dismounting, as Arwald did, they led their men into the wood, leaving
the horses outside under a guard. The attacking force was so powerful
that there were enough men to assault the stockade all round. And
Arwald trusted to a combined rush to carry the place. The palisades
were about nine feet high, in some places higher; it was, therefore, no
easy matter to get over, but the leaders ordered their men to cut down
trees from the wood outside, and make a sloping approach to the
palisades. The sharp noise of axes felling trees, resounded on all
sides for the next quarter of an hour or more, and then crash, crack,
swish, came the trees to the ground, and again the busy axes were plied,
lopping off the limbs and trimming the trunks. As soon as the trees
were ready, they were carried up to the stockade and rolled, or placed,
at the foot of it, and here the service became dangerous, for the
defenders were naturally not idle. They had pierced holes in the
stockade, and putting their spears through, they tried to stab their
assailants as they came near, while others leant over the top of the
palisades and struck down at the men engaged in putting the timber in
its place. They had very few missile weapons, and could therefore do
little to annoy the enemy at a distance, and were compelled to await the
completion of the preparations for the assault in enforced idleness.
Ceolwulf had distributed his men to the best advantage, mingling the
young with the old, in the way most likely to benefit both, and all were
ready for the final death struggle. Few words were spoken on either
side, while the placing of the logs outside went on rapidly. The
thickest trees were first rolled up and then the ends of the next set of
logs were placed on these, crosswise, with the other end on the ground;
and in this way a rough, sloping, approach was made up to the stockade.
Where one set of trees was not enough another log was rolled up on the
cross ones, which were at right angles to the palisade, and these were
wedged up so as to make them more secure. The stockade was approached
by about twenty different sloping stages on all sides, but as they did
not touch each other, there were intervening spaces which were not open
to attack, thus the defenders were able to concentrate all their efforts
on the spots which were most threatened.
Arwald, seeing that all the preparations were now completed, gave the
signal for the assault to begin. With a shout of defiance and
anticipated victory the Wihtwaras threw themselves upon the stages and
rushed to the attack. Axes gleamed on all sides, and crowds of men
pressed close behind each other. The front ranks tried to clamber over
the palisade, and were sternly met by the desperate defenders. Such of
the enemy as tried to get over, lost hands or arms from the quick blows
of the watchful adherents of AElfhere, and all the horrors of previous
assaults were repeated over again with the same dreadful monotony. There
was the same desperate valour in assailing, as in defending, and victory
inclined to neither side decidedly as yet. But it was clear that the
defence could not last long. Already many of Ceolwulf's party had
received terrible wounds, although none had been killed outright; but
they had inflicted much loss on their foe, who had hitherto failed to
effect an entrance. But there was no cessation of the assault; as fast
as the front rank succumbed there were others to take their places,
pressing with furious ardour to annihilate the little band inside, for
all Arwald's followers knew of the invasion with which they were
threatened, and were keenly alive to the importance of sweeping away
these few antagonists first.
Ceolwulf looked anxiously at the sky. The sun had just set, and the
breeze came cool and keen from the north-east. Could there be any
chance of their holding out another hour? He thought not. "Never
mind," he kept saying to himself, "I have done all that could be done,
all my lords are safe; and, anyway, I should not live for many more
years. Better die now than live to be old and useless. But," he added,
savagely chopping at a sturdy Wihtwara, who was boldly putting his leg
over the stockade, "thou shalt not send me to Nifleheim, young man," and
the luckless foeman fell back with a leg the less, to bleed to death
outside the stockade; but there were many more to take his place, and
weary work it was fighting against time, and hope, and terrible odds.
Arwald had given orders to break down the palisade that led to the
spring, and a desperate fight was taking place here. The Wihtwaras had
broken in, and were pushing back the defenders, but the narrow way got
blocked with wounded and dead, and the assailants paused a moment to
clear away the bodies which impeded them. Ceolwulf, seeing the lull,
shouted to his men to leave the passage and pile up some logs that were
inside, so as to close the entrance, but it was too late. The enemy
dashed in, and a hand-to-hand fight took place in the narrow space
inside the stockade. Beornwulf, seeing all was over, determined not to
die cooped up in that shambles. He shouted to Ceolwulf to leap over the
stockade, and cut their way into the woods. It was a hopeless and
desperate venture, but Beornwulf had already escaped certain death once
that day, and he believed he could not die for the next twenty-four
hours, at least.[1] Behind them, inside, a fearful murder was going on;
before them was at least a chance of life, at any rate, no worse death.
