REASSEMBLING OF THE ARMY.
Ethelney, though its precise locality can not now be certainly
ascertained, was in the southwestern part of England, in
Somersetshire, which county lies on the southern shore of the Bristol
Channel. There is a region of marshes in that vicinity, which
tradition assigns as the place of Alfred's retreat; and there was,
about the middle of this century, a farmhouse there, which bore the
name of Ethelney, though this name may have been given to it in modern
times by those who imagined it to be the ancient locality. A jewel of
gold, engraved as an amulet to be worn about the neck, and inscribed
with the Saxon words which mean "Alfred had me made," was found in the
vicinity, and is still carefully preserved in a museum in England.
Some curious antiquarians profess to find the very hillock, rising out
of the low grounds around, where the herdsman that entertained Alfred
so long lived; but this, of course is all uncertain. The peculiarities
of the spot derived their character from the morasses and the woods,
and the courses of the sluggish streams in the neighborhood, and these
are elements of landscape scenery which ten centuries of time and of
cultivation would entirely change.
Whatever may have been the precise situation of the spot, instead of
being, as at first, a mere hiding-place and retreat, it became, before
many months, as was intimated in the last chapter, a military camp,
secluded and concealed, it is true, but still possessing, in a
considerable degree, the characteristics of a fastness and place of
defense. Alfred's company erected something which might be called a
wall. They built a bridge across the water where the herdsman's boat
had been accustomed to ply. They raised two towers to watch and guard
the bridge. All these defenses were indeed of a very rude and simple
construction; still, they answered the purpose intended. They afforded
a real protection; and, more than all, they produced a certain moral
effect upon the minds of those whom they shielded, by enabling them
to consider themselves as no longer lurking fugitives, dependent for
safety on simple concealment, but as a garrison, weak, it is true, but
still gathering strength, and advancing gradually toward a condition
which would enable them to make positive aggressions upon the enemy.
The circumstance which occurred to hasten the development of Alfred's
plans, and which was briefly alluded to at the close of the last
chapter, was the following: It seems that quite a large party of
Danes, under the command of a leader named Hubba, had been making a
tour of conquest and plunder in Wales, which country was on the other
side of the Bristol Channel, directly north of Ethelney, where Alfred
was beginning to concentrate a force. He would be immediately exposed
to an attack from this quarter as soon as it should be known that he
was at Ethelney, as the distance across the Channel was not great, and
the Danes were provided with shipping.
Ethelney was in the county called Somersetshire. To the southwest
of Somersetshire, a little below it, on the shores of the Bristol
Channel, was a castle, called Castle Kenwith, in Devonshire. The
Duke of Devonshire, who held this castle, encouraged by Alfred's
preparations for action, had assembled a considerable force here, to
be ready to co-operate with Alfred in the active measures which he was
about to adopt. Things being in this state, Hubba brought down his
forces to the northern shores of the Channel, collected together all
the boats and shipping that he could command, crossed the Channel,
and landed on the Devonshire shore. Odun, the duke, not being strong
enough to resist, fled, and shut himself up, with all his men, in the
castle. Hubba advanced to the castle walls, and, sitting down before
them, began to consider what to do.
Hubba was the last surviving son of Ragner Lodbrog, whose deeds and
adventures were related in a former chapter. He was, like all other
chieftains among the Danes, a man of great determination and energy,
and he had made himself very celebrated all over the land by his
exploits and conquests. His particular horde of marauders, too, was
specially celebrated among all the others, on account of a mysterious
and magical banner which they bore. The name of this banner was the
_Reafan_, that is, the Raven. There was the figure of a raven woven
or embroidered on the banner. Hubba's three sisters had woven it for
their brothers, when they went forth across the German Ocean to avenge
their father's death. It possessed, as both the Danes and Saxons
believed, supernatural and magical powers. The raven on the banner
could foresee the result of any battle into which it was borne. It
remained lifeless and at rest whenever the result was to be adverse;
and, on the other hand, it fluttered its wings with a mysterious and
magical vitality when they who bore it were destined to victory. The
Danes consequently looked up to this banner with a feeling of profound
veneration and awe, and the Saxons feared and dreaded its mysterious
power. The explanation of this pretended miracle is easy. The
imagination of superstitious men, in such a state of society as that
of these half-savage Danes, is capable of much greater triumphs over
the reason and the senses than is implied in making them believe that
the wings of a bird are either in motion or at rest, whichever
it fancies, when the banner on which the image is embroidered is
advancing to the field and fluttering in the breeze.
