The Dragon and the Raven; Or, The Days of King Alfred
by G. A. Henty · English · Gutenberg #3674 · 473,576 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Dragon and the Raven; Or, The Days of King Alfred
Author: G. A. Henty
Release date: January 1, 2003 [eBook #3674]
Most recently updated: January 8, 2021
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3674
Credits: Produced by Ronald J. Goodden. HTML version by Al Haines
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRAGON AND THE RAVEN; OR, THE DAYS OF KING ALFRED ***
Produced by Ronald J. Goodden. HTML version by Al Haines
THE DRAGON AND THE RAVEN:
Or The Days of King Alfred
By
G. A. Henty
C O N T E N T S
PREFACE
I. THE FUGITIVES
II. THE BATTLE OF KESTEVEN
III. THE MASSACRE AT CROYLAND
IV. THE INVASION OF WESSEX
V. A DISCIPLINED BAND
VI. THE SAXON FORT
VII. THE DRAGON
VIII. THE CRUISE OF THE DRAGON
IX. A PRISONER
X. THE COMBAT
XI. THE ISLE OF ATHELNEY
XII. FOUR YEARS OF PEACE
XIII. THE SIEGE OF PARIS
XIV. THE REPULSE OF THE NORSEMEN
XV. FRIENDS IN TROUBLE
XVI. FREDA
XVII. A LONG CHASE
XVIII. FREDA DISCOVERED
XIX. UNITED
PREFACE
MY DEAR LADS,
Living in the present days of peace and tranquillity it is difficult to
picture the life of our ancestors in the days of King Alfred, when the
whole country was for years overrun by hordes of pagan barbarians, who
slaughtered, plundered, and destroyed at will. You may gain, perhaps, a
fair conception of the state of things if you imagine that at the time
of the great mutiny the English population of India approached that of
the natives, and that the mutiny was everywhere triumphant. The
wholesale massacres and outrages which would in such a case have been
inflicted upon the conquered whites could be no worse than those
suffered by the Saxons at the hands of the Danes. From this terrible
state of subjection and suffering the Saxons were rescued by the
prudence, the patience, the valour and wisdom of King Alfred. In all
subsequent ages England has produced no single man who united in
himself so many great qualities as did this first of great Englishmen.
He was learned, wise, brave, prudent, and pious; devoted to his people,
clement to his conquered enemies. He was as great in peace as in war;
and yet few English boys know more than a faint outline of the events
of Alfred's reign--events which have exercised an influence upon the
whole future of the English people. School histories pass briefly over
them; and the incident of the burned cake is that which is, of all the
actions of a great and glorious reign, the most prominent in boys'
minds. In this story I have tried to supply the deficiency. Fortunately
in the Saxon Chronicles and in the life of King Alfred written by his
friend and counsellor Asser, we have a trustworthy account of the
events and battles which first laid Wessex prostrate beneath the foot
of the Danes, and finally freed England for many years from the
invaders. These histories I have faithfully followed. The account of
the siege of Paris is taken from a very full and detailed history of
that event by the Abbe D'Abbon, who was a witness of the scenes he
described.
Yours sincerely,
G. A. HENTY
CHAPTER I: THE FUGITIVES
A low hut built of turf roughly thatched with rushes and standing on
the highest spot of some slightly raised ground. It was surrounded by a
tangled growth of bushes and low trees, through which a narrow and
winding path gave admission to the narrow space on which the hut stood.
The ground sloped rapidly. Twenty yards from the house the trees
ceased, and a rank vegetation of reeds and rushes took the place of the
bushes, and the ground became soft and swampy. A little further pools
of stagnant water appeared among the rushes, and the path abruptly
stopped at the edge of a stagnant swamp, though the passage could be
followed by the eye for some distance among the tall rushes. The hut,
in fact, stood on a hummock in the midst of a wide swamp where the
water sometimes deepened into lakes connected by sluggish streams.
On the open spaces of water herons stalked near the margin, and great
flocks of wild-fowl dotted the surface. Other signs of life there were
none, although a sharp eye might have detected light threads of smoke
curling up here and there from spots where the ground rose somewhat
above the general level. These slight elevations, however, were not
visible to the eye, for the herbage here grew shorter than on the lower
and wetter ground, and the land apparently stretched away for a vast
distance in a dead flat--a rush-covered swamp, broken only here and
there by patches of bushes and low trees.
The little hut was situated in the very heart of the fen country, now
drained and cultivated, but in the year 870 untouched by the hand of
man, the haunt of wild-fowl and human fugitives. At the door of the hut
stood a lad some fourteen years old. His only garment was a short
sleeveless tunic girded in at the waist, his arms and legs were bare;
his head was uncovered, and his hair fell in masses on his shoulders.
In his hand he held a short spear, and leaning against the wall of the
hut close at hand was a bow and quiver of arrows. The lad looked at the
sun, which was sinking towards the horizon.
"Father is late," he said. "I trust that no harm has come to him and
Egbert. He said he would return to-day without fail; he said three or
four days, and this is the fourth. It is dull work here alone. You
think so, Wolf, don't you, old fellow? And it is worse for you than it
is for me, pent up on this hummock of ground with scarce room to
stretch your limbs."
A great wolf-hound, who was lying with his head between his paws by the
embers of a fire in the centre of the hut, raised his head on being
addressed, and uttered a low howl indicative of his agreement with his
master's opinion and his disgust at his present place of abode.
"Never mind, old fellow," the boy continued, "we sha'n't be here long,
I hope, and then you shall go with me in the woods again and hunt the
wolves to your heart's content." The great hound gave a lazy wag of his
tail. "And now, Wolf, I must go. You lie here and guard the hut while I
am away. Not that you are likely to have any strangers to call in my
absence."
The dog rose and stretched himself, and followed his master down the
path until it terminated at the edge of the water. Here he gave a low
whimper as the lad stepped in and waded through the water; then turning
he walked back to the hut and threw himself down at the door. The boy
proceeded for some thirty or forty yards through the water, then paused
and pushed aside the wall of rushes which bordered the passage, and
pulled out a boat which was floating among them.
It was constructed of osier rods neatly woven together into a sort of
basket-work, and covered with an untanned hide with the hairy side in.
It was nearly oval in shape, and resembled a great bowl some three feet
and a half wide and a foot longer. A broad paddle with a long handle
lay in it, and the boy, getting into it and standing erect in the
middle paddled down the strip of water which a hundred yards further
opened out into a broad half a mile long and four or five hundred yards
wide. Beyond moving slowly away as the coracle approached them, the
water-fowl paid but little heed to its appearance.
The boy paddled to the end of the broad, whence a passage, through
which flowed a stream so sluggish that its current could scarce be
detected, led into the next sheet of water. Across the entrance to this
passage floated some bundles of light rushes. These the boy drew out
one by one. Attached to each was a piece of cord which, being pulled
upon, brought to the surface a large cage, constructed somewhat on the
plan of a modern eel or lobster pot. They were baited by pieces of dead
fish, and from them the boy extracted half a score of eels and as many
fish of different kinds.
"Not a bad haul," he said as he lowered the cages to the bottom again.
"Now let us see what we have got in our pen."
He paddled a short way along the broad to a point where a little lane
of water ran up through the rushes. This narrowed rapidly and the lad
got out from his boat into the water, as the coracle could proceed no
further between the lines of rushes. The water was knee-deep and the
bottom soft and oozy. At the end of the creek it narrowed until the
rushes were but a foot apart. They were bent over here, as it would
seem to a superficial observer naturally; but a close examination would
show that those facing each other were tied together where they crossed
at a distance of a couple of feet above the water, forming a sort of
tunnel. Two feet farther on this ceased, and the rushes were succeeded
by lines of strong osier withies, an inch or two apart, arched over and
fastened together. At this point was a sort of hanging door formed of
rushes backed with osiers, and so arranged that at the slightest push
from without the door lifted and enabled a wild-fowl to pass under, but
dropping behind it prevented its exit. The osier tunnel widened out to
a sort of inverted basket three feet in diameter.
On the surface of the creek floated some grain which had been scattered
there the evening before as a bait. The lad left the creek before he
got to the narrower part, and, making a small circuit in the swamp,
came down upon the pen.
"Good!" he said, "I am in luck to-day; here are three fine ducks."
Bending the yielding osiers aside, he drew out the ducks one by one,
wrung their necks, and passing their heads through his girdle, made his
way again to the coracle. Then he scattered another handful or two of
grain on the water, sparingly near the mouth of the creek, but more
thickly at the entrance to the trap, and then paddled back again by the
way he had come.
Almost noiselessly as he dipped the paddle in the water, the hound's
quick ear had caught the sound, and he was standing at the edge of the
swamp, wagging his tail in dignified welcome as his master stepped on
to dry land.
"There, Wolf, what do you think of that? A good score of eels and fish
and three fine wild ducks. That means bones for you with your meal
to-night--not to satisfy your hunger, you know, for they would not be
of much use in that way, but to give a flavour to your supper. Now let
us make the fire up and pluck the birds, for I warrant me that father
and Egbert, if they return this evening, will be sharp-set. There are
the cakes to bake too, so you see there is work for the next hour or
two."
The sun had set now, and the flames, dancing up as the boy threw an
armful of dry wood on the fire, gave the hut a more cheerful
appearance. For some time the lad busied himself with preparation for
supper. The three ducks were plucked in readiness for putting over the
fire should they be required; cakes of coarse rye-flour were made and
placed in the red ashes of the fire; and then the lad threw himself
down by the side of the dog.
"No, Wolf, it is no use your looking at those ducks. I am not going to
roast them if no one comes; I have got half a one left from dinner."
After sitting quiet for half an hour the dog suddenly raised himself
into a sitting position, with ears erect and muzzle pointed towards the
door; then he gave a low whine, and his tail began to beat the ground
rapidly.
"What! do you hear them, old fellow?" the boy said, leaping to his
feet. "I wish my ears were as sharp as yours are, Wolf; there would be
no fear then of being caught asleep. Come on, old boy, let us go and
meet them."
It was some minutes after he reached the edge of the swamp before the
boy could hear the sounds which the quick ears of the hound had
detected. Then he heard a faint splashing noise, and a minute or two
later two figures were seen wading through the water.
"Welcome back, father," the lad cried. "I was beginning to be anxious
about you, for here we are at the end of the fourth day."
"I did not name any hour, Edmund," the boy's father said, as he stepped
from the water, "but I own that I did not reckon upon being so late;
but in truth Egbert and I missed our way in the windings of these
swamps, and should not have been back to-night had we not luckily
fallen upon a man fishing, who was able to put us right. You have got
some supper, I hope, for Egbert and I are as hungry as wolves, for we
have had nothing since we started before sunrise."
"I have plenty to eat, father; but you will have to wait till it is
cooked, for it was no use putting it over the fire until I knew that
you would return; but there is a good fire, and you will not have to
wait long. And how has it fared with you, and what is the news?"
"The news is bad, Edmund. The Danes are ever receiving reinforcements
from Mercia, and scarce a day passes but fresh bands arrive at
Thetford, and I fear that ere long East Anglia, like Northumbria, will
fall into their clutches. Nay, unless we soon make head against them
they will come to occupy all the island, just as did our forefathers."
"That were shame indeed," Edmund exclaimed. "We know that the people
conquered by our ancestors were unwarlike and cowardly; but it would be
shame indeed were we Saxons so to be overcome by the Danes, seeing
moreover that we have the help of God, being Christians, while the
Danes are pagans and idolaters."
"Nevertheless, my son, for the last five years these heathen have been
masters of Northumbria, have wasted the whole country, and have
plundered and destroyed the churches and monasteries. At present they
have but made a beginning here in East Anglia; but if they continue to
flock in they will soon overrun the whole country, instead of having,
as at present, a mere foothold near the rivers except for those who
have come down to Thetford. We have been among the first sufferers,
seeing that our lands lie round Thetford, and hitherto I have hoped
that there would be a general rising against these invaders; but the
king is indolent and unwarlike, and I see that he will not arouse
himself and call his ealdormen and thanes together for a united effort
until it is too late. Already from the north the Danes are flocking
down into Mercia, and although the advent of the West Saxons to the aid
of the King of Mercia forced them to retreat for a while, I doubt not
that they will soon pour down again."
"'Tis a pity, father, that the Saxons are not all under one leading;
then we might surely defend England against the Danes. If the people
did but rise and fall upon each band of Northmen as they arrived they
would get no footing among us."
"Yes," the father replied, "it is the unhappy divisions between the
Saxon kingdoms which have enabled the Danes to get so firm a footing in
the land. Our only hope now lies in the West Saxons. Until lately they
were at feud with Mercia; but the royal families are now related by
marriage, seeing that the King of Mercia is wedded to a West Saxon
princess, and that Alfred, the West Saxon king's brother and heir to
the throne, has lately espoused one of the royal blood of Mercia. The
fact that they marched at the call of the King of Mercia and drove the
Danes from Nottingham shows that the West Saxon princes are alive to
the common danger of the country, and if they are but joined heartily
by our people of East Anglia and the Mercians, they may yet succeed in
checking the progress of these heathen. And now, Edmund, as we see no
hope of any general effort to drive the Danes off our coasts, 'tis
useless for us to lurk here longer. I propose to-morrow, then, to
journey north into Lincolnshire, to the Abbey of Croyland, where, as
you know, my brother Theodore is the abbot; there we can rest in peace
for a time, and watch the progress of events. If we hear that the
people of these parts are aroused from their lethargy, we will come
back and fight for our home and lands; if not, I will no longer stay in
East Anglia, which I see is destined to fall piecemeal into the hands
of the Danes; but we will journey down to Somerset, and I will pray
King Ethelbert to assign me lands there, and to take me as his thane."
While they had been thus talking Egbert had been broiling the eels and
wild ducks over the fire. He was a freeman, and a distant relation of
Edmund's father, Eldred, who was an ealdorman in West Norfolk, his
lands lying beyond Thetford, and upon whom, therefore, the first brunt
of the Danish invasion from Mercia had fallen. He had made a stout
resistance, and assembling his people had given battle to the invaders.
These, however, were too strong and numerous, and his force having been
scattered and dispersed, he had sought refuge with Egbert and his son
in the fen country. Here he had remained for two months in hopes that
some general effort would be made to drive back the Danes; but being
now convinced that at present the Angles were too disunited to join in
a common effort, he determined to retire for a while from the scene.
"I suppose, father," Edmund said, "you will leave your treasures buried
here?"
"Yes," his father replied; "we have no means of transporting them, and
we can at any time return and fetch them. We must dig up the big chest
and take such garments as we may need, and the personal ornaments of
our rank; but the rest, with the gold and silver vessels, can remain
here till we need them."
Gold and silver vessels seem little in accordance with the primitive
mode of life prevailing in the ninth century. The Saxon civilization
was indeed a mixed one. Their mode of life was primitive, their
dwellings, with the exception of the religious houses and the abodes of
a few of the great nobles, simple in the extreme; but they possessed
vessels of gold and silver, armlets, necklaces, and ornaments of the
same metals, rich and brightly coloured dresses, and elaborate bed
furniture while their tables and household utensils were of the
roughest kind, and their floors strewn with rushes. When they invaded
and conquered England they found existing the civilization introduced
by the Romans, which was far in advance of their own; much of this they
adopted. The introduction of Christianity further advanced them in the
scale.
The prelates and monks from Rome brought with them a high degree of
civilization, and this to no small extent the Saxons imitated and
borrowed. The church was held in much honour, great wealth and
possessions were bestowed upon it, and the bishops and abbots possessed
large temporal as well as spiritual power, and bore a prominent part in
the councils of the kingdoms. But even in the handsome and well-built
monasteries, with their stately services and handsome vestments,
learning was at the lowest ebb--so low, indeed, that when Prince Alfred
desired to learn Latin he could find no one in his father's dominions
capable of teaching him, and his studies were for a long time hindered
for want of an instructor, and at the time he ascended the throne he
was probably the only Englishman outside a monastery who was able to
read and write fluently.
"Tell me, father," Edmund said after the meal was concluded, "about the
West Saxons, since it is to them, as it seems, that we must look for
the protection of England against the Danes. This Prince Alfred, of
whom I before heard you speak in terms of high praise, is the brother,
is he not, of the king? In that case how is it that he does not reign
in Kent, which I thought, though joined to the West Saxon kingdom, was
always ruled over by the eldest son of the king."
"Such has been the rule, Edmund; but seeing the troubled times when
Ethelbert came to the throne, it was thought better to unite the two
kingdoms under one crown with the understanding that at Ethelbert's
death Alfred should succeed him. Their father, Ethelwulf, was a weak
king, and should have been born a churchman rather than a prince. He
nominally reigned over Wessex, Kent, and Mercia, but the last paid him
but a slight allegiance. Alfred was his favourite son, and he sent him,
when quite a child, to Rome for a visit. In 855 he himself, with a
magnificent retinue, and accompanied by Alfred, visited Rome,
travelling through the land of the Franks, and it was there, doubtless,
that Alfred acquired that love of learning, and many of those ideas,
far in advance of his people, which distinguish him. His mother,
Osburgha, died before he and his father started on the pilgrimage. The
king was received with much honour by the pope, to whom he presented a
gold crown of four pounds weight, ten dishes of the purest gold, a
sword richly set in gold, two gold images, some silver-gilt urns,
stoles bordered with gold and purple, white silken robes embroidered
with figures, and other costly articles of clothing for the celebration
of the service of the church, together with rich presents in gold and
silver to the churches, bishops, clergy, and other dwellers in Rome.
