his supporters. He strove to remain standing, but the scene swam before
his eyes; he forced himself to speak, but the words would not form
themselves on his lips, and he would have fallen heavily on the ground
had not two or three of his attendants run to support him. They laid
him gently on the grass and stanched his wounds: both cuts were
fortunately clean ones, and a simple bandage round the arm prevented
much loss of blood there; but the cut in the neck was more serious.
Ceolwulf was sitting near, a grim and satisfied expression on his
weather-beaten face. The blood was oozing from the wound in his chest,
but he was doing nothing to stop the bleeding. His eyes were fixed on
Caedwalla's pale face, and he was muttering some grumbling remarks to
himself. The little grassy platform high up on the hillside, so lately
the scene of desperate, relentless strife, was now covered with dead or
dying men, and the few survivors were too worn out to do more. They sat
or reclined on the sward, waiting for the rest of their comrades to come
up. The sun had now set, and the cold breeze of evening blew keen on
that elevated spot.
Presently a West Saxon eorldoman rode up, attended by a few footmen, and
gazed at the silent group. Seeing Caedwalla, he dismounted, and hastily
went up to him, fearing the worst, but was reassured by the men who sat
beside him.
"We must carry him down from here," said the eorl. "Get you as many
young withies or hazel boughs from the copse down yonder," he added,
turning to the men who had come with him, "and make a litter for your
king."
Then he mounted his horse, rode to the brow of the hill, where the now
numerous band of survivors were clearly seen in the valley below, raised
his axe, on which he had put the helmet of Arwald, high above his head,
and shouted, in a voice that rang over the silence of the hills:
"Long live Caedwalla, king of Wessex, Sussex, and Wihtea!"
Directly after a ringing cheer could be heard in the valley, and even
the exhausted warriors on the summit joined in the shout of triumph.
Again and again the cheers rang out, and rapidly the news spread over
the island.
The men with the litter now returned, and carefully Caedwalla was lifted
upon it. The movement caused him to open his eyes, and they happened to
fall upon Ceolwulf. The king feebly beckoned him to his side, and, as
the old man slowly and stiffly came up to him, the wounded king said:
"Ceolwulf, old man, I owe my life to thee. Ask me what thou likest, and
thou shalt have it."
But Ceolwulf made no reply. He merely shook his head slowly, and went
on grumbling to himself.
Caedwalla was carried down the hill, and, as it was now too dark to go
much further, the eorldoman who had taken charge of the little army gave
directions that the king should be carried to a cottage near, and the
rest of the men were to encamp around. With prudent foresight, another
eorldoman had gone on with a party of men to make the country people
bring them in provisions, and the victors were supplied with necessary
food after their hard day's work.
The wounded men were cared for, and proper guards were set to keep watch
during the night. Nothing, however, happened to disturb their rest.
The next morning the hardy West Saxons were all astir at an early hour,
and parties were sent out to collect the arms and accoutrements of the
dead, and to compel some of the inhabitants to help bury those who had
fallen.
Arwald and those who died upon the grassy knoll of Chillerton Down were
buried in five barrows, or tumuli, close to where they fell, but Arwald
was honoured by having one all to himself.
Caedwalla had recovered consciousness for a short time in the early
morning, and had given orders that Wihtgaresbyryg was to be occupied
without delay, and all the able-bodied men throughout the island were to
be slain as an atonement for the death of Athelhune and the other West
Saxons.
It was evident he did not much realise the teaching of Christianity as
yet, and the fierce spirit of his ancestors still burnt within him,
unchecked by any softening influence.
Arwald had sent his two young sons away from the island as soon as he
had received news of the probable invasion of Caedwalla, and they were
in hiding near Stoneham, or as Bede calls it, ad Lapidem, a little
village or manor to the north of Southampton. Caedwalla had given
orders, in accordance with his vow, to kill all of the race of Arwald,
and he expressly directed that search should be made for all his
descendants and relatives; but these terrible orders could not be
executed immediately, for much had yet to be done.
