In the Aescendune Woods, Easter Tide, 1007.--
Here I am at home, if I may call these woods home, once more, having
spent my Lent with my brethren in the monastery of Abingdon. We are a
very large party: Herstan and all his family are here, the Etheling
Edmund, and Alfgar.
We all travelled together from Abingdon. Passing through Oxen ford,
Kirtlington (where Bishop Sidesman of Crediton died at the Great
Council, whose body is buried in the abbey), Beranbyrig, and Warwick,
we reached the domains of Aescendune.
We passed through the desolated village where lie the blackened ruins
of priory and hall, not without a sigh, and entered the forest.
Although I had so recently travelled by that path (in September last),
yet I could hardly find my way, and had once or twice like to have
lost the party in quagmires. So much the better; for if we can hardly
escape such impediments, I do not think we need fear that the Danes
will find their way through the swamps and brakes.
But the woods were so fresh and delightful to men like ourselves, who
have but just escaped from the confinement of the town. Blessed,
thrice blessed, are they who dwell in the woods, God's first temples,
apart from strife and the turmoil of arms!
So spake I to my companions. The while the birds from each tree and
bush chanted their Maker's praise, and the sweet fresh green of
springtide enlivened the scene, as if to welcome us pilgrims to our
home.
"And not less, father," said the Etheling, "need we be grateful for
yon fat buck, which I mean to send an arrow after. See, we have the
wind of him."
So speaking, while we all stood motionless, he crept near his victim,
and drawing an arrow to its head, while all we saw was the branching
horns of the stag, he let it fly. It whizzed through the air, and
drank the life blood of the poor beast, which bounded a few steps,
staggered, and fell, when in a moment Alfgar ended its struggles by
drawing his knife across its throat, while young Hermann, a true
hunter by instinct, clapped his hands with joy.
"We shall bring our dinner with us," quoth the boy.
At this point I found great difficulty. A brook coming down from the
hills had overflowed the land until a swamp or quagmire had been
formed, whereon huge trees rotted in slime, while creeping plants hid
the deformity of decay.
Our horses refused the path, and it took me a good hour's search, for
I was guide, to find a more secure one. At last I found the tracks
where others had gone before me, and we followed a winding path for a
full hour, until we arrived in a deep valley, where a brook made its
way between deep rocky banks, by the side of which lay our upward
path.
"What a splendid place for defence!" said Edmund. "With a score or two
warriors, one might hold an entire army at bay here."
He pointed out to Alfgar and Hermann, who look upon him as a sort of
demigod, all the capabilities of the place.
"A few more steps, and we shall see our friends," said I; and we
advanced until, from the summit of the pass, we saw the valley wherein
they have found rest.
They had worked well during autumn and winter, and the land was well
cultivated; the brook ran through the midst of the vale, which was
bounded by low hills on either side, and clear from forest growth.
In the centre of the valley the brook divided, forming an island of
about an acre of ground, containing several dwellings. From the
central one, which possessed a chimney, smoke issued, and told of the
noon meat.
By this time our approach was discovered, and I saw my brother, with a
few serfs, advancing to meet us. It was a happy moment when we
embraced each other again. And then he saw Alfgar, and embraced him as
a son. They did not speak--their feelings were too deep for words. All
that had passed since they last met must have rushed into their minds.
Then Herstan, the Lady Bertha, Hermann, Ostryth, and Alfreda, all had
their turn.
"Pardon me, prince," said I, when I introduced Edmund; "pardon
brothers who scarcely expected to meet again. Elfwyn, let me introduce
the Etheling Edmund as your guest."
"The Etheling Edmund!" repeated Elfwyn, with great respect; "it is
indeed an honour which I receive."
"The less said of it the better," said Edmund. "I am come to be one of
you for a time, and am thankful to find a free-born Englishman to
welcome me to the woods. Never, by God's help, will I return to the
court so long as they pay tribute to the Danes."
"It is true, then," said Elfwyn--"we hear scant news here--that peace
has been bought?"
"Yes, bought for thirty-six thousand pounds, by Edric's advice. I
should like to know how much of the money he retains himself. He is
hand and glove with Sweyn. But I purpose deriving one benefit from the
peace, upon which the Danes do not reckon."
"And that?--"
"Is to train up an army of Englishmen who shall not be their inferiors
in warlike skill. In courage they are not their inferiors now. Perhaps
you will let me amuse myself by training your own retainers in their
spare moments?"
