their arms, and rushing upon the column not more than ten yards from
them. Athelhune had ordered them to strike first at the horses, and
then, when the riders were down, if time were left, to attack the
riders. In between the first and second ranks Athelhune forced his way,
striking furiously at the hind legs of the horses of the leading rank,
and the forelegs of the horses of the rank behind. He was ably
supported by his followers, who plunged in behind him. The confusion
and uproar were terrific; the frightened horses reared, plunged, and
neighed horribly with pain, many came down bringing their riders with
them, and in some few instances crushing their assailants in their fall.
The horses of the front rank sprang madly forward, and such as had been
hamstrung, struggled wildly with their forelegs, and then sank
helplessly down. Many of them that had only received slanting slashes
and had had no tendons severed, galloped madly away, in most cases
throwing their riders at the first plunge. Hitherto the attack had been
very successful, fortune, as usual, favouring the bold. Arwald had been
one of those whose horse had fallen, and that burly chieftain had come
heavily to the ground; but the fall of his horse had also saved his
life, for Athelhune, determining to kill him, if possible, before they
retreated, aimed a terrific blow at the Wihtwara's head, but the wounded
horse at the same moment gave one despairing plunge, and kicking
violently with its hind leg, it happened to strike Athelhune and break
his leg with the force of the blow; seeing their leader fall, the few
men who were behind him shouted to the others to escape while there was
yet time, and such as were able to do so, extricated themselves from the
plunging, writhing, mass of men and horses, and sped away towards the
homestead. The success of this desperate onslaught was dearly purchased
by the fall of Athelhune; it was true the onward march of Arwald and his
men was delayed some few moments, and much damage was done to the
horses, while some two or three of the men had been killed outright, and
about ten more seriously wounded, either by cuts from the axes, or by
bruises from their falls, several having had their legs broken by their
falling horses; but the attacking party had also suffered severely, some
having been crushed under the horses, and others having been kicked by
the affrighted animals, as Athelhune had been. So that the sum total of
the success of this act of devotion on the part of the West Saxon
chieftain was the giving time for Wulf the Atheling to form his men, and
evacuate the homestead, and the death or putting _hors de combat_ of
some dozen of their enemy. But these advantages were more than
counterbalanced by the capture of Athelhune, and the desperate feeling
of furious wrath now doubly aroused in the fierce Arwald.
Rising from the ground with difficulty, the chief of the Wihtwaras
looked a truly awful spectacle. He was covered with blood; not that he
had received any wound, but the blood from his fallen horse had flowed
copiously over him as he lay on the ground. His eyes were red and
fiery, like the wicked eyes of a furious wild boar. His first thought
was to dash out the brains of his helpless assailant as he lay on the
ground; but while watching his opportunity, for the struggling mass all
round rendered a certain blow a matter of difficulty, a cruel thought
crossed his mind, and he determined to spare Athelhune's life for the
present. By this time the confusion had become a little less wild. The
loud voice of Arwald shouted directions to the eorls who were nearest
him, and in a little while something like order was restored. The
mounted men were drawn up on one side, and the infantry were ordered to
march past and then form up beyond, and halt until the casualties were
counted up and fresh dispositions made. Athelhune was not forgotten.
Arwald with a wicked light in his eye, had him seized by two
fierce-looking Wihtwaras, and strict orders were given them to answer
for him with their lives. It was found that fifteen horses were
incapacitated or missing, and twelve men, among whom were five eorldomen
and three ceorls of importance. More furious than ever, and burning to
come to close quarters with AElfhere's men, Arwald gave the order for
the column to advance, but this time he took the precaution to send out
some of the horsemen on either flank to act as scouts, and a small body
some distance ahead as an advance guard. Arwald himself took the best
horse he could find among those left, and the eorldoman who was thus
compelled to give up his animal contented himself by taking another from
one of the ceorls, who had to become a foot soldier, and was naturally
very sulky in consequence. The whole episode, which has taken so many
words, to describe, really only occupied a quarter of an hour but every
moment was of importance, and the march was pressed on more rapidly to
make up for lost time. In a few minutes more the advanced guard turned
the foot of the hill, and came in sight of AElfhere's house. At the
same moment Wulf's men were descried hastening down to the ford, which
was fast becoming impassable, owing to the rapidly rising tide. All the
fugitives from Athelhune's force had not yet reached him, nor had all
the tenants and dependants of AElfhere yet got across the Yare. The
news of the sudden approach of Arwald had caused the greatest
consternation among these poor people, and all were hurrying down to get
over the ford before it was too late. The position of affairs was at
once reported to Arwald, who galloped up instantly to inspect the
situation, giving orders for the rest of his men to come on at the
double. With the quick glance of an experienced warrior, he decided
that they must attack at once. He gave his men no rest, therefore,
until he had brought them down to within a short distance of Wulf's men,
who had not yet been able to cross the Yare, blocked as the ford was
with fugitives.
