Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune

by A. D. Crake

capable of charging any imaginable barrier: and it became almosta pure calculation, not of the respective bravery of the troops, fornone were cowards on either side, but of mere physical laws of force andresistance.

  Elfric scarcely looked where he was going. He saw a shining lance point,about to impale him, he diverted it by his sword blade, as he washurried into the midst of axes, swords, lances, and beheld the warrioropposite to him in the second rank raise his axe to inflict a fearfulblow, which would have severed his horse's neck, had not an arrowtransfixed the foe.

  The wedge seemed partly broken, and the king had begun to exult in theanticipation of speedy victory, when from behind each end of theentrenchment rushed two bodies of hostile cavalry; they fell upon Edwy'sforces in the rear, and in a few moments all was confusion.

  The warriors of Edgar rallied, drove the horse out of their lines,advanced slowly, and the horsemen of the rival brothers, mingledtogether in deadly strife, in personal combat, where each man seemed tohave sought and found his individual foe.

  They moved slowly down the bill towards the brook, man after man fallingand dotting the green sward of the hill with struggling, writhing bodies.

  Meanwhile, Cynewulf was attempting to rally the flying foot, which hadbeen cut almost in two by the charge of the Mercian cavalry: hesucceeded, with great difficulty, in doing so at the brook which ranalong the bottom of the valley, and, with the stream in their front,they prepared to afford a refuge to their own, and to resist the hostilehorse.

  Edwy saw the opportunity, and, raising himself in his stirrups, calledupon his friends to follow him: he leapt the brook, and galloped roundbehind the foot, where nearly all the unwounded horsemen followed him.He had fought well, had slain more than one foe with his own royal hand,as became a descendant of Cerdic, and now he but retired to organiseanother and stouter resistance to the daring foe.

  But he was forced to admit now that Cynewulf was right in hisconjecture, and that they were utterly outnumbered, for the foe pouredforth from their entrenchment and advanced in good order down the slope;while the Mercian cavalry, forming in two detachments to the left andright, crossed the brook and charged along its banks upon the flanks ofthe Wessex infantry, at the same moment.

  The warrior upon whose advice Edwy had been told to depend had fallen:he was left to his own resources. Alas! he forgot he was a commander,and, waving his plumed cap as a signal for his brother knights tofollow, charged upon the horsemen who were advancing up stream at likespeed, forgetting that a similar body was advancing in the oppositedirection, and that as all his force were following his lead, theopposite flank of the foot was unprotected.

  In a single minute they were all engaged in the fiercest melee whichimagination can well paint, fighting as furiously as men of the sameblood only seem to fight when once the claims of kindred are cast aside.Swords ascended and descended with deadly violence; horses raisedthemselves up on their hind legs, and, catching the deadly enthusiasm,seemed to engage their fellows; riders fell, sternly repressing thegroan which pain would extort, while their steeds, less self controlled,uttered, when wounded, those ear-piercing cries only heard from theanimals in deadly terror or pain.

  In the midst of this tumult Elfric engaged a Mercian of superior sizeand strength; it was his second personal encounter; in his first, he hadseen his adversary fall with a warrior's stern joy, but now he wasovermatched; borne down by an arm twice as strong as his own, his guardwas broken down, and a deadly blow laid open his shoulder, cutting theveins in the neck of his horse at the same fell sweep. The animal,blinded with blood, staggered, fell, and he was down amongst the horses'feet, confined by one leg, for his horse rolled partly upon him in itsdying struggles; while he felt the hoofs of other chargers in closeproximity to his heed.

  A loud cry, "They fly! They fly! Victory! Victory!" reached him eventhen. He well knew from which party the cries must proceed, and that hewas left to the mercy of the victorious Mercians.

  It was even so; the charge of the hostile cavalry on the left flank hadbroken down the ranks of the infantry on that side; the hostile foot hadcontrived to cross the brook in the confusion, and all was lost.