The Castle of Kenwith was situated on a rocky promontory, and was
defended by a Saxon wall. Hubba saw that it would be difficult to
carry it by a direct assault. On the other hand, it was not well
supplied with water or provisions, and the numerous multitude which
had crowded into it, would, as Hubba thought, be speedily compelled
to surrender by thirst and famine, if he were simply to wait a short
time, till their scanty stock of food was consumed. Perhaps the raven
did not flutter her wings when Hubba approached the castle, but by her
apparent lifelessness portended calamity if an attack were to be made.
At all events, Hubba decided not to attack the castle, but to invest
it closely on all sides, with his army on the land and with his
vessels on the side of the sea, and thus reduce it by famine. He
accordingly stationed his troops and his galleys at their posts and
established himself in his tent, quietly to await the result.
He did not have to wait so long as he anticipated. Odun, finding that
his danger was so imminent, nay, that his destruction was inevitable
if he remained in his castle, thus shut in, determined, in the
desperation to which the emergency reduced him, to make a sally.
Accordingly, one night, as soon as it was dark, so that the
indications of any movement within the castle might not be perceived
by the sentinels and watchmen in Hubba's lines, he began to marshal
and organize his army for a sudden and furious onset upon the camp of
the Danes.
They waited, when all was ready, till the first break of day. To make
the surprise most effectual, it was necessary that it should take
place in the night; but then, on the other hand, the success, if they
should be successful, would require, in order to be followed up with
advantage, the light of day. Odun chose, therefore, the earliest dawn
as the time for his attempt, as this was the only period which would
give him at first darkness for his surprise, and afterward light for
his victory. The time was well chosen, the arrangements were all
well made, and the result corresponded with the character of the
preparations. The sally was triumphantly successful.
The Danes, who were all, except their sentinels, sleeping quietly and
secure, were suddenly aroused by the unearthly and terrific yells with
which the Saxons burst into the lines of their encampment. They flew
to arms, but the shock of the onset produced a panic and confusion
which soon made their cause hopeless. Odun and his immediate followers
pressed directly forward into Hubba's tent, where they surprised the
commander, and massacred him on the spot. They seized, too, to their
inexpressible joy, the sacred banner, which was in Hubba's tent, and
bore it forth, rejoicing in it, not merely as a splendid trophy of
their victory, but as a loss to their enemies which fixed and sealed
their doom.
The Danes fled before their enemies in terror, and the consternation
which they felt, when they learned that their banner had been captured
and their leader slain, was soon changed into absolute despair. The
Saxons slew them without mercy, cutting down some as they were running
before them in their headlong flight, and transfixing others with
their spears and arrows as they lay upon the ground, trampled down by
the crowds and the confusion. There was no place of refuge to which
they could fly except to their ships. Those, therefore, that escaped
the weapons of their pursuers, fled in the direction of the water,
where the strong and the fortunate gained the boats and the galleys,
while the exhausted and the wounded were drowned. The fleet sailed
away from the coast, and the Saxons, on surveying the scene of the
terrible contest, estimated that there were twelve hundred dead bodies
lying in the field.
This victory, and especially the capture of the Raven, produced vast
effects on the minds both of the Saxons and of the Danes, animating
and encouraging the one, and depressing the other with superstitious
as well as natural and proper fears. The influence of the battle was
sufficient, in fact, wholly to change Alfred's position and prospects.
The news of the discovery of the place of his retreat, and of the
measures which he was maturing for taking the field again to meet his
enemies, spread throughout the country. The people were every where
ready to take up arms and join him. There were large bodies of Danes
in several parts of his dominions still, and they, alarmed somewhat at
these indications of new efforts of resistance on the part of their
enemies, began to concentrate their strength and prepare for another
struggle.