"Most willingly. I could desire nothing better," said my brother,
smiling inwardly at the enthusiasm of the young warrior.
The labourers had just returned from wood and field, and when Edmund
was recognised he was greeted with vociferous cheers, which made the
woods ring.
But I cannot describe the meeting of Alfgar with the mother and sister
of Bertric; they were alone a long time together after the noon meat,
and I saw afterwards their eyes were red with weeping; well, they were
not all tears of sorrow.
On the whole it has been a day of deep happiness, hallowed rather than
shadowed by the thought of Bertric, the circumstances of whose heroic
death were only now fully known to his parents and sister.
. . . . . .
The voluminous pages of Father Cuthbert's diary for the years of
bitter woe and misery which followed cannot be fully transcribed; they
would fill a volume themselves, and we must content ourselves with a
few extracts, which will probably interest our readers, and carry on
the thread of the history to the place where our narrative will again
flow free and uninterrupted.
Ascension Tide, 1007.--
Edmund, assisted by Alfgar, has begun his task of disciplining and
training all our able-bodied men. He says, and rightly, that he is
sure we shall very soon have the Danes back for more money, and that
there will be no peace till we can defend ourselves properly. It is
amusing to see with what zeal young Hermann takes lessons in arms from
Alfgar; that boy is born to be a soldier.
September 1007.--
We hear of an appointment which causes us much apprehension. The king
Ethelred has appointed Edric Streorn ealdorman of Mercia; we are in
his district, and fear it may bode evil to us all. Edmund is beside
himself with rage; he vows that if Edric appears in these woods he
will slay him as he would a wolf.
May 1008.--
Every three hundred and ten hides of land has been charged with the
cost of a ship, and every eight hides with the cost of breastplate and
helmet; we do trust to recover our supremacy at sea, and then the
Danes cannot return.
March 1009.--
Alas, we are grievously disappointed of our hope. The fleet is
miserably destroyed; Brihtric, Edric's brother, a man like-minded to
himself; accused Wulfnoth, the ealdorman of Sussex, of high treason;
the ealdorman, knowing that he had no chance of justice, seduced the
crews of twenty ships, and became a pirate, like unto the Danes
themselves. Brihtric pursued him with eighty ships, but being a bad
sailor, got aground in a storm, and Wulfnoth came and burned all which
the storm spared. The commanders and crews have forsaken the rest of
the fleet in disgust.
Whitsuntide, 1009.--
Poor Alfgar came to me in great trouble. He and Ethelgiva have been
accepted suitors so long that he thought it time to propose marriage.
She referred him, with her own full consent, to her father; and Elfwyn
says, not unwisely, that he cannot consent until the land is at peace;
that it is currently reported that Thurkill, a Danish earl, is at hand
with an immense fleet, and that to marry might both hamper a warrior's
hands and be the means of bringing up children for the sword. He fully
accepts Alfgar's suit, but postpones the day till peace seems
established, that is "sine die." It is very hard to make Alfgar
reconciled to this. I try to do so.
July 1009.--
Bad news. Thurkill's fleet has landed at Sandwich.
August 1009.--
Worse news. Another fleet of Danes, under Heming and Eglaf, has joined
the former fleet, and both together are ravaging Wessex as far
northward as Berkshire; we have sent all the men we can spare to join
the army, but the king, persuaded by Edric, will not give the Etheling
Edmund any command therein.
St. Martin's Mass,--
One of our men has returned from the army. He states that forces being
gathered from all parts of England, the Danes were waylaid, and must
have been beaten, but that Edric persuaded the king not to fight when
the victory was in his hands, and so they escaped.
St. Brice's Day, 1009.--
This ill-omened anniversary we sang dirge and mass for the souls of
those who were slain by treachery seven years ago. Our forces have
returned from the south. They say the Danes have gone into winter
quarters on the Thames, and that all the neighbourhood pays them
tribute.
London has hitherto gallantly resisted their attacks.
Edric Streorn has married the king's daughter, Edmund's half-sister,
Elgitha. Is this a time to be "marrying and giving in marriage"?
Edmund is frantic about it.
February 1010.--
Woeful news. Herstan and all his family, who had returned in peace to
their dwelling, have come to us homeless and destitute. The Danes, as
in 1006, suddenly issued from their ships. They took their way upwards
through Chiltern, and so to Oxford, burning the city. Then they
returned all down the river, the infantry in boats, the cavalry on
horseback, burning on every side.
