ALFGAR THE DANE OR THE SECOND CHRONICLE OF AESCENDUNE:

A Tale of the Days of Edmund Ironside

by the Rev. A. D. Crake. 

 PREFACE. 

 CHAPTER I. THE DIARY OF FATHER CUTHBERT. 

 CHAPTER II. "ALFGAR, SON OF ANLAF. "

 CHAPTER III. THE NIGHT OF ST. BRICE. 

 CHAPTER IV. THE DANES IN WESSEX. 

 CHAPTER V. THE TRACKS IN THE FOREST. 

 CHAPTER VI. THROUGH SUFFERING TO GLORY. 

 CHAPTER VII. FATHER AND SON. 

 CHAPTER VIII. FATHER CUTHBERT'S DIARY. 

 CHAPTER IX. THE CAMP OF THE DANES. 

 CHAPTER X. CARISBROOKE IN THE ELEVENTH CENTURY. 

 CHAPTER XI. THE GLEEMAN. 

 CHAPTER XII. THE MONASTERY OF ABINGDON. 

 CHAPTER XIII. THE CITY OF DORCHESTER. 

 CHAPTER XIV. THE SON AND THE FAVOURITE. 

 CHAPTER XV. FATHER CUTHBERT'S DIARY AT CLIFFTON. 

 CHAPTER XVI. THE FEAST OF CHRISTMAS. 

 CHAPTER XVII. FOR HEARTH AND HOME. 

 CHAPTER XVIII. FATHER CUTHBERT'S DIARY. 

 CHAPTER XIX. THE ROYAL DEATHBED. 

 CHAPTER XX. THE MIDNIGHT FLIGHT. 

 CHAPTER XXI. EDMUND AND CANUTE. 

 CHAPTER XXII. SMOOTHER THAN OIL. 

 CHAPTER XXIII. WHO HATH DONE THIS DEED?

 CHAPTER XXIV. THE ORDEAL. 

 CHAPTER XXV. FATHER CUTHBERT'S DIARY. 

PREFACE. 

The tale now presented to the indulgence of the public is the secondof a series of tales, each complete in itself, which, as stated in thepreface to the first of the series, have been told to the senior boysof a large school, in order to secure their interest in historicalcharacters, and to illustrate great epochs in human affairs by the aidof fiction. 

Yet the Author has distinctly felt that fiction must always, in suchcases, be subordinate to truth, and that it is only legitimately usedas a vehicle of instruction when it fills up the gaps in the outline, without contradicting them in any respect, or interfering with theirdue order and sequence. 

Therefore he has attempted in every instance to consult such originalauthorities as lay within his reach, and has done his best to presentan honest picture of the times. 

The period selected on the present occasion is full of the deepestinterest. The English and the Danish invaders of their soil werestruggling desperately for the possession of England--a struggleaggravated by religious bitterness, and by the sanguinary nature ofthe Danish creed. 

The reign of Ethelred the Unready, from his accession, after themurder of his innocent brother, until the scene depicted in thenineteenth chapter of the tale, was a tragedy ever deepening. Itsdetails will seem dark enough as read herein, but how utterly darkthey were can only be appreciated by those who study the contemporaryannals. Many facts therein given have been rejected by the Author astoo harrowing in their nature; and he has preferred to render thecontemplation of woe and suffering less painful, by a display of thosevirtues of patience, resignation, and brave submission to the Divinewill, which affliction never fails to bring out in the fold of Christ, whose promise stands ever fast, that the strength of His people shallbe equal to their needs. 

With the death of the unhappy king, and the accession of his brave butunfortunate son, the whole character of the history changes. Englishmen are henceforth at least a match for their oppressors, andthe result of the long contest is the conversion of their foes toChristianity, their king setting the example, and the union of the tworaces--not the submission of one to the other. The Danish element hadbeen received into the English nation to join in moulding the futurenational character--to add its own special virtues to the typicalEnglishman of the future. 

One more rude shock had yet to be sustained before the alloy offoreign blood was complete--the Norman Conquest. This is the subjectof the Third Story of Aescendune, which has yet to be written. 

One character in the tale has always puzzled historians--a character, so far as the author knows, absolutely without redeeming trait--EdricStreorn. It is well said that no man is utterly bad, and perhaps hepossessed domestic virtues which were thought unworthy of theattention of the chroniclers; but as they picture him--now promptingEthelred to deeds of treachery against the Danes, now joining thoseDanes themselves, and surpassing them in cruelty--now seekingpretended reconciliation, only to betray his foe more surely, and inall this aided and supported by the weak, unprincipled king--as thuspictured there is scarcely a blacker character in history. 

But more incomprehensible than the existence of so bad a man in such adark age is the renewed confidence ever accorded him, when, after morethan once betraying the armies of his country into the hands of theirfoes, and fighting openly in the hostile cause, he is again forgiven, nay, received into favour, and sent once more to command the men hehas already deceived, until he repeats the experiment, and when itfails is again admitted into confidence. 

To some extent the Author has endeavoured to find possible solutionsof the mystery, but mystery it will remain until the day when allsecrets are known. 

The death of this unhappy man is taken, in all its main details, froma comparison of the chroniclers, as are also all the chief historicalevents herein noted. 

An objection has been raised to the modern English in which the Authorhas made his characters speak. He can only say in reply that theAnglo-Saxon in which they really expressed themselves would beunintelligible to all but the few who have made the study of ourancient tongue their pursuit--far more unintelligible to those ofordinary education than Latin or French. Therefore it would be mereaffectation to copy the later orthography of Chaucer, or to interlardone's sentences with obsolete words. The only course seems to be afair translation of the vernacular of the period of the tale into ourown everyday English. The Author anticipated this objection in thepreface to his earlier volume. He repeats his answer for those who maynot have seen the former book. A similar rule has guided him in theorthography of proper names; he has used the customary Latinisedforms. 

In his descriptions of Dorchester and Abingdon he has been aided bythe kind information received from the present vicar of themagnificent Abbey Church, still existing in the former ancient town, and by the extensive information contained in the Chronicle of theAbbey of Abingdon, edited by the Rev. Joseph Stevenson, M. A. He hasalso to express his obligations to his friend Mr. Charles Walker, editor of the "Liturgy of the Church of Sarum, " for valuableassistance in monastic lore. 

The moral aim of the tale has been to depict the mental difficultieswhich our heathen forefathers had severally to encounter ere theycould embrace Christianity--difficulties chiefly arising from theinconsistencies of Christians--and to set forth the example of onewho, having found the "pearl of great price, " sold all he had andbought it, forsaking all that could appeal to the imagination of awarlike youth--"choosing rather to suffer affliction with the peopleof God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season. "

Yet his Christianity, like that of all other characters in the tale, is that of their age, not of ours, and men will differ as to itscomparative merits. "Unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall muchbe required. "

The author dedicates this tale to his brother, engaged, like himself, in that most responsible task, the education of youth, in memory ofthose happy days when they pored together in rapturous delight overold legend or romantic lore in their father's home at that veryClifton (now Clifton Hampden) familiar to hearers or readers of thetale as the home of Herstan, and the scene of the heroic defence ofthe English dwelling against the Danes. It will be a great reward forthe Author's toil should this little volume similarly gladden manyfiresides during the approaching Christmas, and perhaps cause some tothank God for the contrast between the Christmas of 1007 and that of1874. 

A. D. C. 

All Saints' School, Bloxham. 

Advent, 1874. 

CHAPTER I. THE DIARY OF FATHER CUTHBERT. 

All Saints' Day, 1002. 

Inasmuch as I, Cuthbert, by the long-suffering of the Divine goodness, am prior of the Benedictine house of St. Wilfrid at Aescendune, itseems in some sort my duty, following the example of many worthybrethren, to write some account of the origin and history of thepriory over which it has pleased God to make me overseer, and to note, as occasion serves from time to time, such passing events as seemworthy of remembrance; which record, deposited in the archives of thehouse, may preserve our memory when our bodies are but dust, and otherbrethren fill our places in the choir. Perhaps each generation thinksthe events which happen in its own day more remarkable than any whichhave preceded, and that its own period is the crisis of the fate ofChurch or State. Yet surely no records of the past, extant, tell us ofsuch dark threatening clouds as hang over the realm of England at thistime; when the thousandth year since our blessed Lord's nativityhaving passed, we seem to be entering on those awful plagues which theApocalypse tells us must precede the consummation of all things. 

But we who trust in the Lord have a strong tower wherein to hide, andwe know of a land where there is no darkness or shadow of death;therefore we will not fear though the earth be moved, and the hills becarried into the midst of the sea. 

This house of St. Wilfrid was founded by Offa, Thane of Aescendune, inthe year of the Lord 938, and completed by his son and successor Ella, who was treacherously murdered by his nephew Ragnar, and lies buriedwithin these sacred walls. The first prior was Father Cuthbert, mygodfather, after whom I was named. He was appointed by Dunstan, justthen on the point of leaving England to escape the rage of the wickedand unhappy Edwy, and continued to exercise the authority until theyear 975, the year in which our lamented king, Edgar the Magnanimous, departed to his heavenly rest, with whose decease peace and prosperityseemed likewise to depart. 

Father Godric succeeded him, under whose paternal rule we enjoyedpeace for ten years. Truly the memory of the just is blessed. He diedin 985, and then was I chosen by the votes of the chapter to be theirprior, and my election was confirmed by the holy Dunstan, who himselfadmitted me to mine office. 

And truly the lines have fallen unto me in pleasant places, darkalthough--as I have said--the times are. The priory lies on the banksof the glorious Avon, where the forests come nearly down to its banks. Above us rises a noble hill, crowned with the oak and the beech, beneath whose shade many a deer and boar repose, and their flesh, whenbrought thither to gladden our festivals, is indeed toothsome andsavoury. 

Our buildings are chiefly of wood, although the foundations are ofstone. The great hall is floored and lined with oak, while thechapel--the Priory Church the people call it--excels for limning andgilding, as well as for the beauty of its tapestry, any church in thispart of Mercia. Our richest altar cloth is made of the purple robewhich King Edgar wore at his consecration, and which he sent to thethane Alfred of Aescendune for the Priory Church as a token of therespect and favour he bore him. And also he gave a veil of goldembroidery which representeth the destruction of Troy. It is hung upongreat days over the dais at the high table of the hall. 

The monastery is well endowed with lands by the liberality of itsfirst founder, as appears in the deeds preserved in our great munimentchest. We have ten hides of woodland, wherein none may cut wood savefor our use in the winter; five hides of arable land, and the sameextent of pasturage for cattle. Now for the care of the culturethereof we have a hundred serfs attached to the glebe, who, we trust, do not find us unkind lords. 

There are twenty brethren who have taken the final vows according tothe rule of St. Benedict, and ten novices, besides six lay brethren, and other our chief servitors. We keep the monastic hours, duly risingat daybreak to sing our lauds, and lying down after compline, with thepeace and blessing of Him who alone maketh us dwell in safety. 

Our daily work is not light. We preach on Sundays and festivals in thepriory church. We visit the sick. We instruct the youth in theelements of Christian doctrine. We superintend the labours of thosewho till the soil. We copy the sacred writings. In short, we have agreat deal to do, and I fear do it very imperfectly sometimes. 

I will add a few words only about myself. I am the third son ofAlfred {i}, thane of Aescendune, and his wife the Lady Alftrude ofRollrich. Elfric, my eldest brother, died young. Elfwyn is now thane, and I, the third boy, was given to the Church, for which I had everfelt a vocation, perhaps from my love to my godfather. We only had onesister, Bertha, and she has married the Thane Herstan of Clifton, nearDorchester, the seat of our good bishop Aelfhelm, and the shrine ofholy Birinus. 

My father and mother both sleep the sleep of the just. They lived tosee their children happy and prosperous, and then departed amidst thelamentations of all who had known and loved them. Taken from the evilto come, we cannot mourn them, nor would we call them back, althoughwe sorely missed their loved forms. They were full of years, yet agehad not dimmed their faculties. My father died in the year 998, mymother the following year. They rest by the side of their ancestors inthe priory church. 

My brother Elfwyn married Hilda, the daughter of Ceolfric, a Thane ofWessex, in the year 985. He has two children--Bertric, a fine lad oftwelve, and as good as he is manly; and Ethelgiva, a merry girl often. His household is well-ordered and happy--nurtured in theadmonition of the Lord. 

For myself I have had many offers of promotion in the brotherhood ofSt. Benedict, but have refused them. I was once offered the highoffice of abbot in one of our great Benedictine houses, but I wishedto be near my own people and my father's house, and here I trust Ishall stay till I seek a continuing city, whose builder and maker isGod. 

And now a little about the state of the country round us. In thisneighbourhood we have as yet been preserved from the evils of war, butfor many years past the Danes, those evil men, have renewed theirinroads, as they used to make them before the great King Alfredpacified the country. They began again in the year 980, and, with butslight intermission, have continued year by year. 

The awful prophecy which God forced from the lips of Dunstan {ii}, at the coronation of our most unhappy king, has been too sadlyfulfilled. Ah me! I fear the curse of the saints is upon him. When theholy bishop departed this life, I was one of the few who stood roundhis bed, and as he foretold of the evil to come, he bade us all bearour portion manfully, for the time, he said, would be short in whichto endure, and the eternal crown secure. 

Many of those to whom he spoke have since died the martyr's or thepatriot's death, but as yet no evil has reached us at Aescendune, although many parts of Wessex, nay, all the sea coast and the banks ofthe great rivers have been wasted with fire and sword, and the moneywhich has been given the barbarians has been worse than wasted, forthey only come for more. 

Our armies seem led by traitors; our councils, sad to say, by fools. Nothing prospers, and thoughtless people say the saints are asleep. Every day we say the petition in our Litany, "That it would pleaseThee to abate the cruelty of our pagan enemies, and to turn theirhearts; we beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord, " and we must wait Histime, and pray for strength to submit to His will. 

Around the priory live the serfs, the theows, and ceorls of theestate, each in his own little cottage, save the domestics, who liveat the Hall, which is only half-a-mile distant. 

On Sundays and Saints' days they all assemble in our minster church. It was full this day at the high mass, and I preached them a homilyupon the Saints, great part of which I took from a sermon I once heardthe holy Dunstan preach. And he showed us how saints did not live idlelives on this earth, but always went about, like their Lord andMaster, doing good, and that through much tribulation they entered theeternal kingdom, which also bids fair to be our lot nowadays, althoughwe be all miserable sinners, and not saints. 

Ah! how I thought of the dear ones we have lost when the Gospel wasread at mass, about the great multitude which no man could number, andI almost seemed as if I could see father, mother, and Elfric there. Iwould not wish them back; yet my heart is very lonely sometimes. Iwonder whether they remember now that it is All Saints' Day, and thatwe are thinking of them. Yes, I am sure they must do so. 

There have been few troubles from the Danes, close at hand; so fewthat they seem trivial in comparison with those our countrymen sufferelsewhere. Still we have many of the pagans living as settlers in ourneighbourhood, whose presence is tolerated for fear of the reprisalswhich might follow any acts of hostility against them. Kill one Dane, the people say, and a hundred come to his funeral. Many of thesesettlers have acquired their lands peaceably, but others by the strongarms of their ancestors in periods of ancient strife; and these havebeen allowed to keep their possessions for generations, so that ifthey did not retain their heathen customs we might forget they werenot Englishmen. 

One of these lives near us. His name is Anlaf. Some say he boasts ofbeing a descendant of that Anlaf who once ravaged England, and wasdefeated at Brunanburgh. He married an English girl, whose heart, theysay, he broke by his cruelty. They had one child, Alfgar by name. 

The mother died a Christian. Taking my life in my hands, I penetratedtheir fortalice, and administered the last sacrament to her; but theythreatened my life for entering their domains, and, perhaps, had Ibeen but a simple priest, and not also, small boast as it is, the sonof a powerful English thane, whom they feared to offend, I had died indoing my duty. When the poor girl was dying she committed the boy aswell as she could to my care, begging me to see that he was baptized;but the father has prevented me from carrying out her wishes, asserting that he would sooner slay the lad. 

But it seems as if the boy retained some traces of his mother's faith;over and over again I have seen him hiding in some remote corner ofthe church during service time, but he has always shrunk away when anyof the brethren attempted to speak to him. 

I am sure he wishes to be a Christian. 

I may, perhaps, find a chance of speaking to him, and a few words mayreach his heart. He knows my brother's family, and has once or twicejoined them in expeditions in the woods, and even entered their gates. His must be a lonely life at home; there are no other children, butfrom time to time hoary warriors, upon whose souls lies, I fear, theguilt of much innocent blood, find a home there. 

November 2d. --

This morning we said the office and mass for the dead, as usual on AllSouls' Day. My brother Elfwyn and his children were, of course, present. That boy, Bertric, with all his boyish spirit and brightness, is very pious. It was a sight which I thought might gladden theirguardian angels to see him and his sister kneeling with clasped handsat their uncle Elfric's tomb, and when service was over, they made metell them the old old story about the first Elfric, the brother of myfather, and how my father rescued him when the old castle wasburnt {iii}. 

When I had told them the story, I saw my brother was anxious to say afew words to me. 

"Cuthbert, " he said, "have you seen the young Dane, Alfgar, lately?"

"Not very long since, " I replied; "he was at mass yesterday. "

"Because I believe the lad longs to be a Christian, but does not darespeak to any one. "

"He fears his stern father. "

"Yes, Anlaf might slay him if he was to be baptized; yet baptized I amsure he will be, sooner or later. "

"Does the boy love his father, I wonder?" said I, musingly. 

"Doubtless; it would be unnatural did he not; but perhaps he loves thememory of his mother yet more. We both knew her, Cuthbert. "

"Yes, when she was a bright-hearted merry village maiden. PoorKyneswith!"

"For her sake, then, let us both try to do something for the boy. "

"With all my heart. I will seek an opportunity of speaking to him, perhaps he may unburden his mind. "

"Have you seen Edric the sheriff?" asked Elfwyn. 

"Not lately. Has he been here?"

"He has, and there was something in connection with his visit whichtroubled me. He had been telling me for a long time about thecruelties and insolence of the Danes, when he added, in a markedmanner, that they might go too far, for hundreds of their countrymen, like Anlaf here, were living unprotected amongst us. "

"What could he mean?"

"I understood him to hint that we might revenge ourselves upon them, and replied that whatever their countrymen might be guilty of, ourneighbours would, of course, always be safe amongst Christians. "

"What did he reply?"

"He changed the subject. "

Elfwyn said no more, but bade me goodbye and returned to the castle;still I saw that he was a little discomposed by the sheriff's words. Idon't like that sheriff; he is a cruel and a crafty man; but I daresayhis words were only the expression of a passing thought. 

CHAPTER II. "ALFGAR, SON OF ANLAF. "

SUNDAY, November 6th. --

Today I noticed Alfgar, the son of Anlaf, at the high mass, and felt alittle discomposed at the relaxation of discipline, which, contrary tothe canons of the church, permits the unbaptized, as well as personswho ought rightly to be deemed excommunicate, or at least penitents, to be present at the holy mysteries. 

But it is not this poor boy's fault that he is not a Christian, for Ihave seen him, and learned for a certainty the real state of his mind. 

The way in which it came about was this. I marked that after servicehe entered the woods, as if he shunned the society of his fellowworshippers, and there I followed him, coming upon him at last, as ifby accident, in a chestnut glade, the leaves of which strewed theground--emblem of our fading mortality. 

He started as he saw me, and at first looked as if he were inclined tofly my presence, but I gently addressed him. 

"Dominus vobiscum, my son, " I said. "I am pleased to see you sometimesat the minster church. "

"I did not know I was noticed amongst so many, " he replied. 

"You mean, my boy, that you would sooner your presence were notobserved. I can guess your reason too well. "

He looked so sad, that I was sorry I had spoken precipitately, and adeep red blush suffused his dark countenance. He has a most attractiveface--so thoughtful, yet so manly; his mother's gentle lineaments seemto have tempered the somewhat fierce and haughty bearing of his sire, as they meet in the countenance of their child. 

My sympathy became so deep that I could not restrain myself and spokeout:

"My boy, will you not confide your troubles to me, for your dearmother's sake? Do you not remember how she commended you to my care?And never have I forgotten to pray daily that her God may be your Godalso. "

At the mention of his mother the tears filled his eyes. We weresitting together on the trunk of a fallen tree, and he covered hisface with his hands, but I could see that the tears forced their waybetween the fingers, and that he was sobbing violently. He is only asyet a mere boy, and such emotion is excusable. 

At last he looked up. 

"I long to be a Christian like her, " he said; "over and over again shetaught me, during her last days on earth, of the Christ she loved, andwho, she said, was ever near her. I have heard all about the faith sheloved, yet I am an outcast from it. What can I do?--my father will notlet me be baptized, and I dare not oppose his will; yet I sometimesthink I ought to chance all, and to die, if death should be thepenalty. "

"Die? You do not surely think he would slay you?"

"I know he would. "

"In that case, my child, your duty seems plain: your Lord calls you togive Him your love, your obedience, and to seek refuge in the fold ofHis church. "

"Ought I to leave my father?"

I felt very much puzzled indeed what to say. I could have no doubt asto the lad's duty; but then his father was his natural guardian, andin all things, save the plain duty of professing Christ, had a claimto his obedience. 

"I think, " I said at last, "my Alfgar, that when he knew you weredetermined to be a Christian he would oppose you no longer; that is, if you were once baptized he would tolerate a Christian son as he oncedid a Christian wife. "

"He broke her heart. "

"At all events I think that you should delay no longer, but shouldseek instruction and baptism, which we will afford you; and then, unless you really feel life is in danger, you should return to him andtry to bear your lot; it may not be so hard as you think. "

"I am not afraid of death; but he is my father, and from his hands itwould be hard. "

"He hates Christianity grievously then?"

"He says it is the religion of cowards and hypocrites; that it forms aplea for cowardice when men dare not be men, and is thrown aside fastenough when they have their foes in their power. "

Alas! I could but feel how much reason the ill lives of Christians hadgiven him to form this opinion, and of the curse pronounced upon thosewho shall put a stumbling block in their brother's way. Theconversation of the Sheriff, Edric Streorn, rose up in my mind as anapt illustration of Anlaf's words. 

"My boy, " I said, "there is nothing perfect on earth. In the visiblechurch the evil is mingled with the good. Yet the church is the foldof the Good Shepherd, and there is salvation therein for all who loveand serve their Lord, and strive humbly to follow His example, andthose of His blessed Saints. "

"May I think over all you have said, and meet you next Sunday? Youwill be here, will you not?"

And he looked imploringly in my face. Poor boy! my heart bled for him. 

So we parted, and he went home. 

Friday, November 11th. --

I feel thoroughly uneasy and anxious about the sheriff's proceedings. He has been about the neighbourhood today, and seems to have beentalking secretly with all the black sheep of my flock; thank God, I donot think there are many. What they can be going to do, or what plotthey are hatching, I cannot discover, only I fear that it is somedesign for vengeance upon the Danes--some dark treachery plottedagainst those in our midst; and, if such is the case, I can but feeluneasy for poor Alfgar. I wish the lad would leave his home, if butfor a short time, until the signs are less threatening; but he wouldnot forsake his father in danger, and I ought hardly to wish it. 

St. Brice's Day, Sunday, November 13th--

This has been a harassing and eventful day. Early in the morning, before the high mass, whereat the neighbourhood is generally present, I received a missive from the sheriff, bidding me, in the name of theKing, to exhort my people to remain at home tonight, since danger isafoot, and there is likely, he says, to be a rising on the part of thepagans who dwell amongst us. Why, they are but one in five in thisneighbourhood; hardly that. I determined to give the message in my ownway, for I could not keep silent, lest, through fault of mine, any ofmy sheep should perish. So I preached upon the Saint of the day, whowas pre-eminently a man of peace, and I took occasion to tell mypeople that there were many hurtful men about, who, like their master, Satan, were seeking whom they might devour, and that, like thatmaster, they chose the night for their misdeeds, seeing they loveddarkness rather than light. So I said I hoped every good Christianwould keep at home, and go to bed early. 

At this point I observed a sarcastic smile upon many faces, notably onthose of the black sheep aforesaid, to whom the sheriff had spoken, and I concluded that they were very likely to be the ministers ofdarkness themselves. So I spoke on the Christian duties of love andforgiveness, and exhorted all present to take joyfully thechastisement of the Lord, even like holy Job; and that it would alltend to their eternal good, through Him who, when He was reviled, reviled not again. And so with this exhortation to patience I closedmy homily. I fear I spoke to many in vain. 

I am sure they are bent on immediate mischief, and that this notice ofthe sheriff has much to do with it. He wants to keep good people athome to have all the field to himself. I see him--the blackbellwether. 

After mass I mingled with the dispersing congregation. The weather wasvery gloomy--the faces of the congregation yet more so. All seemed toapprehend coming evil. Instead of returning cheerfully home they stoodtogether in groups, talking in low tones, as if they feared to speaktheir thoughts aloud. 

Most of them evidently were men of peace, but not all, as I havealready hinted; and, as I drew near a group standing behind the greatyew tree, I heard one of these latter discoursing to his fellows. 

"Heard you the prior's sermon?" said Siric, for that was the fellow, Siric of the Wold; "a fine homily he gave us on St. Brice--that manof peace. "

"It was easy for him to be a man of peace, " returned another; "hehadn't got Danes for his neighbours. "

"Holy Job himself would have turned cutthroat if he had. "

"Then they have been insulting, robbing, and murdering all over thecountry. "

Just then I interrupted them, for I could no longer hear theblasphemy. 

"How now, Siric, " said I; "hast thou come to Aescendune to revile thesaints?"

"Nay, Father, " said he, with a mocking smile; "I was only rejoicingthat they were not exposed to such trials as we. Job's Chaldeans weregentlefolk in comparison with our Danes. "

"Thou blasphemest; and what didst thou say of the blessed St. Brice?"

"Only that I wished he were living now to tame the cutthroats who livein our midst, and who murder and rob daily, just in mere sport, or tokeep their hands in. "

"What new outrages have occurred?" I asked. 

"A party of the heathen carried off the cattle from my farm down thewater early this morning, and slew the herdsman. "

"Dost thou know who the fellows were?"

"All too well; they were Anlaf's men. "

I hardly knew what to answer, the outrage was so recent, and theexcitement of the speaker so pardonable, as I could but feel. 

Well, at this moment my brother Elfwyn came out of the church, wherehe had lingered to pray, as he generally does, at his brother's tomb, and, noticing us, came and joined the group. He seemed much concernedwhen he heard the details. 

"Siric, " he said, with his usual kind way of speaking, "do notdistress yourself unduly; you know I am rich in flocks and herds. Iwill make up the loss of the cattle, my brother the prior will have amass said for poor Guthred, and he shall have the last rites performedat our expense; it is all we can do for him; the rest we must leave tothe mercy of God. "

"Nay, Thane, " said Siric; "I thank you for your goodwill, but I maynot stand thus indebted to any man. I will repay myself at the expenseof the robbers. Still you may remember Guthred at God's altar. "

And he strode away. 

My brother was now joined by his children Bertric and Ethelgiva, andhis wife, the Lady Hilda. I saw that he was ill at ease, but we didnot mention the subject, which I am sure was uppermost in both ourminds, lest we should alarm the gentle ones. 

Just then I remembered that I had promised to meet Alfgar in the pinewood, and I hastened to the spot. 

I found him seated again on the fallen tree. He rose at my approach, and saluted me with some emotion, as if some inward excitement madeitself visible in spite of his efforts to suppress it. 

"My son, " said I, "have you pondered my words of last Sunday?"

"I have, and I am come to put myself under your instruction. I will beguided by you in all things, and fulfil thus the dying wish of theonly being who ever loved me. "

"But, my boy, there must be yet a higher, a holier motive. "

"I trust it is not wanting, my father. "

"Are you able to stay long today?"

"O yes, my father is keeping high festival; a number of his countrymenare visiting him and holding revel; this morning they drove in anumber of oxen, I know not whence, and slaughtered two on the spot, and they have broached several barrels of mead; they will keep thefeast all day, and before night my father will not be in a state tomiss me; I always absent myself if I can on such occasions. "

"Then you must come home with me, and share the noon meat, after whichI can give you my time until evensong. "

He made no objection, and we returned to the Priory together, where hetook his noon meat in the guest chamber, and I devoted all the timebetween the meal and nones to an examination of my catechumen. 

I found that poor Kyneswith had impressed all the primary truths ofour holy faith deeply upon his mind, although he wanted much buildingup, and needed instruction in details; he seemed deeply impressed bythe main facts of the life and teaching of our blessed Lord, particularly His message of peace on earth, good will towards men, contrasting so forcibly with the faith of his own people. 

The time passed rapidly away, and we went to the minster church atthree, when nones and evensong were said together, for we could notkeep the people till the proper hour for the latter office, owing tothe darkness of November. 

When the holy office was over, I accompanied my brother part of theway home, for I wanted to communicate my suspicions, and to learnwhether he shared them. 

It was a dark and gloomy eventide: the sun, which had only made itsappearance at intervals during the day, was fast sinking behind aheavy bank of clouds which filled the western horizon; and the wind, which was freshening to a gale, seemed to bear the storm onward in itstrack, while it tore the few surviving leaves rudely from the trees, and whirled them in mazy windings. 

"Elfwyn, " said I, "what do you suppose was the true object of thesheriff in bidding folks keep indoors tonight?"

"I cannot divine, unless he has some deed of blood on hand which hewishes to have undisturbed, all to himself and his underlings. "

"Siric spoke mysteriously. "

"Yes; if there is aught going on amiss, he has a hand in it. "

Here I communicated my fears respecting Alfgar, whom I had invited, with my brother's permission, to sup at the hall. 

"Could you not keep the poor fellow with you all night? I fear hisfather is in some danger, as well he may be, acting as wickedly as hedid this very morn. "

"I will try to persuade him to stay, he is along with Bertric andEthelgiva; they are only a few steps behind. Cuthbert, I have orderedevery one of my theows and ceorls to be obedient to your warning ifthey wish to preserve their allegiance to Aescendune, or to escapechastisement, and I think none of them are likely to be abroadtonight. "

"Can you not find out what the sheriff has told them? I saw himspeaking to one or two. "

"I will try. You must be my guest tonight, or at least for a fewhours. "

"Nay, I must return to compline; I may be wanted tonight, and ought tobe at my post, " said I. 

We arrived at the old home, dear familiar place! stronger and betterbuilt than most such houses, because, being burnt down in my father'syounger days, it had been rebuilt in a more substantial manner, andwas capable of sustaining a formidable attack successfully. 

We crossed the drawbridge, and entered the courtyard under thegateway; before us was the door of the great hall, merrily illuminedby its blazing fire. 

There, then, was the supper table bountifully spread, and the theowsand ceorls awaiting the arrival of their lord. We entered, Elfwyn andI, and soon after Bertric, Ethelgiva, and Alfgar followed. 

A loud horn was blown upon the battlements. Stragglers made theirentrance good; the drawbridge was drawn up, the doors closed, and Iblessed the meat. 

CHAPTER III. THE NIGHT OF ST. BRICE. 

Monday, November 14th, 1002. --

I hardly know how to write the events of last night, my pen almostrefuses to begin. I feel thoroughly sickened by the very remembranceof the bloodshed and treachery which have disgraced Christian England, and which will assuredly bring down God's judgment upon us. 

But I will do violence to myself, and will write all thingsaccurately, in order it may serve to show that there were thoseamongst us who were not consenting parties, who entered not into thecounsels of those men of blood, whom may God "reward after theirdeeds, and according to the wickedness of their own inventions. "

Well, to begin. When supper was ended at the hall last night, mybrother bade his wife and children seek their bower, and Alfgar wentwith them; then he addressed his people with that confidence andaffection he not only shows in his outward speech, but really feels inhis heart. 

"Are all the folk present within the gates?" he asked. 

"We are all here, my lord, " replied they; "none have been wanting intheir duty. "

"It is well; and now, my people, I ask you, whom I have ever trusted, and to whom I have tried to be a friend as well as a master, have youany of you a suspicion what the sheriff is about tonight, and why hedesired the prior to tell good Christians to keep within doors?"

There was a dead silence. At last one of the ceorls rose up, and spokewith some hesitation:

"I think, my lord, that they intend to avenge themselves upon the Danefolk. "

"Did they say anything about it to you or any other of my people?"

"Yes; they tried to get two or three of us to join in the work, butwhen they found we would do nothing without your knowledge, they toldus no more. "

"Then you do not know what is the exact work they have in hand?"

"No. But I heard something which made me think that plunder andmassacre were both likely to be committed. "

"Did you hear any particular names mentioned?"

"Yes. That of Anlaf. "

"This explains Siric's insolence, Cuthbert. "

"It does, " I replied. 

"But surely they cannot intend to do anything tonight. They would notchoose Sunday for a deed of darkness. Men who have attended massduring the day, surely would not so forget their God as to go throughthe country like cowardly wolves, pulling down the prey in companywhich they dare not attack singly. "

"I should hope the same; but then the looks and words of today, " saidI. 

"Did they say what authority they had for their projected scheme?"

"They dared to say, " replied the ceorl who had before spoken, "theyhad the sanction of the king. "

There was again a painful silence. We groaned in the bitterness of ourhearts--O Ethelred, son of Edgar, hast thou forgotten all truth andmercy?--thou, the son of Edgar the Magnanimous?

Every impulse of our hearts led us to detest the cruel deed oftreachery about to be consummated, but which we could not prevent. 

At least there was one whom we could save from the generaldestruction, the young Alfgar, and we determined to detain him ifpossible by persuasion, keeping the truth from him, but in any case todetain him at the hall during the night. 

I could not remain at the hall myself, for, on such a night, it seemednecessary to be with my own people, and to be ready to seize anyopportunity of saving the effusion of blood, or of giving protectionto any who might seek refuge under the shelter of our roof, wheremurder would be sacrilege, a consideration of some importance whereChristians, shame to say, were the murderers. 

But before I went my brother and I sent to Alfgar that we might speakto him, and prevail upon him to stay with us the night. 

"Alfgar, " said Elfwyn, "the night is very stormy and blustering, andwe wish you to remain with us, and share our hospitality till themorn. Your father will not miss you?"

"I do not think he will; for after one of these debauches he generallysleeps far into the next day. But the domestic serfs may remark myabsence. "

"There is another reason, my boy, why we wish you to stay. Wild menwho hate your father's race are abroad, and did you fall into theirhands while returning home it might fare hard with you. "

"I can imagine that. I marked the looks they cast upon me in God'shouse, even there, this day. They cannot forgive me my Danish blood, although my mother was one of themselves, and a Christian. "

"They have suffered much, my lad; and suffering, as is often the case, has blunted their feelings. But you will stay with us, will you not?"

"I will stay; many thanks for your kindness. "

After this I had nothing further to detain me at the castle, so I leftfor the priory. 

It was a black dark night. The violence of the wind almost lifted mefrom my feet; not a star could be seen but occasionally a sharphailstorm pelted down. Glad was I, although the distance was notgreat, to see the lights of the priory, and to dry my chilled limbsand wet garments before the fire in the common room while I told mybrethren the tidings of the night, and the suspicions which weentertained. 

When I had finished there was a dead pause, during which the howlingblast without, as it dashed the hail against the casement, seemed afitting accompaniment to our sombre thoughts. 

The compline bell rang. 

This office is always full of heavenly comfort, but there seemed aspecial meaning tonight in one verse--"A thousand shall fall besidethee, and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nighthee. "

Yet the thousands were heavy on our hearts, and I meditated some meansof carrying tidings of their danger to our pagan neighbours; but Iknew nothing of the details of the plot, only that there was a plot, and I knew that if I sent a brother, the Danes, in their hatred tomonks, would probably set their huge dogs at him before he couldspeak, and perhaps worry him to death. Neither could any othermessenger approach their dwellings safely at night. 

I tried to hope, but against reason, that we had perhaps exaggeratedthe danger. Still, after the compline was over, we sat in deliberationa long time in the hall. The novices and lay brothers, ignorant of theperil, had retired to rest; but we, who knew the portentous state ofthings around us, could not have slept had we retired. Ever and anonwe looked forth from doors and windows into the black darknesswithout; but although it was near midnight, neither sight nor soundtold of aught amiss, and we were beginning to yield to fatigue, when Iascended the tower in company with Father Adhelm, to survey the scenefor the last time. It was so windy that we could hardly stand upon theleaded roof, and although we gazed around, nought met our eyes untilwe were on the point of returning. 

"Listen!" said Father Adhelm, the subprior. 

It was unnecessary. Borne upon the wind, a loud noise, as of men whoshout for mastery, met our ears, followed or intermingled with criesfor help or mercy--so we fancied at least. 

While we stood rooted by horror to the spot, a bright light arose, which rapidly increased, as a conflagration well might in such a wind, and soon the whole horizon was illuminated. I knew but one homesteadin that direction--the fortified house of Anlaf. 

I thought of the poor boy, with thankfulness that we had restrainedhim from returning home. He is saved, at least, thought I, as a brandfrom the burning. 

The other brethren joined us, and after a short consultation, wedetermined to go to the scene in a body, to mitigate the rage of thepeople, and save life where we could. 

So, putting our cowls over our heads, we sallied forth into the blacknight--black and dark save where the light of the fire illumined thehorizon, and even cast a faint ray upon our own path. We were not usedto journeys in such weather, and I am afraid we made very slowprogress, but it was not for want of good will. The fire grew brighterand brighter as we proceeded, and the shouts louder and louder. Weknew that Anlaf had a party of his countrymen, all of them obnoxiousto the English, and could easily understand that they had collectedthemselves together for their own destruction. Yet, when we lookedaround, we perceived by the blood-red reflection in the skies at otherpoints, that the same ruthless task was being carried out in many adistant spot, as well as close at hand. 

Reaching the bank of the river, we directed our course along its banksuntil the dark forest closed in upon us, and rapid progress becamedifficult. The trees were all rocking wildly in the wind, and here andthere a severed branch fell down before us. Occasionally a gust ofrain and hail descended. The path was wet and slippery. Poor FatherAdhelm groaned aloud. He had the podagra, (or gout), and ought not tohave ventured forth; but zeal would not let him rest. 

"Verily our path is hedged about with thorns. It is hard to kickagainst the pricks, " said the chamberlain. 

"It is God's work, " said I, "and we may not falter. "

Yet I felt my own heart weak. 

But for the red light, which shone even through the shade of theforest, we could not have pursued our path. But plainer and plainerthe wind brought the fierce shouts of the assailants to our ears, until, emerging from a dark belt of underwood, the whole horror of thescene burst upon us. 

Before us, at the distance of a few hundred yards, defended by a moundand a ditch, rose the irregular and fortified dwelling of Anlaf. Itwas wrapped in flames from top to basement, and even as we looked oneof the towers gave way, and fell upon the hall beneath, with hideousdin, in headlong ruin. 

Around the blazing pile stood some two or three hundred men, whocompletely encircled it, and who had doubtless prevented the escape ofthe inmates. We were evidently too late; the passive attitude of theassailants showed that their bloody work was done. 

We learned afterwards that the domestics, who were English serfs, hadbetrayed the place to the foe, while the Danish lords were revellingin the great hall, and half drunk with wine. Surprised at the banquet, they fell an easy prey, and were slaughtered almost withoutresistance, after which the house was plundered of everything worthcarrying away, and then set on fire in every part. Further details wecould not gather. All was over when we arrived. 

Full of indignation, I and my brethren advanced straight upon thegroup surrounding the sheriff, the crafty and cruel Edric Streorn, andin the name of God denounced the cruelty and sin of which they hadbeen guilty. 

"Sir monk, " was the reply, "are you traitor to your king that you thusleague yourself with his deadly enemies? All that is done this nightis done by his order. "

"God will avenge the deed, " said I. "Ye have not fought like men, butcrept on like serpents, and slain those who, trusting to the faith ofChristians, dwelt blindly in our midst. And now, what can we say? Howcan we hope to win our foes to God and Christ when we set at naughthis precepts and despise his example?"

"Sir monk, I have not time to listen to a homily; keep it for nextSunday, when I will try to attend. For the present--"

Here he was interrupted by a loud cry which arose near us. 

"The wolf cub! the wolf cub! Slay him, and the work is complete. "

The cry, "Slay him! slay him!" was taken up by a dozen voices, when Irecognised Alfgar, who by some means had learned the danger of hiskinsfolk, and had come to share their fate. 

"Save him, sheriff!" I cried; "save him! He is a Christian. His motherwas English. "

And I rushed forward myself, and saw that the poor lad had alreadybeen brought on his knees by more than one fell stroke. 

I held up the crucifix, which hung at my girdle, on high; I threw myarm over his head, and abjured them under the name of Christ, and asthey feared the curse of the Church, to forbear. My brethren all aidedme. 

Sullenly they dropped their weapons, and the sheriff, coming forward, seconded me, although in a very contemptuous manner. 

"Let him have the lad for his share of the night's work, " he said. 

And so God gave me the poor lad's life. 

I had scarcely time to lay him on a sloping bank, where the lightwhich shone so luridly from his burning home might fall upon him, whenmy brother Elfwyn appeared on the scene with a score of his men. 

He recognised us by our habits, and came and looked with me at theorphan as he lay on the bank. The boy had received no serious wound, but was exhausted, as much I thought by the violence of his emotionsas by his injuries. He was wet through; his clothes were torn withbrambles, for he had followed a straight path through six miles oftangled forest, from Aescendune. 

They had unfortunately given him a bed in a chamber which lookedtowards his home: he had chanced to wake, had looked from the window, seen the flames, and had started thither at once, swimming the moatwhen he could not cross the drawbridge--suspecting, doubtless, that hewas surrounded by treachery. 

I had already poured a rich cordial down his throat, and he was comingto himself, my brother aiding me, when the sheriff, grand in his robeand chain of office, came up. 

"Good day, or rather night, to you, Thane of Aescendune, " said he toElfwyn; "we have had a fair night's work, and destroyed a big wasp'snest; have you come for your share in the spoil?"

"I only ask permission to preserve life; your work has been of anopposite nature. "

"Yes, we have been obedient to our king, and avenged him this night ofhis enemies, who are also, I should have thought, the enemies of theChurch. "

"God will not bless midnight murder, " said I. 

"Murder! it is not murder to slay heathen Danes; had they beenChristians it would, of course, have been a different thing. "

"He hath made of one blood all the nations of the earth, " I replied. 

"The good prior wishes me to talk theology. Unfortunately I have muchwork to do; you will hear tidings soon of other Danish holds thanthis. The land may rejoice, freed from her oppressors, and they whoblame our work will praise its results. "

"That remains to be seen, " we both replied. 

We had, meanwhile, placed Alfgar, now partially recovered, on apalfrey; and, supported by my brother and me, one on each side, we ledhim homewards. Arrived at the castle, we gave him to the care ofOsred, the domestic physician. He looked at the patient, andpronounced a favourable opinion, saying that with time and care allwould be well. But his left arm was broken, and he had received aslight blow on the head. Fever was the leech's chief apprehension; ifhe could keep that off, he said he doubted not all would be well. 

St. Andrew's Day. --

Our patient has lain some time in a state of delirium, whereat no onecould wonder. In his ravings he was incessantly acting over the scenesthrough which he had passed during the dreadful night which followedSt. Brice's Day. But, thanks to a good constitution, today he hastaken a favourable turn, and seems likely to recover from a blow whichwould have hopelessly shattered a frailer frame. 

I was seated by his couch when he seemed to awake out of sleep, and Isaw his bright dark eyes fixed inquiringly on me. 

"Where am I?" he inquired. 

"In the Hall of Aescendune; you have been very ill here. "

"Indeed! I have had such dreadful dreams!--but were they all dreams?"

"Your mind has been wandering for days, my dear son. You must not talktoo much. "

He was silent, but evidently pondered more. 

December 25, Christmas Day, 1003. {iv}--

All the household has given itself up to joy and gladness; even poorAlfgar, who has been released today from the confinement of hischamber, has entered into the general joy, although ever and anonrelapsing into sadness. 

He knows all now: a day or two agone, when all the household had goneto hunt in the woods, I was alone with him in his chamber, and thoughtthat at last I must discharge the painful task of telling him thetruth. 

"My boy, " I said, "you have not lately inquired about your father. "

He looked at me very sadly. 

