Edmund wept sorely for some time, for he knew that his kinsman's
agitation could be only caused by the death of his father. At last he
approached Egbert.
"My brave kinsman," he said, "I need ask you no questions, for I know
but too well that my dear father has fallen; but rouse yourself, I pray
you; let me bandage your wounds, which bleed fast, for you will want
all your strength, and we must needs pursue our way well into the
forest, for with to-morrow's dawn the Danes will scatter over the whole
country."
"Yes," Egbert said, turning round and sitting up, "I must not in my
grief forget my mission, and in truth I am faint with loss of blood. It
was well the Danes stopped when they did, for I felt my strength
failing me, and could have held out but little further. Yes, Edmund,"
he continued, as the lad, tearing strips from his garments, proceeded
to bandage his wounds, "your father is dead. Nobly, indeed, did he
fight; nobly did he die, with a circle of dead Danes around him. He,
Algar, Toley, and myself were the last four to resist. Back to back we
stood, and many were the Danes who fell before our blows. Toley fell
first and then Algar. The Danes closed closer around us. Still we
fought on, till your father was beaten to his knee, and then he cried
to me, 'Fly, Egbert, to my son.' Then I flung myself upon the Danes
like a wild boar upon the dogs, and with the suddenness of my rush and
the heavy blows of my battle-axe cut a way for myself through them. It
was well-nigh a miracle, and I could scarce believe it when I was free.
I flung away my shield and helmet as soon as I had well begun to run,
for I felt the blood gushing out from a dozen wounds, and knew that I
should want all my strength. I soon caught sight of you running ahead
of me. Had I found we were gaining upon you I should have turned off
and made another way to lead the Danes aside, but I soon saw that you
were holding your own, and so followed straight on. My knees trembled,
and I felt my strength was well-nigh gone, when, looking round, I found
the Danes had desisted from their pursuit. I grieve, Edmund, that I
should have left the battle alive when all the others have died
bravely, for, save a few fleet-footed youths, I believe that not a
single Saxon has escaped the fight; but your father had laid his
commands upon me, and I was forced to obey, though God knows I would
rather have died with the heroes on that field."
"'Tis well for me that you did not, my good Egbert," Edmund said,
drying his eyes, "for what should I have done in this troubled land
without one protector?"
"It was the thought of that," Egbert said, "that seemed to give me
strength as I dashed at the Danes. And now, methinks, I am strong
enough to walk again. Let us make our way far into the forest, then we
must rest for the night. A few hours' sleep will make a fresh man of
me, and to-morrow morning we will go to Croyland and see what the good
abbot your uncle proposes to do, then will we to the hut where we dwelt
before coming hither. We will dig up the chest and take out such
valuables as we can carry, and then make for Wessex. After this day's
work I have no longer any hope that East Anglia will successfully
oppose the Danes. And yet the Angles fought well, and for every one of
them who has fallen in these two days' fighting at least four Danes
must have perished. Have you food, Edmund, for in truth after such a
day's work I would not lie down supperless?"
"I have in my pouch here, Egbert, some cakes, which I cooked this
morning, and a capon which one of the monks of Croyland gave me. I was
tempted to throw it away as I ran."
"I am right glad, Edmund, that the temptation was not too strong for
you. If we can find a spring we shall do well."
It was now getting dark, but after an hour's walk through the forest
they came upon a running stream. They lit a fire by its side, and
sitting down ate the supper, of which both were in much need. Wolf
shared the repast, and then the three lay down to sleep. Egbert,
overcome by the immense exertions he had made during the fight, was
soon asleep; but Edmund, who had done his best to keep a brave face
before his kinsman, wept for hours over the loss of his gallant father.
On the following morning Egbert and Edmund started for Croyland. The
news of the defeat at Kesteven had already reached the abbey, and
terror and consternation reigned there. Edmund went at once to his
uncle and informed him of the circumstance of the death of his father
and the annihilation of the Saxon army.