They say that the people of Rome marvelled much at these magnificent
gifts from a king of a country which they had considered as barbarous.
On his way back he married Judith, daughter of the King of the Franks;
a foolish marriage, for the king was far advanced in years and Judith
was but a girl.
"Ethelbald, Ethelwulf's eldest son, had acted as regent in his father's
absence, and so angered was he at this marriage that he raised his
standard of revolt against his father. At her marriage Judith had been
crowned queen, and this was contrary to the customs of the West Saxons,
therefore Ethelbald was supported by the people of that country; on his
father's return to England, however, father and son met, and a division
of the kingdom was agreed upon.
"Ethelbald received Wessex, the principal part of the kingdom, and
Ethelwulf took Kent, which he had already ruled over in the time of his
father Egbert. Ethelwulf died a few months afterwards, leaving Kent to
Ethelbert, his second surviving son. The following year, to the horror
and indignation of the people of the country, Ethelbald married his
stepmother Judith, but two years afterwards died, and Ethelbert, King
of Kent, again united Wessex to his own dominions, which consisted of
Kent, Surrey, and Sussex. Ethelbert reigned but a short time, and at
his death Ethelred, his next brother, ascended the throne. Last year
Alfred, the youngest brother, married Elswitha, the daughter of
Ethelred Mucil, Earl of the Gaini, in Lincolnshire, whose mother was
one of the royal family of Mercia.
"It was but a short time after the marriage that the Danes poured into
Mercia from the north. Messengers were sent to ask the assistance of
the West Saxons. These at once obeyed the summons, and, joining the
Mercians, marched against the Danes, who shut themselves up in the
strong city of Nottingham, and were there for some time besieged. The
place was strong, the winter at hand, and the time of the soldiers'
service nearly expired. A treaty was accordingly made by which the
Danes were allowed to depart unharmed to the north side of the Humber,
and the West Saxons returned to their kingdom.
"Such is the situation at present, but we may be sure that the Danes
will not long remain quiet, but will soon gather for another invasion;
ere long, too, we may expect another of their great fleets to arrive
somewhere off these coasts, and every Saxon who can bear arms had need
take the field to fight for our country and faith against these heathen
invaders. Hitherto, Edmund, as you know, I have deeply mourned the
death of your mother, and of your sisters who died in infancy; but now
I feel that it is for the best, for a terrible time is before us. We
men can take refuge in swamp and forest, but it would have been hard
for delicate women; and those men are best off who stand alone and are
able to give every thought and energy to the defence of their country.
'Tis well that you are now approaching an age when the Saxon youth are
wont to take their place in the ranks of battle. I have spared no pains
with your training in arms, and though assuredly you lack strength yet
to cope in hand-to-hand conflict with these fierce Danes, you may yet
take your part in battle, with me on one side of you and Egbert on the
other. I have thought over many things of late, and it seems to me that
we Saxons have done harm in holding the people of this country as
serfs."
"Why, father," Edmund exclaimed in astonishment, "surely you would not
have all men free and equal."
"The idea seems strange to you, no doubt, Edmund, and it appears only
natural that some men should be born to rule and others to labour, but
this might be so even without serfdom, since, as you know, the poorer
freemen labour just as do the serfs, only they receive a somewhat
larger guerdon for their toil; but had the two races mixed more closely
together, had serfdom been abolished and all men been free and capable
of bearing arms, we should have been able to show a far better front to
the Danes, seeing that the serfs are as three to one to the freemen."
"But the serfs are cowardly and spiritless," Edmund said; "they are not
of a fighting race, and fell almost without resistance before our
ancestors when they landed here."
"Their race is no doubt inferior to our own, Edmund," his father said,
"seeing that they are neither so tall nor so strong as we Saxons, but
of old they were not deficient in bravery, for they fought as stoutly
against the Romans as did our own hardy ancestors. After having been
for hundreds of years subject to the Roman yoke, and having no occasion
to use arms, they lost their manly virtues, and when the Romans left
them were an easy prey for the first comer. Our fathers could not
foresee that the time would come when they too in turn would be
invaded. Had they done so, methinks they would not have set up so broad
a line of separation between themselves and the Britons, but would have
admitted the latter to the rights of citizenship, in which case
intermarriage would have taken place freely, and the whole people would
have become amalgamated. The Britons, accustomed to our free
institutions, and taking part in the wars between the various Saxon
kingdoms, would have recovered their warlike virtues, and it would be
as one people that we should resist the Danes. As it is, the serfs, who
form by far the largest part of the population, are apathetic and
cowardly; they view the struggle with indifference, for what signifies
to them whether Dane or Saxon conquer; they have no interest in the
struggle, nothing to lose or to gain, it is but a change of masters."
Edmund was silent. The very possibility of a state of things in which
there should be no serfs, and when all men should be free and equal,
had never occurred to him; but he had a deep respect for his father,
who bore indeed the reputation of being one of the wisest and most
clear-headed of the nobles of East Anglia, and it seemed to him that
this strange and novel doctrine contained much truth in it. Still the
idea was as strange to him as it would have been to the son of a
southern planter in America half a century ago. The existence of slaves
seemed as much a matter of course as that of horses or dogs, and
although he had been accustomed to see from time to time freedom
bestowed upon some favourite serf as a special reward for services, the
thought of a general liberation of the slaves was strange and almost
bewildering, and he lay awake puzzling over the problem long after his
father and kinsman had fallen asleep.
CHAPTER II: THE BATTLE OF KESTEVEN
The following morning early the little party started. The great chest
was dug up from its place of concealment, and they resumed their
ordinary dresses. The ealdorman attired himself in a white tunic with a
broad purple band round the lower edge, with a short cloak of green
cloth. This was fastened with a gold brooch at the neck; a necklet of
the same metal and several gold bracelets completed his costume, except
that he wore a flat cap and sandals. Edmund had a green tunic and cloak
of deep red colour; while Egbert was dressed in yellow with a green
cloak--the Saxons being extremely fond of bright colours.
All wore daggers, whose sheaths were incrusted in silver, in their
belts, and the ealdorman and his kinsman carried short broad-bladed
swords, while Edmund had his boar-spear. Eldred placed in the pouch
which hung at his side a bag containing a number of silver cubes cut
from a long bar and roughly stamped. The chest was then buried again in
its place of concealment among the bushes near the hut, Edmund placed
his bows and arrows in the boat--not that in which Edmund had fished,
but the much larger and heavier craft which Eldred and Egbert had
used--and then the party, with the hound, took their places in it. The
ealdorman and Egbert were provided with long poles, and with these they
sent the little boat rapidly through the water.
After poling their way for some eight hours they reached the town of
Norwich, to which the Danes had not yet penetrated; here, procuring
what articles they needed, they proceeded on their journey to Croyland,
making a great circuit to avoid the Danes at Thetford. The country was
for the most part covered with thick forests, where the wild boar and
deer roamed undisturbed by man, and where many wolves still lurked,
although the number in the country had been greatly diminished by the
energetic measures which King Egbert had taken for the destruction of
these beasts. Their halting-places were for the most part at religious
houses, which then served the purpose of inns for travellers, being
freely opened to those whom necessity or pleasure might cause to
journey. Everywhere they found the monks in a state of alarm at the
progress of the Danes, who, wherever they went, destroyed the churches
and religious houses, and slew the monks.
Eldred was everywhere received with marked honour; being known as a
wise and valiant noble, his opinions on the chances of the situation
were eagerly listened to, and he found the monks at all their
halting-places prepared, if need be, to take up arms and fight the
pagan invaders, as those of Mercia and Wessex had done in the preceding
autumn. The travellers, on arriving at Croyland, were warmly welcomed.
"I heard, brother," the abbot said, "that you had bravely fought
against the Danes near Thetford, and have been sorely anxious since the
news came of the dispersal of your force."
"I have been in hiding," Eldred said, "hoping that a general effort
would be made against the invaders. My own power was broken, since all
my lands are in their hands. The people of East Anglia foolishly seem
to suppose that, so long as the Danes remain quiet, the time has not
come for action. They will repent their lethargy some day, for, as the
Danes gather in strength, they will burst out over the surrounding
country as a dammed-up river breaks its banks. No, brother, I regard
East Anglia as lost so far as depends upon itself; its only hope is in
the men of Kent and Wessex, whom we must now look upon as our
champions, and who may yet stem the tide of invasion and drive back the
Danes. This abbey of yours stands in a perilous position, being not far
removed from the Humber, where so many of the Danes find entrance to
England."
"It is not without danger, Eldred, but the men of the fens are
numerous, hardy and brave, and will offer a tough resistance to any who
may venture to march hitherward, and if, as I hope, you will stay with
us, and will undertake their command, we may yet for a long time keep
the Danes from our doors."
For some weeks the time passed quietly. Edmund spent most of his time
in hunting, being generally accompanied by Egbert. The Saxon was an
exceedingly tall and powerful man, slow and scanty of speech, who had
earned for himself the title of Egbert the Silent. He was devoted to
his kinsmen and regarded himself as special guardian of Edmund. He had
instructed him in the use of arms, and always accompanied him when he
went out to hunt the boar, standing ever by his side to aid him to
receive the rush of the wounded and furious beasts; and more than once,
when Edmund had been borne down by their onslaughts, and would have
been severely wounded, if not killed, a sweeping blow of Egbert's sword
had rid him of his assailant.
Sometimes Edmund made excursions in the fens, where with nets and
snares he caught the fish which swarmed in the sluggish waters; or,
having covered his boat with a leafy bower until it resembled a
floating bush, drifted close to the flocks of wild-fowl, and with his
bow and arrows obtained many a plump wild duck. Smaller birds were
caught in snares or traps, or with bird-lime smeared on twigs. Eldred
seldom joined his son in his hunting excursions, as he was busied with
his brother the abbot in concerting the measures of defence and in
organizing a band of messengers, who, on the first warning of danger,
could be despatched throughout the fens to call in the fisher
population to the defence of the abbey.
It was on the 18th of September, 870, that a messenger arrived at the
abbey and craved instant speech with the prior. The latter, who was
closeted with his brother, ordered the man to be admitted.
"I come," he said, "from Algar the ealdorman. He bids me tell you that
a great Danish host has landed from the Humber at Lindsay. The rich
monastery of Bardenay has been pillaged and burned. Algar is assembling
all the inhabitants of the marsh lands to give them battle, and he
prays you to send what help you can spare, for assuredly they will
march hither should he be defeated."
"Return to the ealdorman," the abbot said; "tell him that every lay
brother and monk who can bear arms shall march hence to join him under
the command of lay brother Toley, whose deeds of arms against the Danes
in Mercia are well known to him. My brother here, Eldred, will head all
the inhabitants of the marshes of this neighbourhood. With these and
the brothers of the abbey, in all, as I reckon, nigh four hundred men,
he will to-morrow march to join Algar."
Messengers were at once sent off through the surrounding country
bidding every man assemble on the morrow morning at Croyland, and soon
after daybreak they began to arrive. Some were armed with swords, some
with long sickles, used in cutting rushes, tied to poles, some had
fastened long pieces of iron to oars to serve as pikes. They were a
rough and somewhat ragged throng, but Eldred saw with satisfaction that
they were a hard and sturdy set of men, accustomed to fatigue and
likely to stand firm in the hour of battle.
Most of them carried shields made of platted osiers covered with skin.
The armoury of the abbey was well supplied, and swords and axes were
distributed among the worst armed of the fenmen. Then, with but little
order or regularity, but with firm and cheerful countenances, as men
determined to win or die, the band moved off under Eldred's command,
followed by the contingent of the abbey, eighty strong, under lay
brother Toley.
A sturdy band were these monks, well fed and vigorous. They knew that
they had no mercy to expect from the Danes, and, regarding them as
pagans and enemies of their religion as well as of their country, could
be trusted to do their utmost. Late that evening they joined Algar at
the place they had appointed, and found that a large number of the
people of the marshes had gathered round his banner.
The Danes had not moved as yet from Bardenay, and Algar determined to
wait for another day or two before advancing, in order to give time to
others farther from the scene of action to arrive.
The next day came the contingents from several other priories and
abbeys, and the sight of the considerable force gathered together gave
heart and confidence to all. Algar, Eldred, and the other leaders,
Morcar, Osgot, and Harding, moved about among the host, encouraging
them with cheering words, warning them to be in no way intimidated by
the fierce appearance of the Danes, but to hold steadfast and firm in
the ranks, and to yield no foot of ground to the onslaught of the
enemy. Many priests had accompanied the contingents from the religious
houses, and these added their exhortations to those of the leaders,
telling the men that God would assuredly fight on their side against
the heathen, and bidding each man remember that defeat meant the
destruction of their churches and altars, the overthrow of their whole
religion, and the restored worship of the pagan gods.
Edmund went about among the gathering taking great interest in the wild
scene, for these marsh men differed much in their appearance from the
settled inhabitants of his father's lands. The scenes in the camp were
indeed varied in their character. Here and there were harpers with
groups of listeners gathered round, as they sung the exploits of their
fathers, and animated their hearers to fresh fire and energy by
relating legends of the cruelty of the merciless Danes. Other groups
there were surrounding the priests, who were appealing to their
religious feelings as well as to their patriotism.
Men sat about sharpening their weapons, fixing on more firmly the
handles of their shields, adjusting arrows to bowstrings, and preparing
in other ways for the coming fight. From some of the fires, round which
the marsh men were sitting, came snatches of boisterous song, while
here and there, apart from the crowd, priests were hearing confessions,
and shriving penitents.
The next morning early, one of the scouts, who had been sent to observe
the movements of the Danes, reported that these were issuing from their
camp, and advancing into the country.
Algar marshalled his host, each part under its leaders, and moved to
meet them. Near Kesteven the armies came in sight of each other, and
after advancing until but a short distance apart both halted to marshal
their ranks anew. Eldred, with the men of the marshes near Croyland and
the contingent from the abbey, had their post in the central division,
which was commanded by Algar himself, Edmund took post by his father,
and Egbert stood beside him.
Edmund had never before seen the Danes, and he could not but admit that
their appearance was enough to shake the stoutest heart. All carried
great shields covering them from head to foot. These were composed of
wood, bark, or leather painted or embossed, and in the cases of the
chiefs plated with gold and silver. So large were these that in naval
encounters, if the fear of falling into the enemy's hands forced them
to throw themselves into the sea, they could float on their shields;
and after death in battle a soldier was carried to his grave on his
buckler. As they stood facing the Saxons they locked their shields
together so as to form a barrier well-nigh impregnable against the
arrows.
All wore helmets, the common men of leather, the leaders of iron or
copper, while many in addition wore coats of mail. Each carried a
sword, a battle-axe, and a bow and arrows. Some of the swords were
short and curled like a scimitar; others were long and straight, and
were wielded with both hands. They wore their hair long and hanging
down their shoulders, and for the most part shaved their cheeks and
chins, but wore their moustaches very long.
They were, for the most, tall, lithe, and sinewy men, but physically in
no way superior to the Saxons, from whom they differed very widely in
complexion, the Saxons being fair while the Danes were very dark, as
much so as modern gypsies; indeed, the Saxon historians speak of them
as the black pagans. Upon the other hand many of the Northmen, being
Scandinavians, were as fair as the Saxons themselves.
The Danes began the battle, those in front shouting fiercely, and
striking their swords on their shields with a clashing noise, while the
ranks behind shot a shower of arrows among the Saxons. These at once
replied. The combat was not continued long at a distance, for the Danes
with a mighty shout rushed upon the Saxons. These stood their ground
firmly and a desperate conflict ensued. The Saxon chiefs vied with each
other in acts of bravery, and singling out the leaders of the Danes
engaged with them in hand-to-hand conflict.
Algar had placed his swordsmen in the front line, those armed with
spears in the second; and as the swordsmen battled with the Danes the
spearmen, when they saw a shield uplifted to guard the head, thrust
under with their weapons and slew many. Edmund, seeing that with his
sword he should have but little chance against these fierce soldiers,
fell a little behind his father and kinsman, and as these were engaged
with the enemy he from time to time, when he saw an opportunity, rushed
in and delivered a thrust with his spear at an unguarded point. The
Saxon shouts rose louder and louder as the Danes in vain endeavoured to
break through their line. The monks fought stoutly, and many a fierce
Norseman fell before their blows.
The Danes, who had not expected so firm a resistance, began to
hesitate, and Algar giving the word, the Saxons took the offensive, and
the line pressed forward step by step. The archers poured their arrows
in a storm among the Danish ranks. These fell back before the
onslaught. Already three of their kings and many of their principal
leaders had fallen, and at last, finding themselves unable to withstand
the impetuous onslaught of the Saxons, they turned and fled in
confusion towards their camp. The Saxons with exulting shouts pursued
them, and great numbers were slaughtered. The Danes had, however, as
was their custom, fortified the camp before advancing, and Algar drew
off his troops, deeming that it would be better to defer the attack on
this position until the following day.