Wulf, the Atheling, now that he saw his own supineness was likely to
cause a great catastrophe, did all he could to remedy the evil. He drew
up his men in the best way he could, and determined to stand on the
defensive, for he saw that with so powerful a force within striking
distance of him, if once he attempted to retire, destruction would await
him. There was one thing in his favour--his men were all fresh, while
Arwald's people were tired with their long march.
Arwald halted his men as they came up, and gave them time to recover
their breath, an ominous sign to Wulf, who, seeing how leisurely Arwald
was now going to work, knew that his foe felt sure he had caught them in
his toils. Their position was very critical, almost desperate. In
front, was a powerful force of nearly four hundred men led by a
determined and infuriated chief; behind them, was an impassable stream,
and no succour to come to them. Seeing the desperate nature of their
plight, Wulf thought he would try what a parley would do. He called,
therefore, to Arwald, and invited him to settle the dispute by a single
combat with himself, "for," he said, "these men are all kinsfolk. Why
should they shed each other's blood?"
Arwald only laughed a jeering laugh. "Young man," he said, "thou shalt
fight fast enough, if that is what thou wantest. My men are thirsting
for blood, but no power on earth can save these doomed slaves of the
rascal AElfhere. Before another sun sets I have vowed to have their
lives."
"Thou hearest that, my men," said Wulf calmly, to his followers.
"Arwald always was a liar and a villain. Let us show him once more as
he really is."
*CHAPTER XVIII.*
*"LET'S WHIP THE STRAGGLERS O'ER THE SEAS AGAIN."*
All Arwald's men having now come in, that chieftain quickly drew them up
ready for attack. His object was to let none escape; indeed, there was
not much chance of any of them doing so, even if he had not taken
especial precautions against it. The sea had by this time come up, and
all the waste mud of Braedynge Haven was a glittering, sparkling lake.
Wulf's little boat was floating not far off, dancing to its moorings on
the rippling wavelets. A few despairing fugitives were sitting near the
now impassable ford, awaiting the issue of the fight, with a listless
expectancy. Their own fate would soon be settled, and the only doubt
was how they would be killed. Some, however, who still kept their wits
about them, were slipping away towards the other ford nearer Sandown
Bay, where Ceolwulf had first crossed, and which was some two miles
distant.
The few moments of suspense before the fight began, were demoralising to
Wulf, the Atheling's, handful of men. To stand still to be attacked is
at all times a trying business when the force to be attacked is equal,
or larger, than the assailing force; but when the latter is four times
the number of the former, and the fight is to be a desperate
hand-to-hand _melee_, with such formidable weapons as axe and broad
sword, the trial to the nerves is naturally very much greater, and Wulf
the Atheling would have acted much more wisely if he had charged the
enemy before they had recovered their breath, or were drawn up in order.
The one important thing was to keep his men's courage up, and for that
there was nothing like action, and there Athelhune had shown better
generalship, although the fortune of war had gone against him. Had Wulf
possessed Athelhune's decision, he might have broken Arwald's men for a
time, and then been able to cross the ford before they could rally
again; but unfortunately, Wulf was only a handsome, careless,
thoughtless fighter, of no more use than any other brave thrall or ceorl
there. He had no judgment, no decision, no head.
Arwald, without further delay, gave the order to fall on, and rode
straight for Wulf the Atheling. There was no indecision now on Wulf's
part, the fight was coming; there was nothing more to do but use arm,
and back, and foot--no head to direct others was now required; each man
must fight his own way, and sell his life as dearly as possible. Calmly
awaiting the charge of the heavy horseman, Wulf looked his antagonist
straight in the face, and never blenched. The spear-point of Arwald's
weapon came swiftly towards him, the powerful horse sprang, with long
strides, to bear him to the ground; another second and Wulf would be
transfixed, trampled on, dead. His axe flashed, his strong and active
figure sprang aside; another gleam of the axe and Arwald was toppled off
his horse. The first blow sheared off the spear-point, and the second,
swung round at Arwald as he was carried past his victim, caught the
chieftain between the shoulders, and rolled him over his horse's neck to
the ground. But the blow had done no further injury, given as it was at
an object that was retiring; it only had sufficient force to knock
Arwald off, there was not power enough to cut through his mail shirt.