"Your news, Edmund, is even worse than the rumours which had reached
me, and deeply do I grieve for the loss of my brave brother and of the
many valiant men who died with him. This evening or to-morrow the
spoilers will be here, and doubtless will do to Croyland as they have
done to all the other abbeys and monasteries which have fallen into
their hands. Before they come you and Egbert must be far away. Have you
bethought you whither you will betake yourselves?"
"We are going to the king of the West Saxons," Edmund replied. "Such
was my father's intention, and I fear that all is now lost in East
Anglia."
"'Tis your best course, and may God's blessing and protection rest upon
you!"
"But what are you going to do, uncle? Surely you will not remain here
until the Danes arrive, for though they may spare other men they have
no mercy on priests and monks?"
"I shall assuredly remain here, Edmund, at my post, and as my brother
Eldred and Earl Algar and their brave companions died at their posts in
the field of battle, so I am prepared to die here where God has placed
me. I shall retain here with me only a few of the most aged and infirm
monks, too old to fly or to support the hardships of the life of a
hunted fugitive in the fens; together with some of the children who
have fled here, and who, too, could not support such a life. It may be
that when the fierce Danes arrive and find nought but children and aged
men even their savage breasts may be moved to pity; but if not, God's
will be done. The younger brethren will seek refuge in the fens, and
will carry with them the sacred relics of the monastery. The most holy
body of St. Guthlac with his scourge and psalmistry, together with the
most valuable jewels and muniments, the charters of the foundation of
the abbey, given by King Ethelbald, and the confirmation thereof by
other kings, with some of the most precious gifts presented to the
abbey."
Edmund and Egbert set to work to assist the weeping monks in making
preparations for their departure. A boat was laden with the relics of
the saints, the muniments of the king, and the most precious vessels.
The table of the great altar covered with plates of gold, which King
Wichtlof had presented, with ten gold chalices, and many other vessels,
was thrown into the well of the convent.
In the distance the smoke of several villages could now be seen rising
over the plain, and it was clear that the Danes were approaching. The
ten priests and twenty monks who were to leave now knelt, and received
the solemn benediction of the abbot, then, with Edmund and Egbert, they
took their places in the boat and rowed away to the wood of Ancarig,
which lay not far from the abbey.
The abbot Theodore and the aged monks and priests now returned to the
church, and, putting on their vestments, commenced the services of the
day; the abbot himself celebrated high mass, assisted by brother Elfget
the deacon, brother Savin the sub-deacon, and the brothers Egelred and
Wyelric, youths who acted as taper-bearers. When the mass was finished,
just as the abbot and his assistants had partaken of the holy
communion, the Danes burst into the church. The abbot was slain upon
the holy altar by the hand of the Danish king Oskytal, and the other
priests and monks were beheaded by the executioner.
The old men and children in the choir were seized and tortured to
disclose where the treasures of the abbey were concealed, and were also
put to death with the prior and sub-prior. Turgar, an acolyte of ten
years of age; a remarkably beautiful boy, stood by the side of the
sub-prior as he was murdered and fearlessly confronted the Danes, and
bade them put him to death with the holy father. The young Earl Sidroc,
however, struck with the bearing of the child, and being moved with
compassion, stripped him of his robe and cowl, and threw over him a
long Danish tunic without sleeves, and ordering him to keep close by
him, made his way out of the monastery, the boy being the only one who
was saved from the general massacre.
The Danes, furious at being able to find none of the treasures of the
monastery, broke open all the shrines and levelled the marble tombs,
including those of St. Guthlac, the holy virgin Ethelbritha, and many
others, but found in these none of the treasure searched for. They
piled the bodies of the saints in a heap, and burned them, together
with the church and all the buildings of the monastery; then, with vast
herds of cattle and other plunder, they moved away from Croyland, and
attacked the monastery of Medeshamsted. Here the monks made a brave
resistance. The Danes brought up machines and attacked the monastery on
all sides, and effected a breach in the walls. Their first assault,
however, was repelled, and Fulba, the brother of Earl Hulba, was
desperately wounded by a stone.
