CHAPTER III. THE NIGHT OF ST. BRICE.
Monday, November 14th, 1002.--
I hardly know how to write the events of last night, my pen almostrefuses to begin. I feel thoroughly sickened by the very remembranceof the bloodshed and treachery which have disgraced Christian England,and which will assuredly bring down God's judgment upon us.
But I will do violence to myself, and will write all thingsaccurately, in order it may serve to show that there were thoseamongst us who were not consenting parties, who entered not into thecounsels of those men of blood, whom may God "reward after theirdeeds, and according to the wickedness of their own inventions."
Well, to begin. When supper was ended at the hall last night, mybrother bade his wife and children seek their bower, and Alfgar wentwith them; then he addressed his people with that confidence andaffection he not only shows in his outward speech, but really feels inhis heart.
"Are all the folk present within the gates?" he asked.
"We are all here, my lord," replied they; "none have been wanting intheir duty."
"It is well; and now, my people, I ask you, whom I have ever trusted,and to whom I have tried to be a friend as well as a master, have youany of you a suspicion what the sheriff is about tonight, and why hedesired the prior to tell good Christians to keep within doors?"
There was a dead silence. At last one of the ceorls rose up, and spokewith some hesitation:
"I think, my lord, that they intend to avenge themselves upon the Danefolk."
"Did they say anything about it to you or any other of my people?"
"Yes; they tried to get two or three of us to join in the work, butwhen they found we would do nothing without your knowledge, they toldus no more."
"Then you do not know what is the exact work they have in hand?"
"No. But I heard something which made me think that plunder andmassacre were both likely to be committed."
"Did you hear any particular names mentioned?"
"Yes. That of Anlaf."
"This explains Siric's insolence, Cuthbert."
"It does," I replied.
"But surely they cannot intend to do anything tonight. They would notchoose Sunday for a deed of darkness. Men who have attended massduring the day, surely would not so forget their God as to go throughthe country like cowardly wolves, pulling down the prey in companywhich they dare not attack singly."
"I should hope the same; but then the looks and words of today," saidI.
"Did they say what authority they had for their projected scheme?"
"They dared to say," replied the ceorl who had before spoken, "theyhad the sanction of the king."
There was again a painful silence. We groaned in the bitterness of ourhearts--O Ethelred, son of Edgar, hast thou forgotten all truth andmercy?--thou, the son of Edgar the Magnanimous?
Every impulse of our hearts led us to detest the cruel deed oftreachery about to be consummated, but which we could not prevent.
At least there was one whom we could save from the generaldestruction, the young Alfgar, and we determined to detain him ifpossible by persuasion, keeping the truth from him, but in any case todetain him at the hall during the night.
I could not remain at the hall myself, for, on such a night, it seemednecessary to be with my own people, and to be ready to seize anyopportunity of saving the effusion of blood, or of giving protectionto any who might seek refuge under the shelter of our roof, wheremurder would be sacrilege, a consideration of some importance whereChristians, shame to say, were the murderers.
But before I went my brother and I sent to Alfgar that we might speakto him, and prevail upon him to stay with us the night.
"Alfgar," said Elfwyn, "the night is very stormy and blustering, andwe wish you to remain with us, and share our hospitality till themorn. Your father will not miss you?"
"I do not think he will; for after one of these debauches he generallysleeps far into the next day. But the domestic serfs may remark myabsence."
"There is another reason, my boy, why we wish you to stay. Wild menwho hate your father's race are abroad, and did you fall into theirhands while returning home it might fare hard with you."
"I can imagine that. I marked the looks they cast upon me in God'shouse, even there, this day. They cannot forgive me my Danish blood,although my mother was one of themselves, and a Christian."
"They have suffered much, my lad; and suffering, as is often the case,has blunted their feelings. But you will stay with us, will you not?"
"I will stay; many thanks for your kindness."
After this I had nothing further to detain me at the castle, so I leftfor the priory.
It was a black dark night. The violence of the wind almost lifted mefrom my feet; not a star could be seen but occasionally a sharphailstorm pelted down. Glad was I, although the distance was notgreat, to see the lights of the priory, and to dry my chilled limbsand wet garments before the fire in the common room while I told mybrethren the tidings of the night, and the suspicions which weentertained.
When I had finished there was a dead pause, during which the howlingblast without, as it dashed the hail against the casement, seemed afitting accompaniment to our sombre thoughts.
The compline bell rang.
This office is always full of heavenly comfort, but there seemed aspecial meaning tonight in one verse--"A thousand shall fall besidethee, and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nighthee."
Yet the thousands were heavy on our hearts, and I meditated some meansof carrying tidings of their danger to our pagan neighbours; but Iknew nothing of the details of the plot, only that there was a plot,and I knew that if I sent a brother, the Danes, in their hatred tomonks, would probably set their huge dogs at him before he couldspeak, and perhaps worry him to death. Neither could any othermessenger approach their dwellings safely at night.
