Chapter II: Part 2

Corman sat silently by his side, fearing to move, lest he should disturb him.

Presently Dicoll and Malachi came in, and they began the morning service, but in low tones; while outside the door of the hut a few women and children stood round to listen.

The inherent reverence of the Teutonic nature showed itself strongly in these rude, suffering, untaught South Saxons, and the monks already saw promise of future good.

By the welcome aid of healing arts they had gradually obtained a hold on the little settlement; and as their practical sympathy with physical suffering found ready scope in their power to deal with it, so the purity of their worship attracted the gentler natures of the more reflecting among the people.

The religion of the South Saxons, like that of all the Teutonic tribes, was calculated to promote reverence, and was yet so vague in its teaching as to oppose but slight obstacles to the approaches of Christianity. Their deities were the elements, and, like the Greeks, they worshipped a divinity in every object of nature. Rude temples they seem to have had, which, as in the story of Coifi, appear to have had but little hold on the people; and as there were no material advantages at stake, so the opposition offered to the Christian missionary was much less envenomed than is usually the case where vested interests are at hazard.

Indeed, the Christian missionaries found, in one very important particular, a decided gain in dealing with the Teutonic peoples as compared with the Christian but Romance nations. The sanctity of domestic life contrasted strongly with the habits and customs of the laxer peoples of the South, habituated to vice in all its forms, and among whom the pursuit of pleasure had become almost a science as well as a passion.

The spirit of scoffing, of ridicule, was absent. Such a spirit seems inconsistent with the gloom of the vast primeval forest, of the solitudes of the hunter, and the earnestness produced by the stern fight for existence. Luxury, laziness, the energy of the body directed to the amusement of a debased intellect, and an intellect pandering to the unwholesome passions of the body, all these were absent, and the Christian missionaries found themselves confronted with an almost primitive state of life.

*CHAPTER III.*

*"UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE."*

Ceolwulf and Wulfstan, after leaving the hut of the kind monks, went first to look to the boat, and moored her securely. Then they walked into the thick wood, which was immediately behind the little settlement, and which stretched without intermission right up to the great Andredesweald. There were occasional clearings here and there, especially to the east of Boseham towards Cissanceaster, but owing to the dreadful drought and consequent famine, and demoralisation of the inhabitants resulting from it, most of these clearings had relapsed into a wilderness again.

They had not gone far when Biggun remarked that they had better take a look at the sun, and see how they were to find their way back again; and while he was taking a careful look round Wulfstan noticed a rustling noise amongst the dry leaves on his right, and directly afterwards an old pig and several little ones came grunting through the wood followed by a miserable, unhealthy-looking boy, who instantly stopped on seeing the two strangers, and stared at them with suspicion.

"Whose pigs are those?" said Biggun.

The young swineherd only stared at him the more, and especially eyed Wulfstan with curiosity, as though such a healthy-looking boy were quite surprising. At last, on the question being repeated two or three times, he shook his head to intimate that he did not understand.

"Come along, Wulf, we've no time to lose; let us go down this glade and keep thy spear ready. That boy is a Weala."

They now reached a long and natural glade in the forest, and as they got farther away from the sea the trees grew larger and straighter, and the view under the branches was more extended, being only interrupted by clumps of brushwood here and there. There was no sign of any road or track whatever, only the vast forest stretched in endless solitude to right and left, and as far ahead as the eye could see.

Wulfstan was delighted with the size of the forest, and eagerly looked on each side for the chance of some game appearing. They had now walked about four miles from Boseham, and were going in a north-westerly direction, when a gleam through the trees ahead told them they were approaching some water, and in a few minutes more they had reached a long winding pool, or lake, from which a large heron rose slowly as they came out of the forest.

"Biggun, look! Take a shot at that heron! I can swim for him if he does drop in the water."

"He's too far off, Wulf; we must not waste our arrows. Wait till we get a sure mark; we shan't have to wait long. If this is salt water, animals won't come to drink, but I doubt not we shall find a fresh brook running into it farther on; and if we find the marks where the beasts come down to water, we can hide in the bushes, as we used to do at home, and then we shan't miss."

They had hardly gone three steps more when a large hare darted out of a thicket by the side of the water and ran into the wood; but Biggun was too quick for him, carefully watching as he passed behind a tree, the instant he appeared on the other side of it, an arrow whizzed from his bow and rolled the hare over on the ground.

"By Woden, Biggun, that was a good shot; thou timedst it well," cried Wulf admiringly, as he ran up to the hare and pulled the arrow out, carefully wiping the shaft and point, and smoothing the feathers; then taking the animal up by his hind legs he hit it behind the neck to kill it, for it was not quite dead, then he ran back to Biggun and gave him his arrow again.

"Be still, my son, and hurry not, if thou wouldst hit anything," said Biggun complacently, as he put the arrow back in the quiver. They then went on again, Wulf carrying the hare and looking with sharp glances all round him. Presently they came to a very marshy place and had to leave the side of the water and enter the forest again. Skirting the marsh they came to a kind of track that led them to a deep pool which was trodden all round and was evidently a place where animals came down to water.