Hulba was so infuriated at this that when, at the second assault, the
monastery was captured, he slew with his own hand everyone of the
monks, while all the country people who had taken refuge within the
walls were slaughtered by his companions, not one escaping. The altars
were levelled to the ground, the monuments broken in pieces. The great
library of parchments and charters was burnt. The holy relics were
trodden under foot, and the church itself, with all the monastic
buildings, burnt to the ground. Four days later, the Danes, having
devastated the whole country round and collected an enormous booty,
marched away against Huntingdon.
Edmund and Egbert remained but a few hours with the monks who had
escaped from the sack of Croyland; for, as soon as they saw the flames
mounting up above the church, they knew that the Danes had accomplished
their usual work of massacre, and there being no use in their making
further stay, they started upon their journey. They travelled by easy
stages, for time was of no value to them. For the most part their way
lay among forests, and when once they had passed south of Thetford they
had no fear of meeting with the Danes. Sometimes they slept at
farm-houses or villages, being everywhere hospitably received, the more
so when it was known that Edmund was the son of the brave ealdorman
Eldred; but the news which they brought of the disastrous battle of
Kesteven, and the southward march of the great Danish army, filled
everyone with consternation.
The maids and matrons wept with terror at the thought of the coming of
these terrible heathen, and although the men everywhere spoke of
resistance to the last, the prospect seemed so hopeless that even the
bravest were filled with grief and despair. Many spoke of leaving their
homes and retiring with their wives and families, their serfs and herds
to the country of the West Saxons, where alone there appeared any hope
of a successful resistance being made. Wherever they went Edmund and
Egbert brought by their news lamentation and woe to the households they
entered, and at last Edmund said:
"Egbert, let us enter no more houses until we reach the end of our
journey; wherever we go we are messengers of evil, and turn houses of
feasting into abodes of grief. Every night we have the same sad story
to tell, and have to witness the weeping and wailing of women. A
thousand times better were it to sleep among the woods, at any rate
until we are among the West Saxons, where our news may cause
indignation and rage at least, but where it will arouse a brave resolve
to resist to the last instead of the hopelessness of despair."
Egbert thoroughly agreed with the lad, and henceforth they entered no
houses save to buy bread and mead. Of meat they had plenty, for as they
passed through the forests Wolf was always upon the alert, and several
times found a wild boar in his lair, and kept him at bay until Edmund
and Egbert ran up and with spears and swords slew him. This supplied
them amply with meat, and gave them indeed far more than they could
eat, but they exchanged portions of the flesh for bread in the
villages. At last they came down upon the Thames near London, and
crossing the river journeyed west. They were now in the kingdom of the
West Saxons, the most warlike and valiant of the peoples of England,
and who had gradually extended their sway over the whole of the
country. The union was indeed but little more than nominal, as the
other kings retained their thrones, paying only a tribute to the West
Saxon monarchs.
As Egbert had predicted, their tale of the battle of Kesteven here
aroused no feeling save that of wrath and a desire for vengeance upon
the Danes. Swords were grasped, and all swore by the saints of what
should happen to the invaders should they set foot in Wessex. The
travellers felt their spirits rise at the martial and determined aspect
of the people.
"It is a sad pity," Egbert said to Edmund one day, "that these West
Saxons had not had time to unite England firmly together before the
Danes set foot on the island. It is our divisions which have rendered
their task so far easy. Northumbria, Mercia, and East Anglia have one
by one been invaded, and their kings have had to fight single-handed
against them, whereas had one strong king reigned over the whole
country, so that all our force could have been exerted against the
invader wherever he might land, the Danes would never have won a foot
of our soil. The sad day of Kesteven showed at least that we are able
to fight the Danes man for man. The first day we beat them, though they
were in superior numbers, the second we withstood them all day,
although they were ten to one against us, and they would never have
triumphed even then had our men listened to their leaders and kept
their ranks. I do not believe that even the West Saxons could have
fought more bravely than did our men on that day; but they are better
organized, their king is energetic and determined, and when the Danes
invade Wessex they will find themselves opposed by the whole people
instead of merely a hastily raised assemblage gathered in the
neighbourhood."