"I know all, " he said, "that you would tell me. I have no father, nomother, no kinsfolk. "

"Some of our people have told you then?"

"No. At first the events of that fearful night seemed all like adream, and mingled themselves with the strange spectres which hauntedme in delirium; but afterwards the real separated itself from theunreal, and I knew that my father and all his friends, my Danishuncles amongst them, had perished with the whole household assembledthere that fatal day. I also remembered, but faintly, how I came here. Did not you save me from the murderers?"

I briefly explained the whole circumstances to him, adding such wordsof consolation as I could think of, and telling him that he mustalways look upon Aescendune as his home. At length he rose. He had notreplied. 

"Pardon me, my father, " he said, "but may I retire to my chamber? Iwish to say much, but I am too weak now. "

"Meanwhile, you will not leave us?"

"I have no other home. "

And he retired to his little chamber, from which he emerged no moretoday. 

Feast of the Epiphany. --

This day my catechumen Alfgar was baptized in the priory church. Itseemed useless to delay longer, as he was fully prepared bothintellectually and spiritually, nay, has been so for some time, onlythe tragic event which deprived him of his Danish kinsfolk haddistracted him for a time from spiritual things. Nay, had he not beensurrounded by real Christians and loving friends here at Aescendune, Ifear the Church would have lost him altogether. Such a commentary wasthe massacre of St. Brice on the Christian doctrine of love andforgiveness! He felt it grievously at first, but he was able at lengthto distinguish between men that say they are of Christ, and are not, and those who really set the example of that Lord and his Saintsbefore them. He is now one of ourselves; a sheep safe in the fold, andthe dying wish of his sainted mother is fulfilled. My brother intendsto adopt him as a son, and as his family is small, the proposal meetsmy approbation. Bertric and Ethelgiva already love him as a brother. 

CHAPTER IV. THE DANES IN WESSEX. 

Up to this period we have availed ourselves of extracts from the Diaryof Father Cuthbert; but the events of the following four years, asrecorded in that record, although full of interest for the antiquarianor the lover of monastic lore, would possess scant interest for thegeneral reader, and have also little connection with the course of ourtale; therefore we will convey the information they contain, whichproperly pertains to our subject, in few words, and those our own, returning occasionally to the Diary. 

The melancholy history of the times may be compressed, from theAnglo-Saxon Chronicle and other sources, in a few paragraphs. 

Burning with revenge--for his own sister had fallen in the massacre onSt. Brice's night--Sweyn returned to England the following year(1003). He landed in Devonshire, took Exeter by storm, and returned tohis ships laden with the spoil. Then he sailed eastward, landed againand ravaged Dorset and Wiltshire. Here the ealdorman Elfric met himwith a large English army; but when he saw the foe he fell sick, orfeigned to be so; and then the old proverb came true, "When thegeneral fails, the army quails. " So the English looked on with fearand trembling, while Sweyn burnt Wilton and Salisbury, whence hereturned to the sea laden with wealth and stained with blood; yet wasnot his revenge satisfied. 

The following year East Anglia suffered as Wessex had suffered theyear before. Ulfketyl, the ealdorman, gave them much money, hoping tobuy peace from the merciless pagans. The result was as he might haveexpected. They took the money, laughing at his simplicity, and threeweeks afterwards pillaged Thetford, and burnt it. Then Ulfketyl, whowas a brave man, got an East Anglian army together, and fought theDanes, giving them the uncommon chastisement of a defeat, so that theyescaped with difficulty to their ships. 

The following year a famine so severe visited England, that even theDanes forebore to ravage so poor a land; but in 1006, the next year, they overspread Wessex like locusts. Here the action of our tale isresumed. 

During this interval of four years in Aescendune there had been peace. Alfgar had been domesticated as one of the family, and was reportedwell of in all the neighbourhood. Diligent in the discharge of hisreligious duties, he was equally conspicuous in all warlike sports andexercises and in the chase, while he afforded much help to Elfwyn thethane in the management of the estate. In short, he had won his way tothe hearts of all the family; and perhaps the report that he was theaccepted suitor of the fair daughter of Aescendune, Ethelgiva, was notwithout foundation. 

Ethelgiva was nearly his own age, and was a perfect type of thatbeauty which has ever distinguished the women of the Anglo-Saxon race. Her fair hair, untouched by artificial adornment, hung like a showerof gold around her shoulders, while her eyes were of that delicateblue which seemed to reflect the deep summer sky; but the sweetpensive expression of her face was that which attracted nearly all whoknew her, and made her the object of general regard. 

Bertric was now about sixteen--a handsome, attractive boy, full oflife and fire, yet still possessing that devotion which FatherCuthbert had remarked in him as a boy of twelve. As the heir to thelands of Aescendune, and the only son, he would have been in muchdanger of being spoiled had he been less genuine and manly than hewas. He and Alfgar were inseparable; they seemed to revive again thetraditional love of Nisus and Euryalus, or Orestes and Pylades. 

The famine, which had made Wessex too poor even to serve as a bait forthe Danes, had also afflicted Mercia, but not nearly so severely, andthe generosity of the family of Aescendune had been exerted to theutmost on behalf of the sufferers. 

But the spring of the year 1006 bade fair to atone for the past. Itwas bright and balmy. May was just such a month as the poets love tosing, and June, rich in its promise of fruit, had passed when theevents we are about to relate occurred. At this time there was somehope amongst the people that God had at length heard the petitionbreathed so often in the penitential wail of the Litany--"From thecruelty of our pagan enemies, good Lord, deliver us"--and they forgotthat the massacre on St. Brice's night yet cried for vengeance. 

It was a fine summer's evening towards the end of the month of July, and the sun was slowly setting behind the wood-crowned range of hillsin the west, where the forest terminated the pastures of Aescendune;the cattle were returning to their stalls; the last load of hay wasbeing transferred from the wain to the rick, and all things spoke ofthe calm and rest of a sweet night, fragrant with the breath ofhoneysuckle and wild brier, when nature herself seems to courtluxurious repose. 

The priory bell was tolling for compline, and thither many of thepeople, released from their labour, were wending their way. The Thaneand his children, accompanied by Alfgar, paused on their homewardroad, and when the drowsy tinkling ceased, deep silence seemed to fallover the landscape, while the night darkened--if darkness it could becalled when the moonbeams succeeded to the fiercer light of theglowing orb of day. 

The Lady Hilda was at the window of her bower, slightly indisposed;she had not gone down to the priory, but sat inhaling the richfragrance of the night as the gentle breeze wafted it from a thousandflowers. Star after star peeped out; one sweet-voiced nightingalebegan her song, trilling through the air; another enviously took upthe strain. Hilda thought the earth had never seemed so much likeheaven, and she imagined the tuneful birds sang their vesper song inunion with the monks, whose solemn and plaintive chant awoke theechoes of the priory church. Her heart was full of solemn yet not sadthoughts; peace, sweet peace, was the subject of her meditations, andshe thought with gratitude of Him who had hitherto preserved Merciafrom the foe, who had indeed for nearly two years ceased to molestEngland. 

But as she gazed, her attention was attracted to a light on theopposite hills. It was a fire of some kind, and rose up more and morefiercely each moment. It was but a bonfire in appearance, yet itmarred both the landscape and the meditative rest of the gazer. 

The party from the hall were returning home from the church. 

"Father, " said Bertric, "look at that light! Is it not singular? Inever saw one there before. "

But even while they looked another fire appeared in an oppositedirection, and Bertric saw his father turn grave. 

"It is the beacon fire, " said he seriously. 

"Yes it is, and see it is answered from the hills to the north, " saidAlfgar. 

Then they were silent, and Bertric felt his spirits sink with a vaguekind of apprehension. They said no more till they reached home, andthe whole family met, much later than usual, at the evening meal. 

"You are late, " said Hilda to her lord. 

"We were returning home from the meadows on the water, whence the lastload of hay has been carried, and we tarried for the compline at thepriory. The bell sounded as we were passing. "

"Did you see the bonfire on the hills? It must be a large one. "

"I did; and it made me uneasy. "

"Why so, my Elfwyn?"

"You forget that when the last invasion of our pagan foes was over, itwas agreed in the Witan that a set of beacons should be prepared, inreadiness to fire, on the tops of the hills, and that if the Danesappeared again, they should be fired everywhere, in which case Merciawas to hold herself in readiness to come to the aid of Wessex or EastAnglia, whichever the foe might be harrying. "

"But then that was eighteen months agone. "

"Still the beacon piles remain or did remain. I saw one at the summitof the hills which the trackway crosses between our county andOxfordshire, when I last returned form Beranbyrig {v}, and I thinkthat one gives the present alarm. It means the Danes are again in theland. "

"Now, God forbid!" said Hilda, with clasped hands. 

"Amen say we all; but I fear me such will be the case, unless somepoor fool has set the pile blazing for amusement. I fancied I saw itanswered away north and west. We will go and see anon. "

Supper being ended, Elfwyn rose to go out, and his example wasfollowed by Alfgar and Bertric, and several of the serfs, who from thelower end of the ample board had heard with much alarm the previousconversation. 

Ascending the hill, they directed their steps towards the highestpoint, where an old watchtower had once been reared, composed oftimber, and overlooking the forest. 

From the summit the party gazed over three or four counties lyingdimly beneath them in the still moonlight. 

The mist, slowly rising from the river and forest, partially obscuredthe immediate view, and hid the valley beneath in smoke-like wreaths;but the distant hills rose above. There three large fires immediatelycaught the eye, and confirmed the apprehensions. One was on the summitof the range culminating on the spot now known as Edgehill, lyingabout ten miles south; but on the west Malvern Heights had caught theflame, and on the far north the Leicestershire hills sent forth theirreddening fire in more than one spot. 

"The country has taken the alarm, " said the Thane. 

"What must we do, father?"

"Summon and arm all our vassals, and await the sheriff's orders; theking will communicate to us through him. We know not yet where thedanger is. "

"Perhaps it is only a false alarm, " said Bertric. 

"God grant it; but I dare not hope as much. "

Alfgar was very silent. Well he might be. The enemy dreaded was hisown kith and kin; and although all his sympathies were with hisEnglish friends, from whom he had received more kindness and love thanhe had ever known elsewhere, yet he seemed to feel compromised by thedeeds of his kindred, whose savage cruelty no Christianity had as yetsoftened. 

While they yet remained on the hill, fire after fire took up the taleand reddened the horizon, until a score of those baleful bonfires werein sight. Sighing deeply, Elfwyn led the way down the hill. 

"What have you seen?" was the inquiry of the Lady Hilda. 

"The hills flame with beacons. "

"Alas for poor Wessex!"

"Alas for England! I have a foreboding that we shall not always beexempt from the woes which affect our neighbours. Wessex scarcelytempts the plunderer now; neither does East Anglia. Northumbria ishalf Danish, and kites do not peck out kites' eyes. No; on Mercia, poor Mercia, the blow must sooner or later fall. "

"And how to avert it?"

"There is but one way; we must fight the foe in Wessex. Now we mustrest, to rise early, and await the sheriff's summons. "

It was silent, deep night; the whole house was buried in slumber, whenAlfgar dreamed a strange dream. He thought he stood amidst the ruinsof his home, the home of his father Anlaf, and that he heard stepsapproaching from the forest. Soon a solitary figure emerged, andsearched anxiously amongst the fallen and blackened walls, utteringone anxious ejaculation, "My son! I seek my son!" and Alfgar knew hisfather. Their eyes met, recognition took place, and he awoke with sucha keen impression of his father's presence that he could not shake itoff for a long time. 

"Do the dead indeed revisit earth?" he said. "Nay, it was but adream. "

He went to the narrow window of his chamber, and looked out. The dawnwas already breaking in the east, and even as he gazed upon thepurpling skies the birds began their matin songs of praise, and thevalley awoke. The priory bell, beneath, by the riverside, now tolledits summons to matins, and Alfgar arose and dressed. 

Never did the household of Aescendune begin the day without religiousobservance, and the first thing that they did on this, as on everyday, was to repair to the priory church, where Father Cuthbert saidmass; after which he and his brother the Thane were closeted togetherfor a long time. 

The rest of the party returned home to break their fast, and conversedabout the warnings of the preceding night. 

While they were still at their meal, Bertric, who sat near a window, cried out, "I see a horseman coming from Warwick. "

The panting steed was soon reined up in front of the drawbridge, whichwas down as usual; and, passing beneath the arched gate, the riderdismounted in the courtyard. 

All the household were soon assembled to hear his news. He bore asealed missive addressed to the Thane; but he gave the secret of thenight's alarm in a few words. 

"They are in Wessex, plundering, murdering, and burning. The forcesare all to meet at Dorchester as soon as man and horse can get there. "

"Where did they land?"

"The great fleet came to Sandwich, and they are advancing westward asfast as they can come. "

"Are they merciless as ever?"

"Worse. "

"The fiends!" said Bertric bitterly; and then seeing Alfgar's saddenedface, said, "Oh, I beg pardon, " which made matters worse. 

"You are not a Dane, Alfgar; you are a Christian; no one thinks of youas one. "

Shortly Elfwyn returned from the priory, and received the messenger. The sealed packet only contained a formal summons to the generalrendezvous of the forces, which was to take place at Dorchester, theepiscopal city of the great Midland diocese, and situated in a centralposition, where Wessex and Mercia could easily unite the flower oftheir youth. 

All the necessary preparations for departure were shortly made--thetheows and ceorls were collected together, beasts of burden selectedto carry the necessary baggage, the wallets filled with provisions. 

Before the third hour of the day all had been done which the simplehabits of the time required, and only the sorrowful leave takingsremained. Husbands had to bid the last goodbye--it might be the verylast--to their spouses, sons to their aged parents, fathers to theirchildren. And then there was hurrying to and fro, as of people onlyhalf conscious of what they did; while the warriors strove to smileand preserve their fortitude. 

But alas! there were no traditions of victory to encourage them; onlygloomy remembrances of defeat; and, but for the stern call of dutywhich bade them, as men and Christians, go to the succour of theirbrethren, the majority would have preferred to remain at home andabide the worst, although they knew full well that submission utterlyfailed to mitigate the ferocious cruelty of their oppressors, who slewalike the innocent babe and the grey-haired grandsire. 

Alfgar had volunteered to share the perils of his adopted lord, butwas kindly told that it would be inexpedient. Indeed, by many he wouldhave been suspected of treachery. 

"Nay, Alfgar, remain at home; to you I commend the protection of myhome, of the Lady Hilda, and our children, " said Elfwyn. 

Neither were Bertric's prayers to be allowed to share his father'sperils any better received. He was bidden to remain where he was, andto be a good son to his mother--not that he had ever been otherwise. 

And so the last sad words of adieu were spoken as bravely as might be, and the little troop, about fifty in number, departed from the hall. They crossed the rude wooden bridge, and took the southern road. 

Their loved ones watched them until the last. They saw their warriorscast many a longing lingering look behind, and then the woodland hidthem from sight; and a dread quiet came down upon Aescendune, as whenthe air is still before the coming hurricane. 

CHAPTER V. THE TRACKS IN THE FOREST. 

It was a long time before any news of the warriors reached home; forin those days the agony of suspense had always to be endured in theabsence of posts and telegrams; but after a few weeks a specialmessenger came from the army. He was one of the Aescendune people, andhis was the great privilege of embracing wife and family once more erereturning to the perils of the field. 

His news was brief. The forces of Mercia had been placed under thecommand of Edric, formerly the sheriff of the county in whichAescendune lay, but long since returned to court, where his smoothtongue gained him great wealth and high rank. Gifted with a subtlegenius and persuasive eloquence, he had obtained a complete ascendencyover the mind of the weak Ethelred, while he surpassed even thattreacherous monarch in perfidy and cruelty. 

Under his direction that unhappy king had again and again embrued hishands in innocent blood. This very year they had both given a proof ofthese tendencies worth recording. 

Edric had conceived a hatred against the Ealdorman Elfhelm, which hecarefully concealed. He invited that unfortunate lord to a banquet atShrewsbury, where he welcomed him as his intimate friend. On the thirdor fourth day of the feast he took him to hunt in a wood where he hadprepared an ambuscade, and while all the rest were engaged in thechase, the common hangman of Shrewsbury, one Godwin "port hund, " orthe town's hound, bribed by Edric to commit the crime, sprang frombehind a bush, and foully assassinated the innocent ealdorman. Not tobe behind his favourite in cruelty, Ethelred caused the two sons ofthe unfortunate Elfhelm to be brought to him at Corsham, near Bath, where he was then residing, and he ordered their eyes to be put out. 

Such was the man to whom the destinies of the English army were nowconfided, and such the king who ruled the unhappy land--cruel as hewas cowardly. 

Under such leaders it is no marvel that the messenger Ulric had nogood news to tell. The army had assembled, and had marched after theDanes, whose policy for the present was to avoid a pitched battle, andto destroy their enemies in detail. So they were continually harassingthe English forces, but avoiding every occasion of fair fight. Did theEnglish march to a town under the impression the Danes were about toattack it, they found no foe, but heard the next day that somemiserable district at a distance had been cruelly ravaged. Did theylie in ambush, the Danes took another road. Meanwhile the Englishstragglers were repeatedly cut off; and did they despatch a smallforce anywhere, it was sure to fall into an ambush, and be annihilatedby the pagans. 

Their repeated disasters weakened every man's heart, and gave rise toa well-founded belief that there was treachery in their midst, andthat plans decided even in their secret councils were made known tothe Danes. What wonder, then, that they grew dispirited, and thatmurmurs arose on all hands, while the army could scarcely keeptogether for want of provisions?

The war was at present raging in the southern counties, but ever andanon the marauders made a forced march, and sacked some helpless townremote from the seat of war. 

There was no prospect, Elfwyn said, of the campaign coming to an end;the harvest must take care of itself or the women and children mustreap it. The men were all and more than all, wanted in Wessex. 

There were loving messages for wife and children, and Alfgar was notforgotten. 

But there was one piece of information contained in the letter whichmade Alfgar very uneasy, and reminded him of his dream. 

One Boom, a retainer of Elfwyn, had been taken prisoner by the Danes, and by a very uncommon piece of good fortune had escaped with lifefrom his ferocious captors. He stated that he had been closelyexamined concerning his home, character of the population, and theirmeans of defence, especially as to the events of St. Brice's night. Although he strove to evade their questions, yet he incautiously, orthrough fear of torture, revealed that he came from Aescendune. 

The name evoked immediate interest, and he was asked several furtherquestions about the destruction of Anlaf's house, and what became ofhis son. He tried to baffle their inquiries, and thought he hadsucceeded. 

These facts the Lady Hilda thought of sufficient importance to justifytheir communication to Alfgar. They caused her some anxiety. 

The messenger returned to the army. Weeks passed away, and the womenand children, as well as the old men, were all busy in getting in thebounteous harvest with which this year God had blessed the earth. Alfgar and Bertric worked like the theows themselves, and slowly theprecious gifts were deposited in the garners. 

Alfgar had one source of consolation in the love he bore to Ethelgiva, a love which was fully returned. Their troth had been pledged to eachother with the full consent of Elfwyn and the Lady Hilda; and on thosefine August nights, as they walked home after the labours in thefield, or the service in the priory, they forgot all the misery of theland, and lived only for each other. 

Happy, happy days! How often they looked back to them afterwards!

A second messenger came during harvest time from the camp, now on theborders of Sussex. His news was no better than before. The Danes wereharassing the army on every side, but no decisive battle had beenfought. The enemy still seemed to know all the plans of the Englishbeforehand; and the booty they had gained was enormous, while a deepdistrust of their leaders was spreading amongst the defenders of thesoil. 

Elfwyn expressed his intention of seeking an early leave of absenceshould events justify him in paying a short visit home. This delightedthe hearts of his wife and children, and they were happy inanticipation. 

It was a fine day in September when the thankful people of Aescendunewere called to raise the song of "Harvest Home"--for the fruits of theearth had indeed been safely gathered in ere the winter storms by thehands of women and children. Such joy as befitted the absence of theirlords was theirs, and Alfgar and Bertric, not to waste the holiday, agreed to have a day's hunting in the forest, rich with all the huesof autumn, while the feast was preparing at home. 

The day was delightful. Two young theows, whose fathers had gone tothe war, but who had been left behind as being too young to share itsdangers, although in the flush of early youth, accompanied them, andwere soon loaded with the lighter game their masters had killed, whilea deer they had slain was hung in the trees, where a wolf could notreach it, and where wayfarers were not likely to pass until thesportsmen should return for their own. Onward they wandered until thesun was declining, and then, having some few miles of forest tothread, and the deer to send for, they turned on their homeward way. 

No thought of any danger was on their minds that day. The Danes weretoo far distant. They were more than a hundred miles from the seat ofwar, and a hundred miles in those days meant more than five hundredwould mean now. 

About the hour of five they rested and bathed in a tributary of theAvon. Bertric's spirits were very high: he laughed and talked like onewhose naturally ardent temperament was stimulated by the bracingatmosphere and the exercise. His active and handsome frame, brightwith all the attractions of youth, was equal to any amount of woodlandtoil; and Alfgar, who was, as we have said, deeply attached to hiscompanion, felt proud of his younger brother, as he delighted to callhim, and Bertric loved to be called so. Alfgar trusted some day tohave a yet better claim to the title. 

Leaving the bathing place while there was yet time to reach homebefore dark, they came at last to a ford across the stream, the onlyspot where it could be safely forded, and as such known to the nativesof the vicinity; when their dogs began to whine, and to run with theirnoses to the ground, as if they had found something unusual to attracttheir attention. 

The two theows who were in front paused at the ford till their lordscame up, and then pointed to the ground with a terrified aspect. Alfgar gazed and started, as did Bertric. There were the footmarks ofa large number of horses, evidently belonging to a body of horsemenwho must have crossed the ford since they passed it in the morning. 

"Can my father have returned unexpectedly?" said Bertric. "He said heshould get an early leave of absence. "

Alfgar did not answer for a moment. He was evidently very muchalarmed. 

"Look, " he said, "at the footmarks, where some have dismounted. "

Bertric looked, and comprehended the terror of his companion. Thearmed heels, which had sunk deeply into the mud, had left tracesutterly unlike the marks to which they were accustomed in similarcases. 

The stories they had both heard of predatory bands of Danes who hadwandered far from their main body, and had sought gratification fortheir lust for plunder and blood in remote spots where the inhabitantsdwelt in fancied security, came to their minds, and also the inquirieswhich had been made in the Danish camp concerning their home and thecircumstances of St. Brice's fatal night. 

"Still, it may be our father and his men; they may have worn thespoils of the enemy. "

The spoils generally went the other way, Alfgar thought, but did notsay. 

They crossed the ford in silence, intent only on reaching home. For along time they could follow the trail of the horsemen. 

"Who can lead them?" said Bertric, as they bounded onward. "They seemto know the country. "

A sad and harrowing suspicion had filled Alfgar's mind, that these menmight be deputed to avenge the fiery death of his father--and toavenge it, probably, on the very people who would have died to preventit. 

But the one desire uppermost in the minds of the whole party was tohasten home. They feared every moment that they might see the brightflame through the trees, or that the wind might bring them the tidingsthat they were all too late--too late to save those whom they lovedfrom outrage and death. 

So they continued running, or walking when breath failed, at theutmost speed they could command, and just as the sun set they arrivedat the crest of a hill, from which they could see the hall. 

"Thank God, it yet stands!" said they both. 

They descended, and plunged again into the wood which lay between themand the goal; their theows, less perfectly trained, and perhaps lessardent, fell slightly behind. They came upon the spot where they hadleft the deer, not, however, with any intention of encumberingthemselves with the burden, as may be imagined. They looked, however, at the tree where they had hung the carcase, and their eyes met eachother's. 

"It is gone, " said Alfgar, with bated breath. 

They said no more, but continued their headlong course, until they hadreached an open glade by the side of a small stream. Here their dogsbecame uneasy, and uttered low threatening growls. 

The lads paused, then advanced cautiously, looking before and around. 

Turning a corner round some thick underwood, they came suddenly upon asight which justified all their previous alarm. 

A huge fire burned by the side of a brook, over which was roasting thedeer which they had killed. The light shone out in the gatheringdarkness, and illumined the recesses of the bushes around, and thefaces of a large body of men reclining on the bank, or engaged in thetask of sharpening their arms while their supper was roasting. Amomentary glance told that they were Danes, thus advancing under theshadow of the forest, to take their foes unawares. Their horses werepicketed around, and sentinels were evidently posted, to give thefirst alarm of any danger. 

Alas! they had seen the poor lads before they could withdraw into thewoods which fringed the path, and instantly prepared for pursuit. Three or four jumped upon their horses, two or three more plunged intothe wood to cut off the retreat. It was all-important to their plansthat their presence should not be discovered; and these manoeuvreswere executed in perfect silence. 

They had not seen the theows behind, but fixed all their attention onBertric and Alfgar, who, on their part, comprehending their danger, turned at right angles into the wood, and ran for life. The boys werefleet of foot, and would probably have distanced their pursuers, butan arrow from some ambush on their left hand pierced Alfgar's thigh, wounding an important muscle, and he could run no farther. 

"Leave me, leave me, Bertric, " he cried; "you are in more danger thanI. "

Poor Bertric would not leave his friend. He tried to assist him, andturned a deaf ear to all solicitations for the few moments that theycould have availed. It was soon too late, and the heavy hands of theDanish warriors were laid upon them. 

Shuddering at the contact, they yet yielded without useless andunmanly resistance, and were at once led to the side of the fire. 

It was a scene Salvator Rosa would have loved to paint: the firelightbringing out in strong relief the huge limbs of the oak trees, thebronzed faces of those dread warriors, which no pitiful or tenderfeelings ever seemed to visit. 

The theows had fortunately, being behind, taken the alarm in time, andescaped unnoticed by the Danes. 

A large athletic warrior, but yet a man of some age, rose from hisseat by the fire, and scrutinised the captives. Alfgar knew him. Itwas Sidroc, an old fellow warrior of his father, who had often visitedtheir home near Aescendune, and he was at no loss now to comprehendthe object of their enterprise. 

The warrior gazed upon him fixedly, and then spoke aloud. 

"Whence your name and lineage? Your face is not of the hue of thefaces of the children of the land. Speak! who art thou?"

"Alfgar, the son of Anlaf. "

"Thor and Woden be praised! We had learned that you yet lived. Boy, thou art the object of our search. Thou, the descendant of kings, mayst not longer dwell with slaves. Thy father is at hand. "

"My FATHER!"

"Yes. Didst thou not know that he escaped on St. Brice's night, baffling his would-be assassins, and yet lives? He thought thee dead, and only sought vengeance, when he heard from the captured prisoner ofElfwyn's band that thou wert yet alive, and he is come to seek thee. "

Poor Alfgar!

CHAPTER VI. THROUGH SUFFERING TO GLORY. 

For a few minutes Alfgar sat like one stunned by the intelligence. Joyand fear were strangely mingled together; well did he rememberSidroc's frequent visits to his father's English home, and that thewarrior had more than once taken him in his infancy upon his knee andsung to him war songs, telling him that he too must be a warrior someday. 

He was roused from his reverie by the voice of Sidroc. 

"Who is your companion?"

"Bertric, the son of Elfwyn of Aescendune; oh! you will see that nowrong is done to him, will you not? his people saved my life. "

"That they might make you a Christian, knowing that your father wouldsooner you had expired in the flames which consumed his house. 

"No, " he added sternly; "he is doomed, he and his alike. "

Alfgar uttered a piteous cry, and appealed so earnestly that one mighthave thought he would have moved a heart of stone, yet all in vain. 

"Does the eagle mourn over the death of the dove, or heed what pangsthe kid may suffer which writhes beneath its talons? If you are of therace of warrior kings, act like one. "

While this was going on the warriors had been selecting some light andsharp arrows and stringing their bows. 

"You have but one target, not two, " cried Sidroc, "and scant timewherein to use it. "

"Then you shall have two, for I will die with him, " cried Alfgar, comprehending at once that the death by which Saint Edmund of EastAnglia, and many a martyr since, had glorified God, was destined forhis companion, his brother. 

He snatched at a weapon, and rushed to the tree to which the victimwas bound, as if he would save him or perish in the attempt, but agrasp like iron was thrown around him, and he struggled in vain. 

"Bind him, but do him no harm, " said Sidroc, "and detain him where hemay see all, and strengthen his nerves for future occasions. "

Against the tree leaned Bertric, pale, yet strangely composed; thebitterness of death seemed to be past, so composed were his youthfulfeatures. The lips moved in earnest, fervent prayer. Once he glancedwith a look of affection, almost of pity, upon Alfgar, and when thelatter made the vain attempt to deliver him, he cried, "Do not grievefor me, dear Alfgar, you cannot save me; you have done your best; prayfor me, that is all you can do. "

His patient courage, so unexpected in one so young, touched hiscaptors, as nothing else would have touched them, and Sidrocapproached him. 

"Bertric of Aescendune, thou mayst save thy life on one condition;dost thou wish to live?"

The thought of home and friends, of his mother, awoke in his breast, and he replied:

"Yes, for the sake of those who love me. "

"I know nought of them, neither must thou henceforth, but thou maystlive if thou wilt join our nation and renounce thy Christianity; forI, who have no son, and seek one, will even adopt thee. "

"I cannot deny my faith. "

"Dost thou not fear the pain, the sharp arrows with which they willpierce thee?"

"I fear them, but I fear eternal death more; God help me!"

He repeated these last words over and over again, as if the strugglewere very sore. 

"Decide, " said Sidroc. 

"I have decided--'In manus tuas, Domine, '" he breathed out, "'commendospiritum meum. '"

"Let fly, " cried the chieftain, "and let the obstinate young fool knowwhat death is. "

Arrow after arrow sped through the air and pierced the legs and armsof the martyr boy, for it was the cruel amusement of the Danes toavoid the vital parts in their living target. The frame of thesufferer quivered with agony, while the lip seemed striving to formthe holy name, which has given strength to thousands of martyrs, whether at the stake, beneath the ferocious beast, or in whatsoevermanner it has pleased God to make His strength perfect in weakness. 

Then Alfgar saw what was the marvellous power of Christianity, andbeheld a heroism utterly beyond the fierce excitement which nerved hiscountrymen for their scenes of carnage and blood; not one of his paganfriends could have suffered as calmly, as patiently--it seemed easierfor the sufferer to bear than for Alfgar to look on; once or twice thelatter gave audible vent to his emotions, but the look which Bertricturned upon him spoke volumes, and he restrained himself lest heshould add to the pain of the victim. He knew not then that theexample before him would nerve him in moments of severest trial, thenfast approaching, that the one accusation urged against theChristians, which he had felt most keenly, that of cowardice, wasanswered in the weak yet valiant boy, who found strength in the nameof Christ to endure all for His sake; neither did his fiercecountrymen know that they were preparing a disappointment for thepagan Anlaf, and for all those of his house and lineage. 

We cannot enter more closely into the secret which gave the martyr hisstrength; we know not the visions of heavenly joy which may haveoverpowered the present pain, we know not whether He who gave thiselaborate framework of flesh and blood, nerve and sinew, miraculouslysuspended the full operation of His laws, as is elsewhere recorded ofother martyrs. Certain it is, that sooner than relinquish Him, Bertric, like Saint Edmund nearly two centuries earlier, yielded hislife to the rage of the enemies of His Lord {vi}. 

The struggle was sharp but short, for Sidroc, to the surprise, and wemust add the disgust, of his compatriots, seized a bow and sent anarrow straight to the heart. One nervous shudder passed through thelimbs, and all was still; they had killed the body, and had no morethat they could do. 

Alfgar gazed with reverence, as well as love, upon the calm featuresfrom which the expression of pain had wholly passed; the light of thefire, mingling strangely with that of the rising full moon, illuminedthem in this their first day of nothingness, for the spirit which hadlived and dwelt in the tabernacle of clay had fled. 

Yet there was a wondrous beauty still lingering over them; they seemedetherialised--as if an angel's smile had last stirred their lines, when the spirit went forth, and left its imprint of wonder, joy, andawe thereon; and Alfgar instinctively turned from them to the bluedepths of heaven above, where a few stars were visible, althoughdimmed by the moonlight; and he seemed to trace his beloved Bertric'spassage to the realms of bliss. A light wind made music in the upperbranches of the oaks, and it seemed to him like the rush of angels'wings. 

It had often been a sharp struggle to him, nursed in heroic times, learned in battle songs, and of the very blood of the vikings, toavoid the feeling that Christianity was not the religion of the brave;now the difficulty was over, and who shall say that the first joy ofthe martyr's soul was not the knowledge that his sufferings hadalready borne such fruit to God!

And not only was Alfgar reconciled to the reproach of the Cross, hewas also content to be an Englishman, if not in blood, at least inaffection and sympathy as in action. 

An hour passed away; the body remained affixed to the tree; the nightgrew darker, and the hour approached when, under ordinarycircumstances, people retired to rest, and the band commenced itspreparations for carrying out the attack upon Aescendune. 

One hope Alfgar had, and that not a faint one: he knew that the twotheows had escaped unnoticed, and that they would give warning in timefor either defence or escape; their strength at Aescendune was butslight for the former, all the able-bodied men were absent at the seatof war. 

In the excitement of the last hour Alfgar had almost forgotten themeeting before him, but now it occupied his thoughts fully, and hebegan to expect the arrival of Anlaf each moment. He learned from theconversation around him that he and a portion of the band had gone toreconnoitre the position of the prey. 

While Sidroc was somewhat impatiently expecting the arrival of hiscoadjutor, the cry of a raven was heard; it proved to be the signalfor the party to advance, and Sidroc and his men obeyed at once. 

But all their horses were left picketed by the stream, under the careof three of the youngest warriors, and there Alfgar was left, safelybound to a tree, for his captors could not trust him. 

He was strongly, but not cruelly bound; it evidently was not intendedto hurt him, only to secure him, and he could see that one of thewarriors was especially charged to guard him. 

Oh, how anxiously he strained the senses of sight and hearing for newsfrom the forest party! could he but have given one warning, he wouldwillingly have died like Bertric; all was silence--dread silence--thesleeping woods around gave no token of their dread inmates. 

An hour and a half must have passed, when a bright light, increasingeach minute in intensity, appeared through the trees--then a loud andstartling cry arose--after which all was silence. 

The light seemed to increase in extent and to have two chief centresof its brilliancy, and Alfgar guessed them to be the hall and thepriory. 

But no screams of distress or agony pierced the air from two hundredwomen and children, and Alfgar hoped, oh, so earnestly! that theymight have escaped, warned in time by the theows. 

With this hope he was forced to rest content, as hour after hourrolled by, and at length the footsteps of a returning party wereheard. 

It proved to be only a detachment of the fifty, sent to bring horsesto be loaded with the spoil. Alfgar listened intently to gaininformation, and heard enough to show that the Danes had beendisappointed in some way, probably in their thirst for blood. 

"But how could they have known we were coming? We have marched througha hundred miles of the most desolate country we could find, and havecome faster than any one could have carried the information. "

Such seemed to be the substance of the complaint of the warriors onguard, from which Alfgar felt justified in believing in the escape ofthe theows, and the consequent deliverance of the people, if not ofthe place. 

Half the horses were taken to fetch the plunder, the other half leftwhere they were, for the spot was conveniently situated, and thedistance from Aescendune only about two miles. 

When they had gone, Alfgar heard his guards talking together. 

"What did they say, Hinguar?--not any blood?"

"No, but plenty of plunder. "

"That is not enough, we want revenge. Odin and Thor will not knowtheir children; our spears should not be bright. "

"They must have been forewarned; Eric said that they had taken away agreat many things. "

"Why could we not trace them?"

"Because there is no time; we are too far from the army and fleet; wemust return immediately, before the country takes the alarm; rememberwe are only fifty. "

"Yes, but mounted upon the best horses, and the first warriors of ourfamily; we may take some plunder, and send a few Englishmen toNiffelheim, before we get back; Anlaf would not let us stay to touchanything as we came. "

"No; all his desire was to get to this Aescendune. "

"Then the lad whom we made into a target is the only victim, while ourkinsfolk's blood, shed near here, cries for vengeance. "

"He died bravely. "

"Yes, that is a Christian's kind of courage. "

"Well, perhaps some day they will learn to fight, and then--"

"Their songs tell them of an Alfred who defeated our best warriors. "

"That was long ago; if you go back far enough these English were seakings before they were spoiled by becoming Christians. "

"Hush; I think I hear steps. "

"Who comes?" cried one of the guards, challenging a newcomer. 

"I, Anlaf, your chief. "

And the father of Alfgar appeared on the scene. 

Of average height, Anlaf possessed vast muscular powers; his sinewsstood out like tight cords, and his frame, although robust, was yetsuch that there seemed no useless flesh about him. His hair was a deepgrizzled red, as also his beard, and his eyes were of the same tinge, his nose somewhat aquiline, and his whole features, weatherworn asthey were, were those of one born to command, while they lacked thesheer brutality of expression so conspicuous in some of hissubordinates. 

Ho addressed a few words to the guards, and they led him to Alfgar. 

"Cut him loose, " he said. 

They did so. 

He looked mournfully yet sternly on the youth, who himself trembledall over with emotion. 

"Alfgar, " he said, "do I indeed see my son?"

"You do, my father. "

"Follow me; nay, you are wounded--lean on my arm. "

Alfgar's thigh had, it will be remembered, been pierced by an arrow, but the wound was not deep, and with his father's assistance he couldproceed. He knew where Anlaf led. At length they came upon a desertedclearing, and there he paused until Alfgar, who could scarcely keepup, stood by his side. 

Before them the moonbeams fell upon a dark charred mass of ruins inthe centre of the space. 

"This is the spot where father and son should meet again, " said Anlafand he embraced his son. 

CHAPTER VII. FATHER AND SON. 

"Here, my son, " said the old warrior, as he pointed out the blackenedruins, "here stood our home, where now the screech owl haunts, and thewolf has its den. There, where the broken shaft yet remains, was thechamber in which thou first sawest the light, and wherein thy motherdied there, where snake and toad have their home, was the great hall. Surely the moonbeams fall more peacefully on the spot now all has beenavenged, and the halls of the murderers have fallen in their turn. Buthow didst thou escape?"

"The folk of Aescendune saved me, father. "

"But how; from the burning pile?"

"Nay. I had spent the previous day with them, and returned home onlyin time to find the place in flames. The enemy seized me, and wouldhave slain me, but Elfwyn and his brother, Father Cuthbert, deliveredme; and now thou hast slain their Bertric, and burnt both hall andpriory. "

"Think not that I owe them gratitude for aught they have done. Theytampered with thy faith, I now apprehend, even before the night of St. Brice, and perhaps drew from thee the knowledge which enabled them tosurprise so large a party in my house. But all this was to make theeabandon the gods of thy fathers, and to inflict the worst injury theycould upon a warrior. I trust they have failed!"

"Father, I am a Christian!"

"Say not that again, boy, if thou would not have me kill thee. "

"I can but say it, father. In all that touches not my faith and dutyas a Christian, I am bound to love, honour, and obey you. But ourreligion forbids me to nourish revenge. "

"Of what religion, pray, were they who would have slain thy father onSt. Brice's night?"

Alfgar hung his head. 

"When Christians practise themselves what they teach, then we willheed their pretensions, but not till then. Their religion is but acloak for their cowardice, and they put it aside as a man throws awaya useless garment when they have the chance of slaying their foeswithout danger. "

"There are good and bad Christians, father. "

"Commend me to the bad ones then. Do not speak to me of a religionwhich makes men cowards and slaves. These English were warriors once, till the Pope and his bishops converted them, and now what are they?cruel and treacherous as ever, only without the courage of men. "

Alfgar felt the injustice of all this, and with the example of Bertricin his mind, he cared nor for the accusation of cowardice. 

"Here, then, my boy, on this spot where thou wert once cradled, renounce all these Christian follies and superstitions, and thou shaltgo back with me to the camp of King Sweyn, where thou shalt bereceived as the descendant of warrior kings, and shalt forget thatthou, the falcon, wert ever the inmate of the dovecote. "

There was a time when this temptation would have been almostirresistible, but that time was over, and after one earnest prayer forstrength from above, Alfgar replied. 

"My father, if you claim my obedience, I must even go with you to yourpeople, but it will be to my death. I have said I am a Christian. "

"And dost thou think I have found thee--thee, my only son--to partwith thee again so easily? nay, thou art and shalt be mine, and, ifnot mine, then thou shalt be the grave's; for either thou shalt liveas thy ancestors have lived, a warrior and a hero, or the earth shallcover thee and my disgrace together. "

"Father, I can die. "

"Thou dost not fear death then?"

"Thou hast left one behind thee--one who did not fear to die themartyr's death. "

"Dost thou mean Bertric of Aescendune?"

"I do; they slew him, cruelly, although neither he nor his have everdealt cruelly with thy people. "

"Thy people, why not our people? art thou ashamed of thy kindred?"

"Of their cruelty and treachery. "

Anlaf laughed aloud. 

"Cruelty and treachery indeed! and canst thou say that here? who setthe example in this place?

"Come boy, come, " he continued, "I will lead thee to those who shallsoon talk or drive all this Christian nonsense out of your young head;meanwhile, do not disgrace yourself and me by attempting to escape. "

Alfgar sighed, and accompanied his father, so inopportunely found, back to the camp. 

Arrived there, the word was given at once to mount, and the wholeparty started on the return journey to the south. Alfgar cast alonging glance behind at the spot where he knew all that was mortal ofpoor Bertric was left, to be, so far as the Danes cared, the prey ofthe wolf or the kite; but the young Dane knew well that, if any wereyet alive at Aescendune, the hallowed temple of the martyr would notwant its due honour. 

All his heart was with his English friends; he felt that in going tothe Danish camp he was really going to his death, for although withina few years the conversion of the Northmen took place, yet at thisperiod their hatred of Christianity was simply ferocious, and hisfather belonged to the old heathen conservatives of his day, as didall his kinsfolk. 

"O Aescendune, once happy Aescendune!" was the thought, the bitterthought, as each hour placed a larger barrier of space between Alfgarand his late home; all its happy memories came freshly back upon him, and particularly the thought of Ethelgiva, his betrothed, from whom hewas so ruthlessly torn, torn as if he left part of himself behind. 

They reached the confines of the forest by daybreak. Before themstretched an open country, where wild heaths alternated withcornfields, and wooded hills were of frequent occurrence upon thelandscape. 

All at once a signal of caution was given, and the whole party retiredagain within the cover of the wood, where they could see, for theywere on an eminence, the whole district before them without beingseen. 

A body of fifty English soldiers was passing on the road, which lay atthe distance of a few hundred yards only, travelling at a considerablespeed, as if they anticipated the emergency of Aescendune, and hurriedto the rescue. Alfgar knew them at once; they were Elfwyn and histroops; oh, if they had but arrived earlier, thought he, and startedto see how completely English his sympathies were. 

The Danes found it hard to repress their laughter at the thought ofthe reception which awaited the travellers at home; they had no ideaof spoiling it by attacking them, although the numbers were aboutequal; besides, they had got all the plunder and spoil, and a battlewould only endanger the success already obtained. So they lay in coveruntil the last straggler had disappeared in the direction ofAescendune, and then continued their course, with many a jest at theexpense of the English. 

Anlaf watched his son; he knew what his feelings were, and histhoughts were bitter as he felt that, could Alfgar have beenconsulted, he would be in that English band. 

That night they arrived on the banks of the Thames, near Reading, theborder of Mercia. Their passage had been quite unopposed; all thefighting men were in Wessex; and those who had seen the Danish partyhad fled with terror--they had not stopped long to plunder, but hadspeared one or two unfortunate victims who fell in their way, a sightwhich sickened Alfgar. 

The following day they continued their march to the southeast, sometimes hiding in woods, for the country was mainly occupied byEthelred's troops; sometimes pursued by larger bodies of horsemen, butalways successful in distancing them, until, at the approach ofeventide, they came in sight of the entrenched camp of the northernhost. The spot was on the northern borders of the ancient kingdom ofSussex--the land of the Saxon Ella--a spot marvelously favoured bynature, occupying the summit of a low hill, which commanded a wideprospect on all sides, while itself almost impregnable when fortified, as it was, by ditches and mounds, dug in the usual Danish fashion, forthe Danes owed much of their success to their skill in fortification. 

