer passed along the glade, and +started as it beheld the sleeping form, then went on, but started yet +more violently as it passed a thicket on the opposite side. The night +breeze had arisen and was blowing freshly; but still the old man slept +on, as though he slept that sleep from which none shall awaken until +the archangel’s trump. + +Meanwhile they grew uneasy at the hall over his prolonged absence, and +at length Alfred started to find his father, beginning to fear that the +excitement of the day had been too great for him, and that he might +need assistance. He knew the favourite glade wherein the aged thane was +wont to walk, and the mossy bank whereon he frequently reposed, so he +lost no time, but bent his steps directly for the spot. + +As he drew near, he saw his father lying on the bank beneath the oak as +still in sound sleep, and marvelled that the chilly air of the evening +had not awoke him. He was not wont to sleep thus soundly. He approached +closely, but his steps did not arouse the sleeper. He now bent over +him, and put his hand on his shoulder affectionately and lovingly. + +“Father, awake,” he said; “the night is coming on; you will take cold.” + +But there was no answering voice, and the sleeper stirred not. Alfred +became seriously alarmed, but his alarm changed suddenly into dread +certainty. The feathered shaft of an arrow met his eye, dimly seen in +the darkness, as it stuck in the left side of the sleeping Ella. +Sleeping, indeed. But the sleep was eternal. + +Horrified at the sight, refusing to believe his eyes, the son first +continued his vain attempts to awake his sire, then fell on his knees, +and wrung his hands while he cried piteously, “O father, speak to me!” +as if he could not accept the fact that those lips would never salute +him more. The moonbeams fell on that calm face, calm as if in sleep, +without a spasm of pain, without the contraction of a line of the +countenance. The weapon had pierced through the heart; death had been +instantaneous, and the sleeper had passed from the sleep of this earth +to that which is sweetly called “sleep in the Lord,” without a struggle +or a pang. + +His heart full of joy and thanksgiving, he had gone to carry his +tribute of praise to the very throne of God. + +When the first paroxysm of pain and grief was over, the necessity of +summoning some further aid, of bearing the sad news to his home, +pressed itself upon the mind of Alfred, and he took his homeward road +alone, as if he hardly knew what he was doing, but simply obeyed +instinct. Arrived there, he could not tell his mother or sister; he +only sought the chamberlain and the steward, and begged them to come +forth with him, and said something had happened to his father. They +went forth. + +“We must carry something to bear him home,” he said, and they took a +framework of wood upon which they threw some bearskins. + +Alfred did not speak during the whole way, save that in answer to the +anxious inquiries of his companions he replied, “You will see!” and +they could but infer the worst from his manner, without giving him the +pain of telling the fatal truth. + +At length they reached the glade where the dead body lay. The moon was +bright, and in her light they saw the fatal truth at once. + +“Alas, my master! alas, my dear lord! Who has done this? Who could have +done it?” was their cry. “Was there one who did not love and revere +him?” + +More demonstrative than Alfred had been were they in their +lamentations, for the deepest grief is often the most silent. + +At length they raised the body, the temple of so pure and holy a +spirit, which had now returned to the God Who gave it, reverently as +men would have handled the relics of some martyr saint, and placed it +on the bier which they had prepared. Then they began their homeward +route, and ere a long time had passed they stood before the great gate +of the castle with their burden. + +It now became a necessity for Alfred to announce the sad news to his +widowed mother; and here the power of language fails us—the shock was +so sudden, so unexpected. The half of her life was so suddenly torn +from the bereaved one, that the pang was well-nigh insupportable. But +God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, and has promised that the +strength of His beloved ones shall be even as their day. So He +strengthened the sensitive frame to bear a shock which otherwise might +have slain it. + +The sounds of lamentation and woe were heard all over the castle as +they slowly bore the body to the domestic chapel, while some drew near, +impelled by an irresistible desire to gaze upon it, and then cried +aloud in excess of woe. Amongst the others, Redwald approached, and +gazed fixedly upon the corpse; and Eric the steward often declared, in +later days, that he saw the wound bleed afresh under the glance of the +ruthless warrior, but perhaps this was an afterthought. + +Father Cuthbert, who had now been elected prior of the monastic house +below, on the banks of the river, soon heard the sad news, and hastened +up to tender the sweet consolations of religion—the only solace at such +a time, for it is in seasons of suffering that we best comprehend the +Cross. + +When he entered he saw the corpse in the chapel, where they had placed +it before the altar, and he could only say, “Alas, my lord! alas, my +dear friend!” until he knelt down to pray, and rose up somewhat calmed. + +Then he sought the chamber where the lady Edith hid her woe, and there +he showed her that God was love, hard though it was sometimes for the +frail flesh to see it; and he bade her look to the Divine Sufferer of +Whom it is said, “In all their afflictions He was afflicted;” and so by +his gentle ministrations he brought calm to the troubled breast, and it +seemed as if one had said to the waves of grief, “Peace, be still.” + +And then he gathered the household to prayer, and while they prayed +many a “_Requiescat_” for the faithful soul, as they said the dirge +commending to the Fathers Hands a sheep of His fold, so they also +prayed for strength to see the love which was hidden behind all this +sad, sad visitation, and to know the meaning of the words “Though He +slay me, yet will I trust in Him.” + +And then he bade them rest—those, at least, who were able to do +so—while he watched by the body, as was then the custom, all through +the deep night. + +And so the stars which had looked down from heaven so peacefully upon +the house of Æscendune the night before, of which we wrote, now looked +down as coldly bright as if no change had occurred, shining alike upon +weal or woe, upon crime or holy deed of saint. Yet as the kneeling +friar saw them through the chapel window, he thought they were but the +golden lights which lay about the confines of that happy region where +the faithful live in unspeakable felicity for ever with their Lord, and +he found consolation in the thought of the Eternal and the Infinite. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. +THE BATTLE. + + +The early morn, as we have already seen, broke upon the adverse hosts +of Edwy and Edgar as the trumpet sounded to arouse them from their +slumbers, in many instances from the last slumber they should ever +enjoy. + +Every soldier was on his legs in a moment, and, in the first place, +preparations were made for breakfast: for it was a recognised fact +amongst our ancestors that if you wanted a man to fight or do anything +else well, you must feed him well first. So the care of the body was +never neglected, however pressing the danger. + +Accordingly, Edwy called Elfric to sit by his side at the substantial +meal which commenced the day, and saw, with much pleasure, that the +cloud had partly passed from his friend’s brow for the hope of +immediate action, of the excitement of battle, had done much to drive +lowness and depression from the young warrior. So he strove to chat and +laugh with the loudest, and when the moment came to marshal the host, +and to put them in array, his spirits were as high as in old times. + +The cavalry, which was their strongest arm, was under the command of +Edwy himself, although a sturdy warrior, who had fought in many a +battle, rode on his right hand to supply his lack of experience. + +The main body of the infantry was under the command of Earl Cynewulf, +while the reserve was under the command of Redwald’s immediate +subordinate, and consisted almost exclusively of the household guard. + +The plan of attack, for it was quite decided that they should take the +initiative, was simple, and in accordance with the ordinary tactics of +the times. The heavy-armed foot were bidden first to advance upon the +entrenchments which crowned the opposite hill, and to break the +infantry of the enemy, which was drawn up before them in formidable +array; this done, the horse were immediately to avail themselves of the +opening thus made, and the entrenchments to be assaulted by both +cavalry and infantry. + +Armed with huge axes, clad in mail, and bearing large shields, the foot +advanced to the attack. They were a gallant company; and as the sun +shone upon their glittering armour, or was reflected back from the +bright steel of their axes, they might well inspire faint hearts with +terror; but faint hearts were not amongst those opposed to them. The +chosen men of the northwest, some of half-British blood, crowned the +opposite hill, drawn up in front of their entrenchments, as if they +scorned any other defence than that supplied by their living valour. +They had borrowed their tactics from the Danes: deep and strong on all +sides, they seemed to oppose an impenetrable wall to the foe; they had +their shields to oppose to darts or arrows, their axes for the footmen, +their spears to form a hedge of steel no horse could surmount. + +Even should they yield to the pressure, still all would not be lost; +their retreat was secured into the entrenchments, and there they might +well hope to detain the enemy until the whole population should rise +against the men of Wessex and their leader, and his cause become +hopeless. + +Steadily up the hill came the brave troops of Edwy, and from within +their ranks, as they ascended the slope, a shower of arrows was +discharged by the archers who accompanied them, under their protection; +but no return was yet made by the foe, until they were close at hand, +when a loud war cry burst from the hostile ranks, and a perfect shower +of darts and arrows rained upon the invaders. + +Still they persevered, although they left a living, struggling line on +the bloody grass behind them—persevered, like men longing for the close +hand-to-hand encounter, longing to grasp their foes in deadly grip. The +shock arrived; and axe and sword were busy in reaping the harvest of +death. So great was the physical strength of the combatants that arms +and legs were mown off by a stroke, and men were cloven in two, from +the crown downwards, by the sweeping blows of the deadly steel. + +It was a fearful struggle, but it was a short one; the line was +unshaken in its strength; in vain Edwy’s archers behind shot their +arrows so as to curve over the heads of their brethren and fall amongst +the foe; the men of Wessex recoiled and gave way. + +Edwy seized what he thought the auspicious moment when the ranks of the +foe, although unbroken, were yet weary and breathless, and ordered his +cavalry to charge. The Mercians beheld the coming storm at a distance; +down on their knees went the first line, their spears resting on the +ground; behind them the second bent over to strike with their axes; +while a third rank, the archers, drew their bows, and prepared to +welcome the rushing enemy with a discharge of deadly arrows. + +Every heart beat quickly as the fatal moment came near; onward, with a +sound like thunder, galloped the horse of Edwy. He himself rode at +their head, clad in light armour, and by his side Elfric. All trace of +fear was gone now in the mad excitement of the charge; before them they +saw the wail of spear points; nearer and nearer their coursers bounded, +until they seemed to fly. Every rider leant forward, that his sword +might smite as far as possible; and, daring the points, trusting +perhaps to the breastplates of their horses and their own ready blades, +they rushed madly upon the foe. + +In cold blood no one could, perhaps, have ridden fearlessly against +such an obstacle; but in the excitement of the moment the warriors of +Edwy seemed capable of charging any imaginable barrier: and it became +almost a pure calculation, not of the respective bravery of the troops, +for none were cowards on either side, but of mere physical laws of +force and resistance. + +Elfric scarcely looked where he was going. He saw a shining lance +point, about to impale him, he diverted it by his sword blade, as he +was hurried into the midst of axes, swords, lances, and beheld the +warrior opposite to him in the second rank raise his axe to inflict a +fearful blow, which would have severed his horse’s neck, had not an +arrow transfixed the foe. + +The wedge seemed partly broken, and the king had begun to exult in the +anticipation of speedy victory, when from behind each end of the +entrenchment rushed two bodies of hostile cavalry; they fell upon +Edwy’s forces in the rear, and in a few moments all was confusion. + +The warriors of Edgar rallied, drove the horse out of their lines, +advanced slowly, and the horsemen of the rival brothers, mingled +together in deadly strife, in personal combat, where each man seemed to +have sought and found his individual foe. + +They moved slowly down the bill towards the brook, man after man +falling and dotting the green sward of the hill with struggling, +writhing bodies. + +Meanwhile, Cynewulf was attempting to rally the flying foot, which had +been cut almost in two by the charge of the Mercian cavalry: he +succeeded, with great difficulty, in doing so at the brook which ran +along the bottom of the valley, and, with the stream in their front, +they prepared to afford a refuge to their own, and to resist the +hostile horse. + +Edwy saw the opportunity, and, raising himself in his stirrups, called +upon his friends to follow him: he leapt the brook, and galloped round +behind the foot, where nearly all the unwounded horsemen followed him. +He had fought well, had slain more than one foe with his own royal +hand, as became a descendant of Cerdic, and now he but retired to +organise another and stouter resistance to the daring foe. + +But he was forced to admit now that Cynewulf was right in his +conjecture, and that they were utterly outnumbered, for the foe poured +forth from their entrenchment and advanced in good order down the +slope; while the Mercian cavalry, forming in two detachments to the +left and right, crossed the brook and charged along its banks upon the +flanks of the Wessex infantry, at the same moment. + +The warrior upon whose advice Edwy had been told to depend had fallen: +he was left to his own resources. Alas! he forgot he was a commander, +and, waving his plumed cap as a signal for his brother knights to +follow, charged upon the horsemen who were advancing up stream at like +speed, forgetting that a similar body was advancing in the opposite +direction, and that as all his force were following his lead, the +opposite flank of the foot was unprotected. + +In a single minute they were all engaged in the fiercest melee which +imagination can well paint, fighting as furiously as men of the same +blood only seem to fight when once the claims of kindred are cast +aside. Swords ascended and descended with deadly violence; horses +raised themselves up on their hind legs, and, catching the deadly +enthusiasm, seemed to engage their fellows; riders fell, sternly +repressing the groan which pain would extort, while their steeds, less +self controlled, uttered, when wounded, those ear-piercing cries only +heard from the animals in deadly terror or pain. + +In the midst of this tumult Elfric engaged a Mercian of superior size +and strength; it was his second personal encounter; in his first, he +had seen his adversary fall with a warrior’s stern joy, but now he was +overmatched; borne down by an arm twice as strong as his own, his guard +was broken down, and a deadly blow laid open his shoulder, cutting the +veins in the neck of his horse at the same fell sweep. The animal, +blinded with blood, staggered, fell, and he was down amongst the +horses’ feet, confined by one leg, for his horse rolled partly upon him +in its dying struggles; while he felt the hoofs of other chargers in +close proximity to his heed. + +A loud cry, “They fly! They fly! Victory! Victory!” reached him even +then. He well knew from which party the cries must proceed, and that he +was left to the mercy of the victorious Mercians. + +It was even so; the charge of the hostile cavalry on the left flank had +broken down the ranks of the infantry on that side; the hostile foot +had contrived to cross the brook in the confusion, and all was lost. + +The reserve now came rapidly forward, but, seeing at a glance the state +of things, retired to defend the entrenched camp, so as to give the +king and his broken and routed followers time to escape, while they +made good the defence with their lives. So they retired at once into +the camp, whither Edwy and his few surviving companions galloped a +moment after them. + +Edwy was unhurt; he dismounted: his fair face flushed to a fiery red +with heat and excitement, he leapt on the entrenchment and looked on +the plain. He saw those of his own followers who had not yet made good +their escape, ridden down, cut to pieces, slaughtered in the excitement +of the moment without mercy; the sight stung him, be would have sallied +out to their defence, but Cynewulf, who was yet living, met him in the +gateway, and sternly seized the bridle of his steed. + +“My lord and king,” he said; “your life is precious to Wessex, you may +not throw it away.” + +“I cannot see my followers slaughtered: loose my bridle, I command +you;” and he raised his sword impetuously. + +“You may cut me down, and so reward my faithful service; but, living, +you shall not pass me on your road to destruction. My lord, I am old +enough to be your father.” + +But there was one gay young noble present, who knew better than +Cynewulf the key to Edwy’s heart. He was one of the boon companions we +have been before introduced to; but he had fought, poor young fellow, +gallantly all that day, and now he could fight no longer: Edwy saw him +reel and fall from his horse. + +“Elfgar!” he said; as he strove to raise his friend and subject from +the ground—“not seriously wounded I hope!” + +“Dying, and for my king, as is my duty let a dying voice reach you, my +dear lord. Save yourself if you would save Elgiva, if you —if you—” the +words came broken and faint “—are slain, she will be at the mercy of +her deadly foes.” + +His head fell helplessly down upon his shoulder, and ere the king could +make any reply, he saw that he was indeed past hope. + +But his dying words had sunk deeply into the heart of Edwy. + +“Poor Elfgar! he was right. O Elgiva! Elgiva! this is a sad day for +thee.” + +“Return then to her, my lord,” said Cynewulf. “See, they are preparing +now to assault the camp; I can hold it for hours, and if you are not +here, I can make good terms with our foes; but, if you stay, you but +embarrass us: ride out, my liege.” + +“And desert my subjects?” + +“They will all acquit you: haste, my lord, haste, before they surround +the camp, for your fair queen’s sake, or you are lost.” + +“Come, my men, we must fly,” said Edwy, sullenly; and he led the way +reluctantly to the back of the camp. + +The road was partly encumbered with fugitives, but not wholly, as most +of them sought the entrenched camp. Cynewulf accompanied him to the +gate, where he stopped to give one last piece of advice. + +“Fly, my lord, for Wessex at once; lose no time; the best route will be +the Foss Way; they will not suspect that you have taken that direction. +Ride day and night; if you delay anywhere you are lost.” + +“Farewell, faithful and wise counsellor. Odin and Thor send that we may +meet again;” and Edwy with only a dozen followers rode out at full +speed. + +The Mercians had not yet reached that side of the camp, which was +concealed by woods which were clear of all enemies, and he rode on +rapidly. + +“What has become of Elfric, my Leofric?” he said to one of his faithful +train. + +“I fear me he is dead: I saw him fall in the last struggle.” + +“Poor Elfric! poor Elfric! then his forebodings have come true; he will +never see his father again.” + +“It is all fortune and fate, and none can resist his doom, my lord,” +said Leofric. + +“But Elfric; yes, I loved Elfric. I would I had never left that fatal +field.” + +“Think, my lord, of Elgiva.” + +“Yes, Elgiva—she is left to me and left all is left. Ride faster, +Leofric, I fancy I hear pursuers.” + +They had, at Cynewulf’s suggestion, taken fresh horses from the +reserve, and had little cause to fear pursuit. In an hour they reached +the Foss Way and rode along the route described in our former chapter, +until, reaching the frontiers of the territory of the old Dobuni, they +left the Foss, and rode by the Roman trackway which we have previously +described, until they turned into a road which brought them deep into +Oxfordshire. Here they were in a territory which had been a debateable +land between Mercia and Wessex, where the sympathies of the people were +not strongly enlisted on either side and they were comparatively safe. + +They passed Kirtlington; rested at Oxenford, then rode through +Dorchester and Bensington to Reading, whence they struck southward for +Winchester, where Edwy rested from his fatigue in the society of +Elgiva. + +So ended the ill-advised raid into Mercia. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. +EARTH TO EARTH, AND DUST TO DUST. + + +Although Edwy and his little troop had been successful in gaining the +main road, and in escaping into Wessex, yet few of his followers had +been so fortunate, and his broken forces were seeking safety and escape +in all directions, wanderers in a hostile country. A large number found +a refuge in the entrenched camp; but it was surrounded by the foe in +less than half-an-hour after the king’s escape, and all ingress or +egress was thenceforth impossible. + +While one large body fled eastward towards the Watling Street, the +soldiers who had accompanied the king to Æscendune naturally turned +their thoughts in that direction. It was, as they had seen, capable of +a long defence—well provisioned, and already partly garrisoned; nor +could they doubt the joy with which their old companions would receive +them, either to share in the defence of the post, or to accompany them +in an honourable retreat southward. + +So, not only those who survived of the fifty who had left Æscendune the +previous morning, but all whom they could persuade to join them, +actuated separately by the same considerations, made their way in small +detachments through the forest towards the hall. Redwald had thoroughly +earned the confidence of all his warriors, and they would follow him to +death or victory with equal devotion. Now, in adversity, they only +sought to put themselves once more under the rule of their talented and +daring chieftain. + +Therefore it was that while Father Cuthbert was yet kneeling in the +chapel, where the body of the departed thane had been placed, the +devotions of the good priest were disturbed by the blowing of horns and +the loud shout whereby the first fugitives sought admittance into the +castle. + +Redwald had also been up nearly all night pacing his room, muttering +incoherently to himself. Over and over again he regarded intently a +locket containing a solitary tress of grey hair, and once or twice the +word “Avenged” rose to his lips. + +“And they little know,” said he, soliloquising, “who the avenger is, or +what have been his wrongs; little know they how the dead is represented +in the halls of his sire—blind! blind! Whichever way the victory +eventually turn, he is avenged.” + +While he thus soliloquised he was aroused by the same noise which had +disturbed Father Cuthbert’s devotions, and, recognising its source, +betook himself to the gateway, where some of his own soldiers were on +guard, who, true to discipline, awaited his permission to allow their +comrades to enter: it is needless to say it was readily given. + +Broken and dispirited was the little troop of ten or a dozen men, who +first appeared in this manner after the fight; their garments torn and +bloody, some of them wounded, they yet raised a shout of joy as they +saw their trusted leader. + +“Whence come ye, my comrades in arms?” said he, “and what are your +news—you look like men who have fled from battle.” + +“We did not fly till all was lost.” + +The countenance of Redwald indicated some little emotion, though it was +transient as the lightning’s flash in the summer night. + +“The king—is it well with him?” + +“He has fled with a small troop to the south.” + +“Saw you aught of Elfric of Æscendune?” + +“He fell in the last charge of the cavalry.” + +“Dead?” + +“We think so.” + +“How is it that you have suffered yourselves to be beaten?” + +“Had you been there it might have ended differently. We became the +aggressors, and attacked a superior force, while they had all the +advantage of ground.” + +“Come in. You must first have some food and wine; then you shall tell +me all. We may need your help here, and shall be glad of every +able-bodied man.” + +“More are on the road.” + +And so it proved, for party after party continued to fall in. The +solemn quiet, which so well befitted the house of mourning, was +banished by the presence of the soldiery in such large numbers, for +early in the day nearly a hundred and fifty were gathered together, and +accommodation threatened to fall short. + +Under these circumstances the lady Edith became very anxious that +either the departure of her unwelcome guests should be hastened, or +that the loved remains should be removed at once to the priory church, +where she could bemoan her grief in quiet solitude, and be alone with +her beloved and God. There seemed no rest or peace possible in the +hall, and Redwald was apportioning all the accommodation to his +followers as they came, preserving only the private apartments of the +lady Edith from intrusion. + +She was still expecting the arrival of Elfric, for Redwald had not +communicated the news he had received, and she did not even know that +King Edwy had been defeated; so absorbed was she in her grief, that she +did not note the thousand little circumstances which might have told +her as much. + +But before the hour of terce, Alfred came into the room where she was +seated with her daughter, and she saw by his troubled countenance that +he had something to communicate which pained him to tell. + +“Elfric!” she said—“he is well?” + +“He has not come yet, my mother; and I grieve to say that we were +deceived yesterday—deceived about the battle.” + +“How so?” + +“The king was defeated; he has fled southward, and there has been a +great slaughter.” + +“But Elfric?” + +“No one can tell me anything about him,” said Alfred, wringing his +hands. “Mother, you must leave this place.” + +“Leave our home—and now?” + +“They talk of defending it against the forces of the Etheling Edgar, +who has been declared king; and we should all be in great danger.” + +“But will they stay here against our will?” + +“Yes; for they say their lives depend upon it, that the Mercians scour +all the country round about, that all the roads are now occupied and +guarded, so that they can only hope to defend this place until they can +make terms with the King of Mercia, as they call Edgar, who is likely +to be acknowledged by all north of the Thames. The curse of the Church +is, they say, upon Edwy.” + +“Father Cuthbert is still here, is he not?—what does he advise? where +shall we go?” + +“He says we can have the old house in which he, and the mass-thanes +xxix before him, lived while as yet the priory was incomplete or +unbuilt. It is very comfortable, and close to the church.” + +“But to take him so soon from his home!” + +“They will place him in God’s house, before the altar; there could not +be a better place where they or we could wish his dear remains to await +the last rites upon earth.” + +At that moment Father Cuthbert entered the room unannounced. + +“Pardon me, my revered lady,” he began; “but I grieve to say that your +safety demands instant action, and must excuse my intrusion; your life +and liberty are no longer safe here.” + +“Life and liberty?” + +“There is some foul plot to detain you all here, on pretence your +safety requires it. I have been this morning to Redwald, and he refuses +permission for any one to leave the place, asserting that thus only can +he assure your safety. Now, it is plain that if the place comes to be +besieged you would be far safer in the priory or the old priests’ +house. Our own countrymen would not injure us.” + +“He will not detain us by force?” + +“I would not trust to that; but we must meet guile by guile. I have +pretended to be content on your behalf and he is just going to leave +the hall, with the greater part of his followers, to collect provisions +and cattle. I have told him that the Grange farm is well stocked; he +has caught the bait, and is going to superintend the work of spoliation +in person: far better, in the present need, that he should rob the +estate than that a hair of your head or of those of your children +should perish.” + +“But why do you suspect him of evil?” + +“I cannot tell you now. I have overheard dark, dark speeches. So soon +as he has gone, Alfred and I must summon all your own people who are in +the hall. We will then bring the body forth, and follow it ourselves; +as we shall outnumber those left behind I do not imagine they will +dare, in his absence, to interfere with our progress.” + +“I will go at once,” said Alfred, “and summon the household.” + +“No; you would be observed. I am older and perhaps a little more +discreet. Stay with your mother till all is ready.” + +Alfred reluctantly obeyed, and Father Cuthbert went forth. So great was +their anxiety that it almost banished the power of prayer, save such +mental shafts as could be sent heavenward in each interval of thought. + +At last Alfred, who was at the window, saw Redwald and his +followers—nearly a hundred in number—leave the castle and ride across +towards the forest in the direction of the farm in question. Another +moment and Father Cuthbert entered. + +“Are you ready? If so, follow me.” + +He took them by a private passage into the chapel, where four men +already stood by the bier, ready to head the procession, and thirty or +forty others were gathered in the chapel or about the door—their own +vassals, good and true. They all were armed. + +Father Cuthbert ascended the wooden tower above the chapel, which +served as a bell cot. He looked from its windows; the party of Redwald +had disappeared behind the trees. + +He came down and gave the signal. The sad procession started; they +descended the steps to the courtyard. Redwald had left some forty or +fifty men behind—men who had grown old in arms, and who, if they had +pleased, might perhaps have stopped the exit, but they were not +sufficiently in the confidence of their leader to take the initiative; +and the only man who was in his confidence, and whom he had charged to +see that no one departed, was fortunately at that moment in another +part of the building. The sentinel at the drawbridge was one of +Redwald’s troop. He menaced opposition, and refused to let the +drawbridge be peaceably lowered. + +“Art thou a Christian?” said Father Cuthbert, coming forward in his +priestly attire, “and dost thou presume to interfere with a servant of +the Lord and to delay a funeral?” + +“I must obey my orders.” + +“Then I will excommunicate thee, and deliver thy soul to Satan.” + +And he began to utter some awful Latin imprecation, which so aroused +the superstition of the sentinel that he made no further opposition, +which perhaps saved his life, for the retainers of Æscendune were +meditating instant violence, indignant at the delay and the outrage to +their lady. + +They themselves let the drawbridge down and guarded the sad cortege +over the plain. Their numbers increased every moment, and before they +reached the neighbourhood of the priory they had little cause to fear +any attack, should Redwald have arrived and have been rash enough to +attempt one. + +The old parsonage house, which had served for the residence of each +successive parish prior or mass-thane, was a large and commodious +building, containing all such accommodation as the family absolutely +required in the emergency, while furniture, provision and comforts of +all kinds were sent over from the priory, for the good fathers did not +forget at this hour of need that they owed their own home to the +liberality of Ella and his father. + +So when they had deposited the loved remains before the altar of the +church, and had knelt a brief season in prayer, the exiled family took +possession of their temporary home. It was hard—very hard—to give up +their loved dwelling at such a season of affliction, but the dread +which Redwald had somehow inspired made it a great relief to be removed +from his immediate presence. + +Yet they could give no reason for the feeling they all shared. Father +Cuthbert evidently suspected, or knew, things which he as yet concealed +from them. + +“Who could have slain the husband and father?” + +This was the unanswered question. Their suspicions could only turn to +Redwald or some of his crew: no marauders were known to lurk in the +forest; there was, they felt assured, not one of his own people who +would not have died in his defence. Again, it was not the lust of gold +which had suggested the deed, for they had found the gold chain he wore +untouched. What then could have been the motive of the murderer? + +Father Cuthbert had found a solution, which was based upon sad +experience of the traditional feuds so frequently handed down from +father to son. Still he would not suggest further cause of disquietude, +and added no further words. + +The utter uncertainty about Elfric was another cause of uneasiness. +Whether he had gone southward with the king, or had fallen on the +battlefield, they knew not; or whether he had surrendered with the +prisoners taken in the entrenched camp, and who had been all admitted +to mercy. + +In the course of the morning they saw Redwald return, laden with the +spoils of the Grange farm—oxen and sheep, waggons containing corn, +driven before him. What passed within on his entrance they could not +tell; how narrow their escape they knew not—were not even certain it +had been an escape at all. + +It was now determined that the interment should take place on the +morrow, and the intelligence was communicated rapidly to all the +tenantry. + +Hourly they expected the forces of Mercia to appear, and exact a heavy +account from Redwald for his offences. He was supposed to be the +instigator of the expedition which had failed so utterly; it was not +likely that he would be allowed to retain Æscendune a long time. The +only surprise people felt was that he should have dared to remain at +the post when all hope of successful resistance had ceased. He had his +own reasons, which they knew not. + +Under these circumstances it seemed desirable to hurry forward the +interment, lest it should be interfered with from without, in the +confusion of hostile operations against the hall. + +The priory church was a noble but irregular structure, of great size +for those days. The cunning architect from the Continent, who had +designed it, had far surpassed the builders of ordinary churches in the +grandeur of his conception. The lofty roof, the long choir beyond the +transept, gave the idea of magnitude most forcibly, and added dignity +to the design. In the south transept was a chapel dedicated especially +to St. Cuthbert, where the aged Offa reposed, and the mother of Ella. +There they had removed the body to await the last solemn rites. Six +large wax tapers burned around it, and watchers were there day and +night—mourners who had loved him well, and felt that in him they had +lost a dear friend. + +The wife, the son, or the daughter, were ever there, but seldom alone. +For when the monks in the choir were not saying the canonical hours, or +the low mass was not being said at one of the side altars, still the +voice of intercession arose, with its burden: + +“Eternal rest give unto him, O Lord, +And let perpetual light shine upon him.” + + +At length the morning came, the second only after death. The +neighbouring thanes whom the troubled times did not detain at home, the +churls of the estate, the thralls, crowded the precincts of the +minster, as the solemn bell tolled the deep funeral knell. At length +the monks poured into the church, while the solemn “_Domino refugium_” +arose from their lips—the same grand words which for these thousand +years past have told of the eternity of God and the destiny of the +creature; speaking as deeply to the heart then as in these days of +civilisation. + +The mourners entered, Alfred supporting his widowed mother, who had +summoned all her fortitude to render the last sad offices to her dear +lord; her daughter, a few distant relations—there were none nearer of +kin. The bier, with its precious burden, was placed in the centre +before the high altar. Six monks, bearing torches, knelt around it. A +pall, beautifully embroidered, covered the coffin, a wreath of flowers +surmounting a cross was placed upon it. + +The solemn requiem mass commenced, and the great Sacrifice once offered +upon Calvary was pleaded for the soul of the deceased thane. When the +last prayer had been said, the coffin was sprinkled with hallowed +water, and perfumed with sweet incense, after which it was removed to +its last resting place. The grave was already prepared. Again the +earthly cavern was sprinkled with the hallowed water, emblematical of +the blood of sprinkling which speaketh better things than that of Abel, +and the body—the sacred dust for which Christ had died, in which God +had dwelt as in a temple—was lowered, to be sown in corruption, that +hereafter it might be raised in incorruption and joy unspeakable. + +All crowded to take the last sad look. Alfred felt his dear mother’s +arm tremble as she leant on him, yet gazed firmly into that last +resting place, while the solemn strain arose: + +“Ego sum resurrectio et vita. Qui credit in Me, etiam si mortuus fuerit +vivet; et omnis qui vivit, et credit in Me, non morietur in æternum.” +xxx + + + + +CHAPTER XX. +“AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT.” + + +The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn what had really +been the fate of the unhappy Elfric of Æscendune—whether he had indeed +been cut off with the work of repentance incomplete, or whether he yet +survived to realise the calamity which had fallen upon his household. + +He lived. When the blow of his adversary, as we have seen, crushed him +to the earth, and he lay there with his head on the ground, prostrate, +amidst kicking and plunging hoofs, and the roar and confusion of deadly +strife, Providence, without which not one sparrow falleth to the +ground, watched over him, and averted the iron hoofs from his forehead. +Could one have concentrated his gaze upon that little spot of earth and +have seen the furious hoofs graze, without injuring, that tender +forehead, could he have beheld the gallop of the retreating steeds over +and around that senseless form, for it now lay senseless, he would have +realised that there is One Whose Eye is observant of each minute detail +which concerns the life of His beloved ones—nay, Who knows the +movements of the tiniest insect, while His Hand directs the rolling +spheres. And his care preserved Elfric for His Own wise ends, until the +fight receded, leaving its traces behind it, as when the tide of ocean +recedes after a storm and the beach is strewn with wreck—bodies of men, +of horses, mutilated, dismembered, dead or dying, disabled or +desperately wounded. + +Hours had passed, during which the sounds of the combat still +maintained at the entrenched camp came freshly on the ear, and then +died away, until the solemn night fell upon the scene, and the only +sound which smote the ear were faint, faint moans—cries of “Water! +water!” incessantly repeated from hundreds of feeble lips. + +It was then that Elfric awoke from the insensibility which had resulted +from exhaustion and the stunning blow he had received in his fall. +Every limb seemed in pain, for the loss of blood had not left the vital +powers strength for the maintenance of the due circulation through the +body, and the cold night air chilled the frame. He did not at first +comprehend where he was, but as his senses returned he perceived all +too well that he was left for dead. + +His first impulse was to see whether he had strength to arise. He +raised himself partially, first on one elbow, and then he strove to +stand up, but fell back feebly and helplessly, like an infant who first +essays to escape its mother’s arms and to trust its feeble limbs. + +Then he looked around him, thus raising his head, and gazed upon the +sad and shocking scene. Close by him, with the head cleft literally in +two by a battle-axe, lay a horseman, and his blood reddened all the +ground around Elfric’s feet, and had deeply dyed the youth’s lower +garments; a horse, his own, lay dead, the jugular vein cut through, +with all the surrounding muscles and sinews; hard by, a rider had +fallen with such impetus, that his helmet had fixed itself deeply in +the ground, and the body seemed as if it had quivered for the moment in +the air; a dart had transfixed another through belt and stomach, and he +lay with the weapon appearing on either side the body. Near these lay +another, whose thigh had been pierced to the great artery, and who had +bled to death, as the deadly paleness of the face showed; here and +there one yet lived, as faint moan and broken utterance testified; but +Elfric could bear no more, his head sank upon the ground, and he hid +his face. + +It was bright starlight, and the gleam of the heavenly host seemed to +mock the wounded youth as he thought of the previous night, when, sound +in body, he had wandered beneath the glittering canopy of the heavens; +and thus reminded, all the thoughts of that previous night came back +upon him, especially the remembrance of his sin, of his desertion of +his father, of his vicious life at court, of his neglect for three +years and more of all the obligations of religion, and he groaned aloud +in the anguish of his spirit. + +“Oh! spare me, my God!” he cried, “for I am not fit to die! Spare me, +that I may at least receive my father’s forgiveness.” + +For he felt as if he could not ask God to forgive him until he had been +forgiven by his father. Little did he think, poor boy, that that father +lay cold in death; that never could he hear the blessed words of +forgiveness from his tongue; neither had he the consolation of knowing +how completely he had been forgiven, and how lovingly he had been +remembered in his father’s last hours upon earth. + +“I cannot die! I cannot die!” thus he cried; and he strove again to +raise himself from the ground, but in vain; strove again, as if he +would have dragged his feeble body through pain and anguish all the way +to Æscendune, but could not. The story of the prodigal son, often told +him by Father Cuthbert, came back to him, not so much in its spiritual +as in its literal aspect: he would fain arise and go to his father; but +he could not. + +“O happy prodigal!” he cried; “thou couldst at least go from that far +off country, and the husks which the swine did eat; but I cannot, I +cannot!” + +While thus grieving in bitterness of spirit, he saw a light flitting +about amongst the dead bodies, and stopping every now and then; once he +saw it pause, and heard a cry of expostulation, then a faint scream, +and all was still; and he comprehended that this was no ministering +angel, but one of those villainous beings who haunt the battlefield to +prey upon the slain, and to despatch with short mercy those who offer +resistance. + +He lay very, very quiet, hoping that the light would not come near him, +and he trembled every time it bent its course that way; but at length +his fears seemed about to be realised—it drew near, and he saw the face +of a hideous looking hag, dressed in coarse and vile garments, who held +a bloody dagger in the right hand, and kept the left in a kind of bag, +tied to her person, in which she had evidently accumulated great store. +Her eyes were roaming about, until the light suddenly was reflected +from the poor lad’s brilliant accoutrements, and she advanced towards +him. + +He groaned, and sank backwards, and her hand was upon the dagger, while +she cast such a look as the fabled vampire might cast upon her destined +victim, loving gold much, but perhaps blood most, when all at once she +turned and fled. + +Elfric knew not what had saved him; when voices fell upon his ear, and +the baying of a dog. + +“Which way has that hag fled? Pursue her, she murders the wounded.” + +The sound of rushing feet was heard, and Elfric felt that help was +near, yet leaving him, and he cried aloud, “Help! help! for the love of +God.” + +One delayed in his course, and came and stood over the prostrate form. +It was a monk, for the boy recognised the Benedictine habit, and his +heart sank within him as he remembered how pitilessly he had helped to +drive that habit from Glastonbury. + +“Art thou grievously wounded, my son?” + +“I feel faint, even unto death, with loss of blood. Oh! remove me, and +bear me home; if thou art a man of God leave me not here to perish in +my sins.” + +The piteous appeal went to the heart of the monk, and he knelt down, +and by the aid of a small lamp, examined the wounds of the sufferer. + +“Thou mayst yet live, my son,” he said; “tell me where is thy home; is +it in Mercia?” + +“It is! it is! My home is Æscendune; it is not far from here.” + +“Æscendune—knowest thou Father Cuthbert?” + +“I do indeed; he was my tutor, once my spiritual father.” + +“Thy name?” + +“Elfric, son of the thane Ella.” + +The monk started, then raised a loud cry, which speedily brought two or +three men in the dress of thralls (theows) to his side. + +“She will murder no more, father; the dog overtook her, and held her +till we came; she was red with blood, and we knocked her down; Oswy +here brained her with his club.” + +“It is well—she deserved her fate; but, Oswy, look at this face.” + +“St. Wilfred preserve us!” cried the man “it is the young lord. He is +not dying, is he? She hadn’t hurt him—the she-wolf?” + +“No, we were just in time, and only just in time; we must carry him +home to his father.” + +The monk had started for the expected scene of battle, intent on doing +good, with a small party of the thralls of Æscendune, just after Edwy +had left the hall; consequently, he knew nothing of the death of the +thane or the subsequent events. Oh, how sweetly his words fell upon +Elfric’s ears, “Carry him home to his father.” + +A litter was speedily made; one of the thralls jumped into a willow +tree which overhung the stream, and cut down some of the stoutest +boughs. The others wove them with withes into a kind of litter, threw +their own upper garments thereon in their love, placed the poor wounded +form as tenderly upon it as a mother would have done, and bore him from +the field, ever and anon stopping to relieve some other poor wounded +sufferer, and to comfort him with the intelligence that similar aid was +at hand for all, as the various lights now appearing testified. + +For themselves, they felt all other obligation fade before their duty +to their young lord. He was object of their solicitude. + +So they bore him easily along, until they reached a stream; there they +paused and washed the heated brow, and allowed the parched lips to +imbibe, but only slightly, the pure fresh beverage, sweeter far than +the stimulant the good monk had poured down his throat on the field. +Then they arranged his dress—bound up his wounds, for the Benedictine +was an accomplished surgeon for the times; after which, having +satisfied himself that his patient was able to bear the transit, he +departed, with a cheerful benediction, to render the like aid to +others. + +So comforted was Elfric, and so relieved from pain, that he slept all +through the following hours, as they bore him along through woodland +paths; and he dreamt that he had met his father and was clasped +lovingly in his forgiving arms. + +At daybreak they were six or seven miles from the camp, and they +rested, for the continued effort had wearied the bearers. They made a +fire, cooked their breakfast, and tried to persuade Elfric to eat, +which he did, sparingly. + +Then they resumed their journey; they kept as much in the shade as +possible, for it was a bright day; rested again at noontide, with only +five or six miles before them; started when the heat was a little +overpast, and just after sunset came in sight of the halls of +Æscendune, from the opening in the forest whence Elfric had beheld them +that night when he first brought Prince Edwy home in company with his +brother Alfred. + +The wounded youth raised himself up, looked with intense affection at +the home of his youth, and sank back contented on his couch, thinking +only of father and mother, brother and sister, and the sweet +forgiveness he felt sure awaited him. Poor boy! + +It was almost dark when they reached the gate of the castle, and the +drawbridge was up. One of the bearers blew his horn loudly, and the +summons brought the warder to the little window over the postern gate. + +“Who are you, and what do you seek?” was the cry. + +“We are bringing my young lord, Elfric of Æscendune, home from the +battlefield wounded.” + +“Wait a while.” + +A few minutes passed; then the drawbridge was lowered, and the bearers +bore their burden into the courtyard. Every moment Elfric expected to +see the beloved faces bending over him; but all seemed strange, till he +remembered that Redwald had remained behind at the hall; the four +bearers spoke uneasily to one another, and Oswy disappeared in the +dusky twilight. + +At length three or four men, in the military costume so familiar to +Elfric, approached the litter; and raising him, bore him into the +interior of the building, up the stairs, into the gallery, which partly +ran round at the height of the first floor. The door of a room was +opened, a familiar room; it had been his father’s bedroom, and Elfric +was placed on the bed. + +“Ask them to come to me,” he said “father, mother, Alfred, +Edgitha!—where are they?” + +But minute after minute passed by, and no one came near; there was no +light in the room, and it was soon very dark. Elfric became very +uncomfortable; it was not the kind of reception he had promised +himself. + +“Why does not my father come,” he muttered impatiently, “to see his +wounded boy?” and he felt at one moment his pride revive, then a +sickening feeling of anxiety filled his heart. + +But it was not until an hour had passed that he heard a heavy step on +the stairs, and soon the door opened, and Redwald appeared. + +Elfric gazed upon him with surprise; especially when he noted the stern +cold look which sat on his features. As Redwald did not speak, Elfric +took the initiative. + +“Why is not my father here? I want to see him, Redwald; do send him to +me; say I must see him, I must—I cannot endure this longer; it is more +than I can bear.” + +“Calm yourself and listen to me, for I have a strange story to unfold +to you.” + +“Not now; some other time; do send them to me.” + +“It must be heard now; and perhaps when you have heard it, you will +comprehend why they do not come.” + +“But they will come?” + +“Elfric, there was, two generations back, a man who had two sons; he +was a noble thane of high descent, his eldest son was worthy of his +father, high souled, impetuous, brave, fiery, and in short, all a +warrior’s son should be: the younger son had the heart of a monk, and +was learned in all pious tricks; he stole the father’s heart from his +elder brother.” + +Elfric began to listen at this point. + +“At last, misjudgment and unkindness drove the elder brother from home, +and he sought food and shelter from men who had the souls of +conquerors. With them he lived, for his father disinherited him; he had +no father, he had no country.” + +Elfric began to draw his breath quickly. + +“At length war arose between those who had sheltered and protected him, +and the people who should have been his own people; say what side was +the exile to be found on?” + +“He should have fought with his own people.” + +“His own people were those who had really adopted him when his father +and family disowned him, and with them he fought for victory; but the +fates were unpropitious, the people with whom his father and brother +fought were successful; the son was taken prisoner, and adjudged to die +a traitor’s death, his own father and brother consenting.” + +Elfric began to comprehend all. + +“They put him on board an open boat, and sent him out to sea, at the +mercy of winds and waves; but not alone; he had married amongst the +people who had adopted him, and his boy would not forsake his sire, for +he had one boy—the mother was dead. This boy besought the hard-hearted +executioners of a tyrant’s will to let him share the fate of his sire, +so earnestly, that at last they consented.” + +“The boat, as it pleased fate, was driven by wind and tide on the shore +of Denmark, and there the unhappy exile landed; but he had been wounded +in the battle, and his subsequent exposure caused his early death; +before he died he bequeathed one legacy, and only one, to his son— + +“Vengeance.” + +Elfric was pale as death, and trembled visibly. + +“Then you are—” + +“Elfric, I am your cousin, and the deadly foe of you and yours!” + +“Then my poor father; but if you must find a victim seek it in me; +spare him! oh, spare him!” + +Redwald smiled; but such a smile. + +“At least let me see him now, and obtain his forgiveness. Redwald, he +is my father; you were faithful to your father; let me atone for my +unfaithfulness to mine.” + +“You believe there is another world, perhaps?” + +Elfric only answered by a look of piteous alarm. + +“Because, in that case, you must seek your father there; although I +fear Dunstan would say there is likely to be a gulf between you.” + +Elfric comprehended him, and with a cry which might have melted a heart +of stone, fell back upon the bed. For a moment he lay like one stunned, +then began to utter incoherent ravings, and gazed vacantly around, as +one who is delirious. + +Redwald seemed for one moment like a man contending with himself, like +one who felt pity struggling with sterner emotions; yet the contest was +very short. + +“It is of no use—he must die; if hearts break, I hope his will break, +and save me the task of shedding his blood, or causing it to be shed; +there must be no weakness now; he has been sadly wounded; if he is left +alone, he will die; better so—I would spare him if I were not bound by +an oath so dread that I shudder to think of it. The others have +escaped: he must die.” + +Still he walked to and fro, as if pity yet contended with the thirst +for vengeance in his hardened breast: perhaps it was his day of grace, +and the Spirit of Him, Who has said “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” +pleaded hard with the sinner. Yet the gentle Voice pleaded in vain; +still he walked to and fro, until his resolution seemed firmly made; +and he left the chamber, fastening it on the outside. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. +“UNDER WHICH KING?” + + +It will be remembered that one of the theows who had borne Elfric home +from the field of battle had become alarmed by the suspicious aspect of +things at the hall, and had escaped, by prompt evasion, the confinement +which awaited his companions. Oswy, for it was he, thus showed his +natural astuteness, while he also conferred the greatest possible +obligation upon Elfric, since he bore the news of his ill-timed arrival +at once to the priory. + +Here his worst suspicions were confirmed; and the faithful thrall heard +for the first time of the death of his late lord, and that he had given +his young master into the hands of his bitter foes. Alfred was at once +summoned; and a conference was held, in which Father Cuthbert, his +brethren, and the chamberlain and steward of the hall, took part. + +“It is now generally believed,” said Father Cuthbert, “that Redwald is +the bitter enemy, for some reason, of the house of Æscendune. Has any +one here suspected that reason?” + +No one could give any reply. + +“I fear what I am about to say,” he continued, “will startle you all. +Redwald is a member of the family himself.” + +“A member of the family!” + +“Yes. Is there any one present who remembers the unhappy brother of our +late lamented lord—Oswald, the son of Offa?” + +“Yes,” said the old chamberlain, “I remember him well; and I see now +what you mean.” + +“Is not the expression of the face identical? Are they not the same +features, as one might say?” + +“Yet Redwald is much darker.” + +“Because his mother was Danish, and he has inherited some of her +peculiarities, that is all.” + +“Still,” said the steward, “every one supposed that the unhappy Oswald +perished at sea with his son. Never shall I forget the grief of the old +thane Offa, when inquiring for the son, he learned that he had gone +with the father to his death. He would have adopted him.” + +“And do we not,” added a Benedictine, “say a mass daily at St. +Wilfred’s altar for the souls of Oswald and his son Ragnar?” + +“Oswald may be dead; Ragnar yet lives in Redwald. The name alone is +changed.” + +“But where are the proofs? We cannot wholly trust an imaginary +resemblance.” + +“It is not imaginary; and these are the proofs in question. The night +after the murder” (all looked at each other as if a sudden inspiration +struck them), “as I was going to the chapel from the lady Edith’s +apartments, I passed through a passage little used, but leading past +the chamber allotted to Redwald, and only separated by a thin +wainscoting. I was startled as I passed it by the sound of a pacing to +and fro; an incessant pacing; and I heard the inmate of the room +soliloquising with himself as in a state of frenzied feeling. I caught +only broken words but again and again I heard ‘Avenged;’ and once +‘Father you are avenged;’ and once ‘Little do they know who is their +guest;’ once ‘It is a good beginning,’ and such like ejaculations. I +remained a long time, because, as you will all see, the murderer stood +revealed.” + +“Then why did you not tell us before?” exclaimed all, almost in a +breath. + +“Because it would have been of no avail. Had there been the least +chance of calling him to account, I should, you may be sure, have +proclaimed his guilt. But early in the morning fresh forces began to +arrive to his aid. My only endeavour was to get the lady Edith and her +remaining children safe from the castle; and it was only by dissembling +my feelings, by talking face to face with the man of blood, by +pretending to trust him, that I could succeed. Had he not thought us +all perfectly satisfied, he would never have left the hall to go +foraging in person; and now all would be well, but for this sad, sad +chance, which has placed the poor lad Elfric in his power.” + +“But,” said Alfred, “this makes the case worse than ever. Poor Elfric! +they will kill him. Oh, can this be Ragnar?” + +The Benedictines expressed themselves convinced, because the +supposition explained the present circumstances so clearly, and +accounted for that hitherto unaccountable circumstance—the murder. The +steward and chamberlain both fancied they recognised the family +likeness; and so the solution at which Father Cuthbert had arrived was +accepted by all. + +The question was now what course to adopt, for the night was fast +wearing away. + +“Two things are to be done,” said Father Cuthbert. “The first is to +secure the safety of the lady Edith and her children from any sudden +attack from the castle, to which effect I propose holding all the +vassals in arms; and, in case of any force leaving the hall, I purpose +giving the lady Edith and her daughter instant sanctuary in the priory, +while the vassals gather round its precincts; for, I fear me, this +Ragnar is a heathen, and would but little respect the house of God.” + +“Could we not attack the hall and release Elfric? Think of Elfric,” +said Alfred. + +“It would be madness; Redwald has more than a hundred and fifty men of +war within it. The place is full; we could not attack with the least +chance of success. No: the second thing I meant to propose was this, +that we should send an instant message to King Edgar, who is near at +hand, and explain the whole circumstances to him. He has many causes of +enmity against Redwald, and would probably come to our aid at once, as +the safety of his realm would require him to do eventually.” + +“Let me be the messenger; he will surely listen to the pleadings of a +brother for a brother.” + +“I had so designed,” said Father Cuthbert; “and in order that no chance +may be thrown away, I will adventure myself in the lion’s den, and +threaten with the penalties of excommunication this vindictive Redwald +or Ragnar.” + +“No, father; you will never come out alive. No, no!” said they all. + +The last proposal was universally discouraged. Redwald had already +special cause of enmity against Father Cuthbert, who had robbed him of +part of his destined prey; and it was ultimately settled that Father +Swithin, another of the order, should be charged with the mission, with +the power to make conciliatory offers, or to act on the other course as +he should see fit; in short, to use all his wit for Elfric. + +Alfred did not delay a moment unnecessarily, but in the dawning light +set forward to seek Edgar, of whom he had no definite information, but +who was believed to linger in the neighbourhood of the battlefield, +holding council with earls and thanes as to the further steps to be +taken, and receiving the submission of the whole Mercian, East Anglian, +and Northumbrian nobility. + +Therefore, mounted upon a good steed, and accompanied by Oswy, he +rapidly traversed the country over which his brother had been so +painfully borne; slowly, however, in places, for here and there large +tracts of swamp obstructed the way, and in other places the thickets +were dense and impervious; even where the country was cultivated the +unpaved roads were rough and hazardous for riders. + +It was past the hour of nones, the ninth hour of the day, when the +riders reached the battlefield, which still bore frightful traces of +the recent combat; reddened with blood, which had left its dark traces +on large patches of the ground, and encumbered with the bodies of +horses and men which had not yet found sepulture, although bands of +theows from the neighbouring estates were busily engaged in the +necessary toil, excavating huge pits, and placing the dead—no longer +rivals—reverently and decently in their last long home. Several wolves +could be discerned, hanging about under the skirts of the forest, but +not daring to come out into the plain while the day lasted and the men +were about; whole flocks of ravenous birds flew about the scene, now +settling down on the spots where the strife had been hottest, now +soaring away when disturbed in their sickening feast. + +It was the first time Alfred had ever gazed upon a battlefield; and now +he saw it stripped of all the romance and glamour which bards had +thrown over it, and the sight appalled him. + +He drew near a large pit into which the thralls were casting the dead. +Many of the bodies presented, as we have already seen, a most ghastly +spectacle; and nearly all had begun to decompose. Mentally he thanked +God that Elfric, at least, was not there; and he turned aside his head +in horror at the sight. + +He now inquired of the foreman of the labourers whether he knew where +the Etheling Edgar would be. + +“You mean King Edgar, for the Mercians will acknowledge no other king. +The people of Wessex may keep the enemy of the saints, if they like.” + +“King Edgar, I mean. Where is he now?” + +“He has been holding a council at Tamworth town, in the old palace of +King Offa; and they say all the tributary kings have come there to be +his men, and all the great earls.” + +“Can you tell me the nearest road to Tamworth?” + +“Why, it lies through the forest there, where you see those wolves +lurking about. They will begin to be dangerous when the sun goes down, +and perhaps some of them would not mind a snap at a horse or even a +man, now.” + +“We must take our chance;” said Alfred: “life and death hang on our +speed,” and he and Oswy rode on. + +The wolves were no longer seen. In the summer they generally avoided +men, at least during the day, and they were gradually becoming more +uncommon at that date. Alfred entertained little fear as he proceeded, +until the darkening shadows showed that night was near, and they were +still in the heart of the forest, when he began to feel alarmed. The +road before them was a good wide woodland path, and easy to follow even +in the gathering darkness. + +Suddenly their horses started violently, as a loud howl was heard +behind, and repeated immediately from different quarters of the forest. + +Alfred felt that it was the gathering of the ferocious beasts, which +had been attracted from distant forests by the scent of the +battlefield, and had thus happened to lie in increased numbers around +their path. The howling continued to increase, and their horses sped +onward as if mad with fear—it was all they could do to guide them +safely. + +Nearer and nearer drew the fearful sound; and looking back they beheld +the fiery eyes swarming along the road after them. They had begun to +abandon hope, when all at once they heard the sound of advancing +horsemen in front of them, accompanied by the clank of arms. The wolves +heard it too, and with all the cunning cowardice of their race +scampered away from their intended prey, just as Alfred and Oswy +avoided impaling themselves upon the lances of the coming deliverers. + +“Whom have we here, riding at this pace through the woods?” cried out a +rough, manly voice. + +“The wolves were after the poor fellows,” said another. + +“They may speak for themselves,” said the leader, confronting Alfred. +“Art thou a Mercian and a friend of King Edgar? Under which king? +Speak, or die!” + +“I seek King Edgar. My name is Alfred, son of Ella of Æscendune.” + +“Who sheltered the men of Wessex, and entertained the impious Edwy in +his castle.” + +“We had no power to resist had we wished to do so.” + +“Which you evidently did not. May a plain soldier ask you now why you +seek King Edgar?” + +“Because,” said Alfred, “my father has been murdered, and my brother +made a prisoner by Redwald, the captain of King Edwy’s hus-carles, who +holds our house, and has driven us all out.” + +“Your father murdered! Your family expelled! Your brother a prisoner! +These are strange news.” + +“Why this delay!” cried another speaker, riding up from behind. “The +king is impatient to get on. Ride faster.” + +“The king!” cried Alfred. “Oh, lead me to him.” + +“Who is this,” demanded the second officer, “who demands speech of the +royal Edgar?” + +“Alfred of Æscendune. He tells us that the infamous Redwald holds the +fortified house there, has murdered the thane Ella, and expelled the +family, save the brother, whom he holds to ransom.” + +“No, not to ransom,” cried Alfred. “It is his life that is threatened. +Oh, take me to Edgar!” + +“He is close behind, in company with the Ealdorman of Mercia and Siward +of Northumbria.” + +“Stay behind with him, Biorn, and let us continue our route. You may +introduce him to the king, if he will see him.” + +The first party—the advance guard—now passed on, and was succeeded +almost immediately by the main body, foremost amongst whom rode Prince +or rather King Edgar, then only a youth of fifteen years of age. We +last beheld him a boy of twelve, at the date of Elfric’s arrival at the +court of Edred. By his side rode Siward, Ealdorman of Northumbria. + +“Who is this?” cried the latter, as he saw Alfred and his attendant +waiting to receive him. + +“Alfred of Æscendune, with a petition for aid against Redwald, who has +seized his father’s castle.” + +“Alfred of Æscendune!” cried Edgar. “Halt, my friends, one moment. +Alfred of Æscendune, tell me your story; to me, Edgar, your king.” + +Alfred hastened to pour his tale of sorrows into an ear evidently not +unsympathising, and when he had concluded Edgar asked —“And tell me +what is your request. It shall be granted even to the uttermost.” + +“Only that you, my lord, would hasten to our aid and deliver my brother +for his poor widowed mother’s sake.” + +“We should send a troop against Redwald in any case, but even had our +plans been otherwise, know this, Alfred of Æscendune, that he who by +his devoted service saved the life, or at least the liberty, of +Dunstan, the light of our realm of England, and the favourite of +heaven, has a claim to ask any favour Edgar can grant. + +“Siward, my father, bid the advanced guard bend its course towards +Æscendune at once.” + +“My lord, the men are too weary to travel all night. We had purposed +halting when we reached the battlefield on our march southward. There +is a cross-country road thence to Æscendune, almost impassable in the +night.” + +“Then we will travel early in the morning; and doubt not, Alfred, we +shall arrive in time to chastise this insolent aggressor. Redwald has +been my poor brother’s evil spirit in all things; he shall die, I swear +it,” said the precocious Edgar, a man before his time. + +“But, my lord,” said Alfred, “may I ask but one favour, that you will +permit me to proceed and relieve the anxiety of my people with the +tidings of your approach?” + +“If you must leave our side, such an errand would seem to justify you. +Poor Elfric! I remember him well. I could not have thought him in any +danger from Redwald.” + +“Redwald is his, is our bitterest foe.” + +“Indeed,” said Edgar, and proceeded to elicit the whole history of the +case from Alfred. + +The sad tale was not complete till they reached the battlefield, and +encamped in the entrenchments the young prince had occupied the night +before the combat. + +“We had intended,” said Edgar, “to march at once for London, owing to +news we have received from the south, but we will tarry at Æscendune +until the work is completed there, even if it cost us our crown. + +“Nay, Siward, I may have my way this once. I am soldier enough to know +I may not leave an enemy behind me on my march.” + +“But a small detachment might accomplish the work.” + +“Then I will go with it myself; my heart is in it. But, Alfred, you +look very ill; you cannot proceed tonight. When did you sleep last?” + +“Three nights ago.” + +“Then it would be madness to proceed; you must sleep, and at early dawn +you shall precede us on my own charger—which has been led all the +way—if your own is too wearied, and with an attendant or two in case of +danger from man or beast. Nay, it must be so.” + +Alfred, who could scarcely stand for very fatigue, was forced to yield, +and that night he slept soundly in the camp of Edgar. At the first dawn +they aroused him from sleep, and he found a splendid warhorse awaiting +him—a gift, they told him, from Edgar. Two attendants, well mounted, +awaited him in company with Oswy. He would willingly have dispensed +with their company; but he was told that the king, anxious for his +safety, had insisted upon their attending him, and that they were +answerable for his safe return to Æscendune, the country being +considered dangerous for travellers in its present disturbed state. + +So he yielded; and before the king had arisen he left the camp, after a +hasty meal, and rode as rapidly as the roads would permit towards his +desolated home. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. +LOVE STRONG AS DEATH. + + +Meanwhile Father Swithin had gone alone and unprotected, save by his +sacred character, into the very jaws of the lion; or rather, would have +gone, had he been suffered to do so; for when he approached the hall he +found the drawbridge up, and the whole place guarded as in a state of +siege. + +He advanced, nothing daunted, in front of the yawning gap where the +bridge should have been, and cried aloud—“What ho! porter; I demand +speech of my lord Redwald.” + +“You may demand speech—swine may demand pearls—but I don’t think you +will get it. Deliver me your message.” + +“Tell your lord, rude churl, that I, Father Swithin, of the holy Order +of St. Benedict, have come, in the name of the rightful owners of this +house, and in the power of the Church, to demand that he deliver up +Elfric of Æscendune to the safe keeping of his friends.” + +“I will send your message; but keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Sir +Monk, and don’t begin muttering any of your accursed Latin, or I will +see whether the Benedictine frock is proof against an arrow.” + +In a short time Redwald appeared on the roof, above the gateway. + +“What dost thou require, Sir Monk?” said he; “thy words sound strange +in my ears.” + +“I am come, false traitor,” said Father Swithin, waxing wroth, “to +demand the person of Elfric of Æscendune, whom thou detainest contrary +to God’s law and the king’s.” + +“Elfric of Æscendune! right glad am I to hear that he is alive; my +followers have brought me word that they saw him fall in battle.” + +“Nay, spare thy deceit, thou son of perdition, for well do we know that +he was brought home wounded last night. One of his bearers escaped thy +toils, even as a bird the snare of the fowler, and is now with us.” + +“Assuredly the loon has lied unto you. Rejoiced should I be to see the +unhappy youth, and to know that he yet lived. I but hold this place, +faithful to his lord and mine, Edwy, King of all England.” + +“Then why hast thou expelled the rightful dwellers therein from their +house and home? We know Elfric is with thee, and that thou art a +traitor, wherefore, deliver him up, or we will even excommunicate +thee.” + +“Thou hadst better not begin in the hearing of the men who sit upon the +wall; for myself, excommunication cannot hurt a man who never goes to +church, and does not company over much with those who do.” + +“Infidel! heretic! pagan! misbeliever! accursed Ragnar!” began the +irate monk, when an arrow, perhaps only meant to frighten him (for they +could hardly have missed so fair a mark), glanced by him. + +He retreated, but still continued his maledictions. + +“_Excommunicabo te, et omnes tibi adhærentes_; thou art an accursed +parricide, who hast raised thine hand against thy father’s house. _Vade +retro, Sathanas_, I will shake off the dust of my feet against +thee,”—another arrow stuck in his frock—“thou shalt share the fate of +Sodom, yea of Gomorrha; _in manus inimici trado te_;” by this time his +words were inaudible; and he departed, not having accomplished much +good, but having nevertheless informed Redwald of two great facts—the +first, that Elfric’s return was blazed abroad; the second, that his own +identity was more than suspected. + +“Ragnar!” said he, “What fiend has told them that? how came they to +suspect? Confusion! it will foil all my plans, and my vengeance will be +incomplete. At least this one victim must not escape, and yet I had +sooner he should escape than any other member of the house. Poor boy! +the sins of the fathers are heavy upon the children, as these +Christians have it; but my oath, my oath taken before a dying father! +no; he must die!” + +So spake the avenger of blood, a man whose heart was evidently not all +of iron; yet from childhood had he striven to restrain every tender +impulse, and had bound himself to vengeance. Long years of peace in +England had come between him and the execution of his projects, and he +had prepared himself for the task he never lost sight of, by acquiring +all the accomplishments of a knight and warrior, and even of a man of +letters, at that court of Rouen, now rapidly becoming the focus of +European chivalry, where the fierce barbarian Northmen were becoming +the refined but ruthless Normans. Then, in England, he had wormed +himself into the confidence of the future king with singular +astuteness, and at length had found the occasion he had long sought, in +a manner the most unforeseen save as a possible contingency. + +And now he turned from the battlements to his own chamber, but on the +way he paused, for he passed the door of the late thane’s room, where +poor Elfric lay. He passed the sentinel and entered. The unhappy boy +was extended on the bed, in a raging fever; ever and anon he called +piteously upon his father, then he cried out that Dunstan was pursuing +him, driving him into the pit, then he cried—“Father, I did not murder +thee; not I, thy son! nay, I always loved thee in my heart. Who is +laughing? it is not Dunstan; break his chamber open, slay him: is a +monk’s blood redder than a peasant’s? O Elgiva hast thou slain my +father? See, I am all on fire; it is thy doing. Edwy, my king, Dunstan +is burning me: save me!” + +Then there was a long pause, and Redwald or Ragnar as we may now call +him stood over his unhappy cousin. The fair head lay back on the +pillow, with its profusion of golden locks; the face was red and fiery, +the eyes weak and bloodshot. + +“Water! water! I burn!” he said. + +There was no cooling medicine to alleviate the burning throat, no +gentle hand to smooth the pillow, no mother to render the sweet offices +of maternal love, no father to whisper forgiveness to the dying boy. + +“Better he should die thus,” said Ragnar, “since I cannot spare him +without breaking my oath to the dead.” + +Then he left the room hastily, as if he feared his own resolution. The +sentinel looked imploringly at him, as the cries of the revellers came +from below. + +“Go!” said Ragnar, “join thy companions; no sentinel is required here. +Go and feast; I will come and join you.” + +So he tried to drown his new-born pity in wine. + +At a late hour of the day, Alfred and his attendants arrived, bringing +news of the coming succour to Father Cuthbert and the other friends who +awaited him with much anxiety. They had contrived to account for his +absence to the lady Edith, from whom they thought it necessary to hide +the true state of affairs. + +But everything tended to increase Alfred’s feverish anxiety about his +brother. The relieving force could not arrive for hours; meanwhile he +knew not what to do. No tidings were heard: Father Swithin had failed +and Elfric might perhaps even now be dead. + +So Alfred, taking counsel only of his own brave, loving heart, left the +priory in the dusk, attended by the faithful Oswy, and walked towards +his former home. The night was dark and cloudy, the moon had not yet +arisen, and they were close upon the hall ere they saw its form looming +though the darkness. Neither spoke, but they paused before the +drawbridge and listened. + +Sounds of uproarious mirth arose from within; Danish war songs, +shouting and cheering; the whole body of the invaders were evidently +feasting and revelling with that excess, of which in their leisure +moments they were so capable. + +“It is well!” said Alfred; and they walked round the exterior of the +moat, marking the brightly lighted hall and the unguarded look of the +place; yet not wholly unguarded, for they saw the figure of a man +outlined against a bright patch of sky, pacing the leaded roof, +evidently on guard. + +And now they had reached that portion of their circuit which led them +opposite the chamber window of the lamented Ella, and Alfred gazed +sadly upon it, when both he and Oswy started as they heard cries and +moans, and sometimes articulate words, proceeding therefrom. + +They listened eagerly, and caught the name “Dunstan,” as if uttered in +vehement fear, then the cry. “Water! I burn!” and cry after cry, as if +from one in delirium. + +“It is Elfric! it is Elfric!” said Alfred. + +“It is my young lord’s voice,” said the thrall; “he is in a fever from +his wound.” + +“What can we do?” and Alfred walked impatiently to and fro; at last he +stopped. + +“Oswy! if it costs me my life I will enter the castle!” + +“It shall cost my life too, then. I will live and die with my lord!” + +“Come here, Oswy; they do not know the little postern door hidden +behind those bushes; the passage leads up to the chapel, and to the +gallery leading to my father’s chamber, where Elfric lies dying. I +remember that that door was left unlocked, and perhaps I can save him. +They are all feasting like hogs; they will not know, and if Ragnar meet +me, why, he or I must die;” and he put his hand convulsively upon the +sword which was dependent from his girdle. + +“Lead on, my lord; you will find your thrall ready to live or die with +you!” said Oswy. + +At the extreme angle of the building there was a large quantity of +holly bushes which grew out of the soil between the moat and the wall, +which itself was clothed with the thickest ivy; the roof above was +slanting—an ordinary timber roof covering the chapel —so that no +sentinel could be overhead. Standing on the further side of the moat, +all this and no more could be observed. + +The first difficulty was how to cross the moat in the absence of either +bridge or boat. It was true they might swim over; but in the event of +their succeeding in the rescue of Elfric, how were they to bear him +back? The difficulty had to be overcome, and they reflected a moment. + +“There is a small boat down at the ferry,” whispered Oswy. + +It was all Alfred needed, and he and Oswy at once started for the +river. They returned in a few minutes, bearing a light boat, almost +like a British coracle, on which they instantly embarked, and a push or +two with the pole sent them noiselessly across the moat. + +They landed, made fast the boat, and searched in the darkness for the +door; it was an old portal, almost disused, for it was only built that +there might be a retreat in any such pressing emergency as might easily +arise in those unsettled times; the holly bushes in front, and the +thick branches of dependent ivy, concealed its existence from any +person beyond the moat, and it had not even been seen by the watchful +eye of Ragnar. + +Alfred, however, had but recently made use of the door, when seeking +bunches of holly wherewith to deck the board on the occasion of the +feast given to King Edwy, and he had omitted to relock it on his +return, an omission which now seemed to him of providential +arrangement. + +He had, therefore, only to turn the rusty latch as noiselessly as might +be, and the door slowly opened. The key was in the lock, on the inside. + +Entering cautiously, taking off their heavy shoes and leaving them in +the doorway, they ascended a flight of steps which terminated in front +of a door which entered the chapel underneath the bell cot, while +another flight led upwards to the gallery, from which all the principal +chambers on the first floor opened. + +Arriving at this upper floor, Alfred listened intently for one moment, +and hearing only the sounds of revelry from beneath, he opened the door +gently, and saw the passage lie vacant before him. + +He passed along it until he came to the door of his father’s chamber, +feeling the whole time that his life hung on a mere thread, upon the +chance that Ragnar and his warriors might remain out of the way, and +that no one might be near to raise the alarm. With nearly two hundred +inmates this was but a poor chance, but Alfred could dare all for his +brother. He committed himself, therefore, to God’s protection, and went +firmly on till he reached the door. + +He opened it with trembling eagerness, and the whole scene as we have +already described it was before him. Elfric sat up in the bed, uttering +the cries which had pierced the outer air. When Alfred entered he did +not seem to know him, but saluted him as “Dunstan.” His cries had +become too familiar to the present inmates of the hall for this to +attract attention. Alfred closed the door. + +“It is I, Elfric!—I, your brother Alfred!” + +Elfric stared vacantly, then fell back on the pillow: a moment only +passed, and then it was evident that an interval of silence had begun, +during which the patient only moaned. The noise from those who were +feasting in the hall beneath, which communicated with the gallery by a +large staircase, was loud and boisterous as ever. + +A step was heard approaching. + +Alfred took Oswy by the arm, and they both retired behind the tapestry, +which concealed a small recess, where garments were usually suspended. + +The heavy step entered the room, and its owner was evidently standing +beside the bed gazing upon the couch. There he remained stationary for +some minutes, and again left the room. It was not till the last sound +had died away that Alfred and Oswy ventured to leave their concealment. + +The silence still continued, save that it was sometimes broken by the +patient’s moans. + +“Take and wrap these clothes round him; we must preserve him from the +night air;” and they wrapped the blankets around him; then Oswy, who +was very strongly built, took the light frame of Elfric in his arms, +and they left the room. + +One moment of dread suspense—the passage was clear—a minute more would +have placed them in safety, when the paroxysm returned upon the +unfortunate Elfric. + +“Help, Edwy! Redwald, help! Dunstan has seized me, and is bearing me to +the fire! I burn! help, I burn!” + +Alfred groaned in his agony; the shrieking voice had been uttered just +as they passed the staircase leading down to the hall. Up rushed +Ragnar, followed by several of his men, and started back in amazement +as he beheld Alfred and Oswy with their burden. Alfred drew his sword +to dispute the passage, but was overpowered in a moment. Ragnar himself +attacked Oswy, who was forced to relinquish his burden. All was lost. + +Another moment and Ragnar confronted his prisoners. Elfric had been +carried back to his bed. Alfred and Oswy stood before him, their arms +bound behind them, in the great hall, while the soldiers retired at a +signal a short distance from them. + +“What has brought you here?” + +“To deliver my brother.” + +“To share his fate, you mean. Know you into whose hands you have +fallen?” + +“Yes; into those of my cousin Ragnar.” + +“Then you know what mercy to expect.” + +“I came prepared to share my brother’s fate.” + +“And you shall share it. It must be the hand of fate which has placed +you both in my power, me, the representative of the rightful lord of +Æscendune, dispossessed by your father, and being myself the legitimate +heir.” + +“We do not dispute your title; give my brother his life and liberty, +and take all; we have never injured you.” + +“All would be nothing without vengeance; you appeal in vain to me. Did +I wish to spare you I could not; an oath, a fearful oath, binds me, +taken to one from whom I derived life, one whose death was far more +agonising and lingering than yours shall be.” + +“Let us at least die together.” + +“Do you scorn the company of your thrall in death?” + +“God forbid! + +“Oswy, you have given your life for us; we die in company. God protect +my poor mother, my poor childless mother! She will be alone!” + +“You shall die together as you desire.” + +He addressed a few words in an unknown tongue to his men; his face was +now pale as death, his lips compressed as of one who has taken a +desperate resolution. + +“Retire to your brother’s chamber again. You will not compel me to use +force?” + +They retired up the stairs; Ragnar followed, two or three of his men at +a respectful distance from him. + +They re-entered the chamber; Ragnar followed and stood before them. + +“I will grant you all that is in my power; you shall all die together, +and you may tend your brother to the last.” + +“What shall be the manner of our death?” asked Alfred, who was very +calm, fearfully calm. + +“You will soon discover; my hand shall not be upon you, or red with +your blood. Believe me, I am, like you, the victim of stern necessity, +although I am the avenger, you the victims.” + +“You cannot thus deceive yourself, or shake off the guilt of murder; +our father’s blood is upon you. You will answer for this, for him and +for us, at the judgment seat.” + +“I am willing to do so, if there be a judgment seat whereat to answer. +I had a father, too, who was condemned to a lingering death, by thirst, +hunger, and madness; I witnessed his agonies; I swore to avenge them. +You appeal to the memory of your father, who has perished a victim to +avenging justice; I appeal to that of mine. If there be a God, let Him +deliver you, and perhaps I will believe in Him. Farewell for ever!” + +He closed the door, and, with the aid of his men, securely fastened it +on the outside, so that no strength from within could open it; he +descended to the hall. + +“Warriors,” he said, “the moment I predicted has come; I have received +a warning that the usurper Edgar already marches against us; tomorrow, +at the latest, he will be here; before he arrives we shall be halfway +to Wessex. Let every one secure his baggage and his plunder, and let +the horses be all got ready for a forced march. We have eaten the last +feast that shall ever be eaten in these halls.” + +A few moments of bustle and confusion followed, and before half-an-hour +had expired all was ready, and the men-at-arms from without announced +that every horse—their own and those of the thane, to carry their +booty, the plunder of the castle—awaited them without. + +“Then,” said he, “listen, my men, to the final orders. _Fire the +castle, every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, the +outbuildings._ We will leave a pile of blackened embers for Edgar when +he comes; the halls where the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be +his, or entertain him as a guest.” + +A loud shout signified the alacrity with which his followers bent +themselves to the task; torches flashed in all directions, and in a few +moments the flames began to do their destroying work. + +An officer addressed Ragnar—“There are three thralls locked up in an +outbuilding, shall we leave them to burn?” + +“Nay; why should we grudge them their miserable lives; they have done +us no harm.” + +At that moment a loud cry of dire alarm was heard, the trampling of an +immense body of horse followed—a rush into the hall already filled with +smoke—loud outcries and shrieks from without. + +“What is the matter?” cried Ragnar. + +“The Mercians are upon us! the Mercians are upon us!” + +Ragnar rushed to the gateway, and a sight met his startled eyes he was +little prepared to behold. + +The clouds had been driven away by a fierce wind, the moon was shining +brightly, and revealed a mighty host surrounding the hall on every +side. Every horse before the gateway was driven away or seized, every +man who had not saved himself by instant retreat had been slain by the +advancing host; without orders the majority of his men had repassed the +moat, and had already raised the drawbridge against the foe, not +without the greatest difficulty. + +“Extinguish the fires which you have raised; let each man fight +fire—then we will fight the Mercians.” + +It was high time to fight fire, rather it was too late. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. +“VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY.” + + +When the door was finally closed upon the brothers and their faithful +thrall, Alfred did not give way to despair. The words of Ragnar, “If +there be a God, let Him deliver you,” had sunk deeply into his heart, +and had produced precisely the opposite effect to that which his cousin +had intended; it seemed as if his cause were thus committed to the +great Being in Whose Hand was the disposal of all things; as if His +Honour were at stake, Whom the murderer had so impiously defied. + +“‘If there be a God, let Him deliver you,’” repeated Alfred, and it +seemed to him as if a Voice replied, “Is My Arm shortened, that It +cannot save?” + +But how salvation was to come, and even in what mode danger was to be +expected, was unknown to them; nay, was even unguessed. They heard the +bustle below, which followed Ragnar’s announcement of his intended +departure from Æscendune. They heard the mustering of the horses—and at +last the conviction forced itself upon them that the foe were about to +evacuate the hall. But in that case, how would he inflict his sentence +upon his victims? + +The dread truth, the suspicion of his real intention, crept upon the +minds of both Alfred and Oswy. Elfric yet lay insensible, or seemingly +so, upon the bed, lost to all perception of his danger. Alfred sat at +the head of the bed, looking with brotherly love at the prostrate form +of him for whom he was giving his life; but feeling secretly grateful +that there was no painful struggle imminent in his case; that death +itself would come unperceived, without torturing forebodings. + +It was at this moment that Oswy, who stood by the window, which was +strongly barred, but which he had opened, for the night was +oppressively warm, caught the faint and distant sound of a mighty host +advancing through the forest; at first it was very faint, and he only +heard it through the pauses in the storm of sound which attended +Ragnar’s preparations for departure, but it soon became more distinct, +and he turned to Alfred. + +“Listen, my lord, they come to our aid; listen, I hear the army of +Edgar.” + +Alfred rushed to the window, the hope of life strong within him; at +first he could hear nothing for the noise below, but at length there +was a lull in the confusion, and then he heard distinctly the sound of +the coming deliverers. Another minute, and he saw the dark lines +leaving the shadow of the forest, and descending the hill in serried +array, then deploying, as if to surround a foe in stealthy silence; he +looked around for the object, and beheld Ragnar’s forces all +unconscious of their danger, not having heard the approach in their own +hasty preparations for departure. Another moment of dread suspense, +like that with which the gazer watches the dark thundercloud before the +lightning’s flash. A moment of dread silence—during which some orders, +given loudly below, forced themselves upon him: + +“Fire the castle, every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, the +outbuildings; we will leave a pile of blackened ruins for Edgar when he +comes; the halls where the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be +his, or entertain him as guest.” + +Meanwhile, the dark forces, unseen by the destroyers, were still +surrounding the castle, deploying on all sides to surround it as in a +net; for they saw the intention of their victims, and meant to cut off +all chance of escape. + +But the position of the brothers seemed as perilous as ever—for how +could Edgar’s troops rescue them if the place were once on fire? Alfred +gazed with pallid face upon Oswy, but met only a resigned helpless +glance in return. + +Yet, even at this moment of awful suspense, a voice seemed to whisper +in his ear, “Stand still, and see the salvation of God.” + +“Oswy,” he exclaimed, “we shall not die—I feel sure that God will save +us!” + +“It must be soon then,” replied Oswy; “soon, my lord, for they have +already set the place on fire, just beneath us; can you not smell the +smoke?” + +Just at that moment came the war cry of the Mercians, and the charge we +have already described. + +It was during the following few minutes, while Ragnar and all his men +were vainly striving to extinguish the conflagration they had +raised—for the dry timber of which the hall was chiefly built had taken +fire like matchwood—it was while the friends without were preparing to +attack, that a sudden change came over the patient. + +“Alfred, my brother!” + +Alfred looked round in surprise; consciousness had returned, and the +face was calm and possessed as his own. + +“Elfric, my dear Elfric!” + +“What does all this mean? How came I here? What makes this smoke?” + +“We are in danger, great danger; prisoners in our own house, which they +have set on fire.” + +“I remember now—is not this our dear father’s room?” + +“Yes; we are prisoners in it, they have barred the door upon us.” + +“But they cannot bar us in: there is another door, Alfred; one my +father once pointed out to me, but told me to keep its existence a +secret, as it always had been kept. Who are without?” + +“The Mercians, Edgar’s army, come to deliver us; if we can reach them, +we are safe.” + +“I thought they were our foes, but all seems strange now. Alfred, lift +up the tapestry which conceals the recess where dear father’s armour +hung.” + +Alfred complied. + +“Now, just where the breastplate hung you will find a round knob of +wood like a peg.” + +“Yes, it is here.” + +“Push it hard—no, harder.” + +Alfred did so, and a concealed door flew open; he stepped through it +with a cry of joy, and found himself on the staircase leading up from +the postern gate by which he had entered, just below the closed door +which led into the gallery above. + +“God be thanked! we are saved—saved. Elfric! + +“Oswy, take him in your arms, quick! quick! I lead the way, and will +get the boat ready—door open and boat ready.” + +It was all the work of a moment; they were on the private staircase, +carrying Elfric, carefully wrapt up. The smoke had entered even here; +the next moment they were at the entrance. Happily the whole attention +of Ragnar was concentrated on self preservation. + +One more minute, and Elfric was placed in the coracle. The Mercians on +the further bank now observed them, and at first, not knowing them, +seemed disposed to treat them as foes; when Oswy cried aloud, “Spare +your arrows; it is Elfric of Æscendune;” and they crowded to the bank +joyfully, for the purpose of the attack was known to all, and now they +saw its object placed beyond the reach of further risk of failure. + +The coracle touched the further bank; a dozen willing hands assisted +them up the slope. And amidst shouts of vociferous joy and triumph they +were conducted to King Edgar, who hastened towards the scene with +Siward. + +“Now, let the castle burn, let it burn,” said Oswy. + +“Alfred, is it you?” exclaimed the young king; “just escaped from the +flames! How came you there? and this is Elfric; you have saved him.” + +“God has delivered us.” + +“But you have been the instrument; you must tell me all another time, +get him into shelter quickly. + +“Here, men, bear him to the priory, while we stay to do our duty here. + +“Alfred, you must not linger.” + +“One favour, my lord and king; show mercy to Ragnar, to Redwald, you +know not how sad his story has been.” + +“Leave that to me; he shall have all he deserves;” and Alfred was +forced to be content. + +At this moment, aroused by the shouts of joy, Ragnar, forgetting even +his danger, rushed to the roof. There he saw a crowd surrounding some +object of their joy; in the darkness of the night he could not +distinguish more, but the cry, “Long live Alfred of Æscendune!” arose +spontaneously from the crowd, just as the brothers departed. Faint with +toil as he was, his heart beating wildly with apprehension, he rushed +to the chamber through smoke and flame, for the tongues of fire were +already licking the staircase. He withdrew the bars, he rushed in, the +room was empty. + +“It is magic, sorcery, witchcraft,” he groaned. + +But the remembrance of his last words, of his scornful defiance of God, +came back to him, and with it a conviction that he had indeed lifted up +his arm against the Holy One. He felt a sickening feeling of horror and +despair rush upon him, when loud cries calling him from beneath aroused +him. + +“We must charge through them; we cannot burn here; we must die fighting +sword in hand, it is all that is left.” + +Not one voice spoke of surrender amongst those fierce warriors, or of +seeking mercy. + +It was indeed high time, for all efforts to extinguish the flames had +proved vain; every part of the castle was on fire; the fiery element +streamed from the lower windows, and curled upwards around the towers; +it crackled and hissed in its fury, and the atmosphere became unfit to +breathe; it was like inhaling flame. Sparks flew about in all +directions, dense stifling smoke filled every room. Not a man remained +in the hall, when Redwald rushed down the gallery, holding his breath, +for the hot air scorched the lungs; when, just as he arrived, the +staircase fell with a huge crash, and the flames shot up in his face, +igniting hair and beard, and scorching his flesh. He rushed back to the +opposite end of the passage, only to meet another blast of fire and +smoke—for they had ignited the hall in twenty places at once; they had +done their work all too well. He rushed to the room he had left, shut +the door for a moment’s respite from flame and smoke, and then, +springing at the window, strove to tear the bars down, but all in vain. + +“There must be some egress. How did they escape? How could they +escape?” he cried; and he sought in vain for the exit, for they had +closed the door again, and he knew not where to look; in vain he lifted +the tapestry, he could not discover the secret; and at last, +overpowered by the heat, he sprang again to the window, and drank in +deep draughts of fresh cool air to appease the burning feeling in his +throat. + +Crash! crash! part of the roof had given way, and the whole chamber +trembled; then a single tongue of flame shot up through the floor, then +another; the door had caught outside. Even in that moment he beheld his +men, his faithful followers, madly seeking death from the swords of the +foe; they had lowered the drawbridge, and dashed out without a leader. + +“Would I were with them!” he cried. “Oh, to die like this!” + +“Behold,” cried a voice without, “he hath digged and graven a pit, and +is fallen himself into the destruction he made for others.” + +It was Father Swithin, who had observed the face at the window, and who +raised the cry which now drew all the enemy to gaze upon him, for they +had no longer a foe to destroy. + +The flames now filled the room, but still he clung to the window, and +thus protracted his torments; his foes, even the stern monk, could but +pity him now, so marred and blackened was his visage, so agonised his +lineaments; like, as they said, the rude pictures of the lost, where +the last judgment was painted on the walls of the churches. Yet he +uttered no cry, he had resolved to die bravely; all was lost now. +Another moment, and those who watched saw the huge beams which +supported the building bend and quiver; then the whole framework +collapsed, and with a sound like thunder the roof tumbled in, and the +unhappy Ragnar was buried in the ruin; while the flames from his +funeral pyre rose to the very heavens, and the smoke blotted the stars +from view. + +“Even so,” said the monk, solemnly, “let Thine enemies perish, O Lord, +but let them that love Thee be as the sun, when he goeth forth in his +might.” + +But those were not wanting who could not sympathise with the stern +sentiment, remembering better and gentler lessons from the lips of the +great Teacher and Master of souls. + +“He has passed into the Hands of his God, there let us leave him,” said +Father Cuthbert, who had just arrived at the moment. “It is not for us +to judge a soul which has passed to the judgment seat, and is beyond +the sentence of men.” + +Meanwhile, they had borne Elfric first to the priory, for they judged +it not well that he should yet be brought to his mother; they feared +the sudden shock. Many of the good monks had studied medicine, for they +were in fact the healers both of soul and body throughout the district, +and they attended him with assiduous care. They put him to bed, they +gave him cordials which soon produced quiet sleep, and watched by him +for many hours. + +It was not till the day had far advanced that he awoke, greatly +refreshed, and saw Father Cuthbert and Alfred standing by him. They had +allayed the fever, bound up the wound, which was not in itself +dangerous, and he looked more like himself than one could have imagined +possible. + +And now they thought they might venture to summon the lady Edith; and +Alfred broke the intelligence to her, for she knew not the events of +the night. + +“Mother,” he said; “we have news of Elfric, both bad and good, to tell +you.” + +“He lives then,” she said; “he lives!” + +“Yes, lives, and is near; but he was wounded badly in the battle.” + +“I must go to him,” she said, and arose, forgetting all possible +obstacles in a mother’s love. + +“He is near at hand, in the priory; you will find him much changed, but +they say he will do well.” + +She shook like an aspen leaf, and threw her garments around her with +nervous earnestness. + +“Come, mother, take my arm.” + +“O Alfred, may I not come, too?” said little Edgitha. + +“Yes, you may come too;” and they left the house. + +Elfric heard them approach, and sat up in his bed, Father Cuthbert +supporting him with his arm; while another visitor, Edgar himself, +stood at the head of the bed, but retired to give place to the mother, +as if he felt no stranger could then intrude, when the widow clasped +her prodigal to her loving breast. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. +SOW THE WIND, AND REAP THE WHIRLWIND. + + +When Alfred rebuilt the city of Winchester, after it had been burned by +the Danes, he erected a royal palace, which became a favourite retreat +of his successors. + +Here the unhappy Edwy retired after his defeat, to find consolation in +the company of Elgiva. Indeed he needed it. Northumbria had followed +the example of Mercia, and acknowledged Edgar, and he had no dominions +left north of the Thames, while it was rumoured that worse news might +follow. + +In an inner chamber of the palace, and remote from intrusion, sat the +king and his chosen advisers. It was early in the year 958, a spring +day when the sun shone brightly and all things spoke of the coming +summer—the songs of the birds, the opening buds, the blossoming +orchards. + +But peace was banished from those who sat in that council chamber. Edwy +was strangely disturbed, his face was flushed, and he bore evidence of +the most violent agitation. + +“It must come to that at last, my king,” exclaimed Cynewulf, “or Wessex +will follow the example of Mercia.” + +“Better lose my crown then and become a subject, with a subject’s +liberty to love.” + +“A subject could never marry within the prohibited degree,” said a +grey-headed counsellor. + +“We have messengers from all parts of Wessex, from Kent, from Essex, +from Sussex, and they all unite in their demand that you should submit +to the Church, and put away (forgive me for repeating their words) your +concubine.” + +“Concubine!” said Edwy, and his cheek flushed, “she is my wife and your +queen.” + +“Pardon me, my liege, I did not make the word my own.” + +“You should not have dared to repeat it.” + +“If I dare, my lord, it is for your sake, and for our country, which is +dear to us all. Not an Englishman will acknowledge that your connection +is lawful; from Exeter to Canterbury the cry is the same—‘Let him +renounce Elgiva, and we will obey him; but we will not serve a king who +does not obey the voice of the Church or the laws of the land.’” + +“Laws of the land! The king is above the laws.” + +“Nay, my lord, he is bound to set the first example of obedience, chief +in that as in all things; an example to his people. Remember, my lord, +your coronation oath taken at Kingston three years ago.” + +Edwy flushed. “Is this a subject’s language?” + +“It is the language of one who loves his king too well to flatter him.” + +At this moment an usher of the court knocked at the door, and obtaining +permission to enter, stated that Archbishop Odo had arrived, and +demanded admission to the council. + +“I will not see him,” said the king. + +“My liege,” exclaimed Athelwold, the old grey-headed counsellor we have +mentioned, “permit one who loves you, as he loved your revered father, +to entreat you to cease from this hopeless resistance. If you refuse to +see him you are no longer a king.” + +“Then I will gladly abdicate.” + +“And become the scorn of Dunstan, and receive a retiring pension from +Edgar, and put your hand between his, kneeling humbly and saying ‘I am +your man.’” + +“No, no. Anything rather than that. Death first.” + +“All this may be averted with timely submission. Elgiva herself would +not counsel you to sacrifice all for her.” + +“O Athelwold, my father, the only one of my father’s counsellors who +has been faithful to his firstborn, what can I do? She is dearer to me +than life.” + +“But not than honour. You have both erred, both disobeyed the law of +the Church, both forgotten the example due from those in high places.” + +“Tell Odo to enter,” exclaimed Edwy. + +The archbishop was close at hand, patiently awaiting the answer to his +demand, yet determined, in case of a refusal, to take his pastoral +staff in his hand and enter the council room, announced or not. A more +determined priest had never occupied the primacy, yet he was benevolent +as determined, and, as we have mentioned, was known as Odo the Good +amongst the poor. Stern and unyielding to the vices of the rich, he was +gentle as a parent to the repentant sinner. + +He had pronounced, as we have seen, the lesser excommunication,xxxi in +consequence of Edwy’s refusal to put away Elgiva, immediately after the +coronation; since which the guilty pair had never communicated at the +altar, or even attended mass. Their lives had been practically +irreligious, nay idolatrous, for they had been gods to each other. + +And now, in the full pomp of the archiepiscopal attire, with the mitre +of St. Augustine on his head and the crozier in his hand, Odo advanced, +like one who felt his divine mission, to the centre of the room. His +cross bearer and other attendants remained in the antechamber. + +“What dost thou seek, rude priest?” said Edwy. + +“I am come in the Name of Him Whose laws thou hast broken, and speak to +thee as the Baptist to Herod. Put away this woman, for it is not lawful +for thee to have her.” + +“And would I could reply to thee as the holy fox Dunstan once informed +me Herod replied to the insolent Baptist, and send thine head on a +charger to Elgiva.” + +“My lord! my liege! my king! Remember his sacred office,” remonstrated +the counsellors. + +“Peace, my lords. His threats or his blandishments would alike fail to +move me. The blood of Englishmen slain in civil war—if indeed any are +found to fight for an excommunicate king—is that which I seek to avert. + +“In the Name of my Master, Whom thou hast defied, O king, I offer thee +thy choice. Thou must put away thy concubine, or thou shalt sustain the +greater excommunication, when it will become unlawful for Christian +people even to speak with thee, or wish thee God speed, lest they be +partakers of thy evil deeds.” + +“My lord, you must yield,” whispered Cynewulf. + +“Son of the noble Edmund, thou must save thy father’s name from +disgrace.” + +“I cannot, will not, do Elgiva this foul wrong. I tell thee, priest, +that if thy benediction has never been pronounced upon our union, we +are man and wife before heaven.” + +“I await your answer,” said Odo. “Am I to understand you choose the +fearful penalty of excommunication?” + +“Nay! nay! he does not; he cannot,” cried the counsellors. “Your +holiness!—father!—in the king’s name we yield!” + +“You are all cowards and traitors! Let him do what he will, I cannot +yield.” + +“Then, my lord king, I must proceed,” said Odo. “You have not only +acted wickedly in this matter, but you have misgoverned the people +committed to your charge, and broken every clause of your coronation +oath. First, you have not given the Church of God peace, or preserved +her from molestation, but have yourself ravaged her lands, and even +slain her servants with the sword; one, specially honoured of God, you +sought to slay, sending that wicked man, who has been called by fire to +his judgment, to execute your impious will.” + +“That holy fox Dunstan! Would Redwald had slain him!” muttered Edwy. + +“Secondly,” continued Odo, not heeding the interruption, “so far from +preventing thefts and fraud in all manner of men, you have maintained +notorious oppressors amongst your officers, and in your own person you +have broken the oath; for did you not even rob your aged grandmother, +and consume her substance in riotous living?” + +“What could the old woman do with it all?” + +“Thirdly, you have not maintained justice in your judicial proceedings, +but have spent all your time, like Rehoboam of old, with the young and +giddy, and in chastising your people with scorpions.” + +“Would I had a scorpion to chastise you! This is unbearable. + +“My lords and counsellors, have you not a word to say for me?” + +“Alas!” said Athelwold, “it is all too true; but give up Elgiva now, +and all will be well!” + +“It will be at least the beginning of reformation,” said Odo. + +“And the end, I suppose,” said Edwy, “will be that I shall shave my +head like a monk, banquet sumptuously upon herbs and water, spend +three-fourths of the day singing psalms through my nose, wear a hair +shirt, look as starved as a weasel, and at last, after sundry combats +with the devil, pinch his nose, and go off to heaven in all the odour +of sanctity. Go and preach all this to Edgar; I am not fool enough to +listen to it. You have got him to be your obedient slave and vassal; +you have bought him, body and soul, and the price has been Mercia, and +now you want to add Wessex. Well, I wish you joy of him, and him of you +all; for my part, if I could do it, I would restore the worship of Odin +and Thor, and offer you priests as bloody sacrifices to him: I would!” + +“Peace, my lord and king! peace! this is horrible,” said Athelwold. + +“Horrible!” said another. “He is possessed. My lord Odo, you had better +exorcise him.” + +But Edwy had given way—he was young—and burst into a passionate fit of +weeping, his royal dignity all forgotten. + +“Give him time! give him time, father!” said they all. + +“One day; he must then submit, or I must do my duty; I have no +choice—none,” replied the archbishop. + +And the council sadly broke up; but Athelwold sought a private +interview with Elgiva. + +It was the evening of the same day, and the fair Elgiva sat alone in +her apartment, into which the westering sun was casting his last beams +of liquid light; tears had stained her cheeks and reddened her eyes, +but she looked beautiful as ever, like the poet’s or painter’s +conception of the goddess of love. Around her were numerous evidences +of a woman’s delicate tastes, of tastes too in advance of her day. The +harp, which Edwy had given her the day of their inauspicious union, +stood in one corner of the apartment; richly ornamented manuscripts lay +scattered about—not, as usual, legends of the saints, and breviaries, +but the writings of the heathen poets, especially those who sang most +of love: for she was learned in such lore. + +At last the well-known step was heard approaching, and her heart beat +violently. Edwy entered, his face bearing the traces of his mental +struggle; he threw himself down upon a couch, and did not speak for +some few moments. She arose and stood beside him. + +“Edwy, my lord, you are ill at ease.” + +“I am indeed, Elgiva; oh! if you knew what I have had to endure this +day!” + +“I know it all, my Edwy; you cannot sacrifice your Elgiva, but she can +sacrifice herself.” + +“Elgiva! what do you mean?” + +“You have to choose between your country and your wife; she has made +the choice for you.” + +Here she strove violently to repress her emotion. + +“Elgiva! you shall never go—never, never—it will break my heart.” + +“It will break mine; but better hearts should break than that civil war +should desolate our country, or that you should be dethroned.” + +“No more of this, Elgiva; you shall not go, I swear it! come weal or +woe. Are we not man and wife? Have we not ever been faithful to each +other?” + +“But this dreadful Church, my Edwy, which crushes men’s affections and +rules their intellects with a giant’s strength more fearful than the +fabled hammer of Thor. It crushed the sweet mythology of old, with all +that ministered to love, and substituted the shaveling, the nun, the +monk; it has no sympathy with poor hearts like ours; it is remorseless, +as though it never knew pity or fear. You must yield, my Edwy! we must +yield!” + +“I cannot,” he said; “we will fly the throne together.” + +“But where would you go? this Church is everywhere; who would receive +an excommunicate man?” + +“I cannot help it, Elgiva; say no more, it maddens me. Talk of our +early days, before this dark shadow fell upon us.” + +She took up her harp, as if, like David, she could thereby soothe the +perturbed spirit; but its sweet sounds woke no answer in his breast, +and so the night came upon them—night upon the earth, night upon their +souls. + +Early in the morning she rose, strong in a woman’s affection, while +Edwy yet slept, and hastily arrayed herself; she looked around at her +poor household gods, at the harp, at the many tokens of his love. + +“It is for him!” she said. She imprinted her last kiss on his sleeping +forehead, she gazed upon him with fond, fond love; love had been her +all, her heaven: and then she opened the door noiselessly. + +Athelwold waited without. + +“Well done, noble girl!” he said; “thou keepest thy word right +faithfully.” + +She strove to speak, but could not; her pale bloodless lips would not +frame the words. Silently they descended the stairs; the dawn reddened +the sky; a horse with a lady’s equipments waited without, and a guide. + +The old thane slipped a purse of gold into her hands. + +“You will need it,” he said. “Where are you going? you have not told +us.” + +“It is better none should know,” she said; “I will decide my route when +without the city.” + +They never heard of her again.xxxii + +When Edwy awoke and found her gone he was at first frantic, and sent +messengers in all directions to bring her back; but when one after +another came back unsuccessful, he accepted the heroic sacrifice and +submitted. + +Wessex, therefore, remained faithful to him, at least for a time, but +Mercia was utterly lost; and Edgar was recognised as the lawful king +north of the Thames, by all parties; friends and foes, even by Edwy +himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. +“FOR EVER WITH THE LORD.” + + +Many months had passed away since the destruction of the hall of +Æscendune and the death of the unhappy Ragnar, and the spring of 958 +had well-nigh ended. During the interval, a long and hard winter had +grievously tried the shattered constitution of Elfric. He had recovered +from the fever and the effects of his wound in a few weeks, yet only +partially recovered, for the severe shock had permanently injured his +once strong health, and ominous symptoms showed themselves early in the +winter. His breathing became oppressed, he complained of pains in the +chest, and seemed to suffer after any exertion. + +These symptoms continued to increase in gravity, until his friends were +reluctantly compelled to recognise the symptoms of that insidious +disease, so often fatal in our English climate, which we now call +consumption. + +It was long before they would admit as much; but when they saw how +acutely he suffered in the cold frosts; how he, who had once been +foremost in every manly exercise, was compelled to forego the hunt, and +to allow his brother to traverse the woods and enjoy the pleasures of +the chase without him; how he sought the fireside and shivered at the +least draught; how a dry painful cough continually shook his frame, +they could no longer disguise the fact that his days on earth might be +very soon ended. + +There was one fact which astonished them. Although he had returned with +avidity to all the devotional habits in which he had been trained, yet +he always expressed himself unfit to receive the Holy Communion, and +delayed to make that formal confession of his sins, which the religious +habits of the age imposed on every penitent. + +Once or twice his fond mother, anxious for his spiritual welfare, +pressed this duty upon him; and Alfred, whom he loved, as well he +might, most dearly, urged the same thing, yet he always evaded the +subject, or, when pressed, replied that he fully meant to do so; in +short, it was a matter of daily preparation, but he could not come to +be shriven yet. + +When the winter at last yielded, and the bright spring sun spoke of the +resurrection, when Lent was over, they hoped at least to see him make +his Easter communion, and their evident anxiety upon the subject at +last brought from him the avowal of the motives which actuated his +conduct. + +It was Easter Eve, and Alfred had enticed him out to enjoy the balmy +air of a bright April afternoon. Close by the path they took, the hall +was rapidly rising to more than its former beauty, for not only had the +theows and ceorls all shown great alacrity in the work, but all the +neighbouring thanes had lent their aid. + +“It will be more beautiful than ever,” said Alfred, “but not quite so +homelike. Still, when you come of age, Elfric, it will be a happy home +for you.” + +“It will never be my home, Alfred.” + +“You must not speak so despondently. The bright springtide will soon +restore all your former health and vigour.” + +“No, Alfred, no; the only home I look for is one where my poor +shattered frame will indeed recover its vigour, but it will not be the +vigour or beauty of this world. Do you remember the lines Father +Cuthbert taught us the other night? + +“‘Oh, how glorious and resplendent, + Fragile body, shalt thou be, +When endued with so much beauty, + Full of health, and strong and free, +Full of vigour, full of pleasure. + That shall last eternally.’ + + +“It will not be of earth, though, my brother.” + +Alfred was silent; his emotions threatened to overcome him. He could +not bear to think that he should lose Elfric, although the conviction +was gradually forcing itself upon them all. + +“Alfred,” continued the patient, “it is of no use deceiving ourselves. +I have often thought it hard to leave this beautiful world, for it is +beautiful after all, and to leave you who have almost given your life +for me, and dear mother, little Edgitha, and Father Cuthbert; but God’s +Will must be done, and what He wills must be best for us. No; this +bright Easter tide is the last I shall see on earth; but did not Father +Cuthbert say that heaven is an eternal Easter?” + +So the repentant prodigal spoke, according to the lessons the Church +had taught him. Superstitious in many points that Church of our +forefathers may have been, yet how much living faith had its home +therein will never be fully known till the judgment. + +“And when I look at that castle,” Elfric continued, “our own hall of +Æscendune, rising from its ashes, I picture to myself how you will +marry some day and be happy there; how our dear mother will see your +children growing up around her knee, and teach them as she taught you +and me; how, perhaps, you will name one after me, and there shall be +another Elfric, gay and happy as the old one, but, I hope, ten times as +good; and you will not let him go to court, I am sure, Alfred.” + +Alfred did not answer; he could not command his composure. + +“And when you all come to the priory church on Sundays, and Father +Cuthbert, or whoever shall come after him, sings the mass, you will +remember me and breathe my name in your prayers when they say the +memento for the faithful dead; and again, there shall be little +children learning their paters and their sweet little prayers, as you +and I learned them at our mother’s knee: and you will show them my +tomb, where I shall rest with dear father, and perhaps my story may be +a warning to them. But you must never forget to show them how brotherly +love was stronger than death when the old hall was burnt. + +“After all,” he continued, “our separation won’t be long, the longest +day comes to an end, and a thousand years are with Him as one day. We +shall all be united at last—father, mother, Alfred, Edgitha, Elfric. Do +you not hear the Easter bells?” + +They retraced their steps to the priory church for the services of +Easter Eve. + +“And one thing more, dear Alfred; you think me a strange penitent, that +I am long, very long, before I make my confession. You do not know how +I sigh for Communion; it is three years since I communicated, nearly +four. But, Alfred, there is one who tried to stop me when I began going +downward, downward, and I feel as if I must have his forgiveness before +I can communicate, and it is to him I want to make my last confession. +You know whom I mean; he is in England now and near.” + +“I do indeed.” + +“Now you know my secret, let us go into church.” + +Oh, how sweetly those Easter psalms and lessons spoke to Alfred and +Elfric that night; how sweetly the tidings of a risen Saviour sounded +in their ears. Easter joy was joy indeed. The very heavens seemed +brighter that night, the moon—the Paschal moon—seemed to gladden the +earth and render it a Paradise, like that happy Eden of old times, +before sin entered its holy seclusion. + +Easter tide was over, and Ascension drew near, but the sweet month of +May had done little to restore health to poor Elfric. He had scarcely +ever had a day free from pain. His eye was brighter than ever, but his +attenuated face told a sad tale of the decay of the vital power. + +From the time that Alfred knew how his brother yearned for Dunstan’s +forgiveness, and that he would be shriven by none but him, he had +sought to accomplish his wish. He heard that Dunstan had returned from +abroad, and was about to be consecrated Bishop of Worcester, and to be +their own diocesan, and he sought an early opportunity of seeing him. + +At last, but not until after Dunstan’s consecration, he gained the +opportunity, not without much delay; for Dunstan was sometimes in +Worcester, sometimes in London, which had thrown off Edwy’s authority, +and submitted, with all Essex, to Edgar; sometimes ordaining, sometimes +confirming, sometimes assisting Edgar in the government; and he was, +like all other great men, very inaccessible. + +At last Alfred learned that he would be in Worcester by a certain day, +and he started at once for that city. He arrived there after a tedious +journey; the roads were very difficult, and when he reached the city he +heard the cathedral bells, and went at once to the high mass, for it +was a festival. There he saw Dunstan as he had seen him before at +Glastonbury, at the altar, amidst all the solemn pomp in which our +ancestors robed the sacred office. + +Immediately after the service he repaired to the palace, and put in his +name. Numbers, like himself, were awaiting an audience, but only a few +minutes had passed ere an usher came into the antechamber and informed +him that Dunstan requested his immediate presence. + +He followed the usher amidst the envy of many who had the prospect of a +long detention ere they could obtain the same favour, and soon he had +clasped Dunstan’s hand and knelt for his blessing. + +“Nay! rise up, my son, it is thine: _Deus benedicat et custodiat te, in +omnibus viis tuis_. Thinkest thou, my son, thy name has been forgotten +in my poor prayers? God made thee His instrument, but thou wast a very +very willing one; and now, my son, wherein can I serve thee? Thou hast +but to speak.” + +Thus encouraged, Alfred told all his tale, and Dunstan listened with +much emotion. + +“Yet two days and I will be with you at Æscendune. Go back and comfort +thy brother; he shall indeed have my forgiveness, and happy shall I be +as an ambassador of Christ to fulfil the blessed office of restoring +the lost sheep to the fold, the prodigal to his Heavenly Father.” + +When Alfred returned to Æscendune he found Elfric eagerly awaiting him; +he had not been so well in the absence of his brother, and every one +saw symptoms of the coming end. + +Still he seemed so happy when Alfred delivered his message that every +one remarked it, and that evening he sat up later than usual, listening +as Father Cuthbert read for the hundredth time his favourite story from +King Alfred’s Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels, the parable of the +prodigal son, which had filled his mind on the night after the battle; +then he spoke to his mother about past days, before a cloud came +between him and his home; and talked of his father, and of the little +incidents of early youth. Always loving, he was more so than usual that +night, as if he felt time was short in which to show a son’s love. + +That night his mother came, as she always came, when he was asleep, to +his chamber to gaze upon him, when she was struck by the difficulty of +his breathing; she felt alarmed when she saw the struggles he seemed to +make for breath, and saw the damp sweat upon his brow, so she called +Alfred. + +Alfred saw at once that his brother was seriously worse, and summoned +Father Cuthbert, who no sooner gazed upon him than he exclaimed that +the end was near. + +During all that night he breathed heavily and with difficulty, as if +each breath would be the last. Towards morning, however, he rallied, +and immediate danger seemed gone, although only for a short time. + +He sat up for the last time that day. It was a lovely day in May, and +in the heat of the day he seemed to drink in the sweet atmosphere, as +it came gently through the open window, laden with the scents of a +hundred flowers. Often his lips moved as if in prayer, and sometimes he +spoke to his brother, and asked when Dunstan would come; but he was not +equal to prolonged conversation. + +At length one of the ceorls came riding in to say that the Bishop, with +his retinue, was approaching the village, and Father Cuthbert went out +to meet him. The impatient anxiety of poor Elfric became painful to +witness. + +“He is coming, Elfric! he is coming!” said Alfred from the window. “I +see him near; see! he stops to salute Father Cuthbert, whom he knew +years ago; I must go down to receive him. + +“Mother! You stay with Elfric.” + +A sound as of many feet; another moment, a firm step was heard upon the +stairs, and Dunstan entered the room. + +He advanced to the bed, while all present stood in reverent silence, +and gazed upon the patient with a look of such affection as a father +might bestow upon a dying son as he took the weak nerveless hand. + +Elfric looked round with a mute appeal which they all comprehended, and +left him alone with Dunstan. + +“Father, pardon me!” he said. + +“Thou askest pardon of me, my son—of me, a sinner like thyself; I +cannot tell thee how freely I give it thee; and now, my son, unburden +thyself before thy God, for never was it known that one pleaded to Him +and was cast out.” + +When, after an interval, Dunstan summoned the lady Edith and Alfred +back into the room, a look of such calm, placid composure, such +satisfied happiness, sat upon his worn face, that they never forgot it. + +“Surely,” thought they, “such is the expression the blessed will wear +in heaven.” + +And then, in their presence, Dunstan administered the Blessed Sacrament +of the Body and Blood of Christ to the happy penitent; it was the first +Communion which he had willingly made since he first left home, a +bright happy boy of fifteen; and words would fail to describe the deep +faith and loving penitence with which he gathered his dying strength to +receive the Holy Mysteries. + +And then Dunstan administered the last of all earthly rites—the holy +anointing;xxxiii while amidst their tears the mourners yet thought of +Him Who vouchsafed to be anointed before He sanctified the grave to be +a bed of hope to His people. + +“Art thou happy now, my son?” said Dunstan, when all was over. + +“Happy indeed! happy! yes, so happy!” + +They were almost the last words he said, until an hour had passed and +the sun had set, leaving the bright clouds suffused in rich purple, +when he sat up in the bed. + +“Mother! Alfred!” he said, “do you hear that music? Many are singing; +surely that was father’s voice. Oh! how bright!” + +He fell back, and Dunstan began the solemn commendatory prayer, for he +saw the last moment was come. + +“Go forth, O Christian soul, from this world, in the name of God the +Father Who hath created thee, of God the Son Who hath redeemed thee, of +God the Holy Ghost Who hath been poured out upon thee; and may thy +abode be this day in peace, in the heavenly Sion, through Jesus Christ +thy Lord.” + +It was over! Over that brief but eventful life! Over all the bright +hopes which had centred on him in this world; but the battle was won, +and the eternal victory gained. + +We have little more to add to our tale; the remainder is matter of +history. The real fate of the unhappy Elgiva is not known, for the +legend which represents her as suffering a violent death at the hands +of the partisans of Edgar or Odo rests upon no solid foundation, but is +repugnant to actual facts of history. Let us hope that she found the +only real consolation in that religion she had hitherto, unhappily, +despised, but which may perhaps have come to her aid in adversity. + +The unhappy Edwy sank from bad to worse. When Elgiva was gone he seemed +to have nothing to live for; he yielded himself up to riotous living to +drown care, while his government became worse and worse. Alas, he never +repented, so far as we can learn, and the following year he died at +Gloucester—some said of a broken heart, others of a broken +constitution—in the twentieth year only of his age. + +Poor unhappy Edwy the Fair! Yet he had been his own worst enemy. Well +has it been written: + +“Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine +heart, and in the sight of thine eyes; but know thou that for all these +things God will bring thee into judgment.” + +Edgar succeeded to the throne, and all England acknowledged him as +lord; while under Dunstan’s wise administration the land enjoyed peace +and plenty unexampled in Anglo-Saxon annals. Such was Edgar’s power, +that more than three thousand vessels kept the coast in safety, and +eight tributary kings did him homage. + +Alfred became in due course Thane of Æscendune, and his widowed mother +lived to rejoice in his filial care many a long year, while the +dependants and serfs blessed his name as they had once blessed that of +his father. + +“The boy is the father of the man” it has been well said, and it was +not less true than usual in this case. A bright pure boyhood ushered in +a manhood of healthful vigour and bright intellect. + +Children grew up around him after his happy marriage with Alftrude, the +daughter of the thane of Rollrich. The eldest boy was named Elfric, and +was bright and brave as the Elfric of old. Need we say he never went to +court, although Edgar would willingly have numbered him in the royal +household. Truly, indeed, were fulfilled the words which the Elfric of +old had spoken on that Easter eve. To his namesake, and to all that +younger generation, the memory of the uncle they had never seen was +surrounded by a mysterious halo of light and love; and when they said +their prayers around his tomb, it seemed as if he were still one of +themselves—sharing their earthly joys and sorrows. + +And here we must leave them—time passing sweetly on, the current of +their lives flowing softly and gently to the mighty ocean of eternity: + +“Where the faded flower shall freshen, + Freshen never more to fade; +Where the shaded sky shall brighten, + Brighten never more to shade.” + _Bonar_. + + +THE END. + + + + +Footnotes + + +i For authorities for his various statements the Author must beg to +refer his readers to the notes at the end of the volume. + +ii Homilies in the Anglo-Saxon Church + +“The mass priest, on Sundays and mass days, shall speak the sense of +the Gospel to the people in English, and of the Paternoster, and of the +Creed, as often as he can, for the inciting of the people to know their +belief, and to retain their Christianity. Let the teacher take heed of +what the prophet says, ‘They are dumb dogs, and cannot bark.’ We ought +to bark and preach to laymen, lest they should be lost through +ignorance. Christ in His gospel says of unlearned teachers, ‘If the +blind lead the blind, they both fall into the ditch.’ The teacher is +blind that hath no book learning, and he misleads the laity through his +ignorance. Thus are you to be aware of this, as your duty +requires.”—23d Canon of Elfric, about A.D. 957. + +Elfric was then only a private monk in the abbey of Ahingdon, and +perhaps composed these canons for the use of Wulfstan, Bishop of +Dorchester, with the assistance of the abbot, Ethelwold. They commence +“Ælfricus, humilis frater, venerabili Episcopo Wulfsino, salutem in +Domino.” Others think this “Wulfsinus” was the Bishop of Sherborne of +that name. Elfric became eventually Archbishop of Canterbury, A.D. +995-1005, dying at an advanced age. No other English name before the +Conquest is so famous in literature. + +iii Services of the Church. + +“It concerns mass priests, and all God’s servants, to keep their +churches employed with God’s service. Let them sing therein the +seven-tide songs that are appointed them, as the Synod earnestly +requires—that is, the uht song (matins); the prime song (seven A.M.); +the undern song (terce, nine A.M.); the midday song (sext); the noon +song (nones, three P.M.); the even song (six P.M.); the seventh or +night song (compline, nine P.M.)”—19th Canon of Elfric. + +It is not to be supposed that the laity either were expected to attend, +or could attend, all these services, which were strictly kept in +monastic bodies; but it would appear that mass, and sometimes matins +and evensong, or else compline, were generally frequented. And these +latter would be, as represented in the text, the ordinary services in +private chapels. + +iv Battle of Brunanburgh. + +In this famous battle, the English, under their warlike king, defeated +a most threatening combination of foes; Anlaf, the Danish prince, +having united his forces to those of Constantine, King of the Scots, +and the Britons, or Welsh of Strathclyde and Cambria. So proud were the +English of the victory, that their writers break into poetry when they +come to that portion of their annals. Such is the case with the writer +of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, from whom the following verses are +abridged. They have been already partially quoted in the text. + +Here Athelstane king, +Of earls the lord, +To warriors the ring-giver, +Glory world-long +Had won in the strife, +By edge of the sword, +At Brunanburgh. +The offspring of Edward, +The departed king, +Cleaving the shields. +Struck down the brave. +Such was their valour, +Worthy of their sires, +That oft in the strife +They shielded the land +‘Gainst every foe. +The Scottish chieftains, +The warriors of the Danes, +Pierced through their mail, +Lay dead on the field. +The field was red +With warriors’ blood, +What time the sun, +Uprising at morn, +The candle of God, +Ran her course through the heavens; +Till red in the west +She sank to her rest. +Through the live-long day +Fought the people of Wessex, +Unshrinking from toil, +While Mercian men, +Hurled darts by their side. +Fated to die +Their ships brought the Danes, +Five kings and seven earls, +All men of renown, +And Scots without number +Lay dead on the field. +Constantine, hoary warrior, +Had small cause to boast. +Young in the fight, +Mangled and torn, +Lay his son on the plain. +Nor Anlaf the Dane +With wreck of his troops, +Could vaunt of the war +Of the clashing of spears. +Or the crossing of swords, +with the offspring of Edward. +The Northmen departed +In their mailed barks, +Sorrowing much; +while the two brothers, +The King and the Etheling, +To Wessex returned, +Leaving behind +The corpses of foes +To the beak of the raven, +The eagle and kite, +And the wolf of the wood. + + +The Chronicle simply adds, “A.D. 937.—This year King Athelstan, and the +Etheling Edmund, his brother, led a force to Brimanburgh, end there +fought against Anlaf, and, Christ helping them, they slew five kings +and seven earls.” + +v Murder of Edmund. + +A certain robber named Leofa, whom Edmund had banished for his crimes, +returning after six years’ absence, totally unexpected, was sitting, on +the feast of St. Augustine, the apostle of the English, and first +Archbishop of Canterbury, among the royal guests at Pucklechurch, for +on this day the English were wont to regale, in commemoration of their +first preacher; by chance, too, he was placed near a nobleman, whom the +king had condescended to make his guest. This, while the others were +eagerly carousing, was perceived by the king alone; when, hurried with +indignation, and impelled by fate, he leaped from the table, caught the +robber by the hair, and dragged him to the floor; but he, secretly +drawing a dagger from its sheath, plunged it with all his force into +the breast of the king as he lay upon him. Dying of the wound, he gave +rise over the whole kingdom to many fictions concerning his decease. +The robber was shortly torn limb from limb by the attendants who rushed +in, though he wounded some of them ere they could accomplish their +purpose. St. Dunstan, at that time Abbot of Glastonbury, had foreseen +his ignoble end, being fully persuaded of it from the gesticulations +and insolent mockery of a devil dancing before him. Wherefore, +hastening to court at full speed, he received intelligence of the +transaction on the road. By common consent, then, it was determined +that his body should be brought to Glastonbury, and there magnificently +buried in the northern part of the tower. That such had been his +intention, through his singular regard for the abbot, was evident from +particular circumstances. The village, also, where he was murdered, was +made a offering for the dead, that the spot, which had witnessed his +fall, might ever after minister aid to his soul,—William of Malmesbury, +B, ii. e. 7, Bohn’s Edition. + +vi A. D. 556—Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. + +vii Wulfstan, and the See of Dorchester. + +When Athelstane was dead, the Danes, both in Northumberland and Mercia, +revolted against the English rule, and made Anlaf their king. +Archbishop Wulfstan, then of York, sided with them, perhaps being +himself of Danish blood. The kingdom was eventually divided between +Edmund and Aulaf, until the death of the latter. When Edred ascended +the throne—after the murder of Edmund, who had, before his death, +repossessed himself of the whole sovereignty—the wise men of +Northumberland, with Wulfstan at their head, swore submission to him, +but in 948 rebelled and chose for their king Eric of Denmark. Edred +marched at once against them, and subdued the rebellion with great +vigour, not to say riqour. He threw the archbishop into prison at +Jedburgh in Bernicia. After a time he was released, but only upon the +condition of banishment from Northumbria, and he was made Bishop of +Dorchester, a place familiar to the tourist on the Thames, famed for +the noble abbey church which still exists, and has been grandly +restored. + +Although Dorchester is now only a village, it derives its origin from a +period so remote that it is lost in the mist of ages. It was probably a +British village under the name Cair Dauri, the camp on the waters; and +coins of Cunobelin, or Cassivellaunus, have been found in good +preservation. Bede mentions it as a Roman station, and Richard of +Cirencester marks it as such in the xviii. Iter, under the name +Durocina. + +Its bishopric was founded by Birinus, the apostle of the West Saxons; +and the present bishoprics of Winchester, Salisbury, Exeter, Bath and +Wells, Worcester and Hereford, were successively taken from it, after +which it still extended from the Thames to the Humber. + +Suffering grievously from the ravages of the Danes, it became a small +town, and it suffered again grievously at the Conquest, when the +inhabited houses were reduced by the Norman ravages from 172 to 100, +and perhaps the inhabitants were reduced in proportion. In consequence, +Remigius, the first Norman bishop, removed the see to Lincoln, because +Dorchester, on account of its size and small population, did not suit +his ideas, as John of Brompton observes. From this period its decline +was rapid, in spite of its famous abbey, which Remigius partially +erected with the stones from the bishop’s palace. + +viii Anglo-Saxon Literature. + +In the age of Bede, the eighth century, Britain was distinguished for +its learning; but the Danish invasions caused the rapid decline of its +renown. + +The churches and monasteries, where alone learning flourished, and +which were the only libraries and schools, were the first objects of +the hatred of the ferocious pagans; and, in consequence, when Alfred +came to the throne, as he tells us in his own words—“South of the +Humber there were few priests who could understand the meaning of their +common prayers, or translate a line of Latin into English; so few, that +in Wessex there was not one.” Alfred set himself diligently to work to +correct this evil. Nearly all the books in existence in England were in +Latin, and it was a “great” library which contained fifty copies of +these. There was a great objection to the use of the vernacular in the +Holy Scriptures, as tending to degrade them by its uncouth jargon; but +the Venerable Bede had rendered the Gospel of St. John into the +Anglo-Saxon, together with other extracts from holy Scripture; and +there were versions of the Psalter in the vulgar tongue, very rude and +uncouth; for ancient translators generally imagined a translation could +only be faithful which placed all the words of the vulgar tongue in the +same relative positions as the corresponding words in the original. An +Anglo-Saxon translation upon this plan is extant. + +Alfred had taught himself Latin by translating: there were few +vocabularies, and only the crabbed grammar of old Priscian. Shaking +himself free from the trammels we have enumerated, he invited learned +men from abroad, such as his biographer, Asser, and together they +attempted a complete version of the Bible. Some writers suppose the +project was nearly completed, others, that it was interrupted by his +early death. Still, translations were multiplied of the sacred +writings, and the rubrics show that they were read, as described in the +text, upon the Sundays and festivals. From that time down to the days +of Wickliffe, England can boast of such versions of the sacred Word as +can hardly be paralleled in Europe. + +The other works we have mentioned were also translated by or for +Alfred. “The Chronicle of Orosius,” a history of the world by a +Spaniard of Seville; “The History of the Venerable Bede;” “The +Consolations of Philosophy,” by Boethius; “Narratives from Ancient +Mythology;” “The Confessions of St. Augustine;” “The Pastoral +Instructions of St. Gregory;” and his “Dialogue,” form portions of the +works of this greatest of kings, and true father of his people. His +“Apologues,” imitated from Æsop, are unfortunately lost. + +ix The Court of Edred. + +All the early chroniclers appear to take a similar view of the +character and court of Edred. William of Malmesbury says—“The king +devoted his life to God, and to St. Dunstan, by whose admonition he +bore with patience his frequent bodily pains, prolonged his prayers, +and made his palace altogether the school of virtue.” But although +pious, he was by no means wanting in manly energy, as was shown by his +vigorous and successful campaign in Northumbria, on the occasion of the +attempt to set Eric, son of Harold, on the throne of Northumbria. The +angelic apparition to St. Dunstan, mentioned in chapter VII, is told by +nearly all the early historians, but with varying details. According to +many, it occurred while Dunstan was hastening to the aid of Edred. The +exigencies of the tale required a slightly different treatment of the +legend. + +x Confession in the Anglo-Saxon Church. + +“On the week next before holy night shall every one go to his shrift +(i.e. confessor), and his shrift shall shrive him in such a manner as +his deeds which he hath done require and he shall charge all that +belong to his district that if any of them have discord with any, he +make peace with him; if any one will not be brought to this, then he +shall not shrive him; [but] then he shall inform the bishop, that he +may convert him to what is right, if he he willing to belong to God: +then all contentions and disputes shall cease, and if there be any one +of them that hath taken offence at another, then shall they be +reconciled, that they may the more freely say in the Lord’s Prayer, +‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against +us,’ etc. And having thus purified their minds, let them enter upon the +holy fast-tide, and cleanse themselves by satisfaction against holy +Easter, for this satisfaction is as it were a second baptism. As in +Baptism the sins before committed are forgiven, so, by satisfaction, +are the sins committed after Baptism.” Theodulf’s Canons, A.D. 994 +(Canon 36). + +It is evident, says Johnson, that “holy night” means “lenten night,” as +the context shows. + +xi Incense in the Anglo-Saxon Church. + +Dr. Rock, in his “Hierurgia Anglicans,” states that incense was used at +the Gospel. In vol. i., quoting from Ven. Bede, he writes —“Conveniunt +omnes in ecclesium B. Petri ipse (Ceolfridas Abbas) thure incenso, et +dicto oratione, ad altare pacem dat omnibus, stans in gradibus, +thuribulum habens in menu.” In Leofric’s Missal is a form for the +blessing of incense. Theodore’s Penitential also affixes a penance to +its wilful or careless destruction. Ven. Bede on his deathbed gave away +incense amongst his little parting presents, as his disciple, Cuthbert, +relates. Amongst the furniture of the larger Anglo-Saxon churches was a +huge censer hanging from the roof, which emitted fumes throughout the +mass. + +“Hic quoque thuribulum, capitellis undique cinctum, +Pendet de summo, fumosa foramina pandens: +De quibus ambrosia spirabunt thura Sabæa, +Quando sacerdotes missas offerre jubentur.” +Alcuini _Opera_, B. ii,, p. 550. + + +xii Psalm xxi. 3. + +xiii “All were indignant at the shameless deed, and murmured amongst +themselves,” —William of Malmesbury. + +xiv The Welsh were driven from Exeter by King Athelstane; before that +time, Englishmen and Welsh had inhabited it with equal rights. + +xv The earliest inhabitants of Ireland were called Scots. + +xvi Legends about St. Dunstan. + +“It is a great pity,” says Mr. Freeman, in his valuable “Old English +History,” “that so many strange stories are told about him [Dunstan], +because people are apt to think of those stories and not of his real +actions.” This has indeed been the case to such an extent that his +talents, as a statesman and as an ecclesiastical legislator, are almost +unknown to many who are very familiar with the story of his seizing the +devil by the nose with a pair of tongs. Sir Francis Palgrave supposes +that St. Dunstan’s seclusion at the time had led him to believe, like +so many solitaries, that he was attacked in person by the fiend, and +that he related his visions, which were accepted as absolute facts by +his credulous hearers. Hence the author has assumed the currency of +some of these marvellous legends in his tale, and has introduced a +later one into the text of the present chapter. But the whole life of +the saint, as related by his monkish biographers, is literally full of +such legends, some terrible, some ludicrous. One of the most remarkable +deserves mention, bearing, as it does, upon our tale. It is said that +he learned that Edwy was dead, and that the devils were about to carry +off his soul in triumph, when, falling to fervent prayer, he obtained +his release. A most curious colloquy between the abbot and the devils +on this subject may be found in Osberne’s “Life of Dunstan.” + +xvii The Benedictine Rule. + +St. Benedict, the founder of the great Benedictine Order, was born in +the neighbourhood of Nursia, a city of Italy, about A.D. 480. Sent to +study at Rome, he was shocked at the vices of his fellow students, ran +away from the city, and shut himself up in a hermitage, where he +resigned himself to a life of the strictest austerity. Three years he +spent in a cave near Subiaco, about forty miles from Rome, where he was +so removed from society that he lost all account of time. He did not, +however, lead an idle life of self contemplation; he instructed the +shepherds of he neighbourhood, and such were the results of his +instruction that his fame spread widely, until, the abbot of a +neighbouring monastery dying, the brethren almost compelled him to +become their superior, but, not liking the reforms he introduced, +subsequently endeavoured to poison him, whereupon he returned to his +cave, where, as St. Gregory says, “he dwelt with himself” and became +more celebrated than ever. After this the number of his disciples +increased so greatly, that, emerging from his solitude, he built twelve +monasteries, in each of which he placed twelve monks under a superior, +finally laying the foundation of the great monastery of Monte Cassino, +which has ever since been regarded as the central institution of the +order. + +Here was drawn up the famous Benedictine rule, which was far more +adapted than any other code to prevent the cloister from becoming the +abode of idleness or lascivious ease. To the three vows of poverty, +chastity, and obedience, was added the obligation of manual labour, the +brethren being required to work with their hands at least seven hours +daily. The profession for life was preceded by a novitiate of one year, +during which the rule was deeply studied by the novice, that the life +vow might not be taken without due consideration. The colour of the +habit was usually dark, hence the brethren were called the Black Monks. + +St. Benedict died of a fever, which he caught in ministering to the +poor, on the eve of Passion Sunday, A.D. 543. Before his death, the +houses of the order were to be found in all parts of Europe, and by the +ninth century it had become general throughout the Church, almost +superseding all other orders. + +xviii The Roman Roads. + +Roman roads were thus constructed: Two shallow trenches were dug +parallel to each other, marking the breadth of the proposed road; the +loose earth was removed till a solid foundation was reached, and above +this were laid four distinct strata—the first of small broken stones, +the second of rubble, the third of fragments of bricks or pottery, and +the fourth the pavement, composed of large blocks of solid stone, so +joined as to present a perfectly even surface. Regular footpaths were +raised on each side, and covered with gravel. Milestones divided them +accurately. Mountains were pierced by cuttings or tunnels, and arches +thrown over valleys or streams. Upon these roads, posting houses +existed at intervals of six miles, each provided with forty horses, so +that journeys of more than 150 miles were sometimes accomplished in one +day. + +From the arrival of our uncivilised anceators, these magnificent roads +were left to ruin and decay, and sometimes became the quarry whence the +thane or baron drew stones for his castle; but they still formed the +channels of communication for centuries. Henry of Huntingdon (circa +1154) mentions the Icknield Street, from east to west; the Eringe, or +Ermine Street, from south to north; the Watling Street, from southeast +to northwest; and the Foss Way, from northeast to southwest, as the +four principal highways of Britain in his day. Once ruined, no +communications so perfect existed until these days of railroads. + +xix The Rollright Stones. + +These stones are still to be seen in the parish of Great Rollright near +Chipping Norton, Oxon, anciently Rollrich or Rholdrwygg. They lie on +the edge of an old Roman trackway, well defined, which extends along +the watershed between Thames and Avon. The writer has himself heard +from the rustics of the neighbourhood the explanation given by Oswy, +while that put in the mouth of Father Cuthbert is the opinion of the +learned. + +xx For this new translation of Urbs beata the author is indebted to his +friend the Rev. Gerald Moultrie. + +xxi The reader will remember the strong feeling of animosity then +existing between seculars and regulars. + +xxii This demoniacal laughter is one of the many legends about St. +Dunstan. + +xxiii See Preface. + +xxiv Ruined British Cities. + +The resistance of the Britons (or Welsh) to their Saxon (or English) +foes was so determined, that, as in all similar cases, it increased the +miseries of the conquered. In Gaul the conquered Celts united with the +Franks to make one people; in Spain they united with the Goths; but the +conquerors of Britain came from that portion of Germany which had been +untouched by Roman valour or civilisation, and consequently there was +no disposition to unite with their unhappy victims, but the war became +one of extermination. Long and bravely did the unhappy Welsh struggle. +After a hundred years of warfare they still possessed the whole extent +of the western coast, from the wall of Autoninus to the extreme +promontory of Cornwall; and the principal cities of the inland +territory still maintained the resistance. The fields of battle, says +Gibbon, might be traced in almost every district by the monuments of +bones; the fragments of falling towers were stained by blood, the +Britons were massacred ruthlessly to the last man in the conquered +towns, without distinction of age or sex, as in Anderida. Whole +territories returned to desolation; the district between the Tyne and +Tees, for example, to the state of a savage and solitary forest. The +wolves, which Roman authorities describe as nonexistent in England, +again peopled those dreary wastes; and from the soft civilisation of +Rome the inhabitants of the land fell back to the barbarous manners and +customs of the shepherds and hunters of the German forests. Nor did the +independent Britons, who had taken refuge finally in Wales, or Devon +and Cornwall, fare much better. Separated by their foes from the rest +of mankind, they returned to that state of barbarism from which they +had emerged, and became a scandal at last to the growing civilisation +of their English foes. + +Under these circumstances the Saxons or English (the Saxons founded the +kingdoms of Wessex and Essex; the Jutes, Kent; the Angles all the +others. The predominance of the latter caused the term English to +become the general appellation.) cared little to inhabit the cities +they conquered; they left them to utter desolation, as in the case +described in the text, until a period came when, as in the case of the +first English assaults upon Exeter and the west country, they no longer +destroyed, but appropriated, while they spared the conquered. + +xxv Seaton in Devonshire. + +xxvi Elgiva or Ælgifu, signifies fairy gift. + +Xxvii + +The gate of hell stands open night and day; +Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: +But to return, and view the upper skies—In this the toil, in this the +labour lies.—Dryden. + + +xxviii Valhalla. + +Valhalla or Waihalla was the mythical Scandinavian Olympus, the +celestial locality where Odin and Edris dwelt with the happy dead who +had fallen in battle, and who had been conducted thither by the fair +Valkyries. Here they passed the days in fighting and hunting +alternately, being restored sound in body for the banquet each night, +where they drank mead from the skulls of the foes they had vanquished +in battle. Such was the heaven which commended itself to those fierce +warriors. + +xxix The parish priests were commonly called “Mass-Thanes” + +xxx “I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord. He that +believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever +liveth, and believeth in Me, shall never die.” + +It was not the usual English custom, in those days, to bury the dead in +coffins, still it was often done, in the case of the great, from the +earliest days of Christianity. For instance, a stone coffin, supposed +to contain the dust of the fierce Offa, who died A. D. 796, was dug up, +when more than a thousand years had passed away, in the year 1836, at +Hemel-Hempstead, with the name Offa rudely carved upon it. The earliest +mention of churchyards in English antiquities is in the canons called +the “Excerptions of Ecgbriht,” A.D. 740, when Cuthbert was Archbishop +of Canterbury; and here the word “atria” is used, which may refer to +the outbuildings or porticoes of a church. + + +xxxi The Greater and Lesser Excommunications. + +The lesser excommunication excluded men from the participation of the +Eucharist and the prayers of the faithful, but did not necessarily +expel them from the Church. The greater excommunication was far more +dreadful in its operation. It was not lawful to pray, speak, or eat, +with the excommunicate (Canons of Ecgbright). No meat might be given +into their hands even in charity, although it might be laid before them +on the ground. Those who sheltered them incurred a heavy “were gild,” +and endangered the loss of their estates; and finally, in case of +obstinacy, outlawry and banishment followed. + +—King Canute’s Laws Ecclesiastical. + +xxxii Disappearance of Elgiva. + +The writer has already in the preface stated his reasons for rejecting +the usual sad story about the fate of the hapless Elgiva. The other +story, that she was seized by Archbishop Odo, branded on the face, and +sent to Ireland, as Mr. Freeman observes, rests on no good authority; +all that is certainly known is that she disappeared. + +At the time commonly assigued to these events, Dunstan was still in +Flanders; yet he is generally credited with the atrocities by modern +writers, even as if he had been proved guilty after a formal trial. His +return probably took place about the time occupied by the action of the +last chapter, when the partition of the kingdom had already occurred. + +xxxiii The last Anointing. + +The priest shall also have oil hallowed, separately, for children, and +for sick men; and solemnly anoint the sick in their beds. Some sick men +are full of vain fears, so as not to consent to the being anointed. Now +we will tell you how God’s Apostle Jacob hath instructed us in this +point; he thus speaks to the faithful: “If any of you be afflicted, let +him pray for himself with an even mind, and praise his Lord. If any be +sick among you, let him fetch the mass priests of the congregation, and +let them sing over him, and pray for him, and anoint him with oil in +the Name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith shall heal the sick; and +the Lord shall raise him up: and if he be in sins they shall be +forgiven him. Confess your sins among yourselves, pray for yourselves +among yourselves, that ye be healed.” Thus spake Jacob the Apostle +concerning the unction of the sick. But the sick man, before his +anointing, shall with inward heart confess his sins to the priest, if +he hath any for which he hath not made satisfaction, according to what +the Apostle before taught: and he must not be anointed, unless he +request it, and make his confession. If he were before sinful and +careless, let him then confess, and repent, and do alms before his +death, that he may not be adjudged to hell, but obtain the Divine +mercy. + +Such is Johnson’s version of the 32d canon of Elfric, in which he has +preserved closely Elfric’s translation, or rather paraphrase, of the +passage in St. James. The name James was not then in use, the Latin +Jacobus was rendered Jacob.—Johnson’s English Canons, A.D. 957, 32. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13215 *** diff --git a/13215-h/13215-h.htm b/13215-h/13215-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..23ed3e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/13215-h/13215-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13153 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Æscendune, by A. D. Crake</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13215 ***</div> + +<h1>Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Æscendune:</h1> + +<h3>A Tale of the Days of Saint Dunstan,</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">by the Rev. A. D. Crake.</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#PREFACE">PREFACE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. “THIS IS THE FOREST PRIMEVAL.”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE OF ÆSCENDUNE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. LEAVING HOME.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. LONDON IN THE OLDEN TIME.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. TEMPTATION.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. LOWER AND LOWER.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. “THE KING IS DEAD!—LONG LIVE THE KING!”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. THE CORONATION.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. GLASTONBURY ABBEY.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. ELFRIC AND ALFRED.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. THE FLIGHT OF DUNSTAN.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. AT HIS WORST.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. THE RETURN OF ALFRED.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. EDWY AND ELGIVA.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. THE ROYAL GUEST.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. NAKED THOUGH LOCKED IN STEEL.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. THE SLEEP OF PEACE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. THE BATTLE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. EARTH TO EARTH, AND DUST TO DUST.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. “AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT.”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. “UNDER WHICH KING? “</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. LOVE STRONG AS DEATH.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. SOW THE WIND, AND REAP THE WHIRLWIND.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. “FOR EVER WITH THE LORD.”</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> + +<p> +It has been the aim of the Author, in a series of original tales told to the +senior boys of a large school, to illustrate interesting or difficult passages +of Church History by the aid of fiction. Two of these +tales—“Æmilius,” a tale of the Decian and Valerian +persecutions; and “Evanus,” a tale of the days of +Constantine—he has already published, and desires gratefully to +acknowledge the kindness with which they have been received. +</p> + +<p> +He is thus encouraged to submit another attempt to the public, having its scene +of action in our own land, although in times very dissimilar to our own; and +for its object, the illustration of the struggle between the regal and +ecclesiastical powers in the days of the ill-fated and ill-advised King Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely can one find a schoolboy who has not read the touching legend of Edwy +and Elgiva—for it is little more than a legend in most of its details; +and which of these youthful readers has not execrated the cruelty of the +Churchmen who separated those unhappy lovers? While the tragical story of the +fate of the hapless Elgiva has been the theme of many a poet and even +historian, who has accepted the tale as if it were of as undoubted authenticity +as the Reform Bill. +</p> + +<p> +The writer can well remember the impression the tale made upon his youthful +imagination, and the dislike, to use a mild word, with which he ever viewed the +character of the great statesman and ecclesiastic of the tenth century, +Dunstan, until a wider knowledge of history and a more accurate judgment came +with maturer years; and testimonies to the ability and genius of that monk, who +had been the moving spirit of his age, began to force themselves upon him. +</p> + +<p> +Lord Macaulay has well summed up the relative positions of Church and State in +that age in the following words: “It is true that the Church had been +deeply corrupted by superstition, yet she retained enough of the sublime +theology and benevolent morality of her early days to elevate many intellects, +and to purify many hearts. That the sacerdotal order should encroach on the +functions of the chief magistrate, would in our time be a great evil. But that +which in an age of good government is an evil, may in an age of grossly bad +government be a blessing. It is better that men should be governed by priest +craft than by brute violence; by such a prelate as Dunstan, than by such a +warrior as Penda.” +</p> + +<p> +The Church was indeed the salt of the earth, even if the salt had somewhat lost +its savour; it was the only power which could step in between the tyrant and +his victim, which could teach the irresponsible great—irresponsible to +man—their responsibility to the great and awful Being whose creatures +they were. And again, it was then the only home of civilisation and learning. +It has been well said that for the learning of this age to vilify the monks and +monasteries of the medieval period, is for the oak to revile the acorn from +which it sprang. +</p> + +<p> +The overwhelming realisation of these facts, the determination to set up the +dominion of truth and justice which they held to be identical with that of the +Church, as that was identical with the kingdom of God, supplies the key to the +lives and characters of such men as Ambrose, Cyril, Dunstan, and Becket. They +each came in collision with the civil power; but Ambrose against Justina or +even Theodosius, Cyril against Orestes, Dunstan against Edwy, Becket against +Henry Plantagenet—each represented, in a greater or less degree, the +cause of religion, nay of humanity, against its worst foes, tyranny or moral +corruption. +</p> + +<p> +Yet not one of these great men was without his faults; this is only to say he +was human; but more may be admitted—personal motives would mix themselves +with nobler emotions. Self would assert her fatal claims, and great mistakes +were sometimes made by those who would have forfeited their lives rather than +have committed them, had they known what they were doing. Yet, on the whole, +their cause was that of God and man, and they fought nobly. Shall we asperse +their memories because they “had this treasure in earthen vessels”? +</p> + +<p> +The tale itself is intended to depict what the writer believes to be the true +relative positions of Edwy and the great ecclesiastic; therefore he will not +attempt to deal with the subject here. It will be noticed however, that he has +shorn the narrative of the dread catastrophe with which it terminated in all +the histories of our childhood. Scarcely any writer has made such wise research +into the history of this period as Mr. E. A. Freeman, and the author has +adopted his conclusions upon this point. With him he has therefore admitted the +marriage of Edwy with Elgiva, although it was an uncanonical marriage beyond +all doubt, and has given her the title of queen, which she bore in a document +preserved by Lappenburg. But, in agreement with the same authority, the writer +feels most happy to be able to reject the story of Elgiva’s supposed +tragical death. All sorts of stories are told by later writers, utterly +contradictory and confused, of a woman killed by the Mercians in their revolt. +This could not be Elgiva, for she was not divorced till the rebellion was over; +and even the sad tale that she was seized by the officers of Odo, and branded +to disfigure her beauty, rests on no good authority. In spite of the reluctance +with which men relinquish a touching tragedy, the calumny should be banished +from the pages of historians; and it is painful to see it repeated, as if of +undoubted authenticity, in a recent popular history for children by one of the +greatest of modern novelists. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy’s character has cost the writer much thought. He has endeavoured to +paint him faithfully—not so bad as all the monastic writers of the +succeeding period (the only writers with few exceptions) describe him; but +still such a youth as the circumstances under which he became placed would +probably have made him—capable of sincere attachment, brave, and devoted +to his friends, yet careless of all religious obligations; bitterly hostile to +the Church, that is to Christianity, for the terms were then synonymous; and +reckless of obligations, or of the sanctity of truth and justice. +</p> + +<p> +His measures against St. Dunstan, as they are related in the tale, have the +authority of history; although it is needless to say that the agents are in +part fictitious characters. The writer’s object has been to subordinate +fiction to history, and never to contradict historic fact; if he has failed in +this intention, it has been his misfortune rather than his fault; for he has +had recourse to all such authorities as lay in his reach.<a +href="#EndNoteA1sym" name="EndNoteA1anc"><sup>i</sup></a> Especially, he is +glad to find that the character he had conceived as Edwy’s perfectly +coincides with the description given by Palgrave in his valuable <b>History of +the Anglo-Saxons</b>: +</p> + +<p> +“Edwy was a youth of singular beauty, but vain, rash, petulant, +profligate, and surrounded by a host of young courtiers, all bent on +encouraging and emulating the vices of their master.” +</p> + +<p> +Another object of the tale has been to depict the trials and temptations, the +fall and the recovery, of a lad fresh from a home full of religious influences, +when thrown amidst the snares which abounded then as now. The motto, +“Facilis descensus Averno,” etc, epitomises the whole story. +</p> + +<p> +In relating a tale of the days of St. Dunstan, the author has felt bound to +give the religious colouring which actually prevailed in that day. He has found +much authority and information in Johnson’s Anglo-Saxon Canons, +especially those of Elfric, probably contemporaneous with the tale. He has +written in no controversial spirit, but with an honest desire to set forth the +truth. +</p> + +<p> +It may be objected that he has made all his characters speak in very modern +English, and has not affected the archaisms commonly found in tales of the +time. To this he would reply, that if the genuine language were preserved, it +would be utterly unintelligible to modern Englishmen, and therefore he has +thought it preferable to translate into the vernacular of today. The English +which men spoke then was no more stilted or formal to them than ours is to us. +</p> + +<p> +Although he has followed Mr. Freeman in the use of the terms English and Welsh, +as far less likely to mislead than the terms Saxons and Britons, and far truer +to history, yet he has not thought proper to follow the obsolete spelling of +proper names; he has not, e. g., spelt Edwy, Eadwig or Elgiva, Ælfgifu. Custom +has Latinised the appellations, and as he has rejected obsolete terms in +conversation, he has felt it more consistent to reject these more correct, but +less familiar, orthographies. +</p> + +<p> +The title, “<b>First Chronicle of Æscendune</b>,” has been +adopted, because the tale here given is but the first of a series of tales +which have been told, but not yet written, attaching themselves to the same +family and locality at intervals of generations. Thus, the second illustrates +the struggle between Edmund Ironside and Canute; the third, the Norman +Conquest; etc. Their appearance in print must depend upon the indulgence +extended to the present volume. +</p> + +<p> +In conclusion, the writer dedicates this book with great respect to Mrs. +Trevelyan, authoress of “<b>Lectures upon the History of +England</b>;” whose first volume, years ago, first taught him to +appreciate, in some degree, the character of St. Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +All Saints’ School, Bloxham, +</p> + +<p> +<i>Easter</i> 1874. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/> +“THIS IS THE FOREST PRIMEVAL.”</h2> + +<p> +IT was a lovely eventide of the sunny month of May, and the declining rays of +the sun penetrated the thick foliage of an old English forest, lighting up in +chequered pattern the velvet sward thick with moss, and casting uncertain rays +as the wind shook the boughs. Every bush seemed instinct with life, for April +showers and May sun had united to force each leaf and spray into its fairest +development, and the drowsy hum of countless insects told, as it saluted the +ears, the tale of approaching summer. +</p> + +<p> +Two boys reclined upon the mossy bank beneath an aged oak; their dress, no less +than their general demeanour, denoted them to be the sons of some substantial +thane. They were clad in hunting costume: leggings of skin over boots of +untanned leather protected their limbs from thorn or brier, and over their +under garments they wore tunics of a dull green hue, edged at the collar and +cuffs with brown fur, and fastened by richly ornamented belts: their bows lay +by their sides, while quivers of arrows were suspended to their girdles, and +two spears, such as were used in the chase of the wild boar, lay by them on the +grass. They had the same fair hair, which, untouched by the shears, hung +negligently around neck and shoulder; the same blue eyes added an indescribable +softness to the features; they had the same well-knit frames and agile +movements, but yet there was a difference. The elder seemed possessed of +greater vivacity of expression; but although each well-strung muscle indicated +physical prowess, there was an uncertain expression in his glance and in the +play of his features, which suggested a yielding and somewhat vacillating +character; while the younger, lacking the full physical development, and +somewhat of the engaging expression of his brother, had that calm and steady +bearing which indicated present and future government of the passions. +</p> + +<p> +“By Thor and Woden, Alfred, we shall be here all night. At what hour did +that stupid churl Oscar say that the deer trooped down to drink?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not till sunset, Elfric; and it wants half an hour yet; see, the sun is +still high.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do think it is never going to set; here we have been hunting, hunting +all the day, and got nothing for our pains.” +</p> + +<p> +“You forget the hare and the rabbit here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Toss them to the dogs. Here, Bran, you brute, take this hare your +masters have been hunting all day, for your dinner;” and as he spoke he +tossed the solitary victim of his own prowess in the chase to the huge +wolfhound, which made a speedy meal upon the hare, while Alfred threw the +rabbit to the other of their two canine companions. +</p> + +<p> +“I would almost as soon have lost this holiday, and spent the time with +Father Cuthbert, to be bored by his everlasting talk about our duties, and +forced to repeat ‘<i>hic, hæc, hoc</i>,’ till my head ached. What +a long homily <a href="#EndNoteA2sym" name="EndNoteA2anc"><sup>ii</sup></a> he +preached us this morning —and then that long story about the +saint.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are out of spirits. Father Cuthbert’s tales are not so bad, +after all you seemed to like the legend he told us the other night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, about our ancestor Sebbald and his glorious death; there was +something in that tale worth hearing; it stirred the blood—none of your +moping saints, that Sebbald.” +</p> + +<p> +“I once heard another legend from Father Cuthbert, about the burning of +Croyland Abbey, and how the abbot stood, saying mass at the altar, without +flinching or even turning his head, when the Danes, having fired the place, +broke into the chapel. Do you not think it wanted more bravery to do that in +cold blood than to stand firm in all the excitement of a battle?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are made to be a monk, Alfred, and I daresay, if you get the chance, +will be a martyr, and get put in the calendar by-and-by. I suppose they will +keep your relics here in the priory church, and you will be St. Alfred of +Æscendune; for me, I would sooner die as the old sea kings loved to die, +surrounded by heaps of slain, with my sword broken in my hand.” +</p> + +<p> +It was at this moment that their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a +loud crashing of boughs in the adjacent underwood, a rush as of some wild +beast, a loud cry in boyish tones—“Help! help! the wolf! the +wolf!” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric jumped up in an instant, and rushed forward heedless of danger, followed +closely by his younger brother, who was scarcely less eager to render immediate +assistance. +</p> + +<p> +The cries for help became more and more piercing, as if some pressing danger +menaced the utterer. Elfric, who, in spite of his flippant speech, was by no +means destitute of keen sympathies and self devotion, hurried forward, fearless +of danger, bounding through thicket and underwood, until, arriving upon a small +clearing, the whole scene flashed upon him. +</p> + +<p> +A huge grey wolf, wounded and bleeding, was about to rush for the second time +upon a youth in hunting costume, whose broken spear, broken in the first +encounter with the beast he had disturbed, seemed to deprive him of all chance +of success in the desperate encounter evidently impending. His trembling limbs +showed his extreme apprehension, and the sweat stood in huge drops on his +forehead; his eyes were fixed upon the beast as if he were fascinated, while +the shaft of his spear, presented feebly against the coming onslaught, showed +that he had lost his self possession, for he neglected the bow and arrows which +were slung at his side—if indeed there was time to use them. +</p> + +<p> +The beast sprang, but as he did so another spear was stoutly presented to meet +him, and he literally impaled himself in his eager spring on the weapon of +Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +Still, such was his weight that the boy fell backward beneath the mighty rush, +and such the tenacity of life that, though desperately wounded, even to death, +the beast sought the prostrate lad with teeth and claws, in frantic fury, until +a blow from the hunting knife, which Elfric well knew how to use, laid the wolf +lifeless at his side. +</p> + +<p> +Breathless, but not severely injured, he rose from the ground covered with +blood; his garments torn, his face reddened by exertion, and paused a moment, +while he seemed to strive to repress the wild beatings of his heart, which +bounded as if it would burst its prison. +</p> + +<p> +But far more exhausted was the other combatant, yet scarcely so much by +exertion as by fear, of which he still bore the evident traces. After a few +moments he broke the silence, and his words seemed incoherent. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is my horse? the beast threw me—I wish the wolves may get +him—I fear you are hurt; not much, I hope; where can those serfs be? Fine +vassals, to desert their master in peril. I’ll have them hung. But, by +St. Cuthbert, you are all covered with blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis that of the wolf, then, for I have scarcely a scratch: one of +the beast’s claws ripped up my sleeve, and the skin with it; that was all +he could do before he felt the cold steel between his ribs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a moment too soon, or he would have killed you before we could +interfere; why, as you rolled together, I could hardly see which was boy and +which was wolf. But where’s my horse? Did you see a white horse rush past +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“We heard a rush as of some wild animal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wild enough. I was riding through the glade, and my attendants were on +in front, when we stumbled on this wolf, crouched under that thicket. The horse +started so violently that it threw me almost upon the monster you have +killed.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the speaker paused, and blew impatient blasts upon a horn which had been +slung round his neck. They were soon answered, and some attendants, dressed in +semi-hunting costume, made their appearance with haste and confusion, which +showed their apprehensions. +</p> + +<p> +“Guthred! Eadmer! Why did you get so far away from me? I might have been +killed. Look at this monstrous wolf; why, its teeth are dreadful. It broke my +spear, and would have had me down, but for this—this youth. +</p> + +<p> +“I forgot, I haven’t asked to whom I am indebted. Aren’t you +two brothers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Our father is the Thane of Æscendune. His hall is not far from here. +Will you not go home with us? We have plenty of room for you and yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure I will. Æscendune? I have heard the name: I can’t +remember where. Have you horses?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; we were hunting on foot, and expecting to let fly our shafts at some +deer. May I ask, in return, the name of our guest?” +</p> + +<p> +Before the youth could answer, one of the attendants strode forward, and with +an air of importance replied, “You are about to receive the honour of a +visit from the future lord of Britain, Prince Edwy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Keep your lips closed till I give you leave to open them, Guthred. You +may leave me to announce myself. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be only too glad to go with you both; and these two huntsmen +deserve to be left in the forest to the mercy of your wolves.” +</p> + +<p> +Somewhat startled to find that they had saved the future Basileus or King of +Britain—the hope of the royal line of Cerdic —the brothers led +their guest through the darkening forest until the distant light of a clearing +appeared in the west, and they emerged from the shadow of the trees upon the +brow of a gentle hill. +</p> + +<p> +Below them lay the castle (if such it should be called) of their father the +Thane of Æscendune. Utterly unlike the castellated buildings which, at a later +period, formed the dwellings of the proud Norman nobility, it was a low +irregular building, the lower parts of which were of stone, and the upper +portions, when there was a second story, of thick timber from the forest. +</p> + +<p> +A river, from which the evening mist was slowly rising, lay beyond, and +supplied water to a moat which surrounded the edifice, for in those troublous +times few country dwellings lacked such necessary protection. The memory of the +Danish invasions was too recent; the marauders of either nation still lurked in +the far recesses of the forest, and plundered the Saxon inhabitant or the +Danish settler indiscriminately, as occasion served. +</p> + +<p> +On the inner side of the moat a strong palisade of timber completed the +defence. One portal, opening upon a drawbridge, formed the sole apparent means +of ingress or egress. +</p> + +<p> +Passing the drawbridge unquestioned, the boys entered the courtyard, around +which the chief apartments were grouped. Before them a flight of stone steps +led to the great hall where all the members of the community took their meals +in common, and where, around the great fire, they wiled away the slow hours of +a winter evening. +</p> + +<p> +On each side of the great hall stood the bowers, as the small dormitories were +called, furnished very simply for the use of the higher domestics with small +round tables, common stools, and beds in recesses like boxes or cupboards. Such +were commonly the only sleeping chambers, but at Æscendune, as generally in +the halls of the rich, a wide staircase conducted to a gallery above, from each +side of which opened sleeping and sitting apartments allotted to the use of the +family. It was only in the houses of the wealthy that such an upper floor was +found. +</p> + +<p> +On the right hand, as they entered the courtyard, stood the private chapel of +the household, where mass was said by the chaplain, to whom allusion has been +already made, as the first duty of the day, and where each night generally saw +the household again assembled for compline or evening prayers.<a +href="#EndNoteA3sym" name="EndNoteA3anc"><sup>iii</sup></a> On the left hand +were domestic offices. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the steps of his hall stood Ella, the Thane of Æscendune, the +representative of a long line of warlike ancestors, who had occupied the soil +since the Saxon conquest of Mercia. +</p> + +<p> +He was clad in a woollen tunic reaching to the knee, over which a cloak +fastened by a clasp of gold was loosely thrown; and his feet were clad in black +pointed boots, while strips of painted leather were wound over red stockings +from the knee to the ankle. +</p> + +<p> +“You are late, my sons,” he said, “and I perceive you have +brought us a visitor. He is welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” said Elfric, in a voice somewhat expressive of awe, +“it is Prince Edwy!” +</p> + +<p> +The thane had in his earlier days been at court, and had known the murdered +Edmund, the royal father of his guest, intimately. It was not without emotion, +therefore, that he welcomed the son to his home, and saluted him with that +manly yet reverential homage their relative positions required of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Welcome, thrice welcome, my prince,” he said, “to these +humble halls.” He added, with some emotion, “I could think the +royal Edmund stood before me, as I knew him while yet myself a youth.” +</p> + +<p> +The domestics, who had assembled, gazed upon their visitor with country +curiosity, yet were not wanting in rude but expressive courtesy; and soon he +was conducted to the best chamber the house afforded, where change of raiment +and every comfort within the reach of his host was provided, while the cooks +were charged to make sumptuous additions to the approaching supper. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/> +THE HOUSE OF ÆSCENDUNE.</h2> + +<p> +The earlier fortunes of the house of Æscendune must here obtrude themselves +upon the notice of the reader, in order that he may more easily comprehend the +subsequent pages of our veritable history. +</p> + +<p> +Sebbald, the remote ancestor of the family, was amongst the earliest Saxon +conquerors of Mercia. He fell in battle with the Britons, or Welshmen as our +ancestors called them, leaving sons valiant as their sire, to whom were given +the fertile lands lying between the river Avon and the mighty midland forests, +to which they gave the name “Æscendune.” +</p> + +<p> +They had held their own for three hundred years with varying fortunes; once or +twice home and hearth were desolated by the fierce tide of Danish invasion, but +the wars subsided, and the old family resumed its position, amidst the joy of +their dependants and serfs, to whom they were endeared by a thousand memories +of past benefits. +</p> + +<p> +But a generation only had passed since the shadow of a great woe fell on the +family of Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +Offa, who was then the thane, had two sons, Oswald the elder, and Ella the +younger, with whom our readers are already acquainted. +</p> + +<p> +The elder possessed few of the family virtues save brute courage. He was ever +rebellious, even in boyhood, and arrived at man’s estate in the midst of +unsettled times of war and tumult. Weary of the restraints of home, he joined a +band of Danish marauders, and shared their victories, enriching himself with +the spoils of his own countrymen. Thus he remained an outlaw, for his father +disowned him in consequence of his crime, until, fighting against his own +people in the great battle of Brunanburgh, <a href="#EndNoteA4sym" +name="EndNoteA4anc"><sup>iv</sup></a> where Athelstane so gloriously conquered +the allied Danes, Scots, and Welsh, he was taken prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +The victor king sat in judgment upon the recreant, surrounded by his chief +nobility and vassal kings. The guilt of the prisoner was evident, nay undenied, +and the respect in which his sire was held alone delayed the doom of a cruel +death from being pronounced upon him. +</p> + +<p> +While the council yet deliberated, Offa appeared amongst them, and, like a +second Brutus, took his place amongst his peers. Disclaiming all personal +interest in the matter, he sternly proposed that the claims of justice should +be satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +Yet they hesitated to shed Oswald’s blood: the alternative they adopted +was perhaps not more merciful—although a common doom in those times. They +selected a crazy worm-eaten boat, and sent the criminal to sea, without sail, +oar, or rudder, with a loaf of bread and cruse of water, the wind blowing +freshly from off the land. +</p> + +<p> +Oswald was never heard of again; but after his supposed death, information was +brought to his father that the outlaw had been married to a Danish woman, and +had left a son—an orphan—for the mother died in childbirth. +</p> + +<p> +Offa resolved to seek the boy, and to adopt him, as if in reparation for the +past. The effort he had made had cost him a bitter pang, and the father’s +heart was well-nigh broken. For a time the inquiries were unsuccessful. It was +discovered that the mother was dead, that she had died before the tragedy, but +not a word could be learned respecting the boy, and many had begun to doubt his +existence, when, after years had elapsed, one of the executioners of the cruel +doom deposed on his deathbed that a boy of some ten summers had appeared on the +beach, had called the victim “father,” and had so persistently +entreated to share his doom, that they had allowed him to do so, but had +concealed the fact, rightly fearing blame, if not punishment. The priest who +had attended his dying bed, and heard his last confession, bore the tidings to +Offa at the penitent’s desire. +</p> + +<p> +The old thane never seemed to lift up his head again: the sacrifice his sense +of duty had exacted from him had been too great for a heart naturally full of +domestic affection, and he sank and died after a few months in the arms of his +younger and beloved son Ella. +</p> + +<p> +The foundation of the neighbouring priory and church of St. Wilfred had been +the consolation of his later years, but the work was only half completed at his +death. It was carried on with equal zeal by Ella, now the Thane of Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +He married Edith, the daughter of a rich thane of Wessex, and the marriage +proved a most happy one. +</p> + +<p> +Sincerely religious, after the fashion of their day, they honoured God with +their substance, enriched the church of St. Wilfred, where the dust of the aged +Offa awaited the resurrection of the just, and continued the labour of building +the priory. Day after day they were constant in their attendance at mass and +evensong, and strove to live as foster parents to their dependants and serfs. +</p> + +<p> +The chief man in his hundred, Ella acted as reeve or magistrate, holding his +court for the administration of justice each month, and giving such just +judgment as became one who had the fear of God before him. No appeal was ever +made from him to the ealdorman (earl) or scirgerefa (sheriff) and the wisdom +and mercy of his rule were universally renowned. +</p> + +<p> +His land was partly cultivated by his own theows, who were in those days slaves +attached to the soil, and partly let out to free husbandmen (or ceorls) who +owed their lord rent in kind or in money, and paid him, as “his +men,” feudal service. +</p> + +<p> +Around his hospitable board the poor of the district found sustenance, while +work was made for all in draining meres, mending roads, building the priory, or +in the various agricultural labours of the year. +</p> + +<p> +In the first year of King Edmund the lady Edith presented her lord with his +first-born son, to whom in baptism they gave the name Elfric, and a year later +Alfred was born, and named after the great king. One daughter, named Edgitha, +completed the fruits of their happy union, and in their simple fashion they +strove to train their children in the fear of the Lord. +</p> + +<p> +We will now resume the thread of our story. +</p> + +<p> +It was now the hour of eventide, and the time for “laying the +board” drew near. From forest and field came in ceorl and theow, hanging +up their weapons or agricultural implements around the lower end of the hall. +Meanwhile the domestics brought in large tressels, and then huge heavy boards, +which they arranged so as to form the dining table, shaped like the letter T, +the upper portion being furnished with the richest dainties for the family and +their guest, the lower with simpler fare for the dependents. +</p> + +<p> +A wild boar caught in the forest formed the chief dish, and was placed at the +upper end, while mutton and beef; dressed in various ways, flanked it on either +side. +</p> + +<p> +The thane, Ella, occupied the central seat at the high table: his chair, rudely +carved, had borne the weight of his ancestors before him; on his left hand was +seated the once lovely Edith. Age had deprived her of her youthful beauty, but +not of the sweet expression which told of her gentleness and purity of heart; +they had left their impress on each line of her speaking countenance; and few +left her presence unimpressed with respect and esteem. +</p> + +<p> +On his right hand sat Prince Edwy, “Edwy the fair” men called him, +and right well he deserved the name. His face was one which inspired interest +at a glance: his large blue eyes, his golden hair which floated over his +shoulders, his sweet voice, his graceful bearing, all united to impress the +beholders. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric, Alfred, and their sister Edgitha, completed the company at the high +table. +</p> + +<p> +The hungry crowd of ceorls and serfs, who were, as we have said, fresh from +field or forest, sat at the lower table, which was spread with huge joints of +roasted meat, loaves of bread, wedges of cheese, piles of cabbage or other +vegetables, rolls or coils of broiled eels, and huge pieces of boiled pork or +bacon. +</p> + +<p> +Around the table sat the hounds and other dogs, open jawed, waiting such good +luck as they might hope to receive at the hands of their masters, while many +“loaf eaters,” as the serfs were called who fed at their +master’s table, stood with the dogs, or sat on the rush-strewn floor, for +want of room at the board. +</p> + +<p> +It was marvellous to see how the food disappeared, as hand after hand was +stretched out to the dishes, in the absence of forks—a modern +invention—and huge horns of ale helped the meat downwards. +</p> + +<p> +Game, steaks of beef and venison on spits, were handed round. The choicer +joints were indeed reserved for the upper board, but profusion was the rule +everywhere throughout the hall, and there was probably not a serf; nay, not +even a dog, whose appetite was not fully satisfied before the end of the feast. +</p> + +<p> +The prince seemed thoroughly to have recovered his spirits, somewhat damped +perhaps before by his adventure with the wolf; and exerted his talents to make +himself agreeable. He had seen life on an extended scale, young as he was, and +his anecdotes of London and the court, if a little wild, were still +interesting. Elfric and Alfred listened to his somewhat random talk, with that +respect boys ever pay to those who have seen more of the wide world than +themselves—a respect perhaps heightened by the high rank of their +princely guest, who was, however, only a month or two older than Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +As they heard of the marvels of London, and of the court, home and its +attractions seemed to become dim by comparison, and Elfric especially longed to +share such happiness. +</p> + +<p> +Their father seemed to wish to change the conversation, as he asked the prince +whether he had been long in Mercia. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy replied, “Nay, my host; this is almost my first day of perfect +freedom, and I only left London, and my uncle the king, a few days back. +Dunstan has gone down to Glastonbury, for which the Saints be thanked, and I am +released for a few days from poring over the musty old manuscripts to which he +dooms me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is well, my prince, that you should have a preceptor so well +qualified to instruct you in the arts your great ancestor King Alfred so nobly +adorned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah yes, Alfred,” said Edwy, yawning; “but you know we +can’t all be saints or heroes like him: for my part, I sometimes wish he +had never lived.” +</p> + +<p> +The astonished looks of the company seemed to demand further explanation. +</p> + +<p> +“Because it is always, ‘Alfred did this,’ and ‘Alfred +did that.’ If I am tired of ‘<i>hic, hæc, hoc</i>,’ I am +told Alfred was never weary; if I complain of a headache, Dunstan says Alfred +never complained of pain or illness, but bore all with heroic fortitude, and +all the rest of it. If I want a better dinner than my respected uncle gives us +on fast days in the palace, I am told Alfred never ate anything beyond a +handful of parched corn on such days; if I lose my temper, I am told Alfred +never lost his; and so on, till I get sick of his name; and here it greets me +in the woods of Mercia.” +</p> + +<p> +“I crave pardon, my liege,” said Ella, who hardly knew whether to +smile or frown at the sarcastic petulance of his guest, who went on with a sly +smile—“And now old Dunstan does not know where I am. He left me +with a huge pile of books in musty Latin, or crabbed English, and I had to read +this and to write that, as if I were no prince, but a scrivener, and had to get +my living by my pen; but as soon as he was gone I had a headache, and persuaded +my venerable uncle the king, through the physician, that I needed change of +air.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what will Dunstan say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he must fight it out with Sigebert the leech, and Sigebert knows +which side his bread is buttered.” +</p> + +<p> +The whole tone of Edwy indicated plainly that the headache was but a pretence, +but he spoke with such sly simplicity that the boys could not help joining in +his contagious laughter; sympathising, doubtless, in his love of a holiday in +the woods. +</p> + +<p> +“Your headache is not gone yet, I trust, my prince,” said Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” said Edwy, turning his eyes upon him with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Because we have splendid woods near here for hunting, and I must +have” (he whispered these words into Edwy’s ear) “a headache, +too.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy quite understood the request conveyed in these words, and turning to the +old thane requested him to allow his boys to join the sport on the morrow as a +kind of bodyguard, adding some very complimentary words on the subject of +Elfric’s courage shown in the rescue that afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes,” said the old thane, “I have always tried to bring +up the boys so as to fear neither man nor beast, and Elfric did indifferently +well in the tussle. So he has earned a holiday for himself and brother, with +Father Cuthbert’s leave,” and Ella turned to the ecclesiastic. +</p> + +<p> +“They are good boys,” said the priest, “only, my lord, Elfric +is somewhat behind in his studies.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric’s looks expressed his contempt of the “studies,” but +he dared not express the feeling before his father. +</p> + +<p> +“But I trust, my prince,” said Ella, “that we shall not keep +you from your duties at court. Dunstan is a severe, although a holy man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he is gone to have another encounter with the Evil One at +Glastonbury, and is fashioning a pair of tongs for the purpose,” said +Edwy, alluding to the legend already current amongst the credulous populace; +“and I wish,” he muttered, “the Evil One would get the best +of it and fly away with him. But” (in a louder tone) “he cannot +return for a month, which means a month’s holiday for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Ella could interpose no further objection, although scarcely satisfied with the +programme. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation here became general. It turned upon the subject of hunting and +war, and the enthusiasm of young Edwy quite captivated the thane, who seemed to +see Edmund, the father of the young prince, before his eyes, as he had known +him in his own impetuous youth. Dear, indeed, had that prince been to Ella, +both before and after his elevation to the throne, and as he heard the sweet +boyish voice of Edwy, his thoughts were guided by memory to that ill-omened +feast at Pucklechurch, where the vindictive outlaw Leolf had murdered his king. +The sword of Ella had been amongst those which avenged the crime on the +murderer, but they could not call back the vital spark which had fled. +“Edmund the Magnificent,” as they loved to call him, was dead. <a +href="#EndNoteA5sym" name="EndNoteA5anc"><sup>v</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +So, as Ella listened, he could hardly help condoning the wild speeches of the +young prince in deference to the memory of the past. +</p> + +<p> +And now they removed the festive board from the hall, while kneeling serfs +offered basin and towel to the thane and his guest to wash their hands. Wine +began to circulate freely in goblets of wood inlaid with gold or silver; the +clinking of cups, the drinking of healths and pledges opened the revel, +cupbearers poured out the wine. The glee-wood (harp) was introduced, while +pipes, flutes, and soft horns accompanied its strains. So they sang— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Here Athelstane king,<br/> +Of earls the lord,<br/> +To warriors the ring-giver<br/> +Glory world-long<br/> +Had won in the strife,<br/> +By edge of the sword,<br/> +At Brunanburgh. +</p> + +<p> +And Ella—who had stood by his father’s side in that dread field +where Danes, Scots, and Welshmen fled before the English sword—listened +with enthusiasm, till he thought of his brother Oswald, when tears, unobserved, +rolled down his cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Not so with the boys. They had no secret sorrow to hide, and they listened like +those whose young blood boils at the thought of mighty deeds, and longed to +imitate them. And when the gleeman finished his lengthy flight of music and +poesy, they applauded him till the roof rang again. +</p> + +<p> +Song followed song, legend legend, the revelry grew louder, while the lady +Edith, with her daughter, retired to their bower, where they employed their +needles on delicate embroidery. A representation in bright colours of the +consecration of the church of St. Wilfred occupied the hands of the little +Edgitha, while her mother wove sacred pictures to serve as hangings for the +sanctuary of the priory church. +</p> + +<p> +But soon the tolling of the bell announced that it was the compline hour, nine +o’clock, and that hour was never allowed to pass unobserved at +Æscendune, but formed the termination of the labour or the feast, after which +it was customary for the whole household to retire, as well they might who rose +with the early dawn. +</p> + +<p> +Neither was it passed by on this occasion, although the boys looked very +disappointed, for they would fain have listened to song or legend till +midnight, if not later. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my children,” said the thane; “we must rise early, so +let us all commit ourselves to the keeping of God and His holy angels, and seek +our pillows.” +</p> + +<p> +So the whole party repaired to the chapel, where the chaplain said the compline +office or night song, after which Ella saluted his royal guest with reverent +affection, and bestowed his paternal benediction upon his children. Then the +whole party separated for the night. +</p> + +<p> +The household was speedily buried in sleep, save the solitary sentinel who +paced around the building. Not that danger was apprehended from any source, but +precaution had become habitual in those days of turmoil. Occasionally the howl +of the wolf was heard from the woods, and the sleepers half awoke, then dreamt +of the chase as the night flew by. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/> +LEAVING HOME.</h2> + +<p> +The sun arose in a bright and cloudless sky on the following morning, and his +first beams aroused every sleeper in the hall of Æscendune from his couch of +straw, for softer material was seldom or never used for repose. Even the +chamber in which the prince slept could not be called luxurious: the bed was in +a box-like recess; its coverlets, worked richly by the fair hands of the +ladies, who had little other occupation, covered a mattress which even modern +schoolboys would call rough and uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +The wind played with the tapestry which represented the history of Joseph and +his brethren, as it found its way in through crevices in the ill-built walls. +There were two or three stools over which the thane’s care for his guest +had caused coverlets to be thrown; a round table of rough construction stood +like a tripod on three legs, upon which stood the unwonted luxury of ewer and +basin, for most people had to perform their ablutions at the nearest convenient +well or spring. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving this chamber in good time, Prince Edwy acompanied his new friends to +the priory church, where they heard mass before the sun was high in the +heavens, after which they returned to the hall to take a light breakfast before +they sought the attractions of the chase in the forest. Full of life they +mounted their horses, and galloped in the wild exuberance of animal spirits +with their dogs through the leafy arches of the forest, startling the red deer, +the wolf, or the wild boar. Soon they roused a mighty individual of the latter +tribe, who turned to bay, when the boys dismounted and finished the affair with +their boar spears, not without some personal danger, and the loss of a couple +of dogs. +</p> + +<p> +Onward again they swept, past leafy glades of beech trees, where the swineherd +drove his half-tame charges, or where the woodcutters plied their toil, and +loaded their rude carts or hand barrows with fuel for the kitchen of the hall; +past rookeries, where the birds made the air lively by their noise; over brook, +through the half-dry marsh, until they came upon an old wolf; whom they +followed and slew for want of better game, not without a desperate struggle, in +which Elfric, ever the foremost, got a much worse scratch than on the preceding +day. +</p> + +<p> +But how enjoyable the sport was, how sweet to breathe the bright pure air of +that May day; how grand to outstrip the wind over the yielding turf, and at +last to carry home the trophies of their prowess; the scalp of the wolf, the +tusks of the boar, leaving the serfs to bring in the succulent flesh of the +latter, while the hawks and crows fed upon the former. +</p> + +<p> +And then with what appetite they sat down to their “noon meat,” +taken, however, at the late hour of three, after which they wandered down to +the river and angled for the trout which abounded in the clear stream. +</p> + +<p> +The youthful reader will not wonder that such attractions sufficed to detain +Edwy several days, during which he was continually hunting in the adjacent +forests, always attended by Elfric, and sometimes by Alfred. To the elder +brother he seemed to have conceived a real liking, and expressed great +reluctance to part with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Could you not return with me to court,” he said, “and +relieve the tedium of old Dunstan’s society? You cannot think what +pleasures London affords; it is life there indeed—it is true there are no +forests like these, but then, in the winter, when the country is so dreary, the +town is the place.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father will never consent to my leaving home,” returned Elfric, +who inwardly felt his heart was with the prince. +</p> + +<p> +“We might overcome that. I am to have a page. You might be nominally my +page, really my companion; and should I ever be king, you would find you had +not served me in vain.” +</p> + +<p> +The idea had got such strong possession of the mind of Edwy, that he ventilated +it the same night at the supper table, but met with scant encouragement. Still +he did not despair; for, as he told Elfric, the influence of his royal uncle, +King Edred, might be hopefully exerted on their joint behalf. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean to get you to town,” he said. “I shall persuade my +old uncle, who is more a monk than a king, that you are dreadfully pious, +attached to monkish Latin, and all that sort of thing, so that he will long to +get you to town, if it is only to set an example to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if he does not find that I answer his expectations?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it will be too late to alter then; you will be comfortably installed +in the palace; and, between you and me, he is but old and feeble, and has +always had a disease of some kind. I expect he will soon die, and then who will +be king save Edwy, and who in England shall be higher than his friend +Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +It was a brilliant prospect, as it seemed to boys of fifteen, for such was the +mature age of the speakers. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after the last conversation, an express came from the court to seek the +young prince—the messenger had been long delayed from ignorance of the +present abode of Edwy, who had carefully concealed the secret until he felt he +could tarry no longer, fearing the wrath not only of the king, but of Dunstan, +whom he dreaded yet more than his uncle. +</p> + +<p> +So he and his attendants, who had, like him, found pleasant entertainment at +Æscendune, bade farewell to the home where he had been so hospitably +entertained: and so ended a visit, pregnant with the most important results, +then utterly unforeseen and unintended, to the family he had honoured by his +presence. +</p> + +<p> +Some few weeks passed, and under the tuition of their chaplain, who was charged +with their education, Elfric and Alfred had returned to their usual course of +life. +</p> + +<p> +It would seem somewhat a hard one to a lover of modern ease. They rose early, +as we have already seen, and before breaking their fast went with their father +and most of the household to the early mass at the monastery of St. Wilfred, +returned to an early meal, and then worked hard, on ordinary occasions at their +Latin, and such other studies as were pursued in that primitive age of England. +The midday meal was succeeded by somewhat severe bodily exercise, generally +hunting the boar or wolf which still abounded in the forests, an excitement not +unattended by danger, which, however, their father would never permit them to +shun. He knew full well the importance of personal courage at an age when the +dangers of hunting were only initiatory to the stern duties of war, and no +Englishman could shun the latter when his country called upon him to take up +arms. Nor were martial exercises unknown to the boys; the bow, it is true, was +somewhat neglected then in England, but the use of sword, shield, and +battle-axe was daily inculcated. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Si vis pacem</i>,” Father Cuthbert said on such occasions, +“<i>para arma.</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Wearied by their exertions, whether at home or abroad, the brothers welcomed +the evening social meal, and the rest which followed, when old Saxon legend or +the harp of the gleeman enlivened the household fire, till compline sweetly +closed the day. +</p> + +<p> +Swiftly and pleasantly were passing the weeks succeeding the visit of the +prince, when a royal messenger appeared, bearing a letter sealed with the +king’s signet. The old thane, who had passed his youth in more troublous +times, and could scarcely read the Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels, then +extant, could not construe the monkish Latin in which it was King Edred’s +good pleasure to write. +</p> + +<p> +So the chaplain, Cuthbert, read him the letter in which the king greeted his +loyal and well-beloved subject, Ella of Æscendune, and begged of him, as a +great favour, that he would send his eldest boy to court, to be the companion +of the young prince, who had (the king said) conceived a great affection for +Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“I hear,” added Edred, “that your boy is a boy after his +father’s heart, full of love for the saints, diligent in his studies, and +I trust well qualified to amend by example the somewhat giddy ways of my +nephew.” +</p> + +<p> +Ella felt that this latter commendation might be better bestowed upon Alfred, +who, although far less full of boyish spirit and energy than his brother, was +far more attached to his religious duties, as also far more attentive to the +wishes of his parents; but his love for Elfric blinded him to more serious +defects in the character of his son, or he might have feared their development +in a congenial soil. +</p> + +<p> +So the father saw his boy alone, and communicated the contents of the letter. +The news was indeed welcome to Elfric, who panted for travel and adventure and +the freedom he fancied he should get in Edwy’s society. But Ella hardly +perceived this, and enlarged upon the dangers to which his son would be +exposed, and tried to put before the boy all the “pros “ and +“cons” of the question faithfully. +</p> + +<p> +“He would not keep him back,” he said, “if he desired to +leave home,” but as he uttered the words he felt his heart very heavy, +for Æscendune would lose half its brightness in losing Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +But Elfric’s choice was already made, and he only succeeded in repressing +his delight with great difficulty, in deference to the serious aspect and words +of his revered sire. But his decision, for it was left to him, was unchanged, +and he stammered forth his desire to be a man, and to see the world, in words +mingled with expressions of his deep love for his parents, which he was sure +nothing could ever change. +</p> + +<p> +Strange to say, now that the parental consent was gained, and no obstacle lay +between him and the accomplishment of his ardent wish, he did not feel half so +happy as he had expected to feel. Home affections seemed to increase as the +hours rushed by which were to be his last in the bosom of his family; every +familiar object became precious as the thought arose that it might be seen for +the last time; favourites, both men and animals, had to be bidden farewell. +There was the old forester, the gleeman, the warder, the gardener, the +chamberlain, the cellarius, the cook (not an unimportant personage in Saxon +households), the foster mother, his old nurse, and many a friend in the +village. Then there were his favourite dogs, his pony, some pigeons he had +reared; and all had some claim on his affection, home nurtured as he had been +in a most kindly household. +</p> + +<p> +But the appointed day came, the horse which was to bear him away stood at the +door, another horse loaded with his personal effects stood near, for carriages +were then unknown, neither would the roads have permitted their use, so changed +were the times since the Roman period. +</p> + +<p> +His father and mother, his brother and sister, stood without the drawbridge, +where the last goodbye took place; tears started unbidden to his eyes—he +was only fifteen—as he heard the parting blessing, and as his mother +pressed him to her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred and his sister Edith seemed almost broken hearted at the parting. But +Elfric tried to bear up, and the end came. +</p> + +<p> +The little cavalcade left the castle, two attendants, well armed and mounted, +being his bodyguard. +</p> + +<p> +Again and again he looked back; and when, after a journey of two miles, the +envious woods closed in, and hid the dear familiar home from his sight, a +strange sense of desolation rushed upon him, as if he were alone in the world. +</p> + +<p> +The route taken by the cavalcade led them in the first place to Warwick, even +then a flourishing Saxon town: this was the limit of Elfric’s previous +wanderings, and when they left it for the south, the whole country was strange +to him. +</p> + +<p> +The royal messenger had business at the cathedral city of Dorchester, at the +junction of the Tame and Isis, and they did not take the more direct route by +the Watling Street, the most perfect Roman road remaining. The land was but +thinly peopled, forests covered the greater portion, and desolate marshes much +of the remainder; thus, through alternate forest and marsh, the travellers +advanced along the ruinous remains of an old Roman crossroad, which had once +afforded good accommodation to travellers, but had been suffered to fall into +utter ruin and decay by the neglect of their successors, our own barbarous +ancestors. +</p> + +<p> +Originally it had been paved with stone, and causeways had been formed over +marsh and mere, but the stones had been taken away, for the road formed the +most accessible quarry in the neighbourhood. Here and there, however, it was +still good, surviving the wear of centuries, and even the old mileposts of iron +were still existing covered with rust, with the letters denoting so many Roman +miles—or thousands of paces—still legible. +</p> + +<p> +A few hours’ riding from Warwick brought them at the close of the day in +sight of Beranbyrig (Banbury), where three centuries earlier a bloody battle +had been fought, <a href="#EndNoteA6sym" name="EndNoteA6anc"><sup>vi</sup></a> +wherein success—almost for the last time—visited the British arms, +and saved the Celtic race from expulsion for twenty years. +</p> + +<p> +The spot was very interesting to Elfric, for here his ancestor Sebbald had +fought by the side of the invading king, Cynric, the son of Cerdic, and had +fallen “gloriously” on the field. +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” said Anlaf, the guide, “at that sloping ground which +rises to the northwest. There the Welsh (Britons) stood, formed in nine strong +battalions. In that hollow they placed their archers, and here their javelin +men and cavalry were arranged after the old Roman fashion. Our Englishmen were +all in one battalion, and charged them fiercely, when they were thrown into +confusion by the cunning tricks of the Welsh, who made up in craft what they +wanted in manly courage. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at this brook which flows to the river, it was running with blood +that evening, and our men lay piled in huge heaps where they tried to scale the +hill which you see yonder.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did the Welsh gain the day so easily?” said Elfric, +sorrowfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t wonder; they were fighting for their lives, and even a rat +will fight if you get him into a corner; besides, they had all their best men +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know where Sebbald fell?” said Elfric, referring to his own +ancestor. +</p> + +<p> +“Just under this hillock, close by King Cynric, who fought like a lion to +save the body, but was unable to do so. The Welsh were then gaining the day. +Still, even his foes respected his valour, and gave your forefather a fair and +honourable burial.” +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the battlefield, they entered the Saxon town, which was defended on one +side by the Cherwell, on the other by a mound and palisade, with an outer ditch +supplied by the river. Here they found hospitable entertainment, and left on +the morrow for the town of Kirtlington. +</p> + +<p> +They left Beranbyrig early, and reached the village of Sutthun (King’s +Sutton), where they perceived a great multitude of people collected around a +well at the outskirts of the village. +</p> + +<p> +“What are these people doing?” asked Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do you not know?” replied Anlaf. “This is St. +Rumbald’s well,” and he crossed himself piously. +</p> + +<p> +“Who was St. Rumbald?” asked Elfric innocently. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he was son of the king of Northumbria, and of his queen, the +daughter of the old king Penda of Mercia, and the strange thing is that he is a +saint although he only lived three days.” +</p> + +<p> +“How could that be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why it was a miracle, you see. On the day after his birth he was taken +to Braceleam (Brackley), where he was baptized, and after his baptism he +actually preached an eloquent sermon to the people. They brought him back to +Sutthun next day, where he died, having first blessed this well, so that many +precious gifts of healing are shown thereat. His relics were removed first to +Braceleam, then to Buccingaham (Buckingham), where his shrine is venerated by +the faithful. But come, you must drink of the holy water.” +</p> + +<p> +So they approached the spot, and, after much labour to get at the well, drank +of the water, which had a brackish taste, and proceeded on their journey +southward through Kirtlington, then a considerable city, although now a small +village. It was their intention to pass by the cathedral city of Dorchester, +where Wulfstan was then bishop, where they arrived on the second night of their +journey. +</p> + +<p> +It was the largest city Elfric had as yet seen, possessing several churches, of +which only one now remains. The hand of the ruthless Danes had not yet been +laid heavily upon it, and the magnificence of the sacred fanes, built by +cunning architects from abroad, amazed the Mercian boy. +</p> + +<p> +There was the tomb of the great Birinus, the apostle of Mercia, who had founded +the see in the year 630 A.D., and to whose shrine multitudes of pilgrims +flocked each year. But the remains of Roman greatness most astonished Elfric. +The ruins of the amphitheatre situate near the river Tame were grand even in +their decay, and all the imaginative faculties of the boy were aroused, as one +of the most learned inhabitants described the scenes of former days, of which +tradition had been preserved, the gladiatorial combats, the wild beast fights. +</p> + +<p> +The heir of Æscendune found hospitality at the episcopal palace, where +Wulfstan,<a href="#EndNoteA7sym" name="EndNoteA7anc"><sup>vii</sup></a> once +the turbulent Archbishop of York, held his court. The prelate seemed favourably +impressed with his youthful guest, whom he dismissed with a warm commendation +to Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +They left the city early in the morning, and passed through Bænesington +(Benson), which having been originally taken from the Welsh by the Saxon +chieftain Cuthulf, in the year 571, became the scene of the great victory of +Offa, the Mercian king, over Cynewulf of Wessex in the year 777. One of +Elfric’s ancestors had fought on the side of Offa, and the exploits of +this doughty warrior had formed the subject of a ballad often sung in the +winter evenings at Æscendune, so that Elfric explored the scene with great +curiosity. Inferior to Dorchester, it was still a considerable town. +</p> + +<p> +Late at night they reached Reading, where they slept, and started early on the +morrow for London, where they arrived on the evening of the fourth day. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/> +LONDON IN THE OLDEN TIME.</h2> + +<p> +London, in the days of King Edred, differed widely from the stately and +populous city we know in these days, and almost as widely from the elegant +“<i>Colonia Augusta</i>,” or Londinium, of the Roman period. +Narrow, crooked, and unpaved lanes wound between houses, or rather lowly +cottages, built of timber, and roofed with thatch, so that it is not wonderful +that a conflagration was an event to be dreaded. +</p> + +<p> +Evidence met the eye on every side how utterly the first Englishmen had failed +to preserve the cities they had conquered, and how far inferior they were in +cultivation, or rather civilisation, to the softer race they had so ruthlessly +expelled; for on every side broken pedestal and shattered column appeared +clumsily imbedded in the rude domestic architecture of our forefathers. +</p> + +<p> +St. Paul’s Cathedral rose on the hill once sacred to Diana but was wholly +built within the ruins of the vast temple which had once occupied the site, and +which, magnificent in decay, still surrounded it like an outwork. Further on +were the wrecks of the citadel, where once the stern legionary had watched by +day and night, and where Roman discipline and order had held sway, while the +wall raised by Constantine, broken and imperfect, still rose on the banks of +the river. Near the Ludgate was the palace of the Saxon king, and the ruins of +an aqueduct overshadowed its humbler portal, while without the walls the river +Fleet rolled, amidst vineyards and pleasant meadows dotted with houses, to join +the mighty Thames. +</p> + +<p> +Edred, the reigning king of England, was the brother of the murdered Edmund, +and, in accordance with the custom of the day, had ascended the throne on the +death of his brother, seeing that the two infant sons of the late king, Edwy +and Edgar, were too young to reign, and the idea of hereditary right was not +sufficiently developed in the minds of our forefathers to suggest the notion of +a regency. It must also be remembered that, within certain limits, there was an +elective power in the Witenagemot or Parliament, although generally limited in +its scope to members of the royal family. +</p> + +<p> +Edred was of very delicate constitution, and suffered from an inward disease +which seldom allowed him an interval of rest and ease. Like so many sufferers +he had found his consolation in religion, and the only crime ever laid to his +charge (if it were a crime) was that he loved the Church too much. Still he had +repeatedly proved that he was strong in purpose and will, and the insurgent +Danes who had settled in Northumbria had owned his prowess. In the internal +affairs of his kingdom he was chiefly governed by the advice of the great +ecclesiastic and statesman, with whose name our readers will shortly become +familiar. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the morning after the arrival of Elfric in London, Edwy, the young prince, +and his new companion, sat in a room on the upper floor of the palace, which +had but two floors, and would have been considered in these days very deficient +in architectural beauty. +</p> + +<p> +The window of the room opened upon the river, and commanded a pleasant view of +the woods and meadows on the Surrey side, then almost uninhabited, being +completely unprotected in case of invasion, a contingency never long absent +from the mind in the days of the sea kings. +</p> + +<p> +A table covered with manuscripts, both in Latin and Anglo-Saxon, occupied the +centre of the room, and there Elfric was seated, looking somewhat aimlessly at +a Latin vocabulary, while Edwy was standing listlessly at the window. The +“library,” if it deserved the name, was very unlike a modern +library; books were few, and yet very expensive, so that perhaps there was no +fuller collection in any layman’s house in the kingdom. There were +Alfred’s translations into Anglo-Saxon, the “<i>Chronicle of +Orosius</i>,” or the history of the World; the “<i>History of the +Venerable Bede</i>,” both in his original Latin and in English; Boethius +on the “<i>Consolations of Philosophy</i>;” narratives from ancient +mythology; extracts from the works of St. Augustine and St. Gregory; and the +Apologues or Fables from Æsop.<a href="#EndNoteA8sym" +name="EndNoteA8anc"><sup>viii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, put those stupid books aside,” exclaimed the prince; +“this is your first day in town, and I mean to take a holiday; that surly +old Dunstan should have left word to that effect last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will he not be here soon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he is coming this morning, the old bear, to superintend my +progress, and I wish him joy thereof.” +</p> + +<p> +“What has he given you to do?” inquired Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, a wretched exercise to write out. There, you see it before you; +isn’t it a nuisance?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not very hard, is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think it hard? See whether you can do it!” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric smiled, and wrote out the simple Latin with ease, for he had been well +instructed by Father Cuthbert at Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +He had scarcely finished when a firm step was heard upon the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush,” said Edwy; “here comes Dunstan. Be sure you look +solemn enough,” and he composed his own countenance into an expression of +preternatural gravity. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, and an ecclesiastic in the prime of life entered the room, one +whose mien impressed the beholder with an indefinable awe. +</p> + +<p> +He was dressed in the Benedictine habit, just then becoming common in England, +and his features were those of a man formed by nature to command, while they +reconciled the beholder to the admission of the fact by the sad yet sweet smile +which frequently played on the shapely countenance. He was now in the thirtieth +year of his age, having been born in the first year of King Athelstane, and had +been abbot of Glastonbury for several years, although his services as +counsellor to King Edred had led him to spend much of his time in town, and he +had therefore accepted the general direction of the education of the heir to +the throne. Such was Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +He seemed but little welcome to Edwy, and the benediction with which he greeted +his pupil was but coldly received. +</p> + +<p> +Not appearing to notice this, he mildly said, “You must introduce your +young companion to me, my prince. Am I not right in concluding that I see +before me Elfric, heir to the lands of Æscendune?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric blushed as he bent the knee to the great churchman to receive the +priestly benediction with which he was greeted, but remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Father Cuthbert, whom I knew well years agone, has told me about you, +and your brother Alfred; is not that his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is so named, my father.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad to perceive that my royal pupil has chosen so meet a +companion, for Father Cuthbert speaks well of your learning. You write the +Latin tongue, he tells me, with some little facility.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric feared his powers had been overrated. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust you have resumed your studies after your long holiday,” +continued Dunstan. “Youth is the season for sowing, age for +reaping.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have had a very bad headache,” said Edwy, “and have only +been able to write a page of Latin. Here it is, father.” +</p> + +<p> +And he extended the exercise Elfric had written to the abbot, who looked at the +writing for one moment, and then glanced severely at the prince. The character +was very like his own, but there was a difference. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this your handwriting, Prince Edwy?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. Elfric saw me write it, did you not?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric was not used to falsehood; he could not frame his lips to say +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan observed his confusion, and he turned to the prince with a look in +which contempt seemed to struggle with passive self-possession. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust, Edwy,” he said, “you will remember that the word of +a king is said to be his bond, and so should the word of a prince be if he ever +hopes to reign. I shall give Father Benedict charge to superintend your studies +as usual.” +</p> + +<p> +He wished them a grave good morning, and left the room. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the last sound of his steps had ceased, Edwy turned sharply to +Elfric—“Why did you not say yes at once? Surely you have a +tongue?” +</p> + +<p> +“It has never learnt to lie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh! What is the harm of such a white lie as that would have been? If +you cannot give the credit of a Latin exercise, which you happen to have +written, to your future king, you must be selfish; it is my writing, if you +give it me, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric did not quite see the matter in that light, yet did not care to dispute +the point; but his conscience was ill at ease, and he was glad to change the +subject. +</p> + +<p> +“When can we go out?” he said, for he was anxious to see the city. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not till after the midday meal, and you must see the palace first; +come now.” +</p> + +<p> +So they descended and traversed the various courts of the building; the +dormitories, the great dining hall, the audience chambers where Edred was then +receiving his subjects, who waited in the anteroom, which alone the two boys +ventured to enter. Finally, after traversing several courts and passages, they +reached the guardroom. +</p> + +<p> +Three or four of the “hus-carles” or household guards were here on +duty. But in the embrasure of the window, poring over a map, sat one of very +different mien from the common soldiers, and whose air and manner, no less than +his dress, proclaimed the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Redwald,” said the prince, advancing to the window, “let me +make you acquainted with my friend and companion, Elfric of Æscendune.” +</p> + +<p> +The officer started, as if with some sudden surprise, but it passed away so +quickly that the beholder might fancy the start had only existed in +imagination, as perhaps it did. +</p> + +<p> +“This gallant warrior,” said Edwy to Elfric, “is my friend +and counsellor in many ways; and if he lives there shall not be a thane in +England who shall stand above him. You will soon find out his value, +Elfric.” +</p> + +<p> +“My prince is pleased to flatter his humble servant,” said Redwald. +</p> + +<p> +But Elfric was gazing upon the soldier with feelings he could scarcely analyse. +There was something in his look and the tone of his voice which struck a hidden +chord, and awoke recollections as if of a previous existence. +</p> + +<p> +“Redwald,” as Edwy named him, was tall and dark, with many of the +characteristics of the Danish race about him. His nose was slightly aquiline, +his eyes hid beneath bushy eyebrows, while his massive jaw denoted energy of +character—energy which one instinctively felt was quite as likely to be +exerted for evil as for good. +</p> + +<p> +He was captain of the hus-carles, and had but recently entered the royal +service. Few knew his lineage. He spoke the Anglo-Saxon tongue with great +fluency, and bore testimonials certifying his valour and faithfulness from the +court of Normandy, where the Northmen under Rollo had some half-century earlier +founded a flourishing state, then ruled over by the noble Duke “Richard +the Fearless.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy seemed to be on intimate terms with this soldier of fortune; in fact, with +all his proud anticipation of his future greatness, he was never haughty to his +inferiors, perhaps we should say seldom, for we shall hereafter note exceptions +to this rule. It would be a great mistake to suppose that the pomp and ceremony +of our Norman kings was shared by their English predecessors: the manners and +customs of the court of Edred were simplicity itself. +</p> + +<p> +After a few moments of private conversation with Redwald, the boys returned to +their chamber to prepare for dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“You noted that man,” said Edwy; “well, I don’t know +how I should live without him.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric’s looks expressed surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“You will find out by and by; you have little idea how strictly we are +kept here, and how much one is indebted to one’s servants for the gift of +liberty, especially in Lent and on fast days, when one does not get half enough +to eat, and must sometimes escape the gloom and starvation of the +palace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Starvation?” +</p> + +<p> +“What else do you call it, when you get nothing but fish, fish, fish, and +bread and water to help it down. My uncle is awfully religious. I can hardly +stand it sometimes. He would like to spend half the day in chapel, but, happily +for all the rest of us, the affairs of state are too urgent for that, so we do +get a little breathing time, or else I should have to twist my mouth all of one +side singing dolorous chants and tunes which are worse than a Danish war whoop, +for he likes, he says, to hear the service hearty.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it helps you on with your Latin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much of that, for I sing anything that comes into my head; the +singing men make such a noise, they can hear no one else, and I fancy they +don’t know what a word of the Latin prayers means.” +</p> + +<p> +“But isn’t it irreverent—too irreverent, I mean. Father +Cuthbert made me afraid to mock God, he told such stories about +judgment.” +</p> + +<p> +“All fudge and nonsense—oh, I beg your pardon, it is all very godly +and pious, and really I expect to be greatly edified by your piety in chapel. +Pray, when shall you be canonised?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric could not bear ridicule, and blushed for the second time that morning. +Just then the bell rang for dinner, or rather was struck with a mallet by the +master of the ceremonies. +</p> + +<p> +King Edred dined that day, as one might say, in the bosom of his family; only +Dunstan was present, besides the boys Edwy, Edgar his younger brother, and +Elfric. It was then that Elfric first saw the younger prince, a pale +studious-looking boy of twelve, but with a very firm and intellectual +expression of countenance. He was a great favourite with Dunstan, whom the boy, +unlike his brother, regarded with the greatest respect and reverence. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation was somewhat stiff; Edred spoke a few kind words to the young +stranger, and then conversed in an undertone with Dunstan, the whole dinner +time; the princes themselves were awed by the presence of their uncle and his +spiritual guide. +</p> + +<p> +But at last, like all other things, it was over, and with feelings of joy the +boys broke forth from the restraint. The whole afternoon was spent in seeing +the sights of London, and they all three, for Edgar accompanied them, returned +to the evening meal, fatigued in body, but in high spirits. Compline in the +royal chapel terminated the day, as mass had begun it. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/> +TEMPTATION.</h2> + +<p> +But a few days had passed before Elfric learned the secret of Redwald’s +influence over the young prince. +</p> + +<p> +The household of Edred was conducted with the strictest propriety.<a +href="#EndNoteA9sym" name="EndNoteA9anc"><sup>ix</sup></a> All rose with the +lark, and the first duty was to attend at the early mass in the royal chapel. +Breakfast followed, and then the king on ordinary days gave the whole forenoon +to business of state, and he thought it his duty to see that each member of the +royal household had some definite employment, knowing that idleness was the +mother of many evils. So the young princes had their tasks assigned them by +their tutor, as we have already seen, and the spare hours which were saved from +their studies were given to such practice in the use of the national weapons as +seemed necessary to those who might hereafter lead armies, or to gymnastic +exercises which strengthened nerve and muscle for a time of need. +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon they might ride or walk abroad, but a strict interdict was +placed upon certain haunts where temptation might perchance be found, and they +had to return by evensong, which the king generally attended in person when at +home. Then, in winter, indoor recreations till compline, for it was a strict +rule of the king that his nephews should not leave the palace after sundown. +</p> + +<p> +He further caused their tutor, who directed their education under the +supervision of Dunstan—Father Benedict—whom we have already +introduced, to see that they properly discharged all the duties of public and +private devotion. +</p> + +<p> +But he did not see, in the excess of his zeal, that he was really destroying +the prospects which were nearest his heart, and that there can be no more fatal +mistake than to compel the performance of religious duties which exceed the +measure of the youthful capacity or endurance. +</p> + +<p> +With Edgar, who was naturally pious, the system produced no evil result; but +with Edwy the effect was most sad. He had become, as we have seen, deceitful; +and a character, naturally fair, was undermined to an extent which neither the +king nor Dunstan suspected. +</p> + +<p> +The reader may naturally ask how could Dunstan, so astute as he was, make this +mistake, or at least suffer Edred to make it? +</p> + +<p> +The fact was that Dunstan understood the affairs of state better than those of +the heart, and although well fitted for a guide to men of sincere piety, and +capable of opposing to the wicked an iron will and inflexible resolution, he +did not understand the young, and seemed to have forgotten his own youth. +Sincerely truthful and straightforward, he hardly knew whether to feel more +disgust or surprise at Edwy’s evident unfaithfulness. He little knew that +unfaithfulness was only one of his failings, and not the worst. +</p> + +<p> +A few nights after Elfric’s arrival, when the palace gates had been shut +for the night, the compline service said, the household guard posted, and the +boys had retired to their sleeping apartments, he heard a low knock at his +door. He opened it, and Edwy entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you disposed for a pleasant evening, Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +“Such pleasure as there is in sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not mean that. We cannot sleep, like bears in winter, during +all the hours which should be given to mirth. I am going out this evening, and +I want you to go with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Going out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Don’t stand staring there, as if I was talking Latin or +something harder; but get your shoes on again— +</p> + +<p> +“No; you had better come down without shoes; it will make less +noise.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how can we get out? I have not the least idea where you are +going?” +</p> + +<p> +“All in good time. We shall get out easily enough. Are you coming?” +</p> + +<p> +Half fearful, yet not liking to resist the prince, and his curiosity pressing +him to solve the secret, Elfric followed Edwy down the stairs to the lower +hall, where Redwald was on guard. He seemed to await the lads, for he bowed at +once to the prince and proceeded to the outer door, where, at an imperious +signal from him, the warder threw the little inner portal open, and the three +passed out. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the boat ready?” said Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“It is; and trusty rowers await you.” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald led the way to the river’s brink, and there pointed out a skiff +lying at a short distance from the shore. At a signal, the men who manned it +pulled in and received the two youths on board, then pulled at once out into +the stream. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you like an evening on the river?” said Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“It is very beautiful, and the stars are very bright tonight; but where +are we going?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will soon find out.” +</p> + +<p> +Finding his royal companion so uncommunicative, Elfric remained silent, +trusting that a few minutes would unravel the mystery. +</p> + +<p> +But an hour had passed, during which the boat steadily progressed up stream, +before the watermen pulled in for the shore, and a dark building loomed before +them in dim shadow. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the place,” said Edwy. “Be ready, my men, to take us +back about midnight, or a little later;” and he threw some pieces of +money amongst them. +</p> + +<p> +Passing through a large garden, they arrived at a porch before a stout door +garnished with knobs of iron, which might bid defiance to thief or burglar. +</p> + +<p> +“Whose house is this?” asked Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait; you shall soon see.” +</p> + +<p> +The loud knocking Edwy made at the door soon brought some domestics, who, +opening a small wicket, discovered the identity of their principal visitor, and +immediately threw open the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” said Edwy; “we were almost frozen.” +</p> + +<p> +Passing through a kind of atrium—for the old Roman fashion was still +sometimes followed in this particular—the domestics ushered the visitors +into a room brilliantly lighted by torches stuck in cressets projecting from +the walls, and by huge wax candles upon a table spread for a feast. The light +revealed a small but apparently select party, who seemed to await the prince: a +lady, who appeared to be the mistress of the mansion; a young girl apparently +about the age of Edwy, who, calling her his fair cousin, saluted her fondly; +and two or three youths, whose gaudy dress and affected manners were strongly +in contrast with the stern simplicity of the times. +</p> + +<p> +After saluting each person with the greatest freedom, Edwy introduced his +companion. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is a young novice I have brought to learn the noble art of +merrymaking, of wine and wassail. We have both been literally starved at the +palace—I should say monastery—of Monk Edred today. It is Friday, +and we have been splendidly dining upon salt fish served up on golden salvers. +My goodness! the flavour of that precious cod is yet in my mouth. Food for +cats, I do assure you, and served up to kings. What did you think of it, +Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric was ashamed to say that it had not been so very bad after all. Truth to +say his conscience was uneasy, for he had been brought up to respect the fasts +of the Church, and he saw a trial awaiting him in the luscious dishes before +him. +</p> + +<p> +“What does it matter?” the reader may exclaim; “it is not +that which goeth into the mouth which defileth a man,” etc. +</p> + +<p> +True, most wise critic, but it is that which goeth out; and if disobedience be +not amongst the evils which defile, then Adam did not fall in Paradise when he +ate the forbidden fruit. Elfric could not touch flesh on fast days without the +instinctive feeling that he was doing wrong, and no one can sin against the +conviction of the heart without danger. +</p> + +<p> +The party now seated themselves, and without any grace or further preface the +feast began. Servants appeared and served up the most exquisite dishes, of a +delicacy almost unknown in England at that day, and poured rich wines into +silver goblets. It was evident that wealth abounded in the family they were +visiting, and that they had expended it freely for the gratification of Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +Ethelgiva, the lady of the house, was of noble presence, which almost seemed to +justify the claim of royal blood which was made for her. Tall and commanding, +age had not bent her form, although her locks were already white. Her beauty, +which must have been marvellous in her younger days, had attracted the +attention of a younger son of the reigning house, and they were married at an +early age, secretly, without the sanction of the king. +</p> + +<p> +The fruit of their union was Elgiva, a name destined to fill a place in a sad +and painful tragedy; but we are anticipating, and must crave the reader’s +pardon. +</p> + +<p> +Bright and cheerful indeed was the fair Elgiva at this moment. Her beauty was +remarkable even in a land so famed for the beauty of its daughters; and the +ill-advised Edwy may be pitied, if not altogether pardoned, for his +infatuation, for infatuation it was in a day when the near tie of blood between +them precluded the possibility of lawful matrimony, save at the expense of a +dispensation never likely to be conceded, since the temperament of men like +Odo, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and of Dunstan, was opposed to any +relaxation of the law in the case of the great when such relaxation was +unattainable by the poor and lowly. +</p> + +<p> +To return to our subject: +</p> + +<p> +The feast proceeded with great animation. At first Elfric hesitated when the +meat was placed before him, but he withered, in his weakness, before the +mocking smile of Edwy, and the sarcasm which played upon the lips of the rest +of the company, who perceived his hesitation. So he yielded, and, shaking off +all restraint, ate heartily. +</p> + +<p> +Dish followed dish, and the wine cup circulated with great freedom. Excited as +he was, Elfric could but remark the loose tone of the conversation. Subjects +were freely discussed which had never found admittance either in the palace of +King Edred or at Æscendune, and which, indeed, caused him to look up with +surprise, remembering in whose presence he sat. +</p> + +<p> +But, as is often the case in an age where opinion is severely repressed in its +outward expression, and amongst those compelled against their will to observe +silence on such subjects on ordinary occasions, all restraint seemed abandoned +at the table of Ethelgiva. It was not that the language was coarse, but whether +the conversation turned upon the restraints of the clergy, or the court, or +upon the fashionable frivolities of the day—for there were frivolities +and fashions even in that primitive age—there was a freedom of expression +bordering upon profanity or licentiousness. +</p> + +<p> +Edred was mocked as an old babbler; Dunstan was sometimes a fool, sometimes a +hypocrite, sometimes even a sorcerer, although this was said sneeringly; the +clergy were divided into fools and knaves; the claims of the Church—that +is of Christianity—derided, and the principle freely +avowed—“Enjoy life while you can, for you know not what may come +after.” +</p> + +<p> +Excited by the wine he had drunk, Elfric became as wild in his talk as the +other young men, and as the intoxicating drink mounted to his brain, seemed to +think that he had just learnt how to enjoy life. +</p> + +<p> +The ladies retired at last, and Edwy followed them. Elfric was on the point of +rising too, but a hint from his companions restrained him. The wine cup still +circulated, the conversation, now unrestrained, initiated the boy into many an +evil secret he had never known earlier; and so the hours passed on, till Edwy, +himself much flushed, came in and said that it was time to depart, for midnight +had long been tolled from the distant towers of London. +</p> + +<p> +He smiled as he saw by Elfric’s bloodshot eyes and unsteady gait, as he +rose, upsetting his seat, that his companion was something less master of +himself than usual; he felt, it need hardly be said, no remorse, but rather +regarded the whole thing as what might now be termed “a jolly +lark.