Chapter VI: Part 6

Judging, that if the men who were Arwald's own people, and who had come from the other part of the island, could be disposed of, the other men would be less likely to fight with any vigour, especially if they knew that they would be received into favour again by their old eorl's son; Athelhune shouted out to his men to kill the traitors who came with Arwald, but to spare the poor fellows who were compelled to fight against their will for a tyrant and robber they hated; and he immediately hurled a stone with all his force at the man who seemed to be the leader of the party. The blow was warded off by the man's shield, but in raising his arm to do this he exposed himself to a spear thrust which Beornwulf, who was standing near Athelhune, promptly gave him; and although the man, with great heroism, continued to struggle on, yet his blows lost much of their force, and eventually he fell fainting to the ground.

Meanwhile it was already obvious that Athelhune's well-judged words, added to Wulfstan's expostulations, had had their effect, and had also been useful in a way Athelhune had not thought of; for the men who were from the other part of the island were now evidently suspicious of their allies, who had given some grounds for it by not pressing up quite so eagerly as the others had done; and this very consciousness of mistrust served to make the men work less heartily together.

It was quite clear to the man who succeeded to the leadership of the assailants on the fall of Athelhune's antagonist that what had got to be done must be done by his own men, and that the others would join in heartily enough as soon as they saw success attending their efforts. Being, therefore, a brave and energetic man, he called to his men to follow him, and sprang at the wall.

The defences had been raised nearly eight feet high, and a rude platform had been made about four feet high all round inside; thus the defenders had the advantage of striking down at their foe, as well as being protected by the breastwork of the wall. The walls were, however, very imperfectly made, without any mortar or cement; if, therefore, any of the defenders were to push too violently against it in places, he was liable to displace some of the upper stones, and expose himself. This, however, was not such a disadvantage as at first sight it seemed, for the second leader, leaping up to grasp the top of the wall, in order to pull himself over, had seized a stone that was insecurely placed, and being at the same time pressed upon by Beornwulf above, who was waiting to strike with his spear the moment the man came within thrusting distance, the mass gave way, and came down with the man, falling upon him, and crushing his legs with its weight. The two men who were behind him, and who were bold enough, caring more for the destruction of their foes than for the safety of their friends, sprang on to the step thus offered, and were climbing into the breach when they were resolutely met by Athelhune and Beornwulf, and a hand-to-hand fight of a desperate nature began.

The other half-hearted assailants were either making weak attempts to climb over the wall, or were trying to pull their crushed leader from under the weight of the stone that was lying upon his legs, and which was now rendered doubly heavy by the warrior, who was fiercely exchanging blows with Athelhune, using it as a standing place.

This desire for the safety of their fallen leader was more ostentatious than genuine, and was certainly not conducive either to his comfort or the success of the assault; for the only immediate result was to extort the fiercest execrations from the crushed leader, who suffered untold agonies by their wrenching his limbs from under the weight, and had the further consequence of causing their champion, who was engaged in the hand-to-hand fight with Athelhune, to reel on the unsteady stone. He thus missed a favourable, and what would have probably been a decisive blow at his antagonist, and received instead the full force of a tremendous stroke from Athelhune's axe, which toppled him down off the stone upon the men who were pulling at his chieftain.

Thus Athelhune was relieved of his assailant at a very opportune moment, for his neighbour, Beornwulf, was being hard driven by the Wihtwara, who was a powerful, resolute man, and, having scrambled up to the top of the wall, was more than a match for Beornwulf, who had hardly recovered from his late wound inflicted by Ceolwulf in the Andredesweald, and who was, besides, somewhat weak from want of food. Athelhune, having disposed of his foeman, turned in an instant to Beornwulf's help, and with a swinging blow of his axe shore through the leathern gaiters of the Wihtwara, as he stood striking down at Beornwulf. The force of the blow was so terrific that it not only severed the leg completely below the knee, but inflicted a deep gash in the other leg, and the wretched man fell headlong upon Beornwulf inside the fortification.

Meanwhile things had not been going quite so well on the other side of Athelhune. The two men who were defending that part of the little fort were Boseham men, and had not had experience of fighting like the body-guard of Caedwalla; they were, besides, physically inferior, being weakened by the long famine from which they, in common with the rest of the South Saxons, had been suffering; they also mistook the efforts of the old ceorls of AElfhere for really hostile intentions, and were proportionately dispirited at the unequal nature of the contest.

The result, therefore, of the first onset had been the breaking down of the hastily-constructed defences in front, and the entry of two of Arwald's men, closely followed by three of their Braedynge allies. The two Boseham men were forced back, still fighting, and were left by the leading Wihtwara of Arwald's party to be disposed of by the others behind him.

