preparations for spending the night. While these operations were going
on, Ceolwulf said he would go down into the valley, and find out how
matters really were in the vicinity of their old home. So saying, and
equipping himself in his hawberk, and with all his offensive weapons, he
disappeared among the trees on his way down the hill.
*CHAPTER IX.*
*"I CAN CALL SPIRITS FROM THE VASTY DEEP."*
Ceolwulf descended the steep side of the thickly-wooded hill with the
assured step of one who well knew his way, although the increasing gloom
of night was fast spreading over hill and dale. After walking about a
mile through the dense brushwood, the old Wihtwara emerged upon a smooth
slope of grassy down, and even he, sturdy and matter-of-fact old heathen
as he was, stopped a moment to look at the beautiful scene before him;
not so much struck, however, with its beauty and poetry, as from a
desire to take in all he could of the well-known aspect of his native
land while yet there was any chance of seeing, and to compare the
present appearance of the cottages with what they had been before the
fatal onslaught of Arwald and his followers.
At Ceolwulf's feet stretched the close, wind-worn grass of the westerly
sloping hill-side, reflecting the rich glow which still suffused the
darkling sky. Beyond gleamed the sheen of a wide-stretching marsh,
across which the curlews called and the bitterns cried, and in which the
reflection of the evening star, setting over the distant top of St.
Boniface Down, streamed in flickering light. Across the Marsh a bank of
land separated the floods that came from the centre of the island, from
the waters of the great deep; for on the other side of this narrow strip
of land a wide and magnificent bay spread out its grey depth, till it
met the violet of the sky beneath the crimson glow of the departed sun.
Rising out of this sea, and forming the western side of the noble bay,
loomed a magnificent hill, the base of which lay bathed and hidden in
the green-grey mist; but enough of the shape of the promontory could be
seen to justify its name of the "Dunnose," by which it is now known.
The upper part of the hill stood up in clear outline, presenting a
solid, opaque mass of deep purple against the golden background, and
descended abruptly towards the north in two steep slopes, or
escarpments, to the level of a wide-reaching valley that led up to the
centre of the island. On the other side of this valley a line of downs
presenting their slope to the western light, stretched in fore-shortened
length, till they ended in a wooded hill immediately fronting the place
where Ceolwulf stood. The lovely scene gradually changed from the
lingering warmth of day to the colder shades of night, and all objects
grew rapidly indistinguishable.
"Too late to make out what is left of the house," muttered Ceolwulf,
"and as the floods seem to be out, I don't see that I can cross the Yare
by the old ford. I shall have to go round by the sands along the dunes."
At that time, and indeed until long after, that part of the island on
which Ceolwulf and his companions had been cast was known as Binbrygea
or Bembridge Island, as the other end of the Isle of Wight, which was
equally separated from the middle part of the island by an inlet of the
sea, was called Freshwater Island; and as the internal communication at
that early time was very defective, there was no bridge over the Yare,
and the inhabitants who wished to pass from Bembridge to the centre of
the island had to go round by the sandbanks cast up by the sea along the
shore where Sandown now flourishes.
There was a ford at low water over the marshes, but it was very
difficult to find, and impassable if there were any extra water in the
small river Yare. The homestead where Wulfstan and AEdric were brought
up was built at the head of what until a few years ago was Brading
Haven, and which at that time was a large and magnificent sheet of water
stretching up nearly to where Sandown Railway Station now is. The home
and farm buildings stood among some old trees, the ancestors of the
present Park of Nunwell, and were sheltered from the north-west and
north-east by rising ground and the woods that spread in an
uninterrupted forest right through the island to Yarmouth, covering all
the north side of the island with a dense growth; the only clearings
being about Whitgaresbyrig, now Carisbrooke, and Cerdicsford, now
Yarmouth. The few patches of land ploughed up by the Romans had rapidly
gone out of cultivation during the wild period of the fifth and sixth
centuries, and the sparsely scattered inhabitants lived chiefly on the
results of the chase and such dairy produce as their rude methods of
farming could raise, and in this part of their domestic economy the
Jutish conquerors of the Isle of Wight were much assisted by the more
cultivated race whom they conquered, and many of whom they kept as their
slaves.
Ceolwulf once more fell into his former long swinging stride, and,
turning more to the left, directed his steps towards the shore of the
open sea.
