CHAPTER V. THE TRACKS IN THE FOREST.
It was a long time before any news of the warriors reached home; forin those days the agony of suspense had always to be endured in theabsence of posts and telegrams; but after a few weeks a specialmessenger came from the army. He was one of the Aescendune people, andhis was the great privilege of embracing wife and family once more erereturning to the perils of the field.
His news was brief. The forces of Mercia had been placed under thecommand of Edric, formerly the sheriff of the county in whichAescendune lay, but long since returned to court, where his smoothtongue gained him great wealth and high rank. Gifted with a subtlegenius and persuasive eloquence, he had obtained a complete ascendencyover the mind of the weak Ethelred, while he surpassed even thattreacherous monarch in perfidy and cruelty.
Under his direction that unhappy king had again and again embrued hishands in innocent blood. This very year they had both given a proof ofthese tendencies worth recording.
Edric had conceived a hatred against the Ealdorman Elfhelm, which hecarefully concealed. He invited that unfortunate lord to a banquet atShrewsbury, where he welcomed him as his intimate friend. On the thirdor fourth day of the feast he took him to hunt in a wood where he hadprepared an ambuscade, and while all the rest were engaged in thechase, the common hangman of Shrewsbury, one Godwin "port hund," orthe town's hound, bribed by Edric to commit the crime, sprang frombehind a bush, and foully assassinated the innocent ealdorman. Not tobe behind his favourite in cruelty, Ethelred caused the two sons ofthe unfortunate Elfhelm to be brought to him at Corsham, near Bath,where he was then residing, and he ordered their eyes to be put out.
Such was the man to whom the destinies of the English army were nowconfided, and such the king who ruled the unhappy land--cruel as hewas cowardly.
Under such leaders it is no marvel that the messenger Ulric had nogood news to tell. The army had assembled, and had marched after theDanes, whose policy for the present was to avoid a pitched battle, andto destroy their enemies in detail. So they were continually harassingthe English forces, but avoiding every occasion of fair fight. Did theEnglish march to a town under the impression the Danes were about toattack it, they found no foe, but heard the next day that somemiserable district at a distance had been cruelly ravaged. Did theylie in ambush, the Danes took another road. Meanwhile the Englishstragglers were repeatedly cut off; and did they despatch a smallforce anywhere, it was sure to fall into an ambush, and be annihilatedby the pagans.
Their repeated disasters weakened every man's heart, and gave rise toa well-founded belief that there was treachery in their midst, andthat plans decided even in their secret councils were made known tothe Danes. What wonder, then, that they grew dispirited, and thatmurmurs arose on all hands, while the army could scarcely keeptogether for want of provisions?
The war was at present raging in the southern counties, but ever andanon the marauders made a forced march, and sacked some helpless townremote from the seat of war.
There was no prospect, Elfwyn said, of the campaign coming to an end;the harvest must take care of itself or the women and children mustreap it. The men were all and more than all, wanted in Wessex.
There were loving messages for wife and children, and Alfgar was notforgotten.
But there was one piece of information contained in the letter whichmade Alfgar very uneasy, and reminded him of his dream.
One Boom, a retainer of Elfwyn, had been taken prisoner by the Danes,and by a very uncommon piece of good fortune had escaped with lifefrom his ferocious captors. He stated that he had been closelyexamined concerning his home, character of the population, and theirmeans of defence, especially as to the events of St. Brice's night.Although he strove to evade their questions, yet he incautiously, orthrough fear of torture, revealed that he came from Aescendune.
The name evoked immediate interest, and he was asked several furtherquestions about the destruction of Anlaf's house, and what became ofhis son. He tried to baffle their inquiries, and thought he hadsucceeded.
These facts the Lady Hilda thought of sufficient importance to justifytheir communication to Alfgar. They caused her some anxiety.
The messenger returned to the army. Weeks passed away, and the womenand children, as well as the old men, were all busy in getting in thebounteous harvest with which this year God had blessed the earth.Alfgar and Bertric worked like the theows themselves, and slowly theprecious gifts were deposited in the garners.
