CHAPTER VIII. THE FIRES OF STERT.
I went along the highroad now, for it was dark, and few were about. Onlynow and then I met a little party of men hurrying to the gatheringplace, and mostly they spoke to me, asking for news. And from them Ilearned, too, that nothing had been seen, while daylight served, of theDanes. Once, I had to say I was on Osric's errand, as he bade me, beingquestioned as to why I was heading away from the town.
I could not see my hall as I passed close by its place, for the lightsthat ever shone thence in the old days, so lately, yet seeming so long,gone, were quenched. But I thought of a safe place whence to watch ifthe Danes came, where were trees in which I might hide if need were, asI had hidden this morning. This was on the little spur of hill men callby the name of the fisher's village below it, Combwich. It looked on allthe windings of Parret river, and there would I soon know if landing wasto be made for attack on Bridgwater. But I thought it likely that therewould be an outpost of our men there for the same reason, and goingthither went carefully.
Sure enough there was a little watchfire and half a dozen men round iton the best outlook, and so I passed on still further, following roundthe spur of hill till I came to where the land overlooks the whole longtongue of Stert Point. That would do as well for me, I thought, andchoosing, as best I could in the dark, a tree into which I knew byremembrance that I might easily get, I sat down at its foot, lookingseaward.
Now by this time the tide, which runs very strong and swiftly, must beflowing again, and I thought that most likely the Danes, having anchoredduring the ebb, would go on up channel with it, and that therefore Imight have to hang about here for days before they landed, even werethey to land at all. And this I had heard said many times by the men ofthe levy, some, indeed, saying that they might as well go home again.
But I should do as well here as anywhere, or better, since, whileMatelgar was away, I might yet see Alswythe again; though that, after myrepulse by the sheriff, or perhaps I should rather say by his advisers,I thought not of trying yet. It would but be another parting. Still, Imight find old Wulfhere, and send her messages by him before setting outwestward again.
Almost was I dozing, for the day had been very long, when from close toStert came that which roused me completely, setting my heart beating.
It was a bright flash of light from close inshore, on the Severn side ofthe tongue, followed by answering flashes, just as I had seen them atWatchet. But now the flashes came and went out instantly, for I was nolonger looking down on the ship's decks as then.
Well was it that I had seen this before from Quantock heights; for Iknew that once again the Danes were landing, and that the peril wasclose at hand.
Then at once I knew the terrible danger of Alswythe, for Matelgar's wasthe first hall that would be burnt.
My first thought was to hasten thither and alarm Wulfhere, and then tohurry back to that outpost I had passed half a mile away, for thecountry danger must be thought of too.
Then a better thought than either came to me. If it was, as it must be,barely half tide, the Danes would find mud between them and shore, toodeep to cross, and must wait till the ships could come up to land, oruntil there was water enough to float their boats. I had an hour or moreyet before they set foot on shore.
Moreover, I would find out if landing was indeed meant, or if these werebut signals for keeping channel on the outward course.
So across the level meadows of Stert I ran my best, right towards theplace where I had seen the light, which was at the top, as it were, ofthe wedge that Stert makes between the waters of Parret and the greaterSevern Sea. There are high banks along the shore to keep out the springtides, and under these I could watch in safety, unseen. Three fishers'huts were there only; but these I knew would be deserted for fear of theDanes.
So I found them, and then, creeping up the bank, I stood still andpeered out into the darkness. Yet it was not so dark on the water (whichgleamed a little in the tide swirls here and there beyond half a mile ofmud, black as pitch in contrast) but that I could make out at last sixlong black ships, lying as it seemed on the edge of the ooze. And Icould hear, too, hoarse voices crying out on board of them, and now andthen the rattle of anchor chains or the like, when the wind blew fromthem to me.
And ever those ships crept nearer to me, so that I knew they were edgingup to the land as the tide rose.
