Chapter X: Part 10

He had beautiful curly, long, fair hair, and took great care of it; and since great respect was paid to appearance even in those rough times, and the hair, curiously enough, in all savage tribes and races, is always the object of great solicitude, although no other attention is paid to the person, he was allowed to have his wish. One of the eorls sitting by Arwald said he would do as the merry knave wanted, and stepped up to Beornwulf. He took his position behind him, grasping firmly the thick, bushy, curly locks. The other two prisoners moved a little more to the left, so as to allow room for the executioner to have full play for his axe; and the headsman prepared to perform his horrid office. Beornwulf watched him very steadily, the proper distance was measured, the executioner told him to sit very steady. "For," he said, "thou art a fine young man, and I would be sorry to spoil thy beauty;" to which Beornwulf replied, "Thank thee, poor knave; but it would take a good deal to spoil thine." Which retort so enraged the executioner, who was a snub-nosed, blear-eyed, red-haired man, and therefore felt the truth of the remark, that he swung back his axe, poised it, and then struck with all his force. There was a sharp cutting sound, a shrill cry, and a shout of astonishment from the crowd, while a loud mocking laugh rang out from--whom? Could it be the dead man? The crowd strained to look. There was no doubt about it. There was Beornwulf roaring with laughter; but instead of his head being on the ground, it was still on his shoulders; but something was on the ground. What was it? The crowd looked at the eorl. What was the matter with him? He was holding up his arms. But what had happened to them? _Where were his hands_? And then the trick dawned upon every one. And there were loud shouts of applause at Beornwulf's cleverness, for this was just such a joke as those rude, barbarous men could understand; and they shouted and screamed, and roared with laughter.

"Why, Loki, the mischief lover, was nothing to him." "Let him go free." "He ought to live," were heard on all sides. And even Arwald laughed, so that the tears ran down his face as the splendid joke dawned upon him.

And this is what had happened. When the executioner struck his stroke, Beornwulf, who had been carefully watching him, ducked his head with all his might, and with a sudden jerk. The eorl, whose hands were firmly twisted in his luxuriant hair, was naturally pulled down; the executioner could not stop his blow, even if he had had time to notice the stratagem, and the wretched eorl received the full force of the sweeping cut, with the result that both his hands were shorn off at the wrists.[1]

[1] The greater part of the above account of these executions is taken from Mallet's "Northern Antiquities," where the execution of the Jomsberg Rovers is extracted from various Scandinavian sources. I have inserted them here to give a really true picture of the wild, fierce, brave manners of that rude epoch. The episode of the Jomsberg Rovers is more than 200 years subsequent to the events here narrated.

The exquisiteness of this stratagem consisted not only in the mortification of the executioner, and the momentary saving of Beornwulf's life, but, above all in the disabling of one more of Beornwulf's enemies, for so it would count, according to all the received ideas; and thus at a moment, the most supreme in the life of a man, Beornwulf had contrived to add one more to the number of victims he would have for his own particular portion when he arrived in Valhalla, and his renown for wit would be very great.

But the executioner was furious at the trick that had been played upon him: he paid no heed to the shouts of the crowd, and, uttering a savage cry, he rushed upon Beornwulf. Some of the bystanders shouted to Beornwulf, to warn him of his danger, but it seemed nothing could save him, for the man was upon him: when, quick as lightning, Beornwulf flung himself prostrate upon the ground at the feet of his would-be murderer. The man heavy, blundering, and blinded by passion, fell over him, severing the cord with his axe as he fell; and instantly Beornwulf rose to his feet, seized the axe out of his hand, and dealt him a swinging death-blow.

Again shouts of applause arose, but this time they were not so unanimous, the _amour propre_ of the Wihtwaras was becoming hurt. Beornwulf was a West Saxon and a stranger; it was not right he should triumph thus over the islanders; it was time his conceit came to an end. Had he rested on his first success popular favour would have been with him, or had he simply managed to escape from the blow of the executioner; but the death of this latter, who was a well-known as well as a popular character at Wihtgaresbyryg, made many people angry, and especially Arwald; and he gave orders to have the West Saxon killed at once.

But Beornwulf's blood was up now. He held in his hand the axe; with a blow he cut the rope which attached the two other prisoners to the long row of prostrate dead bodies; he called to them to seize axes from the bystanders, and then rushed to where the other prisoners were standing; before the guards could interfere, he had cut down one of them, shouted to the prisoners to imitate him, and struck right and left at any who were near him. The whole thing was so sudden, the confusion and noise were so great, that many people did not know what was happening, while at the same time a great number of cattle which were being driven up for supplies, and were close behind the crowd, terrified at the hubbub, broke away from their drivers, and, with tails erect and lowered horns, rushed through the crowd, horning many and trampling on more. Arwald shouted, stormed, and raved; the leading eorls rushed in among the crowd and tried to restore some sort of order; but in such a fighting, struggling mass, confined between the building of the homestead, with plunging cattle, mad with terror, goring, trampling, rushing wildly here and there, with a desperate band of men, in whom the love of life was once more kindled, along with the hope of saving it, what could anyone do to restore order? The confusion could only cease with physical exhaustion. The noise was terrific.