He himself made a rush for where the wounded Eorldoman AElfhere was lying, and without a pause waved his gleaming axe over the defenceless eorl's head. The axe rose, flashed, descended, but at the same instant two other forms had darted forward, another flash of steel almost simultaneous with that of the Wihtwara glanced in the air, and the spear of Wulfstan, driven with all the energy of rage and despair nerving his boyish strength, pierced the heart of the man who was about to murder his father; but Wulfstan's blow would have been too late had it not been for another interposition. Brother Malachi, seeing inevitable death awaiting AElfhere, had rushed forward, and being without any weapon to ward off the blow, had without a moment's thought thrust out his arms to intercept the stroke. With a fortunate instinct he had held them high up, so that the blow had not gathered full force, but the axe inflicted a fearful wound, and Malachi's arm dropped useless to his side. But he had done his work, he had gained his object, and he sank to the ground with a sense of gratification as he saw the Wihtwara fall. There was now only one determined foe left, for the rest of the assailants, who had at no time shown any great desire to come to close quarters, were now evidently wavering, and seeing that Athelhune and Beornwulf had disposed of their antagonists, and were coming hastily to assist the Boseham men and Wulfstan, they drew together and retreated outside the enclosure, the Wihtwara belonging to Arwald going with them. Wulfstan could hardly believe in their good fortune; it seemed impossible that four armed men only, a monk, and a boy should have been able to resist the determined attack of twelve men. Had these been all animated with the same spirit as the six followers of Arwald they certainly could not have made much of a fight of it; but the lucky recognition of his father's ceorls by Wulfstan, and Athelhune's well-timed speech, had turned the scale, and they were masters of the field.

But Athelhune was not satisfied with that; springing on to the wall he shouted out to the Braedynge men to return to their eorldoman, who was waiting to reward them for their services, and who had recognised how skilfully they had managed to baffle the attempts of his enemies. He also told Wulfstan to call to them by name, and invite them to come and see their lord.

These words had their due effect, and the men came in with a sheepish air to look at their wounded master, and to salute him with respectful words. Two or three of them with greater presence of mind suddenly turned upon the only follower of Arwald still alive or unwounded, and disarmed him, accomplishing the feat so quickly as to allow him no time to defend himself.

This was a very hopeful sign of their returning fidelity, and Athelhune saw it with very visible satisfaction; but, like a prudent commander, he would take no rest until he knew what had become of Ceolwulf, for he could not disguise from himself the danger that so small a party as only three men ran, now that he knew the enemy were aware of their arrival and whereabouts.

He thought the best thing to do, therefore, would be to send off three of the most trustworthy of the ceorls to look for Ceolwulf, tell him what had happened, and hasten his return with the much-needed supplies, the want of which was now more than ever felt. Wulfstan having told him who were the men he liked best, he sent them off, and then turned to examine the results of the fight.

His first care was for Malachi, whose heroism and self-sacrifice had raised him to a pinnacle of glory. The wound he had received was of a ghastly nature; the axe had struck the arm below the elbow, had cut to the bone, and then glanced sideways, inflicting a desperate gash, and poor Malachi had already fainted from loss of blood. But Athelhune had seen plenty of wounds of a worse kind than this; indeed, the one he had himself just now given to his antagonist was of a far more terrible nature, and he did not doubt that Malachi would recover. He quickly picked a handful of grass, the softest he could find, placed it firmly over and round the wound, then tore off a piece of the dead Wihtwara's tunic, and bound the arm tightly up. Finally, making a sling, and suspending it round Malachi's neck, and inserting the arm in it, he had him placed under the shelter by AElfhere's side. Then, leaving Deva and Wulfstan to watch over the two wounded men, he went out to see what had become of the other Wihtwaras.

The first man lay dead, close to the wall; near him lay the second leader, still unable to move, for both his legs were broken, and the stone yet rested on them; across him lay the warrior who had nearly killed Athelhune, and who lay face downwards, his helmet cut through, and showing clear evidence of what a well-delivered blow from an English battle-axe could do: he was stone dead. Inside the fortification lay the other man, whose leg had been shorn off by Athelhune; he was fast bleeding to death: nothing could be done for him, even if they had felt inclined. Near the cabin, where AElfhere and Malachi were placed, was lying the other Wihtwara, with Wulfstan's spear still in him; and not far off was the captured follower of Arwald, sitting disconsolate and sulky, with his hands and feet tied fast.

Of Athelhune's little party only two had received wounds, and those very slight. Wulfstan was unhurt, and had forgotten all about his hunger in the joy of having slain his first enemy, and, more than all, saved his father. The rest of the men were talking together, and already Beornwulf and the Boseham men were fraternising with their late foes, who were offering to go and bring some refreshments, when a distant trampling announced the arrival of a considerable body of some sort.

Athelhune directly ordered the men to their posts, and urged them hastily to repair the walls, and then sent one of the Braedynge men to reconnoitre.

There were a few minutes of breathless suspense, for had a fresh enemy appeared it would have fared badly with the weary and scanty defenders. Suddenly a loud cheer relieved their minds, and they knew that Ceolwulf was coming, and bringing them food.