"We ought to come here to-night, Wulf, but we ought to come in a large gang, for here be marks we don't see in our island," said Biggun, stooping down and examining the "spoor" of the animals that frequented this place to quench their thirst.

"Hark, Biggun, there is something coming!" whispered Wulfstan, as a crackling of twigs was heard a little way off.

"Quick, Wulf, climb up that tree there; up with thee!" cried Biggun, as he hurried the boy hastily to a wide-spreading oak, whose large and low branching limbs stretched over the pool. In an instant Wulfstan was ensconced among the branches, and Biggun had handed him up his spear, and was just pulling himself up after him, when, with a crash and a squeal, a huge wild boar rushed through the brushwood, and charged at poor Biggun, who, old and stiff, was with difficulty getting up into the first low fork of the old tree.

"Oh, Biggun, get thy legs out of the way!" shrieked Wulfstan in terror, and without pausing a moment he hurled the boar spear he held right at the advancing beast. He threw it with such good aim that it struck the animal in the shoulder, and although it did not stop his charge, by reason of the wound it caused, it yet pulled the beast up by catching in one of the overhanging boughs, and the shaft being made of stout ash did not break, but widened the wound in the shoulder, and caused the poor animal to squeal aloud with pain. Biggun had now got his legs over the first branch, and, taking steady aim, he shot an arrow into the animal's eye. Such was the vitality and courage of the brute that, although it had the spear still sticking in its shoulder, and was pierced in one eye with an arrow, it yet charged home to the trunk of the tree, and buried its tusks in the bark. Then it stood looking round for its enemy, and grunting and squealing fiercely. Biggun drew another arrow up to its head, and the shaft went home to the boar's heart, and he fell over dead.

"Well, I think we have got enough game now, Wulf, for the monks and ourselves, and we had better make the best of our way home, and carry as much as we can of this beast with us," said Biggun, scrambling out of the tree again, followed by Wulfstan, who was very delighted at the death of the big animal, and greatly admired his formidable tusks and the thick crest of bristles which grew down his strong neck and shoulders.

Ceolwulf proceeded to cut up the body with his long hunting knife, and slinging the two hind quarters over his shoulders, and replacing the arrows in the quiver, they hung the rest of the quartered boar on the lowest bough of the oak that had saved their lives, and started to make their way home again.

Suddenly Ceolwulf pulled his young companion behind a tree, and then, before Wulf could ask him the reason, he had whispered to him to be perfectly still, as he saw some men a little way ahead of them. Very cautiously Biggun and Wulf crouched down, and crawled to the cover of some bushes that were near, and from this shelter they saw several men coming in their direction. They were all armed, and looked a strong and formidable body of men. There were about thirty or forty in all, and most wore iron helmets, and two or three had hawberks, or jackets of mail, like that which the young man wore whom they had met in the morning. Some carried stout spears, and others large clubs, with a heavy ball of metal attached by a short piece of chain to the head of the club, and studded with spikes. Most had shields of a round shape, and nearly all carried, in addition to the arms already mentioned, long swords and battle axes. The men who had not got jackets of mail wore leathern tunics, which appeared to be of double thickness over the chest and shoulders, and which were no doubt sufficiently tough to ward off a sword cut or spear thrust. Many of the men appeared to be quite young: none of them seemed over forty, and the youngest might have been between eighteen and twenty. They were a handsome and picturesque-looking set of men, with their bushy hair flowing out from under their helmets, their bronzed faces and martial appearance. Some wore close-cut beards, and some were shaved, with the exception of the "knightly fringe that clothed the upper lip," and Ceolwulf knew that they must be the body-guard of some powerful Thane or Eorldoman, and he crouched all the closer, for the times were very perilous. They did not seem to be in any hurry, for they sauntered along, talking among themselves, and appearing to be under no leadership. Suddenly one of them uttered a cry, and walked hastily to the tree where the remains of the wild boar were hanging, fresh and bleeding from the knife of Ceolwulf.

"Ah, they will track us by the drops of blood from the joints I have over my shoulders!" said Biggun. "Well, I must even drop them here, and perchance they won't find them," he added, with a sigh, as he unstrung the quarters, and hung them on a bough above him. He then took Wulfstan by the hand, and pulled him into the thickest of the bushes, and crouched down again. They could hear the men talking about the boar, and laughing at the unexpected piece of good luck they had fallen in with.

"This will just do," said one. "I was getting very hungry, and here we are where he told us to wait for him. Let us make a fire and roast some of these joints."

"That we will," cried another. "Here's water to drink and flesh to eat. What more do we want? Why the heroes in Valhalla can't have much more! This boar, I warrant, is every bit as good as Saehrimnir[1] the everlasting, and we can do for once without mead."

[1] The author has put into the mouths of the Saxons the mythological allusions of the Scandinavian sagas, thinking that probably the same tales were common to the Scandinavian and Jutland peninsula, as well as to the Saxons and Frisians.

"Aye, and we can cut our enemies to pieces after our dinner just as well as before; so waste no more time, but get some sticks and make a fire," rejoined a third.

"Well, thou canst begin making afire," said the man who had first seen the pieces of boar's flesh. "I shall follow this trail of blood, and see where they are who have killed the boar. They can't be far off, or the track wouldn't be so fresh, and they can't be many, or they wouldn't let us take their game so easily. But, after all, there's no knowing; these South Saxons, since the plague, have lost all heart."

