like of which AEdric had never heard before, but which is now so well
known that its very familiarity tends to weaken its beauty. He told how
all things were lovely, how all things pleased the Creator, how sin
entered in, and then came death, and how death ended in victory. But he
told it all so simply, and made it so like a saga, that AEdric thought
he was listening to one of old Deva's tales, and gradually sleep stole
over him, and he sank into profound slumber.
Corman sat silently by his side, fearing to move, lest he should disturb
him.
Presently Dicoll and Malachi came in, and they began the morning
service, but in low tones; while outside the door of the hut a few women
and children stood round to listen.
The inherent reverence of the Teutonic nature showed itself strongly in
these rude, suffering, untaught South Saxons, and the monks already saw
promise of future good.
By the welcome aid of healing arts they had gradually obtained a hold on
the little settlement; and as their practical sympathy with physical
suffering found ready scope in their power to deal with it, so the
purity of their worship attracted the gentler natures of the more
reflecting among the people.
The religion of the South Saxons, like that of all the Teutonic tribes,
was calculated to promote reverence, and was yet so vague in its
teaching as to oppose but slight obstacles to the approaches of
Christianity. Their deities were the elements, and, like the Greeks,
they worshipped a divinity in every object of nature. Rude temples they
seem to have had, which, as in the story of Coifi, appear to have had
but little hold on the people; and as there were no material advantages
at stake, so the opposition offered to the Christian missionary was much
less envenomed than is usually the case where vested interests are at
hazard.
Indeed, the Christian missionaries found, in one very important
particular, a decided gain in dealing with the Teutonic peoples as
compared with the Christian but Romance nations. The sanctity of
domestic life contrasted strongly with the habits and customs of the
laxer peoples of the South, habituated to vice in all its forms, and
among whom the pursuit of pleasure had become almost a science as well
as a passion.
The spirit of scoffing, of ridicule, was absent. Such a spirit seems
inconsistent with the gloom of the vast primeval forest, of the
solitudes of the hunter, and the earnestness produced by the stern fight
for existence. Luxury, laziness, the energy of the body directed to the
amusement of a debased intellect, and an intellect pandering to the
unwholesome passions of the body, all these were absent, and the
Christian missionaries found themselves confronted with an almost
primitive state of life.
*CHAPTER III.*
*"UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE."*
Ceolwulf and Wulfstan, after leaving the hut of the kind monks, went
first to look to the boat, and moored her securely. Then they walked
into the thick wood, which was immediately behind the little settlement,
and which stretched without intermission right up to the great
Andredesweald. There were occasional clearings here and there,
especially to the east of Boseham towards Cissanceaster, but owing to
the dreadful drought and consequent famine, and demoralisation of the
inhabitants resulting from it, most of these clearings had relapsed into
a wilderness again.
They had not gone far when Biggun remarked that they had better take a
look at the sun, and see how they were to find their way back again; and
while he was taking a careful look round Wulfstan noticed a rustling
noise amongst the dry leaves on his right, and directly afterwards an
old pig and several little ones came grunting through the wood followed
by a miserable, unhealthy-looking boy, who instantly stopped on seeing
the two strangers, and stared at them with suspicion.
"Whose pigs are those?" said Biggun.
The young swineherd only stared at him the more, and especially eyed
Wulfstan with curiosity, as though such a healthy-looking boy were quite
surprising. At last, on the question being repeated two or three times,
he shook his head to intimate that he did not understand.
"Come along, Wulf, we've no time to lose; let us go down this glade and
keep thy spear ready. That boy is a Weala."
They now reached a long and natural glade in the forest, and as they got
farther away from the sea the trees grew larger and straighter, and the
view under the branches was more extended, being only interrupted by
clumps of brushwood here and there. There was no sign of any road or
track whatever, only the vast forest stretched in endless solitude to
right and left, and as far ahead as the eye could see.
Wulfstan was delighted with the size of the forest, and eagerly looked
on each side for the chance of some game appearing. They had now walked
about four miles from Boseham, and were going in a north-westerly
direction, when a gleam through the trees ahead told them they were
approaching some water, and in a few minutes more they had reached a
long winding pool, or lake, from which a large heron rose slowly as they
came out of the forest.
