added bitterly: "The memory of their evil deeds haunts this place, and
the sons of those who murdered the innocents shudder for the iniquity of
their fathers without knowing wherefore."
"I go, then, my lord; and when thou hearest the cry of the curlew
repeated four times, know it will be the signal of our approach, and let
Deva, there, light a brand, that we may see where to enter."
So saying, Ceolwulf disappeared in the darkness, and Deva prepared to
attend to the fire, banking it up to burn some time, but so as not to
give much light.
It did not take the hardy old Jute long to reach the encampment of his
allies. They had already got things into order, and, under the
practised hand and eye of Athelhune, a fairly defensive breastwork of
timber surrounded the little clearing.
Four men also were posted as sentries, and Ceolwulf was challenged by a
rough voice before he could get nearer than two hundred yards of the
camp, and so well did the man understand his duty that he did this
without himself giving any clue to his whereabouts, having concealed
himself in the brushwood, so as to command the only natural approach.
"'Tis a friend, man--Ceolwulf; let me pass."
On hearing and recognising his voice, the sentry emerged from his
ambush.
"Is all well?" said Ceolwulf.
"Aye, aye, there's naught stirring; but we are all grievous hungry,"
grumbled the man.
"Thou shalt have food enough soon," and Ceolwulf strode past to the
encampment. Here he found all, excepting another man on guard at the
entrance, were sound asleep. Wulfstan was lying near Malachi, and Stuff
was sleeping near a burly Boseham man, who had taken the precaution to
tie a thong tightly to the boy's hands, and allowing sufficient play for
the boy to turn over, had made the other end fast to his own wrist.
Ceolwulf went up to Athelhune, and, shaking him vigorously, soon woke
him up.
"What is it, man? Canst not let me have a quiet night for once?"
growled the still sleepy chieftain.
"Thou shalt sleep fast enough presently, and with better chance of food
and safety than here, but thou must rouse up now. There's work to be
done first, and good news to cheer thee besides. The Eorldoman AElfhere
is still alive."
"Truly?"
"True as I stand here. I have seen him and talked with him."
"That ought to help us much with the country side. When they know their
lord is alive and is at the head of a trusty band, they will gather
thick round him."
"Aye, that they will; but we will talk of this presently. We must move
our camp at once before dawn to where he is."
In a few moments all was stir and confusion. The sentries were still
left at their posts to keep watch, while the others quickly packed up
such things as they had brought. When all was ready, the men were
arranged in line, the sentinels were called in, and Ceolwulf put himself
at the head. The column then filed off into the path, and without
further adventure reached the ford which Ceolwulf had crossed. Here
they halted, while Ceolwulf took three men with him and reconnoitered as
far as the outskirts of the ruins. Stopping here himself, he sent the
men back, telling two of them to halt at equal distances from himself
and the main body, while the third man was to act as guide.
Having given these directions, he imitated the cry of the curlew four
times, at the preconcerted intervals of time.
As Ceolwulf stood awaiting the lighting of the fire-brand that should
have answered his signal, he heard a twig broken a few yards from where
he was standing, and, peering through the gloom, he fancied he descried
a figure move off into a denser part of the thicket.
While he was hesitating whether to follow it or not the flashing of the
torch diverted his attention, and the speedy arrival of the main body
made it necessary to see to their guidance into the ruins. However,
thinking it of very great importance that their movements should not be
observed, and feeling tolerably sure that there was someone concealed
there, he directed four of the young men to go through the bush, and,
either pursue, capture, or kill, any one who might be there.
He then guided the others towards the entrance to the ruins, a
proceeding made all the easier by the light of the torch.
Ceolwulf had not yet told Wulfstan of the discovery he had made, fearing
the boy, in the wild delight of the surprise, should do some foolish
thing, and break the silence so necessary to their movements. He now,
however, took him aside, and, telling him he had something of very great
importance to confide, impressed upon him at the same time the necessity
of absolute quiet. When he saw that the boy was quite ready to give his
submission to what should be required of him, he told the joyful news.
Wulfstan for a moment was almost beside himself with joy, but a look
from Ceolwulf restrained him, and he managed to master his transports.
