by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XVIII: FREDA DISCOVERED
The spies upon their return reported that Sweyn had taken up his abodein the mansion of the Count of Ugoli, who was the lord of that part ofthe country. Most of the Danes lived on shore in the houses of thetownspeople. Many of these had been slain, and the rest were treated asslaves. The lady Freda was also on shore, and it was thought that shewould ere long become the bride of the Viking.
"Think you that there will be any possibility of surprising the houseand carrying her off?"
"I think not," the Dane said, "for Sweyn's men are on the alert, andkeep good guard, for the people of this part of the island, beingmaddened by their exactions and cruelty, have banded themselvestogether; and although they cannot withstand the strong parties whichgo out in search of plunder they cut off stragglers, and have madeseveral attacks on small parties. It is thought that they may evenventure an attack upon the place at night, therefore sentries are set,and a portion of the force remains always under arms in readiness tosally out in case of alarm."
"I would fain go myself," Edmund said, "and see how matters stand, andtry to communicate with Freda. It may be that her long resistance hastired her out, and that she is at the point of consenting to becomeSweyn's bride."
"I think not that," Siegbert replied. "When Freda has once made up hermind she is not given to change."
"I doubt not her resolution," Edmund said; "but none can blame her if,after all these months, she has begun to despair of rescue; nay, it iseven probable that, having Sweyn, who is assuredly a brave andenterprising Viking, always near her, she may have come to love him."
"No, Edmund," Siegbert replied. "I am sure you need have no fear thatshe has softened towards Sweyn. But how do you think of proceeding ifyou land?"
"I will take with me this Dane, and if one of the Genoese nobles willgo with me I will take him, and also the man we brought fromMarseilles, who acts as an interpreter between us and the Italians."
"But why hamper yourself with two men, who would be even more likely tobe detected by the Danes than would you yourself?"
"I shall leave them in the outskirts of the place," Edmund replied. "Iwould fain see if I can enter into any negotiations with the natives.Perhaps we may arrange that they shall attack the place on the landside, while the Dragon falls upon the galleys, and in any case we mayneed an interpreter with the people."
One of the young Genoese, upon being asked whether he would take partin the adventure, at once consented, and the four men, attiringthemselves as Danes, speedily landed in the Dragon's boat. The bay inwhich the ship was lying was some ten miles along the shore from thetown. The spies had made their way along the sea-coast by night, but asit was morning when Edmund landed, he thought that it would be safer tomake a detour so as to arrive near the landward side of the town and soenter it after dark.
They had not proceeded far when they came upon the ruins of a village.It had been destroyed by fire, and the freshness of the charred beamsshowed that it had been done but a short time before, probably not manydays. Marks of blood could be seen in the roadway, but no bodies werevisible, and Edmund supposed that, after the Danes had retired, thesurvivors must have returned and buried their dead. They had notproceeded far when the Dane pointed out to Edmund a half-naked lad whowas running with the swiftness of a deer over a slope of some littledistance.
"He is going too fast for us to catch him," Edmund said carelessly;"and as, even if we did so, he could give us no information of any use,for you may be sure he has not ventured near the town, we may well lethim go on in his way."
For three or four miles further they pursued their course. The country,which was exceedingly fertile, and covered with corn-fields andvineyards, appeared entirely deserted. Here and there a wide blackenedtract showed where, from carelessness or malice, a brand had beenthrown into the standing corn.
"The Danes are ever the same," Edmund said. "Well may they be calledthe sea-wolves. It would be bad enough did they only plunder and killthose who oppose them; but they destroy from the pure love ofdestroying, and slay for the pleasure of slaying. Why are these robberspermitted to be the scourge of Europe?"
"Why indeed?" the Genoese repeated when the interpreter had translatedEdmund's exclamation to him. "'Tis shame and disgrace that Christendomdoes not unite against them. They are no more invincible now than theywere when Caesar overran their country and brought them intosubjection. What the Romans could do then would be easy for theChristian powers to do now if they would but make common cause againstthese marauders--nay, Italy alone should be able at any rate to sweepthe Mediterranean free of their pirate galleys; but Venice and Genoaand Pisa are consumed by their own petty jealousies and quarrels, whileall our sea-coasts are ravaged by these wolves of the ocean."
"Ah! what is that?" he exclaimed, breaking off, as an arrow strucksmartly against his helmet.
They were at the moment passing through a small wood which bordered theroad on both sides. The first arrow seemed but a signal, for in aninstant a score of others flew among the party. It was well that theycarried with them the long Danish shields, which nearly covered theirwhole body. As it was, several slight wounds were inflicted, and theinterpreter fell dead with an arrow in his forehead.
Immediately following the flight of arrows a crowd of peasants armedwith staves, axes, and pikes dashed out from the wood on both sides andfell upon them, uttering shouts of "Death to the marauders!" "Kill thesea-wolves!"