But, worst of all, Abingdon is destroyed; the holy house which has
been a house of prayer so many generations! Keeping in their course,
they burned Clifton; but the alarm was given in time, and the people
escaped. There was no chance of defence this time.
Then they attacked Dorchester, and burned part of the city, but
retired before all was consumed, hearing that a large force was
marching against them; so onward past the ruins of Wallingford, which
had not yet been rebuilt, destroying Bensington on their road. Thus
they went on to Staines, when, fearing the forces of London, they
returned through Kent to their ships.
Our brethren who took refuge in Abingdon have just arrived. We must
find them room here; they tell a piteous story.
Ascension Tide, 1010.--
A sorrowful Ascension Tide indeed! They have landed in East Anglia. A
battle has been fought and lost. Nearly all the English leaders slain.
Whitsuntide.--
We can hardly keep the festival, the people are so excited by the
news; all Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire (once more) are laid waste.
They are on the road to Bedford.
Edmund and Alfgar, with young Hermann, and all our fighting men, have
gone out on their own account against them.
July.--
The Danes elude all our troops. Edric persuades the king to go
eastward, and the Danes are westward. They go westward, and the Danes
are eastward. There is no chieftain. A witan is summoned; it will do
no good.
November.--
Northampton has fallen, cruelly fallen. The town is burned, and all
therein slain.
Edmund and Alfgar, with not more than half our men, have returned with
the news. Hermann is seriously wounded, but bears it bravely. He is
only sixteen now. There is mourning over all our fallen heroes; but
they have died so bravely. Edmund says they have slain far more than
twice their number of the marauders. Still his father will give him no
command. It is like private war so far as he is concerned; but many
fresh recruits have joined his standard, and will go out with him in
spring.
March 1011.--
The king and witan have again offered tribute to the Danes; it is
accepted. I do not think the peace will last long.
Michaelmas, 1011.--
Woe is me! the Danes have broken the peace; and Canterbury, the chief
seat of English Christendom, whence came to us the blessed Gospel, is
taken and burnt. Elfmar, the abbot of St. Augustine's--O false
shepherd! O wolf in sheep's clothing! betrayed it. The archbishop is
prisoner. God and the blessed saints preserve him!
Easter, 1012.--
Another saint is added to the calendar; the Archbishop Elphege has
suffered martyrdom. On Easter eve they told him he must find ransom or
die. But he not only firmly refused to give money, but forbade his
impoverished people to do so on his account. Then, on the following
Saturday, they led him to their hustings (or assembly), and shamefully
slaughtered him, casting upon him bones and the horns of oxen. And
then one smote him with an axe iron on the head, and with the blow he
sank down. His holy blood fell on the earth, and his soul he sent
forth to God's kingdom.
On the morrow they allowed the body to be taken to London, where the
bishops, Ednoth of Dorchester and Elfhelm of London, received it, with
all the townsmen, and buried the holy relics in St. Paul's minster,
where they say many miracles have already been wrought at his tomb.
Tribute has again been paid, and there is peace awhile. Thurkill, with
forty ships, sweareth to serve King Ethelred and defend the country if
he will feed and pay them.
Oh that the martyr's intercessions may be heard for his afflicted
country {xiii}.
August 1013.--
This fatal month our own neighbourhood, indeed nearly all Mercia, has
suffered the extreme horrors of war. Sweyn came along Watling Street,
perpetrating the most monstrous cruelties; in short, he and his
committed the worst evil that any army could do.
We found now how wisely we had decided not to rebuild Aescendune. Not
a hall, farm, or cottage, escaped fire and sword, save those hidden in
the forest like us. Edmund has lost many men in the course of the last
few months; and with the remainder he hid in our woods, ready to
protect us "to the last breath," as he said, "in his body." Alfgar and
Hermann, who have both been wounded (the latter for the second time),
are with him still. But the enemy never discovered our retreat. Praise
be to God for sparing this little Zoar! The saints are not unmindful
how we protested against the iniquity of St. Brice's day. But of one
thing we all feel sure; Anlaf cannot be alive, or revenge would lead
him here.
December 1013.--
Ethelred has fled to Normandy. He sent Queen Emma and her children
before him. Sweyn, the Dane, is now King of England. There seems no
resource but submission. We are told Edric Streorn is in high favour
in the Pagan court; and still is ealdorman of Mercia. Alas! what a
Christmas!
