Now of the wedding in the great church I knew very little, save that I
had Alswythe beside me, and that Ealhstan married us. And that was all I
cared for, heeding naught of the rest.
But the king and the queen were there, and many thanes, while the
atheling must needs be a groomsman with my friends, and Ceorle gave away
the bride on the king's behalf. There, too, was Eanulf, looking very
noble in his court array, beside the king. And the little page in blue
and silver who held Alswythe's dress was none other than Turkil,
"Grendel's friend" as Alfred called him, whom Alswythe had begged the
bishop to bring with him.
There also was Dudda the Collier, clad beyond knowledge by Wislac,
holding my helm and sword, and the lay brethren, mail clad for the last
time, with the white cross painted on their shields and helms. Lustily
did they join in the chanting.
Osric only was not there, but on Alswythe's neck and arms shone
presently wonderfully-wrought collar and bracelets of gold that he had
sent, having had them made from the spoils of that tall viking chief
that I had slain.
Then was there feasting, and songs of gleemen, and, better still, that
song of Stert fight sung by Alfred the Atheling himself in full hall.
And then had Wislac full excuse for what he did in the king's presence,
for at the end all the hall joined in a mighty Wessex war shout. And
that, said the atheling, was a poet's greatest praise, to have stirred
the hearts of men to forgetfulness of aught but the song.
Now, when we must needs ride away westward, with Wulfhere and Aldhelm
for attendants, and the collier and my lay brethren again for guards,
the king gave Alswythe a ring, praying her to spare me to him if need
should be; and she, half weeping, yet proudly, told him that she would
be the first to arm me for his service. And the queen kissed her, but
the atheling said that soon he should see us again, for he would ride
with me over the battle-ground, and learn it all, when our hall was
ready for a guest.
Then Wislac took leave of us last of all, even as we started, for he
said he would have no long leave taking. Nor did he know if he must not
come with Alfred to fight the battle over again. And we prayed him to do
so, for I loved the quaint sayings and cool valour of the
broad-shouldered thane.
But Eanulf and Ceorle rode with many of the thanes a mile or more with
us on our way from the town, and there, having set us fairly off, left
us with hearty good-speeds. But they left one behind, who joined himself
to our little company. And that was Turkil, clad like myself in silver
mail, and on a white pony, but with flame-coloured cloak and scarf. For
that was the atheling's doing, when he knew that "Grendel's friend" was
to be brought up in our hall, to grow into the stout warrior I had boded
him to be.
Now should my story be ended were it a fairy tale, but it is not that.
Well I knew that, happy as I was, the day must come when I must bear
forward to battle the golden dragon banner of Wessex, and I cannot
rightly tell if I dreaded or longed for that day. Maybe there was a
mixture of both dread and longing in my thoughts thereof.
But when we came over Brent Knoll, on our way back to my place and
Alswythe's at Cannington, there lay the black ships under the holms yet,
and there, too, were the burnt walls of our houses, though these were
rising up again as the king's men wrought at them. And all the land lay
waste and neglected, and, as we rode over Cannington hill, a broken helm
rolled from my horse's hoof from among the grass of the roadside. Those
things brought back to us the memory of war and trouble even in our new
happiness; and there, over the river, was the new-made mound over Elgar,
the man who had died for his land, and not in vain.
It was many days since we started from Salisbury town, however, before
we came to Cannington, and in that time we had sought the house of
Turkil's father, the franklin, lodging with him for a day and night,
that we might seek Leofwine the hermit. But him we might not find, for
he was dead, and that grieved me sorely, for I would fain have seen him
again, aye, and if it might be, taken him to live with us.
But he died as the tide went out on the day of Stert fight, and those
who stood by him say that he had visions of all that befell there.
For many times he called to me as exhorting me; and once, after long
silence, in the gray of early dawn, he rose up, crying, "Up, Ealhstan,
up, for the Lord has delivered these heathen into your hands!"