Beautiful in time of peace was the country around, but its desolationwas sufficient to sicken the heart. Blackened ruins lay on every sidefor miles; nay, they had disfigured the whole day's journey. Scarcelya town or hall, unless strongly fortified, had they seen standing, andthis for nearly fifty miles. 

Within this fortified enclosure the Northmen had collected abundanceof spoil, and there they detained many prisoners, whom they held toransom, putting them to death with the utmost cruelty if the moneywere not forthcoming at the stipulated time. 

When the party of Anlaf arrived at the northern gate, crossing thesummit of the ascent on that side, they found it open and almostunguarded, so slight was the danger from the dispirited English--nowtoo accustomed to the idea of a foe in the heart of the land. 

Entering, they beheld a strange scene: huts rudely constructed of thebranches of trees, intermingled sparingly with tents, were disposed atregular intervals. In the centre, where the main streets crossed, wasthe royal tent, with the raven banner floating therefrom; and there, at that moment, was the savage tyrant Sweyn in person. 

Sweyn was the son of Harold Bluetooth, who reigned in Denmark fiftyyears, from A. D. 935-985, and who in his old age became a Christianand strove to convert his subjects. But the ferocious warriorsrebelled against him, and were headed by his unnatural son, Sweyn, who, although baptized, renounced Christianity, and fought to restorethe bloodstained worship so congenial to the heart of a sea king. Defeated in battle, the unhappy father fled for his life, and fled invain, for he was either murdered or died of his wounds. 

Sweyn then became king, restored idolatry, and gratified to the fullthe fell instincts of his savage followers. His great object was nownot merely to plunder, but to conquer England, and all his campaignswere so directed as to reduce province after province. Sussex and Kentwere now wholly powerless; East Anglia was little better; Wessextrembled, for every inlet was a path for the robbers, and the turn ofMercia drew near. 

Sweyn stood at the door of his tent, leaning upon his ponderousbattle-axe; around him were two or three warriors, whose grey hairshad not softened the look of ferocity so plainly stamped upon theirfaces. 

The king was not in armour, but wore a kind of close-fitting tunic, descending to the knees, and leggings leaving the legs bare above theknees. A rich mantle was thrown over the tunic, for it was cold. 

By his side, similarly dressed, stood his son, the hopeful Canute, thefuture King of England, then only in his twelfth year, but alreadyshowing himself a true cub of the old tiger in fierceness and valour, yet not devoid of nobler and gentler virtues, as he afterwards showed. 

"Welcome, Anlaf, " cried Sweyn, as he saw the party arrive; "welcome, hast thou enjoyed thy holiday in Mercia?"

"Bravely, my king, the ravens have tasted flesh. "

"No need to tell me that; thy revenge, then, is accomplished. Hastthou found thy son?"

"He is with me, my lord, but their saints must have warned the Englishof our approach. We burnt the place but the people were not in it. Their cries would have been music in our ears. "

"Perhaps St. Brice told them you were coming; the English have aveneration for him, " said Sweyn, bitterly. 

They both laughed a bitter laugh, for both had suffered by themassacre in the persons of kinsfolks. 

"But is this young springal thy long-lost son? he is like thee, evenas a tame falcon is like, and yet unlike, the free wild bird. "

"He is my son;" and Anlaf introduced Alfgar. 

The youth made his salutations, not ungracefully, yet with an air ofreserve which the king noticed. 

"I thought St. Brice had got him long ago, and feared thou wert on awild-goose chase. "

"It is a long tale to tell now, my liege. "

"Have they Christianised him?" said the king, with a sly look. 

"He will soon lose that, " replied Anlaf. 

"Yes, " said the king; "we know a way of curing the folly, " when, evenas he spoke, a spasm, as of mental agony, passed over him, and heshook like an aspen, but it was gone in a minute. 

Was it the fate of his father which was thus avenged?

Every one looked aside and pretended not to notice the fact, andAnlaf, having made his homage, retired, leading Alfgar. 

"You see, my son, " commenced the old warrior, as he led his recoveredboy to his own quarters, "how useless it would be for you to struggleagainst the tide, such a tide as no swimmer could breast. "

"If he could not swim, it would be easy to drown, " said Alfgar, andthere was such a despairing utterance in his tone, that his father waschecked. 

The quarters of Anlaf were in the northwestern angle of the camp; theyconsisted of huts hastily constructed from the material which theneighbouring woods supplied, and one or two tents, the best of which, stolen property, appertained to the chieftain. 

Over a wide extent of desolated land, beautiful in its generaloutline, where the eye could not penetrate to details, looked theprospect. The round gently-swelling Sussex downs rose on the southernhorizon, guarding the sea, while around them were once cultivatedfields which the foe had reaped, while quick streams wound in betweenthe gentle elevations, crowned with wood, and here and there the merespread its lake-like form. The sun was now sinking behind the hugerounded forms of some chalk hills in the west, when the camp becamegradually illuminated by the light of numberless fires, whereat oxenwere roasted whole, and partridges and hares by the dozen, for theDanes were voracious in their appetites. 

In Anlaf's quarters one huge fire blazed for all. Alfgar seemed theonly silent member of the company; the warriors related theirsuccesses, and boasted of their exploits, and the bards sang theirferocious ditties, until all were tired, and the quiet moon lookeddown upon the sleeping camp. 

O the contrast--the calm passionless aspect of the heaven and thehuman pandemonium beneath. 

CHAPTER VIII. FATHER CUTHBERT'S DIARY. 

St. Matthew's Day, 1006. --

It is with a heavy heart that I take up my pen to write the events ofthe last few days. They have been so calamitous, so unexpected. Wehave heard of such things afar off, we had prayed for our brethren inWessex, exposed to similar calamities, and now they have fallen uponus personally. May God, who alone is sufficient for these things, giveus strength to bear all for His name's sake. 

It was a fortnight ago, and our harvest was all gathered in. God hadblessed our increase, and our garners were full with all manner ofstore; women and children had mainly been the reapers, but the LadyHilda herself had been present amongst them, and so had her daughter, my niece, Ethelgiva, even sometimes labouring with their own hands. 

Alfgar and Bertric had worked like common serfs, and did themselveshonour thereby, for true nobility lies not in being idle, save in thefield of battle, as the bloody Northmen vainly think. 

Well, the work was over, and we had a mass of thanksgiving, afterwhich Bertric and Alfgar went hunting in the forest. In the eveningthere was a harvest home; it was of course a strange one without themen, who were afar off, fighting for their country, but we tried to bethankful for mercies vouchsafed, and I and Father Adhelm were there tobless the food. 

We found a large party assembled--as many, indeed, as the hall wouldcontain. My sister, the Lady Hilda, was somewhat uneasy, becauseAlfgar and Bertric were not yet back, but still not much alarmed, forwhat harm could befall such lads in the woods? So I blessed the foodand the feast commenced. 

Eating and drinking were over, and the old gleeman, striking his harp, was beginning a song of harvest home, when in rushed the two youngtheows who had gone out with Alfgar and Bertric, with the startlingintelligence that there was a band of Northmen lurking in the woods, who had seized their young lords, and were, they thought, bent onattacking the place. 

Words of mine cannot paint the terror and dismay the tidings caused;the scene of distress and fear is yet before my eyes as I write. Onewoman rose superior to fear--the Lady Hilda; aided by her, I stilledthe tumult, and we took hasty counsel together. 

Nothing could be done for the poor lads, and the preservation of thelives of the whole population depended upon our promptitude. It waswonderful to see how the mother stifled her agony in her own breast, while she strove to remember that, in the absence of her lord, she wasin charge of the safety of all her people, and the mother of all. Ihad already interrogated the two churls; their story was but tooevidently true; and I learned that they had discovered the footmarksof the Northmen in crossing a ford that afterwards, while returninghastily home, they stumbled upon them, and Alfgar and Bertric weretaken. The party were evidently awaiting the approach of night, andwere doubtless bent on attacking the castle and village. 

Fifty men! and how could we resist them? The poor old gleemenexpressed their readiness to fight for the old hall, and so did eventhe boys; but these accursed pagans are the very spawn of the evilone, and fight like fiends, whom they equal in skill, so that I saw atonce there was no chance in resistance. 

But there was safety in retreat and flight, and under ourcircumstances no dishonour in so seeking it. So I saw the path clearat once, and not a minute too soon. 

In the depths of the forest, about ten miles from Aescendune, in theopposite direction to that in which the enemy lay, is a solitaryvalley, surrounded by such morasses and quagmires that only those whoknow the paths could safely journey thither. But the valley isfertile, and my father years ago built a substantial farm house withoutbuildings there, which has ever since been occupied by our chiefforester. 

Thither I saw at once the whole party must retreat, alike from thehall, the priory, and the village. In such a way only could they hopeto escape the wretches to whom bloodshed and cruelty are pastimes. 

Yet I was deeply puzzled to understand what motive could have broughta war party so far, and why they had passed so many flourishing homesto come to poor secluded Aescendune. Surely, thought I, there is somegreat mystery hidden in this, which time may perhaps show. 

In a brief space of time, shorter, indeed, than under othercircumstances we should have conceived possible, everything wasprepared; horses were loaded with provisions and all things necessaryfor immediate use. Old men and children were also mounted, who couldnot otherwise travel, and we started. It was indeed painful to partfrom home, and to leave all we had to the mercy of the Danes, but"skin for skin, all that a man hath will he give for his life. "

So soon as I saw the party safely away from the town, I left themunder the guidance of some ancient foresters, who knew every woodlandpath, and hastened to my brethren, who had been duly forewarned, andwere awaiting my arrival. I found them prepared for immediatedeparture. We had a large flat-bottomed boat on the river which washesthe monastery garden; they had placed all the sacred vessels and thetreasure of the priory therein, and had sent the novices and laybrethren to seek their safety with the rest in the woods, only thebrethren, properly so called, remaining. 

And now, ready for immediate flight, we went forth with calmcomposure, which God sent us. Then, upon the brink of the stream, westopped and listened. No sound broke the dread silence of the night, and we stood in perfect quiet for some minutes. 

At last we heard the sound of muffled footsteps, as of those who sneakabout on the devil's work, approaching the priory, and we pushed theboat into the stream. The moon had not yet arisen; it was quite dark. It was the one boat near. 

We knew well what they were doing--surrounding the priory to preventany chance of escape, supposing, of course, that their victims wouldbe within. This accomplished, they knocked loudly at the doors, andreceiving no answer, raised their fierce battle cry, and looked, happily in vain, for the pallid faces they expected to see at windowsor loopholes. Then they proceeded to break the doors down with theirbattle-axes. A similar din, beginning a moment before, told us thatthe hall and the priory were simultaneously attacked. 

We had heard enough. We let the boat drop down the stream till wereached a small island, where we waited to see the end, praising theLord who had not delivered us over for a prey unto their teeth. 

While we waited in suspense, we saw a fierce light flash forth fromthe hall, and perceived that, having plundered it of all that wasportable, they had fired it in many places at once; and while welooked, we saw our own once happy home share the same fate, andemulate the hall in sending forth its volume of ruddy flame towardsthe skies. 

This we had waited for, and we held council, and decided that, havingno home, the brethren should depart with the sacred vessels andtreasure to the mother house at Abingdon, while I remained, as alsoFather Adhelm, to minister to our afflicted flock in the woods as bestwe might. 

Alas for our poor priory! the foundation of Offa and Ella, once thelight of the neighbourhood! but now our candlestick is removed out ofits place. 

Our minds being made up as to the course to be pursued, we rowedquietly down the stream, fearing pursuit. 

Down the stream about two hours' journey an old Roman road, leadingsouthward, crossed the river, where a bridge had once existed, longsince swept away by time, but there was a tolerable ford quite safe, save in winter floods. 

Hard by stood a hostelry, and thither we journeyed in ourheavily-laden bark. 

The light of the conflagration grew dimmer as we rowed down thestream, but it still lighted up the heavens with an angry glare. Itwas yet deep night when we drew near the inn, and we lay awhile on ouroars, to listen for signs of pursuit; but there was nought to disturbthe dead silence of the night, so we proceeded. 

All the household were buried in sleep when we knocked at the doors--aproof that they had not observed the redness in the skies, or littlesleep, I trow, would they have taken. 

We were so exhausted with the fatigues and excitement of the enemy, that we hailed this lonely habitation as a little Zoar. It showed howsafe people were feeling in Mercia, that we could not wake the goodpeople for a long time, and we were getting impatient, for they seemedlike the seven holy sleepers of Ephesus, awaiting the cessation ofpersecution. I wish we could all sleep like those Ephesians, and awakein better days. 

But their dogs were awake, and saluted us with a vociferous barking, and would not allow us to land until they were driven away by the oarswhich our theows used with much effect upon their hides. 

At last a window was thrown open above. 

"Who are you who travel at this time of night?" said a voice, whichtried to be firm. 

"The poor brethren of St. Benedict from Aescendune. "

"Now the saints help thy lying tongue, " thus irreverently he spoke, "do holy men travel like robbers in dead of night?"

"Look, my brother, over the tree tops, and you may learn the cause ofour wanderings; dost thou not even yet see the angry glare in theheavens? It is from Aescendune; the Danes have burned it. "

"Good lack, poor Aescendune! and the people?"

"Are all safe, we trust, in body. "

"God be praised!" and the host hurried down and admitted us. 

His wife hasted to light a good fire, and to prepare us a breakfast;in short, we had fallen amongst the faithful, and we met greathospitality, for which may God repay the worthy host, Goodman Wiglaf. 

We were so fatigued in mind and body that we no sooner lay down thanwe fell asleep, and slept until the sun was high in the heavens. 

Wiglaf watched the river jealously to see that no foe pursued; but, aswe afterwards learned, they had other things to think of. 

The road which ran across the river at this spot continued southwardinto Wessex, and, so far as we could learn, was free from danger, so Idetermined to send my brethren to Abingdon by easy stages along itscourse, while I turned back with Father Adhelm, to share themisfortunes of my kindred and lay brethren in the woods. So weembraced each other and parted; and we two watched, with lovinghearts, until the glades of the forest hid our brethren, dear to us inthe Lord, from our sight, dimmed as were our eyes with tears. Then weplucked up our courage, and turned our thoughts to those others, dearand near to us, who had taken to the woods, where it was again ourduty to seek them. 

Wiglaf rowed us back in a light skiff up the stream, not without muchprotest, for he feared the Danes would surely catch us, and at everybend of the stream he crept round, as if he expected to see a fleet ofboats sweep towards us, while he kept in the middle, as if dreading anarrow from every bush. At length we reached the immediateneighbourhood, over which the smoke still hung like a black pall. HereFather Adhelm and I landed, and, giving Wiglaf our blessing, bade himdepart in peace, which the good soul flatly refused to do untilassured of our safety. 

So, hiding the boat behind some bushes, we crept forward together, till, getting through the underwood, we came to the edge of thecovert. 

Before us lay the fated village, one mass of deformed and blackenedruins, from which the dark smoke ceaselessly arose, and made the airpainful to breathe. 

But there was no sign of life; no living thing seemed to breathethere; the place seemed abandoned for ever. It was a dull day, dull asthe gloom which was upon our spirits; the very heavens seemed to haveput on funeral attire, and the chilly wind which swept over the sceneseemed quite at home. 

We emerged cautiously from our cover, and soon stood where, a few daysbefore, the priory had risen, beautiful before God; it was but a hugepile of blackened timber and stone; and even more conspicuous aboveall other ruins, by the black smoke it still sent forth, was thatwhich had been the hall. 

While we stood and pondered, Wiglaf suddenly started. 

"I hear the tramp of men, " he said. 

Then I listened, and distinctly heard the footfall of men and horses. We paused; it drew nearer. We were on the point of taking to the woodsagain, when I thought I caught the sound of the word of command in theEnglish tongue, and the voice seemed familiar. 

We advanced still cautiously amongst the ruins, until we saw fifty orsixty horsemen cross the wooden bridge which the Danes had leftuninjured, and advance with horror-stricken faces. 

They were my brother and his men. 

I recognised Elfwyn amongst them. I rushed up to him, and our tearsmingled together. 

"They are safe, are safe, " I cried. 

"Thank God!" broke from many an overcharged heart. 

"But where are they? where are they?"

"Safe at the forest farm, protected by brake and morass; and now tellme, how came you here?"

Tidings arrived at headquarters that a small party of Danes weremaking an incursion into Mercia, riding as rapidly as they could, andI obtained Edric Streorn's leave to pursue them, with great difficultyI can tell you, and he would only allow me then to take fifty men. 

"He affected to disbelieve the intelligence, and said sarcasticallythat the safety of Wessex could not be neglected for Aescendune. TheNorthmen would never hurt a place which had so distinguished itself onSt. Brice's day. "

Here he sighed heavily. 

"Elfwyn, " I said, "my brother, we must not be ungrateful to God. Hereare ruins indeed, but they cover no dead bodies; all have escaped. "

"No, Cuthbert, not all. "

I was silent, for I thought of Bertric. 

"We have buried him, Cuthbert, in God's peace, in the place hehallowed by his blood. "

I saw the tears stream down his manly cheeks. My voice grew so hoarse, somehow, that I could not ask a question. 

"I will tell you all we have seen by and by, not now. I could not bearit;" and he covered his face with his hands. 

"How did he die?" I stammered at last. 

"Like St. Edmund. "

I asked no more, but I hope the martyr will forgive me the tears Ished. I know I ought to rejoice that he has gained his crown, but Icannot yet. I shall be able some day. 

"How could they find the path through the woods, Cuthbert?" asked mybrother; "how did they know the fords?"

The same question had occurred to me. 

Then the words of the churl Beorn, who had been taken prisoner, as themessenger had told us, came fresh to my mind. 

"Elfwyn, " said I, "do you remember Beorn?"

He looked earnestly at me. 

"Did he not say that his captors asked particularly about Aescendune, and that the name of Anlaf was mentioned, and inquiries madeconcerning Alfgar?"

"He did. "

"It is the curse of St. Brice's night. "

"Fallen upon the innocent. "

"Leave it to God, " said I. 

"I will try; let us go to my people. "

And we arose and took the path through the woods, sorrowing for thenews we must carry, and still uncertain about the fate of Alfgar. 

CHAPTER IX. THE CAMP OF THE DANES. 

It was the noontide heat, and two Danish warriors reclined under theshadow of an ancient beech, hard by the entrenched camp of the Danes, a few days after the arrival of Alfgar therein. Their spears lay idlyon the grass, as if there were no foe to dread, and the land weretheir own; they seemed deeply engrossed in conversation. 

"Well, Anlaf, and when is your son going to give up his Christianity?"

"You are in a great hurry, Sidroc. "

"Nay, all the camp inquires. "

"They must wait. "

"How long?"

"I cannot tell, " said Anlaf, shifting uneasily about; "he is my onlyson, the heir of a long line of warrior princes. "

"To whom his life is a disgrace. "

"Not altogether; he is brave. "

"Would be, you mean, were he not a Christian. "

"No, he is, or he would not dare cross my path as he does; death, withwhich I have often threatened him, does not seem to have much terrorfor him. "

"Perhaps he does not know how terrible death can be made. Has he everheard of the rista oern {vii} (spread eagle)?"

"I should not value him much if I won him by fear. I must try othermodes. "

"Only do not tarry; Sweyn himself inquires how long his obstinacy isto be endured. "

"He must not expect that every conversion can be accomplished with asmuch rapidity as his own in early days. "

"Better not refer to that. "

"Why! he was baptized himself. "

"He would slay any one who reminded him of it. "

"Yes; the curse of Harold Bluetooth, they say, was not a comfortablething to get. "

"The father was a Christian in that case, and the son returned to thegods of his ancestors; in your case it is the opposite: the firstmight be permitted, the last never. "

"You would not talk in that way if he were your own son. "

"Should I not? listen; I had a son, a noble, gallant boy offifteen--all fire and spirit--do you know how he died?"

"It was before we knew each other. "

"Then I will tell you. We had been ravaging the Frankish coasts, andthe lad got a wound in his shoulder; we carried him home, for he hadfought like a wolf, and the leeches tried to cure him, but it was allin vain; they said he would never be fit to go to battle again. PoorSigard! he could not bear that, and he said one day when I was tryingto cheer him, 'No, father, I shall never be able to strike a gooddownright blow again, and I cannot live until I die a cow's death inmy bed; I will die as my fathers have died before me when they couldno longer fight. ' I saw what he meant, but I did not like the thought, and I tried to change the subject, but he returned to it again andagain, until at last he persuaded me to let him have his way. So wetook one of our ships, stuffed it full with things that would burneasily, made a funereal pile on the deck, and laid him thereon instate, with a mantle fit for a king thrown over him. Then we bade himgoodbye and a happy journey to Valhalla; he was as cheerful as if hewere going to his bridal; we tried to appear as if we were too, but ittore my heart all the same. Then we applied the torch and cut thecable; the wind blew fair, the bark stood out to sea. She had not gothalf-a-mile from shore when the flames burst out from every crevice ofthe hold; we saw them surround the pile where he lay passive; he didnot move so far as we could see, and after that all was hidden fromour sight in flame and smoke. "

The old warrior was silent, and, in spite of his stoicism, Anlafthought a tear stood in his eye. 

"So don't tell me I could not give up an only son, " added Sidroc. 

Anlaf made no reply, but only sighed--a sign of weakness he strove torepress the moment he betrayed it. 

They walked back together to the camp, and there they parted. Anlafrepaired at once to his tent, and found Alfgar seated therein. 

"The king wishes to know when you will be enrolled amongst hisfollowers. "

The lad looked up sadly, yet firmly; the expression of his face, whereon filial awe contended with yet higher feelings of duty, wasvery touching. Anlaf felt it, and in his heart respected his son, while sometimes he felt furious at his disobedience. 

"Father, it is useless, you should not have brought me here, I shalllive and die a Christian. "

"At all events, Alfgar, you should give more attention to all we havesaid to you, and more respect to the defenders of the old belief inwhich your ancestors were all content to die. What do you suppose hasbecome of them?"

If Alfgar had been a modern Christian, he might have said, conscientiously enough, that he believed they would be judged by theirlight, but no such compromise in belief was possible then. 

"There is no salvation save in the Church, " he said, sorrowfullyenough. 

"Then where are they--in hell?"

Alfgar was silent. 

"What was good enough for them is good enough for me, and for thatmatter for you, too. I should be more comfortable there with them thanwith your saints and monks; at all events, I will take my chance withmy forefathers, cannot you do the same?"

"They did not know all I do. "

"All fudge and priestly pratings, begotten of idleness and dreams. Valhalla and Niffelheim are much more reasonable; at all events theyare parts of a creed which has made its followers the masters of theworld. "

"This world. "

"The next may take its chance, if there is one, of which I by no meansfeel sure. You are throwing away the certainty of pleasure and gloryhere for an utter uncertainty; those rewards you will gain bysubmission are at your feet to take up; those you will gain by abloody death only exist in the imaginations of priests. "

"'Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, but He hath revealed them tous by His Spirit, '" said Alfgar in a low voice. 

His father was silent; the words struck him like a strain of weirdmusic; but he did not yield the point, save for the time, and after apause changed the subject. 

"You have other motives than heavenly ones. You love a Christianmaiden. "

"How do you know that?" said Alfgar, blushing to the temples. 

"I have lain near you at night, and you talk in your dreams. Now, Ihave yet another motive to put before you. You think you have cause tolove the Aescendune people, because they saved your life. I think Ihave cause to hate them, because they made you a Christian. Now, ifyou die in your superstition, when we invade Mercia they shall sufferfor it. "

"They have suffered enough. "

"Nay, only in buildings, which they will restore. I will pursue themwith unrelenting vengeance, with the death feud, till I have destroyedthe accursed race utterly. "

"Father!"

"If you would save them, " said Anlaf, who saw he had made animpression, "renounce your Christianity, and I will forgetAescendune. "

Here he left the tent. 

The days which followed were, it may be imagined, very uncomfortableones for Alfgar; but he was not destitute of occupation. It was hisfather's wish that he should join the youth of the camp in athleticand warlike exercises. This he had no objection to do, and he spentnearly his whole time in practising the use of battle-axe, of bow, ofspear, of sword, and shield, or in managing the war horse, for theDanes had acquired cavalry tactics on stolen horses. 

Naturally quick, both of eye and hand, he learned all these thingseasily, and excited the admiration and envy of his companions. Theybecame useful in time. 

In this manner nearly a month passed away, when an incident occurredwhich claims our attention. 

Strolling on the earthworks which defended the camp, near the royalquarters, Alfgar came unexpectedly upon no less a person than the kinghimself, in close conversation with a stranger. 

There was something in the form and manner of this stranger which evenin the brief moment conveyed recognition to the mind of our hero; anda second glance, which was all he dared to cast, as he withdrew fromthe spot, revealed to him the face of a traitor. 

It was Edric Streorn. 

A few hours later the chieftains were all summoned to a council in theking's tent, and when, after a short session, they came forth, thegeneral order was given to break up the encampment, and move towardsthe southwest for the winter, for all the resources of the countryaround were exhausted. 

The work was a laborious one. From the dawn of day, horses, heavilyladen, left the camp, loaded with the accumulated spoil of the year. Anlaf himself was very busy, and it was with some real alarm thatAlfgar asked him what would happen did the English suddenly appear. 

"No fear of them, boy. We have received certain intelligence thattheir army is disbanded for want of provisions. They will not meettill the spring unless we rout them up. "

Alfgar knew well whence the "certain intelligence" came. 

Destroying and plundering, the mighty host moved on its way, crossinginto Hampshire, and doing, as the chronicle says, "their old wont. " Ofthem it might be said in the words of the prophet:

"Like Eden the land at morn they find;But they leave it a desolate waste behind. "

Whenever they found a tract of country as yet unexhausted, there theysettled until they had exhausted it. The wretched inhabitants, who hadfled at their approach, perished with hunger, unless they had strengthto crawl to the far distance, where as yet bread might be found. 

It was the custom of the invaders to burn all their resting placeswhen they left them, and to slay all captives, save such as could beheld to ransom, or a few whom they detained in slavery, till they dieda worse death from want and ill usage. 

Thus they moved from spot to spot, until towards the middle ofNovember they reached the coast opposite the Isle of Wight, in whichunfortunate island they decided, after due consideration, to winter. 

Opposite the host, across the Solent, rose the lovely and gentle hillsof the "garden of England;" but between them lay the Danish fleet, inall its grandeur, calmly floating on the water. Each of the loftyships bore the ensign of its commander; some carried at the prow thefigures of lions, some of bulls, dolphins, dragons, or armed warriors, gaudily painted or even gilded; while others bore from their mast theensign of voracious birds--the eagle, the raven--which appeared tostretch their wings as the flag expanded in the wind. 

The sides of the ships were also gay with bright colours, and as thewarriors embarked and hung up their bright shields, grander sight wasnever seen. 

But chiefly Alfgar admired the ship of Sweyn, called the "GreatDragon. " It was in the form of an enormous serpent; the sharp headformed the prow, with hissing tongue protruding forth, and the longtail tapered over the poop. 

In this ship Anlaf himself had his place, in deference to his descent, and Alfgar accompanied him. It may easily be imagined he would soonerhave been elsewhere. 

Scarcely a fishing boat belonging to the English could be discerned:the Danes made a desert around them. 

Eight years before, in the year 998, they had wintered on the island, and since that time had regarded it as a Danish colony. No Englishremained in it save in the position of slaves, and the conquerors hadaccumulated huge stores of spoil therein, while they drew their storesof provisions from every part of the adjacent mainland. 

"Is it not a grand sight, Alfgar?" exclaimed his father. "Are you notproud of your people, the true monarchs of the sea?"

Alfgar was for the moment inclined to sympathise; but he thought ofthe darker side of the picture, and was silent. 

There was a higher glory far than all this, and it had left a lifelongimpression on his soul. 

CHAPTER X. CARISBROOKE IN THE ELEVENTH CENTURY. 

The fleet bore the troops of savage soldiery safely--toosafely--across the waters of the Solent, to the estuary formed by theMedina, where now thousands of visitors seek health and repose, andthe towers of Osborne crown the eastern eminences. A fleet may stillgenerally be discerned in its waters, but a fleet of pleasure yachts;far different were the vessels which then sought the shelter of thelovely harbour, beautiful even then in all the adornment of nature. 

There the Danes cast anchor, and the forces dispersed to their winterquarters. The king and his favourite chieftains took up their abode atCarisbrooke, situate about eight miles up the stream, but above thespot where it ceases to be navigable. 

Their chosen retreat was the precincts of the old castle--old eventhen--for it had been once a British stronghold, commanding the routeof the Phoenician tin merchants across the island, whence its name"Caer brooke, " or the "fort on the stream. "

The Romans in after ages saw the importance of the position, fortifiedit yet more strongly, and made it the chief military post of theisland, which, under their protecting care, enjoyed singular peace andprosperity--civilisation flourished, arts and letters were cultivated. The beautiful coasts and inlets were crowded with villas, and invalidsthen, as now, sought the invigorating breezes, from all parts of theisland of Britain, and even from the neighbouring province of Gaul. 

The Roman power fell at last, and when the English pirates, our ownancestors, like the Danes of our story, attacked the dismemberedprovinces of the empire, its wealth and position on the coast made itan early object of attack--happy those who fled early. The Anglo-Saxonchronicle shall tell the story of those who remained. 

"AD. 530. This year Cerdic and Cynric conquered the Isle of Wight, andslew many people at Whitgarasbyrg" (Carisbrooke). 

The conquering Cerdic died four years after, and his son Cynric gavethe island to his nephews, Stuf and Wihtgar. The latter died in 544, and was buried in the spot he and his had reddened with blood, withinthe Roman ramparts of Carisbrooke. 

It is needless to say that at that early period our ancestors wereheathens, and the mode of their conquest was precisely similar to thatwe are now describing under another heathen (with less excuse), Sweynthe son of Harold. 

It was a few days after the arrival of the Danes at their quarters, and Alfgar stood on the rampart at the close of a November day; it wasSt. Martin's Mass, as the festival was then called. The sun wassinking with fading splendour behind the lofty downs in the west, andcasting his departing beams on the river, the estuary, with the fleet, and the blue hills of Hampshire in the far distance. 

Southward and westward the view was alike shut in by these loftydowns, and eastward the hills rose again, so as to enclose the valley, of which Carisbrooke formed the central feature. 

The ramparts whereon he was standing were of Roman workmanship, builtso solidly that they had resisted every attack of man or of time;while down below lay the ruins of a magnificent villa, once occupiedby the Roman governor of the island. 

Anlaf appeared and stood beside his son. 

"Alfgar, " he said, "the day after tomorrow is the day of St. Brice. "

He paused and looked steadfastly in the face of his son. 

"And the king proposes to enrol you amongst his chosen warriors onthat day; he has marked the skill you have displayed in the mimiccontests with spear or sword, your skill as a horseman, and he wishesto see whether in actual battle you will fulfil the promise of theparade ground. "

"And yet he knows my faith. "

"Alfgar, " said the old man solemnly, "you must renounce it or die; nomercy will be shown to a Christian on St. Brice's day; that is why theking has chosen it. Think, my son, over all I have told you; you willdecide like one who yet controls his senses, and not disgrace youraged father. "

"Father, I do think of you, " said the poor lad; "at least believethat. I do not grieve for myself. I feel I could easily die for myfaith, but I do grieve over the pain I must cause you. "

The heart of the old warrior was sensibly affected by this appeal, butnot knowing the strength of Christian principle, he could notreconcile it with facts, and he walked sadly away. 

But two days, and the dread choice had to be made--the crisis in thelife of Alfgar, a crisis which has its parallel in the lives of manyaround us--approached, and he had to choose between Christ and Odin, between the death of the martyr and apostasy. 

He walked to and fro upon the ramparts, after his father left him, inthe growing darkness, feebly illuminated by the light of a new moon. Below him, in the central area, a huge fire burned, whereat theevening meal was preparing for the royal banquet, for Sweyn and hisferocious chieftains were about to feast together. 

Escape was hopeless. Even had he not been bound by the promise givento his father, it would have been very difficult. He felt that hismotions were watched. The island was full of foes, their fleetoccupied the Solent. No; all that was left was to die with honour. 

But to bring such disgrace upon his father and his kindred! "Blood isthicker than water, " says the old proverb, and Alfgar could not, evenhad he wished, ignore the ties of blood; nature pleaded too strongly. But there was a counter-motive even there--the dying wishes of hismother. If his father were Danish, she was both English and Christian. 

Before him the alternatives were sharply defined: Apostasy, and hisancestral honours, with all that the sword of the conqueror couldgive; and on the other hand, the martyr's lingering agony, but thehope of everlasting life after death. 

He could picture the probable scene. The furious king, the scorn ofthe companions with whom he had vied, nay, whom he had excelled, inthe exercises of arms, end the ignominious death, perhaps that painfulpunishment known as the "spread eagle. " No, they could not inflictthat on one so nobly born, the descendant of princes. 

Alas! what might not Sweyn do in his wrath?

Was Christianity worth the sacrifice? Where were the absolute proofsof its truth? If it were of God, why did He not protect His people?The heathen Saxons had been victorious over the Christian Britons; andnow that they had become Christian, the heathen Danes were victoriousover them. Was this likely to happen if Christ were really God?

Again Odin and Frea, with their children, and the heroes sung by thescalds, in the war songs which he heard echoing from around the fireat that moment:

"How this one was brave, And bartered his lifeFor joy in the fight;How that one was wise, Was true to his friendsAnd the dread of his foes. "

Valour, wisdom, fidelity, contempt of death, hatred of meanness andcowardice, qualities ever shining in the eyes of warlike youth. 

This creed had sufficed for his ancestors for generations, as hisfather had told him. Why should he be better than they? If theytrusted to the faith of Odin, might not he?

And then, if he lived, when the war was carried into Mercia, he wouldsave his English friends, even although forced to live unknown tothem. 

"Oh! life is sweet, " thought he, "sweet to one so young as I. I havebut tasted the cup; shall I throw it down not half empty?"

He was almost conquered. He had all but turned to seek his father, when suddenly the remembrance of Bertric flashed vividly upon him. 

He saw, as in a vision, the patient, brave lad enduring mortal agonyfor Christ, so patiently, so calmly. Had Bertric, then, died fornought? He felt as if the martyr were near him, to aid him in thismoment, when his faith was in peril. 

"O Bertric, Bertric!" he cried, "intercede for me, pray for me. "

He fell on his knees, and did not rise until the temptation wasconquered, and then he walked steadily into the great vaulted room, ofRoman construction, which served as the banqueting hall, and took hisusual place by his father's side. 

Oh, how hollow the mirth and revelry that night! How he loathed thesinging, the drunken shouting, the fierce imprecation over the winecup--the sensuality, which now distinguished his bloodthirstycompanions. The very knives he saw used for their meals had served asdaggers to despatch the wounded or the helpless prisoner. The eyes, now weak with debauch, had glowed with the maniacal fury of theberserkir in the battlefield. Was this the glory of manhood? Nay, rather of wolves and bears. 

Then he looked up at Sweyn, the murderer of his father, and marvelledthat his hand was yet so steady--his head so clear. This apostateparricide! never would he live to kiss the hand of such a man; betterdie at once, while yet pure from innocent blood. This his Christianityhad taught him. 

"Minstrel, " cried the fierce king, "sing us some stirring song of thedays of old; plenty of the fire of the old Vikings in it. "

A strange minstrel, a young gleeman, had been admitted that night--onewhose chain and robes bespoke him of the privileged class--and he sangin a voice which thrilled all the revellers into awed silence. He sangof the battle, of the joy of conquest, and the glories of Valhalla, where deceased warriors drank mead from the skulls of vanquished foes. And then he sang of the cold and snowy Niffelheim, where in regions ofeternal frost the cowardly and guilty dead mourned their weak andwasted lives. In words of terrific force he painted their agony, whereHela, of horrid countenance, reigned supreme; where the palace wasAnguish, Famine the board, Delay and Vain Hope the waiters, Precipicethe threshold, and Leanness the bed. 

But in the innermost chamber of this awful home was the abode ofRaging Despair; and in the final verse of his terrible ode the scaldsang:

"Listen to the ceaseless wail, Listen to the frenzied cryOf anguish, horror, and amaze;Would ye know from whom they come, Tell me, warriors, would ye know?"

Here he paused, after throwing intense emphasis on the last words, till he had concentrated the attention of all, and the kinggazed--absorbed--then he continued:

"There wave on wave of bitter woeOverwhelms the parricide. "

The king started from his seat. He was about to launch his battle-axethrough the air in search of the daring minstrel, when the same dreadexpression of unutterable agony we have before mentioned passed overhis face; he trembled as an aspen, and sank, as one paralysed, intohis chair, while his glaring eyes seemed to behold some horridapparition unseen by all beside. The warriors now turned in theirwrath to seek the daring or unfortunate minstrel, but he was gone. 

Alfgar had seen the apostate in his moment of retributive agony, andhe shuddered. 

"Better death, far better, " he murmured, "than a fate like this. Godkeep me firm to Him. "

The king had by this time recovered his usual composure, but his rageand fury were the more awful that the outbreak was suppressed. 

"Sit down, my warriors, disturb not the feast. What if your king hasbeen insulted in his own banquet hall? there are hands enow to avengehim without unseemly tumult. Let us drink like the heroes in Valhalla. Meanwhile let the minstrel be sought and brought before us, and heshall make us sport in a different mode. "

The "rista oern" whispered one in his ear. 

The ferocious king nodded, and his eyes sparkled with the expectedgratification of his fierce cruelty. Meanwhile warriors were searchingall the precincts of the camp for the destined victim. 

Nearly half-an-hour had passed, and the king was getting impatient, for nearly all the chieftains were getting too drunk to appreciate thespectacle he designed for them. 

"Why do the men delay?" he cried; "let them bring in the minstrel. "

Still he came not; and at length the searchers were forced, one afterthe other, to confess their failure. 

"It is well, " said the king; "but it was the insult of a Christian, and shall be washed out in Christian blood. Anlaf, produce thy son. "

"Nay, nay, not now, " cried Sidroc and others, for they saw that Sweynwas already drunk, and consideration for Anlaf made them interfere. "Not now; tomorrow, tomorrow. "

"Nay, tonight, tonight. "

"Drink first, then, and drown care, " said Sidroc, and gave the brutaltyrant a bowl of rich mead. 

He drank, drank until it was empty, then fell back and reposed with anidiotic smile superseding the ferocious expression his face had solately worn. Meanwhile a hand was laid upon Alfgar's shoulder, and akeen bright eye met his own, as if to read his inmost thoughts. 

"Come with me, or my father will disgrace himself. "

It was Canute. 

He led Alfgar forth into the courtyard. 

"Thou dost not seem to fear death, " said the boy prince. 

"It would be welcome now. "

"So some of our people sometimes say, but the motive is different;tell me what is the secret of this Christianity?"

Just then Sidroc and Anlaf came out from the hall and saw the twotogether. Sidroc seemed annoyed, and led the young prince away, whileAnlaf seized the opportunity to whisper to his son:

"My son, I can do no more for thee; I see thou wilt persist in thineobstinacy. I release thee from thy promise given to me; escape if thoucanst, or die in the attempt; but bring not my grey hairs to contempton the morrow. "

At this moment, Sidroc having seen Canute to the royal quarters, returned. 

"Sidroc, " said Anlaf, "I cannot any longer be the jailor of my unhappyand rebellious son. Let him be confined till the morrow. I shall askleave of absence from Sweyn, and now I deliver Alfgar to your care. "

"I accept the charge, " said Sidroc; "follow me, Alfgar, son of Anlaf. "

Alfgar followed passively. He could not help looking as if to takeleave of his father; but Anlaf stood as mute and passionless as astatue. Sidroc reached a party of the guard, and bade them confine theprisoner in the dungeon beneath the ruined eastern tower. 

"Listen to my last words, thou recreant boy; Sweyn will send for theeearly in the morning before the assembled host; it will be the day ofSt. Brice; and even were he not now mad with rage, there would be nomercy for a Christian on that day. Thou must yield, or die by theseverest torture, compared with which the death of thy late companionunder the archers' shafts was merciful. Be warned!"

CHAPTER XI. THE GLEEMAN. 

It was a low dungeon, built of that brick which we still recognise asof Roman manufacture, in the foundations of what had been the easterntower of the ancient fortification. The old pile had been badlypreserved by the Saxon conquerors, but it had been built of that solidarchitecture which seems almost to defy the assaults of time, andwhich in some cases, after fifteen centuries, preserves all itscharacteristics, and promises yet to preserve them, when our frailererections lie crumbled in the dust. 

The roof was semicircular, and composed of minute bricks, seeming toform one solid mass; the floor of tiling, arranged in patterns, whichcould still be obscurely traced by the light of the lamp left by thecharity of Sidroc to the prisoner; for the dungeon was of badreputation; lights had been seen there at unearthly hours, when theouter door was fast and no inmate existed. 

There were two long narrow windows at the end, unbarred, for they weretoo small for the human body to pass through them; they looked uponthe valley and, river beneath, for although the dungeon was below thelevel of the courtyard, it was above that of the neighbourhood. 

The prisoner strode up and down the limited area, wrestling with self, bending the will by prayer to submit to ignominy and pain, for he knewnow that his father had abandoned him, and that he had to apprehendthe worst; still he did not regret the choice he had made, and hefelt, as he prayed, peace and confidence descend like heavenly dewupon his soul. Mechanically he cast his eyes around the cell, andtried to trace out the pattern of the flooring, when he saw that thecentral figure, around which the circles and squares converged, wasjustice, with the scales, and the motto, "Fiat justitia. " He knew themeaning of the words, for Father Cuthbert had taught him some Latin, and the conviction flashed upon him that, sooner or later, all thewrong and evil about him would be righted by the power of a judge asomnipotent as unerring. And this thought made him the more reconciledto the apparent injustice of which he was the victim, and he prayedfor his father, that God would enlighten him with the true light. 

"Perhaps before he dies he may yet think of me without shame. "

For the shame which he unwillingly brought upon a father who wasstern, yet not unkind or void of parental love, was the bitterestingredient in the cup. 

And so the hours rolled on, which brought the dreaded morn nearer andnearer; and the victim, comforted by prayer, but without hope in thisworld, slept, and thought no longer of the torturer's knife, or feltthe cruel anticipations which would rack the waiting mind. 

And while he slept he was wakened, yet but partly wakened, by a voicewhich seemed to belong to the borderland 'twixt sleep and waking. 

"Alfgar, son of Anlaf, sleepest thou?"

"Surely I dream, " thought he, and strove to sleep again. 

"Alfgar, son of Anlaf, sleepest thou?"

Now he sat up, and beheld, or thought he beheld, a figure of oneclothed in the attire of a minstrel, in the centre of the chamber. 

"Art thou yet in the flesh like me?" he cried, repressing a shudder. 

"Even so, a being of like mould, subject to pain and death. "

"A prisoner, then; art doomed to die?"

"No prisoner, neither art thou, if thou willest to escape. "

"Thou art the gleeman who insulted Sweyn. "

"Nay, who told the brutal tyrant the truth. "

"And what doest thou here?"

"I am come to deliver thee. "

"But how?"

"Rise up, cast on your garments. "

Hardly knowing what he did, Alfgar obeyed, and when he stood face toface with the stranger, began to lose the uneasy impression that thebeing who addressed him was otherwise than mortal; for he saw by thelight of the lamp that the gleeman bore all the attributes of a livingman. 

"How came you here?"

"Because I know the secrets of the prison house--knew them before theDanes had murdered the once happy dwellers in this garden of England, which they have made a howling wilderness; hence I escaped the wrathof the furious parricide, whom the saints destroy, with ease, andlaughed in security at their vain efforts to take me; but we mustwaste no time; it yet wants five hours to daybreak; within those fivehours we must reach the opposite shore. "

"But tell me, I cannot understand, why hast thou braved the wrath ofSweyn? why hast thou cared for me?"

"All in good time, follow me now, I bid thee by the memory ofAescendune. "

"Aescendune! surely I dream. "

"Yes, of Aescendune. I have heard that thou art thence. Now waste nomore time. "

More and more mystified, for he had never to his knowledge seen thespeaker before, Alfgar gazed at the gleeman. 

He appeared of noble air and mien, but was evidently but a young man;he was somewhat above the average height, and looked as though hecould wield the sword as well as the harp. But how were they toescape?

