The Dragon and The Raven: Or The Days of King Alfred
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G. A. Henty >> The Dragon and The Raven: Or The Days of King Alfred
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"'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."
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