Springing over the stockade, therefore, Ceolwulf and Beornwulf, with
four or five more, dropped down into the interval between the raised
stages that were crowded with the enemy pressing up to take their part
in the awful scene going on inside. Armed and clothed like the other
Wihtwaras, they were not recognised as the very men the followers of
Arwald had come to slay, and they were able to push through the lines of
assailants, who thought they were only some of the numerous men who had
got pushed over the edge of the stages by the pressure from behind, and
were returning to take up their places on the stages again to renew the
assault, and some even jeered at them as clumsy fellows who had had to
make room for their betters, while others openly laughed at them as
cowards who were not sorry to get out of the way of the enemy.
[1] It was a popular superstition, and is still, that if a man escaped
imminent death or had a man killed alongside of him, he could not be
killed that day--_vide_ Prosper Merimee, "L'en lelvement de la Redoute."
"Thou art right there, my friend," said Ceolwulf, who, being a Wihtwara
himself, ran no risk of his dialect betraying him. "But it will want
someone to bury yon men, and so I intend stopping behind."
"Dost thou, though, my shirking knave," cried Arwald, who had taken no
part in the assault himself, but waited outside to watch the attack, and
encourage, or reprimand, his men. "Do thou go back at once, and don't
let me---- Ah! By Woden, but thou art a bigger scoundrel----"
He did not finish his sentence, for Beornwulf and Biggun made a rush for
him, overjoyed at the opportunity of revenging all their wrongs on the
chieftain himself.
*CHAPTER XXI.*
*"LET US DIE IN HONOUR; ONCE MORE BACK AGAIN."*
Arwald, seeing the determined rush made upon him by Beornwulf and
Biggun, reined in his horse, swung it round, and, striking his heels
into the animal's side, caused it to leap past the two desperate men.
As Arwald did so, he called out to the men nearest him to fall upon the
traitors, for so at first he took them to be; but, seeing the woods
before them, neither Beornwulf nor Biggun waited to have another attempt
at Arwald. The instinct of life urged them on, and they dashed into the
woods unmolested.
"There's some death the Norns are keeping for that knave," said
Ceolwulf, as soon as he and Beornwulf found themselves at a sufficient
distance to relax their speed. "He has always escaped hitherto, but let
him look out, his time has nearly come now."
"Are we going right for the shore?"
"It's not far off, and Caedwalla ought to have reached it by now; but,
hist! who's coming this way?"
They crouched down. A few horsemen and footmen were approaching through
the wood, evidently guiding their course by the sounds that proceeded
from the stockade, where the work of death was very nearly over. The
troop now drawing near might be the advanced guard of their deliverers.
This was almost too good to be hoped for; or it might be some of the
raiders of Arwald's party; anyway, Beornwulf and Biggun had better lie
still.
As the first horseman came up he was saying to the nearest footman who
was walking by his side that they ought to make more haste or they would
get none of the booty; and, besides, the news they had to bring was very
important.
"I wish I knew what that news was," muttered Ceolwulf.
"Why, what have they got hanging down over the horses shoulders in front
of him?" said Beornwulf whose sight was keener than his old companion's.
"It's a body, I do believe, and the body of a boy, too."
Ceolwulf peered out between the dry leaves, and the next moment, without
a second's reflection, flung himself out of the bushes, and rushed with
a wild cry of rage straight at the horseman, oversetting the nearest
footman in his rush. With one hand he seized the bridle of the horse,
and with the other he struck the rider a tremendous blow on the arm, and
before the man, taken utterly by surprise, could strike a blow in his
own defence, Ceolwulf struck him again, and this time with a deep groan
the man fell heavily from the saddle and dropped to the ground.
Beornwulf seeing the danger his old comrade was in rushed out after him,
and began laying about him manfully, but the odds were against them;
however, Biggun with great presence of mind jumped into the saddle, from
which he had just ousted the owner, and, turning the horse's head,
galloped back towards where they had come from, shouting to Beornwulf to
follow him. The attention of the men was taken up in trying to stop
Ceolwulf, or it would have gone hardly with the West Saxon; as it was,
he was enabled to dash back into the wood again, and so escaped the
notice of the enemy. Ceolwulf urged his horse at the utmost to escape
from his pursuers, but the horse was heavily weighted with the double
burden; however, for the first few minutes it managed to increase the
slight start obtained by the unexpected rapidity of Ceolwulf's
movements; gradually, however, it became clear to Ceolwulf that he must
be captured, in spite all his efforts, and he did not know what to do.
