BY TETFORD STREAM.
In the early morning Alsi set his men in order in the valley, and
seemed to wait for us to come down to him, for it was of no use to try
to take the strong camp which sheltered us. And so, after council held,
we did not keep him waiting, but left the hill and marched on him. We
had the camp to fall back on if things went the wrong way, and beyond
that the road to the sea and the ships was open, with a chance of
meeting Ragnar on the way, moreover.
Very long and deep seemed the line as we neared it, and it was formed
on the banks of a stream that runs down the valley, so that we must
cross the water to attack. But the stream was shallow now with the
August heat, and it was not much sunk between its banks.
When he saw that, Sigurd, who was a man of many fights, said that we
had better send the marshmen round to fall on the wings of the foe,
while we went straight for the centre of the line in the wedge
formation that the Viking loves. For so we should have no trouble in
crossing the stream, and should cut the force against us in two.
So the two Welsh thanes led their wild levies out on either side of us
Danes, who were in the centre, and then we formed the wedge. Havelok
himself would have gone first of all at its point: but that we would
not suffer, for if he fell the battle was lost at its beginning.
“Nay,” he said, “for we fight for Goldberga.”
“And what would she say were we to set you foremost of us all?” asked
Withelm. “Little love were there to either of you in that. You are the
heart of the host, and one shields that although it gives strength to
all the hands which obey it.”
So Withelm and Arngeir and I went foremost, and behind us came the
courtmen, and in the midst of their shield wall was Havelok, with Raven
and the banner at his side. After them, rank on rank and with
close-locked shields, was such a force as had not been seen in Lindsey
for many a long day. Alsi’s men grew very silent as they saw us come
on, until we reached, through a storm of arrows that could not stay us,
the bank of the stream, and then they raised a war song that roared and
thundered among the hills as though the tide was coming up the valley
in one great wave. But we saved our breath until the first of us were
on the banks of the stream, and then I shouted, and with a great shout
of “Ahoy!” in answer, we charged through the stream and up the far
bank, where Alsi’s spearmen waited for us.
They crowded together as they saw how narrow our front was, and there
was a hedge of steel before us three brothers; but the spear is not the
weapon to use if one would check the onrush of the Northman’s wedge,
and shield and axe between them dashed and hewed a way to the men who
got to their swords too late, and then we were in the midst of Alsi’s
line, with the gap that we had made widening behind us with each step
that we took forward.
Now it was sheer hewing at the mass who crowded on us; and I mind how
we seemed to fight in silence, although the battle cries were
unceasing, and waxed ever louder; for it was as when one walks by the
shore and thinks not at all of the noise of breakers that never ends.
Now and then there was one shout that was new, and it seemed to be the
only voice. Most of all, the noise grew on the wings where the savage
Welsh fell on their masters and ancient foes in wild tumult.
We tried to cut our way to Alsi, for we could see him as he sat on his
horse—the only mounted man in all the hosts; but we could not reach
him. And presently the time came when we who were foremost must let
fresh men take our places. Sigurd stepped to my side, and Withelm fell
back, and another took the place of Arngeir, and then my turn came, and
we went slowly from the front to where the hollow centre of the wedge
gave us rest. Only a few arrows fell there now and then; but the time
for using bows was past, seeing that we were hand to hand with all the
Lindsey host. And then I saw that Sigurd had done what we had failed
in, for he had reached the shield wall that was round the king himself.
And for a moment I was savage that the chance came to him so soon after
I had left the fighting line; but then I minded that Eglaf, my friend,
would be there, and I was glad that I need not cross swords with him
after all. I had thought of that happening before the fight began, but
in the turmoil of hottest struggle I had forgotten it.
Now Sigurd was before the thick mass of the housecarls, and hand to
hand with them; and then he was among them, and he leapt at the bridle
of Alsi’s horse and grasped it. I saw the king’s sword flash down on
his helm, and he reeled under the stroke, but without letting go of the
rein. Then the housecarls made a rush, and bore back our men, and the
horse reared suddenly. There was a wild shout, and the war saddle was
empty; and again our men surged forward, so that I could not see what
had happened.