They presently approached Reading, where there was a royal fortress, in
which King Ethelred and his brother Alfred were residing.
"It is truly a fine city," Edmund said as he approached it; "its walls
are strong and high, and the royal palace, which rises above them, is
indeed a stately building."
They crossed the river and entered the gates of the town. There was
great bustle and traffic in the streets, cynings, or nobles, passed
along accompanied by parties of thanes, serfs laden with fuel or
provisions made their way in from the surrounding country, while
freemen, with their shields flung across their shoulders and their
swords by their sides, stalked with an independent air down the streets.
The travellers approached the royal residence. The gates were open, and
none hindered their entrance, for all who had business were free to
enter the royal presence and to lay their complaints or petitions
before the king.
Entering they found themselves in a large hall. The lower end of this
was occupied by many people, who conversed together in little groups or
awaited the summons of the king. Across the upper end of the room was a
raised dais, and in the centre of this was a wide chair capable of
holding three persons. The back and sides were high and richly carved.
A table supported by four carved and gilded legs stood before it. Two
persons were seated in the chair.
One was a man of three or four and twenty, the other was his junior by
some two years. Both wore light crowns of gold somewhat different in
their fashion. Before the younger was a parchment, an inkhorn, and
pens. King Ethelred was a man of a pleasant face, but marked by care
and by long vigils and rigorous fastings. Alfred was a singularly
handsome young prince, with an earnest and intellectual face. Both had
their faces shaven smooth. Ethelred wore his hair parted in the middle,
and falling low on each side of the face, but Alfred's was closely cut.
On the table near the younger brother stood a silver harp.
Edmund looked with great curiosity and interest on the young prince,
who was famous throughout England for his great learning, his wisdom,
and sweetness of temper. Although the youngest of the king's brothers,
he had always been regarded as the future King of England, and had his
father survived until he reached the age of manhood, he would probably
have succeeded directly to the throne. The law of primogeniture was by
no means strictly observed among the Saxons, a younger brother of
marked ability or of distinguished prowess in war being often chosen by
a father to succeed him in place of his elder brothers.
Alfred had been his father's favourite son. He had when a child been
consecrated by the pope as future King of England; and his two journeys
to Rome, and his residence at the court of the Frankish king had, with
his own great learning and study, given him a high prestige and
reputation among his people as one learned in the ways of the world.
Although but a prince, his authority in the kingdom nearly equalled
that of his brother, and it was he rather than Ethelred whom men
regarded as the prop and stay of the Saxons in the perils which were
now threatening them.
One after another, persons advanced to the table and laid their
complaints before the king; in cases of dispute both parties were
present and were often accompanied by witnesses. Ethelred and Alfred
listened attentively to all that was said on both sides, and then gave
their judgment. An hour passed, and then seeing that no one else
approached the table, Egbert, taking Edmund by the hand, led him
forward and knelt before the royal table.
"Whom have we here?" the king said. "This youth is by his attire one of
noble race, but I know not his face."
"We have come, sir king," Egbert said, "as fugitives and suppliants to
you. This is Edmund, the son of Ealdorman Eldred, a valiant cyning of
East Anglia, who, after fighting bravely against the Danes near
Thetford, joined Earl Algar, and died by his side on the fatal field of
Kesteven. He had himself purposed to come hither to you and to ask you
to accept him as your thane, and on the morn of the battle he charged
me if he fell to bring hither his son to you; and we pray you to
accept, in token of our homage to you, these vessels."
And here he placed two handsome goblets of silver gilt upon the table.
"I pray you rise," the king said. "I have assuredly heard of the brave
Eldred, and will gladly receive his son as my thane. I had not heard of
Eldred's death, though two days since the rumour of a heavy defeat of
the East Angles at Kesteven, and the sacrilegious destruction of the
holy houses of Bardenay, Croyland, and Medeshamsted reached our ears.