The reason of this desperate onslaught was that he saw there hanging
over the horse's shoulders his young lord Wulfstan; whether he were dead
or not he could not tell, but he hoped, as they were taking the trouble
to bring him into camp, that he was still alive, and on the wild hope of
rescuing him, old Biggun had staked his life; and now, after all, with
help so near at hand, it seemed as though both must lose their lives.
"Beornwulf," the old man shouted, "catch this horse when I get off it,
and ride like the wind towards yonder copse," but no answer came, and
Ceolwulf felt it was all over with both of them. Still he urged on the
horse, every stride was bringing them nearer safety, but the horsemen
behind were close upon him. Ceolwulf turned round, there was only one
man quite close, and he was some distance from the others. Could not he
manage to disable this man? The Wihtwara gradually drew nearer, his axe
was uplifted, the weapon seemed over Ceolwulf's head, crash it came
down, and with it the Wihtwara rolling on the ground, the blow had
missed Ceolwulf, but what had knocked the man down? Ceolwulf had struck
no blow, he was far too intent in pressing on his horse, and for the
moment concluded the man's horse had stumbled on the rough ground; it
was not until afterwards that he learnt how he had been saved. Without
pausing a moment, Biggun rode steadily on; the fallen horseman caused
the rest of the pursuers to stop where he fell, and one of them
dismounting, went up to the man; turning the body over, he found that
one eye was knocked out, and that the man was dead. Whether this was
the result of the fall or not could not be told; but the man remounted
his horse, and they then gave up the chase and returned to Arwald.
Meanwhile Ceolwulf continued his course towards the shore. The evening
was changing into night; as he emerged from a dense part of the wood he
suddenly came upon a brilliant blaze of light, and knew that his orders
had been carried out. Riding up to the fire he found a crowd of boys
assembled round it, and he was not long in learning the news. Caedwalla
was within a mile of the land, and might disembark in less than half an
hour. But why did not Arwald come down to meet him? He might do so
yet; in any case, Ceolwulf could not longer delay attending to his young
lord. Tenderly the boyish figure was lifted off the horse, and gently
he was laid down by the fire. He lay quite still, only blood welled up
in a deep cut on his head, and all could see that he was desperately
wounded.
"Oh! my young master!" cried Ceolwulf, "Why could not I have received
this instead of thee? How shall I meet my lord AElfhere? Ah! Biggun,
thou art a dolt and a dotard to have allowed him to go from thee."
And then he enquired of the boys around how it had happened. Several of
the boys had seen it all, but could do nothing to save their young lord;
at least so they said, but Ceolwulf would not believe them, and heaped
maledictions on them for their cowardice and want of devotion to their
lord. It appeared that Wulfstan, while running away, saw one of his
companions fall, and the noble boy knowing that he would be killed,
stopped and fitted a stone to the sling preparatory to casting it at the
first man of the enemy who should approach the disabled boy. While he
was doing this and was totally careless of his own safety, a Wihtwara on
horseback, the same whom Ceolwulf had killed, broke through the bushes
behind Wulfstan and fetching him a blow with his axe knocked him down,
and then dismounting, put him on his horse as Ceolwulf had found him.
"If ye boys had had a quarter of your young lord's pluck ye would never
have let him be hurt, much less taken. Could none of ye have tried to
save the boy who fell, instead of letting your young lord do it? And
could none of ye have got in the way of the knave who gave him this
wound? Ah! I am ashamed of ye all! Ye are a set of cowardly
do-nothings; and what a chance ye have let slip; it doesn't happen to a
boy every day; no, nor once in a year in these more peaceful times--it's
true we have had a little more life lately--(by which Ceolwulf meant
death)--for a boy, I say, to have the good luck to get killed for his
lord, and here with this chance before ye, not one of ye had the sense
or the gratitude to take it. Ugh! get along with ye all for a pack of
skulking foxes."