That learnt, I knew what to do. I ran to the nearest fishers' hut, andpulled handfuls of the thatch from under the eaves, piling it towindward against the wooden walls. Then I fired the heap, and it blazedup bright and strong, and at once came a great howl of rage from theships, plain to be heard, for they knew that now they might not landunknown.
So had I warned Osric the Sheriff, and that matter was out of my hands.And, moreover, Wulfhere, being an old and tried warrior, would be warnedas well. That, however, I would see to myself, and, if I could, I wouldaid him in getting Alswythe into a place of safety. So I ran back,bending my steps now towards her father's hall, up the roadway, if onemight so call the track through the marshland that led thither.
Just at the foot of the hill I met three men of the outpost, who werehurrying down to see what my fire meant. They challenged me, haltingwith levelled spears across the track. Then was I glad of the password,and answered by giving it.
"Right!" said the man who seemed to be the leader. "What news?"
I told him quickly, bidding him waste no time, but hurry back and tellthe sheriff that the Danes would be ashore in half an hour. I spoke as Iwas wont to speak when I was a thane, forgetting in the dire need of themoment that I was an outlaw now, and the man was offended thereat.
"Who are you to command me thus?" he said shortly.
"Heregar, the thane of Cannington." said I, still only anxious that heshould go quickly.
"Heard one ever the like!" said the man, and then I remembered.
I looked round at my fire. Two huts were burning now, very brightly, forthe wind fanned the flames.
"Saw you ever the like?" I said, and pointed. "Now, will you go?"
The bright light shone on a row of flashing, gilded dragon heads on theships' stems--on lines of starlike specks beyond them, which werehelms and mail coats--and on lines again of smaller stars above, whichwere spear points.
"Holy saints!" cried the man, adding a greater oath yet; "be you Heregarthe outlaw or no, truth you tell, and well have you done. Let us begone,men!"
And with that those three leapt away into the darkness up the hill,leaving me to follow if I listed.
That was not my way, however, and I ran on to Matelgar's hall.
One stood at the gate. It was Wulfhere. Inside I heard the trampling ofhorses, and knew that they would be ready in time. Wulfhere laid hand onsword as I came up, doubting if I were not a Dane, but I cried to himwho I was, and he came out a step or two to me, asking for news.
And when I told him what I had seen and done, he, too, said I had donewell, and that I had saved Alswythe, if not many more. Also, that he hadsent a man to tell Matelgar of his plans. Then he told me that even nowthe horses were ready, and that he was about to abandon the place, goingto the house of that thane of whom I had told him. And I said that Iwould go some way with him, and then return to join the levy, makingknown my ill-luck with Osric.
"Ho!" said he; "it was well he sent you away, as it seems to me."
That was the word of the old crone, I remembered, that it should be so.
Then came a soft touch on my arm, and on turning I saw Alswythe standingby me, wrapped in a long cloak, and ready. And neither I nor she thoughtshame that I should lay my arm round her, and kiss her there, with thegrim old housecarle standing by and pretending to look out over Stert,where the light of my fires shone above the trees.
"Heregar, my loved one, what does it all mean?" she said, trembling alittle. "Have they come?"
I folded my arm more closely round her, and would have answered, butthat Wulfhere did so for me.
"Aye, lady, and it i
s to Heregar that we owe our safety, for he has beendown to Stert and warned us all."
At that my love crept closer to me, as it were to thank me. Then she said:
"Will there be fighting? And will my father have to fight?"
"Aye, lady," said Wulfhere again, "as a good Saxon should."
"Must I go from here?" she asked again; and I told her that the housewould be burnt, maybe, in an hour or so.
At that she shivered, and tried not to weep, being very brave.
"Where must we go?" she said, with a little tremble in her voice.
I told her where we would take her, and then she cried out that she mustbide near at hand lest her father should be hurt, and none to tend him.
And Wulfhere and I tried a little to overpersuade her, but then a groomcame to say that all was ready.