Alfgar was not left long in doubt. The stranger took up the lamp andwalked to the farthest recess of the dungeon, where, concealed amongstthe rude carvings with which the builders had ornamented the wall, wasa rose carved in stone. The gleeman pressed it sharply, and a hiddendoor sprang open, revealing a winding staircase excavated in the solidwall. 

"Upwards it leads to the banqueting hall, and you can comprehend myescape this evening, " said he; "but our path is now downwards, unlessyou would like to go up and see the drunken beasts of murdererssnoring off their debauch upon the floor as they fell; oh, that itwere lawful for a Christian man to cut their throats as they lie; manyinnocent lives would be saved thereby, which those brutes will live todestroy. "

"Thou art, then, a Christian?"

The gleeman crossed himself piously. 

"Why not?" said he. 

"I heard you sing like a scald tonight. "

"It was my part, and I acted it passing well, did I not? Sweyn wouldown as much; but, pardon me, I am forgetting that my daring put you indanger. "

"How did you know that?"

"I heard every word; and perhaps I might even have risked more thanthis to save you. "

Meanwhile they had descended nearly a hundred steps, and theatmosphere became singularly cold and charnel-like, when they entereda large vault, which, by the light of their torches, appeared of greatextent. Its walls were covered with uncouth representations, andinscriptions in Latin. 

"What place is this?"

"It had some connection, I believe, with the old idolatry, and that isall I know. This passage will guide us to daylight and liberty. "

Following a short and narrow passage, they emerged upon a ruinedvault, whose roof had fallen in. Climbing out with some difficulty, and disturbing in the process hundreds of bat-mice and not a few rats, they found themselves in the midst of some old ruins at the foot ofthe acclivity whereon the fortress was built, and below them the brookran rapidly to join the river. 

"Thanks be to God for our preservation in that den of unclean lions!"said the gleeman; "but had they known who was amongst them, he wouldhave had scant chance of escape. "

"May I not know?"

"Not yet. Come, we must waste no more time. "

They walked swiftly down the brook. No sentinels were posted in thisdirection, nor was any lookout kept. 

"The danger is yet to come, " said the gleeman, in a low tone. 

Shortly they reached the river, and then they found a boat hidden inthe rushes, which grew tall and strong. They embarked, and Alfgarsteered, by the other's direction, straight down the stream, while herowed for full an hour with remarkable strength and dexterity, so thatthey drew near the coast, and the cold air from the sea blew inAlfgar's face. 

Here the gleeman ceased rowing, and spoke to him in a low tone. 

"Do you see those dark figures ahead?"

"I do. "

"Well, they are the Danish war ships, and our hour of peril drawsnear. We must drop down with the tide, which is running out strongly, and I must steer. You can row, I suppose?"

"Yes. "

"Well, get the oars ready to pull for your life, if I give the word, but not till then. Now silence. "

In perfect silence they drifted down upon the ships. Happily for themthere was no moon, and although the stars were bright, there waslittle danger that their dark-painted bark would be seen at anydistance. 

One great mass after another seemed to float by them; but it was thedead hour of the night, and no sounds were heard from the sleepingcrews. They kept lax watch, because they had no foe to dread. Therewas, alas! no English fleet. 

One after another, until they had drifted into the centre of thefleet, where discovery must have been instant death. There above themrose the "Great Dragon, " in all her hideous beauty, the gilded serpentreposing on the placid waves. Her people, even at that untimely hour, were engaged in revelry, and as they passed by the fugitives heard thewords:

"Now the warrior's cup of joy was full, When he drank the blood of his foe, Where the slain lay thick on the gory hill, And torrents of blood from every rillreddened the river below, For Odin's hall is the Northman's heaven--"

But they heard no more, for they had drifted beyond hearing. 

They had now attained the last ship, when suddenly a watchman sprangto the side. 

"Boat ahoy! Whence and where?"

"From the 'Great Dragon'--a poor gleeman and his attendant to his homeon the shore. "

"Come on board then, and wake us with a song. The watch is ours, andwe will make it merry. "

There was no help for it; and commending courage with a significantlook to his companion, the gleeman and Alfgar ascended. It was yetdark, and the language and appearance of each might pass tolerablyunder ordinary circumstances for the characters they had assumed. 

"Now a song, and we will keep it up till daylight. "

Thus pressed, the gleeman took his harp and sang an old Scandinaviansong of the first sea king who invaded England, Ragnar Lodbrok. 

He told how the fierce Ragnar sailed for England, how his fleet waswrecked, but still how, with the relics of his forces, he assaultedNorthumbria, and was taken captive by Ella the king, who threw himinto a hole filled with vipers and toads. 

"Sharp the adder's tooth, but sharperSpake the sea king to his foes, Spake while savage brows grew darker, As he told the countless woesWhich the bear's fierce cubs should bringTo those who slew their father and their king. "

Then he described the retribution, and the lingering death of Ellaunder the agonies of the "rista oern" so vividly, that every Danishheart was filled with emulation. 

"Well sung!" shouted the Danes. "Thou dost sing a song worth hearing. Hast not taught thy son to sing likewise?"

In turn Alfgar was forced to support his assumed character. Luckilyhis tenacious memory retained the words of many an old song, and thewarriors were well pleased. 

"Why must thou go to shore? We will feed and guerdon thee well if thouwilt stay with us. "

"We are aweary now, and would fain return to our comrades on theshore, but we will return by and by. "

"Do so, here is thy reward;" and one of the speakers threw a goldchain round the gleeman's neck. Gold was plentiful with the robbers. 

They were allowed to return to their boat; but as they did so, many akeen eye was fixed upon them. The dawn was already beginning to appearin the east, and every moment was of importance. 

"Thou hast borne the test well, " said the gleeman, "and hast notflinched. "

"I could not in your presence. "

At this moment they heard the rapid splash of a boat, manned by manyrowers, behind, and a voice shouted aloud to the men on board the shipthey had left:

"Hast seen a boat with a gleeman and harp bearer?"

"They have just left the ship. "

"Follow; they are English spies. Sweyn will give the weight of theirheads in red gold. "

Instantly they heard the sound of hurried voices, the lowering ofboats, the splash of numerous oars, and all nearly close behind them. They took an oar each, and pulled with all the energy of men who pullfor life or death. 

The light was gradually growing stronger, and their chance of escapeseemed feeble, when Alfgar saw before them a dense cloud of mistrolling round the eastern promontory, and uttered a cry of joy as itenfolded them. 

"The wind is east, keep it on your right cheek, and steer straightforward. I will take both oars, " said the gleeman. 

It was wonderful with what energetic force and success the gleemanpulled until they had cleared the mist, and saw that they were in thered light of dawn, in the midst of the Solent. 

One half-mile behind them a solitary boat pursued. There appeared tobe only five men, four rowing and one steering. Other boats therewere, but wide of the mark. 

"Alfgar, " said the gleeman, "you will find a quiver of arrows and along bow at the bottom of the boat behind you. "

Alfgar handed them to him. 

"The points are passing sharp, and the bow is in order; take your turnto row. "

Alfgar obeyed; he could not do otherwise, the gleeman's tone ofcommand was so powerful, but he feared they would loss time by thechange. 

"You need not hurry yourself; let them approach. They are not likelyto have brought other weapons than their swords and axes. "

The boat gained on them rapidly, until it was within a hundred andfifty yards. 

"Keep just this distance if you can, " said the gleeman, and drew anarrow suddenly to its head; it whistled through the air, and thesteersman, transfixed, rose, leapt in the boat, and fell in the sea acorpse. 

"Gone to seek oysters for King Sweyn's table, I suppose, " said thegleeman. 

Another steersman promptly took the place, but some yards were lost bythe pursuers. 

"Slacken, we are too far for accurate aim; and we English must notdisgrace ourselves in Danish eyes. "

They slackened, another arrow sped, and the foremost rower fell. Evidently the Danes had no means of reply. 

"Slacken yet more;" and before the pursuers could recover theirconfusion, a third fell, then a fourth, before the unerring shafts. The fifth was at the fearful gleeman's mercy, but he restrainedhimself, now danger had vanished. 

But as he did so he cried aloud:

"Dane, we give thee thy life, blood sucker though thou art. Go, andtell King Sweyn that Edmund {viii} the Etheling, son of Ethelredof England, has been his gleeman, and hopes he enjoyed the song whichtold the doom of parricides. "

CHAPTER XII. THE MONASTERY OF ABINGDON. 

One of the central lights of civilisation and Christianity in theearly days of Wessex was the monastery of Abingdon. St. Birinus hadfixed the centre of his missionary labours at Dorchester, only sixmiles distant, but the Abbey was the fruit of the heroic zeal ofanother evangelist, upon whom his mantle fell--St. Wilfrid. After thedeath of Birinus, the zeal of his successors failed to evangelise thesoutheastern districts of Wessex, until, at length, came Wilfrid, fervent in zeal, and, stationing himself at Selsey, near Chichester, evangelised both Sussex and Wessex, sending out missionarieslike-minded with himself, even into the most inaccessible wilds. 

Centwin was then king of Sussex, but various petty states weretributary to him, and ruled by viceroys. One of these viceroys wasCissa, whose dominions included Wiltshire and the greater part ofBerkshire {ix}. This Cissa and his nephew, Hean, founded Abingdon. A mission was sent out from Chichester which attracted greatmultitudes of the Berkshire folk. Hean was present, and heard thepreacher take for his text that verse of St. Matthew which declaresthat it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle thanfor a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. These words entered intothe hearts of Hean and his sister Cilla, who was with him. Theydetermined to go and sell all that they had and embrace a life ofpoverty. From their uncle, Cissa, they obtained grants of land, whereon they founded monastic homes. Cilla dedicated the convent shereared to St. Helena, the mother of Constantine, traditions of whoselife in the neighbourhood had survived the Saxon Conquest. 

Hean obtained the land of which Abingdon formed the central point, then generally known by the name Cloveshoo. He was tardy in his workas contrasted with his sister, and Cissa died without seeing the workfor which he had given the land accomplished. Ceadwalla succeeded him(A. D. 685), and further augmented the territory. He rebelled againstCentwin, and became king of Wessex; spending most of his life inwarfare; it was through his conquest of the island that the "Wight"became Christian. He made a pilgrimage to Rome, where he died, afterhis baptism by Pope Sergius. 

Ina, his successor (A. D. 688), was so angry at the long delay inbuilding the monastery, that at first he revoked the grant of hispredecessors to Hean, but becoming reconciled, gave all his energy tothe work, and Cloveshoo {x}, or Abingdon, became a monastic town, and its history commences as a house of God from Ina, about A. D. 690-700. 

Important benefits were thus conferred on the whole neighbourhood;agriculture flourished, learning increased, a sanctuary for theoppressed was provided, and last, though not least in Ina's eyes, abulwark against Mercia was provided for the neighbourhood; while thepoor and the afflicted found their happiness in every way promoted bythe neighbourhood of the monastery. 

Several times the monastery was in peril by reason of the wars betweenWessex and Mercia. In A. D. 752, Cuthred of Wessex defeated Ethelbaldof Mercia at Burford, hard by, and protected Abingdon from furtheraggressions. Twenty-five years later the decision of war was reversed. Offa, the great and fierce king of Mercia, defeated Cynewulf ofWessex, at Bensington, and spoiled the land, destroying the convent ofSt. Helena, founded by Cilla, and grievously robbing and oppressingAbingdon. 

But the most awful calamity it ever underwent was its destruction inthe first great Danish invasion, in the early days of King Alfred, when it was literally levelled with the ground, only, however, toarise in greater magnificence when the storm had passed away. 

However the period of anarchy had introduced evils which required astern reformer, and one was found in the person of the abbotEthelwold, the friend of St. Dunstan, who, in conjunction with him andOswald, introduced the rule of St. Benedict into Abingdon, Glastonbury, Ely, and other great houses, which, by its absoluteprohibition of monastic idleness, and its wise regulations, caused thereligious houses of that period to become the central points ofcivilisation and learning in the land. 

Here, at this famous monastery, we resume Father Cuthbert's Diary. 

In festo St. Edmundi. 

Again I resume my diary, at the great monastic house of Abingdon, where I have rejoined my brethren. I have already told how, in companywith Elfwyn, Father Adhelm and I sought the forest farm where ourbeloved ones had found refuge from the cruel oppressor. The joy of thewomen and children to whom their husbands and fathers were thusrestored was very touching; all seemed willing to forget thedestruction of their homes, since they had been spared to each other, and I, to whom, by my vows, such love is unknown, yet could but feelhow holy a thing is family affection. 

Alas, there was one family where the bitterness of death had found itsway. I cannot describe the touching scene when Elfwyn told the fate ofdear Bertric. Well, they will learn by and by to thank God for him andhis example, for we doubt not he died a martyr, although we know notthe details, and, unless Alfgar yet lives, shall perhaps never knowthem. 

We held a long consultation upon our future movements. It was wiselydecided not to rebuild Aescendune at present, for the place where theynow are can be rendered very commodious, and is far more secureagainst a foe. We do not dare to hope that we have seen the last ofour troubles; the Danes are wintering in the Wight, ready for freshmischief next spring and summer. 

We have been able to learn nothing of Alfgar; but we think that Anlafprobably yet lives, and that he has recovered his son; yet we cannotimagine how he escaped on St. Brice's night. 

Well, to return. We at once set to work, and erected a church oftimber, for the service of God; and I said mass in it the first Sundayafter our arrival there. It may be supposed it is not a very grandchurch; but God looks at the living stones, and reads the heart. 

We all had enough to do for the first few days; but within a week onemight suppose we had been living there an age. Log huts were erectedfor the whole population; the old farm house, which is large andstrongly built, taking the place of the hall. One must dispense withsome comfort now. 

My brother sent a portion of his men to rejoin the army, but feelshimself justified in entering at once on his winter quarters with theremainder; in fact, since my arrival at Abingdon, the troops have allbeen dismissed for the winter, and the Danes have, as I said, retiredto the Wight. 

Then, leaving Father Adhelm in charge of the woodland settlement, Idetermined to visit my brethren here, where I have been received withall Christian love and hospitality by the abbot and his brethren. Three days my journey lasted. I travelled with only two attendants, serfs of our house; a poor prior burnt out from house and home. 

Nov. 21st, 1006. --

This evening I heard heavy steps on the stairs, and methought theirtread seemed familiar, as well it might, for no sooner had the dooropened than my son Alfgar, for whom we had mourned as dead, or atleast dead to us, fell upon my neck and wept. 

It was a long time before either of us was composed enough to saymuch, but when we had a little recovered, the abbot who had broughtthem to my rooms introduced a tall young man in gleeman's garb, asEdmund the Etheling. 

At length we all sat down to supper, but talked so much we could eatlittle, and I soon learned all the news Alfgar had to tell. His taleis wonderful; he has been indeed delivered from the mouth of the lion, nay, from the jaws of the fierce lion; but I must set down all thingsin order. 

The one thing which delights me most is the way in which his faith hasstood the hard hard test to which it has been put. 

But my dear nephew Bertric, Saint Bertric we must assuredly call him, oh how it will lighten the grief of his parents and sister to know howgloriously he died for Christ! One could envy him his crown. 

And then how delighted Ethelgiva will be to learn not only that Alfgaris alive, but to hear how true and brave he has been. 

But when all these congratulations were over, and we had learned allthat Alfgar had to tell, there was evidently something on the mind ofthe prince. 

"Alfgar and I have a very important duty to perform, " he said. 

I waited, and he proceeded. 

"There has been grievous treachery in our ranks. Edric Streorn hassold us to the Danes. "

"I feared as much, " said I, sadly. 

"I learned it at Carisbrooke, and am now on my way to Dorchester, where my royal father has arrived, or will arrive tomorrow. I shouldhave gone there at once, but Alfgar learned you were here, and wouldcome. Besides, we need your help to fit us for appearing at court. "

And, in truth, their habiliments were not very royal. 

Well, Abingdon is a town of great resources, wherein all things meetmay be found. 

"We will to the tradesmen tomorrow, " I said, "and fit you for thepresence. "

"I have yet heavier news to unfold, " Edmund added, very seriously. "The Danes purpose a winter campaign in the heart of the land, hopingto take us unawares. "

"Now the saints forbid!" said I. 

"Even so; but they are not all with us. St. Brice is against us. "

I sighed, and so did they. The very remembrance of that day issickening. 

"We have heard, " said the abbot, "that the king will arrive tomorrowat Dorchester; we will send you thither in the morning. Meanwhile, mysons, you do not eat and drink as I would have you. Remember you needto sustain exhausted nature. "

That was indeed true. They had travelled fast, and had fasted by theway, of necessity. 

"Well, Alfgar, we will tomorrow to the king, " said Edmund, after theyhad eaten and drunken; "he must surely listen to us now. "

"He appears to love this wicked Edric, " said the abbot sorrowfully. 

"Far better than his own flesh and blood, " replied Edmund. 

"My son, " said the abbot, "rest here this night in our poor house;tomorrow we will find you both horses and fitting apparel, and yeshall go meetly to the king, who is the guest of the bishop. "

"I shall not be sorry, father, to see the inside of my chamber, " saidthe young prince; for he is yet young, although so wise andvaliant--not more than a year or two older than Alfgar. 

The compline bell rang. 

"I will go with you to thank God first for our deliverance, and to paymy vows to Him, " said Edmund; "then to bed. "

After compline, Edmund went from the chapel to bed. Alfgar would notretire. He came to my cell; there he talked with me for a full hour. His affection moves me greatly. He has evidently found a real friendin Prince Edmund, who has delivered him from a cruel death, and whowants to attach him permanently to his service. Meanwhile Alfgar isall haste to return to Aescendune and Ethelgiva, before any furthersteps are taken. 

Saturday, Nov. 22d, 1006. --

After we had arrayed the Etheling and Alfgar this morning, I decidedto accompany them on their road to Dorchester, for it happened that Ihad arranged to say mass and preach tomorrow at the little church ofSt. Michael at Clifton, the residence of my sister Bertha and herhusband Herstan. It lies on a cliff over the Thames, on the way to thecathedral city, whence its name, "the town on the cliff. "

So we started, the Etheling, Alfgar, and I, after the chapter mass atnine. We crossed the fine timber bridge over the Isis, then kept thecauseway over the marshes, till, crossing an arm of the main stream, we ascended a hill and passed through the open country. 

On the north the country is richly wooded. There lies the chase ofNeweham, abounding in deer, with a few wolves yet lingering in itsrecesses, and forming sport for the ceorls. 

In the neighbourhood of a great monastery the roads are always good, and waggons can travel easily and smoothly from Abingdon toDorchester. So, being well mounted, we were only the best part of anhour in reaching Clifton. 

The river here makes a sudden bend to the east, after running for sometime almost due north, and at the bend the steep cliff rises whereonthe little church and my brother Herstan's hall is built, with a fewcottages below and around occupied by his theows. 

We went first to the church and offered our devotions. From theelevated ground whereon it stands, the cathedral of Dorchester and theSynodune hills formed conspicuous objects. 

Then we turned to the hall, and met a reception such as warmed theheart. When we had refreshed ourselves, I had to tell Bertha all thestrange events which have recently happened at Aescendune; of thedestruction of her old home, but of the well being of all her friends;yes, of all, for we know that he has won the martyr's crown. 

Some natural tears she dropped; but I think she soon came to see allthings in their right light, as we try to do. 

Soon after our arrival, Herstan sent a messenger to Dorchester tolearn at what hour the king was expected; and the answer was returned, that they expected him in time for the banquet at the episcopal palacethis evening. So Edmund and Alfgar consented to pass the day quietlyat Cliffton. 

CHAPTER XIII. THE CITY OF DORCHESTER. 

Dorchester was at this period the most important city of the Midlandcounties, for it was the seat of the great bishopric which extendedits sway over nearly the whole of Mercia. 

Here the apostle of Wessex, Birinus, had converted and baptizedCynegils, king of that country, Oswald, the saintly king ofNorthumbria, being present, and receiving him fresh from theregenerating waters as his adopted son. Here, the next year, Cuichelm, his brother, was baptized, and from this centre Christianity waswidely diffused. The good bishop died in the year 650, and was buriedamongst the people he loved, but many years later his relics weretranslated to Winchester. But the tale went forth that the cunningcanons of Dorchester had given them another body than that of thesaint, and their shrine was the object of veneration equally with therival shrine at Winchester. 

Dorchester became successively the seat of two great bishoprics--theone West Saxon, the other Mercian. The first, founded by Birinus, whenWessex extended far north of the Thames, was divided seventy yearslater into two sees--Winchester and Sherburne. For some years the citywas without bishops, owing to its insecure position during the strifebetween Wessex and Mercia, but later it appears as the seat of thegreat Mercian bishopric, retaining its jurisdiction until after theNorman conquest, when the see was transferred to Lincoln. ThereforeDorchester long enjoyed a wide celebrity and greater influence, thanthe city, Oxenford, which, lying at a distance of ten miles, wasdestined to supersede it eventually. 

The day was closing on an evening of November 1006, and the sun wassinking across the level country beyond the walls, when the people ofDorchester might have been seen crowding the roads which led from theeastern gate towards Bensington and Wallingford; the wooden bridge bywhich the road crossed the Tame was covered with human beings, andevery eye was eagerly directed along the great high road. The hugecathedral church towered above the masses, rude in architecture, yetstill impressive in its proportions, while another church, scarcelysmaller in its dimensions, rose from the banks lower down the stream, below the bridge, and the wooden steeple of a third was visible abovethe roofs of the houses in the western part of the city. 

But, as in every other city which had once been Roman, the relics ofdeparted greatness contrasted painfully (at least we should think so)with the humbler architecture around. The majesty of the churches wasindeed (as a contemporary wrote) great, but thatched roofs consortedill with the remains of shattered column and pedestal, and with thefragmentary ruins of the grand amphitheatre, which were yet partlyvisible, although the stones which had been brought from Bath to buildit had been employed largely in church architecture. 

The light of day was rapidly fading; a light breeze brought down theremaining leaves from the trees, or whirled them about in alldirections; winter was plainly about to assume the mastery of thescene, as was evident from the clothing the people wore, the thick furand warm woollen cloaks which covered their light tunics. 

At length the sound of approaching cavalry was heard, and the cry "TheKing! the King!" was raised, and cheers were given by the multitude. It was observable, almost at a glance, that they proceeded from theyoung and giddy, and that their elders refrained from joining in thecry. 

About a hundred horsemen, gaily caparisoned, appeared, and in themidst, with equal numbers of his guard preceding and following, rodeEthelred the king. He was of middle stature and not uncomely, butthere was a look of vacillation about his face, which would havestruck even an indifferent physiognomist, while his thin lips, whichhe was constantly biting (when he was not biting his nails), seemed toindicate a tendency towards cruelty. 

But by his side rode one, whose restless eyes seemed to wander to eachindividual of the crowd in turn, while power and malice seemed equallyconspicuous in his glance. Little changed since we last beheld himrode the traitor, for so all but the king accounted him, EdricStreorn. 

Amidst the shouts of the populace, who loved to look on the display, the Bishop Ednoth {xi} and the chief magistrates of the cityreceived the monarch and his councillor in front of the church of Sts. Peter and Paul, and escorted him through the streets to the palace, which stood in what was then a central position, on the spot nowcalled Bishop's Court. It was spacious, built around a quadrangularcourtyard, with cloisters surrounding the lowest storey and the smoothshaven lawn, in the centre of which a granite cross was upraised. Agateway opened in the southern side and led to the inner court, andthe cloisters opened from either side upon it. 

On the opposite side of the quadrangle was the great hall where synodswere held, and where, on state occasions, such as a royal visit, thebanquet was prepared. 

Here, after the king had availed himself of the bath, and hisattendants had divested themselves of their travel-stained attire, thethrone of the king was placed at the head of the board, and a seat forthe bishop on his right hand, and for Edric on his left. 

Ethelred took his place; upon his head a thin circlet of gold confinedhis flowing locks already becoming scant, but, as their natural colourwas light, not otherwise showing signs of age: he was only in hisfortieth year. His tunic was finely embroidered in colours around theneck, and was below of spotless white, secured by a belt richlygilded, whereon was a sheath for the dagger or knife, which was usedfor all occasions, whether in battle or in meal time, the haft beinginlaid with precious stones. Over the tunic a rich purple mantle waslightly thrown, and his slippers were of dark cloth, relieved by whitewool; the tunic descended to his heels. 

The attire of Edric was similar in shape, but of different colour; histunic was of green, edged with brown fur, his mantle of dark cloth, and his belt of embossed leather. There was a studied humility in itall, as if he shunned all comparison with the king. 

Ednoth said grace, and the chanters responded. The canons of thecathedral, the priests of the other churches, the sheriff of thecounty, the reeve of the borough, the burgesses, all had their places, and the banquet began; huge joints being carried round to eachindividual, from which, with his dagger, he cut what he fancied anddeposited it on his plate; then wine, ale, and mead were pouredfoaming into metal tankards, and lighter delicacies followed. Therewas no delay; no one cared to talk until he had satisfied hisappetite. 

The king, as a matter of course, opened the conversation, when theedge of desire was gone. 

"Have the levies who served in the war all been disbanded, Sheriff?"

"The last returned from the garrisons in Sussex a week ago, and areall hoping for a quiet winter in the bosom of their families. "

"Have they lost many of their number? Did the people of this hundredsuffer greatly in the war which Sweyn forced upon us?"

"Not very many; still there has been a little mourning, and muchanticipation of future evil, " replied the bishop. 

"That is needless, " said Edric; "they may all prepare to keep theirChristmas with good cheer. The Danes are sleeping, hibernating likebears in their winter caves. "

"While they are so near as the Wight, who can rest in peace?" saidEdnoth. 

"The Wight! it must be a hundred miles from here; the Danes have neverreached any spot so far from the coast as this. "

"Yet there is an uneasy belief that they will attack the inlanddistricts now that they have exhausted the districts on the coast, andthat we must be prepared to suffer as our brethren have done. "

"Before they leave their retreat again we shall be ready to meet them;our levies will be better trained and more numerous. "

"A curse seemed upon all our exertions this last year, " said Ednoth, sorrowfully. "We were defending our hearths and our homes, yet we wereeverywhere outmanoeuvred and beaten. It could not have been worse hadwe had spies and traitors in command. "

The king slightly coloured, for he resented all imputations on hisfavourite, and was about to make a sharp reply, when a voice whichmade him start, replied:

"Quite right, reverend father! as you say, success was impossiblewhile spies and traitors commanded our forces. "

All looked up in amazement; two guests had entered unbidden, and theking, the bishop, and Edric recognised Prince Edmund. 

"The unseemly interruption is a sufficient introduction to thecompany. I need not, my friends, present to you my turbulent sonEdmund, or the attendant he has picked up. "

"No need whatsoever, if you will first allow us to explain the reasonsof our presence here. We have somewhat startling news from the enemy. "

"The enemy, by my last advices, lies quiet in the Isle of Wight, " saidEdric. 

"I will not dispute your knowledge, my lord Edric, " replied thePrince, "considering the intimacy you stand on with Sweyn. "

"Intimacy! I would sooner own intimacy with the Evil One. "

"You might own that, too, without much exaggeration, since the goodbishop will bear me witness that he is the father of lies. "

"Edmund, this is unbearable, " said the king. 

"Pardon, my father and liege, but truth will out. "

The company sat in amazement, while the hand of Edric playedconvulsively with the hilt of his dagger; meanwhile Edmund ate, andgave to Alfgar, ere he spake again. 

"Stay, Edric, " whispered the king; "thou art my Edric. I was neverfalse to thee, nor will I be now; did I not, for thy sake, look overthe death of Elfhelm of Shrewsbury, and put out the eyes of his sons?canst thou not trust me now?"

Thus strengthened, Edric remained, and uneasy whispers passed aroundthe assembly. 

At last Edmund looked up. 

"When the flesh is weak through toil and fasting, speech is noteloquent, but now listen, all Englishmen true, and I will speak out. "

He told his tale, how he had conceived suspicions that the Danesintended a winter descent; how he had risked his life (in theexuberance of youthful daring) to ascertain the truth; how, trustingto his knowledge of Carisbrooke, wherein he had spent many pleasantdays in his boyhood, he had ventured amongst the Danes as a gleeman, in imitation of Alfred of old; how there he had assisted, unsuspected, at a meeting of the council in the great hall, and heard it decided toinvade England, and finally how he had escaped. And then he continued:

"And in that council I heard that the Danes had a secret friend in theEnglish army, who ever gave them due warning of our movements, and whocaused all the miscarriage of our last campaign. Stand forth, EdricStreorn, for thou art the man, and my sword shall prove it, if needbe. "

"Edmund, thou ravest, " cried the king; "produce thy witnesses. "

"Alfgar, son of Anlaf, answer; whom didst thou espy talking withSweyn?"

"Edric Streorn. "

"How didst know him?"

"Because he threatened my life on St. Brice's night, and I had oftenseen him while dwelling in Mercia. "

"A Dane witnessing against a free-born Englishman? Can it be endured?"cried Ethelred. "What, here, my royal guard!--here! here! your King isinsulted--insulted, and by his son and his son's minions. "

The guard rushed in, their weapons in their hands. 

"Seize my son, the false Edmund. "

"Here I am, " quietly said the hero of the English army, for such hewas, although not recognised as such by the government of his father. "Here I am; what Englishman will bind me?"

The men stood as if paralysed. 

"Will you not obey?" shouted the weak Ethelred, and stamped inimpotent anger on the floor. 

But they would not--they could not touch Edmund. 

Edric whispered in the king's ear. 

"I was wrong, " said the king; "retire, guards. 

"Edmund, come with me; tell me what you have seen. I will hear you, and judge between you and my Edric--judge fairly. "

"Wait till my return, Alfgar. "

Alfgar waited. No one spoke to him; all the company seemed utterlybewildered, as well they might be until, after the expiration of anhour, during which time Ednoth had left the hall, and the companybroke up by degrees, an officer of the court came and whispered in hisear that Edmund awaited him without the gates. 

He left the table at once, and proceeded beyond the precincts of thepalace, following his guide. 

"Where is the prince?"

"He has had a stormy interview with his father, and has just left him, refusing to lodge in the palace, to sleep without the precincts. I amto conduct you thither. "

Leaving the palace, they were passing through some thick shrubbery, when all at once two strong men sprang upon Alfgar. At the same momenthis attendant turned round and assisted his foes. He struggled, but hewas easily overpowered, when his captors led him away, until, passinga postern gate in the western wall of the town, they crossed anembankment, and came upon the river. There they placed him on board asmall boat, and rowed rapidly down the stream. 

In the space of a few minutes they ran the boat ashore in the midst ofdense woods which fringed the farther bank, and there they forced himto land, and led him upwards until, deep in the woods, they came uponan old timbered house. They knocked at the door, which was speedilyopened by a man of gigantic stature and ruffianly countenance, bywhose side snarled a mastiff as repulsive as he. 

"Here, Higbald, we have brought thee a prisoner from our lord. "

The wretch looked upon Alfgar with the eyes of an ogre bent ondevouring a captive, and then said:

"The chamber where blind Cuthred was slaughtered looks out on thewoods behind where no one passes, and it is strong; it will be betterfor you to take him there. "

And he drew aside to let them pass. 

"Here, Wolf" said the uncouth gaoler, "smell him, and see you have toguard him. "

The dog seemed to comprehend. He smelt around the prisoner, thendisplayed his huge fangs, and growled, as if to tell Alfgar what hisfate would be if he tried to escape. 

The poor lad turned to his captors who had brought him there, for theyseemed more humane than his new gaoler. 

"For pity's sake, tell me why I am brought here--what crime I havecommitted. "

No reply. 

"At least bear a message to one who will think I have deserted him inhis need. "

Again they were silent. 

They had ascended a rough staircase. At the summit a passage led pasttwo or three doors to one made of the strongest plank, andstrengthened with iron. 

They opened it, thrust him in, showed him, by the light of theirtorches, a bed of straw in the corner. 

"There you can lie and sleep as peacefully as at Carisbrooke, " saidone of his guards. 

"And let me tell you, " added Higbald, "that it will be certain deathto try to get away; for if you could escape me, my dog Wolf, whoprowls about by day and night, would tear you in pieces before any onecould help you. He has killed half-a-dozen men in his day. "

Like a poor wounded deer which retires to his thicket to die, Alfgarthrew himself down upon the bed of straw. His reflections were very, very bitter. 

"What would Edmund think of him?"

"He will know I am faithful. He will not think that the lad whose lifehe saved has deserted him. He will search till he find me even here. "

Thus in alternate hope and despair he sank at last to sleep--naturehad its way--even as the criminal has slept on the rack. 

CHAPTER XIV. THE SON AND THE FAVOURITE. 

A stormy scene had meanwhile taken place in an interior chamber of thepalace of the bishop, which had been metamorphosed into a councilchamber for the king. There were present Ethelred himself, hisirrepressible son, the traitor Edric, the bishop, the sheriff of theshire, and the reeve of the borough, with the captain of thehus-carles, or royal guard. 

"We all need Divine guidance at this moment, " said Edric, clasping hishands meekly; "would you, my lord and king, ask the bishop to open ourproceedings with especial prayer for the grace of meekness. "

"Hypocrite!" said Edmund, with a sound like the gnashing of teeth. 

The bishop, however, said the form generally used at the meetings ofcouncil, but omitted to notice the special suggestion of Edric. 

"The case before us, " said the king, "is a difficult and trying one, but one which we must discharge in our bounden duty towards oursubjects. Perhaps it is well that the accusation so often urged bybackbiters against our faithful subject Edric should--"

"Your majesty begs the question when you call that coward 'faithful. '"

"Silence, Edmund, " said the king, sternly, "you are hardly yet of age, yet you dare to interrupt me. I was going to say that it is a goodthing the accusation should at length be plainly made, and not spokenin a corner by men who are afraid to speak out. "

"Lest they should get the reward of Elfhelm of Shrewsbury, " addedEdmund. 

The bishop here interposed. 

"Prince, remember that God has said, 'Honour thy father. '"

"Has he not somewhere also said, 'Parents, provoke not your childrento anger'?"

"God judge between you, then, " said the bishop, "but I warn you thatyou appear the greater transgressor. "

"Meanwhile, " said Edric, "I feel like a man who is being put unjustlyto the torture. What is the accusation against me?--let it be statedin plain words. "

"That just after the army disbanded in October, you visited the campof Sweyn, and gave him to understand that the country was at hismercy, opposition being removed. "

"What day of the month?"

"I do not know the exact day. "

"Perhaps it was in the Greek calends, " said Edric. 

"I do not know when the Greek calends are, nor do I want to; my motherspent her time, I thank God, in teaching me to speak the truth, and tobe true to my country, and not in teaching me outlandish gibberish. "

"Still, " said the bishop, "it is important to learn the day. "

"Alfgar can perhaps inform you, but one day must have been much likeanother to him in the Danish camp. "

"His statement would need verification, " said Ednoth. 

"He is as true and brave as any man here. "

"Of course, all Danes are true and brave, " said Edric. 

"He is a Christian. "

"Yes; I think he became one on St. Brice's day, " suggested Edric. 

"To save his life, no doubt, " said the sheriff. 

Meanwhile Ethelred had changed colour, and Edric cried out:

"Have we not forgotten in whose presence we are? The king, who wasquite ignorant of the mistaken zeal which misinterpreted his wishesthat day, cannot bear to be reminded of it. He is all too merciful andgentle for such days as ours. "

"I suppose he put on mourning for Elfhelm, " whispered Edmund in thebishop's ear. 

"Forget not that he is your father. "

"We are wasting time, " said the king. "Edric, what is your answer tothis accusation?"

"That when the army disbanded I went on pilgrimage to the shrine ofSt. Joseph at Glastonbury, and can produce, in the time requisite fora messenger to go and return, an attestation to that effect. Here, " hesaid, putting his hand to his bosom, and drawing out a reliquary, "isa holy thorn plucked from St. Joseph's tree. "

"Art thou not ashamed, my son, to have brought such a charge againstthe venerator of the Saints, one of the few in whom faith yet lives?"

"No, for I do not believe he was ever there at all. "

"Witness the holy thorn. "

"Thorns may be plucked in bushels round Dorchester or any otherplace. "

"It is a question of pure testimony, " said the bishop. 

"It is, " added the sheriff and the reeve. 

"Then, may I produce my witness?" said Edmund. 

"Certainly, " said the king. 

"By all means, " added Edric. 

The bishop called an attendant, and ordered him to fetch Alfgar. 

"Before he enters I must remind you all, " said Edric, "that the wordof a Dane is to be opposed to that of a Christian. "

"I have already said that Alfgar is a Christian. "

But Edric had already, by his adroit suggestion about St. Brice's day, predisposed the company to doubt the genuineness of Alfgar'sconversion. 

A long pause succeeded, which no one seemed to care to break. Ethelredwas anxious for his favourite; the traitor himself was studying how tomeet the accusation; the Prince was furious, and was striving in vainto repress his surging passions, the others were perplexed. 

The messenger returned after a time to say that Alfgar had left thepalace. 

"Left the palace!" said Edmund. 

"About half-an-hour since. "

"There is some vile treason here, " said Edmund. 

"Treason! on whose part?" said Edric. 

"Thine, villain. "

"I am glad you think so, for you give me an opportunity ofdemonstrating to the court how unreasonable your hatred makes you, andhow unjust. I have not left the king's presence since your firstappearance. "

"It is true, " said Ethelred. 

Edmund was completely baffled. 

"It appears to me, " said the king, "that he fears the discovery of hisvillainy, and has taken himself off. I will offer a fitting reward tothe man who shall produce him; meanwhile, it is useless to continuethis scene. "

"Wait at least a few minutes, " said Edmund, and went forth himself. 

Vainly he sought through all the courts of the palace--once he thoughtAlfgar, whose fidelity he never suffered himself to doubt, might be inthe chapel, and went there in vain. 

At last he found a servitor who had seen him go with some men into thecity, and hurried forth in search of him. He passed through all thestreets inflaming the curiosity of the watchmen; the darkness (forthere were very few lamps or lights of any kind, in those days, forpublic use) was intense, a drizzling rain was falling, and at length, weary, wet, and dispirited, he returned to the palace, and found thatthe council, tired of waiting, had at length broken up. 

The bishop offered him hospitality, evidently sympathising with hisdistress, and once suggested a doubt of the fidelity of his page, butEdmund repelled it instantly. 

"He is true as life, " he said. 

"But the king himself is witness that Edric has not left hispresence. "

"If not, he has plenty of villains about him to anticipate his orders, vile as Godwin, port-hund of Shrewsbury. Depend upon it they havemurdered him, but if so, I will have vengeance, such vengeance--I willchallenge the villain Edric to single combat. "

"The Church would forbid it. "

"Do you then sympathise with the hypocrite?"

"Alas, my son! who can read the heart of man? I know not what tothink. "

"But you could read the history of the last campaign. A fool might--Ibeg pardon--were not all our plans known beforehand? Did not all ourenterprises fail? Were not all our ambushes anticipated? Did we notfall into all theirs? If they had had a prophet like Elisha, who toldthe king of Israel all Benhadad said in his council chamber, theycouldn't have managed better. Can you explain this?"

"No, my son. "

"Then I can, for I heard Sweyn say that they had a friend in theEnglish camp. "

"Then you actually put your head in the lion's mouth, prince?" and thegood bishop, purposely to relieve the prince's mind, drew out from himall the story of his late adventures. 

Deep was the distrust which Ednoth himself entertained of thefair-speaking Edric, yet he would not encourage the Etheling infurther ill-timed opposition to his father. 

So at last Edmund slept, and trusted that with the morn he should findAlfgar; but the morn came, and all his inquiries were vain. 

The chamber in which Alfgar was confined contained a box-like recessfor the straw bed, a chair, and a rough table, and these were all thecomforts at his disposal, but they were enough for one in that hardyage. It was very strongly built, not a loose plank about it, althoughthe wind found its way through numerous crevices, to the slightdiscomfort of the inmate. 

But not one hour of sleep could Alfgar take all that night. What wouldthe Etheling think of him? was his constant thought, he who had savedhis life at the risk of his (the Etheling's) own. Must he not thinkthat the lad whose life he had saved had been false to him? and thisthought was agony to the faithful and true heart of the prisoner. 

He scarcely doubted for one moment into whose hands he hadfallen--that he was in Edric Streorn's power. The only thing he couldnot quite comprehend was, why they had thought it worth while toimprison him, when murder would seem the more convenient mode ofremoving an unpleasant witness. 

Early on the following day he heard some people approach the door ofthe house, and heard them admitted. Shortly afterwards a firm stepascended the stair, and the door opened. 

Edric Streorn stood before him. 

The captor eyed his captive with a look of conscious pride, and saidwith some complacence, "You see, and perhaps repent, your rashness inthe accusation you made. "

"It was true. "

"I do not think it worth my while to deny it here; but what ofthat?--I am an Englishman by birth, but (let us say) a Dane by choice. You are a Dane by the fortune of birth, but an Englishman by choice;the worse choice, you will find, of the two. "

Alfgar felt confused. 

"But I did not come here to exchange compliments with you, nor toprove, as to the fools you have chosen to serve, that I was onpilgrimage at the time you name. I have a direct purpose in detainingyou here, for I have lately seen Sweyn. "

"Traitor!"

"I thought we had agreed that we could not throw stones at each otheron that account. Well, the gentle Sweyn has taken your evasion verymuch to heart, and earnestly desires to repossess himself of yourperson; but for this, my easiest plan would have been to rid myself ofso troublesome a witness in a more speedy manner, and you might erethis have fed the fishes of the Thames. 

"Therefore, " he continued, "unless you can satisfy me of two or threepoints, I shall deliver you to Sweyn. "

Alfgar thought at first that this was simply an idle threat, since itwould be almost impossible to convey him secretly through the countryto the Isle of Wight. Edric understood his thoughts. 

"You forget, " he said, "that Sweyn will shortly be here; your friend, the Etheling, may have told you that, if you did not know it before;he is telling it to everybody, but no one believes him. Only think, noone will believe that Sweyn could be so audacious, and they thinkthat, listening behind walls and in cupboards, the Etheling, perhaps, drank too much of what he found there--and that was all. Well, whenSweyn comes, he may, if he will, make a public example to allapostates in your honoured person; meanwhile Edmund thinks you havedeserted him. "

No torturer ever seemed to take a keener pleasure in the throes of hisvictim, than Edric in the mental agony he kindled in the breast of hisunhappy prisoner. 

"But I said I might release you, or at least mitigate your fate, onone condition, that you answer me a plain question directly andplainly. Under what name does Edmund travel, and what disguise, anddoes he purpose to trust himself in the Danish camp again? Where is heat present residing? he has disappeared from the palace. "

"Monster!" said Alfgar, "you tempt like Satan. Away, and leave me tomy fate. "

"You will think better of it by and by when confinement upon bread andwater has tamed you. I will come once more, but it will be the lasttime; and, mark you, should your people be defeated--the Danes Imean--still your escape would not necessarily follow; the house mighttake fire, it is of timber, and would soon burn down; a sad misfortuneit would be. 

"Good morning. I am going to mass with the king; shall I say a Paterand an Ave for you, since you are prevented from being there. Thesaints have you in their holy keeping!"

His manner throughout had been like that of a cat playing with amouse, and there was quite a gratified smile upon his lips as he went. 

Strange to say, Alfgar felt less miserable after he was gone. Thewickedness of Edric seemed so great, his hypocrisy so unblushing, thatin his simple faith Alfgar could not believe that he would be allowedto succeed. Many a holy text in the Psalms came to his mind, andseemed to assure him of Divine protection. 

"I myself have seen the ungodly in great power; and flourishing like agreen bay tree. 

"I went by, and, lo! he was gone; I sought him, but his place couldnowhere be found. 

"Seek innocency, and take heed to the thing that is right: for thatshall bring a man peace at the last. "

"So, come what will, " said he, "I will trust in Him and never will Isave my life by uttering one word which might betray the innocent. "

In this manner days lengthened into weeks. He tried in vain to openany intercourse with his ferocious jailor, whose ward was sometimesshared by a comrade, when there was much ungodly revelry below, andsnatches of Danish war songs mingled with profane oaths. The deep, deep bay of the mastiff sometimes gave warning of the advent of astranger, or of the step heard from the distance, in the still deepnight; but this was all that Alfgar could learn of the outer world, from which he was banished at so critical a moment. 

CHAPTER XV. FATHER CUTHBERT'S DIARY AT CLIFFTON. 