I tried to hope, but against reason, that we had perhaps exaggeratedthe danger. Still, after the compline was over, we sat in deliberationa long time in the hall. The novices and lay brothers, ignorant of theperil, had retired to rest; but we, who knew the portentous state ofthings around us, could not have slept had we retired. Ever and anonwe looked forth from doors and windows into the black darknesswithout; but although it was near midnight, neither sight nor soundtold of aught amiss, and we were beginning to yield to fatigue, when Iascended the tower in company with Father Adhelm, to survey the scenefor the last time. It was so windy that we could hardly stand upon theleaded roof, and although we gazed around, nought met our eyes untilwe were on the point of returning.
"Listen!" said Father Adhelm, the subprior.
It was unnecessary. Borne upon the wind, a loud noise, as of men whoshout for mastery, met our ears, followed or intermingled with criesfor help or mercy--so we fancied at least.
While we stood rooted by horror to the spot, a bright light arose,which rapidly increased, as a conflagration well might in such a wind,and soon the whole horizon was illuminated. I knew but one homesteadin that direction--the fortified house of Anlaf.
I thought of the poor boy, with thankfulness that we had restrainedhim from returning home. He is saved, at least, thought I, as a brandfrom the burning.
The other brethren joined us, and after a short consultation, wedetermined to go to the scene in a body, to mitigate the rage of thepeople, and save life where we could.
So, putting our cowls over our heads, we sallied forth into the blacknight--black and dark save where the light of the fire illumined thehorizon, and even cast a faint ray upon our own path. We were not usedto journeys in such weather, and I am afraid we made very slowprogress, but it was not for want of good will. The fire grew brighterand brighter as we proceeded, and the shouts louder and louder. Weknew that Anlaf had a party of his countrymen, all of them obnoxiousto the English, and could easily understand that they had collectedthemselves together for their own destruction. Yet, when we lookedaround, we perceived by the blood-red reflection in the skies at otherpoi
nts, that the same ruthless task was being carried out in many adistant spot, as well as close at hand.
Reaching the bank of the river, we directed our course along its banksuntil the dark forest closed in upon us, and rapid progress becamedifficult. The trees were all rocking wildly in the wind, and here andthere a severed branch fell down before us. Occasionally a gust ofrain and hail descended. The path was wet and slippery. Poor FatherAdhelm groaned aloud. He had the podagra, (or gout), and ought not tohave ventured forth; but zeal would not let him rest.
"Verily our path is hedged about with thorns. It is hard to kickagainst the pricks," said the chamberlain.
"It is God's work," said I, "and we may not falter."
Yet I felt my own heart weak.
But for the red light, which shone even through the shade of theforest, we could not have pursued our path. But plainer and plainerthe wind brought the fierce shouts of the assailants to our ears,until, emerging from a dark belt of underwood, the whole horror of thescene burst upon us.
Before us, at the distance of a few hundred yards, defended by a moundand a ditch, rose the irregular and fortified dwelling of Anlaf. Itwas wrapped in flames from top to basement, and even as we looked oneof the towers gave way, and fell upon the hall beneath, with hideousdin, in headlong ruin.
Around the blazing pile stood some two or three hundred men, whocompletely encircled it, and who had doubtless prevented the escape ofthe inmates. We were evidently too late; the passive attitude of theassailants showed that their bloody work was done.
We learned afterwards that the domestics, who were English serfs, hadbetrayed the place to the foe, while the Danish lords were revellingin the great hall, and half drunk with wine. Surprised at the banquet,they fell an easy prey, and were slaughtered almost withoutresistance, after which the house was plundered of everything worthcarrying away, and then set on fire in every part. Further details wecould not gather. All was over when we arrived.
Full of indignation, I and my brethren advanced straight upon thegroup surrounding the sheriff, the crafty and cruel Edric Streorn, andin the name of God denounced the cruelty and sin of which they hadbeen guilty.
"Sir monk," was the reply, "are you traitor to your king that you thusleague yourself with his deadly enemies? All that is done this nightis done by his order."
"God will avenge the deed," said I. "Ye have not fought like men, butcrept on like serpents, and slain those who, trusting to the faith ofChristians, dwelt blindly in our midst. And now, what can we say? Howcan we hope to win our foes to God and Christ when we set at naughthis precepts and despise his example?"
"Sir monk, I have not time to listen to a homily; keep it for nextSunday, when I will try to attend. For the present--"
Here he was interrupted by a loud cry which arose near us.
"The wolf cub! the wolf cub! Slay him, and the work is complete."
The cry, "Slay him! slay him!" was taken up by a dozen voices, when Irecognised Alfgar, who by some means had learned the danger of hiskinsfolk, and had come to share their fate.
"Save him, sheriff!" I cried; "save him! He is a Christian. His motherwas English."
And I rushed forward myself, and saw that the poor lad had alreadybeen brought on his knees by more than one fell stroke.
I held up the crucifix, which hung at my girdle, on high; I threw myarm over his head, and abjured them under the name of Christ, and asthey feared the curse of the Church, to forbear. My brethren all aidedme.
Sullenly they dropped their weapons, and the sheriff, coming forward,seconded me, although in a very contemptuous manner.
"Let him have the lad for his share of the night's work," he said.
And so God gave me the poor lad's life.
