_The Passing of Ethelred the King_
Now, though the men of Wessex had beaten the Danes with a great
slaughter at the battle of Ashdune, little rest did the weary land have
from the war-song, but day by day the sword gleamed and the red flames
roared, and the Black Strangers came in foraying bands.
Like the leaves before the wind, like the snow on the northern blast,
so did the Danes seem to gather, until even the boldest and the bravest
felt their hearts fail, and asked each other what could be done to free
the land from these savage, barbarian invaders, who seemed like to
swamp the whole world and plunge it back into paganism again.
And now the men of Mercia, and those of Northumbria and Cantua,
had occasion to lament that they had not joined with Wessex, and,
forgetting their own quarrels, striven side by side against the common
foe. For to every part of the fair land the Danes marched, and their
pathway was death and ruin, and of them the English said--
"Of what use is it to war against them, for if there be thirty thousand
slain to-day, there will be twice thirty thousand in their place
to-morrow?"
Yet, for all that, did Ethelred the King, and Alfred his brother,
fight as brave men should, calling upon all their men to trust in the
Lord and be of good cheer; and, whilst in other parts of the land the
invaders were striking terror to all hearts, in the land of the West
Saxons they were frequently driven back and put to flight.
But it was hard work and sad; for the hands of the strongest must grow
weary, and the hearts of the mightiest must fail sometimes; and there
was no rest for King or for Prince. To-day they would face the foe
in one place, and the next they would be in rapid march to strike an
unexpected blow in quite another direction.
But the land wept, for there was no corn sown and no harvest to reap,
because men said that there was little wisdom in sowing fields that
were to be trampled down in the war game, or in storing in barns,
through which the red flames might leap.
Oh! those were sad days, when hunger and despair and battle were on
every hand; and still, on and on the Danes pressed, and their long
ships were on every coast and barring all the rivers, and even floating
up to London itself.
And a merry game did Wulnoth and his robber companions play, though
alas, now of that fifty but half remained. To-day here, to-morrow
there, hurrying at the King's behest, enduring fatigue and peril with
laughter, and doing hero deeds that rivalled the best of the Danish
holdas' achievements.
Little of Edgiva did Wulnoth see in those days, but at night, when he
rested with his band in the forest depths, or lay counting the watchful
stars, then he would think of his Princess, and in fancy see her face,
and he would dream a good dream of the days that should be, when
England was England once more.
Yet never did he forget the friend of his boyhood and the promise he
had made; and he wondered when and how he should ever obtain tidings of
Guthred the Prince.
"I can go but one step at a time," he murmured to himself. "This
helping of Alfred is the first thing, and afterwards we will think of
what may follow it." And then he would sit by the watch fire, while
his rough companions lay around; and he would think, and think, of the
White Christ, and the wonder story of His great love, and His death on
the cross; and now he no longer called it a nithing tale, but thought
it beautiful as the best of the sagas; and though he said naught of it
to any, nor even let Edgiva know when he saw her, Wulnoth was beginning
to understand, and to see that the Lord Christ was the mightiest, and
the greatest, and the best, and indeed the very Bretwalda of all the
angels.
But little time was there for thinking even on that matter; for it was
fight, fight, day by day; now hunted, and now hunting--at this moment
the Raven of Odin victorious, and the next the banner of Ethelred
triumphant.
And in one battle did the forces meet at a place called Merton, not
far from Ashdune; and there, while they strove, and now to one side
now to the other the victory inclined, Ethelred the King was smitten
by a spear, and fell wounded from his horse; and Wulnoth, and Osric,
and Alfred, raised him up tenderly, and bore him from the field of
slaughter, and then rushed back and threw themselves upon the foe,
fighting fiercely until, when the evening shadows came, the Danes were
glad to retire; for they had met with those who could strive as well as
themselves.
And then did the Saxons take their wounded King; and, commanded by
Alfred, they retreated swiftly and silently, and with hearts bowed down
by sadness, so that they might find a place where the King could rest
in safety.
And then did the King call his brother the Atheling to his side, and he
spoke with him tenderly, and bade him be comforted.
"How could man die better than face to foe, striving for his country,
and for the blessed Truth, dear brother?" he said. "Now I am wounded
sore, and my spirit tells me that I shall die; and for that my heart
rejoices, for by dying shall I gain a better crown than one of earthly
power, and by death shall I enter into life."
And Alfred bowed his head and wept, for his heart was very sore now;
and Wulnoth stood by, for his it was to guard the King's tent, and he
wondered yet more and more; for here was a second King dying, and he
also, like as Edmund had done, spoke of victory and life, and seemed
glad and happy, and not like those of the Danes and the Old Saxons, who
only spoke of going to the dark storm-land.
