There is a wondrous joy in the heart of a man who sees his own land
again after long days at sea, but none of that joy might be mine as
the long lines of the South Downs showed blue through the haze of
the late September day. Only the promise of Lodbrok's son, that on
English shores I should not fight, helped me a little, else should
I have been fain to end it all, axe to axe with Rorik on the narrow
deck just now, or in some other way less manful, that would never
have come into my mind but for the sore grief that I was in. And
these thoughts are not good to look back upon, and, moreover, I
should have fully trusted my friend Halfden Lodbroksson.
Hardest of all was it to me when I knew where our landing was to be
made; for if Glastonbury is the most holy place in Wessex, so
should Bosham, the place of Wilfrith the Saint, be held in
reverence by every South Saxon; because there, unmindful of his
wrongs {ix}, he was content to labour with the wild heathen
folk, teaching them, both in body and soul, the first lessons of
our holy faith.
Well knew I the stories of those places which I saw as the ships
crept up the haven, for Humbert our bishop had told me them many a
time when as a child I sat on his knee and listened, wondering.
There was Selsea with its pile of buildings--Wilfrith's own--there
the little cliff over which the starving heathen had cast
themselves in their despair, and there, at last, the village,
clustering round the little monastery that Dicul, the Irish monk,
had founded, and where Wilfrith had first taught. And now, maybe, I
must see the roofs that had sheltered him, and heard the first
praises of his converts, burnt before my eyes, and that while I
myself was siding with the destroyers.
Then at last I took Halfden aside and told him my trouble, putting
him in mind of the promise he had made me.
"Aye," said he, "I knew what made you so silent, and I have but
waited for you to speak. Ill should I have thought of you had you
not done so. But I have this plan for you. You shall go ashore with
the first, and speak to the Saxons to give us ransom, if they have
aught, or if any man is foolish enough to bide in the place when we
come. Then, if you will, you shall leave us and make your way
homeward, there to give messages to my father and yours, and to
look for my coming to Reedham shortly. There will I winter with
you, and we will sail to Jutland in the spring."
Then he looked long at me, and put his arm round my shoulder.
"Truly I shall miss you, Wulfric, my brother, yet it is but for a
short time."
Now I knew not how to thank him, for this plan was all that I could
wish. And he would have no delay, but gave me good Saxon arms and
helm, and a chain-mail byrnie {x} of the best, such as Saxon or
Dane alike would wear, for he had many such, gathered from the
different lands he had raided with his father and brothers.
"Any man, seeing you in Danish arms and helm," he said, "might well
mistrust you. So you must needs take these, for you have far to
go."
Then, too, he pressed on me a heavy leathern bag, for he said truly
enough that I should need gold withal to buy a horse. And this I
took willingly, saying that it should be as a loan till he came to
Reedham.
"Nay," quoth he, "this is your share of booty; we surely gained
enough on yonder shores to bring you this much."
Then I was silent, for I was ashamed of those gains, and I did not
look into the bag, but bestowed it inside my mail shirt, for I
would not offend him. Then, when I was armed and ready, he gave me
many messages for his father, and thanks to mine. A ring, too, he
gave me for a sure token of his friendship to me; and so as the
ship crept, under oars only, up Bosham haven, we talked of the
hunting we would have together, when the leaves were fallen in our
forests; and that was pleasant to look forward to.
Now began frightened men to run to and fro on the haven's banks,
and then suddenly came the ringing of a bell from the low tower of
the church, and the Danes began to look to their arms, stringing
bows, and bringing up the pebble ballast for sling stones, in case
the landing should be resisted.
But when we came to a little wharf, the other ship being perhaps a
mile astern of us, there was no man. Only a small fishing vessel
lay alongside, and that we cast adrift, taking its place.
Then Halfden and I and twenty men went quickly ashore and marched
up among the trees of the village street. There was no man in
sight, but the bell was still ringing.
A great fear for the holy men shut up in the little monastery came
over me now, and I asked Halfden to let me warn them, for I knew
that he was like his father and would not deny me in this.