Hearing these words, several others began to follow on the trail, and it was not long before they came to the bushes, where Ceolwulf and Wulfstan lay hid. A loud shout soon told that they had found the rest of the animal, and then they were apparently baffled. But not for long, for a keen-eyed man saw where a twig had recently been broken off, and then another where dead leaves had been trodden on and the damp side turned up, and in another moment Biggun and Wulfstan rose to their feet, face to face with a bronzed and powerful man peering through the bushes at them.

"Hark, here! So! so! my masters. Here's the game come to bay!" he cried merrily, and all the others broke through the bushes to get a view. Ceolwulf saw instantly it was no use showing fight, and he and Wulfstan came out and gave themselves up.

They were led to where the others were making a fire, and all crowded round to look at the captives.

"Well, and who are ye?" said the oldest-looking man.

Biggun had no idea who these men were, and after what he had heard from Father Dicoll about Edilwalch and his friendship for Arwald, he thought it better to conceal as long as possible who he was and where he came from.

"My name is Ceolwulf."

"Where dost come from?"

"From Boseham."

"Why, we know every one who lives in Boseham, and we never saw thee before, so that won't pass."

"Nevertheless I come from Boseham."

"Look here, old man, thou hadst better tell us at once all about thyself and the boy there, both for thy sake and his. We are not used to be trifled with, and thou art old enough to know what being made a spread eagle means."

Ceolwulf scratched his head and looked at Wulfstan, who, boy-like, could not see what there was to hide, for if they knew every one in Boseham they must know the kind monks who had so befriended them.

"Now, old man, be quick," said his questioner.

"Well, we come from Wihtea, over there, and have been in a good deal of trouble," said Ceolwulf, hoping to mollify his interrogator; "and when we got to Boseham we found some queer sort of men, who gave us some bread, and we thought we would go out and get something better to eat, for there seems no heart left in those South Saxons to help themselves."

"Thou art in the right there, my man. Since the yellow plague all spirit has gone out of them, and they care to do nothing now but die--which, after all, isn't so bad, if thou diest with thine axe in the skull of thine enemy, but any other way is disgraceful," from which remark it was clear that this man was a philosopher in his way, although somewhat crude in his ideas.

"And whose boy is this? He isn't thy son, I'll be bound. An old wooden head like thee couldn't have a son like that," said another man.

"Let me stand out there with my axe, and I'll soon show thee whether my head is any more wooden than thine, thou young Weala!"

"He has called me a Weala," cried the young man to the others. "He belongs to me to punish; let me have him out here, that I may split his old timber skull."

"No, no," said the older man. "We have got to have our dinner first, and, I think, as he has provided it, he ought to be asked to share it."

"But thou hast not told us who the boy is, old man."

"He is the son of a noble eorldoman in Wihtea."

"What, Arwald's son?" cried the man with eagerness.

"Now I wish I knew whether he wanted him to be his son or not," thought Ceolwulf. Then he added, "Dost thou know Arwald, then?"

"It is not thy business to ask me questions, but to answer mine, and take care thou doest it," said the man, sternly.

"No, he's not Arwald's son."

"All the better for him, then," muttered his interrogator.

But at this moment a most delicious smell of fragrant roast pork floated past their nostrils, and neither Biggun nor the man could avoid sniffing it admiringly.

"Well, we can ask thee these questions presently quite as well as now, and if we are not quick the others will have all the best bits. Now promise me thou wilt not attempt to escape, and I will let thee sit down and eat with us."

Biggun was very hungry, and so was Wulfstan, and they both promised at once, and then they all sat down, while three of the youngest were told to divide the joints and distribute them to the others.

It was a picturesque scene: the blue smoke from the fire curled up among the fast falling leaves of the great forest trees; beyond, fading into grey dimness, was the forest, while the sinking sun cast its warm rays aslant the stems of the trees, and turned the red bracken to golden sprays; the men lay about in careless attitudes, their flashing weapons gleaming in the setting sun, and above all were the ruddy leaves and great limbs of the wide-spreading oaks.

Merrily the talk went on, and coarse jest and practical joke made the echoes of the forest ring, until the noise reminded the man who had questioned Ceolwulf of the errand they were upon, and which apparently demanded some measure of secrecy, for he told four of the young men who had eaten enough to go some distance off and act as scouts, and he also tried to get the others to be a little less boisterous. Wulfstan enjoyed the whole feast immensely, and had won universal applause when old Ceolwulf told how he had speared the boar, and they all vowed he should be one of them, and should live to be a hero and do great deeds, to all which Wulfstan listened complacently; but at times he thought of AEdric, and longed to take him the hare, and he would have liked the good monks to have had some of that delicious boar, for he thought he never had tasted anything so good, as he held the end of a chop in his fingers and munched the juicy flesh. This was the fourth he had eaten, and he felt that the world was much more pleasant than it had been lately.

The others were now nearly satisfied, and little of the boar remained, which, fortunately for the happiness of the party, was a full grown animal, and in very good condition. As the men leant back with dreamy faces, and meditatively gave themselves up to the joys of tranquil digestion, there came a desire for amusement, and it occurred to the younger and more mischievous among them to think of the reproach cast by Biggun on the young man he had called a "Weala," which was regarded as an insult by the conquering Saxons.