SUNDAY BEFORE ADVENT. --

The evening, after the Vesper service in the church was over, anddarkness had closed in, we all sat down to our evening meal. The doorswere shut to keep out the storm, and I had already said grace, whenthe Etheling suddenly appeared. 

His manner struck us all. He looked wild and agitated, and his firstwords cast a chill over us. 

"Where is Alfgar?"

"Is he not with you, what has happened?" said I and Herstan, speakingin the same breath. 

"No, I have lost him. I had hoped to find him here; they must havemurdered him, " he cried. 

"Murdered him?"

"Yes, he was too dangerous to Edric to be suffered to live. I mighthave foreseen it; and they have put him out of the way by cowardlyassassination, " insisted the Etheling. 

There was too much reason in his words. 

"Besides, " said he, "if he were well and uninjured, would he not havecome here, where he was sure of a welcome?"

"I will go to Dorchester at once, " said Herstan. 

"It is useless, " said Edmund; but my brother, having learnt all thatthe prince could tell him, mounted and rode into the town. 

Meanwhile Edmund evidently needed our care; we found he had not eatenall day. 

"I have risked my life for my country, " he said, "and now that I bringtidings which ought to circulate through the land like the wind, androuse every man to action, I am disbelieved. Nay, it is hinted that Idrank too much Danish wine and mead, and misunderstood what I heard. Icould brain the man who dared say so to my face. I could--and would. Meanwhile no steps are taken, no levies called out; but I will myselfalarm the country. The innocent blood shall not be on my head. "

"Surely they must heed your warning, " said we all together. 

"Not they. The fox, Edric, pretended that it was all moonshine. "

"But did you not expose his treachery?" asked I. 

"I tried to do so; but he pulled out a bit of some hedge, which hesaid was a holy thorn from St. Joseph's tree at Glastonbury, and thathe was there on pilgrimage when Alfgar saw him--saw him, mark you--atthe Danish camp on the borders of Sussex; and I saw men, I won'tmention names, who had more than once taken reward to slay theinnocent, look as if they would go down on their knees to this holythorn, which wasn't a holy thorn at all, but plucked from some hedgehard at hand. Did not Edric mock them in his heart! I should like tostrangle him. "

How I thought of those who tithed mint and rue, and all manner ofherbs, and passed over justice, mercy, and the love of God. 

So, in unavailing complaints, midnight drew on, and we heard the soundof my brother's horse. 

He soon entered the room. We saw at a glance that he had laboured invain, and spent his strength for nought. 

"No one has seen him, " he said. 

"Have you asked many people?" we inquired. 

"Yes, scores. The sheriff, the bishop, the watchmen, thetradesfolk--no one has seen or heard aught. I will go again tomorrow. "

"Meanwhile, do the people know what passed at the banquet last night?"

"No; it has all been kept quiet, " was the reply. 

We could do no more, and all retired to rest. I have sat up to say mymattins and finish this diary. It is now nearly the third hour of themorn, and--

Monday Night, 23d Nov. 1006. --

I had written as far as the word "and, " when I was alarmed by a loudcry from the chamber next my own, which was occupied by the Etheling. I rose, and knocked at the door, but, receiving no answer, opened itand went in. 

I saw at once that the prince was delirious; the fever, which I hadmarked in his eyes and manner, but which he struggled against, had atlength overcome his brave spirit. 

Just as I entered the room, bearing my torch, he sprang out of bed. 

"There is a snake under my pillow. "

I tried to soothe him. 

"It is Edric; he is turned into a snake, and is trying to sting me. Kill him! kill him!"

I got him into bed with some difficulty, and sat by him, after givinghim a composing draught--for I never travel without a few simples athand, in case of sickness amongst those to whom I minister. 

He slept at last, but it was evident to me that exposure andexcitement had grievously injured his health, and that he was indanger of prolonged sickness. Ever and anon he raved in his sleepabout Sweyn, Edric, his father, and Alfgar, mixing them up in his mindmost strangely: but the object of his abhorrence was ever Edric, whilehe spoke of Alfgar, "poor Alfgar!" as a father might speak of a son. 

I watched by him all through the night, and in the morning he wasevidently too ill to rise. His mind became clear for a short time, andyet his memory was so confused that he scarcely comprehended where hewas, or how he got here. 

So my return to Abingdon is indefinitely delayed, for Herstan and mysister both insist on my staying till he is out of danger, if Godwill; and indeed I know no one else to whose care I could willinglycommit him. 

We think it best not to let his father or Edric know where he is, forwe know how his death would rejoice the latter, and the wish is oftenfather to the action. A little would turn the scale now. 

Herstan has gone into Dorchester again to inquire about Alfgar, and toascertain whether any action has been taken consequent upon Edmund'sintelligence from Carisbrooke. 

Saturday. --Vigil of St. Andrew, and Eve of Advent Sunday. --

All this week I have been watching by the sickbed of the Etheling. 

I hope the crisis is past, but he is still very weak. He has beendelirious nearly the whole time, and today has but a confused idea ofthings around him. 

All our inquiries about Alfgar have been fruitless, but there was onecircumstance which we learned, which seemed to me to bear somereference to the matter. 

The ferryman, whose hut is situate at the bend of the river below theSynodune hills, where people cross for Wittenham, says that late onthe night in question a boat with four people passed down the river, and that it struck him that one only rowed, while two of the restseemed guarding the fourth passenger. He did not know the boat, yet hethought he knew every boat on the river. 

This he has told to Herstan and others, but no further discovery hasensued. 

But another important matter has claimed our attention. The king lefton Monday without making any efforts to profit by the Etheling'sdiscovery at Carisbrooke; but we could not in conscience let thematter rest. So Herstan and I went on to Dorchester on Wednesday, andI obtained an audience of the bishop, while he sought the sheriff. 

The bishop received me very kindly, and talked to me a great deal about the happy days of Dunstan, when peace and plenty ruledeverywhere; but I led the conversation to the point I aimed at, andtold him frankly how alarmed we were at Abingdon about Edmund'stidings. 

"And so was I, " said he, "and I have persuaded the king to placeguards and watchers all through the coasts opposite the Wight, andwith Edric's aid we elaborated a goodly plan. "

"Indeed, " said I, "but I wish Edric had nought to do with it. "

"So did I at first, but I feel convinced that the young Dane whovanished so suspiciously must have deceived the prince concerning thepresence of Edric in the Danish camp, and that we have no sufficientreason for thinking him such a child of hell as he would be could hebetray his country thus cruelly. It would be Satanic wickedness. Heis, I believe, a bad and untrustworthy man, but not quite so bad asall that. "

I tried to explain my reasons for being of a contrary opinion, andasked what was the plan. 

"Advanced guards have been placed all along the coasts of Hampshire, beacons prepared on every hill, with constant attendants, so that theDanes would find their coming blazed over the country at once. "

"But if so, what men have we to oppose to them?"

"The sheriff has promised that the levies shall appear in case ofneed. "

"Does he realise the danger?"

"I hardly think he believes in it; but the beacons will givesufficient warning. "

"Who has arranged the guards and chosen the sites for the beacons?"

"Edric, of course, as general of the forces under the king. "

I could say no more--it was useless--but I felt very sick at heart. After the noon meat I left the palace, and found my brother ready todepart for home. His interview had been the counterpart of mine. Neither had he succeeded in convincing the sheriff that there was anydanger to be apprehended. 

Well, all we can do is to prepare ourselves for the worst. I find thatno tidings have been sent by any authority to the men of this estateto hold themselves in readiness for sudden alarm. I wonder whether thesame remissness prevails elsewhere. No one expects danger. The Danes, they say, never fight in winter. 

Advent Sunday, 1006. --

My patient was able to sit up for a short time today, but his weaknessis very pitiable to behold, and he dares not leave his room. Heinquired very earnestly after Alfgar, and I found great difficulty inpersuading him to commit the matter to God, which is all that we cando; for although the river has been dragged, the country searched, notidings have yet been obtained, and we can only believe that the poorlad has been secretly murdered and buried, or that he has been sentaway out of the country. 

"I had a strange dream about him, " said Edmund. "I thought that it wasmidnight of Christmas Eve, and that I was attending mass, when, justas the words were sung by the choir, 'Pax in terra, ' the scenesuddenly changed, and I stood in the dark on the chalk hills whichoverlook the Solent; by my side was a beacon ready laid for firing. Ithought next I saw the Solent covered with the warships of the Danes, who were advancing towards the English shore, and that I tried to firethe beacon, but all in vain, for the wood was wet through, and wouldnot burn. 

"Then I had a strange sense of woe and desolation, for my country wasin danger, and I could not even warn her. All at once I heard stepsrushing towards me, and Alfgar appeared bearing a lighted torch. Hethrust it into the pile, and it fired at once. Other beacon firesanswered it, and the country was aroused. Then I awoke. "

Saturday, December 5th, 1006. --

The week has again been spent mainly at Clifton. The prince is better, but only able to rise a few hours each day, and I fear a relapse wouldbe fatal. 

On Wednesday I visited Abingdon, and had a long conference with theabbot about the neglected warning Edmund had given; but he seemed tothink that the beacon fires and the guards placed near the sea coastsecure us sufficiently. Like all the world, he thinks that theEtheling has exaggerated the danger. 

I have written a full account of all things to my brother atAescendune. Father Adhelm is still there ministering to the flock. 

Saturday, December 12th, 1006. --

The week has passed monotonously enough. The Etheling is now able toleave his room, but the stormy weather, with its torrents of rain, makes it impossible for him to leave the house. The river hasoverflowed its banks; all the country around is like a lake. Weconsole him by telling him that all has been done which is possible, both to warn the people and learn the fate of Alfgar. He tries to lookcontented, but if he knew how little has really been done, and thatthat little has been in Edric's hands, he would not be so contented. 

Saturday, December 19th, 1006. --

A very severe frost has set in this week, and there has been muchsnow; the whole country is decked in her winter braveries forChristmas. O that it may pass in peace, as the birthday of the Princeof Peace should pass!

I intend to spend it at Clifton, after which I shall return to myflock at Aescendune. 

Edmund has been out today, but the sharp air hurt his lungs, whichhave been grievously inflamed, and he was forced to return early. 

He has been so patient for one of his temperament, so grateful forattention shown him, one would hardly think the lion could be such alamb. He intends to receive the Blessed Sacrament of the Body andBlood of Christ on Christmas day in the little church of St. Michaelhere, and then he will leave for London in the course of the week. 

We have heard nothing of Alfgar--we fear there is no hope; but theprince clings to it, and says his dream will come true, and thatAlfgar has yet a great work to do. 

Christmas Eve, 1006. --

O happy happy Christmastide! All griefs seem hushed and all joyssanctified by the blessed mystery of the Incarnation. O that Mary'sblessed Son, the Prince of Peace, may indeed bring us peace on earth, and good will towards men!

The weather is beautiful. The stars shine as brightly tonight as ifthey were the lights about His throne; the very earth has deckedherself in her clear and spotless robe of snow in His honour. As forthe dear ones who were with us last Christmas--Bertric, Alfgar (for Ifear he is gone where I hope he keeps a happier Christmas)--they haveleft the heart less lonely, for if we miss them on earth they seem toattract us to heaven, which is yet more like home when we think of theloved and the lost who await us there. 

We sing a midnight mass in an hour in the little church, anothertomorrow at dawn, a third in the full daylight. All the good peoplehere will communicate, and the evening will be given up to suchmerrymaking as is befitting amongst Christians. All the ceorls andserfs will be at the Hall, and the prince will share theentertainment. Herstan and Bertha have been very busy preparing forit, as also their children, Hermann, Ostryth, and Aelfleda. 

But I must go and assist in decking the church for the midnightfestivity. 

CHAPTER XVI. THE FEAST OF CHRISTMAS. 

Alfgar had completely lost the reckoning of times and days since hisimprisonment, but he felt that weeks must have passed away, and thatthe critical period foretold by Edmund must be near, so he listenedanxiously for any intelligence from the world without. 

At last the weather became very cold, and being without a fire, hissufferings were great, until his ferocious gaoler, finding him quitestiffened, brought up a brazier of coals, which saved his prisoner'slife, while it filled the room with smoke, which could only escape bythe crevices in walls and roof, for to open a window would have beenas bad as to dispense with the fire, such was the state of the outerair. 

It was what we call an old-fashioned Christmas, in all its glory andseverity--a thing easy enough to bear, nay to enjoy, when men havewarm fires and plenty of food, but hard enough to endure where theseare absent. 

At last Alfgar could but conclude it was Christmastide, for Higbaldwas joined by two comrades, and they sang and rioted below in a waywhich showed that they had got plenty of intoxicating drink, and weremaking free with it. 

In the evening of the day Higbald brought him up his supper, staggering as he did so, and with it he brought in a bowl of hot mead. 

"Drink, " he said, "and drown care. It is Yuletide, and drink thou mustand shalt. "

Alfgar drank moderately, for sooth to say it was invigorating andwelcome that cold day, but Higbald finished the bowl then and there, and then staggering down, drew the outer bolt in such a way that itmissed the staple, which fact he was too drunk to perceive. 

Alfgar watched the action with eager eyes. It was the first time therehad been even a chance of escape. 

Meanwhile the evening sped by; and the noisy crew below quarrelled andsang, drank and shouted, while the bright moonlight--brighter as itwas reflected from the snow of that December night--stole over thescene. 

Not till then did Alfgar pass silently through the open door, andlisten at the head of the staircase. Before him was the outer door, the key in the lock. The question was--Could he reach it unobserved bymen or mastiff?

Liberty was worth the attempt. He descended the stairs softly. At thebottom he looked around. The door was fastened which led into thelarge hall where the gaolers were drinking. He advanced to the outerportal, when he heard the growl of the dog from behind the inner door. 

The moment was critical. Evidently his masters did not comprehend theaction of the too faithful brute, for they cursed and swore at it. Even then it growled, and the drunken fools--drunken they must havebeen indeed--threw some heavy missile at it, which caused it to yelpand cease its growling. 

Just then something flashed in the ray of moonlight which stole inthrough an aperture over the door. 

It was a sharp double-edged sword. 

He grasped it with eagerness. It was now a case of liberty or death. He knew how to wield it full well. 

Stealthily he turned the key and the door stood open. Still hiscaptors sang, and he caught the words:

"When we cannot get blood we can drink the red wine, The Sea King sang in his might;For it maddens the brain, it gives strength to the arm, And kindles the soul in the fight. "

Now he was on the outer side of the door, and he shut it, and thenlocked it and tossed the key into the snow. 

But which way was he to go? He could not make out the locality, but itwas evident that the hill rose above him, and he knew that from itssummit he could discern the bearings of places, so he resolved toascend. 

It was now about nine at night, an hour when our ancestors generallyretired to rest. All Alfgar's desire and hope--O how joyful ahope!--was to see from the hill the bearings of Clifton, and todescend, with all the speed in his power, towards it. He might arrivebefore they had retired to rest. So he ran eagerly forward. The moonwas bright, and the snow reflected so much light that locomotion waseasy. 

And now he became conscious that there was a strange gleam along thesnow on his left hand--a strange red gleam, which grew stronger andstronger as he advanced. It seemed above and below--to redden theskies, the frozen treetops with their glittering snow wreaths, and thesmooth surface beneath alike. 

Redder and redder as he ascended, until he suddenly emerged upon theopen hill. Before him were earthworks, which had been thrown up inolden wars, before Englishman or Dane had trodden these coasts. Hescrambled into a deep hollow filled with snow, then out again, and upto the summit, when he saw the cause of the illumination. 

Before him the whole country to the southeast seemed in flames. Village after village gave forth its baleful light; and even while hegazed the fiery flood burst forth in spots hitherto dark. He stood asone transfixed, until the wind brought with it a strange and fearfulcry, as if the exultation of fiends were mingled with the despairingcry of perishing human beings. 

He knew whence it came by the red light slowly stealing beyond thenext hill, and the fiery tongues of flame which rose heavenward, although the houses were hidden by the ground. 

It was from Wallingford, a town three miles below Dorchester. He knew, too, where he was himself; and the one impulse which rushed upon himwas to hasten to Clifton, where he trusted he might find Edmund, or, at least, hear of him in this dread emergency. He saw the villagelying beneath in the distance, and turned to rush downward, enteringthe wood in a different direction. 

But what sound is that which makes him start and pause?

It is the bay of the mastiff. He is pursued. He clasps his sword withdesperate tenacity, in which a foe might read his doom, and rushes on, crushing through the brushwood. 

Again the bay of the hound. 

Onward, onward, he tramples through bush and bramble, until he seeshis progress suddenly arrested by the dark-flowing river. 

He coasts along its banks, keeping up stream. The bay of the dog seemsclose at hand, and the trampling of human feet accompanies it. 

All at once he comes upon a road descending to the brink, and sees aferry boat at the foot of the descent. He rushes towards it andenters. The pole is in the boat. He unlooses the chain, but withdifficulty, and precious moments are lost. He hears the panting of theferocious beast just as he pushes the boat, with vigorous thrust, outinto the stream. 

The dog, followed closely by the men, is on the bank. The men curseand swear, but the dog plunges into the chilly stream, which, beingswollen, has too rapid a current to freeze. Alfgar sees the bruteswimming after the boat; he ceases to use the pole, but takes hissword, kneels on the stern of the boat, and waits for the mastiff. Itgains the boat, and tries to mount, when the keen steel is drivenbetween the forepaws to its very heart. One loud howl, and it floatsdown the stream, dyeing the waters with its life-blood. 

"Cursed Dane!" shouts Higbald. "thou shalt pay with thy own lifeblood. "

"When you catch me; and even then you must fight for it. Meanwhile, ifyou be an Englishman, warn the good people of Dorchester that theDanes are upon them. Your Edric has betrayed them. "

Reaching the other shore, Alfgar finds smooth meadows all covered withsnow. He knows his way now. A little higher up he strikes the mainroad which leads to Clifton, and rushes on past field and grove, pasthedgerow and forest. Behind him the heavens are growing angry withlurid light, before him the earth lies in stillness and silence; themoonbeams slumbering on placid river, glittering on frozen pool, orsilvering happy homesteads--happy hitherto. He sees the lights in thehall of Herstan yet burning, and casting their reflection abroad. Heis at the foot of the ascent leading up to it. One minute more and--

. . . . . . 

Christmas day was almost over when the population of Herstan's villageof Clifton obeyed the summons with alacrity to spend the evening inthe hall in feasting and merriment. They had all duly performed thereligious duties of the day, and had been greatly edified by thehomily of Father Cuthbert at mass; and now innocent mirth was to closethe hallowed day--mirth which they well believed was not alien to thebirthday of Him who once sanctified the marriage festivities at Canaby His first miracle. 

So thither flocked the young and the old: the wood rangers and huntersfrom the forests of Newenham, where Herstan had right of wood cutting;the men who wove baskets and hurdles of osier work from the riverbanks; the theows who cultivated the home farm; the ceorls who renteda hide of land here and a hide there--all, the grandfather and thegrandson, accepted the invitation to feast. The rich and the poor mettogether, for God was the Maker of them all. 

The huge Yule log burnt upon the hearth as it had done since it waslighted the night before; a profusion of torches turned night intoday; the tables groaned with the weight of the good cheer; in short, all was there which could express joy and thanksgiving. 

The supper was over; the wild boar roasted whole, the huge joints ofmutton and beef, the made dishes, the various preparations of milk, had disappeared, the cheerful cup was handed round; after which thetables were removed, the gleemen sang their Christmas carols, and allwent merry as a "marriage bell. "

Father Cuthbert, seated in a corner near the Yule log, with hisbrother-in-law and the Etheling, forgot all his apprehensions, andshared in the universal joy around him; if his thoughts were sometimeswith those who had once made Christmas bright to him--if he thoughtof the bright-haired Bertric, who had been the soul of last Yuletidefestivity at Aescendune, or of the desolated home there, he dismissedthe subject from his mind at once, and suffered no hint to drop whichcould dim the mirth of his fellow guests. 

Meanwhile, one of those whom he strove in vain to forget for the timedrew nearer and nearer; a haggard figure, wan and worn by painfulimprisonment, the garments dishevelled, the hair matted, the wholefigure wild with excitement, he drew near the outer gate. 

He heard the song of joy and peace within as he paused one momentbefore blowing the horn which hung at the outer gate. 

Peace! Peace!The whole wide world rejoiceth now, Let war and discord cease;Christ reigneth from the manger, Away with strife and danger;Our God, before whom angels bow, Each taught this lesson by his birth, Good will to men, and peace on earth. Peace! Peace!Hark, through the silent airAngelic songs declareGod comes on earth to dwellO hear the heavenly chorus swell, Good will to men, And on earth, peace. 

He could bear it no longer, the contrast was too painful, he mustbreak the sweet charm, the hallowed song, for the sky was reddeningyet more luridly behind him, and each moment he expected to seeDorchester burst forth into flames. O what a Christmas night!

He blew the horn, and had to blow it again and again before he washeard. 

At length a solitary serf came to the gate:

"Who is there?"

"A messenger for the Etheling; is Prince Edmund with you? I would seehim. "

"All are welcome tonight, but I fear you will find the Ethelingill-disposed to leave the feast. "

"Let me in. "

Astonished at the tone of the request, the porter reluctantlycomplied, first looking around. 

"Why, thou art wild and breathless; is aught amiss?"

"Step out and look over the hills; what dost thou see?"

"Why, the heaven is in fire; is it the northern lights?"

"Southern, you mean; the Danes are upon us. "

Staggered by the tidings, the man no longer opposed his entrance, andAlfgar staggered into the hall, forgetting that he was come amongstthem like one risen from the dead. 

He entered the hall at first unnoticed, but the merry laughter andcheerful conversation withered before his presence, as of one who cameto blast it. 

Father Cuthbert and Edmund, amongst others, turned round to see whatcaused the lull, and started from their seats as they beheld at theend of the room Alfgar, his face pale as one risen from the dead, hisblack locks hanging dishevelled around his neck, his garments torn, his whole person disordered. At first they really believed he hadreturned from the tomb. 

They hesitated, but for one moment in speechless surprise, then rushedforward. 

"Alfgar!" cried the Prince. 

"My son!" cried Father Cuthbert, "whence hast thou come? dost thou yetlive?"

"Father; Prince; I live to warn you--the Danes, the Danes!" and hesank fainting into the arms of Herstan. 

"Surely he raves, " said they all. 

The porter here ventured to speak. 

"My lord, please go to the front of the house and look over thewater. "

Father Cuthbert and Edmund at once left the hall, followed by severalothers. 

The mansion was seated on a considerable elevation; below them rolledthe Isis; across the river a couple of miles of flat meadow land laybetween them and the Synodune hills, and beyond the lessening range ofthose hills, on the southeast, they looked, and behold the smoke ofthe country went up as the smoke of a furnace. 

CHAPTER XVII. FOR HEARTH AND HOME. 

The inhabitants of Clifton stood on the terrace in front of the hall, gazing upon the fiery horizon, wrapped in emotions of surprise andalarm. Living as they did in an unsettled age, and far more preparedthan we should be for such a contingency, yet the sense of the rapidapproach of a cruel and remorseless foe struck terror into manyhearts. 

But they had one amongst them to whom warfare and strife were a secondnature--one in whom the qualities which form the hero were very fullydeveloped. He gazed with sadness, but without fear, at the comingstorm, and to their late patient the inmates of the hall turned foradvice and aid in their dread emergency. 

"What shall we do?" asked Herstan, gazing with indescribable feelingsat those who clung to him for support. 

"The case is clear as the day, " said the prince. "The storm I foretoldin vain has broken over the land, and the levies are not ready to meetit. Listen; you may hear the sounds of alarm from Dorchester evenhere. They see their danger. "

The tolling of the alarm bells, the sound of distant shouts, theblowing of trumpets rolled in a confused flood of noise across theintervening space--a distance of between two and three miles--andmanifested the intense alarm of the city, so cruelly aroused fromdreams of peace. 

"But what shall we do?"

"Defend the place if attacked; it is well adapted for defence. Youhave the river on one side, and a cliff no Dane could scale in theface of our battle-axes; on the other side, your earthworks andpalisades keep the foe at a distance from the main building. How manyable-bodied men are present now?"

"Happily we have all our force; the feast has brought them all here. There would be from sixty to seventy men, besides a score of boys. "

"And how are you provided with weapons?"

"Each man has a battle-axe, and there are scores of spears in thearmoury. "

"And arrows?"

"Whole sheaves of them; and as good yew bows as were ever bent. "

"Come, we shall do; and now about provisions?"

"You see we have bounteous fare now, but it would not last many days. "

"Many days we shall not want it--many days? Why, the levies must allbe out within twenty-four hours, and the Danes are not strong enoughto maintain themselves here. It is but a raid; but they might all havebeen taken or slain had my father but believed me. As it is, they haveshed much innocent blood by this time. "

"You think, then, our buildings are capable of defence?"

"Assuredly; it would be madness to sacrifice such a position. If theDanes are about in the neighbourhood, it would be far more dangerousto expose your helpless ones without the fortifications. Have you allyour people here, or are there a few sick?"

"A few sick, only. "

"Let them be sought at once; the heathen will be revelling like fiendsabout the country. For the present I think Dorchester and Abingdonsafe. Wallingford, if I may judge by the light over the hills, hasutterly fallen. They were probably taken unawares; and their defenceswere never good. Now we must at once to work. "

"Prince, you have more experience of war than I; you will be ourcommander. "

"I accept the post. To tell the truth, it will be a treat for me afterthe illness and confinement I have gone through; the thought of thestruggle makes me feel myself again. "

And so this strangely constituted man went forth and spoke to theassembled multitude, who stood passively gazing at the distantconflagration. 

"Now, Englishmen, a few words to you all. We shall have, I hope, tofight these Danes; and for the honour of our country must even quitourselves like men. Why should not the Englishman be a match for theDane? ay, more than a match for the cutthroat heathen? Here we standon a rock with our defence secure; and here we will live or die indefence of our women and children. What say you all?"

"We will live or die with you. "

"Well said, men. Now, one good hearty cheer; no, stop, I should likethem to be caught in their own traps. I know their plan. If they findthe good people of Dorchester are awake, as the noise shows, they willswarm all over the neighbourhood like wasps after honey, to plunderthe isolated houses and farms, and carry off all they can; and thisplace is too conspicuous--too much of a city on a hill--to be hidden. Well, we will be ready for them. Now, first of all, we must set ouroutposts around to give us due warning of their approach; and thenevery man must arm himself as best he can, and let me see what figureyou can all make. "

He was interrupted by a childish voice, and saw Herstan's little son, a boy of twelve years, touching his garment, and looking at him withunfeigned admiration. 

"May I not fight the Danes, Prince?"

"No, you are too young; you must go and take care of your mother andsisters. "

"I don't want to be shut up with the women. I have killed a wolf. Ishot him with my bow in Newenham wood. "

"Well, we will see by and by, my brave boy. We shall have work forall; go and arm with the rest. 

"Well, Alfgar?"

"Let my post be near you. "

"You will fight in this quarrel, then?"

"Yes; to save Christian blood. "

"Then I adopt you as an Englishman--Dane no longer. I know yourcourage and coolness, and will employ it where it is wanted. Now, youknow the place; come and place the outposts where they can retireeasily. "

The small sally port, as it would have been called in later times, wasopened, and two men were in each case posted together all round thebuilding, under cover of trees, at convenient distances. The treesimmediately around the house had been cut down a few weeks earlier, byorder of Herstan, who saw they might afford cover to an enemy, in casethe prince's prophecies were fulfilled, as proved now to be the case. 

The building was large and irregular, and had been added to at varioustimes, the hall, looking over the river, forming its most conspicuousportion; but it had not originally been built for purposes of defence, and could not have endured the Danish assault for a moment, but forexternal defences, utterly independent of the building, which had beenrecently added; a mound, surmounted by crossed palisades, skilfullystrengthened by osier bands, and a deep outer ditch, now full of snow, surrounded the building on three sides. The fourth was defended by theriver, which, being full owing to the late rains, rushed impetuouslyalong below. 

"Alfgar, " said Edmund, "ask Father Cuthbert to see that all thehelpless ones--women and children--are safely shut up in an innerapartment, where no Danish arrow can find them. "

This was accomplished, and Father Cuthbert cheered them all with hiscalm placid manner; reassuring this one and cheering that, seemingquite insensible to fear himself: one moment all sympathy, then allbrightness, his presence was invaluable in the crisis. 

"And now, " said Edmund, "to the stables; the horses and cattle must beturned loose tonight, or the Danes will burn them in their barns andsheds. "

The farm buildings lay some little distance without, and the Ethelingand Alfgar, with two or three farm servants, carried out the taskhastily but effectually. Duties were meanwhile assigned to all theable-bodied women and boys: some provided buckets and ladders, that, in case the Danes attempted to kindle a flame, they might attempt invain; others tore up lint and prepared bandages for the wounded, whileothers passed into the upper apartments to see that no lights remainedwhich could direct the aim of the foe. 

The night had somewhat changed its character while all these thingswere going on; clouds obscured the moon, and light flakes of snowcommenced to fall. The wind began to moan, as if a storm were at hand. 

Alfgar visited the outposts while Edmund assigned their severalstations to the men, who were now armed in readiness for the defence. When the former reached the post on the river's bank lower down, hesaw that the sentinel had thrown himself ear to the earth, and waslistening intently; he imitated his example. 

A deep dull sound from the distance was heard, and Alfgar recognisedthe tread of an approaching host. 

"Let us withdraw, " he said. 

They fell back quietly; Alfgar, passing rapidly round, warned all theother sentinels, and when all had entered, the gates were closed; allwas done in profound silence. 

Then Edmund caused the men to fit their arrows to the string, and tolie upon the inward slope of the earthworks, so as to be invisible; heplaced all the rest of the men at the windows and loopholes of thebuilding. Similarly prepared, Edmund, with Alfgar and young Hermann byhis side, waited at the window commanding the gateway, when the LadyBertha came up to them. 

"Has not Father Cuthbert returned?"

"Returned?"

"Yes, he went to the church to bring in the sacred vessels andvestments. "

Alfgar rose instantly. 

"I will go and seek him, " he cried. 

"Then pass out by the postern gate, on the angle nearest the church; Ifear the danger is great, but he must be told that the foe is near, orhe may fall into their hands. "

Alfgar left the hall and passed to an angle of the defences where alittle gate led out towards the church; the bridge had been removed, and he had absolutely to descend into the ditch amongst the deep snow. 

Emerging, he crossed the burial yard, and found the good fatherreturning heavily laden with the precious vessels and other objects hehad been able to save. 

"Father, " he said; "the enemy is near. "

"Indeed! so soon?"

"We must enter by the postern gate. "

"I could hardly cross the snow burdened as I am; is it unsafe to trythe other gate? I hear no sound, see no symptom of danger. "

They paused; all was so quiet that Alfgar yielded, and they passedround the mansion. The drawbridge was up, and no danger seemed near;the trees were in deep shadow, for the clouds, obscuring the moon, made the night very dark. 

Alfgar gave the signal, and the drawbridge was lowered; but they hadscarcely set foot upon it when dark figures rushed from the shadowsbehind them. The bridge, which they both had passed, was actuallyrising, when the foremost Dane leapt upon it, but was rewarded by ablow from the battle-axe of Alfgar, which sent him tumbling into thesnow; two or three others leapt forward and clung to the edge of thebridge, but fell into the ditch like the first; the two fugitivesentered, and the gate was closed. 

Then the awful war cry of the Danes arose from earth to heaven, chilling the very blood and, disdaining all further concealment, themurderous warriors rushed forward, doubtless expecting to find theplace almost undefended, and to carry the defences at a rush. 

But they were soon fatally undeceived, for so perfect had beenEdmund's arrangements, that a storm of arrows burst from all parts ofthe building and embankment, laying nearly half the assailants dyingor wounded on the ground. 

Still the survivors threw themselves into the ditch, and strove invain to pass the palisades, which projected over their heads, andwhich were vigorously defended by spear and battle-axe. 

But in one place a gigantic warrior succeeded in hewing an aperturewith his axe, wielded by giant strength, and all might have been losthad not Edmund perceived it, and rushed to its defence, collecting byhis shout half-a-dozen followers. Several Danes strove to pass thebreach; one was already through, and Edmund attacked him; meanwhiletwo others had crept through, but were cut off from their fellows, forthe English rallied in front and presented an impenetrable barrierwith their spears, while from the windows above the arrows rained uponthe assailants. 

Edmund's axe had found its victim; Herstan, who was by his side, hadengaged and wounded the second; and, meanwhile, Alfgar, who wasglaring about him for a foe, discovered the third, whose aspects andform were at once recognised by him. 

"What! you, Higbald!" he cried. 

"You shall escape no more, " cried his late gaoler, and brought his axedown with a mighty rush. Alfgar leapt nimbly aside, and before hisbulky but clumsy antagonist could recover his guard, passed his keensword beneath the left arm, through the body, and the giant staggeredand fell, a bloody foam rising to his lips, as he quivered in theagonies of death. 

All was again silent. The Danes, discomfited for the moment, havinglost half their number, had retired, probably waiting forreinforcements, and the victor addressed Edmund. 

"Look, " he cried; "this man is a servant of Edric Streorn. "

"Is it true, fellow?" said Edmund sternly. 

"What if it is? I am dying now, and it cannot matter to me. "

The last words were interrupted by a convulsive struggle. 

"Art thou an Englishman or a Dane?" said the Etheling, bending overthe dying ruffian in his anxiety to learn the whole truth. 

"What is that to thee?"

"Much, if thou wouldst escape death. "

"Escape death! I cannot. Neither wilt thou escape Edric Streorn, and Ishall not die unavenged. Ah! young springal, thou wilt not escapeagain. To think that thy puny hand should give Higbald his death blow!Ah, I am choked!"

Alfgar's sword had pierced his lungs, and a gush of blood rushing tothe mouth stopped the breath of Higbald for ever. 

"I have brought the foe upon you. We are tracked, " said Alfgar. "Edricand the Danes are in alliance. "

"But they have not taken this place yet; neither shall they, by God'shelp! Ha! was that lightning? Nay, it is winter. "

A sudden burst of fiery light illuminated the scene, and the defenderslooked forth, in spite of their danger, from their fortifications. Thelittle church of St. Michael burst forth into billowing eddies ofsmoke and flame. 

"This is a grievous sight, to see the place we had dedicated to Goddestroyed by the bloody heathen. O that He would stretch forth Hishand as in the days of old!"

"Would I had but two hundred men; I would fall upon the villains inthe rear, and leave not one, " said Edmund. 

"Look--the farm buildings!" cried little Hermann. 

"The poor horses and oxen!" cried the Lady Bertha. 

"They are safe, " said Edmund. "You may hear the trampling of hoofseven now. The fools of Danes are hunting them in all directions. I donot think they will catch many. "

Lights appeared in two or three places, and soon it became evidentthat the ruthless foe had gained their object, as the barns andstables lit up in all directions, and the manor house was surroundedby the double conflagration, so that every object was as distinctlyvisible as in open daylight. 

"To your buckets! Pour water upon the roof; and, archers, look out forthe enemy; keep him as far off as you can. "

The boys and women were speedily on the roof pouring water in alldirections, in case the wind should deposit the burning brands uponthe structure. Meanwhile flights of arrows came from the distance, andsettled around them; but they were spent before arrival in most cases, for the defenders kept the ground clear for a large circle around bytheir well-sustained discharges. Not a few dead bodies lying in theglare of the fire testified to their deadly skill. 

The flames passed from stable to barn, and barn to shed. Thetriumphant cries of the Danes added to the horror of the scene, heardas they were amidst the continuous roaring of the flames. Crash, crash, went roof after roof, the fall of the little church on theopposite side first leading the awful chorus. Life seemed the penaltyof either Englishman or Dane who dared to trust his person within thecircle of light. 

The Lady Bertha was comforting her two little girls, Ostryth andAlfreda, where they sat, cowering and terrified, in their own littlebedchamber, the window so barricaded that no arrow could enter, butyet not sufficiently to keep out the glare of the flames. 

"Mother, how light it is!" said the little Ostryth; "how dreadfullybright!"

"It will soon be darker again. "

"But is it fire? Are they burning the house?"

"No, dearest. They have set the farm on fire. It cannot hurt us. "

"But the horses, and my poor little pony?"

"Are safe, dearest one. The Etheling went and let them all loose. "

"Oh! how good of him. I am so glad. "

"Mother, let Hermann come and sit with us!"

"Nay, he will out to the fight. He is a boy, and must learn to be asoldier. "

"Oh, but he will get hurt, perhaps killed. "

"Courage, dear child; remember how often I have told you how God helpsthose who trust in Him. Say your prayers, your Pater and Credo, andask God to take care of dear father and Hermann. "

"Mother!" said a voice. She locked up and saw Hermann, his foreheadcovered with blood. 

"It is nothing, mother, " said the spirited lad, as he wiped the bloodaway; "at least only the scratch of an arrow while I was on the roof. Father wishes you to send all the women who are strong enough to helpto carry water from the river. The well is dry, and the men cannot bespared from the embankment. We expect another attack, and there aregreat patches of blazing straw flying about in the wind. "

She spoke a few words to the women, and all but two or three, who weretoo weak or ill, went forth to the work. One kiss she imprintedeagerly on his brow, and dismissed him back to his perilous taskwithout allowing herself one sigh. 

"Now, dear ones, " she said to the little girls, "keep quiet tillmother comes back. I must go. "

"O mother, do not leave us!"

But she could not listen to the earnest pleadings, for she felt thatwhere other women exposed themselves, she too must go, and cheer byher example. 

A long line, reaching to the brink of the river, was soon formed, andbuckets were being passed from hand to hand. A loud cry, and a boy inthe line fell from an arrow, which retained just sufficient strengthto pierce his heart. Herstan and Father Cuthbert carried the corpsereverently within, the father remembering that but that morning he hadfed with the Bread of Life, at the altar of St. Michael, this poorlad, so soon to be called to meet the Judge who had entertained him asa guest at His holy Table that Christmas morn. Two or three otherswere soon wounded, but not seriously, and when a supply of water readyfor all emergencies had been collected on the roof, the dangerous dutywas over. 

Pale and collected, the Lady Bertha was returning to her children, when she passed the corpse. One moment, and the thought struck herthat it was Hermann, and the mother's heart gave a great leap. Tremblingly she put aside the cloth with which they had veiled it, andwas undeceived. Repressing her feelings, she was again by the side ofher little girls, when the fearful cries of the assailants once morerang through the air. 

"Stand to your post! Quit yourselves like men! Be firm!" shouted thestentorian voice of Edmund. 

Onward came the Danes, in three parties, to attack the three sides ofthe building. The arrows diminished their numbers, but stayed themnot. They left a struggling dark line upon the ground, but the woundedhad to care for themselves. Edmund rushed to command the defence atthe gate, leaving Alfgar to superintend that upon the right hand, andHerstan on the left. They had but one moment, and they were in thethick of the conflict. 

Shouts mingled with shrieks. Sword, battle-axe, and spear did theirdeadly work through and above the palisade; arrows rained down fromthe roof and windows on the assailants, women and boys doing theirpart in that manner, while the men did theirs with battle-axe andsword on the bulwarks. In one or two places the palisade threatened togive way, and at last three or four stakes were dragged out in onespot, blow after blow of the axe was spent upon the yielding fabric, and a breach was effected. 

The Etheling perceived it, and rushed to the scene just as two orthree of the English, less used to arms, were yielding before theponderous weapons of the Danes. Throwing himself into the breach, hispractised arm made a desert around him. Of immense muscular strength, his blows came down like the fabled hammer of Thor, crushing helmetand breastplate alike before the well-tempered steel of his favouriteweapon. The foe were driven back, and for one moment he stood in thebreach alone. 

Then and then only was he recognised. 

"The gleeman! the false gleeman the Etheling Edmund!" in variousenergetic cries, attested his fame, and the hatred of his foes. 

"Yes, dogs, ye know me, and the prize ye have to win. Back, drunkardsand cannibals, back to your royal parricide with the gleeman'sgreetings, and tell him Hela is waiting for him and his friend theaccursed Edric. "

A shower of arrows was the only answer, but they missed the joints, and rattled harmlessly from the well-tempered armour which Edmundwore. Still the position was critical, and Alfgar, with gentleviolence, persuaded him to descend from his perilous position. 

Here the attack was foiled, and foiled so decidedly, that the ditchwas actually half filled with corpses. Cries of distress arose fromthe opposite side, but Edmund's arm restored the balance there, sogreat was the influence of one man, and so great the power of physicalforce in the desperate conflicts of that day. 

Foiled at every point, the invaders were driven from the embankment. It was evident that they had miscalculated the forces of thedefenders, and that they had advanced beyond their main body ininsufficient strength to take the place by assault. Could they havesupplied the place of the fallen by fresh men, until they had weariedthe defenders out, they would have succeeded, but they were evidentlynot in strength to do this so they slowly yielded, until the deadlystruggle ceased, and silence resumed her empire, while the besiegedrepaired the damage the defences had sustained. 

"They have retired, " said Herstan, wiping the sweat from his brow andthe blood from his axe. 

"Ay, " said Edmund, "they will not now take the place by assault--theyare not more than two to one, considering the losses they havesustained. They have lost twice as many as we. If we were a littlestronger I would head a sally. 

"Ah! what was that?"

A globe of fire traversing the arc of a circle, rose from beyond theembers of the barns, and, sailing through the air, fell upon the roof, which, owing to the intense heat from the conflagration which hadraged around, was in a very dry and inflammable state. Another, thenanother followed, and Edmund cried aloud:

"Pass up the water to the roof, to the roof. We shall need all ourhands now!"

He rushed up himself, but charged Herstan to remain below, and seethat, whatever happened, the defences were not forsaken for onemoment. 

The defenders on the roof were prompt with their remedy; and no soonerdid a flaming brand arrive than it was extinguished, provided it fellin a spot easy of access. But at length some of the deadly missilesfell where they could not be immediately reached, and one of theseeluded the observation of the besieged until they saw a sheet of flamecurl over the eaves beneath the roof, and play upon the surface of thehuge beams above, until they suddenly started into flame. Water wasdashed upon it, but only partially extinguished the destroyingelement, which broke out in fresh places until the defenders becamedesperate. And now flight after flight of arrows fell amongst them, and many wounds were received, while the smoke and flame seemed tofind fresh fuel each moment, and to need all the energies of theEnglish. 

It was at this inauspicious moment that the Danes charged thepalisades again with deadly fury, while the attention of all was drawnto the flames; so fierce was the attack, that it was necessary oncemore to concentrate all the strength of the besieged to repel them;and the fire gained in strength, roared and hissed in its fury, seizing for its prey the whole roof of the eastern wing of thebuilding. 

And now the Danish archers, drawing nearer, sent fresh flights ofarrows on those who were labouring on the house top, and, killingseveral, drove the others away. The condition of the English wasrapidly getting desperate. 

Edmund threw himself into the strife, and drove the foe back from thebreach they had previously made, but even his valour could not restoreconfidence. 

"All is lost! all is lost!" cried some panic-stricken trembler, as hesaw the flames spread. 

"To the river, to the river, to the boats!" cried others. 

"Nay, nay, " shouted Edmund, "we are not conquered yet; we can defendourselves till daylight, or we can depart in order. Alfgar, bid thewomen and children prepare to leave the hall as the fire spreads; andyou, Herstan, see that if the worst comes to the worst, the retreat tothe river is made in order. We will defend the place if necessary tillthe last man, and cover your retreat; but all is not lost yet. Take adozen stout men, mount the roof, the fire is not lower down; let themdestroy the burning portion with their axes; let the women standbehind with the water. 

"Archers, keep the Danes back. See those brutes there aiming at yourwives on the roof; bring them down; make them keep their distance. Guard well the palisades. "

But, although his orders were obeyed, the Danes grew bolder; the mencould not work on the roof in the midst of the arrows. The women andchildren, emerging terror-struck from the hall, made every father'sheart sink within him. 

Edmund cried aloud:

"To the gate, to the gate! the villains have got the drawbridge down. "

He rushed to the spot himself, and found that some adventurous Danehad severed the chains and lowered the bridge in the momentaryconfusion of its defenders, and the gate was yielding before theirstrokes. 