There was high feasting in the Saxon camp that evening, but this was
brought to an abrupt conclusion by the arrival of a scout, who reported
that a great Danish army marching from the Humber was approaching the
camp of the compatriots. The news was but too true. The kings Guthorn,
Bergsecg, Oskytal, Halfdene, and Amund, and the Jarls Frene, Hingwar,
Hubba, and the two Sidrocs, with all their followers, had marched down
from Yorkshire to join the invaders who had just landed.
The news of this immense reinforcement spread consternation among the
Angles. In vain their leaders went about among them and exhorted them
to courage, promising them another victory as decisive as that they had
won that day. Their entreaties were in vain, for when the morning
dawned it was found that three-fourths of their number had left the
camp during the night, and had made off to the marshes and fastnesses.
A council of the chiefs was held. The chances of conflict appeared
hopeless, so vastly were they out-numbered by the Danes. Algar,
however, declared that he would die rather than retreat.
"If we fly now," he said, "all East Anglia will fall into the hands of
the heathen. Even should we fight and fall, the example of what a
handful of brave men can do against the invaders will surely animate
the Angles to further resistance; while if we conquer, so great a blow
will be dealt to the renown of these Danes that all England will rise
against them."
On hearing these words all the chiefs came to the determination to win
or die as they stood. Eldred took Edmund aside after this determination
had been arrived at.
"My son," he said, "I allowed you yesterday to stand by my side in
battle, and well and worthily did you bear yourself, but to-day you
must withdraw. The fight is well-nigh hopeless, and I believe that all
who take part in it are doomed to perish. I would not that my house
should altogether disappear, and shall die more cheerfully in the hope
that some day you will avenge me upon these heathen. Therefore, Edmund,
I bid you take station at a distance behind the battle, so that when
you see the day goes against us you may escape in time. I shall urge
our faithful Egbert to endeavour, when he sees that all is lost, to
make his way from the fight and rejoin you, and to journey with you to
Wessex and there present you to the king. For myself, if the battle is
lost I shall die rather than fly. Such is the resolution of Algar and
our other brave chiefs, and Eldred the ealdorman must not be the only
one of the leaders to run from the fray."
Edmund was deeply touched at his father's words, but the parental rule
was so strict in those days that it did not even enter his mind to
protest against Eldred's decision.
As the morning went on the Danes were engaged in the funeral ceremonies
of their dead kings, while the Saxons, quiet and resolute, received the
holy sacrament and prepared for the fight. Algar chose a position on
rising ground. He himself with Eldred commanded the centre, Toley and
Morcar led the right wing, Osgot and Harding the left.
Each of these wings contained about five hundred men. Algar's centre,
which was a little withdrawn from its wings, contained about 200 of his
best warriors, and was designed as a reserve, with which, if need be,
he could move to the assistance of either of the wings which might be
sorely pressed and in danger. The Saxons formed in a solid mass with
their bucklers linked together. The Danish array which issued out from
their camp was vastly superior in numbers, and was commanded by four
kings and eight jarls or earls, while two kings and four earls remained
in charge of the camp, and of the great crowd of prisoners, for the
most part women and children, whom they had brought with them.
With the Danes who had come down from Yorkshire were a large body of
horsemen, who charged furiously down upon the Saxons; but these
maintained so firm an array with their lances and spears projecting
outward that the Danes failed to break through them, and after making
repeated efforts and suffering heavy loss they drew back. Then the
Danish archers and slingers poured in a storm of missiles, but these
effected but little harm, as the Saxons stooped a little behind their
closely packed line of bucklers, which were stout enough to keep out
the shower of arrows. All day the struggle continued. Again and again
the Danes strove to break the solid Saxon array, and with sword and
battle-axe attempted to hew down the hedge of spears, but in vain. At
last their leaders, convinced that they could not overcome the
obstinacy of the resistance, ordered their followers to feign a retreat.
As the Danes turned to fly the Saxons set up a triumphant shout, and
breaking up their solid phalanx rushed after them in complete disorder.
In vain Algar, Osgot, Toley, Eldred, and the other leaders shouted to
them to stand firm. Weary of their long inactivity, and convinced that
the Danes were routed, the Saxons pursued them across the plain.
Suddenly the Danish horse, who after failing to break through the ranks
had remained apart at a short distance from the conflict, dashed down
upon the disordered Saxons, while the flying infantry turning round
also fell upon them with exulting shouts.
Taken wholly by surprise, confused and disordered, the Saxons could
offer no effectual opposition to the charge. The Danish horse rode
among them hewing and slaying, and the swords and battle-axes of the
footmen completed the work. In a few minutes of all the Saxon band
which had for so many hours successfully resisted the onslaught of the
Danes, not one survived save a few fleet-footed young men who, throwing
away their arms, succeeded in making their escape, and a little group,
consisting of Algar, Toley, Eldred, and the other leaders who had
gathered together when their men broke their ranks and had taken up
their position on a knoll of ground rising above the plain. Here for a
long time they resisted the efforts of the whole of the Danes,
surrounding themselves with a heap of slain; but at length one by one
they succumbed to the Danish onslaught, each fighting valiantly to the
last.
From his position at a distance Edmund watched the last desperate
struggle. With streaming eyes and a heart torn by anxiety for his
father he could see the Danish foe swarming round the little band who
defended the crest. These were lost from his sight, and only the
flashing of swords showed where the struggle was still going on in the
centre of the confused mass. Edmund had been on his knees for some
time, but he now rose.
"Come, old boy," he said to the hound, who lay beside him watching the
distant conflict and occasionally uttering deep angry growls. "I must
obey my father's last command; let us away."
He took one more glance at the distant conflict before turning. It was
plain that it was nearly finished. The swords had well-nigh ceased to
rise and fall when he saw a sudden movement in the throng of Danes and
suddenly a man burst out from them and started at headlong speed
towards him, pursued by a number of Danes. Even at that distance Edmund
thought that he recognized the tall figure of his kinsman, but he had
no time to assure himself of this, and he at once, accompanied by the
hound, set off at the top of his speed from the field of battle. He had
fully a quarter of a mile start, and being active and hardy and
accustomed to exercise from his childhood, he had no fear that the
Danes would overtake him. Still he ran his hardest.
Looking over his shoulder from time to time he saw that at first the
Danes who were pursuing the fugitive were gaining upon him also, but
after a time he again increased the distance, while, being unencumbered
with shield or heavy weapons, the fugitive kept the advantage he had at
first gained. Three miles from the battle-field Edmund reached the edge
of a wide-spreading wood. Looking round as he entered its shelter he
saw that the flying Saxon was still about a quarter of a mile behind
him, and that the Danes, despairing of over-taking him, had ceased
their pursuit. Edmund therefore checked his footsteps and awaited the
arrival of the fugitive, who he now felt certain was his kinsman.
In a few minutes Egbert came up, having slackened his speed
considerably when he saw that he was no longer pursued. He was bleeding
from several wounds, and now that the necessity for exertion had passed
he walked but feebly along. Without a word he flung himself on the
ground by Edmund and buried his face in his arms, and the lad could see
by the shaking of his broad shoulders that he was weeping bitterly. The
great hound walked up to the prostrate figure and gave vent to a long
and piteous howl, and then lying down by Egbert's side placed his head
on his shoulder.
CHAPTER III: THE MASSACRE AT CROYLAND
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.
CHAPTER IV: THE INVASION OF WESSEX
Edmund and Egbert devoted most of their time to the building of the new
fort, living very simply, and expended the whole of the revenues of the
lands on the payment of the freemen and masons engaged upon the work.
The Roman fort was a parallelogram, the sides being about 200 yards
long, and the ends half that length. It was surrounded by two earthen
banks with wide ditches. These were deepened considerably, and the
slopes were cut down more sharply. The inner bank was widened until it
was 15 feet across the top.
On this the wall was built. It was faced on both sides with square
stones, the space between filled up with rubble and cement, the total
thickness being 4 feet. The height of the wall was 8 feet, and at
intervals of 30 yards apart towers were raised 10 feet above it, one of
these being placed at either side of the entrance. Here the bank was
cut away, and solid buttresses of masonry supported the high gates. The
opening in the outer bank was not opposite to the gate in the inner,
being fifty yards away, so that any who entered by it would have for
that distance to follow the ditch between the two banks, exposed to the
missiles of those on the wall before arriving at the inner gate.
Five hundred men laboured incessantly at the work. The stone for the
walls was fortunately found close at hand, but, notwithstanding this,
the work took nearly six months to execute; deep wells were sunk in the
centre of the fort, and by this means an ample supply of water was
secured, however large might be the number within it.
A very short time after the commencement of the work the news arrived
that King Edmund of East Anglia had gathered his forces together and
had met the Danes in a great battle near Thetford on Sunday the 20th of
November, and had been totally defeated by them, Edmund himself having
been taken prisoner. The captive king, after having been for a long
time cruelly tortured by the Danes, was shot to death with arrows. It
was not long after this that news came that the whole of East Anglia
had fallen into the hands of the Danes.
Early in the month of February, 871, just as the walls of his fort had
begun to rise, a messenger arrived from the king bidding Edmund
assemble all the men in his earlship and march at once to join him near
Devizes, as the news had come that a great Danish fleet had sailed up
the Thames and had already captured the royal town of Reading.
Messengers were sent out in all directions, and early the next morning,
400 men having assembled, Edmund and his kinsman marched away with them
towards Devizes. Upon their arrival at that town they found the king
and his brother with 8000 men, and the following day the army moved
east towards Reading.
They had not marched many miles before a messenger arrived saying that
two of the Danish jarls with a great following had gone out to plunder
the country, that they had been encountered by Aethelwulf, Earl of
Berkshire, with his men at Englefield, and a fierce battle had taken
place. The Saxons had gained the victory, and great numbers of the
Danes had been slain, Sidroc, one of their jarls, being among the
fallen.
Three days later the royal army arrived in sight of Reading, being
joined on their march by Aethelwulf and his men. The Danes had thrown
up a great rampart between the Thames and the Kennet, and many were
still at work on this fortification. These were speedily slain by the
Saxons, but their success was a short one. The main body of the
invaders swarmed out from the city and a desperate engagement took
place.
The Saxons fought valiantly, led by the king and Prince Alfred; but
being wholly undisciplined and unaccustomed to war they were unable to
withstand the onslaught of the Danes, who fought in better order,
keeping together in ranks: after four hours' hard fighting the Saxons
were compelled to fall back.
They rallied again a few miles from Reading. Ethelred and Alfred went
among them bidding them be of good cheer, for that another time, when
they fought in better order, they would gain the victory; and that
their loss had not been greater than the Danes, only that unhappily the
valiant Ealdorman Aethelwulf had been slain. Fresh messengers were sent
throughout the country bidding all the men of Wessex to rally round
their king, and on the fourth morning after the defeat Ethelred found
himself at the head of larger forces than had fought with him in the
last battle.
The Danes had moved out from Reading and had taken post at Ashdown, and
as the Saxon army approached they were seen to be divided into two
bodies, one of which was commanded by their two kings and the other by
two jarls. The Saxons therefore made a similar division of their army,
the king commanding one division and Prince Alfred the other.
Edmund with the men of Sherborne was in the division of Alfred. The
Danes advanced to the attack and fell with fury upon them. It had been
arranged that this division should not advance to the attack until that
commanded by the king was also put in motion. For some time Alfred and
his men supported the assaults of the Danes, and then, being hardly
pressed, the prince sent a messenger to his brother to urge that a
movement should be made. The Saxons were impatient at standing on the
defensive, and Alfred saw that he must either allow them to charge the
enemy or must retreat.
Presently the messenger returned saying that the king was in his tent
hearing mass, and that he had given orders that no man should move or
any should disturb him until mass was concluded. Alfred hesitated no
longer; he formed his men into a solid body, and then, raising his
battle cry, rushed upon the Danes. The battle was a furious one. The
Danes were upon higher ground, their standard being planted by the side
of a single thorn-tree which grew on the slopes of the hill. Towards
this Alfred with his men fought their way.
The lesson of the previous battle had not been lost, the Saxons kept
together in a solid body which made its way with irresistible weight
through the ranks of the Danes. Still the latter closed in on all
sides, and the fight was doubtful until the king, having finished his
devotions, led his division into the battle. For a long time a
desperate strife continued and great numbers on both sides were killed;
but the Saxons, animated at once by love of their country and hatred of
the invaders and by humiliation at their previous defeat, fought with
such fury that the Danes began to give way. Then the Saxons pressed
them still more hotly, and the invaders presently lost heart and fled
in confusion, pursued in all directions by the exulting Saxons.
The Danish king Bergsecg and five jarls, the two Sidrocs, Osbearn,
Frene, and Hareld, were slain, and many thousands of their followers.
Great spoil of arms and armour fell into the hands of the victors.
Edmund had fought bravely in the battle at the head of his men. Egbert
had kept beside him, and twice, when the lad had been smitten to his
knees by the enemy, covered him with his shield and beat off the foe.
"You are over-young for such a fight as this, Edmund," he said when the
Danes had taken to flight. "You will need another four or five years
over your head before you can stand in battle against these fierce
Northmen. They break down your guard by sheer weight; but you bore
yourself gallantly, and I doubt not will yet be as famous a warrior as
was your brave father."
Edmund did not join in the pursuit, being too much bruised and
exhausted to do so; but Egbert with the men of Sherborne followed the
flying Danes until nightfall.
"You have done well, my young ealdorman," Prince Alfred said to the lad
after the battle. "I have been wishing much that you could be with me
during the past month, but I heard that you were building a strong fort
and deemed it better to let you continue your work undisturbed. When it
is finished I trust that I shall have you often near me; but I fear
that for a time we shall have but little space for peaceful pursuits,
for the Danes are coming, as I hear, in great troops westward, and we
shall have many battles to fight ere we clear the land of them."
In those days a defeat, however severe, had not the same decisive
effect as it has in modern warfare. There were no cannons to lose, no
great stores to fall into the hands of the victors. The army was simply
dispersed, and its component parts reassembled in the course of a day
or two, ready, when reinforcements arrived, to renew the fight. Thus,
decisive as was the victory of Ashdown, Prince Alfred saw that many
such victories must be won, and a prolonged and exhausting struggle
carried on before the tide of invasion would be finally hurled back
from Wessex. The next few days were spent in making a fair distribution
of the spoil and arms among the conquerors. Some of the thanes then
returned home with their people; but the remainder, on the king's
entreaty, agreed to march with him against the Danes, who after the
battle had fallen back to Basing, where they had been joined by others
coming from the coast. The royal army advanced against them, and
fourteen days after the battle of Ashdown the struggle was renewed. The
fight lasted for many hours, but towards nightfall the Saxons were
compelled to retreat, moving off the field, however, in good order, so
that no spoil fell into the hands of the Danes.
This check was a great disappointment to the Saxons, who after their
late victory had hoped that they should speedily clear the kingdom of
the Danes. These, indeed, taught prudence by the manner in which the
West Saxons had fought, for a while refrained from plundering
excursions. Two months later the Saxons were again called to arms.
Somerled, a Danish chieftain, had again advanced to Reading, and had
captured and burned the town. The king marched against him, and the two
armies met at Merton. Here another desperate battle took place.
During the first part of the day the Saxons were victorious over both
the divisions of the Danish army, but in the afternoon the latter
received some reinforcements and renewed the fight. The Saxons,
believing that the victory had been won, had fallen into disorder and
were finally driven from the field. Great numbers were slain on both
sides. Bishop Edmund and many Saxon nobles were killed, and King
Ethelred so severely wounded that he expired a few days later, April
23rd, 871, having reigned for five years. He was buried at Wimbourne
Minster, and Prince Alfred ascended the throne.
Ethelred was much regretted by his people, but the accession of Alfred
increased their hopes of battling successfully against the Danes.
Although wise and brave, King Ethelred had been scarcely the monarch
for a warlike people in troubled times. Religious exercises occupied
too large a share of his thoughts. His rule was kindly rather than
strong, and his authority was but weak over his nobles. From Prince
Alfred the Saxons hoped better things. From his boyhood he had been
regarded with special interest and affection by the people, as his
father had led them to regard him as their future king.
The fact that he had been personally consecrated by the pope appeared
to invest him with a special authority. His immense superiority in
learning over all his people greatly impressed them. Though gentle he
was firm and resolute, prompt in action, daring in the field. Thus,
then, although the people regretted King Ethelred, there was a general
feeling of hope and joy when Alfred took his place on the throne. He
had succeeded to the crown but a month when the Danes again advanced in
great numbers. The want of success which had attended them in the last
two battles had damped the spirit of the people, and it was with a very
small force only that Alfred was able to advance against them.
The armies met near Wilton, where the Danes in vastly superior numbers
were posted on a hill. King Alfred led his forces forward and fell upon
the Danes, and so bravely did the Saxons fight that for some time the
day went favourably for them. Gradually the Danes were driven from
their post of vantage, and after some hours' fighting turned to fly;
but, as at Merton and Kesteven, the impetuosity of the Saxons proved
their ruin. Breaking their compact ranks they scattered in pursuit of
the Danes, and these, seeing how small was the number of their
pursuers, rallied and turned upon them, and the Saxons were driven from
the field which they had so bravely won.
