The Rival Heirs; being the Third and Last Chronicle of Aescendune

by A. D. Crake

  CHAPTER XVI. RETRIBUTION.

  "Raro antecedentem scelestumDeseruit pede Poena claudo."

  It was midday, and the sun was pouring the full power of hisnoontide beams on the wilderness of reeds and flags whichoverspread the southern side of the Dismal Swamp, reposing on thetreacherous surface of bog, quagmire, and quicksand.

  Signs of life there were none, save when the bittern rose from itsnest, amidst the long reeds or sedgy grass, or the moor fowl flewover the surface of the inky water, which here and there collectedinto pools. The feeble hum of insects filled the air, but all elsewas peace and solitude.

  Save that there was a sign of life on the farther side of theSwamp--a solitary figure half concealed by bushes, stood watchingon a promontory of firm land, looking anxiously--from his slightelevation over the surface of the fen.

  He was an aged man, who had seen some ninety summers; his longbeard descended below the girdle which confined his brown tunic atthe waist. It was Haga, the father of Ordgar.

  "My eyes are not what they were, and I see no sign as yet. Ah, herecomes little Siward!"

  A boy of some twelve years approached him very silently, as if someserious business was about to be transacted, of such nature as tosubdue boyish loquacity.

  "Come hither, Siward, my grandchild, and lend me thine eyes andears, for mine are now dulled by age. Dost thou hear aught?"

  "I hear the bittern boom, and the woodpecker tap, but that is all."

  "Sit down by my side, and watch with me; the time is at hand."

  "Will my father be with them?"

  "He will, my child."

  "And he will come home safely to us, when all is over?"

  "That is as God wills, dear child; his life belongs to his country.Thou mayst pray for him," he added, as he saw tears rise to theeyes of the boy.

  "I do," said the child.

  They sat awhile in perfect silence, when at last the boy appearedto listen intently.

  "Grandfather," he said, "I hear the sound of many feet."

  "Art quite sure?"

  "Yes, and now I see men advancing from the shade of yonder thicketof beech."

  "And I see them too; go and warn Tosti, Sexwulf, Ulf and Frithgift,and be sure that thou keepest out of the fen thyself."

  "Only thou wilt bring father back home with thee?"

  "By God's help, my child."

  At this moment a numerous and warlike band of Normans emerged fromthe woods, in full view, and paused on the edge of the Swamp.

  "Now they come forth to their doom. The Lord hath delivered theminto our hands," said Haga.

  Foremost amongst them the old man recognised his son Ordgar; hisarms were bound, and a cord attached to the thongs which confinedthem, held by a man-at-arms.

  We will transport ourselves to the other side of the Swamp.

  Hugo sat there on his steed, in the full panoply of warlike pride,throbbing with the desire of vengeance, and with the hope ofrecovering his son--whom he was destined never to see again; forjustice, although her pace may seem tardy, seldom fails to overtakeevildoers, even in this world; and he who, as men thought, hadslain others by fire, was destined to perish by the same avengingelement.

  But no shadow of coming events was there to disturb his equanimity;all seemed to promise the gratification of his fondest wishes, andhe was in the highest spirits.

  And now he bade them bring Ordgar forward, and the guide--his feetfree, but his arms bound--stood before him.

  "Thou hast said that thou knowest the road through the Swamp?"

  "I do."

  "Lead on, then, and beware of treachery; for if there be any doubt,even a doubt, of thy faith, thou diest."

  "Fear not; my faith is pledged--it shall be kept."

  Pledged, yes: but to whom?

  The Normans failed to see the "double entendre" of this reply.Their claim was but the omnipotence of torture.

  The thrall led the way to a spot where the earth bore marks offootsteps; here it was evident men had recently entered the mazewhich stretched before them.

  Hugo pressed forward and took the cord himself.

  "Now," he said, "Normans, follow me. Lead on, thrall; remember thyfarm at Aescendune, and thy forfeit life."

  Onward, infatuated as the Egyptians when they passed between thesuspended walls of the Red Sea, the band followed their leader intothe maze; the path was narrow, the reeds were tall, and soon theytowered above the heads of the rash invaders.

  High bulrushes, tall flags; thick, sedgy vegetation beneath; theground, firm enough below at first, soon became quaking and feltstrangely elastic under their feet. The marsh was here of greatwidth, and shortly they had advanced a considerable distance fromfirm ground, and were in the midst of the Swamp.

