by A. D. Crake
myself the legitimateheir."
"We do not dispute your title; give my brother his life and liberty, andtake all; we have never injured you."
"All would be nothing without vengeance; you appeal in vain to me. Did Iwish to spare you I could not; an oath, a fearful oath, binds me, takento one from whom I derived life, one whose death was far more agonisingand lingering than yours shall be."
"Let us at least die together."
"Do you scorn the company of your thrall in death?"
"God forbid!
"Oswy, you have given your life for us; we die in company. God protectmy poor mother, my poor childless mother! She will be alone!"
"You shall die together as you desire."
He addressed a few words in an unknown tongue to his men; his face wasnow pale as death, his lips compressed as of one who has taken adesperate resolution.
"Retire to your brother's chamber again. You will not compel me to useforce?"
They retired up the stairs; Ragnar followed, two or three of his men ata respectful distance from him.
They re-entered the chamber; Ragnar followed and stood before them.
"I will grant you all that is in my power; you shall all die together,and you may tend your brother to the last."
"What shall be the manner of our death?" asked Alfred, who was verycalm, fearfully calm.
"You will soon discover; my hand shall not be upon you, or red with yourblood. Believe me, I am, like you, the victim of stern necessity,although I am the avenger, you the victims."
"You cannot thus deceive yourself, or shake off the guilt of murder; ourfather's blood is upon you. You will answer for this, for him and forus, at the judgment seat."
"I am willing to do so, if there be a judgment seat whereat to answer. Ihad a father, too, who was condemned to a lingering death, by thirst,hunger, and madness; I witnessed his agonies; I swore to avenge them.You appeal to the memory of your father, who has perished a victim toavenging justice; I appeal to that of mine. If there be a God, let Himdeliver you, and perhaps I will believe in Him. Farewell for ever!"
He closed the door, and, with the aid of his men, securely fastened iton the outside, so that no strength from within could open it; hedescended to the hall.
"Warriors," he said, "the moment I predicted has come; I have received awarning that the usurper Edgar already marches against us; tomorrow, atthe latest, he will be here; before he arrives we shall be halfway toWessex. Let every one secure his baggage and his plunder, and let thehorses be all got ready for a forced march. We have eaten the last feastthat shall ever be eaten in these halls."
A few moments of bustle and confusion followed, and before half-an-hourhad expired all was ready, and the men-at-arms from without announcedthat every horse--their own and those of the thane, to carry theirbooty, the plunder of the castle--awaited them without.
"Then," said he, "listen, my men, to the final orders. _Fire the castle,every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, the outbuildings._ Wewill leave a pile of blackened embers for Edgar when he comes; the hallswhere the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be his, or entertain himas a guest."
A loud shout signified the alacrity with which his followers bentthemselves to the task; torches flashed in all directions, and in a fewmoments the flames began to do their destroying work.
An officer addressed Ragnar--"There are three thralls locked up in anoutbuilding, shall we leave them to burn?"
"Nay; why should we grudge them their miserable lives; they have done usno harm."
At that moment a loud cry of dire alarm was heard, the trampling of animmense body of horse followed--a rush into the hall already filledwith smoke--loud outcries and shrieks from without.
"What is the matter?" cried Ragnar.
"The Mercians are upon us! the Mercians are upon us!"
Ragnar rushed to the gateway, and a sight met his startled eyes he waslittle prepared to behold.
The clouds had been driven away by a fierce wind, the moon was shiningbrightly, and revealed a mighty host surrounding the hall on every side.Every horse before the gateway was driven away or seized, every man whohad not saved himself by instant retreat had been slain by the advancinghost; without orders the majority of his men had repassed the moat, andhad already raised the drawbridge against the foe, not without thegreatest difficulty.
"Extinguish the fires which you have raised; let each man fight fire--then we will fight the Mercians."
It was high time to fight fire, rather it was too late.
CHAPTER XXIII. "VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY."