"Biggun, look! Take a shot at that heron! I can swim for him if he
does drop in the water."
"He's too far off, Wulf; we must not waste our arrows. Wait till we get
a sure mark; we shan't have to wait long. If this is salt water,
animals won't come to drink, but I doubt not we shall find a fresh brook
running into it farther on; and if we find the marks where the beasts
come down to water, we can hide in the bushes, as we used to do at home,
and then we shan't miss."
They had hardly gone three steps more when a large hare darted out of a
thicket by the side of the water and ran into the wood; but Biggun was
too quick for him, carefully watching as he passed behind a tree, the
instant he appeared on the other side of it, an arrow whizzed from his
bow and rolled the hare over on the ground.
"By Woden, Biggun, that was a good shot; thou timedst it well," cried
Wulf admiringly, as he ran up to the hare and pulled the arrow out,
carefully wiping the shaft and point, and smoothing the feathers; then
taking the animal up by his hind legs he hit it behind the neck to kill
it, for it was not quite dead, then he ran back to Biggun and gave him
his arrow again.
"Be still, my son, and hurry not, if thou wouldst hit anything," said
Biggun complacently, as he put the arrow back in the quiver. They then
went on again, Wulf carrying the hare and looking with sharp glances all
round him. Presently they came to a very marshy place and had to leave
the side of the water and enter the forest again. Skirting the marsh
they came to a kind of track that led them to a deep pool which was
trodden all round and was evidently a place where animals came down to
water.
"We ought to come here to-night, Wulf, but we ought to come in a large
gang, for here be marks we don't see in our island," said Biggun,
stooping down and examining the "spoor" of the animals that frequented
this place to quench their thirst.
"Hark, Biggun, there is something coming!" whispered Wulfstan, as a
crackling of twigs was heard a little way off.
"Quick, Wulf, climb up that tree there; up with thee!" cried Biggun, as
he hurried the boy hastily to a wide-spreading oak, whose large and low
branching limbs stretched over the pool. In an instant Wulfstan was
ensconced among the branches, and Biggun had handed him up his spear,
and was just pulling himself up after him, when, with a crash and a
squeal, a huge wild boar rushed through the brushwood, and charged at
poor Biggun, who, old and stiff, was with difficulty getting up into the
first low fork of the old tree.
"Oh, Biggun, get thy legs out of the way!" shrieked Wulfstan in terror,
and without pausing a moment he hurled the boar spear he held right at
the advancing beast. He threw it with such good aim that it struck the
animal in the shoulder, and although it did not stop his charge, by
reason of the wound it caused, it yet pulled the beast up by catching in
one of the overhanging boughs, and the shaft being made of stout ash did
not break, but widened the wound in the shoulder, and caused the poor
animal to squeal aloud with pain. Biggun had now got his legs over the
first branch, and, taking steady aim, he shot an arrow into the animal's
eye. Such was the vitality and courage of the brute that, although it
had the spear still sticking in its shoulder, and was pierced in one eye
with an arrow, it yet charged home to the trunk of the tree, and buried
its tusks in the bark. Then it stood looking round for its enemy, and
grunting and squealing fiercely. Biggun drew another arrow up to its
head, and the shaft went home to the boar's heart, and he fell over
dead.
"Well, I think we have got enough game now, Wulf, for the monks and
ourselves, and we had better make the best of our way home, and carry as
much as we can of this beast with us," said Biggun, scrambling out of
the tree again, followed by Wulfstan, who was very delighted at the
death of the big animal, and greatly admired his formidable tusks and
the thick crest of bristles which grew down his strong neck and
shoulders.
Ceolwulf proceeded to cut up the body with his long hunting knife, and
slinging the two hind quarters over his shoulders, and replacing the
arrows in the quiver, they hung the rest of the quartered boar on the
lowest bough of the oak that had saved their lives, and started to make
their way home again.