Candlemas, 1014.--
God has at length bared His arm: Sweyn is no more. The blasphemer and
parricide is gone to his dread account. On the eve of the festival he
filled up the measure of his damnation by daring to exact an enormous
tribute from the town where rests the uncorrupt body of the precious
martyr St. Edmund, which even the pagan Danes had hitherto feared to
do. He said that if it were not presently paid he would burn the town
and its people, level to the ground the church of the martyr, and
inflict various tortures on the clergy. Not content with this, he
disparaged the blessed martyr's merits, daring to say there was no
sanctity about him. But, thus setting no bounds to his frowardness,
Divine vengeance did not suffer the blasphemer to prolong his
miserable existence.
Towards evening of the day when he had held a "thingcourt" at
Gainsborough, where he had repeated all these threats amongst his
warriors, he, alone of the crowd, saw St. Edmund approaching him with
a dreadful aspect.
Struck with terror, he began to shout, "Help! comrades, help! St.
Edmund is at hand to slay me!"
While he spoke, the saint thrust his spear fiercely through him, and
he fell from his war horse. They bore him to a bed, whereon he
suffered excruciating agonies till twilight, when he died the third of
the nones of February. From such a death, good Lord, deliver us! The
bloodthirsty and deceitful man shall not live out half his days;
nevertheless, my trust shall be in thee, O Lord {xiv}!
Lent, 1014.--
Ethelred has returned, and is again king; he has promised to amend his
evil ways, and to be ruled by faithful and wise counsellors. All
England has rallied round the descendant of Edgar. Canute has fled.
Eastertide.--
Edmund has returned to court. His father has received him graciously.
Alfgar is with him. Elfwyn will not even yet consent to the marriage,
saying, "Wait a little while; we have not yet done with the Danes." I
fear he is right.
June 1015.--
Herstan is here, and has brought us sad news. A great council has just
been held at Oxford, whereat Edric Streorn, to the indignation of all
men, sat at the king's right hand. Would this had been all! He invited
Sigeferth and Morcar, two of the chief Thanes in the seven burghs, to
supper with him; and there, when he had made them heavy with wine, he
caused them to be cruelly murdered by hired ruffians. Instead of
punishing him, the king sanctioned the deed, took all their
possessions, and sent Sigeferth's widow to be kept prisoner at
Malmesbury. Alas! such deeds will call down God's vengeance upon us.
Nativity of St. Mary (Sept. 8).--
The Etheling went with Alfgar to Malmesbury a few days ago. We now
hear that he has released Sigeferth's widow, and that he has married
her. We know not what to think of the step. It is a bold defiance of
his father's cruel policy. He knew the widow before she was the wife
of Sigeferth, when Alfgar says he made honourable love to her. But it
is a very sudden step.
October 1015.--
Alas! the Divine vengeance has not slumbered long after the late cruel
deed. Canute is in England again. Edmund brought his wife here, asking
us to take care of her. She is a gentle lady, worn down with care. He
has gone, in conjunction with Edric, to fight Canute. I dread this
conjunction. Edmund would have gone alone, but his father insisted on
joining Edric in the command, saying two heads were better than one.
November 1015.--
Alfgar has come home, bringing messages from Edmund, with sad but not
altogether unexpected news. Edric, who is steeped in stratagems and
deceit, plotted against his life again and again, whereupon Edmund
broke up the camp in indignation, and took a separate course with all
the warriors who would follow his standard. Edric took the rest, went
down to the seacoast, seduced the crews of forty ships, and then
joined Canute with his whole forces. Alas! there seems no hope now.
Epiphany, 1016.--
There is war all over the land--civil war. It is not to be wondered
at. But many Englishmen have given their allegiance to Canute, who now
professes himself a Christian, saying they will not serve Ethelred any
more. So Edmund and Canute are both, I fear, ravaging the land, for
Edmund has threatened more than once to regard those people as foes
who refuse to fight against the Danes. Men know not what to do.
Eastertide, 1016.--
We have received strange news. Ethelred is dying. He has summoned his
son. The tidings reached Edmund here. He had only been with us a
single day, and was about to depart again for the war, for Canute
threatens to attack London. It is there Ethelred lies sick unto death.
Edmund seemed more moved than I should have expected. He has departed
in all haste, taking Alfgar with him.