The upbraidings of Ceolwulf caused many of the boys to hang their heads,
and several reproached themselves for not having got killed instead of
Wulfstan. However, there was no help for it now, and all stood round
looking at the pale and noble features of the senseless boy. His fair
hair fell back round his face in waving locks, his eyes were shut, and
the pallor of his cheeks, usually so full of colour and health, was very
ominous. Ceolwulf raised his head on his knee and bandaged the cut as
well as he could, telling the boys to get him some salt water from the
sea.
"Shall I go and find old Deva and the bald-headed man?" suggested one of
the boys.
"Ay, my son, that's the best thing thou canst do, and the sooner thou
bringest them the better, for we shall have work enough to occupy us all
soon. Which of ye knows the way?"
"I do," and "I do," resounded from all sides, and Ceolwulf chose the
sharpest-looking of the lads, and sent off three of them, telling them
to inform Malachi, or "the bald-headed one," of what had happened, but
on no account to alarm AElfhere, the eorldoman.
Away the boys darted, and were soon lost in the darkness. Ceolwulf
continued to bathe the wound, watching anxiously for some return of
consciousness; but the heavy lids remained shut, and the breathing
seemed to grow weaker.
"Ah! Wulfstan, my dear young lord, hadst thou only stayed at Boseham
with AEdric all would have been well. To think of the fights I have
been through and my life worth nothing, and this boy, the joy of his
father, and born to be an eorl and Heretoga, if ever there was one, to
die before he is twelve years old!" and old Ceolwulf groaned bitterly.
"How beautiful the lad is!" he went on. "Surely neither Baldur, nor
Woden, nor Thor, could have looked handsomer; but Baldur died. Ah! yes,
beauty is what death loves, and so Baldur died young."
While Ceolwulf was thus mourning over Wulfstan he forgot all about
surrounding objects, and was suddenly startled into consciousness of
this world and the present by a boy running up to him and saying,
breathlessly:
"Master Biggun, here's some boats come ashore at yonder point, and
there's a sight of people getting out."
"Why, whatever am I doing? I'm forgetting everything. Here, one of ye
boys, run down and show the people the best way up; ask them, for some
one will show thee--no, that won't do. Tell the first man thou seest
that old Ceolwulf, who fought at Cissanceaster along with Caedwalla, is
here, and wants help. Now, off with thee; what art thou waiting for?"
"But, maybe, they mayn't be friends; how do I know they won't hurt me?"
"By Thor's hammer but what are we coming to? These boys daren't get
killed for their lord, and now they are frightened of their own friends!
Get along with thee directly, and do what thou art told, or it will be
the worse for thee."
The boy went off not much reassured, and intending fully to disobey
Ceolwulf as soon as he got out of sight; but he had scarcely gone three
steps into the darkness when he felt his arm seized, and a deep voice in
a very different dialect to his own, but still such as he could
understand well enough, say:
"Not so fast, youngster; tell us who they are round this fire, and why
it is lighted?"
Paralysed with terror, the boy could not answer for a moment, but seeing
the gleam of sharp steel as his captor held up a long knife before him,
he called out:
"Oh, don't kill me! I was sent by old Ceolwulf, who did something
somewhere, to find somebody--I can't remember who--and there he is
sitting by the fire; and if thou wert to kill me I couldn't tell thee
any more, indeed I couldn't, so please don't do it."
Recognizing the truth of the last statement, the man put his knife away,
and called to some men behind. These now came up, and the boy saw a
large body of tall, powerful, well-armed men, most of them in the prime
of life. Among them he noticed a magnificent man, taller than any of
the others, and with a helmet surmounted by a golden dragon. The light
of the fire flashed upon his close-fitting shirt of mail, on his sword
and battle-axe, and shone in his bright, clear eyes.
"Did I hear the name of Ceolwulf?" he asked, eagerly. "Where is the
fine old man? Lead me at once to him, my boy; no harm shall happen to
thee if thou wilt tell the truth and do what thou art told."
The boy pointed to where Ceolwulf was sitting, hidden by the fire being
between them, and the dragon-crested warrior, closely followed by a
younger figure, hastened to greet him. The next moment a cry of joy and
grief rang out as the younger figure, in spite of his lameness, outran
the chieftain.
"Oh! Wulfy, my dear brother Wulf, to think I should find thee like
this;" and AEdric knelt down by Ceolwulf and burst into tears, sobbing
bitterly as he took his brother's hand in his.