"Unless my brave Saxons learn order and discipline," the king said to
Edmund and some of his nobles who gathered round him on the evening
after the defeat, "our cause is assuredly lost. We have proved now in
each battle that we are superior man to man to the Danes, but we throw
away the fruits of victory by our impetuosity. The great Caesar, who
wrote an account of his battles which I have read in Latin, described
the order and discipline with which the Roman troops fought. They were
always in heavy masses, and even after a battle the heavy-armed
soldiers kept their ranks and did not scatter in pursuit of the enemy,
leaving this task to the more lightly armed troops.
"Would that we had three or four years before us to teach our men
discipline and order, but alas! there is no time for this. The Danes
have fallen in great numbers in every fight, but they are ever
receiving reinforcements and come on in fresh waves of invasion; while
the Saxons, finding that all their efforts and valour seem to avail
nothing, are beginning fast to lose heart. See how small a number
assembled round my standard yesterday, and yet the war is but
beginning. Truly the look-out is bad for England."
The king made strenuous efforts again to raise an army, but the people
did not respond to his call. In addition to the battles which have been
spoken of several others had been fought in different parts of Wessex
by the ealdormen and their followers against bodies of invading Danes.
In the space of one year the Saxons had engaged in eight pitched
battles and in many skirmishes. Great numbers had been slain on both
sides, but the Danes ever received fresh accessions of strength, and
seemed to grow stronger and more numerous after every battle, while the
Saxons were dwindling rapidly. Wide tracts of country had been
devastated, the men slaughtered, and the women and children taken
captives, and the people, utterly dispirited and depressed, no longer
listened to the voices of their leaders, and refused again to peril
their lives in a strife which seemed hopeless. Alfred therefore called
his ealdormen together and proposed to them, that since the people
would no longer fight, the sole means that remained to escape
destruction was to offer to buy off the Danes.
The proposal was agreed to, for although none of them had any hope that
the Danes would long keep any treaty they might make, yet even a little
respite might give heart and spirit to the Saxons again. Accordingly
negotiations were entered into with the Danes, and these, in
consideration of a large money payment, agreed to retire from Wessex.
The money was paid, the Danes retired from Reading, which they had used
as their headquarters, and marched to London. King Burhred, the feeble
King of Mercia, could do nothing to oppose them, and he too agreed to
pay them a large annual tribute.
From the end of 872 till the autumn of 875 the country was
comparatively quiet. Alfred ruled it wisely, and tried to repair the
terrible damages the war had made. Edmund looked after his earldom, and
grew into a powerful young man of nineteen years old.
King Alfred had not deceived himself for a moment as to the future.
"The Danes," he said, "are still in England. East Anglia and
Northumbria swarm with them. Had this army, after being bought off by
us and my brother of Mercia, sailed across the seas and landed in
France there would have been some hope for us, but their restless
nature will not allow them to stay long in the parts which they have
conquered.
"In Anglia King Guthrum has divided the land among his jarls, and there
they seem disposed to settle down; but elsewhere they care not for the
land, preferring to leave it in the hands of its former owners to till,
and after to wring from the cultivators the fruits of the harvest;
then, as the country becomes thoroughly impoverished, they must move
elsewhere. Mercia they can overrun whensoever they choose, and after
that there is nothing for them to do but to sweep down again upon
Wessex, and with all the rest of England at their feet it is hopeless
to think that we alone can withstand their united power."
"Then what, think you, must be the end of this?" Edmund asked.
"'Tis difficult to see the end," Alfred replied. "It would seem that
our only hope of release from them is that when they have utterly eaten
up and ravaged England they may turn their thoughts elsewhere. Already
they are harrying the northern coasts of France, but there are richer
prizes on the Mediterranean shores, and it may be that when England is
no longer worth plundering they may sail away to Spain and Italy. We
have acted foolishly in the way we have fought them. When they first
began to arrive upon our coasts we should have laboured hard to build
great fleets, so that we could go forth and meet them on the seas.
"Some, indeed, might have escaped our watch and landed, but the fleets
could have cut off reinforcements coming to them, and thus those who
reached our shores could have been overwhelmed. Even now, I think that
something might be done that way, and I purpose to build a fleet which
may, when they again invade us, take its station near the mouth of the
Thames and fall upon the vessels bringing stores and reinforcements.
This would give much encouragement to the people, whose hopelessness
and desperation are caused principally by the fact that it seems to be
of no use killing the enemy, since so many are ready constantly to take
their places."
"I will gladly undertake to build one ship," Edmund said. "The fort is
now finished, and with the revenues of the land I could at once
commence a ship; and if the Danes give us time, when she is finished I
would build another. I will the more gladly do it, since it seems to me
that if the Danes entirely overrun our country we must take to the sea
and so in turn become plunderers. With this view I will have the ship
built large and strong, so that she may keep the sea in all weathers
and be my home if I am driven out of England. There must be plenty of
ports in France, and many a quiet nook and inlet round England, where
one can put in to refit when necessary, and we could pick up many a
prize of Danish ships returning laden with booty. With such a ship I
could carry a strong crew, and with my trusty Egbert and the best of my
fighting men we should be able to hold our own, even if attacked by two
or three of the Danish galleys."
"The idea is a good one, Edmund," the king said, "and I would that I
myself could carry it into effect. It were a thousand times better to
live a free life on the sea, even if certain at last to be overpowered
by a Danish fleet, than to lurk a hunted fugitive in the woods; but I
cannot do it. So long as I live I must remain among my people, ready to
snatch any chance that may offer of striking a blow against the
invader. But for you it is different."
"I should not, of course, do it," Edmund said, "until all is lost here,
and mean to defend my fort to an extremity; still should it be that the
Danes conquer all our lands, it were well to have such a refuge."
Edmund talked the matter over with Egbert, who warmly entered into the
plan. "So long as I have life I will fight against the Danes, and in a
ship at least we can fight manfully till the end. We must not build her
on the sea-coast, or before the time when we need her she may be
destroyed by the Danes. We will build her on the Parrot. The water is
deep enough far up from the sea to float her when empty, and if we
choose some spot where the river runs among woods we might hide her so
that she may to the last escape the attention of the Danes.
"We must get some men crafty in ship-building from one of the ports,
sending down a body of our own serfs to do the rough work. We will go
to Exeter first and there choose us the craftsman most skilled in
building ships, and will take council with him as to the best form and
size. She must be good to sail and yet able to row fast with a strong
crew, and she must have room to house a goodly number of rowing and
fighting men. You, Edmund, might, before we start, consult King Alfred.
He must have seen at Rome and other ports on the Mediterranean the
ships in use there, which are doubtless far in advance of our own. For
we know from the Holy Bible that a thousand years ago St. Paul made
long voyages in ships, and doubtless they have learned much since those
days."
Edmund thought the idea a good one, and asked the king to make him a
drawing of the vessels in use in the Mediterranean. This King Alfred
readily did, and Egbert and Edmund then journeyed to Exeter, where
finding out the man most noted for his skill in building ships, they
told him the object they had in view, and showed him the drawings the
king had made. There were two of them, the one a long galley rowed with
double banks of oars, the other a heavy trading ship.
"This would be useless to you," the shipwright said, laying the second
drawing aside. "It would not be fast enough either to overtake or to
fly. The other galley would, methinks, suit you well. I have seen a
drawing of such a ship before. It is a war galley such as is used by
the Genoese in their fights against the African pirates. They are fast
and roomy, and have plenty of accommodation for the crews. One of them
well manned and handled should be a match for six at least of the
Danish galleys, which are much lower in the water and smaller in all
ways. But it will cost a good deal of money to build such a ship."
"I will devote all the revenues of my land to it until it is finished,"
Edmund said. "I will place a hundred serfs at your service, and will
leave it to you to hire as many craftsmen as may be needed. I intend to
build her in a quiet place in a deep wood on the river Parrot, so that
she may escape the eyes of the Danes."
"I shall require seasoned timber," the shipwright urged.
"That will I buy," Edmund replied, "as you shall direct, and can have
it brought up the river to the spot."
"Being so large and heavy," the shipwright said, "she will be difficult
to launch. Methinks it were best to dig a hole or dock at some little
distance from the river; then when she is finished a way can be cut to
the river wide enough for her to pass out. When the water is turned in
it will float her up level to the surface, and as she will not draw
more than two feet of water the cut need not be more than three feet
deep."
"That will be the best plan by far," Edmund agreed, "for you can make
the hole so deep that you can build her entirely below the level of the
ground. Then we can, if needs be, fill up the hole altogether with
bushes, and cover her up, so that she would not be seen by a Danish
galley rowing up the river, or even by any of the enemy who might enter
the wood, unless they made special search for her; and there she could
lie until I chose to embark."
The shipwright at once set to work to draw out his plans, and a week
later sent to Edmund a messenger with an account of the quantity and
size of wood he should require. This was purchased at once. Edmund and
Egbert with their serfs journeyed to the spot they had chosen, and were
met there by the shipwright, who brought with him twenty craftsmen from
Exeter. The wood was brought up the river, and while the craftsmen
began to cut it up into fitting sizes, the serfs applied themselves to
dig the deep dock in which the vessel was to be built.
CHAPTER V: A DISCIPLINED BAND
The construction of the ship went on steadily. King Alfred, who was
himself building several war vessels of ordinary size, took great
interest in Edmund's craft and paid several visits to it while it was
in progress.
"It will be a fine ship," he said one day as the vessel was approaching
completion, "and much larger than any in these seas. It reminds me,
Edmund, not indeed in size or shape, but in its purpose, of the ark
which Noah built before the deluge which covered the whole earth. He
built it, as you know, to escape with his family from destruction. You,
too, are building against the time when the deluge of Danish invasion
will sweep over this land, and I trust that your success will equal
that of the patriarch."
"I shall be better off than Noah was," Edmund said, "for he had nothing
to do, save to shut up his windows and wait till the floods abated,
while I shall go out and seek my enemies on the sea."
The respite purchased by the king from the Danes was but a short one.
In the autumn of 875 their bands were again swarming around the borders
of Wessex, and constant irruptions took place. Edmund received a
summons to gather his tenants, but he found that these no longer
replied willingly to the call. Several of his chief men met him and
represented to him the general feeling which prevailed.
"The men say," their spokesman explained, "that it is useless to fight
against the Danes. In 872 there were ten pitched battles, and vast
numbers of the Danes were slain, and vast numbers also of Saxons. The
Danes are already far more numerous than before, for fresh hordes
continue to arrive on the shores, and more than fill up the places of
those who are killed; but the places of the Saxons are empty, and our
fighting force is far smaller than it was last year. If we again go out
and again fight many battles, even if we are victorious, which we can
hardly hope to be, the same thing will happen. Many thousands will be
slain, and the following year we shall in vain try to put an army in
the field which can match that of the Danes, who will again have filled
up their ranks, and be as numerous as ever. So long as we continue to
fight, so long the Danes will slay, burn, and destroy wheresoever they
march, until there will remain of us but a few fugitives hidden in the
woods. We should be far better off did we cease to resist, and the
Danes become our masters, as they have become the masters of
Northumbria, Mercia, and Anglia.
"There, it is true, they have plundered the churches and thanes' houses
and have stolen all that is worth carrying away; but when they have
taken all that there is to take they leave the people alone, and
unmolested, to till the ground and to gain their livelihood. They do
not slay for the pleasure of slaying, and grievous as is the condition
of the Angles they and their wives and children are free from massacre
and are allowed to gain their livings. The West Saxons have showed that
they are no cowards; they have defeated the Northmen over and over
again when far outnumbering them. It is no dishonour to yield now when
all the rest of England has yielded, and when further fighting will
only bring ruin upon ourselves, our wives, and children."
Edmund could find no reply to this argument. He knew that even the king
despaired of ultimately resisting the Danish invasion, and after
listening to all that the thanes had to say he retired with Egbert
apart.
"What say you, Egbert? There is reason in the arguments that they use.
You and I have neither wives nor children, and we risk only our own
lives; but I can well understand that those who have so much to lose
are chary of further effort. What say you?"
"I do not think it will be fair to press them further," Egbert
answered; "but methinks that we might raise a band consisting of all
the youths and unmarried men in the earldom. These we might train
carefully and keep always together, seeing that the lands will still be
cultivated and all able to pay their assessment, and may even add to
it, since you exempt them from service. Such a band we could train and
practise until we could rely upon them to defeat a far larger force of
the enemy, and they would be available for our crew when we take to the
ship."
"I think the idea is a very good one, Egbert; we will propose it to the
thanes." The proposition was accordingly made that all married men
should be exempt from service, but that the youths above the age of
sixteen and the unmarried men should be formed into a band and kept
permanently under arms. Landowners who lost the services of sons or
freemen working for them should pay the same assessment only as before,
but those who did not contribute men to the levy should pay an
additional assessment. Edmund said he would pay the men composing the
band the same wages they would earn in the field, and would undertake
all their expenses. "So long as the king continues the struggle," he
said, "it is our duty to aid him, nor can we escape from the dangers
and perils of invasion. Should the Danes come near us all must perforce
fight, but so long as they continue at a distance things can go on here
as if we had peace in the land."
The proposal was, after some discussion, agreed to, and the news caused
gladness and contentment throughout the earldom. The younger men who
had been included in the levy were quite satisfied with the
arrangement. The spirit of the West Saxons was still high, and those
without wives and families who would suffer by their absence or be
ruined by their death were eager to continue the contest. The proposal
that they should be paid as when at work was considered perfectly
satisfactory.
The men of Sherborne had under their young leader gained great credit
by their steadiness and valour in the battles four years before, and
they looked forward to fresh victories over the invader. The result was
that ninety young men assembled for service. Edmund had sent off a
messenger to the king saying that the people were utterly weary of war
and refused to take up arms, but that he was gathering a band of young
men with whom he would ere long join him; but he prayed for a short
delay in order that he might get them into a condition to be useful on
the day of battle.
After consultation with Egbert, Edmund drew up a series of orders
somewhat resembling those of modern drill. King Alfred had once, in
speaking to him, described the manner in which the Thebans, a people of
Northern Greece, had fought, placing their troops in the form of a
wedge. The formation he now taught his men. From morning to night they
were practised at rallying from pursuit or flight, or changing from a
line into the form of a wedge. Each man had his appointed place both in
the line and wedge. Those who formed the outside line of this formation
were armed with large shields which covered them from chin to foot, and
with short spears; those in the inner lines carried no shields, but
bore spears of increasing length, so that four lines of spears
projected from the wedge to nearly the same distance. Inside the four
lines were twenty men armed with shields, bows, and arrows. The sides
of the wedge were of equal length, so that they could march either way.
Egbert's place was at the apex of the wedge intended generally for
attack. He carried no spear, nor did those at the other corners, as
they would be covered by those beside and behind them; he was armed
with a huge battle-axe. The other leaders were also chosen for great
personal strength. Edmund's place was on horseback in the middle of the
wedge, whence he could overlook the whole and direct their movements.
In three weeks the men could perform their simple movements to
perfection, and at a sound from Edmund's horn would run in as when
scattered in pursuit or flight, or could form from line into the wedge,
without the least confusion, every man occupying his assigned place.
The men were delighted with their new exercises, and felt confident
that the weight of the solid mass thickly bristling with spears would
break through the Danish line without difficulty, or could draw off
from the field in perfect order and safety in case of a defeat, however
numerous their foes. The two front lines were to thrust with their
pikes, the others keeping their long spears immovable to form a solid
hedge. Each man carried a short heavy sword to use in case, by any
fatality, the wedge should get broken up.
When assured that his band were perfect in their new exercise Edmund
marched and joined the king. He found on his arrival that the summons
to arms had been everywhere disregarded. Many men had indeed come in,
but these were in no way sufficient to form a force which would enable
him to take the field against the Danes.
Edmund therefore solicited and obtained permission to march with his
band to endeavour to check the plundering bands of Danes, who were
already committing devastations throughout the country.
"Be not rash, Edmund," the monarch said, "you have but a handful of
men, and I should grieve indeed did aught of harm befall you. If you
can fall upon small parties of plunderers and destroy them you will do
good service, not only by compelling them to keep together but by
raising the spirits of the Saxons; but avoid conflict with parties
likely to defeat you."
"You shall hear of us soon, I promise you," Edmund replied, "and I
trust that the news will be good."
The little party set out towards the border, and before long met
numbers of fugitives, weeping women carrying children, old men and
boys, making their way from the neighbourhood of the Danes. The men had
for the most part driven their herds into the woods, where they were
prepared to defend them as best they could against roving parties. They
learned that Haffa, a Danish jarl, with about 600 followers, was
plundering and ravaging the country about twelve miles away. The force
was a formidable one, but after consultation with Egbert, Edmund
determined to advance, deeming that he might find the Danes scattered
and cut off some of their parties.
As they neared the country of which the Danes were in possession the
smoke of burning villages and homesteads was seen rising heavily in the
air. Edmund halted for the night in a wood about a mile distant from a
blazing farm, and the band lay down for some hours.
Before daybreak three or four of the swiftest-footed of the men were
sent out to reconnoitre. They learned, from badly wounded men whom they
found lying near the burning farms, that the Danes had been plundering
in parties of twenty or thirty, but that the main body under Haffa lay
five miles away at the village of Bristowe.