"I say, Beornwulf, I wouldn't be called a Weala by that old red beard," said one, throwing a bone at the young man he addressed, which alighted on his hand just as he was putting a choice morsel into his mouth, and knocked the piece of flesh out of his hand on to the ground.

A loud and general burst of laughter greeted this practical joke, which did not add to the young man's good humour, and he, being of a fiery disposition, and so the very fittest subject for a practical joker, rose up in a rage and hurled the bone back at his aggressor, who, being prepared for it, ducked his head, and it passed harmlessly over him.

"There, Beorney, don't get angry. If thou wantest to fight, fight the old man there, and then, after he has thrashed thee, thou canst come and fight us. We shan't be afraid of thee then, but thou'rt too strong a man now, and aimest too straight."

"What is all this about, boys?" said the older man, who had been comfortably stretched on his back with Ceolwulf and Wulfstan on each side of him, placidly enjoying the pleasant reminiscences of that estimable boar. "What's all this about? Why can't ye enjoy the blessings the gods give ye without wanting to make a disturbance?"

"Beornwulf here wants to fight that old red beard we caught in the bushes, who called him a Weala."

"Well, and Beornwulf called him a wooden head first, so I think they are quits."

"Let them fight, Athelhune. We've nothing to amuse us, and they might just as well have a round."

"Why, what's the good, boys? We want all our strength for to-night's work, and he might be here any moment. Ye see the sun is sinking fast."

"Then they can leave off when he comes."

Athelhune, who really did not much care one way or the other, made no answer, and this being taken as a consent, the young men, now that they had roused Beornwulf, set to work to get old Ceolwulf excited, who had gone tranquilly off to sleep.

They proceeded therefore to pitch a chop bone neatly on to his nose, and when he started up full of bewilderment at the unexpected shock, another bone, adroitly thrown, though not very hard, struck him on the mouth. Boiling with rage, old Biggun got up and glared round for his assailant.

"Here he is, old man; here's the Weala that did it!" cried several voices, pushing Beornwulf forward.

"Thou didst, thou nithing thou? I'll teach thee to insult a free born Wihtwara!" cried old Ceolwulf, whose blood was now thoroughly up.

"There, Beornwulf, he has called thee a nithing. Nothing but blood can wipe out that," called out the others, delighted at the success of their stratagem.

Ceolwulf was going at once to strike the young man with his boar-spear, but two or three young men knocked up the point, and told him he must wait until they had made a ring, and he must have the same arms as his antagonist.

They proceeded, therefore, to cut wands of hazel and fix them round in a circle, leaving ample room in the middle for the two combatants, and then they explained to Ceolwulf that whosoever drew first blood or drove his opponent out of the ring was to be considered conqueror. They then gave Ceolwulf the choice of several battle-axes, and allowed him to have a helmet like Beornwulf and a shield, and then they led the two combatants into the ring.

All had now risen from their recumbent position, and were showing much interest in the approaching fray. Opinion was divided as to which of the two was likely to win. Most inclined to Beornwulf, who was younger far and likely to be much more active. The older men, however, augured well from Ceolwulf's size and experience that victory might declare for him.

Wearing their shields on their left arms, and holding their battle-axes in their right, the two men eyed each other steadily, and in order to rouse them to greater animosity, several young men called out: "Remember, Beorney, he called thee a Weala." "And worse than that, he called thee a nithing," added others.

While to provoke Ceolwulf they called out: "He called thee a wooden head, and threw bones in thy face."

Poor little Wulfstan looked on with anxious eyes. He did not much fear for Ceolwulf, in whom he had always had unbounded confidence, but the thought would occur to him that were anything to happen to their old servant what would become of himself and AEdric? He was their only friend left in the whole world now. So he thought, and looked on, angry-eyed and wistful.

And now the fight began. Beornwulf stepped up close to Ceolwulf and made a feint at his right arm, which Ceolwulf parried with his axe, and caught the next blow, aimed with all the young man's might at his head, with his round shield. The force of the blow split the shield and exposed the arm, so that all thought the old man was wounded, but Ceolwulf at the moment that the blow descended, struck slanting at the exposed right side of his opponent, and cut through his leathern jerkin, causing a crimson stream to flow down his armour.

"A hit! a hit!" they all cried, and then, forgetting their own rules in their excitement, they called out to Beornwulf to revenge himself. But Ceolwulf parried every blow, and called out that the victory was his. He was very anxious the combat should have a speedy termination, for he did not wish to kill his opponent, foreseeing that if he did his position and that of Wulfstan would be rendered much more unpleasant, and he naturally had no wish to be killed himself. While all were excited at the contest a voice suddenly called out, "Why, men, what is all this to do? Haven't ye work enough in hand to-night that ye must needs be splitting each other's heads now?"

All turned round astonished, and a universal cry of "Caedwalla!" told Wulfstan that his handsome friend of the morning was among them.

*CHAPTER IV.*

*THE SURPRISE.*

The arrival of Caedwalla put an end to the combat, to the great joy of Wulfstan, who ran up to Ceolwulf with eager congratulations.