*CHAPTER XII.*

*"THE KING SHALL HAVE HIS OWN AGAIN."*

The wild cheering that answered the shouts of Ceolwulf and his party was scarcely over when the old ceorl appeared, accompanied by a number of AElfhere's former servants, carrying baskets of provisions and other comforts, from which it was quite evident that there was no further danger to be apprehended from Arwald or his followers; indeed, it was soon known to Athelhune and AElfhere that all the men of Arwald's party had been engaged in the late assault, and that there was no immediate risk of Arwald himself coming with a larger band, as the news would not reach him rapidly, seeing that all his men were either killed, wounded, or prisoners, and none of AElfhere's men were likely to report the matter. This was good news to Athelhune's men, who were nearly worn out, and they were very soon engaged in discussing the good cheer.

Some of the choicest of the food was brought to AElfhere, and although the wounded eorldoman was able to eat but little, yet that little seemed to do him good.

"Oh, father, what a joyful time is this!" cried Wulfstan, with his mouth full of a juicy morsel of pork pasty. "How I do wish AEdric were here! It seems years since I saw him; how he will wish he had had my luck!"

"My son," said AElfhere, "the gods have been good to us; we must remember to save of the arms of those robbers to make an offering to Woden. There is one of them taken alive; it will be as well to offer him up, that my ceorls who died when they attacked us that night may have one more foeman to hack in pieces in Valhalla. Mind thou seest to it that he is taken care of. Verily, as he hath made me suffer, so shall he suffer."

Old Deva was all this time sitting rocking herself backward and forward over the fire she had lighted; near her was sitting her goat. The two seemed to understand each other. She was chanting some doggerel in an unknown tongue, in which the words "Arthur ap Uther Pendragon" seemed to occur very frequently, but nobody paid her any attention.

It had now become quite dark, and the scene was very picturesque; the men had piled up a large fire, and were stretched in various attitudes around it. They had laid the dead bodies of the Wihtwaras in a distant part of the ruins, for all were now dead; those who were mortally wounded having been put out of their sufferings by a merciful cynicism, human life in that rough age being very lightly valued.

The news of AElfhere's existence and the arrival of the young Eorl Wulfstan, with old Biggun, had spread over the neighbourhood, and all the populace had turned out, and were thronging round the ruins. Athelhune, who did not know whether they were to be trusted, was at first a little uneasy, and told his men secretly to be on their guard; but Ceolwulf soon reassured him, and he cast off all anxiety, feasting and enjoying himself with the rest.

Song and jest and practical joke rapidly succeeded, and it would have been hard to realise that only about an hour before that same spot had been the scene of a desperate fray, in which at least ten of the revellers had been deadly antagonists; but so it was then, when men were more like children than they are now, when the world has grown older, and the transitions from one frame of mind to another were more rapid and complete, and impressions were less lasting.

As all of Athelhune's party were very weary, directions were given by Ceolwulf that a trusty band of the ceorls of AElfhere should guard the ruins that night, while he and a few more returned to the half-burnt homestead at Braedynge. With him dispersed the rest of the crowd, and the ruins once more sank to their usual silence.

The night passed tranquilly enough. When day broke next morning, the sun rose on a sleeping band of men, and they were not aroused from their deep, refreshing sleep until the servants of AElfhere were busied in preparing the morning meal.

Wulfstan woke with a deep sense of comfort. He was at home, as it were. Round him were the faces of many who had been familiar to him from infancy, and he sniffed up the fresh morning air that blew salt and pure from the sea with the relish of healthy youth.

The ruins bore a new aspect. Fresh rushes had been laid down near and around the little cabin where AElfhere lay; a large iron vessel was steaming over the fire a little way off, from which the fragrant smell of a well-seasoned stew reached him, and this he appreciated even more than the pure air from the sea.

In different parts of the ruins his companions-in-arms were either still recumbent or were going through a simple toilet. Personal cleanliness was not much in fashion in the seventh century, except when it was likely to conduce to comfort, and not many, therefore, were found indulging in the luxury of a wash in the cold water from the well; but some there were, and of this number was Athelhune.

When all were aroused, breakfast was served. It was pleasant to Wulfstan to see how much better his father seemed this morning, and that Malachi also was going on well. He had had his wound dressed and strapped up again, and this time some linen was substituted for the rough remedies of Athelhune.

After breakfast a council of war was called, near the wounded AElfhere, and it was debated what should be done next, as it was not likely Arwald would allow the death of his men to go unavenged, and the news was sure to reach him soon. It was also discussed whether it would not be better to move AElfhere to the homestead again.

It was finally decided that this should be done, and it was also thought the restoration of the eorldoman to his home should be made as important as possible; for as Arwald was sure to hear of the matter very soon, it would be as well to let him know that the love of AElfhere's ceorls was still with their lawful lord, the descendant of the first chieftain that led the free band of roving Jutes to conquer the land for themselves and their descendants.

Messengers, therefore, were sent out to all the country round, and all the ceorls and their thralls were invited to assist at the ceremony of bringing home the eorldoman. It was also widely disseminated that Caedwalla had sent a large force to assist AElfhere, and to restore the Wihtwaras and Wihtea to the domination of Wessex, a part of which kingdom it had originally formed, until Wulfhere, the son of Penda, had quite recently handed it over to Edilwalch, king of the South Saxons; who, however, had never done more than appoint Arwald as his deputy, with instructions to depress such of the Wihtwaras as still preserved any attachment to Wessex.