Ceolwulf was despatched to Binbrygge-ea with directions to see that
AElfhere and his sons were restored to their lands and possessions; and
he was also charged with seeing that a force of men were levied to
assist Caedwalla in getting in supplies and helping to crush the western
and southern part of the island. The boats were to be sent round from
Braedynge Haven to the north of the island, and one boat was to be sent
over to Selsea, to report the success of the expedition, and to bring
over Wilfrid, if he would come. The rest of the little army, now
thoroughly recruited, although sadly diminished in numbers, marched on
Wihtgaresbyryg, expecting to meet with a stubborn resistance; but Arwald
had led out all the fighting men with him, and owing to the skilful way
in which Caedwalla had thrust himself in between Arwald and the
fortress, none of the routed force had been able to escape to it.
When, therefore, the West Saxon host appeared before its walls, they
found the gates thrown open, and they had no more fighting to do.
Caedwalla was carried to Arwald's house, and all men throughout the
island knew that the power had passed from the nominee of Mercia to the
kingdom of the house of Cerdic.
The eorldomen, who managed affairs during the illness of Caedwalla,
acted with determination and relentless cruelty. The wretched Wihtwaras
were hunted down and ruthlessly slain in strict fulfilment of the orders
of Caedwalla.
But the king of the West Saxons himself lay ill, and mostly unconscious
for the greater part of the next few days, and at last his faithful
followers began to despair of his life, and all men longed for Wilfrid
to come.
Ceolwulf had returned to Braedynge, and there, after having done all he
was ordered to do, and arranged for the return of AElfhere, had
succumbed to the wound he had received, and which he had neglected. For
some days he lay between life and death, but the faithful brother
Malachi and AEdric nursed him well, and he and Wulfstan were laid in the
same room for convenience of attendance. AElfhere, the eorldoman, had
been making great progress towards recovery, but it was observed that,
as he grew stronger, he seemed to be less vengeful. The self-devotion
of brother Malachi, who had saved his life at the risk of his own, and
the unexpected and unaccountable solicitude of old Deva, had caused him
to think over matters seriously; and he could not help being struck by
the fact that there were noble actions, as brave as any performed in
fighting, which arose from some hidden spring of conduct.
The fugitive tenants and small freeholders who looked to the eorldoman
for protection had all returned to their homes, and things round
Binbrygge-ea and Braedynge looked much as they did before the late
exciting events.
The stockade was visited, and the dead all buried, care being taken to
honour the defenders with a specially large tumulus high up over
Binbrygge Down.
Malachi longed for news of Father Dicoll and brother Corman. He had
heard of the adventure on the mud from AEdric, and was horror-stricken
at the account he gave of what he had last seen of Father Dicoll, but
was cheered by hearing that AEdric had since heard how Father Dicoll was
taken into one of the cottages, and had been carefully attended to, and
was probably by now quite well again.
AEdric had been told of his father's existence the day after he arrived.
At first he could hardly believe the news, so joyful did it seem; but
when he fully realised it, he only waited to know exactly where he was
concealed, and then went off as fast as his lame leg would let him, in
spite of all remonstrances, to find his father.
Fortunately he was met by one of his old servants, who was leading back
a cow that had strayed away from the rest of the cattle, and thus he was
able to have a ride; for the old cowherd, seeing how lame his young
master was, lifted him up, and set him on the broad back of the patient
beast, and he soon reached the secluded dell overlooking the sea under
the great white cliff where his father was lying hid. The boy stole
down softly to the side of the little wattled shelter that had been made
for the wounded eorldoman, down close to the shore under a high pinnacle
of red, sandy cliff, which here forms a striking contrast with the
dazzling white of the lofty chalk precipice on the westward side of the
tiny bay. The little cabin was difficult to find; it lay in a retired
chine, and was carefully hollowed out of the soft sand under the
over-arching shelter of thick bramble bushes and tall ferns. The
perpetual sound of the breaking sea at the foot of the cliffs deadened
any sound of voices.
AEdric approached quite close to the entrance: all was silent; he peeped
in. There lay his father, pale and worn, his eyes closed; he appeared
to be dying. AEdric stole in on tip-toe. His father moved; his eyes
opened.
"Father!" said AEdric. The wounded eorl looked round.
"What, Wulfstan, my boy, is it thou? How goes the battle?"
"Father, it isn't Wulfstan: it is I--AEdric."