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall you require bearers, or can you walk to the boat? I do not wonder +you are ill, you have eaten too much fish today; it is a shame to make the +knees weak through fasting in this style.” +</p> + +<p> +“I—I—am all right now.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will be better in the air.” +</p> + +<p> +So, bidding a farewell of somewhat doubtful character to his entertainers, +Elfric was assisted to the boat. The air did not revive him, he felt wretchedly +feverish and giddy, and could hardly tell how he reached the river. +</p> + +<p> +Reach it, however, he did, and the strong arms of the watermen impelled the +boat rapidly down the tide, until it reached the stairs near the palace. +</p> + +<p> +Here Redwald was in waiting, and assisted them to land. +</p> + +<p> +“You are very late, or rather early,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Edwy, “but it has been a jolly evening, only poor +Elfric has been ill, having of course weakened himself by fasting.” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald smiled such a scornful smile, and muttered some words to himself. Yet +it did not seem as if he were altogether displeased at the state in which he +saw Elfric. It may be added that Edwy was but little better. +</p> + +<p> +“You must keep silent,” said Redwald; “I believe the king and +Dunstan are hearing matins in the chapel: it is the festival of some saint or +other, who went to the gridiron in olden days.” +</p> + +<p> +The outer gate of the palace was cautiously opened, and, taking off their +shoes, the youths ascended the stairs which led to their apartments as lightly +as possible. +</p> + +<p> +“Send the leech Sigebert to us in the morning—he must report Elfric +unwell—for he will hardly get up to hear Dunstan mumble mass.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps your royal highness had better rest also.” +</p> + +<p> +“And bring suspicion upon us both? No,” said Edwy, “one will +be enough to report ill at once; Dunstan is an old fox.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Elfric could hardly get to bed, and, almost for the first time since +infancy, he laid himself down without one prayer. Edwy left him in the dark, +and there he lay, his head throbbing, and a burning thirst seeming to consume +him. +</p> + +<p> +Long before morning he was very sick, and when the bell was sounded for the +early mass it need hardly be said that he was unable to rise. +</p> + +<p> +Sigebert the physician, who, like Redwald, was in the confidence of the future +king, Edwy, came in to see him, and asked what was the matter. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sick and ill,” gasped Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you have taken something that disagreed with you—too +much fish perhaps.” (with a smile). +</p> + +<p> +“No—no—I do not—” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” said the leech; “you will soon be better; +meanwhile, I will account for your absence at chapel. Here, take this medicine; +you will find it relieve you.” +</p> + +<p> +And he gave Elfric a mixture which assuaged his burning thirst, and bathed his +forehead with some powerful essence which refreshed him greatly, whereupon the +leech departed. +</p> + +<p> +Only an hour later, and Edred, hearing from the physician of Elfric’s +sudden illness, came in to see the boy, whose bright cheerful face and merry +disposition had greatly attracted him. This was hardest of all for Elfric to +bear; he had to evade the kind questions of the king, and to hear expressions +of sympathy which he felt he did not deserve. +</p> + +<p> +More than once he felt inclined to tell all, but the fear of the prince +restrained him, and also a sense of what he thought honour, for he would not +betray his companion, and he could not confess his own guilt without +implicating Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +Poor boy! it would have been far better for him had he done so: he had taken +his first step downward. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/> +LOWER AND LOWER.</h2> + +<p> +It becomes our painful duty to record that from the date of the feast, +described in our last chapter, the character of poor Elfric underwent rapid +deterioration. In the first place, the fact of his having yielded to the +forbidden indulgence, and—as he felt—disgraced himself, gave Edwy, +as the master of the secret, great power over him, and he never failed to use +this power whenever he saw any inclination on the part of his vassal to throw +off the servitude. It was not that he deliberately intended to injure Elfric, +but he had come to regard virtue as either weakness or hypocrisy, at least such +virtues as temperance, purity, or self restraint. +</p> + +<p> +The great change which was creeping over Elfric became visible to others: he +seemed to lose his bright smile; the look of boyish innocence faded from his +countenance, and gave place to an expression of sullen reserve; he showed less +ardour in all his sports and pastimes, became subject to fits of melancholy, +and often seemed lost in thought, anxious thought, in the midst of his studies. +</p> + +<p> +He seldom had the power, even if the will, to communicate with home. Mercia was +in many respects an independent state, subject to the same king, but governed +by a code of laws differing from those of Wessex; and it was only when a royal +messenger or some chance traveller left court for the banks of the Midland +Avon, that Elfric could use the art of writing, a knowledge he was singular in +possessing, thanks to the wisdom of his sire. +</p> + +<p> +So the home authorities knew little of the absent one, for whom they offered up +many a fervent prayer, and of whom they constantly spoke and thought. And yet, +so mysterious are the ways of Providence, it seemed as if these prayers were +unanswered—seemed indeed, yet they were not forgotten before God. +</p> + +<p> +Seemed forgotten; for Elfric was rapidly becoming reckless. Many subsequent +scenes of indulgence had followed the first one, and other haunts, residences +of licentious young nobles, or taverns, had been sought out by the youths, and +always by Redwald’s connivance. +</p> + +<p> +He was Edwy’s evil genius, and always seemed at hand whensoever the +prince sought occasion to sin. Still, he was not at all suspected by Edred, +before whom he kept up an appearance of the strictest morality—always +punctual in his attendance at mass, matins, and evensong, and with a various +stock of phrases of pious import ready at tongue in case of need or opportunity +of using them to advantage. +</p> + +<p> +To Elfric, his behaviour was always reserved, yet he seemed even more ready to +lend him a helping hand downward than did the prince. +</p> + +<p> +So time passed on; weeks became months; and Christmas with all its hallowed +associations had passed; it had been Elfric’s first Christmas away from +home, and he was sad at heart, in spite of the boisterous merriment of his +companions. The spring of the year 955 came on, and Lent drew near, a season to +which Edwy looked forward with great dread, for, as he said, there would be +nothing in the whole palace to eat until Easter, and he could not even hope to +bribe the cook. +</p> + +<p> +The canons of the church required all persons to make confession, and so enter +upon the fast tide, having “thus purified their minds;” <a +href="#EndNoteA10sym" name="EndNoteA10anc"><sup>x</sup></a> it may, alas! be +easily guessed how the guilty lads performed this duty, how enforced confession +only led to their adding the sin of further deceit, and that of a deadly kind. +</p> + +<p> +Thus they entered upon Lent: their abstinence was entirely compulsory, not +voluntary; and although they made up for it in some degree when they could get +away from the palace, yet even this was difficult, for it was positively +unlawful for butchers to sell or for people to buy meat at the prohibited +seasons, and the law was not easily evaded. But it was a prayerless Lent also +to Elfric, for he had, alas! even discontinued his habit of daily prayer, a +habit he had hitherto maintained from childhood, a habit first learned at his +mother’s knee. +</p> + +<p> +Holy Week came, and was spent with great strictness; the king seemed to divide +his whole time between the business of state and the duties of religion. +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan was absent at Glastonbury, but other ecclesiastics thronged the palace, +and there were few, save the guilty boys and Redwald, who seemed uninfluenced +by the solemn commemoration. +</p> + +<p> +But it must not be supposed that Elfric was wholly uninfluenced: after the +preaching of the Passion by a poor simple monk on Good Friday, he retired to +his own little room, where he wept as if his heart would break. Had Dunstan +been then in town, the whole story would have been told, and much misery saved, +for Elfric felt he could trust him if he could trust anybody; but unhappily +Dunstan was, as we have seen, keeping Passiontide at his abbey. +</p> + +<p> +Still, Elfric felt he must tell all, and submit to the advice and penance which +might be imposed; and as he sat weeping over his sin that Good Friday night, +with the thought that he might find pardon and peace through the Great +Sacrifice so touchingly pleaded that day, he felt that the first step to +amendment must lie in a full and frank confession of all; he knew he should +grievously offend Edwy, and that he should lose the favour of his future king, +but he could not help it. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, oh why did I leave Æscendune, dear Æscendune?—fool that I +was—I will go back.” +</p> + +<p> +And a sweet desire of home and kindred rose up before him—of his +father’s loving welcome, his fond mother’s chaste kiss, and of the +dear old woods and waters—the hallowed associations of his home life. He +rose up to seek Father Benedict, determined to enter upon the path of peace at +any cost, when Edwy entered. +</p> + +<p> +He did not see in the gathering darkness the traces of emotion visible on poor +Elfric’s countenance, and he began in his usual careless +way—“How are you, Elfric, my boy; glad Lent is nearly over? What a +dismal time that wretched monk preached this morning!” +</p> + +<p> +“Edwy, I am utterly miserable: I must tell all; I cannot live like this +any longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a burst of penitence! go to confession; to be sure it looks well, +and if one can only manage to get out a few tears they account him a saint; +tell me the receipt.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Edwy, I must tell all!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not if you are wise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? It is all in secrecy.” +</p> + +<p> +“No it is not; you will be required as a penance to go and tell the king +all that we have done; you may do so, and I will manage to represent matters so +as to throw the whole blame on you; you will be sent home in disgrace.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Elfric hung down his head; the thought of his disgrace reaching home had +not occurred to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said Edwy, “I don’t want to be hard upon you. +Cheer up, my man. What have you done amiss? Only enjoyed yourself as nature has +guided you. Why should you think God meant us to pass through life like those +miserable shavelings Edred delights to honour? Cheer up, Elfric; your bright +face was never meant for that of a hypocrite. If you are so dreadfully bad, you +are in a pretty numerous company; and I don’t think the shavelings +believe their own tales about fire and torment hereafter. They are merry +enough, considering.” +</p> + +<p> +In short, poor Elfric’s short-lived penitence was given to the winds. +Edwy went alone to be shriven on the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +On Easter Day they both received the Holy Communion in the royal chapel. +</p> + +<p> +From that time remorse ceased to visit the heir of Æscendune, as if he had at +last quenched the Spirit, and he became so utterly wild and reckless, that at +last Dunstan thought it necessary to speak to him privately on the subject. It +was nearly six months after Easter. +</p> + +<p> +The boy entered the study set apart for the use of the great monk and statesman +with a palpitating heart, but he managed to repress its beatings, and put on a +perfectly unconcerned expression of countenance. He had gained in self control +if in nothing else. +</p> + +<p> +“I wished to speak with you, Elfric,” said the abbot, “upon a +very serious matter. When you first came here, I was delighted to have you as a +companion to the prince. You were evidently well brought up, and bore an +excellent character; but, I grieve to say, you have greatly changed for the +worse. Are you not aware of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, father. What have I done?” +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan sighed at the tone of the reply, and continued—“It is not +any particular action of which I wish to accuse you, but of the general tenor +of your conduct. I do not speak harshly, my boy; but if truth be told, you are +as idle as you were once diligent, as sullen and reserved as once candid and +open: and, my son, your face tells a tale of even worse things, and, but that I +am puzzled to know where you could obtain the means of self indulgence, I +should attribute more serious vices to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who has accused me, father?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yourself—that is, your own face and manner. Did you ever +contemplate yourself in a mirror when at home? There is a steel one against +that wall, go and look at yourself now.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric blushed deeply. +</p> + +<p> +“My face is still the same,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the same, and yet not the same. Innocence once took her place at +its portals, and had sealed it as her own; the expression is all changed; my +boy, I am absolutely certain that all is not well with you. For your own sake, +delay no longer to avoid the danger of losing your salvation, for the habits +you form now will perhaps cling to you through life. Turn now to your own self; +confess your sin, and be at peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“I came to confession at Shrovetide; I am not required to come now, am +I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Required? No, my boy, it is your own sense of guilt, alone, which should +draw you. The Church, since there has been no public scandal, leaves you to +your own judgment at such a time as this. Have you never felt such remorse of +conscience as would tell you your duty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never.” +</p> + +<p> +He thought of Good Friday, and blushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Your tone and words belie each other, my boy. God grant you repentance; +you will not accept my help now, but the time may come when you will seek help +in vain.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric bowed, without reply, and at a sign left the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +A few weeks later, at the beginning of November, Edred left London for a tour +in the west, and quitted his nephews with more than his usual affection, +although his goodbye to Elfric was more constrained, for the good old king, not +knowing the whole truth, was beginning to fear that Elfric was a dangerous +companion. He little thought that he was rather sinned against than sinning. +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan was to follow him in a week, and only remained behind to discharge +necessary business. +</p> + +<p> +The heart of the amorous Edwy beat with delight as he saw his uncle depart, and +he made arrangements at once to spend the night after Dunstan’s departure +in mirth and jollity at the house of Ethelgiva and her fair daughter. +</p> + +<p> +He came back after an interview with Redwald on the subject, and found Elfric +in their common study. There was an alcove in the room, and it was covered by a +curtain. +</p> + +<p> +“O Elfric,” said the prince, “is it not delightful? The two +tyrants, the king and the monk, will soon be gone. I wish the Evil One would +fly off with them both, and when the cat is away will not the mice play? I have +made all the arrangements; we shall have such a night at the lady +Ethelgiva’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is the fair Elgiva?” +</p> + +<p> +It was now Edwy’s turn to blush and look confused. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I had the power of teasing you, Elfric. But if you have a secret +you keep it close. Remember old Dunstan vanishes on the fifteenth, and the same +evening, oh, won’t it be joyful? But I am tired of work. Come and let us +take some fresh air.” +</p> + +<p> +They left the room, when the curtain parted, and the astonished countenance of +Father Benedict, who had been quietly reading in the deep embrasure of the +window, presently appeared. He looked like a man at whose feet a thunderbolt +had fallen, and hastily left the room. +</p> + +<p> +The week passed rapidly away, and at its close Dunstan took his departure. A +train of horses awaited him, and he bade the young princes Edwy and Edgar +farewell, with the usual charge to work diligently and obey Father Benedict. +</p> + +<p> +That same night, after the clerks had sung compline in the chapel, and the +chamberlain had seen to the safety of the palace, Edwy came quietly to the room +of his page, and the two left as on the first occasion. Redwald attended them, +and just before the boat left the bank he spoke a word of caution. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear,” he said, in a low tone, “that all is not quite +right. That old fox Dunstan is up to some trick; he has not really left +town.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps he has a similar appointment tonight,” said Edwy, +sarcastically. “I should keep mine though he and all his monks from +Glastonbury barred the way.” +</p> + +<p> +They reached the castellated mansion of Ethelgiva in due course, and the +programme of the former evening was repeated, save that, if there was any +change, the conversation was more licentious, and the wine cup passed more +freely. +</p> + +<p> +It was midnight, and one of the company was favouring them with a song of +questionable propriety, when a heavy knock was heard at the door. The servants +went to answer it, and all the company awaited the issue in suspense. +</p> + +<p> +One of the principal domestics returned with haste, and whispered some words +into the ear of Ethelgiva—which seemed to discompose her. +</p> + +<p> +“What can this mean?” she said. “A guard of soldiers demand +admittance in the king’s name?” +</p> + +<p> +A louder knocking attested the fact. +</p> + +<p> +“You must admit them, or they will batter the door down. Edwy, Elfric! +here, hide yourselves behind that curtain, it veils a deep recess.” +</p> + +<p> +They had scarcely concealed themselves when Dunstan entered, attended by a +guard of the royal hus-carles. +</p> + +<p> +“What means this insolence?” said Ethelgiva. +</p> + +<p> +“No insolence is intended, royal lady, nor could be offered to the widow +of the Etheling, by me,” replied Dunstan, “but I seek to discharge +a sacred trust committed to me. Where are my pupils, the Prince Edwy and his +companion?” +</p> + +<p> +“In their beds, at the palace, I should suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, be not so perfidious; they are here, lady, and probably within +hearing; they must come forth, or I must order the guard to search the house, +which I should regret.” +</p> + +<p> +“By whose authority?” +</p> + +<p> +“By that of the king, whose signet is on my hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are not here; they left half-an-hour ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, madam, if I observe that we have watched the house for an +hour. +</p> + +<p> +“Had not this scene better terminate?” he added, with icy coldness. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a favourite dog, which Edwy had often petted, and which had +entered with the guard, found him out behind the curtain, and in its vociferous +joy betrayed the whole secret. +</p> + +<p> +Confusion or smiles sat on every face save that of the imperturbable Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +“Your dog, madam, is more truthful than its mistress,” he said, +bluntly yet quietly; and then, advancing to the recess, he drew aside the +curtain and gazed upon the discovered couple. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you kindly return to the palace with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“How dare you, insolent monk, intrude upon the pleasures of your future +king?” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare by the orders of the present king, your royal uncle, who has +committed the whole matter into my hands; and, Prince Edwy, in the discharge of +my duty ‘dare’ is a superfluous word. Will you, as I said before, +both follow me, if you are sufficiently masters of yourselves to do so?” +</p> + +<p> +The import of all this was seen at a glance, but there was no course but +submission, and Edwy well knew how utterly indefensible his conduct was; so, +with crestfallen gait, he and Elfric followed their captor to the river, where +was another large boat by the side of their own. They entered it, and returned +to the palace stairs much more sober than on previous occasions. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/> +“THE KING IS DEAD!—LONG LIVE THE KING!”</h2> + +<p> +The unhappy Elfric passed the night in a most unenviable frame of mind. He felt +distinctly how utterly he was in the power of Dunstan, and that he could only +expect to return home in disgrace; yet there was no real repentance in all +this: he had sinned and suffered, but although he dreaded punishment he no +longer hated sin. +</p> + +<p> +He scarcely slept at all, and early in the morning he rose to seek an interview +with Edwy, when he found that he was a prisoner. One of the hus-carles posted +at his door forbade all communication. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the morning the bell sounded for the early service, still he was not +released, and later his breakfast was brought to him, after which he heard a +heavy step approaching, and Dunstan appeared at the door of the sleeping +chamber. +</p> + +<p> +He entered, and gazed at Elfric for a moment without speaking, as if he would +read his very heart by his face; it was hardly comfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric,” he said at last, “do you remember the warning I +gave you six months ago?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Elfric, determined, in desperation, to deny everything. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear you are hardly telling me the truth; you must remember it, +unhappy boy! Why were you not warned in time? Why did you refuse the advice +which might have saved you from all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because it was my fate, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Men make their own fates, and as they make their beds so must they lie +upon them; however, I have not come here to reproach you, but to bid you +prepare to return home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Home?—so soon?” said Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you must leave tomorrow, when a messenger will be prepared to +accompany you, and to explain the cause of your dismissal from court to your +father, whom I most sincerely pity; and let me hope that you will find leisure +to repent of your grievous sin in the solitude of your native home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Must my father be told everything?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear he must: you have left us no choice; and it is the better thing, +both for him and for you; he will understand better what steps are necessary +for your reformation—a reformation, I trust, which will be accomplished +in good time, whereat no one will rejoice more than I.” +</p> + +<p> +A pert answer rose to Elfric’s lips, but he dared not give utterance to +it; the speaker was too great in his wrath to be defied with impunity. +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell,” said Dunstan, “would that I could say the word +with brighter hopes; but should you ever repent of your sin, as I trust you +may, it will gladden me to hear of it. I fear you may have done great harm to +England in the person of her future king, but God forgive you in that +case.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric felt the injustice of the last accusation; he coloured, and an indignant +denial had almost risen to his lips, but he repressed it for Edwy’s +sake—faithful, even in his vice, to his friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I to consider myself a prisoner? you have posted a sentinel, as if I +were a criminal.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must be confined to your apartment, but you may have books and +anything else you desire. The prince is forbidden to see you again. Your +confinement will only be for one day; tomorrow you will be free enough; let me +beg you to use the occasion for calm reflection, and, I hope, penitence.” +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan left the room, and Elfric heard his retreating steps go heavily down +the stairs, when a sudden and almost unaccountable feeling came over +him—a feeling that he had thrown himself away, and that he was committed +to evil, perhaps never to be able to retrace his course, never to all eternity; +the retreating steps sounded as if his sentence were passed and the door of +mercy shut. He shook off the strange feeling; yet, could he have seen the +future which lay undiscovered before him, and which must intervene before he +should see that face again, or hear those steps, he might have been unable thus +to shake off the nameless dread. +</p> + +<p> +The day wore away, night drew on; he laid himself down and tried to sleep, when +he heard voices conversing outside, and recognised Edwy’s tones; +immediately after the prince entered. +</p> + +<p> +“What a shame, Elfric,” he said, “to make you a prisoner like +this, and to send you away—for they say you are to go tomorrow —you +shall not be forgotten if ever I become king, and I don’t think it will +be long first. The first thing I shall do will be to send for you; you will +come; won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will be yours for life or death.” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew it, and this is the faithful friend from whom they would separate +me; well, we will have this last evening together in peace; old Dunstan has +gone out, and Redwald has put a man as your guard who never sees anything he is +not wanted to see.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a convenient thing!” +</p> + +<p> +“But you seem very dull; is anything on your mind which I do not know? +What did Dunstan say to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is going to write home to my father all particulars. It will make +home miserable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps we may find a remedy for that,” said Edwy, and left the +room hastily. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly he returned in company with Redwald. +</p> + +<p> +“Come with us, Elfric,” said the prince “there is no one in +the palace to interfere with us. Old Dunstan received a sudden message, and has +gone out hastily; we will go and see what he has written.” +</p> + +<p> +Somewhat startled at the audacity of the proposal, Elfric followed the prince, +and Redwald accompanied them. After passing through a few passages, they +arrived at the cell, or rather study, usually occupied by Dunstan when at +court, and entered it, not without a slight feeling of dread, or rather of +reluctance. +</p> + +<p> +“Here it is,” said Edwy, and held up a parchment, folded, sealed, +and directed to “Ella, Thane of Æscendune.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to know what he has written,” said the prince. +“Redwald, you understand these things; can you open the letter without +breaking the seal?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no need of that,” replied the captain of the hus-carles, +“I can easily seal it again; see, there is the signet, and here the +wax.” +</p> + +<p> +So he broke the letter open and extended it to the prince, whose liberal +education had given him the faculty of reading the monkish Latin, in which +Dunstan wrote, at a glance, and he read aloud: +</p> + +<p> +“TO MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, +</p> + +<p> +“ELLA, THANE OF ÆSCENDUNE— +</p> + +<p> +“It grieveth me much, most beloved brother, to be under the necessity of +sending your son Elfric home in some little disgrace; but it is, alas a +necessity that I should do so, in virtue of the authority our good lord and +king, Edred, hath entrusted to me. The lad was bright, and, I think, innocent +of aught like deadly sin, when he came to this huge Babel, where the devil +seems to lead men even as he will, and he hath fallen here into evil +company—nay, into the very company most evil of all in this wicked world, +that of designing and shameless women, albeit of noble birth. It hath been made +apparent to me that there is great danger to both the prince and your son in +any further connection, therefore I return Elfric to your care, sincerely +hoping that, by God’s help, you will be enabled to take such measures as +will lead to his speedy reformation, for which I devoutly pray. The bearer will +give such further information as you may desire. +</p> + +<p> +“Wishing you health, and an abiding place in the favour of God and His +saints—Your brother in the faith of Christ, +</p> + +<p> +“DUNSTAN, O.S.B.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy read the letter aloud with many a vindictive comment, and then said to +Redwald—“What can be done? Must this letter go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Does your father know the Saint’s handwriting, Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +“He never heard from him before, I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I will venture to enclose a different message,” and he +sat down at the table, and wrote—“TO MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, +</p> + +<p> +“ELLA, THANE OF ÆSCENDUNE— +</p> + +<p> +“It rejoiceth me much, most beloved brother, to send you good tidings of +the good behaviour and growth in grace of your son, whom the king hath +concluded to send home for the benefit of his health, since London hath in some +degree destroyed the ruddy hue of his countenance, and he needeth a change, as +his paleness sufficiently declareth. +</p> + +<p> +“The king hath bidden me express his great satisfaction with the +lad’s conduct, and the prince mourneth his enforced departure. Wishing +you health and an abiding place in the favour of God and His saints—Your +brother in the faith of Christ, +</p> + +<p> +“DUNSTAN, O.S.B.” +</p> + +<p> +The boys laughed aloud as they read the forgery. +</p> + +<p> +“But about the messenger—will he not tell the truth?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I will see to him, he is not above a bribe, and knows it is his +interest to serve his future king, although Dunstan thinks him so +trusty.” +</p> + +<p> +All at once the booming of a heavy bell smote their ears. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the bell of St. Paul’s, it tolls for the death of some +noble,” said Redwald; “what can it mean? has any member of the +royal family been ill?” +</p> + +<p> +They listened to the solemn dirge-like sound as it floated through the air, +calling upon all good Christians to pray for the repose of the departed or +departing soul. No prayer rose to their lips, and they soon returned to the +subject in hand. +</p> + +<p> +“When is the letter to be despatched?” +</p> + +<p> +“Early in the morning the messenger will await you; and now, I should +recommend some sleep to prepare for a fatiguing journey.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric and the prince returned to their chamber, but they did not take +Redwald’s hint, and remained talking till just before daybreak, when they +were aroused by the hasty step of an armed heel, and Redwald stood before them. +His demeanour was very strange; he bent down on one knee, took the hand of +Edwy, who resigned it passively to him, kissed it and cried +aloud—“God save the king!” +</p> + +<p> +“What can you mean, Redwald?” exclaimed both the youths. +</p> + +<p> +“Heard you not the passing bell last night? Edred sleeps with his +fathers; he died at Frome on St. Clement’s day.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment they were both silent. +</p> + +<p> +“And Edwy, the great grandson of Alfred, is king of England.” +</p> + +<p> +At first the young prince was deeply shocked at the sudden news of the death of +his uncle, to whom, in spite of appearances, he was somewhat attached. He +turned pale, and was again silent for some minutes; at last, he gulped down a +cup of water, and asked—“But how did Dunstan know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it is a strange tale. Three days ago, at the very hour the king +must have died, he says that he saw a bright light, and beheld a vision of +angels, who said, ‘Edred hath died in the Lord,’ but he treated it +as a dream, and last night a messenger came with the news of the sudden illness +of the king, bidding Dunstan hasten to his side. He left everything, and +started immediately, but in a few miles met another messenger, bearing the news +of the death. He has gone on, but sent the messenger forward to the Bishop of +London, who caused the great bell to be tolled. +</p> + +<p> +“We must all die some day,” said Edwy, musingly; “but it is +very very sudden.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I trust he has obtained a better kingdom,” added Redwald; +“he must, you know, if the monks tell the truth, so why should we weep +for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“At least,” said Edwy, looking up, “Elfric need not go home +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, certainly not, but he had better disappear from court for a time. +The lady Ethelgiva might afford him hospitality, or he might stay at the royal +palace at Kingston. I will tell the messenger to keep out of the way, and +Dunstan may suppose that his orders have been obeyed to the letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should we trouble what he may think or say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because the Witan has not yet met, and until it has gone through the +form, the mere form, of recognising your title, you are not actually king. +Dunstan has some influence. Suppose he should use it for Edgar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Edgar, the pale-faced little priestling!” +</p> + +<p> +“All the better for that in Dunstan’s eyes. Nay, be advised, my +king; keep all things quiet until the coronation is over, then let Dunstan know +who you are and who he is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed I will. He shall have cause to rue his insolent behaviour the +other night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bide your time, my liege; and now the great officers of state require +your presence below.” +</p> + +<p> +A few days later a sorrowful procession entered the old city of Winchester, the +capital of Wessex, and once a favourite residence of Edred, now to be his last +earthly resting place. Much had the citizens loved him; and as the long train +defiled into the open space around the old minster—old, even +then—the vast assemblage, grouped beneath the trees around the sacred +precincts, lifted up their voices and joined in the funeral hymn, while many +wept tears of genuine sorrow. It was awe inspiring, that burst of tuneful +wailing, as the monks entered the sacred pile, and it made men’s hearts +thrill with the sense of the unseen world into which their king had entered, +and where, as they believed, their supplications might yet follow him. +</p> + +<p> +There were the chief mourners—Edwy and Edgar—and they followed the +royal corpse, the latter greatly afflicted, and shedding genuine tears of +sorrow—and the royal household. All the nobility of Wessex, and many of +the nobles from Mercia and other provinces, were gathered together, and amidst +the solemn silence of the vast crowd, Dunstan performed the last sad and solemn +rites with a broken voice; while the archbishop—Odo the Good, as he was +frequently called—assisted in the dread solemnity. +</p> + +<p> +It was over; the coffin was lowered to the royal vaults to repose in peace, the +incenses had ceased to float dreamily beneath the lofty roof,<a +href="#EndNoteA11sym" name="EndNoteA11anc"><sup>xi</sup></a> the various lights +which had borne part in the ceremony were extinguished, the choral anthem had +ceased, for Edred slept with his fathers. +</p> + +<p> +And outside, the future king was welcomed with loud cries of “God save +King Edwy, and make him just as Alfred, pious as Edred, and warlike as +Athelstane!” +</p> + +<p> +“Long live the heir of Cerdic’s ancient line!” +</p> + +<p> +Thus their cries anticipated the decision of the Witan, and without all was +noise and clamour; while within the sacred fane the ashes of him who had so +lately ruled England rested in peace by the side of his royal father Edward, +the son of Alfred, three of whose sons—Athelstane, Edmund, +Edred—had now reigned in succession. +</p> + +<p> +It must not be supposed that Edwy was as yet king by the law of the land. The +early English writers all speak of their kings as elected; it was not until the +Witan had recognised them, that they were crowned and assumed the royal +prerogatives. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy had followed Redwald’s advice: he had kept Elfric out of the way, +and meant to do so until his coronation day. And meanwhile he condescended to +disguise his real feelings, and to affect sorrow for his past failings when in +the presence of Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +Yet he took advantage of the greater liberty he now enjoyed to renew his visits +to the mansion up the Thames, and to spend whole days in the society of Elgiva. +In their simplicity and deep love they thought all the obstacles to their happy +union now removed. Alas! ill-fated pair! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/> +THE CORONATION.</h2> + +<p> +Nothing could exceed in solemnity the “hallowing of the king,” as +the coronation ceremony was termed in Anglo-Saxon times. It was looked upon as +an event of both civil and ecclesiastical importance, and therefore nothing was +omitted which could lend dignity to the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +The Witan, or parliament, had already met and given its consent to the +coronation of Edwy. It was not, as we have already remarked, a mere matter of +course that the direct heir should occupy the throne. Edred had already +ascended, while Edwy, the son of his elder brother, was an infant, not as +regent, but as king; and in any case of unfitness on the part of the heir +apparent, it was in the power of the Witan to pass him over, and to choose for +the public good some other member of the royal house. The same Witan conferred +upon Edgar the title of sub-king of Mercia under his brother. +</p> + +<p> +Solemn and imposing was the meeting of the Witenagemot, or “assembly of +the wise.” It was divided into three estates. The first consisted of the +only class who, as a rule, had any learning in those days—the clergy, +represented by the bishop, abbot, and their principal officials: the second +consisted of the vassal kings of Scotland, Cumbria, Wales, Mona, the Hebrides, +and other dependent states, the great earls, as of Mercia or East Anglia, and +other mighty magnates: the third, of the lesser thanes, who were the especial +vassals of the king, or the great landholders, for the possession of land was +an essential part of a title to nobility. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst these sat Ella of Æscendune, who, in spite of his age, had come to the +metropolis to testify his loyalty and fealty to the son of the murdered Edmund, +his old friend and companion in arms, and to behold his own eldest son once +more. +</p> + +<p> +It was the morning of a beautiful day in early spring, one of those days of +which the poet has written— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Sweet day, so calm, so pure, so bright,<br/> +The bridal of the earth and sky” +</p> + +<p> +—when winter seems to have loosed its stern hold upon the frozen earth, +and the songs of countless birds welcome the bright sunlight, the harbinger of +approaching summer. +</p> + +<p> +The roads leading to Kingston-on-Thames were thronged with travellers of every +degree—the ealdorman or earl with his numerous attendants, the bishop +with rude ecclesiastical pomp, the peasant in his rough jerkin—all +hastening to the approaching ceremony, which, as it had been definitely fixed, +was to take place at that royal city. +</p> + +<p> +There Athelstane had been crowned with great pomp and splendour, for it was +peculiarly “<i>Cynges tun</i>” or the King’s Town, and after +the coronation it was customary for the newly-crowned monarch to take formal +possession of his kingdom by standing on a great stone in the churchyard. +</p> + +<p> +The previous night, Archbishop Odo had arrived from Canterbury, and his bosom +friend and brother, Dunstan, from Glastonbury, as also Cynesige, Bishop of +Lichfield, a man in every way like-minded with them; while nearly all the other +prelates, abbots, and nobles, arrived in the early morn of the eventful day. +</p> + +<p> +The solemn service of the coronation mass was about to commence, and the people +were assembling in the great church of St. Mary, filling every inch of +available room. Every figure was bent forward in earnest gaze, and every heart +seemed to beat more quickly, as the faint and distant sound of deep solemn +music, the monastic choirs chanting the processional psalms, drew near. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the jubilant strains filled the whole church, as the white-robed train +entered the sacred building while they sang: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Quoniam prævenisti eum in benedictionibus dulcedinis, posuisti in +capiti ejus coronam de lapide pretioso</i>.” <a href="#EndNoteA12sym" +name="EndNoteA12anc"><sup>xii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Incense ascended in clouds to the lofty roof; torches were uplifted, banners +floated in the air, every eye was now strained to catch a glimpse of the +youthful monarch. +</p> + +<p> +He came at last. Oh, how lovely the ill-fated boy looked that day! His beauty +was of a somewhat fragile character, his complexion almost too fair, his hair +shone around his shoulders in waves of gold, for men then wore their hair long, +his eyes blue as the azure vault on that sweet spring morning: alas, that his +spiritual being should not have been equally fair! +</p> + +<p> +Elfric stood by his father, amidst the crowd of thanes, near the rood screen, +for he had spent the last few days at Kingston, and there his father had found +him, and had embraced him with joy, little dreaming of the change which had +come over his darling boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, father, is he not every inch a king?” Elfric could not help +exclaiming, forgetting the place and the occasion in his pride in his king and +his friend. +</p> + +<p> +He would have been one of the four boys who bore the royal train, but it had +not seemed advisable on such a day to offend Dunstan too seriously. +</p> + +<p> +The mass proceeded after the royal party had all taken their places, and the +coronation service was incorporated into the rite, following the Nicene Creed +and preceding the canon. +</p> + +<p> +Kneeling before the altar, the young prince might well tremble with emotion. +Before him stood the archbishop, clad in full pontifical vestments; around were +the most noted prelates and wisest abbots of England; behind him the nobility, +gentry, and commonalty of the whole country—all gazing upon him, as the +archbishop dictated the solemn words of the oath, which Edwy repeated with +trembling voice after him. +</p> + +<p> +“In the name of the ever-blessed Trinity, I promise three things to the +Christian people, my subjects: +</p> + +<p> +“First, that the Church of God within my realm shall enjoy peace, free +from any molestation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Second, that I will prevent, to the utmost of my power, theft and every +fraud in all ranks of men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thirdly, that I will preserve and maintain justice and mercy in all +judicial proceedings, so that the good and merciful God may, according to His +mercy, forgive us all our sins, Who liveth and reigneth for ever and ever. +Amen.” +</p> + +<p> +Then followed a most solemn charge from “Odo the Good,” setting +forth all the deep responsibilities of the oath Edwy had taken, and of the +awful account to be rendered to God of the flock committed to his youthful +charge, at the great and awful day of judgment. +</p> + +<p> +Then the holy oil was solemnly poured upon the head of the kneeling boy, after +which he made the usual offertory of “gold, frankincense, and +myrrh,” at the altar, emblematical of the visit of the three kings of +old, who from Sheba bore their gold and incense to the Lord. +</p> + +<p> +Then was the sacred bracelet put upon his arm, the crown on his head, the +sceptre in his hand, after which the mass proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +It is touching to recall the worship of those far-off days, when all the +surrounding circumstances differed so widely from those of the present hour; +yet the Church, in her holy conservatism, has kept intact and almost changeless +all that is hers; that day the “Nicene Creed,” +“Sanctus,” “Agnus Dei,” “Gloria in +Excelsis,” rolled as now in strains of melody towards heaven, and the +“Te Deum” which concluded the jubilant service is our Te Deum +still, albeit in the vulgar tongue. +</p> + +<p> +The sacred rites concluded, the royal procession left the church and proceeded +to the churchyard, when Edwy took formal possession of Wessex, by the ceremony +of standing upon a large rock called the King’s Stone, whence the town +derived its name. +</p> + +<p> +The feast was spread in the palace hard by, and all the nobles and thanes (if +the words are not synonymous) flocked thither, while the multitude had their +liberal feast spread at various tables throughout the town, at the royal +expense. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric followed his father to the palace, and was about to take his place at +the board, when a page appeared and summoned him to the presence of Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall keep a vacant place for you by my side,” said Ella, +“so that we may feast together, my son, when the king releases you; it is +a great honour that he should think of you now.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric followed the messenger, who led him into the interior of the palace, +where he found Edwy impatiently awaiting him in the royal dressing chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric had expected to find the newly-crowned king deeply impressed, but if +such had been the case, at the moment it had passed away. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks to all the saints, including St. George, and especially the +dragon, that I can look into your jolly face again, Elfric, it is a relief +after all the grim-beards who have surrounded me today. I shudder when I think +of them.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric had been about to kneel and kiss the royal hand, in token of homage, but +Edwy saw the intention and prohibited him. +</p> + +<p> +“No more of that an thou lovest me, Elfric; my poor hand is almost worn +out already.” +</p> + +<p> +“The day must have tired you, the scene was so exciting.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy yawned as he replied, “Thank God it is over; I thought Odo was going +to preach to me all day, and the incense almost stifled me; the one good thing +is that it is done now, and all England—Kent, Sussex, Wessex, Essex, +Northumbria, East Anglia, and Mercia —have all acknowledged me as their +liege lord, the Basileus of Britain. What is done can’t be undone, and +Dunstan may eat his leek now, and go to fight Satan again.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric looked up in some surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think, my friend; who do you suppose is here in the palace, +in the royal apartments?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” +</p> + +<p> +“Elgiva, the fair Elgiva, the lovely Elgiva, dear Elgiva, and her mother. +Oh, but I shall love to look upon her face when the feast is done, and the +grim-beards have gone!” +</p> + +<p> +“But Dunstan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dunstan may go and hang himself; he can’t scrape off the +consecrated oil, or carry away crown, bracelet, and sceptre, to hide with the +other royal treasures at Glastonbury; but the feast is beginning, and you must +come and sit on my right hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said Elfric, who saw at once what an impropriety this +would be, “not yet; besides, my old father is here, and has kept a seat +beside himself for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, goodbye for the present; I shall expect you after the feast. +Elgiva will be glad to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric returned to his father, but a feeling of sadness had taken possession of +him, an apprehension of coming evil. +</p> + +<p> +The feast began; the clergy and the nobility of the land were assembled in the +great hail of the palace, and there was that profusion of good cheer which +befitted the day, for the English were, like their German ancestors, in the +habit of considering the feast an essential part of any solemnity. +</p> + +<p> +How much was eaten and drunk upon the occasion it would be dangerous to say, +for it would probably exceed all modern experience, but it seemed to the +impatient Edwy that the feast and the subsequent drinking of pledges and +healths would never end, and he was impatient the whole time to get away and be +in the company of the charmer. +</p> + +<p> +An opportunity seemed at last to offer itself to his immature judgment. Gleemen +had sung, harpers had harped, but the excitement culminated when Siward, a +Northumbrian noble, who was a great musician, and skilful in improvisation, did +not disdain, like the royal Alfred, to take the harp and pour forth an +extemporary ode of great beauty, whereupon the whole multitude rose to their +feet and waved their wine cups in the air, in ardent appreciation of the +patriotic sentiments he had uttered, and the beauty of the music and poetry. +</p> + +<p> +During the full din of their heated applause, when all eyes were fixed upon the +accomplished musician, Edwy rose softly from his chair; a door was just behind +him, and he took advantage of it to leave the hail and thread the passages +quickly, till he came to the room where he had left Elgiva, when he threw aside +his royal mantle and all his restraint at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +It was not for a few moments that the company in the hall discovered the +absence of their king, but when they did there was a sudden hush, and men +looked at each other in mute astonishment; it appeared to all, with scarce an +exception, a gross insult to the assembled majesty of the nation. <a +href="#EndNoteA13sym" name="EndNoteA13anc"><sup>xiii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Poor Edwy, in his thoughtlessness and want of proper feeling, little knew the +deep anger such a proceeding would cause; in his lack of a reverential spirit +he was constantly, as we have seen, offending against the respect due to the +Church, the State, or himself—first as heir presumptive, then as king. +</p> + +<p> +Men stood mute, as we have said, then murmurs of indignation at the slight +arose, and all looked at Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +He beckoned to Cynesige of Lichfield, who came to his side. +</p> + +<p> +“We must bring this thoughtless boy back,” he said, “or great +harm will be done.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how?” +</p> + +<p> +“By persuasion, if possible. Follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +The two prelates entered the interior of the palace, and sought the +king’s private chamber. +</p> + +<p> +As they drew near they heard the sound of merry laughter, and each of them +frowned as men might do who were little accustomed to condone the weakness of +human flesh. Entering the chamber very unceremoniously, they paused, as if +aghast, when they beheld the king in the company of Elgiva, his royal diadem +cast upon the ground. +</p> + +<p> +He started in surprise, and for a moment in fear; then, remembering who he was, +he exclaimed, angrily—“How dare you, sir monk, intrude upon the +privacy of your king, unbidden?” +</p> + +<p> +“We do so as the ambassadors of the King of kings.” +</p> + +<p> +It is out of our power to describe the scene which followed, the fiery words of +Edwy, the stern yet quiet rejoinders of the churchmen, the tears of the mother +and daughter; but it is well known how the scene ended. Edwy absolutely refused +to return to the assembled guests, saying he would forfeit his kingdom first; +and Dunstan replied that for his (Edwy’s) own sake he should then be +compelled to use force, and suiting the action to the word, he and Cynesige +took each an arm of the youthful king, and led him back by compulsion to the +assembled nobles and clergy. +</p> + +<p> +Before condemning Dunstan, we must remember that Elgiva could not stand in the +relation of the affianced bride of the king; that Edwy really seemed to set the +laws of both Church and State at defiance, those very laws which but that day +he had sworn solemnly to maintain; and that but recently he had stood in the +relation of pupil to Dunstan, so that in his zeal for Church and State, the +abbot forgot the respect due to the king. He saw only the boy, and forgot the +sovereign. +</p> + +<p> +The guests assembled in the banqueting hall had seen the desertion of their +royal master with murmurs both loud and deep; but when they saw him return +escorted by Dunstan and Cynesige, their unanimous approval showed that in their +eyes the churchmen had taken a proper step. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, although Edwy tried to make a show of having returned of his own free +will, an innocent device at which his captors connived when they entered the +hall with him, the bitterest passions were rankling in his heart, and he +determined to take a terrible revenge, should it ever be in his power, upon +Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +There was comparatively little show of merriment during the rest of the feast, +and the noble company separated earlier than was usual on such occasions. +</p> + +<p> +“If this be the way King Edwy treats his guests,” said the Earl of +Mercia, “he will find scant loyalty north of the Thames.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor in East Anglia,” said another. +</p> + +<p> +“There is another of the line of Cerdic living.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Edgar, his brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dunstan and Cynesige brought him back with some difficulty, I’ll +be bound.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; although he tried to smile, I saw the black frown hidden +beneath.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will take revenge for all this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, upon Dunstan to be sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how can he? Dunstan is too powerful for that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait and see.” +</p> + +<p> +Such was the general tone of the conversation, from which the sentiments of the +community might be inferred. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric went, as he had been bidden to do, at the conclusion of the feast, to +seek Edwy, and found him, it is needless to state, in a towering rage. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric,” he said, “am I a king? or did I dream I was crowned +today?” +</p> + +<p> +“You certainly were.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet these insolent monks have dared to force me from the company of +Elgiva to return to that sottish feast, and what is worse, I find they have +dared to send her and her mother home under an escort, so that I cannot even +apologise to them. As I live, if I am a king I will have revenge.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust so, indeed,” said Elfric, “they deserve +death.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would it were in my power to inflict it; but this accursed +monk—I go mad when I mention his name—is all too powerful. I +believe Satan helps him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still there may be ways, if you only wait till you can look around +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“There may indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only have patience; all will be in your hands some day.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if it be in my power I will restore the worship of Woden and Thor, +and burn every monk’s nest in the land.” +</p> + +<p> +“They were at least the gods of warriors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, you will stand by me, will you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“With my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come to the window, now; see the old sots departing. There a priest, +there a thane, there an earl—all drunk, I do believe; don’t you +think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said Elfric, disregarding the testimony of both his +eyes that they were all perfectly sober. +</p> + +<p> +Just then his eye caught a very disagreeable object, and he turned somewhat +pale. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you looking at?” said Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“There is that old fox, Dunstan, talking with my father; he will learn +that I am here.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does it matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only that he will easily persuade my father to take me home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then the commands of a king must outweigh those of a father. I have +heard Dunstan say a king is the father of all his people, and I command you to +stay.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to stay with all my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you shall, even if I have to make a pretence of detaining you by +force.” +</p> + +<p> +The anticipations of Elfric were not far wrong. Dunstan had found out the +truth. He had sought out the old thane to condole with him upon the pain he +supposed he must recently have inflicted by his letter. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot express to you, my old friend and brother,” he said, +“the great pain with which I sent your poor boy Elfric home, but it was a +necessity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sent him home?” said Ella. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, at the time our lamented Edred died.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sent him home!” repeated Ella, in such undisguised amazement that +Dunstan soon perceived something was amiss, and in a few short minutes became +possessed of the whole facts, while Ella learnt his son’s disgrace. +</p> + +<p> +They conferred long and earnestly. The father’s heart was sorely wounded, +but he could not think that Elfric would resist his commands, and he promised +to take him back at once to Æscendune, where he hoped all would soon be +well—“soon, very soon,” he said falteringly. +</p> + +<p> +So the old thane went to his lodgings, hard by the palace, where he awaited his +son. +</p> + +<p> +Late in the evening Elfric arrived, his countenance flushed with wine: he had +been seeking courage for the part he had to play in the wine cup. +</p> + +<p> +Long and painful, most painful, was the interview that followed. Hardened in +his rebellion, the unhappy Elfric defied his father’s authority and +justified his sin, flatly refusing to return home, in which he pretended to be +justified by “the duty a subject owed to his sovereign.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus roused to energy, Ella solemnly adjured his boy to remember the story of +his uncle Oswald, and the sad fate he had met with. It was very seldom indeed +that Ella alluded to his unhappy brother, the story was too painful; but now +that Elfric seemed to be commencing a similar course of disobedience, the +example of the miserable outlaw came too forcibly to his mind to be altogether +suppressed. +</p> + +<p> +“Beware, my son,” added Ella, “lest the curse which fell upon +Oswald fall upon you, and your younger brother succeed to your +inheritance.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not a large one,” said Elfric, “and in that case, the +king whom I serve will find me a better one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not written, ‘Put not your trust in princes?’ O my +son, my son; you will bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave!” +</p> + +<p> +It was of no avail. The old thane arose in the morning with the intention of +taking Elfric home even by force, such force as Dunstan had used, if necessary, +but found that the youth had disappeared in the night; neither could he learn +what had become of him, but he shrewdly guessed that the young king could have +told him. +</p> + +<p> +Broken-hearted by his son’s cruel desertion, the thane of Æscendune +returned home alone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/> +GLASTONBURY ABBEY.</h2> + +<p> +Rich in historical associations and reputed sanctity, the abbey of Glastonbury +was the ecclesiastical centre of western England. Here grew the holy thorn +which Joseph of Arimathea had planted when, fatigued with travel, he had struck +his staff into the ground, and lo! a goodly tree; here was the holy well of +which he had drunk, and where he baptized his converts, so that its waters +became possessed of miraculous power to heal diseases. +</p> + +<p> +Here again were memorials, dear to the vanquished Welsh; for did not Arthur, +the great King Arthur, the hero of a thousand fights, the subject of +gleeman’s melody and of the minstrel’s praise, lie buried here? if +indeed he were dead, and not spirited away by magic power. +</p> + +<p> +A Welsh population still existed around the abbey, for it was near the borders +of West Wales, as a large portion of Devon and Cornwall was then called, and +Exeter had not long become an English town.<a href="#EndNoteA14sym" +name="EndNoteA14anc"><sup>xiv</sup></a> The legends of Glastonbury were nearly +all of that distant day when the Saxons and Angles had not yet discovered +Britain, and she reposed safe under the protection of mighty Rome; hence, it +was the object of pilgrimage and of deep veneration to all those of Celtic +blood, while the English were unwilling to be behind in their veneration. +</p> + +<p> +Here, in the first year of the great English king Athelstane, Dunstan was born, +the son of Herstan and Kynedred, both persons of rank—a man destined to +influence the Anglo-Saxon race first in person and then in spirit for +generations—the greatest man of his time, whether, as his contemporaries +thought, mighty for good, or, as men of narrower minds have thought, mighty for +evil. +</p> + +<p> +In his early youth, Glastonbury lay, as it lies now, in ruin and decay; the +Danes had ravaged it, and its holy walls were no longer eloquent with prayer +and praise. Yet the old inhabitants still talked with regret of the departed +glories of the fane; the pilgrim and the stranger still visited the consecrated +well, hoping to gain strength from its healing wave, for the soil had been +hallowed by the blood of martyrs and the holy lives of saints; here kings and +nobles, laying aside their greatness, had retired to prepare for the long and +endless home, and in the calm seclusion of the cloister had found peace. +</p> + +<p> +Here the mind of the young Dunstan was moulded for his future work; here, weak +in body, but precocious in intellect, he drew in, as if with his vital breath, +legend and tradition; here, from a body of Scottish missionaries, or, as we +should now call them, Irish,<a href="#EndNoteA15sym" +name="EndNoteA15anc"><sup>xv</sup></a> he learned with rapidity all that a boy +could acquire of civil or ecclesiastical lore, and both in Latin and in +theology his progress amazed his tutors. +</p> + +<p> +Up to this time the world had held possession of his heart, and, balancing the +advantages of a religious and a secular life, he chose, as most young people +would choose, the attractions of court, to which his parents’ rank +entitled him, and leaving Glastonbury he repaired to the court of Edmund. +</p> + +<p> +There his extraordinary talents excited envy, and he was accused of magical +arts: his harp had been heard to pour forth strains of ravishing beauty when no +human hand was near, and other like prodigies, savouring of the black art, were +said to attend him, so that he fled the court, and took refuge with his uncle, +Elphege, the Bishop of Winchester. +</p> + +<p> +A long illness followed, during which the youth, disgusted with the world, and +startled by his narrow escape from death, reversed the choice he had previously +made, and renounced the world and its pleasures. +</p> + +<p> +Ordained priest at Winchester, he was sent back with a monk’s attire to +Glastonbury, where he gave himself up to austerities, such as, in a greater or +less degree, always accompanied a conversion in those days; here miracles were +reported to attend him, and stories of his personal conflicts with the Evil One +were handed from mouth to mouth, until his fame had filled the country round.<a +href="#EndNoteA16sym" name="EndNoteA16anc"><sup>xvi</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +The influence he rapidly acquired enabled him to commence the great work of +rebuilding Glastonbury, in which he was only interrupted by the frequent calls +which he had to court, to become the adviser of King Edmund; where indeed he +was often in the discharge of the office of prime minister of the kingdom, and +showed as much aptitude in civil as in ecclesiastical affairs. +</p> + +<p> +Glastonbury being rebuilt, the Benedictine rule <a href="#EndNoteA17sym" +name="EndNoteA17anc"><sup>xvii</sup></a> was introduced, and Dunstan himself +became abbot. It was far the noblest and best monastic code of the day, being +peculiarly adapted to prevent the cloister from becoming the abode of either +idleness or profligacy. +</p> + +<p> +But this was not done without much opposition; the secular priests—as the +married clergy and those who lived amongst their flocks (as English clergy do +now) were called—opposed the introduction of the Benedictine rule with +all their might, and were always thorns in Dunstan’s side. +</p> + +<p> +The unfortunate Edmund, after the sad event at Pucklechurch, on the feast of +St. Augustine, was buried at Glastonbury by the abbot, and his two sons, Edwy +and Edgar, were put under Dunstan’s especial care by the new king Edred. +The rest of the story is tolerably well known to our readers. +</p> + +<p> +The first steps of Edwy’s reign were all taken with a view to one great +end—to revenge himself and to destroy Dunstan, who, aware of the royal +enmity, and of his inability to restrain the sovereign, withdrew himself +quietly to Glastonbury, and confined himself to the discharge of his duties as +its abbot. +</p> + +<p> +But this did not satisfy Edwy, who, panting for the ruin of the monk he hated, +sought occasion for a quarrel, and soon found it. Dunstan had been the royal +almoner, and had had the disposal of large sums of money, for purposes +connected with the Church, on which they had been strictly expended. Now Edwy +required a strict account of all these disbursements, which Dunstan refused to +give, saying it had already been given to Edred, and that no person had any +right to investigate the charities of the departed king. +</p> + +<p> +His stout resistance gained the day in the first instance, but Edwy never felt +at rest while Dunstan lived at peace in the land, and Ethelgiva and her fair +daughter were ever inciting him to fresh acts of hostility, little as he needed +such incitement. +</p> + +<p> +The first measures were of a very dishonourable kind. Evil reports were spread +abroad to destroy the character of the great abbot, and prepare people’s +minds for his disgrace: then disaffection was stirred up amongst the secular +clergy surrounding Glastonbury—a very easy thing; and attempts were made +in vain to create a faction against him in his own abbey; then at last the +neighbouring thanes, many of Danish extraction and scarcely Christian, were +stirred up to invade the territory of the abbey, and were promised immunity and +secure possession of their plunder. They liked the pleasant excitement of +galloping over Dunstan’s ecclesiastical patrimony, of plundering the +farms and driving away the cattle, and there was scarcely a night in which some +fresh outrage was not committed. At this point the action of our tale +recommences. +</p> + +<p> +It will be remembered that the father of Ella had found relief from his grief, +after the death of his unhappy son Oswald, in building and endowing the +monastery of St. Wilfred, situate on the river’s bank, at a short +distance from the hall. +</p> + +<p> +The completion of the work had, however, been reserved for his son, and, +everything being now done, it became the earnest desire of Ella, with the +consent of the brethren who had been gathered into the incomplete building, to +place it under the Benedictine rule. +</p> + +<p> +For this end he determined to send a messenger to negotiate with Dunstan at +Glastonbury, and, yielding to Alfred’s most earnest request, he consented +to send him, in company with Father Cuthbert, who was to be the future prior, +upon the mission. +</p> + +<p> +Since the desertion of Elfric, his brother Alfred had been as a ministering +angel to his father, so tender had been his affection, yet so manly and pure. +He was by nature gifted with great talents, and his progress in ecclesiastical +lore, almost the only lore of the day, would have well fitted him for the +Church; but if this idea had ever been in the mind of the thane, he put it +aside after the departure of Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +But it must not be supposed that the only literature of the period was in +Latin. Alfred, the great King Alfred, skillful in learning as in war, had +translated into English (as we have mentioned earlier in our tale) the +<i>History of the World</i>, by Orosius, and other works, which formed a part +of the royal library in the palace of Edred. All these works were known to his +young namesake, Alfred, far better than they had been either to Edwy or Elfric, +in their idleness, and he was well informed beyond the average scope of his +time. But his imagination had long been fired by the accounts he had received +of Glastonbury and its sanctuary, so that he eagerly besought his father to +allow him to go thither. +</p> + +<p> +But the poor old thane felt much like Jacob when he was begged to send Benjamin +into Egypt. Elfric was not, so far as home ties were concerned, they had never +heard of him since the coronation day, and now they would take Alfred from him. +</p> + +<p> +It may seem strange to our readers that Ella should regard a journey from the +Midlands to Glastonbury in so serious a light; but Wessex and Mercia had long +been independent states, communication infrequent, and it would certainly be +many weeks before Alfred could return; while inexperience magnified the actual +dangers of the way. +</p> + +<p> +Coaches and carriages were not in use, neither would the state of the roads +have rendered such use practicable. All travellers were forced to journey on +horseback, and, like Elfric when he departed from home, to carry all their +baggage in a similar manner. +</p> + +<p> +The navigation of the Avon, which would have opened the readiest road to the +southwest, was impeded by sandbanks and rapids; there were as yet no locks, no +canals. +</p> + +<p> +Once the Romans had made matchless roads, as in other parts of their empire, +but not a stone had been laid thereon since the days of Hengist and Horsa, and +many a stone had been taken away for building purposes, or to pave the +courtyards of Saxon homes.<a href="#EndNoteA18sym" +name="EndNoteA18anc"><sup>xviii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Still the ancient Foss Way, which once extended from Lincolnshire to +Devonshire, formed the best route, and it was decided to travel by it, making a +brief detour, so as to enable the party to pass the first night at the +residence of an old friend of the family who dwelt on the high borderland which +separates the counties of Oxford and Warwick, in old times the frontier between +the two Celtic tribes, the Dobuni and the Carnabii. +</p> + +<p> +So Father Cuthbert and Alfred, with three attendant serfs, left Æscendune +early on a fine summer morning, and followed a byroad through the forest, +until, after a few difficulties, arising from entanglement in copse or swamp, +they reached the Foss Way. Wide and spacious, this grand old road ran through +the dense forest in an almost unbroken line; huge trees overshadowed it on +either side, and the growth of underwood was so dense that no one could +penetrate it without difficulty. Sometimes the scene changed, and a dense +swamp, amidst which the timber of former generations rotted away, succeeded, +but the grand old road still offered, even in its decay, a firm and sure +footing. Built with consummate skill, the lower strata of which it was composed +remained so firm and unyielding, that, could the Romans but have returned for a +few years, they might have restored it to its ancient perfection, when the +traveller might post rapidly upon it from Lincoln even to Totness in +Devonshire. +</p> + +<p> +Little, however, did our travellers think of the grand men of old who had built +this mighty causeway six or seven centuries earlier. Their chief feeling, when +they reached it, was one of relief; the change was so acceptable from the +tangled and miry bypath through the forest. +</p> + +<p> +“Holy St. Wilfred,” exclaimed Father Cuthbert, “but my steed +hath wallowed like a hog. I have sunk in the deep mire where was no +footing.” +</p> + +<p> +“A little grooming will soon make him clean again, father.” +</p> + +<p> +“But verily we have passed through a slough and a wilderness, and my +inner man needeth refreshment; let us even partake of the savoury pies +wherewith the provident care of thy father hath provided us.” +</p> + +<p> +The suggestion was by no means a bad one, and the party sat down on a green and +sloping bank, overshadowed by a mighty oak which grew by the wayside. It was +noontide, and the shelter from the heat was not at all unpleasant. Their +wallets were overhauled, and choice provision found against famine by the road. +There were few, very few inns where travellers could obtain decent +accommodation, and every preparation had been made for a camp out when +necessary. +</p> + +<p> +So they ate their midday meal with thankfulness of heart, and reclined awhile +ere courting more fatigue. The day was lovely, and the silence of the woods +almost oppressive; nought save the hum of insects broke its tranquillity. +</p> + +<p> +Fatigued by the exertions of the morning, the whole party fell asleep; the +gentle breeze, the quiet rustling of the leaves, all combined to lull the +senses. While they thus slept, the day wore on, and the sun was declining when +they awoke and wondered that they had wasted their time for so long a period. +</p> + +<p> +Starting again with renewed energy, they travelled onward through the mighty +forest till sunset, when they approached the high ground which now runs along +the northern boundary of Oxfordshire and of which Edgehill forms a portion. +Though progress had been slow, for the road, although secure, was yet in so +neglected a state as to form an obstacle to rapid travelling, and they had met +no fellow travellers. Leaving the Foss Way, which followed the valley, and +slowly ascending the hill by a well-marked track, they looked back from its +summit upon a glorious view. Far as the eye could reach stretched the forest to +the northward, one huge unbroken expanse save where the thin wreaths of smoke +showed some village or homestead, where English farmers already wrestled with +the obstacles nature had formed. But westward the view was more home-like; the +setting sun was sinking behind the huge heights now known as the Malvern Hills, +which reared their forms proudly in the distant horizon. +</p> + +<p> +The western sky was rich in the hues of the departing sun, which cast its +declining beams upon village and homestead, thinly scattered in the fertile +vale through which the Foss Way pursued its course. +</p> + +<p> +But our travellers did not stay long to contemplate the beauty of the scene; +they were yet ten miles from the hospitable roof where they had purposed +spending the night, and they had overslept themselves so long at their noontide +halt, that they found darkness growing apace, while their weary animals could +scarcely advance farther. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no inn, no Christian dwelling near, where we may repose? Verily +my limbs bend beneath me with fatigue,” said Father Cuthbert. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no dwelling of Christian men nearer than the halls of the Thane +of Rollrich, and we shall scarcely reach them for a couple of hours,” +said Oswy, the serf. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art a Job’s comforter. What sayest thou, Anlac?” +</p> + +<p> +“There are the remains of an old temple of heathen times not far from +here, a little on the right hand of the road, but they say the place is +haunted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has it a roof to shelter us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Part of the ruins are well covered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then thither we will go. Peradventure it will prove a safe abiding place +against wolves or evil men, and if there be demons we must even exorcise +them.” +</p> + +<p> +When they had emerged from the forest, they had, as we have seen, ascended the +high tableland which formed the northern frontier of the territory of the +Dobuni—passing over the very ground where, seven hundred years later, the +troops of the King and the Parliament were arrayed against each other in deadly +combat for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +But at this remote period the country where the Celts had once lived, and +whence their civilised descendants had been driven by the English, had become a +barren moorland. Scarce a tree grew on the heights, but a wild common, with +valley and hill alternating, much as on Dartmoor at the present day, stretched +before the travellers, and was traversed by the old Roman trackway. Dreary +indeed it looked in the darkening twilight; here and there some huge crag +overtopped the road, and then the track lay along a flat surface. It was after +passing some huge misshapen stones, which spoke of early Celtic worship, that +suddenly, in the distance on the right, the ruined temple lay before them. +</p> + +<p> +Pillars of beautiful workmanship, evidently reared by Roman skill, surrounded a +paved quadrangle raised upon a terrace approached on all sides by steps. These +steps and the pavement were alike of stone, but where weeds could grow they had +grown, and the footing was damp and slippery with rank vegetation and fungus +growth. +</p> + +<p> +At the extremity of the quadrangle the roof still partly covered the adytum or +shrine from the sky, the platform reared itself upon its flight of massive +steps where early British Christianity had demolished the idol, and beneath +were chambers once appropriated to the use of the priests, which, by the aid of +fire, could shortly be made habitable. +</p> + +<p> +There was plenty of brushwood and underwood near, and our travellers speedily +made a large fire, which expelled the damp from the place, albeit, as the smoke +could only escape by an aperture in the roof, which, it is needless to say, was +not embraced in the original design of the architect, it was not till the blaze +had subsided and the glowing embers alone warmed the chamber, that mortal lungs +could bear the stifling atmosphere, so charged had it been with smoke. +</p> + +<p> +Still it was very acceptable shelter to the travellers, who must otherwise have +camped out on the exposed moorland, and they made a hearty and comfortable +meal, which being concluded, Father Cuthbert made a very brief address. +</p> + +<p> +“My brethren,” he said, “we have travelled, like Abraham from +Ur of the Chaldees, not ‘<i>sine numine</i>,’ that is not without +God’s protection; and as we are about to sleep in a place where devils +once deluded Christian people, it will not be amiss to say the night song, and +commend ourselves ‘<i>in manus Altissimi</i>,’ that is to say, to +God’s care.” +</p> + +<p> +The compline service was familiar to each one present, and Father Cuthbert +intoned it in a stentorian voice, particularly those portions of the 91st Psalm +which seemed to defy the Evil One, and he recited just as if he were sure Satan +was listening: +</p> + +<p> +“Thou shalt go upon the lion and the adder; the young lion and the dragon +shalt thou tread under thy feet.” +</p> + +<p> +All the company seemed to feel comfort in the words, and, first posting a +sentinel, to be relieved every three hours, they commended themselves to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred found his couch very pleasant at first, but before he had been long +asleep his rest became disturbed by singular dreams. He thought he was standing +within a grassy glade in a deep forest; it was darkening twilight, and he felt +anxious to find his way from the spot, when his guardian angel appeared to him, +and pointed out a narrow track between two huge rocks. He followed until he +heard many voices, and saw a strange light reflected on the tree tops, as if +from beneath, when amidst the din of voices he recognised Elfric’s tones. +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldst thou save thy brother, then proceed,” his guardian angel +seemed to whisper. +</p> + +<p> +He strove, in his dream, to proceed, when he awoke so vividly impressed that he +felt convinced coming events were casting their shadows before. He could not +drive the thought of Elfric from his mind; he slept, but again in wild dreams +his brother seemed to appear; once he seemed to oppose Elfric’s passage +over a plank which crossed a roaring torrent; then he seemed as if he were +falling, falling, amidst rushing waters, when he awoke. +</p> + +<p> +“I can sleep no longer. I will look out at the night,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +A faint moon had arisen, and lent an uncertain light to the outlines of hill, +crag, and moorland, while it gilded the cornice above, where the wind seemed to +linger and moan over departed greatness. The Druidical worship of olden days, +the deluded worshippers now turned into dust, and the cruel rites of their +bloodstained worship, older even than those of the ruined temple, rose before +his imagination, until fancy seemed to people the silent wastes before him with +those who had once crowded round that circle of misshapen stones which stood +out vividly on the verge of the plain. +</p> + +<p> +He felt that nameless fear which such thoughts excite so strongly, that he +sought the company of the sentinel whom they had posted to guard their +slumbers, and found not one but two at the post. +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy and Anlac! both watching?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was too lonesome for one,” said Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen or heard aught amiss?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. About an hour ago, there were cries such as men make when they die +in torture, smothered by other sounds like the beating of drums, blowing of +horns, and I know not what.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were surely dreaming?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; it came from yonder circle of stones, and a light like that of a +great fire seemed to shine around.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred made no reply; but he remembered that they had talked of the Druidical +rites the night before, and thought that the idea had taken such hold upon the +minds of his followers as to suggest the sounds to their fancy. Still he +watched with them till the first red streak of day appeared in the east. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/> +ELFRIC AND ALFRED.</h2> + +<p> +Early in the morning our travellers arose and took their way through an open +country which abounded with British and Roman remains; no fewer than three +entrenched camps, once fortifying the frontier of the Dobuni, lying within +sight or hard by the road, which, skirting the summit of the watershed between +the Thames and the Avon, afforded magnificent views. +</p> + +<p> +About an hour after starting they came upon a singular monument of Druidical +times, consisting of sixty huge stones arranged in a circular form, with an +entrance at the northeast, while a single rock or large stone, the largest of +all, stood apart from the circle, as if looking down into the valley beneath.<a +href="#EndNoteA19sym" name="EndNoteA19anc"><sup>xix</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +“What can be the origin of this circle?” said Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“It belongs to the old days of heathenesse; before the Welsh were +conquered by the Romans, perhaps before our Blessed Lord came into the world, +these stones were placed as you now see them,” replied Father Cuthbert. +</p> + +<p> +“What purpose could they serve?” +</p> + +<p> +“For their devil worship, I suppose; you see those five stones which +stand at some little distance?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are the Five Whispering Knights,” said Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +“They are the remains of a cromlech or altar whereon they offered their +sons and daughters unto devils, and shed innocent blood, wherefore the Lord +brought the Romans upon them.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the Romans were idolatrous, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet their religion was milder than the one it superseded. Jupiter +required no human sacrifices; and even otherwise, God has said that the wicked +man is often His sword to avenge Him of His adversaries.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy looks as if he had a tale to tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak out, Oswy, and let us all hear,” said the good father. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” said Oswy, “these were not once stones at all, +but living men—a king, five knights, and sixty soldiers—who came to +take Long Compton, the town down there, in the valley; but it so happened that +a great enchanter dwelt there, and being out that morning he saw them coming, +muttered his spells, and while the king —that stone yonder—was in +front looking down on his prey, the five knights all whispering together, and +the sixty soldiers behind in a circle, they were all suddenly changed into +stone.” +</p> + +<p> +They all laughed heartily at this, and leaving the Rholdrwyg Stones, turned +aside to the hospitable hall where they ought to have spent the previous night. +So delighted was the Thane of Rholdrwyg or Rollrich to receive his guests that +he detained them almost by force all that day, and it was only on the morrow +that he permitted them to continue their journey. +</p> + +<p> +They joined the Foss Way again after a few miles at Stow on the Wold; the road +was so good that they succeeded in reaching Cirencester, the ancient Corinium, +that night, a distance of nearly thirty miles. Here they found a considerable +population, for the town had been one of great importance, and was still one of +the chief cities of southern Mercia, full of the remains of her departed Roman +greatness, with shattered column and shapely arch yet diversifying the thatched +hovels of the Mercians. +</p> + +<p> +Two more days brought them to Bath, but the old Roman city had been utterly +destroyed, and long subsequently the English town had been founded upon its +site, so that there seemed no identity between Bath and Aqua Solis, such as +prevailed between Cirencester and Corinium. +</p> + +<p> +One day’s journey from Bath brought them at eventide within an easy day +of Glastonbury, so that they paused in their journey for the last time at a +well-known hostelry, chiefly occupied by pilgrims bound for Glastonbury, for +the morrow was a high festival, or rather the commencement of one, and Dunstan +was expected to conduct the ceremonies in person. +</p> + +<p> +So crowded was the hostelry that Alfred and his revered tutor could only obtain +a small chamber for their private accommodation, while their servants were +forced to content themselves with such share of the straw of the outbuildings +as they could obtain, in company with many others. +</p> + +<p> +It was still early when they stopped at the inn, for one of their horses, which +they had purchased by the way, had broken down so completely that they could +not well proceed, and they were about to enter a dark and dangerous forest, +full of ravenous bears and wolves, which had already cast its shade upon their +path. +</p> + +<p> +But this was not an uncommon feature in English travelling of that century, +when there were no horses to be hired at the inns, and travellers could only +purchase the animals they needed (if there were any to be sold); the forest, +too, was reported to be the haunt of freebooters, and men dared to affirm that +they were encouraged by the king to prey upon the fraternity at Glastonbury. +</p> + +<p> +Still the dangers of the forest did not deter Alfred, who dearly loved woodland +scenery and sport, from strolling therein when their hasty meal had been +despatched, weary of the continuous objurgations and smalltalk of the crowded +inn. +</p> + +<p> +He had wandered some distance, lost in thought, when all at once he started in +some surprise, for the spot on which he was seemed familiar to him, although he +had never been in Wessex before. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he certainly knew the glade, with the fine beech trees surrounding it: +where could he have seen it before? All at once he remembered his dream in the +ruined temple, and started to discover the secret foreknowledge he had thus +possessed. +</p> + +<p> +He wandered up and down the glade till it became dusk, and then shook off the +thoughts to which he had been a prey, and started to return to the inn, when, +to his dismay, he found he had forgotten in which direction it lay. +</p> + +<p> +While seeking to find the path by which he had entered the glade, he suddenly +noticed a beaten track between two huge rocks, which seemed to point in the +direction he had come, and yet which he recognised as the path he had been +bidden to follow in his dream. He hesitated not, but committed himself to it, +while darkness seemed to increase each moment. +</p> + +<p> +He was beginning to fear the dangers of a night in the woods, when he was +startled by a sound as of many low voices, and at the same moment became +conscious that a light was tinging with red the upper branches of the trees at +no little distance, as if proceeding from some fire, hidden by the formation of +the ground. +</p> + +<p> +At first he thought that he was in the neighbourhood of outlaws, and tried to +retire, but, as in his dream, he felt so strong an impulse to discover the +party whom the woods concealed that he persevered. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he stopped short, for he had come to the edge of a kind of natural +amphitheatre, a deep hollow in the earth, the sides of which were covered with +bushes and trees, while the area at the bottom might perhaps have covered a +hundred square yards, and was clothed with verdant turf. Not one, but several +fires were burning, and around them were reclining small groups of armed men, +while some were walking about chatting with each other. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred gazed in much surprise, for the party did not at all realise his +conception of a body of freebooters or robbers; they all seemed to wear the +same uniform, and to resemble each other in their accoutrements and +characteristics; they rather resembled, in short, a detachment of regular +forces than a body of men whom chance might have thrown together, or the +fortune of predatory war. +</p> + +<p> +While he gazed upon them, two of their number, whose attire was rich and +costly, and who seemed to be of higher rank than the rest, perhaps their +officers, attracted his attention as they walked near the spot where, clinging +to a tree, he overlooked the encampment from above. +</p> + +<p> +One of them was a tall, dark warrior, whose whole demeanour was that of the +professional soldier, whose dress was plain yet rich, and who might easily be +guessed to be the commander of the party. He was talking earnestly, but in a +subdued tone, to his younger companion, whom he seemed to be labouring to +convince of the propriety of some course of action. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred watched them eagerly; the form of the younger—for so he appeared +by his slender frame—seemed familiar to him, and when at last they turned +their faces and walked towards him, the light of a neighbouring fire showed him +the face of his brother Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“My dream!” he mentally exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +They were evidently talking about some very important subject, and it was also +evident that the objections of the younger, whatever they might be, were +becoming rapidly overruled, when, as chance, if it were chance, would have it, +they paused in their circuit of the little camp just beneath the tree where +Alfred was posted. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” said the elder, “that our course is clear, so +definitely clear that we have but to do our duty to the king, while we avenge a +thousand little insults we have ourselves received from this insolent +monk—such insults as warriors wash out with blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet he is a churchman, and it would be called utter sacrilege.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sacrilege! is a churchman’s blood redder than that of layman, and +is he not doomed as a traitor by a judgment as righteous as ever English law +pronounced! did he not keep Edwy from his throne during the lifetime of the +usurper Edred!” +</p> + +<p> +“That was the sentence of the Witan, and you served Edred.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not owe the allegiance of an Englishman to either, being of +foreign birth, and so was no traitor; as for the Witan, it is well known +Dunstan influenced their decision at the death of the royal Edmund.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never heard the assertion before.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have many things still to learn; you are but young as yet. But let +it pass. Does not his conduct to Queen Elgiva merit death!” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it does. But still not without sentence of law.” +</p> + +<p> +“That sentence has been in fact pronounced, for in such cases as these, +where the subject is too powerful for the direct action of the law to reach +him, the decision of the king and council must pass for law, and they have +decided that Dunstan must die, and have left the execution of the +sentence—to us.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not add that the council in question consisted of the giddy young nobles +who had surrounded Edwy from the first, aided by a few hoary sinners whose +lives of plunder and rapine had given them a personal hatred of the Church. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric heaved a sigh, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“If so, I suppose I must obey; but I wish I had not been sent on the +expedition.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is to test your loyalty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it shall be proved. I have no personal motives of gratitude towards +Dunstan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather the contrary.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather the contrary, as you say. But what sound was that? Surely +something stirred the bush!” +</p> + +<p> +“A rabbit or a hare. You are becoming fanciful and timid. Well, you will +remember that tomorrow there must be no timidity, no yielding to what some +would call conscience, but wise men the scruples of superstition. We shall not +reach the monastery till dark, most of the visitors will then have quitted it, +and we shall take the old fox in a trap.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will not slay him in cold blood!” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I shall bid him follow me to the king, and if he and his resist, as +probably they will, then their blood be on their own heads. But +surely—” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a large stone, which Alfred had most inopportunely dislodged, +rolled down the bank, and made Elfric, who was in its path, leap aside. Alfred, +whose foot had rested upon it, slipped, and for a moment seemed in danger of +following the stone, but he had happily time to grasp the tree securely, and by +its aid he drew himself back and darted into the wood. +</p> + +<p> +Luckily there was moonlight enough to guide him by the track he had hitherto +followed, and he ran forward, dreading nothing so much as to fall into the +hands of the friends of his brother, and trusting that he might prevent the +execution of the foul deed he had heard meditated. He ran for a long distance +before he paused, when he became aware that pursuers were on his track. Luckily +his life had been spent so much in the open air that he was capable of great +exertion, and could run well. So he resumed his course, although he knew not +where it would lead him, and soon had the pleasure of feeling that he was +distancing his pursuers. Yet every time he ran over a piece of smooth turf he +fancied he could hear them in his rear, and it was with the greatest feeling of +relief that he suddenly emerged from the wood upon the Foss Way, and saw the +lights of the hostelry at no great distance below him. +</p> + +<p> +His pursuers did not follow him farther, probably unwilling to betray their +presence to the neighbourhood, and perhaps utterly unconscious that the +intruder upon their peace was possessed of any dangerous secrets, or other than +some rustic woodman belated on his homeward way, who would be unable in any +degree to interfere with them or to guess their designs. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not till the ardour of his flight had abated, that Alfred could +fully realise that his unhappy brother was committed to a deed of scandalous +atrocity, and the discovery was hard for him to bear. The strong impression +which his dream had made upon him—an impression that he was to be the +means of saving his brother from some great sin—came upon him now with +greater force than ever, and was of great comfort. The identity of the scenery +he had seen in dreamland with the actual scenery he had gone through, made him +feel that he was under the special guidance of Providence. +</p> + +<p> +Returning to the inn he sought Father Cuthbert, and found him somewhat uneasy +at his long absence, and to him he communicated all that he had seen and heard. +</p> + +<p> +The good father was a man of sound sense but of much affection, and at first he +could not credit that the boy he had loved so well, Elfric of Æscendune, +should have grown to be the associate of murderers, for such only could either +he or Alfred style the agents of Edwy’s wrath. +</p> + +<p> +But, once fully convinced, he was equal to the emergency. +</p> + +<p> +“We will not start at once, we should but break down on the road, and +defeat our own object. We must rest quietly, and sleep soundly if possible, and +start with the earliest dawn. We shall reach Glastonbury by midday, and be able +to warn the holy abbot of his danger in good time.” +</p> + +<p> +So Alfred was forced to curb his impatience and to try to sleep soundly. Father +Cuthbert soon gave good assurance that he was asleep; but the noisy manner in +which the assurance was given banished sleep from the eyelids of his anxious +pupil. At length he yielded to weariness both of mind and body, and the +overwrought brain was still. +</p> + +<p> +He was but little refreshed when he heard Father Cuthbert’s morning +salutation, “<i>Benedicamus Domino</i>,” and could hardly stammer +out the customary reply, “<i>Deo gratias</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Every one rose early in those days, and the timely departure of the party from +Æscendune excited no special comment. Hundreds of pilgrims were on the road, +and Alfred expressed his conviction that there would be force enough at +Glastonbury to protect Dunstan, to which Father Cuthbert +replied—“If he would accept such protection.” +</p> + +<p> +On former days their journey had been frequently impeded by broken bridges and +dangerous fords; but as they drew near Glastonbury the presence of a mighty +civilising power became manifest. The fields were well tilled, for the +possessions for miles around the abbey were let to tenant farmers by the monks, +who had first reclaimed them from the wilderness. The farm houses and the +abodes of the poor were better constructed, and the streams were all bridged +over, while the old Roman road was kept in tolerable repair. +</p> + +<p> +A short distance before they reached the city, the pilgrims, who were a space +in advance of the party, came in sight of the towers of the monastery, +whereupon they all paused for one moment, and raised the solemn strain then but +recently composed— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I.<br/> +Founded on the Rock of Ages,<br/> +Salem, city of the blest,<br/> +Built of living stones most precious,<br/> +Vision of eternal rest,<br/> +Angel hands, in love attending,<br/> +Thee in bridal robes invest.<br/> +II.<br/> +Down from God all new descending<br/> +Thee our joyful eyes behold,<br/> +Like a bride adorned for spousals,<br/> +Decked with radiant wealth untold;<br/> +All thy streets and walls are fashioned,<br/> +All are bright with purest gold!<br/> +III.<br/> +Gates of pearl, for ever open,<br/> +Welcome there the loved, the lost;<br/> +Ransomed by their Saviour’s merits;<br/> +This the price their freedom cost:<br/> +City of eternal refuge,<br/> +Haven of the tempest-tost.<br/> +IV.<br/> +Fierce the blow, and firm the pressure,<br/> +Which hath polished thus each stone:<br/> +Well the Mastermind hath fitted<br/> +To his chosen place each one.<br/> +When the Architect takes reck’ning,<br/> +He will count the work His Own.<br/> +V.<br/> +Glory be to God, the Father;<br/> +Glory to th’ Eternal Son;<br/> +Glory to the Blessed Spirit:<br/> +One in Three, and Three in One.<br/> +Glory, honour, might, dominion,<br/> +While eternal ages run.<br/> +Amen. <a href="#EndNoteA20sym" name="EndNoteA20anc">xx</a> +</p> + +<p> +The grand strains seemed to bring assurance of Divine aid to Alfred, and he +could but imitate Father Cuthbert, who lifted up his stentorian voice and +thundered out in chorus, as they drew near the pilgrims. +</p> + +<p> +Here they left the Foss Way for the side road leading to the monastery, now +only a short distance from them. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/> +THE FLIGHT OF DUNSTAN.</h2> + +<p> +It was the day of St. Alban, the protomartyr of England, and the saint was +greatly honoured at Glastonbury, where, as we have seen, Dunstan was in +residence, and, as a natural consequence, every department of the monastic life +was quickened by his presence. The abbey was full of monks who had professed +the Benedictine rule, and having but recently been rebuilt, it possessed many +improvements hardly yet introduced into English architecture in general. The +greater part of the building was of stone, and it was not, in its general +features, unlike some of the older colleges at Oxford or Cambridge, although +the order of the architecture was, of course, exclusively that of the Saxon +period, characterised by the heavy and massive, yet imposing, circular arch. +</p> + +<p> +But upon the church or abbey chapel all the skill of the architect had been +concentrated, and it seemed worthy alike of its founder and of its object. Seen +upon the morning in question, when the bright summer sun filled every corner +with gladsome light, just as the long procession of white-robed priests, and +monks in their sombre garb, with their hoods thrown back, were entering for +high mass, and the choral psalm arose, it was peculiarly imposing. +</p> + +<p> +The procession had not long entered the church, when the party of pilgrims we +have described, closely followed by our friends from Æscendune, entered the +quadrangle, and crossed it to the great porch of the church. It was with the +greatest difficulty they could enter, for the whole floor of the huge building +was crowded with kneeling worshippers. The portion of Scripture appointed for +the epistle was being chanted, and the words struck Alfred’s ears as he +entered—“He pleased God, and was beloved of Him, so that, living +among sinners, he was translated.” +</p> + +<p> +The words seemed to come upon him with special application to the danger the +great abbot was in, and the thought that the martyr’s day might be +stained by a deed of blood, or, as some might say, hallowed by another +martyrdom, added to his agitation. +</p> + +<p> +And now he had gained a position where the high altar was in full view, +illuminated by its countless tapers, and fragrant with aromatic odours. There, +in the centre of the altar, his face turned to the people as the sequence was +ended, and the chanting of the gospel from the rood loft began, stood the +celebrant, and Alfred gazed for the first time upon the face of Dunstan, +brought out in strong relief by the glare of the artificial light. +</p> + +<p> +He strove earnestly to concentrate his thoughts upon the sacred words. They +were from the sixteenth of St. Matthew, beginning at the words: +</p> + +<p> +“Then said Jesus unto His disciples, If any man will come after Me, let +him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. +</p> + +<p> +“For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it and whosoever will lose +his life for My sake, shall find it.” +</p> + +<p> +He could not but feel the strange coincidence that words such as these should +come to strengthen him, when he felt he had most need to shelter himself under +the shadow of the Cross. The service proceeded, the creed, sanctus, and other +choral portions being sung by the whole monastic body in sonorous strains; and +for a time Alfred was able to make a virtue of necessity, and to give himself +wholly to the solemnity; but when it was over and the procession left the +church, he sought an immediate interview with the abbot, in company with Father +Cuthbert. +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan had removed his sacerdotal garments, and had returned to his own cell, +which only differed in size from the cells of his brethren. The furniture was +studiously plain: hard wooden chairs; an unvarnished table; a wooden bedstead, +with no bed, and only a loose coverlet of sackcloth; the walls uncovered by +tapestry; the floor unfurnished with rushes;—such was the chamber of the +man who had ruled England, and still exercised the most unbounded spiritual +influence in the land. +</p> + +<p> +There was no ostentation in this; every monk in the monastery lived in similar +simplicity. Precious books and manuscripts, deeply laden with gold and colours, +were deposited on coarse wooden shelves, while the Benedictine Breviary lay on +the table, written by some learned and painstaking scribe, skilful in +illumination. +</p> + +<p> +The appearance of the abbot was little changed since we last beheld him; +perhaps care had traced a few more lines in his countenance, and his general +manner was more prompt and decided, now that danger menaced him, for menace him +he knew it did, although he hardly knew from what quarter the bolt would fall. +</p> + +<p> +A lay brother brought him some slight refreshment, the first he had taken +during the day. +</p> + +<p> +The humility inculcated by each precept of the order forbade the brother in +question to speak until his superior gave him leave to do so; but Dunstan read +at once the desire of his subordinate, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“What hast thou to tell me, Brother Osgood?” +</p> + +<p> +“Many people are without, seeking speech of thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is the case each day; are there any whose business appears +pressing?” +</p> + +<p> +“A company has arrived from Æscendune, or some such place in Mercia, and +two of the party—a priest and a young layman—seek an immediate +interview, saying their business is of life and death.” +</p> + +<p> +“Æscendune!—admit them first.” +</p> + +<p> +The brother left the cell at once, and soon returned, ushering in Father +Cuthbert and Alfred, who saluted the great churchman with all due humility, and +waited for him to speak, not without much evident uneasiness; perhaps some +little impatience was also manifest. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you of the house of Æscendune, my son?” enquired Dunstan of +Alfred. “Methinks I know you by your likeness to your brother +Elfric.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am the son of Ella, father; we have been sent on pressing business, +which is notified by this parchment” (presenting the formal request on +the part of the brethren of Æscendune, which was the original cause of their +journey) “but we have yet a more pressing matter to bring before you: +wicked men seek your life, my father.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am well aware of that; surely you do not dream, my son, that my eyes +are closed to a fact known throughout unhappy England.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my father, I speak of immediate danger, which God in His great +mercy enabled me to discover but last night; this very night the abbey will be +attacked, and your life or liberty in danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“This night!” said Dunstan, in surprise; “and how have you +discovered this? Do not hesitate, my son tell me all.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus adjured, Alfred repeated the whole story of his discovery of the concealed +expedition. +</p> + +<p> +“You saw the leaders closely then?” said Dunstan, when he had +finished; “describe the elder one to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“A tall dark man, like a foreign soldier, in plain but rich apparel, a +scar on the right cheek.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, my son, I know him; his name is Redwald, and he is the captain of +the king’s bodyguard. Now describe the other with whom he held +converse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father, I cannot.” +</p> + +<p> +“My son—” but Dunstan paused, for he saw that poor Alfred had +covered his face with his hands, and he at once divined the truth, with full +conviction, at the same time, of the truth and earnestness of Alfred’s +statement. +</p> + +<p> +“My son, God can dispose and turn the hearts of all men as seemeth best +to His wisdom; and I doubt not, in answer to our fervent prayers, He will turn +the heart of your poor brother. Meanwhile, we ourselves will take such +precautions as shall spare him the guilt of sacrilege. +</p> + +<p> +“Brother Osgood, summon the prior to my presence, and cause the brethren +to assemble, one and all, in the chapter house: we have need of instant +deliberation.” +</p> + +<p> +The lay brother departed, and Dunstan, whose cheerfulness did not desert him +for one moment, chatted familiarly with Father Cuthbert, or perused the +parchment the good father had just presented through Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a great and pleasing thing,” he said, “to behold how +our Order is spreading through this benighted land, and how spiritual children +arise everywhere to our holy father Benedict; surely the time is near at hand +when the wilderness shall blossom as the rose.” +</p> + +<p> +The prior, Father Guthlac, entered at this moment, and Dunstan talked apart +with him for some moments with extreme earnestness, but only the last words +which passed between them were audible. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my brother, you have the words of Scripture,” said Dunstan, +“to support your proposal: ‘When they persecute you in one city, +flee ye unto another.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet it is hard to leave a spot one has reared with such tender +care.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was One Who left more for us; and I do not think they will destroy +the place, or even attempt to destroy it: they will fill it with those +‘slow bellies, those evil beasts,’ the secular clergy, with their +wives.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fitter it should be a stye for hogs.” <a href="#EndNoteA21sym" +name="EndNoteA21anc"><sup>xxi</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, they are men after all; yet there is some reason to fear that, like +hogs, they wallow in the mire of sensuality; but their day will be but a short +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father!” +</p> + +<p> +“But a short one; it hath been foreshown me in visions of the night that +the Evil One will triumph indeed, but that his triumph will be very short; and, +alas a green tree which standeth in the pride of its youth and might must, ere +the close of that triumph, be hewn down.” +</p> + +<p> +“By our hands, father?” +</p> + +<p> +“God forbid! by the Hand of God, I speak but as it has been revealed to +me.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a well-known fact that Dunstan either was subject to marvellous +hallucinations, and was a monomaniac on that one point, while so wise in all +other matters, or that he was the object of special revelations, and was +favoured with spiritual visions, as well as temptations, which do not +ordinarily fall within the observation or experience of men. +</p> + +<p> +So Father Guthlac and the rest of the company listened with the greatest +reverence to his declaration, as to the words of an inspired oracle. +</p> + +<p> +“But let us go to our brethren; they await us,” said Dunstan, +speaking to the prior. “Brother Osgood, take these our guests to the +refectorarius, and ask him to see that they and all their company taste our +bounty at least this day; tomorrow we may have nought to offer them.” +</p> + +<p> +In the famous chapter of the whole house of Glastonbury which followed, and +which became historical, prompt resolution was taken on Dunstan’s report, +which did honour to the brotherhood, as evincing both their resignation and +their trust in God, Who they believed would, to use the touching phrase of the +Psalmist, “turn their captivity as the rivers in the south;” so +that they “who went forth weeping, bearing good seed, should come again +with joy, and bring their sheaves with them.” +</p> + +<p> +So it was at once agreed that the whole community should break up immediately; +that within the next hour all the monks should depart for the various +monasteries of the Benedictine order; and that Dunstan himself, with but two +companions, should take refuge across the sea, sailing from the nearest port on +the Somersetshire coast. +</p> + +<p> +A dozen of the brethren were to return with Father Cuthbert and Alfred to +Æscendune at once, and to bear with them all the necessary powers for the +accomplishment of the good thane’s wishes in regard to the monastery of +St. Wilfred, while Father Cuthbert was then and there admitted by Dunstan to +the order of St. Benedict —the necessity of the case justifying some +departure from the customary formalities. +</p> + +<p> +All being completely ordered and arranged, the chapter broke up, and within an +hour the monks were leaving as rapidly as boys leave school when breaking-up +day comes, but not quite so joyously. They strove to attract as little +attention as possible, and, in most cases, travelled in the ordinary dress of +the country. +</p> + +<p> +Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines who were to accompany him on his +return—- so much more speedy than had been anticipated —were +already prepared to start, when, to their surprise, Alfred could not be found. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred was at that moment in the cell of Dunstan, with whom he had obtained, +not without great trouble, another brief interview. +</p> + +<p> +“God bless you, my son,” said Dunstan, “and render unto you +according to all you have done for His glory this day, and restore you your +brother safe in body and soul!” +</p> + +<p> +But it was not merely for a blessing that Alfred had sought the abbot. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” he said, “if I have happily been of service to you, +I ask but one favour in return; one brother has sought your life, let the other +remain with you as a bodyguard.” +</p> + +<p> +“But your father?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am satisfied that I am but speaking as he would have me speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you will become an exile.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gladly, if I can but serve you, father.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my child, I have no means of support for you abroad; as monks we +shall find hospitality in every Benedictine house, but you are only a +layman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, father, I but ask you to allow me to accompany you to the +coast.” +</p> + +<p> +“I grant it, my son, for I believe God inspires the wish. Be it as you +desire, but one of your serfs must accompany you; it would not be safe to +travel home alone.” +</p> + +<p> +So Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines started back to Æscendune without +Alfred, bearing Dunstan’s explanation of the matter to the half-bereaved +father whose faith, they feared, would be sorely tried, and leaving Oswy to be +his companion. +</p> + +<p> +It was now drawing near nightfall, and the abbey was almost deserted; all the +pilgrims had left with the monks, although many of them would willingly have +put their trust in the arm of flesh and remained to fight for Dunstan against +his temporal foes, even as he—so they piously believed—routed their +spiritual enemies. In that vast abbey there were now but six +persons—Dunstan, Guthlac, Alfred, the lay brother Osgood, Oswy, and a +guide who knew all the bypaths of the country. +</p> + +<p> +Desolate and solitary indeed seemed the huge pile of untenanted buildings as +the evening breeze swept through them. The last straggler had gone; Dunstan was +still in his cell arranging or destroying certain papers, the guide and lay +brothers held six strong and serviceable horses in the courtyard below, near +the open gate, impatient to start, and blaming secretly the dilatoriness of +their great chieftain. They watched the sun as he sank lower and lower in the +western sky, and thought of the woods and forests they must traverse, +frequented by wolves, and sometimes by outlaws whom they dreaded far more. +Still Dunstan did not appear. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred and Guthlac, on a watchtower above, gazed on the plain stretched before +them. Mile after mile it extended towards that forest where the enemy was now +known to lurk, and they watched each road, nay, each copse and field, with +jealous eye, lest it should conceal an enemy. Ofttimes the shadow of some +passing cloud, as it swept over moor or mere, was taken for an armed host; +ofttimes the wind, as it sighed amongst the trees and blew the dried leaves +hither and thither, seemed to carry the warning “An enemy is near.” +</p> + +<p> +At length danger seemed to show itself plainly: just as the sun set, a dark +shadow moved from a distant angle of the forest on the plain beneath, and the +words “The enemy!” escaped simultaneously from Alfred and Guthlac +as the setting sun seemed reflected upon spear and sword, flashing in a hundred +points as they caught the reflection of the departing luminary. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred, at the prior’s desire, hurried to the chamber of Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” he said, “the enemy are near. They have left the +forest.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is four miles in distance: there will be time for me to finish this +letter to my brother of Abingdon.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, father, their horses may be fleeter than ours.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are under God’s protection: I am sure we shall not be +overtaken: be at peace, my son.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Alfred felt as if his faith were very sorely tried indeed, but he strove +to acquiesce. +</p> + +<p> +It was now quite dark, and the ears of the would-be fugitives were strained to +catch the sounds which should warn them of approaching danger. +</p> + +<p> +At length they fancied they heard sounds arise from the plain before them: +suppressed noises, such as must unavoidably be made by a force on its passage; +and Alfred again sought the cell of Dunstan, yet dared not enter, urgent though +the emergency seemed. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment he was startled by a demoniacal burst of laughter, which seemed +to fill the corridor in which he waited with exultant joy. +</p> + +<p> +What could it be? he felt as if he had never heard such laughter +before—so terrible, yet so boisterous. +</p> + +<p> +A moment of dread silence, and then it began again, and filled each corridor +and chamber. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Dunstan came forth, and saw the pale face of Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“It is only the devil,” he said “we are not ignorant of his +devices. +</p> + +<p> +“O Satan! thou that wert once an angel in heaven, art thou reduced to +bray like a jackass?” <a href="#EndNoteA22sym" +name="EndNoteA22anc"><sup>xxii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Again the exultant peal resounded. +</p> + +<p> +“Be at peace,” said the abbot; “thou rejoicest at my +departure; I shall soon return to defy thee and thy allies.” +</p> + +<p> +And the laughter ceased. +</p> + +<p> +“We must lose no time,” he said; “the moment is at +hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Locking each door behind him, he reached the party in the courtyard, and each +person mounted in a moment; then they passed under the great archway. Oswy had +remained behind one moment to lock the great gates, and then they all rode +forth boldly into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +They passed rapidly in a direction at right angles to that in which their +pursuers were approaching, and at the distance of a mile they halted for one +moment to ascertain the cause of a great uproar which suddenly arose. +</p> + +<p> +It was not difficult to divine its cause: it was the beating of axes and +hammers on the great outer door of the monastery. +</p> + +<p> +“It will occupy them nearly an hour,” said Dunstan, “and we +shall be far far away before they have succeeded in effecting an +entrance.” +</p> + +<p> +So they rode on rapidly into the night. Before them lay the Foss Way, the road +was good and well known to them, the moon was shining brightly, and their +spirits rose with the excitement and the exertion. Onward! Onward! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/> +AT HIS WORST.</h2> + +<p> +The unhappy Elfric had indeed fallen from his former self before he reached the +depth at which our readers have just seen him, joining with Redwald in the +unhallowed enterprise so happily frustrated, if indeed it were yet frustrated, +by his own brother. +</p> + +<p> +But when his father had returned to Æscendune alone, Elfric felt that home +ties were shattered, and that he had nothing but the royal favour to depend +upon, so he yielded to the wishes of King Edwy in all points. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately after his coronation, the reckless and ill-advised Edwy had married +Elgiva, <a href="#EndNoteB1sym" name="EndNoteB1anc"><sup>xxiii</sup></a> in +defiance of the ban of the Church, and then had abandoned himself to the +riotous society and foolish counsels of young nobles vainer than those who cost +Rehoboam so large a portion of his kingdom. Amongst these Elfric was soon +conspicuous and soon a leader. His spirit and physical courage far beyond his +years excited their admiration, and in return they taught him all the mysteries +of evil which were yet unknown to him. +</p> + +<p> +Under such influences both the king and his favourite threw off all outward +semblance even of religion, and only sought the means of enjoyment. Redwald +ministered without reserve or restraint to all their pleasures, and under his +evil influence Edwy even found occasion to rob and plunder his own grandmother, +a venerable Saxon princess, in order that he might waste the ill-gotten +substance in riotous living. +</p> + +<p> +Yet there was a refinement in his vice: he did not care for coarse sensual +indulgence to any great extent; his wickedness was that of a sensitive +cultivated intellect, of a highly-wrought nervous temperament. +Unscrupulous—careless of truth—contemptuous of religion—yet +he had all that attraction in his person which first endeared him to Elfric, +whom he really loved. Alas! his love was deadly as the breath of the upas tree +to his friend and victim. When the first measures of vengeance were taken +against Dunstan, with the concurrence of wicked but able ministers of state, +Redwald was selected as the agent who should bribe the thanes, and begin the +course of conduct which should eventually lead to the destruction of the enemy +of the king. He had only waited till the temper of the times seemed turned +against Dunstan (he judged it wrongly); and the king seemed secure against +every foe ere he planned the expedition we have introduced to our readers. +</p> + +<p> +We will now resume the thread of our narrative. +</p> + +<p> +When the band of soldiers, headed by Redwald, had gained the gates of the +monastery, they found them, as we have seen, firmly locked and barred. +</p> + +<p> +“Blow your horns; rouse up these sleepy monks to some purpose,” +said Redwald. “Why, they have not a light about the place.” +</p> + +<p> +A loud and vigorous blast of horns was blown, while the greater part of the +troop dismounted and paused impatiently for an answer from within. +</p> + +<p> +“Two or three of you step forward with your axes,” exclaimed +Redwald. +</p> + +<p> +They did so, and thundered on the gate without any success, so stoutly was it +made. +</p> + +<p> +“What can it mean?” said Redwald. “All is silent as the +grave.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; there is some one laughing at us,” said Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +A peal of merry laughter was heard within. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald was thoroughly enraged, and seizing an axe with his own hand, he set +the example of applying it to the gate, but without any result save to split a +few planks, while the iron framework, designed by Dunstan himself, who was +clever at such arts, held as firmly as ever. +</p> + +<p> +Unprovided with other means of forcing it, the besiegers had recourse to fire, +and gathering fuel with some difficulty, they piled it against the gate. +Shortly the woodwork caught, and the whole gate presently yielded to the action +of the fire; the iron bars, loosened by the destruction of the woodwork, gave +way, and the besiegers rushed into the quadrangle. Here, all was dark and +silent, not a sound to be heard or a light seen. +</p> + +<p> +“What can it mean? Have they fled? You all heard the laughter!” +</p> + +<p> +“There it is again.” +</p> + +<p> +The boisterous and untimely mirth had begun just within the abbot’s +lodgings, and the doorway at the foot was immediately attacked. It presently +yielded, and Redwald, who had obtained a good notion of the place, rushed with +his chief villains to the chamber he knew to be Dunstan’s; yet he began +to fear failure, for the absence of all the inmates was disheartening. No, not +all, for there was the loud laughter within the very chamber of the abbot. +</p> + +<p> +The door was fastened securely, and while the axes were doing their destructive +work upon it, the mocking laughter was again heard. Redwald had become so +enraged that he mentally vowed the direst vengeance upon the untimely jester, +when the door burst open and he rushed in. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he? Surely there was some one here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who could it be? We all heard the laughter.” +</p> + +<p> +But victim there was none; and searching all the place in vain, they had to +satiate their vengeance by destroying the humble furniture of the abbot. +</p> + +<p> +What to do next they knew not, and Redwald, deeply mystified, was reluctantly +forced to own his discomfiture, and to prepare to pass the night in the abbey. +Accordingly, his men dispersed in search of food and wine. Some found their way +to the buttery; it was but poorly supplied, all the provisions in the place +having been given to the poorer pilgrims by the departing monks. The cellar was +not so easily emptied, and such wine as had been stored up for future use was +at once appropriated. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald and Elfric, having shared the common meal gloomily, were seated in the +abbot’s chamber—little did Elfric dream that his brother had so +recently been in the same room—when one of the guards entered, bringing +with him a stranger. He turned out to be a neighbouring thane, one of those +bitter enemies to Dunstan whom Edwy had planted round the monastery, and he +came to give information that he had seen Dunstan with five companions escaping +by the Foss Way. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald jumped up eagerly. “How long since?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“About two hours, and ten miles off, I was returning home from a distant +farm of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you not stop them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was too weak for that; they were six to one. I heard you had been seen +coming here by a cowherd, and came to warn you. If you ride fast you may catch +the holy fox yet before he runs to earth; but you must be very quick.” +</p> + +<p> +“What pace were they riding?” +</p> + +<p> +“Slowly at that moment; it was up a hill.” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald rushed from the room, crying, “To horse, to horse!” but +found only a portion of his men awake: the others were mainly drunk and +sleeping it off on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Cursing their untimely indulgence, he got about a dozen men rapidly mounted on +the fleetest horses, taking care Elfric should be one, and dashed off in +pursuit of the fugitives. +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan and his party had ridden some four or five hours, when the moon became +overcast, and low peals of distant thunder were heard. The atmosphere was so +intensely hot, and the silence of nature so oppressive, that it was evident +some convulsion was at hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any shelter near?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only a ruined city <a href="#EndNoteB2sym" +name="EndNoteB2anc"><sup>xxiv</sup></a> in the wood on the left hand, but it is +a dangerous place to approach after nightfall. They say evil spirits lurk +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“They tell that story of every ruined place, be it city, temple, or +house; and even if it be, we have more cause to dread evil men than evil +spirits.” +</p> + +<p> +The guide hesitated no longer, and struck into a bypath, which penetrated the +depth of the woody marsh through which the Foss Way then had its course. After +a minute or two it became evident, from the footing, that they were upon the +paved work of a causeway overgrown with weeds and rank herbage; huge mounds +showed where fortifications had once existed, and shortly, broken pillars and +ruined walls appeared at irregular intervals. +</p> + +<p> +They had little time to look around them, for the storm had come rapidly up, +and the glare of the lightning was incessant, while the rain poured down in +absolute torrents. Before them rose a huge ruin covered with ivy and with the +roof partly protecting the interior. It was so large that they were able to +lead their horses within its protection and wait the cessation of the rain. +</p> + +<p> +Between the flashes the sky was intensely dark, but they were almost incessant, +and revealed the city of the dead in which they had found refuge. It was an +ancient Welsh town, and in the latter years of the deadly struggle with the +English, had been taken after a protracted resistance. Tradition had not even +preserved its name, and only stated that every living soul had perished in the +massacre when the outer walls were at length stormed and the town given to fire +and sword. The victors, as was frequently the case, had avoided the spot, +preferring to build elsewhere, and, like Silchester or Anderida, it had fallen +into desolation such as befell mighty Babylon. +</p> + +<p> +And now the ignorant rustic peopled its buildings with the imaginary forms of +doleful creatures, and shunned the fatal precincts where once family love and +social affections had flourished; where hearts, long mouldered to dust, had +beaten with tender affection, where all the little circumstances which make up +life—the trivial round, the common task—had gone on beneath the +summer’s sun or winter’s storm, till the great convulsion which +ended the existence of the whole community. +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan noticed that his whole party crowded closely together, and when the +lightning illuminated each face saw that fear had left its visible mark. +</p> + +<p> +The continuous roar of thunder, the hissing of the descending rain, the wind +which blew in angry gusts, prevented all conversation until nearly an hour had +elapsed, when the strife began to diminish. It was a sad and mournful sight to +gaze upon the remains of departed greatness when thus illuminated by the +electric flash, and easily might the fancy, deceived by the transient glimpses +of things, people the ruins with the shades of their departed inhabitants. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” said Alfred, at length, “who were they who lived +here? Do you know aught about them?” +</p> + +<p> +“The men whom our ancestors subdued—the Welsh, or British—an +unhappy race.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were they heathen?” +</p> + +<p> +“At one time, but they were converted by the missions from Rome and the +East, of which the earliest was that of St. Joseph of Arimathea to our own +Glastonbury; he may have preached to the very people who lived here, nay, in +this very basilica, which, I think, may have been converted into a +church.” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed the ruin of a basilica wherein they stood, but no trace survived +to show whether Dunstan’s conjecture was correct. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems strange that God should have permitted them to fall before the +sword of our heathen ancestors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Their own historian Gildas, who lies buried at Glastonbury, explains it. +He tells us that such was the corruption of faith and of morals towards the +close of their brief day, that had not the Saxon sword interposed; plague, +pestilence, or famine, or some similar calamity, must have done the fatal work. +God grant that we, now that in turn we have received the message of the Gospel, +may be more faithful servants, or similar ruin may, at no distant period, await +the Englishman also, as it did the Welshman.” +</p> + +<p> +He sighed deeply, and Alfred echoed the sigh in his heart; he read the +abbot’s thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you believe,” said he, after a pause, “that their spirits +ever revisit the earth?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not; many wise men have thought it possible, and that they may +haunt the places where they sinned, ever bearing their condemnation within +them, even while they clothe themselves in semblance of the mortal flesh they +once wore.” +</p> + +<p> +The whole party shuddered, and Father Guthlac said, deprecatingly: +</p> + +<p> +“My father, let us not talk of this now. We are too weak to bear it, and +the place is so awful!” +</p> + +<p> +By this time the wind had made a huge rent in the black clouds overhead, and +the moon came suddenly in sight, sailing tranquilly in the azure void above, +and casting her beams on the ruins, as she had once cast them on the beauteous +city; its basilicas, palaces, and temples yet standing. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment their guide came hastily to them. +</p> + +<p> +“We are in some danger, father. Horsemen, twelve of them, are galloping +along the Foss Way in spite of the storm.” +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan left the shelter, which was no longer needed, the rain having ceased, +and followed the guide to the summit of the huge mound which marked the fall of +some giant bastion of early days. From that position they could see the Foss +Way, now about half-a-mile distant in the bright moonlight, and Dunstan’s +eye at once caught twelve figures—horsemen—sweeping down it like +the wind, which brought the sound of their passage faintly to the ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait,” he said, “and see whether they pass the bypath; in +that case we are safe.” +</p> + +<p> +The whole party was now on the mound, their persons carefully concealed from +the view of the horsemen, while they watched their passage with intense +anxiety. The enemy reached the bypath; eleven of them passed over it, but the +twelfth reined his horse suddenly, almost upon its haunches, and pointed to the +ground. He had evidently seen the tracks of the fugitives upon the soft turf. +</p> + +<p> +The next moment they all turned their horses into the bypath. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow,” said the guide; and they all rushed eagerly down the +mound and mounted at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow me closely; I think I can save you from them; only lose not a +moment.” +</p> + +<p> +The guide led them by a wandering path amongst the ruins, where their tracks +would leave the least trace, until he passed through a gap in the external +fortifications on the opposite side. Then he rode rapidly along a descending +path in the woods, until the sound of rushing water greeted their ears, and +they arrived on the brink of a small river which was swollen by the violent +rain, and which dashed along an irregular and stony bed with fearful +impetuosity. +</p> + +<p> +There was but one mode of crossing it: a bridge constructed of planks was +thrown over, which one horseman might pass at a time. The whole party rode over +in safety, although the crazy old bridge bent terribly beneath the weight of +each rider. +</p> + +<p> +But when all were over, the guide motioned to Alfred and Oswy to remain behind +for one moment, while the monks proceeded. He threw himself from his horse, and +taking the axe which he had slung behind him, commenced hacking away at the +bridge. But although the bridge was old, yet it was tough; and although Alfred, +and Oswy who was armed with a small battle-axe, assisted with all their might, +the work seemed long. +</p> + +<p> +Before it was completed, they heard the voices of their pursuers calling to +each other amongst the ruins. They had evidently lost the track, and were +separating to find it. +</p> + +<p> +Crash went one huge plank into the raging torrent, then a second, and but one +beam remained, when a horseman emerged from the trees opposite, and by the +light of the moon Alfred recognised his brother. +</p> + +<p> +Desperate in the excitement of the chase, Elfric leapt from his horse, and +drawing his sword rushed upon the bridge. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred, who felt it tremble, cried: +</p> + +<p> +“Back, Elfric! Back if you value your life!” while at the same +moment, true to his duty, without raising his axe or any other attempt at +offence, he opposed his own body in passive resistance to Elfric’s +passage over the beam. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric knew the voice, and drew back in utter amazement. He had already stepped +from the half-severed beam, when he saw it bend, break, and roll, with Alfred, +who had advanced to the middle of the bridge, into the torrent beneath, which +swept both beam and man away with resistless force. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/> +THE RETURN OF ALFRED.</h2> + +<p> +The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn the fate of Alfred of +Æscendune, whom we left in so critical a position. +</p> + +<p> +The fall of the bridge was so sudden and unexpected, that he scarcely knew +where he was, till he found himself sucked rapidly down stream by the raging +waters, when he struck out like a man, and battled for dear life. But the only +result seemed to be that he was bruised and battered against the rocks and +stones, until, exhausted, he was on the point of succumbing to his fate, as the +current bore him into a calm deep pool, where he sank helplessly, his strength +gone. But the guide and his companion Oswy had succeeded in reaching the spot, +which was inaccessible from the other side, and plunging at once into the +waters, the latter succeeded in bringing the dying youth to land. Dunstan and +the other members of the party were soon on the spot; the lay brother was +skilled in the art of restoring suspended animation, and they soon had the +happiness of beholding Alfred return to consciousness; he raised his head, and +gazed about him like one in a dream, not able to realise his position. +</p> + +<p> +“Where am I? What have I been doing?” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“You are safe, my dear son, and in the hands of friends,” replied +Dunstan, “although you have had a narrow, narrow escape; we are secure +for the present from our foes.” +</p> + +<p> +They consulted together in low tones as to their future movements, and the +abbot inquired particularly of the guide concerning the fords and bridges. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a ford only a mile or two away, but I expect they will find +they cannot cross it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no place of refuge near? He is unable to sit his horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is a cottage close by, kept by a cowherd, who is a good and true +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then lead us to it at once,” replied Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred had by this time recognised his position, and he implored Dunstan not to +endanger his own safety for his sake; but the abbot paid no attention. They +reached the cottage just as the day was dawning, and the east was bright with +rosy light. It was such a place as the great king, after whom Alfred was named, +had found refuge in when pressed by the Danes. It was poor, but neat and clean +beyond the usual degree; and when the wants of their early visitors were known, +and Dunstan was recognised, the utmost zeal was displayed in his cause. +</p> + +<p> +All that could be done for Alfred was done at once, but he was manifestly too +shaken and bruised to be able to travel; and, giving him his fatherly blessing, +Dunstan was compelled by the guide to hurry on, leaving him in the care of +Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +They had not, however, great fear of their pursuers, for their own horses were +comparatively fresh after the rest in the ruined city, and those of their foes +would be necessarily fatigued, after the rapid ride along the Foss Way, and +their exertions to pass the stream. +</p> + +<p> +So it was not with great uneasiness, well mounted as they were, that, gaining +the road, they beheld their pursuers in the distance, who, on their part, +beholding their intended victims afar off, hastened to spur their horses on. +</p> + +<p> +It was useless: the pursued had the advantage, and after the gallop of a mile +or two, it became evident they were in no especial danger, although it must be +remembered that a false step or slip, or any accident, would have been fatal. +</p> + +<p> +“I should not mind racing them down the Foss to the Sea Town,” <a +href="#EndNoteB3sym" name="EndNoteB3anc"><sup>xxv</sup></a> said the guide; +“but if the abbot has no objection, I should prefer leaving them to +pursue the road, while we take a cross-country route, which I have often +travelled; it is a very good one.” +</p> + +<p> +“By all means,” said Dunstan, “and then we may slacken this +furious pace.” +</p> + +<p> +They were quite out of sight of their pursuers when, coming upon a track of dry +stony ground, they suddenly left the road, and crossing a wild heath, put a +copse between them and the enemy, who did not this time discover for miles the +absence of the footprints, for the soil was very dry and hard, the storm not +having passed that way, and the foe were intent upon hard riding. +</p> + +<p> +So they gained a long start, and eventually reached a hill, from which they +obtained their first view of the sea. It was eventide, and the western sun, +sinking towards the promontories beyond the distant Exe, reddened the waters +with his glowing light. Dunstan and his brethren thanked God. +</p> + +<p> +“We have come to the setting sun,” said they, “and at +eventide have seen light; let us thank Him Who hath preserved us.” +</p> + +<p> +But the guide, who knew what relentless pursuers were yet behind, would allow +them no rest. In another hour they reached a small fishing village on the +coast, where a solitary bark was kept. The owner was just about to put out for +an evening’s fishing, but at the earnest request of his visitors, backed +by much gold, he consented to take them over to the opposite coast. +</p> + +<p> +“The weather promises to be very clear and fine,” he said; +“and we may sail across without any danger.” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed a lovely night; they stepped on board, the anchor was loosed, the +sail set, and with the wind behind, they stood rapidly out to sea. They were +quite silent, each immersed in his own thoughts. At last they heard the sound +of horsemen galloping on the fast-receding shore, and looking back, they saw +twelve riders reach the beach, and pause, looking wistfully out to sea. +</p> + +<p> +“Our soul is escaped, even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler; the +snare is broken, and we are delivered,” said Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +“Our help standeth in the name of the Lord, Who hath made heaven and +earth,” replied Father Guthlac. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Alfred rapidly gained strength. Happily no bones were broken, he was +only sadly bruised. The next day he expressed his earnest wish to return home, +but his host would not permit him, saying he should have to answer to Dunstan +some day for his guest. +</p> + +<p> +The time passed monotonously enough that second day, yet not unpleasantly: +there were a thousand things to observe in the woods and marshes around, full +of animal life. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the morning, a sweet fresh morning, the cowherd drove his cattle forth +to graze, where he knew the pastures were sweetest, and Alfred would willingly +have gone, too, but they told him he must rest. So he took his breakfast of hot +milk and bread, with oat cakes baked on the hearth, and waited patiently till +the warmth of the day tempted him out, under the care of Oswy, to watch the +distant herd, to drink of the clear spring or recline under some huge spreading +beech, while the breeze made sweet melodies in his ears, and lulled him +pleasantly to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +At midday they returned to the customary dinner, which was not of such inferior +quality as one would now expect to find in such a place, contrasting strongly +with the fare on the tables of the rich: then there was far more equality in +the food of rich and poor, and Alfred had no cause to complain of the +cowherd’s table. +</p> + +<p> +Then he sauntered forth again with Oswy, and strove to amuse himself with the +book of nature; till just at eventide, as he was longing earnestly that he +could know the fate of his fugitive friends, they heard the sound of a horse at +full trot, and soon the guide appeared in sight. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred rose up eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Are they safe?” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, quite safe; they had got a mile out to sea when their pursuers got +to the beach; I saw it all, hidden in a woody hill above.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did they try to follow?” +</p> + +<p> +“They could not, there was no boat: I never saw men in such a +rage.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred felt as if a weight were removed from his heart, then he looked up in +the face of the guide. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you guide us home?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” was the reply; “the holy abbot particularly desired me +to return to his son Alfred, and to take care of him on his journey home; and +if you will have me as your guide, I will warrant you a safe journey to +Æscendune, for we are not worth following.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let us start tomorrow morning,” said Alfred, longing to be +once more in his old father’s presence, and to cheer his mother’s +heart. +</p> + +<p> +They returned together to the cowherd’s cottage, and slept peacefully +that night. Early in the morning they retook the path to the Foss Way, crossing +the stream at a ford higher up. Their horses being well rested and full of +spirit for the journey, they passed Glastonbury, still empty and desolate, in +the middle of the day, and retraced by easy stages the whole of Alfred’s +previous route from home. +</p> + +<p> +After a week’s easy travelling, by the blessing of Providence, they +reached the neighbourhood of Æscendune: it had never looked so lovely, so +home-like to Alfred as then. He felt as if every spot were full of joy, and as +he was recognised by person after person, by his favourite dogs as they bounded +forth, and finally fell into his mother’s arms at the gate of the hall, +he experienced feelings which in these days, when we are all so familiar with +the thought of travel, can seldom be realised. +</p> + +<p> +Then he had to recount his adventures that night, after supper, to an admiring +audience, who listened enraptured to his account of the holiness of Dunstan and +the cruelty of his foes. But it will easily be imagined that he made no +allusion to his rencontre with Elfric; and Oswy, instructed by his young +master, was equally silent. +</p> + +<p> +He had quite made up his mind to persevere in this course: it could do no good +to tell father or mother how grievously Elfric had fallen, and how nearly he +had been the involuntary instrument of his brother’s death. +</p> + +<p> +“God can change his heart,” said Alfred to himself, “and +bring him home like the prodigal son about whom Father Cuthbert talks so +often.” +</p> + +<p> +So he prayed earnestly every day for his brother, and many a supplication on +his behalf arose from the altar of St. Wilfred. Time will show whether they +were lost. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/> +EDWY AND ELGIVA.</h2> + +<p> +Edwy, King of England, and Elgiva, his queen, gave a great feast at their royal +palace in London, a month after the events recorded in our last chapter; and a +numerous company had assembled to do honour to their hospitality. Yet the +company was very different from that which had assembled round the same +hospitable board in the days of King Edred. First, the Churchmen were +conspicuous by their absence; and secondly, all the old grey-headed +counsellors, who had been the pride and ornament of the reigns of Edmund and +Edred, were not seen; for, after the rumour of their marriage had reached Odo, +he had pronounced the sentence of the lesser excommunication upon them, +severing them from the sacraments; and this was felt by the old counsellors of +Edred to be a most serious stigma, yet one which they could not call +undeserved: hence they deserted the court. +</p> + +<p> +In their place were the young and giddy, the headstrong sons of wiser fathers, +the spendthrifts, the young fops of the period, those who went in for a fast +life, to use a modern phrase—who spent the night, if not the day, over +the wine cup, and consumed their substance in riotous living—such were +they who gathered around Edwy the Fair and the yet fairer Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +And truly king and queen more beautiful in person had never sat upon a throne; +and it was difficult to look upon them and feel aught but admiration, save when +one knew all their history, and then pity and sorrow might supply the place of +admiration, at least with the sober minded. +</p> + +<p> +Fish, flesh, and fowl; nought was wanting. The earth the air, and the water, +all yielded their tribute; for was it not the anniversary of the +marriage—the uncanonical marriage, alas!—of the royal pair, if +marriage it had truly been? +</p> + +<p> +Eels of enormous size, fine as the Roman lamprey, pike roasted with puddings in +their bellies, tench and carp stewed; while the sea yielded its skate, its +sturgeon, and its porpoise, which the skill of the cook had so curiously +dressed with fragrant spices that it won him great renown. The very smell, said +a young gourmand, was a dinner in itself; and the wild buck supplied its +haunch, and the boar its head, while fowl of all kinds were handed round on +spits. +</p> + +<p> +The drinking was of like sumptuous character, and Rhenish wine contended with +the wines of sunny France for precedence, as they were passed round in silver +cups and gold-mounted horns; for glass was seldom, if ever, used for such +purposes then. +</p> + +<p> +The floor was strewed with the sweetest summer flowers, and exhaled an odour +balmy as the breath of eastern climes, where the breeze plays with the orange +blossoms. The tapestry was beautifully woven by foreign artists, and +represented the loves of the gods; while there was nothing in keeping with the +olden style throughout the whole apartment. +</p> + +<p> +But one seat was vacant near the king’s throne, and every now and then +Edwy seemed to cast a wistful eye upon it, as if he would fain see its ordinary +occupant there. +</p> + +<p> +The gleemen rose and sang, the harpers harped, but something was wanting; they +brought tears to the eyes of the fair queen by their plaintive songs of hapless +lovers, which had superseded alike the war songs of Athelstane and the monkish +odes of Edred. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Elfric? He promised to be back by our wedding day; why does he +delay, my Edwy?” asked Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +“It is little less than treason to the queen of youth and beauty to be +thus absent, my Elgiva, but remember he has been unwell, and Redwald told me +that for prudential reasons they delayed his return to court.” +</p> + +<p> +“And your brother Edgar—” +</p> + +<p> +“Is somewhere in Mercia: the churlish boy has declined our invitation to +honour our feast with his presence. We do not want his serious face at the +board. I am sure he would preach on the duty of fasting.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has but seldom been our visitor.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; he is afraid, perhaps, to trust his cold heart within the magic of +my Elgiva’s sunshine, lest the ice should be melted.” +</p> + +<p> +These had been asides, while all the company were listening to the gleeman; but +now Edwy threw himself heart and soul into the current conversation, and all +went merry as a marriage peal, until the ceremoniarius—for Edwy loved +formality in some things—threw open the folding doors and announced the +captain of the hus-carles, and Elfric of Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +The whole company rose to receive them, and Elfric in particular received a +warm welcome; but it was at once seen that there was a marked constraint upon +him: his eye was restless and uneasy, and he seemed like one carrying a load at +his breast. +</p> + +<p> +In truth, since that fatal night when, as he believed, he had witnessed the +death of his brother, he had striven in vain to drown care and to banish +remorse: the thought of his aged father deprived of both his sons—the one +by death, the other by desertion—would force its way unbidden to his +mind. Still, he had determined to throw aside reserve in honour of the +occasion, and he made heroic efforts to appear happy and gay. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald was at his ease, as usual in all company, and seemed to cause +prodigious laughter as he told his adventures to the younger folk at the bottom +of the board. Dark and malign as his demeanour usually was, yet he could affect +a light and airy character at times. +</p> + +<p> +“Redwald, my trusty champion,” said Edwy, “this is the first +campaign thou hast ever returned from unsuccessful. Tell us, how did Dunstan +outwit you?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the aid of the devil, my liege.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless; but we had all hoped for a different result, and that thou +wouldst either have left the traitor no eyes in his head, or no head on his +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Said I not rightly, my Elgiva?” +</p> + +<p> +The eyes of the fair enemy of the abbot flashed fire, and she exchanged some +very significant words with her mother, Ethelgiva, who occupied the next chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my fairy-given <a href="#EndNoteB4sym" +name="EndNoteB4anc"><sup>xxvi</sup></a> one, you must not be too hard on +Redwald, who doubtless did his best— +</p> + +<p> +“How was it, Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil was certainly on Dunstan’s side: he and no other could +have betrayed our coming, for betrayed it was.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long had he left when you reached the abbey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only an hour or two; but there was a sound of mocking laughter, +doubtless caused by his incantations, which kept us for some hours forcing +doors and the like.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you could discover no cause?” +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever; however, we found he had taken the Foss Way for the +coast, and followed, and nearly caught him.” +</p> + +<p> +“What prevented you?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric turned pale as if with great mental emotion, and tried to proceed in +vain. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not well,” said Elgiva, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite,” he said; and then, overcoming his feelings by a +vigorous effort, while no one save Redwald suspected the true cause, he +continued: +</p> + +<p> +“There had been a great storm, and they had broken down the only bridge +which existed for miles over a swollen river: we lost hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet, as your messengers told us, you arrived in time to see him +leave the coast.” +</p> + +<p> +“The vessel which bore him was still distinctly in sight when we stood on +the sands.” +</p> + +<p> +“But had you no means of following?” +</p> + +<p> +“None: it was a lonely fishing village with a small harbour, and his bark +was a mere fishing smack, the only one of the place.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust the sea has swallowed him,” said the king; “but +there is a rumour today that he is playing the saint in Flanders with great +pomp. Well, only let him show his face in England again, and the devil may +pinch my nose with his tongs if I leave him a head on his shoulders: he shall +be a sacrifice to your outraged dignity, my Elgiva.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yours, my Edwy.” +</p> + +<p> +Husband and wife were quite agreed on this subject: they had never forgiven +Dunstan in the least degree, and, identifying him with religion, had well-nigh +abjured it altogether. +</p> + +<p> +The ordinary dishes being now removed, the guests all partook lavishly of wine, +and, their heads already heated, yielded entirely to the excitement of the +moment. Toast after toast was drunk to the king: he was compared to Apollo for +his beauty, and Elgiva to Venus, while the old northern mythology was ransacked +also for appellations in honour of the youthful pair. +</p> + +<p> +Adjoining, in the outer hall, the higher domestics had their music and dancing, +and the king and queen came to honour the entertainment by their presence. So +the happy hours wore away, and at length the company were on the eve of +departure, for fatigue was making itself felt, when an ominous blowing of a +horn was heard at the outer gate. +</p> + +<p> +A pause, during which the company looked at each other, so strangely had the +sound struck them, and yet they knew not why, save that it was an unlikely hour +for such an occurrence. +</p> + +<p> +There was one only who knew what the message would probably be —Redwald; +and he had kept the secret purposely from the king. +</p> + +<p> +The doors opened, and an usher brought in a messenger who had only been allowed +a moment to change a dusty dress, ere he broke into the presence of royalty. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak,” said Edwy, as the messenger bowed before him, and kissed +his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord and king—” and the messenger glanced at Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +“Let him speak, Edwy, my lord. Are we not one? What you can bear, your +wife must bear also.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus adjured, the messenger spoke his news. +</p> + +<p> +“Mercia has revolted, and proclaimed Edgar king.” +</p> + +<p> +“The cause alleged?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can tell you,” said Redwald; “the banishment of the holy +fox, Dunstan, and very shame prevents my adding that—” +</p> + +<p> +“No more,” said Edwy; “I can guess the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +He wished to spare Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +He walked up and down the hall several times. His festive air had gone. +</p> + +<p> +“And on my wedding day, too,” he said. “Redwald, you knew +this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my lord, but I wished to spare my king upon his wedding day, still +I have not spared myself. The necessary steps are taken, your immediate vassals +are summoned, and my own men are ready to march; we will sweep these rebels off +the field.” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric,” said the king, “you must be my right hand in the +field: you will be ready to invade your native Mercia tomorrow. Think you your +own friends are firm?” +</p> + +<p> +“My father, although he has disowned me, would never disown his lawful +king; the duty and love he bore to your murdered father would forbid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Redwald, have you known this many hours?” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard it at the frontier town of Mercia, Reading, last night, and took +all my measures immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, can we really depend upon Wessex?” +</p> + +<p> +“I treat so indeed, my lord, else we should be in a very bad way +indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we must rest now. Elgiva, darling, this is a cold termination to +our first anniversary, but your husband’s love shall ever protect you +until he be cold in death. +</p> + +<p> +“Goodnight, Elfric, be ready for the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +“Goodnight, Redwald, trustiest warrior who ever served grateful lord. +</p> + +<p> +“Goodnight, gentlemen all.” +</p> + +<p> +And thus the royal party broke up, and thus ended the first anniversary of the +ill-starred union. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow all was haste and confusion in the royal palace. Elgiva departed +early for Winchester, which, being farther removed from the frontier, was safer +than London from any sudden excursion on the part of the Mercians, and the city +was also devoted to the royal family. The citizens of London were directed to +provide for the defence of their city, while the royal guards, attended by the +immediate vassals of the crown, prepared to march into the heart of the +rebellious district. +</p> + +<p> +It is too often supposed that the feudal system was of Norman importation, +whereas its very foundation—the act of homage, or of “becoming your +man,”—was brought by the Saxons and Angles from their German home. +The lord was the protector of the vassal, but the vassal was bound to attend +his feudal superior both in peace and war. +</p> + +<p> +So imperative was this obligation, that a vassal who abandoned his lord in the +field of battle was liable to the death of a traitor. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore Edwy soon found himself at the head of a compact body of ten thousand +men, all bound to stand by him to death. But there was one very disheartening +circumstance, which attracted notice. No volunteers joined the little army, +although a royal proclamation had promised lands from the territories of the +rebels to each successful combatant in the cause of Edwy and Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +The fear of the Church hung on all, the conviction that the law of both Church +and State had been broken by the young king; the universal belief in the +sanctity of Dunstan, and in the true patriotism of Odo whom they called +“the good;” the thoughtless misgovernment since the wiser +counsellors had dispersed—all these things weakened the hearts of the +followers of Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +There was therefore but little enthusiasm when the inhabitants saw the soldiers +of the king march out by the Watling Street, and the soldiers themselves looked +dispirited. +</p> + +<p> +It was early dawn on the second day from the feast that the departure took +place. Cynewulf, a valiant Earl of Wessex, was the real commander; nominally, +Edwy commanded in person, and Elfric rode out of London by his side. +Redwald’s rank would not have entitled him to the chief command. +</p> + +<p> +Passing through the environs of the city, they gained the open country, and +marched steadily along the causeway the Romans had so firmly laid, until they +reached Verulam or St. Alban’s, where they passed the night. It excited +great discontent amongst the inhabitants that Edwy did not visit the shrine of +the saint, the glory of their town; and his departure again took place amidst +gloomy silence. +</p> + +<p> +They were now about to cross the frontier and enter Mercia, then in many +respects an independent state; governed, it might be, by the same monarch and +Witan as Wessex, even as Scotland and England are governed by the same +sovereign and Parliament, yet retaining like them its own peculiar code of laws +in many respects. +</p> + +<p> +And now Mercia had sternly refused to be governed any longer by the +“enemy of the Church,” and chose the Etheling, Edgar, to be its +king. +</p> + +<p> +Acting with the sanction of Odo, whom he deeply revered, the young Edgar, then +only in his fifteenth year, accepted the offer, and the whole force of Mercia +was gathering to support him when Edwy crossed the border. +</p> + +<p> +It must not be supposed that either Cynewulf or Redwald expected to conquer the +Mercians with ten thousand men. No, their design was simpler: they had learned +where Edgar was residing, and that the forces around him were small. One bold +stroke might secure his person, and then Edwy might make his own terms. This +was the secret of the advice they both gave to the young king. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald had, as we shall see, deep designs of his own to serve also, but they +had been locked for years in his own breast, and no servant could seem more +trusty and faithful than he did, or act with more energy in his master’s +cause. +</p> + +<p> +The forces of Edwy, as we have related, left St. Alban’s on the second +morning, and travelled, horse and foot, very rapidly all that day. +</p> + +<p> +Crossing the Icknield Street at Dunstable, where the remains of a huge temple, +once sacred to Diana, were visible, they entered Mercia, and soon reached +Towcester, a town which had been walled round by King Athelstane; here they +found no force prepared to receive them, and the town opened its gates at once. +</p> + +<p> +They tarried here for a day, while they sent scouts and spies in all +directions, many of whom never returned. The troops were quartered freely upon +the inhabitants, who were evidently very hostile; and, in return, the soldiers +of Edwy insulted the women and bullied the men. Every hour some quarrel arose, +and generally ended in bloodshed; the citizens being commonly the victims. +</p> + +<p> +Late at night messengers arrived at the royal quarters, bringing information +that Edgar was at Alcester, the ancient Alauna, beyond the Avon, and that +Osric, the great Earl of Mercia, was with him collecting troops. +</p> + +<p> +A council was held at once, and it was decided to leave the Watling Street and +to march for the Avon by cross-country routes. They rested that night amidst +the ruins of the ancient Brinavæ, and here another council was held, to +deliberate on their future movements, and it was decided to march westward at +once, for tidings came that Edgar’s forces were rapidly increasing, and +prudence suggested prompt measures. Edwy was becoming very anxious. +</p> + +<p> +The route for the next day was then made out and, with beating heart, Elfric +learned that they purposed crossing the river not far from Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, my friend,” said Edwy, “there will be a chance for +you to visit Æscendune, and to obtain the old man’s forgiveness.” +</p> + +<p> +He said this with a slight sneer. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot go there; I would die first.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy started at the tone of deep feeling with which the words were said; he +knew nothing of the rencontre of Elfric with his brother. +</p> + +<p> +“Still I think that I must spend this coming night there, and I will try +and act the Christian for the occasion: perhaps I may do you a good turn, while +I renew my acquaintance with your people.” +</p> + +<p> +In his very heart Elfric wished that Edwy might never arrive there, yet he knew +not what to say. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the prince, observing his hesitation, “you may +go on with Cynewulf and the main body of the army, which will cross the Avon +higher up, and I will make excuse that your duties detain you. I must +go—I have special reasons, I wish at least to secure the fidelity of the +few—and Redwald will accompany me; we join the army on the morrow, +without losing any time by the move.” +</p> + +<p> +And so the matter was settled. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/> +THE ROYAL GUEST.</h2> + +<p> +It was the morning of the first of August, and the sun, dispersing the early +mists, gave promise of a bright summer day. +</p> + +<p> +The inhabitants of Æscendune, lord and vassals alike, were astir from the +early daybreak; for that day the harvest was to be commenced, and the crops +were heavier than had been known for many a year. A good harvest meant peace +and prosperity in those times, a bad harvest famine, and perhaps rebellion; for +if the home crop failed, commerce did not, as now, supply the deficiency. +</p> + +<p> +So it was with joy and gladness that the people went forth that day to reap +with their sharp sickles in their hands, while the freshness of the early morn +filled each heart insensibly with energy and life. The corn fell on the upland +before their sharp strokes, while behind each reaper the younger labourers +gathered it into sheaves. +</p> + +<p> +Old Ella stood in their midst looking on the familiar scene, while his pious +heart returned many a fervent thanksgiving to the Giver of all good. Under the +shade of some spreading beeches, which bordered the field, the domestics from +the manor house were spreading the banquet for the reapers—mead and ale, +corn puddings prepared in various modes with milk, huge joints of cold roast +beef—for the hour when toil should have sharpened the appetite of the +whole party. +</p> + +<p> +By the side of his father stood young Alfred administering with filial +affection to all his wants, as if he felt constrained to supply a double +service in his own person now that Elfric was no more, or, at least, dead to +home ties. +</p> + +<p> +Thicker and thicker fell the wheat, and they thought surely such heavy sheaves +had never fallen to their lot before. +</p> + +<p> +At last the blowing of a horn summoned all the reapers to their dinner, and +when Father Cuthbert had said grace, the whole party fell to—the thane at +the head of them; and when the desire of eating and drinking was appeased, the +labourers lay on the grass, in the cool shade, to pass away the hour of +noontide heat, before resuming their toil. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” said Alfred, “a horseman is coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“My old eyes are somewhat dim; I do not see any one approaching.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I, as yet, but I hear him; listen, he is just crossing the brook; I +can hear the splashing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some royal messenger, perhaps, from Edgar or from Edwy, my son. I fear +such may be the case; yet I wish I could be left in peace, afar from the strife +which must convulse the land, if the ill-advised brothers cannot agree to +reign—the one over Mercia, the other over Wessex.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have repeatedly said that we should be quite neutral, father.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet, my son, we offend both parties, and, I fear me, we shall be +forced to defend ourselves in the end. But God is our refuge and strength, a +very present help in trouble. And now that I am old I can lean more and more +upon Him. He will be a father to you, my Alfred, when these hoary hairs are +hidden in the grave.” +</p> + +<p> +It was seldom that the old thane expressed his devotion in this strain; it +seemed to Alfred as if there were a foreboding of coming trial in it, and he +felt as when a cloud veils the face of the sun in early spring. +</p> + +<p> +The messenger now came in sight—a tall, resolute looking man, well armed +and well mounted, and evidently bound for the hall. But when he saw the party +beneath the trees he bent his course aside, and saluting the thane with all +deference, inquired if he spoke to Ella of Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +“I am he,” replied Ella. “I trust you are not the bearer of +other than good tidings; but will you first refresh yourself, since it is ill +talking between the full and the fasting?” +</p> + +<p> +“With gladness do I accept your bounty; for I have ridden since early +dawn, and rider and horse are both exhausted.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is corn for your horse, and food and wine for his master. +</p> + +<p> +“Uhred, take charge of the steed. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred, my son, place that best joint of beef before the stranger, and +those wheaten cakes. +</p> + +<p> +“I drink to you, fair sir.” +</p> + +<p> +The messenger seemed in no hurry to open his tale until he had eaten and drunk, +and it was with the greatest patience that the thane, who was one of +nature’s gentlemen, awaited his leisure. +</p> + +<p> +At length the messenger looked up, and pushed his wooden platter aside. +</p> + +<p> +“I have come to be the bearer of good tidings to you, noble thane. Edwy, +your king, with a small troop of horse, his royal retinue, proposes honouring +your roof with his presence, and asks bed and board of his loyal subject, Ella +of Æscendune.” +</p> + +<p> +“The king’s will is my law; and since it pleases the son of my late +beloved master, King Edmund, to visit me, he shall find no lack of hospitality. +But may I ask what sudden event has brought him into the heart of our +country?” +</p> + +<p> +“He comes to chastise rebellion. A large force of several thousand men +crosses the river a few miles higher this evening, and, not to incommode you +with numbers, King Edwy comes apart from his followers.” +</p> + +<p> +Although he foresaw grave inconvenience, and even danger, in the proposal, yet +Ella could not appear churlish and inhospitable; therefore, learning from the +messenger that the king might be expected before sunset, he returned home to +make such preparations as should suggest themselves for the entertainment of +his royal master, for so he still would have styled Edwy, deeply as he felt he +had been wronged by him. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” said Alfred, as he walked homeward by his side, +“think you Elfric will be in his train? I wish he may be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, my son! I fear I shall never see poor Elfric again. My mind always +seems to misgive me when I think of him; and I have so strong a foreboding that +he has received my last blessing, that I cannot overcome it. No, Alfred, I fear +we shall not see Elfric tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +No more was said upon the subject; they reached the hall in good time, and +startled the lady Edith by their tidings. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly all was in preparation: the best casks of wine were broached, fowls +and wild birds alike had cause to lament that their lives were shortened, +chamberlain and cook were busy, clean rushes were brought in to adorn the floor +of the hall, sweet flowers and aromatic grass for that of the royal bedchamber; +and it was not till a flourish of trumpets announced the approach of the +cavalcade that all was ready, and the maidens and men servants, arrayed in +their best holiday attire, stood grouped without the gate to receive their +king. +</p> + +<p> +At last the glitter of the departing ray upon pointed lances announced the +approach, and soon the whole party might be seen—a hundred horse +accompanying the king’s person, and one or two nobles of distinction, +including Redwald, riding by his side. +</p> + +<p> +When the train first reached the spot from which the castle was visible, a +strange thing occurred. The king’s eyes were fixed upon Redwald, and, to +the royal astonishment, the whole frame of that worthy seemed shaken by a +sudden emotion. His countenance became pale, his lips were compressed, and his +eyes seemed to dart fire. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter, my Redwald?” asked the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing, my lord!” said he, resuming his wonted aspect with +difficulty, but at last becoming calm as a lake when the wind has died away. +“Only a sudden spasm.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you are not ill?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my lord; you need not really feel anxious concerning me. +</p> + +<p> +“The hall of Æscendune appears a pleasant place for a summer +residence,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“I have been there before,” said the king. “Spent some weeks +there. Yes; I thought it a great change for the better then, after the musty +odour of sanctity which reigned in the palace of my uncle the monk, but all +things go by comparison. I might not relish a month there now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet it looks like a place formidable for its kind, and it might not be +amiss to persuade the worthy old thane to receive a garrison there, so that if +the worst came to the worst we might have a place of refuge, otherwise the +Mercians would soon have possession of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ella is one of themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the rebel Edgar may not forgive him for entertaining us!” +</p> + +<p> +“He can hardly help himself. Still, the smoke of those fires, which, I +trust, betokens good cheer; and the peaceful aspect of that party coming out to +meet us, in the midst of whom I recognise old Ella and his son Alfred, +Elwy’s brother, does not look much like compulsion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Making the best of a bad bargain, perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“I prefer to think otherwise.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the two parties met, and Edwy at once dismounted from his +courser with that bewitching and kingly grace which became “Edwy the +Fair.” He advanced gracefully to the old thane, and, presenting the +customary mark of homage, embraced him as a son might embrace a +father—“For,” said he, “Elfric has taught me to revere +you as a father even if Æscendune had not taught me before then. I robbed you +of your son, now I offer you two sons, Elfric and myself.” +</p> + +<p> +The tears stood in the old man’s eyes at this reception, and the mention +of his dear prodigal son. +</p> + +<p> +“He is well, I hope?” said he, striving to speak with such +sternness and dignity as sell-respect taught in opposition to natural feeling. +</p> + +<p> +“Well and happy; and I trust you will see him in a day or two, when we +shall have chastised our rebels; justice, mingled with mercy, must first have +its day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he now?” +</p> + +<p> +“With the main body of the army; in fact, he is my right hand. It is my +fault, not his, that he is not here now; but we could not both leave, and he +preferred that I should come and proffer my filial duty first, and perhaps that +I should assure you of his love and duty, however appearances may have seemed +against him.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the eye of Edwy caught Alfred. It must be remembered that Elfric had kept +the secret of his brother’s supposed death, even from the king. +</p> + +<p> +“And of Alfred, too, I have ever been reminded by his brother; your name +has seldom been long absent from our conversation.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred reddened. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust now,” he continued, “that I may profitably renew an +acquaintance suspended for three years. I am but young, only in my eighteenth +year, and I have no father; let me find one in the wisest of the +Mercians.” +</p> + +<p> +So bewitching was the grace of the fair speaker that he seemed to carry all +before him. Ella began to think he must have misjudged the king. Alfred alone, +who knew much more of the relations between the king and the Church than his +father, still suspended his belief in these most gracious words. +</p> + +<p> +Leaning upon the still powerful arm of Ella, his young agile form contrasting +strongly with the powerful build of the old thane —powerful even in +decay—they came in front of the hall, where the serfs and vassals all +received them with joyful acclamations, and amidst the general homage the king +entered the hall. +</p> + +<p> +There he reverentially saluted the lady Edith. +</p> + +<p> +“The mother of my friend, my brother, Elfric, is my mother also,” +said he. +</p> + +<p> +Then he was conducted to his chamber, where the bath was provided for him, and +unguents for anointing himself, after which, accepting the loan of a change of +clothing more suitable than his travelling apparel, he received the visit of +Ella, who came to conduct him to the banquet. +</p> + +<p> +All this while his followers had been received according to their several +degrees; and a board was spread, of necessity, in a barn, for the due feasting +of the soldiers of Edwy and the vassals of Æscendune; while the officers and +the chief tenants of the family met at the royal table in the great hall once +before introduced to our readers. +</p> + +<p> +It boots not to repeat an oft-told tale, to describe the banquet in all its +prodigal luxury, to tell how light the casks in the cellars of Æscendune +seemed afterwards, how empty the larder; suffice it to say that in due course +the banquet was ended, the toasts were drunk, and, with an occasional interlude +in the gleeman’s song and the harper’s wild music, the conversation +was at its height. Wine and wassail unloosed men’s tongues. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald sat near the king, who had introduced him to Ella as a dear friend both +to him and his son—“a very Mentor,” he said, “who, +since the unhappy quarrel into which my counsellors forced me —yes, +forced me—with Dunstan, has done more to keep Elfric and me straight in +our morals than at one time I should have thought possible for any man to do. +</p> + +<p> +“Redwald, you need not blush; it is true, and your king is proud to own +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald was not exactly blushing; he had spent the interval before the banquet +in looking eagerly and wistfully all round the house, and now his countenance +had a cold composure, which made it seem as if he had never known emotion; +still he answered fittingly to the king’s humour: +</p> + +<p> +“Alack, my lord, such credit is due only to the blessed saints, +especially St. Wilfred, whom you first learned to love at Æscendune, as you +have often told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Edwy; “you remember, Ella, how I used to steal +away even from the chase, and visit his chapel at the priory which your worthy +father founded. Truly, I mused upon the saint so much that I marvel he appeared +not to me; I think he did once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” exclaimed his auditors. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I had been musing upon my condition as a poor orphan boy, deprived +of my brave father—he was your friend, Ella!—when methought a +figure in the dress of a very ancient bishop, stood beside me, yet immaterial +as the breeze of evening. ‘Thy prayer is heard’ said he to me; +‘thou hast brought many gifts to St. Wilfred; he shall send thee one, +even a friend.’ It was fulfilled in Elfric.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly, it was marvellous,” said Father Cuthbert, who listened with +open mouth. “I doubt not it was our sainted patron.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred said nothing; his recollections of Edwy’s days at Æscendune did +not embrace many hours in the chapel of St. Wilfred. +</p> + +<p> +The great wonderment of Ella may be conceived: he had always mourned over Edwy +as a headstrong youth, dead to religion, and now he was called upon to +contemplate him in so different a light. The reader may wonder at his +credulity, but if he had listened to the sweet voice of the beautiful king, had +gazed into that innocent-looking face—those eyes which always seemed to +meet the gaze, and never lowered themselves or betrayed their owner—he +would, perhaps, have been deceived too; yet Edwy was overdoing it, and a look +from Redwald warned him of the fact. He took the other line. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” he said, “I have been very very unworthy of St. +Wilfred’s fond interest in me, and may have done very rash things; but +some day the saint may rejoice in me again, and then he shall not find in me a +rebellious son.” +</p> + +<p> +Further than this he was not disposed to go, for in truth he felt himself +sickened by his very success in deceit, although half disposed to be proud of +it at the same time. But Redwald had taken up the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“These halls of yours seem old, venerable thane; has your family long +dwelt under this hospitable roof?” +</p> + +<p> +“My remote ancestor fought by the side of Cynric in the victories which +led to the foundation of Mercia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! many a sad yet glorious tale and legend for the gleeman’s +harp, doubtless, adorns your annals.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not many; we have our traditions.” +</p> + +<p> +“For instance, is there one connected with the foundation of the priory +hard by?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is of recent date, my father built it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Strange, for generally these old places are reared up by repentant +sinners, mourning over the sins they have committed, or the day of grace they +have cast away; is there no tale attached to your foundation?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! there is; but it is one whose stain is all too recent, one we +cannot recount, or suffer gleeman’s harp to set to music, lest we harrow +the yet bleeding wound.” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald could not ask more; the answer was too plain and distinct, and so he +was forced to repress his curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation then became desultory and, finally, when the gleemen began the +well known <i>piece de resistance</i>, the battle of Brunanburgh, Edwy yawned +and Redwald looked sleepy, while the old thane actually slept in his huge +armchair, and was awakened only by the cessation of the music and singing. +</p> + +<p> +Even in the presence of royalty itself Ella did not suffer the company to +disperse before the chaplain had said the customary compline service, after +which the guard was doubled at the door, and soon the whole household was +buried in sweet and peaceful sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, although they knew it not, they nourished the deadliest foe of their race +in the bosom of the family. There was one at least who could not sleep that +night who now paced his narrow chamber, now looked forth at the meadows, woods, +and hills, sleeping in the summer twilight; now, unchecked, burst into the +wildest excitement, and paced his chamber as a wild beast might pace the floor +of his cage; now calmed down into a sarcastic smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” he said in soliloquy, “and here I am at last; here in +the halls which should have been his and mine, and shall be mine yet; here! and +they know it not; here! and the reward of years of patient endurance is at +hand; here! yes, here, in the halls of Æscendune—dreamed of, sighed +after, prayed for at the shrine of such gods as promise vengeance; here, by +Woden and Thor; here by Satan’s help, if there be a Satan!—here! +here! here!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/> +NAKED THOUGH LOCKED IN STEEL.</h2> + +<p> +Early in the morning the whole household was astir, and the breakfast alone +preceded the preparations for the departure of Edwy and his retinue. Redwald +did not appear, and they became uneasy at his prolonged absence, until, sending +to his room, they found him suffering from sudden, but severe illness; which, +as the leech shortly decided, would absolutely prevent his travelling that day. +</p> + +<p> +It was evident that Edwy was annoyed by this, but it was not until after a long +conference with Redwald that he took Ella aside, and pointing out to him the +exposed position of the hall, besought his permission to leave a garrison of +fifty men under the command of this trusty officer, which would ensure their +safety, in case of any sudden attack on the part of Edgar’s troops. +</p> + +<p> +“I can hardly feel that I need such protection, my royal master,” +replied Ella; “I dwell among my own people, and am perhaps safer when +quite unprotected.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case, may I press my own poor claims?” replied the king. +“In case of the worst, I should have Æscendune to fall back upon, a +retreat secured by chosen men behind me, where one might halt and turn to bay; +again, Redwald’s sudden illness necessitates my leaving him to your +hospitality.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus pressed on every side, Ella felt he could but yield to a request which the +speaker had not only the power but the right, as his feudal superior, to +enforce; for Ella was not prepared to throw off his allegiance, as most of his +neighbours had done, and to make common cause with Edgar. Again, the +conversation of the previous night had given him more confidence in Edwy, and +more hope of seeing Elfric again, like the returning prodigal, than he had +previously had. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy saw this, and continued: +</p> + +<p> +“And it is but a few days hence, ere I propose to return with +Elfric—whom I could indeed put in command of such forces as are necessary +to secure you against our mutual foes, when I return southward. Redwald and his +troops will hold the place in trust for Elfric, till he arrives.” +</p> + +<p> +The last lingering feeling of reluctance was now forcibly banished, and Ella +consented to receive Redwald as his guest, with a picked troop of fifty men. +</p> + +<p> +“They shall be the best behaved warriors you have ever seen, my own +hus-carles—men who go to mass every morning, and shrift every +week,” added the deceitful prince; “at least,” he added, as +he saw the look of incredulity Ella could not suppress, “some of them do, +I can’t say how many.” +</p> + +<p> +In the course of an hour from this conversation, the royal party took its +departure, reduced to half its numbers. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy left amidst the regret of all, so amiable had been his manners, so winning +his ways. +</p> + +<p> +“I take a son’s liberty,” said he, as he saluted the +venerable cheek of the lady Edith; “but I will bring your other son back +with me in a few days.” +</p> + +<p> +The road leading over the hill and through the forest had swallowed up the +retreating force, when Ella personally superintended the distribution of +quarters to the guard of Redwald, many of whom afterwards volunteered to follow +him to the harvest field, and displayed uncommon alacrity in carrying the wheat +safely to its granaries, saying the rebels should never have the reaping +thereof. +</p> + +<p> +There was, however, a kind of gloom over the whole party through that day. The +thought that deadly strife impended close at hand weighed upon the spirits of +Ella, but they brightened again at the renewed hope of meeting his prodigal, +and he now hoped repentant, son in peace. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, very different scenes were on the point of being enacted only twice +ten miles from the spot. +</p> + +<p> +The main body of the army left its quarters on the right bank of the Avon, at +the same hour in which Edwy left Æscendune to join them on their march and +they proceeded in safety all through the morning. At midday they lay down to +feed and to rest, and while thus resigning themselves to repose, with the +guards posted carefully around, the sound of cavalry was heard in the distance, +and shortly the royal party appeared. Elfric was alert to receive them, but +could not conceal his surprise when he saw their diminished numbers, and +perceived the absence of Redwald. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy saw his look of embarrassment, and hastened to reply to the question it +conveyed. +</p> + +<p> +“They are left at Æscendune, fifty under the command of Redwald, to +fortify the house until we return. You must go home this time, and you need not +fear, for I have been a very saint at Æscendune, and they are expecting +Dunstan will speedily return and canonise me. Elfric, I have used my sanctity +for your advantage, since I have represented you as sharing it at least in some +degree.” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear me, my father is too wise to be so easily deceived.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing of the kind; he really seemed to believe in it; at all events, I +have promised you shall return with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did they really seem to wish to see me?” +</p> + +<p> +“They did really, especially your brother Alfred.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric started as if an arrow had struck him. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred. Alfred!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, why not Alfred?” +</p> + +<p> +“And you saw him alive and well?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure, why not? Did you think he was dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric became confused, and muttered some incoherent answer, but he rejoiced in +his very heart; he felt as if a mountain were removed from him, and a sweet +longing for home, such as he had not felt since a certain Good Friday, sprang +up in his mind, so strongly that he would have gone then and there, had +circumstances permitted. +</p> + +<p> +Alas, poor boy! his wish was not thus easily to be gratified: he had sinned +very deeply—his penance had yet to be accomplished; well has the poet +written: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“<i>Facilis descensus Averno . . . . Sed retrograre gradum, superasque +evadere ad auras, Hoc opus—hic labor est.</i>” <a +href="#EndNoteB5sym" name="EndNoteB5anc">xxvii</a> +</p> + +<p> +The midday halt concluded, the troops resumed their march for Alcester, where +they hoped to arrive about nightfall, and to surprise Edgar and his few +followers. All that afternoon they proceeded through a dense woodland country; +and the evening was setting in upon them, when suddenly the scouts in front +came galloping back, and gave the startling information that entrenchments were +thrown up across their path, and that a large force was evidently entrenched +behind. +</p> + +<p> +At first Edwy could scarcely believe the report; but Cynewulf, the experienced +commander upon whom, as we have said, the real command of the force devolved, +rode forward, and soon returned, having previously ordered a general halt, and +that entrenchments should be thrown up for their own protection during the +night. +</p> + +<p> +“Ealdorman,” said Edwy, impatiently, “why throw up +entrenchments? can we not carry theirs by storm? we are all ready, are we not, +for a valiant charge?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, my lord, we are but ill prepared,” was the reply, “for +such desperate measures. I am not certain they do not outnumber us; even so, we +probably excel them in discipline and skill, and have every chance of victory +tomorrow, which we should lose by fighting in the dark.” +</p> + +<p> +So Edwy, who did not lack personal courage, and would gladly have ended the +short raid then and there, was forced to be governed by wiser heads, and +accordingly the bivouacs were made, the fires lighted, and the royal tent +pitched upon the slope of a gentle valley, which descended to a brook in the +bottom, where the ground rose similarly on the other side, and was crowned by +the hostile entrenchment, behind which rose the smoke of the enemy’s +fires. The heads of numerous soldiers, seen over the mound, showed how well +they were prepared. +</p> + +<p> +The entrenchment was dug, the mound thrown up, the sentinels posted, and all in +so short a space of time that to the uninitiated in the art of war, it would +have seemed little short of miraculous; but the discipline of the Danes, who +owed their success generally to the skill with which they fortified their +camps, had been partially inherited by their adversaries, and the hus-carles +were not even all English: there were many Danes amongst them. +</p> + +<p> +The suppers were soon cooked and eaten, the wine circulated freely, and +patriotic songs began to be heard: but there was one who seemed to have no +heart for them—Elfric. At the huge fire, which blazed near the royal +tent, Edwy sat as master of the feast, and he was in a state of boisterous +merriment. But all Elfric’s efforts could not hide the depression of his +spirits, and Edwy, who loved him sincerely—for the reader has seen that +he was quite capable of love—tried to rouse him from it, anxious that no +one should suspect the courage of his favourite. +</p> + +<p> +Once or twice Elfric seemed to make great efforts to overcome this feeling of +depression, and partially succeeded in veiling it from all but the observant +young king. +</p> + +<p> +At last the feast was over. +</p> + +<p> +“My friends,” said the king, “we must be stirring early in +the morning, so we will now disperse for the night.” +</p> + +<p> +They drank a parting cup, then separated, while the king took Elfric’s +arm and led him aside. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric,” said he, “did I not know my friend and most +faithful follower, I should suspect that he feared the morrow’s +conflict.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot help it,” said Elfric; “perhaps I do fear it, yet, +had I but my father’s forgiveness, could I but see him once more, I could +laugh at the danger. It is not pain or death I fear, but I long to be where you +have been, I would I had gone with you now.” +</p> + +<p> +“So do I.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now I have my forebodings that I shall never hear my father’s +forgiveness; and, Edwy, if I die without it, I believe my spirit cannot rest; I +shall haunt the spot till the day of doom.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is all moonshine, Elfric. You have not been such a bad fellow after +all; if you go wrong, what will happen to the greater part of those amongst us +who may die tomorrow? When you once get into the fight, and your blood gets +warm, you will be all right; it is only the first battle that gives one all +these fancies.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; it is not that. I am of a race of warriors, and I do not suppose one +of that race ever felt like this in his first battle. I have often looked +forward to mine with joy, but now my mind is full of gloomy forebodings: I feel +as if some terrible danger, not that of the fight, were hanging over me and +mine, and as if I should never meet those I did love once, either in this world +or the next.” +</p> + +<p> +“The next! all we know about that comes from the priestly pratings. I +think, of the two heavens, Valhalla,<a href="#EndNoteB6sym" +name="EndNoteB6anc"><sup>xxviii</sup></a> with its hunting or fighting by day, +its feasting by night, would suit me best. I don’t know why we should +think ourselves wiser than our ancestors; they were most likely right about the +matter, if there be another world at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot disbelieve, if you can,” replied poor Elfric, “I +have tried to, but I can’t. Well, I daresay I shall know all about it by +this time tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pshaw! let tomorrow take care of itself; ’tis our first fight, +Elfric, and we will have no cowardly forebodings; we shall live to laugh at +them all. What shall we do with Edgar, if we get him tomorrow? I suppose one +must not shed a brother’s blood, even if he be a rebel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not; no, no.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it will be shed for me, and a lucky thrust with sword or lance +may end all our trouble, and leave me sole king; but won’t the holy fox +Dunstan grieve if his pet, his favourite, gets hurt? Come, cheer up, Elfric, my +boy; dismiss dull care, and be yourself again!” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric tried very hard to do so, and again partly succeeded. They had extended +their walk all round the limits of the camp. It was a beautiful starlit night: +there was a new moon, which was just going down, and an uncertain light hung +about the field which was to be the scene of the conflict. It was one of those +bright nights when the very aspect of nature suggests thoughts of the Eternal +and the Infinite; when the most untutored being, gazing up into the deep blue +void, finds his mind struggle vainly to grasp the hidden secrets those depths +conceal; when the soul seems to claim her birthright, and dreams of an +existence boundless, illimitable, as the starry wastes around. Such were, +perhaps, the ideas which animated the philosophers of the old heathen world +when they placed their departed heroes amongst the constellations; such, +perhaps, the thoughts which led the dying apostate Julian to bid his followers +weep no more for a prince about to be numbered with the stars. +</p> + +<p> +Thoughts of peace would those radiant orbs have spoken, under any other +circumstances, to the ardent youth as he gazed upon them; but now they +oppressed him with the consciousness that he was at enmity with the mighty +Unknown, that he was in danger, such danger as he could not comprehend; not +that which comes from the lance point or the sword blade, but danger which +fills the soul with the consciousness of its existence, yet is impalpable, not +having revealed itself, only its presence. +</p> + +<p> +“Goodnight, Elfric,” said Edwy, as they reached the camp on their +return; “goodnight. I hope you will be in better spirits in the +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy retired within the folds which concealed the entrance to his own tent. +Close by was the tent appointed for Elfric, who acted as his page; and the +latter entered also, and sat down on a camp stool. +</p> + +<p> +His bed did not seem to invite him; he sat on the seat, his face buried in his +hands; then he suddenly rose, threw himself on his knees, only for a moment, +rose up again: +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t, I can’t pray; if my fate be death, then come death +and welcome the worst. There will at least be nothing hidden then, nothing +behind the scenes. I will not be a coward.” +</p> + +<p> +The phrase was not yet written—“Conscience makes cowards of us +all;” yet how true the principle then as now—true before +Troy’s renown had birth, true in these days of modern civilisation. +</p> + +<p> +He could not sleep peacefully, although he laid himself down; his hands moved +in the air, as if to drive off some unseen enemy, as if the danger whose +presence was impalpable to the waking mind revealed itself in sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no” he muttered; “let the blow fall on me, on me, on me +alone!” then he rose as if he would defend some third person from the +attack of an enemy, and the word “Father” once or twice escaped his +lips; yet he was only dreaming. +</p> + +<p> +“Father!” again he cried, in the accents of warning, as if some +imminent danger menaced the loved one. +</p> + +<p> +He awoke, stared about, hardly recognising where he was. +</p> + +<p> +“What can I have been dreaming about?” he cried; “what can it +all mean? I thought I was at Æscendune;” and he strove vainly to recall +the scenes of his dream. +</p> + +<p> +The tread of the passing guard was the only sound which broke the stillness of +the camp. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot sleep,” said Elfric, and walked forth. +</p> + +<p> +The night was waning, and in the east a red glow was creeping upwards; the +stars were, however, still brilliant. Opposite, at the distance of less than a +mile, the reflection of the camp fires, now low, revealed the presence of the +enemy; before him the mist slowly arose in white thin smoke-like wreaths, from +the grass whereon many should soon sleep their last sleep, now in +unconsciousness of their fate. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder where I shall lie?” thought Elfric, as if it were certain +he would fall. +</p> + +<p> +He felt cooler now, as the hour drew near; he watched the red light creeping +upward, and saw the light clouds above catch the glow, until the birds began +their songs, the glorious orb arose to gild the coming strife, and the shrill +trumpet in the camp was answered by the distant notes in the camp of the foe, +like an echo afar off. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br/> +THE SLEEP OF PEACE.</h2> + +<p> +The first day after the departure of the king from Æscendune passed rapidly +away. The soldiers who had remained behind with Redwald were quiet and orderly +in their demeanour, and even, in obedience to secret orders, attended the +evensong at the minster church, as if moved thereto by devotion, although the +curious spectator might easily discover the unaccustomed character of their +service, by the difficulty with which they followed the prayers, and the uneasy +impatience with which they listened to a lengthened exposition of a portion of +the Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels from Father Cuthbert. +</p> + +<p> +The old thane and all his family were very anxious, it may be readily believed, +for the earliest news from the field of battle, for battle every one agreed was +impending; and, to gratify their natural curiosity. Redwald sent out quick and +alert members of his troop, to act as messengers, and bear speedy news from the +scene of action. +</p> + +<p> +The night set in clear and bright, as we have already seen; and while poor +Elfric was wandering about uneasily beneath that brilliant sky, the same stars +looked down peacefully upon his home, where all slept sweetly under the +fostering care, as they would have said, of their guardian angels. +</p> + +<p> +The morn broke brightly, and with every promise of a fine harvest day. The +labourers were speedily again in the fields; the cattle wandered under the +herdsman’s care to their distant pastures; the subdued tinkling of the +sheep bells met the ear, and the other subdued sounds which soothe the air on a +summer’s day; and so the hours fled by, and no one would have dreamed +that, not twenty miles away, man met man in the fierce and deadly struggle of +war. +</p> + +<p> +When the reapers assembled for their midday meal, they discussed the merits of +the quarrel, and nearly all those who had been brought under the eye of +“Edwy the Fair” were eager in pleading his cause, and trying to +find some extenuation of his misdeeds in the matter of the illegal marriage, +for such it was, from the mildest point of view; and scarcely a voice was +raised on the opposite side, until Ella drew near the scene of conversation, +and observed that “while God forbid they should judge the matter harshly, +yet law was law, and right was right, and a beautiful face or winsome look +could not change it.” +</p> + +<p> +Strolling near the field, seemingly absorbed in thought, walked Redwald, and +seeing the reapers, he came towards them. +</p> + +<p> +“A picture of peaceful enjoyment,” he quietly said. “How +often have I wished I could but lay down sword and lance to take more innocent +weapons in hand, and to spend my declining days ’mid scenes like +these.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said Ella. “It is generally thought that men whose +trade is war love their calling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; sometimes the fierce din of battle seems a pastime fit for the +gods, but the banquet is apt to cloy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you followed your profession for many years?” +</p> + +<p> +“Since I was a mere child; even my boyhood was passed amid the din of +arms.” +</p> + +<p> +There were very few professional soldiers in that day, and they were much +dreaded. An Englishman was always ready to take up arms when lawfully called by +his feudal superior, or when home or civil rights were in danger, but he +generally laid them down and returned to his fields with joy; hence the rustics +looked upon a man like Redwald with much undisguised curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“Think you we shall soon hear from the contending parties?” asked +Alfred, who was, as usual, in attendance upon his father. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps by nightfall; one of my men has just returned to tell me that +the king’s progress was stopped by an entrenched camp of the rebels, and +that they expected to fight at early dawn.” +</p> + +<p> +The news was unexpected, and every one felt his heart beat more quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a messenger already on the spot, and so soon as the royal forces +have gained the victory he will speed hither as fast as four legs can bring +him; we shall probably hear by eventide.” +</p> + +<p> +It is needless to say how every one panted for the decisive news. Ella and +Alfred soon returned to the castle, and Redwald took his horse, and rode out, +as he said, to meet the messenger. +</p> + +<p> +The hours seemed to pass more slowly; the sun drew near the west, the shadows +lengthened; and Ella, with the lady Edith, Alfred, Edgitha, and all the members +of the little society, could hardly bend their minds to any occupation, mental +or physical. Elfric was ever in their thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“O Ella!” said his wife, “this suspense is very hard to bear; +I long to hear about our boy.” +</p> + +<p> +The mother’s heart was bound up in him, as if there were no other life in +danger that day; Edwy or Edgar, it was little to her in comparison with her +longing for her first-born son. +</p> + +<p> +“He is in God’s Hands, dearest!” returned her husband; +“and in better Hands than ours.” +</p> + +<p> +Well might the thoughts of the lady Edith be concentrated on the crisis before +her. She had borne, with a mother’s wounded heart, the separation of +three years, and now it was a question of a few short hours whether she should +ever see him again or not. Now fancy painted him wounded, nay dying, on the +bloodstained field; now it impelled her to sally forth towards the scene, as +though her feeble strength could bear her to him. Now she sought the chapel, +and found refuge in prayer. She had found refuge many many hours of that +eventful day, but especially since Redwald had borne the news of the imminent +battle. +</p> + +<p> +At length the long suspense was ended. Redwald was seen riding at full speed +towards the castle, followed by the long-expected messenger. +</p> + +<p> +“Victory! victory!” he cried; “the rebels are defeated; the +king shall enjoy his own.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Elfric, my son! my son!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is safe: and will be here in a day or two, perhaps tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God!” and the overcharged heart found relief in +tears—happy tears of joy. +</p> + +<p> +The messenger who followed Redwald brought detailed accounts of the event. +According to his statements it appeared that the king had broken through the +hostile entrenchment, and had scattered their forces in the first attack. The +messenger particularly asserted that he had seen Elfric, and had been charged +with the fondest messages for home, where the youth hoped to be in a few days +at the latest, seeing there was no longer an enemy to fear. +</p> + +<p> +The hearts of all present were filled with thankfulness and joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my beloved Edith,” said the old thane. “Let us go +first to thank God;” and they went together to the chapel which had +witnessed so many earnest prayers that day—now, they believed, so fully +answered. +</p> + +<p> +All gloom and despondency seemed removed, and Ella went forth to walk alone in +the woods, to meditate in silence on the goodness of God. Nearly each evening +this had been his habit. The woods, he said, were God’s first temples, +and when alone he best raised his heart from nature to nature’s God. +</p> + +<p> +His thoughts were happy that evening: his first-born boy would be restored to +him, and, like the father in the Gospels, he longed to embrace the prodigal, +and to tell him that all was forgiven. But he schooled himself to patience, and +many a fervent thanksgiving did he offer as he wandered amidst the grassy +glades. +</p> + +<p> +But he was more weary than usual with the toil and anxiety of the day, and +shortly seated himself upon a mossy bank beneath an aged oak. The trees grew +thickly behind and before him, on each side of the glade, which terminated at +no great distance in the heart of the pathless forest, so that no occasional +wayfarer would be likely to pass that way. +</p> + +<p> +There he reposed, until a gentle slumber stole over him and buried all his +senses in oblivion. +</p> + +<p> +The day was nearly spent, the light clouds which still reflected the +sun’s ruddy glow were fast fading into a grey neutral tint, and darkness +was approaching. Once a timid deer passed along the glade, and started as it +beheld the sleeping form, then went on, but started yet more violently as it +passed a thicket on the opposite side. The night breeze had arisen and was +blowing freshly; but still the old man slept on, as though he slept that sleep +from which none shall awaken until the archangel’s trump. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile they grew uneasy at the hall over his prolonged absence, and at +length Alfred started to find his father, beginning to fear that the excitement +of the day had been too great for him, and that he might need assistance. He +knew the favourite glade wherein the aged thane was wont to walk, and the mossy +bank whereon he frequently reposed, so he lost no time, but bent his steps +directly for the spot. +</p> + +<p> +As he drew near, he saw his father lying on the bank beneath the oak as still +in sound sleep, and marvelled that the chilly air of the evening had not awoke +him. He was not wont to sleep thus soundly. He approached closely, but his +steps did not arouse the sleeper. He now bent over him, and put his hand on his +shoulder affectionately and lovingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Father, awake,” he said; “the night is coming on; you will +take cold.” +</p> + +<p> +But there was no answering voice, and the sleeper stirred not. Alfred became +seriously alarmed, but his alarm changed suddenly into dread certainty. The +feathered shaft of an arrow met his eye, dimly seen in the darkness, as it +stuck in the left side of the sleeping Ella. Sleeping, indeed. But the sleep +was eternal. +</p> + +<p> +Horrified at the sight, refusing to believe his eyes, the son first continued +his vain attempts to awake his sire, then fell on his knees, and wrung his +hands while he cried piteously, “O father, speak to me!” as if he +could not accept the fact that those lips would never salute him more. The +moonbeams fell on that calm face, calm as if in sleep, without a spasm of pain, +without the contraction of a line of the countenance. The weapon had pierced +through the heart; death had been instantaneous, and the sleeper had passed +from the sleep of this earth to that which is sweetly called “sleep in +the Lord,” without a struggle or a pang. +</p> + +<p> +His heart full of joy and thanksgiving, he had gone to carry his tribute of +praise to the very throne of God. +</p> + +<p> +When the first paroxysm of pain and grief was over, the necessity of summoning +some further aid, of bearing the sad news to his home, pressed itself upon the +mind of Alfred, and he took his homeward road alone, as if he hardly knew what +he was doing, but simply obeyed instinct. Arrived there, he could not tell his +mother or sister; he only sought the chamberlain and the steward, and begged +them to come forth with him, and said something had happened to his father. +They went forth. +</p> + +<p> +“We must carry something to bear him home,” he said, and they took +a framework of wood upon which they threw some bearskins. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred did not speak during the whole way, save that in answer to the anxious +inquiries of his companions he replied, “You will see!” and they +could but infer the worst from his manner, without giving him the pain of +telling the fatal truth. +</p> + +<p> +At length they reached the glade where the dead body lay. The moon was bright, +and in her light they saw the fatal truth at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, my master! alas, my dear lord! Who has done this? Who could have +done it?” was their cry. “Was there one who did not love and revere +him?” +</p> + +<p> +More demonstrative than Alfred had been were they in their lamentations, for +the deepest grief is often the most silent. +</p> + +<p> +At length they raised the body, the temple of so pure and holy a spirit, which +had now returned to the God Who gave it, reverently as men would have handled +the relics of some martyr saint, and placed it on the bier which they had +prepared. Then they began their homeward route, and ere a long time had passed +they stood before the great gate of the castle with their burden. +</p> + +<p> +It now became a necessity for Alfred to announce the sad news to his widowed +mother; and here the power of language fails us—the shock was so sudden, +so unexpected. The half of her life was so suddenly torn from the bereaved one, +that the pang was well-nigh insupportable. But God tempers the wind to the +shorn lamb, and has promised that the strength of His beloved ones shall be +even as their day. So He strengthened the sensitive frame to bear a shock which +otherwise might have slain it. +</p> + +<p> +The sounds of lamentation and woe were heard all over the castle as they slowly +bore the body to the domestic chapel, while some drew near, impelled by an +irresistible desire to gaze upon it, and then cried aloud in excess of woe. +Amongst the others, Redwald approached, and gazed fixedly upon the corpse; and +Eric the steward often declared, in later days, that he saw the wound bleed +afresh under the glance of the ruthless warrior, but perhaps this was an +afterthought. +</p> + +<p> +Father Cuthbert, who had now been elected prior of the monastic house below, on +the banks of the river, soon heard the sad news, and hastened up to tender the +sweet consolations of religion—the only solace at such a time, for it is +in seasons of suffering that we best comprehend the Cross. +</p> + +<p> +When he entered he saw the corpse in the chapel, where they had placed it +before the altar, and he could only say, “Alas, my lord! alas, my dear +friend!” until he knelt down to pray, and rose up somewhat calmed. +</p> + +<p> +Then he sought the chamber where the lady Edith hid her woe, and there he +showed her that God was love, hard though it was sometimes for the frail flesh +to see it; and he bade her look to the Divine Sufferer of Whom it is said, +“In all their afflictions He was afflicted;” and so by his gentle +ministrations he brought calm to the troubled breast, and it seemed as if one +had said to the waves of grief, “Peace, be still.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he gathered the household to prayer, and while they prayed many a +“<i>Requiescat</i>” for the faithful soul, as they said the dirge +commending to the Fathers Hands a sheep of His fold, so they also prayed for +strength to see the love which was hidden behind all this sad, sad visitation, +and to know the meaning of the words “Though He slay me, yet will I trust +in Him.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he bade them rest—those, at least, who were able to do +so—while he watched by the body, as was then the custom, all through the +deep night. +</p> + +<p> +And so the stars which had looked down from heaven so peacefully upon the house +of Æscendune the night before, of which we wrote, now looked down as coldly +bright as if no change had occurred, shining alike upon weal or woe, upon crime +or holy deed of saint. Yet as the kneeling friar saw them through the chapel +window, he thought they were but the golden lights which lay about the confines +of that happy region where the faithful live in unspeakable felicity for ever +with their Lord, and he found consolation in the thought of the Eternal and the +Infinite. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/> +THE BATTLE.</h2> + +<p> +The early morn, as we have already seen, broke upon the adverse hosts of Edwy +and Edgar as the trumpet sounded to arouse them from their slumbers, in many +instances from the last slumber they should ever enjoy. +</p> + +<p> +Every soldier was on his legs in a moment, and, in the first place, +preparations were made for breakfast: for it was a recognised fact amongst our +ancestors that if you wanted a man to fight or do anything else well, you must +feed him well first. So the care of the body was never neglected, however +pressing the danger. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, Edwy called Elfric to sit by his side at the substantial meal +which commenced the day, and saw, with much pleasure, that the cloud had partly +passed from his friend’s brow for the hope of immediate action, of the +excitement of battle, had done much to drive lowness and depression from the +young warrior. So he strove to chat and laugh with the loudest, and when the +moment came to marshal the host, and to put them in array, his spirits were as +high as in old times. +</p> + +<p> +The cavalry, which was their strongest arm, was under the command of Edwy +himself, although a sturdy warrior, who had fought in many a battle, rode on +his right hand to supply his lack of experience. +</p> + +<p> +The main body of the infantry was under the command of Earl Cynewulf, while the +reserve was under the command of Redwald’s immediate subordinate, and +consisted almost exclusively of the household guard. +</p> + +<p> +The plan of attack, for it was quite decided that they should take the +initiative, was simple, and in accordance with the ordinary tactics of the +times. The heavy-armed foot were bidden first to advance upon the entrenchments +which crowned the opposite hill, and to break the infantry of the enemy, which +was drawn up before them in formidable array; this done, the horse were +immediately to avail themselves of the opening thus made, and the entrenchments +to be assaulted by both cavalry and infantry. +</p> + +<p> +Armed with huge axes, clad in mail, and bearing large shields, the foot +advanced to the attack. They were a gallant company; and as the sun shone upon +their glittering armour, or was reflected back from the bright steel of their +axes, they might well inspire faint hearts with terror; but faint hearts were +not amongst those opposed to them. The chosen men of the northwest, some of +half-British blood, crowned the opposite hill, drawn up in front of their +entrenchments, as if they scorned any other defence than that supplied by their +living valour. They had borrowed their tactics from the Danes: deep and strong +on all sides, they seemed to oppose an impenetrable wall to the foe; they had +their shields to oppose to darts or arrows, their axes for the footmen, their +spears to form a hedge of steel no horse could surmount. +</p> + +<p> +Even should they yield to the pressure, still all would not be lost; their +retreat was secured into the entrenchments, and there they might well hope to +detain the enemy until the whole population should rise against the men of +Wessex and their leader, and his cause become hopeless. +</p> + +<p> +Steadily up the hill came the brave troops of Edwy, and from within their +ranks, as they ascended the slope, a shower of arrows was discharged by the +archers who accompanied them, under their protection; but no return was yet +made by the foe, until they were close at hand, when a loud war cry burst from +the hostile ranks, and a perfect shower of darts and arrows rained upon the +invaders. +</p> + +<p> +Still they persevered, although they left a living, struggling line on the +bloody grass behind them—persevered, like men longing for the close +hand-to-hand encounter, longing to grasp their foes in deadly grip. The shock +arrived; and axe and sword were busy in reaping the harvest of death. So great +was the physical strength of the combatants that arms and legs were mown off by +a stroke, and men were cloven in two, from the crown downwards, by the sweeping +blows of the deadly steel. +</p> + +<p> +It was a fearful struggle, but it was a short one; the line was unshaken in its +strength; in vain Edwy’s archers behind shot their arrows so as to curve +over the heads of their brethren and fall amongst the foe; the men of Wessex +recoiled and gave way. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy seized what he thought the auspicious moment when the ranks of the foe, +although unbroken, were yet weary and breathless, and ordered his cavalry to +charge. The Mercians beheld the coming storm at a distance; down on their knees +went the first line, their spears resting on the ground; behind them the second +bent over to strike with their axes; while a third rank, the archers, drew +their bows, and prepared to welcome the rushing enemy with a discharge of +deadly arrows. +</p> + +<p> +Every heart beat quickly as the fatal moment came near; onward, with a sound +like thunder, galloped the horse of Edwy. He himself rode at their head, clad +in light armour, and by his side Elfric. All trace of fear was gone now in the +mad excitement of the charge; before them they saw the wail of spear points; +nearer and nearer their coursers bounded, until they seemed to fly. Every rider +leant forward, that his sword might smite as far as possible; and, daring the +points, trusting perhaps to the breastplates of their horses and their own +ready blades, they rushed madly upon the foe. +</p> + +<p> +In cold blood no one could, perhaps, have ridden fearlessly against such an +obstacle; but in the excitement of the moment the warriors of Edwy seemed +capable of charging any imaginable barrier: and it became almost a pure +calculation, not of the respective bravery of the troops, for none were cowards +on either side, but of mere physical laws of force and resistance. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric scarcely looked where he was going. He saw a shining lance point, about +to impale him, he diverted it by his sword blade, as he was hurried into the +midst of axes, swords, lances, and beheld the warrior opposite to him in the +second rank raise his axe to inflict a fearful blow, which would have severed +his horse’s neck, had not an arrow transfixed the foe. +</p> + +<p> +The wedge seemed partly broken, and the king had begun to exult in the +anticipation of speedy victory, when from behind each end of the entrenchment +rushed two bodies of hostile cavalry; they fell upon Edwy’s forces in the +rear, and in a few moments all was confusion. +</p> + +<p> +The warriors of Edgar rallied, drove the horse out of their lines, advanced +slowly, and the horsemen of the rival brothers, mingled together in deadly +strife, in personal combat, where each man seemed to have sought and found his +individual foe. +</p> + +<p> +They moved slowly down the bill towards the brook, man after man falling and +dotting the green sward of the hill with struggling, writhing bodies. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Cynewulf was attempting to rally the flying foot, which had been cut +almost in two by the charge of the Mercian cavalry: he succeeded, with great +difficulty, in doing so at the brook which ran along the bottom of the valley, +and, with the stream in their front, they prepared to afford a refuge to their +own, and to resist the hostile horse. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy saw the opportunity, and, raising himself in his stirrups, called upon his +friends to follow him: he leapt the brook, and galloped round behind the foot, +where nearly all the unwounded horsemen followed him. He had fought well, had +slain more than one foe with his own royal hand, as became a descendant of +Cerdic, and now he but retired to organise another and stouter resistance to +the daring foe. +</p> + +<p> +But he was forced to admit now that Cynewulf was right in his conjecture, and +that they were utterly outnumbered, for the foe poured forth from their +entrenchment and advanced in good order down the slope; while the Mercian +cavalry, forming in two detachments to the left and right, crossed the brook +and charged along its banks upon the flanks of the Wessex infantry, at the same +moment. +</p> + +<p> +The warrior upon whose advice Edwy had been told to depend had fallen: he was +left to his own resources. Alas! he forgot he was a commander, and, waving his +plumed cap as a signal for his brother knights to follow, charged upon the +horsemen who were advancing up stream at like speed, forgetting that a similar +body was advancing in the opposite direction, and that as all his force were +following his lead, the opposite flank of the foot was unprotected. +</p> + +<p> +In a single minute they were all engaged in the fiercest melee which +imagination can well paint, fighting as furiously as men of the same blood only +seem to fight when once the claims of kindred are cast aside. Swords ascended +and descended with deadly violence; horses raised themselves up on their hind +legs, and, catching the deadly enthusiasm, seemed to engage their fellows; +riders fell, sternly repressing the groan which pain would extort, while their +steeds, less self controlled, uttered, when wounded, those ear-piercing cries +only heard from the animals in deadly terror or pain. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of this tumult Elfric engaged a Mercian of superior size and +strength; it was his second personal encounter; in his first, he had seen his +adversary fall with a warrior’s stern joy, but now he was overmatched; +borne down by an arm twice as strong as his own, his guard was broken down, and +a deadly blow laid open his shoulder, cutting the veins in the neck of his +horse at the same fell sweep. The animal, blinded with blood, staggered, fell, +and he was down amongst the horses’ feet, confined by one leg, for his +horse rolled partly upon him in its dying struggles; while he felt the hoofs of +other chargers in close proximity to his heed. +</p> + +<p> +A loud cry, “They fly! They fly! Victory! Victory!” reached him +even then. He well knew from which party the cries must proceed, and that he +was left to the mercy of the victorious Mercians. +</p> + +<p> +It was even so; the charge of the hostile cavalry on the left flank had broken +down the ranks of the infantry on that side; the hostile foot had contrived to +cross the brook in the confusion, and all was lost. +</p> + +<p> +The reserve now came rapidly forward, but, seeing at a glance the state of +things, retired to defend the entrenched camp, so as to give the king and his +broken and routed followers time to escape, while they made good the defence +with their lives. So they retired at once into the camp, whither Edwy and his +few surviving companions galloped a moment after them. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy was unhurt; he dismounted: his fair face flushed to a fiery red with heat +and excitement, he leapt on the entrenchment and looked on the plain. He saw +those of his own followers who had not yet made good their escape, ridden down, +cut to pieces, slaughtered in the excitement of the moment without mercy; the +sight stung him, be would have sallied out to their defence, but Cynewulf, who +was yet living, met him in the gateway, and sternly seized the bridle of his +steed. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord and king,” he said; “your life is precious to +Wessex, you may not throw it away.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot see my followers slaughtered: loose my bridle, I command +you;” and he raised his sword impetuously. +</p> + +<p> +“You may cut me down, and so reward my faithful service; but, living, you +shall not pass me on your road to destruction. My lord, I am old enough to be +your father.” +</p> + +<p> +But there was one gay young noble present, who knew better than Cynewulf the +key to Edwy’s heart. He was one of the boon companions we have been +before introduced to; but he had fought, poor young fellow, gallantly all that +day, and now he could fight no longer: Edwy saw him reel and fall from his +horse. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfgar!” he said; as he strove to raise his friend and subject +from the ground—“not seriously wounded I hope!” +</p> + +<p> +“Dying, and for my king, as is my duty let a dying voice reach you, my +dear lord. Save yourself if you would save Elgiva, if you —if +you—” the words came broken and faint “—are slain, she +will be at the mercy of her deadly foes.” +</p> + +<p> +His head fell helplessly down upon his shoulder, and ere the king could make +any reply, he saw that he was indeed past hope. +</p> + +<p> +But his dying words had sunk deeply into the heart of Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Elfgar! he was right. O Elgiva! Elgiva! this is a sad day for +thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Return then to her, my lord,” said Cynewulf. “See, they are +preparing now to assault the camp; I can hold it for hours, and if you are not +here, I can make good terms with our foes; but, if you stay, you but embarrass +us: ride out, my liege.” +</p> + +<p> +“And desert my subjects?” +</p> + +<p> +“They will all acquit you: haste, my lord, haste, before they surround +the camp, for your fair queen’s sake, or you are lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my men, we must fly,” said Edwy, sullenly; and he led the +way reluctantly to the back of the camp. +</p> + +<p> +The road was partly encumbered with fugitives, but not wholly, as most of them +sought the entrenched camp. Cynewulf accompanied him to the gate, where he +stopped to give one last piece of advice. +</p> + +<p> +“Fly, my lord, for Wessex at once; lose no time; the best route will be +the Foss Way; they will not suspect that you have taken that direction. Ride +day and night; if you delay anywhere you are lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell, faithful and wise counsellor. Odin and Thor send that we may +meet again;” and Edwy with only a dozen followers rode out at full speed. +</p> + +<p> +The Mercians had not yet reached that side of the camp, which was concealed by +woods which were clear of all enemies, and he rode on rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +“What has become of Elfric, my Leofric?” he said to one of his +faithful train. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear me he is dead: I saw him fall in the last struggle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Elfric! poor Elfric! then his forebodings have come true; he will +never see his father again.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is all fortune and fate, and none can resist his doom, my +lord,” said Leofric. +</p> + +<p> +“But Elfric; yes, I loved Elfric. I would I had never left that fatal +field.” +</p> + +<p> +“Think, my lord, of Elgiva.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Elgiva—she is left to me and left all is left. Ride faster, +Leofric, I fancy I hear pursuers.” +</p> + +<p> +They had, at Cynewulf’s suggestion, taken fresh horses from the reserve, +and had little cause to fear pursuit. In an hour they reached the Foss Way and +rode along the route described in our former chapter, until, reaching the +frontiers of the territory of the old Dobuni, they left the Foss, and rode by +the Roman trackway which we have previously described, until they turned into a +road which brought them deep into Oxfordshire. Here they were in a territory +which had been a debateable land between Mercia and Wessex, where the +sympathies of the people were not strongly enlisted on either side and they +were comparatively safe. +</p> + +<p> +They passed Kirtlington; rested at Oxenford, then rode through Dorchester and +Bensington to Reading, whence they struck southward for Winchester, where Edwy +rested from his fatigue in the society of Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +So ended the ill-advised raid into Mercia. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br/> +EARTH TO EARTH, AND DUST TO DUST.</h2> + +<p> +Although Edwy and his little troop had been successful in gaining the main +road, and in escaping into Wessex, yet few of his followers had been so +fortunate, and his broken forces were seeking safety and escape in all +directions, wanderers in a hostile country. A large number found a refuge in +the entrenched camp; but it was surrounded by the foe in less than half-an-hour +after the king’s escape, and all ingress or egress was thenceforth +impossible. +</p> + +<p> +While one large body fled eastward towards the Watling Street, the soldiers who +had accompanied the king to Æscendune naturally turned their thoughts in that +direction. It was, as they had seen, capable of a long defence—well +provisioned, and already partly garrisoned; nor could they doubt the joy with +which their old companions would receive them, either to share in the defence +of the post, or to accompany them in an honourable retreat southward. +</p> + +<p> +So, not only those who survived of the fifty who had left Æscendune the +previous morning, but all whom they could persuade to join them, actuated +separately by the same considerations, made their way in small detachments +through the forest towards the hall. Redwald had thoroughly earned the +confidence of all his warriors, and they would follow him to death or victory +with equal devotion. Now, in adversity, they only sought to put themselves once +more under the rule of their talented and daring chieftain. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore it was that while Father Cuthbert was yet kneeling in the chapel, +where the body of the departed thane had been placed, the devotions of the good +priest were disturbed by the blowing of horns and the loud shout whereby the +first fugitives sought admittance into the castle. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald had also been up nearly all night pacing his room, muttering +incoherently to himself. Over and over again he regarded intently a locket +containing a solitary tress of grey hair, and once or twice the word +“Avenged” rose to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“And they little know,” said he, soliloquising, “who the +avenger is, or what have been his wrongs; little know they how the dead is +represented in the halls of his sire—blind! blind! Whichever way the +victory eventually turn, he is avenged.” +</p> + +<p> +While he thus soliloquised he was aroused by the same noise which had disturbed +Father Cuthbert’s devotions, and, recognising its source, betook himself +to the gateway, where some of his own soldiers were on guard, who, true to +discipline, awaited his permission to allow their comrades to enter: it is +needless to say it was readily given. +</p> + +<p> +Broken and dispirited was the little troop of ten or a dozen men, who first +appeared in this manner after the fight; their garments torn and bloody, some +of them wounded, they yet raised a shout of joy as they saw their trusted +leader. +</p> + +<p> +“Whence come ye, my comrades in arms?” said he, “and what are +your news—you look like men who have fled from battle.” +</p> + +<p> +“We did not fly till all was lost.” +</p> + +<p> +The countenance of Redwald indicated some little emotion, though it was +transient as the lightning’s flash in the summer night. +</p> + +<p> +“The king—is it well with him?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has fled with a small troop to the south.” +</p> + +<p> +“Saw you aught of Elfric of Æscendune?” +</p> + +<p> +“He fell in the last charge of the cavalry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“We think so.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is it that you have suffered yourselves to be beaten?” +</p> + +<p> +“Had you been there it might have ended differently. We became the +aggressors, and attacked a superior force, while they had all the advantage of +ground.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come in. You must first have some food and wine; then you shall tell me +all. We may need your help here, and shall be glad of every able-bodied +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“More are on the road.” +</p> + +<p> +And so it proved, for party after party continued to fall in. The solemn quiet, +which so well befitted the house of mourning, was banished by the presence of +the soldiery in such large numbers, for early in the day nearly a hundred and +fifty were gathered together, and accommodation threatened to fall short. +</p> + +<p> +Under these circumstances the lady Edith became very anxious that either the +departure of her unwelcome guests should be hastened, or that the loved remains +should be removed at once to the priory church, where she could bemoan her +grief in quiet solitude, and be alone with her beloved and God. There seemed no +rest or peace possible in the hall, and Redwald was apportioning all the +accommodation to his followers as they came, preserving only the private +apartments of the lady Edith from intrusion. +</p> + +<p> +She was still expecting the arrival of Elfric, for Redwald had not communicated +the news he had received, and she did not even know that King Edwy had been +defeated; so absorbed was she in her grief, that she did not note the thousand +little circumstances which might have told her as much. +</p> + +<p> +But before the hour of terce, Alfred came into the room where she was seated +with her daughter, and she saw by his troubled countenance that he had +something to communicate which pained him to tell. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric!” she said—“he is well?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has not come yet, my mother; and I grieve to say that we were +deceived yesterday—deceived about the battle.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“The king was defeated; he has fled southward, and there has been a great +slaughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +“No one can tell me anything about him,” said Alfred, wringing his +hands. “Mother, you must leave this place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave our home—and now?” +</p> + +<p> +“They talk of defending it against the forces of the Etheling Edgar, who +has been declared king; and we should all be in great danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“But will they stay here against our will?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; for they say their lives depend upon it, that the Mercians scour +all the country round about, that all the roads are now occupied and guarded, +so that they can only hope to defend this place until they can make terms with +the King of Mercia, as they call Edgar, who is likely to be acknowledged by all +north of the Thames. The curse of the Church is, they say, upon Edwy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father Cuthbert is still here, is he not?—what does he advise? +where shall we go?” +</p> + +<p> +“He says we can have the old house in which he, and the mass-thanes <a +href="#EndNoteB7sym" name="EndNoteB7anc"><sup>xxix</sup></a> before him, lived +while as yet the priory was incomplete or unbuilt. It is very comfortable, and +close to the church.” +</p> + +<p> +“But to take him so soon from his home!” +</p> + +<p> +“They will place him in God’s house, before the altar; there could +not be a better place where they or we could wish his dear remains to await the +last rites upon earth.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Father Cuthbert entered the room unannounced. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, my revered lady,” he began; “but I grieve to say +that your safety demands instant action, and must excuse my intrusion; your +life and liberty are no longer safe here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Life and liberty?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is some foul plot to detain you all here, on pretence your safety +requires it. I have been this morning to Redwald, and he refuses permission for +any one to leave the place, asserting that thus only can he assure your safety. +Now, it is plain that if the place comes to be besieged you would be far safer +in the priory or the old priests’ house. Our own countrymen would not +injure us.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will not detain us by force?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would not trust to that; but we must meet guile by guile. I have +pretended to be content on your behalf and he is just going to leave the hall, +with the greater part of his followers, to collect provisions and cattle. I +have told him that the Grange farm is well stocked; he has caught the bait, and +is going to superintend the work of spoliation in person: far better, in the +present need, that he should rob the estate than that a hair of your head or of +those of your children should perish.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why do you suspect him of evil?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell you now. I have overheard dark, dark speeches. So soon as +he has gone, Alfred and I must summon all your own people who are in the hall. +We will then bring the body forth, and follow it ourselves; as we shall +outnumber those left behind I do not imagine they will dare, in his absence, to +interfere with our progress.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will go at once,” said Alfred, “and summon the +household.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; you would be observed. I am older and perhaps a little more +discreet. Stay with your mother till all is ready.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred reluctantly obeyed, and Father Cuthbert went forth. So great was their +anxiety that it almost banished the power of prayer, save such mental shafts as +could be sent heavenward in each interval of thought. +</p> + +<p> +At last Alfred, who was at the window, saw Redwald and his +followers—nearly a hundred in number—leave the castle and ride +across towards the forest in the direction of the farm in question. Another +moment and Father Cuthbert entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you ready? If so, follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +He took them by a private passage into the chapel, where four men already stood +by the bier, ready to head the procession, and thirty or forty others were +gathered in the chapel or about the door—their own vassals, good and +true. They all were armed. +</p> + +<p> +Father Cuthbert ascended the wooden tower above the chapel, which served as a +bell cot. He looked from its windows; the party of Redwald had disappeared +behind the trees. +</p> + +<p> +He came down and gave the signal. The sad procession started; they descended +the steps to the courtyard. Redwald had left some forty or fifty men +behind—men who had grown old in arms, and who, if they had pleased, might +perhaps have stopped the exit, but they were not sufficiently in the confidence +of their leader to take the initiative; and the only man who was in his +confidence, and whom he had charged to see that no one departed, was +fortunately at that moment in another part of the building. The sentinel at the +drawbridge was one of Redwald’s troop. He menaced opposition, and refused +to let the drawbridge be peaceably lowered. +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou a Christian?” said Father Cuthbert, coming forward in his +priestly attire, “and dost thou presume to interfere with a servant of +the Lord and to delay a funeral?