CHAPTER IX. THE CAMP OF THE DANES.
It was the noontide heat, and two Danish warriors reclined under theshadow of an ancient beech, hard by the entrenched camp of the Danes,a few days after the arrival of Alfgar therein. Their spears lay idlyon the grass, as if there were no foe to dread, and the land weretheir own; they seemed deeply engrossed in conversation.
"Well, Anlaf, and when is your son going to give up his Christianity?"
"You are in a great hurry, Sidroc."
"Nay, all the camp inquires."
"They must wait."
"How long?"
"I cannot tell," said Anlaf, shifting uneasily about; "he is my onlyson, the heir of a long line of warrior princes."
"To whom his life is a disgrace."
"Not altogether; he is brave."
"Would be, you mean, were he not a Christian."
"No, he is, or he would not dare cross my path as he does; death, withwhich I have often threatened him, does not seem to have much terrorfor him."
"Perhaps he does not know how terrible death can be made. Has he everheard of the rista oern {vii} (spread eagle)?"
"I should not value him much if I won him by fear. I must try othermodes."
"Only do not tarry; Sweyn himself inquires how long his obstinacy isto be endured."
"He must not expect that every conversion can be accomplished with asmuch rapidity as his own in early days."
"Better not refer to that."
"Why! he was baptized himself."
"He would slay any one who reminded him of it."
"Yes; the curse of Harold Bluetooth, they say, was not a comfortablething to get."
"The father was a Christian in that case, and the son returned to thegods of his ancestors; in your case it is the opposite: the firstmight be permitted, the last never."
"You would not talk in that way if he were your own son."
"Should I not? listen; I had a son, a noble, gallant boy offifteen--all fire and spirit--do you know how he died?"
"It was before we knew each other."
"Then I will tell you. We had been ravaging the Frankish coasts, andthe lad got a wound in his shoulder; we carried him home, for he hadfought like a wolf, and the leeches tried to cure him, but it was allin vain; they said he would never be fit to go to battle again. PoorSigard! he could not bear that, and he said one day when I was tryingto cheer him, 'No, father, I shall never be able to strike a gooddownright blow again, and I cannot live until I die a cow's death inmy bed; I will die as my fathers have died before me when they couldno longer fight.' I saw what he meant, but I did not like the thought,and I tried to change the subject, but he returned to it again andagain, until at last he persuaded me to let him have his way. So wetook one of our ships, stuffed it full with things that would burneasily, made a funereal pile on the deck, and laid him thereon instate, with a mantle fit for a king thrown over him. Then we bade himgoodbye and a happy journey to Valhalla; he was as cheerful as if hewere going to his bridal; we tried to appear as if we were too, but ittore my heart all the same. Then we applied the torch and cut thecable; the wind blew fair, the bark stood out to sea. She had not gothalf-a-mile from shore when the flames burst out from every crevice ofthe hold; we saw them surround the pile where he lay passive; he didnot move so far as we could see, and after that all was hidden fromour sight in flame and smoke."
The old warrior was silent, and, in spite of his stoicism, Anlafthought a tear stood in his eye.
"So don't tell me I could not give up an only son," added Sidroc.
Anlaf made no reply, but only sighed--a sign of weakness he strove torepress the moment he betrayed it.
They walked back together to the camp, and there they parted. Anlafrepaired at once to his tent, and found Alfgar seated therein.
"The king wishes to know when you will be enrolled amongst hisfollowers."
The lad looked up sadly, yet firmly; the expression of his face,whereon filial awe contended with yet higher feelings of duty, wasvery touching. Anlaf felt it, and in his heart respected his son,while sometimes he felt furious at his disobedience.
"Father, it is useless, you should not have brought me here, I shalllive and die a Christian."
"At all events, Alfgar, you should give more attention to all we havesaid to you, and more respect to the defenders of the old belief inwhich your ancestors were all content to die. What do you suppose hasbecome of them?"
If Alfgar had been a modern Christian, he might have said,conscientiously enough, that he believed they would be judged by theirlight, but no such compromise in belief was possible then.
"There is no salvation save in the Church," he said, sorrowfullyenough.
"Then where are they--in hell?"
Alfgar was silent.
"What was good enough for them is good enough for me, and for thatmatter for you, too. I should be more comfortable there with them thanwith your saints and monks; at all events, I will take my chance withmy forefathers, cannot you do the same?"
"They did not know all I do."
"All fudge and priestly pratings, begotten of idleness and dreams.Valhalla and Niffelheim are much more reasonable; at all events theyare parts of a creed which has made its followers the masters of theworld."
"This world."
"The next may take its chance, if there is one, of which I by no meansfeel sure. You are throwing away the certainty of pleasure and gloryhere for an utter uncertainty; those rewards you will gain bysubmission are at your feet to take up; those you will gain by abloody death only exist in the imaginations of priests."
"'Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, but He hath revealed them tous by His Spirit,'" said Alfgar in a low voice.