Alfgar had one source of consolation in the love he bore to Ethelgiva,a love which was fully returned. Their troth had been pledged to eachother with the full consent of Elfwyn and the Lady Hilda; and on thosefine August nights, as they walked home after the labours in thefield, or the service in the priory, they forgot all the misery of theland, and lived only for each other.
Happy, happy days! How often they looked back to them afterwards!
A second messenger came during harvest time from the camp, now on theborders of Sussex. His news was no better than before. The Danes wereharassing the army on every side, but no decisive battle had beenfought. The enemy still seemed to know all the plans of the Englishbeforehand; and the booty they had gained was enormous, while a deepdistrust of their leaders was spreading amongst the defenders of thesoil.
Elfwyn expressed his intention of seeking an early leave of absenceshould events justify him in paying a short visit home. This delightedthe hearts of his wife and children, and they were happy inanticipation.
It was a fine day in September when the thankful people of Aescendunewere called to raise the song of "Harvest Home"--for the fruits of theearth had indeed been safely gathered in ere the winter storms by thehands of women and children. Such joy as befitted the absence of theirlords was theirs, and Alfgar and Bertric, not to waste the holiday,agreed to have a day's hunting in the forest, rich with all the huesof autumn, while the feast was preparing at home.
The day was delightful. Two young theows, whose fathers had gone tothe war, but who had been left behind as being too young to share itsdangers, although in the flush of early youth, accompanied them, andwere soon loaded with the lighter game their masters had killed, whilea deer they had slain was hung in the trees, where a wolf could notreach it, and where wayfarers were not likely to pass until thesportsmen should return for their own. Onward they wandered until thesun was declining, and then, having some few miles of forest tothread, and the deer to send for, they turned on their homeward way.
No thought of any danger was on their minds that day. The Danes weretoo far distant. They were more than a hundred miles from the seat ofwar, and a hundred miles in those days meant more than five hundredwould mean now.
About the hour of five they rested and bathed in a tributary of theAvon. Bertric's spirits were very high: he laughed and talked like onewhose naturally ardent temperament was stimulated by the bracingatmosphere and the exercise. His active and handsome frame, brightwith all the attractions of youth, was equal to any amount of woodlandtoil; and Alfgar, who was, as we have said, deeply attached to hiscompanion, felt proud of his younger brother, as he delighted to callhim, and Bertric loved to be called so. Alfgar trusted some day tohave a yet better claim to the title.
Leaving the bathing place while there was yet time to reach homebefore dark, they came at last to a ford across the stream, the onlyspot where it could be safely forded, and as such known to the nativesof the vicinity; when their dogs began to whine, and to run with theirnoses to the ground, as if they had found something unusual to attracttheir attention.
The two theows who were in front paused at the ford till their lordscame up, and then pointed to the ground with a terrified aspect.Alfgar gazed and started, as did Bertric. There were the footmarks ofa large number of horses, evidently belonging to a body of horsemenwho must have crossed the ford since they passed it in the morning.
"Can my father have returned unexpectedly?" said Bertric. "He said heshould get an early leave of absence."
Alfgar d
id not answer for a moment. He was evidently very muchalarmed.
"Look," he said, "at the footmarks, where some have dismounted."
Bertric looked, and comprehended the terror of his companion. Thearmed heels, which had sunk deeply into the mud, had left tracesutterly unlike the marks to which they were accustomed in similarcases.
The stories they had both heard of predatory bands of Danes who hadwandered far from their main body, and had sought gratification fortheir lust for plunder and blood in remote spots where the inhabitantsdwelt in fancied security, came to their minds, and also the inquirieswhich had been made in the Danish camp concerning their home and thecircumstances of St. Brice's fatal night.
"Still, it may be our father and his men; they may have worn thespoils of the enemy."
The spoils generally went the other way, Alfgar thought, but did notsay.
They crossed the ford in silence, intent only on reaching home. For along time they could follow the trail of the horsemen.
"Who can lead them?" said Bertric, as they bounded onward. "They seemto know the country."