The main body of the Danes were encamped at a place called Edendune,
in Wiltshire. There is a hill near, which the army made their main
position, and the marks of their fortifications have been traced
there, either in imagination or reality, in modern times. Alfred
wished to gain more precise and accurate information than he yet
possessed of the numbers and situation of his foes; and, in order to
do this, instead of employing a spy, he conceived the design of going
himself in disguise to explore the camp of the Danes. The undertaking
was full of danger, but yet not quite so desperate as at first it
might seem. Alfred had had abundant opportunities during the months
of his seclusion to become familiar with the modes of speech and the
manners of peasant life. He had also, in his early years, stored his
memory with Saxon poetry, as has already been stated. He was fond of
music, too, and well skilled in it; so that he had every qualification
for assuming the character of one of those roving harpers, who, in
those days, followed armies, to sing songs and make amusement for the
soldiers. He determined, consequently, to assume the disguise of a
harper, and to wander into the camp of the Danes, that he might make
his own observations on the nature and magnitude of the force with
which he was about to contend.
He accordingly clothed himself in the garb of the character which he
was to assume, and, taking his harp upon his shoulder, wandered away
in the direction of the Northmen's camp. Such a strolling countryman,
half musician, half beggar would enter without suspicion or hinderance
into the camp, even though he belonged to the nation of the enemy.
Alfred was readily admitted, and he wandered at will about the
lines, to play and sing to the soldiers wherever he found groups to
listen--intent, apparently, on nothing but his scanty pittance of pay,
while he was really studying, with the utmost attention and care, the
number, and disposition, and discipline of the troops, and all the
arrangements of the army. He came very near discovering himself,
however, by overacting his part. His music was so well executed and
his ballads were so fine, that reports of the excellence of his
performance reached the commander's ears. He ordered the pretended
harper to be sent into his tent, that he might hear him play and
sing. Alfred went, and thus he had the opportunity of completing his
observations in the tent, and in the presence of the Danish king.
Alfred found that the Danish camp was in a very unguarded and careless
condition. The name of the commander, or king, was Guthrum.[1] Alfred,
while playing in his presence, studied his character, and it is (not)
improbable that the very extraordinary course which he afterward
pursued in respect to Guthrum may have been caused, in a great degree,
by the opportunity he now enjoyed of domestic access to him and
of obtaining a near and intimate view of his social and personal
character. Guthrum treated the supposed harper with great kindness. He
was much pleased both with his singing and his songs, being attracted,
too, probably, in some degree, by a certain mysterious interest which
the humble stranger must have inspired; for Alfred possessed personal
and intellectual traits of character which could not but have given to
his conversation and his manners a certain charm, notwithstanding all
his efforts to disguise or conceal them.
However this may be, Guthrum gave Alfred a very friendly reception,
and the hour of social intercourse and enjoyment which the general
and the ballad-singer spent together was only a precursor of the more
solid and honest friendship which afterward subsisted between them as
allied sovereigns.
Alfred had one person with him, whom he had brought from Ethelney--a
sort of attendant--to help him carry his harp, and to be a companion
for him on the way. He would have needed such a companion even if he
had been only what he seemed; but for a spy, going in disguise into
the camp of such ferocious enemies as the Danes, it would seem
absolutely indispensable that he should have the support and sympathy
of a friend.
Alfred, after finishing his examination of the camp of Guthrum, and
forming secretly, in his own mind, his plans for attacking it, moved
leisurely away, taking his harp and his attendant with him, as if
going on in search of some new place to practice his profession. As
soon as he was out of the reach of observation, he made a circuit and
returned in safety to Ethelney. The season was now spring, and every
thing favored the commencement of his enterprise.
His first measure was to send out some trusty messengers into all the
neighboring counties, to visit and confer with his friends at their
various castles and strong-holds. These messengers were to announce to
such Saxon leaders as they should find that Alfred was still alive,
and that he was preparing to take the field against the Danes again;
and were to invite them to assemble at a certain place appointed, in
a forest, with as many followers as they could bring, that the
king might there complete the organization of an army, and hold
consultation with them to mature their plans.
The wood on the borders of which they were to meet was an extensive
forest of willows, fifteen miles long and six broad. It was known by
the name of Selwood Forest. There was a celebrated place called the
Stone of Egbert, where the meeting was to be held. Each chieftain whom
the messengers should visit was to be invited to come to the Stone of
Egbert at the appointed day, with as many armed men, and yet in
as secret and noiseless a manner as possible, so as thus, while
concentrating all their forces in preparation for their intended
attack, to avoid every thing which would tend to put Guthrum on his
guard.