"Go and do so if you can," he said, "and so farewell till we meet
at Reedham. We shall bide here till Rorik's men join us, and you
will have time."
So he took my hand and I went quickly thereafter, the men calling
after me "Farewell, axeman!" heartily enough, knowing of my going
to Reedham, and caring nothing for the monks, seeing that there
would be no fighting.
Now, guided by the bell, I went on quickly, seeing no man. The
houses stood open and deserted, and all along the road were
scattered goods, showing that the people had fled in haste, so that
they had soon cast aside the heavier things they had thought to
save.
Soon I came to the gate of the little stone-walled monastery, over
which rose the tower whence the bell yet rang; for the church
seemed to make one side of the courtyard into which the gate would
lead. A farm cart stood outside; but the gates were closed, and
when I looked, I saw that the pin of the wheel was broken, so that
the cart could go no further. And that made me fear that more than
the monks were penned inside those four walls.
I knocked loudly on the gate, and for a while was no answer, though
I thought the ringing of the bell grew more hurried. Then I beat on
the gate with my axe, crying:
"Open, in the name of Eadmund the King."
And I used his name because, though a Dane might well call in
subtlety on the name of Ethelred, none but a Saxon who knew how
well loved was the under-king of East Anglia would think of naming
him. And I was right, for at his name the little square wicket in
the midst of the gate opened, and through its bars an old monk
looked out, and at once I cried to him:
"Let me in, Father, for the Danes are at my heels."
He muttered a prayer in a voice that trembled, and let me in,
holding the gate fast, and closing and barring it after me.
And all the courtyard was full of terrified men, women, and
children, while among them stood the half-dozen monks of the place,
pale and silent, listening to the clang of the bell overhead.
When they saw me some of the women shrieked and clung to children
or husbands, scared at my arms. But one of the monks, a tall man on
whose breast was a golden cross, came quickly to me, asking: "Is
the sheriff at hand with the levy?"
I told him hastily how that the only hope for these helpless ones
was in flight to the woods, urging him until he understood me.
Gathering his monks around him, and rousing the people, he led them
to the rearward gate that opened toward the forest land, calling at
the same time to his swineherd, who was there, and bidding him take
them by the forest tracks to Chichester.
Then he bade his monks go also; but they lingered, asking to be
allowed to stay with him, and also what should become of the holy
vessels if the heathen laid profane hands on them.
"Obey, as your vows bid you," said the prior; "I and this warrior
will care for the holy things."
So they went, weeping, and were lost in the woods; for there was
little cleared land round the village, and the trees came close to
the monastery walls.
Now we two, the monk and I, stood at the open gate for a moment and
listened. We could hear nothing of the Danes as yet.
Then we closed and barred that gate; and all this while the bell
had tolled unceasingly, calling as it were for help that came not.
"Now do you go and call the sacristan from the bell," the prior
said, "and bid him lead you to the chancel, where I shall be."
I went to the tower door, unhesitating, for this man seemed to have
a wondrous power of command, so that I obeyed him without question,
even as had the villagers. And even as I went there came the sound
of many rushing feet up the street, and yells from Danish throats,
while axe blows began to rain on the gate by which I had entered.
Then the prior bade me hold the gate when he heard that, and he
spoke quietly and in no terror, turning and calling to the man in
the tower himself; while I stood opposite the gate, looking to see
it fall with every blow. Yet it was not so weakly made as that, and
moreover I remembered that it was crossed with iron bands in
squares so that the axes could not bite it fairly.
Now the bell stopped and the Danes howled the louder. A torch flew
over the wall and fell at my feet blazing, and I hurled it back,
and the Danes laughed at one whom it struck. Then came the two
monks from the tower and ran into the church, while I watched the
trembling of the sorely-tried gate, and had it fallen I should
surely have smitten the first Dane who entered, even had Halfden
himself been foremost, for in the four walls of that holy place I
was trapped, and knew that I must fight at last. And now it seemed
to me that I was to fight for our faith and our land; and for those
sacred things, if I might do naught in dying, I would give my life
gladly.