"I knew that fellow couldn't do thee any harm, Biggun; he didn't know thee as well as I do, or he wouldn't have dared to stand up to thee; but I am glad thou gavest it him as thou didst."

"Aye, Wulf, they will respect us all the more after this. I thought I should give him a good trouncing," said Ceolwulf complacently.

"Why, whom have we here?" cried Caedwalla, now for the first time seeing Ceolwulf and Wulfstan. "Why, it's the old greybeard I met this morning, and the stout little son of AElfhere! And what art thou doing here?"

The whole of the circumstances were quickly narrated to him, and, patting Wulfstan on the head, he told him he should make him one of his Huscarles, or body-guard, which delighted the boy much. He reproved Beornwulf for being so quarrelsome, and advised old Ceolwulf not to call people "nithings" again, or worse would come of it. As it had turned out he had drawn Beornwulf's blood first, and therefore, according to the laws of the Holmgang, or duel, Beornwulf ought to pay the fine of the conquered; but, considering how great a provocation Ceolwulf had given, he should decide that the two were now quits, and there the matter had better end. "And now, my men, we must be up and doing. I have learnt that the greater part of Edilwalch's men have gone with the two eorldomen to Kent, and the king is spending the night at Cissanceaster; we are now about six miles off, and it will take us till near midnight to get there and arrange our plans. Beornwulf, as thou art wounded, thou hadst best take this boy back to his brother at Boseham, and take care of him until I come. Bid the monks treat him well, or, by Freja, I will skin the shavelings; but they are good men," he added, "and will do that without my bidding. And as to thee, old man, thou hadst best take Beornwulf's place, and make good the damage thou hast done. And now, men, fall in. Athelhune, you will take command of the rear, I will lead the advance, and do thou, old man, take Beornwulf's arms and give him thine to take back to Boseham; after to-night I trust thou wilt have some of thine own, or else that there will be no want of any. Remember all of ye that in worsting Edilwalch we are winning a victory for Wessex, and each victory for Wessex is a step towards my rightful crown. Ye have feasted on the flesh of the wild boar which Woden has put before ye as an omen of victory; remember the sagas, and how he who dies in battle will feast for ever on Saehrimnir the Eternal, and quaff mead from the never-dying Heidrun, and shall for ever and for ever hack his enemies in pieces. Who would not rather go there than live here? But to obtain honour there we must kill our enemies here, and the more we kill, the greater our joy hereafter. Up, men, and earn an undying name!"

Excited by this speech, and eager for the fray, each warrior clashed his axe against his shield, and the wild din caused the birds, that were going to roost, to fly screaming out of the branches, and scared the beasts of the forest in their distant lair.

"See, the wild ravens there,
Woden's wild birds of air,
Call us to Nastrond's fare,
Call us to battle!"

shouted a warrior, whose eyes glowed with the joy of approaching fight.

"Hark to the wolves' wild cry,
Baying towards the sky,
Knowing the prey is nigh,
Hearing death's rattle!"

cried another answering, tossing his battle-axe high in the air, and catching it again; for every warrior who wished to be distinguished affected a talent for verse, and all leaders who desired fame surrounded themselves with "Skalds," or gleemen, as they were called, who should proclaim their doughty deeds.

Wulfstan longed to go with the expedition, but Caedwalla would not hear of it, and he was sent off with Beornwulf, both sulky at their dismissal, but Beornwulf especially enraged, and vowing vengeance on Ceolwulf when he got the chance.

"Never mind, Beorney, thou canst practice fighting with the monks, they won't hurt thee," shouted some of the young men.

"And thou canst throw stones at the seals, they won't run away," called another, as they went off laughing; while Beornwulf, grinding his teeth with rage, and having no retort ready, disappeared with Wulfstan in the direction of Boseham.

The others directed their march through the forest towards Cissanceaster, proceeding at a rapid pace; all noise had now ceased, and each man settled down to his step with the air of men accustomed to long expeditions, and who all knew their business thoroughly. Ceolwulf wished much his master AElfhere had had a few dozen men like these the night before, and he hoped if he could only induce Caedwalla to take up the cause of his young lords, that they might recover their lands and revenge themselves on Arwald; he had seen therefore Wulfstan go off with Beornwulf less reluctantly than he otherwise would have done.

The sun had set, and the mists of the forest rendered it a difficult matter to see their way, but Caedwalla led them on without pausing or appearing to be once in doubt as to which way to go. After they had gone on in almost absolute silence for about a couple of miles they came to a circular clearing in the forest; in the centre of this clearing was a large stone, and Caedwalla went up to it, and, raising his battle-axe aloft, chanted the following verses:--

"To Woden, great god, I vow
Victims to slay enow
If he to us allow
Victory to-night.

Here in the forest glade,
Under the oaks' dark shade,
On my keen axe's blade,
Oaths do I plight.

By the last earthly pang
Men felt as high priests sang
When the wild death-cry rang
Speeding souls' flight.

Grant us to win the fight!
Grant us death's fires to light!
Favour the cause of right!
Woden, all bright!"