Before Wulf could follow his blow by a second, he received a swinging
cut on his helmet, which caused sparks to dance before his eyes, and his
head to buzz with humming dizziness; instinctively striking straight
before him, his axe clove the thigh of a horseman in the act to pierce
Beornwulf, who was by his side. But blows were raining on all sides:
the clash of sword and axe, the smashing sound of crashing wood, or
sharp swish of cloven iron, as blows went home; the groan of
sorely-stricken men, or the shriek of some agonised fallen one, as the
combatants trode upon his prostrate body, wild yells and muttered oaths,
and dust and ruin; so went on the dreadful work for some few minutes.
So thick was the _melee_ that friend blindly hit friend, and no man
could tell how the battle was going. Arwald had risen to his feet, more
mad with rage than ever, and struck wildly, and with prodigious force,
now right, now left, now down, hewing a way through the men opposed to
him. Several heavy blows he received, but none that incapacitated him,
and at last it dawned upon him that he was striking at empty air.
Before him was the river Yare, behind him was the fight, he had cut
right through the little force. Grimly he turned and looked at the
raging mass. Savagely he smiled as he rested on his gory axe, and
watched the wild and ghastly murder.
[Illustration: How Wulf ye Atheling waited ye onslaught of Arwald and
blenched not]
There was fierce fighting still going on, and it was difficult to see
the extent of the loss; many men were down; some were trying to crawl
from among the legs of the combatants, others lay still; while others
again, in whom the fierce spirit of the fight still glowed in spite of
their desperate wounds, clutched at the legs of their antagonists and
brought them to the ground. But the fight was too fierce to last long,
and they were too crowded to ply their ghastly blows with sufficient
effect. Seeing this, Arwald shouted in a stentorian voice, when a lull
in the murderous din allowed him a chance for his words to be heard,
that all his men were to fall back and rally around him; at the same
moment he cleft to the chin a wounded Wihtwara, who was trying to crawl
down to the waterside to hide among the sedgy banks. Pleased with this
dastardly stroke, he strode past the writhing, struggling mass, and took
up his position some little way off on the right of the fight. His own
men sullenly obeyed, drawing off from their antagonists reluctantly. It
was then seen how terrible had been the few minutes of that cruel work.
The ground was strewn with dead, the nature of many of their wounds was
awful--too awful to be described--and the scanty remnant of Wulf's
little force remained resting on their axes or their swords. The
combatants were now able to judge of their losses, and the effects of
the fight. Very few of Arwald's horsemen remained mounted, and many of
his best warriors were lying on the ground; but Wulf's men were greatly
reduced. About two-thirds were still left, and the Atheling himself was
able to wield his axe; but many had received desperate wounds, and in
several cases the power to use axe or sword was entirely gone, as from
the close nature of the fighting, and the absence of any guard to sword
or axe, the fingers had suffered severely; and the maimed appearance of
the men told how hopeless the next struggle must be, for of the
two-thirds that survived, at least half were disabled in either one hand
or the other, while many had lost all four fingers of one hand, and a
thumb off the other, and in some instances both hands were shorn off at
the wrists. Arwald's people had suffered in the same way, but the
proportion of fighters remained about the same as before.
Wulf the Atheling saw that their hours were numbered; each man of his
force felt the same. He himself was bleeding profusely from a large
gash in his shoulder, and one arm was nearly useless. His axe was
notched, and stained deep-red. His helmet was deeply dented, and he
looked faint and ghastly; but the spirit of his race was in him, and he
prepared to sell his life as dearly as might be. Turning to his men he
said briefly:
"Comrades, we shall meet ere long in Valhalla; remember, the more we
slay, the happier we shall be; rejoice then, that we shall so soon live
for ever, and shall have so many to meet us there."
Then turning to Arwald, he cried tauntingly:
"Boaster that thou art, where are thy young men? Look at the ground in
front of thee. Who measured his length upon it? Dastard and villain,
no wonder thou darest not fight it out with me, but must bring four to
one to the fight, and yet canst not beat us. Are the Wihtwaras no
better than this? But yesterday, an old woman--a bald-headed one--and a
child, killed six of your warriors. Go bring thy women to kill us, they
will fight better than thou."
Arwald, disdaining to reply, led his men nearer to the Yare, and
advanced once more to the attack. Wulf and his men grimly awaited them.