"Come," said the prior's voice, and he was smiling though his face
was pale, while behind him the sacristan bore an oaken chest, iron
bound, on his shoulders.
He drew me across the courtyard, but I ever looked back at the
gate, thinking it would fall; and now they were at the other gate,
and blows rained on it. Yet the monk smiled again and went on
without faltering, though our way was towards it.
Then we turned under an arch into a second court, and the din was
less plain as we did so. There was the well of the monastery, and
without a word the sacristan hove the heavy chest from his
shoulders into its black depths, and the splash and bubble of its
falling came up to us.
"That is safe," said the prior; "now for ourselves."
He hooked the oaken bucket to its rope and let it down to its full
length in the well, and at once the sacristan swung himself on it,
slid down, and was gone. Then the rope swayed to one side, and
stayed there, shaking gently in a minute or so.
The prior drew it up, and maybe fifteen feet from the top, there
was a bundle tied--a rope ladder on which were iron hooks. These he
fastened to the edge of the oaken platform that covered the well
mouth, and let the other end fall down the well. Then he bade me go
down to the sacristan.
That was easy to me, and I went, yet I feared for him who stood
listening to the splintering of the nearer gate, for it would soon
fall surely. I saw the sacristan's face glimmer white before me
from a hollow in the well shaft, as I set my foot on the last rung
of the ladder, and I held out my hand to him. Then in a moment I
was beside him in a little chamber built in the walling of the
well; and after me came the prior.
He jerked the ladder from side to side till the hooks above lost
their hold and it fell, so that he drew it in. We were but a few
feet above the water, and the well rope hung down into the
blackness before us, but I was sure that no man could see the
little doorway of the chamber from above, for the trapdoor in the
well cover was small, and light there was hardly any.
"Now all is safe," said the prior; "and we may be careless again."
"They will burn the monastery," I said. "One torch has been thrown
already."
He smiled a little, as I thought, for my eyes were growing used to
the dim light.
"They may burn some things, but roof and benches are soon made
afresh. There is oaken timber in plenty in Andredsweald, and ready
hands to hew it. Our stone walls they cannot hurt."
Those were all the words we spoke of the matter at that time, for
there came a great shouting. One of the gates had fallen at last,
and the Danes were in the place.
"Father," said the sacristan, "surely they will find this place?"
The prior laughed a short laugh.
"That is a thought born of your fears, Brother," he answered; and I
who had had the same fear was rebuked also, for indeed that I
should go down the well had never come into my mind, even in our
need of shelter, so why should the Danes think of it?
Then we were silent, listening to the feet and voices overhead. The
Danes found the belfry presently, and began to toll the bell
unskillfully while the men below jeered at those who handled the
ropes. Then the bell clashed twice strangely, and the prior laughed
outright.
"The clumsy churls have overthrown her," he said, "now I hope that
one has had his head broken thereby."
I marvelled that he could jest thus, though maybe, after the strain
and terror of the danger we had so far escaped, it was but natural
that his mind should so rebound as it were.
Very soon after this the Danes came clattering into the little
court where the well was, and straightway came to its mouth,
casting stones down it, as no idle man can help doing. The
sacristan crept to the furthest corner of our little den and sat
there trembling, while I and the other monk listened with set teeth
to the words that came down to us. Nor will I say that I was not
somewhat frightened also, for it seemed to me that the voices were
unknown to me. They were Rorik's men, therefore, and not our
crew--who likely enough would but have jeered at me had they found
me hiding thus.
"Halfden's men have drunk all the ale in the place, and that was
not much," said one man; "let us try the water, for the dust of
these old storehouses is in my throat."
Then he began to draw up the bucket, and it splashed over us as it
went past our doorway.
"There is naught worth taking in this place," growled another man.
"Maybe they have hove their hoards down the well!"
Now at that the sacristan gave a stifled groan of terror, and I
clutched my axe, ready for need.
"All right, go down and see!" answered one or two, but more in jest
than earnest.