Suddenly Ceolwulf pulled his young companion behind a tree, and then,
before Wulf could ask him the reason, he had whispered to him to be
perfectly still, as he saw some men a little way ahead of them. Very
cautiously Biggun and Wulf crouched down, and crawled to the cover of
some bushes that were near, and from this shelter they saw several men
coming in their direction. They were all armed, and looked a strong and
formidable body of men. There were about thirty or forty in all, and
most wore iron helmets, and two or three had hawberks, or jackets of
mail, like that which the young man wore whom they had met in the
morning. Some carried stout spears, and others large clubs, with a
heavy ball of metal attached by a short piece of chain to the head of
the club, and studded with spikes. Most had shields of a round shape,
and nearly all carried, in addition to the arms already mentioned, long
swords and battle axes. The men who had not got jackets of mail wore
leathern tunics, which appeared to be of double thickness over the chest
and shoulders, and which were no doubt sufficiently tough to ward off a
sword cut or spear thrust. Many of the men appeared to be quite young:
none of them seemed over forty, and the youngest might have been between
eighteen and twenty. They were a handsome and picturesque-looking set
of men, with their bushy hair flowing out from under their helmets,
their bronzed faces and martial appearance. Some wore close-cut beards,
and some were shaved, with the exception of the "knightly fringe that
clothed the upper lip," and Ceolwulf knew that they must be the
body-guard of some powerful Thane or Eorldoman, and he crouched all the
closer, for the times were very perilous. They did not seem to be in
any hurry, for they sauntered along, talking among themselves, and
appearing to be under no leadership. Suddenly one of them uttered a
cry, and walked hastily to the tree where the remains of the wild boar
were hanging, fresh and bleeding from the knife of Ceolwulf.
"Ah, they will track us by the drops of blood from the joints I have
over my shoulders!" said Biggun. "Well, I must even drop them here, and
perchance they won't find them," he added, with a sigh, as he unstrung
the quarters, and hung them on a bough above him. He then took Wulfstan
by the hand, and pulled him into the thickest of the bushes, and
crouched down again. They could hear the men talking about the boar,
and laughing at the unexpected piece of good luck they had fallen in
with.
"This will just do," said one. "I was getting very hungry, and here we
are where he told us to wait for him. Let us make a fire and roast some
of these joints."
"That we will," cried another. "Here's water to drink and flesh to eat.
What more do we want? Why the heroes in Valhalla can't have much more!
This boar, I warrant, is every bit as good as Saehrimnir[1] the
everlasting, and we can do for once without mead."
[1] The author has put into the mouths of the Saxons the mythological
allusions of the Scandinavian sagas, thinking that probably the same
tales were common to the Scandinavian and Jutland peninsula, as well as
to the Saxons and Frisians.
"Aye, and we can cut our enemies to pieces after our dinner just as well
as before; so waste no more time, but get some sticks and make a fire,"
rejoined a third.
"Well, thou canst begin making afire," said the man who had first seen
the pieces of boar's flesh. "I shall follow this trail of blood, and see
where they are who have killed the boar. They can't be far off, or the
track wouldn't be so fresh, and they can't be many, or they wouldn't let
us take their game so easily. But, after all, there's no knowing; these
South Saxons, since the plague, have lost all heart."
Hearing these words, several others began to follow on the trail, and it
was not long before they came to the bushes, where Ceolwulf and Wulfstan
lay hid. A loud shout soon told that they had found the rest of the
animal, and then they were apparently baffled. But not for long, for a
keen-eyed man saw where a twig had recently been broken off, and then
another where dead leaves had been trodden on and the damp side turned
up, and in another moment Biggun and Wulfstan rose to their feet, face
to face with a bronzed and powerful man peering through the bushes at
them.
"Hark, here! So! so! my masters. Here's the game come to bay!" he
cried merrily, and all the others broke through the bushes to get a
view. Ceolwulf saw instantly it was no use showing fight, and he and
Wulfstan came out and gave themselves up.
They were led to where the others were making a fire, and all crowded
round to look at the captives.
"Well, and who are ye?" said the oldest-looking man.
Biggun had no idea who these men were, and after what he had heard from
Father Dicoll about Edilwalch and his friendship for Arwald, he thought
it better to conceal as long as possible who he was and where he came
from.
"My name is Ceolwulf."
"Where dost come from?"
"From Boseham."
"Why, we know every one who lives in Boseham, and we never saw thee
before, so that won't pass."
"Nevertheless I come from Boseham."
"Look here, old man, thou hadst better tell us at once all about thyself
and the boy there, both for thy sake and his. We are not used to be
trifled with, and thou art old enough to know what being made a spread
eagle means."