A sad and harrowing suspicion had filled Alfgar's mind, that these menmight be deputed to avenge the fiery death of his father--and toavenge it, probably, on the very people who would have died to preventit.
But the one desire uppermost in the minds of the whole party was tohasten home. They feared every moment that they might see the brightflame through the trees, or that the wind might bring them the tidingsthat they were all too late--too late to save those whom they lovedfrom outrage and death.
So they continued running, or walking when breath failed, at theutmost speed they could command, and just as the sun set they arrivedat the crest of a hill, from which they could see the hall.
"Thank God, it yet stands!" said they both.
They descended, and plunged again into the wood which lay between themand the goal; their theows, less perfectly trained, and perhaps lessardent, fell slightly behind. They came upon the spot where they hadleft the deer, not, however, with any intention of encumberingthemselves with the burden, as may be imagined. They looked, however,at the tree where they had hung the carcase, and their eyes met eachother's.
"It is gone," said Alfgar, with bated breath.
They said no more, but continued their headlong course, until they hadreached an open glade by the side of a small stream. Here their dogsbecame uneasy, and uttered low threatening growls.
The lads paused, then advanced cautiously, looking before and around.
Turning a corner round some thick underwood, they came suddenly upon asight which justified all their previous alarm.
A huge fire burned by the side of a brook, over which was roasting thedeer which they had killed. The light shone out in the gatheringdarkness, and illumined the recesses of the bushes around, and thefaces of a large body of men reclining on the bank, or engaged in thetask of sharpening their arms while their supper was roasting. Amomentary glance told that they were Danes, thus advancing under theshadow of the forest, to take their foes unawares. Their horses werepicketed around, and sentinels were evidently posted, to give thefirst alarm of any danger.
Alas! they had seen the poor lads before they could withdraw into thewoods which fringed the path, and instantly prepared for pursuit.Three or four jumped upon their horses, two or three more plunged intothe wood to cut off the retreat. It was all-important to their plansthat their presence should not be discovered; and these manoeuvreswere executed in perfect silence.
They had not seen the theows behind, but fixed all their attention onBertric and Alfgar, who, on their part, comprehending their danger,turned at right angles into the wood, and ran for life. The boys werefleet of foot, and would probably have distanced their pursuers, butan arrow from some ambush on their left hand pierced Alfgar's thigh,wounding an important muscle, and he could run no farther.
"Leave me, leave me, Bertric," he cried; "you are in more danger thanI."
Poor Bertric would not leave his friend. He tried to assist him, andturned a deaf ear to all solicitations for the few moments that theycould have availed. It was soon too late, and the heavy hands of theDanish warriors were laid upon them.
Shuddering at the contact, they yet yielded without useless andunmanly resistance, and were at once led to the side of the fire.
It was a scene Salvator Rosa would have loved to paint: the firelightbringing out in strong relief the huge limbs of the oak trees, thebronzed faces of those dread warriors, which no pitiful or tenderfeelings ever seemed to visit.
The theows had fortunately, being behind, taken the alarm in time, andescaped unnoticed by the Danes.
A large athletic warrior, but yet a man of some age, rose from hisseat by the fire, and scrutinised the captives. Alfgar knew him. Itwas Sidroc, an old fellow warrior of his father, who had often visitedtheir home near Aescendune, and he was at no loss now to comprehendthe object of their enterprise.
The warrior gazed upon him fixedly, and then spoke aloud.
"Whence your name and lineage? Your face is not of the hue of thefaces of the children of the land. Speak! who art thou?"
"Alfgar, the son of Anlaf."
"Thor and Woden be praised! We had learned that you yet lived. Boy,thou art the object of our search. Thou, the descendant of kings,mayst not longer dwell with slaves. Thy father is at hand."
"My FATHER!"
"Yes. Didst thou not know that he escaped on St. Brice's night,baffling his would-be assassins, and yet lives? He thought thee dead,and only sought vengeance, when he heard from the captured prisoner ofElfwyn's band that thou wert yet alive, and he is come to seek thee."
Poor Alfgar!