But now our Welshmen had been beaten back from the wings—not easily,
but for want of training—and they were forced back across the brook,
and there held our bank well, giving way no step further. The water
kept them in an even front, against their will, as it were; and Alsi’s
men charged them in vain, knee deep in the stream that ran red. But
that let loose the men who had been held back from us; and now we were
overborne by numbers, and we began to go back. That was the worst part
of the whole fight, and the hardest hour of all the battle, as may be
supposed, for the wedge grew closer, as it was forced together by sheer
weight. None ever broke into it.
Presently our rear was on the water’s edge, and it seemed likely that
in crossing there might be a breaking of the line; and when he saw
that, Havelok called to me, and he went to the front with the courtmen
round him. It was good to hear the cheers of our men as they saw the
dancing banner above the fight, and beneath it, in the bright sun, the
gold-circled helm of their king. The Lindseymen drew back a foot’s pace
as they saw the giant who came on them, and I heard some call that this
was Curan of Grimsby, as if in wonder. Then we had to fight hard, and
Sigurd fell back past me, with a wound on his shoulder where Alsi’s
sword had glanced from the helm. No life had been left to Sigurd had a
better hand wielded the weapon; but he was not badly hurt. I could not
see Alsi anywhere, nor Eglaf.
Steadily the numbers drove us back, though before Havelok was always a
space into which men hardly dared to come. The wedge was pushed away
from us, and we had to fall back with it, until we crossed the stream;
and there Sigurd swung the massed men into line, and then came the
first pause in the fight. The two hosts stood, with the narrow water
between them, and glared on each other, silent now. And then the bowmen
began to get to work from either side, until the arrows were all gone.
Now Havelok called to the foe, and they were silent while he spoke to
them.
“Is Alsi yet alive?” he said; “for if not, I have no war with his men.
If he is, let me speak with him.”
None answered for a while, and the men looked at each other as if they
knew not if the man they were fighting for lived or not.
Then one came forward and said, “Alsi lives, and we have not done with
you yet. Get you back to your home beyond the sea!”
And then they charged us again; but the water was a better front for us
than it had been for them, and across it they could not win. We drove
them back once and twice; and again came a time when both sides were
wearied and must needs rest.
So it went on until night fell. We never stirred from that water’s
edge, and the stream was choked with valiant English and hardy Danes;
and yet the attacks came with the shout of “Out! out!” and the answer
from us of “Havelok, ahoy!”
At last one who seemed a great chief came and cried a truce, for night
was falling; and he said that if Havelok would claim no advantage
therefrom, the men of Lindsey would get back from the field, and leave
it free for us to take our fallen.
“But I must have your word that with the end of that task you go back
to the place you now hold, that we may begin afresh, if it seems good
to us, in the morning.”
Then said Havelok, “That is well spoken, and I cannot but agree. Who
are you, however, for I must know that this is said with authority?”
“I am the Earl of Chester,” he answered. “Alsi has set the leading of
the host in my hands, for he is hurt somewhat.”
“I did not think that Mercians would have troubled to fight to uphold
Alsi of Lindsey in his ways with his niece,” Havelok said.
“What is that?” said the earl. “Hither came I for love of fighting,
maybe, in the first place; and next to drive out certain Vikings. I
know naught of the business of which you speak.”
“Then,” said I, “go and ask Eglaf, the captain of the housecarls, for
he knows all about it. We are no raiding Danes, but those who fight for
Goldberga of East Anglia.”
At that a hum of voices went down the English line, and this earl bit
his lip in doubt.
“Well,” he said, “that is Alsi’s affair, and I will speak to him. We
have had a good fight, and I will not say that either of us has the
best of it. Shall it be as I have said?”
“Ay,” answered Havelok; and the earl drew off his men for half a mile,
and in the gathering dusk we crossed the brook, and went on our errand
across the field. It was not hard to find our men, for they lay in a
great wedge as we had fought. There had been no straggling from that
array, and no break had been made in its lines. Alsi had lost more than
we, for his men had beaten against that steel wall in vain, and the
arms of the Northman are better than those of any other nation.