  The reserve now came rapidly forward, but, seeing at a glance the stateof things, retired to defend the entrenched camp, so as to give the kingand his broken and routed followers time to escape, while they made goodthe defence with their lives. So they retired at once into the camp,whither Edwy and his few surviving companions galloped a moment after them.

  Edwy was unhurt; he dismounted: his fair face flushed to a fiery redwith heat and excitement, he leapt on the entrenchment and looked on theplain. He saw those of his own followers who had not yet made good theirescape, ridden down, cut to pieces, slaughtered in the excitement of themoment without mercy; the sight stung him, be would have sallied out totheir defence, but Cynewulf, who was yet living, met him in the gateway,and sternly seized the bridle of his steed.

  "My lord and king," he said; "your life is precious to Wessex, you maynot throw it away."

  "I cannot see my followers slaughtered: loose my bridle, I command you;"and he raised his sword impetuously.

  "You may cut me down, and so reward my faithful service; but, living,you shall not pass me on your road to destruction. My lord, I am oldenough to be your father."

  But there was one gay young noble present, who knew better than Cynewulfthe key to Edwy's heart. He was one of the boon companions we have beenbefore introduced to; but he had fought, poor young fellow, gallantlyall that day, and now he could fight no longer: Edwy saw him reel andfall from his horse.

  "Elfgar!" he said; as he strove to raise his friend and subject from theground--"not seriously wounded I hope!"

  "Dying, and for my king, as is my duty let a dying voice reach you, mydear lord. Save yourself if you would save Elgiva, if you--if you--"the words came broken and faint "--are slain, she will be at the mercyof her deadly foes."

  His head fell helplessly down upon his shoulder, and ere the king couldmake any reply, he saw that he was indeed past hope.

  But his dying words had sunk deeply into the heart of Edwy.

  "Poor Elfgar! he was right. O Elgiva! Elgiva! this is a sad day for thee."

  "Return then to her, my lord," said Cynewulf. "See, they are preparingnow to assault the camp; I can hold it for hours, and if you are nothere, I can make good terms with our foes; but, if you stay, you butembarrass us: ride out, my liege."

  "And desert my subjects?"

  "They will all acquit you: haste, my lord, haste, before they surroundthe camp, for your fair queen's sake, or you are lost."

  "Come, my men, we must fly," said Edwy, sullenly; and he led the wayreluctantly to the back of the camp.

  The road was partly encumbered with fugitives, but not wholly, as mostof them sought the entrenched camp. Cynewulf accompanied him to thegate, where he stopped to give one last piece of advice.

  "Fly, my lord, for Wessex at once; lose no time; the best route will bethe Foss Way; they will not suspect that you have taken that direction.Ride day and night; if you delay anywhere you are lost."

  "Farewell, faithful and wise counsellor. Odin and Thor send that we maymeet again;" and Edwy with only a dozen followers rode out at full speed.

  The Mercians had not yet reached that side of the camp, which wasconcealed by woods which were clear of all enemies, and he rode on rapidly.

  "What has become of Elfric, my Leofric?" he said to one of his faithfultrain.

  "I fear me he is dead: I saw him fall in the last struggle."

  "Poor Elfric! poor Elfric! then his forebodings have come true; he willnever see his father again."

  "It is all fortune and fate, and none can resist his doom, my lord,"said Leofric.

  "But Elfric; yes, I loved Elfric. I would I had never left that fatalfield."

  "Think, my lord, of Elgiva."

  "Yes, Elgiva--she is left to me and left all is left. Ride faster,Leofric, I fancy I hear pursuers."

  They had, at Cynewu
lf's suggestion, taken fresh horses from the reserve,and had little cause to fear pursuit. In an hour they reached the FossWay and rode along the route described in our former chapter, until,reaching the frontiers of the territory of the old Dobuni, they left theFoss, and rode by the Roman trackway which we have previously described,until they turned into a road which brought them deep into Oxfordshire.Here they were in a territory which had been a debateable land betweenMercia and Wessex, where the sympathies of the people were not stronglyenlisted on either side and they were comparatively safe.