"Oh, Ceolwulf, where is he?" whispered the boy. "Can't I see him? is he
very ill?"
"Thou shalt see him, Wulf; but he is very ill, and thou must not trouble
him with questions."
"Ceolwulf, hast thou brought my boy?" called the voice of AElfhere.
At the sound of his father's voice Wulfstan started away from Ceolwulf,
and in a moment was at the side of the couch. Pressing his father's
feeble, hot hands, he whispered, "Father, father, I am so glad! I never
thought I should see thee again. Oh, poor father, how thou must have
suffered! Ah! that nithing Arwald, he shall pay for this."
"That's right, my own Wulf, there spake the blood of the free Jute. I
shall die now happier, knowing that I leave behind me one who will one
day grow up a worthy upholder of the honour of Cerdic," said AElfhere,
fondly caressing his son's curly head.
A deep sigh close by startled Wulfstan.
"Why, father, who is here? didst thou hear that sigh?"
"It's only old Deva, my son; she has been good to me, and thou must do
all thou canst to make her more comfortable when thou gainest possession
of the homestead."
"Why does she sigh like that? father, is she ill, too?"
"No, but she is a woman, and a slave, and has poor, dastardly thoughts.
She would not have us avenge our wrongs; what thinkest thou of that?"
and AElfhere laughed a scoffing laugh.
"Why, father, that's what brother Malachi says too."
And he was going to tell his father all about that curious man, when
Ceolwulf came up, bringing Athelhune with him, and then they all three
talked over the fortifying of the ruins and their plans for getting
provisions.
These topics did not please Wulfstan, who very soon dropped off to sleep
by the side of his father. Deva brought a stone, and, covering it with a
portion of one of the skins off the couch, placed it under his head for
a pillow, and so left him, after throwing over him another covering.
The rest of the band had now settled down for the night, sentries, as
before, being placed at proper posts, and all was once more silent.
Before Ceolwulf prepared to take his well-earned rest for the short
period of the night that yet remained, he inquired whether the four men
whom he had sent to follow up the figure he had seen in the bushes had
returned. Greatly to his dissatisfaction he heard that they had come
back, but had discovered no signs of anyone.
"We shall hear more of that to-morrow, I doubt not," growled the old
man, as he lay down to rest not far from his master, AElfhere.
The next day was some little way advanced before the men were astir,
Wulfstan, as usual, being the first to awake.
He could scarcely believe he was not still dreaming when he saw his
wounded father lying on the couch beside him; however, recollections of
the past night soon brought back a sense of reality, and he gazed at the
worn and ghastly face of his father with tears of pity and sympathy.
One by one the others woke up, until at last the whole party was up and
about. Such of the food as was left from the previous day was now
divided equally, but it was not enough to satisfy the hunger of these
vigorous men, and all agreed that something must be done to obtain a
fresh supply.
Ceolwulf and Athelhune decided that the first thing to do was to put the
ruins in a state of defence, and for this purpose all hands were set to
work at once. The hewn stones that faced the rough rubble of the walls
were piled up as skilfully as they were able to arrange it, and the
space to be defended was much contracted; but they took care to enclose
the well within their walls.
Cutting down some of the brushwood which grew close against the ruins,
they made a rude shelter with the boughs, and wattled it with hazel.