It was quite evident to Athelhune and AElfhere that Arwald would not allow these proceedings to pass off unmolested; or, if he did not feel himself able to attack them at once, he would undoubtedly do so in the course of a few days, when he had collected enough men for the purpose; but they hoped that the ceorls and thralls would be all wrought up to enthusiasm by the unexpected return of their own eorldoman, and would be able to make a stubborn and effectual resistance.

To the surprise of all, AElfhere seemed much better this morning: whether it were that the treatment of Malachi had really done any good, or that the excitement of the evening before, combined with the delightful satisfaction of having been saved by his own son, and seeing his enemies slain, had roused him from his despondent torpor, and so produced this good effect. But, from whichever cause it arose, there could be no doubt of the fact--he was decidedly better. His wounds looked more healthy, and he was much more cheerful.

The ruins of the Roman villa--for whatever Deva might think about her ancestors having built it, there was no doubt it was built by the Romans or Romanised Britons--were about two miles distant from the house of AElfhere. Ceolwulf had given directions to have the house made as comfortable as possible, and all traces of its occupation by Arwald's followers were carefully obliterated. Care also was taken that there should be a large supply of food; for no Saxon or English ceremony could be considered complete at which a large amount of good cheer was not consumed; and the usual result of a very splendid festival was the half starving of the poorer population for some weeks afterwards; but as it also had another effect, namely, the producing of a good many quarrels, which generally terminated fatally, the number of mouths to be filled subsequently was somewhat reduced.

When all was properly prepared, which was not until the afternoon, a litter was made for AElfhere, and another for Malachi, who was now treated with greater respect, while old Deva was also placed in an important position; then Athelhune and Ceolwulf marshalled the procession. The advance was led by Ceolwulf, attended by all the old servants of AElfhere carrying such hastily contrived banners as could be obtained for the occasion, and armed with axe and spear. Then came a crowd of thralls; a great many ceorls followed, all armed also; and immediately behind them came the litter of Malachi, followed by that of AElfhere, by whose side walked Wulfstan and Deva, and attended by one or two of his own servants carrying refreshments. Behind the eorldoman came Athelhune, followed by Beornwulf and Osborn, and the four Boseham men, their arms all bright, and their accoutrements in proper order. This was the end of the organised procession, but a crowd of men, women, and children came thronging behind, shouting, talking, and gesticulating.

At the head of the whole procession marched a harper; there had not been time to get more than one. He was attended by a band of children, who sang desperately out of tune, and with a very hazy notion of the words, a song of welcome, and waved branches of oak leaves and holly, while some had bedecked themselves with the red berries of the wild iris, and sprigs of "Holm" or "butcher's broom."

The procession wound round the foot of the downs skirting the marshes, and then ascended a gentle rise, until, turning to the left among the tall trees, the old homestead suddenly appeared.

It was a long, low-built, thatched house, with no pretentions to architectural effect. One end was in ruins, and the gaunt, half-charred rafters produced a feeling of desolation, which was somewhat relieved by piles of straw lying ready to repair the damaged roof, while new timbers were in process of being sawn up in a pit close by; behind the house could be seen the higher roof of the barn, and other farm buildings, and the blue smoke curling up amid the brown trees gave a look of comfort very pleasing to AElfhere and Wulfstan.

A few servants stood outside the house ready to receive their lord, and tables were set under the trees near, upon which a lavish amount of steaming joints, huge jugs of ale, and gigantic loaves were spread, and it was quite evident from the longing looks cast in this direction that unless the ceremonies were soon over the procession would dissolve of its own accord.

Ceolwulf therefore briefly welcomed his master home, to which AElfhere as briefly replied, and then have directions that all should at once sit down and begin upon the feast, and he hoped that all would eat plenty and thoroughly enjoy themselves.

A loud cheer answered these few words, and instantly all was confusion. AElfhere had told Ceolwulf to see that Wulfstan paid especial attention to Athelhune and his men, to whom seats of honour were assigned at the head of the principal table.

The feast passed off like all the feasts of those days: an enormous amount of food was consumed, a little wit went a very long way, and no one seemed much inclined to move. After the eating was over one or two loud voices seemed to show that some amount of quarrelling was going on, but Athelhune and Ceolwulf had determined that none of this should take place, and so order was well kept.

Had Arwald attacked them directly after the festivities he would have found an easy prey; but, fortunately for AElfhere and his supporters, the news did not reach Arwald until late that day, and he was not in a position to move at once to the attack.

While the feast was at its height a boy rushed in and shouted that a boat was coming up the haven, and no one knew who it could be. Questioned by Ceolwulf, he said that the boat was not a large one but that there were several men on board, and from the sun shining on something bright, he thought they were well armed. Ceolwulf immediately sent a trusty man to find out what the boat was, and bring him word again.