"What, AEdric! my son! Am I dreaming. How did'st thou get here?" and
the father stretched out his hand for his son to come nearer.
"Why, it is AEdric, my own son--my boy! my boy! I thank the gods thou
art returned to me. There, bless thee, my son; sit down and tell me all
that has happened to thee."
And AEdric sat down, and, taking his father's hand, told him everything.
As the old eorldoman heard of the kindness of the monks or baldheaded
ones, and the splendour and power of Wilfrid, he murmured over and over
again:
"Truly these are great men, and they know more than we. They can bear
pain as well as we can, and they can rule without fighting; but I think
they miss a good deal by that. But perhaps, after all, there is more to
be got without it. I don't know though; if I get better, I will think
over this."
*CHAPTER XXIII.*
*"THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER."*
A few days after the decisive battle near Chillerton Down, AEdric, who
had been sitting with Malachi and the invalids, went out to get some
fresh air. He wandered up the hill behind the homestead to a
freshly-raised mound on the hill side, looking away towards the Sussex
shore, and commanding views of the far distant Andreadesweald. Here
Athelhune had been buried, with his arms and battle-axe, like a free
Saxon eorldoman, with his face towards the East, looking to the woods
and the land where he had fought so well for his friend and king,
Caedwalla, in the time of his adversity.
AEdric sat down on the newly-laid turf, and gazed towards Selsea. As he
sat he fell into a deep reverie. He thought over all that had passed
since that awful night when Arwald surprised their home, and he and
Wulfstan and Biggun had had to fly over the water, they knew not where.
He thought of the fearful slaughter that had since taken place; the
dreadful suffering of the poor people, driven from their homes; the
death in battle, in cold blood, and in misery of so many human beings.
He saw how poverty, hunger, wretchedness, fell upon every one by the
perpetual destruction going on. Caedwalla was nearly dead; Ceolwulf was
prostrate; Wulfstan was only just showing signs of recovery; brother
Malachi had received a desperate wound; Athelhune and Osborn were dead;
and Wulf the Atheling might be dead, too, for all he knew; while his
father, AElfhere, as well as himself, would bear their wounds to their
graves with them. And yet they and their party were victorious. They
had won all the glory, all the land, all the wealth; and this was what
their noblest, most cherished ideas pointed to. Could anything be more
complete? Arwald was dead; all his bravest warriors were dead too, and
all the rest of his supporters were being ruthlessly hunted down and
slain. They were drinking to the full the cup of victory. Could anything
be more triumphant? What more could heroes do? They had gloriously
chopped in pieces their enemies, and were entering into possession of
their goods. But meanwhile the people were mostly starving, and the
women and children were suffering terribly; but
"Things like that, you know, must be at every famous victory."
And then AEdric thought of the monks--their kindness, their simplicity,
their total surrender of themselves for others, their perpetual striving
to conquer what, he could not help seeing, might make an individual
great according to a slave's idea of greatness, but could only make all
others miserable. For what was it the monks strove to overcome?
Certainly nothing of anybody else's belongings, but their own passions,
their own want of charity, their own worldly desires, their own
incomprehension of the love of God; in fact, the world, the flesh, and
the devil. And then he thought of the dead man below him, and he
remembered all that had been told him of the shortness of this life and
the certainty of death, and after death the judgment; and he remembered
how terrible it had seemed to him, as Father Dicoll talked, if he should
die, and have to enter upon eternity without having tried to follow the
Christ-life while here on earth. The words of the Master, Christ, had
often been told him, when He said, "Verily, I say unto you, inasmuch as
ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to Me; and
these shall go away into ever-lasting punishment, but the righteous into
life eternal." Truly, death was very near; would it not be better to
give up everything for the love of God? What could the world offer to
him that for the brief space of this life could make up for the loss of
life eternal? The truth of the question he had so often heard from
brother Corman came back to him--What would it profit him if he gained
the whole world and lost his own soul? or what could he give in exchange
for his soul?
As AEdric thought over all these things, his eyes were fixed upon a
distant speck beyond the entrance to Braedynge Haven. It was a boat,
and was coming fast before the north-east breeze. For some few minutes
he dreamily watched it. He saw it enter the narrow mouth of the
harbour, and wondered who could be in it. The men on board evidently
knew the channel. As the boat drew nearer his interest increased. "Who
could it be?" And then it flashed across him that it must be Wilfrid.