Then one dropped a great stone in, and waited to hear it bubble
from the bottom, that he might judge the depth. Now no bubbles
came, or so soon that they were lost in the splash, and the prior
took some of the crumbling mortar from the cell walls, and cast it
in after a few moments. And that was a brave and crafty thing to
do, for it wrought well.
"Hear the bubble," said the Dane; "the well must be many a fathom
deep--how long it seemed before they came up!"
So they drank their fill, saying that it was useless to go down
therefore, and anyhow there would be naught but a few silver
vessels.
"I have seen the same before," said one; "and moreover no man has
luck with those things from a church."
No man gainsaid him, so they kicked the bucket down the well and
went away.
Now I breathed freely again, and was about to whisper to the prior
that his thought of making what would pass for bubbling was good;
but more Danes came. And they were men of Halfden's ship; so we
must wait and listen, and this time I thought that surely we were
to be found. For the men began to play with one another as they
drank from the bucket; pushing each other's heads therein, and the
helm of one fell off and fled past us to the bottom; and some words
passed pretty roughly. And after they had done quarrelling they
crowded over the trapdoor, as one might know by the darkening of
the shaft. Then one saw the helm, for it was of leather, iron
bound, and had fallen rim upward, so that it floated. Now one was
going to swarm down the rope to get it, but as he swung the rope to
him, the bucket swayed in the water under the helm, and he saw that
it did so. Whereon he wound both up, and they too went away.
"That was a lucky chance!" I whispered.
"No chance at all, my son; that was surely done by the same Hand
that sent you here to warn us," answered the prior. And I think
that he was right.
Now came a whiff of biting smoke down the well shaft, borne by some
breath of wind that eddied into it. The Danes had fired the place!
"Father," I whispered, pulling the prior forward, for he had gone
into the little cell to give thanks for this last deliverance.
He looked very grave as he saw the blue haze across the doorway,
hiding the moss and a tiny fern that grew on the shaft walls over
against us.
"This is what I feared, though I must needs make light of it," he
said.
"It cannot harm us here," I answered.
"All round this court on three sides the buildings are of wood;
sheds and storehouses they are and of no account, but if one falls
across the well mouth--what then?"
"Then we are like to be stifled," said I; for even now the smoke
grew thicker, even so far down as we were. And when I looked out
and up there was naught but smoke across the well mouth, and with
that, sparks.
"Pent up and stifled both," said the quavering voice of the
sacristan from behind us. "How may we get out of this place till
men come and raise the ruin that will cover us? And who knows we
are here but ourselves?"
"Forgive me for bringing you to this pass," said the prior gravely,
after a little silence.
The smoke grew even denser, and we must needs cough, while the
tears ran from my eyes, for the stinging oak smoke seemed trapped
when once it was driven down the well.
"I have known men escape from worse than this," I said, thinking of
Lodbrok, and turning over many wild plans in my mind.
"I had forgotten this danger of wooden walls," said the prior to
himself, as it were. "Doubtless when this well chamber was made it
was without the inclosure."
Now it seemed to me that this could not be borne much longer, and
that soon the walls he dreaded would fall. So as one might as well
die in one way as another, I thought I would climb to the well's
mouth and see if there were any chance of safety for these two
monks. Yet I had no thought of aught but dying with them, if need
were, though as for myself I had but to walk across the courtyard
and go away. The Danes would but think I lingered yet for the sake
of plunder.
"If we may not stand this smoke, neither can the Danes," I said. "I
am going to see."
So I set down my axe and sword and leapt sailor-wise at the
rope--which the men had dropped again when they had taken the helm
from the bucket--catching it easily and swarming up to the
trapdoor. I only raised myself to the height of my eyes and looked
out.
I could see nothing. The dense smoke eddied and circled round the
court, and the Danes were gone, leaving us in a ring of fire on
three sides. The wooden buildings were blazing higher every moment,
and the heat seemed to scorch my head and hands till I could
scarcely bear it. But as the wind drove aside the smoke I could see
that the way to the rear gate, the last we had barred, was clear.
So I slid down and hung opposite the chamber. The monks looked out
at me with white faces.