So great was the din, that, although the Genoese shouted loudly thatthey were not Danes but friends, his words were unheard in the din; andattacked fiercely on all sides, the three men were forced to defendthemselves for their lives. Standing back to back in the form of atriangle, they defended themselves valiantly against the desperateattacks of their assailants.
Several of these were cut down, but so furious was the attack of themaddened peasants that the defenders were borne down by the weight ofnumbers, and one by one beaten to the ground. Then the peasants rainedblows upon them as if they had been obnoxious wild beasts, and in spiteof their armour would speedily have slain them had not the Genoese,with a great effort, pulled from his breast a cross, which wassuspended there by a silken cord, and held it up, shouting, "We areChristians, we are Italians, and no Danes."
So surprised were the peasants at the sight that they recoiled fromtheir victims. The Dane was already insensible. Edmund had juststrength to draw his dagger and hold up the cross hilt and repeat thewords, "We are Christians." It was the sight of the cross rather thanthe words which had arrested the attacks of the peasants. Indeed, thewords of the Genoese were scarce understood by them, so widely didtheir own patois differ from the language of polished Italy.
The fact, however, that these Danes were Christians seemed soextraordinary to them that they desisted from their attack. The Danes,they knew, were pagans and bitterly hostile to Christianity, themonasteries and priests being special objects of their hostility. Thesuggestion of one of the peasants, that the cross had no doubt beentaken from the body of some man murdered by the Danes, revived thepassion of the rest and nearly cost the prisoners their lives; but anolder man who seemed to have a certain authority over the others saidthat the matter must be inquired into, especially as the man who hadthe cross, and who continued to address them in Italian, clearly spokesome language approaching their own. He would have questioned himfurther, but the Genoese was now rapidly losing consciousness from thepain of his wounds and the loss of blood.
The three prisoners were therefore bound, and being placed on roughlitters constructed of boughs, were carried off by the peasants. Thestrength and excellence of Edmund's armour had enabled him to withstandthe blows better than his companions, and he retained his consciousnessof what was passing. For three hours their journey continued. At theend of that time they entered a wood high up on the hillside. There wasa great clamour of voices round, and he judged that his conductors hadmet another party and that they were at the end of their journey.
The lit
ters were now laid down and Edmund struggled to his feet. Beforehim stood a tall and handsome man in the attire of a person of theupper class. The old peasant was explaining to him the manner of theircapture of the prisoners, and the reason why they had spared theirlives.
"How is it," the noble asked when he had finished, turning to Edmund,"that you who are Danes and pagans, plunderers and murderers, claim tobe Christians?"
Edmund did not understand the entire address, but he had already pickedup a little Italian, which was not difficult for him from hisacquaintance with French.
"We are not Danes," he said; "we are their enemies, I am a Saxon earl,and this my friend is a noble of Genoa."
"A Saxon!" the Italian exclaimed in surprise; "one of the people ofKing Alfred, and this a Genoese noble! How is it that you aremasquerading here as Danes?"
"I speak but a few words of Italian," Edmund said, "but my friend willtell you the whole story when he recovers. I pray you to order aid tobe given to him at once."
Although still at a loss to understand how it had come about, the Countof Ugoli--for it was that noble himself--saw that his prisoner'sstatement must be a true one. In their native patois he hastily toldthe peasants that there must be some mistake, and that although theirprisoners seemed to be Danes they were really Christians and friends.He bade them then instantly to strip off their armour, to bind up theirwounds, and to use all their efforts to restore them to life.
At his bidding one of the peasants brought a wine-skin, and filling alarge cup with the liquid, offered it to Edmund. The latter drained itat a draught, for he was devoured by a terrible thirst. After this hefelt revived, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing his comradesrecovering under the ministrations of the peasants, who chafed theirhands, applied cool poultices of bruised leaves to their bruises, andpoured wine down their throats.
In half an hour the Genoese was sufficiently recovered to be able tosit up and to give a full account of their presence there, and of theirobject in assuming the disguise of Danes. He then told the count thatEdmund intended to reconnoitre the place alone, and that he hoped heand his people would attack the town, while the Saxons in their galleymade an assault from the sea. The count replied that the peasantrycould not be induced to take such a step.
"I will, however, aid your friend," he said, "by a feigned attackto-morrow evening when he is there. This may help him to escape, and ifthe Danes sally out next day in pursuit there will be the fewer for himto cope with."
When Edmund awoke the next morning he found himself able to walk andmove without difficulty and with but little pain, thanks to the care ofthe peasants, and in the afternoon, being furnished by the count with aguide, he started for the town.
When he arrived within a short distance he dismissed his guide and laydown in some bushes till nightfall, then he rose and made his way intothe town, passing unobserved between the watch-fires made by theparties of Danes encamped in its outskirts to protect it againstsurprise. Once in the town, he walked boldly on, having no fear ofrecognition or question.