Beornwulf cut his way towards the nearest opening in the buildings, followed by many of the prisoners. There was this advantage for them: they knew what they wanted and had a definite purpose, and were prompted by the most powerful impulse that could act on human beings when blindly yielding to the cry of nature. The instinct of self-preservation taught them where to go, which instinct, also acting upon their enemies, aided them in their efforts to escape. At last--how, scarcely any one could tell--Beornwulf and about twenty more found themselves outside the buildings with nothing before them but open country right down to the ford. With a wild rush they started for the creek, followed by very few of Arwald's men. The confusion, now that it was relieved of a considerable part of its cause, gradually quieted down, and then Arwald was able to see that nearly all his prisoners had escaped; heaping terrific abuse upon the guards who had allowed them to get away, he ordered his horse to be brought, and all who could to follow him.

The fugitives had strained every nerve to get a good start and were rapidly rearing the ford, but they had had no food and were exhausted; gallantly they ran, but it was quite clear that some of them must be caught again. Panting, gasping, Beornwulf reached the ford, the tide was fortunately down and he dashed through it, followed closely by several others; they had scarcely reached the banks on the other side, when a wild cheer welcomed them, and Ceolwulf, with Wulfstan and a large force of boys sprang up and greeted them. Arwald and his few followers seeing that all the fugitives had now got within shelter of the stones, whose disastrous effects still left a mark on his forehead, thought it more prudent to retire, and all the fugitives were therefore saved.

"Oh, Beornwulf, I am so glad!" cried Wulfstan, as they all stood on the top of the bank and saw Arwald sullenly rein in his horse and give the order to return.

"Let's give him a parting volley. I do believe I could hit him," Wulfstan said, and swinging his sling round his head he sent a stone whizzing and humming through the air after Arwald, while all the band set up a derisive shout. Arwald was just turning round to shake his fist at them, when the stone struck his horse violently on the hind quarter, causing it to give a leap into the air. Arwald was pitched heavily forwards, and was nearly unseated; as it was he lost his stirrups, and had to clutch at the mane to keep himself from falling, while the horse galloped away towards the homestead, and in this undignified way the Wihtwara chieftain returned to his men.

Wulfstan and all the others shouted with mocking laughter, and then turned towards the stockade, their spirits considerably relieved at the safety of the fugitives, and at the unexpected addition to their little force.

One or two of the sharpest boys were left with Stuff to see how matters were going, and to watch the enemy, with strict orders to send up word of what was going on, and if any fresh attack seemed imminent.

"We did that fire well, didn't we, Beorney?" said Wulfstan, as they walked up to the stockade, passing the charred gorse on their right. "I heard Arwald say how nice our cooking smelt; he little thought how soon some of his men would feel the fire. I wish it had been the old fat knave himself."

*CHAPTER XX.*

*"'TIS TRUE WE ARE IN GREAT DANGER; THE
GREATER SHOULD OUR COURAGE BE."*

When Ceolwulf and the rescued party reached the stockade it was a little past noon; the breeze that had been gently blowing from the east began to show signs of going round with the sun, for the weather was very fine. This fickleness of the wind was noted by Ceolwulf with a discontented grunt, for it was quite clear that any reinforcements that Caedwalla might send would be delayed by a westerly or south-westerly wind.

"Dost thou think Wulf the Atheling reached Selsea?" asked Wulfstan for about the hundredth time, and Ceolwulf, who was already grumpy enough at the prospect of the change in the wind, was exasperated at the persistency of his young lord.

"How can I tell thee? Why dost thou weary me so with such foolish questions? Thou wilt know fast enough when thou seest any boats coming," and with this answer Wulfstan had to be content, until, in a moment of thoughtlessness, he should ask the same question again in the course of a few more minutes.

"I tell thee what it is, Biggun!" said Beornwulf, "I shall not be sorry for a bit of food; so if thou hast got any hereabouts let me see it."

"All right, man. Thou shalt have it soon enough," replied Ceolwulf, leading the way into the now completed stockade.

Beornwulf was surprised to see how well everything had been done. The area inside had been made very much larger; unfortunately, now that all their fighting men were nearly exterminated, almost too large for the little force who could defend it. Stores of food were piled up at the sides, and boards laid on the top of these, to act as platforms; logs were rolled against the only entrance, and shelters made for the defending force against missiles. AElfhere and Malachi had been taken away, and were carefully concealed in a very impervious and wild part of the country, known only to a few of the most adventurous of the inhabitants, and it was intended to try to mislead Arwald into thinking that all the household servants, dependents, and belongings of AElfhere were assembled inside the stockade, and to carry out this impression a few cattle had been kept inside, carefully penned up. All the trees that in any way commanded a view into the interior of the little fortification were cleared away, and a path down to the spring of water was defended by stout palings. Altogether, everything that prudence, foresight, and energy could do to render their position secure had been done: the only thing wanted to crown the preparations was a suitable number of defenders, and this it was now impossible to obtain. The midday meal had been postponed until Ceolwulf returned, and they all sat down inside the stockade, and made an excellent dinner. Free, careless, and in the enjoyment of the most perfect health, the majority of the men, like thoughtless children, forgot the danger they had passed, or the almost certain death that awaited them, in the animal pleasure of the moment, and, like the Homeric heroes, they sat eating much flesh, and quaffing home-brewed beer, in most absolute and unconcerned satisfaction.