When the door was finally closed upon the brothers and their faithfulthrall, Alfred did not give way to despair. The words of Ragnar, "Ifthere be a God, let Him deliver you," had sunk deeply into his heart,and had produced precisely the opposite effect to that which his cousinhad intended; it seemed as if his cause were thus committed to the greatBeing in Whose Hand was the disposal of all things; as if His Honourwere at stake, Whom the murderer had so impiously defied.
"'If there be a God, let Him deliver you,'" repeated Alfred, and itseemed to him as if a Voice replied, "Is My Arm shortened, that Itcannot save?"
But how salvation was to come, and even in what mode danger was to beexpected, was unknown to them; nay, was even unguessed. They heard thebustle below, which followed Ragnar's announcement of his intendeddeparture from Aescendune. They heard the mustering of the horses--andat last the conviction forced itself upon them that the foe were aboutto evacuate the hall. But in that case, how would he inflict hissentence upon his victims?
The dread truth, the suspicion of his real intention, crept upon theminds of both Alfred and Oswy. Elfric yet lay insensible, or seeminglyso, upon the bed, lost to all perception of his danger. Alfred sat atthe head of the bed, looking with brotherly love at the prostrate formof him for whom he was giving his life; but feeling secretly gratefulthat there was no painful struggle imminent in his case; that deathitself would come unperceived, without torturing forebodings.
It was at this moment that Oswy, who stood by the window, which wasstrongly barred, but which he had opened, for the night was oppressivelywarm, caught the faint and distant sound of a mighty host advancingthrough the forest; at first it was very faint, and he only heard itthrough the pauses in the storm of sound which attended Ragnar'spreparations for departure, but it soon became more distinct, and heturned to Alfred.
"Listen, my lord, they come to our aid; listen, I hear the army of Edgar."
Alfred rushed to the window, the hope of life strong within him; atfirst he could hear nothing for the noise below, but at length there wasa lull in the confusion, and then he heard distinctly the sound of thecoming deliverers. Another minute, and he saw the dark lines leaving theshadow of the forest, and descending the hill in serried array, thendeploying, as if to surround a foe in stealthy silence; he looked aroundfor the object, and beheld Ragnar's forces all unconscious of theirdanger, not having heard the approach in their own hasty preparationsfor departure. Another moment of dread suspense, like that with whichthe gazer watches the dark thundercloud before the lightning's flash. Amoment of dread silence--during which some orders, given loudly below,forced themselves upon him:
"Fire the castle, every portion of it; fire the stables, the barns, theoutbuildings; we will leave a pile of blackened ruins for Edgar when hecomes; the halls where the princely Edwy has feasted shall never be his,or entertain him as guest."
Meanwhile, the dark forces, unseen by the destroyers, were stillsurrounding the castle, deploying on all sides to surround it as in anet; for they saw the intention of their victims, and meant to cut offall chance of escape.
But the position of the brothers seemed as perilous as ever--for howcould Edgar's troops rescue them if the place were once on fire? Alfredgazed with pallid face upon Oswy, but met only a resigned helplessglance in return.
Yet, even at this moment of awful suspense, a voice seemed to whisper inhis ear, "Stand still, and see the salvation of G
od."
"Oswy," he exclaimed, "we shall not die--I feel sure that God willsave us!"
"It must be soon then," replied Oswy; "soon, my lord, for they havealready set the place on fire, just beneath us; can you not smell thesmoke?"
Just at that moment came the war cry of the Mercians, and the charge wehave already described.
It was during the following few minutes, while Ragnar and all his menwere vainly striving to extinguish the conflagration they had raised--for the dry timber of which the hall was chiefly built had taken firelike matchwood--it was while the friends without were preparing toattack, that a sudden change came over the patient.
"Alfred, my brother!"
Alfred looked round in surprise; consciousness had returned, and theface was calm and possessed as his own.
"Elfric, my dear Elfric!"