Sounds of carousing came through the open casements, but few peoplewere in its streets. He made his way down to the sea-shore, which hefollowed until he came to a large and stately mansion standing inbeautifully laid out gardens at the end of the town. Several tents wereerected in the garden; and although the night was not cold great fireshad been lighted, around which the Danes were carousing.
Avoiding these Edmund walked up to the open windows. The first room helooked into was deserted, but in the next, which was a large apartment,a number of Danes were seated at table. At its head sat Sweyn withFreda on his right hand. Around were a number of his leading men, thecaptains of the galleys and their wives. The meal was over, and thewinecup was passing round. A number of attendants moved about the room,and many of the warriors who had supped elsewhere stood around thetable, joining in the conversation and taking their share of the wine.
Edmund saw at once that he could not hope for a more favourableopportunity, and he accordingly entered the mansion, and, passingthrough the open door, joined the party within, keeping himself in rearof those standing round the table, so that the light from the lampsplaced there should not fall upon his face.
Just as he had taken his place, Sweyn called out: "Let us have a song.Odoacre the minstrel, do you sing to us the song of the Raven."
A minstrel bearing a small harp advanced into the centre of thehorse-shoe table, and after striking a chord, began to sing, or ratherto chant one of the favourite songs of the sea-rovers.
A shout of applause rose from the Danes as the minstrel ceased, andholding their goblets high above their heads, they drank to the Raven.
While the singing was going on Edmund quietly made his way round to oneof the open windows. It was the hour at which the count had promised tomake his attack, and he listened eagerly for any sound which might tellthat the peasants had begun their work. Other songs followed the first,and Edmund began to be afraid that the courage of the peasants hadfailed at the last moment.
Suddenly he saw lights appear at five or six points in the distance,and, putting his head out, he thought he could hear distant cries andshouts. The lights grew brighter, and soon broad tongues of flame shotup. Shouts at once arose from the guards without. Some of the revellershearing these went to the windows to see what was happening, and gave acry of alarm. "Sweyn, we must be attacked; fires are rising in theoutskirts of the town."
"These cowards would never venture to disturb us," Sweyn saidscornfully; "of all the foes we have ever met none were so feeble andtimid as these Italians."
"But see, Sweyn, the flames are rising from eight points; this cannotbe accident."
Sweyn rose from his seat and went to the window.
"No, by Wodin," he exclaimed, "there is mischief here; let us armourselves, and do you," he said, turning to a young man, "run swiftlyto the outposts, and learn what is the meaning of this."
Scarcely, however, had he spoken when a man ran breathlessly into thehall.
"Haste to the front, jarl," he said to Sweyn, "we are attacked. Some ofthe enemy creeping in between our fires set fire to the houses in theoutskirts, and as we leapt to our feet in astonishment at the suddenoutbreak, they fell upon us. Many of my comrades were killed with thefirst discharge of arrows, then they rushed on in such numbers thatmany more were slain, and the rest driven in. How it fares with theother posts I know not, but methinks they were all attacked at the samemoment. I waited not to see, for my captain bade me speed here with thenews."
"Sound the horn of assembly," Sweyn said. "Do you, Oderic, take twentyof the guard without, and at once conduct the ladies here to the boatsand get them on board the galleys. Let all others hasten to the sceneof attack. But I can hardly even now believe that this coward herdintend to attack us in earnest."
In the confusion which reigned as the warriors were seizing theirshields and arms, Edmund approached Freda, who had with the rest risenfrom her seat.
"The Dragon is at hand," he whispered; "in a few hours we will attackSweyn's galley; barricade yourself in your cabin until the fight isover."
Freda gave a little start as Edmund's first words reached her ear. Thenshe stood still and silent. She felt her hand taken and pressed, andglancing round, met Edmund's eye for a moment just as he turned andjoined the Danes who were leaving the hall. A minute later Odericentered with the guard, and at once escorted the women down to theboats, and rowed them off to the galleys.
Sweyn and the main body of the Danes rushed impetuously to theoutskirts of the town. The fighting was already at an end, the peasantshaving withdrawn after their first success. Two or three of the partiesround the watch-fires had been annihilated before they could offer anyeffectual resistance, others had beaten off the attack, and had fallenback in good order to the houses, losing, however, many men on the wayfrom the arrows which their assailants shot among them.
Sweyn and the Norsemen were furious at the loss they had suffered; butas pursuit would have been us
eless, there was nothing to be done forthe present, and after posting strong guards in case the attack shouldbe renewed, the Danish leaders returned to the banqueting hall, where,over renewed draughts of wine, a council was held.
Most of those present were in favour of sending out a strong expeditionon the following day to avenge the attack; but Sweyn argued that itmight be that the natives had assembled from all parts of the island,and that this sudden attack, the like of which had not been attemptedbefore, was perhaps made only to draw them out into an ambush or toattack the town in their absence. Therefore he urged it was better todelay making an expedition for a short time, when they would find theenemy unprepared.
After some discussion Sweyn's arguments prevailed, and it wasdetermined to postpone the expedition for a few days.