And, truly, no time must be lost, if we would get off safely.
Then I said that it would be safe to go to Bridgwater, for then weshould be behind the levy, and that the Danes must cut through thatbefore reaching us. And to that Wulfhere agreed, for I knew he wouldrather be swinging his sword against the Danes at Stert than flyingthrough the woods of the Quantocks.
Alswythe thanked me, without words indeed, and then in a few minutes shewas mounted, and we were going up towards the high road to Bridgwater.We had twelve horses, and on them were the women of the house, bearingwhat valuables they might, as Wulfhere had bade them. One horse carriedtwo women, but they were a light burden, and we had no such terriblehaste to make, seeing that every moment brought us nearer the levy.There were the men and boys as well, but they led the beasts.
Now when we reached the high road, some half mile away, suddenlyAlswythe reined up her horse, by which I walked, giving a little cry,and I asked what it was.
Then she said, sobbing a little, that she would her cows were driven outinto the forest where they were wont to feed, lest the cruel Danesshould get them. And to please her I think I should myself have goneback, but that Wulfhere called one of the men, who, it seemed, was thecowherd, bidding him return and do this, if the Danes were not comingyet. Glad enough was I to hear the man say that he had done it already--"for no Dane should grow fat on beasts of his tending, and they werea mile off by now."
So we went on, and every minute I looked to meet our levy advancing. Butthe moon rose, and shone on no line of glancing armour that I longedfor, and Wulfhere growled to himself as he went. I would have asked himmany questions, but would not leave Alswythe, lest she should bealarmed. And all the way, as we went, I told her of what had befallen mewith Osric, saying only that her father was there, but had not been ableto speak for me. And I told her of the old crone's words, which shethought would surely come true, all of them, as they had begun to do so.
It is a long five miles from Matelgar's place to the town, and we couldonly travel at a foot's pace. But still we met no force. Indeed, untilwe were just a half mile thence, we saw no one. Then we met a picket,who, seeing we were fugitives, let us go on unchallenged.
But Wulfhere stopped and questioned the men, and got no pleasant answeras it seemed, for he caught us up growling, coming alongside of me, andsaying--for Alswythe could not know the ways of war--that they wouldattack with morning light. But I felt only too keenly, though I knew solittle, that to fight the Danes when they had their foot firmly ashore,was a harder matter than to meet them but just landed.
We were so close to the town now that I asked Alswythe where she wouldbe taken. Already we were passing groups of fugitives from the nearercountry, and the town would be full of them, to say nothing of the menof the levy.
She thought a little, and then asked me if she might not go to herfather, wherever he was. But I told her that he was but a guest ofOsric, as it seemed. Then she said that she would go to her aunt, whowas the prioress of the White Nuns, and bide in the nunnery walls tillall was safe. And that seemed a good plan, both to me and Wulfhere, forit would--though this we said not to Alswythe--set us free to fight,as there we might not come, and she would be safe without us.
Then I told Wulfhere how we could reach that house without going throughthe crowded town, and so turned to the right, skirting round in thequiet lanes.
The gray dawn began to break as we saw the nunnery before us, and it wasvery cold. But Alswythe pointed to a crimson glow behind us, as wetopped the last rise, saying that the sun would be up soon.
Wulfhere and I looked at each other. That glow was not in the east, butshone from Matelgar's hall--in flames.
And then we feigned cheerfulness, and said that it would be so; andAlswythe smiled on me, though she was pale and overwrought with theterror she would not show, and the long, dark, and cold journey.
We came to the nunnery gate and knocked; and the old portress looked outof the wicket and asked our business, frightened at the glint of mailshe saw. But Alswythe's voice she knew well, as she answered, begginglodging for herself and her maidens, till this trouble was over.
It was no new thing for a lady of rank to come into that quiet retreatwith her train when on a journey; and after a little time, while theportress told the prioress, the doors were thrown open, and we rode intothe great courtyard, where torches burnt in the dim gray morning light.