He arrived; and that moment the gate fell. He stood in the breachhimself; one man against a dozen. He did all a hero could; but he wasalready bleeding. Alfgar, ever faithful, fought like a lion by hisside. Herstan and his bravest warriors brought their aid, but allseemed lost. 

"Tell them to retreat to the river. 

"Herstan, conduct the retreat; Alfgar and I can keep them out for fiveminutes more. "

"All is lost! all is lost!" the cry arose within. 

"No; saved! saved!" cried Father Cuthbert from the roof. "What!Englishmen, to the rescue! to the rescue!"

The Danes suddenly wavered, then turned in surprise and despair; forfrom the darkness behind emerged the forms of hundreds of Englishmen, who fell upon the Danes. The levies were out, and only just in time. 

"One charge!" said Edmund; and, rushing forward, led the way into theheart of the foe. 

. . . . . . 

The Danes who had attacked the house of Herstan were so far in advanceof their countrymen that they were forced to retreat instantly beforethe superior force which came to the rescue of the besieged; and theyfell back, at first in some order, but shortly, owing to the darknessand the pressure of their foes, in utter confusion. 

But Edmund could pursue them no longer. His strength, having been solately an invalid, was utterly gone. He fell from sheer exhaustion, and was borne back by Alfgar to the hall. 

But there was no longer need for his protection. He had saved themansion and all its inmates, as they most readily owned. And now hereceived all the loving care and attention he deserved. 

Meanwhile the English continued the pursuit until a small remnant ofDanes repassed the river; only a small remnant of the party which, asit will be easily guessed, instigated by Edric, had sallied forth tobesiege the place where Edmund had found refuge, who had so recentlyprovoked the bitter hostility of Sweyn. 

The following day the whole army of the Danes retreated from the ruinsof Wallingford towards the south; and the next day encamped in thevillage of Cholsey, which, with its priory, they utterly destroyed. Then they continued their retreat along the slope of the downs, byAston, until they reached Cuckamsley hill, where they abode as adaring boast; for it had been said that if they ever reached that spotthey should never see the sea again. Alas! the prediction wasunfulfilled {xii}. 

CHAPTER XVIII. FATHER CUTHBERT'S DIARY. 

In the Aescendune Woods, Easter Tide, 1007. --

Here I am at home, if I may call these woods home, once more, havingspent my Lent with my brethren in the monastery of Abingdon. We are avery large party: Herstan and all his family are here, the EthelingEdmund, and Alfgar. 

We all travelled together from Abingdon. Passing through Oxen ford, Kirtlington (where Bishop Sidesman of Crediton died at the GreatCouncil, whose body is buried in the abbey), Beranbyrig, and Warwick, we reached the domains of Aescendune. 

We passed through the desolated village where lie the blackened ruinsof priory and hall, not without a sigh, and entered the forest. Although I had so recently travelled by that path (in September last), yet I could hardly find my way, and had once or twice like to havelost the party in quagmires. So much the better; for if we can hardlyescape such impediments, I do not think we need fear that the Daneswill find their way through the swamps and brakes. 

But the woods were so fresh and delightful to men like ourselves, whohave but just escaped from the confinement of the town. Blessed, thrice blessed, are they who dwell in the woods, God's first temples, apart from strife and the turmoil of arms!

So spake I to my companions. The while the birds from each tree andbush chanted their Maker's praise, and the sweet fresh green ofspringtide enlivened the scene, as if to welcome us pilgrims to ourhome. 

"And not less, father, " said the Etheling, "need we be grateful foryon fat buck, which I mean to send an arrow after. See, we have thewind of him. "

So speaking, while we all stood motionless, he crept near his victim, and drawing an arrow to its head, while all we saw was the branchinghorns of the stag, he let it fly. It whizzed through the air, anddrank the life blood of the poor beast, which bounded a few steps, staggered, and fell, when in a moment Alfgar ended its struggles bydrawing his knife across its throat, while young Hermann, a truehunter by instinct, clapped his hands with joy. 

"We shall bring our dinner with us, " quoth the boy. 

At this point I found great difficulty. A brook coming down from thehills had overflowed the land until a swamp or quagmire had beenformed, whereon huge trees rotted in slime, while creeping plants hidthe deformity of decay. 

Our horses refused the path, and it took me a good hour's search, forI was guide, to find a more secure one. At last I found the trackswhere others had gone before me, and we followed a winding path for afull hour, until we arrived in a deep valley, where a brook made itsway between deep rocky banks, by the side of which lay our upwardpath. 

"What a splendid place for defence!" said Edmund. "With a score or twowarriors, one might hold an entire army at bay here. "

He pointed out to Alfgar and Hermann, who look upon him as a sort ofdemigod, all the capabilities of the place. 

"A few more steps, and we shall see our friends, " said I; and weadvanced until, from the summit of the pass, we saw the valley whereinthey have found rest. 

They had worked well during autumn and winter, and the land was wellcultivated; the brook ran through the midst of the vale, which wasbounded by low hills on either side, and clear from forest growth. 

In the centre of the valley the brook divided, forming an island ofabout an acre of ground, containing several dwellings. From thecentral one, which possessed a chimney, smoke issued, and told of thenoon meat. 

By this time our approach was discovered, and I saw my brother, with afew serfs, advancing to meet us. It was a happy moment when weembraced each other again. And then he saw Alfgar, and embraced him asa son. They did not speak--their feelings were too deep for words. Allthat had passed since they last met must have rushed into their minds. Then Herstan, the Lady Bertha, Hermann, Ostryth, and Alfreda, all hadtheir turn. 

"Pardon me, prince, " said I, when I introduced Edmund; "pardonbrothers who scarcely expected to meet again. Elfwyn, let me introducethe Etheling Edmund as your guest. "

"The Etheling Edmund!" repeated Elfwyn, with great respect; "it isindeed an honour which I receive. "

"The less said of it the better, " said Edmund. "I am come to be one ofyou for a time, and am thankful to find a free-born Englishman towelcome me to the woods. Never, by God's help, will I return to thecourt so long as they pay tribute to the Danes. "

"It is true, then, " said Elfwyn--"we hear scant news here--that peacehas been bought?"

"Yes, bought for thirty-six thousand pounds, by Edric's advice. Ishould like to know how much of the money he retains himself. He ishand and glove with Sweyn. But I purpose deriving one benefit from thepeace, upon which the Danes do not reckon. "

"And that?--"

"Is to train up an army of Englishmen who shall not be their inferiorsin warlike skill. In courage they are not their inferiors now. Perhapsyou will let me amuse myself by training your own retainers in theirspare moments?"

"Most willingly. I could desire nothing better, " said my brother, smiling inwardly at the enthusiasm of the young warrior. 

The labourers had just returned from wood and field, and when Edmundwas recognised he was greeted with vociferous cheers, which made thewoods ring. 

But I cannot describe the meeting of Alfgar with the mother and sisterof Bertric; they were alone a long time together after the noon meat, and I saw afterwards their eyes were red with weeping; well, they werenot all tears of sorrow. 

On the whole it has been a day of deep happiness, hallowed rather thanshadowed by the thought of Bertric, the circumstances of whose heroicdeath were only now fully known to his parents and sister. 

. . . . . . 

The voluminous pages of Father Cuthbert's diary for the years ofbitter woe and misery which followed cannot be fully transcribed; theywould fill a volume themselves, and we must content ourselves with afew extracts, which will probably interest our readers, and carry onthe thread of the history to the place where our narrative will againflow free and uninterrupted. 

Ascension Tide, 1007. --

Edmund, assisted by Alfgar, has begun his task of disciplining andtraining all our able-bodied men. He says, and rightly, that he issure we shall very soon have the Danes back for more money, and thatthere will be no peace till we can defend ourselves properly. It isamusing to see with what zeal young Hermann takes lessons in arms fromAlfgar; that boy is born to be a soldier. 

September 1007. --

We hear of an appointment which causes us much apprehension. The kingEthelred has appointed Edric Streorn ealdorman of Mercia; we are inhis district, and fear it may bode evil to us all. Edmund is besidehimself with rage; he vows that if Edric appears in these woods hewill slay him as he would a wolf. 

May 1008. --

Every three hundred and ten hides of land has been charged with thecost of a ship, and every eight hides with the cost of breastplate andhelmet; we do trust to recover our supremacy at sea, and then theDanes cannot return. 

March 1009. --

Alas, we are grievously disappointed of our hope. The fleet ismiserably destroyed; Brihtric, Edric's brother, a man like-minded tohimself; accused Wulfnoth, the ealdorman of Sussex, of high treason;the ealdorman, knowing that he had no chance of justice, seduced thecrews of twenty ships, and became a pirate, like unto the Danesthemselves. Brihtric pursued him with eighty ships, but being a badsailor, got aground in a storm, and Wulfnoth came and burned all whichthe storm spared. The commanders and crews have forsaken the rest ofthe fleet in disgust. 

Whitsuntide, 1009. --

Poor Alfgar came to me in great trouble. He and Ethelgiva have beenaccepted suitors so long that he thought it time to propose marriage. She referred him, with her own full consent, to her father; and Elfwynsays, not unwisely, that he cannot consent until the land is at peace;that it is currently reported that Thurkill, a Danish earl, is at handwith an immense fleet, and that to marry might both hamper a warrior'shands and be the means of bringing up children for the sword. He fullyaccepts Alfgar's suit, but postpones the day till peace seemsestablished, that is "sine die. " It is very hard to make Alfgarreconciled to this. I try to do so. 

July 1009. --

Bad news. Thurkill's fleet has landed at Sandwich. 

August 1009. --

Worse news. Another fleet of Danes, under Heming and Eglaf, has joinedthe former fleet, and both together are ravaging Wessex as farnorthward as Berkshire; we have sent all the men we can spare to jointhe army, but the king, persuaded by Edric, will not give the EthelingEdmund any command therein. 

St. Martin's Mass, --

One of our men has returned from the army. He states that forces beinggathered from all parts of England, the Danes were waylaid, and musthave been beaten, but that Edric persuaded the king not to fight whenthe victory was in his hands, and so they escaped. 

St. Brice's Day, 1009. --

This ill-omened anniversary we sang dirge and mass for the souls ofthose who were slain by treachery seven years ago. Our forces havereturned from the south. They say the Danes have gone into winterquarters on the Thames, and that all the neighbourhood pays themtribute. 

London has hitherto gallantly resisted their attacks. 

Edric Streorn has married the king's daughter, Edmund's half-sister, Elgitha. Is this a time to be "marrying and giving in marriage"?Edmund is frantic about it. 

February 1010. --

Woeful news. Herstan and all his family, who had returned in peace totheir dwelling, have come to us homeless and destitute. The Danes, asin 1006, suddenly issued from their ships. They took their way upwardsthrough Chiltern, and so to Oxford, burning the city. Then theyreturned all down the river, the infantry in boats, the cavalry onhorseback, burning on every side. 

But, worst of all, Abingdon is destroyed; the holy house which hasbeen a house of prayer so many generations! Keeping in their course, they burned Clifton; but the alarm was given in time, and the peopleescaped. There was no chance of defence this time. 

Then they attacked Dorchester, and burned part of the city, butretired before all was consumed, hearing that a large force wasmarching against them; so onward past the ruins of Wallingford, whichhad not yet been rebuilt, destroying Bensington on their road. Thusthey went on to Staines, when, fearing the forces of London, theyreturned through Kent to their ships. 

Our brethren who took refuge in Abingdon have just arrived. We mustfind them room here; they tell a piteous story. 

Ascension Tide, 1010. --

A sorrowful Ascension Tide indeed! They have landed in East Anglia. Abattle has been fought and lost. Nearly all the English leaders slain. 

Whitsuntide. --

We can hardly keep the festival, the people are so excited by thenews; all Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire (once more) are laid waste. They are on the road to Bedford. 

Edmund and Alfgar, with young Hermann, and all our fighting men, havegone out on their own account against them. 

July. --

The Danes elude all our troops. Edric persuades the king to goeastward, and the Danes are westward. They go westward, and the Danesare eastward. There is no chieftain. A witan is summoned; it will dono good. 

November. --

Northampton has fallen, cruelly fallen. The town is burned, and alltherein slain. 

Edmund and Alfgar, with not more than half our men, have returned withthe news. Hermann is seriously wounded, but bears it bravely. He isonly sixteen now. There is mourning over all our fallen heroes; butthey have died so bravely. Edmund says they have slain far more thantwice their number of the marauders. Still his father will give him nocommand. It is like private war so far as he is concerned; but manyfresh recruits have joined his standard, and will go out with him inspring. 

March 1011. --

The king and witan have again offered tribute to the Danes; it isaccepted. I do not think the peace will last long. 

Michaelmas, 1011. --

Woe is me! the Danes have broken the peace; and Canterbury, the chiefseat of English Christendom, whence came to us the blessed Gospel, istaken and burnt. Elfmar, the abbot of St. Augustine's--O falseshepherd! O wolf in sheep's clothing! betrayed it. The archbishop isprisoner. God and the blessed saints preserve him!

Easter, 1012. --

Another saint is added to the calendar; the Archbishop Elphege hassuffered martyrdom. On Easter eve they told him he must find ransom ordie. But he not only firmly refused to give money, but forbade hisimpoverished people to do so on his account. Then, on the followingSaturday, they led him to their hustings (or assembly), and shamefullyslaughtered him, casting upon him bones and the horns of oxen. Andthen one smote him with an axe iron on the head, and with the blow hesank down. His holy blood fell on the earth, and his soul he sentforth to God's kingdom. 

On the morrow they allowed the body to be taken to London, where thebishops, Ednoth of Dorchester and Elfhelm of London, received it, withall the townsmen, and buried the holy relics in St. Paul's minster, where they say many miracles have already been wrought at his tomb. 

Tribute has again been paid, and there is peace awhile. Thurkill, withforty ships, sweareth to serve King Ethelred and defend the country ifhe will feed and pay them. 

Oh that the martyr's intercessions may be heard for his afflictedcountry {xiii}. 

August 1013. --

This fatal month our own neighbourhood, indeed nearly all Mercia, hassuffered the extreme horrors of war. Sweyn came along Watling Street, perpetrating the most monstrous cruelties; in short, he and hiscommitted the worst evil that any army could do. 

We found now how wisely we had decided not to rebuild Aescendune. Nota hall, farm, or cottage, escaped fire and sword, save those hidden inthe forest like us. Edmund has lost many men in the course of the lastfew months; and with the remainder he hid in our woods, ready toprotect us "to the last breath, " as he said, "in his body. " Alfgar andHermann, who have both been wounded (the latter for the second time), are with him still. But the enemy never discovered our retreat. Praisebe to God for sparing this little Zoar! The saints are not unmindfulhow we protested against the iniquity of St. Brice's day. But of onething we all feel sure; Anlaf cannot be alive, or revenge would leadhim here. 

December 1013. --

Ethelred has fled to Normandy. He sent Queen Emma and her childrenbefore him. Sweyn, the Dane, is now King of England. There seems noresource but submission. We are told Edric Streorn is in high favourin the Pagan court; and still is ealdorman of Mercia. Alas! what aChristmas!

Candlemas, 1014. --

God has at length bared His arm: Sweyn is no more. The blasphemer andparricide is gone to his dread account. On the eve of the festival hefilled up the measure of his damnation by daring to exact an enormoustribute from the town where rests the uncorrupt body of the preciousmartyr St. Edmund, which even the pagan Danes had hitherto feared todo. He said that if it were not presently paid he would burn the townand its people, level to the ground the church of the martyr, andinflict various tortures on the clergy. Not content with this, hedisparaged the blessed martyr's merits, daring to say there was nosanctity about him. But, thus setting no bounds to his frowardness, Divine vengeance did not suffer the blasphemer to prolong hismiserable existence. 

Towards evening of the day when he had held a "thingcourt" atGainsborough, where he had repeated all these threats amongst hiswarriors, he, alone of the crowd, saw St. Edmund approaching him witha dreadful aspect. 

Struck with terror, he began to shout, "Help! comrades, help! St. Edmund is at hand to slay me!"

While he spoke, the saint thrust his spear fiercely through him, andhe fell from his war horse. They bore him to a bed, whereon hesuffered excruciating agonies till twilight, when he died the third ofthe nones of February. From such a death, good Lord, deliver us! Thebloodthirsty and deceitful man shall not live out half his days;nevertheless, my trust shall be in thee, O Lord {xiv}!

Lent, 1014. --

Ethelred has returned, and is again king; he has promised to amend hisevil ways, and to be ruled by faithful and wise counsellors. AllEngland has rallied round the descendant of Edgar. Canute has fled. 

Eastertide. --

Edmund has returned to court. His father has received him graciously. Alfgar is with him. Elfwyn will not even yet consent to the marriage, saying, "Wait a little while; we have not yet done with the Danes. " Ifear he is right. 

June 1015. --

Herstan is here, and has brought us sad news. A great council has justbeen held at Oxford, whereat Edric Streorn, to the indignation of allmen, sat at the king's right hand. Would this had been all! He invitedSigeferth and Morcar, two of the chief Thanes in the seven burghs, tosupper with him; and there, when he had made them heavy with wine, hecaused them to be cruelly murdered by hired ruffians. Instead ofpunishing him, the king sanctioned the deed, took all theirpossessions, and sent Sigeferth's widow to be kept prisoner atMalmesbury. Alas! such deeds will call down God's vengeance upon us. 

Nativity of St. Mary (Sept. 8). --

The Etheling went with Alfgar to Malmesbury a few days ago. We nowhear that he has released Sigeferth's widow, and that he has marriedher. We know not what to think of the step. It is a bold defiance ofhis father's cruel policy. He knew the widow before she was the wifeof Sigeferth, when Alfgar says he made honourable love to her. But itis a very sudden step. 

October 1015. --

Alas! the Divine vengeance has not slumbered long after the late crueldeed. Canute is in England again. Edmund brought his wife here, askingus to take care of her. She is a gentle lady, worn down with care. Hehas gone, in conjunction with Edric, to fight Canute. I dread thisconjunction. Edmund would have gone alone, but his father insisted onjoining Edric in the command, saying two heads were better than one. 

November 1015. --

Alfgar has come home, bringing messages from Edmund, with sad but notaltogether unexpected news. Edric, who is steeped in stratagems anddeceit, plotted against his life again and again, whereupon Edmundbroke up the camp in indignation, and took a separate course with allthe warriors who would follow his standard. Edric took the rest, wentdown to the seacoast, seduced the crews of forty ships, and thenjoined Canute with his whole forces. Alas! there seems no hope now. 

Epiphany, 1016. --

There is war all over the land--civil war. It is not to be wonderedat. But many Englishmen have given their allegiance to Canute, who nowprofesses himself a Christian, saying they will not serve Ethelred anymore. So Edmund and Canute are both, I fear, ravaging the land, forEdmund has threatened more than once to regard those people as foeswho refuse to fight against the Danes. Men know not what to do. 

Eastertide, 1016. --

We have received strange news. Ethelred is dying. He has summoned hisson. The tidings reached Edmund here. He had only been with us asingle day, and was about to depart again for the war, for Canutethreatens to attack London. It is there Ethelred lies sick unto death. Edmund seemed more moved than I should have expected. He has departedin all haste, taking Alfgar with him. 

CHAPTER XIX. THE ROYAL DEATHBED. 

It was the evening of a stormy day in April when a band of fivehundred men, well armed and equipped, were seen approaching the MoorGate of London. Their leader rode in front, a stalwart warrior, whoseeagle eye and dauntless brow told of one born to command. By his siderode a younger warrior, yet one who had nearly reached the prime oflife, and who bore the traces of a life of warfare most legiblystamped upon him. There was this difference between them, that menwould have recognised the elder at once as an Englishman, while theyounger had all the outward physiognomy of a Dane. 

"Look, Alfgar, and see whether you can see the flag of Wessex floatingover the gates; your eyes are better than mine, " said the elder to hiscompanion. 

"I can barely see through the driving rain and darkening sky, but Ithink I discern the royal banner. "

"Then the city yet holds out, and Canute has not arrived. We are yetin time. "

"The messenger said that their ships could not ascend the river whilethe west wind blew, and it is blowing hard enough tonight. "

"Well, when they come they may find London a hard nut even for Canuteto crack. The citizens of London are true as steel. "

"See, we are espied, and they man the gates. "

"Doubtless they think Canute is approaching. Ride rapidly, we shallsoon undeceive them. "

They rode within bow shot of the gates, which were closed, and therethey paused, for a score of bowmen held their shafts to their ears. Edmund, for our readers have long recognised him, bade his forceshalt, and advanced alone, with Alfgar, holding up his hand in sign ofpeace. 

"What, ho! men of London, " he cried, "do you not recognise Edmund theEtheling?"

A joyous cry of recognition burst forth, the gates were thrown open ina minute, and as Edmund, followed by his train, rode in, cries ofwelcome and exultation burst forth on all sides, while women andchildren, sharing the general joy, kissed even the hem of his mantle. 

Well they might, for their need was sore. Canute was near, his shipshad been seen entering the Thames, and his determination to take thecity, which had so often resisted the Danish arms, had been freely andfrankly expressed. 

"Ah, well you know me, my countrymen, for a true Englishman!--one inwhose veins your blood flows, and who will be only too happy to fightthe Danish wolves at your head. "

The cry, "Long live the Etheling Edmund!" had wakened the city, andthe narrow tortuous streets were becoming thronged by the crowd, sothat their farther progress threatened to be slow. Edmund perceivedthis, and, turning to the captain of the guard, inquired anxiously:

"How fares the king, my father?"

"They say he is at death's door, " was the reply. 

"Then I may not tarry, good people. All thanks for your welcome, whichI hope I may live to repay, but just now my place is by my father'sside. I may not now delay till I come to him. "

So the people made way without discontinuing their acclamations, andEdmund and his train rode on till they reached the precincts of St. Paul's cathedral church. Night was now coming on apace, amidst showersof rain and hail, and gusts of wind, which caused the wooden spire torock visibly. Here and there faint lights twinkled through the opendoors, where people could be dimly seen on their knees. 

"They pray for the king, " whispered an officer of the guard who rodeby the side of the prince. "The bishop Elfhelm has gone forth with theviaticum. "

Edmund replied not, but hurried his pace as he gazed at the darkeningoutlines of the rude structure, which stood within the outer walls, yet remaining, of the temple of Diana, which in Roman times hadoccupied the same spot. 

They descended the hill towards the Fleet, but paused while yet withinthe walls. The ancient palace without the gates had been long sinceburned by the Danes in one of their various attempts to take the city, and the court had occupied a large palace, if such it could be called, once belonging to a powerful noble who had perished in one of thesanguinary battles of the time. 

The outer portal stood open, but sentinels of the hus-carles wereposted thereat, who at once came forward as Edmund paused at the gate. 

He dismounted, saying, "Alfgar, follow me;" and commended his troopsto the hospitality of the citizens, bidding them to reassemble beforeSt. Paul's by eight of the morning. 

And the troops broke up to receive such hospitality as the straitenedtimes permitted men to indulge in. The officers found a welcome in thepalace, amongst the royal guard. The citizens contended who shouldentertain the rest. 

Edmund passed through the great hall, where the general silence struckhim forcibly, telling of the extremity to which the monarch wasreduced, and entered an inner apartment, where several dignitariesboth of church and state were waiting. They welcomed him in gravesilence, and the chamberlain who was present spoke in a low voice:

"Your royal father has long pined for you, my prince; may I conductyou to him at once?"

"Who is with him now?"

"Your royal brothers, the Ethelings Edward and Alfred, the PrincessEdgitha, and the Queen {xv}. "

"Has not the bishop arrived?"

"He is in the chapel at this moment; the king declined to see him, hewill not believe he is dying; but the bishop waits in prayer. "

"Lead me to his chamber, " said Edmund. 

Re-entering the great hall, the chamberlain and prince ascended thebroad staircase which conducted to the upper chambers, and passingalong a passage thickly strewn with rushes to deaden the sound, forcarpets were unknown, they came to a door at the end, where thechamberlain paused and knocked. 

Loud ravings, as of one in delirium, penetrated the passage from thechamber, amidst which the chamberlain knocked again. 

"There! there!" cried an agonised voice, "he knocks again; 'tisElfhelm of Shrewsbury, whom Edric slew; 'twasn't I, 'twas Edric, Ionly shared the spoil; keep him out, I tell you, keep him out. "

The door was not opened; probably those within feared to excite theking; and the chamberlain whispered to Edmund:

"He is in delirium, his ravings are very painful. "

"I hear, " said Edmund; "how long has he been in this state?"

"Only a few hours, and he has constantly imagined that men, who arelong since dead, were about him; especially he calls upon Dunstan, then upon St. Brice, then he calls for his son-in-law, Edric. "

"Ah, Edric!"

"Yes; but Edric is with Canute, I hear. "

"I wish he were with Satan, in his own place, " said Edmund, fiercely, forgetting all Christian charity at the hated name. 

"It is devoutly to be wished; but he is quiet, we may enter now. "

The king, exhausted by his own violent emotions, lay back upon thebed, which occupied the centre of the room, surmounted by a woodencanopy, richly carved, from which curtains depended on either side. 

His face, which time and evil passions had deeply wrinkled, was of adeadly paleness; his eyes were encircled by a livid tint, and staredas if they would start from their orbits; his breathing was rapid andinterrupted, but at the moment when Edmund entered he was silent. Standing on his left hand, wiping the perspiration from his brow, wasEmma, the queen, her face yet comely, and bearing trace of that beautywhich had once earned her the title of the "Pearl of Normandy. " Herevident solicitude and loving care was the one picture of the roomupon which the eye could rest with most contentment. 

Alfred, her eldest son--for Edmund was the offspring of an early amourof the king--was on the other side of the bed, a well-made youth, combining in his features the haughty bearing of his Norman maternalancestors with the English traits of his father; but now hisexpression was one of distress and anxiety, which was yet more deeplyshared by his younger brother, Edward, who even at this periodmanifested that strong sense of religious obligation and that earlydevotion which in later years caused him to be numbered amongstcanonised saints. 

He knelt at the bedside, and his hand grasped the cold damp hand ofhis sire, as if he would strengthen him by his sympathy. 

"O father, " he cried; "neglect not longer to make your peace with along-suffering God; even in this eleventh hour He will not reject thepenitent. "

He was interrupted by the entrance of Edmund, his half-brother, whomhe feared, because he could not understand so different a nature. 

"Our father has long pined for you, " he said, in a timid voice; "Ifear you are too late, and that he will hardly know you. "

"I have ridden from Aescendune day and night since the news of hisdanger was brought me. 

"Father, " he said, as he bent over the bed, "do you not know me?"

The dying man raised himself up and looked him full in the face, and alook of recognition came slowly. 

"Edmund!" he said, "I am so glad, you will protect me; take yourbattle-axe, you are strong. Sigeferth and Morcar, whom Edric slew atOxford, have been here, and they said they would come back and drag mewith them to some judgment seat; now take thine axe, Edmund, my son, and slay them when they enter; they want killing again. "

A look of indescribable pain passed over the features of Edmund. 

The door opened, and Edward left the room after a conference with thephysician, who sat in a corner of the room compounding drugs at asmall table; a few minutes passed in silence, when he returned andheld the door open for the bishop of London, who entered, bearing theviaticum, as the last communion of the sick was then called, andattended by an acolyte, who bore a lighted taper before him andcarried a bell. 

The king rose up in his bed, glared fixedly at the prelate, and thenshrieked aloud:

"St. Brice! St. Brice! art thou come again? What dost thou glare at mefor? 'Twas not I who defiled thy festival with blood. It was Edric, Edric! Why does he not come to answer for his own sin?"

"If he did, I would brain him, " muttered Edmund. 

"There! do not glare upon me. Hast thou brought me the blood of thevictims to drink? Ah! there is Gunhilda. What right hast thou tocomplain if I slew thee, which I did not, at least not with my ownhands: thy brother Sweyn has slain thousands. I did not at least killmy father; I have only disgraced his name, as you will say. 

"O Edmund! Edmund! protect me. "

"My son, " said the bishop, in a deep calm voice, which seemed to stillthe ravings of the king, "think of thy sins, repent, confess; theChurch hath power to loose in her Lord's name, Who came to savesinners. "

"Yes, father, heed him, " said Edward. "Father, you are dying, theleech says; you have not a day to live. Waste not the precious hours. "

The patient sank back upon his bed, and for a few minutes only thesound of his breathing could be heard; the difficulty with which hedrew his breath seemed to increase each moment. 

The bishop held the crucifix before his eyes. 

"Gaze, my son, " said he, "at the emblem of Him who died that thoumightest live, and say, 'O my God, I put Thy most pitiful passionbetween Thee and my sins!'"

"Yes, father, hearken, " said Edward. 

"I bethink me now that Gunhilda clung to the crucifix, and said shewas a Christian. But what of that? She was a Dane, and they did rightin dragging her from it and slaying her. "

"My son, my son, you throw away your salvation!" cried the bishop. 

"Father, show him the viaticum, " said Emma. 

"It is useless; without repentance and faith 'twould but increase--"and the prelate paused. "Let us pray. It is all we can do. "

And all present knelt round the bed, while the plaintive cry arosefrom the lips of the prelate, and was echoed from all around:

"Kyrie eleeson: Christe eleeson: kyrie eleeson. "

And so the litany for the dying rolled solemnly along, with itsintense burning words of supplication, its deep agony of prayer, itsloving earnestness of intercession. But upon the dying sinner's earsit fell as an echo of the long, long past; of that day when the litanyarose before his coronation at Kingston, and the prophetic curse ofDunstan. 

"Listen!" he said. "I hear the voice of Dunstan. 

"Oh, why didst thou lay thy curse upon me? Did I murder my brotherEdward? Nay, 'twas my cruel mother, who murdered her own husband thatshe might become queen. Her sins are visited upon me. Nay, recall thycurse. Alas! it is uttered in thunders before the eternal judgmentseat. 

"See, they come to drag me thither; they all come--Edward; the victimswhom I slew sixteen years agone in Cumbria; the slain on St. Brice'sday; Elfhelm of Shrewsbury and his sons, with their empty sockets, andtheir eyes hanging down; Sigeferth, Morcar, and a thousand others. See, Dunstan bids them all await me at the judgment seat. I will notcome; nay, they drag me. 

"Edric, wilt thou not answer for me now? Accursed be thy name, accursed!"

His frightful maledictions overpowered the supplications around hisbed; but they died away in silence--silence so long continued, thatsuspicion soon became certainty. 

Ethelred the Unready was dead. 

"We must leave him to God's mercy, " said the bishop, as he closed theeyes, while the wife and children of the unhappy king sobbed around. "He knoweth whereof we are made; He remembereth that we are but dust. "

Yet he trembled as he spoke, and, kneeling down, completed withfaltering voice the office for the commendation of the departed soul. 

CHAPTER XX. THE MIDNIGHT FLIGHT. 

So soon as the news of the death of Ethelred travelled abroad, thebishops, abbots, ealdormen, and thanes of southern England, despairingof the cause of the house of Cerdic, met together at Southampton, andrenouncing Ethelred and his descendants, elected Canute to be theirking, while he swore that both in things spiritual and temporal hewould maintain their liberties. 

But the citizens of London were of nobler mould, and, disdainingsubmission, chose Edmund to be their king. A council was at once held, and it became apparent that the allegiance of the greater part ofWessex depended upon Edmund's prompt appearance amongst them, while, on the other hand, the rapid approach of Canute made his presence inthe city very essential to the safety of the inhabitants. 

Up rose a noble thane, and spake his mind. 

"Surely we can defend our own city until the valiant Edmund brings usaid. We have kept off Canute before, and his father before him, and wecan do as much again. Meanwhile Edmund will soon have all Wessex athis back, and Canute will find his match for once. "

The words of the gallant speaker found their echo in many a breast, and it was decided that Edmund should be advised to hurry into Wessex, and leave London to defend itself. 

A deputation from the council at once waited upon Edmund, and in thename of the city, and, as they took the liberty of adding, of everytrue man in England, they proferred him his father's crown. Like thecitizens of a certain modern capital, they constituted themselves therepresentatives of the nation. 

Edmund, who certainly did not lack confidence, and who could not helpknowing that he alone was able to cope with the Danes, took scant timeto consider their proposal. 

"I accept the crown, " he said; "a thorny one it is like to prove, butI thank you for your love and trust. "

In the course of a day or two Ethelred the Unready was buried byArchbishop Lyfing in St. Paul's minster, with the assistance of thecathedral body. Emma and her children, as also Edwy, the son ofEthelred by his first wife, were the chief mourners, nay, the onlyreal ones. Most men felt as when a cloud passes away. The sadprocession passed through the streets, the people flocked into thechurch, and in the presence of all the "wise men" of London, theysolemnly committed the frail tabernacle in which the living spirit hadsinned and suffered to the parent earth, where the rush and roar of amighty city should ever peal around it. 

A few days later the archbishop was called upon to perform a verydifferent ceremony, the coronation of King Edmund, which also tookplace in St. Paul's Cathedral, amidst tears of joy, and cries whicheven the sanctity of the place could not wholly restrain, "God blessKing Edmund!" The solemn oath of fidelity was administered, and whenall was over, with mingled tears and acclamations, those who had metto bury the late king greeted with joy his son and successor. 

It yet remained to be seen whether the choice of the realm wouldratify this decisive step on the part of the citizens of London. 

Emma, the queen dowager, was deeply mortified, even while sheconfessed the heritage was hardly worth having. Still her boy Alfredseemed slighted by the choice, and she left England at once, withAlfred and Edward, for Normandy, while Elgitha departed secretly fromLondon to join her husband Edric, and tell him all that had been done. 

Edmund delayed his journey into Wessex until he had duly provided forthe defence of the capital, and had personally examined all thedefences with a warrior's eye. At length the messengers who watchedthe Danish fleet announced its arrival at Greenwich, and that bands ofwarriors, numerous as locusts, were issuing thence, and advancing uponLondon. 

Reluctant as Edmund was to leave the city, it was evident that if hedelayed another day he might indeed share the perils of theinhabitants, but would probably lose Wessex, where his immediatepresence was all-important. Therefore he called Alfgar, and bade himprepare at once for a journey to the west. 

Their intended route led them, in the first instance, to Dorchester, where a large force from Mercia, including most of the men whom Edmundhad so long disciplined himself, and who were under the temporarycharge of Hermann, were to meet him. However, it was late before theirfinal arrangements could be made, and the sun had already set when thecitizens accompanied them to the Ludgate, and bade them an earnestfarewell. 

They were both clad in light defensive armour, such as could be wornon a rapid journey, and armed with sword and battle-axe. Their ownsteeds, two of the finest horses England could produce, famous forspeed and bottom, awaited them at the gate. Edmund criticised theircondition with a jealous eye, and then expressed approval. 

"Farewell, Englishmen of the loyal and true city! Until we meet inhappier times, farewell! You will know how to guard hearths and homes. Till we return to aid you, farewell!"

And, striking spurs into his steed, he and Alfgar rode across theFleet river, and, ascending the rising ground, pursued their coursealong the Strand. 

"We shall have a moonlight ride, " said the king. "Look, Alfgar, 'tisnearly full. "

"My Lord, do you see those dark spots on the river near Thorney Isle?"

"Ah! I see them, and recognise the cutthroats. They are the Danes, whoare bent on surrounding the city. Had I my five hundred, I would soongive some account of that detachment. "

"But now, my Lord, had we not better strike into the northern road atonce, before they see us? We are but two. "

"No; I should like to see them a little closer, and then across theheath for Windsor. They must have fleet steeds that catch us. "

So they persevered until they had attained a rising ground from whichthey perceived the whole force, nearly a thousand strong, of whom onehalf had crossed the stream. But the figures of our two adventurers, outlined on the hill, were too distinct to elude their observation, and a dozen dark horsemen rode after them at full gallop. 

"Now for a brisk ride, " said Edmund; and the two dashed wildly onward, clearing ditch or hedge until they attained the rising groundafterwards known as Hounslow Heath, still followed by their pursuers. 

Here Edmund paused and looked round. The speed at which they rode hadseparated their pursuers, as he had expected, and one was far theforemost. 

"Stand by, Alfgar, " he said; "two to one is not fair. I thirst for theblood of this accursed Dane. "

Alfgar knew that he must not dispute the royal will, although hethought the risk of delay very perilous, with a crowd of foes upontheir track. While he waited up came the Dane, powerfully mounted, swinging his heavy battle-axe. He swooped upon Edmund, who caused hishorse to start aside, avoided the stroke, and then, guiding his horseby his knees, and raising his axe in both hands, cleft his antagonistto the chin before he could recover. 

"Here come two more. Now, Alfgar, there is one apiece. The rest are amile behind them. You may take the one on the light grey, I will takethe rascal on the dark steed. "

Another moment and they were both engaged. Alfgar foiled hisopponent's first stroke, and wounded him slightly in return. Now thebattle became desperate, attack succeeding attack, and parry, parry. Meanwhile Edmund had again laid his foe prostrate in the dust, but didnot interfere; such was his chivalrous spirit in what he considered anequal combat, although he cast anxious looks behind, where two orthree other riders were rapidly approaching. 

At last victory inclined to Alfgar's side. Parrying a tremendousstroke with his axe, he returned it with such vigour that the nextmoment the Dane lay quivering in the dust. 

"There appear to be only three or four more. I think we might engagethem. By the by, Alfgar, you missed one splendid chance through yoursteed not answering your guidance to the moment. But I am tired of thebattle-axe, and shall use my sword for a change. 

"Ah! there come half-a-dozen more round those firs. We must rideforward and give up the sport. "

Their enemies saw them and quickened their pace. They came to the spotwhere their countrymen lay prostrate, and the cry of revenge theyraised, and the manner in which they urged their steeds forward, showed how strongly the sight appealed to their feelings. 

Onward flew pursuers and pursued--onward till Windsor's height, withits castled hall, appeared in sight, and tempted them to seekrefreshment for man and beast. But they dared not linger on theirjourney, and passed the town without entering. 

They rode all night through a most desolate country, wasted by fireand sword in all directions. Only in a few spots was there anyappearance of cultivation, for who would sow when they knew not whoshould reap? Not one lonely country house, such as abounded in thedays of Edgar the Pacific, did they see standing, although they passedthe blackened ruins of many an abode, showing where once the joys ofhome held sway. Here and there they came upon the relics of strife, inthe shape of bodies of men and horses left to rot, and in one spot, where a ford had been defended, the rival nations had left theirfallen representatives by hundreds. It must have been months before, yet no one had buried the bodies. Such people as still existed withoutthe fortified towns had betaken themselves to the woods, or therecesses of the deep swamps and forests, as the people of Aescendunehad done. 

As they drew near Dorchester, they found yet more sanguinary traces ofrecent war, for the Thames had been the scene of constant warfare. Bensington, half burned, had partially recovered, and had renewed herfortifications; Wallingford, hard by, had never risen since thefrightful Christmas of 1006. 

Dorchester now rose before them. They had accomplished fifty miles ofhard riding that night. They were seen, challenged, and recognised, bya patrol without the gates, and the cry, "Long live King Edmund!"echoed from all sides. A thousand gallant Mercians, the nucleus of anarmy, each man fit to be a captain, awaited them there, and Edmundfelt his spirits revive within him, and his hope for England; andAlfgar met Hermann with great gladness. 

It was pitiful to see the blackened ruins of churches and palace, which had not been rebuilt since the Danish raid of 1010, but thecommoner dwellings were rising with rapidity from their ashes, or hadalready risen, for the shelter of the earthworks and otherfortifications was not to be despised, and prevented the place frombeing utterly abandoned. 

Yet it may be noted that Dorchester never fully recovered the eventsof that dreadful year, and that its decay probably dates from theperiod. 

Resting only a few hours, during which they were the guests of Ednoth, the bishop, they departed with his fervent blessing and earnestprayers for their success, and rode westward, attended by their wholetroop. 

Every town they reached received them with enthusiasm. They were nownear the birthplace of the great Alfred, where the hearts of thepeople were all thoroughly with their native princes; and men left alltheir ordinary occupations to strike one blow for King Edmund andEngland. Onward, and like a rolling snowball, they gathered as theywent, until they entered Wiltshire with ten thousand men, and, crossing the country, reached the opposite border with all the bravemen of Wilts added to their numbers. 

They were now approaching Dorsetshire, and saw before them a risingground, with a large stone set in a conspicuous position. 

"What stone is that?" inquired Edmund of a thane, whose habitation washard by, and who had joined him with his whole household. 

"It is called the county stone. It marks the place where threecounties meet--Somerset, Wilts, and Dorset; it is in the village ofPenn. "

At this moment a horseman was seen riding wildly after them from thecountry in the rear. 

"See that man; he brings news, " said Edmund, and the whole partypaused. 

"Alfgar, " whispered Edmund to his confidential attendant, "there ishot work coming; I have long since scented the foe behind. "

The messenger arrived, bowed low to the king, and waited permission tospeak, while his panting breath betrayed his haste and his excitement. 

"Well, your message?" said Edmund; "you have ridden fast to bring it. "

"My lord, Canute, with an army of fifty thousand men, is followingbehind with all his speed. "

Edmund looked proudly around upon his host; it was almost equal innumber. Then he looked with a soldier's eye on the ground before him, and saw that it was the very place where a stand could be made withevery advantage of ground. 

"It is well, " said Edmund; "we will wait for him here. "

A loud cheer from those around him showed how he had succeeded inimparting his own brave spirit to others. The trumpets commanded ahalt; and Alfgar and other riders bore the commands of the king to theextremities of the host. 

Each division took up rapidly the position assigned; for in thisdomestic war men fought side by side with those they had known fromchildhood, and were commanded immediately by their own hereditarychieftains. 

The broken nature of the ground protected them well from an attack oneither flank, and they strengthened this advantage by throwing up amound and digging a ditch, with the greatest rapidity. 

While thus engaged, they saw the flashing of spear and shield in theeast, reflecting the setting sun, and speedily the whole countryseemed to glow with the sheen of weapons. 

Edmund raised himself in the stirrups. 

"Englishmen! brethren!" he cried, "you see your foe, the ruthlessdestroyers of your land and kinsfolk; the pagan murderers of yourarchbishop, the sainted Alphege. God will help them that helpthemselves. It shall be ours to strike one glorious blow for libertyand for just vengeance on this field. I vow to the God of battles Iwill conquer or die. "

He took off his helmet and looked solemnly to Heaven, as he called onthe Supreme Being to register his vow, and a deep murmur of sympathyarose around, until it found loud utterance in the cry, "We willconquer with our king or die, " from a thousand voices, until theglorious enthusiasm spread throughout the camp. Glorious when menfight for hearth and altar. 

Edmund looked proudly around. 

"With such warriors, " he said, "I need not fear Canute. "

The trench and mound were completed, but the enemy did not advance. Heplanted his black raven banner two miles off in the plain, arrangedhis forces, and halted for the night. 

"We must fight tomorrow at dawn of day, " said Edmund. "Now, bid thecampfires be lighted; we have plenty of meat and bread, mead and wine;bid each man eat and drink his fill. Men never fight well on emptystomachs. Then return yourself to my side, and share my tent thisnight; perhaps--perhaps--for the last time. "

"If so, woe to England--woe!" said Alfgar. "But I have confidence thather day of tribulation is passing from her. The blood of the martyredsaints cries aloud for vengeance on the Danes. "

CHAPTER XXI. EDMUND AND CANUTE. 

The watch was duly set; campfires were lighted, and joints of meatsuspended over them; barrels of wine and mead were broached, for allthe country around contributed with loving willingness to the supportof its defenders; and when hunger was appeased the patriotic songarose from the various fires, and stirring legends of the gloriousdays of old, when Danes and Norsemen fled before the English arms, nerved the courage of the men for the morrow's stern conflict. 

Around the fire kindled next the tent of Edmund sat the warriormonarch himself, with all the chieftains, the ealdormen, and lesserthanes who shared his fortunes. 

The minstrels and gleemen were not wanting here, but none could touchthe harp more sweetly than Edmund himself; and, the banquet over, hesang an ancient lay, which kindled the enthusiasm of all his hearers, and nerved them to do or die, so that they longed for the morrow. 

Before it was over the trumpet announced some event of importance, andsoon a messenger brought the tidings to Edmund that a large force wasadvancing from the west. 

All rose to look at them, not without anxiety; as yet they were fardistant, across a wild moor, but as they drew nearer, and theirstandards could be more clearly discerned, it became gradually evidentthat it was a reinforcement; and so it proved, for heralds, gallopingforward, announced the men of Dorsetshire. 