We took the wounded back to the camp, and there Goldberga and the wives
of our English thanes tended them; and as we gathered up the slain the
Lindsey men were among us at the same work, and we spoke to them as if
naught was amiss between us, nor any fight to begin again in the
morning. And then we learned how few knew what we had come for. It was
with them as with the Earl of Chester. They had no knowledge of
Goldberga’s homecoming, and least of all thought that at the back of
the trouble were the wiles of Alsi. It was two years ago that Goldberga
had gone, and her wedding had seemed to end her story. Now the men
heard and wondered; and it is said that very many left Alsi that night
and went home, angry with him for his falsehood.
Now when all was done we sought rest, and weary we were. I will say for
myself that I did not feel like fighting next morning at all, for I was
tired out, and the one or two wounds that I had were getting sorely
stiff. Raven was much in the same case, and grumbled, sailor-wise, at
the weight of the banner and aught else that came uppermost in his
mind. Yet I knew that he would be the first to go forward again when
the time came.
The host slept on their arms along the bank of the stream through the
hot night, and the banner was pitched in their midst. Soon the moon
rose, and only the footsteps of the sentries along our front went up
and down, while across the water was the same silence; for both hosts
were wearied out, and each had learned that the other were true men,
and there was no mistrust on either side. When the light came once more
we should fight to prove who were the best men at arms, and with no
hatred between us.
Presently the mists crept up from the stream and wreathed the sleepers
on either bank with white, swaying clouds, and I mind that the last
thought I had before I closed my eyes was that my armour would be
rusted by the clinging damp—as if it were not war-stained from helm to
deerskin shoe already with stains that needed more cleansing than any
rust.
Then I waked suddenly, for someone went past me, and I sat up to see
who it might be. The moon was very bright and high now, but the figure
that I saw wading in the white mist was shadowy, and I could not tell
who it was. And then another and yet another figure came from the rear
of our line, and passed among the sleeping ranks, and joined the first
noiselessly; and after a little while many came, hurrying, and they
formed up on the bank of the stream into the mighty wedge. And I feared
greatly, for not one of the sleepers stirred as the warriors went among
us, and I had looked on the faces of those who passed me, and I knew
that they were the dead whom I had seen the men gather even now and lay
in their last rank beyond our line.
Then I saw that on the far bank was gathered another host, and that was
of Alsi’s men, and among them I knew the forms of some who had fallen
in the first onset when I led the charge.
I tried to put forth my hand to wake Withelm, but I could not stir, and
when I would have spoken, I could frame no word, so that alone in all
the host I saw the slain men fight their battle over again, step by
step. The wedge of the Northmen won to the far shore as we had won—as
they had won in life but a few hours ago—and into the line of foemen
they cut their way, and on the far side of the stream they stayed and
fought, as it had been in the battle. Yet though one could see that the
men shouted and cried, there was no sound at all, and among the wildest
turmoil walked the sentries of Alsi’s host unconcerned and unknowing.
And to me they seemed to be the ghosts, and the phantom strife that
which was real.
Then I was ware of a stranger thing yet than all I had seen so far, for
on the field were more than those whom I knew. There stood watching on
either side of the battle two other ghostly hosts, taking no part in
the struggle, but watching it as we had watched from our place when we
fell back into the rear to rest, pointing and seeming to cheer strokes
that were good and deeds that were valiant. And I knew that these were
men who had fought and died on this same field in older days, for on
one side were the white-clad Britons, and on the other the stern,
dark-faced Romans, steel and bronze from head to foot.
So the battle went onward to where we had won and had been pressed
back; and then, little by little, the hosts faded away, and with them
went the watchers, and surely across the field went the quick gallop of
no earthly steeds, the passing to Odin of the choosers of the slain,
the Valkyries.
Then came across the brook to me one through the mist, and the sentries
paid no heed to him, and he came to my side and spoke to me. It was
Cadwal, the Welsh thane, and his breast was gashed so that I thought
that he could not have lived.
“Ay, I am dead,” he said, “as men count death, and yet I would have
part in victory over Alsi, for the sake of Havelok and of Goldberga.