And that was at the time when the bishop had heard those words spoken to
him. And again, once more he roused, even at the time when the Danes
drew off from us at the coming of Osric. He lifted his hands, crying
"Victory!" thrice, and then saying very softly, "Heregar, my son," was
silent thereafter till he died at the time of the lowest ebb, only his
lips moving as if in prayer. And I remembered the strange voice I had
heard crying round me, and I wept, for I thought how much more was
wrought by the prayers of feeble ones than men wot of.
But his prophecy had indeed come true, and though I might not see him
more, the memory of Leofwine is with me always, with his words of wise
counsel that he had spoken to me.
Now of that other one who prophesied in her strange way to me I know no
more, nor did I ever see her again. Gundred the witch, men called her,
knowing her well, and fearing her. But she was never seen after the
Danes swept over our land, and how she ended none ever knew. I sought
her carefully that I might give her shelter and ease for the rest of her
days, but without avail.
All his life long has Dudda the Collier bided with me, serving well and
roughly, but in all most faithfully, as is his wont. And not many days
after we came homewards he brought me the berserk's axe to hang in hall,
for he had taken it and hidden it when we left the battlefield on the
day after the fight. So there it is now, and beside it hangs the raven
flag of the largest ship, for he must needs go with the fishers across
to the holms, and bring me back the tale of how the last of the Danes
had perished.
And now what am I to say of the years since our hall was built again?
Long have they been, and not all happy, for many a time have I had to
bear the standard of Wessex against the Danes. Yet Stert fight won us
six years of peace, and after that the Earl Ceorle and I led our levies
and conquered at Wenbury. But that was Wulfhere's last fight, for of his
wounds he might not recover, though we bore him back and tended him
carefully for a month or more. So he lies in God's Acre at Cannington,
and is at rest.
Then came long years of fighting, and ever I bore the banner, and ever
Alswythe set me forth most lovingly, with brave words that should bide
with me till I came back to her. And all the time our hall was safe, for
beyond Parret the Danes came not again.
And to tell of all those fights were too long, or of how Wislac and
Aldhelm would ever fight beside me as of old, and at last Turkil in
Aldhelm's place, when that brave thane fell at Wilton, fighting for
Alfred the King.
Then were we in Athelney with Alfred, and it was the collier who found
us that place of safety. And thence we went at last to victory again,
and now once more the land has rest.
Yet Wislac is with us in Wulfhere's place, for his own land is in Danish
hands, and we know not what wars may be yet with them, though we have
stood by the king's side when the greatest victory of all was won, and
Guthrum the heathen became Athelstan the Christian, and peaceful
division of the land was made.
So I and Alswythe grow old here in Cannington, seeing our children grow
up around us. And Alfred the king has our eldest in his court, there
training him in all things well and wisely. And Turkil is thane of
Watchet, and our son-in-law, much loved by all, well and faithfully
tending all my shore as Wulfhere tended it in his time.
So to me and mine after storm has come peace, and with us and the land
all is well.
THE END.
i A representative assembly or court of judgment.
ii An outlaw for whose slaying there was a reward, or at
least no penalty.
iii A curved, one-edged sword or war knife.
iv The "Saga of Beowulf" was the great popular poem of
the Saxon races, and as well known to them as the legends of Robin Hood
to us. The principal episode is the hero's victory over the marsh fiend
Grendel.
v Crowland in Lincolnshire, where the saint founded his
monastery.
vi Like the Highland "fiery cross", the signal for
rising in arms.
vii The most contemptuous term that could be applied to
a Saxon. Its exact force is lost, but may be expressed by "worth nothing."
viii The border of cleared land round a forest
settlement, across which in times of war none might come without sound
of horn in warning.
ix The "Saga of Beowulf" as we have it is the work of a
Christian editor of King Alfred's time.
x A corselet or coat of mail.
xi The bell which is rung during mass.
xii The great national council, or parliament.