All listened to Beornwulf's account of what had gone on at the homestead, and there was a disapproving grunt from all when they heard how narrowly Arwald had missed being killed by Athelhune's knife, but the applause was great as they heard how nobly the West Saxon eorldoman had met his death. But when Beornwulf came to his own part in the tragedy the rejoicing was tumultuous. The recital of these stirring deeds, and the example of stern, enduring indifference to death, had an excellent effect upon the men, and when dinner was over they all felt equal to any number of enemies. Indeed, so carried away were they all, that many openly said it was too much like women to stay behind wooden walls; they ought to sally out into the open; they could easily defeat such a miserable lot as the followers of Arwald, and among these was Wulfstan, who was overjoyed at the successes that had crowned his part in the fray hitherto. Although they could not help being depressed at the loss of all their fighting men in the fatal slaughter down by the meadows near the Yare, yet they attributed this entirely to the gross mismanagement of Wulf the Atheling, and their subsequent diversion in harassing the enemy at the ford, and the final total rout and retreat of Arwald, had fully compensated in their eyes for their previous defeat. And now this last success, in which Arwald had been bearded in his own hall, as it were, crowned the whole, and not a man doubted but that they would not only hold their own until Caedwalla could send them reinforcements, but would totally annihilate Arwald by their own unaided valour.

Ceolwulf alone was not blinded by their successes; in fact he could not but see that unless help were to come to them soon they must all succumb to the enormous odds Arwald would bring against them. After all, what had they done? They had worried Arwald; they had driven him back by a most fortunate stratagem, but such as could not succeed again. They had rescued some twenty of their own men, who would never have had to be rescued but for the bad generalship of their leader; but they had lost more than seventy of their best men, and among them Athelhune and the Atheling Wulf. They had put off the evil day for a few hours, that was all--a great deal if they could see any help coming; but at best no help was likely to come for another twenty-four hours.

Anxiously Ceolwulf looked at the clouds, the wind was getting more and more to the west, but it might go back again at nightfall. But how could they hope to hold out if once Arwald attacked in earnest? There was one hope. Arwald did not show any signs of moving yet; at least, no news had come from the outposts, and it was now getting on well into the afternoon. Perhaps his reinforcements had not come up, or he might intend a night attack.

The force left to defend the stockade amounted to not more than a hundred men. There was a large number of boys, but they could be of little use in a hand-to-hand encounter, and Ceolwulf turned it over in his mind whether it would not be better to leave them outside under Wulfstan; they had shown such talents for annoying the enemy without themselves receiving any damage, and they were so perfectly at home in the intricate paths and rough tracks, over the hills and through the woods, that he thought it would be wisest to send them outside, they might thus escape the destruction which was sure to await those in the stockade, and might create a useful diversion by stoning the enemy from the cover of the woods, for in running they could outstrip most men, and knew the land well.

Full of these anxious thoughts Ceolwulf had been meditatively leaning, with his head on his hands looking dreamily over the parapet of the stockade. The stockade from this point commanded a view, through a gap in the trees, where the land fell abruptly to a wooded dell below, of the distant sea to the east of the island, and consequently towards Selsea. The sun was getting low in the heavens, but his rays were still bright; and the light shone full on the far-distant line of downs beyond Cissanceaster. Ceolwulf had been gazing vaguely in this direction for some time, in the see-nothing sort of way in which men look intently at objects without in the least grasping their reality.

"Why, Biggun, old man," called Beornwulf, who, now that he was thoroughly rested, and had had a good dinner, felt equal to anything, "What art thou looking so hard for? that is not where Arwald will come from;" and, as he spoke, he got up on to the platform by his side, but not looking in the same direction as Ceolwulf. Glancing up at the sky, he said, "I think the breeze is drawing more from the north again. We can't make another beacon fire for Arwald, can we?" Then he turned round and looked out towards the sea, and in another second shouted, "There's a fleet coming this way! Look at that dark patch on the water, half-way between Selsea and us."

Ceolwulf looked, and instantly perceived that he had been gazing at this object for some time, but had never given it a thought.

There was no doubt about it. That dark patch, with here and there a brighter speck in the midst of it, was a flotilla, and the brighter specks were sails.

It was Caedwalla coming to save them.

But would he--could he arrive in time? Other eyes must have seen the flotilla too. Arwald would never allow the invaders to land without crushing the rebels first; and the flotilla could not, under the most favourable circumstances, reach Braedynge haven before two or three hours, and then they would have to disembark and march three miles before they could help them; and in four hours there might not be a man alive in the stockade.

At this moment Stuff rushed up, shouting that Arwald had crossed the Yare with more men than ever, and was advancing upon the stockade.