After proceeding for about a mile and a half, until he had nearly
reached the sea beach, he suddenly turned to the right, and plunging
through some thick reeds he came to the edge of the river Yare. There
was evidently a ford here, for the reeds were broken and trodden down.
Groping his way with his spear, Ceolwulf at last emerged on the bank on
the other side.
He had now reached a level tract of land rising gently to the foot of
the Downs, which had faced him when he first emerged from the wood; he
was still a good couple of miles from the old homestead, but as he was
now in a more populous part it behoved him to be rather more cautious in
his advance.
A little ahead of him and to his left was a belt of thick, low scrub and
brushwood, through which could be seen here and there a whiter patch,
looking like the walls of some building; but in the dim light it was
difficult to make out anything clearly, excepting that in one place a
pile of masonry rose above the bushes, and stood out against the stars
in a jagged and broken outline.
Ceolwulf now paused a moment and listened intently for any sound, but
all was still; occasionally a dull thud reached his car, caused by the
sea breaking on the shingly shore behind him, and the fast dying leaves
of an old oak near shivered in the scarcely perceptible breeze, but all
else was still as the grave.
Suddenly a sharp whirr rose on the silence, and a sound of heavily
flapping wings beat the quiet air as a nightjar started out of the old
oak tree to search for his evening meal. Ceolwulf was superstitious,
like all his race, and he especially disliked the place where he now
found himself.
He well knew what those ruins were, and firmly believed, like all the
dwellers round, that the place was haunted. Men had lived there who
were as gods compared to the rough, uncultured Jute, and now their
dwelling was become a ruin, and desolation brooded over its halls.
Little more than two hundred years ago that house had been a stately
mansion, from which civilisation and Christianity spread their soothing
influences around, where a cultivated Roman gentleman dwelt with his
family of well-regulated servants, slaves in name, but as much attached
to their master and mistress as any free servants could be, and perhaps
still more so from the knowledge that their treatment was the pure
result of the humanity of their master, who, as far as the laws were
concerned, could have treated them far otherwise. In the wreck of the
Roman empire all the life of an expanding culture was crushed out of
Britain, and the old civilisation, religion and government were but as
myths dimly told by the rude conquerors to their children. The house
whose ruins were faintly delineated in the doubtful light had been a
Roman villa of very elegant proportions, and fitted with all the
appliances a luxurious civilisation knew well how to adapt to domestic
comfort; but since the fatal night of slaughter, fire, and rapine, when
the invader had harried the island, and remorselessly put to the sword
all the men who were likely to show courage or ability, and had made
slaves of the young women, the gaunt and blood-stained ruins had been
left desolate, haunted by the memories of past happiness, and the horror
of that awfully evil night, to which the superstition of the Jutes added
the terror of their weird mythology.
As Ceolwulf, startled as he was for the moment by the flight of the
night-jar, begun once more to pursue his way, a shrill cry, like that of
a child in pain, only with a sound in it different to that which
proceeds from human beings, startled him again.
The cry rose piercingly on the night, and then sank in silence once
more.
"It's only an owl, I do believe," muttered Ceolwulf, looking in the
direction of the sound. "But who can be stirring there at this time of
night?" he added, as a flickering ruddy glare shone on the masonry of a
remote part of the ruined Roman villa.
The flame had suddenly sprung up--for Ceolwulf felt sure he must have
seen it before if it had been there--and suddenly it was obscured again,
only to reappear in another minute. "There's somebody, or something,
passing in front of that light," thought Ceolwulf, "and, be it witch or
fiend, I must find out who it is before I go any further."
So saying, he cautiously turned towards the light, and at the same time
felt for a piece of dried skin he wore suspended round his neck.
"Ah! thanks be to Woden! I have not lost that," he chuckled, "and I
rubbed my sword in wolf's grease too, so that they can't throw any magic
over that," he added, for the powerful virtues of a dried and split
wolf's snout were universally held to be a sure antidote against magic;
while wolf's grease was an undoubted protection from the wiles of the
evil spirits who haunted desolate places, or were hostile to the human
race.
Protected by such lucky possessions, Ceolwulf felt his courage rise, and
advanced with resolution.
As he approached nearer, again that shrill and wild screech rose upon
the air, and set Ceolwulf's blood curdling, and this time the cry ended
in a low, prolonged and shivering sigh above his head.