Then came the prioress, mother's sister to Alswythe, a tall andnoble-looking lady, greeting her and us kindly, and so promising safetending to her niece so long as she needed.
Here Alswythe must part from me, giving me but her hand to kiss, as alsoto Wulfhere, but there was a warm pressure on my hand for myself alonethat bided with me. And the prioress thanked us for our care, notknowing me in the half light, and in mail, and so were we left in thecourtyard, where an old lay brother, brought from the near monastery,showed us the stabling and provender for our horses, and the loft wherethe men should sleep, outside the walls of the inclosed building.
Here Wulfhere bade the men and boys remain, tending their horses untilhe should return, or until orders came from their master himself or fromthe lady Alswythe; for they were thralls, and not men who should be withthe levy.
Then he and I went out into the roadway and walked away until we werealone.
"What now?" I asked.
"I must join my master, telling him what I have done, and that the ladyis safe. So shall I march with the rest most likely. What shall I say ofyour part in this?"
"Nought," I answered.
"Maybe that is best--just now," he agreed.
We had come to the town streets now, and they seemed empty. The lightwas strong enough by this time, and there came a sound of shouting fromthe place of the market cross, and then we heard the bray of war horns,and Wulfhere quickened his pace, saying that the men were mustering, ormaybe on the march.
Then I longed to go with him, but that might not be. So I left him atlast, saying that I should surely join in the fight.
I had not gone six paces from him when he called me, and I could seethat he looked anxious.
"Master," he said, "this is going to be a doubtful fight as it seems tome. Yon Danes know that the country is raised, but yet they have comeback, and they mean to fight. Now our levy is raw, and has nodiscipline, and I doubt it will be as it was at Charnmouth. If that isso, Bridgwater will be no safe place for the lady Alswythe. She must begot hence with all speed."
"Shall you not return and hide with her?" I asked.
"That is as the master bids," said he, and then he added, looking at medoubtfully, "I would you were not so bent on this fight."
Then was I torn two ways--by my longing to strike a blow for Wessex,and by my love for my Alswythe and care for her safety. And I knew notwhat to say. Wulfhere understood my silence, and then decided for me.
"You have hearkened to me before, master, and now I will speak again.Get you to your place of last night on Combwich Hill, and there look onthe fight; or, if it be nearer this, find such a place as you know.Then, if there is victory for us, all is well: but if not, you could notaid with your one strength to regain it. Then will Alswythe n
eed you."
"I would fain fight," I said, still doubting.
"Aye, master; but already have you done well, and deserved well of thesheriff, and of all. He bade you fight not today--let it be so. Thereis loyalty also in obedience, and ever must some bide with the thingsone holds dear."
"I will do as you say," said I shortly, and so I turned and went.
He stood and looked after me for a little, and then he too hurried awaytowards the cross. Then I skirted round the town, and waited at thatplace where I had met with the old woman, until I saw the van of ourforces marching down the road towards Cannington. These I kept up withby hurrying from point to point alongside the road, as best I might.
They were a gallant show to look on, gay with banners and bright armour.Yet I had heard of the ways of armies, and thought to see them marchingin close order and in silence. But they were in a long line with manygaps, and here and there the mounted thanes rode to and fro, seeminglytrying to make them close up. And they sang and shouted as they went.
When we came to the steep rise of Cannington hill, some of those thanesspurred on and rode to the summit, and there waited a little, till themen joined them. There was silence, and a closing up as they breastedthe steep pitch; and then I must go through woods, and so lost sight ofthem for a while. I passed close to my own hall--closed and deserted.Every soul in all the countryside had fled into the town, though afterthe levy came a great mixed crowd of thralls and the like to see the fray.
Now here I thought to cross in the rear of the force that I might reachCombwich hill. But that was not to be.