Stay up my body on the morrow, that I may seem to fight at least, that
I may bide in the ranks once more in the day of victory. Little victory
have the British seen since Hengist came. Say that you will do this.”
Then he looked wistfully at me, and I gave him some token of assent;
and at that came back all the shadows of our men, and seemed to pray
the same. And then was a stir of feet near me, and a shadow across the
trampled grass, and instead of the dead the voice of Havelok spoke
softly to me, and with him was Goldberga, clad in her mail. And I
thought that they and I were slain also, and I cried to this one who
seemed to be one of Odin’s maidens that I too would fain be stayed up
with Cadwal and the rest, that I might have part in victory.
Then Goldberga stooped to me, and laid her soft hand on my forehead,
and took off my helm, so that the air came to me, and thereat I woke
altogether.
“Brother,” she said, “you are restless and sorely wounded, as it seems.
It is not good that you should lie in this mist.”
At her voice the others woke, and for a while she talked with us in a
low tone, cheering us. And presently she asked of that strange request
that I had made to her.
I told her, for it was a message that should not be kept back, thus
given; and when he heard it, Withelm sighed a little, and said, “Would
that we had all those who have fallen. Yet if it is as they have asked
our brother, our host will seem as strong as before we joined battle in
the morning. Leave this to me, brother, for it may be done.”
Then he rose up and went softly to where Idrys, the friend of Cadwal,
lay, and spoke long with him. It was true that Cadwal was slain, though
I had not yet heard of it until he told me himself thus.
Then I slept heavily, while the others talked for a while. It is a hard
place at a wedge tip when Englishmen are against one; and I am not much
use in a council. Presently they would wake me if my word was wanted.
But it was not needed, for the sunlight woke me. There was a growing
stir in our lines and across the water also, and I looked round. The
mists were yet dense, for there was not enough breeze to stir the heavy
folds of the banner, and Raven slept still with his arm round its
staff. Havelok was not here now, and I thought that he had gone to the
camp with Goldberga, and would be back shortly.
Then I saw that our rear rank was already formed up, as I thought, and
that is not quite the order of things, as a rule, and it seemed far off
from the stream. I thought that they should have asked me about this,
for there were some of my courtmen in that line.
And then I saw that in the line was no movement, and no flash of arms,
as when one man speaks to another, turning a little. And before that
line stood the form of a chief who leant on his broad spear, motionless
and seeming watchful. I knew him at once, and it was Cadwal, and those
he commanded were the dead. That was even to me an awesome sight, for
in the mists they seemed ready and waiting for the word that would
never come to their ears, resting on the spears that they could use no
more. It had been done by the marshmen in the dark hours of the
morning, and from across the stream I saw Alsi’s men staring at the new
force that they thought had come to help us. There were men enough
moving along our bank with food to us to prevent them seeing that this
line stirred not at all.
There was a scald who came with us from Denmark, and now with the full
rising of the sun he took his harp and went along the stream bank
singing the song of Dunheidi fight and so sweet was his voice, and so
strong, that even Alsi’s men gathered to hearken to him. His name was
Heidrek, and he has set all that he saw with Havelok into a saga; but
we, here, mostly remember the brave waking that he gave us that
morning. It was wonderful how the bright song cheered us. One saw that
the stiffened limbs shook themselves into litheness once more, and the
listless faces brightened, and into the hearts that were heavy came new
hope, and that was the song’s work.
Now men began to jest with their foes across the stream, and those who
had Danish loaves threw them across in exchange for English, that they
might have somewhat to talk of. Ours were rye, and theirs of barley;
but it was not a fair change after ours had been so long a voyage.
It was not long before our war horns sounded for the mustering, and men
ran to their arms. The Lindsey host drew back from the talk with our
men at the same time, and, without waiting for word from their leaders,
began to get in line along the stream, where they had been when we
halted last night. But we had no thought of falling on them until we
had had some parley with the king or the Earl of Chester. And now it
was plain that with the grim rearguard behind us we outnumbered the men
of Alsi who were left.