"It's that owl, stupid!" said Ceolwulf to himself, clutching nervously
his precious wolf's snout, but wishing much he had more confidence in
what was, without doubt, a sure safeguard.
Stealthily stepping over the damp twigs and briar-covered stones, he got
nearer and nearer to the light, but could make out no objects
distinctly, and he now found that the light was further off than he had
at first thought.
"Perhaps, after all, it is only a marsh fire, and it's no use following
that," Ceolwulf growled, as he knocked his shin against a large block of
stone lying half concealed among the tangled brushwood.
But, at this moment, as if to contradict him, the flame leaped up with
greater brilliancy, and he saw a tall figure pass in front of the flame
and disappear in the inky black beyond.
Paying more attention than ever to the inequalities of the ground, and
arranging his arms as carefully as he could to prevent the light of the
fire falling upon them, and announcing his presence by an unlucky gleam,
Ceolwulf crept warily up, fearful lest the slightest sound should betray
his approach; while ever and anon the unearthly cry that had previously
startled him rang vibrating through the silence.
Keeping well in the shade of every bush and obstacle that intervened
between him and the light, he was at last able to creep within a
distance sufficient to enable him to make out the objects immediately
within range of the fire, and the sight that he saw was not reassuring
to one imbued with all the wild magic of the mystic northern legends.
Squatting before the fire, and occasionally attending to an iron pot
that hung suspended over it from an iron rod that looked as if it had
once been used for other purposes, which was held up by two forked
sticks placed far enough off from the fire to prevent their being burnt,
was a strange, uncanny-looking figure. Nothing could be seen,
intervening immediately as it did between the fire and Ceolwulf, but the
coal-black outline of a figure sparsely clad, with a hood over its head,
and, as it turned towards one side or the other, showing the outline of
a very hooked nose and chin, that, owing to the loss of the creature's
teeth, approached the nose so closely as almost to touch it. A few
locks of wispy hair hung down over the forehead beneath the hood, and a
long and skinny arm from time to time stirred the mixture in the pot,
while the other arm seemed to hold together the garment in which the
figure was dressed. As Ceolwulf looked intently, fascinated and
awe-struck by the sight of this being, whom he could not possibly
mistake for anything else than a most undoubted witch, surprised by him
in her unholy work, he heard her mutter scraps of sentences from time to
time, but could not make out a word she said.
"She is brewing spells, I do believe. Now for whom can she be doing
that? If only I could get her on our side it would be bad for Arwald.
Hullo! what she's doing now? Soul of Woden! but there's another, and
it's got horns!"
This remark was caused by a hairy object, which Ceolwulf had not before
noticed, raising a gaunt head from which two long curving horns
protruded, and which proceeded to get up on its haunches, and then upon
its feet, and presented the outline of a fine goat.
"So she's really raised the soul of him who dwells in Hellheim. I hope
he won't tell her I am here," muttered Ceolwulf, clutching more
vigorously than ever at his wolf's snout. "I wish I could make out what
she is saying. What a height she is! and where's she gone to now? I
shall have to move round a bit to see the other side of the fire."
The figure had risen up, and had taken the pot off the hook which
suspended it over the fire, and had then disappeared into the darkness
on the other side, the goat remaining, turning however in the direction
where Ceolwulf was, and beginning to utter the plaintive "hinny" that
has procured for its race the name of "Nanny goat."
"I don't like this; I believe it has seen me, and is telling her I am
here. Well, if I must come out, I must; but I'll hold on a bit longer
yet, and perhaps if it does not look at me I shan't feel so queer." So
saying, Ceolwulf moved to one side, and, drawing back, made his way
round to the other side of the fire.
It took him, however, some time to grope his way among the thick
brushwood and fallen stones, for the darkness was all the greater owing
to his having looked so long at the light. At last he reached a
loophole in the ruins, and found he was opposite to where he had
previously stood.
The ruins in this part were not quite so dilapidated. There yet remained
a portion of the roof that had fallen in, but still rested upon such
columns as had not been thrown down on that terrible night when fire and
sword had done their awful work on the peaceful household. Under this
shelter the figure of the being whom he had so suddenly come upon was
bending over something--what, Ceolwulf could not see, for the light of
the fire, which was now sinking down, only blazed fitfully on the face
of the walls, and was not powerful enough to pierce the gloom of the
covered portion of the ruins.