They were most gladly received, for now the English forces were equalin number to their adversaries, and every man felt the hope of victorystrong within him. 

At length Edmund bade messengers go through the camp, and cause everyman to retire to rest, for they must all be stirring by dawn on themorrow. 

He himself, with Alfgar, went through the host and then inspected thewatch. When he came to the outpost nearest the foe he found Hermann onduty as officer of the watch, and spoke earnestly to him and his men. 

"Be on your guard, " he said, "as men who know that the welfare ofEngland depends upon them; if you see the least movement on the partof the crafty Canute, rouse the camp at once; they are not unlikely toattack us by night if they can surprise us, not otherwise. "

Alfgar was standing on a low mound contemplating the opposite camp, that of his own countrymen, attentively. 

"Well, Alfgar, my son, do you see aught?" said Edmund approaching him. 

"I fancied I saw some figures seek the hollow where the ditch passesfrom us to them. "

"We will wait and see whether aught comes of it, " said the king; "howdo you like our prospects?"

"Well, my lord, I would sooner be with you at this moment than in anyother place in England. "

"Even than in Aescendune?"

"Yes; just now. "

"Alfgar, do you think your father yet lives?" said Edmund, as he againgazed upon the Danish camp. 

"I think not; I fear he is numbered amongst the dead; I have over andover again inquired of Danish prisoners whether they knew aught ofhim; they all said he had not been known in their ranks for years. "

"The chances of a warrior's life are so many that he may notimprobably be gone, but remember you found another father atCarisbrooke. "

"I shall never forget that, my lord. "

Here Hermann interrupted them. 

"My lord, would you look closely at that little clump of furze uponthe banks of the brook?"

"By St. Edmund, there they are! now to catch Danish wolves in a steeltrap; creep back within the mound. "

The whole guard was speedily aroused. 

"Shall we alarm the camp?" said Hermann. 

"Not for the world, they want all the sleep they can get; this willonly be a reconnoitring party; did they find us asleep they would ofcourse cut our throats, and then bring their brethren to attack thecamp. As it is, I think we shall cut theirs instead. "

"They have disappeared. "

"Only to appear with more effect; they will be creeping like snakescoming to be scotched; they won't find a man like Edric at the head ofthe English army now--one who always chose the sleepiest and deafestmen for sentinels. Ah, well! he is openly with the enemy now; I onlyhope he will come within swing of my battle-axe tomorrow. 

"Ah! There they are. "

"Where?" inquired two or three low voices eagerly. 

"Creeping up the slope; now get your arrows to your ears; take theopposite men when they arise. "

A few moments, during which men could hear their own hearts beat, whenup rose the Danes from the grass like spectres, and rushed for themound. A storm of arrows met them, to which nearly half succumbed. 

Swinging his axe, Edmund, followed, by the rest, jumped from the moundto meet the survivors; numbers were nearly equal, the English nowslightly superior. Each man met his individual foe. Young Hermann'ssword broke against a Danish axe; he rushed in and got within theswing of the weapon; both wrestled for the deadly steel, they fell, rolled over and over on the grass; at length Hermann grasped hisopponent's throat like a vice with his mailed hand, and held till thearms of his foe hung nerveless by the side and the face grew black, when, disengaging his right hand, he found his dagger, and drove it tothe victim's heart. 

"Well done!" said Edmund; "you are the last, Hermann; Alfgar hasfinished some time; we have been watching you; this little beginningpromises luck tomorrow. 

"You and I must retire now, Alfgar. 

"Good night, Hermann; good night, my men; wipe your swords on thegrass; keep them bright. "

The morning dawned bright and radiant; and with the first appearanceof the sun the horns of the English blew their shrill summons, and thewhole army awoke as a man. A hurried meal was partaken of, hurried ofnecessity, for the Danes were already emerging from their camp, andforming their lines in order of battle. They evidently meant, asusual, to take the initiative; in fact, in the recent reign, had theynot done so, there would never have been any fighting at all. 

Every one, both friend and foe, expected that Edmund would await theonset in his entrenched camp. Great, therefore, was the surprise, whenhe led his forces without the entrenchments, with the observation thatthe breasts of Englishmen were their best bulwarks. 

He knew his forces, that they had confidence in him; and he could nothave shown better his confidence in them, and his feeling that thetime had now at length come to assume the offensive. 

Canute was doubtless somewhat surprised, yet he was learning to knowEdmund. 

The English hero divided his army into three divisions: The rightwing, where he posted around his own person the chosen band whom hehad trained during the last few years of retirement; the left wing, chiefly composed of the men of Wessex; the centre, the weakest andnewest recruits, whom he posted there with as deep a design as ledHannibal to use the same strategy at Cannae. 

The Danes advanced impetuously to the attack, led by Canute himself, somewhat similarly divided, and Edmund at once advanced his forces tomeet them. One hundred yards apart, both armies paused, and glaredupon each other. There was no flinching. With teeth firmly set, lipscompressed, and the whole body thrown into the attitude of a tigerabout to spring, each warrior gazed upon the foe. 

The Danes, clad in black armour, with their ponderous battle-axes, andfierce visages, upon which no gentle ray of mercy had yet shone; theEnglish, their minds set upon avenging the outraged national honour, the desolated homes, the slaughtered families: the Danes bent onmaintaining their cruel superiority; the English bent on reversing itor dying: the Danes hitherto victorious on nearly every field; theEnglish turning upon their oppressors as men to whom the only thingwhich could make life tolerable was victory. 

Canute's voice was heard crying, "Now, warriors, behold the hounds yehave so often chastised await your chastisement once more. "

Edmund, on the other hand, "Victory, my men, or a warrior's grave! Wewill not live to see England prostrate beneath the tyrant any longer. "

Then came the rush: the crash of steel upon steel, the hideous melee, where friend and foe seemed blent in one dense struggling mass; thecries which pain sometimes extorted from the bravest; the shouts ofthe excited combatants, until Edmund's centre gave way. 

He had expected this, and desired nothing more. The Danes pressed ondeeply into the core of the hostile army, when they found theirprogress stopped by some of the bravest warriors who formed the rear, and at that moment the wings curved round upon them. 

"Come, my men!" shouted Edmund; and with Alfgar by his side, followedby the whole of the English cavalry, burst upon the rear of the Danes. He and his cleft their way in--hewed it through living masses offlesh; trampled writhing bodies under foot; their very horses seemedto laugh at the spear and sword, until before him Edmund saw Canutehimself. He struggled violently to reach him; slew two or three livingimpediments, and the two rivals faced each other for one moment; thencame Edmund's ponderous blow. Canute avoided it, but his horse fellbeneath it; the spine severed near the neck. He was dragged upinstantly by his armour bearer, who attended upon him, as Alfgar uponEdmund, and before the attack could be renewed a living torrentseparated the combatants. 

The victory was won; the Danes were in full flight. 

O joy for England! the day of her captivity was turned; henceforwardshe might hope. The foe, the invincible foe, was flying before anEnglish king and an English army. 

For while on the one side Edmund had charged the foe on their leftflank, on the other side the men of Wessex had imitated his example, and the foe yielded. 

Still, terrible in defeat, more than half fought their way out of thetrap into which they had fallen, and retired upon their camp, closelypursued, until the trump of Edmund recalled the pursuers, anxious lestthey should in turn fall into an ambuscade, for reinforcements wereawaiting the Danes behind. 

. . . . . . 

From this time the prospects of Edmund and England brightened. Dayafter day fresh reinforcements came into his camp, until he followedCanute, who had retreated into Wiltshire. There, a few days later, asecond battle was fought at Sceorstan {xvi}, wherein much braverywas shown on both sides. On Monday the two armies fought all daywithout any advantage on either side. On the Tuesday the English wererapidly getting the better, when the traitor Edric, severing the headof a fallen Englishman named Osmaer, held it up, shouting:

"Flee, English! flee, English! Edmund is dead. "

They began to yield; and it was as much as Edmund himself could do, bylifting his helmet, exposing his features, and shouting, "I live tolead you to victory!" to restore the battle. 

Canute retired upon London, followed closely by Edmund. Upon the roadmessengers came from Edric imploring the forgiveness of his injuredbrother-in-law, and offering to join him with all his forces. Therewas long consultation over this in the English camp; but in spite ofEdmund's own feelings it was decided to receive Edric, since Canute'sfate would seem to be quite decided if England were united by theunion of those southern English who had fought under Canute withEdric, and the men of Mercia and Wessex who had won the previousvictories. 

So the two armies met together. The men of Hampshire, who had followedthe Dane, were welcomed as returning to their true allegiance by theircountrymen; and Edmund did violence to his feelings by receiving Edricto his council board, if not to his friendship. 

It was a joyous day when Edmund approached London, and thus fulfilledthe promise of his coronation. Canute, who had made another attempt onthe city, fled before him, but hovered around until two days later. Edmund engaged him the third time at Brentford, and defeated himagain. Then Edmund retired into Wessex to raise more troops, andduring his absence the Danes took the offensive again, once morebesieging London in vain, while they harried all the neighbouringdistricts until Edmund returned with a large army, drove them intoKent, and gave them such a fearful defeat at Otford that they fled indespair to the Isle of Sheppey, and all men said Edmund would havedestroyed them utterly, had not Edric persuaded him to stop thepursuit at Aylesford. 

The Danes soon emerged again, and, crossing the Thames, commencedplundering Essex, when Edmund and Edric, with all the flower of theAnglo-Saxon race, advanced to meet them once more. Nearly all the menof note in England followed Edmund's banner, for, now that hisabilities were proved, there was a general enthusiasm in his favour. So all the rank and title of the realm stood by him when he drew uphis army hard by the little river Crouch, near Assingdun, in Essex, then called Assandun. 

There, by his side, when the tents were pitched the evening before thebattle, stood many a brave ealdorman, --Godwin of Lindsey; Ulfketyl, the hero of the East Angles; Ethelweard, the son of the piousEthelwine, whom men called the "Friend of God. " And present at thatlast banquet were Ednoth, the bishop of Dorchester, and otherecclesiastics, who had come to pray for the host and to succour thedying with ghostly aid. Well nigh all the great men of England werehere. But Edric supped in their midst. Their spirits were high thatnight, and while Edmund drank to their success on the morrow, each manresponded with a fervour which augured confidence in that morrow'sissue--all save the wicked Edric, whose heart seemed far from hiswords. 

The events of that fatal morrow are matter of history. The armiesjoined battle. Victory seemed to favour Edmund. The Danes were alreadygiving way, when Edric turned and fled, with his whole division, whomhe had corrupted. After that all was disorder amongst the English; butthey continued fighting bravely until the moon arose, and they werebecoming surrounded on all sides, when, in sheer desperation, they atlast gave way. 

Edmund would not yield until Alfgar seized the bridle of his horse, and almost by violence caused him to turn his steed, bidding him livefor England, for he was its hope. It was growing dark rapidly, and thedarkness alone saved Edmund and the relics of the English army. 

With a faithful few, including both Alfgar and Hermann, nearly all ofthe party wounded, the English king rode sadly from the scene, groaning bitterly in spirit. 

"Why did I trust him again? Why did I trust him?" he kept muttering tohimself. 

"You did not trust him. The council overruled you. I was present, "said Alfgar. 

"But I might have resisted. "

And he persisted in his unavailing regret. 

It was a sad sight to see the field of battle strewn for miles withthe dead and dying, while gangs of plunderers swarmed in alldirections. One sharp encounter with such a party served to warmEdmund's blood, after which he was a little more cheerful. 

But the saddest scene in the flight lay on a gentle eminence, commanding a view of the field, whose deformities night mercifullyshrouded from view, although the murmurs of the wounded reached themeven there in one long subdued wailing moan. 

There, on that little hill, lay bishops and abbots in their sacerdotalapparel. Where they had met to pray, there they lay in death! With adeep sigh Edmund recognised Ednoth, bishop of Dorchester, lying starkand stiff in his bloody robes. A troop of Danish horsemen hadsurrounded the hill and massacred them all. The assassins had evenhewn Ednoth's finger off for the episcopal ring. 

Yet, even at this awful crisis, Edmund's lion heart did not whollyfail him, as he left the field where lay all the flower of theAnglo-Saxon race: the brave and faithful Ulfketyl, Earl Ethelweard, Earl Godwin, Elfric the ealdorman, and well nigh all the great men ofEngland, all sleeping in death. He rode to the south till he reachedthe vale of the Thames, which he pursued until he reached theneighbourhood of Gloucester--Alfgar and Hermann still by his side. Andnow it was seen how his merits were recognised, and how he had alreadygained the love of his people, for, from the territory of the Hwiccas, and all the extreme west of Mercia, men flocked to his standard untilhe was at the head of an army almost as numerous as that he had lostat Assingdun, only less perfectly disciplined and officered. 

But Canute followed hard upon his heels, hoping to crush him while yetweak in numbers, until he discovered, to his great mortification, hisrival's camp on the banks of the Severn, and saw that the forces wereagain nearly equal. 

Then even the Danish chieftains shuddered at the thought of anotherbattle. Five great battles had been fought, in three of which they hadbeen defeated. There was no Edric now with Edmund to play into theirhands, and they hesitated to engage a sixth time. 

At this moment an embassy was seen approaching from Edmund's army. Alfgar bore Edmund's personal defiance to Canute, offering to sparethe effusion of blood, and settle their differences by single combat. 

Canute's brave and impetuous temper caught the suggestion at once. Such appeals to the God of battles were common in the north, and heaccepted the challenge. 

There is an island in the Severn, then called Oleneige, now calledOlney Island. The following day both armies gathered together onopposite banks, and the two kings, clad in splendid armour, werewafted thither. Alfgar, having landed his lord, retired with beatingheart to the English bank. Edmund and Canute were alone on the island. 

The battle began; no words can describe the dread emotion with whichthe two nations watched the event. 

They continued a long time without any apparent advantage; at length, King Edmund's fury adding strength to him, his blows were so thick andweighty, that Canute, perceiving his own strength to diminish, conceived a resolution to attempt ending the quarrel by a treaty. 

But being crafty, and fearing lest his disadvantage should be apparentto Edmund, he collected all his energies and rushed furiously uponhim, then withdrew himself aside, and desired Edmund to suspend theconflict for a while. 

"Generous prince, " said he, "hitherto I have had a covetous desire ofyour kingdom, but now I do yet more earnestly covet your friendship;your father and my father have each reigned over the land, let usdivide the inheritance like brothers. "

Edmund's generous spirit led him to accept the offer, and he threw hisbattle-axe to the ground and extended his right hand, which Canuteeagerly grasped {xvii}. 

So the land was divided; Edmund was to be head king and to haveWessex, Sussex, Kent, East Anglia, and Essex, with the city of London;while Canute had Northumbria and Mercia. 

Canute professed himself a Christian, and swore to govern his peopleaccording to the old English laws, and to preserve their temporal andspiritual privileges, a promise which, upon the whole, he wellobserved. 

And so England entered upon a peace of fifty years, only broken by anevent yet in the womb of time, the Norman Conquest. 

"Come, Alfgar, " said Edmund, one day soon after these events, "let usgo to Aescendune and fix thy wedding day; Elfwyn need fear no longerthat the sword will be the portion of his grandchildren. "

Peace! sweet, sweet peace! oh how joyful it was to be once more in thedeep woods of Aescendune, to hear the sweet song of the birds, and tofear no evil! Sweet, ineffably sweet were those days to Alfgar andEthelgiva!

So the day was at length appointed; it was to be the feast of St. Andrew, and to take place at Oxenford, which had been assigned toEdmund's dominions; for he insisted that it should be celebrated withall the pomp the presence of a king could lend. 

It was now the season of the falling leaf and there were only a fewweeks longer to wait. 

CHAPTER XXII. SMOOTHER THAN OIL. 

It was the latter end of November, and St. Andrew's day drew near, when a small but select party of friends met together in an oldmansion hard by St. Frideswide's Cathedral, at Oxenford, to enjoy theevening banquet. 

First and foremost was the king of Southern England, the valiantIronside, and his attendant and friend Alfgar; Elfwyn and FatherCuthbert from Aescendune, with the Lady Hilda and Ethelgiva; Herstan, his wife Bertha, and son Hermann, from Clifton, with his sisters; andEthelm, the new bishop of Dorchester, the successor of the martyredEdnoth. 

These, our old acquaintances, had all been gathered together in viewof the approaching union of Alfgar with Ethelgiva, which was to besolemnised on St. Andrew's day, in the presence of the king. They werea happy party; all the woes of the past seemed forgotten in the happypresent, or were only remembered in the spirit of the well-known line:

"Haec olim meminisse juvabit. "

The more substantial viands were removed, generous wines from warmerclimes were introduced, but there was no need of a harper or ofminstrels, save Edmund himself, or of legends and tales to those whoselives had passed amidst scenes of excitement. They were such as makehistory for future generations. 

"How the wind howls without tonight!" observed Edmund; "it makes onevalue the blessing of a quiet home and a cheerful fireside. How often, Alfgar, have you and I lain on such nights under the shelter of acanvas tent, or even of a bush. "

"Often, indeed, my liege; but those days are gone, perhaps for ever. "

"They had their joys, nevertheless. There is something in a life ofadventure which warms the blood and makes time pass swiftly; mygoodwife and I sometimes tire of each other's company, as I expectEthelgiva and you will in time. "

"Never!" said Alfgar, so fervently that there was a general smile. 

"Well, time will show; meanwhile, how is the new hall at Aescendunegetting on, Elfwyn?"

"It will be ready by next spring; then the young people must make ittheir home. Our home in the woods has proved a shelter to us throughsuch troublous days that Hilda and I are loath to leave it. But, meanwhile, they must live with us. "

"And how about the priory?"

"It will be ready before the hall. "

"That is well, " observed the bishop, "and as it should be--God'shouse first, and then man's. "

"Well, Hermann, " said Edmund, addressing his young friend, whosecareer in arms he had closely watched since the attack upon the hallat Clifton, "how do you like the prospect of a long peace?"

"A peaceful life has its delights, " replied Hermann, "but war has alsoits charms. "

"Well, thou hast passed unscathed through five great battles, or atleast without any serious wound; but remember all are not sofortunate, and many a poor cripple sighs over Penn, Sherston, Brentford, Otford, or Assingdun. "

"The excitement of war blinds one to the risk. "

"So it should, or there would be no war at all. What does my fatherthe bishop think of the matter?"

"That wars are necessary evils, only justifiable when fighting, asyou, my lord, have done, for home and altar, but they are no truechildren of the Prince of Peace who delight in bloodshed and strife. "

Edmund pondered. 

"And yet I fear I must plead guilty of delighting in a gallant charge. It stirs the blood, till it flows like fire in the veins. The feelingis glorious. "

"Yet not one to be encouraged, save when it enables one to performnecessary deeds of daring for some worthy object, such as holyScripture praises in the heroes of old. "

The conversation now became general. Elfwyn and Herstan talked of theold days of Dunstan; Alfgar and Hermann of the events of the recentwar; the good bishop and Father Cuthbert on ecclesiastical topics; theladies upon some question of dresses and embroidery for theapproaching festivity, which seemed to interest them deeply, when anattendant entered, and approaching the king, whispered a message inhis ear. 

"What! in this house? I will not have it. He knows how hateful hisvery presence must be. "

"Your sister, the Princess Elgitha?"

"Well, I will see her. No, I will not. "

"It is too late, Edmund. You must see me, " said a sweet voice, and alady, attired in mourning weeds, stood beside him. "It is but sevenmonths, Edmund, since we lost our father. Shall his children rend anddevour each other?"

"I do not want to rend and devour. I am no cannibal; but, Elgitha, your wicked husband--"

"Stay, Edmund, do not slander the husband before his wife. "

"This is a business! What am I to say? I cannot dissemble, and pretendto love him, were he ten times my brother-in-law. "

"Nor can I ask it, " said a deep voice behind, and Edric stood beforeEdmund, his eyes cast down, his hands meekly clasped. "Edmund, I haveoften deeply injured you, and betrayed your confidence. "

"You have indeed. "

"But now I repent me of my wickedness. It burdens me so heavily that, but for your sister, I would retire into a monastery, and there end mydays. "

"It would be the best thing you could do. "

"It would indeed. "

This conference had taken place at the end of the great hall, whichwas a very spacious chamber, and the speakers were separated by ascreen from the company. 

"Edmund, " cried his sister, "I see what you will do. You will make mea widow; for Edric cannot live if you refuse him forgiveness. Nightafter night he tosses on his uneasy bed, and wishes that it were day. Surely, Edmund, you have need of forgiveness yourself, yet you refuseto forgive. "

"You preach like a bishop, but--"

"Well, you have a real bishop here. Call him, and let him judgebetween us. "

Edmund mechanically obeyed, and he called Father Cuthbert also, inwhose judgment he had great faith. 

"What am I to do?" he said. "My country's wounds, inflicted by thisman, yet bleed. Am I to give him the hand of friendship?"

"I do not deserve it, " said Edric, meekly. 

"My lord, " said the bishop, gravely, "man may not refuse forgivenessto his fellow worm; but, Edric, hast thou truly repented of thy sinbefore God and his Church?"

"I have indeed. I have fasted in sackcloth and ashes, I have eaten thebread of affliction. "

"Where?"

"In my sad retreat, my castle in Mercia. "

"But some public reparation is due. Art thou willing to accept suchpenance as the Church, in consideration of thy perjuries, thy murders, which man may not avenge, since treaties protect thee--but which Godwill surely remember, if thou repent not--to accept such penance, Isay, as the Church shall impose?"

"I submit myself to your judgment, most reverend father. "

"It shall be duly considered and delivered to thee; and inconsideration of that fact, I think, my lord, you cannot, as aChristian man, refuse to be reconciled. "

"O Edmund, my brother, be merciful!" said Elgitha. 

"I yield, " said Edmund, "but not tonight, " he said, as Edric stretchedout his hand, reddened by many a dark deed of murder; "tomorrow, before God's altar. I shall be at St. Frideswide's at the early mass. "

And he returned to the company. 

A cloud was evidently on his spirits that night, which did not wearoff the rest of the evening. The party separated at what would now becalled an early hour. The bishop and Father Cuthbert lodged at themonastic house of Osney; Elfwyn, his wife and child, as also Herstan, with his little party, were accommodated in the mansion. 

The chamber occupied by the king was a long roomy place, containing asingle bedstead of carved wood, surmounted by the usual distinctivecanopy, from which tapestried hangings depended, and upon whichscriptural subjects were woven; the furniture of the room partook ofthe usual meagreness of the times. The entrance was through a smallantechamber, wherein, on a humbler bedstead, Alfgar slept. Both roomswere hung with tapestry, which concealed rough walls, such as abuilder would blush to own as his handiwork in these luxurious days. 

Before retiring to rest, Edmund turned with much affection to hisattendant. 

"Alfgar, I have promised to forgive our enemy. "

"Edric Streorn?"

Alfgar added no more. 

"Couldst thou forgive him?"

"I would try. "

"His hand is red with blood. Think of Sigeferth, of Morcar, ofElfhelm, nay, of a hundred others; then think not how he has plottedagainst my life, but how he made my own father hate and disown me;while he, the pampered favourite, swayed all the councils and betrayedthe land. O Alfgar! couldst thou forgive him?"

"He plotted against my life and my honour, too, " said Alfgar, "andstrove to deprive me of both; yet I am too happy now to harbourrevenge. "

"Well, I meet him at St. Frideswide's tomorrow, and we shall beformally reconciled in the presence of the bishop and his clergy, wherewith I trust he will be content, and not trouble me too oftenwith his presence. "

"Where is he staying now?"

"I hardly know; but after the reconciliation I must admit him as myguest, for my sister is with him, if he chooses to stay; but I hopethat will not be the case. "

"His ill-omened presence would cast a gloom upon St. Andrew's day. "

"It would indeed; it shall be avoided if possible. And now let uscommend ourselves to the Lord, who died that we might be forgiven. 'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass againstus. '"

And they slept. 

On the morrow before the altar of St. Frideswide, the king and Edrichad their places in the choir. 

One very touching ceremony, handed down from early times, was stillobserved in England--the "kiss of peace, " occurring at some periodbefore the close of the canon of the mass, when all the members of thecathedral chapter, or of the choir, as the case might be, solemnlysaluted each other. 

And for this reason Edmund and Edric had been placed next each other. So when this most solemn moment arrived, they looked each other fullin the face, and gave and received the sign of Christian brotherhood. 

After this they both communicated. 

When the holy rite was ended, Edmund invited Edric and Elgitha tobecome his guests. 

Edric knew the old palace well. He had occupied it one well-rememberedseason, during which, in that very banqueting hall where we haveintroduced our readers, Sigeferth and Morcar, the earls of the sevenburghs, were treacherously murdered at the banquet after Edric hadpreviously made them heavy with wine. 

There was the usual gathering that evening. Did Edric remember theplace, and the bloody event which only he and one other presentconnected with the spot?--for Edmund had been far away, and the matterhad been hushed up, as far as was possible, by all the power andinfluence Ethelred could exert in his favourite's cause, or rather hisown, for he, the royal villain, shared the ill-gotten spoil. 

If he did remember it, he took care not to show it that night. He wasas calm and self-possessed as a man could be--as a smiling sea underthe summer sky--smiling so that the heedless voyager knows not whathideous trophies or past storms the smiling depths conceal. 

So was it with this treacherous penitent. 

His presence, however, somewhat chilled the conversation, and theybroke up early; the more so as it was a vigil, the vigil of St. Andrew, and men strictly observed the law of the Church on suchsubjects in those days. 

When he bade Edmund goodnight, Edric said:

"You cannot tell how true a peace has found its home in my breastsince our reconciliation, which I feel I owe greatly to theintercession of your patron St. Edmund, to whose tomb I made apilgrimage, where I besought this one grace--our reconciliation. "

Edmund thought of the holy thorn; but Edric continued:

"And you will be glad to hear that the bishop has decided upon mypenance. It is to be a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. "

"I am heartily glad to hear it, " said Edmund, speaking the very truth, although he did try to forgive as he hoped to be forgiven. 

And they separated. 

Meanwhile happiness and expectation were high in the breasts of thehappy lovers, Alfgar and Ethelgiva. The morrow was to unite them. Theladies sat up nearly all night making the wedding robes complete, andrichly adorning them--Hilda, Bertha, and Ethelgiva, with many skilfulhandmaidens. 

They had almost finished their task, and were about to separate, whenSt. Frideswide's bell tolled the first hour of the morning (oneo'clock). 

"We are very late, " said the lady Hilda, as well she might, for ourancestors generally retired early, as they rose early; and they badeeach other goodnight. 

"Happy, happy Ethelgiva!" said the mother as she kissed her darling, not without a maternal sigh, for she felt as if she were losing heronly child, who had for so many a year been the light of theirwoodland home--her only child, who had filled not simply her own placein their affections, but as far as she might the place of the lovedBertric. 

But the kiss was suspended. The whole party stood silent andbreathless; for a loud and bitter cry, as of one in extreme anguish, broke upon the silence of the night. 

Ethelgiva uttered but one word as she bounded towards the staircase, for she knew the voice:

"Alfgar!"

CHAPTER XXIII. WHO HATH DONE THIS DEED?

Alfgar never saw his beloved lord enter his chamber with a look ofgreater weariness than he bore that night. 

"It has been a hard fight, old friend, " said the familiar king, "butwe have conquered; for my part, I would far sooner have stood outagainst him, battle-axe in hand, than have met this struggle, could Ihave foreseen it beforehand; but now I have given him the kiss ofpeace, peace it must be; he has no more to dread from me. "

"Nor you from him, I trust. "

"I must trust so, or I should not feel I had really forgiven, and Icannot give my hand where my heart is not; but yet it was such afight. 'Tis easy to stand in the deadly gap and keep the foe from abeleaguered citadel: men praise the deed, and there is a feeling ofconscious pride which sustains one, but the truly great deeds arethose which no chronicler records. It requires more bravery to forgivesometimes than to avenge. "

"I can well believe that, my lord. "

"Well, if my path has been beset with foes, so has it with friends. Such love as yours, Alfgar, I say as yours has been!--well, few kingsshare such affections. "

"My lord, you first loved me; at least you saved me from a fearfuldeath. "

"And you have warded off death from me again and again in thebattlefield; nay, deny it not, nor say it was merely your duty, men donot always do such duty. "

"My lord, you praise me more than I can feel I deserve. "

"Not more than I feel you deserve, and yet were not this your lastnight as my companion, were not tomorrow's ceremony to separate us, perhaps for ever, I do not think I should thus overwhelm your modesty. 

"You blush like a girl, " said he, laughingly. 

He lingered some time, and seemed loath to undress. At last he said:

"Have you seen the messenger Canute sent me?"

"Yes; I entertained him at the buttery as you requested. "

"Well, he came with a proposal from Canute that we should join inbuilding and endowing a church at Assingdun, where a priest may eversay mass for the souls of our dead, whether English or Dane. Of courseI have accepted the offer, but Canute added another and moremysterious message. "

"And what was that?"

"'Beware, ' he said, 'of Edric; his apparent desire of reconciliationcannot be trusted;' and he added that Edric was like a certain personwho wanted to become a monk when he was sick. "

"I fear he speaks the truth. "

"But I cannot act upon his advice; it is too late now. I have strivento do what I thought, and the bishop said, in his Master's name, wasmy duty--well, I have my reward in the approbation of my conscience. Goodnight, Alfgar, goodnight; I shall sleep soundly tonight; I hopesome day I may lay me down for my last long sleep as peacefully. "

Alfgar followed his example, and, commending himself to God, slept. 

About half-an-hour after midnight Alfgar awoke with a strangeimpression upon his mind that some one was in the room. It was verydark and stormy, and the wind, finding its way through crevices in theill-built house, would account for many noises, but there wassomething stirring which was not the wind, and the impression wasstrong on his waking senses that between him and the window, which wasopposite his bed, a figure had passed. 

Not fully trusting impressions produced at such a moment, yet with aheavy vague sense of evil weighing him down like a nightmare, Alfgarlay and listened. 

At length he heard a sound which might have been produced by fallingrain percolating through the roof, drop, drop upon the floor, but itwas strange, for there was no sound of rain outside at that moment. 

At length a cold draught made him turn his head, and he dimly sawEdmund's door open and disclose the window within the room, then shutslowly again. 

He could control his apprehensions no longer, and rose gently from hisbed, so as not to warn the foe, on the one hand, should one bepresent, or if, as he strove to believe, all was fancy, not to awakeEdmund. No one was in his own little room, that he felt rather thansaw in a moment; but some one might be in Edmund's, and he passedthrough the door, which he remembered, with a shudder, was shut firmlywhen Edmund said "goodnight. " At that instant he heard a low click, asof a spring lock, but very faintly; hesitating no longer, he passedinto the monarch's room, and advanced to the bedside. 

"My lord!" he gently whispered, but there was no answer; he spokeagain in vain. 

Just then he felt his naked feet come into contact with some wetsubstance, slightly glutinous, on the floor, and shuddered at thecontact. All trembling, he put his hand to the pillow, and drew itback; it was wet with the same fluid, which his reason and experiencetold him was blood. He could hardly refrain from crying for help, butfirst sought a light. The process of procuring light then from flint, steel, and tinder was very slow, and it was some minutes before he hada taper lighted, when its beams disclosed to his horror-stricken sightEdmund, weltering in his blood; a dagger had been driven suddenly andswiftly to his heart, and he had died apparently without a struggle. The weapon yet remained {xviii}. 

Here his affliction and grief overpowered him; he threw himself uponthe body from which he had withdrawn the weapon; he kissed the nowcold lips; he cried, half distracted, "O Edmund, my lord, speak!"

Alas! those lips were never to speak again while time lasted. Atlength the first deep emotion passed away, and left the unhappy Alfgarcomparatively master of himself, whereupon he left the chamber, andcried aloud for help. 

It was his cry which the ladies heard in their distant bower. 

The piercing cry, "Help! Edmund, the king, is slain!" roused thehousehold--Elfwyn, Herstan, Hermann, the ladies, agitated beyondmeasure; the household guard; and, last of all, Edric. 

They beheld Alfgar in his night dress, all bloody, holding a dagger inhis hand, and with his face blanched to a death-like paleness, uttering cry upon cry. 

"Help! Edmund, the king, is slain!"

They (the men) rushed to the chamber, and, passing through Alfgar'slittle room, beheld, by the light of many torches, Edmund bathed inhis own blood, which still dripped with monotonous but terrible soundon the floor. 

Edric entered, and with woe, real or affected (no one could tell), painted in his face, approached the body; and Elfwyn and Herstanbeheld, or thought they beheld, a prodigy: they thought they saw theeyes open, and regard Edric, and that they saw the blood well up inthe wound. But doubtless this was fancy. 

"One thing we all must do, " said Edric; "we must all help to find themurderer. The first step to that effect will be to note all presentappearances. First, where is the weapon?"

"Here, " said Alfgar, extending it. 

"Why, Alfgar, it is your own dagger, " said Elfwyn; "one which he gaveyou himself. "

Alfgar uttered a plaintive and pitiful cry. 

Edric possessed himself of the blood-stained weapon. 

"Alfgar, " said he, "you must have slept soundly. Tell us what youheard and saw. "

He briefly related the particulars with which the reader isacquainted. 

"But how could they enter? Was your door unfastened?"

"No; it was bolted on the inside, even as I left it last night. "

"Bolted on the inside! then they must have entered through thewindow, " said Edric, noting the words. 

"Impossible, " said both the thanes; "they are barred, both ofthem--heavily barred. "

"We can no longer assist our departed lord save by our prayers, " saidEdric. "God be thanked, he died friends with me. I shall value theremembrance of that kiss cf peace in St. Frideswide's so long as Ilive. And now I, once his foe, but his friend and avenger now, devotemyself to hunt the murderer. So help me God!"

"So help me God!"

"So help me God!" said all present, one after the other. 

"We are then of one heart and soul, and no tie of kindred, nofriendship, shall bar our common action. And now we must rouse thereeve and burgesses; the gates of the city must be closed, that noneescape. I will send members of the guard to do this, and when theyhave assembled we will all take counsel together. "

"O Alfgar, " whispered Elfwyn, "how came your dagger there?"

"I know not. I feel as one distracted, " said the faithful and lovingAlfgar, who had lost by this fell stroke a most faithful friend, withthe warmest heart which had ever beaten beneath a monarch's breast. 

Oh, how the thought of the conversation last night came back to himnow--the warning of Canute, the loving words of affection which hadbeen spoken to him by those lips now cold in death!

All the imperfections of his character now faded away; he seemed sobrave, yet so loving, so invincible in combat, yet so gentle andforgiving, as he had shown in forgiving even--even--even--said Alfgarto his own wounded bleeding heart--even in forgiving his murderer. Forin his eyes it was Edric, and none but Edric, who had done this deed. 

But a terrible suspicion of a very opposite nature was rapidlyassuming sway in other men's minds. 

A council met before daybreak--the reeve or mayor, the chiefburgesses, two or three thanes then in the town, the officers of theroyal guard, Elfwyn, Herstan, and Edric. After a few preliminariesEdric rose and spake as follows:

"We have met together under the most awful responsibility which couldfall upon subjects. Edmund, our king, has been murdered, and by whomwe know not. "

All were silent. 

"I grieve to say, " he continued, "that there is but one upon whom oursuspicions can now fall with any shadow of probability--one who isnow absent, for I thought it well not to summon him to this council;and before naming him, I must recall to you, Elfwyn, and to you, Herstan, the solemn oath we have all three taken to disregard allappeals of natural affection, and to ascertain the truth, God beingour helper. "

"We have. "

"We have, " said they with bursting hearts, for they foresaw whataccusation Edric was about to bring. 

"I grieve, then, to say, " he continued, "that this natural affectionmust be bitterly tried, for there is but one to whom my words canapply. Meanwhile, I will put a few questions. With whose dagger wasthe deed committed?"

"Alfgar's, " replied those who had been there the previous night. 

"Whose chamber commanded the only entrance to the royal chamber?"

"Alfgar's. "

"Who incautiously, as if forgetting himself, stated that he found thedoor bolted on the inside?"

"Alfgar. "

"But the motive--the motive? The poor fellow loved him as he loved hisown father. "

"I cannot explain that difficulty, but I can suggest one motive whichmay already have suggested itself to several. But let me ask of whatnation is Alfgar?"

"A Dane; but an Englishman by long habit. "

"I can answer for that, " said Elfwyn. 

"Once a Dane always a Dane. Now a secret messenger arrived from Canuteyesterday, and had a long private interview with Alfgar. In short, Idare not say all I know or suspect, for there can be little doubt whowill reign in England now. "

All were silent. 

At length Edric continued, "none can deny that we have grounds for oursuspicions. "

"Yes, I do deny it, " said Elfwyn, "the more so when I remember whomakes the accusation. "

"You do well to reproach me; I deserve it, I confess, and more thandeserve it. Yes, I was Edmund's enemy once; but perhaps you rememberyesterday and the early mass at St. Frideswide's. "

"We do, we do, " cried all but Elfwyn and Herstan; but they wereutterly outvoted, and the order was given to the captain of thehus-carles to arrest Alfgar. 

Alfgar, desolate and almost distracted, not heeding that he was notsummoned to the council, as he might so naturally have expected to be, wandered mechanically about the palace until the bell summoned him tothe early mass. The bishop was the celebrant, for Father Cuthbert wasto have officiated at the celebration of the marriage of his son inthe faith. The solemn pealing of the bell for the mass at the hour ofdaybreak fell upon Alfgar's ears, and he turned almost mechanically tothe cathedral, yet with vague desire to communicate all his griefs andtroubles to a higher power than that of man, and to seek aid from adiviner source. 

He entered, knelt in a mental attitude easier to imagine thandescribe, but felt some heavenly dew fall upon his bleeding wounds; heleft without waiting to speak to any one at the conclusion of theservice, and was crossing the quadrangle to the palace which occupieda portion of the site of modern Christ Church, when a heavy hand waslaid upon his shoulder. 

He turned and saw the captain of the guard; two or three of hisofficers were beside him. 

"It is my painful duty to arrest you and make you my prisoner. "

"On what charge?" said the astonished Alfgar. 

"The murder of the king. "

CHAPTER XXIV. THE ORDEAL. 

The news of the murder of Edmund spread far and wide, and awakeneddeep sorrow and indignation, not only amongst his friends andsubjects, but even amongst his former enemies, the Danes, now rapidlyyielding to the civilising and softening influences of Christianity, following therein the notable example of their king, Canute, who waseverywhere restoring the churches and monasteries he and his haddestroyed, and saying, with no faltering voice, albeit, perhaps, witha very inadequate realisation of all the words implied, "As for me andmy house, we will serve the Lord. "

Ealdorman and thane came flocking into Oxenford from all theneighbouring districts of Wessex and Mercia. The body of the lamentedmonarch was laid in state in St. Frideswide's; there wax tapers shed ahallowed light on the sternly composed features of him who had beenthe bulwark of England; and there choking sobs and bitter sighs everyhour rent the air, and bore witness to a nation's grief. And there, two heartbroken ladies, a mother and a daughter, came often to pray, not only for the soul of the departed king, but also for the discoveryof his murderers and the clearing of the innocent, for neither Hildanor Ethelgiva for one moment doubted the spotless innocence of Alfgar. 

They were refused admittance to the cell wherein he was confined byEdric, who had assumed the direction of all things, and whose claim, such is the force of impudence, seemed to be tacitly allowed by thethanes and ealdormen of Wessex. 

But Elfwyn and Herstan could hardly be denied permission to visit him, owing to their positions, and they both did so. They found him in achamber occupying the whole of the higher floor of a tower of thecastle, which served as a prison for the city and neighbourhood, rudely but massively built. One solitary and deep window admitted alittle air and light, but the height rendered all escape hopeless, even had the victim wished to escape, which he did not. 

"Alfgar, my son!" said Elfwyn, finding the poor prisoner did notspeak, "do you not know us?"

"Indeed I do; but do you believe me guilty, nay, even capable of--"

He could add no more, but they saw that if they doubted they wouldhear no more from him--that he scorned self-defence. 

"Guilty!--no, God forbid! we alone in the council asserted yourcomplete innocence. "

"I thank you; you have taken away the bitterness of death--andEthelgiva?"

"Would die for her conviction of your truth. "

"Thank God!" he said fervently, his face brightening at once; tears, indeed, rolled down his cheeks, but they seemed rather of gratitudethan grief. 

"We wanted to see, my son, whether you could aid us in discovering thereal assassin--whether you can in any way account for his possessionof your dagger, for your door being still, as you asserted, fastinside. "

"I knew it made against me, but I couldn't lie, it was fast inside. "

"Then how could the foe have gained admittance?"

"I could not discover that, but I think there must have been somesecret door. Edric had perhaps lived in the Place before; he onceresided in Oxenford. "

"He did, and in that very house, " said Herstan. "I was here at thetime when he assassinated Sigeferth and Morcar in the banquetinghall. "

"That may supply a clue, I know no other possible one. "

"But how, then, did he get your dagger?"

"I think our wine was drugged the night before, or I should not haveslept so soundly. I remember with what difficulty I seemed to throwoff a kind of nightmare which oppressed me, and to come to myself. "

"Then I will get a carpenter and search the wainscoting; and I willsee whether I can learn anything about the wine, " said Elfwyn. 

"Do so cautiously, my father, very cautiously, for if Edric suspectsyou are on his track, he will plot against your life too, andEthelgiva will have no protector. 

"Oh, this was to have been my wedding day, my wedding day!" and heclasped his hands in agony; then the thought of his master--his slainlord--returned, and he cried, "O Edmund! my master, my dear master, sogood, so gentle, yet so brave; who else could slay him? what fiendelse than Edric, the murderer Edric? That they should think I, or anyone else than Edric, could have done such a deed, such an evil deed!"

Elfwyn and Herstan both left the scene, the more convinced of Alfgar'sinnocence, but yet the more puzzled to convey their impression toothers. 

Meanwhile the arrangements for Edmund's burial were made. It wasdecided, according to the wish he had more than once expressed, thathe should rest beneath the shadow of a shrine he had loved well; andon the second day after his death the mournful procession leftOxenford for Glastonbury, followed by the tears and prayers of thecitizens. There, after a long and toilsome winter journey, the funeralcortege arrived, and was joined by his wife Elgitha, his sons Edmundand Edward. They laid him to rest by the side of his grandfather, Edgar "the Magnanimous, " whose days of peace and prosperity allEngland loved to remember. There, amidst the people of Wessex who hadrallied so often to his war cry, all that was mortal of the Ironsidereposed. 

Meanwhile the crafty Edric, who excused himself from attendance on thesolemnities, tarried at Oxenford, and with him tarried also Elfwyn, Herstan, and the other friends of the unfortunate prisoner, to secure, as they were able, that justice should be rendered him. 

A special court of justice was speedily organised, wherein Edricpresided as ealdorman of Mercia, for Oxenford properly was a Merciancity, although, lying on the debateable land, it was frequentlyclaimed by Wessex as the border land changed its boundaries. 

The court was composed of wise and aged men, ealdormen, thanes, andburgesses had places, and the bishop of Dorchester sat by Edric asassessor. 

The court was opened, and the vacant places in the room were occupiedat once by the crowd who were fortunate enough to gain entrance. Thegeneral feeling was strong against the prisoner, the more so becausehe had been loved and trusted by Edmund, so that ingratitude added tothe magnitude of his crime in their eyes. 

But amongst those who stood nearest to the place he must occupy werehis betrothed, her mother, Bertha, and young Hermann, who had alreadygot into several quarrels through his fierce espousing of the cause ofthe accused. 

He entered at last under a guard, calm and dignified, in spite of hissuffering. He met the gaze of the multitude without flinching, and hisgeneral demeanour impressed many in his favour. Compurgators, or mento swear that they believed him innocent, a kind of evidence fullyrecognised by the Saxon law, were not wanting; but they consistedchiefly of his old companions in arms and his friends from Aescendune. In a lighter accusation, his innocence might have been established bythis primitive mode of evidence, but the case was too serious; theaccusation being one of the murder of a king. 

The charge was duly read; and to the accusation he replied, "Notguilty!" with a fervour and firmness which caused men to look up. 

The chamberlain was first examined. 

"Were you present when the late king retired to rest?"

"I was. "

"Who shared his chamber?"