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must obey my orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will excommunicate thee, and deliver thy soul to Satan.” +</p> + +<p> +And he began to utter some awful Latin imprecation, which so aroused the +superstition of the sentinel that he made no further opposition, which perhaps +saved his life, for the retainers of Æscendune were meditating instant +violence, indignant at the delay and the outrage to their lady. +</p> + +<p> +They themselves let the drawbridge down and guarded the sad cortege over the +plain. Their numbers increased every moment, and before they reached the +neighbourhood of the priory they had little cause to fear any attack, should +Redwald have arrived and have been rash enough to attempt one. +</p> + +<p> +The old parsonage house, which had served for the residence of each successive +parish prior or mass-thane, was a large and commodious building, containing all +such accommodation as the family absolutely required in the emergency, while +furniture, provision and comforts of all kinds were sent over from the priory, +for the good fathers did not forget at this hour of need that they owed their +own home to the liberality of Ella and his father. +</p> + +<p> +So when they had deposited the loved remains before the altar of the church, +and had knelt a brief season in prayer, the exiled family took possession of +their temporary home. It was hard—very hard—to give up their loved +dwelling at such a season of affliction, but the dread which Redwald had +somehow inspired made it a great relief to be removed from his immediate +presence. +</p> + +<p> +Yet they could give no reason for the feeling they all shared. Father Cuthbert +evidently suspected, or knew, things which he as yet concealed from them. +</p> + +<p> +“Who could have slain the husband and father?” +</p> + +<p> +This was the unanswered question. Their suspicions could only turn to Redwald +or some of his crew: no marauders were known to lurk in the forest; there was, +they felt assured, not one of his own people who would not have died in his +defence. Again, it was not the lust of gold which had suggested the deed, for +they had found the gold chain he wore untouched. What then could have been the +motive of the murderer? +</p> + +<p> +Father Cuthbert had found a solution, which was based upon sad experience of +the traditional feuds so frequently handed down from father to son. Still he +would not suggest further cause of disquietude, and added no further words. +</p> + +<p> +The utter uncertainty about Elfric was another cause of uneasiness. Whether he +had gone southward with the king, or had fallen on the battlefield, they knew +not; or whether he had surrendered with the prisoners taken in the entrenched +camp, and who had been all admitted to mercy. +</p> + +<p> +In the course of the morning they saw Redwald return, laden with the spoils of +the Grange farm—oxen and sheep, waggons containing corn, driven before +him. What passed within on his entrance they could not tell; how narrow their +escape they knew not—were not even certain it had been an escape at all. +</p> + +<p> +It was now determined that the interment should take place on the morrow, and +the intelligence was communicated rapidly to all the tenantry. +</p> + +<p> +Hourly they expected the forces of Mercia to appear, and exact a heavy account +from Redwald for his offences. He was supposed to be the instigator of the +expedition which had failed so utterly; it was not likely that he would be +allowed to retain Æscendune a long time. The only surprise people felt was +that he should have dared to remain at the post when all hope of successful +resistance had ceased. He had his own reasons, which they knew not. +</p> + +<p> +Under these circumstances it seemed desirable to hurry forward the interment, +lest it should be interfered with from without, in the confusion of hostile +operations against the hall. +</p> + +<p> +The priory church was a noble but irregular structure, of great size for those +days. The cunning architect from the Continent, who had designed it, had far +surpassed the builders of ordinary churches in the grandeur of his conception. +The lofty roof, the long choir beyond the transept, gave the idea of magnitude +most forcibly, and added dignity to the design. In the south transept was a +chapel dedicated especially to St. Cuthbert, where the aged Offa reposed, and +the mother of Ella. There they had removed the body to await the last solemn +rites. Six large wax tapers burned around it, and watchers were there day and +night—mourners who had loved him well, and felt that in him they had lost +a dear friend. +</p> + +<p> +The wife, the son, or the daughter, were ever there, but seldom alone. For when +the monks in the choir were not saying the canonical hours, or the low mass was +not being said at one of the side altars, still the voice of intercession +arose, with its burden: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Eternal rest give unto him, O Lord,<br/> +And let perpetual light shine upon him.” +</p> + +<p> +At length the morning came, the second only after death. The neighbouring +thanes whom the troubled times did not detain at home, the churls of the +estate, the thralls, crowded the precincts of the minster, as the solemn bell +tolled the deep funeral knell. At length the monks poured into the church, +while the solemn “<i>Domino refugium</i>” arose from their +lips—the same grand words which for these thousand years past have told +of the eternity of God and the destiny of the creature; speaking as deeply to +the heart then as in these days of civilisation. +</p> + +<p> +The mourners entered, Alfred supporting his widowed mother, who had summoned +all her fortitude to render the last sad offices to her dear lord; her +daughter, a few distant relations—there were none nearer of kin. The +bier, with its precious burden, was placed in the centre before the high altar. +Six monks, bearing torches, knelt around it. A pall, beautifully embroidered, +covered the coffin, a wreath of flowers surmounting a cross was placed upon it. +</p> + +<p> +The solemn requiem mass commenced, and the great Sacrifice once offered upon +Calvary was pleaded for the soul of the deceased thane. When the last prayer +had been said, the coffin was sprinkled with hallowed water, and perfumed with +sweet incense, after which it was removed to its last resting place. The grave +was already prepared. Again the earthly cavern was sprinkled with the hallowed +water, emblematical of the blood of sprinkling which speaketh better things +than that of Abel, and the body—the sacred dust for which Christ had +died, in which God had dwelt as in a temple—was lowered, to be sown in +corruption, that hereafter it might be raised in incorruption and joy +unspeakable. +</p> + +<p> +All crowded to take the last sad look. Alfred felt his dear mother’s arm +tremble as she leant on him, yet gazed firmly into that last resting place, +while the solemn strain arose: +</p> + +<p> +“Ego sum resurrectio et vita. Qui credit in Me, etiam si mortuus fuerit +vivet; et omnis qui vivit, et credit in Me, non morietur in æternum.” <a +href="#EndNoteB8sym" name="EndNoteB8anc"><sup>xxx</sup></a> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br/> +“AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT.”</h2> + +<p> +The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn what had really been the +fate of the unhappy Elfric of Æscendune—whether he had indeed been cut +off with the work of repentance incomplete, or whether he yet survived to +realise the calamity which had fallen upon his household. +</p> + +<p> +He lived. When the blow of his adversary, as we have seen, crushed him to the +earth, and he lay there with his head on the ground, prostrate, amidst kicking +and plunging hoofs, and the roar and confusion of deadly strife, Providence, +without which not one sparrow falleth to the ground, watched over him, and +averted the iron hoofs from his forehead. Could one have concentrated his gaze +upon that little spot of earth and have seen the furious hoofs graze, without +injuring, that tender forehead, could he have beheld the gallop of the +retreating steeds over and around that senseless form, for it now lay +senseless, he would have realised that there is One Whose Eye is observant of +each minute detail which concerns the life of His beloved ones—nay, Who +knows the movements of the tiniest insect, while His Hand directs the rolling +spheres. And his care preserved Elfric for His Own wise ends, until the fight +receded, leaving its traces behind it, as when the tide of ocean recedes after +a storm and the beach is strewn with wreck—bodies of men, of horses, +mutilated, dismembered, dead or dying, disabled or desperately wounded. +</p> + +<p> +Hours had passed, during which the sounds of the combat still maintained at the +entrenched camp came freshly on the ear, and then died away, until the solemn +night fell upon the scene, and the only sound which smote the ear were faint, +faint moans—cries of “Water! water!” incessantly repeated +from hundreds of feeble lips. +</p> + +<p> +It was then that Elfric awoke from the insensibility which had resulted from +exhaustion and the stunning blow he had received in his fall. Every limb seemed +in pain, for the loss of blood had not left the vital powers strength for the +maintenance of the due circulation through the body, and the cold night air +chilled the frame. He did not at first comprehend where he was, but as his +senses returned he perceived all too well that he was left for dead. +</p> + +<p> +His first impulse was to see whether he had strength to arise. He raised +himself partially, first on one elbow, and then he strove to stand up, but fell +back feebly and helplessly, like an infant who first essays to escape its +mother’s arms and to trust its feeble limbs. +</p> + +<p> +Then he looked around him, thus raising his head, and gazed upon the sad and +shocking scene. Close by him, with the head cleft literally in two by a +battle-axe, lay a horseman, and his blood reddened all the ground around +Elfric’s feet, and had deeply dyed the youth’s lower garments; a +horse, his own, lay dead, the jugular vein cut through, with all the +surrounding muscles and sinews; hard by, a rider had fallen with such impetus, +that his helmet had fixed itself deeply in the ground, and the body seemed as +if it had quivered for the moment in the air; a dart had transfixed another +through belt and stomach, and he lay with the weapon appearing on either side +the body. Near these lay another, whose thigh had been pierced to the great +artery, and who had bled to death, as the deadly paleness of the face showed; +here and there one yet lived, as faint moan and broken utterance testified; but +Elfric could bear no more, his head sank upon the ground, and he hid his face. +</p> + +<p> +It was bright starlight, and the gleam of the heavenly host seemed to mock the +wounded youth as he thought of the previous night, when, sound in body, he had +wandered beneath the glittering canopy of the heavens; and thus reminded, all +the thoughts of that previous night came back upon him, especially the +remembrance of his sin, of his desertion of his father, of his vicious life at +court, of his neglect for three years and more of all the obligations of +religion, and he groaned aloud in the anguish of his spirit. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! spare me, my God!” he cried, “for I am not fit to die! +Spare me, that I may at least receive my father’s forgiveness.” +</p> + +<p> +For he felt as if he could not ask God to forgive him until he had been +forgiven by his father. Little did he think, poor boy, that that father lay +cold in death; that never could he hear the blessed words of forgiveness from +his tongue; neither had he the consolation of knowing how completely he had +been forgiven, and how lovingly he had been remembered in his father’s +last hours upon earth. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot die! I cannot die!” thus he cried; and he strove again to +raise himself from the ground, but in vain; strove again, as if he would have +dragged his feeble body through pain and anguish all the way to Æscendune, but +could not. The story of the prodigal son, often told him by Father Cuthbert, +came back to him, not so much in its spiritual as in its literal aspect: he +would fain arise and go to his father; but he could not. +</p> + +<p> +“O happy prodigal!” he cried; “thou couldst at least go from +that far off country, and the husks which the swine did eat; but I cannot, I +cannot!” +</p> + +<p> +While thus grieving in bitterness of spirit, he saw a light flitting about +amongst the dead bodies, and stopping every now and then; once he saw it pause, +and heard a cry of expostulation, then a faint scream, and all was still; and +he comprehended that this was no ministering angel, but one of those villainous +beings who haunt the battlefield to prey upon the slain, and to despatch with +short mercy those who offer resistance. +</p> + +<p> +He lay very, very quiet, hoping that the light would not come near him, and he +trembled every time it bent its course that way; but at length his fears seemed +about to be realised—it drew near, and he saw the face of a hideous +looking hag, dressed in coarse and vile garments, who held a bloody dagger in +the right hand, and kept the left in a kind of bag, tied to her person, in +which she had evidently accumulated great store. Her eyes were roaming about, +until the light suddenly was reflected from the poor lad’s brilliant +accoutrements, and she advanced towards him. +</p> + +<p> +He groaned, and sank backwards, and her hand was upon the dagger, while she +cast such a look as the fabled vampire might cast upon her destined victim, +loving gold much, but perhaps blood most, when all at once she turned and fled. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric knew not what had saved him; when voices fell upon his ear, and the +baying of a dog. +</p> + +<p> +“Which way has that hag fled? Pursue her, she murders the wounded.” +</p> + +<p> +The sound of rushing feet was heard, and Elfric felt that help was near, yet +leaving him, and he cried aloud, “Help! help! for the love of God.” +</p> + +<p> +One delayed in his course, and came and stood over the prostrate form. It was a +monk, for the boy recognised the Benedictine habit, and his heart sank within +him as he remembered how pitilessly he had helped to drive that habit from +Glastonbury. +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou grievously wounded, my son?” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel faint, even unto death, with loss of blood. Oh! remove me, and +bear me home; if thou art a man of God leave me not here to perish in my +sins.” +</p> + +<p> +The piteous appeal went to the heart of the monk, and he knelt down, and by the +aid of a small lamp, examined the wounds of the sufferer. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou mayst yet live, my son,” he said; “tell me where is thy +home; is it in Mercia?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is! it is! My home is Æscendune; it is not far from here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Æscendune—knowest thou Father Cuthbert?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do indeed; he was my tutor, once my spiritual father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thy name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, son of the thane Ella.” +</p> + +<p> +The monk started, then raised a loud cry, which speedily brought two or three +men in the dress of thralls (theows) to his side. +</p> + +<p> +“She will murder no more, father; the dog overtook her, and held her till +we came; she was red with blood, and we knocked her down; Oswy here brained her +with his club.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is well—she deserved her fate; but, Oswy, look at this +face.” +</p> + +<p> +“St. Wilfred preserve us!” cried the man “it is the young +lord. He is not dying, is he? She hadn’t hurt him—the +she-wolf?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, we were just in time, and only just in time; we must carry him home +to his father.” +</p> + +<p> +The monk had started for the expected scene of battle, intent on doing good, +with a small party of the thralls of Æscendune, just after Edwy had left the +hall; consequently, he knew nothing of the death of the thane or the subsequent +events. Oh, how sweetly his words fell upon Elfric’s ears, “Carry +him home to his father.” +</p> + +<p> +A litter was speedily made; one of the thralls jumped into a willow tree which +overhung the stream, and cut down some of the stoutest boughs. The others wove +them with withes into a kind of litter, threw their own upper garments thereon +in their love, placed the poor wounded form as tenderly upon it as a mother +would have done, and bore him from the field, ever and anon stopping to relieve +some other poor wounded sufferer, and to comfort him with the intelligence that +similar aid was at hand for all, as the various lights now appearing testified. +</p> + +<p> +For themselves, they felt all other obligation fade before their duty to their +young lord. He was object of their solicitude. +</p> + +<p> +So they bore him easily along, until they reached a stream; there they paused +and washed the heated brow, and allowed the parched lips to imbibe, but only +slightly, the pure fresh beverage, sweeter far than the stimulant the good monk +had poured down his throat on the field. Then they arranged his +dress—bound up his wounds, for the Benedictine was an accomplished +surgeon for the times; after which, having satisfied himself that his patient +was able to bear the transit, he departed, with a cheerful benediction, to +render the like aid to others. +</p> + +<p> +So comforted was Elfric, and so relieved from pain, that he slept all through +the following hours, as they bore him along through woodland paths; and he +dreamt that he had met his father and was clasped lovingly in his forgiving +arms. +</p> + +<p> +At daybreak they were six or seven miles from the camp, and they rested, for +the continued effort had wearied the bearers. They made a fire, cooked their +breakfast, and tried to persuade Elfric to eat, which he did, sparingly. +</p> + +<p> +Then they resumed their journey; they kept as much in the shade as possible, +for it was a bright day; rested again at noontide, with only five or six miles +before them; started when the heat was a little overpast, and just after sunset +came in sight of the halls of Æscendune, from the opening in the forest whence +Elfric had beheld them that night when he first brought Prince Edwy home in +company with his brother Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +The wounded youth raised himself up, looked with intense affection at the home +of his youth, and sank back contented on his couch, thinking only of father and +mother, brother and sister, and the sweet forgiveness he felt sure awaited him. +Poor boy! +</p> + +<p> +It was almost dark when they reached the gate of the castle, and the drawbridge +was up. One of the bearers blew his horn loudly, and the summons brought the +warder to the little window over the postern gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you, and what do you seek?” was the cry. +</p> + +<p> +“We are bringing my young lord, Elfric of Æscendune, home from the +battlefield wounded.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a while.” +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes passed; then the drawbridge was lowered, and the bearers bore +their burden into the courtyard. Every moment Elfric expected to see the +beloved faces bending over him; but all seemed strange, till he remembered that +Redwald had remained behind at the hall; the four bearers spoke uneasily to one +another, and Oswy disappeared in the dusky twilight. +</p> + +<p> +At length three or four men, in the military costume so familiar to Elfric, +approached the litter; and raising him, bore him into the interior of the +building, up the stairs, into the gallery, which partly ran round at the height +of the first floor. The door of a room was opened, a familiar room; it had been +his father’s bedroom, and Elfric was placed on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask them to come to me,” he said “father, mother, Alfred, +Edgitha!—where are they?” +</p> + +<p> +But minute after minute passed by, and no one came near; there was no light in +the room, and it was soon very dark. Elfric became very uncomfortable; it was +not the kind of reception he had promised himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Why does not my father come,” he muttered impatiently, “to +see his wounded boy?” and he felt at one moment his pride revive, then a +sickening feeling of anxiety filled his heart. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not until an hour had passed that he heard a heavy step on the +stairs, and soon the door opened, and Redwald appeared. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric gazed upon him with surprise; especially when he noted the stern cold +look which sat on his features. As Redwald did not speak, Elfric took the +initiative. +</p> + +<p> +“Why is not my father here? I want to see him, Redwald; do send him to +me; say I must see him, I must—I cannot endure this longer; it is more +than I can bear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Calm yourself and listen to me, for I have a strange story to unfold to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not now; some other time; do send them to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must be heard now; and perhaps when you have heard it, you will +comprehend why they do not come.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they will come?” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, there was, two generations back, a man who had two sons; he was +a noble thane of high descent, his eldest son was worthy of his father, high +souled, impetuous, brave, fiery, and in short, all a warrior’s son should +be: the younger son had the heart of a monk, and was learned in all pious +tricks; he stole the father’s heart from his elder brother.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric began to listen at this point. +</p> + +<p> +“At last, misjudgment and unkindness drove the elder brother from home, +and he sought food and shelter from men who had the souls of conquerors. With +them he lived, for his father disinherited him; he had no father, he had no +country.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric began to draw his breath quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“At length war arose between those who had sheltered and protected him, +and the people who should have been his own people; say what side was the exile +to be found on?” +</p> + +<p> +“He should have fought with his own people.” +</p> + +<p> +“His own people were those who had really adopted him when his father and +family disowned him, and with them he fought for victory; but the fates were +unpropitious, the people with whom his father and brother fought were +successful; the son was taken prisoner, and adjudged to die a traitor’s +death, his own father and brother consenting.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric began to comprehend all. +</p> + +<p> +“They put him on board an open boat, and sent him out to sea, at the +mercy of winds and waves; but not alone; he had married amongst the people who +had adopted him, and his boy would not forsake his sire, for he had one +boy—the mother was dead. This boy besought the hard-hearted executioners +of a tyrant’s will to let him share the fate of his sire, so earnestly, +that at last they consented.” +</p> + +<p> +“The boat, as it pleased fate, was driven by wind and tide on the shore +of Denmark, and there the unhappy exile landed; but he had been wounded in the +battle, and his subsequent exposure caused his early death; before he died he +bequeathed one legacy, and only one, to his son— +</p> + +<p> +“Vengeance.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric was pale as death, and trembled visibly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you are—” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, I am your cousin, and the deadly foe of you and yours!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then my poor father; but if you must find a victim seek it in me; spare +him! oh, spare him!” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald smiled; but such a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“At least let me see him now, and obtain his forgiveness. Redwald, he is +my father; you were faithful to your father; let me atone for my unfaithfulness +to mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“You believe there is another world, perhaps?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric only answered by a look of piteous alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, in that case, you must seek your father there; although I fear +Dunstan would say there is likely to be a gulf between you.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric comprehended him, and with a cry which might have melted a heart of +stone, fell back upon the bed. For a moment he lay like one stunned, then began +to utter incoherent ravings, and gazed vacantly around, as one who is +delirious. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald seemed for one moment like a man contending with himself, like one who +felt pity struggling with sterner emotions; yet the contest was very short. +</p> + +<p> +“It is of no use—he must die; if hearts break, I hope his will +break, and save me the task of shedding his blood, or causing it to be shed; +there must be no weakness now; he has been sadly wounded; if he is left alone, +he will die; better so—I would spare him if I were not bound by an oath +so dread that I shudder to think of it. The others have escaped: he must +die.” +</p> + +<p> +Still he walked to and fro, as if pity yet contended with the thirst for +vengeance in his hardened breast: perhaps it was his day of grace, and the +Spirit of Him, Who has said “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” +pleaded hard with the sinner. Yet the gentle Voice pleaded in vain; still he +walked to and fro, until his resolution seemed firmly made; and he left the +chamber, fastening it on the outside. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br/> +“UNDER WHICH KING?”</h2> + +<p> +It will be remembered that one of the theows who had borne Elfric home from the +field of battle had become alarmed by the suspicious aspect of things at the +hall, and had escaped, by prompt evasion, the confinement which awaited his +companions. Oswy, for it was he, thus showed his natural astuteness, while he +also conferred the greatest possible obligation upon Elfric, since he bore the +news of his ill-timed arrival at once to the priory. +</p> + +<p> +Here his worst suspicions were confirmed; and the faithful thrall heard for the +first time of the death of his late lord, and that he had given his young +master into the hands of his bitter foes. Alfred was at once summoned; and a +conference was held, in which Father Cuthbert, his brethren, and the +chamberlain and steward of the hall, took part. +</p> + +<p> +“It is now generally believed,” said Father Cuthbert, “that +Redwald is the bitter enemy, for some reason, of the house of Æscendune. Has +any one here suspected that reason?” +</p> + +<p> +No one could give any reply. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear what I am about to say,” he continued, “will startle +you all. Redwald is a member of the family himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“A member of the family!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Is there any one present who remembers the unhappy brother of our +late lamented lord—Oswald, the son of Offa?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the old chamberlain, “I remember him well; and I +see now what you mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is not the expression of the face identical? Are they not the same +features, as one might say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet Redwald is much darker.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because his mother was Danish, and he has inherited some of her +peculiarities, that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still,” said the steward, “every one supposed that the +unhappy Oswald perished at sea with his son. Never shall I forget the grief of +the old thane Offa, when inquiring for the son, he learned that he had gone +with the father to his death. He would have adopted him.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do we not,” added a Benedictine, “say a mass daily at +St. Wilfred’s altar for the souls of Oswald and his son Ragnar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oswald may be dead; Ragnar yet lives in Redwald. The name alone is +changed.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where are the proofs? We cannot wholly trust an imaginary +resemblance.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not imaginary; and these are the proofs in question. The night +after the murder” (all looked at each other as if a sudden inspiration +struck them), “as I was going to the chapel from the lady Edith’s +apartments, I passed through a passage little used, but leading past the +chamber allotted to Redwald, and only separated by a thin wainscoting. I was +startled as I passed it by the sound of a pacing to and fro; an incessant +pacing; and I heard the inmate of the room soliloquising with himself as in a +state of frenzied feeling. I caught only broken words but again and again I +heard ‘Avenged;’ and once ‘Father you are avenged;’ and +once ‘Little do they know who is their guest;’ once ‘It is a +good beginning,’ and such like ejaculations. I remained a long time, +because, as you will all see, the murderer stood revealed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why did you not tell us before?” exclaimed all, almost in a +breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Because it would have been of no avail. Had there been the least chance +of calling him to account, I should, you may be sure, have proclaimed his +guilt. But early in the morning fresh forces began to arrive to his aid. My +only endeavour was to get the lady Edith and her remaining children safe from +the castle; and it was only by dissembling my feelings, by talking face to face +with the man of blood, by pretending to trust him, that I could succeed. Had he +not thought us all perfectly satisfied, he would never have left the hall to go +foraging in person; and now all would be well, but for this sad, sad chance, +which has placed the poor lad Elfric in his power.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Alfred, “this makes the case worse than ever. +Poor Elfric! they will kill him. Oh, can this be Ragnar?” +</p> + +<p> +The Benedictines expressed themselves convinced, because the supposition +explained the present circumstances so clearly, and accounted for that hitherto +unaccountable circumstance—the murder. The steward and chamberlain both +fancied they recognised the family likeness; and so the solution at which +Father Cuthbert had arrived was accepted by all. +</p> + +<p> +The question was now what course to adopt, for the night was fast wearing away. +</p> + +<p> +“Two things are to be done,” said Father Cuthbert. “The first +is to secure the safety of the lady Edith and her children from any sudden +attack from the castle, to which effect I propose holding all the vassals in +arms; and, in case of any force leaving the hall, I purpose giving the lady +Edith and her daughter instant sanctuary in the priory, while the vassals +gather round its precincts; for, I fear me, this Ragnar is a heathen, and would +but little respect the house of God.” +</p> + +<p> +“Could we not attack the hall and release Elfric? Think of Elfric,” +said Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be madness; Redwald has more than a hundred and fifty men of +war within it. The place is full; we could not attack with the least chance of +success. No: the second thing I meant to propose was this, that we should send +an instant message to King Edgar, who is near at hand, and explain the whole +circumstances to him. He has many causes of enmity against Redwald, and would +probably come to our aid at once, as the safety of his realm would require him +to do eventually.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me be the messenger; he will surely listen to the pleadings of a +brother for a brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had so designed,” said Father Cuthbert; “and in order that +no chance may be thrown away, I will adventure myself in the lion’s den, +and threaten with the penalties of excommunication this vindictive Redwald or +Ragnar.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, father; you will never come out alive. No, no!” said they all. +</p> + +<p> +The last proposal was universally discouraged. Redwald had already special +cause of enmity against Father Cuthbert, who had robbed him of part of his +destined prey; and it was ultimately settled that Father Swithin, another of +the order, should be charged with the mission, with the power to make +conciliatory offers, or to act on the other course as he should see fit; in +short, to use all his wit for Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred did not delay a moment unnecessarily, but in the dawning light set +forward to seek Edgar, of whom he had no definite information, but who was +believed to linger in the neighbourhood of the battlefield, holding council +with earls and thanes as to the further steps to be taken, and receiving the +submission of the whole Mercian, East Anglian, and Northumbrian nobility. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, mounted upon a good steed, and accompanied by Oswy, he rapidly +traversed the country over which his brother had been so painfully borne; +slowly, however, in places, for here and there large tracts of swamp obstructed +the way, and in other places the thickets were dense and impervious; even where +the country was cultivated the unpaved roads were rough and hazardous for +riders. +</p> + +<p> +It was past the hour of nones, the ninth hour of the day, when the riders +reached the battlefield, which still bore frightful traces of the recent +combat; reddened with blood, which had left its dark traces on large patches of +the ground, and encumbered with the bodies of horses and men which had not yet +found sepulture, although bands of theows from the neighbouring estates were +busily engaged in the necessary toil, excavating huge pits, and placing the +dead—no longer rivals—reverently and decently in their last long +home. Several wolves could be discerned, hanging about under the skirts of the +forest, but not daring to come out into the plain while the day lasted and the +men were about; whole flocks of ravenous birds flew about the scene, now +settling down on the spots where the strife had been hottest, now soaring away +when disturbed in their sickening feast. +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time Alfred had ever gazed upon a battlefield; and now he saw +it stripped of all the romance and glamour which bards had thrown over it, and +the sight appalled him. +</p> + +<p> +He drew near a large pit into which the thralls were casting the dead. Many of +the bodies presented, as we have already seen, a most ghastly spectacle; and +nearly all had begun to decompose. Mentally he thanked God that Elfric, at +least, was not there; and he turned aside his head in horror at the sight. +</p> + +<p> +He now inquired of the foreman of the labourers whether he knew where the +Etheling Edgar would be. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean King Edgar, for the Mercians will acknowledge no other king. +The people of Wessex may keep the enemy of the saints, if they like.” +</p> + +<p> +“King Edgar, I mean. Where is he now?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has been holding a council at Tamworth town, in the old palace of +King Offa; and they say all the tributary kings have come there to be his men, +and all the great earls.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you tell me the nearest road to Tamworth?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it lies through the forest there, where you see those wolves +lurking about. They will begin to be dangerous when the sun goes down, and +perhaps some of them would not mind a snap at a horse or even a man, +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must take our chance;” said Alfred: “life and death hang +on our speed,” and he and Oswy rode on. +</p> + +<p> +The wolves were no longer seen. In the summer they generally avoided men, at +least during the day, and they were gradually becoming more uncommon at that +date. Alfred entertained little fear as he proceeded, until the darkening +shadows showed that night was near, and they were still in the heart of the +forest, when he began to feel alarmed. The road before them was a good wide +woodland path, and easy to follow even in the gathering darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly their horses started violently, as a loud howl was heard behind, and +repeated immediately from different quarters of the forest. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred felt that it was the gathering of the ferocious beasts, which had been +attracted from distant forests by the scent of the battlefield, and had thus +happened to lie in increased numbers around their path. The howling continued +to increase, and their horses sped onward as if mad with fear—it was all +they could do to guide them safely. +</p> + +<p> +Nearer and nearer drew the fearful sound; and looking back they beheld the +fiery eyes swarming along the road after them. They had begun to abandon hope, +when all at once they heard the sound of advancing horsemen in front of them, +accompanied by the clank of arms. The wolves heard it too, and with all the +cunning cowardice of their race scampered away from their intended prey, just +as Alfred and Oswy avoided impaling themselves upon the lances of the coming +deliverers. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom have we here, riding at this pace through the woods?” cried +out a rough, manly voice. +</p> + +<p> +“The wolves were after the poor fellows,” said another. +</p> + +<p> +“They may speak for themselves,” said the leader, confronting +Alfred. “Art thou a Mercian and a friend of King Edgar? Under which king? +Speak, or die!” +</p> + +<p> +“I seek King Edgar. My name is Alfred, son of Ella of Æscendune.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who sheltered the men of Wessex, and entertained the impious Edwy in his +castle.” +</p> + +<p> +“We had no power to resist had we wished to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which you evidently did not. May a plain soldier ask you now why you +seek King Edgar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” said Alfred, “my father has been murdered, and my +brother made a prisoner by Redwald, the captain of King Edwy’s +hus-carles, who holds our house, and has driven us all out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your father murdered! Your family expelled! Your brother a prisoner! +These are strange news.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why this delay!” cried another speaker, riding up from behind. +“The king is impatient to get on. Ride faster.” +</p> + +<p> +“The king!” cried Alfred. “Oh, lead me to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is this,” demanded the second officer, “who demands +speech of the royal Edgar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred of Æscendune. He tells us that the infamous Redwald holds the +fortified house there, has murdered the thane Ella, and expelled the family, +save the brother, whom he holds to ransom.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not to ransom,” cried Alfred. “It is his life that is +threatened. Oh, take me to Edgar!” +</p> + +<p> +“He is close behind, in company with the Ealdorman of Mercia and Siward +of Northumbria.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay behind with him, Biorn, and let us continue our route. You may +introduce him to the king, if he will see him.” +</p> + +<p> +The first party—the advance guard—now passed on, and was succeeded +almost immediately by the main body, foremost amongst whom rode Prince or +rather King Edgar, then only a youth of fifteen years of age. We last beheld +him a boy of twelve, at the date of Elfric’s arrival at the court of +Edred. By his side rode Siward, Ealdorman of Northumbria. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is this?” cried the latter, as he saw Alfred and his attendant +waiting to receive him. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred of Æscendune, with a petition for aid against Redwald, who has +seized his father’s castle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred of Æscendune!” cried Edgar. “Halt, my friends, one +moment. Alfred of Æscendune, tell me your story; to me, Edgar, your +king.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred hastened to pour his tale of sorrows into an ear evidently not +unsympathising, and when he had concluded Edgar asked —“And tell me +what is your request. It shall be granted even to the uttermost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only that you, my lord, would hasten to our aid and deliver my brother +for his poor widowed mother’s sake.” +</p> + +<p> +“We should send a troop against Redwald in any case, but even had our +plans been otherwise, know this, Alfred of Æscendune, that he who by his +devoted service saved the life, or at least the liberty, of Dunstan, the light +of our realm of England, and the favourite of heaven, has a claim to ask any +favour Edgar can grant. +</p> + +<p> +“Siward, my father, bid the advanced guard bend its course towards +Æscendune at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, the men are too weary to travel all night. We had purposed +halting when we reached the battlefield on our march southward. There is a +cross-country road thence to Æscendune, almost impassable in the night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we will travel early in the morning; and doubt not, Alfred, we +shall arrive in time to chastise this insolent aggressor. Redwald has been my +poor brother’s evil spirit in all things; he shall die, I swear +it,” said the precocious Edgar, a man before his time. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my lord,” said Alfred, “may I ask but one favour, that +you will permit me to proceed and relieve the anxiety of my people with the +tidings of your approach?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you must leave our side, such an errand would seem to justify you. +Poor Elfric! I remember him well. I could not have thought him in any danger +from Redwald.” +</p> + +<p> +“Redwald is his, is our bitterest foe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” said Edgar, and proceeded to elicit the whole history of +the case from Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +The sad tale was not complete till they reached the battlefield, and encamped +in the entrenchments the young prince had occupied the night before the combat. +</p> + +<p> +“We had intended,” said Edgar, “to march at once for London, +owing to news we have received from the south, but we will tarry at Æscendune +until the work is completed there, even if it cost us our crown. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Siward, I may have my way this once. I am soldier enough to know I +may not leave an enemy behind me on my march.” +</p> + +<p> +“But a small detachment might accomplish the work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will go with it myself; my heart is in it. But, Alfred, you look +very ill; you cannot proceed tonight. When did you sleep last?” +</p> + +<p> +“Three nights ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it would be madness to proceed; you must sleep, and at early dawn +you shall precede us on my own charger—which has been led all the +way—if your own is too wearied, and with an attendant or two in case of +danger from man or beast. Nay, it must be so.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred, who could scarcely stand for very fatigue, was forced to yield, and +that night he slept soundly in the camp of Edgar. At the first dawn they +aroused him from sleep, and he found a splendid warhorse awaiting him—a +gift, they told him, from Edgar. Two attendants, well mounted, awaited him in +company with Oswy. He would willingly have dispensed with their company; but he +was told that the king, anxious for his safety, had insisted upon their +attending him, and that they were answerable for his safe return to Æscendune, +the country being considered dangerous for travellers in its present disturbed +state. +</p> + +<p> +So he yielded; and before the king had arisen he left the camp, after a hasty +meal, and rode as rapidly as the roads would permit towards his desolated home. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br/> +LOVE STRONG AS DEATH.</h2> + +<p> +Meanwhile Father Swithin had gone alone and unprotected, save by his sacred +character, into the very jaws of the lion; or rather, would have gone, had he +been suffered to do so; for when he approached the hall he found the drawbridge +up, and the whole place guarded as in a state of siege. +</p> + +<p> +He advanced, nothing daunted, in front of the yawning gap where the bridge +should have been, and cried aloud—“What ho! porter; I demand speech +of my lord Redwald.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may demand speech—swine may demand pearls—but I +don’t think you will get it. Deliver me your message.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell your lord, rude churl, that I, Father Swithin, of the holy Order of +St. Benedict, have come, in the name of the rightful owners of this house, and +in the power of the Church, to demand that he deliver up Elfric of Æscendune +to the safe keeping of his friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will send your message; but keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Sir +Monk, and don’t begin muttering any of your accursed Latin, or I will see +whether the Benedictine frock is proof against an arrow.” +</p> + +<p> +In a short time Redwald appeared on the roof, above the gateway. +</p> + +<p> +“What dost thou require, Sir Monk?” said he; “thy words sound +strange in my ears.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am come, false traitor,” said Father Swithin, waxing wroth, +“to demand the person of Elfric of Æscendune, whom thou detainest +contrary to God’s law and the king’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric of Æscendune! right glad am I to hear that he is alive; my +followers have brought me word that they saw him fall in battle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, spare thy deceit, thou son of perdition, for well do we know that +he was brought home wounded last night. One of his bearers escaped thy toils, +even as a bird the snare of the fowler, and is now with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly the loon has lied unto you. Rejoiced should I be to see the +unhappy youth, and to know that he yet lived. I but hold this place, faithful +to his lord and mine, Edwy, King of all England.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why hast thou expelled the rightful dwellers therein from their +house and home? We know Elfric is with thee, and that thou art a traitor, +wherefore, deliver him up, or we will even excommunicate thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hadst better not begin in the hearing of the men who sit upon the +wall; for myself, excommunication cannot hurt a man who never goes to church, +and does not company over much with those who do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Infidel! heretic! pagan! misbeliever! accursed Ragnar!” began the +irate monk, when an arrow, perhaps only meant to frighten him (for they could +hardly have missed so fair a mark), glanced by him. +</p> + +<p> +He retreated, but still continued his maledictions. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Excommunicabo te, et omnes tibi adhærentes</i>; thou art an accursed +parricide, who hast raised thine hand against thy father’s house. <i>Vade +retro, Sathanas</i>, I will shake off the dust of my feet against +thee,”—another arrow stuck in his frock—“thou shalt +share the fate of Sodom, yea of Gomorrha; <i>in manus inimici trado +te</i>;” by this time his words were inaudible; and he departed, not +having accomplished much good, but having nevertheless informed Redwald of two +great facts—the first, that Elfric’s return was blazed abroad; the +second, that his own identity was more than suspected. +</p> + +<p> +“Ragnar!” said he, “What fiend has told them that? how came +they to suspect? Confusion! it will foil all my plans, and my vengeance will be +incomplete. At least this one victim must not escape, and yet I had sooner he +should escape than any other member of the house. Poor boy! the sins of the +fathers are heavy upon the children, as these Christians have it; but my oath, +my oath taken before a dying father! no; he must die!” +</p> + +<p> +So spake the avenger of blood, a man whose heart was evidently not all of iron; +yet from childhood had he striven to restrain every tender impulse, and had +bound himself to vengeance. Long years of peace in England had come between him +and the execution of his projects, and he had prepared himself for the task he +never lost sight of, by acquiring all the accomplishments of a knight and +warrior, and even of a man of letters, at that court of Rouen, now rapidly +becoming the focus of European chivalry, where the fierce barbarian Northmen +were becoming the refined but ruthless Normans. Then, in England, he had wormed +himself into the confidence of the future king with singular astuteness, and at +length had found the occasion he had long sought, in a manner the most +unforeseen save as a possible contingency. +</p> + +<p> +And now he turned from the battlements to his own chamber, but on the way he +paused, for he passed the door of the late thane’s room, where poor +Elfric lay. He passed the sentinel and entered. The unhappy boy was extended on +the bed, in a raging fever; ever and anon he called piteously upon his father, +then he cried out that Dunstan was pursuing him, driving him into the pit, then +he cried—“Father, I did not murder thee; not I, thy son! nay, I +always loved thee in my heart. Who is laughing? it is not Dunstan; break his +chamber open, slay him: is a monk’s blood redder than a peasant’s? +O Elgiva hast thou slain my father? See, I am all on fire; it is thy doing. +Edwy, my king, Dunstan is burning me: save me!” +</p> + +<p> +Then there was a long pause, and Redwald or Ragnar as we may now call him stood +over his unhappy cousin. The fair head lay back on the pillow, with its +profusion of golden locks; the face was red and fiery, the eyes weak and +bloodshot. +</p> + +<p> +“Water! water! I burn!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +There was no cooling medicine to alleviate the burning throat, no gentle hand +to smooth the pillow, no mother to render the sweet offices of maternal love, +no father to whisper forgiveness to the dying boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Better he should die thus,” said Ragnar, “since I cannot +spare him without breaking my oath to the dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he left the room hastily, as if he feared his own resolution. The sentinel +looked imploringly at him, as the cries of the revellers came from below. +</p> + +<p> +“Go!” said Ragnar, “join thy companions; no sentinel is +required here. Go and feast; I will come and join you.” +</p> + +<p> +So he tried to drown his new-born pity in wine. +</p> + +<p> +At a late hour of the day, Alfred and his attendants arrived, bringing news of +the coming succour to Father Cuthbert and the other friends who awaited him +with much anxiety. They had contrived to account for his absence to the lady +Edith, from whom they thought it necessary to hide the true state of affairs. +</p> + +<p> +But everything tended to increase Alfred’s feverish anxiety about his +brother. The relieving force could not arrive for hours; meanwhile he knew not +what to do. No tidings were heard: Father Swithin had failed and Elfric might +perhaps even now be dead. +</p> + +<p> +So Alfred, taking counsel only of his own brave, loving heart, left the priory +in the dusk, attended by the faithful Oswy, and walked towards his former home. +The night was dark and cloudy, the moon had not yet arisen, and they were close +upon the hall ere they saw its form looming though the darkness. Neither spoke, +but they paused before the drawbridge and listened. +</p> + +<p> +Sounds of uproarious mirth arose from within; Danish war songs, shouting and +cheering; the whole body of the invaders were evidently feasting and revelling +with that excess, of which in their leisure moments they were so capable. +</p> + +<p> +“It is well!” said Alfred; and they walked round the exterior of +the moat, marking the brightly lighted hall and the unguarded look of the +place; yet not wholly unguarded, for they saw the figure of a man outlined +against a bright patch of sky, pacing the leaded roof, evidently on guard. +</p> + +<p> +And now they had reached that portion of their circuit which led them opposite +the chamber window of the lamented Ella, and Alfred gazed sadly upon it, when +both he and Oswy started as they heard cries and moans, and sometimes +articulate words, proceeding therefrom. +</p> + +<p> +They listened eagerly, and caught the name “Dunstan,” as if uttered +in vehement fear, then the cry. “Water! I burn!” and cry after cry, +as if from one in delirium. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Elfric! it is Elfric!” said Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“It is my young lord’s voice,” said the thrall; “he is +in a fever from his wound.” +</p> + +<p> +“What can we do?” and Alfred walked impatiently to and fro; at last +he stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy! if it costs me my life I will enter the castle!” +</p> + +<p> +“It shall cost my life too, then. I will live and die with my +lord!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come here, Oswy; they do not know the little postern door hidden behind +those bushes; the passage leads up to the chapel, and to the gallery leading to +my father’s chamber, where Elfric lies dying. I remember that that door +was left unlocked, and perhaps I can save him. They are all feasting like hogs; +they will not know, and if Ragnar meet me, why, he or I must die;” and he +put his hand convulsively upon the sword which was dependent from his girdle. +</p> + +<p> +“Lead on, my lord; you will find your thrall ready to live or die with +you!” said Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +At the extreme angle of the building there was a large quantity of holly bushes +which grew out of the soil between the moat and the wall, which itself was +clothed with the thickest ivy; the roof above was slanting—an ordinary +timber roof covering the chapel —so that no sentinel could be overhead. +Standing on the further side of the moat, all this and no more could be +observed. +</p> + +<p> +The first difficulty was how to cross the moat in the absence of either bridge +or boat. It was true they might swim over; but in the event of their succeeding +in the rescue of Elfric, how were they to bear him back? The difficulty had to +be overcome, and they reflected a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a small boat down at the ferry,” whispered Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +It was all Alfred needed, and he and Oswy at once started for the river. They +returned in a few minutes, bearing a light boat, almost like a British coracle, +on which they instantly embarked, and a push or two with the pole sent them +noiselessly across the moat. +</p> + +<p> +They landed, made fast the boat, and searched in the darkness for the door; it +was an old portal, almost disused, for it was only built that there might be a +retreat in any such pressing emergency as might easily arise in those unsettled +times; the holly bushes in front, and the thick branches of dependent ivy, +concealed its existence from any person beyond the moat, and it had not even +been seen by the watchful eye of Ragnar. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred, however, had but recently made use of the door, when seeking bunches of +holly wherewith to deck the board on the occasion of the feast given to King +Edwy, and he had omitted to relock it on his return, an omission which now +seemed to him of providential arrangement. +</p> + +<p> +He had, therefore, only to turn the rusty latch as noiselessly as might be, and +the door slowly opened. The key was in the lock, on the inside. +</p> + +<p> +Entering cautiously, taking off their heavy shoes and leaving them in the +doorway, they ascended a flight of steps which terminated in front of a door +which entered the chapel underneath the bell cot, while another flight led +upwards to the gallery, from which all the principal chambers on the first +floor opened. +</p> + +<p> +Arriving at this upper floor, Alfred listened intently for one moment, and +hearing only the sounds of revelry from beneath, he opened the door gently, and +saw the passage lie vacant before him. +</p> + +<p> +He passed along it until he came to the door of his father’s chamber, +feeling the whole time that his life hung on a mere thread, upon the chance +that Ragnar and his warriors might remain out of the way, and that no one might +be near to raise the alarm. With nearly two hundred inmates this was but a poor +chance, but Alfred could dare all for his brother. He committed himself, +therefore, to God’s protection, and went firmly on till he reached the +door. +</p> + +<p> +He opened it with trembling eagerness, and the whole scene as we have already +described it was before him. Elfric sat up in the bed, uttering the cries which +had pierced the outer air. When Alfred entered he did not seem to know him, but +saluted him as “Dunstan.” His cries had become too familiar to the +present inmates of the hall for this to attract attention. Alfred closed the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“It is I, Elfric!—I, your brother Alfred!” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric stared vacantly, then fell back on the pillow: a moment only passed, and +then it was evident that an interval of silence had begun, during which the +patient only moaned. The noise from those who were feasting in the hall +beneath, which communicated with the gallery by a large staircase, was loud and +boisterous as ever. +</p> + +<p> +A step was heard approaching. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred took Oswy by the arm, and they both retired behind the tapestry, which +concealed a small recess, where garments were usually suspended. +</p> + +<p> +The heavy step entered the room, and its owner was evidently standing beside +the bed gazing upon the couch. There he remained stationary for some minutes, +and again left the room. It was not till the last sound had died away that +Alfred and Oswy ventured to leave their concealment. +</p> + +<p> +The silence still continued, save that it was sometimes broken by the +patient’s moans. +</p> + +<p> +“Take and wrap these clothes round him; we must preserve him from the +night air;” and they wrapped the blankets around him; then Oswy, who was +very strongly built, took the light frame of Elfric in his arms, and they left +the room. +</p> + +<p> +One moment of dread suspense—the passage was clear—a minute more +would have placed them in safety, when the paroxysm returned upon the +unfortunate Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Help, Edwy! Redwald, help! Dunstan has seized me, and is bearing me to +the fire! I burn! help, I burn!” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred groaned in his agony; the shrieking voice had been uttered just as they +passed the staircase leading down to the hall. Up rushed Ragnar, followed by +several of his men, and started back in amazement as he beheld Alfred and Oswy +with their burden. Alfred drew his sword to dispute the passage, but was +overpowered in a moment. Ragnar himself attacked Oswy, who was forced to +relinquish his burden. All was lost. +</p> + +<p> +Another moment and Ragnar confronted his prisoners. Elfric had been carried +back to his bed. Alfred and Oswy stood before him, their arms bound behind +them, in the great hall, while the soldiers retired at a signal a short +distance from them. +</p> + +<p> +“What has brought you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“To deliver my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“To share his fate, you mean. Know you into whose hands you have +fallen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; into those of my cousin Ragnar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you know what mercy to expect.” +</p> + +<p> +“I came prepared to share my brother’s fate.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you shall share it. It must be the hand of fate which has placed you +both in my power, me, the representative of the rightful lord of Æscendune, +dispossessed by your father, and being myself the legitimate heir.” +</p> + +<p> +“We do not dispute your title; give my brother his life and liberty, and +take all; we have never injured you.” +</p> + +<p> +“All would be nothing without vengeance; you appeal in vain to me. Did I +wish to spare you I could not; an oath, a fearful oath, binds me, taken to one +from whom I derived life, one whose death was far more agonising and lingering +than yours shall be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us at least die together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you scorn the company of your thrall in death?” +</p> + +<p> +“God forbid! +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy, you have given your life for us; we die in company. God protect my +poor mother, my poor childless mother! She will be alone!” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall die together as you desire.” +</p> + +<p> +He addressed a few words in an unknown tongue to his men; his face was now pale +as death, his lips compressed as of one who has taken a desperate resolution. +</p> + +<p> +“Retire to your brother’s chamber again. You will not compel me to +use force?” +</p> + +<p> +They retired up the stairs; Ragnar followed, two or three of his men at a +respectful distance from him. +</p> + +<p> +They re-entered the chamber; Ragnar followed and stood before them. +</p> + +<p> +“I will grant you all that is in my power; you shall all die together, +and you may tend your brother to the last.” +</p> + +<p> +“What shall be the manner of our death?” asked Alfred, who was very +calm, fearfully calm. +</p> + +<p> +“You will soon discover; my hand shall not be upon you, or red with your +blood. Believe me, I am, like you, the victim of stern necessity, although I am +the avenger, you the victims.” +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot thus deceive yourself, or shake off the guilt of murder; our +father’s blood is upon you. You will answer for this, for him and for us, +at the judgment seat.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am willing to do so, if there be a judgment seat whereat to answer. I +had a father, too, who was condemned to a lingering death, by thirst, hunger, +and madness; I witnessed his agonies; I swore to avenge them. You appeal to the +memory of your father, who has perished a victim to avenging justice; I appeal +to that of mine. If there be a God, let Him deliver you, and perhaps I will +believe in Him. Farewell for ever!” +</p> + +<p> +He closed the door, and, with the aid of his men, securely fastened it on the +outside, so that no strength from within could open it; he descended to the +hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Warriors,” he said, “the moment I predicted has come; I have +received a warning that the usurper Edgar already marches against us; tomorrow, +at the latest, he will be here; before he arrives we shall be halfway to +Wessex. Let every one secure his baggage and his plunder, and let the horses be +all got ready for a forced march. We have eaten the last feast that shall ever +be eaten in these halls.” +</p> + +<p> +A few moments of bustle and confusion followed, and before half-an-hour had +expired all was ready, and the men-at-arms from without announced that every +horse—their own and those of the thane, to carry their booty, the plunder +of the castle—awaited them without. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said he, “listen, my men, to the final orders. +<i>Fire the castle, every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, the +outbuildings.</i> We will leave a pile of blackened embers for Edgar when he +comes; the halls where the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be his, or +entertain him as a guest.” +</p> + +<p> +A loud shout signified the alacrity with which his followers bent themselves to +the task; torches flashed in all directions, and in a few moments the flames +began to do their destroying work. +</p> + +<p> +An officer addressed Ragnar—“There are three thralls locked up in +an outbuilding, shall we leave them to burn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay; why should we grudge them their miserable lives; they have done us +no harm.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a loud cry of dire alarm was heard, the trampling of an immense +body of horse followed—a rush into the hall already filled with +smoke—loud outcries and shrieks from without. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” cried Ragnar. +</p> + +<p> +“The Mercians are upon us! the Mercians are upon us!” +</p> + +<p> +Ragnar rushed to the gateway, and a sight met his startled eyes he was little +prepared to behold. +</p> + +<p> +The clouds had been driven away by a fierce wind, the moon was shining +brightly, and revealed a mighty host surrounding the hall on every side. Every +horse before the gateway was driven away or seized, every man who had not saved +himself by instant retreat had been slain by the advancing host; without orders +the majority of his men had repassed the moat, and had already raised the +drawbridge against the foe, not without the greatest difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +“Extinguish the fires which you have raised; let each man fight +fire—then we will fight the Mercians.” +</p> + +<p> +It was high time to fight fire, rather it was too late. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.<br/> +“VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY.”</h2> + +<p> +When the door was finally closed upon the brothers and their faithful thrall, +Alfred did not give way to despair. The words of Ragnar, “If there be a +God, let Him deliver you,” had sunk deeply into his heart, and had +produced precisely the opposite effect to that which his cousin had intended; +it seemed as if his cause were thus committed to the great Being in Whose Hand +was the disposal of all things; as if His Honour were at stake, Whom the +murderer had so impiously defied. +</p> + +<p> +“‘If there be a God, let Him deliver you,’” repeated +Alfred, and it seemed to him as if a Voice replied, “Is My Arm shortened, +that It cannot save?” +</p> + +<p> +But how salvation was to come, and even in what mode danger was to be expected, +was unknown to them; nay, was even unguessed. They heard the bustle below, +which followed Ragnar’s announcement of his intended departure from +Æscendune. They heard the mustering of the horses—and at last the +conviction forced itself upon them that the foe were about to evacuate the +hall. But in that case, how would he inflict his sentence upon his victims? +</p> + +<p> +The dread truth, the suspicion of his real intention, crept upon the minds of +both Alfred and Oswy. Elfric yet lay insensible, or seemingly so, upon the bed, +lost to all perception of his danger. Alfred sat at the head of the bed, +looking with brotherly love at the prostrate form of him for whom he was giving +his life; but feeling secretly grateful that there was no painful struggle +imminent in his case; that death itself would come unperceived, without +torturing forebodings. +</p> + +<p> +It was at this moment that Oswy, who stood by the window, which was strongly +barred, but which he had opened, for the night was oppressively warm, caught +the faint and distant sound of a mighty host advancing through the forest; at +first it was very faint, and he only heard it through the pauses in the storm +of sound which attended Ragnar’s preparations for departure, but it soon +became more distinct, and he turned to Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, my lord, they come to our aid; listen, I hear the army of +Edgar.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred rushed to the window, the hope of life strong within him; at first he +could hear nothing for the noise below, but at length there was a lull in the +confusion, and then he heard distinctly the sound of the coming deliverers. +Another minute, and he saw the dark lines leaving the shadow of the forest, and +descending the hill in serried array, then deploying, as if to surround a foe +in stealthy silence; he looked around for the object, and beheld Ragnar’s +forces all unconscious of their danger, not having heard the approach in their +own hasty preparations for departure. Another moment of dread suspense, like +that with which the gazer watches the dark thundercloud before the +lightning’s flash. A moment of dread silence—during which some +orders, given loudly below, forced themselves upon him: +</p> + +<p> +“Fire the castle, every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, the +outbuildings; we will leave a pile of blackened ruins for Edgar when he comes; +the halls where the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be his, or entertain +him as guest.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the dark forces, unseen by the destroyers, were still surrounding +the castle, deploying on all sides to surround it as in a net; for they saw the +intention of their victims, and meant to cut off all chance of escape. +</p> + +<p> +But the position of the brothers seemed as perilous as ever—for how could +Edgar’s troops rescue them if the place were once on fire? Alfred gazed +with pallid face upon Oswy, but met only a resigned helpless glance in return. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, even at this moment of awful suspense, a voice seemed to whisper in his +ear, “Stand still, and see the salvation of God.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy,” he exclaimed, “we shall not die—I feel sure +that God will save us!” +</p> + +<p> +“It must be soon then,” replied Oswy; “soon, my lord, for +they have already set the place on fire, just beneath us; can you not smell the +smoke?” +</p> + +<p> +Just at that moment came the war cry of the Mercians, and the charge we have +already described. +</p> + +<p> +It was during the following few minutes, while Ragnar and all his men were +vainly striving to extinguish the conflagration they had raised—for the +dry timber of which the hall was chiefly built had taken fire like +matchwood—it was while the friends without were preparing to attack, that +a sudden change came over the patient. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred, my brother!” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred looked round in surprise; consciousness had returned, and the face was +calm and possessed as his own. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, my dear Elfric!” +</p> + +<p> +“What does all this mean? How came I here? What makes this smoke?” +</p> + +<p> +“We are in danger, great danger; prisoners in our own house, which they +have set on fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember now—is not this our dear father’s room?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; we are prisoners in it, they have barred the door upon us.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they cannot bar us in: there is another door, Alfred; one my father +once pointed out to me, but told me to keep its existence a secret, as it +always had been kept. Who are without?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Mercians, Edgar’s army, come to deliver us; if we can reach +them, we are safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought they were our foes, but all seems strange now. Alfred, lift up +the tapestry which conceals the recess where dear father’s armour +hung.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred complied. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, just where the breastplate hung you will find a round knob of wood +like a peg.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Push it hard—no, harder.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred did so, and a concealed door flew open; he stepped through it with a cry +of joy, and found himself on the staircase leading up from the postern gate by +which he had entered, just below the closed door which led into the gallery +above. +</p> + +<p> +“God be thanked! we are saved—saved. Elfric! +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy, take him in your arms, quick! quick! I lead the way, and will get +the boat ready—door open and boat ready.” +</p> + +<p> +It was all the work of a moment; they were on the private staircase, carrying +Elfric, carefully wrapt up. The smoke had entered even here; the next moment +they were at the entrance. Happily the whole attention of Ragnar was +concentrated on self preservation. +</p> + +<p> +One more minute, and Elfric was placed in the coracle. The Mercians on the +further bank now observed them, and at first, not knowing them, seemed disposed +to treat them as foes; when Oswy cried aloud, “Spare your arrows; it is +Elfric of Æscendune;” and they crowded to the bank joyfully, for the +purpose of the attack was known to all, and now they saw its object placed +beyond the reach of further risk of failure. +</p> + +<p> +The coracle touched the further bank; a dozen willing hands assisted them up +the slope. And amidst shouts of vociferous joy and triumph they were conducted +to King Edgar, who hastened towards the scene with Siward. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, let the castle burn, let it burn,” said Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred, is it you?” exclaimed the young king; “just escaped +from the flames! How came you there? and this is Elfric; you have saved +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“God has delivered us.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have been the instrument; you must tell me all another time, get +him into shelter quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, men, bear him to the priory, while we stay to do our duty here. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred, you must not linger.” +</p> + +<p> +“One favour, my lord and king; show mercy to Ragnar, to Redwald, you know +not how sad his story has been.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave that to me; he shall have all he deserves;” and Alfred was +forced to be content. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, aroused by the shouts of joy, Ragnar, forgetting even his +danger, rushed to the roof. There he saw a crowd surrounding some object of +their joy; in the darkness of the night he could not distinguish more, but the +cry, “Long live Alfred of Æscendune!” arose spontaneously from the +crowd, just as the brothers departed. Faint with toil as he was, his heart +beating wildly with apprehension, he rushed to the chamber through smoke and +flame, for the tongues of fire were already licking the staircase. He withdrew +the bars, he rushed in, the room was empty. +</p> + +<p> +“It is magic, sorcery, witchcraft,” he groaned. +</p> + +<p> +But the remembrance of his last words, of his scornful defiance of God, came +back to him, and with it a conviction that he had indeed lifted up his arm +against the Holy One. He felt a sickening feeling of horror and despair rush +upon him, when loud cries calling him from beneath aroused him. +</p> + +<p> +“We must charge through them; we cannot burn here; we must die fighting +sword in hand, it is all that is left.” +</p> + +<p> +Not one voice spoke of surrender amongst those fierce warriors, or of seeking +mercy. +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed high time, for all efforts to extinguish the flames had proved +vain; every part of the castle was on fire; the fiery element streamed from the +lower windows, and curled upwards around the towers; it crackled and hissed in +its fury, and the atmosphere became unfit to breathe; it was like inhaling +flame. Sparks flew about in all directions, dense stifling smoke filled every +room. Not a man remained in the hall, when Redwald rushed down the gallery, +holding his breath, for the hot air scorched the lungs; when, just as he +arrived, the staircase fell with a huge crash, and the flames shot up in his +face, igniting hair and beard, and scorching his flesh. He rushed back to the +opposite end of the passage, only to meet another blast of fire and +smoke—for they had ignited the hall in twenty places at once; they had +done their work all too well. He rushed to the room he had left, shut the door +for a moment’s respite from flame and smoke, and then, springing at the +window, strove to tear the bars down, but all in vain. +</p> + +<p> +“There must be some egress. How did they escape? How could they +escape?” he cried; and he sought in vain for the exit, for they had +closed the door again, and he knew not where to look; in vain he lifted the +tapestry, he could not discover the secret; and at last, overpowered by the +heat, he sprang again to the window, and drank in deep draughts of fresh cool +air to appease the burning feeling in his throat. +</p> + +<p> +Crash! crash! part of the roof had given way, and the whole chamber trembled; +then a single tongue of flame shot up through the floor, then another; the door +had caught outside. Even in that moment he beheld his men, his faithful +followers, madly seeking death from the swords of the foe; they had lowered the +drawbridge, and dashed out without a leader. +</p> + +<p> +“Would I were with them!” he cried. “Oh, to die like +this!” +</p> + +<p> +“Behold,” cried a voice without, “he hath digged and graven a +pit, and is fallen himself into the destruction he made for others.” +</p> + +<p> +It was Father Swithin, who had observed the face at the window, and who raised +the cry which now drew all the enemy to gaze upon him, for they had no longer a +foe to destroy. +</p> + +<p> +The flames now filled the room, but still he clung to the window, and thus +protracted his torments; his foes, even the stern monk, could but pity him now, +so marred and blackened was his visage, so agonised his lineaments; like, as +they said, the rude pictures of the lost, where the last judgment was painted +on the walls of the churches. Yet he uttered no cry, he had resolved to die +bravely; all was lost now. Another moment, and those who watched saw the huge +beams which supported the building bend and quiver; then the whole framework +collapsed, and with a sound like thunder the roof tumbled in, and the unhappy +Ragnar was buried in the ruin; while the flames from his funeral pyre rose to +the very heavens, and the smoke blotted the stars from view. +</p> + +<p> +“Even so,” said the monk, solemnly, “let Thine enemies +perish, O Lord, but let them that love Thee be as the sun, when he goeth forth +in his might.” +</p> + +<p> +But those were not wanting who could not sympathise with the stern sentiment, +remembering better and gentler lessons from the lips of the great Teacher and +Master of souls. +</p> + +<p> +“He has passed into the Hands of his God, there let us leave him,” +said Father Cuthbert, who had just arrived at the moment. “It is not for +us to judge a soul which has passed to the judgment seat, and is beyond the +sentence of men.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, they had borne Elfric first to the priory, for they judged it not +well that he should yet be brought to his mother; they feared the sudden shock. +Many of the good monks had studied medicine, for they were in fact the healers +both of soul and body throughout the district, and they attended him with +assiduous care. They put him to bed, they gave him cordials which soon produced +quiet sleep, and watched by him for many hours. +</p> + +<p> +It was not till the day had far advanced that he awoke, greatly refreshed, and +saw Father Cuthbert and Alfred standing by him. They had allayed the fever, +bound up the wound, which was not in itself dangerous, and he looked more like +himself than one could have imagined possible. +</p> + +<p> +And now they thought they might venture to summon the lady Edith; and Alfred +broke the intelligence to her, for she knew not the events of the night. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother,” he said; “we have news of Elfric, both bad and +good, to tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“He lives then,” she said; “he lives!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, lives, and is near; but he was wounded badly in the battle.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must go to him,” she said, and arose, forgetting all possible +obstacles in a mother’s love. +</p> + +<p> +“He is near at hand, in the priory; you will find him much changed, but +they say he will do well.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook like an aspen leaf, and threw her garments around her with nervous +earnestness. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, mother, take my arm.” +</p> + +<p> +“O Alfred, may I not come, too?” said little Edgitha. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you may come too;” and they left the house. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric heard them approach, and sat up in his bed, Father Cuthbert supporting +him with his arm; while another visitor, Edgar himself, stood at the head of +the bed, but retired to give place to the mother, as if he felt no stranger +could then intrude, when the widow clasped her prodigal to her loving breast. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.<br/> +SOW THE WIND, AND REAP THE WHIRLWIND.</h2> + +<p> +When Alfred rebuilt the city of Winchester, after it had been burned by the +Danes, he erected a royal palace, which became a favourite retreat of his +successors. +</p> + +<p> +Here the unhappy Edwy retired after his defeat, to find consolation in the +company of Elgiva. Indeed he needed it. Northumbria had followed the example of +Mercia, and acknowledged Edgar, and he had no dominions left north of the +Thames, while it was rumoured that worse news might follow. +</p> + +<p> +In an inner chamber of the palace, and remote from intrusion, sat the king and +his chosen advisers. It was early in the year 958, a spring day when the sun +shone brightly and all things spoke of the coming summer—the songs of the +birds, the opening buds, the blossoming orchards. +</p> + +<p> +But peace was banished from those who sat in that council chamber. Edwy was +strangely disturbed, his face was flushed, and he bore evidence of the most +violent agitation. +</p> + +<p> +“It must come to that at last, my king,” exclaimed Cynewulf, +“or Wessex will follow the example of Mercia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better lose my crown then and become a subject, with a subject’s +liberty to love.” +</p> + +<p> +“A subject could never marry within the prohibited degree,” said a +grey-headed counsellor. +</p> + +<p> +“We have messengers from all parts of Wessex, from Kent, from Essex, from +Sussex, and they all unite in their demand that you should submit to the +Church, and put away (forgive me for repeating their words) your +concubine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Concubine!” said Edwy, and his cheek flushed, “she is my +wife and your queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, my liege, I did not make the word my own.” +</p> + +<p> +“You should not have dared to repeat it.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I dare, my lord, it is for your sake, and for our country, which is +dear to us all. Not an Englishman will acknowledge that your connection is +lawful; from Exeter to Canterbury the cry is the same—‘Let him +renounce Elgiva, and we will obey him; but we will not serve a king who does +not obey the voice of the Church or the laws of the land.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Laws of the land! The king is above the laws.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, my lord, he is bound to set the first example of obedience, chief +in that as in all things; an example to his people. Remember, my lord, your +coronation oath taken at Kingston three years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy flushed. “Is this a subject’s language?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the language of one who loves his king too well to flatter +him.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment an usher of the court knocked at the door, and obtaining +permission to enter, stated that Archbishop Odo had arrived, and demanded +admission to the council. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not see him,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“My liege,” exclaimed Athelwold, the old grey-headed counsellor we +have mentioned, “permit one who loves you, as he loved your revered +father, to entreat you to cease from this hopeless resistance. If you refuse to +see him you are no longer a king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will gladly abdicate.” +</p> + +<p> +“And become the scorn of Dunstan, and receive a retiring pension from +Edgar, and put your hand between his, kneeling humbly and saying ‘I am +your man.’” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no. Anything rather than that. Death first.” +</p> + +<p> +“All this may be averted with timely submission. Elgiva herself would not +counsel you to sacrifice all for her.” +</p> + +<p> +“O Athelwold, my father, the only one of my father’s counsellors +who has been faithful to his firstborn, what can I do? She is dearer to me than +life.” +</p> + +<p> +“But not than honour. You have both erred, both disobeyed the law of the +Church, both forgotten the example due from those in high places.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell Odo to enter,” exclaimed Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +The archbishop was close at hand, patiently awaiting the answer to his demand, +yet determined, in case of a refusal, to take his pastoral staff in his hand +and enter the council room, announced or not. A more determined priest had +never occupied the primacy, yet he was benevolent as determined, and, as we +have mentioned, was known as Odo the Good amongst the poor. Stern and +unyielding to the vices of the rich, he was gentle as a parent to the repentant +sinner. +</p> + +<p> +He had pronounced, as we have seen, the lesser excommunication,<a +href="#EndNoteB9sym" name="EndNoteB9anc"><sup>xxxi</sup></a> in consequence of +Edwy’s refusal to put away Elgiva, immediately after the coronation; +since which the guilty pair had never communicated at the altar, or even +attended mass. Their lives had been practically irreligious, nay idolatrous, +for they had been gods to each other. +</p> + +<p> +And now, in the full pomp of the archiepiscopal attire, with the mitre of St. +Augustine on his head and the crozier in his hand, Odo advanced, like one who +felt his divine mission, to the centre of the room. His cross bearer and other +attendants remained in the antechamber. +</p> + +<p> +“What dost thou seek, rude priest?” said Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“I am come in the Name of Him Whose laws thou hast broken, and speak to +thee as the Baptist to Herod. Put away this woman, for it is not lawful for +thee to have her.” +</p> + +<p> +“And would I could reply to thee as the holy fox Dunstan once informed me +Herod replied to the insolent Baptist, and send thine head on a charger to +Elgiva.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord! my liege! my king! Remember his sacred office,” +remonstrated the counsellors. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace, my lords. His threats or his blandishments would alike fail to +move me. The blood of Englishmen slain in civil war—if indeed any are +found to fight for an excommunicate king—is that which I seek to avert. +</p> + +<p> +“In the Name of my Master, Whom thou hast defied, O king, I offer thee +thy choice. Thou must put away thy concubine, or thou shalt sustain the greater +excommunication, when it will become unlawful for Christian people even to +speak with thee, or wish thee God speed, lest they be partakers of thy evil +deeds.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, you must yield,” whispered Cynewulf. +</p> + +<p> +“Son of the noble Edmund, thou must save thy father’s name from +disgrace.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot, will not, do Elgiva this foul wrong. I tell thee, priest, that +if thy benediction has never been pronounced upon our union, we are man and +wife before heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +“I await your answer,” said Odo. “Am I to understand you +choose the fearful penalty of excommunication?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay! nay! he does not; he cannot,” cried the counsellors. +“Your holiness!—father!—in the king’s name we +yield!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are all cowards and traitors! Let him do what he will, I cannot +yield.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, my lord king, I must proceed,” said Odo. “You have not +only acted wickedly in this matter, but you have misgoverned the people +committed to your charge, and broken every clause of your coronation oath. +First, you have not given the Church of God peace, or preserved her from +molestation, but have yourself ravaged her lands, and even slain her servants +with the sword; one, specially honoured of God, you sought to slay, sending +that wicked man, who has been called by fire to his judgment, to execute your +impious will.” +</p> + +<p> +“That holy fox Dunstan! Would Redwald had slain him!” muttered +Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“Secondly,” continued Odo, not heeding the interruption, “so +far from preventing thefts and fraud in all manner of men, you have maintained +notorious oppressors amongst your officers, and in your own person you have +broken the oath; for did you not even rob your aged grandmother, and consume +her substance in riotous living?” +</p> + +<p> +“What could the old woman do with it all?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thirdly, you have not maintained justice in your judicial proceedings, +but have spent all your time, like Rehoboam of old, with the young and giddy, +and in chastising your people with scorpions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would I had a scorpion to chastise you! This is unbearable. +</p> + +<p> +“My lords and counsellors, have you not a word to say for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said Athelwold, “it is all too true; but give up +Elgiva now, and all will be well!” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be at least the beginning of reformation,” said Odo. +</p> + +<p> +“And the end, I suppose,” said Edwy, “will be that I shall +shave my head like a monk, banquet sumptuously upon herbs and water, spend +three-fourths of the day singing psalms through my nose, wear a hair shirt, +look as starved as a weasel, and at last, after sundry combats with the devil, +pinch his nose, and go off to heaven in all the odour of sanctity. Go and +preach all this to Edgar; I am not fool enough to listen to it. You have got +him to be your obedient slave and vassal; you have bought him, body and soul, +and the price has been Mercia, and now you want to add Wessex. Well, I wish you +joy of him, and him of you all; for my part, if I could do it, I would restore +the worship of Odin and Thor, and offer you priests as bloody sacrifices to +him: I would!” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace, my lord and king! peace! this is horrible,” said Athelwold. +</p> + +<p> +“Horrible!” said another. “He is possessed. My lord Odo, you +had better exorcise him.” +</p> + +<p> +But Edwy had given way—he was young—and burst into a passionate fit +of weeping, his royal dignity all forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +“Give him time! give him time, father!” said they all. +</p> + +<p> +“One day; he must then submit, or I must do my duty; I have no +choice—none,” replied the archbishop. +</p> + +<p> +And the council sadly broke up; but Athelwold sought a private interview with +Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +It was the evening of the same day, and the fair Elgiva sat alone in her +apartment, into which the westering sun was casting his last beams of liquid +light; tears had stained her cheeks and reddened her eyes, but she looked +beautiful as ever, like the poet’s or painter’s conception of the +goddess of love. Around her were numerous evidences of a woman’s delicate +tastes, of tastes too in advance of her day. The harp, which Edwy had given her +the day of their inauspicious union, stood in one corner of the apartment; +richly ornamented manuscripts lay scattered about—not, as usual, legends +of the saints, and breviaries, but the writings of the heathen poets, +especially those who sang most of love: for she was learned in such lore. +</p> + +<p> +At last the well-known step was heard approaching, and her heart beat +violently. Edwy entered, his face bearing the traces of his mental struggle; he +threw himself down upon a couch, and did not speak for some few moments. She +arose and stood beside him. +</p> + +<p> +“Edwy, my lord, you are ill at ease.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am indeed, Elgiva; oh! if you knew what I have had to endure this +day!” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it all, my Edwy; you cannot sacrifice your Elgiva, but she can +sacrifice herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Elgiva! what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have to choose between your country and your wife; she has made the +choice for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Here she strove violently to repress her emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“Elgiva! you shall never go—never, never—it will break my +heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will break mine; but better hearts should break than that civil war +should desolate our country, or that you should be dethroned.” +</p> + +<p> +“No more of this, Elgiva; you shall not go, I swear it! come weal or woe. +Are we not man and wife? Have we not ever been faithful to each other?” +</p> + +<p> +“But this dreadful Church, my Edwy, which crushes men’s affections +and rules their intellects with a giant’s strength more fearful than the +fabled hammer of Thor. It crushed the sweet mythology of old, with all that +ministered to love, and substituted the shaveling, the nun, the monk; it has no +sympathy with poor hearts like ours; it is remorseless, as though it never knew +pity or fear. You must yield, my Edwy! we must yield!” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot,” he said; “we will fly the throne together.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where would you go? this Church is everywhere; who would receive an +excommunicate man?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot help it, Elgiva; say no more, it maddens me. Talk of our early +days, before this dark shadow fell upon us.” +</p> + +<p> +She took up her harp, as if, like David, she could thereby soothe the perturbed +spirit; but its sweet sounds woke no answer in his breast, and so the night +came upon them—night upon the earth, night upon their souls. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the morning she rose, strong in a woman’s affection, while Edwy +yet slept, and hastily arrayed herself; she looked around at her poor household +gods, at the harp, at the many tokens of his love. +</p> + +<p> +“It is for him!” she said. She imprinted her last kiss on his +sleeping forehead, she gazed upon him with fond, fond love; love had been her +all, her heaven: and then she opened the door noiselessly. +</p> + +<p> +Athelwold waited without. +</p> + +<p> +“Well done, noble girl!” he said; “thou keepest thy word +right faithfully.” +</p> + +<p> +She strove to speak, but could not; her pale bloodless lips would not frame the +words. Silently they descended the stairs; the dawn reddened the sky; a horse +with a lady’s equipments waited without, and a guide. +</p> + +<p> +The old thane slipped a purse of gold into her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“You will need it,” he said. “Where are you going? you have +not told us.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is better none should know,” she said; “I will decide my +route when without the city.” +</p> + +<p> +They never heard of her again.<a href="#EndNoteB10sym" +name="EndNoteB10anc"><sup>xxxii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +When Edwy awoke and found her gone he was at first frantic, and sent messengers +in all directions to bring her back; but when one after another came back +unsuccessful, he accepted the heroic sacrifice and submitted. +</p> + +<p> +Wessex, therefore, remained faithful to him, at least for a time, but Mercia +was utterly lost; and Edgar was recognised as the lawful king north of the +Thames, by all parties; friends and foes, even by Edwy himself. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.<br/> +“FOR EVER WITH THE LORD.”</h2> + +<p> +Many months had passed away since the destruction of the hall of Æscendune and +the death of the unhappy Ragnar, and the spring of 958 had well-nigh ended. +During the interval, a long and hard winter had grievously tried the shattered +constitution of Elfric. He had recovered from the fever and the effects of his +wound in a few weeks, yet only partially recovered, for the severe shock had +permanently injured his once strong health, and ominous symptoms showed +themselves early in the winter. His breathing became oppressed, he complained +of pains in the chest, and seemed to suffer after any exertion. +</p> + +<p> +These symptoms continued to increase in gravity, until his friends were +reluctantly compelled to recognise the symptoms of that insidious disease, so +often fatal in our English climate, which we now call consumption. +</p> + +<p> +It was long before they would admit as much; but when they saw how acutely he +suffered in the cold frosts; how he, who had once been foremost in every manly +exercise, was compelled to forego the hunt, and to allow his brother to +traverse the woods and enjoy the pleasures of the chase without him; how he +sought the fireside and shivered at the least draught; how a dry painful cough +continually shook his frame, they could no longer disguise the fact that his +days on earth might be very soon ended. +</p> + +<p> +There was one fact which astonished them. Although he had returned with avidity +to all the devotional habits in which he had been trained, yet he always +expressed himself unfit to receive the Holy Communion, and delayed to make that +formal confession of his sins, which the religious habits of the age imposed on +every penitent. +</p> + +<p> +Once or twice his fond mother, anxious for his spiritual welfare, pressed this +duty upon him; and Alfred, whom he loved, as well he might, most dearly, urged +the same thing, yet he always evaded the subject, or, when pressed, replied +that he fully meant to do so; in short, it was a matter of daily preparation, +but he could not come to be shriven yet. +</p> + +<p> +When the winter at last yielded, and the bright spring sun spoke of the +resurrection, when Lent was over, they hoped at least to see him make his +Easter communion, and their evident anxiety upon the subject at last brought +from him the avowal of the motives which actuated his conduct. +</p> + +<p> +It was Easter Eve, and Alfred had enticed him out to enjoy the balmy air of a +bright April afternoon. Close by the path they took, the hall was rapidly +rising to more than its former beauty, for not only had the theows and ceorls +all shown great alacrity in the work, but all the neighbouring thanes had lent +their aid. +</p> + +<p> +“It will be more beautiful than ever,” said Alfred, “but not +quite so homelike. Still, when you come of age, Elfric, it will be a happy home +for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will never be my home, Alfred.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must not speak so despondently. The bright springtide will soon +restore all your former health and vigour.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Alfred, no; the only home I look for is one where my poor shattered +frame will indeed recover its vigour, but it will not be the vigour or beauty +of this world. Do you remember the lines Father Cuthbert taught us the other +night? +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“‘Oh, how glorious and resplendent,<br/> + Fragile body, shalt thou be,<br/> +When endued with so much beauty,<br/> + Full of health, and strong and free,<br/> +Full of vigour, full of pleasure.<br/> + That shall last eternally.’ +</p> + +<p> +“It will not be of earth, though, my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred was silent; his emotions threatened to overcome him. He could not bear +to think that he should lose Elfric, although the conviction was gradually +forcing itself upon them all. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred,” continued the patient, “it is of no use deceiving +ourselves. I have often thought it hard to leave this beautiful world, for it +is beautiful after all, and to leave you who have almost given your life for +me, and dear mother, little Edgitha, and Father Cuthbert; but God’s Will +must be done, and what He wills must be best for us. No; this bright Easter +tide is the last I shall see on earth; but did not Father Cuthbert say that +heaven is an eternal Easter?” +</p> + +<p> +So the repentant prodigal spoke, according to the lessons the Church had taught +him. Superstitious in many points that Church of our forefathers may have been, +yet how much living faith had its home therein will never be fully known till +the judgment. +</p> + +<p> +“And when I look at that castle,” Elfric continued, “our own +hall of Æscendune, rising from its ashes, I picture to myself how you will +marry some day and be happy there; how our dear mother will see your children +growing up around her knee, and teach them as she taught you and me; how, +perhaps, you will name one after me, and there shall be another Elfric, gay and +happy as the old one, but, I hope, ten times as good; and you will not let him +go to court, I am sure, Alfred.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred did not answer; he could not command his composure. +</p> + +<p> +“And when you all come to the priory church on Sundays, and Father +Cuthbert, or whoever shall come after him, sings the mass, you will remember me +and breathe my name in your prayers when they say the memento for the faithful +dead; and again, there shall be little children learning their paters and their +sweet little prayers, as you and I learned them at our mother’s knee: and +you will show them my tomb, where I shall rest with dear father, and perhaps my +story may be a warning to them. But you must never forget to show them how +brotherly love was stronger than death when the old hall was burnt. +</p> + +<p> +“After all,” he continued, “our separation won’t be +long, the longest day comes to an end, and a thousand years are with Him as one +day. We shall all be united at last—father, mother, Alfred, Edgitha, +Elfric. Do you not hear the Easter bells?” +</p> + +<p> +They retraced their steps to the priory church for the services of Easter Eve. +</p> + +<p> +“And one thing more, dear Alfred; you think me a strange penitent, that I +am long, very long, before I make my confession. You do not know how I sigh for +Communion; it is three years since I communicated, nearly four. But, Alfred, +there is one who tried to stop me when I began going downward, downward, and I +feel as if I must have his forgiveness before I can communicate, and it is to +him I want to make my last confession. You know whom I mean; he is in England +now and near.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now you know my secret, let us go into church.” +</p> + +<p> +Oh, how sweetly those Easter psalms and lessons spoke to Alfred and Elfric that +night; how sweetly the tidings of a risen Saviour sounded in their ears. Easter +joy was joy indeed. The very heavens seemed brighter that night, the +moon—the Paschal moon—seemed to gladden the earth and render it a +Paradise, like that happy Eden of old times, before sin entered its holy +seclusion. +</p> + +<p> +Easter tide was over, and Ascension drew near, but the sweet month of May had +done little to restore health to poor Elfric. He had scarcely ever had a day +free from pain. His eye was brighter than ever, but his attenuated face told a +sad tale of the decay of the vital power. +</p> + +<p> +From the time that Alfred knew how his brother yearned for Dunstan’s +forgiveness, and that he would be shriven by none but him, he had sought to +accomplish his wish. He heard that Dunstan had returned from abroad, and was +about to be consecrated Bishop of Worcester, and to be their own diocesan, and +he sought an early opportunity of seeing him. +</p> + +<p> +At last, but not until after Dunstan’s consecration, he gained the +opportunity, not without much delay; for Dunstan was sometimes in Worcester, +sometimes in London, which had thrown off Edwy’s authority, and +submitted, with all Essex, to Edgar; sometimes ordaining, sometimes confirming, +sometimes assisting Edgar in the government; and he was, like all other great +men, very inaccessible. +</p> + +<p> +At last Alfred learned that he would be in Worcester by a certain day, and he +started at once for that city. He arrived there after a tedious journey; the +roads were very difficult, and when he reached the city he heard the cathedral +bells, and went at once to the high mass, for it was a festival. There he saw +Dunstan as he had seen him before at Glastonbury, at the altar, amidst all the +solemn pomp in which our ancestors robed the sacred office. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately after the service he repaired to the palace, and put in his name. +Numbers, like himself, were awaiting an audience, but only a few minutes had +passed ere an usher came into the antechamber and informed him that Dunstan +requested his immediate presence. +</p> + +<p> +He followed the usher amidst the envy of many who had the prospect of a long +detention ere they could obtain the same favour, and soon he had clasped +Dunstan’s hand and knelt for his blessing. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay! rise up, my son, it is thine: <i>Deus benedicat et custodiat te, in +omnibus viis tuis</i>. Thinkest thou, my son, thy name has been forgotten in my +poor prayers? God made thee His instrument, but thou wast a very very willing +one; and now, my son, wherein can I serve thee? Thou hast but to speak.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus encouraged, Alfred told all his tale, and Dunstan listened with much +emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet two days and I will be with you at Æscendune. Go back and comfort +thy brother; he shall indeed have my forgiveness, and happy shall I be as an +ambassador of Christ to fulfil the blessed office of restoring the lost sheep +to the fold, the prodigal to his Heavenly Father.” +</p> + +<p> +When Alfred returned to Æscendune he found Elfric eagerly awaiting him; he had +not been so well in the absence of his brother, and every one saw symptoms of +the coming end. +</p> + +<p> +Still he seemed so happy when Alfred delivered his message that every one +remarked it, and that evening he sat up later than usual, listening as Father +Cuthbert read for the hundredth time his favourite story from King +Alfred’s Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels, the parable of the prodigal +son, which had filled his mind on the night after the battle; then he spoke to +his mother about past days, before a cloud came between him and his home; and +talked of his father, and of the little incidents of early youth. Always +loving, he was more so than usual that night, as if he felt time was short in +which to show a son’s love. +</p> + +<p> +That night his mother came, as she always came, when he was asleep, to his +chamber to gaze upon him, when she was struck by the difficulty of his +breathing; she felt alarmed when she saw the struggles he seemed to make for +breath, and saw the damp sweat upon his brow, so she called Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred saw at once that his brother was seriously worse, and summoned Father +Cuthbert, who no sooner gazed upon him than he exclaimed that the end was near. +</p> + +<p> +During all that night he breathed heavily and with difficulty, as if each +breath would be the last. Towards morning, however, he rallied, and immediate +danger seemed gone, although only for a short time. +</p> + +<p> +He sat up for the last time that day. It was a lovely day in May, and in the +heat of the day he seemed to drink in the sweet atmosphere, as it came gently +through the open window, laden with the scents of a hundred flowers. Often his +lips moved as if in prayer, and sometimes he spoke to his brother, and asked +when Dunstan would come; but he was not equal to prolonged conversation. +</p> + +<p> +At length one of the ceorls came riding in to say that the Bishop, with his +retinue, was approaching the village, and Father Cuthbert went out to meet him. +The impatient anxiety of poor Elfric became painful to witness. +</p> + +<p> +“He is coming, Elfric! he is coming!” said Alfred from the window. +“I see him near; see! he stops to salute Father Cuthbert, whom he knew +years ago; I must go down to receive him. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother! You stay with Elfric.” +</p> + +<p> +A sound as of many feet; another moment, a firm step was heard upon the stairs, +and Dunstan entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +He advanced to the bed, while all present stood in reverent silence, and gazed +upon the patient with a look of such affection as a father might bestow upon a +dying son as he took the weak nerveless hand. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric looked round with a mute appeal which they all comprehended, and left +him alone with Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +“Father, pardon me!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou askest pardon of me, my son—of me, a sinner like thyself; I +cannot tell thee how freely I give it thee; and now, my son, unburden thyself +before thy God, for never was it known that one pleaded to Him and was cast +out.” +</p> + +<p> +When, after an interval, Dunstan summoned the lady Edith and Alfred back into +the room, a look of such calm, placid composure, such satisfied happiness, sat +upon his worn face, that they never forgot it. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely,” thought they, “such is the expression the blessed +will wear in heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +And then, in their presence, Dunstan administered the Blessed Sacrament of the +Body and Blood of Christ to the happy penitent; it was the first Communion +which he had willingly made since he first left home, a bright happy boy of +fifteen; and words would fail to describe the deep faith and loving penitence +with which he gathered his dying strength to receive the Holy Mysteries. +</p> + +<p> +And then Dunstan administered the last of all earthly rites—the holy +anointing;<a href="#EndNoteB11sym" name="EndNoteB11anc"><sup>xxxiii</sup></a> +while amidst their tears the mourners yet thought of Him Who vouchsafed to be +anointed before He sanctified the grave to be a bed of hope to His people. +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou happy now, my son?” said Dunstan, when all was over. +</p> + +<p> +“Happy indeed! happy! yes, so happy!” +</p> + +<p> +They were almost the last words he said, until an hour had passed and the sun +had set, leaving the bright clouds suffused in rich purple, when he sat up in +the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother! Alfred!” he said, “do you hear that music? Many are +singing; surely that was father’s voice. Oh! how bright!” +</p> + +<p> +He fell back, and Dunstan began the solemn commendatory prayer, for he saw the +last moment was come. +</p> + +<p> +“Go forth, O Christian soul, from this world, in the name of God the +Father Who hath created thee, of God the Son Who hath redeemed thee, of God the +Holy Ghost Who hath been poured out upon thee; and may thy abode be this day in +peace, in the heavenly Sion, through Jesus Christ thy Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +It was over! Over that brief but eventful life! Over all the bright hopes which +had centred on him in this world; but the battle was won, and the eternal +victory gained. +</p> + +<p> +We have little more to add to our tale; the remainder is matter of history. The +real fate of the unhappy Elgiva is not known, for the legend which represents +her as suffering a violent death at the hands of the partisans of Edgar or Odo +rests upon no solid foundation, but is repugnant to actual facts of history. +Let us hope that she found the only real consolation in that religion she had +hitherto, unhappily, despised, but which may perhaps have come to her aid in +adversity. +</p> + +<p> +The unhappy Edwy sank from bad to worse. When Elgiva was gone he seemed to have +nothing to live for; he yielded himself up to riotous living to drown care, +while his government became worse and worse. Alas, he never repented, so far as +we can learn, and the following year he died at Gloucester—some said of a +broken heart, others of a broken constitution—in the twentieth year only +of his age. +</p> + +<p> +Poor unhappy Edwy the Fair! Yet he had been his own worst enemy. Well has it +been written: +</p> + +<p> +“Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, +and in the sight of thine eyes; but know thou that for all these things God +will bring thee into judgment.” +</p> + +<p> +Edgar succeeded to the throne, and all England acknowledged him as lord; while +under Dunstan’s wise administration the land enjoyed peace and plenty +unexampled in Anglo-Saxon annals. Such was Edgar’s power, that more than +three thousand vessels kept the coast in safety, and eight tributary kings did +him homage. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred became in due course Thane of Æscendune, and his widowed mother lived +to rejoice in his filial care many a long year, while the dependants and serfs +blessed his name as they had once blessed that of his father. +</p> + +<p> +“The boy is the father of the man” it has been well said, and it +was not less true than usual in this case. A bright pure boyhood ushered in a +manhood of healthful vigour and bright intellect. +</p> + +<p> +Children grew up around him after his happy marriage with Alftrude, the +daughter of the thane of Rollrich. The eldest boy was named Elfric, and was +bright and brave as the Elfric of old. Need we say he never went to court, +although Edgar would willingly have numbered him in the royal household. Truly, +indeed, were fulfilled the words which the Elfric of old had spoken on that +Easter eve. To his namesake, and to all that younger generation, the memory of +the uncle they had never seen was surrounded by a mysterious halo of light and +love; and when they said their prayers around his tomb, it seemed as if he were +still one of themselves—sharing their earthly joys and sorrows. +</p> + +<p> +And here we must leave them—time passing sweetly on, the current of their +lives flowing softly and gently to the mighty ocean of eternity: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Where the faded flower shall freshen,<br/> + Freshen never more to fade;<br/> +Where the shaded sky shall brighten,<br/> + Brighten never more to shade.”<br/> + <i>Bonar</i>. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +THE END. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Footnotes</h2> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA1anc" name="EndNoteA1sym">i</a> For authorities for his +various statements the Author must beg to refer his readers to the notes at the +end of the volume. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA2anc" name="EndNoteA2sym">ii</a> Homilies in the Anglo-Saxon +Church +</p> + +<p> +“The mass priest, on Sundays and mass days, shall speak the sense of the +Gospel to the people in English, and of the Paternoster, and of the Creed, as +often as he can, for the inciting of the people to know their belief, and to +retain their Christianity. Let the teacher take heed of what the prophet says, +‘They are dumb dogs, and cannot bark.’ We ought to bark and preach +to laymen, lest they should be lost through ignorance. Christ in His gospel +says of unlearned teachers, ‘If the blind lead the blind, they both fall +into the ditch.’ The teacher is blind that hath no book learning, and he +misleads the laity through his ignorance. Thus are you to be aware of this, as +your duty requires.”—23d Canon of Elfric, about A.D. 957. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric was then only a private monk in the abbey of Ahingdon, and perhaps +composed these canons for the use of Wulfstan, Bishop of Dorchester, with the +assistance of the abbot, Ethelwold. They commence “Ælfricus, humilis +frater, venerabili Episcopo Wulfsino, salutem in Domino.” Others think +this “Wulfsinus” was the Bishop of Sherborne of that name. Elfric +became eventually Archbishop of Canterbury, A.D. 995-1005, dying at an advanced +age. No other English name before the Conquest is so famous in literature. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA3anc" name="EndNoteA3sym">iii</a> Services of the Church. +</p> + +<p> +“It concerns mass priests, and all God’s servants, to keep their +churches employed with God’s service. Let them sing therein the +seven-tide songs that are appointed them, as the Synod earnestly +requires—that is, the uht song (matins); the prime song (seven A.M.); the +undern song (terce, nine A.M.); the midday song (sext); the noon song (nones, +three P.M.); the even song (six P.M.); the seventh or night song (compline, +nine P.M.)”—19th Canon of Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +It is not to be supposed that the laity either were expected to attend, or +could attend, all these services, which were strictly kept in monastic bodies; +but it would appear that mass, and sometimes matins and evensong, or else +compline, were generally frequented. And these latter would be, as represented +in the text, the ordinary services in private chapels. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA4anc" name="EndNoteA4sym">iv</a> Battle of Brunanburgh. +</p> + +<p> +In this famous battle, the English, under their warlike king, defeated a most +threatening combination of foes; Anlaf, the Danish prince, having united his +forces to those of Constantine, King of the Scots, and the Britons, or Welsh of +Strathclyde and Cambria. So proud were the English of the victory, that their +writers break into poetry when they come to that portion of their annals. Such +is the case with the writer of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, from whom the +following verses are abridged. They have been already partially quoted in the +text. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Here Athelstane king,<br/> +Of earls the lord,<br/> +To warriors the ring-giver,<br/> +Glory world-long<br/> +Had won in the strife,<br/> +By edge of the sword,<br/> +At Brunanburgh.<br/> +The offspring of Edward,<br/> +The departed king,<br/> +Cleaving the shields.<br/> +Struck down the brave.<br/> +Such was their valour,<br/> +Worthy of their sires,<br/> +That oft in the strife<br/> +They shielded the land<br/> +‘Gainst every foe.<br/> +The Scottish chieftains,<br/> +The warriors of the Danes,<br/> +Pierced through their mail,<br/> +Lay dead on the field.<br/> +The field was red<br/> +With warriors’ blood,<br/> +What time the sun,<br/> +Uprising at morn,<br/> +The candle of God,<br/> +Ran her course through the heavens;<br/> +Till red in the west<br/> +She sank to her rest.<br/> +Through the live-long day<br/> +Fought the people of Wessex,<br/> +Unshrinking from toil,<br/> +While Mercian men,<br/> +Hurled darts by their side.<br/> +Fated to die<br/> +Their ships brought the Danes,<br/> +Five kings and seven earls,<br/> +All men of renown,<br/> +And Scots without number<br/> +Lay dead on the field.<br/> +Constantine, hoary warrior,<br/> +Had small cause to boast.<br/> +Young in the fight,<br/> +Mangled and torn,<br/> +Lay his son on the plain.<br/> +Nor Anlaf the Dane<br/> +With wreck of his troops,<br/> +Could vaunt of the war<br/> +Of the clashing of spears.<br/> +Or the crossing of swords,<br/> +with the offspring of Edward.<br/> +The Northmen departed<br/> +In their mailed barks,<br/> +Sorrowing much;<br/> +while the two brothers,<br/> +The King and the Etheling,<br/> +To Wessex returned,<br/> +Leaving behind<br/> +The corpses of foes<br/> +To the beak of the raven,<br/> +The eagle and kite,<br/> +And the wolf of the wood. +</p> + +<p> +The Chronicle simply adds, “A.D. 937.—This year King Athelstan, and +the Etheling Edmund, his brother, led a force to Brimanburgh, end there fought +against Anlaf, and, Christ helping them, they slew five kings and seven +earls.” +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA5anc" name="EndNoteA5sym">v</a> Murder of Edmund. +</p> + +<p> +A certain robber named Leofa, whom Edmund had banished for his crimes, +returning after six years’ absence, totally unexpected, was sitting, on +the feast of St. Augustine, the apostle of the English, and first Archbishop of +Canterbury, among the royal guests at Pucklechurch, for on this day the English +were wont to regale, in commemoration of their first preacher; by chance, too, +he was placed near a nobleman, whom the king had condescended to make his +guest. This, while the others were eagerly carousing, was perceived by the king +alone; when, hurried with indignation, and impelled by fate, he leaped from the +table, caught the robber by the hair, and dragged him to the floor; but he, +secretly drawing a dagger from its sheath, plunged it with all his force into +the breast of the king as he lay upon him. Dying of the wound, he gave rise +over the whole kingdom to many fictions concerning his decease. The robber was +shortly torn limb from limb by the attendants who rushed in, though he wounded +some of them ere they could accomplish their purpose. St. Dunstan, at that time +Abbot of Glastonbury, had foreseen his ignoble end, being fully persuaded of it +from the gesticulations and insolent mockery of a devil dancing before him. +Wherefore, hastening to court at full speed, he received intelligence of the +transaction on the road. By common consent, then, it was determined that his +body should be brought to Glastonbury, and there magnificently buried in the +northern part of the tower. That such had been his intention, through his +singular regard for the abbot, was evident from particular circumstances. The +village, also, where he was murdered, was made a offering for the dead, that +the spot, which had witnessed his fall, might ever after minister aid to his +soul,—William of Malmesbury, B, ii. e. 7, Bohn’s Edition. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA6anc" name="EndNoteA6sym">vi</a> A. D. 556—Anglo-Saxon +Chronicle. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA7anc" name="EndNoteA7sym">vii</a> Wulfstan, and the See of +Dorchester. +</p> + +<p> +When Athelstane was dead, the Danes, both in Northumberland and Mercia, +revolted against the English rule, and made Anlaf their king. Archbishop +Wulfstan, then of York, sided with them, perhaps being himself of Danish blood. +The kingdom was eventually divided between Edmund and Aulaf, until the death of +the latter. When Edred ascended the throne—after the murder of Edmund, +who had, before his death, repossessed himself of the whole +sovereignty—the wise men of Northumberland, with Wulfstan at their head, +swore submission to him, but in 948 rebelled and chose for their king Eric of +Denmark. Edred marched at once against them, and subdued the rebellion with +great vigour, not to say riqour. He threw the archbishop into prison at +Jedburgh in Bernicia. After a time he was released, but only upon the condition +of banishment from Northumbria, and he was made Bishop of Dorchester, a place +familiar to the tourist on the Thames, famed for the noble abbey church which +still exists, and has been grandly restored. +</p> + +<p> +Although Dorchester is now only a village, it derives its origin from a period +so remote that it is lost in the mist of ages. It was probably a British +village under the name Cair Dauri, the camp on the waters; and coins of +Cunobelin, or Cassivellaunus, have been found in good preservation. Bede +mentions it as a Roman station, and Richard of Cirencester marks it as such in +the xviii. Iter, under the name Durocina. +</p> + +<p> +Its bishopric was founded by Birinus, the apostle of the West Saxons; and the +present bishoprics of Winchester, Salisbury, Exeter, Bath and Wells, Worcester +and Hereford, were successively taken from it, after which it still extended +from the Thames to the Humber. +</p> + +<p> +Suffering grievously from the ravages of the Danes, it became a small town, and +it suffered again grievously at the Conquest, when the inhabited houses were +reduced by the Norman ravages from 172 to 100, and perhaps the inhabitants were +reduced in proportion. In consequence, Remigius, the first Norman bishop, +removed the see to Lincoln, because Dorchester, on account of its size and +small population, did not suit his ideas, as John of Brompton observes. From +this period its decline was rapid, in spite of its famous abbey, which Remigius +partially erected with the stones from the bishop’s palace. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA8anc" name="EndNoteA8sym">viii</a> Anglo-Saxon Literature. +</p> + +<p> +In the age of Bede, the eighth century, Britain was distinguished for its +learning; but the Danish invasions caused the rapid decline of its renown. +</p> + +<p> +The churches and monasteries, where alone learning flourished, and which were +the only libraries and schools, were the first objects of the hatred of the +ferocious pagans; and, in consequence, when Alfred came to the throne, as he +tells us in his own words—“South of the Humber there were few +priests who could understand the meaning of their common prayers, or translate +a line of Latin into English; so few, that in Wessex there was not one.” +Alfred set himself diligently to work to correct this evil. Nearly all the +books in existence in England were in Latin, and it was a “great” +library which contained fifty copies of these. There was a great objection to +the use of the vernacular in the Holy Scriptures, as tending to degrade them by +its uncouth jargon; but the Venerable Bede had rendered the Gospel of St. John +into the Anglo-Saxon, together with other extracts from holy Scripture; and +there were versions of the Psalter in the vulgar tongue, very rude and uncouth; +for ancient translators generally imagined a translation could only be faithful +which placed all the words of the vulgar tongue in the same relative positions +as the corresponding words in the original. An Anglo-Saxon translation upon +this plan is extant. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred had taught himself Latin by translating: there were few vocabularies, +and only the crabbed grammar of old Priscian. Shaking himself free from the +trammels we have enumerated, he invited learned men from abroad, such as his +biographer, Asser, and together they attempted a complete version of the Bible. +Some writers suppose the project was nearly completed, others, that it was +interrupted by his early death. Still, translations were multiplied of the +sacred writings, and the rubrics show that they were read, as described in the +text, upon the Sundays and festivals. From that time down to the days of +Wickliffe, England can boast of such versions of the sacred Word as can hardly +be paralleled in Europe. +</p> + +<p> +The other works we have mentioned were also translated by or for Alfred. +“The Chronicle of Orosius,” a history of the world by a Spaniard of +Seville; “The History of the Venerable Bede;” “The +Consolations of Philosophy,” by Boethius; “Narratives from Ancient +Mythology;” “The Confessions of St. Augustine;” “The +Pastoral Instructions of St. Gregory;” and his “Dialogue,” +form portions of the works of this greatest of kings, and true father of his +people. His “Apologues,” imitated from Æsop, are unfortunately +lost. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA9anc" name="EndNoteA9sym">ix</a> The Court of Edred. +</p> + +<p> +All the early chroniclers appear to take a similar view of the character and +court of Edred. William of Malmesbury says—“The king devoted his +life to God, and to St. Dunstan, by whose admonition he bore with patience his +frequent bodily pains, prolonged his prayers, and made his palace altogether +the school of virtue.” But although pious, he was by no means wanting in +manly energy, as was shown by his vigorous and successful campaign in +Northumbria, on the occasion of the attempt to set Eric, son of Harold, on the +throne of Northumbria. The angelic apparition to St. Dunstan, mentioned in +chapter VII, is told by nearly all the early historians, but with varying +details. According to many, it occurred while Dunstan was hastening to the aid +of Edred. The exigencies of the tale required a slightly different treatment of +the legend. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA10anc" name="EndNoteA10sym">x</a> Confession in the +Anglo-Saxon Church. +</p> + +<p> +“On the week next before holy night shall every one go to his shrift +(i.e. confessor), and his shrift shall shrive him in such a manner as his deeds +which he hath done require and he shall charge all that belong to his district +that if any of them have discord with any, he make peace with him; if any one +will not be brought to this, then he shall not shrive him; [but] then he shall +inform the bishop, that he may convert him to what is right, if he he willing +to belong to God: then all contentions and disputes shall cease, and if there +be any one of them that hath taken offence at another, then shall they be +reconciled, that they may the more freely say in the Lord’s Prayer, +‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against +us,’ etc. And having thus purified their minds, let them enter upon the +holy fast-tide, and cleanse themselves by satisfaction against holy Easter, for +this satisfaction is as it were a second baptism. As in Baptism the sins before +committed are forgiven, so, by satisfaction, are the sins committed after +Baptism.” Theodulf’s Canons, A.D. 994 (Canon 36). +</p> + +<p> +It is evident, says Johnson, that “holy night” means “lenten +night,” as the context shows. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA11anc" name="EndNoteA11sym">xi</a> Incense in the Anglo-Saxon +Church. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Rock, in his “Hierurgia Anglicans,” states that incense was +used at the Gospel. In vol. i., quoting from Ven. Bede, he writes +—“Conveniunt omnes in ecclesium B. Petri ipse (Ceolfridas Abbas) +thure incenso, et dicto oratione, ad altare pacem dat omnibus, stans in +gradibus, thuribulum habens in menu.” In Leofric’s Missal is a form +for the blessing of incense. Theodore’s Penitential also affixes a +penance to its wilful or careless destruction. Ven. Bede on his deathbed gave +away incense amongst his little parting presents, as his disciple, Cuthbert, +relates. Amongst the furniture of the larger Anglo-Saxon churches was a huge +censer hanging from the roof, which emitted fumes throughout the mass. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Hic quoque thuribulum, capitellis undique cinctum,<br/> +Pendet de summo, fumosa foramina pandens:<br/> +De quibus ambrosia spirabunt thura Sabæa,<br/> +Quando sacerdotes missas offerre jubentur.”<br/> +Alcuini <i>Opera</i>, B. ii,, p. 550. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA12anc" name="EndNoteA12sym">xii</a> Psalm xxi. 3. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA13anc" name="EndNoteA13sym">xiii</a> “All were +indignant at the shameless deed, and murmured amongst themselves,” +—William of Malmesbury. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA14anc" name="EndNoteA14sym">xiv</a> The Welsh were driven +from Exeter by King Athelstane; before that time, Englishmen and Welsh had +inhabited it with equal rights. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA15anc" name="EndNoteA15sym">xv</a> The earliest inhabitants +of Ireland were called Scots. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA16anc" name="EndNoteA16sym">xvi</a> Legends about St. +Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a great pity,” says Mr. Freeman, in his valuable “Old +English History,” “that so many strange stories are told about him +[Dunstan], because people are apt to think of those stories and not of his real +actions.” This has indeed been the case to such an extent that his +talents, as a statesman and as an ecclesiastical legislator, are almost unknown +to many who are very familiar with the story of his seizing the devil by the +nose with a pair of tongs. Sir Francis Palgrave supposes that St. +Dunstan’s seclusion at the time had led him to believe, like so many +solitaries, that he was attacked in person by the fiend, and that he related +his visions, which were accepted as absolute facts by his credulous hearers. +Hence the author has assumed the currency of some of these marvellous legends +in his tale, and has introduced a later one into the text of the present +chapter. But the whole life of the saint, as related by his monkish +biographers, is literally full of such legends, some terrible, some ludicrous. +One of the most remarkable deserves mention, bearing, as it does, upon our +tale. It is said that he learned that Edwy was dead, and that the devils were +about to carry off his soul in triumph, when, falling to fervent prayer, he +obtained his release. A most curious colloquy between the abbot and the devils +on this subject may be found in Osberne’s “Life of Dunstan.” +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA17anc" name="EndNoteA17sym">xvii</a> The Benedictine Rule. +</p> + +<p> +St. Benedict, the founder of the great Benedictine Order, was born in the +neighbourhood of Nursia, a city of Italy, about A.D. 480. Sent to study at +Rome, he was shocked at the vices of his fellow students, ran away from the +city, and shut himself up in a hermitage, where he resigned himself to a life +of the strictest austerity. Three years he spent in a cave near Subiaco, about +forty miles from Rome, where he was so removed from society that he lost all +account of time. He did not, however, lead an idle life of self contemplation; +he instructed the shepherds of he neighbourhood, and such were the results of +his instruction that his fame spread widely, until, the abbot of a neighbouring +monastery dying, the brethren almost compelled him to become their superior, +but, not liking the reforms he introduced, subsequently endeavoured to poison +him, whereupon he returned to his cave, where, as St. Gregory says, “he +dwelt with himself” and became more celebrated than ever. After this the +number of his disciples increased so greatly, that, emerging from his solitude, +he built twelve monasteries, in each of which he placed twelve monks under a +superior, finally laying the foundation of the great monastery of Monte +Cassino, which has ever since been regarded as the central institution of the +order. +</p> + +<p> +Here was drawn up the famous Benedictine rule, which was far more adapted than +any other code to prevent the cloister from becoming the abode of idleness or +lascivious ease. To the three vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, was +added the obligation of manual labour, the brethren being required to work with +their hands at least seven hours daily. The profession for life was preceded by +a novitiate of one year, during which the rule was deeply studied by the +novice, that the life vow might not be taken without due consideration. The +colour of the habit was usually dark, hence the brethren were called the Black +Monks. +</p> + +<p> +St. Benedict died of a fever, which he caught in ministering to the poor, on +the eve of Passion Sunday, A.D. 543. Before his death, the houses of the order +were to be found in all parts of Europe, and by the ninth century it had become +general throughout the Church, almost superseding all other orders. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA18anc" name="EndNoteA18sym">xviii</a> The Roman Roads. +</p> + +<p> +Roman roads were thus constructed: Two shallow trenches were dug parallel to +each other, marking the breadth of the proposed road; the loose earth was +removed till a solid foundation was reached, and above this were laid four +distinct strata—the first of small broken stones, the second of rubble, +the third of fragments of bricks or pottery, and the fourth the pavement, +composed of large blocks of solid stone, so joined as to present a perfectly +even surface. Regular footpaths were raised on each side, and covered with +gravel. Milestones divided them accurately. Mountains were pierced by cuttings +or tunnels, and arches thrown over valleys or streams. Upon these roads, +posting houses existed at intervals of six miles, each provided with forty +horses, so that journeys of more than 150 miles were sometimes accomplished in +one day. +</p> + +<p> +From the arrival of our uncivilised anceators, these magnificent roads were +left to ruin and decay, and sometimes became the quarry whence the thane or +baron drew stones for his castle; but they still formed the channels of +communication for centuries. Henry of Huntingdon (circa 1154) mentions the +Icknield Street, from east to west; the Eringe, or Ermine Street, from south to +north; the Watling Street, from southeast to northwest; and the Foss Way, from +northeast to southwest, as the four principal highways of Britain in his day. +Once ruined, no communications so perfect existed until these days of +railroads. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA19anc" name="EndNoteA19sym">xix</a> The Rollright Stones. +</p> + +<p> +These stones are still to be seen in the parish of Great Rollright near +Chipping Norton, Oxon, anciently Rollrich or Rholdrwygg. They lie on the edge +of an old Roman trackway, well defined, which extends along the watershed +between Thames and Avon. The writer has himself heard from the rustics of the +neighbourhood the explanation given by Oswy, while that put in the mouth of +Father Cuthbert is the opinion of the learned. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA20anc" name="EndNoteA20sym">xx</a> For this new translation +of Urbs beata the author is indebted to his friend the Rev. Gerald Moultrie. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA21anc" name="EndNoteA21sym">xxi</a> The reader will remember +the strong feeling of animosity then existing between seculars and regulars. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA22anc" name="EndNoteA22sym">xxii</a> This demoniacal laughter +is one of the many legends about St. Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB1anc" name="EndNoteB1sym">xxiii</a> See Preface. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB2anc" name="EndNoteB2sym">xxiv</a> Ruined British Cities. +</p> + +<p> +The resistance of the Britons (or Welsh) to their Saxon (or English) foes was +so determined, that, as in all similar cases, it increased the miseries of the +conquered. In Gaul the conquered Celts united with the Franks to make one +people; in Spain they united with the Goths; but the conquerors of Britain came +from that portion of Germany which had been untouched by Roman valour or +civilisation, and consequently there was no disposition to unite with their +unhappy victims, but the war became one of extermination. Long and bravely did +the unhappy Welsh struggle. After a hundred years of warfare they still +possessed the whole extent of the western coast, from the wall of Autoninus to +the extreme promontory of Cornwall; and the principal cities of the inland +territory still maintained the resistance. The fields of battle, says Gibbon, +might be traced in almost every district by the monuments of bones; the +fragments of falling towers were stained by blood, the Britons were massacred +ruthlessly to the last man in the conquered towns, without distinction of age +or sex, as in Anderida. Whole territories returned to desolation; the district +between the Tyne and Tees, for example, to the state of a savage and solitary +forest. The wolves, which Roman authorities describe as nonexistent in England, +again peopled those dreary wastes; and from the soft civilisation of Rome the +inhabitants of the land fell back to the barbarous manners and customs of the +shepherds and hunters of the German forests. Nor did the independent Britons, +who had taken refuge finally in Wales, or Devon and Cornwall, fare much better. +Separated by their foes from the rest of mankind, they returned to that state +of barbarism from which they had emerged, and became a scandal at last to the +growing civilisation of their English foes. +</p> + +<p> +Under these circumstances the Saxons or English (the Saxons founded the +kingdoms of Wessex and Essex; the Jutes, Kent; the Angles all the others. The +predominance of the latter caused the term English to become the general +appellation.) cared little to inhabit the cities they conquered; they left them +to utter desolation, as in the case described in the text, until a period came +when, as in the case of the first English assaults upon Exeter and the west +country, they no longer destroyed, but appropriated, while they spared the +conquered. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB3anc" name="EndNoteB3sym">xxv</a> Seaton in Devonshire. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB4anc" name="EndNoteB4sym">xxvi</a> Elgiva or Ælgifu, +signifies fairy gift. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB5anc" name="EndNoteB5sym">Xxvii</a> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The gate of hell stands open night and day;<br/> +Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:<br/> +But to return, and view the upper skies—In this the toil, in this the +labour lies.—Dryden. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB6anc" name="EndNoteB6sym">xxviii</a> Valhalla. +</p> + +<p> +Valhalla or Waihalla was the mythical Scandinavian Olympus, the celestial +locality where Odin and Edris dwelt with the happy dead who had fallen in +battle, and who had been conducted thither by the fair Valkyries. Here they +passed the days in fighting and hunting alternately, being restored sound in +body for the banquet each night, where they drank mead from the skulls of the +foes they had vanquished in battle. Such was the heaven which commended itself +to those fierce warriors. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB7anc" name="EndNoteB7sym">xxix</a> The parish priests were +commonly called “Mass-Thanes” +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB8anc" name="EndNoteB8sym">xxx</a> “I am the +resurrection and the life, saith the Lord. He that believeth in Me, though he +were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth, and believeth in Me, shall +never die.” +</p> + +<p> +It was not the usual English custom, in those days, to bury the dead in +coffins, still it was often done, in the case of the great, from the earliest +days of Christianity. For instance, a stone coffin, supposed to contain the +dust of the fierce Offa, who died A. D. 796, was dug up, when more than a +thousand years had passed away, in the year 1836, at Hemel-Hempstead, with the +name Offa rudely carved upon it. The earliest mention of churchyards in English +antiquities is in the canons called the “Excerptions of Ecgbriht,” +A.D. 740, when Cuthbert was Archbishop of Canterbury; and here the word +“atria” is used, which may refer to the outbuildings or porticoes +of a church.<br /><br /> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB9anc" name="EndNoteB9sym">xxxi</a> The Greater and Lesser +Excommunications. +</p> + +<p> +The lesser excommunication excluded men from the participation of the Eucharist +and the prayers of the faithful, but did not necessarily expel them from the +Church. The greater excommunication was far more dreadful in its operation. It +was not lawful to pray, speak, or eat, with the excommunicate (Canons of +Ecgbright). No meat might be given into their hands even in charity, although +it might be laid before them on the ground. Those who sheltered them incurred a +heavy “were gild,” and endangered the loss of their estates; and +finally, in case of obstinacy, outlawry and banishment followed. +</p> + +<p> +—King Canute’s Laws Ecclesiastical. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB10anc" name="EndNoteB10sym">xxxii</a> Disappearance of +Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +The writer has already in the preface stated his reasons for rejecting the +usual sad story about the fate of the hapless Elgiva. The other story, that she +was seized by Archbishop Odo, branded on the face, and sent to Ireland, as Mr. +Freeman observes, rests on no good authority; all that is certainly known is +that she disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +At the time commonly assigued to these events, Dunstan was still in Flanders; +yet he is generally credited with the atrocities by modern writers, even as if +he had been proved guilty after a formal trial. His return probably took place +about the time occupied by the action of the last chapter, when the partition +of the kingdom had already occurred. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB11anc" name="EndNoteB11sym">xxxiii</a> The last Anointing. +</p> + +<p> +The priest shall also have oil hallowed, separately, for children, and for sick +men; and solemnly anoint the sick in their beds. Some sick men are full of vain +fears, so as not to consent to the being anointed. Now we will tell you how +God’s Apostle Jacob hath instructed us in this point; he thus speaks to +the faithful: “If any of you be afflicted, let him pray for himself with +an even mind, and praise his Lord. If any be sick among you, let him fetch the +mass priests of the congregation, and let them sing over him, and pray for him, +and anoint him with oil in the Name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith shall +heal the sick; and the Lord shall raise him up: and if he be in sins they shall +be forgiven him. Confess your sins among yourselves, pray for yourselves among +yourselves, that ye be healed.” Thus spake Jacob the Apostle concerning +the unction of the sick. But the sick man, before his anointing, shall with +inward heart confess his sins to the priest, if he hath any for which he hath +not made satisfaction, according to what the Apostle before taught: and he must +not be anointed, unless he request it, and make his confession. If he were +before sinful and careless, let him then confess, and repent, and do alms +before his death, that he may not be adjudged to hell, but obtain the Divine +mercy. +</p> + +<p> +Such is Johnson’s version of the 32d canon of Elfric, in which he has +preserved closely Elfric’s translation, or rather paraphrase, of the +passage in St. James. The name James was not then in use, the Latin Jacobus was +rendered Jacob.—Johnson’s English Canons, A.D. 957, 32. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13215 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..443a9de --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #13215 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13215) diff --git a/old/13215-0.txt b/old/13215-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..447cae6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13215-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9835 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Æscendune, by A. D. Crake + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Æscendune + +Author: A. D. Crake + +Release Date: August 18, 2004 [eBook #13215] +[Most recently updated: July 6, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Martin Robb + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EDWY THE FAIR *** + + + + +Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Æscendune: + +A Tale of the Days of Saint Dunstan, + +by the Rev. A. D. Crake. + + +Contents + + PREFACE. + CHAPTER I. “THIS IS THE FOREST PRIMEVAL.” + CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE OF ÆSCENDUNE. + CHAPTER III. LEAVING HOME. + CHAPTER IV. LONDON IN THE OLDEN TIME. + CHAPTER V. TEMPTATION. + CHAPTER VI. LOWER AND LOWER. + CHAPTER VII. “THE KING IS DEAD!—LONG LIVE THE KING!” + CHAPTER VIII. THE CORONATION. + CHAPTER IX. GLASTONBURY ABBEY. + CHAPTER X. ELFRIC AND ALFRED. + CHAPTER XI. THE FLIGHT OF DUNSTAN. + CHAPTER XII. AT HIS WORST. + CHAPTER XIII. THE RETURN OF ALFRED. + CHAPTER XIV. EDWY AND ELGIVA. + CHAPTER XV. THE ROYAL GUEST. + CHAPTER XVI. NAKED THOUGH LOCKED IN STEEL. + CHAPTER XVII. THE SLEEP OF PEACE. + CHAPTER XVIII. THE BATTLE. + CHAPTER XIX. EARTH TO EARTH, AND DUST TO DUST. + CHAPTER XX. “AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT.” + CHAPTER XXI. “UNDER WHICH KING? “ + CHAPTER XXII. LOVE STRONG AS DEATH. + CHAPTER XXIII. VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY. + CHAPTER XXIV. SOW THE WIND, AND REAP THE WHIRLWIND. + CHAPTER XXV. “FOR EVER WITH THE LORD.” + + + + +PREFACE. + + +It has been the aim of the Author, in a series of original tales told +to the senior boys of a large school, to illustrate interesting or +difficult passages of Church History by the aid of fiction. Two of +these tales—“Æmilius,” a tale of the Decian and Valerian persecutions; +and “Evanus,” a tale of the days of Constantine—he has already +published, and desires gratefully to acknowledge the kindness with +which they have been received. + +He is thus encouraged to submit another attempt to the public, having +its scene of action in our own land, although in times very dissimilar +to our own; and for its object, the illustration of the struggle +between the regal and ecclesiastical powers in the days of the +ill-fated and ill-advised King Edwy. + +Scarcely can one find a schoolboy who has not read the touching legend +of Edwy and Elgiva—for it is little more than a legend in most of its +details; and which of these youthful readers has not execrated the +cruelty of the Churchmen who separated those unhappy lovers? While the +tragical story of the fate of the hapless Elgiva has been the theme of +many a poet and even historian, who has accepted the tale as if it were +of as undoubted authenticity as the Reform Bill. + +The writer can well remember the impression the tale made upon his +youthful imagination, and the dislike, to use a mild word, with which +he ever viewed the character of the great statesman and ecclesiastic of +the tenth century, Dunstan, until a wider knowledge of history and a +more accurate judgment came with maturer years; and testimonies to the +ability and genius of that monk, who had been the moving spirit of his +age, began to force themselves upon him. + +Lord Macaulay has well summed up the relative positions of Church and +State in that age in the following words: “It is true that the Church +had been deeply corrupted by superstition, yet she retained enough of +the sublime theology and benevolent morality of her early days to +elevate many intellects, and to purify many hearts. That the sacerdotal +order should encroach on the functions of the chief magistrate, would +in our time be a great evil. But that which in an age of good +government is an evil, may in an age of grossly bad government be a +blessing. It is better that men should be governed by priest craft than +by brute violence; by such a prelate as Dunstan, than by such a warrior +as Penda.” + +The Church was indeed the salt of the earth, even if the salt had +somewhat lost its savour; it was the only power which could step in +between the tyrant and his victim, which could teach the irresponsible +great—irresponsible to man—their responsibility to the great and awful +Being whose creatures they were. And again, it was then the only home +of civilisation and learning. It has been well said that for the +learning of this age to vilify the monks and monasteries of the +medieval period, is for the oak to revile the acorn from which it +sprang. + +The overwhelming realisation of these facts, the determination to set +up the dominion of truth and justice which they held to be identical +with that of the Church, as that was identical with the kingdom of God, +supplies the key to the lives and characters of such men as Ambrose, +Cyril, Dunstan, and Becket. They each came in collision with the civil +power; but Ambrose against Justina or even Theodosius, Cyril against +Orestes, Dunstan against Edwy, Becket against Henry Plantagenet—each +represented, in a greater or less degree, the cause of religion, nay of +humanity, against its worst foes, tyranny or moral corruption. + +Yet not one of these great men was without his faults; this is only to +say he was human; but more may be admitted—personal motives would mix +themselves with nobler emotions. Self would assert her fatal claims, +and great mistakes were sometimes made by those who would have +forfeited their lives rather than have committed them, had they known +what they were doing. Yet, on the whole, their cause was that of God +and man, and they fought nobly. Shall we asperse their memories because +they “had this treasure in earthen vessels”? + +The tale itself is intended to depict what the writer believes to be +the true relative positions of Edwy and the great ecclesiastic; +therefore he will not attempt to deal with the subject here. It will be +noticed however, that he has shorn the narrative of the dread +catastrophe with which it terminated in all the histories of our +childhood. Scarcely any writer has made such wise research into the +history of this period as Mr. E. A. Freeman, and the author has adopted +his conclusions upon this point. With him he has therefore admitted the +marriage of Edwy with Elgiva, although it was an uncanonical marriage +beyond all doubt, and has given her the title of queen, which she bore +in a document preserved by Lappenburg. But, in agreement with the same +authority, the writer feels most happy to be able to reject the story +of Elgiva’s supposed tragical death. All sorts of stories are told by +later writers, utterly contradictory and confused, of a woman killed by +the Mercians in their revolt. This could not be Elgiva, for she was not +divorced till the rebellion was over; and even the sad tale that she +was seized by the officers of Odo, and branded to disfigure her beauty, +rests on no good authority. In spite of the reluctance with which men +relinquish a touching tragedy, the calumny should be banished from the +pages of historians; and it is painful to see it repeated, as if of +undoubted authenticity, in a recent popular history for children by one +of the greatest of modern novelists. + +Edwy’s character has cost the writer much thought. He has endeavoured +to paint him faithfully—not so bad as all the monastic writers of the +succeeding period (the only writers with few exceptions) describe him; +but still such a youth as the circumstances under which he became +placed would probably have made him—capable of sincere attachment, +brave, and devoted to his friends, yet careless of all religious +obligations; bitterly hostile to the Church, that is to Christianity, +for the terms were then synonymous; and reckless of obligations, or of +the sanctity of truth and justice. + +His measures against St. Dunstan, as they are related in the tale, have +the authority of history; although it is needless to say that the +agents are in part fictitious characters. The writer’s object has been +to subordinate fiction to history, and never to contradict historic +fact; if he has failed in this intention, it has been his misfortune +rather than his fault; for he has had recourse to all such authorities +as lay in his reach.i Especially, he is glad to find that the character +he had conceived as Edwy’s perfectly coincides with the description +given by Palgrave in his valuable History of the Anglo-Saxons: + +“Edwy was a youth of singular beauty, but vain, rash, petulant, +profligate, and surrounded by a host of young courtiers, all bent on +encouraging and emulating the vices of their master.” + +Another object of the tale has been to depict the trials and +temptations, the fall and the recovery, of a lad fresh from a home full +of religious influences, when thrown amidst the snares which abounded +then as now. The motto, “Facilis descensus Averno,” etc, epitomises the +whole story. + +In relating a tale of the days of St. Dunstan, the author has felt +bound to give the religious colouring which actually prevailed in that +day. He has found much authority and information in Johnson’s +Anglo-Saxon Canons, especially those of Elfric, probably +contemporaneous with the tale. He has written in no controversial +spirit, but with an honest desire to set forth the truth. + +It may be objected that he has made all his characters speak in very +modern English, and has not affected the archaisms commonly found in +tales of the time. To this he would reply, that if the genuine language +were preserved, it would be utterly unintelligible to modern +Englishmen, and therefore he has thought it preferable to translate +into the vernacular of today. The English which men spoke then was no +more stilted or formal to them than ours is to us. + +Although he has followed Mr. Freeman in the use of the terms English +and Welsh, as far less likely to mislead than the terms Saxons and +Britons, and far truer to history, yet he has not thought proper to +follow the obsolete spelling of proper names; he has not, e. g., spelt +Edwy, Eadwig or Elgiva, Ælfgifu. Custom has Latinised the appellations, +and as he has rejected obsolete terms in conversation, he has felt it +more consistent to reject these more correct, but less familiar, +orthographies. + +The title, “First Chronicle of Æscendune,” has been adopted, because +the tale here given is but the first of a series of tales which have +been told, but not yet written, attaching themselves to the same family +and locality at intervals of generations. Thus, the second illustrates +the struggle between Edmund Ironside and Canute; the third, the Norman +Conquest; etc. Their appearance in print must depend upon the +indulgence extended to the present volume. + +In conclusion, the writer dedicates this book with great respect to +Mrs. Trevelyan, authoress of “Lectures upon the History of England;” +whose first volume, years ago, first taught him to appreciate, in some +degree, the character of St. Dunstan. + +All Saints’ School, Bloxham, + +_Easter_ 1874. + + + + +CHAPTER I. +“THIS IS THE FOREST PRIMEVAL.” + + +IT was a lovely eventide of the sunny month of May, and the declining +rays of the sun penetrated the thick foliage of an old English forest, +lighting up in chequered pattern the velvet sward thick with moss, and +casting uncertain rays as the wind shook the boughs. Every bush seemed +instinct with life, for April showers and May sun had united to force +each leaf and spray into its fairest development, and the drowsy hum of +countless insects told, as it saluted the ears, the tale of approaching +summer. + +Two boys reclined upon the mossy bank beneath an aged oak; their dress, +no less than their general demeanour, denoted them to be the sons of +some substantial thane. They were clad in hunting costume: leggings of +skin over boots of untanned leather protected their limbs from thorn or +brier, and over their under garments they wore tunics of a dull green +hue, edged at the collar and cuffs with brown fur, and fastened by +richly ornamented belts: their bows lay by their sides, while quivers +of arrows were suspended to their girdles, and two spears, such as were +used in the chase of the wild boar, lay by them on the grass. They had +the same fair hair, which, untouched by the shears, hung negligently +around neck and shoulder; the same blue eyes added an indescribable +softness to the features; they had the same well-knit frames and agile +movements, but yet there was a difference. The elder seemed possessed +of greater vivacity of expression; but although each well-strung muscle +indicated physical prowess, there was an uncertain expression in his +glance and in the play of his features, which suggested a yielding and +somewhat vacillating character; while the younger, lacking the full +physical development, and somewhat of the engaging expression of his +brother, had that calm and steady bearing which indicated present and +future government of the passions. + +“By Thor and Woden, Alfred, we shall be here all night. At what hour +did that stupid churl Oscar say that the deer trooped down to drink?” + +“Not till sunset, Elfric; and it wants half an hour yet; see, the sun +is still high.” + +“I do think it is never going to set; here we have been hunting, +hunting all the day, and got nothing for our pains.” + +“You forget the hare and the rabbit here.” + +“Toss them to the dogs. Here, Bran, you brute, take this hare your +masters have been hunting all day, for your dinner;” and as he spoke he +tossed the solitary victim of his own prowess in the chase to the huge +wolfhound, which made a speedy meal upon the hare, while Alfred threw +the rabbit to the other of their two canine companions. + +“I would almost as soon have lost this holiday, and spent the time with +Father Cuthbert, to be bored by his everlasting talk about our duties, +and forced to repeat ‘_hic, hæc, hoc_,’ till my head ached. What a long +homily ii he preached us this morning —and then that long story about +the saint.” + +“You are out of spirits. Father Cuthbert’s tales are not so bad, after +all you seemed to like the legend he told us the other night.” + +“Yes, about our ancestor Sebbald and his glorious death; there was +something in that tale worth hearing; it stirred the blood—none of your +moping saints, that Sebbald.” + +“I once heard another legend from Father Cuthbert, about the burning of +Croyland Abbey, and how the abbot stood, saying mass at the altar, +without flinching or even turning his head, when the Danes, having +fired the place, broke into the chapel. Do you not think it wanted more +bravery to do that in cold blood than to stand firm in all the +excitement of a battle?” + +“You are made to be a monk, Alfred, and I daresay, if you get the +chance, will be a martyr, and get put in the calendar by-and-by. I +suppose they will keep your relics here in the priory church, and you +will be St. Alfred of Æscendune; for me, I would sooner die as the old +sea kings loved to die, surrounded by heaps of slain, with my sword +broken in my hand.” + +It was at this moment that their conversation was suddenly interrupted +by a loud crashing of boughs in the adjacent underwood, a rush as of +some wild beast, a loud cry in boyish tones—“Help! help! the wolf! the +wolf!” + +Elfric jumped up in an instant, and rushed forward heedless of danger, +followed closely by his younger brother, who was scarcely less eager to +render immediate assistance. + +The cries for help became more and more piercing, as if some pressing +danger menaced the utterer. Elfric, who, in spite of his flippant +speech, was by no means destitute of keen sympathies and self devotion, +hurried forward, fearless of danger, bounding through thicket and +underwood, until, arriving upon a small clearing, the whole scene +flashed upon him. + +A huge grey wolf, wounded and bleeding, was about to rush for the +second time upon a youth in hunting costume, whose broken spear, broken +in the first encounter with the beast he had disturbed, seemed to +deprive him of all chance of success in the desperate encounter +evidently impending. His trembling limbs showed his extreme +apprehension, and the sweat stood in huge drops on his forehead; his +eyes were fixed upon the beast as if he were fascinated, while the +shaft of his spear, presented feebly against the coming onslaught, +showed that he had lost his self possession, for he neglected the bow +and arrows which were slung at his side—if indeed there was time to use +them. + +The beast sprang, but as he did so another spear was stoutly presented +to meet him, and he literally impaled himself in his eager spring on +the weapon of Elfric. + +Still, such was his weight that the boy fell backward beneath the +mighty rush, and such the tenacity of life that, though desperately +wounded, even to death, the beast sought the prostrate lad with teeth +and claws, in frantic fury, until a blow from the hunting knife, which +Elfric well knew how to use, laid the wolf lifeless at his side. + +Breathless, but not severely injured, he rose from the ground covered +with blood; his garments torn, his face reddened by exertion, and +paused a moment, while he seemed to strive to repress the wild beatings +of his heart, which bounded as if it would burst its prison. + +But far more exhausted was the other combatant, yet scarcely so much by +exertion as by fear, of which he still bore the evident traces. After a +few moments he broke the silence, and his words seemed incoherent. + +“Where is my horse? the beast threw me—I wish the wolves may get him—I +fear you are hurt; not much, I hope; where can those serfs be? Fine +vassals, to desert their master in peril. I’ll have them hung. But, by +St. Cuthbert, you are all covered with blood.” + +“’Tis that of the wolf, then, for I have scarcely a scratch: one of the +beast’s claws ripped up my sleeve, and the skin with it; that was all +he could do before he felt the cold steel between his ribs.” + +“Not a moment too soon, or he would have killed you before we could +interfere; why, as you rolled together, I could hardly see which was +boy and which was wolf. But where’s my horse? Did you see a white horse +rush past you?” + +“We heard a rush as of some wild animal.” + +“Wild enough. I was riding through the glade, and my attendants were on +in front, when we stumbled on this wolf, crouched under that thicket. +The horse started so violently that it threw me almost upon the monster +you have killed.” + +Here the speaker paused, and blew impatient blasts upon a horn which +had been slung round his neck. They were soon answered, and some +attendants, dressed in semi-hunting costume, made their appearance with +haste and confusion, which showed their apprehensions. + +“Guthred! Eadmer! Why did you get so far away from me? I might have +been killed. Look at this monstrous wolf; why, its teeth are dreadful. +It broke my spear, and would have had me down, but for this—this youth. + +“I forgot, I haven’t asked to whom I am indebted. Aren’t you two +brothers?” + +“Our father is the Thane of Æscendune. His hall is not far from here. +Will you not go home with us? We have plenty of room for you and +yours.” + +“To be sure I will. Æscendune? I have heard the name: I can’t remember +where. Have you horses?” + +“No; we were hunting on foot, and expecting to let fly our shafts at +some deer. May I ask, in return, the name of our guest?” + +Before the youth could answer, one of the attendants strode forward, +and with an air of importance replied, “You are about to receive the +honour of a visit from the future lord of Britain, Prince Edwy.” + +“Keep your lips closed till I give you leave to open them, Guthred. You +may leave me to announce myself. + +“I shall be only too glad to go with you both; and these two huntsmen +deserve to be left in the forest to the mercy of your wolves.” + +Somewhat startled to find that they had saved the future Basileus or +King of Britain—the hope of the royal line of Cerdic —the brothers led +their guest through the darkening forest until the distant light of a +clearing appeared in the west, and they emerged from the shadow of the +trees upon the brow of a gentle hill. + +Below them lay the castle (if such it should be called) of their father +the Thane of Æscendune. Utterly unlike the castellated buildings which, +at a later period, formed the dwellings of the proud Norman nobility, +it was a low irregular building, the lower parts of which were of +stone, and the upper portions, when there was a second story, of thick +timber from the forest. + +A river, from which the evening mist was slowly rising, lay beyond, and +supplied water to a moat which surrounded the edifice, for in those +troublous times few country dwellings lacked such necessary protection. +The memory of the Danish invasions was too recent; the marauders of +either nation still lurked in the far recesses of the forest, and +plundered the Saxon inhabitant or the Danish settler indiscriminately, +as occasion served. + +On the inner side of the moat a strong palisade of timber completed the +defence. One portal, opening upon a drawbridge, formed the sole +apparent means of ingress or egress. + +Passing the drawbridge unquestioned, the boys entered the courtyard, +around which the chief apartments were grouped. Before them a flight of +stone steps led to the great hall where all the members of the +community took their meals in common, and where, around the great fire, +they wiled away the slow hours of a winter evening. + +On each side of the great hall stood the bowers, as the small +dormitories were called, furnished very simply for the use of the +higher domestics with small round tables, common stools, and beds in +recesses like boxes or cupboards. Such were commonly the only sleeping +chambers, but at Æscendune, as generally in the halls of the rich, a +wide staircase conducted to a gallery above, from each side of which +opened sleeping and sitting apartments allotted to the use of the +family. It was only in the houses of the wealthy that such an upper +floor was found. + +On the right hand, as they entered the courtyard, stood the private +chapel of the household, where mass was said by the chaplain, to whom +allusion has been already made, as the first duty of the day, and where +each night generally saw the household again assembled for compline or +evening prayers.iii On the left hand were domestic offices. + +Upon the steps of his hall stood Ella, the Thane of Æscendune, the +representative of a long line of warlike ancestors, who had occupied +the soil since the Saxon conquest of Mercia. + +He was clad in a woollen tunic reaching to the knee, over which a cloak +fastened by a clasp of gold was loosely thrown; and his feet were clad +in black pointed boots, while strips of painted leather were wound over +red stockings from the knee to the ankle. + +“You are late, my sons,” he said, “and I perceive you have brought us a +visitor. He is welcome.” + +“Father,” said Elfric, in a voice somewhat expressive of awe, “it is +Prince Edwy!” + +The thane had in his earlier days been at court, and had known the +murdered Edmund, the royal father of his guest, intimately. It was not +without emotion, therefore, that he welcomed the son to his home, and +saluted him with that manly yet reverential homage their relative +positions required of him. + +“Welcome, thrice welcome, my prince,” he said, “to these humble halls.” +He added, with some emotion, “I could think the royal Edmund stood +before me, as I knew him while yet myself a youth.” + +The domestics, who had assembled, gazed upon their visitor with country +curiosity, yet were not wanting in rude but expressive courtesy; and +soon he was conducted to the best chamber the house afforded, where +change of raiment and every comfort within the reach of his host was +provided, while the cooks were charged to make sumptuous additions to +the approaching supper. + + + + +CHAPTER II. +THE HOUSE OF ÆSCENDUNE. + + +The earlier fortunes of the house of Æscendune must here obtrude +themselves upon the notice of the reader, in order that he may more +easily comprehend the subsequent pages of our veritable history. + +Sebbald, the remote ancestor of the family, was amongst the earliest +Saxon conquerors of Mercia. He fell in battle with the Britons, or +Welshmen as our ancestors called them, leaving sons valiant as their +sire, to whom were given the fertile lands lying between the river Avon +and the mighty midland forests, to which they gave the name +“Æscendune.” + +They had held their own for three hundred years with varying fortunes; +once or twice home and hearth were desolated by the fierce tide of +Danish invasion, but the wars subsided, and the old family resumed its +position, amidst the joy of their dependants and serfs, to whom they +were endeared by a thousand memories of past benefits. + +But a generation only had passed since the shadow of a great woe fell +on the family of Æscendune. + +Offa, who was then the thane, had two sons, Oswald the elder, and Ella +the younger, with whom our readers are already acquainted. + +The elder possessed few of the family virtues save brute courage. He +was ever rebellious, even in boyhood, and arrived at man’s estate in +the midst of unsettled times of war and tumult. Weary of the restraints +of home, he joined a band of Danish marauders, and shared their +victories, enriching himself with the spoils of his own countrymen. +Thus he remained an outlaw, for his father disowned him in consequence +of his crime, until, fighting against his own people in the great +battle of Brunanburgh, iv where Athelstane so gloriously conquered the +allied Danes, Scots, and Welsh, he was taken prisoner. + +The victor king sat in judgment upon the recreant, surrounded by his +chief nobility and vassal kings. The guilt of the prisoner was evident, +nay undenied, and the respect in which his sire was held alone delayed +the doom of a cruel death from being pronounced upon him. + +While the council yet deliberated, Offa appeared amongst them, and, +like a second Brutus, took his place amongst his peers. Disclaiming all +personal interest in the matter, he sternly proposed that the claims of +justice should be satisfied. + +Yet they hesitated to shed Oswald’s blood: the alternative they adopted +was perhaps not more merciful—although a common doom in those times. +They selected a crazy worm-eaten boat, and sent the criminal to sea, +without sail, oar, or rudder, with a loaf of bread and cruse of water, +the wind blowing freshly from off the land. + +Oswald was never heard of again; but after his supposed death, +information was brought to his father that the outlaw had been married +to a Danish woman, and had left a son—an orphan—for the mother died in +childbirth. + +Offa resolved to seek the boy, and to adopt him, as if in reparation +for the past. The effort he had made had cost him a bitter pang, and +the father’s heart was well-nigh broken. For a time the inquiries were +unsuccessful. It was discovered that the mother was dead, that she had +died before the tragedy, but not a word could be learned respecting the +boy, and many had begun to doubt his existence, when, after years had +elapsed, one of the executioners of the cruel doom deposed on his +deathbed that a boy of some ten summers had appeared on the beach, had +called the victim “father,” and had so persistently entreated to share +his doom, that they had allowed him to do so, but had concealed the +fact, rightly fearing blame, if not punishment. The priest who had +attended his dying bed, and heard his last confession, bore the tidings +to Offa at the penitent’s desire. + +The old thane never seemed to lift up his head again: the sacrifice his +sense of duty had exacted from him had been too great for a heart +naturally full of domestic affection, and he sank and died after a few +months in the arms of his younger and beloved son Ella. + +The foundation of the neighbouring priory and church of St. Wilfred had +been the consolation of his later years, but the work was only half +completed at his death. It was carried on with equal zeal by Ella, now +the Thane of Æscendune. + +He married Edith, the daughter of a rich thane of Wessex, and the +marriage proved a most happy one. + +Sincerely religious, after the fashion of their day, they honoured God +with their substance, enriched the church of St. Wilfred, where the +dust of the aged Offa awaited the resurrection of the just, and +continued the labour of building the priory. Day after day they were +constant in their attendance at mass and evensong, and strove to live +as foster parents to their dependants and serfs. + +The chief man in his hundred, Ella acted as reeve or magistrate, +holding his court for the administration of justice each month, and +giving such just judgment as became one who had the fear of God before +him. No appeal was ever made from him to the ealdorman (earl) or +scirgerefa (sheriff) and the wisdom and mercy of his rule were +universally renowned. + +His land was partly cultivated by his own theows, who were in those +days slaves attached to the soil, and partly let out to free husbandmen +(or ceorls) who owed their lord rent in kind or in money, and paid him, +as “his men,” feudal service. + +Around his hospitable board the poor of the district found sustenance, +while work was made for all in draining meres, mending roads, building +the priory, or in the various agricultural labours of the year. + +In the first year of King Edmund the lady Edith presented her lord with +his first-born son, to whom in baptism they gave the name Elfric, and a +year later Alfred was born, and named after the great king. One +daughter, named Edgitha, completed the fruits of their happy union, and +in their simple fashion they strove to train their children in the fear +of the Lord. + +We will now resume the thread of our story. + +It was now the hour of eventide, and the time for “laying the board” +drew near. From forest and field came in ceorl and theow, hanging up +their weapons or agricultural implements around the lower end of the +hall. Meanwhile the domestics brought in large tressels, and then huge +heavy boards, which they arranged so as to form the dining table, +shaped like the letter T, the upper portion being furnished with the +richest dainties for the family and their guest, the lower with simpler +fare for the dependents. + +A wild boar caught in the forest formed the chief dish, and was placed +at the upper end, while mutton and beef; dressed in various ways, +flanked it on either side. + +The thane, Ella, occupied the central seat at the high table: his +chair, rudely carved, had borne the weight of his ancestors before him; +on his left hand was seated the once lovely Edith. Age had deprived her +of her youthful beauty, but not of the sweet expression which told of +her gentleness and purity of heart; they had left their impress on each +line of her speaking countenance; and few left her presence unimpressed +with respect and esteem. + +On his right hand sat Prince Edwy, “Edwy the fair” men called him, and +right well he deserved the name. His face was one which inspired +interest at a glance: his large blue eyes, his golden hair which +floated over his shoulders, his sweet voice, his graceful bearing, all +united to impress the beholders. + +Elfric, Alfred, and their sister Edgitha, completed the company at the +high table. + +The hungry crowd of ceorls and serfs, who were, as we have said, fresh +from field or forest, sat at the lower table, which was spread with +huge joints of roasted meat, loaves of bread, wedges of cheese, piles +of cabbage or other vegetables, rolls or coils of broiled eels, and +huge pieces of boiled pork or bacon. + +Around the table sat the hounds and other dogs, open jawed, waiting +such good luck as they might hope to receive at the hands of their +masters, while many “loaf eaters,” as the serfs were called who fed at +their master’s table, stood with the dogs, or sat on the rush-strewn +floor, for want of room at the board. + +It was marvellous to see how the food disappeared, as hand after hand +was stretched out to the dishes, in the absence of forks—a modern +invention—and huge horns of ale helped the meat downwards. + +Game, steaks of beef and venison on spits, were handed round. The +choicer joints were indeed reserved for the upper board, but profusion +was the rule everywhere throughout the hall, and there was probably not +a serf; nay, not even a dog, whose appetite was not fully satisfied +before the end of the feast. + +The prince seemed thoroughly to have recovered his spirits, somewhat +damped perhaps before by his adventure with the wolf; and exerted his +talents to make himself agreeable. He had seen life on an extended +scale, young as he was, and his anecdotes of London and the court, if a +little wild, were still interesting. Elfric and Alfred listened to his +somewhat random talk, with that respect boys ever pay to those who have +seen more of the wide world than themselves—a respect perhaps +heightened by the high rank of their princely guest, who was, however, +only a month or two older than Elfric. + +As they heard of the marvels of London, and of the court, home and its +attractions seemed to become dim by comparison, and Elfric especially +longed to share such happiness. + +Their father seemed to wish to change the conversation, as he asked the +prince whether he had been long in Mercia. + +Edwy replied, “Nay, my host; this is almost my first day of perfect +freedom, and I only left London, and my uncle the king, a few days +back. Dunstan has gone down to Glastonbury, for which the Saints be +thanked, and I am released for a few days from poring over the musty +old manuscripts to which he dooms me.” + +“It is well, my prince, that you should have a preceptor so well +qualified to instruct you in the arts your great ancestor King Alfred +so nobly adorned.” + +“Ah yes, Alfred,” said Edwy, yawning; “but you know we can’t all be +saints or heroes like him: for my part, I sometimes wish he had never +lived.” + +The astonished looks of the company seemed to demand further +explanation. + +“Because it is always, ‘Alfred did this,’ and ‘Alfred did that.’ If I +am tired of ‘_hic, hæc, hoc_,’ I am told Alfred was never weary; if I +complain of a headache, Dunstan says Alfred never complained of pain or +illness, but bore all with heroic fortitude, and all the rest of it. If +I want a better dinner than my respected uncle gives us on fast days in +the palace, I am told Alfred never ate anything beyond a handful of +parched corn on such days; if I lose my temper, I am told Alfred never +lost his; and so on, till I get sick of his name; and here it greets me +in the woods of Mercia.” + +“I crave pardon, my liege,” said Ella, who hardly knew whether to smile +or frown at the sarcastic petulance of his guest, who went on with a +sly smile—“And now old Dunstan does not know where I am. He left me +with a huge pile of books in musty Latin, or crabbed English, and I had +to read this and to write that, as if I were no prince, but a +scrivener, and had to get my living by my pen; but as soon as he was +gone I had a headache, and persuaded my venerable uncle the king, +through the physician, that I needed change of air.” + +“But what will Dunstan say?” + +“Oh, he must fight it out with Sigebert the leech, and Sigebert knows +which side his bread is buttered.” + +The whole tone of Edwy indicated plainly that the headache was but a +pretence, but he spoke with such sly simplicity that the boys could not +help joining in his contagious laughter; sympathising, doubtless, in +his love of a holiday in the woods. + +“Your headache is not gone yet, I trust, my prince,” said Elfric. + +“Why?” said Edwy, turning his eyes upon him with a smile. + +“Because we have splendid woods near here for hunting, and I must have” +(he whispered these words into Edwy’s ear) “a headache, too.” + +Edwy quite understood the request conveyed in these words, and turning +to the old thane requested him to allow his boys to join the sport on +the morrow as a kind of bodyguard, adding some very complimentary words +on the subject of Elfric’s courage shown in the rescue that afternoon. + +“Why, yes,” said the old thane, “I have always tried to bring up the +boys so as to fear neither man nor beast, and Elfric did indifferently +well in the tussle. So he has earned a holiday for himself and brother, +with Father Cuthbert’s leave,” and Ella turned to the ecclesiastic. + +“They are good boys,” said the priest, “only, my lord, Elfric is +somewhat behind in his studies.” + +Elfric’s looks expressed his contempt of the “studies,” but he dared +not express the feeling before his father. + +“But I trust, my prince,” said Ella, “that we shall not keep you from +your duties at court. Dunstan is a severe, although a holy man.” + +“Oh, he is gone to have another encounter with the Evil One at +Glastonbury, and is fashioning a pair of tongs for the purpose,” said +Edwy, alluding to the legend already current amongst the credulous +populace; “and I wish,” he muttered, “the Evil One would get the best +of it and fly away with him. But” (in a louder tone) “he cannot return +for a month, which means a month’s holiday for me.” + +Ella could interpose no further objection, although scarcely satisfied +with the programme. + +The conversation here became general. It turned upon the subject of +hunting and war, and the enthusiasm of young Edwy quite captivated the +thane, who seemed to see Edmund, the father of the young prince, before +his eyes, as he had known him in his own impetuous youth. Dear, indeed, +had that prince been to Ella, both before and after his elevation to +the throne, and as he heard the sweet boyish voice of Edwy, his +thoughts were guided by memory to that ill-omened feast at +Pucklechurch, where the vindictive outlaw Leolf had murdered his king. +The sword of Ella had been amongst those which avenged the crime on the +murderer, but they could not call back the vital spark which had fled. +“Edmund the Magnificent,” as they loved to call him, was dead. v + +So, as Ella listened, he could hardly help condoning the wild speeches +of the young prince in deference to the memory of the past. + +And now they removed the festive board from the hall, while kneeling +serfs offered basin and towel to the thane and his guest to wash their +hands. Wine began to circulate freely in goblets of wood inlaid with +gold or silver; the clinking of cups, the drinking of healths and +pledges opened the revel, cupbearers poured out the wine. The glee-wood +(harp) was introduced, while pipes, flutes, and soft horns accompanied +its strains. So they sang— + +Here Athelstane king, +Of earls the lord, +To warriors the ring-giver +Glory world-long +Had won in the strife, +By edge of the sword, +At Brunanburgh. + + +And Ella—who had stood by his father’s side in that dread field where +Danes, Scots, and Welshmen fled before the English sword—listened with +enthusiasm, till he thought of his brother Oswald, when tears, +unobserved, rolled down his cheeks. + +Not so with the boys. They had no secret sorrow to hide, and they +listened like those whose young blood boils at the thought of mighty +deeds, and longed to imitate them. And when the gleeman finished his +lengthy flight of music and poesy, they applauded him till the roof +rang again. + +Song followed song, legend legend, the revelry grew louder, while the +lady Edith, with her daughter, retired to their bower, where they +employed their needles on delicate embroidery. A representation in +bright colours of the consecration of the church of St. Wilfred +occupied the hands of the little Edgitha, while her mother wove sacred +pictures to serve as hangings for the sanctuary of the priory church. + +But soon the tolling of the bell announced that it was the compline +hour, nine o’clock, and that hour was never allowed to pass unobserved +at Æscendune, but formed the termination of the labour or the feast, +after which it was customary for the whole household to retire, as well +they might who rose with the early dawn. + +Neither was it passed by on this occasion, although the boys looked +very disappointed, for they would fain have listened to song or legend +till midnight, if not later. + +“Come, my children,” said the thane; “we must rise early, so let us all +commit ourselves to the keeping of God and His holy angels, and seek +our pillows.” + +So the whole party repaired to the chapel, where the chaplain said the +compline office or night song, after which Ella saluted his royal guest +with reverent affection, and bestowed his paternal benediction upon his +children. Then the whole party separated for the night. + +The household was speedily buried in sleep, save the solitary sentinel +who paced around the building. Not that danger was apprehended from any +source, but precaution had become habitual in those days of turmoil. +Occasionally the howl of the wolf was heard from the woods, and the +sleepers half awoke, then dreamt of the chase as the night flew by. + + + + +CHAPTER III. +LEAVING HOME. + + +The sun arose in a bright and cloudless sky on the following morning, +and his first beams aroused every sleeper in the hall of Æscendune from +his couch of straw, for softer material was seldom or never used for +repose. Even the chamber in which the prince slept could not be called +luxurious: the bed was in a box-like recess; its coverlets, worked +richly by the fair hands of the ladies, who had little other +occupation, covered a mattress which even modern schoolboys would call +rough and uncomfortable. + +The wind played with the tapestry which represented the history of +Joseph and his brethren, as it found its way in through crevices in the +ill-built walls. There were two or three stools over which the thane’s +care for his guest had caused coverlets to be thrown; a round table of +rough construction stood like a tripod on three legs, upon which stood +the unwonted luxury of ewer and basin, for most people had to perform +their ablutions at the nearest convenient well or spring. + +Leaving this chamber in good time, Prince Edwy acompanied his new +friends to the priory church, where they heard mass before the sun was +high in the heavens, after which they returned to the hall to take a +light breakfast before they sought the attractions of the chase in the +forest. Full of life they mounted their horses, and galloped in the +wild exuberance of animal spirits with their dogs through the leafy +arches of the forest, startling the red deer, the wolf, or the wild +boar. Soon they roused a mighty individual of the latter tribe, who +turned to bay, when the boys dismounted and finished the affair with +their boar spears, not without some personal danger, and the loss of a +couple of dogs. + +Onward again they swept, past leafy glades of beech trees, where the +swineherd drove his half-tame charges, or where the woodcutters plied +their toil, and loaded their rude carts or hand barrows with fuel for +the kitchen of the hall; past rookeries, where the birds made the air +lively by their noise; over brook, through the half-dry marsh, until +they came upon an old wolf; whom they followed and slew for want of +better game, not without a desperate struggle, in which Elfric, ever +the foremost, got a much worse scratch than on the preceding day. + +But how enjoyable the sport was, how sweet to breathe the bright pure +air of that May day; how grand to outstrip the wind over the yielding +turf, and at last to carry home the trophies of their prowess; the +scalp of the wolf, the tusks of the boar, leaving the serfs to bring in +the succulent flesh of the latter, while the hawks and crows fed upon +the former. + +And then with what appetite they sat down to their “noon meat,” taken, +however, at the late hour of three, after which they wandered down to +the river and angled for the trout which abounded in the clear stream. + +The youthful reader will not wonder that such attractions sufficed to +detain Edwy several days, during which he was continually hunting in +the adjacent forests, always attended by Elfric, and sometimes by +Alfred. To the elder brother he seemed to have conceived a real liking, +and expressed great reluctance to part with him. + +“Could you not return with me to court,” he said, “and relieve the +tedium of old Dunstan’s society? You cannot think what pleasures London +affords; it is life there indeed—it is true there are no forests like +these, but then, in the winter, when the country is so dreary, the town +is the place.” + +“My father will never consent to my leaving home,” returned Elfric, who +inwardly felt his heart was with the prince. + +“We might overcome that. I am to have a page. You might be nominally my +page, really my companion; and should I ever be king, you would find +you had not served me in vain.” + +The idea had got such strong possession of the mind of Edwy, that he +ventilated it the same night at the supper table, but met with scant +encouragement. Still he did not despair; for, as he told Elfric, the +influence of his royal uncle, King Edred, might be hopefully exerted on +their joint behalf. + +“I mean to get you to town,” he said. “I shall persuade my old uncle, +who is more a monk than a king, that you are dreadfully pious, attached +to monkish Latin, and all that sort of thing, so that he will long to +get you to town, if it is only to set an example to me.” + +“But if he does not find that I answer his expectations?” + +“Oh, it will be too late to alter then; you will be comfortably +installed in the palace; and, between you and me, he is but old and +feeble, and has always had a disease of some kind. I expect he will +soon die, and then who will be king save Edwy, and who in England shall +be higher than his friend Elfric?” + +It was a brilliant prospect, as it seemed to boys of fifteen, for such +was the mature age of the speakers. + +Shortly after the last conversation, an express came from the court to +seek the young prince—the messenger had been long delayed from +ignorance of the present abode of Edwy, who had carefully concealed the +secret until he felt he could tarry no longer, fearing the wrath not +only of the king, but of Dunstan, whom he dreaded yet more than his +uncle. + +So he and his attendants, who had, like him, found pleasant +entertainment at Æscendune, bade farewell to the home where he had been +so hospitably entertained: and so ended a visit, pregnant with the most +important results, then utterly unforeseen and unintended, to the +family he had honoured by his presence. + +Some few weeks passed, and under the tuition of their chaplain, who was +charged with their education, Elfric and Alfred had returned to their +usual course of life. + +It would seem somewhat a hard one to a lover of modern ease. They rose +early, as we have already seen, and before breaking their fast went +with their father and most of the household to the early mass at the +monastery of St. Wilfred, returned to an early meal, and then worked +hard, on ordinary occasions at their Latin, and such other studies as +were pursued in that primitive age of England. The midday meal was +succeeded by somewhat severe bodily exercise, generally hunting the +boar or wolf which still abounded in the forests, an excitement not +unattended by danger, which, however, their father would never permit +them to shun. He knew full well the importance of personal courage at +an age when the dangers of hunting were only initiatory to the stern +duties of war, and no Englishman could shun the latter when his country +called upon him to take up arms. Nor were martial exercises unknown to +the boys; the bow, it is true, was somewhat neglected then in England, +but the use of sword, shield, and battle-axe was daily inculcated. + +“_Si vis pacem_,” Father Cuthbert said on such occasions, “_para +arma._” + +Wearied by their exertions, whether at home or abroad, the brothers +welcomed the evening social meal, and the rest which followed, when old +Saxon legend or the harp of the gleeman enlivened the household fire, +till compline sweetly closed the day. + +Swiftly and pleasantly were passing the weeks succeeding the visit of +the prince, when a royal messenger appeared, bearing a letter sealed +with the king’s signet. The old thane, who had passed his youth in more +troublous times, and could scarcely read the Anglo-Saxon version of the +Gospels, then extant, could not construe the monkish Latin in which it +was King Edred’s good pleasure to write. + +So the chaplain, Cuthbert, read him the letter in which the king +greeted his loyal and well-beloved subject, Ella of Æscendune, and +begged of him, as a great favour, that he would send his eldest boy to +court, to be the companion of the young prince, who had (the king said) +conceived a great affection for Elfric. + +“I hear,” added Edred, “that your boy is a boy after his father’s +heart, full of love for the saints, diligent in his studies, and I +trust well qualified to amend by example the somewhat giddy ways of my +nephew.” + +Ella felt that this latter commendation might be better bestowed upon +Alfred, who, although far less full of boyish spirit and energy than +his brother, was far more attached to his religious duties, as also far +more attentive to the wishes of his parents; but his love for Elfric +blinded him to more serious defects in the character of his son, or he +might have feared their development in a congenial soil. + +So the father saw his boy alone, and communicated the contents of the +letter. The news was indeed welcome to Elfric, who panted for travel +and adventure and the freedom he fancied he should get in Edwy’s +society. But Ella hardly perceived this, and enlarged upon the dangers +to which his son would be exposed, and tried to put before the boy all +the “pros “ and “cons” of the question faithfully. + +“He would not keep him back,” he said, “if he desired to leave home,” +but as he uttered the words he felt his heart very heavy, for Æscendune +would lose half its brightness in losing Elfric. + +But Elfric’s choice was already made, and he only succeeded in +repressing his delight with great difficulty, in deference to the +serious aspect and words of his revered sire. But his decision, for it +was left to him, was unchanged, and he stammered forth his desire to be +a man, and to see the world, in words mingled with expressions of his +deep love for his parents, which he was sure nothing could ever change. + +Strange to say, now that the parental consent was gained, and no +obstacle lay between him and the accomplishment of his ardent wish, he +did not feel half so happy as he had expected to feel. Home affections +seemed to increase as the hours rushed by which were to be his last in +the bosom of his family; every familiar object became precious as the +thought arose that it might be seen for the last time; favourites, both +men and animals, had to be bidden farewell. There was the old forester, +the gleeman, the warder, the gardener, the chamberlain, the cellarius, +the cook (not an unimportant personage in Saxon households), the foster +mother, his old nurse, and many a friend in the village. Then there +were his favourite dogs, his pony, some pigeons he had reared; and all +had some claim on his affection, home nurtured as he had been in a most +kindly household. + +But the appointed day came, the horse which was to bear him away stood +at the door, another horse loaded with his personal effects stood near, +for carriages were then unknown, neither would the roads have permitted +their use, so changed were the times since the Roman period. + +His father and mother, his brother and sister, stood without the +drawbridge, where the last goodbye took place; tears started unbidden +to his eyes—he was only fifteen—as he heard the parting blessing, and +as his mother pressed him to her bosom. + +Alfred and his sister Edith seemed almost broken hearted at the +parting. But Elfric tried to bear up, and the end came. + +The little cavalcade left the castle, two attendants, well armed and +mounted, being his bodyguard. + +Again and again he looked back; and when, after a journey of two miles, +the envious woods closed in, and hid the dear familiar home from his +sight, a strange sense of desolation rushed upon him, as if he were +alone in the world. + +The route taken by the cavalcade led them in the first place to +Warwick, even then a flourishing Saxon town: this was the limit of +Elfric’s previous wanderings, and when they left it for the south, the +whole country was strange to him. + +The royal messenger had business at the cathedral city of Dorchester, +at the junction of the Tame and Isis, and they did not take the more +direct route by the Watling Street, the most perfect Roman road +remaining. The land was but thinly peopled, forests covered the greater +portion, and desolate marshes much of the remainder; thus, through +alternate forest and marsh, the travellers advanced along the ruinous +remains of an old Roman crossroad, which had once afforded good +accommodation to travellers, but had been suffered to fall into utter +ruin and decay by the neglect of their successors, our own barbarous +ancestors. + +Originally it had been paved with stone, and causeways had been formed +over marsh and mere, but the stones had been taken away, for the road +formed the most accessible quarry in the neighbourhood. Here and there, +however, it was still good, surviving the wear of centuries, and even +the old mileposts of iron were still existing covered with rust, with +the letters denoting so many Roman miles—or thousands of paces—still +legible. + +A few hours’ riding from Warwick brought them at the close of the day +in sight of Beranbyrig (Banbury), where three centuries earlier a +bloody battle had been fought, vi wherein success—almost for the last +time—visited the British arms, and saved the Celtic race from expulsion +for twenty years. + +The spot was very interesting to Elfric, for here his ancestor Sebbald +had fought by the side of the invading king, Cynric, the son of Cerdic, +and had fallen “gloriously” on the field. + +“Look,” said Anlaf, the guide, “at that sloping ground which rises to +the northwest. There the Welsh (Britons) stood, formed in nine strong +battalions. In that hollow they placed their archers, and here their +javelin men and cavalry were arranged after the old Roman fashion. Our +Englishmen were all in one battalion, and charged them fiercely, when +they were thrown into confusion by the cunning tricks of the Welsh, who +made up in craft what they wanted in manly courage. + +“Look at this brook which flows to the river, it was running with blood +that evening, and our men lay piled in huge heaps where they tried to +scale the hill which you see yonder.” + +“And did the Welsh gain the day so easily?” said Elfric, sorrowfully. + +“I don’t wonder; they were fighting for their lives, and even a rat +will fight if you get him into a corner; besides, they had all their +best men here.” + +“Do you know where Sebbald fell?” said Elfric, referring to his own +ancestor. + +“Just under this hillock, close by King Cynric, who fought like a lion +to save the body, but was unable to do so. The Welsh were then gaining +the day. Still, even his foes respected his valour, and gave your +forefather a fair and honourable burial.” + +Leaving the battlefield, they entered the Saxon town, which was +defended on one side by the Cherwell, on the other by a mound and +palisade, with an outer ditch supplied by the river. Here they found +hospitable entertainment, and left on the morrow for the town of +Kirtlington. + +They left Beranbyrig early, and reached the village of Sutthun (King’s +Sutton), where they perceived a great multitude of people collected +around a well at the outskirts of the village. + +“What are these people doing?” asked Elfric. + +“Oh, do you not know?” replied Anlaf. “This is St. Rumbald’s well,” and +he crossed himself piously. + +“Who was St. Rumbald?” asked Elfric innocently. + +“Oh, he was son of the king of Northumbria, and of his queen, the +daughter of the old king Penda of Mercia, and the strange thing is that +he is a saint although he only lived three days.” + +“How could that be?” + +“Why it was a miracle, you see. On the day after his birth he was taken +to Braceleam (Brackley), where he was baptized, and after his baptism +he actually preached an eloquent sermon to the people. They brought him +back to Sutthun next day, where he died, having first blessed this +well, so that many precious gifts of healing are shown thereat. His +relics were removed first to Braceleam, then to Buccingaham +(Buckingham), where his shrine is venerated by the faithful. But come, +you must drink of the holy water.” + +So they approached the spot, and, after much labour to get at the well, +drank of the water, which had a brackish taste, and proceeded on their +journey southward through Kirtlington, then a considerable city, +although now a small village. It was their intention to pass by the +cathedral city of Dorchester, where Wulfstan was then bishop, where +they arrived on the second night of their journey. + +It was the largest city Elfric had as yet seen, possessing several +churches, of which only one now remains. The hand of the ruthless Danes +had not yet been laid heavily upon it, and the magnificence of the +sacred fanes, built by cunning architects from abroad, amazed the +Mercian boy. + +There was the tomb of the great Birinus, the apostle of Mercia, who had +founded the see in the year 630 A.D., and to whose shrine multitudes of +pilgrims flocked each year. But the remains of Roman greatness most +astonished Elfric. The ruins of the amphitheatre situate near the river +Tame were grand even in their decay, and all the imaginative faculties +of the boy were aroused, as one of the most learned inhabitants +described the scenes of former days, of which tradition had been +preserved, the gladiatorial combats, the wild beast fights. + +The heir of Æscendune found hospitality at the episcopal palace, where +Wulfstan,vii once the turbulent Archbishop of York, held his court. The +prelate seemed favourably impressed with his youthful guest, whom he +dismissed with a warm commendation to Dunstan. + +They left the city early in the morning, and passed through Bænesington +(Benson), which having been originally taken from the Welsh by the +Saxon chieftain Cuthulf, in the year 571, became the scene of the great +victory of Offa, the Mercian king, over Cynewulf of Wessex in the year +777. One of Elfric’s ancestors had fought on the side of Offa, and the +exploits of this doughty warrior had formed the subject of a ballad +often sung in the winter evenings at Æscendune, so that Elfric explored +the scene with great curiosity. Inferior to Dorchester, it was still a +considerable town. + +Late at night they reached Reading, where they slept, and started early +on the morrow for London, where they arrived on the evening of the +fourth day. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +LONDON IN THE OLDEN TIME. + + +London, in the days of King Edred, differed widely from the stately and +populous city we know in these days, and almost as widely from the +elegant “_Colonia Augusta_,” or Londinium, of the Roman period. Narrow, +crooked, and unpaved lanes wound between houses, or rather lowly +cottages, built of timber, and roofed with thatch, so that it is not +wonderful that a conflagration was an event to be dreaded. + +Evidence met the eye on every side how utterly the first Englishmen had +failed to preserve the cities they had conquered, and how far inferior +they were in cultivation, or rather civilisation, to the softer race +they had so ruthlessly expelled; for on every side broken pedestal and +shattered column appeared clumsily imbedded in the rude domestic +architecture of our forefathers. + +St. Paul’s Cathedral rose on the hill once sacred to Diana but was +wholly built within the ruins of the vast temple which had once +occupied the site, and which, magnificent in decay, still surrounded it +like an outwork. Further on were the wrecks of the citadel, where once +the stern legionary had watched by day and night, and where Roman +discipline and order had held sway, while the wall raised by +Constantine, broken and imperfect, still rose on the banks of the +river. Near the Ludgate was the palace of the Saxon king, and the ruins +of an aqueduct overshadowed its humbler portal, while without the walls +the river Fleet rolled, amidst vineyards and pleasant meadows dotted +with houses, to join the mighty Thames. + +Edred, the reigning king of England, was the brother of the murdered +Edmund, and, in accordance with the custom of the day, had ascended the +throne on the death of his brother, seeing that the two infant sons of +the late king, Edwy and Edgar, were too young to reign, and the idea of +hereditary right was not sufficiently developed in the minds of our +forefathers to suggest the notion of a regency. It must also be +remembered that, within certain limits, there was an elective power in +the Witenagemot or Parliament, although generally limited in its scope +to members of the royal family. + +Edred was of very delicate constitution, and suffered from an inward +disease which seldom allowed him an interval of rest and ease. Like so +many sufferers he had found his consolation in religion, and the only +crime ever laid to his charge (if it were a crime) was that he loved +the Church too much. Still he had repeatedly proved that he was strong +in purpose and will, and the insurgent Danes who had settled in +Northumbria had owned his prowess. In the internal affairs of his +kingdom he was chiefly governed by the advice of the great ecclesiastic +and statesman, with whose name our readers will shortly become +familiar. + +Upon the morning after the arrival of Elfric in London, Edwy, the young +prince, and his new companion, sat in a room on the upper floor of the +palace, which had but two floors, and would have been considered in +these days very deficient in architectural beauty. + +The window of the room opened upon the river, and commanded a pleasant +view of the woods and meadows on the Surrey side, then almost +uninhabited, being completely unprotected in case of invasion, a +contingency never long absent from the mind in the days of the sea +kings. + +A table covered with manuscripts, both in Latin and Anglo-Saxon, +occupied the centre of the room, and there Elfric was seated, looking +somewhat aimlessly at a Latin vocabulary, while Edwy was standing +listlessly at the window. The “library,” if it deserved the name, was +very unlike a modern library; books were few, and yet very expensive, +so that perhaps there was no fuller collection in any layman’s house in +the kingdom. There were Alfred’s translations into Anglo-Saxon, the +“_Chronicle of Orosius_,” or the history of the World; the “_History of +the Venerable Bede_,” both in his original Latin and in English; +Boethius on the “_Consolations of Philosophy_;” narratives from ancient +mythology; extracts from the works of St. Augustine and St. Gregory; +and the Apologues or Fables from Æsop.viii + +“Oh, put those stupid books aside,” exclaimed the prince; “this is your +first day in town, and I mean to take a holiday; that surly old Dunstan +should have left word to that effect last night.” + +“Will he not be here soon?” + +“Yes, he is coming this morning, the old bear, to superintend my +progress, and I wish him joy thereof.” + +“What has he given you to do?” inquired Elfric. + +“Why, a wretched exercise to write out. There, you see it before you; +isn’t it a nuisance?” + +“It is not very hard, is it?” + +“Don’t you think it hard? See whether you can do it!” + +Elfric smiled, and wrote out the simple Latin with ease, for he had +been well instructed by Father Cuthbert at Æscendune. + +He had scarcely finished when a firm step was heard upon the stairs. + +“Hush,” said Edwy; “here comes Dunstan. Be sure you look solemn +enough,” and he composed his own countenance into an expression of +preternatural gravity. + +The door opened, and an ecclesiastic in the prime of life entered the +room, one whose mien impressed the beholder with an indefinable awe. + +He was dressed in the Benedictine habit, just then becoming common in +England, and his features were those of a man formed by nature to +command, while they reconciled the beholder to the admission of the +fact by the sad yet sweet smile which frequently played on the shapely +countenance. He was now in the thirtieth year of his age, having been +born in the first year of King Athelstane, and had been abbot of +Glastonbury for several years, although his services as counsellor to +King Edred had led him to spend much of his time in town, and he had +therefore accepted the general direction of the education of the heir +to the throne. Such was Dunstan. + +He seemed but little welcome to Edwy, and the benediction with which he +greeted his pupil was but coldly received. + +Not appearing to notice this, he mildly said, “You must introduce your +young companion to me, my prince. Am I not right in concluding that I +see before me Elfric, heir to the lands of Æscendune?” + +Elfric blushed as he bent the knee to the great churchman to receive +the priestly benediction with which he was greeted, but remained +silent. + +“Father Cuthbert, whom I knew well years agone, has told me about you, +and your brother Alfred; is not that his name?” + +“He is so named, my father.” + +“I am glad to perceive that my royal pupil has chosen so meet a +companion, for Father Cuthbert speaks well of your learning. You write +the Latin tongue, he tells me, with some little facility.” + +Elfric feared his powers had been overrated. + +“I trust you have resumed your studies after your long holiday,” +continued Dunstan. “Youth is the season for sowing, age for reaping.” + +“I have had a very bad headache,” said Edwy, “and have only been able +to write a page of Latin. Here it is, father.” + +And he extended the exercise Elfric had written to the abbot, who +looked at the writing for one moment, and then glanced severely at the +prince. The character was very like his own, but there was a +difference. + +“Is this your handwriting, Prince Edwy?” he asked. + +“Of course. Elfric saw me write it, did you not?” + +Elfric was not used to falsehood; he could not frame his lips to say +“Yes.” + +Dunstan observed his confusion, and he turned to the prince with a look +in which contempt seemed to struggle with passive self-possession. + +“I trust, Edwy,” he said, “you will remember that the word of a king is +said to be his bond, and so should the word of a prince be if he ever +hopes to reign. I shall give Father Benedict charge to superintend your +studies as usual.” + +He wished them a grave good morning, and left the room. + +As soon as the last sound of his steps had ceased, Edwy turned sharply +to Elfric—“Why did you not say yes at once? Surely you have a tongue?” + +“It has never learnt to lie.” + +“Pooh! What is the harm of such a white lie as that would have been? If +you cannot give the credit of a Latin exercise, which you happen to +have written, to your future king, you must be selfish; it is my +writing, if you give it me, isn’t it?” + +Elfric did not quite see the matter in that light, yet did not care to +dispute the point; but his conscience was ill at ease, and he was glad +to change the subject. + +“When can we go out?” he said, for he was anxious to see the city. + +“Oh, not till after the midday meal, and you must see the palace first; +come now.” + +So they descended and traversed the various courts of the building; the +dormitories, the great dining hall, the audience chambers where Edred +was then receiving his subjects, who waited in the anteroom, which +alone the two boys ventured to enter. Finally, after traversing several +courts and passages, they reached the guardroom. + +Three or four of the “hus-carles” or household guards were here on +duty. But in the embrasure of the window, poring over a map, sat one of +very different mien from the common soldiers, and whose air and manner, +no less than his dress, proclaimed the officer. + +“Redwald,” said the prince, advancing to the window, “let me make you +acquainted with my friend and companion, Elfric of Æscendune.” + +The officer started, as if with some sudden surprise, but it passed +away so quickly that the beholder might fancy the start had only +existed in imagination, as perhaps it did. + +“This gallant warrior,” said Edwy to Elfric, “is my friend and +counsellor in many ways; and if he lives there shall not be a thane in +England who shall stand above him. You will soon find out his value, +Elfric.” + +“My prince is pleased to flatter his humble servant,” said Redwald. + +But Elfric was gazing upon the soldier with feelings he could scarcely +analyse. There was something in his look and the tone of his voice +which struck a hidden chord, and awoke recollections as if of a +previous existence. + +“Redwald,” as Edwy named him, was tall and dark, with many of the +characteristics of the Danish race about him. His nose was slightly +aquiline, his eyes hid beneath bushy eyebrows, while his massive jaw +denoted energy of character—energy which one instinctively felt was +quite as likely to be exerted for evil as for good. + +He was captain of the hus-carles, and had but recently entered the +royal service. Few knew his lineage. He spoke the Anglo-Saxon tongue +with great fluency, and bore testimonials certifying his valour and +faithfulness from the court of Normandy, where the Northmen under Rollo +had some half-century earlier founded a flourishing state, then ruled +over by the noble Duke “Richard the Fearless.” + +Edwy seemed to be on intimate terms with this soldier of fortune; in +fact, with all his proud anticipation of his future greatness, he was +never haughty to his inferiors, perhaps we should say seldom, for we +shall hereafter note exceptions to this rule. It would be a great +mistake to suppose that the pomp and ceremony of our Norman kings was +shared by their English predecessors: the manners and customs of the +court of Edred were simplicity itself. + +After a few moments of private conversation with Redwald, the boys +returned to their chamber to prepare for dinner. + +“You noted that man,” said Edwy; “well, I don’t know how I should live +without him.” + +Elfric’s looks expressed surprise. + +“You will find out by and by; you have little idea how strictly we are +kept here, and how much one is indebted to one’s servants for the gift +of liberty, especially in Lent and on fast days, when one does not get +half enough to eat, and must sometimes escape the gloom and starvation +of the palace.” + +“Starvation?” + +“What else do you call it, when you get nothing but fish, fish, fish, +and bread and water to help it down. My uncle is awfully religious. I +can hardly stand it sometimes. He would like to spend half the day in +chapel, but, happily for all the rest of us, the affairs of state are +too urgent for that, so we do get a little breathing time, or else I +should have to twist my mouth all of one side singing dolorous chants +and tunes which are worse than a Danish war whoop, for he likes, he +says, to hear the service hearty.” + +“But it helps you on with your Latin.” + +“Not much of that, for I sing anything that comes into my head; the +singing men make such a noise, they can hear no one else, and I fancy +they don’t know what a word of the Latin prayers means.” + +“But isn’t it irreverent—too irreverent, I mean. Father Cuthbert made +me afraid to mock God, he told such stories about judgment.” + +“All fudge and nonsense—oh, I beg your pardon, it is all very godly and +pious, and really I expect to be greatly edified by your piety in +chapel. Pray, when shall you be canonised?” + +Elfric could not bear ridicule, and blushed for the second time that +morning. Just then the bell rang for dinner, or rather was struck with +a mallet by the master of the ceremonies. + +King Edred dined that day, as one might say, in the bosom of his +family; only Dunstan was present, besides the boys Edwy, Edgar his +younger brother, and Elfric. It was then that Elfric first saw the +younger prince, a pale studious-looking boy of twelve, but with a very +firm and intellectual expression of countenance. He was a great +favourite with Dunstan, whom the boy, unlike his brother, regarded with +the greatest respect and reverence. + +The conversation was somewhat stiff; Edred spoke a few kind words to +the young stranger, and then conversed in an undertone with Dunstan, +the whole dinner time; the princes themselves were awed by the presence +of their uncle and his spiritual guide. + +But at last, like all other things, it was over, and with feelings of +joy the boys broke forth from the restraint. The whole afternoon was +spent in seeing the sights of London, and they all three, for Edgar +accompanied them, returned to the evening meal, fatigued in body, but +in high spirits. Compline in the royal chapel terminated the day, as +mass had begun it. + + + + +CHAPTER V. +TEMPTATION. + + +But a few days had passed before Elfric learned the secret of Redwald’s +influence over the young prince. + +The household of Edred was conducted with the strictest propriety.ix +All rose with the lark, and the first duty was to attend at the early +mass in the royal chapel. Breakfast followed, and then the king on +ordinary days gave the whole forenoon to business of state, and he +thought it his duty to see that each member of the royal household had +some definite employment, knowing that idleness was the mother of many +evils. So the young princes had their tasks assigned them by their +tutor, as we have already seen, and the spare hours which were saved +from their studies were given to such practice in the use of the +national weapons as seemed necessary to those who might hereafter lead +armies, or to gymnastic exercises which strengthened nerve and muscle +for a time of need. + +In the afternoon they might ride or walk abroad, but a strict interdict +was placed upon certain haunts where temptation might perchance be +found, and they had to return by evensong, which the king generally +attended in person when at home. Then, in winter, indoor recreations +till compline, for it was a strict rule of the king that his nephews +should not leave the palace after sundown. + +He further caused their tutor, who directed their education under the +supervision of Dunstan—Father Benedict—whom we have already introduced, +to see that they properly discharged all the duties of public and +private devotion. + +But he did not see, in the excess of his zeal, that he was really +destroying the prospects which were nearest his heart, and that there +can be no more fatal mistake than to compel the performance of +religious duties which exceed the measure of the youthful capacity or +endurance. + +With Edgar, who was naturally pious, the system produced no evil +result; but with Edwy the effect was most sad. He had become, as we +have seen, deceitful; and a character, naturally fair, was undermined +to an extent which neither the king nor Dunstan suspected. + +The reader may naturally ask how could Dunstan, so astute as he was, +make this mistake, or at least suffer Edred to make it? + +The fact was that Dunstan understood the affairs of state better than +those of the heart, and although well fitted for a guide to men of +sincere piety, and capable of opposing to the wicked an iron will and +inflexible resolution, he did not understand the young, and seemed to +have forgotten his own youth. Sincerely truthful and straightforward, +he hardly knew whether to feel more disgust or surprise at Edwy’s +evident unfaithfulness. He little knew that unfaithfulness was only one +of his failings, and not the worst. + +A few nights after Elfric’s arrival, when the palace gates had been +shut for the night, the compline service said, the household guard +posted, and the boys had retired to their sleeping apartments, he heard +a low knock at his door. He opened it, and Edwy entered. + +“Are you disposed for a pleasant evening, Elfric?” + +“Such pleasure as there is in sleep.” + +“No, I do not mean that. We cannot sleep, like bears in winter, during +all the hours which should be given to mirth. I am going out this +evening, and I want you to go with me.” + +“Going out?” + +“Yes. Don’t stand staring there, as if I was talking Latin or something +harder; but get your shoes on again— + +“No; you had better come down without shoes; it will make less noise.” + +“But how can we get out? I have not the least idea where you are +going?” + +“All in good time. We shall get out easily enough. Are you coming?” + +Half fearful, yet not liking to resist the prince, and his curiosity +pressing him to solve the secret, Elfric followed Edwy down the stairs +to the lower hall, where Redwald was on guard. He seemed to await the +lads, for he bowed at once to the prince and proceeded to the outer +door, where, at an imperious signal from him, the warder threw the +little inner portal open, and the three passed out. + +“Is the boat ready?” said Edwy. + +“It is; and trusty rowers await you.” + +Redwald led the way to the river’s brink, and there pointed out a skiff +lying at a short distance from the shore. At a signal, the men who +manned it pulled in and received the two youths on board, then pulled +at once out into the stream. + +“How do you like an evening on the river?” said Edwy. + +“It is very beautiful, and the stars are very bright tonight; but where +are we going?” + +“You will soon find out.” + +Finding his royal companion so uncommunicative, Elfric remained silent, +trusting that a few minutes would unravel the mystery. + +But an hour had passed, during which the boat steadily progressed up +stream, before the watermen pulled in for the shore, and a dark +building loomed before them in dim shadow. + +“Here is the place,” said Edwy. “Be ready, my men, to take us back +about midnight, or a little later;” and he threw some pieces of money +amongst them. + +Passing through a large garden, they arrived at a porch before a stout +door garnished with knobs of iron, which might bid defiance to thief or +burglar. + +“Whose house is this?” asked Elfric. + +“Wait; you shall soon see.” + +The loud knocking Edwy made at the door soon brought some domestics, +who, opening a small wicket, discovered the identity of their principal +visitor, and immediately threw open the door. + +“Thanks,” said Edwy; “we were almost frozen.” + +Passing through a kind of atrium—for the old Roman fashion was still +sometimes followed in this particular—the domestics ushered the +visitors into a room brilliantly lighted by torches stuck in cressets +projecting from the walls, and by huge wax candles upon a table spread +for a feast. The light revealed a small but apparently select party, +who seemed to await the prince: a lady, who appeared to be the mistress +of the mansion; a young girl apparently about the age of Edwy, who, +calling her his fair cousin, saluted her fondly; and two or three +youths, whose gaudy dress and affected manners were strongly in +contrast with the stern simplicity of the times. + +After saluting each person with the greatest freedom, Edwy introduced +his companion. + +“Here is a young novice I have brought to learn the noble art of +merrymaking, of wine and wassail. We have both been literally starved +at the palace—I should say monastery—of Monk Edred today. It is Friday, +and we have been splendidly dining upon salt fish served up on golden +salvers. My goodness! the flavour of that precious cod is yet in my +mouth. Food for cats, I do assure you, and served up to kings. What did +you think of it, Elfric?” + +Elfric was ashamed to say that it had not been so very bad after all. +Truth to say his conscience was uneasy, for he had been brought up to +respect the fasts of the Church, and he saw a trial awaiting him in the +luscious dishes before him. + +“What does it matter?” the reader may exclaim; “it is not that which +goeth into the mouth which defileth a man,” etc. + +True, most wise critic, but it is that which goeth out; and if +disobedience be not amongst the evils which defile, then Adam did not +fall in Paradise when he ate the forbidden fruit. Elfric could not +touch flesh on fast days without the instinctive feeling that he was +doing wrong, and no one can sin against the conviction of the heart +without danger. + +The party now seated themselves, and without any grace or further +preface the feast began. Servants appeared and served up the most +exquisite dishes, of a delicacy almost unknown in England at that day, +and poured rich wines into silver goblets. It was evident that wealth +abounded in the family they were visiting, and that they had expended +it freely for the gratification of Edwy. + +Ethelgiva, the lady of the house, was of noble presence, which almost +seemed to justify the claim of royal blood which was made for her. Tall +and commanding, age had not bent her form, although her locks were +already white. Her beauty, which must have been marvellous in her +younger days, had attracted the attention of a younger son of the +reigning house, and they were married at an early age, secretly, +without the sanction of the king. + +The fruit of their union was Elgiva, a name destined to fill a place in +a sad and painful tragedy; but we are anticipating, and must crave the +reader’s pardon. + +Bright and cheerful indeed was the fair Elgiva at this moment. Her +beauty was remarkable even in a land so famed for the beauty of its +daughters; and the ill-advised Edwy may be pitied, if not altogether +pardoned, for his infatuation, for infatuation it was in a day when the +near tie of blood between them precluded the possibility of lawful +matrimony, save at the expense of a dispensation never likely to be +conceded, since the temperament of men like Odo, the Archbishop of +Canterbury, and of Dunstan, was opposed to any relaxation of the law in +the case of the great when such relaxation was unattainable by the poor +and lowly. + +To return to our subject: + +The feast proceeded with great animation. At first Elfric hesitated +when the meat was placed before him, but he withered, in his weakness, +before the mocking smile of Edwy, and the sarcasm which played upon the +lips of the rest of the company, who perceived his hesitation. So he +yielded, and, shaking off all restraint, ate heartily. + +Dish followed dish, and the wine cup circulated with great freedom. +Excited as he was, Elfric could but remark the loose tone of the +conversation. Subjects were freely discussed which had never found +admittance either in the palace of King Edred or at Æscendune, and +which, indeed, caused him to look up with surprise, remembering in +whose presence he sat. + +But, as is often the case in an age where opinion is severely repressed +in its outward expression, and amongst those compelled against their +will to observe silence on such subjects on ordinary occasions, all +restraint seemed abandoned at the table of Ethelgiva. It was not that +the language was coarse, but whether the conversation turned upon the +restraints of the clergy, or the court, or upon the fashionable +frivolities of the day—for there were frivolities and fashions even in +that primitive age—there was a freedom of expression bordering upon +profanity or licentiousness. + +Edred was mocked as an old babbler; Dunstan was sometimes a fool, +sometimes a hypocrite, sometimes even a sorcerer, although this was +said sneeringly; the clergy were divided into fools and knaves; the +claims of the Church—that is of Christianity—derided, and the principle +freely avowed—“Enjoy life while you can, for you know not what may come +after.” + +Excited by the wine he had drunk, Elfric became as wild in his talk as +the other young men, and as the intoxicating drink mounted to his +brain, seemed to think that he had just learnt how to enjoy life. + +The ladies retired at last, and Edwy followed them. Elfric was on the +point of rising too, but a hint from his companions restrained him. The +wine cup still circulated, the conversation, now unrestrained, +initiated the boy into many an evil secret he had never known earlier; +and so the hours passed on, till Edwy, himself much flushed, came in +and said that it was time to depart, for midnight had long been tolled +from the distant towers of London. + +He smiled as he saw by Elfric’s bloodshot eyes and unsteady gait, as he +rose, upsetting his seat, that his companion was something less master +of himself than usual; he felt, it need hardly be said, no remorse, but +rather regarded the whole thing as what might now be termed “a jolly +lark.” + +“Shall you require bearers, or can you walk to the boat? I do not +wonder you are ill, you have eaten too much fish today; it is a shame +to make the knees weak through fasting in this style.” + +“I—I—am all right now.” + +“You will be better in the air.” + +So, bidding a farewell of somewhat doubtful character to his +entertainers, Elfric was assisted to the boat. The air did not revive +him, he felt wretchedly feverish and giddy, and could hardly tell how +he reached the river. + +Reach it, however, he did, and the strong arms of the watermen impelled +the boat rapidly down the tide, until it reached the stairs near the +palace. + +Here Redwald was in waiting, and assisted them to land. + +“You are very late, or rather early,” he said. + +“Yes,” said Edwy, “but it has been a jolly evening, only poor Elfric +has been ill, having of course weakened himself by fasting.” + +Redwald smiled such a scornful smile, and muttered some words to +himself. Yet it did not seem as if he were altogether displeased at the +state in which he saw Elfric. It may be added that Edwy was but little +better. + +“You must keep silent,” said Redwald; “I believe the king and Dunstan +are hearing matins in the chapel: it is the festival of some saint or +other, who went to the gridiron in olden days.” + +The outer gate of the palace was cautiously opened, and, taking off +their shoes, the youths ascended the stairs which led to their +apartments as lightly as possible. + +“Send the leech Sigebert to us in the morning—he must report Elfric +unwell—for he will hardly get up to hear Dunstan mumble mass.” + +“Perhaps your royal highness had better rest also.” + +“And bring suspicion upon us both? No,” said Edwy, “one will be enough +to report ill at once; Dunstan is an old fox.” + +Poor Elfric could hardly get to bed, and, almost for the first time +since infancy, he laid himself down without one prayer. Edwy left him +in the dark, and there he lay, his head throbbing, and a burning thirst +seeming to consume him. + +Long before morning he was very sick, and when the bell was sounded for +the early mass it need hardly be said that he was unable to rise. + +Sigebert the physician, who, like Redwald, was in the confidence of the +future king, Edwy, came in to see him, and asked what was the matter. + +“I am very sick and ill,” gasped Elfric. + +“I suppose you have taken something that disagreed with you—too much +fish perhaps.” (with a smile). + +“No—no—I do not—” + +“I understand,” said the leech; “you will soon be better; meanwhile, I +will account for your absence at chapel. Here, take this medicine; you +will find it relieve you.” + +And he gave Elfric a mixture which assuaged his burning thirst, and +bathed his forehead with some powerful essence which refreshed him +greatly, whereupon the leech departed. + +Only an hour later, and Edred, hearing from the physician of Elfric’s +sudden illness, came in to see the boy, whose bright cheerful face and +merry disposition had greatly attracted him. This was hardest of all +for Elfric to bear; he had to evade the kind questions of the king, and +to hear expressions of sympathy which he felt he did not deserve. + +More than once he felt inclined to tell all, but the fear of the prince +restrained him, and also a sense of what he thought honour, for he +would not betray his companion, and he could not confess his own guilt +without implicating Edwy. + +Poor boy! it would have been far better for him had he done so: he had +taken his first step downward. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +LOWER AND LOWER. + + +It becomes our painful duty to record that from the date of the feast, +described in our last chapter, the character of poor Elfric underwent +rapid deterioration. In the first place, the fact of his having yielded +to the forbidden indulgence, and—as he felt—disgraced himself, gave +Edwy, as the master of the secret, great power over him, and he never +failed to use this power whenever he saw any inclination on the part of +his vassal to throw off the servitude. It was not that he deliberately +intended to injure Elfric, but he had come to regard virtue as either +weakness or hypocrisy, at least such virtues as temperance, purity, or +self restraint. + +The great change which was creeping over Elfric became visible to +others: he seemed to lose his bright smile; the look of boyish +innocence faded from his countenance, and gave place to an expression +of sullen reserve; he showed less ardour in all his sports and +pastimes, became subject to fits of melancholy, and often seemed lost +in thought, anxious thought, in the midst of his studies. + +He seldom had the power, even if the will, to communicate with home. +Mercia was in many respects an independent state, subject to the same +king, but governed by a code of laws differing from those of Wessex; +and it was only when a royal messenger or some chance traveller left +court for the banks of the Midland Avon, that Elfric could use the art +of writing, a knowledge he was singular in possessing, thanks to the +wisdom of his sire. + +So the home authorities knew little of the absent one, for whom they +offered up many a fervent prayer, and of whom they constantly spoke and +thought. And yet, so mysterious are the ways of Providence, it seemed +as if these prayers were unanswered—seemed indeed, yet they were not +forgotten before God. + +Seemed forgotten; for Elfric was rapidly becoming reckless. Many +subsequent scenes of indulgence had followed the first one, and other +haunts, residences of licentious young nobles, or taverns, had been +sought out by the youths, and always by Redwald’s connivance. + +He was Edwy’s evil genius, and always seemed at hand whensoever the +prince sought occasion to sin. Still, he was not at all suspected by +Edred, before whom he kept up an appearance of the strictest +morality—always punctual in his attendance at mass, matins, and +evensong, and with a various stock of phrases of pious import ready at +tongue in case of need or opportunity of using them to advantage. + +To Elfric, his behaviour was always reserved, yet he seemed even more +ready to lend him a helping hand downward than did the prince. + +So time passed on; weeks became months; and Christmas with all its +hallowed associations had passed; it had been Elfric’s first Christmas +away from home, and he was sad at heart, in spite of the boisterous +merriment of his companions. The spring of the year 955 came on, and +Lent drew near, a season to which Edwy looked forward with great dread, +for, as he said, there would be nothing in the whole palace to eat +until Easter, and he could not even hope to bribe the cook. + +The canons of the church required all persons to make confession, and +so enter upon the fast tide, having “thus purified their minds;” x it +may, alas! be easily guessed how the guilty lads performed this duty, +how enforced confession only led to their adding the sin of further +deceit, and that of a deadly kind. + +Thus they entered upon Lent: their abstinence was entirely compulsory, +not voluntary; and although they made up for it in some degree when +they could get away from the palace, yet even this was difficult, for +it was positively unlawful for butchers to sell or for people to buy +meat at the prohibited seasons, and the law was not easily evaded. But +it was a prayerless Lent also to Elfric, for he had, alas! even +discontinued his habit of daily prayer, a habit he had hitherto +maintained from childhood, a habit first learned at his mother’s knee. + +Holy Week came, and was spent with great strictness; the king seemed to +divide his whole time between the business of state and the duties of +religion. + +Dunstan was absent at Glastonbury, but other ecclesiastics thronged the +palace, and there were few, save the guilty boys and Redwald, who +seemed uninfluenced by the solemn commemoration. + +But it must not be supposed that Elfric was wholly uninfluenced: after +the preaching of the Passion by a poor simple monk on Good Friday, he +retired to his own little room, where he wept as if his heart would +break. Had Dunstan been then in town, the whole story would have been +told, and much misery saved, for Elfric felt he could trust him if he +could trust anybody; but unhappily Dunstan was, as we have seen, +keeping Passiontide at his abbey. + +Still, Elfric felt he must tell all, and submit to the advice and +penance which might be imposed; and as he sat weeping over his sin that +Good Friday night, with the thought that he might find pardon and peace +through the Great Sacrifice so touchingly pleaded that day, he felt +that the first step to amendment must lie in a full and frank +confession of all; he knew he should grievously offend Edwy, and that +he should lose the favour of his future king, but he could not help it. + +“Why, oh why did I leave Æscendune, dear Æscendune?—fool that I was—I +will go back.” + +And a sweet desire of home and kindred rose up before him—of his +father’s loving welcome, his fond mother’s chaste kiss, and of the dear +old woods and waters—the hallowed associations of his home life. He +rose up to seek Father Benedict, determined to enter upon the path of +peace at any cost, when Edwy entered. + +He did not see in the gathering darkness the traces of emotion visible +on poor Elfric’s countenance, and he began in his usual careless +way—“How are you, Elfric, my boy; glad Lent is nearly over? What a +dismal time that wretched monk preached this morning!” + +“Edwy, I am utterly miserable: I must tell all; I cannot live like this +any longer.” + +“What a burst of penitence! go to confession; to be sure it looks well, +and if one can only manage to get out a few tears they account him a +saint; tell me the receipt.” + +“But, Edwy, I must tell all!” + +“Not if you are wise.” + +“Why not? It is all in secrecy.” + +“No it is not; you will be required as a penance to go and tell the +king all that we have done; you may do so, and I will manage to +represent matters so as to throw the whole blame on you; you will be +sent home in disgrace.” + +Poor Elfric hung down his head; the thought of his disgrace reaching +home had not occurred to him. + +“Come,” said Edwy, “I don’t want to be hard upon you. Cheer up, my man. +What have you done amiss? Only enjoyed yourself as nature has guided +you. Why should you think God meant us to pass through life like those +miserable shavelings Edred delights to honour? Cheer up, Elfric; your +bright face was never meant for that of a hypocrite. If you are so +dreadfully bad, you are in a pretty numerous company; and I don’t think +the shavelings believe their own tales about fire and torment +hereafter. They are merry enough, considering.” + +In short, poor Elfric’s short-lived penitence was given to the winds. +Edwy went alone to be shriven on the morrow. + +On Easter Day they both received the Holy Communion in the royal +chapel. + +From that time remorse ceased to visit the heir of Æscendune, as if he +had at last quenched the Spirit, and he became so utterly wild and +reckless, that at last Dunstan thought it necessary to speak to him +privately on the subject. It was nearly six months after Easter. + +The boy entered the study set apart for the use of the great monk and +statesman with a palpitating heart, but he managed to repress its +beatings, and put on a perfectly unconcerned expression of countenance. +He had gained in self control if in nothing else. + +“I wished to speak with you, Elfric,” said the abbot, “upon a very +serious matter. When you first came here, I was delighted to have you +as a companion to the prince. You were evidently well brought up, and +bore an excellent character; but, I grieve to say, you have greatly +changed for the worse. Are you not aware of it?” + +“No, father. What have I done?” + +Dunstan sighed at the tone of the reply, and continued—“It is not any +particular action of which I wish to accuse you, but of the general +tenor of your conduct. I do not speak harshly, my boy; but if truth be +told, you are as idle as you were once diligent, as sullen and reserved +as once candid and open: and, my son, your face tells a tale of even +worse things, and, but that I am puzzled to know where you could obtain +the means of self indulgence, I should attribute more serious vices to +you.” + +“Who has accused me, father?” + +“Yourself—that is, your own face and manner. Did you ever contemplate +yourself in a mirror when at home? There is a steel one against that +wall, go and look at yourself now.” + +Elfric blushed deeply. + +“My face is still the same,” he said. + +“It is the same, and yet not the same. Innocence once took her place at +its portals, and had sealed it as her own; the expression is all +changed; my boy, I am absolutely certain that all is not well with you. +For your own sake, delay no longer to avoid the danger of losing your +salvation, for the habits you form now will perhaps cling to you +through life. Turn now to your own self; confess your sin, and be at +peace.” + +“I came to confession at Shrovetide; I am not required to come now, am +I?” + +“Required? No, my boy, it is your own sense of guilt, alone, which +should draw you. The Church, since there has been no public scandal, +leaves you to your own judgment at such a time as this. Have you never +felt such remorse of conscience as would tell you your duty?” + +“Never.” + +He thought of Good Friday, and blushed. + +“Your tone and words belie each other, my boy. God grant you +repentance; you will not accept my help now, but the time may come when +you will seek help in vain.” + +Elfric bowed, without reply, and at a sign left the chamber. + +A few weeks later, at the beginning of November, Edred left London for +a tour in the west, and quitted his nephews with more than his usual +affection, although his goodbye to Elfric was more constrained, for the +good old king, not knowing the whole truth, was beginning to fear that +Elfric was a dangerous companion. He little thought that he was rather +sinned against than sinning. + +Dunstan was to follow him in a week, and only remained behind to +discharge necessary business. + +The heart of the amorous Edwy beat with delight as he saw his uncle +depart, and he made arrangements at once to spend the night after +Dunstan’s departure in mirth and jollity at the house of Ethelgiva and +her fair daughter. + +He came back after an interview with Redwald on the subject, and found +Elfric in their common study. There was an alcove in the room, and it +was covered by a curtain. + +“O Elfric,” said the prince, “is it not delightful? The two tyrants, +the king and the monk, will soon be gone. I wish the Evil One would fly +off with them both, and when the cat is away will not the mice play? I +have made all the arrangements; we shall have such a night at the lady +Ethelgiva’s.” + +“How is the fair Elgiva?” + +It was now Edwy’s turn to blush and look confused. + +“I wish I had the power of teasing you, Elfric. But if you have a +secret you keep it close. Remember old Dunstan vanishes on the +fifteenth, and the same evening, oh, won’t it be joyful? But I am tired +of work. Come and let us take some fresh air.” + +They left the room, when the curtain parted, and the astonished +countenance of Father Benedict, who had been quietly reading in the +deep embrasure of the window, presently appeared. He looked like a man +at whose feet a thunderbolt had fallen, and hastily left the room. + +The week passed rapidly away, and at its close Dunstan took his +departure. A train of horses awaited him, and he bade the young princes +Edwy and Edgar farewell, with the usual charge to work diligently and +obey Father Benedict. + +That same night, after the clerks had sung compline in the chapel, and +the chamberlain had seen to the safety of the palace, Edwy came quietly +to the room of his page, and the two left as on the first occasion. +Redwald attended them, and just before the boat left the bank he spoke +a word of caution. + +“I fear,” he said, in a low tone, “that all is not quite right. That +old fox Dunstan is up to some trick; he has not really left town.” + +“Perhaps he has a similar appointment tonight,” said Edwy, +sarcastically. “I should keep mine though he and all his monks from +Glastonbury barred the way.” + +They reached the castellated mansion of Ethelgiva in due course, and +the programme of the former evening was repeated, save that, if there +was any change, the conversation was more licentious, and the wine cup +passed more freely. + +It was midnight, and one of the company was favouring them with a song +of questionable propriety, when a heavy knock was heard at the door. +The servants went to answer it, and all the company awaited the issue +in suspense. + +One of the principal domestics returned with haste, and whispered some +words into the ear of Ethelgiva—which seemed to discompose her. + +“What can this mean?” she said. “A guard of soldiers demand admittance +in the king’s name?” + +A louder knocking attested the fact. + +“You must admit them, or they will batter the door down. Edwy, Elfric! +here, hide yourselves behind that curtain, it veils a deep recess.” + +They had scarcely concealed themselves when Dunstan entered, attended +by a guard of the royal hus-carles. + +“What means this insolence?” said Ethelgiva. + +“No insolence is intended, royal lady, nor could be offered to the +widow of the Etheling, by me,” replied Dunstan, “but I seek to +discharge a sacred trust committed to me. Where are my pupils, the +Prince Edwy and his companion?” + +“In their beds, at the palace, I should suppose.” + +“Nay, be not so perfidious; they are here, lady, and probably within +hearing; they must come forth, or I must order the guard to search the +house, which I should regret.” + +“By whose authority?” + +“By that of the king, whose signet is on my hand.” + +“They are not here; they left half-an-hour ago.” + +“Pardon me, madam, if I observe that we have watched the house for an +hour. + +“Had not this scene better terminate?” he added, with icy coldness. + +At this moment a favourite dog, which Edwy had often petted, and which +had entered with the guard, found him out behind the curtain, and in +its vociferous joy betrayed the whole secret. + +Confusion or smiles sat on every face save that of the imperturbable +Dunstan. + +“Your dog, madam, is more truthful than its mistress,” he said, bluntly +yet quietly; and then, advancing to the recess, he drew aside the +curtain and gazed upon the discovered couple. + +“Will you kindly return to the palace with me?” + +“How dare you, insolent monk, intrude upon the pleasures of your future +king?” + +“I dare by the orders of the present king, your royal uncle, who has +committed the whole matter into my hands; and, Prince Edwy, in the +discharge of my duty ‘dare’ is a superfluous word. Will you, as I said +before, both follow me, if you are sufficiently masters of yourselves +to do so?” + +The import of all this was seen at a glance, but there was no course +but submission, and Edwy well knew how utterly indefensible his conduct +was; so, with crestfallen gait, he and Elfric followed their captor to +the river, where was another large boat by the side of their own. They +entered it, and returned to the palace stairs much more sober than on +previous occasions. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +“THE KING IS DEAD!—LONG LIVE THE KING!” + + +The unhappy Elfric passed the night in a most unenviable frame of mind. +He felt distinctly how utterly he was in the power of Dunstan, and that +he could only expect to return home in disgrace; yet there was no real +repentance in all this: he had sinned and suffered, but although he +dreaded punishment he no longer hated sin. + +He scarcely slept at all, and early in the morning he rose to seek an +interview with Edwy, when he found that he was a prisoner. One of the +hus-carles posted at his door forbade all communication. + +Early in the morning the bell sounded for the early service, still he +was not released, and later his breakfast was brought to him, after +which he heard a heavy step approaching, and Dunstan appeared at the +door of the sleeping chamber. + +He entered, and gazed at Elfric for a moment without speaking, as if he +would read his very heart by his face; it was hardly comfortable. + +“Elfric,” he said at last, “do you remember the warning I gave you six +months ago?” + +“No,” said Elfric, determined, in desperation, to deny everything. + +“I fear you are hardly telling me the truth; you must remember it, +unhappy boy! Why were you not warned in time? Why did you refuse the +advice which might have saved you from all this?” + +“Because it was my fate, I suppose.” + +“Men make their own fates, and as they make their beds so must they lie +upon them; however, I have not come here to reproach you, but to bid +you prepare to return home.” + +“Home?