He jumped up with excitement, waited a minute to make certain, and then
ran down as fast as he could, burst into the room where Malachi was, and
shouted out the news.
All was bustle in the homestead. AElfhere was anxious to receive the
great man properly, and all the servants were sent here and there, and
the cackling among the fowls told of slaughter going on there. Some of
the servants were sent down with AEdric to receive the bishop.
It was as AEdric had guessed: the boat ran ashore, near the hard; the
servants hastily put out boards on a trestle for the bishop to land, and
presently Wilfrid, Hildila, and Bernwine disembarked on the shore.
The greeting between AEdric and the bishop was cordial, and Bernwine
patted him on the head, with a pleasant smile, saying, "I told thee I
wanted to see this island of thine, and here I am." The party then went
up to the homestead, AEdric pointing out objects of interest as they
went. The Wihtwaras were much impressed with Wilfrid's appearance, and
the respect their young eorl paid him, as well as from the report of the
magic charms he had with him, and which were relics he had brought from
Rome.
AElfhere welcomed his guests courteously, and the rest of the day passed
in pleasant talk. Malachi asked eagerly after Father Dicoll and Corman,
and was delighted to hear that both were well, the former having quite
recovered from his wound, and that they sent him affectionate greetings.
A messenger was despatched at once to announce the arrival of the
bishop, and ask for instructions.
AElfhere was pleased, as well as all his household, at the gentle
manners and interesting conversation of Wilfrid and his attendant
priests, and the evening passed away in pleasant intercourse. The
stories Wilfrid had to tell of foreign lands, and the wonders of Rome,
astonished every one. There was nothing he could not talk about; and
when he asked permission, before retiring to rest, to have a little
service in the hall, AElfhere willingly gave his consent, and was much
impressed with the earnestness, as well as ceremony, of the Christian
ministers. There had never been seen anything like it, and all the
household retired to rest awestruck and interested.
The next morning the messenger returned from Caedwalla, desiring that
Wilfrid should come to him at once. The bishop, therefore, took an
affectionate leave of his hospitable entertainer, and went off to
Wihtgaresbyryg, leaving Bernwine behind to instruct and convert
AElfhere, already thoroughly predisposed to accept Christianity, through
the example of Malachi and old Deva, to whom the late intercourse with
Malachi had been a great happiness.
AEdric accompanied Wilfrid and Hildila, and when they arrived at the
castle of Wihtgar they found there was some important discussion going
on. When they entered the courtyard they found a few men loitering
about, all armed and fully equipped for some expedition, and the eorl in
command was just bidding them to fall in, as a tall, noble-looking man
came out of the house where Caedwalla was lying. His face wore a sad
look, and he walked past Wilfrid and his party without appearing to see
them. He was dressed in monastic garb, and his head was bare, showing
the tonsure cut in the orthodox western fashion.
Wilfrid inquired who he was, but no one knew. As soon as he had joined
the eorldoman, the armed men defiled through the gate, and went down the
hill towards the Medene, where the mast of a boat could be seen over the
woods that lay between the creek and the castle; for the new port had
not yet risen at the head of the estuary.
As soon as it was announced to Caedwalla that Wilfrid had come, he gave
orders that he should be at once admitted, and the bishop was ushered
into his presence.
The wounded king was lying on a couch, looking pale and worn. The wound
in his arm had healed, but the severe cut in his neck had proved a
difficult matter, as Caedwalla was impatient of control, and chafed at
his enforced inaction. At the entrance of the bishop he tried to rise,
and was only induced to lie down again by the urgent remonstrances of
Wilfrid.
"Thou seest, bishop, thou and I can never meet without my having gained
a victory. Truly, the more often I meet thee, the better I shall be
pleased."
"I trust, my son, thou wilt have no more enemies to fight. The Lord has
been merciful to thee, and saved thee in the midst of great dangers. I
hope thou wilt be spared to perform a good work among the people He has
committed to thy charge."