Into this cabin they carried the Eorldoman AElfhere, whose wounds had
been examined by Malachi, and pronounced very serious; indeed, it was a
marvel he had lived so long, for the battle-axe of the Jutes and Saxons
did not leave much life in a foeman when once it was driven home. In
AElfhere's case, however, the blow had been partially turned aside by
the eorldoman's own axe. When Athelhune, who now that the conduct of the
expedition was completed had taken command in right of his rank as
eorldoman and chief officer of Caedwalla, saw that the defences could be
completed without much more labour, he consulted with Ceolwulf about the
necessity of sending out a party to forage. There was no question about
the absolute need of getting food, only it was a matter of great
importance not to alienate the sympathy of AElfhere's ceorls or
labourers; but as nearly all the cattle and crops, of which there was
very slight store, belonged to AElfhere, and were now in the hands of
Arwald's eorldoman who was left in the occupation of the house at
Braedynge, there was less chance of their taking anything that belonged
to any one else. At this early time in the Saxon settlements the free
rovers, who had come under the leadership of their own elected chiefs,
were still very free and independent, and the difference between the
eorls and the ceorls was much less marked than it was in the later Saxon
time, when in the days of AEthelred the life of a ceorl was valued at a
third of the "were," or money value of a thane, and a sixth of that of a
royal thane: but in the seventh century, and in the unsettled state of
the lawless parts of the South Saxon and West Saxon kingdoms, the right
of each eorldoman depended very much upon his might, and the title to
property, both real and personal, rested chiefly upon the power of
defending what each man possessed by his own strong arm and good sword,
supported by such adherents as affection or interest attached to him.
It was therefore decided that at nightfall Ceolwulf should take out two
of the most enterprising men, and carry off what he could from the barns
around the old house of AElfhere. The men who were told off for this
service were directed to rest. The others went on with the completion
of the defences.
After Malachi had attended to the wounded and seemingly dying eorldoman,
he began to examine the ruins of the building in which he found himself.
The whole place was littered with _debris_, broken pottery, fallen
columns, decaying rafters that had once supported the roof, and tiles.
The work of clearing away a space round the well had disclosed several
curious short columns made of tiles all very close together, but the
spaces had been hastily filled again to render the standing room all the
firmer. During the progress of raising the walls the men had uncovered
here and there fragments of coloured designs, which they would have
liked to explore further, but Athelhune was anxious to get the defences
in a fitting state to stand an assault before nightfall, and all
examination of them was at that time put off.
Malachi, however, being looked upon as a rather feeble idiot, was
allowed to do what he liked, and he had now uncovered a picture such as
he had never seen before, at least not in that style and size.
Such art productions as he had ever seen consisted in a few pictures in
an illuminated manuscript which belonged to a monastery in his native
Ireland or Ierne: among them was one representing our Lord under the
symbol of the Good Shepherd. The pictures were the work of a Byzantine
artist, and traces of classical influence were naturally seen in the
designs and their treatment. He was, therefore, at once struck by the
similarity of the large figure playing on some musical instrument,
surrounded by animals, to the illumination of the Good Shepherd. His
delight, which was very great, was caused not only by the novelty and
beauty of the discovery, but because he concluded that there must have
been Christians here--a somewhat rash conclusion to come to on such a
slight foundation.
While he was removing still more of the rubbish, he was aroused from his
absorption by an aged voice near him saying:
"Ah, many's the time I have looked at that picture, and thought of them
that did it."
"What! woman, thou knowest who did this?" cried Malachi in astonishment,
looking at the aged form of the old woman.
Without immediately answering him, Deva looked at him for some time, and
then slowly said:
"And who be ye? Thou art not a Saxon; thy speech is different, and thy
clothes are different, and thou lookest not like a blood-thirsty fellow
such as they are. What are ye?"
"I am a poor servant of our Lord, come into these parts to see if I
cannot do the Lord's work among the heathen."
"The Lord!--the Lord's work!--the heathen!" repeated the old woman as
one in a daze. "'Tis long, long since I heard these words. I doubt if
there's any left in all these parts who know even what such words mean.
Man, what art thou? I mean whence comest thou? What race art thou of?"
Malachi briefly explained that he was an Irish monk come to preach among
the heathen Saxons, and on questioning her, in turn, was overjoyed to
find that she still had preserved a dim memory of the truths of
Christianity, obscured by the mists of six generations of bondage, and
unassisted by any contact with other Christians. On being questioned
closely, however, she acknowledged she had heard that there was still a
holy man left, who was said to live in a cave in the face of a high
cliff overlooking the sea. Tradition said he had learnt what he knew
from a succession of holy men who had retired there when the island was
taken by the Jutes under Whitgar and Stuffa.