"The prisoner slept in an antechamber. "

"Was there a fastening to the outer door of the antechamber?"

"Yes; a strong bolt. "

"Could it be opened from the exterior?"

"It could not. "

"Was there any other entrance to the royal apartments?"

"None. "

The dagger was produced, and Elfwyn was examined. 

"Do you recognise the weapon?"

"I do; it was Alfgar's. "

"How do you recognise it?"

"It was richly carved about the handle. The letter E is stamped uponit, with a crown. "

"Whence did the prisoner obtain it?"

"The king gave it him. " (Sensation. )

"Did you see it on the night of the murder?"

"I did. "

"Under what circumstances?"

"The accused held it dripping with blood in his hands, and said hefound it sticking in the corpse. "

Other witnesses were also called to prove these facts. 

The accused was then heard in his own defence, and he repeated withgreat simplicity and candour the circumstances so well known to ourreaders; and concluded:

"I can say no more. None who knew the love he bore me, and that I borehim, could suspect me. "

The bishop here spoke. 

"It is my office, " said he, "by the canons of King Athelstane, toassist secular judges in purging away accusations, therefore I willask the accused a few questions. "

"Had you any cause of suspicion against any other person--anything topoint out the doer of this evil deed?"

"All men loved him save one. "

"And who was that one?"

"He sits to judge me. "

"Nay, " cried the bishop, "we all beheld the reconciliation in St. Frideswide's church. "

"The king himself was warned not to trust to the reconciliation. "

"By whom?"

"His brother sovereign. "

"Canute?"

And here Edric perceptibly changed colour. 

"Even so. "

"Your proofs, " said the bishop--"nay, my lord Edric, trust yourreputation to the justice of God and the court. "

"The messenger from Canute, who came here on the vigil of St. Andrew. "

"Where is he?"

"He has returned to Canute, " said Elfwyn. 

"Aught else?"

"Only I would bid you remember that the ealdorman Edric sought in likemanner reconciliation with Elfhelm of Shrewsbury, and all men knowwhat followed. "

Here Edric interrupted--"I do not sit here to be judged, but to judge. These accusations cannot be heard. "

"There is a judgment seat above where you will not be able to makethat plea, " said the prisoner solemnly. 

"Alfgar, " said the bishop, "this counter-accusation cannot bereceived; have you aught else to urge?"

"None. I commit my cause to God. "

The court retired. 

The pause was long and painful. It afterwards transpired that thebishop pleaded in Alfgar's favour, while Herstan ably seconded him;but all was in vain. Edric's eloquence, and the strong circumstantialevidence against the prisoner, carried the day, and the ealdorman evenproposed that execution should be speedy, "lest, " he whispered, "Canute should interfere to screen his instrument. "

It was a dangerous game, but he thought the services he had renderedthe Danish cause enabled him to play it safely. 

They returned. All men saw the verdict in their faces. Edric spokewith great solemnity. 

"We find the prisoner guilty. "

There was a dead pause. 

"I appeal to the judgment of God. I demand the ordeal cf fire, " saidAlfgar {xix}. 

"It cannot be denied, " said the bishop, who had anticipated theappeal. "I myself will see to the preliminaries; and it may take placetomorrow morning in St. Frideswide's church. "

Edric and his sympathisers would fain have denied the claim, but theycould not resist the bishop, backed as he was by the popular voice, for the cry, "The ordeal! yes, the ordeal!" was taken up at once bythe populace. 

While he was hesitating, his brother Goda appeared amongst the crowd. 

"Canute, " he whispered, "draws nigh Oxenford. He has heard what isgoing on. "

Edric trembled, but soon recovered himself. However, it was not a timeto deny justice. 

The following morning the church of St. Frideswide was crowded at theearly mass. All the friends of the accused were there, and Edric withall his party. The holy service was about to commence, when the crowdat the church door moved aside; a passage was speedily made though thecrowd, and three or four ecclesiastics, one habited as a royalchaplain, escorted a stranger, to whom all paid instinctive reverence, yet hardly knowing why, for he was only clad in the ordinary robesworn by noblemen amongst the English. 

He was led to the choir, and placed where Edmund had knelt by Edric'sside some days previously. Edric saw him, and exchanged glances, afterwhich the ealdorman looked uneasy. 

On the other side knelt the prisoner, with Elfwyn and Herstan oneither side, and his colour heightened. Well it might. He had lastseen that figure when he fought by Edmund's side at Penn. But it wasnot that meeting. Words spoken ten years before came back to him withmarvellous force:

"Tell me what is the secret of this Christianity?"

And Alfgar knew that Canute had found that secret at last. 

"Why was he here? Did he come as his friend or foe?"

The mass was over. Alfgar had followed the whole ceremony with raptattention, for it was in God alone that he could now put hisconfidence. 

Then a furnace was placed in the church, containing nine bars of ironof red heat, and the fire was blown till the bars, quivering withheat, glittered in the sight. The bishop approached, and said theappointed prayers, that God would detect the innocence or guilt of theprisoner by their means, and reveal the truth known only to Him. 

Then a lane was formed up the church, and the friends of Alfgar keptone side, while those of Edric kept the other, after which the bars ofiron were laid down about two feet apart. 

The bishop approached. 

"Are ye all fasting with prayer?" he inquired. 

The friends of accused and accuser from either side replied:

"We are. "

"Humble yourselves, and pray to God to reveal the truth, " said he, andsprinkled them with holy water, after which the book of the Gospelswas passed all round to be kissed. 

"Pray that God may reveal the truth, " said he again. 

"We do so pray. "

Then Alfgar, who felt full of divine confidence, took his place at theend nearest the porch. He was given the book of the Gospels. 

"Swear thy innocence upon the holy Gospels, " said the bishop. 

"I do swear that I am innocent of the crime they lay to my charge;"and he kissed the book; then holy water was sprinkled upon his feet, and given him to drink. 

The decisive moment approached. He looked round, he saw Ethelgiva, hereyes full of tears, her lips moving in prayer. 

All fear departed from him. 

The bishop blindfolded him. 

"My son, trust in God, and in His strength go forward, " he whispered. 

Alfgar could see nought now. A line of red string was stretched fromthe bishop's hand to that of a priest at the other extremity, to guidehim. Canute advanced, took the end from the priest's hand and held it. 

Alfgar started one step. The first iron is passed safely--two, thesecond cleared. The excitement is intense. Three cleared--four, five. Ah, he nears the sixth! No, he misses it!--seven, eight--onemore--nine! SAVED BY GOD!

Ethelgiva fainted. A deep sound of applause, not even suppressed bythe character of the place. Elfwyn received his adopted son in hisarms:

"Saved, saved!" he cried. 

"Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory!" replied Alfgar. 

When the first congratulations were over, and Alfgar had somewhatrecovered from the excitement of the shock, and from thecongratulations which were heaped upon him upon all sides, he was toldthat Canute awaited him in the audience chamber, and at once repairedto the presence of his future king with less emotion than may beimagined; for he was worn out by sensation, and becoming callous toimpressions. 

He was formally introduced by the officer in waiting, and the king atonce dismissed that functionary. 

"Alfgar, son of Anlaf, we have met before, " observed the monarch. 

"We have, my lord. "

"I did not refer to later occasions, when we have met on thebattlefield, but to a far earlier one. Need I recall it? Surely thereare some moments in one's life never to be forgotten. "

"There are indeed, my lord. Pardon my confusion. You refer to a scenein Carisbrooke. "

"Yes. When I asked you, 'What is this Christianity?' you had not muchtime given you to answer me then, but your deliberate choice of abitter death, in preference to abandoning it, showed me there wassomewhat deeper in it than I had imagined. Alfgar, there are seedslightly sown which bear fruit hereafter, and your words were of such acharacter--so that I, your future monarch, owe you already a debt ofgratitude, and I had come hither to fulfil it when you saved me thetask by appealing to the ordeal. I for one had full faith in thejustice of God. But had you not so appealed, I should have stepped inbetween Edric and his victim. "

"You did not then, my lord, believe in my guilt?"

"Not for one moment. The lad who defied my unhappy father in thefrantic fury of his power--the warrior I had seen fighting by the sideof his king--the faithful attendant of many years?--Nay, it wasmonstrous; who could believe it?"

"Many, alas! found it possible to believe it, my lord. But who hasbeen the murderer? You will not permit your brother's blood to fall onthe earth unavenged. "

"Wait. Be patient. God, in whom you trust, will direct the bolt in Hisown time. Edmund's blood will not be unavenged. And now, farewell!Remember, if you have lost one royal friend, you have found another. "

And Alfgar left the presence. 

The next day the whole party from Aescendune returned home. Oxenfordwas too full of bitter memories now. One grief of Alfgar was this--hehad not been able to stand by Edmund's grave. 

CHAPTER XXV. FATHER CUTHBERT'S DIARY. 

CHRISTMASTIDE 1017. 

Ten years ago, this very day, God in His mercy delivered us from theraging Danes at Cliffton, on Tamesis, and now He hath delivered usagain out of the hands of the raging lion, even of Edric Streorn, andwe are all spared to keep our Christmas in peace in the woods ofAescendune. 

It is probably the last I shall keep in this place, for the hall andpriory are fast rising from their ruins, and we shall soon return toour old home, from which we have been banished ten years and more. Itwill be sweet to be there once more, serving the Lord in peace, withnone daring to make us afraid. 

Here we are, all of us who are near and dear by the ties of blood, inthis woodland Zoar, which hath indeed been a Zoar in the latetroublous years, utterly untouched, which again we regard as a proofthat Anlaf does not live, for he could have found us out had hisrevenge led him to do so when Sweyn was in Mercia. Neither has heappeared to claim his own estate, which he might easily regain now aDane is king. 

Alfgar and Ethelgiva are now speedily to be united. Theirs is to bethe first marriage solemnised in the new minster church by my unworthyhands. To see them now, one would think they had forgotten all thepast peril. The old people do not mean to abandon their woodlandabode; they love it all too well, and call it the Happy Valley. Butthey say that a good road, now the times are safer, shall be made tothe old site, where we are again rearing hall and priory. 

There is now quite a colony here, nearly 300 people. The church isvery commodious, and every day, for the whole period of these latedreadful wars, mass has been said therein for our suffering brethren"contra Paganos. " Thank God that he hath at length heard our prayers;our late foes are no longer Pagans but Christians, and are as eager tobuild up as they were to cast down; in fact, several of them haveoffered their zealous aid in the rebuilding of our priory. 

We had such a happy Christmas evening. We sat by the fire, and Alfgarwas made to relate the whole story again of his escape with Edmundfrom Carisbrooke, of his imprisonment by Edric in the Synodune woods, of the attack and defence of Clifton. We had all heard it before, butstill we wanted to hear it again, just to contrast present peace andjoy with the danger and trials of those days, and to make them sweeterby the contrast. Truly our Christmas worship had need to be praise andthanksgiving, not only for the great mystery the church commemorates, but also for present mercies so freely bestowed upon us all. 

Second Sunday after Easter, 1017. --

We have just received intelligence that Canute has been solemnlycrowned at St. Paul's Church, in London, by Archbishop Lyfing. Hecalled a council of the whole kingdom previously, to which both mybrother and I were summoned, but I cared not to attend. Elfwyn, however, went, and wanted Alfgar to go, but he begged hard to beexcused, I imagine for two reasons. First of all, he laments Edmundtoo deeply to welcome his former enemy as his successor; and secondly, he does not care to leave Ethelgiva again. 

Well, Elfwyn tells us that when all were present--bishops, ealdormen, thanes, and the noblest of the people--Canute solemnly proposed thatthey should accept him as their king, giving them to understand that, by a tacit understanding with Edmund, it had been agreed that thekingdom should not be permanently divided, but that the survivorshould inherit and govern the whole realm. 

The wise men replied that, since Edmund's children were too young togovern, they could not desire a better monarch than Canute; theycommitted the little ones to his care, and acknowledged him as king ofall England. 

And on the morrow Archbishop Lyfing, who had so shortly before crownedEdmund, placed the emblem of regal dignity on the head of Canute inSt. Paul's Cathedral. 

I hear Edric Streorn is confirmed in the earldom of Mercia. I stillfear that man. 

Sunday after Ascension, 1017. --

On this happy Sunday it has pleased God to restore us to our home oncemore. The priory is rebuilt in more than its former beauty, and thehall beside it stands conspicuous in its splendour. They have notchanged the appearance much, for it was the especial wish of every oneconcerned that it should remind one of old associations as much aspossible. 

The good bishop of Dorchester, the abbot of Abingdon, and many othersof my friends amongst the brethren there, the neighbouring clergy andthanes, all met together to dedicate the new house to God. High masswas solemnly sung in the minster church, and the whole building washallowed with psalm and prayer to God; after which followed atemperate banquet. 

The bishop was very kind and loving, and spoke most affectionately toour poor people on the subject of their past trials; especially hecommended their new lord, Alfgar, to their allegiance, saying that inall his deep trials he had shown himself a most perfect Christian, doing his duty both to God and man. 

Monday. --

The abbot and brethren from Abingdon are gone back, and we poor happybrethren have entered again upon our regular duties. Ah me! what a gaptime has made in our ranks. Of the twenty brethren who were driven outby the Danes eleven years ago, only twelve yet live, and eightbrethren from Abingdon supply the place of the others. God be praisedthat Father Adhelm yet lives! He has been my right hand in so manyperils and trials. 

It is so delightful to be at home once more. Surely never were monkshappier. My heart swells when each morning we sing the three lastjoyful psalms at lauds. 

It is settled that Alfgar and Ethelgiva are to be married on theMonday after the Whitsun octave. O happy pair! O ter felices et nimiumbeati! I only hope they will not love earth too well. 

Octave of the Ascension. --

Today we have had a special messenger from Canute, who is in theneighbourhood, to express his royal intention to grace the approachingmarriage with his presence. It will indeed be an honour. Ah! but ifEdmund could be there. 

Whitsunday. --

I hardly know how to express my intense surprise and joy. Alfgar'sfather has returned--a Christian. 

While all the people were assembling for mass this morning, an agedman, clad in palmer's weeds, evidently worn by toil and travel, camefrom the bridge over the river, which has been rebuilt, towards theminster church, and entering, knelt down wrapt in devotion. Manyremarked his quaint attire; his face, once stern, now softened bygrace; his hair, once black as the raven's wing, now white as snow;his dark eyes gleaming beneath thick white eyebrows. I fear he causedmany wandering thoughts, and he would have caused yet more, could theyhave known that they beheld the penitent destroyer of the old hall andpriory. 

Now I preached, not knowing at the time who was amongst my hearers, from the words of Isaiah, "For thy waste and desolate places, and theland of thy destruction, shall even now be too narrow, by reason ofthe inhabitants, and they that swallowed thee up shall be far away. The children which thou shalt have, after thou hast lost the other, shall say again in thine ears. The place is too strait for me; giveplace to me, that I may dwell. "

Oh, how touching the words seemed; for our waste and desolate placesare indeed peopled with joy and gladness, and many must have thoughtof dear Bertric, our martyr boy, when they heard those words, "thechildren which thou shalt have, after thou hast lost the other. " Theyseemed a divine prophecy of joy and gladness unto us. 

And so I preached after this manner, and as I did so I saw thestranger was deeply moved, and marvelled who he could be, that heentered so deeply into so personal a sermon, which treated of apeculiar joy which a stranger intermeddleth not with. 

Now after the mass was ended, we came forth from the church, andAlfgar, with Ethelgiva, walked down the path to the Lychgate, whenAlfgar's eyes fell upon the stranger, whereupon, to our astonishment, he started, then stepped forward, fell on his knees, and cried, with achoked voice, "Father, your blessing!"

At first we thought it was reverence, somewhat exaggerated, to apilgrim, but when the aged man cried aloud, "The God of Abraham blessthee, even thee, O my son!" and the tears streamed down the furrows ofhis aged cheeks, we knew it must be something more than this, and soit proved. 

It was none other than Anlaf--Anlaf who had disappeared from all theknowledge of friend or foe for ten years!

We all received him, especially my brother Elfwyn, with great joy--forwe shared Alfgar's happiness--and we led him into the house, where wetendered him all the offices of hospitality. 

It was by degrees that we learned his story. He was really convertedto Christianity by the example of his son, whose words produced a fardeeper effect upon him than either he or Alfgar suspected at the time. 

And when he saw that son prefer a cruel death to apostasy, his heartwas moved--deeply moved, so that he pondered over all he had heardfrom him and from a once loved wife, whose words had seemed lost, butwhose prayers perhaps watered them into growth after she was dead andgone. So he left the army without telling any one whither he went, andsought instruction from a Christian. 

And he found a Christian priest hidden in the woods, where headministered the word and sacraments to a starving few, but secretly, for fear of the Danes; and from him he learned the truth and wasbaptized. 

Then, feeling himself unhappy in this distracted land--separated fromthe English by blood, from the Danes by religion--he determined to goon pilgrimage. 

Once in the Holy Land, he had to undergo much contumely from the paganSaracens, who, to the disgrace of Christendom, defile the Holy City bytheir presence, and maltreat the blessed pilgrims; but he had learnedto glory in humiliation. At last he retired to the woods on thesources of the Jordan, weary of earth, and there he joined an agedhermit, with whom he lived for two years, and when the hermit died hetook his place, and dwelt as an ascetic, ministering, however, to thenecessities of pilgrims who journeyed that way to the Holy Land. 

From some of these pilgrims he learned, at length, that English andDanes were united in peace, and a great desire of revisiting Englandand searching out his son seized upon him. On the road he heard thatEdmund was dead and Canute reigned alone, and so he came hither atonce, and has arrived, God so willing it, in time to see his sonmarried to the heiress of Aescendune. 

We have provided him lodgings in the priory. The new hall is not to bedwelt in till the night when the happy pair enter it and make it theirhome. 

Alfgar's cup of joy is full. 

Monday after the Whitsun Octave. --

At last it is over. The weary waiting of ten years is ended. Alfgarand Ethelgiva are man and wife. 

Canute gave away the bride in person. Elfwyn, Hilda, Herstan, Bertha, and Hermann, with his sisters--indeed all the kindred of the bridewere there. Of the kindred of the bridegroom but one, so far as weknow, is living--his father Anlaf. It has been a warlike race, andnearly all the members of the family have found a warrior's grave. 

I performed the ceremony, assisted by all the brethren in the choralportions of the mass and the order of the marriage service. Ethelgivawas pale and composed although she shed a few natural tears, but wipedthem soon. Alfgar was simple and unaffected, as he always is. All hedoes is so naturally done. Like Nathaniel, he is a man without guile. 

The church was crowded. All the retainers and all the neighbours werepresent, and when the bride and bridegroom left the sacred building, they saluted them with cheers which made the welkin ring. 

Then the whole party adjourned to the hall, which was crowded to thefullest extent. And for the poorer guests, who could not findadmittance, tables were spread in the open air, beneath the shade ofspreading trees, for the day was lovely even for June. 

Canute remained throughout the entertainment, and, by his unaffectedcondescension and his cheerful sympathy, won the hearts of all. Hisgeneral demeanour tends to efface his foreign descent from the mind. Yet we sighed for Edmund, for which even Canute would pardon us. Heshould have presided at the board. 

When the night was far advanced the whole party broke up and retiredto rest, after a day calculated to efface the recollection of many ahardship past. 

For my part, when I returned to the priory, I mused for a long time onthe dark paths through which our Lord has conducted us to this happyday. I thought of the period of Alfgar's conversion and baptism, ofSt. Brice's night, for which England has paid so heavy a penance, now, we trust, happily over. And while I thus thought, my musings led me tothe tomb of Bertric, whose sacred relics, as those of a martyr, nowlie interred beneath our high altar, and I wondered whether hisblessed spirit could sympathise in our earthly joy. Yes; I doubt itnot; and that he witnesses it from above. Through suffering to joy hasbeen our lot; through suffering to glory his. 

Tuesday. --

The king left this morning. His engagements are too numerous to permithim to give much space to recreation. Before he left he summonedAlfgar, Anlaf, and Elfwyn, to a conference in the library--for theyhave a library as of old in the hall--and then he told Alfgar that hehad talked with Anlaf who wished to convey the manorial rights of hisformer patrimony, and all its revenues, to his son, and to join ourbrotherhood, and that he desired him to witness the deed. Now, all theformer charters of Aescendune were destroyed in the old hall, and theking had caused a new one to be drawn up, supplying all the defectscaused by the loss of the earlier documents; conferring and securing, by royal charter, all the lands of Aescendune, and those formerlyappertaining to Anlaf, upon Alfgar, and his successors for ever, not, as he said, as a deed of gift, but as a charter securing and definingtheir rights and liberties, for him and his successors, to all futuregenerations; and adding all the waste land of the adjacent forest, formerly holden of the crown, to their domains, with right of alltemporal jurisdiction, and with the title of Earl, which title iscommon in the northern and more Danish districts, more so thanealdorman, which obtains in the south. 

"Thus much, " said he, "I know my brother Edmund would have done foryou, and in his place it has fallen to my lot. 

"Would, " he added, "I could be all to you which Edmund would have beenhad he lived; that, perhaps, is not possible; but I know, Alfgar, " headded, "how to esteem faithfulness, even when it has been sometimesexercised at my expense, for one once a rival, now only thought of asa brother. "

Then he turned to Anlaf. 

"Old companion in arms, " he said, "this makes up for Carisbrooke;well, Alfgar, hadst thou yielded then, thou hadst not been here now. Thy father and I owe thee something for the example thou didst setus. "

And then he turned to Elfwyn and wished him joy of his son. 

After that he came to the priory and prayed awhile in front of thealtar; his devotions ended, he came to my cell and made me a startlingoffer of a bishopric in Denmark, saying he thought there was much workto be done for God there, and he thought Englishmen would do it best;and thus, he added, after their Master's example, return good forevil {xx}. 

But an old oak such as I am cannot be uprooted, and perhaps it is acarnal feeling, but I fear my earthly affections bind me here whilelife lasts, so, thanking him warmly for the distinction implied in theoffer, I respectfully but firmly declined it. 

And so the king and his retinue left Aescendune. Elfwyn and Hildareturn in a few days to their happy valley; men have been at work forweeks making a good road there from the hall, and the journey willonly occupy two or three hours to a good walker. 

Herstan and his family leave for their home on the Thames (which hasbeen rebuilt, together with the little church of St. Michael)tomorrow. Anlaf takes his vows as a novice next Sunday, his novitiatewill be as short as the rules of our order allow; we shall all thenwelcome him as a brother. 

Soon our days will flow tranquilly on. May God mercifully continuepeace in our days. 

"Stablish the thing, O God, that thou hast wrought in us. "

Christmas, 1017. --

Strange news greet our festival. Edric Streorn has gone suddenly, unhouselled, unanointed, unabsolved, to his great account. Hermann, who is now an officer in the royal hus-carles, has arrived from court, and from him we have learnt all particulars. 

Edric was alone with the king in a chamber overlooking the Thames. Hermann was on duty without, with some of the guard, when he heardvoices within in hot contention. 

"You will grant me no favour, not even the life of this traitor, who, I tell you, is conspiring against you, and desires to place Edwy, theEtheling, Edmund's brother, on the throne in your place. "

"Your proof lies, I suppose, in the hatred you have always borne him, "was the king's reply. 

Hermann could not help hearing, they spoke so loudly, but the nextwords enchained his attention. 

"I tell thee the name 'Alfgar' is first and foremost amongst thesignatures of the men who have conspired to cast thee from thethrone. "

"Then I conclude you placed it there; tush, man, I know thee of old!"

"Why should you suspect this? was not he Edmund's faithful friend, worshipping him as a god, and would he not do all he could for hisbrother?"

"I thought you held him guilty of Edmund's murder. "

"That was only because I wished to remove two enemies from your pathinstead of one you will not remove one from mine; lo! I forsook Edmundmy king for thy sake, and for thy sake I slew him, and thus thourewardest me. "

Then Canute waxed furious, and he shouted, "Guard! guard!"

Hermann rushed in; and amongst others Eric, the Earl of Northumbria. 

"What, wretch! murderer! apostate blasphemer of the saints! didst thoumurder Edmund, my brother Edmund, who was dear to me as Jonathan toDavid, seeing we were bound to each other by an oath! Thou didststretch thy hand against the Lord's anointed, and thou shalt die thedeath. 

"Cut him down! cut him down, Eric! cut him down, Hermann. "

Eric stepped forward in an instant, and with his huge battle-axe cleftthe unhappy traitor, who had fallen to his knees to obtain mercy, fromthe head to the shoulders. 

"Throw the carcase out of window, " cried the furious king; "let thefishes have the carrion. Never shall he find a grave, the vileregicide; and that he should think I would reward his guilt! Nay, Ihave served him as David did the Amalekite. "

Eric and Hermann, between them, raised the corpse, and flung it, allbleeding and disfigured, into the Thames, the tide just running outbeneath the walls. 

I ought to write, "So let all thine enemies perish, O Lord!" But theawful doom of his unrepentant soul saddens me, much as he has hated meand mine. 

Lent, 1018. --

A strange discovery has been made which interests us all greatly. Atthe time of Alfgar's trial at Oxford, Herstan fancied there must be asecret staircase communicating with Edmund's room, but sought it invain. Now that Edric has avowed the deed, Hermann has obtained theking's permission to make a thorough search all through the house, andin the thickness of the huge stone chimney a secret staircase has beenfound, with a door opening through the thickness of the wall andpanelling into the room in which Edmund slept, as well as another dooropening into the banqueting hall, where Sigeferth and Morcar weremurdered. It is all clear as day now. Edric must have entered theroyal chamber from the banqueting hall in the dead of the night, andthus, when no human eye beheld, have accomplished his evil deed. Ah, well! he could not escape the eye of Him who has said "Vengeance ismine, I will repay. "

Eastertide, 1018--

A son is born to Alfgar and Ethelgiva; and today, Low Sunday, theypresented their babe to Him who said, "Suffer little children to comeunto me. " They have named him Edmund. The grandparents, both well andhappy, were present; and the proud and happy father's eyes sparkledwith joy over his little Edmund, glistening from the baptismal font. It fell to my happy lot thus to enrol the dear child amongst the lambsof Christ's fold. God grant him length of days here, and endlesslength of days beyond the skies when time shall be no more!

. . . . . . 

Here we close our extracts from Father Cuthbert's Diary; but; beforetaking leave of him, we are sure our readers would like to hear a fewmore words about his future fortunes, and those of the house ofAescendune. 

Better king than Canute, saving only the great Alfred, and perhapsEdgar, had never sat on the English throne. Under his auspices achange became visible throughout the whole country: villages againgladdened the blackened wastes; minsters and churches were rebuilt, whose broad, square Saxon towers yet hand down the memory of ourancestors. Agriculture revived; golden corn covered the bloodstainedscenes of warfare; men lived once more in peace under the shadow oftheir homes, none daring to make them afraid. Peace, with its hallowedassociations, gladdened England for fifty long years {xxi}. 

Anlaf was the first of the group we have introduced to our readers toleave this transitory world for a better one. He died a few yearsafter the accession of Canute. Father Cuthbert survived him manyyears, and died honoured and lamented in the last year of the greatking. 

His brother Elfwyn, and the lady Hilda, full of years, having outlivedthe natural span of man's appointed years, followed him shortly--nottill they had seen their grandchildren, a numerous and hopefulprogeny, grow up around them, and so perpetuate their race upon earth. 

And for Alfgar and Ethelgiva, they lived to see a their children'schildren, and peace upon Israel, surviving until the close of thereign of Edward the Confessor, the son of Ethelred and Emma. Theirdays were days of peace, in strange contrast to their youthful years. 

"Peace! and no more from out her brazen portalsThe blast of war's great organ shakes the skies;But, beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy harmonies of peace arise. "--Longfellow. 

THE END. 

i Genealogy of Aescendune. 

The reader may be glad to have the genealogy of the family in whom ithas been the author's aim to interest him placed clearly before him. The following genealogical table, including the principal names in"The First Chronicle of Aescendune, " as well as those in the presentbook, may suffice, the date of decease being given in each case. 

Offa, 940 * Oswald, 937. * Redwald, 959. * Ella, 959, m. Edith. + Elfric, 960. + Alfred, 998, m. Alftrude. O Elfric, 975. O Elfwyn, 1086, m. Hilda. # Bertric, 1006. # Ethelgiva, 1064 m. Alfgar. O Cuthbert, 1034. O Bertha, 1050 m. Herstan. + Edgitha, 990. 

ii Curse of Dunstan. 

"In the year of our Lord's incarnation 979, Ethelred, son of Edgar andElfrida, obtaining the kingdom, occupied, rather than governed it, forthirty-seven years. The career of his life is said to have been cruelin the beginning, wretched in the middle, and disgraceful in the end. Thus, in the murder to which he gave his concurrence he was cruel, base in his flight and effeminacy, miserable in his death. 

"The nobility being assembled by the contrivance of his mother, andthe day being appointed for Dunstan, in right of his see, to crownhim, he, though he might be ill-affected to them, forebore to resist, being a prelate of mature age well versed in secular matters. But, when placing the crown on his head, he could not refrain from givingvent, with a loud voice, to that prophetic spirit which he so deeplyimbibed. 'Since, ' said he, 'thou hast aspired to the kingdom by thedeath of thy brother, hear the word of God. Thus saith the Lord God:The sin of thy abandoned mother, and of the accomplices of her basedesign, shall not be washed out but by much blood of the wretchedinhabitants; and such evils shall come upon the English nation as theyhave never suffered from the time they came to England until then. 'Nor was it long after, that is in his third year, that seven piraticalvessels came to Southampton, a port near Winchester, and havingravaged the coast fled back to the sea. This I think right to mention, because many reports are circulated among the English concerning thesevessels. "--William of Malmesbury, English Chronicle, Bohn's Edition, pp. 

165-166. 

iii See "First Chronicle of Aescendune. "

iv Chronology of Father Cuthbert. 

The Christian era did not come in use until about the year 532, whenit was first introduced in the code of canon law compiled by DionysiusExiguus, and, even then, the year of the world was still frequentlyused, as in some cases in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. When at lengththe Christian computation became universal, some began the year withthe Incarnation (Christmas), others with the Annunciation; a customnot wholly abolished in England till 1752, when the "New Style, " orGregorian Calendar, was introduced. 

But in the latter part of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, and the portionupon which our tale is based, the year invariably opens with theNativity--hence this reckoning has been used in the text, and theChristmas day in chapter 3 begins a new year. 

v Now Banbury. 

vi Death of St. Edmund. 

There are two stories (or more) concerning the Danish invasion inwhich the saintly Edmund met his death; the first, alluded to in thesong of the Etheling (chapter 11), tells how Ragnar Lodbrog, a greatsea king, invaded England, but his fleet being shattered by a storm, fell into the hands of Ella, King of Northumbria, who threw him into apit full of toads and serpents, where he perished, singing his deathsong to the last, and calling upon his sons to avenge his fate. Thosesons were Hinguar and Hubba. They invaded East Anglia after they hadavenged their father upon Ella, and King Edmund fought against them, but was taken prisoner. They offered him his life and throne if hewould forsake Christianity, and reign under them. But he steadfastlyrefused, whereupon they put him to death after the manner described inthe tale in the case of Bertric, while he called steadfastly uponChrist until his latest breath. 

The other tale, given at length by Roger Wendover, tells that RagnarLodbrog, with only his hawk in his hand, was driven by a storm to thecoast of East Anglia, that King Edmund made him his huntsman, but theformer huntsman, Beorn, slew him through jealousy; that King Edmundput Beorn bound in the boat which had brought Lodbrog over, and senthim adrift to perish at sea. But the storm in turn blew him toDenmark, where he told the sons of the man he had slain that Edmundhad murdered their father. Hence they came to avenge him. Theremainder of the tale agrees with the former narrative, and is theonly portion which certainly possesses historical truth. 

St. Edmund has been much venerated in the eastern counties, and hisshrine at Edmundsbury was greatly reverenced. The tale of the death ofSweyn, given in chapter 18, is a proof of this feeling, in whichperhaps the legend partly originated. 

vii The Rista Oern. 

This punishment was usual among the Northmen, and was called "at ristaoern, " from the supposed resemblance of the victim to the figure of aneagle. The operation was generally performed by the chief himself. Itis thus described by Snorre:

"Ad speciem aquilae dorsum ita ei laniabat, ut adacto ad spinamgladio, costisque omnibus ad lumbos usque a tergo divisis, pulmonesextraheret. "--Snorre, p. 108. 

viii First appearance of Edmund. 

The first mention of Edmund in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle as thecommander of the English forces is A. D. 1015, where he was joined withEdric in the command, as related in the text, chapter 18. The date ofhis birth is uncertain, but the comparison of authorities appeared tothe author to justify the ascription of the character and actions, with which he is credited in the tale, to the English hero who firsttaught his generation to assert their equality with the fierce Danishinvaders. 

ix The appellations Wiltshire and Berkshire are of course of laterdate. 

x The early name of Abingdon. 

Johnson, the compiler of the famous collection of English canons, isof opinion that Cloveshoo, where the famous provincial council washeld A. D. 803, is identical with Abingdon, and that the town lost itsancient name simply owing to the growing notoriety of the famousabbey; for "no one, " says he, "can doubt that the name Abingdon wastaken from the abbey. " The first memorial, he adds, in which he findsthe name Abingdon, is in the Chronicle wherein the burial of BishopSidesman, A. D. 977, in St. Mary's Minster, "which is at Abingdon, " ismentioned, who was honourably buried on the north side of that fane inSt. Paul's Chapel. 

On the other hand, some learned antiquarians have maintained theopposite opinion, that the name Abingdon existed even prior to thefoundation of the monastery; thus the Rev. Joseph Stevenson, in hisedition of the "Chronicle of the Abbey of Abingdon, " says--"Abingdonderives its name, not, as might at first sight be supposed, from theabbey there founded--Abbey dune or Abbots dune: philology forbids it. The place was so called from Abba, one of the early colonists ofBerkshire. "

xi Bishops of Dorchester. 

There appears to have been much uncertainty concerning the successionof the bishops of this important see, owing, perhaps, to the confusioncaused by its having been the seat of two totally distinctjurisdictions--the one over Wessex, the other over great part ofMercia. 

The names of the bishops in the narrative are taken from a list kindlyfurnished by the Rev. W. Macfarlane, the present vicar of the AbbeyChurch, whose indefatigable efforts have restored to the ancient fanemuch of the glory of its ancient days. 

According to this list, Ednoth was bishop from 1006 to 1016, when hewas slain by the Danes as recorded in the text; and Ethelm succeeding, ruled the see till A. D. 1034, through the comparatively happy days ofCanute. 

xii End of the Campaign of 1006. 

The following extract from the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle" gives thefurther history of the campaign very concisely:

"Then went the Danes to Wallingford, and that all burned, and werethen one day in Cholsey: and they went then along Ashdown toCuckamsley hill, and there abode, as a daring boast; for it had beenoften said, if they should reach Cuckamsley hill, that they wouldnever again get to the sea: then they went homewards another way. Thenwere forces assembled at Kennet, and they there joined battle: andthey soon put that band to flight, and afterwards brought their bootyto the sea. But there might the Winchester men see an army daring andfearless, as they went by their gates towards the sea, and fetchedthemselves food and treasures over fifty miles from thence. Then hadthe king gone over Thames into Shropshire, and there took up his abodeduring the midwinter's tide. Then became the dread of the army sogreat, that no man could think or discover how they could be drivenout of the land, or this land maintained against them; for they hadevery shire in Wessex sadly marked by burning and by plundering. Thenthe king began earnestly with the witan to consider what might seemmost advisable to them all, so that this land might be saved, beforeit was utterly destroyed. Then the king and his witan decreed, for thebehoof of the whole nation, though it was hateful to them all, thatthey needs must pay tribute to the Danish army. Then the king sent tothe army, and directed it to be made known to them that he would thatthere should be a truce between them, and that tribute should be paid, and food given them. And then all that they accepted, and then werethey victualled from throughout the English nation. "--Anglo-SaxonChronicle, Bohn's Edition. 

xiii This is copied almost verbatim from the Anglo-SaxonChronicle. 

xiv The account is taken almost verbatim from Florence ofWorcester. 

xv Children of Ethelred. 

By his two wives--(1) Aelfleda--(2) Emma, Ethelred had fourteenchildren, of whom only four or five have been mentioned in thisnarrative, or are of importance to the student--Edmund Ironside andhis brother Edwy (chapter 25), by Aelfleda, and Alfred and Edward byEmma--the last well known in history as Edward the Confessor, andintroduced in Chapter XIX. Of this tale. The following genealogicaltable from Edgar to the children of Edmund may be of use. It will beremembered that the lineage of the present royal house passes throughthe last-named son of Edmund Ironside to Egbert:

Edgar * Edward the Martyr, d. 979. * Ethelred the Unready, d. 1016. + Edmund Ironside, 1016. O Edmund. O Edward, who became the great-grandfather of Henry the Second. + Edwy. + Elgitha. + Alfred, 1036. + Edward the Confessor, 1066. 

xvi Sceorstan. 

Antiquarians differ much about the site of this famous battle. Sharpthinks it was near Chipping Norton in Oxfordshire, and Thorpe, in hisnotes to "Florence of Worcester, " says--"May not Chimney be the spot, a hamlet in Oxfordshire, in the parish of Bampton-in-the-Bush, nearthe edge of Gloucestershire, the name of Chimney being merely atranslation, introduced after the Norman Conquest, of Sceorstan, whichmay probably have owed its origin to a Saxon house or hall, conspicuous for having a chimney when that luxury was of rareoccurrence?" Others say that Sceorstan was not in Anglo-Saxon "achimney, " but "a graven stone, " and make the site that of a boundarystone, still separating the four counties of Oxford, Gloucester, Worcester, and Warwick, near Chipping Norton. Bosworth says it isSherston in Wilts. 

xvii Single Combat between Edmund and Canute. 

The following account is from Roger of Wendover:

"A few days after this lamentable battle (Assingdun), in which so manynobles fell, King Edmund pursued Canute, who was now committingravages in Gloucestershire. The said kings therefore came together tofight at a place called Deerhurst, Edmund with his men being on thewest side of the river Severn, and Canute with his men on the east, both preparing themselves manfully for battle. When both armies werenow on the point of engaging, the wicked Earl Edric called togetherthe chiefs and addressed them as follows: 'Nobles and warriors, why dowe foolishly so often hazard our lives in battle for our kings, whennot even our deaths secure to them the kingdom, or put an end to theircovetousness? My counsel then is, that they alone should fight whoalone are contending for the kingdom; for what must be the lust ofdominion, when England, which formerly sufficed for eight kings, isnot now enough for two? Let them, therefore, either come to terms, orfight alone for the kingdom. ' This speech pleased them all; and thedetermination of the chiefs being communicated to the kings, receivedtheir approbation. There is a small island called Olney, in the mouthof that river. Thither the kings, clad in splendid armour, crossedover, and commenced a single combat in the presence of the people. Parrying the thrust of the spear as well by their own skill as by theinterposition of their strong shields, they fought long and fiercelyhand to hand, his valour protecting Edmund, and his good fortuneCanute. The swords rung on their helmets, and sparks of fire flew fromtheir collision. The stout heart of Edmund was kindled by the act offighting, and as his blood grew warm his strength augmented; he raisedhis right hand, brandished his sword, and redoubled his blows on thehead of his antagonist with such vehemence, that he seemed rather tofulminate than to strike. Feeling his strength failing him, and unablelong to endure such an onset, Canute meditated peace; but as he wascrafty, and afraid lest if the youth perceived his weakness he wouldnot listen to his words of peace, drawing in all his breath he rushedon Edmund with wonderful valour, and immediately drawing back alittle, he asked him to pause awhile and give him audience. The latterwas of a courteous soul, and, resting his shield on the ground, helistened to the words of Canute, who thus proceeded: 'Hitherto I havecoveted thy kingdom, bravest of men; but now I prefer thyself not onlyto the kingdom of England, but to all the world. Denmark serves me, Norway yields me subjection, the King of Sweden has shaken hands withme; so that, although Fortune promises me victory everywhere, yet thywonderful manliness hath so won my favour, that I long beyond measureto have thee as friend and partner of my kingdom. I would that thou inlike manner wert desirous of me; that I might reign with thee inEngland, and thou walk me in Denmark. ' Why should I add more? KingEdmund most graciously assented and yielded to his words, though hecould not be forced by arms. The kingdom was therefore, by Edmund'sdirection, divided between the two, the crown of the whole kingdomreverting to King Edmund. The whole of England, therefore, to thesouth of the river Thames, was ceded to him, with Essex and EastAnglia, and the city of London, the capital of the kingdom, Canuteretaining the northern parts of the kingdom. Laying aside, therefore, their splendid armour, the kings embraced each other amidst therejoicings of both the armies. They then exchanged their garments andarms in token of peace, and Edmund became Canute, and CanuteEdmund. "--Roger of Wendover, Bohn's Edition. 

xviii The Death of Edmund. 

This lamentable occurrence is involved in much mystery. Edric Streornwas generally credited with the deed, although some writers, e. G. William of Malmesbury, think he used the aid of attendants on theking, whom he bribed. The Chronicle is silent as to details. Henry ofHuntingdon ascribes the deed to a son of Edric. Roger of Wendoveragrees with him, adding the facts that the place was Oxford, and thetime St. Andrew's night, as in the text. Amidst these conflictingstatements fiction perhaps most legitimately takes its place. 

xix The Ordeal. 

This ancient custom was observed by Simplicius, Bishop of Autun, soearly as the fourth century, and was very generally in use during theperiod of our tale. Although never formally recognised by the Churchof Rome, and forbidden by many edicts on the Continent, it wasadministered in England under the direction of the clergy, and itsdetails prescribed by the canons during a period extending from thelaws of Alfred to the directions given in the ecclesiastical laws ofEdward the Confessor, the year before the Norman Conquest, A. D. 1065. The first prohibition of its use in England is in the third year ofHenry the Third. 

There were three principal modes of its administration. In the first, the ordeal by water, the accused had to take a heavy piece of ironfrom a boiling cauldron placed in the church--in the second, to carrya bar of heated iron nine feet. The hand or arm was bound in linen, the bandage sealed by the priest, and on the third day the limb wasuncovered. If the burn or scald had healed the prisoner was pronouncedinnocent, otherwise he had to suffer the punishment due to hisoffence. 

The details given in the text are chiefly taken from the Canons ofAthelstane; but the mode of purgation therein described is similar tothat by which it is said Queen Emma repelled an accusation made byRobert, Bishop of London, in the year 1046. This mode ofadministration was perhaps more frequently used when a prompt appealwas needed to the judgment of God, or in the case of persons of rank, were they ever, as was seldom the case, compelled to appeal to itsdecision. 

xx It was a subject of complaint against Canute in Denmark that hegave away most of the bishoprics to Englishmen. 

xxi Character of Canute. 

The great change in Canute's character after his accession to thethrone has been noticed by all writers. Each year he seemed to grow inself-command and in the practice of virtue, while all men were edifiedby his strict attention to his religions duties. Later in life he madea pilgrimage to Rome, and a letter written thence gives a good idea ofhis general affection for his people. It is addressed to thearchbishops and bishops and great men, and to all the English people, and is written in the familiar style a father might use to hischildren, especially telling them all he had seen at Rome, and aboutthe way in which he spent Easter with Pope John and the Emperor, whomhe persuaded to abolish certain dues exacted from English pilgrims. Inthe last portion of the letter he tells them how he has made up hismind to amend his life in every way, and to atone for all the wrongscommitted in the violence of youth. He forbids any person to useviolence or to make the royal needs an excuse for wrongdoing, saying, "I have no need of money gathered by unrighteousness. " He concludes bysaying that he is sure they will all be glad to hear how he has fared, and that they know he has not spared himself any trouble, and neverwill, to do all that lies in his power for the good of his people. 

There is something in the whole tone of the letter which warms one'sheart towards the writer, and one cannot help contrasting the reignsof the two conquerors, Canute and William: the first, beginning withviolence and bloodshed, grew daily in justice, mercy, and the love ofGod, and so passed lamented to his grave; the latter, promising atfirst to govern justly, grew worse and worse in oppressive cruelty andall sorts of wrongdoing, until the sad and hopeless death scene in theabbey of St. Gervase. But the delineation of the latter period must bereserved, all being well, for the "Third Chronicle of Aescendune. "