Suddenly the Atheling heard his name called, and looking across the
Yare, he saw old Ceolwulf standing by the water's edge, and at the same
moment a whizzing sound rushed through the air, followed by a yell from
one of Arwald's men:
"Make for the boat, Prince Wulf; thou canst reach her if thou makest a
dash for it; at least some of ye can be saved!" shouted Ceolwulf,
pointing to the boat which rode at her moorings not more than a few
hundred yards away.
The advice was good, but could Prince Wulf act on it? Could he leave
his men to be slaughtered, and seek safety in flight? Life was dear to
him: he was handsome, young, and loved pleasure. He could do more good
with a few men to defend the stockade, than by dying there, he thought.
Fresh hope came to him, he wavered, and as Arwald's advance seemed
unaccountably checked, he determined to take advantage of the moment,
and make a rush for the boat. Instantly the whole band broke up. The
faith in the pleasures of Valhalla was overbalanced by the desire to
realise those of this earth a little longer; and each man as he was able
ran for dear life. Arwald gave a yell of rage, and shouted to his men
to follow at the top of their speed; but as he started at a run to set
the example himself, he received a violent blow on the side of his
forehead, that for a moment stunned him; many of his men were falling,
or were receiving severe cuts. What was it? Where did these invisible
blows come from?
"There, there, from the other side of the water!" shouted one of his
men, pointing to a large party of boys led by Wulfstan, who was plying
his sling with delighted vigour. The speaker was unable to finish his
sentence, for he received a crashing blow on his mouth which knocked
several of his teeth down his throat. Arwald's rage was frightful to
see, and the pain of his cut forehead, combined with the partial
blindness which resulted from it, for the blood from the wound ran down
over his eye, made him dangerous to approach. But he still pressed on
after the fugitives, hoarsely shouting to his people to hasten up. But
Wulfstan and his troop of boys kept plying the solid mass with stones,
and richly they enjoyed the fun, for almost every stone took effect.
Arwald's force was compelled to draw farther away from the water's edge.
Unfortunately for the full success of the diversion, where the boat was
riding at anchor was out of reach of the stones, and now that Arwald's
people saw where the galling flights of stones came from, they kept out
of range and continued the pursuit of Wulf and his men.
But the check the enemy had received gave a long start to the fugitives,
which they had done their best to improve, and Wulf had reached the
water's edge and was hastily splashing through the shallow sea; he was
now wading out to the boat and was scrambling in, followed by two or
three others, the rest were crowding behind; it was clear the boat would
not hold more than nine or ten, and what would become of the others?
Therefore each man ran, and splashed, with desperate haste; many had
fallen as they ran, dizzy with loss of blood; one or two, sullenly
desperate, giving up all hope and determined to die hard, turned to face
the enemy, prepared to brain the first man that dared to come near them;
a few even did not await the foe, but rushed fiercely to meet him,
shouting their death song, and met their end like ancient northern
heroes. Beornwulf and Osborn and two of the Boseham men, who had fought
gallantly, still survived; the two latter were close beside Wulf the
Atheling, and all three had now clambered into the boat. The breeze was
blowing fresh off the land; one of the South Saxons ran to the bows, and
with a blow of his axe severed the moorings, and instantly the boat
drifted away from the shore. Wulf had lost so much blood that the
moment he had climbed into the boat he fell into the bottom of it, and
lost all consciousness. The two South Saxons were both wounded, one had
lost three fingers off one hand, and the other had a terrific gash in
his forearm, so that they were not able to do much in the way of rowing;
indeed, they did not attempt it, but were content to sit down and let
the boat drift before the wind, merely steering her by an oar over the
stern.
Beornwulf and Osborn shouted to them to come back and take in more, but
with the callousness of utter weariness and exhaustion, they paid no
attention, scarcely looking up or heeding anything, and thus drifted far
down the broad Braedynge haven towards the entrance.
When the fugitives saw that they were abandoned, and no hope left, they
uttered yells of execration on their leader, and stood helpless and
stunned for a moment. One or two tore off their armour, and began to
wade out as far as they could, and then swam for the opposite shore.
The shallowness of the water greatly aided them, and many more followed
their example. In this way about twenty reached the shore of
Binbrygge-ea, and were helped up to the stockade by Ceolwulf and the
boys, many of whom, however, with the curiosity of their age, waited to
see what would become of those left.
There were not many now; Osborn had swum across, Beornwulf was too much
exhausted. He and three more stood gloomily resting on their notched
swords awaiting their death.