"Well, then, that puts an end to all my doubts," said Ceolwulf. "Wulf, do thou take the boys outside. Thou art a sharp lad. Send two or three down to the point at the entrance to the haven. Tell them to light a fire there, and as soon as they can, let them tell Caedwalla where we are, and bid him hasten to our help. Anyhow," muttered Ceolwulf, "he will avenge us on Arwald, and the eorldoman AElfhere will be saved, and the boy too. If that happens, what matters it what becomes of an old man like me?"

So saying, the old Wihtwara got down off the platform and prepared to give the final directions before the last decisive struggle began. It was now about an hour before sunset. Why Arwald had not attacked sooner he could not understand; and he argued that he would not have attacked now had he not seen the flotilla, from which he concluded that all the reinforcements had not reached him, or that there had been some accident. Ceolwulf directed Wulfstan to go outside at once, bidding him be sure to do nothing rashly, but make his way down to the shore, and, above all things, keep out of Arwald's way.

The boy took an affectionate leave of Biggun, but secretly resolved he would have a shot at Arwald before he retreated; and he was not sorry to have an opportunity of distinguishing himself without Ceolwulf's guidance and direction. He had every confidence in himself, indeed too much so, and was already turning over a deep scheme by which he might lead Arwald into destruction. When he got outside the stockade, therefore, he called Stuff to him, and the two boys entered into an earnest conversation, at the end of which Stuff, with a look of great and complacent cunning, and much mysterious importance, disappeared in the woods, while Wulfstan led the band of boys away towards the Braedynge haven side of the hill.

After they had gone about half a mile they came to a marshy piece of waste land, surrounded on two sides with steep hillocks and high thick gorse bushes. On the other side was a narrow strip of shingly beach, for it was close to the haven, and at the farther end was a dense wood. Wulfstan told the boys to lie concealed behind the bushes, and when he whistled they were to spring up and riddle the enemy with stones, and then rush away into the wood at the other end, and thence return towards the stockade, to give such aid as they could to Ceolwulf.

Stuff had been told by Wulfstan to let himself be caught by Arwald's men, who had been trying to capture some one to act as guide to where the rest of AElfhere's party had hidden themselves. It was the accidental overhearing of the conversation between some of Arwald's eorls that first put the idea into Stuff's head; and he had suggested it to Wulfstan, who grasped at the scheme with joy. All went as they wished, Stuff allowed himself to be seen by one of the flanking party of Arwald's force. He pretended to run away, stumbled, and was caught. He made sufficient resistance to make his captor think that he was a desperate youngster, mad at being captured. Indeed, he acted his part so well that he got a very hard knock on the head to keep him quiet. He was brought up before Arwald, who, with many vituperations, ordered him to show them the way to AElfhere. Stuff at first sullenly declared he didn't know it; then on being threatened with the most awful tortures if he didn't at once tell, he pretended to be overcome with terror, and said he did know. He was then ordered to lead the way at once, whereupon he implored them not to make him show them, "For," said he, "they will kill me if they see me." His terror seemed so real that one of the eorls said he might walk by his side, and he would protect him. Having at last very sullenly consented, he led them towards the spot where Wulfstan was in ambush, and which also seemed to Arwald to be in the right direction, as he had smelt the smell of cooking coming from the left hand when he advanced last night. Everybody was the more convinced that the boy was leading them right, because of his manifest reluctance to give the information, and because of his obvious terror. They little knew what a depth of cunning lay beneath that dull, stolid, cowed-looking exterior.

As they advanced towards the morass, the horses sank deeper into the soft spongy ground, and many of the eorls got off to walk in order to save their horses. Arwald, remembering the catastrophe of the night before, and, determining not to be so caught again, sent a strong body of men to scour the higher ground, directing them to push on some way to their right; and Stuff, seeing this, and knowing that they must come upon the stockade if they went on in that direction, muttered in a tone of satisfaction to himself, but loud enough for the eorl to hear:

"An' they go that way they'll get stuck in the mire, and on being interrogated by the eorl, he looked up in a startled way, and pretended he had not said anything. But the eorl was not going to be put off, and insisted on knowing what he meant, whereupon with much reluctance the boy said there were pitfalls and swamps up there. When Arwald was told this, he was about to give the order for the men to fall back, when a shout from one of the advance guard told him that something had been seen.

While the attention of everybody was directed to the point from which the man shouted, Stuff took the opportunity to duck under the belly of the eorl's horse and escape into a thick clump of furze, or gorse, where he lay hid, but listening eagerly for what was going to follow. He heard Arwald shout for the man to come and tell him what he had seen; and he heard the scout report that he had seen a clearing in the forest, and the palings of a well-built stockade; but whilst they were talking the sound of a rustling near him, made him lie very close. The next moment he saw Wulfstan crawl into the clump followed by a dozen boys. Stuff gave a low whistle which caused Wulfstan to pause. "Stuff, is that thou?" he whispered cautiously. "Ay, it's me sure enough," replied the boy in the same cautious tone.

"What's up, Stuff? Why don't they go on?" whispered Wulfstan.

"They've seen the stockade, and are going to attack it."

