CHAPTER XV. FATHER CUTHBERT'S DIARY AT CLIFFTON.
SUNDAY BEFORE ADVENT.--
The evening, after the Vesper service in the church was over, anddarkness had closed in, we all sat down to our evening meal. The doorswere shut to keep out the storm, and I had already said grace, whenthe Etheling suddenly appeared.
His manner struck us all. He looked wild and agitated, and his firstwords cast a chill over us.
"Where is Alfgar?"
"Is he not with you, what has happened?" said I and Herstan, speakingin the same breath.
"No, I have lost him. I had hoped to find him here; they must havemurdered him," he cried.
"Murdered him?"
"Yes, he was too dangerous to Edric to be suffered to live. I mighthave foreseen it; and they have put him out of the way by cowardlyassassination," insisted the Etheling.
There was too much reason in his words.
"Besides," said he, "if he were well and uninjured, would he not havecome here, where he was sure of a welcome?"
"I will go to Dorchester at once," said Herstan.
"It is useless," said Edmund; but my brother, having learnt all thatthe prince could tell him, mounted and rode into the town.
Meanwhile Edmund evidently needed our care; we found he had not eatenall day.
"I have risked my life for my country," he said, "and now that I bringtidings which ought to circulate through the land like the wind, androuse every man to action, I am disbelieved. Nay, it is hinted that Idrank too much Danish wine and mead, and misunderstood what I heard. Icould brain the man who dared say so to my face. I could--and would.Meanwhile no steps are taken, no levies called out; but I will myselfalarm the country. The innocent blood shall not be on my head."
"Surely they must heed your warning," said we all together.
"Not they. The fox, Edric, pretended that it was all moonshine."
"But did you not expose his treachery?" asked I.
"I tried to do so; but he pulled out a bit of some hedge, which hesaid was a holy thorn from St. Joseph's tree at Glastonbury, and thathe was there on pilgrimage when Alfgar saw him--saw him, mark you--atthe Danish camp on the borders of Sussex; and I saw men, I won'tmention names, who had more than once taken reward to slay theinnocent, look as if they would go down on their knees to this holythorn, which wasn't a holy thorn at all, but plucked from some hedgehard at hand. Did not Edric mock them in his heart! I should like tostrangle him."
How I thought of those who tithed mint and rue, and all manner ofherbs, and passed over justice, mercy, and the love of God.
So, in unavailing complaints, midnight drew on, and we heard the soundof my brother's horse.
He soon entered the room. We saw at a glance that he had laboured invain, and spent his strength for nought.
"No one has seen him," he said.
"Have you asked many people?" we inquired.
"Yes, scores. The sheriff, the bishop, the watchmen, thetradesfolk--no one has seen or heard aught. I will go again tomorrow."
"Meanwhile, do the people know what passed at the banquet last night?"
"No; it has all been kept quiet," was the reply.
We could do no more, and all retired to rest. I have sat up to say mymattins and finish this diary. It is now nearly the third hour of themorn, and--
Monday Night, 23d Nov. 1006.--
I had written as far as the word "and," when I was alarmed by a loudcry from the chamber next my own, which was occupied by the Etheling.I rose, and knocked at the door, but, receiving no answer, opened itand went in.
I saw at once that the prince was delirious; the fever, which I hadmarked in his eyes and manner, but which he struggled against, had atlength overcome his brave spirit.
Just as I entered the room, bearing my torch, he sprang out of bed.
"There is a snake under my pillow."
I tried to soothe him.
"It is Edric; he is turned into a snake, and is trying to sting me.Kill him! kill him!"
I got him into bed with some difficulty, and sat by him, after givinghim a composing draught--for I never travel without a few simples athand, in case of sickness amongst those to whom I minister.
He slept at last, but it was evident to me that exposure andexcitement had grievously injured his health, and that he was indanger of prolonged sickness. Ever and anon he raved in his sleepabout Sweyn, Edric, his father, and Alfgar, mixing them up in his mindmost strangely: but the object of his abhorrence was ever Edric, whilehe spoke of Alfgar, "poor Alfgar!" as a father might speak of a son.