  And here the path became more and more difficult. Sometimes onlyone could pass at once; nor could they see distinctly where theywere going. The sun, too, which might have guided them as to thedirection of their march, was temporarily clouded.

  "Dog," said Hugo to the captive guide, "if thou misleadest us thoushalt die."

  "A man can die but once."

  "Thou art a bold villain," said the baron, raising his sword.

  "Slay me, and who will guide thee through the marsh?"

  "True; do thy duty and fear nought."

  "I will do my duty."

  All this passed while they were slowly advancing, and the strangepart of it was this, that they did not seem to get to the end oftheir toil. Little did they suspect that they were wandering in apath which knew no end, save the bottom of the quagmire.

  And now the marks of the feet, which had hitherto appeared plainbefore Hugo as he rode, were seen no more; nor could the baron tellthe precise spot when they faded from sight; they had becomefainter and fainter, and then had vanished.

  "Dog, where are the footmarks? thou art wandering from the road."

  "We shall soon find them again."

  "Are we nearly over the Swamp?"

  "Thou wilt see firm land soon."

  The baron grasped the cord tightly.

  Onward they wandered, and still naught but rushes and flags, sedgesand dried reeds, met their gaze, until a promontory of firmground--a rock of deep red sandstone--rose from the mire, abovetheir heads--distant, it might be, a bow shot.

  The baron uttered a sigh of relief, when his horse stumbled; thepoor brute strove to recover his footing, and sank deeper into thetreacherous quicksand. Over went the Baron, over his horse's head.

  Ordgar snatched at the cord; it escaped Hugo's grasp; the guide wasamidst the reeds, and in one moment he had made his escape; thereeds parted, waved again, higher than the head of the fugitive,and the baron saw him no more; only a mocking laugh arose toaugment the rage of the baffled tyrant.

  But that rage was speedily changed to terror, for, as the baronrose, his feet sank beneath him, and he felt as if some unseen handhad grasped them in the tenacity of the quicksand, just as a faintcloud of smoke rolled by overhead.

  Meanwhile the men in the rear were pressing on, and the foremostadvanced to help their leader and his struggling steed; but all whodid so were soon in the mire in like fashion, sinking deeper witheach struggle.

  Oh, how awful that sucking, clasping feeling beneath the surface ofthe earth, that gradual sinking out of sight--a process lastingperhaps for hours. But hours were not given to Baron Hugo; for atthis moment the awful cry of "Fire!" "Fire!" was heard on allsides, and a loud mocking shout of laughter from hundreds of unseenenemies, now safe on the firm ground beyond the Swamp, was theanswer.

  A cloud of thick smoke rolled over the reeds, and cries of distressand anguish arose yet more loudly.

  "Death to the incendiary! let him who burnt the monks of St.Wilfred die by fire himself as is meet!"

  The latter cry arose from the borders of the Swamp, hidden fromsight by thick eddying billows of smoke.

  A flashing sheet of flame, then another--clouds of thick smokerolling above--the crackling of flame, devouring the dryherbage--stifli
ng heat, yet more unendurable each moment--suffocationimpending as the air became thicker and denser.

  Held by the quicksand, and sinking deeper and deeper--only raisedabove the ground from the middle of the body; so Hugo awaited hisjust fate--and felt it just.

  "Oh for an hour to repent! oh for a priest! My sins have found meout."

  A sudden gust of wind opened a passage through the smoke, andrevealed in the lurid light of the flames--Wilfred of Aescendune!

  For a moment the baron thought himself dead, and at the judgmentseat; then as he saw his supposed victim standing in safety, afaroff on the high rock, and pointing out the scene, with awe yetexultation on his youthful face, he grasped, as in a moment, thewhole secret of the forces which had been arrayed against him, andtasted an agony bitterer than that of death.

  "All is lost," he cried.

  His courage now gave way; he proffered fabulous rewards to any whowould save him; but none could help; nay, all were in likedistress. His brain reeled--the flames approached--nearer--nearer.

  It was an awful scene. The marsh was a raging furnace. The exultingcries of the English mingled with the groans of their sufferingfoes. Pity there was none--the remembrance of the burnt priory hadextinguished that sweet virtue.

  Ah! who shall tell of the terrible hatred, the thirst of blood,which war--begotten of man's fellest passions--had created in thehearts of the oppressed? Who would not pray for peace on earth,good will towards men {xv}?