Just as the festivities were ending this man returned, accompanied by four men in linked shirts of mail, and fully armed. On seeing them Athelhune leapt to his feet, and shouted:

"Welcome, noble Wulf. Thou comest at a happy time. Mayest thou bring us good tidings of our king."

"I do, indeed, bring thee good tidings, Athelhune," cried Wulf, or, as he is called in some histories Mollo. "King Centwine of Wessex is dead, and on his death-bed he named our Caedwalla his successor and directed the eorldomen of Wessex to go to find him, and bring him back as their king. This they did, and I left Caedwalla surrounded by the power of Wessex, recognised as their lawful lord, and successor to the line of Cerdic."

"This is indeed good news," said Athelhune, and then turning to the assembled crowd he called out:

"Men of Wihtea, our lawful overlord has got back his kingdom; let us all thank the gods for this good news, and raise three cheers for Caedwalla."

Instantly all caps were off, all the crowd of revellers were on their feet, and three deafening cheers burst from the lungs of the mob.

The news was really important, for now the tables were likely to be turned upon Arwald, and instead of his venturing to attack them, they would be able to attack him. As the news became known in Wihtea all men would return to their allegiance to Wessex, and it would fare very ill with Arwald. However, as the allegiance of the Wihtwaras had hitherto been more nominal than real, there was not any certainty that they would welcome any actual interference on the part of Caedwalla; for, like all islanders, they were very jealous of any external control. But it was a great object for the rival chiefs of the island to use the moral influence of the name of a powerful authority on the mainland; and, as it was everywhere known that AElfhere had supported the authority of Wessex, while Arwald had represented Edilwalch and Mercia, it was easily understood that since Edilwalch was dead, and his slayer had succeeded to the throne of Cerdic, AElfhere was likely to be more powerful than Arwald.

The arrival too of Caedwalla's own brother, Wulf, accompanied by three such stalwart-looking warriors, brought a very material support, as well as a moral one, to the cause of AElfhere, and the feasting, which was nearly over, was renewed with more joyous ardour.

Wulfstan did the honours bravely, but presently got tired of all the noise and feasting, and very nearly fell asleep two or three times. At last, Athelhune suggested to Ceolwulf that the poor boy should be sent in to his father, to tell him the news.

When Wulfstan entered his father's room he found that he already knew the good tidings, and was deeply thankful for the turn of fortune, but at the same time, knowing Arwald as well as he did, he was not at all confident that all would go well, for he knew that Caedwalla would not be able to bring him assistance at once, and Arwald was too powerful to give up his pre-eminence in the island without a fight. Being also a skilful as well as brave leader, AElfhere well knew he would realise the necessity of striking before the ceorls and thralls had recovered from their late crushing defeat, and especially before any reinforcements could reach the island from Caedwalla. Filled with such thoughts, therefore, AElfhere did not respond to Wulfstan's joy quite so readily. This was a disappointment to the boy, who was brimful of happiness at the bright prospects that were opening up for them.

"Why, father, thou seemest not nearly so merry as I should have thought thou wouldst have been," said the boy, in a disappointed tone.

"We are not yet out of the wood," answered AElfhere. "If we can resist the attack which Arwald is sure to make on us, either to-morrow, or the next day, or can hold our own until Caedwalla sends us reinforcements, all will be well."

"But, father, see how well we fought last night, and then there were only four of us, now there are ever so many. Thou hast not seen the Atheling Wulf who has just come; he is nearly as splendid as Caedwalla himself, and that is as much as saying he is like a god. Thou never sawest anyone so handsome or brave; and thou oughtest to hear old Biggun tell how he took Cissanceaster. Thou dost not really think we are not able to beat any of that villain Arwald's lot, dost thou?"

"Well, Wulfy, we've done very well, and Athelhune and the Atheling will no doubt guard against a surprise, but there will be hard knocks, and the Wihtwaras fight well."

"But we are Wihtwaras too, father."

"True, my son, but we are not as many as those whom Arwald will bring--but it is no good discouraging the lad," muttered AElfhere to himself, "Like enough, being wounded and in sore pain, I look on the dark side, and the boy is right. Well, Wulfy, I have no doubt we shall do well enough, but I should like to see this same prince before night comes on; and Ceolwulf must see that proper guards are set, and all things made ready in case Arwald should come."

"Shall I bid Biggun come, father?"

"Aye, do, my boy, if he can be spared from the feast."

The boy left the room, and speedily gave his father's message to Ceolwulf, who immediately told Athelhune that the eorldoman would like to see the Atheling Wulf.

But Wulf the Atheling was very unlike his brother Caedwalla; he had been spoilt as a child, and was wilful, inconsiderate, and self-indulgent: the only quality he and his brother had in common was great personal courage. As, therefore, he was enjoying himself at the banquet, he declined to accede to AElfhere's request, saying that he would come the next morning, when there was nothing better to do.

Ceolwulf was much displeased at this answer, but there was no help for it; so, asking Athelhune to do the honours in his absence, he accompanied his young master to the wounded eorldoman.