—so soon?” said Elfric. + +“Yes, you must leave tomorrow, when a messenger will be prepared to +accompany you, and to explain the cause of your dismissal from court to +your father, whom I most sincerely pity; and let me hope that you will +find leisure to repent of your grievous sin in the solitude of your +native home.” + +“Must my father be told everything?” + +“I fear he must: you have left us no choice; and it is the better +thing, both for him and for you; he will understand better what steps +are necessary for your reformation—a reformation, I trust, which will +be accomplished in good time, whereat no one will rejoice more than I.” + +A pert answer rose to Elfric’s lips, but he dared not give utterance to +it; the speaker was too great in his wrath to be defied with impunity. + +“Farewell,” said Dunstan, “would that I could say the word with +brighter hopes; but should you ever repent of your sin, as I trust you +may, it will gladden me to hear of it. I fear you may have done great +harm to England in the person of her future king, but God forgive you +in that case.” + +Elfric felt the injustice of the last accusation; he coloured, and an +indignant denial had almost risen to his lips, but he repressed it for +Edwy’s sake—faithful, even in his vice, to his friend. + +“Am I to consider myself a prisoner? you have posted a sentinel, as if +I were a criminal.” + +“You must be confined to your apartment, but you may have books and +anything else you desire. The prince is forbidden to see you again. +Your confinement will only be for one day; tomorrow you will be free +enough; let me beg you to use the occasion for calm reflection, and, I +hope, penitence.” + +Dunstan left the room, and Elfric heard his retreating steps go heavily +down the stairs, when a sudden and almost unaccountable feeling came +over him—a feeling that he had thrown himself away, and that he was +committed to evil, perhaps never to be able to retrace his course, +never to all eternity; the retreating steps sounded as if his sentence +were passed and the door of mercy shut. He shook off the strange +feeling; yet, could he have seen the future which lay undiscovered +before him, and which must intervene before he should see that face +again, or hear those steps, he might have been unable thus to shake off +the nameless dread. + +The day wore away, night drew on; he laid himself down and tried to +sleep, when he heard voices conversing outside, and recognised Edwy’s +tones; immediately after the prince entered. + +“What a shame, Elfric,” he said, “to make you a prisoner like this, and +to send you away—for they say you are to go tomorrow —you shall not be +forgotten if ever I become king, and I don’t think it will be long +first. The first thing I shall do will be to send for you; you will +come; won’t you?” + +“I will be yours for life or death.” + +“I knew it, and this is the faithful friend from whom they would +separate me; well, we will have this last evening together in peace; +old Dunstan has gone out, and Redwald has put a man as your guard who +never sees anything he is not wanted to see.” + +“What a convenient thing!” + +“But you seem very dull; is anything on your mind which I do not know? +What did Dunstan say to you?” + +“He is going to write home to my father all particulars. It will make +home miserable.” + +“Perhaps we may find a remedy for that,” said Edwy, and left the room +hastily. + +Shortly he returned in company with Redwald. + +“Come with us, Elfric,” said the prince “there is no one in the palace +to interfere with us. Old Dunstan received a sudden message, and has +gone out hastily; we will go and see what he has written.” + +Somewhat startled at the audacity of the proposal, Elfric followed the +prince, and Redwald accompanied them. After passing through a few +passages, they arrived at the cell, or rather study, usually occupied +by Dunstan when at court, and entered it, not without a slight feeling +of dread, or rather of reluctance. + +“Here it is,” said Edwy, and held up a parchment, folded, sealed, and +directed to “Ella, Thane of Æscendune.” + +“I should like to know what he has written,” said the prince. “Redwald, +you understand these things; can you open the letter without breaking +the seal?” + +“There is no need of that,” replied the captain of the hus-carles, “I +can easily seal it again; see, there is the signet, and here the wax.” + +So he broke the letter open and extended it to the prince, whose +liberal education had given him the faculty of reading the monkish +Latin, in which Dunstan wrote, at a glance, and he read aloud: + +“TO MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, + +“ELLA, THANE OF ÆSCENDUNE— + +“It grieveth me much, most beloved brother, to be under the necessity +of sending your son Elfric home in some little disgrace; but it is, +alas a necessity that I should do so, in virtue of the authority our +good lord and king, Edred, hath entrusted to me. The lad was bright, +and, I think, innocent of aught like deadly sin, when he came to this +huge Babel, where the devil seems to lead men even as he will, and he +hath fallen here into evil company—nay, into the very company most evil +of all in this wicked world, that of designing and shameless women, +albeit of noble birth. It hath been made apparent to me that there is +great danger to both the prince and your son in any further connection, +therefore I return Elfric to your care, sincerely hoping that, by God’s +help, you will be enabled to take such measures as will lead to his +speedy reformation, for which I devoutly pray. The bearer will give +such further information as you may desire. + +“Wishing you health, and an abiding place in the favour of God and His +saints—Your brother in the faith of Christ, + +“DUNSTAN, O.S.B.” + +Edwy read the letter aloud with many a vindictive comment, and then +said to Redwald—“What can be done? Must this letter go?” + +“Does your father know the Saint’s handwriting, Elfric?” + +“He never heard from him before, I believe.” + +“Well, then, I will venture to enclose a different message,” and he sat +down at the table, and wrote—“TO MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, + +“ELLA, THANE OF ÆSCENDUNE— + +“It rejoiceth me much, most beloved brother, to send you good tidings +of the good behaviour and growth in grace of your son, whom the king +hath concluded to send home for the benefit of his health, since London +hath in some degree destroyed the ruddy hue of his countenance, and he +needeth a change, as his paleness sufficiently declareth. + +“The king hath bidden me express his great satisfaction with the lad’s +conduct, and the prince mourneth his enforced departure. Wishing you +health and an abiding place in the favour of God and His saints—Your +brother in the faith of Christ, + +“DUNSTAN, O.S.B.” + +The boys laughed aloud as they read the forgery. + +“But about the messenger—will he not tell the truth?” + +“Oh, I will see to him, he is not above a bribe, and knows it is his +interest to serve his future king, although Dunstan thinks him so +trusty.” + +All at once the booming of a heavy bell smote their ears. + +“It is the bell of St. Paul’s, it tolls for the death of some noble,” +said Redwald; “what can it mean? has any member of the royal family +been ill?” + +They listened to the solemn dirge-like sound as it floated through the +air, calling upon all good Christians to pray for the repose of the +departed or departing soul. No prayer rose to their lips, and they soon +returned to the subject in hand. + +“When is the letter to be despatched?” + +“Early in the morning the messenger will await you; and now, I should +recommend some sleep to prepare for a fatiguing journey.” + +Elfric and the prince returned to their chamber, but they did not take +Redwald’s hint, and remained talking till just before daybreak, when +they were aroused by the hasty step of an armed heel, and Redwald stood +before them. His demeanour was very strange; he bent down on one knee, +took the hand of Edwy, who resigned it passively to him, kissed it and +cried aloud—“God save the king!” + +“What can you mean, Redwald?” exclaimed both the youths. + +“Heard you not the passing bell last night? Edred sleeps with his +fathers; he died at Frome on St. Clement’s day.” + +For a moment they were both silent. + +“And Edwy, the great grandson of Alfred, is king of England.” + +At first the young prince was deeply shocked at the sudden news of the +death of his uncle, to whom, in spite of appearances, he was somewhat +attached. He turned pale, and was again silent for some minutes; at +last, he gulped down a cup of water, and asked—“But how did Dunstan +know?” + +“Why, it is a strange tale. Three days ago, at the very hour the king +must have died, he says that he saw a bright light, and beheld a vision +of angels, who said, ‘Edred hath died in the Lord,’ but he treated it +as a dream, and last night a messenger came with the news of the sudden +illness of the king, bidding Dunstan hasten to his side. He left +everything, and started immediately, but in a few miles met another +messenger, bearing the news of the death. He has gone on, but sent the +messenger forward to the Bishop of London, who caused the great bell to +be tolled. + +“We must all die some day,” said Edwy, musingly; “but it is very very +sudden.” + +“And I trust he has obtained a better kingdom,” added Redwald; “he +must, you know, if the monks tell the truth, so why should we weep for +him?” + +“At least,” said Edwy, looking up, “Elfric need not go home now.” + +“No, certainly not, but he had better disappear from court for a time. +The lady Ethelgiva might afford him hospitality, or he might stay at +the royal palace at Kingston. I will tell the messenger to keep out of +the way, and Dunstan may suppose that his orders have been obeyed to +the letter.” + +“Why should we trouble what he may think or say?” + +“Because the Witan has not yet met, and until it has gone through the +form, the mere form, of recognising your title, you are not actually +king. Dunstan has some influence. Suppose he should use it for Edgar?” + +“Edgar, the pale-faced little priestling!” + +“All the better for that in Dunstan’s eyes. Nay, be advised, my king; +keep all things quiet until the coronation is over, then let Dunstan +know who you are and who he is.” + +“Indeed I will. He shall have cause to rue his insolent behaviour the +other night.” + +“Bide your time, my liege; and now the great officers of state require +your presence below.” + +A few days later a sorrowful procession entered the old city of +Winchester, the capital of Wessex, and once a favourite residence of +Edred, now to be his last earthly resting place. Much had the citizens +loved him; and as the long train defiled into the open space around the +old minster—old, even then—the vast assemblage, grouped beneath the +trees around the sacred precincts, lifted up their voices and joined in +the funeral hymn, while many wept tears of genuine sorrow. It was awe +inspiring, that burst of tuneful wailing, as the monks entered the +sacred pile, and it made men’s hearts thrill with the sense of the +unseen world into which their king had entered, and where, as they +believed, their supplications might yet follow him. + +There were the chief mourners—Edwy and Edgar—and they followed the +royal corpse, the latter greatly afflicted, and shedding genuine tears +of sorrow—and the royal household. All the nobility of Wessex, and many +of the nobles from Mercia and other provinces, were gathered together, +and amidst the solemn silence of the vast crowd, Dunstan performed the +last sad and solemn rites with a broken voice; while the archbishop—Odo +the Good, as he was frequently called—assisted in the dread solemnity. + +It was over; the coffin was lowered to the royal vaults to repose in +peace, the incenses had ceased to float dreamily beneath the lofty +roof,xi the various lights which had borne part in the ceremony were +extinguished, the choral anthem had ceased, for Edred slept with his +fathers. + +And outside, the future king was welcomed with loud cries of “God save +King Edwy, and make him just as Alfred, pious as Edred, and warlike as +Athelstane!” + +“Long live the heir of Cerdic’s ancient line!” + +Thus their cries anticipated the decision of the Witan, and without all +was noise and clamour; while within the sacred fane the ashes of him +who had so lately ruled England rested in peace by the side of his +royal father Edward, the son of Alfred, three of whose sons—Athelstane, +Edmund, Edred—had now reigned in succession. + +It must not be supposed that Edwy was as yet king by the law of the +land. The early English writers all speak of their kings as elected; it +was not until the Witan had recognised them, that they were crowned and +assumed the royal prerogatives. + +Edwy had followed Redwald’s advice: he had kept Elfric out of the way, +and meant to do so until his coronation day. And meanwhile he +condescended to disguise his real feelings, and to affect sorrow for +his past failings when in the presence of Dunstan. + +Yet he took advantage of the greater liberty he now enjoyed to renew +his visits to the mansion up the Thames, and to spend whole days in the +society of Elgiva. In their simplicity and deep love they thought all +the obstacles to their happy union now removed. Alas! ill-fated pair! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +THE CORONATION. + + +Nothing could exceed in solemnity the “hallowing of the king,” as the +coronation ceremony was termed in Anglo-Saxon times. It was looked upon +as an event of both civil and ecclesiastical importance, and therefore +nothing was omitted which could lend dignity to the occasion. + +The Witan, or parliament, had already met and given its consent to the +coronation of Edwy. It was not, as we have already remarked, a mere +matter of course that the direct heir should occupy the throne. Edred +had already ascended, while Edwy, the son of his elder brother, was an +infant, not as regent, but as king; and in any case of unfitness on the +part of the heir apparent, it was in the power of the Witan to pass him +over, and to choose for the public good some other member of the royal +house. The same Witan conferred upon Edgar the title of sub-king of +Mercia under his brother. + +Solemn and imposing was the meeting of the Witenagemot, or “assembly of +the wise.” It was divided into three estates. The first consisted of +the only class who, as a rule, had any learning in those days—the +clergy, represented by the bishop, abbot, and their principal +officials: the second consisted of the vassal kings of Scotland, +Cumbria, Wales, Mona, the Hebrides, and other dependent states, the +great earls, as of Mercia or East Anglia, and other mighty magnates: +the third, of the lesser thanes, who were the especial vassals of the +king, or the great landholders, for the possession of land was an +essential part of a title to nobility. + +Amongst these sat Ella of Æscendune, who, in spite of his age, had come +to the metropolis to testify his loyalty and fealty to the son of the +murdered Edmund, his old friend and companion in arms, and to behold +his own eldest son once more. + +It was the morning of a beautiful day in early spring, one of those +days of which the poet has written— + +“Sweet day, so calm, so pure, so bright, +The bridal of the earth and sky” + + +—when winter seems to have loosed its stern hold upon the frozen earth, +and the songs of countless birds welcome the bright sunlight, the +harbinger of approaching summer. + +The roads leading to Kingston-on-Thames were thronged with travellers +of every degree—the ealdorman or earl with his numerous attendants, the +bishop with rude ecclesiastical pomp, the peasant in his rough +jerkin—all hastening to the approaching ceremony, which, as it had been +definitely fixed, was to take place at that royal city. + +There Athelstane had been crowned with great pomp and splendour, for it +was peculiarly “_Cynges tun_” or the King’s Town, and after the +coronation it was customary for the newly-crowned monarch to take +formal possession of his kingdom by standing on a great stone in the +churchyard. + +The previous night, Archbishop Odo had arrived from Canterbury, and his +bosom friend and brother, Dunstan, from Glastonbury, as also Cynesige, +Bishop of Lichfield, a man in every way like-minded with them; while +nearly all the other prelates, abbots, and nobles, arrived in the early +morn of the eventful day. + +The solemn service of the coronation mass was about to commence, and +the people were assembling in the great church of St. Mary, filling +every inch of available room. Every figure was bent forward in earnest +gaze, and every heart seemed to beat more quickly, as the faint and +distant sound of deep solemn music, the monastic choirs chanting the +processional psalms, drew near. + +Suddenly the jubilant strains filled the whole church, as the +white-robed train entered the sacred building while they sang: + +“_Quoniam prævenisti eum in benedictionibus dulcedinis, posuisti in +capiti ejus coronam de lapide pretioso_.” xii + +Incense ascended in clouds to the lofty roof; torches were uplifted, +banners floated in the air, every eye was now strained to catch a +glimpse of the youthful monarch. + +He came at last. Oh, how lovely the ill-fated boy looked that day! His +beauty was of a somewhat fragile character, his complexion almost too +fair, his hair shone around his shoulders in waves of gold, for men +then wore their hair long, his eyes blue as the azure vault on that +sweet spring morning: alas, that his spiritual being should not have +been equally fair! + +Elfric stood by his father, amidst the crowd of thanes, near the rood +screen, for he had spent the last few days at Kingston, and there his +father had found him, and had embraced him with joy, little dreaming of +the change which had come over his darling boy. + +“Look, father, is he not every inch a king?” Elfric could not help +exclaiming, forgetting the place and the occasion in his pride in his +king and his friend. + +He would have been one of the four boys who bore the royal train, but +it had not seemed advisable on such a day to offend Dunstan too +seriously. + +The mass proceeded after the royal party had all taken their places, +and the coronation service was incorporated into the rite, following +the Nicene Creed and preceding the canon. + +Kneeling before the altar, the young prince might well tremble with +emotion. Before him stood the archbishop, clad in full pontifical +vestments; around were the most noted prelates and wisest abbots of +England; behind him the nobility, gentry, and commonalty of the whole +country—all gazing upon him, as the archbishop dictated the solemn +words of the oath, which Edwy repeated with trembling voice after him. + +“In the name of the ever-blessed Trinity, I promise three things to the +Christian people, my subjects: + +“First, that the Church of God within my realm shall enjoy peace, free +from any molestation.” + +“Second, that I will prevent, to the utmost of my power, theft and +every fraud in all ranks of men.” + +“Thirdly, that I will preserve and maintain justice and mercy in all +judicial proceedings, so that the good and merciful God may, according +to His mercy, forgive us all our sins, Who liveth and reigneth for ever +and ever. Amen.” + +Then followed a most solemn charge from “Odo the Good,” setting forth +all the deep responsibilities of the oath Edwy had taken, and of the +awful account to be rendered to God of the flock committed to his +youthful charge, at the great and awful day of judgment. + +Then the holy oil was solemnly poured upon the head of the kneeling +boy, after which he made the usual offertory of “gold, frankincense, +and myrrh,” at the altar, emblematical of the visit of the three kings +of old, who from Sheba bore their gold and incense to the Lord. + +Then was the sacred bracelet put upon his arm, the crown on his head, +the sceptre in his hand, after which the mass proceeded. + +It is touching to recall the worship of those far-off days, when all +the surrounding circumstances differed so widely from those of the +present hour; yet the Church, in her holy conservatism, has kept intact +and almost changeless all that is hers; that day the “Nicene Creed,” +“Sanctus,” “Agnus Dei,” “Gloria in Excelsis,” rolled as now in strains +of melody towards heaven, and the “Te Deum” which concluded the +jubilant service is our Te Deum still, albeit in the vulgar tongue. + +The sacred rites concluded, the royal procession left the church and +proceeded to the churchyard, when Edwy took formal possession of +Wessex, by the ceremony of standing upon a large rock called the King’s +Stone, whence the town derived its name. + +The feast was spread in the palace hard by, and all the nobles and +thanes (if the words are not synonymous) flocked thither, while the +multitude had their liberal feast spread at various tables throughout +the town, at the royal expense. + +Elfric followed his father to the palace, and was about to take his +place at the board, when a page appeared and summoned him to the +presence of Edwy. + +“I shall keep a vacant place for you by my side,” said Ella, “so that +we may feast together, my son, when the king releases you; it is a +great honour that he should think of you now.” + +Elfric followed the messenger, who led him into the interior of the +palace, where he found Edwy impatiently awaiting him in the royal +dressing chamber. + +Elfric had expected to find the newly-crowned king deeply impressed, +but if such had been the case, at the moment it had passed away. + +“Thanks to all the saints, including St. George, and especially the +dragon, that I can look into your jolly face again, Elfric, it is a +relief after all the grim-beards who have surrounded me today. I +shudder when I think of them.” + +Elfric had been about to kneel and kiss the royal hand, in token of +homage, but Edwy saw the intention and prohibited him. + +“No more of that an thou lovest me, Elfric; my poor hand is almost worn +out already.” + +“The day must have tired you, the scene was so exciting.” + +Edwy yawned as he replied, “Thank God it is over; I thought Odo was +going to preach to me all day, and the incense almost stifled me; the +one good thing is that it is done now, and all England—Kent, Sussex, +Wessex, Essex, Northumbria, East Anglia, and Mercia —have all +acknowledged me as their liege lord, the Basileus of Britain. What is +done can’t be undone, and Dunstan may eat his leek now, and go to fight +Satan again.” + +Elfric looked up in some surprise. + +“What do you think, my friend; who do you suppose is here in the +palace, in the royal apartments?” + +“Who?” + +“Elgiva, the fair Elgiva, the lovely Elgiva, dear Elgiva, and her +mother. Oh, but I shall love to look upon her face when the feast is +done, and the grim-beards have gone!” + +“But Dunstan?” + +“Dunstan may go and hang himself; he can’t scrape off the consecrated +oil, or carry away crown, bracelet, and sceptre, to hide with the other +royal treasures at Glastonbury; but the feast is beginning, and you +must come and sit on my right hand.” + +“No, no,” said Elfric, who saw at once what an impropriety this would +be, “not yet; besides, my old father is here, and has kept a seat +beside himself for me.” + +“Well, goodbye for the present; I shall expect you after the feast. +Elgiva will be glad to see you.” + +Elfric returned to his father, but a feeling of sadness had taken +possession of him, an apprehension of coming evil. + +The feast began; the clergy and the nobility of the land were assembled +in the great hail of the palace, and there was that profusion of good +cheer which befitted the day, for the English were, like their German +ancestors, in the habit of considering the feast an essential part of +any solemnity. + +How much was eaten and drunk upon the occasion it would be dangerous to +say, for it would probably exceed all modern experience, but it seemed +to the impatient Edwy that the feast and the subsequent drinking of +pledges and healths would never end, and he was impatient the whole +time to get away and be in the company of the charmer. + +An opportunity seemed at last to offer itself to his immature judgment. +Gleemen had sung, harpers had harped, but the excitement culminated +when Siward, a Northumbrian noble, who was a great musician, and +skilful in improvisation, did not disdain, like the royal Alfred, to +take the harp and pour forth an extemporary ode of great beauty, +whereupon the whole multitude rose to their feet and waved their wine +cups in the air, in ardent appreciation of the patriotic sentiments he +had uttered, and the beauty of the music and poetry. + +During the full din of their heated applause, when all eyes were fixed +upon the accomplished musician, Edwy rose softly from his chair; a door +was just behind him, and he took advantage of it to leave the hail and +thread the passages quickly, till he came to the room where he had left +Elgiva, when he threw aside his royal mantle and all his restraint at +the same time. + +It was not for a few moments that the company in the hall discovered +the absence of their king, but when they did there was a sudden hush, +and men looked at each other in mute astonishment; it appeared to all, +with scarce an exception, a gross insult to the assembled majesty of +the nation. xiii + +Poor Edwy, in his thoughtlessness and want of proper feeling, little +knew the deep anger such a proceeding would cause; in his lack of a +reverential spirit he was constantly, as we have seen, offending +against the respect due to the Church, the State, or himself—first as +heir presumptive, then as king. + +Men stood mute, as we have said, then murmurs of indignation at the +slight arose, and all looked at Dunstan. + +He beckoned to Cynesige of Lichfield, who came to his side. + +“We must bring this thoughtless boy back,” he said, “or great harm will +be done.” + +“But how?” + +“By persuasion, if possible. Follow me.” + +The two prelates entered the interior of the palace, and sought the +king’s private chamber. + +As they drew near they heard the sound of merry laughter, and each of +them frowned as men might do who were little accustomed to condone the +weakness of human flesh. Entering the chamber very unceremoniously, +they paused, as if aghast, when they beheld the king in the company of +Elgiva, his royal diadem cast upon the ground. + +He started in surprise, and for a moment in fear; then, remembering who +he was, he exclaimed, angrily—“How dare you, sir monk, intrude upon the +privacy of your king, unbidden?” + +“We do so as the ambassadors of the King of kings.” + +It is out of our power to describe the scene which followed, the fiery +words of Edwy, the stern yet quiet rejoinders of the churchmen, the +tears of the mother and daughter; but it is well known how the scene +ended. Edwy absolutely refused to return to the assembled guests, +saying he would forfeit his kingdom first; and Dunstan replied that for +his (Edwy’s) own sake he should then be compelled to use force, and +suiting the action to the word, he and Cynesige took each an arm of the +youthful king, and led him back by compulsion to the assembled nobles +and clergy. + +Before condemning Dunstan, we must remember that Elgiva could not stand +in the relation of the affianced bride of the king; that Edwy really +seemed to set the laws of both Church and State at defiance, those very +laws which but that day he had sworn solemnly to maintain; and that but +recently he had stood in the relation of pupil to Dunstan, so that in +his zeal for Church and State, the abbot forgot the respect due to the +king. He saw only the boy, and forgot the sovereign. + +The guests assembled in the banqueting hall had seen the desertion of +their royal master with murmurs both loud and deep; but when they saw +him return escorted by Dunstan and Cynesige, their unanimous approval +showed that in their eyes the churchmen had taken a proper step. + +Yet, although Edwy tried to make a show of having returned of his own +free will, an innocent device at which his captors connived when they +entered the hall with him, the bitterest passions were rankling in his +heart, and he determined to take a terrible revenge, should it ever be +in his power, upon Dunstan. + +There was comparatively little show of merriment during the rest of the +feast, and the noble company separated earlier than was usual on such +occasions. + +“If this be the way King Edwy treats his guests,” said the Earl of +Mercia, “he will find scant loyalty north of the Thames.” + +“Nor in East Anglia,” said another. + +“There is another of the line of Cerdic living.” + +“Yes, Edgar, his brother.” + +“Dunstan and Cynesige brought him back with some difficulty, I’ll be +bound.” + +“Yes; although he tried to smile, I saw the black frown hidden +beneath.” + +“He will take revenge for all this.” + +“Upon whom?” + +“Why, upon Dunstan to be sure.” + +“But how can he? Dunstan is too powerful for that.” + +“Wait and see.” + +Such was the general tone of the conversation, from which the +sentiments of the community might be inferred. + +Elfric went, as he had been bidden to do, at the conclusion of the +feast, to seek Edwy, and found him, it is needless to state, in a +towering rage. + +“Elfric,” he said, “am I a king? or did I dream I was crowned today?” + +“You certainly were.” + +“And yet these insolent monks have dared to force me from the company +of Elgiva to return to that sottish feast, and what is worse, I find +they have dared to send her and her mother home under an escort, so +that I cannot even apologise to them. As I live, if I am a king I will +have revenge.” + +“I trust so, indeed,” said Elfric, “they deserve death.” + +“I would it were in my power to inflict it; but this accursed monk—I go +mad when I mention his name—is all too powerful. I believe Satan helps +him.” + +“Still there may be ways, if you only wait till you can look around +you.” + +“There may indeed.” + +“Only have patience; all will be in your hands some day.” + +“And if it be in my power I will restore the worship of Woden and Thor, +and burn every monk’s nest in the land.” + +“They were at least the gods of warriors.” + +“Elfric, you will stand by me, will you not?” + +“With my life.” + +“Come to the window, now; see the old sots departing. There a priest, +there a thane, there an earl—all drunk, I do believe; don’t you think +so?” + +“Yes, yes,” said Elfric, disregarding the testimony of both his eyes +that they were all perfectly sober. + +Just then his eye caught a very disagreeable object, and he turned +somewhat pale. + +“What are you looking at?” said Edwy. + +“There is that old fox, Dunstan, talking with my father; he will learn +that I am here.” + +“What does it matter?” + +“Only that he will easily persuade my father to take me home.” + +“Then the commands of a king must outweigh those of a father. I have +heard Dunstan say a king is the father of all his people, and I command +you to stay.” + +“I want to stay with all my heart.” + +“Then you shall, even if I have to make a pretence of detaining you by +force.” + +The anticipations of Elfric were not far wrong. Dunstan had found out +the truth. He had sought out the old thane to condole with him upon the +pain he supposed he must recently have inflicted by his letter. + +“I cannot express to you, my old friend and brother,” he said, “the +great pain with which I sent your poor boy Elfric home, but it was a +necessity.” + +“Sent him home?” said Ella. + +“Yes, at the time our lamented Edred died.” + +“Sent him home!” repeated Ella, in such undisguised amazement that +Dunstan soon perceived something was amiss, and in a few short minutes +became possessed of the whole facts, while Ella learnt his son’s +disgrace. + +They conferred long and earnestly. The father’s heart was sorely +wounded, but he could not think that Elfric would resist his commands, +and he promised to take him back at once to Æscendune, where he hoped +all would soon be well—“soon, very soon,” he said falteringly. + +So the old thane went to his lodgings, hard by the palace, where he +awaited his son. + +Late in the evening Elfric arrived, his countenance flushed with wine: +he had been seeking courage for the part he had to play in the wine +cup. + +Long and painful, most painful, was the interview that followed. +Hardened in his rebellion, the unhappy Elfric defied his father’s +authority and justified his sin, flatly refusing to return home, in +which he pretended to be justified by “the duty a subject owed to his +sovereign.” + +Thus roused to energy, Ella solemnly adjured his boy to remember the +story of his uncle Oswald, and the sad fate he had met with. It was +very seldom indeed that Ella alluded to his unhappy brother, the story +was too painful; but now that Elfric seemed to be commencing a similar +course of disobedience, the example of the miserable outlaw came too +forcibly to his mind to be altogether suppressed. + +“Beware, my son,” added Ella, “lest the curse which fell upon Oswald +fall upon you, and your younger brother succeed to your inheritance.” + +“It is not a large one,” said Elfric, “and in that case, the king whom +I serve will find me a better one.” + +“Is it not written, ‘Put not your trust in princes?’ O my son, my son; +you will bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave!” + +It was of no avail. The old thane arose in the morning with the +intention of taking Elfric home even by force, such force as Dunstan +had used, if necessary, but found that the youth had disappeared in the +night; neither could he learn what had become of him, but he shrewdly +guessed that the young king could have told him. + +Broken-hearted by his son’s cruel desertion, the thane of Æscendune +returned home alone. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +GLASTONBURY ABBEY. + + +Rich in historical associations and reputed sanctity, the abbey of +Glastonbury was the ecclesiastical centre of western England. Here grew +the holy thorn which Joseph of Arimathea had planted when, fatigued +with travel, he had struck his staff into the ground, and lo! a goodly +tree; here was the holy well of which he had drunk, and where he +baptized his converts, so that its waters became possessed of +miraculous power to heal diseases. + +Here again were memorials, dear to the vanquished Welsh; for did not +Arthur, the great King Arthur, the hero of a thousand fights, the +subject of gleeman’s melody and of the minstrel’s praise, lie buried +here? if indeed he were dead, and not spirited away by magic power. + +A Welsh population still existed around the abbey, for it was near the +borders of West Wales, as a large portion of Devon and Cornwall was +then called, and Exeter had not long become an English town.xiv The +legends of Glastonbury were nearly all of that distant day when the +Saxons and Angles had not yet discovered Britain, and she reposed safe +under the protection of mighty Rome; hence, it was the object of +pilgrimage and of deep veneration to all those of Celtic blood, while +the English were unwilling to be behind in their veneration. + +Here, in the first year of the great English king Athelstane, Dunstan +was born, the son of Herstan and Kynedred, both persons of rank—a man +destined to influence the Anglo-Saxon race first in person and then in +spirit for generations—the greatest man of his time, whether, as his +contemporaries thought, mighty for good, or, as men of narrower minds +have thought, mighty for evil. + +In his early youth, Glastonbury lay, as it lies now, in ruin and decay; +the Danes had ravaged it, and its holy walls were no longer eloquent +with prayer and praise. Yet the old inhabitants still talked with +regret of the departed glories of the fane; the pilgrim and the +stranger still visited the consecrated well, hoping to gain strength +from its healing wave, for the soil had been hallowed by the blood of +martyrs and the holy lives of saints; here kings and nobles, laying +aside their greatness, had retired to prepare for the long and endless +home, and in the calm seclusion of the cloister had found peace. + +Here the mind of the young Dunstan was moulded for his future work; +here, weak in body, but precocious in intellect, he drew in, as if with +his vital breath, legend and tradition; here, from a body of Scottish +missionaries, or, as we should now call them, Irish,xv he learned with +rapidity all that a boy could acquire of civil or ecclesiastical lore, +and both in Latin and in theology his progress amazed his tutors. + +Up to this time the world had held possession of his heart, and, +balancing the advantages of a religious and a secular life, he chose, +as most young people would choose, the attractions of court, to which +his parents’ rank entitled him, and leaving Glastonbury he repaired to +the court of Edmund. + +There his extraordinary talents excited envy, and he was accused of +magical arts: his harp had been heard to pour forth strains of +ravishing beauty when no human hand was near, and other like prodigies, +savouring of the black art, were said to attend him, so that he fled +the court, and took refuge with his uncle, Elphege, the Bishop of +Winchester. + +A long illness followed, during which the youth, disgusted with the +world, and startled by his narrow escape from death, reversed the +choice he had previously made, and renounced the world and its +pleasures. + +Ordained priest at Winchester, he was sent back with a monk’s attire to +Glastonbury, where he gave himself up to austerities, such as, in a +greater or less degree, always accompanied a conversion in those days; +here miracles were reported to attend him, and stories of his personal +conflicts with the Evil One were handed from mouth to mouth, until his +fame had filled the country round.xvi + +The influence he rapidly acquired enabled him to commence the great +work of rebuilding Glastonbury, in which he was only interrupted by the +frequent calls which he had to court, to become the adviser of King +Edmund; where indeed he was often in the discharge of the office of +prime minister of the kingdom, and showed as much aptitude in civil as +in ecclesiastical affairs. + +Glastonbury being rebuilt, the Benedictine rule xvii was introduced, +and Dunstan himself became abbot. It was far the noblest and best +monastic code of the day, being peculiarly adapted to prevent the +cloister from becoming the abode of either idleness or profligacy. + +But this was not done without much opposition; the secular priests—as +the married clergy and those who lived amongst their flocks (as English +clergy do now) were called—opposed the introduction of the Benedictine +rule with all their might, and were always thorns in Dunstan’s side. + +The unfortunate Edmund, after the sad event at Pucklechurch, on the +feast of St. Augustine, was buried at Glastonbury by the abbot, and his +two sons, Edwy and Edgar, were put under Dunstan’s especial care by the +new king Edred. The rest of the story is tolerably well known to our +readers. + +The first steps of Edwy’s reign were all taken with a view to one great +end—to revenge himself and to destroy Dunstan, who, aware of the royal +enmity, and of his inability to restrain the sovereign, withdrew +himself quietly to Glastonbury, and confined himself to the discharge +of his duties as its abbot. + +But this did not satisfy Edwy, who, panting for the ruin of the monk he +hated, sought occasion for a quarrel, and soon found it. Dunstan had +been the royal almoner, and had had the disposal of large sums of +money, for purposes connected with the Church, on which they had been +strictly expended. Now Edwy required a strict account of all these +disbursements, which Dunstan refused to give, saying it had already +been given to Edred, and that no person had any right to investigate +the charities of the departed king. + +His stout resistance gained the day in the first instance, but Edwy +never felt at rest while Dunstan lived at peace in the land, and +Ethelgiva and her fair daughter were ever inciting him to fresh acts of +hostility, little as he needed such incitement. + +The first measures were of a very dishonourable kind. Evil reports were +spread abroad to destroy the character of the great abbot, and prepare +people’s minds for his disgrace: then disaffection was stirred up +amongst the secular clergy surrounding Glastonbury—a very easy thing; +and attempts were made in vain to create a faction against him in his +own abbey; then at last the neighbouring thanes, many of Danish +extraction and scarcely Christian, were stirred up to invade the +territory of the abbey, and were promised immunity and secure +possession of their plunder. They liked the pleasant excitement of +galloping over Dunstan’s ecclesiastical patrimony, of plundering the +farms and driving away the cattle, and there was scarcely a night in +which some fresh outrage was not committed. At this point the action of +our tale recommences. + +It will be remembered that the father of Ella had found relief from his +grief, after the death of his unhappy son Oswald, in building and +endowing the monastery of St. Wilfred, situate on the river’s bank, at +a short distance from the hall. + +The completion of the work had, however, been reserved for his son, +and, everything being now done, it became the earnest desire of Ella, +with the consent of the brethren who had been gathered into the +incomplete building, to place it under the Benedictine rule. + +For this end he determined to send a messenger to negotiate with +Dunstan at Glastonbury, and, yielding to Alfred’s most earnest request, +he consented to send him, in company with Father Cuthbert, who was to +be the future prior, upon the mission. + +Since the desertion of Elfric, his brother Alfred had been as a +ministering angel to his father, so tender had been his affection, yet +so manly and pure. He was by nature gifted with great talents, and his +progress in ecclesiastical lore, almost the only lore of the day, would +have well fitted him for the Church; but if this idea had ever been in +the mind of the thane, he put it aside after the departure of Elfric. + +But it must not be supposed that the only literature of the period was +in Latin. Alfred, the great King Alfred, skillful in learning as in +war, had translated into English (as we have mentioned earlier in our +tale) the _History of the World_, by Orosius, and other works, which +formed a part of the royal library in the palace of Edred. All these +works were known to his young namesake, Alfred, far better than they +had been either to Edwy or Elfric, in their idleness, and he was well +informed beyond the average scope of his time. But his imagination had +long been fired by the accounts he had received of Glastonbury and its +sanctuary, so that he eagerly besought his father to allow him to go +thither. + +But the poor old thane felt much like Jacob when he was begged to send +Benjamin into Egypt. Elfric was not, so far as home ties were +concerned, they had never heard of him since the coronation day, and +now they would take Alfred from him. + +It may seem strange to our readers that Ella should regard a journey +from the Midlands to Glastonbury in so serious a light; but Wessex and +Mercia had long been independent states, communication infrequent, and +it would certainly be many weeks before Alfred could return; while +inexperience magnified the actual dangers of the way. + +Coaches and carriages were not in use, neither would the state of the +roads have rendered such use practicable. All travellers were forced to +journey on horseback, and, like Elfric when he departed from home, to +carry all their baggage in a similar manner. + +The navigation of the Avon, which would have opened the readiest road +to the southwest, was impeded by sandbanks and rapids; there were as +yet no locks, no canals. + +Once the Romans had made matchless roads, as in other parts of their +empire, but not a stone had been laid thereon since the days of Hengist +and Horsa, and many a stone had been taken away for building purposes, +or to pave the courtyards of Saxon homes.xviii + +Still the ancient Foss Way, which once extended from Lincolnshire to +Devonshire, formed the best route, and it was decided to travel by it, +making a brief detour, so as to enable the party to pass the first +night at the residence of an old friend of the family who dwelt on the +high borderland which separates the counties of Oxford and Warwick, in +old times the frontier between the two Celtic tribes, the Dobuni and +the Carnabii. + +So Father Cuthbert and Alfred, with three attendant serfs, left +Æscendune early on a fine summer morning, and followed a byroad through +the forest, until, after a few difficulties, arising from entanglement +in copse or swamp, they reached the Foss Way. Wide and spacious, this +grand old road ran through the dense forest in an almost unbroken line; +huge trees overshadowed it on either side, and the growth of underwood +was so dense that no one could penetrate it without difficulty. +Sometimes the scene changed, and a dense swamp, amidst which the timber +of former generations rotted away, succeeded, but the grand old road +still offered, even in its decay, a firm and sure footing. Built with +consummate skill, the lower strata of which it was composed remained so +firm and unyielding, that, could the Romans but have returned for a few +years, they might have restored it to its ancient perfection, when the +traveller might post rapidly upon it from Lincoln even to Totness in +Devonshire. + +Little, however, did our travellers think of the grand men of old who +had built this mighty causeway six or seven centuries earlier. Their +chief feeling, when they reached it, was one of relief; the change was +so acceptable from the tangled and miry bypath through the forest. + +“Holy St. Wilfred,” exclaimed Father Cuthbert, “but my steed hath +wallowed like a hog. I have sunk in the deep mire where was no +footing.” + +“A little grooming will soon make him clean again, father.” + +“But verily we have passed through a slough and a wilderness, and my +inner man needeth refreshment; let us even partake of the savoury pies +wherewith the provident care of thy father hath provided us.” + +The suggestion was by no means a bad one, and the party sat down on a +green and sloping bank, overshadowed by a mighty oak which grew by the +wayside. It was noontide, and the shelter from the heat was not at all +unpleasant. Their wallets were overhauled, and choice provision found +against famine by the road. There were few, very few inns where +travellers could obtain decent accommodation, and every preparation had +been made for a camp out when necessary. + +So they ate their midday meal with thankfulness of heart, and reclined +awhile ere courting more fatigue. The day was lovely, and the silence +of the woods almost oppressive; nought save the hum of insects broke +its tranquillity. + +Fatigued by the exertions of the morning, the whole party fell asleep; +the gentle breeze, the quiet rustling of the leaves, all combined to +lull the senses. While they thus slept, the day wore on, and the sun +was declining when they awoke and wondered that they had wasted their +time for so long a period. + +Starting again with renewed energy, they travelled onward through the +mighty forest till sunset, when they approached the high ground which +now runs along the northern boundary of Oxfordshire and of which +Edgehill forms a portion. Though progress had been slow, for the road, +although secure, was yet in so neglected a state as to form an obstacle +to rapid travelling, and they had met no fellow travellers. Leaving the +Foss Way, which followed the valley, and slowly ascending the hill by a +well-marked track, they looked back from its summit upon a glorious +view. Far as the eye could reach stretched the forest to the northward, +one huge unbroken expanse save where the thin wreaths of smoke showed +some village or homestead, where English farmers already wrestled with +the obstacles nature had formed. But westward the view was more +home-like; the setting sun was sinking behind the huge heights now +known as the Malvern Hills, which reared their forms proudly in the +distant horizon. + +The western sky was rich in the hues of the departing sun, which cast +its declining beams upon village and homestead, thinly scattered in the +fertile vale through which the Foss Way pursued its course. + +But our travellers did not stay long to contemplate the beauty of the +scene; they were yet ten miles from the hospitable roof where they had +purposed spending the night, and they had overslept themselves so long +at their noontide halt, that they found darkness growing apace, while +their weary animals could scarcely advance farther. + +“Is there no inn, no Christian dwelling near, where we may repose? +Verily my limbs bend beneath me with fatigue,” said Father Cuthbert. + +“There is no dwelling of Christian men nearer than the halls of the +Thane of Rollrich, and we shall scarcely reach them for a couple of +hours,” said Oswy, the serf. + +“Thou art a Job’s comforter. What sayest thou, Anlac?” + +“There are the remains of an old temple of heathen times not far from +here, a little on the right hand of the road, but they say the place is +haunted.” + +“Has it a roof to shelter us?” + +“Part of the ruins are well covered.” + +“Then thither we will go. Peradventure it will prove a safe abiding +place against wolves or evil men, and if there be demons we must even +exorcise them.” + +When they had emerged from the forest, they had, as we have seen, +ascended the high tableland which formed the northern frontier of the +territory of the Dobuni—passing over the very ground where, seven +hundred years later, the troops of the King and the Parliament were +arrayed against each other in deadly combat for the first time. + +But at this remote period the country where the Celts had once lived, +and whence their civilised descendants had been driven by the English, +had become a barren moorland. Scarce a tree grew on the heights, but a +wild common, with valley and hill alternating, much as on Dartmoor at +the present day, stretched before the travellers, and was traversed by +the old Roman trackway. Dreary indeed it looked in the darkening +twilight; here and there some huge crag overtopped the road, and then +the track lay along a flat surface. It was after passing some huge +misshapen stones, which spoke of early Celtic worship, that suddenly, +in the distance on the right, the ruined temple lay before them. + +Pillars of beautiful workmanship, evidently reared by Roman skill, +surrounded a paved quadrangle raised upon a terrace approached on all +sides by steps. These steps and the pavement were alike of stone, but +where weeds could grow they had grown, and the footing was damp and +slippery with rank vegetation and fungus growth. + +At the extremity of the quadrangle the roof still partly covered the +adytum or shrine from the sky, the platform reared itself upon its +flight of massive steps where early British Christianity had demolished +the idol, and beneath were chambers once appropriated to the use of the +priests, which, by the aid of fire, could shortly be made habitable. + +There was plenty of brushwood and underwood near, and our travellers +speedily made a large fire, which expelled the damp from the place, +albeit, as the smoke could only escape by an aperture in the roof, +which, it is needless to say, was not embraced in the original design +of the architect, it was not till the blaze had subsided and the +glowing embers alone warmed the chamber, that mortal lungs could bear +the stifling atmosphere, so charged had it been with smoke. + +Still it was very acceptable shelter to the travellers, who must +otherwise have camped out on the exposed moorland, and they made a +hearty and comfortable meal, which being concluded, Father Cuthbert +made a very brief address. + +“My brethren,” he said, “we have travelled, like Abraham from Ur of the +Chaldees, not ‘_sine numine_,’ that is not without God’s protection; +and as we are about to sleep in a place where devils once deluded +Christian people, it will not be amiss to say the night song, and +commend ourselves ‘_in manus Altissimi_,’ that is to say, to God’s +care.” + +The compline service was familiar to each one present, and Father +Cuthbert intoned it in a stentorian voice, particularly those portions +of the 91st Psalm which seemed to defy the Evil One, and he recited +just as if he were sure Satan was listening: + +“Thou shalt go upon the lion and the adder; the young lion and the +dragon shalt thou tread under thy feet.” + +All the company seemed to feel comfort in the words, and, first posting +a sentinel, to be relieved every three hours, they commended themselves +to sleep. + +Alfred found his couch very pleasant at first, but before he had been +long asleep his rest became disturbed by singular dreams. He thought he +was standing within a grassy glade in a deep forest; it was darkening +twilight, and he felt anxious to find his way from the spot, when his +guardian angel appeared to him, and pointed out a narrow track between +two huge rocks. He followed until he heard many voices, and saw a +strange light reflected on the tree tops, as if from beneath, when +amidst the din of voices he recognised Elfric’s tones. + +“Wouldst thou save thy brother, then proceed,” his guardian angel +seemed to whisper. + +He strove, in his dream, to proceed, when he awoke so vividly impressed +that he felt convinced coming events were casting their shadows before. +He could not drive the thought of Elfric from his mind; he slept, but +again in wild dreams his brother seemed to appear; once he seemed to +oppose Elfric’s passage over a plank which crossed a roaring torrent; +then he seemed as if he were falling, falling, amidst rushing waters, +when he awoke. + +“I can sleep no longer. I will look out at the night,” he said. + +A faint moon had arisen, and lent an uncertain light to the outlines of +hill, crag, and moorland, while it gilded the cornice above, where the +wind seemed to linger and moan over departed greatness. The Druidical +worship of olden days, the deluded worshippers now turned into dust, +and the cruel rites of their bloodstained worship, older even than +those of the ruined temple, rose before his imagination, until fancy +seemed to people the silent wastes before him with those who had once +crowded round that circle of misshapen stones which stood out vividly +on the verge of the plain. + +He felt that nameless fear which such thoughts excite so strongly, that +he sought the company of the sentinel whom they had posted to guard +their slumbers, and found not one but two at the post. + +“Oswy and Anlac! both watching?” + +“It was too lonesome for one,” said Oswy. + +“Have you seen or heard aught amiss?” + +“Yes. About an hour ago, there were cries such as men make when they +die in torture, smothered by other sounds like the beating of drums, +blowing of horns, and I know not what.” + +“You were surely dreaming?” + +“No; it came from yonder circle of stones, and a light like that of a +great fire seemed to shine around.” + +Alfred made no reply; but he remembered that they had talked of the +Druidical rites the night before, and thought that the idea had taken +such hold upon the minds of his followers as to suggest the sounds to +their fancy. Still he watched with them till the first red streak of +day appeared in the east. + + + + +CHAPTER X. +ELFRIC AND ALFRED. + + +Early in the morning our travellers arose and took their way through an +open country which abounded with British and Roman remains; no fewer +than three entrenched camps, once fortifying the frontier of the +Dobuni, lying within sight or hard by the road, which, skirting the +summit of the watershed between the Thames and the Avon, afforded +magnificent views. + +About an hour after starting they came upon a singular monument of +Druidical times, consisting of sixty huge stones arranged in a circular +form, with an entrance at the northeast, while a single rock or large +stone, the largest of all, stood apart from the circle, as if looking +down into the valley beneath.xix + +“What can be the origin of this circle?” said Alfred. + +“It belongs to the old days of heathenesse; before the Welsh were +conquered by the Romans, perhaps before our Blessed Lord came into the +world, these stones were placed as you now see them,” replied Father +Cuthbert. + +“What purpose could they serve?” + +“For their devil worship, I suppose; you see those five stones which +stand at some little distance?” + +“They are the Five Whispering Knights,” said Oswy. + +“They are the remains of a cromlech or altar whereon they offered their +sons and daughters unto devils, and shed innocent blood, wherefore the +Lord brought the Romans upon them.” + +“But the Romans were idolatrous, too.” + +“Yet their religion was milder than the one it superseded. Jupiter +required no human sacrifices; and even otherwise, God has said that the +wicked man is often His sword to avenge Him of His adversaries.” + +“Oswy looks as if he had a tale to tell.” + +“Speak out, Oswy, and let us all hear,” said the good father. + +“Well, then,” said Oswy, “these were not once stones at all, but living +men—a king, five knights, and sixty soldiers—who came to take Long +Compton, the town down there, in the valley; but it so happened that a +great enchanter dwelt there, and being out that morning he saw them +coming, muttered his spells, and while the king —that stone yonder—was +in front looking down on his prey, the five knights all whispering +together, and the sixty soldiers behind in a circle, they were all +suddenly changed into stone.” + +They all laughed heartily at this, and leaving the Rholdrwyg Stones, +turned aside to the hospitable hall where they ought to have spent the +previous night. So delighted was the Thane of Rholdrwyg or Rollrich to +receive his guests that he detained them almost by force all that day, +and it was only on the morrow that he permitted them to continue their +journey. + +They joined the Foss Way again after a few miles at Stow on the Wold; +the road was so good that they succeeded in reaching Cirencester, the +ancient Corinium, that night, a distance of nearly thirty miles. Here +they found a considerable population, for the town had been one of +great importance, and was still one of the chief cities of southern +Mercia, full of the remains of her departed Roman greatness, with +shattered column and shapely arch yet diversifying the thatched hovels +of the Mercians. + +Two more days brought them to Bath, but the old Roman city had been +utterly destroyed, and long subsequently the English town had been +founded upon its site, so that there seemed no identity between Bath +and Aqua Solis, such as prevailed between Cirencester and Corinium. + +One day’s journey from Bath brought them at eventide within an easy day +of Glastonbury, so that they paused in their journey for the last time +at a well-known hostelry, chiefly occupied by pilgrims bound for +Glastonbury, for the morrow was a high festival, or rather the +commencement of one, and Dunstan was expected to conduct the ceremonies +in person. + +So crowded was the hostelry that Alfred and his revered tutor could +only obtain a small chamber for their private accommodation, while +their servants were forced to content themselves with such share of the +straw of the outbuildings as they could obtain, in company with many +others. + +It was still early when they stopped at the inn, for one of their +horses, which they had purchased by the way, had broken down so +completely that they could not well proceed, and they were about to +enter a dark and dangerous forest, full of ravenous bears and wolves, +which had already cast its shade upon their path. + +But this was not an uncommon feature in English travelling of that +century, when there were no horses to be hired at the inns, and +travellers could only purchase the animals they needed (if there were +any to be sold); the forest, too, was reported to be the haunt of +freebooters, and men dared to affirm that they were encouraged by the +king to prey upon the fraternity at Glastonbury. + +Still the dangers of the forest did not deter Alfred, who dearly loved +woodland scenery and sport, from strolling therein when their hasty +meal had been despatched, weary of the continuous objurgations and +smalltalk of the crowded inn. + +He had wandered some distance, lost in thought, when all at once he +started in some surprise, for the spot on which he was seemed familiar +to him, although he had never been in Wessex before. + +Yes, he certainly knew the glade, with the fine beech trees surrounding +it: where could he have seen it before? All at once he remembered his +dream in the ruined temple, and started to discover the secret +foreknowledge he had thus possessed. + +He wandered up and down the glade till it became dusk, and then shook +off the thoughts to which he had been a prey, and started to return to +the inn, when, to his dismay, he found he had forgotten in which +direction it lay. + +While seeking to find the path by which he had entered the glade, he +suddenly noticed a beaten track between two huge rocks, which seemed to +point in the direction he had come, and yet which he recognised as the +path he had been bidden to follow in his dream. He hesitated not, but +committed himself to it, while darkness seemed to increase each moment. + +He was beginning to fear the dangers of a night in the woods, when he +was startled by a sound as of many low voices, and at the same moment +became conscious that a light was tinging with red the upper branches +of the trees at no little distance, as if proceeding from some fire, +hidden by the formation of the ground. + +At first he thought that he was in the neighbourhood of outlaws, and +tried to retire, but, as in his dream, he felt so strong an impulse to +discover the party whom the woods concealed that he persevered. + +Suddenly he stopped short, for he had come to the edge of a kind of +natural amphitheatre, a deep hollow in the earth, the sides of which +were covered with bushes and trees, while the area at the bottom might +perhaps have covered a hundred square yards, and was clothed with +verdant turf. Not one, but several fires were burning, and around them +were reclining small groups of armed men, while some were walking about +chatting with each other. + +Alfred gazed in much surprise, for the party did not at all realise his +conception of a body of freebooters or robbers; they all seemed to wear +the same uniform, and to resemble each other in their accoutrements and +characteristics; they rather resembled, in short, a detachment of +regular forces than a body of men whom chance might have thrown +together, or the fortune of predatory war. + +While he gazed upon them, two of their number, whose attire was rich +and costly, and who seemed to be of higher rank than the rest, perhaps +their officers, attracted his attention as they walked near the spot +where, clinging to a tree, he overlooked the encampment from above. + +One of them was a tall, dark warrior, whose whole demeanour was that of +the professional soldier, whose dress was plain yet rich, and who might +easily be guessed to be the commander of the party. He was talking +earnestly, but in a subdued tone, to his younger companion, whom he +seemed to be labouring to convince of the propriety of some course of +action. + +Alfred watched them eagerly; the form of the younger—for so he appeared +by his slender frame—seemed familiar to him, and when at last they +turned their faces and walked towards him, the light of a neighbouring +fire showed him the face of his brother Elfric. + +“My dream!” he mentally exclaimed. + +They were evidently talking about some very important subject, and it +was also evident that the objections of the younger, whatever they +might be, were becoming rapidly overruled, when, as chance, if it were +chance, would have it, they paused in their circuit of the little camp +just beneath the tree where Alfred was posted. + +“You see,” said the elder, “that our course is clear, so definitely +clear that we have but to do our duty to the king, while we avenge a +thousand little insults we have ourselves received from this insolent +monk—such insults as warriors wash out with blood.” + +“Yet he is a churchman, and it would be called utter sacrilege.” + +“Sacrilege! is a churchman’s blood redder than that of layman, and is +he not doomed as a traitor by a judgment as righteous as ever English +law pronounced! did he not keep Edwy from his throne during the +lifetime of the usurper Edred!” + +“That was the sentence of the Witan, and you served Edred.” + +“I did not owe the allegiance of an Englishman to either, being of +foreign birth, and so was no traitor; as for the Witan, it is well +known Dunstan influenced their decision at the death of the royal +Edmund.” + +“I never heard the assertion before.” + +“You have many things still to learn; you are but young as yet. But let +it pass. Does not his conduct to Queen Elgiva merit death!” + +“I think it does. But still not without sentence of law.” + +“That sentence has been in fact pronounced, for in such cases as these, +where the subject is too powerful for the direct action of the law to +reach him, the decision of the king and council must pass for law, and +they have decided that Dunstan must die, and have left the execution of +the sentence—to us.” + +He did not add that the council in question consisted of the giddy +young nobles who had surrounded Edwy from the first, aided by a few +hoary sinners whose lives of plunder and rapine had given them a +personal hatred of the Church. + +Elfric heaved a sigh, and said: + +“If so, I suppose I must obey; but I wish I had not been sent on the +expedition.” + +“It is to test your loyalty.” + +“Then it shall be proved. I have no personal motives of gratitude +towards Dunstan.” + +“Rather the contrary.” + +“Rather the contrary, as you say. But what sound was that? Surely +something stirred the bush!” + +“A rabbit or a hare. You are becoming fanciful and timid. Well, you +will remember that tomorrow there must be no timidity, no yielding to +what some would call conscience, but wise men the scruples of +superstition. We shall not reach the monastery till dark, most of the +visitors will then have quitted it, and we shall take the old fox in a +trap.” + +“You will not slay him in cold blood!” + +“No. I shall bid him follow me to the king, and if he and his resist, +as probably they will, then their blood be on their own heads. But +surely—” + +At that moment a large stone, which Alfred had most inopportunely +dislodged, rolled down the bank, and made Elfric, who was in its path, +leap aside. Alfred, whose foot had rested upon it, slipped, and for a +moment seemed in danger of following the stone, but he had happily time +to grasp the tree securely, and by its aid he drew himself back and +darted into the wood. + +Luckily there was moonlight enough to guide him by the track he had +hitherto followed, and he ran forward, dreading nothing so much as to +fall into the hands of the friends of his brother, and trusting that he +might prevent the execution of the foul deed he had heard meditated. He +ran for a long distance before he paused, when he became aware that +pursuers were on his track. Luckily his life had been spent so much in +the open air that he was capable of great exertion, and could run well. +So he resumed his course, although he knew not where it would lead him, +and soon had the pleasure of feeling that he was distancing his +pursuers. Yet every time he ran over a piece of smooth turf he fancied +he could hear them in his rear, and it was with the greatest feeling of +relief that he suddenly emerged from the wood upon the Foss Way, and +saw the lights of the hostelry at no great distance below him. + +His pursuers did not follow him farther, probably unwilling to betray +their presence to the neighbourhood, and perhaps utterly unconscious +that the intruder upon their peace was possessed of any dangerous +secrets, or other than some rustic woodman belated on his homeward way, +who would be unable in any degree to interfere with them or to guess +their designs. + +But it was not till the ardour of his flight had abated, that Alfred +could fully realise that his unhappy brother was committed to a deed of +scandalous atrocity, and the discovery was hard for him to bear. The +strong impression which his dream had made upon him—an impression that +he was to be the means of saving his brother from some great sin—came +upon him now with greater force than ever, and was of great comfort. +The identity of the scenery he had seen in dreamland with the actual +scenery he had gone through, made him feel that he was under the +special guidance of Providence. + +Returning to the inn he sought Father Cuthbert, and found him somewhat +uneasy at his long absence, and to him he communicated all that he had +seen and heard. + +The good father was a man of sound sense but of much affection, and at +first he could not credit that the boy he had loved so well, Elfric of +Æscendune, should have grown to be the associate of murderers, for such +only could either he or Alfred style the agents of Edwy’s wrath. + +But, once fully convinced, he was equal to the emergency. + +“We will not start at once, we should but break down on the road, and +defeat our own object. We must rest quietly, and sleep soundly if +possible, and start with the earliest dawn. We shall reach Glastonbury +by midday, and be able to warn the holy abbot of his danger in good +time.” + +So Alfred was forced to curb his impatience and to try to sleep +soundly. Father Cuthbert soon gave good assurance that he was asleep; +but the noisy manner in which the assurance was given banished sleep +from the eyelids of his anxious pupil. At length he yielded to +weariness both of mind and body, and the overwrought brain was still. + +He was but little refreshed when he heard Father Cuthbert’s morning +salutation, “_Benedicamus Domino_,” and could hardly stammer out the +customary reply, “_Deo gratias_.” + +Every one rose early in those days, and the timely departure of the +party from Æscendune excited no special comment. Hundreds of pilgrims +were on the road, and Alfred expressed his conviction that there would +be force enough at Glastonbury to protect Dunstan, to which Father +Cuthbert replied—“If he would accept such protection.” + +On former days their journey had been frequently impeded by broken +bridges and dangerous fords; but as they drew near Glastonbury the +presence of a mighty civilising power became manifest. The fields were +well tilled, for the possessions for miles around the abbey were let to +tenant farmers by the monks, who had first reclaimed them from the +wilderness. The farm houses and the abodes of the poor were better +constructed, and the streams were all bridged over, while the old Roman +road was kept in tolerable repair. + +A short distance before they reached the city, the pilgrims, who were a +space in advance of the party, came in sight of the towers of the +monastery, whereupon they all paused for one moment, and raised the +solemn strain then but recently composed— + +I. +Founded on the Rock of Ages, +Salem, city of the blest, +Built of living stones most precious, +Vision of eternal rest, +Angel hands, in love attending, +Thee in bridal robes invest. +II. +Down from God all new descending +Thee our joyful eyes behold, +Like a bride adorned for spousals, +Decked with radiant wealth untold; +All thy streets and walls are fashioned, +All are bright with purest gold! +III. +Gates of pearl, for ever open, +Welcome there the loved, the lost; +Ransomed by their Saviour’s merits; +This the price their freedom cost: +City of eternal refuge, +Haven of the tempest-tost. +IV. +Fierce the blow, and firm the pressure, +Which hath polished thus each stone: +Well the Mastermind hath fitted +To his chosen place each one. +When the Architect takes reck’ning, +He will count the work His Own. +V. +Glory be to God, the Father; +Glory to th’ Eternal Son; +Glory to the Blessed Spirit: +One in Three, and Three in One. +Glory, honour, might, dominion, +While eternal ages run. +Amen. xx + + +The grand strains seemed to bring assurance of Divine aid to Alfred, +and he could but imitate Father Cuthbert, who lifted up his stentorian +voice and thundered out in chorus, as they drew near the pilgrims. + +Here they left the Foss Way for the side road leading to the monastery, +now only a short distance from them. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +THE FLIGHT OF DUNSTAN. + + +It was the day of St. Alban, the protomartyr of England, and the saint +was greatly honoured at Glastonbury, where, as we have seen, Dunstan +was in residence, and, as a natural consequence, every department of +the monastic life was quickened by his presence. The abbey was full of +monks who had professed the Benedictine rule, and having but recently +been rebuilt, it possessed many improvements hardly yet introduced into +English architecture in general. The greater part of the building was +of stone, and it was not, in its general features, unlike some of the +older colleges at Oxford or Cambridge, although the order of the +architecture was, of course, exclusively that of the Saxon period, +characterised by the heavy and massive, yet imposing, circular arch. + +But upon the church or abbey chapel all the skill of the architect had +been concentrated, and it seemed worthy alike of its founder and of its +object. Seen upon the morning in question, when the bright summer sun +filled every corner with gladsome light, just as the long procession of +white-robed priests, and monks in their sombre garb, with their hoods +thrown back, were entering for high mass, and the choral psalm arose, +it was peculiarly imposing. + +The procession had not long entered the church, when the party of +pilgrims we have described, closely followed by our friends from +Æscendune, entered the quadrangle, and crossed it to the great porch of +the church. It was with the greatest difficulty they could enter, for +the whole floor of the huge building was crowded with kneeling +worshippers. The portion of Scripture appointed for the epistle was +being chanted, and the words struck Alfred’s ears as he entered—“He +pleased God, and was beloved of Him, so that, living among sinners, he +was translated.” + +The words seemed to come upon him with special application to the +danger the great abbot was in, and the thought that the martyr’s day +might be stained by a deed of blood, or, as some might say, hallowed by +another martyrdom, added to his agitation. + +And now he had gained a position where the high altar was in full view, +illuminated by its countless tapers, and fragrant with aromatic odours. +There, in the centre of the altar, his face turned to the people as the +sequence was ended, and the chanting of the gospel from the rood loft +began, stood the celebrant, and Alfred gazed for the first time upon +the face of Dunstan, brought out in strong relief by the glare of the +artificial light. + +He strove earnestly to concentrate his thoughts upon the sacred words. +They were from the sixteenth of St. Matthew, beginning at the words: + +“Then said Jesus unto His disciples, If any man will come after Me, let +him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. + +“For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it and whosoever will +lose his life for My sake, shall find it.” + +He could not but feel the strange coincidence that words such as these +should come to strengthen him, when he felt he had most need to shelter +himself under the shadow of the Cross. The service proceeded, the +creed, sanctus, and other choral portions being sung by the whole +monastic body in sonorous strains; and for a time Alfred was able to +make a virtue of necessity, and to give himself wholly to the +solemnity; but when it was over and the procession left the church, he +sought an immediate interview with the abbot, in company with Father +Cuthbert. + +Dunstan had removed his sacerdotal garments, and had returned to his +own cell, which only differed in size from the cells of his brethren. +The furniture was studiously plain: hard wooden chairs; an unvarnished +table; a wooden bedstead, with no bed, and only a loose coverlet of +sackcloth; the walls uncovered by tapestry; the floor unfurnished with +rushes;—such was the chamber of the man who had ruled England, and +still exercised the most unbounded spiritual influence in the land. + +There was no ostentation in this; every monk in the monastery lived in +similar simplicity. Precious books and manuscripts, deeply laden with +gold and colours, were deposited on coarse wooden shelves, while the +Benedictine Breviary lay on the table, written by some learned and +painstaking scribe, skilful in illumination. + +The appearance of the abbot was little changed since we last beheld +him; perhaps care had traced a few more lines in his countenance, and +his general manner was more prompt and decided, now that danger menaced +him, for menace him he knew it did, although he hardly knew from what +quarter the bolt would fall. + +A lay brother brought him some slight refreshment, the first he had +taken during the day. + +The humility inculcated by each precept of the order forbade the +brother in question to speak until his superior gave him leave to do +so; but Dunstan read at once the desire of his subordinate, and said: + +“What hast thou to tell me, Brother Osgood?” + +“Many people are without, seeking speech of thee.” + +“This is the case each day; are there any whose business appears +pressing?” + +“A company has arrived from Æscendune, or some such place in Mercia, +and two of the party—a priest and a young layman—seek an immediate +interview, saying their business is of life and death.” + +“Æscendune!—admit them first.” + +The brother left the cell at once, and soon returned, ushering in +Father Cuthbert and Alfred, who saluted the great churchman with all +due humility, and waited for him to speak, not without much evident +uneasiness; perhaps some little impatience was also manifest. + +“Are you of the house of Æscendune, my son?” enquired Dunstan of +Alfred. “Methinks I know you by your likeness to your brother Elfric.” + +“I am the son of Ella, father; we have been sent on pressing business, +which is notified by this parchment” (presenting the formal request on +the part of the brethren of Æscendune, which was the original cause of +their journey) “but we have yet a more pressing matter to bring before +you: wicked men seek your life, my father.” + +“I am well aware of that; surely you do not dream, my son, that my eyes +are closed to a fact known throughout unhappy England.” + +“But, my father, I speak of immediate danger, which God in His great +mercy enabled me to discover but last night; this very night the abbey +will be attacked, and your life or liberty in danger.” + +“This night!” said Dunstan, in surprise; “and how have you discovered +this? Do not hesitate, my son tell me all.” + +Thus adjured, Alfred repeated the whole story of his discovery of the +concealed expedition. + +“You saw the leaders closely then?” said Dunstan, when he had finished; +“describe the elder one to me.” + +“A tall dark man, like a foreign soldier, in plain but rich apparel, a +scar on the right cheek.” + +“Stay, my son, I know him; his name is Redwald, and he is the captain +of the king’s bodyguard. Now describe the other with whom he held +converse.” + +“Father, I cannot.” + +“My son—” but Dunstan paused, for he saw that poor Alfred had covered +his face with his hands, and he at once divined the truth, with full +conviction, at the same time, of the truth and earnestness of Alfred’s +statement. + +“My son, God can dispose and turn the hearts of all men as seemeth best +to His wisdom; and I doubt not, in answer to our fervent prayers, He +will turn the heart of your poor brother. Meanwhile, we ourselves will +take such precautions as shall spare him the guilt of sacrilege. + +“Brother Osgood, summon the prior to my presence, and cause the +brethren to assemble, one and all, in the chapter house: we have need +of instant deliberation.” + +The lay brother departed, and Dunstan, whose cheerfulness did not +desert him for one moment, chatted familiarly with Father Cuthbert, or +perused the parchment the good father had just presented through +Alfred. + +“It is a great and pleasing thing,” he said, “to behold how our Order +is spreading through this benighted land, and how spiritual children +arise everywhere to our holy father Benedict; surely the time is near +at hand when the wilderness shall blossom as the rose.” + +The prior, Father Guthlac, entered at this moment, and Dunstan talked +apart with him for some moments with extreme earnestness, but only the +last words which passed between them were audible. + +“Yes, my brother, you have the words of Scripture,” said Dunstan, “to +support your proposal: ‘When they persecute you in one city, flee ye +unto another.’” + +“Yet it is hard to leave a spot one has reared with such tender care.” + +“There was One Who left more for us; and I do not think they will +destroy the place, or even attempt to destroy it: they will fill it +with those ‘slow bellies, those evil beasts,’ the secular clergy, with +their wives.” + +“Fitter it should be a stye for hogs.” xxi + +“Nay, they are men after all; yet there is some reason to fear that, +like hogs, they wallow in the mire of sensuality; but their day will be +but a short one.” + +“My father!” + +“But a short one; it hath been foreshown me in visions of the night +that the Evil One will triumph indeed, but that his triumph will be +very short; and, alas a green tree which standeth in the pride of its +youth and might must, ere the close of that triumph, be hewn down.” + +“By our hands, father?” + +“God forbid! by the Hand of God, I speak but as it has been revealed to +me.” + +It was a well-known fact that Dunstan either was subject to marvellous +hallucinations, and was a monomaniac on that one point, while so wise +in all other matters, or that he was the object of special revelations, +and was favoured with spiritual visions, as well as temptations, which +do not ordinarily fall within the observation or experience of men. + +So Father Guthlac and the rest of the company listened with the +greatest reverence to his declaration, as to the words of an inspired +oracle. + +“But let us go to our brethren; they await us,” said Dunstan, speaking +to the prior. “Brother Osgood, take these our guests to the +refectorarius, and ask him to see that they and all their company taste +our bounty at least this day; tomorrow we may have nought to offer +them.” + +In the famous chapter of the whole house of Glastonbury which followed, +and which became historical, prompt resolution was taken on Dunstan’s +report, which did honour to the brotherhood, as evincing both their +resignation and their trust in God, Who they believed would, to use the +touching phrase of the Psalmist, “turn their captivity as the rivers in +the south;” so that they “who went forth weeping, bearing good seed, +should come again with joy, and bring their sheaves with them.” + +So it was at once agreed that the whole community should break up +immediately; that within the next hour all the monks should depart for +the various monasteries of the Benedictine order; and that Dunstan +himself, with but two companions, should take refuge across the sea, +sailing from the nearest port on the Somersetshire coast. + +A dozen of the brethren were to return with Father Cuthbert and Alfred +to Æscendune at once, and to bear with them all the necessary powers +for the accomplishment of the good thane’s wishes in regard to the +monastery of St. Wilfred, while Father Cuthbert was then and there +admitted by Dunstan to the order of St. Benedict —the necessity of the +case justifying some departure from the customary formalities. + +All being completely ordered and arranged, the chapter broke up, and +within an hour the monks were leaving as rapidly as boys leave school +when breaking-up day comes, but not quite so joyously. They strove to +attract as little attention as possible, and, in most cases, travelled +in the ordinary dress of the country. + +Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines who were to accompany him on his +return—- so much more speedy than had been anticipated —were already +prepared to start, when, to their surprise, Alfred could not be found. + +Alfred was at that moment in the cell of Dunstan, with whom he had +obtained, not without great trouble, another brief interview. + +“God bless you, my son,” said Dunstan, “and render unto you according +to all you have done for His glory this day, and restore you your +brother safe in body and soul!” + +But it was not merely for a blessing that Alfred had sought the abbot. + +“Father,” he said, “if I have happily been of service to you, I ask but +one favour in return; one brother has sought your life, let the other +remain with you as a bodyguard.” + +“But your father?” + +“I am satisfied that I am but speaking as he would have me speak.” + +“But you will become an exile.” + +“Gladly, if I can but serve you, father.” + +“But, my child, I have no means of support for you abroad; as monks we +shall find hospitality in every Benedictine house, but you are only a +layman.” + +“Then, father, I but ask you to allow me to accompany you to the +coast.” + +“I grant it, my son, for I believe God inspires the wish. Be it as you +desire, but one of your serfs must accompany you; it would not be safe +to travel home alone.” + +So Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines started back to Æscendune +without Alfred, bearing Dunstan’s explanation of the matter to the +half-bereaved father whose faith, they feared, would be sorely tried, +and leaving Oswy to be his companion. + +It was now drawing near nightfall, and the abbey was almost deserted; +all the pilgrims had left with the monks, although many of them would +willingly have put their trust in the arm of flesh and remained to +fight for Dunstan against his temporal foes, even as he—so they piously +believed—routed their spiritual enemies. In that vast abbey there were +now but six persons—Dunstan, Guthlac, Alfred, the lay brother Osgood, +Oswy, and a guide who knew all the bypaths of the country. + +Desolate and solitary indeed seemed the huge pile of untenanted +buildings as the evening breeze swept through them. The last straggler +had gone; Dunstan was still in his cell arranging or destroying certain +papers, the guide and lay brothers held six strong and serviceable +horses in the courtyard below, near the open gate, impatient to start, +and blaming secretly the dilatoriness of their great chieftain. They +watched the sun as he sank lower and lower in the western sky, and +thought of the woods and forests they must traverse, frequented by +wolves, and sometimes by outlaws whom they dreaded far more. Still +Dunstan did not appear. + +Alfred and Guthlac, on a watchtower above, gazed on the plain stretched +before them. Mile after mile it extended towards that forest where the +enemy was now known to lurk, and they watched each road, nay, each +copse and field, with jealous eye, lest it should conceal an enemy. +Ofttimes the shadow of some passing cloud, as it swept over moor or +mere, was taken for an armed host; ofttimes the wind, as it sighed +amongst the trees and blew the dried leaves hither and thither, seemed +to carry the warning “An enemy is near.” + +At length danger seemed to show itself plainly: just as the sun set, a +dark shadow moved from a distant angle of the forest on the plain +beneath, and the words “The enemy!” escaped simultaneously from Alfred +and Guthlac as the setting sun seemed reflected upon spear and sword, +flashing in a hundred points as they caught the reflection of the +departing luminary. + +Alfred, at the prior’s desire, hurried to the chamber of Dunstan. + +“Father,” he said, “the enemy are near. They have left the forest.” + +“That is four miles in distance: there will be time for me to finish +this letter to my brother of Abingdon.” + +“But, father, their horses may be fleeter than ours.” + +“We are under God’s protection: I am sure we shall not be overtaken: be +at peace, my son.” + +Poor Alfred felt as if his faith were very sorely tried indeed, but he +strove to acquiesce. + +It was now quite dark, and the ears of the would-be fugitives were +strained to catch the sounds which should warn them of approaching +danger. + +At length they fancied they heard sounds arise from the plain before +them: suppressed noises, such as must unavoidably be made by a force on +its passage; and Alfred again sought the cell of Dunstan, yet dared not +enter, urgent though the emergency seemed. + +At this moment he was startled by a demoniacal burst of laughter, which +seemed to fill the corridor in which he waited with exultant joy. + +What could it be? he felt as if he had never heard such laughter +before—so terrible, yet so boisterous. + +A moment of dread silence, and then it began again, and filled each +corridor and chamber. + +At that moment Dunstan came forth, and saw the pale face of Alfred. + +“It is only the devil,” he said “we are not ignorant of his devices. + +“O Satan! thou that wert once an angel in heaven, art thou reduced to +bray like a jackass?” xxii + +Again the exultant peal resounded. + +“Be at peace,” said the abbot; “thou rejoicest at my departure; I shall +soon return to defy thee and thy allies.” + +And the laughter ceased. + +“We must lose no time,” he said; “the moment is at hand.” + +Locking each door behind him, he reached the party in the courtyard, +and each person mounted in a moment; then they passed under the great +archway. Oswy had remained behind one moment to lock the great gates, +and then they all rode forth boldly into the darkness. + +They passed rapidly in a direction at right angles to that in which +their pursuers were approaching, and at the distance of a mile they +halted for one moment to ascertain the cause of a great uproar which +suddenly arose. + +It was not difficult to divine its cause: it was the beating of axes +and hammers on the great outer door of the monastery. + +“It will occupy them nearly an hour,” said Dunstan, “and we shall be +far far away before they have succeeded in effecting an entrance.” + +So they rode on rapidly into the night. Before them lay the Foss Way, +the road was good and well known to them, the moon was shining +brightly, and their spirits rose with the excitement and the exertion. +Onward! Onward! + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +AT HIS WORST. + + +The unhappy Elfric had indeed fallen from his former self before he +reached the depth at which our readers have just seen him, joining with +Redwald in the unhallowed enterprise so happily frustrated, if indeed +it were yet frustrated, by his own brother. + +But when his father had returned to Æscendune alone, Elfric felt that +home ties were shattered, and that he had nothing but the royal favour +to depend upon, so he yielded to the wishes of King Edwy in all points. + +Immediately after his coronation, the reckless and ill-advised Edwy had +married Elgiva, xxiii in defiance of the ban of the Church, and then +had abandoned himself to the riotous society and foolish counsels of +young nobles vainer than those who cost Rehoboam so large a portion of +his kingdom. Amongst these Elfric was soon conspicuous and soon a +leader. His spirit and physical courage far beyond his years excited +their admiration, and in return they taught him all the mysteries of +evil which were yet unknown to him. + +Under such influences both the king and his favourite threw off all +outward semblance even of religion, and only sought the means of +enjoyment. Redwald ministered without reserve or restraint to all their +pleasures, and under his evil influence Edwy even found occasion to rob +and plunder his own grandmother, a venerable Saxon princess, in order +that he might waste the ill-gotten substance in riotous living. + +Yet there was a refinement in his vice: he did not care for coarse +sensual indulgence to any great extent; his wickedness was that of a +sensitive cultivated intellect, of a highly-wrought nervous +temperament. Unscrupulous—careless of truth—contemptuous of +religion—yet he had all that attraction in his person which first +endeared him to Elfric, whom he really loved. Alas! his love was deadly +as the breath of the upas tree to his friend and victim. When the first +measures of vengeance were taken against Dunstan, with the concurrence +of wicked but able ministers of state, Redwald was selected as the +agent who should bribe the thanes, and begin the course of conduct +which should eventually lead to the destruction of the enemy of the +king. He had only waited till the temper of the times seemed turned +against Dunstan (he judged it wrongly); and the king seemed secure +against every foe ere he planned the expedition we have introduced to +our readers. + +We will now resume the thread of our narrative. + +When the band of soldiers, headed by Redwald, had gained the gates of +the monastery, they found them, as we have seen, firmly locked and +barred. + +“Blow your horns; rouse up these sleepy monks to some purpose,” said +Redwald. “Why, they have not a light about the place.” + +A loud and vigorous blast of horns was blown, while the greater part of +the troop dismounted and paused impatiently for an answer from within. + +“Two or three of you step forward with your axes,” exclaimed Redwald. + +They did so, and thundered on the gate without any success, so stoutly +was it made. + +“What can it mean?” said Redwald. “All is silent as the grave.” + +“No; there is some one laughing at us,” said Elfric. + +A peal of merry laughter was heard within. + +Redwald was thoroughly enraged, and seizing an axe with his own hand, +he set the example of applying it to the gate, but without any result +save to split a few planks, while the iron framework, designed by +Dunstan himself, who was clever at such arts, held as firmly as ever. + +Unprovided with other means of forcing it, the besiegers had recourse +to fire, and gathering fuel with some difficulty, they piled it against +the gate. Shortly the woodwork caught, and the whole gate presently +yielded to the action of the fire; the iron bars, loosened by the +destruction of the woodwork, gave way, and the besiegers rushed into +the quadrangle. Here, all was dark and silent, not a sound to be heard +or a light seen. + +“What can it mean? Have they fled? You all heard the laughter!” + +“There it is again.” + +The boisterous and untimely mirth had begun just within the abbot’s +lodgings, and the doorway at the foot was immediately attacked. It +presently yielded, and Redwald, who had obtained a good notion of the +place, rushed with his chief villains to the chamber he knew to be +Dunstan’s; yet he began to fear failure, for the absence of all the +inmates was disheartening. No, not all, for there was the loud laughter +within the very chamber of the abbot. + +The door was fastened securely, and while the axes were doing their +destructive work upon it, the mocking laughter was again heard. Redwald +had become so enraged that he mentally vowed the direst vengeance upon +the untimely jester, when the door burst open and he rushed in. + +“Where is he? Surely there was some one here?” + +“Who could it be? We all heard the laughter.” + +But victim there was none; and searching all the place in vain, they +had to satiate their vengeance by destroying the humble furniture of +the abbot. + +What to do next they knew not, and Redwald, deeply mystified, was +reluctantly forced to own his discomfiture, and to prepare to pass the +night in the abbey. Accordingly, his men dispersed in search of food +and wine. Some found their way to the buttery; it was but poorly +supplied, all the provisions in the place having been given to the +poorer pilgrims by the departing monks. The cellar was not so easily +emptied, and such wine as had been stored up for future use was at once +appropriated. + +Redwald and Elfric, having shared the common meal gloomily, were seated +in the abbot’s chamber—little did Elfric dream that his brother had so +recently been in the same room—when one of the guards entered, bringing +with him a stranger. He turned out to be a neighbouring thane, one of +those bitter enemies to Dunstan whom Edwy had planted round the +monastery, and he came to give information that he had seen Dunstan +with five companions escaping by the Foss Way. + +Redwald jumped up eagerly. “How long since?” he asked. + +“About two hours, and ten miles off, I was returning home from a +distant farm of mine.” + +“Why did you not stop them?” + +“I was too weak for that; they were six to one. I heard you had been +seen coming here by a cowherd, and came to warn you. If you ride fast +you may catch the holy fox yet before he runs to earth; but you must be +very quick.” + +“What pace were they riding?” + +“Slowly at that moment; it was up a hill.” + +Redwald rushed from the room, crying, “To horse, to horse!” but found +only a portion of his men awake: the others were mainly drunk and +sleeping it off on the floor. + +Cursing their untimely indulgence, he got about a dozen men rapidly +mounted on the fleetest horses, taking care Elfric should be one, and +dashed off in pursuit of the fugitives. + +Dunstan and his party had ridden some four or five hours, when the moon +became overcast, and low peals of distant thunder were heard. The +atmosphere was so intensely hot, and the silence of nature so +oppressive, that it was evident some convulsion was at hand. + +“Is there any shelter near?” + +“Only a ruined city xxiv in the wood on the left hand, but it is a +dangerous place to approach after nightfall. They say evil spirits lurk +there.” + +“They tell that story of every ruined place, be it city, temple, or +house; and even if it be, we have more cause to dread evil men than +evil spirits.” + +The guide hesitated no longer, and struck into a bypath, which +penetrated the depth of the woody marsh through which the Foss Way then +had its course. After a minute or two it became evident, from the +footing, that they were upon the paved work of a causeway overgrown +with weeds and rank herbage; huge mounds showed where fortifications +had once existed, and shortly, broken pillars and ruined walls appeared +at irregular intervals. + +They had little time to look around them, for the storm had come +rapidly up, and the glare of the lightning was incessant, while the +rain poured down in absolute torrents. Before them rose a huge ruin +covered with ivy and with the roof partly protecting the interior. It +was so large that they were able to lead their horses within its +protection and wait the cessation of the rain. + +Between the flashes the sky was intensely dark, but they were almost +incessant, and revealed the city of the dead in which they had found +refuge. It was an ancient Welsh town, and in the latter years of the +deadly struggle with the English, had been taken after a protracted +resistance. Tradition had not even preserved its name, and only stated +that every living soul had perished in the massacre when the outer +walls were at length stormed and the town given to fire and sword. The +victors, as was frequently the case, had avoided the spot, preferring +to build elsewhere, and, like Silchester or Anderida, it had fallen +into desolation such as befell mighty Babylon. + +And now the ignorant rustic peopled its buildings with the imaginary +forms of doleful creatures, and shunned the fatal precincts where once +family love and social affections had flourished; where hearts, long +mouldered to dust, had beaten with tender affection, where all the +little circumstances which make up life—the trivial round, the common +task—had gone on beneath the summer’s sun or winter’s storm, till the +great convulsion which ended the existence of the whole community. + +Dunstan noticed that his whole party crowded closely together, and when +the lightning illuminated each face saw that fear had left its visible +mark. + +The continuous roar of thunder, the hissing of the descending rain, the +wind which blew in angry gusts, prevented all conversation until nearly +an hour had elapsed, when the strife began to diminish. It was a sad +and mournful sight to gaze upon the remains of departed greatness when +thus illuminated by the electric flash, and easily might the fancy, +deceived by the transient glimpses of things, people the ruins with the +shades of their departed inhabitants. + +“Father,” said Alfred, at length, “who were they who lived here? Do you +know aught about them?” + +“The men whom our ancestors subdued—the Welsh, or British—an unhappy +race.” + +“Were they heathen?” + +“At one time, but they were converted by the missions from Rome and the +East, of which the earliest was that of St. Joseph of Arimathea to our +own Glastonbury; he may have preached to the very people who lived +here, nay, in this very basilica, which, I think, may have been +converted into a church.” + +It was indeed the ruin of a basilica wherein they stood, but no trace +survived to show whether Dunstan’s conjecture was correct. + +“It seems strange that God should have permitted them to fall before +the sword of our heathen ancestors.” + +“Their own historian Gildas, who lies buried at Glastonbury, explains +it. He tells us that such was the corruption of faith and of morals +towards the close of their brief day, that had not the Saxon sword +interposed; plague, pestilence, or famine, or some similar calamity, +must have done the fatal work. God grant that we, now that in turn we +have received the message of the Gospel, may be more faithful servants, +or similar ruin may, at no distant period, await the Englishman also, +as it did the Welshman.” + +He sighed deeply, and Alfred echoed the sigh in his heart; he read the +abbot’s thoughts. + +“Do you believe,” said he, after a pause, “that their spirits ever +revisit the earth?” + +“I know not; many wise men have thought it possible, and that they may +haunt the places where they sinned, ever bearing their condemnation +within them, even while they clothe themselves in semblance of the +mortal flesh they once wore.” + +The whole party shuddered, and Father Guthlac said, deprecatingly: + +“My father, let us not talk of this now. We are too weak to bear it, +and the place is so awful!” + +By this time the wind had made a huge rent in the black clouds +overhead, and the moon came suddenly in sight, sailing tranquilly in +the azure void above, and casting her beams on the ruins, as she had +once cast them on the beauteous city; its basilicas, palaces, and +temples yet standing. + +At this moment their guide came hastily to them. + +“We are in some danger, father. Horsemen, twelve of them, are galloping +along the Foss Way in spite of the storm.” + +Dunstan left the shelter, which was no longer needed, the rain having +ceased, and followed the guide to the summit of the huge mound which +marked the fall of some giant bastion of early days. From that position +they could see the Foss Way, now about half-a-mile distant in the +bright moonlight, and Dunstan’s eye at once caught twelve +figures—horsemen—sweeping down it like the wind, which brought the +sound of their passage faintly to the ear. + +“Wait,” he said, “and see whether they pass the bypath; in that case we +are safe.” + +The whole party was now on the mound, their persons carefully concealed +from the view of the horsemen, while they watched their passage with +intense anxiety. The enemy reached the bypath; eleven of them passed +over it, but the twelfth reined his horse suddenly, almost upon its +haunches, and pointed to the ground. He had evidently seen the tracks +of the fugitives upon the soft turf. + +The next moment they all turned their horses into the bypath. + +“Follow,” said the guide; and they all rushed eagerly down the mound +and mounted at once. + +“Follow me closely; I think I can save you from them; only lose not a +moment.” + +The guide led them by a wandering path amongst the ruins, where their +tracks would leave the least trace, until he passed through a gap in +the external fortifications on the opposite side. Then he rode rapidly +along a descending path in the woods, until the sound of rushing water +greeted their ears, and they arrived on the brink of a small river +which was swollen by the violent rain, and which dashed along an +irregular and stony bed with fearful impetuosity. + +There was but one mode of crossing it: a bridge constructed of planks +was thrown over, which one horseman might pass at a time. The whole +party rode over in safety, although the crazy old bridge bent terribly +beneath the weight of each rider. + +But when all were over, the guide motioned to Alfred and Oswy to remain +behind for one moment, while the monks proceeded. He threw himself from +his horse, and taking the axe which he had slung behind him, commenced +hacking away at the bridge. But although the bridge was old, yet it was +tough; and although Alfred, and Oswy who was armed with a small +battle-axe, assisted with all their might, the work seemed long. + +Before it was completed, they heard the voices of their pursuers +calling to each other amongst the ruins. They had evidently lost the +track, and were separating to find it. + +Crash went one huge plank into the raging torrent, then a second, and +but one beam remained, when a horseman emerged from the trees opposite, +and by the light of the moon Alfred recognised his brother. + +Desperate in the excitement of the chase, Elfric leapt from his horse, +and drawing his sword rushed upon the bridge. + +Alfred, who felt it tremble, cried: + +“Back, Elfric! Back if you value your life!” while at the same moment, +true to his duty, without raising his axe or any other attempt at +offence, he opposed his own body in passive resistance to Elfric’s +passage over the beam. + +Elfric knew the voice, and drew back in utter amazement. He had already +stepped from the half-severed beam, when he saw it bend, break, and +roll, with Alfred, who had advanced to the middle of the bridge, into +the torrent beneath, which swept both beam and man away with resistless +force. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +THE RETURN OF ALFRED. + + +The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn the fate of Alfred +of Æscendune, whom we left in so critical a position. + +The fall of the bridge was so sudden and unexpected, that he scarcely +knew where he was, till he found himself sucked rapidly down stream by +the raging waters, when he struck out like a man, and battled for dear +life. But the only result seemed to be that he was bruised and battered +against the rocks and stones, until, exhausted, he was on the point of +succumbing to his fate, as the current bore him into a calm deep pool, +where he sank helplessly, his strength gone. But the guide and his +companion Oswy had succeeded in reaching the spot, which was +inaccessible from the other side, and plunging at once into the waters, +the latter succeeded in bringing the dying youth to land. Dunstan and +the other members of the party were soon on the spot; the lay brother +was skilled in the art of restoring suspended animation, and they soon +had the happiness of beholding Alfred return to consciousness; he +raised his head, and gazed about him like one in a dream, not able to +realise his position. + +“Where am I? What have I been doing?” he exclaimed. + +“You are safe, my dear son, and in the hands of friends,” replied +Dunstan, “although you have had a narrow, narrow escape; we are secure +for the present from our foes.” + +They consulted together in low tones as to their future movements, and +the abbot inquired particularly of the guide concerning the fords and +bridges. + +“There is a ford only a mile or two away, but I expect they will find +they cannot cross it.” + +“Is there no place of refuge near? He is unable to sit his horse.” + +“There is a cottage close by, kept by a cowherd, who is a good and true +man.” + +“Then lead us to it at once,” replied Dunstan. + +Alfred had by this time recognised his position, and he implored +Dunstan not to endanger his own safety for his sake; but the abbot paid +no attention. They reached the cottage just as the day was dawning, and +the east was bright with rosy light. It was such a place as the great +king, after whom Alfred was named, had found refuge in when pressed by +the Danes. It was poor, but neat and clean beyond the usual degree; and +when the wants of their early visitors were known, and Dunstan was +recognised, the utmost zeal was displayed in his cause. + +All that could be done for Alfred was done at once, but he was +manifestly too shaken and bruised to be able to travel; and, giving him +his fatherly blessing, Dunstan was compelled by the guide to hurry on, +leaving him in the care of Oswy. + +They had not, however, great fear of their pursuers, for their own +horses were comparatively fresh after the rest in the ruined city, and +those of their foes would be necessarily fatigued, after the rapid ride +along the Foss Way, and their exertions to pass the stream. + +So it was not with great uneasiness, well mounted as they were, that, +gaining the road, they beheld their pursuers in the distance, who, on +their part, beholding their intended victims afar off, hastened to spur +their horses on. + +It was useless: the pursued had the advantage, and after the gallop of +a mile or two, it became evident they were in no especial danger, +although it must be remembered that a false step or slip, or any +accident, would have been fatal. + +“I should not mind racing them down the Foss to the Sea Town,” xxv said +the guide; “but if the abbot has no objection, I should prefer leaving +them to pursue the road, while we take a cross-country route, which I +have often travelled; it is a very good one.” + +“By all means,” said Dunstan, “and then we may slacken this furious +pace.” + +They were quite out of sight of their pursuers when, coming upon a +track of dry stony ground, they suddenly left the road, and crossing a +wild heath, put a copse between them and the enemy, who did not this +time discover for miles the absence of the footprints, for the soil was +very dry and hard, the storm not having passed that way, and the foe +were intent upon hard riding. + +So they gained a long start, and eventually reached a hill, from which +they obtained their first view of the sea. It was eventide, and the +western sun, sinking towards the promontories beyond the distant Exe, +reddened the waters with his glowing light. Dunstan and his brethren +thanked God. + +“We have come to the setting sun,” said they, “and at eventide have +seen light; let us thank Him Who hath preserved us.” + +But the guide, who knew what relentless pursuers were yet behind, would +allow them no rest. In another hour they reached a small fishing +village on the coast, where a solitary bark was kept. The owner was +just about to put out for an evening’s fishing, but at the earnest +request of his visitors, backed by much gold, he consented to take them +over to the opposite coast. + +“The weather promises to be very clear and fine,” he said; “and we may +sail across without any danger.” + +It was indeed a lovely night; they stepped on board, the anchor was +loosed, the sail set, and with the wind behind, they stood rapidly out +to sea. They were quite silent, each immersed in his own thoughts. At +last they heard the sound of horsemen galloping on the fast-receding +shore, and looking back, they saw twelve riders reach the beach, and +pause, looking wistfully out to sea. + +“Our soul is escaped, even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler; +the snare is broken, and we are delivered,” said Dunstan. + +“Our help standeth in the name of the Lord, Who hath made heaven and +earth,” replied Father Guthlac. + +Meanwhile, Alfred rapidly gained strength. Happily no bones were +broken, he was only sadly bruised. The next day he expressed his +earnest wish to return home, but his host would not permit him, saying +he should have to answer to Dunstan some day for his guest. + +The time passed monotonously enough that second day, yet not +unpleasantly: there were a thousand things to observe in the woods and +marshes around, full of animal life. + +Early in the morning, a sweet fresh morning, the cowherd drove his +cattle forth to graze, where he knew the pastures were sweetest, and +Alfred would willingly have gone, too, but they told him he must rest. +So he took his breakfast of hot milk and bread, with oat cakes baked on +the hearth, and waited patiently till the warmth of the day tempted him +out, under the care of Oswy, to watch the distant herd, to drink of the +clear spring or recline under some huge spreading beech, while the +breeze made sweet melodies in his ears, and lulled him pleasantly to +sleep. + +At midday they returned to the customary dinner, which was not of such +inferior quality as one would now expect to find in such a place, +contrasting strongly with the fare on the tables of the rich: then +there was far more equality in the food of rich and poor, and Alfred +had no cause to complain of the cowherd’s table. + +Then he sauntered forth again with Oswy, and strove to amuse himself +with the book of nature; till just at eventide, as he was longing +earnestly that he could know the fate of his fugitive friends, they +heard the sound of a horse at full trot, and soon the guide appeared in +sight. + +Alfred rose up eagerly. + +“Are they safe?” he cried. + +“Yes, quite safe; they had got a mile out to sea when their pursuers +got to the beach; I saw it all, hidden in a woody hill above.” + +“Did they try to follow?” + +“They could not, there was no boat: I never saw men in such a rage.” + +Alfred felt as if a weight were removed from his heart, then he looked +up in the face of the guide. + +“Will you guide us home?” he said. + +“Yes,” was the reply; “the holy abbot particularly desired me to return +to his son Alfred, and to take care of him on his journey home; and if +you will have me as your guide, I will warrant you a safe journey to +Æscendune, for we are not worth following.” + +“Then let us start tomorrow morning,” said Alfred, longing to be once +more in his old father’s presence, and to cheer his mother’s heart. + +They returned together to the cowherd’s cottage, and slept peacefully +that night. Early in the morning they retook the path to the Foss Way, +crossing the stream at a ford higher up. Their horses being well rested +and full of spirit for the journey, they passed Glastonbury, still +empty and desolate, in the middle of the day, and retraced by easy +stages the whole of Alfred’s previous route from home. + +After a week’s easy travelling, by the blessing of Providence, they +reached the neighbourhood of Æscendune: it had never looked so lovely, +so home-like to Alfred as then. He felt as if every spot were full of +joy, and as he was recognised by person after person, by his favourite +dogs as they bounded forth, and finally fell into his mother’s arms at +the gate of the hall, he experienced feelings which in these days, when +we are all so familiar with the thought of travel, can seldom be +realised. + +Then he had to recount his adventures that night, after supper, to an +admiring audience, who listened enraptured to his account of the +holiness of Dunstan and the cruelty of his foes. But it will easily be +imagined that he made no allusion to his rencontre with Elfric; and +Oswy, instructed by his young master, was equally silent. + +He had quite made up his mind to persevere in this course: it could do +no good to tell father or mother how grievously Elfric had fallen, and +how nearly he had been the involuntary instrument of his brother’s +death. + +“God can change his heart,” said Alfred to himself, “and bring him home +like the prodigal son about whom Father Cuthbert talks so often.” + +So he prayed earnestly every day for his brother, and many a +supplication on his behalf arose from the altar of St. Wilfred. Time +will show whether they were lost. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +EDWY AND ELGIVA. + + +Edwy, King of England, and Elgiva, his queen, gave a great feast at +their royal palace in London, a month after the events recorded in our +last chapter; and a numerous company had assembled to do honour to +their hospitality. Yet the company was very different from that which +had assembled round the same hospitable board in the days of King +Edred. First, the Churchmen were conspicuous by their absence; and +secondly, all the old grey-headed counsellors, who had been the pride +and ornament of the reigns of Edmund and Edred, were not seen; for, +after the rumour of their marriage had reached Odo, he had pronounced +the sentence of the lesser excommunication upon them, severing them +from the sacraments; and this was felt by the old counsellors of Edred +to be a most serious stigma, yet one which they could not call +undeserved: hence they deserted the court. + +In their place were the young and giddy, the headstrong sons of wiser +fathers, the spendthrifts, the young fops of the period, those who went +in for a fast life, to use a modern phrase—who spent the night, if not +the day, over the wine cup, and consumed their substance in riotous +living—such were they who gathered around Edwy the Fair and the yet +fairer Elgiva. + +And truly king and queen more beautiful in person had never sat upon a +throne; and it was difficult to look upon them and feel aught but +admiration, save when one knew all their history, and then pity and +sorrow might supply the place of admiration, at least with the sober +minded. + +Fish, flesh, and fowl; nought was wanting. The earth the air, and the +water, all yielded their tribute; for was it not the anniversary of the +marriage—the uncanonical marriage, alas!—of the royal pair, if marriage +it had truly been? + +Eels of enormous size, fine as the Roman lamprey, pike roasted with +puddings in their bellies, tench and carp stewed; while the sea yielded +its skate, its sturgeon, and its porpoise, which the skill of the cook +had so curiously dressed with fragrant spices that it won him great +renown. The very smell, said a young gourmand, was a dinner in itself; +and the wild buck supplied its haunch, and the boar its head, while +fowl of all kinds were handed round on spits. + +The drinking was of like sumptuous character, and Rhenish wine +contended with the wines of sunny France for precedence, as they were +passed round in silver cups and gold-mounted horns; for glass was +seldom, if ever, used for such purposes then. + +The floor was strewed with the sweetest summer flowers, and exhaled an +odour balmy as the breath of eastern climes, where the breeze plays +with the orange blossoms. The tapestry was beautifully woven by foreign +artists, and represented the loves of the gods; while there was nothing +in keeping with the olden style throughout the whole apartment. + +But one seat was vacant near the king’s throne, and every now and then +Edwy seemed to cast a wistful eye upon it, as if he would fain see its +ordinary occupant there. + +The gleemen rose and sang, the harpers harped, but something was +wanting; they brought tears to the eyes of the fair queen by their +plaintive songs of hapless lovers, which had superseded alike the war +songs of Athelstane and the monkish odes of Edred. + +“Where is Elfric? He promised to be back by our wedding day; why does +he delay, my Edwy?” asked Elgiva. + +“It is little less than treason to the queen of youth and beauty to be +thus absent, my Elgiva, but remember he has been unwell, and Redwald +told me that for prudential reasons they delayed his return to court.” + +“And your brother Edgar—” + +“Is somewhere in Mercia: the churlish boy has declined our invitation +to honour our feast with his presence. We do not want his serious face +at the board. I am sure he would preach on the duty of fasting.” + +“He has but seldom been our visitor.” + +“No; he is afraid, perhaps, to trust his cold heart within the magic of +my Elgiva’s sunshine, lest the ice should be melted.” + +These had been asides, while all the company were listening to the +gleeman; but now Edwy threw himself heart and soul into the current +conversation, and all went merry as a marriage peal, until the +ceremoniarius—for Edwy loved formality in some things—threw open the +folding doors and announced the captain of the hus-carles, and Elfric +of Æscendune. + +The whole company rose to receive them, and Elfric in particular +received a warm welcome; but it was at once seen that there was a +marked constraint upon him: his eye was restless and uneasy, and he +seemed like one carrying a load at his breast. + +In truth, since that fatal night when, as he believed, he had witnessed +the death of his brother, he had striven in vain to drown care and to +banish remorse: the thought of his aged father deprived of both his +sons—the one by death, the other by desertion—would force its way +unbidden to his mind. Still, he had determined to throw aside reserve +in honour of the occasion, and he made heroic efforts to appear happy +and gay. + +Redwald was at his ease, as usual in all company, and seemed to cause +prodigious laughter as he told his adventures to the younger folk at +the bottom of the board. Dark and malign as his demeanour usually was, +yet he could affect a light and airy character at times. + +“Redwald, my trusty champion,” said Edwy, “this is the first campaign +thou hast ever returned from unsuccessful. Tell us, how did Dunstan +outwit you?” + +“By the aid of the devil, my liege.” + +“Doubtless; but we had all hoped for a different result, and that thou +wouldst either have left the traitor no eyes in his head, or no head on +his shoulders. + +“Said I not rightly, my Elgiva?” + +The eyes of the fair enemy of the abbot flashed fire, and she exchanged +some very significant words with her mother, Ethelgiva, who occupied +the next chair. + +“Come, my fairy-given xxvi one, you must not be too hard on Redwald, +who doubtless did his best— + +“How was it, Elfric?” + +“The devil was certainly on Dunstan’s side: he and no other could have +betrayed our coming, for betrayed it was.” + +“How long had he left when you reached the abbey?” + +“Only an hour or two; but there was a sound of mocking laughter, +doubtless caused by his incantations, which kept us for some hours +forcing doors and the like.” + +“And you could discover no cause?” + +“None whatever; however, we found he had taken the Foss Way for the +coast, and followed, and nearly caught him.” + +“What prevented you?” + +Elfric turned pale as if with great mental emotion, and tried to +proceed in vain. + +“You are not well,” said Elgiva, anxiously. + +“Not quite,” he said; and then, overcoming his feelings by a vigorous +effort, while no one save Redwald suspected the true cause, he +continued: + +“There had been a great storm, and they had broken down the only bridge +which existed for miles over a swollen river: we lost hours.” + +“And yet, as your messengers told us, you arrived in time to see him +leave the coast.” + +“The vessel which bore him was still distinctly in sight when we stood +on the sands.” + +“But had you no means of following?” + +“None: it was a lonely fishing village with a small harbour, and his +bark was a mere fishing smack, the only one of the place.” + +“I trust the sea has swallowed him,” said the king; “but there is a +rumour today that he is playing the saint in Flanders with great pomp. +Well, only let him show his face in England again, and the devil may +pinch my nose with his tongs if I leave him a head on his shoulders: he +shall be a sacrifice to your outraged dignity, my Elgiva.” + +“And yours, my Edwy.” + +Husband and wife were quite agreed on this subject: they had never +forgiven Dunstan in the least degree, and, identifying him with +religion, had well-nigh abjured it altogether. + +The ordinary dishes being now removed, the guests all partook lavishly +of wine, and, their heads already heated, yielded entirely to the +excitement of the moment. Toast after toast was drunk to the king: he +was compared to Apollo for his beauty, and Elgiva to Venus, while the +old northern mythology was ransacked also for appellations in honour of +the youthful pair. + +Adjoining, in the outer hall, the higher domestics had their music and +dancing, and the king and queen came to honour the entertainment by +their presence. So the happy hours wore away, and at length the company +were on the eve of departure, for fatigue was making itself felt, when +an ominous blowing of a horn was heard at the outer gate. + +A pause, during which the company looked at each other, so strangely +had the sound struck them, and yet they knew not why, save that it was +an unlikely hour for such an occurrence. + +There was one only who knew what the message would probably be +—Redwald; and he had kept the secret purposely from the king. + +The doors opened, and an usher brought in a messenger who had only been +allowed a moment to change a dusty dress, ere he broke into the +presence of royalty. + +“Speak,” said Edwy, as the messenger bowed before him, and kissed his +hand. + +“My lord and king—” and the messenger glanced at Elgiva. + +“Let him speak, Edwy, my lord. Are we not one? What you can bear, your +wife must bear also.” + +Thus adjured, the messenger spoke his news. + +“Mercia has revolted, and proclaimed Edgar king.” + +“The cause alleged?” + +“I know not, my lord.” + +“I can tell you,” said Redwald; “the banishment of the holy fox, +Dunstan, and very shame prevents my adding that—” + +“No more,” said Edwy; “I can guess the rest.” + +He wished to spare Elgiva. + +He walked up and down the hall several times. His festive air had gone. + +“And on my wedding day, too,” he said. “Redwald, you knew this.” + +“Yes, my lord, but I wished to spare my king upon his wedding day, +still I have not spared myself. The necessary steps are taken, your +immediate vassals are summoned, and my own men are ready to march; we +will sweep these rebels off the field.” + +“Elfric,” said the king, “you must be my right hand in the field: you +will be ready to invade your native Mercia tomorrow. Think you your own +friends are firm?” + +“My father, although he has disowned me, would never disown his lawful +king; the duty and love he bore to your murdered father would forbid.” + +“Well, Redwald, have you known this many hours?” + +“I heard it at the frontier town of Mercia, Reading, last night, and +took all my measures immediately.” + +“Then, can we really depend upon Wessex?” + +“I treat so indeed, my lord, else we should be in a very bad way +indeed.” + +“Well, we must rest now. Elgiva, darling, this is a cold termination to +our first anniversary, but your husband’s love shall ever protect you +until he be cold in death. + +“Goodnight, Elfric, be ready for the morrow. + +“Goodnight, Redwald, trustiest warrior who ever served grateful lord. + +“Goodnight, gentlemen all.” + +And thus the royal party broke up, and thus ended the first anniversary +of the ill-starred union. + +On the morrow all was haste and confusion in the royal palace. Elgiva +departed early for Winchester, which, being farther removed from the +frontier, was safer than London from any sudden excursion on the part +of the Mercians, and the city was also devoted to the royal family. The +citizens of London were directed to provide for the defence of their +city, while the royal guards, attended by the immediate vassals of the +crown, prepared to march into the heart of the rebellious district. + +It is too often supposed that the feudal system was of Norman +importation, whereas its very foundation—the act of homage, or of +“becoming your man,”—was brought by the Saxons and Angles from their +German home. The lord was the protector of the vassal, but the vassal +was bound to attend his feudal superior both in peace and war. + +So imperative was this obligation, that a vassal who abandoned his lord +in the field of battle was liable to the death of a traitor. + +Therefore Edwy soon found himself at the head of a compact body of ten +thousand men, all bound to stand by him to death. But there was one +very disheartening circumstance, which attracted notice. No volunteers +joined the little army, although a royal proclamation had promised +lands from the territories of the rebels to each successful combatant +in the cause of Edwy and Elgiva. + +The fear of the Church hung on all, the conviction that the law of both +Church and State had been broken by the young king; the universal +belief in the sanctity of Dunstan, and in the true patriotism of Odo +whom they called “the good;” the thoughtless misgovernment since the +wiser counsellors had dispersed—all these things weakened the hearts of +the followers of Edwy. + +There was therefore but little enthusiasm when the inhabitants saw the +soldiers of the king march out by the Watling Street, and the soldiers +themselves looked dispirited. + +It was early dawn on the second day from the feast that the departure +took place. Cynewulf, a valiant Earl of Wessex, was the real commander; +nominally, Edwy commanded in person, and Elfric rode out of London by +his side. Redwald’s rank would not have entitled him to the chief +command. + +Passing through the environs of the city, they gained the open country, +and marched steadily along the causeway the Romans had so firmly laid, +until they reached Verulam or St. Alban’s, where they passed the night. +It excited great discontent amongst the inhabitants that Edwy did not +visit the shrine of the saint, the glory of their town; and his +departure again took place amidst gloomy silence. + +They were now about to cross the frontier and enter Mercia, then in +many respects an independent state; governed, it might be, by the same +monarch and Witan as Wessex, even as Scotland and England are governed +by the same sovereign and Parliament, yet retaining like them its own +peculiar code of laws in many respects. + +And now Mercia had sternly refused to be governed any longer by the +“enemy of the Church,” and chose the Etheling, Edgar, to be its king. + +Acting with the sanction of Odo, whom he deeply revered, the young +Edgar, then only in his fifteenth year, accepted the offer, and the +whole force of Mercia was gathering to support him when Edwy crossed +the border. + +It must not be supposed that either Cynewulf or Redwald expected to +conquer the Mercians with ten thousand men. No, their design was +simpler: they had learned where Edgar was residing, and that the forces +around him were small. One bold stroke might secure his person, and +then Edwy might make his own terms. This was the secret of the advice +they both gave to the young king. + +Redwald had, as we shall see, deep designs of his own to serve also, +but they had been locked for years in his own breast, and no servant +could seem more trusty and faithful than he did, or act with more +energy in his master’s cause. + +The forces of Edwy, as we have related, left St. Alban’s on the second +morning, and travelled, horse and foot, very rapidly all that day. + +Crossing the Icknield Street at Dunstable, where the remains of a huge +temple, once sacred to Diana, were visible, they entered Mercia, and +soon reached Towcester, a town which had been walled round by King +Athelstane; here they found no force prepared to receive them, and the +town opened its gates at once. + +They tarried here for a day, while they sent scouts and spies in all +directions, many of whom never returned. The troops were quartered +freely upon the inhabitants, who were evidently very hostile; and, in +return, the soldiers of Edwy insulted the women and bullied the men. +Every hour some quarrel arose, and generally ended in bloodshed; the +citizens being commonly the victims. + +Late at night messengers arrived at the royal quarters, bringing +information that Edgar was at Alcester, the ancient Alauna, beyond the +Avon, and that Osric, the great Earl of Mercia, was with him collecting +troops. + +A council was held at once, and it was decided to leave the Watling +Street and to march for the Avon by cross-country routes. They rested +that night amidst the ruins of the ancient Brinavæ, and here another +council was held, to deliberate on their future movements, and it was +decided to march westward at once, for tidings came that Edgar’s forces +were rapidly increasing, and prudence suggested prompt measures. Edwy +was becoming very anxious. + +The route for the next day was then made out and, with beating heart, +Elfric learned that they purposed crossing the river not far from +Æscendune. + +“Elfric, my friend,” said Edwy, “there will be a chance for you to +visit Æscendune, and to obtain the old man’s forgiveness.” + +He said this with a slight sneer. + +“I cannot go there; I would die first.” + +Edwy started at the tone of deep feeling with which the words were +said; he knew nothing of the rencontre of Elfric with his brother. + +“Still I think that I must spend this coming night there, and I will +try and act the Christian for the occasion: perhaps I may do you a good +turn, while I renew my acquaintance with your people.” + +In his very heart Elfric wished that Edwy might never arrive there, yet +he knew not what to say. + +“Well,” said the prince, observing his hesitation, “you may go on with +Cynewulf and the main body of the army, which will cross the Avon +higher up, and I will make excuse that your duties detain you. I must +go—I have special reasons, I wish at least to secure the fidelity of +the few—and Redwald will accompany me; we join the army on the morrow, +without losing any time by the move.” + +And so the matter was settled. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. +THE ROYAL GUEST. + + +It was the morning of the first of August, and the sun, dispersing the +early mists, gave promise of a bright summer day. + +The inhabitants of Æscendune, lord and vassals alike, were astir from +the early daybreak; for that day the harvest was to be commenced, and +the crops were heavier than had been known for many a year. A good +harvest meant peace and prosperity in those times, a bad harvest +famine, and perhaps rebellion; for if the home crop failed, commerce +did not, as now, supply the deficiency. + +So it was with joy and gladness that the people went forth that day to +reap with their sharp sickles in their hands, while the freshness of +the early morn filled each heart insensibly with energy and life. The +corn fell on the upland before their sharp strokes, while behind each +reaper the younger labourers gathered it into sheaves. + +Old Ella stood in their midst looking on the familiar scene, while his +pious heart returned many a fervent thanksgiving to the Giver of all +good. Under the shade of some spreading beeches, which bordered the +field, the domestics from the manor house were spreading the banquet +for the reapers—mead and ale, corn puddings prepared in various modes +with milk, huge joints of cold roast beef—for the hour when toil should +have sharpened the appetite of the whole party. + +By the side of his father stood young Alfred administering with filial +affection to all his wants, as if he felt constrained to supply a +double service in his own person now that Elfric was no more, or, at +least, dead to home ties. + +Thicker and thicker fell the wheat, and they thought surely such heavy +sheaves had never fallen to their lot before. + +At last the blowing of a horn summoned all the reapers to their dinner, +and when Father Cuthbert had said grace, the whole party fell to—the +thane at the head of them; and when the desire of eating and drinking +was appeased, the labourers lay on the grass, in the cool shade, to +pass away the hour of noontide heat, before resuming their toil. + +“Father,” said Alfred, “a horseman is coming.” + +“My old eyes are somewhat dim; I do not see any one approaching.” + +“Nor I, as yet, but I hear him; listen, he is just crossing the brook; +I can hear the splashing.” + +“Some royal messenger, perhaps, from Edgar or from Edwy, my son. I fear +such may be the case; yet I wish I could be left in peace, afar from +the strife which must convulse the land, if the ill-advised brothers +cannot agree to reign—the one over Mercia, the other over Wessex.” + +“We have repeatedly said that we should be quite neutral, father.” + +“And yet, my son, we offend both parties, and, I fear me, we shall be +forced to defend ourselves in the end. But God is our refuge and +strength, a very present help in trouble. And now that I am old I can +lean more and more upon Him. He will be a father to you, my Alfred, +when these hoary hairs are hidden in the grave.” + +It was seldom that the old thane expressed his devotion in this strain; +it seemed to Alfred as if there were a foreboding of coming trial in +it, and he felt as when a cloud veils the face of the sun in early +spring. + +The messenger now came in sight—a tall, resolute looking man, well +armed and well mounted, and evidently bound for the hall. But when he +saw the party beneath the trees he bent his course aside, and saluting +the thane with all deference, inquired if he spoke to Ella of +Æscendune. + +“I am he,” replied Ella. “I trust you are not the bearer of other than +good tidings; but will you first refresh yourself, since it is ill +talking between the full and the fasting?” + +“With gladness do I accept your bounty; for I have ridden since early +dawn, and rider and horse are both exhausted.” + +“There is corn for your horse, and food and wine for his master. + +“Uhred, take charge of the steed. + +“Alfred, my son, place that best joint of beef before the stranger, and +those wheaten cakes. + +“I drink to you, fair sir.” + +The messenger seemed in no hurry to open his tale until he had eaten +and drunk, and it was with the greatest patience that the thane, who +was one of nature’s gentlemen, awaited his leisure. + +At length the messenger looked up, and pushed his wooden platter aside. + +“I have come to be the bearer of good tidings to you, noble thane. +Edwy, your king, with a small troop of horse, his royal retinue, +proposes honouring your roof with his presence, and asks bed and board +of his loyal subject, Ella of Æscendune.” + +“The king’s will is my law; and since it pleases the son of my late +beloved master, King Edmund, to visit me, he shall find no lack of +hospitality. But may I ask what sudden event has brought him into the +heart of our country?” + +“He comes to chastise rebellion. A large force of several thousand men +crosses the river a few miles higher this evening, and, not to +incommode you with numbers, King Edwy comes apart from his followers.” + +Although he foresaw grave inconvenience, and even danger, in the +proposal, yet Ella could not appear churlish and inhospitable; +therefore, learning from the messenger that the king might be expected +before sunset, he returned home to make such preparations as should +suggest themselves for the entertainment of his royal master, for so he +still would have styled Edwy, deeply as he felt he had been wronged by +him. + +“Father,” said Alfred, as he walked homeward by his side, “think you +Elfric will be in his train? I wish he may be.” + +“Alas, my son! I fear I shall never see poor Elfric again. My mind +always seems to misgive me when I think of him; and I have so strong a +foreboding that he has received my last blessing, that I cannot +overcome it. No, Alfred, I fear we shall not see Elfric tonight.” + +No more was said upon the subject; they reached the hall in good time, +and startled the lady Edith by their tidings. + +Instantly all was in preparation: the best casks of wine were broached, +fowls and wild birds alike had cause to lament that their lives were +shortened, chamberlain and cook were busy, clean rushes were brought in +to adorn the floor of the hall, sweet flowers and aromatic grass for +that of the royal bedchamber; and it was not till a flourish of +trumpets announced the approach of the cavalcade that all was ready, +and the maidens and men servants, arrayed in their best holiday attire, +stood grouped without the gate to receive their king. + +At last the glitter of the departing ray upon pointed lances announced +the approach, and soon the whole party might be seen—a hundred horse +accompanying the king’s person, and one or two nobles of distinction, +including Redwald, riding by his side. + +When the train first reached the spot from which the castle was +visible, a strange thing occurred. The king’s eyes were fixed upon +Redwald, and, to the royal astonishment, the whole frame of that worthy +seemed shaken by a sudden emotion. His countenance became pale, his +lips were compressed, and his eyes seemed to dart fire. + +“What is the matter, my Redwald?” asked the king. + +“Oh, nothing, my lord!” said he, resuming his wonted aspect with +difficulty, but at last becoming calm as a lake when the wind has died +away. “Only a sudden spasm.” + +“I hope you are not ill?” + +“No, my lord; you need not really feel anxious concerning me. + +“The hall of Æscendune appears a pleasant place for a summer +residence,” he added. + +“I have been there before,” said the king. “Spent some weeks there. +Yes; I thought it a great change for the better then, after the musty +odour of sanctity which reigned in the palace of my uncle the monk, but +all things go by comparison. I might not relish a month there now.” + +“Yet it looks like a place formidable for its kind, and it might not be +amiss to persuade the worthy old thane to receive a garrison there, so +that if the worst came to the worst we might have a place of refuge, +otherwise the Mercians would soon have possession of it.” + +“Ella is one of themselves.” + +“But the rebel Edgar may not forgive him for entertaining us!” + +“He can hardly help himself. Still, the smoke of those fires, which, I +trust, betokens good cheer; and the peaceful aspect of that party +coming out to meet us, in the midst of whom I recognise old Ella and +his son Alfred, Elwy’s brother, does not look much like compulsion.” + +“Making the best of a bad bargain, perhaps.” + +“I prefer to think otherwise.” + +At this moment the two parties met, and Edwy at once dismounted from +his courser with that bewitching and kingly grace which became “Edwy +the Fair.” He advanced gracefully to the old thane, and, presenting the +customary mark of homage, embraced him as a son might embrace a +father—“For,” said he, “Elfric has taught me to revere you as a father +even if Æscendune had not taught me before then. I robbed you of your +son, now I offer you two sons, Elfric and myself.” + +The tears stood in the old man’s eyes at this reception, and the +mention of his dear prodigal son. + +“He is well, I hope?” said he, striving to speak with such sternness +and dignity as sell-respect taught in opposition to natural feeling. + +“Well and happy; and I trust you will see him in a day or two, when we +shall have chastised our rebels; justice, mingled with mercy, must +first have its day.” + +“Where is he now?” + +“With the main body of the army; in fact, he is my right hand. It is my +fault, not his, that he is not here now; but we could not both leave, +and he preferred that I should come and proffer my filial duty first, +and perhaps that I should assure you of his love and duty, however +appearances may have seemed against him.” + +Then the eye of Edwy caught Alfred. It must be remembered that Elfric +had kept the secret of his brother’s supposed death, even from the +king. + +“And of Alfred, too, I have ever been reminded by his brother; your +name has seldom been long absent from our conversation.” + +Alfred reddened. + +“I trust now,” he continued, “that I may profitably renew an +acquaintance suspended for three years. I am but young, only in my +eighteenth year, and I have no father; let me find one in the wisest of +the Mercians.” + +So bewitching was the grace of the fair speaker that he seemed to carry +all before him. Ella began to think he must have misjudged the king. +Alfred alone, who knew much more of the relations between the king and +the Church than his father, still suspended his belief in these most +gracious words. + +Leaning upon the still powerful arm of Ella, his young agile form +contrasting strongly with the powerful build of the old thane —powerful +even in decay—they came in front of the hall, where the serfs and +vassals all received them with joyful acclamations, and amidst the +general homage the king entered the hall. + +There he reverentially saluted the lady Edith. + +“The mother of my friend, my brother, Elfric, is my mother also,” said +he. + +Then he was conducted to his chamber, where the bath was provided for +him, and unguents for anointing himself, after which, accepting the +loan of a change of clothing more suitable than his travelling apparel, +he received the visit of Ella, who came to conduct him to the banquet. + +All this while his followers had been received according to their +several degrees; and a board was spread, of necessity, in a barn, for +the due feasting of the soldiers of Edwy and the vassals of Æscendune; +while the officers and the chief tenants of the family met at the royal +table in the great hall once before introduced to our readers. + +It boots not to repeat an oft-told tale, to describe the banquet in all +its prodigal luxury, to tell how light the casks in the cellars of +Æscendune seemed afterwards, how empty the larder; suffice it to say +that in due course the banquet was ended, the toasts were drunk, and, +with an occasional interlude in the gleeman’s song and the harper’s +wild music, the conversation was at its height. Wine and wassail +unloosed men’s tongues. + +Redwald sat near the king, who had introduced him to Ella as a dear +friend both to him and his son—“a very Mentor,” he said, “who, since +the unhappy quarrel into which my counsellors forced me —yes, forced +me—with Dunstan, has done more to keep Elfric and me straight in our +morals than at one time I should have thought possible for any man to +do. + +“Redwald, you need not blush; it is true, and your king is proud to own +it.” + +Redwald was not exactly blushing; he had spent the interval before the +banquet in looking eagerly and wistfully all round the house, and now +his countenance had a cold composure, which made it seem as if he had +never known emotion; still he answered fittingly to the king’s humour: + +“Alack, my lord, such credit is due only to the blessed saints, +especially St. Wilfred, whom you first learned to love at Æscendune, as +you have often told me.” + +“Yes,” said Edwy; “you remember, Ella, how I used to steal away even +from the chase, and visit his chapel at the priory which your worthy +father founded. Truly, I mused upon the saint so much that I marvel he +appeared not to me; I think he did once.” + +“Indeed!” exclaimed his auditors. + +“Yes; I had been musing upon my condition as a poor orphan boy, +deprived of my brave father—he was your friend, Ella!—when methought a +figure in the dress of a very ancient bishop, stood beside me, yet +immaterial as the breeze of evening. ‘Thy prayer is heard’ said he to +me; ‘thou hast brought many gifts to St. Wilfred; he shall send thee +one, even a friend.’ It was fulfilled in Elfric.” + +“Truly, it was marvellous,” said Father Cuthbert, who listened with +open mouth. “I doubt not it was our sainted patron.” + +Alfred said nothing; his recollections of Edwy’s days at Æscendune did +not embrace many hours in the chapel of St. Wilfred. + +The great wonderment of Ella may be conceived: he had always mourned +over Edwy as a headstrong youth, dead to religion, and now he was +called upon to contemplate him in so different a light. The reader may +wonder at his credulity, but if he had listened to the sweet voice of +the beautiful king, had gazed into that innocent-looking face—those +eyes which always seemed to meet the gaze, and never lowered themselves +or betrayed their owner—he would, perhaps, have been deceived too; yet +Edwy was overdoing it, and a look from Redwald warned him of the fact. +He took the other line. + +“Alas!” he said, “I have been very very unworthy of St. Wilfred’s fond +interest in me, and may have done very rash things; but some day the +saint may rejoice in me again, and then he shall not find in me a +rebellious son.” + +Further than this he was not disposed to go, for in truth he felt +himself sickened by his very success in deceit, although half disposed +to be proud of it at the same time. But Redwald had taken up the +conversation. + +“These halls of yours seem old, venerable thane; has your family long +dwelt under this hospitable roof?” + +“My remote ancestor fought by the side of Cynric in the victories which +led to the foundation of Mercia.” + +“Ah! many a sad yet glorious tale and legend for the gleeman’s harp, +doubtless, adorns your annals.” + +“Not many; we have our traditions.” + +“For instance, is there one connected with the foundation of the priory +hard by?” + +“It is of recent date, my father built it.” + +“Strange, for generally these old places are reared up by repentant +sinners, mourning over the sins they have committed, or the day of +grace they have cast away; is there no tale attached to your +foundation?” + +“Alas! there is; but it is one whose stain is all too recent, one we +cannot recount, or suffer gleeman’s harp to set to music, lest we +harrow the yet bleeding wound.” + +Redwald could not ask more; the answer was too plain and distinct, and +so he was forced to repress his curiosity. + +The conversation then became desultory and, finally, when the gleemen +began the well known _piece de resistance_, the battle of Brunanburgh, +Edwy yawned and Redwald looked sleepy, while the old thane actually +slept in his huge armchair, and was awakened only by the cessation of +the music and singing. + +Even in the presence of royalty itself Ella did not suffer the company +to disperse before the chaplain had said the customary compline +service, after which the guard was doubled at the door, and soon the +whole household was buried in sweet and peaceful sleep. + +Yet, although they knew it not, they nourished the deadliest foe of +their race in the bosom of the family. There was one at least who could +not sleep that night who now paced his narrow chamber, now looked forth +at the meadows, woods, and hills, sleeping in the summer twilight; now, +unchecked, burst into the wildest excitement, and paced his chamber as +a wild beast might pace the floor of his cage; now calmed down into a +sarcastic smile. + +“Yes!” he said in soliloquy, “and here I am at last; here in the halls +which should have been his and mine, and shall be mine yet; here! and +they know it not; here! and the reward of years of patient endurance is +at hand; here! yes, here, in the halls of Æscendune—dreamed of, sighed +after, prayed for at the shrine of such gods as promise vengeance; +here, by Woden and Thor; here by Satan’s help, if there be a +Satan!—here! here! here!” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. +NAKED THOUGH LOCKED IN STEEL. + + +Early in the morning the whole household was astir, and the breakfast +alone preceded the preparations for the departure of Edwy and his +retinue. Redwald did not appear, and they became uneasy at his +prolonged absence, until, sending to his room, they found him suffering +from sudden, but severe illness; which, as the leech shortly decided, +would absolutely prevent his travelling that day. + +It was evident that Edwy was annoyed by this, but it was not until +after a long conference with Redwald that he took Ella aside, and +pointing out to him the exposed position of the hall, besought his +permission to leave a garrison of fifty men under the command of this +trusty officer, which would ensure their safety, in case of any sudden +attack on the part of Edgar’s troops. + +“I can hardly feel that I need such protection, my royal master,” +replied Ella; “I dwell among my own people, and am perhaps safer when +quite unprotected.” + +“In that case, may I press my own poor claims?” replied the king. “In +case of the worst, I should have Æscendune to fall back upon, a retreat +secured by chosen men behind me, where one might halt and turn to bay; +again, Redwald’s sudden illness necessitates my leaving him to your +hospitality.” + +Thus pressed on every side, Ella felt he could but yield to a request +which the speaker had not only the power but the right, as his feudal +superior, to enforce; for Ella was not prepared to throw off his +allegiance, as most of his neighbours had done, and to make common +cause with Edgar. Again, the conversation of the previous night had +given him more confidence in Edwy, and more hope of seeing Elfric +again, like the returning prodigal, than he had previously had. + +Edwy saw this, and continued: + +“And it is but a few days hence, ere I propose to return with +Elfric—whom I could indeed put in command of such forces as are +necessary to secure you against our mutual foes, when I return +southward. Redwald and his troops will hold the place in trust for +Elfric, till he arrives.” + +The last lingering feeling of reluctance was now forcibly banished, and +Ella consented to receive Redwald as his guest, with a picked troop of +fifty men. + +“They shall be the best behaved warriors you have ever seen, my own +hus-carles—men who go to mass every morning, and shrift every week,” +added the deceitful prince; “at least,” he added, as he saw the look of +incredulity Ella could not suppress, “some of them do, I can’t say how +many.” + +In the course of an hour from this conversation, the royal party took +its departure, reduced to half its numbers. + +Edwy left amidst the regret of all, so amiable had been his manners, so +winning his ways. + +“I take a son’s liberty,” said he, as he saluted the venerable cheek of +the lady Edith; “but I will bring your other son back with me in a few +days.” + +The road leading over the hill and through the forest had swallowed up +the retreating force, when Ella personally superintended the +distribution of quarters to the guard of Redwald, many of whom +afterwards volunteered to follow him to the harvest field, and +displayed uncommon alacrity in carrying the wheat safely to its +granaries, saying the rebels should never have the reaping thereof. + +There was, however, a kind of gloom over the whole party through that +day. The thought that deadly strife impended close at hand weighed upon +the spirits of Ella, but they brightened again at the renewed hope of +meeting his prodigal, and he now hoped repentant, son in peace. + +Meanwhile, very different scenes were on the point of being enacted +only twice ten miles from the spot. + +The main body of the army left its quarters on the right bank of the +Avon, at the same hour in which Edwy left Æscendune to join them on +their march and they proceeded in safety all through the morning. At +midday they lay down to feed and to rest, and while thus resigning +themselves to repose, with the guards posted carefully around, the +sound of cavalry was heard in the distance, and shortly the royal party +appeared. Elfric was alert to receive them, but could not conceal his +surprise when he saw their diminished numbers, and perceived the +absence of Redwald. + +Edwy saw his look of embarrassment, and hastened to reply to the +question it conveyed. + +“They are left at Æscendune, fifty under the command of Redwald, to +fortify the house until we return. You must go home this time, and you +need not fear, for I have been a very saint at Æscendune, and they are +expecting Dunstan will speedily return and canonise me. Elfric, I have +used my sanctity for your advantage, since I have represented you as +sharing it at least in some degree.” + +“I fear me, my father is too wise to be so easily deceived.” + +“Nothing of the kind; he really seemed to believe in it; at all events, +I have promised you shall return with me.” + +“Did they really seem to wish to see me?” + +“They did really, especially your brother Alfred.” + +Elfric started as if an arrow had struck him. + +“Alfred. Alfred!” he said. + +“Yes, why not Alfred?” + +“And you saw him alive and well?” + +“To be sure, why not? Did you think he was dead.” + +Elfric became confused, and muttered some incoherent answer, but he +rejoiced in his very heart; he felt as if a mountain were removed from +him, and a sweet longing for home, such as he had not felt since a +certain Good Friday, sprang up in his mind, so strongly that he would +have gone then and there, had circumstances permitted. + +Alas, poor boy! his wish was not thus easily to be gratified: he had +sinned very deeply—his penance had yet to be accomplished; well has the +poet written: + +“_Facilis descensus Averno . . . . Sed retrograre gradum, superasque +evadere ad auras, Hoc opus—hic labor est._” xxvii + + +The midday halt concluded, the troops resumed their march for Alcester, +where they hoped to arrive about nightfall, and to surprise Edgar and +his few followers. All that afternoon they proceeded through a dense +woodland country; and the evening was setting in upon them, when +suddenly the scouts in front came galloping back, and gave the +startling information that entrenchments were thrown up across their +path, and that a large force was evidently entrenched behind. + +At first Edwy could scarcely believe the report; but Cynewulf, the +experienced commander upon whom, as we have said, the real command of +the force devolved, rode forward, and soon returned, having previously +ordered a general halt, and that entrenchments should be thrown up for +their own protection during the night. + +“Ealdorman,” said Edwy, impatiently, “why throw up entrenchments? can +we not carry theirs by storm? we are all ready, are we not, for a +valiant charge?” + +“Nay, my lord, we are but ill prepared,” was the reply, “for such +desperate measures. I am not certain they do not outnumber us; even so, +we probably excel them in discipline and skill, and have every chance +of victory tomorrow, which we should lose by fighting in the dark.” + +So Edwy, who did not lack personal courage, and would gladly have ended +the short raid then and there, was forced to be governed by wiser +heads, and accordingly the bivouacs were made, the fires lighted, and +the royal tent pitched upon the slope of a gentle valley, which +descended to a brook in the bottom, where the ground rose similarly on +the other side, and was crowned by the hostile entrenchment, behind +which rose the smoke of the enemy’s fires. The heads of numerous +soldiers, seen over the mound, showed how well they were prepared. + +The entrenchment was dug, the mound thrown up, the sentinels posted, +and all in so short a space of time that to the uninitiated in the art +of war, it would have seemed little short of miraculous; but the +discipline of the Danes, who owed their success generally to the skill +with which they fortified their camps, had been partially inherited by +their adversaries, and the hus-carles were not even all English: there +were many Danes amongst them. + +The suppers were soon cooked and eaten, the wine circulated freely, and +patriotic songs began to be heard: but there was one who seemed to have +no heart for them—Elfric. At the huge fire, which blazed near the royal +tent, Edwy sat as master of the feast, and he was in a state of +boisterous merriment. But all Elfric’s efforts could not hide the +depression of his spirits, and Edwy, who loved him sincerely—for the +reader has seen that he was quite capable of love—tried to rouse him +from it, anxious that no one should suspect the courage of his +favourite. + +Once or twice Elfric seemed to make great efforts to overcome this +feeling of depression, and partially succeeded in veiling it from all +but the observant young king. + +At last the feast was over. + +“My friends,” said the king, “we must be stirring early in the morning, +so we will now disperse for the night.” + +They drank a parting cup, then separated, while the king took Elfric’s +arm and led him aside. + +“Elfric,” said he, “did I not know my friend and most faithful +follower, I should suspect that he feared the morrow’s conflict.” + +“I cannot help it,” said Elfric; “perhaps I do fear it, yet, had I but +my father’s forgiveness, could I but see him once more, I could laugh +at the danger. It is not pain or death I fear, but I long to be where +you have been, I would I had gone with you now.” + +“So do I.” + +“And now I have my forebodings that I shall never hear my father’s +forgiveness; and, Edwy, if I die without it, I believe my spirit cannot +rest; I shall haunt the spot till the day of doom.” + +“This is all moonshine, Elfric. You have not been such a bad fellow +after all; if you go wrong, what will happen to the greater part of +those amongst us who may die tomorrow? When you once get into the +fight, and your blood gets warm, you will be all right; it is only the +first battle that gives one all these fancies.” + +“No; it is not that. I am of a race of warriors, and I do not suppose +one of that race ever felt like this in his first battle. I have often +looked forward to mine with joy, but now my mind is full of gloomy +forebodings: I feel as if some terrible danger, not that of the fight, +were hanging over me and mine, and as if I should never meet those I +did love once, either in this world or the next.” + +“The next! all we know about that comes from the priestly pratings. I +think, of the two heavens, Valhalla,xxviii with its hunting or fighting +by day, its feasting by night, would suit me best. I don’t know why we +should think ourselves wiser than our ancestors; they were most likely +right about the matter, if there be another world at all.” + +“I cannot disbelieve, if you can,” replied poor Elfric, “I have tried +to, but I can’t. Well, I daresay I shall know all about it by this time +tomorrow.” + +“Pshaw! let tomorrow take care of itself; ’tis our first fight, Elfric, +and we will have no cowardly forebodings; we shall live to laugh at +them all. What shall we do with Edgar, if we get him tomorrow? I +suppose one must not shed a brother’s blood, even if he be a rebel?” + +“Certainly not; no, no.” + +“Perhaps it will be shed for me, and a lucky thrust with sword or lance +may end all our trouble, and leave me sole king; but won’t the holy fox +Dunstan grieve if his pet, his favourite, gets hurt? Come, cheer up, +Elfric, my boy; dismiss dull care, and be yourself again!” + +Elfric tried very hard to do so, and again partly succeeded. They had +extended their walk all round the limits of the camp. It was a +beautiful starlit night: there was a new moon, which was just going +down, and an uncertain light hung about the field which was to be the +scene of the conflict. It was one of those bright nights when the very +aspect of nature suggests thoughts of the Eternal and the Infinite; +when the most untutored being, gazing up into the deep blue void, finds +his mind struggle vainly to grasp the hidden secrets those depths +conceal; when the soul seems to claim her birthright, and dreams of an +existence boundless, illimitable, as the starry wastes around. Such +were, perhaps, the ideas which animated the philosophers of the old +heathen world when they placed their departed heroes amongst the +constellations; such, perhaps, the thoughts which led the dying +apostate Julian to bid his followers weep no more for a prince about to +be numbered with the stars. + +Thoughts of peace would those radiant orbs have spoken, under any other +circumstances, to the ardent youth as he gazed upon them; but now they +oppressed him with the consciousness that he was at enmity with the +mighty Unknown, that he was in danger, such danger as he could not +comprehend; not that which comes from the lance point or the sword +blade, but danger which fills the soul with the consciousness of its +existence, yet is impalpable, not having revealed itself, only its +presence. + +“Goodnight, Elfric,” said Edwy, as they reached the camp on their +return; “goodnight. I hope you will be in better spirits in the +morning.” + +Edwy retired within the folds which concealed the entrance to his own +tent. Close by was the tent appointed for Elfric, who acted as his +page; and the latter entered also, and sat down on a camp stool. + +His bed did not seem to invite him; he sat on the seat, his face buried +in his hands; then he suddenly rose, threw himself on his knees, only +for a moment, rose up again: + +“I can’t, I can’t pray; if my fate be death, then come death and +welcome the worst. There will at least be nothing hidden then, nothing +behind the scenes. I will not be a coward.” + +The phrase was not yet written—“Conscience makes cowards of us all;” +yet how true the principle then as now—true before Troy’s renown had +birth, true in these days of modern civilisation. + +He could not sleep peacefully, although he laid himself down; his hands +moved in the air, as if to drive off some unseen enemy, as if the +danger whose presence was impalpable to the waking mind revealed itself +in sleep. + +“No, no” he muttered; “let the blow fall on me, on me, on me alone!” +then he rose as if he would defend some third person from the attack of +an enemy, and the word “Father” once or twice escaped his lips; yet he +was only dreaming. + +“Father!” again he cried, in the accents of warning, as if some +imminent danger menaced the loved one. + +He awoke, stared about, hardly recognising where he was. + +“What can I have been dreaming about?” he cried; “what can it all mean? +I thought I was at Æscendune;” and he strove vainly to recall the +scenes of his dream. + +The tread of the passing guard was the only sound which broke the +stillness of the camp. + +“I cannot sleep,” said Elfric, and walked forth. + +The night was waning, and in the east a red glow was creeping upwards; +the stars were, however, still brilliant. Opposite, at the distance of +less than a mile, the reflection of the camp fires, now low, revealed +the presence of the enemy; before him the mist slowly arose in white +thin smoke-like wreaths, from the grass whereon many should soon sleep +their last sleep, now in unconsciousness of their fate. + +“I wonder where I shall lie?” thought Elfric, as if it were certain he +would fall. + +He felt cooler now, as the hour drew near; he watched the red light +creeping upward, and saw the light clouds above catch the glow, until +the birds began their songs, the glorious orb arose to gild the coming +strife, and the shrill trumpet in the camp was answered by the distant +notes in the camp of the foe, like an echo afar off. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. +THE SLEEP OF PEACE. + + +The first day after the departure of the king from Æscendune passed +rapidly away. The soldiers who had remained behind with Redwald were +quiet and orderly in their demeanour, and even, in obedience to secret +orders, attended the evensong at the minster church, as if moved +thereto by devotion, although the curious spectator might easily +discover the unaccustomed character of their service, by the difficulty +with which they followed the prayers, and the uneasy impatience with +which they listened to a lengthened exposition of a portion of the +Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels from Father Cuthbert. + +The old thane and all his family were very anxious, it may be readily +believed, for the earliest news from the field of battle, for battle +every one agreed was impending; and, to gratify their natural +curiosity. Redwald sent out quick and alert members of his troop, to +act as messengers, and bear speedy news from the scene of action. + +The night set in clear and bright, as we have already seen; and while +poor Elfric was wandering about uneasily beneath that brilliant sky, +the same stars looked down peacefully upon his home, where all slept +sweetly under the fostering care, as they would have said, of their +guardian angels. + +The morn broke brightly, and with every promise of a fine harvest day. +The labourers were speedily again in the fields; the cattle wandered +under the herdsman’s care to their distant pastures; the subdued +tinkling of the sheep bells met the ear, and the other subdued sounds +which soothe the air on a summer’s day; and so the hours fled by, and +no one would have dreamed that, not twenty miles away, man met man in +the fierce and deadly struggle of war. + +When the reapers assembled for their midday meal, they discussed the +merits of the quarrel, and nearly all those who had been brought under +the eye of “Edwy the Fair” were eager in pleading his cause, and trying +to find some extenuation of his misdeeds in the matter of the illegal +marriage, for such it was, from the mildest point of view; and scarcely +a voice was raised on the opposite side, until Ella drew near the scene +of conversation, and observed that “while God forbid they should judge +the matter harshly, yet law was law, and right was right, and a +beautiful face or winsome look could not change it.” + +Strolling near the field, seemingly absorbed in thought, walked +Redwald, and seeing the reapers, he came towards them. + +“A picture of peaceful enjoyment,” he quietly said. “How often have I +wished I could but lay down sword and lance to take more innocent +weapons in hand, and to spend my declining days ’mid scenes like +these.” + +“Indeed!” said Ella. “It is generally thought that men whose trade is +war love their calling.” + +“Yes; sometimes the fierce din of battle seems a pastime fit for the +gods, but the banquet is apt to cloy.” + +“Have you followed your profession for many years?” + +“Since I was a mere child; even my boyhood was passed amid the din of +arms.” + +There were very few professional soldiers in that day, and they were +much dreaded. An Englishman was always ready to take up arms when +lawfully called by his feudal superior, or when home or civil rights +were in danger, but he generally laid them down and returned to his +fields with joy; hence the rustics looked upon a man like Redwald with +much undisguised curiosity. + +“Think you we shall soon hear from the contending parties?” asked +Alfred, who was, as usual, in attendance upon his father. + +“Perhaps by nightfall; one of my men has just returned to tell me that +the king’s progress was stopped by an entrenched camp of the rebels, +and that they expected to fight at early dawn.” + +The news was unexpected, and every one felt his heart beat more +quickly. + +“I have a messenger already on the spot, and so soon as the royal +forces have gained the victory he will speed hither as fast as four +legs can bring him; we shall probably hear by eventide.” + +It is needless to say how every one panted for the decisive news. Ella +and Alfred soon returned to the castle, and Redwald took his horse, and +rode out, as he said, to meet the messenger. + +The hours seemed to pass more slowly; the sun drew near the west, the +shadows lengthened; and Ella, with the lady Edith, Alfred, Edgitha, and +all the members of the little society, could hardly bend their minds to +any occupation, mental or physical. Elfric was ever in their thoughts. + +“O Ella!” said his wife, “this suspense is very hard to bear; I long to +hear about our boy.” + +The mother’s heart was bound up in him, as if there were no other life +in danger that day; Edwy or Edgar, it was little to her in comparison +with her longing for her first-born son. + +“He is in God’s Hands, dearest!” returned her husband; “and in better +Hands than ours.” + +Well might the thoughts of the lady Edith be concentrated on the crisis +before her. She had borne, with a mother’s wounded heart, the +separation of three years, and now it was a question of a few short +hours whether she should ever see him again or not. Now fancy painted +him wounded, nay dying, on the bloodstained field; now it impelled her +to sally forth towards the scene, as though her feeble strength could +bear her to him. Now she sought the chapel, and found refuge in prayer. +She had found refuge many many hours of that eventful day, but +especially since Redwald had borne the news of the imminent battle. + +At length the long suspense was ended. Redwald was seen riding at full +speed towards the castle, followed by the long-expected messenger. + +“Victory! victory!” he cried; “the rebels are defeated; the king shall +enjoy his own.” + +“But Elfric, my son! my son!” + +“Is safe: and will be here in a day or two, perhaps tomorrow.” + +“Thank God!” and the overcharged heart found relief in tears—happy +tears of joy. + +The messenger who followed Redwald brought detailed accounts of the +event. According to his statements it appeared that the king had broken +through the hostile entrenchment, and had scattered their forces in the +first attack. The messenger particularly asserted that he had seen +Elfric, and had been charged with the fondest messages for home, where +the youth hoped to be in a few days at the latest, seeing there was no +longer an enemy to fear. + +The hearts of all present were filled with thankfulness and joy. + +“Come, my beloved Edith,” said the old thane. “Let us go first to thank +God;” and they went together to the chapel which had witnessed so many +earnest prayers that day—now, they believed, so fully answered. + +All gloom and despondency seemed removed, and Ella went forth to walk +alone in the woods, to meditate in silence on the goodness of God. +Nearly each evening this had been his habit. The woods, he said, were +God’s first temples, and when alone he best raised his heart from +nature to nature’s God. + +His thoughts were happy that evening: his first-born boy would be +restored to him, and, like the father in the Gospels, he longed to +embrace the prodigal, and to tell him that all was forgiven. But he +schooled himself to patience, and many a fervent thanksgiving did he +offer as he wandered amidst the grassy glades. + +But he was more weary than usual with the toil and anxiety of the day, +and shortly seated himself upon a mossy bank beneath an aged oak. The +trees grew thickly behind and before him, on each side of the glade, +which terminated at no great distance in the heart of the pathless +forest, so that no occasional wayfarer would be likely to pass that +way. + +There he reposed, until a gentle slumber stole over him and buried all +his senses in oblivion. + +The day was nearly spent, the light clouds which still reflected the +sun’s ruddy glow were fast fading into a grey neutral tint, and +darkness was approaching. Once a timid deer passed along the glade, and +started as it beheld the sleeping form, then went on, but started yet +more violently as it passed a thicket on the opposite side. The night +breeze had arisen and was blowing freshly; but still the old man slept +on, as though he slept that sleep from which none shall awaken until +the archangel’s trump. + +Meanwhile they grew uneasy at the hall over his prolonged absence, and +at length Alfred started to find his father, beginning to fear that the +excitement of the day had been too great for him, and that he might +need assistance. He knew the favourite glade wherein the aged thane was +wont to walk, and the mossy bank whereon he frequently reposed, so he +lost no time, but bent his steps directly for the spot. + +As he drew near, he saw his father lying on the bank beneath the oak as +still in sound sleep, and marvelled that the chilly air of the evening +had not awoke him. He was not wont to sleep thus soundly. He approached +closely, but his steps did not arouse the sleeper. He now bent over +him, and put his hand on his shoulder affectionately and lovingly. + +“Father, awake,” he said; “the night is coming on; you will take cold.” + +But there was no answering voice, and the sleeper stirred not. Alfred +became seriously alarmed, but his alarm changed suddenly into dread +certainty. The feathered shaft of an arrow met his eye, dimly seen in +the darkness, as it stuck in the left side of the sleeping Ella. +Sleeping, indeed. But the sleep was eternal. + +Horrified at the sight, refusing to believe his eyes, the son first +continued his vain attempts to awake his sire, then fell on his knees, +and wrung his hands while he cried piteously, “O father, speak to me!” +as if he could not accept the fact that those lips would never salute +him more. The moonbeams fell on that calm face, calm as if in sleep, +without a spasm of pain, without the contraction of a line of the +countenance. The weapon had pierced through the heart; death had been +instantaneous, and the sleeper had passed from the sleep of this earth +to that which is sweetly called “sleep in the Lord,” without a struggle +or a pang. + +His heart full of joy and thanksgiving, he had gone to carry his +tribute of praise to the very throne of God. + +When the first paroxysm of pain and grief was over, the necessity of +summoning some further aid, of bearing the sad news to his home, +pressed itself upon the mind of Alfred, and he took his homeward road +alone, as if he hardly knew what he was doing, but simply obeyed +instinct. Arrived there, he could not tell his mother or sister; he +only sought the chamberlain and the steward, and begged them to come +forth with him, and said something had happened to his father. They +went forth. + +“We must carry something to bear him home,” he said, and they took a +framework of wood upon which they threw some bearskins. + +Alfred did not speak during the whole way, save that in answer to the +anxious inquiries of his companions he replied, “You will see!” and +they could but infer the worst from his manner, without giving him the +pain of telling the fatal truth. + +At length they reached the glade where the dead body lay. The moon was +bright, and in her light they saw the fatal truth at once. + +“Alas, my master! alas, my dear lord! Who has done this? Who could have +done it?” was their cry. “Was there one who did not love and revere +him?” + +More demonstrative than Alfred had been were they in their +lamentations, for the deepest grief is often the most silent. + +At length they raised the body, the temple of so pure and holy a +spirit, which had now returned to the God Who gave it, reverently as +men would have handled the relics of some martyr saint, and placed it +on the bier which they had prepared. Then they began their homeward +route, and ere a long time had passed they stood before the great gate +of the castle with their burden. + +It now became a necessity for Alfred to announce the sad news to his +widowed mother; and here the power of language fails us—the shock was +so sudden, so unexpected. The half of her life was so suddenly torn +from the bereaved one, that the pang was well-nigh insupportable. But +God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, and has promised that the +strength of His beloved ones shall be even as their day. So He +strengthened the sensitive frame to bear a shock which otherwise might +have slain it. + +The sounds of lamentation and woe were heard all over the castle as +they slowly bore the body to the domestic chapel, while some drew near, +impelled by an irresistible desire to gaze upon it, and then cried +aloud in excess of woe. Amongst the others, Redwald approached, and +gazed fixedly upon the corpse; and Eric the steward often declared, in +later days, that he saw the wound bleed afresh under the glance of the +ruthless warrior, but perhaps this was an afterthought. + +Father Cuthbert, who had now been elected prior of the monastic house +below, on the banks of the river, soon heard the sad news, and hastened +up to tender the sweet consolations of religion—the only solace at such +a time, for it is in seasons of suffering that we best comprehend the +Cross. + +When he entered he saw the corpse in the chapel, where they had placed +it before the altar, and he could only say, “Alas, my lord! alas, my +dear friend!” until he knelt down to pray, and rose up somewhat calmed. + +Then he sought the chamber where the lady Edith hid her woe, and there +he showed her that God was love, hard though it was sometimes for the +frail flesh to see it; and he bade her look to the Divine Sufferer of +Whom it is said, “In all their afflictions He was afflicted;” and so by +his gentle ministrations he brought calm to the troubled breast, and it +seemed as if one had said to the waves of grief, “Peace, be still.” + +And then he gathered the household to prayer, and while they prayed +many a “_Requiescat_” for the faithful soul, as they said the dirge +commending to the Fathers Hands a sheep of His fold, so they also +prayed for strength to see the love which was hidden behind all this +sad, sad visitation, and to know the meaning of the words “Though He +slay me, yet will I trust in Him.” + +And then he bade them rest—those, at least, who were able to do +so—while he watched by the body, as was then the custom, all through +the deep night. + +And so the stars which had looked down from heaven so peacefully upon +the house of Æscendune the night before, of which we wrote, now looked +down as coldly bright as if no change had occurred, shining alike upon +weal or woe, upon crime or holy deed of saint. Yet as the kneeling +friar saw them through the chapel window, he thought they were but the +golden lights which lay about the confines of that happy region where +the faithful live in unspeakable felicity for ever with their Lord, and +he found consolation in the thought of the Eternal and the Infinite. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. +THE BATTLE. + + +The early morn, as we have already seen, broke upon the adverse hosts +of Edwy and Edgar as the trumpet sounded to arouse them from their +slumbers, in many instances from the last slumber they should ever +enjoy. + +Every soldier was on his legs in a moment, and, in the first place, +preparations were made for breakfast: for it was a recognised fact +amongst our ancestors that if you wanted a man to fight or do anything +else well, you must feed him well first. So the care of the body was +never neglected, however pressing the danger. + +Accordingly, Edwy called Elfric to sit by his side at the substantial +meal which commenced the day, and saw, with much pleasure, that the +cloud had partly passed from his friend’s brow for the hope of +immediate action, of the excitement of battle, had done much to drive +lowness and depression from the young warrior. So he strove to chat and +laugh with the loudest, and when the moment came to marshal the host, +and to put them in array, his spirits were as high as in old times. + +The cavalry, which was their strongest arm, was under the command of +Edwy himself, although a sturdy warrior, who had fought in many a +battle, rode on his right hand to supply his lack of experience. + +The main body of the infantry was under the command of Earl Cynewulf, +while the reserve was under the command of Redwald’s immediate +subordinate, and consisted almost exclusively of the household guard. + +The plan of attack, for it was quite decided that they should take the +initiative, was simple, and in accordance with the ordinary tactics of +the times. The heavy-armed foot were bidden first to advance upon the +entrenchments which crowned the opposite hill, and to break the +infantry of the enemy, which was drawn up before them in formidable +array; this done, the horse were immediately to avail themselves of the +opening thus made, and the entrenchments to be assaulted by both +cavalry and infantry. + +Armed with huge axes, clad in mail, and bearing large shields, the foot +advanced to the attack. They were a gallant company; and as the sun +shone upon their glittering armour, or was reflected back from the +bright steel of their axes, they might well inspire faint hearts with +terror; but faint hearts were not amongst those opposed to them. The +chosen men of the northwest, some of half-British blood, crowned the +opposite hill, drawn up in front of their entrenchments, as if they +scorned any other defence than that supplied by their living valour. +They had borrowed their tactics from the Danes: deep and strong on all +sides, they seemed to oppose an impenetrable wall to the foe; they had +their shields to oppose to darts or arrows, their axes for the footmen, +their spears to form a hedge of steel no horse could surmount. + +Even should they yield to the pressure, still all would not be lost; +their retreat was secured into the entrenchments, and there they might +well hope to detain the enemy until the whole population should rise +against the men of Wessex and their leader, and his cause become +hopeless. + +Steadily up the hill came the brave troops of Edwy, and from within +their ranks, as they ascended the slope, a shower of arrows was +discharged by the archers who accompanied them, under their protection; +but no return was yet made by the foe, until they were close at hand, +when a loud war cry burst from the hostile ranks, and a perfect shower +of darts and arrows rained upon the invaders. + +Still they persevered, although they left a living, struggling line on +the bloody grass behind them—persevered, like men longing for the close +hand-to-hand encounter, longing to grasp their foes in deadly grip. The +shock arrived; and axe and sword were busy in reaping the harvest of +death. So great was the physical strength of the combatants that arms +and legs were mown off by a stroke, and men were cloven in two, from +the crown downwards, by the sweeping blows of the deadly steel. + +It was a fearful struggle, but it was a short one; the line was +unshaken in its strength; in vain Edwy’s archers behind shot their +arrows so as to curve over the heads of their brethren and fall amongst +the foe; the men of Wessex recoiled and gave way. + +Edwy seized what he thought the auspicious moment when the ranks of the +foe, although unbroken, were yet weary and breathless, and ordered his +cavalry to charge. The Mercians beheld the coming storm at a distance; +down on their knees went the first line, their spears resting on the +ground; behind them the second bent over to strike with their axes; +while a third rank, the archers, drew their bows, and prepared to +welcome the rushing enemy with a discharge of deadly arrows. + +Every heart beat quickly as the fatal moment came near; onward, with a +sound like thunder, galloped the horse of Edwy. He himself rode at +their head, clad in light armour, and by his side Elfric. All trace of +fear was gone now in the mad excitement of the charge; before them they +saw the wail of spear points; nearer and nearer their coursers bounded, +until they seemed to fly. Every rider leant forward, that his sword +might smite as far as possible; and, daring the points, trusting +perhaps to the breastplates of their horses and their own ready blades, +they rushed madly upon the foe. + +In cold blood no one could, perhaps, have ridden fearlessly against +such an obstacle; but in the excitement of the moment the warriors of +Edwy seemed capable of charging any imaginable barrier: and it became +almost a pure calculation, not of the respective bravery of the troops, +for none were cowards on either side, but of mere physical laws of +force and resistance. + +Elfric scarcely looked where he was going. He saw a shining lance +point, about to impale him, he diverted it by his sword blade, as he +was hurried into the midst of axes, swords, lances, and beheld the +warrior opposite to him in the second rank raise his axe to inflict a +fearful blow, which would have severed his horse’s neck, had not an +arrow transfixed the foe. + +The wedge seemed partly broken, and the king had begun to exult in the +anticipation of speedy victory, when from behind each end of the +entrenchment rushed two bodies of hostile cavalry; they fell upon +Edwy’s forces in the rear, and in a few moments all was confusion. + +The warriors of Edgar rallied, drove the horse out of their lines, +advanced slowly, and the horsemen of the rival brothers, mingled +together in deadly strife, in personal combat, where each man seemed to +have sought and found his individual foe. + +They moved slowly down the bill towards the brook, man after man +falling and dotting the green sward of the hill with struggling, +writhing bodies. + +Meanwhile, Cynewulf was attempting to rally the flying foot, which had +been cut almost in two by the charge of the Mercian cavalry: he +succeeded, with great difficulty, in doing so at the brook which ran +along the bottom of the valley, and, with the stream in their front, +they prepared to afford a refuge to their own, and to resist the +hostile horse. + +Edwy saw the opportunity, and, raising himself in his stirrups, called +upon his friends to follow him: he leapt the brook, and galloped round +behind the foot, where nearly all the unwounded horsemen followed him. +He had fought well, had slain more than one foe with his own royal +hand, as became a descendant of Cerdic, and now he but retired to +organise another and stouter resistance to the daring foe. + +But he was forced to admit now that Cynewulf was right in his +conjecture, and that they were utterly outnumbered, for the foe poured +forth from their entrenchment and advanced in good order down the +slope; while the Mercian cavalry, forming in two detachments to the +left and right, crossed the brook and charged along its banks upon the +flanks of the Wessex infantry, at the same moment. + +The warrior upon whose advice Edwy had been told to depend had fallen: +he was left to his own resources. Alas! he forgot he was a commander, +and, waving his plumed cap as a signal for his brother knights to +follow, charged upon the horsemen who were advancing up stream at like +speed, forgetting that a similar body was advancing in the opposite +direction, and that as all his force were following his lead, the +opposite flank of the foot was unprotected. + +In a single minute they were all engaged in the fiercest melee which +imagination can well paint, fighting as furiously as men of the same +blood only seem to fight when once the claims of kindred are cast +aside. Swords ascended and descended with deadly violence; horses +raised themselves up on their hind legs, and, catching the deadly +enthusiasm, seemed to engage their fellows; riders fell, sternly +repressing the groan which pain would extort, while their steeds, less +self controlled, uttered, when wounded, those ear-piercing cries only +heard from the animals in deadly terror or pain. + +In the midst of this tumult Elfric engaged a Mercian of superior size +and strength; it was his second personal encounter; in his first, he +had seen his adversary fall with a warrior’s stern joy, but now he was +overmatched; borne down by an arm twice as strong as his own, his guard +was broken down, and a deadly blow laid open his shoulder, cutting the +veins in the neck of his horse at the same fell sweep. The animal, +blinded with blood, staggered, fell, and he was down amongst the +horses’ feet, confined by one leg, for his horse rolled partly upon him +in its dying struggles; while he felt the hoofs of other chargers in +close proximity to his heed. + +A loud cry, “They fly! They fly! Victory! Victory!” reached him even +then. He well knew from which party the cries must proceed, and that he +was left to the mercy of the victorious Mercians. + +It was even so; the charge of the hostile cavalry on the left flank had +broken down the ranks of the infantry on that side; the hostile foot +had contrived to cross the brook in the confusion, and all was lost. + +The reserve now came rapidly forward, but, seeing at a glance the state +of things, retired to defend the entrenched camp, so as to give the +king and his broken and routed followers time to escape, while they +made good the defence with their lives. So they retired at once into +the camp, whither Edwy and his few surviving companions galloped a +moment after them. + +Edwy was unhurt; he dismounted: his fair face flushed to a fiery red +with heat and excitement, he leapt on the entrenchment and looked on +the plain. He saw those of his own followers who had not yet made good +their escape, ridden down, cut to pieces, slaughtered in the excitement +of the moment without mercy; the sight stung him, be would have sallied +out to their defence, but Cynewulf, who was yet living, met him in the +gateway, and sternly seized the bridle of his steed. + +“My lord and king,” he said; “your life is precious to Wessex, you may +not throw it away.” + +“I cannot see my followers slaughtered: loose my bridle, I command +you;” and he raised his sword impetuously. + +“You may cut me down, and so reward my faithful service; but, living, +you shall not pass me on your road to destruction. My lord, I am old +enough to be your father.” + +But there was one gay young noble present, who knew better than +Cynewulf the key to Edwy’s heart. He was one of the boon companions we +have been before introduced to; but he had fought, poor young fellow, +gallantly all that day, and now he could fight no longer: Edwy saw him +reel and fall from his horse. + +“Elfgar!” he said; as he strove to raise his friend and subject from +the ground—“not seriously wounded I hope!” + +“Dying, and for my king, as is my duty let a dying voice reach you, my +dear lord. Save yourself if you would save Elgiva, if you —if you—” the +words came broken and faint “—are slain, she will be at the mercy of +her deadly foes.” + +His head fell helplessly down upon his shoulder, and ere the king could +make any reply, he saw that he was indeed past hope. + +But his dying words had sunk deeply into the heart of Edwy. + +“Poor Elfgar! he was right. O Elgiva! Elgiva! this is a sad day for +thee.” + +“Return then to her, my lord,” said Cynewulf. “See, they are preparing +now to assault the camp; I can hold it for hours, and if you are not +here, I can make good terms with our foes; but, if you stay, you but +embarrass us: ride out, my liege.” + +“And desert my subjects?” + +“They will all acquit you: haste, my lord, haste, before they surround +the camp, for your fair queen’s sake, or you are lost.” + +“Come, my men, we must fly,” said Edwy, sullenly; and he led the way +reluctantly to the back of the camp. + +The road was partly encumbered with fugitives, but not wholly, as most +of them sought the entrenched camp. Cynewulf accompanied him to the +gate, where he stopped to give one last piece of advice. + +“Fly, my lord, for Wessex at once; lose no time; the best route will be +the Foss Way; they will not suspect that you have taken that direction. +Ride day and night; if you delay anywhere you are lost.” + +“Farewell, faithful and wise counsellor. Odin and Thor send that we may +meet again;” and Edwy with only a dozen followers rode out at full +speed. + +The Mercians had not yet reached that side of the camp, which was +concealed by woods which were clear of all enemies, and he rode on +rapidly. + +“What has become of Elfric, my Leofric?” he said to one of his faithful +train. + +“I fear me he is dead: I saw him fall in the last struggle.” + +“Poor Elfric! poor Elfric! then his forebodings have come true; he will +never see his father again.” + +“It is all fortune and fate, and none can resist his doom, my lord,” +said Leofric. + +“But Elfric; yes, I loved Elfric. I would I had never left that fatal +field.” + +“Think, my lord, of Elgiva.” + +“Yes, Elgiva—she is left to me and left all is left. Ride faster, +Leofric, I fancy I hear pursuers.” + +They had, at Cynewulf’s suggestion, taken fresh horses from the +reserve, and had little cause to fear pursuit. In an hour they reached +the Foss Way and rode along the route described in our former chapter, +until, reaching the frontiers of the territory of the old Dobuni, they +left the Foss, and rode by the Roman trackway which we have previously +described, until they turned into a road which brought them deep into +Oxfordshire. Here they were in a territory which had been a debateable +land between Mercia and Wessex, where the sympathies of the people were +not strongly enlisted on either side and they were comparatively safe. + +They passed Kirtlington; rested at Oxenford, then rode through +Dorchester and Bensington to Reading, whence they struck southward for +Winchester, where Edwy rested from his fatigue in the society of +Elgiva. + +So ended the ill-advised raid into Mercia. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. +EARTH TO EARTH, AND DUST TO DUST. + + +Although Edwy and his little troop had been successful in gaining the +main road, and in escaping into Wessex, yet few of his followers had +been so fortunate, and his broken forces were seeking safety and escape +in all directions, wanderers in a hostile country. A large number found +a refuge in the entrenched camp; but it was surrounded by the foe in +less than half-an-hour after the king’s escape, and all ingress or +egress was thenceforth impossible. + +While one large body fled eastward towards the Watling Street, the +soldiers who had accompanied the king to Æscendune naturally turned +their thoughts in that direction. It was, as they had seen, capable of +a long defence—well provisioned, and already partly garrisoned; nor +could they doubt the joy with which their old companions would receive +them, either to share in the defence of the post, or to accompany them +in an honourable retreat southward. + +So, not only those who survived of the fifty who had left Æscendune the +previous morning, but all whom they could persuade to join them, +actuated separately by the same considerations, made their way in small +detachments through the forest towards the hall. Redwald had thoroughly +earned the confidence of all his warriors, and they would follow him to +death or victory with equal devotion. Now, in adversity, they only +sought to put themselves once more under the rule of their talented and +daring chieftain. + +Therefore it was that while Father Cuthbert was yet kneeling in the +chapel, where the body of the departed thane had been placed, the +devotions of the good priest were disturbed by the blowing of horns and +the loud shout whereby the first fugitives sought admittance into the +castle. + +Redwald had also been up nearly all night pacing his room, muttering +incoherently to himself. Over and over again he regarded intently a +locket containing a solitary tress of grey hair, and once or twice the +word “Avenged” rose to his lips. + +“And they little know,” said he, soliloquising, “who the avenger is, or +what have been his wrongs; little know they how the dead is represented +in the halls of his sire—blind! blind! Whichever way the victory +eventually turn, he is avenged.” + +While he thus soliloquised he was aroused by the same noise which had +disturbed Father Cuthbert’s devotions, and, recognising its source, +betook himself to the gateway, where some of his own soldiers were on +guard, who, true to discipline, awaited his permission to allow their +comrades to enter: it is needless to say it was readily given. + +Broken and dispirited was the little troop of ten or a dozen men, who +first appeared in this manner after the fight; their garments torn and +bloody, some of them wounded, they yet raised a shout of joy as they +saw their trusted leader. + +“Whence come ye, my comrades in arms?” said he, “and what are your +news—you look like men who have fled from battle.” + +“We did not fly till all was lost.” + +The countenance of Redwald indicated some little emotion, though it was +transient as the lightning’s flash in the summer night. + +“The king—is it well with him?” + +“He has fled with a small troop to the south.” + +“Saw you aught of Elfric of Æscendune?” + +“He fell in the last charge of the cavalry.” + +“Dead?” + +“We think so.” + +“How is it that you have suffered yourselves to be beaten?” + +“Had you been there it might have ended differently. We became the +aggressors, and attacked a superior force, while they had all the +advantage of ground.” + +“Come in. You must first have some food and wine; then you shall tell +me all. We may need your help here, and shall be glad of every +able-bodied man.” + +“More are on the road.” + +And so it proved, for party after party continued to fall in. The +solemn quiet, which so well befitted the house of mourning, was +banished by the presence of the soldiery in such large numbers, for +early in the day nearly a hundred and fifty were gathered together, and +accommodation threatened to fall short. + +Under these circumstances the lady Edith became very anxious that +either the departure of her unwelcome guests should be hastened, or +that the loved remains should be removed at once to the priory church, +where she could bemoan her grief in quiet solitude, and be alone with +her beloved and God. There seemed no rest or peace possible in the +hall, and Redwald was apportioning all the accommodation to his +followers as they came, preserving only the private apartments of the +lady Edith from intrusion. + +She was still expecting the arrival of Elfric, for Redwald had not +communicated the news he had received, and she did not even know that +King Edwy had been defeated; so absorbed was she in her grief, that she +did not note the thousand little circumstances which might have told +her as much. + +But before the hour of terce, Alfred came into the room where she was +seated with her daughter, and she saw by his troubled countenance that +he had something to communicate which pained him to tell. + +“Elfric!” she said—“he is well?” + +“He has not come yet, my mother; and I grieve to say that we were +deceived yesterday—deceived about the battle.” + +“How so?” + +“The king was defeated; he has fled southward, and there has been a +great slaughter.” + +“But Elfric?” + +“No one can tell me anything about him,” said Alfred, wringing his +hands. “Mother, you must leave this place.” + +“Leave our home—and now?” + +“They talk of defending it against the forces of the Etheling Edgar, +who has been declared king; and we should all be in great danger.” + +“But will they stay here against our will?” + +“Yes; for they say their lives depend upon it, that the Mercians scour +all the country round about, that all the roads are now occupied and +guarded, so that they can only hope to defend this place until they can +make terms with the King of Mercia, as they call Edgar, who is likely +to be acknowledged by all north of the Thames. The curse of the Church +is, they say, upon Edwy.” + +“Father Cuthbert is still here, is he not?—what does he advise? where +shall we go?” + +“He says we can have the old house in which he, and the mass-thanes +xxix before him, lived while as yet the priory was incomplete or +unbuilt. It is very comfortable, and close to the church.” + +“But to take him so soon from his home!” + +“They will place him in God’s house, before the altar; there could not +be a better place where they or we could wish his dear remains to await +the last rites upon earth.” + +At that moment Father Cuthbert entered the room unannounced. + +“Pardon me, my revered lady,” he began; “but I grieve to say that your +safety demands instant action, and must excuse my intrusion; your life +and liberty are no longer safe here.” + +“Life and liberty?” + +“There is some foul plot to detain you all here, on pretence your +safety requires it. I have been this morning to Redwald, and he refuses +permission for any one to leave the place, asserting that thus only can +he assure your safety. Now, it is plain that if the place comes to be +besieged you would be far safer in the priory or the old priests’ +house. Our own countrymen would not injure us.” + +“He will not detain us by force?” + +“I would not trust to that; but we must meet guile by guile. I have +pretended to be content on your behalf and he is just going to leave +the hall, with the greater part of his followers, to collect provisions +and cattle. I have told him that the Grange farm is well stocked; he +has caught the bait, and is going to superintend the work of spoliation +in person: far better, in the present need, that he should rob the +estate than that a hair of your head or of those of your children +should perish.” + +“But why do you suspect him of evil?” + +“I cannot tell you now. I have overheard dark, dark speeches. So soon +as he has gone, Alfred and I must summon all your own people who are in +the hall. We will then bring the body forth, and follow it ourselves; +as we shall outnumber those left behind I do not imagine they will +dare, in his absence, to interfere with our progress.” + +“I will go at once,” said Alfred, “and summon the household.” + +“No; you would be observed. I am older and perhaps a little more +discreet. Stay with your mother till all is ready.” + +Alfred reluctantly obeyed, and Father Cuthbert went forth. So great was +their anxiety that it almost banished the power of prayer, save such +mental shafts as could be sent heavenward in each interval of thought. + +At last Alfred, who was at the window, saw Redwald and his +followers—nearly a hundred in number—leave the castle and ride across +towards the forest in the direction of the farm in question. Another +moment and Father Cuthbert entered. + +“Are you ready? If so, follow me.” + +He took them by a private passage into the chapel, where four men +already stood by the bier, ready to head the procession, and thirty or +forty others were gathered in the chapel or about the door—their own +vassals, good and true. They all were armed. + +Father Cuthbert ascended the wooden tower above the chapel, which +served as a bell cot. He looked from its windows; the party of Redwald +had disappeared behind the trees. + +He came down and gave the signal. The sad procession started; they +descended the steps to the courtyard. Redwald had left some forty or +fifty men behind—men who had grown old in arms, and who, if they had +pleased, might perhaps have stopped the exit, but they were not +sufficiently in the confidence of their leader to take the initiative; +and the only man who was in his confidence, and whom he had charged to +see that no one departed, was fortunately at that moment in another +part of the building. The sentinel at the drawbridge was one of +Redwald’s troop. He menaced opposition, and refused to let the +drawbridge be peaceably lowered. + +“Art thou a Christian?” said Father Cuthbert, coming forward in his +priestly attire, “and dost thou presume to interfere with a servant of +the Lord and to delay a funeral?” + +“I must obey my orders.” + +“Then I will excommunicate thee, and deliver thy soul to Satan.” + +And he began to utter some awful Latin imprecation, which so aroused +the superstition of the sentinel that he made no further opposition, +which perhaps saved his life, for the retainers of Æscendune were +meditating instant violence, indignant at the delay and the outrage to +their lady. + +They themselves let the drawbridge down and guarded the sad cortege +over the plain. Their numbers increased every moment, and before they +reached the neighbourhood of the priory they had little cause to fear +any attack, should Redwald have arrived and have been rash enough to +attempt one. + +The old parsonage house, which had served for the residence of each +successive parish prior or mass-thane, was a large and commodious +building, containing all such accommodation as the family absolutely +required in the emergency, while furniture, provision and comforts of +all kinds were sent over from the priory, for the good fathers did not +forget at this hour of need that they owed their own home to the +liberality of Ella and his father. + +So when they had deposited the loved remains before the altar of the +church, and had knelt a brief season in prayer, the exiled family took +possession of their temporary home. It was hard—very hard—to give up +their loved dwelling at such a season of affliction, but the dread +which Redwald had somehow inspired made it a great relief to be removed +from his immediate presence. + +Yet they could give no reason for the feeling they all shared. Father +Cuthbert evidently suspected, or knew, things which he as yet concealed +from them. + +“Who could have slain the husband and father?” + +This was the unanswered question. Their suspicions could only turn to +Redwald or some of his crew: no marauders were known to lurk in the +forest; there was, they felt assured, not one of his own people who +would not have died in his defence. Again, it was not the lust of gold +which had suggested the deed, for they had found the gold chain he wore +untouched. What then could have been the motive of the murderer? + +Father Cuthbert had found a solution, which was based upon sad +experience of the traditional feuds so frequently handed down from +father to son. Still he would not suggest further cause of disquietude, +and added no further words. + +The utter uncertainty about Elfric was another cause of uneasiness. +Whether he had gone southward with the king, or had fallen on the +battlefield, they knew not; or whether he had surrendered with the +prisoners taken in the entrenched camp, and who had been all admitted +to mercy. + +In the course of the morning they saw Redwald return, laden with the +spoils of the Grange farm—oxen and sheep, waggons containing corn, +driven before him. What passed within on his entrance they could not +tell; how narrow their escape they knew not—were not even certain it +had been an escape at all. + +It was now determined that the interment should take place on the +morrow, and the intelligence was communicated rapidly to all the +tenantry. + +Hourly they expected the forces of Mercia to appear, and exact a heavy +account from Redwald for his offences. He was supposed to be the +instigator of the expedition which had failed so utterly; it was not +likely that he would be allowed to retain Æscendune a long time. The +only surprise people felt was that he should have dared to remain at +the post when all hope of successful resistance had ceased. He had his +own reasons, which they knew not. + +Under these circumstances it seemed desirable to hurry forward the +interment, lest it should be interfered with from without, in the +confusion of hostile operations against the hall. + +The priory church was a noble but irregular structure, of great size +for those days. The cunning architect from the Continent, who had +designed it, had far surpassed the builders of ordinary churches in the +grandeur of his conception. The lofty roof, the long choir beyond the +transept, gave the idea of magnitude most forcibly, and added dignity +to the design. In the south transept was a chapel dedicated especially +to St. Cuthbert, where the aged Offa reposed, and the mother of Ella. +There they had removed the body to await the last solemn rites. Six +large wax tapers burned around it, and watchers were there day and +night—mourners who had loved him well, and felt that in him they had +lost a dear friend. + +The wife, the son, or the daughter, were ever there, but seldom alone. +For when the monks in the choir were not saying the canonical hours, or +the low mass was not being said at one of the side altars, still the +voice of intercession arose, with its burden: + +“Eternal rest give unto him, O Lord, +And let perpetual light shine upon him.” + + +At length the morning came, the second only after death. The +neighbouring thanes whom the troubled times did not detain at home, the +churls of the estate, the thralls, crowded the precincts of the +minster, as the solemn bell tolled the deep funeral knell. At length +the monks poured into the church, while the solemn “_Domino refugium_” +arose from their lips—the same grand words which for these thousand +years past have told of the eternity of God and the destiny of the +creature; speaking as deeply to the heart then as in these days of +civilisation. + +The mourners entered, Alfred supporting his widowed mother, who had +summoned all her fortitude to render the last sad offices to her dear +lord; her daughter, a few distant relations—there were none nearer of +kin. The bier, with its precious burden, was placed in the centre +before the high altar. Six monks, bearing torches, knelt around it. A +pall, beautifully embroidered, covered the coffin, a wreath of flowers +surmounting a cross was placed upon it. + +The solemn requiem mass commenced, and the great Sacrifice once offered +upon Calvary was pleaded for the soul of the deceased thane. When the +last prayer had been said, the coffin was sprinkled with hallowed +water, and perfumed with sweet incense, after which it was removed to +its last resting place. The grave was already prepared. Again the +earthly cavern was sprinkled with the hallowed water, emblematical of +the blood of sprinkling which speaketh better things than that of Abel, +and the body—the sacred dust for which Christ had died, in which God +had dwelt as in a temple—was lowered, to be sown in corruption, that +hereafter it might be raised in incorruption and joy unspeakable. + +All crowded to take the last sad look. Alfred felt his dear mother’s +arm tremble as she leant on him, yet gazed firmly into that last +resting place, while the solemn strain arose: + +“Ego sum resurrectio et vita. Qui credit in Me, etiam si mortuus fuerit +vivet; et omnis qui vivit, et credit in Me, non morietur in æternum.” +xxx + + + + +CHAPTER XX. +“AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT.” + + +The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn what had really +been the fate of the unhappy Elfric of Æscendune—whether he had indeed +been cut off with the work of repentance incomplete, or whether he yet +survived to realise the calamity which had fallen upon his household. + +He lived. When the blow of his adversary, as we have seen, crushed him +to the earth, and he lay there with his head on the ground, prostrate, +amidst kicking and plunging hoofs, and the roar and confusion of deadly +strife, Providence, without which not one sparrow falleth to the +ground, watched over him, and averted the iron hoofs from his forehead. +Could one have concentrated his gaze upon that little spot of earth and +have seen the furious hoofs graze, without injuring, that tender +forehead, could he have beheld the gallop of the retreating steeds over +and around that senseless form, for it now lay senseless, he would have +realised that there is One Whose Eye is observant of each minute detail +which concerns the life of His beloved ones—nay, Who knows the +movements of the tiniest insect, while His Hand directs the rolling +spheres. And his care preserved Elfric for His Own wise ends, until the +fight receded, leaving its traces behind it, as when the tide of ocean +recedes after a storm and the beach is strewn with wreck—bodies of men, +of horses, mutilated, dismembered, dead or dying, disabled or +desperately wounded. + +Hours had passed, during which the sounds of the combat still +maintained at the entrenched camp came freshly on the ear, and then +died away, until the solemn night fell upon the scene, and the only +sound which smote the ear were faint, faint moans—cries of “Water! +water!” incessantly repeated from hundreds of feeble lips. + +It was then that Elfric awoke from the insensibility which had resulted +from exhaustion and the stunning blow he had received in his fall. +Every limb seemed in pain, for the loss of blood had not left the vital +powers strength for the maintenance of the due circulation through the +body, and the cold night air chilled the frame. He did not at first +comprehend where he was, but as his senses returned he perceived all +too well that he was left for dead. + +His first impulse was to see whether he had strength to arise. He +raised himself partially, first on one elbow, and then he strove to +stand up, but fell back feebly and helplessly, like an infant who first +essays to escape its mother’s arms and to trust its feeble limbs. + +Then he looked around him, thus raising his head, and gazed upon the +sad and shocking scene. Close by him, with the head cleft literally in +two by a battle-axe, lay a horseman, and his blood reddened all the +ground around Elfric’s feet, and had deeply dyed the youth’s lower +garments; a horse, his own, lay dead, the jugular vein cut through, +with all the surrounding muscles and sinews; hard by, a rider had +fallen with such impetus, that his helmet had fixed itself deeply in +the ground, and the body seemed as if it had quivered for the moment in +the air; a dart had transfixed another through belt and stomach, and he +lay with the weapon appearing on either side the body. Near these lay +another, whose thigh had been pierced to the great artery, and who had +bled to death, as the deadly paleness of the face showed; here and +there one yet lived, as faint moan and broken utterance testified; but +Elfric could bear no more, his head sank upon the ground, and he hid +his face. + +It was bright starlight, and the gleam of the heavenly host seemed to +mock the wounded youth as he thought of the previous night, when, sound +in body, he had wandered beneath the glittering canopy of the heavens; +and thus reminded, all the thoughts of that previous night came back +upon him, especially the remembrance of his sin, of his desertion of +his father, of his vicious life at court, of his neglect for three +years and more of all the obligations of religion, and he groaned aloud +in the anguish of his spirit. + +“Oh! spare me, my God!” he cried, “for I am not fit to die! Spare me, +that I may at least receive my father’s forgiveness.” + +For he felt as if he could not ask God to forgive him until he had been +forgiven by his father. Little did he think, poor boy, that that father +lay cold in death; that never could he hear the blessed words of +forgiveness from his tongue; neither had he the consolation of knowing +how completely he had been forgiven, and how lovingly he had been +remembered in his father’s last hours upon earth. + +“I cannot die! I cannot die!” thus he cried; and he strove again to +raise himself from the ground, but in vain; strove again, as if he +would have dragged his feeble body through pain and anguish all the way +to Æscendune, but could not. The story of the prodigal son, often told +him by Father Cuthbert, came back to him, not so much in its spiritual +as in its literal aspect: he would fain arise and go to his father; but +he could not. + +“O happy prodigal!” he cried; “thou couldst at least go from that far +off country, and the husks which the swine did eat; but I cannot, I +cannot!” + +While thus grieving in bitterness of spirit, he saw a light flitting +about amongst the dead bodies, and stopping every now and then; once he +saw it pause, and heard a cry of expostulation, then a faint scream, +and all was still; and he comprehended that this was no ministering +angel, but one of those villainous beings who haunt the battlefield to +prey upon the slain, and to despatch with short mercy those who offer +resistance. + +He lay very, very quiet, hoping that the light would not come near him, +and he trembled every time it bent its course that way; but at length +his fears seemed about to be realised—it drew near, and he saw the face +of a hideous looking hag, dressed in coarse and vile garments, who held +a bloody dagger in the right hand, and kept the left in a kind of bag, +tied to her person, in which she had evidently accumulated great store. +Her eyes were roaming about, until the light suddenly was reflected +from the poor lad’s brilliant accoutrements, and she advanced towards +him. + +He groaned, and sank backwards, and her hand was upon the dagger, while +she cast such a look as the fabled vampire might cast upon her destined +victim, loving gold much, but perhaps blood most, when all at once she +turned and fled. + +Elfric knew not what had saved him; when voices fell upon his ear, and +the baying of a dog. + +“Which way has that hag fled? Pursue her, she murders the wounded.” + +The sound of rushing feet was heard, and Elfric felt that help was +near, yet leaving him, and he cried aloud, “Help! help! for the love of +God.” + +One delayed in his course, and came and stood over the prostrate form. +It was a monk, for the boy recognised the Benedictine habit, and his +heart sank within him as he remembered how pitilessly he had helped to +drive that habit from Glastonbury. + +“Art thou grievously wounded, my son?” + +“I feel faint, even unto death, with loss of blood. Oh! remove me, and +bear me home; if thou art a man of God leave me not here to perish in +my sins.” + +The piteous appeal went to the heart of the monk, and he knelt down, +and by the aid of a small lamp, examined the wounds of the sufferer. + +“Thou mayst yet live, my son,” he said; “tell me where is thy home; is +it in Mercia?” + +“It is! it is! My home is Æscendune; it is not far from here.” + +“Æscendune—knowest thou Father Cuthbert?” + +“I do indeed; he was my tutor, once my spiritual father.” + +“Thy name?” + +“Elfric, son of the thane Ella.” + +The monk started, then raised a loud cry, which speedily brought two or +three men in the dress of thralls (theows) to his side. + +“She will murder no more, father; the dog overtook her, and held her +till we came; she was red with blood, and we knocked her down; Oswy +here brained her with his club.” + +“It is well—she deserved her fate; but, Oswy, look at this face.” + +“St. Wilfred preserve us!” cried the man “it is the young lord. He is +not dying, is he? She hadn’t hurt him—the she-wolf?” + +“No, we were just in time, and only just in time; we must carry him +home to his father.” + +The monk had started for the expected scene of battle, intent on doing +good, with a small party of the thralls of Æscendune, just after Edwy +had left the hall; consequently, he knew nothing of the death of the +thane or the subsequent events. Oh, how sweetly his words fell upon +Elfric’s ears, “Carry him home to his father.” + +A litter was speedily made; one of the thralls jumped into a willow +tree which overhung the stream, and cut down some of the stoutest +boughs. The others wove them with withes into a kind of litter, threw +their own upper garments thereon in their love, placed the poor wounded +form as tenderly upon it as a mother would have done, and bore him from +the field, ever and anon stopping to relieve some other poor wounded +sufferer, and to comfort him with the intelligence that similar aid was +at hand for all, as the various lights now appearing testified. + +For themselves, they felt all other obligation fade before their duty +to their young lord. He was object of their solicitude. + +So they bore him easily along, until they reached a stream; there they +paused and washed the heated brow, and allowed the parched lips to +imbibe, but only slightly, the pure fresh beverage, sweeter far than +the stimulant the good monk had poured down his throat on the field. +Then they arranged his dress—bound up his wounds, for the Benedictine +was an accomplished surgeon for the times; after which, having +satisfied himself that his patient was able to bear the transit, he +departed, with a cheerful benediction, to render the like aid to +others. + +So comforted was Elfric, and so relieved from pain, that he slept all +through the following hours, as they bore him along through woodland +paths; and he dreamt that he had met his father and was clasped +lovingly in his forgiving arms. + +At daybreak they were six or seven miles from the camp, and they +rested, for the continued effort had wearied the bearers. They made a +fire, cooked their breakfast, and tried to persuade Elfric to eat, +which he did, sparingly. + +Then they resumed their journey; they kept as much in the shade as +possible, for it was a bright day; rested again at noontide, with only +five or six miles before them; started when the heat was a little +overpast, and just after sunset came in sight of the halls of +Æscendune, from the opening in the forest whence Elfric had beheld them +that night when he first brought Prince Edwy home in company with his +brother Alfred. + +The wounded youth raised himself up, looked with intense affection at +the home of his youth, and sank back contented on his couch, thinking +only of father and mother, brother and sister, and the sweet +forgiveness he felt sure awaited him. Poor boy! + +It was almost dark when they reached the gate of the castle, and the +drawbridge was up. One of the bearers blew his horn loudly, and the +summons brought the warder to the little window over the postern gate. + +“Who are you, and what do you seek?” was the cry. + +“We are bringing my young lord, Elfric of Æscendune, home from the +battlefield wounded.” + +“Wait a while.” + +A few minutes passed; then the drawbridge was lowered, and the bearers +bore their burden into the courtyard. Every moment Elfric expected to +see the beloved faces bending over him; but all seemed strange, till he +remembered that Redwald had remained behind at the hall; the four +bearers spoke uneasily to one another, and Oswy disappeared in the +dusky twilight. + +At length three or four men, in the military costume so familiar to +Elfric, approached the litter; and raising him, bore him into the +interior of the building, up the stairs, into the gallery, which partly +ran round at the height of the first floor. The door of a room was +opened, a familiar room; it had been his father’s bedroom, and Elfric +was placed on the bed. + +“Ask them to come to me,” he said “father, mother, Alfred, +Edgitha!—where are they?” + +But minute after minute passed by, and no one came near; there was no +light in the room, and it was soon very dark. Elfric became very +uncomfortable; it was not the kind of reception he had promised +himself. + +“Why does not my father come,” he muttered impatiently, “to see his +wounded boy?” and he felt at one moment his pride revive, then a +sickening feeling of anxiety filled his heart. + +But it was not until an hour had passed that he heard a heavy step on +the stairs, and soon the door opened, and Redwald appeared. + +Elfric gazed upon him with surprise; especially when he noted the stern +cold look which sat on his features. As Redwald did not speak, Elfric +took the initiative. + +“Why is not my father here? I want to see him, Redwald; do send him to +me; say I must see him, I must—I cannot endure this longer; it is more +than I can bear.” + +“Calm yourself and listen to me, for I have a strange story to unfold +to you.” + +“Not now; some other time; do send them to me.” + +“It must be heard now; and perhaps when you have heard it, you will +comprehend why they do not come.” + +“But they will come?” + +“Elfric, there was, two generations back, a man who had two sons; he +was a noble thane of high descent, his eldest son was worthy of his +father, high souled, impetuous, brave, fiery, and in short, all a +warrior’s son should be: the younger son had the heart of a monk, and +was learned in all pious tricks; he stole the father’s heart from his +elder brother.” + +Elfric began to listen at this point. + +“At last, misjudgment and unkindness drove the elder brother from home, +and he sought food and shelter from men who had the souls of +conquerors. With them he lived, for his father disinherited him; he had +no father, he had no country.” + +Elfric began to draw his breath quickly. + +“At length war arose between those who had sheltered and protected him, +and the people who should have been his own people; say what side was +the exile to be found on?” + +“He should have fought with his own people.” + +“His own people were those who had really adopted him when his father +and family disowned him, and with them he fought for victory; but the +fates were unpropitious, the people with whom his father and brother +fought were successful; the son was taken prisoner, and adjudged to die +a traitor’s death, his own father and brother consenting.” + +Elfric began to comprehend all. + +“They put him on board an open boat, and sent him out to sea, at the +mercy of winds and waves; but not alone; he had married amongst the +people who had adopted him, and his boy would not forsake his sire, for +he had one boy—the mother was dead. This boy besought the hard-hearted +executioners of a tyrant’s will to let him share the fate of his sire, +so earnestly, that at last they consented.” + +“The boat, as it pleased fate, was driven by wind and tide on the shore +of Denmark, and there the unhappy exile landed; but he had been wounded +in the battle, and his subsequent exposure caused his early death; +before he died he bequeathed one legacy, and only one, to his son— + +“Vengeance.” + +Elfric was pale as death, and trembled visibly. + +“Then you are—” + +“Elfric, I am your cousin, and the deadly foe of you and yours!” + +“Then my poor father; but if you must find a victim seek it in me; +spare him! oh, spare him!” + +Redwald smiled; but such a smile. + +“At least let me see him now, and obtain his forgiveness. Redwald, he +is my father; you were faithful to your father; let me atone for my +unfaithfulness to mine.” + +“You believe there is another world, perhaps?” + +Elfric only answered by a look of piteous alarm. + +“Because, in that case, you must seek your father there; although I +fear Dunstan would say there is likely to be a gulf between you.” + +Elfric comprehended him, and with a cry which might have melted a heart +of stone, fell back upon the bed. For a moment he lay like one stunned, +then began to utter incoherent ravings, and gazed vacantly around, as +one who is delirious. + +Redwald seemed for one moment like a man contending with himself, like +one who felt pity struggling with sterner emotions; yet the contest was +very short. + +“It is of no use—he must die; if hearts break, I hope his will break, +and save me the task of shedding his blood, or causing it to be shed; +there must be no weakness now; he has been sadly wounded; if he is left +alone, he will die; better so—I would spare him if I were not bound by +an oath so dread that I shudder to think of it. The others have +escaped: he must die.” + +Still he walked to and fro, as if pity yet contended with the thirst +for vengeance in his hardened breast: perhaps it was his day of grace, +and the Spirit of Him, Who has said “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” +pleaded hard with the sinner. Yet the gentle Voice pleaded in vain; +still he walked to and fro, until his resolution seemed firmly made; +and he left the chamber, fastening it on the outside. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. +“UNDER WHICH KING?” + + +It will be remembered that one of the theows who had borne Elfric home +from the field of battle had become alarmed by the suspicious aspect of +things at the hall, and had escaped, by prompt evasion, the confinement +which awaited his companions. Oswy, for it was he, thus showed his +natural astuteness, while he also conferred the greatest possible +obligation upon Elfric, since he bore the news of his ill-timed arrival +at once to the priory. + +Here his worst suspicions were confirmed; and the faithful thrall heard +for the first time of the death of his late lord, and that he had given +his young master into the hands of his bitter foes. Alfred was at once +summoned; and a conference was held, in which Father Cuthbert, his +brethren, and the chamberlain and steward of the hall, took part. + +“It is now generally believed,” said Father Cuthbert, “that Redwald is +the bitter enemy, for some reason, of the house of Æscendune. Has any +one here suspected that reason?” + +No one could give any reply. + +“I fear what I am about to say,” he continued, “will startle you all. +Redwald is a member of the family himself.” + +“A member of the family!” + +“Yes. Is there any one present who remembers the unhappy brother of our +late lamented lord—Oswald, the son of Offa?” + +“Yes,” said the old chamberlain, “I remember him well; and I see now +what you mean.” + +“Is not the expression of the face identical? Are they not the same +features, as one might say?” + +“Yet Redwald is much darker.” + +“Because his mother was Danish, and he has inherited some of her +peculiarities, that is all.” + +“Still,” said the steward, “every one supposed that the unhappy Oswald +perished at sea with his son. Never shall I forget the grief of the old +thane Offa, when inquiring for the son, he learned that he had gone +with the father to his death. He would have adopted him.” + +“And do we not,” added a Benedictine, “say a mass daily at St. +Wilfred’s altar for the souls of Oswald and his son Ragnar?” + +“Oswald may be dead; Ragnar yet lives in Redwald. The name alone is +changed.” + +“But where are the proofs? We cannot wholly trust an imaginary +resemblance.” + +“It is not imaginary; and these are the proofs in question. The night +after the murder” (all looked at each other as if a sudden inspiration +struck them), “as I was going to the chapel from the lady Edith’s +apartments, I passed through a passage little used, but leading past +the chamber allotted to Redwald, and only separated by a thin +wainscoting. I was startled as I passed it by the sound of a pacing to +and fro; an incessant pacing; and I heard the inmate of the room +soliloquising with himself as in a state of frenzied feeling. I caught +only broken words but again and again I heard ‘Avenged;’ and once +‘Father you are avenged;’ and once ‘Little do they know who is their +guest;’ once ‘It is a good beginning,’ and such like ejaculations. I +remained a long time, because, as you will all see, the murderer stood +revealed.” + +“Then why did you not tell us before?” exclaimed all, almost in a +breath. + +“Because it would have been of no avail. Had there been the least +chance of calling him to account, I should, you may be sure, have +proclaimed his guilt. But early in the morning fresh forces began to +arrive to his aid. My only endeavour was to get the lady Edith and her +remaining children safe from the castle; and it was only by dissembling +my feelings, by talking face to face with the man of blood, by +pretending to trust him, that I could succeed. Had he not thought us +all perfectly satisfied, he would never have left the hall to go +foraging in person; and now all would be well, but for this sad, sad +chance, which has placed the poor lad Elfric in his power.” + +“But,” said Alfred, “this makes the case worse than ever. Poor Elfric! +they will kill him. Oh, can this be Ragnar?” + +The Benedictines expressed themselves convinced, because the +supposition explained the present circumstances so clearly, and +accounted for that hitherto unaccountable circumstance—the murder. The +steward and chamberlain both fancied they recognised the family +likeness; and so the solution at which Father Cuthbert had arrived was +accepted by all. + +The question was now what course to adopt, for the night was fast +wearing away. + +“Two things are to be done,” said Father Cuthbert. “The first is to +secure the safety of the lady Edith and her children from any sudden +attack from the castle, to which effect I propose holding all the +vassals in arms; and, in case of any force leaving the hall, I purpose +giving the lady Edith and her daughter instant sanctuary in the priory, +while the vassals gather round its precincts; for, I fear me, this +Ragnar is a heathen, and would but little respect the house of God.” + +“Could we not attack the hall and release Elfric? Think of Elfric,” +said Alfred. + +“It would be madness; Redwald has more than a hundred and fifty men of +war within it. The place is full; we could not attack with the least +chance of success. No: the second thing I meant to propose was this, +that we should send an instant message to King Edgar, who is near at +hand, and explain the whole circumstances to him. He has many causes of +enmity against Redwald, and would probably come to our aid at once, as +the safety of his realm would require him to do eventually.” + +“Let me be the messenger; he will surely listen to the pleadings of a +brother for a brother.” + +“I had so designed,” said Father Cuthbert; “and in order that no chance +may be thrown away, I will adventure myself in the lion’s den, and +threaten with the penalties of excommunication this vindictive Redwald +or Ragnar.” + +“No, father; you will never come out alive. No, no!” said they all. + +The last proposal was universally discouraged. Redwald had already +special cause of enmity against Father Cuthbert, who had robbed him of +part of his destined prey; and it was ultimately settled that Father +Swithin, another of the order, should be charged with the mission, with +the power to make conciliatory offers, or to act on the other course as +he should see fit; in short, to use all his wit for Elfric. + +Alfred did not delay a moment unnecessarily, but in the dawning light +set forward to seek Edgar, of whom he had no definite information, but +who was believed to linger in the neighbourhood of the battlefield, +holding council with earls and thanes as to the further steps to be +taken, and receiving the submission of the whole Mercian, East Anglian, +and Northumbrian nobility. + +Therefore, mounted upon a good steed, and accompanied by Oswy, he +rapidly traversed the country over which his brother had been so +painfully borne; slowly, however, in places, for here and there large +tracts of swamp obstructed the way, and in other places the thickets +were dense and impervious; even where the country was cultivated the +unpaved roads were rough and hazardous for riders. + +It was past the hour of nones, the ninth hour of the day, when the +riders reached the battlefield, which still bore frightful traces of +the recent combat; reddened with blood, which had left its dark traces +on large patches of the ground, and encumbered with the bodies of +horses and men which had not yet found sepulture, although bands of +theows from the neighbouring estates were busily engaged in the +necessary toil, excavating huge pits, and placing the dead—no longer +rivals—reverently and decently in their last long home. Several wolves +could be discerned, hanging about under the skirts of the forest, but +not daring to come out into the plain while the day lasted and the men +were about; whole flocks of ravenous birds flew about the scene, now +settling down on the spots where the strife had been hottest, now +soaring away when disturbed in their sickening feast. + +It was the first time Alfred had ever gazed upon a battlefield; and now +he saw it stripped of all the romance and glamour which bards had +thrown over it, and the sight appalled him. + +He drew near a large pit into which the thralls were casting the dead. +Many of the bodies presented, as we have already seen, a most ghastly +spectacle; and nearly all had begun to decompose. Mentally he thanked +God that Elfric, at least, was not there; and he turned aside his head +in horror at the sight. + +He now inquired of the foreman of the labourers whether he knew where +the Etheling Edgar would be. + +“You mean King Edgar, for the Mercians will acknowledge no other king. +The people of Wessex may keep the enemy of the saints, if they like.” + +“King Edgar, I mean. Where is he now?” + +“He has been holding a council at Tamworth town, in the old palace of +King Offa; and they say all the tributary kings have come there to be +his men, and all the great earls.” + +“Can you tell me the nearest road to Tamworth?” + +“Why, it lies through the forest there, where you see those wolves +lurking about. They will begin to be dangerous when the sun goes down, +and perhaps some of them would not mind a snap at a horse or even a +man, now.” + +“We must take our chance;” said Alfred: “life and death hang on our +speed,” and he and Oswy rode on. + +The wolves were no longer seen. In the summer they generally avoided +men, at least during the day, and they were gradually becoming more +uncommon at that date. Alfred entertained little fear as he proceeded, +until the darkening shadows showed that night was near, and they were +still in the heart of the forest, when he began to feel alarmed. The +road before them was a good wide woodland path, and easy to follow even +in the gathering darkness. + +Suddenly their horses started violently, as a loud howl was heard +behind, and repeated immediately from different quarters of the forest. + +Alfred felt that it was the gathering of the ferocious beasts, which +had been attracted from distant forests by the scent of the +battlefield, and had thus happened to lie in increased numbers around +their path. The howling continued to increase, and their horses sped +onward as if mad with fear—it was all they could do to guide them +safely. + +Nearer and nearer drew the fearful sound; and looking back they beheld +the fiery eyes swarming along the road after them. They had begun to +abandon hope, when all at once they heard the sound of advancing +horsemen in front of them, accompanied by the clank of arms. The wolves +heard it too, and with all the cunning cowardice of their race +scampered away from their intended prey, just as Alfred and Oswy +avoided impaling themselves upon the lances of the coming deliverers. + +“Whom have we here, riding at this pace through the woods?” cried out a +rough, manly voice. + +“The wolves were after the poor fellows,” said another. + +“They may speak for themselves,” said the leader, confronting Alfred. +“Art thou a Mercian and a friend of King Edgar? Under which king? +Speak, or die!” + +“I seek King Edgar. My name is Alfred, son of Ella of Æscendune.” + +“Who sheltered the men of Wessex, and entertained the impious Edwy in +his castle.” + +“We had no power to resist had we wished to do so.” + +“Which you evidently did not. May a plain soldier ask you now why you +seek King Edgar?” + +“Because,” said Alfred, “my father has been murdered, and my brother +made a prisoner by Redwald, the captain of King Edwy’s hus-carles, who +holds our house, and has driven us all out.” + +“Your father murdered! Your family expelled! Your brother a prisoner! +These are strange news.” + +“Why this delay!” cried another speaker, riding up from behind. “The +king is impatient to get on. Ride faster.” + +“The king!” cried Alfred. “Oh, lead me to him.” + +“Who is this,” demanded the second officer, “who demands speech of the +royal Edgar?” + +“Alfred of Æscendune. He tells us that the infamous Redwald holds the +fortified house there, has murdered the thane Ella, and expelled the +family, save the brother, whom he holds to ransom.” + +“No, not to ransom,” cried Alfred. “It is his life that is threatened. +Oh, take me to Edgar!” + +“He is close behind, in company with the Ealdorman of Mercia and Siward +of Northumbria.” + +“Stay behind with him, Biorn, and let us continue our route. You may +introduce him to the king, if he will see him.” + +The first party—the advance guard—now passed on, and was succeeded +almost immediately by the main body, foremost amongst whom rode Prince +or rather King Edgar, then only a youth of fifteen years of age. We +last beheld him a boy of twelve, at the date of Elfric’s arrival at the +court of Edred. By his side rode Siward, Ealdorman of Northumbria. + +“Who is this?” cried the latter, as he saw Alfred and his attendant +waiting to receive him. + +“Alfred of Æscendune, with a petition for aid against Redwald, who has +seized his father’s castle.” + +“Alfred of Æscendune!” cried Edgar. “Halt, my friends, one moment. +Alfred of Æscendune, tell me your story; to me, Edgar, your king.” + +Alfred hastened to pour his tale of sorrows into an ear evidently not +unsympathising, and when he had concluded Edgar asked —“And tell me +what is your request. It shall be granted even to the uttermost.” + +“Only that you, my lord, would hasten to our aid and deliver my brother +for his poor widowed mother’s sake.” + +“We should send a troop against Redwald in any case, but even had our +plans been otherwise, know this, Alfred of Æscendune, that he who by +his devoted service saved the life, or at least the liberty, of +Dunstan, the light of our realm of England, and the favourite of +heaven, has a claim to ask any favour Edgar can grant. + +“Siward, my father, bid the advanced guard bend its course towards +Æscendune at once.” + +“My lord, the men are too weary to travel all night. We had purposed +halting when we reached the battlefield on our march southward. There +is a cross-country road thence to Æscendune, almost impassable in the +night.” + +“Then we will travel early in the morning; and doubt not, Alfred, we +shall arrive in time to chastise this insolent aggressor. Redwald has +been my poor brother’s evil spirit in all things; he shall die, I swear +it,” said the precocious Edgar, a man before his time. + +“But, my lord,” said Alfred, “may I ask but one favour, that you will +permit me to proceed and relieve the anxiety of my people with the +tidings of your approach?” + +“If you must leave our side, such an errand would seem to justify you. +Poor Elfric! I remember him well. I could not have thought him in any +danger from Redwald.” + +“Redwald is his, is our bitterest foe.” + +“Indeed,” said Edgar, and proceeded to elicit the whole history of the +case from Alfred. + +The sad tale was not complete till they reached the battlefield, and +encamped in the entrenchments the young prince had occupied the night +before the combat. + +“We had intended,” said Edgar, “to march at once for London, owing to +news we have received from the south, but we will tarry at Æscendune +until the work is completed there, even if it cost us our crown. + +“Nay, Siward, I may have my way this once. I am soldier enough to know +I may not leave an enemy behind me on my march.” + +“But a small detachment might accomplish the work.” + +“Then I will go with it myself; my heart is in it. But, Alfred, you +look very ill; you cannot proceed tonight. When did you sleep last?” + +“Three nights ago.” + +“Then it would be madness to proceed; you must sleep, and at early dawn +you shall precede us on my own charger—which has been led all the +way—if your own is too wearied, and with an attendant or two in case of +danger from man or beast. Nay, it must be so.” + +Alfred, who could scarcely stand for very fatigue, was forced to yield, +and that night he slept soundly in the camp of Edgar. At the first dawn +they aroused him from sleep, and he found a splendid warhorse awaiting +him—a gift, they told him, from Edgar. Two attendants, well mounted, +awaited him in company with Oswy. He would willingly have dispensed +with their company; but he was told that the king, anxious for his +safety, had insisted upon their attending him, and that they were +answerable for his safe return to Æscendune, the country being +considered dangerous for travellers in its present disturbed state. + +So he yielded; and before the king had arisen he left the camp, after a +hasty meal, and rode as rapidly as the roads would permit towards his +desolated home. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. +LOVE STRONG AS DEATH. + + +Meanwhile Father Swithin had gone alone and unprotected, save by his +sacred character, into the very jaws of the lion; or rather, would have +gone, had he been suffered to do so; for when he approached the hall he +found the drawbridge up, and the whole place guarded as in a state of +siege. + +He advanced, nothing daunted, in front of the yawning gap where the +bridge should have been, and cried aloud—“What ho! porter; I demand +speech of my lord Redwald.” + +“You may demand speech—swine may demand pearls—but I don’t think you +will get it. Deliver me your message.” + +“Tell your lord, rude churl, that I, Father Swithin, of the holy Order +of St. Benedict, have come, in the name of the rightful owners of this +house, and in the power of the Church, to demand that he deliver up +Elfric of Æscendune to the safe keeping of his friends.” + +“I will send your message; but keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Sir +Monk, and don’t begin muttering any of your accursed Latin, or I will +see whether the Benedictine frock is proof against an arrow.” + +In a short time Redwald appeared on the roof, above the gateway. + +“What dost thou require, Sir Monk?” said he; “thy words sound strange +in my ears.” + +“I am come, false traitor,” said Father Swithin, waxing wroth, “to +demand the person of Elfric of Æscendune, whom thou detainest contrary +to God’s law and the king’s.” + +“Elfric of Æscendune! right glad am I to hear that he is alive; my +followers have brought me word that they saw him fall in battle.” + +“Nay, spare thy deceit, thou son of perdition, for well do we know that +he was brought home wounded last night. One of his bearers escaped thy +toils, even as a bird the snare of the fowler, and is now with us.” + +“Assuredly the loon has lied unto you. Rejoiced should I be to see the +unhappy youth, and to know that he yet lived. I but hold this place, +faithful to his lord and mine, Edwy, King of all England.” + +“Then why hast thou expelled the rightful dwellers therein from their +house and home? We know Elfric is with thee, and that thou art a +traitor, wherefore, deliver him up, or we will even excommunicate +thee.” + +“Thou hadst better not begin in the hearing of the men who sit upon the +wall; for myself, excommunication cannot hurt a man who never goes to +church, and does not company over much with those who do.” + +“Infidel! heretic! pagan! misbeliever! accursed Ragnar!” began the +irate monk, when an arrow, perhaps only meant to frighten him (for they +could hardly have missed so fair a mark), glanced by him. + +He retreated, but still continued his maledictions. + +“_Excommunicabo te, et omnes tibi adhærentes_; thou art an accursed +parricide, who hast raised thine hand against thy father’s house. _Vade +retro, Sathanas_, I will shake off the dust of my feet against +thee,”—another arrow stuck in his frock—“thou shalt share the fate of +Sodom, yea of Gomorrha; _in manus inimici trado te_;” by this time his +words were inaudible; and he departed, not having accomplished much +good, but having nevertheless informed Redwald of two great facts—the +first, that Elfric’s return was blazed abroad; the second, that his own +identity was more than suspected. + +“Ragnar!” said he, “What fiend has told them that? how came they to +suspect? Confusion! it will foil all my plans, and my vengeance will be +incomplete. At least this one victim must not escape, and yet I had +sooner he should escape than any other member of the house. Poor boy! +the sins of the fathers are heavy upon the children, as these +Christians have it; but my oath, my oath taken before a dying father! +no; he must die!” + +So spake the avenger of blood, a man whose heart was evidently not all +of iron; yet from childhood had he striven to restrain every tender +impulse, and had bound himself to vengeance. Long years of peace in +England had come between him and the execution of his projects, and he +had prepared himself for the task he never lost sight of, by acquiring +all the accomplishments of a knight and warrior, and even of a man of +letters, at that court of Rouen, now rapidly becoming the focus of +European chivalry, where the fierce barbarian Northmen were becoming +the refined but ruthless Normans. Then, in England, he had wormed +himself into the confidence of the future king with singular +astuteness, and at length had found the occasion he had long sought, in +a manner the most unforeseen save as a possible contingency. + +And now he turned from the battlements to his own chamber, but on the +way he paused, for he passed the door of the late thane’s room, where +poor Elfric lay. He passed the sentinel and entered. The unhappy boy +was extended on the bed, in a raging fever; ever and anon he called +piteously upon his father, then he cried out that Dunstan was pursuing +him, driving him into the pit, then he cried—“Father, I did not murder +thee; not I, thy son! nay, I always loved thee in my heart. Who is +laughing? it is not Dunstan; break his chamber open, slay him: is a +monk’s blood redder than a peasant’s? O Elgiva hast thou slain my +father? See, I am all on fire; it is thy doing. Edwy, my king, Dunstan +is burning me: save me!” + +Then there was a long pause, and Redwald or Ragnar as we may now call +him stood over his unhappy cousin. The fair head lay back on the +pillow, with its profusion of golden locks; the face was red and fiery, +the eyes weak and bloodshot. + +“Water! water! I burn!” he said. + +There was no cooling medicine to alleviate the burning throat, no +gentle hand to smooth the pillow, no mother to render the sweet offices +of maternal love, no father to whisper forgiveness to the dying boy. + +“Better he should die thus,” said Ragnar, “since I cannot spare him +without breaking my oath to the dead.” + +Then he left the room hastily, as if he feared his own resolution. The +sentinel looked imploringly at him, as the cries of the revellers came +from below. + +“Go!” said Ragnar, “join thy companions; no sentinel is required here. +Go and feast; I will come and join you.” + +So he tried to drown his new-born pity in wine. + +At a late hour of the day, Alfred and his attendants arrived, bringing +news of the coming succour to Father Cuthbert and the other friends who +awaited him with much anxiety. They had contrived to account for his +absence to the lady Edith, from whom they thought it necessary to hide +the true state of affairs. + +But everything tended to increase Alfred’s feverish anxiety about his +brother. The relieving force could not arrive for hours; meanwhile he +knew not what to do. No tidings were heard: Father Swithin had failed +and Elfric might perhaps even now be dead. + +So Alfred, taking counsel only of his own brave, loving heart, left the +priory in the dusk, attended by the faithful Oswy, and walked towards +his former home. The night was dark and cloudy, the moon had not yet +arisen, and they were close upon the hall ere they saw its form looming +though the darkness. Neither spoke, but they paused before the +drawbridge and listened. + +Sounds of uproarious mirth arose from within; Danish war songs, +shouting and cheering; the whole body of the invaders were evidently +feasting and revelling with that excess, of which in their leisure +moments they were so capable. + +“It is well!” said Alfred; and they walked round the exterior of the +moat, marking the brightly lighted hall and the unguarded look of the +place; yet not wholly unguarded, for they saw the figure of a man +outlined against a bright patch of sky, pacing the leaded roof, +evidently on guard. + +And now they had reached that portion of their circuit which led them +opposite the chamber window of the lamented Ella, and Alfred gazed +sadly upon it, when both he and Oswy started as they heard cries and +moans, and sometimes articulate words, proceeding therefrom. + +They listened eagerly, and caught the name “Dunstan,” as if uttered in +vehement fear, then the cry. “Water! I burn!” and cry after cry, as if +from one in delirium. + +“It is Elfric! it is Elfric!” said Alfred. + +“It is my young lord’s voice,” said the thrall; “he is in a fever from +his wound.” + +“What can we do?” and Alfred walked impatiently to and fro; at last he +stopped. + +“Oswy! if it costs me my life I will enter the castle!” + +“It shall cost my life too, then. I will live and die with my lord!” + +“Come here, Oswy; they do not know the little postern door hidden +behind those bushes; the passage leads up to the chapel, and to the +gallery leading to my father’s chamber, where Elfric lies dying. I +remember that that door was left unlocked, and perhaps I can save him. +They are all feasting like hogs; they will not know, and if Ragnar meet +me, why, he or I must die;” and he put his hand convulsively upon the +sword which was dependent from his girdle. + +“Lead on, my lord; you will find your thrall ready to live or die with +you!” said Oswy. + +At the extreme angle of the building there was a large quantity of +holly bushes which grew out of the soil between the moat and the wall, +which itself was clothed with the thickest ivy; the roof above was +slanting—an ordinary timber roof covering the chapel —so that no +sentinel could be overhead. Standing on the further side of the moat, +all this and no more could be observed. + +The first difficulty was how to cross the moat in the absence of either +bridge or boat. It was true they might swim over; but in the event of +their succeeding in the rescue of Elfric, how were they to bear him +back? The difficulty had to be overcome, and they reflected a moment. + +“There is a small boat down at the ferry,” whispered Oswy. + +It was all Alfred needed, and he and Oswy at once started for the +river. They returned in a few minutes, bearing a light boat, almost +like a British coracle, on which they instantly embarked, and a push or +two with the pole sent them noiselessly across the moat. + +They landed, made fast the boat, and searched in the darkness for the +door; it was an old portal, almost disused, for it was only built that +there might be a retreat in any such pressing emergency as might easily +arise in those unsettled times; the holly bushes in front, and the +thick branches of dependent ivy, concealed its existence from any +person beyond the moat, and it had not even been seen by the watchful +eye of Ragnar. + +Alfred, however, had but recently made use of the door, when seeking +bunches of holly wherewith to deck the board on the occasion of the +feast given to King Edwy, and he had omitted to relock it on his +return, an omission which now seemed to him of providential +arrangement. + +He had, therefore, only to turn the rusty latch as noiselessly as might +be, and the door slowly opened. The key was in the lock, on the inside. + +Entering cautiously, taking off their heavy shoes and leaving them in +the doorway, they ascended a flight of steps which terminated in front +of a door which entered the chapel underneath the bell cot, while +another flight led upwards to the gallery, from which all the principal +chambers on the first floor opened. + +Arriving at this upper floor, Alfred listened intently for one moment, +and hearing only the sounds of revelry from beneath, he opened the door +gently, and saw the passage lie vacant before him. + +He passed along it until he came to the door of his father’s chamber, +feeling the whole time that his life hung on a mere thread, upon the +chance that Ragnar and his warriors might remain out of the way, and +that no one might be near to raise the alarm. With nearly two hundred +inmates this was but a poor chance, but Alfred could dare all for his +brother. He committed himself, therefore, to God’s protection, and went +firmly on till he reached the door. + +He opened it with trembling eagerness, and the whole scene as we have +already described it was before him. Elfric sat up in the bed, uttering +the cries which had pierced the outer air. When Alfred entered he did +not seem to know him, but saluted him as “Dunstan.” His cries had +become too familiar to the present inmates of the hall for this to +attract attention. Alfred closed the door. + +“It is I, Elfric!