Ceolwulf scratched his head and looked at Wulfstan, who, boy-like, could
not see what there was to hide, for if they knew every one in Boseham
they must know the kind monks who had so befriended them.
"Now, old man, be quick," said his questioner.
"Well, we come from Wihtea, over there, and have been in a good deal of
trouble," said Ceolwulf, hoping to mollify his interrogator; "and when
we got to Boseham we found some queer sort of men, who gave us some
bread, and we thought we would go out and get something better to eat,
for there seems no heart left in those South Saxons to help themselves."
"Thou art in the right there, my man. Since the yellow plague all
spirit has gone out of them, and they care to do nothing now but
die--which, after all, isn't so bad, if thou diest with thine axe in the
skull of thine enemy, but any other way is disgraceful," from which
remark it was clear that this man was a philosopher in his way, although
somewhat crude in his ideas.
"And whose boy is this? He isn't thy son, I'll be bound. An old wooden
head like thee couldn't have a son like that," said another man.
"Let me stand out there with my axe, and I'll soon show thee whether my
head is any more wooden than thine, thou young Weala!"
"He has called me a Weala," cried the young man to the others. "He
belongs to me to punish; let me have him out here, that I may split his
old timber skull."
"No, no," said the older man. "We have got to have our dinner first,
and, I think, as he has provided it, he ought to be asked to share it."
"But thou hast not told us who the boy is, old man."
"He is the son of a noble eorldoman in Wihtea."
"What, Arwald's son?" cried the man with eagerness.
"Now I wish I knew whether he wanted him to be his son or not," thought
Ceolwulf. Then he added, "Dost thou know Arwald, then?"
"It is not thy business to ask me questions, but to answer mine, and
take care thou doest it," said the man, sternly.
"No, he's not Arwald's son."
"All the better for him, then," muttered his interrogator.
But at this moment a most delicious smell of fragrant roast pork floated
past their nostrils, and neither Biggun nor the man could avoid sniffing
it admiringly.
"Well, we can ask thee these questions presently quite as well as now,
and if we are not quick the others will have all the best bits. Now
promise me thou wilt not attempt to escape, and I will let thee sit down
and eat with us."
Biggun was very hungry, and so was Wulfstan, and they both promised at
once, and then they all sat down, while three of the youngest were told
to divide the joints and distribute them to the others.
It was a picturesque scene: the blue smoke from the fire curled up among
the fast falling leaves of the great forest trees; beyond, fading into
grey dimness, was the forest, while the sinking sun cast its warm rays
aslant the stems of the trees, and turned the red bracken to golden
sprays; the men lay about in careless attitudes, their flashing weapons
gleaming in the setting sun, and above all were the ruddy leaves and
great limbs of the wide-spreading oaks.
Merrily the talk went on, and coarse jest and practical joke made the
echoes of the forest ring, until the noise reminded the man who had
questioned Ceolwulf of the errand they were upon, and which apparently
demanded some measure of secrecy, for he told four of the young men who
had eaten enough to go some distance off and act as scouts, and he also
tried to get the others to be a little less boisterous. Wulfstan enjoyed
the whole feast immensely, and had won universal applause when old
Ceolwulf told how he had speared the boar, and they all vowed he should
be one of them, and should live to be a hero and do great deeds, to all
which Wulfstan listened complacently; but at times he thought of AEdric,
and longed to take him the hare, and he would have liked the good monks
to have had some of that delicious boar, for he thought he never had
tasted anything so good, as he held the end of a chop in his fingers and
munched the juicy flesh. This was the fourth he had eaten, and he felt
that the world was much more pleasant than it had been lately.
The others were now nearly satisfied, and little of the boar remained,
which, fortunately for the happiness of the party, was a full grown
animal, and in very good condition. As the men leant back with dreamy
faces, and meditatively gave themselves up to the joys of tranquil
digestion, there came a desire for amusement, and it occurred to the
younger and more mischievous among them to think of the reproach cast by
Biggun on the young man he had called a "Weala," which was regarded as
an insult by the conquering Saxons.
"I say, Beornwulf, I wouldn't be called a Weala by that old red beard,"
said one, throwing a bone at the young man he addressed, which alighted
on his hand just as he was putting a choice morsel into his mouth, and
knocked the piece of flesh out of his hand on to the ground.