At this moment they could hear the eorl who had undertaken to look after Stuff exclaim with surprise that the boy had gone--and several men began beating the bushes round. This was getting too close; so Wulfstan and all of them begun to crawl back into thicker and more distant cover, when suddenly one of the men who was beating the bushes caught sight of them and instantly uttered a view halloo. "Gone away; gone away," he shouted, dashing after the boys who now that they were seen rose to their feet and darted off, scattering in different directions. Wulfstan and Stuff, with some three or four more, kept together, and made for the thickest part of the wood to the north of the stockade hoping to be able to baffle their pursuers, double round behind them, and then follow them up, and perhaps catch them at a disadvantage somewhere, and so do them some damage.

Three men on horseback, and about half-a-dozen footmen, had started after Wulfstan, while others had gone after the rest of the boys, for Arwald's force was now so numerous, that he could easily afford to send off parties to scour the country, while he, with the main body, could advance to the attack on the stockade, whose existence he now for the first time learnt; and thus a very great danger arose lest the rest of the women and children, who were encamped right away at the south-east extremity of Binbrygge, should be discovered and all be made prisoners.

Arwald, naturally concluding from the impracticable nature of the ground, and the accidental discovery of the stockade so far on his right, as well as from the disappearance of the captive guide, that they were being led into an ambush, gave the order for all the force, with the exception of the small bodies sent in pursuit of the boys, to advance upon the stockade.

The cavalry, led by Arwald, marched across the outskirts of the burnt common, the scene of their rout and disgrace the evening before, while the footmen pushed into the woods on either side.

"By Freya's golden hair," said Arwald, as he came in sight of the steep knoll, on the top of which was the stockade, "but these knaves have chosen a good position. We must carry this place quickly, or we shall have more to deal with than we know how." And he looked up anxiously at the sky.

The breeze was clearly fresher, and what was worse was blowing from the north-east. The sun was going down fast.

"Come, my men, there's no time to be lost. There are enough of us here to make an end of these cripples without much difficulty. Begin the assault."

The various eorls were at the head of their separate bands, and dismounting, as Arwald did, they led their men into the wood, leaving the horses outside under a guard. The attacking force was so powerful that there were enough men to assault the stockade all round. And Arwald trusted to a combined rush to carry the place. The palisades were about nine feet high, in some places higher; it was, therefore, no easy matter to get over, but the leaders ordered their men to cut down trees from the wood outside, and make a sloping approach to the palisades. The sharp noise of axes felling trees, resounded on all sides for the next quarter of an hour or more, and then crash, crack, swish, came the trees to the ground, and again the busy axes were plied, lopping off the limbs and trimming the trunks. As soon as the trees were ready, they were carried up to the stockade and rolled, or placed, at the foot of it, and here the service became dangerous, for the defenders were naturally not idle. They had pierced holes in the stockade, and putting their spears through, they tried to stab their assailants as they came near, while others leant over the top of the palisades and struck down at the men engaged in putting the timber in its place. They had very few missile weapons, and could therefore do little to annoy the enemy at a distance, and were compelled to await the completion of the preparations for the assault in enforced idleness. Ceolwulf had distributed his men to the best advantage, mingling the young with the old, in the way most likely to benefit both, and all were ready for the final death struggle. Few words were spoken on either side, while the placing of the logs outside went on rapidly. The thickest trees were first rolled up and then the ends of the next set of logs were placed on these, crosswise, with the other end on the ground; and in this way a rough, sloping, approach was made up to the stockade. Where one set of trees was not enough another log was rolled up on the cross ones, which were at right angles to the palisade, and these were wedged up so as to make them more secure. The stockade was approached by about twenty different sloping stages on all sides, but as they did not touch each other, there were intervening spaces which were not open to attack, thus the defenders were able to concentrate all their efforts on the spots which were most threatened.

Arwald, seeing that all the preparations were now completed, gave the signal for the assault to begin. With a shout of defiance and anticipated victory the Wihtwaras threw themselves upon the stages and rushed to the attack. Axes gleamed on all sides, and crowds of men pressed close behind each other. The front ranks tried to clamber over the palisade, and were sternly met by the desperate defenders. Such of the enemy as tried to get over, lost hands or arms from the quick blows of the watchful adherents of AElfhere, and all the horrors of previous assaults were repeated over again with the same dreadful monotony. There was the same desperate valour in assailing, as in defending, and victory inclined to neither side decidedly as yet. But it was clear that the defence could not last long. Already many of Ceolwulf's party had received terrible wounds, although none had been killed outright; but they had inflicted much loss on their foe, who had hitherto failed to effect an entrance. But there was no cessation of the assault; as fast as the front rank succumbed there were others to take their places, pressing with furious ardour to annihilate the little band inside, for all Arwald's followers knew of the invasion with which they were threatened, and were keenly alive to the importance of sweeping away these few antagonists first.

Ceolwulf looked anxiously at the sky. The sun had just set, and the breeze came cool and keen from the north-east. Could there be any chance of their holding out another hour? He thought not. "Never mind," he kept saying to himself, "I have done all that could be done, all my lords are safe; and, anyway, I should not live for many more years. Better die now than live to be old and useless. But," he added, savagely chopping at a sturdy Wihtwara, who was boldly putting his leg over the stockade, "thou shalt not send me to Nifleheim, young man," and the luckless foeman fell back with a leg the less, to bleed to death outside the stockade; but there were many more to take his place, and weary work it was fighting against time, and hope, and terrible odds.