Again the dull clang of the axes striking against the shields gave token of the warriors' assent, and, once more putting himself at the head of his men, Caedwalla pursued his march in silence. That grim stone in the solemn forest ring had seen many a horrid sacrifice, and had been stained with the blood of many victims long before the Saxons or the Romans came into the Island; and if any places could be haunted that surely ought to have been, considering the horrors that had taken place there, the cruel and detestable custom of offering human sacrifices being common to Teuton and Celt alike.

And now it was clear, from the extreme care the advance guard took not to make any noise, that they were approaching the object of their expedition. After a few minutes more the column halted, and Caedwalla directed the band to divide into four equal companies. He then ordered three of them to march round the dim cluster of houses, or cottages rather, which were scarcely distinguishable in a clearing of the forest, which had been getting less dense for the last mile or two. Caedwalla ordered Athelhune to take command of the company that had farthest to go, and bid them raise the battle-cry, and clash their axes and shields together as soon as they were ready for the attack. At this signal all were to fall on and slay whom they met. Caedwalla reserved for himself the right of attacking Edilwalch, and directed that such prisoners as should be taken should be brought to the altar of sacrifice, and there be offered up to Woden and the shades of their ancestors.

Silently in the darkness of the night the men disappeared, and Caedwalla led his party cautiously and in single file closer to the village. As they got nearer Ceolwulf could make out that the work before them was rather more formidable than a mere night surprise on a cluster of undefended houses. Before him was a wall about twelve feet high and a ditch outside the wall. Supposing none were on the wall to oppose them it would not be a serious obstacle to active and resolute men; but should there be a determined foe behind it, the assault would be a serious affair. Caedwalla ordered a young man to creep as close up to the wall as he could, and then, if all were favourable, to climb up it and reconnoitre the place. Ceolwulf could see that there was a gate a little further to the right of where they were, but he concluded that this would probably be guarded, and that was why Caedwalla had not selected it for attack.

Stealthily the figure descended the bank of the ditch; they could just hear the sloshing sound made by his feet as he got into the mud, then a slight splashing, sounding to those listening very loud, then silence, which was suddenly broken by a wild, unearthly cry, causing them all to start, and they could hear the young man slip down, and then the splashing sounds were repeated, and soon after he appeared.

"Well, what was it?" impatiently asked Caedwalla.

"A witch!" said the young man, shuddering. "I saw her eyes of fire glaring at me, and I heard her spit--listen!"

Again the strange cry rang out, ending in a kind of sputtering snarl.

"Why, man, it's only a cat! Art afraid of a cat? Here, Eadwin, I can trust to thee; go thou and see if any one is on the other side."

But these young men, all as brave as lions in fight, firmly believed in supernatural powers, and nothing terrified them more than the idea of witches and demons; and when they heard that their comrade had seen a great witch, all covered with fur and a long streaming broomstick wrapped round with bristles flourishing above her head, and glaring, fiery eyes staring right at him and uttering fearful cries, which they had all heard, not one was daring enough to go.

"Out upon ye, men, for a pack of spiritless hinds!" cried Caedwalla, disdainfully. "I shall have to go myself; but, mind, as soon as ye hear me call, or the signal from Athelhune is given, up with ye, witches or no witches, or ye will go to Nifleheim quicker than ye like."

He was just starting to go on the perilous work when he felt his arm held, and the voice of Ceolwulf arrested him.

"Atheling, I will go, I have no fear of witches; I have a wolf's snout hung round my neck, and no witch can hurt me, be her charms never so powerful."

"Well, old man, thou teachest these boys a lesson; a stranger and an old man, thou darest what my carles, young and bound to me by every tie, dare not. When I am king of Wessex, as I shall be, I will not forget thee. Here's my hand on it."

Cautiously old Ceolwulf went down into the ditch, and again the sounds of his progress seemed dangerously loud, then silence, broken by the wild din of shouting and the clash of arms which suddenly arose.

"There it is," cried Caedwalla, rushing forward, followed by the men behind him. "Strike for the golden dragon! Strike for the house of Cerdic! The Valkyrior claim their own! Tyr scents the battle." Shouting wildly such war cries, the band plunged into the ditch, splashed through it, and dashed at the wall. Old Ceolwulf had by this time got to the top, and, kneeling down, he helped Caedwalla up. The two sprang boldly down into the open space inside scattering a party of cats[1] that rushed screaming, with their tails in the air, towards the nearest houses. Caedwalla instantly seized the omen, and shouted:

"See how the witches fly,
Scared by our battle-cry,
Follow to do or die,
Follow Caedwalla!"

[1] These domestic cats were most probably the descendants of some which had accompanied the Roman colonists. The native wild cat is untamable.

And now an answering cry arose within the town. Lights flashed here and there, and all seemed confusion. Shouts of defiance could be heard on all sides, showing that the attack was completely successful as far as simultaneousness of action went. The difficulty was to avoid attacking each other. Caedwalla made for the nearest house, and, smashing in the door with his axe, cut down the first man that came to meet him. The terrified women and children rushed out by a back door, and Caedwalla instantly called for some straw to be brought him, and, lighting it from the fire that was burning on the hearth, soon set the cottage in a blaze. The flames spread from one building to another, and the affrighted inhabitants rushed out into the street screaming in terror. The followers of Caedwalla cut down all the men that offered any resistance, but pursued their way to the palace of the king. Edilwalch was now aware of what was happening, and having hastily armed himself, accompanied by a few devoted adherents, rushed out to meet his assailants.