  They passed Kirtlington; rested at Oxenford, then rode throughDorchester and Bensington to Reading, whence they struck southward forWinchester, where Edwy rested from his fatigue in the society of Elgiva.

  So ended the ill-advised raid into Mercia.

  CHAPTER XIX. EARTH TO EARTH, AND DUST TO DUST.

  Although Edwy and his little troop had been successful in gaining themain road, and in escaping into Wessex, yet few of his followers hadbeen so fortunate, and his broken forces were seeking safety and escapein all directions, wanderers in a hostile country. A large number founda refuge in the entrenched camp; but it was surrounded by the foe inless than half-an-hour after the king's escape, and all ingress oregress was thenceforth impossible.

  While one large body fled eastward towards the Watling Street, thesoldiers who had accompanied the king to Aescendune naturally turnedtheir thoughts in that direction. It was, as they had seen, capable of along defence--well provisioned, and already partly garrisoned; norcould they doubt the joy with which their old companions would receivethem, either to share in the defence of the post, or to accompany themin an honourable retreat southward.

  So, not only those who survived of the fifty who had left Aescendune theprevious morning, but all whom they could persuade to join them,actuated separately by the same considerations, made their way in smalldetachments through the forest towards the hall. Redwald had thoroughlyearned the confidence of all his warriors, and they would follow him todeath or victory with equal devotion. Now, in adversity, they onlysought to put themselves once more under the rule of their talented anddaring chieftain.

  Therefore it was that while Father Cuthbert was yet kneeling in thechapel, where the body of the departed thane had been placed, thedevotions of the good priest were disturbed by the blowing of horns andthe loud shout whereby the first fugitives sought admittance into thecastle.

  Redwald had also been up nearly all night pacing his room, mutteringincoherently to himself. Over and over again he regarded intently alocket containing a solitary tress of grey hair, and once or twice theword "Avenged" rose to his lips.

  "And they little know," said he, soliloquising, "who the avenger is, orwhat have been his wrongs; little know they how the dead is representedin the halls of his sire--blind! blind! Whichever way the victoryeventually turn, he is avenged."

  While he thus soliloquised he was aroused by the same noise which haddisturbed Father Cuthbert's devotions, and, recognising its source,betook himself to the gateway, where some of his own soldiers were onguard, who, true to discipline, awaited his permission to allow theircomrades to enter: it is needless to say it was readily given.

  Broken and dispirited was the little troop of ten or a dozen men, whofirst appeared in this manner after the fight; their garments torn andbloody, some of them wounded, they yet raised a shout of joy as they sawtheir trusted leader.

  "Whence come ye, my comrades in arms?" said he, "and what are your news--you look like men who have fled from battle."

  "We did not fly till all was lost."

  The countenance of Redwald indicated some little emotion, though it wastransient as the lightning's flash in the summer night.

  "The king--is it well with him?"

  "He has fled with a small troop to the south."

  "Saw you aught of Elfric of Aescendune?"

  "He fell in the last charge of the cavalry."

  "Dead?"

  "We think so."

  "How is it that you have suffered yourselves to be beaten?"

  "Had you been there it might have ended differently. We became theaggressors, and attacked a superior force, while they had all theadvantage of ground."

  "Come in. You must first have some food and wine; then you shall tell meall. We may need your help here, and shall be glad of every able-bodiedman."

  "More are on the road."

  And so it proved, for party after party continued to fall in. The solemnquiet, which so well befitted the house of mourning, was banished by thepresence of the soldiery in such large numbers, for early in the daynearly a hundred and fifty were gathered together, and accommodationthreatened to fall short.

  Under these circumstances the lady Edith became very anxious that eitherthe departure of her unwelcome guests should be hastened, or that theloved remains should be removed at once to the priory church, where shecould bemoan her grief in quiet solitude, and be alone with her belovedand God. There seemed no rest or peace possible in the hall, and Redwaldwas apportioning all the accommodation to his followers as they came,preserving only the private apartments of the lady Edith from intrusion.