"There's somebody else in there, that's certain, for she's talking. If
she turns me into a toad for it, I must hear what she's saying," and
Ceolwulf wriggled himself through the aperture, and crept stealthily
nearer, and then suddenly stopped, horror-struck.
"Why, it's the voice of my dead eorl!" he exclaimed in terror, his hair
standing up in fear upon his head, and his knees knocking together. He
was so terrified at the thought of seeing his disembodied master, that
his first thought was to fly from the spot. But the voice spoke again,
feebly and with difficulty:
"Tell my children, if thou ever seest them, to revenge me on the House
of Arwald, till not a stock remains from which that evil race could
renew its life."
"Hush, my lord!" mumbled the aged voice of the hag whom Ceolwulf had
first seen. "If I had harboured thoughts of vengeance, should I have
succoured thee? Who did me and mine more grievous wrong than thou and
thy fathers?"
"Then, why, in Woden's name, didst thou not leave me to die? I should
have done so by this, and thought myself none the worse," answered the
faint voice of the invisible speaker.
"That's right," muttered Ceolwulf to himself. "I see they tell us true.
The heroes don't become less men down there in Nifleheim."
No other sound came from the deep shadow of the recess, and Ceolwulf
began to think he would go on his way, only, in spite of his
superstitious terrors, he wished very much to see if he could not get a
glimpse of his dead lord, if indeed, there was anything to be seen.
The fire was now dying down, but occasionally flickering up, and casting
weird shadows over the ruins, and Ceolwulf was just turning to go, when
the voice again spoke:
"Woman, wilt thou give my message to my sons, if ever thou meetest them?
I have not long to stay here; promise me."
"My lord, I have done what I could to save thy body, but I will do
naught which can imperil thy soul. I will take no message of hatred to
thy sons."
"Woman, darest thou refuse me? Dost thou dare to disobey me---- Ah!
but the descendant of Cerdic is indeed fallen low when his bond woman
scoffs at his command."
"My lord, leave thoughts of vengeance to God, and think of what I have
tried to tell thee of death. Ah," murmured the old woman, "if only I
could remember more clearly all that my mother used to tell me; but
these are weary times indeed, when they only who worship the real, true
God are miserable old women. How can any words of mine persuade my
master to believe that his gods are false, or to trust to what I know to
be truth?"
"Thou hast saved me, then, to live to know I shall be dishonoured? and
then, when I knew this, I was to die? Was this thy plan? Woman, thou
hast well avenged thy wrongs and those of thy race. By letting AElfhere
know that he was to die as a woman in his bed, driven from his home, and
unavenged on his enemies, thou hast inflicted on him a misery far worse
than death on the battle-field."
"My lord, it was not so. Should I, timid old woman as I am, should I
have risked death in every horrid shape merely to satisfy a feeling of
which I know nothing? No; I was taught to love my enemies, do good to
those that persecute me, and pray for those that despitefully use me."
"Woman, I believe thee not. May Wodin's curse alight on thee for a
false traitress! I die unavenged I die dishonoured, and thou openly
sayest thou wilt bear no message to my sons if thou shouldst meet them."
All this time the ideas of Ceolwulf were undergoing a change. Could it
be that his master was really alive? As this thought took possession of
his mind, the supernatural terror gradually gave place to one of hope,
curiosity, and delight.
"I will stand it no longer, come what will; so here goes," he muttered,
and stepping into the open space, among the ruins, he called out
resolutely:
"My Lord AElfhere, thou shalt not die unavenged. Thy thrall Ceolwulf has
heard thee, and will bear thy words to the young eorls. Whether thou
bee'st alive or dead, Ceolwulf vows it on the edge of his sword."
*CHAPTER X.*
*"FOR MY SAKE, BE COMFORTABLE."*
The bold speech of Ceolwulf produced the most absolute silence. The
fire had now become a mere heap of glowing embers, and nothing was
distinguishable in the darkness.
As Ceolwulf peered into the blackness where the voices had seemed to
come from, he thought he could hear a faint rustle as of some one
moving. Again his superstitious fears came over him. He was seized
with panic, and turning to make a hasty retreat, he caught his foot in a
trailing branch of ivy and came heavily to the ground.