I had scarcely time to lay him on a sloping bank, where the lightwhich shone so luridly from his burning home might fall upon him, whenmy brother Elfwyn appeared on the scene with a score of his men.
He recognised us by our habits, and came and looked with me at theorphan as he lay on the bank. The boy had received no serious wound,but was exhausted, as much I thought by the violence of his emotionsas by his injuries. He was wet through; his clothes were torn withbrambles, for he had followed a straight path through six miles oftangled forest, from Aescendune.
They had unfortunately given him a bed in a chamber which lookedtowards his home: he had chanced to wake, had looked from the window,seen the flames, and had started thither at once, swimming the moatwhen he could not cross the drawbridge--suspecting, doubtless, that hewas surrounded by treachery.
I had already poured a rich cordial down his throat, and he was comingto himself, my brother aiding me, when the sheriff, grand in his robeand chain of office, came up.
"Good day, or rather night, to you, Thane of Aescendune," said he toElfwyn; "we have had a fair night's work, and destroyed a big wasp'snest; have you come for your share in the spoil?"
"I only ask permission to preserve life; your work has been of anopposite nature."
"Yes, we have been obedient to our king, and avenged him this night ofhis enemies, who are also, I should have thought, the enemies of theChurch."
"God will not bless midnight murder," said I.
"Murder! it is not murder to slay heathen Danes; had they beenChristians it would, of course, have been a different thing."
"He hath made of one blood all the nations of the earth," I replied.
"The good prior wishes me to talk theology. Unfortunately I have muchwork to do; you will hear tidings soon of other Danish holds thanthis. The land may rejoice, freed from her oppressors, and they whoblame our work will praise its results."
"That remains to be seen," we both replied.
We had, meanwhile, placed Alfgar, now partially recovered, on apalfrey; and, supported by my brother and me, one on each side, we ledhim homewards. Arrived at the castle, we gave him to the care ofOsred, the domestic physician. He looked at the patient, andpronounced a favourable opinion, saying that with time and care allwould be well. But his left arm was broken, and he had received aslight blow on the head. Fever was the leech's chief apprehension; ifhe could keep that off, he said he doubted not all would be well.
St. Andrew's Day.--
Our patient has lain some time in a state of delirium, whereat no onecould wonder. In his ravings he was incessantly acting over the scenesthrough which he had passed during the dreadful night which followedSt. Brice's Day. But, thanks to a good constitution, today he hastaken a favourable turn, and seems likely to recover from a blow whichwould have hopelessly shattered a frailer frame.
I was seated by his couch when he seemed to awake out of sleep, and Isaw his bright dark eyes fixed inquiringly on me.
"Where am I?" he inquired.
"In the Hall of Aescendune; you have been very ill here."
"Indeed! I have had such dreadful dreams!--but were they all dreams?"
"Your mind has been wandering for days, my dear son. You must not talktoo much."
He was silent, but evidently pondered more.
December 25, Christmas Day, 1003. {iv}--
All the household has given itself up to joy and gladness; even poorAlfgar, who has been released today from the confinement of hischamber, has entered into the general joy, although ever and anonrelapsing into sadness.
He knows all now: a day or two agone, when all the household had goneto hunt in the woods, I was alone with him in his chamber, and thoughtthat at last I must discharge the painful task of telling him thetruth.
"My boy," I said, "you have not lately inquired about your father."
He looked at me very sadly.
"I know all," he said, "that you would tell me. I have no father, nomother, no kinsfolk."
"Some of our people have told you then?"
"No. At first the events of that fearful night seemed all like adream, and mingled themselves with the strange spectres which hauntedme in delirium; but afterwards the real separated itself from theunreal, and I knew that my father and all h
is friends, my Danishuncles amongst them, had perished with the whole household assembledthere that fatal day. I also remembered, but faintly, how I came here.Did not you save me from the murderers?"
I briefly explained the whole circumstances to him, adding such wordsof consolation as I could think of, and telling him that he mustalways look upon Aescendune as his home. At length he rose. He had notreplied.
"Pardon me, my father," he said, "but may I retire to my chamber? Iwish to say much, but I am too weak now."
"Meanwhile, you will not leave us?"
"I have no other home."
And he retired to his little chamber, from which he emerged no moretoday.
Feast of the Epiphany.--
This day my catechumen Alfgar was baptized in the priory church. Itseemed useless to delay longer, as he was fully prepared bothintellectually and spiritually, nay, has been so for some time, onlythe tragic event which deprived him of his Danish kinsfolk haddistracted him for a time from spiritual things. Nay, had he not beensurrounded by real Christians and loving friends here at Aescendune, Ifear the Church would have lost him altogether. Such a commentary wasthe massacre of St. Brice on the Christian doctrine of love andforgiveness! He felt it grievously at first, but he was able at lengthto distinguish between men that say they are of Christ, and are not,and those who really set the example of that Lord and his Saintsbefore them. He is now one of ourselves; a sheep safe in the fold, andthe dying wish of his sainted mother is fulfilled. My brother intendsto adopt him as a son, and as his family is small, the proposal meetsmy approbation. Bertric and Ethelgiva already love him as a brother.