"It may be done," I said. "Come quickly! it is the only chance."
The prior gave me the rope-ladder end without a word, not needing
to be asked for it; nor did I wait to say more, for at that moment
a roof fell in with a great crash, and a red glare filled the well
as the flames shot up, and the sparks and bits of burning timber
came down the shaft and hissed into the water below me.
I clomb up, fixed the ladder, and called down to the prior to bring
my arms with him. There was a burning beam not three feet from the
well mouth, part of the fallen roof that had slipped sideways from
it. The flames that shot up from the building were so hot that I
could barely abide them, and I shaded my face with both my hands,
crying again to the monks to come quickly.
In a few seconds came the sacristan, white and trembling--I had to
help him out of the well mouth. The prior was close to him; he was
calm, and even smiled at me as he saw me clutch my arms eagerly.
"To the rear gate," I said, turning and kicking the ladder into the
well, and thinking how cool the splash was compared with this
furnace of heat. "Kilt up your frocks and go swiftly, but run not,"
for in that smoke, save their long garments betrayed them, a man
might be armed or unarmed for all that one could see.
So, walking quickly, we came to the court entrance, and even as we
stood under its archway the building nearest the well fell with a
crash and rumble, covering the well mouth with a pile of blazing
timber. The smoke and flame seemed to wrap us round, while the
burning timber flew, and the Danes from the great courtyard yelled
with evil delight; but before that cloud had cleared away we three
were outside the monastery gate, and were safe.
"Just in time," I said.
But "Deo gratias" said the monks in a breath.
"Now run," said I, and into the nearest spur of woodland we went,
and stayed not till we were beyond reach of the yells of the
destroyers, who, as it seemed, had not even seen us.
When we were sure that we were not pursued, the prior took my arm
and pressed it.
"Thanks to you, my son, our people are safe, and we have come out
of yon furnace unscathed. May you find help in time of need as near
and ready. Now when I read the story of the Three Children, I think
I shall know all that they suffered, for we have been in like
case."
And I could make no answer, for it seemed to me that I had
forgotten that I was a Christian of late. And that was true.
Now the prior bade the sacristan hasten to Chichester and tell all
this to the sheriff, and he left us, while we went on alone.
Presently I asked who made the chamber in the well, for the silence
weighed on me, and my thoughts were not so lightsome.
"Doubtless by Wilfrith's men," he said, "and for the same turn it
has served us. For in his days there were many heathen round him,
and flight or hiding might be the last resort at any time."
Then I wondered, saying that I deemed that surely it was a greater
thing to be a martyr and to die, than to save life.
"Not always so," he answered, and then he told me of the ways of
holy men of old time. "We may by no means save life by denying our
faith, but we are bidden to flee into another place when
persecuted. We may not choose the place of our death, nor yet the
time."
So he showed me at last what it was to be truly a martyr, fearing
not, nor yet seeking death.
"Of a truth," he ended, "the Lord may need my death by the hand of
the heathen at some time, and when the time comes I shall know it,
and will die gladly. But while He gives me the power to save life
blamelessly, I know that He needs me on earth yet, though I am of
little worth."
So we were silent after that, ever going on through the woods. At
last he laughed a little, and looked sidewise at me.
"We two are alone," he said, "therefore I do not mind saying that I
have been fairly afraid--how felt you?"
"I would I might never be so frightened again," I answered, for
truly I had made myself so at one with this brave man that I had
forgotten that there was little fear for myself, as I have said,
unless that it had been Rorik's crew who had found us, for only a
few of them knew me.
We came now to a place where the trees thinned away on the brow of
a hill, and I could see the broad waters of the haven through their
trunks. We had reached the crest of that little cliff over which
Wilfrith's heathen had cast themselves in the great famine from
which he saved them.
"Let us see the last of Bosham," the prior said sadly. So we crept
through the fern and long grass, and lying down looked out over
haven and village. Even if a prying Dane looked our way he would
hardly see us thus hidden, or if he did would take us but for
villagers and care not.