"Ceolwulf," said AElfhere, "the news is indeed good, but let us not lose the wine now the cup is at our lips. You know Arwald, and that he is not likely to let the power he has got in this island slip through his fingers without fighting for it; and we have had too bitter experience already of what comes from keeping a careless watch. I trust, therefore, that thou wilt take every care for the night, and learn the earliest news thou canst of what is going on round Wihtgarsbyryg."

"Aye, that will I," answered old Biggun. "We had enough broken heads the last time to make those who were able to keep their brains in their skulls then, do all they can to keep them there now. I've sent Leofa and the boy Stuff to get as much news as they can, and to tell anything that comes into his head about us. The boy Stuff is a good boy at putting a man on a wrong trail; he has a way of looking stupid-like, and not seeming to understand, and then answering with a question that gets more out than he tells."

"When they come back, mind thou tellest me. How hast thou placed the outposts?"

"Oh, well enough! if they are not too drunk, that is," said Ceolwulf, scratching his head doubtfully. "Leastways, I shall have to go round myself, I doubt not; but they are all placed where they ought to be, and if they allow themselves to be knocked on the head they ought at least to give a squeak first; but there, they've drunk a sight of ale, they have, and perhaps if they get killed they'll only think they are dreaming, and forget to make any noise about it."

"Well, Ceolwulf, I shall trust to thee. I don't myself think there is much danger of attack before morning, and they will be all right by that time. What dost thou think of this Atheling Wulf?"

"Humph! He can fight well enough when he likes, but fighting isn't everything; he can't obey, and he has got no doggedness in him. However, the more we have the better, and Athelhune is here to keep him in order a bit, that's one comfort. Hark to that hubbub! If I don't go there'll be a fight before long."

And so it seemed, for angry voices could plainly be heard, and AElfhere bid Ceolwulf go at once to restore order. When Ceolwulf returned to the festivities, he found that one of the Boseham men, excited by the ale, was loudly boasting of the superiority of the South Saxons to the Wihtwaras, and an excited Wihtwara was as clamorously proclaiming their superiority to the South Saxons; while Wulf, to amuse himself, was promoting the rivalry by timely words. Fortunately Ceolwulf returned just in time to prevent blows, and, with Athelhune's help, order was once more restored.

As it was now getting very dark, a move began to be made by most of the ceorls to their homes, and in a short time the old homestead was comparatively deserted.

Wulf, Athelhune, and their companions, were sheltered in the house and barns for the night, and Ceolwulf and some of the most faithful of the servants took it in turns to keep watch during the hours of darkness.

*CHAPTER XIII.*

*"WHICH IS THE BETTER LIFE?"*

After the departure of Ceolwulf and Athelhune from Boseham, only three days before the restoration of AElfhere to his homestead had been so happily accomplished, considerable anxiety was caused to the worthy monks and AEdric as to what had become of Wulfstan. Father Dicoll had got the children and several of the older men to search everywhere, but naturally to no purpose, and as night set in the hopelessness of the search became evident.

"Oh! Father Dicoll, what can have become of him?" asked AEdric, piteously.

"My son, God will take care of him, and I should not be astonished if he had gone somehow with the others; if he has not, I feel sure, seeing that the lad is a quick lad and naturally endowed with the instincts of self-preservation, he will come in later on. He may, perchance, have gone out to kill some wild animal, a hare or a coney, maybe; but, wherever he is, he is in God's hands, so let us not be over-anxious, but pray for his safe return."

This was not very hopeful comfort, but certainly there were no means of giving any other, and AEdric had to spend a weary night, waking up frequently and putting out his hand in the darkness to feel if his brother had come back, and was sleeping on the pile of skins beside him; but in every case he was disappointed, and after an anxious reflection as to what could have become of him, AEdric fell off to sleep again.

The anxiety of the monks and AEdric was not allayed the next morning, when they found that it had been snowing during the night, and there were one or two ugly-looking footmarks outside the door of their hut, which looked very much as though a wolf or two had been prowling round during the night.

"Well, my son, it is no good making thyself unhappy about him," said brother Corman. "I think it is more than likely he managed to hide himself away on board the boat, and has sailed away to Wihtea as he wished."

"But he might have told me he was going. Why, and now I think of it, and so he did. What a stupid I was not to mind what he said! But I did not give heed to his words then, because I did not think he could possibly get on board without Ceolwulf seeing him, but, of course, he must have done it. Oh, how glad I am! But what a lucky fellow he is!" added AEdric, wistfully. "He will see our old home, and perhaps father; who knows?"

"Then, no doubt, he will send over and fetch thee, if all goes well; so now thou canst be happy again. But we shall have to take leave of thee soon, AEdric. Thou art to go to Wilfrid, the bishop, in Selsea."

"But I don't want to go. Why should I? I am much happier here with thee, Father Dicoll."

"Yes, but thou art not safe here, especially now that thy old ceorl has fought so well at Cissanceaster. All the country is talking about him, and they will soon know that he is gone on an expedition to Wihtea to turn out the ally of the South Saxons."