—I, your brother Alfred!” + +Elfric stared vacantly, then fell back on the pillow: a moment only +passed, and then it was evident that an interval of silence had begun, +during which the patient only moaned. The noise from those who were +feasting in the hall beneath, which communicated with the gallery by a +large staircase, was loud and boisterous as ever. + +A step was heard approaching. + +Alfred took Oswy by the arm, and they both retired behind the tapestry, +which concealed a small recess, where garments were usually suspended. + +The heavy step entered the room, and its owner was evidently standing +beside the bed gazing upon the couch. There he remained stationary for +some minutes, and again left the room. It was not till the last sound +had died away that Alfred and Oswy ventured to leave their concealment. + +The silence still continued, save that it was sometimes broken by the +patient’s moans. + +“Take and wrap these clothes round him; we must preserve him from the +night air;” and they wrapped the blankets around him; then Oswy, who +was very strongly built, took the light frame of Elfric in his arms, +and they left the room. + +One moment of dread suspense—the passage was clear—a minute more would +have placed them in safety, when the paroxysm returned upon the +unfortunate Elfric. + +“Help, Edwy! Redwald, help! Dunstan has seized me, and is bearing me to +the fire! I burn! help, I burn!” + +Alfred groaned in his agony; the shrieking voice had been uttered just +as they passed the staircase leading down to the hall. Up rushed +Ragnar, followed by several of his men, and started back in amazement +as he beheld Alfred and Oswy with their burden. Alfred drew his sword +to dispute the passage, but was overpowered in a moment. Ragnar himself +attacked Oswy, who was forced to relinquish his burden. All was lost. + +Another moment and Ragnar confronted his prisoners. Elfric had been +carried back to his bed. Alfred and Oswy stood before him, their arms +bound behind them, in the great hall, while the soldiers retired at a +signal a short distance from them. + +“What has brought you here?” + +“To deliver my brother.” + +“To share his fate, you mean. Know you into whose hands you have +fallen?” + +“Yes; into those of my cousin Ragnar.” + +“Then you know what mercy to expect.” + +“I came prepared to share my brother’s fate.” + +“And you shall share it. It must be the hand of fate which has placed +you both in my power, me, the representative of the rightful lord of +Æscendune, dispossessed by your father, and being myself the legitimate +heir.” + +“We do not dispute your title; give my brother his life and liberty, +and take all; we have never injured you.” + +“All would be nothing without vengeance; you appeal in vain to me. Did +I wish to spare you I could not; an oath, a fearful oath, binds me, +taken to one from whom I derived life, one whose death was far more +agonising and lingering than yours shall be.” + +“Let us at least die together.” + +“Do you scorn the company of your thrall in death?” + +“God forbid! + +“Oswy, you have given your life for us; we die in company. God protect +my poor mother, my poor childless mother! She will be alone!” + +“You shall die together as you desire.” + +He addressed a few words in an unknown tongue to his men; his face was +now pale as death, his lips compressed as of one who has taken a +desperate resolution. + +“Retire to your brother’s chamber again. You will not compel me to use +force?” + +They retired up the stairs; Ragnar followed, two or three of his men at +a respectful distance from him. + +They re-entered the chamber; Ragnar followed and stood before them. + +“I will grant you all that is in my power; you shall all die together, +and you may tend your brother to the last.” + +“What shall be the manner of our death?” asked Alfred, who was very +calm, fearfully calm. + +“You will soon discover; my hand shall not be upon you, or red with +your blood. Believe me, I am, like you, the victim of stern necessity, +although I am the avenger, you the victims.” + +“You cannot thus deceive yourself, or shake off the guilt of murder; +our father’s blood is upon you. You will answer for this, for him and +for us, at the judgment seat.” + +“I am willing to do so, if there be a judgment seat whereat to answer. +I had a father, too, who was condemned to a lingering death, by thirst, +hunger, and madness; I witnessed his agonies; I swore to avenge them. +You appeal to the memory of your father, who has perished a victim to +avenging justice; I appeal to that of mine. If there be a God, let Him +deliver you, and perhaps I will believe in Him. Farewell for ever!” + +He closed the door, and, with the aid of his men, securely fastened it +on the outside, so that no strength from within could open it; he +descended to the hall. + +“Warriors,” he said, “the moment I predicted has come; I have received +a warning that the usurper Edgar already marches against us; tomorrow, +at the latest, he will be here; before he arrives we shall be halfway +to Wessex. Let every one secure his baggage and his plunder, and let +the horses be all got ready for a forced march. We have eaten the last +feast that shall ever be eaten in these halls.” + +A few moments of bustle and confusion followed, and before half-an-hour +had expired all was ready, and the men-at-arms from without announced +that every horse—their own and those of the thane, to carry their +booty, the plunder of the castle—awaited them without. + +“Then,” said he, “listen, my men, to the final orders. _Fire the +castle, every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, the +outbuildings._ We will leave a pile of blackened embers for Edgar when +he comes; the halls where the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be +his, or entertain him as a guest.” + +A loud shout signified the alacrity with which his followers bent +themselves to the task; torches flashed in all directions, and in a few +moments the flames began to do their destroying work. + +An officer addressed Ragnar—“There are three thralls locked up in an +outbuilding, shall we leave them to burn?” + +“Nay; why should we grudge them their miserable lives; they have done +us no harm.” + +At that moment a loud cry of dire alarm was heard, the trampling of an +immense body of horse followed—a rush into the hall already filled with +smoke—loud outcries and shrieks from without. + +“What is the matter?” cried Ragnar. + +“The Mercians are upon us! the Mercians are upon us!” + +Ragnar rushed to the gateway, and a sight met his startled eyes he was +little prepared to behold. + +The clouds had been driven away by a fierce wind, the moon was shining +brightly, and revealed a mighty host surrounding the hall on every +side. Every horse before the gateway was driven away or seized, every +man who had not saved himself by instant retreat had been slain by the +advancing host; without orders the majority of his men had repassed the +moat, and had already raised the drawbridge against the foe, not +without the greatest difficulty. + +“Extinguish the fires which you have raised; let each man fight +fire—then we will fight the Mercians.” + +It was high time to fight fire, rather it was too late. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. +“VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY.” + + +When the door was finally closed upon the brothers and their faithful +thrall, Alfred did not give way to despair. The words of Ragnar, “If +there be a God, let Him deliver you,” had sunk deeply into his heart, +and had produced precisely the opposite effect to that which his cousin +had intended; it seemed as if his cause were thus committed to the +great Being in Whose Hand was the disposal of all things; as if His +Honour were at stake, Whom the murderer had so impiously defied. + +“‘If there be a God, let Him deliver you,’” repeated Alfred, and it +seemed to him as if a Voice replied, “Is My Arm shortened, that It +cannot save?” + +But how salvation was to come, and even in what mode danger was to be +expected, was unknown to them; nay, was even unguessed. They heard the +bustle below, which followed Ragnar’s announcement of his intended +departure from Æscendune. They heard the mustering of the horses—and at +last the conviction forced itself upon them that the foe were about to +evacuate the hall. But in that case, how would he inflict his sentence +upon his victims? + +The dread truth, the suspicion of his real intention, crept upon the +minds of both Alfred and Oswy. Elfric yet lay insensible, or seemingly +so, upon the bed, lost to all perception of his danger. Alfred sat at +the head of the bed, looking with brotherly love at the prostrate form +of him for whom he was giving his life; but feeling secretly grateful +that there was no painful struggle imminent in his case; that death +itself would come unperceived, without torturing forebodings. + +It was at this moment that Oswy, who stood by the window, which was +strongly barred, but which he had opened, for the night was +oppressively warm, caught the faint and distant sound of a mighty host +advancing through the forest; at first it was very faint, and he only +heard it through the pauses in the storm of sound which attended +Ragnar’s preparations for departure, but it soon became more distinct, +and he turned to Alfred. + +“Listen, my lord, they come to our aid; listen, I hear the army of +Edgar.” + +Alfred rushed to the window, the hope of life strong within him; at +first he could hear nothing for the noise below, but at length there +was a lull in the confusion, and then he heard distinctly the sound of +the coming deliverers. Another minute, and he saw the dark lines +leaving the shadow of the forest, and descending the hill in serried +array, then deploying, as if to surround a foe in stealthy silence; he +looked around for the object, and beheld Ragnar’s forces all +unconscious of their danger, not having heard the approach in their own +hasty preparations for departure. Another moment of dread suspense, +like that with which the gazer watches the dark thundercloud before the +lightning’s flash. A moment of dread silence—during which some orders, +given loudly below, forced themselves upon him: + +“Fire the castle, every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, the +outbuildings; we will leave a pile of blackened ruins for Edgar when he +comes; the halls where the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be +his, or entertain him as guest.” + +Meanwhile, the dark forces, unseen by the destroyers, were still +surrounding the castle, deploying on all sides to surround it as in a +net; for they saw the intention of their victims, and meant to cut off +all chance of escape. + +But the position of the brothers seemed as perilous as ever—for how +could Edgar’s troops rescue them if the place were once on fire? Alfred +gazed with pallid face upon Oswy, but met only a resigned helpless +glance in return. + +Yet, even at this moment of awful suspense, a voice seemed to whisper +in his ear, “Stand still, and see the salvation of God.” + +“Oswy,” he exclaimed, “we shall not die—I feel sure that God will save +us!” + +“It must be soon then,” replied Oswy; “soon, my lord, for they have +already set the place on fire, just beneath us; can you not smell the +smoke?” + +Just at that moment came the war cry of the Mercians, and the charge we +have already described. + +It was during the following few minutes, while Ragnar and all his men +were vainly striving to extinguish the conflagration they had +raised—for the dry timber of which the hall was chiefly built had taken +fire like matchwood—it was while the friends without were preparing to +attack, that a sudden change came over the patient. + +“Alfred, my brother!” + +Alfred looked round in surprise; consciousness had returned, and the +face was calm and possessed as his own. + +“Elfric, my dear Elfric!” + +“What does all this mean? How came I here? What makes this smoke?” + +“We are in danger, great danger; prisoners in our own house, which they +have set on fire.” + +“I remember now—is not this our dear father’s room?” + +“Yes; we are prisoners in it, they have barred the door upon us.” + +“But they cannot bar us in: there is another door, Alfred; one my +father once pointed out to me, but told me to keep its existence a +secret, as it always had been kept. Who are without?” + +“The Mercians, Edgar’s army, come to deliver us; if we can reach them, +we are safe.” + +“I thought they were our foes, but all seems strange now. Alfred, lift +up the tapestry which conceals the recess where dear father’s armour +hung.” + +Alfred complied. + +“Now, just where the breastplate hung you will find a round knob of +wood like a peg.” + +“Yes, it is here.” + +“Push it hard—no, harder.” + +Alfred did so, and a concealed door flew open; he stepped through it +with a cry of joy, and found himself on the staircase leading up from +the postern gate by which he had entered, just below the closed door +which led into the gallery above. + +“God be thanked! we are saved—saved. Elfric! + +“Oswy, take him in your arms, quick! quick! I lead the way, and will +get the boat ready—door open and boat ready.” + +It was all the work of a moment; they were on the private staircase, +carrying Elfric, carefully wrapt up. The smoke had entered even here; +the next moment they were at the entrance. Happily the whole attention +of Ragnar was concentrated on self preservation. + +One more minute, and Elfric was placed in the coracle. The Mercians on +the further bank now observed them, and at first, not knowing them, +seemed disposed to treat them as foes; when Oswy cried aloud, “Spare +your arrows; it is Elfric of Æscendune;” and they crowded to the bank +joyfully, for the purpose of the attack was known to all, and now they +saw its object placed beyond the reach of further risk of failure. + +The coracle touched the further bank; a dozen willing hands assisted +them up the slope. And amidst shouts of vociferous joy and triumph they +were conducted to King Edgar, who hastened towards the scene with +Siward. + +“Now, let the castle burn, let it burn,” said Oswy. + +“Alfred, is it you?” exclaimed the young king; “just escaped from the +flames! How came you there? and this is Elfric; you have saved him.” + +“God has delivered us.” + +“But you have been the instrument; you must tell me all another time, +get him into shelter quickly. + +“Here, men, bear him to the priory, while we stay to do our duty here. + +“Alfred, you must not linger.” + +“One favour, my lord and king; show mercy to Ragnar, to Redwald, you +know not how sad his story has been.” + +“Leave that to me; he shall have all he deserves;” and Alfred was +forced to be content. + +At this moment, aroused by the shouts of joy, Ragnar, forgetting even +his danger, rushed to the roof. There he saw a crowd surrounding some +object of their joy; in the darkness of the night he could not +distinguish more, but the cry, “Long live Alfred of Æscendune!” arose +spontaneously from the crowd, just as the brothers departed. Faint with +toil as he was, his heart beating wildly with apprehension, he rushed +to the chamber through smoke and flame, for the tongues of fire were +already licking the staircase. He withdrew the bars, he rushed in, the +room was empty. + +“It is magic, sorcery, witchcraft,” he groaned. + +But the remembrance of his last words, of his scornful defiance of God, +came back to him, and with it a conviction that he had indeed lifted up +his arm against the Holy One. He felt a sickening feeling of horror and +despair rush upon him, when loud cries calling him from beneath aroused +him. + +“We must charge through them; we cannot burn here; we must die fighting +sword in hand, it is all that is left.” + +Not one voice spoke of surrender amongst those fierce warriors, or of +seeking mercy. + +It was indeed high time, for all efforts to extinguish the flames had +proved vain; every part of the castle was on fire; the fiery element +streamed from the lower windows, and curled upwards around the towers; +it crackled and hissed in its fury, and the atmosphere became unfit to +breathe; it was like inhaling flame. Sparks flew about in all +directions, dense stifling smoke filled every room. Not a man remained +in the hall, when Redwald rushed down the gallery, holding his breath, +for the hot air scorched the lungs; when, just as he arrived, the +staircase fell with a huge crash, and the flames shot up in his face, +igniting hair and beard, and scorching his flesh. He rushed back to the +opposite end of the passage, only to meet another blast of fire and +smoke—for they had ignited the hall in twenty places at once; they had +done their work all too well. He rushed to the room he had left, shut +the door for a moment’s respite from flame and smoke, and then, +springing at the window, strove to tear the bars down, but all in vain. + +“There must be some egress. How did they escape? How could they +escape?” he cried; and he sought in vain for the exit, for they had +closed the door again, and he knew not where to look; in vain he lifted +the tapestry, he could not discover the secret; and at last, +overpowered by the heat, he sprang again to the window, and drank in +deep draughts of fresh cool air to appease the burning feeling in his +throat. + +Crash! crash! part of the roof had given way, and the whole chamber +trembled; then a single tongue of flame shot up through the floor, then +another; the door had caught outside. Even in that moment he beheld his +men, his faithful followers, madly seeking death from the swords of the +foe; they had lowered the drawbridge, and dashed out without a leader. + +“Would I were with them!” he cried. “Oh, to die like this!” + +“Behold,” cried a voice without, “he hath digged and graven a pit, and +is fallen himself into the destruction he made for others.” + +It was Father Swithin, who had observed the face at the window, and who +raised the cry which now drew all the enemy to gaze upon him, for they +had no longer a foe to destroy. + +The flames now filled the room, but still he clung to the window, and +thus protracted his torments; his foes, even the stern monk, could but +pity him now, so marred and blackened was his visage, so agonised his +lineaments; like, as they said, the rude pictures of the lost, where +the last judgment was painted on the walls of the churches. Yet he +uttered no cry, he had resolved to die bravely; all was lost now. +Another moment, and those who watched saw the huge beams which +supported the building bend and quiver; then the whole framework +collapsed, and with a sound like thunder the roof tumbled in, and the +unhappy Ragnar was buried in the ruin; while the flames from his +funeral pyre rose to the very heavens, and the smoke blotted the stars +from view. + +“Even so,” said the monk, solemnly, “let Thine enemies perish, O Lord, +but let them that love Thee be as the sun, when he goeth forth in his +might.” + +But those were not wanting who could not sympathise with the stern +sentiment, remembering better and gentler lessons from the lips of the +great Teacher and Master of souls. + +“He has passed into the Hands of his God, there let us leave him,” said +Father Cuthbert, who had just arrived at the moment. “It is not for us +to judge a soul which has passed to the judgment seat, and is beyond +the sentence of men.” + +Meanwhile, they had borne Elfric first to the priory, for they judged +it not well that he should yet be brought to his mother; they feared +the sudden shock. Many of the good monks had studied medicine, for they +were in fact the healers both of soul and body throughout the district, +and they attended him with assiduous care. They put him to bed, they +gave him cordials which soon produced quiet sleep, and watched by him +for many hours. + +It was not till the day had far advanced that he awoke, greatly +refreshed, and saw Father Cuthbert and Alfred standing by him. They had +allayed the fever, bound up the wound, which was not in itself +dangerous, and he looked more like himself than one could have imagined +possible. + +And now they thought they might venture to summon the lady Edith; and +Alfred broke the intelligence to her, for she knew not the events of +the night. + +“Mother,” he said; “we have news of Elfric, both bad and good, to tell +you.” + +“He lives then,” she said; “he lives!” + +“Yes, lives, and is near; but he was wounded badly in the battle.” + +“I must go to him,” she said, and arose, forgetting all possible +obstacles in a mother’s love. + +“He is near at hand, in the priory; you will find him much changed, but +they say he will do well.” + +She shook like an aspen leaf, and threw her garments around her with +nervous earnestness. + +“Come, mother, take my arm.” + +“O Alfred, may I not come, too?” said little Edgitha. + +“Yes, you may come too;” and they left the house. + +Elfric heard them approach, and sat up in his bed, Father Cuthbert +supporting him with his arm; while another visitor, Edgar himself, +stood at the head of the bed, but retired to give place to the mother, +as if he felt no stranger could then intrude, when the widow clasped +her prodigal to her loving breast. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. +SOW THE WIND, AND REAP THE WHIRLWIND. + + +When Alfred rebuilt the city of Winchester, after it had been burned by +the Danes, he erected a royal palace, which became a favourite retreat +of his successors. + +Here the unhappy Edwy retired after his defeat, to find consolation in +the company of Elgiva. Indeed he needed it. Northumbria had followed +the example of Mercia, and acknowledged Edgar, and he had no dominions +left north of the Thames, while it was rumoured that worse news might +follow. + +In an inner chamber of the palace, and remote from intrusion, sat the +king and his chosen advisers. It was early in the year 958, a spring +day when the sun shone brightly and all things spoke of the coming +summer—the songs of the birds, the opening buds, the blossoming +orchards. + +But peace was banished from those who sat in that council chamber. Edwy +was strangely disturbed, his face was flushed, and he bore evidence of +the most violent agitation. + +“It must come to that at last, my king,” exclaimed Cynewulf, “or Wessex +will follow the example of Mercia.” + +“Better lose my crown then and become a subject, with a subject’s +liberty to love.” + +“A subject could never marry within the prohibited degree,” said a +grey-headed counsellor. + +“We have messengers from all parts of Wessex, from Kent, from Essex, +from Sussex, and they all unite in their demand that you should submit +to the Church, and put away (forgive me for repeating their words) your +concubine.” + +“Concubine!” said Edwy, and his cheek flushed, “she is my wife and your +queen.” + +“Pardon me, my liege, I did not make the word my own.” + +“You should not have dared to repeat it.” + +“If I dare, my lord, it is for your sake, and for our country, which is +dear to us all. Not an Englishman will acknowledge that your connection +is lawful; from Exeter to Canterbury the cry is the same—‘Let him +renounce Elgiva, and we will obey him; but we will not serve a king who +does not obey the voice of the Church or the laws of the land.’” + +“Laws of the land! The king is above the laws.” + +“Nay, my lord, he is bound to set the first example of obedience, chief +in that as in all things; an example to his people. Remember, my lord, +your coronation oath taken at Kingston three years ago.” + +Edwy flushed. “Is this a subject’s language?” + +“It is the language of one who loves his king too well to flatter him.” + +At this moment an usher of the court knocked at the door, and obtaining +permission to enter, stated that Archbishop Odo had arrived, and +demanded admission to the council. + +“I will not see him,” said the king. + +“My liege,” exclaimed Athelwold, the old grey-headed counsellor we have +mentioned, “permit one who loves you, as he loved your revered father, +to entreat you to cease from this hopeless resistance. If you refuse to +see him you are no longer a king.” + +“Then I will gladly abdicate.” + +“And become the scorn of Dunstan, and receive a retiring pension from +Edgar, and put your hand between his, kneeling humbly and saying ‘I am +your man.’” + +“No, no. Anything rather than that. Death first.” + +“All this may be averted with timely submission. Elgiva herself would +not counsel you to sacrifice all for her.” + +“O Athelwold, my father, the only one of my father’s counsellors who +has been faithful to his firstborn, what can I do? She is dearer to me +than life.” + +“But not than honour. You have both erred, both disobeyed the law of +the Church, both forgotten the example due from those in high places.” + +“Tell Odo to enter,” exclaimed Edwy. + +The archbishop was close at hand, patiently awaiting the answer to his +demand, yet determined, in case of a refusal, to take his pastoral +staff in his hand and enter the council room, announced or not. A more +determined priest had never occupied the primacy, yet he was benevolent +as determined, and, as we have mentioned, was known as Odo the Good +amongst the poor. Stern and unyielding to the vices of the rich, he was +gentle as a parent to the repentant sinner. + +He had pronounced, as we have seen, the lesser excommunication,xxxi in +consequence of Edwy’s refusal to put away Elgiva, immediately after the +coronation; since which the guilty pair had never communicated at the +altar, or even attended mass. Their lives had been practically +irreligious, nay idolatrous, for they had been gods to each other. + +And now, in the full pomp of the archiepiscopal attire, with the mitre +of St. Augustine on his head and the crozier in his hand, Odo advanced, +like one who felt his divine mission, to the centre of the room. His +cross bearer and other attendants remained in the antechamber. + +“What dost thou seek, rude priest?” said Edwy. + +“I am come in the Name of Him Whose laws thou hast broken, and speak to +thee as the Baptist to Herod. Put away this woman, for it is not lawful +for thee to have her.” + +“And would I could reply to thee as the holy fox Dunstan once informed +me Herod replied to the insolent Baptist, and send thine head on a +charger to Elgiva.” + +“My lord! my liege! my king! Remember his sacred office,” remonstrated +the counsellors. + +“Peace, my lords. His threats or his blandishments would alike fail to +move me. The blood of Englishmen slain in civil war—if indeed any are +found to fight for an excommunicate king—is that which I seek to avert. + +“In the Name of my Master, Whom thou hast defied, O king, I offer thee +thy choice. Thou must put away thy concubine, or thou shalt sustain the +greater excommunication, when it will become unlawful for Christian +people even to speak with thee, or wish thee God speed, lest they be +partakers of thy evil deeds.” + +“My lord, you must yield,” whispered Cynewulf. + +“Son of the noble Edmund, thou must save thy father’s name from +disgrace.” + +“I cannot, will not, do Elgiva this foul wrong. I tell thee, priest, +that if thy benediction has never been pronounced upon our union, we +are man and wife before heaven.” + +“I await your answer,” said Odo. “Am I to understand you choose the +fearful penalty of excommunication?” + +“Nay! nay! he does not; he cannot,” cried the counsellors. “Your +holiness!—father!—in the king’s name we yield!” + +“You are all cowards and traitors! Let him do what he will, I cannot +yield.” + +“Then, my lord king, I must proceed,” said Odo. “You have not only +acted wickedly in this matter, but you have misgoverned the people +committed to your charge, and broken every clause of your coronation +oath. First, you have not given the Church of God peace, or preserved +her from molestation, but have yourself ravaged her lands, and even +slain her servants with the sword; one, specially honoured of God, you +sought to slay, sending that wicked man, who has been called by fire to +his judgment, to execute your impious will.” + +“That holy fox Dunstan! Would Redwald had slain him!” muttered Edwy. + +“Secondly,” continued Odo, not heeding the interruption, “so far from +preventing thefts and fraud in all manner of men, you have maintained +notorious oppressors amongst your officers, and in your own person you +have broken the oath; for did you not even rob your aged grandmother, +and consume her substance in riotous living?” + +“What could the old woman do with it all?” + +“Thirdly, you have not maintained justice in your judicial proceedings, +but have spent all your time, like Rehoboam of old, with the young and +giddy, and in chastising your people with scorpions.” + +“Would I had a scorpion to chastise you! This is unbearable. + +“My lords and counsellors, have you not a word to say for me?” + +“Alas!” said Athelwold, “it is all too true; but give up Elgiva now, +and all will be well!” + +“It will be at least the beginning of reformation,” said Odo. + +“And the end, I suppose,” said Edwy, “will be that I shall shave my +head like a monk, banquet sumptuously upon herbs and water, spend +three-fourths of the day singing psalms through my nose, wear a hair +shirt, look as starved as a weasel, and at last, after sundry combats +with the devil, pinch his nose, and go off to heaven in all the odour +of sanctity. Go and preach all this to Edgar; I am not fool enough to +listen to it. You have got him to be your obedient slave and vassal; +you have bought him, body and soul, and the price has been Mercia, and +now you want to add Wessex. Well, I wish you joy of him, and him of you +all; for my part, if I could do it, I would restore the worship of Odin +and Thor, and offer you priests as bloody sacrifices to him: I would!” + +“Peace, my lord and king! peace! this is horrible,” said Athelwold. + +“Horrible!” said another. “He is possessed. My lord Odo, you had better +exorcise him.” + +But Edwy had given way—he was young—and burst into a passionate fit of +weeping, his royal dignity all forgotten. + +“Give him time! give him time, father!” said they all. + +“One day; he must then submit, or I must do my duty; I have no +choice—none,” replied the archbishop. + +And the council sadly broke up; but Athelwold sought a private +interview with Elgiva. + +It was the evening of the same day, and the fair Elgiva sat alone in +her apartment, into which the westering sun was casting his last beams +of liquid light; tears had stained her cheeks and reddened her eyes, +but she looked beautiful as ever, like the poet’s or painter’s +conception of the goddess of love. Around her were numerous evidences +of a woman’s delicate tastes, of tastes too in advance of her day. The +harp, which Edwy had given her the day of their inauspicious union, +stood in one corner of the apartment; richly ornamented manuscripts lay +scattered about—not, as usual, legends of the saints, and breviaries, +but the writings of the heathen poets, especially those who sang most +of love: for she was learned in such lore. + +At last the well-known step was heard approaching, and her heart beat +violently. Edwy entered, his face bearing the traces of his mental +struggle; he threw himself down upon a couch, and did not speak for +some few moments. She arose and stood beside him. + +“Edwy, my lord, you are ill at ease.” + +“I am indeed, Elgiva; oh! if you knew what I have had to endure this +day!” + +“I know it all, my Edwy; you cannot sacrifice your Elgiva, but she can +sacrifice herself.” + +“Elgiva! what do you mean?” + +“You have to choose between your country and your wife; she has made +the choice for you.” + +Here she strove violently to repress her emotion. + +“Elgiva! you shall never go—never, never—it will break my heart.” + +“It will break mine; but better hearts should break than that civil war +should desolate our country, or that you should be dethroned.” + +“No more of this, Elgiva; you shall not go, I swear it! come weal or +woe. Are we not man and wife? Have we not ever been faithful to each +other?” + +“But this dreadful Church, my Edwy, which crushes men’s affections and +rules their intellects with a giant’s strength more fearful than the +fabled hammer of Thor. It crushed the sweet mythology of old, with all +that ministered to love, and substituted the shaveling, the nun, the +monk; it has no sympathy with poor hearts like ours; it is remorseless, +as though it never knew pity or fear. You must yield, my Edwy! we must +yield!” + +“I cannot,” he said; “we will fly the throne together.” + +“But where would you go? this Church is everywhere; who would receive +an excommunicate man?” + +“I cannot help it, Elgiva; say no more, it maddens me. Talk of our +early days, before this dark shadow fell upon us.” + +She took up her harp, as if, like David, she could thereby soothe the +perturbed spirit; but its sweet sounds woke no answer in his breast, +and so the night came upon them—night upon the earth, night upon their +souls. + +Early in the morning she rose, strong in a woman’s affection, while +Edwy yet slept, and hastily arrayed herself; she looked around at her +poor household gods, at the harp, at the many tokens of his love. + +“It is for him!” she said. She imprinted her last kiss on his sleeping +forehead, she gazed upon him with fond, fond love; love had been her +all, her heaven: and then she opened the door noiselessly. + +Athelwold waited without. + +“Well done, noble girl!” he said; “thou keepest thy word right +faithfully.” + +She strove to speak, but could not; her pale bloodless lips would not +frame the words. Silently they descended the stairs; the dawn reddened +the sky; a horse with a lady’s equipments waited without, and a guide. + +The old thane slipped a purse of gold into her hands. + +“You will need it,” he said. “Where are you going? you have not told +us.” + +“It is better none should know,” she said; “I will decide my route when +without the city.” + +They never heard of her again.xxxii + +When Edwy awoke and found her gone he was at first frantic, and sent +messengers in all directions to bring her back; but when one after +another came back unsuccessful, he accepted the heroic sacrifice and +submitted. + +Wessex, therefore, remained faithful to him, at least for a time, but +Mercia was utterly lost; and Edgar was recognised as the lawful king +north of the Thames, by all parties; friends and foes, even by Edwy +himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. +“FOR EVER WITH THE LORD.” + + +Many months had passed away since the destruction of the hall of +Æscendune and the death of the unhappy Ragnar, and the spring of 958 +had well-nigh ended. During the interval, a long and hard winter had +grievously tried the shattered constitution of Elfric. He had recovered +from the fever and the effects of his wound in a few weeks, yet only +partially recovered, for the severe shock had permanently injured his +once strong health, and ominous symptoms showed themselves early in the +winter. His breathing became oppressed, he complained of pains in the +chest, and seemed to suffer after any exertion. + +These symptoms continued to increase in gravity, until his friends were +reluctantly compelled to recognise the symptoms of that insidious +disease, so often fatal in our English climate, which we now call +consumption. + +It was long before they would admit as much; but when they saw how +acutely he suffered in the cold frosts; how he, who had once been +foremost in every manly exercise, was compelled to forego the hunt, and +to allow his brother to traverse the woods and enjoy the pleasures of +the chase without him; how he sought the fireside and shivered at the +least draught; how a dry painful cough continually shook his frame, +they could no longer disguise the fact that his days on earth might be +very soon ended. + +There was one fact which astonished them. Although he had returned with +avidity to all the devotional habits in which he had been trained, yet +he always expressed himself unfit to receive the Holy Communion, and +delayed to make that formal confession of his sins, which the religious +habits of the age imposed on every penitent. + +Once or twice his fond mother, anxious for his spiritual welfare, +pressed this duty upon him; and Alfred, whom he loved, as well he +might, most dearly, urged the same thing, yet he always evaded the +subject, or, when pressed, replied that he fully meant to do so; in +short, it was a matter of daily preparation, but he could not come to +be shriven yet. + +When the winter at last yielded, and the bright spring sun spoke of the +resurrection, when Lent was over, they hoped at least to see him make +his Easter communion, and their evident anxiety upon the subject at +last brought from him the avowal of the motives which actuated his +conduct. + +It was Easter Eve, and Alfred had enticed him out to enjoy the balmy +air of a bright April afternoon. Close by the path they took, the hall +was rapidly rising to more than its former beauty, for not only had the +theows and ceorls all shown great alacrity in the work, but all the +neighbouring thanes had lent their aid. + +“It will be more beautiful than ever,” said Alfred, “but not quite so +homelike. Still, when you come of age, Elfric, it will be a happy home +for you.” + +“It will never be my home, Alfred.” + +“You must not speak so despondently. The bright springtide will soon +restore all your former health and vigour.” + +“No, Alfred, no; the only home I look for is one where my poor +shattered frame will indeed recover its vigour, but it will not be the +vigour or beauty of this world. Do you remember the lines Father +Cuthbert taught us the other night? + +“‘Oh, how glorious and resplendent, + Fragile body, shalt thou be, +When endued with so much beauty, + Full of health, and strong and free, +Full of vigour, full of pleasure. + That shall last eternally.’ + + +“It will not be of earth, though, my brother.” + +Alfred was silent; his emotions threatened to overcome him. He could +not bear to think that he should lose Elfric, although the conviction +was gradually forcing itself upon them all. + +“Alfred,” continued the patient, “it is of no use deceiving ourselves. +I have often thought it hard to leave this beautiful world, for it is +beautiful after all, and to leave you who have almost given your life +for me, and dear mother, little Edgitha, and Father Cuthbert; but God’s +Will must be done, and what He wills must be best for us. No; this +bright Easter tide is the last I shall see on earth; but did not Father +Cuthbert say that heaven is an eternal Easter?” + +So the repentant prodigal spoke, according to the lessons the Church +had taught him. Superstitious in many points that Church of our +forefathers may have been, yet how much living faith had its home +therein will never be fully known till the judgment. + +“And when I look at that castle,” Elfric continued, “our own hall of +Æscendune, rising from its ashes, I picture to myself how you will +marry some day and be happy there; how our dear mother will see your +children growing up around her knee, and teach them as she taught you +and me; how, perhaps, you will name one after me, and there shall be +another Elfric, gay and happy as the old one, but, I hope, ten times as +good; and you will not let him go to court, I am sure, Alfred.” + +Alfred did not answer; he could not command his composure. + +“And when you all come to the priory church on Sundays, and Father +Cuthbert, or whoever shall come after him, sings the mass, you will +remember me and breathe my name in your prayers when they say the +memento for the faithful dead; and again, there shall be little +children learning their paters and their sweet little prayers, as you +and I learned them at our mother’s knee: and you will show them my +tomb, where I shall rest with dear father, and perhaps my story may be +a warning to them. But you must never forget to show them how brotherly +love was stronger than death when the old hall was burnt. + +“After all,” he continued, “our separation won’t be long, the longest +day comes to an end, and a thousand years are with Him as one day. We +shall all be united at last—father, mother, Alfred, Edgitha, Elfric. Do +you not hear the Easter bells?” + +They retraced their steps to the priory church for the services of +Easter Eve. + +“And one thing more, dear Alfred; you think me a strange penitent, that +I am long, very long, before I make my confession. You do not know how +I sigh for Communion; it is three years since I communicated, nearly +four. But, Alfred, there is one who tried to stop me when I began going +downward, downward, and I feel as if I must have his forgiveness before +I can communicate, and it is to him I want to make my last confession. +You know whom I mean; he is in England now and near.” + +“I do indeed.” + +“Now you know my secret, let us go into church.” + +Oh, how sweetly those Easter psalms and lessons spoke to Alfred and +Elfric that night; how sweetly the tidings of a risen Saviour sounded +in their ears. Easter joy was joy indeed. The very heavens seemed +brighter that night, the moon—the Paschal moon—seemed to gladden the +earth and render it a Paradise, like that happy Eden of old times, +before sin entered its holy seclusion. + +Easter tide was over, and Ascension drew near, but the sweet month of +May had done little to restore health to poor Elfric. He had scarcely +ever had a day free from pain. His eye was brighter than ever, but his +attenuated face told a sad tale of the decay of the vital power. + +From the time that Alfred knew how his brother yearned for Dunstan’s +forgiveness, and that he would be shriven by none but him, he had +sought to accomplish his wish. He heard that Dunstan had returned from +abroad, and was about to be consecrated Bishop of Worcester, and to be +their own diocesan, and he sought an early opportunity of seeing him. + +At last, but not until after Dunstan’s consecration, he gained the +opportunity, not without much delay; for Dunstan was sometimes in +Worcester, sometimes in London, which had thrown off Edwy’s authority, +and submitted, with all Essex, to Edgar; sometimes ordaining, sometimes +confirming, sometimes assisting Edgar in the government; and he was, +like all other great men, very inaccessible. + +At last Alfred learned that he would be in Worcester by a certain day, +and he started at once for that city. He arrived there after a tedious +journey; the roads were very difficult, and when he reached the city he +heard the cathedral bells, and went at once to the high mass, for it +was a festival. There he saw Dunstan as he had seen him before at +Glastonbury, at the altar, amidst all the solemn pomp in which our +ancestors robed the sacred office. + +Immediately after the service he repaired to the palace, and put in his +name. Numbers, like himself, were awaiting an audience, but only a few +minutes had passed ere an usher came into the antechamber and informed +him that Dunstan requested his immediate presence. + +He followed the usher amidst the envy of many who had the prospect of a +long detention ere they could obtain the same favour, and soon he had +clasped Dunstan’s hand and knelt for his blessing. + +“Nay! rise up, my son, it is thine: _Deus benedicat et custodiat te, in +omnibus viis tuis_. Thinkest thou, my son, thy name has been forgotten +in my poor prayers? God made thee His instrument, but thou wast a very +very willing one; and now, my son, wherein can I serve thee? Thou hast +but to speak.” + +Thus encouraged, Alfred told all his tale, and Dunstan listened with +much emotion. + +“Yet two days and I will be with you at Æscendune. Go back and comfort +thy brother; he shall indeed have my forgiveness, and happy shall I be +as an ambassador of Christ to fulfil the blessed office of restoring +the lost sheep to the fold, the prodigal to his Heavenly Father.” + +When Alfred returned to Æscendune he found Elfric eagerly awaiting him; +he had not been so well in the absence of his brother, and every one +saw symptoms of the coming end. + +Still he seemed so happy when Alfred delivered his message that every +one remarked it, and that evening he sat up later than usual, listening +as Father Cuthbert read for the hundredth time his favourite story from +King Alfred’s Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels, the parable of the +prodigal son, which had filled his mind on the night after the battle; +then he spoke to his mother about past days, before a cloud came +between him and his home; and talked of his father, and of the little +incidents of early youth. Always loving, he was more so than usual that +night, as if he felt time was short in which to show a son’s love. + +That night his mother came, as she always came, when he was asleep, to +his chamber to gaze upon him, when she was struck by the difficulty of +his breathing; she felt alarmed when she saw the struggles he seemed to +make for breath, and saw the damp sweat upon his brow, so she called +Alfred. + +Alfred saw at once that his brother was seriously worse, and summoned +Father Cuthbert, who no sooner gazed upon him than he exclaimed that +the end was near. + +During all that night he breathed heavily and with difficulty, as if +each breath would be the last. Towards morning, however, he rallied, +and immediate danger seemed gone, although only for a short time. + +He sat up for the last time that day. It was a lovely day in May, and +in the heat of the day he seemed to drink in the sweet atmosphere, as +it came gently through the open window, laden with the scents of a +hundred flowers. Often his lips moved as if in prayer, and sometimes he +spoke to his brother, and asked when Dunstan would come; but he was not +equal to prolonged conversation. + +At length one of the ceorls came riding in to say that the Bishop, with +his retinue, was approaching the village, and Father Cuthbert went out +to meet him. The impatient anxiety of poor Elfric became painful to +witness. + +“He is coming, Elfric! he is coming!” said Alfred from the window. “I +see him near; see! he stops to salute Father Cuthbert, whom he knew +years ago; I must go down to receive him. + +“Mother! You stay with Elfric.” + +A sound as of many feet; another moment, a firm step was heard upon the +stairs, and Dunstan entered the room. + +He advanced to the bed, while all present stood in reverent silence, +and gazed upon the patient with a look of such affection as a father +might bestow upon a dying son as he took the weak nerveless hand. + +Elfric looked round with a mute appeal which they all comprehended, and +left him alone with Dunstan. + +“Father, pardon me!” he said. + +“Thou askest pardon of me, my son—of me, a sinner like thyself; I +cannot tell thee how freely I give it thee; and now, my son, unburden +thyself before thy God, for never was it known that one pleaded to Him +and was cast out.” + +When, after an interval, Dunstan summoned the lady Edith and Alfred +back into the room, a look of such calm, placid composure, such +satisfied happiness, sat upon his worn face, that they never forgot it. + +“Surely,” thought they, “such is the expression the blessed will wear +in heaven.” + +And then, in their presence, Dunstan administered the Blessed Sacrament +of the Body and Blood of Christ to the happy penitent; it was the first +Communion which he had willingly made since he first left home, a +bright happy boy of fifteen; and words would fail to describe the deep +faith and loving penitence with which he gathered his dying strength to +receive the Holy Mysteries. + +And then Dunstan administered the last of all earthly rites—the holy +anointing;xxxiii while amidst their tears the mourners yet thought of +Him Who vouchsafed to be anointed before He sanctified the grave to be +a bed of hope to His people. + +“Art thou happy now, my son?” said Dunstan, when all was over. + +“Happy indeed! happy! yes, so happy!” + +They were almost the last words he said, until an hour had passed and +the sun had set, leaving the bright clouds suffused in rich purple, +when he sat up in the bed. + +“Mother! Alfred!” he said, “do you hear that music? Many are singing; +surely that was father’s voice. Oh! how bright!” + +He fell back, and Dunstan began the solemn commendatory prayer, for he +saw the last moment was come. + +“Go forth, O Christian soul, from this world, in the name of God the +Father Who hath created thee, of God the Son Who hath redeemed thee, of +God the Holy Ghost Who hath been poured out upon thee; and may thy +abode be this day in peace, in the heavenly Sion, through Jesus Christ +thy Lord.” + +It was over! Over that brief but eventful life! Over all the bright +hopes which had centred on him in this world; but the battle was won, +and the eternal victory gained. + +We have little more to add to our tale; the remainder is matter of +history. The real fate of the unhappy Elgiva is not known, for the +legend which represents her as suffering a violent death at the hands +of the partisans of Edgar or Odo rests upon no solid foundation, but is +repugnant to actual facts of history. Let us hope that she found the +only real consolation in that religion she had hitherto, unhappily, +despised, but which may perhaps have come to her aid in adversity. + +The unhappy Edwy sank from bad to worse. When Elgiva was gone he seemed +to have nothing to live for; he yielded himself up to riotous living to +drown care, while his government became worse and worse. Alas, he never +repented, so far as we can learn, and the following year he died at +Gloucester—some said of a broken heart, others of a broken +constitution—in the twentieth year only of his age. + +Poor unhappy Edwy the Fair! Yet he had been his own worst enemy. Well +has it been written: + +“Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine +heart, and in the sight of thine eyes; but know thou that for all these +things God will bring thee into judgment.” + +Edgar succeeded to the throne, and all England acknowledged him as +lord; while under Dunstan’s wise administration the land enjoyed peace +and plenty unexampled in Anglo-Saxon annals. Such was Edgar’s power, +that more than three thousand vessels kept the coast in safety, and +eight tributary kings did him homage. + +Alfred became in due course Thane of Æscendune, and his widowed mother +lived to rejoice in his filial care many a long year, while the +dependants and serfs blessed his name as they had once blessed that of +his father. + +“The boy is the father of the man” it has been well said, and it was +not less true than usual in this case. A bright pure boyhood ushered in +a manhood of healthful vigour and bright intellect. + +Children grew up around him after his happy marriage with Alftrude, the +daughter of the thane of Rollrich. The eldest boy was named Elfric, and +was bright and brave as the Elfric of old. Need we say he never went to +court, although Edgar would willingly have numbered him in the royal +household. Truly, indeed, were fulfilled the words which the Elfric of +old had spoken on that Easter eve. To his namesake, and to all that +younger generation, the memory of the uncle they had never seen was +surrounded by a mysterious halo of light and love; and when they said +their prayers around his tomb, it seemed as if he were still one of +themselves—sharing their earthly joys and sorrows. + +And here we must leave them—time passing sweetly on, the current of +their lives flowing softly and gently to the mighty ocean of eternity: + +“Where the faded flower shall freshen, + Freshen never more to fade; +Where the shaded sky shall brighten, + Brighten never more to shade.” + _Bonar_. + + +THE END. + + + + +Footnotes + + +i For authorities for his various statements the Author must beg to +refer his readers to the notes at the end of the volume. + +ii Homilies in the Anglo-Saxon Church + +“The mass priest, on Sundays and mass days, shall speak the sense of +the Gospel to the people in English, and of the Paternoster, and of the +Creed, as often as he can, for the inciting of the people to know their +belief, and to retain their Christianity. Let the teacher take heed of +what the prophet says, ‘They are dumb dogs, and cannot bark.’ We ought +to bark and preach to laymen, lest they should be lost through +ignorance. Christ in His gospel says of unlearned teachers, ‘If the +blind lead the blind, they both fall into the ditch.’ The teacher is +blind that hath no book learning, and he misleads the laity through his +ignorance. Thus are you to be aware of this, as your duty +requires.”—23d Canon of Elfric, about A.D. 957. + +Elfric was then only a private monk in the abbey of Ahingdon, and +perhaps composed these canons for the use of Wulfstan, Bishop of +Dorchester, with the assistance of the abbot, Ethelwold. They commence +“Ælfricus, humilis frater, venerabili Episcopo Wulfsino, salutem in +Domino.” Others think this “Wulfsinus” was the Bishop of Sherborne of +that name. Elfric became eventually Archbishop of Canterbury, A.D. +995-1005, dying at an advanced age. No other English name before the +Conquest is so famous in literature. + +iii Services of the Church. + +“It concerns mass priests, and all God’s servants, to keep their +churches employed with God’s service. Let them sing therein the +seven-tide songs that are appointed them, as the Synod earnestly +requires—that is, the uht song (matins); the prime song (seven A.M.); +the undern song (terce, nine A.M.); the midday song (sext); the noon +song (nones, three P.M.); the even song (six P.M.); the seventh or +night song (compline, nine P.M.)”—19th Canon of Elfric. + +It is not to be supposed that the laity either were expected to attend, +or could attend, all these services, which were strictly kept in +monastic bodies; but it would appear that mass, and sometimes matins +and evensong, or else compline, were generally frequented. And these +latter would be, as represented in the text, the ordinary services in +private chapels. + +iv Battle of Brunanburgh. + +In this famous battle, the English, under their warlike king, defeated +a most threatening combination of foes; Anlaf, the Danish prince, +having united his forces to those of Constantine, King of the Scots, +and the Britons, or Welsh of Strathclyde and Cambria. So proud were the +English of the victory, that their writers break into poetry when they +come to that portion of their annals. Such is the case with the writer +of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, from whom the following verses are +abridged. They have been already partially quoted in the text. + +Here Athelstane king, +Of earls the lord, +To warriors the ring-giver, +Glory world-long +Had won in the strife, +By edge of the sword, +At Brunanburgh. +The offspring of Edward, +The departed king, +Cleaving the shields. +Struck down the brave. +Such was their valour, +Worthy of their sires, +That oft in the strife +They shielded the land +‘Gainst every foe. +The Scottish chieftains, +The warriors of the Danes, +Pierced through their mail, +Lay dead on the field. +The field was red +With warriors’ blood, +What time the sun, +Uprising at morn, +The candle of God, +Ran her course through the heavens; +Till red in the west +She sank to her rest. +Through the live-long day +Fought the people of Wessex, +Unshrinking from toil, +While Mercian men, +Hurled darts by their side. +Fated to die +Their ships brought the Danes, +Five kings and seven earls, +All men of renown, +And Scots without number +Lay dead on the field. +Constantine, hoary warrior, +Had small cause to boast. +Young in the fight, +Mangled and torn, +Lay his son on the plain. +Nor Anlaf the Dane +With wreck of his troops, +Could vaunt of the war +Of the clashing of spears. +Or the crossing of swords, +with the offspring of Edward. +The Northmen departed +In their mailed barks, +Sorrowing much; +while the two brothers, +The King and the Etheling, +To Wessex returned, +Leaving behind +The corpses of foes +To the beak of the raven, +The eagle and kite, +And the wolf of the wood. + + +The Chronicle simply adds, “A.D. 937.—This year King Athelstan, and the +Etheling Edmund, his brother, led a force to Brimanburgh, end there +fought against Anlaf, and, Christ helping them, they slew five kings +and seven earls.” + +v Murder of Edmund. + +A certain robber named Leofa, whom Edmund had banished for his crimes, +returning after six years’ absence, totally unexpected, was sitting, on +the feast of St. Augustine, the apostle of the English, and first +Archbishop of Canterbury, among the royal guests at Pucklechurch, for +on this day the English were wont to regale, in commemoration of their +first preacher; by chance, too, he was placed near a nobleman, whom the +king had condescended to make his guest. This, while the others were +eagerly carousing, was perceived by the king alone; when, hurried with +indignation, and impelled by fate, he leaped from the table, caught the +robber by the hair, and dragged him to the floor; but he, secretly +drawing a dagger from its sheath, plunged it with all his force into +the breast of the king as he lay upon him. Dying of the wound, he gave +rise over the whole kingdom to many fictions concerning his decease. +The robber was shortly torn limb from limb by the attendants who rushed +in, though he wounded some of them ere they could accomplish their +purpose. St. Dunstan, at that time Abbot of Glastonbury, had foreseen +his ignoble end, being fully persuaded of it from the gesticulations +and insolent mockery of a devil dancing before him. Wherefore, +hastening to court at full speed, he received intelligence of the +transaction on the road. By common consent, then, it was determined +that his body should be brought to Glastonbury, and there magnificently +buried in the northern part of the tower. That such had been his +intention, through his singular regard for the abbot, was evident from +particular circumstances. The village, also, where he was murdered, was +made a offering for the dead, that the spot, which had witnessed his +fall, might ever after minister aid to his soul,—William of Malmesbury, +B, ii. e. 7, Bohn’s Edition. + +vi A. D. 556—Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. + +vii Wulfstan, and the See of Dorchester. + +When Athelstane was dead, the Danes, both in Northumberland and Mercia, +revolted against the English rule, and made Anlaf their king. +Archbishop Wulfstan, then of York, sided with them, perhaps being +himself of Danish blood. The kingdom was eventually divided between +Edmund and Aulaf, until the death of the latter. When Edred ascended +the throne—after the murder of Edmund, who had, before his death, +repossessed himself of the whole sovereignty—the wise men of +Northumberland, with Wulfstan at their head, swore submission to him, +but in 948 rebelled and chose for their king Eric of Denmark. Edred +marched at once against them, and subdued the rebellion with great +vigour, not to say riqour. He threw the archbishop into prison at +Jedburgh in Bernicia. After a time he was released, but only upon the +condition of banishment from Northumbria, and he was made Bishop of +Dorchester, a place familiar to the tourist on the Thames, famed for +the noble abbey church which still exists, and has been grandly +restored. + +Although Dorchester is now only a village, it derives its origin from a +period so remote that it is lost in the mist of ages. It was probably a +British village under the name Cair Dauri, the camp on the waters; and +coins of Cunobelin, or Cassivellaunus, have been found in good +preservation. Bede mentions it as a Roman station, and Richard of +Cirencester marks it as such in the xviii. Iter, under the name +Durocina. + +Its bishopric was founded by Birinus, the apostle of the West Saxons; +and the present bishoprics of Winchester, Salisbury, Exeter, Bath and +Wells, Worcester and Hereford, were successively taken from it, after +which it still extended from the Thames to the Humber. + +Suffering grievously from the ravages of the Danes, it became a small +town, and it suffered again grievously at the Conquest, when the +inhabited houses were reduced by the Norman ravages from 172 to 100, +and perhaps the inhabitants were reduced in proportion. In consequence, +Remigius, the first Norman bishop, removed the see to Lincoln, because +Dorchester, on account of its size and small population, did not suit +his ideas, as John of Brompton observes. From this period its decline +was rapid, in spite of its famous abbey, which Remigius partially +erected with the stones from the bishop’s palace. + +viii Anglo-Saxon Literature. + +In the age of Bede, the eighth century, Britain was distinguished for +its learning; but the Danish invasions caused the rapid decline of its +renown. + +The churches and monasteries, where alone learning flourished, and +which were the only libraries and schools, were the first objects of +the hatred of the ferocious pagans; and, in consequence, when Alfred +came to the throne, as he tells us in his own words—“South of the +Humber there were few priests who could understand the meaning of their +common prayers, or translate a line of Latin into English; so few, that +in Wessex there was not one.” Alfred set himself diligently to work to +correct this evil. Nearly all the books in existence in England were in +Latin, and it was a “great” library which contained fifty copies of +these. There was a great objection to the use of the vernacular in the +Holy Scriptures, as tending to degrade them by its uncouth jargon; but +the Venerable Bede had rendered the Gospel of St. John into the +Anglo-Saxon, together with other extracts from holy Scripture; and +there were versions of the Psalter in the vulgar tongue, very rude and +uncouth; for ancient translators generally imagined a translation could +only be faithful which placed all the words of the vulgar tongue in the +same relative positions as the corresponding words in the original. An +Anglo-Saxon translation upon this plan is extant. + +Alfred had taught himself Latin by translating: there were few +vocabularies, and only the crabbed grammar of old Priscian. Shaking +himself free from the trammels we have enumerated, he invited learned +men from abroad, such as his biographer, Asser, and together they +attempted a complete version of the Bible. Some writers suppose the +project was nearly completed, others, that it was interrupted by his +early death. Still, translations were multiplied of the sacred +writings, and the rubrics show that they were read, as described in the +text, upon the Sundays and festivals. From that time down to the days +of Wickliffe, England can boast of such versions of the sacred Word as +can hardly be paralleled in Europe. + +The other works we have mentioned were also translated by or for +Alfred. “The Chronicle of Orosius,” a history of the world by a +Spaniard of Seville; “The History of the Venerable Bede;” “The +Consolations of Philosophy,” by Boethius; “Narratives from Ancient +Mythology;” “The Confessions of St. Augustine;” “The Pastoral +Instructions of St. Gregory;” and his “Dialogue,” form portions of the +works of this greatest of kings, and true father of his people. His +“Apologues,” imitated from Æsop, are unfortunately lost. + +ix The Court of Edred. + +All the early chroniclers appear to take a similar view of the +character and court of Edred. William of Malmesbury says—“The king +devoted his life to God, and to St. Dunstan, by whose admonition he +bore with patience his frequent bodily pains, prolonged his prayers, +and made his palace altogether the school of virtue.” But although +pious, he was by no means wanting in manly energy, as was shown by his +vigorous and successful campaign in Northumbria, on the occasion of the +attempt to set Eric, son of Harold, on the throne of Northumbria. The +angelic apparition to St. Dunstan, mentioned in chapter VII, is told by +nearly all the early historians, but with varying details. According to +many, it occurred while Dunstan was hastening to the aid of Edred. The +exigencies of the tale required a slightly different treatment of the +legend. + +x Confession in the Anglo-Saxon Church. + +“On the week next before holy night shall every one go to his shrift +(i.e. confessor), and his shrift shall shrive him in such a manner as +his deeds which he hath done require and he shall charge all that +belong to his district that if any of them have discord with any, he +make peace with him; if any one will not be brought to this, then he +shall not shrive him; [but] then he shall inform the bishop, that he +may convert him to what is right, if he he willing to belong to God: +then all contentions and disputes shall cease, and if there be any one +of them that hath taken offence at another, then shall they be +reconciled, that they may the more freely say in the Lord’s Prayer, +‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against +us,’ etc. And having thus purified their minds, let them enter upon the +holy fast-tide, and cleanse themselves by satisfaction against holy +Easter, for this satisfaction is as it were a second baptism. As in +Baptism the sins before committed are forgiven, so, by satisfaction, +are the sins committed after Baptism.” Theodulf’s Canons, A.D. 994 +(Canon 36). + +It is evident, says Johnson, that “holy night” means “lenten night,” as +the context shows. + +xi Incense in the Anglo-Saxon Church. + +Dr. Rock, in his “Hierurgia Anglicans,” states that incense was used at +the Gospel. In vol. i., quoting from Ven. Bede, he writes —“Conveniunt +omnes in ecclesium B. Petri ipse (Ceolfridas Abbas) thure incenso, et +dicto oratione, ad altare pacem dat omnibus, stans in gradibus, +thuribulum habens in menu.” In Leofric’s Missal is a form for the +blessing of incense. Theodore’s Penitential also affixes a penance to +its wilful or careless destruction. Ven. Bede on his deathbed gave away +incense amongst his little parting presents, as his disciple, Cuthbert, +relates. Amongst the furniture of the larger Anglo-Saxon churches was a +huge censer hanging from the roof, which emitted fumes throughout the +mass. + +“Hic quoque thuribulum, capitellis undique cinctum, +Pendet de summo, fumosa foramina pandens: +De quibus ambrosia spirabunt thura Sabæa, +Quando sacerdotes missas offerre jubentur.” +Alcuini _Opera_, B. ii,, p. 550. + + +xii Psalm xxi. 3. + +xiii “All were indignant at the shameless deed, and murmured amongst +themselves,” —William of Malmesbury. + +xiv The Welsh were driven from Exeter by King Athelstane; before that +time, Englishmen and Welsh had inhabited it with equal rights. + +xv The earliest inhabitants of Ireland were called Scots. + +xvi Legends about St. Dunstan. + +“It is a great pity,” says Mr. Freeman, in his valuable “Old English +History,” “that so many strange stories are told about him [Dunstan], +because people are apt to think of those stories and not of his real +actions.” This has indeed been the case to such an extent that his +talents, as a statesman and as an ecclesiastical legislator, are almost +unknown to many who are very familiar with the story of his seizing the +devil by the nose with a pair of tongs. Sir Francis Palgrave supposes +that St. Dunstan’s seclusion at the time had led him to believe, like +so many solitaries, that he was attacked in person by the fiend, and +that he related his visions, which were accepted as absolute facts by +his credulous hearers. Hence the author has assumed the currency of +some of these marvellous legends in his tale, and has introduced a +later one into the text of the present chapter. But the whole life of +the saint, as related by his monkish biographers, is literally full of +such legends, some terrible, some ludicrous. One of the most remarkable +deserves mention, bearing, as it does, upon our tale. It is said that +he learned that Edwy was dead, and that the devils were about to carry +off his soul in triumph, when, falling to fervent prayer, he obtained +his release. A most curious colloquy between the abbot and the devils +on this subject may be found in Osberne’s “Life of Dunstan.” + +xvii The Benedictine Rule. + +St. Benedict, the founder of the great Benedictine Order, was born in +the neighbourhood of Nursia, a city of Italy, about A.D. 480. Sent to +study at Rome, he was shocked at the vices of his fellow students, ran +away from the city, and shut himself up in a hermitage, where he +resigned himself to a life of the strictest austerity. Three years he +spent in a cave near Subiaco, about forty miles from Rome, where he was +so removed from society that he lost all account of time. He did not, +however, lead an idle life of self contemplation; he instructed the +shepherds of he neighbourhood, and such were the results of his +instruction that his fame spread widely, until, the abbot of a +neighbouring monastery dying, the brethren almost compelled him to +become their superior, but, not liking the reforms he introduced, +subsequently endeavoured to poison him, whereupon he returned to his +cave, where, as St. Gregory says, “he dwelt with himself” and became +more celebrated than ever. After this the number of his disciples +increased so greatly, that, emerging from his solitude, he built twelve +monasteries, in each of which he placed twelve monks under a superior, +finally laying the foundation of the great monastery of Monte Cassino, +which has ever since been regarded as the central institution of the +order. + +Here was drawn up the famous Benedictine rule, which was far more +adapted than any other code to prevent the cloister from becoming the +abode of idleness or lascivious ease. To the three vows of poverty, +chastity, and obedience, was added the obligation of manual labour, the +brethren being required to work with their hands at least seven hours +daily. The profession for life was preceded by a novitiate of one year, +during which the rule was deeply studied by the novice, that the life +vow might not be taken without due consideration. The colour of the +habit was usually dark, hence the brethren were called the Black Monks. + +St. Benedict died of a fever, which he caught in ministering to the +poor, on the eve of Passion Sunday, A.D. 543. Before his death, the +houses of the order were to be found in all parts of Europe, and by the +ninth century it had become general throughout the Church, almost +superseding all other orders. + +xviii The Roman Roads. + +Roman roads were thus constructed: Two shallow trenches were dug +parallel to each other, marking the breadth of the proposed road; the +loose earth was removed till a solid foundation was reached, and above +this were laid four distinct strata—the first of small broken stones, +the second of rubble, the third of fragments of bricks or pottery, and +the fourth the pavement, composed of large blocks of solid stone, so +joined as to present a perfectly even surface. Regular footpaths were +raised on each side, and covered with gravel. Milestones divided them +accurately. Mountains were pierced by cuttings or tunnels, and arches +thrown over valleys or streams. Upon these roads, posting houses +existed at intervals of six miles, each provided with forty horses, so +that journeys of more than 150 miles were sometimes accomplished in one +day. + +From the arrival of our uncivilised anceators, these magnificent roads +were left to ruin and decay, and sometimes became the quarry whence the +thane or baron drew stones for his castle; but they still formed the +channels of communication for centuries. Henry of Huntingdon (circa +1154) mentions the Icknield Street, from east to west; the Eringe, or +Ermine Street, from south to north; the Watling Street, from southeast +to northwest; and the Foss Way, from northeast to southwest, as the +four principal highways of Britain in his day. Once ruined, no +communications so perfect existed until these days of railroads. + +xix The Rollright Stones. + +These stones are still to be seen in the parish of Great Rollright near +Chipping Norton, Oxon, anciently Rollrich or Rholdrwygg. They lie on +the edge of an old Roman trackway, well defined, which extends along +the watershed between Thames and Avon. The writer has himself heard +from the rustics of the neighbourhood the explanation given by Oswy, +while that put in the mouth of Father Cuthbert is the opinion of the +learned. + +xx For this new translation of Urbs beata the author is indebted to his +friend the Rev. Gerald Moultrie. + +xxi The reader will remember the strong feeling of animosity then +existing between seculars and regulars. + +xxii This demoniacal laughter is one of the many legends about St. +Dunstan. + +xxiii See Preface. + +xxiv Ruined British Cities. + +The resistance of the Britons (or Welsh) to their Saxon (or English) +foes was so determined, that, as in all similar cases, it increased the +miseries of the conquered. In Gaul the conquered Celts united with the +Franks to make one people; in Spain they united with the Goths; but the +conquerors of Britain came from that portion of Germany which had been +untouched by Roman valour or civilisation, and consequently there was +no disposition to unite with their unhappy victims, but the war became +one of extermination. Long and bravely did the unhappy Welsh struggle. +After a hundred years of warfare they still possessed the whole extent +of the western coast, from the wall of Autoninus to the extreme +promontory of Cornwall; and the principal cities of the inland +territory still maintained the resistance. The fields of battle, says +Gibbon, might be traced in almost every district by the monuments of +bones; the fragments of falling towers were stained by blood, the +Britons were massacred ruthlessly to the last man in the conquered +towns, without distinction of age or sex, as in Anderida. Whole +territories returned to desolation; the district between the Tyne and +Tees, for example, to the state of a savage and solitary forest. The +wolves, which Roman authorities describe as nonexistent in England, +again peopled those dreary wastes; and from the soft civilisation of +Rome the inhabitants of the land fell back to the barbarous manners and +customs of the shepherds and hunters of the German forests. Nor did the +independent Britons, who had taken refuge finally in Wales, or Devon +and Cornwall, fare much better. Separated by their foes from the rest +of mankind, they returned to that state of barbarism from which they +had emerged, and became a scandal at last to the growing civilisation +of their English foes. + +Under these circumstances the Saxons or English (the Saxons founded the +kingdoms of Wessex and Essex; the Jutes, Kent; the Angles all the +others. The predominance of the latter caused the term English to +become the general appellation.) cared little to inhabit the cities +they conquered; they left them to utter desolation, as in the case +described in the text, until a period came when, as in the case of the +first English assaults upon Exeter and the west country, they no longer +destroyed, but appropriated, while they spared the conquered. + +xxv Seaton in Devonshire. + +xxvi Elgiva or Ælgifu, signifies fairy gift. + +Xxvii + +The gate of hell stands open night and day; +Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: +But to return, and view the upper skies—In this the toil, in this the +labour lies.—Dryden. + + +xxviii Valhalla. + +Valhalla or Waihalla was the mythical Scandinavian Olympus, the +celestial locality where Odin and Edris dwelt with the happy dead who +had fallen in battle, and who had been conducted thither by the fair +Valkyries. Here they passed the days in fighting and hunting +alternately, being restored sound in body for the banquet each night, +where they drank mead from the skulls of the foes they had vanquished +in battle. Such was the heaven which commended itself to those fierce +warriors. + +xxix The parish priests were commonly called “Mass-Thanes” + +xxx “I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord. He that +believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever +liveth, and believeth in Me, shall never die.” + +It was not the usual English custom, in those days, to bury the dead in +coffins, still it was often done, in the case of the great, from the +earliest days of Christianity. For instance, a stone coffin, supposed +to contain the dust of the fierce Offa, who died A. D. 796, was dug up, +when more than a thousand years had passed away, in the year 1836, at +Hemel-Hempstead, with the name Offa rudely carved upon it. The earliest +mention of churchyards in English antiquities is in the canons called +the “Excerptions of Ecgbriht,” A.D. 740, when Cuthbert was Archbishop +of Canterbury; and here the word “atria” is used, which may refer to +the outbuildings or porticoes of a church. + + +xxxi The Greater and Lesser Excommunications. + +The lesser excommunication excluded men from the participation of the +Eucharist and the prayers of the faithful, but did not necessarily +expel them from the Church. The greater excommunication was far more +dreadful in its operation. It was not lawful to pray, speak, or eat, +with the excommunicate (Canons of Ecgbright). No meat might be given +into their hands even in charity, although it might be laid before them +on the ground. Those who sheltered them incurred a heavy “were gild,” +and endangered the loss of their estates; and finally, in case of +obstinacy, outlawry and banishment followed. + +—King Canute’s Laws Ecclesiastical. + +xxxii Disappearance of Elgiva. + +The writer has already in the preface stated his reasons for rejecting +the usual sad story about the fate of the hapless Elgiva. The other +story, that she was seized by Archbishop Odo, branded on the face, and +sent to Ireland, as Mr. Freeman observes, rests on no good authority; +all that is certainly known is that she disappeared. + +At the time commonly assigued to these events, Dunstan was still in +Flanders; yet he is generally credited with the atrocities by modern +writers, even as if he had been proved guilty after a formal trial. His +return probably took place about the time occupied by the action of the +last chapter, when the partition of the kingdom had already occurred. + +xxxiii The last Anointing. + +The priest shall also have oil hallowed, separately, for children, and +for sick men; and solemnly anoint the sick in their beds. Some sick men +are full of vain fears, so as not to consent to the being anointed. Now +we will tell you how God’s Apostle Jacob hath instructed us in this +point; he thus speaks to the faithful: “If any of you be afflicted, let +him pray for himself with an even mind, and praise his Lord. If any be +sick among you, let him fetch the mass priests of the congregation, and +let them sing over him, and pray for him, and anoint him with oil in +the Name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith shall heal the sick; and +the Lord shall raise him up: and if he be in sins they shall be +forgiven him. Confess your sins among yourselves, pray for yourselves +among yourselves, that ye be healed.” Thus spake Jacob the Apostle +concerning the unction of the sick. But the sick man, before his +anointing, shall with inward heart confess his sins to the priest, if +he hath any for which he hath not made satisfaction, according to what +the Apostle before taught: and he must not be anointed, unless he +request it, and make his confession. If he were before sinful and +careless, let him then confess, and repent, and do alms before his +death, that he may not be adjudged to hell, but obtain the Divine +mercy. + +Such is Johnson’s version of the 32d canon of Elfric, in which he has +preserved closely Elfric’s translation, or rather paraphrase, of the +passage in St. James. The name James was not then in use, the Latin +Jacobus was rendered Jacob.—Johnson’s English Canons, A.D. 957, 32. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EDWY THE FAIR *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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D. Crake</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Æscendune</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: A. D. Crake</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 18, 2004 [eBook #13215]<br /> +[Most recently updated: July 6, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Martin Robb</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EDWY THE FAIR ***</div> + +<h1>Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Æscendune:</h1> + +<h3>A Tale of the Days of Saint Dunstan,</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">by the Rev. A. D. Crake.</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#PREFACE">PREFACE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. “THIS IS THE FOREST PRIMEVAL.”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE OF ÆSCENDUNE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. LEAVING HOME.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. LONDON IN THE OLDEN TIME.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. TEMPTATION.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. LOWER AND LOWER.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. “THE KING IS DEAD!—LONG LIVE THE KING!”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. THE CORONATION.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. GLASTONBURY ABBEY.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. ELFRIC AND ALFRED.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. THE FLIGHT OF DUNSTAN.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. AT HIS WORST.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. THE RETURN OF ALFRED.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. EDWY AND ELGIVA.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. THE ROYAL GUEST.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. NAKED THOUGH LOCKED IN STEEL.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. THE SLEEP OF PEACE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. THE BATTLE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. EARTH TO EARTH, AND DUST TO DUST.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. “AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT.”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. “UNDER WHICH KING? “</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. LOVE STRONG AS DEATH.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. SOW THE WIND, AND REAP THE WHIRLWIND.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. “FOR EVER WITH THE LORD.”</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> + +<p> +It has been the aim of the Author, in a series of original tales told to the +senior boys of a large school, to illustrate interesting or difficult passages +of Church History by the aid of fiction. Two of these +tales—“Æmilius,” a tale of the Decian and Valerian +persecutions; and “Evanus,” a tale of the days of +Constantine—he has already published, and desires gratefully to +acknowledge the kindness with which they have been received. +</p> + +<p> +He is thus encouraged to submit another attempt to the public, having its scene +of action in our own land, although in times very dissimilar to our own; and +for its object, the illustration of the struggle between the regal and +ecclesiastical powers in the days of the ill-fated and ill-advised King Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely can one find a schoolboy who has not read the touching legend of Edwy +and Elgiva—for it is little more than a legend in most of its details; +and which of these youthful readers has not execrated the cruelty of the +Churchmen who separated those unhappy lovers? While the tragical story of the +fate of the hapless Elgiva has been the theme of many a poet and even +historian, who has accepted the tale as if it were of as undoubted authenticity +as the Reform Bill. +</p> + +<p> +The writer can well remember the impression the tale made upon his youthful +imagination, and the dislike, to use a mild word, with which he ever viewed the +character of the great statesman and ecclesiastic of the tenth century, +Dunstan, until a wider knowledge of history and a more accurate judgment came +with maturer years; and testimonies to the ability and genius of that monk, who +had been the moving spirit of his age, began to force themselves upon him. +</p> + +<p> +Lord Macaulay has well summed up the relative positions of Church and State in +that age in the following words: “It is true that the Church had been +deeply corrupted by superstition, yet she retained enough of the sublime +theology and benevolent morality of her early days to elevate many intellects, +and to purify many hearts. That the sacerdotal order should encroach on the +functions of the chief magistrate, would in our time be a great evil. But that +which in an age of good government is an evil, may in an age of grossly bad +government be a blessing. It is better that men should be governed by priest +craft than by brute violence; by such a prelate as Dunstan, than by such a +warrior as Penda.” +</p> + +<p> +The Church was indeed the salt of the earth, even if the salt had somewhat lost +its savour; it was the only power which could step in between the tyrant and +his victim, which could teach the irresponsible great—irresponsible to +man—their responsibility to the great and awful Being whose creatures +they were. And again, it was then the only home of civilisation and learning. +It has been well said that for the learning of this age to vilify the monks and +monasteries of the medieval period, is for the oak to revile the acorn from +which it sprang. +</p> + +<p> +The overwhelming realisation of these facts, the determination to set up the +dominion of truth and justice which they held to be identical with that of the +Church, as that was identical with the kingdom of God, supplies the key to the +lives and characters of such men as Ambrose, Cyril, Dunstan, and Becket. They +each came in collision with the civil power; but Ambrose against Justina or +even Theodosius, Cyril against Orestes, Dunstan against Edwy, Becket against +Henry Plantagenet—each represented, in a greater or less degree, the +cause of religion, nay of humanity, against its worst foes, tyranny or moral +corruption. +</p> + +<p> +Yet not one of these great men was without his faults; this is only to say he +was human; but more may be admitted—personal motives would mix themselves +with nobler emotions. Self would assert her fatal claims, and great mistakes +were sometimes made by those who would have forfeited their lives rather than +have committed them, had they known what they were doing. Yet, on the whole, +their cause was that of God and man, and they fought nobly. Shall we asperse +their memories because they “had this treasure in earthen vessels”? +</p> + +<p> +The tale itself is intended to depict what the writer believes to be the true +relative positions of Edwy and the great ecclesiastic; therefore he will not +attempt to deal with the subject here. It will be noticed however, that he has +shorn the narrative of the dread catastrophe with which it terminated in all +the histories of our childhood. Scarcely any writer has made such wise research +into the history of this period as Mr. E. A. Freeman, and the author has +adopted his conclusions upon this point. With him he has therefore admitted the +marriage of Edwy with Elgiva, although it was an uncanonical marriage beyond +all doubt, and has given her the title of queen, which she bore in a document +preserved by Lappenburg. But, in agreement with the same authority, the writer +feels most happy to be able to reject the story of Elgiva’s supposed +tragical death. All sorts of stories are told by later writers, utterly +contradictory and confused, of a woman killed by the Mercians in their revolt. +This could not be Elgiva, for she was not divorced till the rebellion was over; +and even the sad tale that she was seized by the officers of Odo, and branded +to disfigure her beauty, rests on no good authority. In spite of the reluctance +with which men relinquish a touching tragedy, the calumny should be banished +from the pages of historians; and it is painful to see it repeated, as if of +undoubted authenticity, in a recent popular history for children by one of the +greatest of modern novelists. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy’s character has cost the writer much thought. He has endeavoured to +paint him faithfully—not so bad as all the monastic writers of the +succeeding period (the only writers with few exceptions) describe him; but +still such a youth as the circumstances under which he became placed would +probably have made him—capable of sincere attachment, brave, and devoted +to his friends, yet careless of all religious obligations; bitterly hostile to +the Church, that is to Christianity, for the terms were then synonymous; and +reckless of obligations, or of the sanctity of truth and justice. +</p> + +<p> +His measures against St. Dunstan, as they are related in the tale, have the +authority of history; although it is needless to say that the agents are in +part fictitious characters. The writer’s object has been to subordinate +fiction to history, and never to contradict historic fact; if he has failed in +this intention, it has been his misfortune rather than his fault; for he has +had recourse to all such authorities as lay in his reach.<a +href="#EndNoteA1sym" name="EndNoteA1anc"><sup>i</sup></a> Especially, he is +glad to find that the character he had conceived as Edwy’s perfectly +coincides with the description given by Palgrave in his valuable <b>History of +the Anglo-Saxons</b>: +</p> + +<p> +“Edwy was a youth of singular beauty, but vain, rash, petulant, +profligate, and surrounded by a host of young courtiers, all bent on +encouraging and emulating the vices of their master.” +</p> + +<p> +Another object of the tale has been to depict the trials and temptations, the +fall and the recovery, of a lad fresh from a home full of religious influences, +when thrown amidst the snares which abounded then as now. The motto, +“Facilis descensus Averno,” etc, epitomises the whole story. +</p> + +<p> +In relating a tale of the days of St. Dunstan, the author has felt bound to +give the religious colouring which actually prevailed in that day. He has found +much authority and information in Johnson’s Anglo-Saxon Canons, +especially those of Elfric, probably contemporaneous with the tale. He has +written in no controversial spirit, but with an honest desire to set forth the +truth. +</p> + +<p> +It may be objected that he has made all his characters speak in very modern +English, and has not affected the archaisms commonly found in tales of the +time. To this he would reply, that if the genuine language were preserved, it +would be utterly unintelligible to modern Englishmen, and therefore he has +thought it preferable to translate into the vernacular of today. The English +which men spoke then was no more stilted or formal to them than ours is to us. +</p> + +<p> +Although he has followed Mr. Freeman in the use of the terms English and Welsh, +as far less likely to mislead than the terms Saxons and Britons, and far truer +to history, yet he has not thought proper to follow the obsolete spelling of +proper names; he has not, e. g., spelt Edwy, Eadwig or Elgiva, Ælfgifu. Custom +has Latinised the appellations, and as he has rejected obsolete terms in +conversation, he has felt it more consistent to reject these more correct, but +less familiar, orthographies. +</p> + +<p> +The title, “<b>First Chronicle of Æscendune</b>,” has been +adopted, because the tale here given is but the first of a series of tales +which have been told, but not yet written, attaching themselves to the same +family and locality at intervals of generations. Thus, the second illustrates +the struggle between Edmund Ironside and Canute; the third, the Norman +Conquest; etc. Their appearance in print must depend upon the indulgence +extended to the present volume. +</p> + +<p> +In conclusion, the writer dedicates this book with great respect to Mrs. +Trevelyan, authoress of “<b>Lectures upon the History of +England</b>;” whose first volume, years ago, first taught him to +appreciate, in some degree, the character of St. Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +All Saints’ School, Bloxham, +</p> + +<p> +<i>Easter</i> 1874. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/> +“THIS IS THE FOREST PRIMEVAL.”</h2> + +<p> +IT was a lovely eventide of the sunny month of May, and the declining rays of +the sun penetrated the thick foliage of an old English forest, lighting up in +chequered pattern the velvet sward thick with moss, and casting uncertain rays +as the wind shook the boughs. Every bush seemed instinct with life, for April +showers and May sun had united to force each leaf and spray into its fairest +development, and the drowsy hum of countless insects told, as it saluted the +ears, the tale of approaching summer. +</p> + +<p> +Two boys reclined upon the mossy bank beneath an aged oak; their dress, no less +than their general demeanour, denoted them to be the sons of some substantial +thane. They were clad in hunting costume: leggings of skin over boots of +untanned leather protected their limbs from thorn or brier, and over their +under garments they wore tunics of a dull green hue, edged at the collar and +cuffs with brown fur, and fastened by richly ornamented belts: their bows lay +by their sides, while quivers of arrows were suspended to their girdles, and +two spears, such as were used in the chase of the wild boar, lay by them on the +grass. They had the same fair hair, which, untouched by the shears, hung +negligently around neck and shoulder; the same blue eyes added an indescribable +softness to the features; they had the same well-knit frames and agile +movements, but yet there was a difference. The elder seemed possessed of +greater vivacity of expression; but although each well-strung muscle indicated +physical prowess, there was an uncertain expression in his glance and in the +play of his features, which suggested a yielding and somewhat vacillating +character; while the younger, lacking the full physical development, and +somewhat of the engaging expression of his brother, had that calm and steady +bearing which indicated present and future government of the passions. +</p> + +<p> +“By Thor and Woden, Alfred, we shall be here all night. At what hour did +that stupid churl Oscar say that the deer trooped down to drink?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not till sunset, Elfric; and it wants half an hour yet; see, the sun is +still high.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do think it is never going to set; here we have been hunting, hunting +all the day, and got nothing for our pains.” +</p> + +<p> +“You forget the hare and the rabbit here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Toss them to the dogs. Here, Bran, you brute, take this hare your +masters have been hunting all day, for your dinner;” and as he spoke he +tossed the solitary victim of his own prowess in the chase to the huge +wolfhound, which made a speedy meal upon the hare, while Alfred threw the +rabbit to the other of their two canine companions. +</p> + +<p> +“I would almost as soon have lost this holiday, and spent the time with +Father Cuthbert, to be bored by his everlasting talk about our duties, and +forced to repeat ‘<i>hic, hæc, hoc</i>,’ till my head ached. What +a long homily <a href="#EndNoteA2sym" name="EndNoteA2anc"><sup>ii</sup></a> he +preached us this morning —and then that long story about the +saint.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are out of spirits. Father Cuthbert’s tales are not so bad, +after all you seemed to like the legend he told us the other night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, about our ancestor Sebbald and his glorious death; there was +something in that tale worth hearing; it stirred the blood—none of your +moping saints, that Sebbald.” +</p> + +<p> +“I once heard another legend from Father Cuthbert, about the burning of +Croyland Abbey, and how the abbot stood, saying mass at the altar, without +flinching or even turning his head, when the Danes, having fired the place, +broke into the chapel. Do you not think it wanted more bravery to do that in +cold blood than to stand firm in all the excitement of a battle?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are made to be a monk, Alfred, and I daresay, if you get the chance, +will be a martyr, and get put in the calendar by-and-by. I suppose they will +keep your relics here in the priory church, and you will be St. Alfred of +Æscendune; for me, I would sooner die as the old sea kings loved to die, +surrounded by heaps of slain, with my sword broken in my hand.” +</p> + +<p> +It was at this moment that their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a +loud crashing of boughs in the adjacent underwood, a rush as of some wild +beast, a loud cry in boyish tones—“Help! help! the wolf! the +wolf!” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric jumped up in an instant, and rushed forward heedless of danger, followed +closely by his younger brother, who was scarcely less eager to render immediate +assistance. +</p> + +<p> +The cries for help became more and more piercing, as if some pressing danger +menaced the utterer. Elfric, who, in spite of his flippant speech, was by no +means destitute of keen sympathies and self devotion, hurried forward, fearless +of danger, bounding through thicket and underwood, until, arriving upon a small +clearing, the whole scene flashed upon him. +</p> + +<p> +A huge grey wolf, wounded and bleeding, was about to rush for the second time +upon a youth in hunting costume, whose broken spear, broken in the first +encounter with the beast he had disturbed, seemed to deprive him of all chance +of success in the desperate encounter evidently impending. His trembling limbs +showed his extreme apprehension, and the sweat stood in huge drops on his +forehead; his eyes were fixed upon the beast as if he were fascinated, while +the shaft of his spear, presented feebly against the coming onslaught, showed +that he had lost his self possession, for he neglected the bow and arrows which +were slung at his side—if indeed there was time to use them. +</p> + +<p> +The beast sprang, but as he did so another spear was stoutly presented to meet +him, and he literally impaled himself in his eager spring on the weapon of +Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +Still, such was his weight that the boy fell backward beneath the mighty rush, +and such the tenacity of life that, though desperately wounded, even to death, +the beast sought the prostrate lad with teeth and claws, in frantic fury, until +a blow from the hunting knife, which Elfric well knew how to use, laid the wolf +lifeless at his side. +</p> + +<p> +Breathless, but not severely injured, he rose from the ground covered with +blood; his garments torn, his face reddened by exertion, and paused a moment, +while he seemed to strive to repress the wild beatings of his heart, which +bounded as if it would burst its prison. +</p> + +<p> +But far more exhausted was the other combatant, yet scarcely so much by +exertion as by fear, of which he still bore the evident traces. After a few +moments he broke the silence, and his words seemed incoherent. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is my horse? the beast threw me—I wish the wolves may get +him—I fear you are hurt; not much, I hope; where can those serfs be? Fine +vassals, to desert their master in peril. I’ll have them hung. But, by +St. Cuthbert, you are all covered with blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis that of the wolf, then, for I have scarcely a scratch: one of +the beast’s claws ripped up my sleeve, and the skin with it; that was all +he could do before he felt the cold steel between his ribs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a moment too soon, or he would have killed you before we could +interfere; why, as you rolled together, I could hardly see which was boy and +which was wolf. But where’s my horse? Did you see a white horse rush past +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“We heard a rush as of some wild animal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wild enough. I was riding through the glade, and my attendants were on +in front, when we stumbled on this wolf, crouched under that thicket. The horse +started so violently that it threw me almost upon the monster you have +killed.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the speaker paused, and blew impatient blasts upon a horn which had been +slung round his neck. They were soon answered, and some attendants, dressed in +semi-hunting costume, made their appearance with haste and confusion, which +showed their apprehensions. +</p> + +<p> +“Guthred! Eadmer! Why did you get so far away from me? I might have been +killed. Look at this monstrous wolf; why, its teeth are dreadful. It broke my +spear, and would have had me down, but for this—this youth. +</p> + +<p> +“I forgot, I haven’t asked to whom I am indebted. Aren’t you +two brothers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Our father is the Thane of Æscendune. His hall is not far from here. +Will you not go home with us? We have plenty of room for you and yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure I will. Æscendune? I have heard the name: I can’t +remember where. Have you horses?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; we were hunting on foot, and expecting to let fly our shafts at some +deer. May I ask, in return, the name of our guest?” +</p> + +<p> +Before the youth could answer, one of the attendants strode forward, and with +an air of importance replied, “You are about to receive the honour of a +visit from the future lord of Britain, Prince Edwy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Keep your lips closed till I give you leave to open them, Guthred. You +may leave me to announce myself. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be only too glad to go with you both; and these two huntsmen +deserve to be left in the forest to the mercy of your wolves.” +</p> + +<p> +Somewhat startled to find that they had saved the future Basileus or King of +Britain—the hope of the royal line of Cerdic —the brothers led +their guest through the darkening forest until the distant light of a clearing +appeared in the west, and they emerged from the shadow of the trees upon the +brow of a gentle hill. +</p> + +<p> +Below them lay the castle (if such it should be called) of their father the +Thane of Æscendune. Utterly unlike the castellated buildings which, at a later +period, formed the dwellings of the proud Norman nobility, it was a low +irregular building, the lower parts of which were of stone, and the upper +portions, when there was a second story, of thick timber from the forest. +</p> + +<p> +A river, from which the evening mist was slowly rising, lay beyond, and +supplied water to a moat which surrounded the edifice, for in those troublous +times few country dwellings lacked such necessary protection. The memory of the +Danish invasions was too recent; the marauders of either nation still lurked in +the far recesses of the forest, and plundered the Saxon inhabitant or the +Danish settler indiscriminately, as occasion served. +</p> + +<p> +On the inner side of the moat a strong palisade of timber completed the +defence. One portal, opening upon a drawbridge, formed the sole apparent means +of ingress or egress. +</p> + +<p> +Passing the drawbridge unquestioned, the boys entered the courtyard, around +which the chief apartments were grouped. Before them a flight of stone steps +led to the great hall where all the members of the community took their meals +in common, and where, around the great fire, they wiled away the slow hours of +a winter evening. +</p> + +<p> +On each side of the great hall stood the bowers, as the small dormitories were +called, furnished very simply for the use of the higher domestics with small +round tables, common stools, and beds in recesses like boxes or cupboards. Such +were commonly the only sleeping chambers, but at Æscendune, as generally in +the halls of the rich, a wide staircase conducted to a gallery above, from each +side of which opened sleeping and sitting apartments allotted to the use of the +family. It was only in the houses of the wealthy that such an upper floor was +found. +</p> + +<p> +On the right hand, as they entered the courtyard, stood the private chapel of +the household, where mass was said by the chaplain, to whom allusion has been +already made, as the first duty of the day, and where each night generally saw +the household again assembled for compline or evening prayers.<a +href="#EndNoteA3sym" name="EndNoteA3anc"><sup>iii</sup></a> On the left hand +were domestic offices. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the steps of his hall stood Ella, the Thane of Æscendune, the +representative of a long line of warlike ancestors, who had occupied the soil +since the Saxon conquest of Mercia. +</p> + +<p> +He was clad in a woollen tunic reaching to the knee, over which a cloak +fastened by a clasp of gold was loosely thrown; and his feet were clad in black +pointed boots, while strips of painted leather were wound over red stockings +from the knee to the ankle. +</p> + +<p> +“You are late, my sons,” he said, “and I perceive you have +brought us a visitor. He is welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” said Elfric, in a voice somewhat expressive of awe, +“it is Prince Edwy!” +</p> + +<p> +The thane had in his earlier days been at court, and had known the murdered +Edmund, the royal father of his guest, intimately. It was not without emotion, +therefore, that he welcomed the son to his home, and saluted him with that +manly yet reverential homage their relative positions required of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Welcome, thrice welcome, my prince,” he said, “to these +humble halls.” He added, with some emotion, “I could think the +royal Edmund stood before me, as I knew him while yet myself a youth.” +</p> + +<p> +The domestics, who had assembled, gazed upon their visitor with country +curiosity, yet were not wanting in rude but expressive courtesy; and soon he +was conducted to the best chamber the house afforded, where change of raiment +and every comfort within the reach of his host was provided, while the cooks +were charged to make sumptuous additions to the approaching supper. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/> +THE HOUSE OF ÆSCENDUNE.</h2> + +<p> +The earlier fortunes of the house of Æscendune must here obtrude themselves +upon the notice of the reader, in order that he may more easily comprehend the +subsequent pages of our veritable history. +</p> + +<p> +Sebbald, the remote ancestor of the family, was amongst the earliest Saxon +conquerors of Mercia. He fell in battle with the Britons, or Welshmen as our +ancestors called them, leaving sons valiant as their sire, to whom were given +the fertile lands lying between the river Avon and the mighty midland forests, +to which they gave the name “Æscendune.” +</p> + +<p> +They had held their own for three hundred years with varying fortunes; once or +twice home and hearth were desolated by the fierce tide of Danish invasion, but +the wars subsided, and the old family resumed its position, amidst the joy of +their dependants and serfs, to whom they were endeared by a thousand memories +of past benefits. +</p> + +<p> +But a generation only had passed since the shadow of a great woe fell on the +family of Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +Offa, who was then the thane, had two sons, Oswald the elder, and Ella the +younger, with whom our readers are already acquainted. +</p> + +<p> +The elder possessed few of the family virtues save brute courage. He was ever +rebellious, even in boyhood, and arrived at man’s estate in the midst of +unsettled times of war and tumult. Weary of the restraints of home, he joined a +band of Danish marauders, and shared their victories, enriching himself with +the spoils of his own countrymen. Thus he remained an outlaw, for his father +disowned him in consequence of his crime, until, fighting against his own +people in the great battle of Brunanburgh, <a href="#EndNoteA4sym" +name="EndNoteA4anc"><sup>iv</sup></a> where Athelstane so gloriously conquered +the allied Danes, Scots, and Welsh, he was taken prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +The victor king sat in judgment upon the recreant, surrounded by his chief +nobility and vassal kings. The guilt of the prisoner was evident, nay undenied, +and the respect in which his sire was held alone delayed the doom of a cruel +death from being pronounced upon him. +</p> + +<p> +While the council yet deliberated, Offa appeared amongst them, and, like a +second Brutus, took his place amongst his peers. Disclaiming all personal +interest in the matter, he sternly proposed that the claims of justice should +be satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +Yet they hesitated to shed Oswald’s blood: the alternative they adopted +was perhaps not more merciful—although a common doom in those times. They +selected a crazy worm-eaten boat, and sent the criminal to sea, without sail, +oar, or rudder, with a loaf of bread and cruse of water, the wind blowing +freshly from off the land. +</p> + +<p> +Oswald was never heard of again; but after his supposed death, information was +brought to his father that the outlaw had been married to a Danish woman, and +had left a son—an orphan—for the mother died in childbirth. +</p> + +<p> +Offa resolved to seek the boy, and to adopt him, as if in reparation for the +past. The effort he had made had cost him a bitter pang, and the father’s +heart was well-nigh broken. For a time the inquiries were unsuccessful. It was +discovered that the mother was dead, that she had died before the tragedy, but +not a word could be learned respecting the boy, and many had begun to doubt his +existence, when, after years had elapsed, one of the executioners of the cruel +doom deposed on his deathbed that a boy of some ten summers had appeared on the +beach, had called the victim “father,” and had so persistently +entreated to share his doom, that they had allowed him to do so, but had +concealed the fact, rightly fearing blame, if not punishment. The priest who +had attended his dying bed, and heard his last confession, bore the tidings to +Offa at the penitent’s desire. +</p> + +<p> +The old thane never seemed to lift up his head again: the sacrifice his sense +of duty had exacted from him had been too great for a heart naturally full of +domestic affection, and he sank and died after a few months in the arms of his +younger and beloved son Ella. +</p> + +<p> +The foundation of the neighbouring priory and church of St. Wilfred had been +the consolation of his later years, but the work was only half completed at his +death. It was carried on with equal zeal by Ella, now the Thane of Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +He married Edith, the daughter of a rich thane of Wessex, and the marriage +proved a most happy one. +</p> + +<p> +Sincerely religious, after the fashion of their day, they honoured God with +their substance, enriched the church of St. Wilfred, where the dust of the aged +Offa awaited the resurrection of the just, and continued the labour of building +the priory. Day after day they were constant in their attendance at mass and +evensong, and strove to live as foster parents to their dependants and serfs. +</p> + +<p> +The chief man in his hundred, Ella acted as reeve or magistrate, holding his +court for the administration of justice each month, and giving such just +judgment as became one who had the fear of God before him. No appeal was ever +made from him to the ealdorman (earl) or scirgerefa (sheriff) and the wisdom +and mercy of his rule were universally renowned. +</p> + +<p> +His land was partly cultivated by his own theows, who were in those days slaves +attached to the soil, and partly let out to free husbandmen (or ceorls) who +owed their lord rent in kind or in money, and paid him, as “his +men,” feudal service. +</p> + +<p> +Around his hospitable board the poor of the district found sustenance, while +work was made for all in draining meres, mending roads, building the priory, or +in the various agricultural labours of the year. +</p> + +<p> +In the first year of King Edmund the lady Edith presented her lord with his +first-born son, to whom in baptism they gave the name Elfric, and a year later +Alfred was born, and named after the great king. One daughter, named Edgitha, +completed the fruits of their happy union, and in their simple fashion they +strove to train their children in the fear of the Lord. +</p> + +<p> +We will now resume the thread of our story. +</p> + +<p> +It was now the hour of eventide, and the time for “laying the +board” drew near. From forest and field came in ceorl and theow, hanging +up their weapons or agricultural implements around the lower end of the hall. +Meanwhile the domestics brought in large tressels, and then huge heavy boards, +which they arranged so as to form the dining table, shaped like the letter T, +the upper portion being furnished with the richest dainties for the family and +their guest, the lower with simpler fare for the dependents. +</p> + +<p> +A wild boar caught in the forest formed the chief dish, and was placed at the +upper end, while mutton and beef; dressed in various ways, flanked it on either +side. +</p> + +<p> +The thane, Ella, occupied the central seat at the high table: his chair, rudely +carved, had borne the weight of his ancestors before him; on his left hand was +seated the once lovely Edith. Age had deprived her of her youthful beauty, but +not of the sweet expression which told of her gentleness and purity of heart; +they had left their impress on each line of her speaking countenance; and few +left her presence unimpressed with respect and esteem. +</p> + +<p> +On his right hand sat Prince Edwy, “Edwy the fair” men called him, +and right well he deserved the name. His face was one which inspired interest +at a glance: his large blue eyes, his golden hair which floated over his +shoulders, his sweet voice, his graceful bearing, all united to impress the +beholders. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric, Alfred, and their sister Edgitha, completed the company at the high +table. +</p> + +<p> +The hungry crowd of ceorls and serfs, who were, as we have said, fresh from +field or forest, sat at the lower table, which was spread with huge joints of +roasted meat, loaves of bread, wedges of cheese, piles of cabbage or other +vegetables, rolls or coils of broiled eels, and huge pieces of boiled pork or +bacon. +</p> + +<p> +Around the table sat the hounds and other dogs, open jawed, waiting such good +luck as they might hope to receive at the hands of their masters, while many +“loaf eaters,” as the serfs were called who fed at their +master’s table, stood with the dogs, or sat on the rush-strewn floor, for +want of room at the board. +</p> + +<p> +It was marvellous to see how the food disappeared, as hand after hand was +stretched out to the dishes, in the absence of forks—a modern +invention—and huge horns of ale helped the meat downwards. +</p> + +<p> +Game, steaks of beef and venison on spits, were handed round. The choicer +joints were indeed reserved for the upper board, but profusion was the rule +everywhere throughout the hall, and there was probably not a serf; nay, not +even a dog, whose appetite was not fully satisfied before the end of the feast. +</p> + +<p> +The prince seemed thoroughly to have recovered his spirits, somewhat damped +perhaps before by his adventure with the wolf; and exerted his talents to make +himself agreeable. He had seen life on an extended scale, young as he was, and +his anecdotes of London and the court, if a little wild, were still +interesting. Elfric and Alfred listened to his somewhat random talk, with that +respect boys ever pay to those who have seen more of the wide world than +themselves—a respect perhaps heightened by the high rank of their +princely guest, who was, however, only a month or two older than Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +As they heard of the marvels of London, and of the court, home and its +attractions seemed to become dim by comparison, and Elfric especially longed to +share such happiness. +</p> + +<p> +Their father seemed to wish to change the conversation, as he asked the prince +whether he had been long in Mercia. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy replied, “Nay, my host; this is almost my first day of perfect +freedom, and I only left London, and my uncle the king, a few days back. +Dunstan has gone down to Glastonbury, for which the Saints be thanked, and I am +released for a few days from poring over the musty old manuscripts to which he +dooms me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is well, my prince, that you should have a preceptor so well +qualified to instruct you in the arts your great ancestor King Alfred so nobly +adorned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah yes, Alfred,” said Edwy, yawning; “but you know we +can’t all be saints or heroes like him: for my part, I sometimes wish he +had never lived.” +</p> + +<p> +The astonished looks of the company seemed to demand further explanation. +</p> + +<p> +“Because it is always, ‘Alfred did this,’ and ‘Alfred +did that.’ If I am tired of ‘<i>hic, hæc, hoc</i>,’ I am +told Alfred was never weary; if I complain of a headache, Dunstan says Alfred +never complained of pain or illness, but bore all with heroic fortitude, and +all the rest of it. If I want a better dinner than my respected uncle gives us +on fast days in the palace, I am told Alfred never ate anything beyond a +handful of parched corn on such days; if I lose my temper, I am told Alfred +never lost his; and so on, till I get sick of his name; and here it greets me +in the woods of Mercia.” +</p> + +<p> +“I crave pardon, my liege,” said Ella, who hardly knew whether to +smile or frown at the sarcastic petulance of his guest, who went on with a sly +smile—“And now old Dunstan does not know where I am. He left me +with a huge pile of books in musty Latin, or crabbed English, and I had to read +this and to write that, as if I were no prince, but a scrivener, and had to get +my living by my pen; but as soon as he was gone I had a headache, and persuaded +my venerable uncle the king, through the physician, that I needed change of +air.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what will Dunstan say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he must fight it out with Sigebert the leech, and Sigebert knows +which side his bread is buttered.” +</p> + +<p> +The whole tone of Edwy indicated plainly that the headache was but a pretence, +but he spoke with such sly simplicity that the boys could not help joining in +his contagious laughter; sympathising, doubtless, in his love of a holiday in +the woods. +</p> + +<p> +“Your headache is not gone yet, I trust, my prince,” said Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” said Edwy, turning his eyes upon him with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Because we have splendid woods near here for hunting, and I must +have” (he whispered these words into Edwy’s ear) “a headache, +too.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy quite understood the request conveyed in these words, and turning to the +old thane requested him to allow his boys to join the sport on the morrow as a +kind of bodyguard, adding some very complimentary words on the subject of +Elfric’s courage shown in the rescue that afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes,” said the old thane, “I have always tried to bring +up the boys so as to fear neither man nor beast, and Elfric did indifferently +well in the tussle. So he has earned a holiday for himself and brother, with +Father Cuthbert’s leave,” and Ella turned to the ecclesiastic. +</p> + +<p> +“They are good boys,” said the priest, “only, my lord, Elfric +is somewhat behind in his studies.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric’s looks expressed his contempt of the “studies,” but +he dared not express the feeling before his father. +</p> + +<p> +“But I trust, my prince,” said Ella, “that we shall not keep +you from your duties at court. Dunstan is a severe, although a holy man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he is gone to have another encounter with the Evil One at +Glastonbury, and is fashioning a pair of tongs for the purpose,” said +Edwy, alluding to the legend already current amongst the credulous populace; +“and I wish,” he muttered, “the Evil One would get the best +of it and fly away with him. But” (in a louder tone) “he cannot +return for a month, which means a month’s holiday for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Ella could interpose no further objection, although scarcely satisfied with the +programme. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation here became general. It turned upon the subject of hunting and +war, and the enthusiasm of young Edwy quite captivated the thane, who seemed to +see Edmund, the father of the young prince, before his eyes, as he had known +him in his own impetuous youth. Dear, indeed, had that prince been to Ella, +both before and after his elevation to the throne, and as he heard the sweet +boyish voice of Edwy, his thoughts were guided by memory to that ill-omened +feast at Pucklechurch, where the vindictive outlaw Leolf had murdered his king. +The sword of Ella had been amongst those which avenged the crime on the +murderer, but they could not call back the vital spark which had fled. +“Edmund the Magnificent,” as they loved to call him, was dead. <a +href="#EndNoteA5sym" name="EndNoteA5anc"><sup>v</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +So, as Ella listened, he could hardly help condoning the wild speeches of the +young prince in deference to the memory of the past. +</p> + +<p> +And now they removed the festive board from the hall, while kneeling serfs +offered basin and towel to the thane and his guest to wash their hands. Wine +began to circulate freely in goblets of wood inlaid with gold or silver; the +clinking of cups, the drinking of healths and pledges opened the revel, +cupbearers poured out the wine. The glee-wood (harp) was introduced, while +pipes, flutes, and soft horns accompanied its strains. So they sang— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Here Athelstane king,<br/> +Of earls the lord,<br/> +To warriors the ring-giver<br/> +Glory world-long<br/> +Had won in the strife,<br/> +By edge of the sword,<br/> +At Brunanburgh. +</p> + +<p> +And Ella—who had stood by his father’s side in that dread field +where Danes, Scots, and Welshmen fled before the English sword—listened +with enthusiasm, till he thought of his brother Oswald, when tears, unobserved, +rolled down his cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Not so with the boys. They had no secret sorrow to hide, and they listened like +those whose young blood boils at the thought of mighty deeds, and longed to +imitate them. And when the gleeman finished his lengthy flight of music and +poesy, they applauded him till the roof rang again. +</p> + +<p> +Song followed song, legend legend, the revelry grew louder, while the lady +Edith, with her daughter, retired to their bower, where they employed their +needles on delicate embroidery. A representation in bright colours of the +consecration of the church of St. Wilfred occupied the hands of the little +Edgitha, while her mother wove sacred pictures to serve as hangings for the +sanctuary of the priory church. +</p> + +<p> +But soon the tolling of the bell announced that it was the compline hour, nine +o’clock, and that hour was never allowed to pass unobserved at +Æscendune, but formed the termination of the labour or the feast, after which +it was customary for the whole household to retire, as well they might who rose +with the early dawn. +</p> + +<p> +Neither was it passed by on this occasion, although the boys looked very +disappointed, for they would fain have listened to song or legend till +midnight, if not later. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my children,” said the thane; “we must rise early, so +let us all commit ourselves to the keeping of God and His holy angels, and seek +our pillows.” +</p> + +<p> +So the whole party repaired to the chapel, where the chaplain said the compline +office or night song, after which Ella saluted his royal guest with reverent +affection, and bestowed his paternal benediction upon his children. Then the +whole party separated for the night. +</p> + +<p> +The household was speedily buried in sleep, save the solitary sentinel who +paced around the building. Not that danger was apprehended from any source, but +precaution had become habitual in those days of turmoil. Occasionally the howl +of the wolf was heard from the woods, and the sleepers half awoke, then dreamt +of the chase as the night flew by. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/> +LEAVING HOME.</h2> + +<p> +The sun arose in a bright and cloudless sky on the following morning, and his +first beams aroused every sleeper in the hall of Æscendune from his couch of +straw, for softer material was seldom or never used for repose. Even the +chamber in which the prince slept could not be called luxurious: the bed was in +a box-like recess; its coverlets, worked richly by the fair hands of the +ladies, who had little other occupation, covered a mattress which even modern +schoolboys would call rough and uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +The wind played with the tapestry which represented the history of Joseph and +his brethren, as it found its way in through crevices in the ill-built walls. +There were two or three stools over which the thane’s care for his guest +had caused coverlets to be thrown; a round table of rough construction stood +like a tripod on three legs, upon which stood the unwonted luxury of ewer and +basin, for most people had to perform their ablutions at the nearest convenient +well or spring. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving this chamber in good time, Prince Edwy acompanied his new friends to +the priory church, where they heard mass before the sun was high in the +heavens, after which they returned to the hall to take a light breakfast before +they sought the attractions of the chase in the forest. Full of life they +mounted their horses, and galloped in the wild exuberance of animal spirits +with their dogs through the leafy arches of the forest, startling the red deer, +the wolf, or the wild boar. Soon they roused a mighty individual of the latter +tribe, who turned to bay, when the boys dismounted and finished the affair with +their boar spears, not without some personal danger, and the loss of a couple +of dogs. +</p> + +<p> +Onward again they swept, past leafy glades of beech trees, where the swineherd +drove his half-tame charges, or where the woodcutters plied their toil, and +loaded their rude carts or hand barrows with fuel for the kitchen of the hall; +past rookeries, where the birds made the air lively by their noise; over brook, +through the half-dry marsh, until they came upon an old wolf; whom they +followed and slew for want of better game, not without a desperate struggle, in +which Elfric, ever the foremost, got a much worse scratch than on the preceding +day. +</p> + +<p> +But how enjoyable the sport was, how sweet to breathe the bright pure air of +that May day; how grand to outstrip the wind over the yielding turf, and at +last to carry home the trophies of their prowess; the scalp of the wolf, the +tusks of the boar, leaving the serfs to bring in the succulent flesh of the +latter, while the hawks and crows fed upon the former. +</p> + +<p> +And then with what appetite they sat down to their “noon meat,” +taken, however, at the late hour of three, after which they wandered down to +the river and angled for the trout which abounded in the clear stream. +</p> + +<p> +The youthful reader will not wonder that such attractions sufficed to detain +Edwy several days, during which he was continually hunting in the adjacent +forests, always attended by Elfric, and sometimes by Alfred. To the elder +brother he seemed to have conceived a real liking, and expressed great +reluctance to part with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Could you not return with me to court,” he said, “and +relieve the tedium of old Dunstan’s society? You cannot think what +pleasures London affords; it is life there indeed—it is true there are no +forests like these, but then, in the winter, when the country is so dreary, the +town is the place.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father will never consent to my leaving home,” returned Elfric, +who inwardly felt his heart was with the prince. +</p> + +<p> +“We might overcome that. I am to have a page. You might be nominally my +page, really my companion; and should I ever be king, you would find you had +not served me in vain.” +</p> + +<p> +The idea had got such strong possession of the mind of Edwy, that he ventilated +it the same night at the supper table, but met with scant encouragement. Still +he did not despair; for, as he told Elfric, the influence of his royal uncle, +King Edred, might be hopefully exerted on their joint behalf. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean to get you to town,” he said. “I shall persuade my +old uncle, who is more a monk than a king, that you are dreadfully pious, +attached to monkish Latin, and all that sort of thing, so that he will long to +get you to town, if it is only to set an example to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if he does not find that I answer his expectations?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it will be too late to alter then; you will be comfortably installed +in the palace; and, between you and me, he is but old and feeble, and has +always had a disease of some kind. I expect he will soon die, and then who will +be king save Edwy, and who in England shall be higher than his friend +Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +It was a brilliant prospect, as it seemed to boys of fifteen, for such was the +mature age of the speakers. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after the last conversation, an express came from the court to seek the +young prince—the messenger had been long delayed from ignorance of the +present abode of Edwy, who had carefully concealed the secret until he felt he +could tarry no longer, fearing the wrath not only of the king, but of Dunstan, +whom he dreaded yet more than his uncle. +</p> + +<p> +So he and his attendants, who had, like him, found pleasant entertainment at +Æscendune, bade farewell to the home where he had been so hospitably +entertained: and so ended a visit, pregnant with the most important results, +then utterly unforeseen and unintended, to the family he had honoured by his +presence. +</p> + +<p> +Some few weeks passed, and under the tuition of their chaplain, who was charged +with their education, Elfric and Alfred had returned to their usual course of +life. +</p> + +<p> +It would seem somewhat a hard one to a lover of modern ease. They rose early, +as we have already seen, and before breaking their fast went with their father +and most of the household to the early mass at the monastery of St. Wilfred, +returned to an early meal, and then worked hard, on ordinary occasions at their +Latin, and such other studies as were pursued in that primitive age of England. +The midday meal was succeeded by somewhat severe bodily exercise, generally +hunting the boar or wolf which still abounded in the forests, an excitement not +unattended by danger, which, however, their father would never permit them to +shun. He knew full well the importance of personal courage at an age when the +dangers of hunting were only initiatory to the stern duties of war, and no +Englishman could shun the latter when his country called upon him to take up +arms. Nor were martial exercises unknown to the boys; the bow, it is true, was +somewhat neglected then in England, but the use of sword, shield, and +battle-axe was daily inculcated. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Si vis pacem</i>,” Father Cuthbert said on such occasions, +“<i>para arma.</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Wearied by their exertions, whether at home or abroad, the brothers welcomed +the evening social meal, and the rest which followed, when old Saxon legend or +the harp of the gleeman enlivened the household fire, till compline sweetly +closed the day. +</p> + +<p> +Swiftly and pleasantly were passing the weeks succeeding the visit of the +prince, when a royal messenger appeared, bearing a letter sealed with the +king’s signet. The old thane, who had passed his youth in more troublous +times, and could scarcely read the Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels, then +extant, could not construe the monkish Latin in which it was King Edred’s +good pleasure to write. +</p> + +<p> +So the chaplain, Cuthbert, read him the letter in which the king greeted his +loyal and well-beloved subject, Ella of Æscendune, and begged of him, as a +great favour, that he would send his eldest boy to court, to be the companion +of the young prince, who had (the king said) conceived a great affection for +Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“I hear,” added Edred, “that your boy is a boy after his +father’s heart, full of love for the saints, diligent in his studies, and +I trust well qualified to amend by example the somewhat giddy ways of my +nephew.” +</p> + +<p> +Ella felt that this latter commendation might be better bestowed upon Alfred, +who, although far less full of boyish spirit and energy than his brother, was +far more attached to his religious duties, as also far more attentive to the +wishes of his parents; but his love for Elfric blinded him to more serious +defects in the character of his son, or he might have feared their development +in a congenial soil. +</p> + +<p> +So the father saw his boy alone, and communicated the contents of the letter. +The news was indeed welcome to Elfric, who panted for travel and adventure and +the freedom he fancied he should get in Edwy’s society. But Ella hardly +perceived this, and enlarged upon the dangers to which his son would be +exposed, and tried to put before the boy all the “pros “ and +“cons” of the question faithfully. +</p> + +<p> +“He would not keep him back,” he said, “if he desired to +leave home,” but as he uttered the words he felt his heart very heavy, +for Æscendune would lose half its brightness in losing Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +But Elfric’s choice was already made, and he only succeeded in repressing +his delight with great difficulty, in deference to the serious aspect and words +of his revered sire. But his decision, for it was left to him, was unchanged, +and he stammered forth his desire to be a man, and to see the world, in words +mingled with expressions of his deep love for his parents, which he was sure +nothing could ever change. +</p> + +<p> +Strange to say, now that the parental consent was gained, and no obstacle lay +between him and the accomplishment of his ardent wish, he did not feel half so +happy as he had expected to feel. Home affections seemed to increase as the +hours rushed by which were to be his last in the bosom of his family; every +familiar object became precious as the thought arose that it might be seen for +the last time; favourites, both men and animals, had to be bidden farewell. +There was the old forester, the gleeman, the warder, the gardener, the +chamberlain, the cellarius, the cook (not an unimportant personage in Saxon +households), the foster mother, his old nurse, and many a friend in the +village. Then there were his favourite dogs, his pony, some pigeons he had +reared; and all had some claim on his affection, home nurtured as he had been +in a most kindly household. +</p> + +<p> +But the appointed day came, the horse which was to bear him away stood at the +door, another horse loaded with his personal effects stood near, for carriages +were then unknown, neither would the roads have permitted their use, so changed +were the times since the Roman period. +</p> + +<p> +His father and mother, his brother and sister, stood without the drawbridge, +where the last goodbye took place; tears started unbidden to his eyes—he +was only fifteen—as he heard the parting blessing, and as his mother +pressed him to her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred and his sister Edith seemed almost broken hearted at the parting. But +Elfric tried to bear up, and the end came. +</p> + +<p> +The little cavalcade left the castle, two attendants, well armed and mounted, +being his bodyguard. +</p> + +<p> +Again and again he looked back; and when, after a journey of two miles, the +envious woods closed in, and hid the dear familiar home from his sight, a +strange sense of desolation rushed upon him, as if he were alone in the world. +</p> + +<p> +The route taken by the cavalcade led them in the first place to Warwick, even +then a flourishing Saxon town: this was the limit of Elfric’s previous +wanderings, and when they left it for the south, the whole country was strange +to him. +</p> + +<p> +The royal messenger had business at the cathedral city of Dorchester, at the +junction of the Tame and Isis, and they did not take the more direct route by +the Watling Street, the most perfect Roman road remaining. The land was but +thinly peopled, forests covered the greater portion, and desolate marshes much +of the remainder; thus, through alternate forest and marsh, the travellers +advanced along the ruinous remains of an old Roman crossroad, which had once +afforded good accommodation to travellers, but had been suffered to fall into +utter ruin and decay by the neglect of their successors, our own barbarous +ancestors. +</p> + +<p> +Originally it had been paved with stone, and causeways had been formed over +marsh and mere, but the stones had been taken away, for the road formed the +most accessible quarry in the neighbourhood. Here and there, however, it was +still good, surviving the wear of centuries, and even the old mileposts of iron +were still existing covered with rust, with the letters denoting so many Roman +miles—or thousands of paces—still legible. +</p> + +<p> +A few hours’ riding from Warwick brought them at the close of the day in +sight of Beranbyrig (Banbury), where three centuries earlier a bloody battle +had been fought, <a href="#EndNoteA6sym" name="EndNoteA6anc"><sup>vi</sup></a> +wherein success—almost for the last time—visited the British arms, +and saved the Celtic race from expulsion for twenty years. +</p> + +<p> +The spot was very interesting to Elfric, for here his ancestor Sebbald had +fought by the side of the invading king, Cynric, the son of Cerdic, and had +fallen “gloriously” on the field. +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” said Anlaf, the guide, “at that sloping ground which +rises to the northwest. There the Welsh (Britons) stood, formed in nine strong +battalions. In that hollow they placed their archers, and here their javelin +men and cavalry were arranged after the old Roman fashion. Our Englishmen were +all in one battalion, and charged them fiercely, when they were thrown into +confusion by the cunning tricks of the Welsh, who made up in craft what they +wanted in manly courage. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at this brook which flows to the river, it was running with blood +that evening, and our men lay piled in huge heaps where they tried to scale the +hill which you see yonder.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did the Welsh gain the day so easily?” said Elfric, +sorrowfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t wonder; they were fighting for their lives, and even a rat +will fight if you get him into a corner; besides, they had all their best men +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know where Sebbald fell?” said Elfric, referring to his own +ancestor. +</p> + +<p> +“Just under this hillock, close by King Cynric, who fought like a lion to +save the body, but was unable to do so. The Welsh were then gaining the day. +Still, even his foes respected his valour, and gave your forefather a fair and +honourable burial.” +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the battlefield, they entered the Saxon town, which was defended on one +side by the Cherwell, on the other by a mound and palisade, with an outer ditch +supplied by the river. Here they found hospitable entertainment, and left on +the morrow for the town of Kirtlington. +</p> + +<p> +They left Beranbyrig early, and reached the village of Sutthun (King’s +Sutton), where they perceived a great multitude of people collected around a +well at the outskirts of the village. +</p> + +<p> +“What are these people doing?” asked Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do you not know?” replied Anlaf. “This is St. +Rumbald’s well,” and he crossed himself piously. +</p> + +<p> +“Who was St. Rumbald?” asked Elfric innocently. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he was son of the king of Northumbria, and of his queen, the +daughter of the old king Penda of Mercia, and the strange thing is that he is a +saint although he only lived three days.” +</p> + +<p> +“How could that be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why it was a miracle, you see. On the day after his birth he was taken +to Braceleam (Brackley), where he was baptized, and after his baptism he +actually preached an eloquent sermon to the people. They brought him back to +Sutthun next day, where he died, having first blessed this well, so that many +precious gifts of healing are shown thereat. His relics were removed first to +Braceleam, then to Buccingaham (Buckingham), where his shrine is venerated by +the faithful. But come, you must drink of the holy water.” +</p> + +<p> +So they approached the spot, and, after much labour to get at the well, drank +of the water, which had a brackish taste, and proceeded on their journey +southward through Kirtlington, then a considerable city, although now a small +village. It was their intention to pass by the cathedral city of Dorchester, +where Wulfstan was then bishop, where they arrived on the second night of their +journey. +</p> + +<p> +It was the largest city Elfric had as yet seen, possessing several churches, of +which only one now remains. The hand of the ruthless Danes had not yet been +laid heavily upon it, and the magnificence of the sacred fanes, built by +cunning architects from abroad, amazed the Mercian boy. +</p> + +<p> +There was the tomb of the great Birinus, the apostle of Mercia, who had founded +the see in the year 630 A.D., and to whose shrine multitudes of pilgrims +flocked each year. But the remains of Roman greatness most astonished Elfric. +The ruins of the amphitheatre situate near the river Tame were grand even in +their decay, and all the imaginative faculties of the boy were aroused, as one +of the most learned inhabitants described the scenes of former days, of which +tradition had been preserved, the gladiatorial combats, the wild beast fights. +</p> + +<p> +The heir of Æscendune found hospitality at the episcopal palace, where +Wulfstan,<a href="#EndNoteA7sym" name="EndNoteA7anc"><sup>vii</sup></a> once +the turbulent Archbishop of York, held his court. The prelate seemed favourably +impressed with his youthful guest, whom he dismissed with a warm commendation +to Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +They left the city early in the morning, and passed through Bænesington +(Benson), which having been originally taken from the Welsh by the Saxon +chieftain Cuthulf, in the year 571, became the scene of the great victory of +Offa, the Mercian king, over Cynewulf of Wessex in the year 777. One of +Elfric’s ancestors had fought on the side of Offa, and the exploits of +this doughty warrior had formed the subject of a ballad often sung in the +winter evenings at Æscendune, so that Elfric explored the scene with great +curiosity. Inferior to Dorchester, it was still a considerable town. +</p> + +<p> +Late at night they reached Reading, where they slept, and started early on the +morrow for London, where they arrived on the evening of the fourth day. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/> +LONDON IN THE OLDEN TIME.</h2> + +<p> +London, in the days of King Edred, differed widely from the stately and +populous city we know in these days, and almost as widely from the elegant +“<i>Colonia Augusta</i>,” or Londinium, of the Roman period. +Narrow, crooked, and unpaved lanes wound between houses, or rather lowly +cottages, built of timber, and roofed with thatch, so that it is not wonderful +that a conflagration was an event to be dreaded. +</p> + +<p> +Evidence met the eye on every side how utterly the first Englishmen had failed +to preserve the cities they had conquered, and how far inferior they were in +cultivation, or rather civilisation, to the softer race they had so ruthlessly +expelled; for on every side broken pedestal and shattered column appeared +clumsily imbedded in the rude domestic architecture of our forefathers. +</p> + +<p> +St. Paul’s Cathedral rose on the hill once sacred to Diana but was wholly +built within the ruins of the vast temple which had once occupied the site, and +which, magnificent in decay, still surrounded it like an outwork. Further on +were the wrecks of the citadel, where once the stern legionary had watched by +day and night, and where Roman discipline and order had held sway, while the +wall raised by Constantine, broken and imperfect, still rose on the banks of +the river. Near the Ludgate was the palace of the Saxon king, and the ruins of +an aqueduct overshadowed its humbler portal, while without the walls the river +Fleet rolled, amidst vineyards and pleasant meadows dotted with houses, to join +the mighty Thames. +</p> + +<p> +Edred, the reigning king of England, was the brother of the murdered Edmund, +and, in accordance with the custom of the day, had ascended the throne on the +death of his brother, seeing that the two infant sons of the late king, Edwy +and Edgar, were too young to reign, and the idea of hereditary right was not +sufficiently developed in the minds of our forefathers to suggest the notion of +a regency. It must also be remembered that, within certain limits, there was an +elective power in the Witenagemot or Parliament, although generally limited in +its scope to members of the royal family. +</p> + +<p> +Edred was of very delicate constitution, and suffered from an inward disease +which seldom allowed him an interval of rest and ease. Like so many sufferers +he had found his consolation in religion, and the only crime ever laid to his +charge (if it were a crime) was that he loved the Church too much. Still he had +repeatedly proved that he was strong in purpose and will, and the insurgent +Danes who had settled in Northumbria had owned his prowess. In the internal +affairs of his kingdom he was chiefly governed by the advice of the great +ecclesiastic and statesman, with whose name our readers will shortly become +familiar. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the morning after the arrival of Elfric in London, Edwy, the young prince, +and his new companion, sat in a room on the upper floor of the palace, which +had but two floors, and would have been considered in these days very deficient +in architectural beauty. +</p> + +<p> +The window of the room opened upon the river, and commanded a pleasant view of +the woods and meadows on the Surrey side, then almost uninhabited, being +completely unprotected in case of invasion, a contingency never long absent +from the mind in the days of the sea kings. +</p> + +<p> +A table covered with manuscripts, both in Latin and Anglo-Saxon, occupied the +centre of the room, and there Elfric was seated, looking somewhat aimlessly at +a Latin vocabulary, while Edwy was standing listlessly at the window. The +“library,” if it deserved the name, was very unlike a modern +library; books were few, and yet very expensive, so that perhaps there was no +fuller collection in any layman’s house in the kingdom. There were +Alfred’s translations into Anglo-Saxon, the “<i>Chronicle of +Orosius</i>,” or the history of the World; the “<i>History of the +Venerable Bede</i>,” both in his original Latin and in English; Boethius +on the “<i>Consolations of Philosophy</i>;” narratives from ancient +mythology; extracts from the works of St. Augustine and St. Gregory; and the +Apologues or Fables from Æsop.<a href="#EndNoteA8sym" +name="EndNoteA8anc"><sup>viii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, put those stupid books aside,” exclaimed the prince; +“this is your first day in town, and I mean to take a holiday; that surly +old Dunstan should have left word to that effect last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will he not be here soon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he is coming this morning, the old bear, to superintend my +progress, and I wish him joy thereof.” +</p> + +<p> +“What has he given you to do?” inquired Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, a wretched exercise to write out. There, you see it before you; +isn’t it a nuisance?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not very hard, is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think it hard? See whether you can do it!” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric smiled, and wrote out the simple Latin with ease, for he had been well +instructed by Father Cuthbert at Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +He had scarcely finished when a firm step was heard upon the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush,” said Edwy; “here comes Dunstan. Be sure you look +solemn enough,” and he composed his own countenance into an expression of +preternatural gravity. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, and an ecclesiastic in the prime of life entered the room, one +whose mien impressed the beholder with an indefinable awe. +</p> + +<p> +He was dressed in the Benedictine habit, just then becoming common in England, +and his features were those of a man formed by nature to command, while they +reconciled the beholder to the admission of the fact by the sad yet sweet smile +which frequently played on the shapely countenance. He was now in the thirtieth +year of his age, having been born in the first year of King Athelstane, and had +been abbot of Glastonbury for several years, although his services as +counsellor to King Edred had led him to spend much of his time in town, and he +had therefore accepted the general direction of the education of the heir to +the throne. Such was Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +He seemed but little welcome to Edwy, and the benediction with which he greeted +his pupil was but coldly received. +</p> + +<p> +Not appearing to notice this, he mildly said, “You must introduce your +young companion to me, my prince. Am I not right in concluding that I see +before me Elfric, heir to the lands of Æscendune?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric blushed as he bent the knee to the great churchman to receive the +priestly benediction with which he was greeted, but remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Father Cuthbert, whom I knew well years agone, has told me about you, +and your brother Alfred; is not that his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is so named, my father.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad to perceive that my royal pupil has chosen so meet a +companion, for Father Cuthbert speaks well of your learning. You write the +Latin tongue, he tells me, with some little facility.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric feared his powers had been overrated. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust you have resumed your studies after your long holiday,” +continued Dunstan. “Youth is the season for sowing, age for +reaping.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have had a very bad headache,” said Edwy, “and have only +been able to write a page of Latin. Here it is, father.” +</p> + +<p> +And he extended the exercise Elfric had written to the abbot, who looked at the +writing for one moment, and then glanced severely at the prince. The character +was very like his own, but there was a difference. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this your handwriting, Prince Edwy?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. Elfric saw me write it, did you not?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric was not used to falsehood; he could not frame his lips to say +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan observed his confusion, and he turned to the prince with a look in +which contempt seemed to struggle with passive self-possession. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust, Edwy,” he said, “you will remember that the word of +a king is said to be his bond, and so should the word of a prince be if he ever +hopes to reign. I shall give Father Benedict charge to superintend your studies +as usual.” +</p> + +<p> +He wished them a grave good morning, and left the room. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the last sound of his steps had ceased, Edwy turned sharply to +Elfric—“Why did you not say yes at once? Surely you have a +tongue?” +</p> + +<p> +“It has never learnt to lie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh! What is the harm of such a white lie as that would have been? If +you cannot give the credit of a Latin exercise, which you happen to have +written, to your future king, you must be selfish; it is my writing, if you +give it me, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric did not quite see the matter in that light, yet did not care to dispute +the point; but his conscience was ill at ease, and he was glad to change the +subject. +</p> + +<p> +“When can we go out?” he said, for he was anxious to see the city. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not till after the midday meal, and you must see the palace first; +come now.” +</p> + +<p> +So they descended and traversed the various courts of the building; the +dormitories, the great dining hall, the audience chambers where Edred was then +receiving his subjects, who waited in the anteroom, which alone the two boys +ventured to enter. Finally, after traversing several courts and passages, they +reached the guardroom. +</p> + +<p> +Three or four of the “hus-carles” or household guards were here on +duty. But in the embrasure of the window, poring over a map, sat one of very +different mien from the common soldiers, and whose air and manner, no less than +his dress, proclaimed the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Redwald,” said the prince, advancing to the window, “let me +make you acquainted with my friend and companion, Elfric of Æscendune.” +</p> + +<p> +The officer started, as if with some sudden surprise, but it passed away so +quickly that the beholder might fancy the start had only existed in +imagination, as perhaps it did. +</p> + +<p> +“This gallant warrior,” said Edwy to Elfric, “is my friend +and counsellor in many ways; and if he lives there shall not be a thane in +England who shall stand above him. You will soon find out his value, +Elfric.” +</p> + +<p> +“My prince is pleased to flatter his humble servant,” said Redwald. +</p> + +<p> +But Elfric was gazing upon the soldier with feelings he could scarcely analyse. +There was something in his look and the tone of his voice which struck a hidden +chord, and awoke recollections as if of a previous existence. +</p> + +<p> +“Redwald,” as Edwy named him, was tall and dark, with many of the +characteristics of the Danish race about him. His nose was slightly aquiline, +his eyes hid beneath bushy eyebrows, while his massive jaw denoted energy of +character—energy which one instinctively felt was quite as likely to be +exerted for evil as for good. +</p> + +<p> +He was captain of the hus-carles, and had but recently entered the royal +service. Few knew his lineage. He spoke the Anglo-Saxon tongue with great +fluency, and bore testimonials certifying his valour and faithfulness from the +court of Normandy, where the Northmen under Rollo had some half-century earlier +founded a flourishing state, then ruled over by the noble Duke “Richard +the Fearless.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy seemed to be on intimate terms with this soldier of fortune; in fact, with +all his proud anticipation of his future greatness, he was never haughty to his +inferiors, perhaps we should say seldom, for we shall hereafter note exceptions +to this rule. It would be a great mistake to suppose that the pomp and ceremony +of our Norman kings was shared by their English predecessors: the manners and +customs of the court of Edred were simplicity itself. +</p> + +<p> +After a few moments of private conversation with Redwald, the boys returned to +their chamber to prepare for dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“You noted that man,” said Edwy; “well, I don’t know +how I should live without him.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric’s looks expressed surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“You will find out by and by; you have little idea how strictly we are +kept here, and how much one is indebted to one’s servants for the gift of +liberty, especially in Lent and on fast days, when one does not get half enough +to eat, and must sometimes escape the gloom and starvation of the +palace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Starvation?” +</p> + +<p> +“What else do you call it, when you get nothing but fish, fish, fish, and +bread and water to help it down. My uncle is awfully religious. I can hardly +stand it sometimes. He would like to spend half the day in chapel, but, happily +for all the rest of us, the affairs of state are too urgent for that, so we do +get a little breathing time, or else I should have to twist my mouth all of one +side singing dolorous chants and tunes which are worse than a Danish war whoop, +for he likes, he says, to hear the service hearty.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it helps you on with your Latin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much of that, for I sing anything that comes into my head; the +singing men make such a noise, they can hear no one else, and I fancy they +don’t know what a word of the Latin prayers means.” +</p> + +<p> +“But isn’t it irreverent—too irreverent, I mean. Father +Cuthbert made me afraid to mock God, he told such stories about +judgment.” +</p> + +<p> +“All fudge and nonsense—oh, I beg your pardon, it is all very godly +and pious, and really I expect to be greatly edified by your piety in chapel. +Pray, when shall you be canonised?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric could not bear ridicule, and blushed for the second time that morning. +Just then the bell rang for dinner, or rather was struck with a mallet by the +master of the ceremonies. +</p> + +<p> +King Edred dined that day, as one might say, in the bosom of his family; only +Dunstan was present, besides the boys Edwy, Edgar his younger brother, and +Elfric. It was then that Elfric first saw the younger prince, a pale +studious-looking boy of twelve, but with a very firm and intellectual +expression of countenance. He was a great favourite with Dunstan, whom the boy, +unlike his brother, regarded with the greatest respect and reverence. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation was somewhat stiff; Edred spoke a few kind words to the young +stranger, and then conversed in an undertone with Dunstan, the whole dinner +time; the princes themselves were awed by the presence of their uncle and his +spiritual guide. +</p> + +<p> +But at last, like all other things, it was over, and with feelings of joy the +boys broke forth from the restraint. The whole afternoon was spent in seeing +the sights of London, and they all three, for Edgar accompanied them, returned +to the evening meal, fatigued in body, but in high spirits. Compline in the +royal chapel terminated the day, as mass had begun it. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/> +TEMPTATION.</h2> + +<p> +But a few days had passed before Elfric learned the secret of Redwald’s +influence over the young prince. +</p> + +<p> +The household of Edred was conducted with the strictest propriety.<a +href="#EndNoteA9sym" name="EndNoteA9anc"><sup>ix</sup></a> All rose with the +lark, and the first duty was to attend at the early mass in the royal chapel. +Breakfast followed, and then the king on ordinary days gave the whole forenoon +to business of state, and he thought it his duty to see that each member of the +royal household had some definite employment, knowing that idleness was the +mother of many evils. So the young princes had their tasks assigned them by +their tutor, as we have already seen, and the spare hours which were saved from +their studies were given to such practice in the use of the national weapons as +seemed necessary to those who might hereafter lead armies, or to gymnastic +exercises which strengthened nerve and muscle for a time of need. +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon they might ride or walk abroad, but a strict interdict was +placed upon certain haunts where temptation might perchance be found, and they +had to return by evensong, which the king generally attended in person when at +home. Then, in winter, indoor recreations till compline, for it was a strict +rule of the king that his nephews should not leave the palace after sundown. +</p> + +<p> +He further caused their tutor, who directed their education under the +supervision of Dunstan—Father Benedict—whom we have already +introduced, to see that they properly discharged all the duties of public and +private devotion. +</p> + +<p> +But he did not see, in the excess of his zeal, that he was really destroying +the prospects which were nearest his heart, and that there can be no more fatal +mistake than to compel the performance of religious duties which exceed the +measure of the youthful capacity or endurance. +</p> + +<p> +With Edgar, who was naturally pious, the system produced no evil result; but +with Edwy the effect was most sad. He had become, as we have seen, deceitful; +and a character, naturally fair, was undermined to an extent which neither the +king nor Dunstan suspected. +</p> + +<p> +The reader may naturally ask how could Dunstan, so astute as he was, make this +mistake, or at least suffer Edred to make it? +</p> + +<p> +The fact was that Dunstan understood the affairs of state better than those of +the heart, and although well fitted for a guide to men of sincere piety, and +capable of opposing to the wicked an iron will and inflexible resolution, he +did not understand the young, and seemed to have forgotten his own youth. +Sincerely truthful and straightforward, he hardly knew whether to feel more +disgust or surprise at Edwy’s evident unfaithfulness. He little knew that +unfaithfulness was only one of his failings, and not the worst. +</p> + +<p> +A few nights after Elfric’s arrival, when the palace gates had been shut +for the night, the compline service said, the household guard posted, and the +boys had retired to their sleeping apartments, he heard a low knock at his +door. He opened it, and Edwy entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you disposed for a pleasant evening, Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +“Such pleasure as there is in sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not mean that. We cannot sleep, like bears in winter, during +all the hours which should be given to mirth. I am going out this evening, and +I want you to go with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Going out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Don’t stand staring there, as if I was talking Latin or +something harder; but get your shoes on again— +</p> + +<p> +“No; you had better come down without shoes; it will make less +noise.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how can we get out? I have not the least idea where you are +going?” +</p> + +<p> +“All in good time. We shall get out easily enough. Are you coming?” +</p> + +<p> +Half fearful, yet not liking to resist the prince, and his curiosity pressing +him to solve the secret, Elfric followed Edwy down the stairs to the lower +hall, where Redwald was on guard. He seemed to await the lads, for he bowed at +once to the prince and proceeded to the outer door, where, at an imperious +signal from him, the warder threw the little inner portal open, and the three +passed out. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the boat ready?” said Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“It is; and trusty rowers await you.” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald led the way to the river’s brink, and there pointed out a skiff +lying at a short distance from the shore. At a signal, the men who manned it +pulled in and received the two youths on board, then pulled at once out into +the stream. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you like an evening on the river?” said Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“It is very beautiful, and the stars are very bright tonight; but where +are we going?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will soon find out.” +</p> + +<p> +Finding his royal companion so uncommunicative, Elfric remained silent, +trusting that a few minutes would unravel the mystery. +</p> + +<p> +But an hour had passed, during which the boat steadily progressed up stream, +before the watermen pulled in for the shore, and a dark building loomed before +them in dim shadow. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the place,” said Edwy. “Be ready, my men, to take us +back about midnight, or a little later;” and he threw some pieces of +money amongst them. +</p> + +<p> +Passing through a large garden, they arrived at a porch before a stout door +garnished with knobs of iron, which might bid defiance to thief or burglar. +</p> + +<p> +“Whose house is this?” asked Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait; you shall soon see.” +</p> + +<p> +The loud knocking Edwy made at the door soon brought some domestics, who, +opening a small wicket, discovered the identity of their principal visitor, and +immediately threw open the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” said Edwy; “we were almost frozen.” +</p> + +<p> +Passing through a kind of atrium—for the old Roman fashion was still +sometimes followed in this particular—the domestics ushered the visitors +into a room brilliantly lighted by torches stuck in cressets projecting from +the walls, and by huge wax candles upon a table spread for a feast. The light +revealed a small but apparently select party, who seemed to await the prince: a +lady, who appeared to be the mistress of the mansion; a young girl apparently +about the age of Edwy, who, calling her his fair cousin, saluted her fondly; +and two or three youths, whose gaudy dress and affected manners were strongly +in contrast with the stern simplicity of the times. +</p> + +<p> +After saluting each person with the greatest freedom, Edwy introduced his +companion. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is a young novice I have brought to learn the noble art of +merrymaking, of wine and wassail. We have both been literally starved at the +palace—I should say monastery—of Monk Edred today. It is Friday, +and we have been splendidly dining upon salt fish served up on golden salvers. +My goodness! the flavour of that precious cod is yet in my mouth. Food for +cats, I do assure you, and served up to kings. What did you think of it, +Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric was ashamed to say that it had not been so very bad after all. Truth to +say his conscience was uneasy, for he had been brought up to respect the fasts +of the Church, and he saw a trial awaiting him in the luscious dishes before +him. +</p> + +<p> +“What does it matter?” the reader may exclaim; “it is not +that which goeth into the mouth which defileth a man,” etc. +</p> + +<p> +True, most wise critic, but it is that which goeth out; and if disobedience be +not amongst the evils which defile, then Adam did not fall in Paradise when he +ate the forbidden fruit. Elfric could not touch flesh on fast days without the +instinctive feeling that he was doing wrong, and no one can sin against the +conviction of the heart without danger. +</p> + +<p> +The party now seated themselves, and without any grace or further preface the +feast began. Servants appeared and served up the most exquisite dishes, of a +delicacy almost unknown in England at that day, and poured rich wines into +silver goblets. It was evident that wealth abounded in the family they were +visiting, and that they had expended it freely for the gratification of Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +Ethelgiva, the lady of the house, was of noble presence, which almost seemed to +justify the claim of royal blood which was made for her. Tall and commanding, +age had not bent her form, although her locks were already white. Her beauty, +which must have been marvellous in her younger days, had attracted the +attention of a younger son of the reigning house, and they were married at an +early age, secretly, without the sanction of the king. +</p> + +<p> +The fruit of their union was Elgiva, a name destined to fill a place in a sad +and painful tragedy; but we are anticipating, and must crave the reader’s +pardon. +</p> + +<p> +Bright and cheerful indeed was the fair Elgiva at this moment. Her beauty was +remarkable even in a land so famed for the beauty of its daughters; and the +ill-advised Edwy may be pitied, if not altogether pardoned, for his +infatuation, for infatuation it was in a day when the near tie of blood between +them precluded the possibility of lawful matrimony, save at the expense of a +dispensation never likely to be conceded, since the temperament of men like +Odo, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and of Dunstan, was opposed to any +relaxation of the law in the case of the great when such relaxation was +unattainable by the poor and lowly. +</p> + +<p> +To return to our subject: +</p> + +<p> +The feast proceeded with great animation. At first Elfric hesitated when the +meat was placed before him, but he withered, in his weakness, before the +mocking smile of Edwy, and the sarcasm which played upon the lips of the rest +of the company, who perceived his hesitation. So he yielded, and, shaking off +all restraint, ate heartily. +</p> + +<p> +Dish followed dish, and the wine cup circulated with great freedom. Excited as +he was, Elfric could but remark the loose tone of the conversation. Subjects +were freely discussed which had never found admittance either in the palace of +King Edred or at Æscendune, and which, indeed, caused him to look up with +surprise, remembering in whose presence he sat. +</p> + +<p> +But, as is often the case in an age where opinion is severely repressed in its +outward expression, and amongst those compelled against their will to observe +silence on such subjects on ordinary occasions, all restraint seemed abandoned +at the table of Ethelgiva. It was not that the language was coarse, but whether +the conversation turned upon the restraints of the clergy, or the court, or +upon the fashionable frivolities of the day—for there were frivolities +and fashions even in that primitive age—there was a freedom of expression +bordering upon profanity or licentiousness. +</p> + +<p> +Edred was mocked as an old babbler; Dunstan was sometimes a fool, sometimes a +hypocrite, sometimes even a sorcerer, although this was said sneeringly; the +clergy were divided into fools and knaves; the claims of the Church—that +is of Christianity—derided, and the principle freely +avowed—“Enjoy life while you can, for you know not what may come +after.” +</p> + +<p> +Excited by the wine he had drunk, Elfric became as wild in his talk as the +other young men, and as the intoxicating drink mounted to his brain, seemed to +think that he had just learnt how to enjoy life. +</p> + +<p> +The ladies retired at last, and Edwy followed them. Elfric was on the point of +rising too, but a hint from his companions restrained him. The wine cup still +circulated, the conversation, now unrestrained, initiated the boy into many an +evil secret he had never known earlier; and so the hours passed on, till Edwy, +himself much flushed, came in and said that it was time to depart, for midnight +had long been tolled from the distant towers of London. +</p> + +<p> +He smiled as he saw by Elfric’s bloodshot eyes and unsteady gait, as he +rose, upsetting his seat, that his companion was something less master of +himself than usual; he felt, it need hardly be said, no remorse, but rather +regarded the whole thing as what might now be termed “a jolly +lark.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall you require bearers, or can you walk to the boat? I do not wonder +you are ill, you have eaten too much fish today; it is a shame to make the +knees weak through fasting in this style.” +</p> + +<p> +“I—I—am all right now.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will be better in the air.” +</p> + +<p> +So, bidding a farewell of somewhat doubtful character to his entertainers, +Elfric was assisted to the boat. The air did not revive him, he felt wretchedly +feverish and giddy, and could hardly tell how he reached the river. +</p> + +<p> +Reach it, however, he did, and the strong arms of the watermen impelled the +boat rapidly down the tide, until it reached the stairs near the palace. +</p> + +<p> +Here Redwald was in waiting, and assisted them to land. +</p> + +<p> +“You are very late, or rather early,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Edwy, “but it has been a jolly evening, only poor +Elfric has been ill, having of course weakened himself by fasting.” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald smiled such a scornful smile, and muttered some words to himself. Yet +it did not seem as if he were altogether displeased at the state in which he +saw Elfric. It may be added that Edwy was but little better. +</p> + +<p> +“You must keep silent,” said Redwald; “I believe the king and +Dunstan are hearing matins in the chapel: it is the festival of some saint or +other, who went to the gridiron in olden days.” +</p> + +<p> +The outer gate of the palace was cautiously opened, and, taking off their +shoes, the youths ascended the stairs which led to their apartments as lightly +as possible. +</p> + +<p> +“Send the leech Sigebert to us in the morning—he must report Elfric +unwell—for he will hardly get up to hear Dunstan mumble mass.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps your royal highness had better rest also.” +</p> + +<p> +“And bring suspicion upon us both? No,” said Edwy, “one will +be enough to report ill at once; Dunstan is an old fox.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Elfric could hardly get to bed, and, almost for the first time since +infancy, he laid himself down without one prayer. Edwy left him in the dark, +and there he lay, his head throbbing, and a burning thirst seeming to consume +him. +</p> + +<p> +Long before morning he was very sick, and when the bell was sounded for the +early mass it need hardly be said that he was unable to rise. +</p> + +<p> +Sigebert the physician, who, like Redwald, was in the confidence of the future +king, Edwy, came in to see him, and asked what was the matter. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sick and ill,” gasped Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you have taken something that disagreed with you—too +much fish perhaps.” (with a smile). +</p> + +<p> +“No—no—I do not—” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” said the leech; “you will soon be better; +meanwhile, I will account for your absence at chapel. Here, take this medicine; +you will find it relieve you.” +</p> + +<p> +And he gave Elfric a mixture which assuaged his burning thirst, and bathed his +forehead with some powerful essence which refreshed him greatly, whereupon the +leech departed. +</p> + +<p> +Only an hour later, and Edred, hearing from the physician of Elfric’s +sudden illness, came in to see the boy, whose bright cheerful face and merry +disposition had greatly attracted him. This was hardest of all for Elfric to +bear; he had to evade the kind questions of the king, and to hear expressions +of sympathy which he felt he did not deserve. +</p> + +<p> +More than once he felt inclined to tell all, but the fear of the prince +restrained him, and also a sense of what he thought honour, for he would not +betray his companion, and he could not confess his own guilt without +implicating Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +Poor boy! it would have been far better for him had he done so: he had taken +his first step downward. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/> +LOWER AND LOWER.</h2> + +<p> +It becomes our painful duty to record that from the date of the feast, +described in our last chapter, the character of poor Elfric underwent rapid +deterioration. In the first place, the fact of his having yielded to the +forbidden indulgence, and—as he felt—disgraced himself, gave Edwy, +as the master of the secret, great power over him, and he never failed to use +this power whenever he saw any inclination on the part of his vassal to throw +off the servitude. It was not that he deliberately intended to injure Elfric, +but he had come to regard virtue as either weakness or hypocrisy, at least such +virtues as temperance, purity, or self restraint. +</p> + +<p> +The great change which was creeping over Elfric became visible to others: he +seemed to lose his bright smile; the look of boyish innocence faded from his +countenance, and gave place to an expression of sullen reserve; he showed less +ardour in all his sports and pastimes, became subject to fits of melancholy, +and often seemed lost in thought, anxious thought, in the midst of his studies. +</p> + +<p> +He seldom had the power, even if the will, to communicate with home. Mercia was +in many respects an independent state, subject to the same king, but governed +by a code of laws differing from those of Wessex; and it was only when a royal +messenger or some chance traveller left court for the banks of the Midland +Avon, that Elfric could use the art of writing, a knowledge he was singular in +possessing, thanks to the wisdom of his sire. +</p> + +<p> +So the home authorities knew little of the absent one, for whom they offered up +many a fervent prayer, and of whom they constantly spoke and thought. And yet, +so mysterious are the ways of Providence, it seemed as if these prayers were +unanswered—seemed indeed, yet they were not forgotten before God. +</p> + +<p> +Seemed forgotten; for Elfric was rapidly becoming reckless. Many subsequent +scenes of indulgence had followed the first one, and other haunts, residences +of licentious young nobles, or taverns, had been sought out by the youths, and +always by Redwald’s connivance. +</p> + +<p> +He was Edwy’s evil genius, and always seemed at hand whensoever the +prince sought occasion to sin. Still, he was not at all suspected by Edred, +before whom he kept up an appearance of the strictest morality—always +punctual in his attendance at mass, matins, and evensong, and with a various +stock of phrases of pious import ready at tongue in case of need or opportunity +of using them to advantage. +</p> + +<p> +To Elfric, his behaviour was always reserved, yet he seemed even more ready to +lend him a helping hand downward than did the prince. +</p> + +<p> +So time passed on; weeks became months; and Christmas with all its hallowed +associations had passed; it had been Elfric’s first Christmas away from +home, and he was sad at heart, in spite of the boisterous merriment of his +companions. The spring of the year 955 came on, and Lent drew near, a season to +which Edwy looked forward with great dread, for, as he said, there would be +nothing in the whole palace to eat until Easter, and he could not even hope to +bribe the cook. +</p> + +<p> +The canons of the church required all persons to make confession, and so enter +upon the fast tide, having “thus purified their minds;” <a +href="#EndNoteA10sym" name="EndNoteA10anc"><sup>x</sup></a> it may, alas! be +easily guessed how the guilty lads performed this duty, how enforced confession +only led to their adding the sin of further deceit, and that of a deadly kind. +</p> + +<p> +Thus they entered upon Lent: their abstinence was entirely compulsory, not +voluntary; and although they made up for it in some degree when they could get +away from the palace, yet even this was difficult, for it was positively +unlawful for butchers to sell or for people to buy meat at the prohibited +seasons, and the law was not easily evaded. But it was a prayerless Lent also +to Elfric, for he had, alas! even discontinued his habit of daily prayer, a +habit he had hitherto maintained from childhood, a habit first learned at his +mother’s knee. +</p> + +<p> +Holy Week came, and was spent with great strictness; the king seemed to divide +his whole time between the business of state and the duties of religion. +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan was absent at Glastonbury, but other ecclesiastics thronged the palace, +and there were few, save the guilty boys and Redwald, who seemed uninfluenced +by the solemn commemoration. +</p> + +<p> +But it must not be supposed that Elfric was wholly uninfluenced: after the +preaching of the Passion by a poor simple monk on Good Friday, he retired to +his own little room, where he wept as if his heart would break. Had Dunstan +been then in town, the whole story would have been told, and much misery saved, +for Elfric felt he could trust him if he could trust anybody; but unhappily +Dunstan was, as we have seen, keeping Passiontide at his abbey. +</p> + +<p> +Still, Elfric felt he must tell all, and submit to the advice and penance which +might be imposed; and as he sat weeping over his sin that Good Friday night, +with the thought that he might find pardon and peace through the Great +Sacrifice so touchingly pleaded that day, he felt that the first step to +amendment must lie in a full and frank confession of all; he knew he should +grievously offend Edwy, and that he should lose the favour of his future king, +but he could not help it. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, oh why did I leave Æscendune, dear Æscendune?—fool that I +was—I will go back.” +</p> + +<p> +And a sweet desire of home and kindred rose up before him—of his +father’s loving welcome, his fond mother’s chaste kiss, and of the +dear old woods and waters—the hallowed associations of his home life. He +rose up to seek Father Benedict, determined to enter upon the path of peace at +any cost, when Edwy entered. +</p> + +<p> +He did not see in the gathering darkness the traces of emotion visible on poor +Elfric’s countenance, and he began in his usual careless +way—“How are you, Elfric, my boy; glad Lent is nearly over? What a +dismal time that wretched monk preached this morning!” +</p> + +<p> +“Edwy, I am utterly miserable: I must tell all; I cannot live like this +any longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a burst of penitence! go to confession; to be sure it looks well, +and if one can only manage to get out a few tears they account him a saint; +tell me the receipt.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Edwy, I must tell all!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not if you are wise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? It is all in secrecy.” +</p> + +<p> +“No it is not; you will be required as a penance to go and tell the king +all that we have done; you may do so, and I will manage to represent matters so +as to throw the whole blame on you; you will be sent home in disgrace.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Elfric hung down his head; the thought of his disgrace reaching home had +not occurred to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said Edwy, “I don’t want to be hard upon you. +Cheer up, my man. What have you done amiss? Only enjoyed yourself as nature has +guided you. Why should you think God meant us to pass through life like those +miserable shavelings Edred delights to honour? Cheer up, Elfric; your bright +face was never meant for that of a hypocrite. If you are so dreadfully bad, you +are in a pretty numerous company; and I don’t think the shavelings +believe their own tales about fire and torment hereafter. They are merry +enough, considering.” +</p> + +<p> +In short, poor Elfric’s short-lived penitence was given to the winds. +Edwy went alone to be shriven on the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +On Easter Day they both received the Holy Communion in the royal chapel. +</p> + +<p> +From that time remorse ceased to visit the heir of Æscendune, as if he had at +last quenched the Spirit, and he became so utterly wild and reckless, that at +last Dunstan thought it necessary to speak to him privately on the subject. It +was nearly six months after Easter. +</p> + +<p> +The boy entered the study set apart for the use of the great monk and statesman +with a palpitating heart, but he managed to repress its beatings, and put on a +perfectly unconcerned expression of countenance. He had gained in self control +if in nothing else. +</p> + +<p> +“I wished to speak with you, Elfric,” said the abbot, “upon a +very serious matter. When you first came here, I was delighted to have you as a +companion to the prince. You were evidently well brought up, and bore an +excellent character; but, I grieve to say, you have greatly changed for the +worse. Are you not aware of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, father. What have I done?” +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan sighed at the tone of the reply, and continued—“It is not +any particular action of which I wish to accuse you, but of the general tenor +of your conduct. I do not speak harshly, my boy; but if truth be told, you are +as idle as you were once diligent, as sullen and reserved as once candid and +open: and, my son, your face tells a tale of even worse things, and, but that I +am puzzled to know where you could obtain the means of self indulgence, I +should attribute more serious vices to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who has accused me, father?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yourself—that is, your own face and manner. Did you ever +contemplate yourself in a mirror when at home? There is a steel one against +that wall, go and look at yourself now.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric blushed deeply. +</p> + +<p> +“My face is still the same,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the same, and yet not the same. Innocence once took her place at +its portals, and had sealed it as her own; the expression is all changed; my +boy, I am absolutely certain that all is not well with you. For your own sake, +delay no longer to avoid the danger of losing your salvation, for the habits +you form now will perhaps cling to you through life. Turn now to your own self; +confess your sin, and be at peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“I came to confession at Shrovetide; I am not required to come now, am +I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Required? No, my boy, it is your own sense of guilt, alone, which should +draw you. The Church, since there has been no public scandal, leaves you to +your own judgment at such a time as this. Have you never felt such remorse of +conscience as would tell you your duty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never.” +</p> + +<p> +He thought of Good Friday, and blushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Your tone and words belie each other, my boy. God grant you repentance; +you will not accept my help now, but the time may come when you will seek help +in vain.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric bowed, without reply, and at a sign left the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +A few weeks later, at the beginning of November, Edred left London for a tour +in the west, and quitted his nephews with more than his usual affection, +although his goodbye to Elfric was more constrained, for the good old king, not +knowing the whole truth, was beginning to fear that Elfric was a dangerous +companion. He little thought that he was rather sinned against than sinning. +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan was to follow him in a week, and only remained behind to discharge +necessary business. +</p> + +<p> +The heart of the amorous Edwy beat with delight as he saw his uncle depart, and +he made arrangements at once to spend the night after Dunstan’s departure +in mirth and jollity at the house of Ethelgiva and her fair daughter. +</p> + +<p> +He came back after an interview with Redwald on the subject, and found Elfric +in their common study. There was an alcove in the room, and it was covered by a +curtain. +</p> + +<p> +“O Elfric,” said the prince, “is it not delightful? The two +tyrants, the king and the monk, will soon be gone. I wish the Evil One would +fly off with them both, and when the cat is away will not the mice play? I have +made all the arrangements; we shall have such a night at the lady +Ethelgiva’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is the fair Elgiva?” +</p> + +<p> +It was now Edwy’s turn to blush and look confused. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I had the power of teasing you, Elfric. But if you have a secret +you keep it close. Remember old Dunstan vanishes on the fifteenth, and the same +evening, oh, won’t it be joyful? But I am tired of work. Come and let us +take some fresh air.” +</p> + +<p> +They left the room, when the curtain parted, and the astonished countenance of +Father Benedict, who had been quietly reading in the deep embrasure of the +window, presently appeared. He looked like a man at whose feet a thunderbolt +had fallen, and hastily left the room. +</p> + +<p> +The week passed rapidly away, and at its close Dunstan took his departure. A +train of horses awaited him, and he bade the young princes Edwy and Edgar +farewell, with the usual charge to work diligently and obey Father Benedict. +</p> + +<p> +That same night, after the clerks had sung compline in the chapel, and the +chamberlain had seen to the safety of the palace, Edwy came quietly to the room +of his page, and the two left as on the first occasion. Redwald attended them, +and just before the boat left the bank he spoke a word of caution. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear,” he said, in a low tone, “that all is not quite +right. That old fox Dunstan is up to some trick; he has not really left +town.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps he has a similar appointment tonight,” said Edwy, +sarcastically. “I should keep mine though he and all his monks from +Glastonbury barred the way.” +</p> + +<p> +They reached the castellated mansion of Ethelgiva in due course, and the +programme of the former evening was repeated, save that, if there was any +change, the conversation was more licentious, and the wine cup passed more +freely. +</p> + +<p> +It was midnight, and one of the company was favouring them with a song of +questionable propriety, when a heavy knock was heard at the door. The servants +went to answer it, and all the company awaited the issue in suspense. +</p> + +<p> +One of the principal domestics returned with haste, and whispered some words +into the ear of Ethelgiva—which seemed to discompose her. +</p> + +<p> +“What can this mean?” she said. “A guard of soldiers demand +admittance in the king’s name?” +</p> + +<p> +A louder knocking attested the fact. +</p> + +<p> +“You must admit them, or they will batter the door down. Edwy, Elfric! +here, hide yourselves behind that curtain, it veils a deep recess.” +</p> + +<p> +They had scarcely concealed themselves when Dunstan entered, attended by a +guard of the royal hus-carles. +</p> + +<p> +“What means this insolence?” said Ethelgiva. +</p> + +<p> +“No insolence is intended, royal lady, nor could be offered to the widow +of the Etheling, by me,” replied Dunstan, “but I seek to discharge +a sacred trust committed to me. Where are my pupils, the Prince Edwy and his +companion?” +</p> + +<p> +“In their beds, at the palace, I should suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, be not so perfidious; they are here, lady, and probably within +hearing; they must come forth, or I must order the guard to search the house, +which I should regret.” +</p> + +<p> +“By whose authority?” +</p> + +<p> +“By that of the king, whose signet is on my hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are not here; they left half-an-hour ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, madam, if I observe that we have watched the house for an +hour. +</p> + +<p> +“Had not this scene better terminate?” he added, with icy coldness. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a favourite dog, which Edwy had often petted, and which had +entered with the guard, found him out behind the curtain, and in its vociferous +joy betrayed the whole secret. +</p> + +<p> +Confusion or smiles sat on every face save that of the imperturbable Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +“Your dog, madam, is more truthful than its mistress,” he said, +bluntly yet quietly; and then, advancing to the recess, he drew aside the +curtain and gazed upon the discovered couple. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you kindly return to the palace with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“How dare you, insolent monk, intrude upon the pleasures of your future +king?” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare by the orders of the present king, your royal uncle, who has +committed the whole matter into my hands; and, Prince Edwy, in the discharge of +my duty ‘dare’ is a superfluous word. Will you, as I said before, +both follow me, if you are sufficiently masters of yourselves to do so?” +</p> + +<p> +The import of all this was seen at a glance, but there was no course but +submission, and Edwy well knew how utterly indefensible his conduct was; so, +with crestfallen gait, he and Elfric followed their captor to the river, where +was another large boat by the side of their own. They entered it, and returned +to the palace stairs much more sober than on previous occasions. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/> +“THE KING IS DEAD!—LONG LIVE THE KING!”</h2> + +<p> +The unhappy Elfric passed the night in a most unenviable frame of mind. He felt +distinctly how utterly he was in the power of Dunstan, and that he could only +expect to return home in disgrace; yet there was no real repentance in all +this: he had sinned and suffered, but although he dreaded punishment he no +longer hated sin. +</p> + +<p> +He scarcely slept at all, and early in the morning he rose to seek an interview +with Edwy, when he found that he was a prisoner. One of the hus-carles posted +at his door forbade all communication. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the morning the bell sounded for the early service, still he was not +released, and later his breakfast was brought to him, after which he heard a +heavy step approaching, and Dunstan appeared at the door of the sleeping +chamber. +</p> + +<p> +He entered, and gazed at Elfric for a moment without speaking, as if he would +read his very heart by his face; it was hardly comfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric,” he said at last, “do you remember the warning I +gave you six months ago?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Elfric, determined, in desperation, to deny everything. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear you are hardly telling me the truth; you must remember it, +unhappy boy! Why were you not warned in time? Why did you refuse the advice +which might have saved you from all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because it was my fate, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Men make their own fates, and as they make their beds so must they lie +upon them; however, I have not come here to reproach you, but to bid you +prepare to return home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Home?—so soon?” said Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you must leave tomorrow, when a messenger will be prepared to +accompany you, and to explain the cause of your dismissal from court to your +father, whom I most sincerely pity; and let me hope that you will find leisure +to repent of your grievous sin in the solitude of your native home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Must my father be told everything?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear he must: you have left us no choice; and it is the better thing, +both for him and for you; he will understand better what steps are necessary +for your reformation—a reformation, I trust, which will be accomplished +in good time, whereat no one will rejoice more than I.” +</p> + +<p> +A pert answer rose to Elfric’s lips, but he dared not give utterance to +it; the speaker was too great in his wrath to be defied with impunity. +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell,” said Dunstan, “would that I could say the word +with brighter hopes; but should you ever repent of your sin, as I trust you +may, it will gladden me to hear of it. I fear you may have done great harm to +England in the person of her future king, but God forgive you in that +case.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric felt the injustice of the last accusation; he coloured, and an indignant +denial had almost risen to his lips, but he repressed it for Edwy’s +sake—faithful, even in his vice, to his friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I to consider myself a prisoner? you have posted a sentinel, as if I +were a criminal.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must be confined to your apartment, but you may have books and +anything else you desire. The prince is forbidden to see you again. Your +confinement will only be for one day; tomorrow you will be free enough; let me +beg you to use the occasion for calm reflection, and, I hope, penitence.” +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan left the room, and Elfric heard his retreating steps go heavily down +the stairs, when a sudden and almost unaccountable feeling came over +him—a feeling that he had thrown himself away, and that he was committed +to evil, perhaps never to be able to retrace his course, never to all eternity; +the retreating steps sounded as if his sentence were passed and the door of +mercy shut. He shook off the strange feeling; yet, could he have seen the +future which lay undiscovered before him, and which must intervene before he +should see that face again, or hear those steps, he might have been unable thus +to shake off the nameless dread. +</p> + +<p> +The day wore away, night drew on; he laid himself down and tried to sleep, when +he heard voices conversing outside, and recognised Edwy’s tones; +immediately after the prince entered. +</p> + +<p> +“What a shame, Elfric,” he said, “to make you a prisoner like +this, and to send you away—for they say you are to go tomorrow —you +shall not be forgotten if ever I become king, and I don’t think it will +be long first. The first thing I shall do will be to send for you; you will +come; won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will be yours for life or death.” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew it, and this is the faithful friend from whom they would separate +me; well, we will have this last evening together in peace; old Dunstan has +gone out, and Redwald has put a man as your guard who never sees anything he is +not wanted to see.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a convenient thing!” +</p> + +<p> +“But you seem very dull; is anything on your mind which I do not know? +What did Dunstan say to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is going to write home to my father all particulars. It will make +home miserable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps we may find a remedy for that,” said Edwy, and left the +room hastily. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly he returned in company with Redwald. +</p> + +<p> +“Come with us, Elfric,” said the prince “there is no one in +the palace to interfere with us. Old Dunstan received a sudden message, and has +gone out hastily; we will go and see what he has written.” +</p> + +<p> +Somewhat startled at the audacity of the proposal, Elfric followed the prince, +and Redwald accompanied them. After passing through a few passages, they +arrived at the cell, or rather study, usually occupied by Dunstan when at +court, and entered it, not without a slight feeling of dread, or rather of +reluctance. +</p> + +<p> +“Here it is,” said Edwy, and held up a parchment, folded, sealed, +and directed to “Ella, Thane of Æscendune.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to know what he has written,” said the prince. +“Redwald, you understand these things; can you open the letter without +breaking the seal?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no need of that,” replied the captain of the hus-carles, +“I can easily seal it again; see, there is the signet, and here the +wax.” +</p> + +<p> +So he broke the letter open and extended it to the prince, whose liberal +education had given him the faculty of reading the monkish Latin, in which +Dunstan wrote, at a glance, and he read aloud: +</p> + +<p> +“TO MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, +</p> + +<p> +“ELLA, THANE OF ÆSCENDUNE— +</p> + +<p> +“It grieveth me much, most beloved brother, to be under the necessity of +sending your son Elfric home in some little disgrace; but it is, alas a +necessity that I should do so, in virtue of the authority our good lord and +king, Edred, hath entrusted to me. The lad was bright, and, I think, innocent +of aught like deadly sin, when he came to this huge Babel, where the devil +seems to lead men even as he will, and he hath fallen here into evil +company—nay, into the very company most evil of all in this wicked world, +that of designing and shameless women, albeit of noble birth. It hath been made +apparent to me that there is great danger to both the prince and your son in +any further connection, therefore I return Elfric to your care, sincerely +hoping that, by God’s help, you will be enabled to take such measures as +will lead to his speedy reformation, for which I devoutly pray. The bearer will +give such further information as you may desire. +</p> + +<p> +“Wishing you health, and an abiding place in the favour of God and His +saints—Your brother in the faith of Christ, +</p> + +<p> +“DUNSTAN, O.S.B.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy read the letter aloud with many a vindictive comment, and then said to +Redwald—“What can be done? Must this letter go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Does your father know the Saint’s handwriting, Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +“He never heard from him before, I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I will venture to enclose a different message,” and he +sat down at the table, and wrote—“TO MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, +</p> + +<p> +“ELLA, THANE OF ÆSCENDUNE— +</p> + +<p> +“It rejoiceth me much, most beloved brother, to send you good tidings of +the good behaviour and growth in grace of your son, whom the king hath +concluded to send home for the benefit of his health, since London hath in some +degree destroyed the ruddy hue of his countenance, and he needeth a change, as +his paleness sufficiently declareth. +</p> + +<p> +“The king hath bidden me express his great satisfaction with the +lad’s conduct, and the prince mourneth his enforced departure. Wishing +you health and an abiding place in the favour of God and His saints—Your +brother in the faith of Christ, +</p> + +<p> +“DUNSTAN, O.S.B.” +</p> + +<p> +The boys laughed aloud as they read the forgery. +</p> + +<p> +“But about the messenger—will he not tell the truth?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I will see to him, he is not above a bribe, and knows it is his +interest to serve his future king, although Dunstan thinks him so +trusty.” +</p> + +<p> +All at once the booming of a heavy bell smote their ears. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the bell of St. Paul’s, it tolls for the death of some +noble,” said Redwald; “what can it mean? has any member of the +royal family been ill?” +</p> + +<p> +They listened to the solemn dirge-like sound as it floated through the air, +calling upon all good Christians to pray for the repose of the departed or +departing soul. No prayer rose to their lips, and they soon returned to the +subject in hand. +</p> + +<p> +“When is the letter to be despatched?” +</p> + +<p> +“Early in the morning the messenger will await you; and now, I should +recommend some sleep to prepare for a fatiguing journey.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric and the prince returned to their chamber, but they did not take +Redwald’s hint, and remained talking till just before daybreak, when they +were aroused by the hasty step of an armed heel, and Redwald stood before them. +His demeanour was very strange; he bent down on one knee, took the hand of +Edwy, who resigned it passively to him, kissed it and cried +aloud—“God save the king!” +</p> + +<p> +“What can you mean, Redwald?” exclaimed both the youths. +</p> + +<p> +“Heard you not the passing bell last night? Edred sleeps with his +fathers; he died at Frome on St. Clement’s day.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment they were both silent. +</p> + +<p> +“And Edwy, the great grandson of Alfred, is king of England.” +</p> + +<p> +At first the young prince was deeply shocked at the sudden news of the death of +his uncle, to whom, in spite of appearances, he was somewhat attached. He +turned pale, and was again silent for some minutes; at last, he gulped down a +cup of water, and asked—“But how did Dunstan know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it is a strange tale. Three days ago, at the very hour the king +must have died, he says that he saw a bright light, and beheld a vision of +angels, who said, ‘Edred hath died in the Lord,’ but he treated it +as a dream, and last night a messenger came with the news of the sudden illness +of the king, bidding Dunstan hasten to his side. He left everything, and +started immediately, but in a few miles met another messenger, bearing the news +of the death. He has gone on, but sent the messenger forward to the Bishop of +London, who caused the great bell to be tolled. +</p> + +<p> +“We must all die some day,” said Edwy, musingly; “but it is +very very sudden.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I trust he has obtained a better kingdom,” added Redwald; +“he must, you know, if the monks tell the truth, so why should we weep +for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“At least,” said Edwy, looking up, “Elfric need not go home +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, certainly not, but he had better disappear from court for a time. +The lady Ethelgiva might afford him hospitality, or he might stay at the royal +palace at Kingston. I will tell the messenger to keep out of the way, and +Dunstan may suppose that his orders have been obeyed to the letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should we trouble what he may think or say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because the Witan has not yet met, and until it has gone through the +form, the mere form, of recognising your title, you are not actually king. +Dunstan has some influence. Suppose he should use it for Edgar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Edgar, the pale-faced little priestling!” +</p> + +<p> +“All the better for that in Dunstan’s eyes. Nay, be advised, my +king; keep all things quiet until the coronation is over, then let Dunstan know +who you are and who he is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed I will. He shall have cause to rue his insolent behaviour the +other night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bide your time, my liege; and now the great officers of state require +your presence below.” +</p> + +<p> +A few days later a sorrowful procession entered the old city of Winchester, the +capital of Wessex, and once a favourite residence of Edred, now to be his last +earthly resting place. Much had the citizens loved him; and as the long train +defiled into the open space around the old minster—old, even +then—the vast assemblage, grouped beneath the trees around the sacred +precincts, lifted up their voices and joined in the funeral hymn, while many +wept tears of genuine sorrow. It was awe inspiring, that burst of tuneful +wailing, as the monks entered the sacred pile, and it made men’s hearts +thrill with the sense of the unseen world into which their king had entered, +and where, as they believed, their supplications might yet follow him. +</p> + +<p> +There were the chief mourners—Edwy and Edgar—and they followed the +royal corpse, the latter greatly afflicted, and shedding genuine tears of +sorrow—and the royal household. All the nobility of Wessex, and many of +the nobles from Mercia and other provinces, were gathered together, and amidst +the solemn silence of the vast crowd, Dunstan performed the last sad and solemn +rites with a broken voice; while the archbishop—Odo the Good, as he was +frequently called—assisted in the dread solemnity. +</p> + +<p> +It was over; the coffin was lowered to the royal vaults to repose in peace, the +incenses had ceased to float dreamily beneath the lofty roof,<a +href="#EndNoteA11sym" name="EndNoteA11anc"><sup>xi</sup></a> the various lights +which had borne part in the ceremony were extinguished, the choral anthem had +ceased, for Edred slept with his fathers. +</p> + +<p> +And outside, the future king was welcomed with loud cries of “God save +King Edwy, and make him just as Alfred, pious as Edred, and warlike as +Athelstane!” +</p> + +<p> +“Long live the heir of Cerdic’s ancient line!” +</p> + +<p> +Thus their cries anticipated the decision of the Witan, and without all was +noise and clamour; while within the sacred fane the ashes of him who had so +lately ruled England rested in peace by the side of his royal father Edward, +the son of Alfred, three of whose sons—Athelstane, Edmund, +Edred—had now reigned in succession. +</p> + +<p> +It must not be supposed that Edwy was as yet king by the law of the land. The +early English writers all speak of their kings as elected; it was not until the +Witan had recognised them, that they were crowned and assumed the royal +prerogatives. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy had followed Redwald’s advice: he had kept Elfric out of the way, +and meant to do so until his coronation day. And meanwhile he condescended to +disguise his real feelings, and to affect sorrow for his past failings when in +the presence of Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +Yet he took advantage of the greater liberty he now enjoyed to renew his visits +to the mansion up the Thames, and to spend whole days in the society of Elgiva. +In their simplicity and deep love they thought all the obstacles to their happy +union now removed. Alas! ill-fated pair! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/> +THE CORONATION.</h2> + +<p> +Nothing could exceed in solemnity the “hallowing of the king,” as +the coronation ceremony was termed in Anglo-Saxon times. It was looked upon as +an event of both civil and ecclesiastical importance, and therefore nothing was +omitted which could lend dignity to the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +The Witan, or parliament, had already met and given its consent to the +coronation of Edwy. It was not, as we have already remarked, a mere matter of +course that the direct heir should occupy the throne. Edred had already +ascended, while Edwy, the son of his elder brother, was an infant, not as +regent, but as king; and in any case of unfitness on the part of the heir +apparent, it was in the power of the Witan to pass him over, and to choose for +the public good some other member of the royal house. The same Witan conferred +upon Edgar the title of sub-king of Mercia under his brother. +</p> + +<p> +Solemn and imposing was the meeting of the Witenagemot, or “assembly of +the wise.” It was divided into three estates. The first consisted of the +only class who, as a rule, had any learning in those days—the clergy, +represented by the bishop, abbot, and their principal officials: the second +consisted of the vassal kings of Scotland, Cumbria, Wales, Mona, the Hebrides, +and other dependent states, the great earls, as of Mercia or East Anglia, and +other mighty magnates: the third, of the lesser thanes, who were the especial +vassals of the king, or the great landholders, for the possession of land was +an essential part of a title to nobility. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst these sat Ella of Æscendune, who, in spite of his age, had come to the +metropolis to testify his loyalty and fealty to the son of the murdered Edmund, +his old friend and companion in arms, and to behold his own eldest son once +more. +</p> + +<p> +It was the morning of a beautiful day in early spring, one of those days of +which the poet has written— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Sweet day, so calm, so pure, so bright,<br/> +The bridal of the earth and sky” +</p> + +<p> +—when winter seems to have loosed its stern hold upon the frozen earth, +and the songs of countless birds welcome the bright sunlight, the harbinger of +approaching summer. +</p> + +<p> +The roads leading to Kingston-on-Thames were thronged with travellers of every +degree—the ealdorman or earl with his numerous attendants, the bishop +with rude ecclesiastical pomp, the peasant in his rough jerkin—all +hastening to the approaching ceremony, which, as it had been definitely fixed, +was to take place at that royal city. +</p> + +<p> +There Athelstane had been crowned with great pomp and splendour, for it was +peculiarly “<i>Cynges tun</i>” or the King’s Town, and after +the coronation it was customary for the newly-crowned monarch to take formal +possession of his kingdom by standing on a great stone in the churchyard. +</p> + +<p> +The previous night, Archbishop Odo had arrived from Canterbury, and his bosom +friend and brother, Dunstan, from Glastonbury, as also Cynesige, Bishop of +Lichfield, a man in every way like-minded with them; while nearly all the other +prelates, abbots, and nobles, arrived in the early morn of the eventful day. +</p> + +<p> +The solemn service of the coronation mass was about to commence, and the people +were assembling in the great church of St. Mary, filling every inch of +available room. Every figure was bent forward in earnest gaze, and every heart +seemed to beat more quickly, as the faint and distant sound of deep solemn +music, the monastic choirs chanting the processional psalms, drew near. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the jubilant strains filled the whole church, as the white-robed train +entered the sacred building while they sang: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Quoniam prævenisti eum in benedictionibus dulcedinis, posuisti in +capiti ejus coronam de lapide pretioso</i>.” <a href="#EndNoteA12sym" +name="EndNoteA12anc"><sup>xii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Incense ascended in clouds to the lofty roof; torches were uplifted, banners +floated in the air, every eye was now strained to catch a glimpse of the +youthful monarch. +</p> + +<p> +He came at last. Oh, how lovely the ill-fated boy looked that day! His beauty +was of a somewhat fragile character, his complexion almost too fair, his hair +shone around his shoulders in waves of gold, for men then wore their hair long, +his eyes blue as the azure vault on that sweet spring morning: alas, that his +spiritual being should not have been equally fair! +</p> + +<p> +Elfric stood by his father, amidst the crowd of thanes, near the rood screen, +for he had spent the last few days at Kingston, and there his father had found +him, and had embraced him with joy, little dreaming of the change which had +come over his darling boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, father, is he not every inch a king?” Elfric could not help +exclaiming, forgetting the place and the occasion in his pride in his king and +his friend. +</p> + +<p> +He would have been one of the four boys who bore the royal train, but it had +not seemed advisable on such a day to offend Dunstan too seriously. +</p> + +<p> +The mass proceeded after the royal party had all taken their places, and the +coronation service was incorporated into the rite, following the Nicene Creed +and preceding the canon. +</p> + +<p> +Kneeling before the altar, the young prince might well tremble with emotion. +Before him stood the archbishop, clad in full pontifical vestments; around were +the most noted prelates and wisest abbots of England; behind him the nobility, +gentry, and commonalty of the whole country—all gazing upon him, as the +archbishop dictated the solemn words of the oath, which Edwy repeated with +trembling voice after him. +</p> + +<p> +“In the name of the ever-blessed Trinity, I promise three things to the +Christian people, my subjects: +</p> + +<p> +“First, that the Church of God within my realm shall enjoy peace, free +from any molestation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Second, that I will prevent, to the utmost of my power, theft and every +fraud in all ranks of men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thirdly, that I will preserve and maintain justice and mercy in all +judicial proceedings, so that the good and merciful God may, according to His +mercy, forgive us all our sins, Who liveth and reigneth for ever and ever. +Amen.” +</p> + +<p> +Then followed a most solemn charge from “Odo the Good,” setting +forth all the deep responsibilities of the oath Edwy had taken, and of the +awful account to be rendered to God of the flock committed to his youthful +charge, at the great and awful day of judgment. +</p> + +<p> +Then the holy oil was solemnly poured upon the head of the kneeling boy, after +which he made the usual offertory of “gold, frankincense, and +myrrh,” at the altar, emblematical of the visit of the three kings of +old, who from Sheba bore their gold and incense to the Lord. +</p> + +<p> +Then was the sacred bracelet put upon his arm, the crown on his head, the +sceptre in his hand, after which the mass proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +It is touching to recall the worship of those far-off days, when all the +surrounding circumstances differed so widely from those of the present hour; +yet the Church, in her holy conservatism, has kept intact and almost changeless +all that is hers; that day the “Nicene Creed,” +“Sanctus,” “Agnus Dei,” “Gloria in +Excelsis,” rolled as now in strains of melody towards heaven, and the +“Te Deum” which concluded the jubilant service is our Te Deum +still, albeit in the vulgar tongue. +</p> + +<p> +The sacred rites concluded, the royal procession left the church and proceeded +to the churchyard, when Edwy took formal possession of Wessex, by the ceremony +of standing upon a large rock called the King’s Stone, whence the town +derived its name. +</p> + +<p> +The feast was spread in the palace hard by, and all the nobles and thanes (if +the words are not synonymous) flocked thither, while the multitude had their +liberal feast spread at various tables throughout the town, at the royal +expense. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric followed his father to the palace, and was about to take his place at +the board, when a page appeared and summoned him to the presence of Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall keep a vacant place for you by my side,” said Ella, +“so that we may feast together, my son, when the king releases you; it is +a great honour that he should think of you now.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric followed the messenger, who led him into the interior of the palace, +where he found Edwy impatiently awaiting him in the royal dressing chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric had expected to find the newly-crowned king deeply impressed, but if +such had been the case, at the moment it had passed away. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks to all the saints, including St. George, and especially the +dragon, that I can look into your jolly face again, Elfric, it is a relief +after all the grim-beards who have surrounded me today. I shudder when I think +of them.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric had been about to kneel and kiss the royal hand, in token of homage, but +Edwy saw the intention and prohibited him. +</p> + +<p> +“No more of that an thou lovest me, Elfric; my poor hand is almost worn +out already.” +</p> + +<p> +“The day must have tired you, the scene was so exciting.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy yawned as he replied, “Thank God it is over; I thought Odo was going +to preach to me all day, and the incense almost stifled me; the one good thing +is that it is done now, and all England—Kent, Sussex, Wessex, Essex, +Northumbria, East Anglia, and Mercia —have all acknowledged me as their +liege lord, the Basileus of Britain. What is done can’t be undone, and +Dunstan may eat his leek now, and go to fight Satan again.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric looked up in some surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think, my friend; who do you suppose is here in the palace, +in the royal apartments?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” +</p> + +<p> +“Elgiva, the fair Elgiva, the lovely Elgiva, dear Elgiva, and her mother. +Oh, but I shall love to look upon her face when the feast is done, and the +grim-beards have gone!” +</p> + +<p> +“But Dunstan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dunstan may go and hang himself; he can’t scrape off the +consecrated oil, or carry away crown, bracelet, and sceptre, to hide with the +other royal treasures at Glastonbury; but the feast is beginning, and you must +come and sit on my right hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said Elfric, who saw at once what an impropriety this +would be, “not yet; besides, my old father is here, and has kept a seat +beside himself for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, goodbye for the present; I shall expect you after the feast. +Elgiva will be glad to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric returned to his father, but a feeling of sadness had taken possession of +him, an apprehension of coming evil. +</p> + +<p> +The feast began; the clergy and the nobility of the land were assembled in the +great hail of the palace, and there was that profusion of good cheer which +befitted the day, for the English were, like their German ancestors, in the +habit of considering the feast an essential part of any solemnity. +</p> + +<p> +How much was eaten and drunk upon the occasion it would be dangerous to say, +for it would probably exceed all modern experience, but it seemed to the +impatient Edwy that the feast and the subsequent drinking of pledges and +healths would never end, and he was impatient the whole time to get away and be +in the company of the charmer. +</p> + +<p> +An opportunity seemed at last to offer itself to his immature judgment. Gleemen +had sung, harpers had harped, but the excitement culminated when Siward, a +Northumbrian noble, who was a great musician, and skilful in improvisation, did +not disdain, like the royal Alfred, to take the harp and pour forth an +extemporary ode of great beauty, whereupon the whole multitude rose to their +feet and waved their wine cups in the air, in ardent appreciation of the +patriotic sentiments he had uttered, and the beauty of the music and poetry. +</p> + +<p> +During the full din of their heated applause, when all eyes were fixed upon the +accomplished musician, Edwy rose softly from his chair; a door was just behind +him, and he took advantage of it to leave the hail and thread the passages +quickly, till he came to the room where he had left Elgiva, when he threw aside +his royal mantle and all his restraint at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +It was not for a few moments that the company in the hall discovered the +absence of their king, but when they did there was a sudden hush, and men +looked at each other in mute astonishment; it appeared to all, with scarce an +exception, a gross insult to the assembled majesty of the nation. <a +href="#EndNoteA13sym" name="EndNoteA13anc"><sup>xiii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Poor Edwy, in his thoughtlessness and want of proper feeling, little knew the +deep anger such a proceeding would cause; in his lack of a reverential spirit +he was constantly, as we have seen, offending against the respect due to the +Church, the State, or himself—first as heir presumptive, then as king. +</p> + +<p> +Men stood mute, as we have said, then murmurs of indignation at the slight +arose, and all looked at Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +He beckoned to Cynesige of Lichfield, who came to his side. +</p> + +<p> +“We must bring this thoughtless boy back,” he said, “or great +harm will be done.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how?” +</p> + +<p> +“By persuasion, if possible. Follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +The two prelates entered the interior of the palace, and sought the +king’s private chamber. +</p> + +<p> +As they drew near they heard the sound of merry laughter, and each of them +frowned as men might do who were little accustomed to condone the weakness of +human flesh. Entering the chamber very unceremoniously, they paused, as if +aghast, when they beheld the king in the company of Elgiva, his royal diadem +cast upon the ground. +</p> + +<p> +He started in surprise, and for a moment in fear; then, remembering who he was, +he exclaimed, angrily—“How dare you, sir monk, intrude upon the +privacy of your king, unbidden?” +</p> + +<p> +“We do so as the ambassadors of the King of kings.” +</p> + +<p> +It is out of our power to describe the scene which followed, the fiery words of +Edwy, the stern yet quiet rejoinders of the churchmen, the tears of the mother +and daughter; but it is well known how the scene ended. Edwy absolutely refused +to return to the assembled guests, saying he would forfeit his kingdom first; +and Dunstan replied that for his (Edwy’s) own sake he should then be +compelled to use force, and suiting the action to the word, he and Cynesige +took each an arm of the youthful king, and led him back by compulsion to the +assembled nobles and clergy. +</p> + +<p> +Before condemning Dunstan, we must remember that Elgiva could not stand in the +relation of the affianced bride of the king; that Edwy really seemed to set the +laws of both Church and State at defiance, those very laws which but that day +he had sworn solemnly to maintain; and that but recently he had stood in the +relation of pupil to Dunstan, so that in his zeal for Church and State, the +abbot forgot the respect due to the king. He saw only the boy, and forgot the +sovereign. +</p> + +<p> +The guests assembled in the banqueting hall had seen the desertion of their +royal master with murmurs both loud and deep; but when they saw him return +escorted by Dunstan and Cynesige, their unanimous approval showed that in their +eyes the churchmen had taken a proper step. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, although Edwy tried to make a show of having returned of his own free +will, an innocent device at which his captors connived when they entered the +hall with him, the bitterest passions were rankling in his heart, and he +determined to take a terrible revenge, should it ever be in his power, upon +Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +There was comparatively little show of merriment during the rest of the feast, +and the noble company separated earlier than was usual on such occasions. +</p> + +<p> +“If this be the way King Edwy treats his guests,” said the Earl of +Mercia, “he will find scant loyalty north of the Thames.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor in East Anglia,” said another. +</p> + +<p> +“There is another of the line of Cerdic living.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Edgar, his brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dunstan and Cynesige brought him back with some difficulty, I’ll +be bound.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; although he tried to smile, I saw the black frown hidden +beneath.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will take revenge for all this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, upon Dunstan to be sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how can he? Dunstan is too powerful for that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait and see.” +</p> + +<p> +Such was the general tone of the conversation, from which the sentiments of the +community might be inferred. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric went, as he had been bidden to do, at the conclusion of the feast, to +seek Edwy, and found him, it is needless to state, in a towering rage. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric,” he said, “am I a king? or did I dream I was crowned +today?” +</p> + +<p> +“You certainly were.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet these insolent monks have dared to force me from the company of +Elgiva to return to that sottish feast, and what is worse, I find they have +dared to send her and her mother home under an escort, so that I cannot even +apologise to them. As I live, if I am a king I will have revenge.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust so, indeed,” said Elfric, “they deserve +death.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would it were in my power to inflict it; but this accursed +monk—I go mad when I mention his name—is all too powerful. I +believe Satan helps him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still there may be ways, if you only wait till you can look around +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“There may indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only have patience; all will be in your hands some day.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if it be in my power I will restore the worship of Woden and Thor, +and burn every monk’s nest in the land.” +</p> + +<p> +“They were at least the gods of warriors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, you will stand by me, will you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“With my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come to the window, now; see the old sots departing. There a priest, +there a thane, there an earl—all drunk, I do believe; don’t you +think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said Elfric, disregarding the testimony of both his +eyes that they were all perfectly sober. +</p> + +<p> +Just then his eye caught a very disagreeable object, and he turned somewhat +pale. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you looking at?” said Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“There is that old fox, Dunstan, talking with my father; he will learn +that I am here.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does it matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only that he will easily persuade my father to take me home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then the commands of a king must outweigh those of a father. I have +heard Dunstan say a king is the father of all his people, and I command you to +stay.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to stay with all my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you shall, even if I have to make a pretence of detaining you by +force.” +</p> + +<p> +The anticipations of Elfric were not far wrong. Dunstan had found out the +truth. He had sought out the old thane to condole with him upon the pain he +supposed he must recently have inflicted by his letter. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot express to you, my old friend and brother,” he said, +“the great pain with which I sent your poor boy Elfric home, but it was a +necessity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sent him home?” said Ella. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, at the time our lamented Edred died.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sent him home!” repeated Ella, in such undisguised amazement that +Dunstan soon perceived something was amiss, and in a few short minutes became +possessed of the whole facts, while Ella learnt his son’s disgrace. +</p> + +<p> +They conferred long and earnestly. The father’s heart was sorely wounded, +but he could not think that Elfric would resist his commands, and he promised +to take him back at once to Æscendune, where he hoped all would soon be +well—“soon, very soon,” he said falteringly. +</p> + +<p> +So the old thane went to his lodgings, hard by the palace, where he awaited his +son. +</p> + +<p> +Late in the evening Elfric arrived, his countenance flushed with wine: he had +been seeking courage for the part he had to play in the wine cup. +</p> + +<p> +Long and painful, most painful, was the interview that followed. Hardened in +his rebellion, the unhappy Elfric defied his father’s authority and +justified his sin, flatly refusing to return home, in which he pretended to be +justified by “the duty a subject owed to his sovereign.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus roused to energy, Ella solemnly adjured his boy to remember the story of +his uncle Oswald, and the sad fate he had met with. It was very seldom indeed +that Ella alluded to his unhappy brother, the story was too painful; but now +that Elfric seemed to be commencing a similar course of disobedience, the +example of the miserable outlaw came too forcibly to his mind to be altogether +suppressed. +</p> + +<p> +“Beware, my son,” added Ella, “lest the curse which fell upon +Oswald fall upon you, and your younger brother succeed to your +inheritance.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not a large one,” said Elfric, “and in that case, the +king whom I serve will find me a better one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not written, ‘Put not your trust in princes?’ O my +son, my son; you will bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave!” +</p> + +<p> +It was of no avail. The old thane arose in the morning with the intention of +taking Elfric home even by force, such force as Dunstan had used, if necessary, +but found that the youth had disappeared in the night; neither could he learn +what had become of him, but he shrewdly guessed that the young king could have +told him. +</p> + +<p> +Broken-hearted by his son’s cruel desertion, the thane of Æscendune +returned home alone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/> +GLASTONBURY ABBEY.</h2> + +<p> +Rich in historical associations and reputed sanctity, the abbey of Glastonbury +was the ecclesiastical centre of western England. Here grew the holy thorn +which Joseph of Arimathea had planted when, fatigued with travel, he had struck +his staff into the ground, and lo! a goodly tree; here was the holy well of +which he had drunk, and where he baptized his converts, so that its waters +became possessed of miraculous power to heal diseases. +</p> + +<p> +Here again were memorials, dear to the vanquished Welsh; for did not Arthur, +the great King Arthur, the hero of a thousand fights, the subject of +gleeman’s melody and of the minstrel’s praise, lie buried here? if +indeed he were dead, and not spirited away by magic power. +</p> + +<p> +A Welsh population still existed around the abbey, for it was near the borders +of West Wales, as a large portion of Devon and Cornwall was then called, and +Exeter had not long become an English town.<a href="#EndNoteA14sym" +name="EndNoteA14anc"><sup>xiv</sup></a> The legends of Glastonbury were nearly +all of that distant day when the Saxons and Angles had not yet discovered +Britain, and she reposed safe under the protection of mighty Rome; hence, it +was the object of pilgrimage and of deep veneration to all those of Celtic +blood, while the English were unwilling to be behind in their veneration. +</p> + +<p> +Here, in the first year of the great English king Athelstane, Dunstan was born, +the son of Herstan and Kynedred, both persons of rank—a man destined to +influence the Anglo-Saxon race first in person and then in spirit for +generations—the greatest man of his time, whether, as his contemporaries +thought, mighty for good, or, as men of narrower minds have thought, mighty for +evil. +</p> + +<p> +In his early youth, Glastonbury lay, as it lies now, in ruin and decay; the +Danes had ravaged it, and its holy walls were no longer eloquent with prayer +and praise. Yet the old inhabitants still talked with regret of the departed +glories of the fane; the pilgrim and the stranger still visited the consecrated +well, hoping to gain strength from its healing wave, for the soil had been +hallowed by the blood of martyrs and the holy lives of saints; here kings and +nobles, laying aside their greatness, had retired to prepare for the long and +endless home, and in the calm seclusion of the cloister had found peace. +</p> + +<p> +Here the mind of the young Dunstan was moulded for his future work; here, weak +in body, but precocious in intellect, he drew in, as if with his vital breath, +legend and tradition; here, from a body of Scottish missionaries, or, as we +should now call them, Irish,<a href="#EndNoteA15sym" +name="EndNoteA15anc"><sup>xv</sup></a> he learned with rapidity all that a boy +could acquire of civil or ecclesiastical lore, and both in Latin and in +theology his progress amazed his tutors. +</p> + +<p> +Up to this time the world had held possession of his heart, and, balancing the +advantages of a religious and a secular life, he chose, as most young people +would choose, the attractions of court, to which his parents’ rank +entitled him, and leaving Glastonbury he repaired to the court of Edmund. +</p> + +<p> +There his extraordinary talents excited envy, and he was accused of magical +arts: his harp had been heard to pour forth strains of ravishing beauty when no +human hand was near, and other like prodigies, savouring of the black art, were +said to attend him, so that he fled the court, and took refuge with his uncle, +Elphege, the Bishop of Winchester. +</p> + +<p> +A long illness followed, during which the youth, disgusted with the world, and +startled by his narrow escape from death, reversed the choice he had previously +made, and renounced the world and its pleasures. +</p> + +<p> +Ordained priest at Winchester, he was sent back with a monk’s attire to +Glastonbury, where he gave himself up to austerities, such as, in a greater or +less degree, always accompanied a conversion in those days; here miracles were +reported to attend him, and stories of his personal conflicts with the Evil One +were handed from mouth to mouth, until his fame had filled the country round.<a +href="#EndNoteA16sym" name="EndNoteA16anc"><sup>xvi</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +The influence he rapidly acquired enabled him to commence the great work of +rebuilding Glastonbury, in which he was only interrupted by the frequent calls +which he had to court, to become the adviser of King Edmund; where indeed he +was often in the discharge of the office of prime minister of the kingdom, and +showed as much aptitude in civil as in ecclesiastical affairs. +</p> + +<p> +Glastonbury being rebuilt, the Benedictine rule <a href="#EndNoteA17sym" +name="EndNoteA17anc"><sup>xvii</sup></a> was introduced, and Dunstan himself +became abbot. It was far the noblest and best monastic code of the day, being +peculiarly adapted to prevent the cloister from becoming the abode of either +idleness or profligacy. +</p> + +<p> +But this was not done without much opposition; the secular priests—as the +married clergy and those who lived amongst their flocks (as English clergy do +now) were called—opposed the introduction of the Benedictine rule with +all their might, and were always thorns in Dunstan’s side. +</p> + +<p> +The unfortunate Edmund, after the sad event at Pucklechurch, on the feast of +St. Augustine, was buried at Glastonbury by the abbot, and his two sons, Edwy +and Edgar, were put under Dunstan’s especial care by the new king Edred. +The rest of the story is tolerably well known to our readers. +</p> + +<p> +The first steps of Edwy’s reign were all taken with a view to one great +end—to revenge himself and to destroy Dunstan, who, aware of the royal +enmity, and of his inability to restrain the sovereign, withdrew himself +quietly to Glastonbury, and confined himself to the discharge of his duties as +its abbot. +</p> + +<p> +But this did not satisfy Edwy, who, panting for the ruin of the monk he hated, +sought occasion for a quarrel, and soon found it. Dunstan had been the royal +almoner, and had had the disposal of large sums of money, for purposes +connected with the Church, on which they had been strictly expended. Now Edwy +required a strict account of all these disbursements, which Dunstan refused to +give, saying it had already been given to Edred, and that no person had any +right to investigate the charities of the departed king. +</p> + +<p> +His stout resistance gained the day in the first instance, but Edwy never felt +at rest while Dunstan lived at peace in the land, and Ethelgiva and her fair +daughter were ever inciting him to fresh acts of hostility, little as he needed +such incitement. +</p> + +<p> +The first measures were of a very dishonourable kind. Evil reports were spread +abroad to destroy the character of the great abbot, and prepare people’s +minds for his disgrace: then disaffection was stirred up amongst the secular +clergy surrounding Glastonbury—a very easy thing; and attempts were made +in vain to create a faction against him in his own abbey; then at last the +neighbouring thanes, many of Danish extraction and scarcely Christian, were +stirred up to invade the territory of the abbey, and were promised immunity and +secure possession of their plunder. They liked the pleasant excitement of +galloping over Dunstan’s ecclesiastical patrimony, of plundering the +farms and driving away the cattle, and there was scarcely a night in which some +fresh outrage was not committed. At this point the action of our tale +recommences. +</p> + +<p> +It will be remembered that the father of Ella had found relief from his grief, +after the death of his unhappy son Oswald, in building and endowing the +monastery of St. Wilfred, situate on the river’s bank, at a short +distance from the hall. +</p> + +<p> +The completion of the work had, however, been reserved for his son, and, +everything being now done, it became the earnest desire of Ella, with the +consent of the brethren who had been gathered into the incomplete building, to +place it under the Benedictine rule. +</p> + +<p> +For this end he determined to send a messenger to negotiate with Dunstan at +Glastonbury, and, yielding to Alfred’s most earnest request, he consented +to send him, in company with Father Cuthbert, who was to be the future prior, +upon the mission. +</p> + +<p> +Since the desertion of Elfric, his brother Alfred had been as a ministering +angel to his father, so tender had been his affection, yet so manly and pure. +He was by nature gifted with great talents, and his progress in ecclesiastical +lore, almost the only lore of the day, would have well fitted him for the +Church; but if this idea had ever been in the mind of the thane, he put it +aside after the departure of Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +But it must not be supposed that the only literature of the period was in +Latin. Alfred, the great King Alfred, skillful in learning as in war, had +translated into English (as we have mentioned earlier in our tale) the +<i>History of the World</i>, by Orosius, and other works, which formed a part +of the royal library in the palace of Edred. All these works were known to his +young namesake, Alfred, far better than they had been either to Edwy or Elfric, +in their idleness, and he was well informed beyond the average scope of his +time. But his imagination had long been fired by the accounts he had received +of Glastonbury and its sanctuary, so that he eagerly besought his father to +allow him to go thither. +</p> + +<p> +But the poor old thane felt much like Jacob when he was begged to send Benjamin +into Egypt. Elfric was not, so far as home ties were concerned, they had never +heard of him since the coronation day, and now they would take Alfred from him. +</p> + +<p> +It may seem strange to our readers that Ella should regard a journey from the +Midlands to Glastonbury in so serious a light; but Wessex and Mercia had long +been independent states, communication infrequent, and it would certainly be +many weeks before Alfred could return; while inexperience magnified the actual +dangers of the way. +</p> + +<p> +Coaches and carriages were not in use, neither would the state of the roads +have rendered such use practicable. All travellers were forced to journey on +horseback, and, like Elfric when he departed from home, to carry all their +baggage in a similar manner. +</p> + +<p> +The navigation of the Avon, which would have opened the readiest road to the +southwest, was impeded by sandbanks and rapids; there were as yet no locks, no +canals. +</p> + +<p> +Once the Romans had made matchless roads, as in other parts of their empire, +but not a stone had been laid thereon since the days of Hengist and Horsa, and +many a stone had been taken away for building purposes, or to pave the +courtyards of Saxon homes.<a href="#EndNoteA18sym" +name="EndNoteA18anc"><sup>xviii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Still the ancient Foss Way, which once extended from Lincolnshire to +Devonshire, formed the best route, and it was decided to travel by it, making a +brief detour, so as to enable the party to pass the first night at the +residence of an old friend of the family who dwelt on the high borderland which +separates the counties of Oxford and Warwick, in old times the frontier between +the two Celtic tribes, the Dobuni and the Carnabii. +</p> + +<p> +So Father Cuthbert and Alfred, with three attendant serfs, left Æscendune +early on a fine summer morning, and followed a byroad through the forest, +until, after a few difficulties, arising from entanglement in copse or swamp, +they reached the Foss Way. Wide and spacious, this grand old road ran through +the dense forest in an almost unbroken line; huge trees overshadowed it on +either side, and the growth of underwood was so dense that no one could +penetrate it without difficulty. Sometimes the scene changed, and a dense +swamp, amidst which the timber of former generations rotted away, succeeded, +but the grand old road still offered, even in its decay, a firm and sure +footing. Built with consummate skill, the lower strata of which it was composed +remained so firm and unyielding, that, could the Romans but have returned for a +few years, they might have restored it to its ancient perfection, when the +traveller might post rapidly upon it from Lincoln even to Totness in +Devonshire. +</p> + +<p> +Little, however, did our travellers think of the grand men of old who had built +this mighty causeway six or seven centuries earlier. Their chief feeling, when +they reached it, was one of relief; the change was so acceptable from the +tangled and miry bypath through the forest. +</p> + +<p> +“Holy St. Wilfred,” exclaimed Father Cuthbert, “but my steed +hath wallowed like a hog. I have sunk in the deep mire where was no +footing.” +</p> + +<p> +“A little grooming will soon make him clean again, father.” +</p> + +<p> +“But verily we have passed through a slough and a wilderness, and my +inner man needeth refreshment; let us even partake of the savoury pies +wherewith the provident care of thy father hath provided us.” +</p> + +<p> +The suggestion was by no means a bad one, and the party sat down on a green and +sloping bank, overshadowed by a mighty oak which grew by the wayside. It was +noontide, and the shelter from the heat was not at all unpleasant. Their +wallets were overhauled, and choice provision found against famine by the road. +There were few, very few inns where travellers could obtain decent +accommodation, and every preparation had been made for a camp out when +necessary. +</p> + +<p> +So they ate their midday meal with thankfulness of heart, and reclined awhile +ere courting more fatigue. The day was lovely, and the silence of the woods +almost oppressive; nought save the hum of insects broke its tranquillity. +</p> + +<p> +Fatigued by the exertions of the morning, the whole party fell asleep; the +gentle breeze, the quiet rustling of the leaves, all combined to lull the +senses. While they thus slept, the day wore on, and the sun was declining when +they awoke and wondered that they had wasted their time for so long a period. +</p> + +<p> +Starting again with renewed energy, they travelled onward through the mighty +forest till sunset, when they approached the high ground which now runs along +the northern boundary of Oxfordshire and of which Edgehill forms a portion. +Though progress had been slow, for the road, although secure, was yet in so +neglected a state as to form an obstacle to rapid travelling, and they had met +no fellow travellers. Leaving the Foss Way, which followed the valley, and +slowly ascending the hill by a well-marked track, they looked back from its +summit upon a glorious view. Far as the eye could reach stretched the forest to +the northward, one huge unbroken expanse save where the thin wreaths of smoke +showed some village or homestead, where English farmers already wrestled with +the obstacles nature had formed. But westward the view was more home-like; the +setting sun was sinking behind the huge heights now known as the Malvern Hills, +which reared their forms proudly in the distant horizon. +</p> + +<p> +The western sky was rich in the hues of the departing sun, which cast its +declining beams upon village and homestead, thinly scattered in the fertile +vale through which the Foss Way pursued its course. +</p> + +<p> +But our travellers did not stay long to contemplate the beauty of the scene; +they were yet ten miles from the hospitable roof where they had purposed +spending the night, and they had overslept themselves so long at their noontide +halt, that they found darkness growing apace, while their weary animals could +scarcely advance farther. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no inn, no Christian dwelling near, where we may repose? Verily +my limbs bend beneath me with fatigue,” said Father Cuthbert. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no dwelling of Christian men nearer than the halls of the Thane +of Rollrich, and we shall scarcely reach them for a couple of hours,” +said Oswy, the serf. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art a Job’s comforter. What sayest thou, Anlac?” +</p> + +<p> +“There are the remains of an old temple of heathen times not far from +here, a little on the right hand of the road, but they say the place is +haunted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has it a roof to shelter us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Part of the ruins are well covered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then thither we will go. Peradventure it will prove a safe abiding place +against wolves or evil men, and if there be demons we must even exorcise +them.” +</p> + +<p> +When they had emerged from the forest, they had, as we have seen, ascended the +high tableland which formed the northern frontier of the territory of the +Dobuni—passing over the very ground where, seven hundred years later, the +troops of the King and the Parliament were arrayed against each other in deadly +combat for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +But at this remote period the country where the Celts had once lived, and +whence their civilised descendants had been driven by the English, had become a +barren moorland. Scarce a tree grew on the heights, but a wild common, with +valley and hill alternating, much as on Dartmoor at the present day, stretched +before the travellers, and was traversed by the old Roman trackway. Dreary +indeed it looked in the darkening twilight; here and there some huge crag +overtopped the road, and then the track lay along a flat surface. It was after +passing some huge misshapen stones, which spoke of early Celtic worship, that +suddenly, in the distance on the right, the ruined temple lay before them. +</p> + +<p> +Pillars of beautiful workmanship, evidently reared by Roman skill, surrounded a +paved quadrangle raised upon a terrace approached on all sides by steps. These +steps and the pavement were alike of stone, but where weeds could grow they had +grown, and the footing was damp and slippery with rank vegetation and fungus +growth. +</p> + +<p> +At the extremity of the quadrangle the roof still partly covered the adytum or +shrine from the sky, the platform reared itself upon its flight of massive +steps where early British Christianity had demolished the idol, and beneath +were chambers once appropriated to the use of the priests, which, by the aid of +fire, could shortly be made habitable. +</p> + +<p> +There was plenty of brushwood and underwood near, and our travellers speedily +made a large fire, which expelled the damp from the place, albeit, as the smoke +could only escape by an aperture in the roof, which, it is needless to say, was +not embraced in the original design of the architect, it was not till the blaze +had subsided and the glowing embers alone warmed the chamber, that mortal lungs +could bear the stifling atmosphere, so charged had it been with smoke. +</p> + +<p> +Still it was very acceptable shelter to the travellers, who must otherwise have +camped out on the exposed moorland, and they made a hearty and comfortable +meal, which being concluded, Father Cuthbert made a very brief address. +</p> + +<p> +“My brethren,” he said, “we have travelled, like Abraham from +Ur of the Chaldees, not ‘<i>sine numine</i>,’ that is not without +God’s protection; and as we are about to sleep in a place where devils +once deluded Christian people, it will not be amiss to say the night song, and +commend ourselves ‘<i>in manus Altissimi</i>,’ that is to say, to +God’s care.” +</p> + +<p> +The compline service was familiar to each one present, and Father Cuthbert +intoned it in a stentorian voice, particularly those portions of the 91st Psalm +which seemed to defy the Evil One, and he recited just as if he were sure Satan +was listening: +</p> + +<p> +“Thou shalt go upon the lion and the adder; the young lion and the dragon +shalt thou tread under thy feet.” +</p> + +<p> +All the company seemed to feel comfort in the words, and, first posting a +sentinel, to be relieved every three hours, they commended themselves to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred found his couch very pleasant at first, but before he had been long +asleep his rest became disturbed by singular dreams. He thought he was standing +within a grassy glade in a deep forest; it was darkening twilight, and he felt +anxious to find his way from the spot, when his guardian angel appeared to him, +and pointed out a narrow track between two huge rocks. He followed until he +heard many voices, and saw a strange light reflected on the tree tops, as if +from beneath, when amidst the din of voices he recognised Elfric’s tones. +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldst thou save thy brother, then proceed,” his guardian angel +seemed to whisper. +</p> + +<p> +He strove, in his dream, to proceed, when he awoke so vividly impressed that he +felt convinced coming events were casting their shadows before. He could not +drive the thought of Elfric from his mind; he slept, but again in wild dreams +his brother seemed to appear; once he seemed to oppose Elfric’s passage +over a plank which crossed a roaring torrent; then he seemed as if he were +falling, falling, amidst rushing waters, when he awoke. +</p> + +<p> +“I can sleep no longer. I will look out at the night,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +A faint moon had arisen, and lent an uncertain light to the outlines of hill, +crag, and moorland, while it gilded the cornice above, where the wind seemed to +linger and moan over departed greatness. The Druidical worship of olden days, +the deluded worshippers now turned into dust, and the cruel rites of their +bloodstained worship, older even than those of the ruined temple, rose before +his imagination, until fancy seemed to people the silent wastes before him with +those who had once crowded round that circle of misshapen stones which stood +out vividly on the verge of the plain. +</p> + +<p> +He felt that nameless fear which such thoughts excite so strongly, that he +sought the company of the sentinel whom they had posted to guard their +slumbers, and found not one but two at the post. +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy and Anlac! both watching?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was too lonesome for one,” said Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen or heard aught amiss?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. About an hour ago, there were cries such as men make when they die +in torture, smothered by other sounds like the beating of drums, blowing of +horns, and I know not what.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were surely dreaming?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; it came from yonder circle of stones, and a light like that of a +great fire seemed to shine around.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred made no reply; but he remembered that they had talked of the Druidical +rites the night before, and thought that the idea had taken such hold upon the +minds of his followers as to suggest the sounds to their fancy. Still he +watched with them till the first red streak of day appeared in the east. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/> +ELFRIC AND ALFRED.</h2> + +<p> +Early in the morning our travellers arose and took their way through an open +country which abounded with British and Roman remains; no fewer than three +entrenched camps, once fortifying the frontier of the Dobuni, lying within +sight or hard by the road, which, skirting the summit of the watershed between +the Thames and the Avon, afforded magnificent views. +</p> + +<p> +About an hour after starting they came upon a singular monument of Druidical +times, consisting of sixty huge stones arranged in a circular form, with an +entrance at the northeast, while a single rock or large stone, the largest of +all, stood apart from the circle, as if looking down into the valley beneath.<a +href="#EndNoteA19sym" name="EndNoteA19anc"><sup>xix</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +“What can be the origin of this circle?” said Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“It belongs to the old days of heathenesse; before the Welsh were +conquered by the Romans, perhaps before our Blessed Lord came into the world, +these stones were placed as you now see them,” replied Father Cuthbert. +</p> + +<p> +“What purpose could they serve?” +</p> + +<p> +“For their devil worship, I suppose; you see those five stones which +stand at some little distance?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are the Five Whispering Knights,” said Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +“They are the remains of a cromlech or altar whereon they offered their +sons and daughters unto devils, and shed innocent blood, wherefore the Lord +brought the Romans upon them.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the Romans were idolatrous, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet their religion was milder than the one it superseded. Jupiter +required no human sacrifices; and even otherwise, God has said that the wicked +man is often His sword to avenge Him of His adversaries.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy looks as if he had a tale to tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak out, Oswy, and let us all hear,” said the good father. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” said Oswy, “these were not once stones at all, +but living men—a king, five knights, and sixty soldiers—who came to +take Long Compton, the town down there, in the valley; but it so happened that +a great enchanter dwelt there, and being out that morning he saw them coming, +muttered his spells, and while the king —that stone yonder—was in +front looking down on his prey, the five knights all whispering together, and +the sixty soldiers behind in a circle, they were all suddenly changed into +stone.” +</p> + +<p> +They all laughed heartily at this, and leaving the Rholdrwyg Stones, turned +aside to the hospitable hall where they ought to have spent the previous night. +So delighted was the Thane of Rholdrwyg or Rollrich to receive his guests that +he detained them almost by force all that day, and it was only on the morrow +that he permitted them to continue their journey. +</p> + +<p> +They joined the Foss Way again after a few miles at Stow on the Wold; the road +was so good that they succeeded in reaching Cirencester, the ancient Corinium, +that night, a distance of nearly thirty miles. Here they found a considerable +population, for the town had been one of great importance, and was still one of +the chief cities of southern Mercia, full of the remains of her departed Roman +greatness, with shattered column and shapely arch yet diversifying the thatched +hovels of the Mercians. +</p> + +<p> +Two more days brought them to Bath, but the old Roman city had been utterly +destroyed, and long subsequently the English town had been founded upon its +site, so that there seemed no identity between Bath and Aqua Solis, such as +prevailed between Cirencester and Corinium. +</p> + +<p> +One day’s journey from Bath brought them at eventide within an easy day +of Glastonbury, so that they paused in their journey for the last time at a +well-known hostelry, chiefly occupied by pilgrims bound for Glastonbury, for +the morrow was a high festival, or rather the commencement of one, and Dunstan +was expected to conduct the ceremonies in person. +</p> + +<p> +So crowded was the hostelry that Alfred and his revered tutor could only obtain +a small chamber for their private accommodation, while their servants were +forced to content themselves with such share of the straw of the outbuildings +as they could obtain, in company with many others. +</p> + +<p> +It was still early when they stopped at the inn, for one of their horses, which +they had purchased by the way, had broken down so completely that they could +not well proceed, and they were about to enter a dark and dangerous forest, +full of ravenous bears and wolves, which had already cast its shade upon their +path. +</p> + +<p> +But this was not an uncommon feature in English travelling of that century, +when there were no horses to be hired at the inns, and travellers could only +purchase the animals they needed (if there were any to be sold); the forest, +too, was reported to be the haunt of freebooters, and men dared to affirm that +they were encouraged by the king to prey upon the fraternity at Glastonbury. +</p> + +<p> +Still the dangers of the forest did not deter Alfred, who dearly loved woodland +scenery and sport, from strolling therein when their hasty meal had been +despatched, weary of the continuous objurgations and smalltalk of the crowded +inn. +</p> + +<p> +He had wandered some distance, lost in thought, when all at once he started in +some surprise, for the spot on which he was seemed familiar to him, although he +had never been in Wessex before. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he certainly knew the glade, with the fine beech trees surrounding it: +where could he have seen it before? All at once he remembered his dream in the +ruined temple, and started to discover the secret foreknowledge he had thus +possessed. +</p> + +<p> +He wandered up and down the glade till it became dusk, and then shook off the +thoughts to which he had been a prey, and started to return to the inn, when, +to his dismay, he found he had forgotten in which direction it lay. +</p> + +<p> +While seeking to find the path by which he had entered the glade, he suddenly +noticed a beaten track between two huge rocks, which seemed to point in the +direction he had come, and yet which he recognised as the path he had been +bidden to follow in his dream. He hesitated not, but committed himself to it, +while darkness seemed to increase each moment. +</p> + +<p> +He was beginning to fear the dangers of a night in the woods, when he was +startled by a sound as of many low voices, and at the same moment became +conscious that a light was tinging with red the upper branches of the trees at +no little distance, as if proceeding from some fire, hidden by the formation of +the ground. +</p> + +<p> +At first he thought that he was in the neighbourhood of outlaws, and tried to +retire, but, as in his dream, he felt so strong an impulse to discover the +party whom the woods concealed that he persevered. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he stopped short, for he had come to the edge of a kind of natural +amphitheatre, a deep hollow in the earth, the sides of which were covered with +bushes and trees, while the area at the bottom might perhaps have covered a +hundred square yards, and was clothed with verdant turf. Not one, but several +fires were burning, and around them were reclining small groups of armed men, +while some were walking about chatting with each other. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred gazed in much surprise, for the party did not at all realise his +conception of a body of freebooters or robbers; they all seemed to wear the +same uniform, and to resemble each other in their accoutrements and +characteristics; they rather resembled, in short, a detachment of regular +forces than a body of men whom chance might have thrown together, or the +fortune of predatory war. +</p> + +<p> +While he gazed upon them, two of their number, whose attire was rich and +costly, and who seemed to be of higher rank than the rest, perhaps their +officers, attracted his attention as they walked near the spot where, clinging +to a tree, he overlooked the encampment from above. +</p> + +<p> +One of them was a tall, dark warrior, whose whole demeanour was that of the +professional soldier, whose dress was plain yet rich, and who might easily be +guessed to be the commander of the party. He was talking earnestly, but in a +subdued tone, to his younger companion, whom he seemed to be labouring to +convince of the propriety of some course of action. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred watched them eagerly; the form of the younger—for so he appeared +by his slender frame—seemed familiar to him, and when at last they turned +their faces and walked towards him, the light of a neighbouring fire showed him +the face of his brother Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“My dream!” he mentally exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +They were evidently talking about some very important subject, and it was also +evident that the objections of the younger, whatever they might be, were +becoming rapidly overruled, when, as chance, if it were chance, would have it, +they paused in their circuit of the little camp just beneath the tree where +Alfred was posted. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” said the elder, “that our course is clear, so +definitely clear that we have but to do our duty to the king, while we avenge a +thousand little insults we have ourselves received from this insolent +monk—such insults as warriors wash out with blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet he is a churchman, and it would be called utter sacrilege.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sacrilege! is a churchman’s blood redder than that of layman, and +is he not doomed as a traitor by a judgment as righteous as ever English law +pronounced! did he not keep Edwy from his throne during the lifetime of the +usurper Edred!” +</p> + +<p> +“That was the sentence of the Witan, and you served Edred.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not owe the allegiance of an Englishman to either, being of +foreign birth, and so was no traitor; as for the Witan, it is well known +Dunstan influenced their decision at the death of the royal Edmund.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never heard the assertion before.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have many things still to learn; you are but young as yet. But let +it pass. Does not his conduct to Queen Elgiva merit death!” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it does. But still not without sentence of law.” +</p> + +<p> +“That sentence has been in fact pronounced, for in such cases as these, +where the subject is too powerful for the direct action of the law to reach +him, the decision of the king and council must pass for law, and they have +decided that Dunstan must die, and have left the execution of the +sentence—to us.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not add that the council in question consisted of the giddy young nobles +who had surrounded Edwy from the first, aided by a few hoary sinners whose +lives of plunder and rapine had given them a personal hatred of the Church. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric heaved a sigh, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“If so, I suppose I must obey; but I wish I had not been sent on the +expedition.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is to test your loyalty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it shall be proved. I have no personal motives of gratitude towards +Dunstan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather the contrary.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather the contrary, as you say. But what sound was that? Surely +something stirred the bush!” +</p> + +<p> +“A rabbit or a hare. You are becoming fanciful and timid. Well, you will +remember that tomorrow there must be no timidity, no yielding to what some +would call conscience, but wise men the scruples of superstition. We shall not +reach the monastery till dark, most of the visitors will then have quitted it, +and we shall take the old fox in a trap.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will not slay him in cold blood!” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I shall bid him follow me to the king, and if he and his resist, as +probably they will, then their blood be on their own heads. But +surely—” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a large stone, which Alfred had most inopportunely dislodged, +rolled down the bank, and made Elfric, who was in its path, leap aside. Alfred, +whose foot had rested upon it, slipped, and for a moment seemed in danger of +following the stone, but he had happily time to grasp the tree securely, and by +its aid he drew himself back and darted into the wood. +</p> + +<p> +Luckily there was moonlight enough to guide him by the track he had hitherto +followed, and he ran forward, dreading nothing so much as to fall into the +hands of the friends of his brother, and trusting that he might prevent the +execution of the foul deed he had heard meditated. He ran for a long distance +before he paused, when he became aware that pursuers were on his track. Luckily +his life had been spent so much in the open air that he was capable of great +exertion, and could run well. So he resumed his course, although he knew not +where it would lead him, and soon had the pleasure of feeling that he was +distancing his pursuers. Yet every time he ran over a piece of smooth turf he +fancied he could hear them in his rear, and it was with the greatest feeling of +relief that he suddenly emerged from the wood upon the Foss Way, and saw the +lights of the hostelry at no great distance below him. +</p> + +<p> +His pursuers did not follow him farther, probably unwilling to betray their +presence to the neighbourhood, and perhaps utterly unconscious that the +intruder upon their peace was possessed of any dangerous secrets, or other than +some rustic woodman belated on his homeward way, who would be unable in any +degree to interfere with them or to guess their designs. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not till the ardour of his flight had abated, that Alfred could +fully realise that his unhappy brother was committed to a deed of scandalous +atrocity, and the discovery was hard for him to bear. The strong impression +which his dream had made upon him—an impression that he was to be the +means of saving his brother from some great sin—came upon him now with +greater force than ever, and was of great comfort. The identity of the scenery +he had seen in dreamland with the actual scenery he had gone through, made him +feel that he was under the special guidance of Providence. +</p> + +<p> +Returning to the inn he sought Father Cuthbert, and found him somewhat uneasy +at his long absence, and to him he communicated all that he had seen and heard. +</p> + +<p> +The good father was a man of sound sense but of much affection, and at first he +could not credit that the boy he had loved so well, Elfric of Æscendune, +should have grown to be the associate of murderers, for such only could either +he or Alfred style the agents of Edwy’s wrath. +</p> + +<p> +But, once fully convinced, he was equal to the emergency. +</p> + +<p> +“We will not start at once, we should but break down on the road, and +defeat our own object. We must rest quietly, and sleep soundly if possible, and +start with the earliest dawn. We shall reach Glastonbury by midday, and be able +to warn the holy abbot of his danger in good time.” +</p> + +<p> +So Alfred was forced to curb his impatience and to try to sleep soundly. Father +Cuthbert soon gave good assurance that he was asleep; but the noisy manner in +which the assurance was given banished sleep from the eyelids of his anxious +pupil. At length he yielded to weariness both of mind and body, and the +overwrought brain was still. +</p> + +<p> +He was but little refreshed when he heard Father Cuthbert’s morning +salutation, “<i>Benedicamus Domino</i>,” and could hardly stammer +out the customary reply, “<i>Deo gratias</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Every one rose early in those days, and the timely departure of the party from +Æscendune excited no special comment. Hundreds of pilgrims were on the road, +and Alfred expressed his conviction that there would be force enough at +Glastonbury to protect Dunstan, to which Father Cuthbert +replied—“If he would accept such protection.” +</p> + +<p> +On former days their journey had been frequently impeded by broken bridges and +dangerous fords; but as they drew near Glastonbury the presence of a mighty +civilising power became manifest. The fields were well tilled, for the +possessions for miles around the abbey were let to tenant farmers by the monks, +who had first reclaimed them from the wilderness. The farm houses and the +abodes of the poor were better constructed, and the streams were all bridged +over, while the old Roman road was kept in tolerable repair. +</p> + +<p> +A short distance before they reached the city, the pilgrims, who were a space +in advance of the party, came in sight of the towers of the monastery, +whereupon they all paused for one moment, and raised the solemn strain then but +recently composed— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I.<br/> +Founded on the Rock of Ages,<br/> +Salem, city of the blest,<br/> +Built of living stones most precious,<br/> +Vision of eternal rest,<br/> +Angel hands, in love attending,<br/> +Thee in bridal robes invest.<br/> +II.<br/> +Down from God all new descending<br/> +Thee our joyful eyes behold,<br/> +Like a bride adorned for spousals,<br/> +Decked with radiant wealth untold;<br/> +All thy streets and walls are fashioned,<br/> +All are bright with purest gold!<br/> +III.<br/> +Gates of pearl, for ever open,<br/> +Welcome there the loved, the lost;<br/> +Ransomed by their Saviour’s merits;<br/> +This the price their freedom cost:<br/> +City of eternal refuge,<br/> +Haven of the tempest-tost.<br/> +IV.<br/> +Fierce the blow, and firm the pressure,<br/> +Which hath polished thus each stone:<br/> +Well the Mastermind hath fitted<br/> +To his chosen place each one.<br/> +When the Architect takes reck’ning,<br/> +He will count the work His Own.<br/> +V.<br/> +Glory be to God, the Father;<br/> +Glory to th’ Eternal Son;<br/> +Glory to the Blessed Spirit:<br/> +One in Three, and Three in One.<br/> +Glory, honour, might, dominion,<br/> +While eternal ages run.<br/> +Amen. <a href="#EndNoteA20sym" name="EndNoteA20anc">xx</a> +</p> + +<p> +The grand strains seemed to bring assurance of Divine aid to Alfred, and he +could but imitate Father Cuthbert, who lifted up his stentorian voice and +thundered out in chorus, as they drew near the pilgrims. +</p> + +<p> +Here they left the Foss Way for the side road leading to the monastery, now +only a short distance from them. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/> +THE FLIGHT OF DUNSTAN.</h2> + +<p> +It was the day of St. Alban, the protomartyr of England, and the saint was +greatly honoured at Glastonbury, where, as we have seen, Dunstan was in +residence, and, as a natural consequence, every department of the monastic life +was quickened by his presence. The abbey was full of monks who had professed +the Benedictine rule, and having but recently been rebuilt, it possessed many +improvements hardly yet introduced into English architecture in general. The +greater part of the building was of stone, and it was not, in its general +features, unlike some of the older colleges at Oxford or Cambridge, although +the order of the architecture was, of course, exclusively that of the Saxon +period, characterised by the heavy and massive, yet imposing, circular arch. +</p> + +<p> +But upon the church or abbey chapel all the skill of the architect had been +concentrated, and it seemed worthy alike of its founder and of its object. Seen +upon the morning in question, when the bright summer sun filled every corner +with gladsome light, just as the long procession of white-robed priests, and +monks in their sombre garb, with their hoods thrown back, were entering for +high mass, and the choral psalm arose, it was peculiarly imposing. +</p> + +<p> +The procession had not long entered the church, when the party of pilgrims we +have described, closely followed by our friends from Æscendune, entered the +quadrangle, and crossed it to the great porch of the church. It was with the +greatest difficulty they could enter, for the whole floor of the huge building +was crowded with kneeling worshippers. The portion of Scripture appointed for +the epistle was being chanted, and the words struck Alfred’s ears as he +entered—“He pleased God, and was beloved of Him, so that, living +among sinners, he was translated.” +</p> + +<p> +The words seemed to come upon him with special application to the danger the +great abbot was in, and the thought that the martyr’s day might be +stained by a deed of blood, or, as some might say, hallowed by another +martyrdom, added to his agitation. +</p> + +<p> +And now he had gained a position where the high altar was in full view, +illuminated by its countless tapers, and fragrant with aromatic odours. There, +in the centre of the altar, his face turned to the people as the sequence was +ended, and the chanting of the gospel from the rood loft began, stood the +celebrant, and Alfred gazed for the first time upon the face of Dunstan, +brought out in strong relief by the glare of the artificial light. +</p> + +<p> +He strove earnestly to concentrate his thoughts upon the sacred words. They +were from the sixteenth of St. Matthew, beginning at the words: +</p> + +<p> +“Then said Jesus unto His disciples, If any man will come after Me, let +him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. +</p> + +<p> +“For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it and whosoever will lose +his life for My sake, shall find it.” +</p> + +<p> +He could not but feel the strange coincidence that words such as these should +come to strengthen him, when he felt he had most need to shelter himself under +the shadow of the Cross. The service proceeded, the creed, sanctus, and other +choral portions being sung by the whole monastic body in sonorous strains; and +for a time Alfred was able to make a virtue of necessity, and to give himself +wholly to the solemnity; but when it was over and the procession left the +church, he sought an immediate interview with the abbot, in company with Father +Cuthbert. +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan had removed his sacerdotal garments, and had returned to his own cell, +which only differed in size from the cells of his brethren. The furniture was +studiously plain: hard wooden chairs; an unvarnished table; a wooden bedstead, +with no bed, and only a loose coverlet of sackcloth; the walls uncovered by +tapestry; the floor unfurnished with rushes;—such was the chamber of the +man who had ruled England, and still exercised the most unbounded spiritual +influence in the land. +</p> + +<p> +There was no ostentation in this; every monk in the monastery lived in similar +simplicity. Precious books and manuscripts, deeply laden with gold and colours, +were deposited on coarse wooden shelves, while the Benedictine Breviary lay on +the table, written by some learned and painstaking scribe, skilful in +illumination. +</p> + +<p> +The appearance of the abbot was little changed since we last beheld him; +perhaps care had traced a few more lines in his countenance, and his general +manner was more prompt and decided, now that danger menaced him, for menace him +he knew it did, although he hardly knew from what quarter the bolt would fall. +</p> + +<p> +A lay brother brought him some slight refreshment, the first he had taken +during the day. +</p> + +<p> +The humility inculcated by each precept of the order forbade the brother in +question to speak until his superior gave him leave to do so; but Dunstan read +at once the desire of his subordinate, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“What hast thou to tell me, Brother Osgood?” +</p> + +<p> +“Many people are without, seeking speech of thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is the case each day; are there any whose business appears +pressing?” +</p> + +<p> +“A company has arrived from Æscendune, or some such place in Mercia, and +two of the party—a priest and a young layman—seek an immediate +interview, saying their business is of life and death.” +</p> + +<p> +“Æscendune!—admit them first.” +</p> + +<p> +The brother left the cell at once, and soon returned, ushering in Father +Cuthbert and Alfred, who saluted the great churchman with all due humility, and +waited for him to speak, not without much evident uneasiness; perhaps some +little impatience was also manifest. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you of the house of Æscendune, my son?” enquired Dunstan of +Alfred. “Methinks I know you by your likeness to your brother +Elfric.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am the son of Ella, father; we have been sent on pressing business, +which is notified by this parchment” (presenting the formal request on +the part of the brethren of Æscendune, which was the original cause of their +journey) “but we have yet a more pressing matter to bring before you: +wicked men seek your life, my father.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am well aware of that; surely you do not dream, my son, that my eyes +are closed to a fact known throughout unhappy England.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my father, I speak of immediate danger, which God in His great +mercy enabled me to discover but last night; this very night the abbey will be +attacked, and your life or liberty in danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“This night!” said Dunstan, in surprise; “and how have you +discovered this? Do not hesitate, my son tell me all.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus adjured, Alfred repeated the whole story of his discovery of the concealed +expedition. +</p> + +<p> +“You saw the leaders closely then?” said Dunstan, when he had +finished; “describe the elder one to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“A tall dark man, like a foreign soldier, in plain but rich apparel, a +scar on the right cheek.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, my son, I know him; his name is Redwald, and he is the captain of +the king’s bodyguard. Now describe the other with whom he held +converse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father, I cannot.” +</p> + +<p> +“My son—” but Dunstan paused, for he saw that poor Alfred had +covered his face with his hands, and he at once divined the truth, with full +conviction, at the same time, of the truth and earnestness of Alfred’s +statement. +</p> + +<p> +“My son, God can dispose and turn the hearts of all men as seemeth best +to His wisdom; and I doubt not, in answer to our fervent prayers, He will turn +the heart of your poor brother. Meanwhile, we ourselves will take such +precautions as shall spare him the guilt of sacrilege. +</p> + +<p> +“Brother Osgood, summon the prior to my presence, and cause the brethren +to assemble, one and all, in the chapter house: we have need of instant +deliberation.” +</p> + +<p> +The lay brother departed, and Dunstan, whose cheerfulness did not desert him +for one moment, chatted familiarly with Father Cuthbert, or perused the +parchment the good father had just presented through Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a great and pleasing thing,” he said, “to behold how +our Order is spreading through this benighted land, and how spiritual children +arise everywhere to our holy father Benedict; surely the time is near at hand +when the wilderness shall blossom as the rose.” +</p> + +<p> +The prior, Father Guthlac, entered at this moment, and Dunstan talked apart +with him for some moments with extreme earnestness, but only the last words +which passed between them were audible. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my brother, you have the words of Scripture,” said Dunstan, +“to support your proposal: ‘When they persecute you in one city, +flee ye unto another.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet it is hard to leave a spot one has reared with such tender +care.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was One Who left more for us; and I do not think they will destroy +the place, or even attempt to destroy it: they will fill it with those +‘slow bellies, those evil beasts,’ the secular clergy, with their +wives.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fitter it should be a stye for hogs.” <a href="#EndNoteA21sym" +name="EndNoteA21anc"><sup>xxi</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, they are men after all; yet there is some reason to fear that, like +hogs, they wallow in the mire of sensuality; but their day will be but a short +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father!” +</p> + +<p> +“But a short one; it hath been foreshown me in visions of the night that +the Evil One will triumph indeed, but that his triumph will be very short; and, +alas a green tree which standeth in the pride of its youth and might must, ere +the close of that triumph, be hewn down.” +</p> + +<p> +“By our hands, father?” +</p> + +<p> +“God forbid! by the Hand of God, I speak but as it has been revealed to +me.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a well-known fact that Dunstan either was subject to marvellous +hallucinations, and was a monomaniac on that one point, while so wise in all +other matters, or that he was the object of special revelations, and was +favoured with spiritual visions, as well as temptations, which do not +ordinarily fall within the observation or experience of men. +</p> + +<p> +So Father Guthlac and the rest of the company listened with the greatest +reverence to his declaration, as to the words of an inspired oracle. +</p> + +<p> +“But let us go to our brethren; they await us,” said Dunstan, +speaking to the prior. “Brother Osgood, take these our guests to the +refectorarius, and ask him to see that they and all their company taste our +bounty at least this day; tomorrow we may have nought to offer them.” +</p> + +<p> +In the famous chapter of the whole house of Glastonbury which followed, and +which became historical, prompt resolution was taken on Dunstan’s report, +which did honour to the brotherhood, as evincing both their resignation and +their trust in God, Who they believed would, to use the touching phrase of the +Psalmist, “turn their captivity as the rivers in the south;” so +that they “who went forth weeping, bearing good seed, should come again +with joy, and bring their sheaves with them.” +</p> + +<p> +So it was at once agreed that the whole community should break up immediately; +that within the next hour all the monks should depart for the various +monasteries of the Benedictine order; and that Dunstan himself, with but two +companions, should take refuge across the sea, sailing from the nearest port on +the Somersetshire coast. +</p> + +<p> +A dozen of the brethren were to return with Father Cuthbert and Alfred to +Æscendune at once, and to bear with them all the necessary powers for the +accomplishment of the good thane’s wishes in regard to the monastery of +St. Wilfred, while Father Cuthbert was then and there admitted by Dunstan to +the order of St. Benedict —the necessity of the case justifying some +departure from the customary formalities. +</p> + +<p> +All being completely ordered and arranged, the chapter broke up, and within an +hour the monks were leaving as rapidly as boys leave school when breaking-up +day comes, but not quite so joyously. They strove to attract as little +attention as possible, and, in most cases, travelled in the ordinary dress of +the country. +</p> + +<p> +Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines who were to accompany him on his +return—- so much more speedy than had been anticipated —were +already prepared to start, when, to their surprise, Alfred could not be found. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred was at that moment in the cell of Dunstan, with whom he had obtained, +not without great trouble, another brief interview. +</p> + +<p> +“God bless you, my son,” said Dunstan, “and render unto you +according to all you have done for His glory this day, and restore you your +brother safe in body and soul!” +</p> + +<p> +But it was not merely for a blessing that Alfred had sought the abbot. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” he said, “if I have happily been of service to you, +I ask but one favour in return; one brother has sought your life, let the other +remain with you as a bodyguard.” +</p> + +<p> +“But your father?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am satisfied that I am but speaking as he would have me speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you will become an exile.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gladly, if I can but serve you, father.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my child, I have no means of support for you abroad; as monks we +shall find hospitality in every Benedictine house, but you are only a +layman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, father, I but ask you to allow me to accompany you to the +coast.” +</p> + +<p> +“I grant it, my son, for I believe God inspires the wish. Be it as you +desire, but one of your serfs must accompany you; it would not be safe to +travel home alone.” +</p> + +<p> +So Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines started back to Æscendune without +Alfred, bearing Dunstan’s explanation of the matter to the half-bereaved +father whose faith, they feared, would be sorely tried, and leaving Oswy to be +his companion. +</p> + +<p> +It was now drawing near nightfall, and the abbey was almost deserted; all the +pilgrims had left with the monks, although many of them would willingly have +put their trust in the arm of flesh and remained to fight for Dunstan against +his temporal foes, even as he—so they piously believed—routed their +spiritual enemies. In that vast abbey there were now but six +persons—Dunstan, Guthlac, Alfred, the lay brother Osgood, Oswy, and a +guide who knew all the bypaths of the country. +</p> + +<p> +Desolate and solitary indeed seemed the huge pile of untenanted buildings as +the evening breeze swept through them. The last straggler had gone; Dunstan was +still in his cell arranging or destroying certain papers, the guide and lay +brothers held six strong and serviceable horses in the courtyard below, near +the open gate, impatient to start, and blaming secretly the dilatoriness of +their great chieftain. They watched the sun as he sank lower and lower in the +western sky, and thought of the woods and forests they must traverse, +frequented by wolves, and sometimes by outlaws whom they dreaded far more. +Still Dunstan did not appear. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred and Guthlac, on a watchtower above, gazed on the plain stretched before +them. Mile after mile it extended towards that forest where the enemy was now +known to lurk, and they watched each road, nay, each copse and field, with +jealous eye, lest it should conceal an enemy. Ofttimes the shadow of some +passing cloud, as it swept over moor or mere, was taken for an armed host; +ofttimes the wind, as it sighed amongst the trees and blew the dried leaves +hither and thither, seemed to carry the warning “An enemy is near.” +</p> + +<p> +At length danger seemed to show itself plainly: just as the sun set, a dark +shadow moved from a distant angle of the forest on the plain beneath, and the +words “The enemy!” escaped simultaneously from Alfred and Guthlac +as the setting sun seemed reflected upon spear and sword, flashing in a hundred +points as they caught the reflection of the departing luminary. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred, at the prior’s desire, hurried to the chamber of Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” he said, “the enemy are near. They have left the +forest.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is four miles in distance: there will be time for me to finish this +letter to my brother of Abingdon.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, father, their horses may be fleeter than ours.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are under God’s protection: I am sure we shall not be +overtaken: be at peace, my son.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Alfred felt as if his faith were very sorely tried indeed, but he strove +to acquiesce. +</p> + +<p> +It was now quite dark, and the ears of the would-be fugitives were strained to +catch the sounds which should warn them of approaching danger. +</p> + +<p> +At length they fancied they heard sounds arise from the plain before them: +suppressed noises, such as must unavoidably be made by a force on its passage; +and Alfred again sought the cell of Dunstan, yet dared not enter, urgent though +the emergency seemed. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment he was startled by a demoniacal burst of laughter, which seemed +to fill the corridor in which he waited with exultant joy. +</p> + +<p> +What could it be? he felt as if he had never heard such laughter +before—so terrible, yet so boisterous. +</p> + +<p> +A moment of dread silence, and then it began again, and filled each corridor +and chamber. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Dunstan came forth, and saw the pale face of Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“It is only the devil,” he said “we are not ignorant of his +devices. +</p> + +<p> +“O Satan! thou that wert once an angel in heaven, art thou reduced to +bray like a jackass?” <a href="#EndNoteA22sym" +name="EndNoteA22anc"><sup>xxii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Again the exultant peal resounded. +</p> + +<p> +“Be at peace,” said the abbot; “thou rejoicest at my +departure; I shall soon return to defy thee and thy allies.” +</p> + +<p> +And the laughter ceased. +</p> + +<p> +“We must lose no time,” he said; “the moment is at +hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Locking each door behind him, he reached the party in the courtyard, and each +person mounted in a moment; then they passed under the great archway. Oswy had +remained behind one moment to lock the great gates, and then they all rode +forth boldly into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +They passed rapidly in a direction at right angles to that in which their +pursuers were approaching, and at the distance of a mile they halted for one +moment to ascertain the cause of a great uproar which suddenly arose. +</p> + +<p> +It was not difficult to divine its cause: it was the beating of axes and +hammers on the great outer door of the monastery. +</p> + +<p> +“It will occupy them nearly an hour,” said Dunstan, “and we +shall be far far away before they have succeeded in effecting an +entrance.” +</p> + +<p> +So they rode on rapidly into the night. Before them lay the Foss Way, the road +was good and well known to them, the moon was shining brightly, and their +spirits rose with the excitement and the exertion. Onward! Onward! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/> +AT HIS WORST.</h2> + +<p> +The unhappy Elfric had indeed fallen from his former self before he reached the +depth at which our readers have just seen him, joining with Redwald in the +unhallowed enterprise so happily frustrated, if indeed it were yet frustrated, +by his own brother. +</p> + +<p> +But when his father had returned to Æscendune alone, Elfric felt that home +ties were shattered, and that he had nothing but the royal favour to depend +upon, so he yielded to the wishes of King Edwy in all points. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately after his coronation, the reckless and ill-advised Edwy had married +Elgiva, <a href="#EndNoteB1sym" name="EndNoteB1anc"><sup>xxiii</sup></a> in +defiance of the ban of the Church, and then had abandoned himself to the +riotous society and foolish counsels of young nobles vainer than those who cost +Rehoboam so large a portion of his kingdom. Amongst these Elfric was soon +conspicuous and soon a leader. His spirit and physical courage far beyond his +years excited their admiration, and in return they taught him all the mysteries +of evil which were yet unknown to him. +</p> + +<p> +Under such influences both the king and his favourite threw off all outward +semblance even of religion, and only sought the means of enjoyment. Redwald +ministered without reserve or restraint to all their pleasures, and under his +evil influence Edwy even found occasion to rob and plunder his own grandmother, +a venerable Saxon princess, in order that he might waste the ill-gotten +substance in riotous living. +</p> + +<p> +Yet there was a refinement in his vice: he did not care for coarse sensual +indulgence to any great extent; his wickedness was that of a sensitive +cultivated intellect, of a highly-wrought nervous temperament. +Unscrupulous—careless of truth—contemptuous of religion—yet +he had all that attraction in his person which first endeared him to Elfric, +whom he really loved. Alas! his love was deadly as the breath of the upas tree +to his friend and victim. When the first measures of vengeance were taken +against Dunstan, with the concurrence of wicked but able ministers of state, +Redwald was selected as the agent who should bribe the thanes, and begin the +course of conduct which should eventually lead to the destruction of the enemy +of the king. He had only waited till the temper of the times seemed turned +against Dunstan (he judged it wrongly); and the king seemed secure against +every foe ere he planned the expedition we have introduced to our readers. +</p> + +<p> +We will now resume the thread of our narrative. +</p> + +<p> +When the band of soldiers, headed by Redwald, had gained the gates of the +monastery, they found them, as we have seen, firmly locked and barred. +</p> + +<p> +“Blow your horns; rouse up these sleepy monks to some purpose,” +said Redwald. “Why, they have not a light about the place.” +</p> + +<p> +A loud and vigorous blast of horns was blown, while the greater part of the +troop dismounted and paused impatiently for an answer from within. +</p> + +<p> +“Two or three of you step forward with your axes,” exclaimed +Redwald. +</p> + +<p> +They did so, and thundered on the gate without any success, so stoutly was it +made. +</p> + +<p> +“What can it mean?” said Redwald. “All is silent as the +grave.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; there is some one laughing at us,” said Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +A peal of merry laughter was heard within. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald was thoroughly enraged, and seizing an axe with his own hand, he set +the example of applying it to the gate, but without any result save to split a +few planks, while the iron framework, designed by Dunstan himself, who was +clever at such arts, held as firmly as ever. +</p> + +<p> +Unprovided with other means of forcing it, the besiegers had recourse to fire, +and gathering fuel with some difficulty, they piled it against the gate. +Shortly the woodwork caught, and the whole gate presently yielded to the action +of the fire; the iron bars, loosened by the destruction of the woodwork, gave +way, and the besiegers rushed into the quadrangle. Here, all was dark and +silent, not a sound to be heard or a light seen. +</p> + +<p> +“What can it mean? Have they fled? You all heard the laughter!” +</p> + +<p> +“There it is again.” +</p> + +<p> +The boisterous and untimely mirth had begun just within the abbot’s +lodgings, and the doorway at the foot was immediately attacked. It presently +yielded, and Redwald, who had obtained a good notion of the place, rushed with +his chief villains to the chamber he knew to be Dunstan’s; yet he began +to fear failure, for the absence of all the inmates was disheartening. No, not +all, for there was the loud laughter within the very chamber of the abbot. +</p> + +<p> +The door was fastened securely, and while the axes were doing their destructive +work upon it, the mocking laughter was again heard. Redwald had become so +enraged that he mentally vowed the direst vengeance upon the untimely jester, +when the door burst open and he rushed in. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he? Surely there was some one here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who could it be? We all heard the laughter.” +</p> + +<p> +But victim there was none; and searching all the place in vain, they had to +satiate their vengeance by destroying the humble furniture of the abbot. +</p> + +<p> +What to do next they knew not, and Redwald, deeply mystified, was reluctantly +forced to own his discomfiture, and to prepare to pass the night in the abbey. +Accordingly, his men dispersed in search of food and wine. Some found their way +to the buttery; it was but poorly supplied, all the provisions in the place +having been given to the poorer pilgrims by the departing monks. The cellar was +not so easily emptied, and such wine as had been stored up for future use was +at once appropriated. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald and Elfric, having shared the common meal gloomily, were seated in the +abbot’s chamber—little did Elfric dream that his brother had so +recently been in the same room—when one of the guards entered, bringing +with him a stranger. He turned out to be a neighbouring thane, one of those +bitter enemies to Dunstan whom Edwy had planted round the monastery, and he +came to give information that he had seen Dunstan with five companions escaping +by the Foss Way. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald jumped up eagerly. “How long since?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“About two hours, and ten miles off, I was returning home from a distant +farm of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you not stop them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was too weak for that; they were six to one. I heard you had been seen +coming here by a cowherd, and came to warn you. If you ride fast you may catch +the holy fox yet before he runs to earth; but you must be very quick.” +</p> + +<p> +“What pace were they riding?” +</p> + +<p> +“Slowly at that moment; it was up a hill.” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald rushed from the room, crying, “To horse, to horse!” but +found only a portion of his men awake: the others were mainly drunk and +sleeping it off on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Cursing their untimely indulgence, he got about a dozen men rapidly mounted on +the fleetest horses, taking care Elfric should be one, and dashed off in +pursuit of the fugitives. +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan and his party had ridden some four or five hours, when the moon became +overcast, and low peals of distant thunder were heard. The atmosphere was so +intensely hot, and the silence of nature so oppressive, that it was evident +some convulsion was at hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any shelter near?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only a ruined city <a href="#EndNoteB2sym" +name="EndNoteB2anc"><sup>xxiv</sup></a> in the wood on the left hand, but it is +a dangerous place to approach after nightfall. They say evil spirits lurk +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“They tell that story of every ruined place, be it city, temple, or +house; and even if it be, we have more cause to dread evil men than evil +spirits.” +</p> + +<p> +The guide hesitated no longer, and struck into a bypath, which penetrated the +depth of the woody marsh through which the Foss Way then had its course. After +a minute or two it became evident, from the footing, that they were upon the +paved work of a causeway overgrown with weeds and rank herbage; huge mounds +showed where fortifications had once existed, and shortly, broken pillars and +ruined walls appeared at irregular intervals. +</p> + +<p> +They had little time to look around them, for the storm had come rapidly up, +and the glare of the lightning was incessant, while the rain poured down in +absolute torrents. Before them rose a huge ruin covered with ivy and with the +roof partly protecting the interior. It was so large that they were able to +lead their horses within its protection and wait the cessation of the rain. +</p> + +<p> +Between the flashes the sky was intensely dark, but they were almost incessant, +and revealed the city of the dead in which they had found refuge. It was an +ancient Welsh town, and in the latter years of the deadly struggle with the +English, had been taken after a protracted resistance. Tradition had not even +preserved its name, and only stated that every living soul had perished in the +massacre when the outer walls were at length stormed and the town given to fire +and sword. The victors, as was frequently the case, had avoided the spot, +preferring to build elsewhere, and, like Silchester or Anderida, it had fallen +into desolation such as befell mighty Babylon. +</p> + +<p> +And now the ignorant rustic peopled its buildings with the imaginary forms of +doleful creatures, and shunned the fatal precincts where once family love and +social affections had flourished; where hearts, long mouldered to dust, had +beaten with tender affection, where all the little circumstances which make up +life—the trivial round, the common task—had gone on beneath the +summer’s sun or winter’s storm, till the great convulsion which +ended the existence of the whole community. +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan noticed that his whole party crowded closely together, and when the +lightning illuminated each face saw that fear had left its visible mark. +</p> + +<p> +The continuous roar of thunder, the hissing of the descending rain, the wind +which blew in angry gusts, prevented all conversation until nearly an hour had +elapsed, when the strife began to diminish. It was a sad and mournful sight to +gaze upon the remains of departed greatness when thus illuminated by the +electric flash, and easily might the fancy, deceived by the transient glimpses +of things, people the ruins with the shades of their departed inhabitants. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” said Alfred, at length, “who were they who lived +here? Do you know aught about them?” +</p> + +<p> +“The men whom our ancestors subdued—the Welsh, or British—an +unhappy race.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were they heathen?” +</p> + +<p> +“At one time, but they were converted by the missions from Rome and the +East, of which the earliest was that of St. Joseph of Arimathea to our own +Glastonbury; he may have preached to the very people who lived here, nay, in +this very basilica, which, I think, may have been converted into a +church.” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed the ruin of a basilica wherein they stood, but no trace survived +to show whether Dunstan’s conjecture was correct. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems strange that God should have permitted them to fall before the +sword of our heathen ancestors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Their own historian Gildas, who lies buried at Glastonbury, explains it. +He tells us that such was the corruption of faith and of morals towards the +close of their brief day, that had not the Saxon sword interposed; plague, +pestilence, or famine, or some similar calamity, must have done the fatal work. +God grant that we, now that in turn we have received the message of the Gospel, +may be more faithful servants, or similar ruin may, at no distant period, await +the Englishman also, as it did the Welshman.” +</p> + +<p> +He sighed deeply, and Alfred echoed the sigh in his heart; he read the +abbot’s thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you believe,” said he, after a pause, “that their spirits +ever revisit the earth?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not; many wise men have thought it possible, and that they may +haunt the places where they sinned, ever bearing their condemnation within +them, even while they clothe themselves in semblance of the mortal flesh they +once wore.” +</p> + +<p> +The whole party shuddered, and Father Guthlac said, deprecatingly: +</p> + +<p> +“My father, let us not talk of this now. We are too weak to bear it, and +the place is so awful!” +</p> + +<p> +By this time the wind had made a huge rent in the black clouds overhead, and +the moon came suddenly in sight, sailing tranquilly in the azure void above, +and casting her beams on the ruins, as she had once cast them on the beauteous +city; its basilicas, palaces, and temples yet standing. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment their guide came hastily to them. +</p> + +<p> +“We are in some danger, father. Horsemen, twelve of them, are galloping +along the Foss Way in spite of the storm.” +</p> + +<p> +Dunstan left the shelter, which was no longer needed, the rain having ceased, +and followed the guide to the summit of the huge mound which marked the fall of +some giant bastion of early days. From that position they could see the Foss +Way, now about half-a-mile distant in the bright moonlight, and Dunstan’s +eye at once caught twelve figures—horsemen—sweeping down it like +the wind, which brought the sound of their passage faintly to the ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait,” he said, “and see whether they pass the bypath; in +that case we are safe.” +</p> + +<p> +The whole party was now on the mound, their persons carefully concealed from +the view of the horsemen, while they watched their passage with intense +anxiety. The enemy reached the bypath; eleven of them passed over it, but the +twelfth reined his horse suddenly, almost upon its haunches, and pointed to the +ground. He had evidently seen the tracks of the fugitives upon the soft turf. +</p> + +<p> +The next moment they all turned their horses into the bypath. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow,” said the guide; and they all rushed eagerly down the +mound and mounted at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow me closely; I think I can save you from them; only lose not a +moment.” +</p> + +<p> +The guide led them by a wandering path amongst the ruins, where their tracks +would leave the least trace, until he passed through a gap in the external +fortifications on the opposite side. Then he rode rapidly along a descending +path in the woods, until the sound of rushing water greeted their ears, and +they arrived on the brink of a small river which was swollen by the violent +rain, and which dashed along an irregular and stony bed with fearful +impetuosity. +</p> + +<p> +There was but one mode of crossing it: a bridge constructed of planks was +thrown over, which one horseman might pass at a time. The whole party rode over +in safety, although the crazy old bridge bent terribly beneath the weight of +each rider. +</p> + +<p> +But when all were over, the guide motioned to Alfred and Oswy to remain behind +for one moment, while the monks proceeded. He threw himself from his horse, and +taking the axe which he had slung behind him, commenced hacking away at the +bridge. But although the bridge was old, yet it was tough; and although Alfred, +and Oswy who was armed with a small battle-axe, assisted with all their might, +the work seemed long. +</p> + +<p> +Before it was completed, they heard the voices of their pursuers calling to +each other amongst the ruins. They had evidently lost the track, and were +separating to find it. +</p> + +<p> +Crash went one huge plank into the raging torrent, then a second, and but one +beam remained, when a horseman emerged from the trees opposite, and by the +light of the moon Alfred recognised his brother. +</p> + +<p> +Desperate in the excitement of the chase, Elfric leapt from his horse, and +drawing his sword rushed upon the bridge. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred, who felt it tremble, cried: +</p> + +<p> +“Back, Elfric! Back if you value your life!” while at the same +moment, true to his duty, without raising his axe or any other attempt at +offence, he opposed his own body in passive resistance to Elfric’s +passage over the beam. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric knew the voice, and drew back in utter amazement. He had already stepped +from the half-severed beam, when he saw it bend, break, and roll, with Alfred, +who had advanced to the middle of the bridge, into the torrent beneath, which +swept both beam and man away with resistless force. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/> +THE RETURN OF ALFRED.</h2> + +<p> +The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn the fate of Alfred of +Æscendune, whom we left in so critical a position. +</p> + +<p> +The fall of the bridge was so sudden and unexpected, that he scarcely knew +where he was, till he found himself sucked rapidly down stream by the raging +waters, when he struck out like a man, and battled for dear life. But the only +result seemed to be that he was bruised and battered against the rocks and +stones, until, exhausted, he was on the point of succumbing to his fate, as the +current bore him into a calm deep pool, where he sank helplessly, his strength +gone. But the guide and his companion Oswy had succeeded in reaching the spot, +which was inaccessible from the other side, and plunging at once into the +waters, the latter succeeded in bringing the dying youth to land. Dunstan and +the other members of the party were soon on the spot; the lay brother was +skilled in the art of restoring suspended animation, and they soon had the +happiness of beholding Alfred return to consciousness; he raised his head, and +gazed about him like one in a dream, not able to realise his position. +</p> + +<p> +“Where am I? What have I been doing?” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“You are safe, my dear son, and in the hands of friends,” replied +Dunstan, “although you have had a narrow, narrow escape; we are secure +for the present from our foes.” +</p> + +<p> +They consulted together in low tones as to their future movements, and the +abbot inquired particularly of the guide concerning the fords and bridges. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a ford only a mile or two away, but I expect they will find +they cannot cross it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no place of refuge near? He is unable to sit his horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is a cottage close by, kept by a cowherd, who is a good and true +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then lead us to it at once,” replied Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred had by this time recognised his position, and he implored Dunstan not to +endanger his own safety for his sake; but the abbot paid no attention. They +reached the cottage just as the day was dawning, and the east was bright with +rosy light. It was such a place as the great king, after whom Alfred was named, +had found refuge in when pressed by the Danes. It was poor, but neat and clean +beyond the usual degree; and when the wants of their early visitors were known, +and Dunstan was recognised, the utmost zeal was displayed in his cause. +</p> + +<p> +All that could be done for Alfred was done at once, but he was manifestly too +shaken and bruised to be able to travel; and, giving him his fatherly blessing, +Dunstan was compelled by the guide to hurry on, leaving him in the care of +Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +They had not, however, great fear of their pursuers, for their own horses were +comparatively fresh after the rest in the ruined city, and those of their foes +would be necessarily fatigued, after the rapid ride along the Foss Way, and +their exertions to pass the stream. +</p> + +<p> +So it was not with great uneasiness, well mounted as they were, that, gaining +the road, they beheld their pursuers in the distance, who, on their part, +beholding their intended victims afar off, hastened to spur their horses on. +</p> + +<p> +It was useless: the pursued had the advantage, and after the gallop of a mile +or two, it became evident they were in no especial danger, although it must be +remembered that a false step or slip, or any accident, would have been fatal. +</p> + +<p> +“I should not mind racing them down the Foss to the Sea Town,” <a +href="#EndNoteB3sym" name="EndNoteB3anc"><sup>xxv</sup></a> said the guide; +“but if the abbot has no objection, I should prefer leaving them to +pursue the road, while we take a cross-country route, which I have often +travelled; it is a very good one.” +</p> + +<p> +“By all means,” said Dunstan, “and then we may slacken this +furious pace.” +</p> + +<p> +They were quite out of sight of their pursuers when, coming upon a track of dry +stony ground, they suddenly left the road, and crossing a wild heath, put a +copse between them and the enemy, who did not this time discover for miles the +absence of the footprints, for the soil was very dry and hard, the storm not +having passed that way, and the foe were intent upon hard riding. +</p> + +<p> +So they gained a long start, and eventually reached a hill, from which they +obtained their first view of the sea. It was eventide, and the western sun, +sinking towards the promontories beyond the distant Exe, reddened the waters +with his glowing light. Dunstan and his brethren thanked God. +</p> + +<p> +“We have come to the setting sun,” said they, “and at +eventide have seen light; let us thank Him Who hath preserved us.” +</p> + +<p> +But the guide, who knew what relentless pursuers were yet behind, would allow +them no rest. In another hour they reached a small fishing village on the +coast, where a solitary bark was kept. The owner was just about to put out for +an evening’s fishing, but at the earnest request of his visitors, backed +by much gold, he consented to take them over to the opposite coast. +</p> + +<p> +“The weather promises to be very clear and fine,” he said; +“and we may sail across without any danger.” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed a lovely night; they stepped on board, the anchor was loosed, the +sail set, and with the wind behind, they stood rapidly out to sea. They were +quite silent, each immersed in his own thoughts. At last they heard the sound +of horsemen galloping on the fast-receding shore, and looking back, they saw +twelve riders reach the beach, and pause, looking wistfully out to sea. +</p> + +<p> +“Our soul is escaped, even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler; the +snare is broken, and we are delivered,” said Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +“Our help standeth in the name of the Lord, Who hath made heaven and +earth,” replied Father Guthlac. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Alfred rapidly gained strength. Happily no bones were broken, he was +only sadly bruised. The next day he expressed his earnest wish to return home, +but his host would not permit him, saying he should have to answer to Dunstan +some day for his guest. +</p> + +<p> +The time passed monotonously enough that second day, yet not unpleasantly: +there were a thousand things to observe in the woods and marshes around, full +of animal life. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the morning, a sweet fresh morning, the cowherd drove his cattle forth +to graze, where he knew the pastures were sweetest, and Alfred would willingly +have gone, too, but they told him he must rest. So he took his breakfast of hot +milk and bread, with oat cakes baked on the hearth, and waited patiently till +the warmth of the day tempted him out, under the care of Oswy, to watch the +distant herd, to drink of the clear spring or recline under some huge spreading +beech, while the breeze made sweet melodies in his ears, and lulled him +pleasantly to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +At midday they returned to the customary dinner, which was not of such inferior +quality as one would now expect to find in such a place, contrasting strongly +with the fare on the tables of the rich: then there was far more equality in +the food of rich and poor, and Alfred had no cause to complain of the +cowherd’s table. +</p> + +<p> +Then he sauntered forth again with Oswy, and strove to amuse himself with the +book of nature; till just at eventide, as he was longing earnestly that he +could know the fate of his fugitive friends, they heard the sound of a horse at +full trot, and soon the guide appeared in sight. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred rose up eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Are they safe?” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, quite safe; they had got a mile out to sea when their pursuers got +to the beach; I saw it all, hidden in a woody hill above.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did they try to follow?” +</p> + +<p> +“They could not, there was no boat: I never saw men in such a +rage.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred felt as if a weight were removed from his heart, then he looked up in +the face of the guide. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you guide us home?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” was the reply; “the holy abbot particularly desired me +to return to his son Alfred, and to take care of him on his journey home; and +if you will have me as your guide, I will warrant you a safe journey to +Æscendune, for we are not worth following.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let us start tomorrow morning,” said Alfred, longing to be +once more in his old father’s presence, and to cheer his mother’s +heart. +</p> + +<p> +They returned together to the cowherd’s cottage, and slept peacefully +that night. Early in the morning they retook the path to the Foss Way, crossing +the stream at a ford higher up. Their horses being well rested and full of +spirit for the journey, they passed Glastonbury, still empty and desolate, in +the middle of the day, and retraced by easy stages the whole of Alfred’s +previous route from home. +</p> + +<p> +After a week’s easy travelling, by the blessing of Providence, they +reached the neighbourhood of Æscendune: it had never looked so lovely, so +home-like to Alfred as then. He felt as if every spot were full of joy, and as +he was recognised by person after person, by his favourite dogs as they bounded +forth, and finally fell into his mother’s arms at the gate of the hall, +he experienced feelings which in these days, when we are all so familiar with +the thought of travel, can seldom be realised. +</p> + +<p> +Then he had to recount his adventures that night, after supper, to an admiring +audience, who listened enraptured to his account of the holiness of Dunstan and +the cruelty of his foes. But it will easily be imagined that he made no +allusion to his rencontre with Elfric; and Oswy, instructed by his young +master, was equally silent. +</p> + +<p> +He had quite made up his mind to persevere in this course: it could do no good +to tell father or mother how grievously Elfric had fallen, and how nearly he +had been the involuntary instrument of his brother’s death. +</p> + +<p> +“God can change his heart,” said Alfred to himself, “and +bring him home like the prodigal son about whom Father Cuthbert talks so +often.” +</p> + +<p> +So he prayed earnestly every day for his brother, and many a supplication on +his behalf arose from the altar of St. Wilfred. Time will show whether they +were lost. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/> +EDWY AND ELGIVA.</h2> + +<p> +Edwy, King of England, and Elgiva, his queen, gave a great feast at their royal +palace in London, a month after the events recorded in our last chapter; and a +numerous company had assembled to do honour to their hospitality. Yet the +company was very different from that which had assembled round the same +hospitable board in the days of King Edred. First, the Churchmen were +conspicuous by their absence; and secondly, all the old grey-headed +counsellors, who had been the pride and ornament of the reigns of Edmund and +Edred, were not seen; for, after the rumour of their marriage had reached Odo, +he had pronounced the sentence of the lesser excommunication upon them, +severing them from the sacraments; and this was felt by the old counsellors of +Edred to be a most serious stigma, yet one which they could not call +undeserved: hence they deserted the court. +</p> + +<p> +In their place were the young and giddy, the headstrong sons of wiser fathers, +the spendthrifts, the young fops of the period, those who went in for a fast +life, to use a modern phrase—who spent the night, if not the day, over +the wine cup, and consumed their substance in riotous living—such were +they who gathered around Edwy the Fair and the yet fairer Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +And truly king and queen more beautiful in person had never sat upon a throne; +and it was difficult to look upon them and feel aught but admiration, save when +one knew all their history, and then pity and sorrow might supply the place of +admiration, at least with the sober minded. +</p> + +<p> +Fish, flesh, and fowl; nought was wanting. The earth the air, and the water, +all yielded their tribute; for was it not the anniversary of the +marriage—the uncanonical marriage, alas!—of the royal pair, if +marriage it had truly been? +</p> + +<p> +Eels of enormous size, fine as the Roman lamprey, pike roasted with puddings in +their bellies, tench and carp stewed; while the sea yielded its skate, its +sturgeon, and its porpoise, which the skill of the cook had so curiously +dressed with fragrant spices that it won him great renown. The very smell, said +a young gourmand, was a dinner in itself; and the wild buck supplied its +haunch, and the boar its head, while fowl of all kinds were handed round on +spits. +</p> + +<p> +The drinking was of like sumptuous character, and Rhenish wine contended with +the wines of sunny France for precedence, as they were passed round in silver +cups and gold-mounted horns; for glass was seldom, if ever, used for such +purposes then. +</p> + +<p> +The floor was strewed with the sweetest summer flowers, and exhaled an odour +balmy as the breath of eastern climes, where the breeze plays with the orange +blossoms. The tapestry was beautifully woven by foreign artists, and +represented the loves of the gods; while there was nothing in keeping with the +olden style throughout the whole apartment. +</p> + +<p> +But one seat was vacant near the king’s throne, and every now and then +Edwy seemed to cast a wistful eye upon it, as if he would fain see its ordinary +occupant there. +</p> + +<p> +The gleemen rose and sang, the harpers harped, but something was wanting; they +brought tears to the eyes of the fair queen by their plaintive songs of hapless +lovers, which had superseded alike the war songs of Athelstane and the monkish +odes of Edred. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Elfric? He promised to be back by our wedding day; why does he +delay, my Edwy?” asked Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +“It is little less than treason to the queen of youth and beauty to be +thus absent, my Elgiva, but remember he has been unwell, and Redwald told me +that for prudential reasons they delayed his return to court.” +</p> + +<p> +“And your brother Edgar—” +</p> + +<p> +“Is somewhere in Mercia: the churlish boy has declined our invitation to +honour our feast with his presence. We do not want his serious face at the +board. I am sure he would preach on the duty of fasting.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has but seldom been our visitor.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; he is afraid, perhaps, to trust his cold heart within the magic of +my Elgiva’s sunshine, lest the ice should be melted.” +</p> + +<p> +These had been asides, while all the company were listening to the gleeman; but +now Edwy threw himself heart and soul into the current conversation, and all +went merry as a marriage peal, until the ceremoniarius—for Edwy loved +formality in some things—threw open the folding doors and announced the +captain of the hus-carles, and Elfric of Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +The whole company rose to receive them, and Elfric in particular received a +warm welcome; but it was at once seen that there was a marked constraint upon +him: his eye was restless and uneasy, and he seemed like one carrying a load at +his breast. +</p> + +<p> +In truth, since that fatal night when, as he believed, he had witnessed the +death of his brother, he had striven in vain to drown care and to banish +remorse: the thought of his aged father deprived of both his sons—the one +by death, the other by desertion—would force its way unbidden to his +mind. Still, he had determined to throw aside reserve in honour of the +occasion, and he made heroic efforts to appear happy and gay. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald was at his ease, as usual in all company, and seemed to cause +prodigious laughter as he told his adventures to the younger folk at the bottom +of the board. Dark and malign as his demeanour usually was, yet he could affect +a light and airy character at times. +</p> + +<p> +“Redwald, my trusty champion,” said Edwy, “this is the first +campaign thou hast ever returned from unsuccessful. Tell us, how did Dunstan +outwit you?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the aid of the devil, my liege.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless; but we had all hoped for a different result, and that thou +wouldst either have left the traitor no eyes in his head, or no head on his +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Said I not rightly, my Elgiva?” +</p> + +<p> +The eyes of the fair enemy of the abbot flashed fire, and she exchanged some +very significant words with her mother, Ethelgiva, who occupied the next chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my fairy-given <a href="#EndNoteB4sym" +name="EndNoteB4anc"><sup>xxvi</sup></a> one, you must not be too hard on +Redwald, who doubtless did his best— +</p> + +<p> +“How was it, Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil was certainly on Dunstan’s side: he and no other could +have betrayed our coming, for betrayed it was.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long had he left when you reached the abbey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only an hour or two; but there was a sound of mocking laughter, +doubtless caused by his incantations, which kept us for some hours forcing +doors and the like.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you could discover no cause?” +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever; however, we found he had taken the Foss Way for the +coast, and followed, and nearly caught him.” +</p> + +<p> +“What prevented you?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric turned pale as if with great mental emotion, and tried to proceed in +vain. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not well,” said Elgiva, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite,” he said; and then, overcoming his feelings by a +vigorous effort, while no one save Redwald suspected the true cause, he +continued: +</p> + +<p> +“There had been a great storm, and they had broken down the only bridge +which existed for miles over a swollen river: we lost hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet, as your messengers told us, you arrived in time to see him +leave the coast.” +</p> + +<p> +“The vessel which bore him was still distinctly in sight when we stood on +the sands.” +</p> + +<p> +“But had you no means of following?” +</p> + +<p> +“None: it was a lonely fishing village with a small harbour, and his bark +was a mere fishing smack, the only one of the place.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust the sea has swallowed him,” said the king; “but +there is a rumour today that he is playing the saint in Flanders with great +pomp. Well, only let him show his face in England again, and the devil may +pinch my nose with his tongs if I leave him a head on his shoulders: he shall +be a sacrifice to your outraged dignity, my Elgiva.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yours, my Edwy.” +</p> + +<p> +Husband and wife were quite agreed on this subject: they had never forgiven +Dunstan in the least degree, and, identifying him with religion, had well-nigh +abjured it altogether. +</p> + +<p> +The ordinary dishes being now removed, the guests all partook lavishly of wine, +and, their heads already heated, yielded entirely to the excitement of the +moment. Toast after toast was drunk to the king: he was compared to Apollo for +his beauty, and Elgiva to Venus, while the old northern mythology was ransacked +also for appellations in honour of the youthful pair. +</p> + +<p> +Adjoining, in the outer hall, the higher domestics had their music and dancing, +and the king and queen came to honour the entertainment by their presence. So +the happy hours wore away, and at length the company were on the eve of +departure, for fatigue was making itself felt, when an ominous blowing of a +horn was heard at the outer gate. +</p> + +<p> +A pause, during which the company looked at each other, so strangely had the +sound struck them, and yet they knew not why, save that it was an unlikely hour +for such an occurrence. +</p> + +<p> +There was one only who knew what the message would probably be —Redwald; +and he had kept the secret purposely from the king. +</p> + +<p> +The doors opened, and an usher brought in a messenger who had only been allowed +a moment to change a dusty dress, ere he broke into the presence of royalty. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak,” said Edwy, as the messenger bowed before him, and kissed +his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord and king—” and the messenger glanced at Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +“Let him speak, Edwy, my lord. Are we not one? What you can bear, your +wife must bear also.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus adjured, the messenger spoke his news. +</p> + +<p> +“Mercia has revolted, and proclaimed Edgar king.” +</p> + +<p> +“The cause alleged?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can tell you,” said Redwald; “the banishment of the holy +fox, Dunstan, and very shame prevents my adding that—” +</p> + +<p> +“No more,” said Edwy; “I can guess the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +He wished to spare Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +He walked up and down the hall several times. His festive air had gone. +</p> + +<p> +“And on my wedding day, too,” he said. “Redwald, you knew +this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my lord, but I wished to spare my king upon his wedding day, still +I have not spared myself. The necessary steps are taken, your immediate vassals +are summoned, and my own men are ready to march; we will sweep these rebels off +the field.” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric,” said the king, “you must be my right hand in the +field: you will be ready to invade your native Mercia tomorrow. Think you your +own friends are firm?” +</p> + +<p> +“My father, although he has disowned me, would never disown his lawful +king; the duty and love he bore to your murdered father would forbid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Redwald, have you known this many hours?” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard it at the frontier town of Mercia, Reading, last night, and took +all my measures immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, can we really depend upon Wessex?” +</p> + +<p> +“I treat so indeed, my lord, else we should be in a very bad way +indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we must rest now. Elgiva, darling, this is a cold termination to +our first anniversary, but your husband’s love shall ever protect you +until he be cold in death. +</p> + +<p> +“Goodnight, Elfric, be ready for the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +“Goodnight, Redwald, trustiest warrior who ever served grateful lord. +</p> + +<p> +“Goodnight, gentlemen all.” +</p> + +<p> +And thus the royal party broke up, and thus ended the first anniversary of the +ill-starred union. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow all was haste and confusion in the royal palace. Elgiva departed +early for Winchester, which, being farther removed from the frontier, was safer +than London from any sudden excursion on the part of the Mercians, and the city +was also devoted to the royal family. The citizens of London were directed to +provide for the defence of their city, while the royal guards, attended by the +immediate vassals of the crown, prepared to march into the heart of the +rebellious district. +</p> + +<p> +It is too often supposed that the feudal system was of Norman importation, +whereas its very foundation—the act of homage, or of “becoming your +man,”—was brought by the Saxons and Angles from their German home. +The lord was the protector of the vassal, but the vassal was bound to attend +his feudal superior both in peace and war. +</p> + +<p> +So imperative was this obligation, that a vassal who abandoned his lord in the +field of battle was liable to the death of a traitor. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore Edwy soon found himself at the head of a compact body of ten thousand +men, all bound to stand by him to death. But there was one very disheartening +circumstance, which attracted notice. No volunteers joined the little army, +although a royal proclamation had promised lands from the territories of the +rebels to each successful combatant in the cause of Edwy and Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +The fear of the Church hung on all, the conviction that the law of both Church +and State had been broken by the young king; the universal belief in the +sanctity of Dunstan, and in the true patriotism of Odo whom they called +“the good;” the thoughtless misgovernment since the wiser +counsellors had dispersed—all these things weakened the hearts of the +followers of Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +There was therefore but little enthusiasm when the inhabitants saw the soldiers +of the king march out by the Watling Street, and the soldiers themselves looked +dispirited. +</p> + +<p> +It was early dawn on the second day from the feast that the departure took +place. Cynewulf, a valiant Earl of Wessex, was the real commander; nominally, +Edwy commanded in person, and Elfric rode out of London by his side. +Redwald’s rank would not have entitled him to the chief command. +</p> + +<p> +Passing through the environs of the city, they gained the open country, and +marched steadily along the causeway the Romans had so firmly laid, until they +reached Verulam or St. Alban’s, where they passed the night. It excited +great discontent amongst the inhabitants that Edwy did not visit the shrine of +the saint, the glory of their town; and his departure again took place amidst +gloomy silence. +</p> + +<p> +They were now about to cross the frontier and enter Mercia, then in many +respects an independent state; governed, it might be, by the same monarch and +Witan as Wessex, even as Scotland and England are governed by the same +sovereign and Parliament, yet retaining like them its own peculiar code of laws +in many respects. +</p> + +<p> +And now Mercia had sternly refused to be governed any longer by the +“enemy of the Church,” and chose the Etheling, Edgar, to be its +king. +</p> + +<p> +Acting with the sanction of Odo, whom he deeply revered, the young Edgar, then +only in his fifteenth year, accepted the offer, and the whole force of Mercia +was gathering to support him when Edwy crossed the border. +</p> + +<p> +It must not be supposed that either Cynewulf or Redwald expected to conquer the +Mercians with ten thousand men. No, their design was simpler: they had learned +where Edgar was residing, and that the forces around him were small. One bold +stroke might secure his person, and then Edwy might make his own terms. This +was the secret of the advice they both gave to the young king. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald had, as we shall see, deep designs of his own to serve also, but they +had been locked for years in his own breast, and no servant could seem more +trusty and faithful than he did, or act with more energy in his master’s +cause. +</p> + +<p> +The forces of Edwy, as we have related, left St. Alban’s on the second +morning, and travelled, horse and foot, very rapidly all that day. +</p> + +<p> +Crossing the Icknield Street at Dunstable, where the remains of a huge temple, +once sacred to Diana, were visible, they entered Mercia, and soon reached +Towcester, a town which had been walled round by King Athelstane; here they +found no force prepared to receive them, and the town opened its gates at once. +</p> + +<p> +They tarried here for a day, while they sent scouts and spies in all +directions, many of whom never returned. The troops were quartered freely upon +the inhabitants, who were evidently very hostile; and, in return, the soldiers +of Edwy insulted the women and bullied the men. Every hour some quarrel arose, +and generally ended in bloodshed; the citizens being commonly the victims. +</p> + +<p> +Late at night messengers arrived at the royal quarters, bringing information +that Edgar was at Alcester, the ancient Alauna, beyond the Avon, and that +Osric, the great Earl of Mercia, was with him collecting troops. +</p> + +<p> +A council was held at once, and it was decided to leave the Watling Street and +to march for the Avon by cross-country routes. They rested that night amidst +the ruins of the ancient Brinavæ, and here another council was held, to +deliberate on their future movements, and it was decided to march westward at +once, for tidings came that Edgar’s forces were rapidly increasing, and +prudence suggested prompt measures. Edwy was becoming very anxious. +</p> + +<p> +The route for the next day was then made out and, with beating heart, Elfric +learned that they purposed crossing the river not far from Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, my friend,” said Edwy, “there will be a chance for +you to visit Æscendune, and to obtain the old man’s forgiveness.” +</p> + +<p> +He said this with a slight sneer. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot go there; I would die first.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy started at the tone of deep feeling with which the words were said; he +knew nothing of the rencontre of Elfric with his brother. +</p> + +<p> +“Still I think that I must spend this coming night there, and I will try +and act the Christian for the occasion: perhaps I may do you a good turn, while +I renew my acquaintance with your people.” +</p> + +<p> +In his very heart Elfric wished that Edwy might never arrive there, yet he knew +not what to say. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the prince, observing his hesitation, “you may +go on with Cynewulf and the main body of the army, which will cross the Avon +higher up, and I will make excuse that your duties detain you. I must +go—I have special reasons, I wish at least to secure the fidelity of the +few—and Redwald will accompany me; we join the army on the morrow, +without losing any time by the move.” +</p> + +<p> +And so the matter was settled. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/> +THE ROYAL GUEST.</h2> + +<p> +It was the morning of the first of August, and the sun, dispersing the early +mists, gave promise of a bright summer day. +</p> + +<p> +The inhabitants of Æscendune, lord and vassals alike, were astir from the +early daybreak; for that day the harvest was to be commenced, and the crops +were heavier than had been known for many a year. A good harvest meant peace +and prosperity in those times, a bad harvest famine, and perhaps rebellion; for +if the home crop failed, commerce did not, as now, supply the deficiency. +</p> + +<p> +So it was with joy and gladness that the people went forth that day to reap +with their sharp sickles in their hands, while the freshness of the early morn +filled each heart insensibly with energy and life. The corn fell on the upland +before their sharp strokes, while behind each reaper the younger labourers +gathered it into sheaves. +</p> + +<p> +Old Ella stood in their midst looking on the familiar scene, while his pious +heart returned many a fervent thanksgiving to the Giver of all good. Under the +shade of some spreading beeches, which bordered the field, the domestics from +the manor house were spreading the banquet for the reapers—mead and ale, +corn puddings prepared in various modes with milk, huge joints of cold roast +beef—for the hour when toil should have sharpened the appetite of the +whole party. +</p> + +<p> +By the side of his father stood young Alfred administering with filial +affection to all his wants, as if he felt constrained to supply a double +service in his own person now that Elfric was no more, or, at least, dead to +home ties. +</p> + +<p> +Thicker and thicker fell the wheat, and they thought surely such heavy sheaves +had never fallen to their lot before. +</p> + +<p> +At last the blowing of a horn summoned all the reapers to their dinner, and +when Father Cuthbert had said grace, the whole party fell to—the thane at +the head of them; and when the desire of eating and drinking was appeased, the +labourers lay on the grass, in the cool shade, to pass away the hour of +noontide heat, before resuming their toil. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” said Alfred, “a horseman is coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“My old eyes are somewhat dim; I do not see any one approaching.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I, as yet, but I hear him; listen, he is just crossing the brook; I +can hear the splashing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some royal messenger, perhaps, from Edgar or from Edwy, my son. I fear +such may be the case; yet I wish I could be left in peace, afar from the strife +which must convulse the land, if the ill-advised brothers cannot agree to +reign—the one over Mercia, the other over Wessex.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have repeatedly said that we should be quite neutral, father.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet, my son, we offend both parties, and, I fear me, we shall be +forced to defend ourselves in the end. But God is our refuge and strength, a +very present help in trouble. And now that I am old I can lean more and more +upon Him. He will be a father to you, my Alfred, when these hoary hairs are +hidden in the grave.” +</p> + +<p> +It was seldom that the old thane expressed his devotion in this strain; it +seemed to Alfred as if there were a foreboding of coming trial in it, and he +felt as when a cloud veils the face of the sun in early spring. +</p> + +<p> +The messenger now came in sight—a tall, resolute looking man, well armed +and well mounted, and evidently bound for the hall. But when he saw the party +beneath the trees he bent his course aside, and saluting the thane with all +deference, inquired if he spoke to Ella of Æscendune. +</p> + +<p> +“I am he,” replied Ella. “I trust you are not the bearer of +other than good tidings; but will you first refresh yourself, since it is ill +talking between the full and the fasting?” +</p> + +<p> +“With gladness do I accept your bounty; for I have ridden since early +dawn, and rider and horse are both exhausted.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is corn for your horse, and food and wine for his master. +</p> + +<p> +“Uhred, take charge of the steed. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred, my son, place that best joint of beef before the stranger, and +those wheaten cakes. +</p> + +<p> +“I drink to you, fair sir.” +</p> + +<p> +The messenger seemed in no hurry to open his tale until he had eaten and drunk, +and it was with the greatest patience that the thane, who was one of +nature’s gentlemen, awaited his leisure. +</p> + +<p> +At length the messenger looked up, and pushed his wooden platter aside. +</p> + +<p> +“I have come to be the bearer of good tidings to you, noble thane. Edwy, +your king, with a small troop of horse, his royal retinue, proposes honouring +your roof with his presence, and asks bed and board of his loyal subject, Ella +of Æscendune.” +</p> + +<p> +“The king’s will is my law; and since it pleases the son of my late +beloved master, King Edmund, to visit me, he shall find no lack of hospitality. +But may I ask what sudden event has brought him into the heart of our +country?” +</p> + +<p> +“He comes to chastise rebellion. A large force of several thousand men +crosses the river a few miles higher this evening, and, not to incommode you +with numbers, King Edwy comes apart from his followers.” +</p> + +<p> +Although he foresaw grave inconvenience, and even danger, in the proposal, yet +Ella could not appear churlish and inhospitable; therefore, learning from the +messenger that the king might be expected before sunset, he returned home to +make such preparations as should suggest themselves for the entertainment of +his royal master, for so he still would have styled Edwy, deeply as he felt he +had been wronged by him. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” said Alfred, as he walked homeward by his side, +“think you Elfric will be in his train? I wish he may be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, my son! I fear I shall never see poor Elfric again. My mind always +seems to misgive me when I think of him; and I have so strong a foreboding that +he has received my last blessing, that I cannot overcome it. No, Alfred, I fear +we shall not see Elfric tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +No more was said upon the subject; they reached the hall in good time, and +startled the lady Edith by their tidings. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly all was in preparation: the best casks of wine were broached, fowls +and wild birds alike had cause to lament that their lives were shortened, +chamberlain and cook were busy, clean rushes were brought in to adorn the floor +of the hall, sweet flowers and aromatic grass for that of the royal bedchamber; +and it was not till a flourish of trumpets announced the approach of the +cavalcade that all was ready, and the maidens and men servants, arrayed in +their best holiday attire, stood grouped without the gate to receive their +king. +</p> + +<p> +At last the glitter of the departing ray upon pointed lances announced the +approach, and soon the whole party might be seen—a hundred horse +accompanying the king’s person, and one or two nobles of distinction, +including Redwald, riding by his side. +</p> + +<p> +When the train first reached the spot from which the castle was visible, a +strange thing occurred. The king’s eyes were fixed upon Redwald, and, to +the royal astonishment, the whole frame of that worthy seemed shaken by a +sudden emotion. His countenance became pale, his lips were compressed, and his +eyes seemed to dart fire. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter, my Redwald?” asked the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing, my lord!” said he, resuming his wonted aspect with +difficulty, but at last becoming calm as a lake when the wind has died away. +“Only a sudden spasm.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you are not ill?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my lord; you need not really feel anxious concerning me. +</p> + +<p> +“The hall of Æscendune appears a pleasant place for a summer +residence,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“I have been there before,” said the king. “Spent some weeks +there. Yes; I thought it a great change for the better then, after the musty +odour of sanctity which reigned in the palace of my uncle the monk, but all +things go by comparison. I might not relish a month there now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet it looks like a place formidable for its kind, and it might not be +amiss to persuade the worthy old thane to receive a garrison there, so that if +the worst came to the worst we might have a place of refuge, otherwise the +Mercians would soon have possession of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ella is one of themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the rebel Edgar may not forgive him for entertaining us!” +</p> + +<p> +“He can hardly help himself. Still, the smoke of those fires, which, I +trust, betokens good cheer; and the peaceful aspect of that party coming out to +meet us, in the midst of whom I recognise old Ella and his son Alfred, +Elwy’s brother, does not look much like compulsion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Making the best of a bad bargain, perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“I prefer to think otherwise.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the two parties met, and Edwy at once dismounted from his +courser with that bewitching and kingly grace which became “Edwy the +Fair.” He advanced gracefully to the old thane, and, presenting the +customary mark of homage, embraced him as a son might embrace a +father—“For,” said he, “Elfric has taught me to revere +you as a father even if Æscendune had not taught me before then. I robbed you +of your son, now I offer you two sons, Elfric and myself.” +</p> + +<p> +The tears stood in the old man’s eyes at this reception, and the mention +of his dear prodigal son. +</p> + +<p> +“He is well, I hope?” said he, striving to speak with such +sternness and dignity as sell-respect taught in opposition to natural feeling. +</p> + +<p> +“Well and happy; and I trust you will see him in a day or two, when we +shall have chastised our rebels; justice, mingled with mercy, must first have +its day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he now?” +</p> + +<p> +“With the main body of the army; in fact, he is my right hand. It is my +fault, not his, that he is not here now; but we could not both leave, and he +preferred that I should come and proffer my filial duty first, and perhaps that +I should assure you of his love and duty, however appearances may have seemed +against him.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the eye of Edwy caught Alfred. It must be remembered that Elfric had kept +the secret of his brother’s supposed death, even from the king. +</p> + +<p> +“And of Alfred, too, I have ever been reminded by his brother; your name +has seldom been long absent from our conversation.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred reddened. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust now,” he continued, “that I may profitably renew an +acquaintance suspended for three years. I am but young, only in my eighteenth +year, and I have no father; let me find one in the wisest of the +Mercians.” +</p> + +<p> +So bewitching was the grace of the fair speaker that he seemed to carry all +before him. Ella began to think he must have misjudged the king. Alfred alone, +who knew much more of the relations between the king and the Church than his +father, still suspended his belief in these most gracious words. +</p> + +<p> +Leaning upon the still powerful arm of Ella, his young agile form contrasting +strongly with the powerful build of the old thane —powerful even in +decay—they came in front of the hall, where the serfs and vassals all +received them with joyful acclamations, and amidst the general homage the king +entered the hall. +</p> + +<p> +There he reverentially saluted the lady Edith. +</p> + +<p> +“The mother of my friend, my brother, Elfric, is my mother also,” +said he. +</p> + +<p> +Then he was conducted to his chamber, where the bath was provided for him, and +unguents for anointing himself, after which, accepting the loan of a change of +clothing more suitable than his travelling apparel, he received the visit of +Ella, who came to conduct him to the banquet. +</p> + +<p> +All this while his followers had been received according to their several +degrees; and a board was spread, of necessity, in a barn, for the due feasting +of the soldiers of Edwy and the vassals of Æscendune; while the officers and +the chief tenants of the family met at the royal table in the great hall once +before introduced to our readers. +</p> + +<p> +It boots not to repeat an oft-told tale, to describe the banquet in all its +prodigal luxury, to tell how light the casks in the cellars of Æscendune +seemed afterwards, how empty the larder; suffice it to say that in due course +the banquet was ended, the toasts were drunk, and, with an occasional interlude +in the gleeman’s song and the harper’s wild music, the conversation +was at its height. Wine and wassail unloosed men’s tongues. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald sat near the king, who had introduced him to Ella as a dear friend both +to him and his son—“a very Mentor,” he said, “who, +since the unhappy quarrel into which my counsellors forced me —yes, +forced me—with Dunstan, has done more to keep Elfric and me straight in +our morals than at one time I should have thought possible for any man to do. +</p> + +<p> +“Redwald, you need not blush; it is true, and your king is proud to own +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald was not exactly blushing; he had spent the interval before the banquet +in looking eagerly and wistfully all round the house, and now his countenance +had a cold composure, which made it seem as if he had never known emotion; +still he answered fittingly to the king’s humour: +</p> + +<p> +“Alack, my lord, such credit is due only to the blessed saints, +especially St. Wilfred, whom you first learned to love at Æscendune, as you +have often told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Edwy; “you remember, Ella, how I used to steal +away even from the chase, and visit his chapel at the priory which your worthy +father founded. Truly, I mused upon the saint so much that I marvel he appeared +not to me; I think he did once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” exclaimed his auditors. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I had been musing upon my condition as a poor orphan boy, deprived +of my brave father—he was your friend, Ella!—when methought a +figure in the dress of a very ancient bishop, stood beside me, yet immaterial +as the breeze of evening. ‘Thy prayer is heard’ said he to me; +‘thou hast brought many gifts to St. Wilfred; he shall send thee one, +even a friend.’ It was fulfilled in Elfric.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly, it was marvellous,” said Father Cuthbert, who listened with +open mouth. “I doubt not it was our sainted patron.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred said nothing; his recollections of Edwy’s days at Æscendune did +not embrace many hours in the chapel of St. Wilfred. +</p> + +<p> +The great wonderment of Ella may be conceived: he had always mourned over Edwy +as a headstrong youth, dead to religion, and now he was called upon to +contemplate him in so different a light. The reader may wonder at his +credulity, but if he had listened to the sweet voice of the beautiful king, had +gazed into that innocent-looking face—those eyes which always seemed to +meet the gaze, and never lowered themselves or betrayed their owner—he +would, perhaps, have been deceived too; yet Edwy was overdoing it, and a look +from Redwald warned him of the fact. He took the other line. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” he said, “I have been very very unworthy of St. +Wilfred’s fond interest in me, and may have done very rash things; but +some day the saint may rejoice in me again, and then he shall not find in me a +rebellious son.” +</p> + +<p> +Further than this he was not disposed to go, for in truth he felt himself +sickened by his very success in deceit, although half disposed to be proud of +it at the same time. But Redwald had taken up the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“These halls of yours seem old, venerable thane; has your family long +dwelt under this hospitable roof?” +</p> + +<p> +“My remote ancestor fought by the side of Cynric in the victories which +led to the foundation of Mercia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! many a sad yet glorious tale and legend for the gleeman’s +harp, doubtless, adorns your annals.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not many; we have our traditions.” +</p> + +<p> +“For instance, is there one connected with the foundation of the priory +hard by?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is of recent date, my father built it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Strange, for generally these old places are reared up by repentant +sinners, mourning over the sins they have committed, or the day of grace they +have cast away; is there no tale attached to your foundation?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! there is; but it is one whose stain is all too recent, one we +cannot recount, or suffer gleeman’s harp to set to music, lest we harrow +the yet bleeding wound.” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald could not ask more; the answer was too plain and distinct, and so he +was forced to repress his curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation then became desultory and, finally, when the gleemen began the +well known <i>piece de resistance</i>, the battle of Brunanburgh, Edwy yawned +and Redwald looked sleepy, while the old thane actually slept in his huge +armchair, and was awakened only by the cessation of the music and singing. +</p> + +<p> +Even in the presence of royalty itself Ella did not suffer the company to +disperse before the chaplain had said the customary compline service, after +which the guard was doubled at the door, and soon the whole household was +buried in sweet and peaceful sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, although they knew it not, they nourished the deadliest foe of their race +in the bosom of the family. There was one at least who could not sleep that +night who now paced his narrow chamber, now looked forth at the meadows, woods, +and hills, sleeping in the summer twilight; now, unchecked, burst into the +wildest excitement, and paced his chamber as a wild beast might pace the floor +of his cage; now calmed down into a sarcastic smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” he said in soliloquy, “and here I am at last; here in +the halls which should have been his and mine, and shall be mine yet; here! and +they know it not; here! and the reward of years of patient endurance is at +hand; here! yes, here, in the halls of Æscendune—dreamed of, sighed +after, prayed for at the shrine of such gods as promise vengeance; here, by +Woden and Thor; here by Satan’s help, if there be a Satan!—here! +here! here!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/> +NAKED THOUGH LOCKED IN STEEL.</h2> + +<p> +Early in the morning the whole household was astir, and the breakfast alone +preceded the preparations for the departure of Edwy and his retinue. Redwald +did not appear, and they became uneasy at his prolonged absence, until, sending +to his room, they found him suffering from sudden, but severe illness; which, +as the leech shortly decided, would absolutely prevent his travelling that day. +</p> + +<p> +It was evident that Edwy was annoyed by this, but it was not until after a long +conference with Redwald that he took Ella aside, and pointing out to him the +exposed position of the hall, besought his permission to leave a garrison of +fifty men under the command of this trusty officer, which would ensure their +safety, in case of any sudden attack on the part of Edgar’s troops. +</p> + +<p> +“I can hardly feel that I need such protection, my royal master,” +replied Ella; “I dwell among my own people, and am perhaps safer when +quite unprotected.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case, may I press my own poor claims?” replied the king. +“In case of the worst, I should have Æscendune to fall back upon, a +retreat secured by chosen men behind me, where one might halt and turn to bay; +again, Redwald’s sudden illness necessitates my leaving him to your +hospitality.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus pressed on every side, Ella felt he could but yield to a request which the +speaker had not only the power but the right, as his feudal superior, to +enforce; for Ella was not prepared to throw off his allegiance, as most of his +neighbours had done, and to make common cause with Edgar. Again, the +conversation of the previous night had given him more confidence in Edwy, and +more hope of seeing Elfric again, like the returning prodigal, than he had +previously had. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy saw this, and continued: +</p> + +<p> +“And it is but a few days hence, ere I propose to return with +Elfric—whom I could indeed put in command of such forces as are necessary +to secure you against our mutual foes, when I return southward. Redwald and his +troops will hold the place in trust for Elfric, till he arrives.” +</p> + +<p> +The last lingering feeling of reluctance was now forcibly banished, and Ella +consented to receive Redwald as his guest, with a picked troop of fifty men. +</p> + +<p> +“They shall be the best behaved warriors you have ever seen, my own +hus-carles—men who go to mass every morning, and shrift every +week,” added the deceitful prince; “at least,” he added, as +he saw the look of incredulity Ella could not suppress, “some of them do, +I can’t say how many.” +</p> + +<p> +In the course of an hour from this conversation, the royal party took its +departure, reduced to half its numbers. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy left amidst the regret of all, so amiable had been his manners, so winning +his ways. +</p> + +<p> +“I take a son’s liberty,” said he, as he saluted the +venerable cheek of the lady Edith; “but I will bring your other son back +with me in a few days.” +</p> + +<p> +The road leading over the hill and through the forest had swallowed up the +retreating force, when Ella personally superintended the distribution of +quarters to the guard of Redwald, many of whom afterwards volunteered to follow +him to the harvest field, and displayed uncommon alacrity in carrying the wheat +safely to its granaries, saying the rebels should never have the reaping +thereof. +</p> + +<p> +There was, however, a kind of gloom over the whole party through that day. The +thought that deadly strife impended close at hand weighed upon the spirits of +Ella, but they brightened again at the renewed hope of meeting his prodigal, +and he now hoped repentant, son in peace. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, very different scenes were on the point of being enacted only twice +ten miles from the spot. +</p> + +<p> +The main body of the army left its quarters on the right bank of the Avon, at +the same hour in which Edwy left Æscendune to join them on their march and +they proceeded in safety all through the morning. At midday they lay down to +feed and to rest, and while thus resigning themselves to repose, with the +guards posted carefully around, the sound of cavalry was heard in the distance, +and shortly the royal party appeared. Elfric was alert to receive them, but +could not conceal his surprise when he saw their diminished numbers, and +perceived the absence of Redwald. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy saw his look of embarrassment, and hastened to reply to the question it +conveyed. +</p> + +<p> +“They are left at Æscendune, fifty under the command of Redwald, to +fortify the house until we return. You must go home this time, and you need not +fear, for I have been a very saint at Æscendune, and they are expecting +Dunstan will speedily return and canonise me. Elfric, I have used my sanctity +for your advantage, since I have represented you as sharing it at least in some +degree.” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear me, my father is too wise to be so easily deceived.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing of the kind; he really seemed to believe in it; at all events, I +have promised you shall return with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did they really seem to wish to see me?” +</p> + +<p> +“They did really, especially your brother Alfred.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric started as if an arrow had struck him. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred. Alfred!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, why not Alfred?” +</p> + +<p> +“And you saw him alive and well?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure, why not? Did you think he was dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric became confused, and muttered some incoherent answer, but he rejoiced in +his very heart; he felt as if a mountain were removed from him, and a sweet +longing for home, such as he had not felt since a certain Good Friday, sprang +up in his mind, so strongly that he would have gone then and there, had +circumstances permitted. +</p> + +<p> +Alas, poor boy! his wish was not thus easily to be gratified: he had sinned +very deeply—his penance had yet to be accomplished; well has the poet +written: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“<i>Facilis descensus Averno . . . . Sed retrograre gradum, superasque +evadere ad auras, Hoc opus—hic labor est.</i>” <a +href="#EndNoteB5sym" name="EndNoteB5anc">xxvii</a> +</p> + +<p> +The midday halt concluded, the troops resumed their march for Alcester, where +they hoped to arrive about nightfall, and to surprise Edgar and his few +followers. All that afternoon they proceeded through a dense woodland country; +and the evening was setting in upon them, when suddenly the scouts in front +came galloping back, and gave the startling information that entrenchments were +thrown up across their path, and that a large force was evidently entrenched +behind. +</p> + +<p> +At first Edwy could scarcely believe the report; but Cynewulf, the experienced +commander upon whom, as we have said, the real command of the force devolved, +rode forward, and soon returned, having previously ordered a general halt, and +that entrenchments should be thrown up for their own protection during the +night. +</p> + +<p> +“Ealdorman,” said Edwy, impatiently, “why throw up +entrenchments? can we not carry theirs by storm? we are all ready, are we not, +for a valiant charge?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, my lord, we are but ill prepared,” was the reply, “for +such desperate measures. I am not certain they do not outnumber us; even so, we +probably excel them in discipline and skill, and have every chance of victory +tomorrow, which we should lose by fighting in the dark.” +</p> + +<p> +So Edwy, who did not lack personal courage, and would gladly have ended the +short raid then and there, was forced to be governed by wiser heads, and +accordingly the bivouacs were made, the fires lighted, and the royal tent +pitched upon the slope of a gentle valley, which descended to a brook in the +bottom, where the ground rose similarly on the other side, and was crowned by +the hostile entrenchment, behind which rose the smoke of the enemy’s +fires. The heads of numerous soldiers, seen over the mound, showed how well +they were prepared. +</p> + +<p> +The entrenchment was dug, the mound thrown up, the sentinels posted, and all in +so short a space of time that to the uninitiated in the art of war, it would +have seemed little short of miraculous; but the discipline of the Danes, who +owed their success generally to the skill with which they fortified their +camps, had been partially inherited by their adversaries, and the hus-carles +were not even all English: there were many Danes amongst them. +</p> + +<p> +The suppers were soon cooked and eaten, the wine circulated freely, and +patriotic songs began to be heard: but there was one who seemed to have no +heart for them—Elfric. At the huge fire, which blazed near the royal +tent, Edwy sat as master of the feast, and he was in a state of boisterous +merriment. But all Elfric’s efforts could not hide the depression of his +spirits, and Edwy, who loved him sincerely—for the reader has seen that +he was quite capable of love—tried to rouse him from it, anxious that no +one should suspect the courage of his favourite. +</p> + +<p> +Once or twice Elfric seemed to make great efforts to overcome this feeling of +depression, and partially succeeded in veiling it from all but the observant +young king. +</p> + +<p> +At last the feast was over. +</p> + +<p> +“My friends,” said the king, “we must be stirring early in +the morning, so we will now disperse for the night.” +</p> + +<p> +They drank a parting cup, then separated, while the king took Elfric’s +arm and led him aside. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric,” said he, “did I not know my friend and most +faithful follower, I should suspect that he feared the morrow’s +conflict.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot help it,” said Elfric; “perhaps I do fear it, yet, +had I but my father’s forgiveness, could I but see him once more, I could +laugh at the danger. It is not pain or death I fear, but I long to be where you +have been, I would I had gone with you now.” +</p> + +<p> +“So do I.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now I have my forebodings that I shall never hear my father’s +forgiveness; and, Edwy, if I die without it, I believe my spirit cannot rest; I +shall haunt the spot till the day of doom.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is all moonshine, Elfric. You have not been such a bad fellow after +all; if you go wrong, what will happen to the greater part of those amongst us +who may die tomorrow? When you once get into the fight, and your blood gets +warm, you will be all right; it is only the first battle that gives one all +these fancies.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; it is not that. I am of a race of warriors, and I do not suppose one +of that race ever felt like this in his first battle. I have often looked +forward to mine with joy, but now my mind is full of gloomy forebodings: I feel +as if some terrible danger, not that of the fight, were hanging over me and +mine, and as if I should never meet those I did love once, either in this world +or the next.” +</p> + +<p> +“The next! all we know about that comes from the priestly pratings. I +think, of the two heavens, Valhalla,<a href="#EndNoteB6sym" +name="EndNoteB6anc"><sup>xxviii</sup></a> with its hunting or fighting by day, +its feasting by night, would suit me best. I don’t know why we should +think ourselves wiser than our ancestors; they were most likely right about the +matter, if there be another world at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot disbelieve, if you can,” replied poor Elfric, “I +have tried to, but I can’t. Well, I daresay I shall know all about it by +this time tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pshaw! let tomorrow take care of itself; ’tis our first fight, +Elfric, and we will have no cowardly forebodings; we shall live to laugh at +them all. What shall we do with Edgar, if we get him tomorrow? I suppose one +must not shed a brother’s blood, even if he be a rebel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not; no, no.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it will be shed for me, and a lucky thrust with sword or lance +may end all our trouble, and leave me sole king; but won’t the holy fox +Dunstan grieve if his pet, his favourite, gets hurt? Come, cheer up, Elfric, my +boy; dismiss dull care, and be yourself again!” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric tried very hard to do so, and again partly succeeded. They had extended +their walk all round the limits of the camp. It was a beautiful starlit night: +there was a new moon, which was just going down, and an uncertain light hung +about the field which was to be the scene of the conflict. It was one of those +bright nights when the very aspect of nature suggests thoughts of the Eternal +and the Infinite; when the most untutored being, gazing up into the deep blue +void, finds his mind struggle vainly to grasp the hidden secrets those depths +conceal; when the soul seems to claim her birthright, and dreams of an +existence boundless, illimitable, as the starry wastes around. Such were, +perhaps, the ideas which animated the philosophers of the old heathen world +when they placed their departed heroes amongst the constellations; such, +perhaps, the thoughts which led the dying apostate Julian to bid his followers +weep no more for a prince about to be numbered with the stars. +</p> + +<p> +Thoughts of peace would those radiant orbs have spoken, under any other +circumstances, to the ardent youth as he gazed upon them; but now they +oppressed him with the consciousness that he was at enmity with the mighty +Unknown, that he was in danger, such danger as he could not comprehend; not +that which comes from the lance point or the sword blade, but danger which +fills the soul with the consciousness of its existence, yet is impalpable, not +having revealed itself, only its presence. +</p> + +<p> +“Goodnight, Elfric,” said Edwy, as they reached the camp on their +return; “goodnight. I hope you will be in better spirits in the +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy retired within the folds which concealed the entrance to his own tent. +Close by was the tent appointed for Elfric, who acted as his page; and the +latter entered also, and sat down on a camp stool. +</p> + +<p> +His bed did not seem to invite him; he sat on the seat, his face buried in his +hands; then he suddenly rose, threw himself on his knees, only for a moment, +rose up again: +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t, I can’t pray; if my fate be death, then come death +and welcome the worst. There will at least be nothing hidden then, nothing +behind the scenes. I will not be a coward.” +</p> + +<p> +The phrase was not yet written—“Conscience makes cowards of us +all;” yet how true the principle then as now—true before +Troy’s renown had birth, true in these days of modern civilisation. +</p> + +<p> +He could not sleep peacefully, although he laid himself down; his hands moved +in the air, as if to drive off some unseen enemy, as if the danger whose +presence was impalpable to the waking mind revealed itself in sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no” he muttered; “let the blow fall on me, on me, on me +alone!” then he rose as if he would defend some third person from the +attack of an enemy, and the word “Father” once or twice escaped his +lips; yet he was only dreaming. +</p> + +<p> +“Father!” again he cried, in the accents of warning, as if some +imminent danger menaced the loved one. +</p> + +<p> +He awoke, stared about, hardly recognising where he was. +</p> + +<p> +“What can I have been dreaming about?” he cried; “what can it +all mean? I thought I was at Æscendune;” and he strove vainly to recall +the scenes of his dream. +</p> + +<p> +The tread of the passing guard was the only sound which broke the stillness of +the camp. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot sleep,” said Elfric, and walked forth. +</p> + +<p> +The night was waning, and in the east a red glow was creeping upwards; the +stars were, however, still brilliant. Opposite, at the distance of less than a +mile, the reflection of the camp fires, now low, revealed the presence of the +enemy; before him the mist slowly arose in white thin smoke-like wreaths, from +the grass whereon many should soon sleep their last sleep, now in +unconsciousness of their fate. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder where I shall lie?” thought Elfric, as if it were certain +he would fall. +</p> + +<p> +He felt cooler now, as the hour drew near; he watched the red light creeping +upward, and saw the light clouds above catch the glow, until the birds began +their songs, the glorious orb arose to gild the coming strife, and the shrill +trumpet in the camp was answered by the distant notes in the camp of the foe, +like an echo afar off. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br/> +THE SLEEP OF PEACE.</h2> + +<p> +The first day after the departure of the king from Æscendune passed rapidly +away. The soldiers who had remained behind with Redwald were quiet and orderly +in their demeanour, and even, in obedience to secret orders, attended the +evensong at the minster church, as if moved thereto by devotion, although the +curious spectator might easily discover the unaccustomed character of their +service, by the difficulty with which they followed the prayers, and the uneasy +impatience with which they listened to a lengthened exposition of a portion of +the Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels from Father Cuthbert. +</p> + +<p> +The old thane and all his family were very anxious, it may be readily believed, +for the earliest news from the field of battle, for battle every one agreed was +impending; and, to gratify their natural curiosity. Redwald sent out quick and +alert members of his troop, to act as messengers, and bear speedy news from the +scene of action. +</p> + +<p> +The night set in clear and bright, as we have already seen; and while poor +Elfric was wandering about uneasily beneath that brilliant sky, the same stars +looked down peacefully upon his home, where all slept sweetly under the +fostering care, as they would have said, of their guardian angels. +</p> + +<p> +The morn broke brightly, and with every promise of a fine harvest day. The +labourers were speedily again in the fields; the cattle wandered under the +herdsman’s care to their distant pastures; the subdued tinkling of the +sheep bells met the ear, and the other subdued sounds which soothe the air on a +summer’s day; and so the hours fled by, and no one would have dreamed +that, not twenty miles away, man met man in the fierce and deadly struggle of +war. +</p> + +<p> +When the reapers assembled for their midday meal, they discussed the merits of +the quarrel, and nearly all those who had been brought under the eye of +“Edwy the Fair” were eager in pleading his cause, and trying to +find some extenuation of his misdeeds in the matter of the illegal marriage, +for such it was, from the mildest point of view; and scarcely a voice was +raised on the opposite side, until Ella drew near the scene of conversation, +and observed that “while God forbid they should judge the matter harshly, +yet law was law, and right was right, and a beautiful face or winsome look +could not change it.” +</p> + +<p> +Strolling near the field, seemingly absorbed in thought, walked Redwald, and +seeing the reapers, he came towards them. +</p> + +<p> +“A picture of peaceful enjoyment,” he quietly said. “How +often have I wished I could but lay down sword and lance to take more innocent +weapons in hand, and to spend my declining days ’mid scenes like +these.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said Ella. “It is generally thought that men whose +trade is war love their calling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; sometimes the fierce din of battle seems a pastime fit for the +gods, but the banquet is apt to cloy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you followed your profession for many years?” +</p> + +<p> +“Since I was a mere child; even my boyhood was passed amid the din of +arms.” +</p> + +<p> +There were very few professional soldiers in that day, and they were much +dreaded. An Englishman was always ready to take up arms when lawfully called by +his feudal superior, or when home or civil rights were in danger, but he +generally laid them down and returned to his fields with joy; hence the rustics +looked upon a man like Redwald with much undisguised curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“Think you we shall soon hear from the contending parties?” asked +Alfred, who was, as usual, in attendance upon his father. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps by nightfall; one of my men has just returned to tell me that +the king’s progress was stopped by an entrenched camp of the rebels, and +that they expected to fight at early dawn.” +</p> + +<p> +The news was unexpected, and every one felt his heart beat more quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a messenger already on the spot, and so soon as the royal forces +have gained the victory he will speed hither as fast as four legs can bring +him; we shall probably hear by eventide.” +</p> + +<p> +It is needless to say how every one panted for the decisive news. Ella and +Alfred soon returned to the castle, and Redwald took his horse, and rode out, +as he said, to meet the messenger. +</p> + +<p> +The hours seemed to pass more slowly; the sun drew near the west, the shadows +lengthened; and Ella, with the lady Edith, Alfred, Edgitha, and all the members +of the little society, could hardly bend their minds to any occupation, mental +or physical. Elfric was ever in their thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“O Ella!” said his wife, “this suspense is very hard to bear; +I long to hear about our boy.” +</p> + +<p> +The mother’s heart was bound up in him, as if there were no other life in +danger that day; Edwy or Edgar, it was little to her in comparison with her +longing for her first-born son. +</p> + +<p> +“He is in God’s Hands, dearest!” returned her husband; +“and in better Hands than ours.” +</p> + +<p> +Well might the thoughts of the lady Edith be concentrated on the crisis before +her. She had borne, with a mother’s wounded heart, the separation of +three years, and now it was a question of a few short hours whether she should +ever see him again or not. Now fancy painted him wounded, nay dying, on the +bloodstained field; now it impelled her to sally forth towards the scene, as +though her feeble strength could bear her to him. Now she sought the chapel, +and found refuge in prayer. She had found refuge many many hours of that +eventful day, but especially since Redwald had borne the news of the imminent +battle. +</p> + +<p> +At length the long suspense was ended. Redwald was seen riding at full speed +towards the castle, followed by the long-expected messenger. +</p> + +<p> +“Victory! victory!” he cried; “the rebels are defeated; the +king shall enjoy his own.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Elfric, my son! my son!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is safe: and will be here in a day or two, perhaps tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God!” and the overcharged heart found relief in +tears—happy tears of joy. +</p> + +<p> +The messenger who followed Redwald brought detailed accounts of the event. +According to his statements it appeared that the king had broken through the +hostile entrenchment, and had scattered their forces in the first attack. The +messenger particularly asserted that he had seen Elfric, and had been charged +with the fondest messages for home, where the youth hoped to be in a few days +at the latest, seeing there was no longer an enemy to fear. +</p> + +<p> +The hearts of all present were filled with thankfulness and joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my beloved Edith,” said the old thane. “Let us go +first to thank God;” and they went together to the chapel which had +witnessed so many earnest prayers that day—now, they believed, so fully +answered. +</p> + +<p> +All gloom and despondency seemed removed, and Ella went forth to walk alone in +the woods, to meditate in silence on the goodness of God. Nearly each evening +this had been his habit. The woods, he said, were God’s first temples, +and when alone he best raised his heart from nature to nature’s God. +</p> + +<p> +His thoughts were happy that evening: his first-born boy would be restored to +him, and, like the father in the Gospels, he longed to embrace the prodigal, +and to tell him that all was forgiven. But he schooled himself to patience, and +many a fervent thanksgiving did he offer as he wandered amidst the grassy +glades. +</p> + +<p> +But he was more weary than usual with the toil and anxiety of the day, and +shortly seated himself upon a mossy bank beneath an aged oak. The trees grew +thickly behind and before him, on each side of the glade, which terminated at +no great distance in the heart of the pathless forest, so that no occasional +wayfarer would be likely to pass that way. +</p> + +<p> +There he reposed, until a gentle slumber stole over him and buried all his +senses in oblivion. +</p> + +<p> +The day was nearly spent, the light clouds which still reflected the +sun’s ruddy glow were fast fading into a grey neutral tint, and darkness +was approaching. Once a timid deer passed along the glade, and started as it +beheld the sleeping form, then went on, but started yet more violently as it +passed a thicket on the opposite side. The night breeze had arisen and was +blowing freshly; but still the old man slept on, as though he slept that sleep +from which none shall awaken until the archangel’s trump. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile they grew uneasy at the hall over his prolonged absence, and at +length Alfred started to find his father, beginning to fear that the excitement +of the day had been too great for him, and that he might need assistance. He +knew the favourite glade wherein the aged thane was wont to walk, and the mossy +bank whereon he frequently reposed, so he lost no time, but bent his steps +directly for the spot. +</p> + +<p> +As he drew near, he saw his father lying on the bank beneath the oak as still +in sound sleep, and marvelled that the chilly air of the evening had not awoke +him. He was not wont to sleep thus soundly. He approached closely, but his +steps did not arouse the sleeper. He now bent over him, and put his hand on his +shoulder affectionately and lovingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Father, awake,” he said; “the night is coming on; you will +take cold.” +</p> + +<p> +But there was no answering voice, and the sleeper stirred not. Alfred became +seriously alarmed, but his alarm changed suddenly into dread certainty. The +feathered shaft of an arrow met his eye, dimly seen in the darkness, as it +stuck in the left side of the sleeping Ella. Sleeping, indeed. But the sleep +was eternal. +</p> + +<p> +Horrified at the sight, refusing to believe his eyes, the son first continued +his vain attempts to awake his sire, then fell on his knees, and wrung his +hands while he cried piteously, “O father, speak to me!” as if he +could not accept the fact that those lips would never salute him more. The +moonbeams fell on that calm face, calm as if in sleep, without a spasm of pain, +without the contraction of a line of the countenance. The weapon had pierced +through the heart; death had been instantaneous, and the sleeper had passed +from the sleep of this earth to that which is sweetly called “sleep in +the Lord,” without a struggle or a pang. +</p> + +<p> +His heart full of joy and thanksgiving, he had gone to carry his tribute of +praise to the very throne of God. +</p> + +<p> +When the first paroxysm of pain and grief was over, the necessity of summoning +some further aid, of bearing the sad news to his home, pressed itself upon the +mind of Alfred, and he took his homeward road alone, as if he hardly knew what +he was doing, but simply obeyed instinct. Arrived there, he could not tell his +mother or sister; he only sought the chamberlain and the steward, and begged +them to come forth with him, and said something had happened to his father. +They went forth. +</p> + +<p> +“We must carry something to bear him home,” he said, and they took +a framework of wood upon which they threw some bearskins. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred did not speak during the whole way, save that in answer to the anxious +inquiries of his companions he replied, “You will see!” and they +could but infer the worst from his manner, without giving him the pain of +telling the fatal truth. +</p> + +<p> +At length they reached the glade where the dead body lay. The moon was bright, +and in her light they saw the fatal truth at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, my master! alas, my dear lord! Who has done this? Who could have +done it?” was their cry. “Was there one who did not love and revere +him?” +</p> + +<p> +More demonstrative than Alfred had been were they in their lamentations, for +the deepest grief is often the most silent. +</p> + +<p> +At length they raised the body, the temple of so pure and holy a spirit, which +had now returned to the God Who gave it, reverently as men would have handled +the relics of some martyr saint, and placed it on the bier which they had +prepared. Then they began their homeward route, and ere a long time had passed +they stood before the great gate of the castle with their burden. +</p> + +<p> +It now became a necessity for Alfred to announce the sad news to his widowed +mother; and here the power of language fails us—the shock was so sudden, +so unexpected. The half of her life was so suddenly torn from the bereaved one, +that the pang was well-nigh insupportable. But God tempers the wind to the +shorn lamb, and has promised that the strength of His beloved ones shall be +even as their day. So He strengthened the sensitive frame to bear a shock which +otherwise might have slain it. +</p> + +<p> +The sounds of lamentation and woe were heard all over the castle as they slowly +bore the body to the domestic chapel, while some drew near, impelled by an +irresistible desire to gaze upon it, and then cried aloud in excess of woe. +Amongst the others, Redwald approached, and gazed fixedly upon the corpse; and +Eric the steward often declared, in later days, that he saw the wound bleed +afresh under the glance of the ruthless warrior, but perhaps this was an +afterthought. +</p> + +<p> +Father Cuthbert, who had now been elected prior of the monastic house below, on +the banks of the river, soon heard the sad news, and hastened up to tender the +sweet consolations of religion—the only solace at such a time, for it is +in seasons of suffering that we best comprehend the Cross. +</p> + +<p> +When he entered he saw the corpse in the chapel, where they had placed it +before the altar, and he could only say, “Alas, my lord! alas, my dear +friend!” until he knelt down to pray, and rose up somewhat calmed. +</p> + +<p> +Then he sought the chamber where the lady Edith hid her woe, and there he +showed her that God was love, hard though it was sometimes for the frail flesh +to see it; and he bade her look to the Divine Sufferer of Whom it is said, +“In all their afflictions He was afflicted;” and so by his gentle +ministrations he brought calm to the troubled breast, and it seemed as if one +had said to the waves of grief, “Peace, be still.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he gathered the household to prayer, and while they prayed many a +“<i>Requiescat</i>” for the faithful soul, as they said the dirge +commending to the Fathers Hands a sheep of His fold, so they also prayed for +strength to see the love which was hidden behind all this sad, sad visitation, +and to know the meaning of the words “Though He slay me, yet will I trust +in Him.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he bade them rest—those, at least, who were able to do +so—while he watched by the body, as was then the custom, all through the +deep night. +</p> + +<p> +And so the stars which had looked down from heaven so peacefully upon the house +of Æscendune the night before, of which we wrote, now looked down as coldly +bright as if no change had occurred, shining alike upon weal or woe, upon crime +or holy deed of saint. Yet as the kneeling friar saw them through the chapel +window, he thought they were but the golden lights which lay about the confines +of that happy region where the faithful live in unspeakable felicity for ever +with their Lord, and he found consolation in the thought of the Eternal and the +Infinite. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/> +THE BATTLE.</h2> + +<p> +The early morn, as we have already seen, broke upon the adverse hosts of Edwy +and Edgar as the trumpet sounded to arouse them from their slumbers, in many +instances from the last slumber they should ever enjoy. +</p> + +<p> +Every soldier was on his legs in a moment, and, in the first place, +preparations were made for breakfast: for it was a recognised fact amongst our +ancestors that if you wanted a man to fight or do anything else well, you must +feed him well first. So the care of the body was never neglected, however +pressing the danger. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, Edwy called Elfric to sit by his side at the substantial meal +which commenced the day, and saw, with much pleasure, that the cloud had partly +passed from his friend’s brow for the hope of immediate action, of the +excitement of battle, had done much to drive lowness and depression from the +young warrior. So he strove to chat and laugh with the loudest, and when the +moment came to marshal the host, and to put them in array, his spirits were as +high as in old times. +</p> + +<p> +The cavalry, which was their strongest arm, was under the command of Edwy +himself, although a sturdy warrior, who had fought in many a battle, rode on +his right hand to supply his lack of experience. +</p> + +<p> +The main body of the infantry was under the command of Earl Cynewulf, while the +reserve was under the command of Redwald’s immediate subordinate, and +consisted almost exclusively of the household guard. +</p> + +<p> +The plan of attack, for it was quite decided that they should take the +initiative, was simple, and in accordance with the ordinary tactics of the +times. The heavy-armed foot were bidden first to advance upon the entrenchments +which crowned the opposite hill, and to break the infantry of the enemy, which +was drawn up before them in formidable array; this done, the horse were +immediately to avail themselves of the opening thus made, and the entrenchments +to be assaulted by both cavalry and infantry. +</p> + +<p> +Armed with huge axes, clad in mail, and bearing large shields, the foot +advanced to the attack. They were a gallant company; and as the sun shone upon +their glittering armour, or was reflected back from the bright steel of their +axes, they might well inspire faint hearts with terror; but faint hearts were +not amongst those opposed to them. The chosen men of the northwest, some of +half-British blood, crowned the opposite hill, drawn up in front of their +entrenchments, as if they scorned any other defence than that supplied by their +living valour. They had borrowed their tactics from the Danes: deep and strong +on all sides, they seemed to oppose an impenetrable wall to the foe; they had +their shields to oppose to darts or arrows, their axes for the footmen, their +spears to form a hedge of steel no horse could surmount. +</p> + +<p> +Even should they yield to the pressure, still all would not be lost; their +retreat was secured into the entrenchments, and there they might well hope to +detain the enemy until the whole population should rise against the men of +Wessex and their leader, and his cause become hopeless. +</p> + +<p> +Steadily up the hill came the brave troops of Edwy, and from within their +ranks, as they ascended the slope, a shower of arrows was discharged by the +archers who accompanied them, under their protection; but no return was yet +made by the foe, until they were close at hand, when a loud war cry burst from +the hostile ranks, and a perfect shower of darts and arrows rained upon the +invaders. +</p> + +<p> +Still they persevered, although they left a living, struggling line on the +bloody grass behind them—persevered, like men longing for the close +hand-to-hand encounter, longing to grasp their foes in deadly grip. The shock +arrived; and axe and sword were busy in reaping the harvest of death. So great +was the physical strength of the combatants that arms and legs were mown off by +a stroke, and men were cloven in two, from the crown downwards, by the sweeping +blows of the deadly steel. +</p> + +<p> +It was a fearful struggle, but it was a short one; the line was unshaken in its +strength; in vain Edwy’s archers behind shot their arrows so as to curve +over the heads of their brethren and fall amongst the foe; the men of Wessex +recoiled and gave way. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy seized what he thought the auspicious moment when the ranks of the foe, +although unbroken, were yet weary and breathless, and ordered his cavalry to +charge. The Mercians beheld the coming storm at a distance; down on their knees +went the first line, their spears resting on the ground; behind them the second +bent over to strike with their axes; while a third rank, the archers, drew +their bows, and prepared to welcome the rushing enemy with a discharge of +deadly arrows. +</p> + +<p> +Every heart beat quickly as the fatal moment came near; onward, with a sound +like thunder, galloped the horse of Edwy. He himself rode at their head, clad +in light armour, and by his side Elfric. All trace of fear was gone now in the +mad excitement of the charge; before them they saw the wail of spear points; +nearer and nearer their coursers bounded, until they seemed to fly. Every rider +leant forward, that his sword might smite as far as possible; and, daring the +points, trusting perhaps to the breastplates of their horses and their own +ready blades, they rushed madly upon the foe. +</p> + +<p> +In cold blood no one could, perhaps, have ridden fearlessly against such an +obstacle; but in the excitement of the moment the warriors of Edwy seemed +capable of charging any imaginable barrier: and it became almost a pure +calculation, not of the respective bravery of the troops, for none were cowards +on either side, but of mere physical laws of force and resistance. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric scarcely looked where he was going. He saw a shining lance point, about +to impale him, he diverted it by his sword blade, as he was hurried into the +midst of axes, swords, lances, and beheld the warrior opposite to him in the +second rank raise his axe to inflict a fearful blow, which would have severed +his horse’s neck, had not an arrow transfixed the foe. +</p> + +<p> +The wedge seemed partly broken, and the king had begun to exult in the +anticipation of speedy victory, when from behind each end of the entrenchment +rushed two bodies of hostile cavalry; they fell upon Edwy’s forces in the +rear, and in a few moments all was confusion. +</p> + +<p> +The warriors of Edgar rallied, drove the horse out of their lines, advanced +slowly, and the horsemen of the rival brothers, mingled together in deadly +strife, in personal combat, where each man seemed to have sought and found his +individual foe. +</p> + +<p> +They moved slowly down the bill towards the brook, man after man falling and +dotting the green sward of the hill with struggling, writhing bodies. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Cynewulf was attempting to rally the flying foot, which had been cut +almost in two by the charge of the Mercian cavalry: he succeeded, with great +difficulty, in doing so at the brook which ran along the bottom of the valley, +and, with the stream in their front, they prepared to afford a refuge to their +own, and to resist the hostile horse. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy saw the opportunity, and, raising himself in his stirrups, called upon his +friends to follow him: he leapt the brook, and galloped round behind the foot, +where nearly all the unwounded horsemen followed him. He had fought well, had +slain more than one foe with his own royal hand, as became a descendant of +Cerdic, and now he but retired to organise another and stouter resistance to +the daring foe. +</p> + +<p> +But he was forced to admit now that Cynewulf was right in his conjecture, and +that they were utterly outnumbered, for the foe poured forth from their +entrenchment and advanced in good order down the slope; while the Mercian +cavalry, forming in two detachments to the left and right, crossed the brook +and charged along its banks upon the flanks of the Wessex infantry, at the same +moment. +</p> + +<p> +The warrior upon whose advice Edwy had been told to depend had fallen: he was +left to his own resources. Alas! he forgot he was a commander, and, waving his +plumed cap as a signal for his brother knights to follow, charged upon the +horsemen who were advancing up stream at like speed, forgetting that a similar +body was advancing in the opposite direction, and that as all his force were +following his lead, the opposite flank of the foot was unprotected. +</p> + +<p> +In a single minute they were all engaged in the fiercest melee which +imagination can well paint, fighting as furiously as men of the same blood only +seem to fight when once the claims of kindred are cast aside. Swords ascended +and descended with deadly violence; horses raised themselves up on their hind +legs, and, catching the deadly enthusiasm, seemed to engage their fellows; +riders fell, sternly repressing the groan which pain would extort, while their +steeds, less self controlled, uttered, when wounded, those ear-piercing cries +only heard from the animals in deadly terror or pain. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of this tumult Elfric engaged a Mercian of superior size and +strength; it was his second personal encounter; in his first, he had seen his +adversary fall with a warrior’s stern joy, but now he was overmatched; +borne down by an arm twice as strong as his own, his guard was broken down, and +a deadly blow laid open his shoulder, cutting the veins in the neck of his +horse at the same fell sweep. The animal, blinded with blood, staggered, fell, +and he was down amongst the horses’ feet, confined by one leg, for his +horse rolled partly upon him in its dying struggles; while he felt the hoofs of +other chargers in close proximity to his heed. +</p> + +<p> +A loud cry, “They fly! They fly! Victory! Victory!” reached him +even then. He well knew from which party the cries must proceed, and that he +was left to the mercy of the victorious Mercians. +</p> + +<p> +It was even so; the charge of the hostile cavalry on the left flank had broken +down the ranks of the infantry on that side; the hostile foot had contrived to +cross the brook in the confusion, and all was lost. +</p> + +<p> +The reserve now came rapidly forward, but, seeing at a glance the state of +things, retired to defend the entrenched camp, so as to give the king and his +broken and routed followers time to escape, while they made good the defence +with their lives. So they retired at once into the camp, whither Edwy and his +few surviving companions galloped a moment after them. +</p> + +<p> +Edwy was unhurt; he dismounted: his fair face flushed to a fiery red with heat +and excitement, he leapt on the entrenchment and looked on the plain. He saw +those of his own followers who had not yet made good their escape, ridden down, +cut to pieces, slaughtered in the excitement of the moment without mercy; the +sight stung him, be would have sallied out to their defence, but Cynewulf, who +was yet living, met him in the gateway, and sternly seized the bridle of his +steed. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord and king,” he said; “your life is precious to +Wessex, you may not throw it away.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot see my followers slaughtered: loose my bridle, I command +you;” and he raised his sword impetuously. +</p> + +<p> +“You may cut me down, and so reward my faithful service; but, living, you +shall not pass me on your road to destruction. My lord, I am old enough to be +your father.” +</p> + +<p> +But there was one gay young noble present, who knew better than Cynewulf the +key to Edwy’s heart. He was one of the boon companions we have been +before introduced to; but he had fought, poor young fellow, gallantly all that +day, and now he could fight no longer: Edwy saw him reel and fall from his +horse. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfgar!” he said; as he strove to raise his friend and subject +from the ground—“not seriously wounded I hope!” +</p> + +<p> +“Dying, and for my king, as is my duty let a dying voice reach you, my +dear lord. Save yourself if you would save Elgiva, if you —if +you—” the words came broken and faint “—are slain, she +will be at the mercy of her deadly foes.” +</p> + +<p> +His head fell helplessly down upon his shoulder, and ere the king could make +any reply, he saw that he was indeed past hope. +</p> + +<p> +But his dying words had sunk deeply into the heart of Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Elfgar! he was right. O Elgiva! Elgiva! this is a sad day for +thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Return then to her, my lord,” said Cynewulf. “See, they are +preparing now to assault the camp; I can hold it for hours, and if you are not +here, I can make good terms with our foes; but, if you stay, you but embarrass +us: ride out, my liege.” +</p> + +<p> +“And desert my subjects?” +</p> + +<p> +“They will all acquit you: haste, my lord, haste, before they surround +the camp, for your fair queen’s sake, or you are lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my men, we must fly,” said Edwy, sullenly; and he led the +way reluctantly to the back of the camp. +</p> + +<p> +The road was partly encumbered with fugitives, but not wholly, as most of them +sought the entrenched camp. Cynewulf accompanied him to the gate, where he +stopped to give one last piece of advice. +</p> + +<p> +“Fly, my lord, for Wessex at once; lose no time; the best route will be +the Foss Way; they will not suspect that you have taken that direction. Ride +day and night; if you delay anywhere you are lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell, faithful and wise counsellor. Odin and Thor send that we may +meet again;” and Edwy with only a dozen followers rode out at full speed. +</p> + +<p> +The Mercians had not yet reached that side of the camp, which was concealed by +woods which were clear of all enemies, and he rode on rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +“What has become of Elfric, my Leofric?” he said to one of his +faithful train. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear me he is dead: I saw him fall in the last struggle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Elfric! poor Elfric! then his forebodings have come true; he will +never see his father again.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is all fortune and fate, and none can resist his doom, my +lord,” said Leofric. +</p> + +<p> +“But Elfric; yes, I loved Elfric. I would I had never left that fatal +field.” +</p> + +<p> +“Think, my lord, of Elgiva.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Elgiva—she is left to me and left all is left. Ride faster, +Leofric, I fancy I hear pursuers.” +</p> + +<p> +They had, at Cynewulf’s suggestion, taken fresh horses from the reserve, +and had little cause to fear pursuit. In an hour they reached the Foss Way and +rode along the route described in our former chapter, until, reaching the +frontiers of the territory of the old Dobuni, they left the Foss, and rode by +the Roman trackway which we have previously described, until they turned into a +road which brought them deep into Oxfordshire. Here they were in a territory +which had been a debateable land between Mercia and Wessex, where the +sympathies of the people were not strongly enlisted on either side and they +were comparatively safe. +</p> + +<p> +They passed Kirtlington; rested at Oxenford, then rode through Dorchester and +Bensington to Reading, whence they struck southward for Winchester, where Edwy +rested from his fatigue in the society of Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +So ended the ill-advised raid into Mercia. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br/> +EARTH TO EARTH, AND DUST TO DUST.</h2> + +<p> +Although Edwy and his little troop had been successful in gaining the main +road, and in escaping into Wessex, yet few of his followers had been so +fortunate, and his broken forces were seeking safety and escape in all +directions, wanderers in a hostile country. A large number found a refuge in +the entrenched camp; but it was surrounded by the foe in less than half-an-hour +after the king’s escape, and all ingress or egress was thenceforth +impossible. +</p> + +<p> +While one large body fled eastward towards the Watling Street, the soldiers who +had accompanied the king to Æscendune naturally turned their thoughts in that +direction. It was, as they had seen, capable of a long defence—well +provisioned, and already partly garrisoned; nor could they doubt the joy with +which their old companions would receive them, either to share in the defence +of the post, or to accompany them in an honourable retreat southward. +</p> + +<p> +So, not only those who survived of the fifty who had left Æscendune the +previous morning, but all whom they could persuade to join them, actuated +separately by the same considerations, made their way in small detachments +through the forest towards the hall. Redwald had thoroughly earned the +confidence of all his warriors, and they would follow him to death or victory +with equal devotion. Now, in adversity, they only sought to put themselves once +more under the rule of their talented and daring chieftain. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore it was that while Father Cuthbert was yet kneeling in the chapel, +where the body of the departed thane had been placed, the devotions of the good +priest were disturbed by the blowing of horns and the loud shout whereby the +first fugitives sought admittance into the castle. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald had also been up nearly all night pacing his room, muttering +incoherently to himself. Over and over again he regarded intently a locket +containing a solitary tress of grey hair, and once or twice the word +“Avenged” rose to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“And they little know,” said he, soliloquising, “who the +avenger is, or what have been his wrongs; little know they how the dead is +represented in the halls of his sire—blind! blind! Whichever way the +victory eventually turn, he is avenged.” +</p> + +<p> +While he thus soliloquised he was aroused by the same noise which had disturbed +Father Cuthbert’s devotions, and, recognising its source, betook himself +to the gateway, where some of his own soldiers were on guard, who, true to +discipline, awaited his permission to allow their comrades to enter: it is +needless to say it was readily given. +</p> + +<p> +Broken and dispirited was the little troop of ten or a dozen men, who first +appeared in this manner after the fight; their garments torn and bloody, some +of them wounded, they yet raised a shout of joy as they saw their trusted +leader. +</p> + +<p> +“Whence come ye, my comrades in arms?” said he, “and what are +your news—you look like men who have fled from battle.” +</p> + +<p> +“We did not fly till all was lost.” +</p> + +<p> +The countenance of Redwald indicated some little emotion, though it was +transient as the lightning’s flash in the summer night. +</p> + +<p> +“The king—is it well with him?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has fled with a small troop to the south.” +</p> + +<p> +“Saw you aught of Elfric of Æscendune?” +</p> + +<p> +“He fell in the last charge of the cavalry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“We think so.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is it that you have suffered yourselves to be beaten?” +</p> + +<p> +“Had you been there it might have ended differently. We became the +aggressors, and attacked a superior force, while they had all the advantage of +ground.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come in. You must first have some food and wine; then you shall tell me +all. We may need your help here, and shall be glad of every able-bodied +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“More are on the road.” +</p> + +<p> +And so it proved, for party after party continued to fall in. The solemn quiet, +which so well befitted the house of mourning, was banished by the presence of +the soldiery in such large numbers, for early in the day nearly a hundred and +fifty were gathered together, and accommodation threatened to fall short. +</p> + +<p> +Under these circumstances the lady Edith became very anxious that either the +departure of her unwelcome guests should be hastened, or that the loved remains +should be removed at once to the priory church, where she could bemoan her +grief in quiet solitude, and be alone with her beloved and God. There seemed no +rest or peace possible in the hall, and Redwald was apportioning all the +accommodation to his followers as they came, preserving only the private +apartments of the lady Edith from intrusion. +</p> + +<p> +She was still expecting the arrival of Elfric, for Redwald had not communicated +the news he had received, and she did not even know that King Edwy had been +defeated; so absorbed was she in her grief, that she did not note the thousand +little circumstances which might have told her as much. +</p> + +<p> +But before the hour of terce, Alfred came into the room where she was seated +with her daughter, and she saw by his troubled countenance that he had +something to communicate which pained him to tell. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric!” she said—“he is well?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has not come yet, my mother; and I grieve to say that we were +deceived yesterday—deceived about the battle.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“The king was defeated; he has fled southward, and there has been a great +slaughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Elfric?” +</p> + +<p> +“No one can tell me anything about him,” said Alfred, wringing his +hands. “Mother, you must leave this place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave our home—and now?” +</p> + +<p> +“They talk of defending it against the forces of the Etheling Edgar, who +has been declared king; and we should all be in great danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“But will they stay here against our will?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; for they say their lives depend upon it, that the Mercians scour +all the country round about, that all the roads are now occupied and guarded, +so that they can only hope to defend this place until they can make terms with +the King of Mercia, as they call Edgar, who is likely to be acknowledged by all +north of the Thames. The curse of the Church is, they say, upon Edwy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father Cuthbert is still here, is he not?—what does he advise? +where shall we go?” +</p> + +<p> +“He says we can have the old house in which he, and the mass-thanes <a +href="#EndNoteB7sym" name="EndNoteB7anc"><sup>xxix</sup></a> before him, lived +while as yet the priory was incomplete or unbuilt. It is very comfortable, and +close to the church.” +</p> + +<p> +“But to take him so soon from his home!” +</p> + +<p> +“They will place him in God’s house, before the altar; there could +not be a better place where they or we could wish his dear remains to await the +last rites upon earth.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Father Cuthbert entered the room unannounced. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, my revered lady,” he began; “but I grieve to say +that your safety demands instant action, and must excuse my intrusion; your +life and liberty are no longer safe here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Life and liberty?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is some foul plot to detain you all here, on pretence your safety +requires it. I have been this morning to Redwald, and he refuses permission for +any one to leave the place, asserting that thus only can he assure your safety. +Now, it is plain that if the place comes to be besieged you would be far safer +in the priory or the old priests’ house. Our own countrymen would not +injure us.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will not detain us by force?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would not trust to that; but we must meet guile by guile. I have +pretended to be content on your behalf and he is just going to leave the hall, +with the greater part of his followers, to collect provisions and cattle. I +have told him that the Grange farm is well stocked; he has caught the bait, and +is going to superintend the work of spoliation in person: far better, in the +present need, that he should rob the estate than that a hair of your head or of +those of your children should perish.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why do you suspect him of evil?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell you now. I have overheard dark, dark speeches. So soon as +he has gone, Alfred and I must summon all your own people who are in the hall. +We will then bring the body forth, and follow it ourselves; as we shall +outnumber those left behind I do not imagine they will dare, in his absence, to +interfere with our progress.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will go at once,” said Alfred, “and summon the +household.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; you would be observed. I am older and perhaps a little more +discreet. Stay with your mother till all is ready.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred reluctantly obeyed, and Father Cuthbert went forth. So great was their +anxiety that it almost banished the power of prayer, save such mental shafts as +could be sent heavenward in each interval of thought. +</p> + +<p> +At last Alfred, who was at the window, saw Redwald and his +followers—nearly a hundred in number—leave the castle and ride +across towards the forest in the direction of the farm in question. Another +moment and Father Cuthbert entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you ready? If so, follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +He took them by a private passage into the chapel, where four men already stood +by the bier, ready to head the procession, and thirty or forty others were +gathered in the chapel or about the door—their own vassals, good and +true. They all were armed. +</p> + +<p> +Father Cuthbert ascended the wooden tower above the chapel, which served as a +bell cot. He looked from its windows; the party of Redwald had disappeared +behind the trees. +</p> + +<p> +He came down and gave the signal. The sad procession started; they descended +the steps to the courtyard. Redwald had left some forty or fifty men +behind—men who had grown old in arms, and who, if they had pleased, might +perhaps have stopped the exit, but they were not sufficiently in the confidence +of their leader to take the initiative; and the only man who was in his +confidence, and whom he had charged to see that no one departed, was +fortunately at that moment in another part of the building. The sentinel at the +drawbridge was one of Redwald’s troop. He menaced opposition, and refused +to let the drawbridge be peaceably lowered. +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou a Christian?” said Father Cuthbert, coming forward in his +priestly attire, “and dost thou presume to interfere with a servant of +the Lord and to delay a funeral?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must obey my orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will excommunicate thee, and deliver thy soul to Satan.” +</p> + +<p> +And he began to utter some awful Latin imprecation, which so aroused the +superstition of the sentinel that he made no further opposition, which perhaps +saved his life, for the retainers of Æscendune were meditating instant +violence, indignant at the delay and the outrage to their lady. +</p> + +<p> +They themselves let the drawbridge down and guarded the sad cortege over the +plain. Their numbers increased every moment, and before they reached the +neighbourhood of the priory they had little cause to fear any attack, should +Redwald have arrived and have been rash enough to attempt one. +</p> + +<p> +The old parsonage house, which had served for the residence of each successive +parish prior or mass-thane, was a large and commodious building, containing all +such accommodation as the family absolutely required in the emergency, while +furniture, provision and comforts of all kinds were sent over from the priory, +for the good fathers did not forget at this hour of need that they owed their +own home to the liberality of Ella and his father. +</p> + +<p> +So when they had deposited the loved remains before the altar of the church, +and had knelt a brief season in prayer, the exiled family took possession of +their temporary home. It was hard—very hard—to give up their loved +dwelling at such a season of affliction, but the dread which Redwald had +somehow inspired made it a great relief to be removed from his immediate +presence. +</p> + +<p> +Yet they could give no reason for the feeling they all shared. Father Cuthbert +evidently suspected, or knew, things which he as yet concealed from them. +</p> + +<p> +“Who could have slain the husband and father?” +</p> + +<p> +This was the unanswered question. Their suspicions could only turn to Redwald +or some of his crew: no marauders were known to lurk in the forest; there was, +they felt assured, not one of his own people who would not have died in his +defence. Again, it was not the lust of gold which had suggested the deed, for +they had found the gold chain he wore untouched. What then could have been the +motive of the murderer? +</p> + +<p> +Father Cuthbert had found a solution, which was based upon sad experience of +the traditional feuds so frequently handed down from father to son. Still he +would not suggest further cause of disquietude, and added no further words. +</p> + +<p> +The utter uncertainty about Elfric was another cause of uneasiness. Whether he +had gone southward with the king, or had fallen on the battlefield, they knew +not; or whether he had surrendered with the prisoners taken in the entrenched +camp, and who had been all admitted to mercy. +</p> + +<p> +In the course of the morning they saw Redwald return, laden with the spoils of +the Grange farm—oxen and sheep, waggons containing corn, driven before +him. What passed within on his entrance they could not tell; how narrow their +escape they knew not—were not even certain it had been an escape at all. +</p> + +<p> +It was now determined that the interment should take place on the morrow, and +the intelligence was communicated rapidly to all the tenantry. +</p> + +<p> +Hourly they expected the forces of Mercia to appear, and exact a heavy account +from Redwald for his offences. He was supposed to be the instigator of the +expedition which had failed so utterly; it was not likely that he would be +allowed to retain Æscendune a long time. The only surprise people felt was +that he should have dared to remain at the post when all hope of successful +resistance had ceased. He had his own reasons, which they knew not. +</p> + +<p> +Under these circumstances it seemed desirable to hurry forward the interment, +lest it should be interfered with from without, in the confusion of hostile +operations against the hall. +</p> + +<p> +The priory church was a noble but irregular structure, of great size for those +days. The cunning architect from the Continent, who had designed it, had far +surpassed the builders of ordinary churches in the grandeur of his conception. +The lofty roof, the long choir beyond the transept, gave the idea of magnitude +most forcibly, and added dignity to the design. In the south transept was a +chapel dedicated especially to St. Cuthbert, where the aged Offa reposed, and +the mother of Ella. There they had removed the body to await the last solemn +rites. Six large wax tapers burned around it, and watchers were there day and +night—mourners who had loved him well, and felt that in him they had lost +a dear friend. +</p> + +<p> +The wife, the son, or the daughter, were ever there, but seldom alone. For when +the monks in the choir were not saying the canonical hours, or the low mass was +not being said at one of the side altars, still the voice of intercession +arose, with its burden: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Eternal rest give unto him, O Lord,<br/> +And let perpetual light shine upon him.” +</p> + +<p> +At length the morning came, the second only after death. The neighbouring +thanes whom the troubled times did not detain at home, the churls of the +estate, the thralls, crowded the precincts of the minster, as the solemn bell +tolled the deep funeral knell. At length the monks poured into the church, +while the solemn “<i>Domino refugium</i>” arose from their +lips—the same grand words which for these thousand years past have told +of the eternity of God and the destiny of the creature; speaking as deeply to +the heart then as in these days of civilisation. +</p> + +<p> +The mourners entered, Alfred supporting his widowed mother, who had summoned +all her fortitude to render the last sad offices to her dear lord; her +daughter, a few distant relations—there were none nearer of kin. The +bier, with its precious burden, was placed in the centre before the high altar. +Six monks, bearing torches, knelt around it. A pall, beautifully embroidered, +covered the coffin, a wreath of flowers surmounting a cross was placed upon it. +</p> + +<p> +The solemn requiem mass commenced, and the great Sacrifice once offered upon +Calvary was pleaded for the soul of the deceased thane. When the last prayer +had been said, the coffin was sprinkled with hallowed water, and perfumed with +sweet incense, after which it was removed to its last resting place. The grave +was already prepared. Again the earthly cavern was sprinkled with the hallowed +water, emblematical of the blood of sprinkling which speaketh better things +than that of Abel, and the body—the sacred dust for which Christ had +died, in which God had dwelt as in a temple—was lowered, to be sown in +corruption, that hereafter it might be raised in incorruption and joy +unspeakable. +</p> + +<p> +All crowded to take the last sad look. Alfred felt his dear mother’s arm +tremble as she leant on him, yet gazed firmly into that last resting place, +while the solemn strain arose: +</p> + +<p> +“Ego sum resurrectio et vita. Qui credit in Me, etiam si mortuus fuerit +vivet; et omnis qui vivit, et credit in Me, non morietur in æternum.” <a +href="#EndNoteB8sym" name="EndNoteB8anc"><sup>xxx</sup></a> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br/> +“AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT.”</h2> + +<p> +The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn what had really been the +fate of the unhappy Elfric of Æscendune—whether he had indeed been cut +off with the work of repentance incomplete, or whether he yet survived to +realise the calamity which had fallen upon his household. +</p> + +<p> +He lived. When the blow of his adversary, as we have seen, crushed him to the +earth, and he lay there with his head on the ground, prostrate, amidst kicking +and plunging hoofs, and the roar and confusion of deadly strife, Providence, +without which not one sparrow falleth to the ground, watched over him, and +averted the iron hoofs from his forehead. Could one have concentrated his gaze +upon that little spot of earth and have seen the furious hoofs graze, without +injuring, that tender forehead, could he have beheld the gallop of the +retreating steeds over and around that senseless form, for it now lay +senseless, he would have realised that there is One Whose Eye is observant of +each minute detail which concerns the life of His beloved ones—nay, Who +knows the movements of the tiniest insect, while His Hand directs the rolling +spheres. And his care preserved Elfric for His Own wise ends, until the fight +receded, leaving its traces behind it, as when the tide of ocean recedes after +a storm and the beach is strewn with wreck—bodies of men, of horses, +mutilated, dismembered, dead or dying, disabled or desperately wounded. +</p> + +<p> +Hours had passed, during which the sounds of the combat still maintained at the +entrenched camp came freshly on the ear, and then died away, until the solemn +night fell upon the scene, and the only sound which smote the ear were faint, +faint moans—cries of “Water! water!” incessantly repeated +from hundreds of feeble lips. +</p> + +<p> +It was then that Elfric awoke from the insensibility which had resulted from +exhaustion and the stunning blow he had received in his fall. Every limb seemed +in pain, for the loss of blood had not left the vital powers strength for the +maintenance of the due circulation through the body, and the cold night air +chilled the frame. He did not at first comprehend where he was, but as his +senses returned he perceived all too well that he was left for dead. +</p> + +<p> +His first impulse was to see whether he had strength to arise. He raised +himself partially, first on one elbow, and then he strove to stand up, but fell +back feebly and helplessly, like an infant who first essays to escape its +mother’s arms and to trust its feeble limbs. +</p> + +<p> +Then he looked around him, thus raising his head, and gazed upon the sad and +shocking scene. Close by him, with the head cleft literally in two by a +battle-axe, lay a horseman, and his blood reddened all the ground around +Elfric’s feet, and had deeply dyed the youth’s lower garments; a +horse, his own, lay dead, the jugular vein cut through, with all the +surrounding muscles and sinews; hard by, a rider had fallen with such impetus, +that his helmet had fixed itself deeply in the ground, and the body seemed as +if it had quivered for the moment in the air; a dart had transfixed another +through belt and stomach, and he lay with the weapon appearing on either side +the body. Near these lay another, whose thigh had been pierced to the great +artery, and who had bled to death, as the deadly paleness of the face showed; +here and there one yet lived, as faint moan and broken utterance testified; but +Elfric could bear no more, his head sank upon the ground, and he hid his face. +</p> + +<p> +It was bright starlight, and the gleam of the heavenly host seemed to mock the +wounded youth as he thought of the previous night, when, sound in body, he had +wandered beneath the glittering canopy of the heavens; and thus reminded, all +the thoughts of that previous night came back upon him, especially the +remembrance of his sin, of his desertion of his father, of his vicious life at +court, of his neglect for three years and more of all the obligations of +religion, and he groaned aloud in the anguish of his spirit. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! spare me, my God!” he cried, “for I am not fit to die! +Spare me, that I may at least receive my father’s forgiveness.” +</p> + +<p> +For he felt as if he could not ask God to forgive him until he had been +forgiven by his father. Little did he think, poor boy, that that father lay +cold in death; that never could he hear the blessed words of forgiveness from +his tongue; neither had he the consolation of knowing how completely he had +been forgiven, and how lovingly he had been remembered in his father’s +last hours upon earth. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot die! I cannot die!” thus he cried; and he strove again to +raise himself from the ground, but in vain; strove again, as if he would have +dragged his feeble body through pain and anguish all the way to Æscendune, but +could not. The story of the prodigal son, often told him by Father Cuthbert, +came back to him, not so much in its spiritual as in its literal aspect: he +would fain arise and go to his father; but he could not. +</p> + +<p> +“O happy prodigal!” he cried; “thou couldst at least go from +that far off country, and the husks which the swine did eat; but I cannot, I +cannot!” +</p> + +<p> +While thus grieving in bitterness of spirit, he saw a light flitting about +amongst the dead bodies, and stopping every now and then; once he saw it pause, +and heard a cry of expostulation, then a faint scream, and all was still; and +he comprehended that this was no ministering angel, but one of those villainous +beings who haunt the battlefield to prey upon the slain, and to despatch with +short mercy those who offer resistance. +</p> + +<p> +He lay very, very quiet, hoping that the light would not come near him, and he +trembled every time it bent its course that way; but at length his fears seemed +about to be realised—it drew near, and he saw the face of a hideous +looking hag, dressed in coarse and vile garments, who held a bloody dagger in +the right hand, and kept the left in a kind of bag, tied to her person, in +which she had evidently accumulated great store. Her eyes were roaming about, +until the light suddenly was reflected from the poor lad’s brilliant +accoutrements, and she advanced towards him. +</p> + +<p> +He groaned, and sank backwards, and her hand was upon the dagger, while she +cast such a look as the fabled vampire might cast upon her destined victim, +loving gold much, but perhaps blood most, when all at once she turned and fled. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric knew not what had saved him; when voices fell upon his ear, and the +baying of a dog. +</p> + +<p> +“Which way has that hag fled? Pursue her, she murders the wounded.” +</p> + +<p> +The sound of rushing feet was heard, and Elfric felt that help was near, yet +leaving him, and he cried aloud, “Help! help! for the love of God.” +</p> + +<p> +One delayed in his course, and came and stood over the prostrate form. It was a +monk, for the boy recognised the Benedictine habit, and his heart sank within +him as he remembered how pitilessly he had helped to drive that habit from +Glastonbury. +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou grievously wounded, my son?” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel faint, even unto death, with loss of blood. Oh! remove me, and +bear me home; if thou art a man of God leave me not here to perish in my +sins.” +</p> + +<p> +The piteous appeal went to the heart of the monk, and he knelt down, and by the +aid of a small lamp, examined the wounds of the sufferer. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou mayst yet live, my son,” he said; “tell me where is thy +home; is it in Mercia?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is! it is! My home is Æscendune; it is not far from here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Æscendune—knowest thou Father Cuthbert?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do indeed; he was my tutor, once my spiritual father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thy name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, son of the thane Ella.” +</p> + +<p> +The monk started, then raised a loud cry, which speedily brought two or three +men in the dress of thralls (theows) to his side. +</p> + +<p> +“She will murder no more, father; the dog overtook her, and held her till +we came; she was red with blood, and we knocked her down; Oswy here brained her +with his club.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is well—she deserved her fate; but, Oswy, look at this +face.” +</p> + +<p> +“St. Wilfred preserve us!” cried the man “it is the young +lord. He is not dying, is he? She hadn’t hurt him—the +she-wolf?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, we were just in time, and only just in time; we must carry him home +to his father.” +</p> + +<p> +The monk had started for the expected scene of battle, intent on doing good, +with a small party of the thralls of Æscendune, just after Edwy had left the +hall; consequently, he knew nothing of the death of the thane or the subsequent +events. Oh, how sweetly his words fell upon Elfric’s ears, “Carry +him home to his father.” +</p> + +<p> +A litter was speedily made; one of the thralls jumped into a willow tree which +overhung the stream, and cut down some of the stoutest boughs. The others wove +them with withes into a kind of litter, threw their own upper garments thereon +in their love, placed the poor wounded form as tenderly upon it as a mother +would have done, and bore him from the field, ever and anon stopping to relieve +some other poor wounded sufferer, and to comfort him with the intelligence that +similar aid was at hand for all, as the various lights now appearing testified. +</p> + +<p> +For themselves, they felt all other obligation fade before their duty to their +young lord. He was object of their solicitude. +</p> + +<p> +So they bore him easily along, until they reached a stream; there they paused +and washed the heated brow, and allowed the parched lips to imbibe, but only +slightly, the pure fresh beverage, sweeter far than the stimulant the good monk +had poured down his throat on the field. Then they arranged his +dress—bound up his wounds, for the Benedictine was an accomplished +surgeon for the times; after which, having satisfied himself that his patient +was able to bear the transit, he departed, with a cheerful benediction, to +render the like aid to others. +</p> + +<p> +So comforted was Elfric, and so relieved from pain, that he slept all through +the following hours, as they bore him along through woodland paths; and he +dreamt that he had met his father and was clasped lovingly in his forgiving +arms. +</p> + +<p> +At daybreak they were six or seven miles from the camp, and they rested, for +the continued effort had wearied the bearers. They made a fire, cooked their +breakfast, and tried to persuade Elfric to eat, which he did, sparingly. +</p> + +<p> +Then they resumed their journey; they kept as much in the shade as possible, +for it was a bright day; rested again at noontide, with only five or six miles +before them; started when the heat was a little overpast, and just after sunset +came in sight of the halls of Æscendune, from the opening in the forest whence +Elfric had beheld them that night when he first brought Prince Edwy home in +company with his brother Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +The wounded youth raised himself up, looked with intense affection at the home +of his youth, and sank back contented on his couch, thinking only of father and +mother, brother and sister, and the sweet forgiveness he felt sure awaited him. +Poor boy! +</p> + +<p> +It was almost dark when they reached the gate of the castle, and the drawbridge +was up. One of the bearers blew his horn loudly, and the summons brought the +warder to the little window over the postern gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you, and what do you seek?” was the cry. +</p> + +<p> +“We are bringing my young lord, Elfric of Æscendune, home from the +battlefield wounded.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a while.” +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes passed; then the drawbridge was lowered, and the bearers bore +their burden into the courtyard. Every moment Elfric expected to see the +beloved faces bending over him; but all seemed strange, till he remembered that +Redwald had remained behind at the hall; the four bearers spoke uneasily to one +another, and Oswy disappeared in the dusky twilight. +</p> + +<p> +At length three or four men, in the military costume so familiar to Elfric, +approached the litter; and raising him, bore him into the interior of the +building, up the stairs, into the gallery, which partly ran round at the height +of the first floor. The door of a room was opened, a familiar room; it had been +his father’s bedroom, and Elfric was placed on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask them to come to me,” he said “father, mother, Alfred, +Edgitha!—where are they?” +</p> + +<p> +But minute after minute passed by, and no one came near; there was no light in +the room, and it was soon very dark. Elfric became very uncomfortable; it was +not the kind of reception he had promised himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Why does not my father come,” he muttered impatiently, “to +see his wounded boy?” and he felt at one moment his pride revive, then a +sickening feeling of anxiety filled his heart. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not until an hour had passed that he heard a heavy step on the +stairs, and soon the door opened, and Redwald appeared. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric gazed upon him with surprise; especially when he noted the stern cold +look which sat on his features. As Redwald did not speak, Elfric took the +initiative. +</p> + +<p> +“Why is not my father here? I want to see him, Redwald; do send him to +me; say I must see him, I must—I cannot endure this longer; it is more +than I can bear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Calm yourself and listen to me, for I have a strange story to unfold to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not now; some other time; do send them to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must be heard now; and perhaps when you have heard it, you will +comprehend why they do not come.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they will come?” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, there was, two generations back, a man who had two sons; he was +a noble thane of high descent, his eldest son was worthy of his father, high +souled, impetuous, brave, fiery, and in short, all a warrior’s son should +be: the younger son had the heart of a monk, and was learned in all pious +tricks; he stole the father’s heart from his elder brother.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric began to listen at this point. +</p> + +<p> +“At last, misjudgment and unkindness drove the elder brother from home, +and he sought food and shelter from men who had the souls of conquerors. With +them he lived, for his father disinherited him; he had no father, he had no +country.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric began to draw his breath quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“At length war arose between those who had sheltered and protected him, +and the people who should have been his own people; say what side was the exile +to be found on?” +</p> + +<p> +“He should have fought with his own people.” +</p> + +<p> +“His own people were those who had really adopted him when his father and +family disowned him, and with them he fought for victory; but the fates were +unpropitious, the people with whom his father and brother fought were +successful; the son was taken prisoner, and adjudged to die a traitor’s +death, his own father and brother consenting.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric began to comprehend all. +</p> + +<p> +“They put him on board an open boat, and sent him out to sea, at the +mercy of winds and waves; but not alone; he had married amongst the people who +had adopted him, and his boy would not forsake his sire, for he had one +boy—the mother was dead. This boy besought the hard-hearted executioners +of a tyrant’s will to let him share the fate of his sire, so earnestly, +that at last they consented.” +</p> + +<p> +“The boat, as it pleased fate, was driven by wind and tide on the shore +of Denmark, and there the unhappy exile landed; but he had been wounded in the +battle, and his subsequent exposure caused his early death; before he died he +bequeathed one legacy, and only one, to his son— +</p> + +<p> +“Vengeance.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric was pale as death, and trembled visibly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you are—” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, I am your cousin, and the deadly foe of you and yours!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then my poor father; but if you must find a victim seek it in me; spare +him! oh, spare him!” +</p> + +<p> +Redwald smiled; but such a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“At least let me see him now, and obtain his forgiveness. Redwald, he is +my father; you were faithful to your father; let me atone for my unfaithfulness +to mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“You believe there is another world, perhaps?” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric only answered by a look of piteous alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, in that case, you must seek your father there; although I fear +Dunstan would say there is likely to be a gulf between you.” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric comprehended him, and with a cry which might have melted a heart of +stone, fell back upon the bed. For a moment he lay like one stunned, then began +to utter incoherent ravings, and gazed vacantly around, as one who is +delirious. +</p> + +<p> +Redwald seemed for one moment like a man contending with himself, like one who +felt pity struggling with sterner emotions; yet the contest was very short. +</p> + +<p> +“It is of no use—he must die; if hearts break, I hope his will +break, and save me the task of shedding his blood, or causing it to be shed; +there must be no weakness now; he has been sadly wounded; if he is left alone, +he will die; better so—I would spare him if I were not bound by an oath +so dread that I shudder to think of it. The others have escaped: he must +die.” +</p> + +<p> +Still he walked to and fro, as if pity yet contended with the thirst for +vengeance in his hardened breast: perhaps it was his day of grace, and the +Spirit of Him, Who has said “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” +pleaded hard with the sinner. Yet the gentle Voice pleaded in vain; still he +walked to and fro, until his resolution seemed firmly made; and he left the +chamber, fastening it on the outside. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br/> +“UNDER WHICH KING?”</h2> + +<p> +It will be remembered that one of the theows who had borne Elfric home from the +field of battle had become alarmed by the suspicious aspect of things at the +hall, and had escaped, by prompt evasion, the confinement which awaited his +companions. Oswy, for it was he, thus showed his natural astuteness, while he +also conferred the greatest possible obligation upon Elfric, since he bore the +news of his ill-timed arrival at once to the priory. +</p> + +<p> +Here his worst suspicions were confirmed; and the faithful thrall heard for the +first time of the death of his late lord, and that he had given his young +master into the hands of his bitter foes. Alfred was at once summoned; and a +conference was held, in which Father Cuthbert, his brethren, and the +chamberlain and steward of the hall, took part. +</p> + +<p> +“It is now generally believed,” said Father Cuthbert, “that +Redwald is the bitter enemy, for some reason, of the house of Æscendune. Has +any one here suspected that reason?” +</p> + +<p> +No one could give any reply. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear what I am about to say,” he continued, “will startle +you all. Redwald is a member of the family himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“A member of the family!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Is there any one present who remembers the unhappy brother of our +late lamented lord—Oswald, the son of Offa?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the old chamberlain, “I remember him well; and I +see now what you mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is not the expression of the face identical? Are they not the same +features, as one might say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet Redwald is much darker.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because his mother was Danish, and he has inherited some of her +peculiarities, that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still,” said the steward, “every one supposed that the +unhappy Oswald perished at sea with his son. Never shall I forget the grief of +the old thane Offa, when inquiring for the son, he learned that he had gone +with the father to his death. He would have adopted him.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do we not,” added a Benedictine, “say a mass daily at +St. Wilfred’s altar for the souls of Oswald and his son Ragnar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oswald may be dead; Ragnar yet lives in Redwald. The name alone is +changed.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where are the proofs? We cannot wholly trust an imaginary +resemblance.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not imaginary; and these are the proofs in question. The night +after the murder” (all looked at each other as if a sudden inspiration +struck them), “as I was going to the chapel from the lady Edith’s +apartments, I passed through a passage little used, but leading past the +chamber allotted to Redwald, and only separated by a thin wainscoting. I was +startled as I passed it by the sound of a pacing to and fro; an incessant +pacing; and I heard the inmate of the room soliloquising with himself as in a +state of frenzied feeling. I caught only broken words but again and again I +heard ‘Avenged;’ and once ‘Father you are avenged;’ and +once ‘Little do they know who is their guest;’ once ‘It is a +good beginning,’ and such like ejaculations. I remained a long time, +because, as you will all see, the murderer stood revealed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why did you not tell us before?” exclaimed all, almost in a +breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Because it would have been of no avail. Had there been the least chance +of calling him to account, I should, you may be sure, have proclaimed his +guilt. But early in the morning fresh forces began to arrive to his aid. My +only endeavour was to get the lady Edith and her remaining children safe from +the castle; and it was only by dissembling my feelings, by talking face to face +with the man of blood, by pretending to trust him, that I could succeed. Had he +not thought us all perfectly satisfied, he would never have left the hall to go +foraging in person; and now all would be well, but for this sad, sad chance, +which has placed the poor lad Elfric in his power.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Alfred, “this makes the case worse than ever. +Poor Elfric! they will kill him. Oh, can this be Ragnar?” +</p> + +<p> +The Benedictines expressed themselves convinced, because the supposition +explained the present circumstances so clearly, and accounted for that hitherto +unaccountable circumstance—the murder. The steward and chamberlain both +fancied they recognised the family likeness; and so the solution at which +Father Cuthbert had arrived was accepted by all. +</p> + +<p> +The question was now what course to adopt, for the night was fast wearing away. +</p> + +<p> +“Two things are to be done,” said Father Cuthbert. “The first +is to secure the safety of the lady Edith and her children from any sudden +attack from the castle, to which effect I propose holding all the vassals in +arms; and, in case of any force leaving the hall, I purpose giving the lady +Edith and her daughter instant sanctuary in the priory, while the vassals +gather round its precincts; for, I fear me, this Ragnar is a heathen, and would +but little respect the house of God.” +</p> + +<p> +“Could we not attack the hall and release Elfric? Think of Elfric,” +said Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be madness; Redwald has more than a hundred and fifty men of +war within it. The place is full; we could not attack with the least chance of +success. No: the second thing I meant to propose was this, that we should send +an instant message to King Edgar, who is near at hand, and explain the whole +circumstances to him. He has many causes of enmity against Redwald, and would +probably come to our aid at once, as the safety of his realm would require him +to do eventually.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me be the messenger; he will surely listen to the pleadings of a +brother for a brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had so designed,” said Father Cuthbert; “and in order that +no chance may be thrown away, I will adventure myself in the lion’s den, +and threaten with the penalties of excommunication this vindictive Redwald or +Ragnar.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, father; you will never come out alive. No, no!” said they all. +</p> + +<p> +The last proposal was universally discouraged. Redwald had already special +cause of enmity against Father Cuthbert, who had robbed him of part of his +destined prey; and it was ultimately settled that Father Swithin, another of +the order, should be charged with the mission, with the power to make +conciliatory offers, or to act on the other course as he should see fit; in +short, to use all his wit for Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred did not delay a moment unnecessarily, but in the dawning light set +forward to seek Edgar, of whom he had no definite information, but who was +believed to linger in the neighbourhood of the battlefield, holding council +with earls and thanes as to the further steps to be taken, and receiving the +submission of the whole Mercian, East Anglian, and Northumbrian nobility. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, mounted upon a good steed, and accompanied by Oswy, he rapidly +traversed the country over which his brother had been so painfully borne; +slowly, however, in places, for here and there large tracts of swamp obstructed +the way, and in other places the thickets were dense and impervious; even where +the country was cultivated the unpaved roads were rough and hazardous for +riders. +</p> + +<p> +It was past the hour of nones, the ninth hour of the day, when the riders +reached the battlefield, which still bore frightful traces of the recent +combat; reddened with blood, which had left its dark traces on large patches of +the ground, and encumbered with the bodies of horses and men which had not yet +found sepulture, although bands of theows from the neighbouring estates were +busily engaged in the necessary toil, excavating huge pits, and placing the +dead—no longer rivals—reverently and decently in their last long +home. Several wolves could be discerned, hanging about under the skirts of the +forest, but not daring to come out into the plain while the day lasted and the +men were about; whole flocks of ravenous birds flew about the scene, now +settling down on the spots where the strife had been hottest, now soaring away +when disturbed in their sickening feast. +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time Alfred had ever gazed upon a battlefield; and now he saw +it stripped of all the romance and glamour which bards had thrown over it, and +the sight appalled him. +</p> + +<p> +He drew near a large pit into which the thralls were casting the dead. Many of +the bodies presented, as we have already seen, a most ghastly spectacle; and +nearly all had begun to decompose. Mentally he thanked God that Elfric, at +least, was not there; and he turned aside his head in horror at the sight. +</p> + +<p> +He now inquired of the foreman of the labourers whether he knew where the +Etheling Edgar would be. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean King Edgar, for the Mercians will acknowledge no other king. +The people of Wessex may keep the enemy of the saints, if they like.” +</p> + +<p> +“King Edgar, I mean. Where is he now?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has been holding a council at Tamworth town, in the old palace of +King Offa; and they say all the tributary kings have come there to be his men, +and all the great earls.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you tell me the nearest road to Tamworth?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it lies through the forest there, where you see those wolves +lurking about. They will begin to be dangerous when the sun goes down, and +perhaps some of them would not mind a snap at a horse or even a man, +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must take our chance;” said Alfred: “life and death hang +on our speed,” and he and Oswy rode on. +</p> + +<p> +The wolves were no longer seen. In the summer they generally avoided men, at +least during the day, and they were gradually becoming more uncommon at that +date. Alfred entertained little fear as he proceeded, until the darkening +shadows showed that night was near, and they were still in the heart of the +forest, when he began to feel alarmed. The road before them was a good wide +woodland path, and easy to follow even in the gathering darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly their horses started violently, as a loud howl was heard behind, and +repeated immediately from different quarters of the forest. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred felt that it was the gathering of the ferocious beasts, which had been +attracted from distant forests by the scent of the battlefield, and had thus +happened to lie in increased numbers around their path. The howling continued +to increase, and their horses sped onward as if mad with fear—it was all +they could do to guide them safely. +</p> + +<p> +Nearer and nearer drew the fearful sound; and looking back they beheld the +fiery eyes swarming along the road after them. They had begun to abandon hope, +when all at once they heard the sound of advancing horsemen in front of them, +accompanied by the clank of arms. The wolves heard it too, and with all the +cunning cowardice of their race scampered away from their intended prey, just +as Alfred and Oswy avoided impaling themselves upon the lances of the coming +deliverers. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom have we here, riding at this pace through the woods?” cried +out a rough, manly voice. +</p> + +<p> +“The wolves were after the poor fellows,” said another. +</p> + +<p> +“They may speak for themselves,” said the leader, confronting +Alfred. “Art thou a Mercian and a friend of King Edgar? Under which king? +Speak, or die!” +</p> + +<p> +“I seek King Edgar. My name is Alfred, son of Ella of Æscendune.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who sheltered the men of Wessex, and entertained the impious Edwy in his +castle.” +</p> + +<p> +“We had no power to resist had we wished to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which you evidently did not. May a plain soldier ask you now why you +seek King Edgar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” said Alfred, “my father has been murdered, and my +brother made a prisoner by Redwald, the captain of King Edwy’s +hus-carles, who holds our house, and has driven us all out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your father murdered! Your family expelled! Your brother a prisoner! +These are strange news.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why this delay!” cried another speaker, riding up from behind. +“The king is impatient to get on. Ride faster.” +</p> + +<p> +“The king!” cried Alfred. “Oh, lead me to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is this,” demanded the second officer, “who demands +speech of the royal Edgar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred of Æscendune. He tells us that the infamous Redwald holds the +fortified house there, has murdered the thane Ella, and expelled the family, +save the brother, whom he holds to ransom.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not to ransom,” cried Alfred. “It is his life that is +threatened. Oh, take me to Edgar!” +</p> + +<p> +“He is close behind, in company with the Ealdorman of Mercia and Siward +of Northumbria.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay behind with him, Biorn, and let us continue our route. You may +introduce him to the king, if he will see him.” +</p> + +<p> +The first party—the advance guard—now passed on, and was succeeded +almost immediately by the main body, foremost amongst whom rode Prince or +rather King Edgar, then only a youth of fifteen years of age. We last beheld +him a boy of twelve, at the date of Elfric’s arrival at the court of +Edred. By his side rode Siward, Ealdorman of Northumbria. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is this?” cried the latter, as he saw Alfred and his attendant +waiting to receive him. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred of Æscendune, with a petition for aid against Redwald, who has +seized his father’s castle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred of Æscendune!” cried Edgar. “Halt, my friends, one +moment. Alfred of Æscendune, tell me your story; to me, Edgar, your +king.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred hastened to pour his tale of sorrows into an ear evidently not +unsympathising, and when he had concluded Edgar asked —“And tell me +what is your request. It shall be granted even to the uttermost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only that you, my lord, would hasten to our aid and deliver my brother +for his poor widowed mother’s sake.” +</p> + +<p> +“We should send a troop against Redwald in any case, but even had our +plans been otherwise, know this, Alfred of Æscendune, that he who by his +devoted service saved the life, or at least the liberty, of Dunstan, the light +of our realm of England, and the favourite of heaven, has a claim to ask any +favour Edgar can grant. +</p> + +<p> +“Siward, my father, bid the advanced guard bend its course towards +Æscendune at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, the men are too weary to travel all night. We had purposed +halting when we reached the battlefield on our march southward. There is a +cross-country road thence to Æscendune, almost impassable in the night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we will travel early in the morning; and doubt not, Alfred, we +shall arrive in time to chastise this insolent aggressor. Redwald has been my +poor brother’s evil spirit in all things; he shall die, I swear +it,” said the precocious Edgar, a man before his time. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my lord,” said Alfred, “may I ask but one favour, that +you will permit me to proceed and relieve the anxiety of my people with the +tidings of your approach?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you must leave our side, such an errand would seem to justify you. +Poor Elfric! I remember him well. I could not have thought him in any danger +from Redwald.” +</p> + +<p> +“Redwald is his, is our bitterest foe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” said Edgar, and proceeded to elicit the whole history of +the case from Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +The sad tale was not complete till they reached the battlefield, and encamped +in the entrenchments the young prince had occupied the night before the combat. +</p> + +<p> +“We had intended,” said Edgar, “to march at once for London, +owing to news we have received from the south, but we will tarry at Æscendune +until the work is completed there, even if it cost us our crown. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Siward, I may have my way this once. I am soldier enough to know I +may not leave an enemy behind me on my march.” +</p> + +<p> +“But a small detachment might accomplish the work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will go with it myself; my heart is in it. But, Alfred, you look +very ill; you cannot proceed tonight. When did you sleep last?” +</p> + +<p> +“Three nights ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it would be madness to proceed; you must sleep, and at early dawn +you shall precede us on my own charger—which has been led all the +way—if your own is too wearied, and with an attendant or two in case of +danger from man or beast. Nay, it must be so.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred, who could scarcely stand for very fatigue, was forced to yield, and +that night he slept soundly in the camp of Edgar. At the first dawn they +aroused him from sleep, and he found a splendid warhorse awaiting him—a +gift, they told him, from Edgar. Two attendants, well mounted, awaited him in +company with Oswy. He would willingly have dispensed with their company; but he +was told that the king, anxious for his safety, had insisted upon their +attending him, and that they were answerable for his safe return to Æscendune, +the country being considered dangerous for travellers in its present disturbed +state. +</p> + +<p> +So he yielded; and before the king had arisen he left the camp, after a hasty +meal, and rode as rapidly as the roads would permit towards his desolated home. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br/> +LOVE STRONG AS DEATH.</h2> + +<p> +Meanwhile Father Swithin had gone alone and unprotected, save by his sacred +character, into the very jaws of the lion; or rather, would have gone, had he +been suffered to do so; for when he approached the hall he found the drawbridge +up, and the whole place guarded as in a state of siege. +</p> + +<p> +He advanced, nothing daunted, in front of the yawning gap where the bridge +should have been, and cried aloud—“What ho! porter; I demand speech +of my lord Redwald.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may demand speech—swine may demand pearls—but I +don’t think you will get it. Deliver me your message.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell your lord, rude churl, that I, Father Swithin, of the holy Order of +St. Benedict, have come, in the name of the rightful owners of this house, and +in the power of the Church, to demand that he deliver up Elfric of Æscendune +to the safe keeping of his friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will send your message; but keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Sir +Monk, and don’t begin muttering any of your accursed Latin, or I will see +whether the Benedictine frock is proof against an arrow.” +</p> + +<p> +In a short time Redwald appeared on the roof, above the gateway. +</p> + +<p> +“What dost thou require, Sir Monk?” said he; “thy words sound +strange in my ears.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am come, false traitor,” said Father Swithin, waxing wroth, +“to demand the person of Elfric of Æscendune, whom thou detainest +contrary to God’s law and the king’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric of Æscendune! right glad am I to hear that he is alive; my +followers have brought me word that they saw him fall in battle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, spare thy deceit, thou son of perdition, for well do we know that +he was brought home wounded last night. One of his bearers escaped thy toils, +even as a bird the snare of the fowler, and is now with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly the loon has lied unto you. Rejoiced should I be to see the +unhappy youth, and to know that he yet lived. I but hold this place, faithful +to his lord and mine, Edwy, King of all England.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why hast thou expelled the rightful dwellers therein from their +house and home? We know Elfric is with thee, and that thou art a traitor, +wherefore, deliver him up, or we will even excommunicate thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hadst better not begin in the hearing of the men who sit upon the +wall; for myself, excommunication cannot hurt a man who never goes to church, +and does not company over much with those who do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Infidel! heretic! pagan! misbeliever! accursed Ragnar!” began the +irate monk, when an arrow, perhaps only meant to frighten him (for they could +hardly have missed so fair a mark), glanced by him. +</p> + +<p> +He retreated, but still continued his maledictions. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Excommunicabo te, et omnes tibi adhærentes</i>; thou art an accursed +parricide, who hast raised thine hand against thy father’s house. <i>Vade +retro, Sathanas</i>, I will shake off the dust of my feet against +thee,”—another arrow stuck in his frock—“thou shalt +share the fate of Sodom, yea of Gomorrha; <i>in manus inimici trado +te</i>;” by this time his words were inaudible; and he departed, not +having accomplished much good, but having nevertheless informed Redwald of two +great facts—the first, that Elfric’s return was blazed abroad; the +second, that his own identity was more than suspected. +</p> + +<p> +“Ragnar!” said he, “What fiend has told them that? how came +they to suspect? Confusion! it will foil all my plans, and my vengeance will be +incomplete. At least this one victim must not escape, and yet I had sooner he +should escape than any other member of the house. Poor boy! the sins of the +fathers are heavy upon the children, as these Christians have it; but my oath, +my oath taken before a dying father! no; he must die!” +</p> + +<p> +So spake the avenger of blood, a man whose heart was evidently not all of iron; +yet from childhood had he striven to restrain every tender impulse, and had +bound himself to vengeance. Long years of peace in England had come between him +and the execution of his projects, and he had prepared himself for the task he +never lost sight of, by acquiring all the accomplishments of a knight and +warrior, and even of a man of letters, at that court of Rouen, now rapidly +becoming the focus of European chivalry, where the fierce barbarian Northmen +were becoming the refined but ruthless Normans. Then, in England, he had wormed +himself into the confidence of the future king with singular astuteness, and at +length had found the occasion he had long sought, in a manner the most +unforeseen save as a possible contingency. +</p> + +<p> +And now he turned from the battlements to his own chamber, but on the way he +paused, for he passed the door of the late thane’s room, where poor +Elfric lay. He passed the sentinel and entered. The unhappy boy was extended on +the bed, in a raging fever; ever and anon he called piteously upon his father, +then he cried out that Dunstan was pursuing him, driving him into the pit, then +he cried—“Father, I did not murder thee; not I, thy son! nay, I +always loved thee in my heart. Who is laughing? it is not Dunstan; break his +chamber open, slay him: is a monk’s blood redder than a peasant’s? +O Elgiva hast thou slain my father? See, I am all on fire; it is thy doing. +Edwy, my king, Dunstan is burning me: save me!” +</p> + +<p> +Then there was a long pause, and Redwald or Ragnar as we may now call him stood +over his unhappy cousin. The fair head lay back on the pillow, with its +profusion of golden locks; the face was red and fiery, the eyes weak and +bloodshot. +</p> + +<p> +“Water! water! I burn!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +There was no cooling medicine to alleviate the burning throat, no gentle hand +to smooth the pillow, no mother to render the sweet offices of maternal love, +no father to whisper forgiveness to the dying boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Better he should die thus,” said Ragnar, “since I cannot +spare him without breaking my oath to the dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he left the room hastily, as if he feared his own resolution. The sentinel +looked imploringly at him, as the cries of the revellers came from below. +</p> + +<p> +“Go!” said Ragnar, “join thy companions; no sentinel is +required here. Go and feast; I will come and join you.” +</p> + +<p> +So he tried to drown his new-born pity in wine. +</p> + +<p> +At a late hour of the day, Alfred and his attendants arrived, bringing news of +the coming succour to Father Cuthbert and the other friends who awaited him +with much anxiety. They had contrived to account for his absence to the lady +Edith, from whom they thought it necessary to hide the true state of affairs. +</p> + +<p> +But everything tended to increase Alfred’s feverish anxiety about his +brother. The relieving force could not arrive for hours; meanwhile he knew not +what to do. No tidings were heard: Father Swithin had failed and Elfric might +perhaps even now be dead. +</p> + +<p> +So Alfred, taking counsel only of his own brave, loving heart, left the priory +in the dusk, attended by the faithful Oswy, and walked towards his former home. +The night was dark and cloudy, the moon had not yet arisen, and they were close +upon the hall ere they saw its form looming though the darkness. Neither spoke, +but they paused before the drawbridge and listened. +</p> + +<p> +Sounds of uproarious mirth arose from within; Danish war songs, shouting and +cheering; the whole body of the invaders were evidently feasting and revelling +with that excess, of which in their leisure moments they were so capable. +</p> + +<p> +“It is well!” said Alfred; and they walked round the exterior of +the moat, marking the brightly lighted hall and the unguarded look of the +place; yet not wholly unguarded, for they saw the figure of a man outlined +against a bright patch of sky, pacing the leaded roof, evidently on guard. +</p> + +<p> +And now they had reached that portion of their circuit which led them opposite +the chamber window of the lamented Ella, and Alfred gazed sadly upon it, when +both he and Oswy started as they heard cries and moans, and sometimes +articulate words, proceeding therefrom. +</p> + +<p> +They listened eagerly, and caught the name “Dunstan,” as if uttered +in vehement fear, then the cry. “Water! I burn!” and cry after cry, +as if from one in delirium. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Elfric! it is Elfric!” said Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“It is my young lord’s voice,” said the thrall; “he is +in a fever from his wound.” +</p> + +<p> +“What can we do?” and Alfred walked impatiently to and fro; at last +he stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy! if it costs me my life I will enter the castle!” +</p> + +<p> +“It shall cost my life too, then. I will live and die with my +lord!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come here, Oswy; they do not know the little postern door hidden behind +those bushes; the passage leads up to the chapel, and to the gallery leading to +my father’s chamber, where Elfric lies dying. I remember that that door +was left unlocked, and perhaps I can save him. They are all feasting like hogs; +they will not know, and if Ragnar meet me, why, he or I must die;” and he +put his hand convulsively upon the sword which was dependent from his girdle. +</p> + +<p> +“Lead on, my lord; you will find your thrall ready to live or die with +you!” said Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +At the extreme angle of the building there was a large quantity of holly bushes +which grew out of the soil between the moat and the wall, which itself was +clothed with the thickest ivy; the roof above was slanting—an ordinary +timber roof covering the chapel —so that no sentinel could be overhead. +Standing on the further side of the moat, all this and no more could be +observed. +</p> + +<p> +The first difficulty was how to cross the moat in the absence of either bridge +or boat. It was true they might swim over; but in the event of their succeeding +in the rescue of Elfric, how were they to bear him back? The difficulty had to +be overcome, and they reflected a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a small boat down at the ferry,” whispered Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +It was all Alfred needed, and he and Oswy at once started for the river. They +returned in a few minutes, bearing a light boat, almost like a British coracle, +on which they instantly embarked, and a push or two with the pole sent them +noiselessly across the moat. +</p> + +<p> +They landed, made fast the boat, and searched in the darkness for the door; it +was an old portal, almost disused, for it was only built that there might be a +retreat in any such pressing emergency as might easily arise in those unsettled +times; the holly bushes in front, and the thick branches of dependent ivy, +concealed its existence from any person beyond the moat, and it had not even +been seen by the watchful eye of Ragnar. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred, however, had but recently made use of the door, when seeking bunches of +holly wherewith to deck the board on the occasion of the feast given to King +Edwy, and he had omitted to relock it on his return, an omission which now +seemed to him of providential arrangement. +</p> + +<p> +He had, therefore, only to turn the rusty latch as noiselessly as might be, and +the door slowly opened. The key was in the lock, on the inside. +</p> + +<p> +Entering cautiously, taking off their heavy shoes and leaving them in the +doorway, they ascended a flight of steps which terminated in front of a door +which entered the chapel underneath the bell cot, while another flight led +upwards to the gallery, from which all the principal chambers on the first +floor opened. +</p> + +<p> +Arriving at this upper floor, Alfred listened intently for one moment, and +hearing only the sounds of revelry from beneath, he opened the door gently, and +saw the passage lie vacant before him. +</p> + +<p> +He passed along it until he came to the door of his father’s chamber, +feeling the whole time that his life hung on a mere thread, upon the chance +that Ragnar and his warriors might remain out of the way, and that no one might +be near to raise the alarm. With nearly two hundred inmates this was but a poor +chance, but Alfred could dare all for his brother. He committed himself, +therefore, to God’s protection, and went firmly on till he reached the +door. +</p> + +<p> +He opened it with trembling eagerness, and the whole scene as we have already +described it was before him. Elfric sat up in the bed, uttering the cries which +had pierced the outer air. When Alfred entered he did not seem to know him, but +saluted him as “Dunstan.” His cries had become too familiar to the +present inmates of the hall for this to attract attention. Alfred closed the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“It is I, Elfric!—I, your brother Alfred!” +</p> + +<p> +Elfric stared vacantly, then fell back on the pillow: a moment only passed, and +then it was evident that an interval of silence had begun, during which the +patient only moaned. The noise from those who were feasting in the hall +beneath, which communicated with the gallery by a large staircase, was loud and +boisterous as ever. +</p> + +<p> +A step was heard approaching. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred took Oswy by the arm, and they both retired behind the tapestry, which +concealed a small recess, where garments were usually suspended. +</p> + +<p> +The heavy step entered the room, and its owner was evidently standing beside +the bed gazing upon the couch. There he remained stationary for some minutes, +and again left the room. It was not till the last sound had died away that +Alfred and Oswy ventured to leave their concealment. +</p> + +<p> +The silence still continued, save that it was sometimes broken by the +patient’s moans. +</p> + +<p> +“Take and wrap these clothes round him; we must preserve him from the +night air;” and they wrapped the blankets around him; then Oswy, who was +very strongly built, took the light frame of Elfric in his arms, and they left +the room. +</p> + +<p> +One moment of dread suspense—the passage was clear—a minute more +would have placed them in safety, when the paroxysm returned upon the +unfortunate Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +“Help, Edwy! Redwald, help! Dunstan has seized me, and is bearing me to +the fire! I burn! help, I burn!” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred groaned in his agony; the shrieking voice had been uttered just as they +passed the staircase leading down to the hall. Up rushed Ragnar, followed by +several of his men, and started back in amazement as he beheld Alfred and Oswy +with their burden. Alfred drew his sword to dispute the passage, but was +overpowered in a moment. Ragnar himself attacked Oswy, who was forced to +relinquish his burden. All was lost. +</p> + +<p> +Another moment and Ragnar confronted his prisoners. Elfric had been carried +back to his bed. Alfred and Oswy stood before him, their arms bound behind +them, in the great hall, while the soldiers retired at a signal a short +distance from them. +</p> + +<p> +“What has brought you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“To deliver my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“To share his fate, you mean. Know you into whose hands you have +fallen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; into those of my cousin Ragnar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you know what mercy to expect.” +</p> + +<p> +“I came prepared to share my brother’s fate.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you shall share it. It must be the hand of fate which has placed you +both in my power, me, the representative of the rightful lord of Æscendune, +dispossessed by your father, and being myself the legitimate heir.” +</p> + +<p> +“We do not dispute your title; give my brother his life and liberty, and +take all; we have never injured you.” +</p> + +<p> +“All would be nothing without vengeance; you appeal in vain to me. Did I +wish to spare you I could not; an oath, a fearful oath, binds me, taken to one +from whom I derived life, one whose death was far more agonising and lingering +than yours shall be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us at least die together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you scorn the company of your thrall in death?” +</p> + +<p> +“God forbid! +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy, you have given your life for us; we die in company. God protect my +poor mother, my poor childless mother! She will be alone!” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall die together as you desire.” +</p> + +<p> +He addressed a few words in an unknown tongue to his men; his face was now pale +as death, his lips compressed as of one who has taken a desperate resolution. +</p> + +<p> +“Retire to your brother’s chamber again. You will not compel me to +use force?” +</p> + +<p> +They retired up the stairs; Ragnar followed, two or three of his men at a +respectful distance from him. +</p> + +<p> +They re-entered the chamber; Ragnar followed and stood before them. +</p> + +<p> +“I will grant you all that is in my power; you shall all die together, +and you may tend your brother to the last.” +</p> + +<p> +“What shall be the manner of our death?” asked Alfred, who was very +calm, fearfully calm. +</p> + +<p> +“You will soon discover; my hand shall not be upon you, or red with your +blood. Believe me, I am, like you, the victim of stern necessity, although I am +the avenger, you the victims.” +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot thus deceive yourself, or shake off the guilt of murder; our +father’s blood is upon you. You will answer for this, for him and for us, +at the judgment seat.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am willing to do so, if there be a judgment seat whereat to answer. I +had a father, too, who was condemned to a lingering death, by thirst, hunger, +and madness; I witnessed his agonies; I swore to avenge them. You appeal to the +memory of your father, who has perished a victim to avenging justice; I appeal +to that of mine. If there be a God, let Him deliver you, and perhaps I will +believe in Him. Farewell for ever!” +</p> + +<p> +He closed the door, and, with the aid of his men, securely fastened it on the +outside, so that no strength from within could open it; he descended to the +hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Warriors,” he said, “the moment I predicted has come; I have +received a warning that the usurper Edgar already marches against us; tomorrow, +at the latest, he will be here; before he arrives we shall be halfway to +Wessex. Let every one secure his baggage and his plunder, and let the horses be +all got ready for a forced march. We have eaten the last feast that shall ever +be eaten in these halls.” +</p> + +<p> +A few moments of bustle and confusion followed, and before half-an-hour had +expired all was ready, and the men-at-arms from without announced that every +horse—their own and those of the thane, to carry their booty, the plunder +of the castle—awaited them without. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said he, “listen, my men, to the final orders. +<i>Fire the castle, every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, the +outbuildings.</i> We will leave a pile of blackened embers for Edgar when he +comes; the halls where the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be his, or +entertain him as a guest.” +</p> + +<p> +A loud shout signified the alacrity with which his followers bent themselves to +the task; torches flashed in all directions, and in a few moments the flames +began to do their destroying work. +</p> + +<p> +An officer addressed Ragnar—“There are three thralls locked up in +an outbuilding, shall we leave them to burn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay; why should we grudge them their miserable lives; they have done us +no harm.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a loud cry of dire alarm was heard, the trampling of an immense +body of horse followed—a rush into the hall already filled with +smoke—loud outcries and shrieks from without. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” cried Ragnar. +</p> + +<p> +“The Mercians are upon us! the Mercians are upon us!” +</p> + +<p> +Ragnar rushed to the gateway, and a sight met his startled eyes he was little +prepared to behold. +</p> + +<p> +The clouds had been driven away by a fierce wind, the moon was shining +brightly, and revealed a mighty host surrounding the hall on every side. Every +horse before the gateway was driven away or seized, every man who had not saved +himself by instant retreat had been slain by the advancing host; without orders +the majority of his men had repassed the moat, and had already raised the +drawbridge against the foe, not without the greatest difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +“Extinguish the fires which you have raised; let each man fight +fire—then we will fight the Mercians.” +</p> + +<p> +It was high time to fight fire, rather it was too late. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.<br/> +“VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY.”</h2> + +<p> +When the door was finally closed upon the brothers and their faithful thrall, +Alfred did not give way to despair. The words of Ragnar, “If there be a +God, let Him deliver you,” had sunk deeply into his heart, and had +produced precisely the opposite effect to that which his cousin had intended; +it seemed as if his cause were thus committed to the great Being in Whose Hand +was the disposal of all things; as if His Honour were at stake, Whom the +murderer had so impiously defied. +</p> + +<p> +“‘If there be a God, let Him deliver you,’” repeated +Alfred, and it seemed to him as if a Voice replied, “Is My Arm shortened, +that It cannot save?” +</p> + +<p> +But how salvation was to come, and even in what mode danger was to be expected, +was unknown to them; nay, was even unguessed. They heard the bustle below, +which followed Ragnar’s announcement of his intended departure from +Æscendune. They heard the mustering of the horses—and at last the +conviction forced itself upon them that the foe were about to evacuate the +hall. But in that case, how would he inflict his sentence upon his victims? +</p> + +<p> +The dread truth, the suspicion of his real intention, crept upon the minds of +both Alfred and Oswy. Elfric yet lay insensible, or seemingly so, upon the bed, +lost to all perception of his danger. Alfred sat at the head of the bed, +looking with brotherly love at the prostrate form of him for whom he was giving +his life; but feeling secretly grateful that there was no painful struggle +imminent in his case; that death itself would come unperceived, without +torturing forebodings. +</p> + +<p> +It was at this moment that Oswy, who stood by the window, which was strongly +barred, but which he had opened, for the night was oppressively warm, caught +the faint and distant sound of a mighty host advancing through the forest; at +first it was very faint, and he only heard it through the pauses in the storm +of sound which attended Ragnar’s preparations for departure, but it soon +became more distinct, and he turned to Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, my lord, they come to our aid; listen, I hear the army of +Edgar.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred rushed to the window, the hope of life strong within him; at first he +could hear nothing for the noise below, but at length there was a lull in the +confusion, and then he heard distinctly the sound of the coming deliverers. +Another minute, and he saw the dark lines leaving the shadow of the forest, and +descending the hill in serried array, then deploying, as if to surround a foe +in stealthy silence; he looked around for the object, and beheld Ragnar’s +forces all unconscious of their danger, not having heard the approach in their +own hasty preparations for departure. Another moment of dread suspense, like +that with which the gazer watches the dark thundercloud before the +lightning’s flash. A moment of dread silence—during which some +orders, given loudly below, forced themselves upon him: +</p> + +<p> +“Fire the castle, every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, the +outbuildings; we will leave a pile of blackened ruins for Edgar when he comes; +the halls where the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be his, or entertain +him as guest.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the dark forces, unseen by the destroyers, were still surrounding +the castle, deploying on all sides to surround it as in a net; for they saw the +intention of their victims, and meant to cut off all chance of escape. +</p> + +<p> +But the position of the brothers seemed as perilous as ever—for how could +Edgar’s troops rescue them if the place were once on fire? Alfred gazed +with pallid face upon Oswy, but met only a resigned helpless glance in return. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, even at this moment of awful suspense, a voice seemed to whisper in his +ear, “Stand still, and see the salvation of God.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy,” he exclaimed, “we shall not die—I feel sure +that God will save us!” +</p> + +<p> +“It must be soon then,” replied Oswy; “soon, my lord, for +they have already set the place on fire, just beneath us; can you not smell the +smoke?” +</p> + +<p> +Just at that moment came the war cry of the Mercians, and the charge we have +already described. +</p> + +<p> +It was during the following few minutes, while Ragnar and all his men were +vainly striving to extinguish the conflagration they had raised—for the +dry timber of which the hall was chiefly built had taken fire like +matchwood—it was while the friends without were preparing to attack, that +a sudden change came over the patient. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred, my brother!” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred looked round in surprise; consciousness had returned, and the face was +calm and possessed as his own. +</p> + +<p> +“Elfric, my dear Elfric!” +</p> + +<p> +“What does all this mean? How came I here? What makes this smoke?” +</p> + +<p> +“We are in danger, great danger; prisoners in our own house, which they +have set on fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember now—is not this our dear father’s room?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; we are prisoners in it, they have barred the door upon us.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they cannot bar us in: there is another door, Alfred; one my father +once pointed out to me, but told me to keep its existence a secret, as it +always had been kept. Who are without?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Mercians, Edgar’s army, come to deliver us; if we can reach +them, we are safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought they were our foes, but all seems strange now. Alfred, lift up +the tapestry which conceals the recess where dear father’s armour +hung.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred complied. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, just where the breastplate hung you will find a round knob of wood +like a peg.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Push it hard—no, harder.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred did so, and a concealed door flew open; he stepped through it with a cry +of joy, and found himself on the staircase leading up from the postern gate by +which he had entered, just below the closed door which led into the gallery +above. +</p> + +<p> +“God be thanked! we are saved—saved. Elfric! +</p> + +<p> +“Oswy, take him in your arms, quick! quick! I lead the way, and will get +the boat ready—door open and boat ready.” +</p> + +<p> +It was all the work of a moment; they were on the private staircase, carrying +Elfric, carefully wrapt up. The smoke had entered even here; the next moment +they were at the entrance. Happily the whole attention of Ragnar was +concentrated on self preservation. +</p> + +<p> +One more minute, and Elfric was placed in the coracle. The Mercians on the +further bank now observed them, and at first, not knowing them, seemed disposed +to treat them as foes; when Oswy cried aloud, “Spare your arrows; it is +Elfric of Æscendune;” and they crowded to the bank joyfully, for the +purpose of the attack was known to all, and now they saw its object placed +beyond the reach of further risk of failure. +</p> + +<p> +The coracle touched the further bank; a dozen willing hands assisted them up +the slope. And amidst shouts of vociferous joy and triumph they were conducted +to King Edgar, who hastened towards the scene with Siward. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, let the castle burn, let it burn,” said Oswy. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred, is it you?” exclaimed the young king; “just escaped +from the flames! How came you there? and this is Elfric; you have saved +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“God has delivered us.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have been the instrument; you must tell me all another time, get +him into shelter quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, men, bear him to the priory, while we stay to do our duty here. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred, you must not linger.” +</p> + +<p> +“One favour, my lord and king; show mercy to Ragnar, to Redwald, you know +not how sad his story has been.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave that to me; he shall have all he deserves;” and Alfred was +forced to be content. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, aroused by the shouts of joy, Ragnar, forgetting even his +danger, rushed to the roof. There he saw a crowd surrounding some object of +their joy; in the darkness of the night he could not distinguish more, but the +cry, “Long live Alfred of Æscendune!” arose spontaneously from the +crowd, just as the brothers departed. Faint with toil as he was, his heart +beating wildly with apprehension, he rushed to the chamber through smoke and +flame, for the tongues of fire were already licking the staircase. He withdrew +the bars, he rushed in, the room was empty. +</p> + +<p> +“It is magic, sorcery, witchcraft,” he groaned. +</p> + +<p> +But the remembrance of his last words, of his scornful defiance of God, came +back to him, and with it a conviction that he had indeed lifted up his arm +against the Holy One. He felt a sickening feeling of horror and despair rush +upon him, when loud cries calling him from beneath aroused him. +</p> + +<p> +“We must charge through them; we cannot burn here; we must die fighting +sword in hand, it is all that is left.” +</p> + +<p> +Not one voice spoke of surrender amongst those fierce warriors, or of seeking +mercy. +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed high time, for all efforts to extinguish the flames had proved +vain; every part of the castle was on fire; the fiery element streamed from the +lower windows, and curled upwards around the towers; it crackled and hissed in +its fury, and the atmosphere became unfit to breathe; it was like inhaling +flame. Sparks flew about in all directions, dense stifling smoke filled every +room. Not a man remained in the hall, when Redwald rushed down the gallery, +holding his breath, for the hot air scorched the lungs; when, just as he +arrived, the staircase fell with a huge crash, and the flames shot up in his +face, igniting hair and beard, and scorching his flesh. He rushed back to the +opposite end of the passage, only to meet another blast of fire and +smoke—for they had ignited the hall in twenty places at once; they had +done their work all too well. He rushed to the room he had left, shut the door +for a moment’s respite from flame and smoke, and then, springing at the +window, strove to tear the bars down, but all in vain. +</p> + +<p> +“There must be some egress. How did they escape? How could they +escape?” he cried; and he sought in vain for the exit, for they had +closed the door again, and he knew not where to look; in vain he lifted the +tapestry, he could not discover the secret; and at last, overpowered by the +heat, he sprang again to the window, and drank in deep draughts of fresh cool +air to appease the burning feeling in his throat. +</p> + +<p> +Crash! crash! part of the roof had given way, and the whole chamber trembled; +then a single tongue of flame shot up through the floor, then another; the door +had caught outside. Even in that moment he beheld his men, his faithful +followers, madly seeking death from the swords of the foe; they had lowered the +drawbridge, and dashed out without a leader. +</p> + +<p> +“Would I were with them!” he cried. “Oh, to die like +this!” +</p> + +<p> +“Behold,” cried a voice without, “he hath digged and graven a +pit, and is fallen himself into the destruction he made for others.” +</p> + +<p> +It was Father Swithin, who had observed the face at the window, and who raised +the cry which now drew all the enemy to gaze upon him, for they had no longer a +foe to destroy. +</p> + +<p> +The flames now filled the room, but still he clung to the window, and thus +protracted his torments; his foes, even the stern monk, could but pity him now, +so marred and blackened was his visage, so agonised his lineaments; like, as +they said, the rude pictures of the lost, where the last judgment was painted +on the walls of the churches. Yet he uttered no cry, he had resolved to die +bravely; all was lost now. Another moment, and those who watched saw the huge +beams which supported the building bend and quiver; then the whole framework +collapsed, and with a sound like thunder the roof tumbled in, and the unhappy +Ragnar was buried in the ruin; while the flames from his funeral pyre rose to +the very heavens, and the smoke blotted the stars from view. +</p> + +<p> +“Even so,” said the monk, solemnly, “let Thine enemies +perish, O Lord, but let them that love Thee be as the sun, when he goeth forth +in his might.” +</p> + +<p> +But those were not wanting who could not sympathise with the stern sentiment, +remembering better and gentler lessons from the lips of the great Teacher and +Master of souls. +</p> + +<p> +“He has passed into the Hands of his God, there let us leave him,” +said Father Cuthbert, who had just arrived at the moment. “It is not for +us to judge a soul which has passed to the judgment seat, and is beyond the +sentence of men.