The other bands had not yet made their appearance, and the position of Caedwalla was rather critical. His little party only numbered fourteen in all, and although the flames of the burning houses, which were all made of wood and thatched, allowed him to see where to direct his attack, yet they at the same time served to expose the fewness of his numbers. Edilwalch was no coward. He was fully alive to the importance of crushing this handful of men before the others, whose battle-cries could be heard drawing nearer and nearer, could join their companions; and, leaving a few men to guard the palace--which was no more than a rather larger house than the other cottages, and thatched like them--he shouted his battle-cry, and attacked Caedwalla's party. Nominally Edilwalch was a Christian, having been christened at the request of Wulfhere of Mercia, and had received the Isle of Wight as a reward for his conversion. His battle-cry, therefore, should have been different to that of Caedwalla, but in his excitement he forgot his new faith, and invoked the Teutonic deities to his aid.

The first to encounter Edilwalch was Eadwine, who was anxious to show his leader that if he was afraid of witches he was not afraid of men. But the voice of Caedwalla shouted to him to remember his orders, and Eadwine turned aside to attack a stout eorldoman who fought by the side of Edilwalch. Down came his axe at the headpiece of his foe, who parried it with his shield, and struck furiously back at Eadwine. The blow was given with such good will that it shore away his shield above the elbow, and broke the arm which held it. Plying his axe vigorously with his right arm, Eadwine gave the eorldoman a cut across the cheek, but directly afterwards was knocked down by a terrific blow on his helmet. Striding across his fallen antagonist, the eorldoman cut at Caedwalla, who was engaged in vigorous fight with Edilwalch, already wounded and giving ground; but Ceolwulf caught the blow with his axe, shivering the handle and sending the splinters flying, one of which pierced the eorldoman in the eye, and caused him to stagger back with the pain. But he was not destined to feel pain long, for another crashing blow of Ceolwulf's axe avenged the fall of Eadwine, and tumbled the South Saxon to the ground. The fighting had now become general, and the din of weapon striking weapon, the crash of falling buildings, the crackling of the flames as they leaped high in air, the fierce shouts of the combatants or the deep groans of the dying, made a wild and fearful uproar that produced a mad intoxication in the fighting mass. High above all rang the stentorian voice of Caedwalla as he plied his blows, now right, now left, at the devoted body-guard of Edilwalch, who was badly wounded, and was being led off to his palace. The small party who fought round Caedwalla, inspirited by his wild chant and furious blows, pressed on after the retreating king, and each of their axes seemed endowed with ceaseless life. Several had fallen on both sides, and fearful were the wounds made by these two-edged axes; but now the affrighted townspeople--if the inhabitants of Cissanceaster deserved the name at that time--seeing the small numbers of their assailants, came to the assistance of their king, whom they did not much love, but in whose success they saw at least safety for themselves and their families. Caedwalla--who, in the midst of all this wild turmoil and in spite of his personal part in the fight, never lost the presence of mind essential to a leader--saw that unless he slew Edilwalch before the people rallied, he would lose the whole object of the expedition, pressed harder and harder upon those who opposed him, till at last, with a spring, he dashed upon the group who were leading the king away. With hair streaming behind him, his helmet battered, but the heron's plume still erect, his eyes gleaming with wild excitement, his armour stained with blood, and his shield in pieces, Caedwalla rushed upon the king. One flash, one groan, and his competitor was no more. Right through the axe of the faithful guard who tried to parry the blow the triumphant weapon of Caedwalla sank into the brain of Edilwalch, and the king of the South Saxons was numbered with AElla, Cissa and his ancestors. But not unavenged shall he die, for wildly the henchmen turn upon the slayer, and three axes gleam in the air together. Ill would it have fared with the son of Ceawlin had not watchful eyes and stout hands been by: axe meets axe, and blow answers blow, and the death of all the immediate supporters of Edilwalch assures Caedwalla the victory.

But where are the other bands? Where is Athelhune? Where are the house-carles? Where is Caedwalla's brother Wulf?

"Quick, Caedwalla, retreat while yet there is time," shouted Ceolwulf, who saw the ominously increasing crowds of hostile faces pressing up behind them. Their own numbers were very few. Three were lying on the ground either dead or dying; two more were so desperately wounded that they could hardly offer any resistance, and reeled as they stood round Caedwalla, and only two or three had escaped without a wound.

But the chieftain's eye instantly took in the situation, and without a moment's hesitation he ordered all to advance on the palace. He could hear the cry of Athelhune, and at last saw by a movement among the crowd that the other bands were coming up.

With a rush, therefore, they sprang towards the palace gate. The defenders were few, for in the excitement of the fight round their king the men had disregarded Edilwalch's orders, and had come out to join the fray.

Daunted by the fierce onslaught, they fled into the interior, and Caedwalla's men rushed in, closely followed by a yelling mass of infuriated townspeople. But two of Caedwalla's men kept these at bay until the doors were shut.