Now I saw that the tide was on the turn, and that Halfden's
ship--my own ship, as I have ever thought her--had hauled out, and
her boats waited for the last of the crew at the wharf side. But
Rorik's ship was there still, and her men were busy rigging a crane
of spars as though they would lower some heavy thing on board her.
Nor could I guess what that might be.
Then I looked at the village, which was burning here and there, and
at the monastery. They had not fired the church, and the Danes
clustered round the tower doorway, busied with something, and I
could see them well, for the smoke from the burning buildings blew
away from us.
Now I asked the prior what heavy things worth carrying away might
be in the monastery.
"Naught," he said; "since they have drunk all the ale that was in
the cask or two we had.
"But," he added, "there is the great bell, it is the only weighty
thing else."
Then I knew what was toward, and said:
"I fear, Father, that your bell is going to be taken to become
metal for mail shirts, and axe heads, and arrowheads, and helms."
"Holy St. Wilfrith!" cried the monk, in great grief; "would that we
could have saved it. There is no such bell in all England, and if
they take it, many a sailor will miss its call through fog and
driving mist, and many a shepherd on yonder downs will wait for its
ringing, and be the wearier for lack thereof."
"Never have I seen bell too large for one man to handle," I said;
"this must be a wondrous bell!"
So it was, he told me, and while we watched the busy Danes, he
began to sing to me in low tones the song of Bosham bell which his
people would sing by the fireside.
"Hard by the haven,
Wilfrith the holy
Bade men a bell tower
Sturdily build.
Thence should a bell sound
Over the wide seas,
Homeward to hail
The hardy shipmen.
Thus was the bell wrought
By skilful workmen:
Into the fierce fire,
When it was founded,
Helm and harness
The warriors hove;
Willingly women,
The jewel wearers,
Golden and silver gauds
Gave for the melting;
And a great anchor
The seamen added.
Thus was a wealth
Of wondrous metal.
When all was molten
More grew its marvel!
Cast in a chalice,
Cuthred the priest."
"Aye, Father," said I, "that is a wondrous bell."
He nodded, and went on, with his eyes fixed on the monastery.
"Thus as the bell swings
Soothly it speaketh:
Churchward it calleth
With voice of the chalice,
Speaking to shipmen
With voice that is sea born.
Homeward the husband
Hailing with voices
Fresh from the fireside,
Where flashed the gold gifts--
Clashing the war call,
Clear with its warrior voice."
"That was the voice of the bell that sounded as we came," I
thought; and even as I would have said it, the bell of Bosham spoke
again, and the prior stopped with an exclamation, and pointed.
Out of the gateway came four Danes, bearing the bell between them,
and as they crossed the threshold, one stumbled, and the bell
clanged as they dropped it on the courtyard pavement. The tears ran
down the holy man's face as he saw this mishap to his beloved bell,
which was kept bright as when it was first founded, by the loving
hands of his people.
Now the Danes put it on that farm cart I had seen, and which they
had mended, and took the bell down to the wharf, and we watched
them sling it to the crane they had rigged, and place it amidships
on deck. Then they all went hastily on board, and put out into the
haven, down which Halfden's ship was already a mile distant, and
dancing on the quick waves of wind against tide where the waters
broadened into a wide lake.
Now when the ship was fairly under way, the prior rose up from
beside me, and lifting his hand, cursed ship and crew with so great
and bitter a curse that I trembled and looked to see the ship
founder at once, so terrible were his words.
Yet the ship held on her course, and the words seemed vain and
wasted, though I know not so certainly that they were so. For this
is what I saw when the ship met the waves of that wider stretch of
water that Halfden had now crossed.
She pitched sharply, and there was a bright gleam of sunlight from
the great bell's polished sides, and then another--and the ship
listed over to starboard and a wave curled in foam over her
gunwale. Then she righted again quickly, and as though relieved of
some weight, yet when a heavier, crested roller came on her she
rose to it hardly at all, and it broke on board her. And at that
she sank like a stone, and I could hear the yell that her men gave
come down the wind to me.