A consultation was held, and it was agreed that the party should remain
hidden in the wood during the day, and that upon the following night
they should fall upon the Danes, trusting to the surprise to inflict
much damage upon them, and to be able to draw off before the enemy
could recover sufficiently to rally and attack them.
Accordingly about nine o'clock in the evening they started, and
marching rapidly approached Bristowe an hour and a half later. They
could see great fires blazing, and round them the Danes were carousing
after their forays of the day. Great numbers of cattle were penned up
near the village.
Edmund and Egbert having halted their men stole forward until close to
the village in order to learn the nature of the ground and the position
of the Danes. Upon their return they waited until the fires burned low
and the sound of shouting and singing decreased. It was useless to wait
longer, for they knew that many of the Danes would, according to their
custom, keep up their revelry all night. Crawling along the ground the
band made for the great pen where were herded the cattle which the
Danes had driven in from the surrounding country, and over which
several guards had been placed. Before starting Egbert assigned to each
man the special duties which he was to fulfil.
The Saxons crept up quite close to the Danish guards unobserved. To
each of these three or four bowmen had been told off, and they, on
nearing the sentries lay prone on the ground with bows bent and arrows
fixed until a whistle from Edmund gave the signal. Then the arrows were
loosed, and the distance being so short the Danish sentries were all
slain. Then a party of men removed the side of the pen facing the
village; the rest mingled with the cattle, and soon with the points of
their spears goaded them into flight. In a mass the herd thundered down
upon the village, the Saxons keeping closely behind them and adding to
their terror by goading the hindermost.
The Danes, astonished at the sudden thunder of hoofs bearing down upon
them, leaped to their feet and endeavoured to turn the course of the
herd, which they deemed to have accidentally broken loose, by loud
shouts and by rattling their swords against their shields. The oxen,
however, were too terrified by those in their rear to check their
course, and charged impetuously down upon the Danes.
Numbers of these were hurled to the ground and trampled under foot, and
the wildest confusion reigned in the camp. This was increased when, as
the herds swept along, a number of active men with spear and sword fell
suddenly upon them. Scores were cut down or run through before they
could prepare for defence, or recover from their surprise at the novel
method of attack.
At last, as the thunder of the herd died away in the distance, and they
became aware of the comparative fewness of their foes, they began to
rally and make head against their assailants. No sooner was this the
case than the note of a horn was heard, and as if by magic their
assailants instantly darted away into the night, leaving the
superstitious Danes in some doubt whether the whole attack upon them
had not been of a supernatural nature.
Long before they recovered themselves, and were ready for pursuit, the
Saxons were far away, no less than 200 of the Danes having been slain
or trampled to death, while of Edmund's band not one had received so
much as a wound.
The Saxons regained the wood in the highest state of exultation at
their success, and more confident than before in themselves and their
leader.
"I am convinced," Edmund said, "that this is the true way to fight the
Danes, to harry and attack them by night assaults until they dare not
break up into parties, and become so worn out by constant alarms that
they will be glad to leave a country where plunder and booty are only
to be earned at so great a cost."
Knowing that Haffa's band would for some time be thoroughly on the
alert Edmund moved his party to another portion of the country, where
he inflicted a blow, almost as heavy as he had dealt Haffa, upon
Sigbert, another of the Danish jarls. Three or four more very
successful night attacks were made, and then the Danes, by this time
thoroughly alarmed, obtained from some Saxon country people whom they
took prisoners news as to the strength of Edmund's band.
Furious at the heavy losses which had been inflicted upon them by so
small a number, they determined to unite in crushing them. By threats
of instant death, and by the offers of a high reward, they succeeded in
persuading two Saxon prisoners to act as spies, and one day these
brought in to Haffa the news that the band had that morning, after
striking a successful blow at the Danes ten miles away, entered at
daybreak a wood but three miles from his camp.
The Northman, disdaining to ask for assistance from one of the other
bands against so small a foe, moved out at once with 300 of his men
towards the wood. The Saxons had posted guards, who on the approach of
the Danes roused Edmund with the news that the enemy were close at
hand. The Saxons were soon on their feet.
"Now, my friends," Edmund said to them, "here is the time for trying
what benefit we have got from our exercise. We cannot well draw off,
for the Danes are as fleet-footed as we; therefore let us fight and
conquer them."
The men formed up cheerfully, and the little body moved out from the
wood to meet the Danes. The latter gave a shout of triumph as they saw
them. The Saxon force, from its compact formation, appeared even
smaller than it was, and the Norsemen advanced in haste, each eager to
be the first to fall upon an enemy whom they regarded as an easy prey.
As they arrived upon the spot, however, and saw the thick hedge of
spears which bristled round the little body of Saxons, the first comers
checked their speed and waited till Haffa himself came up, accompanied
by his principal warriors.
Without a moment's hesitation the jarl flung himself upon the Saxons.
In vain, however, he tried to reach them with his long sword. As he
neared them the front line of the Saxons dropped on one knee, and as
the Danes with their shields dashed against the spears and strove to
cut through them, the kneeling men were able with their pikes to thrust
at the unguarded portions of the bodies below their shields, and many
fell grievously wounded. After trying for some time in vain, Haffa,
finding that individual effort did not suffice to break through the
Saxon spears, formed his men up in line four deep, and advanced in a
solid body so as to overwhelm them.
The Saxons now rose to their feet. The spears, instead of being pointed
outwards, were inclined towards the front, and the wedge advanced
against the Danes. The Saxon war cry rose loud as they neared the
Danish line, and then, still maintaining their close formation, they
charged upon it. The assault was irresistible. The whole weight was
thrown upon a point, and preceded, as it was, by the densely-packed
spears, it burst through the Danish line as if the latter had been
composed of osier twigs, bearing down all in its way.
With shouts of surprise the Danes broke up their line and closed in a
thick mass round the Saxons, those behind pressing forward and impeding
the motions of the warriors actually engaged. The Saxons no longer kept
stationary. In obedience to Edmund's orders the triangle advanced,
sometimes with one angle in front, sometimes with another, but
whichever way it moved sweeping away the Danes opposed to it, while the
archers from the centre shot fast and strong into the mass of the enemy.
Haffa himself, trying to oppose the advance of the wedge, was slain by
a blow of Egbert's axe, and after half an hour's fierce fighting, the
Danes, having lost upwards of fifty of their best men, and finding all
their efforts to produce an impression upon the Saxons vain, desisted
from the attack and fled.
At once the wedge broke up, and the Saxons followed in hot pursuit,
cutting down their flying enemies. Obedient, however, to Edmund's
repeated shouts they kept fairly together, and when the Danes, thinking
them broken and disordered, turned to fall upon them, a single note of
the horn brought them instantly together again, and the astonished
Danes saw the phalanx which had proved so fatal to them prepared to
receive their attack. This they did not attempt to deliver, but took to
flight, the Saxons, as before, pursuing, and twice as many of the Danes
were slain in the retreat as in the first attack.
The pursuit was continued for many miles, and then, fearing that he
might come across some fresh body of the enemy, Edmund called off his
men. Great was the triumph of the Saxons. A few of them had suffered
from wounds more or less serious, but not one had fallen. They had
defeated a body of Danes four times their own force, and had killed
nearly half of them, and they felt confident that the tactics which
they had adopted would enable them in future to defeat any scattered
bodies of Danes they might meet.
For a week after the battle they rested, spending their time in further
improving themselves in their drill, practicing especially the
alterations of the position of the spears requisite when changing from
a defensive attitude, with the pikes at right angles to each face, to
that of an attack, when the spears of both faces of the advancing wedge
were all directed forward. A messenger arrived from the king, to whom
Edmund had sent the news of his various successes, and Alfred sent his
warmest congratulations and thanks for the great results which had been
gained with so small a force, the king confessing that he was unable to
understand how with such disproportionate numbers Edmund could so
totally have routed the force of so distinguished a leader as Haffa.
For some weeks Edmund continued the work of checking the depredations
of the Danes, and so successful was he that the freebooters became
seized with a superstitious awe of his band. The rapidity of its
maneuvering, the manner in which men, at one moment scattered, were in
another formed in a serried mass, against which all their efforts broke
as waves against a rock, seemed to them to be something superhuman. In
that part of Wessex, therefore, the invaders gradually withdrew their
forces across the frontier; but in other parts of the country, the tide
of invasion being unchecked, large tracts of country had been
devastated, and the West Saxons could nowhere make head against them.
One day a messenger reached Edmund telling him that a large Danish army
was approaching Sherborne, and urging him to return instantly to the
defence of his earldom.
With rapid marches he proceeded thither, and on arriving at his house
he found that the Danes were but a few miles away, and that the whole
country was in a state of panic. He at once sent off messengers in all
directions, bidding the people hasten with their wives and families,
their herds and valuables, to the fort. His return to some extent
restored confidence. The news of the victories he had gained over the
Danes had reached Sherborne, and the confidence of their power to
defeat the invaders which his followers expressed as they scattered to
their respective farms again raised the courage of the people.
All through the night bands of fugitives poured into the fort, and by
morning the whole of the people for many miles round were assembled
there. Egbert and Edmund busied themselves in assigning to each his
duty and station. All the men capable of bearing arms were told off to
posts on the walls. The old men and young boys were to draw water and
look after the cattle; the women to cook and attend to the wounded. The
men of his own band were not placed upon the walls, but were held in
readiness as a reserve to move to any point which might be threatened,
and to take part in sorties against the enemy.
Soon smoke was seen rising up in many directions, showing that the
enemy were at their accustomed work. Cries broke from the women, and
exclamations of rage from the men, as they recognized by the direction
of the smoke that their own homesteads and villages were in the hands
of the spoilers. About mid-day a party of mounted Danes rode up towards
the fort and made a circuit of it. When they had satisfied themselves
as to the formidable nature of its defences they rode off again, and
for the rest of the day none of the enemy approached the fort.
CHAPTER VI: THE SAXON FORT
A strict watch was kept all night, and several scouts were sent out.
These on their return reported that the Danes were feasting, having
slain many cattle and broached the casks of mead which they found in
the cellars of Edmund's house. This they had not burned nor the houses
around it, intending, as the scouts supposed, to make it their
headquarters while they attacked the fort.
Edmund and Egbert agreed that it would be well to show the Danes at
once that they had an active and enterprising foe to deal with; they
therefore awakened their band, who were sleeping on skins close to the
gate, and with them started out.
It was still two hours before dawn when they approached the house. Save
a few men on watch, the great Danish host, which the messengers
calculated to amount to ten thousand men, were asleep. Cautiously
making their way so as to avoid stumbling over the Danes, who lay
scattered in groups round the house, the Saxons crept forward quietly
until close to the entrance, when a sleepy watchman started up.
"Who are ye?"
The answer was a blow from Egbert's battle-axe. Then the leaders with
twenty of their men rushed into the house, while the rest remained on
guard at the entrance.
The combat was short but furious, and the clashing of arms and shouts
of the Danes roused those sleeping near, and the men who escaped from
the house spread the alarm. The fight lasted but three or four minutes,
for the Danes, scattered through the house, and in many cases still
stupid from the effects of the previous night's debauch, were unable to
gather and make any collective resistance. The two jarls fought in a
manner worthy of their renown, but the Saxon spears proved more than a
match for their swords, and they died fighting bravely till the last.
Between Saxon and Dane there was no thought of quarter; none asked for
mercy on either side, for none would be granted. The sea rovers never
spared an armed man who fell into their hands, and the Saxons were
infuriated by the sufferings which the invaders had inflicted upon
them, and had no more pity upon their foes than if they had been wild
animals. Besides the jarls some thirty of their minor leaders were in
the house, and but five or six of them escaped. It was well for the
Danes that the detachment which lay there was not their principal body,
which was still a few miles in the rear, for had it been so two of
their kings and six jarls, all men of famed valour, would have been
slain. The instant the work was done the Saxons rejoined those
assembled at the entrance.
Already the Danes were thronging up, but at present in confusion and
disorder, coming rather to see what was the matter than to fight, and
hardly believing that the Saxons could have had the audacity to attack
them. In an instant the Saxons fell into their usual formation, and
overturning and cutting down those who happened to be in their path,
burst through the straggling Danes, and at a trot proceeded across the
country.
It was still quite dark, and it was some time before the Danes became
thoroughly aware of what had happened; then missing the voices of their
leaders, some of them rushed into the house, and the news that the two
jarls and their companions had been slain roused them to fury. At once
they set off in pursuit of the Saxons in a tumultuous throng; but the
band had already a considerable start, and had the advantage of knowing
every foot of the country, of which the Danes were ignorant. When once
fairly through the enemy, Edmund had given the word and the formation
had broken up, so that each man could run freely and without jostling
his comrades. Thus they were enabled to proceed at a rapid pace, and
reached the fort just as day was breaking, without having been
discovered or overtaken by the Danes.
The news of this successful exploit raised the spirits of the garrison
of the fort. The Danes swarmed nearly up to the walls, but seeing how
formidable was the position, and being without leaders, they fell back
without making an attack, some of the more impetuous having fallen from
the arrows of the bowmen.
About mid-day a solid mass of the enemy were seen approaching, and the
banners with the Black Raven on a blood-red field showed that it
contained leaders of importance, and was, in fact, the main body of the
Danes. It was an imposing sight as it marched towards the fort, with
the fluttering banners, the sun shining upon the brass helmets and
shields of the chiefs, and the spear-heads and swords of the footmen.
Here and there parties of horsemen galloped about the plain.
"Their number has not been exaggerated," Egbert said to Edmund, "there
must be ten thousand of them. There are full twice as many as attacked
us on the field of Kesteven."
The sight of the great array struck terror into the minds of a great
part of the defenders of the fort; but the confident bearing of their
young ealdorman and the thought of the strength of their walls
reassured them. The Danes halted at a distance of about a quarter of a
mile from the walls, and three or four of their chiefs rode forward.
These by the splendour of their helmets, shields, and trappings were
clearly men of great importance. They halted just out of bowshot
distance, and one of them, raising his voice, shouted:
"Dogs of Saxons, had you laid down your arms, and made submission to
me, I would have spared you; but for the deed which you did last night,
and the slaying of my brave jarls, I swear that I will have revenge
upon you, and, by the god Wodin, I vow that not one within your walls,
man, woman, or child, shall be spared. This is the oath of King Uffa."
"It were well, King Uffa," Edmund shouted back, "to take no rash oaths;
before you talk of slaying you have got to capture, and you will need
all the aid of your false gods before you take this fort. As to mercy,
we should as soon ask it of wolves. We have God and our good swords to
protect us, and we fear not your host were it three times as strong as
it is."
The Saxons raised a great shout, and the Danish king rode back to his
troops. The lesson which had been given them of the enterprise of the
Saxons was not lost, for the Danes at once began to form a camp,
raising an earthen bank which they crowned with stakes and bushes as a
defence against sudden attacks. This work occupied them two days, and
during this time no blow was struck on either side, as the Danes posted
a strong body of men each night to prevent the Saxons from sallying
out. On the third day the work was finished, and the Danish kings with
their jarls made a circuit round the walls, evidently to select the
place for attack.
The time had passed quietly in the fort. In one corner the priests had
erected an altar, and here mass was said three times a day. The priests
went among the soldiers exhorting them to resist to the last,
confessing them, and giving them absolution.
The pains which the Danes had taken in the preparation of their camp
was a proof of their determination to capture the fort, however long
the operation might be. It showed, too, that they recognized the
difficulty of the task, for had they believed that the capture could be
easily effected they would at once upon their arrival have advanced to
the attack.
"To-morrow morning early," Egbert said, "I expect that they will
assault us. In the first place probably they will endeavour to carry
the fort by a general attack; if they fail in this they will set to
construct engines with which to batter the wall."
At daybreak the following morning the Danes issued from their camp.
Having formed up in regular order, they advanced towards the castle.
They divided into four bands; three of these wheeled round to opposite
sides of the fort, the fourth, which was as large as the other three
together, advanced towards the entrance. The Saxons all took the posts
previously assigned to them on the walls. Edmund strengthened the force
on the side where the gate was by posting there in addition the whole
of his band. Altogether there were nearly 350 fighting men within the
walls, of whom the greater part had fought against the Danes in the
battles of the previous year. The attack commenced simultaneously on
all sides by a discharge of arrows by the archers of both parties. The
Saxons, sheltered behind the parapet on the walls, suffered but
slightly; but their missiles did considerable execution among the
masses of the Danes. These, however, did not pause to continue the
conflict at a distance, but uttering their battle-cry rushed forward.
Edmund and Egbert had but little fear of the attack on the other faces
of the fort proving successful; the chief assault was against the gate,
and it was here that the real danger existed.
The main body of the Danes covered themselves with their shields and
rushed forward with the greatest determination, pouring through the gap
in the outer bank in a solid mass, and then turned along the fosse
towards the inner gate. Closely packed together, with their shields
above their heads forming a sort of testudo or roof which protected
them against the Saxons' arrows, they pressed forward in spite of the
shower of missiles with which the Saxons on the walls assailed them.