The position now was somewhat curious. Edilwalch was killed, and Caedwalla occupied his palace--at least some part of it--and was himself besieged in his enemy's stronghold; but in the rear of his assailants he could hear his own men pressing up, and he had little doubt of the victory in the end.

But now Caedwalla was to feel the effects of that element he had invoked to his own aid. A stifling smoke rolling through the rooms where he and his party had taken refuge told them that the house was on fire, and the shrieks of terrified women behind them showed how far it had spread, and how useless it was to seek for shelter by going further into the house.

"There is no help for it, my men--our safety lies in our own hands. With them let us hew us out a path; we cannot fight with fire. I hear the shout of Wulf, my brother, and Athelhune is pressing on. Let us all make ready; the moment I give the word and the door is opened, rush out upon the yelling curs. Are ye all ready? Throw open the gate. Follow me!" and with a fierce shout of fury the eight desperate men sprang upon the mob.

Then once more began the wild cut and thrust. Scarcely one of Caedwalla's men had any of his shield left. Regardless of their own safety, they now only thought of selling their lives as dearly as possible, and each man hewed and stabbed, and struggled, and pushed in the seething, furious crowd. Woe to him who fell! there was no hope of his ever rising again.

All the while the shout of Athelhune's men grew nearer, and the flames of the burning palace waxed hotter and hotter, and the whole place and scene resembled Pandemonium let loose. Shrieking women, with dishevelled hair, stood on the outskirts of the mass, and as they saw their friends fall, seized them by their limbs, and tried to pull them out of the fray. But nearer and nearer came Caedwalla's bands, until, with a wild rush and shout of triumph, they burst through the men who were opposing them, and, cutting through the crowd that thronged about their chieftain, rescued him from his perilous position.

They had not come a moment too soon. Caedwalla's axe was broken; he had received a cut across his arm; not a bit of his shield was left but a small piece to which the thong was attached that served to strap it on: his heron crest was shorn off; and his right arm was stiff and weary with the fight. Ceolwulf was wounded, and not a man but had some hurt, and the heat from the burning palace behind was growing unendurable. At Caedwalla's feet lay the dead body of Edilwalch, and around lay heaped up the bodies of the slain. Truly, the feast for the Valkyrior maidens was enough.

When the men of Cissanceaster saw the companies of Caedwalla now all united, they drew off, and stood sullenly looking at the carnage they had made, or else went off to put out the fires which were blazing around them, or to see that no more houses took fire.

Then Caedwalla, seeing that none had any longer a mind for the fight, stepped forward, and, addressing the inhabitants, said:

"Men of Cissanceaster, and all good South Saxon folk, I came not to war with ye. Ye are all my kith and kin, and I would rule ye as well as my ancestors did; but Edilwalch, who lies here dead, revolted, as ye all know, from the kindly sway of my kinsmen, and joined the enemies of my race and yours, the tyrannous Mercians. Would ye prefer Mercia to Wessex? the wicked Penda[2] and his son, with their many deeds of bloodshed, to the wise Ceawlin and his noble descendants? If ye prefer war, here am I, and my faithful followers; our arms are not yet weary, nor is our soul yet low; let us decide the issue now. If any claim the crown for Edilwalch or his descendants, either I will fight any man single-handed, or we will choose man for man and fight it out, and Woden shall choose the victor. Shall we be friends or foes?"

[2] Penda died in the flight from Winwidfield A.D. 655, but the memory of his power and ruthlessness remained long after him.

A low murmur of applause greeted this speech, and Caedwalla went on:

"If, my friends, ye prefer peace, and think enough hail has fallen to Woden, and the Valkyrior should rest appeased, let us then ratify our friendship and our rule by feasting. Bring us here such food as ye have, and we will sup together, and drink to the brave slain who are now entering Valhalla."

The leading men who were left of the followers of Edilwalch talked apart, and the rest of the people went off to look after their property. Caedwalla seeing no one inclined to answer him, again spoke.

"Come, my men, let us be friends, and bring us what we want, that all may end in peace and pleasure. We care not to await much longer."

One of the oldest of the South Saxons stepped forward, and said that if Caedwalla would give Edilwalch a funeral becoming his rank, and would treat all men as well as Edilwalch had done, they would accept him for their king.

Caedwalla having accepted these conditions all hostilities were laid aside, the new king's followers helped to put the fires out, and, the bodies being carried away and torches brought, preparations were made for feasting the conquerors. The carcasses of some oxen were found ready roasted in the burnt stalls, and beer and milk were brought out from the stores belonging to Edilwalch, and which now belonged to his conqueror; all sat down on rough benches quickly improvised from the ruins of some of the cottages, and tables were made in the same rough-and-ready way.

Soon all was laughter and merriment: gaily the jugs of ale went round, and the half-roasted flesh was devoured with avidity. Coarse jest and practical joke accompanied the feast, and when all were satisfied the warriors slept round the remains of the repast. Only Caedwalla and his two lieutenants, Wulf and Athelhune, retired to a room in the half-burnt palace; a few of the more responsible of their soldiers were left to guard the door in turns, with orders to rouse every one if any cause for alarm should arise.

*CHAPTER V.*

*ST. WILFRID.*