Then all the water was dotted with men for a little, and the bright
red and white of her sail floated on the waves for a minute, and
then all that was left of her were the masthead and yard--and on
them a few men. The rest were gone, for they were in their mail,
and might not swim. Only a few yet clung to floating oars and the
like.
"Little have these heathen gained from Bosham," said the prior, and
his eyes flashed with triumph. "Wilfrith the holy has punished
their ill doing."
So, too, it seemed to me, and I thought to myself that the weight
of that awesome curse had indeed fallen on the robbers.
Yet I know that, as I watched the ship in her trouble, in my own
mind I had been going over what was amiss, as any seaman will,
without thought of powers above. And I thought that the sharp
pitching of the vessel had cast the great bell from amidships,
where I had seen the Danes place it unsecured, against the frail
gunwale, first to one side, and then, with greater force yet,
against the other; so that it burst open gunwale and planking
below, and already she was filling when the wave came and ended
all. For these swift viking ships are built to take no heavy cargo,
and planks and timbers are but bound together by roots and withies;
so that as one stands on the deck one may feel it give and spring
to the blow of a wave, and the ship is all the swifter. But though
the outer planking is closely riveted together with good iron, that
could not withstand the crashing weight of so great a bell when it
was thus flung against it.
However that may have been--and thus I surely think it was--Bosham
bell passed not into the power of the heathen, but destroyed them;
and it lies at the bottom of the deepest reach of the haven whence
the depth and swiftness of the tide will hardly let men bring it
again. So I suppose that, profaned by heathen hands, it may no
longer call men from across the water and woodland to the church of
God.
Soon came the boats from Halfden's ship and picked up those who yet
clung to what they might of the wreck, and then ship and Danes
passed from Bosham haven, leaving the silent tower and burning
village to mark where they had been.
Then the prior sighed, and turning away, said:
"Let us go to Chichester and find shelter. Night comes soon, and
rest."
Sadly enough we went, though not for long: for when we came into
the roadway from the forest land, the prior put his heavy thoughts
aside, and spoke cheerfully to me.
"What is done is done; and but for you, my son, things would have
been worse. And their greed for the bell has made them spare the
church itself. Surely you must have fallen from the clouds to help
us--borne hither from the East Anglian land whose tongue bewrays
you."
"I marvel that you trusted me," I said.
"I trusted your face, my son, and when one is in a hard case the
first help is ever the best. Yet now I would fain know somewhat of
my good comrade."
Now I think that to any but this monk, with his friendly smile and
way of quiet authority, I should have been ashamed to own my part
with the Danes. But a few hours of companionship in danger knit
closer than many a long day of idleness together, and he seemed to
me as a near friend. Moreover, he had trusted me without question;
so I told him all my tale and he listened patiently.
"Now I am glad that I cursed not your friend's ship--for I forgot
her," he said, smiling.
At that I was glad, for how he would hold my being with the heathen
I somewhat doubted, and I told him so.
"Why, my son, I know not that you had much choice. And as for
fighting against outlanders--let me heft that axe of yours."
He took it, and it fell into his hands in a way that told me that
he, too, had been a stark fighting man at some time.
"Take it away, my son, take it away!" he cried, thrusting it back
on me; "I am not the man to blame you. And I know that much good
has come to us from your being with them. And from your talk about
martyrs I know that you have done no honour to their gods."
I said truly that the question had never come into my mind. For,
save as oath or war cry, the names of Thor and Odin were not heard.
They sacrificed on going to sea, and on return; and meanwhile cared
naught, so far as I knew, for none had questioned my faith.
He said it was well, and so talking we went on. And he said that, as
friend of his, none would question me, so that I should find all I
needed for my journey in the town. And when we came there--meeting
the sheriff's ill-armed levy on the way--we went to the house of a
great thane, and there were well and kindly received.
Yet once and again as I slept I dreamed and woke with the cry of
Rorik's men in my ears, and before me the bell seemed to flash
again as it crashed through the ship's side. And once I woke
thinking that the smell of burning was round me, and felt, half
awake, for the stone walls of the well chamber. But at last I slept
soundly and peacefully.