Arwald had given orders to break down the palisade that led to the spring, and a desperate fight was taking place here. The Wihtwaras had broken in, and were pushing back the defenders, but the narrow way got blocked with wounded and dead, and the assailants paused a moment to clear away the bodies which impeded them. Ceolwulf, seeing the lull, shouted to his men to leave the passage and pile up some logs that were inside, so as to close the entrance, but it was too late. The enemy dashed in, and a hand-to-hand fight took place in the narrow space inside the stockade. Beornwulf, seeing all was over, determined not to die cooped up in that shambles. He shouted to Ceolwulf to leap over the stockade, and cut their way into the woods. It was a hopeless and desperate venture, but Beornwulf had already escaped certain death once that day, and he believed he could not die for the next twenty-four hours, at least.[1] Behind them, inside, a fearful murder was going on; before them was at least a chance of life, at any rate, no worse death. Springing over the stockade, therefore, Ceolwulf and Beornwulf, with four or five more, dropped down into the interval between the raised stages that were crowded with the enemy pressing up to take their part in the awful scene going on inside. Armed and clothed like the other Wihtwaras, they were not recognised as the very men the followers of Arwald had come to slay, and they were able to push through the lines of assailants, who thought they were only some of the numerous men who had got pushed over the edge of the stages by the pressure from behind, and were returning to take up their places on the stages again to renew the assault, and some even jeered at them as clumsy fellows who had had to make room for their betters, while others openly laughed at them as cowards who were not sorry to get out of the way of the enemy.

[1] It was a popular superstition, and is still, that if a man escaped imminent death or had a man killed alongside of him, he could not be killed that day--_vide_ Prosper Merimee, "L'en lelvement de la Redoute."

"Thou art right there, my friend," said Ceolwulf, who, being a Wihtwara himself, ran no risk of his dialect betraying him. "But it will want someone to bury yon men, and so I intend stopping behind."

"Dost thou, though, my shirking knave," cried Arwald, who had taken no part in the assault himself, but waited outside to watch the attack, and encourage, or reprimand, his men. "Do thou go back at once, and don't let me---- Ah! By Woden, but thou art a bigger scoundrel----"

He did not finish his sentence, for Beornwulf and Biggun made a rush for him, overjoyed at the opportunity of revenging all their wrongs on the chieftain himself.

*CHAPTER XXI.*

*"LET US DIE IN HONOUR; ONCE MORE BACK AGAIN."*

Arwald, seeing the determined rush made upon him by Beornwulf and Biggun, reined in his horse, swung it round, and, striking his heels into the animal's side, caused it to leap past the two desperate men. As Arwald did so, he called out to the men nearest him to fall upon the traitors, for so at first he took them to be; but, seeing the woods before them, neither Beornwulf nor Biggun waited to have another attempt at Arwald. The instinct of life urged them on, and they dashed into the woods unmolested.

"There's some death the Norns are keeping for that knave," said Ceolwulf, as soon as he and Beornwulf found themselves at a sufficient distance to relax their speed. "He has always escaped hitherto, but let him look out, his time has nearly come now."

"Are we going right for the shore?"

"It's not far off, and Caedwalla ought to have reached it by now; but, hist! who's coming this way?"

They crouched down. A few horsemen and footmen were approaching through the wood, evidently guiding their course by the sounds that proceeded from the stockade, where the work of death was very nearly over. The troop now drawing near might be the advanced guard of their deliverers. This was almost too good to be hoped for; or it might be some of the raiders of Arwald's party; anyway, Beornwulf and Biggun had better lie still.

As the first horseman came up he was saying to the nearest footman who was walking by his side that they ought to make more haste or they would get none of the booty; and, besides, the news they had to bring was very important.

"I wish I knew what that news was," muttered Ceolwulf.

"Why, what have they got hanging down over the horses shoulders in front of him?" said Beornwulf whose sight was keener than his old companion's. "It's a body, I do believe, and the body of a boy, too."

Ceolwulf peered out between the dry leaves, and the next moment, without a second's reflection, flung himself out of the bushes, and rushed with a wild cry of rage straight at the horseman, oversetting the nearest footman in his rush. With one hand he seized the bridle of the horse, and with the other he struck the rider a tremendous blow on the arm, and before the man, taken utterly by surprise, could strike a blow in his own defence, Ceolwulf struck him again, and this time with a deep groan the man fell heavily from the saddle and dropped to the ground.

Beornwulf seeing the danger his old comrade was in rushed out after him, and began laying about him manfully, but the odds were against them; however, Biggun with great presence of mind jumped into the saddle, from which he had just ousted the owner, and, turning the horse's head, galloped back towards where they had come from, shouting to Beornwulf to follow him. The attention of the men was taken up in trying to stop Ceolwulf, or it would have gone hardly with the West Saxon; as it was, he was enabled to dash back into the wood again, and so escaped the notice of the enemy. Ceolwulf urged his horse at the utmost to escape from his pursuers, but the horse was heavily weighted with the double burden; however, for the first few minutes it managed to increase the slight start obtained by the unexpected rapidity of Ceolwulf's movements; gradually, however, it became clear to Ceolwulf that he must be captured, in spite all his efforts, and he did not know what to do.