"What! Ceolwulf, my fine youth," said Caedwalla. "This is a bad
business; the brave little lad is not dead, is he? Let me look at him."
So saying, the kind-hearted king bent down and took the other limp hand,
while he listened for his breathing. After a minute he rose and said,
"He's not dead, but he wants attention; have ye no women near who can
look after him?"
"I have sent, my lord, for help, and it ought soon to be here," answered
Ceolwulf, sadly.
"Well, I can't be of any use, and I won't take thee away from the boy.
While the rest of my men are coming ashore--By the way," broke off
Caedwalla, "see that the boats are taken to a place of safety for the
night. Thou canst send some of thy people to help us in this, canst
thou not?" he added, turning to Ceolwulf.
"Our people are all slain," replied Biggun sadly.
"What! no one left? Has it gone so hardly with thee as all that?"
"There are none but women and children and feeble old men. All our
bravest youth died with Wulf the Atheling, or were killed in cold blood
by Arwald, or were slaughtered but now on yonder hill."
"Where are Athelhune, and Osborn, and Beornwulf, and the three that came
with my brother Wulf?"
"All are dead for ought I know. Athelhune perished, slain by Arwald;
Beornwulf may have escaped. Osborn and the others died an hour or so
ago, on yonder hill."
Caedwalla's handsome features had gradually assumed a fierce expression;
a wild, stern light shone in his eyes, and a tightening of his hand over
his axe told of the storm within.
"By Woden's beard," he burst forth, "by all the joys of Valhalla, I
swear to avenge their blood! Not unhonoured shall they be in the abodes
above, or wherever the soul of man goeth. Before I leave this island, I
vow to kill all of the race of Arwald that cometh in my way, be it man
or woman or sucking child; for not in fair fight were they slain. Oh!
Athelhune, my comrade, my right hand, my more than friend, why was I not
here to save thee? But I am here to avenge thee, and right well shalt
thou be avenged."
"Is this a time to talk of vengeance?" said a voice near Caedwalla.
"Rather humble thyself before the strong hand of the Almighty, and give
Him thanks that thou art yet in the land of the living, when so many
souls have gone unregenerate, unbaptised, to their last account. Man,
swear not such awful curses. There may come a time when they will recoil
on thine own head."
"Who is this that dares to rebuke Caedwalla?" said the king haughtily.
"A poor servant of the Lord--one Malachi, of Boseham."
AEdric had turned joyfully at the voice, and felt new hope for his
brother.
"Oh! brother Malachi, come here; see what has happened to Wulfstan."
"What! AEdric, my son; hast thou come to this sinful and blood-guilty
land? And how are Father Dicoll and brother Corman? Verily my heart
yearns for news of them."
"Oh, Malachi, I will tell thee all about them while thou art looking at
Wulfstan; but do tell me if he is alive?"
Malachi stooped down--he had brought some balsam with him, and a few
remedies--and he gently examined the wounded boy. With a very grave
face he signed to Ceolwulf to let him feel his pulse, and then said,
"Canst thou make a shelter for him here? it will be better to keep him
quite quiet if we can."
Ceolwulf nodded assent, and Caedwalla directed some of the sails of the
boats to be brought up, and a shelter was soon made.
"Deva will be here soon," said Malachi. "She has got some food with
her. We will make some strong broth for him."
Caedwalla, seeing that the boy was in good hands, called Ceolwulf aside,
and consulted on what was best to be done. After he had heard the old
man's ideas, he gave orders that all the men he had brought with him
should encamp where they were till morning, as now the stockade was lost
there was no need to risk an advance through the thick woods in the
dark. It was clearly ascertained that the women and children and old
people belonging to AElfhere were safe, so there was no occasion to
weary the men with a march immediately after their voyage.
All through the night Malachi, in spite of his wounded arm, attended
ceaselessly on Wulfstan. AEdric had intended keeping awake, but the sea
voyage, the excitement, and the novelty of using his leg, had made him
very sleepy, and in spite of himself he fell off into a sound sleep.
Ceolwulf had been so busy helping Caedwalla that he had not had time to
tell AEdric of his father being still alive, and Malachi had not thought
of it; in fact, the critical condition of Wulfstan put all other ideas
out of their heads. Wulfstan had opened his eyes once, but there was no
consciousness in them, and a burning patch of red in each cheek had
taken the place of the ghastly pallor of a few hours before.