Arrows, darts, and great stones were showered down upon them, the
latter breaking down the shields, and affording the archers an
opportunity of pouring in their arrows.
Numbers fell, but the column swept along until it gained the gate. Here
those in front began an attack upon the massive beams with their axes,
and when they had somewhat weakened it, battered it with heavy beams of
timber until it was completely splintered. While this was going on the
Saxons had continued to shoot without intermission, and the Danish dead
were heaped thickly around the gate. The Danish archers, assisted by
their comrades, had scrambled up on to the outer bank and kept up a
heavy fire on the defenders of the wall. The Saxons sheltered their
heads and shoulders which were above the parapet with their shields;
and between these, as through loopholes, their archers shot at the
Danes.
Edmund and Egbert had debated much on the previous days whether they
would pile stones behind the gate, but had finally agreed not to do so.
They argued that although for a time the stones would impede the
progress of the Danes, these would, if they shattered the door, sooner
or later pull down the stones or climb over them; and it was better to
have a smooth and level place for defence inside. They had, however,
raised a bank of earth ten feet high in a semicircle at a distance of
twenty yards within the gate.
When it was seen that the gates were yielding Edmund had called down
his own band from the walls and formed them in a half-circle ten yards
from the gate. They were four deep, as in their usual formation, with
the four lines of spears projecting towards the gate. The mound behind
them he lined with archers.
At last the gates fell, and with an exulting shout the Danes poured in.
As they did so the archers on the mound loosed their arrows, and the
head of the Danish column melted like snow before the blast of a
furnace. Still they poured in and flung themselves upon the spearmen,
but they strove in vain to pierce the hedge of steel. Desperately they
threw themselves upon the pike-heads and died there bravely, but they
were powerless to break a passage.
The archers on the mound still shot fast among them, while those on the
wall, turning round, smote them in the back, where, unprotected by
their shields, they offered a sure and fatal mark. Soon the narrow
semicircle inside the gate became heaped high with dead, impeding the
efforts of those still pressing in. Several of the bravest of the
Danish leaders had fallen. The crowd in the fosse, unaware of the
obstacle which prevented the advance of the head of the column and
harassed by the missiles from above, grew impatient, and after half an
hour of desperate efforts, and having lost upwards of three hundred of
his best men, the Danish king, furious with rage and disappointment,
called off his men.
On the other three sides the attack equally failed. The Danes suffered
heavily while climbing the steep side of the inner mound. They brought
with them faggots, which they cast down at the foot of the wall, but
this was built so near the edge of the slope that they were unable to
pile sufficient faggots to give them the height required for a
successful assault upon it. Many climbed up on their comrades'
shoulders, and so tried to scale the wall, but they were thrust down by
the Saxon spears as they raised themselves to its level, and in no
place succeeded in gaining a footing. Over two hundred fell in the
three minor attacks.
There were great rejoicings among the Saxons, on whose side but
twenty-three had been killed. A solemn mass was held, at which all save
a few look-outs on the walls attended, and thanks returned to God for
the repulse of the pagans; then the garrison full of confidence awaited
the next attack of the enemy.
Stones were piled up in the gateway to prevent any sudden surprise
being effected there. The Danes in their retreat had carried off their
dead, and the next morning the Saxons saw that they were busy with the
ceremonies of their burial. At some little distance from their camp the
dead were placed in a sitting position, in long rows back to back with
their weapons by their sides, and earth was piled over them until a
great mound fifty yards long and ten feet high was raised.
Three jarls and one of their kings were buried separately. They were
placed together in a sitting position, with their helmets on their
heads, their shields on their arms, and their swords by their sides.
Their four war-horses were killed and laid beside them; twenty slaves
were slaughtered and placed lying round them, for their spirits to
attend them in the Walhalla of the gods. Golden drinking-vessels and
other ornaments were placed by them, and then a mound forty feet in
diameter and twenty feet high was piled over the whole.
The whole force were occupied all day with this work. The next day
numbers of trees were felled and brought to the camp, and for the next
two days the Danes were occupied in the manufacture of war-engines for
battering down the walls. Edmund and Egbert utilized the time in
instructing the soldiers who did not form part of the regular band, in
the formation of the quadruple line of defence which the Danes had
found it so impossible to break through, so that if more than one
breach was effected, a resistance similar to that made at the gate
could be offered at all points. The skins of the oxen killed for the
use of the garrison were carefully laid aside, the inside being thickly
rubbed with grease.
The Danish preparations were at length completed, the war-engines were
brought up and began to hurl great stones against the wall at three
points. The Saxons kept up a constant fire of arrows at those employed
at working them, but the Danes, though losing many men, threw up
breastworks to protect them.
The Saxons manufactured many broad ladders, and in the middle of the
night, lowering these over the walls, they descended noiselessly, and
three strong bodies fell upon the Danes guarding the engines. These
fought stoutly, but were driven back, the engines were destroyed, and
the Saxons retired to their walls again and drew up their ladders
before the main body of Danes could arrive from the camp. This caused a
delay of some days in the siege, but fresh engines having been
constructed, the assault on the walls was recommenced, this time the
whole Danish army moving out and sleeping at night close to them.
After three days' battering, breaches of from thirty to fifty feet wide
were effected in the walls. The Saxons had not been idle. Behind each
of the threatened points they raised banks of earth ten feet high, and
cut away the bank perpendicularly behind the shattered wall, so that
the assailants as they poured in at the gaps would have to leap ten
feet down.
Each night the masses of wall which fell inside were cleared away, and
when the breach was complete, and it was evident that the assault would
take place the next morning, the hides which had been prepared were
laid with the hairy side down, on the ground below. Through them they
drove firmly into the ground numbers of pikes with the heads sticking
up one or two feet, and pointed stakes hardened in the fire. Then
satisfied that all had been done the Saxons lay down to rest.
In the morning the Danes advanced to the assault. This time they were
but little annoyed in their advance by the archers. These were posted
on the walls at each side of the gaps to shoot down at the backs of the
Danes after they had entered. On the inner semicircular mounds the
Saxon force gathered four deep.
With loud shouts the Danes rushed forward, climbed the outer mounds,
and reached the breaches. Here the leaders paused on seeing the gulf
below them, but pressed by those behind they could not hesitate long,
but leapt down from the breach on to the slippery hides below.
Not one who did so lived. It was impossible to keep their feet as they
alighted, and as they fell they were impaled by the pikes and stakes.
Pressed by those behind, however, fresh men leapt down, falling in
their turn, until at length the hides and stakes were covered, and
those leaping down found a foothold on the bodies of the fallen. Then
they crowded on and strove to climb the inner bank and attack the
Saxons. Now the archers on the walls opened fire upon them, and,
pierced through and through with the arrows which struck them on the
back, the Danes fell in great numbers. Edmund commanded at one of the
breaches, Egbert at another, and Oswald, an old and experienced
warrior, at the third.
At each point the scene was similar. The Danes struggled up the mounds
only to fail to break through the hedge of spears which crowned them,
fast numbers dying in the attempt, while as many more fell pierced with
arrows. For an hour the Danes continued their desperate efforts, and
not until fifteen hundred had been slain did they draw off to their
camp, finding it impossible to break through the Saxon defences.
Loud rose the shouts of the triumphant Saxons as the Danes retired, and
it needed all the efforts of their leaders to prevent them from pouring
out in pursuit; but the events of the preceding year had taught the
Saxon leaders how often their impetuosity after success had proved
fatal to the Saxons, and that once in the plain the Danes would turn
upon them and crush them by their still greatly superior numbers.
Therefore no one was allowed to sally out, and the discomfited Danes
retired unmolested.
The next morning to their joy the Saxons saw that the invaders had
broken up their camp, and had marched away in the night. Scouts were
sent out in various directions, and the Saxons employed themselves in
stripping and burying the Danes who had fallen within the fort, only a
few of the most distinguished having been carried off. The scouts
returned with news that the Danes had made no halt, but had departed
entirely from that part of the country. Finding that for the present
they were free of the invaders, the Saxons left the fort and scattered
again, to rebuild as best they might their devastated homes.
But if in the neighbourhood of Sherborne the Danes had been severely
repulsed, in other parts of the kingdom they continued to make great
progress, and the feeling of despair among the Saxons increased. Great
numbers left their homes, and taking with them all their portable
possessions, made their way to the sea-coast, and there embarked for
France, where they hoped to be able to live peaceably and quietly.
Edmund placed no hindrance in the way of such of his people who chose
this course, for the prospect appeared well-nigh hopeless. The majority
of the Saxons were utterly broken in spirit, and a complete conquest of
the kingdom by the Danes seemed inevitable. In the spring, however, of
877 King Alfred again issued an urgent summons. A great horde of Danes
had landed at Exeter and taken possession of that town, and he
determined to endeavour to crush them. He sent to Edmund begging him to
proceed at once to Poole, where the king's fleet was ready for sea, and
to embark in it with what force he could raise, and to sail and
blockade the entrance to the river Exe, and so prevent the Danes from
reinforcing their countrymen, while he with his forces laid siege to
Exeter.
Edmund would have taken his own vessel, but some time would have been
lost, and the king's ships were short of hands. He was not sorry,
indeed, that his men should have some practise at sea, and taking his
own band, in which the vacancies which had been caused in the defence
of the fort had been filled up, he proceeded to Poole. Here he embarked
his men in one of the ships, and the fleet, comprising twenty vessels,
put to sea.
The management of the vessels and their sails was in the hands of
experienced sailors, and Edmund's men had no duties to perform except
to fight the enemy when they met them.
The news of the siege of Exeter reached the Danes at Wareham, which was
their head-quarters, and 120 vessels filled with their troops sailed
for the relief of Exeter.
The weather was unpropitious, heavy fogs lay on the water, dissipated
occasionally by fierce outbursts of wind. The Saxon fleet kept the sea.
It was well that for a time the Danish fleet did not appear in sight,
for the Saxons, save the sailors, were unaccustomed to the water, and
many suffered greatly from the rough motion; and had the Danes appeared
for the first week after the fleet put to sea a combat must have been
avoided, as the troops were in no condition to fight.
Presently, however, they recovered from their malady and became eager
to meet the enemy; Edmund bade his men take part in the working of the
ship in order to accustom themselves to the duties of seamen. The fleet
did not keep the sea all the time, returning often to the straits
between the Isle of Wight and the mainland, where they lay in shelter,
a look-out being kept from the top of the hills, whence a wide sweep of
sea could be seen, and where piles of wood were collected by which a
signal fire could warn the fleet to put to sea should the enemy's
vessels come in sight.
A full month passed and the Saxons began to fear that the Danes might
have eluded them, having perhaps been blown out to sea and having made
the land again far to the west. One morning, however, smoke was seen to
rise from the beacon fire. The crews who were on shore instantly
hurried on board. From the hills the Danish fleet was made out far to
the west and was seen to be approaching the land from seaward, having
been driven far out of its course by the winds.
The weather was wild and threatening and the sailors predicted a great
storm. Nevertheless the fleet put to sea and with reefed sails ran to
the west. Their vessels were larger than the Danish galleys and could
better keep the sea in a storm. Many miles were passed before, from the
decks, the Danish flotilla could be seen. Presently, however, a great
number of their galleys were discerned rowing in towards Swanage Bay.
In spite of the increasing fury of the wind the Saxons spread more sail
and succeeded in intercepting the Danes. A desperate fight began, but
the Danes in their low, long vessels had all they could do to keep
afloat on the waves. Many were run down by the Saxons. The showers of
arrows from their lofty poops confused the rowers and slew many.
Sweeping along close to them they often broke off the oars and disabled
them. Sometimes two or three of the Danish galleys would try to close
with a Saxon ship, but the sea was too rough for the boats to remain
alongside while the men tried to climb up the high sides, and the
Saxons with their spears thrust down those who strove to do so.
Confusion and terror soon reigned among the Danes, and fearing to try
to escape by sea in such a storm made for the shore, hotly pursued by
the Saxons.
But the shore was even more inhospitable than their foes. Great rocks
bordered the coast, and upon these the galleys were dashed into
fragments. The people on shore, who had gathered at the sight of the
approaching fleets, fell upon such of the Danes as succeeded in gaining
the coast, and everyone who landed was instantly slain. Thus, partly
from the effects of the Saxon fleet but still more from that of the
storm, the whole of the Danish fleet of one hundred and twenty vessels
was destroyed, not a single ship escaping the general destruction.
CHAPTER VII: THE DRAGON
The Danes at Exeter, being now cut off from all hope of relief, asked
for terms, and the king granted them their lives on condition of their
promising to leave Wessex and not to return. This promise they swore by
their most solemn oaths to observe, and marching northward passed out
of Wessex and settled near Gloucester. Some of the Saxons thought that
the king had been wrong in granting such easy terms, but he pointed out
to the ealdormen who remonstrated with him that there were many other
and larger bands of Danes in Mercia and Anglia, and that had he
massacred the band at Exeter--and this he could not have done without
the loss of many men, as assuredly the Danes would have fought
desperately for their lives--the news of their slaughter would have
brought upon him fresh invasions from all sides.
By this time all resistance to the Danes in Mercia had ceased. Again
and again King Burhred had bought them off, but this only brought fresh
hordes down upon him, and at last, finding the struggle hopeless, he
had gone as a pilgrim to Rome, where he had died. The Danes acted in
Mercia as they had done in Northumbria. They did not care, themselves,
to settle down for any length of time, and therefore appointed a weak
Saxon thane, Ceolwulf, as the King of Mercia. He ruled cruelly and
extorted large revenues from the land-owners, and robbed the
monasteries, which had escaped destruction, of their treasures.
The Danes suffered him to pursue this course until he had amassed great
wealth, when they swooped down upon him, robbed him of all he
possessed, and took away the nominal kingship he had held. As there was
now but little fresh scope for plundering in England many of the Danes
both in Anglia and Mercia settled down in the cities and on the lands
which they had taken from the Saxons.
The Danes who had gone from Exeter were now joined by another band
which had landed in South Wales. The latter, finding but small plunder
was to be obtained among the mountains of that country, moved to
Gloucester, and joining the band there proposed a fresh invasion of
Wessex. The Danes, in spite of the oaths they had sworn to Alfred, and
the hostages they had left in his hands, agreed to the proposal; and
early in the spring of 878 the bands, swollen by reinforcements from
Mercia, marched into Wiltshire and captured the royal castle of
Chippenham on the Avon. From this point they spread over the country
and destroyed everything with fire and sword. A general panic seized
the inhabitants. The better class, with the bishops, priests, and
monks, made for the sea-coasts and thence crossed to France, taking
with them all their portable goods, with the relics, precious stones,
and ornaments of the churches and monasteries.
Another party of Danes in twenty-three ships had landed in Devonshire.
Here the ealdorman Adda had constructed a castle similar to that which
Edmund had built. It was fortified by nature on three sides and had a
strong rampart of earth on another. The Danes tried to starve out the
defenders of the fort; but the Saxons held out for a long time,
although sorely pressed by want of water. At last they sallied out one
morning at daybreak and fell upon the Danes and utterly defeated them,
only a few stragglers regaining their ships.
A thousand Danes are said to have been slain at Kynwith; but this was
an isolated success; in all other parts of the kingdom panic appeared
to have taken possession of the West Saxons. Those who could not leave
the country retired to the woods, and thence, when the Danes had passed
by, leaving ruin and desolation behind them, they sallied out and again
began to till the ground as best they could. Thus for a time the West
Saxons, formerly so valiant and determined, sank to the condition of
serfs; for when all resistance ceased the Danes were well pleased to
see the ground tilled, as otherwise they would speedily have run short
of stores.
At the commencement of the invasion Edmund had marched out with his
band and had inflicted heavy blows upon parties of plunderers; but he
soon perceived that the struggle was hopeless. He therefore returned to
Sherborne, and collecting such goods as he required and a good store of
provisions he marched to the place where the ship had been hidden. No
wandering band of Danes had passed that way, and the bushes with which
she had been covered were undisturbed. These were soon removed and a
passage three feet deep, and wide enough for the ship to pass through,
was dug from the deep hole in which she was lying to the river.
When the last barrier was cut the water poured in, and the Saxons had
the satisfaction of seeing the vessel rise gradually until the water in
the dock was level with that in the river. Then she was taken out into
the stream, the stores and fittings placed aboard, and she was poled
down to the mouth of the river. Egbert had gone before and had already
engaged fifteen sturdy sailors to go with them. The Danes had not yet
reached the sea-coast from the interior, and there was therefore no
difficulty in obtaining the various equipments necessary. In a week her
masts were up and her sails in position.
The Dragon, as she was called, excited great admiration at the port,
all saying that she was the finest and largest ship that had ever been
seen there. While her fitting out had been going on she was hove up on
shore and received several coats of paint. Edmund was loath to start on
his voyage without again seeing the king, but no one knew where Alfred
now was, he, on finding the struggle hopeless, having retired to the
fastnesses of Somerset to await the time when the Saxons should be
driven by oppression again to take up arms.
At last all was ready, and the Dragon put out to sea. She was provided
with oars as well as sails, but these were only to be used when in
pursuit, or when flying from a superior enemy. As soon as she had been
long enough at sea to enable the band again to recover from the effects
of sickness the oars were got out and the men practised in their use.