I watched by him all through the night, and in the morning he wasevidently too ill to rise. His mind became clear for a short time, andyet his memory was so confused that he scarcely comprehended where hewas, or how he got here.
So my return to Abingdon is indefinitely delayed, for Herstan and mysister both insist on my staying till he is out of danger, if Godwill; and indeed I know no one else to whose care I could willinglycommit him.
We think it best not to let his father or Edric know where he is, forwe know how his death would rejoice the latter, and the wish is oftenfather to the action. A little would turn the scale now.
Herstan has gone into Dorchester again to inquire about Alfgar, and toascertain whether any action has been taken consequent upon Edmund'sintelligence from Carisbrooke.
Saturday.--Vigil of St. Andrew, and Eve of Advent Sunday.--
All this week I have been watching by the sickbed of the Etheling.
I hope the crisis is past, but he is still very weak. He has beendelirious nearly the whole time, and today has but a confused idea ofthings around him.
All our inquiries about Alfgar have been fruitless, but there was onecircumstance which we learned, which seemed to me to bear somereference to the matter.
The ferryman, whose hut is situate at the bend of the river below theSynodune hills, where people cross for Wittenham, says that late onthe night in question a boat with four people passed down the river,and that it struck him that one only rowed, while two of the restseemed guarding the fourth passenger. He did not know the boat, yet hethought he knew every boat on the river.
This he has told to Herstan and others, but no further discovery hasensued.
But another important matter has claimed our attention. The king lefton Monday without making any efforts to profit by the Etheling'sdiscovery at Carisbrooke; but we could not in conscience let thematter rest. So Herstan and I went on to Dorchester on Wednesday, andI obtained an audience of the bishop, while he sought the sheriff.
The bishop received me very kindly, and talked to me a great deal about the happy days of Dunstan, when peace and plenty ruledeverywhere; but I led the conversation to the point I aimed at, andtold him frankly how alarmed we were at Abingdon about Edmund'stidings.
"And so was I," said he, "and I have persuaded the king to placeguards and watchers all through the coasts opposite the Wight, andwith Edric's aid we elaborated a goodly plan."
"Indeed," said I, "but I wish Edric had nought to do with it."
"So did I at first, but I feel convinced that the young Dane whovanished so suspiciously must have deceived the prince concerning thepresence of Edric in the Danish camp, and that we have no sufficientreason for thinking him such a child of hell as he would be could hebetray his country thus cruelly. It would be Satanic wickedness. Heis, I believe, a bad and untrustworthy man, but not quite so bad asall that."
I tried to explain my reasons for being of a contrary opinion, andasked what was the plan.
"Advanced guards have been placed all along the coasts of Hampshire,beacons prepared on every hill, with constant attendants, so that theDanes would find their coming blazed over the country at once."
"But if so, what men have we to oppose to them?"
"The sheriff has promised that the levies shall appear in case ofneed."
"Does he realise the danger?"
"I hardly think he believes in it; but the beacons will givesufficient warning."
"Who has arranged the guards and chosen the sites for the beacons?"
"Edric, of course, as general of the forces under the king."
I could say no more--it was useless--but I felt very sick at heart.After the noon meat I left the palace, and found my brother ready todepart for home. His interview had been the counterpart of mine.Neither had he succeeded in convincing the sheriff that there was anydanger to be apprehended.
Well, all we can do is to prepare ourselves for the worst. I find thatno tidings have been sent by any authority to the men of this estateto hold themselves in readiness for sudden alarm. I wonder whether thesame remissness prevails elsewhere. No one expects danger. The Danes,they say, never fight in winter.
Advent Sunday, 1006.--
My patient was able to sit up for a short time today, but his weaknessis very pitiable to behold, and he dares not leave his room. Heinquired very earnestly after Alfgar, and I found great difficulty inpersuading him to commit the matter to God, which is all that we cando; for although the river has been dragged, the country searched, notidings have yet been obtained, and we can only believe that the poorlad has been secretly murdered and buried, or that he has been sentaway out of the country.