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, they had borne Elfric first to the priory, for they judged it not +well that he should yet be brought to his mother; they feared the sudden shock. +Many of the good monks had studied medicine, for they were in fact the healers +both of soul and body throughout the district, and they attended him with +assiduous care. They put him to bed, they gave him cordials which soon produced +quiet sleep, and watched by him for many hours. +</p> + +<p> +It was not till the day had far advanced that he awoke, greatly refreshed, and +saw Father Cuthbert and Alfred standing by him. They had allayed the fever, +bound up the wound, which was not in itself dangerous, and he looked more like +himself than one could have imagined possible. +</p> + +<p> +And now they thought they might venture to summon the lady Edith; and Alfred +broke the intelligence to her, for she knew not the events of the night. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother,” he said; “we have news of Elfric, both bad and +good, to tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“He lives then,” she said; “he lives!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, lives, and is near; but he was wounded badly in the battle.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must go to him,” she said, and arose, forgetting all possible +obstacles in a mother’s love. +</p> + +<p> +“He is near at hand, in the priory; you will find him much changed, but +they say he will do well.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook like an aspen leaf, and threw her garments around her with nervous +earnestness. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, mother, take my arm.” +</p> + +<p> +“O Alfred, may I not come, too?” said little Edgitha. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you may come too;” and they left the house. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric heard them approach, and sat up in his bed, Father Cuthbert supporting +him with his arm; while another visitor, Edgar himself, stood at the head of +the bed, but retired to give place to the mother, as if he felt no stranger +could then intrude, when the widow clasped her prodigal to her loving breast. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.<br/> +SOW THE WIND, AND REAP THE WHIRLWIND.</h2> + +<p> +When Alfred rebuilt the city of Winchester, after it had been burned by the +Danes, he erected a royal palace, which became a favourite retreat of his +successors. +</p> + +<p> +Here the unhappy Edwy retired after his defeat, to find consolation in the +company of Elgiva. Indeed he needed it. Northumbria had followed the example of +Mercia, and acknowledged Edgar, and he had no dominions left north of the +Thames, while it was rumoured that worse news might follow. +</p> + +<p> +In an inner chamber of the palace, and remote from intrusion, sat the king and +his chosen advisers. It was early in the year 958, a spring day when the sun +shone brightly and all things spoke of the coming summer—the songs of the +birds, the opening buds, the blossoming orchards. +</p> + +<p> +But peace was banished from those who sat in that council chamber. Edwy was +strangely disturbed, his face was flushed, and he bore evidence of the most +violent agitation. +</p> + +<p> +“It must come to that at last, my king,” exclaimed Cynewulf, +“or Wessex will follow the example of Mercia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better lose my crown then and become a subject, with a subject’s +liberty to love.” +</p> + +<p> +“A subject could never marry within the prohibited degree,” said a +grey-headed counsellor. +</p> + +<p> +“We have messengers from all parts of Wessex, from Kent, from Essex, from +Sussex, and they all unite in their demand that you should submit to the +Church, and put away (forgive me for repeating their words) your +concubine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Concubine!” said Edwy, and his cheek flushed, “she is my +wife and your queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, my liege, I did not make the word my own.” +</p> + +<p> +“You should not have dared to repeat it.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I dare, my lord, it is for your sake, and for our country, which is +dear to us all. Not an Englishman will acknowledge that your connection is +lawful; from Exeter to Canterbury the cry is the same—‘Let him +renounce Elgiva, and we will obey him; but we will not serve a king who does +not obey the voice of the Church or the laws of the land.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Laws of the land! The king is above the laws.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, my lord, he is bound to set the first example of obedience, chief +in that as in all things; an example to his people. Remember, my lord, your +coronation oath taken at Kingston three years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +Edwy flushed. “Is this a subject’s language?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the language of one who loves his king too well to flatter +him.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment an usher of the court knocked at the door, and obtaining +permission to enter, stated that Archbishop Odo had arrived, and demanded +admission to the council. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not see him,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“My liege,” exclaimed Athelwold, the old grey-headed counsellor we +have mentioned, “permit one who loves you, as he loved your revered +father, to entreat you to cease from this hopeless resistance. If you refuse to +see him you are no longer a king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will gladly abdicate.” +</p> + +<p> +“And become the scorn of Dunstan, and receive a retiring pension from +Edgar, and put your hand between his, kneeling humbly and saying ‘I am +your man.’” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no. Anything rather than that. Death first.” +</p> + +<p> +“All this may be averted with timely submission. Elgiva herself would not +counsel you to sacrifice all for her.” +</p> + +<p> +“O Athelwold, my father, the only one of my father’s counsellors +who has been faithful to his firstborn, what can I do? She is dearer to me than +life.” +</p> + +<p> +“But not than honour. You have both erred, both disobeyed the law of the +Church, both forgotten the example due from those in high places.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell Odo to enter,” exclaimed Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +The archbishop was close at hand, patiently awaiting the answer to his demand, +yet determined, in case of a refusal, to take his pastoral staff in his hand +and enter the council room, announced or not. A more determined priest had +never occupied the primacy, yet he was benevolent as determined, and, as we +have mentioned, was known as Odo the Good amongst the poor. Stern and +unyielding to the vices of the rich, he was gentle as a parent to the repentant +sinner. +</p> + +<p> +He had pronounced, as we have seen, the lesser excommunication,<a +href="#EndNoteB9sym" name="EndNoteB9anc"><sup>xxxi</sup></a> in consequence of +Edwy’s refusal to put away Elgiva, immediately after the coronation; +since which the guilty pair had never communicated at the altar, or even +attended mass. Their lives had been practically irreligious, nay idolatrous, +for they had been gods to each other. +</p> + +<p> +And now, in the full pomp of the archiepiscopal attire, with the mitre of St. +Augustine on his head and the crozier in his hand, Odo advanced, like one who +felt his divine mission, to the centre of the room. His cross bearer and other +attendants remained in the antechamber. +</p> + +<p> +“What dost thou seek, rude priest?” said Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“I am come in the Name of Him Whose laws thou hast broken, and speak to +thee as the Baptist to Herod. Put away this woman, for it is not lawful for +thee to have her.” +</p> + +<p> +“And would I could reply to thee as the holy fox Dunstan once informed me +Herod replied to the insolent Baptist, and send thine head on a charger to +Elgiva.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord! my liege! my king! Remember his sacred office,” +remonstrated the counsellors. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace, my lords. His threats or his blandishments would alike fail to +move me. The blood of Englishmen slain in civil war—if indeed any are +found to fight for an excommunicate king—is that which I seek to avert. +</p> + +<p> +“In the Name of my Master, Whom thou hast defied, O king, I offer thee +thy choice. Thou must put away thy concubine, or thou shalt sustain the greater +excommunication, when it will become unlawful for Christian people even to +speak with thee, or wish thee God speed, lest they be partakers of thy evil +deeds.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, you must yield,” whispered Cynewulf. +</p> + +<p> +“Son of the noble Edmund, thou must save thy father’s name from +disgrace.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot, will not, do Elgiva this foul wrong. I tell thee, priest, that +if thy benediction has never been pronounced upon our union, we are man and +wife before heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +“I await your answer,” said Odo. “Am I to understand you +choose the fearful penalty of excommunication?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay! nay! he does not; he cannot,” cried the counsellors. +“Your holiness!—father!—in the king’s name we +yield!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are all cowards and traitors! Let him do what he will, I cannot +yield.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, my lord king, I must proceed,” said Odo. “You have not +only acted wickedly in this matter, but you have misgoverned the people +committed to your charge, and broken every clause of your coronation oath. +First, you have not given the Church of God peace, or preserved her from +molestation, but have yourself ravaged her lands, and even slain her servants +with the sword; one, specially honoured of God, you sought to slay, sending +that wicked man, who has been called by fire to his judgment, to execute your +impious will.” +</p> + +<p> +“That holy fox Dunstan! Would Redwald had slain him!” muttered +Edwy. +</p> + +<p> +“Secondly,” continued Odo, not heeding the interruption, “so +far from preventing thefts and fraud in all manner of men, you have maintained +notorious oppressors amongst your officers, and in your own person you have +broken the oath; for did you not even rob your aged grandmother, and consume +her substance in riotous living?” +</p> + +<p> +“What could the old woman do with it all?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thirdly, you have not maintained justice in your judicial proceedings, +but have spent all your time, like Rehoboam of old, with the young and giddy, +and in chastising your people with scorpions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would I had a scorpion to chastise you! This is unbearable. +</p> + +<p> +“My lords and counsellors, have you not a word to say for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said Athelwold, “it is all too true; but give up +Elgiva now, and all will be well!” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be at least the beginning of reformation,” said Odo. +</p> + +<p> +“And the end, I suppose,” said Edwy, “will be that I shall +shave my head like a monk, banquet sumptuously upon herbs and water, spend +three-fourths of the day singing psalms through my nose, wear a hair shirt, +look as starved as a weasel, and at last, after sundry combats with the devil, +pinch his nose, and go off to heaven in all the odour of sanctity. Go and +preach all this to Edgar; I am not fool enough to listen to it. You have got +him to be your obedient slave and vassal; you have bought him, body and soul, +and the price has been Mercia, and now you want to add Wessex. Well, I wish you +joy of him, and him of you all; for my part, if I could do it, I would restore +the worship of Odin and Thor, and offer you priests as bloody sacrifices to +him: I would!” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace, my lord and king! peace! this is horrible,” said Athelwold. +</p> + +<p> +“Horrible!” said another. “He is possessed. My lord Odo, you +had better exorcise him.” +</p> + +<p> +But Edwy had given way—he was young—and burst into a passionate fit +of weeping, his royal dignity all forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +“Give him time! give him time, father!” said they all. +</p> + +<p> +“One day; he must then submit, or I must do my duty; I have no +choice—none,” replied the archbishop. +</p> + +<p> +And the council sadly broke up; but Athelwold sought a private interview with +Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +It was the evening of the same day, and the fair Elgiva sat alone in her +apartment, into which the westering sun was casting his last beams of liquid +light; tears had stained her cheeks and reddened her eyes, but she looked +beautiful as ever, like the poet’s or painter’s conception of the +goddess of love. Around her were numerous evidences of a woman’s delicate +tastes, of tastes too in advance of her day. The harp, which Edwy had given her +the day of their inauspicious union, stood in one corner of the apartment; +richly ornamented manuscripts lay scattered about—not, as usual, legends +of the saints, and breviaries, but the writings of the heathen poets, +especially those who sang most of love: for she was learned in such lore. +</p> + +<p> +At last the well-known step was heard approaching, and her heart beat +violently. Edwy entered, his face bearing the traces of his mental struggle; he +threw himself down upon a couch, and did not speak for some few moments. She +arose and stood beside him. +</p> + +<p> +“Edwy, my lord, you are ill at ease.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am indeed, Elgiva; oh! if you knew what I have had to endure this +day!” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it all, my Edwy; you cannot sacrifice your Elgiva, but she can +sacrifice herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Elgiva! what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have to choose between your country and your wife; she has made the +choice for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Here she strove violently to repress her emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“Elgiva! you shall never go—never, never—it will break my +heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will break mine; but better hearts should break than that civil war +should desolate our country, or that you should be dethroned.” +</p> + +<p> +“No more of this, Elgiva; you shall not go, I swear it! come weal or woe. +Are we not man and wife? Have we not ever been faithful to each other?” +</p> + +<p> +“But this dreadful Church, my Edwy, which crushes men’s affections +and rules their intellects with a giant’s strength more fearful than the +fabled hammer of Thor. It crushed the sweet mythology of old, with all that +ministered to love, and substituted the shaveling, the nun, the monk; it has no +sympathy with poor hearts like ours; it is remorseless, as though it never knew +pity or fear. You must yield, my Edwy! we must yield!” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot,” he said; “we will fly the throne together.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where would you go? this Church is everywhere; who would receive an +excommunicate man?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot help it, Elgiva; say no more, it maddens me. Talk of our early +days, before this dark shadow fell upon us.” +</p> + +<p> +She took up her harp, as if, like David, she could thereby soothe the perturbed +spirit; but its sweet sounds woke no answer in his breast, and so the night +came upon them—night upon the earth, night upon their souls. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the morning she rose, strong in a woman’s affection, while Edwy +yet slept, and hastily arrayed herself; she looked around at her poor household +gods, at the harp, at the many tokens of his love. +</p> + +<p> +“It is for him!” she said. She imprinted her last kiss on his +sleeping forehead, she gazed upon him with fond, fond love; love had been her +all, her heaven: and then she opened the door noiselessly. +</p> + +<p> +Athelwold waited without. +</p> + +<p> +“Well done, noble girl!” he said; “thou keepest thy word +right faithfully.” +</p> + +<p> +She strove to speak, but could not; her pale bloodless lips would not frame the +words. Silently they descended the stairs; the dawn reddened the sky; a horse +with a lady’s equipments waited without, and a guide. +</p> + +<p> +The old thane slipped a purse of gold into her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“You will need it,” he said. “Where are you going? you have +not told us.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is better none should know,” she said; “I will decide my +route when without the city.” +</p> + +<p> +They never heard of her again.<a href="#EndNoteB10sym" +name="EndNoteB10anc"><sup>xxxii</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +When Edwy awoke and found her gone he was at first frantic, and sent messengers +in all directions to bring her back; but when one after another came back +unsuccessful, he accepted the heroic sacrifice and submitted. +</p> + +<p> +Wessex, therefore, remained faithful to him, at least for a time, but Mercia +was utterly lost; and Edgar was recognised as the lawful king north of the +Thames, by all parties; friends and foes, even by Edwy himself. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.<br/> +“FOR EVER WITH THE LORD.”</h2> + +<p> +Many months had passed away since the destruction of the hall of Æscendune and +the death of the unhappy Ragnar, and the spring of 958 had well-nigh ended. +During the interval, a long and hard winter had grievously tried the shattered +constitution of Elfric. He had recovered from the fever and the effects of his +wound in a few weeks, yet only partially recovered, for the severe shock had +permanently injured his once strong health, and ominous symptoms showed +themselves early in the winter. His breathing became oppressed, he complained +of pains in the chest, and seemed to suffer after any exertion. +</p> + +<p> +These symptoms continued to increase in gravity, until his friends were +reluctantly compelled to recognise the symptoms of that insidious disease, so +often fatal in our English climate, which we now call consumption. +</p> + +<p> +It was long before they would admit as much; but when they saw how acutely he +suffered in the cold frosts; how he, who had once been foremost in every manly +exercise, was compelled to forego the hunt, and to allow his brother to +traverse the woods and enjoy the pleasures of the chase without him; how he +sought the fireside and shivered at the least draught; how a dry painful cough +continually shook his frame, they could no longer disguise the fact that his +days on earth might be very soon ended. +</p> + +<p> +There was one fact which astonished them. Although he had returned with avidity +to all the devotional habits in which he had been trained, yet he always +expressed himself unfit to receive the Holy Communion, and delayed to make that +formal confession of his sins, which the religious habits of the age imposed on +every penitent. +</p> + +<p> +Once or twice his fond mother, anxious for his spiritual welfare, pressed this +duty upon him; and Alfred, whom he loved, as well he might, most dearly, urged +the same thing, yet he always evaded the subject, or, when pressed, replied +that he fully meant to do so; in short, it was a matter of daily preparation, +but he could not come to be shriven yet. +</p> + +<p> +When the winter at last yielded, and the bright spring sun spoke of the +resurrection, when Lent was over, they hoped at least to see him make his +Easter communion, and their evident anxiety upon the subject at last brought +from him the avowal of the motives which actuated his conduct. +</p> + +<p> +It was Easter Eve, and Alfred had enticed him out to enjoy the balmy air of a +bright April afternoon. Close by the path they took, the hall was rapidly +rising to more than its former beauty, for not only had the theows and ceorls +all shown great alacrity in the work, but all the neighbouring thanes had lent +their aid. +</p> + +<p> +“It will be more beautiful than ever,” said Alfred, “but not +quite so homelike. Still, when you come of age, Elfric, it will be a happy home +for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will never be my home, Alfred.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must not speak so despondently. The bright springtide will soon +restore all your former health and vigour.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Alfred, no; the only home I look for is one where my poor shattered +frame will indeed recover its vigour, but it will not be the vigour or beauty +of this world. Do you remember the lines Father Cuthbert taught us the other +night? +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“‘Oh, how glorious and resplendent,<br/> + Fragile body, shalt thou be,<br/> +When endued with so much beauty,<br/> + Full of health, and strong and free,<br/> +Full of vigour, full of pleasure.<br/> + That shall last eternally.’ +</p> + +<p> +“It will not be of earth, though, my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred was silent; his emotions threatened to overcome him. He could not bear +to think that he should lose Elfric, although the conviction was gradually +forcing itself upon them all. +</p> + +<p> +“Alfred,” continued the patient, “it is of no use deceiving +ourselves. I have often thought it hard to leave this beautiful world, for it +is beautiful after all, and to leave you who have almost given your life for +me, and dear mother, little Edgitha, and Father Cuthbert; but God’s Will +must be done, and what He wills must be best for us. No; this bright Easter +tide is the last I shall see on earth; but did not Father Cuthbert say that +heaven is an eternal Easter?” +</p> + +<p> +So the repentant prodigal spoke, according to the lessons the Church had taught +him. Superstitious in many points that Church of our forefathers may have been, +yet how much living faith had its home therein will never be fully known till +the judgment. +</p> + +<p> +“And when I look at that castle,” Elfric continued, “our own +hall of Æscendune, rising from its ashes, I picture to myself how you will +marry some day and be happy there; how our dear mother will see your children +growing up around her knee, and teach them as she taught you and me; how, +perhaps, you will name one after me, and there shall be another Elfric, gay and +happy as the old one, but, I hope, ten times as good; and you will not let him +go to court, I am sure, Alfred.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred did not answer; he could not command his composure. +</p> + +<p> +“And when you all come to the priory church on Sundays, and Father +Cuthbert, or whoever shall come after him, sings the mass, you will remember me +and breathe my name in your prayers when they say the memento for the faithful +dead; and again, there shall be little children learning their paters and their +sweet little prayers, as you and I learned them at our mother’s knee: and +you will show them my tomb, where I shall rest with dear father, and perhaps my +story may be a warning to them. But you must never forget to show them how +brotherly love was stronger than death when the old hall was burnt. +</p> + +<p> +“After all,” he continued, “our separation won’t be +long, the longest day comes to an end, and a thousand years are with Him as one +day. We shall all be united at last—father, mother, Alfred, Edgitha, +Elfric. Do you not hear the Easter bells?” +</p> + +<p> +They retraced their steps to the priory church for the services of Easter Eve. +</p> + +<p> +“And one thing more, dear Alfred; you think me a strange penitent, that I +am long, very long, before I make my confession. You do not know how I sigh for +Communion; it is three years since I communicated, nearly four. But, Alfred, +there is one who tried to stop me when I began going downward, downward, and I +feel as if I must have his forgiveness before I can communicate, and it is to +him I want to make my last confession. You know whom I mean; he is in England +now and near.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now you know my secret, let us go into church.” +</p> + +<p> +Oh, how sweetly those Easter psalms and lessons spoke to Alfred and Elfric that +night; how sweetly the tidings of a risen Saviour sounded in their ears. Easter +joy was joy indeed. The very heavens seemed brighter that night, the +moon—the Paschal moon—seemed to gladden the earth and render it a +Paradise, like that happy Eden of old times, before sin entered its holy +seclusion. +</p> + +<p> +Easter tide was over, and Ascension drew near, but the sweet month of May had +done little to restore health to poor Elfric. He had scarcely ever had a day +free from pain. His eye was brighter than ever, but his attenuated face told a +sad tale of the decay of the vital power. +</p> + +<p> +From the time that Alfred knew how his brother yearned for Dunstan’s +forgiveness, and that he would be shriven by none but him, he had sought to +accomplish his wish. He heard that Dunstan had returned from abroad, and was +about to be consecrated Bishop of Worcester, and to be their own diocesan, and +he sought an early opportunity of seeing him. +</p> + +<p> +At last, but not until after Dunstan’s consecration, he gained the +opportunity, not without much delay; for Dunstan was sometimes in Worcester, +sometimes in London, which had thrown off Edwy’s authority, and +submitted, with all Essex, to Edgar; sometimes ordaining, sometimes confirming, +sometimes assisting Edgar in the government; and he was, like all other great +men, very inaccessible. +</p> + +<p> +At last Alfred learned that he would be in Worcester by a certain day, and he +started at once for that city. He arrived there after a tedious journey; the +roads were very difficult, and when he reached the city he heard the cathedral +bells, and went at once to the high mass, for it was a festival. There he saw +Dunstan as he had seen him before at Glastonbury, at the altar, amidst all the +solemn pomp in which our ancestors robed the sacred office. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately after the service he repaired to the palace, and put in his name. +Numbers, like himself, were awaiting an audience, but only a few minutes had +passed ere an usher came into the antechamber and informed him that Dunstan +requested his immediate presence. +</p> + +<p> +He followed the usher amidst the envy of many who had the prospect of a long +detention ere they could obtain the same favour, and soon he had clasped +Dunstan’s hand and knelt for his blessing. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay! rise up, my son, it is thine: <i>Deus benedicat et custodiat te, in +omnibus viis tuis</i>. Thinkest thou, my son, thy name has been forgotten in my +poor prayers? God made thee His instrument, but thou wast a very very willing +one; and now, my son, wherein can I serve thee? Thou hast but to speak.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus encouraged, Alfred told all his tale, and Dunstan listened with much +emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet two days and I will be with you at Æscendune. Go back and comfort +thy brother; he shall indeed have my forgiveness, and happy shall I be as an +ambassador of Christ to fulfil the blessed office of restoring the lost sheep +to the fold, the prodigal to his Heavenly Father.” +</p> + +<p> +When Alfred returned to Æscendune he found Elfric eagerly awaiting him; he had +not been so well in the absence of his brother, and every one saw symptoms of +the coming end. +</p> + +<p> +Still he seemed so happy when Alfred delivered his message that every one +remarked it, and that evening he sat up later than usual, listening as Father +Cuthbert read for the hundredth time his favourite story from King +Alfred’s Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels, the parable of the prodigal +son, which had filled his mind on the night after the battle; then he spoke to +his mother about past days, before a cloud came between him and his home; and +talked of his father, and of the little incidents of early youth. Always +loving, he was more so than usual that night, as if he felt time was short in +which to show a son’s love. +</p> + +<p> +That night his mother came, as she always came, when he was asleep, to his +chamber to gaze upon him, when she was struck by the difficulty of his +breathing; she felt alarmed when she saw the struggles he seemed to make for +breath, and saw the damp sweat upon his brow, so she called Alfred. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred saw at once that his brother was seriously worse, and summoned Father +Cuthbert, who no sooner gazed upon him than he exclaimed that the end was near. +</p> + +<p> +During all that night he breathed heavily and with difficulty, as if each +breath would be the last. Towards morning, however, he rallied, and immediate +danger seemed gone, although only for a short time. +</p> + +<p> +He sat up for the last time that day. It was a lovely day in May, and in the +heat of the day he seemed to drink in the sweet atmosphere, as it came gently +through the open window, laden with the scents of a hundred flowers. Often his +lips moved as if in prayer, and sometimes he spoke to his brother, and asked +when Dunstan would come; but he was not equal to prolonged conversation. +</p> + +<p> +At length one of the ceorls came riding in to say that the Bishop, with his +retinue, was approaching the village, and Father Cuthbert went out to meet him. +The impatient anxiety of poor Elfric became painful to witness. +</p> + +<p> +“He is coming, Elfric! he is coming!” said Alfred from the window. +“I see him near; see! he stops to salute Father Cuthbert, whom he knew +years ago; I must go down to receive him. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother! You stay with Elfric.” +</p> + +<p> +A sound as of many feet; another moment, a firm step was heard upon the stairs, +and Dunstan entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +He advanced to the bed, while all present stood in reverent silence, and gazed +upon the patient with a look of such affection as a father might bestow upon a +dying son as he took the weak nerveless hand. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric looked round with a mute appeal which they all comprehended, and left +him alone with Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +“Father, pardon me!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou askest pardon of me, my son—of me, a sinner like thyself; I +cannot tell thee how freely I give it thee; and now, my son, unburden thyself +before thy God, for never was it known that one pleaded to Him and was cast +out.” +</p> + +<p> +When, after an interval, Dunstan summoned the lady Edith and Alfred back into +the room, a look of such calm, placid composure, such satisfied happiness, sat +upon his worn face, that they never forgot it. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely,” thought they, “such is the expression the blessed +will wear in heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +And then, in their presence, Dunstan administered the Blessed Sacrament of the +Body and Blood of Christ to the happy penitent; it was the first Communion +which he had willingly made since he first left home, a bright happy boy of +fifteen; and words would fail to describe the deep faith and loving penitence +with which he gathered his dying strength to receive the Holy Mysteries. +</p> + +<p> +And then Dunstan administered the last of all earthly rites—the holy +anointing;<a href="#EndNoteB11sym" name="EndNoteB11anc"><sup>xxxiii</sup></a> +while amidst their tears the mourners yet thought of Him Who vouchsafed to be +anointed before He sanctified the grave to be a bed of hope to His people. +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou happy now, my son?” said Dunstan, when all was over. +</p> + +<p> +“Happy indeed! happy! yes, so happy!” +</p> + +<p> +They were almost the last words he said, until an hour had passed and the sun +had set, leaving the bright clouds suffused in rich purple, when he sat up in +the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother! Alfred!” he said, “do you hear that music? Many are +singing; surely that was father’s voice. Oh! how bright!” +</p> + +<p> +He fell back, and Dunstan began the solemn commendatory prayer, for he saw the +last moment was come. +</p> + +<p> +“Go forth, O Christian soul, from this world, in the name of God the +Father Who hath created thee, of God the Son Who hath redeemed thee, of God the +Holy Ghost Who hath been poured out upon thee; and may thy abode be this day in +peace, in the heavenly Sion, through Jesus Christ thy Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +It was over! Over that brief but eventful life! Over all the bright hopes which +had centred on him in this world; but the battle was won, and the eternal +victory gained. +</p> + +<p> +We have little more to add to our tale; the remainder is matter of history. The +real fate of the unhappy Elgiva is not known, for the legend which represents +her as suffering a violent death at the hands of the partisans of Edgar or Odo +rests upon no solid foundation, but is repugnant to actual facts of history. +Let us hope that she found the only real consolation in that religion she had +hitherto, unhappily, despised, but which may perhaps have come to her aid in +adversity. +</p> + +<p> +The unhappy Edwy sank from bad to worse. When Elgiva was gone he seemed to have +nothing to live for; he yielded himself up to riotous living to drown care, +while his government became worse and worse. Alas, he never repented, so far as +we can learn, and the following year he died at Gloucester—some said of a +broken heart, others of a broken constitution—in the twentieth year only +of his age. +</p> + +<p> +Poor unhappy Edwy the Fair! Yet he had been his own worst enemy. Well has it +been written: +</p> + +<p> +“Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, +and in the sight of thine eyes; but know thou that for all these things God +will bring thee into judgment.” +</p> + +<p> +Edgar succeeded to the throne, and all England acknowledged him as lord; while +under Dunstan’s wise administration the land enjoyed peace and plenty +unexampled in Anglo-Saxon annals. Such was Edgar’s power, that more than +three thousand vessels kept the coast in safety, and eight tributary kings did +him homage. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred became in due course Thane of Æscendune, and his widowed mother lived +to rejoice in his filial care many a long year, while the dependants and serfs +blessed his name as they had once blessed that of his father. +</p> + +<p> +“The boy is the father of the man” it has been well said, and it +was not less true than usual in this case. A bright pure boyhood ushered in a +manhood of healthful vigour and bright intellect. +</p> + +<p> +Children grew up around him after his happy marriage with Alftrude, the +daughter of the thane of Rollrich. The eldest boy was named Elfric, and was +bright and brave as the Elfric of old. Need we say he never went to court, +although Edgar would willingly have numbered him in the royal household. Truly, +indeed, were fulfilled the words which the Elfric of old had spoken on that +Easter eve. To his namesake, and to all that younger generation, the memory of +the uncle they had never seen was surrounded by a mysterious halo of light and +love; and when they said their prayers around his tomb, it seemed as if he were +still one of themselves—sharing their earthly joys and sorrows. +</p> + +<p> +And here we must leave them—time passing sweetly on, the current of their +lives flowing softly and gently to the mighty ocean of eternity: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Where the faded flower shall freshen,<br/> + Freshen never more to fade;<br/> +Where the shaded sky shall brighten,<br/> + Brighten never more to shade.”<br/> + <i>Bonar</i>. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +THE END. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Footnotes</h2> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA1anc" name="EndNoteA1sym">i</a> For authorities for his +various statements the Author must beg to refer his readers to the notes at the +end of the volume. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA2anc" name="EndNoteA2sym">ii</a> Homilies in the Anglo-Saxon +Church +</p> + +<p> +“The mass priest, on Sundays and mass days, shall speak the sense of the +Gospel to the people in English, and of the Paternoster, and of the Creed, as +often as he can, for the inciting of the people to know their belief, and to +retain their Christianity. Let the teacher take heed of what the prophet says, +‘They are dumb dogs, and cannot bark.’ We ought to bark and preach +to laymen, lest they should be lost through ignorance. Christ in His gospel +says of unlearned teachers, ‘If the blind lead the blind, they both fall +into the ditch.’ The teacher is blind that hath no book learning, and he +misleads the laity through his ignorance. Thus are you to be aware of this, as +your duty requires.”—23d Canon of Elfric, about A.D. 957. +</p> + +<p> +Elfric was then only a private monk in the abbey of Ahingdon, and perhaps +composed these canons for the use of Wulfstan, Bishop of Dorchester, with the +assistance of the abbot, Ethelwold. They commence “Ælfricus, humilis +frater, venerabili Episcopo Wulfsino, salutem in Domino.” Others think +this “Wulfsinus” was the Bishop of Sherborne of that name. Elfric +became eventually Archbishop of Canterbury, A.D. 995-1005, dying at an advanced +age. No other English name before the Conquest is so famous in literature. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA3anc" name="EndNoteA3sym">iii</a> Services of the Church. +</p> + +<p> +“It concerns mass priests, and all God’s servants, to keep their +churches employed with God’s service. Let them sing therein the +seven-tide songs that are appointed them, as the Synod earnestly +requires—that is, the uht song (matins); the prime song (seven A.M.); the +undern song (terce, nine A.M.); the midday song (sext); the noon song (nones, +three P.M.); the even song (six P.M.); the seventh or night song (compline, +nine P.M.)”—19th Canon of Elfric. +</p> + +<p> +It is not to be supposed that the laity either were expected to attend, or +could attend, all these services, which were strictly kept in monastic bodies; +but it would appear that mass, and sometimes matins and evensong, or else +compline, were generally frequented. And these latter would be, as represented +in the text, the ordinary services in private chapels. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA4anc" name="EndNoteA4sym">iv</a> Battle of Brunanburgh. +</p> + +<p> +In this famous battle, the English, under their warlike king, defeated a most +threatening combination of foes; Anlaf, the Danish prince, having united his +forces to those of Constantine, King of the Scots, and the Britons, or Welsh of +Strathclyde and Cambria. So proud were the English of the victory, that their +writers break into poetry when they come to that portion of their annals. Such +is the case with the writer of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, from whom the +following verses are abridged. They have been already partially quoted in the +text. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Here Athelstane king,<br/> +Of earls the lord,<br/> +To warriors the ring-giver,<br/> +Glory world-long<br/> +Had won in the strife,<br/> +By edge of the sword,<br/> +At Brunanburgh.<br/> +The offspring of Edward,<br/> +The departed king,<br/> +Cleaving the shields.<br/> +Struck down the brave.<br/> +Such was their valour,<br/> +Worthy of their sires,<br/> +That oft in the strife<br/> +They shielded the land<br/> +‘Gainst every foe.<br/> +The Scottish chieftains,<br/> +The warriors of the Danes,<br/> +Pierced through their mail,<br/> +Lay dead on the field.<br/> +The field was red<br/> +With warriors’ blood,<br/> +What time the sun,<br/> +Uprising at morn,<br/> +The candle of God,<br/> +Ran her course through the heavens;<br/> +Till red in the west<br/> +She sank to her rest.<br/> +Through the live-long day<br/> +Fought the people of Wessex,<br/> +Unshrinking from toil,<br/> +While Mercian men,<br/> +Hurled darts by their side.<br/> +Fated to die<br/> +Their ships brought the Danes,<br/> +Five kings and seven earls,<br/> +All men of renown,<br/> +And Scots without number<br/> +Lay dead on the field.<br/> +Constantine, hoary warrior,<br/> +Had small cause to boast.<br/> +Young in the fight,<br/> +Mangled and torn,<br/> +Lay his son on the plain.<br/> +Nor Anlaf the Dane<br/> +With wreck of his troops,<br/> +Could vaunt of the war<br/> +Of the clashing of spears.<br/> +Or the crossing of swords,<br/> +with the offspring of Edward.<br/> +The Northmen departed<br/> +In their mailed barks,<br/> +Sorrowing much;<br/> +while the two brothers,<br/> +The King and the Etheling,<br/> +To Wessex returned,<br/> +Leaving behind<br/> +The corpses of foes<br/> +To the beak of the raven,<br/> +The eagle and kite,<br/> +And the wolf of the wood. +</p> + +<p> +The Chronicle simply adds, “A.D. 937.—This year King Athelstan, and +the Etheling Edmund, his brother, led a force to Brimanburgh, end there fought +against Anlaf, and, Christ helping them, they slew five kings and seven +earls.” +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA5anc" name="EndNoteA5sym">v</a> Murder of Edmund. +</p> + +<p> +A certain robber named Leofa, whom Edmund had banished for his crimes, +returning after six years’ absence, totally unexpected, was sitting, on +the feast of St. Augustine, the apostle of the English, and first Archbishop of +Canterbury, among the royal guests at Pucklechurch, for on this day the English +were wont to regale, in commemoration of their first preacher; by chance, too, +he was placed near a nobleman, whom the king had condescended to make his +guest. This, while the others were eagerly carousing, was perceived by the king +alone; when, hurried with indignation, and impelled by fate, he leaped from the +table, caught the robber by the hair, and dragged him to the floor; but he, +secretly drawing a dagger from its sheath, plunged it with all his force into +the breast of the king as he lay upon him. Dying of the wound, he gave rise +over the whole kingdom to many fictions concerning his decease. The robber was +shortly torn limb from limb by the attendants who rushed in, though he wounded +some of them ere they could accomplish their purpose. St. Dunstan, at that time +Abbot of Glastonbury, had foreseen his ignoble end, being fully persuaded of it +from the gesticulations and insolent mockery of a devil dancing before him. +Wherefore, hastening to court at full speed, he received intelligence of the +transaction on the road. By common consent, then, it was determined that his +body should be brought to Glastonbury, and there magnificently buried in the +northern part of the tower. That such had been his intention, through his +singular regard for the abbot, was evident from particular circumstances. The +village, also, where he was murdered, was made a offering for the dead, that +the spot, which had witnessed his fall, might ever after minister aid to his +soul,—William of Malmesbury, B, ii. e. 7, Bohn’s Edition. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA6anc" name="EndNoteA6sym">vi</a> A. D. 556—Anglo-Saxon +Chronicle. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA7anc" name="EndNoteA7sym">vii</a> Wulfstan, and the See of +Dorchester. +</p> + +<p> +When Athelstane was dead, the Danes, both in Northumberland and Mercia, +revolted against the English rule, and made Anlaf their king. Archbishop +Wulfstan, then of York, sided with them, perhaps being himself of Danish blood. +The kingdom was eventually divided between Edmund and Aulaf, until the death of +the latter. When Edred ascended the throne—after the murder of Edmund, +who had, before his death, repossessed himself of the whole +sovereignty—the wise men of Northumberland, with Wulfstan at their head, +swore submission to him, but in 948 rebelled and chose for their king Eric of +Denmark. Edred marched at once against them, and subdued the rebellion with +great vigour, not to say riqour. He threw the archbishop into prison at +Jedburgh in Bernicia. After a time he was released, but only upon the condition +of banishment from Northumbria, and he was made Bishop of Dorchester, a place +familiar to the tourist on the Thames, famed for the noble abbey church which +still exists, and has been grandly restored. +</p> + +<p> +Although Dorchester is now only a village, it derives its origin from a period +so remote that it is lost in the mist of ages. It was probably a British +village under the name Cair Dauri, the camp on the waters; and coins of +Cunobelin, or Cassivellaunus, have been found in good preservation. Bede +mentions it as a Roman station, and Richard of Cirencester marks it as such in +the xviii. Iter, under the name Durocina. +</p> + +<p> +Its bishopric was founded by Birinus, the apostle of the West Saxons; and the +present bishoprics of Winchester, Salisbury, Exeter, Bath and Wells, Worcester +and Hereford, were successively taken from it, after which it still extended +from the Thames to the Humber. +</p> + +<p> +Suffering grievously from the ravages of the Danes, it became a small town, and +it suffered again grievously at the Conquest, when the inhabited houses were +reduced by the Norman ravages from 172 to 100, and perhaps the inhabitants were +reduced in proportion. In consequence, Remigius, the first Norman bishop, +removed the see to Lincoln, because Dorchester, on account of its size and +small population, did not suit his ideas, as John of Brompton observes. From +this period its decline was rapid, in spite of its famous abbey, which Remigius +partially erected with the stones from the bishop’s palace. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA8anc" name="EndNoteA8sym">viii</a> Anglo-Saxon Literature. +</p> + +<p> +In the age of Bede, the eighth century, Britain was distinguished for its +learning; but the Danish invasions caused the rapid decline of its renown. +</p> + +<p> +The churches and monasteries, where alone learning flourished, and which were +the only libraries and schools, were the first objects of the hatred of the +ferocious pagans; and, in consequence, when Alfred came to the throne, as he +tells us in his own words—“South of the Humber there were few +priests who could understand the meaning of their common prayers, or translate +a line of Latin into English; so few, that in Wessex there was not one.” +Alfred set himself diligently to work to correct this evil. Nearly all the +books in existence in England were in Latin, and it was a “great” +library which contained fifty copies of these. There was a great objection to +the use of the vernacular in the Holy Scriptures, as tending to degrade them by +its uncouth jargon; but the Venerable Bede had rendered the Gospel of St. John +into the Anglo-Saxon, together with other extracts from holy Scripture; and +there were versions of the Psalter in the vulgar tongue, very rude and uncouth; +for ancient translators generally imagined a translation could only be faithful +which placed all the words of the vulgar tongue in the same relative positions +as the corresponding words in the original. An Anglo-Saxon translation upon +this plan is extant. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred had taught himself Latin by translating: there were few vocabularies, +and only the crabbed grammar of old Priscian. Shaking himself free from the +trammels we have enumerated, he invited learned men from abroad, such as his +biographer, Asser, and together they attempted a complete version of the Bible. +Some writers suppose the project was nearly completed, others, that it was +interrupted by his early death. Still, translations were multiplied of the +sacred writings, and the rubrics show that they were read, as described in the +text, upon the Sundays and festivals. From that time down to the days of +Wickliffe, England can boast of such versions of the sacred Word as can hardly +be paralleled in Europe. +</p> + +<p> +The other works we have mentioned were also translated by or for Alfred. +“The Chronicle of Orosius,” a history of the world by a Spaniard of +Seville; “The History of the Venerable Bede;” “The +Consolations of Philosophy,” by Boethius; “Narratives from Ancient +Mythology;” “The Confessions of St. Augustine;” “The +Pastoral Instructions of St. Gregory;” and his “Dialogue,” +form portions of the works of this greatest of kings, and true father of his +people. His “Apologues,” imitated from Æsop, are unfortunately +lost. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA9anc" name="EndNoteA9sym">ix</a> The Court of Edred. +</p> + +<p> +All the early chroniclers appear to take a similar view of the character and +court of Edred. William of Malmesbury says—“The king devoted his +life to God, and to St. Dunstan, by whose admonition he bore with patience his +frequent bodily pains, prolonged his prayers, and made his palace altogether +the school of virtue.” But although pious, he was by no means wanting in +manly energy, as was shown by his vigorous and successful campaign in +Northumbria, on the occasion of the attempt to set Eric, son of Harold, on the +throne of Northumbria. The angelic apparition to St. Dunstan, mentioned in +chapter VII, is told by nearly all the early historians, but with varying +details. According to many, it occurred while Dunstan was hastening to the aid +of Edred. The exigencies of the tale required a slightly different treatment of +the legend. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA10anc" name="EndNoteA10sym">x</a> Confession in the +Anglo-Saxon Church. +</p> + +<p> +“On the week next before holy night shall every one go to his shrift +(i.e. confessor), and his shrift shall shrive him in such a manner as his deeds +which he hath done require and he shall charge all that belong to his district +that if any of them have discord with any, he make peace with him; if any one +will not be brought to this, then he shall not shrive him; [but] then he shall +inform the bishop, that he may convert him to what is right, if he he willing +to belong to God: then all contentions and disputes shall cease, and if there +be any one of them that hath taken offence at another, then shall they be +reconciled, that they may the more freely say in the Lord’s Prayer, +‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against +us,’ etc. And having thus purified their minds, let them enter upon the +holy fast-tide, and cleanse themselves by satisfaction against holy Easter, for +this satisfaction is as it were a second baptism. As in Baptism the sins before +committed are forgiven, so, by satisfaction, are the sins committed after +Baptism.” Theodulf’s Canons, A.D. 994 (Canon 36). +</p> + +<p> +It is evident, says Johnson, that “holy night” means “lenten +night,” as the context shows. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA11anc" name="EndNoteA11sym">xi</a> Incense in the Anglo-Saxon +Church. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Rock, in his “Hierurgia Anglicans,” states that incense was +used at the Gospel. In vol. i., quoting from Ven. Bede, he writes +—“Conveniunt omnes in ecclesium B. Petri ipse (Ceolfridas Abbas) +thure incenso, et dicto oratione, ad altare pacem dat omnibus, stans in +gradibus, thuribulum habens in menu.” In Leofric’s Missal is a form +for the blessing of incense. Theodore’s Penitential also affixes a +penance to its wilful or careless destruction. Ven. Bede on his deathbed gave +away incense amongst his little parting presents, as his disciple, Cuthbert, +relates. Amongst the furniture of the larger Anglo-Saxon churches was a huge +censer hanging from the roof, which emitted fumes throughout the mass. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Hic quoque thuribulum, capitellis undique cinctum,<br/> +Pendet de summo, fumosa foramina pandens:<br/> +De quibus ambrosia spirabunt thura Sabæa,<br/> +Quando sacerdotes missas offerre jubentur.”<br/> +Alcuini <i>Opera</i>, B. ii,, p. 550. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA12anc" name="EndNoteA12sym">xii</a> Psalm xxi. 3. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA13anc" name="EndNoteA13sym">xiii</a> “All were +indignant at the shameless deed, and murmured amongst themselves,” +—William of Malmesbury. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA14anc" name="EndNoteA14sym">xiv</a> The Welsh were driven +from Exeter by King Athelstane; before that time, Englishmen and Welsh had +inhabited it with equal rights. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA15anc" name="EndNoteA15sym">xv</a> The earliest inhabitants +of Ireland were called Scots. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA16anc" name="EndNoteA16sym">xvi</a> Legends about St. +Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a great pity,” says Mr. Freeman, in his valuable “Old +English History,” “that so many strange stories are told about him +[Dunstan], because people are apt to think of those stories and not of his real +actions.” This has indeed been the case to such an extent that his +talents, as a statesman and as an ecclesiastical legislator, are almost unknown +to many who are very familiar with the story of his seizing the devil by the +nose with a pair of tongs. Sir Francis Palgrave supposes that St. +Dunstan’s seclusion at the time had led him to believe, like so many +solitaries, that he was attacked in person by the fiend, and that he related +his visions, which were accepted as absolute facts by his credulous hearers. +Hence the author has assumed the currency of some of these marvellous legends +in his tale, and has introduced a later one into the text of the present +chapter. But the whole life of the saint, as related by his monkish +biographers, is literally full of such legends, some terrible, some ludicrous. +One of the most remarkable deserves mention, bearing, as it does, upon our +tale. It is said that he learned that Edwy was dead, and that the devils were +about to carry off his soul in triumph, when, falling to fervent prayer, he +obtained his release. A most curious colloquy between the abbot and the devils +on this subject may be found in Osberne’s “Life of Dunstan.” +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA17anc" name="EndNoteA17sym">xvii</a> The Benedictine Rule. +</p> + +<p> +St. Benedict, the founder of the great Benedictine Order, was born in the +neighbourhood of Nursia, a city of Italy, about A.D. 480. Sent to study at +Rome, he was shocked at the vices of his fellow students, ran away from the +city, and shut himself up in a hermitage, where he resigned himself to a life +of the strictest austerity. Three years he spent in a cave near Subiaco, about +forty miles from Rome, where he was so removed from society that he lost all +account of time. He did not, however, lead an idle life of self contemplation; +he instructed the shepherds of he neighbourhood, and such were the results of +his instruction that his fame spread widely, until, the abbot of a neighbouring +monastery dying, the brethren almost compelled him to become their superior, +but, not liking the reforms he introduced, subsequently endeavoured to poison +him, whereupon he returned to his cave, where, as St. Gregory says, “he +dwelt with himself” and became more celebrated than ever. After this the +number of his disciples increased so greatly, that, emerging from his solitude, +he built twelve monasteries, in each of which he placed twelve monks under a +superior, finally laying the foundation of the great monastery of Monte +Cassino, which has ever since been regarded as the central institution of the +order. +</p> + +<p> +Here was drawn up the famous Benedictine rule, which was far more adapted than +any other code to prevent the cloister from becoming the abode of idleness or +lascivious ease. To the three vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, was +added the obligation of manual labour, the brethren being required to work with +their hands at least seven hours daily. The profession for life was preceded by +a novitiate of one year, during which the rule was deeply studied by the +novice, that the life vow might not be taken without due consideration. The +colour of the habit was usually dark, hence the brethren were called the Black +Monks. +</p> + +<p> +St. Benedict died of a fever, which he caught in ministering to the poor, on +the eve of Passion Sunday, A.D. 543. Before his death, the houses of the order +were to be found in all parts of Europe, and by the ninth century it had become +general throughout the Church, almost superseding all other orders. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA18anc" name="EndNoteA18sym">xviii</a> The Roman Roads. +</p> + +<p> +Roman roads were thus constructed: Two shallow trenches were dug parallel to +each other, marking the breadth of the proposed road; the loose earth was +removed till a solid foundation was reached, and above this were laid four +distinct strata—the first of small broken stones, the second of rubble, +the third of fragments of bricks or pottery, and the fourth the pavement, +composed of large blocks of solid stone, so joined as to present a perfectly +even surface. Regular footpaths were raised on each side, and covered with +gravel. Milestones divided them accurately. Mountains were pierced by cuttings +or tunnels, and arches thrown over valleys or streams. Upon these roads, +posting houses existed at intervals of six miles, each provided with forty +horses, so that journeys of more than 150 miles were sometimes accomplished in +one day. +</p> + +<p> +From the arrival of our uncivilised anceators, these magnificent roads were +left to ruin and decay, and sometimes became the quarry whence the thane or +baron drew stones for his castle; but they still formed the channels of +communication for centuries. Henry of Huntingdon (circa 1154) mentions the +Icknield Street, from east to west; the Eringe, or Ermine Street, from south to +north; the Watling Street, from southeast to northwest; and the Foss Way, from +northeast to southwest, as the four principal highways of Britain in his day. +Once ruined, no communications so perfect existed until these days of +railroads. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA19anc" name="EndNoteA19sym">xix</a> The Rollright Stones. +</p> + +<p> +These stones are still to be seen in the parish of Great Rollright near +Chipping Norton, Oxon, anciently Rollrich or Rholdrwygg. They lie on the edge +of an old Roman trackway, well defined, which extends along the watershed +between Thames and Avon. The writer has himself heard from the rustics of the +neighbourhood the explanation given by Oswy, while that put in the mouth of +Father Cuthbert is the opinion of the learned. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA20anc" name="EndNoteA20sym">xx</a> For this new translation +of Urbs beata the author is indebted to his friend the Rev. Gerald Moultrie. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA21anc" name="EndNoteA21sym">xxi</a> The reader will remember +the strong feeling of animosity then existing between seculars and regulars. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteA22anc" name="EndNoteA22sym">xxii</a> This demoniacal laughter +is one of the many legends about St. Dunstan. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB1anc" name="EndNoteB1sym">xxiii</a> See Preface. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB2anc" name="EndNoteB2sym">xxiv</a> Ruined British Cities. +</p> + +<p> +The resistance of the Britons (or Welsh) to their Saxon (or English) foes was +so determined, that, as in all similar cases, it increased the miseries of the +conquered. In Gaul the conquered Celts united with the Franks to make one +people; in Spain they united with the Goths; but the conquerors of Britain came +from that portion of Germany which had been untouched by Roman valour or +civilisation, and consequently there was no disposition to unite with their +unhappy victims, but the war became one of extermination. Long and bravely did +the unhappy Welsh struggle. After a hundred years of warfare they still +possessed the whole extent of the western coast, from the wall of Autoninus to +the extreme promontory of Cornwall; and the principal cities of the inland +territory still maintained the resistance. The fields of battle, says Gibbon, +might be traced in almost every district by the monuments of bones; the +fragments of falling towers were stained by blood, the Britons were massacred +ruthlessly to the last man in the conquered towns, without distinction of age +or sex, as in Anderida. Whole territories returned to desolation; the district +between the Tyne and Tees, for example, to the state of a savage and solitary +forest. The wolves, which Roman authorities describe as nonexistent in England, +again peopled those dreary wastes; and from the soft civilisation of Rome the +inhabitants of the land fell back to the barbarous manners and customs of the +shepherds and hunters of the German forests. Nor did the independent Britons, +who had taken refuge finally in Wales, or Devon and Cornwall, fare much better. +Separated by their foes from the rest of mankind, they returned to that state +of barbarism from which they had emerged, and became a scandal at last to the +growing civilisation of their English foes. +</p> + +<p> +Under these circumstances the Saxons or English (the Saxons founded the +kingdoms of Wessex and Essex; the Jutes, Kent; the Angles all the others. The +predominance of the latter caused the term English to become the general +appellation.) cared little to inhabit the cities they conquered; they left them +to utter desolation, as in the case described in the text, until a period came +when, as in the case of the first English assaults upon Exeter and the west +country, they no longer destroyed, but appropriated, while they spared the +conquered. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB3anc" name="EndNoteB3sym">xxv</a> Seaton in Devonshire. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB4anc" name="EndNoteB4sym">xxvi</a> Elgiva or Ælgifu, +signifies fairy gift. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB5anc" name="EndNoteB5sym">Xxvii</a> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The gate of hell stands open night and day;<br/> +Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:<br/> +But to return, and view the upper skies—In this the toil, in this the +labour lies.—Dryden. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB6anc" name="EndNoteB6sym">xxviii</a> Valhalla. +</p> + +<p> +Valhalla or Waihalla was the mythical Scandinavian Olympus, the celestial +locality where Odin and Edris dwelt with the happy dead who had fallen in +battle, and who had been conducted thither by the fair Valkyries. Here they +passed the days in fighting and hunting alternately, being restored sound in +body for the banquet each night, where they drank mead from the skulls of the +foes they had vanquished in battle. Such was the heaven which commended itself +to those fierce warriors. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB7anc" name="EndNoteB7sym">xxix</a> The parish priests were +commonly called “Mass-Thanes” +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB8anc" name="EndNoteB8sym">xxx</a> “I am the +resurrection and the life, saith the Lord. He that believeth in Me, though he +were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth, and believeth in Me, shall +never die.” +</p> + +<p> +It was not the usual English custom, in those days, to bury the dead in +coffins, still it was often done, in the case of the great, from the earliest +days of Christianity. For instance, a stone coffin, supposed to contain the +dust of the fierce Offa, who died A. D. 796, was dug up, when more than a +thousand years had passed away, in the year 1836, at Hemel-Hempstead, with the +name Offa rudely carved upon it. The earliest mention of churchyards in English +antiquities is in the canons called the “Excerptions of Ecgbriht,” +A.D. 740, when Cuthbert was Archbishop of Canterbury; and here the word +“atria” is used, which may refer to the outbuildings or porticoes +of a church.<br /><br /> +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB9anc" name="EndNoteB9sym">xxxi</a> The Greater and Lesser +Excommunications. +</p> + +<p> +The lesser excommunication excluded men from the participation of the Eucharist +and the prayers of the faithful, but did not necessarily expel them from the +Church. The greater excommunication was far more dreadful in its operation. It +was not lawful to pray, speak, or eat, with the excommunicate (Canons of +Ecgbright). No meat might be given into their hands even in charity, although +it might be laid before them on the ground. Those who sheltered them incurred a +heavy “were gild,” and endangered the loss of their estates; and +finally, in case of obstinacy, outlawry and banishment followed. +</p> + +<p> +—King Canute’s Laws Ecclesiastical. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB10anc" name="EndNoteB10sym">xxxii</a> Disappearance of +Elgiva. +</p> + +<p> +The writer has already in the preface stated his reasons for rejecting the +usual sad story about the fate of the hapless Elgiva. The other story, that she +was seized by Archbishop Odo, branded on the face, and sent to Ireland, as Mr. +Freeman observes, rests on no good authority; all that is certainly known is +that she disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +At the time commonly assigued to these events, Dunstan was still in Flanders; +yet he is generally credited with the atrocities by modern writers, even as if +he had been proved guilty after a formal trial. His return probably took place +about the time occupied by the action of the last chapter, when the partition +of the kingdom had already occurred. +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#EndNoteB11anc" name="EndNoteB11sym">xxxiii</a> The last Anointing. +</p> + +<p> +The priest shall also have oil hallowed, separately, for children, and for sick +men; and solemnly anoint the sick in their beds. Some sick men are full of vain +fears, so as not to consent to the being anointed. Now we will tell you how +God’s Apostle Jacob hath instructed us in this point; he thus speaks to +the faithful: “If any of you be afflicted, let him pray for himself with +an even mind, and praise his Lord. If any be sick among you, let him fetch the +mass priests of the congregation, and let them sing over him, and pray for him, +and anoint him with oil in the Name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith shall +heal the sick; and the Lord shall raise him up: and if he be in sins they shall +be forgiven him. Confess your sins among yourselves, pray for yourselves among +yourselves, that ye be healed.” Thus spake Jacob the Apostle concerning +the unction of the sick. But the sick man, before his anointing, shall with +inward heart confess his sins to the priest, if he hath any for which he hath +not made satisfaction, according to what the Apostle before taught: and he must +not be anointed, unless he request it, and make his confession. If he were +before sinful and careless, let him then confess, and repent, and do alms +before his death, that he may not be adjudged to hell, but obtain the Divine +mercy. +</p> + +<p> +Such is Johnson’s version of the 32d canon of Elfric, in which he has +preserved closely Elfric’s translation, or rather paraphrase, of the +passage in St. James. The name James was not then in use, the Latin Jacobus was +rendered Jacob.—Johnson’s English Canons, A.D. 957, 32. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EDWY THE FAIR ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune + +Author: A. D. Crake + +Release Date: August 18, 2004 [EBook #13215] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EDWY THE FAIR OR THE FIRST *** + + + + +Produced by Martin Robb + + + + + +Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune: + +A Tale of the Days of Saint Dunstan, + +by the Rev. A. D. Crake. + + + + PREFACE. + +It has been the aim of the Author, in a series of original tales told to +the senior boys of a large school, to illustrate interesting or +difficult passages of Church History by the aid of fiction. Two of these +tales--"Aemilius," a tale of the Decian and Valerian persecutions; and +"Evanus," a tale of the days of Constantine--he has already published, +and desires gratefully to acknowledge the kindness with which they have +been received. + +He is thus encouraged to submit another attempt to the public, having +its scene of action in our own land, although in times very dissimilar +to our own; and for its object, the illustration of the struggle between +the regal and ecclesiastical powers in the days of the ill-fated and +ill-advised King Edwy. + +Scarcely can one find a schoolboy who has not read the touching legend +of Edwy and Elgiva--for it is little more than a legend in most of its +details; and which of these youthful readers has not execrated the +cruelty of the Churchmen who separated those unhappy lovers? While the +tragical story of the fate of the hapless Elgiva has been the theme of +many a poet and even historian, who has accepted the tale as if it were +of as undoubted authenticity as the Reform Bill. + +The writer can well remember the impression the tale made upon his +youthful imagination, and the dislike, to use a mild word, with which he +ever viewed the character of the great statesman and ecclesiastic of the +tenth century, Dunstan, until a wider knowledge of history and a more +accurate judgment came with maturer years; and testimonies to the +ability and genius of that monk, who had been the moving spirit of his +age, began to force themselves upon him. + +Lord Macaulay has well summed up the relative positions of Church and +State in that age in the following words: "It is true that the Church +had been deeply corrupted by superstition, yet she retained enough of +the sublime theology and benevolent morality of her early days to +elevate many intellects, and to purify many hearts. That the sacerdotal +order should encroach on the functions of the chief magistrate, would in +our time be a great evil. But that which in an age of good government is +an evil, may in an age of grossly bad government be a blessing. It is +better that men should be governed by priest craft than by brute +violence; by such a prelate as Dunstan, than by such a warrior as Penda." + +The Church was indeed the salt of the earth, even if the salt had +somewhat lost its savour; it was the only power which could step in +between the tyrant and his victim, which could teach the irresponsible +great--irresponsible to man--their responsibility to the great and +awful Being whose creatures they were. And again, it was then the only +home of civilisation and learning. It has been well said that for the +learning of this age to vilify the monks and monasteries of the medieval +period, is for the oak to revile the acorn from which it sprang. + +The overwhelming realisation of these facts, the determination to set up +the dominion of truth and justice which they held to be identical with +that of the Church, as that was identical with the kingdom of God, +supplies the key to the lives and characters of such men as Ambrose, +Cyril, Dunstan, and Becket. They each came in collision with the civil +power; but Ambrose against Justina or even Theodosius, Cyril against +Orestes, Dunstan against Edwy, Becket against Henry Plantagenet--each +represented, in a greater or less degree, the cause of religion, nay of +humanity, against its worst foes, tyranny or moral corruption. + +Yet not one of these great men was without his faults; this is only to +say he was human; but more may be admitted--personal motives would mix +themselves with nobler emotions. Self would assert her fatal claims, and +great mistakes were sometimes made by those who would have forfeited +their lives rather than have committed them, had they known what they +were doing. Yet, on the whole, their cause was that of God and man, and +they fought nobly. Shall we asperse their memories because they "had +this treasure in earthen vessels"? + +The tale itself is intended to depict what the writer believes to be the +true relative positions of Edwy and the great ecclesiastic; therefore he +will not attempt to deal with the subject here. It will be noticed +however, that he has shorn the narrative of the dread catastrophe with +which it terminated in all the histories of our childhood. Scarcely any +writer has made such wise research into the history of this period as +Mr. E. A. Freeman, and the author has adopted his conclusions upon this +point. With him he has therefore admitted the marriage of Edwy with +Elgiva, although it was an uncanonical marriage beyond all doubt, and +has given her the title of queen, which she bore in a document preserved +by Lappenburg. But, in agreement with the same authority, the writer +feels most happy to be able to reject the story of Elgiva's supposed +tragical death. All sorts of stories are told by later writers, utterly +contradictory and confused, of a woman killed by the Mercians in their +revolt. This could not be Elgiva, for she was not divorced till the +rebellion was over; and even the sad tale that she was seized by the +officers of Odo, and branded to disfigure her beauty, rests on no good +authority. In spite of the reluctance with which men relinquish a +touching tragedy, the calumny should be banished from the pages of +historians; and it is painful to see it repeated, as if of undoubted +authenticity, in a recent popular history for children by one of the +greatest of modern novelists. + +Edwy's character has cost the writer much thought. He has endeavoured to +paint him faithfully--not so bad as all the monastic writers of the +succeeding period (the only writers with few exceptions) describe him; +but still such a youth as the circumstances under which he became placed +would probably have made him--capable of sincere attachment, brave, +and devoted to his friends, yet careless of all religious obligations; +bitterly hostile to the Church, that is to Christianity, for the terms +were then synonymous; and reckless of obligations, or of the sanctity of +truth and justice. + +His measures against St. Dunstan, as they are related in the tale, have +the authority of history; although it is needless to say that the agents +are in part fictitious characters. The writer's object has been to +subordinate fiction to history, and never to contradict historic fact; +if he has failed in this intention, it has been his misfortune rather +than his fault; for he has had recourse to all such authorities as lay +in his reach.[i] Especially, he is glad to find that the +character he had conceived as Edwy's perfectly coincides with the +description given by Palgrave in his valuable History of the Anglo-Saxons: + +"Edwy was a youth of singular beauty, but vain, rash, petulant, +profligate, and surrounded by a host of young courtiers, all bent on +encouraging and emulating the vices of their master." + +Another object of the tale has been to depict the trials and +temptations, the fall and the recovery, of a lad fresh from a home full +of religious influences, when thrown amidst the snares which abounded +then as now. The motto, "Facilis descensus Averno," etc, epitomises the +whole story. + +In relating a tale of the days of St. Dunstan, the author has felt bound +to give the religious colouring which actually prevailed in that day. He +has found much authority and information in Johnson's Anglo-Saxon +Canons, especially those of Elfric, probably contemporaneous with the +tale. He has written in no controversial spirit, but with an honest +desire to set forth the truth. + +It may be objected that he has made all his characters speak in very +modern English, and has not affected the archaisms commonly found in +tales of the time. To this he would reply, that if the genuine language +were preserved, it would be utterly unintelligible to modern Englishmen, +and therefore he has thought it preferable to translate into the +vernacular of today. The English which men spoke then was no more +stilted or formal to them than ours is to us. + +Although he has followed Mr. Freeman in the use of the terms English and +Welsh, as far less likely to mislead than the terms Saxons and Britons, +and far truer to history, yet he has not thought proper to follow the +obsolete spelling of proper names; he has not, e. g., spelt Edwy, Eadwig +or Elgiva, Aelfgifu. Custom has Latinised the appellations, and as he +has rejected obsolete terms in conversation, he has felt it more +consistent to reject these more correct, but less familiar, orthographies. + +The title, "First Chronicle of Aescendune," has been adopted, because +the tale here given is but the first of a series of tales which have +been told, but not yet written, attaching themselves to the same family +and locality at intervals of generations. Thus, the second illustrates +the struggle between Edmund Ironside and Canute; the third, the Norman +Conquest; etc. Their appearance in print must depend upon the indulgence +extended to the present volume. + +In conclusion, the writer dedicates this book with great respect to Mrs. +Trevelyan, authoress of "Lectures upon the History of England;" whose +first volume, years ago, first taught him to appreciate, in some degree, +the character of St. Dunstan. + +All Saints' School, Bloxham, + +Easter 1874. + + + CHAPTER I. "THIS IS THE FOREST PRIMEVAL." + +IT was a lovely eventide of the sunny month of May, and the declining +rays of the sun penetrated the thick foliage of an old English forest, +lighting up in chequered pattern the velvet sward thick with moss, and +casting uncertain rays as the wind shook the boughs. Every bush seemed +instinct with life, for April showers and May sun had united to force +each leaf and spray into its fairest development, and the drowsy hum of +countless insects told, as it saluted the ears, the tale of approaching +summer. + +Two boys reclined upon the mossy bank beneath an aged oak; their dress, +no less than their general demeanour, denoted them to be the sons of +some substantial thane. They were clad in hunting costume: leggings of +skin over boots of untanned leather protected their limbs from thorn or +brier, and over their under garments they wore tunics of a dull green +hue, edged at the collar and cuffs with brown fur, and fastened by +richly ornamented belts: their bows lay by their sides, while quivers of +arrows were suspended to their girdles, and two spears, such as were +used in the chase of the wild boar, lay by them on the grass. They had +the same fair hair, which, untouched by the shears, hung negligently +around neck and shoulder; the same blue eyes added an indescribable +softness to the features; they had the same well-knit frames and agile +movements, but yet there was a difference. The elder seemed possessed of +greater vivacity of expression; but although each well-strung muscle +indicated physical prowess, there was an uncertain expression in his +glance and in the play of his features, which suggested a yielding and +somewhat vacillating character; while the younger, lacking the full +physical development, and somewhat of the engaging expression of his +brother, had that calm and steady bearing which indicated present and +future government of the passions. + +"By Thor and Woden, Alfred, we shall be here all night. At what hour did +that stupid churl Oscar say that the deer trooped down to drink?" + +"Not till sunset, Elfric; and it wants half an hour yet; see, the sun is +still high." + +"I do think it is never going to set; here we have been hunting, hunting +all the day, and got nothing for our pains." + +"You forget the hare and the rabbit here." + +"Toss them to the dogs. Here, Bran, you brute, take this hare your +masters have been hunting all day, for your dinner;" and as he spoke he +tossed the solitary victim of his own prowess in the chase to the huge +wolfhound, which made a speedy meal upon the hare, while Alfred threw +the rabbit to the other of their two canine companions. + +"I would almost as soon have lost this holiday, and spent the time with +Father Cuthbert, to be bored by his everlasting talk about our duties, +and forced to repeat '_hic, haec, hoc_,' till my head ached. What a long +homily [ii] he preached us this morning--and then that +long story about the saint." + +"You are out of spirits. Father Cuthbert's tales are not so bad, after +all you seemed to like the legend he told us the other night." + +"Yes, about our ancestor Sebbald and his glorious death; there was +something in that tale worth hearing; it stirred the blood--none of +your moping saints, that Sebbald." + +"I once heard another legend from Father Cuthbert, about the burning of +Croyland Abbey, and how the abbot stood, saying mass at the altar, +without flinching or even turning his head, when the Danes, having fired +the place, broke into the chapel. Do you not think it wanted more +bravery to do that in cold blood than to stand firm in all the +excitement of a battle?" + +"You are made to be a monk, Alfred, and I daresay, if you get the +chance, will be a martyr, and get put in the calendar by-and-by. I +suppose they will keep your relics here in the priory church, and you +will be St. Alfred of Aescendune; for me, I would sooner die as the old +sea kings loved to die, surrounded by heaps of slain, with my sword +broken in my hand." + +It was at this moment that their conversation was suddenly interrupted +by a loud crashing of boughs in the adjacent underwood, a rush as of +some wild beast, a loud cry in boyish tones--"Help! help! the wolf! +the wolf!" + +Elfric jumped up in an instant, and rushed forward heedless of danger, +followed closely by his younger brother, who was scarcely less eager to +render immediate assistance. + +The cries for help became more and more piercing, as if some pressing +danger menaced the utterer. Elfric, who, in spite of his flippant +speech, was by no means destitute of keen sympathies and self devotion, +hurried forward, fearless of danger, bounding through thicket and +underwood, until, arriving upon a small clearing, the whole scene +flashed upon him. + +A huge grey wolf, wounded and bleeding, was about to rush for the second +time upon a youth in hunting costume, whose broken spear, broken in the +first encounter with the beast he had disturbed, seemed to deprive him +of all chance of success in the desperate encounter evidently impending. +His trembling limbs showed his extreme apprehension, and the sweat stood +in huge drops on his forehead; his eyes were fixed upon the beast as if +he were fascinated, while the shaft of his spear, presented feebly +against the coming onslaught, showed that he had lost his self +possession, for he neglected the bow and arrows which were slung at his +side--if indeed there was time to use them. + +The beast sprang, but as he did so another spear was stoutly presented +to meet him, and he literally impaled himself in his eager spring on the +weapon of Elfric. + +Still, such was his weight that the boy fell backward beneath the mighty +rush, and such the tenacity of life that, though desperately wounded, +even to death, the beast sought the prostrate lad with teeth and claws, +in frantic fury, until a blow from the hunting knife, which Elfric well +knew how to use, laid the wolf lifeless at his side. + +Breathless, but not severely injured, he rose from the ground covered +with blood; his garments torn, his face reddened by exertion, and paused +a moment, while he seemed to strive to repress the wild beatings of his +heart, which bounded as if it would burst its prison. + +But far more exhausted was the other combatant, yet scarcely so much by +exertion as by fear, of which he still bore the evident traces. After a +few moments he broke the silence, and his words seemed incoherent. + +"Where is my horse? the beast threw me--I wish the wolves may get him +--I fear you are hurt; not much, I hope; where can those serfs be? Fine +vassals, to desert their master in peril. I'll have them hung. But, by +St. Cuthbert, you are all covered with blood." + +"'Tis that of the wolf, then, for I have scarcely a scratch: one of the +beast's claws ripped up my sleeve, and the skin with it; that was all he +could do before he felt the cold steel between his ribs." + +"Not a moment too soon, or he would have killed you before we could +interfere; why, as you rolled together, I could hardly see which was boy +and which was wolf. But where's my horse? Did you see a white horse rush +past you?" + +"We heard a rush as of some wild animal." + +"Wild enough. I was riding through the glade, and my attendants were on +in front, when we stumbled on this wolf, crouched under that thicket. +The horse started so violently that it threw me almost upon the monster +you have killed." + +Here the speaker paused, and blew impatient blasts upon a horn which had +been slung round his neck. They were soon answered, and some attendants, +dressed in semi-hunting costume, made their appearance with haste and +confusion, which showed their apprehensions. + +"Guthred! Eadmer! Why did you get so far away from me? I might have been +killed. Look at this monstrous wolf; why, its teeth are dreadful. It +broke my spear, and would have had me down, but for this--this youth. + +"I forgot, I haven't asked to whom I am indebted. Aren't you two brothers?" + +"Our father is the Thane of Aescendune. His hall is not far from here. +Will you not go home with us? We have plenty of room for you and yours." + +"To be sure I will. Aescendune? I have heard the name: I can't remember +where. Have you horses?" + +"No; we were hunting on foot, and expecting to let fly our shafts at +some deer. May I ask, in return, the name of our guest?" + +Before the youth could answer, one of the attendants strode forward, and +with an air of importance replied, "You are about to receive the honour +of a visit from the future lord of Britain, Prince Edwy." + +"Keep your lips closed till I give you leave to open them, Guthred. You +may leave me to announce myself. + +"I shall be only too glad to go with you both; and these two huntsmen +deserve to be left in the forest to the mercy of your wolves." + +Somewhat startled to find that they had saved the future Basileus or +King of Britain--the hope of the royal line of Cerdic--the brothers +led their guest through the darkening forest until the distant light of +a clearing appeared in the west, and they emerged from the shadow of the +trees upon the brow of a gentle hill. + +Below them lay the castle (if such it should be called) of their father +the Thane of Aescendune. Utterly unlike the castellated buildings which, +at a later period, formed the dwellings of the proud Norman nobility, it +was a low irregular building, the lower parts of which were of stone, +and the upper portions, when there was a second story, of thick timber +from the forest. + +A river, from which the evening mist was slowly rising, lay beyond, and +supplied water to a moat which surrounded the edifice, for in those +troublous times few country dwellings lacked such necessary protection. +The memory of the Danish invasions was too recent; the marauders of +either nation still lurked in the far recesses of the forest, and +plundered the Saxon inhabitant or the Danish settler indiscriminately, +as occasion served. + +On the inner side of the moat a strong palisade of timber completed the +defence. One portal, opening upon a drawbridge, formed the sole apparent +means of ingress or egress. + +Passing the drawbridge unquestioned, the boys entered the courtyard, +around which the chief apartments were grouped. Before them a flight of +stone steps led to the great hall where all the members of the community +took their meals in common, and where, around the great fire, they wiled +away the slow hours of a winter evening. + +On each side of the great hall stood the bowers, as the small +dormitories were called, furnished very simply for the use of the higher +domestics with small round tables, common stools, and beds in recesses +like boxes or cupboards. Such were commonly the only sleeping chambers, +but at Aescendune, as generally in the halls of the rich, a wide +staircase conducted to a gallery above, from each side of which opened +sleeping and sitting apartments allotted to the use of the family. It +was only in the houses of the wealthy that such an upper floor was found. + +On the right hand, as they entered the courtyard, stood the private +chapel of the household, where mass was said by the chaplain, to whom +allusion has been already made, as the first duty of the day, and where +each night generally saw the household again assembled for compline or +evening prayers.[iii] On the left hand were domestic offices. + +Upon the steps of his hall stood Ella, the Thane of Aescendune, the +representative of a long line of warlike ancestors, who had occupied the +soil since the Saxon conquest of Mercia. + +He was clad in a woollen tunic reaching to the knee, over which a cloak +fastened by a clasp of gold was loosely thrown; and his feet were clad +in black pointed boots, while strips of painted leather were wound over +red stockings from the knee to the ankle. + +"You are late, my sons," he said, "and I perceive you have brought us a +visitor. He is welcome." + +"Father," said Elfric, in a voice somewhat expressive of awe, "it is +Prince Edwy!" + +The thane had in his earlier days been at court, and had known the +murdered Edmund, the royal father of his guest, intimately. It was not +without emotion, therefore, that he welcomed the son to his home, and +saluted him with that manly yet reverential homage their relative +positions required of him. + +"Welcome, thrice welcome, my prince," he said, "to these humble halls." +He added, with some emotion, "I could think the royal Edmund stood +before me, as I knew him while yet myself a youth." + +The domestics, who had assembled, gazed upon their visitor with country +curiosity, yet were not wanting in rude but expressive courtesy; and +soon he was conducted to the best chamber the house afforded, where +change of raiment and every comfort within the reach of his host was +provided, while the cooks were charged to make sumptuous additions to +the approaching supper. + + + CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE OF AESCENDUNE. + +The earlier fortunes of the house of Aescendune must here obtrude +themselves upon the notice of the reader, in order that he may more +easily comprehend the subsequent pages of our veritable history. + +Sebbald, the remote ancestor of the family, was amongst the earliest +Saxon conquerors of Mercia. He fell in battle with the Britons, or +Welshmen as our ancestors called them, leaving sons valiant as their +sire, to whom were given the fertile lands lying between the river Avon +and the mighty midland forests, to which they gave the name "Aescendune." + +They had held their own for three hundred years with varying fortunes; +once or twice home and hearth were desolated by the fierce tide of +Danish invasion, but the wars subsided, and the old family resumed its +position, amidst the joy of their dependants and serfs, to whom they +were endeared by a thousand memories of past benefits. + +But a generation only had passed since the shadow of a great woe fell on +the family of Aescendune. + +Offa, who was then the thane, had two sons, Oswald the elder, and Ella +the younger, with whom our readers are already acquainted. + +The elder possessed few of the family virtues save brute courage. He was +ever rebellious, even in boyhood, and arrived at man's estate in the +midst of unsettled times of war and tumult. Weary of the restraints of +home, he joined a band of Danish marauders, and shared their victories, +enriching himself with the spoils of his own countrymen. Thus he +remained an outlaw, for his father disowned him in consequence of his +crime, until, fighting against his own people in the great battle of +Brunanburgh, [iv] where Athelstane so gloriously conquered the allied +Danes, Scots, and Welsh, he was taken prisoner. + +The victor king sat in judgment upon the recreant, surrounded by his +chief nobility and vassal kings. The guilt of the prisoner was evident, +nay undenied, and the respect in which his sire was held alone delayed +the doom of a cruel death from being pronounced upon him. + +While the council yet deliberated, Offa appeared amongst them, and, like +a second Brutus, took his place amongst his peers. Disclaiming all +personal interest in the matter, he sternly proposed that the claims of +justice should be satisfied. + +Yet they hesitated to shed Oswald's blood: the alternative they adopted +was perhaps not more merciful--although a common doom in those times. +They selected a crazy worm-eaten boat, and sent the criminal to sea, +without sail, oar, or rudder, with a loaf of bread and cruse of water, +the wind blowing freshly from off the land. + +Oswald was never heard of again; but after his supposed death, +information was brought to his father that the outlaw had been married +to a Danish woman, and had left a son--an orphan--for the mother +died in childbirth. + +Offa resolved to seek the boy, and to adopt him, as if in reparation for +the past. The effort he had made had cost him a bitter pang, and the +father's heart was well-nigh broken. For a time the inquiries were +unsuccessful. It was discovered that the mother was dead, that she had +died before the tragedy, but not a word could be learned respecting the +boy, and many had begun to doubt his existence, when, after years had +elapsed, one of the executioners of the cruel doom deposed on his +deathbed that a boy of some ten summers had appeared on the beach, had +called the victim "father," and had so persistently entreated to share +his doom, that they had allowed him to do so, but had concealed the +fact, rightly fearing blame, if not punishment. The priest who had +attended his dying bed, and heard his last confession, bore the tidings +to Offa at the penitent's desire. + +The old thane never seemed to lift up his head again: the sacrifice his +sense of duty had exacted from him had been too great for a heart +naturally full of domestic affection, and he sank and died after a few +months in the arms of his younger and beloved son Ella. + +The foundation of the neighbouring priory and church of St. Wilfred had +been the consolation of his later years, but the work was only half +completed at his death. It was carried on with equal zeal by Ella, now +the Thane of Aescendune. + +He married Edith, the daughter of a rich thane of Wessex, and the +marriage proved a most happy one. + +Sincerely religious, after the fashion of their day, they honoured God +with their substance, enriched the church of St. Wilfred, where the dust +of the aged Offa awaited the resurrection of the just, and continued the +labour of building the priory. Day after day they were constant in their +attendance at mass and evensong, and strove to live as foster parents to +their dependants and serfs. + +The chief man in his hundred, Ella acted as reeve or magistrate, holding +his court for the administration of justice each month, and giving such +just judgment as became one who had the fear of God before him. No +appeal was ever made from him to the ealdorman (earl) or scirgerefa +(sheriff) and the wisdom and mercy of his rule were universally renowned. + +His land was partly cultivated by his own theows, who were in those days +slaves attached to the soil, and partly let out to free husbandmen (or +ceorls) who owed their lord rent in kind or in money, and paid him, as +"his men," feudal service. + +Around his hospitable board the poor of the district found sustenance, +while work was made for all in draining meres, mending roads, building +the priory, or in the various agricultural labours of the year. + +In the first year of King Edmund the lady Edith presented her lord with +his first-born son, to whom in baptism they gave the name Elfric, and a +year later Alfred was born, and named after the great king. One +daughter, named Edgitha, completed the fruits of their happy union, and +in their simple fashion they strove to train their children in the fear +of the Lord. + +We will now resume the thread of our story. + +It was now the hour of eventide, and the time for "laying the board" +drew near. From forest and field came in ceorl and theow, hanging up +their weapons or agricultural implements around the lower end of the +hall. Meanwhile the domestics brought in large tressels, and then huge +heavy boards, which they arranged so as to form the dining table, shaped +like the letter T, the upper portion being furnished with the richest +dainties for the family and their guest, the lower with simpler fare for +the dependents. + +A wild boar caught in the forest formed the chief dish, and was placed +at the upper end, while mutton and beef; dressed in various ways, +flanked it on either side. + +The thane, Ella, occupied the central seat at the high table: his chair, +rudely carved, had borne the weight of his ancestors before him; on his +left hand was seated the once lovely Edith. Age had deprived her of her +youthful beauty, but not of the sweet expression which told of her +gentleness and purity of heart; they had left their impress on each line +of her speaking countenance; and few left her presence unimpressed with +respect and esteem. + +On his right hand sat Prince Edwy, "Edwy the fair" men called him, and +right well he deserved the name. His face was one which inspired +interest at a glance: his large blue eyes, his golden hair which floated +over his shoulders, his sweet voice, his graceful bearing, all united to +impress the beholders. + +Elfric, Alfred, and their sister Edgitha, completed the company at the +high table. + +The hungry crowd of ceorls and serfs, who were, as we have said, fresh +from field or forest, sat at the lower table, which was spread with huge +joints of roasted meat, loaves of bread, wedges of cheese, piles of +cabbage or other vegetables, rolls or coils of broiled eels, and huge +pieces of boiled pork or bacon. + +Around the table sat the hounds and other dogs, open jawed, waiting such +good luck as they might hope to receive at the hands of their masters, +while many "loaf eaters," as the serfs were called who fed at their +master's table, stood with the dogs, or sat on the rush-strewn floor, +for want of room at the board. + +It was marvellous to see how the food disappeared, as hand after hand +was stretched out to the dishes, in the absence of forks--a modern +invention--and huge horns of ale helped the meat downwards. + +Game, steaks of beef and venison on spits, were handed round. The +choicer joints were indeed reserved for the upper board, but profusion +was the rule everywhere throughout the hall, and there was probably not +a serf; nay, not even a dog, whose appetite was not fully satisfied +before the end of the feast. + +The prince seemed thoroughly to have recovered his spirits, somewhat +damped perhaps before by his adventure with the wolf; and exerted his +talents to make himself agreeable. He had seen life on an extended +scale, young as he was, and his anecdotes of London and the court, if a +little wild, were still interesting. Elfric and Alfred listened to his +somewhat random talk, with that respect boys ever pay to those who have +seen more of the wide world than themselves--a respect perhaps +heightened by the high rank of their princely guest, who was, however, +only a month or two older than Elfric. + +As they heard of the marvels of London, and of the court, home and its +attractions seemed to become dim by comparison, and Elfric especially +longed to share such happiness. + +Their father seemed to wish to change the conversation, as he asked the +prince whether he had been long in Mercia. + +Edwy replied, "Nay, my host; this is almost my first day of perfect +freedom, and I only left London, and my uncle the king, a few days back. +Dunstan has gone down to Glastonbury, for which the Saints be thanked, +and I am released for a few days from poring over the musty old +manuscripts to which he dooms me." + +"It is well, my prince, that you should have a preceptor so well +qualified to instruct you in the arts your great ancestor King Alfred so +nobly adorned." + +"Ah yes, Alfred," said Edwy, yawning; "but you know we can't all be +saints or heroes like him: for my part, I sometimes wish he had never +lived." + +The astonished looks of the company seemed to demand further explanation. + +"Because it is always, 'Alfred did this,' and 'Alfred did that.' If I am +tired of '_hic, haec, hoc_,' I am told Alfred was never weary; if I +complain of a headache, Dunstan says Alfred never complained of pain or +illness, but bore all with heroic fortitude, and all the rest of it. If +I want a better dinner than my respected uncle gives us on fast days in +the palace, I am told Alfred never ate anything beyond a handful of +parched corn on such days; if I lose my temper, I am told Alfred never +lost his; and so on, till I get sick of his name; and here it greets me +in the woods of Mercia." + +"I crave pardon, my liege," said Ella, who hardly knew whether to smile +or frown at the sarcastic petulance of his guest, who went on with a sly +smile--"And now old Dunstan does not know where I am. He left me with +a huge pile of books in musty Latin, or crabbed English, and I had to +read this and to write that, as if I were no prince, but a scrivener, +and had to get my living by my pen; but as soon as he was gone I had a +headache, and persuaded my venerable uncle the king, through the +physician, that I needed change of air." + +"But what will Dunstan say?" + +"Oh, he must fight it out with Sigebert the leech, and Sigebert knows +which side his bread is buttered." + +The whole tone of Edwy indicated plainly that the headache was but a +pretence, but he spoke with such sly simplicity that the boys could not +help joining in his contagious laughter; sympathising, doubtless, in his +love of a holiday in the woods. + +"Your headache is not gone yet, I trust, my prince," said Elfric. + +"Why?" said Edwy, turning his eyes upon him with a smile. + +"Because we have splendid woods near here for hunting, and I must have" +(he whispered these words into Edwy's ear) "a headache, too." + +Edwy quite understood the request conveyed in these words, and turning +to the old thane requested him to allow his boys to join the sport on +the morrow as a kind of bodyguard, adding some very complimentary words +on the subject of Elfric's courage shown in the rescue that afternoon. + +"Why, yes," said the old thane, "I have always tried to bring up the +boys so as to fear neither man nor beast, and Elfric did indifferently +well in the tussle. So he has earned a holiday for himself and brother, +with Father Cuthbert's leave," and Ella turned to the ecclesiastic. + +"They are good boys," said the priest, "only, my lord, Elfric is +somewhat behind in his studies." + +Elfric's looks expressed his contempt of the "studies," but he dared not +express the feeling before his father. + +"But I trust, my prince," said Ella, "that we shall not keep you from +your duties at court. Dunstan is a severe, although a holy man." + +"Oh, he is gone to have another encounter with the Evil One at +Glastonbury, and is fashioning a pair of tongs for the purpose," said +Edwy, alluding to the legend already current amongst the credulous +populace; "and I wish," he muttered, "the Evil One would get the best of +it and fly away with him. But" (in a louder tone) "he cannot return for +a month, which means a month's holiday for me." + +Ella could interpose no further objection, although scarcely satisfied +with the programme. + +The conversation here became general. It turned upon the subject of +hunting and war, and the enthusiasm of young Edwy quite captivated the +thane, who seemed to see Edmund, the father of the young prince, before +his eyes, as he had known him in his own impetuous youth. Dear, indeed, +had that prince been to Ella, both before and after his elevation to the +throne, and as he heard the sweet boyish voice of Edwy, his thoughts +were guided by memory to that ill-omened feast at Pucklechurch, where +the vindictive outlaw Leolf had murdered his king. The sword of Ella had +been amongst those which avenged the crime on the murderer, but they +could not call back the vital spark which had fled. "Edmund the +Magnificent," as they loved to call him, was dead. [v] + +So, as Ella listened, he could hardly help condoning the wild speeches +of the young prince in deference to the memory of the past. + +And now they removed the festive board from the hall, while kneeling +serfs offered basin and towel to the thane and his guest to wash their +hands. Wine began to circulate freely in goblets of wood inlaid with +gold or silver; the clinking of cups, the drinking of healths and +pledges opened the revel, cupbearers poured out the wine. The glee-wood +(harp) was introduced, while pipes, flutes, and soft horns accompanied +its strains. So they sang-- + +Here Athelstane king, +Of earls the lord, +To warriors the ring-giver +Glory world-long +Had won in the strife, +By edge of the sword, +At Brunanburgh. + +And Ella--who had stood by his father's side in that dread field where +Danes, Scots, and Welshmen fled before the English sword--listened +with enthusiasm, till he thought of his brother Oswald, when tears, +unobserved, rolled down his cheeks. + +Not so with the boys. They had no secret sorrow to hide, and they +listened like those whose young blood boils at the thought of mighty +deeds, and longed to imitate them. And when the gleeman finished his +lengthy flight of music and poesy, they applauded him till the roof rang +again. + +Song followed song, legend legend, the revelry grew louder, while the +lady Edith, with her daughter, retired to their bower, where they +employed their needles on delicate embroidery. A representation in +bright colours of the consecration of the church of St. Wilfred occupied +the hands of the little Edgitha, while her mother wove sacred pictures +to serve as hangings for the sanctuary of the priory church. + +But soon the tolling of the bell announced that it was the compline +hour, nine o'clock, and that hour was never allowed to pass unobserved +at Aescendune, but formed the termination of the labour or the feast, +after which it was customary for the whole household to retire, as well +they might who rose with the early dawn. + +Neither was it passed by on this occasion, although the boys looked very +disappointed, for they would fain have listened to song or legend till +midnight, if not later. + +"Come, my children," said the thane; "we must rise early, so let us all +commit ourselves to the keeping of God and His holy angels, and seek our +pillows." + +So the whole party repaired to the chapel, where the chaplain said the +compline office or night song, after which Ella saluted his royal guest +with reverent affection, and bestowed his paternal benediction upon his +children. Then the whole party separated for the night. + +The household was speedily buried in sleep, save the solitary sentinel +who paced around the building. Not that danger was apprehended from any +source, but precaution had become habitual in those days of turmoil. +Occasionally the howl of the wolf was heard from the woods, and the +sleepers half awoke, then dreamt of the chase as the night flew by. + + + CHAPTER III. LEAVING HOME. + +The sun arose in a bright and cloudless sky on the following morning, +and his first beams aroused every sleeper in the hall of Aescendune from +his couch of straw, for softer material was seldom or never used for +repose. Even the chamber in which the prince slept could not be called +luxurious: the bed was in a box-like recess; its coverlets, worked +richly by the fair hands of the ladies, who had little other occupation, +covered a mattress which even modern schoolboys would call rough and +uncomfortable. + +The wind played with the tapestry which represented the history of +Joseph and his brethren, as it found its way in through crevices in the +ill-built walls. There were two or three stools over which the thane's +care for his guest had caused coverlets to be thrown; a round table of +rough construction stood like a tripod on three legs, upon which stood +the unwonted luxury of ewer and basin, for most people had to perform +their ablutions at the nearest convenient well or spring. + +Leaving this chamber in good time, Prince Edwy acompanied his new +friends to the priory church, where they heard mass before the sun was +high in the heavens, after which they returned to the hall to take a +light breakfast before they sought the attractions of the chase in the +forest. Full of life they mounted their horses, and galloped in the wild +exuberance of animal spirits with their dogs through the leafy arches of +the forest, startling the red deer, the wolf, or the wild boar. Soon +they roused a mighty individual of the latter tribe, who turned to bay, +when the boys dismounted and finished the affair with their boar spears, +not without some personal danger, and the loss of a couple of dogs. + +Onward again they swept, past leafy glades of beech trees, where the +swineherd drove his half-tame charges, or where the woodcutters plied +their toil, and loaded their rude carts or hand barrows with fuel for +the kitchen of the hall; past rookeries, where the birds made the air +lively by their noise; over brook, through the half-dry marsh, until +they came upon an old wolf; whom they followed and slew for want of +better game, not without a desperate struggle, in which Elfric, ever the +foremost, got a much worse scratch than on the preceding day. + +But how enjoyable the sport was, how sweet to breathe the bright pure +air of that May day; how grand to outstrip the wind over the yielding +turf, and at last to carry home the trophies of their prowess; the scalp +of the wolf, the tusks of the boar, leaving the serfs to bring in the +succulent flesh of the latter, while the hawks and crows fed upon the +former. + +And then with what appetite they sat down to their "noon meat," taken, +however, at the late hour of three, after which they wandered down to +the river and angled for the trout which abounded in the clear stream. + +The youthful reader will not wonder that such attractions sufficed to +detain Edwy several days, during which he was continually hunting in the +adjacent forests, always attended by Elfric, and sometimes by Alfred. To +the elder brother he seemed to have conceived a real liking, and +expressed great reluctance to part with him. + +"Could you not return with me to court," he said, "and relieve the +tedium of old Dunstan's society? You cannot think what pleasures London +affords; it is life there indeed--it is true there are no forests like +these, but then, in the winter, when the country is so dreary, the town +is the place." + +"My father will never consent to my leaving home," returned Elfric, who +inwardly felt his heart was with the prince. + +"We might overcome that. I am to have a page. You might be nominally my +page, really my companion; and should I ever be king, you would find you +had not served me in vain." + +The idea had got such strong possession of the mind of Edwy, that he +ventilated it the same night at the supper table, but met with scant +encouragement. Still he did not despair; for, as he told Elfric, the +influence of his royal uncle, King Edred, might be hopefully exerted on +their joint behalf. + +"I mean to get you to town," he said. "I shall persuade my old uncle, +who is more a monk than a king, that you are dreadfully pious, attached +to monkish Latin, and all that sort of thing, so that he will long to +get you to town, if it is only to set an example to me." + +"But if he does not find that I answer his expectations?" + +"Oh, it will be too late to alter then; you will be comfortably +installed in the palace; and, between you and me, he is but old and +feeble, and has always had a disease of some kind. I expect he will soon +die, and then who will be king save Edwy, and who in England shall be +higher than his friend Elfric?" + +It was a brilliant prospect, as it seemed to boys of fifteen, for such +was the mature age of the speakers. + +Shortly after the last conversation, an express came from the court to +seek the young prince--the messenger had been long delayed from +ignorance of the present abode of Edwy, who had carefully concealed the +secret until he felt he could tarry no longer, fearing the wrath not +only of the king, but of Dunstan, whom he dreaded yet more than his uncle. + +So he and his attendants, who had, like him, found pleasant +entertainment at Aescendune, bade farewell to the home where he had been +so hospitably entertained: and so ended a visit, pregnant with the most +important results, then utterly unforeseen and unintended, to the family +he had honoured by his presence. + +Some few weeks passed, and under the tuition of their chaplain, who was +charged with their education, Elfric and Alfred had returned to their +usual course of life. + +It would seem somewhat a hard one to a lover of modern ease. They rose +early, as we have already seen, and before breaking their fast went with +their father and most of the household to the early mass at the +monastery of St. Wilfred, returned to an early meal, and then worked +hard, on ordinary occasions at their Latin, and such other studies as +were pursued in that primitive age of England. The midday meal was +succeeded by somewhat severe bodily exercise, generally hunting the boar +or wolf which still abounded in the forests, an excitement not +unattended by danger, which, however, their father would never permit +them to shun. He knew full well the importance of personal courage at an +age when the dangers of hunting were only initiatory to the stern duties +of war, and no Englishman could shun the latter when his country called +upon him to take up arms. Nor were martial exercises unknown to the +boys; the bow, it is true, was somewhat neglected then in England, but +the use of sword, shield, and battle-axe was daily inculcated. + +"_Si vis pacem_," Father Cuthbert said on such occasions, "_para arma._" + +Wearied by their exertions, whether at home or abroad, the brothers +welcomed the evening social meal, and the rest which followed, when old +Saxon legend or the harp of the gleeman enlivened the household fire, +till compline sweetly closed the day. + +Swiftly and pleasantly were passing the weeks succeeding the visit of +the prince, when a royal messenger appeared, bearing a letter sealed +with the king's signet. The old thane, who had passed his youth in more +troublous times, and could scarcely read the Anglo-Saxon version of the +Gospels, then extant, could not construe the monkish Latin in which it +was King Edred's good pleasure to write. + +So the chaplain, Cuthbert, read him the letter in which the king greeted +his loyal and well-beloved subject, Ella of Aescendune, and begged of +him, as a great favour, that he would send his eldest boy to court, to +be the companion of the young prince, who had (the king said) conceived +a great affection for Elfric. + +"I hear," added Edred, "that your boy is a boy after his father's heart, +full of love for the saints, diligent in his studies, and I trust well +qualified to amend by example the somewhat giddy ways of my nephew." + +Ella felt that this latter commendation might be better bestowed upon +Alfred, who, although far less full of boyish spirit and energy than his +brother, was far more attached to his religious duties, as also far more +attentive to the wishes of his parents; but his love for Elfric blinded +him to more serious defects in the character of his son, or he might +have feared their development in a congenial soil. + +So the father saw his boy alone, and communicated the contents of the +letter. The news was indeed welcome to Elfric, who panted for travel and +adventure and the freedom he fancied he should get in Edwy's society. +But Ella hardly perceived this, and enlarged upon the dangers to which +his son would be exposed, and tried to put before the boy all the "pros +" and "cons" of the question faithfully. + +"He would not keep him back," he said, "if he desired to leave home," +but as he uttered the words he felt his heart very heavy, for Aescendune +would lose half its brightness in losing Elfric. + +But Elfric's choice was already made, and he only succeeded in +repressing his delight with great difficulty, in deference to the +serious aspect and words of his revered sire. But his decision, for it +was left to him, was unchanged, and he stammered forth his desire to be +a man, and to see the world, in words mingled with expressions of his +deep love for his parents, which he was sure nothing could ever change. + +Strange to say, now that the parental consent was gained, and no +obstacle lay between him and the accomplishment of his ardent wish, he +did not feel half so happy as he had expected to feel. Home affections +seemed to increase as the hours rushed by which were to be his last in +the bosom of his family; every familiar object became precious as the +thought arose that it might be seen for the last time; favourites, both +men and animals, had to be bidden farewell. There was the old forester, +the gleeman, the warder, the gardener, the chamberlain, the cellarius, +the cook (not an unimportant personage in Saxon households), the foster +mother, his old nurse, and many a friend in the village. Then there were +his favourite dogs, his pony, some pigeons he had reared; and all had +some claim on his affection, home nurtured as he had been in a most +kindly household. + +But the appointed day came, the horse which was to bear him away stood +at the door, another horse loaded with his personal effects stood near, +for carriages were then unknown, neither would the roads have permitted +their use, so changed were the times since the Roman period. + +His father and mother, his brother and sister, stood without the +drawbridge, where the last goodbye took place; tears started unbidden to +his eyes--he was only fifteen--as he heard the parting blessing, and +as his mother pressed him to her bosom. + +Alfred and his sister Edith seemed almost broken hearted at the parting. +But Elfric tried to bear up, and the end came. + +The little cavalcade left the castle, two attendants, well armed and +mounted, being his bodyguard. + +Again and again he looked back; and when, after a journey of two miles, +the envious woods closed in, and hid the dear familiar home from his +sight, a strange sense of desolation rushed upon him, as if he were +alone in the world. + +The route taken by the cavalcade led them in the first place to Warwick, +even then a flourishing Saxon town: this was the limit of Elfric's +previous wanderings, and when they left it for the south, the whole +country was strange to him. + +The royal messenger had business at the cathedral city of Dorchester, at +the junction of the Tame and Isis, and they did not take the more direct +route by the Watling Street, the most perfect Roman road remaining. The +land was but thinly peopled, forests covered the greater portion, and +desolate marshes much of the remainder; thus, through alternate forest +and marsh, the travellers advanced along the ruinous remains of an old +Roman crossroad, which had once afforded good accommodation to +travellers, but had been suffered to fall into utter ruin and decay by +the neglect of their successors, our own barbarous ancestors. + +Originally it had been paved with stone, and causeways had been formed +over marsh and mere, but the stones had been taken away, for the road +formed the most accessible quarry in the neighbourhood. Here and there, +however, it was still good, surviving the wear of centuries, and even +the old mileposts of iron were still existing covered with rust, with +the letters denoting so many Roman miles--or thousands of paces-- +still legible. + +A few hours' riding from Warwick brought them at the close of the day in +sight of Beranbyrig (Banbury), where three centuries earlier a bloody +battle had been fought, [vi] wherein success--almost for the last time +--visited the British arms, and saved the Celtic race from expulsion +for twenty years. + +The spot was very interesting to Elfric, for here his ancestor Sebbald +had fought by the side of the invading king, Cynric, the son of Cerdic, +and had fallen "gloriously" on the field. + +"Look," said Anlaf, the guide, "at that sloping ground which rises to +the northwest. There the Welsh (Britons) stood, formed in nine strong +battalions. In that hollow they placed their archers, and here their +javelin men and cavalry were arranged after the old Roman fashion. Our +Englishmen were all in one battalion, and charged them fiercely, when +they were thrown into confusion by the cunning tricks of the Welsh, who +made up in craft what they wanted in manly courage. + +"Look at this brook which flows to the river, it was running with blood +that evening, and our men lay piled in huge heaps where they tried to +scale the hill which you see yonder." + +"And did the Welsh gain the day so easily?" said Elfric, sorrowfully. + +"I don't wonder; they were fighting for their lives, and even a rat will +fight if you get him into a corner; besides, they had all their best men +here." + +"Do you know where Sebbald fell?" said Elfric, referring to his own +ancestor. + +"Just under this hillock, close by King Cynric, who fought like a lion +to save the body, but was unable to do so. The Welsh were then gaining +the day. Still, even his foes respected his valour, and gave your +forefather a fair and honourable burial." + +Leaving the battlefield, they entered the Saxon town, which was defended +on one side by the Cherwell, on the other by a mound and palisade, with +an outer ditch supplied by the river. Here they found hospitable +entertainment, and left on the morrow for the town of Kirtlington. + +They left Beranbyrig early, and reached the village of Sutthun (King's +Sutton), where they perceived a great multitude of people collected +around a well at the outskirts of the village. + +"What are these people doing?" asked Elfric. + +"Oh, do you not know?" replied Anlaf. "This is St. Rumbald's well," and +he crossed himself piously. + +"Who was St. Rumbald?" asked Elfric innocently. + +"Oh, he was son of the king of Northumbria, and of his queen, the +daughter of the old king Penda of Mercia, and the strange thing is that +he is a saint although he only lived three days." + +"How could that be?" + +"Why it was a miracle, you see. On the day after his birth he was taken +to Braceleam (Brackley), where he was baptized, and after his baptism he +actually preached an eloquent sermon to the people. They brought him +back to Sutthun next day, where he died, having first blessed this well, +so that many precious gifts of healing are shown thereat. His relics +were removed first to Braceleam, then to Buccingaham (Buckingham), where +his shrine is venerated by the faithful. But come, you must drink of the +holy water." + +So they approached the spot, and, after much labour to get at the well, +drank of the water, which had a brackish taste, and proceeded on their +journey southward through Kirtlington, then a considerable city, +although now a small village. It was their intention to pass by the +cathedral city of Dorchester, where Wulfstan was then bishop, where they +arrived on the second night of their journey. + +It was the largest city Elfric had as yet seen, possessing several +churches, of which only one now remains. The hand of the ruthless Danes +had not yet been laid heavily upon it, and the magnificence of the +sacred fanes, built by cunning architects from abroad, amazed the +Mercian boy. + +There was the tomb of the great Birinus, the apostle of Mercia, who had +founded the see in the year 630 A.D., and to whose shrine multitudes of +pilgrims flocked each year. But the remains of Roman greatness most +astonished Elfric. The ruins of the amphitheatre situate near the river +Tame were grand even in their decay, and all the imaginative faculties +of the boy were aroused, as one of the most learned inhabitants +described the scenes of former days, of which tradition had been +preserved, the gladiatorial combats, the wild beast fights. + +The heir of Aescendune found hospitality at the episcopal palace, where +Wulfstan,[vii] once the turbulent Archbishop of York, held his court. +The prelate seemed favourably impressed with his youthful guest, whom +he dismissed with a warm commendation to Dunstan. + +They left the city early in the morning, and passed through Baenesington +(Benson), which having been originally taken from the Welsh by the Saxon +chieftain Cuthulf, in the year 571, became the scene of the great +victory of Offa, the Mercian king, over Cynewulf of Wessex in the year +777. One of Elfric's ancestors had fought on the side of Offa, and the +exploits of this doughty warrior had formed the subject of a ballad +often sung in the winter evenings at Aescendune, so that Elfric explored +the scene with great curiosity. Inferior to Dorchester, it was still a +considerable town. + +Late at night they reached Reading, where they slept, and started early +on the morrow for London, where they arrived on the evening of the +fourth day. + + + CHAPTER IV. LONDON IN THE OLDEN TIME. + +London, in the days of King Edred, differed widely from the stately and +populous city we know in these days, and almost as widely from the +elegant "_Colonia Augusta_," or Londinium, of the Roman period. Narrow, +crooked, and unpaved lanes wound between houses, or rather lowly +cottages, built of timber, and roofed with thatch, so that it is not +wonderful that a conflagration was an event to be dreaded. + +Evidence met the eye on every side how utterly the first Englishmen had +failed to preserve the cities they had conquered, and how far inferior +they were in cultivation, or rather civilisation, to the softer race +they had so ruthlessly expelled; for on every side broken pedestal and +shattered column appeared clumsily imbedded in the rude domestic +architecture of our forefathers. + +St. Paul's Cathedral rose on the hill once sacred to Diana but was +wholly built within the ruins of the vast temple which had once occupied +the site, and which, magnificent in decay, still surrounded it like an +outwork. Further on were the wrecks of the citadel, where once the stern +legionary had watched by day and night, and where Roman discipline and +order had held sway, while the wall raised by Constantine, broken and +imperfect, still rose on the banks of the river. Near the Ludgate was +the palace of the Saxon king, and the ruins of an aqueduct overshadowed +its humbler portal, while without the walls the river Fleet rolled, +amidst vineyards and pleasant meadows dotted with houses, to join the +mighty Thames. + +Edred, the reigning king of England, was the brother of the murdered +Edmund, and, in accordance with the custom of the day, had ascended the +throne on the death of his brother, seeing that the two infant sons of +the late king, Edwy and Edgar, were too young to reign, and the idea of +hereditary right was not sufficiently developed in the minds of our +forefathers to suggest the notion of a regency. It must also be +remembered that, within certain limits, there was an elective power in +the Witenagemot or Parliament, although generally limited in its scope +to members of the royal family. + +Edred was of very delicate constitution, and suffered from an inward +disease which seldom allowed him an interval of rest and ease. Like so +many sufferers he had found his consolation in religion, and the only +crime ever laid to his charge (if it were a crime) was that he loved the +Church too much. Still he had repeatedly proved that he was strong in +purpose and will, and the insurgent Danes who had settled in Northumbria +had owned his prowess. In the internal affairs of his kingdom he was +chiefly governed by the advice of the great ecclesiastic and statesman, +with whose name our readers will shortly become familiar. + +Upon the morning after the arrival of Elfric in London, Edwy, the young +prince, and his new companion, sat in a room on the upper floor of the +palace, which had but two floors, and would have been considered in +these days very deficient in architectural beauty. + +The window of the room opened upon the river, and commanded a pleasant +view of the woods and meadows on the Surrey side, then almost +uninhabited, being completely unprotected in case of invasion, a +contingency never long absent from the mind in the days of the sea kings. + +A table covered with manuscripts, both in Latin and Anglo-Saxon, +occupied the centre of the room, and there Elfric was seated, looking +somewhat aimlessly at a Latin vocabulary, while Edwy was standing +listlessly at the window. The "library," if it deserved the name, was +very unlike a modern library; books were few, and yet very expensive, so +that perhaps there was no fuller collection in any layman's house in the +kingdom. There were Alfred's translations into Anglo-Saxon, the +"_Chronicle of Orosius_," or the history of the World; the "_History of +the Venerable Bede_," both in his original Latin and in English; +Boethius on the "_Consolations of Philosophy_;" narratives from ancient +mythology; extracts from the works of St. Augustine and St. Gregory; and +the Apologues or Fables from Aesop.[viii] + +"Oh, put those stupid books aside," exclaimed the prince; "this is your +first day in town, and I mean to take a holiday; that surly old Dunstan +should have left word to that effect last night." + +"Will he not be here soon?" + +"Yes, he is coming this morning, the old bear, to superintend my +progress, and I wish him joy thereof." + +"What has he given you to do?" inquired Elfric. + +"Why, a wretched exercise to write out. There, you see it before you; +isn't it a nuisance?" + +"It is not very hard, is it?" + +"Don't you think it hard? See whether you can do it!" + +Elfric smiled, and wrote out the simple Latin with ease, for he had been +well instructed by Father Cuthbert at Aescendune. + +He had scarcely finished when a firm step was heard upon the stairs. + +"Hush," said Edwy; "here comes Dunstan. Be sure you look solemn enough," +and he composed his own countenance into an expression of preternatural +gravity. + +The door opened, and an ecclesiastic in the prime of life entered the +room, one whose mien impressed the beholder with an indefinable awe. + +He was dressed in the Benedictine habit, just then becoming common in +England, and his features were those of a man formed by nature to +command, while they reconciled the beholder to the admission of the fact +by the sad yet sweet smile which frequently played on the shapely +countenance. He was now in the thirtieth year of his age, having been +born in the first year of King Athelstane, and had been abbot of +Glastonbury for several years, although his services as counsellor to +King Edred had led him to spend much of his time in town, and he had +therefore accepted the general direction of the education of the heir to +the throne. Such was Dunstan. + +He seemed but little welcome to Edwy, and the benediction with which he +greeted his pupil was but coldly received. + +Not appearing to notice this, he mildly said, "You must introduce your +young companion to me, my prince. Am I not right in concluding that I +see before me Elfric, heir to the lands of Aescendune?" + +Elfric blushed as he bent the knee to the great churchman to receive the +priestly benediction with which he was greeted, but remained silent. + +"Father Cuthbert, whom I knew well years agone, has told me about you, +and your brother Alfred; is not that his name?" + +"He is so named, my father." + +"I am glad to perceive that my royal pupil has chosen so meet a +companion, for Father Cuthbert speaks well of your learning. You write +the Latin tongue, he tells me, with some little facility." + +Elfric feared his powers had been overrated. + +"I trust you have resumed your studies after your long holiday," +continued Dunstan. "Youth is the season for sowing, age for reaping." + +"I have had a very bad headache," said Edwy, "and have only been able to +write a page of Latin. Here it is, father." + +And he extended the exercise Elfric had written to the abbot, who looked +at the writing for one moment, and then glanced severely at the prince. +The character was very like his own, but there was a difference. + +"Is this your handwriting, Prince Edwy?" he asked. + +"Of course. Elfric saw me write it, did you not?" + +Elfric was not used to falsehood; he could not frame his lips to say "Yes." + +Dunstan observed his confusion, and he turned to the prince with a look +in which contempt seemed to struggle with passive self-possession. + +"I trust, Edwy," he said, "you will remember that the word of a king is +said to be his bond, and so should the word of a prince be if he ever +hopes to reign. I shall give Father Benedict charge to superintend your +studies as usual." + +He wished them a grave good morning, and left the room. + +As soon as the last sound of his steps had ceased, Edwy turned sharply +to Elfric--"Why did you not say yes at once? Surely you have a tongue?" + +"It has never learnt to lie." + +"Pooh! What is the harm of such a white lie as that would have been? If +you cannot give the credit of a Latin exercise, which you happen to have +written, to your future king, you must be selfish; it is my writing, if +you give it me, isn't it?" + +Elfric did not quite see the matter in that light, yet did not care to +dispute the point; but his conscience was ill at ease, and he was glad +to change the subject. + +"When can we go out?" he said, for he was anxious to see the city. + +"Oh, not till after the midday meal, and you must see the palace first; +come now." + +So they descended and traversed the various courts of the building; the +dormitories, the great dining hall, the audience chambers where Edred +was then receiving his subjects, who waited in the anteroom, which alone +the two boys ventured to enter. Finally, after traversing several courts +and passages, they reached the guardroom. + +Three or four of the "hus-carles" or household guards were here on duty. +But in the embrasure of the window, poring over a map, sat one of very +different mien from the common soldiers, and whose air and manner, no +less than his dress, proclaimed the officer. + +"Redwald," said the prince, advancing to the window, "let me make you +acquainted with my friend and companion, Elfric of Aescendune." + +The officer started, as if with some sudden surprise, but it passed away +so quickly that the beholder might fancy the start had only existed in +imagination, as perhaps it did. + +"This gallant warrior," said Edwy to Elfric, "is my friend and +counsellor in many ways; and if he lives there shall not be a thane in +England who shall stand above him. You will soon find out his value, +Elfric." + +"My prince is pleased to flatter his humble servant," said Redwald. + +But Elfric was gazing upon the soldier with feelings he could scarcely +analyse. There was something in his look and the tone of his voice which +struck a hidden chord, and awoke recollections as if of a previous +existence. + +"Redwald," as Edwy named him, was tall and dark, with many of the +characteristics of the Danish race about him. His nose was slightly +aquiline, his eyes hid beneath bushy eyebrows, while his massive jaw +denoted energy of character--energy which one instinctively felt was +quite as likely to be exerted for evil as for good. + +He was captain of the hus-carles, and had but recently entered the royal +service. Few knew his lineage. He spoke the Anglo-Saxon tongue with +great fluency, and bore testimonials certifying his valour and +faithfulness from the court of Normandy, where the Northmen under Rollo +had some half-century earlier founded a flourishing state, then ruled +over by the noble Duke "Richard the Fearless." + +Edwy seemed to be on intimate terms with this soldier of fortune; in +fact, with all his proud anticipation of his future greatness, he was +never haughty to his inferiors, perhaps we should say seldom, for we +shall hereafter note exceptions to this rule. It would be a great +mistake to suppose that the pomp and ceremony of our Norman kings was +shared by their English predecessors: the manners and customs of the +court of Edred were simplicity itself. + +After a few moments of private conversation with Redwald, the boys +returned to their chamber to prepare for dinner. + +"You noted that man," said Edwy; "well, I don't know how I should live +without him." + +Elfric's looks expressed surprise. + +"You will find out by and by; you have little idea how strictly we are +kept here, and how much one is indebted to one's servants for the gift +of liberty, especially in Lent and on fast days, when one does not get +half enough to eat, and must sometimes escape the gloom and starvation +of the palace." + +"Starvation?" + +"What else do you call it, when you get nothing but fish, fish, fish, +and bread and water to help it down. My uncle is awfully religious. I +can hardly stand it sometimes. He would like to spend half the day in +chapel, but, happily for all the rest of us, the affairs of state are +too urgent for that, so we do get a little breathing time, or else I +should have to twist my mouth all of one side singing dolorous chants +and tunes which are worse than a Danish war whoop, for he likes, he +says, to hear the service hearty." + +"But it helps you on with your Latin." + +"Not much of that, for I sing anything that comes into my head; the +singing men make such a noise, they can hear no one else, and I fancy +they don't know what a word of the Latin prayers means." + +"But isn't it irreverent--too irreverent, I mean. Father Cuthbert made +me afraid to mock God, he told such stories about judgment." + +"All fudge and nonsense--oh, I beg your pardon, it is all very godly +and pious, and really I expect to be greatly edified by your piety in +chapel. Pray, when shall you be canonised?" + +Elfric could not bear ridicule, and blushed for the second time that +morning. Just then the bell rang for dinner, or rather was struck with a +mallet by the master of the ceremonies. + +King Edred dined that day, as one might say, in the bosom of his family; +only Dunstan was present, besides the boys Edwy, Edgar his younger +brother, and Elfric. It was then that Elfric first saw the younger +prince, a pale studious-looking boy of twelve, but with a very firm and +intellectual expression of countenance. He was a great favourite with +Dunstan, whom the boy, unlike his brother, regarded with the greatest +respect and reverence. + +The conversation was somewhat stiff; Edred spoke a few kind words to the +young stranger, and then conversed in an undertone with Dunstan, the +whole dinner time; the princes themselves were awed by the presence of +their uncle and his spiritual guide. + +But at last, like all other things, it was over, and with feelings of +joy the boys broke forth from the restraint. The whole afternoon was +spent in seeing the sights of London, and they all three, for Edgar +accompanied them, returned to the evening meal, fatigued in body, but in +high spirits. Compline in the royal chapel terminated the day, as mass +had begun it. + + + CHAPTER V. TEMPTATION. + +But a few days had passed before Elfric learned the secret of Redwald's +influence over the young prince. + +The household of Edred was conducted with the strictest propriety.[ix] +All rose with the lark, and the first duty was to attend +at the early mass in the royal chapel. Breakfast followed, and then the +king on ordinary days gave the whole forenoon to business of state, and +he thought it his duty to see that each member of the royal household +had some definite employment, knowing that idleness was the mother of +many evils. So the young princes had their tasks assigned them by their +tutor, as we have already seen, and the spare hours which were saved +from their studies were given to such practice in the use of the +national weapons as seemed necessary to those who might hereafter lead +armies, or to gymnastic exercises which strengthened nerve and muscle +for a time of need. + +In the afternoon they might ride or walk abroad, but a strict interdict +was placed upon certain haunts where temptation might perchance be +found, and they had to return by evensong, which the king generally +attended in person when at home. Then, in winter, indoor recreations +till compline, for it was a strict rule of the king that his nephews +should not leave the palace after sundown. + +He further caused their tutor, who directed their education under the +supervision of Dunstan--Father Benedict--whom we have already +introduced, to see that they properly discharged all the duties of +public and private devotion. + +But he did not see, in the excess of his zeal, that he was really +destroying the prospects which were nearest his heart, and that there +can be no more fatal mistake than to compel the performance of religious +duties which exceed the measure of the youthful capacity or endurance. + +With Edgar, who was naturally pious, the system produced no evil result; +but with Edwy the effect was most sad. He had become, as we have seen, +deceitful; and a character, naturally fair, was undermined to an extent +which neither the king nor Dunstan suspected. + +The reader may naturally ask how could Dunstan, so astute as he was, +make this mistake, or at least suffer Edred to make it? + +The fact was that Dunstan understood the affairs of state better than +those of the heart, and although well fitted for a guide to men of +sincere piety, and capable of opposing to the wicked an iron will and +inflexible resolution, he did not understand the young, and seemed to +have forgotten his own youth. Sincerely truthful and straightforward, he +hardly knew whether to feel more disgust or surprise at Edwy's evident +unfaithfulness. He little knew that unfaithfulness was only one of his +failings, and not the worst. + +A few nights after Elfric's arrival, when the palace gates had been shut +for the night, the compline service said, the household guard posted, +and the boys had retired to their sleeping apartments, he heard a low +knock at his door. He opened it, and Edwy entered. + +"Are you disposed for a pleasant evening, Elfric?" + +"Such pleasure as there is in sleep." + +"No, I do not mean that. We cannot sleep, like bears in winter, during +all the hours which should be given to mirth. I am going out this +evening, and I want you to go with me." + +"Going out?" + +"Yes. Don't stand staring there, as if I was talking Latin or something +harder; but get your shoes on again-- + +"No; you had better come down without shoes; it will make less noise." + +"But how can we get out? I have not the least idea where you are going?" + +"All in good time. We shall get out easily enough. Are you coming?" + +Half fearful, yet not liking to resist the prince, and his curiosity +pressing him to solve the secret, Elfric followed Edwy down the stairs +to the lower hall, where Redwald was on guard. He seemed to await the +lads, for he bowed at once to the prince and proceeded to the outer +door, where, at an imperious signal from him, the warder threw the +little inner portal open, and the three passed out. + +"Is the boat ready?" said Edwy. + +"It is; and trusty rowers await you." + +Redwald led the way to the river's brink, and there pointed out a skiff +lying at a short distance from the shore. At a signal, the men who +manned it pulled in and received the two youths on board, then pulled at +once out into the stream. + +"How do you like an evening on the river?" said Edwy. + +"It is very beautiful, and the stars are very bright tonight; but where +are we going?" + +"You will soon find out." + +Finding his royal companion so uncommunicative, Elfric remained silent, +trusting that a few minutes would unravel the mystery. + +But an hour had passed, during which the boat steadily progressed up +stream, before the watermen pulled in for the shore, and a dark building +loomed before them in dim shadow. + +"Here is the place," said Edwy. "Be ready, my men, to take us back about +midnight, or a little later;" and he threw some pieces of money amongst +them. + +Passing through a large garden, they arrived at a porch before a stout +door garnished with knobs of iron, which might bid defiance to thief or +burglar. + +"Whose house is this?" asked Elfric. + +"Wait; you shall soon see." + +The loud knocking Edwy made at the door soon brought some domestics, +who, opening a small wicket, discovered the identity of their principal +visitor, and immediately threw open the door. + +"Thanks," said Edwy; "we were almost frozen." + +Passing through a kind of atrium--for the old Roman fashion was still +sometimes followed in this particular--the domestics ushered the +visitors into a room brilliantly lighted by torches stuck in cressets +projecting from the walls, and by huge wax candles upon a table spread +for a feast. The light revealed a small but apparently select party, who +seemed to await the prince: a lady, who appeared to be the mistress of +the mansion; a young girl apparently about the age of Edwy, who, calling +her his fair cousin, saluted her fondly; and two or three youths, whose +gaudy dress and affected manners were strongly in contrast with the +stern simplicity of the times. + +After saluting each person with the greatest freedom, Edwy introduced +his companion. + +"Here is a young novice I have brought to learn the noble art of +merrymaking, of wine and wassail. We have both been literally starved at +the palace--I should say monastery--of Monk Edred today. It is +Friday, and we have been splendidly dining upon salt fish served up on +golden salvers. My goodness! the flavour of that precious cod is yet in +my mouth. Food for cats, I do assure you, and served up to kings. What +did you think of it, Elfric?" + +Elfric was ashamed to say that it had not been so very bad after all. +Truth to say his conscience was uneasy, for he had been brought up to +respect the fasts of the Church, and he saw a trial awaiting him in the +luscious dishes before him. + +"What does it matter?" the reader may exclaim; "it is not that which +goeth into the mouth which defileth a man," etc. + +True, most wise critic, but it is that which goeth out; and if +disobedience be not amongst the evils which defile, then Adam did not +fall in Paradise when he ate the forbidden fruit. Elfric could not touch +flesh on fast days without the instinctive feeling that he was doing +wrong, and no one can sin against the conviction of the heart without +danger. + +The party now seated themselves, and without any grace or further +preface the feast began. Servants appeared and served up the most +exquisite dishes, of a delicacy almost unknown in England at that day, +and poured rich wines into silver goblets. It was evident that wealth +abounded in the family they were visiting, and that they had expended it +freely for the gratification of Edwy. + +Ethelgiva, the lady of the house, was of noble presence, which almost +seemed to justify the claim of royal blood which was made for her. Tall +and commanding, age had not bent her form, although her locks were +already white. Her beauty, which must have been marvellous in her +younger days, had attracted the attention of a younger son of the +reigning house, and they were married at an early age, secretly, without +the sanction of the king. + +The fruit of their union was Elgiva, a name destined to fill a place in +a sad and painful tragedy; but we are anticipating, and must crave the +reader's pardon. + +Bright and cheerful indeed was the fair Elgiva at this moment. Her +beauty was remarkable even in a land so famed for the beauty of its +daughters; and the ill-advised Edwy may be pitied, if not altogether +pardoned, for his infatuation, for infatuation it was in a day when the +near tie of blood between them precluded the possibility of lawful +matrimony, save at the expense of a dispensation never likely to be +conceded, since the temperament of men like Odo, the Archbishop of +Canterbury, and of Dunstan, was opposed to any relaxation of the law in +the case of the great when such relaxation was unattainable by the poor +and lowly. + +To return to our subject: + +The feast proceeded with great animation. At first Elfric hesitated when +the meat was placed before him, but he withered, in his weakness, before +the mocking smile of Edwy, and the sarcasm which played upon the lips of +the rest of the company, who perceived his hesitation. So he yielded, +and, shaking off all restraint, ate heartily. + +Dish followed dish, and the wine cup circulated with great freedom. +Excited as he was, Elfric could but remark the loose tone of the +conversation. Subjects were freely discussed which had never found +admittance either in the palace of King Edred or at Aescendune, and +which, indeed, caused him to look up with surprise, remembering in whose +presence he sat. + +But, as is often the case in an age where opinion is severely repressed +in its outward expression, and amongst those compelled against their +will to observe silence on such subjects on ordinary occasions, all +restraint seemed abandoned at the table of Ethelgiva. It was not that +the language was coarse, but whether the conversation turned upon the +restraints of the clergy, or the court, or upon the fashionable +frivolities of the day--for there were frivolities and fashions even +in that primitive age--there was a freedom of expression bordering +upon profanity or licentiousness. + +Edred was mocked as an old babbler; Dunstan was sometimes a fool, +sometimes a hypocrite, sometimes even a sorcerer, although this was said +sneeringly; the clergy were divided into fools and knaves; the claims of +the Church--that is of Christianity--derided, and the principle +freely avowed--"Enjoy life while you can, for you know not what may +come after." + +Excited by the wine he had drunk, Elfric became as wild in his talk as +the other young men, and as the intoxicating drink mounted to his brain, +seemed to think that he had just learnt how to enjoy life. + +The ladies retired at last, and Edwy followed them. Elfric was on the +point of rising too, but a hint from his companions restrained him. The +wine cup still circulated, the conversation, now unrestrained, initiated +the boy into many an evil secret he had never known earlier; and so the +hours passed on, till Edwy, himself much flushed, came in and said that +it was time to depart, for midnight had long been tolled from the +distant towers of London. + +He smiled as he saw by Elfric's bloodshot eyes and unsteady gait, as he +rose, upsetting his seat, that his companion was something less master +of himself than usual; he felt, it need hardly be said, no remorse, but +rather regarded the whole thing as what might now be termed "a jolly lark." + +"Shall you require bearers, or can you walk to the boat? I do not wonder +you are ill, you have eaten too much fish today; it is a shame to make +the knees weak through fasting in this style." + +"I--I--am all right now." + +"You will be better in the air." + +So, bidding a farewell of somewhat doubtful character to his +entertainers, Elfric was assisted to the boat. The air did not revive +him, he felt wretchedly feverish and giddy, and could hardly tell how he +reached the river. + +Reach it, however, he did, and the strong arms of the watermen impelled the +boat rapidly down the tide, until it reached the stairs near the palace. + +Here Redwald was in waiting, and assisted them to land. + +"You are very late, or rather early," he said. + +"Yes," said Edwy, "but it has been a jolly evening, only poor Elfric has +been ill, having of course weakened himself by fasting." + +Redwald smiled such a scornful smile, and muttered some words to +himself. Yet it did not seem as if he were altogether displeased at the +state in which he saw Elfric. It may be added that Edwy was but little +better. + +"You must keep silent," said Redwald; "I believe the king and Dunstan +are hearing matins in the chapel: it is the festival of some saint or +other, who went to the gridiron in olden days." + +The outer gate of the palace was cautiously opened, and, taking off +their shoes, the youths ascended the stairs which led to their +apartments as lightly as possible. + +"Send the leech Sigebert to us in the morning--he must report Elfric +unwell--for he will hardly get up to hear Dunstan mumble mass." + +"Perhaps your royal highness had better rest also." + +"And bring suspicion upon us both? No," said Edwy, "one will be enough +to report ill at once; Dunstan is an old fox." + +Poor Elfric could hardly get to bed, and, almost for the first time +since infancy, he laid himself down without one prayer. Edwy left him in +the dark, and there he lay, his head throbbing, and a burning thirst +seeming to consume him. + +Long before morning he was very sick, and when the bell was sounded for +the early mass it need hardly be said that he was unable to rise. + +Sigebert the physician, who, like Redwald, was in the confidence of the +future king, Edwy, came in to see him, and asked what was the matter. + +"I am very sick and ill," gasped Elfric. + +"I suppose you have taken something that disagreed with you--too much +fish perhaps." (with a smile). + +"No--no--I do not--" + +"I understand," said the leech; "you will soon be better; meanwhile, I +will account for your absence at chapel. Here, take this medicine; you +will find it relieve you." + +And he gave Elfric a mixture which assuaged his burning thirst, and +bathed his forehead with some powerful essence which refreshed him +greatly, whereupon the leech departed. + +Only an hour later, and Edred, hearing from the physician of Elfric's +sudden illness, came in to see the boy, whose bright cheerful face and +merry disposition had greatly attracted him. This was hardest of all for +Elfric to bear; he had to evade the kind questions of the king, and to +hear expressions of sympathy which he felt he did not deserve. + +More than once he felt inclined to tell all, but the fear of the prince +restrained him, and also a sense of what he thought honour, for he would +not betray his companion, and he could not confess his own guilt without +implicating Edwy. + +Poor boy! it would have been far better for him had he done so: he had +taken his first step downward. + + + CHAPTER VI. LOWER AND LOWER. + +It becomes our painful duty to record that from the date of the feast, +described in our last chapter, the character of poor Elfric underwent +rapid deterioration. In the first place, the fact of his having yielded +to the forbidden indulgence, and--as he felt--disgraced himself, +gave Edwy, as the master of the secret, great power over him, and he +never failed to use this power whenever he saw any inclination on the +part of his vassal to throw off the servitude. It was not that he +deliberately intended to injure Elfric, but he had come to regard virtue +as either weakness or hypocrisy, at least such virtues as temperance, +purity, or self restraint. + +The great change which was creeping over Elfric became visible to +others: he seemed to lose his bright smile; the look of boyish innocence +faded from his countenance, and gave place to an expression of sullen +reserve; he showed less ardour in all his sports and pastimes, became +subject to fits of melancholy, and often seemed lost in thought, anxious +thought, in the midst of his studies. + +He seldom had the power, even if the will, to communicate with home. +Mercia was in many respects an independent state, subject to the same +king, but governed by a code of laws differing from those of Wessex; and +it was only when a royal messenger or some chance traveller left court +for the banks of the Midland Avon, that Elfric could use the art of +writing, a knowledge he was singular in possessing, thanks to the wisdom +of his sire. + +So the home authorities knew little of the absent one, for whom they +offered up many a fervent prayer, and of whom they constantly spoke and +thought. And yet, so mysterious are the ways of Providence, it seemed as +if these prayers were unanswered--seemed indeed, yet they were not +forgotten before God. + +Seemed forgotten; for Elfric was rapidly becoming reckless. Many +subsequent scenes of indulgence had followed the first one, and other +haunts, residences of licentious young nobles, or taverns, had been +sought out by the youths, and always by Redwald's connivance. + +He was Edwy's evil genius, and always seemed at hand whensoever the +prince sought occasion to sin. Still, he was not at all suspected by +Edred, before whom he kept up an appearance of the strictest morality-- +always punctual in his attendance at mass, matins, and evensong, and +with a various stock of phrases of pious import ready at tongue in case +of need or opportunity of using them to advantage. + +To Elfric, his behaviour was always reserved, yet he seemed even more +ready to lend him a helping hand downward than did the prince. + +So time passed on; weeks became months; and Christmas with all its +hallowed associations had passed; it had been Elfric's first Christmas +away from home, and he was sad at heart, in spite of the boisterous +merriment of his companions. The spring of the year 955 came on, and +Lent drew near, a season to which Edwy looked forward with great dread, +for, as he said, there would be nothing in the whole palace to eat until +Easter, and he could not even hope to bribe the cook. + +The canons of the church required all persons to make confession, and so +enter upon the fast tide, having "thus purified their minds;" [x] +it may, alas! be easily guessed how the guilty lads performed this duty, +how enforced confession only led to their adding the sin of further +deceit, and that of a deadly kind. + +Thus they entered upon Lent: their abstinence was entirely compulsory, +not voluntary; and although they made up for it in some degree when they +could get away from the palace, yet even this was difficult, for it was +positively unlawful for butchers to sell or for people to buy meat at +the prohibited seasons, and the law was not easily evaded. But it was a +prayerless Lent also to Elfric, for he had, alas! even discontinued his +habit of daily prayer, a habit he had hitherto maintained from +childhood, a habit first learned at his mother's knee. + +Holy Week came, and was spent with great strictness; the king seemed to +divide his whole time between the business of state and the duties of +religion. + +Dunstan was absent at Glastonbury, but other ecclesiastics thronged the +palace, and there were few, save the guilty boys and Redwald, who seemed +uninfluenced by the solemn commemoration. + +But it must not be supposed that Elfric was wholly uninfluenced: after +the preaching of the Passion by a poor simple monk on Good Friday, he +retired to his own little room, where he wept as if his heart would +break. Had Dunstan been then in town, the whole story would have been +told, and much misery saved, for Elfric felt he could trust him if he +could trust anybody; but unhappily Dunstan was, as we have seen, keeping +Passiontide at his abbey. + +Still, Elfric felt he must tell all, and submit to the advice and +penance which might be imposed; and as he sat weeping over his sin that +Good Friday night, with the thought that he might find pardon and peace +through the Great Sacrifice so touchingly pleaded that day, he felt that +the first step to amendment must lie in a full and frank confession of +all; he knew he should grievously offend Edwy, and that he should lose +the favour of his future king, but he could not help it. + +"Why, oh why did I leave Aescendune, dear Aescendune?--fool that I was +--I will go back." + +And a sweet desire of home and kindred rose up before him--of his +father's loving welcome, his fond mother's chaste kiss, and of the dear +old woods and waters--the hallowed associations of his home life. He +rose up to seek Father Benedict, determined to enter upon the path of +peace at any cost, when Edwy entered. + +He did not see in the gathering darkness the traces of emotion visible +on poor Elfric's countenance, and he began in his usual careless way-- +"How are you, Elfric, my boy; glad Lent is nearly over? What a dismal +time that wretched monk preached this morning!" + +"Edwy, I am utterly miserable: I must tell all; I cannot live like this +any longer." + +"What a burst of penitence! go to confession; to be sure it looks well, +and if one can only manage to get out a few tears they account him a +saint; tell me the receipt." + +"But, Edwy, I must tell all!" + +"Not if you are wise." + +"Why not? It is all in secrecy." + +"No it is not; you will be required as a penance to go and tell the king +all that we have done; you may do so, and I will manage to represent +matters so as to throw the whole blame on you; you will be sent home in +disgrace." + +Poor Elfric hung down his head; the thought of his disgrace reaching +home had not occurred to him. + +"Come," said Edwy, "I don't want to be hard upon you. Cheer up, my man. +What have you done amiss? Only enjoyed yourself as nature has guided +you. Why should you think God meant us to pass through life like those +miserable shavelings Edred delights to honour? Cheer up, Elfric; your +bright face was never meant for that of a hypocrite. If you are so +dreadfully bad, you are in a pretty numerous company; and I don't think +the shavelings believe their own tales about fire and torment hereafter. +They are merry enough, considering." + +In short, poor Elfric's short-lived penitence was given to the winds. +Edwy went alone to be shriven on the morrow. + +On Easter Day they both received the Holy Communion in the royal chapel. + +From that time remorse ceased to visit the heir of Aescendune, as if he +had at last quenched the Spirit, and he became so utterly wild and +reckless, that at last Dunstan thought it necessary to speak to him +privately on the subject. It was nearly six months after Easter. + +The boy entered the study set apart for the use of the great monk and +statesman with a palpitating heart, but he managed to repress its +beatings, and put on a perfectly unconcerned expression of countenance. +He had gained in self control if in nothing else. + +"I wished to speak with you, Elfric," said the abbot, "upon a very +serious matter. When you first came here, I was delighted to have you as +a companion to the prince. You were evidently well brought up, and bore +an excellent character; but, I grieve to say, you have greatly changed +for the worse. Are you not aware of it?" + +"No, father. What have I done?" + +Dunstan sighed at the tone of the reply, and continued--"It is not any +particular action of which I wish to accuse you, but of the general +tenor of your conduct. I do not speak harshly, my boy; but if truth be +told, you are as idle as you were once diligent, as sullen and reserved +as once candid and open: and, my son, your face tells a tale of even +worse things, and, but that I am puzzled to know where you could obtain the +means of self indulgence, I should attribute more serious vices to you." + +"Who has accused me, father?" + +"Yourself--that is, your own face and manner. Did you ever contemplate +yourself in a mirror when at home? There is a steel one against that +wall, go and look at yourself now." + +Elfric blushed deeply. + +"My face is still the same," he said. + +"It is the same, and yet not the same. Innocence once took her place at +its portals, and had sealed it as her own; the expression is all +changed; my boy, I am absolutely certain that all is not well with you. +For your own sake, delay no longer to avoid the danger of losing your +salvation, for the habits you form now will perhaps cling to you through +life. Turn now to your own self; confess your sin, and be at peace." + +"I came to confession at Shrovetide; I am not required to come now, am I?" + +"Required? No, my boy, it is your own sense of guilt, alone, which +should draw you. The Church, since there has been no public scandal, +leaves you to your own judgment at such a time as this. Have you never +felt such remorse of conscience as would tell you your duty?" + +"Never." + +He thought of Good Friday, and blushed. + +"Your tone and words belie each other, my boy. God grant you repentance; +you will not accept my help now, but the time may come when you will +seek help in vain." + +Elfric bowed, without reply, and at a sign left the chamber. + +A few weeks later, at the beginning of November, Edred left London for a +tour in the west, and quitted his nephews with more than his usual +affection, although his goodbye to Elfric was more constrained, for the +good old king, not knowing the whole truth, was beginning to fear that +Elfric was a dangerous companion. He little thought that he was rather +sinned against than sinning. + +Dunstan was to follow him in a week, and only remained behind to +discharge necessary business. + +The heart of the amorous Edwy beat with delight as he saw his uncle +depart, and he made arrangements at once to spend the night after +Dunstan's departure in mirth and jollity at the house of Ethelgiva and +her fair daughter. + +He came back after an interview with Redwald on the subject, and found +Elfric in their common study. There was an alcove in the room, and it +was covered by a curtain. + +"O Elfric," said the prince, "is it not delightful? The two tyrants, the +king and the monk, will soon be gone. I wish the Evil One would fly off +with them both, and when the cat is away will not the mice play? I have +made all the arrangements; we shall have such a night at the lady +Ethelgiva's." + +"How is the fair Elgiva?" + +It was now Edwy's turn to blush and look confused. + +"I wish I had the power of teasing you, Elfric. But if you have a secret +you keep it close. Remember old Dunstan vanishes on the fifteenth, and +the same evening, oh, won't it be joyful? But I am tired of work. Come +and let us take some fresh air." + +They left the room, when the curtain parted, and the astonished +countenance of Father Benedict, who had been quietly reading in the deep +embrasure of the window, presently appeared. He looked like a man at +whose feet a thunderbolt had fallen, and hastily left the room. + +The week passed rapidly away, and at its close Dunstan took his +departure. A train of horses awaited him, and he bade the young princes +Edwy and Edgar farewell, with the usual charge to work diligently and +obey Father Benedict. + +That same night, after the clerks had sung compline in the chapel, and +the chamberlain had seen to the safety of the palace, Edwy came quietly +to the room of his page, and the two left as on the first occasion. +Redwald attended them, and just before the boat left the bank he spoke a +word of caution. + +"I fear," he said, in a low tone, "that all is not quite right. That old +fox Dunstan is up to some trick; he has not really left town." + +"Perhaps he has a similar appointment tonight," said Edwy, +sarcastically. "I should keep mine though he and all his monks from +Glastonbury barred the way." + +They reached the castellated mansion of Ethelgiva in due course, and the +programme of the former evening was repeated, save that, if there was +any change, the conversation was more licentious, and the wine cup +passed more freely. + +It was midnight, and one of the company was favouring them with a song +of questionable propriety, when a heavy knock was heard at the door. The +servants went to answer it, and all the company awaited the issue in +suspense. + +One of the principal domestics returned with haste, and whispered some +words into the ear of Ethelgiva--which seemed to discompose her. + +"What can this mean?" she said. "A guard of soldiers demand admittance +in the king's name?" + +A louder knocking attested the fact. + +"You must admit them, or they will batter the door down. Edwy, Elfric! +here, hide yourselves behind that curtain, it veils a deep recess." + +They had scarcely concealed themselves when Dunstan entered, attended by +a guard of the royal hus-carles. + +"What means this insolence?" said Ethelgiva. + +"No insolence is intended, royal lady, nor could be offered to the widow +of the Etheling, by me," replied Dunstan, "but I seek to discharge a +sacred trust committed to me. Where are my pupils, the Prince Edwy and +his companion?" + +"In their beds, at the palace, I should suppose." + +"Nay, be not so perfidious; they are here, lady, and probably within +hearing; they must come forth, or I must order the guard to search the +house, which I should regret." + +"By whose authority?" + +"By that of the king, whose signet is on my hand." + +"They are not here; they left half-an-hour ago." + +"Pardon me, madam, if I observe that we have watched the house for an hour. + +"Had not this scene better terminate?" he added, with icy coldness. + +At this moment a favourite dog, which Edwy had often petted, and which +had entered with the guard, found him out behind the curtain, and in its +vociferous joy betrayed the whole secret. + +Confusion or smiles sat on every face save that of the imperturbable +Dunstan. + +"Your dog, madam, is more truthful than its mistress," he said, bluntly +yet quietly; and then, advancing to the recess, he drew aside the +curtain and gazed upon the discovered couple. + +"Will you kindly return to the palace with me?" + +"How dare you, insolent monk, intrude upon the pleasures of your future +king?" + +"I dare by the orders of the present king, your royal uncle, who has +committed the whole matter into my hands; and, Prince Edwy, in the +discharge of my duty 'dare' is a superfluous word. Will you, as I said +before, both follow me, if you are sufficiently masters of yourselves to +do so?" + +The import of all this was seen at a glance, but there was no course but +submission, and Edwy well knew how utterly indefensible his conduct was; +so, with crestfallen gait, he and Elfric followed their captor to the +river, where was another large boat by the side of their own. They +entered it, and returned to the palace stairs much more sober than on +previous occasions. + + + CHAPTER VII. "THE KING IS DEAD!--LONG LIVE THE KING!" + +The unhappy Elfric passed the night in a most unenviable frame of mind. +He felt distinctly how utterly he was in the power of Dunstan, and that +he could only expect to return home in disgrace; yet there was no real +repentance in all this: he had sinned and suffered, but although he +dreaded punishment he no longer hated sin. + +He scarcely slept at all, and early in the morning he rose to seek an +interview with Edwy, when he found that he was a prisoner. One of the +hus-carles posted at his door forbade all communication. + +Early in the morning the bell sounded for the early service, still he +was not released, and later his breakfast was brought to him, after +which he heard a heavy step approaching, and Dunstan appeared at the +door of the sleeping chamber. + +He entered, and gazed at Elfric for a moment without speaking, as if he +would read his very heart by his face; it was hardly comfortable. + +"Elfric," he said at last, "do you remember the warning I gave you six +months ago?" + +"No," said Elfric, determined, in desperation, to deny everything. + +"I fear you are hardly telling me the truth; you must remember it, +unhappy boy! Why were you not warned in time? Why did you refuse the +advice which might have saved you from all this?" + +"Because it was my fate, I suppose." + +"Men make their own fates, and as they make their beds so must they lie +upon them; however, I have not come here to reproach you, but to bid you +prepare to return home." + +"Home?--so soon?" said Elfric. + +"Yes, you must leave tomorrow, when a messenger will be prepared to +accompany you, and to explain the cause of your dismissal from court to +your father, whom I most sincerely pity; and let me hope that you will +find leisure to repent of your grievous sin in the solitude of your +native home." + +"Must my father be told everything?" + +"I fear he must: you have left us no choice; and it is the better thing, +both for him and for you; he will understand better what steps are +necessary for your reformation--a reformation, I trust, which will be +accomplished in good time, whereat no one will rejoice more than I." + +A pert answer rose to Elfric's lips, but he dared not give utterance to +it; the speaker was too great in his wrath to be defied with impunity. + +"Farewell," said Dunstan, "would that I could say the word with brighter +hopes; but should you ever repent of your sin, as I trust you may, it +will gladden me to hear of it. I fear you may have done great harm to +England in the person of her future king, but God forgive you in that +case." + +Elfric felt the injustice of the last accusation; he coloured, and an +indignant denial had almost risen to his lips, but he repressed it for +Edwy's sake--faithful, even in his vice, to his friend. + +"Am I to consider myself a prisoner? you have posted a sentinel, as if I +were a criminal." + +"You must be confined to your apartment, but you may have books and +anything else you desire. The prince is forbidden to see you again. Your +confinement will only be for one day; tomorrow you will be free enough; +let me beg you to use the occasion for calm reflection, and, I hope, +penitence." + +Dunstan left the room, and Elfric heard his retreating steps go heavily +down the stairs, when a sudden and almost unaccountable feeling came +over him--a feeling that he had thrown himself away, and that he was +committed to evil, perhaps never to be able to retrace his course, never +to all eternity; the retreating steps sounded as if his sentence were +passed and the door of mercy shut. He shook off the strange feeling; +yet, could he have seen the future which lay undiscovered before him, and +which must intervene before he should see that face again, or hear those +steps, he might have been unable thus to shake off the nameless dread. + +The day wore away, night drew on; he laid himself down and tried to +sleep, when he heard voices conversing outside, and recognised Edwy's +tones; immediately after the prince entered. + +"What a shame, Elfric," he said, "to make you a prisoner like this, and +to send you away--for they say you are to go tomorrow--you shall not +be forgotten if ever I become king, and I don't think it will be long +first. The first thing I shall do will be to send for you; you will +come; won't you?" + +"I will be yours for life or death." + +"I knew it, and this is the faithful friend from whom they would +separate me; well, we will have this last evening together in peace; old +Dunstan has gone out, and Redwald has put a man as your guard who never +sees anything he is not wanted to see." + +"What a convenient thing!" + +"But you seem very dull; is anything on your mind which I do not know? +What did Dunstan say to you?" + +"He is going to write home to my father all particulars. It will make +home miserable." + +"Perhaps we may find a remedy for that," said Edwy, and left the room +hastily. + +Shortly he returned in company with Redwald. + +"Come with us, Elfric," said the prince "there is no one in the palace +to interfere with us. Old Dunstan received a sudden message, and has +gone out hastily; we will go and see what he has written." + +Somewhat startled at the audacity of the proposal, Elfric followed the +prince, and Redwald accompanied them. After passing through a few +passages, they arrived at the cell, or rather study, usually occupied by +Dunstan when at court, and entered it, not without a slight feeling of +dread, or rather of reluctance. + +"Here it is," said Edwy, and held up a parchment, folded, sealed, and +directed to "Ella, Thane of Aescendune." + +"I should like to know what he has written," said the prince. "Redwald, +you understand these things; can you open the letter without breaking +the seal?" + +"There is no need of that," replied the captain of the hus-carles, "I +can easily seal it again; see, there is the signet, and here the wax." + +So he broke the letter open and extended it to the prince, whose liberal +education had given him the faculty of reading the monkish Latin, in +which Dunstan wrote, at a glance, and he read aloud: + +"TO MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, + +"ELLA, THANE OF AESCENDUNE-- + +"It grieveth me much, most beloved brother, to be under the necessity of +sending your son Elfric home in some little disgrace; but it is, alas a +necessity that I should do so, in virtue of the authority our good lord +and king, Edred, hath entrusted to me. The lad was bright, and, I think, +innocent of aught like deadly sin, when he came to this huge Babel, +where the devil seems to lead men even as he will, and he hath fallen +here into evil company--nay, into the very company most evil of all in +this wicked world, that of designing and shameless women, albeit of +noble birth. It hath been made apparent to me that there is great danger +to both the prince and your son in any further connection, therefore I +return Elfric to your care, sincerely hoping that, by God's help, you +will be enabled to take such measures as will lead to his speedy +reformation, for which I devoutly pray. The bearer will give such +further information as you may desire. + +"Wishing you health, and an abiding place in the favour of God and His +saints--Your brother in the faith of Christ, + +"DUNSTAN, O.S.B." + +Edwy read the letter aloud with many a vindictive comment, and then said +to Redwald--"What can be done? Must this letter go?" + +"Does your father know the Saint's handwriting, Elfric?" + +"He never heard from him before, I believe." + +"Well, then, I will venture to enclose a different message," and he sat +down at the table, and wrote--"TO MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, + +"ELLA, THANE OF AESCENDUNE-- + +"It rejoiceth me much, most beloved brother, to send you good tidings of +the good behaviour and growth in grace of your son, whom the king hath +concluded to send home for the benefit of his health, since London hath +in some degree destroyed the ruddy hue of his countenance, and he +needeth a change, as his paleness sufficiently declareth. + +"The king hath bidden me express his great satisfaction with the lad's +conduct, and the prince mourneth his enforced departure. Wishing you +health and an abiding place in the favour of God and His saints--Your +brother in the faith of Christ, + +"DUNSTAN, O.S.B." + +The boys laughed aloud as they read the forgery. + +"But about the messenger--will he not tell the truth?" + +"Oh, I will see to him, he is not above a bribe, and knows it is his +interest to serve his future king, although Dunstan thinks him so trusty." + +All at once the booming of a heavy bell smote their ears. + +"It is the bell of St. Paul's, it tolls for the death of some noble," +said Redwald; "what can it mean? has any member of the royal family been +ill?" + +They listened to the solemn dirge-like sound as it floated through the +air, calling upon all good Christians to pray for the repose of the +departed or departing soul. No prayer rose to their lips, and they soon +returned to the subject in hand. + +"When is the letter to be despatched?" + +"Early in the morning the messenger will await you; and now, I should +recommend some sleep to prepare for a fatiguing journey." + +Elfric and the prince returned to their chamber, but they did not take +Redwald's hint, and remained talking till just before daybreak, when +they were aroused by the hasty step of an armed heel, and Redwald stood +before them. His demeanour was very strange; he bent down on one knee, +took the hand of Edwy, who resigned it passively to him, kissed it and +cried aloud--"God save the king!" + +"What can you mean, Redwald?" exclaimed both the youths. + +"Heard you not the passing bell last night? Edred sleeps with his +fathers; he died at Frome on St. Clement's day." + +For a moment they were both silent. + +"And Edwy, the great grandson of Alfred, is king of England." + +At first the young prince was deeply shocked at the sudden news of the +death of his uncle, to whom, in spite of appearances, he was somewhat +attached. He turned pale, and was again silent for some minutes; at +last, he gulped down a cup of water, and asked--"But how did Dunstan +know?" + +"Why, it is a strange tale. Three days ago, at the very hour the king +must have died, he says that he saw a bright light, and beheld a vision +of angels, who said, 'Edred hath died in the Lord,' but he treated it as +a dream, and last night a messenger came with the news of the sudden +illness of the king, bidding Dunstan hasten to his side. He left +everything, and started immediately, but in a few miles met another +messenger, bearing the news of the death. He has gone on, but sent the +messenger forward to the Bishop of London, who caused the great bell to +be tolled. + +"We must all die some day," said Edwy, musingly; "but it is very very +sudden." + +"And I trust he has obtained a better kingdom," added Redwald; "he must, +you know, if the monks tell the truth, so why should we weep for him?" + +"At least," said Edwy, looking up, "Elfric need not go home now." + +"No, certainly not, but he had better disappear from court for a time. +The lady Ethelgiva might afford him hospitality, or he might stay at the +royal palace at Kingston. I will tell the messenger to keep out of the +way, and Dunstan may suppose that his orders have been obeyed to the +letter." + +"Why should we trouble what he may think or say?" + +"Because the Witan has not yet met, and until it has gone through the +form, the mere form, of recognising your title, you are not actually +king. Dunstan has some influence. Suppose he should use it for Edgar?" + +"Edgar, the pale-faced little priestling!" + +"All the better for that in Dunstan's eyes. Nay, be advised, my king; +keep all things quiet until the coronation is over, then let Dunstan +know who you are and who he is." + +"Indeed I will. He shall have cause to rue his insolent behaviour the +other night." + +"Bide your time, my liege; and now the great officers of state require +your presence below." + +A few days later a sorrowful procession entered the old city of +Winchester, the capital of Wessex, and once a favourite residence of +Edred, now to be his last earthly resting place. Much had the citizens +loved him; and as the long train defiled into the open space around the +old minster--old, even then--the vast assemblage, grouped beneath +the trees around the sacred precincts, lifted up their voices and joined +in the funeral hymn, while many wept tears of genuine sorrow. It was awe +inspiring, that burst of tuneful wailing, as the monks entered the +sacred pile, and it made men's hearts thrill with the sense of the +unseen world into which their king had entered, and where, as they +believed, their supplications might yet follow him. + +There were the chief mourners--Edwy and Edgar--and they followed the +royal corpse, the latter greatly afflicted, and shedding genuine tears +of sorrow--and the royal household. All the nobility of Wessex, and +many of the nobles from Mercia and other provinces, were gathered +together, and amidst the solemn silence of the vast crowd, Dunstan +performed the last sad and solemn rites with a broken voice; while the +archbishop--Odo the Good, as he was frequently called--assisted in +the dread solemnity. + +It was over; the coffin was lowered to the royal vaults to repose in +peace, the incenses had ceased to float dreamily beneath the lofty +roof,[xi] the various lights which had borne part in the +ceremony were extinguished, the choral anthem had ceased, for Edred +slept with his fathers. + +And outside, the future king was welcomed with loud cries of "God save +King Edwy, and make him just as Alfred, pious as Edred, and warlike as +Athelstane!" + +"Long live the heir of Cerdic's ancient line!" + +Thus their cries anticipated the decision of the Witan, and without all +was noise and clamour; while within the sacred fane the ashes of him who +had so lately ruled England rested in peace by the side of his royal +father Edward, the son of Alfred, three of whose sons--Athelstane, +Edmund, Edred--had now reigned in succession. + +It must not be supposed that Edwy was as yet king by the law of the +land. The early English writers all speak of their kings as elected; it +was not until the Witan had recognised them, that they were crowned and +assumed the royal prerogatives. + +Edwy had followed Redwald's advice: he had kept Elfric out of the way, +and meant to do so until his coronation day. And meanwhile he +condescended to disguise his real feelings, and to affect sorrow for his +past failings when in the presence of Dunstan. + +Yet he took advantage of the greater liberty he now enjoyed to renew his +visits to the mansion up the Thames, and to spend whole days in the +society of Elgiva. In their simplicity and deep love they thought all +the obstacles to their happy union now removed. Alas! ill-fated pair! + + + CHAPTER VIII. THE CORONATION. + +Nothing could exceed in solemnity the "hallowing of the king," as the +coronation ceremony was termed in Anglo-Saxon times. It was looked upon +as an event of both civil and ecclesiastical importance, and therefore +nothing was omitted which could lend dignity to the occasion. + +The Witan, or parliament, had already met and given its consent to the +coronation of Edwy. It was not, as we have already remarked, a mere +matter of course that the direct heir should occupy the throne. Edred +had already ascended, while Edwy, the son of his elder brother, was an +infant, not as regent, but as king; and in any case of unfitness on the +part of the heir apparent, it was in the power of the Witan to pass him +over, and to choose for the public good some other member of the royal +house. The same Witan conferred upon Edgar the title of sub-king of +Mercia under his brother. + +Solemn and imposing was the meeting of the Witenagemot, or "assembly of +the wise." It was divided into three estates. The first consisted of the +only class who, as a rule, had any learning in those days--the clergy, +represented by the bishop, abbot, and their principal officials: the +second consisted of the vassal kings of Scotland, Cumbria, Wales, Mona, +the Hebrides, and other dependent states, the great earls, as of Mercia +or East Anglia, and other mighty magnates: the third, of the lesser +thanes, who were the especial vassals of the king, or the great +landholders, for the possession of land was an essential part of a title +to nobility. + +Amongst these sat Ella of Aescendune, who, in spite of his age, had come +to the metropolis to testify his loyalty and fealty to the son of the +murdered Edmund, his old friend and companion in arms, and to behold his +own eldest son once more. + +It was the morning of a beautiful day in early spring, one of those days +of which the poet has written-- + +"Sweet day, so calm, so pure, so bright, +The bridal of the earth and sky" + +--when winter seems to have loosed its stern hold upon the frozen +earth, and the songs of countless birds welcome the bright sunlight, the +harbinger of approaching summer. + +The roads leading to Kingston-on-Thames were thronged with travellers of +every degree--the ealdorman or earl with his numerous attendants, the +bishop with rude ecclesiastical pomp, the peasant in his rough jerkin-- +all hastening to the approaching ceremony, which, as it had been +definitely fixed, was to take place at that royal city. + +There Athelstane had been crowned with great pomp and splendour, for it +was peculiarly "_Cynges tun_" or the King's Town, and after the +coronation it was customary for the newly-crowned monarch to take formal +possession of his kingdom by standing on a great stone in the churchyard. + +The previous night, Archbishop Odo had arrived from Canterbury, and his +bosom friend and brother, Dunstan, from Glastonbury, as also Cynesige, +Bishop of Lichfield, a man in every way like-minded with them; while +nearly all the other prelates, abbots, and nobles, arrived in the early +morn of the eventful day. + +The solemn service of the coronation mass was about to commence, and the +people were assembling in the great church of St. Mary, filling every +inch of available room. Every figure was bent forward in earnest gaze, +and every heart seemed to beat more quickly, as the faint and distant +sound of deep solemn music, the monastic choirs chanting the +processional psalms, drew near. + +Suddenly the jubilant strains filled the whole church, as the +white-robed train entered the sacred building while they sang: + +"_Quoniam praevenisti eum in benedictionibus dulcedinis, posuisti in +capiti ejus coronam de lapide pretioso_." [xii] + +Incense ascended in clouds to the lofty roof; torches were uplifted, +banners floated in the air, every eye was now strained to catch a +glimpse of the youthful monarch. + +He came at last. Oh, how lovely the ill-fated boy looked that day! His +beauty was of a somewhat fragile character, his complexion almost too +fair, his hair shone around his shoulders in waves of gold, for men then +wore their hair long, his eyes blue as the azure vault on that sweet +spring morning: alas, that his spiritual being should not have been +equally fair! + +Elfric stood by his father, amidst the crowd of thanes, near the rood +screen, for he had spent the last few days at Kingston, and there his +father had found him, and had embraced him with joy, little dreaming of +the change which had come over his darling boy. + +"Look, father, is he not every inch a king?" Elfric could not help +exclaiming, forgetting the place and the occasion in his pride in his +king and his friend. + +He would have been one of the four boys who bore the royal train, but it +had not seemed advisable on such a day to offend Dunstan too seriously. + +The mass proceeded after the royal party had all taken their places, and +the coronation service was incorporated into the rite, following the +Nicene Creed and preceding the canon. + +Kneeling before the altar, the young prince might well tremble with +emotion. Before him stood the archbishop, clad in full pontifical +vestments; around were the most noted prelates and wisest abbots of +England; behind him the nobility, gentry, and commonalty of the whole +country--all gazing upon him, as the archbishop dictated the solemn +words of the oath, which Edwy repeated with trembling voice after him. + +"In the name of the ever-blessed Trinity, I promise three things to the +Christian people, my subjects: + +"First, that the Church of God within my realm shall enjoy peace, free +from any molestation." + +"Second, that I will prevent, to the utmost of my power, theft and every +fraud in all ranks of men." + +"Thirdly, that I will preserve and maintain justice and mercy in all +judicial proceedings, so that the good and merciful God may, according +to His mercy, forgive us all our sins, Who liveth and reigneth for ever +and ever. Amen." + +Then followed a most solemn charge from "Odo the Good," setting forth +all the deep responsibilities of the oath Edwy had taken, and of the +awful account to be rendered to God of the flock committed to his +youthful charge, at the great and awful day of judgment. + +Then the holy oil was solemnly poured upon the head of the kneeling boy, +after which he made the usual offertory of "gold, frankincense, and +myrrh," at the altar, emblematical of the visit of the three kings of +old, who from Sheba bore their gold and incense to the Lord. + +Then was the sacred bracelet put upon his arm, the crown on his head, +the sceptre in his hand, after which the mass proceeded. + +It is touching to recall the worship of those far-off days, when all the +surrounding circumstances differed so widely from those of the present +hour; yet the Church, in her holy conservatism, has kept intact and +almost changeless all that is hers; that day the "Nicene Creed," +"Sanctus," "Agnus Dei," "Gloria in Excelsis," rolled as now in strains +of melody towards heaven, and the "Te Deum" which concluded the jubilant +service is our Te Deum still, albeit in the vulgar tongue. + +The sacred rites concluded, the royal procession left the church and +proceeded to the churchyard, when Edwy took formal possession of Wessex, +by the ceremony of standing upon a large rock called the King's Stone, +whence the town derived its name. + +The feast was spread in the palace hard by, and all the nobles and +thanes (if the words are not synonymous) flocked thither, while the +multitude had their liberal feast spread at various tables throughout +the town, at the royal expense. + +Elfric followed his father to the palace, and was about to take his +place at the board, when a page appeared and summoned him to the +presence of Edwy. + +"I shall keep a vacant place for you by my side," said Ella, "so that we +may feast together, my son, when the king releases you; it is a great +honour that he should think of you now." + +Elfric followed the messenger, who led him into the interior of the +palace, where he found Edwy impatiently awaiting him in the royal +dressing chamber. + +Elfric had expected to find the newly-crowned king deeply impressed, but +if such had been the case, at the moment it had passed away. + +"Thanks to all the saints, including St. George, and especially the +dragon, that I can look into your jolly face again, Elfric, it is a +relief after all the grim-beards who have surrounded me today. I shudder +when I think of them." + +Elfric had been about to kneel and kiss the royal hand, in token of +homage, but Edwy saw the intention and prohibited him. + +"No more of that an thou lovest me, Elfric; my poor hand is almost worn +out already." + +"The day must have tired you, the scene was so exciting." + +Edwy yawned as he replied, "Thank God it is over; I thought Odo was +going to preach to me all day, and the incense almost stifled me; the +one good thing is that it is done now, and all England--Kent, Sussex, +Wessex, Essex, Northumbria, East Anglia, and Mercia--have all +acknowledged me as their liege lord, the Basileus of Britain. What is +done can't be undone, and Dunstan may eat his leek now, and go to fight +Satan again." + +Elfric looked up in some surprise. + +"What do you think, my friend; who do you suppose is here in the palace, +in the royal apartments?" + +"Who?" + +"Elgiva, the fair Elgiva, the lovely Elgiva, dear Elgiva, and her +mother. Oh, but I shall love to look upon her face when the feast is +done, and the grim-beards have gone!" + +"But Dunstan?" + +"Dunstan may go and hang himself; he can't scrape off the consecrated +oil, or carry away crown, bracelet, and sceptre, to hide with the other +royal treasures at Glastonbury; but the feast is beginning, and you must +come and sit on my right hand." + +"No, no," said Elfric, who saw at once what an impropriety this would +be, "not yet; besides, my old father is here, and has kept a seat beside +himself for me." + +"Well, goodbye for the present; I shall expect you after the feast. +Elgiva will be glad to see you." + +Elfric returned to his father, but a feeling of sadness had taken +possession of him, an apprehension of coming evil. + +The feast began; the clergy and the nobility of the land were assembled +in the great hail of the palace, and there was that profusion of good +cheer which befitted the day, for the English were, like their German +ancestors, in the habit of considering the feast an essential part of +any solemnity. + +How much was eaten and drunk upon the occasion it would be dangerous to +say, for it would probably exceed all modern experience, but it seemed +to the impatient Edwy that the feast and the subsequent drinking of +pledges and healths would never end, and he was impatient the whole time +to get away and be in the company of the charmer. + +An opportunity seemed at last to offer itself to his immature judgment. +Gleemen had sung, harpers had harped, but the excitement culminated when +Siward, a Northumbrian noble, who was a great musician, and skilful in +improvisation, did not disdain, like the royal Alfred, to take the harp +and pour forth an extemporary ode of great beauty, whereupon the whole +multitude rose to their feet and waved their wine cups in the air, in +ardent appreciation of the patriotic sentiments he had uttered, and the +beauty of the music and poetry. + +During the full din of their heated applause, when all eyes were fixed +upon the accomplished musician, Edwy rose softly from his chair; a door +was just behind him, and he took advantage of it to leave the hail and +thread the passages quickly, till he came to the room where he had left +Elgiva, when he threw aside his royal mantle and all his restraint at +the same time. + +It was not for a few moments that the company in the hall discovered the +absence of their king, but when they did there was a sudden hush, and +men looked at each other in mute astonishment; it appeared to all, with +scarce an exception, a gross insult to the assembled majesty of the +nation. [xiii] + +Poor Edwy, in his thoughtlessness and want of proper feeling, little +knew the deep anger such a proceeding would cause; in his lack of a +reverential spirit he was constantly, as we have seen, offending against +the respect due to the Church, the State, or himself--first as heir +presumptive, then as king. + +Men stood mute, as we have said, then murmurs of indignation at the +slight arose, and all looked at Dunstan. + +He beckoned to Cynesige of Lichfield, who came to his side. + +"We must bring this thoughtless boy back," he said, "or great harm will +be done." + +"But how?" + +"By persuasion, if possible. Follow me." + +The two prelates entered the interior of the palace, and sought the +king's private chamber. + +As they drew near they heard the sound of merry laughter, and each of +them frowned as men might do who were little accustomed to condone the +weakness of human flesh. Entering the chamber very unceremoniously, they +paused, as if aghast, when they beheld the king in the company of +Elgiva, his royal diadem cast upon the ground. + +He started in surprise, and for a moment in fear; then, remembering who +he was, he exclaimed, angrily--"How dare you, sir monk, intrude upon +the privacy of your king, unbidden?" + +"We do so as the ambassadors of the King of kings." + +It is out of our power to describe the scene which followed, the fiery +words of Edwy, the stern yet quiet rejoinders of the churchmen, the +tears of the mother and daughter; but it is well known how the scene +ended. Edwy absolutely refused to return to the assembled guests, saying +he would forfeit his kingdom first; and Dunstan replied that for his +(Edwy's) own sake he should then be compelled to use force, and suiting +the action to the word, he and Cynesige took each an arm of the youthful +king, and led him back by compulsion to the assembled nobles and clergy. + +Before condemning Dunstan, we must remember that Elgiva could not stand +in the relation of the affianced bride of the king; that Edwy really +seemed to set the laws of both Church and State at defiance, those very +laws which but that day he had sworn solemnly to maintain; and that but +recently he had stood in the relation of pupil to Dunstan, so that in +his zeal for Church and State, the abbot forgot the respect due to the +king. He saw only the boy, and forgot the sovereign. + +The guests assembled in the banqueting hall had seen the desertion of +their royal master with murmurs both loud and deep; but when they saw +him return escorted by Dunstan and Cynesige, their unanimous approval +showed that in their eyes the churchmen had taken a proper step. + +Yet, although Edwy tried to make a show of having returned of his own +free will, an innocent device at which his captors connived when they +entered the hall with him, the bitterest passions were rankling in his +heart, and he determined to take a terrible revenge, should it ever be +in his power, upon Dunstan. + +There was comparatively little show of merriment during the rest of the +feast, and the noble company separated earlier than was usual on such +occasions. + +"If this be the way King Edwy treats his guests," said the Earl of +Mercia, "he will find scant loyalty north of the Thames." + +"Nor in East Anglia," said another. + +"There is another of the line of Cerdic living." + +"Yes, Edgar, his brother." + +"Dunstan and Cynesige brought him back with some difficulty, I'll be +bound." + +"Yes; although he tried to smile, I saw the black frown hidden beneath." + +"He will take revenge for all this." + +"Upon whom?" + +"Why, upon Dunstan to be sure." + +"But how can he? Dunstan is too powerful for that." + +"Wait and see." + +Such was the general tone of the conversation, from which the sentiments +of the community might be inferred. + +Elfric went, as he had been bidden to do, at the conclusion of the +feast, to seek Edwy, and found him, it is needless to state, in a +towering rage. + +"Elfric," he said, "am I a king? or did I dream I was crowned today?" + +"You certainly were." + +"And yet these insolent monks have dared to force me from the company of +Elgiva to return to that sottish feast, and what is worse, I find they +have dared to send her and her mother home under an escort, so that I +cannot even apologise to them. As I live, if I am a king I will have +revenge." + +"I trust so, indeed," said Elfric, "they deserve death." + +"I would it were in my power to inflict it; but this accursed monk--I +go mad when I mention his name--is all too powerful. I believe Satan +helps him." + +"Still there may be ways, if you only wait till you can look around you." + +"There may indeed." + +"Only have patience; all will be in your hands some day." + +"And if it be in my power I will restore the worship of Woden and Thor, +and burn every monk's nest in the land." + +"They were at least the gods of warriors." + +"Elfric, you will stand by me, will you not?" + +"With my life." + +"Come to the window, now; see the old sots departing. There a priest, +there a thane, there an earl--all drunk, I do believe; don't you think +so?" + +"Yes, yes," said Elfric, disregarding the testimony of both his eyes +that they were all perfectly sober. + +Just then his eye caught a very disagreeable object, and he turned +somewhat pale. + +"What are you looking at?" said Edwy. + +"There is that old fox, Dunstan, talking with my father; he will learn +that I am here." + +"What does it matter?" + +"Only that he will easily persuade my father to take me home." + +"Then the commands of a king must outweigh those of a father. I have +heard Dunstan say a king is the father of all his people, and I command +you to stay." + +"I want to stay with all my heart." + +"Then you shall, even if I have to make a pretence of detaining you by +force." + +The anticipations of Elfric were not far wrong. Dunstan had found out +the truth. He had sought out the old thane to condole with him upon the +pain he supposed he must recently have inflicted by his letter. + +"I cannot express to you, my old friend and brother," he said, "the +great pain with which I sent your poor boy Elfric home, but it was a +necessity." + +"Sent him home?" said Ella. + +"Yes, at the time our lamented Edred died." + +"Sent him home!" repeated Ella, in such undisguised amazement that +Dunstan soon perceived something was amiss, and in a few short minutes +became possessed of the whole facts, while Ella learnt his son's disgrace. + +They conferred long and earnestly. The father's heart was sorely +wounded, but he could not think that Elfric would resist his commands, +and he promised to take him back at once to Aescendune, where he hoped +all would soon be well--"soon, very soon," he said falteringly. + +So the old thane went to his lodgings, hard by the palace, where he +awaited his son. + +Late in the evening Elfric arrived, his countenance flushed with wine: +he had been seeking courage for the part he had to play in the wine cup. + +Long and painful, most painful, was the interview that followed. +Hardened in his rebellion, the unhappy Elfric defied his father's +authority and justified his sin, flatly refusing to return home, in +which he pretended to be justified by "the duty a subject owed to his +sovereign." + +Thus roused to energy, Ella solemnly adjured his boy to remember the +story of his uncle Oswald, and the sad fate he had met with. It was very +seldom indeed that Ella alluded to his unhappy brother, the story was +too painful; but now that Elfric seemed to be commencing a similar +course of disobedience, the example of the miserable outlaw came too +forcibly to his mind to be altogether suppressed. + +"Beware, my son," added Ella, "lest the curse which fell upon Oswald +fall upon you, and your younger brother succeed to your inheritance." + +"It is not a large one," said Elfric, "and in that case, the king whom I +serve will find me a better one." + +"Is it not written, 'Put not your trust in princes?' O my son, my son; +you will bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave!" + +It was of no avail. The old thane arose in the morning with the +intention of taking Elfric home even by force, such force as Dunstan had +used, if necessary, but found that the youth had disappeared in the +night; neither could he learn what had become of him, but he shrewdly +guessed that the young king could have told him. + +Broken-hearted by his son's cruel desertion, the thane of Aescendune +returned home alone. + + + CHAPTER IX. GLASTONBURY ABBEY. + +Rich in historical associations and reputed sanctity, the abbey of +Glastonbury was the ecclesiastical centre of western England. Here grew +the holy thorn which Joseph of Arimathea had planted when, fatigued with +travel, he had struck his staff into the ground, and lo! a goodly tree; +here was the holy well of which he had drunk, and where he baptized his +converts, so that its waters became possessed of miraculous power to +heal diseases. + +Here again were memorials, dear to the vanquished Welsh; for did not +Arthur, the great King Arthur, the hero of a thousand fights, the +subject of gleeman's melody and of the minstrel's praise, lie buried +here? if indeed he were dead, and not spirited away by magic power. + +A Welsh population still existed around the abbey, for it was near the +borders of West Wales, as a large portion of Devon and Cornwall was then +called, and Exeter had not long become an English town. [xiv] The +legends of Glastonbury were nearly all of that distant day when the +Saxons and Angles had not yet discovered Britain, and she reposed safe +under the protection of mighty Rome; hence, it was the object of +pilgrimage and of deep veneration to all those of Celtic blood, while +the English were unwilling to be behind in their veneration. + +Here, in the first year of the great English king Athelstane, Dunstan +was born, the son of Herstan and Kynedred, both persons of rank--a man +destined to influence the Anglo-Saxon race first in person and then in +spirit for generations--the greatest man of his time, whether, as his +contemporaries thought, mighty for good, or, as men of narrower minds +have thought, mighty for evil. + +In his early youth, Glastonbury lay, as it lies now, in ruin and decay; +the Danes had ravaged it, and its holy walls were no longer eloquent +with prayer and praise. Yet the old inhabitants still talked with regret +of the departed glories of the fane; the pilgrim and the stranger still +visited the consecrated well, hoping to gain strength from its healing +wave, for the soil had been hallowed by the blood of martyrs and the +holy lives of saints; here kings and nobles, laying aside their +greatness, had retired to prepare for the long and endless home, and in +the calm seclusion of the cloister had found peace. + +Here the mind of the young Dunstan was moulded for his future work; +here, weak in body, but precocious in intellect, he drew in, as if with +his vital breath, legend and tradition; here, from a body of Scottish +missionaries, or, as we should now call them, Irish,[xv] +he learned with rapidity all that a boy could acquire of civil or +ecclesiastical lore, and both in Latin and in theology his progress +amazed his tutors. + +Up to this time the world had held possession of his heart, and, +balancing the advantages of a religious and a secular life, he chose, as +most young people would choose, the attractions of court, to which his +parents' rank entitled him, and leaving Glastonbury he repaired to the +court of Edmund. + +There his extraordinary talents excited envy, and he was accused of +magical arts: his harp had been heard to pour forth strains of ravishing +beauty when no human hand was near, and other like prodigies, savouring +of the black art, were said to attend him, so that he fled the court, +and took refuge with his uncle, Elphege, the Bishop of Winchester. + +A long illness followed, during which the youth, disgusted with the +world, and startled by his narrow escape from death, reversed the choice +he had previously made, and renounced the world and its pleasures. + +Ordained priest at Winchester, he was sent back with a monk's attire to +Glastonbury, where he gave himself up to austerities, such as, in a +greater or less degree, always accompanied a conversion in those days; +here miracles were reported to attend him, and stories of his personal +conflicts with the Evil One were handed from mouth to mouth, until his +fame had filled the country round.[xvi] + +The influence he rapidly acquired enabled him to commence the great work +of rebuilding Glastonbury, in which he was only interrupted by the +frequent calls which he had to court, to become the adviser of King +Edmund; where indeed he was often in the discharge of the office of +prime minister of the kingdom, and showed as much aptitude in civil as +in ecclesiastical affairs. + +Glastonbury being rebuilt, the Benedictine rule [xvii] +was introduced, and Dunstan himself became abbot. It was far the noblest +and best monastic code of the day, being peculiarly adapted to prevent +the cloister from becoming the abode of either idleness or profligacy. + +But this was not done without much opposition; the secular priests--as +the married clergy and those who lived amongst their flocks (as English +clergy do now) were called--opposed the introduction of the +Benedictine rule with all their might, and were always thorns in +Dunstan's side. + +The unfortunate Edmund, after the sad event at Pucklechurch, on the +feast of St. Augustine, was buried at Glastonbury by the abbot, and his +two sons, Edwy and Edgar, were put under Dunstan's especial care by the +new king Edred. The rest of the story is tolerably well known to our +readers. + +The first steps of Edwy's reign were all taken with a view to one great +end--to revenge himself and to destroy Dunstan, who, aware of the +royal enmity, and of his inability to restrain the sovereign, withdrew +himself quietly to Glastonbury, and confined himself to the discharge of +his duties as its abbot. + +But this did not satisfy Edwy, who, panting for the ruin of the monk he +hated, sought occasion for a quarrel, and soon found it. Dunstan had +been the royal almoner, and had had the disposal of large sums of money, +for purposes connected with the Church, on which they had been strictly +expended. Now Edwy required a strict account of all these disbursements, +which Dunstan refused to give, saying it had already been given to +Edred, and that no person had any right to investigate the charities of +the departed king. + +His stout resistance gained the day in the first instance, but Edwy +never felt at rest while Dunstan lived at peace in the land, and +Ethelgiva and her fair daughter were ever inciting him to fresh acts of +hostility, little as he needed such incitement. + +The first measures were of a very dishonourable kind. Evil reports were +spread abroad to destroy the character of the great abbot, and prepare +people's minds for his disgrace: then disaffection was stirred up +amongst the secular clergy surrounding Glastonbury--a very easy thing; +and attempts were made in vain to create a faction against him in his +own abbey; then at last the neighbouring thanes, many of Danish +extraction and scarcely Christian, were stirred up to invade the +territory of the abbey, and were promised immunity and secure possession +of their plunder. They liked the pleasant excitement of galloping over +Dunstan's ecclesiastical patrimony, of plundering the farms and driving +away the cattle, and there was scarcely a night in which some fresh +outrage was not committed. At this point the action of our tale recommences. + +It will be remembered that the father of Ella had found relief from his +grief, after the death of his unhappy son Oswald, in building and +endowing the monastery of St. Wilfred, situate on the river's bank, at a +short distance from the hall. + +The completion of the work had, however, been reserved for his son, and, +everything being now done, it became the earnest desire of Ella, with +the consent of the brethren who had been gathered into the incomplete +building, to place it under the Benedictine rule. + +For this end he determined to send a messenger to negotiate with Dunstan +at Glastonbury, and, yielding to Alfred's most earnest request, he +consented to send him, in company with Father Cuthbert, who was to be +the future prior, upon the mission. + +Since the desertion of Elfric, his brother Alfred had been as a +ministering angel to his father, so tender had been his affection, yet +so manly and pure. He was by nature gifted with great talents, and his +progress in ecclesiastical lore, almost the only lore of the day, would +have well fitted him for the Church; but if this idea had ever been in +the mind of the thane, he put it aside after the departure of Elfric. + +But it must not be supposed that the only literature of the period was +in Latin. Alfred, the great King Alfred, skillful in learning as in war, +had translated into English (as we have mentioned earlier in our tale) +the _History of the World_, by Orosius, and other works, which formed a +part of the royal library in the palace of Edred. All these works were +known to his young namesake, Alfred, far better than they had been +either to Edwy or Elfric, in their idleness, and he was well informed +beyond the average scope of his time. But his imagination had long been +fired by the accounts he had received of Glastonbury and its sanctuary, +so that he eagerly besought his father to allow him to go thither. + +But the poor old thane felt much like Jacob when he was begged to send +Benjamin into Egypt. Elfric was not, so far as home ties were concerned, +they had never heard of him since the coronation day, and now they would +take Alfred from him. + +It may seem strange to our readers that Ella should regard a journey +from the Midlands to Glastonbury in so serious a light; but Wessex and +Mercia had long been independent states, communication infrequent, and +it would certainly be many weeks before Alfred could return; while +inexperience magnified the actual dangers of the way. + +Coaches and carriages were not in use, neither would the state of the +roads have rendered such use practicable. All travellers were forced to +journey on horseback, and, like Elfric when he departed from home, to +carry all their baggage in a similar manner. + +The navigation of the Avon, which would have opened the readiest road to +the southwest, was impeded by sandbanks and rapids; there were as yet no +locks, no canals. + +Once the Romans had made matchless roads, as in other parts of their +empire, but not a stone had been laid thereon since the days of Hengist +and Horsa, and many a stone had been taken away for building purposes, +or to pave the courtyards of Saxon homes.[xviii] + +Still the ancient Foss Way, which once extended from Lincolnshire to +Devonshire, formed the best route, and it was decided to travel by it, +making a brief detour, so as to enable the party to pass the first night +at the residence of an old friend of the family who dwelt on the high +borderland which separates the counties of Oxford and Warwick, in old +times the frontier between the two Celtic tribes, the Dobuni and the +Carnabii. + +So Father Cuthbert and Alfred, with three attendant serfs, left +Aescendune early on a fine summer morning, and followed a byroad through +the forest, until, after a few difficulties, arising from entanglement +in copse or swamp, they reached the Foss Way. Wide and spacious, this +grand old road ran through the dense forest in an almost unbroken line; +huge trees overshadowed it on either side, and the growth of underwood +was so dense that no one could penetrate it without difficulty. +Sometimes the scene changed, and a dense swamp, amidst which the timber +of former generations rotted away, succeeded, but the grand old road +still offered, even in its decay, a firm and sure footing. Built with +consummate skill, the lower strata of which it was composed remained so +firm and unyielding, that, could the Romans but have returned for a few +years, they might have restored it to its ancient perfection, when the +traveller might post rapidly upon it from Lincoln even to Totness in +Devonshire. + +Little, however, did our travellers think of the grand men of old who +had built this mighty causeway six or seven centuries earlier. Their +chief feeling, when they reached it, was one of relief; the change was +so acceptable from the tangled and miry bypath through the forest. + +"Holy St. Wilfred," exclaimed Father Cuthbert, "but my steed hath +wallowed like a hog. I have sunk in the deep mire where was no footing." + +"A little grooming will soon make him clean again, father." + +"But verily we have passed through a slough and a wilderness, and my +inner man needeth refreshment; let us even partake of the savoury pies +wherewith the provident care of thy father hath provided us." + +The suggestion was by no means a bad one, and the party sat down on a +green and sloping bank, overshadowed by a mighty oak which grew by the +wayside. It was noontide, and the shelter from the heat was not at all +unpleasant. Their wallets were overhauled, and choice provision found +against famine by the road. There were few, very few inns where +travellers could obtain decent accommodation, and every preparation had +been made for a camp out when necessary. + +So they ate their midday meal with thankfulness of heart, and reclined +awhile ere courting more fatigue. The day was lovely, and the silence of +the woods almost oppressive; nought save the hum of insects broke its +tranquillity. + +Fatigued by the exertions of the morning, the whole party fell asleep; +the gentle breeze, the quiet rustling of the leaves, all combined to +lull the senses. While they thus slept, the day wore on, and the sun was +declining when they awoke and wondered that they had wasted their time +for so long a period. + +Starting again with renewed energy, they travelled onward through the +mighty forest till sunset, when they approached the high ground which +now runs along the northern boundary of Oxfordshire and of which +Edgehill forms a portion. Though progress had been slow, for the road, +although secure, was yet in so neglected a state as to form an obstacle +to rapid travelling, and they had met no fellow travellers. Leaving the +Foss Way, which followed the valley, and slowly ascending the hill by a +well-marked track, they looked back from its summit upon a glorious +view. Far as the eye could reach stretched the forest to the northward, +one huge unbroken expanse save where the thin wreaths of smoke showed +some village or homestead, where English farmers already wrestled with +the obstacles nature had formed. But westward the view was more +home-like; the setting sun was sinking behind the huge heights now known +as the Malvern Hills, which reared their forms proudly in the distant +horizon. + +The western sky was rich in the hues of the departing sun, which cast +its declining beams upon village and homestead, thinly scattered in the +fertile vale through which the Foss Way pursued its course. + +But our travellers did not stay long to contemplate the beauty of the +scene; they were yet ten miles from the hospitable roof where they had +purposed spending the night, and they had overslept themselves so long +at their noontide halt, that they found darkness growing apace, while +their weary animals could scarcely advance farther. + +"Is there no inn, no Christian dwelling near, where we may repose? +Verily my limbs bend beneath me with fatigue," said Father Cuthbert. + +"There is no dwelling of Christian men nearer than the halls of the +Thane of Rollrich, and we shall scarcely reach them for a couple of +hours," said Oswy, the serf. + +"Thou art a Job's comforter. What sayest thou, Anlac?" + +"There are the remains of an old temple of heathen times not far from +here, a little on the right hand of the road, but they say the place is +haunted." + +"Has it a roof to shelter us?" + +"Part of the ruins are well covered." + +"Then thither we will go. Peradventure it will prove a safe abiding +place against wolves or evil men, and if there be demons we must even +exorcise them." + +When they had emerged from the forest, they had, as we have seen, +ascended the high tableland which formed the northern frontier of the +territory of the Dobuni--passing over the very ground where, seven +hundred years later, the troops of the King and the Parliament were +arrayed against each other in deadly combat for the first time. + +But at this remote period the country where the Celts had once lived, +and whence their civilised descendants had been driven by the English, +had become a barren moorland. Scarce a tree grew on the heights, but a +wild common, with valley and hill alternating, much as on Dartmoor at +the present day, stretched before the travellers, and was traversed by +the old Roman trackway. Dreary indeed it looked in the darkening +twilight; here and there some huge crag overtopped the road, and then +the track lay along a flat surface. It was after passing some huge +misshapen atones, which spoke of early Celtic worship, that suddenly, in +the distance on the right, the ruined temple lay before them. + +Pillars of beautiful workmanship, evidently reared by Roman skill, +surrounded a paved quadrangle raised upon a terrace approached on all +sides by steps. These steps and the pavement were alike of stone, but +where weeds could grow they had grown, and the footing was damp and +slippery with rank vegetation and fungus growth. + +At the extremity of the quadrangle the roof still partly covered the +adytum or shrine from the sky, the platform reared itself upon its +flight of massive steps where early British Christianity had demolished +the idol, and beneath were chambers once appropriated to the use of the +priests, which, by the aid of fire, could shortly be made habitable. + +There was plenty of brushwood and underwood near, and our travellers +speedily made a large fire, which expelled the damp from the place, +albeit, as the smoke could only escape by an aperture in the roof, +which, it is needless to say, was not embraced in the original design of +the architect, it was not till the blaze had subsided and the glowing +embers alone warmed the chamber, that mortal lungs could bear the +stifling atmosphere, so charged had it been with smoke. + +Still it was very acceptable shelter to the travellers, who must +otherwise have camped out on the exposed moorland, and they made a +hearty and comfortable meal, which being concluded, Father Cuthbert made +a very brief address. + +"My brethren," he said, "we have travelled, like Abraham from Ur of the +Chaldees, not '_sine numine_,' that is not without God's protection; and +as we are about to sleep in a place where devils once deluded Christian +people, it will not be amiss to say the night song, and commend +ourselves '_in manus Altissimi_,' that is to say, to God's care." + +The compline service was familiar to each one present, and Father +Cuthbert intoned it in a stentorian voice, particularly those portions +of the 91st Psalm which seemed to defy the Evil One, and he recited just +as if he were sure Satan was listening: + +"Thou shalt go upon the lion and the adder; the young lion and the +dragon shalt thou tread under thy feet." + +All the company seemed to feel comfort in the words, and, first posting +a sentinel, to be relieved every three hours, they commended themselves +to sleep. + +Alfred found his couch very pleasant at first, but before he had been +long asleep his rest became disturbed by singular dreams. He thought he +was standing within a grassy glade in a deep forest; it was darkening +twilight, and he felt anxious to find his way from the spot, when his +guardian angel appeared to him, and pointed out a narrow track between +two huge rocks. He followed until he heard many voices, and saw a +strange light reflected on the tree tops, as if from beneath, when +amidst the din of voices he recognised Elfric's tones. + +"Wouldst thou save thy brother, then proceed," his guardian angel seemed +to whisper. + +He strove, in his dream, to proceed, when he awoke so vividly impressed +that he felt convinced coming events were casting their shadows before. +He could not drive the thought of Elfric from his mind; he slept, but +again in wild dreams his brother seemed to appear; once he seemed to +oppose Elfric's passage over a plank which crossed a roaring torrent; +then he seemed as if he were falling, falling, amidst rushing waters, +when he awoke. + +"I can sleep no longer. I will look out at the night," he said. + +A faint moon had arisen, and lent an uncertain light to the outlines of +hill, crag, and moorland, while it gilded the cornice above, where the +wind seemed to linger and moan over departed greatness. The Druidical +worship of olden days, the deluded worshippers now turned into dust, and +the cruel rites of their bloodstained worship, older even than those of +the ruined temple, rose before his imagination, until fancy seemed to +people the silent wastes before him with those who had once crowded +round that circle of misshapen stones which stood out vividly on the +verge of the plain. + +He felt that nameless fear which such thoughts excite so strongly, that +he sought the company of the sentinel whom they had posted to guard +their slumbers, and found not one but two at the post. + +"Oswy and Anlac! both watching?" + +"It was too lonesome for one," said Oswy. + +"Have you seen or heard aught amiss?" + +"Yes. About an hour ago, there were cries such as men make when they die +in torture, smothered by other sounds like the beating of drums, blowing +of horns, and I know not what." + +"You were surely dreaming?" + +"No; it came from yonder circle of stones, and a light like that of a +great fire seemed to shine around." + +Alfred made no reply; but he remembered that they had talked of the +Druidical rites the night before, and thought that the idea had taken +such hold upon the minds of his followers as to suggest the sounds to +their fancy. Still he watched with them till the first red streak of day +appeared in the east. + + + CHAPTER X. ELFRIC AND ALFRED. + +Early in the morning our travellers arose and took their way through an +open country which abounded with British and Roman remains; no fewer +than three entrenched camps, once fortifying the frontier of the Dobuni, +lying within sight or hard by the road, which, skirting the summit of +the watershed between the Thames and the Avon, afforded magnificent views. + +About an hour after starting they came upon a singular monument of +Druidical times, consisting of sixty huge stones arranged in a circular +form, with an entrance at the northeast, while a single rock or large +stone, the largest of all, stood apart from the circle, as if looking +down into the valley beneath.[xix] + +"What can be the origin of this circle?" said Alfred. + +"It belongs to the old days of heathenesse; before the Welsh were +conquered by the Romans, perhaps before our Blessed Lord came into the +world, these stones were placed as you now see them," replied Father +Cuthbert. + +"What purpose could they serve?" + +"For their devil worship, I suppose; you see those five stones which +stand at some little distance?" + +"They are the Five Whispering Knights," said Oswy. + +"They are the remains of a cromlech or altar whereon they offered their +sons and daughters unto devils, and shed innocent blood, wherefore the +Lord brought the Romans upon them." + +"But the Romans were idolatrous, too." + +"Yet their religion was milder than the one it superseded. Jupiter +required no human sacrifices; and even otherwise, God has said that the +wicked man is often His sword to avenge Him of His adversaries." + +"Oswy looks as if he had a tale to tell." + +"Speak out, Oswy, and let us all hear," said the good father. + +"Well, then," said Oswy, "these were not once stones at all, but living +men--a king, five knights, and sixty soldiers--who came to take Long +Compton, the town down there, in the valley; but it so happened that a +great enchanter dwelt there, and being out that morning he saw them +coming, muttered his spells, and while the king--that stone yonder-- +was in front looking down on his prey, the five knights all whispering +together, and the sixty soldiers behind in a circle, they were all +suddenly changed into stone." + +They all laughed heartily at this, and leaving the Rholdrwyg Stones, +turned aside to the hospitable hall where they ought to have spent the +previous night. So delighted was the Thane of Rholdrwyg or Rollrich to +receive his guests that he detained them almost by force all that day, +and it was only on the morrow that he permitted them to continue their +journey. + +They joined the Foss Way again after a few miles at Stow on the Wold; +the road was so good that they succeeded in reaching Cirencester, the +ancient Corinium, that night, a distance of nearly thirty miles. Here +they found a considerable population, for the town had been one of great +importance, and was still one of the chief cities of southern Mercia, +full of the remains of her departed Roman greatness, with shattered +column and shapely arch yet diversifying the thatched hovels of the +Mercians. + +Two more days brought them to Bath, but the old Roman city had been +utterly destroyed, and long subsequently the English town had been +founded upon its site, so that there seemed no identity between Bath and +Aqua Solis, such as prevailed between Cirencester and Corinium. + +One day's journey from Bath brought them at eventide within an easy day +of Glastonbury, so that they paused in their journey for the last time +at a well-known hostelry, chiefly occupied by pilgrims bound for +Glastonbury, for the morrow was a high festival, or rather the +commencement of one, and Dunstan was expected to conduct the ceremonies +in person. + +So crowded was the hostelry that Alfred and his revered tutor could only +obtain a small chamber for their private accommodation, while their +servants were forced to content themselves with such share of the straw +of the outbuildings as they could obtain, in company with many others. + +It was still early when they stopped at the inn, for one of their +horses, which they had purchased by the way, had broken down so +completely that they could not well proceed, and they were about to +enter a dark and dangerous forest, full of ravenous bears and wolves, +which had already cast its shade upon their path. + +But this was not an uncommon feature in English travelling of that +century, when there were no horses to be hired at the inns, and +travellers could only purchase the animals they needed (if there were +any to be sold); the forest, too, was reported to be the haunt of +freebooters, and men dared to affirm that they were encouraged by the +king to prey upon the fraternity at Glastonbury. + +Still the dangers of the forest did not deter Alfred, who dearly loved +woodland scenery and sport, from strolling therein when their hasty meal +had been despatched, weary of the continuous objurgations and smalltalk +of the crowded inn. + +He had wandered some distance, lost in thought, when all at once he +started in some surprise, for the spot on which he was seemed familiar +to him, although he had never been in Wessex before. + +Yes, he certainly knew the glade, with the fine beech trees surrounding +it: where could he have seen it before? All at once he remembered his +dream in the ruined temple, and started to discover the secret +foreknowledge he had thus possessed. + +He wandered up and down the glade till it became dusk, and then shook +off the thoughts to which he had been a prey, and started to return to +the inn, when, to his dismay, he found he had forgotten in which +direction it lay. + +While seeking to find the path by which he had entered the glade, he +suddenly noticed a beaten track between two huge rocks, which seemed to +point in the direction he had come, and yet which he recognised as the +path he had been bidden to follow in his dream. He hesitated not, but +committed himself to it, while darkness seemed to increase each moment. + +He was beginning to fear the dangers of a night in the woods, when he +was startled by a sound as of many low voices, and at the same moment +became conscious that a light was tinging with red the upper branches of +the trees at no little distance, as if proceeding from some fire, hidden +by the formation of the ground. + +At first he thought that he was in the neighbourhood of outlaws, and +tried to retire, but, as in his dream, he felt so strong an impulse to +discover the party whom the woods concealed that he persevered. + +Suddenly he stopped short, for he had come to the edge of a kind of +natural amphitheatre, a deep hollow in the earth, the sides of which +were covered with bushes and trees, while the area at the bottom might +perhaps have covered a hundred square yards, and was clothed with +verdant turf. Not one, but several fires were burning, and around them +were reclining small groups of armed men, while some were walking about +chatting with each other. + +Alfred gazed in much surprise, for the party did not at all realise his +conception of a body of freebooters or robbers; they all seemed to wear +the same uniform, and to resemble each other in their accoutrements and +characteristics; they rather resembled, in short, a detachment of +regular forces than a body of men whom chance might have thrown +together, or the fortune of predatory war. + +While he gazed upon them, two of their number, whose attire was rich and +costly, and who seemed to be of higher rank than the rest, perhaps their +officers, attracted his attention as they walked near the spot where, +clinging to a tree, he overlooked the encampment from above. + +One of them was a tall, dark warrior, whose whole demeanour was that of +the professional soldier, whose dress was plain yet rich, and who might +easily be guessed to be the commander of the party. He was talking +earnestly, but in a subdued tone, to his younger companion, whom he +seemed to be labouring to convince of the propriety of some course of +action. + +Alfred watched them eagerly; the form of the younger--for so he +appeared by his slender frame--seemed familiar to him, and when at +last they turned their faces and walked towards him, the light of a +neighbouring fire showed him the face of his brother Elfric. + +"My dream!" he mentally exclaimed. + +They were evidently talking about some very important subject, and it +was also evident that the objections of the younger, whatever they might +be, were becoming rapidly overruled, when, as chance, if it were chance, +would have it, they paused in their circuit of the little camp just +beneath the tree where Alfred was posted. + +"You see," said the elder, "that our course is clear, so definitely +clear that we have but to do our duty to the king, while we avenge a +thousand little insults we have ourselves received from this insolent +monk--such insults as warriors wash out with blood." + +"Yet he is a churchman, and it would be called utter sacrilege." + +"Sacrilege! is a churchman's blood redder than that of layman, and is he +not doomed as a traitor by a judgment as righteous as ever English law +pronounced! did he not keep Edwy from his throne during the lifetime of +the usurper Edred!" + +"That was the sentence of the Witan, and you served Edred." + +"I did not owe the allegiance of an Englishman to either, being of +foreign birth, and so was no traitor; as for the Witan, it is well known +Dunstan influenced their decision at the death of the royal Edmund." + +"I never heard the assertion before." + +"You have many things still to learn; you are but young as yet. But let +it pass. Does not his conduct to Queen Elgiva merit death!" + +"I think it does. But still not without sentence of law." + +"That sentence has been in fact pronounced, for in such cases as these, +where the subject is too powerful for the direct action of the law to +reach him, the decision of the king and council must pass for law, and +they have decided that Dunstan must die, and have left the execution of +the sentence--to us." + +He did not add that the council in question consisted of the giddy young +nobles who had surrounded Edwy from the first, aided by a few hoary +sinners whose lives of plunder and rapine had given them a personal +hatred of the Church. + +Elfric heaved a sigh, and said: + +"If so, I suppose I must obey; but I wish I had not been sent on the +expedition." + +"It is to test your loyalty." + +"Then it shall be proved. I have no personal motives of gratitude +towards Dunstan." + +"Rather the contrary." + +"Rather the contrary, as you say. But what sound was that? Surely +something stirred the bush!" + +"A rabbit or a hare. You are becoming fanciful and timid. Well, you will +remember that tomorrow there must be no timidity, no yielding to what +some would call conscience, but wise men the scruples of superstition. +We shall not reach the monastery till dark, most of the visitors will +then have quitted it, and we shall take the old fox in a trap." + +"You will not slay him in cold blood!" + +"No. I shall bid him follow me to the king, and if he and his resist, as +probably they will, then their blood be on their own heads. But surely--" + +At that moment a large stone, which Alfred had most inopportunely +dislodged, rolled down the bank, and made Elfric, who was in its path, +leap aside. Alfred, whose foot had rested upon it, slipped, and for a +moment seemed in danger of following the stone, but he had happily time +to grasp the tree securely, and by its aid he drew himself back and +darted into the wood. + +Luckily there was moonlight enough to guide him by the track he had +hitherto followed, and he ran forward, dreading nothing so much as to +fall into the hands of the friends of his brother, and trusting that he +might prevent the execution of the foul deed he had heard meditated. He +ran for a long distance before he paused, when he became aware that +pursuers were on his track. Luckily his life had been spent so much in +the open air that he was capable of great exertion, and could run well. +So he resumed his course, although he knew not where it would lead him, +and soon had the pleasure of feeling that he was distancing his +pursuers. Yet every time he ran over a piece of smooth turf he fancied +he could hear them in his rear, and it was with the greatest feeling of +relief that he suddenly emerged from the wood upon the Foss Way, and saw +the lights of the hostelry at no great distance below him. + +His pursuers did not follow him farther, probably unwilling to betray +their presence to the neighbourhood, and perhaps utterly unconscious +that the intruder upon their peace was possessed of any dangerous +secrets, or other than some rustic woodman belated on his homeward way, +who would be unable in any degree to interfere with them or to guess +their designs. + +But it was not till the ardour of his flight had abated, that Alfred +could fully realise that his unhappy brother was committed to a deed of +scandalous atrocity, and the discovery was hard for him to bear. The +strong impression which his dream had made upon him--an impression +that he was to be the means of saving his brother from some great sin-- +came upon him now with greater force than ever, and was of great +comfort. The identity of the scenery he had seen in dreamland with the +actual scenery he had gone through, made him feel that he was under the +special guidance of Providence. + +Returning to the inn he sought Father Cuthbert, and found him somewhat +uneasy at his long absence, and to him he communicated all that he had +seen and heard. + +The good father was a man of sound sense but of much affection, and at +first he could not credit that the boy he had loved so well, Elfric of +Aescendune, should have grown to be the associate of murderers, for such +only could either he or Alfred style the agents of Edwy's wrath. + +But, once fully convinced, he was equal to the emergency. + +"We will not start at once, we should but break down on the road, and +defeat our own object. We must rest quietly, and sleep soundly if +possible, and start with the earliest dawn. We shall reach Glastonbury +by midday, and be able to warn the holy abbot of his danger in good time." + +So Alfred was forced to curb his impatience and to try to sleep soundly. +Father Cuthbert soon gave good assurance that he was asleep; but the +noisy manner in which the assurance was given banished sleep from the +eyelids of his anxious pupil. At length he yielded to weariness both of +mind and body, and the overwrought brain was still. + +He was but little refreshed when he heard Father Cuthbert's morning +salutation, "_Benedicamus Domino_," and could hardly stammer out the +customary reply, "_Deo gratias_." + +Every one rose early in those days, and the timely departure of the +party from Aescendune excited no special comment. Hundreds of pilgrims +were on the road, and Alfred expressed his conviction that there would +be force enough at Glastonbury to protect Dunstan, to which Father +Cuthbert replied--"If he would accept such protection." + +On former days their journey had been frequently impeded by broken +bridges and dangerous fords; but as they drew near Glastonbury the +presence of a mighty civilising power became manifest. The fields were +well tilled, for the possessions for miles around the abbey were let to +tenant farmers by the monks, who had first reclaimed them from the +wilderness. The farm houses and the abodes of the poor were better +constructed, and the streams were all bridged over, while the old Roman +road was kept in tolerable repair. + +A short distance before they reached the city, the pilgrims, who were a +space in advance of the party, came in sight of the towers of the +monastery, whereupon they all paused for one moment, and raised the +solemn strain then but recently composed-- + +I. +Founded on the Rock of Ages, +Salem, city of the blest, +Built of living stones most precious, +Vision of eternal rest, +Angel hands, in love attending, +Thee in bridal robes invest. +II. +Down from God all new descending +Thee our joyful eyes behold, +Like a bride adorned for spousals, +Decked with radiant wealth untold; +All thy streets and walls are fashioned, +All are bright with purest gold! +III. +Gates of pearl, for ever open, +Welcome there the loved, the lost; +Ransomed by their Saviour's merits; +This the price their freedom cost: +City of eternal refuge, +Haven of the tempest-tost. +IV. +Fierce the blow, and firm the pressure, +Which hath polished thus each stone: +Well the Mastermind hath fitted +To his chosen place each one. +When the Architect takes reck'ning, +He will count the work His Own. +V. +Glory be to God, the Father; +Glory to th' Eternal Son; +Glory to the Blessed Spirit: +One in Three, and Three in One. +Glory, honour, might, dominion, +While eternal ages run. +Amen.[xx] + +The grand strains seemed to bring assurance of Divine aid to Alfred, and +he could but imitate Father Cuthbert, who lifted up his stentorian voice +and thundered out in chorus, as they drew near the pilgrims. + +Here they left the Foss Way for the side road leading to the monastery, +now only a short distance from them. + + + CHAPTER XI. THE FLIGHT OF DUNSTAN. + +It was the day of St. Alban, the protomartyr of England, and the saint +was greatly honoured at Glastonbury, where, as we have seen, Dunstan was +in residence, and, as a natural consequence, every department of the +monastic life was quickened by his presence. The abbey was full of monks +who had professed the Benedictine rule, and having but recently been +rebuilt, it possessed many improvements hardly yet introduced into +English architecture in general. The greater part of the building was of +stone, and it was not, in its general features, unlike some of the older +colleges at Oxford or Cambridge, although the order of the architecture +was, of course, exclusively that of the Saxon period, characterised by +the heavy and massive, yet imposing, circular arch. + +But upon the church or abbey chapel all the skill of the architect had +been concentrated, and it seemed worthy alike of its founder and of its +object. Seen upon the morning in question, when the bright summer sun +filled every corner with gladsome light, just as the long procession of +white-robed priests, and monks in their sombre garb, with their hoods +thrown back, were entering for high mass, and the choral psalm arose, it +was peculiarly imposing. + +The procession had not long entered the church, when the party of +pilgrims we have described, closely followed by our friends from +Aescendune, entered the quadrangle, and crossed it to the great porch of +the church. It was with the greatest difficulty they could enter, for +the whole floor of the huge building was crowded with kneeling +worshippers. The portion of Scripture appointed for the epistle was +being chanted, and the words struck Alfred's ears as he entered--"He +pleased God, and was beloved of Him, so that, living among sinners, he +was translated." + +The words seemed to come upon him with special application to the danger +the great abbot was in, and the thought that the martyr's day might be +stained by a deed of blood, or, as some might say, hallowed by another +martyrdom, added to his agitation. + +And now he had gained a position where the high altar was in full view, +illuminated by its countless tapers, and fragrant with aromatic odours. +There, in the centre of the altar, his face turned to the people as the +sequence was ended, and the chanting of the gospel from the rood loft +began, stood the celebrant, and Alfred gazed for the first time upon the +face of Dunstan, brought out in strong relief by the glare of the +artificial light. + +He strove earnestly to concentrate his thoughts upon the sacred words. +They were from the sixteenth of St. Matthew, beginning at the words: + +"Then said Jesus unto His disciples, If any man will come after Me, let +him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. + +"For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it and whosoever will lose +his life for My sake, shall find it." + +He could not but feel the strange coincidence that words such as these +should come to strengthen him, when he felt he had most need to shelter +himself under the shadow of the Cross. The service proceeded, the creed, +sanctus, and other choral portions being sung by the whole monastic body +in sonorous strains; and for a time Alfred was able to make a virtue of +necessity, and to give himself wholly to the solemnity; but when it was +over and the procession left the church, he sought an immediate +interview with the abbot, in company with Father Cuthbert. + +Dunstan had removed his sacerdotal garments, and had returned to his own +cell, which only differed in size from the cells of his brethren. The +furniture was studiously plain: hard wooden chairs; an unvarnished +table; a wooden bedstead, with no bed, and only a loose coverlet of +sackcloth; the walls uncovered by tapestry; the floor unfurnished with +rushes;--such was the chamber of the man who had ruled England, and +still exercised the most unbounded spiritual influence in the land. + +There was no ostentation in this; every monk in the monastery lived in +similar simplicity. Precious books and manuscripts, deeply laden with +gold and colours, were deposited on coarse wooden shelves, while the +Benedictine Breviary lay on the table, written by some learned and +painstaking scribe, skilful in illumination. + +The appearance of the abbot was little changed since we last beheld him; +perhaps care had traced a few more lines in his countenance, and his +general manner was more prompt and decided, now that danger menaced him, +for menace him he knew it did, although he hardly knew from what quarter +the bolt would fall. + +A lay brother brought him some slight refreshment, the first he had +taken during the day. + +The humility inculcated by each precept of the order forbade the brother +in question to speak until his superior gave him leave to do so; but +Dunstan read at once the desire of his subordinate, and said: + +"What hast thou to tell me, Brother Osgood?" + +"Many people are without, seeking speech of thee." + +"This is the case each day; are there any whose business appears pressing?" + +"A company has arrived from Aescendune, or some such place in Mercia, +and two of the party--a priest and a young layman--seek an immediate +interview, saying their business is of life and death." + +"Aescendune!