But they could not tarry long where the King lay, for the foe pressed
too hard; and so they hurried southwards, and the army broke into small
parties, that they might travel the more swiftly and securely. And so
they came south by Winchester, the King's town, and even there they
did not stay, but passed on into the land of Durnovaria, or as we now
call it Dorchester. And there did the King tarry, for he was too sick
to journey farther, though there was some talk of reaching the sea,
and sending him afar into safety. But his wounds were bad, and his
strength was gone, and his mind weary for his kingdom, and for the land
at large, and for the faith of the Lord; and he knew that he must soon
pass hence, and be at peace.
And to him came his aged mother Osburga, whom neither grief, nor peril,
nor weariness could conquer; and she, and the Abbot Hugoline, and
Alfred, they tended the King in his last hours of pain and sorrow, and
whispered words of good cheer to him, while Osric, and Ethelred the
Ealdorman, went back with the forces, and made another stand against
the foe, who pursued hard upon their track.
And there did King Ethelred breathe his last, and commit his soul into
the keeping of his Saviour; and from there did they carry his body to
the minster at Wimborne, and there did they bury the King.
And Alfred the Atheling had the crown placed upon his head, and became
Alfred the King; and of all Saxon Kings, did he prove the best, and the
bravest, and the wisest; so that in after days his fame was sung and
he was called "The Great Thane" and "The Bretwalda of the English" and
"The Shepherd of his people."
Yet on that very day whereon he was crowned did Wulnoth the Wanderer
come upon him in the church; and lo, he knelt, and he prayed, and as
he prayed he wept; and Wulnoth spoke with the King, for Alfred made a
friend of the Wanderer, and he asked him why he wept.
"Thou art King now, and thou hast a kingdom, and thou hast men to
fight, and thou thyself art a warrior; wherefore, then, dost thou weep,
O King?"
"Heavy is it to be a King, friend," the monarch answered, "and weary is
the land wherein battle is ever raging; and great is the stewardship
which I have. Therefore, I kneel in humbleness, and with tears I ask
Him for help and for grace, that I may do my work and receive my
reward."
"O King!" cried Wulnoth. "If thy God is the mightiest of gods, why does
he not drive out the Danes, and scatter their host? I am puzzled, of a
truth, O King, for I understand not this thing."
"And couldst thou understand all God's ways, then wouldst thou be as
wise as God. Does the warrior understand all his captain's plans? Nay,
he receives his order, and he obeys his command, and he trusts his
captain enough to know that each order is given for a reason. So is it
with us, O Wanderer. We trust and we obey, and the end is with Him. His
ways are greater than our ways, and His thoughts than our thoughts."
Sad and solemn was the crowning of the King, for there was no pomp and
stately show now, as there had been of yore. Scarcely had he thanes
to stand around him; scarcely had he people to aid him; there was no
time for such empty things as pageant now; for almost ere the body of
King Ethelred was laid to its rest, there came tidings of new and fresh
hosts of Danes sweeping over the land.
And bitter was it for Mercia then; for the Black Strangers became as a
terror to the bravest, and all men trembled at their name.
Across the country to Lindum[7] they swept; and from the sea other
hosts poured into the land. They attacked and drove out King Burhred,
and placed one named Ceolwulf in his place, as under-lord. Black and
bitter was the treason of Ceolwulf the Thane, who had been Burhred's
thane; for he, a Saxon, became a servant of the Danes; and of him it is
said that he was fiercer than his masters, so that the land was laid
waste.
And farther north, in Northumbria, the whole land was covered with the
foe; and there Halfdane, whom some called Hungwar's brother, led his
forces and destroyed without ruth as he went, burning every church and
monastery, and even the beautiful cathedral of Lindisfarne; and while
the flames roared, and the sword sang, the wail of women, and the
shriek of tortured little children, rose to mingle with it, and hope
and faith died out in the land.
But down in Wessex, still the light shone, and still brave hearts
resisted; though often it was hard and bitter work, and from being able
to stand before the Danes, the forces frequently had to hurry, driven
from place to place, yet ever inspired by the King to fresh courage and
endeavor.
And in those days did Wulnoth do mighty deeds, and earn himself a name
amongst men, for being a hero; so that the Danes knew and feared; and
Hungwar himself trembled; for he knew that the day would come when he
and Wulnoth would meet face to face; and then it would be a bitter day
and dark for him.
Now, this is how King Ethelred was wounded in battle, and died of
his wounds; and this is how the crown passed to Alfred the Atheling,
and the whole land, from north to south, was overrun by the Black
Strangers, and given to fire and sword.