Now came from the village in rear of the foe a little company, in the
midst of which was one horseman, and that was the king himself. His arm
was slung to his breast, and he sat his horse weakly, so that it was
true enough that he had been hurt. With him were the earl and Eglaf,
and the housecarls, and I sent one to fetch Havelok quickly, that there
might be no delay in the words that were to be said.
Alsi rode to the water’s edge and looked out over our host, and his
white face became whiter, and his thin lips twitched as he saw that our
line was no weaker than it had seemed when first he saw it. He spoke to
the earl, and he too counted the odds before him, and he smiled a
little to himself. He had not much to say to Alsi.
Then broke out a thunderous cheer from all our men, for with Havelok
and Sigurd at her horse’s rein, and with Withelm’s courtmen of her own
guard behind her, came Goldberga the queen to speak with the man who
had broken his trust. She had on her mail, as on the day when we ended
Hodulf; and she rode to the centre of our line, and there stayed, with
a flush on her cheek that the wild shouts of our men had called there.
Then I heard the name of “Goldberga, Goldberga!” run down the English
line, and I saw Alsi shrink back into himself, as it were; and then
some Lincoln men close to him began to grow restless, and all at once
they lifted their helms and cheered also, and that cheer was taken up
by all the host, as it seemed, until the ring of hills seemed alive
with voices. And with that Alsi half turned his horse to fly.
Yet his men did not mean to leave him. It was but the hailing of the
lady whom they knew, and her coming thus was more than the simple
warriors had wit or mind to fathom. But now Goldberga held up her hand,
and the cries ceased, and silence came. Then she lifted her voice,
clear as a silver bell, and said, “It seems strange to me that English
folk should be fighting against me and my husband’s men who have
brought me home. I would know the meaning of this, King Alsi, for it
would seem that your oath to my father is badly kept. Maybe I have
thought that the people would not have me in his place; but their voice
does not ring in those shouts, for which I thank them with all my
heart, as if they hated me. Now, therefore, I myself ask that my
guardian will give up to me that which is my own.”
We held our peace, but a hum of talk went all through the English
ranks. The Earl of Chester sat down on the bank, and set his sword
across his knees, and began to tie the peace strings round the hilt, in
token that he was going to fight no more. Now and then he looked at
Goldberga, and smiled at her earnest face. But Alsi made no sign of
answer.
Then the queen spoke again to him.
“There must be some reason why you have thus set a host in arms against
me,” she said, “and what that may be I would know.”
Then, as Alsi answered not at all, the earl spoke frankly.
“We were told that we had to drive out the Vikings, and I must say that
they do not go easily. But it was not told us that they came here to
right a wrong, else had I not fought.”
Many called out in the same words, and then sat down as the earl had
done.
And at last Alsi spoke for himself.
“We do not fight against you, my niece, but against the Danes. We
cannot have them in the country.”
“They do not mean to bide here, but they will not go before my throne
is given to me. Never came a foreign host into a land in more friendly
wise than this of mine.”
At that Alsi’s face seemed to clear, and his forced smile came to him.
He looked round on the thanes who were nearest him, and coughed, and
then answered, “Here has been some mistake, my niece, and it has cost
many good lives. If it is even as you say, get you to your land of
Anglia, and there shall be peace. I myself will send word to Ragnar
that he shall hail you as queen.”
Then up spoke a new voice, and it was one that I knew well.
“No need to do that, lord king,” said Berthun the cook. “Here have I
come posthaste, and riding day and night, to say that Ragnar is but a
day’s march from here, that he and all Norfolk may see that their queen
comes to her own.”
Then Alsi’s face grew ashy pale, and without another word he swung his
horse round and went his way. I saw him reel in the saddle before he
had gone far, and Eglaf set his arm round him and stayed him up. After
him Goldberga looked wistfully, for she was forgiving, and had fain
that he had spoken one word of sorrow. But none else heeded him, for
now the thanes, led by the earl himself, came thronging across the
water, that they might ask forgiveness for even seeming to withstand
Goldberga. And on both sides the men set down their arms, and began to
pile mighty fires, that the peace made should not want its handfasting
feast.
For the fair princess had won her own, and there was naught but
gladness.