--admit them first." + +The brother left the cell at once, and soon returned, ushering in Father +Cuthbert and Alfred, who saluted the great churchman with all due +humility, and waited for him to speak, not without much evident +uneasiness; perhaps some little impatience was also manifest. + +"Are you of the house of Aescendune, my son?" enquired Dunstan of +Alfred. "Methinks I know you by your likeness to your brother Elfric." + +"I am the son of Ella, father; we have been sent on pressing business, +which is notified by this parchment" (presenting the formal request on +the part of the brethren of Aescendune, which was the original cause of +their journey) "but we have yet a more pressing matter to bring before +you: wicked men seek your life, my father." + +"I am well aware of that; surely you do not dream, my son, that my eyes +are closed to a fact known throughout unhappy England." + +"But, my father, I speak of immediate danger, which God in His great +mercy enabled me to discover but last night; this very night the abbey +will be attacked, and your life or liberty in danger." + +"This night!" said Dunstan, in surprise; "and how have you discovered +this? Do not hesitate, my son tell me all." + +Thus adjured, Alfred repeated the whole story of his discovery of the +concealed expedition. + +"You saw the leaders closely then?" said Dunstan, when he had finished; +"describe the elder one to me." + +"A tall dark man, like a foreign soldier, in plain but rich apparel, a +scar on the right cheek." + +"Stay, my son, I know him; his name is Redwald, and he is the captain of +the king's bodyguard. Now describe the other with whom he held converse." + +"Father, I cannot." + +"My son--" but Dunstan paused, for he saw that poor Alfred had covered +his face with his hands, and he at once divined the truth, with full +conviction, at the same time, of the truth and earnestness of Alfred's +statement. + +"My son, God can dispose and turn the hearts of all men as seemeth best +to His wisdom; and I doubt not, in answer to our fervent prayers, He +will turn the heart of your poor brother. Meanwhile, we ourselves will +take such precautions as shall spare him the guilt of sacrilege. + +"Brother Osgood, summon the prior to my presence, and cause the brethren +to assemble, one and all, in the chapter house: we have need of instant +deliberation." + +The lay brother departed, and Dunstan, whose cheerfulness did not desert +him for one moment, chatted familiarly with Father Cuthbert, or perused +the parchment the good father had just presented through Alfred. + +"It is a great and pleasing thing," he said, "to behold how our Order is +spreading through this benighted land, and how spiritual children arise +everywhere to our holy father Benedict; surely the time is near at hand +when the wilderness shall blossom as the rose." + +The prior, Father Guthlac, entered at this moment, and Dunstan talked +apart with him for some moments with extreme earnestness, but only the +last words which passed between them were audible. + +"Yes, my brother, you have the words of Scripture," said Dunstan, "to +support your proposal: 'When they persecute you in one city, flee ye +unto another.'" + +"Yet it is hard to leave a spot one has reared with such tender care." + +"There was One Who left more for us; and I do not think they will +destroy the place, or even attempt to destroy it: they will fill it with +those 'slow bellies, those evil beasts,' the secular clergy, with their +wives." + +"Fitter it should be a stye for hogs." [xxi] + +"Nay, they are men after all; yet there is some reason to fear that, +like hogs, they wallow in the mire of sensuality; but their day will be +but a short one." + +"My father!" + +"But a short one; it hath been foreshown me in visions of the night that +the Evil One will triumph indeed, but that his triumph will be very +short; and, alas a green tree which standeth in the pride of its youth +and might must, ere the close of that triumph, be hewn down." + +"By our hands, father?" + +"God forbid! by the Hand of God, I speak but as it has been revealed to me." + +It was a well-known fact that Dunstan either was subject to marvellous +hallucinations, and was a monomaniac on that one point, while so wise in +all other matters, or that he was the object of special revelations, and +was favoured with spiritual visions, as well as temptations, which do +not ordinarily fall within the observation or experience of men. + +So Father Guthlac and the rest of the company listened with the greatest +reverence to his declaration, as to the words of an inspired oracle. + +"But let us go to our brethren; they await us," said Dunstan, speaking +to the prior. "Brother Osgood, take these our guests to the +refectorarius, and ask him to see that they and all their company taste +our bounty at least this day; tomorrow we may have nought to offer them." + +In the famous chapter of the whole house of Glastonbury which followed, +and which became historical, prompt resolution was taken on Dunstan's +report, which did honour to the brotherhood, as evincing both their +resignation and their trust in God, Who they believed would, to use the +touching phrase of the Psalmist, "turn their captivity as the rivers in +the south;" so that they "who went forth weeping, bearing good seed, +should come again with joy, and bring their sheaves with them." + +So it was at once agreed that the whole community should break up +immediately; that within the next hour all the monks should depart for +the various monasteries of the Benedictine order; and that Dunstan +himself, with but two companions, should take refuge across the sea, +sailing from the nearest port on the Somersetshire coast. + +A dozen of the brethren were to return with Father Cuthbert and Alfred +to Aescendune at once, and to bear with them all the necessary powers +for the accomplishment of the good thane's wishes in regard to the +monastery of St. Wilfred, while Father Cuthbert was then and there +admitted by Dunstan to the order of St. Benedict--the necessity of the +case justifying some departure from the customary formalities. + +All being completely ordered and arranged, the chapter broke up, and +within an hour the monks were leaving as rapidly as boys leave school +when breaking-up day comes, but not quite so joyously. They strove to +attract as little attention as possible, and, in most cases, travelled +in the ordinary dress of the country. + +Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines who were to accompany him on his +return---so much more speedy than had been anticipated--were already +prepared to start, when, to their surprise, Alfred could not be found. + +Alfred was at that moment in the cell of Dunstan, with whom he had +obtained, not without great trouble, another brief interview. + +"God bless you, my son," said Dunstan, "and render unto you according to +all you have done for His glory this day, and restore you your brother +safe in body and soul!" + +But it was not merely for a blessing that Alfred had sought the abbot. + +"Father," he said, "if I have happily been of service to you, I ask but +one favour in return; one brother has sought your life, let the other +remain with you as a bodyguard." + +"But your father?" + +"I am satisfied that I am but speaking as he would have me speak." + +"But you will become an exile." + +"Gladly, if I can but serve you, father." + +"But, my child, I have no means of support for you abroad; as monks we +shall find hospitality in every Benedictine house, but you are only a +layman." + +"Then, father, I but ask you to allow me to accompany you to the coast." + +"I grant it, my son, for I believe God inspires the wish. Be it as you +desire, but one of your serfs must accompany you; it would not be safe +to travel home alone." + +So Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines started back to Aescendune +without Alfred, bearing Dunstan's explanation of the matter to the +half-bereaved father whose faith, they feared, would be sorely tried, +and leaving Oswy to be his companion. + +It was now drawing near nightfall, and the abbey was almost deserted; +all the pilgrims had left with the monks, although many of them would +willingly have put their trust in the arm of flesh and remained to fight +for Dunstan against his temporal foes, even as he--so they piously +believed--routed their spiritual enemies. In that vast abbey there +were now but six persons--Dunstan, Guthlac, Alfred, the lay brother +Osgood, Oswy, and a guide who knew all the bypaths of the country. + +Desolate and solitary indeed seemed the huge pile of untenanted +buildings as the evening breeze swept through them. The last straggler +had gone; Dunstan was still in his cell arranging or destroying certain +papers, the guide and lay brothers held six strong and serviceable +horses in the courtyard below, near the open gate, impatient to start, +and blaming secretly the dilatoriness of their great chieftain. They +watched the sun as he sank lower and lower in the western sky, and +thought of the woods and forests they must traverse, frequented by +wolves, and sometimes by outlaws whom they dreaded far more. Still +Dunstan did not appear. + +Alfred and Guthlac, on a watchtower above, gazed on the plain stretched +before them. Mile after mile it extended towards that forest where the +enemy was now known to lurk, and they watched each road, nay, each copse +and field, with jealous eye, lest it should conceal an enemy. Ofttimes +the shadow of some passing cloud, as it swept over moor or mere, was +taken for an armed host; ofttimes the wind, as it sighed amongst the +trees and blew the dried leaves hither and thither, seemed to carry the +warning "An enemy is near." + +At length danger seemed to show itself plainly: just as the sun set, a +dark shadow moved from a distant angle of the forest on the plain +beneath, and the words "The enemy!" escaped simultaneously from Alfred +and Guthlac as the setting sun seemed reflected upon spear and sword, +flashing in a hundred points as they caught the reflection of the +departing luminary. + +Alfred, at the prior's desire, hurried to the chamber of Dunstan. + +"Father," he said, "the enemy are near. They have left the forest." + +"That is four miles in distance: there will be time for me to finish +this letter to my brother of Abingdon." + +"But, father, their horses may be fleeter than ours." + +"We are under God's protection: I am sure we shall not be overtaken: be +at peace, my son." + +Poor Alfred felt as if his faith were very sorely tried indeed, but he +strove to acquiesce. + +It was now quite dark, and the ears of the would-be fugitives were +strained to catch the sounds which should warn them of approaching danger. + +At length they fancied they heard sounds arise from the plain before +them: suppressed noises, such as must unavoidably be made by a force on +its passage; and Alfred again sought the cell of Dunstan, yet dared not +enter, urgent though the emergency seemed. + +At this moment he was startled by a demoniacal burst of laughter, which +seemed to fill the corridor in which he waited with exultant joy. + +What could it be? he felt as if he had never heard such laughter before +--so terrible, yet so boisterous. + +A moment of dread silence, and then it began again, and filled each +corridor and chamber. + +At that moment Dunstan came forth, and saw the pale face of Alfred. + +"It is only the devil," he said "we are not ignorant of his devices. + +"O Satan! thou that wert once an angel in heaven, art thou reduced to +bray like a jackass?" [xxii] + +Again the exultant peal resounded. + +"Be at peace," said the abbot; "thou rejoicest at my departure; I shall +soon return to defy thee and thy allies." + +And the laughter ceased. + +"We must lose no time," he said; "the moment is at hand." + +Locking each door behind him, he reached the party in the courtyard, and +each person mounted in a moment; then they passed under the great +archway. Oswy had remained behind one moment to lock the great gates, +and then they all rode forth boldly into the darkness. + +They passed rapidly in a direction at right angles to that in which +their pursuers were approaching, and at the distance of a mile they +halted for one moment to ascertain the cause of a great uproar which +suddenly arose. It was not difficult to divine its cause: it was the +heating of axes and hammers on the great outer door of the monastery. + +"It will occupy them nearly an hour," said Dunstan, "and we shall be far +far away before they have succeeded in effecting an entrance." + +So they rode on rapidly into the night. Before them lay the Foss Way, +the road was good and well known to them, the moon was shining brightly, +and their spirits rose with the excitement and the exertion. Onward! Onward! + + + CHAPTER XII. AT HIS WORST. + +The unhappy Elfric had indeed fallen from his former self before he +reached the depth at which our readers have just seen him, joining with +Redwald in the unhallowed enterprise so happily frustrated, if indeed it +were yet frustrated, by his own brother. + +But when his father had returned to Aescendune alone, Elfric felt that +home ties were shattered, and that he had nothing but the royal favour +to depend upon, so he yielded to the wishes of King Edwy in all points. + +Immediately after his coronation, the reckless and ill-advised Edwy had +married Elgiva, [xxiii] in defiance of the ban of the Church, and then +had abandoned himself to the riotous society and foolish counsels of +young nobles vainer than those who cost Rehoboam so large a portion of +his kingdom. Amongst these Elfric was soon conspicuous and soon a +leader. His spirit and physical courage far beyond his years excited +their admiration, and in return they taught him all the mysteries of +evil which were yet unknown to him. + +Under such influences both the king and his favourite threw off all +outward semblance even of religion, and only sought the means of +enjoyment. Redwald ministered without reserve or restraint to all their +pleasures, and under his evil influence Edwy even found occasion to rob +and plunder his own grandmother, a venerable Saxon princess, in order +that he might waste the ill-gotten substance in riotous living. + +Yet there was a refinement in his vice: he did not care for coarse +sensual indulgence to any great extent; his wickedness was that of a +sensitive cultivated intellect, of a highly-wrought nervous temperament. +Unscrupulous--careless of truth--contemptuous of religion--yet he +had all that attraction in his person which first endeared him to +Elfric, whom he really loved. Alas! his love was deadly as the breath of +the upas tree to his friend and victim. When the first measures of +vengeance were taken against Dunstan, with the concurrence of wicked but +able ministers of state, Redwald was selected as the agent who should +bribe the thanes, and begin the course of conduct which should +eventually lead to the destruction of the enemy of the king. He had only +waited till the temper of the times seemed turned against Dunstan (he +judged it wrongly); and the king seemed secure against every foe ere he +planned the expedition we have introduced to our readers. + +We will now resume the thread of our narrative. + +When the band of soldiers, headed by Redwald, had gained the gates of +the monastery, they found them, as we have seen, firmly locked and barred. + +"Blow your horns; rouse up these sleepy monks to some purpose," said +Redwald. "Why, they have not a light about the place." + +A loud and vigorous blast of horns was blown, while the greater part of +the troop dismounted and paused impatiently for an answer from within. + +"Two or three of you step forward with your axes," exclaimed Redwald. + +They did so, and thundered on the gate without any success, so stoutly +was it made. + +"What can it mean?" said Redwald. "All is silent as the grave." + +"No; there is some one laughing at us," said Elfric. + +A peal of merry laughter was heard within. + +Redwald was thoroughly enraged, and seizing an axe with his own hand, he +set the example of applying it to the gate, but without any result save +to split a few planks, while the iron framework, designed by Dunstan +himself, who was clever at such arts, held as firmly as ever. + +Unprovided with other means of forcing it, the besiegers had recourse to +fire, and gathering fuel with some difficulty, they piled it against the +gate. Shortly the woodwork caught, and the whole gate presently yielded +to the action of the fire; the iron bars, loosened by the destruction of +the woodwork, gave way, and the besiegers rushed into the quadrangle. +Here, all was dark and silent, not a sound to be heard or a light seen. + +"What can it mean? Have they fled? You all heard the laughter!" + +"There it is again." + +The boisterous and untimely mirth had begun just within the abbot's +lodgings, and the doorway at the foot was immediately attacked. It +presently yielded, and Redwald, who had obtained a good notion of the +place, rushed with his chief villains to the chamber he knew to be +Dunstan's; yet he began to fear failure, for the absence of all the +inmates was disheartening. No, not all, for there was the loud laughter +within the very chamber of the abbot. + +The door was fastened securely, and while the axes were doing their +destructive work upon it, the mocking laughter was again heard. Redwald +had become so enraged that he mentally vowed the direst vengeance upon +the untimely jester, when the door burst open and he rushed in. + +"Where is he? Surely there was some one here?" + +"Who could it be? We all heard the laughter." + +But victim there was none; and searching all the place in vain, they had +to satiate their vengeance by destroying the humble furniture of the abbot. + +What to do next they knew not, and Redwald, deeply mystified, was +reluctantly forced to own his discomfiture, and to prepare to pass the +night in the abbey. Accordingly, his men dispersed in search of food and +wine. Some found their way to the buttery; it was but poorly supplied, +all the provisions in the place having been given to the poorer pilgrims +by the departing monks. The cellar was not so easily emptied, and such +wine as had been stored up for future use was at once appropriated. + +Redwald and Elfric, having shared the common meal gloomily, were seated +in the abbot's chamber--little did Elfric dream that his brother had +so recently been in the same room--when one of the guards entered, +bringing with him a stranger. He turned out to be a neighbouring thane, +one of those bitter enemies to Dunstan whom Edwy had planted round the +monastery, and he came to give information that he had seen Dunstan with +five companions escaping by the Foss Way. + +Redwald jumped up eagerly. "How long since?" he asked. + +"About two hours, and ten miles off, I was returning home from a distant +farm of mine." + +"Why did you not stop them?" + +"I was too weak for that; they were six to one. I heard you had been +seen coming here by a cowherd, and came to warn you. If you ride fast +you may catch the holy fox yet before he runs to earth; but you must be +very quick." + +"What pace were they riding?" + +"Slowly at that moment; it was up a hill." + +Redwald rushed from the room, crying, "To horse, to horse!" but found +only a portion of his men awake: the others were mainly drunk and +sleeping it off on the floor. + +Cursing their untimely indulgence, he got about a dozen men rapidly +mounted on the fleetest horses, taking care Elfric should be one, and +dashed off in pursuit of the fugitives. + +Dunstan and his party had ridden some four or five hours, when the moon +became overcast, and low peals of distant thunder were heard. The +atmosphere was so intensely hot, and the silence of nature so +oppressive, that it was evident some convulsion was at hand. + +"Is there any shelter near?" + +"Only a ruined city [xxiv] in the wood on the left hand, +but it is a dangerous place to approach after nightfall. They say evil +spirits lurk there." + +"They tell that story of every ruined place, be it city, temple, or +house; and even if it be, we have more cause to dread evil men than evil +spirits." + +The guide hesitated no longer, and struck into a bypath, which +penetrated the depth of the woody marsh through which the Foss Way then +had its course. After a minute or two it became evident, from the +footing, that they were upon the paved work of a causeway overgrown with +weeds and rank herbage; huge mounds showed where fortifications had once +existed, and shortly, broken pillars and ruined walls appeared at +irregular intervals. + +They had little time to look around them, for the storm had come rapidly +up, and the glare of the lightning was incessant, while the rain poured +down in absolute torrents. Before them rose a huge ruin covered with ivy +and with the roof partly protecting the interior. It was so large that +they were able to lead their horses within its protection and wait the +cessation of the rain. + +Between the flashes the sky was intensely dark, but they were almost +incessant, and revealed the city of the dead in which they had found +refuge. It was an ancient Welsh town, and in the latter years of the +deadly struggle with the English, had been taken after a protracted +resistance. Tradition had not even preserved its name, and only stated +that every living soul had perished in the massacre when the outer walls +were at length stormed and the town given to fire and sword. The +victors, as was frequently the case, had avoided the spot, preferring to +build elsewhere, and, like Silchester or Anderida, it had fallen into +desolation such as befell mighty Babylon. + +And now the ignorant rustic peopled its buildings with the imaginary +forms of doleful creatures, and shunned the fatal precincts where once +family love and social affections had flourished; where hearts, long +mouldered to dust, had beaten with tender affection, where all the +little circumstances which make up life--the trivial round, the common +task--had gone on beneath the summer's sun or winter's storm, till the +great convulsion which ended the existence of the whole community. + +Dunstan noticed that his whole party crowded closely together, and when +the lightning illuminated each face saw that fear had left its visible mark. + +The continuous roar of thunder, the hissing of the descending rain, the +wind which blew in angry gusts, prevented all conversation until nearly +an hour had elapsed, when the strife began to diminish. It was a sad and +mournful sight to gaze upon the remains of departed greatness when thus +illuminated by the electric flash, and easily might the fancy, deceived +by the transient glimpses of things, people the ruins with the shades of +their departed inhabitants. + +"Father," said Alfred, at length, "who were they who lived here? Do you +know aught about them?" + +"The men whom our ancestors subdued--the Welsh, or British--an +unhappy race." + +"Were they heathen?" + +"At one time, but they were converted by the missions from Rome and the +East, of which the earliest was that of St. Joseph of Arimathea to our +own Glastonbury; he may have preached to the very people who lived here, +nay, in this very basilica, which, I think, may have been converted into +a church." + +It was indeed the ruin of a basilica wherein they stood, but no trace +survived to show whether Dunstan's conjecture was correct. + +"It seems strange that God should have permitted them to fall before the +sword of our heathen ancestors." + +"Their own historian Gildas, who lies buried at Glastonbury, explains +it. He tells us that such was the corruption of faith and of morals +towards the close of their brief day, that had not the Saxon sword +interposed; plague, pestilence, or famine, or some similar calamity, +must have done the fatal work. God grant that we, now that in turn we +have received the message of the Gospel, may be more faithful servants, +or similar ruin may, at no distant period, await the Englishman also, as +it did the Welshman." + +He sighed deeply, and Alfred echoed the sigh in his heart; he read the +abbot's thoughts. + +"Do you believe," said he, after a pause, "that their spirits ever +revisit the earth?" + +"I know not; many wise men have thought it possible, and that they may +haunt the places where they sinned, ever bearing their condemnation +within them, even while they clothe themselves in semblance of the +mortal flesh they once wore." + +The whole party shuddered, and Father Guthlac said, deprecatingly: + +"My father, let us not talk of this now. We are too weak to bear it, and +the place is so awful!" + +By this time the wind had made a huge rent in the black clouds overhead, +and the moon came suddenly in sight, sailing tranquilly in the azure +void above, and casting her beams on the ruins, as she had once cast +them on the beauteous city; its basilicas, palaces, and temples yet +standing. + +At this moment their guide came hastily to them. + +"We are in some danger, father. Horsemen, twelve of them, are galloping +along the Foss Way in spite of the storm." + +Dunstan left the shelter, which was no longer needed, the rain having +ceased, and followed the guide to the summit of the huge mound which +marked the fall of some giant bastion of early days. From that position +they could see the Foss Way, now about half-a-mile distant in the bright +moonlight, and Dunstan's eye at once caught twelve figures--horsemen +--sweeping down it like the wind, which brought the sound of their +passage faintly to the ear. + +"Wait," he said, "and see whether they pass the bypath; in that case we +are safe." + +The whole party was now on the mound, their persons carefully concealed +from the view of the horsemen, while they watched their passage with +intense anxiety. The enemy reached the bypath; eleven of them passed +over it, but the twelfth reined his horse suddenly, almost upon its +haunches, and pointed to the ground. He had evidently seen the tracks of +the fugitives upon the soft turf. + +The next moment they all turned their horses into the bypath. + +"Follow," said the guide; and they all rushed eagerly down the mound and +mounted at once. + +"Follow me closely; I think I can save you from them; only lose not a +moment." + +The guide led them by a wandering path amongst the ruins, where their +tracks would leave the least trace, until he passed through a gap in the +external fortifications on the opposite side. Then he rode rapidly along +a descending path in the woods, until the sound of rushing water greeted +their ears, and they arrived on the brink of a small river which was +swollen by the violent rain, and which dashed along an irregular and +stony bed with fearful impetuosity. + +There was but one mode of crossing it: a bridge constructed of planks +was thrown over, which one horseman might pass at a time. The whole +party rode over in safety, although the crazy old bridge bent terribly +beneath the weight of each rider. + +But when all were over, the guide motioned to Alfred and Oswy to remain +behind for one moment, while the monks proceeded. He threw himself from +his horse, and taking the axe which he had slung behind him, commenced +hacking away at the bridge. But although the bridge was old, yet it was +tough; and although Alfred, and Oswy who was armed with a small +battle-axe, assisted with all their might, the work seemed long. + +Before it was completed, they heard the voices of their pursuers calling +to each other amongst the ruins. They had evidently lost the track, and +were separating to find it. + +Crash went one huge plank into the raging torrent, then a second, and +but one beam remained, when a horseman emerged from the trees opposite, +and by the light of the moon Alfred recognised his brother. + +Desperate in the excitement of the chase, Elfric leapt from his horse, +and drawing his sword rushed upon the bridge. + +Alfred, who felt it tremble, cried: + +"Back, Elfric! Back if you value your life!" while at the same moment, +true to his duty, without raising his axe or any other attempt at +offence, he opposed his own body in passive resistance to Elfric's +passage over the beam. + +Elfric knew the voice, and drew back in utter amazement. He had already +stepped from the half-severed beam, when he saw it bend, break, and +roll, with Alfred, who had advanced to the middle of the bridge, into +the torrent beneath, which swept both beam and man away with resistless +force. + + + CHAPTER XIII. THE RETURN OF ALFRED. + +The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn the fate of Alfred +of Aescendune, whom we left in so critical a position. + +The fall of the bridge was so sudden and unexpected, that he scarcely +knew where he was, till he found himself sucked rapidly down stream by +the raging waters, when he struck out like a man, and battled for dear +life. But the only result seemed to be that he was bruised and battered +against the rocks and stones, until, exhausted, he was on the point of +succumbing to his fate, as the current bore him into a calm deep pool, +where he sank helplessly, his strength gone. But the guide and his +companion Oswy had succeeded in reaching the spot, which was +inaccessible from the other side, and plunging at once into the waters, +the latter succeeded in bringing the dying youth to land. Dunstan and +the other members of the party were soon on the spot; the lay brother +was skilled in the art of restoring suspended animation, and they soon +had the happiness of beholding Alfred return to consciousness; he raised +his head, and gazed about him like one in a dream, not able to realise +his position. + +"Where am I? What have I been doing?" he exclaimed. + +"You are safe, my dear son, and in the hands of friends," replied +Dunstan, "although you have had a narrow, narrow escape; we are secure +for the present from our foes." + +They consulted together in low tones as to their future movements, and +the abbot inquired particularly of the guide concerning the fords and +bridges. + +"There is a ford only a mile or two away, but I expect they will find +they cannot cross it." + +"Is there no place of refuge near? He is unable to sit his horse." + +"There is a cottage close by, kept by a cowherd, who is a good and true +man." + +"Then lead us to it at once," replied Dunstan. + +Alfred had by this time recognised his position, and he implored Dunstan +not to endanger his own safety for his sake; but the abbot paid no +attention. They reached the cottage just as the day was dawning, and the +east was bright with rosy light. It was such a place as the great king, +after whom Alfred was named, had found refuge in when pressed by the +Danes. It was poor, but neat and clean beyond the usual degree; and when +the wants of their early visitors were known, and Dunstan was +recognised, the utmost zeal was displayed in his cause. + +All that could be done for Alfred was done at once, but he was +manifestly too shaken and bruised to be able to travel; and, giving him +his fatherly blessing, Dunstan was compelled by the guide to hurry on, +leaving him in the care of Oswy. + +They had not, however, great fear of their pursuers, for their own +horses were comparatively fresh after the rest in the ruined city, and +those of their foes would be necessarily fatigued, after the rapid ride +along the Foss Way, and their exertions to pass the stream. + +So it was not with great uneasiness, well mounted as they were, that, +gaining the road, they beheld their pursuers in the distance, who, on +their part, beholding their intended victims afar off, hastened to spur +their horses on. + +It was useless: the pursued had the advantage, and after the gallop of a +mile or two, it became evident they were in no especial danger, although +it must be remembered that a false step or slip, or any accident, would +have been fatal. + +"I should not mind racing them down the Foss to the Sea Town," [xxv] +said the guide; "but if the abbot has no objection, I should prefer +leaving them to pursue the road, while we take a cross-country route, +which I have often travelled; it is a very good one." + +"By all means," said Dunstan, "and then we may slacken this furious pace." + +They were quite out of sight of their pursuers when, coming upon a track +of dry stony ground, they suddenly left the road, and crossing a wild +heath, put a copse between them and the enemy, who did not this time +discover for miles the absence of the footprints, for the soil was very +dry and hard, the storm not having passed that way, and the foe were +intent upon hard riding. + +So they gained a long start, and eventually reached a hill, from which +they obtained their first view of the sea. It was eventide, and the +western sun, sinking towards the promontories beyond the distant Exe, +reddened the waters with his glowing light. Dunstan and his brethren +thanked God. + +"We have come to the setting sun," said they, "and at eventide have seen +light; let us thank Him Who hath preserved us." + +But the guide, who knew what relentless pursuers were yet behind, would +allow them no rest. In another hour they reached a small fishing village +on the coast, where a solitary bark was kept. The owner was just about +to put out for an evening's fishing, but at the earnest request of his +visitors, backed by much gold, he consented to take them over to the +opposite coast. + +"The weather promises to be very clear and fine," he said; "and we may +sail across without any danger." + +It was indeed a lovely night; they stepped on board, the anchor was +loosed, the sail set, and with the wind behind, they stood rapidly out +to sea. They were quite silent, each immersed in his own thoughts. At +last they heard the sound of horsemen galloping on the fast-receding +shore, and looking back, they saw twelve riders reach the beach, and +pause, looking wistfully out to sea. + +"Our soul is escaped, even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler; the +snare is broken, and we are delivered," said Dunstan. + +"Our help standeth in the name of the Lord, Who hath made heaven and +earth," replied Father Guthlac. + +Meanwhile, Alfred rapidly gained strength. Happily no bones were broken, +he was only sadly bruised. The next day he expressed his earnest wish to +return home, but his host would not permit him, saying he should have to +answer to Dunstan some day for his guest. + +The time passed monotonously enough that second day, yet not +unpleasantly: there were a thousand things to observe in the woods and +marshes around, full of animal life. + +Early in the morning, a sweet fresh morning, the cowherd drove his +cattle forth to graze, where he knew the pastures were sweetest, and +Alfred would willingly have gone, too, but they told him he must rest. +So he took his breakfast of hot milk and bread, with oat cakes baked on +the hearth, and waited patiently till the warmth of the day tempted him +out, under the care of Oswy, to watch the distant herd, to drink of the +clear spring or recline under some huge spreading beech, while the +breeze made sweet melodies in his ears, and lulled him pleasantly to sleep. + +At midday they returned to the customary dinner, which was not of such +inferior quality as one would now expect to find in such a place, +contrasting strongly with the fare on the tables of the rich: then there +was far more equality in the food of rich and poor, and Alfred had no +cause to complain of the cowherd's table. + +Then he sauntered forth again with Oswy, and strove to amuse himself +with the book of nature; till just at eventide, as he was longing +earnestly that he could know the fate of his fugitive friends, they +heard the sound of a horse at full trot, and soon the guide appeared in +sight. + +Alfred rose up eagerly. + +"Are they safe?" he cried. + +"Yes, quite safe; they had got a mile out to sea when their pursuers got +to the beach; I saw it all, hidden in a woody hill above." + +"Did they try to follow?" + +"They could not, there was no boat: I never saw men in such a rage." + +Alfred felt as if a weight were removed from his heart, then he looked +up in the face of the guide. + +"Will you guide us home?" he said. + +"Yes," was the reply; "the holy abbot particularly desired me to return +to his son Alfred, and to take care of him on his journey home; and if +you will have me as your guide, I will warrant you a safe journey to +Aescendune, for we are not worth following." + +"Then let us start tomorrow morning," said Alfred, longing to be once +more in his old father's presence, and to cheer his mother's heart. + +They returned together to the cowherd's cottage, and slept peacefully +that night. Early in the morning they retook the path to the Foss Way, +crossing the stream at a ford higher up. Their horses being well rested +and full of spirit for the journey, they passed Glastonbury, still empty +and desolate, in the middle of the day, and retraced by easy stages the +whole of Alfred's previous route from home. + +After a week's easy travelling, by the blessing of Providence, they +reached the neighbourhood of Aescendune: it had never looked so lovely, +so home-like to Alfred as then. He felt as if every spot were full of +joy, and as he was recognised by person after person, by his favourite +dogs as they bounded forth, and finally fell into his mother's arms at +the gate of the hall, he experienced feelings which in these days, when +we are all so familiar with the thought of travel, can seldom be realised. + +Then he had to recount his adventures that night, after supper, to an +admiring audience, who listened enraptured to his account of the +holiness of Dunstan and the cruelty of his foes. But it will easily be +imagined that he made no allusion to his rencontre with Elfric; and +Oswy, instructed by his young master, was equally silent. + +He had quite made up his mind to persevere in this course: it could do +no good to tell father or mother how grievously Elfric had fallen, and +how nearly he had been the involuntary instrument of his brother's death. + +"God can change his heart," said Alfred to himself, "and bring him home +like the prodigal son about whom Father Cuthbert talks so often." + +So he prayed earnestly every day for his brother, and many a +supplication on his behalf arose from the altar of St. Wilfred. Time +will show whether they were lost. + + + CHAPTER XIV. EDWY AND ELGIVA. + +Edwy, King of England, and Elgiva, his queen, gave a great feast at +their royal palace in London, a month after the events recorded in our +last chapter; and a numerous company had assembled to do honour to their +hospitality. Yet the company was very different from that which had +assembled round the same hospitable board in the days of King Edred. +First, the Churchmen were conspicuous by their absence; and secondly, +all the old grey-headed counsellors, who had been the pride and ornament +of the reigns of Edmund and Edred, were not seen; for, after the rumour +of their marriage had reached Odo, he had pronounced the sentence of the +lesser excommunication upon them, severing them from the sacraments; and +this was felt by the old counsellors of Edred to be a most serious +stigma, yet one which they could not call undeserved: hence they +deserted the court. + +In their place were the young and giddy, the headstrong sons of wiser +fathers, the spendthrifts, the young fops of the period, those who went +in for a fast life, to use a modern phrase--who spent the night, if +not the day, over the wine cup, and consumed their substance in riotous +living--such were they who gathered around Edwy the Fair and the yet +fairer Elgiva. + +And truly king and queen more beautiful in person had never sat upon a +throne; and it was difficult to look upon them and feel aught but +admiration, save when one knew all their history, and then pity and +sorrow might supply the place of admiration, at least with the sober minded. + +Fish, flesh, and fowl; nought was wanting. The earth the air, and the +water, all yielded their tribute; for was it not the anniversary of the +marriage--the uncanonical marriage, alas!--of the royal pair, if +marriage it had truly been? + +Eels of enormous size, fine as the Roman lamprey, pike roasted with +puddings in their bellies, tench and carp stewed; while the sea yielded +its skate, its sturgeon, and its porpoise, which the skill of the cook +had so curiously dressed with fragrant spices that it won him great +renown. The very smell, said a young gourmand, was a dinner in itself; +and the wild buck supplied its haunch, and the boar its head, while fowl +of all kinds were handed round on spits. + +The drinking was of like sumptuous character, and Rhenish wine contended +with the wines of sunny France for precedence, as they were passed round +in silver cups and gold-mounted horns; for glass was seldom, if ever, +used for such purposes then. + +The floor was strewed with the sweetest summer flowers, and exhaled an +odour balmy as the breath of eastern climes, where the breeze plays with +the orange blossoms. The tapestry was beautifully woven by foreign +artists, and represented the loves of the gods; while there was nothing +in keeping with the olden style throughout the whole apartment. + +But one seat was vacant near the king's throne, and every now and then +Edwy seemed to cast a wistful eye upon it, as if he would fain see its +ordinary occupant there. + +The gleemen rose and sang, the harpers harped, but something was +wanting; they brought tears to the eyes of the fair queen by their +plaintive songs of hapless lovers, which had superseded alike the war +songs of Athelstane and the monkish odes of Edred. + +"Where is Elfric? He promised to be back by our wedding day; why does he +delay, my Edwy?" asked Elgiva. + +"It is little less than treason to the queen of youth and beauty to be +thus absent, my Elgiva, but remember he has been unwell, and Redwald +told me that for prudential reasons they delayed his return to court." + +"And your brother Edgar--" + +"Is somewhere in Mercia: the churlish boy has declined our invitation to +honour our feast with his presence. We do not want his serious face at +the board. I am sure he would preach on the duty of fasting." + +"He has but seldom been our visitor." + +"No; he is afraid, perhaps, to trust his cold heart within the magic of +my Elgiva's sunshine, lest the ice should be melted." + +These had been asides, while all the company were listening to the +gleeman; but now Edwy threw himself heart and soul into the current +conversation, and all went merry as a marriage peal, until the +ceremoniarius--for Edwy loved formality in some things--threw open +the folding doors and announced the captain of the hus-carles, and +Elfric of Aescendune. + +The whole company rose to receive them, and Elfric in particular +received a warm welcome; but it was at once seen that there was a marked +constraint upon him: his eye was restless and uneasy, and he seemed like +one carrying a load at his breast. + +In truth, since that fatal night when, as he believed, he had witnessed +the death of his brother, he had striven in vain to drown care and to +banish remorse: the thought of his aged father deprived of both his sons +--the one by death, the other by desertion--would force its way +unbidden to his mind. Still, he had determined to throw aside reserve in +honour of the occasion, and he made heroic efforts to appear happy and gay. + +Redwald was at his ease, as usual in all company, and seemed to cause +prodigious laughter as he told his adventures to the younger folk at the +bottom of the board. Dark and malign as his demeanour usually was, yet +he could affect a light and airy character at times. + +"Redwald, my trusty champion," said Edwy, "this is the first campaign +thou hast ever returned from unsuccessful. Tell us, how did Dunstan +outwit you?" + +"By the aid of the devil, my liege." + +"Doubtless; but we had all hoped for a different result, and that thou +wouldst either have left the traitor no eyes in his head, or no head on +his shoulders. + +"Said I not rightly, my Elgiva?" + +The eyes of the fair enemy of the abbot flashed fire, and she exchanged +some very significant words with her mother, Ethelgiva, who occupied the +next chair. + +"Come, my fairy-given [xxvi] one, you must not be too hard +on Redwald, who doubtless did his best-- + +"How was it, Elfric?" + +"The devil was certainly on Dunstan's side: he and no other could have +betrayed our coming, for betrayed it was." + +"How long had he left when you reached the abbey?" + +"Only an hour or two; but there was a sound of mocking laughter, +doubtless caused by his incantations, which kept us for some hours +forcing doors and the like." + +"And you could discover no cause?" + +"None whatever; however, we found he had taken the Foss Way for the +coast, and followed, and nearly caught him." + +"What prevented you?" + +Elfric turned pale as if with great mental emotion, and tried to proceed +in vain. + +"You are not well," said Elgiva, anxiously. + +"Not quite," he said; and then, overcoming his feelings by a vigorous +effort, while no one save Redwald suspected the true cause, he continued: + +"There had been a great storm, and they had broken down the only bridge +which existed for miles over a swollen river: we lost hours." + +"And yet, as your messengers told us, you arrived in time to see him +leave the coast." + +"The vessel which bore him was still distinctly in sight when we stood +on the sands." + +"But had you no means of following?" + +"None: it was a lonely fishing village with a small harbour, and his +bark was a mere fishing smack, the only one of the place." + +"I trust the sea has swallowed him," said the king; "but there is a +rumour today that he is playing the saint in Flanders with great pomp. +Well, only let him show his face in England again, and the devil may +pinch my nose with his tongs if I leave him a head on his shoulders: he +shall be a sacrifice to your outraged dignity, my Elgiva." + +"And yours, my Edwy." + +Husband and wife were quite agreed on this subject: they had never +forgiven Dunstan in the least degree, and, identifying him with +religion, had well-nigh abjured it altogether. + +The ordinary dishes being now removed, the guests all partook lavishly +of wine, and, their heads already heated, yielded entirely to the +excitement of the moment. Toast after toast was drunk to the king: he +was compared to Apollo for his beauty, and Elgiva to Venus, while the +old northern mythology was ransacked also for appellations in honour of +the youthful pair. + +Adjoining, in the outer hall, the higher domestics had their music and +dancing, and the king and queen came to honour the entertainment by +their presence. So the happy hours wore away, and at length the company +were on the eve of departure, for fatigue was making itself felt, when +an ominous blowing of a horn was heard at the outer gate. + +A pause, during which the company looked at each other, so strangely had +the sound struck them, and yet they knew not why, save that it was an +unlikely hour for such an occurrence. + +There was one only who knew what the message would probably be-- +Redwald; and he had kept the secret purposely from the king. + +The doors opened, and an usher brought in a messenger who had only been +allowed a moment to change a dusty dress, ere he broke into the presence +of royalty. + +"Speak," said Edwy, as the messenger bowed before him, and kissed his hand. + +"My lord and king--" and the messenger glanced at Elgiva. + +"Let him speak, Edwy, my lord. Are we not one? What you can bear, your +wife must bear also." + +Thus adjured, the messenger spoke his news. + +"Mercia has revolted, and proclaimed Edgar king." + +"The cause alleged?" + +"I know not, my lord." + +"I can tell you," said Redwald; "the banishment of the holy fox, +Dunstan, and very shame prevents my adding that--" + +"No more," said Edwy; "I can guess the rest." + +He wished to spare Elgiva. + +He walked up and down the hall several times. His festive air had gone. + +"And on my wedding day, too," he said. "Redwald, you knew this." + +"Yes, my lord, but I wished to spare my king upon his wedding day, still +I have not spared myself. The necessary steps are taken, your immediate +vassals are summoned, and my own men are ready to march; we will sweep +these rebels off the field." + +"Elfric," said the king, "you must be my right hand in the field: you +will be ready to invade your native Mercia tomorrow. Think you your own +friends are firm?" + +"My father, although he has disowned me, would never disown his lawful +king; the duty and love he bore to your murdered father would forbid." + +"Well, Redwald, have you known this many hours?" + +"I heard it at the frontier town of Mercia, Reading, last night, and +took all my measures immediately." + +"Then, can we really depend upon Wessex?" + +"I treat so indeed, my lord, else we should be in a very bad way indeed." + +"Well, we must rest now. Elgiva, darling, this is a cold termination to +our first anniversary, but your husband's love shall ever protect you +until he be cold in death. + +"Goodnight, Elfric, be ready for the morrow. + +"Goodnight, Redwald, trustiest warrior who ever served grateful lord. + +"Goodnight, gentlemen all." + +And thus the royal party broke up, and thus ended the first anniversary +of the ill-starred union. + +On the morrow all was haste and confusion in the royal palace. Elgiva +departed early for Winchester, which, being farther removed from the +frontier, was safer than London from any sudden excursion on the part of +the Mercians, and the city was also devoted to the royal family. The +citizens of London were directed to provide for the defence of their +city, while the royal guards, attended by the immediate vassals of the +crown, prepared to march into the heart of the rebellious district. + +It is too often supposed that the feudal system was of Norman +importation, whereas its very foundation--the act of homage, or of +"becoming your man,"--was brought by the Saxons and Angles from their +German home. The lord was the protector of the vassal, but the vassal +was bound to attend his feudal superior both in peace and war. + +So imperative was this obligation, that a vassal who abandoned his lord +in the field of battle was liable to the death of a traitor. + +Therefore Edwy soon found himself at the head of a compact body of ten +thousand men, all bound to stand by him to death. But there was one very +disheartening circumstance, which attracted notice. No volunteers joined +the little army, although a royal proclamation had promised lands from +the territories of the rebels to each successful combatant in the cause +of Edwy and Elgiva. + +The fear of the Church hung on all, the conviction that the law of both +Church and State had been broken by the young king; the universal belief +in the sanctity of Dunstan, and in the true patriotism of Odo whom they +called "the good;" the thoughtless misgovernment since the wiser +counsellors had dispersed--all these things weakened the hearts of the +followers of Edwy. + +There was therefore but little enthusiasm when the inhabitants saw the +soldiers of the king march out by the Watling Street, and the soldiers +themselves looked dispirited. + +It was early dawn on the second day from the feast that the departure +took place. Cynewulf, a valiant Earl of Wessex, was the real commander; +nominally, Edwy commanded in person, and Elfric rode out of London by +his side. Redwald's rank would not have entitled him to the chief command. + +Passing through the environs of the city, they gained the open country, +and marched steadily along the causeway the Romans had so firmly laid, +until they reached Verulam or St. Alban's, where they passed the night. +It excited great discontent amongst the inhabitants that Edwy did not +visit the shrine of the saint, the glory of their town; and his +departure again took place amidst gloomy silence. + +They were now about to cross the frontier and enter Mercia, then in many +respects an independent state; governed, it might be, by the same +monarch and Witan as Wessex, even as Scotland and England are governed +by the same sovereign and Parliament, yet retaining like them its own +peculiar code of laws in many respects. + +And now Mercia had sternly refused to be governed any longer by the +"enemy of the Church," and chose the Etheling, Edgar, to be its king. + +Acting with the sanction of Odo, whom he deeply revered, the young +Edgar, then only in his fifteenth year, accepted the offer, and the +whole force of Mercia was gathering to support him when Edwy crossed the +border. + +It must not be supposed that either Cynewulf or Redwald expected to +conquer the Mercians with ten thousand men. No, their design was +simpler: they had learned where Edgar was residing, and that the forces +around him were small. One bold stroke might secure his person, and then +Edwy might make his own terms. This was the secret of the advice they +both gave to the young king. + +Redwald had, as we shall see, deep designs of his own to serve also, but +they had been locked for years in his own breast, and no servant could +seem more trusty and faithful than he did, or act with more energy in +his master's cause. + +The forces of Edwy, as we have related, left St. Alban's on the second +morning, and travelled, horse and foot, very rapidly all that day. + +Crossing the Icknield Street at Dunstable, where the remains of a huge +temple, once sacred to Diana, were visible, they entered Mercia, and +soon reached Towcester, a town which had been walled round by King +Athelstane; here they found no force prepared to receive them, and the +town opened its gates at once. + +They tarried here for a day, while they sent scouts and spies in all +directions, many of whom never returned. The troops were quartered +freely upon the inhabitants, who were evidently very hostile; and, in +return, the soldiers of Edwy insulted the women and bullied the men. +Every hour some quarrel arose, and generally ended in bloodshed; the +citizens being commonly the victims. + +Late at night messengers arrived at the royal quarters, bringing +information that Edgar was at Alcester, the ancient Alauna, beyond the +Avon, and that Osric, the great Earl of Mercia, was with him collecting +troops. + +A council was held at once, and it was decided to leave the Watling +Street and to march for the Avon by cross-country routes. They rested +that night amidst the ruins of the ancient Brinavae, and here another +council was held, to deliberate on their future movements, and it was +decided to march westward at once, for tidings came that Edgar's forces +were rapidly increasing, and prudence suggested prompt measures. Edwy +was becoming very anxious. + +The route for the next day was then made out and, with beating heart, +Elfric learned that they purposed crossing the river not far from +Aescendune. + +"Elfric, my friend," said Edwy, "there will be a chance for you to visit +Aescendune, and to obtain the old man's forgiveness." + +He said this with a slight sneer. + +"I cannot go there; I would die first." + +Edwy started at the tone of deep feeling with which the words were said; +he knew nothing of the rencontre of Elfric with his brother. + +"Still I think that I must spend this coming night there, and I will try +and act the Christian for the occasion: perhaps I may do you a good +turn, while I renew my acquaintance with your people." + +In his very heart Elfric wished that Edwy might never arrive there, yet +he knew not what to say. + +"Well," said the prince, observing his hesitation, "you may go on with +Cynewulf and the main body of the army, which will cross the Avon higher +up, and I will make excuse that your duties detain you. I must go--I +have special reasons, I wish at least to secure the fidelity of the few +--and Redwald will accompany me; we join the army on the morrow, +without losing any time by the move." + +And so the matter was settled. + + + CHAPTER XV. THE ROYAL GUEST. + +It was the morning of the first of August, and the sun, dispersing the +early mists, gave promise of a bright summer day. + +The inhabitants of Aescendune, lord and vassals alike, were astir from +the early daybreak; for that day the harvest was to be commenced, and +the crops were heavier than had been known for many a year. A good +harvest meant peace and prosperity in those times, a bad harvest famine, +and perhaps rebellion; for if the home crop failed, commerce did not, as +now, supply the deficiency. + +So it was with joy and gladness that the people went forth that day to +reap with their sharp sickles in their hands, while the freshness of the +early morn filled each heart insensibly with energy and life. The corn +fell on the upland before their sharp strokes, while behind each reaper +the younger labourers gathered it into sheaves. + +Old Ella stood in their midst looking on the familiar scene, while his +pious heart returned many a fervent thanksgiving to the Giver of all +good. Under the shade of some spreading beeches, which bordered the +field, the domestics from the manor house were spreading the banquet for +the reapers--mead and ale, corn puddings prepared in various modes +with milk, huge joints of cold roast beef--for the hour when toil +should have sharpened the appetite of the whole party. + +By the side of his father stood young Alfred administering with filial +affection to all his wants, as if he felt constrained to supply a double +service in his own person now that Elfric was no more, or, at least, +dead to home ties. + +Thicker and thicker fell the wheat, and they thought surely such heavy +sheaves had never fallen to their lot before. + +At last the blowing of a horn summoned all the reapers to their dinner, +and when Father Cuthbert had said grace, the whole party fell to--the +thane at the head of them; and when the desire of eating and drinking +was appeased, the labourers lay on the grass, in the cool shade, to pass +away the hour of noontide heat, before resuming their toil. + +"Father," said Alfred, "a horseman is coming." + +"My old eyes are somewhat dim; I do not see any one approaching." + +"Nor I, as yet, but I hear him; listen, he is just crossing the brook; I +can hear the splashing." + +"Some royal messenger, perhaps, from Edgar or from Edwy, my son. I fear +such may be the case; yet I wish I could be left in peace, afar from the +strife which must convulse the land, if the ill-advised brothers cannot +agree to reign--the one over Mercia, the other over Wessex." + +"We have repeatedly said that we should be quite neutral, father." + +"And yet, my son, we offend both parties, and, I fear me, we shall be +forced to defend ourselves in the end. But God is our refuge and +strength, a very present help in trouble. And now that I am old I can +lean more and more upon Him. He will be a father to you, my Alfred, when +these hoary hairs are hidden in the grave." + +It was seldom that the old thane expressed his devotion in this strain; +it seemed to Alfred as if there were a foreboding of coming trial in it, +and he felt as when a cloud veils the face of the sun in early spring. + +The messenger now came in sight--a tall, resolute looking man, well +armed and well mounted, and evidently bound for the hall. But when he +saw the party beneath the trees he bent his course aside, and saluting +the thane with all deference, inquired if he spoke to Ella of Aescendune. + +"I am he," replied Ella. "I trust you are not the bearer of other than +good tidings; but will you first refresh yourself, since it is ill +talking between the full and the fasting?" + +"With gladness do I accept your bounty; for I have ridden since early +dawn, and rider and horse are both exhausted." + +"There is corn for your horse, and food and wine for his master. + +"Uhred, take charge of the steed. + +"Alfred, my son, place that best joint of beef before the stranger, and +those wheaten cakes. + +"I drink to you, fair sir." + +The messenger seemed in no hurry to open his tale until he had eaten and +drunk, and it was with the greatest patience that the thane, who was one +of nature's gentlemen, awaited his leisure. + +At length the messenger looked up, and pushed his wooden platter aside. + +"I have come to be the bearer of good tidings to you, noble thane. Edwy, +your king, with a small troop of horse, his royal retinue, proposes +honouring your roof with his presence, and asks bed and board of his +loyal subject, Ella of Aescendune." + +"The king's will is my law; and since it pleases the son of my late +beloved master, King Edmund, to visit me, he shall find no lack of +hospitality. But may I ask what sudden event has brought him into the +heart of our country?" + +"He comes to chastise rebellion. A large force of several thousand men +crosses the river a few miles higher this evening, and, not to incommode +you with numbers, King Edwy comes apart from his followers." + +Although he foresaw grave inconvenience, and even danger, in the +proposal, yet Ella could not appear churlish and inhospitable; +therefore, learning from the messenger that the king might be expected +before sunset, he returned home to make such preparations as should +suggest themselves for the entertainment of his royal master, for so he +still would have styled Edwy, deeply as he felt he had been wronged by him. + +"Father," said Alfred, as he walked homeward by his side, "think you +Elfric will be in his train? I wish he may be." + +"Alas, my son! I fear I shall never see poor Elfric again. My mind +always seems to misgive me when I think of him; and I have so strong a +foreboding that he has received my last blessing, that I cannot overcome +it. No, Alfred, I fear we shall not see Elfric tonight." + +No more was said upon the subject; they reached the hall in good time, +and startled the lady Edith by their tidings. + +Instantly all was in preparation: the best casks of wine were broached, +fowls and wild birds alike had cause to lament that their lives were +shortened, chamberlain and cook were busy, clean rushes were brought in +to adorn the floor of the hall, sweet flowers and aromatic grass for +that of the royal bedchamber; and it was not till a flourish of trumpets +announced the approach of the cavalcade that all was ready, and the +maidens and men servants, arrayed in their best holiday attire, stood +grouped without the gate to receive their king. + +At last the glitter of the departing ray upon pointed lances announced +the approach, and soon the whole party might be seen--a hundred horse +accompanying the king's person, and one or two nobles of distinction, +including Redwald, riding by his side. + +When the train first reached the spot from which the castle was visible, +a strange thing occurred. The king's eyes were fixed upon Redwald, and, +to the royal astonishment, the whole frame of that worthy seemed shaken +by a sudden emotion. His countenance became pale, his lips were +compressed, and his eyes seemed to dart fire. + +"What is the matter, my Redwald?" asked the king. + +"Oh, nothing, my lord!" said he, resuming his wonted aspect with +difficulty, but at last becoming calm as a lake when the wind has died +away. "Only a sudden spasm." + +"I hope you are not ill?" + +"No, my lord; you need not really feel anxious concerning me. + +"The hall of Aescendune appears a pleasant place for a summer +residence," he added. + +"I have been there before," said the king. "Spent some weeks there. Yes; +I thought it a great change for the better then, after the musty odour +of sanctity which reigned in the palace of my uncle the monk, but all +things go by comparison. I might not relish a month there now." + +"Yet it looks like a place formidable for its kind, and it might not be +amiss to persuade the worthy old thane to receive a garrison there, so +that if the worst came to the worst we might have a place of refuge, +otherwise the Mercians would soon have possession of it." + +"Ella is one of themselves." + +"But the rebel Edgar may not forgive him for entertaining us!" + +"He can hardly help himself. Still, the smoke of those fires, which, I +trust, betokens good cheer; and the peaceful aspect of that party coming +out to meet us, in the midst of whom I recognise old Ella and his son +Alfred, Elwy's brother, does not look much like compulsion." + +"Making the best of a bad bargain, perhaps." + +"I prefer to think otherwise." + +At this moment the two parties met, and Edwy at once dismounted from his +courser with that bewitching and kingly grace which became "Edwy the +Fair." He advanced gracefully to the old thane, and, presenting the +customary mark of homage, embraced him as a son might embrace a father +--"For," said he, "Elfric has taught me to revere you as a father even +if Aescendune had not taught me before then. I robbed you of your son, +now I offer you two sons, Elfric and myself." + +The tears stood in the old man's eyes at this reception, and the mention +of his dear prodigal son. + +"He is well, I hope?" said he, striving to speak with such sternness and +dignity as sell-respect taught in opposition to natural feeling. + +"Well and happy; and I trust you will see him in a day or two, when we +shall have chastised our rebels; justice, mingled with mercy, must first +have its day." + +"Where is he now?" + +"With the main body of the army; in fact, he is my right hand. It is my +fault, not his, that he is not here now; but we could not both leave, +and he preferred that I should come and proffer my filial duty first, +and perhaps that I should assure you of his love and duty, however +appearances may have seemed against him." + +Then the eye of Edwy caught Alfred. It must be remembered that Elfric +had kept the secret of his brother's supposed death, even from the king. + +"And of Alfred, too, I have ever been reminded by his brother; your name +has seldom been long absent from our conversation." + +Alfred reddened. + +"I trust now," he continued, "that I may profitably renew an +acquaintance suspended for three years. I am but young, only in my +eighteenth year, and I have no father; let me find one in the wisest of +the Mercians." + +So bewitching was the grace of the fair speaker that he seemed to carry +all before him. Ella began to think he must have misjudged the king. +Alfred alone, who knew much more of the relations between the king and +the Church than his father, still suspended his belief in these most +gracious words. + +Leaning upon the still powerful arm of Ella, his young agile form +contrasting strongly with the powerful build of the old thane-- +powerful even in decay--they came in front of the hall, where the +serfs and vassals all received them with joyful acclamations, and amidst +the general homage the king entered the hall. + +There he reverentially saluted the lady Edith. + +"The mother of my friend, my brother, Elfric, is my mother also," said he. + +Then he was conducted to his chamber, where the bath was provided for +him, and unguents for anointing himself, after which, accepting the loan +of a change of clothing more suitable than his travelling apparel, he +received the visit of Ella, who came to conduct him to the banquet. + +All this while his followers had been received according to their +several degrees; and a board was spread, of necessity, in a barn, for +the due feasting of the soldiers of Edwy and the vassals of Aescendune; +while the officers and the chief tenants of the family met at the royal +table in the great hall once before introduced to our readers. + +It boots not to repeat an oft-told tale, to describe the banquet in all +its prodigal luxury, to tell how light the casks in the cellars of +Aescendune seemed afterwards, how empty the larder; suffice it to say +that in due course the banquet was ended, the toasts were drunk, and, +with an occasional interlude in the gleeman's song and the harper's wild +music, the conversation was at its height. Wine and wassail unloosed +men's tongues. + +Redwald sat near the king, who had introduced him to Ella as a dear +friend both to him and his son--"a very Mentor," he said, "who, since +the unhappy quarrel into which my counsellors forced me--yes, forced +me--with Dunstan, has done more to keep Elfric and me straight in our +morals than at one time I should have thought possible for any man to do. + +"Redwald, you need not blush; it is true, and your king is proud to own it." + +Redwald was not exactly blushing; he had spent the interval before the +banquet in looking eagerly and wistfully all round the house, and now +his countenance had a cold composure, which made it seem as if he had +never known emotion; still he answered fittingly to the king's humour: + +"Alack, my lord, such credit is due only to the blessed saints, +especially St. Wilfred, whom you first learned to love at Aescendune, as +you have often told me." + +"Yes," said Edwy; "you remember, Ella, how I used to steal away even +from the chase, and visit his chapel at the priory which your worthy +father founded. Truly, I mused upon the saint so much that I marvel he +appeared not to me; I think he did once." + +"Indeed!" exclaimed his auditors. + +"Yes; I had been musing upon my condition as a poor orphan boy, deprived +of my brave father--he was your friend, Ella!--when methought a +figure in the dress of a very ancient bishop, stood beside me, yet +immaterial as the breeze of evening. 'Thy prayer is heard' said he to +me; 'thou hast brought many gifts to St. Wilfred; he shall send thee +one, even a friend.' It was fulfilled in Elfric." + +"Truly, it was marvellous," said Father Cuthbert, who listened with open +mouth. "I doubt not it was our sainted patron." + +Alfred said nothing; his recollections of Edwy's days at Aescendune did +not embrace many hours in the chapel of St. Wilfred. + +The great wonderment of Ella may be conceived: he had always mourned +over Edwy as a headstrong youth, dead to religion, and now he was called +upon to contemplate him in so different a light. The reader may wonder +at his credulity, but if he had listened to the sweet voice of the +beautiful king, had gazed into that innocent-looking face--those eyes +which always seemed to meet the gaze, and never lowered themselves or +betrayed their owner--he would, perhaps, have been deceived too; yet +Edwy was overdoing it, and a look from Redwald warned him of the fact. +He took the other line. + +"Alas!" he said, "I have been very very unworthy of St. Wilfred's fond +interest in me, and may have done very rash things; but some day the +saint may rejoice in me again, and then he shall not find in me a +rebellious son." + +Further than this he was not disposed to go, for in truth he felt +himself sickened by his very success in deceit, although half disposed +to be proud of it at the same time. But Redwald had taken up the +conversation. + +"These halls of yours seem old, venerable thane; has your family long +dwelt under this hospitable roof?" + +"My remote ancestor fought by the side of Cynric in the victories which +led to the foundation of Mercia." + +"Ah! many a sad yet glorious tale and legend for the gleeman's harp, +doubtless, adorns your annals." + +"Not many; we have our traditions." + +"For instance, is there one connected with the foundation of the priory +hard by?" + +"It is of recent date, my father built it." + +"Strange, for generally these old places are reared up by repentant +sinners, mourning over the sins they have committed, or the day of grace +they have cast away; is there no tale attached to your foundation?" + +"Alas! there is; but it is one whose stain is all too recent, one we +cannot recount, or suffer gleeman's harp to set to music, lest we harrow +the yet bleeding wound." + +Redwald could not ask more; the answer was too plain and distinct, and +so he was forced to repress his curiosity. + +The conversation then became desultory and, finally, when the gleemen +began the well known _piece de resistance_, the battle of Brunanburgh, +Edwy yawned and Redwald looked sleepy, while the old thane actually +slept in his huge armchair, and was awakened only by the cessation of +the music and singing. + +Even in the presence of royalty itself Ella did not suffer the company +to disperse before the chaplain had said the customary compline service, +after which the guard was doubled at the door, and soon the whole +household was buried in sweet and peaceful sleep. + +Yet, although they knew it not, they nourished the deadliest foe of +their race in the bosom of the family. There was one at least who could +not sleep that night who now paced his narrow chamber, now looked forth +at the meadows, woods, and hills, sleeping in the summer twilight; now, +unchecked, burst into the wildest excitement, and paced his chamber as a +wild beast might pace the floor of his cage; now calmed down into a +sarcastic smile. + +"Yes!" he said in soliloquy, "and here I am at last; here in the halls +which should have been his and mine, and shall be mine yet; here! and +they know it not; here! and the reward of years of patient endurance is +at hand; here! yes, here, in the halls of Aescendune--dreamed of, +sighed after, prayed for at the shrine of such gods as promise +vengeance; here, by Woden and Thor; here by Satan's help, if there be a +Satan!--here! here! here!" + + + CHAPTER XVI. NAKED THOUGH LOCKED IN STEEL. + +Early in the morning the whole household was astir, and the breakfast +alone preceded the preparations for the departure of Edwy and his +retinue. Redwald did not appear, and they became uneasy at his prolonged +absence, until, sending to his room, they found him suffering from +sudden, but severe illness; which, as the leech shortly decided, would +absolutely prevent his travelling that day. + +It was evident that Edwy was annoyed by this, but it was not until after +a long conference with Redwald that he took Ella aside, and pointing out +to him the exposed position of the hall, besought his permission to +leave a garrison of fifty men under the command of this trusty officer, +which would ensure their safety, in case of any sudden attack on the +part of Edgar's troops. + +"I can hardly feel that I need such protection, my royal master," +replied Ella; "I dwell among my own people, and am perhaps safer when +quite unprotected." + +"In that case, may I press my own poor claims?" replied the king. "In +case of the worst, I should have Aescendune to fall back upon, a retreat +secured by chosen men behind me, where one might halt and turn to bay; +again, Redwald's sudden illness necessitates my leaving him to your +hospitality." + +Thus pressed on every side, Ella felt he could but yield to a request +which the speaker had not only the power but the right, as his feudal +superior, to enforce; for Ella was not prepared to throw off his +allegiance, as most of his neighbours had done, and to make common cause +with Edgar. Again, the conversation of the previous night had given him +more confidence in Edwy, and more hope of seeing Elfric again, like the +returning prodigal, than he had previously had. + +Edwy saw this, and continued: + +"And it is but a few days hence, ere I propose to return with Elfric-- +whom I could indeed put in command of such forces as are necessary to +secure you against our mutual foes, when I return southward. Redwald and +his troops will hold the place in trust for Elfric, till he arrives." + +The last lingering feeling of reluctance was now forcibly banished, and +Ella consented to receive Redwald as his guest, with a picked troop of +fifty men. + +"They shall be the best behaved warriors you have ever seen, my own +hus-carles--men who go to mass every morning, and shrift every week," +added the deceitful prince; "at least," he added, as he saw the look of +incredulity Ella could not suppress, "some of them do, I can't say how +many." + +In the course of an hour from this conversation, the royal party took +its departure, reduced to half its numbers. + +Edwy left amidst the regret of all, so amiable had been his manners, so +winning his ways. + +"I take a son's liberty," said he, as he saluted the venerable cheek of +the lady Edith; "but I will bring your other son back with me in a few +days." + +The road leading over the hill and through the forest had swallowed up +the retreating force, when Ella personally superintended the +distribution of quarters to the guard of Redwald, many of whom +afterwards volunteered to follow him to the harvest field, and displayed +uncommon alacrity in carrying the wheat safely to its granaries, saying +the rebels should never have the reaping thereof. + +There was, however, a kind of gloom over the whole party through that +day. The thought that deadly strife impended close at hand weighed upon +the spirits of Ella, but they brightened again at the renewed hope of +meeting his prodigal, and he now hoped repentant, son in peace. + +Meanwhile, very different scenes were on the point of being enacted only +twice ten miles from the spot. + +The main body of the army left its quarters on the right bank of the +Avon, at the same hour in which Edwy left Aescendune to join them on +their march and they proceeded in safety all through the morning. At +midday they lay down to feed and to rest, and while thus resigning +themselves to repose, with the guards posted carefully around, the sound +of cavalry was heard in the distance, and shortly the royal party +appeared. Elfric was alert to receive them, but could not conceal his +surprise when he saw their diminished numbers, and perceived the absence +of Redwald. + +Edwy saw his look of embarrassment, and hastened to reply to the +question it conveyed. + +"They are left at Aescendune, fifty under the command of Redwald, to +fortify the house until we return. You must go home this time, and you +need not fear, for I have been a very saint at Aescendune, and they are +expecting Dunstan will speedily return and canonise me. Elfric, I have +used my sanctity for your advantage, since I have represented you as +sharing it at least in some degree." + +"I fear me, my father is too wise to be so easily deceived." + +"Nothing of the kind; he really seemed to believe in it; at all events, +I have promised you shall return with me." + +"Did they really seem to wish to see me?" + +"They did really, especially your brother Alfred." + +Elfric started as if an arrow had struck him. + +"Alfred. Alfred!" he said. + +"Yes, why not Alfred?" + +"And you saw him alive and well?" + +"To be sure, why not? Did you think he was dead." + +Elfric became confused, and muttered some incoherent answer, but he +rejoiced in his very heart; he felt as if a mountain were removed from +him, and a sweet longing for home, such as he had not felt since a +certain Good Friday, sprang up in his mind, so strongly that he would +have gone then and there, had circumstances permitted. + +Alas, poor boy! his wish was not thus easily to be gratified: he had +sinned very deeply--his penance had yet to be accomplished; well has +the poet written: + +"_Facilis descensus Averno . . . . Sed retrograre gradum, +superasque evadere ad auras, Hoc opus--hic labor est._" [xxvii] + +The midday halt concluded, the troops resumed their march for Alcester, +where they hoped to arrive about nightfall, and to surprise Edgar and +his few followers. All that afternoon they proceeded through a dense +woodland country; and the evening was setting in upon them, when +suddenly the scouts in front came galloping back, and gave the startling +information that entrenchments were thrown up across their path, and +that a large force was evidently entrenched behind. + +At first Edwy could scarcely believe the report; but Cynewulf, the +experienced commander upon whom, as we have said, the real command of +the force devolved, rode forward, and soon returned, having previously +ordered a general halt, and that entrenchments should be thrown up for +their own protection during the night. + +"Ealdorman," said Edwy, impatiently, "why throw up entrenchments? can we +not carry theirs by storm? we are all ready, are we not, for a valiant +charge?" + +"Nay, my lord, we are but ill prepared," was the reply, "for such +desperate measures. I am not certain they do not outnumber us; even so, +we probably excel them in discipline and skill, and have every chance of +victory tomorrow, which we should lose by fighting in the dark." + +So Edwy, who did not lack personal courage, and would gladly have ended +the short raid then and there, was forced to be governed by wiser heads, +and accordingly the bivouacs were made, the fires lighted, and the royal +tent pitched upon the slope of a gentle valley, which descended to a +brook in the bottom, where the ground rose similarly on the other side, +and was crowned by the hostile entrenchment, behind which rose the smoke +of the enemy's fires. The heads of numerous soldiers, seen over the +mound, showed how well they were prepared. + +The entrenchment was dug, the mound thrown up, the sentinels posted, and +all in so short a space of time that to the uninitiated in the art of +war, it would have seemed little short of miraculous; but the discipline +of the Danes, who owed their success generally to the skill with which +they fortified their camps, had been partially inherited by their +adversaries, and the hus-carles were not even all English: there were +many Danes amongst them. + +The suppers were soon cooked and eaten, the wine circulated freely, and +patriotic songs began to be heard: but there was one who seemed to have +no heart for them--Elfric. At the huge fire, which blazed near the +royal tent, Edwy sat as master of the feast, and he was in a state of +boisterous merriment. But all Elfric's efforts could not hide the +depression of his spirits, and Edwy, who loved him sincerely--for the +reader has seen that he was quite capable of love--tried to rouse him +from it, anxious that no one should suspect the courage of his favourite. + +Once or twice Elfric seemed to make great efforts to overcome this +feeling of depression, and partially succeeded in veiling it from all +but the observant young king. + +At last the feast was over. + +"My friends," said the king, "we must be stirring early in the morning, +so we will now disperse for the night." + +They drank a parting cup, then separated, while the king took Elfric's +arm and led him aside. + +"Elfric," said he, "did I not know my friend and most faithful follower, +I should suspect that he feared the morrow's conflict." + +"I cannot help it," said Elfric; "perhaps I do fear it, yet, had I but +my father's forgiveness, could I but see him once more, I could laugh at +the danger. It is not pain or death I fear, but I long to be where you +have been, I would I had gone with you now." + +"So do I." + +"And now I have my forebodings that I shall never hear my father's +forgiveness; and, Edwy, if I die without it, I believe my spirit cannot +rest; I shall haunt the spot till the day of doom." + +"This is all moonshine, Elfric. You have not been such a bad fellow +after all; if you go wrong, what will happen to the greater part of +those amongst us who may die tomorrow? When you once get into the fight, +and your blood gets warm, you will be all right; it is only the first +battle that gives one all these fancies." + +"No; it is not that. I am of a race of warriors, and I do not suppose +one of that race ever felt like this in his first battle. I have often +looked forward to mine with joy, but now my mind is full of gloomy +forebodings: I feel as if some terrible danger, not that of the fight, +were hanging over me and mine, and as if I should never meet those I did +love once, either in this world or the next." + +"The next! all we know about that comes from the priestly pratings. I +think, of the two heavens, Valhalla,[xxviii] with its hunting or fighting +by day, its feasting by night, would suit me best. I don't know why we +should think ourselves wiser than our ancestors; they were most likely +right about the matter, if there be another world at all." + +"I cannot disbelieve, if you can," replied poor Elfric, "I have tried +to, but I can't. Well, I daresay I shall know all about it by this time +tomorrow." + +"Pshaw! let tomorrow take care of itself; 'tis our first fight, Elfric, +and we will have no cowardly forebodings; we shall live to laugh at them +all. What shall we do with Edgar, if we get him tomorrow? I suppose one +must not shed a brother's blood, even if he be a rebel?" + +"Certainly not; no, no." + +"Perhaps it will be shed for me, and a lucky thrust with sword or lance +may end all our trouble, and leave me sole king; but won't the holy fox +Dunstan grieve if his pet, his favourite, gets hurt? Come, cheer up, +Elfric, my boy; dismiss dull care, and be yourself again!" + +Elfric tried very hard to do so, and again partly succeeded. They had +extended their walk all round the limits of the camp. It was a beautiful +starlit night: there was a new moon, which was just going down, and an +uncertain light hung about the field which was to be the scene of the +conflict. It was one of those bright nights when the very aspect of +nature suggests thoughts of the Eternal and the Infinite; when the most +untutored being, gazing up into the deep blue void, finds his mind +struggle vainly to grasp the hidden secrets those depths conceal; when +the soul seems to claim her birthright, and dreams of an existence +boundless, illimitable, as the starry wastes around. Such were, perhaps, +the ideas which animated the philosophers of the old heathen world when +they placed their departed heroes amongst the constellations; such, +perhaps, the thoughts which led the dying apostate Julian to bid his +followers weep no more for a prince about to be numbered with the stars. + +Thoughts of peace would those radiant orbs have spoken, under any other +circumstances, to the ardent youth as he gazed upon them; but now they +oppressed him with the consciousness that he was at enmity with the +mighty Unknown, that he was in danger, such danger as he could not +comprehend; not that which comes from the lance point or the sword +blade, but danger which fills the soul with the consciousness of its +existence, yet is impalpable, not having revealed itself, only its presence. + +"Goodnight, Elfric," said Edwy, as they reached the camp on their +return; "goodnight. I hope you will be in better spirits in the morning." + +Edwy retired within the folds which concealed the entrance to his own +tent. Close by was the tent appointed for Elfric, who acted as his page; +and the latter entered also, and sat down on a camp stool. + +His bed did not seem to invite him; he sat on the seat, his face buried +in his hands; then he suddenly rose, threw himself on his knees, only +for a moment, rose up again: + +"I can't, I can't pray; if my fate be death, then come death and welcome +the worst. There will at least be nothing hidden then, nothing behind +the scenes. I will not be a coward." + +The phrase was not yet written--"Conscience makes cowards of us all;" +yet how true the principle then as now--true before Troy's renown had +birth, true in these days of modern civilisation. + +He could not sleep peacefully, although he laid himself down; his hands +moved in the air, as if to drive off some unseen enemy, as if the danger +whose presence was impalpable to the waking mind revealed itself in sleep. + +"No, no" he muttered; "let the blow fall on me, on me, on me alone!" +then he rose as if he would defend some third person from the attack of +an enemy, and the word "Father" once or twice escaped his lips; yet he +was only dreaming. + +"Father!" again he cried, in the accents of warning, as if some imminent +danger menaced the loved one. + +He awoke, stared about, hardly recognising where he was. + +"What can I have been dreaming about?" he cried; "what can it all mean? +I thought I was at Aescendune;" and he strove vainly to recall the +scenes of his dream. + +The tread of the passing guard was the only sound which broke the +stillness of the camp. + +"I cannot sleep," said Elfric, and walked forth. + +The night was waning, and in the east a red glow was creeping upwards; +the stars were, however, still brilliant. Opposite, at the distance of +less than a mile, the reflection of the camp fires, now low, revealed +the presence of the enemy; before him the mist slowly arose in white +thin smoke-like wreaths, from the grass whereon many should soon sleep +their last sleep, now in unconsciousness of their fate. + +"I wonder where I shall lie?" thought Elfric, as if it were certain he +would fall. + +He felt cooler now, as the hour drew near; he watched the red light +creeping upward, and saw the light clouds above catch the glow, until +the birds began their songs, the glorious orb arose to gild the coming +strife, and the shrill trumpet in the camp was answered by the distant +notes in the camp of the foe, like an echo afar off. + + + CHAPTER XVII. THE SLEEP OF PEACE. + +The first day after the departure of the king from Aescendune passed +rapidly away. The soldiers who had remained behind with Redwald were +quiet and orderly in their demeanour, and even, in obedience to secret +orders, attended the evensong at the minster church, as if moved thereto +by devotion, although the curious spectator might easily discover the +unaccustomed character of their service, by the difficulty with which +they followed the prayers, and the uneasy impatience with which they +listened to a lengthened exposition of a portion of the Anglo-Saxon +version of the Gospels from Father Cuthbert. + +The old thane and all his family were very anxious, it may be readily +believed, for the earliest news from the field of battle, for battle +every one agreed was impending; and, to gratify their natural curiosity. +Redwald sent out quick and alert members of his troop, to act as +messengers, and bear speedy news from the scene of action. + +The night set in clear and bright, as we have already seen; and while +poor Elfric was wandering about uneasily beneath that brilliant sky, the +same stars looked down peacefully upon his home, where all slept sweetly +under the fostering care, as they would have said, of their guardian angels. + +The morn broke brightly, and with every promise of a fine harvest day. +The labourers were speedily again in the fields; the cattle wandered +under the herdsman's care to their distant pastures; the subdued +tinkling of the sheep bells met the ear, and the other subdued sounds +which soothe the air on a summer's day; and so the hours fled by, and no +one would have dreamed that, not twenty miles away, man met man in the +fierce and deadly struggle of war. + +When the reapers assembled for their midday meal, they discussed the +merits of the quarrel, and nearly all those who had been brought under +the eye of "Edwy the Fair" were eager in pleading his cause, and trying +to find some extenuation of his misdeeds in the matter of the illegal +marriage, for such it was, from the mildest point of view; and scarcely +a voice was raised on the opposite side, until Ella drew near the scene +of conversation, and observed that "while God forbid they should judge +the matter harshly, yet law was law, and right was right, and a +beautiful face or winsome look could not change it." + +Strolling near the field, seemingly absorbed in thought, walked Redwald, +and seeing the reapers, he came towards them. + +"A picture of peaceful enjoyment," he quietly said. "How often have I +wished I could but lay down sword and lance to take more innocent +weapons in hand, and to spend my declining days 'mid scenes like these." + +"Indeed!" said Ella. "It is generally thought that men whose trade is +war love their calling." + +"Yes; sometimes the fierce din of battle seems a pastime fit for the +gods, but the banquet is apt to cloy." + +"Have you followed your profession for many years?" + +"Since I was a mere child; even my boyhood was passed amid the din of arms." + +There were very few professional soldiers in that day, and they were +much dreaded. An Englishman was always ready to take up arms when +lawfully called by his feudal superior, or when home or civil rights +were in danger, but he generally laid them down and returned to his +fields with joy; hence the rustics looked upon a man like Redwald with +much undisguised curiosity. + +"Think you we shall soon hear from the contending parties?" asked +Alfred, who was, as usual, in attendance upon his father. + +"Perhaps by nightfall; one of my men has just returned to tell me that +the king's progress was stopped by an entrenched camp of the rebels, and +that they expected to fight at early dawn." + +The news was unexpected, and every one felt his heart beat more quickly. + +"I have a messenger already on the spot, and so soon as the royal forces +have gained the victory he will speed hither as fast as four legs can +bring him; we shall probably hear by eventide." + +It is needless to say how every one panted for the decisive news. Ella +and Alfred soon returned to the castle, and Redwald took his horse, and +rode out, as he said, to meet the messenger. + +The hours seemed to pass more slowly; the sun drew near the west, the +shadows lengthened; and Ella, with the lady Edith, Alfred, Edgitha, and +all the members of the little society, could hardly bend their minds to +any occupation, mental or physical. Elfric was ever in their thoughts. + +"O Ella!" said his wife, "this suspense is very hard to bear; I long to +hear about our boy." + +The mother's heart was bound up in him, as if there were no other life +in danger that day; Edwy or Edgar, it was little to her in comparison +with her longing for her first-born son. + +"He is in God's Hands, dearest!" returned her husband; "and in better +Hands than ours." + +Well might the thoughts of the lady Edith be concentrated on the crisis +before her. She had borne, with a mother's wounded heart, the separation +of three years, and now it was a question of a few short hours whether +she should ever see him again or not. Now fancy painted him wounded, nay +dying, on the bloodstained field; now it impelled her to sally forth +towards the scene, as though her feeble strength could bear her to him. +Now she sought the chapel, and found refuge in prayer. She had found +refuge many many hours of that eventful day, but especially since +Redwald had borne the news of the imminent battle. + +At length the long suspense was ended. Redwald was seen riding at full +speed towards the castle, followed by the long-expected messenger. + +"Victory! victory!" he cried; "the rebels are defeated; the king shall +enjoy his own." + +"But Elfric, my son! my son!" + +"Is safe: and will be here in a day or two, perhaps tomorrow." + +"Thank God!" and the overcharged heart found relief in tears--happy +tears of joy. + +The messenger who followed Redwald brought detailed accounts of the +event. According to his statements it appeared that the king had broken +through the hostile entrenchment, and had scattered their forces in the +first attack. The messenger particularly asserted that he had seen +Elfric, and had been charged with the fondest messages for home, where +the youth hoped to be in a few days at the latest, seeing there was no +longer an enemy to fear. + +The hearts of all present were filled with thankfulness and joy. + +"Come, my beloved Edith," said the old thane. "Let us go first to thank +God;" and they went together to the chapel which had witnessed so many +earnest prayers that day--now, they believed, so fully answered. + +All gloom and despondency seemed removed, and Ella went forth to walk +alone in the woods, to meditate in silence on the goodness of God. +Nearly each evening this had been his habit. The woods, he said, were +God's first temples, and when alone he best raised his heart from nature +to nature's God. + +His thoughts were happy that evening: his first-born boy would be +restored to him, and, like the father in the Gospels, he longed to +embrace the prodigal, and to tell him that all was forgiven. But he +schooled himself to patience, and many a fervent thanksgiving did he +offer as he wandered amidst the grassy glades. + +But he was more weary than usual with the toil and anxiety of the day, +and shortly seated himself upon a mossy bank beneath an aged oak. The +trees grew thickly behind and before him, on each side of the glade, +which terminated at no great distance in the heart of the pathless +forest, so that no occasional wayfarer would be likely to pass that way. + +There he reposed, until a gentle slumber stole over him and buried all +his senses in oblivion. + +The day was nearly spent, the light clouds which still reflected the +sun's ruddy glow were fast fading into a grey neutral tint, and darkness +was approaching. Once a timid deer passed along the glade, and started +as it beheld the sleeping form, then went on, but started yet more +violently as it passed a thicket on the opposite side. The night breeze +had arisen and was blowing freshly; but still the old man slept on, as +though he slept that sleep from which none shall awaken until the +archangel's trump. + +Meanwhile they grew uneasy at the hall over his prolonged absence, and +at length Alfred started to find his father, beginning to fear that the +excitement of the day had been too great for him, and that he might need +assistance. He knew the favourite glade wherein the aged thane was wont +to walk, and the mossy bank whereon he frequently reposed, so he lost no +time, but bent his steps directly for the spot. + +As he drew near, he saw his father lying on the bank beneath the oak as +still in sound sleep, and marvelled that the chilly air of the evening +had not awoke him. He was not wont to sleep thus soundly. He approached +closely, but his steps did not arouse the sleeper. He now bent over him, +and put his hand on his shoulder affectionately and lovingly. + +"Father, awake," he said; "the night is coming on; you will take cold." + +But there was no answering voice, and the sleeper stirred not. Alfred +became seriously alarmed, but his alarm changed suddenly into dread +certainty. The feathered shaft of an arrow met his eye, dimly seen in +the darkness, as it stuck in the left side of the sleeping Ella. +Sleeping, indeed. But the sleep was eternal. + +Horrified at the sight, refusing to believe his eyes, the son first +continued his vain attempts to awake his sire, then fell on his knees, +and wrung his hands while he cried piteously, "O father, speak to me!" +as if he could not accept the fact that those lips would never salute +him more. The moonbeams fell on that calm face, calm as if in sleep, +without a spasm of pain, without the contraction of a line of the +countenance. The weapon had pierced through the heart; death had been +instantaneous, and the sleeper had passed from the sleep of this earth +to that which is sweetly called "sleep in the Lord," without a struggle +or a pang. + +His heart full of joy and thanksgiving, he had gone to carry his tribute +of praise to the very throne of God. + +When the first paroxysm of pain and grief was over, the necessity of +summoning some further aid, of bearing the sad news to his home, pressed +itself upon the mind of Alfred, and he took his homeward road alone, as +if he hardly knew what he was doing, but simply obeyed instinct. Arrived +there, he could not tell his mother or sister; he only sought the +chamberlain and the steward, and begged them to come forth with him, and +said something had happened to his father. They went forth. + +"We must carry something to bear him home," he said, and they took a +framework of wood upon which they threw some bearskins. + +Alfred did not speak during the whole way, save that in answer to the +anxious inquiries of his companions he replied, "You will see!" and they +could but infer the worst from his manner, without giving him the pain +of telling the fatal truth. + +At length they reached the glade where the dead body lay. The moon was +bright, and in her light they saw the fatal truth at once. + +"Alas, my master! alas, my dear lord! Who has done this? Who could have +done it?" was their cry. "Was there one who did not love and revere him?" + +More demonstrative than Alfred had been were they in their lamentations, +for the deepest grief is often the most silent. + +At length they raised the body, the temple of so pure and holy a spirit, +which had now returned to the God Who gave it, reverently as men would +have handled the relics of some martyr saint, and placed it on the bier +which they had prepared. Then they began their homeward route, and ere a +long time had passed they stood before the great gate of the castle with +their burden. + +It now became a necessity for Alfred to announce the sad news to his +widowed mother; and here the power of language fails us--the shock was +so sudden, so unexpected. The half of her life was so suddenly torn from +the bereaved one, that the pang was well-nigh insupportable. But God +tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, and has promised that the strength +of His beloved ones shall be even as their day. So He strengthened the +sensitive frame to bear a shock which otherwise might have slain it. + +The sounds of lamentation and woe were heard all over the castle as they +slowly bore the body to the domestic chapel, while some drew near, +impelled by an irresistible desire to gaze upon it, and then cried aloud +in excess of woe. Amongst the others, Redwald approached, and gazed +fixedly upon the corpse; and Eric the steward often declared, in later +days, that he saw the wound bleed afresh under the glance of the +ruthless warrior, but perhaps this was an afterthought. + +Father Cuthbert, who had now been elected prior of the monastic house +below, on the banks of the river, soon heard the sad news, and hastened +up to tender the sweet consolations of religion--the only solace at +such a time, for it is in seasons of suffering that we best comprehend +the Cross. + +When he entered he saw the corpse in the chapel, where they had placed +it before the altar, and he could only say, "Alas, my lord! alas, my +dear friend!" until he knelt down to pray, and rose up somewhat calmed. + +Then he sought the chamber where the lady Edith hid her woe, and there +he showed her that God was love, hard though it was sometimes for the +frail flesh to see it; and he bade her look to the Divine Sufferer of +Whom it is said, "In all their afflictions He was afflicted;" and so by +his gentle ministrations he brought calm to the troubled breast, and it +seemed as if one had said to the waves of grief, "Peace, be still." + +And then he gathered the household to prayer, and while they prayed many +a "_Requiescat_" for the faithful soul, as they said the dirge +commending to the Fathers Hands a sheep of His fold, so they also prayed +for strength to see the love which was hidden behind all this sad, sad +visitation, and to know the meaning of the words "Though He slay me, yet +will I trust in Him." + +And then he bade them rest--those, at least, who were able to do so-- +while he watched by the body, as was then the custom, all through the +deep night. + +And so the stars which had looked down from heaven so peacefully upon +the house of Aescendune the night before, of which we wrote, now looked +down as coldly bright as if no change had occurred, shining alike upon +weal or woe, upon crime or holy deed of saint. Yet as the kneeling friar +saw them through the chapel window, he thought they were but the golden +lights which lay about the confines of that happy region where the +faithful live in unspeakable felicity for ever with their Lord, and he +found consolation in the thought of the Eternal and the Infinite. + + + CHAPTER XVIII. THE BATTLE. + +The early morn, as we have already seen, broke upon the adverse hosts of +Edwy and Edgar as the trumpet sounded to arouse them from their +slumbers, in many instances from the last slumber they should ever enjoy. + +Every soldier was on his legs in a moment, and, in the first place, +preparations were made for breakfast: for it was a recognised fact +amongst our ancestors that if you wanted a man to fight or do anything +else well, you must feed him well first. So the care of the body was +never neglected, however pressing the danger. + +Accordingly, Edwy called Elfric to sit by his side at the substantial +meal which commenced the day, and saw, with much pleasure, that the +cloud had partly passed from his friend's brow for the hope of immediate +action, of the excitement of battle, had done much to drive lowness and +depression from the young warrior. So he strove to chat and laugh with +the loudest, and when the moment came to marshal the host, and to put +them in array, his spirits were as high as in old times. + +The cavalry, which was their strongest arm, was under the command of +Edwy himself, although a sturdy warrior, who had fought in many a +battle, rode on his right hand to supply his lack of experience. + +The main body of the infantry was under the command of Earl Cynewulf, +while the reserve was under the command of Redwald's immediate +subordinate, and consisted almost exclusively of the household guard. + +The plan of attack, for it was quite decided that they should take the +initiative, was simple, and in accordance with the ordinary tactics of +the times. The heavy-armed foot were bidden first to advance upon the +entrenchments which crowned the opposite hill, and to break the infantry +of the enemy, which was drawn up before them in formidable array; this +done, the horse were immediately to avail themselves of the opening thus +made, and the entrenchments to be assaulted by both cavalry and infantry. + +Armed with huge axes, clad in mail, and bearing large shields, the foot +advanced to the attack. They were a gallant company; and as the sun +shone upon their glittering armour, or was reflected back from the +bright steel of their axes, they might well inspire faint hearts with +terror; but faint hearts were not amongst those opposed to them. The +chosen men of the northwest, some of half-British blood, crowned the +opposite hill, drawn up in front of their entrenchments, as if they +scorned any other defence than that supplied by their living valour. +They had borrowed their tactics from the Danes: deep and strong on all +sides, they seemed to oppose an impenetrable wall to the foe; they had +their shields to oppose to darts or arrows, their axes for the footmen, +their spears to form a hedge of steel no horse could surmount. + +Even should they yield to the pressure, still all would not be lost; +their retreat was secured into the entrenchments, and there they might +well hope to detain the enemy until the whole population should rise +against the men of Wessex and their leader, and his cause become hopeless. + +Steadily up the hill came the brave troops of Edwy, and from within +their ranks, as they ascended the slope, a shower of arrows was +discharged by the archers who accompanied them, under their protection; +but no return was yet made by the foe, until they were close at hand, +when a loud war cry burst from the hostile ranks, and a perfect shower +of darts and arrows rained upon the invaders. + +Still they persevered, although they left a living, struggling line on +the bloody grass behind them--persevered, like men longing for the +close hand-to-hand encounter, longing to grasp their foes in deadly +grip. The shock arrived; and axe and sword were busy in reaping the +harvest of death. So great was the physical strength of the combatants +that arms and legs were mown off by a stroke, and men were cloven in +two, from the crown downwards, by the sweeping blows of the deadly steel. + +It was a fearful struggle, but it was a short one; the line was unshaken +in its strength; in vain Edwy's archers behind shot their arrows so as +to curve over the heads of their brethren and fall amongst the foe; the +men of Wessex recoiled and gave way. + +Edwy seized what he thought the auspicious moment when the ranks of the +foe, although unbroken, were yet weary and breathless, and ordered his +cavalry to charge. The Mercians beheld the coming storm at a distance; +down on their knees went the first line, their spears resting on the +ground; behind them the second bent over to strike with their axes; +while a third rank, the archers, drew their bows, and prepared to +welcome the rushing enemy with a discharge of deadly arrows. + +Every heart beat quickly as the fatal moment came near; onward, with a +sound like thunder, galloped the horse of Edwy. He himself rode at their +head, clad in light armour, and by his side Elfric. All trace of fear +was gone now in the mad excitement of the charge; before them they saw +the wail of spear points; nearer and nearer their coursers bounded, +until they seemed to fly. Every rider leant forward, that his sword +might smite as far as possible; and, daring the points, trusting perhaps +to the breastplates of their horses and their own ready blades, they +rushed madly upon the foe. + +In cold blood no one could, perhaps, have ridden fearlessly against such +an obstacle; but in the excitement of the moment the warriors of Edwy +seemed capable of charging any imaginable barrier: and it became almost +a pure calculation, not of the respective bravery of the troops, for +none were cowards on either side, but of mere physical laws of force and +resistance. + +Elfric scarcely looked where he was going. He saw a shining lance point, +about to impale him, he diverted it by his sword blade, as he was +hurried into the midst of axes, swords, lances, and beheld the warrior +opposite to him in the second rank raise his axe to inflict a fearful +blow, which would have severed his horse's neck, had not an arrow +transfixed the foe. + +The wedge seemed partly broken, and the king had begun to exult in the +anticipation of speedy victory, when from behind each end of the +entrenchment rushed two bodies of hostile cavalry; they fell upon Edwy's +forces in the rear, and in a few moments all was confusion. + +The warriors of Edgar rallied, drove the horse out of their lines, +advanced slowly, and the horsemen of the rival brothers, mingled +together in deadly strife, in personal combat, where each man seemed to +have sought and found his individual foe. + +They moved slowly down the bill towards the brook, man after man falling +and dotting the green sward of the hill with struggling, writhing bodies. + +Meanwhile, Cynewulf was attempting to rally the flying foot, which had +been cut almost in two by the charge of the Mercian cavalry: he +succeeded, with great difficulty, in doing so at the brook which ran +along the bottom of the valley, and, with the stream in their front, +they prepared to afford a refuge to their own, and to resist the hostile +horse. + +Edwy saw the opportunity, and, raising himself in his stirrups, called +upon his friends to follow him: he leapt the brook, and galloped round +behind the foot, where nearly all the unwounded horsemen followed him. +He had fought well, had slain more than one foe with his own royal hand, +as became a descendant of Cerdic, and now he but retired to organise +another and stouter resistance to the daring foe. + +But he was forced to admit now that Cynewulf was right in his +conjecture, and that they were utterly outnumbered, for the foe poured +forth from their entrenchment and advanced in good order down the slope; +while the Mercian cavalry, forming in two detachments to the left and +right, crossed the brook and charged along its banks upon the flanks of +the Wessex infantry, at the same moment. + +The warrior upon whose advice Edwy had been told to depend had fallen: +he was left to his own resources. Alas! he forgot he was a commander, +and, waving his plumed cap as a signal for his brother knights to +follow, charged upon the horsemen who were advancing up stream at like +speed, forgetting that a similar body was advancing in the opposite +direction, and that as all his force were following his lead, the +opposite flank of the foot was unprotected. + +In a single minute they were all engaged in the fiercest melee which +imagination can well paint, fighting as furiously as men of the same +blood only seem to fight when once the claims of kindred are cast aside. +Swords ascended and descended with deadly violence; horses raised +themselves up on their hind legs, and, catching the deadly enthusiasm, +seemed to engage their fellows; riders fell, sternly repressing the +groan which pain would extort, while their steeds, less self controlled, +uttered, when wounded, those ear-piercing cries only heard from the +animals in deadly terror or pain. + +In the midst of this tumult Elfric engaged a Mercian of superior size +and strength; it was his second personal encounter; in his first, he had +seen his adversary fall with a warrior's stern joy, but now he was +overmatched; borne down by an arm twice as strong as his own, his guard +was broken down, and a deadly blow laid open his shoulder, cutting the +veins in the neck of his horse at the same fell sweep. The animal, +blinded with blood, staggered, fell, and he was down amongst the horses' +feet, confined by one leg, for his horse rolled partly upon him in its +dying struggles; while he felt the hoofs of other chargers in close +proximity to his heed. + +A loud cry, "They fly! They fly! Victory! Victory!" reached him even +then. He well knew from which party the cries must proceed, and that he +was left to the mercy of the victorious Mercians. + +It was even so; the charge of the hostile cavalry on the left flank had +broken down the ranks of the infantry on that side; the hostile foot had +contrived to cross the brook in the confusion, and all was lost. + +The reserve now came rapidly forward, but, seeing at a glance the state +of things, retired to defend the entrenched camp, so as to give the king +and his broken and routed followers time to escape, while they made good +the defence with their lives. So they retired at once into the camp, +whither Edwy and his few surviving companions galloped a moment after them. + +Edwy was unhurt; he dismounted: his fair face flushed to a fiery red +with heat and excitement, he leapt on the entrenchment and looked on the +plain. He saw those of his own followers who had not yet made good their +escape, ridden down, cut to pieces, slaughtered in the excitement of the +moment without mercy; the sight stung him, be would have sallied out to +their defence, but Cynewulf, who was yet living, met him in the gateway, +and sternly seized the bridle of his steed. + +"My lord and king," he said; "your life is precious to Wessex, you may +not throw it away." + +"I cannot see my followers slaughtered: loose my bridle, I command you;" +and he raised his sword impetuously. + +"You may cut me down, and so reward my faithful service; but, living, +you shall not pass me on your road to destruction. My lord, I am old +enough to be your father." + +But there was one gay young noble present, who knew better than Cynewulf +the key to Edwy's heart. He was one of the boon companions we have been +before introduced to; but he had fought, poor young fellow, gallantly +all that day, and now he could fight no longer: Edwy saw him reel and +fall from his horse. + +"Elfgar!" he said; as he strove to raise his friend and subject from the +ground--"not seriously wounded I hope!" + +"Dying, and for my king, as is my duty let a dying voice reach you, my +dear lord. Save yourself if you would save Elgiva, if you--if you--" +the words came broken and faint "--are slain, she will be at the mercy +of her deadly foes." + +His head fell helplessly down upon his shoulder, and ere the king could +make any reply, he saw that he was indeed past hope. + +But his dying words had sunk deeply into the heart of Edwy. + +"Poor Elfgar! he was right. O Elgiva! Elgiva! this is a sad day for thee." + +"Return then to her, my lord," said Cynewulf. "See, they are preparing +now to assault the camp; I can hold it for hours, and if you are not +here, I can make good terms with our foes; but, if you stay, you but +embarrass us: ride out, my liege." + +"And desert my subjects?" + +"They will all acquit you: haste, my lord, haste, before they surround +the camp, for your fair queen's sake, or you are lost." + +"Come, my men, we must fly," said Edwy, sullenly; and he led the way +reluctantly to the back of the camp. + +The road was partly encumbered with fugitives, but not wholly, as most +of them sought the entrenched camp. Cynewulf accompanied him to the +gate, where he stopped to give one last piece of advice. + +"Fly, my lord, for Wessex at once; lose no time; the best route will be +the Foss Way; they will not suspect that you have taken that direction. +Ride day and night; if you delay anywhere you are lost." + +"Farewell, faithful and wise counsellor. Odin and Thor send that we may +meet again;" and Edwy with only a dozen followers rode out at full speed. + +The Mercians had not yet reached that side of the camp, which was +concealed by woods which were clear of all enemies, and he rode on rapidly. + +"What has become of Elfric, my Leofric?" he said to one of his faithful +train. + +"I fear me he is dead: I saw him fall in the last struggle." + +"Poor Elfric! poor Elfric! then his forebodings have come true; he will +never see his father again." + +"It is all fortune and fate, and none can resist his doom, my lord," +said Leofric. + +"But Elfric; yes, I loved Elfric. I would I had never left that fatal +field." + +"Think, my lord, of Elgiva." + +"Yes, Elgiva--she is left to me and left all is left. Ride faster, +Leofric, I fancy I hear pursuers." + +They had, at Cynewulf's suggestion, taken fresh horses from the reserve, +and had little cause to fear pursuit. In an hour they reached the Foss +Way and rode along the route described in our former chapter, until, +reaching the frontiers of the territory of the old Dobuni, they left the +Foss, and rode by the Roman trackway which we have previously described, +until they turned into a road which brought them deep into Oxfordshire. +Here they were in a territory which had been a debateable land between +Mercia and Wessex, where the sympathies of the people were not strongly +enlisted on either side and they were comparatively safe. + +They passed Kirtlington; rested at Oxenford, then rode through +Dorchester and Bensington to Reading, whence they struck southward for +Winchester, where Edwy rested from his fatigue in the society of Elgiva. + +So ended the ill-advised raid into Mercia. + + + CHAPTER XIX. EARTH TO EARTH, AND DUST TO DUST. + +Although Edwy and his little troop had been successful in gaining the +main road, and in escaping into Wessex, yet few of his followers had +been so fortunate, and his broken forces were seeking safety and escape +in all directions, wanderers in a hostile country. A large number found +a refuge in the entrenched camp; but it was surrounded by the foe in +less than half-an-hour after the king's escape, and all ingress or +egress was thenceforth impossible. + +While one large body fled eastward towards the Watling Street, the +soldiers who had accompanied the king to Aescendune naturally turned +their thoughts in that direction. It was, as they had seen, capable of a +long defence--well provisioned, and already partly garrisoned; nor +could they doubt the joy with which their old companions would receive +them, either to share in the defence of the post, or to accompany them +in an honourable retreat southward. + +So, not only those who survived of the fifty who had left Aescendune the +previous morning, but all whom they could persuade to join them, +actuated separately by the same considerations, made their way in small +detachments through the forest towards the hall. Redwald had thoroughly +earned the confidence of all his warriors, and they would follow him to +death or victory with equal devotion. Now, in adversity, they only +sought to put themselves once more under the rule of their talented and +daring chieftain. + +Therefore it was that while Father Cuthbert was yet kneeling in the +chapel, where the body of the departed thane had been placed, the +devotions of the good priest were disturbed by the blowing of horns and +the loud shout whereby the first fugitives sought admittance into the +castle. + +Redwald had also been up nearly all night pacing his room, muttering +incoherently to himself. Over and over again he regarded intently a +locket containing a solitary tress of grey hair, and once or twice the +word "Avenged" rose to his lips. + +"And they little know," said he, soliloquising, "who the avenger is, or +what have been his wrongs; little know they how the dead is represented +in the halls of his sire--blind! blind! Whichever way the victory +eventually turn, he is avenged." + +While he thus soliloquised he was aroused by the same noise which had +disturbed Father Cuthbert's devotions, and, recognising its source, +betook himself to the gateway, where some of his own soldiers were on +guard, who, true to discipline, awaited his permission to allow their +comrades to enter: it is needless to say it was readily given. + +Broken and dispirited was the little troop of ten or a dozen men, who +first appeared in this manner after the fight; their garments torn and +bloody, some of them wounded, they yet raised a shout of joy as they saw +their trusted leader. + +"Whence come ye, my comrades in arms?" said he, "and what are your news +--you look like men who have fled from battle." + +"We did not fly till all was lost." + +The countenance of Redwald indicated some little emotion, though it was +transient as the lightning's flash in the summer night. + +"The king--is it well with him?" + +"He has fled with a small troop to the south." + +"Saw you aught of Elfric of Aescendune?" + +"He fell in the last charge of the cavalry." + +"Dead?" + +"We think so." + +"How is it that you have suffered yourselves to be beaten?" + +"Had you been there it might have ended differently. We became the +aggressors, and attacked a superior force, while they had all the +advantage of ground." + +"Come in. You must first have some food and wine; then you shall tell me +all. We may need your help here, and shall be glad of every able-bodied +man." + +"More are on the road." + +And so it proved, for party after party continued to fall in. The solemn +quiet, which so well befitted the house of mourning, was banished by the +presence of the soldiery in such large numbers, for early in the day +nearly a hundred and fifty were gathered together, and accommodation +threatened to fall short. + +Under these circumstances the lady Edith became very anxious that either +the departure of her unwelcome guests should be hastened, or that the +loved remains should be removed at once to the priory church, where she +could bemoan her grief in quiet solitude, and be alone with her beloved +and God. There seemed no rest or peace possible in the hall, and Redwald +was apportioning all the accommodation to his followers as they came, +preserving only the private apartments of the lady Edith from intrusion. + +She was still expecting the arrival of Elfric, for Redwald had not +communicated the news he had received, and she did not even know that +King Edwy had been defeated; so absorbed was she in her grief, that she +did not note the thousand little circumstances which might have told her +as much. + +But before the hour of terce, Alfred came into the room where she was +seated with her daughter, and she saw by his troubled countenance that +he had something to communicate which pained him to tell. + +"Elfric!" she said--"he is well?" + +"He has not come yet, my mother; and I grieve to say that we were +deceived yesterday--deceived about the battle." + +"How so?" + +"The king was defeated; he has fled southward, and there has been a +great slaughter." + +"But Elfric?" + +"No one can tell me anything about him," said Alfred, wringing his +hands. "Mother, you must leave this place." + +"Leave our home--and now?" + +"They talk of defending it against the forces of the Etheling Edgar, who +has been declared king; and we should all be in great danger." + +"But will they stay here against our will?" + +"Yes; for they say their lives depend upon it, that the Mercians scour +all the country round about, that all the roads are now occupied and +guarded, so that they can only hope to defend this place until they can +make terms with the King of Mercia, as they call Edgar, who is likely to +be acknowledged by all north of the Thames. The curse of the Church is, +they say, upon Edwy." + +"Father Cuthbert is still here, is he not?--what does he advise? where +shall we go?" + +"He says we can have the old house in which he, and the mass-thanes [xxix] +before him, lived while as yet the priory was incomplete +or unbuilt. It is very comfortable, and close to the church." + +"But to take him so soon from his home!" + +"They will place him in God's house, before the altar; there could not +be a better place where they or we could wish his dear remains to await +the last rites upon earth." + +At that moment Father Cuthbert entered the room unannounced. + +"Pardon me, my revered lady," he began; "but I grieve to say that your +safety demands instant action, and must excuse my intrusion; your life +and liberty are no longer safe here." + +"Life and liberty?" + +"There is some foul plot to detain you all here, on pretence your safety +requires it. I have been this morning to Redwald, and he refuses +permission for any one to leave the place, asserting that thus only can +he assure your safety. Now, it is plain that if the place comes to be +besieged you would be far safer in the priory or the old priests' house. +Our own countrymen would not injure us." + +"He will not detain us by force?" + +"I would not trust to that; but we must meet guile by guile. I have +pretended to be content on your behalf and he is just going to leave the +hall, with the greater part of his followers, to collect provisions and +cattle. I have told him that the Grange farm is well stocked; he has +caught the bait, and is going to superintend the work of spoliation in +person: far better, in the present need, that he should rob the estate +than that a hair of your head or of those of your children should perish." + +"But why do you suspect him of evil?" + +"I cannot tell you now. I have overheard dark, dark speeches. So soon as +he has gone, Alfred and I must summon all your own people who are in the +hall. We will then bring the body forth, and follow it ourselves; as we +shall outnumber those left behind I do not imagine they will dare, in +his absence, to interfere with our progress." + +"I will go at once," said Alfred, "and summon the household." + +"No; you would be observed. I am older and perhaps a little more +discreet. Stay with your mother till all is ready." + +Alfred reluctantly obeyed, and Father Cuthbert went forth. So great was +their anxiety that it almost banished the power of prayer, save such +mental shafts as could be sent heavenward in each interval of thought. + +At last Alfred, who was at the window, saw Redwald and his followers-- +nearly a hundred in number--leave the castle and ride across towards +the forest in the direction of the farm in question. Another moment and +Father Cuthbert entered. + +"Are you ready? If so, follow me." + +He took them by a private passage into the chapel, where four men +already stood by the bier, ready to head the procession, and thirty or +forty others were gathered in the chapel or about the door--their own +vassals, good and true. They all were armed. + +Father Cuthbert ascended the wooden tower above the chapel, which served +as a bell cot. He looked from its windows; the party of Redwald had +disappeared behind the trees. + +He came down and gave the signal. The sad procession started; they +descended the steps to the courtyard. Redwald had left some forty or +fifty men behind--men who had grown old in arms, and who, if they had +pleased, might perhaps have stopped the exit, but they were not +sufficiently in the confidence of their leader to take the initiative; +and the only man who was in his confidence, and whom he had charged to +see that no one departed, was fortunately at that moment in another part +of the building. The sentinel at the drawbridge was one of Redwald's +troop. He menaced opposition, and refused to let the drawbridge be +peaceably lowered. + +"Art thou a Christian?" said Father Cuthbert, coming forward in his +priestly attire, "and dost thou presume to interfere with a servant of +the Lord and to delay a funeral?" + +"I must obey my orders." + +"Then I will excommunicate thee, and deliver thy soul to Satan." + +And he began to utter some awful Latin imprecation, which so aroused the +superstition of the sentinel that he made no further opposition, which +perhaps saved his life, for the retainers of Aescendune were meditating +instant violence, indignant at the delay and the outrage to their lady. + +They themselves let the drawbridge down and guarded the sad cortege over +the plain. Their numbers increased every moment, and before they reached +the neighbourhood of the priory they had little cause to fear any +attack, should Redwald have arrived and have been rash enough to attempt +one. + +The old parsonage house, which had served for the residence of each +successive parish prior or mass-thane, was a large and commodious +building, containing all such accommodation as the family absolutely +required in the emergency, while furniture, provision and comforts of +all kinds were sent over from the priory, for the good fathers did not +forget at this hour of need that they owed their own home to the +liberality of Ella and his father. + +So when they had deposited the loved remains before the altar of the +church, and had knelt a brief season in prayer, the exiled family took +possession of their temporary home. It was hard--very hard--to give +up their loved dwelling at such a season of affliction, but the dread +which Redwald had somehow inspired made it a great relief to be removed +from his immediate presence. + +Yet they could give no reason for the feeling they all shared. Father +Cuthbert evidently suspected, or knew, things which he as yet concealed +from them. + +"Who could have slain the husband and father?" + +This was the unanswered question. Their suspicions could only turn to +Redwald or some of his crew: no marauders were known to lurk in the +forest; there was, they felt assured, not one of his own people who +would not have died in his defence. Again, it was not the lust of gold +which had suggested the deed, for they had found the gold chain he wore +untouched. What then could have been the motive of the murderer? + +Father Cuthbert had found a solution, which was based upon sad +experience of the traditional feuds so frequently handed down from +father to son. Still he would not suggest further cause of disquietude, +and added no further words. + +The utter uncertainty about Elfric was another cause of uneasiness. +Whether he had gone southward with the king, or had fallen on the +battlefield, they knew not; or whether he had surrendered with the +prisoners taken in the entrenched camp, and who had been all admitted to +mercy. + +In the course of the morning they saw Redwald return, laden with the +spoils of the Grange farm--oxen and sheep, waggons containing corn, +driven before him. What passed within on his entrance they could not +tell; how narrow their escape they knew not--were not even certain it +had been an escape at all. + +It was now determined that the interment should take place on the +morrow, and the intelligence was communicated rapidly to all the tenantry. + +Hourly they expected the forces of Mercia to appear, and exact a heavy +account from Redwald for his offences. He was supposed to be the +instigator of the expedition which had failed so utterly; it was not +likely that he would be allowed to retain Aescendune a long time. The +only surprise people felt was that he should have dared to remain at the +post when all hope of successful resistance had ceased. He had his own +reasons, which they knew not. + +Under these circumstances it seemed desirable to hurry forward the +interment, lest it should be interfered with from without, in the +confusion of hostile operations against the hall. + +The priory church was a noble but irregular structure, of great size for +those days. The cunning architect from the Continent, who had designed +it, had far surpassed the builders of ordinary churches in the grandeur +of his conception. The lofty roof, the long choir beyond the transept, +gave the idea of magnitude most forcibly, and added dignity to the +design. In the south transept was a chapel dedicated especially to St. +Cuthbert, where the aged Offa reposed, and the mother of Ella. There +they had removed the body to await the last solemn rites. Six large wax +tapers burned around it, and watchers were there day and night-- +mourners who had loved him well, and felt that in him they had lost a +dear friend. + +The wife, the son, or the daughter, were ever there, but seldom alone. +For when the monks in the choir were not saying the canonical hours, or +the low mass was not being said at one of the side altars, still the +voice of intercession arose, with its burden: + +"Eternal rest give unto him, O Lord, +And let perpetual light shine upon him." + +At length the morning came, the second only after death. The +neighbouring thanes whom the troubled times did not detain at home, the +churls of the estate, the thralls, crowded the precincts of the minster, +as the solemn bell tolled the deep funeral knell. At length the monks +poured into the church, while the solemn "_Domino refugium_" arose from +their lips--the same grand words which for these thousand years past +have told of the eternity of God and the destiny of the creature; +speaking as deeply to the heart then as in these days of civilisation. + +The mourners entered, Alfred supporting his widowed mother, who had +summoned all her fortitude to render the last sad offices to her dear +lord; her daughter, a few distant relations--there were none nearer of +kin. The bier, with its precious burden, was placed in the centre before +the high altar. Six monks, bearing torches, knelt around it. A pall, +beautifully embroidered, covered the coffin, a wreath of flowers +surmounting a cross was placed upon it. + +The solemn requiem mass commenced, and the great Sacrifice once offered +upon Calvary was pleaded for the soul of the deceased thane. When the +last prayer had been said, the coffin was sprinkled with hallowed water, +and perfumed with sweet incense, after which it was removed to its last +resting place. The grave was already prepared. Again the earthly cavern +was sprinkled with the hallowed water, emblematical of the blood of +sprinkling which speaketh better things than that of Abel, and the body +--the sacred dust for which Christ had died, in which God had dwelt as +in a temple--was lowered, to be sown in corruption, that hereafter it +might be raised in incorruption and joy unspeakable. + +All crowded to take the last sad look. Alfred felt his dear mother's arm +tremble as she leant on him, yet gazed firmly into that last resting +place, while the solemn strain arose: + +"Ego sum resurrectio et vita. Qui credit in Me, etiam si mortuus fuerit +vivet; et omnis qui vivit, et credit in Me, non morietur in aeternum." +[xxx] + + + CHAPTER XX. "AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT." + +The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn what had really +been the fate of the unhappy Elfric of Aescendune--whether he had +indeed been cut off with the work of repentance incomplete, or whether +he yet survived to realise the calamity which had fallen upon his household. + +He lived. When the blow of his adversary, as we have seen, crushed him +to the earth, and he lay there with his head on the ground, prostrate, +amidst kicking and plunging hoofs, and the roar and confusion of deadly +strife, Providence, without which not one sparrow falleth to the ground, +watched over him, and averted the iron hoofs from his forehead. Could +one have concentrated his gaze upon that little spot of earth and have +seen the furious hoofs graze, without injuring, that tender forehead, +could he have beheld the gallop of the retreating steeds over and around +that senseless form, for it now lay senseless, he would have realised +that there is One Whose Eye is observant of each minute detail which +concerns the life of His beloved ones--nay, Who knows the movements of +the tiniest insect, while His Hand directs the rolling spheres. And his +care preserved Elfric for His Own wise ends, until the fight receded, +leaving its traces behind it, as when the tide of ocean recedes after a +storm and the beach is strewn with wreck--bodies of men, of horses, +mutilated, dismembered, dead or dying, disabled or desperately wounded. + +Hours had passed, during which the sounds of the combat still maintained +at the entrenched camp came freshly on the ear, and then died away, +until the solemn night fell upon the scene, and the only sound which +smote the ear were faint, faint moans--cries of "Water! water!" +incessantly repeated from hundreds of feeble lips. + +It was then that Elfric awoke from the insensibility which had resulted +from exhaustion and the stunning blow he had received in his fall. Every +limb seemed in pain, for the loss of blood had not left the vital powers +strength for the maintenance of the due circulation through the body, +and the cold night air chilled the frame. He did not at first comprehend +where he was, but as his senses returned he perceived all too well that +he was left for dead. + +His first impulse was to see whether he had strength to arise. He raised +himself partially, first on one elbow, and then he strove to stand up, +but fell back feebly and helplessly, like an infant who first essays to +escape its mother's arms and to trust its feeble limbs. + +Then he looked around him, thus raising his head, and gazed upon the sad +and shocking scene. Close by him, with the head cleft literally in two +by a battle-axe, lay a horseman, and his blood reddened all the ground +around Elfric's feet, and had deeply dyed the youth's lower garments; a +horse, his own, lay dead, the jugular vein cut through, with all the +surrounding muscles and sinews; hard by, a rider had fallen with such +impetus, that his helmet had fixed itself deeply in the ground, and the +body seemed as if it had quivered for the moment in the air; a dart had +transfixed another through belt and stomach, and he lay with the weapon +appearing on either side the body. Near these lay another, whose thigh +had been pierced to the great artery, and who had bled to death, as the +deadly paleness of the face showed; here and there one yet lived, as +faint moan and broken utterance testified; but Elfric could bear no +more, his head sank upon the ground, and he hid his face. + +It was bright starlight, and the gleam of the heavenly host seemed to +mock the wounded youth as he thought of the previous night, when, sound +in body, he had wandered beneath the glittering canopy of the heavens; +and thus reminded, all the thoughts of that previous night came back +upon him, especially the remembrance of his sin, of his desertion of his +father, of his vicious life at court, of his neglect for three years and +more of all the obligations of religion, and he groaned aloud in the +anguish of his spirit. + +"Oh! spare me, my God!" he cried, "for I am not fit to die! Spare me, +that I may at least receive my father's forgiveness." + +For he felt as if he could not ask God to forgive him until he had been +forgiven by his father. Little did he think, poor boy, that that father +lay cold in death; that never could he hear the blessed words of +forgiveness from his tongue; neither had he the consolation of knowing +how completely he had been forgiven, and how lovingly he had been +remembered in his father's last hours upon earth. + +"I cannot die! I cannot die!" thus he cried; and he strove again to +raise himself from the ground, but in vain; strove again, as if he would +have dragged his feeble body through pain and anguish all the way to +Aescendune, but could not. The story of the prodigal son, often told him +by Father Cuthbert, came back to him, not so much in its spiritual as in +its literal aspect: he would fain arise and go to his father; but he +could not. + +"O happy prodigal!" he cried; "thou couldst at least go from that far +off country, and the husks which the swine did eat; but I cannot, I cannot!" + +While thus grieving in bitterness of spirit, he saw a light flitting +about amongst the dead bodies, and stopping every now and then; once he +saw it pause, and heard a cry of expostulation, then a faint scream, and +all was still; and he comprehended that this was no ministering angel, +but one of those villainous beings who haunt the battlefield to prey +upon the slain, and to despatch with short mercy those who offer resistance. + +He lay very, very quiet, hoping that the light would not come near him, +and he trembled every time it bent its course that way; but at length +his fears seemed about to be realised--it drew near, and he saw the +face of a hideous looking hag, dressed in coarse and vile garments, who +held a bloody dagger in the right hand, and kept the left in a kind of +bag, tied to her person, in which she had evidently accumulated great +store. Her eyes were roaming about, until the light suddenly was +reflected from the poor lad's brilliant accoutrements, and she advanced +towards him. + +He groaned, and sank backwards, and her hand was upon the dagger, while +she cast such a look as the fabled vampire might cast upon her destined +victim, loving gold much, but perhaps blood most, when all at once she +turned and fled. + +Elfric knew not what had saved him; when voices fell upon his ear, and +the baying of a dog. + +"Which way has that hag fled? Pursue her, she murders the wounded." + +The sound of rushing feet was heard, and Elfric felt that help was near, +yet leaving him, and he cried aloud, "Help! help! for the love of God." + +One delayed in his course, and came and stood over the prostrate form. +It was a monk, for the boy recognised the Benedictine habit, and his +heart sank within him as he remembered how pitilessly he had helped to +drive that habit from Glastonbury. + +"Art thou grievously wounded, my son?" + +"I feel faint, even unto death, with loss of blood. Oh! remove me, and +bear me home; if thou art a man of God leave me not here to perish in my +sins." + +The piteous appeal went to the heart of the monk, and he knelt down, and +by the aid of a small lamp, examined the wounds of the sufferer. + +"Thou mayst yet live, my son," he said; "tell me where is thy home; is +it in Mercia?" + +"It is! it is! My home is Aescendune; it is not far from here." + +"Aescendune--knowest thou Father Cuthbert?" + +"I do indeed; he was my tutor, once my spiritual father." + +"Thy name?" + +"Elfric, son of the thane Ella." + +The monk started, then raised a loud cry, which speedily brought two or +three men in the dress of thralls (theows) to his side. + +"She will murder no more, father; the dog overtook her, and held her +till we came; she was red with blood, and we knocked her down; Oswy here +brained her with his club." + +"It is well--she deserved her fate; but, Oswy, look at this face." + +"St. Wilfred preserve us!" cried the man "it is the young lord. He is +not dying, is he? She hadn't hurt him--the she-wolf?" + +"No, we were just in time, and only just in time; we must carry him home +to his father." + +The monk had started for the expected scene of battle, intent on doing +good, with a small party of the thralls of Aescendune, just after Edwy +had left the hall; consequently, he knew nothing of the death of the +thane or the subsequent events. Oh, how sweetly his words fell upon +Elfric's ears, "Carry him home to his father." + +A litter was speedily made; one of the thralls jumped into a willow tree +which overhung the stream, and cut down some of the stoutest boughs. The +others wove them with withes into a kind of litter, threw their own +upper garments thereon in their love, placed the poor wounded form as +tenderly upon it as a mother would have done, and bore him from the +field, ever and anon stopping to relieve some other poor wounded +sufferer, and to comfort him with the intelligence that similar aid was +at hand for all, as the various lights now appearing testified. + +For themselves, they felt all other obligation fade before their duty to +their young lord. He was object of their solicitude. + +So they bore him easily along, until they reached a stream; there they +paused and washed the heated brow, and allowed the parched lips to +imbibe, but only slightly, the pure fresh beverage, sweeter far than the +stimulant the good monk had poured down his throat on the field. Then +they arranged his dress--bound up his wounds, for the Benedictine was +an accomplished surgeon for the times; after which, having satisfied +himself that his patient was able to bear the transit, he departed, with +a cheerful benediction, to render the like aid to others. + +So comforted was Elfric, and so relieved from pain, that he slept all +through the following hours, as they bore him along through woodland +paths; and he dreamt that he had met his father and was clasped lovingly +in his forgiving arms. + +At daybreak they were six or seven miles from the camp, and they rested, +for the continued effort had wearied the bearers. They made a fire, +cooked their breakfast, and tried to persuade Elfric to eat, which he +did, sparingly. + +Then they resumed their journey; they kept as much in the shade as +possible, for it was a bright day; rested again at noontide, with only +five or six miles before them; started when the heat was a little +overpast, and just after sunset came in sight of the halls of +Aescendune, from the opening in the forest whence Elfric had beheld them +that night when he first brought Prince Edwy home in company with his +brother Alfred. + +The wounded youth raised himself up, looked with intense affection at +the home of his youth, and sank back contented on his couch, thinking +only of father and mother, brother and sister, and the sweet forgiveness +he felt sure awaited him. Poor boy! + +It was almost dark when they reached the gate of the castle, and the +drawbridge was up. One of the bearers blew his horn loudly, and the +summons brought the warder to the little window over the postern gate. + +"Who are you, and what do you seek?" was the cry. + +"We are bringing my young lord, Elfric of Aescendune, home from the +battlefield wounded." + +"Wait a while." + +A few minutes passed; then the drawbridge was lowered, and the bearers +bore their burden into the courtyard. Every moment Elfric expected to +see the beloved faces bending over him; but all seemed strange, till he +remembered that Redwald had remained behind at the hall; the four +bearers spoke uneasily to one another, and Oswy disappeared in the dusky +twilight. + +At length three or four men, in the military costume so familiar to +Elfric, approached the litter; and raising him, bore him into the +interior of the building, up the stairs, into the gallery, which partly +ran round at the height of the first floor. The door of a room was +opened, a familiar room; it had been his father's bedroom, and Elfric +was placed on the bed. + +"Ask them to come to me," he said "father, mother, Alfred, Edgitha! +--where are they?" + +But minute after minute passed by, and no one came near; there was no +light in the room, and it was soon very dark. Elfric became very +uncomfortable; it was not the kind of reception he had promised himself. + +"Why does not my father come," he muttered impatiently, "to see his +wounded boy?" and he felt at one moment his pride revive, then a +sickening feeling of anxiety filled his heart. + +But it was not until an hour had passed that he heard a heavy step on +the stairs, and soon the door opened, and Redwald appeared. + +Elfric. gazed upon him with surprise; especially when he noted the stern +cold look which sat on his features. As Redwald did not speak, Elfric +took the initiative. + +"Why is not my father here? I want to see him, Redwald; do send him to +me; say I must see him, I must--I cannot endure this longer; it is +more than I can bear." + +"Calm yourself and listen to me, for I have a strange story to unfold to +you." + +"Not now; some other time; do send them to me." + +"It must be heard now; and perhaps when you have heard it, you will +comprehend why they do not come." + +"But they will come?" + +"Elfric, there was, two generations back, a man who had two sons; he was +a noble thane of high descent, his eldest son was worthy of his father, +high souled, impetuous, brave, fiery, and in short, all a warrior's son +should be: the younger son had the heart of a monk, and was learned in +all pious tricks; he stole the father's heart from his elder brother." + +Elfric began to listen at this point. + +"At last, misjudgment and unkindness drove the elder brother from home, +and he sought food and shelter from men who had the souls of conquerors. +With them he lived, for his father disinherited him; he had no father, +he had no country." + +Elfric began to draw his breath quickly. + +"At length war arose between those who had sheltered and protected him, +and the people who should have been his own people; say what side was +the exile to be found on?" + +"He should have fought with his own people." + +"His own people were those who had really adopted him when his father +and family disowned him, and with them he fought for victory; but the +fates were unpropitious, the people with whom his father and brother +fought were successful; the son was taken prisoner, and adjudged to die +a traitor's death, his own father and brother consenting." + +Elfric began to comprehend all. + +"They put him on board an open boat, and sent him out to sea, at the +mercy of winds and waves; but not alone; he had married amongst the +people who had adopted him, and his boy would not forsake his sire, for +he had one boy--the mother was dead. This boy besought the +hard-hearted executioners of a tyrant's will to let him share the fate +of his sire, so earnestly, that at last they consented." + +"The boat, as it pleased fate, was driven by wind and tide on the shore +of Denmark, and there the unhappy exile landed; but he had been wounded +in the battle, and his subsequent exposure caused his early death; +before he died he bequeathed one legacy, and only one, to his son-- + +"Vengeance." + +Elfric was pale as death, and trembled visibly. + +"Then you are--" + +"Elfric, I am your cousin, and the deadly foe of you and yours!" + +"Then my poor father; but if you must find a victim seek it in me; spare +him! oh, spare him!" + +Redwald smiled; but such a smile. + +"At least let me see him now, and obtain his forgiveness. Redwald, he is +my father; you were faithful to your father; let me atone for my +unfaithfulness to mine." + +"You believe there is another world, perhaps?" + +Elfric. only answered by a look of piteous alarm. + +"Because, in that case, you must seek your father there; although I fear +Dunstan would say there is likely to be a gulf between you." + +Elfric comprehended him, and with a cry which might have melted a heart +of stone, fell back upon the bed. For a moment he lay like one stunned, +then began to utter incoherent ravings, and gazed vacantly around, as +one who is delirious. + +Redwald seemed for one moment like a man contending with himself, like +one who felt pity struggling with sterner emotions; yet the contest was +very short. + +"It is of no use--he must die; if hearts break, I hope his will break, +and save me the task of shedding his blood, or causing it to be shed; +there must be no weakness now; he has been sadly wounded; if he is left +alone, he will die; better so--I would spare him if I were not bound +by an oath so dread that I shudder to think of it. The others have +escaped: he must die." + +Still he walked to and fro, as if pity yet contended with the thirst for +vengeance in his hardened breast: perhaps it was his day of grace, and +the Spirit of Him, Who has said "Vengeance is Mine, I will repay," +pleaded hard with the sinner. Yet the gentle Voice pleaded in vain; +still he walked to and fro, until his resolution seemed firmly made; and +he left the chamber, fastening it on the outside. + + + CHAPTER XXI. "UNDER WHICH KING?" + +It will be remembered that one of the theows who had borne Elfric home +from the field of battle had become alarmed by the suspicious aspect of +things at the hall, and had escaped, by prompt evasion, the confinement +which awaited his companions. Oswy, for it was he, thus showed his +natural astuteness, while he also conferred the greatest possible +obligation upon Elfric, since he bore the news of his ill-timed arrival +at once to the priory. + +Here his worst suspicions were confirmed; and the faithful thrall heard +for the first time of the death of his late lord, and that he had given +his young master into the hands of his bitter foes. Alfred was at once +summoned; and a conference was held, in which Father Cuthbert, his +brethren, and the chamberlain and steward of the hall, took part. + +"It is now generally believed," said Father Cuthbert, "that Redwald is +the bitter enemy, for some reason, of the house of Aescendune. Has any +one here suspected that reason?" + +No one could give any reply. + +"I fear what I am about to say," he continued, "will startle you all. +Redwald is a member of the family himself." + +"A member of the family!" + +"Yes. Is there any one present who remembers the unhappy brother of our +late lamented lord--Oswald, the son of Offa?" + +"Yes," said the old chamberlain, "I remember him well; and I see now +what you mean." + +"Is not the expression of the face identical? Are they not the same +features, as one might say?" + +"Yet Redwald is much darker." + +"Because his mother was Danish, and he has inherited some of her +peculiarities, that is all." + +"Still," said the steward, "every one supposed that the unhappy Oswald +perished at sea with his son. Never shall I forget the grief of the old +thane Offa, when inquiring for the son, he learned that he had gone with +the father to his death. He would have adopted him." + +"And do we not," added a Benedictine. "say a mass daily at St. Wilfred's +altar for the souls of Oswald and his son Ragnar?" + +"Oswald may be dead; Ragnar yet lives in Redwald. The name alone is +changed." + +"But where are the proofs? We cannot wholly trust an imaginary resemblance." + +"It is not imaginary; and these are the proofs in question. The night +after the murder" (all looked at each other as if a sudden inspiration +struck them), "as I was going to the chapel from the lady Edith's +apartments, I passed through a passage little used, but leading past the +chamber allotted to Redwald, and only separated by a thin wainscoting. I +was startled as I passed it by the sound of a pacing to and fro; an +incessant pacing; and I heard the inmate of the room soliloquising with +himself as in a state of frenzied feeling. I caught only broken words +but again and again I heard 'Avenged;' and once 'Father you are +avenged;' and once 'Little do they know who is their guest;' once 'It is +a good beginning,' and such like ejaculations. I remained a long time, +because, as you will all see, the murderer stood revealed." + +"Then why did you not tell us before?" exclaimed all, almost in a breath. + +"Because it would have been of no avail. Had there been the least chance +of calling him to account, I should, you may be sure, have proclaimed +his guilt. But early in the morning fresh forces began to arrive to his +aid. My only endeavour was to get the lady Edith and her remaining +children safe from the castle; and it was only by dissembling my +feelings, by talking face to face with the man of blood, by pretending +to trust him, that I could succeed. Had he not thought us all perfectly +satisfied, he would never have left the hall to go foraging in person; +and now all would be well, but for this sad, sad chance, which has +placed the poor lad Elfric in his power." + +"But," said Alfred, "this makes the case worse than ever. Poor Elfric! +they will kill him. Oh, can this be Ragnar?" + +The Benedictines expressed themselves convinced, because the supposition +explained the present circumstances so clearly, and accounted for that +hitherto unaccountable circumstance--the murder. The steward and +chamberlain both fancied they recognised the family likeness; and so the +solution at which Father Cuthbert had arrived was accepted by all. + +The question was now what course to adopt, for the night was fast +wearing away. + +"Two things are to be done," said Father Cuthbert. "The first is to +secure the safety of the lady Edith and her children from any sudden +attack from the castle, to which effect I propose holding all the +vassals in arms; and, in case of any force leaving the hall, I purpose +giving the lady Edith and her daughter instant sanctuary in the priory, +while the vassals gather round its precincts; for, I fear me, this +Ragnar is a heathen, and would but little respect the house of God." + +"Could we not attack the hall and release Elfric? Think of Elfric," said +Alfred. + +"It would be madness; Redwald has more than a hundred and fifty men of +war within it. The place is full; we could not attack with the least +chance of success. No: the second thing I meant to propose was this, +that we should send an instant message to King Edgar, who is near at +hand, and explain the whole circumstances to him. He has many causes of +enmity against Redwald, and would probably come to our aid at once, as +the safety of his realm would require him to do eventually." + +"Let me be the messenger; he will surely listen to the pleadings of a +brother for a brother." + +"I had so designed," said Father Cuthbert; "and in order that no chance +may be thrown away, I will adventure myself in the lion's den, and +threaten with the penalties of excommunication this vindictive Redwald +or Ragnar." + +"No, father; you will never come out alive. No, no!" said they all. + +The last proposal was universally discouraged. Redwald had already +special cause of enmity against Father Cuthbert, who had robbed him of +part of his destined prey; and it was ultimately settled that Father +Swithin, another of the order, should be charged with the mission, with +the power to make conciliatory offers, or to act on the other course as +he should see fit; in short, to use all his wit for Elfric. + +Alfred did not delay a moment unnecessarily, but in the dawning light +set forward to seek Edgar, of whom he had no definite information, but +who was believed to linger in the neighbourhood of the battlefield, +holding council with earls and thanes as to the further steps to be +taken, and receiving the submission of the whole Mercian, East Anglian, +and Northumbrian nobility. + +Therefore, mounted upon a good steed, and accompanied by Oswy, he +rapidly traversed the country over which his brother had been so +painfully borne; slowly, however, in places, for here and there large +tracts of swamp obstructed the way, and in other places the thickets +were dense and impervious; even where the country was cultivated the +unpaved roads were rough and hazardous for riders. + +It was past the hour of nones, the ninth hour of the day, when the +riders reached the battlefield, which still bore frightful traces of the +recent combat; reddened with blood, which had left its dark traces on +large patches of the ground, and encumbered with the bodies of horses +and men which had not yet found sepulture, although bands of theows from +the neighbouring estates were busily engaged in the necessary toil, +excavating huge pits, and placing the dead--no longer rivals-- +reverently and decently in their last long home. Several wolves could be +discerned, hanging about under the skirts of the forest, but not daring +to come out into the plain while the day lasted and the men were about; +whole flocks of ravenous birds flew about the scene, now settling down +on the spots where the strife had been hottest, now soaring away when +disturbed in their sickening feast. + +It was the first time Alfred had ever gazed upon a battlefield; and now +he saw it stripped of all the romance and glamour which bards had thrown +over it, and the sight appalled him. + +He drew near a large pit into which the thralls were casting the dead. +Many of the bodies presented, as we have already seen, a most ghastly +spectacle; and nearly all had begun to decompose. Mentally he thanked +God that Elfric, at least, was not there; and he turned aside his head +in horror at the sight. + +He now inquired of the foreman of the labourers whether he knew where +the Etheling Edgar would be. + +"You mean King Edgar, for the Mercians will acknowledge no other king. +The people of Wessex may keep the enemy of the saints, if they like." + +"King Edgar, I mean. Where is he now?" + +"He has been holding a council at Tamworth town, in the old palace of +King Offa; and they say all the tributary kings have come there to be +his men, and all the great earls." + +"Can you tell me the nearest road to Tamworth?" + +"Why, it lies through the forest there, where you see those wolves +lurking about. They will begin to be dangerous when the sun goes down, +and perhaps some of them would not mind a snap at a horse or even a man, +now." + +"We must take our chance;" said Alfred: "life and death hang on our +speed," and he and Oswy rode on. + +The wolves were no longer seen. In the summer they generally avoided +men, at least during the day, and they were gradually becoming more +uncommon at that date. Alfred entertained little fear as he proceeded, +until the darkening shadows showed that night was near, and they were +still in the heart of the forest, when he began to feel alarmed. The +road before them was a good wide woodland path, and easy to follow even +in the gathering darkness. + +Suddenly their horses started violently, as a loud howl was heard +behind, and repeated immediately from different quarters of the forest. + +Alfred felt that it was the gathering of the ferocious beasts, which had +been attracted from distant forests by the scent of the battlefield, and +had thus happened to lie in increased numbers around their path. The +howling continued to increase, and their horses sped onward as if mad +with fear--it was all they could do to guide them safely. + +Nearer and nearer drew the fearful sound; and looking back they beheld +the fiery eyes swarming along the road after them. They had begun to +abandon hope, when all at once they heard the sound of advancing +horsemen in front of them, accompanied by the clank of arms. The wolves +heard it too, and with all the cunning cowardice of their race scampered +away from their intended prey, just as Alfred and Oswy avoided impaling +themselves upon the lances of the coming deliverers. + +"Whom have we here, riding at this pace through the woods?" cried out a +rough, manly voice. + +"The wolves were after the poor fellows," said another. + +"They may speak for themselves," said the leader, confronting Alfred. +"Art thou a Mercian and a friend of King Edgar? Under which king? Speak, +or die!" + +"I seek King Edgar. My name is Alfred, son of Ella of Aescendune." + +"Who sheltered the men of Wessex, and entertained the impious Edwy in +his castle." + +"We had no power to resist had we wished to do so." + +"Which you evidently did not. May a plain soldier ask you now why you +seek King Edgar?" + +"Because," said Alfred, "my father has been murdered, and my brother +made a prisoner by Redwald, the captain of King Edwy's hus-carles, who +holds our house, and has driven us all out." + +"Your father murdered! Your family expelled! Your brother a prisoner! +These are strange news." + +"Why this delay!" cried another speaker, riding up from behind. "The +king is impatient to get on. Ride faster." + +"The king!" cried Alfred. "Oh, lead me to him." + +"Who is this," demanded the second officer, "who demands speech of the +royal Edgar?" + +"Alfred of Aescendune. He tells us that the infamous Redwald holds the +fortified house there, has murdered the thane Ella, and expelled the +family, save the brother, whom he holds to ransom." + +"No, not to ransom," cried Alfred. "It is his life that is threatened. +Oh, take me to Edgar!" + +"He is close behind, in company with the Ealdorman of Mercia and Siward +of Northumbria." + +"Stay behind with him, Biorn, and let us continue our route. You may +introduce him to the king, if he will see him." + +The first party--the advance guard--now passed on, and was succeeded +almost immediately by the main body, foremost amongst whom rode Prince +or rather King Edgar, then only a youth of fifteen years of age. We last +beheld him a boy of twelve, at the date of Elfric's arrival at the court +of Edred. By his side rode Siward, Ealdorman of Northumbria. + +"Who is this?" cried the latter, as he saw Alfred and his attendant +waiting to receive him. + +"Alfred of Aescendune, with a petition for aid against Redwald, who has +seized his father's castle." + +"Alfred of Aescendune!" cried Edgar. "Halt, my friends, one moment. +Alfred of Aescendune, tell me your story; to me, Edgar, your king." + +Alfred hastened to pour his tale of sorrows into an ear evidently not +unsympathising, and when he had concluded Edgar asked--"And tell me +what is your request. It shall be granted even to the uttermost." + +"Only that you, my lord, would hasten to our aid and deliver my brother +for his poor widowed mother's sake." + +"We should send a troop against Redwald in any case, but even had our +plans been otherwise, know this, Alfred of Aescendune, that he who by +his devoted service saved the life, or at least the liberty, of Dunstan, +the light of our realm of England, and the favourite of heaven, has a +claim to ask any favour Edgar can grant. + +"Siward, my father, bid the advanced guard bend its course towards +Aescendune at once." + +"My lord, the men are too weary to travel all night. We had purposed +halting when we reached the battlefield on our march southward. There is +a cross-country road thence to Aescendune, almost impassable in the night." + +"Then we will travel early in the morning; and doubt not, Alfred, we +shall arrive in time to chastise this insolent aggressor. Redwald has +been my poor brother's evil spirit in all things; he shall die, I swear +it," said the precocious Edgar, a man before his time. + +"But, my lord," said Alfred, "may I ask but one favour, that you will +permit me to proceed and relieve the anxiety of my people with the +tidings of your approach?" + +"If you must leave our side, such an errand would seem to justify you. +Poor Elfric! I remember him well. I could not have thought him in any +danger from Redwald." + +"Redwald is his, is our bitterest foe." + +"Indeed," said Edgar, and proceeded to elicit the whole history of the +case from Alfred. + +The sad tale was not complete till they reached the battlefield, and +encamped in the entrenchments the young prince had occupied the night +before the combat. + +"We had intended," said Edgar, "to march at once for London, owing to +news we have received from the south, but we will tarry at Aescendune +until the work is completed there, even if it cost us our crown. + +"Nay, Siward, I may have my way this once. I am soldier enough to know I +may not leave an enemy behind me on my march." + +"But a small detachment might accomplish the work." + +"Then I will go with it myself; my heart is in it. But, Alfred, you look +very ill; you cannot proceed tonight. When did you sleep last?" + +"Three nights ago." + +"Then it would be madness to proceed; you must sleep, and at early dawn +you shall precede us on my own charger--which has been led all the way +--if your own is too wearied, and with an attendant or two in case of +danger from man or beast. Nay, it must be so." + +Alfred, who could scarcely stand for very fatigue, was forced to yield, +and that night he slept soundly in the camp of Edgar. At the first dawn +they aroused him from sleep, and he found a splendid warhorse awaiting +him--a gift, they told him, from Edgar. Two attendants, well mounted, +awaited him in company with Oswy. He would willingly have dispensed with +their company; but he was told that the king, anxious for his safety, +had insisted upon their attending him, and that they were answerable for +his safe return to Aescendune, the country being considered dangerous +for travellers in its present disturbed state. + +So he yielded; and before the king had arisen he left the camp, after a +hasty meal, and rode as rapidly as the roads would permit towards his +desolated home. + + + CHAPTER XXIII. LOVE STRONG AS DEATH. + +Meanwhile Father Swithin had gone alone and unprotected, save by his +sacred character, into the very jaws of the lion; or rather, would have +gone, had he been suffered to do so; for when he approached the hall he +found the drawbridge up, and the whole place guarded as in a state of siege. + +He advanced, nothing daunted, in front of the yawning gap where the +bridge should have been, and cried aloud--"What ho! porter; I demand +speech of my lord Redwald." + +"You may demand speech--swine may demand pearls--but I don't think +you will get it. Deliver me your message." + +"Tell your lord, rude churl, that I, Father Swithin, of the holy Order +of St. Benedict, have come, in the name of the rightful owners of this +house, and in the power of the Church, to demand that he deliver up +Elfric of Aescendune to the safe keeping of his friends." + +"I will send your message; but keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Sir +Monk, and don't begin muttering any of your accursed Latin, or I will +see whether the Benedictine frock is proof against an arrow." + +In a short time Redwald appeared on the roof, above the gateway. + +"What dost thou require, Sir Monk?" said he; "thy words sound strange in +my ears." + +"I am come, false traitor," said Father Swithin, waxing wroth, "to +demand the person of Elfric of Aescendune, whom thou detainest contrary +to God's law and the king's." + +"Elfric of Aescendune! right glad am I to hear that he is alive; my +followers have brought me word that they saw him fall in battle." + +"Nay, spare thy deceit, thou son of perdition, for well do we know that +he was brought home wounded last night. One of his bearers escaped thy +toils, even as a bird the snare of the fowler, and is now with us." + +"Assuredly the loon has lied unto you. Rejoiced should I be to see the +unhappy youth, and to know that he yet lived. I but hold this place, +faithful to his lord and mine, Edwy, King of all England." + +"Then why hast thou expelled the rightful dwellers therein from their +house and home? We know Elfric is with thee, and that thou art a +traitor, wherefore, deliver him up, or we will even excommunicate thee." + +"Thou hadst better not begin in the hearing of the men who sit upon the +wall; for myself, excommunication cannot hurt a man who never goes to +church, and does not company over much with those who do." + +"Infidel! heretic! pagan! misbeliever! accursed Ragnar!" began the irate +monk, when an arrow, perhaps only meant to frighten him (for they could +hardly have missed so fair a mark), glanced by him. + +He retreated, but still continued his maledictions. + +"_Excommunicabo te, et omnes tibi adhaerentes_; thou art an accursed +parricide, who hast raised thine hand against thy father's house. _Vade +retro, Sathanas_, I will shake off the dust of my feet against thee,"-- +another arrow stuck in his frock--"thou shalt share the fate of Sodom, +yea of Gomorrha; _in manus inimici trado te_;" by this time his words +were inaudible; and he departed, not having accomplished much good, but +having nevertheless informed Redwald of two great facts--the first, +that Elfric's return was blazed abroad; the second, that his own +identity was more than suspected. + +"Ragnar!" said he, "What fiend has told them that? how came they to +suspect? Confusion! it will foil all my plans, and my vengeance will be +incomplete. At least this one victim must not escape, and yet I had +sooner he should escape than any other member of the house. Poor boy! +the sins of the fathers are heavy upon the children, as these Christians +have it; but my oath, my oath taken before a dying father! no; he must die!" + +So spake the avenger of blood, a man whose heart was evidently not all +of iron; yet from childhood had he striven to restrain every tender +impulse, and had bound himself to vengeance. Long years of peace in +England had come between him and the execution of his projects, and he +had prepared himself for the task he never lost sight of, by acquiring +all the accomplishments of a knight and warrior, and even of a man of +letters, at that court of Rouen, now rapidly becoming the focus of +European chivalry, where the fierce barbarian Northmen were becoming the +refined but ruthless Normans. Then, in England, he had wormed himself +into the confidence of the future king with singular astuteness, and at +length had found the occasion he had long sought, in a manner the most +unforeseen save as a possible contingency. + +And now he turned from the battlements to his own chamber, but on the +way he paused, for he passed the door of the late thane's room, where +poor Elfric lay. He passed the sentinel and entered. The unhappy boy was +extended on the bed, in a raging fever; ever and anon he called +piteously upon his father, then he cried out that Dunstan was pursuing +him, driving him into the pit, then he cried--"Father, I did not +murder thee; not I, thy son! nay, I always loved thee in my heart. Who +is laughing? it is not Dunstan; break his chamber open, slay him: is a +monk's blood redder than a peasant's? O Elgiva hast thou slain my +father? See, I am all on fire; it is thy doing. Edwy, my king, Dunstan +is burning me: save me!" + +Then there was a long pause, and Redwald or Ragnar as we may now call +him stood over his unhappy cousin. The fair head lay back on the pillow, +with its profusion of golden locks; the face was red and fiery, the eyes +weak and bloodshot. + +"Water! water! I burn!" he said. + +There was no cooling medicine to alleviate the burning throat, no gentle +hand to smooth the pillow, no mother to render the sweet offices of +maternal love, no father to whisper forgiveness to the dying boy. + +"Better he should die thus," said Ragnar, "since I cannot spare him +without breaking my oath to the dead." + +Then he left the room hastily, as if he feared his own resolution. The +sentinel looked imploringly at him, as the cries of the revellers came +from below. + +"Go!" said Ragnar, "join thy companions; no sentinel is required here. +Go and feast; I will come and join you." + +So he tried to drown his new-born pity in wine. + +At a late hour of the day, Alfred and his attendants arrived, bringing +news of the coming succour to Father Cuthbert and the other friends who +awaited him with much anxiety. They had contrived to account for his +absence to the lady Edith, from whom they thought it necessary to hide +the true state of affairs. + +But everything tended to increase Alfred's feverish anxiety about his +brother. The relieving force could not arrive for hours; meanwhile he +knew not what to do. No tidings were heard: Father Swithin had failed +and Elfric might perhaps even now be dead. + +So Alfred, taking counsel only of his own brave, loving heart, left the +priory in the dusk, attended by the faithful Oswy, and walked towards +his former home. The night was dark and cloudy, the moon had not yet +arisen, and they were close upon the hall ere they saw its form looming +though the darkness. Neither spoke, but they paused before the +drawbridge and listened. + +Sounds of uproarious mirth arose from within; Danish war songs, shouting +and cheering; the whole body of the invaders were evidently feasting and +revelling with that excess, of which in their leisure moments they were +so capable. + +"It is well!" said Alfred; and they walked round the exterior of the +moat, marking the brightly lighted hall and the unguarded look of the +place; yet not wholly unguarded, for they saw the figure of a man +outlined against a bright patch of sky, pacing the leaded roof, +evidently on guard. + +And now they had reached that portion of their circuit which led them +opposite the chamber window of the lamented Ella, and Alfred gazed sadly +upon it, when both he and Oswy started as they heard cries and moans, +and sometimes articulate words, proceeding therefrom. + +They listened eagerly, and caught the name "Dunstan," as if uttered in +vehement fear, then the cry. "Water! I burn!" and cry after cry, as if +from one in delirium. + +"It is Elfric! it is Elfric!" said Alfred. + +"It is my young lord's voice," said the thrall; "he is in a fever from +his wound." + +"What can we do?" and Alfred walked impatiently to and fro; at last he +stopped. + +"Oswy! if it costs me my life I will enter the castle!" + +"It shall cost my life too, then. I will live and die with my lord!" + +"Come here, Oswy; they do not know the little postern door hidden behind +those bushes; the passage leads up to the chapel, and to the gallery +leading to my father's chamber, where Elfric lies dying. I remember that +that door was left unlocked, and perhaps I can save him. They are all +feasting like hogs; they will not know, and if Ragnar meet me, why, he +or I must die;" and he put his hand convulsively upon the sword which +was dependent from his girdle. + +"Lead on, my lord; you will find your thrall ready to live or die with +you!" said Oswy. + +At the extreme angle of the building there was a large quantity of holly +bushes which grew out of the soil between the moat and the wall, which +itself was clothed with the thickest ivy; the roof above was slanting-- +an ordinary timber roof covering the chapel--so that no sentinel could +be overhead. Standing on the further side of the moat, all this and no +more could be observed. + +The first difficulty was how to cross the moat in the absence of either +bridge or boat. It was true they might swim over; but in the event of +their succeeding in the rescue of Elfric, how were they to bear him +back? The difficulty had to be overcome, and they reflected a moment. + +"There is a small boat down at the ferry," whispered Oswy. + +It was all Alfred needed, and he and Oswy at once started for the river. +They returned in a few minutes, bearing a light boat, almost like a +British coracle, on which they instantly embarked, and a push or two +with the pole sent them noiselessly across the moat. + +They landed, made fast the boat, and searched in the darkness for the +door; it was an old portal, almost disused, for it was only built that +there might be a retreat in any such pressing emergency as might easily +arise in those unsettled times; the holly bushes in front, and the thick +branches of dependent ivy, concealed its existence from any person +beyond the moat, and it had not even been seen by the watchful eye of +Ragnar. + +Alfred, however, had but recently made use of the door, when seeking +bunches of holly wherewith to deck the board on the occasion of the +feast given to King Edwy, and he had omitted to relock it on his return, +an omission which now seemed to him of providential arrangement. + +He had, therefore, only to turn the rusty latch as noiselessly as might +be, and the door slowly opened. The key was in the lock, on the inside. + +Entering cautiously, taking off their heavy shoes and leaving them in +the doorway, they ascended a flight of steps which terminated in front +of a door which entered the chapel underneath the bell cot, while +another flight led upwards to the gallery, from which all the principal +chambers on the first floor opened. + +Arriving at this upper floor, Alfred listened intently for one moment, +and hearing only the sounds of revelry from beneath, he opened the door +gently, and saw the passage lie vacant before him. + +He passed along it until he came to the door of his father's chamber, +feeling the whole time that his life hung on a mere thread, upon the +chance that Ragnar and his warriors might remain out of the way, and +that no one might be near to raise the alarm. With nearly two hundred +inmates this was but a poor chance, but Alfred could dare all for his +brother. He committed himself, therefore, to God's protection, and went +firmly on till he reached the door. + +He opened it with trembling eagerness, and the whole scene as we have +already described it was before him. Elfric sat up in the bed, uttering +the cries which had pierced the outer air. When Alfred entered he did +not seem to know him, but saluted him as "Dunstan." His cries had become +too familiar to the present inmates of the hall for this to attract +attention. Alfred closed the door. + +"It is I, Elfric!--I, your brother Alfred!" + +Elfric stared vacantly, then fell back on the pillow: a moment only +passed, and then it was evident that an interval of silence had begun, +during which the patient only moaned. The noise from those who were +feasting in the hall beneath, which communicated with the gallery by a +large staircase, was loud and boisterous as ever. + +A step was heard approaching. + +Alfred took Oswy by the arm, and they both retired behind the tapestry, +which concealed a small recess, where garments were usually suspended. + +The heavy step entered the room, and its owner was evidently standing +beside the bed gazing upon the couch. There he remained stationary for +some minutes, and again left the room. It was not till the last sound +had died away that Alfred and Oswy ventured to leave their concealment. + +The silence still continued, save that it was sometimes broken by the +patient's moans. + +"Take and wrap these clothes round him; we must preserve him from the +night air;" and they wrapped the blankets around him; then Oswy, who was +very strongly built, took the light frame of Elfric in his arms, and +they left the room. + +One moment of dread suspense--the passage was clear--a minute more +would have placed them in safety, when the paroxysm returned upon the +unfortunate Elfric. + +"Help, Edwy! Redwald, help! Dunstan has seized me, and is bearing me to +the fire! I burn! help, I burn!" + +Alfred groaned in his agony; the shrieking voice had been uttered just +as they passed the staircase leading down to the hall. Up rushed Ragnar, +followed by several of his men, and started back in amazement as he +beheld Alfred and Oswy with their burden. Alfred drew his sword to +dispute the passage, but was overpowered in a moment. Ragnar himself +attacked Oswy, who was forced to relinquish his burden. All was lost. + +Another moment and Ragnar confronted his prisoners. Elfric had been +carried back to his bed. Alfred and Oswy stood before him, their arms +bound behind them, in the great hall, while the soldiers retired at a +signal a short distance from them. + +"What has brought you here?" + +"To deliver my brother." + +"To share his fate, you mean. Know you into whose hands you have fallen?" + +"Yes; into those of my cousin Ragnar." + +"Then you know what mercy to expect." + +"I came prepared to share my brother's fate." + +"And you shall share it. It must be the hand of fate which has placed +you both in my power, me, the representative of the rightful lord of +Aescendune, dispossessed by your father, and being myself the legitimate +heir." + +"We do not dispute your title; give my brother his life and liberty, and +take all; we have never injured you." + +"All would be nothing without vengeance; you appeal in vain to me. Did I +wish to spare you I could not; an oath, a fearful oath, binds me, taken +to one from whom I derived life, one whose death was far more agonising +and lingering than yours shall be." + +"Let us at least die together." + +"Do you scorn the company of your thrall in death?" + +"God forbid! + +"Oswy, you have given your life for us; we die in company. God protect +my poor mother, my poor childless mother! She will be alone!" + +"You shall die together as you desire." + +He addressed a few words in an unknown tongue to his men; his face was +now pale as death, his lips compressed as of one who has taken a +desperate resolution. + +"Retire to your brother's chamber again. You will not compel me to use +force?" + +They retired up the stairs; Ragnar followed, two or three of his men at +a respectful distance from him. + +They re-entered the chamber; Ragnar followed and stood before them. + +"I will grant you all that is in my power; you shall all die together, +and you may tend your brother to the last." + +"What shall be the manner of our death?" asked Alfred, who was very +calm, fearfully calm. + +"You will soon discover; my hand shall not be upon you, or red with your +blood. Believe me, I am, like you, the victim of stern necessity, +although I am the avenger, you the victims." + +"You cannot thus deceive yourself, or shake off the guilt of murder; our +father's blood is upon you. You will answer for this, for him and for +us, at the judgment seat." + +"I am willing to do so, if there be a judgment seat whereat to answer. I +had a father, too, who was condemned to a lingering death, by thirst, +hunger, and madness; I witnessed his agonies; I swore to avenge them. +You appeal to the memory of your father, who has perished a victim to +avenging justice; I appeal to that of mine. If there be a God, let Him +deliver you, and perhaps I will believe in Him. Farewell for ever!" + +He closed the door, and, with the aid of his men, securely fastened it +on the outside, so that no strength from within could open it; he +descended to the hall. + +"Warriors," he said, "the moment I predicted has come; I have received a +warning that the usurper Edgar already marches against us; tomorrow, at +the latest, he will be here; before he arrives we shall be halfway to +Wessex. Let every one secure his baggage and his plunder, and let the +horses be all got ready for a forced march. We have eaten the last feast +that shall ever be eaten in these halls." + +A few moments of bustle and confusion followed, and before half-an-hour +had expired all was ready, and the men-at-arms from without announced +that every horse--their own and those of the thane, to carry their +booty, the plunder of the castle--awaited them without. + +"Then," said he, "listen, my men, to the final orders. _Fire the castle, +every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, the outbuildings._ We +will leave a pile of blackened embers for Edgar when he comes; the halls +where the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be his, or entertain him +as a guest." + +A loud shout signified the alacrity with which his followers bent +themselves to the task; torches flashed in all directions, and in a few +moments the flames began to do their destroying work. + +An officer addressed Ragnar--"There are three thralls locked up in an +outbuilding, shall we leave them to burn?" + +"Nay; why should we grudge them their miserable lives; they have done us +no harm." + +At that moment a loud cry of dire alarm was heard, the trampling of an +immense body of horse followed--a rush into the hall already filled +with smoke--loud outcries and shrieks from without. + +"What is the matter?" cried Ragnar. + +"The Mercians are upon us! the Mercians are upon us!" + +Ragnar rushed to the gateway, and a sight met his startled eyes he was +little prepared to behold. + +The clouds had been driven away by a fierce wind, the moon was shining +brightly, and revealed a mighty host surrounding the hall on every side. +Every horse before the gateway was driven away or seized, every man who +had not saved himself by instant retreat had been slain by the advancing +host; without orders the majority of his men had repassed the moat, and +had already raised the drawbridge against the foe, not without the +greatest difficulty. + +"Extinguish the fires which you have raised; let each man fight fire-- +then we will fight the Mercians." + +It was high time to fight fire, rather it was too late. + + + CHAPTER XXIII. "VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY." + +When the door was finally closed upon the brothers and their faithful +thrall, Alfred did not give way to despair. The words of Ragnar, "If +there be a God, let Him deliver you," had sunk deeply into his heart, +and had produced precisely the opposite effect to that which his cousin +had intended; it seemed as if his cause were thus committed to the great +Being in Whose Hand was the disposal of all things; as if His Honour +were at stake, Whom the murderer had so impiously defied. + +"'If there be a God, let Him deliver you,'" repeated Alfred, and it +seemed to him as if a Voice replied, "Is My Arm shortened, that It +cannot save?" + +But how salvation was to come, and even in what mode danger was to be +expected, was unknown to them; nay, was even unguessed. They heard the +bustle below, which followed Ragnar's announcement of his intended +departure from Aescendune. They heard the mustering of the horses--and +at last the conviction forced itself upon them that the foe were about +to evacuate the hall. But in that case, how would he inflict his +sentence upon his victims? + +The dread truth, the suspicion of his real intention, crept upon the +minds of both Alfred and Oswy. Elfric yet lay insensible, or seemingly +so, upon the bed, lost to all perception of his danger. Alfred sat at +the head of the bed, looking with brotherly love at the prostrate form +of him for whom he was giving his life; but feeling secretly grateful +that there was no painful struggle imminent in his case; that death +itself would come unperceived, without torturing forebodings. + +It was at this moment that Oswy, who stood by the window, which was +strongly barred, but which he had opened, for the night was oppressively +warm, caught the faint and distant sound of a mighty host advancing +through the forest; at first it was very faint, and he only heard it +through the pauses in the storm of sound which attended Ragnar's +preparations for departure, but it soon became more distinct, and he +turned to Alfred. + +"Listen, my lord, they come to our aid; listen, I hear the army of Edgar." + +Alfred rushed to the window, the hope of life strong within him; at +first he could hear nothing for the noise below, but at length there was +a lull in the confusion, and then he heard distinctly the sound of the +coming deliverers. Another minute, and he saw the dark lines leaving the +shadow of the forest, and descending the hill in serried array, then +deploying, as if to surround a foe in stealthy silence; he looked around +for the object, and beheld Ragnar's forces all unconscious of their +danger, not having heard the approach in their own hasty preparations +for departure. Another moment of dread suspense, like that with which +the gazer watches the dark thundercloud before the lightning's flash. A +moment of dread silence--during which some orders, given loudly below, +forced themselves upon him: + +"Fire the castle, every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, the +outbuildings; we will leave a pile of blackened ruins for Edgar when he +comes; the halls where the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be his, +or entertain him as guest." + +Meanwhile, the dark forces, unseen by the destroyers, were still +surrounding the castle, deploying on all sides to surround it as in a +net; for they saw the intention of their victims, and meant to cut off +all chance of escape. + +But the position of the brothers seemed as perilous as ever--for how +could Edgar's troops rescue them if the place were once on fire? Alfred +gazed with pallid face upon Oswy, but met only a resigned helpless +glance in return. + +Yet, even at this moment of awful suspense, a voice seemed to whisper in +his ear, "Stand still, and see the salvation of God." + +"Oswy," he exclaimed, "we shall not die--I feel sure that God will +save us!" + +"It must be soon then," replied Oswy; "soon, my lord, for they have +already set the place on fire, just beneath us; can you not smell the +smoke?" + +Just at that moment came the war cry of the Mercians, and the charge we +have already described. + +It was during the following few minutes, while Ragnar and all his men +were vainly striving to extinguish the conflagration they had raised-- +for the dry timber of which the hall was chiefly built had taken fire +like matchwood--it was while the friends without were preparing to +attack, that a sudden change came over the patient. + +"Alfred, my brother!" + +Alfred looked round in surprise; consciousness had returned, and the +face was calm and possessed as his own. + +"Elfric, my dear Elfric!" + +"What does all this mean? How came I here? What makes this smoke?" + +"We are in danger, great danger; prisoners in our own house, which they +have set on fire." + +"I remember now--is not this our dear father's room?" + +"Yes; we are prisoners in it, they have barred the door upon us." + +"But they cannot bar us in: there is another door, Alfred; one my father +once pointed out to me, but told me to keep its existence a secret, as +it always had been kept. Who are without?" + +"The Mercians, Edgar's army, come to deliver us; if we can reach them, +we are safe." + +"I thought they were our foes, but all seems strange now. Alfred, lift +up the tapestry which conceals the recess where dear father's armour hung." + +Alfred complied. + +"Now, just where the breastplate hung you will find a round knob of wood +like a peg." + +"Yes, it is here." + +"Push it hard--no, harder." + +Alfred did so, and a concealed door flew open; he stepped through it +with a cry of joy, and found himself on the staircase leading up from +the postern gate by which he had entered, just below the closed door +which led into the gallery above. + +"God be thanked! we are saved--saved. Elfric! + +"Oswy, take him in your arms, quick! quick! I lead the way, and will get +the boat ready--door open and boat ready." + +It was all the work of a moment; they were on the private staircase, +carrying Elfric, carefully wrapt up. The smoke had entered even here; +the next moment they were at the entrance. Happily the whole attention +of Ragnar was concentrated on self preservation. + +One more minute, and Elfric was placed in the coracle. The Mercians on +the further bank now observed them, and at first, not knowing them, +seemed disposed to treat them as foes; when Oswy cried aloud, "Spare +your arrows; it is Elfric of Aescendune;" and they crowded to the bank +joyfully, for the purpose of the attack was known to all, and now they +saw its object placed beyond the reach of further risk of failure. + +The coracle touched the further bank; a dozen willing hands assisted +them up the slope. And amidst shouts of vociferous joy and triumph they +were conducted to King Edgar, who hastened towards the scene with Siward. + +"Now, let the castle burn, let it burn," said Oswy. + +"Alfred, is it you?" exclaimed the young king; "just escaped from the +flames! How came you there? and this is Elfric; you have saved him." + +"God has delivered us." + +"But you have been the instrument; you must tell me all another time, +get him into shelter quickly. + +"Here, men, bear him to the priory, while we stay to do our duty here. + +"Alfred, you must not linger." + +"One favour, my lord and king; show mercy to Ragnar, to Redwald, you +know not how sad his story has been." + +"Leave that to me; he shall have all he deserves;" and Alfred was forced +to be content. + +At this moment, aroused by the shouts of joy, Ragnar, forgetting even +his danger, rushed to the roof. There he saw a crowd surrounding some +object of their joy; in the darkness of the night he could not +distinguish more, but the cry, "Long live Alfred of Aescendune!" arose +spontaneously from the crowd, just as the brothers departed. Faint with +toil as he was, his heart beating wildly with apprehension, he rushed to +the chamber through smoke and flame, for the tongues of fire were +already licking the staircase. He withdrew the bars, he rushed in, the +room was empty. + +"It is magic, sorcery, witchcraft," he groaned. + +But the remembrance of his last words, of his scornful defiance of God, +came back to him, and with it a conviction that he had indeed lifted up +his arm against the Holy One. He felt a sickening feeling of horror and +despair rush upon him, when loud cries calling him from beneath aroused him. + +"We must charge through them; we cannot burn here; we must die fighting +sword in hand, it is all that is left." + +Not one voice spoke of surrender amongst those fierce warriors, or of +seeking mercy. + +It was indeed high time, for all efforts to extinguish the flames had +proved vain; every part of the castle was on fire; the fiery element +streamed from the lower windows, and curled upwards around the towers; +it crackled and hissed in its fury, and the atmosphere became unfit to +breathe; it was like inhaling flame. Sparks flew about in all +directions, dense stifling smoke filled every room. Not a man remained +in the hall, when Redwald rushed down the gallery, holding his breath, +for the hot air scorched the lungs; when, just as he arrived, the +staircase fell with a huge crash, and the flames shot up in his face, +igniting hair and beard, and scorching his flesh. He rushed back to the +opposite end of the passage, only to meet another blast of fire and +smoke--for they had ignited the hall in twenty places at once; they +had done their work all too well. He rushed to the room he had left, +shut the door for a moment's respite from flame and smoke, and then, +springing at the window, strove to tear the bars down, but all in vain. + +"There must be some egress. How did they escape? How could they escape?" +he cried; and he sought in vain for the exit, for they had closed the +door again, and he knew not where to look; in vain he lifted the +tapestry, he could not discover the secret; and at last, overpowered by +the heat, he sprang again to the window, and drank in deep draughts of +fresh cool air to appease the burning feeling in his throat. + +Crash! crash! part of the roof had given way, and the whole chamber +trembled; then a single tongue of flame shot up through the floor, then +another; the door had caught outside. Even in that moment he beheld his +men, his faithful followers, madly seeking death from the swords of the +foe; they had lowered the drawbridge, and dashed out without a leader. + +"Would I were with them!" he cried. "Oh, to die like this!" + +"Behold," cried a voice without, "he hath digged and graven a pit, and +is fallen himself into the destruction he made for others." + +It was Father Swithin, who had observed the face at the window, and who +raised the cry which now drew all the enemy to gaze upon him, for they +had no longer a foe to destroy. + +The flames now filled the room, but still he clung to the window, and +thus protracted his torments; his foes, even the stern monk, could but +pity him now, so marred and blackened was his visage, so agonised his +lineaments; like, as they said, the rude pictures of the lost, where the +last judgment was painted on the walls of the churches. Yet he uttered +no cry, he had resolved to die bravely; all was lost now. Another +moment, and those who watched saw the huge beams which supported the +building bend and quiver; then the whole framework collapsed, and with a +sound like thunder the roof tumbled in, and the unhappy Ragnar was +buried in the ruin; while the flames from his funeral pyre rose to the +very heavens, and the smoke blotted the stars from view. + +"Even so," said the monk, solemnly, "let Thine enemies perish, O Lord, +but let them that love Thee be as the sun, when he goeth forth in his +might." + +But those were not wanting who could not sympathise with the stern +sentiment, remembering better and gentler lessons from the lips of the +great Teacher and Master of souls. + +"He has passed into the Hands of his God, there let us leave him," said +Father Cuthbert, who had just arrived at the moment. "It is not for us +to judge a soul which has passed to the judgment seat, and is beyond the +sentence of men." + +Meanwhile, they had borne Elfric first to the priory, for they judged it +not well that he should yet be brought to his mother; they feared the +sudden shock. Many of the good monks had studied medicine, for they were +in fact the healers both of soul and body throughout the district, and +they attended him with assiduous care. They put him to bed, they gave +him cordials which soon produced quiet sleep, and watched by him for +many hours. + +It was not till the day had far advanced that he awoke, greatly +refreshed, and saw Father Cuthbert and Alfred standing by him. They had +allayed the fever, bound up the wound, which was not in itself +dangerous, and he looked more like himself than one could have imagined +possible. + +And now they thought they might venture to summon the lady Edith; and +Alfred broke the intelligence to her, for she knew not the events of the +night. + +"Mother," he said; "we have news of Elfric, both bad and good, to tell you." + +"He lives then," she said; "he lives!" + +"Yes, lives, and is near; but he was wounded badly in the battle." + +"I must go to him," she said, and arose, forgetting all possible +obstacles in a mother's love. + +"He is near at hand, in the priory; you will find him much changed, but +they say he will do well." + +She shook like an aspen leaf, and threw her garments around her with +nervous earnestness. + +"Come, mother, take my arm." + +"O Alfred, may I not come, too?" said little Edgitha. + +"Yes, you may come too;" and they left the house. + +Elfric heard them approach, and sat up in his bed, Father Cuthbert +supporting him with his arm; while another visitor, Edgar himself, stood +at the head of the bed, but retired to give place to the mother, as if +he felt no stranger could then intrude, when the widow clasped her +prodigal to her loving breast. + + + CHAPTER XXIV. SOW THE WIND, AND REAP THE WHIRLWIND. + +When Alfred rebuilt the city of Winchester, after it had been burned by +the Danes, he erected a royal palace, which became a favourite retreat +of his successors. + +Here the unhappy Edwy retired after his defeat, to find consolation in +the company of Elgiva. Indeed he needed it. Northumbria had followed the +example of Mercia, and acknowledged Edgar, and he had no dominions left +north of the Thames, while it was rumoured that worse news might follow. + +In an inner chamber of the palace, and remote from intrusion, sat the +king and his chosen advisers. It was early in the year 958, a spring day +when the sun shone brightly and all things spoke of the coming summer-- +the songs of the birds, the opening buds, the blossoming orchards. + +But peace was banished from those who sat in that council chamber. Edwy +was strangely disturbed, his face was flushed, and he bore evidence of +the most violent agitation. + +"It must come to that at last, my king," exclaimed Cynewulf, "or Wessex +will follow the example of Mercia." + +"Better lose my crown then and become a subject, with a subject's +liberty to love." + +"A subject could never marry within the prohibited degree," said a +grey-headed counsellor. + +"We have messengers from all parts of Wessex, from Kent, from Essex, +from Sussex, and they all unite in their demand that you should submit +to the Church, and put away (forgive me for repeating their words) your +concubine." + +"Concubine!" said Edwy, and his cheek flushed, "she is my wife and your +queen." + +"Pardon me, my liege, I did not make the word my own." + +"You should not have dared to repeat it." + +"If I dare, my lord, it is for your sake, and for our country, which is +dear to us all. Not an Englishman will acknowledge that your connection +is lawful; from Exeter to Canterbury the cry is the same--'Let him +renounce Elgiva, and we will obey him; but we will not serve a king who +does not obey the voice of the Church or the laws of the land.'" + +"Laws of the land! The king is above the laws." + +"Nay, my lord, he is bound to set the first example of obedience, chief +in that as in all things; an example to his people. Remember, my lord, +your coronation oath taken at Kingston three years ago." + +Edwy flushed. "Is this a subject's language?" + +"It is the language of one who loves his king too well to flatter him." + +At this moment an usher of the court knocked at the door, and obtaining +permission to enter, stated that Archbishop Odo had arrived, and +demanded admission to the council. + +"I will not see him," said the king. + +"My liege," exclaimed Athelwold, the old grey-headed counsellor we have +mentioned, "permit one who loves you, as he loved your revered father, +to entreat you to cease from this hopeless resistance. If you refuse to +see him you are no longer a king." + +"Then I will gladly abdicate." + +"And become the scorn of Dunstan, and receive a retiring pension from +Edgar, and put your hand between his, kneeling humbly and saying 'I am +your man.'" + +"No, no. Anything rather than that. Death first." + +"All this may be averted with timely submission. Elgiva herself would +not counsel you to sacrifice all for her." + +"O Athelwold. my father, the only one of my father's counsellors who has +been faithful to his firstborn, what can I do? She is dearer to me than +life." + +"But not than honour. You have both erred, both disobeyed the law of the +Church, both forgotten the example due from those in high places." + +"Tell Odo to enter," exclaimed Edwy. + +The archbishop was close at hand, patiently awaiting the answer to his +demand, yet determined, in case of a refusal, to take his pastoral staff +in his hand and enter the council room, announced or not. A more +determined priest had never occupied the primacy, yet he was benevolent +as determined, and, as we have mentioned, was known as Odo the Good +amongst the poor. Stern and unyielding to the vices of the rich, he was +gentle as a parent to the repentant sinner. + +He had pronounced, as we have seen, the lesser excommunication,[xxxi] +in consequence of Edwy's refusal to put away Elgiva, immediately after +the coronation; since which the guilty pair had never communicated at +the altar, or even attended mass. Their lives had been practically +irreligious, nay idolatrous, for they had been gods to each other. + +And now, in the full pomp of the archiepiscopal attire, with the mitre +of St. Augustine on his head and the crozier in his hand, Odo advanced, +like one who felt his divine mission, to the centre of the room. His +cross bearer and other attendants remained in the antechamber. + +"What dost thou seek, rude priest?" said Edwy. + +"I am come in the Name of Him Whose laws thou hast broken, and speak to +thee as the Baptist to Herod. Put away this woman, for it is not lawful +for thee to have her." + +"And would I could reply to thee as the holy fox Dunstan once informed +me Herod replied to the insolent Baptist, and send thine head on a +charger to Elgiva." + +"My lord! my liege! my king! Remember his sacred office," remonstrated +the counsellors. + +"Peace, my lords. His threats or his blandishments would alike fail to +move me. The blood of Englishmen slain in civil war--if indeed any are +found to fight for an excommunicate king--is that which I seek to avert. + +"In the Name of my Master, Whom thou hast defied, O king, I offer thee +thy choice. Thou must put away thy concubine, or thou shalt sustain the +greater excommunication, when it will become unlawful for Christian +people even to speak with thee, or wish thee God speed, lest they be +partakers of thy evil deeds." + +"My lord, you must yield," whispered Cynewulf. + +"Son of the noble Edmund, thou must save thy father's name from disgrace." + +"I cannot, will not, do Elgiva this foul wrong. I tell thee, priest, +that if thy benediction has never been pronounced upon our union, we are +man and wife before heaven." + +"I await your answer," said Odo. "Am I to understand you choose the +fearful penalty of excommunication?" + +"Nay! nay! he does not; he cannot," cried the counsellors. "Your +holiness!--father!--in the king's name we yield!" + +"You are all cowards and traitors! Let him do what he will, I cannot yield." + +"Then, my lord king, I must proceed," said Odo. "You have not only acted +wickedly in this matter, but you have misgoverned the people committed +to your charge, and broken every clause of your coronation oath. First, +you have not given the Church of God peace, or preserved her from +molestation, but have yourself ravaged her lands, and even slain her +servants with the sword; one, specially honoured of God, you sought to +slay, sending that wicked man, who has been called by fire to his +judgment, to execute your impious will." + +"That holy fox Dunstan! Would Redwald had slain him!" muttered Edwy. + +"Secondly," continued Odo, not heeding the interruption, "so far from +preventing thefts and fraud in all manner of men, you have maintained +notorious oppressors amongst your officers, and in your own person you +have broken the oath; for did you not even rob your aged grandmother, +and consume her substance in riotous living?" + +"What could the old woman do with it all?" + +"Thirdly, you have not maintained justice in your judicial proceedings, +but have spent all your time, like Rehoboam of old, with the young and +giddy, and in chastising your people with scorpions." + +"Would I had a scorpion to chastise you! This is unbearable. + +"My lords and counsellors, have you not a word to say for me?" + +"Alas!" said Athelwold, "it is all too true; but give up Elgiva now, and +all will be well!" + +"It will be at least the beginning of reformation," said Odo. + +"And the end, I suppose," said Edwy, "will be that I shall shave my head +like a monk, banquet sumptuously upon herbs and water, spend +three-fourths of the day singing psalms through my nose, wear a hair +shirt, look as starved as a weasel, and at last, after sundry combats +with the devil, pinch his nose, and go off to heaven in all the odour of +sanctity. Go and preach all this to Edgar; I am not fool enough to +listen to it. You have got him to be your obedient slave and vassal; you +have bought him, body and soul, and the price has been Mercia, and now +you want to add Wessex. Well, I wish you joy of him, and him of you all; +for my part, if I could do it, I would restore the worship of Odin and +Thor, and offer you priests as bloody sacrifices to him: I would!" + +"Peace, my lord and king! peace! this is horrible." said Athelwold. + +"Horrible!" said another. "He is possessed. My lord Odo, you had better +exorcise him." + +But Edwy had given way--he was young--and burst into a passionate +fit of weeping, his royal dignity all forgotten. + +"Give him time! give him time, father!" said they all. + +"One day; he must then submit, or I must do my duty; I have no choice-- +none," replied the archbishop. + +And the council sadly broke up; but Athelwold sought a private interview +with Elgiva. + +It was the evening of the same day, and the fair Elgiva sat alone in her +apartment, into which the westering sun was casting his last beams of +liquid light; tears had stained her cheeks and reddened her eyes, but +she looked beautiful as ever, like the poet's or painter's conception of +the goddess of love. Around her were numerous evidences of a woman's +delicate tastes, of tastes too in advance of her day. The harp, which +Edwy had given her the day of their inauspicious union, stood in one +corner of the apartment; richly ornamented manuscripts lay scattered +about--not, as usual, legends of the saints, and breviaries, but the +writings of the heathen poets, especially those who sang most of love: +for she was learned in such lore. + +At last the well-known step was heard approaching, and her heart beat +violently. Edwy entered, his face bearing the traces of his mental +struggle; he threw himself down upon a couch, and did not speak for some +few moments. She arose and stood beside him. + +"Edwy, my lord, you are ill at ease." + +"I am indeed, Elgiva; oh! if you knew what I have had to endure this day!" + +"I know it all, my Edwy; you cannot sacrifice your Elgiva, but she can +sacrifice herself." + +"Elgiva! what do you mean?" + +"You have to choose between your country and your wife; she has made the +choice for you." + +Here she strove violently to repress her emotion. + +"Elgiva! you shall never go--never, never--it will break my heart." + +"It will break mine; but better hearts should break than that civil war +should desolate our country, or that you should be dethroned." + +"No more of this, Elgiva; you shall not go, I swear it! come weal or +woe. Are we not man and wife? Have we not ever been faithful to each other?" + +"But this dreadful Church, my Edwy, which crushes men's affections and +rules their intellects with a giant's strength more fearful than the +fabled hammer of Thor. It crushed the sweet mythology of old, with all +that ministered to love, and substituted the shaveling, the nun, the +monk; it has no sympathy with poor hearts like ours; it is remorseless, +as though it never knew pity or fear. You must yield, my Edwy! we must +yield!" + +"I cannot," he said; "we will fly the throne together." + +"But where would you go? this Church is everywhere; who would receive an +excommunicate man?" + +"I cannot help it, Elgiva; say no more, it maddens me. Talk of our early +days, before this dark shadow fell upon us." + +She took up her harp, as if, like David, she could thereby soothe the +perturbed spirit; but its sweet sounds woke no answer in his breast, and +so the night came upon them--night upon the earth, night upon their souls. + +Early in the morning she rose, strong in a woman's affection, while Edwy +yet slept, and hastily arrayed herself; she looked around at her poor +household gods, at the harp, at the many tokens of his love. + +"It is for him!" she said. She imprinted her last kiss on his sleeping +forehead, she gazed upon him with fond, fond love; love had been her +all, her heaven: and then she opened the door noiselessly. + +Athelwold waited without. + +"Well done, noble girl!" he said; "thou keepest thy word right faithfully." + +She strove to speak, but could not; her pale bloodless lips would not +frame the words. Silently they descended the stairs; the dawn reddened +the sky; a horse with a lady's equipments waited without, and a guide. + +The old thane slipped a purse of gold into her hands. + +"You will need it," he said. "Where are you going? you have not told us." + +"It is better none should know," she said; "I will decide my route when +without the city." + +They never heard of her again.[xxxii] + +When Edwy awoke and found her gone he was at first frantic, and sent +messengers in all directions to bring her back; but when one after +another came back unsuccessful, he accepted the heroic sacrifice and +submitted. + +Wessex, therefore, remained faithful to him, at least for a time, but +Mercia was utterly lost; and Edgar was recognised as the lawful king +north of the Thames, by all parties; friends and foes, even by Edwy himself. + + + CHAPTER XXV. "FOR EVER WITH THE LORD." + +Many months had passed away since the destruction of the hall of +Aescendune and the death of the unhappy Ragnar, and the spring of 958 +had well-nigh ended. During the interval, a long and hard winter had +grievously tried the shattered constitution of Elfric. He had recovered +from the fever and the effects of his wound in a few weeks, yet only +partially recovered, for the severe shock had permanently injured his +once strong health, and ominous symptoms showed themselves early in the +winter. His breathing became oppressed, he complained of pains in the +chest, and seemed to suffer after any exertion. + +These symptoms continued to increase in gravity, until his friends were +reluctantly compelled to recognise the symptoms of that insidious +disease, so often fatal in our English climate, which we now call +consumption. + +It was long before they would admit as much; but when they saw how +acutely he suffered in the cold frosts; how he, who had once been +foremost in every manly exercise, was compelled to forego the hunt, and +to allow his brother to traverse the woods and enjoy the pleasures of +the chase without him; how he sought the fireside and shivered at the +least draught; how a dry painful cough continually shook his frame, they +could no longer disguise the fact that his days on earth might be very +soon ended. + +There was one fact which astonished them. Although he had returned with +avidity to all the devotional habits in which he had been trained, yet +he always expressed himself unfit to receive the Holy Communion, and +delayed to make that formal confession of his sins, which the religious +habits of the age imposed on every penitent. + +Once or twice his fond mother, anxious for his spiritual welfare, +pressed this duty upon him; and Alfred, whom he loved, as well he might, +most dearly, urged the same thing, yet he always evaded the subject, or, +when pressed, replied that he fully meant to do so; in short, it was a +matter of daily preparation, but he could not come to be shriven yet. + +When the winter at last yielded, and the bright spring sun spoke of the +resurrection, when Lent was over, they hoped at least to see him make +his Easter communion, and their evident anxiety upon the subject at last +brought from him the avowal of the motives which actuated his conduct. + +It was Easter Eve, and Alfred had enticed him out to enjoy the balmy air +of a bright April afternoon. Close by the path they took, the hall was +rapidly rising to more than its former beauty, for not only had the +theows and ceorls all shown great alacrity in the work, but all the +neighbouring thanes had lent their aid. + +"It will be more beautiful than ever," said Alfred, "but not quite so +homelike. Still, when you come of age, Elfric, it will be a happy home +for you." + +"It will never be my home, Alfred." + +"You must not speak so despondently. The bright springtide will soon +restore all your former health and vigour." + +"No, Alfred, no; the only home I look for is one where my poor shattered +frame will indeed recover its vigour, but it will not be the vigour or +beauty of this world. Do you remember the lines Father Cuthbert taught +us the other night? + +"'Oh, how glorious and resplendent, +Fragile body, shalt thou be, +When endued with so much beauty, +Full of health, and strong and free, +Full of vigour, full of pleasure. +That shall last eternally.' + +"It will not be of earth, though, my brother." + +Alfred was silent; his emotions threatened to overcome him. He could not +bear to think that he should lose Elfric, although the conviction was +gradually forcing itself upon them all. + +"Alfred," continued the patient, "it is of no use deceiving ourselves. I +have often thought it hard to leave this beautiful world, for it is +beautiful after all, and to leave you who have almost given your life +for me, and dear mother, little Edgitha, and Father Cuthbert; but God's +Will must be done, and what He wills must be best for us. No; this +bright Easter tide is the last I shall see on earth; but did not Father +Cuthbert say that heaven is an eternal Easter?" + +So the repentant prodigal spoke, according to the lessons the Church had +taught him. Superstitious in many points that Church of our forefathers +may have been, yet how much living faith had its home therein will never +be fully known till the judgment. + +"And when I look at that castle," Elfric continued, "our own hall of +Aescendune, rising from its ashes, I picture to myself how you will +marry some day and be happy there; how our dear mother will see your +children growing up around her knee, and teach them as she taught you +and me; how, perhaps, you will name one after me, and there shall be +another Elfric, gay and happy as the old one, but, I hope, ten times as +good; and you will not let him go to court, I am sure, Alfred." + +Alfred did not answer; he could not command his composure. + +"And when you all come to the priory church on Sundays, and Father +Cuthbert, or whoever shall come after him, sings the mass, you will +remember me and breathe my name in your prayers when they say the +memento for the faithful dead; and again, there shall be little children +learning their paters and their sweet little prayers, as you and I +learned them at our mother's knee: and you will show them my tomb, where +I shall rest with dear father, and perhaps my story may be a warning to +them. But you must never forget to show them how brotherly love was +stronger than death when the old hall was burnt. + +"After all," he continued, "our separation won't be long, the longest +day comes to an end, and a thousand years are with Him as one day. We +shall all be united at last--father, mother, Alfred, Edgitha, Elfric. +Do you not hear the Easter bells?" + +They retraced their steps to the priory church for the services of +Easter Eve. + +"And one thing more, dear Alfred; you think me a strange penitent, that +I am long, very long, before I make my confession. You do not know how I +sigh for Communion; it is three years since I communicated, nearly four. +But, Alfred, there is one who tried to stop me when I began going +downward, downward, and I feel as if I must have his forgiveness before +I can communicate, and it is to him I want to make my last confession. +You know whom I mean; he is in England now and near." + +"I do indeed." + +"Now you know my secret, let us go into church." + +Oh, how sweetly those Easter psalms and lessons spoke to Alfred and +Elfric that night; how sweetly the tidings of a risen Saviour sounded in +their ears. Easter joy was joy indeed. The very heavens seemed brighter +that night, the moon--the Paschal moon--seemed to gladden the earth +and render it a Paradise, like that happy Eden of old times, before sin +entered its holy seclusion. + +Easter tide was over, and Ascension drew near, but the sweet month of +May had done little to restore health to poor Elfric. He had scarcely +ever had a day free from pain. His eye was brighter than ever, but his +attenuated face told a sad tale of the decay of the vital power. + +From the time that Alfred knew how his brother yearned for Dunstan's +forgiveness, and that he would be shriven by none but him, he had sought +to accomplish his wish. He heard that Dunstan had returned from abroad, +and was about to be consecrated Bishop of Worcester, and to be their own +diocesan, and he sought an early opportunity of seeing him. + +At last, but not until after Dunstan's consecration, he gained the +opportunity, not without much delay; for Dunstan was sometimes in +Worcester, sometimes in London, which had thrown off Edwy's authority, +and submitted, with all Essex, to Edgar; sometimes ordaining, sometimes +confirming, sometimes assisting Edgar in the government; and he was, +like all other great men, very inaccessible. + +At last Alfred learned that he would be in Worcester by a certain day, +and he started at once for that city. He arrived there after a tedious +journey; the roads were very difficult, and when he reached the city he +heard the cathedral bells, and went at once to the high mass, for it was +a festival. There he saw Dunstan as he had seen him before at +Glastonbury, at the altar, amidst all the solemn pomp in which our +ancestors robed the sacred office. + +Immediately after the service he repaired to the palace, and put in his +name. Numbers, like himself, were awaiting an audience, but only a few +minutes had passed ere an usher came into the antechamber and informed +him that Dunstan requested his immediate presence. + +He followed the usher amidst the envy of many who had the prospect of a +long detention ere they could obtain the same favour, and soon he had +clasped Dunstan's hand and knelt for his blessing. + +"Nay! rise up, my son, it is thine: _Deus benedicat et custodiat te, in +omnibus viis tuis_. Thinkest thou, my son, thy name has been forgotten +in my poor prayers? God made thee His instrument, but thou wast a very +very willing one; and now, my son, wherein can I serve thee? Thou hast +but to speak." + +Thus encouraged, Alfred told all his tale, and Dunstan listened with +much emotion. + +"Yet two days and I will be with you at Aescendune. Go back and comfort +thy brother; he shall indeed have my forgiveness, and happy shall I be +as an ambassador of Christ to fulfil the blessed office of restoring the +lost sheep to the fold, the prodigal to his Heavenly Father." + +When Alfred returned to Aescendune he found Elfric eagerly awaiting him; +he had not been so well in the absence of his brother, and every one saw +symptoms of the coming end. + +Still he seemed so happy when Alfred delivered his message that every +one remarked it, and that evening he sat up later than usual, listening +as Father Cuthbert read for the hundredth time his favourite story from +King Alfred's Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels, the parable of the +prodigal son, which had filled his mind on the night after the battle; +then he spoke to his mother about past days, before a cloud came between +him and his home; and talked of his father, and of the little incidents +of early youth. Always loving, he was more so than usual that night, as +if he felt time was short in which to show a son's love. + +That night his mother came, as she always came, when he was asleep, to +his chamber to gaze upon him, when she was struck by the difficulty of +his breathing; she felt alarmed when she saw the struggles he seemed to +make for breath, and saw the damp sweat upon his brow, so she called Alfred. + +Alfred saw at once that his brother was seriously worse, and summoned +Father Cuthbert, who no sooner gazed upon him than he exclaimed that the +end was near. + +During all that night he breathed heavily and with difficulty, as if +each breath would be the last. Towards morning, however, he rallied, and +immediate danger seemed gone, although only for a short time. + +He sat up for the last time that day. It was a lovely day in May, and in +the heat of the day he seemed to drink in the sweet atmosphere, as it +came gently through the open window, laden with the scents of a hundred +flowers. Often his lips moved as if in prayer, and sometimes he spoke to +his brother, and asked when Dunstan would come; but he was not equal to +prolonged conversation. + +At length one of the ceorls came riding in to say that the Bishop, with +his retinue, was approaching the village, and Father Cuthbert went out +to meet him. The impatient anxiety of poor Elfric became painful to witness. + +"He is coming, Elfric! he is coming!" said Alfred from the window. "I +see him near; see! he stops to salute Father Cuthbert, whom he knew +years ago; I must go down to receive him. + +"Mother! You stay with Elfric." + +A sound as of many feet; another moment, a firm step was heard upon the +stairs, and Dunstan entered the room. + +He advanced to the bed, while all present stood in reverent silence, and +gazed upon the patient with a look of such affection as a father might +bestow upon a dying son as he took the weak nerveless hand. + +Elfric looked round with a mute appeal which they all comprehended, and +left him alone with Dunstan. + +"Father, pardon me!" he said. + +"Thou askest pardon of me, my son--of me, a sinner like thyself; I +cannot tell thee how freely I give it thee; and now, my son, unburden +thyself before thy God, for never was it known that one pleaded to Him +and was cast out." + +When, after an interval, Dunstan summoned the lady Edith and Alfred back +into the room, a look cf such calm, placid composure, such satisfied +happiness, sat upon his worn face, that they never forgot it. + +"Surely," thought they, "such is the expression the blessed will wear in +heaven." + +And then, in their presence, Dunstan administered the Blessed Sacrament +of the Body and Blood of Christ to the happy penitent; it was the first +Communion which he had willingly made since he first left home, a bright +happy boy of fifteen; and words would fail to describe the deep faith +and loving penitence with which he gathered his dying strength to +receive the Holy Mysteries. + +And then Dunstan administered the last of all earthly rites--the holy +anointing;[xxxiii] while amidst their tears the mourners +yet thought of Him Who vouchsafed to be anointed before He sanctified +the grave to be a bed of hope to His people. + +"Art thou happy now, my son?" said Dunstan, when all was over. + +"Happy indeed! happy! yes, so happy!" + +They were almost the last words he said, until an hour had passed and +the sun had set, leaving the bright clouds suffused in rich purple, when +he sat up in the bed. + +"Mother! Alfred!" he said, "do you hear that music? Many are singing; +surely that was father's voice. Oh! how bright!" + +He fell back, and Dunstan began the solemn commendatory prayer, for he +saw the last moment was come. + +"Go forth, O Christian soul, from this world, in the name of God the +Father Who hath created thee, of God the Son Who hath redeemed thee, of +God the Holy Ghost Who hath been poured out upon thee; and may thy abode +be this day in peace, in the heavenly Sion, through Jesus Christ thy Lord." + +It was over! Over that brief but eventful life! Over all the bright +hopes which had centred on him in this world; but the battle was won, +and the eternal victory gained. + +We have little more to add to our tale; the remainder is matter of +history. The real fate of the unhappy Elgiva is not known, for the +legend which represents her as suffering a violent death at the hands of +the partisans of Edgar or Odo rests upon no solid foundation, but is +repugnant to actual facts of history. Let us hope that she found the +only real consolation in that religion she had hitherto, unhappily, +despised, but which may perhaps have come to her aid in adversity. + +The unhappy Edwy sank from bad to worse. When Elgiva was gone he seemed +to have nothing to live for; he yielded himself up to riotous living to +drown care, while his government became worse and worse. Alas, he never +repented, so far as we can learn, and the following year he died at +Gloucester--some said of a broken heart, others of a broken +constitution--in the twentieth year only of his age. + +Poor unhappy Edwy the Fair! Yet he had been his own worst enemy. Well +has it been written: + +"Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine +heart, and in the sight of thine eyes; but know thou that for all these +things God will bring thee into judgment." + +Edgar succeeded to the throne, and all England acknowledged him as lord; +while under Dunstan's wise administration the land enjoyed peace and +plenty unexampled in Anglo-Saxon annals. Such was Edgar's power, that +more than three thousand vessels kept the coast in safety, and eight +tributary kings did him homage. + +Alfred became in due course Thane of Aescendune, and his widowed mother +lived to rejoice in his filial care many a long year, while the +dependants and serfs blessed his name as they had once blessed that of +his father. + +"The boy is the father of the man" it has been well said, and it was not +less true than usual in this case. A bright pure boyhood ushered in a +manhood of healthful vigour and bright intellect. + +Children grew up around him after his happy marriage with Alftrude, the +daughter of the thane of Rollrich. The eldest boy was named Elfric, and +was bright and brave as the Elfric of old. Need we say he never went to +court, although Edgar would willingly have numbered him in the royal +household. Truly, indeed, were fulfilled the words which the Elfric of +old had spoken on that Easter eve. To his namesake, and to all that +younger generation, the memory of the uncle they had never seen was +surrounded by a mysterious halo of light and love; and when they said +their prayers around his tomb, it seemed as if he were still one of +themselves--sharing their earthly joys and sorrows. + +And here we must leave them--time passing sweetly on, the current of +their lives flowing softly and gently to the mighty ocean of eternity: + +"Where the faded flower shall freshen, +Freshen never more to fade; +Where the shaded sky shall brighten, +Brighten never more to shade." +_Bonar_. + +THE END. + +i For authorities for his various statements the Author +must beg to refer his readers to the notes at the end of the volume. + +ii Homilies in the Anglo-Saxon Church + +"The mass priest, on Sundays and mass days, shall speak the sense of the +Gospel to the people in English, and of the Paternoster, and of the +Creed, as often as he can, for the inciting of the people to know their +belief, and to retain their Christianity. Let the teacher take heed of +what the prophet says, 'They are dumb dogs, and cannot bark.' We ought +to bark and preach to laymen, lest they should be lost through +ignorance. Christ in His gospel says of unlearned teachers, 'If the +blind lead the blind, they both fall into the ditch.' The teacher is +blind that hath no book learning, and he misleads the laity through his +ignorance. Thus are you to be aware of this, as your duty requires."-- +23d Canon of Elfric, about A.D. 957. + +Elfric was then only a private monk in the abbey of Ahingdon, and +perhaps composed these canons for the use of Wulfstan, Bishop of +Dorchester, with the assistance of the abbot, Ethelwold. They commence +"Aelfricus, humilis frater, venerabili Episcopo Wulfsino, salutem in +Domino." Others think this "Wulfsinus" was the Bishop of Sherborne of +that name. Elfric became eventually Archbishop of Canterbury, A.D. +995-1005, dying at an advanced age. No other English name before the +Conquest is so famous in literature. + +iii Services of the Church. + +"It concerns mass priests, and all God's servants, to keep their +churches employed with God's service. Let them sing therein the +seven-tide songs that are appointed them, as the Synod earnestly +requires--that is, the uht song (matins); the prime song (seven A.M.); +the undern song (terce, nine A.M.); the midday song (sext); the noon +song (nones, three P.M.); the even song (six P.M.); the seventh or night +song (compline, nine P.M.)"--19th Canon of Elfric. + +It is not to be supposed that the laity either were expected to attend, +or could attend, all these services, which were strictly kept in +monastic bodies; but it would appear that mass, and sometimes matins and +evensong, or else compline, were generally frequented. And these latter +would be, as represented in the text, the ordinary services in private +chapels. + +iv Battle of Brunanburgh. + +In this famous battle, the English, under their warlike king, defeated a +most threatening combination of foes; Anlaf, the Danish prince, having +united his forces to those of Constantine, King of the Scots, and the +Britons, or Welsh of Strathclyde and Cambria. So proud were the English +of the victory, that their writers break into poetry when they come to +that portion of their annals. Such is the case with the writer of the +Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, from whom the following verses are abridged. They +have been already partially quoted in the text. + +Here Athelstane king, +Of earls the lord, +To warriors the ring-giver, +Glory world-long +Had won in the strife, +By edge of the sword, +At Brunanburgh. +The offspring of Edward, +The departed king, +Cleaving the shields. +Struck down the brave. +Such was their valour, +Worthy of their sires, +That oft in the strife +They shielded the land +'Gainst every foe. +The Scottish chieftains, +The warriors of the Danes, +Pierced through their mail, +Lay dead on the field. +The field was red +With warriors' blood, +What time the sun, +Uprising at morn, +The candle of God, +Ran her course through the heavens; +Till red in the west +She sank to her rest. +Through the live-long day +Fought the people of Wessex, +Unshrinking from toil, +While Mercian men, +Hurled darts by their side. +Fated to die +Their ships brought the Danes, +Five kings and seven earls, +All men of renown, +And Scots without number +Lay dead on the field. +Constantine, hoary warrior, +Had small cause to boast. +Young in the fight, +Mangled and torn, +Lay his son on the plain. +Nor Anlaf the Dane +With wreck of his troops, +Could vaunt of the war +Of the clashing of spears. +Or the crossing of swords, +with the offspring of Edward. +The Northmen departed +In their mailed barks, +Sorrowing much; +while the two brothers, +The King and the Etheling, +To Wessex returned, +Leaving behind +The corpses of foes +To the beak of the raven, +The eagle and kite, +And the wolf of the wood. + +The Chronicle simply adds, "A.D. 937.--This year King Athelstan, and +the Etheling Edmund, his brother, led a force to Brimanburgh, end there +fought against Anlaf, and, Christ helping them, they slew five kings and +seven earls." + +v Murder of Edmund. + +A certain robber named Leofa, whom Edmund had banished for his crimes, +returning after six years' absence, totally unexpected, was sitting, on +the feast of St. Augustine, the apostle of the English, and first +Archbishop of Canterbury, among the royal guests at Pucklechurch, for on +this day the English were wont to regale, in commemoration of their +first preacher; by chance, too, he was placed near a nobleman, whom the +king had condescended to make his guest. This, while the others were +eagerly carousing, was perceived by the king alone; when, hurried with +indignation, and impelled by fate, he leaped from the table, caught the +robber by the hair, and dragged him to the floor; but he, secretly +drawing a dagger from its sheath, plunged it with all his force into the +breast of the king as he lay upon him. Dying of the wound, he gave rise +over the whole kingdom to many fictions concerning his decease. The +robber was shortly torn limb from limb by the attendants who rushed in, +though he wounded some of them ere they could accomplish their purpose. +St. Dunstan, at that time Abbot of Glastonbury, had foreseen his ignoble +end, being fully persuaded of it from the gesticulations and insolent +mockery of a devil dancing before him. Wherefore, hastening to court at +full speed, he received intelligence of the transaction on the road. By +common consent, then, it was determined that his body should be brought +to Glastonbury, and there magnificently buried in the northern part of +the tower. That such had been his intention, through his singular regard +for the abbot, was evident from particular circumstances. The village, +also, where he was murdered, was made a offering for the dead, that the +spot, which had witnessed his fall, might ever after minister aid to his +soul,--William of Malmesbury, B, ii. e. 7, Bohn's Edition. + +vi A. D. 556--Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. + +vii Wulfstan, and the See of Dorchester. + +When Athelstane was dead, the Danes, both in Northumberland and Mercia, +revolted against the English rule, and made Anlaf their king. Archbishop +Wulfstan, then of York, sided with them, perhaps being himself of Danish +blood. The kingdom was eventually divided between Edmund and Aulaf, +until the death of the latter. When Edred ascended the throne--after +the murder of Edmund, who had, before his death, repossessed himself of +the whole sovereignty--the wise men of Northumberland, with Wulfstan +at their head, swore submission to him, but in 948 rebelled and chose +for their king Eric of Denmark. Edred marched at once against them, and +subdued the rebellion with great vigour, not to say riqour. He threw the +archbishop into prison at Jedburgh in Bernicia. After a time he was +released, but only upon the condition of banishment from Northumbria, +and he was made Bishop of Dorchester, a place familiar to the tourist on +the Thames, famed for the noble abbey church which still exists, and has +been grandly restored. + +Although Dorchester is now only a village, it derives its origin from a +period so remote that it is lost in the mist of ages. It was probably a +British village under the name Cair Dauri, the camp on the waters; and +coins of Cunobelin, or Cassivellaunus, have been found in good +preservation. Bede mentions it as a Roman station, and Richard of +Cirencester marks it as such in the xviii. Iter, under the name Durocina. + +Its bishopric was founded by Birinus, the apostle of the West Saxons; +and the present bishoprics of Winchester, Salisbury, Exeter, Bath and +Wells, Worcester and Hereford, were successively taken from it, after +which it still extended from the Thames to the Humber. + +Suffering grievously from the ravages of the Danes, it became a small +town, and it suffered again grievously at the Conquest, when the +inhabited houses were reduced by the Norman ravages from 172 to 100, and +perhaps the inhabitants were reduced in proportion. In consequence, +Remigius, the first Norman bishop, removed the see to Lincoln, because +Dorchester, on account of its size and small population, did not suit +his ideas, as John of Brompton observes. From this period its decline +was rapid, in spite of its famous abbey, which Remigius partially +erected with the stones from the bishop's palace. + +viii Anglo-Saxon Literature. + +In the age of Bede, the eighth century, Britain was distinguished for +its learning; but the Danish invasions caused the rapid decline of its +renown. + +The churches and monasteries, where alone learning flourished, and which +were the only libraries and schools, were the first objects of the +hatred of the ferocious pagans; and, in consequence, when Alfred came to +the throne, as he tells us in his own words--"South of the Humber +there were few priests who could understand the meaning of their common +prayers, or translate a line of Latin into English; so few, that in +Wessex there was not one." Alfred set himself diligently to work to +correct this evil. Nearly all the books in existence in England were in +Latin, and it was a "great" library which contained fifty copies of +these. There was a great objection to the use of the vernacular in the +Holy Scriptures, as tending to degrade them by its uncouth jargon; but +the Venerable Bede had rendered the Gospel of St. John into the +Anglo-Saxon, together with other extracts from holy Scripture; and there +were versions of the Psalter in the vulgar tongue, very rude and +uncouth; for ancient translators generally imagined a translation could +only be faithful which placed all the words of the vulgar tongue in the +same relative positions as the corresponding words in the original. An +Anglo-Saxon translation upon this plan is extant. + +Alfred had taught himself Latin by translating: there were few +vocabularies, and only the crabbed grammar of old Priscian. Shaking +himself free from the trammels we have enumerated, he invited learned +men from abroad, such as his biographer, Asser, and together they +attempted a complete version of the Bible. Some writers suppose the +project was nearly completed, others, that it was interrupted by his +early death. Still, translations were multiplied of the sacred writings, +and the rubrics show that they were read, as described in the text, upon +the Sundays and festivals. From that time down to the days of Wickliffe, +England can boast of such versions of the sacred Word as can hardly be +paralleled in Europe. + +The other works we have mentioned were also translated by or for Alfred. +"The Chronicle of Orosius," a history of the world by a Spaniard of +Seville; "The History of the Venerable Bede;" "The Consolations of +Philosophy," by Boethius; "Narratives from Ancient Mythology;" "The +Confessions of St. Augustine;" "The Pastoral Instructions of St. +Gregory;" and his "Dialogue," form portions of the works of this +greatest of kings, and true father of his people. His "Apologues," +imitated from Aesop, are unfortunately lost. + +ix The Court of Edred. + +All the early chroniclers appear to take a similar view of the character +and court of Edred. William of Malmesbury says--"The king devoted his +life to God, and to St. Dunstan, by whose admonition he bore with +patience his frequent bodily pains, prolonged his prayers, and made his +palace altogether the school of virtue." But although pious, he was by +no means wanting in manly energy, as was shown by his vigorous and +successful campaign in Northumbria, on the occasion of the attempt to +set Eric, son of Harold, on the throne of Northumbria. The angelic +apparition to St. Dunstan, mentioned in chapter VII, is told by nearly +all the early historians, but with varying details. According to many, +it occurred while Dunstan was hastening to the aid of Edred. The +exigencies of the tale required a slightly different treatment of the +legend. + +x Confession in the Anglo-Saxon Church. + +"On the week next before holy night shall every one go to his shrift +(i.e. confessor), and his shrift shall shrive him in such a manner as +his deeds which he hath done require and he shall charge all that belong +to his district that if any of them have discord with any, he make peace +with him; if any one will not be brought to this, then he shall not +shrive him; [but] then he shall inform the bishop, that he may convert +him to what is right, if he he willing to belong to God: then all +contentions and disputes shall cease, and if there be any one of them +that hath taken offence at another, then shall they be reconciled, that +they may the more freely say in the Lord's Prayer, 'Forgive us our +trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us,' etc. And +having thus purified their minds, let them enter upon the holy +fast-tide, and cleanse themselves by satisfaction against holy Easter, +for this satisfaction is as it were a second baptism. As in Baptism the +sins before committed are forgiven, so, by satisfaction, are the sins +committed after Baptism." Theodulf's Canons, A.D. 994 (Canon 36). + +It is evident, says Johnson, that "holy night" means "lenten night," as +the context shows. + +xi Incense in the Anglo-Saxon Church. + +Dr. Rock, in his "Hierurgia Anglicans," states that incense was used at +the Gospel. In vol. i., quoting from Ven. Bede, he writes--"Conveniunt +omnes in ecclesium B. Petri ipse (Ceolfridas Abbas) thure incenso, et +dicto oratione, ad altare pacem dat omnibus, stans in gradibus, +thuribulum habens in menu." In Leofric's Missal is a form for the +blessing of incense. Theodore's Penitential also affixes a penance to +its wilful or careless destruction. Ven. Bede on his deathbed gave away +incense amongst his little parting presents, as his disciple, Cuthbert, +relates. Amongst the furniture of the larger Anglo-Saxon churches was a +huge censer hanging from the roof, which emitted fumes throughout the mass. + +"Hic quoque thuribulum, capitellis undique cinctum, +Pendet de summo, fumosa foramina pandens: +De quibus ambrosia spirabunt thura Sabaea, +Quando sacerdotes missas offerre jubentur." +Alcuini _Opera_, B. ii,, p. 550. + +xii Psalm xxi. 3. + +xiii "All were indignant at the shameless deed, and +murmured amongst themselves,"--William of Malmesbury. + +xiv The Welsh were driven from Exeter by King +Athelstane; before that time, Englishmen and Welsh had inhabited it with +equal rights. + +xv The earliest inhabitants of Ireland were called Scots. + +xvi Legends about St. Dunstan. + +"It is a great pity," says Mr. Freeman, in his valuable "Old English +History," "that so many strange stories are told about him [Dunstan], +because people are apt to think of those stories and not of his real +actions." This has indeed been the case to such an extent that his +talents, as a statesman and as an ecclesiastical legislator, are almost +unknown to many who are very familiar with the story of his seizing the +devil by the nose with a pair of tongs. Sir Francis Palgrave supposes +that St. Dunstan's seclusion at the time had led him to believe, like so +many solitaries, that he was attacked in person by the fiend, and that +he related his visions, which were accepted as absolute facts by his +credulous hearers. Hence the author has assumed the currency of some of +these marvellous legends in his tale, and has introduced a later one +into the text of the present chapter. But the whole life of the saint, +as related by his monkish biographers, is literally full of such +legends, some terrible, some ludicrous. One of the most remarkable +deserves mention, bearing, as it does, upon our tale. It is said that he +learned that Edwy was dead, and that the devils were about to carry off +his soul in triumph, when, falling to fervent prayer, he obtained his +release. A most curious colloquy between the abbot and the devils on +this subject may be found in Osberne's "Life of Dunstan." + +xvii The Benedictine Rule. + +St. Benedict, the founder of the great Benedictine Order, was born in +the neighbourhood of Nursia, a city of Italy, about A.D. 480. Sent to +study at Rome, he was shocked at the vices of his fellow students, ran +away from the city, and shut himself up in a hermitage, where he +resigned himself to a life of the strictest austerity. Three years he +spent in a cave near Subiaco, about forty miles from Rome, where he was +so removed from society that he lost all account of time. He did not, +however, lead an idle life of self contemplation; he instructed the +shepherds of he neighbourhood, and such were the results of his +instruction that his fame spread widely, until, the abbot of a +neighbouring monastery dying, the brethren almost compelled him to +become their superior, but, not liking the reforms he introduced, +subsequently endeavoured to poison him, whereupon he returned to his +cave, where, as St. Gregory says, "he dwelt with himself" and became +more celebrated than ever. After this the number of his disciples +increased so greatly, that, emerging from his solitude, he built twelve +monasteries, in each of which he placed twelve monks under a superior, +finally laying the foundation of the great monastery of Monte Cassino, +which has ever since been regarded as the central institution of the order. + +Here was drawn up the famous Benedictine rule, which was far more +adapted than any other code to prevent the cloister from becoming the +abode of idleness or lascivious ease. To the three vows of poverty, +chastity, and obedience, was added the obligation of manual labour, the +brethren being required to work with their hands at least seven hours +daily. The profession for life was preceded by a novitiate of one year, +during which the rule was deeply studied by the novice, that the life +vow might not be taken without due consideration. The colour of the +habit was usually dark, hence the brethren were called the Black Monks. + +St. Benedict died of a fever, which he caught in ministering to the +poor, on the eve of Passion Sunday, A.D. 543. Before his death, the +houses of the order were to be found in all parts of Europe, and by the +ninth century it had become general throughout the Church, almost +superseding all other orders. + +xviii The Roman Roads. + +Roman roads were thus constructed: Two shallow trenches were dug +parallel to each other, marking the breadth of the proposed road; the +loose earth was removed till a solid foundation was reached, and above +this were laid four distinct strata--the first of small broken stones, +the second of rubble, the third of fragments of bricks or pottery, and +the fourth the pavement, composed of large blocks of solid stone, so +joined as to present a perfectly even surface. Regular footpaths were +raised on each side, and covered with gravel. Milestones divided them +accurately. Mountains were pierced by cuttings or tunnels, and arches +thrown over valleys or streams. Upon these roads, posting houses existed +at intervals of six miles, each provided with forty horses, so that +journeys of more than 150 miles were sometimes accomplished in one day. + +From the arrival of our uncivilised anceators, these magnificent roads +were left to ruin and decay, and sometimes became the quarry whence the +thane or baron drew stones for his castle; but they still formed the +channels of communication for centuries. Henry of Huntingdon (circa +1154) mentions the Icknield Street, from east to west; the Eringe, or +Ermine Street, from south to north; the Watling Street, from southeast +to northwest; and the Foss Way, from northeast to southwest, as the four +principal highways of Britain in his day. Once ruined, no communications +so perfect existed until these days of railroads. + +xix The Rollright Stones. + +These stones are still to be seen in the parish of Great Rollright near +Chipping Norton, Oxon, anciently Rollrich or Rholdrwygg. They lie on the +edge of an old Roman trackway, well defined, which extends along the +watershed between Thames and Avon. The writer has himself heard from the +rustics of the neighbourhood the explanation given by Oswy, while that +put in the mouth of Father Cuthbert is the opinion of the learned. + +xx For this new translation of Urbs beata the author is +indebted to his friend the Rev. Gerald Moultrie. + +xxi The reader will remember the strong feeling of +animosity then existing between seculars and regulars. + +xxii This demoniacal laughter is one of the many +legends about St. Dunstan. + +xxiii See Preface. + +xxiv Ruined British Cities. + +The resistance of the Britons (or Welsh) to their Saxon (or English) +foes was so determined, that, as in all similar cases, it increased the +miseries of the conquered. In Gaul the conquered Celts united with the +Franks to make one people; in Spain they united with the Goths; but the +conquerors of Britain came from that portion of Germany which had been +untouched by Roman valour or civilisation, and consequently there was no +disposition to unite with their unhappy victims, but the war became one +of extermination. Long and bravely did the unhappy Welsh struggle. After +a hundred years of warfare they still possessed the whole extent of the +western coast, from the wall of Autoninus to the extreme promontory of +Cornwall; and the principal cities of the inland territory still +maintained the resistance. The fields of battle, says Gibbon, might be +traced in almost every district by the monuments of bones; the fragments +of falling towers were stained by blood, the Britons were massacred +ruthlessly to the last man in the conquered towns, without distinction +of age or sex, as in Anderida. Whole territories returned to desolation; +the district between the Tyne and Tees, for example, to the state of a +savage and solitary forest. The wolves, which Roman authorities describe +as nonexistent in England, again peopled those dreary wastes; and from +the soft civilisation of Rome the inhabitants of the land fell back to +the barbarous manners and customs of the shepherds and hunters of the +German forests. Nor did the independent Britons, who had taken refuge +finally in Wales, or Devon and Cornwall, fare much better. Separated by +their foes from the rest of mankind, they returned to that state of +barbarism from which they had emerged, and became a scandal at last to +the growing civilisation of their English foes. + +Under these circumstances the Saxons or English (the Saxons founded the +kingdoms of Wessex and Essex; the Jutes, Kent; the Angles all the +others. The predominance of the latter caused the term English to become +the general appellation.) cared little to inhabit the cities they +conquered; they left them to utter desolation, as in the case described +in the text, until a period came when, as in the case of the first +English assaults upon Exeter and the west country, they no longer +destroyed, but appropriated, while they spared the conquered. + +xxv Seaton in Devonshire. + +xxvi Elgiva or Aelgifu, signifies fairy gift. + +Xxvii + +The gate of hell stands open night and day; +Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: +But to return, and view the upper skies-- +In this the toil, in this the labour lies.--Dryden. + +xxviii Valhalla. + +Valhalla or Waihalla was the mythical Scandinavian Olympus, the +celestial locality where Odin and Edris dwelt with the happy dead who +had fallen in battle, and who had been conducted thither by the fair +Valkyries. Here they passed the days in fighting and hunting +alternately, being restored sound in body for the banquet each night, +where they drank mead from the skulls of the foes they had vanquished in +battle. Such was the heaven which commended itself to those fierce warriors. + +xxix The parish priests were commonly called "Mass-Thanes" + +xxx "I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord. +He that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and +whosoever liveth, and believeth in Me, shall never die." + +It was not the usual English custom, in those days, to bury the dead in +coffins, still it was often done, in the case of the great, from the +earliest days of Christianity. For instance, a stone coffin, supposed to +contain the dust of the fierce Offa, who died A. D. 796, was dug up, +when more than a thousand years had passed away, in the year 1836, at +Hemel-Hempstead, with the name Offa rudely carved upon it. The earliest +mention of churchyards in English antiquities is in the canons called +the "Excerptions of Ecgbriht," A.D. 740, when Cuthbert was Archbishop of +Canterbury; and here the word "atria" is used, which may refer to the +outbuildings or porticoes of a church. + + +xxxi The Greater and Lesser Excommunications. + +The lesser excommunication excluded men from the participation of the +Eucharist and the prayers of the faithful, but did not necessarily expel +them from the Church. The greater excommunication was far more dreadful +in its operation. It was not lawful to pray, speak, or eat, with the +excommunicate (Canons of Ecgbright). No meat might be given into their +hands even in charity, although it might be laid before them on the +ground. Those who sheltered them incurred a heavy "were gild," and +endangered the loss of their estates; and finally, in case of obstinacy, +outlawry and banishment followed. + +--King Canute's Laws Ecclesiastical. + +xxxii Disappearance of Elgiva. + +The writer has already in the preface stated his reasons for rejecting +the usual sad story about the fate of the hapless Elgiva. The other +story, that she was seized by Archbishop Odo, branded on the face, and +sent to Ireland, as Mr. Freeman observes, rests on no good authority; +all that is certainly known is that she disappeared. + +At the time commonly assigued to these events, Dunstan was still in +Flanders; yet he is generally credited with the atrocities by modern +writers, even as if he had been proved guilty after a formal trial. His +return probably took place about the time occupied by the action of the +last chapter, when the partition of the kingdom had already occurred. + +xxxiii The last Anointing. + +The priest shall also have oil hallowed, separately, for children, and +for sick men; and solemnly anoint the sick in their beds. Some sick men +are full of vain fears, so as not to consent to the being anointed. Now +we will tell you how God's Apostle Jacob hath instructed us in this +point; he thus speaks to the faithful: "If any of you be afflicted, let +him pray for himself with an even mind, and praise his Lord. If any be +sick among you, let him fetch the mass priests of the congregation, and +let them sing over him, and pray for him, and anoint him with oil in the +Name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith shall heal the sick; and the +Lord shall raise him up: and if he be in sins they shall be forgiven +him. Confess your sins among yourselves, pray for yourselves among +yourselves, that ye be healed." Thus spake Jacob the Apostle concerning +the unction of the sick. But the sick man, before his anointing, shall +with inward heart confess his sins to the priest, if he hath any for +which he hath not made satisfaction, according to what the Apostle +before taught: and he must not be anointed, unless he request it, and +make his confession. If he were before sinful and careless, let him then +confess, and repent, and do alms before his death, that he may not be +adjudged to hell, but obtain the Divine mercy. + +Such is Johnson's version of the 32d canon of Elfric, in which he has +preserved closely Elfric's translation, or rather paraphrase, of the +passage in St. James. The name James was not then in use, the Latin +Jacobus was rendered Jacob.--Johnson's English Canons, A.D. 957, 32. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle +of Aescendune, by A. D. Crake + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EDWY THE FAIR OR THE FIRST *** + +***** This file should be named 13215.txt or 13215.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/2/1/13215/ + +Produced by Martin Robb + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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