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diff --git a/old/13215-h/13215-h.htm b/old/13215-h/13215-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..86caefb --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13215-h/13215-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13613 @@ +<!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. 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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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