"Oh! I don't want to leave thee; thou hast been so kind to me. Canst thou not come too if I have to go?"

"I am afraid Wilfrid will not care to have us; and to tell thee the truth, I don't think he will say we are the sort of men who ought to bring thee up."

"Why not? You both believe in the same God. You are both Christians, are you not?"

"Yes; but I shall never make thee understand how little it takes to make men cease to be of one mind in a house. We think we are right, and Wilfrid thinks he is right, but we are willing to think the differences are of little importance, only we don't like to give up our old custom, while he thinks we are stubborn schismatics and obdurate stumbling-blocks, stiff-necked in our ignorance and blinded by our own conceits. Truly our blessed Lord was right when He said, 'I came not to bring peace upon the earth, but a sword.'"

This was all impossible for AEdric to understand. That Christians who took their lives in their hands to convert the heathen, whose whole doctrine turned upon love, charity, peace, should yet be so bitter against each other, was incomprehensible to him, and still more so that they should let this appear in the face of strangers and the common enemy.

"Well, brother Corman, Wulfstan and I often quarrel, but we always make it up and fight like anything against anyone who is our enemy, and we don't let them know we quarrel."

The conversation was interrupted by breakfast, after which arrangements were talked about for taking AEdric to Wilfrid.

The monks had shown a certain animosity and bitterness in speaking of Wilfrid which had communicated itself to AEdric, and he was very unwilling to go to him. He was eager to know more about him, but the monks, to do them justice, were not willing to speak against the bishop, or to prejudice the mind of the boy in any way; while feeling as they did that the branch of the Christian church which they represented was older than the later form introduced by St. Augustine the Monk, they could not but be irritated at the superiority which Wilfrid assumed, and his assertion that they were in error. Worst of all, the new missionaries from Rome had sided with the victorious and pagan Saxon, and had added insult to injury by branding the suffering British with the odious name of unorthodox. And after all, what were these great differences? A fashion of shaving the head dissimilar to that prevailing at Rome, and a different system for calculating the Paschal moon. For practical purposes this last was the more serious difficulty, for it occasioned the inconvenient anomaly of one set of Christians fasting while the other set were feasting, according as they observed the Roman or the Eastern custom of calculating Easter; but the fashion of the tonsure was quite as warmly disputed, and the Irish monks were taunted with being the imitators of Simon Magus![1]

[1] _Vide_ Milman. Latin Christianity, vol. ii., pp. 247-269.

The preparations of the monks did not take very long, but it suddenly occurred to brother Corman that AEdric could not walk, and they had no conveyance by which he could be carried. It certainly would have seemed a matter of no great difficulty to have thought of this before, but their minds were so occupied with speculation, and the little daily round of their religious services, teaching the few children that came to be taught, and providing for their small daily wants, that they had not given any thought as to how AEdric was to get to Selsea, a distance of some five or six miles.

"_Beate Columba!_" said Father Dicoll, "but my head gets duller every day. Why did I not think of this before? We shall have to send someone to tell Wilfrid, and who will go?"

"True," said Corman, looking at Dicoll with a perplexed air. "We have nought that will tempt any of these South Saxons to go. I shall have to go myself."

"The matter is one that is somewhat urgent, I fear, for the boy ought to be with Wilfrid before night, in case the eorldoman Berchthune should send for him. But let us see if we cannot get any of these children to take a message for us."

So saying, Father Dicoll called out to a group of children that were making mud pies on the shore a little way off.

The children paid no attention at first, for they were making too much noise among themselves to be able to hear Father Dicoll. At last, a curly pated, blue-eyed, young Saxon heard him, and thumped a few of the other children to make them keep quiet, which, strangely enough, had the desired effect, which caused brother Corman, who was of a moralising turn, to observe how strangely the same process produced different results.

"For if I beat these younglings they don't keep quiet, but raise a greater clamour; whereas when that yellow-haired pagan beats his brethren they keep as quiet as mice. Perhaps they know that the process will go on until they stop, with him; whereas they have found out that after the blow has fallen there is no more danger from me. Truly, to get what one wants in this world, one ought to have no heart, and keep on thumping."

"Here, Ceolric, my child," called Father Dicoll, "I want to know if thou wilt do something for me."

The youngster ran up to the monk readily when he understood he wanted him, for the monks were favourites with the children and their mothers, and were not disliked by the men; indeed, by most they were decidedly liked.

"Dost thou think thou couldest find thy way to Cymenesora if brother Corman were to put thee over the creek?"

"I don't know, Father Dicoll; it is a good long way and father said I wasn't to go away far from home."

"Is thy father in?"

"Not as I know, but mother is. There she stands yonder, thou hadst best ask her."

"But wouldest thou go if she would let thee?"

Upon this the boy fell to scratching his head. It was quite clear he did not want to go, but, at the same time, did not want to disappoint the monks.

"Look here, Ceolric, if I were to promise thee a fishing line and hook, wouldest thou go then?"