The messengers found the Saxon chieftains very ready to enter into
Alfred's plans. They were rejoiced to hear, as some of them did now
for the first time hear, that he was alive, and that the spirit and
energy of his former character were about to be exhibited again. Every
thing, in fact, conspired to favor the enterprise. The long and gloomy
months of winter were past, and the opening spring brought with it,
as usual, excitement and readiness for action. The tidings of Odun's
victory over Hubba, and the capture of the sacred raven, which had
spread every where, had awakened a general enthusiasm, and a desire
on the part of all the Saxon chieftains and soldiers to try their
strength once more with their ancient enemies.
Accordingly, those to whom the secret was intrusted eagerly accepted
the invitation, or, perhaps, as it should rather be expressed, obeyed
the summons which Alfred sent them. They marshaled their forces
without any delay, and repaired to the appointed place in Selwood
Forest. Alfred was ready to meet them there. Two days were occupied
with the arrivals of the different parties, and in the mutual
congratulations and rejoicings. Growing more bold as their sense of
strength increased with their increasing numbers, and with the ardor
and enthusiasm which their mutual influence on each other inspired,
they spent the intervals of their consultations in festivities and
rejoicings, celebrating the occasion with games and martial music. The
forest resounded with the blasts of horns, the sound of the trumpets,
the clash of arms, and the shouts of joy and congratulation, which all
the efforts of the more prudent and cautious could not repress.
In the mean time, Guthrum remained in his encampment at Edendune. This
seems to have been the principal concentration of the forces of the
Danes which were marshaled for military service; and yet there were
large numbers of the people, disbanded soldiers, or non-combatants,
who had come over in the train of the armies, that had taken
possession of the lands which they had conquered, and had settled upon
them for cultivation, as if to make them their permanent home. These
intruders were scattered in larger or smaller bodies in various parts
of the kingdom, the Saxon inhabitants being prevented from driving
them away by the influence and power of the armies, which still kept
possession of the field, and preserved their military organization
complete, ready for action at any time whenever any organized Saxon
force should appear.
Guthrum, as we have said, headed the largest of these armies. He was
aware of the increasing excitement that was spreading among the Saxon
population, and he even heard rumors of the movements which the bodies
of Saxons made, in going under their several chieftains to Selwood
Forest. He expected that some important movement was about to occur,
but he had no idea that preparations so extended, and for so decisive
a demonstration, were so far advanced. He remained, therefore, at his
camp at Edendune, gradually completing his arrangements for his summer
campaign, but making no preparations for resisting any sudden or
violent attack.
When all was ready, Alfred put himself at the head of the forces which
had collected at the Egbert Stone, or, as it is quaintly spelled in
some of the old accounts, Ecgbyrth-stan. There is a place called
Brixstan in that vicinity now, which may possibly be the same name
modified and abridged by the lapse of time. Alfred moved forward
toward Guthrum's camp. He went only a part of the way the first day,
intending to finish the march by getting into the immediate vicinity
of the enemy on the morrow. He succeeded in accomplishing this object,
and encamped the next night at a place called Æcglea,[2] on an
eminence from which he could reconnoiter, from a great distance, the
position of the army.
That night, as he was sleeping in his tent, he had a remarkable dream.
He dreamed that his relative, St. Neot, who has been already mentioned
as the chaplain or priest who reproved him so severely for his sins in
the early part of his reign, appeared to him. The apparition bid him
not fear the immense army of pagans whom he was going to encounter
on the morrow. God, he said, had accepted his penitence, and was now
about to take him under his special protection. The calamities which
had befallen him were sent in judgment to punish the pride and
arrogance which he had manifested in the early part of his reign; but
his faults had been expiated by the sufferings he had endured, and by
the penitence and the piety which they had been the means of awakening
in his heart; and now he might go forward into the battle without
fear, as God was about to give him the victory over all his enemies.
The king related his dream the next morning to his army. The
enthusiasm and ardor which the chieftains and the men had felt before
were very much increased by this assurance of success. They broke up
their encampment, therefore, and commenced the march, which was to
bring them, before many hours, into the presence of the enemy, with
great alacrity and eager expectations of success.
[Footnote 1: Spelled sometimes Godrun, Gutrum, Gythram, and in various
other ways.]
[Footnote 2: Some think that this place is the modern Leigh; others,
that it was Highley; either of which names might have been deduced
from Æcglea.]