As in the models from which she had been built, she rowed two banks of
oars, the one worked by men upon deck, the others through small
port-holes. The latter could only be used when the weather was fine;
when the sea was high they were closed up and fastened. The lower-deck
oars were each rowed by one man, while the upper bank, which were
longer and heavier, had each two men to work it.
Before starting Edmund had increased the strength of his band to ninety
men, that number being required for the oars, of which the Dragon had
fifteen on each bank on each side. At first there was terrible
splashing and confusion, but in time the men learned to row in order,
and in three weeks after putting to sea the oars worked well in time
together, and the Dragon, with her ninety rowers, moved through the
water at a great rate of speed.
During this time she had never been far from land keeping but a short
distance from the port from which she had sailed, as Edmund did not
wish to fall in with the Danes until his crew were able to maneuver her
with the best effect. When, at last, satisfied that all knew their duty
he returned to port, took in a fresh supply of provisions, and then
sailed away again in search of the enemy. He coasted along the shore of
Hampshire and Sussex without seeing a foe, and then sailing round Kent
entered the mouth of the Thames. The Dragon kept on her way until she
reached the point where the river begins to narrow, and there the sails
were furled and the anchor thrown overboard to wait for Danish galleys
coming down the river.
On the third day after they had anchored they perceived four black
specks in the distance, and these the sailors soon declared to be
Danish craft. They were rowing rapidly, having ten oars on either side,
and at their mast-heads floated the Danish Raven. The anchor was got
up, and as the Danes approached, the Golden Dragon, the standard of
Wessex, was run up to the mast-head, the sails were hoisted, the oars
got out, and the vessel advanced to meet the approaching Danes.
These for a moment stopped rowing in astonishment at seeing so large a
ship bearing the Saxon flag. Then they at once began to scatter in
different directions; but the Dragon, impelled both by the wind and her
sixty oars, rapidly overtook them. When close alongside the galley
nearest to them the men on the upper deck, at an order from Edmund, ran
in their oars, and seizing their bows poured a volley of arrows into
the galley, killing most of the rowers. Then the Dragon was steered
alongside, and the Saxons, sword in hand, leaped down into the galley.
Most of the Danes were cut down at once; the rest plunged into the
water and swam for their lives. Leaving the deserted galley behind, the
Dragon continued the pursuit of the others, and overtook and captured
another as easily as she had done the first.
The other two boats reached the shore before they were overtaken, and
those on board leaping out fled. The Saxons took possession of the
deserted galleys. They found them, as they expected, stored full of
plunder of all kinds--rich wearing apparel, drinking goblets, massive
vessels of gold and silver which had been torn from some desecrated
altar, rich ornaments and jewels and other articles. These were at once
removed to the Dragon. Fire was applied to the boats, and they were
soon a mass of flames. Then the Dragon directed her course to the two
galleys she had first captured. These were also rifled of their
contents and burned. The Saxons were delighted at the success which had
attended their first adventure.
"We shall have rougher work next time," Egbert said. "The Danes who
escaped will carry news to London, and we shall be having a whole fleet
down to attack us in a few days."
"If they are in anything like reasonable numbers we will fight them; if
not, we can run. We have seen to-day how much faster we are than the
Danish boats; and though I shall be in favour of fighting if we have a
fair chance of success, it would be folly to risk the success of our
enterprise by contending against overwhelming numbers at the outset,
seeing that we shall be able to pick up so many prizes round the coast."
"We can beat a score of them," Egbert grumbled. "I am in favour of
fighting the Danes whenever we see them."
"When there is a hope of success, Egbert, yes; but you know even the
finest bull can be pulled down by a pack of dogs. The Dragon is a
splendid ship, and does credit alike to King Alfred's first advice, to
the plans of the Italian shipbuilders, and to the workmanship and
design of the shipwright of Exeter, and I hope she will long remain to
be a scourge to the Danes at sea as they have been a scourge to the
Saxons on shore; and it is because I hope she is going to do such good
service to England that I would be careful of her. You must remember,
too, that many of the Danish galleys are far larger than those we had
to do with to-day. We are not going to gobble them all up as a pike
swallows minnows."
The Dragon had now anchored again, and four days elapsed before any
Danish galleys were seen. At the end of that time six large Danish
war-ships were perceived in the distance. Edmund and Egbert from the
top of the lofty poop watched them coming.
"They row thirty oars each side," Egbert said, "and are crowded with
men. What say you, Edmund, shall we stop and fight them, or shall the
Dragon spread her wings?"
"We have the advantage of height," Edmund said, "and from our bow and
stern castles can shoot down into them; but if they lie alongside and
board us their numbers will give them an immense advantage. I should
think that we might run down one or two of them. The Dragon is much
more strongly built than these galleys of the Danes, and if when they
close round us we have the oars lashed on both sides as when we are
rowing, it will be next to impossible for them to get alongside except
at the stern and bow, which are far too high for them to climb."
"Very well," Egbert said, "if you are ready to fight, you may be sure I
am."
The anchor was got up and the oars manned, and the Dragon quietly
advanced towards the Danish boats. The men were instructed to row
slowly, and it was not until within a hundred yards of the leading
galley that the order was given to row hard.
The men strained at the tough oars, and the Dragon leapt ahead to meet
the foe. Her bow was pointed as if she would have passed close by the
side of the Danish galley, which was crowded with men. When close to
her, however, the helmsman pushed the tiller across and the Dragon
swept straight down upon her. A shout of dismay rose from the Danes, a
hasty volley of arrows and darts was hurled at the Dragon, and the
helmsman strove to avoid the collision, but in vain. The Dragon struck
her on the beam, the frail craft broke up like an egg-shell under the
blow, and sank almost instantly under the bows of the Dragon.
Without heeding the men struggling thickly in the water, the Dragon
continued her course. Warned by the fate of the first boat, the next
endeavoured to avoid her path. Her commander shouted orders. The rowers
on one side backed while those on the other pulled, but she was not
quite quick enough. The Dragon struck her a few feet from the stern,
cutting her in two.
The other galleys now closed in alongside. The Saxons hastily fastened
their oars as they had been rowing and then betook themselves to their
posts, those with spears and swords to the sides to prevent the enemy
from climbing up, the archers to the lofty castles at either end. The
Danes had the greatest difficulty in getting alongside, the oars
keeping the galleys at a distance. For some time the combat was
conducted entirely by the archers on both sides, the Danes suffering
much the most heavily, as the Saxons were protected by the bulwarks,
while from their lofty positions they were enabled to fire down into
the galleys.
At last one of the Danish vessels rowed straight at the broadside of
the Dragon, and breaking her way through the oars her bow reached the
side. Then the Danes strove to leap on board, but the Saxons pursued
the tactics which had succeeded so well on land, and forming in a close
mass where the Danish vessel touched the Dragon, opposed a thick hedge
of spears to those who strove to board her.
The Danes fought desperately. Several notable leaders, hearing that a
great Saxon ship had appeared on the Thames, had come down to capture
her, and leading their followers, strove desperately to cut their way
to the deck of the Dragon. Taking advantage of the strife, the other
galleys repeated the maneuver which had succeeded, and each in turn ran
their stem through the Saxon oars, and reached the side of the Dragon.
In this position, however, they had the immense disadvantage that only
a few men at once could strive to board, while the Saxons were able to
oppose all their strength at these four points.
For a time the Saxons repulsed every effort, but as the lashings of the
oars gave way under the pressure of the Danish ships, these drifted
alongside, and they were thus able to attack along the whole length of
the bulwarks between the castles. The Saxons were now hard put to it,
but their superior height still enabled them to keep the Danes in check.
All this time the five vessels had been drifting down the river
together. Presently, when the conflict was hottest, the chief of the
sailors made his way to Edmund.
"If we get up the sails we may be able to draw out from the galleys."
"Do so," Edmund said, "and at once, for we are hardly pressed; they are
four to one against us."
The sailors at once sprang to the halliards, and soon the great sail
rose on the mast. Almost instantly the Dragon began to glide away from
the galleys. The Danes with ropes endeavoured to lash themselves to her
sides, but these were severed as fast as thrown, and in two or three
minutes the Dragon had drawn herself clear of them. The Danes betook
themselves to their oars, but many of these had been broken between the
vessels, and rowing their utmost they could only just keep up with the
Dragon, for the wind was blowing freely. Fully half the oars of the
Dragon were broken, but the rest were soon manned, and she then rapidly
drew away from her pursuers.
"I am not going to run further," Edmund said. "Now that we have once
shaken them off, let us turn and meet them again."
As the vessel's head was brought up into the wind the Danes ceased
rowing. The fate which had befallen their two galleys at the
commencement of the fight was still before them. They had lost great
numbers of men in the attempt to board from the Saxon pikes and arrows,
and their desire to renew the fight vanished when they saw that the
Saxons were equally ready. Therefore, as the Dragon approached them,
they sheered off on either side of her and rowed for the mouth of the
Medway.
The Saxons did not pursue. They had lost eight men killed, and
seventeen wounded by the Danish arrows, and were well content to be
quit of their opponents, upon whom they had inflicted a severe blow, as
each of the galleys sunk had contained fully a hundred and fifty men,
and great numbers of the Danes on board the other ships had fallen.
They now left the Thames and sailed to Sandwich. The town had been
shortly before burned by the Danes, but these had left, and some of the
inhabitants had returned. Here the Dragon waited for a week, by the end
of which time the traces of the conflict had been obliterated, and new
oars made. Edmund found no difficulty in filling up the vacancies
caused in the fight, as many of the young Saxons were burning to avenge
the sufferings which the Danes had inflicted, and could have obtained
several times the number he required had there been room for them. He
was therefore enabled to pick out sturdy fellows accustomed to the sea.
When the Dragon again set sail her head was laid to the northward, as
Edmund intended to cruise off East Anglia, from whose shores fleets
were constantly crossing and recrossing to Denmark.
They picked up several prizes at the mouths of the eastern rivers,
scarcely having to strike a blow, so surprised were the Danes at the
appearances of the great Saxon galley. Whenever the Danes surrendered
without resistance Edmund gave them quarter and landed them in small
boats on the shore; their ships, after being emptied of the booty they
contained, were burned. When off Yarmouth, where they had captured four
Danish vessels sailing out unsuspicious of danger, the wind veered
round to the north-east and began to blow very strongly.
The long line of sandbanks off the coast broke somewhat the violence of
the sea, and the Dragon rode all night to her anchors; but in the
morning the wind continued to rise. The sea became more and more
violent, and the anchors began to drag. Edmund and Egbert, after a
consultation, agreed that their only chance of saving the vessel was to
enter the river. The tide was running in, but the sea was so heavy on
the bar of the river that the efforts of the crew at the oars barely
sufficed to keep her on her course. At length, however, she made her
way safely between the posts which marked the entrance, and rowing up
until they passed a turn, and were sheltered from the force of the
gale, they again anchored.
The oars were all lashed out firmly to keep any boats from approaching
her sides. Bales of goods with which her hold was filled were brought
on deck, and piled high along the bulwarks so as to afford a shelter
from missiles. Even as they entered the harbour numbers of Danes had
assembled at the point; for the capture and destruction of their ships
had of course been seen, and the crews set ashore had spread the news
that the strange vessel was a Saxon. The Norfolk bank being somewhat
higher than the Suffolk, the boat was anchored rather nearer to the
latter, as it was from the town of Yarmouth that an attack was
anticipated.
As soon as the anchors were let go the Danes began to fire their
arrows; but so powerful was the gale that the greater part of them were
swept far away. As the day went on the numbers of Danes on the bank
increased largely, and vast numbers of arrows were discharged at the
Dragon. The crew kept under shelter, and although she was often struck
no damage was done.
In the afternoon a fleet of galleys was seen coming down the river. The
Danes possessed a large number of these boats at Yarmouth, and in these
they navigated the inland waters far into the interior. The wind had
shifted until it was blowing nearly due east, and Edmund and Egbert had
agreed upon the best course to be pursued. In case of attack they could
hardly hope finally to beat off the assault of a large fleet of
galleys, and would besides be exposed to attack by boats laden with
combustibles. Therefore as soon as the galleys were seen approaching
the oars were unlashed, the great sail hoisted, and at her best speed
the Dragon advanced up the river to meet her foes. The Danes gave a
shout of alarm as the vessel advanced to meet them with the water
surging in a white wave from her bows, and the greater part of them
hurried towards one bank or the other to escape the shock. Some, slower
in movement or stouter in heart, awaited the attack, while from all a
storm of missiles was poured upon the advancing boat.
Heedless of these she continued her way. Her sharp bow crashed right
through the side of the Danish boats, and having destroyed seven of
them on her way she passed through the flotilla and continued her
course. The dragon waved triumphantly from her mast as she passed under
the walls of Yarmouth. These were crowded with Danes, who vainly
showered arrows and javelins as she flew past, with the fleets of
galleys rowing in her wake. A few minutes and she was out on the broad
sheet of water beyond. The Danish galleys paused at the entrance. In so
wild a storm they would have had difficulty in keeping their boats
straight, while the great galley with her sails and oars would be able
to maneuver freely, and could strike and run them down one by one.
"What is that pile of buildings on the rising knoll of ground some
three miles away?" Edmund asked.
"It is Bamborough Castle," Egbert replied, "a Roman stronghold of
immense strength."
"Let us run up thither," Edmund said. "If, as is likely enough, it is
unoccupied, we will land there and take possession. Are the walls
complete?"
"Assuredly they are," Egbert said. "They are of marvellous strength,
such as we cannot build in our days. They run in a great semicircle
from the edge of the water round the crest of the knoll and down again
to the water. There is but one gateway in the wall on the land side,
and this we can block up. We need not fear an attack from the land, for
between the river and the castle there are wide swamps; so that unless
they row up and attack us from the water we are safe."
"I think that they will not do that," Edmund said, "after the taste
which the Dragon has given them of her quality. At any rate I think we
are safe till the storm abates."
By this time, running rapidly before the wind, the Dragon was
approaching the great Roman fort, whose massive walls struck Edmund
with astonishment. No one was to be seen moving about in the space
inclosed by them. The sail was lowered and the vessel brought to the
bank. The anchors were taken ashore and she was soon solidly moored.
Then the crew leapt on to the land and ascended the bank to the great
level inclosure.
The walls were, as Egbert had said, intact--and indeed, except on the
side facing the river, remained almost unbroken to the present day. An
hour's labour sufficed to block the gateway, where a pair of massive
doors were in position, for the place had been defended by the Saxons
against the Danes at their first landing on the coast. A few men were
placed as sentries on the walls, and, feeling now perfectly safe from
any attack on the land side, Edmund and his followers returned on board
the Dragon for the night.
CHAPTER VIII: THE CRUISE OF THE DRAGON
The night passed without alarm. The gale continued to blow with fury,
and until it abated Edmund had little fear that the Danes would venture
upon an attack. They had indeed no reason for haste. The Saxon vessel
was in their waters, and could not return so long as the storm
continued to blow from the east. The next day parties of Danes were
seen making their way across the swampy country from the direction of
Yarmouth.
As soon, however, as these approached near enough to see the Saxons in
readiness on the walls of the castle they retired at once, knowing that
the place could be captured by nothing short of a prolonged and
desperate siege. On the fourth day the storm abated, and the Saxons
prepared to make their way seaward again. The wind still blew, but
lightly, from the same quarter, and the sails would therefore be of no
use. With their great oar-power they were confident that, once through
the Danish flotilla, they could defy pursuit.
Accordingly they again embarked, and loosing their moorings rowed down
towards Yarmouth. They had chosen a time when the tide was running in;
for although this would hinder their progress it would equally impede
their pursuers, while it would enable them to check their vessel in
time did they find any unforeseen obstacle in their way. They entered
the river and rowed along quietly until they neared the walls of the
town. Here the river was at its narrowest, and they saw the Danish
galleys gathered thickly in the stream.
Edmund and Egbert were on the forecastle, and presently gave the signal
for the men to cease rowing.
"It is just as I expected," Egbert said; "they have formed a boom
across the river of trunks of trees and beams lashed together. We
cannot make our way down until that obstacle is removed. What say you
Edmund?"
"I agree with you," Edmund replied.
"We had best keep along close to the right bank until within a short
distance of the boom; then we must land the greater part of our men.
These must march along the bank in their phalanx; the others must keep
the boat moving close alongside, and from the forecastle they will be
able to fire down upon the Danes and aid those on shore to drive them
back and make their way to the end of the boom. They have but to cut
the lashings there and the whole will swing round. But now we see the
nature of the obstacle, and what is to be done, it were best to wait
until the tide turns. In the first place, fewer men will be needed on
board the ship, as she will advance by herself abreast of the men on
shore. In the second place, when the lashing is cut the boom will then
swing down the stream, will cause confusion among the boats behind it,
and will open a clear space for us to make our way down."
Edmund agreed, a light anchor was dropped, and the Dragon rode quietly
in the stream. Great animation was evident among the Danes, large
numbers crossed the river, and a strong force gathered at either end of
the boom and in boats close behind it, to prevent the Saxons from
attempting to cut the lashings. There was little uneasiness on board
the Dragon, the Saxons were confident now of the power of their close
formation to force its way through any number of the enemy, and they
would gain such assistance from the fire from the lofty forecastle that
they doubted not that they should be able to drive back the Danes and
destroy the boom. In an hour the tide no longer rose. They waited till
it ran down with full force, then the anchor was hauled up, and the
Dragon rowed to the bank.