"I've got one."

"Then what would make thee like to go?"

"I don't know as anything would that thou hast got to give me."

The poverty of the poor monks was very well known, and certainly, if they had made any converts from the rough and boorish South Saxons, such conversion must have been entirely brought about by conviction, unalloyed with any thoughts of earthly gain.

Seeing the hopelessness of finding a messenger among the Boseham children, and, consequently, among the rest of the population--for if they could not prevail on the children, among whom their influence was greatest and their little rewards most prized, they certainly would have no success with the adults--it became evident brother Corman would have to go himself.

AEdric could not help seeing what a great deal of trouble he was giving these excellent monks, and, being a good-hearted boy, he felt very grateful to them, and more than ever sorry to leave them. The contrast of their simple, unworldly ways, their gentleness, and readiness to do good to others, with the rough, quarrelsome boastfulness of the men among whom he had lived, was not lost upon him.

The conversations, too, that he had with Father Dicoll had taught him many things he had never dreamt of before. When he was suffering great pain from his leg, it had been a relief to him to listen to Corman telling him of the terrible sufferings of Him who had no need to suffer, but had voluntarily undergone the most dreadful agony of body and mind for the sake of His enemies. It had been quite a new thing to hear that pain was a blessing, that it purified and sanctified; and now, when Corman had started on Malachi's little raft to row down the creek, and cross about a mile further down to the other shore, and thence walk to Selsea, he longed to ask Father Dicoll a few questions, and fortunately Father Dicoll seemed in a talkative mood, for he presently turned to AEdric, and said:

"My son, this is perhaps the last time we may meet. Thou wilt go to a much more learned man than we are, if report speaks true, and one who has great reputation for piety. But remember, my son, that before honour is humility, and that the first thing in life is to be meek and lowly in heart, and then, loving unto all men; if we heartily desire to think others are better than ourselves, thou mayest depend upon it we shall live happier and die better. But what dost thou think should be the aim of our lives?"

After thinking a little AEdric answered, "I should have said a little while ago to be great and honoured in war, to kill a great number of my enemies, and to leave a great name behind me, was the noblest aim in life for a hero and a warrior."

"Dost thou think so now?"

"No, I don't think I do; and yet it is a great thing to be very brave, and do great deeds, and leave a name behind thee, is it not, Father Dicoll?"

"Certainly it is, my son; but what braver deed could anyone have done than He did who gave His life for us? What greater name can anyone leave behind than the name of Him who gave His life a ransom for many? Is not saving life as noble as killing? Is not making more noble than destroying? But what dost thou now think the aim of life?"

"I think," answered AEdric, slowly and meditatively, "the aim of a life ought to be to do something great, but I don't quite know what that ought to be."

"No, my son, no doubt thou dost not, for it all depends upon what we call 'great.' Hitherto thou hast thought--and no blame to thee, for thou knewest no better--that to live the life of a warrior, and make thy name more famous than others, was the highest object. It has never occurred to thee to think of others, but if thou wilt think, thou wilt see that in proportion as thy warlike fame should increase, others must suffer, and according to thy ideas of glory the more who suffer the greater will be thy renown. In other words, thy reputation would be the reputation of the most ferocious wild beast which preys on human food."

"But, Father, everybody I ever met praises the great warrior, the hero. Where canst thou meet a poet or skald who does not sing the fame of some noble chieftain?"

"True, my son, but because many are in error, does that make the mistake any the less? Now let us begin at the beginning: what is the thing in daily use thou thinkest has called for the most cleverness in making?"

AEdric thought a little; there were not many things in daily use at that time that were the result of much ingenuity, but at last he said, "I think a plough, or a boat, is a very useful thing, and must have taken a clever man to think of!"

"Well, yes; but I think a plough is much the more ingenious of the two, for a bit of wood will make a boat, and it is very easy to improve on that when once the idea is started, which any child can do by throwing a stick into a pond; but a plough requires much more thought. However, let us take a plough. Thinkest thou it is easier to make a plough--one that is complete and useful in all its parts--or to destroy one that is made?"

"Why, it is much easier to destroy it."

"Just so; and would the man who destroyed it be thought a more celebrated man than the one who made it?"

"No, certainly not; he would be thought an idle fool."

"Then the destroyer of what is useful is very much the same as an idle fool, is that so?"

"Yes, certainly."

"Now we all agree, heathen and Christian alike, that man was made by some Divine power: your legends say that the All-Father made men, which is exactly what Christians say. Is not a man more useful than a plough, and infinitely more cleverly made? Of course he is. Well, what must the man be who, to amuse himself, or gain glory, which is the same thing to him spends all his life in smashing the most wonderful of all created things? Is he not a destroyer? and we have said that a destroyer is the same as an idle fool. Now, dost thou think that to be an idle fool is a worthy aim? But I need not ask such a question."

"But, Father Dicoll, it is a glorious thing, whatever thou sayest, to die fighting, or, better still, to live fighting for what is one's own, to protect those who are being robbed by those who have no right to take from the weaker."