A loud and general burst of laughter greeted this practical joke, which
did not add to the young man's good humour, and he, being of a fiery
disposition, and so the very fittest subject for a practical joker, rose
up in a rage and hurled the bone back at his aggressor, who, being
prepared for it, ducked his head, and it passed harmlessly over him.
"There, Beorney, don't get angry. If thou wantest to fight, fight the
old man there, and then, after he has thrashed thee, thou canst come and
fight us. We shan't be afraid of thee then, but thou'rt too strong a
man now, and aimest too straight."
"What is all this about, boys?" said the older man, who had been
comfortably stretched on his back with Ceolwulf and Wulfstan on each
side of him, placidly enjoying the pleasant reminiscences of that
estimable boar. "What's all this about? Why can't ye enjoy the
blessings the gods give ye without wanting to make a disturbance?"
"Beornwulf here wants to fight that old red beard we caught in the
bushes, who called him a Weala."
"Well, and Beornwulf called him a wooden head first, so I think they are
quits."
"Let them fight, Athelhune. We've nothing to amuse us, and they might
just as well have a round."
"Why, what's the good, boys? We want all our strength for to-night's
work, and he might be here any moment. Ye see the sun is sinking fast."
"Then they can leave off when he comes."
Athelhune, who really did not much care one way or the other, made no
answer, and this being taken as a consent, the young men, now that they
had roused Beornwulf, set to work to get old Ceolwulf excited, who had
gone tranquilly off to sleep.
They proceeded therefore to pitch a chop bone neatly on to his nose, and
when he started up full of bewilderment at the unexpected shock, another
bone, adroitly thrown, though not very hard, struck him on the mouth.
Boiling with rage, old Biggun got up and glared round for his assailant.
"Here he is, old man; here's the Weala that did it!" cried several
voices, pushing Beornwulf forward.
"Thou didst, thou nithing thou? I'll teach thee to insult a free born
Wihtwara!" cried old Ceolwulf, whose blood was now thoroughly up.
"There, Beornwulf, he has called thee a nithing. Nothing but blood can
wipe out that," called out the others, delighted at the success of their
stratagem.
Ceolwulf was going at once to strike the young man with his boar-spear,
but two or three young men knocked up the point, and told him he must
wait until they had made a ring, and he must have the same arms as his
antagonist.
They proceeded, therefore, to cut wands of hazel and fix them round in a
circle, leaving ample room in the middle for the two combatants, and
then they explained to Ceolwulf that whosoever drew first blood or drove
his opponent out of the ring was to be considered conqueror. They then
gave Ceolwulf the choice of several battle-axes, and allowed him to have
a helmet like Beornwulf and a shield, and then they led the two
combatants into the ring.
All had now risen from their recumbent position, and were showing much
interest in the approaching fray. Opinion was divided as to which of
the two was likely to win. Most inclined to Beornwulf, who was younger
far and likely to be much more active. The older men, however, augured
well from Ceolwulf's size and experience that victory might declare for
him.
Wearing their shields on their left arms, and holding their battle-axes
in their right, the two men eyed each other steadily, and in order to
rouse them to greater animosity, several young men called out:
"Remember, Beorney, he called thee a Weala." "And worse than that, he
called thee a nithing," added others.
While to provoke Ceolwulf they called out: "He called thee a wooden
head, and threw bones in thy face."
Poor little Wulfstan looked on with anxious eyes. He did not much fear
for Ceolwulf, in whom he had always had unbounded confidence, but the
thought would occur to him that were anything to happen to their old
servant what would become of himself and AEdric? He was their only
friend left in the whole world now. So he thought, and looked on,
angry-eyed and wistful.
And now the fight began. Beornwulf stepped up close to Ceolwulf and
made a feint at his right arm, which Ceolwulf parried with his axe, and
caught the next blow, aimed with all the young man's might at his head,
with his round shield. The force of the blow split the shield and
exposed the arm, so that all thought the old man was wounded, but
Ceolwulf at the moment that the blow descended, struck slanting at the
exposed right side of his opponent, and cut through his leathern jerkin,
causing a crimson stream to flow down his armour.