The two were now joined by Wulfstan, who had always been very frightened
of poor old Deva, whom he looked upon as a witch; but now that he had
seen so much of the world he felt it would not do to have these ideas
any longer. As there was now nothing more to be done but wait patiently
for Ceolwulf to return with the party that had gone out after the food,
he asked Malachi to tell him a story; but Malachi, who wanted to learn
more about these ruins, suggested that Deva should tell them all she
knew.
The poor old woman was in a talking mood. She looked upon the arrival
of Malachi as an answer to her complaint of the night before, and she
somehow felt that she was not so lonely. Here was a man who had the
same ideas as herself, and knew far more than she did of the real, true
faith, and one who, like the Master she dimly served, was ready to lay
down his life for the good of others.
The wish of her heart was going to be realised; she would learn more
about the Lord before she died. Being in this happy frame of mind, she
was willing to do what was wanted of her, and said she would try and
recollect things told her by her mother and grandmother.
Wulfstan stretched himself on the pavement to listen, while Malachi sat
with hands folded and an intelligent interest on his ascetic features.
*CHAPTER XI.*
*"MEMORIES OF LONG AGO."*
"It's very difficult to remember things clearly," said old Deva,
meditatively. "There's mother now, and what she said, and then
grandmother, and how many did she say there were before her, all slaves
like me? It was granny's grandmother that was made the first slave, and
she was born a princess--at least, so grannie said; but perhaps she
didn't know," and the poor old woman sank into a reverie, from which
brother Malachi roused her by saying gently:
"But who lived in these ruins, mother? Canst thou tell us who they were
that built these buildings, and made this beautiful pavement?"
"Aye, that I can; they were my own forefathers--at least, some of them
were. Those must have been lovely days, when the land was tilled in
peace, each man worshipped God as He ought to be worshipped, and there
was plenty and goodwill throughout the length and breadth of the
land.... But those days will never come again! There's naught but
ravaging, and murdering, and starving, and no one left to tell us the
way of salvation. And, thank the Lord, I shall soon depart, and there's
none left after me to mourn her weary life out as I have mourned mine."
"Dost really mean to say, Deva, that thou art the daughter of a
princess?" said Wulfstan, wonderingly.
"Aye, that I am, for all my rags, and my old age, and my ugliness----
No! not daughter--what am I talking about?--but descended from one, just
as thy father is always saying he is descended from Cerdic. And now I
come to think about it, I must be a good two lives nearer to my princess
than thy father to his Cerdic, for I am old enough to be AElfhere's
grandmother. My ancestress was the daughter of Natanleod, and he ruled
all this land before thy Saxons or Jutes came here."
"Natanleod," said Malachi, repeating the name as if he had heard it
before, but could not quite recollect where. "There were some people
who came to a place near my home who told me of a great prince or king
who, when the Angles first came over to Britain, had fought a great
fight against them; but, as it was a long time ago, they could not
remember much about it, but I think his name sounded like Natanleod. I
know they said he was a Christian, and they thought he was killed in a
battle; and now I come to think of it, they mentioned the very name
Cerdic, who thou sayest was AElfhere's ancestor, as the name of the
heathen who was attacking him."
"How odd it would be if you had met some of old Deva's relations!" said
Wulfstan.
"Ah, my child, they were scattered far over the earth," said Deva,
mournfully. "Some went to a place called Ierne,[1] some to a country
over the water called--called--my old memory won't help me now, but it
sounded like 'Morick.'"
[1] Ireland.
"Was it Armorica, mother?" said Malachi.
"Why, that was the name, to be sure. Now how didst thou know that?
They've called me witch-wife many a time, because they said I knew more
than human beings ought to know, but my knowledge is ignorance to what
thine is."
"It is nothing so very wonderful, mother. Those same strangers I told
thee of often told me where their people went to, and many a time they
would have liked to have crossed the sea again to meet those of their
kith and kin that were scattered abroad."
"Well, well. And maybe thou hast met with those that really were my
blood. Ah, they would not be proud of poor old Deva, the slave daughter
of Helva, a slave too. How things do change, to be sure!"
"But, mother," put in Malachi, who thought he saw signs in her of going
off into a reverie again, "what about this house? Thou hast not told us
yet who built it."