  She was still expecting the arrival of Elfric, for Redwald had notcommunicated the news he had received, and she did not even know thatKing Edwy had been defeated; so absorbed was she in her grief, that shedid not note the thousand little circumstances which might have told heras much.

  But before the hour of terce, Alfred came into the room where she wasseated with her daughter, and she saw by his troubled countenance thathe had something to communicate which pained him to tell.

  "Elfric!" she said--"he is well?"

  "He has not come yet, my mother; and I grieve to say that we weredeceived yesterday--deceived about the battle."

  "How so?"

  "The king was defeated; he has fled southward, and there has been agreat slaughter."

  "But Elfric?"

  "No one can tell me anything about him," said Alfred, wringing hishands. "Mother, you must leave this place."

  "Leave our home--and now?"

  "They talk of defending it against the forces of the Etheling Edgar, whohas been declared king; and we should all be in great danger."

  "But will they stay here against our will?"

  "Yes; for they say their lives depend upon it, that the Mercians scourall the country round about, that all the roads are now occupied andguarded, so that they can only hope to defend this place until they canmake terms with the King of Mercia, as they call Edgar, who is likely tobe acknowledged by all north of the Thames. The curse of the Church is,they say, upon Edwy."

  "Father Cuthbert is still here, is he not?--what does he advise? whereshall we go?"

  "He says we can have the old house in which he, and the mass-thanes [xxix]before him, lived while as yet the priory was incompleteor unbuilt. It is very comfortable, and close to the church."

  "But to take him so soon from his home!"

  "They will place him in God's house, before the altar; there could notbe a better place where they or we could wish his dear remains to awaitthe last rites upon earth."

  At that moment Father Cuthbert entered the room unannounced.

  "Pardon me, my revered lady," he began; "but I grieve to say that yoursafety demands instant action, and must excuse my intrusion; your lifeand liberty are no longer safe here."

  "Life and liberty?"

  "There is some foul plot to detain you all here, on pretence your safetyrequires it. I have been this morning to Redwald, and he refusespermission for any one to leave the place, asserting that thus only canhe assure your safety. Now, it is plain that if the place comes to bebesieged you would be far safer in the priory or the old priests' house.Our own countrymen would not injure us."

  "He will not detain us by force?"

  "I would not trust to that; but we must meet guile by guile. I havepretended to be content on your behalf and he is just going to leave thehall, with the greater part of his followers, to collect pr
ovisions andcattle. I have told him that the Grange farm is well stocked; he hascaught the bait, and is going to superintend the work of spoliation inperson: far better, in the present need, that he should rob the estatethan that a hair of your head or of those of your children should perish."

  "But why do you suspect him of evil?"

  "I cannot tell you now. I have overheard dark, dark speeches. So soon ashe has gone, Alfred and I must summon all your own people who are in thehall. We will then bring the body forth, and follow it ourselves; as weshall outnumber those left behind I do not imagine they will dare, inhis absence, to interfere with our progress."

  "I will go at once," said Alfred, "and summon the household."

  "No; you would be observed. I am older and perhaps a little morediscreet. Stay with your mother till all is ready."

  Alfred reluctantly obeyed, and Father Cuthbert went forth. So great wastheir anxiety that it almost banished the power of prayer, save suchmental shafts as could be sent heavenward in each interval of thought.

  At last Alfred, who was at the window, saw Redwald and his followers--nearly a hundred in number--leave the castle and ride across towardsthe forest in the direction of the farm in question. Another moment andFather Cuthbert entered.

  "Are you ready? If so, follow me."

  He took them by a private passage into the chapel, where four menalready stood by the bier, ready to head the procession, and thirty orforty others were gathered in the chapel or about the door--their ownvassals, good and true. They all were armed.

  Father Cuthbert ascended the wooden tower above the chapel, which servedas a bell cot. He