Were you present at the battle?"
"I was, sir king," Egbert said, "and fought beside Earl Algar and my
kinsman the Ealdorman Eldred until both were slain by the Danes, and I
with difficulty cut my way through them and escaped to carry out my
kinsman's orders regarding his son."
"You are a stout champion yourself," the king said, regarding with
admiration Egbert's huge proportions; "but tell us the story of this
battle, of which at present but vague rumours have reached us." Egbert
related the incidents of the battle of Kesteven. "It was bravely
fought," the king said when he had concluded; "right well and bravely,
and better fortune should have attended such valour. Truly the brave
Algar has shown that we Saxons have not lost the bravery which
distinguished our ancestors, and that, man for man, we are equal to
these heathen Danes."
"But methinks," Prince Alfred said, "that the brave Algar and his
valiant companions did wrong to throw away their lives when all was
lost. So long as there is the remotest chance of victory it is the duty
of a leader to set an example of valour to his followers, but when all
is lost he should think of his country. What though the brave thanes
slew each a score of Danes before they died, their death has left their
countrymen without a leader, and by that one battle the Danes have made
themselves masters of the north of East Anglia. Better far had they,
when the day was lost, retreated, to gather the people together when a
better opportunity presented itself, and again to make head against the
invaders. It is heathen rather than Christian warfare thus to throw
away their lives rather than to retreat and wait for God's time to come
again. To stake all on one throw, which if lost loses a whole people,
seems to me the act of a gamester. I trust that, should the time ever
come, as it is too much to be feared it will ere long, that the Danes
invade my brother's kingdom of Wessex, I shall not be found wanting in
courage; but assuredly when defeated in battle I would not throw away
my life, for that belongs to our people rather than to myself, but
would retire to some refuge until I could again gather the Saxons
around me and attack the invaders. I like the face of the young
ealdorman, and doubt not that he will prove a valiant warrior like his
father. My brother will doubtless assign him lands for his maintenance
and yours; but if he will let me I will attach him to my person, and
will be at once a master and a friend to him. Wouldst thou like this,
young Edmund?"
The lad, greatly pleased at the young prince's kindness of speech and
manner, replied enthusiastically that he would follow him to the death
if he would accept him as his faithful thane.
"Had the times been more peaceful, Edmund," Alfred said, "I would fain
have imparted to you some of the little knowledge that I have gained,
for I see an intelligence in your face which tells me that you would
have proved an apt and eager pupil; but, alas, in the days that are
coming it is the sword rather than the book which will prevail, and the
cares of state, and the defence of the country, will shortly engross
all my time and leave me but little leisure for the studies I love so
well."
"There are the lands," the king said, "of Eabald, Ealdorman of
Sherborne, in Dorset. He died but last week and has left no children.
These lands I will grant to Edmund in return for liege and true
service." The lad knelt before the king, and, kissing his hand, swore
to be his true and faithful thane, and to spend land, goods, and life
in his service.
"And now," the king said, "since the audience is over, and none other
comes before us with petitions, we will retire to our private
apartments, and there my brother Alfred will present you to the fair
Elswitha, his wife."
The room into which Egbert and Edmund followed the king and his brother
was spacious and lofty. The walls were covered with hangings of red
cloth, and a thick brown baize covered the floor. The ceiling was
painted a dark brown with much gilding. Round the sides of the room
stood several dressers of carved oak, upon which stood gold and silver
cups.
On a table were several illuminated vellums. At Croyland Edmund had
seen a civilization far in advance of that to which he had been
accustomed in his father's abode; but he saw here a degree of luxury
and splendour which surprised him. Alfred had, during his two visits to
Rome, learned to appreciate the high degree of civilization which
reigned there, and many of the articles of furniture and other objects
which met Edmund's eye he had brought with him on his return with his
father from that city.