His father was silent; the words struck him like a strain of weirdmusic; but he did not yield the point, save for the time, and after apause changed the subject.
"You have other motives than heavenly ones. You love a Christianmaiden."
"How do you know that?" said Alfgar, blushing to the temples.
"I have lain near you at night, and you talk in your dreams. Now, Ihave yet another motive to put before you. You think you have cause tolove the Aescendune people, because they saved your life. I think Ihave cause to hate them, because they made you a Christian. Now, ifyou die in your superstition, when we invade Mercia they shall sufferfor it."
"They have suffered enough."
"Nay, only in buildings, which they will restore. I will pursue themwith unrelenting vengeance, with the death feud, till I have destroyedthe accursed race utterly."
"Father!"
"If you would save them," said Anlaf, who saw he had made animpression, "renounce your Christianity, and I will forgetAescendune."
Here he left the tent.
The days which followed were, it may be imagined, very uncomfortableones for Alfgar; but he was not destitute of occupation. It was hisfather's wish that he should join the youth of the camp in athleticand warlike exercises. This he had no objection to do, and he spentnearly his whole time in practising the use of battle-axe, of bow, ofspear, of sword, and shield, or in managing the war horse, for theDanes had acquired cavalry tactics on stolen horses.
Naturally quick, both of eye and hand, he learned all these thingseasily, and excited the admiration and envy of his companions. Theybecame useful in time.
In this manner nearly a month passed away, when an incident occurredwhich claims our attention.
Strolling on the earthworks which defended the camp, near the royalquarters, Alfgar came unexpectedly upon no less a person than the kinghimself, in close conversation with a stranger.
There was something in the form and manner of this stranger which evenin the brief moment conveyed recognition to the mind of our hero; anda second glance, which was all he dared to cast, as he withdrew fromthe spot, revealed to him the face of a traitor.
It was Edric Streorn.
A few hours later the chieftains were all summoned to a council in theking's tent, and when, after a
short session, they came forth, thegeneral order was given to break up the encampment, and move towardsthe southwest for the winter, for all the resources of the countryaround were exhausted.
The work was a laborious one. From the dawn of day, horses, heavilyladen, left the camp, loaded with the accumulated spoil of the year.Anlaf himself was very busy, and it was with some real alarm thatAlfgar asked him what would happen did the English suddenly appear.
"No fear of them, boy. We have received certain intelligence thattheir army is disbanded for want of provisions. They will not meettill the spring unless we rout them up."
Alfgar knew well whence the "certain intelligence" came.
Destroying and plundering, the mighty host moved on its way, crossinginto Hampshire, and doing, as the chronicle says, "their old wont." Ofthem it might be said in the words of the prophet:
"Like Eden the land at morn they find;But they leave it a desolate waste behind."
Whenever they found a tract of country as yet unexhausted, there theysettled until they had exhausted it. The wretched inhabitants, who hadfled at their approach, perished with hunger, unless they had strengthto crawl to the far distance, where as yet bread might be found.
It was the custom of the invaders to burn all their resting placeswhen they left them, and to slay all captives, save such as could beheld to ransom, or a few whom they detained in slavery, till they dieda worse death from want and ill usage.
Thus they moved from spot to spot, until towards the middle ofNovember they reached the coast opposite the Isle of Wight, in whichunfortunate island they decided, after due consideration, to winter.
Opposite the host, across the Solent, rose the lovely and gentle hillsof the "garden of England;" but between them lay the Danish fleet, inall its grandeur, calmly floating on the water. Each of the loftyships bore the ensign of its commander; some carried at the prow thefigures of lions, some of bulls, dolphins, dragons, or armed warriors,gaudily painted or even gilded; while others bore from their mast theensign of voracious birds--the eagle, the raven--which appeared tostretch their wings as the flag expanded in the wind.
The sides of the ships were also gay with bright colours, and as thewarriors embarked and hung up their bright shields, grander sight wasnever seen.
But chiefly Alfgar admired the ship of Sweyn, called the "GreatDragon." It was in the form of an enormous serpent; the sharp headformed the prow, with hissing tongue protruding forth, and the longtail tapered over the poop.
In this ship Anlaf himself had his place, in deference to his descent,and Alfgar accompanied him. It may easily be imagined he would soonerhave been elsewhere.
Scarcely a fishing boat belonging to the English could be discerned:the Danes made a desert around them.
Eight years before, in the year 998, they had wintered on the island,and since that time had regarded it as a Danish colony. No Englishremained in it save in the position of slaves, and the conquerors hadaccumulated huge stores of spoil therein, while they drew their storesof provisions from every part of the adjacent mainland.
"Is it not a grand sight, Alfgar?" exclaimed his father. "Are you notproud of your people, the true monarchs of the sea?"
Alfgar was for the moment inclined to sympathise; but he thought ofthe darker side of the picture, and was silent.
There was a higher glory far than all this, and it had left a lifelongimpression on his soul.