"And how do I know who built it?" said the old woman, testily.
"Why, thou saidest just now thy forefathers built it," said Wulfstan.
"Then if I told him, why does he ask me again?" said Deva, wearily. "I
shall go and see how the wounded eorldoman is."
"Don't go yet, Deva," said Malachi. "He was sleeping very well when I
came to look at these pavements, and we should hear him if he moved or
wanted anything. And so thou art descended from the great Prince
Natanleod, art thou! In those days men were indeed cleverer than they
are now. There are none living near here who could work like those who
made these walls or wrought these pictures. Thou canst not remember
what thy grandmother said about the destruction of her grandmother's
home?"
"Yes I can, though," said Deva. "Ah! well I can remember her telling
me, for she would take me up here on a summer's evening when the young
moon was just going down there behind yon hill. These floors were not
covered up so much then, and many stones have fallen down since. She
would always choose that evening in the month when the moon was like
that, and it was getting dark and dusk--a time when all the land is
hushed, and young men and maidens like to meet by a lonely hillside or
pleasant dell, while the cockchafers buzz and the beetles boom. Because,
she said, it was on an evening like that her grandmother had always told
her the story, and it was on an evening like that the dreadful deed was
done. They came, they came," said the old woman, stretching out her
skinny arm and pointing with most dramatic action to a large gap in the
ruins towards the land-locked Braedynge Haven, whose shining waters
could be seen framed in this very gap, "up there"----
But Deva did not finish her sentence, for both Wulfstan and Malachi, who
had followed the old woman's action and gesture, broke in upon her words
with a wild and simultaneous cry that rang through the silence of the
ruins, like the shrill scream of an affrighted sea-bird, as it suddenly
espies the robber of its nest suspended overhead.
[Illustration: How Deva, Malachi, and Wulfstan, were surprised by ye
Wihtwaras]
There, entering by the same gap through which their ancestors had come
to slaughter the ancestors of Deva, was a band of armed men, who, the
moment they saw that their approach was known, added to the din and
confusion that already prevailed by shouting their battle-cry together,
and rushing upon the few men who, with Athelhune, were left to defend
the encampment.
Malachi and Wulfstan had, as they shouted "to arms," darted back into
the enclosure, nearly fenced in by this time, fortunately, and had with
great promptitude begun to pile up the stones that had been left to
close in the only means of exit or entrance for the little
fortification, when suddenly Wulfstan darted out again, and returned in
another minute helping poor old Deva over the rough stones.
"One moment more, and I should have been too late," cried Wulfstan,
joyously, as he led the good old woman up to his father's side.
"It's only putting off the fated day, Wulfy, a little longer," said
AElfhere, drearily. "But this torture is worse than all that has gone
before, for I must lie here and see all who are faithful to me and my
little son slain before my eyes, and I unable to move hand or foot, or
strike a blow for their safety. Oh! Woden, all-Father, help me!"
It was, indeed, a hopeless prospect. There were, besides Malachi, old
Deva, Wulfstan, and the wounded eorldoman, only Athelhune and three men,
and the attacking force consisted of at least twelve; but the quick eyes
of Wulfstan detected among them five or six faces of men he had known as
ceorls on his father's farm, and he shouted out loudly to them by name,
calling on them to turn on the false traitors who had done such foul
wrong, and to fight for their lord, AElfhere, who was still alive.
It did not seem, however, that his words produced any effect; for the
band of men, seeing that their surprise had in part failed owing to the
inner line of wall that had been raised, after consulting a moment
together, advanced on three sides, with the evident intention of taking
the little fort by assault.
At first sight it seemed as though nothing could save the little party
inside the hastily contrived defences, and this was evidently the view
of their assailants, who rushed on to the attack in all the confidence
of an easy victory; but the very extremity of their position supplied
the defenders with the courage of despair.
Athelhune, with the quick apprehension of one suited to command, had
heard with pleasure Wulfstan's words, and hastily told him to point out
to him the men whom he had addressed. Two were advancing on the side
where Athelhune and Wulfstan were standing.