Across the upper end of the room was a long table laid with a white
cloth. Elswitha was sitting in a large gilded chair by the great fire
which was blazing on the hearth.
Prince Alfred presented Edmund and Egbert to her. Elswitha was well
acquainted with the Ealdorman Eldred, as his lands lay on the very
border of her native Mercia, and she received the lad and his kinsman
with great kindness. In a short time they took their places at table.
First the attendance brought in bowls containing broth, which they
presented, kneeling, to each of those at table. The broth was drunk
from the bowl itself; then a silver goblet was placed by each diner,
and was filled with wine. Fish was next served. Plates were placed
before each; but instead of their cutting food with their own daggers,
as Edmund had been accustomed to see in his father's house, knives were
handed round. After the fish came venison, followed by wild boar,
chickens, and other meats. After these confections, composed chiefly of
honey, were placed on the table. The king and Prince Alfred pledged
their guests when they drank. No forks were used, the meat as cut being
taken up by pieces of bread to the mouth. During the meal a harper
played and sung.
Edmund observed the decorum with which his royal hosts fed, and the
care which they took to avoid dipping their fingers into their saucers
or their plates. He was also struck with the small amount of wine which
they took; for the Saxons in general were large feeders, and drank
heavily at their meals.
When the dinner was over a page brought round a basin of warm water, in
which lavender had been crushed, and each dipped his fingers in this
and then dried them on the cloth. Then at Prince Alfred's request
Egbert again related in full the details of the two days' desperate
struggle at Kesteven, giving the most minute particulars of the Danes'
method of fighting. Egbert and Edmund then retired to the royal
guest-house adjoining the palace, where apartments were assigned to
them.
After remaining for a week at Reading they took leave of the king and
started for the lands which he had assigned to Edmund. They were
accompanied by an officer of the royal household, who was to inform the
freemen and serfs of the estate that by the king's pleasure Edmund had
been appointed ealdorman of the lands. They found on arrival that the
house had been newly built, and was large and comfortable. The thanes
of the district speedily came in to pay their respects to their new
ealdorman, and although surprised to find him so young, they were
pleased with his bearing and manner, and knowing that he came of good
fighting blood doubted not that in time he would make a valiant leader.
All who came were hospitably entertained, and for many days there was
high feasting. So far removed was this part of England from the
district which the Danes had invaded, that at present but slight alarm
had been caused by them; but Edmund and his kinsman lost no time in
impressing upon them the greatness of the coming danger.
"You may be sure," he said, "that ere long we shall see their galleys
on the coast. When they have eaten up Mercia and Anglia they will
assuredly come hither, and we shall have to fight for our lives, and
unless we are prepared it will go hard with us."
After he had been at his new residence for a month Edmund sent out
messengers to all the thanes in his district requesting them to
assemble at a council, and then formally laid the matter before them.
"It is, above all things," he said, "necessary that we should have some
place where we can place the women and children in case of invasion and
where we can ourselves retire in extreme necessity. Therefore I propose
that we shall build a fort of sufficient size to contain all the
inhabitants of the district, with many flocks and herds. My cousin
Egbert has ridden far over the country, and recommends that the Roman
fortification at Moorcaster shall be utilized. It is large in extent,
and has a double circle of earthen banks. These differ from those which
we are wont to build, since we Saxons always fill up the ground so as
to be flat with the top of the earthen banks, while the Romans left
theirs hollow. However, the space is so large that it would take a vast
labour to fill it up, therefore I propose that we should merely thicken
the banks, and should, in Saxon custom, build a wall with turrets upon
them. The sloping banks alone would be but a small protection against
the onslaught of the Danes, but stone walls are another matter, and
could only be carried after a long siege. If you fall in with my views
you will each of you send half your serfs to carry out the work, and I
will do the same, and will, moreover, pay fifty freemen who may do the
squaring of the stones and the proper laying of them."
The proposal led to a long discussion, as some thought that there was
no occasion as yet to take such a measure; but the thanes finally
agreed to carry out Edmund's proposal.