The reason of this desperate onslaught was that he saw there hanging over the horse's shoulders his young lord Wulfstan; whether he were dead or not he could not tell, but he hoped, as they were taking the trouble to bring him into camp, that he was still alive, and on the wild hope of rescuing him, old Biggun had staked his life; and now, after all, with help so near at hand, it seemed as though both must lose their lives.

"Beornwulf," the old man shouted, "catch this horse when I get off it, and ride like the wind towards yonder copse," but no answer came, and Ceolwulf felt it was all over with both of them. Still he urged on the horse, every stride was bringing them nearer safety, but the horsemen behind were close upon him. Ceolwulf turned round, there was only one man quite close, and he was some distance from the others. Could not he manage to disable this man? The Wihtwara gradually drew nearer, his axe was uplifted, the weapon seemed over Ceolwulf's head, crash it came down, and with it the Wihtwara rolling on the ground, the blow had missed Ceolwulf, but what had knocked the man down? Ceolwulf had struck no blow, he was far too intent in pressing on his horse, and for the moment concluded the man's horse had stumbled on the rough ground; it was not until afterwards that he learnt how he had been saved. Without pausing a moment, Biggun rode steadily on; the fallen horseman caused the rest of the pursuers to stop where he fell, and one of them dismounting, went up to the man; turning the body over, he found that one eye was knocked out, and that the man was dead. Whether this was the result of the fall or not could not be told; but the man remounted his horse, and they then gave up the chase and returned to Arwald.

Meanwhile Ceolwulf continued his course towards the shore. The evening was changing into night; as he emerged from a dense part of the wood he suddenly came upon a brilliant blaze of light, and knew that his orders had been carried out. Riding up to the fire he found a crowd of boys assembled round it, and he was not long in learning the news. Caedwalla was within a mile of the land, and might disembark in less than half an hour. But why did not Arwald come down to meet him? He might do so yet; in any case, Ceolwulf could not longer delay attending to his young lord. Tenderly the boyish figure was lifted off the horse, and gently he was laid down by the fire. He lay quite still, only blood welled up in a deep cut on his head, and all could see that he was desperately wounded.

"Oh! my young master!" cried Ceolwulf, "Why could not I have received this instead of thee? How shall I meet my lord AElfhere? Ah! Biggun, thou art a dolt and a dotard to have allowed him to go from thee."

And then he enquired of the boys around how it had happened. Several of the boys had seen it all, but could do nothing to save their young lord; at least so they said, but Ceolwulf would not believe them, and heaped maledictions on them for their cowardice and want of devotion to their lord. It appeared that Wulfstan, while running away, saw one of his companions fall, and the noble boy knowing that he would be killed, stopped and fitted a stone to the sling preparatory to casting it at the first man of the enemy who should approach the disabled boy. While he was doing this and was totally careless of his own safety, a Wihtwara on horseback, the same whom Ceolwulf had killed, broke through the bushes behind Wulfstan and fetching him a blow with his axe knocked him down, and then dismounting, put him on his horse as Ceolwulf had found him.

"If ye boys had had a quarter of your young lord's pluck ye would never have let him be hurt, much less taken. Could none of ye have tried to save the boy who fell, instead of letting your young lord do it? And could none of ye have got in the way of the knave who gave him this wound? Ah! I am ashamed of ye all! Ye are a set of cowardly do-nothings; and what a chance ye have let slip; it doesn't happen to a boy every day; no, nor once in a year in these more peaceful times--it's true we have had a little more life lately--(by which Ceolwulf meant death)--for a boy, I say, to have the good luck to get killed for his lord, and here with this chance before ye, not one of ye had the sense or the gratitude to take it. Ugh! get along with ye all for a pack of skulking foxes."

The upbraidings of Ceolwulf caused many of the boys to hang their heads, and several reproached themselves for not having got killed instead of Wulfstan. However, there was no help for it now, and all stood round looking at the pale and noble features of the senseless boy. His fair hair fell back round his face in waving locks, his eyes were shut, and the pallor of his cheeks, usually so full of colour and health, was very ominous. Ceolwulf raised his head on his knee and bandaged the cut as well as he could, telling the boys to get him some salt water from the sea.

"Shall I go and find old Deva and the bald-headed man?" suggested one of the boys.

"Ay, my son, that's the best thing thou canst do, and the sooner thou bringest them the better, for we shall have work enough to occupy us all soon. Which of ye knows the way?"

"I do," and "I do," resounded from all sides, and Ceolwulf chose the sharpest-looking of the lads, and sent off three of them, telling them to inform Malachi, or "the bald-headed one," of what had happened, but on no account to alarm AElfhere, the eorldoman.