"I had a strange dream about him," said Edmund. "I thought that it wasmidnight of Christmas Eve, and that I was attending mass, when, justas the words were sung by the choir, 'Pax in terra,' the scenesuddenly changed, and I stood in the dark on the chalk hills whichoverlook the Solent; by my side was a beacon ready laid for firing. Ithought next I saw the Solent covered with the warships of the Danes,who were advancing towards the English shore, and that I tried to firethe beacon, but all in vain, for the wood was wet through, and wouldnot burn.
"Then I had a strange sense of woe and desolation, for my country wasin danger, and I could not even warn her. All at once I heard stepsrushing towards me, and Alfgar appeared bearing a lighted torch. Hethrust it into the pile, and it fired at once. Other beacon firesanswered it, and the country was aroused. Then I awoke."
Saturday, December 5th, 1006.--
The week has again been spent mainly at Clifton. The prince is better,but only able to rise a few hours each day, and I fear a relapse wouldbe fatal.
On Wednesday I visited Abingdon, and had a long conference with theabbot about the neglected warning Edmund had given; but he seemed tothink that the beacon fires and the guards placed near the sea coastsecure us sufficiently. Like all the world, he thinks that theEtheling has exaggerated the danger.
I have written a full account of all things to my brother atAescendune. Father Adhelm is still there ministering to the flock.
Saturday, December 12th, 1006.--
The week has passed monotonously enough. The Etheling is now able toleave his room, but the stormy weather, with its torrents of rain,makes it impossible for him to leave the house. The river hasoverflowed its banks; all the country around is like a lake. Weconsole him by telling him that all has been done which is possible,both to warn the people and learn the fate of Alfgar. He tries to lookcontented, but if he knew how little has really been done, and thatthat little has been in Edric's hands, he would not be so contented.
Saturday, December 19th, 1006.--
A very severe frost has set in this week, and there has been muchsnow; the whole country is decked in her winter braveries forChristmas. O that it may pass in peace, as the birthday of the Princeof Peace should pass!
I intend to spend it at Clifton, after which I shall return to myflock at Aescendune.
Edmund has been out today, but the sharp air hurt his lungs, whichhave been grievously inflamed, and he was forced to return early.
He has been so patient for one of his temperament, so grateful forattention shown him, one would hardly think the lion could be such alamb. He intends to receive the Blessed Sacrament of the Body andBlood of Christ on Christmas day in the little church of St. Michaelhere, and then he will leave for London in the course of the week.
We have heard nothing of Alfgar--we fear there is no hope; but theprince clings to it, and says his dream will come true, and thatAlfgar has yet a great work to do.
Christmas Eve, 1006.--
O happy happy Christmastide! All griefs seem hushed and all joyssanctified by the blessed mystery of the Incarnation. O that Mary'sblessed Son, the Prince of Peace, may indeed bring us peace on earth,and good will towards men!
The weather is beautiful. The stars shine as brightly tonight as ifthey were the lights about His throne; the very earth has deckedherself in her clear and spotless robe of snow in His honour. As forthe dear ones who were with us last Christmas--Bertric, Alfgar (for Ifear he is gone where I hope he keeps a happier Christmas)--they haveleft the heart less lonely, for if we miss them on earth they seem toattract us to heaven, which is yet more like home when we think of theloved and the lost who await us there.
We sing a midnight mass in an hour in the little church, anothertomorrow at dawn, a third in the full daylight. All the good peoplehere will communicate, and the evening will be given up to suchmerrymaking as is befitting amongst Christians. All the ceorls andserfs will be at the Hall, and the prince will share theentertainment. Herstan and Bertha have been very busy preparing forit, as also their children, Hermann, Ostryth, and Aelfleda.
But I must go and assist in decking the church for the midnightfestivity.