Muttering a terrified and hasty ejaculation, he rose to his feet, and
for the moment forgot which way he had come. While turning over in his
mind this important question, he heard a hollow voice say:
"Is it really thou, Biggun, or art thou a dream of my weary and fitful
brain?"
"Surely, my lord, it is thy voice; but if thou art dead, let me not see
thee."
"I am alive, Biggun, but have not long to live. Come nearer. Put some
sticks on the fire before it goes out, that I may see thee, whether thou
art my faithful Ceolwulf or not."
Ceolwulf did as he was told, but with considerable difficulty, for it
was no easy matter to find any dry sticks, and had it not been for the
help of the old woman, who came out to assist him, he would scarcely
have been able to accomplish his object. When the fire burnt up again
brightly, Ceolwulf, to his disgust, found that the terrible witch whom
he had so dreaded was no other than the poor old slave Deva, the most
despised of the female serfs in AElfhere's household.
"Why, Deva, woman, how didst thou save thy life when so many better than
thou died around the homestead?"
"It is not the lowly blade of grass the storm lays low, but the lofty
wheatstalk."
"True; but who would have thought of thee being the only one left to
care for our master? Thou art a better woman, Deva, than I took thee
for."
"Ceolwulf," said the invisible AElfhere, "stand not prating there, but
come here that I may see thee, and hear tidings of my sons, if they yet
live."
The woman Deva took up a half-burnt brand from the fire, and going
before Ceolwulf to light him, pointed to a rude couch made of a few
skins.
On this lay a wasted form, the lower limbs swathed in bandages, and a
blood-stained cloth around the head. The face was ghastly white, and an
unkempt and grizzly beard spread over the chest.
"My lord, my lord, it is thou of a surety; but how art thou changed!"
cried Ceolwulf.
"Speak not of that, man; tell me of my boys."
"They are well, my lord, and one is not far hence."
"Not a prisoner in the hands of the traitor Arwald? Tell me not that;
anything but that!"
"No, my lord, not so bad as that. He is safe among a trusty band of men
who have come to win for thee thine own again."
"Thou bringest me life, Ceolwulf. Oh that I could live to revenge me on
that nithing! then I should go to the land of heroes and feast for ever
among my ancestors! But tell me more."
Ceolwulf then narrated the events of the past three weeks, making as
light as he could of the wound of AEdric, and praising the manliness and
enterprise of Wulfstan.
As AElfhere listened his eye grew bright and his breathing quick, while
at the narration of the assault on Cissanceaster he could not forbear to
exclaim, "Well done, brave sword!" "Bravely sped, keen axe!" at each
episode of the hard-fought fight.
"That Caedwalla is worthy to succeed to the throne of Cerdic, and I
trust he may yet fare well! So those strange men," alluding to the
monks, "were hospitable to thee, were they? And yet they were strangers
in blood and language. It is odd how Deva here, instead of handing me
over to Arwald, as she might have done, has nursed me and tended me as
if I were of her race and had always benefited her; but this is no time
for thinking, we must act, Ceolwulf----" Then, suddenly recollecting
his crippled condition, he added, despairingly: "Ah, well, I talk of
acting, who must lie here while death-blows are dealing. Aye, and must
die, too, before I can drink the blood of my enemies."
"Say not so, my lord; with care and attention, and with the assistance
of the bald-headed man I have brought with me, I doubt not we shall have
thee well and on thy legs in a few days."
"No, Ceolwulf, no, my fighting days are done, and I shall soon rest with
my fathers. But enough of this. Thou must get thee back to thy men.
What thinkest thou of bringing them hither? There is water here. Thou
canst make a stout defence of these old walls if thou art attacked. No
fire will hurt them now, and it will be a safe hiding-place, if it be
thought well to keep concealed."
"It is well planned, my lord, but I do not yet know the state of feeling
among the old servants and people round; however, we cannot go on much
longer, for we must have food, and this will do as well as the place
where they now are, or better, for aught I know. Shall I bring them
here to-night, my lord?"
"Aye, Ceolwulf, do so, and that quickly, for I fain would see my little
son before I die. And thou hadst best do it before dawn too, that no
prying eyes may see thy march."
"I will, my lord; but had not Deva best allow the fire to go out, or, at
least, to bank it up, lest any other stray passer should be attracted by
it, as I was?"