"What does all this mean? How came I here? What makes this smoke?"
"We are in danger, great danger; prisoners in our own house, which theyhave set on fire."
"I remember now--is not this our dear father's room?"
"Yes; we are prisoners in it, they have barred the door upon us."
"But they cannot bar us in: there is another door, Alfred; one my fatheronce pointed out to me, but told me to keep its existence a secret, asit always had been kept. Who are without?"
"The Mercians, Edgar's army, come to deliver us; if we can reach them,we are safe."
"I thought they were our foes, but all seems strange now. Alfred, liftup the tapestry which conceals the recess where dear father's armour hung."
Alfred complied.
"Now, just where the breastplate hung you will find a round knob of woodlike a peg."
"Yes, it is here."
"Push it hard--no, harder."
Alfred did so, and a concealed door flew open; he stepped through itwith a cry of joy, and found himself on the staircase leading up fromthe postern gate by which he had entered, just below the closed doorwhich led into the gallery above.
"God be thanked! we are saved--saved. Elfric!
"Oswy, take him in your arms, quick! quick! I lead the way, and will getthe boat ready--door open and boat ready."
It was all the work of a moment; they were on the private staircase,carrying Elfric, carefully wrapt up. The smoke had entered even here;the next moment they were at the entrance. Happily the whole attentionof Ragnar was concentrated on self preservation.
One more minute, and Elfric was placed in the coracle. The Mercians onthe further bank now observed them, and at first, not knowing them,seemed disposed to treat them as foes; when Oswy cried aloud, "Spareyour arrows; it is Elfric of Aescendune;" and they crowded to the bankjoyfully, for the purpose of the attack was known to all, and now theysaw its object placed beyond the reach of further risk of failure.
The coracle touched the further bank; a dozen willing hands assistedthem up the slope. And amidst shouts of vociferous joy and triumph theywere conducted to King Edgar, who hastened towards the scene with Siward.
"Now, let the castle burn, let it burn," said Oswy.
"Alfred, is it you?" exclaimed the young king; "just escaped from theflames! How came you there? and this is Elfric; you have saved him."
"God has delivered us."
"But you have been the instrument; you must tell me all another time,get him into shelter quickly.
"Here, men, bear him to the priory, while we stay to do our duty here.
"Alfred, you must not linger."
"One favour, my lord and king; show mercy to Ragnar, to Redwald, youknow not how sad his story has been."
"Leave that to me; he shall have all he deserves;" and Alfred was forcedto be content.
At this moment, aroused by the shouts of joy, Ragnar, forgetting evenhis danger, rushed to the roof. There he saw a crowd surrounding someobject of their joy; in the darkness of the night he could notdistinguish more, but the cry, "Long live Alfred of Aescendune!" arosespontaneously from the crowd, just as the brothers departed. Faint withtoil as he was, his heart beating wildly with apprehension, he rushed tothe chamber through smoke and flame, for the tongues of fire werealready licking the staircase. He withdrew the bars, he rushed in, theroom was empty.
"It is magic, sorcery, witchcraft," he groaned.
But the remembrance of his last words, of his scornful defiance of God,came back to him, and with it a conviction that he had indeed lifted uphis arm against the Holy One. He felt a sickening feeling of horror anddespair rush upon him, when loud cries calling him from beneath aroused him.
"We must charge through them; we cannot burn here; we must die fightingsword in hand, it is all that is left."
Not one voice spoke of surrender amongst those fierce warriors, or ofseeking mercy.