"I hope so too," answered Caedwalla coldly. "But I call to mind thy
telling me how a great heretoga and chieftain led his people into a
promised land, and slew every man, woman, and child of its former
inhabitants, and thou saidest he was a man approved of by thy God. I
have tried to do the same. There will not soon be any of these
Wihtwaras left. I trust I shall receive thy blessing for the thorough
way I have tried to imitate that eorldoman Joshua, as thou calledst
him."
Wilfrid sighed. Like many other Christian missionaries he wished he had
not so impressed the savage mind with the conquests and wars of the
Israelites,[1] but he prudently answered:
[1] The Bishop of the Goths, Ulphilas, entirely omitted translating the
Book of Kings into the Gothic Bible, for he said: "The fierce and
warlike spirit of his children required no spur in the matter of war."
"My son, before thou exterminatest, thou hast to prove that thou hast
the right to punish. Joshua was the chosen leader of God's own people,
appointed to execute God's command upon a desperately wicked nation,
given up to every abomination. I do not yet know that thou art trying
to introduce the love of Christianity among even thine own people, or
that it has been offered to the poor victims thou tellest me thou art
slaying. And even supposing thou wert a follower of our Lord, and the
Wihtwaras were all pagans, who stubbornly refused to accept the Truth,
that would not of itself give thee any title to kill or persecute them.
But let me hear how thou art faring?"
"Oh, well enough! I shall be able to mount a horse in a few days, I
hope," and then the conversation turned upon various matters, until
Wilfrid discovered that the ecclesiastic whom he had met as he entered,
was the Abbot Cynebercht of Reodbrygge (now Redbridge), and that he had
come on an important mission. As Caedwalla did not seem inclined to
talk about him, Wilfrid did not pursue the subject. And the king went
on to say that he intended bestowing upon Wilfrid three hundred hides of
land in Wihtea, as a proof of his affection for him and in
thank-offering for the great successes he had achieved, and which he
attributed to the protection and influence of Wilfrid's prayer and the
possession of the marvellous charms or reliques he had brought from
Rome. The bishop, perhaps from motives of policy, perhaps from real
belief, did not attempt to make light of his power; indeed he did all he
could to foster this idea and belief in the miraculous efficacy of
relics, and his own influence as the minister of God's church here
below, hoping that the more the fierce West Saxon king was impressed
with his power and sanctity, the more he would be able to guide him in
the way he wanted. Wilfrid therefore accepted the donation which
amounted to more than a fourth of the whole of Wihtea, but he handed it
over to his kinsman, Bernwine, with the understanding that he was to use
the wealth arising from it for the purpose of charitable works and the
promotion of the Christian faith, but especially in the redemption of
captives and slaves. By this noble method the introduction of
Christianity was associated with freedom and human sympathy, and all men
blessed the humanity of Wilfred.
After a little desultory conversation, Wilfrid rose to leave Caedwalla
to repose, and was conducted to the rooms prepared for him. He was now
able to learn more particulars of the Abbot Cynebercht's mission, and
was grieved to hear that he had come on a fruitless errand of mercy. It
appeared that after the capture, or rather occupation, of
Wihtgaresbyryg, search had been made for Arwald's two sons who were
known to be living there. They could not be found anywhere, and at
last, after long search and inquiry, it was discovered that they had
been conveyed away out of the island to Stoneham, and were there kept in
hiding. Caedwalla, in fulfilment of his vow, sent immediately to have
them executed, but the good Abbot of Reodbrygge, hearing of the order
went over to Stoneham and delayed the execution of the sentence until he
had been to the island and seen Caedwalla. He had come over at once,
and had striven hard with the West Saxon king to spare the lives of the
innocent boys, but to no purpose; all he could obtain was, that he might
be allowed time to instruct them in Christianity, and so secure them the
blessings of eternal life. Caedwalla would have spared them, only he
felt bound by his oath of vengeance on the race of Arwald, and no
arguments of Cynebercht could make him feel or see that any
circumstances could justify him in breaking his word. Sad at heart,
therefore, the worthy abbot had returned with the party who were to
carry out Caedwalla's sentence. Horrified at the cruelty of the
execution, Wilfrid was going back at once to Caedwalla to ask him to
send after Cynebercht, when his eyes lighted on AEdric.