Away the boys darted, and were soon lost in the darkness. Ceolwulf continued to bathe the wound, watching anxiously for some return of consciousness; but the heavy lids remained shut, and the breathing seemed to grow weaker.

"Ah! Wulfstan, my dear young lord, hadst thou only stayed at Boseham with AEdric all would have been well. To think of the fights I have been through and my life worth nothing, and this boy, the joy of his father, and born to be an eorl and Heretoga, if ever there was one, to die before he is twelve years old!" and old Ceolwulf groaned bitterly. "How beautiful the lad is!" he went on. "Surely neither Baldur, nor Woden, nor Thor, could have looked handsomer; but Baldur died. Ah! yes, beauty is what death loves, and so Baldur died young."

While Ceolwulf was thus mourning over Wulfstan he forgot all about surrounding objects, and was suddenly startled into consciousness of this world and the present by a boy running up to him and saying, breathlessly:

"Master Biggun, here's some boats come ashore at yonder point, and there's a sight of people getting out."

"Why, whatever am I doing? I'm forgetting everything. Here, one of ye boys, run down and show the people the best way up; ask them, for some one will show thee--no, that won't do. Tell the first man thou seest that old Ceolwulf, who fought at Cissanceaster along with Caedwalla, is here, and wants help. Now, off with thee; what art thou waiting for?"

"But, maybe, they mayn't be friends; how do I know they won't hurt me?"

"By Thor's hammer but what are we coming to? These boys daren't get killed for their lord, and now they are frightened of their own friends! Get along with thee directly, and do what thou art told, or it will be the worse for thee."

The boy went off not much reassured, and intending fully to disobey Ceolwulf as soon as he got out of sight; but he had scarcely gone three steps into the darkness when he felt his arm seized, and a deep voice in a very different dialect to his own, but still such as he could understand well enough, say:

"Not so fast, youngster; tell us who they are round this fire, and why it is lighted?"

Paralysed with terror, the boy could not answer for a moment, but seeing the gleam of sharp steel as his captor held up a long knife before him, he called out:

"Oh, don't kill me! I was sent by old Ceolwulf, who did something somewhere, to find somebody--I can't remember who--and there he is sitting by the fire; and if thou wert to kill me I couldn't tell thee any more, indeed I couldn't, so please don't do it."

Recognizing the truth of the last statement, the man put his knife away, and called to some men behind. These now came up, and the boy saw a large body of tall, powerful, well-armed men, most of them in the prime of life. Among them he noticed a magnificent man, taller than any of the others, and with a helmet surmounted by a golden dragon. The light of the fire flashed upon his close-fitting shirt of mail, on his sword and battle-axe, and shone in his bright, clear eyes.

"Did I hear the name of Ceolwulf?" he asked, eagerly. "Where is the fine old man? Lead me at once to him, my boy; no harm shall happen to thee if thou wilt tell the truth and do what thou art told."

The boy pointed to where Ceolwulf was sitting, hidden by the fire being between them, and the dragon-crested warrior, closely followed by a younger figure, hastened to greet him. The next moment a cry of joy and grief rang out as the younger figure, in spite of his lameness, outran the chieftain.

"Oh! Wulfy, my dear brother Wulf, to think I should find thee like this;" and AEdric knelt down by Ceolwulf and burst into tears, sobbing bitterly as he took his brother's hand in his.

"What! Ceolwulf, my fine youth," said Caedwalla. "This is a bad business; the brave little lad is not dead, is he? Let me look at him." So saying, the kind-hearted king bent down and took the other limp hand, while he listened for his breathing. After a minute he rose and said, "He's not dead, but he wants attention; have ye no women near who can look after him?"

"I have sent, my lord, for help, and it ought soon to be here," answered Ceolwulf, sadly.

"Well, I can't be of any use, and I won't take thee away from the boy. While the rest of my men are coming ashore--By the way," broke off Caedwalla, "see that the boats are taken to a place of safety for the night. Thou canst send some of thy people to help us in this, canst thou not?" he added, turning to Ceolwulf.

"Our people are all slain," replied Biggun sadly.

"What! no one left? Has it gone so hardly with thee as all that?"

"There are none but women and children and feeble old men. All our bravest youth died with Wulf the Atheling, or were killed in cold blood by Arwald, or were slaughtered but now on yonder hill."

"Where are Athelhune, and Osborn, and Beornwulf, and the three that came with my brother Wulf?"

"All are dead for ought I know. Athelhune perished, slain by Arwald; Beornwulf may have escaped. Osborn and the others died an hour or so ago, on yonder hill."

Caedwalla's handsome features had gradually assumed a fierce expression; a wild, stern light shone in his eyes, and a tightening of his hand over his axe told of the storm within.

"By Woden's beard," he burst forth, "by all the joys of Valhalla, I swear to avenge their blood! Not unhonoured shall they be in the abodes above, or wherever the soul of man goeth. Before I leave this island, I vow to kill all of the race of Arwald that cometh in my way, be it man or woman or sucking child; for not in fair fight were they slain. Oh! Athelhune, my comrade, my right hand, my more than friend, why was I not here to save thee? But I am here to avenge thee, and right well shalt thou be avenged."