It was indeed high time, for all efforts to extinguish the flames hadproved vain; every part of the castle was on fire; the fiery elementstreamed from the lower windows, and curled upwards around the towers;it crackled and hissed in its fury, and the atmosphere became unfit tobreathe; it was like inhaling flame. Sparks flew about in alldirections, dense stifling smoke filled every room. Not a man remainedin the hall, when Redwald rushed down the gallery, holding his breath,for the hot air scorched the lungs; when, just as he arrived, thestaircase fell with a huge crash, and the flames shot up in his face,igniting hair and beard, and scorching his flesh. He rushed back to theopposite end of the passage, only to meet another blast of fire andsmoke--for they had ignited the hall in twenty places at once; theyhad done their work all too well. He rushed to the room he had left,shut the door for a moment's respite from flame and smoke, and then,springing at the window, strove to tear the bars down, but all in vain.
"There must be some egress. How did they escape? How could they escape?"he cried; and he sought in vain for the exit, for they had closed thedoor again, and he knew not where to look; in vain he lifted thetapestry, he could not discover the secret; and at last, overpowered bythe heat, he sprang again to the window, and drank in deep draughts offresh cool air to appease the burning feeling in his throat.
Crash! crash! part of the roof had given way, and the whole chambertrembled; then a single tongue of flame shot up through the floor, thenanother; the door had caught outside. Even in that moment he beheld hismen, his faithful followers, madly seeking death from the swords of thefoe; they had lowered the drawbridge, and dashed out without a leader.
"Would I were with them!" he cried. "Oh, to die like this!"
"Behold," cried a voice without, "he hath digged and graven a pit, andis fallen himself into the destruction he made for others."
It was Father Swithin, who had observed the face at the window, and whoraised the cry which now drew all the enemy to gaze upon him, for theyhad no longer a foe to destroy.
The flames now filled the room, but still he clung to the window, andthus protracted his torments; his foes, even the stern monk, could butpity him now, so marred and blackened was his visage, so agonised hislineaments; like, as they said, the rude pictures of the lost, where thelast judgment was painted on the walls of the churches. Yet he utteredno cry, he had resolved to die bravely; all was lost now. Anothermoment, and those who watched saw the huge beams which supported thebuilding bend and quiver; then the whole framework collapsed, and with asound like thunder the roof tumbled in, and the unhappy Ragnar wasburied in the ruin; while the flames from his funeral pyre rose to thevery heavens, and the smoke blotted the stars from view.
"Even so," said the monk, solemnly, "let Thine enemies perish, O Lord,but let them that love Thee be as the sun, when he goeth forth in hismight."
But those were not wanting who could not sympathise with the sternsentiment, remembering better and gentler lessons from the lips of thegreat Teacher and Master of souls.
"He has passed into the Hands of his God, there let us leave him," saidFather Cuthbert, who had just arrived at the moment. "It is not for usto judge a soul which has passed to the judgment seat, and is beyond thesentence of men."
Meanwhile, they
had borne Elfric first to the priory, for they judged itnot well that he should yet be brought to his mother; they feared thesudden shock. Many of the good monks had studied medicine, for they werein fact the healers both of soul and body throughout the district, andthey attended him with assiduous care. They put him to bed, they gavehim cordials which soon produced quiet sleep, and watched by him formany hours.
It was not till the day had far advanced that he awoke, greatlyrefreshed, and saw Father Cuthbert and Alfred standing by him. They hadallayed the fever, bound up the wound, which was not in itselfdangerous, and he looked more like himself than one could have imaginedpossible.
And now they thought they might venture to summon the lady Edith; andAlfred broke the intelligence to her, for she knew not the events of thenight.
"Mother," he said; "we have news of Elfric, both bad and good, to tell you."
"He lives then," she said; "he lives!"
"Yes, lives, and is near; but he was wounded badly in the battle."
"I must go to him," she said, and arose, forgetting all possibleobstacles in a mother's love.
"He is near at hand, in the priory; you will find him much changed, butthey say he will do well."
She shook like an aspen leaf, and threw her garments around her withnervous earnestness.
"Come, mother, take my arm."
"O Alfred, may I not come, too?" said little Edgitha.
"Yes, you may come too;" and they left the house.
Elfric heard them approach, and sat up in his bed, Father Cuthbertsupporting him with his arm;