When I saw the array again it was halted, and the men were closing up.And between the levy and that crowd of followers was a great gap, andsome of these last were making for the shelter of swamp and wood. Imyself was on a little rise of heathy land and could see plainly beforeme the road going up over the neck of Combwich hill in the steep-sidednotch there is there, where the ascent is easiest.
And that road was barred halfway up the hillside by a close-rankedcompany, on which the sun shone brightly, showing scarlet cloaks andgilded helms not only on the roadway, but flanking the hills on eitherside. These were the Danes, and behind them, over the hill, rose thesmoke from Matelgar's burnt home.
Even as I looked, a great roar of defiance came from our men; but theDanes made no answer, standing still and silent. And that seemedterrible to me. So for a moment they stood, and then, as at some signal,from them broke out that deep chant with its terrible swinging melody,that had come faintly to me from Watchet haven.
Then our men rushed forward, and even where I stood I could hear thecrash of arms on shields as the lines met--the ringing of the chime ofwar--and our men fought uphill.
And now it needed all my force to keep myself, for Alswythe's sake, fromjoining in that fray, and presently, when I would take my hand from mysword hilt, it was stiff and cramped from clutching hard upon it, as Iwatched those two lines swaying, and heard the yells of the fighters.
And indeed I should surely have joined, but there came a voice to me:
"Bide here in patience, Heregar, the king's thane! There is work for youyet that fighting will hinder."
And the old crone, Gundred, who had come I know not how, laid her handon my arm.
"Look at the tide, Heregar, look at the tide!" she said, pointing toParret river, where the mud banks lay bare and glistening with thefalling water. "Let them drive these Danes back to their stranded ships,and how many will go home again to Denmark, think you?"
And I prayed that this might be so: for I knew she spoke truth. If theymight not reach their ships, and became penned in on Stert, they werelost--every one, for none might cross the deep ooze.
"Not this time, Heregar. Remember, when the time comes," she said.
And I paid no heed to her. For now horses were galloping riderless alongthe road and into the fields. And men were crawling back from the fight,to fall exhausted in the rear, and then--then the steadfast line ofthe scarlet-cloaked Danes charged down the hill, driving our men likesheep before them.
"Up and to your work!" said the crone, pointing towards Bridgwater; andI, who had already made two steps, with drawn sword, towards thatbroken, flying rabble, remembered Alswythe, and turned away, groaning,to hasten to her rescue. For it was, as Wulfhere had said, all that Icould do.
Swiftly I went, turning neither to right nor left along the road,hearing always behind me the cries of those who fled, and the savageshouts of the pursuing vikings. I was in the midst of that crowd ofthralls once, but they thinned, taking to the woods whence I had come;while I kept on.
Then I saw one of those horses, a great white steed, standing, snorting,by the wayside where he had stopped, and I spoke to him, and he let mecatch and mount him, and so I rode on.
Yet when I came to the top of Cannington Hill I looked back. All theroad was full of our men, flying; and a thought came into my head, and Idared to draw rein and wait for them, linking my mail again across my face.
They came up, panting, and wild with panic, and there with voice andhand I bade them stand on that vantage ground and block the way againstthe Danes; bidding them remember the helpless ones in the town, who musthave time to fly, and how the Danes must needs shrink from a secondfight after hot pursuit.
And there is that in a Saxon's stubborn heart which bade them heed me,and there they formed up again, wild with rage and desperate, and theline grew thicker and firmer as more came up, with the sheriff himself,till the foremost pursuing Danes recoiled, and some were slain, and Iknew that the flight was over.
Then I slipped from my horse and made my way on foot, lest men shouldnotice my going, but the horse followed me, and soon I mounted him againand galloped on.
Then I found that though I had not noticed it, my mail had fallen apart:but I knew not if any had known me, or even had noted who I might be.
So I came to Bridgwater, bringing terror with me, as men gathered whathad befallen from my haste. Yet I stayed for none; but went on to thenunnery.
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