Sixty of the fighting men headed by Egbert leapt on shore. Edmund with
the remainder took his place on the forecastle. The oars next to the
bank were drawn in, and some of those on the outward side manned by the
sailors. Then in its usual order the phalanx moved slowly forward while
the ship floated along beside them close to the bank. The Danes with
loud shouts advanced to meet them, and the arrows soon began to fly
thickly. Covered by the long shields of the front rank the Saxons moved
forward steadily, while, as the Danes approached, the archers on the
forecastle opened a destructive fire upon them.
The confidence of the Saxons was justified, for the combat was never in
doubt. Although the Northmen fought bravely they were unable to
withstand the steady advance of the wedge of spears, and very many fell
beneath the rain of arrows from above. Steadily the wedge made its way
until it reached the end of the boom. A few blows with their axes
sufficed to cut the cables which fastened it in its place. As soon as
this was done Edmund gave a shout, and the Saxons at once sprang on
board the ship, which before the Danes could follow them was steered
out into the stream.
As Egbert had foreseen, the boom as it swung round swept before it a
number of the Danish boats, and imprisoned them between it and the
shore. The oars were soon run out, and while the men on the forecastle
continued their fire at the Danish boats, the others seizing the oars
swept the Dragon along the stream. The Danes strove desperately to
arrest her progress. Some tried to run alongside and board, others
dashed in among the oars and impeded the work of the rowers, while from
the walls of the town showers of missiles were poured down upon her.
But the tide was gaining every moment in strength, and partly drifting,
partly rowing, the Dragon, like a bull attacked by a pack of dogs, made
her way down the river. Every effort of the Danes to board was
defeated, and many of their boats sunk, and at last she made her way
into the open sea. There her sails were hoisted, and she soon left her
pursuers behind. Once at sea her course was again turned north, and
picking up some prizes on the way she took up her station off the mouth
of the Humber.
Several ships were captured as they sailed out from the river. After
the spoil on board was taken out, these, instead of being burnt, as had
always been the case before, were allowed to proceed on their way,
since had they been destroyed the crews must either have been slain or
landed. The first course was repugnant to Edmund, the second could not
be adopted, because they would have carried the news to the Danes, that
the Dragon was off the river and no more ships would have put to sea;
and indeed, so large was the number of Danish vessels always up the
Humber that a fleet could easily have been equipped and sent out,
before which the Dragon must have taken flight.
One day a large sailing ship was seen coming out. The Dragon remained
with lowered sail until she had passed; then started in pursuit, and
speedily came up with the Danish vessel. Edmund summoned her to
surrender, and was answered by a Norseman of great stature and noble
appearance, who from the poop hurled a javelin, which would have
pierced Edmund had he not leapt quickly aside. A few other darts were
thrown and then the Dragon ran alongside the enemy and boarded her.
The opposition of the Northmen was speedily beaten down, but their
leader desperately defended the ladder leading to the poop. He was
struck by two arrows, and fell on one knee, and Edmund was about to
climb the ladder when the door of the cabin in the poop opened, and a
Norse maiden some sixteen years old sprang out. Seeing her father
wounded at the top of the ladder and the Saxons preparing to ascend it,
while others turned their bows against the wounded Northman, she sprang
forward and throwing herself upon her knees before Edmund besought him
to spare her father's life. Edmund raised his hand and the bows were
lowered.
"I have no wish to slay your father, maiden," he said gently; "we slay
only those who resist, and resistance on the part of a single man, and
he wounded, against a whole ship's crew is madness. We are no
sea-wolves who slay for the pleasure of slaying, but are Saxons, who
fight for our country against the oppressions and rapine of your
people. Little right have they to mercy seeing they show none; but our
religion enjoins us to have pity even upon our enemies. You had best
ascend to your father and see to his wounds, none will harm you or him."
The girl with an exclamation of thanks sprang up the ladder. Edmund
superintended the searching of the ship. She contained a great store of
valuables, which were speedily transferred to the Dragon. When this had
been done Edmund ascended to the poop. The jarl was sitting in a great
chair placed there. Edmund had already learnt from the crew that he was
Jarl Siegbert, a noted leader of the Northmen. His daughter had drawn
out the arrows and bandaged the wounds.
"Jarl Siegbert," Edmund said as he approached him, "you have been a
bitter enemy of the Saxons, and small mercy have you shown to those who
have fallen into your hands, but learn now that we Christian Saxons
take no vengeance on a defenceless foe. You are free to pursue your
voyage with your daughter and your ship to Norway. Your stores we have
made free with, seeing that they are all plunder taken from the Saxons,
and we do but reclaim our own."
"And who are you, young sir?" the jarl asked.
"I am one of King Alfred's ealdormen of Wessex, Edmund by name."
"I have heard of you," the Dane said, "as one who has taught the Saxons
new tactics, fighting in a close body which has more than once pierced
our lines and caused our overthrow; but you are a mere lad."
"I am young," Edmund replied, "and had it not been for the invasions
and oppressions of your countrymen, might have still accounted myself
as scarce a man; but you have made warriors of every West Saxon capable
of bearing a sword. Remember, jarl, that your life has been in Saxon
hands, and that they have spared it, so come not hither to our shores
again."
"I purpose not doing so," the Northman replied. "I have seen enough of
stricken fields, and was returning to my own country to hang up my
sword, content with the fame I have gained, until Woden called me to
join his warriors and feast in his halls. Since we may not meet there,
young Saxon--for they say that you Christians look to a place where
arms will be laid aside and the sound of feasting be unheard--I will
say farewell. For myself, I thank you not for my life, for I would
rather have died as I have lived with my sword in my hand; but for my
daughter's sake I thank you, for she is but young to be left
unprotected in the world."
A few minutes later, the Danish vessel continued on her way, and the
Dragon again took her station on the look-out. She was now deep in the
water, and after picking up one or two more small prizes, Edmund and
Egbert determined to return home.
It was probable that the Danes would soon take the alarm and despatch a
fleet to attack them. Laden down as the Dragon was, her speed under
oars was materially affected, and it was advisable to stow away their
booty before proceeding with further adventures. Her head was turned
south, and she coasted down the eastern shores of England without
adventure. Several Danish vessels were seen arriving at or quitting the
coast, but the Dragon continued her course without heeding them, and
rounding the Forelands, sailed along the south coast and made her way
up the Parrot.
Upon inquiry they learnt that no event of any importance had taken
place during their absence. The Danes were complete masters of the
country. King Alfred was in hiding, none knew where. The greater
portion of the Danes were at their camp at Chippenham, but parties
roamed here and there through the land.
Dressed as countrymen, Edmund and Egbert made their way to Exeter, and
there arranged with some traders for the purchase of the less valuable
portion of the Dragons cargo. This consisted of rich clothing, silks
and other stuffs, wine, vestments, and altar hangings from churches,
arms and armour, hides and skins. The prices obtained were far below
the real value of the articles, for money was scarce, and none could
say when the Danes might again swoop down and clear out the contents of
the warehouses. Nevertheless the sum obtained was a large one for those
days, and this did not include the value of the gold and silver
goblets, salvers, vases, and utensils used in the celebration of
religious services.
Of these, spoiled from the houses of the wealthy, and the churches and
monasteries, they had obtained a considerable number. These were buried
in the wood near the lonely spot at which the Dragon was moored, the
rest of the cargo was sent in wagons--the more valuable portions hidden
under the hides and skins--to Exeter. The amount which had been
obtained from the cargo was divided as agreed before starting:
twenty-five shares were set apart for the king, twenty-five shares were
divided between the two leaders, and each soldier and sailor had one
share. All were well satisfied with the success of the adventure, and
with the damage which they had inflicted upon the Danes.
A fortnight's leave was given, for the men to visit their homes, and
the money which they had gained in their trip was of great use to their
friends in enabling them to repair the damages effected by the Danes.
Not a man was absent at the appointed time, and the Dragon again made
her way down to the sea.
It was midwinter now, and they cruised along the southern coast of
England without perceiving a single hostile sail. They lay for a week
off the mouth of the Thames, and then saw four large Danish vessels
making their way down the river. They were all vessels of the largest
size, strongly built, and full of men, and the Saxons judged them to be
too strong to be attacked in company. The Northmen, on seeing the
golden dragon flying at the mast-head of the Saxon ship, at once made
towards her, keeping in a close body; but the Dragon with sails and
oars easily left them behind, and the Danes giving up the pursuit
continued on their way.
The Dragon fell into their wake and followed at a distance, hoping that
one might prove slower than the others, or that they might in the night
get separated. At nightfall, however, the Danes lit cressets of tar and
hemp, which enabled them not only to keep close together, but sent out
a wide circle of light, so that they could perceive the Dragon should
she venture to approach.
For two days and nights the Dragon followed patiently.
"The weather is about to change," Egbert said on the third morning.
"Methinks that there is a storm brewing, and if this be so the Northmen
may well get separated, and we may pick up one away from her fellows."
Darker and darker grew the sky, and the wind soon blew in furious
gusts, raising a sea so heavy that the Saxons were obliged to lay in
their oars. By nightfall it was blowing a furious gale. In the
gathering darkness and the flying scud the ships of the Danes were lost
sight of; but this was of little consequence now, for the attention of
the Saxons was directed to their own safety.
For the next three days their position was one of the greatest danger.
With only a rag of sail set they ran before the gale from the
south-west. Every wave as it overtook them threatened the destruction
of the ship; but the Dragon, light and buoyant, and ably handled, rode
safely over the waves. On the fourth morning the wind was still blowing
fiercely, although its force had in some degree moderated. As the
daylight dawned Edmund and Egbert, who had hardly left the poop since
the storm began, looked anxiously ahead.
"Surely, Edmund, I see a dark mass ahead?" Egbert exclaimed.
For a minute or two Edmund gazed silently ahead.
"It is so, Egbert," he said; "it is a rocky coast. Do you not see a
white fringe below where the waves strike against it?"
As the light became clearer the imminence of their peril grew more
distinct. A lofty iron-bound coast rose in front of them, and extended
as far as the eye could reach on either hand. The seas broke with
terrible force against its base, sending its spray far up on the cliffs.
"Could we bring her about?" Edmund asked the chief of the sailors.
"It would be useless," the man said. "She could not make her way in the
teeth of this gale."
"That I see," Edmund said; "but at present we are rushing on to
destruction. If we bring her to the wind we may run some distance along
the coast before we are driven ashore, and may perceive some spot
towards which we may direct her with a chance of making land ere she
goes to pieces."
The sail was still further lessened and the ship's head brought round
parallel with the coast.
The Dragon laboured tremendously as the sea struck her full on the
beam, and every wave flooded her low waist. Each sea which struck her
lifted her bodily to leeward, and for every foot she sailed forward she
was driven one towards the coast. This was now but three miles distant,
and another hour would ensure her destruction; for none there hoped
that the anchors, even should they find bottom, could hold her for an
instant in the teeth of the gale. Every eye was directed towards the
shore, but no break could be seen in the wall of rock which rose almost
perpendicularly from the water.
"I fear it is hopeless," Edmund said to Egbert; "the strongest swimmer
would be dashed to pieces in an instant against those rocks."
"He would indeed," Egbert replied. "I wish now that we had boldly
engaged the four Danish ships. Far better would it have been for us to
have died fighting for England on her decks than to have perished here."
The time passed slowly. Every minute the Dragon was swept nearer and
nearer towards the rocks.
"She will just make that headland," the master sailor said, "and that
is all. Once round it we had best turn her head to the rocks. If the
cliffs rise as here sheer from the water, the moment she strikes will
be the last for all of us; but if the rocks are, as in some places,
piled high at the foot of the cliffs, a few may possibly manage to leap
from her forecastle as she strikes and to clamber up."
Scarce a word was spoken on board the Dragon as she came abreast of the
headland. It was but a few hundred yards away. The roar of the seas as
they struck its base sounded high above the din of the storm. Great
sheets of foam were thrown up to a vast height, and the turmoil of the
water from the reflux of the waves was so great that the Dragon was
tossed upon it like a cock-boat, and each man had to grasp at shroud or
bulwark to retain his footing.
Suddenly a cheer burst from end to end of the ship. Beyond the headland
a great gap was visible a quarter of a mile wide, as if the cliffs had
been rent in sunder by some tremendous convulsion, and a fiord was seen
stretching away in the bosom of the hills as far as the eye could
reach. The Dragon's head was turned, and soon she was flying before the
wind up the inlet. A mile farther and the fiord widened to a lake some
two miles across between steep hills clothed from foot to summit with
trees.
Its course was winding and they were soon sheltered from the gale and
were gliding quietly over comparatively tranquil water. Ten miles up
the anchor was let go in a sheltered inlet, and Edmund summoned the
whole crew to return thanks to God for their marvellous escape.
The Dragon had suffered severely in her conflict with the elements, her
large sails had been split or blown away, the bulwarks at her waist had
been shattered, and considerable damage done to her gear and fittings.
Four-and-twenty hours were allowed to the men for rest after their
labours, and then all hands were set to work to refit.
The next morning Edmund said to his kinsman:
"I will take two of the men and go ashore to hunt; there should be wild
boar and deer in these forests, and all would be glad of some fresh
meat."
"Be careful, Edmund; remember you are in the country of our enemies,
for without doubt this land to which we have been blown is Norway; and
although we can see no signs of habitations there may well be villages
somewhere among these hills."
"I will be careful," Edmund said, laughing; "and if I do not return in
two days do you set sail without me. I should like to discover the
abode of some Northern jarl; it would indeed be a grand retaliation to
give them a taste of the sufferings they have inflicted upon us."
"That would be good work," Egbert said; "nevertheless I own that at
present I am anxious to be at sea again."
"Two days will be sufficient to refit," Edmund said, "and then we will
spread our wings. Good-bye, Egbert, I will be back by sunset, and I
hope with a deer or two."
Selecting a couple of followers, both skilled with the bow, and all
being armed with spears, Edmund leapt ashore, for the water was deep up
to the rocks, and the Dragon had been moored alongside for the
convenience of taking on board the wood for the repairs.
Although those on board the Dragon guessed it not, many eyes were
watching them. A small fishing village lay at the edge of the fiord a
mile or two beyond the inlet in which the ship was moored. Hidden as
they were among the trees the huts had not been noticed by the Saxons,
but the strange ship had been seen by some of those in the village, and
the fishermen at once pronounced that whencesoever she might have come
she was assuredly no Northman's ship. Messengers had immediately been
sent to the villages among the hills. These were widely scattered, and
it was not until the day after the ship's arrival that a force was
collected which was deemed sufficient to attack it. Already, as Edmund
leapt ashore, the Norsemen were making their way quietly through the
forest towards the Dragon.
Edmund had advanced but a few hundred yards up the hillside when a
large party of Norsemen suddenly sprang upon him. Two Saxon arrows flew
true to their marks, then the Danes rushed upon them. So far no words
had been spoken, but Edmund placed to his lips the whistle with which
he gave orders on board the ship and blew a long shrill note, and then
shouted at the top of his voice:
"The Danes! the Danes! push off!"
The instant afterwards he was attacked. He and his men fought bravely,
but in a few seconds the latter were cut down and Edmund was levelled
to the ground by a tremendous blow from a club.
A minute later the din of battle rose by the water's side; Edmund's
whistle and shout had been heard, and the Saxons on shore sprang on
board and seized their spears and bows just as the Danes poured down
through the trees. For a time the Saxons defended the ship against the
desperate attempts of the Danes to gain footing on her; but seeing the
number of its assailants, and being certain that Edmund was killed or
captured, Egbert ordered the ropes to be cut, and the Dragon was thrust
away from the rocks. The oars were then got out and she rowed out of
bow-shot from the shore. Then Egbert held a consultation with the
leading men among the Saxons.
All on board were filled with grief at the loss of their young leader,
but they felt that nothing could be done for him, and it would be but
courting danger to remain longer in the fiord. Since so large a force
had been collected in the forest news might have been sent to the
ports, and at any moment they might see a fleet of the Northmen's
galleys barring their retreat; therefore with bitter grief and
lamentation the Dragon's sails were hoisted and she made her way to sea.
"My only consolation is," Egbert said, "that if the brave lad is not
killed at once he may yet find his way back to England. He is ready of
wit and full of invention that, if any can possibly extricate
themselves from such a strait, it is assuredly he; but I fear that he
fell in the first onslaught. Brave lad, even in the moment of his own
peril he thought first of us. Had it not been for his timely warning we
should have been taken unawares, and many must have been killed even if
the Dragon herself escaped capture."
The storm had entirely abated, and the waters sparkled brightly in the
cold January sun as the Dragon sailed out between the two headlands
into the sea. Very different were the feelings of the crew to those
which had animated them when, two days before, they had passed through
the channel; then every heart beat with joy and thankfulness; now the
deepest depression and grief reigned on board.
Edmund was adored by his followers. His kindness as their ealdorman,
his skill and bravery as a leader, his cheerfulness and brightness
under every d
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