Arwald, and some three or four others, had reached the edge of the sea.
Grimly the wounded warriors in the sparkling water eyed them.
"Run to water at last," cried Arwald; "Look at the water rats that are
afraid even of their own water."
"But we are not afraid of thee, thou nithing," shouted Beornwulf, "come
and kill us if thou darest."
Whatever faults Arwald had, he certainly was not a coward; but the day
was his, he had done enough fighting, and he saw no reason why he should
risk his life in a desperate encounter with reckless men who must die
sooner or later. He gave orders, therefore, for some of his people to
sit down on the shore, and wait until the wounded men should be tired of
standing in the water. He himself then drew off with the rest of his
followers, and gave orders for all to repose, and get what refreshment
they could, until the tide had gone down sufficiently to allow them all
to cross the Yare at the ford, and advance upon the fugitives.
Beornwulf, seeing that he could not entice any of the men to come out to
him in the water, where he hoped, from the unsteady nature of the
foothold, to be able to obtain an advantage over his adversaries, felt
it was no use standing there to slowly die a miserable death. He
turned, therefore, to the two or three who still stood with him, and
declared his intention of returning to the shore to sell his life as
dearly as might be. The others gave a sullen assent, and without giving
their wounds any more time to stiffen, they waded back to the land.
Arwald, before he left the men on the shore, had given orders to take
the West Saxon and the rebel Wihtwaras, alive if possible. He intended,
when the rest of AElfhere's men were taken, to have all the prisoners
brought before him and his eorls at a banquet, and then put them to
death. As Beornwulf and his companions therefore, approached the shore,
Arwald's followers got up and warily awaited them, and no sooner had
they emerged from the water than all the enemy hurled themselves upon
them. Beornwulf had only time to whirl his sword round his head,
severely wounding one of his adversaries, when he was borne to the
ground, pinioned by four men, and bound hand and foot in a moment. One
of his companions was, more fortunately, slain, but the other two shared
the same fate as Beornwulf; faint, weary, and despondent, they were
conveyed in triumph to the main body, and were placed beside Athelhune
to await their fate.
The afternoon was now far advanced; but Arwald was so inflamed with rage
against his opponents, that he did not intend to give his men much rest,
only sufficient to allow them to get such fresh vigour as would enable
them to overcome any further resistance with certainty.
But besides the incitements of passionate revenge, there were other and
more practical reasons why the attack should go on at once. They had
brought very little food with them, hoping to take AElfhere by surprise,
or, at least, capture the homestead before the cattle and provisions
should have been carried off. They were now feeling strongly the calls
of hunger, but there was no chance of their getting any substantial food
until they had crossed the Yare and come up with the encampment of the
fugitives, or discovered some of their cattle.
There was no possibility of crossing the ford for another hour at least,
and Arwald and his chief eorldomen improved the occasion by inspecting
the men, and appointing leaders in the place of those who had fallen,
and also in having their arms and belongings collected and placed
securely under the same guard which was watching the prisoners. The
arms were distributed to the men who had lost their own or had them
injured, and in this way a better equipped, although much smaller force,
was ready once more to renew the attack. The followers of AElfhere were
in a very hopeless position; all the powerful able-bodied men were
either killed or prisoners, and all their arms and accoutrements had
become the spoil of the conquerors. Only Osborn, and a few men, had
been able to escape to join their companions on Yaver Hill, and these
had been compelled to throw away their arms. The little boat, with the
Atheling Wulf, when last seen, was scudding before the wind, through the
narrow entrance of Braedynge haven, for they had managed to set up a
sail in her, and were evidently steering straight for Selsea. They had
a fair wind, but the chances were small of their ever getting there, for
the men were desperately exhausted with their wounds, and had no food.
Impatiently, Arwald waited for the tide to fall. He did not want the
wounds of his men to become stiff, and they were all extremely hungry;
besides, every minute gave the fugitives time to strengthen such
defences as they could make, or contrive hiding-places for themselves in
the dense scrub and bush that clothed Binbrygge-ea.
With the wind blowing right on Selsea, there was not any fear of
Caedwalla coming yet; even if he had defeated the South Saxon eorls; but
should the wind change--and it appeared to be getting rather more off
the land--there would be every possibility of an invasion from the West
Saxons: and Arwald had received news before he left Wihtgaresbyrig, that
Caedwalla had given orders for a fleet to assemble at Portanceaster,
which might at any moment set sail for Wihtea.